#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)

[zaephix]

I LOVE THE CAMERA SO, SO MUCH—AND THE CAMERA LOVES ME ! / / xavier , zayne, rafayel & sylus . . .

ever since you went viral on the internet, your relationship has become the evvy and dream of users globally. just what about you guys was so groundbreaking?

warnings: f!reader, established relationship, modern!au without the monster protocore stuff, ooc!sylus??? this is my first time writing him im scared, internet fame, fluff, suggestive on zayne's part, relationship tingz mostly inspired by douyin couple tiktoks (im so lonely brah.)

w/c: 2.15k (500-600 each)

author's note: if u guys can figure out what photo reference i ws talking ab in zayne's ily (hint hint that one nanami fanart) also did u guys peep the rv reference in the title??? art cred: angye on twt

XAVIER didn't think that he'd go viral for something as silly as interupting your tiktok by carrying you away, then again he didn't even know you posted it.

it didnt just go viral because the two of you were in the cutest matching hoodies, but because he swept you off your feet so smoothly and almost effortlessly.

soon after that, comments flooded your page gushing about how they'd wish they had a boyfriend as clingy and affectionate as him, and you two had started a new trend.

after that video, many followed you because they fell in love with you and your relationship, almost begging for more crumbs of you two. your page was then full of the two of you more so than before, photos of you two in onesies cuddling, stargazing, and even little day-to-day vlogs.

your fans just kept eating them up, and he had to deal with the impending consequences of it.

"XAVIER, come pose with me!"

the grey-blond haired man sighed, dragging his feet towards you. "don't you think we're done? we've taken so many already..."

you raise a brow, "we didnt take any this whole week? cmoon, the camera's rolling, let's do that dance i taught you!"

"but it's late, and i wanna go to sleep... we can take some tomorrow morning or something..."

you give him the sternest look you could muster, and he generates the biggest puppy eyes he'd ever done, looking down at you with a small pout as his hands hung loosely around your waist.

"a kiss then?"

you roll your eyes affectionately, "you can have your kiss after this i promise! pleaaaseee xavier?"

it seemed that he wasn't gonna take no as an answer, as he kept leaning in towards you, determined as ever.

your face was burning as you chuckle nervously, leaning away from him. he slowly inched closer, until you were at a point where you could go no further without any help.

realizing you had no other choice, you sighed with a pout of your own, and XAVIER took this as a chance to pull you closer and press a kiss to your lips, making you giggle. you pressed your fingers lightly to his lips as he swayed you side to side, and you couldn't help but laugh and follow suit.

"XAVIER!"

you posted the video not long after that, a cute song in the background to cover the sounds of your voices. within just 2 hours, it went viral, taking its spot as your number one video.

"ughhhhhh is this too much to ask for?"

"if you look closely you'll see me laying on the street."

"u guys r my fav couple ever pls don't ever break up!!!"

it was safe to say you never got your dance.

ZAYNE took quiet pride in being your boyfriend—and he took it very seriously as well. he'd fuss over you even more than before, making sure you were okay at all times

you'd joke about how he was acting more as your husband than your boyfriend. he'd brush your comments aside, saying you think too much (funnily enough his ears were quite red)

your relationship went viral due to the sillyness you brought into it, the little antics you'd pull around him as you two would go through your day-to-day life being the highlight of the week for your viewers

but what really made you two so popular was in the gentleness he'd treat you with. his words may seem curt and blunt, but his actions said anything but that. in your mini vlogs, ZAYNE would display tiny gestures of affection, ranging from delicately fixing your jewelry and carrying your purse to zipping up your dress and putting your heels on for you.

"hey god... it's me again..."

"i want a rich doctor bf too!"

"my parentsssss <3"

your viewers would nitpick at every little thing, hundreds of fan edits taking over the app by storm, and you'd repost every single one of them

"ZAYNE! i'm home! sorry, usually i'd be the one to be early but the association had-"

you stopped, frowning as you realized the lights were off, the only source of light coming from your kitchen. making your way there, you were met with the back of your boyfriend, seemingly working very hard on something.

"zayne?"

he turned around, greeting you with a soft look of surprise. "oh. you're here." he stepped towards you, and now you could see that he was wearing an apron over a dress shirt and pants.

"go to your room. i left a change of clothes for you on your bed."

you looked at him confusedly before realization and guilt struck you. "...oh! oh my gosh, i'm so sorry! i forgot it was our anniversary! i'll-"

you shut up as he looks at you with an amused lift of his brow, taking this as your cue to go get changed.

turns out, ZAYNE had taken a day off without you realizing it. he spent the day getting your apartment ready for your anniversary. and he had everything set alright.

"i can't believe you did all of this yourself... i mean- wow..."

you two enjoyed a nice candlelit dinner with your favorite foods and drinks, and you kept having to resist the urge to just tug him closer with his tie and plant kisses all over his face.

wait, unless...

"ZAYNE, could you come here?"

ZAYNE thought the two of you were done, wanting to spend the rest of the night with you in his arms-it turns out you had a different idea

"you still haven't gotten your reward."

you uploaded a new post to your instagram page, captioned "my sweet doctor <3" with pictures of your dinner that night

and on the very last slide, was a picture of him turned to the side with lipstick covered kiss marks over his face and shirt, ears a pretty shade of red, and your hand pulling him in by his tie

your fans could only ever imagine what happened after that

it was just after your date with RAFAYEL at the aquarium did the topic of who his lover was striked appeal to the media. apparently, some fans recognized him and sneakily took photos.

at first, he was annoyed by it, but after seeing compilations of videos where he'd see you two, he supposed it wouldn't hurt to indulge the public.

soon after that, his pages both on instagram and tiktok had tiny easter eggs of you, whether it be your clothes, a second of you in the background of his videos or even in his paintings.

the comments would be full of "did u guys see the ___ in the background?" or "to have a painter as a bf... im jealous..."

to fuel the fire, you'd feed your already large fanbase your own easter eggs of him. one of his paintings in the background, a shirt of his on your couch, a split second of your wallpaper shown, etc.

you were just having fun, you didn't expect anything to really come out of the antics you both were pulling in front of the public.

however, you both thought wrong, as it didn't take long for the people to put two and two together.

"RAFAYEL... my legs hurt... when are the fireworks gonna start?"

"shhh just be patient, we can stop here if you want?"

you two were at one of the largest beach festivals at linkon, and after a whole day of running around and trying everything, your legs had gotten sore.

you and RAFAYEL sit down on the cool sand, the water from the waves inching closer and closer. you could hear the commotion coming from the festival, but all you could focus on right now were the waves in front of you.

"ugh... you're right. all that running around has made me exhausted. don't be surprised if you have to carry me home."

you flick him on his forehead as he weakly puts his hands up in surrender and lays down on the sand. you lay beside him, your arm propping your head up.

"i had fun today though. it's felt like ages since we went somewhere in public together."

he hums, pulling your hand towards him to rest on his face. "yeah... its too much... maybe we should just settle down back at-"

"oh my god, is that RAFAYEL? and... is that his girlfriend!?"

you quickly turn around and were met with a group of fangirls. you turn back around to rafayel to see him already sat up, motioning for you to follow him.

"i know you said you were tired but..."

you read his mind instantly, getting up and grabbing his hand. you both start to run away from the clicks and flashes of the paparazzi, giggling and laughing while doing so.

the fireworks had finally started behind you.

after that whole fiasco, you and RAFAYEL retired to his bedroom back at his studio, breathless and exhausted.

as you two soundly slept, the internet was currently in shambles after finding out your secret relationship, leaked photos of you two running together and getting into your car having made it on every platform.

and as his phone rang with notifications, he had an inkling of what happened.

"whatever..." he thinks tiredly as he pulls the covers over you and him.

"...i can deal with that tomorrow."

SYLUS was never shy in showing you off as his girlfriend, but never once discouraged nor encouraged your moves to post the two of you together

yet the moment you posted the huge bouquet of roses he'd sent to your apartment via luke and kieran and it blew up, it was almost like he was urging you to show him off

you didn't even mean for it to go that big, you just thought they were pretty

and yet, he'd sneak in small comments during your conversations like "the view here is pretty, wanna comemorate it?" or "look, our outfits are matching, i could get kieran to take a picture of us together if you'd like?"

you'd taken the hint pretty quickly, rolling your eyes as you brushed it off each time, until you had a change of heart one day

you posted a video of you touring the city on his motorcylce, one hand wrapped around his torso and the other holding your phone, showing off the view and the well, broad, shoulders and back of your boyfriend

and as you can probably tell, it went viral, with many users commenting how they'd wish they had their own biker boyfriend who'd take them across cities

he scrolls through the comments in his freetime, lips turned upwards and already planning your next hit

"SYLUS...? what's the meaning of... this?"

just a minute ago, SYLUS walked up to you and asked if you'd like to go shopping, that it was on him. you agreed hesitantly as you got up, suspicious of his intentions already.

and without giving you time to think, he picked you up with one arm and has not put you down since.

"well, i thought it'd be nice to treat you, it's been a while afterall."

"...we went to a michellin star restaurant like two days ago?"

"hm."

sighing, you reel your head back and notice a glint in the dark hallways of his manor, along with hushed voices and camera clicks.

was that... luke and kieran?

"wait, wait, wait, wait— i think i saw luke and kieran—"

he swiftly glaces behind you two with furrowed brows, and then gave you a small smirk. sometimes you can't tell if he's teasing you or not.

"pay them no mind, they're probably up to something again. best not to find out now."

he looks at you curiously, "or is this your way of saying you want out? i was gonna pay a visit to the claw machine with you... i heard they had a new limited edition plushie..."

your eyes snap back to his, "no, no! this is fine... i'm sure i was just imagining things."

he gives you a triumphant smile and keeps walking, yet your mind can't help but wander back to what those twins were doing...

and it turns out your suspicions were right all along, for after you came back home from a successful night of shopping, your phone was abuzz with notifications coming from your friends

luke and kieran had secretly recorded the two of you when he picked you up, and made sure to show the black card that was in SYLUS'S possesion

you'd have never thought he'd go along with a plan as silly as this with the two of them, but they were his assistants afterall.

later, you were bored out of your mind, so you decide to scroll through the comments.

"hows it feel to live my dream!?"

"i'll get it one day... one day...."

"if i ever had a boyfriend like that, i'd never let him rest."

and as you look over at the sleeping man beside you, you definitely understood them.

[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!!!!! ]

[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.

[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.

[fastcardotmp3]

a steddie "they reconnect after years apart" journey except they never got all that close post-Vecna to begin with. Like they spend a week in hell together, develop the sort of respect you have for someone when you have to work together to save the world, but it doesn't ever get much bigger than that.

They're just two guys who stumbled into each other's lives on circumstance alone and then spend the next decade seeing each other precisely once a year at the single shared holiday they both spend with the party.

New Years.

Eddie always spends Thanksgiving with Wayne and Steve is with Robin every 4th of July (running off and doing their own thing in a tradition everyone knows not to ask about) so the only time both of them end up at the Hopper-Byers residence every year is in that final countdown towards something new.

and they're not enemies and they're not-not friends either, but it's like that friend of your cousin who shows up to the party and you'll chat and make polite conversation and roll your eyes when they say something a bit out of bounds for two people who don't know each other all that well except.

Well, except, when you do that every year it becomes routine. When you do it every year it becomes, I know I'm not gonna have to continue this conversation in the morning so fuck it I'll be honest with you. When you do it every year, on the tipsiest night of the year, surrounded by people you trust in an environment that feels intrinsically safe it becomes--

"Did you quit your shitty job yet or are you still being a pussy about it?"

and it becomes--

"you're not still dating that same jerk as last year, right?"

and it becomes--

"wait, you hate playing Christmas music, why would you let someone talk you into that? Next time call me and I'll knock some sense into your dense skull"

and it becomes--

"I mean obviously a friends with benefits thing wouldn't work out, Steve, you're a serial monogamist"

and it becomes--

"Hey, it's good to see you again, man"

and it becomes--

"I missed your stupid hair."

and it becomes--

"I missed your drunk fucking rants."

and it becomes--

"I missed you."

Years pass, turning one into the next and it becomes I missed you I missed you I miss you.

Because they've been doing this long enough that they know each other, one night a year holding up the kitchen-counter-turned-bar and having their own little isolated conversation in the yellow glow of the only well-lit room in the house, and somewhere along the line they started knowing each other. Seeing each other. Understanding.

At some point it starts to ache, leaving that behind in the early hours of the morning and starting a new year all over again, counting down towards that final countdown when it all feels like it clicks into place. And later, at another point, they start to notice the ache.

They start to notice that they really are leaving something behind in the magic of that moment and it becomes a question of can this survive in the light of day?

It's 1995, about to tip over into 1996 when Eddie looks at Steve and doesn't see the guy pressed up against the wall of a boat shed, or the guy diving headfirst into a frigid lake so the rest of them wouldn't have to, or the guy walking away towards battle with something like uncertainty and something like hope both scrambling for purchase in his eyes.

It's 1995, about to be 1996 when Eddie looks at this guy from his past and realizes that just because he never knew him then doesn't mean he doesn't now, doesn't mean he's not allowed to get to know him now.

Eddie's not the guy who held that bottle to his throat anymore after all, not the guy who dove into that lake after him, who broke a promise and tried to be a hero. Ten years does a lot to a person and so when the Eddie of today looks at the Steve of today and says--

"I'm gonna kiss you at midnight this time, for the record."

--it doesn't feel like the ground is quaking, like anything has to shift to make space for the change that is Steve's slow smile around the lip of his glass in response.

They've been making space for ten years. They've been moving closer to each other a centimeter at a time in this well-lit kitchen, up against the counter-turned-bar.

"Well, if we're going on the record," Steve shrugs as a noise maker cuts through the warmth of their family's chattering throughout the house, "I know that already."

"Yeah?" Eddie's eyebrows shoot up, delight filling up his chest like the mystical hope of starting over. "How?"

"You get this look in your eye," Steve shrugs, "every time you plan on escalating."

Eddie chews on the inside of his cheek to keep from beaming too broadly, sets his glass on the sideboard and gives Steve a curious once-over.

"Yeah, that's the one," Steve laughs, this bright and full sound that it took probably three of those first New Years Eves for Eddie to earn, and it spurs him on.

It has always been becoming, the space between them, and it has always been becoming this, Eddie holding Steve's cheek assuredly with one confident hand and pressing their lips together in a simple, all-consuming, closed-mouth shout of a kiss.

"You didn't wait until midnight," Steve breathes when they pull away, and fuck Eddie has missed him, has found so much to miss in knowing him.

"Don't worry Cinderella," Eddie lets their foreheads touch, lets all that space officially close shut, "I ain't going anywhere when the clock chimes."

[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.

[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.

[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?

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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.

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"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?

[vickyyoon]

Stepbro Han profile (hcs)

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C/w: stepcest, smut, sub!Han, dom!fem!reader ( and just pure filth)

Paring : stepbro!Han x fem!reader

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Step bro han

He was your elder step brother, he loves you and adores you alot as an elder brother but compared to his age he was pretty dumb, naive and such a people pleaser.

He was pretty popular at school, everyone's attention would be drawn to him because of how pretty he was and how talented he was as well but he would always turn this attention to you jk matter what, he loved to show you off.

He took you in dates and happily let you join his friends on hangouts but things only started to change when you notice how he was really under your fingers without your complete control

One night you caught him with your underwear in his room just sniffing it, you couldn't help but smirk because you too had feelings for him and thought his was straight up disgusting but he wasn't really your brother was he?

Ever since then you used him to your advantage.

" what? do you not care about your little sister? I thought you loved me?" you pouted his jaw was aching from eating you out from the past few hours.

" ofcourse I do but what if mom and dad finds us?" he asked you.

" Don't worry about them, they're not coming back until tommorow night." you smirked down on him.

Type

He was almost submissive all the time maybe it was just for you though. Acting so cute whenever youre disappointed or begging almost all the time when it's just the two of you.

He always likes to please you because you give him compliments and praises afterwards, he puts your needs first and would drop everything to come to your need, I mean anything.

Like one time he was in the kitchen helping your mom when you got extremely horny, just by one call he left your mom with all the work in the kitchen kind of surprising her.

He will do anything for you, he'll spend money on whatever you want from him, he loves giving you gifts as well, to you he was the best elder brother you could ever ask for.

He gets pretty sad when you talk or get too close to another guy and you'll probably have to ride him afterwards to make him understand and feel better.

He is shameless around you, if you put a collar on him, he'll gladly accept it, if you ask him to bark he'll do it (no joke 💀) but anything to make you happy <3

" I said keep quiet! Or I'll absolutely stop right here and now!" you whispered into his ear.

You were in the back seat of your parents car while they were driving, your hand wrapped around his aching dick under that blanket on his lap.

" No please! I won't I promise."

Distance

He was going to college very soon ND since his college is quiet far he has to live in a near by hostel which meant diatancing for you two.

But he still manages to make time out of his hectic days to call you and always visits you during his weekends sacrificing his hangouts with his friends, because his friends might leave him but you won't, you're his little sister.

He'll always be sure to satisfy your needs when he's back home and spends more time on you than anyone else in the house. He gets very clingy and can't help but sometimes touch you while at dinner

He really misses you alot, not seeing your face twice a day will kill him instantly most of the times you've forced yourself on him but after reaching college he starts to grow alot on you.

He won't let you go out of his sight and gets much more possessive, he takes a hold of your socials and often checks what you like or post. Though he knows you won't date any one but he still makes sure to scare your male friends so that they won't even try to get you.

" it's not fair! It's just a picture of me and my friendy at the beach!" you argued but he wasn't having it.

" you look so naked in that photo, your boy friends will see it!" he said again and again.

And by the time you knew it you were straddling on his lap trying to calm him down.

" they won't lay a finger on me, trust me." you kissed his forehead as he looked at you with tear filled eyes trying to understand you.

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