#If he were young as he is supposed to be I'd buy it. He's in his early to mid twenties. In his twenties to be broad. He's an idiot. Okay

[longagoitwastuesday]

I think Kline's Cyrano was often too funny in emotionally charged scenes, yes, but I adored how he was particularly vicious, rurthless and violent at times when crossed. The mix of being fun yet terrible worked so well. The way Cyrano says, smiling, the "Even if you possessed the words and wit / I'd never let you get away with it" line encompassed that perfectly.

[kleftiko]

❦ A PIRATES REWARD

“you expected to fuck some guy in the bathroom at the halloween party, not get absolutely railed by someone you don’t even know”

cw: age gap, mask kink(?), choking, cream pie, unprotected sex, semi-public sex

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

When you're young and you finally get the taste of freedom that comes with showing your ID (the real one) to the bouncer, and instead of a stare down, you get a pleasant "enjoy your night", you tend to go overboard.

Dressed too skimpy for the weather, with the promise that alcohol will help you warm up, you and your girlfriends set your goals for the night. Get someone to buy you drinks, make it to the DJ booth, or hook up in the bathroom with someone you'll never see again.

A jaegerbomb or two, vodka soda, and whatever drink the guy next to you swore was worth it—you think it's a pornstar—and you were blinking with a drowsy smile on your painted lips as you looked around for someone of interest. Halloween was the perfect excuse to let loose and indulge in some wild, anonymous fun. As the night progressed, the music got louder and the crowd became more vibrant, making it the perfect hunting ground. With each drink, you felt a heat in your cheeks and between your legs that you wanted to indulge in.

"And what are you supposed to be?" You looked up at the man beside you.

From across the room, you noticed him in a black compression shirt, one that defined his obviously muscular arms and toned chest. He was tall, even from afar, dark hair that you could see pulled back into a bun, and a mask from a movie your tipsy mind barely recognized covering his face. He was mildly intriguing, and you admired him for a bit, but was only when he lifted it slightly to drink, showing off his sharp jawline and rough stubble, that you beelined for him.

You couldn't see his eyes looking down at you, but his deep, rumbling voice made you shiver. "A guy in a mask."

"Wow," you deadpanned with obvious sarcasm. "so creative."

He turned his head to you and leaned down a bit, and he asked, "Pirate?"

"Aye." You giggled with a curtsy, then nodded your chin at his drink. "What's that?"

"Rye and ginger," he held it out to you. "Want?"

You purposely brushed over the rings on his fingers as you took the drink. "You think I'd like it?"

"It’s a little hard, but sweet."

So you took a sip, eyes locked on his mask as you licked your lips to clean them off.

"I like the harder stuff," you said, and handed it back to him.

He lifted his mask to take a sip, unbothered by the lipstick smudge you left on the rim, then smiled slightly.

You decided that this was the guy. There's something about his nonchalant demeanour and the way he effortlessly hooked you in that had you wanting him in a less than innocent way. The fact that you didn't even know what he looked like only added to the excitement of wanting those gorgeous fingers inside you.

"Wanna take this somewhere else?" You cut him off from whatever he was saying, deciding you've done enough flirting.

"Well, aren't you an eager thing?" He chuckled a bit and took another sip of his drink.

You gulped, shamelessly checking him out as you started to feel the pulse of anticipation. When he finished off his rye and ginger you grabbed his wrist and led him through the crowd. Down the hall, there were a couple people loitering, probably trying to escape the loud music to have a more intimate conversation. The bathroom was even more deserted, and you thanked the fact that drunk people never wanted to leave the fun.

You immediately pushed him against the wall, not waiting for the door to close beside you, and your fingers clawed to his mask eagerly before his large hand wrapped around your throat to still you.

"Ah, ah, ah," he reprimanded you. "Didn't anyone teach you manners?"

You grinned, your lips instead going to his neck, where you playfully bit his skin. He let out a low growl, a mixture of pleasure and warning. His grip on your throat tightened slightly, this time not in caution, but as a reward.

"That's it, baby." He praised, and hooked his free thumb under the mask, pulling it off to reveal the most attractive man you've ever seen. Dark, tired eyes that looked at you with nothing but lust. He was obviously older than you, and the realization made you feel even more vigour at the thought of the pleasure he could give you that you never seemed to get from guys your age. His lips curled into a malicious smile, revealing a set of perfectly white teeth. The intensity in his gaze made your heart race, as if you were the only person in the world that mattered to him in that moment.

You audibly whimpered, the heat between your legs intensifying as you grabbed the back of his head and pulled him in for a kiss. Distantly, there was a soft donk as he threw his mask to the ground and grabbed you, switching places to pin you to the wall instead. The rush of adrenaline coursed through your veins, making you want to act out, but the firm grip he had on your throat had you compliant and submissive—only able to do what he wants. You had never been more happy to fall under the spell of some man, and you found yourself eager to accept anything he gave you. As the world around you faded into oblivion, all that remained was the intoxicating connection between your bodies and an insatiable desire.

Your leg hooked over his hip as you grinded into him, and he easily lifted you up, pressing his hard cock to your needy pussy through your clothes.

The noises of pleasure you made simply from making out and dry humping had him almost laughing.

"Such a cute little pirate." He growled and bit your ear. The hand around your neck moved to shove aside the fabric at your crotch and push two fingers inside you. "Already wet for me."

You squealed at the stretch, head hitting the tiled wall behind you as you threw it back.

"F-fuck." You whined and bucked your hips into him, too lost in the simple way he was giving you pleasure to care about how desperate you were being.

His skilled fingers continued to move inside you, hitting all the right spots and driving you wild. Even if it had just begun, no hookup had ever had you crumbling so easily, or had reduced you to a begging mess so skillfully. The intensity of the pleasure was overwhelming, causing your body to tremble uncontrollably as you surrendered completely to his touch, not bothering to hold back your cries.

Your legs started to shake, the pants you spilled out became high-pitched wanton sounds as you were about to cum; tears pricked at the corner of your eyes as your head knocked against the wall from you bucking into him. But before he could send you over into ecstasy, he pulled his fingers out, leaving you high, dry, and angry.

"What the fuc—!" You tried to scream, but he shoved his thick fingers down your throat. You choked instead as he laughed at you.

"Don't be a brat." He said. "Lick them clean, and I'll give you what you want."

You gagged as his fingers pressed against the back of your throat, feeling a mix of humiliation and arousal. Reluctantly, you obeyed his command, tasting your own essence on his fingers as you sniffled. The thought of finally getting what you desired pushed you to comply, hoping that this humiliating act would lead to the release you craved.

As he pulled his fingers out with a pop, you were rewarded with the sight of his hand undoing his pants and releasing his thick cock. The sight of his harsh pink tip dripping with precum made your heart race, fueling your craving for him even more and making you wiggle impatiently as he lined up with your cunt. With a deep breath, you braced yourself for the pleasure that awaited, ready to surrender completely to his dominance.

He didn't go slow. He thrusted into you with a force that took your breath away, causing a mixture of pleasure and pain to surge through your body.

The hand that gripped the fat of your thigh to hold you up tightened almost unbearably as he hissed.

"Fuck, you're so tight, little pirate." He said, and you whimpered a bit.

There was no more time to waste as he pulled out and thrust into you again.

You felt each unbearable inch of his cock bullying its way into your gummy walls and stretching you out passed your limits. No man had ever had you gasping from simply fucking you, but each powerful movement sent waves of ecstasy coursing through your body. As he continued to pound into you relentlessly, you surrendered yourself completely to the overwhelming sensations, losing all sense of control.

Your noises started to get even louder and more shameless, and you couldn't imagine anyone outside the bathroom wouldn't be able to tell what was going on, especially coupled with the slapping sounds of his cock in your dripping pussy over and over.

His hand came up to your neck again, holding you back against the wall and cutting your airflow as he pumped into you. Your moans became choked gargles, and the lack of oxygen had you squeezing impossibly tighter around him, your own hand gripping his wrist to stabilize yourself as your eyes rolled back and your tongue fell out.

"You just go dumb, baby?" You vaguely heard his condescending voice. "Such a good girl."

The intensity of the moment heightened as he continued to fuck you, his words fueling your desire for him to have his way with you. Each thrust and restriction of breath only deepened your submissive state, pushing you further into a state of blissful surrender that you never wanted to give up. As his grip tightened and his pace quickened, you could feel yourself on the edge of cumming like you never had before, ready to be consumed by the ecstasy he pumped you with.

"Such a good girl." He repeated. "Maybe I should cum in your cunt as a reward for being so good."

The sound of his words sent shivers down your spine, intensifying the pleasure coursing through your body. You eagerly nodded, unable to form any coherent words as you yearned for him to fulfill his promise. You wanted everything he could possibly give you, in that moment, you wanted him to become yours. You wanted him to give you this pleasure over and over again. With each powerful thrust, you could feel the knot tightening, knowing that this release would be better than any one you've ever experienced.

As he continued to ravish you, you came without warning. Head spilling all thoughts from your mind besides the inexplicably pleasure you were feeling and this unknown man that has made you feel something you’ve never felt before. Without a doubt, this would be ingrained in your mind forever, but if the thought of that wasn't enough, the feeling of his hot cum spilling into a second later you would be. It overflowed from your cunt, staining your thighs with hot cum as you held him close.

The smell of sex and the wetness dripping down your hot legs brought you back to reality, and you just barely registered him setting you down onto the ground. Your wobbly legs couldn't hold you as you fell against his sturdy chest, still not in the right stated of mind as you panted and almost drooled against him. The man chuckled as he moved the fabric of your costume back to cover your pussy and keep all of his cum inside you. You whined and twitched when he patted your clit.

Then he gently placed you on the ground, and you were too fucked up to speak up and say that you wanted him to stay and at least hold you until your mind returned. The most you could do was weakly tug on his pants and whine, causing him to bend down and place a chest kiss to your forehead. As he walked away, a mix of emotions flooded your mind: a longing for his presence, a sense of vulnerability, and a lingering satisfaction from everything he gave you.

[eclipseiz]

Twin Thrones

pairing- caracalla x fem! oc x geta

(♡ synopsis)- calista amulis was determined to get her brother back, no matter the cost. even if that means she had to cozy up with the emperor's to do it.

part 1 of ?

please note...

✧ this is set PRE gladiator 2 as the story progresses it might dabble in the beginning but that's about it.

✧caracalla will not have syphilis in this story, he'll just be a crazy freak.

✧this story is gonna be dirty and raw (lol) so 18+

_✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩_

Calista Amulis was set on saving her brother, Caius from Rome the moment she had heard he’d been sold to them.

The sun beat down relentlessly as she leapt from the boat, the heat biting into her skin, but it was nothing compared to the fire that fueled her every movement. She darted away, her heart pounding with urgency, desperate to stay ahead of the soldier she had seduced only hours before for the free ride to Rome. She had played her part well, weaving the web of deception so carefully. She stumbled upon a young woman walking with a basket filled with what looked like bread, “Pardon me!” she called out making the woman turn around

“Yes?” the woman raised an eyebrow

Calista looked around and leaned in closer, “Do you know who I can talk to in regards to the Gladiators?”

She seemed to think for a moment before answering, “Macrinus would be your gentleman. He buys them up the moment they touch Roman soil. If I were to guess I'd say he's in his office near the Gladiators cells just down there.” she pointed down a dusty stairway to the right of the Colosseum.

With a quick ‘thank you’ Calista began down the path coming across a bustling corridor with training men she assumed to be the gladiators and guards. “What's your business here girl?” a bald man walked over to her.

“I'm looking for a man named Macrinus, is he here?” she asked folding her hands together

He grunted and began walking, commanding her to follow him with a wave of his hand. She moved with him until they stood in front of an archway, “Sire this girl here has a few words for you.”

Calista stepped into the room and watched as Macrinus gave her a once over, “Thank you Viggo you may return to the floor.” After the guard had retreated, Macrinus leaned back and clasped his hands together, “Well why have you come to see me…?” he requested her name.

She moved to sit at a chair in front of the desk, “Calista. My brother was sold to you after our city was attacked and I would like for you to release him. I'll give you anything you require.” 

Macrinus tilted his head before letting out a laugh, “Silly girl, who knows if your brother is still alive.”

“Caius. His name is Caius.” she urged

The man thought for a moment, “Ah yes ‘Cyclops’. Quite the fighter…managed to lose his eye during his first fight here.”

Her face flashed with worry, “He’s still standing then?”

“For now.” Macrinus answered with a shrug. He got up from his seat over to where he had a glass of wine, “I know what you can do for me.”

Calista straightened her posture and put her confident mask in place, “Anything.”

The older man hummed, “I'm sure you’ve heard of the emperors Geta and Caracalla from wherever you have come from?” 

“The twin tyrants?” 

His lips twitched, “Correct. I want to take them down and I had no way of doing so until now. You are a pretty girl, Calista, just their type…”

She furrowed her brows, “I am not following.”

“The emperors are young fragile men. Just the kind who can be turned agaisnt each other when it comes to a young beautiful woman.” he handed her a cup half full of the alcohol.

She swirled the liquid in the cup, “You want me to seduce them? Both of them? How do you suppose I got close enough to do that?” 

“I can handle that without fretting. Though you will need to wear something of more taste.” he gestured to her raggedy dress which she had been wearing for days.

Calista stood, setting the cup back down, “And after I somehow manage to pin them against one another, what after?”

Marcinus took the girl's face in his hands, “I'll take over from there. You'll find I can be very persuasive.”

She scoffed, “And you'll let my brother go?”

He gives her a pat on the cheeks before backing away, “If all goes to plan then yes. Caius will be freed.”

“And if it doesn't?” she anxiously questioned

“Then you'll most likely die at the hands of the emperors.” he shrugged like it was nothing.

Calista let out a breath of air before slowly nodding, “Fine I'll do it.”

“Wonderful!” Macrinus beamed, his smile wide and full of triumph, as though he'd just secured a victory in a game of great importance. “I can arrange for you to meet them as soon as tomorrow. But first, let me tell you a little about them.” He leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping on the edge of his desk as he considered the task at hand. “Geta is the older twin,” he began, his tone steady and assured. “He’s the one I consider the true leader. Handles most of the imperial duties, keeps things running smoothly. He's a sharp, methodical person who expects loyalty, and demands it. He’s the one you’ll have to watch closely.” Macrinus paused, rocking back slightly, as though trying to find the right words for the next part. "Caracalla, on the other hand..." He shook his head, a flicker of something between amusement and disbelief crossing his face. "Crazy, to put it lightly. He's unpredictable, impulsive and makes decisions on a whim, often with disastrous results. He'll be the easy one to handle, no doubt. But it’s Geta you need to worry about." He sat forward, his gaze sharpening. "Geta is the real challenge. If you can get to him, take him down, the rest will fall into place.”

She regarded Macrinus for a moment, her expression calm but calculating. "I see," she said slowly, her voice smooth and confident.

Macrinus tipped his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I'll have my servant prepare your bath, clothes, everything. If all goes well with the twins tomorrow, they'll likely request a room for you at their palace."

She blinked, a furrow of confusion crossing her brow. "Wait, hold on," she said, her voice calm but edged with uncertainty. "Just like that? They’ll let me in? You make it sound almost too easy."

“It’s not as difficult as you’re making it sound,” he said, his tone calm and reassuring. “The twins are accustomed to intrigue and manipulation, but they both believe in appearances. A beautiful, well-dressed woman appearing as if by chance? They’ll think nothing of it. The way you present yourself will make all the difference.” He paused, watching her carefully. “Don’t overthink it. If you act confident, poised, and play to their egos, they’ll let you in without a second thought.

She chuckled sarcastically, the tension in her expression easing for a moment. "Let's hope I'm as good of an actor as I've been told then." Her voice was dry, but there was a flicker of determination beneath it.

“Cordelia!” Macrinus called for his servant. “I'll have her get you cleaned up. Get a good night's rest and get ready for tomorrow.”

“If sleep can even call upon me.” With that, she exited, the weight of what was to come settling on her shoulders. Tomorrow would tell whether the pieces would fall into place or whether she'd be walking into a trap.

_✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩_

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[deliciousangelfestival]

Another Ending - 3 | Bucky Barnes

Character: ex!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: It was supposed to be a short week watching over your niece, who loves romance books. She thought you were just a normal aunt, but it turns out you have secrets.

Tags: Spies, action, threat, offense, fight scene, violence, romance, comedy.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 ,-

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

The three of you are seated inside the train, the gentle hum of the tracks filling the cabin. You’re holding ‘The Red Swan,’ the novel that both Lori and Bucky had mentioned earlier. As you flip through the pages, your brow furrows.

“Urgh.” You grunt irritably as you skim through yet another overly descriptive scene. The book wasn’t exactly what you expected.

You place your hand over your eyes, exasperated. “70% smut and the plot is only 30%,” you mutter, turning to Lori, who’s glaring at you with puffed cheeks and crossed arms, clearly offended by your critique of her favorite book.

Lori snatches the book from your hand, cradling it protectively. “I feel like you’re hurting my baby,” she says, her voice a mix of frustration and disbelief. “And you’re not even reading it properly!”

You let out a sigh, unable to summon the courage to continue reading. “Amusing. My sister actually lets you read this?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Lori flinches, her bravado slipping for a moment. She peeks at you with a guilty expression. “No,” she admits in a timid voice. She had to sneak it under her covers at bedtime. Suddenly, her eyes widen with realization. “Wait, does that mean the… intimate scenes are based on a true story?”

“No!” you exclaim, your voice firm. But before you can elaborate, Bucky chimes in, “A little part of it.”

You shoot him a sharp glare as Lori gasps in shock. “What about the character backgrounds? Are both of you special agents with super uniforms that make you strong? Do you have rooms full of weapons and fast cars with missiles? Oh, oh… what about the part where both of you fall from a high building?”

You chuckle at her enthusiasm. “You’re going to be disappointed, Lori.”

“Why?” she asks, her face falling slightly.

“Because the story exaggerates the characters a bit. The agency doesn’t have that kind of money. No super uniforms, and definitely no fast cars with missiles.” You notice her disappointed expression and can’t resist teasing her.

“But, young lady, the part about the female character being good at fighting—that’s true,” Bucky interjects.

Lori’s face lights up again. “What about you, Mr. B? Are you really that strong and athletic?”

“He’s not that strong,” you say with a playful smirk.

Bucky, amused by the exchange, crosses his arms and leans back. “At the beginning, yes. But what happened next… well, that’s the plot twist,” he says with a knowing grin, leaving Lori wide-eyed and eager to know more.

Here’s a revised version with improved grammar, added descriptions, and enhanced tension between the characters:

“Uhhh… What’s the plot twist?” Lori asked, her curiosity piqued as she looked between you and Bucky.

Bucky raised his eyebrows and smirked at you, the corners of his lips curling up in that infuriatingly confident way he had.

You rolled your eyes, unable to hide the exasperation in your voice. “I can’t believe I was ever worried about you. You fooled me.”

“Dear, that’s what we do. We lie,” Bucky replied smoothly, his tone carrying a hint of something darker, something that sent a shiver down your spine.

The tension between the two of you was palpable, hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break. Lori, oblivious to the undercurrents, watched with growing excitement, her eyes darting between you and Bucky as if she were witnessing a live scene from one of her romance novels. She clutched her book tighter, her face flushed with anticipation, clearly enjoying this drama unfolding before her.

Flashback Begins

Back at the security agency, the world was divided into field agents and analysts. You were one of the best field agents, always in the thick of the action, while Bucky was an exceptional analyst, the brain behind countless successful missions. Everyone in the agency worked under alias names, identities hidden even from each other.

Your alias was ‘Nightingale,’ and you quickly earned a reputation for being ruthless and efficient. Bucky, known as ‘Cipher,’ was the analytical genius. Whenever an agent was assigned to a mission with Bucky as the analyst, they knew success was almost guaranteed. Together, the two of you were unstoppable—a perfect combination of brains and brawn.

Despite his sharp mind and keen intellect, Bucky’s unassuming appearance as a nerdy analyst made you worry about him. He wore baggy shirts and glasses, and you often found yourself wondering if a strong gust of wind might just blow him over. You made it your unspoken duty to protect him, thinking he needed it.

But then, everything changed. The day you were gravely injured in the field, on what you thought would be your last mission, Bucky showed up. Not as the meek analyst you’d imagined, but as something else entirely.

He ripped off his shirt to reveal muscles that had been hidden beneath those baggy clothes, and with surprising strength, he pulled you out of harm’s way. He wasn’t just your analyst; he was a force to be reckoned with.

From that day forward, your attitude toward him shifted. The camaraderie between you deepened, but so did something else—something you tried desperately to ignore. In the world of espionage, there was no room for romance. It was dangerous, reckless. And what made it worse, far worse, was that you were a double agent.

But the thrill of the chase, the secrecy, the risk of being discovered—it all made your hidden relationship even more exhilarating. Every stolen glance, every touch in the dark, was fraught with danger. You were torn, constantly on edge, wondering if you should confess your secret to Bucky or bury it forever.

Then came the day when your worst fears were realized. The agency uncovered a mole within its ranks, and it all came crashing down during a mission codenamed ‘The Red Swan.’ The mission failed spectacularly, and in the aftermath, the truth emerged.

It wasn’t you. It was Bucky. He wasn’t just a double agent; he was a triple agent.

Flashback Ends

“That story is much better because it’s more realistic,” Lori declared with a satisfied grin. Then she turned to Bucky, her curiosity piqued. “What about the mission? Was that part real?”

Bucky gave her a half-smile, his voice low and serious. “Sorry, little girl, I can’t tell you about that. Or, well… you know.”

“Did you just threaten my niece?” You shot him a sharp look, protective instincts flaring.

“Just gave her a warning,” he replied, watching as Lori tensed up. A moment later, his expression softened slightly. “But the hotel part is true.”

Lori’s mood flipped instantly, her excitement bubbling up again. She squealed with glee, only to suddenly make a face and cover her eyes. “Ewww… My brain needs to stop projecting that image!”

‘Serves you right,’ you thought, amused by her reaction. You watched as she tried to shake off whatever wild imagination had conjured up.

Just then, an announcement echoed through the train, informing everyone that they had arrived at the station. The three of you gathered your things and stepped off the train, but Lori dragged her feet, her steps growing slower as she took in her surroundings. It was clear she didn’t want to leave this adventure behind.

You noticed her reluctance, but you knew that for her safety, it was best for her to be with your sister. Standing at the station entrance, you reached into your bag, pulled out another burner phone, and dialed your sister’s number. “Where are you?”

“I was waiting for your call. Have you arrived?” your sister replied, her tone far too casual for your liking.

“Yes, we’re here. Where are you? I told you to wait at the train station,” you said, glancing around the bustling platform.

“Well… I’m on a train,” she admitted, sounding sheepish.

A cold shiver ran down your spine as her words sank in. Panic rising, you bolted toward the nearest platform, ignoring the startled looks of other passengers. You leaped over the barrier, triggering the alarms as you skipped the ticket gate. Security guards shouted after you, but you kept running, your eyes locked on the approaching train.

You skidded to a halt just as the train pulled in, breathless and frantic, and peered through the windows. There, standing casually inside one of the cars, was your sister. She met your gaze, mouthed, “I’m sorry,” then, to your utter disbelief, lifted both middle fingers in your direction with a mischievous grin.

“You bitch!” you yelled, unable to contain your frustration as you mirrored the gesture.

As the train began to pull away from the platform, leaving you behind, you felt a flood of memories rush back. This was exactly why you chose to keep your distance from your sister. Every time you babysat Lori, she’d find a way to take advantage of the situation. And just like that, you were reminded of the chaos she could bring into your life.

You trudged back to the station entrance where Bucky and Lori were waiting. Bucky raised an eyebrow as you approached, sensing your irritation. “What happened?”

“Don’t ask,” you muttered, rubbing your temples as you tried to calm down.

Lori, on the other hand, seemed to recognize the familiar expression on your face—the one you always wore when her mom got under your skin. She jumped up and down with excitement, pumping her fists in the air. “Yes!”

Bucky still looked confused. “Does this mean she’s coming with us to find the author?”

Before you could respond, Lori was already trying to prove her worth. “Ow… ow… you need me! I know where she is. I follow all her social media accounts.”

🥀🥀🥀🥀

“🎵Road trip and adventure! So exciting!🎵” Lori sang from the backseat, her voice full of enthusiasm as the car sped along the highway.

Bucky focused on driving, steering the car toward the location where the author was supposed to be. Lori’s information seemed accurate—she’d been tracking the author’s every move with surprising precision. “From her story an hour ago, she was at the bookstore. Fifteen minutes later, she said she wanted to go to her favorite café, and now she’s got her favorite coffee.”

“Doesn’t anyone care about their privacy anymore?” Bucky muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief.

You glanced at him and shrugged. “Guess not. People are so eager to share their lives online that they forget who might be watching. Makes it easy for someone like Lori to keep tabs on them.”

Bucky nodded thoughtfully, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror, where Lori sat humming to herself, lost in her world.

The car slowed to a stop in front of a cozy-looking café. The three of you peered through the large front window, zeroing in on a woman seated near it. She was engrossed in her laptop, her fingers flying across the keyboard.

There she was—Jill Krege, the author who had somehow captured fragments of your life in her book.

Jill was a woman in her mid-40s, with a calm, unassuming demeanor. She wore a hand-knitted cardigan, its intricate patterns hinting at a patient and thoughtful personality. Her hair, streaked with hints of silver, was loosely tied back, and she occasionally sipped from a steaming mug as she worked.

“She’s kinda…” you began, struggling to find the right words to describe the feeling that settled in your chest upon seeing her.

“You see it too?” Bucky finished for you, his voice low and slightly puzzled.

“Hm…” You nodded, your eyes narrowing as you tried to reconcile the ordinary appearance of the woman with the secrets she seemed to know.

Lori, sensing the tension but not quite understanding it, piped up from the backseat. “What… what am I missing?”

Bucky leaned back in his seat, still studying Jill. “She doesn’t seem like a spy or a diplomat.”

“But appearances can be deceiving. Just like you,” you added, turning to look at Bucky. Your words were edged with both admiration and a hint of old bitterness.

He smirked, his confidence shining through. “Well, dear, that’s because I’m the best.”

Bucky’s hand moved toward the door handle, his mind made up. “I should talk to her,” he said, already halfway out of the car.

“Stop!” Lori’s voice rang out, sharp and urgent.

Bucky paused, one foot on the pavement, and turned to face her with a questioning look.

“This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance for me to meet my favorite author. Let me talk to her,” Lori pleaded, her eyes wide with determination.

Bucky frowned. “Kid, this isn’t a game. We don’t know what we’re dealing with here.”

“She’ll think you’re an annoying fan or, worse, a stalker. But she’ll be comfortable talking to a 13-year-old girl,” Lori countered, crossing her arms with the certainty only a teenager could muster.

You exchanged a glance with Bucky, the logic of her argument sinking in. She did have a point—Jill was more likely to drop her guard around a harmless-looking child than a mysterious adult.

Bucky hesitated, clearly torn between protecting Lori and the necessity of getting information. His eyes flickered with concern as he looked at you, seeking your approval.

You sighed, considering Lori's suggestion. The idea made you a bit uneasy, but you couldn't deny that it might work. “Alright,” you finally agreed, giving her a cautious nod. “But be careful. We’ll be close by.”

Lori's eyes sparkled with excitement as she grinned. “I’ve got a better idea.”

You raised an eyebrow, bracing yourself for whatever she had in mind.

Lori leaned forward, her voice lowering as if she were about to share a secret. “We’ll act like a family!”

You blinked, taken aback by the suggestion. Lori’s enthusiasm was infectious, but the idea of playing house in front of the author who somehow knew so much about your life was a lot to take in. “A family?” you echoed, your tone a mix of skepticism and amusement.

Lori nodded vigorously, her ponytail bouncing with each movement. “Yes! Think about it. We go in there like we’re just a normal family out for some coffee. She won’t suspect a thing!”

Bucky, who had been quietly listening, crossed his arms and tilted his head slightly, considering the idea. “And how exactly do we pull that off?” he asked, his voice laced with both curiosity and a hint of sarcasm.

Lori didn’t miss a beat. “Simple! You’re the dad,” she said, pointing at Bucky. “You’re the mom,” she continued, turning to you. “And I’m the adorable daughter who’s super excited to meet her favorite author.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation momentarily cutting through the tension. “Lori, that’s… quite the plan,” you said, shaking your head slightly.

But as you looked into her eager eyes, you could see how much she wanted this—how much she needed to feel like she was a part of something bigger, even if it was just an elaborate ruse.

Bucky smirked, his eyes meeting yours with a glint of amusement. “Well, ‘Mom,’ what do you say? Shall we give this a shot?”

You exhaled, still unsure but unable to deny Lori’s infectious excitement. “Alright, fine. We’ll play along. But remember, Lori, we’re here to get information, not just to have fun.”

Lori’s face lit up, and she practically bounced in her seat. “Got it! I’ll be on my best behavior, I promise!”

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Author Note: Hey friends,

If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

[starlightsuffered]

On The Throne

Warnings - teasing, smut, unprotected sex, publicish sex

Pairing - King Hal/Fem!Reader

The ball was gorgeous. I was outfitted in the finest of fabrics my new kingdom could buy. I was the newly appointed Princess. My mother had been a mistress of the king. When the Queen had produced no heirs, I was appointed Princess and future ruler of my kingdom. It was a rare circumstance, and thus, my father had encouraged me to make nice with King Hal.

I didn't even know what the new King looked like. He was newly appointed as well, so I supposed we'd have that in common.

I was announced to the room, and I walked in gracefully. Once there I was told my first dance would be with the king. Perhaps my father's urging wouldn't be as hard to follow as I'd thought.

When King Hal came and bowed to me. I was taken aback. The King was young, but not only that, he was beautiful. He had short, curly hair, a pale and thin frame, and eyes alight with mischief.

"Your Highness," I bowed politely.

"You can call me Hal," he smiled.

"Then you may call me Y/N," I allowed.

We began the first dance. The way his hands were gentle, yet firm, seemed to promise things soon to come. I was being twirled, then held tight to his body. My breasts heaved from the dancing, and he glanced down before pulling me closer to his chest.

"You are quite fetching y/n," he said, a smirk gracing his angular features.

"You are quite daring," I told him.

"Whatever do you mean?" he asked with false ignorance.

"You think I don't see? Your eyes continually drop to my chest, your hand on my back creeps southward."

"All innocent I assure you," he chuckled, but I could see the way his eyes were dark with lust.

"What of the way you bite your lip when looking at mine? Or the way you press me against your body?"

"Suppose I am being daring?" he asked, in a near breathless whisper. "What would you make of it?"

"I would say that my undergarments will be of no use after this night, wet as they are."

His eyes fluttered shut, and a low groan came from his lips.

"Do not tempt me so Princess, I have yet so many duties this night," he begged. It was my turn to smirk.

The night ended well, and Hal went around thanking everyone for coming. Later in the night, I could not sleep. My thoughts were consumed with Hal. I couldn't go to his room, so I decided to explore the castle.

I wandered by candlelight until I reached the throne room. The throne sat on a stage, several steps higher than the rest of the floor. A skylight had been added, so that moonlight poured onto the chair.

I walked up to the throne. I ran my hand over the silver, glowing, metal. It was beautiful. I imagined Hal sitting here in all his glory. He would look gorgeous

"Enjoying the castle?"

I turned, nervous about being caught. When I turned I realized it was only Hal. He was smirking and leaning against the entrance to the throne room.

"Yes my lord," I curtsied.

"I said it was Hal," he said as he began to make his way toward me. He looked impish in the moonlight.

"What are you doing up, Hal," I amended my title for him.

"Couldn't sleep, something was on my mind," he told me, as he took the steps toward me, two at a time.

"That is my reason for being up as well," I whispered, now that he was so close to me.

"Well, suppose we remedy that, yeah?"

He began to kiss my neck. His velvety lips made me shudder. The wet spots he left had me weak. Soon his lips were on mine and I was entangling myself with him. He was an expert kisser, with just the right pressure, and wetness.

"You look so lovely in the moonlight," he said, cupping my face. "Are you sure you want this?"

"I am positive Hal."

He was lifting the thin nightdress over my head quickly. He let out a very unkingly swear at the sight of my body. Now it was my turn to hastily remove his shirt. His bare chest glowed. In awe, I ran my hands over the planes of his abdomen.

"Oh Hal, you're so beautiful," I breathed. He took my hand and kissed my palm, before placing it over the bulge in his trousers. I moaned at the hardness I felt there. I began to palm him over his clothes as he unlatched my bra. It fell to the floor and slid down the steps.

He removed himself from my action. I was confused, but he took down his pants. I was amazed by his length, the pink head dripping precum onto the throne's dais.

He moved around me and sat on the throne, his cock standing tall. I gulped. He was smirking at me, as he lazily squeezed his balls. They were heavy and full. I wanted him to empty them inside of me.

I responded but pulling down my undergarments. I turned around and backed toward him. He got the idea, and I placed a hand on my hip. I assumed the other hand was guiding his length to my entrance because I felt his tip pushing into me. I treasured how long it took him to bottom out inside me as I lowered myself.

"Beautiful," he gasped when he was fully sheathed.

I moved off him slowly, then slammed back down. He let out a choked moan. I continued to ride his cock. Sometimes I'd pull off to just his head and gyrate my hips, just to tease him.

"You're nothing like I imagined," he gasped.

"Disappointed?" I challenged.

"Not in the slightest."

He pulled me back against him, stilling my actions for a moment. He suckled on my neck while fiddling with my nipples. I moaned, arching up against his hands. He chuckled darkly in my ear as he began to rut up into me. Now both of us were moving, with his hands on my waist to help me along.

I imagined us with crowns on our heads, doing this in front of our people. Our wet noises and desperate vocalizations, echoing for the kingdom to hear. The idea had me coating his cock with even more of my slick.

"I'm going to cum," he groaned into my ear. He reached around to toy with my clit, helping me near my orgasm. Soon his orgasm shattered over him, and he was thrusting up and spilling into me. I gasped and cried out as the stimulation to my clit had me coming undone around him.

I looked down to see some of him was leaking out of me and onto his sacred throne. Debasing it that way just had me ready to ask him for a round two.

[asunflowerana]

sunday couple — satoru gojo

summary: Satoru does anything for good and cheap food, especially making you his girlfriend.

warnings: satoru is on his early twenties, friends to lovers, lots of banter, gojo smooth like butter. wc: 1400+

a/n: satoru could take me to eat crickets, and I'd still follow this stupid gorgeous man.

The red, and yellow lamps hanging on poles illuminate Shibuya’s central square, crowded with citizens scouring the fair full of assorted supplies. The smell of cardamom powder from a spice stall enters your nostrils, making your nose numb as you try to follow your friend Satoru, the one who left you behind for a taiyaki seller. 

You never thought you’d be traded for a fish cake, but here you are. 

Satoru checks the pockets of his pants in front of him, taking the coins and handing them to the friendly old lady owner of the sweets. She gives him one small cake, and you can almost see him salivating with the piece of sugar in his hands. 

“Your grandma taught you to share, Toru.” You counter with arms crossed, at the same time as he fills his mouth with a good bite of cake, the chocolate ganache sticking out to the sides and smearing his fingers. He breathes in pure relief, and you wonder how hungry he really was since you both went outdoors. 

“It’s too small for two.” He has the courage — stupidity is better — to eat the last piece of the taiyaki in front of you, rubbing his hands together to get rid of the remains of bran and stuffing after that. You could cut his white hair right there. 

“Then buy me another one,Toru! I’m hungry too!" 

”Sweets aren’t good for your teeth, little ______.“ He sends you his special sunny grin, moving his hand to call you closer, his black jacket hanging loose on his shoulders. "C'mon, I’ll find you a diner. My treat.”

His smooth manner almost makes you forget for a moment that he had just refused to share that sweet with you. Not even a little apology, what a goon.

“You better,” Mumbling, you join his pace, walking right beside him as you both stroll through the park.

You were supposed to be at home watching the six-hour marathon of your favorite comedy show, but Satoru showed up at your door in the afternoon, puppy eyes asking you to help him pick out a present for Shoko’s birthday next week, and you couldn’t say no. Not only because you wanted her to have something nice, but because unfortunately, Satoru has a special power over your heart, that makes you want to say yes even if he shows up at 4 AM in the morning for a bike ride through town — which actually happened once, but that’s a story for another time. 

He had this infuriating power since third grade, when both became neighbors and he decided to kick a soccer ball right to your window, giving you quite the fright. You can remember the way you threw the ball on his chest, mad at the crazy boy who didn’t stop laughing and left without a single scratch. 

The crazy boy that owns a part of your heart, a part that you wish could be noticed by him. But Satoru has always been too unpredictable to read, especially when it comes to his emotions. 

A new smell, fried fish and miso soup catch your attention, and a man in his forty approaches you both, coming out of a small but attractive restaurant, izakaya type. He wears casual clothes, portraying a very large smile and belly. 

“Come close young couple, here at Goro’s house you’ll find Shibuya’s best of the best food to fill your hungry tummies, ho ho ho-” You both look at each other with the same frown on your faces. Does this man think you’re in kindergarten? 

Well, Satoru actually has the face, but anyway. 

“...and lucky for you, today is a couple's Sunday!” This caught your attention. 

“What do you mean by "lucky for us”, sir?“ The man’s eyes pop even more open, excited for more clients. 

"Every Sunday couples only pay half for the dinner combo! Here is on our board.” He points at the medium black slate place beside an array of plants at the izakaya’s entrance. 

“COUPLE’S SUNDAY: 50% OFF FOR COUPLES BUYING THE SPECIAL GORO’S FISH COMBO." 

"Wait,” Satoru gulps down, his hands almost trembling from such good news. “So couples really pay half for dinner?” 

He abruptly catches your hand in his, his warmth heating your skin and making your heart flutter in response. “Because we totally are!” He practically shouts that, with a huge grin on face like a kid spotting a candy store. He looks at you, shining marine eyes gazing at yours with excitement. 

“Right, baby?" 

You don’t even know how to react, completely shocked by the nickname that you’ve always daydreamed of him calling you. The way it comes out of his mouth, with his voice, it’s such a precious moment, you can’t believe it’s all for a ridiculous excuse to get a food discount. Before you realize your situation, you’re already seated by a diner table, your friend on the opposite chair in front of you, his goofy smile still on his face as he checks the menu.

His hand remains holding yours on the table, and you can already feel the sweat forming on your palm from the heat and your nerves.

"What… in the world just happened?” You blurt it out, confused as ever.

“Told you I’d buy you dinner, dear  _____. And guess what?” He leans his torso towards you, his chest pressing on the wooden table keeping you both apart. “They have free dorayakis for dessert." 

Rainbows could come out of him by now. 

”But we’re not a couple, you dumb!“ You hiss, leaning just the same as he did, worried that the customers around might notice your facade. 

”I know, we’ll just keep pretending and it’ll all be good.“ Satoru is really good at acting, talking to you like he was babbling sweet praises like those dorky clingy couples. 

He’s such a tease, and he doesn’t even know. Actually, you think he does know it.”Toru, this is not a—" 

A waiter comes to your table, making you both split from your previous position and sit right in your seats. From his trail, he places on the table bowls of udon, plates of unagi, portions of tempura, and green tea. The smell from the steam coming out of the dishes is so amazing, that the only thing your brain processes now is food.

“You were saying?” Satoru playfully questions, thanking the waiter before picking up his chopsticks and digging the thick noodles before him. 

“…..Fine.” You surrender, not really having the strength to refuse this. “But if there’s only one dorayaki later, it’s mine." 

"We can share." 

”But sweets aren’t good for your teeth, little Satoru.“ You mock him right after sucking a noodle into your mouth, the food tasting much better now that you can see his speechless face scrunching up. 

"That’s totally unfair!” He protests, crossing his arms with a pout, a piece of nori on the corner of his mouth. “I’m your boyfriend, you should treat me nice." 

You wish your heart wouldn’t beat so fast. 

But since you’re both pretending, you may as well enjoy it. "First lesson for you: don’t ever let your girlfriend be hungry. Ever." 

"If I give you all of my tempura, will you share the dorayaki?” You hum, pretending to think. “C'mon now, baby! I’m sorry, okay?”

“I’ll think about it.”

In the end, you let him have a good bite of dessert, which is kinda fair since he was the one paying for the whole meal. That dinner really made you heavy, tummy full of food, completely satisfied and pleased. You even wrote down the name of the place, to come back with your friends in another opportunity.

And it seems that your friend also had a similar idea. 

“Are you free next Sunday?” He asks, walking ahead of you, his gaze facing the starry sky as he ponders something alone. 

You know sometimes he likes to venture ahead to ease his mind when there’s something on it, so you don’t mind him going a few feets ahead, knowing he’s still aware of your surroundings even if you’re behind him.

Satoru never failed to protect you. 

“You’re not planning on doing the dating story again, right?” You chuckle, sensing that this will become a Sunday routine for both of you. “They’ll start suspecting if we keep coming every week, you know we’re not really dating.”

“Then let’s date for real.” And again, he turns his wholesome blue gaze towards you, offering another one of the famous, breathtaking Satoru’s grins. But in this case, this one is reserved only for you. 

“How about that?”

© asunflowerana 2024 — all rights reserved.

[edenesth]

TWTHH Spinoff: Take Me Away [Teaser]

Pairing: private investigator!Wooyoung x courtesan!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Summary: While working on a new case in town, Wooyoung was captivated when he stumbled upon a beauty unlike any other. Just as he began to believe that he might have found a Lady Park of his own, word got out that she was merely the newest courtesan at the town's brothel. Disheartened by this revelation, he nearly abandons his pursuit of her until he hears whispers suggesting that she may not have been there of her own will.

Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist | Part 1

"Miss Han, you fortunate little thing! Congratulations on securing your very first client. This dashing young man seems utterly smitten by you, to have reserved your company for the entire evening."

You tightly clenched your trembling fists to your chest, suppressing a terrified whimper as you listened to the brothel madam's devious teasing. You had prayed fervently that nobody would request your services, doing everything you could to remain inconspicuous over the past week, hoping they might see you as more suitable for hard labour; you'd much rather be the lowest servant than do any of this.

Yet, here you were, already with your first client, and not just any client—this man had gone as far as to secure your companionship for the entire day. Such occurrences were rare, even for the most sought-after courtesans in this establishment. You couldn't fathom who this person might be, how he had learned of you, and why he'd spend so much to buy your time.

"Wh-who is it? This customer..."

"Wouldn't you like to know? It's none other than the famous private investigator Jung Wooyoung, known for his significant role in aiding General Park's capture of former Minister Jang. I suppose even men with a strong sense of justice are still susceptible to desire," The sly woman drawled, winking at you, "Don't disappoint us, girl. A client of his calibre could become a valuable long-term patron. Treat him well."

Surprise, my lovelies! I bet y'all thought Mingi would be the first spinoff I'd unveil, huh? TEEHEE! This will either be a oneshot or if it gets too long, I might break it into two parts!

Just a heads up tho, it's the last two weeks of my final semester (which means I won't have as much time to write) but as always, I'll do my best to get this out as soon as I can.

Tag list (1/2): @itstheghostofmypast @huachengsbestie01 @minghaoslatina @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho @the-kpop-simp @writingwieny @stayatinykatsy @skzline @green-agent @stayinhellevator @vampzity @tinyteezer @evidive @vantediary @superbbananananana @kimyeolchan @chocolate-scoups @decadentstrangernacho @vic0921 @foxinnie8 @marievllr-abg @sunnyhokyu @seungmin-in-thebuilding @heyitsmetonid @sansaurora9904 @darkestacademiamindsx12-blog @pay13 @kpop17 @professormingisglasses @newworldwritings @chicken-fifi @thunderous-wolf @shythinggiver @madnpan @yandere-stories @anxiousskylar @frobin4ever @starssongs98 @kamabokogonpachro @chngbnwf @dollce-exe @jan-l @lovelyred2 @haven-cove @watermelon2319 @dreamingofyeo @akimkim @scuzmunkie @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @borntoshineateez @st4rhwa @ddaeing @tropicalsstuff @bts-army380 @skteezcursed @beauty143

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Lilia Vanrouge - Platinum Jacket Voice Lines

When Summoned: So, this museum has reached its 100th anniversary, huh. Guess the next goal is the 200th anniversary!

Summon Line: Now that I've been chosen as a supporter, there'll never be a boring moment. Now then, let's enjoy a fantastic time together.

Groooovy!!: I don't deny understanding their excitement over a sleeping child, but... Can't say diurnal faes and I are compatible in general, though.

Home: Congratulations on 100 years!

Home Idle 1: According to Cater, there were times the Queen of Hearts would get excited over having cake. Looks like she had a cute side, too.

Home Idle 2: Ruggie was looking at the painting of oysters with a hungry stare. I think he's more interested in his appetite than enjoying art.

Home Idle 3: Perhaps it's because I saw that painting of that young lion singing happily with his friends, but... Now I feel like rocking out on my beloved five-string bass!

Home Idle - Login: No one is more knowledgeable about the Thorn Fairy than I. You can leave it to me to explain each painting.

Home Idle - Groovy: After I gave Epel an in-depth talk on the Thorn Fairy, he was very intently looking at her paintings. Ain't I an awesome guide?

Home Tap 1: If you don't know which exhibit to start with, why don't you come look around with me? After all, I'm a supporter of the museum. Mhm!

Home Tap 2: If you see Silver standing in front of a painting for a long while, call out to him for me. There's a high possibility he might be sleeping...

Home Tap 3: Don't you think the Thorn Fairy's subordinates all have something charming about them? As a cutie myself, I can't help but feel an affinity with them.

Home Tap 4: I hear that the Sorcerer of the Sands' familiar was a wonderfully chatty parrot. There's no way he'd beat me when it comes to casual conversation, though!

Home Tap 5: I get why you'd get all excited over me in formal dress, but don't poke me, now. Hm? You were just pointing out that my ribbon was crooked?

Home Tap - Groovy: I thought about buying a shirt from the shop with a painting printed on the front as a gift for myself... Can you pick out the best one for me?

Duo: [LILIA]: Epel, to victory! [EPEL]: It's as good as ours, Lilia-san!

Birthday Login Message: You came all the way out here to wish me a happy birthday? You have my thanks, [Yuu]. What would I like for a present? It's fine, you don't have to worry yourself about it. But if I really had to pick something, I suppose... I'd like to hear about your hometown. It would be fun to hear stories from a place that I know nothing about. There's no way I'll be letting you sleep tonight～!

Requested by Anonymous.

[cicerfics]

Q's 10 Favorite Jumpers, Rated and Reviewed By 007

With Rebuttals (and Revised Rebuttals) from the Quartermaster Himself

Gifted to @foxsoulcourt over on Station Pacific, just for being awesome!

Fits Q like a glove and the shade sets off Q's lovely winter complexion. 9/10.

Didn't this ridiculous business of seasonal color analysis go out when I was still in primary school? You're dating yourself, 007.

Well, somebody has to, since you wouldn't let me take you out for a drink last night.

...

Color less garish than usual, but fuzzy texture makes Q look like he's growing mold. Off-putting. At least, as off-putting as is possible for a man of Q's caliber. 6/10.

It's mohair, you heathen, not mold!

And stop talking about my 'caliber' if you

...

The color washes out your complexion. You ought to stick to darker shades, dear. Still, this one fits you snugly and the knit is thin enough that I can see your nipples when it's chilly in the server room. 8/10, it'd look even better on my bedroom floor.

You are no longer allowed in the server room when I'm in there, effective immediately, lest I file a complaint with Human Resources. Stop looking at my nipples. (And there's a phrase I never thought I'd have to use when addressing a colleague at Her Majesty's Secret Service.)

I live to defy expectations.

Color does marvelous things for Q's eyes but the squiggles give me vertigo. 5/10.

Get your eyes checked, old man, and stop blaming my jumpers for your vision difficulties!

Ranking has dropped to 4/10 due to Q's insolence. Be nicer to me, or I'll be the one to file a complaint with HR. Age discrimination is against regulations, my dear.

Stop calling me that

I don't really think you're that old

You do need reading glasses though

I never thought I'd see the day 007 cites regulations to me.

Why are there so many bars and blocks? Why isn't the jumper one harmonious shade of gray? Atrocious. 3/10.

It's comfortable

It reminds me of that time you

Don't lie, I've caught you looking at me when I was wearing th

It's considered artistic, 007, but of course you wouldn't know anything about that.

Grand old warship, Q. Nothing more.

Don't be ridiculous, of course you're more than

...

Reminds me of my grandfather. Deeply disturbing that I still want to shag Q even when he dresses like my grandfather. 2/10, will be reporting the quartermaster to Dr. Wilson for damaging my psyche.

You will do no such thing. That poor woman has enough to bear as it is. Overseeing your routine psych screenings is enough to warrant hazard pay.

I've caught you looking at me in this one too

You don't own this one, but you should. Let me buy it for you, darling. 10/10, would tug you into a broom cupboard during your lunch hour and undo the buttons with my teeth.

What is your obsession with Tom Ford

I don't see why

You say things like this but then you never follow throu

Why did you cancel our dinner the other nigh

I am not the sort of gentleman who permits himself to be despoiled in broom cupboards, thank you very much.

Puts me in mind of those odd little sailor suits posh people used to make their children wear. I think someone put me in one, once, ages ago. 1/10, you already look young enough to make me feel like a filthy old man, no need to make it worse.

I wouldn't mind if you were a bit 'filthier', actua

Well, if the shoe fits.

And you scold me about wasting money with damaged equipment and bloodied suits. Look at the price tag on this. Outrageous. 10/10, worth every penny, you're delectable in this one.

I only bought it to treat myself after

It was my birthday and i

You said you were taking me out for dinner for the occasion but then you

…Thank you.

I'd ask what I've done to deserve this torture, but I suppose I already know the answer to that. 0/10, I will have burned this one by the time you've read this list, and I apologize for nothing.

You know exactly what you've done, yes.

Three million pounds of my department funding for heaven's sake

Not to mention the fact that you canceled our dinner after I

And I hardly bought this to torture you. I don't buy my clothes with you in mind, 007. Don't be so arrogant.

And if that isn't an empty threat and you've actually broken into my flat and destroyed my personal property, I'll have your head.

My. How forward of you, Q. Well, I'll have to insist you take me out to dinner first. Then you can have whatever bits of me you like.

Don't be vulgar, you menace.

Not unless you're going to follow through on

You're the one who backed out of the dinn

Did you really burn it?

It was a threat to national security. Could sear a man's eyes right out of his skull. It had to go.

The cats agreed with me. They didn't put up any protest when I pilfered from your wardrobe.

For heaven's sake.

Then they're getting their least favorite flavor of tinned food for supper. And you're not getting dinner from me at all.

Now, I hope I'm not being punished for cancelling on you last week.

Of course I'm not

I don't see why you

You

...

You're being punished for wasting your day reviewing my jumpers rather than completing your overdue AARs. Please allow me to direct your attention to the rather large pile of paperwork with your name on it.

Sod the paperwork.

Q. I'm sorry I cancelled. You have no idea how sorry. But something came up.

I'm sure it did.

Something to do with the job.

...

Some internal business. Something had to be taken care of.

Somebody had to be taken care of.

...

Mallory told me not to discuss it with any of the department heads just yet. I handled it, but the job won't be declassified until tomorrow. Expect Tanner to call you and the others in for a meeting in the morning.

...Oh.

Well.

You should've told me sooner.

Q, I'm shocked! You're saying I should've gone against Mallory's direct orders and disclosed classified material to you against his will?

Of course that what I'm saying, you filthy hypocrite. You could've told me. I would've been discreet.

I know you would've been. That's not the point.

...

...Bond?

I'm trying to keep you out of trouble these days.

Trying not to be the man who ruins your career.

You've never

If that's how you feel then why

Even if you did, I'd

Rather unflattering that you assume I can't take care of myself.

I can, I'll have you know. And I never asked you to protect me. I can protect myself...and I can protect you in the bargain, thank you very much. I'm rather good at it, in fact.

Well, I can't argue with you there.

...

...?

Suppose we don't wait for tomorrow's meeting.

Suppose I take you out to dinner and tell you all about the whole sordid business tonight.

...You're planning on disclosing confidential intel in the middle of an Italian restaurant?!

Suppose we skip the restaurant.

Suppose I bring a couple of curries round to your flat and we talk about it there.

The flat you recently burglarized.

Let's not dwell on the past, dear.

Besides, I think the cats are warming up to me.

And I've got an overdue birthday present for you.

...Dare I ask what it is?

A replacement for the jumper I burned. A whole new ensemble, in fact.

Something much better than anything in your wardrobe. Much worthier of you. Something to show off those good looks of yours.

Will you let me give it to you this evening?

...Ah.

Well, I was going to ask what I should wear when you come over, since you have such strong opinions on the matter.

But if you're bringing a new outfit along, perhaps I shouldn't bother to put anything on at all?

Darling, I always said you were a genius.

19:00 tonight, your place. I'd say 'dress to impress', but I think your idea is best.

There's no improving on perfection, after all.

Do you really

I want you to

For God's sake, if you don't make good on your promises this time, I'll

19:00, then. I trust you know the address

Please try to be on time, 007.

For you, Q?

I'll be early.

[luveline]

Hi! Could you please write an Eddie and Roan were Eddie and Reader need to do something, and they can't have Roan with them, and for some reason, Steve and Robin end up taking care of her?

thank u for ur request sorry this is a bit rubbish!! eddie and roan —you and eddie have to manage a potential disaster, so steve and robin babysit

You're first to come through the door, arms wide open and smiling bashfully. "Hey! Thanks for doing this." 

Robin hugs you back, startled.

"We wanted to. We like you even if your boyfriend looks funny," Steve says. 

Eddie walks up the path to Steve's house, Roan's hand in one hand, her backpack in the other. "Because we don't know if we'll be back tonight I put your pyjamas in there, okay?" he says to her. 

"I'm really sorry," you say, hugging Steve in greeting too. He's less awkward than Robin, rubbing your shoulder. 

"Don't worry about it. Rumour has it I kinda like Eddie's tiny spawn," Steve jokes. 

You laugh and pull away from him. "Are you gonna yell at me if I offer you pizza money? Eddie told me not to but I don't think that's very polite–"

"We'll definitely yell," Steve says. He never would, but he doesn't want your money.

You smile at them both with way too much love. Which isn't to say it isn't reciprocated, they really do like you, but you surprised everyone when you started dating Eddie. You're the most earnest person Steve's ever met, heart on your sleeve. He supposes you'd have to have that kind of heart, to love someone's kid like they're your own as young as you are. 

"Okay, well, you obviously can't call us, but I wrote the shop number down in case you didn't have it. Wayne's working until the morning but if there's an emergency he will definitely answer. But please don't let there be an emergency." You rub your lips together. "I'd feel so bad if something happened while we're gone 'cos it's my fault we have to go and–"

"Everything will be fine!" Steve cuts you off. Eddie and Roan walk into the house behind you, and Steve gives her a loving smile. "She's, like, our favourite niece." 

"She's your only niece," Eddie says. 

"We only need the one, she's perfect," Robin says, holding out her arms and leaning down for a hug. Roan runs into her chest, beaming. "Hey! You had a haircut, it looks so nice!" 

"Thank you! I wanted it to be long like dad's but it's too hot." 

"Did she offer you money?" Eddie asks over you as you bend down to say goodbye. 

"Yeah, what's that about? You telling her we're hurting for it?" Steve says, glaring. 

It's an act. He can't last, and he laughs when Eddie laughs, shoving hands into his denim jacket. 

"Everything's okay, right?" Steve adds. 

"I mean, probably? We'll find out. Thank you for taking her. Don't worry, I told her to make as much mess as possible." 

"Fantastic." 

Eddie leans down to give Roan a kiss. "Please be good." 

"I'm always good." 

"You're a liar," Eddie says, stroking her hair behind her ears. "I love you." 

"I love you! Are you still buying me a Barbie on Saturday?" 

"Only if you're good," he says, kissing her forehead. "Okay, bye, baby." He winks at Robin. "I'm coming back for you, Buckley." 

"Ew!" Robin cheers happily. 

You all exchange another heap of goodbyes. Steve, Robin and Roan stand in the doorway and wave you off as you get back into your car and drive away, and when your car turns the corner down the end of the street and disappears, Steve offers his arms for his own hug. Roan takes them. He picks her up. 

"Hey, favourite Munson. It's been a really long time since you came over. Like, months and months. You don't love us anymore?" he asks. 

"Shut up, I do love you," Roan says, laughing. She has a great laugh, as high-pitched as her voice but never grating. "I've been busy." 

That sets Robin off. "You're talking like such a grown up! You need to stop getting bigger." 

"I tried." 

"I bet you did," Steve says. 

"Is Mr. Stinky here?" Roan asks as Steve sets her down again. 

She takes off her shoes, putting them neatly under the stairs, and Steve can't decide if that shows how Eddie's doing a great job or if Roan really is getting bigger. Robin helps her out of her coat, saying, "He's here somewhere. He doesn't like when I move him around, so I think he's hiding under one of the beds. We should wait until he's ready to come out, okay?" 

"Sure! Is his teeth better?" 

Not completely grown up. 

"They are, we went to the cat dentist." 

"The ventist," Steve says.

Roan giggles. "The ventist." 

Taking care of Roan is easier now she's getting older. She can communicate everything she wants without fuss, and she's never shy about wanting. She wants drinks and chips and TV, but she says please after every ask, and Robin and Steve have no reason to deny her. 

The three of them sit on the couch sipping juice boxes and blinking dozily at the screen. "Wait, Princess Polly has a sister?" Robin asks. 

"She's a mermaid," Roan says. 

"Oh. Where's her tail?" 

"It comes out when she goes in the water." 

Roan passes her hand to Steve and Steve holds it without question.

"Steve?" 

"What, bub?" he asks, face on the back of the couch. Roan smiles shyly. 

"Can we do karaoke?" 

Steve is a grown man, mid-twenties, full time job and (just about) paying a mortgage every month, but that doesn't stop him from putting on the tiara, finding new batteries for the karaoke microphone, and singing Princess Polly songs with his best girls. Robin sits on the arm of the couch, Roan stands on the coffee table cheering him on, and Steve rocks the damn house. Every birthday or Christmas gift Steve has bought Roan for the last three years has been Princess Polly themed —he is an expert, and he knows every lyric.

It definitely feels embarrassing, but the girls don't judge. Robin's his best friend in the entire world, and over the years she's seen the absolute worst and the  rare but sweet best of him. And Roan thinks he's a rockstar, she loves it, and that's why he does it, but he knows deep down that if anyone else saw him singing like this he'd have to move cities. 

Roan jumps at him from the coffee table and he catches her deftly, letting her take the microphone to sing her favourite song before it starts, the song where the Prince tells the Princess how strong she is. 

Robin sings the wrong words with them, and after the grand crescendo she turns the TV volume down to call for pizza. 

"What do you want?" she asks Roan, receiver clamped between her ear and her shoulder as she turns the dial. "What toppings? Do you still like sausage?" 

"I want sausage and extra cheese, please," she says, looking back at Steve. "Is that okay?" 

Steve holds up his hands. "You can have whatever you want." 

"Sausage and cheese and pepperoni," she says cautiously. 

"Sausage and cheese and pepperoni," Robin parrots. She doesn't have to ask Steve what he wants. They've been sharing double pepperoni pizzas for nearly seven years. "Do you like chicken wings or no?" 

"Yes!" 

They spend time before the food arrives coaxing Mr. Stinky out from under Steve's bed, baiting him with crunchy treats. Robin squeezes cat yoghurt onto Roan's fingers and Mr. Stinky licks then clean, prompting a roaring, ecstatic laughter from her. She gets her pets in while he's happy. 

There's a knock at the door not long after. 

Steve rushes downstairs to grab his wallet, and is actually agitated when he opens the door to find Eddie at the threshold, you at the bottom of the lane, paying the unsuspecting pizza guy. 

"I tried to stop her," Eddie says. 

"Everything worked out?" Steve asks worriedly. 

"Oh, for sure. What's life without a dumb work emergency? We got there and they basically told her it was a false alarm. I thought she was gonna cry from relief." 

Steve's happy to hear it but disappointed that Roan won't stay. She really does feel like his niece, he loves having her around, and whenever she stays over he and Robin are forced to spend time together doing things they might not think about doing otherwise. He'd been excited to dig out the Monopoly board after pizza. 

Eddie grins as you approach, pizza boxes in hand. "Nice going, sweetheart." 

"These are so hot!" You give Steve a nervous smile. "Could we stay for dinner?" 

"Are you kidding?" Steve asks.

Eddie claps him on the shoulder. You come inside, and Roan is glad you're back but unhappy to have her day cut so short, like Steve. "I wanted to stay over," she whines, "Aunt Robin said Mr. Stinky might sleep with me." 

"She could still stay," Robin says. 

"She definitely could," Steve agrees. 

"Are you sure?" Eddie asks. 

"You could all stay, if you want. I have the air mattress," Steve says. 

You swing Roan around in your arms happily. "Oh my gosh, I haven't had a sleepover in years." 

"It's a slumber party!" Roan says. 

"That'll be a really great one to tell the guys on Monday," Eddie says, opening one of the pizza boxes to cut Roan's slices in half. He waves the pizza cutter around as he talks. "What did you do on Monday, kid? Not much, just a slumber party with my friends." 

"Miss out the slumber in slumber party," Robin suggests, tipping bottled lemonade into glasses, a bag of ice melting slowly on the counter next to her. 

Steve grins and gets to work plating up for him and Robin. "That would be lying." 

"Can we paint our nails?" Roan asks. 

"I don't have any nail polish," Steve says regretfully. 

"I might have a black one in my bag," Robin says. 

"Oh, good. We can do dad's nails, too," you say to Roan. 

Eddie wiggles his fingers enticingly. "Embracing my femininity. What do you say, Harrington? Gonna let me paint yours?" 

Steve ends up letting Roan paint his nails, and they look great. He also lets her do his blush and eyeshadow too, but that's only because she asks really nicely. 

[strangemaleswaps]

Strange Christmas Family Swap

Christmas is supposed to be the time of year where you celebrate joy with your family and loved ones. But everyone has that one family member no one looks forward to seeing, and I’m no different. For me that person would be my grandpa. He'd always been a really cranky guy who, I swear, could find something to complain about on literally any topic. I don't know why he even comes over for the holidays in the first place. Maybe he's just lonely? At least my siblings are coming home. They're all older than me and left for college years ago. Sometimes I felt like I was behind everyone just because I was the youngest, but they always tell me to enjoy being young while it lasted. At least I still had my dog, Lucy, to keep me company. 

“Shoot. Ferris, we forgot to buy your grandpa a present,” my mom mentioned while preparing dinner for Christmas Eve.

“Does it matter? He's not gonna like anything anyway.”

“Yes I know. But it's Christmas. The time of year where you need to treat even those you dislike well. Could you quickly go to that gift shop and buy some cheap ornament?”

“Mom, it's Christmas Eve! Half these places are closed or closing soon.” She looked up a store on her phone and showed me that it closed at 5. It was 4:38.

“There's that one hallmark store within walking distance still open. You can make it in time! I just don't want to cause a scene.” I wanted to take the car, but it would take too long to shovel all the snow, so I walked. The store wasn't that far by foot, but it was still an awful time in the freezing cold. When I arrived, there was a single employee at the counter - an old lady with a messy bun. She greeted me and asked what I needed.

“I have just the thing.” She walked over to the shelf and showed me a little Santa ornament that was wearing a galaxy pattern suit instead of the regular red. It was actually a pretty good gift because my grandpa loved outer space, not to mention he kinda looked like Santa anyway, just without the beard.

“This is perfect.”

“Then why do you look sad?” Her response caught me by surprise. “What do you mean?”

“I can tell something’s wrong. It's Christmas Eve. You should be happy!”

“That's probably easy for others. But for me, Christmas means family time and I don't exactly like someone in my family.

“That's a shame. You're lucky to have a family at least.” She looked down at the floor sadly. It was clear what she meant by that.

“But since you still have people in your life I'd like to help you with your problem. Could I have that ornament back please?” I assumed she was about to check me out so I started reaching for my wallet, when she walked into the backroom with the present instead. As soon as the door closed, the power suddenly went out and I was in pure darkness until there was a weird purple glow coming from the door. All of this only lasted about 10 seconds and the power came back on as if nothing happened. Did I just imagine that whole thing? It was weird. The woman walked back out with a big smile on her face.

“Did the power go out or something? And what happened in there?”

“Oh nothing,” she said with a grin. “Merry Christmas!”

“Yeah, Merry Christmas. I guess.” She checked me out and I was on my way back home.

When I arrived, my siblings were already there, as well as my grandpa.

“Hey! It's Ferris!” said my oldest brother Calvin. He had definitely gained a lot of weight since I last saw him, even though he was an athlete in college. Looks like he still refused to shave the messy beard he started last year. My older sibling Sam grinned at me. They looked exactly as they always did - expressing their love of anime with a nerdy t-shirt and wearing ear gauges that have gotten bigger since the last time I saw them. My sister Em walked up to hug me. She was always the one I was closest with, since she was only 2 years older than me.

“I got a present for Grandpa.” He suddenly looked at me, and then to the bag I was holding.

“It's about time you buy me something! Lemme see.”

“Well not until Christmas.” Despite living to see many Christmases, Grandpa was still an extremely impatient person. He'd actually opened up his Christmas presents early before because he just couldn't stand the wait. This was my first time buying one myself for him (even though it was really just my mom sending me) so I guess he was beyond curious.

“Come on. It's basically Christmas anyway.” He got his large ass out of the seat and approached me. He was wearing a tucked in blue plaid shirt that covered the gut hanging over his pants. He stumbled over to me until we were face to face. I could smell the cigarette smoke on his breath, almost making my eyes water.

“Boy, give me the gift.”

“Dad, just wait until Christmas. You're gonna spoil the surprise.” My mom thankfully defended me and started walking over.

“Fine, but I-” He faked content and snatched the bag from me.

“Dad! Enough!” My mom shouted but it was too late. He had taken the ornament out of the bag, but clumsily dropped it. It shattered all over the floor before he even had a chance to react.

“Oh man.” Sam gulped.

“Now look at what you've done! You ruined my present!” Grandpa yelled in my face.

“Dad! Dad! Calm down. I think you need to go to bed now.”

“Fine! But only because your idiot son ruined my Christmas!” My mom escorted him to the guest room and Em picked up a broom. We both swept together as my mom walked back into the kitchen.

“Could he possibly be more…you know…” I started.

“Horrible? Pathetic?” Calvin added.

“Gross? Nasty?” Sam added.

“Your grandfather is just lonely really. His parents - my grandparents - let him do whatever he wanted. He's a real spoiled man. But I don't think there's any changing him now so let's just endure the day tomorrow and you won't have to see him for a while. Got it?”

“Fine.” The rest of the night was much better and I had a great time with my family. Calvin scarfed down the food so fast he almost choked, Em told me all about what college was like, Sam bragged about his new gauges, and Lucy practically flew under the table as soon as my mom dropped a piece of ham.

When it was time for bed, my siblings got settled into their rooms - Calvin and Sam sharing the same bedroom they did growing up, and Em sleeping in the basement because her old room was turned into an office. I looked at the Christmas tree glimmering with lights and decorations, excited to see what the presents underneath it would look like in the morning. It's a shame that Grandpa's present broke and we had to throw it away, but I guess he got what he deserved for being such a dick. I headed into my bed, where Lucy was already snuggled up in, and nestled up under the covers.

The next morning I woke up to the sounds of shouting, which was unfitting for what was supposed to be a peaceful Christmas morning. It was coming from the room next to me and sounded like my brothers, which was weird because my room was across the hall from them. But it sounded so close. I started getting up, to see what was going on, but when I looked around, I realized I actually was in the guest room

How did I get in here? I gazed down to find my stomach seemed swollen in my white tank top. I lifted it up and to my horror, I realized my slim chest was replaced with a flabby belly! How did I get so fat? I know I ate alot last night but this was ridiculous! The gut flopped out, to a bit over my waist. It felt weird knowing a part of my body was just hanging there. I noticed a bit of chest hair, which was foreign to me, but when I noticed they were gray hairs, it finally hit me. I was a fat old guy in the guest room. I somehow switched bodies with my grandpa!

I heard the voices leave the room so I stumbled over to the door, not quite used to the shift in weight compared to my old twink body, and was about to put my hand on the doorknob when I saw someone looking at me in the mirror. I turned my head to find that it was my grandpa…I mean me…staring back.

I really did look disgusting, not just because of my looks, but because I now had the face of an impatient jerk. I tried doing different facial expressions; it looked weird because I rarely had ever seen my grandpa smile at all. I noticed that I couldn't see my own dick past the belly, not that I would want to. It was probably all wrinkly and gross! What was I going to do? I opened the door to find Calvin walking to the living room. He looked pretty concerned, which was unusual for the carefree personality he usually had.

“Hey uh..Grandpa?” Fuck. Looks like I'm not imagining it after all. I hated this. “Sorry for the noise, it's just that…”

“I'm not even gonna try to pretend.” I spoke, but my voice came out gravelly and deep. It scared me a little bit. “I'm Ferris, not Grandpa. I don't know how it happened! I just-”

“Shit! That's great! I mean not because you're Grandpa now. But because I'm not alone! I'm actually Sam.”

“Sam?” It was actually kinda funny, Sam and Calvin switching bodies. They were close but still completely different people. I couldn't contain my laughter and started giggling, even though it came out as my Grandpa's gruff wheezes.

“Oh sure. I'M the funny one when Mister-wheeze-a-lot can't laugh without sounding like he's dying.”

“Hey! Well Mister-” I stopped myself trying to continue the joke. “Wait, how does that work?”

“The gender is all up to the person. Sure the…” they stared down at the new extra pounds they now carried and shook their belly. “...expression might be different, at least at the moment, but I'm still me. BUT the idiot who looks like me doesn't seem to understand.” As if on cue, Calvin in Sam's body appeared, walking in a macho way, something that Sam would never do.

“Check it out Grandpa! I'm an enby!” Sam gave a huge facepalm.

“Calvin my sweet brother, We. Have. Been. Over. This.”

“Hey whatever. I think it's cool. My face feels so empty though. Maybe I'll start growing a bea-” Sam cut him off right there.

“If you go out there without a clean shaven face, I'm shaving YOUR beard.”

“God no please. It took me like a year to grow that!” Calvin pleaded.

“Hey hey, what about me?!” I interrupted their arguing.

“Oh yeah,” Sam started. “That's not Grandpa. It's Ferris.”

“Oh man Ferris. You're a fucking old dude now!” exclaimed Calvin. He then poked my new belly. “Welcome to the chub club! Well…” He glaced down at Sam's slim figure. “My membership is on hold for now.”

Just then we heard a scream coming from my mom's room. We quickly opened the door, already knowing what happened. We found my mom staring at the mirror with a look of pure horror on her face.

“It's ok Em, we're all body swapped too.” She seemed to calm down when she realized that she wasn't alone in all this.

“Weird case of Freaky Friday here. Especially with Em….and Mom,” added Calvin. Just then my mom, in Em's body, walked in to join in the confusion.

“Well this is awkward. Two of my kids in each other's bodies, my own son in my dad's and I'm in my own daughter's body. Could this Christmas get any crazier?”

“Where's Grandpa?”

“Probably still sleeping.”

We headed over to my room, expecting him to still be asleep, only to find him flexing in the mirror - in my body. I didn't actually have any real muscles, being a skinny twink, so he didn't really have anything to flex. That didn't stop him from admiring himself. When he noticed us, he walked over smiling. It was a creepy sight, not only to see my body move on its own, but also knowing it's my grandpa inside there smiling.

“Hello everyone. It's good to be young again!”

“Uh hey Grandpa.” He looked right at me. “No, no! Call me Boris! YOU'RE the grandpa now!”

I felt so humiliated. He was actually…cool…in my body! And I was just the fat old guy that nobody liked!

“Dad, we need to figure out what happened so you can become your old self again. Ok?”

“Hell no! I'm young again for the first time in years. No way I'm giving away this opportunity!”

“I got it!” Em suddenly exclaimed. We all turned around wondering what she meant. She showed us her phone - or rather my mom's phone.

“What?”

“How we all swapped bodies! That ornament that Ferris got! There's an ancient artifact that can take on different appearances. It says it's been known to cause mischief when broken.”

“What kind of ancient thing is meant to be broken? How has it lasted this long then?”

“That's the thing. Everytime it breaks, it finds a new place and takes on a new appearance. But it always takes on the appearance of an object that its next victim will need.”

“Shit. And that's why the present seemed perfect for Grandpa.”

“Hey! I got a much better gift than any of you!” cheered my grandpa as he flexed his arms once agaih.

“But…how do we find it again?”

“Y-you don't. Unless you want to search the whole world for something you don't even know what it looks like.”

There was a deafening silence after she spoke those words. We all realized the truth was that we would never return to our old bodies. I was stuck as an old man forever!

“Hey, it's not so bad,” my grandpa started, seemingly reading my mind. He leaned over and lifted up my shirt, exposing my gut, and slapped it. “The belly is pretty comfy after all. You'll love it.” Maybe he was right. I'm sure I could make the silver bear look work. As I thought about that, I noticed a bulge starting to form. Grandpa turned to look at everyone with a huge smile on his face.

“Merry Christmas everyone!”

[serenescribe]

A gift for @suntails my beloved <3 Based off her iconic and incredible Sheriff Silver nui. I wrote this while we were on call to flex how fast I could write. I am sharing it for the world to see.

(I'd say Silver is about... a preteen or a young teenager in this one.)

“Father… what is this?”

“Oh, just an outfit I found while out on my travels,” Lilia replies smoothly, eyes shining as he rests his fingers against his chin, his other arm folded. “I thought it’d look rather cute on you, so I decided to buy it back, hm?”

And cute Silver looks indeed! Even as his eyebrows pinch together, a v-shape forming between the brows as his lips press together, Lilia cannot deny how dashing the outfit looks on him. He wears a bandana, wrapped around his neck, covering a matching vest and shirt. A sheriff’s badge is pinned to his lapel, signifying the role the outfit mimics. With a pair of chaps covering his pants and a pair of spurred boots, the final thing to finish off the look is the massive hat on his head — a cowboy’s hat, as it is called.

Despite the authority the outfit is supposed to radiate… Lilia cannot help but grin at how sweet Silver looks in it. If he only put on a serious face instead of a confused one, he would surely emit a powerful aura that would drive any enemies into hiding!

“Father,” Silver sighs, shoulders slumping as he shakes his head, “not that I want to turn down a gift, but… why did you get me this?”

Lilia pouts; does Silver not believe his words? “Does it matter?” he sighs, shaking his head morosely. “Don’t think too hard about it.” And as he says that, he reaches out to pluck off the hat and ruffle Silver’s hair.

That, at least, elicits a smile. My little sheriff, Lilia thinks warmly.

Not that Silver knows what a sheriff is, for that matter. Or a cowboy.

(Photo taken by @suntails! What a dashing lad!)

[itsgrimeytime]

Magnolia in May (Part One) || Rick Grimes (TWD) x Greene!f!reader Regency AU

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Song Inspiration (in honor of Speak Now Taylor's Version): Enchanted by Taylor Swift

Summary: Your town was small, not the smallest you knew, but anyone of high fortune was the gossip of the week. Predictably, Richard Grimes was a thing of whispers -rumors of a search for marriage among the grassy hills. You weren't one to buy into town gossip, but something about him... just seemed a little too intriguing.

TWS: mentioned infidelity, abandoning children, and rumors.

[[ A/N: Is a Southern accent accurate for this time period? No, no it is not. Do I care? No, no I do not. Pride and Prejudice vibes. You are the sister of Maggie and Beth, and the daughter of Hershel. For plot purposes, I've decided you're the oldest. I was twirling my hair and giggling at this soooooo... And yes it is a quote from The Princess and the Frog. Anyway, thanks for reading!! ]]

"Oh, please," Maggie laughed, "-a rich man? Here? Never."

You added in a shushed voice, as it was late in the night, "Last man I saw around here was Mr. Knightley, and I'd surely say he's much too old for my taste."

The giggles filled the candle-gleamed room, it was coated in a special shade of orange -almost like a sunset. You thought it'd be a nice painting were you to ever find the motivation to paint.

The rumor that had been spilled in the quiet of the night was a man with a vast fortune on the hunt for a wife -nothing was known about him. Just that he was rich and wife hunting was enough for some people. Most people.

"I heard he's quite handsome," Beth whispered -across the room in her single bed, while you and Maggie shared the double.

You quipped, "I supposed someone imaginary might be so."

The pillow that went flying across the room only allowed more giggles to surmise in the dim room -an aura of pure joy.

Beth, who was now smiling but still wished to be taken seriously, "I'm serious! Cassandra a few towns over said she saw him in his carriage."

"I'm not so sure you should be looking in carriages, Beth," Maggie retorted -laughter on the tip of her tongue.

"You two are despicable," hissed across the space, as yet another pillow flew toward the bed.

It was such a far-off idea, really. A visitor? Here? Really? Alexandria was a far too quiet town for anyone to even travel to. Everyone knew everyone and so a visitor would only be talked about rather than be approached; eyes across the road, everyone would be waiting for a mistake. For something to spread.

"If there is such a man," you spoke, leaning back against the bed after the giggles were silent and the candles extinguished, "-I'd say he's rather brave for it."

You woke up that morning to the birds chirping -bright and sing-songy. It was like an alarm to you, pleasant noises against the cold of the morning and you thought just for a second... Maybe you could sleep in just a few more moments.

"Girls! We must be up and ready," her voice echoed up the stairs -pointed and sort of squeaky, "-I have some grand news!"

Naturally, your Headmistress had halted those plans -always eager to instill proper behavior. It was her job, after all. Your father had hired her, shortly after your mother had passed -a sickness not even your father could fix. It was a difficult decision, but with three young daughters and no mother, you never really blamed him. In order to excel, you needed to be married, and to be married, you needed to be proper.

"If I could, I'd hold the house on my own. But, I'm getting older and I'm not what I used to be."

Your father was much looser on restrictions, and you and your sisters would've never gotten this far with your Headmistress Elisa, tragically. She was quite the bore.

Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you pulled yourself up -beautiful birds washed out by Ms. Elisa's fussing. Quickly brushing your hair back into something more presentable, you shook and woke both of your sisters, whispering that you'd stall until she came looking.

"Headmistress, Father-" you spoke, adjusting your dress (the one you'd hardly worn because it was terribly out of fashion) and stepping out into the open, "-good morning."

Your father was at the table, head flickering between a file laid at his fingertips -a patient, you assumed. He often took cases home that irked him or needed more thought than what he could do at the clinic. Drastically careful with the personal details, you really only learned of medical issues instead of the faces behind them. Your father was adamant in never went farther.

"Good morning, darling," Elisa smiled, a little frustration in the pull of her lips -probably at the noticeable lack at your sides, "-good to know someone listens to me."

And then she paused, eyes racking along the dress you'd chosen in a split second -as you knew she would.

"Oh, no no no-" she echoed, tsking as she pinched the fabric in her hands -eyes analyzing the fabric, "-this won't do, Dr. Greene, we need much better dresses for the girls-"

"Headmistress, I'm sure I could find something more fitting, I foolishly assumed this was just breakfast-"

"Better dresses?" he questioned, file laid closed by his hands, "Whatever for?"

That was when your sisters had joined, hair not perfect but much better than you thought it would be on the time limit. Their dresses were much the same, evidence of a lack of current fashion trends -you flinched at the Headmistress's gaze settling on it.

"Well, now that everyone is present," she spoke, tone clipped and posture impossibly straight, "-Alexandria is expecting rather prolific company."

Father straightened then, attentive to the prospect, "And who may this be? Would I know them?"

"You must-" her voice was almost dreamy at the prospect of such a lavish living, "-the man's rather well-known in Atlanta, rather, the family is. Rhee, darling."

Your father paused seeming to take in the information -like he was trying to remember if he'd known the name, or maybe specifically the person.

"But-" your Headmistress grinned, the most excited you'd ever seen her, "-there’s even more! The younger man of the Rhee name, he's close friends with the man who owns the large estate only a few miles off of here."

"It's safe to assume they'll both be around, then?" Beth asked with the shyness that reflected her age -she was rather doe-eyed.

It had always caused you to worry, your youngest sister out in the world. She was capable, really, just a smidgen naive, and such a beautiful girl can't afford to be naive.

Before the headmistress could answer, Father seemed to add some things together -the furrow on his brow prominent, "Wait, the man who owns the estate? You mean the one off the road around the Henleys?"

"The one with the lavish fountains, yes," Elisa answered, a bit disinterested in this turn of conversation.

"I know Mr. Grimes," he stated -a sort of empathy deeply seeded into his tone, "-and knowing him makes me certain he is not looking for a mistress. Not after the first one."

You pursed your brow, a bit confused by the wording, "Is the man a widow?"

Your father faltered, a bit of uncertainty flattening upon his lips, "Well, not quite, dear. He lost his wife, yes, but not the way you think."

"If you count 'running off with a soldier' losing her, you mean."

Father's face stiffened, "Miss Elisa, it's rather disrespectful to speak of a man's life that way."

"Just the truth, Hershel," she leaned in to you three -whispering the rest, "-I heard it was the man's own best friend."

"If you must know, I'd much rather tell you correctly. Mr. Grimes is a man I rightly respect," your father sighed, a bit of defeat on his tongue but you honestly couldn't say you weren't interested, "-She did run off with a soldier, General Walsh -I believe. And it was Mr. Grimes most trusted companion, a friend from youth from what I understand. Left him and the children about 2 years ago."

Maggie, who'd been silent until now, asked, "Children?"

"Yes," your father added, a little forlorn, "-he's to raise them himself. I find I empathize him."

"More reason for him to be on the look," your Headmistress tsked, "-who wouldn't want a maternal figure for their children? It'd be truly shameful."

You bit your tongue at the implication, heavy stares at your father, "I'm sure he has their best interests at heart, Headmistress. It's not right to assume a man's honor just on rumor alone."

"Not right, indeed," Father agreed, turning back to his file so slightly, "-if he is looking for a mistress, as you say he is, he'd be a wonderful suitor for you girls. So, I'm not very opposed."

And then the Headmistress was off again, fiddling with each sister's hair and pulling out old fabric for ribbons (she asked for new ones, and was met with the conundrum of dress or ribbons). She'd especially fussed over you, being the oldest of the group -she wished to have you married first. "The longer you wait, the harder it'll be, trust me, deary."

Needless to say, you were quite joyous that Headmistress had still sent you on your weekly visit to the shops.

It had intially started much like how this morning had -a wish for anyone to ask for your hand or even begin courting you. After that ended (only because any man in a ten mile radius was either not rich, happily married, or much too old), she'd requested you simply because you were the most trained.

Maggie was in a bit of a rebel streak, Headmistress surely feared any time she left the house without supervisor, and Beth? Well, she was rather well-composed but still naive. The first -and last- time she had gone, she'd spent much more than you'd probably spend in a month. Local men had swindled her and she hadn't even noticed.

You were a middle ground, already having your rebellious streak and fully knowing how to stand your ground.

That morning the market was busier than you expected, as you navigated through the stalls each one only smelling better. Your first stop was always fruit, as the better stock would always be taken early you urged to get the best... reasonably.

The man who ran the stall was kind, had a wonderful smile and always remembered your name, you found you always remembered his : Mr. Elliotts.

He was old, and seemed to only really have the fruits to his name -he was rather fond of talking and had told you a lot. You knew much about the man, and dreaded the day he'd close up shop -you'd miss him if he did.

"Hello, miss," his voice was big and grand, tone ever-so-happy to see you, "-I've got quite the selection for you today. All your favorites."

"After my heart, Mr. Elliotts?"

He laughed, a jolly sort of laugh you would've expected Saint Nick to have when you were young, "Funny, don't let your father hear that one, eh? I've got all types of berries for you, specially grown."

"Oh, thank you," you said, grateful.

Mr. Elliotts was not a clean man, you knew that much, his facial hair was overgrown, and his face was always dusted in a healthy spatter of dirt. It had always just seemed more natural to you, than the other cleaner stalls decorating the square. You knew very well you were often the only customer of his, just because he looked like he'd gotten the fruits himself.

"No problem," he grinned -big and toothy.

Once the conversation had settled, you'd ordered your berries with a sense of ease -merely pointing gently at the types just in case he couldn't hear you. You were comfortable with him and were rather fond of his presence. So even after packing away the fruit you'd bought into your basket, you still stayed near.

After the first few stories though, there was something odd.

On your arm, the basket rested -poised prettily, properly. It felt like a familiar weight at this point -used to the trips that you'd become rather excited about. But what wasn't was the slight tug on your dress -you'd barely noticed it, merely feeling like a gust of wind.

On instinct, though, your head turned to check it -eager to keep your dresses in good condition so your Headmistress wouldn't lose her head. And when you had, you'd met an unfamiliar face.

It was a little girl, her hand cinched on your dress and pulling on the fabric -intent on getting your attention. She was blond, a mess of curls gracing her head only alluding to what she had been up to earlier that day -you couldn't help but smile at her.

"Well, hello, little one," you hummed, crouching down to her side and looking around for anyone that had been looking for her, "-where are your parents?"

The little girl didn't speak, as you thought she might know a few, only leveling with your basket -brown eyes heavily focused on the fruit within. You pursed your lips, watching her as her little tiny hand extended toward you -open and shutting her fingers in a grabbing gesture.

You smiled, still flickering in the crowd for anyone with that familiar worry, "You want one?"

Still crouching down, you fished into your basket -grabbing one that she could hold and gently placing it in her palm. Her grin was a little toothy, as she with ease ate the blueberry -dribbles of the vivid blue making a mess along her mouth.

And then, a voice with an unfamiliar accent spoke about the crowd, "Judith? Where are ya? Have you seen a little toddler 'bout yay big little pink dress, blonde curls-"

Without so much as an extra thought, you gently grabbed her clean hand -keeping her close to your side. Your eyes wandered to match the voice of the man, guiding Judith back to her home. The market was a little too busy to go just on noise-

And then, you saw him.

A tall man with pushed-back brunette curls that were elegantly brushed behind his ears, and a pinch of worry in his eyebrows. He was currently turned to an older lady -crouched slightly to speak to her appropriately. You could see the brush of stubble across his jaw, and a hint of bright blue eyes.

You spared a thought, he's quite pretty. Before pushing it away, and trying to gather his attention, "Sir? Hello, excuse me-"

The man spun to your attention, blue eyes settled intently on you -a bit in shock. You immediately realized he was quite finely dressed for such an occasion, a neatly pressed white shirt and brown vest -a sort of detailed satin. Sleeves elegantly rolled up from the heat, he still looked starchly overdressed -you brushed at your dress insecurely. He seemed to start to say something-

"Dada," the girl, Judith, squealed -escaping your hand to run to him.

The man stalled for a second, eyes still set on you -before seeming to shake his head back into shape. He crouched down to match her enthusiasm, arms open wide and grinning, "Jude, thank god."

Pulling the girl to his chest, he stood. Eyes uncertainly settling on you, but still with an expert air of gratefulness, "Thank you so much, you really don't know what you've done for me, Miss uh-"

"Greene," you answered, unused to such affection displayed by a father -you found it rather charming, "-Ms. Greene. And really there's no need, I'm glad to help. She's a sweetheart."

"No, no, really-" he spoke, still a little uncertain, "-Is there anything at all I could do for ya? You have no idea-" And then he paused, looking towards his daughter with a peculiar eye (the smudge of blue still prominent on her lips) and then your basket.

"Oh, right, sorry-" you apologized, straightening the basket on your arm with a sort of nervous fidget, "-I just bought them from a stall, Mr. Elliotts, she seemed to want one. I apologize if I overstepped-"

"Could I buy ya more?"

You stalled, "I... what?"

He paused, thinking over his own words, "Well, she ate one and I'd like to thank you-"

"Sir, she only ate one," you answered -smiling at the odd idea he'd explained, "-trust me, it won't be missed."

"I insist," he carefully spoke, Judith bouncing gently in his arms a passive sort of affection you found rather endearing.

You opened your mouth, rather unused to such forward generosity -especially for something so simple as what you had done, "Well, it wouldn't-"

And then, as if the world had heard the offer (and hated you), the church bell rang -a sort of melodic noise that brushed over the center. You usually enjoyed it, keen on the tone that settled over your skin, but this time, you didn't.

"Oh, is that the bell?!" you stopped yourself, frantically looking up at the swinging golden symbol, "-I'm so sorry, I'm going to be late for breakfast. Perhaps next time?"

"'Course," he responded -the low rasp of his voice sounded quite melodic itself, you noted, "-'til I see you again. Enjoy your breakfast."

"Right, yes-" you shook yourself out of your stupor, and you think you heard him laugh, "-you and Judith enjoy your day as well, okay?"

"We will," he said -a semblance of a grin brushing across his face, you turned a bit crimson at it. All perfectly white teeth and dashing charm, "-Goodbye, Ms. Greene."

That was the last you heard, as you hurried across the courtyard -not very eager to listen to your Headmistress screech about timeliness and its importance to a proper woman. You'd imagine she'd nearly die if she could see you running through the courtyard now, actually.

You thought, just for a spare second, it might be worth it.

[cherrycola27]

false god

Series Warnings: Mythology!AU. Language, alcohol, drinking. Military inaccuracies. Mutual pining, unrequited love. Allusions to and full smut. Minors DNI. 18+. Individual chapter warnings will come as needed. Banner Credit @thedroneranger

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Chapter 17: Something Just Like This

Space. A place in this world to call your own. It's something you had always wanted—something you craved.

For a while, you had that here in your apartment with Hydra and Cerberus, and now Bradley. And you had loved the space you shared with them. Until she came along and contaminated it. Your home, the place that was supposed to be your safe space, had been desecrated.

Maybe that's why, when you woke up in the wee hours of the morning on Tuesday, with Bradley still fast asleep, you found yourself scrolling through real estate sights looking at houses. You hadn't lived in an actual house on earth, ever.

The thought of having one never crossed your mind. Buying a house meant staying somewhere. It was a physical representation of permanence. Something you never had before.

But now, with Bradley, your husband, you wanted a place for the two of you. A place to raise your future family because you were done running. You'd found your place in this world.

You scrolled and scrolled until you found the perfect house. It was a four bedroom colonial. Two stories, fenced in backyard, and a large front porch. It had a pool, which you weren't thrilled about, but you knew Bradley would love.

It was in a quiet neighborhood in Coronado. The house had hardwood floors throughout, and the listing said it had been newly remodeled, which was evident in the pictures.

The outside had beautiful landscaping, which complimented the lime-washed brick of the exterior. The only drawback was the price. For most, it would deter them, but for you, who'd spent over a thousand years saving and investing on earth, it was a drop in the bucket.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you filled in your information to set up a meeting to tour the house at ten in the morning. You didn't want to tell Bradley because it's not something the two of you had talked about, but it felt so right.

So, in the morning, you told him you had some errands to run and a surprise for him when you returned.

When you came back home around two that afternoon, you were giddy with excitement. "Love, pack a bag." You announced to Bradley as you came through the door.

"For?" He asked you with a raised eyebrow.

"For Virginia Beach. I figured we might as well take advantage of this time off that we have. I know you've been wanting to go home for a bit, and I'd love to see where you grew up. So, I made a few calls, worked out a few things, and I booked us two first class tickets. Our flight leaves at five. You announce proudly as you go to your bedroom and pull out some suitcases and start packing.

"Woah, babe, slow down. What about Hyrda and Cerberus?" Bradley asks as you toss clothes at him.

"Penny agreed to pet sit for us." You tell him.

"Well, what about a place to stay? I normally stay with my aunt, but I can't just spring this on her." Bradley asks you concerned.

"Bradley, it wounds me that you don't have faith in me." You mock him as you turn around to face him for the first time. "I got us a hotel. Everything is taken care of. Now start packing!" You scold him as you return to your suitcase.

Bradley exhales, knowing that it's fruitless to argue with you. So, he relents and starts packing alongside you.

An hour and a half later, the two of you are being dropped off at the airport. You decided to Uber rather than leave either of your vehicles there.

The moment you get your bags out, a young man greets both of you. "Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Bradshaw. I can take your things for you, and then you can follow me to the lounge."

Bradley looks a little surprised but hands your luggage over. The two of you follow the steward to the first class lounge and take a seat before getting a drink.

Bradley looks around as he settles into the plush chair with a glass of expensive scotch. "This is something else." He remarks. "Have you never flown first class?" You ask him.

"Never. When I fly commercial, I always try to upgrade to business because I'm too big to fit comfortably in economy." He shrugs his shoulders and continues to look around.

"You know, I sometimes forget that you're like, wealthy from being around so long. But then you buy me fancy watches and first-class plane tickets and I remember." Bradley chuckles.

"Bradley, Love." You lean forward in your chair. "I'm not wealthy. We are wealthy. You're my husband. For better or worse, what's mine is yours." You remind him.

"If you say so—still—it's a lot to take in." He sighs as he checks the time on his aforementioned expensive watch that you bought him.

A little while later, the two of you are on the plane tucked into your first class suite with all the bells and whistles, complete with lie-flat seats and a door.

Bradley is engrossed in finding out what all the buttons do when a flight attendant comes by with two glasses of champagne as you wait for take off.

"We didn't order these." Bradley says, but you pat his shoulder and chuckle. "They are complimentary. Perks of first class." You smile at him before grabbing the glasses and toasting. Minutes later, a dinner menu appears, and Bradley marvels at all of the choices, unable to decide.

You lean back in your chair and watch him over the rim of your glass. He's like a kid in a candy store. It warms your heart that you are able to give him all of this. You thought maybe completing your quest for worthiness was your purpose in life, but looking at your husband, you realize loving him is your true purpose.

The roughly six hour flight goes smoothly. After dinner, your suite is converted to a bed so you and Bradley can get some sleep. However, the two of you decide that joining the mile-high club was a better idea. You came with Bradley's hand firmly covering your mouth and his chest pressed against your back with him whispering absolutely filthy praises in your ear about how you were such a good girl for him.

By the time the two of you made it to your hotel late that evening, you were both thoroughly exhausted. You took a quick shower together before curling up to get some much needed sleep before meeting his family tomorrow.

....................

You woke up the next day extremely nervous.

Today, you would meet Carole's sister, Bradley's Aunt Marsha, her husband Tom, and their three children.

While the two of you were getting dressed, Bradley could sense that you were worried. The entire drive there in your rental car, he assured you that they would love you, and everything would be fine.

You felt nauseous as he pulled into their driveway. His aunt and uncle had a lovely home, and Bradley told you that they were great people, but this was all new to you.

You held his hand tightly as you climbed the couple of steps that led to the front door. Bradley rang the doorbell, and the two of you patiently waited for someone to answer. He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze just before the door opened, and a lovely middle-aged woman with short blonde hair opened the door.

"Oh my goodness! Bradley! What are you doing here?!" The woman, who you knew had to be his aunt because she looked just like Carole, exclaimed as she pulled him in for a hug before cupping his face. She hadn't noticed you yet.

"Hey, Aunt Marsha! I had a few days off, so I thought I would fly out here and surprise you. I also wanted to introduce you to someone." Bradley said as you pulled you closer to him. "Y/N, this is my Aunt Marsha. Aunt Marsha, this is Y/N, my wife." Bradley smiled.

Bradley's aunt stood there silently for a moment before a wide grin spread across her face. You turned her head over her shoulder and called into her home. "Tom, Conner, Alyssa, Maddie, meet me in the living room. Bradley is here, and he brought his wife!"

Marsha ushers the two of you inside and directs you to her living room, where you sit down on the sofa.

"Marsha, what are you going on about?" And older gentleman, whom you assume is her husband, comes into room holding a cup of coffee before stopping in his tracks when he spies you and Bradley sitting on couch. You aren't sure what to do, so you shyly wave at him. He opens his mouth to speak, but before he can say anything, Bradley's cousin burst into the room. "Mom, what do you mean Bradley brought his—" a tall boy who has blonde curls similar to Bradley's stops short when he sees the two of you. "—Wife." He finishes in a choked tone. The two girls stand there silently, each mirroring their father's shocked expression with wide eyes and mouthed slightly agape.

Marsha stands up and scolds her husband and children. "Don't just stand there, introduce yourselves!"

All at once, the four of them move toward you. You and Bradley both stand up, and you shake hands with his Uncle Tom and his cousins Conner, Alyssa, and Maddie. You a sit back down, and there is an awkward silence in the room.

"Well, Y/N, tell us about yourself, honey." Bradley's aunt breaks the silence as she brings in cups of coffee for all of you. You take the mug and take a deep breath.

"Well, I'm a pilot like Bradley is, I'm originally from North Carolina. I'm thrity-one. I'm Greek. I have a dog and a cat, my rank is Commander, I graduated from the Naval Academy, and my parents passed away when I was nineteen. Oh, and my call sign is Hades." You say, telling them what you'd practiced on the drive over here.

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry to hear about your folks." Marsha says. "It's fine, Mrs. Edwards." You shrug your shoulders. Bradley's aunt shakes her head.

"Mrs. Edwards is my mother in law. I'm Marsha or Aunt Marsha, whichever you prefer. We are family now." She smiles at you coming to sit by you on the couch and resting her hands over yours.

"Aren't you just the most beautiful woman. If there's one thing those Bradshaw boys can do, it's pick a beautiful wife. My goodness Bradley, she is gorgeous." Marsha compliments you. "Thank you." You smile back at her. "And she went to the Academy and is a Commander. That means she outrank you, doesn't it?" Marsha asks him.

"She sure does." Bradley chuckles. "Beautiful and smart. No wonder you couldn't stop talking about her when you came out to Maddie's graduation!" Marsha laughs, and Bradley blushes. You turn to him a quirk an eyebrow.

"Oh, honey, you should have heard him. He wouldn't stop talking about you!" Aunt Marsha says. "So, tell me the story, how did you two meet and all that jazz?" She asks you.

"Bradley was assigned to be my wingman, and we became friends and found out by accident that we were neighbors. We kind of danced around the fact that we liked each other for a while until Bradley asked me out on a date on my birthday. We went out the next day. Dinner and the boardwalk amusement park. He won me a stuffed shark!" You cheer as you tell them.

"Then Bradley got hurt, and I convinced him to move in with me, and last week, he proposed, and we eloped on the beach." You say, leaving out some of the more supernatural details before showing her your ring.

"This was your mother's ring, wasn't it?" Marsha asks with a few tears in her eyes. "Yes, yes, it was." Bradley says to her.

"She and Nick would have loved you." Marsha smiles at you. "You know, I never met two people who were more perfect for each other than my sister and Goose. You know he proposed after four dates. I guess when you know you know. I know Carole never loved anyone else after him. I hope they found each other in the afterlife and are happy together." Marsha sighs.

"They are." You sigh, and she looks at you confused. "I mean—I'm sure they are. Bradley has told me so much about them." You recover quickly. Marsha sighs before getting up to take your coffee cups. You offer to help her and follow her dutifully into the kitchen. You set the mugs down on the counter and turn to ask Marsha if she'd like help washing them.

But as you turn, your elbow catches the handle of one, and it crashes to the floor, shattering into a million pieces. "Oh no! I'm so sorry! Let me clean it up!" You drop to your knees to grab the broken fragments of ceramic. A sharp piece catches your index finger and you wince, drawing back at the pain.

You bring your finger up to examine yourself and notice the fresh, crimson blood leaking out of the cut. Your eyes go wide with shock. This isn't supposed to happen.

"Are you okay, dear? Here, let me get the broom." Marsha says as she scoops you to your feet and sweeps up the mess. "I'm so sorry." You say to her again.

"Oh, honey, don't you worry. There's a hundred more where that came from. Do you need a bandage? Come over to the sink and grab a stool, I'll clean you up." She says.

"I'm fine." You assure her as you wash the blood from your hands.

Hours later, you and Bradley's family, well, your family now, are gathered around the dining room tabled eating. The cut and dropped mug from earlier long forgotten.

The atmosphere is warm and welcoming and it's nice to sit down and have a family dinner where everyone wants you around.

It's nice to have a real family.

That night, when the two of you leave, Marsha and Tom insist that they have enough room for the two of you to sleep over, but Bradley tells them you already have a hotel room. His aunt makes you promise to come over again before you leave so she can show you some photo albums of Bradley through the years. When you return the next day, you spend hours flipping through them with her. Bradley blushes every time Marsha shows you one that he deems embarrassing, but you love every minute of it.

The two of you spend the next few days exploring. The day before you're set to leave, Bradley takes you to the graveyard where his parents are buried.

As you drive into the cemetery in your rented car, you hold tight to Bradley's hand. Afraid of what might happen if you don't.

He drives up a hill and stops at the top, pulling the car over to the shoulder and shutting off the engine. You both unbuckle, but you reach for his arm before exiting. "Bradley, wait," you say, catching him by the elbow.

"What's wrong, Angel?" He asks you with a soft expression. "I just—I just need to do something before we go out there. C'mere." You say to him as you pull him closer.

You lean over the console of the rental car and thread your fingers through the hair at the nape of Bradley's neck before pressing your foreheads together. You close your eyes and take a few deep breaths hoping that your idea works.

You break apart and look down, and a smile graces your features as you see what you were hoping to see.

"What was that about?" Bradley questions you. "I was seeing if we were tethered." You tell him. He cocks an eyebrow, still unsure.

"Graveyards and one of the places that I can easily travel back to the Underworld. When I'm in my true goddess form, I can see the portals inside them. But when I'm in my mortal form, I can't. If I would accidentally pass through one, I don't know if I would be strong enough to make it back. But if I'm tethered to you, I have something connecting me here to the mortal world. It keeps me safe." You explain to him.

"How do you know we are tethered?" Bradley asks. "Look at your ring. You should be able to see it." Bradley looks down, and there's a gold string running between the two of you. "Holy shit." He breathes out. "How—how is that possible? How can I see this?"

"Because you're the King of the Underworld. And as much as I never thought they existed, Bradley, you're my soulmate. Only soulmates can be tethered. It's how they find each other in the afterlife." You explain to him.

"But, but I thought you said we couldn't be soulmates. That our marriage could never be real?" Bradley shakes his head.

"Ancient laws are tricky. But I think you made it real, Bradley." You say as the pieces fall into place in your mind. "How?" He retorts.

"Because you made me an alter the first time we made love. You said you would worship at my hips, worship me. You made me an alter, and so when we got married—"

"We married at an alter of the Gods, an alter for you." He finishes. "Exactly." You smile. "So what does that mean, Angel?" Bradley presses further. "It means they can't take you from me. Gods can't tear apart soulmates. Looks like you're stuck with me." You chuckle.

Bradley smiles and kisses you before stepping out of the vehicle and coming to open your door. You slip your hand in his as the two of you walk to the headstone that marks his parent's resting place.

The two of you walk up, and Bradley introduces you as if they were actually standing in front of you. He starts talking about you to them, and you can't fight the tears that slip down your cheek at his one-sided conversation.

It's moving to watch him talk about your love and your marriage to his parents. He does it in such an enthusiastic manner that it makes your heart swell. Bradley wraps an arm around you and pulls you close after a few minutes and the two of you bask in the silence.

"I've met them." You say after a few long minutes. "What?" Bradley whispers as he looks down at you.

"I've met them. In the Underworld. The day your mother passed. I was in the Underworld trying to figure out a way to stay. She walked into Paradise asking about "her Goose." I thought she was talking about a pet until she explained that Goose was he husband's call sign. I got to see them reunite. It was— beautiful." You say to him.

"So they really are together. You meant it when you said that at Aunt Marsha's house?" Bradley tears up.

"They are together and happy and still in love. I'm sure you've heard this before, but you really do look so much like your father." You say as you cup his cheek. Your thumb brushes away some of his tears.

"I'm sorry I never told you before." You apologize. "It's okay. I understand why you didn't." Bradley says as he places his hand over yours. "I'm also sorry that I can't take you there to see them. If I was stronger—if I had my full powers—I could." You sigh, angry at yourself.

"It's okay, Angel. I know you could if you would." He whispers before kissing your forehead and pulling you in for a hug. The two of you stand there for a moment before you ask Bradley the question that's been on your mind. "Bradley, where do you want to be buried?"

He pulls back and thinks for a moment. "I never really thought about it. I always figured I'd either burn in, and there wouldn't be anything left of me or that I'd die alone and get boxed up and put in some military graveyard. But I think— I think I'd like to be buried here, with my parents. I'd like to have this view forever." He says as the two of you watch the hues of red and orange paint the evening sky.

"I think I can make sure that happens. Right here is going to be the perfect spot to spend eternity with you." You say. Bradley shakes his head. He doesn't say it, but he knows that he's going to die before you. But you've already promised him that you won't let him go without you. He just hopes you're both old and have lived a full life with that happens.

The two of you say goodbye to Goose and Carole with a promise to visit again soon before leaving.

Your flight home the next day is uneventful.

It's mid afternoon by the time you make it back. The two of you Uber back to your apartment before going to pick up Cerby and Hydra from Mav and Penny. You insist on driving to go get them. Bradley makes a fuss about it but ultimately gives in and hands you your keys.

"Angel, this isn't the way to Mav and Penny's." Bradley remarks as you make a turn. "I know." You hum back. You drive for a few more minutes before you pull into your final destination.

"Honey, who's house is this?" Bradley asks you as you pull in the driveway. "It's for sale. Let's go take a look." You say before hoping out of the car and bounding up the steps to the front door.

"Angel—baby—Hades, wait! We can't just go in a house that's for sale. We don't know if someone might be here!" Bradley scolds you as he follows you up the steps.

"No one is home, and we can go in if we have the key." You reply as you hold up the shiny piece of metal before unlocking the door. "How did you get that?" Bradley interrogates you as you step inside. "I have my ways." You laugh. "C'mon, Bradley, look around with me. Don't be such a kill joy." You tease him as you begin to flit throughout the space.

The bay windows along the back wall let in tons of natural like, and the floor plan is open concept with the kitchen, living room, and dining room flowing into one another. Gorgeous amber colored hardwoods run throughout the house and there is a fireplace along one wall.

The kitchen has beautiful light grey cabinets with white counter tops, and all the appliances are stainless steel. Bradley follows you up the stairs as he takes in all of the bedrooms before you lead him downstairs to the back patio and outdoor kitchen and the pool.

"Isn't this place amazing, Love?" You say to him with starry eyes.

"It's great, but—"He says hesitantly. "But what?" You ask him as you wrap your arms around his middle. "This is an expensive neighborhood and I know that you have money—"

"We have money." You correct him.

"We have money." He sighs. "But I don't want to spend so much of it. You earned that, and it's not fair."

You chuckle. "Bradley, I can't take it with me. And I've never had a reason to have a house until now. I mean, think about it. The yard would be perfect for Cerby and later on some kids. I mean, this would be the perfect home to raise our family in. You could teach them to swim in that pool while I make snacks in the outdoor kitchen. We could have our friends over. Heck, your aunt and uncle and cousins could come visit us. This place would be the perfect home for us!" You try to reason with him.

"I guess you're right. A place like this would be perfect for us to have a family. I guess we could talk to a realtor." Bradley laughs as the thought of you standing in the kitchen round and pregnant with his child while a toddler is running around the back yard with him creeps into his mind.

"We don't have to talk to a realtor, Bradley." You tell him. "I'm pretty sure we do, honey." Bradley chuckles.

"I'm pretty sure we don't. When we pulled up, you asked me whose house this was. Well, it's our house, Bradley. Welcome home." You say as you take a step back and dangle a key in front of him.

"You—you bought us a house? When? How?" He stammers, taking in your words. "The morning we left for Virginia. You'd be amazed what you can get done for the right amount of money.

"So you, you own this?" Bradley sweeps his hand around.

"We own this." You smile.

Bradley is silent for a moment before he picks you up and spins you around and carries you out the front door and onto the porch.

"Bradley? What are you doing?" You laugh. "I'm supposed to carry you across the threshold. It's tradition." He says with a matter of fact tone before doing just that. You break out into a fit of giggles as he sets you down and starts going through your home in earnest.

.................

Two weeks later, the two of you are all moved in. Your furniture fills the room, your photos and decor fill the walls and shelves. Your dishes sit in the cabinets, and Hydra and Cerberus have settled in nicely.

You've just come out of your huge new shower and are doing your nighttime routine when you notice a bruise from when you hit the corner of the kitchen island when making dinner, but you shake it off. As you apply some lotion, you notice the small scar on your hand from the mug you broke in Virginia.

When you go to inspect it further, you suddenly realize just how tired you are as you let out a yawn. You don't dwell on it because Bradley is calling you to come to bed, and the idea of being wrapped up in his big strong arms is the only thing you can be bothered to think of right now.

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[deliciousangelfestival]

The Pearl's Secret - Bucky Barnes

Character: Bucky x female!reader

Summary: After a traumatic night at the Celine Mansion, young Bucky grows up to hunt stolen art tied to his past. His investigation leads him to a high-stakes auction, where a dramatic theft uncovers new clues. A chance encounter in a park propels him closer to unraveling long-hidden secrets.

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Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

It was the coldest day Bucky could remember. Heavy rain lashed against the windows, the wind howled through the cracks, and darkness enveloped everything outside. He couldn't believe how the warmest place he'd ever known could turn into something so bleak and terrifying.

Ten-year-old Bucky hid inside the fireplace, tucked tightly into the small space. He hadn't known about this hiding spot until the owner, Mrs. Celine, had shoved him in there. "Don't come out until I say so," she had whispered urgently, her voice quivering with fear.

Despite her own terror, she had saved him from the intruders, protecting him as if he were her own, even though he was just an orphan—a nobody. She looked different now, her face pale and eyes wide, unlike the calm and gentle woman he used to know.

"Where is Y/N?" Bucky asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"She's safe," Mrs. Celine replied, her hands trembling as she grabbed a long sword from a knight sculpture standing near the fireplace. She paused for a moment, then looked back at him with a fierce determination in her eyes.

“Can I ask you for a favor?” she said, her voice steadier now, though still edged with fear.

“Yeah?” Bucky replied, his small hands gripping his knees tightly, trying to make himself as small as possible in the cramped space.

“Protect my daughter,” she said, her eyes locking onto his with an intensity that made him shiver more than the cold. With those words, Martha turned and rushed out of the room, leaving Bucky alone in the shadows.

Today was supposed to be a day of celebration. Every year, the Celine mansion hosted an Easter event for the local children and those from the orphanage.

The owner, Antoine Celine, a French aristocrat, and his wife, Martha, an American socialite, were known for their generosity. They were wealthy and loved to do philanthropic work. Every holiday, the Celine mansion was filled with laughter, food, and games, and the children always went home with gifts.

The reason the Celines opened their home was for their only daughter, Y/N. Bucky had heard from the older kids that she was too weak to play outside or go to school. Her parents invited other children to the mansion to ensure she had friends and didn't feel isolated.

The first time Bucky met Y/N was when he was trying to catch a white cat, which had climbed up a tree. He looked up to see a girl dressed in fine, porcelain-doll-like clothing with the cat nestled comfortably in her lap.

“She’s afraid of strangers,” the girl said, her voice soft yet confident, as she jumped down from the tree with surprising grace.

Bucky stared at her, quickly noticing how different she seemed from the other kids. "Are you the owner of this house?"

"Yes," you answered simply, a small smile playing on your lips.

"They said you're weak, but you could climb and jump from the tree. I couldn't do that," Bucky said, his tone filled with a mix of curiosity and admiration.

Hearing his words, you extended your hand to him. "Let me show you. It's not difficult."

From that moment on, Bucky and you grew closer. You would call for him, and he would come to the mansion, welcomed with open arms by your parents, who were thrilled to see their daughter finally making friends.

While playing at the mansion, often playing hide and seek with you, Bucky would explore every corner. The place was filled with paintings, artifacts, and old weapons—like a treasure trove. One room that particularly caught his interest was a gallery with three large paintings, each depicting a woman wearing pearl accessories. He wondered what the Celines had done to accumulate such wealth.

But perhaps it was this very fortune that brought about the tragic events of that day. After most of the children had gone home and only he remained to play with you, the lights suddenly went out. Darkness fell, and chaos erupted. Intruders burst through the windows. Antoine, your father, was quick to act, ushering everyone to safety.

You were panicking, struggling to breathe. Bucky helped you use your inhaler, his hands shaking as he held it to your lips. Your body was weak because of your asthma, and you were clearly frightened.

“Bernard, take Y/N to the safest place,” Martha ordered, handing you to the elderly butler. Bernard quickly scooped you up, moving as fast as his old legs could carry him.

Then, a scream pierced the air. Everyone froze, terror written across their faces. Martha's eyes widened with fear; she knew that voice—it was her husband.

"Go!" she yelled at Bucky, dragging him towards the fireplace. "Hide, and don't come out, no matter what you hear."

Bucky nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. He squeezed into the fireplace and tried to control his breathing, making himself as quiet as possible. He stayed there, trembling, until he heard the distant wail of police sirens.

Finally, he crawled out, his legs numb and unsteady. A policeman he recognized, Jack, was standing in the foyer, looking around with a grim expression.

“Bucky?” Jack said softly when he saw him, quickly taking off his jacket and draping it over the boy's shoulders.

“Where are Mr. and Mrs. Celine? Where are Y/N and Bernard?” Bucky's voice was a mixture of fear and desperation.

Jack sighed, hesitating for a moment before replying. "I'll tell you when the time is right. For now, you should go home."

“But where is Y/N?” Bucky insisted, his eyes searching Jack’s for any hint of reassurance.

“She’s not here,” Jack said quietly, avoiding his gaze.

The next day, Bucky learned the truth: there had been a burglary at the Celine mansion, and a murder had taken place. Your whereabouts, along with Bernard’s, remained unknown. He also found out that the stolen items were the three paintings of the women with pearls.

Bucky realized, as he stood outside the now-empty mansion, that he was still just a kid who couldn’t do anything to help that night. From that day on, he vowed to become a police officer so he would never be helpless again.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

15 Years Later

Bucky had made it his mission to find you and Bernard. Growing up, he had followed the news of the Celine Mansion murder closely. The case had garnered international attention, primarily due to the mansion's extensive art collection. Despite the media frenzy, the three paintings of women adorned with pearls—the ones that had captivated him as a child—were never mentioned among the stolen artworks.

Determined to uncover the truth, Bucky joined the White Collar Crime Unit, specializing in art theft. He hoped that recovering the stolen art from the Celine Mansion might also lead him to you and Bernard.

He felt a deep sense of obligation to the Celines; their charity had provided him with an opportunity to attend college, and he was driven to repay their kindness.

In his office, Bucky was a whirlwind of focused energy. His desk was cluttered with files, photographs of artworks, and leads on various stolen pieces. His eyes, sharp and intense, scanned documents and screen after screen, piecing together clues with relentless dedication.

His fingers tapped rhythmically on the keyboard as he pulled up images of art pieces and cross-referenced them with the stolen inventory.

Most of the time, Bucky encountered counterfeit artworks. When a seller insisted that a piece was authentic, Bucky’s expression turned skeptical. His jaw tightened, and his brow furrowed with irritation as he examined the so-called masterpiece, especially when it's related to Celine.

“This is fake,” Bucky said decisively, his voice steady and unwavering as he handed the appraisal report back to the seller.

The seller, visibly uncomfortable, stammered, “But how can you be so sure?”

Bucky’s lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. 'Because when we were kids, we have our own little marks on those paintings and artworks. Little signs only we knew about,' he thought.

He glanced down at the art piece, his eyes narrowing in recognition. “And this,” he said, pointing to a specific detail on the painting, “is not one of them. It’s fake.”

Bucky’s confidence came from the mischievous games you used to play together, where you both secretly marked the paintings with tiny, almost imperceptible symbols—proof of authenticity known only to the two of you. Those childhood secrets now served as his key to identifying the genuine articles from the forgeries.

🥀🥀🥀🥀

Back at the office, Bucky was engrossed in his work, his eyes scanning through a new batch of leads when a snippet of conversation from a nearby cubicle caught his attention. He leaned closer, straining to hear the details of the conversation between two colleagues.

“…I heard from my informant that there’s going to be a big auction soon,” one of them said, a hint of excitement in their voice. “Apparently, a major painting is going to be featured—one of a woman wearing a pearl necklace.”

The mention of the pearl necklace made Bucky's heart skip a beat. He straightened in his chair, his pulse quickening. The painting described matched the ones he had been searching for, the very ones that had been stolen from the Celine Mansion.

He immediately reached for his phone, dialing his friend and fellow investigator, Mark. As the phone rang, Bucky’s fingers drummed impatiently on his desk, his mind racing with possibilities.

“Mark, it’s Bucky,” he said as soon as his friend answered. “I need you to pull some strings for me. There’s an auction coming up, and I need to attend it. It’s about a painting with a woman wearing a pearl necklace.”

Mark’s voice crackled through the phone, a mix of curiosity and concern. “Are you sure it’s one of the Celine paintings?”

“I’m positive,” Bucky replied, his voice steady but filled with urgency.

There was a brief pause on the line before Mark responded. “Alright, I’ll see what I can do."

Bucky hung up, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this auction was more than just an opportunity—it was a chance to finally uncover the truth and perhaps, after all these years, find the answers he had been longing for.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

The auction hall buzzed with excitement. Guests in sleek, tailored suits and elegant evening gowns filled the room, each one wearing a mask to maintain anonymity. The atmosphere was electric, charged with anticipation and whispers of the extraordinary painting set to be revealed.

Bucky, his own mask fitted securely, scanned the crowd. The guests chatted animatedly, their voices rising in a cacophony of admiration and speculation. The painting, a masterpiece by a renowned artist, was highly coveted due to its association with the Celine family. The prospect of owning it was thrilling, especially given the painting’s rumored price.

“Did you hear? It’s supposed to be worth a fortune!” one guest exclaimed, adjusting his mask with a gleeful grin.

“Absolutely,” replied another, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “It’s related to the Celine collection, and with the owner’s death, the value has skyrocketed. It’s going to be a high bid for sure.”

Bucky could barely contain his frustration. The chatter was deafening, but he needed to stay focused. He knew that the value of the painting had increased significantly because of its connection to the Celine family’s tragic fate.

Finally, the auctioneer, a distinguished figure in a sharp suit, stepped up to the podium. He raised his hand to silence the crowd, his voice commanding attention.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, “it’s time for the highlight of tonight’s auction. We are pleased to present an extraordinary painting, a masterpiece that has captivated collectors and historians alike.”

The room fell silent, the air thick with anticipation. The auctioneer pulled away the cover, revealing the large painting. Bucky’s breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight.

The painting depicted a woman adorned with a pearl necklace. But what struck Bucky most was a single pearl that was a deep, unmistakable red. It was unmistakably one of the paintings created by you—its distinct mark making it immediately recognizable.

His shock was palpable. The painting was genuine. The mark of the red pearl was a detail only you would have included, a personal touch from his childhood friend.

Suddenly, the lights went out, plunging the room into darkness. The sound of gasps and frantic murmurs filled the air as guests scrambled in confusion. Bucky’s heart raced; he struggled to make sense of the chaos around him.

When the lights flickered back on, the painting was gone. A wave of panic swept through the crowd. The auction hall erupted into chaos as guests shouted and tried to make sense of the theft.

Bucky sprang into action, pushing through the crowd. He searched desperately for any sign of the painting or the thief. Amidst the confusion, he spotted a figure in a full-face mask moving swiftly towards the exit. Without hesitation, he pursued her.

The confrontation was fierce. Bucky tried to grapple with the masked woman, but she was swift and skilled. Before he could gain the upper hand, another masked figure appeared, and together they overpowered him. Bucky was forced to retreat, bruised and breathless, as the thieves escaped into the night.

The next morning, the news headlines were dominated by the heist. The stolen painting was a major story, but for Bucky, it was a clue that brought him one step closer to finding you.

Sitting in a park, Bucky sipped his coffee, the warm cup a comfort against the chill in the air. The stolen painting felt like a breakthrough, bringing him one step closer to unraveling the mystery he had been chasing for years.

The scene was peaceful, a stark contrast to the chaos of the previous night. He was lost in thought when he saw a person with a yellow umbrella approaching. The umbrella’s bright color was a stark contrast to the grey sky, catching his attention.

As the figure stopped in front of him, the voice that came under the yellow umbrella was heavy but familiar. “You want to climb the tree?”

It was like a thunderclap in his ear. The voice was the same as it had been fifteen years ago. Bucky looked up, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw you standing there, grown up and with a knowing smile.

“Hi. It’s been a long time,” you said, your eyes shining with recognition.

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Author's Note: Hey everyone, I’d love to hear your thoughts on this! I’m currently grappling with a writer’s block and have tried various methods to spark new ideas, but nothing seems to be working.

Any feedback or suggestions you have would be greatly appreciated. Thanks for your support!

[starry-blue-echoes]

Okay I had a THOUGHT about Early Bird. Or specifically, what happens after it.

Because Diavolo's still out there, still has his stand arrow/s. And Giorno either doesn't exist, or he's much older than in canon. Possibly even in a position where he can be much more effective in either combatting or infiltrating Passione.

Basically what I'm trying to say is 20-something Giorno Giovanna kinda taking Bucciarati's role as inspirational surrogate parent.

ailing you managed to rummage around my brain and pull out an idea I thought I'd forgotten about

so doing the math, Jotaro would be around 31 in Canon Part 5, and he was 6 in Early Bird Part 3. Giorno was born about 3 years before Canon Part 3, which if we have that be the same here leads to a....... shockingly only 3 year age gap

now, of course there's also room to mess around with when Part 5 happens since if you wanna get really technical, Dio wouldn't have been able to be given the arrows by Enyaba since she wouldn't have been able to buy them off Doppio at this time, but that's a little too gritty for me so let's just shuffle things around instead and just say it all works out by shoving Doppio's trip back a few years

anyways back with Giorno, an old idea I had more or less has Giorno...... with the kiddos as well. I KNOW, THIS IS TECHNICALLY A PRETTY LATE ADDITION TO THE AU BUT HEAR ME OUT:

Dio of course has Jotaro already planned out to be his successor. There's a whole multilayered scheme going on here with loads of irony and revenge and what not, and he doesn't want to give that up. It's just too perfect.

However, Dio has also learned from his mistakes and knows he shouldn't put all his eggs in one basket. After all, given the fact he doesn't have Pucci this time, he is currently without a back up plan

enter: one Haruno Shiobana

this is also where Dio's interactions with the kids get more....... complicated. Because Haruno is the spare so to speak........ but at the same time he's pretty well cared for. Arguably better than the other kids, simply because of the fact he's new. Unlike the other kids, he doesn't need to be convinced of anything. This life and Dio is all he's known, he doesn't need to worry about Haruno trying to escape since....... well, why would he try

not to mention, Haruno's too young to participate in any kind of training, and again he's the spare. He shouldn't have to be trained since if everything goes to plan, he won't be needed as a successor. Maybe he could be a powerful underling one day if his Stand is strong enough, but Jotaro is supposed to be the future leader.

so honestly....... Jotaro's the only one who ever actually interacted with Giorno. He's kept separate from most of the other kids, but of course Dio wanted his heir to meet his possible second. And their interactions were about as interesting as a 3 year old and an ill 6 year old could be.

(who knows, maybe Haruno's mother is here as well? Of course, this does raise the question of whether or not she'd take Haruno with her when she inevitably flees the mansion, but for the sake of the AU let's say she does)

but when they're free.......... this is when things get a bit fun :)

because well....... given their ages, the two honestly don't remember each other super well. Haruno hardly remembers any of his time in the mansion at all, and Jotaro's memories are foggy from time and sickness. Kakyoin might know of Haruno's existence from their talks, but admittedly the toddler's importance wasn't NEARLY as much in his mind as compared to being rescued and getting Jotaro to a hospital

by the time Kakyoin's able to tell Holly and Joseph, Haruno's long gone

Italy I'd imagine isn't too different. Sure there's of course the differing dynamics between Giorno and the team given the fact he's 28 (and now the oldest member of the team by a landslide, Abbacchio being the closest at 21) but plot wise? There's definitely the question of do we play it straight or get creative with it which........ okay let's be real we're most likely gonna go the creative route jrdbvjdrbvs

I'm definitely very interested in how Koichi little quest goes down and how Giorno will deal with his chasing, and ofc how Jotaro will fall into things here

Polnareff definitely will make things interesting, since he's of course very related to Events All Those Years Ago and would likely be aware of the fact that Dio son who went missing that fateful night

there's a lot of room to Get Funky With It :)

also I'm just. Rotating Jotaro and Giorno's childhoods. How the mansion was the best and safest Giorno had ever been, and had he grown up there he honestly probably wouldn't have had that bad of a life, at least in comparison to his mother's neglect and step-father's abuse.

but that being in stark contrast to Jotaro's own experience. How the mansion was literal hell. How he was stolen away from his life and family and very nearly died, scared and alone.

how Dio managed to be Giorno's savior and Jotaro's nightmare

how Holly's rescue was Jotaro's saving grace and the thing that shattered any hope of Giorno's good future

how these two are family, both by blood and by the man who attempted to raise and shape them