#and i make no promises you'll ever see anything posted about him ever again after this post

[roses-luckride]

Your daily reminder that I am a silly lil guy with my silly lil self-ships!!! Anyways, here is both a colored piece of my version of Unburied Riddler as well as my self-insert!!! : D

(A transparent version of this drawing and a version without the hard mix layer over top for the normal colors below cut)

[cheeseceli]

When they have a crush

Pairing: ot7 BTS × Gn!reader (individually)

Genre: headcanon, fluff

Request: types of dumb or random things bts members will do while they are crushing on someone and wants their attention?

Warnings: mentions of food at jin's

A/n: I feel like I'm getting better at making the layout of these posts :)

Jin

‌This man ain't even trying to bring out his boyfriend material

‌He's going for the husband material

‌Cooks for you quite a lot

‌Always bringing you some lunch or just a few baked goodies (and never allowing the boys to eat it beforehand)

‌Runs errands with you because he "has nothing better to do" when in reality he's just desperate to be with you for a while

‌He even has "cleaning dates" with you😭

‌I see him to be a huge fan of domesticity ngl

‌So if there's anything he can do to bring out this side in your relationship, even if you're only on the friendship stage yet, you can bet that's what he's gonna do

‌And he 100% expects your friends to make the "you seem like an old married couple" jokes because !!

‌That's precisely his goal!!

‌Once he gets to know your family, he even wants your family to be expecting the day you'll both start to date

‌Jin is just the definition of husband material and he knows it, that's how he tries to make you look at him

Suga

‌Stick to the end and hear me out

‌Jokes

‌I know how that sounds but I promise you it makes sense😭

‌Yoongi is the typa guy to be effortlessly (and questionably) funny

‌Like that one time the staff said "whoever has the ball wins" and he replied with "then we are all winners"

‌However !

‌He keeps on doing those jokes like he'd always do

‌But now he unconsciously looks at your direction

‌Would you laugh? Would you find it weird? Did you even pay attention?

‌If, after developing this crush of him, he notices that you actually laugh at his jokes

‌You can be sure he'll do them a lot

‌But it's so subtle you don't even notice he's doing it to make you laugh/have your attention

‌However, he does pay attention to you quite a lot so he can always be the first one to notice your smile growing

J-hope

‌Endless excuses to see you

‌He will purposely "forget" his things at your place just so he can go back there (and forget some more things)

‌It's an infinite cycle

‌Sometimes he will accidentally leave his sweatshirts with you

‌And then he'll be like "could you give it back to me? We can go to that restaurant I was telling you about and then you can give it to me"

‌But then he will tell you that the night is cold so it's okay if you want to wear his sweatshirt while you're both out

‌And then he also forgets to take it back

‌Wow who would ever imagine this could happen

‌So now you both need to see each other again because he really wants that sweatshirt

‌Bro is still trying to grow the courage to properly ask you out

‌So even if you do catch up on his small antics, please engage on it

‌He just needs a little bit of impulse 😭

Namjoon

‌Whenever he wants your attention, he starts to talk

‌And with that I mean he TALKS

‌Won't shut up for a second

‌And he won't even make sense, bro is talking about the dumbest and more random things you could ever imagine

‌ "I wouldn't want to live in mars, it sounds depressing. Neptune sounds cool though, don't you think?"

‌Like?? How do you want me to answer to that hun😭

‌But it's kinda sweet because he becomes a professional yapper to gain your attention, but once he gets it he let's you do all the talking

‌He didn't really want to talk, he just wanted you to be there with him

‌So you can talk all you want, he will pay attention to every single word with a little smile on his face

Jimin

‌Deadass stares at you

‌Not in a creepy way tho, just in a "please look at me I really want your attention right now"

‌And will keep on staring at you until you give in

‌Heavy on physical touch as well

‌At this stage of your relationship, everything is friendly of course

‌Because he is scared of letting you know he's in love with you💀 even if that's pretty much the whole point

‌However

‌He still craves a lot of your touch

‌Hugs all the time, holds and plays with your hand, the same goes to your hair...

‌Sometimes you can't even go somewhere without him following you like a shadow

‌Trust me, if he wants your attention he will find a way to have it

Taehyung

‌He will ask for it

‌Like, literally

‌I see him as a very straightforward person so he'll just be like "y/n pay attention to me"

‌Multiple times, until you actually do stop whatever you were doing and look at him

‌And his reaction will be like 😄

‌I see him doing this slightly more subtly when he's trying to get your attention from someone else

‌If he feels you're talking to Jin, for example, for a very long while now, he won't hesitate on sitting next to you

‌And kinda throwing himself on top of you

‌lmao scratch what I said, that's not subtle at all

‌But at least he doesn't say what he wants from you out loud ig

Jungkook

‌You think this man is competitive?

‌That's because you haven't seen him trying to impress you

‌Are you watching the dance practice? You can bet that Jungkook is giving 3 times his all

‌Are you watching the recording? Bro becomes Mariah Carey in two seconds

‌The boys' biggest fear is when they are playing basketball or something like that and you're watching it

‌They KNOW they are going to lose

‌It can be a 6×1, nothing is stopping him from impressing you like that

‌But if you're the one playing against him? He's probably gonna win the match no matter what, but he's going to be extremely soft at least!

‌Please do compliment him on how he was, he needs to know it was worth it😭

Masterlist | you'll probably like: when you're rejected by your crush

Thank you for reading <3

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans

Credits for images 1 , 2 and 3

Dividers by @k1ssyoursister

[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!!!!! ]

[eyelessfaces]

ahead, ahead

poe dameron x reader

summary: “We– You’ll never settle down, Poe. We both know this. And neither will I, as long as we’re in this.” Your eyes rake over his face, his eyes softly fluttering with hurt when he averts his gaze from you. “It'll never work.”

or; your fear of the future forces you to reject the man you love.

warnings: rejecting poe but we're not actually truly rejecting him (who, in their right mind would reject this man), talks of the war, of being scared of the future, extremely brief mentions of an injury, death and grief

tags: gn!reader, idiots in love, angst, fluff, celebration, kissing, idk man I hate tagging this stuff you'll see

word count: 2.9k

masterlist | taglist | ao3

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

lmao hey I'm back ig if this fic doesn't hit ten thousand notes in 48hrs I'm dipping again

The night is fairly quiet, save for the occasional crackle over the comms. You and Poe are tucked away in an observation post, overlooking a seemingly endless empty desert; it feels like you've been here for hours, time blending now that the only light around is the shining stars and the small dots of your devices. 

Poe lightly clears his throat, breaking the comfortable silence between you. “You can't go away from any conversation right now, so,” 

You shouldn’t even be surprised that he can not keep his mouth shut for longer than three minutes. “Why won't you let me take you out on a date?”

You sigh. “Poe, not now.” 

You can feel his eyes burning holes through you, knowing exactly what gaze he’s using on you, knowing his big, warm, pleading brown eyes will have the exact effect he intends to cast over you if you happen to turn to him.

You keep watching ahead, trying your best to ignore his too obvious firm gaze over you in your peripheral vision, feigning focus on trying to notice anything unusual in the broad land of sand ahead of you. He makes it really hard.

“What? Perfect situation to talk about this” he says, his gaze on you unwavering. “For me” he shrugs with a teasing smile.

You bite the inside of your cheek, hoping that your silence will make him drop it. But he’s Poe Dameron. 

“Tell me. Tell me why. I genuinely want to know your reasons.” he says, leaning back into his seat. “Hurt my feelings if you have to. I just wanna know”

You can feel the pressure starting to pull down on you. You know he won’t let it go, but you also don’t want to hurt your friend while you’re stuck with him for what could be hours.

“So what, because no one ever says no to you you can’t take someone rejecting you?” you scoff, turning to him before you check the comms again though you know there’s nothing new. 

He laughs, a choked, startled laugh. “We both know it’s not that. You kissed me”

You sigh, tension coiling tight and your heart leaping in your chest as you set the comms down again, at this point begging the maker for something to happen, maybe even for a First Order ambush just to get you out of this conversation. “Maybe I was just pitying you.” you mutter under your breath, busying yourself out of it by picking the underside of your nails.

“Oh, you were shitting your pants at the idea of losing me. That's why you kissed me. You were so scared I might be dead you ran to kiss me when you found out I wasn't.” 

Your eyes close wearily. He’s on point. 

“And you almost could have chipped my teeth with how hard our mouths clashed, so,” he trails off. “Come on. Why won’t you tell me? I really just wanna know. I can handle it.” he murmurs, more softly this time. Your head shakes as you tut impatiently. His gentle tone doesn’t make it less painful to be in this situation. “I promise you won’t hurt my feelings, you already kinda did anyway, so I guess I’m not really–” Poe stops when you suddenly grab his arm and hold a finger up, your eyes widening as you freeze.

“Listen”

Poe halts and goes silent, alert to any sound around, any faint wind breeze, any footstep, anything. 

“...I’m not hearing anything” he declares after a while, eyebrows furrowed.

You recline into your seat, releasing your grip on him. “Exactly. How peaceful”

He lets out a soft, bitter chuckle and looks away, into the waves of sand, pretending to get his focus back onto the task at hand. 

He finally, as you wished, lets the tight space be silent again, but after a while, you come to admit that the heavy silence is arguably more agonizing than having Poe run his mouth about something you don’t really want to talk about.

“You'll always care about the Resistance more than you could care about me.”

“What?” Poe scoffs and glances back over you, eyebrows raised. You give him a small shrug. “That’s not true. You know that’s not true.”

Your gaze darts to him before you look back out the window at your side. “It’s not even a bad thing, it’s who you are, and that’s why people follow you, that’s why I follow you, but–”

He stares at you, his gaze burning through you again, caught somewhere between confusion and frustration. “But what? What makes you think that?” 

You can hear the startled hurt in his tone, the clear bewilderment, the clear need and urge in him to argue.

“You're a busy man. You're always on the run–” 

“So are you” he cuts you off.

“That's what I mean. We’re both so busy with this– this endless fight. We barely have time to sleep, let alone,” you gesture vaguely between the both of you, catching the pleading gaze you were desperately trying to avoid earlier, hoping he will get what you mean without you having to say it out loud, without having to stab him right through the heart once again.

“So what?” he insists, his tone firmer. “We both know that. That’s part of the deal. But that doesn’t mean we couldn’t make it work”

You shake your head, sensing it will only keep going down from there. “We– You’ll never settle down, Poe. We both know this. And neither will I, as long as we’re in this.” Your eyes rake over his face, his eyes softly fluttering with hurt when he averts his gaze from you. “It'll never work.”

The thick silence painfully grips at your throat, and just when it feels Poe might start to speak again, the comms crackle with a signal, alerting a presence on the grounds. 

You stand up and gather the stuff you need, the mission you let aside needing your full focus again, and as you take your blaster out of your holster, you can still feel Poe’s lingering gaze over you, your chest tightening in a sense of guilt you’ve never felt before.

—

It’s spontaneous and unconstrained when you fall into Poe’s embrace, but you do, and it’s like nothing ever happened in that observation post a few weeks ago. Your hands fist tightly into the fabric of his flight suit while you're still careful not to press yourself too close against his wounded arm. The general hubbub of celebration is rumbling on the ground of Ajan Kloss, thrumming through the air, and you can only feel relief as Poe’s hand cups the back of your head, pulling you closer into the embrace. For a brief moment, you just stay here, mingling with each other, breathing him in like you didn't completely push him away the last time you faced him.

“Are you okay?” he asks when you pull back slightly, looking you up and down, eyes raking through as he searches for any sign of injury.

“Are you?” you ask back, eyeing his arm wrapped in a cloth and held against his chest by a sling. 

He shrugs, grimacing as he quickly waves it off, trying to downplay it. “That's fine. Nothing I've never seen before. I got things to celebrate before I start whining about this” he grins. 

He smiles wider when he sees your smile, your cheeks warming up as his gaze lingers over you, taking in every detail of your face. You have barely been able to catch each other for longer than two minutes outside of missions these past few weeks, so knowing he will now be able to see you for maybe three minutes longer now that the galaxy isn’t at stake anymore brings another layer to the wider sense of relief of this war being over. “I’m glad you made it out alright” he says quietly, his voice just loud enough for you to hear over the noise. 

“Couldn’t have done it without such an amazing leader” you tease, and he lets out a genuine laugh, shaking his head, but your own laughter fades as he gets cornered by his fellow squadron pilots, pulling him away from you.

You smile when you see his eyes crinkle as they cheer with him, and you give him another smile and nod when he mouths you a quick apology as they drag him away.

—

You stare off into the distance, a small smile tugging at your lips when from afar, you notice Finn being swirled around by Rose, all smiles. 

There’s a bittersweet feeling to this, all of this. It’s supposedly all over, but you also have no idea what to expect for tomorrow, and the next day, and all the ones after that, and the idea is terrifying. 

You put your glass down beside you on the crate that serves you as a bench, turning when you feel a presence approaching.

“Hey” Poe smiles, sitting by your side on the wide crate.

“Hey,” you reply, a hint of tiredness in your voice though his presence lifts you up a little.

“Overwhelmed?” 

You scoff, giving him a half nod, barely a tilt of the head. “Yeah, you could say that”

He gives you a nod of comprehension, staring off at the loud, joyful celebration in the distance. 

Puffs of dirt are flowing off the ground from being beaten by dancing feet, the particles visible from the strings and poles of lanterns set up for the occasion, revealing the figures of people overflowing with energy though that layer will peel off and reveal the true exhaustion stemming from the battle soon enough.

The night is warm, making sweat cling to skins, making tears of all kinds short-lived, visual proofs of joy and grief drying and disappearing quickly.

Poe’s gaze turns back to you, his hand settling over yours. “You should join us. You shouldn’t be staying by yourself at a time like this” he prompts, lightly nudging your side, a gentle smile on his face.

“I will, eventually” you nod, glancing at a couple linking foreheads, swaying side by side. “Just having a moment,” you chuckle softly, bringing your glass back to your lips.

“Ouh, okay” he teases, begrudgingly removing his hand. “Mind if I have this moment with you?”

“Sure,” you scoff, silently offering to share your glass with Poe, disposing of it again when he silently declines.

“So, what now?” he questions, a renewed brightness filling his voice. “What are your plans now that this war’s over?” he asks, eyes roaming along your figure.

You take a deep breath, clearing yourself of a discomfort you barely realized had been smothering your chest. “I don’t know. That’s what’s terrifying” you admit. He hums in agreement, nodding. “But maybe I’m gonna apologize to a certain pilot I pushed away first” you grin, glancing at him, meeting his eyes that crinkle in the corners as he smiles. “I wanted to apologize earlier. Before they snatched you away to worship you for your feats” you tease.

He scoffs. “Sorry. Busy man as you said”

“Yeah” you exhale, taking a sip of your drink. You lick the liquid off your lips, before looking back at Poe. “I was too harsh on you. I didn’t mean to hurt you” 

He gives you a single nod and a forgiving smile. “I know. We don’t have to talk about that”

You shrug softly, averting your gaze from him again. All those people cheering and laughing and kissing could have been you and Poe instead of that slightly awkward tension between you, in a parallel reality where you hadn’t pushed your pride to the first plan, leaving your feelings behind. 

You glance at him, at the way his brown eyes catch the warm glow of the lanterns. “I wanted to kiss you again” you admit, in a faint murmur. “When we came back winning.”

Your gaze falls to your lap, your fingers drumming against your glass as you feel the weight of Poe’s gaze over you, attentive to your every word. “But I didn’t want you to think I was playing with your feelings and being cruel again, just the way I was in the observation post”

Poe’s gaze softens, his hand closing as he tries to keep himself from reaching for you again. He nods in understanding, unsure how to go on from this admission. 

“It’s not about cruelty,” he mutters, still looking at you. “It hurt because I knew you were scared. And I didn’t know how to make you not be.”

Your heart tightens inside your ribcage, your eyes briefly closing at his words. You nod, having to admit he is probably right. Scared of losing any more people you love, for the cause that has already taken so much from you.

Scared of losing him when your feelings already weighed enough on you.

“Hey,” he calls, tearing you out of your knot of blooming thoughts, nudging your knee with his own. “That’s why we’re here tonight. Because we made it” he nods. “We're all supposed to be less scared now, to enjoy the celebration and to properly take time to process our griefs.”

A faint smile grows over his face when you rest your head against his shoulder. You try to ignore the tears threatening your eyes.

“So things are supposed to be quieter now, right?” you question quietly, feeling his arm wrap around your back.

He hums in reflection. “There’s still a lot to do but, yeah, supposedly”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Always”

You let out a small, vulnerable sigh. “I never thought this day would actually happen. It was just a distant vision” you confess. “And now that it’s here I don’t know what to do”

He slightly tilts his head, glancing at you without dislodging your head from his shoulder. “You’ve never fantasized about what your life would be like after the war?”

You stay quiet for a bit, thinking about it. “Not really. Not seriously. Mostly because it didn’t really feel like this day would come, and now everyone knows what they want for themselves and I feel completely lost”

He nods. “You don't have to figure it all out now. The Resistance still has lots to sort out” he affirms, his thumb idly caressing your arm. “But you can think about it differently. You have every option now. You can start again” You pull your head away from his shoulder, considering this point of view as you grab your drink to finish it. You hum softly, rubbing your eyes when you let go of your drink, trying to chase the lingering doubts away.

“Come on, we should join the others” he clutches your shoulder before standing up. “And you need a refill”

You nod, looking back at your empty glass, propping yourself onto your feet. “Poe, wait” he turns back to you, an expectant curiosity painted over his face, watching as you step closer to him. 

“If you asked me out again,” you say, a playful smirk forming on your lips. “I’d say yes. It’d be part of my new life”

His grin widens as he fully turns to you. “Oh yeah?” he asks, an eyebrow raised and a teasing edge to his voice. 

His eyes roam over your face, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as you nod. “Yeah”

He steps closer, the space between you shrinking as his hand brushes yours before he holds it again, this time more deliberately and more confidently. “You should have. Kissed me” he murmurs as your gaze darts to your linked hands then back to him, unable to repress the smile growing onto your face.

“I know,” you chuckle, watching him let his fingers intertwine with yours when you don’t pull away, his touch firm, grounding you with a peacefulness you haven’t felt in what seems to be ages. “But who says it's too late?”

“If I was that petty, I would” he grins, a teasing glint in his eyes, but the warmth in them conveys the playfulness of his words. 

You lean in to kiss him before either of you can overthink it, your free hand instinctively grabbing at the back of his neck like he can somehow still slip away from you, your fingers burying in his mass of hair damp from the heavy atmosphere.

His hand slides out of yours to cup your face and the kiss lingers, warm and unhurried, neither of you caring about the laughter and music of the celebration in the background. When you finally pull back, your foreheads touch, and you see the playful grin on his face that makes your chest ache with fondness. “Took you long enough” he teases.

“You’re so desperate” you shoot back, your tone lacking any real bite, significantly softened by the smile that refuses to leave your face. 

“You were hard to get.”

“Alright, okay” you scoff, your hand sliding to rest against his torso, adjusting the collar of his shirt on the way. 

The teasing slowly fades from his face, his hand reaching up to cover yours over the rise and fall of his torso, gently closing around your fingers

“I’ll make time for you.” he says, his voice low and sincere. “Between work, flying, building everything we’ve lost and our lives again… I’ll make time for us. I promise”

You find yourself nodding, swallowing his every word, blindly trusting him; because if there is one thing you know for sure, it is that Poe Dameron never makes empty promises.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding, and for the first time in what feels forever, moving forward doesn’t seem as terrifying.

—

any and every feedback/reblog/comment is greatly appreciated and keeps authors going!!

star wars taglist:

@lockleysgrl @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @anightshift

@whatthefishh @dameronshandholder @campingwiththecharmings @mintgreen24 @spider-starry 

@jakecockley @cocodiem @spxctorsslxt @friedwings @luxisluxurious 

@stvnnie @dowbastan @il0vebeingdelulu @hammerhead96 @unear7hly 

@pigeonmama @c-losur3 @klillaah @Spicydonut25

[hvaneyflowers]

Christmas Vacation! *********************

Pierre Gasly x femreader!

You and Pierre go on your first Christmas vacation together, but unexpectedly, you lose Pierre in the city.

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, f1wags, charles_leclerc, and 30.000 more.

tagged: pierregasly

yourusername: London at Christmas is just magical!

view all 100 comments.

username1: favorite couple in my favorite city!

username5: you look so cute together! please, never break up!

username3: would you take Pierre to your hometown?

username12: SO CUTE!!!!

username9: I need a photo of Pierre and y/n at Buckingham Palace ASAP!

username4: I swear, you're the cutest couple in the whole world!

username6: YES!! MY PARENTS!!!

pierregasly: love you!❤️

yourusername: love you, too! ❤️

username90: Power couple!

username7: best couple!

username8: love you!!!

username29: beautiful as always!

liked by pierregasly

pierregasly

liked by lewishamilton, charles_leclerc, and 500.000 more.

tagged: yourusername

pierregasly: Have you seen this woman? She's short and has brown long hair. Also, she responds to the name y/n, and she can be a little angry. I lost her at the city's market... but I found this cool friend!😎

view all 400 comments.

username1: Not Pierre posting on Instagram but answering y/n's texts!

username8: he's a dead man.

username2: Not Pierre taking a photo with Lewi's wax figure and y/n freaking out 'cause she can't find him😂

username4: that's why they're the best couple!

lewishamilton: not tag?

lewishamilton: 🧍‍♂️

username3: LEWIS COMMENTING!!

username5: yep, Pierre's dead. Lewis and y/n will kill him.

username10: 'not tag?' - lewis hamilton.

username71: Pierre committed a crime. He must pay for it.

yourusername: PIERRE GASLY!!! I WILL KILL YOU!!!

username8: what have I said? He's dead. username6: 100% confirm. username34: Pierre, run! pierregasly: 🙀🏃

liked by yourusername

************************************************************************

"PIERRE GASLY, I WILL KILL YOU!" you screamed while opening the door of your hotel room.

You were angry at Pierre and Lord, he will be dead. You both were shopping at the city's market when you got distracted for only one second, and Pierre disappeared. You searched and searched for almost two hours, but you didn't find him. You also sent him texts and called him many times but without a response. You were so pissed off. This is beyond a joke! You were desperately looking for him, and he was in the wax museum taking photos with Lewis! You'll kill him without a doubt.

"Honey... how are you?" he asked with a nervous smile.

"I hate you!" you told him, falling on the bed.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't want this to happen, but while you were distracted by that salesman, I got distracted too by a baby goat," he explained, sitting by your side.

"A goat?" you asked him.

"Yes. It was the cutest goat I've ever seen. Look, I took a photo," he said happily while showing you the photo.

"I can't believe it. I freaked out because you got distracted by a goat?" you said in disbelief.

"It was a cute goat!" he tried to defend himself.

"Alright. It was a cute goat," you rolled your eyes. "But, why didn't you answer my texts and calls? Do you have any idea of how worried I was? I almost have a heart attack!"

He gave you a little smile and hugged you. You relaxed in his arms and started exhaling his smell. Thank God for putting him in your way. You loved him more than anything in the world.

"I'm so sorry, mon amour, but my cell phone died after my photos in the wax museum. I know I should've called or texted you, but I was so happy to see everything that I completely forgot about you. I'm so sorry, it won't happen again. It's a promise." he kissed your forehead.

"I forget you, baby. I love you, too. I was so scared to lose you." you said rubbing your nose against his cheek.

"Let me make up to you. We'll have fun tonight," he gave you one of his smiles that tells you you won't sleep.

"Merry Christmas, lover of goats!" you laughed while pulling him near your body.

"Merry Christmas, my future killer." he kissed you.

[constantcrying]

Anger is a secondary emotion.

m!yandere x gn!reader

TW: obsession, some violence

This'll be my first post! If you have any feedback, I hope you'll share it.

He's trying. Honestly he is. He's putting in the work, biting his tongue and keeping his fists clenched. He'll never pick another jealous fight or cause a scene for the rest of your lives. He'll stop taking souvenirs from your home after every visit. Maybe he'll even go to therapy and unpick the fucked up weave of his childhood to find the origin of his every maladaption. Who knows, he might come out of this rough patch a better human being.

Promises between the two of you are worth something. You always say what you mean, do what you say. That consistency is another thing he loves about you, another one of the countless reasons he couldn't bear to lose you. It was why the look on your face that day had terrified him, as you confessed you were sick of his shit and struggling to be his friend—you meant it when you said you would go no-contact because he was obsessive.

It was bad enough being relegated to a mere friend after two years of adoring you. What was he supposed to do if you left him altogether? As much as he hated sharing your time and attention with the rest of the world, he couldn't bear to lose his humble slice of it. Before he met you, he hadn't cared so deeply about anything or anyone. He hadn't known what to do when he fell for you, except sink his teeth in and never let go.

Just the thought of life without you made him so sick, he fell to his knees on the spot. He fought his shaky voice and managed to utter an apology, begging for a chance to correct himself.

He isn't good with humility or patience or prostration. But he is honest. He does love you. He'll do anything for you, even act right.

You knew him well enough to believe his words. You also (rightly) pitied him. In the end you agreed that if he cleaned up his act, you wouldn't cut him off.

For now, he's on probation, seeing you once every eight days or so. He's not strong enough to go longer than that without being near you. In between those pressure control days, he journals, meditates, and reads self-help books. He'll even exercise more than he ever did before, because studies claim that it helps with emotional regulation. He thinks it's all stupid. He hopes it works and you think better of him. He continues this way for months.

The result? He isn't biting off your male friends' heads anymore. He isn't trying to monopolize your time. He doesn't obsessively check your location and text you like crazy. A touchy friend says hi to you at a cafe, and he doesn't get angry at them for interrupting and hugging you, he just says hi back. It's actually pleasant to hang out together in public again. For you, it's like the friend you made so long ago has actually come back. You don't ever say it, but he thinks you might believe he's actually over you.

He forgives you for that, and for the threat of leaving. He knows your peace is important to you, so you just said what you thought was best. And him...he'll stop with the outbursts, bury all of the feelings he's wrestling with. See? He changes for you. How many of your ex friends and lovers can say the same?

But there's nothing you can do about your missing possessions ex post facto. He still struggles, like anyone with bad habits. There's always an urge to come closer to you, to cradle you to his chest, to kiss you stupid. Just...let him keep the chapstick and the t-shirts, at least. He can tide himself over with the lingering scent of your favorite products.

And, of course, the anger remains simmering under his skin. It comes in waves, he notices, after every doubt and concern. Your casual smile at another person, for a split second, makes his gut churn before the heat of rage washes over him. After he sends a text you don't respond to, his heart sinks, and then it catches fire. He's always scared first. Maybe the journaling isn't so stupid if it can show him these patterns.

The problem is, he can't kill the source of his fear unless he can have you all to himself. That's not happening anytime soon.

So he's still struggling his way through your time together. You hang out like normal people, having dinner at a new restaurant before strolling down the street on a cool summer evening. Almost no one is outside, creating the sense that you two exist in your own little pocket dimension. You decide to go down a little alleyway, a shortcut that never presents any problems.

Somehow, a throw-away comment of his makes you laugh, and he wants to take the sound and inject it into his veins. The glory of your approval is bittersweet. He dreads the way this night will end: with you going to your place instead of coming home with him. It is all he can do, not to break the unspoken barrier between you. He wants to be optimistic. He wants to say that it's enough if you're happy, beside him right now.

As if you couldn't be happy elsewhere. As if he could be.

He can't handle thinking this way anymore, so he looks away. Just for a moment. Just to take some breaths and be something close to functional.

That's his big mistake.

The second you cry out, he turns back. You've been knocked to the ground by some staggering man, who trips over your leg and lands against a trash can. He must have come from the bar down the road because he reeks of bottom-shelf liquor.

"Son of a bitch!" The man growls. "Watch it! Watch where you're fucking going! You think you own the fucking street?"

"Fuck you!" You respond, trying to push yourself up off the ground. You hiss and stop, bringing your hand up to see that the palm is a scraped mess.

The drunk man mumbles some more curses at you and, in a fit of dionysian inspiration, kicks you.

It's not a hard blow. He's hammered, and totally out of shape besides. And maybe he never meant to hurt you at all—maybe he's just being childish and weird, his inhibitions drowned by a night of heavy drinking.

It doesn't matter to your friend.

His body has moved, he realizes, as he stares down at a pulpy mess. It used to be a face. His knuckles are raw, split from overuse. It feels like nothing at all. You're hurt, though, and the perpetrator is still breathing, so he needs to do something about that.

Without a hand gripping his collar, the drunk man splatters on the ground. He doesn't have the wherewithal to protect himself from further attacks, so with no resistance, your friend can just swing his foot into a perfectly vulnerable stomach. He does. He does it again. And again. And in the middle of this, even in his high-running emotions, he finds a sense of clarity that he's rarely afforded. Finally, someone pays the price for touching you. What a relief it is to have something nice and solid absorbing all the rage that he's always stuffing down.

You have apparently been calling his name nonstop. He only notices now as he's being yanked back by the arm. Like a spell is wearing off, he hears your voice. You sound far away, at first, the way you do in dreams. As he becomes aware of his pounding heart and aching knuckles, your muffled voice becomes clear.

"What the hell are you doing? Stop! You'll kill him!"

He's obedient, if you recall, so he stops. He turns to you, panting and shaking out his hand. Strangely, you flinch and back up. Your eyes are wide, your mouth pressed shut.

You've...never looked at him that way. He's irritated and embarrassed you, but nothing he's done has ever scared you.

He should worry about this, but he can't help smiling. You're so cute when you're frightened. You belong in his arms, where he can keep you safe.

He pulls you into him and squeezes you tight. As much as you do tremble, there's not an ounce of resistance from you as he does this. You are having the same epiphany is him right now—that he would never hurt you, that anyone who did would pay sevenfold.

But while he is imagining himself as your knight, you're thinking of all the strangers and friends who may be unkind, however briefly, to you. You're thinking of how sharp this man's memory is and how casually you complained about exes or classmates or coworkers when you thought everything was okay.

"It's okay. You're safe," he whispers into your hair, relishing the close contact.

He's going to stay good for you. It'll be easy now, knowing where to put all the excess energy.

[bahrtofane]

here we go again - pt.3

pt. 1 , pt.2

jude x fem!reader , trent x fem!reader

empty promise after another leaves you walking in the cold. alone. on valentines day. youre never speaking to another player again. or will you? can things be forgiven?

Word count - 1.9K +

Watch it - reader so sad but dw bae it gets better ! jude. Just jude. hehehe

—--

Madrid is bleak and bland when you get back, eager to find a routine, to busy yourself with anything, everything.

It's almost like there's a big joke being played on you because you're given Jude to create promotional posters for. It makes you want to cry, but you suck it up, download the pictures and get to work. Even if you have to scribble his face out the whole time.

Avoiding Jude becomes your obsession. You make it your top priority to avoid seeing him in person under any and all costs. You refuse to go anywhere near the stadium, training facilities. Blocking official accounts and avoiding tv when you know they're set to play.

You find jude everywhere. In the cracks of sidewalks where flowers bloom. Inside coffee shops when the smell of vanilla hits your face, under bridges where graffiti of smiley faces litter the concrete. 

His presence looms over the city like a specter, mocking your attempts to move on. You long for the day when his memory no longer haunts you, when you can walk through Madrid without feeling his presence at every turn.

Until then, you cling to the hope that time will heal the wounds he left behind, and that one day, you'll be able to reclaim the city as your own. But for now, Madrid remains a bleak and lonely place, haunted by the ghost of a love lost.

—-

Trent calls you about a week after you land, in the middle of your morning routine.

“How are you?”

You stifle a sigh, picking at your nails, “I'm really just peachy Trent,” padding over to your kitchen, opening the fridge.

“You know what I mean.”

You grab what you need, using your hip to close the fridge “I don't know why you keep calling me Trent. I'm fine. Tell jude to fuck off yeah?”

You hear a sigh from the other end, “jude has nothing to do with me checking up on you.”

“Sure.” you hang up. And he doesn’t call again.

—--

The office is always full of energy on match days, and you hate how it's become a tradition to all watch together. Weather in the stands or from the actual office. Your desire to show up in a barca jersey is very very strong.

Today is one day where you walk single file to the stadium and find your seats. Curse working for madrid, it brings you a little too close to the pitch for comfort. You spend half the game on your phone, even when your coworkers gently nudge your shoulder when Jude speeds to the post, you mumble something about work that needs to be done (you're on your settings.)

Jude scores, of course he does. And it's a beautiful goal, straight power, nothing but net. You're up cheering before you can stop yourself, smiling. You're smiling at Jude scoring. 

He jogs over to the crowd per usual, caught up in the adrenaline. He doesn't think he'll ever get used to scoring at home. The feeling is unbeatable. His eyes scan the crowd, and they just so happen to land on you. 

You're here? The cheers of the crowd fade out, his arms falling to his side, he's staring right at you. He's taken back to the night he left you alone. He’s a fucking idiot. You don't look away, if anything you lean forward in your seat. You're here. 

—--

Against better judgment he goes looking for you after the game. Running down hallways still in his kit, looking a mess with grass stuck all over him. At least he managed to kick his cleats off and grab the nearest slides he could find. He's pretty sure these aren't his but he doesn't care. Not right now.

He knows the staff tend to hang around after games, the issue is where.

Curse the never ending construction. The  place is a maze, an awful one without, with it feels like he's entering a different dimension at every turn.

He hears laughing and speeds down to find himself in a lounge full of people, all who rush to him to sing praises. He smiles. Trying not to get blinded by flash photography. A voice cuts through the crowd, a soft laugh. 

You're here. Oh you're here. 

He sees you tuck a piece of paper into a folder, smiling softly, patting the back of what he assumes to be a coworker as you make your way to the exit.

He tries to get past the people who surround him, but you're already gone. He's lost you again, all while you were right in front of him.

He goes home that night unable to sleep, eat, think. He blames himself, of course he does. It's his fault isn't it?

Somewhere during his night routine he thinks that there's an ounce of hope to fix this. 

He calls trent. 

“I don't know man.” Trent mumbles on the other end. 

“I gotta at least try right?” 

There's a beat of silence that lasts a moment too long, “if that's what you want.”

Jude thanks him for his time anyway. Tucking himself into bed. 

He scrolls through instagram on his burner account, finding your account again. The request button taunts him, but he knows you wont accept. Instead clicking on your profile picture, watching it take up his screen and he sighs. He really has to get his life together doesn't he.

—--

The next time Jude sees you is at an event. Black tie in a nearby hotel. He misses getting ready with you for these, with all your products and accessories lining his sink while he watched you fondly.

“Do I look okay?” you would ask each time, leaning a hand on the sink while the other smoothed down the creases on your dress. Doing a once over in his mirror.

He would hum softly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, “you look amazing.”

You'd blush, swatting him away playfully. Pressing a kiss to his cheek and promising to see him there.

The same mirror now stares back at him cooly. His sink is empty, as his house is. He misses the smell of your perfume, your clothes that littered his space. He misses how you made it a home.

He sees you there all the same, mingling with your coworkers. You look amazing, that hasn't changed. The dark circles under your eyes have, two purple half moons stamped rather aggressively on your skin. How long has it been since you got proper nights rest jeez.

He makes his rounds to everyone. Brand ambassadors, staff, teammates, a list of high profile people he doesn't care to repeat. He leaves your little corner last on purpose. He doesn't want anything to get in the way.

He slides over to where you hug a glass of water to your chest, nodding along to something a man in a blue suit is saying. Pfft blue what a rookie choice. Jude is in all black, did you notice? It was your favorite on him.

You did notice, and try to suppress the desire to hurl when he walks over to you. 

Jude gets to say no more than a sloppy greeting in Spanish before he's grabbed by the arm and taken back to where he thinks the owner of the hotel is standing.

You sigh in relief, and he sighs in frustration.

Fate has driven you apart once more it seems.

—--

Jude is a stubborn stubborn man. You can't seem to outrun him, no matter how many calls and texts you ignore, or block his accounts. Nor how you manage to slip out from right in front of him. Fate is on his side today it seems.

He shows up to your office, flowers in hand. Your favorite flowers, tied neatly with a ribbon of your favorite color, a card neatly tucked under the petals. 

Your coworkers are in uttersock, not even trying to hide their surprise as he marches over to your desk.

You type faster, ignoring him, or trying to. The gazes on you burn, almost as much as they did on the night he left you to rot. Why is he here?

“Hey,” he tries, meekly. He wants to punch himself in the face. Hey? Really? 

You don't look up from your monitor, opening more tabs, swiping your mouse against your desk furiously. You think the battery just fell out.

“Listen, I know I'm horrible, a piece of shit, the worst man alive, I don't deserve you in the slightless. But I love you.” he scrambled out in one breath.

You whip your head up at him,”love? You love me so much you took me to a club on valentines day?”

He winces, “it was so stupid. I'm so stupid. Please, let me make it up to you.” he pleads. 

You sigh, throwing your head back in your chair, rolling your eyes,”are you actually going to change Jude. Are you going to stop this nonsense and treat me like you actually mean what you say?”

“Yes,” he nods furiously, “I promise. Not a day will go by without me proving it to you, I swear.”

You look back at him. He's worn your favorite cologne, the sweater you used to always steal on cold nights. The flowers are beautiful. You missed him, you missed him so much, to the point that you're really considering it. 

Someone coughs in the cubicle next to you and you groan, gathering your things and hastily walking to the door, motioning for Jude to follow.

He looks like a newborn puppy, almost tripping on his feet while he follows you through hallways and corridors till you reach a stairwell you know for certain no one will walk through.

“Jude, I hope you know what you did broke me, it really broke me. I think you ruined my ego, permanently.”

He nods, leaning on the railing while he clutches the bouquet with so much force you're scared they're going to be wrung like a wet rag. 

“But,” you raise a finger to him, “ and this is a big big but, if you can prove these things instead of saying them, i'll consider giving you another proper chance okay?”

You see the tension visibly ease from his shoulders as he sighs softly, “Okay, yes, thank you. Thank you so much,” he brings the flowers forward, waiting for you to take them.

And you do, gently picking the note from the petals, you'll read this when you get home.

“I uh also, booked a dinner of your favorite place in a few days, in case you were willing to give me another chance i didn't want to mess it up again and if you don't have anything else going on and i just-” you take his hand in yours, stopping his ramblings effectively as he looks away. All of a sudden so shy as if you haven't stayed at his place for days at a time.

“I'll go Jude. I'm free, don't worry.”

“Great. 7 sound good?”

“Sounds perfect. Ill see you then okay?”

“Okay,” he mumbles, soft and sweet.

With a smile you send him off, almost flying down the stairs in pure glee. You shake your head fondly, heading back to your work. The flowers weigh more than just their physical weight. The letters feel like a ton on its own.

You hope you made the right choice.

[xanaduclover]

⋆ 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆 ⋆ | 𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏 𝒋𝒂𝒆𝒈𝒆𝒓

softdom!eren x female reader

w: after sex, emotional, reader is a little sensitive, crying from the reader, etc.

~ ♤♢☾ ♤♢☾ ♤♢☾ ♤♢☾ ~

You were breathing heavily, your chest rising and falling dramatically. You were a sweaty mess and the room was hot. Eren was still inside of you as you lay on his chest, trying to catch your breath. He was also trying to breathe but he seemed like he was in much better shape than you.

"You okay?" he asked. His voice was husky. "Yeah.." You said tiredly, you were so out of it that your eyes were almost closing. "Good," he sighed, kissing your forehead. "I love you," you told him. "I love you more." He responded.

"Are you going to stay tonight?" Eren asked you, sometimes you would leave right after you slept with him and this time he wanted to make sure you wouldn't. "Yes." You whispered. He hummed, kissing the top of your head again.

Eren moved so that you both were under the covers. You snuggled up to his side, and rested your head on his shoulder. "You were crying..why?"

You didn't want to admit it, but you were a sensitive lover. You couldn't help it. Every time you and Eren had sex, you would get emotional. Whether it was too good or you just felt so loved, you couldn't control it.

"Just emotional…is all." you trailed off, closing your eyes. "Emotional about what, sweetheart?" Eren asked you. You didn't say anything. "Baby? Why were you crying?" He pressed again.

"I don't know, Eren... it's just that sometimes, I look at you and I see this wonderful man, who takes care of me and loves me. Like no man has had, or ever will."

You paused, looking up at him. "And I just..I don't know..it's stupid.." you whispered, tears coming to your eyes.

"Hey." Eren started, tilting your chin up, "It's not stupid. If you have something to say, tell me. I want to hear what's on your mind." He told you. You wiped your eyes and smiled at him. "I don't know why I'm tearing up, I'm not sad...” I laugh quietly.

Eren smiled down at you. "It’s okay..." He wiped the remaining tears from your face and kissed your forehead. "Now..tell me what's on your mind." He repeated. You thought about it for a second.

"It's just..I never imagined this. Like us, together. I’ve always wanted someone like you. Someone who was gentle with me, but didn't treat me like I was weak..and now that I finally have it..it's hard to believe." You whispered, tracing your fingers along his chest.

Eren nodded, thinking about your words. He wrapped his arm around you and held you closer to him. "Well, you have it. And you always will." He told you. You sighed contentedly, snuggling deeper into his arms. "You had me worried there. l thought I did something wrong." He chuckled.

You both laid there, the light from the moonlight gleaming off of both of your bodies. "Y/n?" he mumbled sleepily. "Yes, Eren..." you whispered.

"Can you promise me something?" he asked you softly. His voice was low and husky, as if he were falling asleep. You looked at him and smiled softly.

"Anything, Eren," you responded.

Eren rolled over and looked at you, caressing your cheek. His eyes were gentle and kind, as always. "Promise me you'll never leave me. You will always be by my side. I don't want to lose you.." You sighed and smiled at him.

"I promise..."

~ ♤♢☾ ♤♢☾ ♤♢☾ ♤♢☾ ~

AN - i know it’s short, but i will post longer fics in the future.

[squiiv]

don't forget to kiss me!

..or else you'll have to miss me!

—    pavitr prabhakar x gn!reader

*reader knows that pav is spiderman

somewhat based off of ‘glue song’ by the one and only beabadoobee!

!!NOT PROOFREAD!!

☆ …

𒁷 sfw! 

𒁷 cw// a ton of smooching, clinginess, cheesy, pav is a little cutie patootie i love him :(

♥ waking up first thing in the morning to see your boyfriend peacefully sleeping, wrapped in your arms, clinging on to you as if he’ll lose you if he even dares to let go.

♥ you attempt to sit up, only to be brought closer (you're not even sure how it was possible to be even closer than you already were) to your boyfriend..he just can't let you go!

♥ after 20 long minutes, you've decided you should definitely get out of bed now, the two of you had already laid like this together for a long while..he won't mind, right?

♥ you were wrong. when you told your lovely, charming..boyfriend..that you needed to get up, this news only upset him.

“pav…. i really need to get up now.” you sighed, still holding on tightly to his figure. his eyes were still half closed, his long eyelashes batting against his face once he blinked to look up at your face, only to be met with a frown. once the words fully registered in his head, he pouts, “but..you promised you would stay in with me today..you wouldn't want to disappoint the spiderman, would you..?” 

you laugh softly at his words, you really didn't want to leave him, but some unexpected business came up. you began running your fingers through his hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “i know, i know. i don't want to leave you..but i'll be back so, so soon. you won't even notice i'm gone.” he pulls you in even closer, burying his head back into your chest. “can't you just do it later..? you're so warm..i could sleep here forever if it meant i would get to stay in your arms.” 

“...really?” you sigh, not denying the words he said did sound nice. you wish you could stay here forever with him, separated from the hectic lives you both lived. “i'm serious..! if i could stay here with you forever, i would be the happiest man alive..” you blush at his words, he always makes being forward seem so..easy. “i…i'm sorry, my love. i wish i could stay, i really do.” 

“..it's fine. i'll let you leave, if you promise me something..!” you're met with a disappointed look on pav’s face, and it only makes you feel even worse for leaving him like this. “oh, don't be sad..please. i promise, i'll do anything you wish, okay?” 

you start pressing soft kisses all over his face, starting with his forehead, down to his cheeks, and finally placing one on his lips. you continue peppering his face with soft, love-filled kisses, as you cup his cheeks with your hands. once you pull away, you finally see the blush covering his full face.

“my love, my darling..there isn't a single moment of us being apart from each other where i don't think about you and when i'll see you again..you brighten up my world, you lighten my every day.” he seems taken aback at your words, eyes widening ever so slightly. he then smiles, cupping your cheek in his hand while pressing a soft, gentle kiss to your lips as well.

“i love you so, so much my dear…i'm so glad i get to start and end every single day with you in my arms..i couldn't be happier.” he smiles, genuine love in his gaze as he makes eye contact with you. “now…promise me that tomorrow, we can stay here together all day in each other's arms..please?” he pleads, earning a soft grin from you.

“of course. nothing would make me happier than to spend my day wrapped up like this with you. i promise, when i get home later i’ll be back with presents in hand for you, alright?” you chuckle, pressing one last kiss to his forehead.

“i'll be waiting for you here…my love.”

this was my first fic btw, so i hope it's somewhat decent..😭 idk if i'll start posting on here or not! this was just a little test and i've been thinking about pav non stop lol ^_^ please remember he is a MINOR so i will not be posting anything nsfw. if i do end up posting on here my works will mostly be sfw!! i hope u enjoyed :)

P.S: ik in the description i said it was based off of glue song but it kinda isn't. i started writing this with the idea of that but i ended up forgetting about it.

[mewnewew]

Sir Crocodile x Reader

Guess who deleted another one of their posts. Again. On another note, a few more edits and then I'll send out the sequel to the Boxer! Stay tuned!

It was early on in their relationship. He'd gone to clear up some pirates coming to Alabasta, doing his job as "hero". Routine work, not a hard job at all. The country was a sand based country anyway, and with him having a sand based power, what did you expect?

However, just before he walked out the door, she grabbed his hook. He'd noticed that, by the way. She was never afraid of the hook. She'd seen what it could do very well, oh yes. But never, ever shied or moved away from it. She had grabbed his hook and looked up at him, stars in her eyes.

"Promise you'll come back to me?"

Now, Crocodile had married her for the sake of appearances, really. She was not drop dead pretty nor the most financially smart person. In fact she was quite plain. He'd married her cause she was from a noble family who didn't have any major issues in their closet. Neither a very fixed relationship with the Marines.

Sure he'd bring her to parties and sleep in the same bed as her, but he didn't spend a lot of time with her. He'd see her sometimes during breakfast and give enough money for her to outright buy 3 decently sized shops. Yet she was sweet with him. And not ditzy kind of sweet, but genuinely sweet. She'd crack jokes to try to get him to laugh or even make a reaction. She'd tell him about her day and try to pry into what his day was as well. All with a smile on those lips.

So to answer her question, the only thing he did was exhale, pat her head and move on.

She kept doing that whenever she knew he was heading out to fight pirates. And he'd give her the same reaction every time.

To be honest, their relationship was essentially a business contract. She seemed to understand that in the first couple of weeks, and this suited Crocodile just fine. He didn't want a simpering wife who'd be too clingy or too loud.....pathetic.

One night though, things changed. Two bottle of vodka changed all that. Made him start to stay around, start to slowly lean into her, listening to what she wanted to say, to her jokes, to her chatter.

He had come back late after a hard night at the office. He hung up his coat, whisking it off his person with his sand, already thinking of the next day's job and suddenly felt a small object collide with his legs. A small, giggling, and very drunk object.

"Hehehe~...." chuckled the object.

He looked down and saw his wife, who was drunk, and clutched a bottle in her hand, grinning like a lunatic up at him. Her face was slightly red and her eyes glazed over. He hooked the back of her shirt which seemed oversized on her (was that...his?) And lifted her up to his eye level. She giggled and clutched the bottle to her chest with both hands now.

"You're back!" She cheered.

He raided an eyebrow.

"You're drunk." He stated.

"I got boooored!" She whined letting one hand go forwards and trying to grab at his face. He shifted her slightly backwards and frowned at her.

"So you got drunk? How does that make sense?"

"I didn't have anything to do! You weren't there, and I wanted to wait for you" she slurred, now in a whiny tone.

He sighed, moving towards the kitchen.

"How many bottles did you have?"

"Uh.....two?"

"Two? You got bored enough to drink two whole bottles of..." He leaned forwards reading the label.

"....Vodka." She burped, causing him to twist his face in disgust and hold her away from him again.

He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, and started going towards the kitchen.

"We need to get some water into you"

20 minutes and some negotiations about drinking the water later, she was sitting quiet on the bedside. He continued to get ready for bed, not paying her any mind. Honestly he was happy this was over and wouldn't be much of a problem anymore.

"You're very silly, y'know that?"

He froze, blinking at the still open closet before turning his head to see her drowsily watching him, a giddy smile on her face.

"....What?"

"You're so silly!" She repeated with the same joy.

He snorted, closing the closet sharply and walked over to her.

"You're drunk. Go to sleep."

She moved to stand on the bed shakily and cupped his cheeks. Crocodile froze. What the literal fuck was this woman doing? He should throw away all the liquor in the house immediately and-

In the softest voice Crocodile had ever heard from her, she spoke:

"You're the most beautiful being in all the four seas to me"

Crocodile's eyes widened. And distantly, a million and some miles away, an outrageously tall man with sunglasses felt ticked off for no rhyme or reason.

She then smiled prettily again and hugged him, leaning on him. Crocodile stood frozen for a few moments, till he heard some soft snores. This idiot had fallen asleep on him.

He carefully pulled her off him and lay her down on the mattress, pulling the sheet up to her shoulders. He stared at her sleeping figure for a few moments, then left the room. He needed a cigar.

In the coming weeks, his wife would be pleasantly surprised to see her husband be more receptive, by staying to eat more meals with her, and speaking more, if ever so little to her. She wouldn't ever know that those drunken words caused a small growth in her surly husband. She made him develop a crush on her.

[screamlet]

2024 Tumblr Top 10

tagged by @rcmclachlan​!!! what a fun journey through time, especially because this is the first time i've been in a tumblr-centric fandom... ever.

Share your top 10 tumblr posts from last year! Visit this site, scroll down to "Find your Tumblr Top 10," type in your username, and select 2024. When you get the results, simply click "Share to Tumblr" and you'll get an auto-generated draft for a post with links and previews. Make any adjustments you see fit.

---

1. 558 notes - Nov 9 2024

Another hospital room. Buck takes a deep breath and closes his eyes again, letting it out and hoping he gets back to sleep. It doesn’t happen, though, because his brain catches up to his eyes: Maddie, wearing a yellow paper hospital mask, a hand anxiously on her belly, sitting in the chair next to him with that too-familiar oh-thank-god-you’re-finally-awake face… and Tommy leaning in the doorway.

this is from break and be mended, the 4.5k bucktommy fix-it fic i vomited up literally two days after the breakup aired. the spirit (of anger and spite) moved me i guess

2. 406 notes - Sep 17 2024

so imagine: s8e1, many bees, zero tommy until another last 5 minutes of the episode, the jeep pulling up to this small house...

this little whatever from a week before the s8 premiere when we thought the bees would be something and/or tommy would do anything and/or we would ever see tommy’s fucking house. the dodgeball of apollo missed me on every count.

3. 400 notes - Oct 4 2024

“well we’re so happy the co-pilot’s awake! everything’s gonna be just fine and we can land this plane now” god don’t they know they’re in part two of a three-part season opener, they did this to themselves

this random post from an episode live blog and it wouldn’t have gone anywhere without @dadvans​ and the assist, god this still makes me laugh

4. 232 notes - Dec 8 2024

It’s not until the elevator starts moving that he hears it through the doors: “Tommy! Tommy, wait—Tommy!”

the fic post for a wolf without a foot, my 34k bucktommy fix-it fic that just... 😐 i might write a buck interstitial to this one because buck’s (lack of) presence in it continues to bug me. no promises!!!!

5. 222 notes - Aug 28 2024

The plan doesn't involve kissing Evan, this man he's met three times. Disaster rescue, work tour, basketball disaster, Evan's apartment right now—four times. This is only the fourth time he's ever laid eyes on Evan Buckley, but Evan Buckley hasn't fucking blinked since he stepped into the room. Has Tommy?

for a random wip wednesday, i posted the whole tommy pov scene of The First Kiss from what are your intentions? and it’s still getting notes four and a half months later. this poor man!!! what’s a terrified gay to do!!!!!

6. 214 notes - Dec 11 2024

Tommy has one arm firmly around Buck and one finger pointing at Sal. "I'm from LA. When the hell would I have seen a live chicken?"

aw, this cute @118dailydrabble​ where buck learns about Maurice the Chicken while hanging out with tommy, sal, and bobby.

7. 213 notes - Dec 20 2024

Buck reads to himself: If my grief is violent enough, perhaps he will come back to life again... "Mayday, mayday, mayday, companies respond to an explosion at Harbor Station."

the beginning of blow up that chopper!!!!

8. 204 notes - Nov 16 2024

"Yeah, pretty much. You got some good parts, though. The really good ones." He swallows past the lump in his throat, and means it when he says, "I wouldn't give you any less." "But I wanted all of them," Evan says. "You gave me less, Tommy. Don't think you did me some favor, here. You didn't. You gave me less."

a wip wednesday excerpt from a wolf without a foot, gahhhhhhh yes it still kills me, too

9. 201 notes - Nov 26 2024

my favorite part of the bucktommy breakup fic explosion is seeing each writer focus on THE thing that bugs them most about this breakup and/or breakups in general...

"confessions” aired almost exactly two months ago and man has this fandom been a fucking ride since then

10. 198 notes - Dec 9 2024

unfortunately kinley cafe posits a REALLY interesting coffee shop au where the fluffy gay owners break up and a whole neighborhood has to scheme to get them back together so they don't sell the cafe

where is this coffee shop au!!!!!!!!!!!

tagging: YOU, YES, YOU

[onceuponapuffin]

Fanatic Intervention Part 14!!!

Happy Birthday to regular reader and commenter @ritz-writes !! :D

Here's the sculpture mentioned in the fic: https://noma.org/collection/history-of-the-conquest/

You'll notice that the poll at the bottom isn't anything suuuuper important. There's just some plot things that I want to get running in the next section, so I'm gonna be writing it up and posting it tomorrow. But I promise you that it's still an important choice to make (also idk what to pick so that means you all get to pick lol ).

Okay! Here we go! Back to New Orleans with The Anti-Apocalypse Crew!

Beginning || Previous || Next

*************************

Now that you all were in the city, it only took Anathema the next morning to hone in on her signal. To Aziraphale's delight, it led you all to the sculpture garden at the New Orleans Museum of Art. To your delight, it led more specifically to a sculpture of a person riding a snail (to victory no doubt).

"I think this might be my favourite statue ever," You say aloud (because this author is assuming you would agree with her opinion). There is a person you don’t know standing in front of the statue. He gives a dissatisfied huff.

"It's called 'History of the Conquest,'" he tells you, despite not being asked, "The ever-slow and over-confident march of the entitled towards a future where they're in charge. Everyone else suffers while they promise glory and prosperity."

Your jaw drops open. This person looks like a 'surfer dude,' but is talking like someone who's spent most of their life in a cubicle changing 1s to 0s for 8 straight hours a day.

"WOW! That is BLEAK," is what finally comes out of your mouth. "Proper ray of sunshine, you are."

Okay, that sounded really British. You briefly wonder about the effect of spending so much time around Crowley and Aziraphale before Surfer Dude starts to laugh.

"I've seen a few things, human. Been 'round longer than you've been alive, will be long after you die. You're no more than a moth in my eyes."

"Wow," You can't help but repeat yourself, "Again, bleak." Also rude, but priorities.

"It is what it is," Surfer Dude replies. You shake your head and turn to Aziraphale and Crowley.

"You're up," You concede. You have no idea who this is, but he called you "human," and compared you to a moth. Whoever this person is, they’re probably the one Anathema’s had you looking for. He doesn’t look like Jesus, but maybe he will know where Jesus is. Either way, Anathema doesn’t get things wrong. If her work brought you to this person, then he’s the person you need to talk to.

That being said, whoever this is, he's the Ineffable Husbands' department and not yours. Sometimes you just gotta tap out and let the celestials handle their own kind. Now, this doesn't mean that you're not going to sit back and watch. Oh no, you want to see how this plays out.

"Can I have some popcorn?" You stage-whisper to Crowley as you pass him.

"Piss off," Crowley stage-whispers back. Despite his complaint, you notice a tiny Michael-Sheen smile on Aziraphale's face, and you return to Anathema, who looks surprised and is holding two small cartons of popcorn. You gratefully take one and have a seat on a convenient bench that is located conveniently within earshot. This is gonna be good.

"Hello," Aziraphale begins as he approaches, "I'm Aziraphale."

"Right," Surfer Dude says with a roll of his eyes, "The Angel of the Eastern Gate. I'm so honoured."

"Here I thought manners were important to angels," Crowley replies, sidling up next to Aziraphale. Surfer-Dude-Who-Is-Apparently-An-Angel takes in Crowley and raises an eyebrow.

"And here I thought demons didn't make a habit of hanging off angels' arms," Surfer Dude scoffs in in return.

Crowley snarls.

"Yes, well, each of us seems to be an anomaly in our own right," Aziraphale says with an appeasing smile, "This is Crowley. Might we have the pleasure of knowing your name?"

"No."

"Ah, right. Well, that is to your own discretion I suppose."

"Rude is what it is," sneers Crowley.

"Regardless, we've come to this garden with the guidance of our friend here, hoping to find, well, Jesus as it happens."

Surfer-Dude-Angel-Person throws his head back and laughs outright.

"You're looking for who now? JESUS? HA! Bit of soul-searching for you, is it? Spiritual journey? Pilgrimage to the Holy Land? You're in the wrong place for that!" He keeps laughing.

I mean, you get the laughter. It definitely sounds weird to a third party. Crazy even. But if this guy is an angel, then shouldn't it sound perfectly reasonable?

"Oi," Crowley interrupts, clearly impatient, "We're trying to save the world here. And since angels don't normally take holiday time, I'd think helping us might be in your best interest."

"You think you can stop the Second Coming? Ha! There isn't another technicality that you can throw around this time. This one's it. Enjoy the giant snail statues while they last, because it won't be for much longer."

"You know an awful lot," You call from the bench, "And you like to talk. So just get to the part about Jesus so we can leave you to be miserable on your own." You popcorn is already almost finished, and you frown into your carton. If only you could do miracles. You'd refill it yourself.

Surfer-Dude-Angel-Person laughs again.

"Yeah, okay, I like this one," he says, nudging a thumb in your direction. He turns away from Crowley and Aziraphale and strides towards you. Suddenly your popcorn carton is full again, so you look up. Okay, maybe he's not so bad. He reaches out a hand to you.

"Call me Sardis, Little Moth."

After a moment of hesitation, you shake his hand. He turns back to Crowley and Aziraphale.

"I can see why you've adopted this one," he says, then turns his attention to Anathema, paying no mind to the garbled protests coming from Crowley. "And since we're doing introductions...?"

"Anathema Device," says Anathema with a nod. She would probably shake his hand, but between her equipment and her popcorn, her hands are full.

"Lovely to meet you, Miss Anathema," Sardis nods at her before finally looking back at Aziraphale and Crowley. "You won't find Jesus here. But meet me for drinks later and I'll tell you what you need to know to find him."

"You're unnecessarily cryptic, Sardis," You say with a raised eyebrow and a mouth full of popcorn. He laughs again.

"Well, Little Moth," his eyes have a sparkle in them now as he looks at you, "Gotta keep myself entertained somehow."

Sardis insists on giving you all a tour of the sculpture garden, but refuses to say anything more about Jesus, or how he knows about Armageddon, or why he isn't in Heaven, or anything else that you actually WANT to talk about. He insists that such talk isn't for a quiet garden full of art. It isn't until he lays a cryptic finger beside his nose and winks at you that something clicks in your memory.

Remember, back before JK Rowling turned out to be an awful person, back when everyone read Harry Potter? EVERYONE, RIGHT?? Perhaps, dear Reader, you remember the chapter in book 5 where Hermione calls a meeting at The Hog's Head because it’s less crowded. Hermione figures the sparse crowd means that there are fewer people to see them together. Perhaps you also remember when, later in the book, this action comes back to bite them, and they are told very sternly that they should have met at the Three Broomsticks precisely BECAUSE it was busier. A busy pub meant they would have been less likely to be overheard.

Suddenly you look around the garden and notice the sparse, but very much there, collection of people. Just the right number of people that could listen to your conversation if they wanted to without you being any the wiser. Oh.

Oh.

Maybe the cryptic is a little bit necessary after all. He’s still overdoing it in your opinion, but whatever floats his goat.

You part ways after his tour, agreeing to meet at a local bar at 9pm. There’s enough time to go back to the hotel, freshen up, and get something to eat before you make your way there.

“Well,” Aziraphale says back at the hotel, “This Sardis certainly is a character.”

“I know the name from somewhere,” You trail off in thought. Where have you heard it before? Sardis…Tardis…Sardine….You’re not sure, but it rings a bell.

Anathema is already flipping through notebooks. Aziraphale has picked up his copy of the Bible, and Crowley is on his phone. You figure everyone else has it covered, and sure enough, it’s Crowley who finds it first. Google, no doubt.

“Ha! Found the sod! He’s in Revelation.”

“Oh!” You practically jump as recognition finally hits. “He’s one of the seven angels! The ones we didn’t think were here!”

“You didn’t think any of them were here?” Anathema asks, “Did you even check, or did you just assume?”

“Well Muriel said…” You go quiet, before clearing your throat and trying again. “We didn’t look into it far at all, no.”

“So exactly what work did you do before you called me?”

“Umm…….” You say.

“Nnngggh” Crowley adds.

“A great deal less than we thought at the time, apparently,” Aziraphale finally admits with a sigh.

“You are all really bad at saving the world.” Anathema shakes her head.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

Beginning || Previous || Next

[bookishtheaterlover7]

Divorce lawyer reader encountering laurie again unphased y/n took andy frm him

Worth It

Andy Barber x Divorce Lawyer!Reader

a/n: Hey, An🫶n, and my other beautiful readers! So sorry it's taken me a while to post any new stories, asks, or anything remotely interesting other than my rants and shade. It's been a tough month... For now, this is going to, hopefully, be 1 of 3 fics before November. Let me just say, I'm insane for challenging myself like this, but ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Anyway, sit back and enjoy the fic!

WARNINGS!!! Some cursing (calling of slut, one mention of Fuck), pet names, mention of the car crash, mention of near death, mention of therapy, Andy is one seductive little shit, maternal figure!Y/N.

*Y/S/N = Your SurName

**F/P = Favorite Pastry

***F/C/D = Favorite Cafe Drink

Her alarm rang obnoxiously loud, but Y/N didn't seem to mind as she reached out to her bedside table to turn it off, before snuggling back into the man sleeping peacefully beside her. As they were in the process of effectively divorcing his wife, Andy had promised that as soon as it was all finalized, she can expect for there to be some of the biggest changes in her life. And safe to say Atty. Y/N *Y/S/N, wasn't disappointed, and may never get tired of it all.

She wrapped her arms around the slender torso of her boyfriend. They'd been together for about two years now, despite having a rocky start, their feelings blossomed into the most beautiful thing that neither of the two have ever experienced before. And that fact was once again proven, when the girl's snuggling and attempt at burrowing had pulled a reaction from the unsurprisingly gorgeous man.

"You know that will only make you late, if not later, than normal, Baby Girl, right?" Andy smirked, eyes remaining closed, hiding the mischief behind them.

"So... What if I do want to be late? Hmm?" Y/N replied, her cheeky grin growing with each second, as she took to placing light kisses on the side of her Love's neck.

"Then you'll have to explain to a very moody 16-year-old, why he missed at least three periods... And you know you can't reason with him, or his teachers." Andy laughed.

"Fuck!" Y/N sighed, laying flat in disappointment.

"We never get our mornings in anymore..."

"You know we could just send, Jacob on the bus... Be some bad parents for once..." Andy whispered, pulling his girlfriend close once more, allowing him to do so, sexily, in her ear.

"No. I can't risk Laurie approaching, and basically harassing him. Again." Y/N said, pulling away from his extremely tempting arms, and sitting up.

"You know we should let her see him, again." Andy said, a hand rubbing Y/N's arm, and eventually resting on her hip, pulling him to her, as he propped himself with one arm, and scooted closer to her.

"And we will. In neutral territory, under supervision." Y/N huffed.

"You're never forgiving her, are you?" Andy said, after placing a kiss on her shoulder.

"Absolutely. Come on, Andy, we're going to be stuck at traffic if we don't start moving now." She continued, looking at the time on the clock across from the right side of the bed.

"You don't want to be called old by our son again, do you?" She added with a chuckle, getting up, and turning around to walk backwards towards the bathroom.

"No, I definitely don't! Especially if I'm going to make sure his Ma will be carrying his sibling..." Andy said, smiling with a playfulness that alluded to something more.

And it stayed on, as he charged at Y/N. Filling their home with sounds of laughter and gleeful screams. With Andy silently hoping that he'd be able to hear that sound for the rest of his life.

Jacob had had an early day off from school, considering that his Physics teacher had cancelled class to be with his 6 year old daughter, who had fallen and injured herself in PE. Andy was stuck in his office, filling paperwork after paperwork for a case he was assigned, and he'd asked Y/N to fetch Jacob from school. And she was happy to oblige.

Jacob might not be her son by blood, and he had been accused of murder, but she loved him anyway. They'd formed a unique maternal bond, and she wasn't willing to give it up for anything. Especially when Jacob accepted that she could become his step-mother at some point.

Y/N decided it'd be fun to take Jacob with her to work, considering her caseload was light, and no one minded having a teenager amongst them. Plus, Jacob had asked her how and what did she do her job, at one point. That's why she decided to buy a few snacks from the stall right outside hers and Andy's office building.

"What would you like to have bud?" She asked, smiling at him, gently holding him up as he was still suffering from partial paralysis in his left leg, from the car crash. Therapy had helped, both physically and mentally, however, it had taken two years before some feeling came back and he was able to flex his foot. However, the rest of the leg will take some time.

"I don't know, Ma... Everything looks so good, I can't decide. Am I even allowed?" Jacob asked, his eyes sparkling in a way that Y/N has only seen happen in Andy's eyes.

"Ofcourse, you're allowed, Silly! Don't tell your father that I'm letting you take two, though." She giggled conspiratorially.

"My lips are sealed." Jacob laughed, holding his crutch in one hand, while he mimed a zipper with the other.

He later picked one chocolate frosted, with chocolate chips on top, and one white frosted, with colorful sprinkles, for his donuts, along with one Mocha-latte. Y/N ordered her usual **F/P and ***F/C/D, and was in the process of paying when she heard, a motherly voice, she was definitely not in the mood to hear today.

"Jacob! Sweetie, you look so big! You've grown so much in the past two weeks..." Laurie cried, her hands on Jacob's shoulders, before she pulled him into a hug.

"Laurie, get your hands off of my son. You don't get to see him until this Saturday, you know that!" Y/N exclaimed, approaching them with fury. Her own protective motherly instincts had awoken at the sound of that woman's voice.

"Your son? Y/N surely you can't be serious. Jacob is, and always will be my son. I gave birth to him. I raised him. I protected and defended him, when no one else did!" Laurie shouted, making Jacob flinch. Y/N took hold of Jacob, gently freeing him from Laurie's clutches.

"Yeah, you did a mighty good job at that, when you tried to kill him by crashing that car." She said in an eerily calm way.

"Jacob go inside, and wait in the Lobby."

"If he died in that accident, then you'd have Andy all to yourself, you slut!" Laurie said, not caring who hears.

"You know that what happened wasn't an accident, Laurie. You pressured Jacob into confessing to something he didn't do, because that's all you believed." Y/N countered, causing Laurie to eat her words.

"You believed the worst in Jacob, and didn't care that he was innocent in all of it. And you think you deserve to be called a mother? You tried to kill him! Your own son. You don't deserve to be near Jacob or the rest of my family." She gasped, finally letting out all that she thought of Laurie in the past two years.

"If it were up to me, I'd deny you any of your parental rights. But I won't do that to Jacob, or Andy. Those two mean more to me than anything else in this world, and I will do whatever it takes to make them happy and safe." She sighed, a heavy weight lifting off of her shoulders.

"Now, go home, Laurie. Before I smack you with a restraining order. We'll see you this weekend, if you manage to stay away for that long..."

Y/N had won. She not only gave Laurie a piece of her mind, she had actually spoken a truth she knew to be true long before Andy and her had made themselves official. And as she sighed with even more relief, and turned around, she saw one handsome face and the face of a boy that's been through hell but was right there smiling, that couldn't help, but make her smile.

"Jacob and I mean more to you than anything, huh?" Andy shyly smiled, his teeth peeking through his lips.

"You do. More than you'll both ever know." Y/N replied, as she ran to the arms of her family. Content with the life she's built for herself, that's worth everything.

So, I may have gotten, little bit overboard with the request, and wrote my first ever Andy Barber fic, feat. Jacob Barber😅. I hope you don't mind, An🫶n. Your request was too good of an idea to pass up writing a full fic!🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

I also hope that this fic was a fun distraction from all this mess caused by certain people. And stay tuned, I'm not done writing yet. Because this was, sort of an energizer for me.😁

See you in the next one, my Fellow Fan Girls and Boys🫶

Chris Evans Characters Masterlist

Andy Barber Masterlist

[merao-mariposa]

I have your back, you have my heart

Day three of the pissa/death duo week! This au was the idea of @amymorningstar ​​in this post I really wanted to write about the Mafia Pissa and this was a good excuse for!

“Mafia + I promised you as long as I'm with you you'll never be alone again”

(…)

Philza Minecraft had been on the dark side of the streets for a very long, long time, since his first interventions dismantling brothels that were a little too... “flexible” with the idea of consent going to authentic inhumane places, all falling under the scourge of the Angel of Death until a man, a friend, appeared in front of him with the idea of dominating the criminal world, converting it to his ideals. That was a long time ago but corruption spreads like a fire in gasoline and Phil was there to suffocate it until it went out.

Maybe it was his cruelty in how he snuffed out the lives of those corrupt men that led him to pay the karma he was paying right now, he doesn't know.

The man sitting at his desk looked miserable for say the least, from the outside you feel the discord in the trademark half-twisted hat or the uncorked bottle of wine resting on his messy desk but you can see how the damage runs deeper than that if you know Philza well enough, the immaculate two pieces-suit stand out like a sore thumb on a man so casual and relaxed, the white shirt is buttoned at the neck almost restrictively, and his trail of beard is just a little more prominent than it has been in recent months.

The last few months, that sugar-filled almost year where mafia boss BOLAS had been closer to being an angel than he would ever be since he lived in what he could only call heaven.

His arrival in heaven was a young man with messy, dark hair. His purple eyes dragged him deep into the flames of hell now that they were no longer looking at him.

The fact that he had no one else to blame but himself didn't make it any easier.

But when Sinfonia appeared everything was perfect. He was reserved but easy to smile, aloof but with loyal friends, so pathetic (and cute) yelling at the slightest threat but he was a real threat in front of some of the most ruthless members of BOLAS, selective but had two beautiful kids who looked alike barely in the whites of the eyes, even his last name “Sinfonia” evidenced the harsh contradiction that surrounds the object of the crow's loves, a man as gifted in every possible musical instrument as if he had the Midas touch, and yet that very appropriate last name wasn't real. His Missa was a set of contradictions and embarrassing coincidences over knots in lavender stems.

Which in retrospect must have been a loud alarm, a siren announcing the disaster that his false moon left in its wake in the crow's heart.

It turns out that his love lied, the fire burning inside him to abandon important meetings for the sole purpose of sharing more time of his life with him as opposed to the absolute security of being understood as someone returning to his childhood home (beloved, cared, welcome) with the ease of riding a bike. All of that had been a waste.

The soft hugs that lulled him into deep dreams (chasing away the nightmares that Missa shouldn't know about for his own good) to the chaste kisses all over the face that released the negativity from his husband's shoulders (and if instead of being a result of his low self-esteem was his guilt taking charge?) to the private kisses that said “I miss you” and “one last time, love” without the words, all were nothing but lies.

Not that he had cared much about anything at that moment, he found himself focused on his children (because now they were also Phil's children) they were angels and he only had the head to raise them with Missa, who returned with a sweeter demeanor after his night walks and long work trips, he tenderly asked for nap together as a family.

He should have questioned more why Missa disappeared like that, coincidentally, just when Phil was paying for the services of the most dangerous mercenary on the black market, unlike the assassins he had on his payroll, this guy had the prestige of killing only with his touch, too lethal and above all cautious, Phil did not even met him in person, they only contacted through third parties who agreed on the service and only told about his violet hood and his skull mask. It is said; no one has seen his face and lived to tell.

Like I said before; Phil is old, he's been in the environment for years where only an intelligent man could live as long as he does, with that in mind how was it possible that he didn't know that his sweet husband was actually the most dangerous bastard in the underworld? Shocked by the discovery, in this kind of world, someone you trust can stab you in the back so how can you trust a man who lied to you?

And Missa knew who Philza Minecraft was, what his name means, he always knew, he did always know when something had gone wrong and Philza needed more comfort, always two steps ahead of his needs because he knew it.

The time after their fight breaks up, everything is a drunken blur in the crow's mind, he doesn't remember what they said, he only knows the screams and the revolver clicking in his left pocket while Missa, The Reaper or whoever it was have knowledge of the gun in his pocket and as soon as he pointed it at the man he said he loved time ago the gun was already on the ground, rolling behind this man who was unrecognizable to Phil, the shouting match continued more heated after the blonde pointed his gun at the helpless and clumsy Missa.

That was the last time he saw Missa.

Phil has been so distracted, tired and paranoid since then, even the security is a disaster ignoring the advice of the rest of BOLAS. Philza has scattered guards in unimportant areas, some stuck to him all day but the majority watch that Missa does not return or get close to the children (his children; Missa's own children) Chayanne almost bites him at the slightest suspicion of not being able to see his father, so his impenetrable fortress suddenly becomes a weak place.

Literally and metaphorically

He ordered several guards not to even dream of setting foot in certain areas of the family mansion (those such as the music room, the kitchen and the art studio, any room with traces of Missa must remain identical to how it was before his departure, as if they were waiting for him)

Philza feels betrayed and hurt but above all he is so confused, his rational mind tells him to defend himself, to put up the highest walls to protect himself, his organization and his family but his family is Missa. He is outside and Philza once promised that he will demolish every wall in the world that did not open its doors for the man with purple eyes.

And yet here he is.

Inside his fortress it can breathe the air of a broken family, the kids have believed him for the moment but the tension is felt increasing with every minute they pass without hearing from their papa. Inside the fortress are no longer him and his chicks but a greedy and lonely crow with two brittle shells and a broken heart.

The days pass in that agony until there is a surprise attack from which they cannot respond.

Tensions with the Federal mafia had gotten much worse in recent months, after his formal alliance with Soulfire he did not believe they were going to attack seriously.

But they did.

Thank his Goddess, thank The Lady for allowing Chayanne and Tallulah to be in the school while the white clad mercenaries broke down every door and shot at anything that moved.

At least Missa would get them back and they would be together again. Just as they should have been before he and his greedy hope for a family took that away from them.

As soon as his office door is kicked down one of those white masked sons of bitches puts his hands on him, something happens.

Penetrating in his vision when he sees him but there is stealth in his steps, he is the only one to notice his presence until two bullets (how quickly are repeated) knock down two of the men to dead, wound another in the shoulder, and the last one misses just centimeters away for paint the wall with Philza's skull.

Four shots, two fired before the reaction time of their distracted predators and attacked from the purest darkness, shots fly towards the door and if it was not absolutely broken after that rude kick it is now unusable, falling from its hinges under the siege and behind it are no signs of the mysterious shooter.

Tense seconds pass until one of the feds quickly puts one of his dirty hands in Phil's hair, pulling hard on the golden strands in a hissing threat and that's when he enters the scene.

The men on each side of the door were the first to fall, one quickly takes the place of his fallen companion, his gun raised, ready to shoot, followed by the one with the shot in the shoulder, unfortunately with that wound he is not able to shoot at time to prevent another bullet from the darkness from taking the life of the other one.

The bullets fly again while the threshold of the door swallows the corpse, dragging it out and soon, very soon, his savior enters the room with a constant step carrying the dead body as a kind of human shield.

A well-placed shot, other fall.

And the guy who touched him is one of them, his screams are muffled by his mask and by the gunshots exploding around him.

Phil hides under his desk as fast as he can but not before taking a bullet in the shoulder, it hurts like shit.

But it seems that it hurts them more because he can hear how one by one the white masks fall with sharp blows, they could barely scream in horror before fall with a fatal shott.

Fast, efficient and lethal

When it seems that the rain of bullets is ending, Phil distinguishes the voices from outside his office. That sounds like… Chainsaws? And laughs Phil knows immediately that his best people, who should be with his children, are on and from what he hears they are having fun.

He slowly peeks out of his desk, his hand warm from the blood dripping from his shoulder, and finally sees the reason of his recent insomnia.

Missa, or also known as The Reaper, moves almost with grace but the anger burns in his every movement, it is a wild spectacle as soon as the bullets run out, each man who even tries to get close to Phil is shot down with ease, he watch in trance as his husband smash anyone who tries to get close to him to pieces.

“M- Missa…?” he comes out as a dismayed whisper

The Reaper turns to look at him for half a second, which one of them takes advantage of to kick him in the stomach. Missa lets out a grunt of acute pain but holds the guy's leg with his hands, taking advantage of pushing him forward, knocking another of them against the favorite glass table.

The two guys are left on the floor, one on top of the other and one's suit is now full of glass.

And just like that Missa goes for the next one and Phil can only watch in shock.

Missa is The Reaper, The Reaper is Missa. They are both the same person; they have been forever.

Missa, his Missa is his mercenary and his mercenary is his husband.

he approaches, slowly, as slowly as he can with a bullet embedded in his shoulder. The cacophony of screams shakes the floor and Philza suddenly realizes that he must have gone down to the panic room.

The weight of not doing so clings to his shoulders, the clear implications trying to cross the capo’s tired mind like a malicious whisper makes him feels so wrong, so manipulative.

But he was waiting for him to save him

Of a thousand people in this aggressive environment who swore their loyalty to him and finds himself depending on the arrival of the one who not only never swore anything to him but also betrayed him.

Oh well, who betrayed who?

After yelling at him for lying to him when he also lied, pointing a gun at him and taking him away from his own children, he knows that the Philza of the past would have sent him to hell for ruining the things with Missa.

Missa knew who he was before, he knew it from very early on and that affected Phil, it made him feel cornered and at a disadvantage. He realized at that moment that he was afraid; he didn't fear the hitman under his roof as much as he feared the man under his sheets. feared he was so vulnerable letting him walk around the red mafia's base of operations, taking the children to school every morning, training Chayanne and hearing Tallulah's flute in the distance did terrified him, his worst nightmare was in how his heart was warmed by them so soft and gentle in the reaper's expert hands he could take out his heart and the worst thing is that he would have left it in order to see the children and Missa every morning when he woke up.

My God, he was crazy, he went crazy when he fell in love with him and even crazier when Phil sabotaged his own happiness.

Loneliness tasted bitter on his lips, power and honor became poison with the diffuse days, with his cold bed at night, with his absence piercing his chest.

The last man fell and with the elegance of a dancer stabbed by a steel dagger into his chest, he did the same with the other two men on the ground. The Reaper left no witnesses or loose ends.

He could hear in the distance Baghera and Cellbit stopping their chainsaws which was a good sign. The Federation had basically sent a mini army to his grounds and he partly wondered if his men knew that Missa was there with him.

His name tasted salty when it finally left Phil's lips in a whisper, it tasted like the tears he shed every time he was sober to remember his absence. Behind that mask it is almost impossible to perceive the purple eyes but he knows well that look that is hidden in front of him.

Missa wipes the blood on his own pants with slow movements, the dagger pressed against his thigh until it's clean enough.

“Missa…” Phil insists, he shouldn't insist to the man who has the dagger, especially when he is hurt.

The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as he feels (not sees) the intense gaze on his shrunken figure, well, at least he now has his attention. The purple eyes that he loves so much scan him from top to bottom and a wave of shame hits the stunned and guilty part of his subconscious as he remembers how he looks even worse for being in the middle of a fucking shootout. That wasn't how he would have wanted to see him again see but it was the most likely way to meet again now that he knew they were in the same work area

His eyes seem to linger on the wound on his shoulder and if he could see his husband's face, he would say he was not pleased with it.

“…Phil” Missa's voice sounds like a late greeting and is focused on him.

Goddess, how he had missed that voice

The professional, and infamous mercenary approaches, a little more hesitant than he should for a man of his reputation and a wave of affection breaks over Philza, he too takes a single step closer and they are looking at each other as the first time, feels like looking at the moon at its peak or the sun descending. He can't, he doesn't have the right to act like a wet cat after tearing up his enemies and expecting Phil to be normal about it. Missa just can't do that to him, he bites back a light laugh and takes another step in his direction. noticing that there is blood on his clothes and some cuts on it but if I had to guess I would say that most of it is from the others and Phil is already losing blood himself.

Missa takes another step, knowing the bleeding has stopped and believing the bullet grazed but he won't be sure until he concentrates on something other than mustering the words to ask him to fucking take off the mask.

Fortunately, he seems to read his mind as Phil doesn't even finish taking another slow step towards him when the mask is finally gone, The Reaper has officially left the room and his husband looms in front of him in his place. Is it strange to say that death is good for him? His face, his hair and the sparkle in his eyes or is the blonde just delirious?

Be that as it may, it doesn't take long for them to find themselves in the middle of the destroyed office as if it were his own world.

"You went"

“You kicked me out.”

“You still shouldn't have left” he replied very intelligently and Missa smiled, a little nervous.

“Does it hurt so much?” The black-haired man worried, looking at his injured shoulder and Philza wasn't having his partner distracted just like that.

"No, no. It doesn't hurt" He responded, knowing that lies were not the best for the relationship at this time.

Missa frowned like a kitten about to sneeze but he allowed this one for him, just for now.

“You… you're right Philza” Missa lowered his head in shame and a confuse “what?” died in the blonde's throat.

"I shouldn't have left-"

“I pointed at you with a gun, mate” he interrupted, feeling guilty and a little freaked out by whatever that means, it all was his fault, why was Missa saying that?

“Still, I should have stayed, I wanted to stay” hesitantly he noticed how Missa’s arms floated loosely around him. They weren't very elegant clothes, just good enough for work and Philza wanted to focus on that and the stains of blood all over his man instead of the new confession, after everything he did, but how could Missa still wanted him?

“Missa…”

“I promised, right?” Phil raised his head suddenly, searching for his gaze between the strands of black hair that escaped from his messy ponytail. “I always keep my promises, dear”

When the members of Bolas made sure they had the entire area clean, they advanced, covering the entire perimeter until they climbed the stairs that led to the red leader's office, they found themselves face to face with the splintered frame of the door, an office in an absolute disaster. with the imposing doors thrown next to the lifeless bodies and in the eye of that past storm was the mob boss.

Philza was leaning against his desk (which was out of its place) the purple cloth acted as an improvised tourniquet and in his arms was the waist of a tall man with black hair that they had trouble recognizing at first if it weren't for the clear display of affection, unaware that they had company. Now Phil kept his face buried in the taller man's torso as if he were afraid to let him go again and Missa hummed, deeply satisfied with having his little bird in his arms again, he carefully avoided the other man's shoulder but remained attentive, didn't want to leave that wound out of sight until he could drag his husband stubborn ass to the infirmary. Ignoring the living and dead audience, the couple was trapped in their own world, little giggles that didn't seem to go anywhere, dying and returning with each other's laughter in a vicious circle, finally together.

“I promised you, I didn’t? as long as I'm with you you'll never be alone again, cuervito”

EXTRA:

“You look pretty good with that ponytail you know, mate?”

“Philza!”

“So, guys, do I tell Jaiden that there will be no divorce?”

“Shut the fuck up, Charlie”

[terrence-silver]

(This is the plot opening to the movie Mulholland Drive) If beloved was a victim of a car crash but she survives with scars on all over body with amnesia and is seen stumbling down Los Angeles by Terry, what do you think he’d do when he sees her?

---

To reference my previous post here but, yeah, finders keepers?

He has a perfect opportunity to do, oh, I don't know, just about whatever he wants and simultaneously seem like the hero? The benefactor? Have complete and utter control over a situation and an individual? Appear like a kind man saving a car crash survivor? All while tenderly molding the person? Utilizing their amnesia to make himself whatever in reference to them and vice versa, effectively invading their life? Pushing aside any and all family members because he'll pretend to be concerned for beloved's mental state and how many people they should be around in the first place to ''avoid overburdening their traumatized psyche', all while, in reality, he wants to be the only one on their mind from now on. Nobody else. Practically abducting beloved from the world by alerting pretty much nobody of importance that he found a full blown person next to a vehicle wreckage. Again! It's for beloved's benefit, he promises! Their brain needs rest. Their body too. You'll find this man has an excuse and a valid, moral-sounding explanation for everything, all while selling the whole situation like there's no strings attached. That he has noble intentions in mind. That Terry Silver's merely doing this --- this whole business of taking someone like this under his wing out of sheer unselfishness, unable to let some poor, poor lost lamb wonder the highway bloodied and bruised?

He's too much of an sweet hearted man to do that, don't you know?

But, of course, we know nothing's for free and that he seldom ever does anything without an agenda, if ever, that he's ultimately claiming beloved in their most vulnerable state, leaving out any and all authorities from the issue (or promptly bribing them off) bypassing every rule of ethics and usurping beloved's whole life into his own, making himself indispensable, necessary, the support network of the century. He can sell whatever lies he wishes to them, tell whatever truths he deems fit, give way to half-truths, partial truths, twisted truths, gaslight them, shape their memories however he pleases, manipulate them, seduce them, isolate them, take them into private treatment off the records instead of maintaining them in a hospital because it's frightening what a powerful person with money can get away with, make it seem like his presence here is entirely beloved's idea because they need him ---- look at the state of them after all; they absolutely cannot be unsupervised and no, no, Terry's conscience cannot allow him to leave them, at least until he's sure they're better, basically wiggling his way in and seeming like a saint while he does it, making beloved seem like the unreasonable party for doubting him or wanting privacy --- they barely survived and yet they shrug away any and all help, especially when he's offering help so readily and with so much passion --- he could have beloved feeling irrational, indebted and ungrateful in no time, and himself, as the ever-understanding best friend in the whole wide world they didn't know they lacked until now. Look at the all the things he's done for them, after all; their recovery resort is a palatial mansion, they've a waiting staff, private nurses (probably contractually obliged into silence) and an array of security, for their own protection, even though, he's here. He'll protect them. What happened to them will never happen again. He'll look after them. He'll look after them so well.

But, that's why Terry loves LA.

Opportunities like this are sprawled out in the streets in front of him every day, and all he has to do is find them, recognize their worth, potential or in beloved's case, there was a literal diamond chunk on the highway, and since he's picked it up, cleaned it, polished it, it's his for the keeping. Into his pocket it goes. The rules of the game are what you make them. Everything he'll plant inside of beloved's head will be infinitely better than whatever their life previously was considering their previous existence didn't have him. Boo. And clearly, whoever beloved's original social circle was allowed them to total their car and nearly die --- something Terry takes immensely personally, holding an outright grudge over the whole thing and everyone involved, refusing to view and accident as an accident; more like a reason to retaliate. A reason for revenge. Not that he won't utilize the needed channels to find out everything about beloved anyway outside of his conditioning because he'll feel it's his right to know the same way it's his right to withhold whatever it is he knows. As I said; finders keepers. Beloved's mind, body and soul all belong to him now.

[lame--human]

Punishment |Daryl Dixon x reader|

First of english is not my first language and I apologize for any grammatical errors.

Second: This is the first time that I'm posting smut or any type of fan fiction so please be nice and if you like it, please leave a comment :)

WARNING: R Rated, MDNI, 18+

This story contains: swearing, spanking and slight humiliation

I'm thinking about making a second part for this story, let me know if you'd like that.

*********************************

"Bend over you little whore." "No" I said firm. "I said bend over", Daryl's voice was low. "No" I said again, "who are you to think I would just to what you want?" "I think you're a stupid little slut, whose ass deserves to be manhandled, to be punished." His voice got even lower at the word punished and it sent tingles into your core. You wouldn’t let him win, you couldn’t, not after everything that happened.

"Bend.The.Fuck.Over NOW!" Daryl's raised his voice and empathized ever word.

Your eyes widened and with clenched teeth, you bend over the little desk, a little scared of what would happen next.

With a few strides he was standing behind you, gripping your neck and pushing you further down, cheek pressed against the cold wood.

"Stop with that bullshit Daryl." You said and trying to look at him, failing because his grip tightened around your neck.

"Sluts like you deserve to be punished and you'll be punished, whore." Daryl pushed your pants down your legs, exposing your ass to him, he took a moment looking at the soft cheeks in front of him, your thong only covering your asshole and your pussy lips pressed against the material. "Daryl what are you doing? Stop!" "Don’t act like this hasn’t made you wet slut." Fucking asshole, he was right tho, you tried to ignore it but couldn’t, your pussy was throbbing, your clit already a little swollen, grazing against your thong.

"No it doesn’t" you lied and Daryl could clearly see through it.

A hard smack ended your thoughts and you yelped out in pain "what the fuck, what are yo-" you were interrupted with a second slap and before you could say anything else Daryl was doing what he promised, punishing you. And god was he good at it, after a few more slaps he rubbed your ass cheek and said "Now that you're a little warmed up, count slut" you squirmed a little on the desk, not wanting to give into the humiliation.

Your pussy was burning hot against the wooden desk and seeing Daryl like this was a huge turn on, but you couldn't give in, you just could give him the satisfaction of knowing he won.

A hard smack on your right cheek ripped you out of your thoughts " You have a hard time listening do you?" his hand left your neck but instead of retreating, he pulled your hair into a ponytail and whipped your head back.

You could feel him breathing against your neck, his warm breath wandering up to your ear he whispered slow and with a deep voice "listen to me, what you did was unacceptable and for that you deserve to be punished. Now I want to give you the benefit of the doubt, It'll be 15 slaps, if you try to move you get five more, you understand?"

You couldn't look at him, your eyes were staring right up at the wall, your scalp burning making your eyes watering a little.

You could still see a little of him, but you refused to acknowledge him, staring straight ahead.

His hold on your hair loosened a little only for him to make sure his grip was harder than before, he forced your head in his direction "look at me" his dark voice demanded his eyes boring into you, you looked from the wall into his eyes.

A little smirk made its way into his face, he knew it turned you on, he knew you were a little slut for a dominant man, he just had to get it out of you. He saw it in your eyes, a little glimmer of the real whore that you are.

He only saw it once before, when you both were out on a run, sitting across from each other nothing but a bottle of scotch between you. You were laughing at something, Daryl doesn't remember why, all he remembers is hearing something and telling you to be quiet.

You were tipsy and not listening so he had to hold a hand over your mouth, his body hovering above you "be fucking quiet" your eyes widened at the sudden intimacy, you looked into his eyes and that's when he saw it, the look of a sub was in your eyes. It turned you on, his body pressing into yours, knowing you can't do anything, could even fight him if you wanted to.

 "I said count and I won't say it again." Daryl growled angrily letting your hair go, making you fall flat against the desk. He wasted no time in slapping your cheeks twice, you counted each slap not wanting to anger him more.

The slaps got harder each time and you had to stop yourself from crying out in pain, your cheeks tingling and burning, you felt your pussy juices flowing out of you. You pray he can't see your wetness. After what felt like hours he was done, your body was burning, inside and out.

He slowly traced your cheeks with his palm and soothed your burning bottom "Good slut," he whispered behind you, "now let's check if you really are that kind of woman I think you are." his hand pulled down your thong and left it just below your ass. Oh no, you kind of knew where he was going with that and just as you expected, his hand was slowly inching towards your dripping cunt.

You started to squirm under him, but only for a few seconds before you felt another slap against your ass making you freeze. As if he knew how humiliated you were, you felt a finger at your lower back, sliding down to your asshole and slowly massaging it for a bit, you wanted to moan, goddamn it you couldn't.

Soon his finger was sliding lower, reaching your lips, he didn't even have to push them apart, that's how wet you were.

Your inside clenched when he started to slowly making his way from your hole to your swollen clit.

"Just how I imagined it, you are indeed a fucking whore." and with these words his finger was inside you, deep, so fucking deep.

You were so surprised your head shot up and an unholy sound left your mouth. Fuck you wanted to hold it in so bad but he took you by surprise. Just as quick as he put his finger inside you, it was gone.

 You heard footsteps and your door closing and you couldn't believe it, he left you, Daryl Dixon just left you. Still bend over your own desk, thong half pulled of and with you dripping out of your cunt.

What just happened?

How could he humiliate you like this?

Why the fuck did you let it happen and why the hell were you so turned on by all this?