#Fairy god mothers are actually assholes

[umber-cinders]

Title: 𝐼𝑓 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑆ℎ𝑜𝑒 𝐹𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝐼𝐼

Pairing: Alpha!M’Baku x Black!OmegaReader

Chapter 2/ 2: The Final Vow

Summary: You experience your first ever Jabari wedding in 4K HD, first person point of view. You can't believe you went from bastard child to royal bride in a matter of days. You're expecting the worst, but only the prophecy can determine your fate tonight. At the end of it all, will you still be whole?

Rating: MATURE (18+)

Warnings: 🔞This is the first part of my finale to the original story. It is a Dark Fairy Tale retelling of Cinderella 🔞 ABO/Omegaverse Dynamics, Threats and talks of violence/murder, Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Asshole Family, Claiming Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Knotting,

❥Chapter Index ❥

Once again, the comforting feelings of validation and righteousness don’t last. The day of your wedding, all you can do is cry silent sorrowful tears as you’re woken and made to get dressed and ready. The beta woman doing your makeup had given up trying to work around your tears, applying a much lighter application than what she thought was necessary for such a prestigious event. Farai was trying to be cheerful, but she was at a loss of what to do to console you as well. Your only saving grace is that you had most of the day to sulk in misery by yourself. Tradition dictated the ceremony be in the late evening under a full moon.

It had to be some form of cruel and unusual punishment from the universe that everyone but you was buzzing around like happy little butterflies. Even when the tears stopped and you were shown the final result of everyone’s diligent work, you could only stare back at the reflection of the pretty girl draped in Jabari finery and decorated with carefully painted bridal markings.

❥Read The Rest On Ao3 ❥

✌🏾

Aight, this is the End

[oksurethisismyname]

Cinderella Sanji makes so much sense

CinderSanjis mother dies and his father marries a horrible clown (Cesar) and his siblings are horrible to him. His father lets his siblings be mean to him and forces him to work as a servant in his home, leading to him meeting his fairy god father Zeff.

On the other side of the kingdom we have King Mihawk and King Shanks, with their sons Zoro and Luffy. They throw a birthday ball / celebration and Mihawk (being a nosy drama loving bitch) invites “all eligible nobles” to the party just to see his son squirm at the idea of dating.

Blah blah blah Cindersanji is told he can’t go because he’s more servant than actual nobility, Zeff gets the kitchen staff to work together to get Sanji spruced up and on his way to the ball.

Sanji gets to the party and goes to the balcony to avoid his family, but sees some asshole set his plate down with food left on it. He walks over and says typical sanji stuff (“hey fuckface, some people don’t have enough to eat in this god forsaken kingdom, you better eat the rest of that before I shove it down your throat”) and zoro is immediately smitten. Absolutely in love. He obviously fights back, their bickering is fun but suddenly this mysterious blond leaves without an explanation.

Second night of the celebration, Zoro is actively scanning the crowd for his mysterious mouthy blond. He spots him talking with some pink haired girl with the same stupid eyebrows and notices her pushing him to leave. He follows sanji to the gardens where Sanji is hiding from his siblings (thanks to reijus warning). They end up talking about all sorts of things, but it becomes pretty apparent that this blond guy doesn’t realize he’s been flirting/fighting with a prince. once again Sanji runs off without a goodbye.

On the last night, Zoro begs for his name and Sanji gives him the name Sora. They keep flirt bickering and Zoro is about to mention the whole “you do know I’m the prince right?” , but now it’s midnight. when sanji’s fleeing zoro catches his hand and accidentally pulls his glove off, with Sanji getting away but having to leave his glove (it’s leather and he has really long fingers, so don’t come at me saying gloves fit multiple people)

Blah blah zoro and Luffy go searching for the guy from the ball, see sanjis shitty siblings and they are (unlike traditional Cinderella prince) not that fucking dumb and recognize their faces as the face of the guy from the ball. He’s invited to have tea, with judge trying to get Zoro or Luffy to notice Reiju or maybe Ichiji.

Judge calls for Sanji to serve tea and BOOM, eye contact, sparks fly, because Sanji immediately is yelling “what the fuck you followed me to my home???” And zoros yelling “you’re so stupid, of course I came looking for you! I want to marry you, asshole!” Record scratch, silence, all hell breaks loose with yelling from pretty much everyone BUT Reiju and Luffy. Sanji, finally noticing Zoros outfit and the coat of arms on his clothes, realizes WHO he’s been talking to, is gonna leave because holy shit nope he is clearly hallucinating.

Luffy and Reiju tag team getting everything calmed down, stopping Sanji from running and keeping Zoro from stabbing one of the Vinsmoke boys. Something something Zoro confesses that he’s never felt so challenged and wants to get to know Sanji better, Sanji gets to leave his shitty home life and after a year of courtship they get married

Someone who is more talented take all this mumbled gunk and turn it into the fanfic I’m envisioning!!!!

[meraki-yao]

Dropping in to say your crying at the vows Payneland was SUPERB! Is it too late for 🤬 Payneland? If so no stress at all! Your writing is awesome!

Hi! Oh my God, thank you so much! I'm glad you liked the last one! Thank you for the prompt and sorry for this being late!

🤬Argument with a family member

This is a human/alive AU by the way!

TW: Paul Rowland being a homophobic, abusive asshole, homophobic slurs

Charles freezes, his fiancé’s hand tightening on his arm. Standing in front of their wedding venue entrance, arguing with the security, is his father who he hasn’t seen in years. After struggling through university on his own and meeting Edwin Payne, he took off and ran far away from home, cutting all contact with his parents while building a new home with the love of his life. A few years down the line, he and Edwin created a cipher to communicate with his mother. But throughout all of this, they have deliberately steered clear of his father. His father, who beat him senseless; his father, who locked his lanky teenage self in the basement that he lived in since he was five; his father, who nearly ripped his pierce off his ear, calling him homophobic slur years before he came to terms with his bisexuality. After Charles confessed his trauma after a particularly violent nightmare, Edwin had held him and promised that he would never let Paul Rowland near him ever again. Charles had gripped his boyfriend’s waist and promised the same: he cannot ever let his father lay a hand on sweet, gentle, loving Edwin. But he’s here now, at their rehearsal dinner, and he can’t help but freeze at the sight. Why? How? What is he doing here? How did he find him out after so long? What do I do now? Charles’ eyes meet his dad’s and the next thing he knows, Paul Rowland is pushing the security guard to the ground and comes marching their way, the rage on his face horrifyingly familiar. He has to move, he has to leave, he has to protect Edwin— But he can’t move. He’s frozen in place, legs turned to jelly. He wants to scream and cry but only quick puffs of breaths come out. Just before his dad can shout a curse at them, Edwin suddenly steps forward, pushing Charles behind him. “Excuse me, sir.” He says eerily calmly, which is a sign that he’s actually angry. “I don’t believe you’re invite to this function. You are trespassing right now, please kindly leave the premise before we have to call the authorities.” “Move out of the way, you fag. I’m here to talk to my son.” Paul Rowland growls, and Charles flinches, he wants to grab Edwin’s hand and run. “As you can clearly see, Charles does not want to talk to you. Now, leave.” Edwin continue, not phased by the slur. “CHARLES! YOU FUCKING USELESS PIECE OF SHIT, HIDING BEHIND A FAIRY?” The familiar roar rings in Charles’ ear. He can’t fucking breathe oh God oh fuck— BAM! Edwin, his sweet Edwin who has always gravitated to words, who he has tried to get into boxing without much success, punches his dad square in the jaw. Both Rowlands stare at him in shock. “YOU FUCKER! HOW DARE YOU—” “No, you listen here.” Edwin states, a dangerous edge in his voice. “We have given you multiple warnings. I will not allow you to come here, ruin our joyous occasion and do any harm to my fiancé, physical or otherwise. The police can deal with you now, we’re done here.” He lays a hand on Charles’ back, gentle despite the situation, and leads him away as the police who have finally arrived come and pull his dad away for questioning. They’ll need to provide their recount too, but Edwin insisted that they’ll deal with that later. They enter the dressing room of the venue where Charles collapses onto a chair. Edwin kneels before him, hand cupping his cheek, thumb swiping under his eyes. “Charles, please tell me what’s going on.” “No, it’s nothing, I’ll be fine I— Holy shit, Edwin, you punched my dad!” “Yes well, I very well couldn’t stand there and let him cause you even more distress, and he was clearly not going to listen to a word I say, sometimes actions do speak louder than words.” Charles pulls Edwin into his lap and wraps his arm around his waist, nose buried in his neck, breathing the familiar scent. Edwin’s hand goes to his curls as he presses kisses on to the top of his head. God, how lucky is he, to have such a wonderful person to call his? “We’ll be alright, my love,” Edwin whispers. “I promise, we’ll be alright.” Charles has never doubted him.

[rainbowvamp]

hob and dream were made for incorrect fairytales.

Like, just hear me out.

Beauty and the Beast AU: Hob Gadling is the "Beauty" in "Beauty and the Beast" is very kind to this random monsterfied person. He loves the monsterified person (platonically) and then he's like "how did this happen" and it was Dream. Hob goes on a quest to have a talking to with the being that put the curse on the monsterified person (Dream) and gets cursed just the same. Except when Hob runs around as a "monster" he manages to be well loved and protected by the small village he settles in because he is big and strong and he uses this to take some of the work load off the villagers, challenging Dream's perspective on his own punishments and then they fall in love.

Cinderella AU: Dream is the "fairy god mother". He grants Hob's wish to go to the ball, thinking that he'll stick out and hate it and feel all bad "be careful what you wish for." Then Hob goes to the ball, does stick out, but it's all good because he's having a good time. Dream is like "but you're not going to marry the prince?" "Who cares? I don't want to be rich. I just want to be able to have fun sometimes!" And then Dream is like "So you're not going to wish for me to end your circumstances?" "Well, I'm miserable, but my sister is disabled, and if I leave then all my chores will fall to her and probably kill her." and Dream is like "you hate your step sister". "She's my sister, you asshole. She might be kind of a bad person, but she doesn't deserve to die." And then they fall in love.

Sleeping Beauty AU: Hob goes on a quest to break a princess out of a prison. He's pretty pissed about this whole thing. Like, what kind of person takes their anger out on a random kid? Princess or not? Anyway, he's not a prince, but he knows the local prince and he's a bit not good and Hob kind of doesn't want her to end up having to marry him. Gross for her. So he goes to rescue. Dream is there trying to stop him because he thinks this is the bad prince who is the son of his mortal enemy or whatever. And Hob's like "What's your problem? She's just some girl?" And Dream's like "Your father knows what the problem is!" and it turns out that this girl is like, Dream's niece, and she was stolen from his sibling by a fairy deal and promised to his mortal enemy's son in marriage and Dream couldn't undo the deal, but he could stop her from being forced to marry some asshole. Hence, spinning wheel curse. "Well, I'm actually here to also stop her from marrying that asshole. So we're on the same side!" Said from behind a rock while Dream waits to breath fire and kill him as soon as his head pops up. Dream's like "wait, what?" unbecomes a dragon, they talk, and Hob whisks this princess away back to her parents (Desire and Unity). Dream can't touch her because of the fairy deal. Her parents kiss her head and she wakes up, as was always intended. Literally Desire was packing their bag to go on the same trip Hob just went on when they showed up at their house. (Edit: And then they fall in love.)

Do you see? Do you see??? Is this my Maleficent phase shining through? Probably in some way/shape/form.

[webbo0]

*Cowboy voice* “I Ain’t Quitting You”

Holland March x Jackson Healy

AO3 link

Length: 2,183 words

Summary:

"In my psychology class, we talked about something called an Oral Fixation; Freud made it up. Maybe you just need to have something else to like, chew on and stuff." "Sweetheart, we’ve talked about this —" "Oh my god, Dad, just get some gum or whatever!" AKA 7 things Holland March tries to help him quit drinking, plus the 1 time Jackson Healy helps him out. AKA Holland does NOT have an oral fixation, Thank you very much

Content/Warning: Idiot to lovers, Oral Fixation, Kissing, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Smoking, Sobriety, Quitting Smoking, Post-Canon, chosen family, 5+1 Things, technically it's 7 + 1 things, slight angst, Mature Content, implied/referenced sexuality

Authors Note: This is actually the first fic I ever published back in September '23, but I never posted it to Tumblr, so here ya go!

Original Notes:

Welp. I finally did it. Almost a decade in fandoms and it was Ryan fucking Gosling that made me cave and finally write fanfiction. Shoutout to the Goosecord for the motivation/encouragement to write this and for the feedback, especially @sandpapersnowman for helping me format this for AO3!! Y'all are the best!!

Anyways enjoy!!

***

"March, we gotta talk."

Holland jerks up and immediately regrets it when his head pounds and everything tilts about 270° too far to the left. He groans and falls off the bed. Bed? He doesn’t remember getting there. Or undressing, apparently, because looking down, he quickly realizes he’s wearing nothing but some embarrassingly old boxers. And Healy’s standing above him. Holland scrambles back into bed and covers himself in a blanket.

"Stop pretending I haven’t seen you half-naked before. You’re acting like a Victorian duchess."

"A man must preserve his — hrrk — dignity," Holland retorts back in a bad British accent, having to pause and suppress a wave of nausea halfway through his sentence.

Healy scoffs

"Dignity, my ass! Holly found you passed out on the diving board. You could’ve gotten hurt! Again!"

Holland feels suddenly defensive. "And why do you care? What are you, my fairy drunk-mother?" Not your best comeback there, March, he thinks.

"You’re my business partner; I have a vested interest in having an income, so forgive me if I want my co-detective alive to work with me. You need to stop drinking."

Holland rolls his eyes. "I’ve got it under control, Healy. I’m a big boy, y’know?" God, he wishes he could take a nap right now.

"March, I’m serious; you’re going to do permanent damage to your liver. Plus," Healy hesitates as if he’s trying to figure out a way to finish his sentence without sounding like an asshole, "it’s not fair to Holly. You’re the only family she’s got left; you have to be there for her. She’s a teenager now and needs someone to guide her through adolescent idiocy. You’re her dad, you owe it to her."

That wakes him up. He’s always pushed down the guilt he has over his behavior, but when Healy lays it all out in front of him like that? He knows he’s deluded himself for years into thinking Holly wouldn’t notice, but she’s not a kid anymore. And the thought of her as an impressionable teenager following in his footsteps makes him nauseous for a whole different reason.

He sighs.

"Alright, alright, cut my balls off, why don’tcha? But fine, I get it."

"Thank you," Healy looks relieved.

"I can’t just quit cold chicken, though, withdrawals can be dead—"

"Turkey"

"Hm?" "The phrase is cold turkey."

"No, I’m pretty sure it's chicken."

"Why would it be — never mind. And yeah, it would be pretty dangerous to just stop altogether. What if we cut it down to one drink a day?"

"One? No way, pal, three a day minimum."

"Three?! There is something seriously wrong with you, March."

"Hey!"

An hour of negotiations later, they settle on a begrudged compromise.

That was a month ago, and Holland was regretting ever saying yes to the whole stupid plan. To substitute for the flask he always took a swig from whenever he needed to calm his nerves, he kept an extra pack of cigarettes, so he was smoking twice as much as usual. And Holly isn't a fan of his new habit. It’s a Monday morning, and Holland sits at the table, sipping his coffee, while Holly gets ready for school. Healy had stopped by to drop off some paperwork for their latest case, and now, for some inexplicable reason, is making them all pancakes. He bites back a comment about him making a great housewife and instead turns to Holly, arms out for a hug. She had a big test today and has insisted on the Mandatory Good Luck Hug before tests since kindergarten. She makes a face at him.

"Ugh, Dad, you smell gross!"

Tchk. Teenagers. "Holly, it’s rude to say that to someone’s face."

"It's true, March, you smell like an ashtray had sex with another ashtray," Healy comments from his place in front of the stove, not even turning around.

"Yeah, and then their house burned down." Holly adds, "You do know those will kill you one day, right?"

"Pfft, no way! Doctors used to give these to you! My own father had a prescription for a pack a day!"

Healy turns around. "Didn't he die of lung cancer?"

"Yeah, why?"

Healy pinches the bridge of his nose. He looks like he has a headache brewing.

Holly waltzes into the kitchen and steals a pancake from the ever-growing stack.

"In my psychology class, we talked about something called an Oral Fixation; Freud made it up. Maybe you just need to have something else to like, chew on and stuff."

"Sweetheart, we’ve talked about this —"

"Oh my God, Dad, just get some gum or whatever!"

She still leans in for a half hug while wrinkling her nose, because tradition is tradition. As she walks to the bus stop, Holland considers her words. Was he obsessed with things in his mouth? He took a sip of coffee before anyone could notice his face flushing a lovely shade of magenta.

The first thing he tries is Holly’s initial suggestion: gum. He gets a shit ton of flavors to try to find one he won’t get tired of. He settles on Bubblicious watermelon wave. The idea is largely effective, and Holland's smoking is cut down to what Holly decides is a "normal amount."

Unfortunately, Holland has the manners of a barn animal, so after only nine days of chewing with his mouth open non-stop, Healy is about to strangle him.

"March, buddy, I’m glad this is helping with your ‘mouth thing’," he starts. Holland opens his mouth to protest before Healy quickly cuts him off to finish. "But we have to figure something else out before I make the ‘arm incident’ look like a harmless prank."

Holland shuts up. No problem, he’ll find something else. He was getting tired of the gum sticking to his teeth anyway.

Holland’s next plan; a toothpick. More similar in shape to a cigarette and they last much longer. Bonus points: Holly thinks he looks “far out”. This plan lasts about 3 seconds before he gets a splinter in his gums. Toothpick is out.

Plan C is to just chew on the end of his pen as he works. Holland thinks it makes him look distinguished. Healy’s just kinda grossed out. Everything is fine until he finds a break in their case, jumps up in excitement, and promptly inhales the pen cap. Healy has to use the damn Heimlich maneuver on him, frantically grabbing him and squeezing harder than Holland thinks is necessary. But what does he know? And, wow, he definitely isn’t thinking about how Healy's strong arms feel around him.

When Healy silently hands him a teething ring meant for fussy toddlers, Holland almost punches him (attempted sobriety has him more on edge than usual). But hearing Holly’s muffled hysterics around the corner instantly dissolves his irritation. Something about Jackson and Holly working together just makes his heart flutter.

And sometimes, when he’s sure no one is looking, he’ll hold up the ring on a chain around his neck to his mouth. Softly, not biting or chewing, just letting it rest between his lips. And no matter what Jackson softly asks him one night, tears are not falling down his face. Those are the nights he really regrets cutting down on his drinking.

It’s when he starts keeping a lollipop in his mouth most of the day he notices Healy acting… Different. When Holland’s doing his work, going over papers and poring over phone books, he lets himself loosen up. Often he’ll tap his pen in random patterns, or jiggle his leg up and down (which drives Healy crazy), or more recently, he’ll hold his lollipop between his fingers like a cigarette and slowly lick circles around it. It’s a mindless behavior that helps him concentrate, but for some reason, Healy doesn’t like it. March can tell. He notices Healy glance at him and then darts his eyes down as if it weirds him out just to witness it. It hurts; Healy knows how much Holland is trying to be better, why would he judge him for how he’s coping? He tries to brush it off, wondering why it bothers him so much; he should be used to people not getting him by now.

They’re sitting next to each other on the couch in Holland’s living room, working on their latest case. It’s late at night and Holly is sleeping at a friend’s house for a birthday party. Holland is losing himself in the details of this case (who kidnaps a pet snake??) when he senses Healy’s attention on his mouth, which he currently occupies with a new blue raspberry lollipop.

After the fifth time Holland catches Healy staring at his mouth he snaps.

“I know I’m a fuck-up and everything but can you at least try to hide how much you —"

He’s cut off when something covers his lips. Oh. When Healy covers his lips. With his mouth. Oh. Holland’s brain takes about three seconds to catch up with what’s happening. Jackson’s kissing him. Holy shit.

Holy shit.

Jackson must’ve taken his frozen state as rejection because he quickly pulls back. Holland almost whines from the loss of contact.

“Fuck. Fuck! I shouldn’t have done that, I’m so sorry, Holland,” Jackson runs a hand through his hair, clearly panicking, “You’ve just been such a goddamn tease with the fuckin’, whatever it is you’re doing with those lollipops and I couldn’t hel—”

This time he’s cut off from finishing his sentence by Holland grabbing his face and kissing him so hard he’s distantly worried about breaking Jackson’s nose. Holland’s hands rest on the side of Jackson’s face and cup the back of his neck, bracing himself in a desperate attempt to hide how much he’s shaking. Jackson’s lips are firm and his 3-day-old stubble is rough against his skin; one of his hands automatically threads into Holland’s hair, and the other hovers over his side before settling on his hips. He squeezes and the feeling goes straight to Holland’s dick. He lets out a wet groan into Jackson’s mouth who responds with a deep rumble.

“Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Jackson growls, pulling away from Holland to let him catch his breath.

“Tell me,” is all that Holland responds, dipping his head and latching his mouth to Jackson’s neck, drawing out a strangled gasp.

“Since the day you fell asleep on my shoulder during that stakeout, and grabbed onto me like a fucked-up koala. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you,” Jackson is visibly struggling to keep his composure as Holland's fingers move to the buttons on Jackson's shirt, frantically undoing them and pushing his hands under the cheap cotton. Holland moves his mouth down his neck, biting and sucking and doing things with his tongue that must be good because Jackson is making sounds that frankly should be illegal.

“Maybe Holly’s right, you really have a fixation on —”

Jackson yelps before he can finish his thought because Holland bites down hard into the soft skin of Jackson’s shoulder.

“Please don't mention my daughter while I’m giving you hickeys, it’s weird,” Holland mumbles while sucking what is sure to be a large dark splotch into Jackson’s collarbone.

“What I’m saying,” Jackson starts, as he grabs Holland's hair and jerks his head up to look him in the eyes, pupil’s blown. Holland would’ve whined from the loss of contact if he wasn’t moaning from Jackson’s hand tugging against his scalp.

“What I’m saying, is that maybe you just need to be doing something useful for once with that pretty little mouth besides drinking and talking non-stop.”

“And smoking, can’t forget all the smo—” Jackson shuts him up by shoving the thumb of the hand not tangled in his hair into Holland’s mouth, pressing down on his tongue. He moans around his hand in a way he knows must sound obscene. Jackson curses as Holland simultaneously starts sucking his fingers like it’s his job and fumbling with the buckle on Jackson’s jeans.

“God, you are something special, Holland,” he murmurs softly, and Jackson says his name with such reverence that if Holland doesn’t get the other man’s pants off immediately, he might explode.

He drops to his knees between Jackson’s thick thighs, because if everyone and their mother were so insistent he has this ‘mouth fixation’ or whatever, he might as well blow their expectations out of the water.

Heh, blow. Good one March.

He stares at the crotch of Jackson’s jeans, already starting to drool.

___

After that night, Holland sticks with the lollipops (now sugar-free, because his dentist nearly had a conniption when he last went in for a cleaning). No longer worried about Healy’s judgment, he loosens up and allows himself to fidget weirdly in peace. And if he and Jackson are alone on the nights when needs a little help with his mouth thing (because fine, yes, he might have a little fixation. Sue him), and he’s having a particularly hard time not turning to his vices? Well, that’s between him, his gag reflex, and Freud.

***

Hope y'all enjoyed!!! You get bonus points if you find all the other Ryan Gosling movie references Again, this is the first full fic I've written so any and all feedback is welcomed!

[solardick]

Happy BS day. Its valentines. I’m not allowed knowing love. Because god’s an asshole. And enjoys fucken with me. And it’s always ever going to be just me. And know that in dying. I dont care anymore. That stupid girl they always talking about is going to be there. Today, yay! My lung hurts. Smoke another ciggarette.

Wonder whys the dovstor arw going to say when i ask to be euthanized. Just send me a guy already so i can spend the rest of my short life being fucked. Like i have been since my first memory. And Since im never going to add anything to life. And for the first tome this year theres the semblance of winter. Its only ten degrees warmer than it should be today and not 20.

Oh and the girl is gone. Wonder who’s gonna replace her.

Yay for being punished all fucken day. Get the fuck out of my way.

And fuck tarot im done. All y’all fo id give me the oppositre of what i create and my intent. Fuck this rapist culture. Soend tbe rest of my short life gaming and hetting drunk. An dmy dragon image in now trash.

Not allowed being healthy others control my life. Wonder what having independance from malicious influences. Something id like to experiemce before i die. Ive never been. Maybe one day. Ill go. Lol.

I nailed it in that dragon image though. My perfect reflection. And the tower crumbles. Everytime.

Mmmnn i can feel it. Serpent. Its stirring. And after fetting hit in the face with a box. Fuck this. Im done. Fuck all of you. Go sit in the corner and wait.

Souffy, fuck off pls.

And… uh, maybe she realized she was in love with me. And could no longer stay. It was a nice two step dance we did though. Was fun. Bye luv. Maybe one day.

It’s always sexual. I have a very lovable image. I just be me. I always get fucked over. But circumstances won’t allow. Im locked down. Man. And they won’t leave me be. I left my family what eight years ago now. Haven’t had any peace pressence has always been there. … born in hell. I dint know what else to say.

Well you know what they say. Gotta poor your sexuality into something else. Like making love to god. Or jesus. Or blogging indiscriminately, unfiltered. It has to be raw. Or. Not at all. When uou have nothign good to say you sys nothing at all. Maybe in. Fairy tail ‘bout being saved by thee glorious father.

Maybe her boifriend, will show up and beat me up. Because she flirted to spite. Spite. Yeah, yeah. That word, works well. Think im being framed up again? Probably.

Hahah. Ugh. I mean. Im pretty celibate. So its usually from the opposing parties. Thats how it started. Even down near 6-8 yr’old. If its coming from women, its either a good desire that would play out right if present corcumstnaves werent treating me lije a marionnette or there wasn’t amole amounts of violent carnage preventing any act forward. Or its a dirty desire. And im turned off. And do the morally good thing. Ethically may be skitchy. The couple times it did. Treatment and marionnette and all that. Not in a healthy state of being. And thats beside the while line up of scripted ones. There to be serpents. Other people serpents. The white ones with the crow.

Where do you want me to step? Here?

Uh, ok. The added script. Strength from mother to the “king” the child as self. Mother to child. Leo. And death. A parental bond with mother. One showing trust and support. Missing piece to the script. My own, fuck her. Man. I cant do it. There’s nothing there. And for as long as im nothing but tred, i couldn’t afford to care even if i wanted to.

Now to see of i camt find something to watch that isnt predomiantly gay, or gradually drawn into being. Risky stuff. I live dangerously.

Like tomorrow war, where the threat is actually the russians. With there symbolic connection to man and the machine vs. Women and temptation. Gotta fight the good fight. It had monsters and russians in it. I should have known better. In godzilla it was what the Chinese? God sake. Gotta keep my uranus in sag occupied. Uh?

I soent what 20 years in a hole. Not being a part of the system. And then as soon as i do. “Covid”happens. Yeah, ok? Where the real world? I dont think ive met it yet.

Anyway. Crazy bs aside. Im grateful she left. Better pay, closer to home. Can’t go wrong. Even though she hurt me in two ways. Knowing that she wasn’t there to get in my way today. Was awesome. And the good feeling remains. The Dove and the Dragon. The dove, a portent to positive experience. This land is populates by too many crows though. The most dominate species here. Only in the spring and summer are they mostly chased away. Creating a loop of conditional experience. That of using the the functioning increases of solar energy to overcoming the negative association to growth. Its not at all different that the tv. Of fighting monsters and such. Except that there’s not an overlaying fabricated script over nature. And this function is towards the means of reproduction and establishing a suitable nesting home.

In high populated city zones, the natural is all but lacking. Amd the mass lives within a bubble of conditioning. Which cost millions of lives to make possible. While claiming peace on earth. Though millions of lives doesn’t seem so consequential considering the what now, eight billion?

Twisted metal does seem promising. Thanks justin.

No, it’s just sneaky. It hook punches you.

Well guess im goving up media. And going back to the wind.

Well y’all could give some hearts if your going to stock me anonymously. But no. Only the bad stuff.

[llamaqueenprompt]

Single In, Single Out

Characters: Luke Paterson, Reader

Not Requested

Word Count: 0.6k

Inspiration: Wedding -  Write about a family wedding where you are the only single - besides a ten-year-old.

Another family wedding to attend, another family gathering where everyone will be asking

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“When are we going to meet someone from your side y/n?”

“You know, women’s biological clock rings earlier than boys, so if you want to have kids you better worry up,”

Y/n couldn’t handle it anymore, she just wanted them to leave her alone, let her live her single lonely life by herself, she knows that she is the only one of the cousins that has no one, but still…

“Don’t feel bad Y/n, you are not the only one, I also don’t have a boyfriend,” the little girl put her hand on her cousin’s shoulder.

“Kelsey, you are ten years old, it’s normal that you don’t have a boyfriend” she smiled at the little girl.

“No it is not, everyone in my class has one,” and she just walked away to play with the other kids, leaving Y/n alone at the table with her noisy aunts and her lovely mother.

“Well, at least you have company in your singlehood,” her mother said laughing with her aunts following suit.

Seriously? She is comparing her 20 year old daughter being single with a 10 year old being single? Y/n felt like her life was slipping through her fingers and there is nothing  she can do about that. Her being single was always a sore subject in the family, everyone already expected her to at least have a ring on her finger by now.

“You know, I think she is not the only single here,” she shot her head in the direction of her father who appeared out of nowhere, “I heard that the groom’s brother is also a lonely twenty year old,” there it is, calling her lonely again, indirectly this time, at least.

Just because these people were all married before they turned 18, doesn’t mean everyone has to follow their footsteps, most of them are miserable and are just married because of their kids, it’s so wrong that she wants to wait and explore a little before settling down with someone she actually loves and that will complete her life nicely.

“You all know what? I’m done,” they looked at Y/n with their eyebrows crooked and people around them were looking over at their table since she talked a bit loudly, but at this point she don’t give two f’s “I’m done being called single in every language you people know, I am not following your footsteps of marrying my first love, because my first boyfriend was an asshole and cheated on me and now I’m in no rush to find someone to marry, I am 20 years old, for god’s sake, I am not 60 and need to find heirs for when I die, I have all the time in the world,”

They all just stared at her and then kept on talking like nothing had happened, like she was a crazy person having a meltdown. So she went outside for a little bit and sat on a bench that was originally put there for the newly married couple to take pictures, so it was filled with flowers and fairy lights.

She knew the conversation was dead for today, but it would come up another day, either at home or in another family event like this one.

“May I sit?” a stranger asked, a handsome stranger to be noted, “The speech you gave out there was actually quite inspiring,”

“Why? It made you feel good about your love life?”

“Well…not exactly,” he putted his hand in front of her, “I’m Luke Patterson, the other single person in this wedding,”

“Ohh, I’m Y/n, the original single person, nice to meet you,” 

“Nice to meet you too, fellow single,” he laughed as she shaked his hand.

Maybe this wedding wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

[lebenspurpur]

headcannons that just make sense

|Michael|

⇝ Michael loves children. He wouldn't want any himself but he enjoys watching them since Michael loves their natural lively imagination.

⇝ He loves candy, especially gummies and candy corn.

⇝ Michael enjoys reading. He is a quiet person and very intelligent. Reading is one of his favorite hobbies to gain knowledge.

⇝ Michael definitely broke through the floor in the old Myer's house before.

⇝ Michael likes cats, surprisingly. He doesn't understand the idea of pets but cats are so independent and quiet. He tries to copy their moves a lot.

⇝ This man literally doesn't have an ounce of social intelligence. Small talk with him would be so uncomfortable and awkward. He doesn't know how it works.

|Vincent|

⇝ Vincent is stronger than Bo.

⇝ He secretly despises the mask. His mom technically made it for him to make Vincent understand that he looks like a freak. He wishes he'd be more confident and could live without it.

⇝ Vincent loves Bo with all his heart even if he's a narcissistic asshole.

⇝ Vincent is scared for Lester a lot. Since he's younger Vincent wants to protect him.

⇝ Vincent wants to learn an instrument. Piano would be his favorite but violins are a close second place.

⇝ Vincent secretly adores being with both of his brothers, even if one bullies him and the other one reeks.

⇝ Vincent doesn't like his father. They never had a close relationship.

⇝ The things Vincent has done for the aesthetic of them... God..

|Bo|

⇝ Bo would actually sacrifice himself for both of his brothers.

⇝ He feels bad about treating Vincent like he does but his pride is too big for him to apologize.

⇝ Bo doesn't actually know how to repair cars but he's learning.

⇝ Bo wishes he could draw like Vincent.

⇝ He is very lonely sometimes, alcohol is his best friend in these times. He's high-key alcoholic.

⇝ Bo was the child in elementary school that brought a knife to class.

⇝ He had a teacher that realized his abuse and subsequent aggression. She protected him and he saw her like a mother.

⇝ Bo sometimes wants to leave Ambrose and just discover what lays beyond his beloved America.

|Lester|

⇝ Lester loves Halloween, he makes the twins go trick or treating with him. Since nobody opens the door (what a surprise), he buys candy himself and places filled bowls all over town.

⇝ Lester has a very close relationship with Vincent. He stands up for him when Bo gets too harsh.

⇝ As a child he used to sleep in Vincent's bed when he had a nightmare.

⇝ Lester believes in true love which is absolutely adorable.

⇝ Lester has had emotional deep talks with his dog, Jonesy.

⇝ Lester was the child that actually loved his parents, he misses them a lot.

⇝ He used to run to the forest and looked for fairies and goblins as a child.

⇝ Lester likes to watch Vincent draw, it calms him when he's stressed.

|Otis|

⇝ Otis would never tell them but he loves his adoptive family, the Firefly family, so much.

⇝ He's sure that if they hadn't found him he'd be dead by now. Either because of drugs or suicide.

⇝ Otis secretly wants a dog.

⇝ He is very intelligent and if he tries he can actually be impressive when it comes to stating his opinions and beliefs.

⇝ Otis daydreams daily how his life would've worked out if he was "normal".

⇝ He overthinks his actions a lot. He doesn't feel bad about them but he analyzes the mistakes so they won't happen again.

|Baby|

⇝ Baby has had days where she just laid in bed and cried. She isn't always as happy as everyone believes.

⇝ Baby was very insecure about her body as a teenager. The other girls bullied her which led to quickly decreasing confidence.

⇝ Baby is very glad to have Otis as a brother, he's her ultimate idol.

⇝ Baby is scared by horror movies. She's not squeamish but she gets scared easily, especially when the subject's demons or supernatural horror.

⇝ Baby fell in love with a girl in her school once. Unfortunately it was a bully of hers.

⇝ Baby forced Otis multiple times to go and buy pads for her.

|Billy|

⇝ Billy is a little geek and we all know it.

⇝ Definitely a gamer though back in his time, video games just started developing.

⇝ Billy has comfort characters without knowing what that means.

⇝ He has thought about making out with Stu before.

⇝ Billy is a very emotional person even if he doesn't show it in public. The only one who has seen the emotional side is Stu.

⇝ Billy wants to dress more alternative but that'd ruin his "perfect disguise". He'd love some leather boots and dark eyeliner.

|Stu|

⇝ Stu is sure that he's bisexual though he hasn't outed himself yet. His closet is made out of glass let's not lie here.

⇝ Stu is actually a very empathetic character which is why Billy loves him so much.

⇝ Stu loves everything that involves rollercoasters, he's an adrenaline junkie.

⇝ He either has ADHD or ADD.

⇝ He is actually pretty tolerant with a lot of stuff. He'd definitely wear nail paint and a skirt, sure. He's all against toxic masculinity.

⇝ His room is so fucking messy.

|Brahms|

⇝ Brahms has porn magazines hidden in the walls.

⇝ Brahms really likes gardening. He's a huge fan of planting his own stuff.

⇝ He is terrified of wild animals. This man is literally scared of wolves even though that's the last thing that'd attack him.

⇝ Brahms doesn't like fire all that much. He usually sits far away from it.

⇝ If he had a camera he'd totally take creepy stalker pictures through the walls.

⇝ He knows how to cook, surprisingly. Though he himself lives off of toast and tea.

⇝ He isn't stupid but his intelligence mainly bases on literature. He couldn't solve a simple equation yet he knows "Romeo and Juliet" like he wrote it.

⇝ Brahms hates sports. Especially running. He will throw himself on the ground after two minutes and whine.

|Josef|

⇝ Josef either lives vegan or vegetarian.

⇝ He wishes he had a pet. He'd love a cat or a dog.

⇝ Josef actually loved his parents even if they didn't have a close relationship. They passed away which is why he has so much money.

⇝ Bisexual king. I mean come on, he wanted to seduce Aaron as well as Sara.

⇝ He knows a lot about healthy eating. Fresh vegetables as well as fruit are a must in his house.

⇝ He doesn't actually have a house, he rents apartments or tiny houses for a few months and then leaves again.

⇝ He wanted to study medicine when he was a teenager. His grades were good enough as well.

|Thomas|

⇝ Thomas loves animals a lot. He wishes he wouldn't have to slaughter them sometimes but at the time he didn't have a choice.

⇝ While he despises school he loves gaining knowledge. If it wasn't for the bullies he'd gone back to school.

⇝ He hums lullabies to himself while he works.

⇝ He has thought about killing Hoyt yet he knows that he isn't allowed to kill family.

⇝ Tommy never had the chance to understand what's so wrong about cannibalism. He kind of gets it though.

⇝ Thomas has a huge artisanal intelligence. He can craft very well, as well as repair things.

⇝ He makes little dolls and toys when he's not busy.

⇝ He too wishes he had a pet with fur so he could pet it.

⇝ He has stamina like an ox. Thomas is probably able to run for hours.

[rafescoke]

Crime ; Rafe Cameron

masterlist

Part #1

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Reader would do anything for the boy she loves from a summer ago.

Warnings: Story takes place at the start of season 2 (and some flashbacks from season 1), swearing, angst, death penalty, gaslighting, reader just needing help

A/N: i don’t think this is my best work at all :( but i’ll post the part 2 straight away!! didn’t know tumblr has a word limit now wtf

p.s; tell me what do you think of this fic!!

(Y/N) had begged for somewhere else to spend the Summer. She couldn’t go back to that place, not when there were too many memories that awaited her. No one seemed to listen to her, and her father continued to check something online.

“Rafe Cameron.”

“(Y/N),” she had smiled, and she thought about how gorgeous a boy could be. This man before her; with his hair messily parted and that goddamn blue eyes had her holding her breath, and she wasn’t in her usual demeanour.

“You come down here often?” Rafe asked, raising his eyebrows. (Y/N) watched as he chugged on his beer, and gave her another sly smile again.

“Um, not really. This is my first summer here.”

“That’s nice,” he shrugged, “Welcome to Obx.”

“Thanks,” she nodded, liking how Obx already is. She made a mental note to tell her friends back home about this island, and most importantly; Rafe Cameron.

“Do you wanna take a walk?”

(Y/N) never really accepted any boy’s invitation for a walk, because all the boys in the city never had good intentions with her. She never dated anyone, never bothered to do so.

“Sure,” she smiled, and walked alongside the dirty-blonde boy to the far end of the beach. He sucked in a breath, glancing at her from the corners of his eyes, and laughed.

“You look nervous.”

“You could be a mass murderer.”

“Isn’t that just the perfect person to spend the summer with?”

(Y/N) looked up at him, the moonlight from the sky illuminating his features. God, he really is beautiful. “I guess.”

“So would that be a problem if I killed someone before?”

(Y/N) laughed easily at the joke, bumping her arms against his. She felt a jolt from the touch, and swallowed her saliva. “No.”

Rafe chuckled, “Yeah. That’s more like it.”

(Y/N) had thought of that moment as nothing but a joke. A playful joke, meaning to flirt with her. The next few weeks were spent with only them two, sometimes in his house or (Y/N)’s stay. They were inseparable; always attached by the hips morning and night, and (Y/N) knew about all of his problems.

“Try it.”

“What? Coke?” She asked, bewildered. She looked down to the table, her hands fidgeting, and she quickly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked up to Rafe again, “I don’t know how.”

“Come on, I’ll show you,” he smiled, pulling her by her wrist and seated her beside him. She felt the jolt again, but she had gotten better at ignoring it.

Rafe lowered his hand, a finger placed on his left nostril, and snorted the line of white powder. He grunted, throwing his head back, and after a few seconds, he gave her a smirk.

“Your turn.”

(Y/N) smiled back, reaching for the rolled up bill before lowering his head to the last line. She took a deep breath, still so shaky, and snorted the powder before she could change her mind.

Her heartbeat quickened, and her mind was all over the place. She could feel her forehead getting clammy, and before she could do anything, Rafe cupped her face in his large hands.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” he expressed, looking straight into her eyes. (Y/N) didn’t realise she was starting to cry, and stared back into his eyes.

“You’re so pretty,” he said suddenly, rubbing comforting circles on her temples. (Y/N) relaxed under his touch, “Such a pretty girl.”

“I thought you’re friends with that Cameron boy,” her father suddenly said, shaking her out of her memories. (Y/N) closed her eyes, trying to push away the thoughts, and gave her father a grimace.

“So? I don’t want to see him.”

“What happened between you two? You used to ask me to move to Obx,” her father laughed, still clicking on the mouse to the laptop.

“People change, dad,” she muttered, and made her way back to her bedroom to be alone with her thoughts.

“Rafe! You don’t have to do this,” (Y/N) gasped, her hands around her mouth. She looked around the gazebo by the lake, her eyes brightening against the beautiful fairy lights and veins decorating the railings.

“It’s your last week here,” he shrugged, helping her to her seat before sitting for himself. He pointed to the food displayed before then, “Steak. Your favourite.”

“You are amazing,” she expressed, her eyes suddenly glassy. The lake never looked so calming, and (Y/N) wished she could capture this exact moment in her head.

“Just thought you should see the other side of Rafe Cameron,” he shrugged, his lips forming into a smile. “I’m glad you came down here to Obx.”

“Me too,” she breathed, and went for the food. “I’m so glad to have met you.”

“Yeah?” He chuckled, cutting his steak into small pieces before biting into one. “Didn’t you called me a mass murderer the first time we met?”

“It was a joke,” she rolled her eyes, “But I’ll still like you even if you are.”

She didn’t know the truth behind her words.

“You will?” He looked up to her, grinning. “And just like?”

“Just like. What are you playing at, Rafe?” She faked groan, putting her cutleries down and clasping her hand together. “What? You’re going to propose to me or something?”

Everything happened so fast; Rafe chuckled, awkwardly running his fingers through his fair, messing with his slicked back hair. She liked this messy hair better, but she liked anything about Rafe Cameron, messy hair or not.

“No.”

Rafe held out the tiny velvet box in his hands, and (Y/N) never saw a prettier smile than his.

“No,” she repeated, her breathing heavy. She was too shocked by this, only meaning the proposal part of her speech as a joke, and looked into his sincere eyes again.

“I’m not proposing to you,” he laughed, getting down to one knee and opening the box to a beautiful diamond ring. (Y/N) sucked in a breath, mesmerised. “I will though, in the future.”

“Oh my god, Rafe, I can’t accept this,” she gasped, watching as the diamond glinted under the bright light. “You’re too much.”

“It’s a promise ring,” he smiled, “And a proposal to ask you to become my girlfriend.”

He sucked in a breath, and (Y/N) swore her heart stopped. She never thought of herself worthy as these kind of moments, but here she was; all teary eyed, her hand against her heart to calm her crazy heartbeat.

“Will you be my girlfriend, (Y/N)?”

She laughed, wiping the tears that had rolled down to her cheeks, and cupped his face into her hands. “You’re so fucking dumb. Of course I will, asshole, without this whole dinner thing. You could ask me while we’re in the swimming pool and I’ll say yes.”

Rafe laughed, melting into her hands, before taking out the ring he had saved up for (by not buying anymore coke) and asking for her permission to slide it over her ring finger.

(Y/N) nodded, holding her breath, and the diamond ring slid to her finger, and she gasped at how pretty it looked. She wondered about how much it had cost Rafe to buy the ring for her, but pushed the thought away when Rafe tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“We haven’t even kissed yet.”

(Y/N) laughed, “I told you you’re too fast, Rafe.”

Rafe smiled, inching closer to her, and (Y/N) just instantly stopped thinking. He was so beautiful, so angelic, and she wished she could stay at Obx forever.

“I love you, (Y/L/N).”

“Rafe,” she expressed, placing her forehead against his, “I love you too, okay?”

(Y/N) groaned, deepening her face against the soft pillow. She felt like screaming, but she didn’t have the energy to do so.

She would do anything for Rafe, and the next few days after that proposal went too fast that she felt like God was being unfair to her. He made her feel so good, and no one had made her feel the way he made her feel.

She felt like she was in heaven.

Until that one, certain Friday; the day before she went back to New York.

“Rafe, please,” she cried, pulling him by shirt as he pointed the gun at the sheriff, his eyes flaring up in anger. “Rafe, it doesn’t have to be this way.”

She looked at Ward, who looked afraid as well, and sucked in a breath. “You told me-”

“Shut up!” He grunted, his own fingers trembling on the trigger. “Fuck! Shut up.”

She didn’t know what to do. Sarah was looking at her for help, but she had tried her best to console him. She tried to reach for him again, to which he quickly pushed her away.

“Do that again, and I’ll kill you next.”

“Rafe-”

“Shut up!” He yelled again, and before she could do anything the pulled on the trigger, and the sheriff fell to the ground with widened eyes.

“Hey.”

(Y/N) jolted from her position at the knock, and groaned when her mother came in. She scooted away, giving her some space on the bed, and laid with her face planted against the pillow again.

“You never told us about what happened with you and Rafe,” she sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“Okay, so why don’t you want to go to Obx for the summer?”

“I want new boyfriends.”

Her mother laughed, “Okay. Then find new boyfriends in Obx. The blonde boy who helped us carry our bags the first time we arrived there can be one.”

“JJ?”

“He’s always around the island too, helping people for money,” she shrugged, “That’s a good kid. Doing honest work for honest money.”

“I’m not actually looking for a boyfriend, mom,” she rolled her eyes. “It was a figure of speech.”

“Well,” she stood up, “You better be looking for one. We’re spending the summer in Obx, and that’s final.”

. . .

(Y/N) rubbed her eyes against the glowing sunlight of North Carolina, her body screaming with pain from hours of sitting in the same position. She heard the pilot said something, her mind still woozy from only being caffeinated, and placed her head against the seat again.

“It’s a bright day, like it’s waiting for us,” her mother exclaimed, fixing her sunglasses before walking down the stairs to the road. (Y/N) groaned, still so tired, and she wished for nothing but to stay in her room with Netflix to watch.

“Hey, Mr (Y/L/N),” JJ smiled, and (Y/N) noticed the fake exterior he was trying to portray. “Come down here for another summer again?”

Her mother, who admired JJ’s ‘honest work’ gushed out to beside him, asking about his school and his works. (Y/N) rolled her eyes, not interested in making any new conversation, and she looked back at the area where the incident took place.

JJ caught her looking, and when her parents and the little brother had entered the car, he went to her to help her with her bags.

He crouched down, wrapping his fingers around the handle, and quickly whispered. “You saw, right?”

“Huh?”

“What Rafe did.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she muttered, and went into the car before he could say anything else.

God. Just how she expected her first moments after arriving in Obx.

“Hey! Welcome back!”

“You called the Camerons?” She groaned, looking at her father for some kind of useless explanation. After the brief conversation with JJ, she wanted nothing that could remind her of Rafe and hoped she could stay in her room for the whole 2 months.

“(Y/N), wait-”

She barged into her room for 2 months, noticing the old posters she had put up the year before, and thought about how happy she was at that time. She felt nothing now, and she couldn’t wait until the end of summer.

“Fuck!” She yelled, her head feeling so light, and placed herself before the naked bed. She sighed, trying to calm herself down, and thought of the ways to ignore the certain boy a few miles away.

Maybe he’s in college.

Maybe he’s going to leave her alone.

Maybe he has found someone new.

She felt a tug at the thought of the last sentence, and she couldn’t explain why she would even be devastated over him finding a new girl. That’s good, she guessed, at least she doesn’t have to think about staying away from him again.

Maybe she should spend her time with the pogues; JJ’s friends. They looked fun to hang with.

“Hey, (Y/N).”

“I’m not in the mood,” she grunted, shielding her eyes from the sunlight. “What do you want?”

“Can we go to the beach?”

“The beach?” She huffed, “We just arrived. Shouldn’t you clean your room or something?”

“Okay. But can you bring me to the beach after I’m done?”

“I’ll think about it,” she expressed, but after a few hours of sweeping and mopping the dusty room, placing the new bedsheet over the mattress and taking down her old posters, all she wanted to do was get out for some fresh air. She had slept most of her time in the plane so she wasn’t feeling like taking a nap at all, and she guessed it would be appropriate to bring her little brother to the beach.

She walked to her room, her hands around her waist. “Hey, you’re- where the fuck did you get that?”

“What?” He asked, raising the frame with his sister’s arms around Rafe, smiling happily at the camera. “This? Isn’t he your boyfriend?”

“Throw that away!” she yelled, “I said throw that away!”

“Okay, okay,” he groaned, throwing the frame into the big plastic bag before dusting the dust off of him. “Can we go to the beach now?”

“You’re an asshole, do you know that?” She huffed, watching as he changed into his swimming shorts, “And we’ve been cleaning for 3 hours. You’re not half done yet.”

“Whatever,” he said, and closed the door. “Just wait for me downstairs.”

The ride to the beach didn’t take long, and (Y/N) actually felt peaceful riding the bicycle and letting the breeze hit her square on the face. She had laughed at a stupid joke by her little brother, and she thought about how she could do this for the next 2 months.

“I wanna learn how to surf,” he said, letting the water soaked his feet and dumped his feet into the sand. “Do you?”

“You’ll forget how to when we’re back in New York,” she mumbled, gazing at the sky, “Also your body’s too weak to fight the waves.”

“No, it’s not,” he argued, “What are you going to do for the summer, (Y/N)? Are you going to be with that-”

“No,” she quickly said, curling her toes at the feeling of the water soaking her feet. “I’m not going to be with anyone.”

“Isn’t that your friend?”

“Ha-ha, nice joke,” she laughed falsely, still closing her eyes against the bright sky. “Who’s the friend? Is it Rafe?”

“Hey.”

(Y/N) sat up straight, her heart beating wildly, and what greeted her sight sent shivers down to her spine, and she quickly clutched onto her little brother’s wrist before pulling him away.

“Ow! What are you doing? (Y/N), let me go!” Lucas groaned, looking back at the boy who wanted nothing but to talk to his sister. “Rafe, help!”

“Shut up, you bitch,” she groaned, still pulling on his wrist. She knew about the possibility of leaving a claw mark on his skin, but she wanted nothing to do with the boy.

“Help me, Rafe! She’s going to kill me!”

“I said shut up!” She yelled, her chest heaving now, and she didn’t care about her hair that was hanging loosely from her hairclaw.

She didn’t know if Rafe was chasing after her, and she didn’t dare to look back.

“Ride your bike home,” she fumbled with the handle, “Now. Please, now!”

“Okay,” Lucas groaned, “What’s wrong with you? It’s just Rafe.”

“Go!” She yelled, already set to cycle back home, with her clothes all wet and sticking against her skin. She couldn’t breathe, and she hated the sight of him. She cycled back home hurriedly, tears streaming down her face, and she wished she had stayed home.

The night after the day on the beach she didn’t bother to come down for dinner, only staying in her room and browsing through Netflix. She didn’t feel like doing anything, and she hated how quick her mood was ruined.

She didn’t think about seeing him that quickly, especially after just arriving on the island that morning. This was exactly the problem; she couldn’t face him, not after what he did, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn him to the authorities. She was pushing him away, but at the same time protecting him.

The next morning, she felt shittier than ever. Being in the small island, where everywhere she goes could remind her back to Rafe, she decided to stay in bed and browse through more movies, only going downstairs for a glass of water before going back to her room. She was glad Lucas and her parents were enjoying most of their time here in Obx, and she would do the same if it weren’t for what happened last year.

She was scared. She was mad at herself too, because she couldn’t bring herself to tell anyone about what she saw. As much as she hated him now, a part of her still loved him.

“(Y/N)! Wait!”

“Get the fuck away from me!” She yelled, her eyes red and her cheeks wet. “You’re a fucking psycho.”

“No, no, baby, please-”

“Don’t call me baby, I swear to fucking god!” She yelled again, getting into the car and watched as Rafe desperately banged against the car window, pleading for her to hear him.

“It’s not what you think-”

(Y/N) cried, her head painful, and slowly slid the diamond ring from her finger before lowering the window by a slit and throwing it outside. Rafe watched the ring roll away but didn’t care to fetch it, only trying to speak to her through the tiny slit.

“I had to do it, please,” he begged, “Please. Baby. I can’t do this-”

“Go to hell,” she hissed, and sped away.

That was the last time she had ever seen Rafe, and she knew he tried to contact her with different phone numbers every day, but she had blocked every single number. The trouble stopped after a while, and (Y/N) realised how much she had been missing him.

Who could she confront about this?

Who could she tell?

She couldn’t. She loved him too much.

A week after settling in their summer home, (Y/N) was tired of all the screaming and nudging by her mother for her to get out of the house, and ‘get a life’. She didn’t feel like having a whole summer of just hanging out at the beach, not when the last time she had went there and bumped onto Rafe, so she decided to keep her distance off Figure 8 and made her way to the other side of the island.

She had only been there twice with Rafe before, to pick up something at Barry’s (he told her not to worry about it), so she never really quite get used to the road around here.

She stopped the jeep by the side of the road, glancing at the signboard and the road behind her. Did she go too far? Or was this just the wrong way?

She rested her back against the car door, already tired, and decided to just wait until she was good enough to drive home.

It was half an hour later when she heard the roaring of a motorcycle, and she quickly got to her feet, her chest suddenly heaving.

“Yo? You’re okay?”

“Huh?” She fixed her hair, “Um- yeah. Just resting.”

JJ nodded, “You should turn off your engine. You don’t want to-”

Just right on cue, the engine stopped completely and (Y/N) groaned, getting into the car to turn the engine again. It made some noise, until silence fell between them.

“That’s what I’m saying,” JJ said, “Where are you heading to?”

“Oh, nowhere in particular,” she sighed, getting out of the jeep and shutting the door angrily. Good. Just like how she wanted her day to be.

“Let me send you back home,” he offered, pointing to the black ride behind the jeep. She shook her head, her mouth forming into a tight smile.

“That’s alright, I can-”

“Walk back home? Come on, you’re far from Figure 8, and you’re 50 minutes away from The Cut on foot.”

She didn’t exactly wish for this, but it would help.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, helping her up to the motorcycle and placing her hands on his shoulders for some balance.

“You’ve never ridden a bike before?” JJ asked, half-amused. “No, no, because you look nervous.”

“I’ve just never ridden a bike with you driving,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Can you send me to the taxi stop or anything?”

“Really? Why can’t I just drive you home?”

She groaned, “Just send me to the taxi port, Maybank.”

He laughed, putting his helmet on, and (Y/N) placed her hands against her ears at the loud sound of the engine.

(Y/N) hate to admit it; but the ride to The Cut was the most thrilling thing that she had ever felt in months. She felt a smile slowly forming onto her face, and JJ swore he could see it too from the side mirror, and when they finally stopped at the taxi port, she was so happy she felt like buying a bike for herself.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said. “Minus one point for no helmet.”

“I didn’t know I would see you laying by the side of the road,” he rolled his eyes, a hint of teasing in his tone. “But where’s the fun when you’re all safe?”

She hummed in response, “I’ll see you around then.”

“So you’re just going to get an expensive ride back to Figure 8? Why wouldn’t you let me send you off?”

She knew exactly why, but she didn’t want to admit it. She was scared of Rafe seeing her on JJ’s bike, knowing that he’s not on good terms with the pogues, and the last thing she had ever wanted was to make him feel like he was being replaced.

“Don’t trouble yourself too much, JJ,” she sighed. “Besides, you can see me for the next 2 months everyday if that’s what you want.”

He grinned, “Good offer. Will think about that soon.”

(Y/N) laughed, tilting her head to one side before making a move to reach for her phone. JJ watched as she filled in her passcode, went straight to Contacts, and handed him the phone.

“What’s this?”

“Oh god, you’re annoying,” she rolled her eyes. “Put in your McDonald’s order.”

JJ laughed again, his fingers sliding over her phone screen easily to fill in his number, and he handed her the phone back after saving his name as ‘Handsome pogue’.

“I’ll see you around, (Y/L/N).”

(Y/N) smiled, this time sincerely, and she thought about the possibility of spending her summer in The Cut with JJ where she knew there would be no troubles awaiting her.

It was safe to say that JJ and (Y/N) were inseparable after spending so much time together the next few weeks. Everywhere JJ goes, (Y/N) would be there with him, either by helping him with his work in the restaurant or running for groceries to deliver with him. She liked it with him; he took her mind off Rafe, and that was everything that she needed.

JJ knew about the girl’s relationship with Rafe last year, but he was careful not to cross the invisible line. He was gentle with her, always studying her reactions at certain places (he was sure Rafe had taken her to those places before) and in return, she knew everything about him.

“I’m sorry about your dad,” she bit her lips, letting the water soaked her jeans as they laid on the sand, gazing at the view. She felt sorry for the blonde boy after knowing the truth about his father, and wished she could help him in any way.

“That’s okay,” he replied. “Hey, I’m bringing you to meet my friends. Would you like that?”

“Your friends?” She raised her brows, “Like Kiera and Pope?”

“Yeah,” he smiled, “Would you like to meet them?”

(Y/N) thoughts went back to the many times Rafe had told her about the pogues, but she always saw them as a tight group of friends who always had each other’s backs. She never had that kind of friendship before, especially living in New York where almost everyone is fake, and sometimes wished she could have something like that.

“Okay, yeah,” she nodded, “Would they like me?”

“You’re kidding? You’re amazing!” JJ gushed out, throwing his arms onto the air before slapping the water, resulting in a splash across her face.

She gasped, “Fuck, you’re fucking dead.”

“No, no, I don’t mean it-”

The conversation turned into a water fight, their screams filling the air and attracting everyone’s attention, but (Y/N) didn’t care. She was enjoying the moment, with JJ, and she wished she could do this forever.

“Stop it!” JJ laughed, pushing her down to the sand before pinning her arms on top of her head. He watched as her chest heaved, a smile playing on her lips.

He pulled away, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

(Y/N) pulled him into a kiss, her fingers wrapping themselves around his jawline and allowing the water to completely wet their whole body. JJ softened into the kiss, still so shocked, but he never felt better than ever.

(Y/N) pulled away, giggling. “You’re red in the face, JJ.”

“Huh?” He smiled, and quickly pulled her up with him. “Let’s go to the Chateau. Get you cleaned up.”

“I’m not meeting your friends looking like this, J,” she rolled her eyes, pushing him away slightly. He pulled her close, placing a soft kiss against her forehead that left her all breathless.

“Why not? You’re still pretty.”

She made a face, but let her body be pulled away by JJ to his bike. She was nervous, of course, to see his friends, but she decided it was time anyways.

If she was to date JJ, then she would have to meet his friends and talk to them eventually.

When (Y/N) first entered the chateau, she didn’t know what to expect. Pope and Kiera were friendly to her, but she could feel the strange vibe between her and Kie, but they were both trying to be polite not to mention anything.

(Y/N) knew there was somebody missing from the group, but she didn’t dare mention it to anyone. JJ had hinted about this to her before, something about John B getting convicted, but she had tried her best to stray away from the topic.

“Let’s play truth or dare,” Kie smiled, clasping her hands together and laying her back against the chair. She watched as JJ whispered something to (Y/N), feeling her heart tightened when she laughed, and shook her head. Kie would never let anyone like her trouble her.

“JJ, truth or dare,” Kie said, crossing her arms. Her question was directed to JJ, but she watching (Y/N) intently.

“Dare.”

“Come on, we’re short of one person who could think of the best dares,” she said, and (Y/N) realised the piercing tone and attention towards her. She sucked in a breath, not sure if she was just stating or directing the statement to her in a satirical manner.

“Okay, truth,” JJ rolled his eyes.

“Do you miss John B?”

“Kie-” Pope groaned, “Not the time.”

(Y/N) watched as he glanced at her, but quickly pulled away when he realised she was staring at him too.

“Okay, since you guys wanna be such assholes,” Kie sat up straighter. “(Y/N), truth or dare?”

“I’m not playing.”

“Of course you’re playing,” Kie laughed, “You’re fucking with JJ now right? You gotta show-”

“Shit, Kie, what’s your problem?” JJ sighed, throwing his arms up into the air. “She’s a friend of mine.”

“She’s not your friend!” She suddenly exclaimed, “She fucking saw Rafe shot Sheriff Peterkin but decided to keep her stupid mouth shut because-”

“Stop it!” JJ yelled, pushing her against the seat. “Kie! Not right now!”

“What do you mean not right now?” (Y/N) asked, disbelief lacing in her tone. What was even happening? She was having the best time of her life a few hours ago at the beach, and now this?

“Oh, did your boyfriend not tell you?” Kie laughed. “It’s all an act for you to confess to him that you saw Rafe kill Sheriff Peterkin. Don’t fucking act dumb with me, (Y/N), you saw, and you didn’t tell anyone.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she gritted her teeth, “I never saw him kill anyone.”

“Bullshit!”

“Kie!” JJ yelled, using all of his power to hold off the struggling girl. He motioned for Pope to take over and tried to reach (Y/N), only for her to walk straight towards the exit.

“Wait, wait, I don’t mean it-” he sighed, wrapping his fingers around her wrist before pulling her close. “I don’t-”

“You betrayed me,” she said. “Are you that stupid? So you planned about helping me to the taxi stop so that I can confess whatever it is about Rafe? Is that your fucking plan?”

“No, oh my god, I didn’t mean-”

“Fuck! I know I can never trust you guys,” she hissed, pulling her hand away before walking towards the door. She groaned again when she realised the lack of a vehicle to drive home, but she rather walk back home than be in the same distance as JJ or Kie or anyone else.

She walked alone all the way to the main part of town so that she could hire a cab, and just to make her day any better; the rain suddenly decided it was time to cool the island, and (Y/N) was left to soak.

She put her arms around her, shivering slightly, looking back at her previous way and wondering how much time she had spent walking from the Chateau. If only she had driven all the way from Figure 8 to The Cut, she wouldn’t have had to waste her time walking mindlessly.

A few minutes after, she saw a car pulling up beside her. She decided to ignore the black vehicle in hope for whoever it is to finally give up.

“Get in, (Y/N).”

Part #2

[umber-cinders]

Title: 𝐼𝑓 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑆ℎ𝑜𝑒 𝐹𝑖𝑡𝑠

Pairing: Alpha!M’Baku x Black!OmegaReader

Summary: It has come time for Alpha M’Baku to cede his father in the role of packleader. You’re well aware of the so-called prophecy that was was given to Alpha M’Baku’s parents before he was born: To keep their lineage and pack strong and successful for generations to come, their first born son would have to find and mate with his soulmate. The entire concept is only vaguely interesting to you. You’re not fond of the idea of prophecies and fates, but they sure are fond of you.

Rating: MATURE (18+)

Warnings: 🔞This is a Dark Fairy Tale retelling of Cinderella, so there are dark elements. No that does not mean SA🔞, ABO/Omegaverse Dynamics, Threats and talks or violence/murder, Implied Sexual Content, Asshole Family

❥MasterList❥

You honestly don’t understand what all the fuss is about. M’Baku is lord and leader of Pack Jabari; he throws parties and formal events all the damn time. And yet your stepmother, Ifeoma, and her daughters are all in a tizzy as if the world was about to end when they received word of this one. It didn’t take long to find out why. As you were sweeping the floor between the kitchen and dining room, it took about five seconds for Ifeoma’s eldest daughter, Ngozi, to run her mouth.

“Lord M’Baku is looking for a mate!” She squealed excitedly. “This is going to be the biggest party of my entire life!”

“Yeah, but all omegas of the pack are invited.” Uloma told her sister serenely.

Ngozi narrowed her eyes. “So?”

“So—” Uloma smiles. “I’d hate for my only sister to get her feelings hurt when he ends up choosing me instead.”

“In your dreams, Lolo!” Ngozi snorts. “He doesn’t want a little girl, he wants a woman—An omega that will be able to stand by his side and rule the pack with him!”

“I am twenty-one! That is hardly a little girl! I am of mating age! Besides, a lot of alphas like fresh omegas to shape into their wives.” Uloma declared.

“We’re two years apart! I’m not stale goods yet!” Ngozi snapped.

Your face visibly scrunched up into an annoyed grimace. Not only was their bickering headache-inducing, but the subject matter was cringeworthy.

❥Read The Rest On Ao3 ❥

[imposterogers]

wouldn't pre-serum steve getting knocked into the trash in back alleys by assholes while standing up for what's right, count? he'd be the og since dumpsters were invented in 1935

pre serum steve was actually the club founder and designed the logo, and bestows the t shirt on dumpster bound vigilantes like a weird fairy god mother

[moonlight-inthesky]

Headcanon Dump Hour let's go-

• Zan struggled the most in adapting away from a cult-like environment. She's been at Hyness' side for years, much longer than her sisters. She had trouble finding new hobbies or interests for the longest time, and slightly envied Fran and Berge for finding new hobbies and jobs so much quicker. In reality, they struggled too, but they were more than willing to help Zan.

• Speaking of which, Francisca developed an interest in mystery and forensics. Flamberge developed an interest in music and learned how to play a guitar pretty quickly. And, eventually, Zan developed an interest in history, archeology, and culture.

• Adeleine lives a small house that she renovated from a trailer. It has essential stuff like a bed, kitchen, and bathroom, as well as a workspace for her while working on art projects. Dedede offered to get her a nicer house (numerous times), but she always declined. She prefers the smaller space.

• Meta Knight despises spicy food, and he was absolutely mortified when he witnessed Dark Meta Knight chug an entire bottle of hot sauce.

• Kirby loves shiny stuff! Coins, jewels, rocks, anything! As a toddler, he would straight up eat them, but nowadays, he just collects them. He'll sometimes take them off his shelf and move them around, just watching the shine move.

• There is a Queen of Patchland, and she's doing pretty well! She's actually a Queen consort, but her husband, the King, disappeared when Fluff was still young. Fluff wasn't given the title of King, as Patchland has weird laws about the regnant being of age before being crowned king/queen/monarch. The Queen took on the regency and is ruling the kingdom until Fluff is of age. She was actually on a trip for peace talks during Epic Yarn, and was horrified when she returned to learned what happened.

• Susie's mother, Melissa, is the same species as the Mage Sisters, making Susie a hybrid. Melissa actually taught Susie how to play piano, and definitely influenced her hobbies in music. Susie's parents were divorced, and she last saw Melissa a month before her (Susie's) disappearance. Susie doesn't know where her mother is nowadays, if she's even still alive. She's still grieving over her father, so she's not interested in looking for now.

• Marx used to be a jester in King Dedede's court. Dedede hired him to entertain the Waddle Dees and, being a Noddy, Dedede assumed Marx would be rather harmless. Not even a month later, Dedede kicked him out of the castle for playing nasty pranks on the Waddle Dees and making vague threats about taking over Popstar. Nowadays, Marx still has some animosity towards Dedede, but he's chill with the Waddle Dees, and even befriended a couple of them!

• Gryll is the local cool big sibling. Gryll is usually pretty cheerful and friendly towards children, and usually plays fair with them during competitions. Gryll is also rather irresponsible, completely willing to let kids do stuff parents would never dream of. For example, one time they let a bunch of kids go blow of fireworks, and even joined them. If it makes them happy, then Gryll doesn't care. Until one of them is on fire lol

• Some legends say that Nightmare was once the God of Dreams, giving the Ancients access to his magic to create the Fountain of Dreams and the Star Rod. However, from unknown circumstances, The God of Dreams was corrupted and became the wizard Nightmare, hellbent on corrupting the Fountain of Dreams and spreading Nightmares. It's unknown if this is the true backstory Nightmare, or if he was always some asshole wizard that felt like making people suffer.

I have more headcanons for the fairies but I'll save that for another post.

[anika-ann]

Attached: The One Word

The Three Times Steve Didn’t Get to Hear the One Word He Wanted and the One Time He Did

Type: series, modern-college-professor Steve AU… aka the wrong attachment AU ;)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 7700 👀

Summary: In which Steve really, really wants to ask you the question, but the odds are always against him – absurdly so. Maybe it’s fate and he shouldn’t ask. Or maybe the universe just hates him and punishes him for tainting a girl like you and wanting you all for himself officially.

Warnings: lots of swearing, crack-ish, briefest smut so 18+ only please, sickness and fluff

A/N: I say this to you, my friends – I do not at all envy men in a heterosexual relationship for being expected to pop the question. I would chicken out every time, I’m sure of it. Enjoy!

Story masterlist

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Steve liked to think important things through. He liked planning. He liked to have all the facts and view things from different angles before making a decision.

Therefore, wanting to marry you was something he was perfectly certain of and two months after he received your mother’s blessings – two months of slowly reducing costs, preparing to lower incomes, not that they had ever been glorious ever –, Steve had a feeling that the time was finally right and that he was ready to pop the question. He was.

The only problem was that the universe started plotting against him.

Big time.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

1.

Palmeri was a relatively new restaurant, but quickly gaining reputation. Steve had heard Carol talking about taking her girlfriend there for the fun of trying a new spot and getting a taste of fancy Italian. Clearly that had a good time; the moment he learned, he started considering it. Two days later, he had to make a reservation for a week later, because the word of the delicious food travelled fast.

That was fine with him, even if he felt like he was about to jump out of his skin before the date finally arrived. Still, he advertised the fact to you that he would like to celebrate your early wrapped up exams already foreshadowing that you would obviously slayed the one you were supposed to have a day prior Friday.

When you heard the name of the restaurant, your eyes twinkled like fairy lights, a squeal of delight escaping your lips before they swiftly found his to kiss him crazy. Steve’s heart thundered in his chest as you ran off back to your books with newly-found motivation, his nerves mingling with the satisfaction that you appreciated his idea – even if you couldn’t have no clue about what he was about to do.

He could only hope that you’d be as delighted at him sinking to one knee.

But he would have to get out of this fucking interfaculty meeting FIRST!

“Seeing as the satisfaction of the students apparently took a nose dive according to the university poll last month…” Fury continued rambling, his serious and mildly snarky voice carrying through the conference room, as if mocking Steve who anxiously eyed the clock, again.

The reservation was for seven thirty.

It was five to seven.

Half an hour ago, Steve hated the idea of not taking a shower and looking his absolute best while proposing to you.

Now? Every option looked better than this. He would arrive to the restaurant all sweaty and catching his breath if he took off right this moment. And even that seemed impossible; president Fury, that son of a bitch, was nowhere close to ending the meeting.

51 weeks. 51 Fridays Fury could have called the meeting.

Nope, that bastard picked this one, the one Friday Steve was planning on sweeping you off your feet and asking you to be his for the rest of your lives.

Fucking asshole.

“Got anything to add, Professor Rogers?” a gruff voice asked him and Steve jumped in his chair and nearly dropped the phone he was pulling out of his pocket to text you with his deepest regrets – but he had to, otherwise you’d already be on your way.

Best if he saved you the embarrassment; best if you stayed home at least, all dolled up and pretty and smiling for him to show off.

Goddammit fuck.

Steve’s eyes snapped to Fury, meeting a glare that seemed even sterner with only one functioning eye.

Steve gritted his teeth and determinedly gripping his phone.

“No,” he shot back, biting his cheek when Fury’s eyebrow rose at his snappy tone. “I mean… I need to make a phone call. If you’d excuse me, it will be just a minute.”

Likely story. He would have to be apologizing for at least three minutes straight and then crawl on his knees when he finally got back home; not because you’d be so unforgiving and angry, but because it would be the right thing to do after disappointing your precious heart.

He was about to make you sad. He fucking hated making you sad.

“Make it three tops,” the president grumbled, but luckily didn’t pry what was so important for him to leave the room.

“Stevie!” your bright voice greeted him from the speaker and Steve’s heart seized in his chest, his fist automatically clenching in anger. He was about to crush you because of a dumb-ass useless meeting. He brought the fist to his mouth to stop himself from greeting you equally delighted way and fleeting the university grounds. “I’m just about to take off! I was getting worried you wouldn’t make it. Did Fury give you a hard time? … Steve?”

Steve, much to his horror, found his eyes prickling with tears of frustration as his name on your lips sounded suddenly unsure.

Fuck. This.

“Hey babygirl,” he said finally and the roughness of his voice must have been everything you needed to hear to understand.

“You can’t make it.”

Steve wanted to tear his hair out at the defeat in your voice. Talk about a nose dive of your mood.  He was gonna fucking scream.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered instead, the apology so pathetic in comparison to what he wanted to say.

But that was the irony – you couldn’t even begin to guess how much it sucked for the two of you to not being able to go to the damn Palmeri. You didn’t know the main tragedy, only a part of it. You didn’t know he had been about to propose.

Silence stretched between the two of you and Steve tilted his head back, blinking against the sting in his eyes, his stomach sinking to his feet.

“It’s not your fault,” you sighed eventually, sounding as if you were trying to convince him as much as yourself.

Steve could imagine precisely the disappointment on your face, the fall of your expression, pretty features no doubt having been accented by make-up just the right amount twisting. He could see clearly how your lips made for smiles turned downward, lower lip maybe even trembling a bit.

Steve was gonna murder Fury.

“But it is. I’m so sorry, I know how excited you were and so was I and— I’m just really sorry.”

“I know, Steve,” you breathed out weakly and he could hear the attempt of a smile in your next words. “Come home soon, yeah? I’ll wait for you.”

Steve’s heart grew in size so rapidly it actually hurt.

“I love you, sweetheart. I know--- I know you might not wanna hear it now and that it doesn’t mean much, but I really do,” he creaked.

“It does. Bye, Steve.”

Steve’s fingers clutched at the phone, eyes falling shut in defeat.

You were nice about it, sure, but the fact that you didn’t say I love you back didn’t escape him as didn’t the switch from Stevie to Steve; the subtle hints sat heavily in his gut as he returned to the room.

He met Bucky’s compassionate gaze – of course Buck knew about why Steve was distracted during the assembly – and quickly looked away, once again excusing himself for the interruption even if there was nothing sincere about his words.

His chest ached for the rest of the meeting – and would for the rest of the night.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

He did not come home soon – in fact, it was nearing eleven when he finally opened the door, trying to make no sound when he found the apartment plunged into dark. He grimaced, jaw clenching; you were already asleep.

A fresh surge of anger shot into his veins; the university hated him, he was certain of it – and the other way around. He had missed his shot because of a meeting that was literally about nothing. Fuck his life.

He grumbled, the only sound he allowed himself to make when moving around the apartment, switching the dimmest light he could as not to wake you – because disappointing you was enough, the least he could do was not to disturb your sleep.

Frustrated, tired and hungry, he tiptoed to the kitchen to grab a bite. He was starving and even though he was exhausted and craved nothing but to wrap his arms around you and sink into the cushions, he knew hunger would wake him up a few hours later if he went to bed with an empty stomach.

Upon opening the fridge, a surprise welcomed him; a ham & cheese sandwich ready on a plate, a small Tupperware box with pieces of tomatoes and cucumber on side, a sticky note simply reading ‘Stevie’.

His breath got stuck in his throat, heart hammering in his ribcage – that was how moved he was by your gesture. He knew that you must have been as upset as you had been excited to have the fancy dinner with him, but here you were, pushing your sorrows and anger aside and preparing him food, a possible olive branch.

The sandwich was nothing fancy by any means; but God, Steve loved you just a little bit more at that moment for he didn’t have to move a finger to eat so late and you even took care to set his vegetables aside, because you knew how much he hated when the bread got squishy with the juice.  

Gratefully biting into his late-night meal, Steve swore to himself he would spend the rest of his life spoiling you rotten.

When he finally got to cautiously cuddle you from behind – eyeing the absolutely stunning dress you were supposed to wear hanging outside the closet as if there to mock him – you stirred at the dip of the mattress.

Lazily blinking your eyes open, you welcomed him with a raspy hey and he had a half mind to just take the ring from the safety of its velvet box and slip it on your finger right there.

“I’m sorry, babygirl. I’m so so sorry,” he whispered, tentatively wrapping his arm around your midsection, unsure if he wasn’t in disgrace after all. You just hummed and rolled over to face him, burying your face in his chest, heavy limbs wrapping around him as if you were an octopus – the most adorable, precious, beautiful and perfect octopus in the world. His octopus. “I love you so much. I promise to make it up to you.”

“Uh-huh. Looking forward to it. Now sleep,” you mumbled to Steve’s sleepshirt, half-grumpy half-sounding as if not caring for what he was saying at all, causing him to feel warm all over.

Oh he was so going to show you just how he could make it up to you. He would marry the shit out of you.

Just you wait.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

2.

Because of a water incident, Palmeri closed three days after Steve’s first failed attempt – and assumptions were that it would remain so for a month, because they needed to redecorate.

That meant a new plan for Steve, because he could not wait that long. Out of question. He needed to hear you say yes as soon as possible. Yesterday had been too late.

So, he asked Sam for a recommendation – casually, he believed – and somehow ended up with the man looking at him for a few seconds before realization dawned on his face.

“Oooooh, I see how it is! Need something real nice, huh?” Sam whistled, a teasing grin on his face as he patted Steve’s shoulder for support. “Relax, I gotcha, man. All you need; cosy atmosphere, but classy, white table cloths and everything. The right place to take her to in order to butter her up and make her all putty.”

Steve didn’t manage to quite hide his embarrassment at being so obvious, but he knew that Sam was a friend and all his shit-talking was good-natured, always knowing where the boundaries were; he wasn’t a counsellor for nothing.

And Steve had to give it to him – the place he recommended was just what he promised it would be and exactly what Steve needed.

You were all smiles and some giggles, little tipsy on the second glass of the wine, eyes shining in the dim lights, somehow lighting up more whenever you caught him staring at you. It was the perfect display of all the good things you were, ones he adored about you, the light of his life and gazing at him as if he was yours too.

Downing some of the liquid courage himself and with you so gorgeously giddy, Steve felt his confidence building up during the night and was just about ready to get on one knee once you finished your shared dessert.

“This is good!” you gushed, digging the fork if into the cake to get another bite and Steve grinned, unable to help himself as he agreed.

“Uh-huh, sweet. But not as sweet as you.”

You stopped mid-chew, eyes meeting his and he felt his face burn hot with embarrassment at such cheesy comment.

You swallowed, gaze still fixed on him as he busied himself with the sweet treat, and then you chuckled, causing his face to turn entirely red.

“You, Steve Rogers, are so corny sometimes,” you mocked him lightly, but when he looked up, sheepish and with his confidence bruised, he found you all starry-eyed still, watching him adoringly as if he hung the moon – and he would, for you – and Steve felt himself settle again. “But I still love you. Maybe even more for that.”

It was a wonderful opening, things really going his way – but he hesitated a second too long, like an idiot, and the next thing he knew, a string quartet, a damn string quartet, walked straight to the elderly couple two tables over, one of the group congratulating them to their thirtieth anniversary and at that moment…

Well. At that moment, Steve really fucking hated them.

Who fucking cared they were a sweet elderly couple?! Steve could only dream about you two becoming them one day as of now, because they ruined just another of his fucking shots!

He couldn’t believe that he missed his window again.

And what more, you cooed under your breath, a silent aww falling from your lips and Steve knew that anything less than a string quartet accompanying a marriage proposal when delivered in a restaurant was a no-go.

So scratch that one off the list.

All guests clapped their hands, more of awws coming from different directions and you proceeded to take his hand, gentle fingers stroking over his knuckles and Steve knew one thing with absolute certainty; he needed to propose tonight otherwise he might burst.

At home then, he would ask you at home. Who even wanted something as cliché and public as he had planned? Lame. You were a private pair, some people still judged you upon seeing you together; a little intimate proposal in your home after a fancy sweet dinner would be just the thing.

Steve just had to figure how exactly and at what moment to ask. He’d be fine. You’d say yes. Right?

He was so preoccupied with his thoughts and plans that he barely noticed you growing skittish during the taxi ride, but he certainly noticed when you started practically jumping by his side as he was unlocking the door to your apartment, confused by your antics.

The second Steve opened it and stepped inside, he found himself being shoved back-first towards a wall, your hands on his chest, sliding up and down his coat and blindly undoing the buttons as your mouth assaulted his, a soft mewl vibrating against his lips, wandering hands appreciative when they slipped under the lapels of his coat and jacket.

Steve’s head spun at the display of desire, a sudden pleasant dizziness overtaking his body, all rational thoughts vaporizing as you rocked against his crotch, his cock twitching in excitement at the friction and at the way his tongue had to fight against yours. His brain grew foggy at the faint taste of wine and the cake you had shared, his hands automatically grabbing your waist to keep you close, fingers squeezing your hips and ass to urge you closer when he rolled his hips against yours, eliciting needy moans from your lips-

You withdrew for just a second to catch your breath, lips skimming over his jaw, revelling at the feel of his beard on your skin he knew you loved, hasty words whispered into his flesh.

“Dammit, Steve, you look so fucking hot in this suit--- oh Stevie,” you whimpered when his hands slipped under your backside to tease your clothed weeping core, the sensation setting his blood on fire, the delicious friction and your dirty mouth everything that mattered in the world. “Let me suck you off-“

Steve nearly choked on his own spit upon hearing that, almost losing his balance with his legs turning into jelly and all his blood rushing into his dick.

Yeah, Steve might be a professor but he was a simple guy.

When his girl, in those stunning hot as hell dress begged him to let her get on her knees to blow his dick and his mind, he really couldn’t find himself refusing, the coil in his belly searing hot by the time you looked up at him from under your eyelashes, so pretty, doe-eyed, lips kiss-swollen and willing and so fucking devilish as you freed his cock and licked the drop of precum already forming there.

“Fuck, babygirl, what’s gotten into you-“ was all he managed to ask before all he could think off was the velvety heat of your mouth, taking him all in and making him see stars, the jewellery box in the pocket of his coat long forgotten.

And fuck was also his first coherent thought in the morning, when he realized that once again, the proposal attempt ended up being an utter failure.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

3.

Steve had established after his two and half failed proposals that he wouldn’t make any reservations in some dumb restaurant. Just no. Privacy it would be; something personal, accompanied with a simple and yet big enough gesture, him doing something just for you, following with words of you being his world or something.

Yeah.

And for once, it seemed that the universe that had seemed to hate him, finally started playing in his favour.

The weather was going crazy, sun and spring in a middle of February and Steve had a revelation – he was going to take you out for a picnic. It was going to be perfect; he’d take you outside the city, find a quiet corner, just you and him, nothing in your way and more importantly, in his way to pop the question.

Steve was certain that you’d prefer this to anything else anyway, loving when he made an effort to create something for you. He still remembered when you first discovered he enjoyed drawing and you practically melted into a puddle when you found drawings of yourself too, allegedly displaying you prettier than you were – as if.

So, picnic it was.

Except on Friday, the day before THE DAY, Steve woke up with a splitting headache, his whole body hurting, nose full and lungs as if stuffed with cotton wool. He blamed the crazy weather, but it didn’t really matter where this sickness came from – he felt like shit.

He groaned and downright punched the alarm on his phone, startling you awake.

With bleary gaze, he registered you rolling over in his arms, squirming at him sleepily as he let his eyelids slip shut again.

“Steve, hun, are you okay?” you asked him softly, voice husky as he loved to hear it when you woke up, too adorable for him to keep his hands off you.

He sure as fuck wasn’t thinking about sweet and filthy morning loving now; he would have coughed out his lungs if he tried to move too much and some parts of him might fall off judging by how much everything hurt.

“Yeah,” he rasped, throat scratchy at the single word and as if from a distance, he heard a noise of sympathy, your palm instantly finding his forehead, gentle touch soothing against his burning skin.

“You’re absolutely not okay. Stevie, you’re burning up,” you whispered compassionately and Steve blinked his eyes open, the little light in the room causing him to snap them close again immediately. Ouch.

“Fuck my liiiiife,” he groaned, prolonging the last syllable, which proved to be a wrong thing to do, sending him into a couching fit due to his scratchy throat.

Your hands roamed his shoulders and back as he rolled over to his side from you, hoping to suck in some air to continue coughing.

“Oh Stevie, I’m sorry. I’ll bring you some medicine when I’m back from school, yeah? And I’ll make some soup,” you assured him kindly, dropping a kiss to his shoulder before your pleasant warmth disappeared, leaving him too cold and hot at the same time.

Seriously. FUCK HIS LIFE.

Grunting, he fell to his back, exhausted by one stupid coughing fit, whole body heavy; and he must have fallen asleep too, because the next thing he knew, soft lips were touching his forehead, tender fingers brushing messy strands of hair away. He stirred, forcing his eyes open to be greeted by a sight of that angelic face of yours, complete with a halo of light around you.

“I already called Bucky. He’ll sort out your classes today, alright? There’s a tea on your nightstand along with some last Tylenol we have.”

Steve squinted in the direction of the piece of furniture you mentioned and sure enough, there it was, everything you said it would.

What a pretty dutiful nurse you were. God, he loved you.

As he eyed you then, deep sense of longing settled in his swimming stomach, more so as he didn’t miss the gorgeous thermo leggings and long sweater hugging your figure, reaching your mid-thighs.

All Steve wanted was to pull you back to him so he had a human furnace in bed with him, the soothing smell of your shampoo to comfort him – even though he probably wouldn’t be able to smell it. But his hands would still be able to explore your delicious body, grope and hold it close to his and you could maybe ramble about everything and anything, lulling him to sleep.

But no, you were leaving to school, leaving him alone in the apartment.

Just him, himself and his fucking flu.

He eyed you wistfully, lips pursed at your concerned expression.

“When you’ll be back?”

The wrinkle between your brows smoothened, a smile playing in the corner of your mouth.

“I have class until eleven. I see what I can do. I’m gonna have to hit the pharmacy and make some shopping,” you explained patiently, casing Steve to groan. Too long. So so long… Your smile widened, another kiss landing on his temple this time. “But I’ll be back before you know it. Get some rest, Professor Rogers.”

Your teasing tone made him growl, the action effectively sending him into another coughing fit and through glassy eyes, he saw you disappear from the room with one last glance over your shoulder.

Steve closed his eyes and breathed in deeply – oh, the delicious air – and then buried himself in the covers, praying that a decent sleep would make him feel better.

It didn’t, not quite. What did make him feel much better was the Tylenol and the sirup you brought along.

The absolute best was when you were there for him to cuddle you to sleep in the evening; somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware that he was being a giant baby and was being utterly ridiculous, but God help him, this was all he needed the whole day.

He sighed blissfully as he hugged your midsection while you were sitting propped on the back-rest, soft light from the nightlamp illuminating the pages of the book you were reading. You were warmth, the gentle kind and Steve felt you seeping into him, fingers of one hand raking through his hair; he felt himself getting high on your loving care and cough sirup.

“I love having you here,” he muttered into the fabric of your pyjama, feeling you shift in your position a little, probably as you looked at him.

“Yeah?” you asked, sounding as if you were smiling, maybe even laughing at him; but he couldn’t care less, already drifting off to sleep, just content to have you.

“You’re warm and nice… and the prettiest nurse. And I love you. You’re my everything.”

“Oh Stevie,” you cooed sweetly, kissing the crown of his head and he preened at the sensation, smiling lazily. “I love you too.”

His heart skipped a beat as he nuzzled into your flesh and heard you gently toss the book away, your other hand now caressing his cheek.

“Yeah? Will you always be here? I want you to always be with me,” he admitted sheepishly, drawing a soft giggle and earning a kiss on his forehead.

“God, you’re adorable like this…”

Steve grunted, discontent with your reaction. “Not an answer.”

“I’ll always be here if you want me to, Stevie,” you answered dutifully, causing warmth fill his chest even if your body was shaking with hushed laughter; he felt it, but didn’t care. For your words however, he did; phew, as if he ever wanted something else, as if you had the right to question that!

He really needed to propose soon… just not tomorrow. You’d probably say no if he asked you, blaming his request on the fever. Naively.

“I wanna,” he mumbled, trying to squeeze you tighter. “Mine. My pretty girl. My babygirl. Forever.”

“Forever is a long time,” you noted, smile once again lacing your voice, along with an emotion, oh so soft one, he didn’t have the capacity to identify anymore. “But that’s what it’ll be if that’s what you want.”

Finally satisfied and with determination in the back of his mind, Steve let your love bridge him over to the dreamland, distantly aware of your fingers still playing with his hair.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

+1

Steve’s mother used to say his that flu lasted a week under a doctor’s care; and seven days without it. Of course, when he was younger with many health issues, it was more complicated than that, but he got the message.

Under your care, he felt considerably better after five days, only a mild case of a runny nose remaining. On a Thursday morning, he even found himself awake before you did, before your alarm went off.

Contemplating whether he should stay in bed with you or get shit done, he lazily scooped away a bit and propped himself on his elbow to feast his eyes on his pretty nurse.

Your hair was a messy halo around your head, your brows were lightly crooked as if you were having an unpleasant dream, your lips parted just a fraction, the softest snort escaping you.

Steve felt himself grin, a love-sick lift of the corners of his lips.

You were so freaking cute.

And seeing you, relaxed, but clearly catching up with sleep to beat your exhaustion to which he abundantly contributed, he knew he couldn’t stay in bed; in fact, he had to make you breakfast to bed, for all the troubles he put you through and for the attentive care you lavished him with.

Sure, when he was getting overly needy and whiny or cranky, you weren’t shy to call him out on his shit – which only made him love you more – but otherwise you were admirably patient.

As if he hadn’t already known that you were a keeper before that; this only solidified his conviction. If everything about you didn’t scream put a ring on it, then he wasn’t Steven Grant Rogers.

Hell, he had a half-mind to propose you just at that moment, all domestic atmosphere and sweet gesture like breakfast in bed, but he wasn’t certain it wouldn’t look like the past few days were what pushed him over the edge. That would only be a half-truth--- quarter-truth?

Shaking his head at his own dumb thoughts, he gathered the pancakes, yogurt, various pieces of fruit and obviously, a coffee, laying it on a tray he had nearly forgotten he owned and tiptoed to the bedroom, honestly surprised that you hadn’t woken up yet with him fumbling around.

He stopped dead in his tracks when you sighed and stirred, rolling over and stretching out a hand as if in a search for him, only to find the space empty. Something between a hum and a damn meowl fell from your lips and Steve had to remind himself what it was he wanted to do besides trying his best to find out how exactly he could make you repeat that sound.

So precious. Absolutely adorable. Beautiful. Tempting.

You clutched the empty sheets, but didn’t wake and Steve crossed the distance to the bed, carefully setting the tray on the nightstand as he went to sit on the bed next to your waist, a dopy smile on his face.

Laying a hand on your thigh, he squeezed a little, attempting to wake you gently; he knew you got jumpy when something tickled your face, so this was the safer option.

You stirred once again, but didn’t wake, your eyes only fluttering open when he called your name a few times, alternating with your favourite term of endearment.

You squinted at him, appearing confused and groaning. Steve grinned.

“Morning, sunshine,” he hummed, finally allowing himself to run the pads of his fingers from your forehead to your cheek and jaw, leaning into drop a kiss to your lips.

He froze, his brain on alert as he registered how hot your face felt.

The faint snoring. Squinting against light. Not waking up sooner than him. Your face pretty much burning to touch.

Oh no.

“Babygirl… are you feeling sick?” Steve whispered hesitantly, met with a bleary gaze and a pout.

“Wasn’t feeling great even yesterday evening…” you said, voice hoarse – whether from sleep or the flu Steve had managed to infect you with, he couldn’t tell.

But he certainly felt guilty, even if it was inevitable, really; with all you sweet care and constant proximity, it was only a matter of time. Not that it made him feel any better.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry-“

“Not your fault-“

“Kinda is-“

“Steve dammit!” you hissed, your eyes flying open fully and Steve knew what was coming; still, he grimaced as you coughed. “Shit. I hate flu.”

“Tell me about it. You think you can eat something?” he fussed, snapping into his nurse mode right away, ready for your roles to reverse.

You hummed and tried to sit, your gaze falling on the nightstand for the first time. Your expression, having been twisted in a grimace, softened instantly. As you turned to him, he suddenly felt sheepish. Was he acting like a love-sick fool?

“You made me breakfast to bed?” you cooed, snuggling into the covers before gesturing for him to help you sit up. “You’re the best.”

“I’ll be better if I make you some tea to go with it… and bring cough sirup… and stuff, yeah?”

You smiled like a loon – well, you tried, the result kinda faint, a testimony to your exhaustion – and Steve quickly rose to his feet.

“You’re the best.”

“Nope, that’s you. Eat your breakfast, babygirl.”

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Steve could tell you still didn’t feel exactly alright and the idea of eating wasn’t thrilling to you, but the pleaser you were, you tried your best for him to see that you appreciated his effort to make breakfast. When he brought you the tea, the medicine and water to down it, you were hallway through the pancakes, even though you seemed to force yourself into every bite.

“You don’t have to make yourself sicker just because you feel like you have to eat this, you know,” he hummed nonchalantly, causing you to grimace and take another two bites before sighing and pushing the tray away.

“It’s really yummy though… I think,” you stated, a wry smile playing in one corner of your lips. “Thank you.”

And you sounded so honestly grateful, clearly attempting for the smile to look real even with your eyes blazed and your features undeniably displaying tiredness, that Steve had to chuckle as he handed you the pills.

“Glad you liked it, sweetheart.”

You went to drop a careful kiss to his cheek when a coughing fit took you by surprise, starling him and resulting in you clutching both your chest and head, wide hurt eyes looking up at him as he smiled, tight-lipped and compassionate; he knew exactly how you felt.

And you were still kinda adorable, pouting a bit, looking at Steve as if he could save you from the evil flu monster.

“I hate flu… but I really like you. Thank you for taking care of me,” you said sincerely, emphasizing your point with an obviously unplanned sneeze.

Steve lips twitched, but so did his heart. His hands went to caress your hair, earning a pleased hum.

“Just returning the favour.”

“Uh-huh. Don’t think I was that nice.”

“You were,” he assured you, feeling need to add a little piece of important information, just to show how much he meant it. “Just made me fall in love with you all over again.”

“Sweet-talker. I bet that’s all gone now, seeing me about to go through a box of tissues a day,” you chuckled weakly, nearly sinking into the cushions.

Steve wasn’t sure what was it he was suddenly overcome with; how or in which exact moment it sneaked into his conscience, a crazy insane thought and the untameable feeling in his gut that nudged him to do it.

To do it right now. To tell you, truly and from the depth of his heart, how much you meant to him. How much he was sure you always would.

“No, it’s not. I want to take care of you,” he whispered, hesitantly taking a hold of your slightly clammy hands and gently squeezing. You reciprocated the action, even if weakly.

“I want to take care of you and I want you to take care of me. I want to have you by my side every day, in our home, in our bed,” he continued, for once not talking only about different ways of making you moan his name when mentioning a bed. “I want to kiss you stupid whenever I get the chance, I want to laugh with you when you’re happy and hold you when you feel like crap. I want us to fight the whole world if they tell us that our love is wrong, because I know there’s nothing more right than me loving you and you loving me.”

The words spilled from his lips without much thinking, just one following other, somehow making sense, he hoped.

The strange buzz of nerves in his ears was so loud that he barely registered you breathed out his name.

“Steve-“

His eyes never left your face, watching it crumble under the weight of his declaration, already glassy eyes turning wetter, breathing ragged almost as much as his was from the rapid fire of words. Your lips parted in beautiful awe, that beautiful awe he had seen before, whenever you seemed to be shocked by how deep his need for you ran.

There was no questioning what should come next. Only half-aware of doing so, Steve had already prepared the ground.

“Stay right here,” he blurted out, giving your hands another quick squeeze before straightening rapidly and nearly tripping over his feet as he rushed towards his desk, opening the third drawer. Your voice, laced with both confusion and overwhelming emotion, followed him.

“I- I’m not going anywhere. What’s-“

“Sh-shh,” Steve hissed distractedly and took a deep breath as his fingers finally met with the box, gripping it tightly and his palm covering it as he stalked back to the bed, heart hammering in his ribcage.

This was the right moment, right? It seemed ridiculous, but god, so so right.

“You’re lucid, right?” he asked just to make sure, wavering only for a bit; you might be sick, even have a headache maybe, but you certainly appeared lucid enough a moment ago. But maybe that would be the reason you’d say no?

Shit, he felt like teenager about to ask his first crush to sit with him at lunch.

“I—I think? I’m just hella confused…“ you stuttered, causing his already wild heart to skip a beat upon hearing the nerves in your voice.

Your eyes, wide with confusion and yet slightly narrow because light hurt, watched Steve carefully as he dropped to his knees by your bedside and he didn’t think he ever saw you looking more endearing.

Steve had never been more certain of the fact that he wanted you to be his wife; and yet, and maybe precisely because of that, a lump formed in his throat. He took a deep calming breath, bracing himself.

“I love you. I love your mind, your body, your soul and everything that’s you and I—I think you’re the most wonderful woman I have ever met and had the luck to fall for. So I…”

With another heartskip, loud pounding in his head and maybe a tiny bit of a shake to his hands, he rose to only one knee, not missing your expression turning into a picture perfect of shock when he held out the box he had been thinking about for too long.

“Oh my god, Steve-“

“Please let me do this,” he whispered, barely audible, mostly because while you seemed absolutely stunned, you didn’t look angry or horrified, so he sensed a chance.

“I’m running a fever, my nose is running too and I’m--- ew all over-“ you protested weakly, a tear actually running down your cheek, but then you chuckled, a hand flying up to cover your mouth and Steve felt his confidence rise.

“You’re not, and even if you were I wouldn’t care. You’re my everything and wish nothing more than to make you mine officially.” Unable to wait any longer under you attentive and entirely adoring gaze, he opened the box and said your full name, nearly choking on it under the overwhelming joy of the moment – because he already knew. He knew what you were gonna say; you had it written all over you face. “Will you marry me?”

Steve knew. He was so sure that he knew--- and yet. Yet. As the silence prolonged, lasting seconds, minutes even – hours, it must have been – Steve felt the nervous coil in his gut twist painfully.

He watched you with torturous anticipation as you were; semi-sat up on a bed, hurting, probably beginning to sweat through your pyjama and drinking chamomile tea to get rid of the bug you had caught from him, and here he was, proposing.

In sickness and health indeed; and in some absurd way, this all made perfect sense to him… well, it had, a minute ago.

You looked like a million thoughts were racing through your head, and Steve felt his heart sink to his stomach. What if you truly were thinking he was crazy-

“Yes,” you said at last and Steve released the breath he was holding, endlessly relieved, the heaviness weighting a ton finally falling from his shoulders. Oh Chirst, thank fuck—he really had been getting worried- “Yes, I-“

Relief blended into delight as he heard you speak the beautiful word again.

Yes. Yes, you wanted to be his wife.

Yes, you wanted to marry him!!

An incredulous chuckle spilled from his lips and he tossed the box on the bed, swiftly moving up and grabbing your face to kiss you stupid as he wanted and had said that he always would.

You made a startled noise, but you giggled too, grasping onto his shoulders and his nape and kissing back with all you got—and then you were pulling away, fighting for breath, because flu, duh, he needed to be careful with you, but-

You agreed to marry him!

Keeping you as close as possible while allowing you to breathe, his eyes happily roamed your face, so pretty and adorable and the knowledge of him being able waking up next to that face for the rest of his life sent his heart into frenzy, sparkles of pure joy filling his chest.

“I love you! Thank you, babygirl,” he exclaimed, kissing you once more, a short but intense encounter of lips that caused you to giggle again—but he didn’t give a shit if he was being ridiculous. Your eyes, even if tired, seemed to glow now, happy twinkles dancing in your irises, telling him you were just as excited and delighted as he was. “Thank you-“

“You’re so crazy-“ you mumbled, dropping a kiss to his shoulder as you still shook with laughter and Steve simply climbed on the bed fully, wrapping you in his arms tightly.

He could sing at how you fit into his arms.

“I am. For you.”

“I can’t believe you proposed to me while I’m lying sick on a bed,” you mumbled over his shoulder, sounding as if you were complaining a little.

“In sickness and health?” he offered nervously, holding you tighter just in case you were going to back out now. Which was not an option.

He had to physically put the ring on your finger. Right now. Then you wouldn’t be able to change your mind.

In the back of his brain, an annoying voice told him that this was not how it worked, that there was no guarantee. But Steve shushed that voice and withdrew only enough to reach for the box and with a grin so wide he could feel his cheeks hurt from the strain, he took a hold of your left hand, slipping the ring on.

He didn’t miss the way your breath caught and he didn’t think the flu was to blame for that; the ring looked lovely on your hand. And Steve was a smidge proud of how he managed to make it fit perfectly.

“Steve… the ring-”

“You don’t like it?” he worried in an instant as he detected a new emotion in your voice.

You went to lightly slap his shoulder, rolling your eyes – an action you apparently regretted by the silent groan that followed; just another reminded of your sickness.

“Shush, you dummy. It’s--- breath-taking, but-“ you bit down on your lower lip, clearly hesitant to speak your mind and Steve didn’t find it at all comforting that you said you did like then ring. Not with the but. You sounded almost guilty, which was… strange. “But must have been so expensive and we still haven’t really-“

Oh. Oh.

Steve felt his lips spread back into a smile.

His sweet, sweet girl, responsible and perfect. He hated the reminder of your father’s behaviour, of the fact that you were ashamed on his behalf and felt guilty.

Steve didn’t want that.

“If I tell you it wasn’t, will you be mad?” he offered, watching carefully for your reaction, and your thoughtful expression turned into a confused one.

“Wasn’t?“

“I just had it cleaned and re-sized.”

You blinked, eyelids heavy, and tilted your head in bewilderment—melting into a brief panic and Steve realized what must have crossed your mind.

His stomach clenched in horror at you even considering it. You might have thought it was meant for another woman from his life.

Which it was, but not the way you thought!

“It was my ma’s!” he blurted out in panic, causing you to flinch a bit in fright of his suddenly louder voice. Steve shook his head – he was so messing this whole proposal thing up – clearing his throat, he observed your face, now full of emotion he couldn’t read. “…is that okay?”

There were tears prickling in your eyes, no words leaving your mouth as he had managed to render you speechless and he could punch himself for making you feel whatever you were feeling.

He had to fix this, fast.

“We can absolutely pick up something else if you don’t like the idea!” he was quick to offer, his heart speeding up when you still didn’t say a word. But you didn’t seem… that mad. What was happening in your head though, that was a mystery to him. “It’s just… she always told me that it was the second most precious thing she had left after dad, right after me, and that she wants me to give it to-- please don’t cry.”

Yes, he made the tears spill. There were a few rolling down your cheeks and Steve… he was starting to recognize the emotions playing in your expression, but he couldn’t entirely put his finger on it.

Honestly, he couldn’t tell whether you were so touched by the whole inherited ring gesture or if you were hating him with your very being for ruining some picture-perfect proposal you had been dreaming about since you were five; angry and disappointed that he didn’t even have the decency to buy you your own ring.

Probably a bit of both.

“Steve, you romantic idiot, come here,” you choked out, by a miracle not coughing for once and before he could even react and let the relief sink in, you grabbed him by his shoulders and pulled hard.

You had a surprisingly a lot of strength for someone coming down with a flu – actually, being down with a flu.

He landed on you, barely catching himself before he could crush you, a surprised laugh spilling from his lips, delight once again lighting up his world.

“I love you, Steve,” you whispered, pecking his lips, fingers sinking to his hair and that moment, Steve was in heaven. “So much.”

He grinned wide, wrapping his arms around you and holding you to his chest as tight as he could, feeling both his own heartbeat and yours, tumbling happily and together.

“And I love you… future Mrs. Rogers.”

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Tied to you (next in timeline)

S.R.masterlist

Attached masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Not gonna lie. Thought of posting this in four parts of maybe at least two (3 and +1), but then I thought, screw it, let’s post 7,7k words at once. I hope you made it through all of them.

What’s coming next? I have no idea... maybe it’s who’s ‘coming’ next 👀

Thank you for reading!

[saiki-in-jsl]

[heads in hands]

Kubokai Cinderella AU very possible.

[hands in heads]

Saiki as fairy god father.

[holds back tears]

I’m gonna talk about this right now. Ready? Go.

Cinderella Kubokai AU

Look, everyone, when I said Cinderella Kubokai AU, I think your automatic thinking would be; “Oh! Kaidou Shun would be Cinderella right?”

Wrong. In fact, we’re going to toss the idea of Cinderella out the window right now but keep the foundations of it: Local villager marries royalty with the help of magic.

Presenting: Prince Kaidou Shun.

Prince Kaidou has problem interacting with girls, he thinks they’re cute and all, he thinks they’re flattering, but whenever he encounters one all he can think is; “Just like my sister!”

Like seriously, even when the woman is nothing like his sister, he’d still think that. It’s like his automatic assumption when he doesn’t feel romantic feelings towards them.

Anyway his strict but concerned mother decides, “Yeah, Plan D, let’s hold a Royal ball.” You wouldn’t want to know what the previous plans were (nothing harmful, just embarrassing).

Now here’s the twist; Saiki Kusuo, the fairy god father, isn’t actually with Kuboyasu. In fact, there is no evil family members involved (if you don’t count the fact that, yes, Kuboyasu comes from a line of bandits).

Saiki Kusuo actually lives in the castle with Kaidou because his older brother is the royal advisor, Kaidou’s personal tutor, and the occasional inventor.

Instead of hair clips, Kusuo wears special earrings that keep his powers in check. Most of his abilities are still identical to his psychic abilities, but they are labeled as magic.

He, along with Nendou Riki (a knight that came from a family of knights), act as Kaidou’s friends but also bodyguards.

Anyway, Kaidou’s distressed because he doesn’t exactly want to have a ball. Sure, he likes them generally, he gets to wear nice clothes, dance, act all princely (that part isn’t much fun, but ehh) but this ball is different.

Kusuo doesn’t care for things like these, but he does grow sympathetic after two hours of Kaidou complaining, so he forms a plan;

During the ball, Kusuo would sneak Kaidou out the castle and pretend to be the prince. Since Kusuo’s skilled at turning down women, he thinks it’ll be an easy (though annoying) night for him.

Kaidou agrees, but the problem is; even though Kusuo is able to replicate Kaidou’s identity, his earrings would still remain. They’re specially made for him, so it practically works as a collar on a dog.

They manage to solve that problem by making a pair of earrings that sorta looks like Kusuo’s, if not a little weirder in color and shape, and Kaidou will wear it throughout the day on the night of the ball. Like that, his family would easily be fooled.

Ball arrives and the plan goes accordingly (when asked, Kaidou says he liked Kusuo’s earrings so much that he got a pair to match), so Kusuo sneaks Kaidou out the castle.

“I’ll have outside help look after you, so don’t worry. Unless your life is in immediate danger, they won’t appear so you can relax.” Kusuo has already morphed himself to appear like Kaidou and the boy thinks that it’s insanely creepy.

Here the story splits into 2; Kusuo’s adventure and Kaidou’s adventure. I’ll talk about Kaidou’s then Kusuo’s in a different post (maybe).

Kaidou enjoys a nightly walk in the village in his almost too big hooded coat, taking in the homely scenery. Everything feels...softer, their wooden walls seem much more welcoming than the stoned ones in the castle.

Of course, the number one rule in the village is to not go out at night for too long, because you never know when-

“Hey,” Kuboyasu, the bandit, has made an entrance! What will he do? A. Fall in love. B. Fall in love. C. Fall in love. D. Attempt to rob Kaidou.

You guessed it! D.

“Give me everything you have, including those earrings.” Kuboyasu says, and it’s a bit too dark to make out the face he’s making, but Kaidou thinks the darkness literally enhances the threatening look. Though, the man doesn’t even have a weapon.

Unless he’s going to rip Kaidou apart with his bare hands.

Then Kaidou starts bawling, but not the loud screaming kind, it was the soft sniffling one. The kind that basically meant; “Why me?”

Kuboyasu does a double take because he doesn’t know what to do when his victim starts sniffling soft sobs. He was never taught what to do.

“Oh- Uh- Okay. Sorry. Don’t...cry...” Kuboyasu may be a thief, but he ain’t an asshole. He awkwardly pats Kaidou on the shoulder. “I was just joking! It’s not safe to be out in the dark like this so I was just trying to...” He feels bad.

Okay, new plan, he thinks, I’ll just take the pretty boy with me, let him stay in my home then take his things and take off.

Because actually, Kuboyasu doesn’t exactly live in this village. Him and his gang are littered around, staying in places, because they heard about the ball and thought they could raid a few carriages when they arrive. Some of them did manage to achieve their goal and were about to stay a bit longer just to relax before heading off again.

“I thought jokes were supposed to be funny,” Kaidou frowned, already calming down, and wow does this boy have a tongue. Kuboyasu’s only a little bit less guilty now.

“Do you want to stay at my place till the sun comes up? It’s the least I could do to apologize.”

Kaidou thinks about it. Wow! Sleeping in a commoner’s home! Exciting!

He agrees.

Now guess what happens.

Kuboyasu: A. Falls in love. B. Falls in love. C. Falls in love. D. Steals Kaidou’s things and take off.

You guessed it! It’s A, B, C!

Kuboyasu has never met a guy so...cute? Light? Kaidou was like a flower, dancing in the wind.

From the way his eyes lit up to see a regular looking home to the way he oo’ed and ah’ed and everything Kuboyasu stole had.

It was endearing.

So endearing, Kuboyasu couldn’t help but let Kaidou be for the rest of the night.

Anyway, Kuboyasu isn’t exactly stupid, but he thought he might’ve picked up a sort of...forest spirit?

It wasn’t common knowledge that magic existed, but Kuboyasu has been to places, seen many things, so he thinks Kaidou could be a deity. Kaidou even looks like one. Blue hair, pale skin, red eyes.

It doesn’t register that Kaidou was a prince, because somehow that seemed more unlikely. Somehow.

Maybe he’s a little stupid.

Kuboyasu asks Kaidou if he really is a spirit and Kaidou’s like, “Yeah, yeah, duh!”

So Kuboyasu thinks he’s blessed and decides he’ll stay in the village to just...take care of Kaidou because he thinks that’s his responsibility now.

And remember Kusuo saying he had helpers to keep Kaidou safe? Well said helpers only reinforced the idea that Kaidou could be a spirit because for every trouble he gets into, he somehow always gets out of it by “himself”.

Also, if you’re wondering why Kaidou couldn’t go home yet, I’ll answer that in Kusuo’s side of the story. (I’ll also wrap up the story then, maybe.)

Which I’ll do, later, after I sleep. G’night.

(Basically the whole idea is that; Kuboyasu is trying to be a better person so Kaidou will bless him more, while Kaidou takes advantage of this misunderstanding to learn about the outside world first hand. Slowburn. Maybe.)

[kenmaash]

types of people- planets

tag yourself as planets 🪐

-mercury

paris, london, likes tea and stuff. best clothes, obsessed with aesthetics. genuinely nice person but don’t freaking cross them. has a literal library in their house and has read every book in it. wants to be in beauty and the beast

-venus

thrift stores. cool patterns, pretty sunglasses, the smell of a beach, a bit of a romantic. pretty, likes big earrings. likes to read and probably goes to book club

-earth

soft, reserved but has strong opinions. gives the best advice, seems cold but once they open up they can be wild sometimes. always analyzing. cooks the best food, lowkey protective

-mars

aggressively excited for everything, shakes people while they laugh. giggles that could crack the sky. good at sports but wants to do art. plants. open about EVERYTHING. loves fairy lights and wants a polaroid camera

-jupiter

your actual mother. little bit of a bitch but in the best way. will slap you if you talk bad about yourself. they’ve probably killed someone but don’t bring it up. always takes good care of you, gives the best hugs, and can do the best hairstyles. also very fashionavel

-saturn

the forest floor during the dry season, fashionable boots, vintage jewelry, likes to read. thick hair that they make look really good somehow.

-uranus

likes swimming. lives for the beach at night. camera roll full of sunset pics and pictures of their siblings and pets. dark eyes, mystical smiles

-neptune

mythology obsessed, likes the color silver. white fairy lights and pretty shirts. draws hands and eyes like a god. isn’t active much on social media but has a billion followers anyway

-pluto

watches way too much tv. tries to be productive but isn’t. close friends and pie. so much pie. giving, open, kind. a little shy but won’t hesitate to hit an asshole

[kintatsujo]

LoZ AU- The Courage of Running Away Part TWENTY-EIGHT

Previous Post!!

This post is more like the second half of the previous post so there’s only a bit of art with mostly prose

#AU August

#LoZ AU: The Courage of Running Away

Link thinks about Safee, patting his back and telling him it was brave to leave. He thinks about the mogma grandmother who told him to go to Hyrule Castle and speak for himself. He thinks about Queen Zelda, never asking what he was afraid she'd ask of him, and about Princess Zelda, currently unconscious in the sacristy, and how she gave him a hug. He thinks about Tonbo putting flowers in his hair. He thinks about his father's apology.

Most of all he thinks about Marla, plying him with food because he was subsisting too much on health potions alone, and the conversation they had in the Shrine of the Furious God, at the feet of the statue built in the same image as the Nightmare he's now fighting.

"I'll bet he was afraid too," Marla had said. And it seems hard to believe that, seeing the face of the Fierce Deity, but Link knows this is a copy built from his image of the Furious God.

Legend had it he came in the form of a child with the soul of an adult, and that he'd used the gratitude of Termina to take his true form.

But why come as a child at all? Surely that made things harder, surely-

When his blade finally strikes true, Fierce Deity acts as though he made a fencing point despite the fact that there's black blood staining his chest.

He puts his right hand to the wound, left hand still on his sword, and he smiles that gentle, gentle, unnerving smile.

"Well done, little one," he says. "Can you manage it twice?"

[Image Description: Fierce Deity Link is smiling, resting one hand on his chest and the other on his sword.  Black blood is trickling from the center of his armor down his chest.  End ID.]

Link realizes that leaving his father was actually harder than this. That leaving the Sky Commune was actually harder than everything he's done since.

Because sometimes he hated Astramorus, sometimes he hated him more than it felt like he could contain, but he loves him so much more that it aches.

And if he gets through this, they can work on making things better.

He takes a deep breath.

"Yeah," he says. "I can manage it twice."

Astramorus, meanwhile, is thinking about all the ways he's failed Link, the ways HE thought he was failing Link versus the ways maybe he was ACTUALLY failing him.

He's thinking about how Link used to be afraid of the dark and how he showed him to use the same trick he's using now, the fairy bobbing merrily at his side and sharing her light with him.

He's thinking about how when Link found his mother's sword at six he hadn't taken it away when he probably should have swapped it for something the boy could actually lift.

He's thinking about Serenumbra bringing him books about previous heroes and previous trials they'd faced, calling Link a soft child and worrying over his abilities, and how Astramorus himself would later use those words like a weapon.

And about how Serenumbra probably knew exactly what he was doing, stoking fear for his son in his heart, encouraging every worst impulse, winding him up and letting him go, just like he confessed he'd been doing for years up in the Sanctuary.

And he thinks about Link telling him that fixing things wasn't going to take some grand sacrifice. About how Link wants him to keep living, to keep trying.

Astramorus sees a blue glow in the dark, outlining Serenumbra's back.

He lifts the book of magic still in his hands. He's ready to start trying.

[image description: A grayscale animatic.  Astramorus WHACKS the asshole. End ID.]