#This is why I write one shots

[elegant-fleuret]

Me: *10,000 words deep into the first chapter of my smut fic, still haven't gotten to the smut and feeling insecure*

Babbo: no one is going to read your fic for the plot, they just want to fuck the raccoon

[baeshijima]

thoughts on being engaged to duke!sunday, the head of the oak family, an incredibly influential figurehead within society, the close subordinate of emperor gopher wood who brought him and his sister in and raised him like his own, and the villain who faces a tragic ending in a novel you recently finished — the very same one you just so happen to find yourself transmigrated into. he is as cunning as he is blinded, a trait which brought ruin to many in the empire, and one which ultimately brought ruin to himself at the hands of the protagonists.

as luck would have it, you became a barely mentioned side character from a marquis family, whose role was to be the villain's wife stuck in a one-sided love who, too, would get caught up in the tragedy alongside him. however, now that it's you who is stuck in this position, you're determined to try any means necessary to deter him from going down that path, all in an effort to escape your predestined doomed fate!

of course, you didn't expect it to be easy. the day of your arrival in this world was already the night before your wedding, so you had little time to prepare yourself for the nonchalance of your supposed family, how they viewed you as but a means — a tool — to boost their influence and prosperity, the dismissive mannerisms of the household servants, and the absolute beauty of a man you will be married to.

(seriously. the novel descriptions did not do him justice. he was like... like... like he was handcrafted by god himself! and not to mention his sister, robin, was the very epitome of an angel! perhaps you're destined to perish by the god-tier visuals instead...)

to say the least, the wedding ceremony went by quickly. safe to say you didn't spend the night; he was cordial and gentlemanly upon letting you know that he won't do anything until you're ready, that you can take this relationship slow, but somehow you ended up feeling a tad insulted. like, who leaves their newly wedded alone in a big cold bed as they walk out on their own? a sick bastard that's who!

well, whatever. it's not like you need nor want to consummate with him! besides, you have bigger things to worry about — things such as your impending death. and, of course, the only way to stop sunday that you can imagine working is by chipping away at his resolve bit by bit, and opening his eyes to reality.

he is a tragic character, one who cares more about the well-being of penacony and its people than anyone else, but was manipulated into getting his hands dirty in the emperor's stead. you knew this. you sobbed over his story, cursed out the protagonists, and even fought internet randos on novel forums about sunday's motivation and how,

no, he is not just a stupid villain. he is a complex character with flaws and humanity and was cruelly taken advantage of by someone he considered family. he was deceived through the suffering the emperor wanted him to see to make him easily manipulated, creating a rift between him and robin to have that prominent separation. you know what? maybe you're just a !%#@ who can't even #@?"% read properly!

and yet you still find yourself at a loss when faced with the walls he has in place. your initial efforts went as well as it possibly could have; you trying to earnestly help him, while he "kindly" dismisses your offers! well, "kindly" being more condescending since you could read between the lines of his mannerisms and amiable demeanour, but that's fine! you expected this! that just means you have to double down on your sincerity, get through to his heart (somehow), and help him realise humanity isn't as weak as he's led to believe!

you have three years until the novel's plot officially starts, and another year after that until your demise. that's plenty of time to get him to warm up to you!

it was easier said than done, but after your valiant effort and abundance of time put into this relationship, which admittedly you could do with some of that lost time back, you could give yourself a pat on the back with the progress you made! while you definitely could have done without a lot of the headaches, it's safe to say sunday has significantly warmed up to you in comparison to your wedding day. he now willingly eats all his meals with you with some real conversation, takes garden strolls with you in the early evenings, invites you out for dinner at a restaurant at least four times a week, hell he's even joked and laughed with you more frequently! but most importantly, he has begun asking for your opinion before finalising any decisions he is required to make. and he actually listens and considers your side! now, that certainly is the best outcome you could hope for after all this time, and it most definitely will help in your endeavour to save you both from the protagonists!

however, you've noticed he's been more... affectionate? well, at the very least he now willingly holds your hand when in private (not just in moments when you're in the public eye and he has to make sure the family's reputation is spotless), sometimes he will hug you out of the blue ("i just need to... recharge. you have a way of calming me down. i hope you don't mind." ...how could you say no to his supreme god-tier face card? that's just a losing battle you won't even bother fighting against.), oftentimes he opts to just gaze wordlessly at you (robin had mentioned over one of your tea times how it almost appears as though there is no one but you in the world when sunday gazes at you with, in her words, "the eyes of a man so deeply in love!" ...whatever that's supposed to mean...), but a more recent development has been his sudden interest in kissing you; well, more specifically giving you a kiss to the back of your hand or on your forehead — certainly not anywhere near the lips! (besides, he's probably just gotten comfortable with you, enough where he can freely act without judgement. nothing more, nothing less.)

well, either way, development is development! soon enough, the time for the main plot to start has arrived. it of course follows what you remember, from the organised balls to the protagonists meeting to the political aspects of it all. the only difference is sunday's less active involvement in all the schemes and the emperor's ploy. rather, he seems more focused on you and the future of your marriage and even displayed a sudden interest in your practically non-existent relationship with one of the foreign diplomats, aventurine— wait...

"[name]," he calls your name out so sweetly you nearly disregarded it as someone else he was talking to. well, perhaps you would have done had he not suddenly appeared before you, a tight-lipped smile tugging the corners of his lips as he steadily approaches you.

oh. he doesn't seem very happy, if his tense figure is anything to go by. you wonder if one of the nobles grated his nerves a little too much this time?

sunday comes to a halt a step away from you. "i don't like that... gambler being so close to you. it... it brings me a rather unpleasant feeling." there's a slight, trembling pause. not a moment later does he close the gap between you, one knee on the ground as he matches your seated height on the fountain rim, your hands gently enclosed in both of his.

you idly wonder if this is what robin meant by the so-called "eyes of a man so deeply in love" she constantly gushed about, for the way in which he gazes up at you is enough to render you breathless.

"tell me, [name]," he begins once more. there is an underlying desperation woven within his tone, one which has your head spinning and heart thumping wildly as his trembling gaze holds you in place. "tell me, what am i to do with this fervent love and overwhelming adoration i hold for you?"

oh.

...oh.

perhaps your impending doom should be the least of your concerns when you now find yourself in the arms of a clingy husband...

(though, it's safe to say you did, in fact, manage to prevent him from succumbing to his tragic fate! you just gained a loving, yet slight slightly emotionally challenged husband along the way.

well, you can help him work through it; you have the rest of your lives now to figure it out, after all.)

[stealingyourbones]

Out of all of the people The Ghost King Phantom expected to relate to, it definitely wasn’t the scrawny red headed photographer of the Daily Planet. Jimmy Olsen has gotten so many temporary superpowers over his time being Superman’s friend. Hell, he once gained a 4th dimensional being’s reality warping abilities when he was given said dimensional being’s powers during a fight. Sure there’s a dozen or so heroes with the same amount of powers he has, but none as suddenly granted to them as a all powerful god that can relate to a teenager.

[lomltrentarnold]

he is your best friend… — jude bellingham₊˚ෆ

🍓 hana’s notes: hi babies 🫂 this is very sudden but i just felt like writing, i am so rusty but i have more time bc my exams are over so i will try to write more for us hihi

🌟main masterlist!

jude is just your best friend so he always texts you. after he leaves his practice, when his mom cooks amazing dinner, even when he works out. he also texts you every single time he sees the moon. telling you he’s reminded of you.

jude is just your best friend so of course your families know each other. his mother loves you and the family teases that you and jude would be the perfect couple.

jude is just your best friend so he knows all of your favourites. he knows you like chocolate, the colour purple, your coffee order and apple flavoured candy. he also has all of this written in his notepad on his phone.

jude is just your best friend so he admires you with his whole being. you're a good person, you have his back no matter what and call him out when he's being an asshole. you keep him in check.

jude is just your best friend but he always stays over. even though he has a mansion for a house, he always finds a way to sleepover at yours. he cuddles you until he sleeps and leave a forehead kiss when you're dozing off.

jude is just your best friend but he always feels butterflies around you. he thinks its normal because you have always been pretty. it's normal for him to think that you are the most breathtaking person he has ever laid his eyes on...right?

jude is just your best friend but always insisted on you wearing his jersey at his games. he is loud and proud when you're cheering for him,

jude is just your best friend but he always flexes his muscles just to get your attention. it started off as a joke but when he noticed how long you would stare at his biceps, he couldn't help himself.

jude is just your best friend but he likes to rest his hands around your hips and snuggle his nose in the crook of your and he says that its just because you always smell good.

jude is just your best friend but he stares at you a lot. from your eyes to your lips. he swears it's on accident. but sometimes when you ramble, he just wants to pull you in by your neck and kiss you dizzy.

jude is just your best friend but he doesn't like it when guys flirt with you. he said that its just because he's protective and doesn't want anything bad happening to you. but he can't help the gnawing feeling wrapping around his heart when you flirt with them back.

jude is just your best friend but you still feel jealous when girls fall to his feet. he is jude bellingham, the football star, golden boy, everyone either wants to be him or be with him.

jude is just your best friend but he wishes to wake up by your side and make you breakfast every morning.

jude is just your best friend but everyone says that you guys are a perfect couple.

jude is just your best friend but thinks you and him work perfectly together.

jude is just your best friend but he can imagine spending the rest of his life by your side.

jude is just your best friend but you want him to be yours and yours only.

jude is just your best friend and he wishes he can be more.

reblog for a kiss!

[corrodedcoughin]

eddie going in to scoops ahoy dressed as a pirate and saying he’s here to ‘plunder scoops’ treasure chest of ice cream yarhar’ only he gets to the counter and it’s Steve serving, not Robin. He was expecting Robin. What comes out of his mouth is ‘I’m here for your pleasure chest’. Cue eddie turning on his heel, walking out of scoops and sitting himself down in the fountain of the food court, hugging his knees while the corroded coffin boys throw pennies at him.

[geraskierfanficprompts]

When Jaskier's angry or upset, it's always "Don't touch me!" "Get away!" "Hands off!" And then the bard will be gone for hours or days until he calms down.

Now, Geralt understands this kind of reaction. He himself doesn't want to talk to/be around others when he's angry. Much less let anyone touch him. The thing is...Jaskier acting that way never fails to make Geralt feel like shit. Jaskier is usually so affectionate that the sudden cut off is jarring. The first few times it happened, Geralt had been sure that Jaskier was fed up with him and leaving for good.

However, Jaskier always returns. They make amends, and the bard resumes his touchy, affectionate ways.

One day though, they have their worst argument yet. And although he had always come back before, Geralt is certain that this is the time Jaskier will leave forever. If Jaskier walks out that door, Geralt is sure he will never see him again.

So, unthinkingly, Geralt catches the bard's wrist.

Jaskier's eyes widen, panic replaces anger. "Geralt! Let me go! Let me go right now!"

Geralt loosens his grip reflexively in response to Jaskier's panic. Did the bard think the witcher would force him to stay?

He opens his mouth to try to explain.

Only, the world is...spinning? And Geralt's tongue is heavy. And everything is warm. Oh, he feels like he’s going to hurl.

Then, he passes out.

An unknown amount of time later, Geralt wakes. He feels kind of hungover but is otherwise fine. To his relief, Jaskier is sitting at his bedside.

When the bard notices Geralt is awake, he inquires after his health. At Geralt's reassurance that he is fine, Jaskier launched into a tirade about the number of times he had told Geralt "NOT TO TOUCH ME WHEN I’M MAD! AND THAT INCLUDES RIGHT NOW, YOU SCARED ME HALF TO DEATH, YOU BASTARD!!!"

Geralt is a bit confused about how Jaskier being mad and his fainting spell are connected.

Two things are revealed:

1) Jaskier is part fae.

2) Some fae become toxic to touch when they are angry or upset. It is a magical trait, so it fades when the anger does. However, it can still be deadly.

This puts some things into perspective. Like how Jaskier, who seems to feel entitled to his emotions/reactions no matter how inappropriate they may be, is very skilled at cooling his temper. Or how, when he does become angry, he chooses verbal slander over physical violence. Or how when there IS a physical fight Jaskier wraps his hands in cloth and tries to use blunt instruments.

Bonus: Geralt tells all of the witchers not to touch Jaskier when he's mad, and Lambert takes that as a challenge.

I LOVE THIS!!!!!! OH MY GOODDDDDD!!! You take the things we spoke about and add onto it like putting glitter on a macaroni art craft, it's beautiful, It's so beautiful, oh my god! Poor Geralt thought his bard was leaving and poor Jaskier has to watch his stupid idiot Witcher touch him, gAH I love it! I want to read a 5k oneshot about it

[whinesandwhimpers]

gaz spanking you while scolding you for being a brat, making you promise to be a good girl, all with that smooth fucking voice UGHHH

[bright-and-burning]

omg these words are delicious, "shimmer" or "something about them"?

i picked shimmer!! enjoy ~670 words of halloween party landoscar + background goofy ass roommate hijinks :)

send me a number and i’ll write a micro story

“Where’s Lando?”

“In the kitchen, I believe,” George says, not even looking at Oscar. “Charles! Put the glitter down!”

Oscar ducks under where Alex is teetering on a dining chair hanging strands of paper bats. Oscar’s job comes later: he gets to deep clean the house tomorrow morning, after everyone’s left.

“Charles! Glitter down now!”

Given the muffled shouting coming from the living room, he lucked out.

The kitchen is quieter. Lit mostly with fairy lights, music playing quietly from Lando’s phone as he dances around the room, pulling a tray of jello shots out of the fridge.

“Nice costume.”

Lando spins, hand clutched to his chest.

“Fucking hell, Oscar.”

It is a nice costume. Eye catching, certainly, with the bunny ears rising half a foot out of his curls.

“Couldn’t commit to the full look?” Like Oscar can talk. He’s wearing a Patty Mills jersey and jeans.

“Had to put on shorts, the leotard was gonna get me arrested,” Lando explains, smile more than a little mischievous. He turns back around. Oscar leans back against the counter, pretending not to watch Lando’s ass in his tiny adidas shorts.

“Shots?”

“Sorry?”

Lando’s close; Oscar must’ve spaced out, listening to him sing as he made whatever concoction they’ll be drinking tonight.

“Shots, Oscar. Bit of liquor in a little glass? Taken in one go?”

Lando’s eyes are dancing. Oscar mock-scowls at him.

“I know what a shot is, Lando.”

“Good! Then you can take one with me.”

He’s smiling, lime wedges and salt shaker in hand. Already knew he’d convince him, the fucker.

Oscar sighs and shrugs. Tequila can’t make things worse.

Lando takes his hand. Oscar’s not prepared for him to lean down and lick it for him. Not even a little. His breath catches.

There’s some kind of shimmer on Lando’s eyelids, more than normal. Entrancing in the warm kitchen light. He adds salt before straightening, bunny ears brushing Oscar’s face on his way up.

Lando lets go of his hand, making quick work of his own.

Oscar’s still feeling a little out of breath when Lando hands him a shot glass.

“To a good party,” he says. There’s a crash from the living room, followed by a shriek.

“To nobody breaking our shit,” Oscar adds.

They clink glasses; Lando holds eye contact as they lick up their lines of salt.

Oscar’s gonna choke on his shot if he’s not careful. He tips his head back to take it, already reaching blindly for the lime wedge.

Lando shudders next to him, lime between his teeth. “Jesus Christ, we have got to up our tequila budget. That’s horrific.”

Oscar laughs, folding a little with the force of it. When he straightens back up, Lando’s got an odd look on his face. Oscar makes a questioning noise.

Lando seems to make a decision, lips thinning for a moment. He crowds Oscar against the counter, hands planted on either side of his body, body heat searing through the jersey where his arms brush against Oscar’s ribs. Oscar’s heart rate has skyrocketed.

“Happy Halloween, Osc,” Lando says, leaning close.

Oscar leans in, slow.

“Happy Halloween.”

The door slams open. Oscar jumps, hip slamming into the lip of the counter. That’s going to bruise. Lando’s arms tighten, wrapping around Oscar’s waist.

It’s Charles, bottle of glitter clutched tight to his chest. He holds a finger up to his lips, and darts down the hall.

“Charles!!!”

Oscar turns back to Lando, lips twitching with the effort not to laugh. They make eye contact, and immediately burst into giggles.

Lando leans in, pressing a kiss to Oscar’s cheek, before disentangling from him.

“Well,” Lando sighs. “Duty calls.”

“I thought you were on drinks?”

“I am.”

Oscar squints at him.

“Forcing George to taste-test the jello shots until he forgets about his war against glitter is a very important part of drinks duty, I’ll have you know.”

Lando grabs the tray.

“Find me later?” He asks over his shoulder, already half out of the kitchen.

Oscar nods.

“I’ll find you.”

[pastelaspirations]

I’ll never forget you babes 😭💔😔🥺

I finally come back to tumblr and t h i s is what I see. That's it, I'm done, I'm uninstalling tumblr. Bye everyone, it's Honey's fault-

[hanzajesthanza]

(Adam Dudaczyk) The fact that vampires drink blood to get that *meaningful hand-neck gesture* - you made that up? (Andrzej Sapkowski) Yes, I didn't model myself on anyone here, I don't know anyone who wrote before me about the fact that vampires drink blood not to satisfy their hunger, but to satisfy their thirst for… entertainment. Texts: the guys sent me to get blood, I was flying drunk… The fun was great.

as i reread this i couldn't stop thinking of this meme

[leoisstillalive]

>800 word intro to a fic im writing. it's completely unedited and unbeta read and is also just kind of me playing with uccio and vale like ken dolls. i have never uploaded a draft like this before so be gentle on me.

Valentino nursed himself on the porcelain coffee mug, mouth running along the hot lip of it, hands shifting around and around until they reached the handle once more.

“Long night?” Uccio quirked his lips as he plopped down in the seat opposite Vale with an espresso.

The breakfast hall was empty, save for them and two employees who were still preparing the buffet stands. It was quarter to six in the morning, the Autumn sun had barely risen, and the hotel staff had thrown the two men a collection of surprised looks when they emerged from the hallway doors an hour before breakfast.

They had hurriedly served them coffee before retreating to the kitchens to retrieve more food.

Vale nodded solemnly, closing his eyes against the sudden light that flooded through the drawn curtains. He received flashes of memory plagued by splitting headaches and a wave of nausea. Dark brown hair, even darker brown eyes— everything dark and hazy and sickly in his throat.

He blew a sharp breath out his nose and let the steam burn his cheeks.

“Come on, then,” His friend urged with a delighted tone, “Confessional. How’d you humiliate yourself this time?”

Uccio had been unlucky enough to have team matters to attend to the night before, something boring about contractual negotiations for the approaching year, so he could not make it to the celebrations. Which meant he wanted a full debrief. Which meant confrontation was unavoidable- something that did not usually worry Vale. But the previous night had been—

Valentino groaned and planted the mug on the table, palming his eyes.

The other man frowned a little, playfully, “Why? What’s wrong? You’re… uncharacteristically ashamed of yourself.”

Vale said nothing, but huffed a laugh.

“Was it bad?” 

“Oh, yeah,” He brought a lanky hand to the pot in the centre of the table and snagged a packet of white sugar. It was trembling with the quakes of his hangover. And probably the pressure of the interrogation.

Alessio scoffed, “Who’d you fuck?”

They needed to spend less time together.

“How do you know?” Vale frowned accusatorially, fumbling with the paper between his hands.

The man shrugged, “You wouldn’t get like this over doing something stupid, and you say stupid shit when you’re sober. So who did you fuck?”

“Just… someone.”

“Nothing new there.”

“Someone I probably... shouldn’t have.”

Uccio nodded with mock sombreness because they were getting somewhere, but nowhere worth all of Vale’s grumbling.

“Okay. Also, nothing really new.”

“Well— So…” Valentino could not find it in himself to say it. He reduced to silence once more.

“Come on, you’re boring me,” Uccio took a sip of his espresso, “Don’t make me guess.”

Vale caught his eyes and nodded once, curtly. It, annoyingly, could work. Also, it could make things enjoyable enough to relieve a fraction of harshness from Uccio’s eventual judgement.

His friend laughed incredulously and it would have been a nice sound if Valentino did not feel like his brain would implode any second.

“Alright. Fine.”

He settled his elbows on the table and planted his chin on his folded hands.

“The King of Spain.”

And that was a strong start. Vale huffed a laugh.

“Worse.”

“Worse?” Uccio exclaimed, “Than the King of Spain?”

Vale nodded.

“The Queen of Spain?”

Vale shook his head.

“Oh, good. So, at least we’re not evading the police.”

A beat. And then:

“A cartel member—“

Head shake.

“—‘s daughter?”

Double head shake. And Vale was getting a bit dizzy with all the shaking.

Alessio thought for a moment and his eyes turned slightly furious.

“My sister?”

Valentino shook his head profusely and smiled when Uccio blew out a breath of relief. 

“My mum?”

Vale chuckled and nodded.

Uccio reached across and flicked Valentino’s forehead without hesitation.

“You’re not even taking this seriously.”

“You said it,” Vale rubbed at the spot the man whacked because it actually kind of hurt, “But, no. Worse.”

“You’re busting my balls here, bro. How could it be worse than my mum? Did you like— did you fuck another rider?”

Valentino froze, blood shooting cold down his spine, eyes locked to Uccio’s face as his gaze wandered the room for fresh ideas, before returning to the (marginally) older man.

He shrugged, his own words having slipped his mind in their inanity, “What?”

Vale nodded almost imperceptibly. 

Uccio seemed to be reviewing what he had just said, turning the words over and over with a confused curve of his lips. And then his face cleared and Vale braced his hand on his bouncing thigh.

The man’s smile dropped like a pin, “What?”

“I know.”

“Vale,” He leaned forward in his seat, “What? Who?”

Valentino shook his head and dug his thumbs into his eye sockets.

“You’re gonna kill me.”

“Yeah, I am! Who the fuck was it?”

[dandelion-roots]

[ID: a digital drawing of Riz Gukgak from D20 fantasy high from the waist up. He looks like he's holding onto sanity by a thread and is covered in blood as he attempts to sew a finger back onto Biz's hand and says, ha ha, oopsie! End ID]

Damn man being 14 sure is tough... It's all just pimples this, brutally shooting off a classmate's fingers before figuring out he wasn't the mastermind and then immediately regretting it that...

[gooperts-gunk]

im so crazy over the tragedy of everything q!bbh does being under a demon pretense even though he's a fallen angel.

do u think he just accepts the demon label because it's easier. do u think he believes it too, and catches himself in his thoughts with "oh, right. im not exactly that". and maybe he believes that he did this to himself? do u think what he did was to protect himself or someone? no matter the fall, he still has so much kindness to give and his brain just isn't wired the way a natural-born demon would be, he can't hold back instincts when time demands it, maybe that's why he fell in the first place.

and when he's finally bad, not good, it's treated like the end of the world, without empathy on why he would act out. do you think this keeps happening? the same scenario, multiple times, every timeline? he has to be used to it. so he has to take it in stride. he's good until he lashes out under extreme pressure, and suddenly he's called demon. and once again he's what heaven made him out to be. what he made himself to be, his brain would ruthlessly provide...

i don't think he wants to be that, though he hides secrets behind secrets of which neither identity is a home... but i don't think he wants to have to change, either. and i don't think that's wrong of him.

...you collapse atlantis ONE TIME and all of a sudden YOU'RE the bad guy and SURE it was FUN but REALLY now,--

[zootopiathingz]

A Promise in the Dead of Night

“I’m scared…”

Her voice is but a whisper, that Alastor barely registers her words at first. When he does, he feels himself tightening his arms around her, his mind already preparing to shield her from danger that he’s not made aware of.

Something’s been off about Charlie’s behavior and he hasn’t been able to determine the reason. From the moment she stepped in his room, he’s known she hasn’t been in her usual perky mood. It’s not unlike her to pay him a visit in the dead of night. Hell, it’s practically become routine for them. If he doesn’t end up falling asleep with her in her own bed, he can expect to find her hours later in his room, quietly requesting that she stay. And he never refuses. How could he possibly turn down such a request from the radiant, smiling princess of Hell?

But tonight, that gorgeous smile of hers that normally greets him when she enters a room was absent from her face. Her piercing eyes that could read all the secrets of his soul were puffy from tears she must have dried before coming to see him. She hasn’t uttered a word until now. She simply opened the door and walked over to join him on the sofa he sits on and crawled her way into his arms. He hasn’t questioned her, but he finds it odd that she had been so quiet. Not even a laugh, or even a breath. Has she been holding her breath the whole time?

Alastor brings his hand up to the back of her head that lays against his chest, raking his long claws through the soft strands of her golden hair. “Of what, dear?” He asks, his voice only slightly louder than hers.

She doesn’t answer. Not with words, at least. Instead she just further nuzzles her head against him, burying her face into the fabric of his coat like she’s trying to hide from something. Alastor swears he hears a faint whimper escape her—a sound that not only catches him off-guard, but fills him with rage. Several thoughts run through his mind like a herd of deer. What could have happened to her that would send her into such a fragile state? Who hurt her…?

Before jumping to conclusions, he decides to continue with his gentle approach. He shifts slightly, taking her chin between his fingers to lift her head away from his chest, her gaze instinctively meeting his. He’s met with the most heartbreaking look of vulnerability she’s ever displayed. He doesn’t like it one bit.

“What’s troubling you, my darling?” He questions her again, his thumb tenderly caressing the soft, milky skin of her face.

Charlie sniffles and briefly shifts her gaze downward as she struggles to answer in a way that makes sense. “I.. I don’t know.” She sighs shakily. She knows it’s a pathetic response, but she doesn’t know how to explain the hell-storm wreaking havoc in her mind.

Alastor stays quiet, only giving her a look that urges her to go on. And when she looks at him again, she does, however reluctantly.

“Oh Al.. I don’t know why, but I have a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach and no matter what I do, it won’t leave me alone.” Charlie lets out a small hiccup of a breath, leaning her head forward slightly, longing to lay on his chest again. “I keep having these horrible dreams. They play out differently, but they all end the same way…something bad happens, or someone attacks us, and one way or another, you get taken away from me. I don’t know what happens to you after. I always wake up before I can find out, but I’m afraid that it means you were…”

She pauses, not wanting to actually finish the thought aloud. She knows she doesn’t need to, anyway. Alastor can easily fill in the blank.

His signature smile, sealed by his lips at the moment, tightens at the corners. Charlie doesn’t see it, but his blinking eyes go wide for just a moment. It may be just a coincidence, it had to be. But what are the odds that they were both struggling with bad dreams about losing the other to some unknown force of darkness? Alastor hasn’t let it affect him like Charlie clearly has, because to him it shouldn’t have meant anything.

But to know that his princess was facing the exact same troubling phenomenon…that was a cause for alarm.

He doesn’t tell her of this. No, he refuses to worry her any more than she already has been. It’s his job to ease her worries, not increase them. It’s a burden he’ll bear for them both. What’s one more, anyway?

He pulls her in close to him as she snuggles into his arms. “Oh Charlie, you must not fret over something like night terrors.” He assures in a calming tone, trailing his hand up and down the length of her back. “They’re just dreams, after all. They cannot hurt us.”

“That’s the thing. What if they’re not just dreams?” Charlie argues, her body growing slightly tense at this thought she only just now realizes she has. “What if..it’s a warning?”

Alastor doesn’t even want to entertain the idea. He doesn’t want to imagine that that’s the reason behind their shared unconscious terrors. No, he won’t give into the fear. It will only consume them, and then they will be doomed to face it.

“You shouldn’t think like that, dear.” He says, leaning his head down, resting his chin atop of her head. “It will do you no good. You mustn’t let your fear control you.”

Charlie closes her eyes, her voice reverting back to its pitiful hushed tone. “I can’t stop it.”

There’s a brief moment of stillness between them. Neither dares to move from the warmth of the other’s touch. The air grows quiet, with only the cackling flames of the fireplace providing any source of sound. That is, until Alastor slowly lifts his head and pulls her back to face her again. The look in his eyes takes her aback. His grin is as wide as always, but there’s a subtle glimmer of sadness in his gaze that she’s never quite seen before. She’s not sure if she should feel touched that he’s grown so comfortable to express such vulnerability in front of her, or horrified of the meaning behind it…

“Then tell me what I can do to make it go away.” He raises his finger up to brush her bangs away from her forehead, before resting his hand against the side of her face, cupping her face in his palm. “Whatever it is, it will be done. Just name it.”

Charlie frowns softly, staring at him quietly for the longest minute. She’s not sure there’s anything he can do to make this all disappear. Alastor may be a powerful overlord, wielding immense power that has left even her impressed. But sadly, he can’t just snap his fingers and rid her of her fears like he wishes. Miracles like that weren’t possible down here in Hell.

There’s one thing he can do, though. As simple as it may be, it’s what she needs him to do.

Charlie leans her face into his palm, bringing her own hand up to hold his wrist as she looks deep into his eyes. “Just..promise me that no matter what happens, if anything happens, that nothing will tear us apart from each other.” She says, her voice trembling more and more with each word. “Whether these are just stupid dreams or not, I cannot lose you, Alastor. So please.. promise me now.”

Alastor gives her an incredulous look, raising his brow a little, just before he leans in, inching his face closer to hers.

“Charlie..my princess,” He speaks firmly, his voice lacking any static or filter that it normally carries, “I swear on my damned life, I will never let anything take you away from me. Not Heaven. Not Hell. Nothing is ever going to keep us apart. Do you understand?”

She nods slowly, and as she blinks the tears she’s been fighting back threaten to burst like a broken dam. Alastor kisses her, the tender touch of his lips bringing her a warm sense of comfort. He then pulls her back into his reassuring embrace, and at last the woman crumbles down. She cries into his shoulder, clinging onto him like she may lose him for good if she even thinks of letting go. He doesn’t say anything, knowing he’s said all he can to bring her solace and all he can do now is simply be here with her.

But they both know his words held nothing but truth to them. Charlie’s been the one good thing to ever happen to him in a long, long time. And he would sooner die again than ever let something rip that away from his grasp. He will hold onto her and use everything in his power to fight for her, and he will do it all with a smile on his face.

It’s alright, my love. Is his immediate thought when he hears that dreadful sound of her sobbing. He hugs her as close as he possibly can, letting his eyes fall shut as his face presses onto the mess of hair on her head. The shadow that resembles his shape looms over the pair, hovering its claws protectively over the woman in Alastor’s arms.

Anyone who tries to take you from me will be faced with a fate worse than death…

[starrylevi]

Going to the beach with Levi 🏝️💦🥰

(This was just supposed to be a simple headcanon but my brain would not rest until all of this was written)

You know the beach isn’t exactly Levi’s favorite place. The water’s usually cold, the sand can be especially messy, and beaches tend to be extremely crowded. However, it’s summer time and of course Levi knew at some point you would want to go. So he rents a car, loads up the lounge chairs and umbrellas you both ordered, along with a cooler. Levi’s a planner so he made sure to think of everything. Once you get to the beach, both of you set everything up. Levi puts sunscreen on himself before he applies it onto you, mumbling “The UV rays will kill you…”

You take endless pictures of Levi, capturing his toned body, his black swim trunks hanging loosely around his hips while wearing the black ray bans you bought him.

Levi tells you he’s not going into the water which earns him a frown from you. You show him the waterproof case you brought specifically for taking pictures while in the water. “You don’t really trust that thing, do you?” He asks incredulously. He’ll roll his eyes at you as you double down, assuring him your phone will be safe.

You practically have to drag him to get him into the ocean, tugging on his hand as he reluctantly follows you into the water.

“Oh my god, it’s cold.” You laugh, letting go of his hand to wrap your arms around yourself.

“What, it isn’t as great as you thought it would be?” You hear Levi tease behind you, chuckling at your discomfort of the temperature of the water. You quickly forget about the freezing water and turn around, splashing water towards him. The water hits its mark, droplets appearing on his hair, face, and body. He isn’t expecting that so it takes him a second to recover. He doesn’t move, his eyes narrow at you once he’s able to blink the water out of them. “I’m going to give you till the count of 3, Y/N.” He says calmly, wearing an almost imperceptible smirk.

“No, I’m sorry!” You yell out, laughter still in your voice as you back away from him, knowing he’s not going to let you get away with this.

“One.”

“Shit…” You giggle as you attempt to put some distance between you two. It’s difficult because of the waves that keep threatening to bring you back to him.

“Two.” His smirk is more noticeable now, and his eyes have a playful glint in them.

You keep backing away, fighting against the waves as you watch Levi.

“Three.”

You don’t know why you even tried outrun the man, especially in water. Levi catches up to you in seconds, one of his slender arms seizes you by the waist, yanking you back to him so you’re both chest to chest. While still holding you to his chest, he scoops you up, the other arm going under the back of your knees so that he’s carrying you bridal style.

You shriek loudly while closing your eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

You hear Levi’s low chuckle but you also feel it, the vibrations of the wonderful sound present in his chest. “Open your eyes, brat.”

You oblige, opening one eye cautiously before also opening the other. Levi’s smirking down at you in his arms and you can’t help but admire him for a moment. Strands of wet black hair stick to his forehead as he looks at you. With the sun hitting him directly his eyes shine a brilliant blue, almost matching the clear sky. Beads of water grace his porcelain skin, running down his face, neck, and chest. “You’re so pretty.” You say without thinking.

Levi playfully rolls his eyes, the smirk still on his face. “Flattery will get you nowhere in this situation.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.” He pretend pouts before he brings you closer to him, leaning his own head down so he can give you a soft kiss. “Hold your nose.” He murmurs as he pulls away from your lips. You almost don’t register what he’s saying until you see his smirk get wider. Your own eyes widen and you quickly hold your nose before Levi plunges you into the cold water, releasing you from his hold. You’re not under for long before you feel Levi’s arms pulling you back up to the surface.

You take a deep breath once you’re not underwater anywhere. “Thank you for that.” You say with a chuckle as you slick back your wet hair.

Levi responds with a chuckle of his own before pulling you to him for another kiss, feeling his smile as he places his lips against yours. You live for these moments with Levi, the ones in which you both, especially Levi, forget all about your responsibilities and just have fun.

“Ooo, can I get on your back?” You ask excitedly as you gently pull away.

“What for?”

“So you can carry me around.” You say with a smile. “It’ll be fun!”

“Get on, brat.” He orders as he turns his back to you, crouching down a little so it’s easier for you to get on. You use his shoulders for support as you mount, wrapping your arms around neck while you wrap your legs around his waist. You feel him as he hooks his arms under your legs to keep you secure.

You remember the lanyard around your own neck, that’s attached to the waterproof phone case. You use this opportunity to pull it out and take a selfie of you and Levi.

“Really?” You hear Levi ask as you hold out the phone in front of both of you, angling it up to get a better picture.

“Yes, really.” You answer before putting on a smile and snapping a photo of the both of you, noting Levi’s resting bitch face. “If you could smile in the next one that would be great!”

You’re the one person that Levi will let take pictures of him. 99% of the pictures you take involving him live in your phone, never to be seen by anyone else. They are for your eyes only. The other 1% you share on social media, but only if he’s okay with it. You respect Levi’s privacy.

You see Levi roll his eyes through the camera and you chuckle, capturing the moment. “Smile, Levi.” You say before taking another picture. He offers you a hint of a smile, which is good enough for you. The last picture you take is of you capturing Levi off guard by quickly kissing his cheek. It’s probably your favorite as you see a hint of blush in Levi’s cheeks. “Okay, we’re done!”

“Thank God.”

You chuckle as you return your arm around Levi’s neck, securing yourself against him. You both float around like this for about twenty minutes, making conversation about mermaids and sirens (Levi doesn’t think they’re real but you don’t waver on your stance that they are) Erwin’s barbecue that you’re both supposed to attend the next day (“He better not burn the meat.” Levi says with a huff) and other random things (“I wonder what birds think about all day“ “They just eat, shit, and piss”).

After, you both get out of the water. Levi reaches his lounge chair and lies down on it. Once you see him comfortably lying down, you get the idea to lie down with him. “Don’t have your own chair?” Levi jokes as he spreads his legs, making space you can lie in between them. You’re snug as a bug in the chair with him, your head lying on his chest and his arms loosely wrapped around you his fingers gently trace circles on your back. It’s incredibly soothing and you end up falling asleep for about half an hour. You only wake up because you feel light taps on your shoulder and soft kisses to your forehead.

“Hm?” You lift your head up lazily, nose scrunched as you look up at Levi.

“Hungry?”

You give him a little nod and you see him reach for something on the side before bringing back a sandwich. He pulls it out of the ziplock bag and holds it up to your mouth, gesturing for you to take a bite. You take a bite, savoring the taste. “Thank you.” He feeds you the rest of the sandwich before offering you a bottle of water to wash it down.

You decide to take a few more photos while still resting on Levi’s chest. You’re being silly in most of the photos while Levi’s in the background with his sunglasses on, wearing his usual stoic expression. You do get a few shots in which he’s chuckling, looking absolutely gorgeous. You also manage to get him to put him up a peace sign in one of the pictures.

What really surprises you is while you’re taking a short video of the beach. You capture the beautiful scenery before turning the video back on you and Levi, at which moment he gently grabs your chin between his fingers and slowly leads your lips to his, pulling you into a sensual kiss. You almost feel dizzy when he pulls back just an inch. “Did you get that on video?” He asks with a hint of a smile.

“I…uh, some of it, I think.” You reply, trying not to fumble your words.

“That’s only for you and me, hm?”

You nod. “Yeah, yeah…of course. That wasn’t even a thought in my brain.” You reply with a bashful smile, really happy that he let you capture that intimate moment on camera. There’s no need to share it with anyone else.

“Thank you.” You say shyly with a giggle, not even fully understanding why you’re thanking him. The man turns you to absolute mush. Levi chuckles along with you. You don’t see the shine in his eyes behind his glasses but it’s there.

You need to have beach days with Levi more often.

[harryforvogue]

hello welcome back to me writing out some ideas that will never become actual full stories. this was super fun because i've never written the bodyguard trope. i won't be writing more for this, but isn't this so fun???? hope you like it! (if the French is wrong, that's on me) 2.5k idk

***

France, 1843.

The tavern will do for the night.

It’s inconspicuous, a perfect hiding spot. In fact, now that she’s been in her room for the past three hours, it’s safe to say that if anyone were to come looking for her, they’d be long gone by now. That’s why she changes into a fresh outfit (provided by the very nice hostess who got teary eyed by the story she made up.) She’s now in a simple dress, much better than the other outfit. After all, it would be weird to be traipsing around in a wedding dress.

Her family went all in for the dress too. She’s going to hold on to it, see how much money she can make from it.

She comes down the stairs quietly. At nearly sunset time, the bar is starting to get crowded. She can definitely get mixed into the wave of people, giving her more cover. She expected several people to come in around this time anyways. Despite it being 4 in the afternoon, the winter allows for the sun to retreat earlier. The visibility outside must be terrible, and with a snowstorm on top of that, the only people coming into the tavern will be loyal customers and those sheltering from the weather. 

Of course, her family is too highly opinionated to stop at a measly little tavern like this.

She skips off the last step and looks around. She's picked an excellent spot.

When she sits at the bar, it takes only a minute for the bartender to catch her eye. “Une bière.”

He retreats to pour her drink, and then slides it across the wooden bar.

She catches it and smiles sweetly at him. Then relaxes into her seat and listens to the music.

What a disaster of a day. The whole town will be talking about it tomorrow: the runaway bride. Well, maybe not this town. No, this place is smaller, and less wealthy. They care little for the problems of the rich folk.

The minutes pass by in silence and peace. That is, until the bartender comes by with another drink that she definitely did not ask for.

“Ça vient du monsieur,” the man says.

She looks over to where he's gesturing.

Sitting at the end of the bar is a man she’s all too familiar with. His curls aren’t wet with snow, nor are his clothes, which suggest he’s been here for a long time. Has he been waiting for her out? Did he follow her the moment she left the chapel, or was it that his guess was just correct? Pure luck maybe. Regardless of the how, what matters is that he knows where she is, and he answers her scowl with a smile of his own, lifting his glass in the air as if to toast her attempts at escaping him.

“Merci,” she grits to the bartender. She turns back to her drink, trying to come up with a plausible story before Harry makes his way over. The thirty seconds it takes Harry to show up, though, is simply not enough. 

He sits on the vacant seat beside her. He slides his mug over and lightly taps hers. “Fear not,” he says in English, grinning with his dimples on full display, “I’m here alone.”

Harry’s been her guard for several years. He’s young, barely 3 or 4 years older than her. He rarely speaks with her, but he’s always there when she goes out, even when she’s with her fiancé. He was posted with her years ago when her father gained some political opposition, out of fear she’d get in harm’s way. Thanks to Harry, that’s never happened.

Suffice to say, she’s less than happy to see him here.

Normally, he’s a nice face to look at. All handsome and diligent. He stands nearly half a foot taller than her, always dressed in nearly all black. He has women fainting over him. She, too, can admire his beauty. 

But she’s not going to tell him that.

“As if an army of my father’s men would frighten me,” she replies back.

“Aren’t you glad to see me? Out of all the guards that could have been here searching for the runaway bride, aren’t you happy that it’s me and not another?”

“I’d be more happy to see my fiancé.”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Is he still your fiancé?”

“I mean, I still have the ring on my finger.”

“Would have figured you’d pawned it off by now.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “Are you going to force me to go back? Because let me tell you, I’m going to put up a fight. I will scream bloody murder if you touch me.”

Harry looks amused now. He rests his chin on his palm.

“That is quite a plan. It’s easy to see how you could be so creative about running away too. Let’s talk about it because I do feel the need to give you kudos, mademoiselle. Not only did you persuade your father to have a winter wedding, but you also picked out the most expensive fabrics and gems for your big day. You convince your fiancé that you love him and then leave him in the church where everyone is supposed to witness a holy union. You thoroughly humiliated him. Excellent scheming.”

He actually does seem impressed.

She doesn’t say anything.

“And to answer your question,” he continues. “I don’t plan on forcing you to go back. In fact, I was actually anticipating this.”

“Anticipating this, how?” She doesn’t want to be on the defense, but he’s acting strange. Too comfortable. 

He rolls his head back and looks at her incredulously. “You may not see me at all times, but as your guard, I do keep my eyes on you. And it’s a wonder how other people didn’t notice. The way your smile dropped at the mere mention of him, the way you had to leave the room with a pitiful excuse every time he showed up. The way you refused to let him kiss you after he very kindly walked you home all the time. Almost difficult to watch.”

She feels her face burn. “You’re not supposed to spy on me.”

“That is my job. I get paid for it, so I might as well be thorough, no?” He’s smiling again.

“All those things mean nothing. It was a last minute decision to run away.” She tilts her head back and finishes her ale.

“Ah, that I know. It was the most surprising part when you didn’t show up. I knew you would pull something like this, make an excuse of some kind. I anticipated that – but I didn’t anticipate it happening on your wedding day.”

“I wasn’t going to wait for an annulment. Don’t know if that would even be possible. And who'd want to marry me after that anyways. Running away was my best option.”

“He’s absolutely distraught, by the way. He’d be very unhappy if he knew we were talking like this. We’ve become friends of some sort.”

“Why would he be upset about us speaking?”

The incredulous look comes back. “It pains me that you don’t know how jealous your little fiancé is. You have such little awareness.”

“Jealous?” She suddenly laughs. “Oh please. As if he has anything to be jealous about.”

Harry finishes his drink and then orders another round for them. As he does, she takes him in. He’s in his black vest, white long sleeved shirt, with an undone white cravat, his jacket tucked away somewhere in the bar. He taps his perfectly polished boots against the floor, pristine black trousers fitting nicely around his strong thighs. His trousers are always perfectly fitted, unlike the rest of her guards. Or maybe she’s just spent a lot of time looking at him.

“He has plenty to be jealous about, mademoiselle.”

“All my attention has been on wedding planning and such for weeks now. I haven’t had the chance to even talk to another man.”

He glances back at her when she’s looking down at his thighs. He’s silent for a moment, but then says quietly, “Not all jealousy has to come from interacting with a man. It could just be from the way you look at one.”

Her eyes jump back to his face. His eyes are narrowed as if trying to figure her out. “He has nothing to be jealous about,” she repeats.

“He doesn’t?”

“As horrible of a woman I am for leaving a man at his own wedding, I’m not the type of woman to betray him, even though I don’t feel any particular affection for him. I respect him and myself.”

“I don’t think it has anything to do with respect, mademoiselle. It’s about desire. After all, you should desire the man you’re marrying, is that not true?”

“Yes, and that’s why I’ve run away.”

“And if you were to desire someone else, it wouldn’t be betrayal, given you’re no longer his intended.”

He says it so casually, but she sees the way his eyes slip down to her mouth for a brief second. 

“I still have the ring.”

He glances at her hand. “Will you keep it?”

“Not planning on it.”

“And until then, you’ll stay faithful to a man you have no intention of marrying? Forgive me, I can’t seem to make sense of this logic.”

She thinks about how much she should tell him. He’s had it figured out, it seems. Maybe she wasn’t as good at hiding her true feelings about the union. Or maybe Harry’s just watched her too closely.

She says, “Are you really not going to take me back?”

Harry shakes his head. “What good would that do?”

“My father would appreciate it.”

“Your father has overlooked many things that I think have been worth appreciating over the span of my career as your dutiful guard, mademoiselle.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Harry doesn’t say anything. He simply watches her, as if she’ll understand him just from his expression. She doesn’t.

“Tell me,” she demands.

“I’ve done things that deserve recognition, that is all.”

“Like what?”

He narrows his eyes. “Like keeping you alive for the past four years, you ungrateful wench. With all the stupid decisions you make on a daily basis, I should actually be getting a fucking medal for managing to keep all your limbs in tact.”

The way he says it is so sudden and harsh, she can’t help but laugh. 

“Funny, is it?” he grumbles.

“Hilarious. So, what type of recognition would you even have liked for keeping me alive?”

“It doesn't matter now, I think. Surely I’ll lose my job for not getting to you in time and bringing you back.”

She sits up straighter. “If I were to be brought back, what do you think you’d deserve for it?”

He sighs. “I shouldn't say.”

“I want to know.”

“You’ll hate me.”

She smiles real wide. “So what?"

He contemplates it for a moment. Finishes his second drink and then drums his fingers on the bar top. His knee gently brushes against her skirts beneath the table. “Did you know that before your father picked him to marry you, he had one of the other guards draft a list of eligible men?”

Her expression sours. “There was a list? How disappointing.”

“Mhm. It wasn’t a very long one.”

“What does this have to do with my question?”

He looks at her, unblinking. “If I were to bring you back to your father, and you still had to marry, I would like to be considered on that list.”

Everything falls away. Her smile drops, and her heart beats hard in her ears. Harry doesn’t look away from her, watching every expression take over her face. Surprise, worry, and then…

“Oh.”

The corner of his mouth twists. “Right. And a part of me wishes I’d throw you over my shoulder and drag you back to him. Just to be considered, even for a mere moment. Long enough for there to be a mental image of you and I at the altar in your father’s head. I’d be pleased with even a mere thought if it’s the only time we'd ever be together. But that wouldn’t be fair, would it?”

“No.” Though the thought of being draped over that shoulder is more than enough to get her knee bouncing under the table. Her leg jostles his.

“And of course,” he says, smiling tightly, “you are loyal to your man because of that ring.”

They both look down at the gem. It gleams in the light. 

Harry’s eyes dart back up to hers. He watches her for several long seconds before he reaches out.

With slow movements, he takes her hand. “Unless…” he murmurs, resting her hand on top of his knee. He gently twists the ring off her finger and drops it into his pocket. She keeps her hand on his leg.

Could he be trying to get her to make a move? She’ll be truly guilty if she advances first, but he doesn’t seem to be pulling away either. She holds her breath.

What she ends up saying is, “You said that as my guard, you’ve always needed to keep your eyes on me.”

“Yes.” His gaze is heavy. Dark.

“Even when I didn’t need you to?”

“I always looked out for you. I always will. It’s become second nature to me.”

That makes her feel a certain way. A way she’s never felt in her life. Her breath catches. 

"You do deserve something for that," she says softly. She carefully squeezes his leg, right above his knee.

His jaw visibly tenses.

Harry leans in, and this is when she realizes he’s moving first. He takes a hold of her chin and tilts it up, eyebrows drawn together as if he’s really trying his best to stay away but can’t. He brings his head down. He whispers her name and her body caves, leaning into him.

For the first time in her life, she's excited about kissing a man. Her impatience suddenly surpasses the limit. She puts her other hand on his knee and pushes herself upwards to meet his kiss.

Just before his mouth touches hers, the bartender returns with a gruff, “Il est tout à fait inapproprié de le faire ici. Allez dans votre chambre.” 

Harry pulls away, just barely, and looks down at her through his eyelashes. He keeps a hold on her face. “Shall we?” he asks her, ignoring the bartender. 

She swallows roughly. His eyes are drenched with desire, her heart pounding away in her chest. She licks her lips, enjoying the way he follows the movement.

He whispers, “I’ll be nice, darling.”

Excitement spreads through her like wildfire. She balls her hands into fists and takes a deep breath. “Come.”

He smiles then, and it takes her aback. As he stands, he genuinely looks pleased. Relieved even. As if he’s been waiting for this chance. He takes her hand and tells her to lead him to her room. 

And when he presses her against her door, hands tangled in her hair, a searing kiss placed onto her mouth, she realizes this is what it’s supposed to feel like.