#Unless you're gin

[ravarui]

// Waiting together with @alyafae that the latest House of Dragon Episode drops at 4am our time.

Todays episode is for her, what episode 1112 of OP is gonna be for me next week

[sakuramoussy]

Second Generation Angels of Death in order of age:

Pina [Deceased] - Niece of the God of Death, daughter of Tainted Angel Reval and Angel Livi.

Neira [Deceased] - Daughter of Angel Brecknet and Tainted Angel Reed.

Irida [Deceased] - Daughter of Angel Cyllene and Reaper Icor. Her twin is still missing, they were separated as infants, so the missing twin may not even know their birthname.

Luis - Son of Angel of Dreams Damsel and Reaper Drevis. Reaper raised by Melody after being separated from his parents and being enslaved at Tenriek during the war.

Gin - Son of Angel Jiiraan and Angel of Life Eden. Gin works primarily at the Memorial Graveyard for Fallen Angels, but also works in various Mortuaries in Death City alongside Angel Clarita.

Bonnie - Daughter of Angel Xu and a human named Cheri. Angel Xu went missing when Bonnie was age 7, so Bonnie spends most of her time with her human family, despite her mother passing away many years before her father's disappearance. Weak compared to other Angels, but always willing to help the other Angels with whatever she can.

Drey - Son of Angel Annabelle and Angel Brecknet; Brecknet refuses to involve himself with his son, so Annabelle raises her son alongside the other Angels of Death living in Death Manor.

[leclarifies]

birthday boy

✰ max verstappen x !bestfriend reader ✰

summary: max doesn't like it when it's race week and you're not there. he's been trying to convince you to quit your job and just come to his races full-time, offering to pay for the expenses but you've refused every single time. you end up surprising him in the singapore gp for his surprise birthday party the grid had arranged for him.

wc: 3.5k

a/n: hi there! this is my FIRST ever published fic and i'm super nervous about posting hjawdhbawjhbdbhawd i've had this idea since maxie's birthday in september but kept it in the drafts and re-edited some things around just to make it cohesive. i have requests open and my masterlist is currently an ongoing wip. thank you for reading!

edit: hello, here's my complete masterlist for anyone who wants to view my other work. thank you for 350 notes btw! i really appreciate it <3

a ding rings through your phone and at first, you ignore it. 

it’s usually a work text which is why you’re not more alert. it’s a weekend and you genuinely just want to enjoy yourself while watching the race that your best friend is participating in and starting from pole position. 

then another ding, two more follow after that.

your furrow your brows confused, if it was a work text then they wouldn’t be spamming unless it was an emergency. 

you open your phone and you’ve realized you’ve been added to a group chat. 

lily m: hi guys! i’ve created this gc bc some of the boys wanted to surprise max for his birthday!!!!! so i’ve invited most of the drivers and their wags here in case you guys wanted in as well charles: Yes, hello everyone :) kika: yes! we’re so excited <33 all of the wags and respective drivers should be in this groupchat :D 

seeing this groupchat made you confused, yes you were max’s best friend but you were certainly not a wag and very certain that you weren’t a driver. so, you sent a text.

you: hi guys, i appreciate the gesture but i am not a wag and certainly not a driver HAHA

lily m: oh yeah! alex told me to add you bc we thought that you would want to surprise max  considering you guys are best friends HAHAHAH my bad i should’ve clarified

alexandra: welcome y/n! it’s great to have u here :]

you: no worries guys, but max’s birthday isn’t until almost two weeks from now were you guys planning a big party?

charles: I’m not sure what we want to do but considering it’s Autumn break when it’s his actual birthday, we wanted to start early.

lily z: we *could* plan a big party, but what do u think y/n? u know him best

you: i think a big party could suit him best lots of gin & tonic must i add

carlos: HAHA Of course.

the chats continued to flow in as all of the wags and some of their drivers tried to plan what felt best for max’s birthday party. it was a few hours before the race and you had assumed not all of the drivers had their phones on them which explained the lack of texts coming from them, it wasn’t abnormal. they were usually busy with their last minute content for their social media platforms or doing pre-race interviews.

then your phone rang, it was an incoming call.

“hello?” you spoke softly into the phone after picking up, knowing exactly who called.

“hi,” max breathed out softly, you could hear the hustle and bustle of the paddock in the background. max always made it a habit to call you a few hours before the race start, and it warmed your heart to think that he always thought of you before the races.

you didn’t know when the feelings started, was it his seventeenth birthday where he kissed you before his race? was it the promise that he would always be by your side and support you when you got your first job? was it when he convinced you to move to monaco and helped you move in with your sister? was it the soft glances he would shoot your way when you were at the paddock? or was it the small touches he would give when you guys were watching a movie? you didn’t know. all you knew that he was your best friend and you didn’t want to fuck this friendship up. 

“hey, how are you?” you replied, “the pre-race nerves getting to you maxie?”

“never. how’s it in monaco? how are jimmy and sassy?” max had asked, he had asked you to babysit his cats for you and you accepted. you loved nothing more than to watch over his cats while tending to your work.

“s’good. the cats are well-behaved, and i’m lounging in your sim racing gear about to turn it on and experience the race myself,” you joked, knowing that you were nowhere near the sim racing setup that he had for himself.

“i told you not to touch that,” max warned, you could tell he was walking around just by the sound of him talking and being slightly out of breath, “i miss you being here on the weekends, when are you off work?”

“i’m kidding,” you laughed as you got into a more comfortable position on his couch, “i dunno when i’m scheduled for time off again. i also do not have the money to continue to travel around the world to watch your races, max. i am comfortable with watching your races from monaco.” “how many times do i have to tell you that you can fly with me and stay with me while you’re out?” max reprimanded you for even thinking about the expenses, “you could even quit your job and do nothing and i could still have money leftover.”

you hated when he brought that up, he had always brought up the idea of you quitting your job and him helping you through your family’s struggles. you didn’t want to feel like a leech, you knew that his job was stressful enough, you didn’t want to be a stress on him and affect his job. “i am not a leech–”

“you are not leeching if i’m telling you to quit your job and come accompany me through my race schedule. it’s nice to have a support system around…” max’s voice trailed off, “seeing the other drivers with their girlfriends– friends makes me jealous.”

you were quiet for a bit, you’ve had this conversation one too many times with him before. he had told you to just live life and be with him, to stop thinking about the expenses and just be there for him but something about having your entire life being paid for by an extremely rich dutchman just didn’t sit right with you.

“i told you i’d think about it, plus you can invite all of the friends you want. it doesn’t have to be specifically me,” you sighed, rubbing your temples, “it’s not a nice feeling having to rely on someone 24/7 you know. you should understand how i feel as well.”

“i understand,” max sighed as well through the line, then you could hear him a bit farther away talking to one of the staff walking with him, you were assuming that they were on the way to the motorhome, “anyways, i’m on my way to film some content and i just wanted to see how you’re holding up at home."

you hummed back a response, listening intently to what he had to say, knowing that he would want to talk to you more before having to begrudgingly film content for the red bull racing’s social media platforms, “can you at least promise me that you will give me an answer after autumn break?”

you knew that autumn break was after the race he was at right now, which was in singapore. 

“max…” your voice trailed off, you didn’t know if you could make that decision in less than a month, “look, i said i’d think about it–” “but you’ve been thinking about it for three months, isn’t three months enough to make up your mind?” max cut you off, he hated it when you were stalling even though he knew that deep in your heart you would never come and just live off his expenses.

“we’re not having this conversation now,” you huffed, almost feeling frustrated now from max’s persistence, “how about you focus on the race and we can talk about this when you’re back?” “you always shut me out when it comes to hard decisions,” max replied back with the same attitude, “it’s such a bad habit, it pisses me off and it’s not like i’m asking you for a hard thing–” “just focus on the race. it’s your job. let me focus and enjoy mine, please. we can talk about this later when you’re back and you’ll have your answer then,” you almost begged him, you heard him say his goodbyes before shutting off the line. it was too early in the morning for him to be bargaining with you about your job– it wasn’t even bargaining anymore. he was practically begging you to quit your job to come to races with him full-time.

you didn’t necessarily have a hard job, sometimes you would attend the grand prix because you were working under a marketing firm in monaco and that would enable you to come to the races but it wasn’t all the time. your marketing firm worked closely with formula 1, but they had their main focuses and it didn’t allow you to attend and take time off work all of the time.

you estimated that it would be around 3 pm at singapore, which meant it was 5 hours to go before the main race. 

rubbing on your temples was a habit you had when you got stressed and it made you stressed even thinking about quitting your job. you liked your job and your co-workers and the pay wasn’t bad. 

you had basically promised him that you would give him an answer after he got home in monaco which made you make a decision under pressure. a ding from your phone distracted you from the problem at hand.

lily z: @/you how long would it take you to come to singapore? you: woah so suddenly?

kika: we thought we would just celebrate his birthday after the race, since we all can’t be in monaco at his exact birthday date what do u think y/n?

you: i dunno… okay kinda tmi but max has been bugging me about quitting my job to come and accompany him to the races fulltime but i told him i would give him a decision after the race i don’t think i’m ready to make a decision that quickly

alex: damn… we thought that it would be easier to celebrate in singapore instead of planning the party in monaco

you: it would certainly be easier all around but idk if i can face him so soon

lily m: i mean… is quitting ur job to hang out with us 24/7 rlly a bad idea HAHAH

you: honestly i would love to just hang out with u guys and just make it my job but i don’t wanna make it seem like i’m leeching off of max yk…

carmen: hi! i just caught up w everything but honestly, do what u feel comfortable with doing x if u don’t feel comfortable w cmg to singapore, then we’ll make ourselves available at an agreed date in monaco <3

alexandra: yeah, i agree ^^

lily z: honestly it all comes down to u y/n we all want everyone to b comfortable!

you: i don’t wanna be a nuisance, so i’ll take u guys up on that offer

alexandra: yay! so… book ur flight now..?

carmen: u better be ready bbg  HAHAHAH

rebecca: wait what’s happening i just checked my phone

you stifled a laugh at rebecca’s late response but sighed, you guessed it was now or never. 

you booked the first earliest flight from monaco to singapore, not forgetting about max’s cats and leaving them to your sister who lived together with you a few doors down.

but being on a flight to singapore meant that you had to miss watching the singapore gp altogether, only arriving in singapore at 8 am the next day. 

you yawned and stretched as you got off the airplane, not forgetting to turn your phone back on to see a barrage of texts from max and from the group chat.

maxie <3: P2 Y/n :)  Were u watching? Wish u were here :( 

maxie <3: Hello? Is ur phone off? Why are my texts green?

maxie <3: I’m starting to get worried I texted your sister and she said she had no idea where u are

maxie <3: Can u please answer me, I’m really worried.

you giggled a bit from max’s flood of texts, but you and the girls had discussed that it would be a good idea to surprise him with your arrival in singapore. you told your boss that you were taking paid time off for the week as you knew that you would be traveling with the wags and drivers for the week to celebrate the autumn break.

alexandra and rebecca were the ones to pick you up from the airport, all three of you catching up and gossiping about what happened at the track while you were in the air. 

“honestly, it was crazy to see mclaren finally starting to dominate the track this time of the year. usually we would see ferrari and red bull fighting but i guess they had the better car,” alexandra mumbled as you all sat together in the car.

“i expected max to win, but that’s a bit biased isn’t it?” you laughed, “he complained about the car a couple of times throughout the free practices but i wouldn’t know shit about the car. i’ve never driven one.” “yeah, carlos does it to me all the time and i’m sitting there pretending i know everything about the cars,” rebecca added onto that thought, “like yes babe, i know exactly what you’re talking about because being an f1 wag dictates that you know everything about the car you’re driving.” the three of you laughed.

it wasn’t long before you guys reached the club that you guys planned to have the big surprise party, lily z and m were there with kika and carmen. the boys were keeping max busy for the day.

it wasn’t long before the club was decorated and fit for the surprise party, you had booked out the entire club for the night to celebrate. it was nearing the time that max would arrive with the party of drivers.

“okay, so lando told max that they were celebrating his win again tonight so max shouldn’t be suspicious about what’s going on. considering lando’s quite the party animal,” lily z had told the group as they were sitting around the booth, you nodded and listened along well while guests from the teams were shuffling into the club.

honestly, you were a bit nervous facing max. you didn’t know if you were ready to completely quit your job, but you told yourself that you would talk about it later once the time comes. there wasn’t a point to stress about it now when max was nowhere in sight.

maxie <3: Y/n? Are my texts going through? Where are you?? I’m gonna call your phone flashed to see max was calling you. you picked it up and the first thing you hear was max panicking, “hello? where the hell have you been the past day? why haven’t you returned any of my calls or texts?” “well hello to you too,” you laughed, “i’m sorry about not responding to you, i’ve been busy with work. i’m currently at a work event. congrats on p2 by the way, i couldn’t watch the race because i was at the office.” “don’t ever do that again, you scared the shit out of me,” max breathed out, you could faintly hear the chatter of the drivers behind him.

“what are you doing right now?” you asked, feigning innocence, acting as if you didn’t know exactly where he was and what he was doing right now.

“lando wanted to celebrate his win again tonight so we’re going to a club to party,” max explained, “we’re arriving now, i’ll talk to you again later but you better respond straight away or i’m flying straight home.” “okay, okay. stay safe max,” you clicked the phone off before you signaled everyone to turn off the lights and get into positions to surprise max.

the doors of the club opened to reveal the drivers of the grid.

“why are the lights off–” “surprise!” everyone had shouted as max was front and center, the lights switched on to reveal the birthday balloons and you were there in front of the boys with the wags behind you. his face was priceless, the shock and the realization all hitting him at once. the realization that you were there and you weren’t at a work event but here, in the flesh, in front of him. it made him ecstatic.

you flashed a bright smile to max as he ran and hugged you almost instantly. 

“you’re so sneaky,” max breathed out, you could feel his hot breath next to your ear, making goosebumps rise in its wake, “you made me so worried to only show up here…” you could only laugh and hugged him back tightly, his hug, his touch, it made you feel alive. his touch was electrifying– in a good way. his touches, whether light or full blown hand holding or his arm around your shoulder always lit you up like a lightbulb. 

“i wanted to surprise you– well, everyone did. they thought it would be more convenient for me to come here and surprise you,” you laughed, “so, are you surprised?”

“hell yeah, let’s get this fucking party started!”

“so, about you quitting your job,” max tried to sneak the conversation in as the both of you were walking to his hotel, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. they just had a really good fucking party and both of you were quite tipsy but sober enough to navigate your way through the streets of singapore (with the help of google maps).

“you’re a very persistent man,” you laughed as you walked alongside max, shoulders brushing against each other. it was almost 4 am, but you didn’t feel unsafe or scared at all. spending the night with max was what you really enjoyed. he made you feel things that you were scared of addressing, so for now you were going  to enjoy the moment.

“seriously, you told me after the race and this is definitely after the race. so tell me, did you decide what you’re going to do?” max grabbed your wrist to stop the both of you from walking, you guys could see the hotel from this distance but he wanted to sincerely talk to you, “are you going to slave your life away, working from paycheck to paycheck and only coming to my races when you have the time? or are you going to agree with me and just ‘leech’ off of me?”

you sighed and turned to look at max, you couldn’t lie that the life he offered was enticing. not having to work a day in your life and still coming to these flashy grand prix and partying almost every week was a dream for most people and you were most people. “i dunno max, i told you i would give it a thought but you know how i feel about me living off of your money,” you locked eyes with max’s bright blue ones and he stepped closer to you, landing a hand on your cheek endearingly. the way he looked at you full of unconditional love, you couldn’t tell whether it was romantic or platonic anymore. you knew max and you knew that max would do anything for the people you loved and you were included in that list.

“if you’re thinking about family back at home, you know i can always send over some as well right? i know that’s your biggest concern,” max looked deep into your eyes and you could almost feel like he was looking into your soul, “i know you’re scared of leaving your work behind because you still need to support your family back home and you wanna know something? they’re my family too, i would send them money even if you didn’t ask.” max’s other hand found its way to hold yours, “please… just do this one thing for me. i always see the other drivers with their significant others and it pains me to see that you’re the only one not there and breaking your back to work. i just want you to support me and have fun while doing it…”

“max…”

“i’m serious,” max’s face grew ever so close to your own, you couldn’t tell whether the heat on your cheeks was from the proximity of the both of you or from the lingering alcohol, “you know i’d do anything for you and i don’t do that for a lot of people– you’re not a lot of people.”

“if i say okay, will that make you happy?” “the happiest man in the world.”

“consider this a birthday gift then birthday boy,” you breathed out and as you finished you sentence, you felt his lips on your own.

the kiss was electrifying– he was electrifying. his other hand that was clasping your hand softly was now on your other cheek, deepening the kiss. your hands found their way wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer.

to a rare passerby, the two of you were just a sweet couple sharing a kiss at 4 am and maybe, that’s what you were.

“you don’t know how long i’ve been wanting to do that for.” “ditto.”

[a-pastel-edgelord]

Shinsuke Kita is a man who likes what he likes and gives little thought to things he doesn't. He'll go about his daily routine: rise with the sun, eat, morning ablutions, out to the fields until lunch, take a break, then back into the fields until dinner, do chores around the house then a small past time or two until it's time for bed. Unless it's the weekend or a game day, then he goes to Onigiri Miya to catch up with Osamu, Gin, Akagi and Omimi around lunch time.

However, he finds himself going to Onigiri Miya a little earlier on some days with the hopes of catching you while you're on shift. You're a part-timer and university student—but Osamu has been telling him that you have the chops to run the restaurant by yourself. "I know I don't hafta worry about leavin' for an hour or so. S'good feeling, Kita."

It's easier to like someone if a friend vouches for them. Yes, that must be the reason he's fond of you, because Osamu is. He arrives at the restaurant an hour early—an electronic bell chimes through as he enters. It's busy as usual but there's no line.

"Welcome!" You look up from the register and beam. "Kita-san! I'll call the boss over, he's in the back doing inventory."

Before he can protest, you've bounced away. He hears a muffled conversation the opening of a door and a moment later Osamu takes your place with a raised eyebrow. "Yer awfully early, Kita. S'not delivery day is it?"

"Nah, nothin' like that. Just... Had some spare time."

"Spare time huh." Osamu repeats, like he's tasting the words for the first time. "Well, did ya want anythin' ta eat? The usual?"

"Sure, that'll do."

"Uh-huh." Osamu leans back to shout into the kitchen. "Go ahead and make Kita his usual!"

You respond in a sing-song voice. "Already started!"

Shinsuke can't help the grin that hitches onto his features even as Osamu casts a wary but amused eye over him. The two men make eye contact for a few beats before Osamu sighs. "Please don't go scarin' off some of the only good help I've been able ta find."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Yeah-huh."

But nothing else can be said on the subject because you emerge from the back with a tray laden with food. There's even a side of fried tofu—not typically part of his order. You must have seen him looking because you hurriedly explain, "The boss said you like tofu, so I just did some up. I hope that's ok." Osamu rolls his eyes and walks back to the kitchen, catching Kita's eye as he goes.

"S'just fine." Kita takes the tray. "But I'd like to repay ya."

"You don't have to do that! It's my pleasure." You try and reassure.

"Then it'd be my pleasure to make ya dinner some time. Could do it today, after the game if that's ok?"

As you fumble through saying yes, Shinsuke savors his first bite of food. Yeah, he could eat your cooking for the rest of his life he thinks. It would be a nice addition to his routine.

[invidiia]

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ "you're obsessed.." 𖤐 various bsd yanderes // reader.

bsd yanderes ada, pm, doa, hd + the jealousy scale.

[ a/n; hi i was bored and gotta feed the people bc my next big post is takin a bit 🏃‍♂️]

[ warning; jealous yanderes lolol ]

atsushi is a 6 of 10. definitely hides any jealous thoughts, at least until you're both home, but is absolutely bitter about it after

dazai is a fair 7 of 10. i don't have a lot to say about him, but he most definitely gets jealous easily

kunikida is a 5 of 10. when he's with you and you get hit spoken to by someone else, he just takes control of the situation and leaves with you. obviously against your choices, but he doesn't trust you.

ranpo is a 6 of 10. doesn't get too worried about other guys because he knows you wouldn't go for anyone else other than the greatest detective ever, but when another guy flirts with you, he just feels the need to.. step in.

yosano is a 7 of 10. she doesn't mind when others speak to you, as long as they aren't flirting with you, and that's a loose term with her. asking for directions in a large mall could get someone's fingers chopped off if she was in a particularly annoyed mood.

fukuzawa is a 4 of 10. he doesn't care if people talk to you either, but flirting is off the table with him. even so, he'll just leave the area and take you with him, he can't just let some other guy talk to you, are you crazy?

akutagawa is a 8 of 10. if someone's making small talk or something he doesn't care, but even speaking to you or looking at you for too long is just like asking for him to beat them senselessly.

chuuya is a 8 of 10. like akutagawa, small talk doesn't matter to him. you're socializing, who cares? but he's absolutely jealous of your friends, especially your close ones. strangers, he can beat the shit out of those, but your friends? he can't do anything there, so he just sits in silence.

higuchi is an 9 of 10. she hates when anyone else talks to you, she just can't stand it. she'll openly tell you how much she hates it when other people beside her 'flirt' with you, and makes you promise not to hurt her like that again.

gin is a 3 of 10. she does get jealous of other people like your closer friends, but doesn't act on anything, just sits in silence. maybe she'll express to you she was jealous, but she won't hurt anyone unless they make advances on you

tachihara is a 6 of 10. he does get jealous of your friends, but doesn't hate them. he just wants to be in their place. who says you should spend all your time with them? leave some room for him, won't you?

sigma is a 7 of 10. he won't make direct moves if he's jealous, he'll only tell you he's jealous afterward, or work behind scenes to get rid of the certain person he thinks talks to you a little too much for his liking.

fyodor is a 9 of 10. he doesn't think you'll talk to anyone else, it's about others talking to you. he just can't have you talking to anyone but him. why would you need to anyway?

nikolai is a 8 of 10. i don't have a whole lot to say about him either, but he's not afraid to be... himself,, if someone talks to you a little too much.

jouno is a 9 of 10. he knows you won't actually speak to other guys.. but still. he isn't chill when other guys talk to you, and gets worse when they eye you the wrong way,

tecchou is a 4 of 10. this man sees no reason to be jealous of your friends, or anyone who says they don't want you. why would they lie to him anyway? look at him, he's strong as hell. would you lie to him? didn't think so

[ a/n; sobs im so tired can you telllll ?? i only wrote doa trio bc.. fukuchi is strange, bram is just.. bram, plus i kinda only see him as platonic yandere loll, didnt do teruko cuz idk her actual age.. sorry this is so rushed lol its 2am i gotta go to beddd, but next post is dazai fr!!!!! ]

[mcumorningstar]

A Rose By Any Other Name || Part Two

part one part three

series pairing: tommy shelby x reader, hints of john shelby x reader, hints of tommy x lizzie

summary: After your interaction with Tommy, there is a rift between you and Lizzie but an apology and the Epsom Derby threaten to strain your friendship further.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, mentions of prostitution, mentions of sex, alcohol consumption, typical peaky blinders content, (slow burn sorry)

author’s note: Thank you to everyone who read part one and interacted! There's no smut just yet but be patient it's coming (and so are Tommy and reader ;) !!!) Also I picture Thelma to look like Queenie from Fantastic Beasts but interpret her however you please <3 Enjoy!

After the ordeal with the Shelby brothers, The Garrison felt off-limits. Lizzie wasn't exactly pleased when she found out, and so you and Thelma decided to spend the night at The Marquis of Lorne.

The Marquis was packed, wall to wall with rowdy men and women from the BSA. You weren't planning on working tonight but, if the right man came along, you were in no position to turn him down.

The only upside of the job is that you didn't work in a whorehouse. People, however cruel, were even crueller to whorehouse whores. There was a strange level of acceptance, as if the men soliciting you could forget you were a working girl because they met you in places they meet regular women.

"Apparently there's a secretary job going," Thelma looked around the room at the smartly dressed women, "At the BSA."

"Have you applied?" You asked, sipping your gin. Employment was a sore subject between the two of you. Nobody whores unless they're desperate.

Thelma shakes her head and fiddles with the placemat under her glass. She draws her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes fixed on the table.

"I wouldn't get it anyway."

"Why not? You can type, you can count, you're friendly-"

"I'm a whore," Thelma interrupted, amusement and hurt swimming in her eyes, "These women in here would be my colleagues. They don't think I'm worth the sheets I was born on... Sorry, we're supposed to be having fun."

Thelma blinked quickly and sat up straight, grinning, "Fuck it. Fuck them all."

She raised her glass and you met her toast.

"Fuck them all," You laughed, taking a large swig of your drink. The clear liquid burning your throat as you swallowed and exhaled.

Offering to get the next round of drinks, your attention was pulled by a heated argument by the bar. Two men in suits were subjected to verbal abuse from a drunken BSA worker.

One of them was a Blinder. You recognised him from The Garrison.

In a split second, fists were flying and knuckles were bloody. The Blinder and his friend were outnumbered but they held their own. Fruitlessly, the owner yelled from behind the bar for them to stop.

A table was knocked on its side as two men wrestled onto it and landed on the floor. Glass shattered somewhere in the room and the patrons of the bar tried to run.

Grabbing Thelma's hand, you yanked her to the exit. The crisp cold air of Small Heath seeped through your coat as you hurried towards Garrison Lane.

"Y/N?" Thelma asked once she realised the direction you were headed in.

"The Peaky Blinders need to know that two of their men are outnumbered," You replied, compelled by the power of the gangsters for the first time. They would fix this.

"What about Lizzie?" Thelma was now walking alongside you, matching you step for hurried step as you turned the corner.

The amber lights of The Garrison illuminated the pub and you rushed towards it like a moth to a flame.

Yanking the wooden door open, you pushed your way through the crowd, looking back to check Thelma was still with you. The door of the snug was open and three of the four Shelby brothers sat playing cards. Lizzie was tucked into the corner, chatting to Esme.

You lingered there for a moment before knocking lightly. All eyes turned to you, and Thelma gave a little wave. Lizzie's eyebrows shot up but she quickly neutralised her expression.

"Hello lovely," Arthur's voice boomed as he leaned back in his chair, "What do we owe the pleasure?"

"There's a fight at The Marquis. A Blinder and a boy. They didn't start it," You answered, the night's drinking deterring any nerves.

"But we'll finish it," John tossed his cards onto the table.

The three brothers got to their feet but Finn was shoved back into his seat.

"Nobody breathes a bloody word of this to Polly," Arthur threatened, his booming voice bouncing off the walls, "We will tell Tommy when he's back, alright?"

No Tommy? You assumed Lizzie turned down your offer tonight to spend her time with him. You were more confused than hurt, but the Blinder family was a family you had no desire to understand.

"When- When will Thomas be back?" You held your head high despite a wave of embarrassment rushing over you, "I owe him an apology."

"Don't know. Rich women are mad for working class cock these days," Arthur chuckles deeply, gulping down the contents of his glass and slamming it down, "I reckon he'll be back tomorrow."

Out of the corner of your eye, Lizzie shifts in her seat and straightens the skirt of her dress.

"I shall see you tomorrow then," You confirmed before the two men from The Marquis stepped into the snug, with scuffed knuckles and bloody collars. They smirk and grin at each other.

"We'll leave you," You nodded and disappeared out of the snug, back onto Garrison Lane.

Thelma giggled, "They certainly are intimidating."

You laughed a sigh of relief, surviving another interaction with the Shelby brothers. The door of The Garrison swiftly swung open and shut, as Lizzie joined you, pulling her coat on.

"Yeah yeah I'm a fool," Lizzie scoffed, sadness in her eyes.

"Who's the rich woman?" Thelma asked, hooking her arm around Lizzie's. Your eyes widened.

Lizzie lit a cigarette, "May Carleton. A toff who trains his horse. Rides his cock too. You don't have to apologise. I'm well shot of him."

Despite her foolishness when it comes to Thomas Shelby, you appreciated her forgiveness but there wasn't a world where you weren't going to apologise.

Three of the Shelby brothers witnessed your declaration and frankly you were afraid of the consequences of not following through.

The following afternoon you found yourself walking towards Shelby Company Ltd. There was a Blinder stood by the door, smoking a cigarette.

"Hello. I'm here to see Mr Shelby. Is he here?" You asked the gruff-looking man, who looked you up and down. Making his decision, he pushed the door open, eyes not leaving your body.

Being a whore really does get you in anywhere.

Inside was a foyer with gorgeous paintings decorating the walls and another set of double doors with Shelby Company Ltd embossed on the frosted glass.

With no sense of direction, you pushed through the double doors to find a few steps leading you down to two desks, facing one another.

"Y/N?" Lizzie's brow furrowed as she rose from her desk to greet you at the bottom of the steps, "What you doing here?"

"I promised Arthur and John I'd apologise. Is he here?" You winced.

"They won't cut you," Lizzie smiled, laughing softly, "He just got back. Oh, this is Michael, he's Polly's son."

Lizzie motioned to the desk opposite hers. The boy from The Marquis sat behind the large desk in a clean, pressed suit.

"Hello Michael, I'm Y/N," You reached for his outstretched palm and shook his hand.

"I remember," Michael smiled, youthful mischief danced in his eyes, "Thanks for the help last night."

"You looked like you needed the help," You joked, pulling a laugh from him.

"Alright, Tommy isn't paying you to flirt with my friend," Lizzie teased, guiding you to the doors of Thomas' office and knocking. After a moment, she pushed the door open and you followed her in.

"Y/N to see you," Lizzie announced, leaving you alone with him before he could respond. Thomas sat behind his desk, staring at the phone with a cigarette hanging from his lips.

The door closing jolted him from his reverie and he moved an opened envelope into the top drawer of his desk. Thomas cleared his throat and looked to you, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"Take a seat, Miss Y/L/N," His gravelly voice rumbled from deep in his chest, motioning to a chair opposite with his hand.

Sitting in the plush leather chair opposite him, you crossed your legs and braced yourself under his burning gaze.

"Drink?" He nodded to the glass decanter of whiskey on his desk, an already half-full glass sat beside it. Thomas rose to his feet and rounded the desk, retrieving another glass from a cabinet by the window.

Finding your words, you nodded, "Yes. Thank you Mr Shelby." Maybe a drink in your system would loosen you up.

A soft scoff fell from the man's lips as he poured whiskey into your glass, pushing it across his desk towards you and collapsing into his chair.

"None of that, alright?" He stubbed out his cigarette in a glass ashtray, the smoke floating in the air in one wispy streak.

You sipped your whiskey and swallowed hard, "Of course Mr- Thomas. I stopped by to apologise... about the other night. You went out of your way to help me and it was wrong of me to- to slam the door in your face. So I'm sorry Mr- Thomas."

Thomas' blue eyes scrutinised you as silence hung in the air between you. Fiddling with the glass in your hand, you cleared your throat and ruminated over your apologetic words.

Worry washed over you as you entertained the possibility that he didn't accept your apology.

"Would- Would you accept a drink on me by way of apology?"

Thomas' head tilted to one side at that. A small smile toyed at the corner of his lips. You shifted in your seat under his gaze.

"That won't be necessary," He shook his head once and the metallic click of his cigarette case opening sounded in the space between you. He ran a fresh cigarette along his plump lips, deep in thought for a moment.

"Have you ever been to the races, Y/N?"

Your brows shot up and your breath caught in your throat. Was he asking what you thought he was?

You shook your head and Thomas nodded, "I'll pick you up Saturday 9 o'clock."

Was this his was of accepting your apology? A favour for a favour? You weren't going to get on his bad side a second time and so, with confusion and apprehension, you agreed.

"I don't have anything nice to wear," You shyly admitted, a weak attempt to save yourself from further involvement with the Shelbys.

Admittedly, you were intrigued by the man before you. It brought a sense of shame but there was something captivating about the Peaky Blinders, especially Thomas Shelby.

Thomas reached into his pocket and thumbed through a sizeable roll of notes. He set two notes onto the table and tapped his index finger against the paper. Okay so you were definitely going to the Epsom Derby.

"9:00 Saturday, alright?"

"Yes Mr Sh- Thomas."

"Since we're going to Epsom together, you can call me Tommy, eh?" A small smirk tugged at the corner of his pink lips as he leaned back in his chair.

"Of course. I'll see you on Saturday Tommy," You smiled politely and made your leave. Anxiety rose within you as you passed Lizzie's empty desk, anticipating her reaction to your alarming news.

Wondering how you were going to tell her the man she loves is taking you to the races, you hurried out of the building and headed home.

You've only encountered Thomas Shelby on two separate occasions and it was clear that he was going to be the death of you.

[luimagines]

Oh OH!

what about a contiuation of the ravio fake dating scenario where they finally get their second date or something? Just really fluffy.

Absitively posulutely!! You got it! More Ravio coming up!

Masterlist

Part 1

Content under the cut!

"I get to choose this time."

That's what he told you and then gave you no more information.

He didn't say how you should dress, what time he'd pick you up- even what day it would be! Who does that!?! This is supposed to be an agreed upon arrangement beforehand! What if you ended up booked when he eventually chose the date because he didn't give you enough time to plan your schedule. You have a job too you know!

It... may not be as impressive as the Queen's Advisor... Or running your own business... On second thought, maybe he was just busy. He is rather difficult to get in touch with when you're not face to face. Maybe you should have given him the benefit of the doubt.

Unless he forgot entirely.

Admittedly, that would hurt worse.

Even if weren't exactly close to begin with, you'd think that first date went great! Better than great actually. Maybe you're remembering it in splendor because Ravio threw a glass of gin at your ex's face without a second thought and you had danced with wild abandon and you kissed him-

Uh oh... had you scared him off?

No, you couldn't have. It was his idea to have a second date to begin with.

You rub your face harshly and figure you might as well head out for a walk. It's a nice day and maybe some fresh air will clear your head. Maybe you're thinking too much on this. Overthinking will only make the problem worse. You open your door with a sigh and step out of the house. You nearly scream when you look up.

Ravio's there.

At your door.

With his hand up to knock.

"Oh perfect!" He cries gleefully, holding up a basket. "You're ready to go already."

"I- what?" You blink and gasp when Ravio steps closer to you, hooking your arm in his and begin to lead you off.

"Let's go!"

"Ravio wait!" You dig your heels in and stall. "What do you think you're doing? You didn't send a letter- You didn't let me know anything- What if I was going to something else? You can't just steal me away!"

"Are you?" Ravio tilts his head, his dumb bunny hood getting in the way of reading his facial expressions.

You hesitate. "Well... no. But it's the principle of the thing!"

He seems to also hesitate. "...Ok... That's fair. But! I've heard through the grape vine that it's been a hard week at your job. I thought it would be nice if we took it easy for our next date."

"Wait- how did you know that?" You frown slightly. He was right, of course, but you didn't think your job would even be on his radar.

Somehow, you get the impression that he's blushing. "I went to your work place, hoping to talk to you. Which was a bad idea- I know. But a coworker was too busy to even get to me so I figured... Well, I had to do something."

You bite your lip. Realistically, you should be mad. This isn't how it should work. "You should have at least sent a letter or something. I would have liked to get ready for our date, you know?"

"Why? You're already perfect." Ravio takes your hand again and begin to lead you away. "This way!"

His words stun you, and you numbly follow him into a small trail into the woods. You recognize this place. He's taking you to the nearby lake.

"Just let me have this one indulgence." Ravio says as you brings you to the lake side. "I've always liked the idea of a surprise date. But for future reference, I will talk to you."

You gulp and nod. "Thank you."

Ravio lets you go and starts to set up a small blanket that he takes out of the basket. "This was a little harder than I anticipated to put together so forgive me it's not what you thought it would be."

He takes out the food from the party.

Or at least food that is similar to the food from the party. The fancy stuff. Gourmet, if you know what I mean.

"Ravio..." You sit on the blanket as you watch in wonder. "Where did you get this?"

"I have my connections." He flips off his hood and gives you a charming smile. "I remembered that you didn't get to try the party food. I thought that it was a wasted opportunity."

You already feel your mouth watering. "....This is already fancier than I thought?"

"A picnic by the lakeside?"

"Ravio, you brought lobster!"

"And I wouldn't change a thing!" He protests, opening up a container. "Here try the dessert first."

"Really?"

"Why not?"

[amostimprobabledream]

Bleach Characters Who Are Into Choking

Loosen your grip before I choke~ (Warning for some mild dubcon in the last one.)

Yumichika Ayasegawa

This may be surprising, but Yumichika finds something terribly aesthetic about choking. The eroticism of it, the glassy sheen in your eyes, the way his delicate hands look wrapped around your neck…

Unlike other examples on this list, there's no danger of passing out or Yumichika getting overexcited and forgetting his own strength. He's a passionate lover but he doesn't like to cause too much pain or discomfort, even if you're enthusiastically egging him on - a little neck squeezing is mostly all you're going to get.

He likes being choked too, he makes sure to do it prettily, throwing his head back to present the graceful arch of his throat to you, gasping thetrically and making a show of himself. Plus if you bruise him up, it gives him an excellent excuse to wear one of his many cute scarves! <3

Grimmjow Jeagerjaquez

This shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone - Grimmjow is rough, aggressive and dominant and that's only refocused and enchanced in the bedroom. He doesn't think kinks are something that needs to be hidden or danced around - if he feels like squeezing that pretty little neck, he'll do it. It's actually one of his go-to moves he likes to do, so you can expect choking to be a regular occurrence unless you make it crystal clear to him it's off the table.

He fucking loves it, loves the fluttering of your pulse against his fingers, the little gasps, the way your body writhes helplessly beneath him…

It sends his predator instincts into overdrive. He normally has excellent control over his strength but he really has to remind himself not to put too much pressure on your delicate little windpipe. He likes to tease you with it too - like a cat will bat around a mouse and then watch it while it's stunned, he'll pin you down by the neck and tighten and loosen his grip over and over, watching you splutter for air whenever he gives you a reprieve.

Cirucci Sanderwicci

Just look at her, you know this girl is into BDSM and kinks that fall under that umbrella. She differs a little in how she likes to choke you though - she puts that whip of her to good use. Especially if you're bigger than her, she doesn't want to worry about her smaller hands not being up to the job. Also she likely just got her nails done!

She's got very good command of her whip and using it like a leash just feeds into her ego. Seeing any marks on your throat afterwards gives her an extra arousal boost and you might notice her fidgeting in place as she observes you.

Though she's got a sadistic streak a mile wide, Cirucci is also up for being dominated. She won't ask that you choke her, but if you surprise her with it then she'll gasp and arch her back. It's a little difficult for her to let her guard down and be submissive but once she does it's quite a rush. She looks good with a hand around her neck too, her lips parted as she struggles for breath. Don't go easy on her or she'll get offended you think she can't take it.

Gin Ichimaru

Of course this bastard-coated bastard likes to choke you out. Those long fingers of his practically beg to grip your neck - they fit so naturally well you'd think he was created with that very intention in mind. He likes to take his time with it too, slowly increasing the pressure over time until you've got black spots dancing in your vision.

He likes to bring you just to the edge of unconsciousness before he equally slowly relinquishes his grip, likes watching the lucidity return to your eyes like you're waking up from a dream. His favourite move is choking you just as you're about to come, watching you gasp in his hold as your orgasm crashes into you as you adjust to the lack of oxygen. When he first did it you thought you were going to implode.

Don't bother trying to cover up the marks on your neck either - Gin takes pride in the proof of the act. If you're wearing a scarf he'll kiss your neck and tug it off while you're distracted, or lick away concealer. He's such a shit.

Kenpachi Zaraki

Kenpachi's whole hand can wrap around the entirety of your neck, it's inevitable that he can't resist giving a little squeeze. He prefers to do it in little sharp bursts - prolonged choking can get a little boring, since holding you still with just his hand is child's play. Instead he'll simply press down without telling you when, and for a brief second it's like all the air has vanished, before it's abruptly back again. He especially likes to do this when you're riding him.

He knows how strong he is, though, so he's slightly more inclined to be careful. Snapping your neck mid-fuck would be a bit of a buzzkill. He'll massage your throat afterwards with his long, powerful fingers.

If you want to choke him, he'll laugh at you and tell you to go ahead! You have to wrap two hands around his throat and act like you're throttling him to get your money back for him to feel much of anything. He loves it, the look of concentration on your face, the feel of your nails digging into his skin. He'll egg you on, too. "Yeah? You wanna choke me out? That the best you got, baby?"

Nnoitra Gilga

You are a brave, possibly stupid, soul if you want the praying mantis to choke you. Nnoitra's hands are just as spindly as the rest of him, but he's got some freakish strength that belies his frame. He will slam you against the wall and crush your windpipe until you black out.

Another one who does it instinctively and he'll laugh at you if you beg him to stop or slow down. He doesn't really do gentle, so he doesn't know why you think this would be any different. He especially likes fucking you while you're semi or outright unconscious - you waking up to his cock rutting in and out of you gives him a thrill, like even oblivion won't spare you from his lust.

Likes to trace his fingerprints on your neck and smirks at your bloodshot eyes. Choking him back is very difficult to do with his hierro, but you could still repay the favour by trying to smother him while he's sleeping. He'll make you pay, but it will be worth it. Hollow Ichigo

Now, Ichigo doesn't really go in for choking. He prefers to be sweet to you during the nasty, even if he will get rougher as he gets more excited, so he'd be very hesitant to choke you.

But THIS motherfucker right here? He LOVES it. Lives for it. He could get himself off solely by pinning you down by the throat and watching your hands scrabbling at him, eyes widening and your feet kicking. He loves it. Loves making you so helpless and cute beneath your king~

He likes to press the pad of his thumb against a certain dip in your throat, leaving a little circular bruise right in the centre where it's hard to cover up. He loves the thought of you washing your face and catching a glimpse of it in the mirror, knowing it's a seal, a promise of a repeat performance.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for a @astrangersummer.

Of All the Gin Joints

Week #17 Prompt: "I can't believe you!" | Word Count: 1938 | Rating: T | POV: Nancy | Characters: Nancy, Robin, Steve, Eddie | Relationships: Ronance, Steddie, Past Mentions of Stancy, Fruity Four | CW: Language, Alcohol Consumption | Tags: Future Fic, Bisexual Nancy Wheeler, Old Friends, And Maybe New Love, Getting Together, First Kiss

Nancy lets her eyes adjust to the darkness and flashing lights of the club. It's not exactly her comfort zone. But she watches as the men, and the women, move to the beat of the music that's bouncing the speakers, thumping so hard she can feel it in her chest. 

She's never been anywhere like this, not really. It's not exactly her scene, never has been. 

So, she finds a spot to stand in the corner, leaving a buffer, so she can take it all in. She always needs to study first, she never just dives face-first into anything. Unless it's an emergency. And this? Not an emergency.

This is just an unknown, an exploration of her sexuality that might be coming later than most. She thinks she should have done this sooner. Maybe not the club part, but the acting on her interest in women. But she didn't. Not the women, and definitely not the club, so now she'd like to know more before deciding to be all in on being a club-going person, especially at her age. 

Watching, it's clear that everyone seems to be having a really fucking good time, and aren't paying any attention to her clinging to the shadows, like a wallflower.

She's about to maybe make a move more towards the center of the action, when she catches a glimpse of a familiar smile, and she steps to the side to see better, to clear her sightline, to really make sure. And, yes, it is Robin, bouncing, laughing, dancing with a guy, seemingly having a hell of a good time. 

It's not Steve, this guy is far too short, and it isn't until he turns that she realizes it's Gareth. He's just chopped off all his curls, which she thinks is kind of a shame.

But, beyond that, she knows if Gareth's here, that means Eddie's here, and if Eddie's here, well...there he is. Steve Harrington, bouncing, hair flying, looking twenty instead of over forty. 

Looking free.

And happy. Really, really happy.

She hasn't seen any of them in person in years, only recently watching from afar on the new Facebook thing that she was bullied into joining by Dustin. She's not too mad about it, since it means she gets to see pictures of all her old friends, and gets to know that they're doing okay out in the world, living their lives. At least when she remembers to login and check.

Nancy hasn't decided if she's going to approach them or not. This is new to her, and while she knows they'd be supportive and fun and totally in her corner, she was really only looking to dip her toes in, not plunge headfirst.

But she doesn't get to decide, because Robin's caught sight of her and is waving frantically, with an enthusiasm only Robin can muster. She's missed her, she realizes. Missed all of them.

She sees Robin turn and yell in the other direction, hands flailing, nearly hitting those around her.

She hasn't changed a bit. 

So, Nancy waves back, and heads her way. She's kind of glad the decision was made for her. It's easier that way, and she gets to see Robin.

When Nancy approaches, Steve is suddenly there, picking her up and swinging her around so hard, she feels her back pop. She's not sixteen, not anymore, but he doesn't seem to have gotten that message as he squeezes her against him, before finally putting her back on her feet but still doesn't let go.

"I can't believe you! You're here!" Steve says, smiling wide and so fucking happy. 

He's glowing. 

There's a ring through his eyebrow, and tattoos crawling up his arm, and yet, he looks exactly the same, somehow. Just really, really happy and all grown up.

It's a good look on him. Honestly.

He giggles, squeezing both of her arms, "Nancy Wheeler."

She almost corrects him, but it is Wheeler again. Her divorce was finalized and she took her own name back, and she doesn't expect she'll ever give it up again. It's who she is, and she kind of hates that she ever forgot that. 

"Where's Eddie?" Nancy asks, leaning towards Steve's ear, trying to be heard over the music.

"The bar!" Steve screams back, and she looks that way, expecting to see him in line for drinks, but he's behind the bar. Putting on a show, as always.

It's a little mesmerizing. But Eddie Munson always was, for better or worse. He had an unique skill for capturing an audience and refusing to let them go.

Steve wraps his arms around her neck from behind, forcing her to walk in front of him, leading her right towards Eddie.

"Look who I found!" Steve shouts and Eddie grins, leaning up on and over the bar to cup her cheek, kissing the other one.

"Hey, Wheeler. What can I get you?" Eddie asks, waving his arm down the bar in a sweeping fashion.

She isn't sure, so she lets him pick, and he gets to work, sliding and twirling, dragging the bottle upwards as he pours, and she grins. He was made for this, she's pretty sure. Putting a show, holding an audience.

She hadn't realized he was a bartender, but she crawls up on an open bar stool, to watch him work. She expects that Steve will sit down next to her, but instead he walks around behind the bar, and kisses Eddie before he makes himself a drink. It's not as impressive as watching Eddie do it, but it's definitely not Steve's first time behind a bottle either, that's for sure. 

"Do you own this bar?" she yells, and they both nod.

Of all the gin joints in all the world, she happened to stumble into theirs.

It really is a small world after all. 

She hadn't heard they'd bought a bar. She must be more behind on that Facebook thing than she thought. Or they've owned longer than Facebook has been a thing, and it was old news she'd just missed out on hearing. She'll have to ask Dustin, or Mike. Get filled in on what they know.

"It's great!" she screams back, and it is. It's a little loud, a little overwhelming, but it seems like a really fun atmosphere. 

They both smile, and Steve is holding his own drink, and Eddie leans over putting the finishing touches on it. Then Steve's back across the bar, sitting next to her.

"You're here by accident?" Steve shouts to be heard, and she nods. She heard about the queer friendly bar, that wasn't really a club exclusively for young people, and it looked like something she might want to check out, now that she's open to exploring that side of herself.

She should have known she'd be drawn right to Steve, the only other bisexual person she really knows. That's just how these things work with them. There are no accidents. They've all been tied together for a long, long time, even as they've drifted and lived their own, separate lives.

They try to talk over the music, but it's impossible, and Steve takes her by the hand and leads her behind the bar, and into an office. He closes the door, and the sound is suddenly gone. Silenced. 

"Soundproofed?" she asks, sitting down on the couch.

Steve nods, "I still get headaches sometimes. It gives me a place to go to get away from the noise if I need to, without having to go all the way home."

"Smart. That's smart," she says, looking around. There are pictures lining the walls, filled with tons of familiar faces.

"It was Eddie's idea," Steve says, grinning, "he just wants me to be comfortable."

Then he smiles a different smile, a softer one, "And nearby."

Nancy smiles back at him, happy he's happy.

"He looks good, by the way," Nancy says, "really good. You both do. Robin, too."

Steve just smiles, because he knows that's true. Time has been kind to them, all of them, it seems.

"Gareth should have kept those curls, though," she teases.

"Don't tell him that, it's a sore spot," Steve says with a grin.

"Mum's the word," she promises.

Then the door opens and closes, Robin sliding inside. She bounces up and down, clapping her hands, "Nance! I can't believe you're here!"

Nancy stands up, and hugs her. Robin isn't as awkward as she was at eighteen. But she's still got that funky style that Nancy's always been a little jealous of, if she's totally honest. That innate ability to just be herself.

Steve is standing there smiling, and then says, "I'll let Robin show you around and catch you up. Eddie'll cry around if I skip out on helping him."

Nancy knows that's not true. Eddie Munson worships the ground Steve Harrington walks on, and has since 1986. At first it felt like Nancy was losing something that she might want again someday, and wanted to bristle up at Eddie. Claim her territory. 

But she quickly saw how Steve looked back at Eddie. She knew that look, and well, and she was happy for him, even if it was kind of hard to let that door close for good.

By the time they all went their separate ways, it was pretty obvious Steve and Eddie were in it for the long haul, and probably would always be. 

And here they are, still together, and they still look fucking happy.

She's not surprised one bit.

And good for them. She isn't sure what it would be like to pick right the first time. She's picked wrong twice now, and she's not excited to do it again.

Women. She might try women for a while. Forget all about men for a stretch and see how that feels, how it goes.

Robin is sitting next to her, and as soon as the door closes behind Steve, leaving them in quiet again, Robin's asking a million questions.

Always curious, Robin.

Nancy answers them. Mike's good. Three kids that act just like he did, which he definitely had coming. 

Robin catches her up on everybody she's still close with that Nancy hasn't seen in a while, and it's nice. Comfortable, like no time has passed.

"You want another drink? Dance? Some food? Anything?" Robin offers.

"Yes," Nancy says, and hell, she thinks she might want it all.

Another couple drinks in, they are bouncing around the dance floor as much as their middle-aged knees will allow, when Nancy reaches forward to brace herself against Robin's hip.

She didn't mean anything by it, but the sudden shift on Robin's face is telling another story. 

Oh shit.

Okay, yeah. That. 

She steps forward, and Robin meets her halfway. Lips pressing against hers in a way that she only barely let herself think about, in a time gone by. The curiosity was there, down deep, back when they were just getting close. But Nancy didn't know how to define it, how to understand it within herself.

She does now.

Robin's hand slides up her back, pressing between her shoulder blades, as she kisses her in a way Nancy's never been kissed. Not by anyone, maybe. 

She should have known. She should have realized that this is what she was looking for, missing, late to understanding.

When Robin pulls back, she smiles, and Nancy smiles back, her heart beating hard against her chest. 

She wants to do it again. 

So she does, leaning up, pressing her lips to Robin's one more time, eager to see where this can go from here.

Hopeful, and excited.

Ready.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @astrangersummer and follow along with the fun!

[lit3rallyll0yd]

Haii! :D may i please request chuuya, dazai and any characters of your choice; with an s/o who is super quiet and socially awkward unless they’re alone?

Like, they barely say anything in public or when there’s other people around, but when they are alone with their partner they are very talkative and open,

๋࣭ ⭑ socially awkward. bsd x reader

gender: gender neutral

type: headcanons

warnings: lowercase writing

characters: dazai and chuuya

๋࣭ ⭑ dazai osamu 🩹

doesn't try to get you to open up to others

however, that doesn't mean he won't tease you about being like this.

he realized this as you two were talking alone, until the rest of the agency walked by and you suddenly went quiet. others kinds butted in on your guys conversation.

he didn't mention it to you, but he had it on his mind for a while.

real quick he realized you were socially awkward...and thats okay!

he actually loves how open you are with him and that your comfortable to talking to him.

when your in big crowds you tend to stay close to him.

teases you and calls you, "lost puppy trying to find its master"

you had a blush on your face everytime you were in the same room with him for the past four days...

if anyone else were to get to close to you face, or to try and force you to talk, he's stepping in and dragging you away from the drama.

you both have your own inside jokes because of how much you talk to him, leaving others in utter confusion.

"what if i talk to them with you? would that help?"

no matter what you said, he's willing to hep<3

ends with you kinda hiding into his jacket, or straight up leaving without him noticeing...

lets be real, he notices but doesn't have enough energy to run after you, so he strikes up a conversation with said person.

in the end, he finds you in the room...writing, reading, watching tv, whatever you may be doing- dazai kisses your forhead and praises you from trying you best...although, he kinda was just trying to make you feel better

๋࣭ ⭑ chuuya nakahara 🍷

noticed how quiet you get when others are around you almost instantly, which made him question how you got into the port mafia in the first place

you must'v sparked someone's eye...because damn your shy!

to his surprise, you confess your love to him first, which wasn't a surprise you were barely trying to hide it.

hiding your face around him, running away, or straight up ghosting him.

when you started to tak to him more..more laugh, to joke, to yell with him more..it made him feel like you two had something special.

however, i feel like he would 100% try to help you speak more around other people.

no matter how much you try to run away from others, he is stubborn and won't stop...

if you get too overwhelmed and panicked when he keeps doing this, he will stop.

last thing he wants is to make you mute around him, or worse...leave him.

which, can we be honest, will you ever?

if you don't really feel upset when he does this, he will literally lock you in a room with two people, lets say these two people would be tachihara and gin.

you were just...silent.

you didn't even say hi, you were kinda shaken...they tried to strike up conversations with you, but you ended up running away.

"Y/N- ug- BABE! I'M TRYING TO HELP YOU- DON'T YOU DARE LOCK YOURSELF IN THE BATHROOM- uuuuuugg- you're lucky i love you-"

dude can easily just use his gravity to open the door, but he thinks its best for you to let yourself out when your ready.

throw's people into space if they think they can force you to talk by grabbing you, hitting you, or yelling at you.

they've had a death wish.

he's willing to be patient with you, as long as you don't give up so easily.

man, i guess he would lose patience with me reeeeal quick- LOL

[seat-safety-switch]

Like it or not, we live in someone else's distant future. When our ancestors were stacking mud on top of mud, shitting in holes, and wondering why the sky was so scary all the time, they didn't expect that one day we'd be complaining about the poor quality of wi-fi reception. Lasers are right out, unless you're that one Aztec dude who got everything eerily correct before mysteriously disappearing.

You might think that this sort of thought is inspirational. We should simply be happy with what we have. I say no: we could have much cooler shit. Centuries from now is hoarding all the rad stuff. Imagine what incredible advance in technology the people of the future will be complaining about! We can't even fathom the kinds of annoying problems they'll have with holo-printers, much less the billions of new sorts of cables they need to purchase $10 adapters for because they brought the wrong kind to Mars and it's kind of a long trip to head back to your apartment to get the one you know you already have.

Someone with some better physics chops would be ginning up a time machine right around now. That way, anguished folks waiting in line at Geek Squad in the 2300s can angrily hurl their broken garbage back to our time. Then we can take it apart! Note that I didn't say "figure out how it works." Between you and me, I don't really care how it works. I just want to see what it looks like inside.

Wait, in the future they'll probably have new kinds of screwdrivers. I don't want any of that nonsense. If you are building a time machine at my say-so, fucking stop it. Unless it only goes in reverse, in which case I've got an old inkjet printer that I'm sure some dude in the 1530s would love to fix instead of me.

[ravarui]

The wedding of the century! (excerpt of the vanity fair october 2023) Ladies and Gentlemen, it is happening! As stated in their latest shared press conference, Tony Stark and Pepper Potts are finally going to tie the knot! Not many details have been revealed, but it's expected to be a grand celebration with exclusive guests from all parts of the universe. We will update you about every single detail. Until then, congratulations to the Iron couple.

What is happening?@alyafae and I have been talking and decided it was time to revive this event and share it with everyone, as it depicts a very important point in the lives of our muses. It's only appropriate to share it and involve you all in the upcoming shenanigans. The event isn't bound to a certain date, see it as a verse based around the wedding celebrations. It's not restricted to the party itself, but everything around it as well, like bachelor/bachelorette parties, general wedding preperations and so on.

How do you receive an invitation? By simply liking this post and being mutuals with either @alyafae or me (@ravarui).

The event is crossover-friendly! Your muse doesn't need to have a marvel verse to be able to participate, nor do we need to have been interacting before. Just being mutuals with one of us is enough.

If you're mutuals with @alyafae you'll receive threads/starters from her Pepper Potts for your muse. If you're mutuals with me, you'll receive threads/starters from my Tony Stark muse. If you're mutuals with us both, you'll receive double the love and be considered a special guest.

The bride and groom: Ms Virgina "Pepper" Potts @alyafae Mr Anthony "Tony" Edward Stark @ravarui

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

With All That I Am

Billy Russo x Female Reader

Part 7 of my Accidentally on Purpose Series

Warnings: Hospitals, injury recovery, cockwarming, oral (f receiving), angst, hurt/comfort.

SIX MONTHS AGO

There's something about Dominic Saintclair that Billy had never liked.

He could never put his finger on it. Maybe it was the pretentiousness of his actions, the way he looked like he'd never had a hard day in his life, the lackadaisical way he treated things as if they were replaceable.

The way he didn't understand that the most valuable thing he had, was the one thing he was mistreating right now.

"I swear, she doesn't know when to leave me alone." Dominic says loudly in the opulent bar, a place that was more red velvet seats and accented gold ornaments than anything else. It was somewhere Billy brought the clients he could impress easily, ones that didn't understand what the best brand of gin for a negroni was, or that whiskey shouldn't be served with ice. It was simply a place that glittered, gorgeous on the surface with no real substance... or character... not unlike the man in question.

Billy looks down at Dominic's cloned phone. All you had said was that you hoped he was having fun. 

"Maybe you're just not fucking her enough." One of his friends joke.

"Oh fuck off. I fuck her more than enough, maybe that's why she's so needy." It gets a round of laughter from his friends, and a disgusted frown from Billy.

At the bar, only a few tables away, Billy's hand tightens on his glass of whiskey, his back is to the group, and he's positioned in a dark enough corner to be unnoticed while still being able to hear the conversation.

"Anyways, enough about that, finish telling me about the red head." Dominic says, and Billy is forced to listen to him talk about other women when he has the best one.

Billy thinks about how stupidly simple it would be to kill your boyfriend, but doing it now would create more problems. You wouldn't know how much of an asshole he really was, for starters, you'd probably convince yourself that you'd been deeply in love with him before his untimely death. People tended to put dead loved ones on a pedestal, forgiving them unless their crimes were truly heinous. 

No, you had to see Dominic for his true colours first. Then, and only then, he would wipe your stain of a boyfriend from the earth.

Billy listens to Dominic say some more vile things, fully understanding his hatred for the man now. Dominic was manipulative, showing you one face, and yet secretly thinking something else behind your back. With a frown, he scrolls through your older messages.

You always seemed to be reaching for him, supportive of the things he said. He never voiced his support for you in return. 

What a fucking waste of space. To have someone as precious as you, and to take you for granted.

If he had you... he'd worship you. Without a doubt, Billy would kiss every inch of your skin, kneel at your feet if you asked, kiss you at every waking moment.

When another text comes in from you, he smiles.

As predicted, you text a second time after you've seen his read receipts and no response has come in from your idiot boyfriend.

'Are you alright?' You text.

The corner of Billy's mouth lifts, he wishes you were sending texts like this to him.

Dominic responds.

'Yes. I'm fine. Stop bothering me.'

Billy's smile drops.

You don't respond, but you see the message. He knows that you're hurt by it.

Billy's thoughts go violent again.

Anonymously, Billy has bought round after round of shots for the men, until they're wasted, and their lips are loose and he can soak in all the information possible. He plots while he listens, and he learns so much, until he could pick apart any man there in his sleep.

Their numbers dwindle, until it's just two men there, and he waits patiently for Dominic to stand on inebriated feet and head off to the bathroom.

Billy knows that Dominic is barely functional right now, having taken shot after shot, Billy is aware that Dominic will not remember any bit of whatever is happening right now.

With that information, he texts Dominic's companion from the cloned phone.

'Feeling better now, ordered an Uber, you can go ahead without me.'

Billy watches his friend read the text, finish his drink and then leave.

Too easy.

Dominic is so far gone that when he returns to his seat, he barely notices that his friend's things are gone, and Billy acts fast to stop Dominic from realising that anything is amiss.

"Saintclair." Billy greets, whiskey in hand, looking around to make sure that no one is looking, "Drinking all by yourself?" 

Dominic looks up at Billy and squints.

"Mister Russo?"

Billy hums the affirmative.

"Got room for company?" The words are bitter in his mouth.

Billy doesn't wait for an answer, pushing the inebriated man deeper into the booth and sliding into the space next to him. He hates this place, literally just designed for showing off, he glances at Dominic, who's lost in his own head, staring at his drink.

Nothing this man was thinking could ever be worth your time.

He raises his hand to the bartender, calling for another round of shots.

Dominic only has time to adjust his body, from his slumped, hazy demeanour, to appear like someone with all their critical thinking skills functional.

Billy spikes the drink with a little bit of melatonin, it's more than enough at Dominic's current level of intoxication.

"Wasn't drinking by myself, but the rest of guys have already left." Dominic slurs, and Billy raises his eyebrows, extending the spiked shot to the already drunk man.

He gives Dominic the opportunity to decline the shot, doesn't force it into his hands, just holds it out expectantly and watches the younger man choose his own self-destruction.

He kind of delights in it, the anarchy he's capable of. Each person has a role to play and it's always nice when they do it as expected.

Dominic throws back the shot with him and internally, Billy begins his internal stopwatch.

"I hope the job's treating you well." Billy hums, uncaring of what the man next to him has to say. He just has to make small talk for fifteen minutes, before the drug kicks in.

Billy asks about some of his coworkers, and then his phone pings, alerting him to a message. 

"Clingy." Is all Dominic has to say, looking at his phone when Billy inquires casually.

His eyebrows raise, watching his employee yawn, the drug beginning to take effect.

"If you don't like her that much, then why are you with her?" Billy asks, trying to keep the anger out of his tone.

"Why not?" Is the last thing Dominic says before he slumps over onto the table, asleep.

Billy blinks, an angry sneer growing on his face. What a careless piece of shit. He reaches for Dominic's phone, unlocks it and opens your messages the way he's done a hundred times before.

'At least tell me you're okay.' You'd texted.

"Prick." Billy swears, typing out a message to you on Dominic's phone.

'I'm alright sweetness, just getting ready to go home.' After a moment, he sends another message.

'I'm sorry about that last message, you don't bother me.'

He finds himself smiling when your text bubbles appear almost immediately.

'That's alright! I understand that you probably just wanted some time with your friends.' You say.

You were so quick to forgive, it made Billy's heart sour with the thought that Dominic didn't deserve your forgiveness.

'How was your night?' He asks, smiling fondly when he gets a picture of you wearing a fluffy robe and face mask.

'Very pretty, baby.' He replies, which earns a little '😳' face in response.

How sweet you were, saccharine and sticky, Billy could find himself eating you up quite easily.

'I mean it. I think you're fucking gorgeous.'

It takes a moment to get your response.

'How much have you had to drink exactly?'

Billy grits his teeth, looking over at the unconscious fuck. He barely ever tells you how pretty you are. It's why you think he's drunk now.

'A bit, but that doesn't make it any less true. You are beautiful.'

You don't respond immediately, Billy spends five minutes refreshing Dominic's phone until he gets a very shy 'Thank you,' in response.

He smiles, pockets Dominic's phone.

"Time to get you home, Saintclair." He says to the unconscious man.

He gets someone from the bar to help him get Dominic into the back seat of his car, uncaring of how he's placed, thanking the larger man with a hefty tip before getting into his car.

'You didn't tell me what you did today.' He sends before driving off.

He hears several different message notifications while he drives, and he can't help smiling, because for once, you were finally talking to him, and not as a stranger, but as someone familiar.

It was much harder to get Dominic to his apartment due to the lack of help he'd had from earlier, yet Billy made do with tossing the unconscious man over his shoulder, and then putting him down when they were in the elevator.

Billy really could have left Dominic anywhere, at the bar, or at the front steps to his apartment, or even at the door, with his keys in hand to have him wake up there in the morning horrified that he was so drunk he couldn't even make it inside.

But Billy drops Dominic on his bed instead, after accidentally bumping his head on a few door frames, he decides that he'd keep the drunk asshole safe this time...for you.

After, Billy sits in Dominic's living room, and opens up his phone once more.

'Okay, this doesn't mean anything but I went to a jewellery store today. I was looking at earrings and then I couldn't help looking at the engagement rings.'

Oh? Billy thinks.

'They were all shiny and even though I like shiny, they didn't feel like me you know? I feel like if we ever... uhhhh.... you know.... get married, I'd want something more unique you know?'

'Hello? Are you there? Did I scare you off? This isn't me asking for a wedding, I'm just saying.'

'Dominic?'

Billy sucks in a breath.

'I'm here, sorry, just got home.' he replies, tries to ignore the pain inside of him that worsens with the thought of you getting married to anyone other than him.

'Oh... Hi' you respond.

Billy smiles.

'Hi, do you have any ideas of what you think might be for you?'

He can almost see your excitement.

'Are you sure? If this is weird, you can say so.'

How cute, the way you care.

'I'd really like to see them.' He answers.

You send a link, and indeed, they're beautiful and unique and Billy can't help the thoughts of wearing it, and having you wear the other.

'These are the ones I've always dreamed of.' you add on with the attached pictures.

He bites down on his bottom lip, closes his eyes, and imagines how perfect your hands would look linked together, decorated with matching rings. The thought makes him hard.

'They have to be custom ordered though, really expensive, I'm sure we can find something cheaper.'

Absolutely not.

'They're beautiful. Tell me your ring size so that I can surprise you.'

He makes note of it when you send it.

'I can't wait to marry you.' He says.

'Well now I know you really are drunk.' You respond.

Billy has a quick moment of realisation when he remembers that you think you're talking to Dominic.

His smile drops.

'I am drunk. But you're still the most amazing person on the planet. I think you might be it for me.' And Billy means it. He means every word. He plans to marry this sweet girl that waltzed her way into his life and believed in him after two conversations.

'I love you.' Comes your reply.

Billy smiles.

'I love you too.' 

He stays with you until you fall asleep, telling you all the sweet things he's ever wanted to say, dodging personal topics that he doesn't know the answers to. When you're finally asleep, he stands, checks the time, and goes back to Dominic's room, dropping his phone onto the bed beside his sleeping form.

Billy almost considers hitting him, enjoying the thought of giving him a black eye in the morning, but that had the possibility of scaring him into not drinking again, and Billy couldn't have that.

So he leaves, walks out of your boyfriend's apartment, and does not set it on fire like he wants to. 

.

NOW

You stare calmly at the elevator doors. The smell of hospital filling the air around you. In a way, there was an ease to it, a comfort in the sterile cleanliness, a place designed to turn chaos into order.

You sip on your coffee, feeling refreshed after popping back home for a quick shower and supplies for Billy. You didn't want to leave, but you knew you wouldn't be able to stay while the nurses changed his bandages, the wound too fresh to introduce any foreign bacteria. So you'd decided to make yourself useful in the meantime.

Frank was still here somewhere, waiting for you to return so that he could leave. You'd both had tentatively agreed that Billy should not be left alone under any circumstance, surprised that you and his best friend had been on a similar wavelength when it came to caring for him.

Frank's in the waiting room taking a call when you see him. He gives you a little nod, and a gesture of his head that tells you it's okay to go see him.

You do exactly that, making your way to the nurses' station to sign in before heading to his room.

You stop short when at the door, you hear the sound of female laughter. 

It's not laughter exactly, it's... giggling.

It's obviously flirtatious, in that pitch that's just too high to be normal.

You hear Billy's voice next, too far away to make out what he's saying but he sounds polite.

Followed by more giggling.

Pure jealousy rears its head. 

You had only been gone for an hour and someone had taken the opportunity to begin flirting with your husband? 

Something dark blooms inside you, and you take a deep breath, and walk through the doors with your head high.

Two pairs of eyes turn to look at you.

"I'm back." You say calmly, smiling.

Billy smiles at you, his hair askew in every direction as if he hasn't ever heard of a brush. It's adorable, makes him look so much more boyish than usual. Your eyes go to the young nurse, that's currently taking Billy's blood pressure, quietly sizing her up, deciding if she was worth any sort of trouble at all.

"Hey baby, did you get one of those for me?" He asks, referring to the cappuccino in your hands.

You look down at him, close enough to see the tiredness under his eyes although you know this is the most amount of sleep he's ever gotten.

"Sorry, doctor said no." You respond.

Billy lets out a pained groan, and you can't help it, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on his temple.

He sighs, reaching up to take your hand in his, you watch his eyes linger on your wedding ring.

"I was just explaining to Becca here how easy it was to ignore the pain for so long."

Becca?

Your eyebrows raise in amused displeasure.

"Yeah," she adds in with a wistful smile, "If he didn't pass out from the pain he probably wouldn't have gotten help in time."

Great, a reminder that you weren't there when he'd almost died. You're pretty sure that the only expression you show her is one of disdain.

'Careful,' you think maliciously in her direction, 'If he likes you enough he'll cage you like a bird.'

"How are his vitals?" You ask blankly, trying to get her out of here as soon as possible, ignoring the way Billy looks up at you in confusion at your clipped tone.

"They're uh, they're good! But-" She begins to say, but stops short and presses the back of her hand to Billy's forehead. You blink, clenching your teeth together. You're pretty sure this wasn't medically professional, and you suck in a slow breath to stop yourself from smacking her hand away from your husband.

"Are you feeling okay Bil- Mister Russo? Your heart rate is a bit high." she continues.

You glance up at her monitor in question, and sure enough the little number on screen next to the pulsing heart symbol was just a little above one hundred.

You knew that his heart shouldn't be going at near a hundred beats per minute if he was mostly stationary in bed.

Billy lets out a nervous laugh. You look down at him in confusion.

"Yean, that's- I'm fine- It's just... well... her." He explains, glancing up at you for a second.

Me? You think incredulously, blinking.

His heart is beating fast because you were near him?

Your anger dissolves as fast as it had appeared, stomach fluttering, you try to fight the smile pulling at your face but you inevitably fail.

He doesn't look up at you, so you grip his jaw, tilting his head up.

Absentmindedly, you're aware of the nurse excusing herself from the room.

You press your lips to his swiftly, delight spreading down your body when he groans against your mouth. You deepen the kiss and he accepts it eagerly.

After a moment, you pause, turning your head to look at the little monitor, His heart rate having gone up to one hundred and twenty.

"Still jealous?" he asks, with a cheeky smile.

You don't answer, leaning in to kiss him softly once more.

. 

"Please." Billy begs.

"No." You whisper, bumping your nose against his, adjusting your body under the sheets so that you're both fully covered.

"Just a little bit." He tries to bargain.

"You move, and I'll stop. You cum, and I'll stop." 

He lets out a harsh breath.

"You're being really mean to me." He pouts.

"If you rip a stitch, I won't touch you until they come out."

He groans, frustrated.

Unable to resist, you clench around his cock.

"That's not fair." he gasps desperately.

"Sorry, this isn't entirely easy for me either."

Currently, you were both under his sheets, on your back, both legs draped over his hip, while he lies on his left side facing you. It was a position that had made it very easy for him to slip himself inside of you, allowing you to keep his cock warm. 

He swallows, looking at you with warm eyes.

"You feel so good around me. You know that?"

How was he allowed to say things like that while literally stretching you open? God, you could feel the tip of his cock nestled snugly in the very deepest parts of you, every inch of your cunt sighing in relief at finally being so full of him.

You feel yourself get smaller under his gaze, soft, gentle, unnameable in its unfamiliarity.

"If it feels half as good as it does for me, then yeah, I know." you reply easily.

He smiles, it causes butterflies to flutter in gentle circles within you.

"You're beautiful." he murmurs softly.

It's your turn to swallow and look away.

Your eyes are drawn to his bare chest, and the snake tattoo that resides on his shoulder. He could not be real with the way he made you feel, like all the air in the room had simply vanished by his command, held even further out of reach by the thickness of his cock sitting still inside you.

"You really mean that?" You ask, your insecurity gaining a foothold in your head.

He reaches for your left hand, raises it up to his face so that he can lay a swift kiss onto your wedding ring.

"I do." 

The door swinging open has your eyes widening from your shared spot under the sheets. Thankfully, you were still mostly clothed, where Billy was fully naked.

"Bill?" comes Frank's voice in question from his spot by the door.

Billy winks at you, before moving the sheet off your top halves to reveal you both to the open air.

"Hey Frank." Billy greets.

Frank takes one look at your positions and lets out a tired sigh.

"You two are fucking, aren't you?" The exasperated sound of his voice drawing a smile from you.

You can't help the laugh that leaves you, giving everything away. 

Frank's disappointed expression makes Billy laugh too.

"Alright. I'm walking out this door, I'll be back in five minutes, your pants better be on, Russo."

"Make it ten!" Billy shouts just as Frank gives another disappointed shake of his head, and leaves the room.

.

Clothed now, in long blue linen pants, Billy kisses your temple, one arm wrapped securely around you as you lie beside him.

"Thanks for being here with me." He says softly, his hands gripping onto any available part of you he could reach, anything to pull you closer to him.

"What? Is Frank not good enough company?" You tease, beginning to laugh when you feel the scratch of his beard as he kisses your throat.

"Frank is usually in the bed beside me." he says into your neck, and you laugh at the imagery.

"Plus," he says in a softer, more serious tone as he pulls away for a moment. You turn to look at him curiously.

"I've never had someone worry about me the way you do."

"Ever?" You ask.

He shakes his head, looks down.

You're not sure what he's thinking, but it looks like guilt, all soft lines and sadness and you ache to make him feel better.

You lean forward, cupping his jaw. His eyes are so open for you that you think you can see his soul in them- a dark web of shadows, that glitters with vulnerability the more you look. 

You wanted his vulnerability, you wanted him to open himself up to you, and share everything he was, everything he could be, until you were full of him.  

Until you could taste him in your mouth, even when he wasn't around.

"I'm here now, and I'll worry. I'll fight anyone that stops me from getting to you. Including Frank Castle." You promise.

His frown grows into a smile.

"You're sure you don't wanna ride me? I'll stay really still." 

You groan.

"No, no vigorous activity for at least four weeks."

"You riding me isn't vigorous."

"Yes, but I'd consider your orgasms vigorous." You reply, contemplating the way the muscles of his abdomen tended to tighten up when he came.

"Wait," Billy says in horror, "I can't come for four weeks?"

"You'll be fine." You huff.

"No I won't be." He protests.

"Just let me take care of you."

He couldn't argue with that.

. 

"You hate me don't you?" Billy asks.

You try not to grin.

You turn to face him, clad in only your plainest underwear as you get ready for work. Somehow, he still saw beauty in you, even when you weren't trying. It was exhilarating.

Unfortunately you couldn't stay with him, a meeting had been scheduled that you didn't want to push back due to the difficulty in actually getting the meeting in the first place.

"Why? Is there something wrong with it?" You ask, turning playfully to show him the back and the front.

"Everything's fucking wrong with it," Billy grumbles from his spot in bed, head tilting back for a second in what looks like a plea to God himself.

"When I get these stitches out, you're gonna be in so much trouble." he says with a little grunt.

You hum, in thought.

"You know, now that I think about it, I don't think I'll wear underwear today." You taunt.

Billy groans loudly.

Something delightful blooms within you.

. 

Wrong.

This was supposed to be wrong.

The more you think that, the more you know that this is the most right feeling in the world.

There was nothing in your old life that could ever possibly compare to him.

Usually, people coerced into marriage were subjected to inhumane treatment, impossible and abusive environments, that sucked the very living soul out of them.

The most soul sucking being done to you was when you'd been forced to deny Billy the pleasure of tasting you last night.

The pleasure of tasting you... because to him... it really was a pleasure.

You swallow, sitting at his desk, tense in his comfortable chair. You'd become someone he'd wanted.

Or maybe you'd always been. When had he decided to marry you anyways?

You blink, shock spearing through you.

What if your feelings weren't real? But simply a defence response to your circumstances.

A tired sigh leaving your lips. A shake of your head.

Would you want him if you weren't trapped by him? 

The question eats away at your sanity. You spin it around and around in your head and still you can't find an answer.

You're scared by it. By the notion of losing him.

You're also scared by the idea of staying with him, still not fully understanding what he was capable of.

Which fear was right?

And which one would break your heart? 

. 

Billy says your name in question when he hears a door slam shut.

"Just me, Bill." Is Frank's answering voice.

"Where is she?" He murmurs, throat dry, looking up at the ceiling. The pain meds held him in a state of mild confusion, spaced out so that he wasn't in any pain, but unable to truly focus on the things happening around him.

He hears the slow pour of water, peeks an eye open to find Frank beside him. He struggles to sit up, tucking a second and then third pillow behind him for support and gratefully accepting the glass of water from Frank.

"It's only two, her meeting just started so you'll see her a little later."

Billy nods, ignoring Frank's gaze as he sips the water.

"I've never seen you so down bad before."

Billy's laugh bubbles in the glass he's holding.

"What can I say? I'm a romantic." He answers flippantly.

Frank snorts loudly in knowing disbelief. Billy frowns.

"You don't think it's fast? Is she... does she have something on you?"

Anger spears itself through Billy, some at Frank, most at himself.

I'm a monster, he thinks.

He turns away, not wanting Frank to read the expression on his face, wondering if his look of guilt alone will put the pieces together in Frank's head.

"It's not like that." He says easily, thinking to himself what a sick fuck he must be to coerce someone so glorious, so awe-inspiring, into marriage against her will.

He thinks he hates himself for it.

"She told me you got accidentally married. I can't imagine a version of you, however drunk, that would accept marriage."

Frank was getting too close. Billy had to say something to appease him.

"I'd met her before, at... a company party or two. I liked her, but she had a boyfriend."

When Billy doesn't continue, Frank is forced to prompt.

"And?" 

Billy stares down at the sheets. The very sheets you'd slept under last night.

"And when I met her in Vegas, they'd just broken up, and I wanted something with her, and I don't remember how, but the next day I woke up married to her and I was so happy."

It's mostly the truth, the best tale he can spin in his state.

"I know it doesn't make sense, Frankie, but when I'm with her... I'm the man I've always wanted to be."

Frank is quiet for too long now, and Billy is forced to turn his head and look up at his best friend curiously.

Both men stare at each other in silence for a moment.

"Alright, okay, I'm sold, bring her around to meet Maria and the kids." Frank says finally.

If anything, this was Frank Castle's ultimate seal of approval. Introducing strangers to his family was not an occasion to be taken lightly.

Billy grins up at Frank.

"I can't believe I had to lose my appendix to get her invited to a Castle family dinner. You're so gullible, Frank." Billy teases.

He's rewarded with a gentle smack to his shoulder.

. 

You run your hands over the fabric of your dress, deep in thought.

Was it too much? You think you might be overdressed.

It was a lovely beige colour, maybe tan, knee length with a vintage design and little puff sleeves. You'd liked how it looked in the store. Now? You honestly felt like it was a little much.

Maybe Billy would be able to help you decide.

You call his name, walking out of your shared closet and toward the living room where you saw him last.

You spin the corner and find him already coming toward you.

"Are you okay?" He asks, dressed casually in a grey shirt and black pants.

You stumble over your words, your brain spinning too fast for you to keep up.

"W- yeah- I was coming to ask your opinion, but I am so clearly overdressed." You turn on your heel to go back into the bedroom.

"Oh no you don't." Billy says, and before you know it, he's grabbed a hold of your wrist, pulling you into his body.

You gasp, eyes widening on his face as he presses you against the wall of the hallway.

Your heart pounds in your chest at his proximity. Your need for him outweighs rational thought until you have to remind yourself that he's still recovering. If he touched you right now though, he'd find you already wet, and eager for him.

While you've been fighting your aching desire, he's taken the time to run the tips of his fingers across the apple of your cheek.

"God. You're so pretty." He whispers, warm eyes spilling euphoria into you.

He couldn't mean that. Could he?

You glance away, only to be forced into looking back at him when he grabs your jaw roughly.

The tension between you feels like an electric charge, that heightens as he gets closer. 

It's like he's never touched you before, like the sensation is brand new, and not months old. 

"I should change," You whisper, "This dress is too much."

He takes a deep breath, his hand glides from gripping your jaw to curl around your throat. Your breath stutters at the feeling. Something flutters low, an ache to be filled rears its head.

"You're gorgeous. In anything you wear. I'd want you in a ball gown or a potato sack."

Good lord.

When you smile, he brings his fingers up to press against your lips, exploring the shape of your smile, appreciating the softness.

"You mean that?" You ask, a little unsure.

His dark eyes devour you, unfocused as he looks at you, balancing on the precipice of admiring you and imagining just exactly what he wants to do to you.

"Why don't I show you?" He offers.

You reach to grip his elbows when it seems like he's going to kneel.

"No, we- you're still recovering and I don't think it's fair that I get to cum if you can't."

He lets out a low grunt, pressing his body roughly against yours, his palms against the wall on either side of your head, his forehead and nose pressed to yours. The intensity of his gaze makes you turn your head to look away, he's got the demeanour of a man starved, desperate, borderline unhinged.

He doesn't let you move far, fingers curling around the back of your neck to bring you back to face him.

"Little wife," he says so deeply that you're not sure if it's a promise or a threat.

"Lift your dress up for me, or I'll tie you up and lick your cunt anyway."

You gulp. The very thought of being helpless while he-

Fuck, but you didn't even have the time, Frank would be expecting you in an hour. 

You let out a breath, feeling more than seeing the smile that forms on his face as you begin gathering the materials of your skirt into your fists.

"Good." he says finally, and you can only feel your body throb with heat in response.

There's the gentlest kiss to your mouth, something of a promise, a pledge that when he's done with you, you won't remember how to walk.

You squeeze your eyes shut as he kneels, you know that when he reaches up to tug your underwear down the length of your legs, that he'll see the desperation he causes.

He swears when he sees it, drawing out the syllables as he witnesses the way your arousal clings to the little piece of fabric protecting your modesty.

You swallow, the materials bunched in your hands no doubt wrinkling with the force.

He takes his time, tracing coarse fingers over your calve, behind your knee and up your thigh, pulling gently to guide one of your legs over his shoulder. 

He doesn't bother to touch your centre, circle your sweet bud with his thumb like he wants to, he uses his tongue right away.

You take in a sharp breath at the contact. The tip of his tongue meeting your clit affectionately, like old friends reuniting.

A shiver goes down your spine, you crush your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Billy." You whisper softly, tilting your head back as his tongue flattens on you.

He takes it slow, remarkably gentle on your hypersensitive body, having gone relatively long in recent times without an orgasm, you feel like just the right move will pull you apart at the seams.

You let out a little groan, sighing as his pace quickens, his tongue pushing deeper, so that he can get a taste of you directly from the source.

It's primal, soft, ritualistic in the way that his tongue worships you, your eyes rolling back in your head as he draws you close to your peak.

There's an obscene sucking sound, followed closely by a hum of pleasure from between your legs. You feel your body tense, coiled tight on the precipice of bliss, thighs trembling as he keeps his tongue focused on your clit, lapping gently, and then a little harsher, to be gentle again.

His beard scratches your thighs, and even that is an aphrodisiac by itself, reminding you constantly that it's his mouth on you, his tongue on your cunt, his head between your thighs.

A sharp whine of warning, your stomach tightens, your breath stutters. 

A groan of approval from him, the soft twist of his fingers on your skin, as if to encourage you, to tell you how good you're being for him, and all you ever want to do now is be good for him.

Being deconstructed by his mouth should be a lot harder, and yet, Billy makes it look like a basic endeavour.

Your toes curl, head knocking the wall, you feel like you're coming apart, atom by atom, the force of your pleasure barely contained within your skin. You feel the walls of your cunt clamp down into a tight vise, as wave after wave of bliss fills every square inch of your body.

You barely make more than a quiet gasp- too inebriated on his tongue to even scream. 

He keeps licking you gently, lazily, trembling shudders working through your system until you're forced to tap his shoulder for a reprieve.

Another obscene sound when he pulls away, looking up at you, his mouth and beard shiny with your release.

He puts you back on two feet, but your knees buckle once the full weight of you is on them.

He stands swiftly, arms wrapping around you to pull you to his body keeping you upright, a small grunt leaving him.

You blink, struggling to restart your brain.

You realise his grunt is one of pain, as he tries to hold you up, it's what kickstarts your brain into working.

You grip his biceps, straightening your legs under you and willing them to stay that way.

"Sorry." You whisper, trying to take a deep breath.

"It's alright. If I could, I would have picked you up myself." He whispers back, and you raise your head to look into his eyes.

Something unnameable passes between you, you can't put a finger on it- but it feels like quiet appreciation for each other. 

He helps you to the couch, sitting you down before disappearing into the bathroom.

When he re-emerges, it's with a clean face and a damp washcloth. 

He encourages you down to the car after cleaning you and redressing you. You try to tell him that you're capable- but he won't have it.

He slides into the back of the car beside you, and almost immediately tucks your body against his, pulling your legs over one of his for comfort.

You sag, still fatigued from such a powerful orgasm.

Jesus, was it always going to be like that? All mind-consuming and explosive?

You smile when he kisses your forehead, tilting your head up to let him kiss you softly on the mouth.

Delightful, consuming, everything about him was just so... tantalising, you wanted to spend hours learning him, take days to map every thought in his head, every idea in his heart.

He was a dangerous enigma, a slippery slope.

And you were falling. 

. 

When Frank pulls the door to his house open, he gives you both a very suspicious look.

After a moment, he lets out a long sigh of disappointment.

"You two better not fuck in my house." He threatens.

"How can you even tell?" Billy asks in disbelief, reading into the quiet accusations being made by Frank.

"Isn't it obvious?" Frank asks, opening the door wider to let you in.

"Hi Frank," you say in greeting as you walk past him. He says your name, with a small nod of acknowledgement.

You take a moment to appreciate their house, it's warm and cozy, with lots of baseball trophies lining the mantle over the fireplace. There's a lot of pinks and beiges, a cozy line of couches near the fire.

Before you can do more looking, you hear a woman's voice.

"Is that them?" She asks, spinning into the room.

This must be Maria, you think, as you watch her take Billy into an aggressive hug, giving him a kiss to the cheek before letting him go in a flourish, a look of violation comically painted on his face.

When she turns to you next, you gulp.

She's very pretty, with lovely auburn hair. You notice a large scar curving from the corner of her eye down to the edge of her chin.

You only get a second of awareness before she's taking you into a hold just as violent as the one she'd trapped Billy in. 

You can't help but giggle at her blatant showing of affection.

She says your name in greeting.

"I hear you kneed Frank in the balls. Well done."

You splutter for an excuse.

"I'm sorry-"

"-Don't be," she interjects, "I wished I'd seen it myself."

You smile, looking over to Frank, who is mid-roll of his eyes.

"That'll cost you later, big boy. Come! Dinner is almost ready." Maria says quickly, turning away and you let out a little chuckle in response to Frank's apologetic face. 

"Billyyyyyyyyy." You hear someone shout, and you watch in horror as a small blur begins racing to your husband.

Your mouth opens, subtly stepping in front of him, ready to catch said blur.

Frank beats you to it, grabbing his son under the arms and picking him up for a second before putting him back down.

"Woah there slugger, take it easy on Uncle Billy, he just had surgery." 

You sigh, moving away from Billy so that he can hug his godson in peace. You catch Maria staring at you. You give her a smile of apology before looking away.

"Frank, I want you to meet my wife," Billy says, turning the younger Frank's body in your direction.

You can instantly see the suspicious look on his face.

You tell him your name, extending your hand politely in greeting.

He takes it, shaking your hand politely, it's the best you can hope for, being a stranger in their home.

"You're not a gold digger are you?" Frank Jr. says suddenly.

It's met with lots of scolding from his parents. You can't help laughing at everyone's shocked expressions.

"Where did you even learn that word?" Frank says, exasperated.

"In school." Younger Frank answers honestly.

Billy straightens, gives you an apologetic look.

"She's not with me for my money, junior, I'm with her cause she's sweet." He wraps a hand around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest.

You can't look at him, leaning in and accepting the comfort.

You meet Lisa next, Frank's older daughter, she's polite, but you can also see the accusation in her eyes.

You figure it's nice, that at least there are people looking out for Billy, though, you almost want to shout his crimes so that you stop being treated so abrasively.

Billy had warned you that the Castles could be protective, that they'd like you once they got to know you.

You'd hoped that were true.

.

When Maria asks how you and Billy met during dinner, you both pause in horror as the answer comes to mind.

You let out a long sigh.

"We met a couple of years ago, at a Christmas party, my boyfriend at the time was working at Anvil." You say with a smile.

Maria nods eagerly in understanding. You can see how bad it looks.

"Alright," you say, finally having enough. Your fork clatters onto your plate and you watch Billy turn his head to you in alarm.

"Cards on the table. No, I'm not with him for his money- and I'm not pregnant either if any of you are thinking it. I like him. I like his stupid face and his stupid laugh and I feel safe around him and I never really had that before." You pause for a second, taking a sip of water before continuing.

"Sure, how we met wasn't the best, and how we got married was even worse, but I like him."

Billy reaches over, taking your hand in his, you glance up at him, your stomach tying into knots as you meet his eyes.

"He's my best friend." You finish.

You feel his hand squeeze yours.

Billy leans forward, his other hand cupping your cheek and hiding your mouths from view as he kisses you softly.

The entire table erupts into groans, mostly from both Franks and you can't help laughing into his kiss.

It lightens the mood though, and there's less tension in the air by the time dinner is finished. 

.

Everyone helps with cleaning up, and you find yourself drying dishes next to Maria while the rest of the family clear the table.

"He's not someone we'd ever thought could settle down." Maria murmurs.

You look up at her curiously.

She sees your confused expression and tries to explain.

"He's always just been so focused on himself, there were a lot of bad things about his childhood, and more in the military, and we just never thought he could be in a spot where he could live with someone. He tends to push people away after a while. Even us."

You look down, letting out a long sigh, wondering what you would do if he ever tried to push you away.

Accept it, you guess. What could you really do if he decided he didn’t want you anymore? Nothing.

“But don’t worry.” She interjects, you look up at her, eyes settling on her wicked scar for a second before you look down at your dish, “He likes you, he really does, maybe you did have a rough start, but I have faith in both of you.”

Your mouth pulls into a smile, you thank her for her kind words.

.

You play Jenga with them next, laughing and tickling Billy’s left side affectionately to distract him while he moves.

He grins, his hand remains remarkably steady while you torment him with your fingers. Everyone jeers, encouraging his loss, booing him when he manages to get the block on top of the tower without toppling it.

Your turn is next and you smile happily as you lean forward to make your move. You feel his hand on the small of your back, rubbing affectionately as you pick your piece. He doesn’t try to shake you or cheat like you did while you pull your piece out. The rest of the Castle family boo you in funny ways, and you have this moment of realisation that this is what family feels like.

When you get your wooden brick seated next to Billy’s, he kisses you on the temple, murmuring a ‘Good job, baby.’ into your ear in a low voice that has your body responding eagerly to him.

There’s a look that passes between you, something warm and electric, the silent guarantee that if you were alone right now, you’d be ripping at each other's clothes.

It’s Frank that drops the tower, after Maria whispers something into his ear quietly, and you smile at the way he looks at her in half betrayal and half adoration as everyone cheers for his loss.

You see it, you understand why these people are so important to him, the humanity inside each Castle is a unique thing, that makes the whole family unit just work so easily.

You’re glad to have met them, and you’re also sad when you have to bid them goodbye at the end of the night.

Maria hugs you both, Frank gives you an almost friendly pat on your shoulder. There’s a bittersweetness to it that you’ve barely felt before, a real family that you can be a part of, a promise to reunite soon that sparks hope inside of you.

You leave, hand in hand with Billy, a little bit happier than you were when you first arrived, feeling like you understood your husband just a little bit more.

.

In the car, he lets out a slow breath, tilting his head back. He’s in pain, you realise.

“My scar is starting to hurt.” he confesses, turning his head to look at you.

Your heart squeezes in your chest. 

“We’ll get you home and get some medicine into you, okay?” You say softly, leaning into him, till your nose rubs affectionately against his.

He nods, eyes drooping as he feels your hand move to cup the healing area of his abdomen over his shirt gently. He leans into you, resting his head into the crook of your neck, your other hand moving up to play with his hair.

You feel him sigh in bliss.

.

You tug your heels off so that you have better balance to support him, encouraging him to lean into you a little so that he’s in a little less pain while you get him up to your apartment.

His pain has worsened by the time you sit him in bed and rummage through your cabinet for his medicine. 

You get it to him first, making sure he finishes the glass of water you gave him before you begin taking his shoes off.

“You don’t have to-” He tries to sit up, “I can-” He grunts in pain when he curls forward too much.

You push him back gently, giving him a kiss to his forehead.

“Let me take care of you, yeah?”

You stroke his cheek with the backs of your fingers while you wait for him to respond.

“Yeah,” he sighs.

You tug his shoes off, and then undo his pants, giggling slightly when he struggles to lift his hips to help you.

You can’t help touching him, feeling over his thick thighs as they’re exposed to you. You kiss his happy trail when you see it, giggling when he groans.

“Tease.” He pouts.

You kiss his pout too.

Only after you strip him down to his boxers and carefully check his scar, do you tuck him into bed, moving to dress down for the night too. 

When you struggle for too long with the zipper, you sit on the edge of the bed beside Billy and ask him for help.

He kisses your exposed back when he gets the zip undone.

When you’re finally in your silky PJs, you slide into bed beside him, noticing that he’s still awake, but blinking slowly.

“Are you still in pain?” You ask, tilting your head to observe him.

“No pain.” He answers, “Groggy.”

You sigh in relief, sliding closer to him, till you’re pressed to his side. Your hand slides into his rough one, and you quietly enjoy the feeling of being next to him until he speaks.

“I’ve never had this.” Billy whispers. You raise your head to look at him, noticing how unfocused his eyes are, staring up at the ceiling, blinking slowly, as if to remind himself that he’s still awake.

“The old me would have never confessed to anyone that I was hurting.” 

He turns his head, glassy eyes focusing on you.

“But you… The way you fight for me makes me want to trust you more and more each time.” He swallows, “It’s scary.”

He raises a hand, cups your cheek and you can’t help leaning into him, closing your eyes in hopes that it puts him at ease, that he doesn’t feel stared at while he opens himself up to you.

“No one has ever taken care of me before. Not like you have. You look at me- and I- I mean something. You know?”

You open your eyes then, staring at him for a long moment, finding that your throat has closed up from your abundance of emotion.

“You mean a lot.” You whisper, your hand raising to cup his.

His eyes are glassy, almost on the brink of tears.

“I didn’t know.”

.

You’re in the kitchen making coffee two days after, scarily deep in thought. 

In the quiet of the morning you think about everything that’s happened. From Dominic dumping you to the despair you felt when your annulment request had been denied. You think about it all, and you think about your mother, whose call you had ignored yesterday after walking out of her house when you found out Billy was sick. 

You didn’t know how to approach her, or what you would say when she asked you the question she’d asked before.

Before you can think yourself into a downward spiral, an arm wraps itself around your waist. His hand is broad, spreading over your tummy and leaving warm tingles behind, his touch so comforting that you can’t help but smile and lean into him a little.

“Good morning, Mrs. Russo.” He grumbles softly, letting you know exactly what he thought of waking up alone in bed.

“What can I help you with, Mister Russo?” You tease, smiling as you both sway together.

There’s a moment of silence, filled only with the sounds of your shared breaths as you enjoy the presence of each other.

“I would like you to come back to bed. It’s a Saturday and you haven’t cuddled me for nearly long enough.”

You grin, rolling your eyes.

“Yeah? And what do I get if I come back to bed with you right now?”

He hums, nose pressing against your ear, one hand on your stomach and the other rising up to cup your jaw securely.

“I can think of many imaginative ways to thank you.” He murmurs, the heat of his breath tickling your ear gently.

It’s something you could never even think to dream of.

.

.

.

A/N: Sorry I've been so inactive... bad things have happened, just popping in to post this cause I don't want it to sit in my drafts for any longer.

[shoshiwrites]

I shall join you in the trash can my dear. For Jo & Bucky from the NSFW prompts (because I am unhinged about this):

[ UNZIP ] sender unzips/unbuttons receiver’s dress/shirt - s l o w l y 🫠

Emaaaaa! Thank you so much for this prompt, and for entertaining my Jo/Bucky ramblings at any time of day. It means so much that you're in the trash can with me on board. This was......... supposed to be a smut prompt and we ended up with............3200 words of Scenes I Really Needed To Write For Them Actually, comma mildly spicy 🙈 Bucky Egan x War correspondent OC. Also on Ao3!

leading with my heart again

She’s read the same page three times.

The coffee’s drained, and the cup of tea, and maybe she ought to stop now, now that her hand is shaking a bit holding the pencil, from the caffeine or everything she hardly knows. 

A hotel bar with a hole in it. When she blinks she can still see the smoke. A few stragglers at the end of the night. Even though the nights don’t end here, they haven’t for years. Local drinkers. Society usuals. A handful of correspondents. Al Stern, a friend of Marian’s. She’d broken out a fresh bottle of gin in his honor. Blanche Aurand, narrowly escaped from Marseilles, her photographer friend. Salim? Jo’s met them all. 

You’re scared, she wants to say. Like it’s not her own self sitting here, the ticking of the clock and the tap of her foot, her toes in her shoes. She reaches up to fidget with the tiny gold hoop in her ear.

The bar is gone now, and so are they.

She hasn’t heard much by way of Thorpe Abbotts lately. She’s trying not to let that bother her. 

If Kay were here, she'd tell her to sit up straight and quit looking like a gargoyle. If-

“Thought I’d find you here.”

His voice is a momentary shock, and still familiar, like a sun-drenched room. He leans against the bar, nods at the man polishing glasses to let him know about an order — the bartender who looks too similar to the last. If she closes her eyes, she sees a white jacket covered in brick-dust, or blood. 

She smells the major’s aftershave, through the smoke of the bar and the bitter coffee. 

He dips his head, an explanation to what she imagines is her still-bewildered face. “Rang your office.”

She really does try to sit up straight, now. Suddenly ashamed, or something like it, of herself next to his freshly-cleaned uniform. Her slacks with a broken crease, a blouse with a wrinkle or two. Her hair’s a mess, or feels like it. “Oh.”

She blinks again, sees that he’s holding a metal tin in his hand — barley sweets, nestled in waxed paper — and a small bunch of torn green stems attached to white-petaled flowers. 

“No cherry,” he says. He looks fondly annoyed, almost. “I told them a few packs of smokes oughta change their tune, but I think they were really out.” 

He surveys the space in front of her, the rings of coffee and the scattered pages and the folded newspaper, the front splash of the dead. Her people, his people, their people. Everyone belonging to someone. She hears him clear his throat. Like he already knows the answer to the question, the one he doesn’t ask. Did you know them? Yes. 

The barkeep’s looking at the two of them expectantly. “What can I get for you?”

She replaces the cup on its saucer, places the little spoon next to it and slides the whole operation towards him. “I’m alright, thanks, Louie.”

The major orders a whiskey, doesn’t let her put it on her tab. He’s not too insulted about it though, he knows her. The question’s silent again, when he’s got his glass, the nod of his chin. Who’re we drinking to tonight?

But she knows now, she knows you don’t ask. His eyes are dark here, in the fading light. The mask-marks, the circles under his eyes. The stray curl always out of place.

“So,” he says, gathering himself, setting the glass back on the bar with a dull thud. “How much time do you need?”

“Time?”

“To get all…” he gestures with his hand. “Unless you’d rather we sit around here all night.”

She taps her fingers on the bar, watches her watch and chain catch the light. Looks up at Major Egan standing there, wondering just how much Kay will kill her if she walks back out of this hotel in a plain black dress. “Depends if you like a girl’s hair with only a few knots or none.”

He makes a noise of dismissal. “I hope Kay won’t be too sore about me whisking you away.”

A remark about Captain Demarco takes shape on her tongue, but she swallows it. “Make it twenty, but I’ll be quick.” 

Upstairs, she does what she can with her curls, washes her face and tries to shape her brows, reapplies her lipstick. The deep cherry color is hardly forgiving, and she has to concentrate to be careful enough with the lines of her cupid’s bow. For a brief moment she thinks of it smudged, on her teeth, on his mouth.

The dress she’d brought over is indeed black, cocktail-length, collared, with a little piped pocket, a bit of detailing. Maybe it’s a little dated, she’ll acknowledge that, but she’s tried to keep it tailored to the current style, fitted, hemmed shorter. Kay would try to send her out in something bright, rose-colored or teal, never mind that it’s October in London. She admires Kay’s boldness. Loves it, in fact, but it’s not for her. 

The bracelet stays, the watch, her earrings, her mother’s medallion beneath the collar of the dress. Heels with thin ties wrapped ‘round her ankles, and her coat. 

Hastily, she’d put the flowers in an empty bottle of Fernet-Branca, figuring Kay wouldn’t mind. He’d had less of an explanation for them than the tin of sweets, something about passing them on his way, something like a boyish smile.  Just as quickly she plucks one, laces it into the back of her updo. It’s already been cut, anyway. She wonders where he’d got them, wonders if she’ll ask. She remembers the florist down the street from her apartment in Philadelphia, the spring flowers outside Pittsburgh. She can’t see it, but he will, standing above her. 

Back down in the lobby, the tips of her fingers brush his shoulder at the low armchair, the last of his drink still in front of him. 

“Now, aren’t you a sight.” It’s not the same voice as usual — quieter. Like he’s drinking her in, like the whiskey at the bottom of the glass. “Too pretty to be out with me, that’s for damn sure.”  

She smiles, and she doesn’t even have to try, sure that her cheeks are a little pink. “Kay won’t be sore about me leaving, but she might have my head about this dress.”

He looks truly confused. “Why?”

Her hand gestures without thinking at the simple sweep of the skirt; she’s suddenly very aware of her legs. “Too boring.”

He makes a face. “Hell with that.” A small sniff, as he reconsiders. “Sorry.”

For the first time, she laughs. “I won’t tell her you said that.”

“Tell her whatever you want, you still look too good to be true.”

Now she’s really blushing. “A sight for sore eyes, huh?” The pendant rests in the dip of her collarbone, beneath the neckline of her dress. She feels it, feels the clasp at the back of her neck and the chain. 

“You don’t know the half of it.” He stands, taking the glass, polishes the last sip of his drink.

She lets herself put a hand on his jacket. “Let me buy your next one?”

He reaches for her hand, for her wrist under the sleeve of her coat. “Now, I’ll have no more of that talk, Josephine.” 

The streets are dark outside, an excuse to stay close to him. A door materializes, a small place with small tables, glowing candles and bottles of liquor and wine. It’s all very respectable, the twirl they take around the floor, and then the next, his hands at her waist, hers up around his neck. A bead of sweat works its way down the back of her neck, between her shoulderblades. He dips his head to ask if she’d like to sit, his temple damp and tacky before her mouth, in the warm room. They do, after another dance, sit and watch the couples sway from a table on the side, listen to the jukebox. I need no soft lights to enchant me- 

She lets him buy her one drink, and then two, the dark rum color catching the candlelight at the bottom of the glass. She doesn’t feel under watch here like she does at the base. Though, there’d been plenty of moments there that maybe they shouldn’t have been allowed. They. She doesn’t know what that means, here in this war. You dance one night and find an empty space the next. Or someone else. His ankle nestles against hers under the table. She wants to kiss him.

What’s stopping her?

His eyes are so blue, and she knows she’s staring. “Got something for you. If- if you want it.” It snaps her out of it a moment, her brow furrowing as he reaches into his pocket. A small gold pin in his palm, the Air Corps insignia. The kind he wears on his collar. “Since I made off with that scarf of yours.”  

The white one, he means, with flowers and Swiss dots. She’d worn it up. He’d taken it as a joke afterwards, smiling, a crack about it being prettier than the one he’d got, but not as pretty as Major Cleven’s. Buck’s. A joke, or so she’d thought. Her mistake to think a pilot’s lucky charms weren’t the most deadly serious things of all. She knows, now. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to think he meant it. 

She could wear it, here in London. His pin. A person would know she had someone. Someone. She doesn’t know how to explain him, for all her words. Brave, like all of them. Brave and funny and flirting, the fiery death or the pretty girl. A heart she wants to curl up inside of. And he’s here in front of her, fidgeting, waiting for her to say something. Here, hands and shoulders and knees. It hurts to think of anything else. She would know who she had.

“See,” she says softly, meeting his eyes. She feels like a schoolgirl, watching him. “Knew what I was doing, wearing black and gold.” She reaches to touch his palm, about to take it and pin it on. He moves to do it himself, leaning forward. She shivers, the touch of his fingers at her throat, under the collar of her dress.

If you would only grant me the right-To hold you ever so tight-

Maybe it’s the light, or the drinks, or the music, or the fact that staying ten minutes past last call could have put her on the front page of that newspaper too. Every mission, the odds go down.

Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at her, like he’s hoping she’ll ask him for something he can give. 

He’s so close to her now. Maybe-

“Mmph-” He tastes like spice and alcohol, the sweat of his upper lip pressed to hers. He releases the pinch of fabric in his hands, the pin now fastened to her lapel. It hardly takes a second for his hands to find her jaw. His touch loosens the tension of her shoulders, sparks warm and firelit in her belly. She stays, lets the kiss grow sloppier until her tongue is pressing against his teeth.

They only stop because she needs a second to catch her breath, to watch him smile at her like she’s somehow surprised him.

“Why are you smiling?”

He doesn’t stop. “I’ll give you one guess, Josephine.”

She thinks better of a retort, lets her cheeks go red and leans forward again, a noisy kiss against his mouth. 

A voice in the back of her head sounds a warning, something distorted, through the sound of the music and the smoky haze. The singer’s own shines through, the brassy big band music that always makes her think of him. There I go, leading with my heart again- She ought to head back to the hotel now, before the night calls for another bar, another drink or three, a bed. And there I go, acting not-so-smart again-

She stands, smooths her skirt, adjusts the soles of her feet inside her shoes. “One more spin?” 

Something falls out of his eyes; he looks like he wants to argue with her, but he doesn’t. A few seconds before he answers. “Early morning?”

She nods, and it feels like the worst lie. Even though it isn’t, she’s got a briefing with the Ministry of Information tomorrow, and plans to meet another source for coffee. Probably more drinks, she thinks. It would hardly be the first time someone showed up for a meeting hungover.

But though it’s unwise, I can’t disguise my love-

Afterwards, they walk back out into the cold night, the smell of his aftershave still in her nose. He touches the flower at the back of her hair. “You got your last dance, can I get a last kiss?”

It surprises her, the forlorn note in her voice. “Where did I use the word last, Major?”

He sighs, or something like it. “Don’t have to, it’s written all over your face.”

Her fingertips find his lapels, the top of her head nuzzled under his chin. “I would hope I’m less readable than that.”

A laugh escapes him, though it’s hardly full of humor. “You’re really not.”

Like you, right? “A shitty pokerface, remember?” 

“‘Cept this time it’s not about the coffee.”

“What’s it about, then?”

He doesn’t answer, leans down and kisses her and steadies her with his hands, what she imagines is her own lipstick tacky against the sides of her mouth. He doesn’t stop, and neither does she. His hand burrows between her coat and her dress, hugging her waist. She presses against it.

They should be walking, or ducked under an eave, not out here like this after dark. This corner. 

Her back automatically straightens when they hear a bicyclist go past, a little huff from his lips and hers as she breaks away. 

“I can still bring you back-” he says belatedly, “if-”

He’s offering her this. Maybe she can admit it to herself now, wanting it too much to refuse.

She shakes her head. “It’s alright, John.”

There’s something in his eyes at that, no Major, just John. “I’m glad.” His voice is heavy when he answers her. Low. His fingertips press against her waist. “I’ve been thinking about this damn dress all night.”

“The dress?”

He smiles, the scratch of his mustache against her cheek. “Alright, the zipper.” He laughs softly, what he imagines her face must look like in the dark, under the cloud-filled sky. “Just bein’ honest.”

Her mouth hovers at the corner of his jaw. “I’d expect nothing less.”

“What else do you expect?” Her chest feels like it’s full of butterflies, when he asks.

“That…you won’t stop talking.” She kisses the spot under his ear. “Please.”

He snorts. Maybe she’s imagining it, the slightest breathiness to his voice. “Now tell me what you really think of me, Josephine.”

Can I? she thinks. “Well, what do you expect?”

He pauses, considering. “That you’ll keep kissing me. Makin’ me blush.”

“I make you blush?”

“Like a tomato, Josephine. ‘Least it feels like it. One flash of those knees and-” She smacks him lightly across the lapel. “Hey.”

“I guess I told you not to stop talking.”

“Yes, you did. Now where was I-”

“My knees.”

“Right.”

A few more couples make their way outside, swirls of perfume and rum and sweat, almost bumping into them. She knows what she’s asking, now. “Maybe we should, uh-”

“Maybe you’re right.”

His hotel is closer, they’d walked by it on the way. She tries not to duck her head in the lobby. He kisses her on the landing of the stairs and again outside the door, forehead lingering against hers.

It’s a large room, larger than she expected, certainly not the little thing she and Kay share at the Highgate, the wallpaper peeling by the radiator. There’s not much of him here besides a bed that’s half-made, a garment bag by the front leg of the desk.

“It’s a nice room,” she says, trying to banish the wobble in her stomach. 

He makes a noise that sounds almost like a laugh. “They know how to charge officers around here.”

“Still.” She reaches back to fidget with the clasp of her necklace. “I uh-”

“Something wrong?”

No. “It’s been-” She’s suddenly embarrassed, left ignorant as to how this is supposed to go. Not ignorant, just-

“Can I get you a drink? We could get something sent up.”

“No, thank you.” It’s probably too late, anyway. He takes off his jacket, drapes it over the back of the small chair at the desk. She takes a deep breath. “I suppose you should kiss me again.”

He smiles, deep and wolfish. “You suppose, huh?”

“Yes.” He does, lets her thread her fingers in his hair. “Suppose I should let you sit, too,” she says. 

“However you want, sweetheart.”

She wants to slap herself for what comes out next. “Really?” 

He looks at her like she’s a little bit crazy. His eyes are gleaming in the low light, dulled against the closed curtains. “You say jump, I say how high.”

She shakes her head before she can stop herself. Her voice is small, and wanting, and she feels suddenly like she’ll fall apart if he doesn’t keep holding her. “Please, just kiss me.” 

Don’t make me think. Let me forget everything except you. 

“Just say the word,” he says, but he’s already got his mouth on hers. 

She’d stopped caring about her lipstick hours ago, and to hell with everything else now. She’s in his lap, here in a locked room, his hand high up her thigh and her own pressed on top of it.

Soon, her dress is around her hips, and he’s got his hands on the top of the zipper, stopping when it catches. He presses a sloppy kiss to her neck, the dip of her collarbone, exposed. She helps him open the rest of the dress, awkwardly, twisting an elbow. He stops, and looks at her with a hazy stare; two kisses, one above each breast, and one to St. Christopher between them. She undoes his tie, not quite an easy task when he’s lavishing kisses on her shoulders. Keeping his promise. She ought to, too. She presses her mouth to the freckles dotting his chest, and one for his crucifix, another for the medallion. Maybe, she thinks, they should use the rest of the bed.

“I’m glad I stopped by,” he says, quiet and rasping and a little bit breathless, his cheeks a shade of coral in the light. 

“You found me,” she says, and it sounds like thank you.

He seems to consider this, his hands stilled under her dress. She can feel him, underneath her. It sends a rush of sparks through her chest, her stomach, her hips. “I did.”

“You did.”

I trust you, she wants to say. But she doesn’t, doesn’t know what to say next. Only brings a hand to his cheek, and his curls, only kisses him again.

[nian-7]

hiii yugennnn :] could I request bsd Highschool Headcannons? characters are up to you!

hi mon!! i hope you enjoy!

Bungo Stray Dogs x gn!reader

✧high school au headcanons

✧fluff, high school au (ofc), (this does not have anything to do with the bsd game's school!)

-Atsushi walks you to class. Every single day. No exceptions. He will walk you to your class and hold your hand while you both walk. He's honestly such a sweetheart. He's always keeping his hand gently intertwined with yours.

-Ranpo is the smart kid and honestly, he could care less about class. He finds it easy and refuses to take any difficult classes because they're not of interest and he can't just sit around as much. Although, one mention of you transferring to a more difficult class, he might just transfer too. Not to be in the same class as you, of course..

-Kunikida, like Ranpo, is smart. He takes the difficult classes and is most likely a tutor. He's good at teaching and will help you with your homework or studying if you don't understand it. He's really nice about it (sometimes) but, will get pissed off if you attempt to just make him do it all for you.

-Dazai... He's popular to say the least. Although, he doesn't particularly care much about the popularity and just does what he wants. He'll hang out with who he wants regardless of their popularity and walk up to people he's interested in, including you!

-Yosano is 100% the person you would want to have as a best friend. She's always on your side and will defend you if need be. A lot of people are intimidated by her but, she's just protective over those she holds dear to her!

-Chuuya's pretty nice to you, he's a bit unsure about talking to you out of the blue. He feels like he needs some sort of reason and he just struggles to find a reason. He also hates when Dazai pokes fun at him while you're around.

-Akutagawa is the person who never talks. He literally will not talk unless you speak to him first and then he'll debate whether or not he should respond to you. He only talks when necessary which is nearly never. He isn't very talkative even when you get to know him either but it's still nice to know that he will talk to you once you are friends!

-Higuchi is the one girl who enjoys the romance talk. She loves getting into talking about crushes with you! Of course, she isn't always talking about crushes but, she talks about it quite a bit so she's always interested to hear what's going on with the one you hold close to your heart!

-Gin is slightly more talkative than her brother but, she still doesn't talk much. She's a lot more on the shy side and get's a bit nervous sometimes! Her confidence builds up slowly but, she is grateful that you came up to her first, she's not sure she could have done that herself.

-Tachihara has the 'delinquent' look to him and honestly, that's the kind of reputation he gets. He has a tough expression on almost all the time but, once you approach him, he gets a little surprised. He's the type of guy to slowly let his soft side show as he spends more time with you. (He still keeps up the 'tough guy' act whenever you're not around though)

please do not repost any of my work without my permission, thank you for reading.

[bleach-your-panties]

Idk if I’m a moot of urs bc it doesn’t show up on my side but I did wanna ask if I could have a tag when u answer my asks ?

also an unrelated request, how would the bleach men (Izuru, Renji, byakuya and gin, but you can add any other characters) react to having an S/O uncomfortable with their thighs being touched because of past trauma ?

You should be, because I'm following you! Tumblr makes me fucking sick, I swear. No worries, I will assign you one!

----

Izuru would understand wholeheartedly and quickly remove his hands from your thighs (if he even had the nerve to put them there in the first place.) He definitely asks permission before touching you anywhere, though, especially somewhere intimate. Encourages you to seek out counseling and even volunteers as a listening ear, totally judgment-free.

Renji would be a little confused when you shrink away after he casually places a hand on your thigh as you sit next to him, but once you explain the story he will be very understanding and also get upset and want to destroy whoever or whatever made YOU upset. He hates to see his loved ones in pain. He is also extremely supportive and now he's even MORE protective over you.

Byakuya wouldn't touch you there first without permission because he has manners, and once you divulge your reasons he will solemnly nod and then leave the conversation as it is, unless you want to tell him more. He listens quietly, gently squeezes your hand as a show of support, and informs you that you can always come talk to him.

Gin would be very curious about the story, but won't press you for more information; he's fine with waiting until you're ready to tell him. If you do, you'll slowly notice how his forehead slightly crinkles and he opens his eyes into small slits to look at you, but don't worry, he's not mad at you; he's fucking pissed at the situation that's caused you this trauma. He wraps a gentle arm around your middle and pulls you into a soft hug, resting his chin on the top of your head.