#drunk guardian conversations

[bratbby333]

I got some thoughts 👀 can I request a little something? like reader finds herself in a situation where a guy is disrespectful to her and Geto steps in to defend her... she would be so relieved like 'thank you so much tall and beautiful stranger' 😍🥰 and he's probably like 'don't worry about it, it's whatever' but in the end he offers to walk her home and he fucks her against the wall things happen 😳😳

`⭐︎ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ YOUR GUARDIAN STRANGER ! — feat. suguru geto

word count. 3.6k content warnings. characters are 21+, fem!reader x suguru, mentions of blood, allusions to violence, reader gets hit on and grabbed in the club, alcohol consumption, p in v, unprotected sex, use of pet names, dirty talk, thigh-riding, sugu fucks hard, one night stand, the pull-out method, non-curse!au author notes. thank you for ur ingenious request my sweet nonnie...i hope you enjoy xx not beta read !!

nsfw 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 mdni

A skin-tight dress. Four inch heels. Dark lip liner with a clear gloss on top. A few spritzes of Chanel No. 5, and you are out the door and heading to the club.

Everything is great; good vibes, strong drinks, pounding 808s reverberating off the walls. The liquor warms your stomach as your hips sway to the music, your over-worked body relaxing with every bump of the heavy bass. You take in the scene around you; drunk couples making out in the corner, a few underage kids getting thrown out, a group of friends arguing over god knows what– it’s all very entertaining. You laugh to yourself, your eyes scanning the room once more before your vision settles on the one thing you were trying to avoid. Shit. Your heart drops. Really? Did he not catch the hint the last two times? You sigh deeply, rolling your eyes as you prepare yourself for the inevitable. Not this again.

Because, of course, all good things must come to an end. 

You're used to being hit on. But tonight, there is one guy in particular, unrelenting in his attempts to get close to you. He's shorter than average, the two of you being the same height when you're in heels. He reeks of liquor, cigarettes, and BO. His fringe clings to his forehead as he approaches you for the third time this evening, a disgusting smirk plastered across his face. He seems to have mistaken your accidental eye contact as an invitation to test his luck once more. With tense shoulders and an apprehensive tone, you offer him polite conversation. Not that you want to, but god forbid you reject him in just the right way to make him snap. You don't want to end up being a headline. Your eyes dart elsewhere, knowing damn well that if you look at him for too long you might gag. He is truly disgusting, rambling on and on about his podcast and his most recent bouts of buying and trading crypto. 

It's a tough situation to navigate. You're out alone. Granted, you are at a club that you're comfortable in; you're familiar with the layout, you're friends with a few of the waitresses and bartenders. The DJ knows you by name. But, you're still riding solo in a loud, rambunctious environment. Even though there is a level of comfort here, it's still a club filled with drunkards at the end of the day. 

With a fake smile and a couple nods of your head, you try to ignore the part of the conversation where he referred to himself as an “alpha male” as you accept the drink he presents to you, kindly excusing yourself before disappearing into the crowd once more.

A shudder runs down your spine, your body quite literally trying to shake away that awful conversation. God, he’s the worst. On your way to the dance floor, you pour the contents of the cup into the soil of a potted plant. He doesn't think you're stupid, does he? There is no way in hell you're drinking that shit.

You're dancing alone, enjoying the house mix that's bumping through the giant speakers, the colorful spotlights that bounce around your face as you feel yourself begin to relax once more. Finally, some much needed alone time. All you want is to let loose after an arduous week of working. Can't a girl have some peace?

"C'mon...just give me a chance." You don't even have to turn around to see who it is, you can smell him. Your nose scrunches up before you turn to face him, another fake smile pulling at your cheeks as you speak to him for the fourth time tonight. 

"I'm sorry, but I'm just not looking for anythin'...I'm just tryna have fun," you say politely, before beginning to walk away. If you just keep moving through the crowd, he won't be able to find you again. But this guy is annoyingly determined and obnoxiously entitled, because after one step away from him, his hand grabs at your wrist, "We can have fun! C'mon...seriously?! I bought you a drink and this is how you treat me?"

As soon as the contact is made, your blood boils. Rage runs through your body as you spin around to chew him out for A, assuming some smelly asshole like him has a chance with you; B, for even thinking he could touch you, and C, the absolute nerve of this man to actually follow through with it. 

But when you turn, you realize you can't see him anymore. Your eye line is obstructed by a broad, muscular back. Utterly confused, you step to the side in order to fully see what the hell is going on. The sweaty hand that was once wrapped around your forearm is now gripped by a large fist. Your eyes trail up to your savior, a damningly handsome man with jet-black hair. 

"Do we have a problem?" a stern voice addresses the musty, shorter guy. 

"Yeah, this chick's been flirting with me all night...I'm tryna get what I'm owed," he spits back, attempting to pull his wrist away, "Dude, let go...stop bein' a cockblock." The mystery man's face twists at the other's bold choice in words. You're shocked that he doesn't feel intimidated at all. 

"What you're owed?" A deep chuckle emerges from the unknown’s chest as he stares down at him. "I dunno...it seems like she wants nothing to do with you," he muses, tightening his grip around the other’s arm. 

He turns to address you, and you finally get to take a good look at him. His side-profile is god-like, but looking at him straight on is a whole different realm of attractiveness. The man's fucking gorgeous. You're too busy ogling him that you miss his question all together. 

"S-sorry...what did you say?" You shake your head a bit, adrenaline pumping through your ears from this entire ordeal, the expensive scent of his cologne mixing with the pounding bass of the club; it's all making your head spin. 

He laughs and leans down to your level, his head hovering just next to your ear. "You want me to get rid of him for ya?" he repeats, his breath brushing against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. He pulls back, looking down at you with his grip still tight around the other guy's arm. The pathetic man is squirming as the two of you share quite the intimate eye contact. You nod, your mouth dropping open as he drags him out of the club immediately. 

You let out a deep sigh before making your way to the bathroom. You lather up your hands with soap and do your best to scrub away the feeling of that man's skin on yours. Leaning up against the sink, you take a few deep breaths before fixing your hair and reapplying your lipgloss. That man is vile, but you're not going to let that gross interaction ruin your night. 

You make your way to the bar, keeping your head on a swivel in hopes to see your handsome rescuer once more, wanting to thank him for handling that for you. You pout a bit as you fail to see him on your trek, sighing as you place your order with the bartender. 

You take a few sips before turning to walk back toward the dance floor, when you literally run straight into someone. "Fuck! I am so sorry, I-" but then you smell it, the same entrancing cologne as before. You look up and are met with a devious grin on the most angelic face you've ever seen. You smile, pushing your hair from your eyes, "I was looking for you." You sound relieved as the two of you stare at one another. 

"Were you now?" he asks coyly, shifting his weight as he smirks down at you. You nod shyly, "Mhm...I-I wanted to thank you for earlier," you take another sip of your cocktail, hoping it will calm your nerves a bit, "I appreciate you stepping in, that guy couldn't catcha fuckin' hint," you laugh, looking away. 

"Don't mention it. It's the least I could do," he responds. "I'm Suguru, by the way."

Turning to face him once more, you tell him your name with a kind smile. As the two of you make small talk, you notice his chest is heaving a bit, and with a quirk of your brow, you run your eyes down his body, realizing that his knuckles are bruised and slightly bloody.

"Oh...oh my god. Are you alright?" you ask, grabbing his hand. You bring his fist up to inspect it, the dim lights of the club not offering you much assistance. "Oh, yeah," he laughs, rotating his wrist so you can examine it further, "the blood's not mine," he grins. A laugh escapes you as you gaze up at him, still holding his hand in yours. 

"Damn...you really did a number on him, huh?" Suguru laughs at this.

"Absolutely, he deserved it. Dude was a prick. I'm really sorry that happened to you," he sympathizes, watching as you grab napkins and a shot of vodka from the bar to wipe off the dried blood from his knuckles. 

"It's alright, I'm used to it by now, but having someone step in and save me was definitely a first." He releases a jagged exhale as you pour the liquor over the small abrasions on his hand, "Sorry...gotta disinfect you. That dude was gross...I had to go scrub my arm off after he touched me," you giggle. He watches intently as you finish cleaning him up, his heart skipping a beat as you smile up at him triumphantly. You are quite the woman, cunning and confident. He likes that. 

"There ya go," you chirp, before tossing the reddened napkins into the garbage can located nearby. His eyes run across your face and up and down your body, taking in every part of you. Poor thing. Though you seem so unbothered by that whole situation, there is a telling look behind your eyes, and Suguru notes that you are still a little shaken up. He would be crazy to let you wander back out there alone. 

"Do you want to come hang with my friends? I promise they won't pester you like that dude did," he offers. He nods toward the booths that line the wall. "That's them over there; Shoko and Satoru." You follow his eye line, seeing a brunette woman accompanied by a blue-eyed man. They seem to be about your age, and you love meeting new people. You smile and agree, thanking him once more as the two of you make your way over to the table. 

The rest of your night is spent laughing and dancing with the three of them. You learn that they all work for the high school across town, and that Shoko can really handle her liquor; Satoru cannot. You and Suguru are in your own world, chatting about everything and nothing, taking breaks to dance together when a good song comes on. His hands rest on your waist as you move your hips against him, your bodies fitting like you are made for one another. Suguru, being the gentleman he is, never pushes any further than that, allowing you to initiate the contact. 

It's 2 AM when the four of you stumble out of the club, the tall blond leaning on his smaller friend's shoulders as she guides him toward the taxi. It's quite the amusing sight. 

You stop short of the curb, wishing Satoru and Shoko a good night, before turning to Suguru. "Thank you again…for everything," you say, your voice raspier than usual from all the shouting you did inside the loud club. 

"Of course. I'm just glad we got to spend some more time together," he says with a smile, ushering you toward the taxi. He's confused when you shake your head. 

"I live like three blocks from here, I'm just gonna walk," you state. "It was really nice meeting you, you were great company," you smirk, heading down the road, your heels clacking against the pavement with every step. 

A few unintelligible words are exchanged between Suguru and the taxi driver, followed by a car door slamming shut, before the sound of someone jogging catches up to you. 

"You're crazy if you think I'm gonna let you walk home alone," he retorts, pushing you toward the inside of the sidewalk as he walks closest to the cars that pass by. 

"You're quite the gentleman, aren't you," you tease, pushing your shoulder into his. He chuckles, "Can you blame me? I see a beautiful woman in distress, I have to jump in." You blush at his compliment.

"My knight in...," you pause as you run your eyes down his body, "...jeans and a black tee," you giggle. After sharing a few laughs, silence settles between the two of you as the cool air swirls around you. The occasional car passes by, but other than that, it's a quiet evening. 

You glance at Suguru through your peripherals, enjoying the way his layered hair bounces with every step he takes. His cologne, though more subtle now, still wafts toward your nose. He really is beautiful. You wonder if it'd be too bold to see if he wants to continue your evening. 

You walk toward the door to your apartment, turning to face him. It's now or never. 

"You comin'?" You ask with a raise of your brow. He chuckles as he climbs the stairs, joining you by your side, "Thought you'd never ask."

You have never been into one night stands, but something about Suguru is irresistible. Whether it's because he saved you from that creep or because he is super fucking sexy, you know you need him. Now. The two of you barely made it through the doorway as you’re pushing him up against the wall of your foyer, your lips immediately finding his.

He's taken aback by your boldness, taking a second to register his surroundings before quickly flipping the two of you around, his hands cupping either side of your face as his knee wedges between your legs. His muscular thigh is pressed directly onto your core, the pressure sending waves through your body.

“Couldn’t even make it to the bed, huh?” he husks into your ear, placing a wet kiss on the sensitive skin below, nipping and sucking at it. Soft moans echo through the hallway as Suguru finds your lips once more, your tongues battling one another. You thrust your hips, rubbing your warmth against his leg. “Eager, are we?” he teases, lifting his leg more. 

“Mmm…mhm,” you gasp as the contact intensifies. You’re already addicted to him, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside you. You grind your hips harder, pressing your drenched cunt firmly against his clothed thigh, certain that he can feel your pussy throbbing against him, the tightness in your stomach intensifying. Your cheeks fluster at how quickly he’s getting you to your breaking point without even having to do anything.

He breaks the kiss, watching intently as your hips gyrate against him. “Shit…are you gonna cum?” The tone of his voice is taunting, yet laced with desire. The sight of you using him to get off has him rock hard. You blush immediately, tilting your head away from him. You nod shyly, though your hips continue their pattern. “So fuckin’ hot,” his hand wraps around your throat, your head tilting to rest against the wall. “Uh uh, don’t get shy now…look at me.” Through low lids, you meet his gaze. His lower lip is between his teeth as he glances between your face and your cunt rubbing against his thigh. With a desperate whimper, you pick up the pace. “C’mon…that’s it–cum for me,” he growls, entranced by the fluid motion of your body. You come undone just a few minutes later with a whine and a few moans of his name. Your cum soaks through your panties and a guttural moan breaks through his chest as he watches you finish. “Fuckin’ drenchin’ me already, huh?” You blush profusely, your eyes screwed tight as embarrassment courses through you.

You yelp as he flips you around, your chest now pressed against the wall, your legs parallel with your shoulders. “All that cum ‘n I wasn’t even inside you yet…” He unbuckles his belt, shoving his pants and boxers down just enough to free his throbbing erection, “...can’t wait to see how much you cream on my cock.” You whimper at the filthy words that shamelessly fall from Suguru’s lips as he pulls your dress up and drags your panties down your legs. You aren’t much help, small pants leaving your chest as your body recovers from your unexpectedly intense orgasm.  His lips part as he teases his thick tip along your slit, lubing himself with your cum. “You ready, doll?” His head shallowly dips in and out of your needy cunt, already loving the way you stretch for him. You hum, nodding profusely as you look over your shoulder. “Mm. Mhm…p-please fuck me,” you beg. Your words feel foreign to you as you say them, unsure of where all this submissiveness was coming from. But Suguru’s effortlessly domineering aura makes you want to bend to his every whim, to please him in any way that you can. 

Inch by inch, he’s delving into you. The warmth of your dribbling cunt sucking him, the squelching sounds ricocheting through his head, the sinful moans that break through your throat–it drives him wild. He growls as your back arches, pushing him even deeper. Your ass flush against his lower abdomen, your eyes blowing wide at the damning stretch of his full length nestled deep inside you.

He stays still for a moment, allowing you time to accommodate as your gushy walls flutter around him. The pace starts slow, but Suguru’s patience wears thin, and after a few strokes he’s ramming into you, one hand wrapped around the front of your throat, the other pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail as he bounces you on his cock. The scratches that should be left on the tanned flesh of his toned back are being dragged down your beige walls, your breasts rubbing against the cold plaster with every rough thrust of his hips, the sensation stimulating your budding nipples. 

Every bump of his hips pushes his head into your sweet spot, his length caressing every part of you with ease. “Takin’ me so well,” he grunts as he rams into your furthest wall. You can’t suppress the cock-drunk whines that spill from you, your eyes welling with tears while delirious pleasure claws its way through your body, your tummy tightening as you clench around him. Your shoulders tense as your perch on your tiptoes, opening yourself up to take more of him–if that is even possible–praying he finds refuge within your womb. “Shit–” he hisses, his words nearly incoherent as the sound of skin against skin echoes through the hallway, “fuckin’ milkin’ me, doll.”

He releases your throat, the same hand trailing down your spine before his arm snakes around you, his nimble fingers strumming delicious circles against your throbbing clit. You cry out, eyes screwing shut as your legs shake. “Fuck…oh fuuuck–ahh! Gonna…’m gonna…” Your voice trails off, any semblance of a coherent thought cast to the wayside as a deep chuckle rumbles through his chest. Suguru leans down, kissing behind your ear before biting at your lobe. “I know,” he muses, his fingers work even faster against you, “Squeezin’ me s’tight…”, his hips shifting to push himself even deeper, “...C’mon. Make a mess ‘f me.” You reach your breaking point once more, lips parting as squirt spills out around his cock and dribbles down your thighs. 

His release follows suit with a few raspy swears and sultry mumbles of your name. He pulls out, working his fist around his cock, his hot seed shooting onto your ass and lower back. Suguru places soft pecks along your neck and shoulders, working to regain his breath. He catches you as he untangles his body from yours, chuckling at the evident exhaustion of your body while your knees buckle, unable to support your own body weight as you lean against the wall. 

After tucking himself away and a speedy rebuckle of his belt, he scoops you up in his arms, carrying you bridal style to your bed, setting you down on your plush duvet. 

“Bathroom?” he asks. Your brows furrow before you comprehend his question, still dazed from the spell he cast on you. With a weak flick of your wrist, you gesture toward the closed door to your left. You watch with tired eyes as he returns with a damp rag, his soft touches along your weary body juxtaposing the meanness of his strokes as he mindfully cleans you up. With a quick kiss on your cheek and a soft mumble of “you were wonderful” into your ear, he smiles down at you before beginning to exit the bedroom. It’s crazy–insane, even–how much you want him around. You must be out of your mind…this near stranger—the fact that you even let him in your house is wild, let alone asking him to stay the night? But you want him to, so bad. There’s just something about him.

You sit upright, ignoring the ache in your lower back and the morality of your choices, your question flying from your lips before your brain can stop it. “Wait…can you stay?” Your words are soft as they drift through the air. He stops just short of the door, before turning and offering you a knowing smile, “I thought you’d never ask.”

author notes. certified sugu glazer…what can i say. i just cannot get enough of him ugh.

i’m still workin thru all my requests, i appreciate yalls patience w me 🤍

my reqs are closed atm, but thirsts + chats are welcome! come say hello ☺️

tag list: @admirxation @sadmonke @the-weeb-of-the-uchiha @call-memissbrightside (lmk if u want to be removed from tags🤍)

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[sleepynoons]

SANTA TELL ME BY ARIANA GRANDE – sunday (hsr) x f!reader, guardian angel!au + college!au, sfw

genre – fluff, angst word count – ~2,700 warnings – explicit language synopsis – to put it quite simply, you have horrible taste in men. you're more than aware of it, so this year, you really, really, really want santa to hear you out because god definitely hasn't. but what you don't know is that someone does love you very dearly – you just can't see him.

Sunday ought to change positions. In fact, his sister, Robin, had notified him of an opening two weeks ago, no doubt confidential information that still somehow made its way through the Department, and he really should have brought it up with his manager. But more than likely, the position has already been taken, and even if it was not, no one gets to transfer at such a dire time in the year.

Holidays are what the Department calls “High Risk Periods.” In other words, during these trying times, humans are more prone to injuring themselves, usually from their own idiocy and recklessness, and that means Sunday and his guardian angel colleagues have to work overtime to prevent any major accidents or incidents, unless instructed otherwise in the Book of Fates. After all, humans seem to have found a plethora of ways to amuse themselves – getting drunk till they black out, doing parkour across the roofs of buildings dozens of floors tall, having disastrous sociopolitical conversations at the dinner table that devolve into screaming matches, the list goes on. Robin says she finds them entertaining, while Sunday constantly wonders why he was assigned to the Department in the first place.

Regardless, there is one truth about humans that Sunday wholly believes in. Out of all the humans he has been assigned to, you, especially, are stupid.

–

For the first time in weeks, your phone’s silent. No texts, no phone calls – not even a single email notification! Even your college seems to have decided to leave you alone when you least want it to. You lift your head, taking one last peek at your screen, and wail in disappointment and sadness despite knowing nothing will have changed within the second since your last glance.

Your girl friend grunts in response. She’s been sitting beside you in your room for the past few hours, having fallen victim to your post-breakup breakdown.

You yell into your pillow. “Why isn’t he reaching back out!”

“Because he’s a man,” she deadpans. 

You flip over so that you’re lying on your bed, face staring up at the ceiling, before letting out a pathetic moan again.

With teary eyes and trembling lips, you choke out, “I really thought he was the one.”

Bewildered, your friend drops her phone onto the floor. “What in the fuck are you saying, darling.”

“No, really! He’s so sweet and has this impish smile –“

“Sweetheart, you’ve been reading too many YA novels. No one fucking calls a smile ‘impish.’”

“– and he always bought me flowers when I least expected it.”

You release a dreamy sigh, with a slight undertone of frustration and envy. Since you started college three years ago, you haven’t really had any luck with long-lasting relationships. In your defense, first year’s meant to be spent frolicking, meeting different potential partners, and not really holding any expectations. Second year’s when you’re supposed to start settling down and finding an actual boyfriend, but sometimes, you just don’t meet someone who clicks. Unfortunately, even though you’re already halfway through your third year now, your misfortune seems to be nowhere near ending.

But you’re really trying! During the school year, you made sure to do your makeup and wear cute sets to class every day. You even got a new perfume – a little sweet, a lot more floral – to make sure your presence was known and committed to memory, and the new hair oil you rubbed through the ends of your hair had been giving you that extra healthy sheen and glow. And to your best judgment, your personality isn’t that bad either.

Your girl friend knows what you’re thinking by the downturn of your mouth. “It’s not you, love. You just don’t have the best… eye for men.”

“But aren’t you supposed to date men who can at least do the bare minimum?” The more you think about your now ex, the more you want to shrivel in a corner and question yourself. After all, you were hoping to spend all winter break long with your ex, but now you’re totally, completely, definitely alone for the holidays.

Your friend scooches over to the head of the bed and pats your arm with gentle thumps of her palm. “Yes, but they have to be consistent, too. Your ex may have been nice, but only sometimes. Remember how he forgot about your dates and always showed up late? Or that time you asked him to get painkillers, but he totally forgot because he went to the gym for four hours instead?”

You can only nod, unable to refute these instances of your ex’s incompetence. And by the knowing look on your girl friend’s face, it seems she has a laundry list more.

“I was just trying to give him the benefit of the doubt,” you mutter. You know you sound so naïve, but truly, you can’t help it. You don’t like it when others find fault in you, so you’re just doing the same for others – that’s the golden rule, right?

She gives you one final pat before standing up and stretching.

“Enough about this douche,” she says, with a sense of ultimatum to her tone. “Our Christmas party’s still happening, and who knows, maybe you’ll find a cute guy there.”

That’s true – at least there’s one good thing you can look forward to this winter break. You’re not returning home, so you’re celebrating Christmas with some other students who have also decided to stay on campus. You don’t know any of them, with the exception of your girl friend, well, so this party will be a good opportunity to meet someone new and outside of your usual circles.

Though you still feel sluggish, you do your best to follow your girl friend’s lead and drag yourself out of bed. When both of your feet are planted on the floor, you feel slightly more grounded. With a deep breath, you glance at your friend, and when the two of you lock eyes, for the first time since the breakup, you feel like there is a way up.

–

There’s another thing that humans do that Sunday finds incredibly odd: they never dress properly for the weather. Whether it be forgetting an umbrella or wearing shoes that’ll easily get soaked through by snow or dressing so bare and scantily in the dead of winter, Sunday simply cannot wrap his head around it.

He’s hovering above the edge of your bed as he watches you and your friend chatter about. He does not usually clock in at night out of respect for your privacy and space – which is, in reality, a moot point, since you do not know that he is there in the first place –, but you previously had a fiasco where you knocked over a glass cup in your drunken stupor and left a deep gash in your hand. That gash was not supposed to be there, and Sunday has learned his lesson to always supervise you when you are out and about, socializing and mingling and making out with strangers.

Sunday sighs as he watches you fidget with the end of your dress. As always, you seem to try to wear as little as possible when it is literally freezing outside. The ponds in your neighborhood have frozen over. The weather forecast reported an intense cold draft. Yet your jitters are not from the chill or wind – they are solely from your excitement. When your girl friend tells you to fold the dress up by another inch, to show off more of your arse, something in Sunday’s temple jumps unpleasantly. But of course, you nod enthusiastically in agreement, and he blocks his sight with his wings as you lean over your dresser in search of a safety pin.

Sunday knows your only singular goal tonight is to find another “catch of a guy” to satiate your needs. He wants to scream at you – to wear more? to keep it in your pants? something else? maybe all of the above? –, but guardian angels are forbidden from appearing or interacting with their humans. He also reminds himself that he is not your mother, so there is no need for him to worry over you when he does not need to. He should only be stressed if he has to intervene.

He sighs as he follows the two of you out of your apartment. He really hopes your idiotic antics will not cost too much of his patience, and if they do, he swears he will put in a transfer request next year.

It does not take long for you to find your prey for the night. You arrived at another student’s apartment where a small crowd had already gathered on the floor, all exchanging drinks in red plastic cups and hiccuping with veins full of vodka and whisky. You join, naturally finding a spot beside who you deem to be the cutest in the room, while Sunday miniaturizes himself so that he can sit on top of your head.

The room is so loud, and woody cologne, gingerbread, and hair spray do not go together. But what he hates most is the direction in which your conversation is headed.

“Never seen you around,” your prey comments with a flash of a toothy grin.

You hum and nod your head vigorously. “Yeah! That’s so odd, since we’re in the same year and all.”

“For sure,” he continues, tone already a little too bold for a pre-game, “I definitely wouldn’t forget a face as pretty as yours.”

Guardian angels are supposed to be ambivalent towards humans in general, but even that poor excuse of a pickup line wants Sunday to abort his job. But you still eat it up, and he feels his blood pressure rise.

The two of you continue to make small talk before the majority of the group decides to relocate to someone else’s unit, which is larger and has freshly baked brownies resting in the oven. But because this apartment is bigger, you and your partner manage to find yourselves a comfortable corner, distancing yourselves from everyone else to have more “privacy.”

You ask, “Why are you staying back on campus?”

With a shrug, he responds, “Flights are expensive. I was upset at first, but…”

You cock your head to the side, look up, and flutter your eyelashes. Sunday’s eyebrow quirks, but he is not sure if it is out of annoyance or something else. That is your signature move, your flawless routine to pull boys in, and he has seen it over and over again before.

“But… what?” you ask, voice shy yet tinged with coyness.

He shakes his head. He needs to remain calm, vigilant, and most importantly, neutral. As a result, he decides the best thing he can do is abandon his post as an eavesdropper and entertain himself with other matters. He stands up and flutters down to reach your shoulders. As he descends, he watches as one of your eyelashes falls to rest on the apple of your cheek. He would move it out of the way – obviously to assist your efforts in getting your prey, not that the guy has noticed it in the first place –, but he knows he cannot. He then observes your earrings. Although he tries, the metal does not reflect his person, and he does not understand why he reacts with a drop in his stomach.

Frustrated with all these questions and indeterminants, Sunday perches on your shoulder.

At some point, you excuse yourself for another drink. Sunday follows closely, occasionally intervening so that you do not bump into other crossed students and experience another catastrophe. However, once you get your cup of punch, instead of returning to your partner for the night, you head over to the bathroom. Sunday is not sure if he should join you, but there is a glint in your eyes, something that triggers his intuition that you are planning something reckless and most likely desperate, so he stays rooted to your shoulder.

And lo and behold, his intuition has never failed him, and it does not tonight either. You down the juice in one go, slap your cheeks with your hands quite forcefully, and look at yourself square in the mirror. Sunday wishes he could have slapped his hands over your mouth.

You say, with feverish determination and promise, “I will not screw up! I think he’s the one, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure we work out! It’s Christmas, too, so I should be extra lucky!”

Sunday cannot resist the urge to roll his eyes. It is more than obvious that that guy is only in for a good time, not a long time. This is why Sunday insists you are one of the stupidest humans he has ever had the misfortune to work with.

But whenever he explains how much of a lost cause you are to Robin, rather than believing him, his sister questions him instead.

“Are you sure, Brother?” she once asked.

“Yes, absolutely! How can one be so blind!” he proclaimed as the feathers of his wings ruffled with displeasure.

“Well, I think your human is just dense, and I find that quite adorable. Is it not?”

Sunday quieted immediately.

Even to this day, he chalks his failure to respond up to the sheer shock at his sister’s reaction. It is not surprising in that his sister finds a human adorable – many of his coworkers often express their never-ending fascination and curiosity towards human nature, behaviors, and quirks. Rather, it is unjustified to find your idiocy, your denseness, your ignorance cute, and that makes him seethe.

Now, though, he is not sure his original conclusion or feelings are right or appropriate. As you head back, a strong desire to prevent you from finding that man stirs within his gut. Of course, Sunday does not act on such unreasonable urges, but truly, he would be lying to himself if he said he was neutral when it came to matters concerning you. Again, perhaps he is just impatient, perhaps he does not want to deal with your grief-stricken self – especially when your state is caused by an inconsequential man’s actions –, perhaps he simply does not want to see you unhappy.

But neither of your wishes come true. 

You return to the living room, only to find your desired partner cozying up with another girl. Sunday can only watch, looking up as he sees tears, droplets so large relative to his miniature size, stream down the sides of your cheek and chin. When you are not looking, more occupied with scampering back to your apartment as quickly as possible, he catches one of your droplets in his hands, observing it as it hovers in front of him, still failing to show his reflection. He lets it go moments later, but how he wishes he could hold onto it for longer.

But more than that, he knows he would never make you cry like that. If only he was allowed, even one chance, to speak to you, knock some sense into you, demonstrate to you the treatment that you deserve. That way, you would learn your lesson, your true worth, and he would feel like he is actually doing his job as your guardian angel.

In the back of his mind, though, Sunday knows he would never actually feel satisfied – and that he will always worry over you, no matter what. After all, there is a reason why that rule is in place, and it is not to regulate humans. Indeed, humans are fickle creatures. Guardian angels, on the other hand, watch over a human from the time they are born to the day they die. This rule was created to keep the angels in check – to restrain their possession, greed, and lust from running amuck.

Robin is right. You are as downright adorable as you are clueless. But he did not want anyone else to find out, despite knowing there is nothing – nothing at all – that he can do about that.

winter event masterlist

[unconventional-lawnchair]

White Dog {Blurb}

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary: {Y/N}, daughter of a police captain, shows her support of Red Hood in an unconventional way.

CW: Cussing, use of {Y/N}, Reader drinks and gets drunk, not proof read

Wc: 1979

It was raining in Gotham, but in truth, when wasn't it? Rain drummed steadily in your eardrums, as it pelted the windows and roof, your heart seemed to respond to it.

You had never been so nervous. You had coordinated banquets, partied with modern and ancient stars alike, you had met Bruce Wayne as a child and even interviewed with Carmine Falcone himself on behalf of your father.

Even then, your hands still shook with nerves. Being a socialite in Gotham wasn't anything to scoff at, your father was a police Captain and ever since you were young you used his connections to make a mark on the city. People called it charming when you were younger, just an ambitious child who would carry around a recorder and paper at every function your father brought you to, asking a million different questions to a million different people.

People who now saw you as an equal.

Tonight, however, you were exposing yourself for the first time. Years of appeasing people, of working your way to the top, one of your art pieces had been picked up by ‘The Guilder Frame.’ - An art Gallery.

A piece your father hated. After spending the last few years trying to take down Red Hood, dismantle his criminal empire, his daughter comes out with a controversial piece that had the very ground buzzing with gossip.

The painting itself, "Guardian," sat behind you, a vibrant splash of color against the gallery's stark white walls. You were holding a glass of red wine as you spoke with a few people who would come to you about the piece, entertained the occasional reporter, and talk up to a few more higher society guests.

Most people were more intrigued with the statement you were making than the piece itself, flashing photos despite the ample rule of no flash photography. Everyone was dressed to the nines, and it was beginning to feel a bit more like the night was an excuse to raise some heads about darling {Y/N} {L/N} and her defiance towards everything her father had worked for.

You glanced back at the photo with a bit of pride. It depicted Red Hood, battered yet resolved, shielding a small white dog with his body- a stark contrast to the sophisticated art surrounding it. His helmet was chipped down the middle, and where his face would usually sit to the naked eye, you had clipped newspaper articles and quotes, of all the horrible things people had called him over the years. You couldn't help but feel the weight of your father's disapproval as you imagined his stern expression; a protector of the law grappling with the reality of his daughter admiring a vigilante.

One he had dedicated years to capture.

You took a deep breath, the mingling scents of paint, wine, and polished wood filling your lungs as you sat beside your painting, prideful. The murmurs and laughter echoed around you, but your mind was consumed with thoughts of your father's discontent and the risk you had taken in showcasing a piece that celebrated a man he viewed as a criminal. You hadn't spoken to him since the painting was picked up, but he was here.

Here to celebrate you, no matter how his face would twist in absolute disgust when he could glance at the framed art piece.

“Such a daring choice, my dear.” Your thoughts were cut off by a voice, smooth and dripping with faux sincerity. You turned to find a well-dressed socialite, a woman much like you, her smile a mix of intrigue and condescension. “Isn’t it a bit reckless, painting a vigilante as a hero? What would your father say?”

It wasn't the first time someone had asked you that tonight, it wouldn't be the last. Despite your disinterest in carrying on the same conversation, you plastered on a confident smile, determined not to let anyone see your unease. “Art is meant to challenge perceptions.” You hummed, your voice steady and a dazzling smile overtaking your face. “Red Hood is more than just a criminal. He’s a protector in his own way, and my painting reflects that complexity.”

The woman raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your lack of challenge, and moved on to another guest, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You glanced back at "Guardian," the colors were dark and brutal. The reds and blacks bleed into a perfect scene, contrasting sharply with the soft white of the dog, who seemed to glow with innocence amidst the chaos. It was a visceral representation of the duality of Gotham itself- beauty and brutality intertwined, much like your own life.

You took a sip of your wine, letting the bitter taste swirl in your mouth as you tried to shake off the lingering unease. You turned back to the crowd before you spotted your father. It seemed his pride had lost, as he surfed through the crowd towards you. Not a hint of malice in his eyes, and you found yourself a bit excited. This was something you didn't just want to share with Gotham, but with him too.

You straightened your back and flattened your dress, only to hear a voice from beside you.

“Guardian, huh?”

You felt yourself deflate a bit at the question. Turning to face the figure only for your breath to catch in your throat.

A man, much taller than you, with piercing blue eyes and a tuft of white hair peaking from his black curls. Your eyes widened a bit, as you fully took him in. Unlike the people around you, in suits and dresses, glamoured and beautiful, he was in a simple hoodie, hood up to cover his face, and sweats that had a single hole at the ankle.

His presence was disarming, almost comforting, a stark contrast to the polished, pretentious atmosphere of the gallery. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, as if he saw something raw. Not seeing the socialite, the artists, the conversation piece but simply a person.

“Uh, yes.” You stammered, trying to regain your composure. “It’s about the complexity of Red Hood. He’s often painted as a villain, but I wanted to show the other side- how he protects those who can’t protect themselves.”

He stepped closer, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a half-smile. Stepping around you, his body so close your heart stopped for a moment. He smelt like the rain outside, something a bit more earthy, almost metallic. He smelt nothing like the perfumes and colognes that made your head ache. The ones that drowned out most conversations in the hall.

“I see that.” He chuckled, voice dark and rich with something so dangerously comforting.

“I read your plaque.” He hummed and tapped the metal sign beside the painting that had the same quote from you, word for word. You had almost forgotten it, seeing as everyone else had neglected it, but he seemed to hang on every word. “‘In a city drenched in shadows, sometimes the greatest guardians emerge from the depths of darkness.’ Powerful stuff.”

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by how he interpreted your thoughts. “Thank you.” You smiled, your voice softening. “I wanted to capture the idea that even those deemed unworthy can still be protectors.”

You walked away from the wall for the first time of the night, standing beside him, and looking up at the painting with him, before glancing at him from the corner of your eye, to see he was already looking at you.

“Forgive my skepticism.” He spoke low, just for you. “You seem to pay him a lot of mind.” He offered before he lifted his finger to point at the white dog.

“Innocence. Is there any innocence left in Gotham?” He questioned and you nodded immediately.

“As long as there is life in Gotham, there will be innocence.” You mused quickly and he furrowed his brow at you. There was another moment of silence, as you glanced back to see your father was talking to Commissioner Gordon. Keeping him busy for the time being.

“What inspired this?” The boy finally spoke to you again, and when you turned this time, his eyes were locked on the painting.

You pursed your lip and bit your cheek. No one had asked you that yet, no one seemed to care more about it outside of the chaos it caused.

“A year ago, I was leaving a pub after a party.” You started, eyes tracing over the white dog in the image. “I was walking back, it was stupid of me but I wasn't more then a block or two from home. I wanted to take a shortcut through an alleyway.”

You took a deep breath, the memory flooding back as you fought to keep your voice steady. You could almost smell the awful stench of liquor on your own breath. “I didn’t think anything of it at the time- just a typical night in Gotham. But as I turned into the alley, I was cornered by a couple of guys. They were aggressive, and for a moment, I thought it was over for me.”

Your gaze drifted away from the painting, lost in the memory. “And then he came. Red Hood. I can’t even explain how it felt to see him. He was like a force of nature, moving with purpose. He didn’t hesitate; he was bloodied himself, knuckles were purple and his body clearly wasn't ready for a fight so soon. But he saw me. He saved me.”

You paused, the weight of your words hanging in the air as you felt a mix of vulnerability and strength wash over you. You had rehearsed this story, this moment, over and over again in your head. Yet it came out nothing like intended. “He fought them off without a second thought. It was like he had this innate sense of who needed help and when. In that moment, I wasn’t just another victim; I was someone worth saving.”

The man beside you watched intently, his expression shifting from curiosity to something deeper- perhaps understanding or sympathy. You stretched out your hand, actually touching the painting to trace the bruised skin you spent hours perfecting from your memory. “He wrapped his arm around me, when it was over. But he had this crack, down the center of his mask.”

The man beside you stiffened, and he stared at you with widening eyes. You traced the painted crack and eyed over the slam piece clippings. Taking a moment, you finally turned to lock eyes with the looming figure. “I saw his face.”

His jaw dropped a bit, eyes scanning yours for any proof that you remembered. And by the sly smirk and dazzling eyes, filled with so much admiration for a presumed stranger- “Shit, uhm-”

You couldn't held back a laugh, covering your mouth as it came out a bit too loud. You shook your head and before he could respond, held your hand up to quiet him. Turning to face your father as he made it out of the sea of people. Before you left, you turned to look at him one more time. He seemed to still be grappling with the new information. “You should join me, at the after party.” You offered, pausing for just a moment. “Let me thank you properly.”

And with that, you walked away from him. Greeting your father and starting up a mundane conversation. You could feel it, however, his eyes on you. Turning, you watched as he stared at you. Expression blank but his cheeks a flushed shade of red, looking out of place and confused. You smiled at him and it seemed to snap him out of whatever daze he was in. Quickly fixing the hoodie on his face to disappear into the sea of people.

[oscinhaslandito]

COFFEE AND CHEMISTRY

The First Encounter:

Y/N sighed as she entered the university library, clutching her laptop and a half-drunk iced coffee. She spotted Oscar Piastri, her senior and brother’s best friend, sitting at a corner table, engrossed in his code. Lando had texted her earlier: "Go find Osc, he's at the library. Tell him to eat or something."

She hesitated before approaching, feeling a bit awkward interrupting him. "Hey, Oscar. Lando sent me to... check on you?"

Oscar looked up, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Classic Lando. You’re his messenger now?"

"Apparently. Also, can I sit here? The Wi-Fi is awful everywhere else," she asked, already pulling out her chair, though her voice held a slight edge of hesitation.

"Go ahead," he said with a shrug, sliding his notes aside to make space.

She noticed the assortment of neatly arranged notes and the faint smell of coffee around him. Settling down, she opened her laptop and glanced at him, realizing this might not be as awkward as she thought. Over the next hour, they worked in parallel, occasionally exchanging a word or two, and by the time Y/N packed up, she was surprised at how comfortable she felt.

Study Sessions:

Their study sessions became a routine. Every other day, Y/N would find herself at the same table with Oscar, their laptops open and the occasional sound of typing filling the air. He would guide her through complex algorithms, his calm explanations cutting through her frustration.

"Wait, so if I just refactor this part of the code, it works?" she asked, her eyes wide with realization. She clicked a few keys, and the once-buggy program finally ran smoothly.

"Exactly," Oscar said, his tone patient. "It’s just cleaner and more efficient this way."

Y/N threw her hands up in mock surrender. "I owe you my GPA," she said dramatically, earning a quiet chuckle from him.

"You’re figuring it out yourself. I’m just nudging you in the right direction," he replied, but there was a hint of pride in his voice. "Wow, you're like my guardian mentor."

Oscar looked at her with a confused raise of brow. "Guardian mentor?"

She looked way too proud of her words, "Yeah, like a Guardian Angel who helps me study. That's a Guardian Mentor."

Over time, her confidence grew. She started solving problems faster, but still turned to him when she hit a wall. Those moments became less about solving the problem and more about the comfort of knowing someone had her back. Sometimes, they’d take short breaks, sharing stories about classes or laughing over ridiculous memes Y/N found. Each session felt less like a chore and more like a shared ritual.

The Comfortable Silences:

Not every session was filled with conversation. Sometimes, they’d sit in companionable silence, the only sounds being the tapping of keys and the occasional flip of a page. It was oddly comforting. Y/N found herself appreciating Oscar’s quiet focus and the subtle way he’d glance at her screen, checking on her progress without saying a word.

On one of those silent nights, she looked up and found him staring at the ceiling, his pen tapping lightly against his notebook. "Penny for your thoughts?" she asked, breaking the silence.

He shrugged, offering her a small smile. "Just wondering if I’ll survive my final project."

"If you don’t, who’s going to help me with mine?" she teased, earning a chuckle.

Occasionally, the silence was punctuated by shared snacks or the soft sound of Oscar humming absentmindedly. It was in these moments that Y/N realized how much she enjoyed his company, even without words.

The Breakthrough:

When Y/N finally completed a particularly tricky assignment, she nearly jumped out of her seat, earning a glare from the librarian.

"It works! Oscar, look!" she whispered excitedly, pointing at her screen.

He leaned over, his shoulder brushing hers as he checked her work. A proud smile spread across his face. "Told you you’d get it."

"Team effort," she said, grinning. "You’re like my coding guardian angel."

Lando, who had just arrived with snacks, raised his hands in mock celebration. "Hallelujah, the nerds have triumphed! Let’s commemorate this moment with pizza."

"Deal," Y/N said, laughing.

"You know," Lando added, "I feel like I deserve some credit for this too. I’m the one who made you two start studying together."

"Sure, Lando," Y/N said, rolling her eyes. "Your contribution was invaluable."

Oscar smirked. "The moral support was life-changing."

Lando grinned. "Exactly. Glad you both finally see it."

Later that night, as they walked back to their dorms, Y/N turned to Oscar. "Thanks for always helping me. I don’t think I would’ve gotten through this semester without you."

"Anytime," he replied softly, his gaze lingering on her a moment longer than usual.

The Late Nights:

Their study sessions often stretched into the late evenings. The library’s quiet hum became their soundtrack as they worked under the soft glow of desk lamps. On one particularly late night, Y/N’s head started to droop, her notes blurring before her eyes.

Oscar noticed, nudging her gently with his elbow. "You’re falling asleep," he said softly.

"Am not," she mumbled, her eyes half-closed.

"Come on," he said, packing up her things. "I’ll walk you back to your dorm."

"You’re too nice," she murmured, already half-asleep as they walked through the empty campus.

"Someone’s gotta look out for you," he replied, his voice low but warm. The quiet night air seemed to hold something unspoken between them.

The Little Gestures and Moments:

One evening, Y/N’s iced coffee was running low, and Oscar excused himself for a break. He returned with a fresh cup for her, setting it down without a word.

"Thought you’d need it," he said simply, his tone casual.

She blinked up at him, touched by the gesture. "Thanks, Osc."

Before she could say more, Lando sauntered over, smirking. "Well, aren’t you thoughtful?" he said, plopping into a seat.

Oscar rolled his eyes. "Don’t make it weird."

"Too late," Lando quipped, winking at Y/N.

The next day, Lando’s teasing escalated. "So, Osc, is this your secret way of wooing her? Coffee runs and all?"

"It’s called being polite," Oscar replied, though his ears turned slightly red.

Y/N groaned. "Lando, stop embarrassing him—and me!"

"Never," Lando said, grinning. "It’s my brotherly duty."

Later, as Oscar handed her a printout she needed, Lando chimed in, "Oh, a printout too? What’s next, love letters?"

Y/N threw a pen at him. "Out. Now."

Lando left, laughing, but not before saying, "I’m just saying—romance isn’t dead!"

Oscar started leaving small sticky notes with helpful tips or encouraging words on her desk when she wasn’t looking. One read, "You’ve got this! - OP." Y/N couldn’t help but smile, saving the notes in her notebook.

Between the teasing and late-night sessions, it was the small moments that stood out. The way Oscar would share his notes without hesitation, or how Y/N would save him a seat during crowded study hours. The way their hands would occasionally brush when reaching for a pen, lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

It was in those fleeting touches and quiet smiles that an unspoken bond began to grow. Neither of them said anything, but both felt it. One evening, as Y/N leaned over to grab her bag, Oscar absentmindedly tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She froze for a moment, their eyes meeting, before he quickly pulled back, his cheeks tinged with pink.

The Lando Fiasco:

Lando occasionally joined them, his presence like a whirlwind that disrupted their serene environment. He would sprawl out in a chair, his arms crossed behind his head and a bag of snacks on the table.

"You two look like an ad for academic excellence," he teased, tossing a gummy bear at Y/N. "Do you ever do normal things, or is it all code and coffee?"

"Yeah yeah, we get it we're nerdy. Blah blah blah," Y/N rolled her eyes, catching the gummy bear and popping it into her mouth.

He chuckled, looking amused, "But seriously, don’t let Oscar turn you into a full-blown nerd," Lando added, smirking at his best friend.

Oscar smirked back, his tone deadpan. "She’s already better at debugging than you ever were."

"Rude," Lando replied, pretending to be offended. "I was just giving her the opportunity to shine. You’re welcome, Y/N."

Another time, Lando leaned over to peer at Y/N’s screen. "What are you even doing? That looks like an alien language."

"It’s called programming, Lando," she replied dryly.

"Yeah, and it’s definitely not for humans," he quipped. "Osc, how do you even understand this stuff?"

Oscar shrugged. "It’s just practice. You could learn it if you tried."

Lando snorted. "I’ll stick to spreadsheets, thanks."

Sometimes, his interruptions turned into rambling monologues about business strategies or bizarre hypotheticals. One evening, he sprawled across the table dramatically. "If I get a friend to create an app for matchmaking nerds, would you two be my test subjects?"

Y/N groaned. "Lando, we’re trying to focus."

Oscar, without looking up, replied just so Lando wouldn't bug them further, "Only if you promise to never bring this up again."

Lando grinned. "Deal. But you’d owe me royalties if it works."

He also had a knack for sneaking pictures of them studying. "Just documenting the nerd life," he’d say, showing them a candid shot of Oscar leaning over to help Y/N with a problem. "For the memories."

"So, when are you two gonna start dating?" Lando asked one day, casually leaning against the table.

Y/N choked on her coffee, and Oscar’s ears turned red.

"What? We’re just studying," Y/N protested, her voice a mix of embarrassment and disbelief.

"Sure, and I love pescatarians," Lando said, grinning. "Seriously, Osc, you’re basically already part of the family. Just make it official."

Oscar cleared his throat, trying to regain composure. "You’re unbelievable."

"And you’re avoiding the question," Lando shot back, his teasing grin widening.

Later, when Y/N had stepped away to go to class, Lando leaned closer to Oscar. "Just so you know, if you hurt her, you’ll have to deal with me."

Oscar’s expression softened. "I’d never do that."

Lando nodded, his usual playful demeanor giving way to sincerity for a moment. "Good."

On another day, Lando orchestrated a "random" movie night, conveniently inviting just the two of them. "Oops, looks like I’m busy tonight," he said, feigning regret. "Guess it’s just you two."

Y/N glared at him. "You’re the least subtle person ever."

"You’re welcome," Lando said, unabashed.

His meddling didn’t stop there. He started dropping hints to their mutual friends, ensuring they’d all conveniently "notice" how close Oscar and Y/N were. "Don’t you think they’d make a cute couple?" he’d say, grinning mischievously.

Lando’s teasing, it was clear to everyone—especially Lando—that there was something special about their dynamic. Whether it was the way Oscar’s gaze softened when Y/N talked about her goals, or how Y/N instinctively turned to Oscar for reassurance, their connection spoke volumes.

"You’re good for each other," Lando said one evening, his tone unusually sincere.

Oscar glanced at Y/N, who was too busy typing to notice. "Yeah," he said quietly, a small smile playing on his lips. "I guess we are."

The Confession:

It wasn’t a grand confession, but rather a culmination of Lando’s relentless teasing and their own shared moments. One evening, as they packed up from another late study session, Oscar sighed, his gaze shifting from the desk to Y/N.

"Can I ask you something?" he began, his tone a little more serious than usual.

She looked up, her expression curious. "What’s up?"

"Do you... ever get tired of Lando pushing us together?"

Y/N laughed softly. "Constantly. He’s relentless."

Oscar hesitated, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. "The thing is... he’s not entirely wrong. About us, I mean."

Her smile faltered, replaced by a look of surprise. "Oscar..."

"I just think," he continued, his voice steady but earnest, "that maybe we’re wasting time pretending he’s off-base. Because he’s not. At least, not for me. What about you?"

She stared at him for a moment, her heartbeat loud in her ears. Then, a small, shy smile spread across her face. "He’s not wrong for me either."

Relief washed over Oscar’s face, and his lips curved into a genuine smile. "So, what do you say? Dinner? Just us?"

"Are you asking me out, Piastri?"

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Spooky Season | Halloween Event 2024

Her Guardian Angel | Jeonghan

🧡 Pairing: Guardian Angel!Yoon Jeonghan x Human!Reader

🖤 Requested by: Anon

🧡 Prompt: 22 - Reader has never believed in angels until she meets her guardian angel.

🖤 Warnings: there's a creep. a mention of cheating at the end.

🧡 Word Count: 1,165

🖤 Taglist: Open. Send an ask or fill out the Tag List Form. Please note that the halloween event taglist is included in the general taglist.

Spooky Season 2024 Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Feeling eyes on her, Y/N turns her head finding a man a few feet away watching her intently. He doesn’t look away until his eyes widen when he realizes she’s looking right back at him. Holding on to her purse strap even tighter, she turns back and continues on her way, now more vigilant of her surroundings.  

She wasn’t meant to be walking home, alone or at all but after waiting almost an hour for her boyfriend to pick her up like he said he would. She tried messaging and calling him feeling panicked that something could have happened to him. But relief washes over her when he finally replied five minutes ago, letting her know that he got caught up with work and that he’s sorry he won’t be able to come and get her.  

As she walks, she replays her and her boyfriend’s last conversation in her mind. It started out as an argument about her accepting a ride home from one of her co-workers and his wife after she missed the bus and they’d seen walking alone. The sound of her boyfriend’s voice in her head, reassuring her that he would be there to pick her up from now, irks her to no end.  

As her frustration grows, an image of the man that had been watching her begins to flash in her mind. She glances over her shoulder, half-expecting to see him still there, but he’s vanished, nowhere to be seen. Y/N quickens her pace, her footsteps echoing against the footpath as she turns down the street leading to her home, which was dimly lit compared to the main roads she had just walked. 

The prickling sensation of being watched returns as she glances up the narrow street. The familiar route home begins to feel like dark and ominous as if something sinister is lurking in the shadows waiting for her to take a step forward. Pulling out her phone, she turns the flashlight on, illuminating the street as much as she can. 

Y/N’s not even half way up the street when a strong stench of alcohol invades her senses causing her stomach to churn as she covers her nose. A low, rumbling laugh echoes from behind her. Her heart skips a beat, and she instinctively twists her body around toward the source of the sound. There she finds a scruffy middle-aged drunk stumbling towards. She steps back, losing her balance and falling backward. The drunk reaches out for her, mumbling incoherently but is stopped when the man that had been watching her appears in front of her in the blink of an eye. He pushes the man back, shocking the both her and the drunk.  

The young man turns to face her. His deep brown sleepy eyes are sharp and filled with curiosity. She wonders if he’s human by how ethereal he looks with his flawless skin and perfectly proportioned facial features. “You can see me?” he questions her.  

Unable to find her voice she just nods.  

“Yah!” the drunk shouts, as he stumbles to his feet. “How did you do that?” he growls, looking at her as if he’s seeing right through the man that’s standing between them. He goes to advance towards her again only for the man to stretch his arm out behind him and fling him back against the wall. This time, the man slumps down, unconscious. Y/N’s eyes flicker between the drunk and the young man in shock. 

“Are you okay?” the young man asks, his voice steady, drawing her attention back to him.  

She nods again, her heart racing. she feels a strange mix of fear and fascination.  

“Good,” he replies, his lips curling into a slight smile that softens the sharpness of his features. Holding out a hand, he waits for her to take it before helping her to her feet. “I didn’t mean to startle you. He didn’t touch you, did he?”  

She shakes her head this time letting him know he didn’t get that close to her. “Who are you?” she manages to ask, her voice barely above a whisper.  

“I’m your guardian angel,” he tells her. “I’m the one assigned to protect you and keep you safe.” 

“Angels aren’t real,” she shakes her head, thinking this could be a bad dream. 

“I’m afraid we are,” he tries to persuade her. “Remember that time you were almost hit by a car when you were sixteen. You weren’t paying attention to where you were going?” 

The memory comes to her mind. She remembers it as if it only happened yesterday. “I felt myself being pulled back by no one was close enough to do it.” 

“That was me,” he says. “You couldn’t see me back then. But for some reason you can right now.” 

“Oh my- What’s happening right now?” she says, her hands clutching her head as she tries to make sense of his words. 

“I’m just as confused as you are,” he admits, not looking the slightest bit confused. His expression was still one of pure curiosity. “Let me walk you the rest of the way home and then I’ll try to figure it out.” 

“If you’re my guardian angel, shouldn’t you be following me anyway?” she challenges him. 

He chuckles softly, a sound that seems like music to her ears. “You’re right, but sometimes, even we have to take a step back and let you go your own way. It’s how you human’s sometimes need to learn. Especially when you go against your intuition.” 

“Are you giving me a lecture right now?” she asks, her brow furrowing as she tries to process the surreal situation unfolding before her.  

“Not a lecture, more of a next time you get a bad feeling, listen to it,” he replies, his tone light and teasing. 

“Okay, Angel boy,” she scoffs, now feeling more at ease. Turning on her heel, she continues her walk home, her guardian angel keeping his distance as he follows her to make sure there’s no more trouble. 

As they reach her home, the angel remains at the bottom step as she unlocks the door to go inside. She goes to take a step into the house but stops herself.  

“I never got your name, Angel boy,” she says as she turns around to face him.  

He climbs the few steps and stands in front of her. Tucking the strand of hair that had fallen in front of her face back behind her ear, he tells her his name, “Yoon Jeonghan.” 

“You have a human name?” she asks. 

“You think I was born an angel?” he asks, a small smirk playing on his lips. “I was human once too.” 

She’s about to say something when the slamming of a car door echoes through the quietness of the street. “You should go,” Y/N tells her angel when the gate her home begins to open. 

“He’s cheating on you,” Jeonghan tells her before disappearing just as her boyfriend walks through the gate. 

©️ 2024 dancinglikebutterflywings - do not copy/modify/repost anywhere. reblog instead

Tag List Form.

@rainydayteacups - @staytiny2000 - @forever-atiny - @shuaserendipity95 - @do-you-remember-summer-127

@catzachvsvt - @lemur46 - @ateez-atiny380 - @lovrehani - @jjeongddol

@lixisoul99 - @satoruifys -

[moremaybank]

-͟͟͞☆ pining best friend!jj headcanons...

warnings mentions of menstrual pads/tampons, mentions of being drunk/high (barely)

jj masterlist

❥ he keeps hair ties around his wrist, strategically mixed in with his bracelets, and stashes a few scrunchies in the pocket of his backpack because he knows how much you hate it when your hair is flying around in your face (especially when it's getting stuck in your lip gloss). bonus points if you have textured hair and wear a bonnet while you sleep because he'll totally buy (steal) you one and keep that on him, too (for impromptu sleepovers)

❥ he practically lives in your room/house

❥ he can measure precisely how sad you are depending on what song you're listening to

❥ stargazing and having conversations about everything and nothing

❥ tucks you in when you fall asleep without a blanket or on top of the covers

❥ (for those who have/experience periods) he's too embarrassed to go out and buy you pads/tampons (only because he doesn't know what he's doing and is so adorably nervous about it), so when you aren't looking, he'll steal a few of yours and keep them at the chateau for you. he even keeps some at his house on the off chance that you come over

❥ i've talked about this in the past, but he'll take your makeup off and do your skincare for you if you're too drunk, high or just plain exhausted

❥ he's clingy as fuck when he's tired and will make you his personal body pillow

❥ will deny it to the group's faces but he loves to sing/dance to taylor swift with you, especially in the car (#carpoolkaraoke)

❥ when you're baking/cooking, he'll dip his fingers into everything and give it a taste test because he loves the look on your face when you 'scold' him

❥ always has a hoodie on/with him because he knows you're too stubborn and will deny that you'll get cold (even though you definitely will)

❥ dragging you out of bed at 3am for slurpees

❥ constantly finding ways to touch you

❥ asks you to teach him how to braid hair

❥ he'd steal one of your rings and loop it onto his shark tooth necklace so you're always with him

❥ if you have a dog, cat, etc., he'll carry them around your face like they're his baby (which they are)

❥ hogs the covers and yanks them off of you so you have to move closer to him/cuddle with him

❥ takes you for night swims at the beach/at the chateau

❥ picks random flowers for you, sometimes he'll put them in your hair

❥ he always carries your bags for you

❥ opens every single door for you (he's such a gentleman, i love him)

❥ if he's close with your parent(s)/guardian(s), he'll come over solely to hang out with them (and revel in the pout on your face when you realize he isn't there to chill with you)

❥ the type to binge-watch your shows with you and ask a million questions about the characters/plots but refuses to watch it on his own

❥ plays with your stuffed animals and gives them all different voices (and definitely steals one when you aren't looking)

jj tag list (join here!): @maybankslover @kittyqrt @v-velvetykisscs @hobiibobii @rafesdior @fool4him @hemogloban @pankhoeforlife @rafesmuse @lyn07 @houseofperfecttaste @qualitybelieverflower-blog @dudenhaaa27 @princessbetsy123-blog @tori-loves1 @alexxavicry @kenzi-woycehoski @elijahssuit @skydisneylover @adoreyouusugar @obxjjpouge @conniesanchor @baby-maybank @angel037 @wotfasked @rafelover @penny4yourthoughts @nerd505 @xngelsau @maybank-archives @p4nkowrld @spideybrina @pankowperfection @demiioxox @adr1an4 @lov3r0fr0ck @ellesalazar @buckyisveryhot @hoeforstarkey24 @aliyahsomerhalder @thelastgreatamericandynasty1989 @1spiderman1 @tell-me-when-you’re-ready @rosie-anne @slytherhoes @taintedxkisses

[weskie]

Random thoughts:

-Weskiepoo rarely goes drinking beyond getting a bit tipsy because he’s actually such a fucking idiot when he’s drunk. I once saw a mini comic about a very inebriated Albert crashing the Birkins’ wedding with his intoxicated shenanigans and it has never left me since

-He is a polyglot thanks to his extensive grooming teaching. He can speak Italian, French, Spanish, Russian, Japanese, and can carry a basic conversation in German, Romanian, and Dutch. He will use this for Evil (read: dirty talking in foreign languages to watch you melt) as well as Good (read: telling you he loves you more than life itself in languages you don’t speak so you’ll never know the true gravity of his adoration)

-He’s a gossip whore. He acts like he doesn’t give a shit but he EATS UP every shred of gossip he hears from everyone. Tell him about your workplace drama he will devour it.

-He babysat Sherry quite a bit and is actually her Godfather. He finds her adorable and charming and was extremely distressed at the thought of her dying in Raccoon City, so when he found out about Leon and Claire saving her, he felt inclined to spare them his wrath as much as he could (he found out that Sherry was alive after CVX, he wouldn’t have attacked Claire if he knew).

-He’s one of those people that literally no one expects to be good with kids or even like kids but he’s actually quite good with children. He’s mostly neutral about them, doesn’t love nor hate them, but if he finds an unattended child you bet your ass he’s gonna look after them until he can find their guardian. Very good at keeping kids distracted

-Autistic as fuck. This is why he wears the sunglasses and gloves. He stims with Uroboros

drunk wesker gets on the karaoke machine, full send. it's how we ended up with that one pokerface cover from him >:)

and god i love the one about the gossip too. he's a listener. and sure, his presence dominates whatever room he's in, but i guarantee that man used to hang back and listen to all of the drama the old s.t.a.r.s. crew used to talk about. love lives, family matters, random happenings in the city... it's all entertainment to him. even during his time at umbrella, i imagine he'd eavesdrop now and then. and why would anyone care? it's not like wesker is known for being a talker.

also goddddd imagining him being good with kids gives me baby fever (and i don't even want kids 😭). wesker with some kiddo resting on his lap while he reads an incident report aloud, leaving out all the scary parts, mind you.

these are all so good 😭😭 wesker on the brain forever and ever

[adventuringblind]

Oscar the Matchmaker: Chapter Five

Oscar Jack Piastri x Reader x Max Verstappen

Summary: a deep dive into the readers background and a reappearance of a pair she never wanted to see again

Warnings: toxic relationships, mentions of past abuse, reference to SH, mentions and allusions to r*pe and SA, drugging, toxic media

Notes: it's long.... really really long 🫠

Masterlist

She didn’t hide her past relationship experiences. Partly because she couldn't.

Her and Oscar had been friends for years before they started dating. He'd been with her through many breakups. Most of them messy. Some of them even made him question humanity.

Her first relationship wasn't bad. A small one in high school with a guy. They found that they just weren't made for each other, and that was okay. It ended mutually.

Then, there was some experimentation. A few parties ended in interesting ways.

Then, her first series relationship. This was where she was in love, dated, and then fell in love again. She'd spent nights crying on her floor over it and long ass calls with Oscar, who had no clue what she was on about.

Then she tried to explain. Drunk one night and her brain attempting to throw her in the deep to drown her in dark thoughts. She'd come out to him and it was the first time she truly said it out loud to anyone.

Turns out her partner at the time was listening in and left her because of it. Many filthy words leaving his mouth that had her spiraling for weeks.

So she stopped dating all together. She put all her effort into racing. Her friendship with Oscar was also blooming. They had a way of understanding each other that nobody understood.

She explored having multiple partners. None of it ended well. Mostly couples just looking for a good time. It hurt. She wanted something real, and when they said it was, she was gullible enough to believe them.

In Formula 3, she met a couple. Not on purpose, she'd just been around town, and they started a conversation. One thing led to another, and she ended up being in a trio with them.

She spent a year with them. She thought it was a good year. She wanted so badly for it to be good. But Oscar saw right through what was happening.

They lived together, and she traveled. They lied and manipulated. They used and abused. She felt stuck. But she didn't feel like she could tell anyone to help her out of the situation.

She had to keep up appearances. She couldn't let anyone in. The fear of what it would do to her career at the age of eighteen weighed heavy on her. She was barely an adult!

She struggled that year. Everyone saw it.

Thankfully, her racing was improving. She wasn't winning as much as Oscar, but she was keeping up with him. They got to move up at the same time. The Redbull junior ranks wanted to move her up as soon as possible because of her potential.

Formula 2 was intense. Her partners were basking in the fact she couldn't will herself to leave.

Why did love hurt so much?

Her and Oscar were in her hotel room the night after a race in the early season. The fact that anyone would take advantage of her kindness made him angry. The fact that she'd been used for sex tipped him over the edge.

Then he saw the bruises littering her skin. The thin red lines that she'd definitely given herself. And he lost it.

He was her guardian angel. Helped her cut contact with them.

He'd helped her go get her things. It was the first time she'd even let him into the flat.

Red flag one: her room was separate. Their room was definitely big enough for all three of them, but it's like there was no trace of her.

Red flag two: it's like she only existed as a reprieve to them. There was hardly a trace on her anywhere. There were no pictures of all three of them. Her shoes and coats weren't even in the closet by the door.

She moved in with him after that. Then she just never left.

Neither of them were sure of when it happened. The growing feelings for each other were not going away. So they did something about it.

She was absolutely terrified to lose him. He was all she had in terms of stability. Her family didn't agree with her choices, and even though she stayed in contact, they didn't particularly try to be involved.

They'd taken it so slow. He was so gentle with her. She was the kind soul who wasn't afraid to defend him with her life. He was absolutely smitten.

Still is.

She looks at her two lovers in the press conference with her. Grateful that they are here because she tends to get certain questions that make her eyes roll.

Max loves to answer them for her. Oscar lobes to be sarcastic with them. Either way, it worked out, and she always ended up with a smile on her face.

The three walk through the paddock together. To everyone else, they were just close friends, and Max saw potential in them - or something like that.

Charles and Lando found out the hard way what was going on. Christian is supportive and is always making sure you guys have a safe space if neccecary. Logan has known the female and Aussie for long enough to know that something was going on and figured out out when he saw the three leave together late one night. Yuki was just outright oblivious, and she is grateful for that.

She didn't like people knowing. She'd been called things she never wanted to hear again. She'd had friends leave because of it. She'd lost family over her incessant need to have sex with more than one person. It made her feel gross, and She'd determined the best thing to do was not tell anyone.

Unfortunately, this weekend, she would get outed to the world.

~

Smiles are on the menu today. She couldn't be happier despite the fact her car is ridicoulusly difficult and arguably the slowest on the grid. Her three points are really nothing to scoff at when you take into account that fact.

They are in Silverstone. One of Oscar’s home races and he has new upgrades on his car. Why wouldn’t she be happy about that?

They agreed to meet between practices. The rendezvous being Max’s driver room. Mostly because Christian knew already which made Redbull the best option.

Whilst they were walking, she spots a couple familiar faces in the crowd. Her heart jumps to her throat and her body freezes with a feeling she can’t describe.

They catch her gaze and it’s like her her entire world falls apart. Her breath is heavy as they walk towards her.

Oscar follows her gaze to hopefully see what she’s seeing. He does. The couple walking towards them incredibly familiar.

She can’t register the two attempting to guid her away. Ducking behind corners and opting for the McLaren garage instead since it’s closer. Oscar successfully gets them inside undetected.

His hands are cupping her cheeks. The distant stare not helping his concern.

Max looks between them hurriedly. “What’s going on? I’m worried and I don’t understand why-“

“Her exes are here.”

~

Max wasn’t sure if this technically could be deemed a safety issue, but he doesn’t care. He sneaks his way through to the Redbull garage and locates Christian. The only person he knows who could help them out.

“Christian! Do you have a second to talk privately?”

He spins around on his heels to face Max. “Sure. Everything okay?” They start off in the direction of his office.

“We have an issues.”

“And by we you mean three, right?” They enter the space and Christian closes the door behind them and takes his seat at the desk.

He nods to confirm. “Her exes are here.”

“Your going to have to explain to me why that’s an issue. I don’t doubt there is one, but I can’t help if I don’t understand.” Christian had always been good at helping him understand exactly what he means.

“They abused her in ways that I can’t describe.” Max grimaces at the words. She’d told him the story. She’d struggled to breathe as she did so.

Christian leans forward over the desk. His gaze turned up to Max who decided not to sit. “I can’t make any promises, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you.” Max’s voices is threaded with appreciation.

~

There was still no word from Christian when practice two starts. Max and Oscar had made sure she was safe before leaving her at her garage. It was terrifying being alone knowing that they are around.

She was under the assumption she’d never have to see them again. They didn’t follow racing vigorously and they lived in separate places. she probably let herself get to comfortable in that thought.

Practice two was harder but she managed to get some good laps in. She’s much less excited about getting out of her car. Leaving the car means talking to people and that was something she didn’t feel like doing at the moment.

she coax’s herself out of the car and slips into her driver room to catch a breather. Her phone buzzes in her pocket and she prays that it’s one or both of her lovers.

It’s not. Instead all of her phone is lighting up with messages from the PR team. Her mind goes blank reading the messages over and over again.

“We need to have an emergency meeting.”

~

She tried to listen, but everything was underwater. Franz and the PR team are seated around the table looking at the posts. Then looking at her. Then back at the screen.

Her exes had not so subtly posted pictures very clearly showing that the three of them were together at some point. The captions making bold allegations against her and what she supposedly did to them.

She knows the team can see she’s trying her best. Her performance coach came to sit with her when she saw the young drivers puffy red eyes.

She didn’t want anyone to know and now it’s out for the whole world to see.

Her manager goes over things with her before the separate for the evening. She’s not to say anything about it because technically speaking it’s not their business. She can choose not to answer.

Explaining to her team her story also wasn’t fun, but they needed to know. It did ease the pain when they all believed her.

She has yet to text either of her partners. They’d probably heard about it already.

She just slips back into her room in the motorhome and pretends things are okay for the moment.

~

Oscar didn’t know what to expect when Lando came into his room without even bothering to knock. At least he has clothes on this time.

“Mate! Have you heard from Y/N?” Lando scrolls through something on his phone. Despite his lack boundaries at times, the Brit is a good friend and is fiercely protective of the three of them.

“No? Is she okay?” Oscar can clearly see the anxiety in his body language. It’s concerning after the encounter earlier today.

“You may want to find her. I was on Twitter earlier, and these pictures with her exes, I’m assuming, keep popping up. They’re saying some nasty things about her. Like she used them or something.”

Oscar snatches Lando’s phone out of his hand. The pictures are awful to look at. She looked trashed. He remembered that night all to well. It was after this he’d helped her get out.

She’d been refusing them. Trying to keep them at a distance so she could eventually just leave. They weren’t getting what they wanted so they’d spiked her drink. She called him at around four in the morning, her voice broken and confused.

He’d gone to get her. It took everything in him not go inside and confront the two who did it. Then he spent the entire night cleaning her up. She was bruise and bleeding and shaking in fear over the fact she didn’t know what happened.

Now those pictures of her that she probably has no recollection of them taking are on the internet for everyone to see. Even more was that she’s being out to be the villain.

“I’ve only ever see you angry one time, but you have that look in your eye that makes you look like your plotting a murder.”

~

Max had a smooth FP2 and is now having a friendly conversation with GP. His race engineer confirming a few things and talking about some upcoming vacation plans.

Max smiles when he sees Christian approach the two. The other, however, looks solemn. “Max, have you looked at your phone recently?”

“No, why?”

“And you’ve seen no social media?”

“I don’t really like being on it, so also no. What’s going on?” Max is a bit frustrated now that his team principal isn’t telling him something.

“I’ll explain on the way there. We’re going to the AlphaTauri garage.”

Christian tugs Max along, and the Dutch sends the engineer an apologetic smile before walking next to Christian. “Please give me some context. I have no idea what’s happening.”

"Someone leaked photos of y/n. They aren't good, and they are saying she's the aggressor."

Did Max ever think he would be suppressing a litteral growl? No. But he is. The urge to hit something is becoming incredibly difficult to suppress.

The questions enter his brain at a pace he can't keep up with. Why would they do that? Is Oscar with her? Is she going to be okay?

The walk there is a blur. His mind to be occupied to register it until they get in the conference room. He assumes Christian told him what was going to happen on the way, but he was listening.

He feels slightly better when he spots the bright papaya color of Oscar, Zak, Mark, and someone who he assumes is Oscar's PR manager.

Max's PR manager is also at the table along with y/n's team. Though, the girl herself is missing. "Where is she?"

"Her trainer is trying to coax her out of her room." Comes the familiar voice of Franz Tost. He's a stern man. He has to be when he's dealing with rookies and drivers in their early careers all the time. Yet he can see the concern on his face.

Then Max makes eye contact with Oscar. Neither of them say anything, but it's obvious they are both frustrated. "And I'm assuming now that everyone in this room knows?"

All of them stare at him with confusion. Except for Oscar, who is mentally face palming at his partners current obliviousness. "No, only Christian does. I was here as emotional support as were you." Pipes the Aussie. Max groans in defeat.

Everyone looks between them expectantly. So Max looks at Christian, who nods his head, then at Oscar, who also nods.

"The three of us are dating."

To say there were a few shocked faces is an understatment.

~

She doesn't move when her pysio opens the door. She doesn't move when she hears Oscar and Max. She doesn't move when they sit next to her, and the door closes behind, leaving the three on their own.

"I know you don't want to right now, but there are people who want to help make this better waiting for us in the conference room." Max is straightforward and yet gentle at the same time. His hand on her knee is a reminder that she's not yet a ghost.

Still, she doesn't move. "Max may have outed us to the people in there." Oscar chuckles and attempts to lighten the mood. She smiles just a tad when Max grains and mumbles something under his breath.

"Were they upset?" She questions. Voice small and cracked from her previous crying.

"Nope. Not at all." Max kisses her head and Oscar gets up off the floor.

"Originally, the plan was that the two of us would make statements since we're 'close,' but now they reckon we should just come out to the world."

"Wouldn't that make things worse?"

"Not if we show everyone how happy you make us and how you wouldn't hurt a fly."

She takes a deep breath in and let's the boys help her up.

~

It was a terribly long meeting, and they are all exhausted.

The good outcome was that they would have the full support of their teams, and everything would come out on Monday.

The bad part is that she still has to get through this weekend. It's terrifying to think about.

They coached her through every possible question she might get asked. Again, terrifying. She didn't want the world to know nothing about this, and here she is, trying to memorize answers about what happened in a vague sense.

They slept in Max's room. The fear of leaving the conference room was so bad that Christian and her trainer actually made sure everything was clear before they left. The way up to the hotel room wasn't any better.

The two males had tried to get her to sleep, but her brain refused. Her thoughts on overdrive all night and into the early hours of the morning.

She didn't go anywhere without her headphones in the next day. The fans had lost their minds. People were calling for her to be replaced.

Her team made sure they kept people away from her. Some were becoming more aggressive, and it was unerving walking around.

The Redbull team had done its best to keep her and Max in close proximity to each other. While McLaren couldn't do that, Oscar was aloud to step away if needed.

Qualifying went about as well as it normally did for her. But she was still happy with her lovers. Oscar managed to qualify third, and Max is on pole next to one of his closest friends.

She got ushered off to get her interviews out of the way early. The hope being she wouldn’t have to deal with to many questions about the photos because of her less then ideal qualifying.

Her PR manager spent more time pulling her away from the invasive reporters then she spent answering questions. All she wanted wanted was to disappear by the end of it.

Thankfully they gave her time to breath before the debrief. They didn’t ask to much of her there either.

Yuki caught up with her afterward. They talked, but she wasn't engaged. She felt guilty because she knew he was trying to distract her while she waited to go back to the safety of the hotel.

Obviously, he knows now. There was no way of not telling him. He is spared all the details, but he is also supportive and is trying to be a good friend. Something she is grateful for while navigating this weekend.

~

Finally, it’s race day. The feeling of almost being done with the weekend makes her ecstatic to get in the car.

The booing from the crowd is downright unbearable. It’s once again the reason she has headphones in. Max and Oscar had been struggling with not intervening all weekend. The only thing stopping them being their plans come Monday.

Another race with an unsatisfying result. And to top it all of the media is asking her if it’s karma. Usually her PR manager is level headed, but now she looks like she’s ready to give her own statement.

Max had won and Oscar is fourth. She wants nothing more then to celebrate the fact the Aussie among them finally has a good car. But she can’t seem to pull her head out of the water. She’s drowning and she knows it.

She ends up catching a ride with Yuki back to their hotel. The hote that she was staying on regardless because max has the same one. It was convenient for the most part.

she does not go to his room however. She goes straight to hers and collapses onto the bed. Untouched and clean since she hadn’t touched it til now.

As much as she tries to stop them, the feeling of inadequacy and guilt creep around her skin. The idea that her two lovers would have an easier time without her finds the front of her brain. It’s suffocating.

Maybe this is all karma or something similar. Maybe she’s finally getting what she deserves.

Her phone buzzes in her pocket. She doesn’t take it out.

Then a knock at the door. Then another. And another.

Enough for her to get up and open it. Her mind assuming that it’s the boys looking for her.

She tries to put a smile on her face as she swings it open. Only for her exes to be standing on the otherside

~

Osacar looks at Max worriedly when the third call goes to voicemail. She’d sent them a text hours ago when she left the track. the two of them had been held up with post team celebrations and discussions.

Now they stand in Max’s hotel room that is noticeably lacking said female. They’d checked everywhere. Even in inconvenient places like cupboards and drawers.

“Do you think she’s in a different room?” Shouts Max from a different room.

“Like mine or hers?” He clarifies.

“We’ll think about what Yuki said.” Oscar thinks back to when they’d caught the shorter driver before they were taken to the media pen. He’d mentioned that his teammate felt she was upset when Oscar had an amazing race. He’d not thought about it much then. He’d had a feeling it would be hard and he was fine with it. But now-

“She’s isolating because of the guilt.”

It was one of her worst habits. When she feels guilty, she’ll shut them out and isolate herself even if she’s done nothing wrong. The anxiety throwing her into dark places that frankly scare the two males.

The first place they check is her room since it’s in the same building. A mere three floors below them.

They decided the stairs will be faster then waiting for the lift. Oscar almost trips down the steps which would make it faster, but it would also hurt. He blames the nerves for making it harder to control his body.

When him and Max are in front of her door, Max takes out the extra key card that he has. After Lando stole his room key, they made sure to get extras for each other. Something he's so glad they decided to so this weekend.

Max takes the lead this time around, putting himself between Oscar and the door then gently pushing it open. It opens with a small creak and the first thing Oscar notices is the sound of running water accompanied by an unfamiliar female voice.

The Aussie pleads with whatever higher power will hear him that it’s not her exes. Whispered begs fall from his lips as Max continues forward.

Clothes on the floor. Furniture knocked over. The bed sheets a mess.

Oscar is grateful that her room is smaller then Max’s. Everything is more compact and visible once you get past the entry.

Max looks around a bit and the Australian can hear his breathing pick up. Then he strides over to a corner in the room that Oscar couldn’t see due to Max being in the way.

What he sees after he moves breaks him. He wants to scream in anger. Let every person in the vicinity know just how fucked up this world is.

Her body lay curled in the corner, unconscious and naked. Bruises have started forming around her neck and thighs.

It takes Max mere seconds to be down at her side. Yet Oscsr can't seem to move his body. The overwhelming anger clouding his mind makes it hard for him to decided.

Max has her in his arms, assessing the damage done. Supposedly, whoever did this is in the shower.

"She needs a hospital." Oscar snaps out of his trance. Max is trying to tell him what's wrong with her, but he can't get his mind to focus. "I think I have an idea, but you have to trust me."

Oscar shakily nods his head to show he's listening. "What's the plan?"

~

Max looks at the girl him and Oscar wrapped so gently in a blanket. Lando looks at her and the bathroom door. "Why haven't you knocked their teeth out yet."

"Legal reasons, which is why you're waiting here with Oscar for the authorities. You're to keep them here while I get her to the hospital."

Oscar looks distantly at the girl, and Max can see the pain in his face. He'd been through this once with her already. The Australian wants to see them put away so badly.

Max had originally offered himself to stay with and wait. He knows the connection between the two in this is something he doesn't fully understand. But Oscar needs the closure more then him. He needs to see this through and he made that very clear to Max.

He places a kiss on Oscar's head before leaving. "Let me know when things are tied up, okay?" He hums, but Max can still see him staring. The familiar look of white knuckles gripping so hard at nothing.

With that, Max leaves the space and makes it to his car through back entrances. The staff understands completely and helps his get through the doors.

He made a point to warn them about the authorities arriving sometime soon. Though he's not sure when.

He also thanks himself for sprinting back up to his room to grab her clothes. Well- not her clothes. Max and Oscar's clothes because she likes them better. At this point, he just wants to make her as comfortable as possible, so he can't be bothered to care. Their clothes look cute on her anyway.

He sets her in the passenger seat and speeds off to the nearest hospital. It takes a few minutes to get there. The night traffic of the weekend still steadily makes its way through.

Finally, he pulls into the emergency entrance and runs her into the waiting room where hopefully somone can help.

Something inside him snaps, however, when he's being forced away from her. The nurses are trying to speak with him, but he can't hear what their saying as he watches them take her away.

Eventually, he's calmed himself down enough to answer their questions. Specifically the ones about her safety and if he knows her. The most awkward was explaining their occupation. Until someone recognized him, and then all hell broke loose, and they had to take him somewhere private.

The wait was terrible. He had to call Christian to help him get through it. The older man told him he'd get things sorted with her team and then come to meet him.

He almost fell out of his chair when Oscar's contact lit up his screen.

"Oscar! Everything okay? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Lando and I are getting ready to head to the hospital."

Max sighs with relief, but he can't help to notice the slight edge in his voice. "Did something happen?"

"Max... he said she deserved it. They both mocked her for leaving them. I couldn't take it anymore, so I hit him." The crack in Oscar's voice made the Dutch wince. "Lando pulled me off, and the authorities grabbed him before we could continue fighting."

"It's alright now, Jack. I know that angry feeling. But you can rest now knowing that they aren't going to be around ever again."

Max can hear the little sniffles and Lando's voice in the background telling them it's time to go.

"I love you, schat."

"I love you too, Maxy."

~

Her head hurts. Her body hurts. Her eyes hurt.

The steady beeping of machines and alcohol smell is doing nothing to help. Where is she?

She cracks her eyes open just a tad. Only to be met with white walls and the soft yellow of dim lights.

She mover her head around gently. An attempt at getting her surroundings.

Hospital. She's definitely in a hospital.

Oh god.

The memories from earlier play in her mind. They way they'd said they just wanted to talk. She was stupid to believe yet not strong enough to slam the door on their faces.

They did talk at first. Kind, like how they treated her before. Like when she thought she loved them. Maybe she did at one point, and that's how they got her.

She was dumb enough to leave her water glass in front of them. Idiotic enough to turn her back for a moment.

They spiked her drink with something, and it was all over from there. It felt and looked like they were trying to stage something.

She fought so hard. They just had the advantage. Like they've aways had. Two against one who's drugged is never a fair fight.

The beeping from the machine gets faster, and she finds herself entirely too hot and nauseous to continue lying down.

She shoots upwards, startling someone from outside the door. Her voice is hoarse as she screams for a bucket or something to which she ends up spilling her guts into. Their timing was impeccable.

"Are- are Max and Oscar here?" She asks a nurse when things calm down. The nurse says something, but the girl only registers the soft 'yes' that comes out of the nurses mouth.

The tears of relief pool in her eyes when she sees them. The two are quick to her side. She can see them trying to be strong for her. But she can see the tear tracks on both and Oscar's wrapped knuckles.

The nurses leave them alone for the time being. None of them broke the silence that lay between. Not that she could say anything if she wanted. The sobs were making it difficult to speak.

"They went away. They can't hurt you anymore." It's Oscar first.

She looks at him with something mimicking confusion. "I don't understand." She switchs her gaze between them.

Max intertwines her hand with his while Oscar sits on the edge of the bed. "We found you." Explains the Dutch. They were still there and so we called the authorities. We shouldn't ever see them again."

The weight that's been sitting on her chest for almost two years is lifted. She can breathe again. The deep wounds are certainly far from healed, but just knowing that they won't be coming close to her again brings a sense of justice.

~

Apparently, she'd been heavily drugged and was on the verge of death for a couple of minutes. It's given her a new perspective that she should live life less afraid then she has been.

Who cares if people see her as a slut? Who are the to judge!

Her hospital is currently home to Lando, Oscar, and Max. The three are preparing to send out the post that they'd originally planned as something else.

But with everything that's happened, a leaked video of Oscar's fight and someone tweeting that they saw Max at the hospital, plans had to change.

They all posted the same photo of the three of them on her bed. It's a cute picture even though she looks halfway to dead. Lando claims she shouldn't say anything because he's a great photographer.

It was terrifying, to say the least. The entirety of Redbull put out a statement last night. Nothing in depth about what happened, just what people are bound to find out given time.

Lando took their phones so they can't look at anything people are saying. Completely unplugged until they are forced to go back to racing.

She looked at the boys who were smiling because she was simply awake. Something she's not sure she could've seen herself doing a couple of years ago. And even if she's going to have to work on moving forward, at least she knows that she has two boys who aren't leaving her side.

[ohbloggerimagines]

Hello! How are you? I hope your day is going swell :)

I love your possessive/protective!Rocket X Reader headcanons! The subconscious actions of him trying to keep her safe are so CUTE

Would I be able to request a oneshot of when the Guardians were out, Rocket noticed someone, or a group, staring at (Y/N), so he walked behind her, blocking their view of her ass.

Maybe he pat her hip/ass, something that was a normal thing between Rocket and (Y/N), so she just instinctively scratches behind his ears while Rocket glares or smirks at the stranger/s.

i feel like i could've done better with this one so i might end up redoing it ;;

also i refuse to belive gamora and peter are no longer together so just believe they are ! ill die on that hill

pairing: rocket raccoon x fem!reader

word count: 558

tags: gotg, rocket raccoon x reader, fem! reader, possesive rocket

“Rocky!” You shouted happily, pointing to one of the many shops within Contraxia, almost swooning over the handmade beanies being sold. “The hell you need one of those for? I can make you one! Besides, you get one every time we come here!” He grumbled, waving the shop off and making you groan and roll your eyes. 

You and the Guardians needed a break, deciding to stop off at your favorite icy planets for a few drinks. It was pretty packed that day, Rocket making sure you stayed close to him and the group in general with all the idiots and pickpocketers around. 

Passing the Iron Lotus, you watched Peter’s wandering eyes almost get slapped out of their sockets by Gamora, making you and Mantis snicker. You two were good friends, being able to have girl talk without being judged was nice. You stepped a little ahead Rocket, lightly bumping Mantis and striking up conversation about how cold it was, and all the little things you two definitely needed to buy. 

“I saw this super cute jacket last time we were here, hopefully I can find it before we go. It would look so good on you!” You conversed with her, “You think? We must find it later!” Mantis beamed, excited to hang out with you. 

Rocket’s head was on a swivel, watching every single person that walked by or even those who stood at the shops. He was not taking any chances with idiots this time. 

There were so many..men everywhere. His nerves were on edge.

Finally, the crew made it to their favorite hole in the wall bar, the Whistling Outpost. Quant enough that nothing too crazy went on, but it was never a dull vibe inside. There was a line outside the door, a guard checking everyone's name on his tablet to make sure they weren’t letting in any stowaways or general freaks. 

Peter and Gamora were in the front, behind them was Drax and Nebula, followed by you and Mantis still chattering away, with a very attached raccoon at your side. 

He could feel the eyes not only on him but on you. Rocket’s eyes scanned around slowly to find the idiot who thought it was a good idea to stare at what was his. There was a group of them, dirty, drunk, and daring, staring and pointing while making quiet suggestive comments the keen raccoon could hear. Rocket decided not to make a big deal tonight, he just wanted to relax..

Instead, he slyly turned his body to face you, blocking their view of your ass and anything else they might want to stare at, creating a barrier but not making too much of an issue. He glanced over at the group, noticing a slight change in their stature. Rocket gently tapped your ass, his paw sliding to your belt loop and hooking his finger through it to hang on to you. 

You felt his comforting touch and without missing a beat you glanced down at him and scratched lightly behind his ear, smiling at him before going back to talking Mantis’ ear off.

Rocket grinned, turning back to the drunken group, taunting them with his smirk. The look of defeat on their faces was enough for him to enjoy it.

No one got to look at you when he was around.

[starstruckbyacomet]

Will Buddie ever Be Canon?

The Everlasting Question...

#1. Will Buddie ever be canon?

No. Like @hunter470 has posted, if Buddie could be canon, it has happened many seasons ago.

#2. How if Fox didn't allow Buddie to be canon, but ABC do?

Then Buddie would be canon in Season 7, when the show was on ABC for the first time. Canon Buddie would be a better promotion material than pairing Buck with a less-known male character.

#3. They couldn't make Buddie canon in Season 7 because they needed to build up the story.

Yes, they could. This is an example of how to do it:

After Buck & Eddie had been drunk in the karaoke scene, they slept together. They woke up the next day, realized that they'd had sex with each other... and they liked it!

It worked for Chandler & Monica on Friends, it could work for Buddie.

Chandler & Monica have been close friends since high school. There had been a lot of teasings and friendly banter between them throughout the seasons. Audience were surprised when they slept together, but didn't think it was out of characters. That's why when they became a couple, it felt seamless and organic.

A similar thing could also work for Buddie. Over the years, there were scenes which could be interpreted as signs of Buck's attraction to Eddie, like 'What A Man' scene (ep 2x01) & when Maddie teased Buck about his boycrush on Eddie (ep. 2x04). They also gave a 'couple' vibe unconsciously (ep. 2x20), and the way Eddie made Buck the legal guardian for Christopher (ep. 4x14) could be interpreted as a sign of Eddie's hidden feelings for Buck.

#4. Maybe they brought Tommy back for the drama.

No, they didn't. It doesn't make sense. They only had 10 episodes in Season 7. If Tim could make Buddie canon, he wouldn't waste time on Tommy. He could use the extra time on other story arcs.

If Buck were paired with Eddie, Ep. 7x04 "Buck, Bothered, and Bewildered" didn't need to happen.

Those extra screen time could be used on Kim- Marisol-Eddie storyline, which as Tim has said, needed more time to be laid out properly.

He could move Kim storyline to the slot before the bachelor party. The story wasn't tied to other arcs. It could be put anywhere within Season 7.

The extra time could also be used to portray how the 118 members were grieving while Bobby in comatose. Bobby's comatose story was always felt too light, because there was not enough portrayal of how it affected people who loved him.

Tim could also put Eddie & Christopher's conversation about Shannon back on screen. A lot of fans agreed that the scene was too important to be left out in the cutting room.

#5. On his first date with Tommy, Buck's internal homophobia emerged to the surface. Eddie was one of the two people who made him shook that off. How it could happen if Buck & Eddie were attracted to each other?

The internal homophobia storyline could still happen. There are several options, e.g.:

One of them (probably Eddie) was in denial. The other (probably Buck) got hurt because of it. The one in denial got advice from people close to him, then apologized. They made up in the end.

They both were in denial and avoided each other. Cue to awkward meetings and funny moments. Other 118 members wondered what happened to them. Both Buck & Eddie missed each other and finally talked. They decided to come out to the rest of the team at the same time.

They both were in denial and avoided each other. Each of them came out to different people (Buck to Maddie, Eddie to Bobby) because they seeked for advice. Chimney & Hen thought Buck & Eddie were fighting and decided to stage an invertention, Chimney's style. The intervention made them talked to each other and came out to the rest of the team.

#6. Why don't they make Buddie canon?

There are several speculations:

Ryan doesn't want to play a gay Eddie.

The show doesn't want to exceed the Diversity Quota. There has been already one lasting queer couple on the show: Henren. The show is afraid to upset the general audience, if there is more than one queer couple with a lasting relationship and a happy ending on the show.

#7. If the show doesn't plan to make Buddie canon, why did Eddie talk about beards after saying that he was straight? Why was Eddie pantless when he opened his door to Buck after Buck was dumped by Tommy? Choices were made on TV shows, and those choices were clearly made by the writers.

The show deliberately chose to put those scenes on screen to BAIT BUDDIE SHIPPERS, NOT TO MAKE BUDDIE CANON. Because, if the show wanted to make Buddie canon, there was no better time than the first season of 9-1-1 on ABC.

(Part 2)

[storeecbrcod]

This is 100% self indulgent and not like what I usually write but 🤷 deal mfs

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish x F!reader

I feel like, despite how hot headed he is, John ‘Soap’ MacTavish would be the best at holding space for you and encouraging you to do things outside your comfort zone most would deem ‘normal’.

Ever since you started drinking at the very proper age of 18, you have hated drinking past a buzz. Obviously, as a kid, you make mistakes; you drink an alcohol that doesn’t agree with you, or you lose track, it happens. But even when you are much more intoxicated than you want to be, you can’t shake the anxiety of coming across as drunk. It’s been drilled into you that you’re more mature, that you’re more capable at taking care of yourself. Always the proper one, always the guardian amongst friends.

So when you come across as reluctant to drink with John, always offering to be the designated driver during outings or only having a single drink and denying any more, he’s confused. He’s always seen you act as the mature one, but also you could be so silly and fun. Drinking was all about fun, why did you hate it so much?

The conversation starts as his arms wrapped around your waist from behind as you were getting ready for a date. He pressed soft kisses across your shoulder blades, it makes you chuckle softly, looking at him through the mirror as you shut your lipstick.

“Bon,” he started, tone light and soft as his chin rested on your shoulder, stubble scratching at your bare skin there. “Why’s it you dinnae drink?”

Your brow furrows, looking down to your makeup bag and fishing out an eyebrow pencil, uncapping it and leaning towards the mirror of the bathroom slightly, starting to apply it. “What do you mean? I do drink,” you reply, continuing to stare yourself in the mirror as you map out precise lines. “We have a drink together nearly every weekend, love.”

He huffed, squeezing his arms into your midsection briefly. “I ken, but I’ve never seen ye let loose,” he pushed. “You drink enough to seem relaxed, but I feel as ye boyfriend, I deserve to see you piss drunk at least once.”

He punctuated his words with a lopsided grin, meeting your eyes through the mirror. “Level the playin’ field for the times ye’ve picked me up ten sheets to the bleedin’ wind.”

You chuckle, but it sounds forced to his ears and your own. Shame sat in a lump in your throat, twisted with anxiety. He can sense it, the way you instinctively lick your lips even as you try to not disturb your makeup, the way your eyes avoid his. He let you finish your other eyebrow before placing a hand over your own, gently making you put down your makeup. He spun you around with his hands on your waist, letting you lean against the counter behind you, looking up to him.

“You never let go,” he said again, softer this time. He laced his fingers with yours, eyes tracing where you two met for a moment before looking up to your eyes. His own were molten with the desire to understand, the need to comfort and care. “Why is that?”

You stayed silent for a few moments, still avoiding his eyes. You traced patterns in his plain shirt, watching his fingers scrape gently over your skin, feeling his warmth at his proximity. It didn’t feel suffocating as it may have with anyone else; he was gentle, not demanding. Most people you confide in about your anxiety around drinking tell you to grow up, completely ignoring the double standard of people desiring you to get blind but not be out of hand. They want the entertainment, at the expense of your embarrassment.

“Bonnie,” John cooed to you, calling your eyes back to his. He hooked a finger under your chin, trying not to disturb your setting makeup. “I’m not goin’ tae tease ya, right?”

You huff a laugh, brushing him off and looking away, making him drop his hand to your waist once more. You hesitate again, but look back to him with your lips pursed. “I hate the next day,” you say simply.

“Everyone does,” he replied with a chuckle, but it was soft. “Hangovers aren’t fun for anyone, baby.”

You chuckle with him, hitting his shoulder weakly in retaliation. “Not what I meant, Tav, and you know it,” you admonish, affection clear in your voice. You sigh, easing up again, hesitating.

“I don’t like being out of control,” you admit, shrugging and looking up to him. Instinctively, your arms cross, almost hugging yourself. His hands rub your arms up and down, comforting. “It’s not nice for a young girl to be incoherent and stumbling, yeah? Not safe, either.”

John scoffed, brow furrowing in genuine yet gentle confusion. “Ye’ve got me, bonnie,” he replied, shaking his head in mild disbelief. “And what’s it matter what other people think? You’re having fun, no?”

You pout at him dramatically, making him chuckle again. “Naw, don’t you start poutin’,” he added, poking your side and making you flinch with a yelp of protest. “I mean it. Chances are, everyone else isn’t gonna remember their own names let alone you, hun. And lord knows all I’m gonna remember is how fuckin’ sexy you are. I’ll be just as drunk as you, my love.”

You huff, pursing your lips, leaning back against the counter more. Just the thought of being anywhere near drunk around others, having seen your own fair share of other drunk people and, worse, trying to take care of them, makes you want to gag.

“It’s not… classy,” you grumble.

“Neither is being the only sober one in a club,” he replied with an eyebrow raised, making you groan. “Clubbing is about getting a bit messy, love, I dinnae ken why getting messy with everyone else is so bad. Tell me.”

“Because I’m not… messy.”

“Do they know that?”

You pause, knowing he’s got you pushed into a bit of a corner. You know rationally that nobody cares, that at the worst people pity the messier of the rest, but something about it makes your skin crawl. John can sense it, pulling you towards him for a brief hug, your chin on his shoulder.

“You’re so proper,” he muttered, the grin clear in his voice. “Wha’ the hell do you see in me? I’m no’ exactly proper, bon.”

“I like that you’re easy going,” you reply, letting him just hold you for a moment. You felt a bit… childish, for being like this. Like this fear wasn’t really founded, a phobia like the nightmares kids get scared of. Monsters under the bed and figures chasing them down the hall. A little silly, something that dissipates with age, but still scares you.

“Then let me show you how to be easy goin’,” he said quietly, letting the offer hang. He snickered after a few moments. “It gets easier the more drinks ye have, I promise.”

You laugh with him, sniffling a bit. He was always so warm, so gentle when he needed to be. He never approached your problems with the idea that it was childish, even if you thought they were. Problems were problems, no matter how big or small, insignificant or important.

“What about we start here?” He offered quietly, pulling back to look you in the eye. “We ‘ave tha’ bottle of whiskey we could put a dent in, then we can grab a taxi or somethin’. Get you properly loosened up, til it’s easier to push through.”

You roll your eyes, snickering a bit. “This feels coercive,” you say sarcastically, making him grin.

“I never claimed to be a saint, swee’heart”

You give a moment of pause, looking up at him through your lashes. You couldn’t help the small smile pulling at your lips, for once the idea of being messy seeming like a good one if it meant you and John could spill onto each other. It felt a bit romantic and intimate, if you wanted to get poetic about it.

“Ok,” you say quietly. His face lit up, making you melt as he beamed at you, eyes twinkling with pleasure simply at you giving in to his gentle coaxing. “But, I won’t promise to going out. Don’t know if I’ll even want to.”

“Fine by me, bonnie,” he replied, his hands trailing down to your ass and grabbing a fistful of it cheekily, a glint in his eye. “Either way, I’ll be barkin’ up your tree all night.”

You huff in mock irritation, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. He smiles against your lips, sending a thrill of warmth down your spine, letting it break down the anxiety.

“Careful, MacTavish. I’m getting all pretty for you.”

“Then finish your face,” he all but purred, gently turning you back around as you giggled, yelping again as he pinned you against the counter with his hips, making you laugh more. He leaned into your ear, looking to your eyes through the mirror heatedly and forcing you to bite your lip to suppress another noise. “And I’ll get the drinks pourin’ for your pretty little arse.”

A/N: once again, self indulgent in light of getting pretty fucked up and 100% regretting it even though no one got hurt or upset on the night ✌️ RIP my pride and ego ig

[luminouslywriting]

Ok so I saw this post and like it would be really cute bob x guardian angel taking care of them when there depressed or anxious or whatever like I neeeed that

Nonny darling, this was just beautiful and I'm happy to do this for you :) Reminder that my requests are open and I don't mind spam one bit haha!

Cut for length, more under the cut, and please note that for this, I went with an actual guardian angel reader:

Dick Winters:

-You know that scene when he’s charging up the hill alone and starts shooting at the Nazis and they’re too stunned to shoot back until the other men arrive? Yeah, this is your time to shine as his Guardian Angel. -It’s one of the most dangerous times for him and when he first really catches sight of you and the way you’re protecting him. -The next time he feels your presence is when he’s alone in Paris and struggling with everything he’s been through. -A gentle hug from you and soft conversation makes all the difference.

Lewis Nixon:

-This gif above here?? Where Nix nearly gets shot? Yeah, you’re the one deflecting that bullet. -He doesn’t think much of it and thinks he’s hallucinating since he’s so drunk most of the time. But there you are, faithfully following after him and ensuring he doesn’t fall to his death or drink too much. -Lew definitely starts having conversations with you and thinks you’re a figment of his imagination for a hot minute. -Right up until he gets notice of the divorce and you’re there helping him through it….and he gets much better after that.

Ronald Speirs:

-Babe, you’ve got a full time job and he is fully aware of that and ready to make you earn your wings haha. -Literally do you even get rest?? -It isn’t until after Bastogne and Foy that he actually gets to talk with you and realizes he could benefit from chilling out a little bit. -And yes, he does have a small crush on you haha.

Buck Compton:

-Literally doesn’t realize you’re there until he leaves Bastogne?? -At which point, your soothing words and kindness in caring for him has him floored and trying to make sense of everything. -He definitely thinks he’s suffered some sort of mental break but you’re just his angel and there to help him. -Your encouragement and care help him get much better and want to return to the boys in episode 10!

Carwood Lipton:

-First becomes aware of you when he nearly gets blown up….and tries really hard to not have to see you again. -He does offer small little thanks at nighttime for your efforts and for helping him stay alive another day. -Starts asking questions and talking to you after Bastogne and Foy because he’s curious. -Lowkey knows what he wants in a partner after you cuddle with him when he has pneumonia haha.

Joe Liebgott:

-Again, someone who is putting you to the test….and enjoys seeing you roll up to help him out a bit. -Probably argues that he doesn’t need a guardian angel?? Yeah that’s a lie and you both know it. -Breaks down in your arms after he translates in the camps and it’s an emotional thing

-Probably prays and thanks God for you being his guardian angel

Donald Malarkey:

-Has a really rough time of things during Bastogne and this is when you arrive to help comfort him

-He thinks you’re the grim reaper or something but quickly grows to like you and the way you help care for him and protect him

-Honestly talks to you a lot during Hagenau and asks questions. -Sneaks a hug every now and then when he thinks he can get away with it.

Eugene Roe:

-How else would this man be so untouched and unharmed?? -He’s fully aware of your job and probably talks to you every chance that he gets. Your jobs are pretty similar anyway and there’s a good reliance on you. -But during Bastogne? Oh, you’ve got your work cut out for you and it’s an emotional time. He definitely cries in your arms. -Probably names one of his future children after you tbh

Bill Guarnere:

-Also thinks he doesn’t need one until he does?? He has a lot of near misses and ends up at the hospital a few different times. -You warn him not to go on the lam and to just stay in the hospital

-Does not appreciate you until you’re the sole reason why he doesn’t die in Bastogne…and then he’s real repentant and relies on you for recovery

-Literally so grateful and adored you…he tries to talk to you a lot.

Joe Toye:

-A softie who has been aware of your presence since he started doing stupid stuff in high school. -Even more grateful for you during the war and expresses so much gratitude. -Would not have made it out of Bastogne if you hadn’t been encouraging him to keep moving and to try and get up. -You’re a major part of his recovery after the war.

George Luz:

-First becomes aware of you during Toccoa when he nearly breaks a bone and you help him?? -He’s SHOOKETH and hitting on you a ton haha

-And during Bastogne?? He knows that he only makes it through all of that because of you. And he definitely cries in your arms after the dud doesn’t go off. -Probably is a lot softer and appreciates you more after the war.

[spacesapphi]

"Moving Forward Spiraling Downward Chapter 21- A Shoulder to Lean On"

Woah this one's gonna be a fairly farmer centric chapter. Felt it was time to let the readers know a bit more about them, especially given what I have planned for the next few chapters. Very happy to show you all what's coming in ch23 especially.

CW's in this chapter (there's a few)- Mentions of ableism and transphobia in the past, as well as mentions of harrassment and bullying in the past

Summary: As Winter Star rolls back around, the town seems to be thriving, basking in the completion of the Community Center and the strengthening of the town spirit. However, one villager seems to be struggling, and it's not Shane, rather a certain farmer. Shane finds himself being the shoulder to lean on for a change, learning more about their past, their struggles, and what has led them to this very moment.

AO3 Version Here

Tumblr Version below the cut

For the first time in decades, the Community Center was full of light and warmth for Winter Star. The once dark and dismal place was now decorated brightly, lights hung around its exterior, the rooms inside dressed in ribbons and bows. Sparkly garlands hung over the windows, wreaths upon every door. An enormous tree stood tall in the middle of the room, decorated lovingly by each and every member of the community. Soft music and the crackling of the fireplace wafted through the halls, the sounds of laughter and conversation carried over the air as the town celebrated. It was beautiful, it was perfect. 

In previous celebrations, Shane found himself being quite the wallflower. One would find him holed away in the corner, shrunken into himself, avoiding the gaze of anyone who so much as walked past him. This year however, he was determined to be different, to get himself out there. He was still no life of the party, though honestly, no one could out-do or even match someone like Emily in that regard. But he was happier, chattier. He was actually enjoying himself. He hadn’t been able to say that for so long. There was still an undeniable air of sadness about him on many days, that was for sure. Depression didn’t just disappear overnight, or fully go away. But for once, he allowed his family and friends to help him, to support him through it, and that gave him the peace he needed to get through the day. And today, he was thriving.

Sitting at a festively decorated table, half-drunk coffee in hand, Shane watched on as Jas and Vincent played near the tree. The pair were showing off their presents to each other with so much glee in their hearts and on their faces, whispering about how excited they were for Santa to come this week. It made him happy to see them so happy, especially Jas. After all that had happened this year, all the strife and struggle, it was relieving that she could still find joy in the simplest little things. It gave him peace, and made him think that perhaps he was doing this right, that all this work towards improvement was worth it. Perhaps he was a good guardian, a good father, even. What a wonderful feeling it was to have. 

“Shaaaane! There you are~!” a familiar sing-song voice chirped out, growing closer to him with each passing second. He looked to his side to see Emily flouncing her way over to the table, throwing herself into the chair next to him with such gusto it nearly tipped onto its side. She was bursting with energy as always, her big pink eyes sparkling bright, her smile stretched as far as it could go. As always, she was such a ray of sunshine. Even in the dead of Winter she could light up a room, her bright smile and cheery disposition entirely contagious. 

“Sooooo what did you get this year?” she asked, awaiting his answer with glee. Shane simply shrugged in response, taking a quick swig from his glass, “Dunno, my gifter hasn’t shown up yet. Just waitin fo- what are you doing.”

Emily had leaned her head in so close she was just mere centimeters away from his face, staring at him intensely. Shane could feel himself grow the slightest bit nervous, leaning further back in his chair as she grew closer. What the hell was she doing? Without warning, her hands clasped his shoulders, her soft fingers squeezing tight. Shane was utterly, hopelessly confused, “What… are you doing, Em?” he repeated.

“Oh!  Sorry, it’s just-” Emily mused wistfully, staring at him with the softest smile, “There’s something about your aura,”

“My aura?”

“Mm-hm!” Emily confirmed. She  looked deep into his eyes, seeing them shining like the brightest emeralds, full of life and joy, “It used to be so sad, so gray and cold… but now there’s so many pinks and yellows, like a beautiful sunset!”

As always, Shane had no idea what the hell Emily was talking about. But he supposed an aura of pinks and yellows was a good thing. Emily sure was acting that way, and those were supposed to be ‘happy’ colors, right? He forced a sheepish smile onto his face in response, “Heh… thanks, I guess?”

“Of course!” she chirped, “I’m just… really happy to see you happy. I’m happy you’re here, with all of us,”

She motioned out towards the crowd in the Community Center, to all of their friends and family chatting the night away happily. Marnie and Pam were huddled over by the tree with all the older ladies, likely gossipping as their little group loved to do. Couples huddled together like lovebirds, talking the night away and laughing so loud their voices echoed off the walls. The families seemed to be enjoying themselves as well, most of all the Neilsons. Shane could see Sam standing with his family, happier than he had ever seen him now that the kid's father had returned. Kent had surprised them all with an early return from deployment just in time for the holidays, a wonderful surprise that brought much joy to the small community. Shane noted with amusement that Sam looked just like the man too, just much younger, much happier and carefree.

Each and every person was enraptured with joy, embodying the spirit of Winter Star and all it stood for. Shane felt like he could see it clearly now for the first time. For so long his mind had been clouded with anger and sadness, keeping him from seeing all the good around him. But now, with time and effort, he was finally able to see it. He was finally able to see the good in his community, to actually be a part of it. It made him feel warm, lighter than he had felt in his entire adult life. In his heart he felt like a young boy again, unburdened by the horrors of life and tragedy. He felt free. 

“All of this… I didn’t think I’d see the town like this again,” Emily muttered,leaning her head on her friend's shoulder, “I missed it…”

“Yeah…” Shane agreed, “So did I,”

He was broken from his thoughts by the loud sound of someone clearing their throat, obviously trying to get his attention. Whipping his head around, he felt his face grow white at the sight of Elliott standing just behind him, looking down at him with an expression he just couldn’t make heads or tails of. It was so static, so flat and morose. Not miserable, but not exactly excited to see him either. Their last interaction hadn’t gone quite well either, leading a worrying pang to stab at his heart. 

Elliott either didn’t notice his worry or didn’t care, completely ignoring the look on Shane’s face as he outstretched a hand, holding out a thin, festive envelope for him to grab. He frowned, squinting at the envelope and then back up at Elliott, “Is this…?”

“Your Winter Star present,” Elliott stated ever so matter-of-factly, “It seems fate destined that I would be your gifter this year,”

Shane nodded slowly, anxiously plucking the envelope from his hands. He knew well that Elliott didn’t like him, not that he couldn’t entirely blame the man. Shane knew he’d earned that anger, as much as he wished he could make amends already. But Elliott didn’t seem very interested in amends just yet, or even talking for that matter. It made Shane worry about what would be inside the envelope. It could be something awful, something loathsome. His mind raced with every possibility as he slowly ripped it open, his mind drawing a blank when he saw what was truly inside- two shiny front row tickets for a Tunnelers game in the upcoming season. His eyes grew wide, an excitement rising within him.

“This is… holy shit…” he breathed out, almost in disbelief. Elliott curtly nodded in response, his face still staying firm, “It was Möhle’s idea. They helped me get them, you know,”

“Thank you, this is-... damn,” Shane muttered, rubbing the glossy paper beneath his fingertips. These had to be pricey, even the worst seats in that stadium were enough to throw someone into debt. He could hardly believe his luck, feeling like he’d wake up from a crazy dream any moment. It was such a kind gesture from Elliott, and so thoughtful of Möhle to even consider such a present. He looked back up and swiveled his head to scan the room, frowning at a realization, “Speakin’ of… where are they?”

“Ah…” Elliott mused, his tone pitiful, “Home, I believe. They didn’t want to come,”

“Poor thing…” Emily frowned, “Is everything okay? I thought they loved Winter Star,”

Elliott took a seat beside them, drumming his fingertips on the table as he spoke, “Holiday’s have been… difficult for them as of late. It’s not my story to tell, but they have been struggling…”

“Do you think they’ll still show up? Even for a bit?” Shane questioned, a glum tone to his voice. He looked at the messily wrapped gift sitting by his placemat, the one specifically for Möhle. He’d been assigned as their gifter this year, and he had tried to make his gift especially special. It had taken weeks of work to complete, and much collaboration, a complete labor of love. He’d been so excited to see them and finally hand it over, feeling giddy over the idea all morning. But now, he could feel his heart sink, a disappointment clouding his mind. 

“I don’t believe so, no. This situation, it’s…” Elliott paused for a moment. He looked past Shane to Emily, giving her a look that told her he needed to speak to the man alone. Nodding in silent understanding, Emily left her spot, leaving the pair on their lonesome. Elliott pursed his lips for a moment as he ruminated on the conversation, finding the right words he wanted to say.

“I’ve tried to help them, but I don’t think it’s getting through. They seem so angry,” he explained, “And I was thinking, perhaps they needed someone else to talk to,”

“Like… me?”

“Precisely. I don’t know what it is about you, Shane, but Möhle likes you… very much. I’ve heard your name so many times in the past month it doesn’t even feel like a word anymore.” he scoffed, throwing a hand up for emphasis, “If I can’t help them, I think you might be just the thing they need.”

“Are you sure? I don’t know if they’re still mad at me about… you know what I mean,” Shane couldn’t bring himself to say the words, but the point got across all the same. Elliott sighed, almost in disappointment, “Trust me, they aren’t. You know they’re a forgiving soul. I don’t think they could ever stay angry at you for long,”

That much was true. Möhle could find it in their heart to forgive most who wronged them. It took time, as all things did, but the farmer just didn’t love to hold a grudge. It was easier to love than to be angry in their eyes. Shane admired that about them, wished he could be the same way. But if something was making them this angry to the point they couldn’t enjoy one of their favorite events, something had to be terribly wrong, and he had a morbid curiosity to know what it was. 

He picked up the gift and held it tight in his hands, looking back to the man in front of him with confidence in his expression, “I’ll go talk to them… And thanks again,  this was really-... it was nice,”

“Don’t mention it,” Elliott sighed, allowing himself the privilege of the slightest smile, “And Shane… I know I must have come across harsh lately, and you did deserve it. But I know now that you’re important to them. I don’t believe I understand it, but I try to trust their judgement… Perhaps you’re not as bad as I first believed,”

“Thanks…” Shane mumbled. It wasn’t the best of compliments, but he thought it might be the best he’d get from Elliott, at least for now. Maybe there was a chance at the two of them finally getting along after all. But that wasn’t what was important right now. What was important was getting this gift to his dear friend, and finding out what on Earth made them miss an event they loved so dearly. 

As he made his way towards the farm, he remembered the last Winter Star they shared, just before Möhle had left town. It was the last year the community center was opened too, the building falling into disrepair just the next Summer. But that last celebration was something special. Shane thought it may have been one of the happiest years of his life, and the last time he truly saw that old version of Möhle. They were such a different person all that time ago. They were bursting with that unending energy, that grin with the little gap between their teeth, their boundless joy… He hadn’t seen it in so long, not even now that they were back home. Now that he thought about it, he realized just how much he missed their joy, how much he missed them. 

He had wondered for the longest time what had made them change the way they did. Just like him, they were entirely different from their happier, younger self now. Möhle had once told him “The city changes you”, and he couldn’t agree more. The city indeed changed the both of them, molded the pair into nearly unrecognizable shells of their former selves. Something had happened to crush their souls, warp them into entirely new people. Was this why they refused to show up to Winter Star? Had something happened? His curiosity grew morbid as he got closer to the farmhouse, trudging through the icy winds and deep snow to the farmers front door. Giving it a harsh and solid knock, he took a step back to wait ever-so impatiently. 

“Yoba-damnit can they get to the door already?!” Shane thought to himself. He was practically frozen solid now, shivering from the barrage of wind on his face and the snow melting into his clothes. Why the hell did Winter have to get so harsh here? Why couldn’t Pelican town be somewhere warmer, somewhere without this freezing cold hell? He grumbled to himself about the frigidness of the valley, so far off in his own rant he hadn’t realized the door was already open. 

“What are you doing here, Shane?”

He shot his head up to see Möhle in the doorway, leaning against it with the most pitiful, dull look on their face. They had been dressed for the celebration as if they had planned to go to the community center, but just… didn’t. The fancy festive sweater they wore suddenly seemed much sadder, matching the gloom upon their face. Their eyes were drooped, long eyelashes hooding those sad, glossy pupils. Red curls hung in front of their face, casting a shadow over their sullen features. They looked miserable, more miserable than Shane had ever seen them in his life. 

He held up their present, trying his best to speak through his chattering teeth, “I have somethin’ for you,” he breathed out, watching a cloud puff in the air as he spoke. Möhle sighed and reached for his arm, pulling him up into the house with ease, “Yoba, you’re going to freeze to death, come on.”

Stepping through the door, Shane could immediately feel the warmth envelope him like the coziest blanket, his numb, frozen limbs defrosting in mere moments thanks to the roaring fireplace. This was nice, it felt cozy and safe. Möhle shook the snow from their boots as they hit the lights, allowing Shane to see the inside of the dim, dismal home much more clearly.

The room slowly grew brighter, revealing the grand interior of the old farmhouse. Shane had no idea someone could be a bigger fan of Winter Star than his aunt until now, but it seemed Möhle had her beat. Every inch of the house was covered in glistening decorations. Stars in the windows, candles on every surface, a tree hanging from the ceiling that was sparkling with the gaudiest ornaments; it was perhaps the most elaborate Winter Star setup he’d seen in his entire life. The only thing in the home not decorated beyond belief was the kitchen table. It was far more understated, bearing a simple red tablecloth and place-settings, a poinsettia centerpiece in the middle of it all. A wonderful smell wafted through the kitchen, cookers sitting on the counters with something Shane supposed was wonderful inside. 

“Why aren't you at the Community Center? Everyone else is,” Möhle grumbled, flopping back into the green velvet sofa just by the fireplace. Shane shrugged in response, slowly striding to follow and sit beside them, “You weren't there… Are you okay?”

“... It's-” Möhle closed their eyes and exhaled deeply, “It's my mom. She's so-”

They cut themself off, obviously holding back a long, angry tangent that had been building for some time. Tears bit at the corners of their eyes, threatening to spill over, “She refuses to come here… it was like pullin’ teeth even gettin’ her to pick up the damn phone. And yet again, she cancels at the last second!” They huffed, twisting their face in frustration, “It’s been years since we last had a proper conversation… She finally promised to come and I got the whole house ready and then she just… didn’t show up.”

That didn't sound like her, not in the slightest. Beth had been a wonderful mother as far as Shane knew. He remembered back to his youth, back to a time that was far simpler for everyone. Möhle’s mother always had an air of sadness about her, but she was undeniably a good mother, one that tried her best to stay happy and dote on her family. She encouraged self expression, she was understanding, and most of all, loving. And Möhle loved her all the same. Shane couldn’t begin to imagine a world where the two of them weren’t on good terms, or why. 

“What happened?” Shane held up a hand immediately, almost in defense, “If you’re comfortable sayin’...”

“A lot. When Grandpa died she just… changed,” Möhle grumbled, crossing their arms across their chest, “It’s like she’s not even all there. She hardly talks, she barely pays attention to me, or anyone, really… and then she acts like she can fix it with gifts,”

They motioned to a partially opened shipping box on the coffee table, a modest stack of store bought spiral journals sitting inside. There was no personalization, no wrapping paper or bows. Only the journals, nothing more. The gift seemed less genuine, less thoughtful than one would expect from a mother, especially theirs. Möhle especially thought so. It was once again another gift pitifully trying to take the place of the connection Möhle so desperately needed. They did love those gifts, cherished them even, but they needed their mother, not another set of journals. They wished she could see that.

“We had a falling out a few years ago, when I moved out,” Möhle explained, reminiscing back to a far worse time, “There was an argument about how she wasn’t there for me, about how it’s changed everything… But she didn’t want to hear it, so we just… stopped talking,”

They reminisced to that old argument, how awful it had been that day. Möhle had always wished to hear more than one or two words out of their mother since she’d begun to act that way, but they didn’t want this. They didn’t want the anger, the lashing out. All they wanted was to be protected, to see the person who used to show so much love come back. But that version of her died a long, long time ago. As soon as grandpa died Beth had become a shell of the person she was, leaving Möhle to feel lonely and neglected. They hoped that she would change, that she would go back to the woman she used to be. And as optimistic as they were, Möhle kept getting their hopes up, only to feel them crashing down once again. And now, they were beginning to learn to not hope for anything at all.

“You want to see the worst part?”, They pulled out a small slip of paper from the box, handing it over to Shane with reluctance, “Here, look at this. She sent it with the box,”

Shane scanned over the letter, reading over Beth’s pitiful excuses for missing out yet again, the ramblings of how she’d make it up to them. He felt his heart jump when he saw a certain name on the paper, one he had honestly forgotten about until this very moment. Frowning, he turned to Möhle in concern, “Wait, isn’t this your old name? I thought your mom was supportive of you,”

Möhle didn’t respond, refusing to even look in Shanes direction. Their expression darkened, an obvious air of gloom filling their mind. Shane sat the paper down in the space between them, changing his tone to be softer, “Does this have to do with why you act so different?”

“... It’s like I told you before. The city changes you. “ they muttered, “Grampleton was nothin’ like Pelican Town. People were mean, they were awful.”

Möhle wrapped their arms around themself, holding themself tight like a comforting hug, “People didn’t understand me, especially other kids. People here just accepted me being autistic as some ‘quirk’, but… it was seen as a nuisance there. They thought I was annoying and I guess they decided I should be punished for it. I went home plenty of times with black eyes and bruises, and-” they stopped, feeling far too upset even just remembering all that had happened so long ago.

Shane put a hand on theirs, “You don’t have to tell me this,” he knew all too well what it felt like to open up about hardships you’d rather forget, the frustration so strong it made you feel lightheaded. He didn’t want his friend to have to feel that all-too familiar feeling too.

Möhle shook their head, “It’s okay, really… I just really haven’t told anyone else this besides Elliott, y’know?” they gave him a weak smile for just a moment before looking back off into space, forlorn and sullen, “It was already bad in other ways… People didn’t respect my identity. They kept calling me a girl, called me some things I’d prefer not to repeat, too… And one day, someone somehow found out my deadname and they spread it around. I think I just gave up after that. They didn’t want ‘Möhle’. They wanted a girl who was quiet and ‘normal’, one that didn’t make a scene wherever she went. I just wanted everything to stop; the words, the harassment, the beatdowns… so I became the girl they wanted. I stopped telling people about my interests, I got quieter… and I told everyone to just start calling me that name again. It was hard, so hard… but it was easier than being me,”

Their vision blurred as tears finally bubbled over. The wound had been violently reopened, and oh how embarrassed they felt discussing it. They felt like such a baby for crying, so mortified to even tell Shane. They just couldn’t handle it, “My mom didn’t even notice, not until it got too bad to ignore. She was so closed off she didn’t even see it. And when she did, that’s when the gifts started. She just… bombarded me with them. We never talked about how I felt going through it, never got help. I would just get books, or a necklace, then my snake… But I needed her, and I didn’t get that,” they sighed, wiping their tears as they looked back to Shane, “I must sound really ungrateful though, huh?”

“No… no, Mö, it’s-” Shane blinked in disbelief for a moment, “Fuck, that’s a lot… and she just didn’t do anything about it?”

“Never did,” Möhle affirmed, “So I moved out as soon as I could afford it, we’ve only talked a few times since. I don’t think she even knows I go by Möhle again.”

“I thought the city would be better with all that, honestly,” Shane mused sadly, “I mean, we got fuckin’ lucky here, everyone was nice about it. Your mom accepted you, my aunt helped choose my new name, you remember…” he stopped for a moment, fidgeting with the edge of his sweater’s sleeve, “I never had to deal with anything like that… I’m sorry you did,”

“Not your fault,” Möhle grumbled. They leaned back into the couch, resting their head against the back cushion and turning to face Shane, “Thank you though… for letting me tell you. I know it’s a lot to deal with, ‘specially around a holiday. No one wants to hear a sob story when you’re supposed to be celebrating,”

“You always listened to me,” he reminded them, “You were there for me, even when I didn’t deserve it. Of course I’m gonna listen.”

His face tinted pink for just a moment, “Yoba, I hate talkin’ about feelin’s but… I know I can be an asshole. I am an asshole. And I don’t know how to express myself properly, but I do care. I don’t say it enough, but I do,” He smiled sheepishly, feeling his heart beat fast from nervousness, “You’re… really cool. I wish I had been nicer to you when you came back, ‘specially knowin’ what I know now. I don’t remember what I said that night, just that I was drunk off my ass… but I know I was probably a total dick…”

He looked them right in the face, feeling an overwhelming weight of guilt press upon his chest at the sight of their left eye. The iris was warped and clouded over, a permanent reminder of the worst mistake he ever made in his life, “And I know I hurt you too, and I can’t fix it either. But I’ll do everything I can to even try and make it right, promise,”

Möhle laughed bitterly, a wry smile upon their face, “Crazy as it sounds, it wouldn’t be the worst thing that ever happened to me… But thank you…” They looked him in the face, those sad eyes seemingly just a bit happier, “I’m glad you’re here,”

“I’m glad you let me in,” Shane smiled in response, feeling just a bit lighter at the sentiment. He felt something sharp prick at the skin of his hand, looking down to see the present he had brought sitting just at his side.

“Shit, I forgot-” Shane reached to his side, fumbling for the present. It was crumpled even further, the paper ripped near the corners. It looked absolutely abysmal, and Shane regretted that his wrapping skills were this bad, very much worsened by the crumpling. He reluctantly handed it over to them, a bashful blush on his face, “I’m your gifter this year, I guess… I wanted to make sure you got it in time,”

Möhle gingerly took the present in their hands, seemingly not caring all that much about the quality of the wrapping. Peeling it away from the item inside, they found a grand, leatherbound journal, one of the prettiest they’d seen. Symbols of flora and fauna were etched into the cover, a masterfully crafted piece of work they couldn’t help but find magnificent. The papers inside, much like the cover, were handcrafted as well. Bumps and ridges along the edges showed its imperfections, indicative of work by human hand, just as Möhle adored. Shane could see a smile pull at the corners of their mouth, a sparkle forming in their eye as they ran their fingers across the surface. 

“Where did you get this?” they asked, “It’s… perfect, I don’t think I’ve gotten somethin’ this nice in… forever, really,”

Shane shrugged, “There’s this artist living in the cottage by our house and I've been workin’ with her to get this made since I got the letter about our gift assignments. I had no damn clue makin’ paper was gonna be that hard, but… I’m glad I helped,”

The softest laugh escaped Möhles throat, their smile widening further, “You’re so sweet, you know that?”

“Like hell I am,” Shane scoffed, trying to hide the smallest tint of blush spreading on his face, “I mean I appreciate it, but we all know I’m a bitter ass,”

“I mean it… You’re a great guy, really. You have your moments, yeah, but you’re nicer than you give yourself credit for,” Möhle mused, finally smiling with so much warmth and love, “I’m really glad I got to know you again,” 

“You know what? Me too,” Shane returned the smile, feeling just a bit more confident in himself, “And I was thinkin’… maybe we can get to know each other more? Like, spendin’ more time together, I mean,”

“Yeah? What did you have in mind?”

Shane pulled out the envelope from Elliott, fishing one of the tickets from its confines and holding it out to Möhle, “Got these as my gift, have enough to take someone with me. The game’s not ‘till later in Spring, but… do you want to go?”

“You mean it?” Möhle’s eyes lit up, an excitement in their heart, “Shit, I haven’t done anything with gridball in years, but… yeah! I’ll go!”

“It’s a date then!” Shane chimed, immediately feeling a pit form in his stomach upon realizing his wording. He held up a hand defensively, suddenly incredibly flustered, “Not a date, I meant-”

“Oh, it’s-”

“You know what I meant right? Just a thing as… as friends, not like.. that-” Shane felt ready to pass out from embarrassment, seeing an awkward expression form on Möhle’s face. The two stared at each other in a tense silence, feeling a morbid humiliation sink in, neither knowing how to fix it. Shane sighed and shook his head, “I just mean… It sounds good. I’m excited, you know?”

“Yeah…” Möhle mumbled, looking back down at the ticket fondly, “Me too,” 

The grand clock along the wall chimed and echoed loudly as the hour changed, the night beginning to roll in. Neither of them had realized just how long they’d sat there during their chat, the time completely passing them by. Shane rose from his seat, shoving his hands deep in his pockets, “Guess that means I should get going,”

Möhle seemed disappointed, wanting to protest. They wanted to ask him to stay, to have their own little celebration on their lonesome in the farmhouse. But they knew well that just like themself, he had a farm to go home to and tend to. And unlike Möhle, he had a family there too. They swallowed their desire and gave him a smile, standing up by his side, “I’ll show you out then.”

On the way back to the door, something caught Shane’s eye, something rather large that he was surprised to not have noticed on the way in. A large tank full of plants and branches sat along the wall, a brown and white snake wrapped around a branch closest to the heat lamp on top. Shane stopped in his tracks to peer into the tank, “Is this that snake you were talking about?”

“Oh that’s Tulip!” Möhle rushed to Shane’s side, staring down at the tank with glee, “She’s a little hognose. Cute, right?”

“Is she friendly?” Shane asked, a nervousness on his face as Möhle reached their hand in to let the creature slither up their arm. He was a self proclaimed animal lover, but that love seemed to stop and be replaced with fear when it came to reptiles. Möhle, however, adored each and every little creature that existed on the planet. They had the fondest look upon their face as they looked at Tulip, a twinkle in their eye as they held her close, “Yeah, she doesn’t bite! Even if she did, she’s only a little venomous.”

“Only a little?!” 

“Yeah, it’s like a bee sting, no big deal,” Möhle explained nonchalantly. They outstretched their arm, allowing Tulip to get even closer to Shane, her beady little eyes staring him down, “Wanna hold her?”

 He took a cautious step back, trying his best to keep a respectful smile on his face. Möhle seemed to catch the hint, frowning for just a moment before placing Tulip safely back in her enclosure. They watched her slither back up the branch she loved to perch on, almost in a trance as they stared into the tank.

“You know… People get scared of snakes ‘n think they’re evil, but they’re really just sweethearts if you get to know ‘em,” they smiled softly, placing a hand against the glass of the tank, “People just don’t understand them, mistreat them without even taking a moment to try… think that’s why I like ‘em so much. They’re kind of like me,”

Shane looked back to the little snake, suddenly feeling just a bit less apprehensive about her presence. With that thought in mind he was able to look at her with a newer perspective, hoping to see her just the way Möhle did. They could be such a kind and thoughtful soul, seeing the beauty in things others couldn’t. They saw the beauty in him too, as much as he didn’t get it. He had a hard time articulating himself, a hard time speaking his mind, and he wished he could express just how grateful he was to have them in his life. He wished Möhle knew how much their support meant to him. 

“You know…” he started, “I remember someone tellin’ me once that snakes can be symbols for protection and strength, somethin’ like that… Maybe that’s why your mom got her for you,”

Möhle’s smile dropped at the mention of Beth, quickly reappearing as they thought on his words for just a moment longer, “Yeah… maybe,” they stood back upright, feeling an idea form in their mind, “Y’know, before you go… do you want to do somethin’ to celebrate? Just us two. It’d be a shame to cut it short, you know?"

“That… sounds good, actually,” Shane agreed. He saw his friends face break out into a smile, watching as they turned on their heel and made towards the kitchen, “Come on then! Don’t want all the food to go to waste,”

As their dinner and the evening rolled on, the pair found themselves relishing in the others company. Möhle especially found themself much happier, much more lively than they’d been that morning. What had started as such a sad and bleak day for them had turned into one full of joy and connection. The house was echoing with laughter, the pair sharing funny anecdotes and stories from over the past year, talking about the future they looked forward to. Music played as they spoke and ate, immersing them in overwhelming cheer that both of them dearly needed.

All of the celebration and the buzz in their veins gave Möhle a bold idea, one that excited them ever so much. They suddenly stood from their seat at the table, reaching out to pull a very confused and surprised Shane up with them. He raised a brow and held a smirk on his face, amused yet terribly confused, “What are you doing?” 

“What’s the point of calling this a celebration if there’s no dancin’?”

“Yoba, you know I’ve got two left feet...”

“Come onnnn,” Möhle drew out, holding out a hand to him, “Not like anyone’s watchin’ us,”

Shane looked down at their hand, thinking long and well for a moment. Why the hell not? It was just like they said, after all. It was just the two of them, what could it hurt? He slowly reached out his own hand to take theirs, surprised as Möhle immediately pulled him in tight. He nervously squeezed the hand they held, wrapping his free arm around their waist as he tried to manage his footing. After a few moments of awkward shuffling and stifled laughter, the pair began to move along to the music playing on the kitchen’s radio, trying their best to dance in tandem with the other. As terrible of a dancer as Shane was, he found Möhle was even worse. The two kept stumbling and stepping on the other's foot, blushing in embarrassment and mumbling the occasional apology as they danced through the room. As embarrassing as it was, the pair found joy in their little waltz. The awkward missteps, the push and pull, the lack of knowledge on what move to make next; it all served to amuse them, filling their hearts with the lightest joy they had ever felt. 

It took them a few minutes before they could bear to even look the other in the eye, shy smiles upon their faces as they stared at the other. Möhle couldn’t help but notice how shiny Shane’s eyes seemed, how happy his complexion was. They hadn’t seen this joy in him since the pair had parted ways all those years ago, and they certainly never expected to see him look that way towards them. It wasn’t unwelcome though. Far from it, actually. To know that he looked upon them in such a way made them feel like the most special person in the valley. Dancing with him in this very moment made their sadness wash clean away. How lucky they felt to have this moment with their friend.

There was just one tiny little problem; Möhle wasn’t sure they saw him as just a ‘friend’ any longer. 

[themultifandomgal]

From 2010- Home

Part 41

2014

Being back home has been like a breath of fresh air. I got to go to Alex’s grave and lay some flower. Emma and I have hung out everyday since I got to my dads. Liam and I have also spoken everyday and thinks have been good. Today Emma and I have been hanging out in my old room. I watch her pick up a photo from when we were in year 11

“God our lives are so different now aren’t they?” She asks. I get off my bed and walk over to her, resting my head on her shoulder

“Yeah. I know this is going to sound ungrateful, but sometimes I wish we could go back to before I auditioned.I probably wouldn’t be on antidepressants for anxiety, I would be able to leave my house without being worried that I will bump into press, I wouldn’t be in the relationship I’m in now and Alex would still be alive”

“YN” Emma sighs “Alex wasn’t your fault. It was the stupid drunk driver and yes ok the press suck, but if you never auditioned you wouldn’t have met 5 new best friends, you would probably be with James still while he’s in the closet cheating on you. Everything happens for a reason. I truly believe Alex is with you everywhere you go, your guardian angel. How’s therapy going?”

“Not great. I don’t know how to say what I’m feeling”

“Have you thought about writing music?” Emma turns to face me. I shake my head no “I think you should give it a go. Might help you through your feelings”

“I’m not much of a writer. Remember I barley passed English” I chuckle thinking back to my GCSEs

“Well it’s a good job you don’t have to release anything, but you know I would be happy to help”

“Thanks Em”

“So talking about you and Liam, have you, ya know” Emma wiggles her eyebrows at me making my face turn read “oh my god you have!”

“Shhh Em. It’s not a big deal it’s not like I was a virgin”

“Not a big deal? You’ve had sex with Liam Hemsworth” Emma attempts to whisper but it turns out to be a squeal

“Again not a big deal. Anyway what about you any new men?”

“No… actually that’s something I wanted to talk to you about while your back. YN I’m… bi” I know I look shocked, not in a bad way I just never expected to have this conversation with my best friend “I’ve been seeing this girl. Her names Olivia and I really like her”

“Are you happy?” I ask

“Yeah” she breathes out

“Then I’m happy for you” I pull her into a hug. We stay there for a few moments before I hear my dad from downstairs

“Emma, Pumpkin dinners ready”

“Come on I’m starving” Emma places the photos down and places her arm around my shoulders and we head downstairs

“Smells amazing Thomas” Emma says taking her seat next to mine

“Thank you Emma. Tuck in”

That night I can’t stop thinking what Emma said to me about writing music to convey my feelings. Getting out of my warm bed I pad over to my notepad and start writing down some feeling. First that comes through is Alex, how I took him for granted

The next emotions to come through were about James and how he cheated on me. How our relationship started when we were so young and how stupid I had been

I close my note book feeling somewhat lighter. Maybe Emma was right. Maybe writing down my feelings into songs is the way to go, even if these songs never see the light of day. I place my notebook in my bedside table draw with a pen, I get back under the covers and manage to fall asleep.

[litas-writings]

The more I think about it, the more I get mad over Charlotte's characterization in the Gemstone trilogy. Like she's being so awfull to Gwendolyn during all three books, she gets no redemption and the last thing we read about her in the books, is about her getting drunk on that birthday party and embarrassing herself to the point the whole school talks about her. I get how it's supposed to give some satisfaction to the reader, since she has been that miss perfect that treats Gwendolyn like shit from book one, but on the other hand it is so unfair for Charlotte. Yes, she is miss perfect, yes she has been horrible to Gwendolyn, but let's look at this from Charlotte's pov:

1) she was never able to have a real childhood, because everyone thought she was the Ruby. Meanwhile Gwendolyn gets to grow up in a cottage at first and then later in London, she has a great relationship with her siblings and her mom, she has a best friend who'd do everything for her and they always spend all their free time together watching movies. Charlotte only has her toxic mother who will never accept that her daughter is any less than perfect. She is supposed to be a time-traveler, but also a perfect student with perfect grades, she has to learn the piano, dancing, etc... she basically gets no free time! And when it's time for her to have her first time-jump, it gets taken away from her, because her COUSIN, who never had to suffer through anything she had to, is the actual ruby. So the ONE THING she prepared her whole life for and which she actually enjoyed, is taken from her. So yes, of course she is pissed. Of course she is jealous. Of course she treats Gwendolyn badly! She feels like her life lost all it's purpose. I would be pissed too!

2) not only is the time-travelling taken away from her, but also the only real friend she ever had: Gideon. Ofc she has no time for friends with her tight schedule, so the only person she can really consider her friend, is the one she spent most of her time with, and that is Gideon. And suddenly your cousin, who already has a way easier life than yourself, comes in and takes your only real friend away from you and even starts dating him. I don't know if Charlotte ever had romantic feelings for Gideon. Probably yes, but even if not, Gideon is still her closest friend and now she has to watch him spending most of his time with Gwendolyn.

So yes, she behaves badly, but I think her behaviour is justified. Because despite of how 'perfect' and grown-up she has to behave, she is still a sixteen year old girl in the middle of puberty which is already the not easiest time to go through, and now she has to deal with all this sudden change! Why couldn't she have gotten a good heartfelt conversation with Gideon at some point, where they talk things out and where she had a change of behaviour towards Gwendolyn? You can say what you want about the movies, but one positive point of them was Charlotte. I hated her in the first two movies (her actress played her arrogant behaviour towards Gwendolyn very well too) but her suddenly smashing those guardians with her Krav Maga skill in the third movie and thus helping Gwendolyn was an amazing scene! And then seeing the two cousins becoming closer over time warms my heart! Book Charlotte deserved a redemption arc too. She deserved better than this embarrassing end.

[imtryingbuck]

hi! i love reading your stories! i’d be interested to know if in Unwanted, Steve ever found out that he was fated to be reader’s mate? What would his reaction be and would it affect his friendship with Bucky? Thanks for writing!!

Thank you🤍

I couldn’t decide which way to go, so the first part is a good reaction, the second part is a bad reaction. Steve’s quite dark in the second part - I honestly don’t know why I did that. Hopefully this is okay.

warning: swearing. steve is ooc. probably typos as I’ve done this on my phone. word count unknown.

Good reaction.

Tony was throwing a huge party in celebration of the team with the help of the Guardians - defeating a massive threat to Earth. Everyone was in high spirits as the drinks were poured and drank. Bucky watched with a soft smile on his lips as Y/n danced with Nat and Wanda, he was so proud of her, to be able to call her his had his heart bursting with pride.

“I promise!” Thors deep voice snapped Bucky out of his watching. “It will get you drunk.”

“Super soldiers can’t get drunk.” Steve laughed.

“This will! Here James.” The God never called him Bucky, it was always James. “Try it, you’ll feel it straight away.”

“Fine.” And so he did. He took a huge gulp of the drink, then another, and another. “I don’t feel any different.”

“Trust me, you’ll feel it.”

Bucky didn’t believe him so he drowned down the rest of the liquid. “I- is- shit.”

As the rest of the table laughed as he stumbled over his words, Steve was slightly concerned. “You alright Buck?”

“Y-you- can I have some more? Stevie you should have some!”

The blond held his empty glass out for Thor and began drinking.

Everyone in that room watched with amusement as the two super soldiers became intoxicated.

“Hey Stevie, guess what.” The brunette slurred, he had lost count of how many glasses he had at this point.

“What?”

“You- you know Y/n?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Guess what.” Steve laughed as he shrugged his shoulders. “Y-you was her mate.”

The blond stopped laughing. His blue eyes were trained on his best friend watching as he swayed slightly in his seat, before searching the room to find Y/n. “What do you mean?”

“Huh?”

“What do you mean that I was Y/n’s mate.”

“Meaning that you and my omega were supposed to be together b-but the Gods didn’t want you to be hers.” Bucky rolled his eyes before whispering. “Which I’m glad about.”

“So Y/n is mine?”

“No! No she’s mine, we’re mated.”

“But she was-“

“Was but not was.” Bucky grinned then burst out laughing… at nothing.

Rolling his eyes, he knew that trying to carry on this conversation with a very drunk Bucky would be pointless. “Right buddy, let’s get you to bed.”

“No thanks, I have an omega.” The brunette looked away to find Y/n. “There she is. Bye.”

And with that Bucky got up, nearly tripping over, and made his way over to Y/n. Steve watched on as his best friend wrapped his arms around her, swaying slightly with a dopey smile on his face - the blond felt his chest tighten as Bucky’s words circled around in his head. She was supposed to be his, but the Gods didn’t allow him to have happiness.

Later that night Steve sat in the living room just staring off into space only snapping out of it when a figure went by him. “Y/n?”

“Hi.”

“What are you doing up?”

“I need a drink, what about you?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” She gave him a small smile as she filled up her glass. “Can I ask you something.”

“Sure.”

“Bucky said that I was your mate, is it true.”

With a tired sigh she placed the glass down and turned to face him. “It’s true.”

“H-how? Why are you with him?”

“Because you were mine but I wasn’t yours.”

“T-that’s impossible.”

“Well it happened, the moon goddess told me and that’s why I was kicked out of my community.”

Steve had heard what had happened to her from Bucky, obviously not telling him that it was his fault for what happened to her. “I- I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“What for? It’s not your fault, no one’s to blame.”

“D-don’t you hate me?”

Laughing lightly she shook her head. “No Steve I don’t hate you, I have no reason to.”

“Does- he does make you happy, doesn’t he?”

“More than I’ve ever been.”

“Good, good. Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve never seen him this happy before, and it’s down to you, thank you.”

When Bucky woke up the next morning the room was spinning, pulling Y/n even closer to him than she already was, he buried his face into her neck and groaned. The memories of the night before hit him like a tonne of bricks. “Shit.”

“It’s okay, he asked me about it and I told him, he’s not angry.” She spoke softly, threading her fingers through his hair.

“How-“

“I just do.” Pressing a kiss to his head. “Get some more sleep, okay?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

—————————

bad reaction.

The hatred in Steve’s eyes were aimed straight at Bucky - who was oblivious to his best friends stare - as he put his jacket on, Sam helping him sort his tie out.

It wasn’t right.

It shouldn’t be Bucky marrying Y/n. It should be him.

It wasn’t right.

Steve was so proud of his oldest friend when he finally proposed to Y/n, he was so happy for both of them when she said yes. He took his best man duties very seriously, working with and helping Wanda in making sure everything was perfect for the soon to be married couple.

The night before the big day Steve had Sharon underneath him in the hotel bed, the scent of sex was heavy in the air as he laid next to the blonde who swore up and down that she would never fall for his tricks again. He was wondering when she was finally going to leave so he could get some sleep when she spoke up. “Steve.”

“Yeah?”

“Did Bucky tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“About Y/n.” He frowned which she caught and started laughing. “He didn’t, did he?”

“What are you talking about?”

“She’s your mate.”

It was his turn to laugh. “No she isn’t.”

“Yes she is! I overheard her telling Natasha and Wanda.”

“She isn’t-“

“Is! Your best friend is marrying your mate and you helped with their wedding.” Sharon burst out laughing.

Steve got up out of the bed and grabbed her by her arm, ignoring her pained cry and pleading, he dragged her out of the bed and towards the door, chucking her out of his room with no clothes on.

The blond didn’t get any sleep that night as Sharon’s words played over and over again in his head.

Watching Bucky smile and laugh with the guys had him getting angrier. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Steve?”

“I need air.” He snapped, slamming the door behind him. Before the rational side of him could talk him out of it he was knocking on the door where Y/n and the girls were getting dressed. “I need to talk to Y/n, it’s about the wedding.” He told Nat.

“Right…”

“Privately.”

The girls all looked at Y/n who smiled and nodded for them to leave. “What’s wrong?” She asked once alone with him.

“I know.”

“Know what?”

“That you’re mine.”

“What are you talking about?”

Taking a step towards her he growled lowly as she took a step back. “You are mine. Not his.”

“No I’m not.” Another step back away from him as he inched closer to her. “I want you to leave.”

“Just admit it.”

“I won’t admit to something that isn’t-“ she cries out as a vase is thrown towards her head and smashes.

Closing the distance between them he grabs her back her neck and slams her into the wall. “Sharon told me that you are mine!”

“S-she’s lying!”

“You told Nat and Wanda that you were mine, did you not?”

She did, months ago, when they asked her about why she was kicked out of her community, she didn’t think about her answer or felt the need to lie to her friends. Plus Bucky wasn’t mad about it when she told him. “It-it’s true bu-but not in the way you think.”

“So you are mine then and there was Bucky thinking he could take you away from me.” He laughed.

“No, no, y-you was my mate b-but I wasn’t yours, I’m not yours Steve.” The hand around her throat got tighter, her own hands gripping his. “P-please.” She wasn’t sure why she was begging him or even what for but she was.

“That can’t be right, you’re lying to me.”

“‘M not, I swear.”

Neither one of them realise that the door came open, or that Bucky is standing there with a murderous look in his eyes as he takes in the scene before him. He crosses the room quicker than he’s ever moved before and rips his best friend off his fiancee. “You ever put your hands on her again I will kill you.”

“She’s mine! My omega!”

“Y/n has never been yours Steve, never, so get it into your thick skull!”

Sam only had a few seconds to grab hold of Y/n and use his body as a shield to protect her from seeing what was going to happen. Steve throws the first punch catching Bucky off guard causing him to stumble backwards. The brunette looked over his shoulder to check if Y/n was safe, finding her in Sam’s arms and unable to see the fight that was about to happen, he charged at the man he called his best friend.

It took Natasha, Thor and Tony to get Bucky off of Steve, the blond lying on the ground with blood splattered on his face. It took a few minutes for Bucky to realise what he had done, to realise where he was, and that Y/n was in the room.

Ripping out of Thor’s hold he makes his way over to his love. “Doll, baby I-I’m so sorry.” She checks him over, only seeing a bruise already starting to form on his cheek where Steve had punched him, then threw herself into his arms. “Are you okay? Lemme look at you, beautiful.” His eyes went straight to her neck where a bruise was visible, if it wasn’t for her holding onto his shirt he would have turned around and carried on beating up Steve.

“I- I’m okay, I promise.”

Tony had seen the bruise and for him it was enough for him to grab Steve by his shirt and tell him that he was done as an Avenger, that he will never be apart of the team or their family again. Thor had the pleasure of dragging the Alpha out of the room and out of the building.

“Let’s get you home, okay?” Bucky whispered, he needed to get her back home so he could look after her, he was mentally creating a list of things he could do to make her feel better and now he just wanted her home.

“No.”

“W-what?”

“We haven’t gotten married yet and I’m not leaving until you’re my husband.”