#if I haven’t said “smashed it” to you let me correct that

[jolapeno]

omg I’m creasing at some of these @guiltyasdave @schnarfer @whocaresstillthelouvre @lotusbxtch @perotovar @yourcoolauntie @almostfoxglove @sweetpascal @sawymredfox @iamasaddie

tagging: @covetyou @thetriumphantpanda @flightlessangelwings @javier-pena @javierpena-inatacvest @msjarvis @moralesispunk @morallyinept (sorry if you lovely lot have done this already I was off the grid yesterday)

[natalynsie]

Swerving Down a Backroad Away from the Police (Noco Oneshot)

Was driving at the age of eighteen with seven passengers in the car in Canada legal?

No.

Was driving at all under the age of eighteen in Canada legal?

No.

What was Noah doing?

Seventeen years old, one of seven passengers in the car, 10 at night, swerving down a backroad away from the police.

How did he get here?

“LORD HELP ME!” Duncan shouted, jumping in the front seat of Eva’s sister’s van, dropping a backpack full of alcohol into Eva’s lap.

“What the fuck, Duncan?” Eva asked.

“SHUT UP AND LET ME DRIVE!”

Duncan hit the gas and started driving out of the parking lot.

“What happened?” Trent asked, holding onto the car door handle on the right side of the car as Duncan turned onto the road.

“I didn’t know there were police right outside! I usually get away with this!”

“He stole beer and… other stuff,” Eva said, making a disgusted face aimed at the bag.

“Ooh! Sounds fun! I haven’t been in a police chase in a while!” Izzy exclaimed happily, leaning forward onto the central console.

“I hope Eva’s sister isn’t mad we stole her car,” Owen added, peeking up over Izzy to look at Eva.

Eva clutched her brow. “I’m so gonna get grounded.”

“Well I’m gonna get arrested and you are too, you’re accomplices now,” Duncan yelled.

“Fuck you Duncan,” Gwen began, leaning over a now smiling Cody in the backseat to get a better look at Duncan. “You did not have to drag us into this.”

“If I get anything on my record, I’m going to be very mad,” Noah stated, arms and legs crossed.

“Well what are you going to do about it?” Duncan asked.

“Go faster,” Izzy suggested.

“Sounds fun.” Duncan smirked, taking a sharp left.

Cody’s shoulder smashed into Noah’s.

“Ow,” Noah deadpanned.

“Sorry,” Cody apologized.

“Did you ever take driver’s ed, Duncan?” Noah questioned.

“I got a D+,” Duncan grinned, taking another sharp turn on the windy road that they were on, trying to throw off the cop car now following.

Cody grabbed Noah and Gwen's legs to avoid crashing into anyone. Noah tensed up and his heart skipped a beat.

“Sorry again,” Cody repeated.

“Not a problem,” Noah articulated.

It was about this time Noah realized.

With all this extra speed, Noah was now pressed flush against Cody. Cody was holding onto him for dear life.

Noah began to feel hot.

Noah already knew. He knew he liked Cody for a little while now. He knew both Gwen and Owen, who were both in the car, knew he knew. He knew Izzy knew before he did. He knew Gwen was looking at him.

Noah looked at her.

She smirked at him, glancing between him and a blissfully unaware Cody with a clenched jaw.

Noah turned back to facing forward, and just wondered when Izzy and Owen would take a peek in the backseat.

And at this point he noticed everyone was shouting.

“So, are we going to just be okay with the fact that Duncan just came in and decided we were all going to die?” Gwen asked.

“I mean, what choice do we have?” Trent asked. “The deal's been done.”

“Unless you have anything to say about it. I'm talking to both of you nerds in the backseat.”

Owen turned around.

Cody was currently wincing at the latest turn, which shoved him harshly onto Noah's side.

Noah didn't know if this was the correct moment to get butterflies in his stomach, but the universe decided it was.

Owen wiggled his eyebrows, and Noah cringed. All he could do was hope Cody didn't see.

“This is bullshit,” Eva stated, picking up her phone. “I’m calling my sister.”

Duncan started shouting about something, but Noah tuned it out. He looked over to Cody, who had moved his hand from Noah’s leg to clench his sleeve, and pulled on it as they took a right turn, falling onto Gwen’s side of the car.

At this point, Cody was clutching Noah’s wrist. Noah couldn’t focus. His head was pounding not only from Cody but also from the driving. His heart was beating quickly not only from the driving but from Cody.

Noah thought he was bold in his head.

He grabbed Cody’s hand.

A thousand sparks rushed through his body.

God, I’m pathetic, he thought to himself.

Noah was never fond of romance as a child. He thought everyone involved was weak. Or stupid. In most cases, both. He was pretty embarrassed that he ended up having a crush. His younger self would probably taunt him.

Maybe he was weak. Well, not maybe, he knew he was weak. He couldn’t run, never mind a ten-minute mile. Back to the topic- maybe he was stupid. This was most definitely pathetic. But he didn’t hate it.

Cody’s eyes were squeezed shut as they took a turn onto a dirt path. Noah heard screams of “JESUS CHRIST” and “DUNCAN WHAT THE FUCK” but he was preoccupied.

He was holding Cody’s hand.

While crashing through the woods being chased by police.

But a win’s a win.

“Did we lose them?” Noah heard Duncan ask.

Noah turned behind them as they began to drive a little less violently.

“I think so?” Noah replied.

“Did they get the plate?” Trent asked. “Eva could be in big trouble.”

“It’s way too dark and we were way too far ahead for them to see anything,” Gwen responded.

Duncan sighed, parking the car at the end of the dirt road.

Eva actually put the setting in park.

The car unloaded, Owen threw up somewhere, and Noah leaned against a tree with Eva and Izzy.

“So, did you call your sister and tell her about the whole ordeal?” Noah asked.

“Yeah. We yelled about that for like, an entire minute. You really didn’t catch it?” Eva asked.

“No, he was too busy making googly-eyes at Cody,” Izzy smiled.

“No I wasn’t!”

“Yes you were.”

“Not.”

“Were.”

“Was not.”

“Were were were were were were were were were were were were were were were!”

“Uh, I can break this tie,” Trent began, leaning over to the group. “He totally did.”

Noah stopped as Trent walked back away. “I have no comment.”

Eva snickered. “Pathetic.”

Noah facepalmed. “I know.”

“Well hey,” Eva smiled, “I don’t know. Maybe you have a chance. When he isn’t all Gwen it seems like he’s pretty into you.”

“He’s into Gwen.”

“He could be into you too.” Eva shrugged. “Now I gotta tell my sister where we actually are so she can drive us home. I figure Duncan’s already gone before we can actually do anything about it. See you guys.”

She walked off a bit farther, and Noah looked around. She was right- Duncan was gone. But Noah wasn’t going to call the police. If Eva’s sister wanted to do that, she could. Noah didn’t care enough.

Izzy smirked. “So, gonna go talk to Cody?”

Noah glanced over his shoulder to see Cody talking with Gwen.

“Nah. Maybe later.”

“If you say so,” Izzy smiled, and skipped off to find Owen.

[stabbyfoxandrew]

kevjean and 14 would kill me i think

14. A kiss to the stomach

Riko smashed Kevin’s hand yesterday. Since it happened, Kevin has not said a word to anyone. He has done nothing but stare at his hand. The bones had come out of it. And he hadn’t had the stomach to push them back in. They’re hiding because bandages now and his hand is completely numb. Like it was never there. 

He’ll never play again. He’ll never play again. He can’t even write his name. He will never play again. Ever. 

For the first time since his mother died he is missing practice. It would do him no good to go. Because his hand is destroyed. He’ll. Never. Play. Again. 

He is useless. 

Useless things do not last long here in the nest. Kevin knows that. He’s seen what happens to useless things. He never expected to become one. His eyes flick to the clock on the nightstand and he’s got about thirty minutes before practice ends. Everyone else thinks he’s sick.

Kevin too sick to play? That’s never happened before. Surely they must know it’s a lie. But even if they figure it out, what could they do? What could they say?

The doorknob starts to turn and Kevin’s nauseous. No. No, he’s got time to get himself together before Riko comes back—

It’s not Riko. 

It’s Jean.

He sucks in a harsh breath when he sees Kevin. “I knew it. I knew you weren’t sick.”

Kevin merely blinks at him. He has no words.

“What has he done?”

“I’ll never play again,” Kevin says, his voice monotone and lifeless and dead. Like he will be soon.

Jean’s eyes leave Kevin’s hand to search his face. “The doctor said that?”

“I haven’t been to one.”

“What?”

“Riko wouldn’t let me go.” Kevin swallows thickly. “He gave me an ace bandage and a bottle of Ibuprofen. Told me to deal with it.”

“You have to go.”

“I can’t.”

“You must.” Jean kneels in front of Kevin. “It can heal if you—”

“He said no.”

“Then you have to leave here. Get away from him.” Jean says, as if that’s a possibility. Kevin scoffs. 

“And go where? Straight to the morgue?” Kevin asks. “It’s a little early for that.”

“To your father.” Jean says and it’s clear from his expression he isn’t joking.

“How the hell could I possibly get to South Carolina—”

“The southern banquet is tonight, it’s only a couple hours away in Virginia,” Jean supplies. “You get there. You tell Coach Wymack you need help. He will help you.”

“I can’t—”

“You don’t have to tell him everything. Just that you need help,” Jean says, standing up to grab Kevin’s school bag. He empties it onto the floor before cramming in some clothes from the dresser on Kevin’s side of the room. Kevin can only watch and try not to throw up. Jean can’t be serious. “You’ve got one of the team's credit cards, correct?”

“Um. Yes?” It’s in his wallet. And it’s only for emergencies. 

“Use it at an ATM to take out a few hundred, buy a bus ticket that will take you to VU, find your father.”

“I can’t—” Kevin repeats and Jean kneels in front of him again.

“If you want to live you will.” He says, then he grabs one of Kevin’s shoes and stuffs it onto his right foot. Then the other on the left. He sits back on his heels for a moment then puts his arms around Kevin, places a kiss against his clothed stomach. Then he rises, pulls Kevin to his feet, and sets his backpack on one shoulder. “Everyone is at practice now. No one will know you’re gone until it’s too late.”

“Jean—”

“Goddamn it, Kevin, go.”

“I want you to come with me.”

Jean freezes at that. Blinks several times. “And you know I want to go. But both of us, it’s impossible.”

“He’ll kill you.”

“He’ll never know.” Jean says. “The Master told me to get out of his sight. As far as they know I’m in the locker room.”

“But Jean—”

Jean pulls Kevin close, careful of his hand. He presses a kiss to his temple. “Now get the hell out of here. Call me when you can. Let me know you’re alright.”

“I will.”

[authortobenamedlater]

😎🦋🎨🎁

From these fanfic asks.

😎 What fics do you prefer on a scale of canon compliant to wildly original?

Depends on the canon 😂 and how we define “wildly original.” I tend to get off the wildly original train when we get to coffee shop/college or university/modern AUs because the characters are usually not even themselves anymore by then.

🦋 Which character is your favorite to write?

I’ve been in this game way too long to have only one LOL.

The TV versions of Chief and Cortana are the BEST to write. I love their game selves too, but I met them through the show so that iteration of them will always be special for me.

Though I haven’t for ages, I loved writing AOS Captain Pike and my versions of Robert and Sarah April. I can never get past the starting friction to get this one rolling again.

Rex and Cody. I lost so many WIPs with them in my computer crash.

Last but most definitely not least, since they currently have my muse in a chokehold. Tom and Chyler. For some reason I find both of their voices very natural.

🎨 If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

I will keyboard smash and cry for joy if anyone ever does fanart for ANY of my stuff.

Top of my list would be something for MWAS. I would love to have a visual of Tom and Chyler together as adults. If I had the requisite photo manipulating abilities and software I’d do it myself. There’s one scene I have in mind but I haven’t written it yet.

For Such a Time As This would be a runner-up because I’d like to see the characters from B5 and Halo interacting.

I’ll throw The Toddler Invasion in there, too, just because it’s one of my best fics.

🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?

The last two fics I posted have taken up most of my time for the past several weeks but *goes on archaeological dig through WIP folder*

Ah! Here’s a good one! This is from the story of how Tom and Chyler nearly split. Working title is Neither Can The Floods Drown It. Excerpt is a little long so it’s going under a cut.

—

“I heard there was an incident with Lieutenant Lasky earlier,” Murray started.

“That’s correct, sir,” the squad leader said. “I had words with him.”

Murray nodded. “Has he ever given you problems before?” The CAG didn’t know Lasky well, but the name was one that always seemed to float to the top of the pile in a good, or at least neutral, way.

Larsen seemed to think. “He…well, let’s just say self-expression’s not one of his struggles, sir.”

Murray chuckled. 

“He also likes to play a little closer to the edge than he should, if you know what I mean,” Larsen continued.

“I do.”

“But no. Lasky’s never been a problem.” The troubled look hadn’t left Larsen’s face. “He a good guy. A good officer, a damn good pilot.” He glanced up at Murray. “Keep an eye out, sir, he might have your job in twenty years.”

Murray grunted. “I’ll put him at the top of my prayer list.” He eyed Larsen. “What aren’t you telling me, Larsen?”

Larsen bit his lip. “Lasky’s wife filed for divorce, sir.”

Murray closed his eyes. “Sonofabitch,” he breathed. Divorce wasn’t uncommon in the service, but that didn’t make it any less painful. Many of the younger generation had chosen to simply forget the idea of marriage altogether.

Lasky had bucked that trend, and now he was paying for it.

[chishiya-of-diamonds]

Smash or pass with everyone you know from the borderlands. No rules other than you cannot skip anyone.

Oh, alright!

Keep in mind, I had to step very far outside of myself to even consider doing this. It’s not that I don’t find people attractive, it’s taking it to the nest step and considering having sex with them. That’s something that is NEVER a thought in my head. Having said that, here you go:

Arisu- Pass. He’s the human embodiment of a puppy. Aside from that, it would just be…weird.

Usagi- Pass. I…no. Just. No.

Hatter- Pass. Absolutely not! No way in any scenario, dimension, or alternate plane of existence! I get itchy in all the wrong places just thinking about what contagious diseases he has picked up from his multiple tramps endeavors.

Aguni- Pass. (See above reason given for Hatter, minus the bit about the itchiness and multiple tramps endeavors).

Tatta- Pass! HELL NO! If Arisu is a puppy, I don’t even know where to put Tatta. He’s…well, he’s…he has rendered me speechless and this is something I’ve only experienced maybe 5 times in my life.

Niragi- Pas…smas…PASS! I believe there is probably something to be said when it comes to fucking your enemy. The rush it must create from the feeling of sheercontroloversomeoneyouabsolutelydespise must be… Wait, what now? Also, the likelihood that I would end up with a sniper rifle jammed up my ass is frightening. So, as I said, PASS.

Ann- Smash (What an unappealing word to use). I think I may have slipped previously and mentioned that I thought Ann and I could really do serious damage to each other if we fucked.

Kuzuryu- Sma…PASS! PASS! PASS! He’s too much of an ‘older brother’ figure in my life. That would just be…eww!

Takatora Samura (Last Boss)- Sm…pa??? Yes, that’s right, he told me his real name. I’m somewhat uncertain when it comes to Last Boss. We do talk from time to time and I’ve said as much before. He can actually hold a conversation on very compelling topics with a fascinating point of view and insights that I’ve never heard before. Last Boss has probably been one of the most surprising discoveries of this entire experience. With all of that in his favor, there simply is no way. Logistically…well, he’s easily half a foot (if not more) taller than me, so I’m not even sure how that would work. Although, I’m sure many of you will chime in with suggestions (I can hardly wait). Unlike Niragi, who I’m fairly certain would do some very creative things with his weapon (rifle! Get your head out of your pants!), Last Boss isn’t nearly as threatening towards me with his blade. I suppose that means there is a certain trust between myself and LB. It appears as though I can’t make a clear decision when it comes to our Katana-wielding mascot. I’m not allowed to be undecided in this game, correct? I suppose it will have to be a “pass” then. At any rate, should you happen to run into LB, just do me a favor- DO NOT use his real name.

Mira- PASS! Unless…can I wrap my hands around her throat and choke her while the “smashing” is happening? If so, I may have to change my answer.

I know the majority of you are waiting to see how I answer for one person in particular. Wait no longer-

Kuina- Smash (though, I shudder to use the word in reference to her; it’s so crass). Oh, this is going to get messy, messy…big, big mess! Everywhere! All right, everyone calm yourselves and sit down while I explain myself. As many of you know, I need a strong emotional bond- not to mention a completely unrealistic amount of trust- if I’m going to let someone get remotely close to me. Kuina is one of the kindest, most genuine people I’ve ever met. Why she wants to have anything to do with me is baffling. I’m not sure there is anyone on the planet that deserves to be the person Kuina chooses to be by her side. While we haven’t known each other for very long, she has managed, somehow, to break through many of my barriers. She has forged an emotional bond with me- all without me even noticing- that is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I could keep going but it’s just going to devolve into nonsensical rambling. I’ve given my answer and I’ve stated my reasons.

The only thing I will reiterate- the phrase “smash” doesn’t not apply to Kuina. It’s not good enough for her. Neither am I.

Questions? Let me know.

-SC.

[outshinethestars]

Allegiances (Vorkosigan saga)

Sequel to Da

“What is it, Miles?” Uncle Simon said, and Miles sighed and gave up on pretending to work on his math homework, or even pretending he needed Uncle Simon to help him with his homework in the first place.

“It just doesn’t seem fair,” Miles said, letting out the pent up frustration “That Ivan gets all your attention now, just ‘cause you married his Ma.”

“I see,” Uncle Simon said, “Would facts be helpful to you in this moment?”

That was one of Mama’s questions.  She always made sure that Miles understood that no was a valid answer, although never a permanent one.  Because sometimes people just feel feelings, and sometimes it isn’t helpful to smash those feelings with Betan logic.

Uncle Simon was even worse than Mama, though.  Uncle Simon didn’t argue, he just provided you with raw data, so that it wasn’t even that he proved you wrong, you just were wrong.

“Sure, I guess,” Miles said.

“Well,” Uncle Simon said, “In the three months since I married Alys, I have spent a little over twenty three hours in your company, that’s approximately 3.57 hours more than the exact same span of time last year.”

Yeah.  Like that.

“Oh,” Miles said, “It’s not fair that you just know that sort of thing.”

“Perhaps not,” Uncle Simon said,  “But in light of this information, what are you really upset about?”

Miles thought about it.  He tried to be logical and objective while examining his feelings, as if he could quantify them and scrutinize them under a microscope, not ignoring them or getting caught up in them either, just the way Mama tried to teach him.  It wasn’t easy.

“I guess it doesn’t seem fair that Ivan gets to have everything .  He gets to have so much and I- I’m stuck like this.  I don’t know, I’m not making sense.”

“So, you think that because Ivan was born strong and healthy, he doesn’t deserve to have a father who loves and looks after him?” Uncle Simon said, calm and utterly ruthless.

“Well,” Miles said, “When you put it like that.”

“I know change is hard, Miles,” Uncle Simon says, “But this doesn’t really change anything.  I’ll still be here whenever you need me.”

“I know,” Miles said, and he did, really.  But he still felt certain that he had lost something in all of this, something real and significant, but frustratingly nebulous.

“The thing is,” Miles said slowly, “it’s your job to look after us, right?  And if Ivan and Gregor and me were all in danger and you could only save one of us, you’d save Gregor, obviously because he’s the emperor.  But before now, you would save me before Ivan, because you’re Da’s - because Da holds your loyalty.  But now, Ivan is your family, and that makes him your priority.”

“Ah,” Uncle Simon said, “I see, and I apologize, Miles.  I had not thought of it in that light, and you are quite correct.  Something has shifted, albeit something which is not practicably observable.”

“You’re not sorry you married Ivan’s ma, though, because you love her,” that was what Mama said, anyways.  Miles found the concept of Uncle Simon loving anyone hard to wrap his mind around, “So you’ve wanted to put Ivan first this whole time, you just haven’t because of duty.”

“You understand, don’t you,” Uncle Simon said, “That it isn’t a matter of caring for one of you over the other.  I care about both of you deeply.”

“I know,” Miles said.  It wasn’t about caring, or liking, or the word they were too Barrayarans to come out and say, loving.   It was about loyalty and chains of responsibility.  They were having a very frank and Betan sort of conversation about things that were fundamentally Barrayaran, so it stood to reason that things could get a little tangled.  “But you are Ivan’s Da.”

“I am.”

And Da meant more than Uncle ever would.

“I am sorry,” Uncle Simon said, “I don’t regret it, but I’m sorry I didn’t think.”

“It’s alright,” Miles said, and realized that it was.  Talking it out had helped, putting his finger on exactly what it was that had made him feel passed over and abandoned.  Having it all laid out in front of him like this, he realized he didn’t mind so much if Ivan got to have Uncle Simon as his own in a way that Miles didn’t.  “You’re right, about Ivan deserving to have a da.  I’ve got Da and Grandda, and Bothari and you, and all Ivan’s ever had is you, and of course you’ve always been busy with other things.  I never really thought about it before, but I guess it’s fair, if Ivan gets to have you all to himself, since you’re all he’s got.”

“I would hardly say that Ivan has me all to himself,” Uncle Simon said with one of those small smiles of his.

“True,” Miles said, brightening, “Twenty three hours, you said?  If I guilt trip you hard enough, d’you think we could make it to an even thirty?”

Uncle Simon laughed.

[talia-rumlow]

My Saviour (Rumlow X Reader) Chapter Fourtyfive - He Really Does Like You!

– I was actually coming to talk to you. Pierce approved you, and I asked some of the guys if they wanted to go out an celebrate. If you’re up for it.

Pierce approved you? You’re not even done with your training yet. You haven’t even used the knife. And you’re not familiar with combat under water. Or IN water..

– He what?

You can almost see Rollins’ smile through the phone.

– He saw how you did at target practice, and he always keeps one eye on the training area. Guess he thought you were ready. So? Celebrate?

Celebrate? Well, you do need a drink.

– Sure. I’ll celebrate with you. Oh, crap..

You take a deep breath and look towards your bathroom. Getting ready will not be easy, closing in on impossible in this mess.

– Something on your mind? I do believe he’ll be there, if that’s what you’re thinking about. He’s your boss after all.

– No, no, that’s not what I’m asking. It’s just that my shower is smashed…

You sigh. Perfect. Drinks with Rumlow and the guys, and you’re gonna show up looking like a rag doll.

– I’ll come and pick you up, YN. You can use my shower. No problem.

You hang up. Look down on your body. You still have your gear on. Maybe you should pack something else to wear out tonight. This outfit feels like an invite to a fight.

You just finish packing a bag, when Rollins knocks on your door. You throw the bag over your shoulder, and go to open.

The first thing you see, when you open the door is a paper with your picture on it, your information, and at the very bottom, Pierces signature and a red «APPROVED» stamped over it.

– Agent YLN! Ready for your first assignment?

You laugh a bit. Like a celebration is an assignment.

– And what might that be, Agent Rollins?

– Fix things with Agent Rumlow! We have to trust each other out there, we are responsible for each others lifes. Communication is Key!

You close your eyes.

«I thought you said I wasn’t worth it!»

He probably won’t even talk to you now. Maybe you should just quit. You don’t want to bother Rollins with that, so instead you fake a smile.

– Maybe after a few drinks. Right now I want to take that shower.

—————————————

Rollins’ apartment is just two blocks away from Rumlows. Also on the top floor. Aside from the interiour the apartments are identical. Rollins sits down on his couch.

– The bathroom is yours, Agent.

Happy that you can finally take a shower, and put on some clothes that doesn’t scream «fight me now» you walk into the bathroom. In there, you find a new set of gear for you. SHIELD mark on the arm. Just like all the other Agents have. You lift up the gear belt. Is it just you, or is this heavier? You pop your head out of the bathroom door.

– Jack! I can’t wear this tonight!

– Yes, you can. We all do. Remember, this is a part of your body now! Learn to live with it!

Listen to him, YN! He’s the one who trained you. He’s the one that got you approved….

…..And if your gut feeling is correct. Some dumbass drunk guy is going to try and fight you tonight. Let’s just hope he’s really drunk…

————————————————-

The shower helped. And you weren’t wrong when you felt the gear belt being heavier. There is some new additions to it. A retraction rope, and extra ammunition to name a few. Are these guys expecting a fight all the time? Will you also have to expect that now?

It’s already dark, when you walk towards the pub down the street. The same pub you met Br… Rumlow in. You take a deep breath. Just a couple of drinks. If it get’s too weird, you can always go to the hotel you booked.

– Nervous, YN? Come on, you deserve this. First round is on me!

Rollins voice drags you back to reality.

– A little bit.. I mean, what do I say to him. Communication haven’t exactly been blooming lately.

– Say what you feel, YN!

You stop. Do you even know what you feel anymore? Sure, you love him. But is that enough? Will you be able to live with him and this mood swings, his temper? His inability to say what’s really on his mind?

Rollins stops a couple of steps in front of you. Turns around.

– Changed your mind? You don’t want to go?

He comes over to you. Takes a hold of your shoulders.

– Listen, YN! Rumlow is an Alpha male! And we can be difficult from time to time. But from what I know about you, you’re an Alpha female. So you should be able to take it. Make him talk, YN! It’ll get better then.

Make him talk? Talk about what? All he cares about is his job! He called what you talked about pillow talk. All he cares about is following orders, SHIELD and hiding his emotions. Maybe it used to be you… But it’s not anymore…

– Hey, YN! He really does like you. Trust me. I can tell. I’ve known him since we were 18. Two drinks. Then you can leave!

Fine.. You can manage two drinks. Only two. To celebrate, right? Come on, YN. You can do this.

A lot of the other Agents are already there when you arrive. You know some of them. But some of them you haven’t even met yet. Rollins introduces you as the new asset on the team, the conversation centers around your training, and how highly Pierce talks about you. You try to concentrate, and answer their questions. But your mind is filled with Rumlow, and there is a guy at your table that keeps sending you hard looks. You don’t know why. Is he mad because you’re a girl, or does he think that you got a place on the team because of Rumlow? You try to send a hard look back, but he just continues to look at you. This whole situation is making you nervous. What is this guys problem?

– Started without me I see…

Rumlows voice behind you. You don’t turn around. But when he sits down on the empty chair next to you, you look at him. He glances at you. But nothing more.

You keep talking to the others. This is actually pretty nice, all things considered.

– Hey hey, wait up.. I just have to put my make up on first..

The angry guy from across the table, he looks at you when he’s talking. But you can tell that he’s talking ABOUT you, and not TO you. Where did this comment come from? Haven’t you proved your worth? Your skills? Isn’t it enough that Pierce approved you?

Rumlow slams his hand down on the table. You jump.

– WHAT!?!?

Rumlow looks at the guy, and you recognise the look from that day out in the hall, outside his office. When he fired that guy, and everybody found out about your relationship.

– It was a joke, Rumlow!

The other guys voice almost trembling. Is he scared of Rumlow?

– We do NOT crack jokes on fellow Agents expense! Especially the females!

The guy swallows. He doesn’t take his eyes away from Rumlow. It’s almost like he thinks that Rumlow can jump over the table and beat his ass at any second. This was supposed to be a nice quiet evening. Why does things like this continue to happen to you? You stand up.

– I… I’m just gonna go and PUT MY MAKE UP ON!

You emphasis the words, and look at the guy. Hopefully he’ll stop while he’s still ahead. You don’t want to watch this unfold. So you leave for the ladies room.

Again you find yourself standing in there. Leaning against the sink. Looking at yourself in the mirror. The only thing that changed are your outfit, and your fighting skills. If someone assaults you now, you can easily overpower them. Rollins taught you good. You take a deep breath, before walking out the door.

– Hey, YN! Wait up!

You turn around. It’s that guy. Did he follow you?

– What’s up?

You try to sound casual and calm, but you feel like your voice is shaking. You can handle yourself, YN. What are you afraid of?

He comes all the way up in your face. You maintain eye contact, like Rollins taught you.

– Rumlow kicked my Brother off the squad, and then suddenly we’re going Co-ed. And you, YOU’RE fucking your way up the floors aren’t you?

He lifts his arm. Is he going to hit you? Your mind instantly goes back to David. How he hit you, again and again. How you day after day, week after week, moth after month, year after year went to work with the same black eye, and the same excuse.

And then, you remember the night you met Rumlow. Davids hand around your throat. How you though you were going to die. How Rumlow yanked him away from you.

You look at the guys arm again, ready to hit you.

– Let’s see how good you really are. Little Bitch!

You can’t move. You completely freeze up. It’s like your brain isn’t functioning. Come on, YN! You can easily put this guy down.

Someone grabs his arm. You’re so inside your own head, that you don’t even know if it’s you or not. One quick movement forward, then back again. The guy goes down like a twig.

– What the fuck, Rumlow! You broke my arm!

You look up. Rumlow looks down at the guy on the floor.

– Serves you right! Don’t bother showing up at work on Monday! Now, get the fuck out of my face!

The guy get to his feet, and run away. You look at Rumlow, looking at you. He looks at you like your boss. Like you did something wrong, or like the teacher did, if you failed a test, or didn’t do your homework. You swallow. Is he going to kick you out now?

– You froze!

He’s not mad. Just determined. Like he want’s to teach you something.

– I….

You don’t get to say anything else, before your lips collide in a kiss so intense you almost lose your ability to breathe….

@nekoannie-chan @here4thefanfics @late-to-the-party-81

Check out the My Saviour Masterlist HERE!

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Previous Chapter Next Chapter

[nsfwhiphop]

Comedy Skit Title: Angelo Mocking Talentless People

Angelo says: "So, tell me, found any inspiration for your screenplay yet?"

French Talentless People: "No, not yet! We were hoping to steal your ideas. Without you, we’re toast. We can't produce anything of value without your help. You're the genius, we're the dumbfucks."

Angelo says: "I understand. But I'm curious, how long have you been stealing my ideas? Let me guess—since November 2023? You’ve been spying on my computer and taking my ideas without remorse. It’s been nine months now since I created my two blogs and my Twitter page, am I right?"

French Talentless People: "Yeah, correct! We steal and steal and steal. It's like a never-ending oasis of fresh ideas; it just keeps flowing, man!"

Angelo says: "How does it feel to steal from me? It feels good, right?"

French Talentless People: "Yeah, it feels so good. We became the cool kids in Hollywood thanks to your two blogs and Twitter page. We told everyone we were the writers. They think we're the talented ones; no one knows it's you. We just enjoy stealing your work, man! It's so fun."

Angelo says: "And did you make any money stealing my ideas?"

French Talentless People: "Yeah, we made so much money! We were acknowledged by so many billionaires around the world. They showed us respect because they thought we were the writers behind your two blogs. These billionaires can be so gullible, man! They can see we speak broken English, they can see we don’t have American accents, but they still naively believe we’re capable of such 'intellectual prowess.' They're so gullible, and we take advantage of it."

Angelo says: "Sounds like you guys had a lot of fun. But did you think these billionaires would never find out that you're talentless clowns? How long did you think this charade was going to last? How long before you're asked to write a lucrative screenplay? These billionaires will ask you to write one, and if you fail, guess what happens? They’ll finally see the truth you’ve been desperately trying to cover up—that I’m the true author and you’re the criminals who stole my intellectual property. It’s only a matter of time before the truth comes out, am I right? You’ll face the wrath of billionaires now. They will come for you..."

French Talentless People: "What do you mean when you say we’ll face the wrath of billionaires? How are they gonna come for us? Could you explain?"

Angelo says: "You guys obviously haven’t thought this through, so let me help you clear up the confusion. You see, you’ve been stealing the work of a talented man on this blog for the past nine months, correct?"

French Talentless People: "Yes, correct! We’ve been stealing since November 2023 until today, August 8th, 2024."

Angelo says: "Well, let me continue my explanation. You stole from me for nine months, but you lied to so many gullible billionaires, making them believe you wrote the dope stories on my blogs. The truth is, there’s only one writer capable of such 'intellectual prowess,' and it’s me. I’m the only one capable of writing such things, do you get it now? So when I disappear from my blogs, guess what happens? You’ll be exposed as 'charlatans'—that's the correct word. You’ll be seen as fraudsters who defrauded wealthy billionaires by lying to them for the past nine months. You don’t even realize you committed a crime by lying to their faces. These billionaires have seen all of you lying, and they don’t like being punk’d. Do you understand what’s happening now? You’ll face the wrath of billionaires who will ask you to write a lucrative screenplay. And if you fail, guess what happens? They’ll take you to hell."

French Talentless People: "Take us to hell? Get the fuck outta here! They’ll ask us to write lucrative screenplays, and if we fail to do that, we’re so fucked. You’re right, man! We really didn’t think this through. How are we gonna write box office smash-hit movies now?"

Angelo says: "NOT MY PROBLEM! You can all go to hell now. Like I said, it's all fun and games until it comes time to write a lucrative screenplay. I’m gonna laugh at all your future movies—they’ll be so wack, I have no doubt about it. There’s gonna be so much brain-farts on your pages, I can already see it. Talentless clowns getting roasted by the media. TMZ is gonna have a field day with your wack-ass films."

French Talentless People: "Don’t worry, we have a few talented people in France. We’ll call them. I just hope they’ll be as talented as you."

Angelo says: "This is my reply: 'HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!' HILARIOUS!!! Did you just say 'as talented as me'? This is gonna be so fun to watch. I have my popcorn ready—challenge accepted. Y'all make me laugh, bro! Y'all are so funny to me. It’s like watching an episode of 'Dumb and Dumber' with Jim Carrey."

French Talentless People: "Stop it! You’re so mean to us; you make fun of us. Stop mocking us."

Angelo says: "Why don’t you all go fuck yourselves and get the fuck out of my business? Go back to making your low-quality films for stupid people."

French Talentless People: "It’s true, we can’t be mad at you for making fun of us. We did make fun of you too when we stole your work and claimed to be the authors. We are charlatans, and you have the last laugh. We accept our defeat. It’s time to face the truth—what you said about us is true. We steal, we lie, we claim to be talented, but we’re not. We enjoyed stealing from you for the past nine months, but now it’s the end. You refuse to give us any more of your free ideas. You have so many fresh ideas, man! Can we buy them from you?"

Angelo says: "And how long did you think this free ride was going to last? Forever? You thought I was going to give you my best artistic works for free and forever? How stupid are you guys? If you were so smart, you’d know that I gave you this intellectual property for free on my two blogs out of pity. I pity you guys because I wanted to give it for free. Don’t ever think you stole something from me because my most important works are not on this blog—they are in 'Manuscript' form, and that’s where I make billions of dollars from it. You will never steal my 'Manuscripts'; they’re protected in a safe place."

French Talentless People: "Can we ask you a question?"

Angelo says: "Yeah, sure! What’s up?"

French Talentless People: "If we want to become talented like you, how long will it take us? How many years do we have to practice?"

Angelo says: "You can call all the most talented screenwriters in Hollywood. They all started in the early and late eighties, which means they’ve been practicing this screenwriting craft for at least 35 years."

Fun Fact: All the talented screenwriters can attest to it. They will all say: "Yeah, man, we've been at this since the 1980s. Screenwriting is a craft we’ve been honing for decades—it’s a time-honored tradition."

A "time-honored tradition" refers to a practice, custom, or activity that has been respected and upheld over a long period of time. It suggests that the tradition has been passed down through generations and is valued because of its historical significance and the respect it has garnered over the years. In your context, it emphasizes that screenwriting is a well-established and respected craft that has been practiced and perfected by many over a long time.

French Talentless People: "What about you? How long have you been practicing? How many years?"

Angelo says: "I’m 42 years old, and I’ve been practicing since 1997. That’s 27 years of dedication. I’ve typed over 102,857,040 words, read countless books, watched numerous movies, and studied screenplays. It’s like a sport to me. You should try it sometime—it’s a fun hobby, you know?"

Here’s how I train monthly:

I type 571,428 words each month. I’ll let you do the math. I take this craft seriously.

To calculate the total number of words over 15 years, given that 571,428 words are written every month, you can multiply the number of words per month by the number of months in 15 years.

Determine the total number of months in 15 years:

15 years×12 months/year=180 months

Calculate the total number of words:

571,428 words/month×180 months=102,857,040 

So, writing 571,428 words every month for 15 years results in a total of 102,857,040 words.

Angelo continues: "This means that for 15 years, I wrote 571,428 words per month. That’s who you’re dealing with. I’m an alien; you can’t do what I do.

Now get the fuck outta my office and go watch the Cartoon Network, you talentless clowns. You can’t steal my ideas anymore. I protect them with a typewriter—I’m a warrior, and I never leave my home without my sword. My novels are my swords now.

Okay, this chat was fun.

Goodbye, French Talentless People! I hope you write those lucrative screenplays and impress me. I’ll clap when I’m impressed.

Okay, bye-bye now.

Angelo.

P.S.:

Title: Angelo Mocking Talentless People

Synopsis of the Comedy skit: In this biting and humorous skit, Angelo confronts a group of talentless individuals who have been shamelessly stealing his ideas and passing them off as their own. As they boast about their newfound fame and fortune, Angelo methodically exposes their incompetence and ignorance, mocking their reliance on his creativity. The skit unfolds as Angelo sarcastically questions their lack of originality, predicting their inevitable downfall when they are unable to deliver on the expectations of gullible billionaires who believed in their false genius. Through sharp wit and biting humor, Angelo takes pleasure in watching them squirm as they realize the gravity of their deception and the consequences they now face. Ultimately, the skit is a satire on the pitfalls of fraud and the unwavering power of true talent.

See the meme: Can you see me laughing at you?

Like I said, it's all fun and games until it comes time to write a lucrative screenplay.

[lollipopwrites]

Sandbox Love Never Dies

hey loves, i wrote this at like 2 am so excuse any typos/moments where it doesn't flow right/grammatical errors. also this fic is purely for fun!! an actual relationship with regina george or anyone like her would not go well, don't get any ideas. okay enjoy!

pairing: regina george x reader

genre: fluff

description: you decide to visit your childhood friend and the visit takes an unexpected turn

warnings: a slightly toxic friendship/relationship between reader and regina, mentions of being strangled and being lit on fire, house egging, mentions of police, mentions of break ups, lmk if i missed something!

Sandbox Love Never Dies

The second after you knocked on the door to the massive George family estate, you were enveloped in a crushing embrace by the matriarch of the family herself.

“Y/N! It’s so nice to see you, babe! I feel like you haven’t been here in forever!” Mrs. George exclaimed while you hugged. You wanted to respond, but she had wrapped you up at such an angle that your face was smashed into her breasts, which made it hard to breathe, let alone speak.

Thankfully, she pulled away from the hug, a beam plastered onto her face. You tried not to show how out of breath you were. Those boobs could strangle.

“Regina’s in her room. She’s gonna be so goo goo to see you!” Mrs. George said giddily, clapping her hands like a happy little seal.

You cleared your throat to avoid snorting in laughter, “Goo goo?”

“Oh yeah,” Mrs. George giggled, leading you through the living room, “Regina’s been teaching me some slang. She says goo goo is all the rage nowadays. Anything to keep me young, y’know?”

“Oh, yeah,” you nodded, struggling to keep the amusement off of your face.

You waved to Kylie, Regina’s younger sister, who was watching… Scream 3?

Isn’t she like 6? You wondered idly, but then realized that anything was possible in this family. They were certified weirdos.

Your family and the George’s had been connected since before you were born. Mr. George had gone to high school with your father, and they passed their bond down to you and Regina.

Regina and you had been tight in kindergarten, but your family moved a city over in first grade, and when you didn’t go to school together anymore, the two of you grew apart. But you still reconnected every couple of months.

Mrs. George’s knocks on Regina’s bedroom door jabbed you out of your thoughts.

“What the hell do you want, mom?” Regina hissed from behind the door.

Her mother’s smile was unwavering. “Y/N’s here, hon! Don’t you want to see her?”

With a swift fling, the door opened and you were face to face with your childhood best friend’s calculating eyes. She looked you over once and raised a perfect brow, before breaking into a wide, sweet smile.

Regina’s smile held one uncanny resemblance to her mother’s; it was fake.

“Thanks, mommy! Y/N, come in, come in,” she grabbed your wrist and pulled you into her gigantic room, slamming the door in her mother’s face.

“Ugh, sorry about her, she’s annoying isn’t she?” Regina said with an eye roll, sitting neatly on her bed.

“Don’t be mean. Your mom’s sweet.” You replied, flopping onto the bed next to her.

Most people cowered at Regina. Agreed to everything she said avidly, afraid that she’d bite. But you’d known her well enough and long enough not to be afraid of her. You were the one person at her level.

Regina let out a dry scoff, “Yeah, yeah.” Her face turned speculative. “So how have things been, Pickles?”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname. Regina had called you that ever since you finished a jar of pickles by yourself in less than 3 minutes when you were 12.

“Eh,” you answered plainly.

“Only ‘eh’? How’re things going with, uh…” she waved her hand around in the air as if she were trying to conjure the name of the person she was thinking of. “Martial?” She guessed halfheartedly.

“James.” You corrected with a chuckle, “And we called things off. He was too… I don’t know. Normal-ish.”

“That’s not a word.”

“You know what I mean.”

“You could’ve just said normal, there was no need for the ‘ish’ part--”

“He was too normal,” you cut her off, brows raised, “there was nothing about him that set him apart from others.”

She considered your words, “I get it… you only allow special people in your life. Such as myself.” She smiled cheekily.

You grinned fondly. “Yep. Just like you.”

She concealed her blush with a glare. “Aren’t you going to ask about me? You and Martial aren’t the stars of the show, you know.”

“Ah, yes. How are you doing? Are you and Aaron still together?”

Regina’s smirk contorted into a deep frown. “He broke up with me.” She pouted with a sniff.

“Aw, babes.” You scooted over to her and wrapped her into a hug.

“I mean, it’s not like we haven’t broken up before, but normally we get together after a week or two! It’s been like a month!” She sobbed into your shoulder.

You rubbed her back in slow circles. She was crying crocodile tears, this you knew, but you comforted her anyway.

“And I saw him flirting with that horse Amy Lewinsky at Connor's house party last week… I just don’t know what to think!” She continued.

You pulled away from the hug to grab the tissue box and hand it to her. “I’m sorry, ‘Gina.”

“Call me Gina one more time and I’ll soak you in gas and set you on fire.” She sniffled.

You scoffed, but continued. “What would make you feel better?”

You could almost see the idea forming in her head as her tears stopped slowly and her expression twisted slowly into a mischievous grin, her icy blue eyes boring into yours.

There was only one word to describe the expression she wore: villainous.

~~~

“Ouch.” You muttered weakly as you were pricked by a thorn for what had to be the fourth time in the last 15 minutes.

Regina insisted that the only thing that would make her feel better would be to egg Aaron’s house. You played along because it sounded fun at the time, but you were now regretting it as the two of you crouched behind the pointy bushes in his front yard.

You guys had waited until it was late in the night to commit the act, and had spent the rest of the daylight watching TV and buying eggs from the grocery store.

Once the two of you saw the last light in Aaron’s house click off, you shared a cynical smile.

“Okay,” Regina whispered sharply, “me first.”

She grabbed an egg from the carton, tip-toeing behind a tree so that she’d be able to hit the house at a good angle but would still be hidden from the people inside.

She grinned like the cheshire cat before tossing the egg at his house with force. It landed above the front door with a splat. She had a good arm.

“My turn, my turn!” You whisper squealed.

Regina rolled her eyes but handed you the carton.

You took an egg out and kissed it for good luck.

You swung your arm around twice like you were pitching at the world series and flung it towards his house.

It barreled and barreled before… SHATTER.

It flew through the window breaking the glass into smithereens.

Alarms started to sound from inside the house loudly, surely waking up the Samuels family.

You and Regina shared a bewildered look.

Then, simultaneously, the two of you broke out into hysterical laughter. You tumbled over, grasping your stomach as if it were going to pop.

“Gina—” you got out through giggles and gasps, “We have to go before they come outside.”

Regina pushed through her cackles to point a shaky finger at you, “Don’t,” wheeze, “don’t call me Gina!”

You waved your hand at her, dismissing her request.

You both scurried away as quickly as you could, but it was hard when you were dying of laughter.

When you were finally out of sight from the house, you laid down on the street side by side. You had sobered mostly from your laugh attack, but sometimes you let stray giggles escape.

The sky was beautiful. You couldn’t really see the stars but the airplanes were cool to look at. And the color of the sky… it wasn’t black like it normally was… or maybe it was never black, you never really looked to see. But it was a dark, dark shade of blue, almost navy.

There were clouds, and they were gray. They looked like blotches of spilled paint on a mosaic of the blue night sky.

You turned to Regina, whose face was lit up by the dull moonlight. Your pretty, pretty friend.

Idly, you wondered why in the hell Aaron would break up with her. Sure, she had a mean streak… that she was always in… and sure, she was slightly needy and spoiled, and had little regard for other people’s feelings, and was an actual bully.

But underneath all that was a sensitive, smart, empathetic, beautiful person.

Why were you the only person who Regina showed that side of herself to?

After a couple minutes of laying down and catching your breath, Regina chuckled kiddishly.

“Why was their window so easy to break?” She inquired with a tilt of her head.

You looked over at her and then snorted. “It was like sandpaper.”

She raised her brows. “Sandpaper? What kind of analogy is that?” She said with a snicker.

You started laughing as you searched your brain for reasoning. You were pretty sure you were getting delirious. “Y’know, ‘cause sandpaper’s easy to break!”

“Is it?” She asked with a chuckle, “I mean, I don’t think it would break if you threw an egg through it—!”

Before you could continue debating, the sound of sirens echoed through the streets, getting closer and closer to them. The Samuels’ probably called the police.

That was cue enough that it was time to get out of there, so the two of you stumbled back to Regina’s house, arms linked together and smiles, genuine smiles, on your faces.

~~~

thanks for reading!

taglist: @astromera, @nightcorecarseatheadrest, @purplelollipop

tags:

[darkbackalley]

Party Tricks-Hisoka x Male reader

Warnings: 18+ somewhat dark content, assassination, badly written smut?

Ageless Blogs and Fem aligned blogs DNI

Hisoka x male reader - Party tricks

The room was lit with candles, the scent of smoke pungent in the air. The man behind the desk said nothing as he slid me the beige folder. I said nothing as I picked it up, and turned to leave. I opened the door and the light streamed through, piercing through the darkness. I left the building, stress releasing from the tense hold it had on me. I sighed and continued on my way.I got back to my apartement, and unlocked the door. I threw the folder on my kitchen counter and went to have a shower. Once I had dried off, I headed out to look at it. The folder had an image, as well as an invitation to a party. Tonight. I needed to get there straight away to set up. crap. I hurriedly dressed myself, strapping on all the hidden components I normally wear, and running to my car after I locked my door.It was a high status party. Several of my clientele were mingling amongst themselves, talking and sipping on drinks handed out by servers. I spotted my target across the room, hitting on a server, terribly, might I add. I approached him slowly, deciding to go with my guise of a business partner. As I neared him, I was intercepted by a clown.‘’Good evening sir,’’ He spoke smoothly, his voice like velvet. I clenched my jaw. Hisoka was acutely aware of my reactions and so he pressed on. ‘’My boss would rather you to not approach him tonight. He knows your business deals can get quite… messy.’’ I shot Hisoka a look, and he shut himself up. I knew now that he was probably in contract with my target, and that I'd have to get through him. The thing he didn’t know however, was that I had an extra card up my sleeve.I excused myself from the uncomfortable gaze and walked to the nearest hallway. I took out my phone and sent a text to my friend. Then, I walked back to the clown(magician) and sighed. ‘’Did you hear about the visible man’s wife an kids?’’ Hisoka looked at me in amusement. ‘’No, I haven’t. What about them?’’ ‘’He married an invisible woman…’’ I paused just long enough for him to lean in. ‘’ But let me tell you, their kids weren’t anything to look at, if I’m being honest.’’ Hisoka snorted and looked at me in discontent. ‘’That wasn’t even funny’’ ‘’Yet you still laughed.’’ I latched myself onto hisoka’s arm, giving him a sign that I'd lead him around. I walked us to the hallway I had previously been in, and I pulled him into a room. It looked like an office, but it would have to do. ‘’So…how much did he pay you to be his bodyguard? I thought you didn’t take jobs like that?’’ Hisoka grinned ‘’Oh, I’m not here for a job, I'm just here because I want to be.’’ I looked at him dumbstruck. ‘’So… I-I could’ve just walked… up to him and killed him?’’ Hisoka’s grin got wider with every word I spoke. ‘’In all theories, yes. However, there was a man at the party that was hired as his bodyguard. You know Illumi, correct?’’ I froze. Then I opened my phone to the text I sent earlier.

I need to work tonight, so you're

on your own.

Hey, So I need to distract a mutually

annoying acquaintance. If you can pick

this up for me, I’ll pay you ¾ of the

job, and rights to my next three clients

Got it.

‘’Shit’’ I thought. At this point, it came down to who would pay him more. But then again maybe the idiot had payed Illumi upfront… I was brought back to reality when hisoka’s hand met my face. ‘’You look so cute when you’re thinking, But you’d look even better completely wrecked and under me.’’ He spun me around and held me against the wall, slowly getting closer and closer to my face. His grin had turned into a full-blown smile, mocking my predicament. His face smashed against mine, teeth clashing in a lust-inducing kiss. As we parted for breath, he ripped my shirt off of my body, holding me close to him. Blindly, I groped him, searching for a source of heat or friction. He broke contact to remove the rest of his clothes, and then mine subsequently. as soon as he had, his hands were right back on me. I came to terms with what was going down and slowly started to realize that I probably shouldn’t be doing this. After all, I’m just here to distract hisoka from realizing illumi is going to kill his own client. However, as soon as his hand brushed against the front of my crotch, all sense was thrown out the window. Entangled in each other’s limbs, we moved to the desk, Hisoka sweeping everything off of it before attacking my body once again. I got up to move, to lock the door, but when I moved, I was pushed down onto the desk once more. ‘’I think this will be more exhilarating with the constant threat around the corner. So you better be quiet, little fruit.” I almost screamed at what came next. Without warning, Hisoka pushed his entire length into me. I moaned out in surprise at the sensation of fullness that I felt. His dick hit all the right angles as he thrusted in and out, occasionally hitting my prostate and making me see white. it felt like heaven and hell mixed into one man, who was rearranging my insides. I couldn’t take it anymore. ‘’H-hisokAAAA-’’ I managed to moan out before cumming on my stomach. Hisoka sped up, chasing after his own high. He kept going until he stilled, painting my walls and ass white. Together, we slunk down the side of the desk to a sitting position, Hisoka’s cock still in me. As we sat there in the afterglow of the situation, I looked up at him, and said. ‘’Illumi’s killed the guy.’’ Hisoka looked down with a half-assed smirk and said, ‘’All according to plan.’’

[tommyspeakycap]

hi! can you write some dad!andyrobertson please?! I love your writing so much!! <333 something about him with a daughter please 💕 DILF DILF DILF !

oh he's 100% a dilf - and here you go!

a fathers woe

andy struggles with the prospect of his baby growing up as the little girl asks if she can get married

“Daddy?” Andy heard his daughters sweet little voice, “Can i ask you a question.” Andy knows immediately there is another question set to follow, but he cannot help himself from the typical dad response that falls out his lips before he can stop it. “You just did, love.”

You snigger, shaking your head as you dip the little nail painting brush back into the pot before returning it to your daughters foot to finish painting the last of her toes bright pink per her request. “That’s not funny, daddy.” She scolds, frowning. Andy swallows his laughs, nodding his head and holding his hands up in apology. That seems enough for your daughter, who turns back to her sticker book as Andy and you share a look with silent laughter. “Don’t touch them for five minutes.” You instruct, closing the nail polish and kissing your daughters head.

“Course you can ask me a question, lovely. Go on?” Andy hums after giving you a kick kiss before you disappear upstairs. Andy back to grating cheese over his homemade pizza as he hears his daughter crunch her way through the apple slices in her bowl as she lays on her front on the large marble top of the kitchen island, head propped up by her elbows. “Why did you get married to mummy?” She asks sweetly, not looking up at him as she speaks. Mila continues to colour in her little liverpool colouring book, only occasionally stopping to stick on a coloured or sparkly sticker over Trent Alexander-Arnold’s head. Andy purses his lips, tilting his head slightly in thought as he pushes the two trays of pizza’s into the huge oven.

“Because we love each other very much.” Andy replies casually, shrugging as does. He isn’t exactly sure where the question has come from, but he’s sure he’ll be soon to find out considering she’s very young and doesn’t tend to beat around the bush at all. “Is that all?” She asks curiously. Andy mocks hurt with a quirked eyebrow and a scoff that his daughter doesn’t pick up on. With his back pressed against the kitchen counter and ankles crossed over each other, he observed his little girl with the same level of curiosity she had in her question.

“Well, yeah. People gets married for lots of different reason. Me and your mum wanted to be husband and wife, we love each other very much and there’s lots of…” Andy pauses, trying to think of a way to explain the legal benefits of marriage to Mila without completely confusing her young mind. “Homework.” He concludes, somewhat triumphantly proud of his quick thinking. “Adults have lots of homework to do to buy houses and stuff like that. Sometimes that’s easier too when you’re married.” He tries to explain, watching her nod along. Her reception school homework is nothing difficult of course, but she doesn’t enjoy it and it’s difficult to her, so she grasps the concept generally. “But you should never marry anyone just to make your homework easier.” He adds sternly. “You should only marry someone you love.”

“Okay.” She nods, little eyebrows still furrowed. “So does that mean i can marry-”

“No.” Andy interrupts firmly, standing up straight with an immediate frown set into his features. Mila protests with a pout, “But daddy you didn’t let me finish!”

“Still no.” He retorts, offering her a tight lipped smile. “That’s rude, daddy.” Mila chides, sitting up to cross her legs in a basket and frown at her dad in the very same way he’s frowning at her. “Boys are rude.” Andy quips, “That’s why you should never marry one.”

“Mummy married you?” She challenges, cocking one eyebrow and crossing her little arms.

“That’s different.” Andy brushes off, turning away from his daughter to busy himself with sweeping the grated cheese off the counter with one hand into his other hand to flick it into the bin. “How?” Mila protests, making him roll his eyes with his back to her. She is just like you; persistent, usually right and a true powerhouse. She doesn’t give up easily and she almost never backs down. She’s you with the very best of his flaws sprinkled through. And his volume. She is just as loud as he is, much to your dismay.

“Because me and your mum love each other.” Andy says. “Well i love-”

“No you don’t.”

“Daddy you didn’t let me finish! How do you know?” She argues, clearly getting frustrated a little at her usually very easygoing dad. “Because you’re too young.” He responds, seemingly simply.

“You’re not being very kind, daddy.” She grumbles, evidently irritated. “I’m telling mummy.” She slides to the edge of the island countertop, clambering down onto the her little stool before leaping gracelessly down and running off yelling out for you.

Andy sighs to himself, dropping his head into his hands as he slumps down at the island on one of the comfortable stools. He can hear her voice and yours, but not what either of you are saying until it goes quiet and you both appear again the doorway. The little girl year old holds onto your hand tightly.

“What do we say when we haven’t been very kind, Andy?” You prompt, eyebrows raised and an ever so slightly teasing glint in your eyes that’s barely suppressed on the lips that fight a smirk. “I’m sorry, Mila.” Andy apologises, standing off his seat to crouch down on one knee. “Could i give you a hug to say how sorry i am for not listening to you properly and not answering your questions nicely?”

The little girl nods, letting go of your hands to shuffle over to her dad, allowing him to engulf her little body against his large one, almost completely shrouding her from your view. After a moment, he lifts her up and places her back on the kitchen island where she was sitting.

“Daddy was upset because you’re my little girl and you growing up is scary for me to think about.” He admits, swallowing thickly. You and Andy have been practicing a very honest manor of parenting. You sometimes feel let down by the childhood you had and you want to give her better, making sure she has emotional stability and the opportunity to know she can share her feelings whenever. Mistakes will happen, it’s how we respond to them that is important. You want her to be healthy physically and emotionally. It’s one of the most important parts of being a parent, in your opinion.

“It’s okay.” Mila replies sweetly, pressing a little kiss to his cheek. “I don’t want to marry any boys anyway. Mummy reminded me how gross they are. You’re the only boy i love daddy.” She shrugs, smiling like the little angel she truly is. “Good. Now come here.” Andy pulls her back into his arms, turning to you to give you a wide eyed look and a mouthed ��thank you!”

She wriggles from his arms after he attempted to press kisses all over her and runs off giggling to hide from him elsewhere in the house and probably look for her soft football; the only one that’s allowed indoors after you smashed a lamp with one of Andy’s footballs and both you and Mila agreed to tell him it was the dog who broke said lamp with the football.

“You’re a lifesaver.” Andy groans as he walks towards you, wrapping his arms right around you and he pressing his lips onto yours firmly. “Mhm, i think i bought you a few more months.” You giggle, your nose bumping against his as he laughs along with you. He groans again, burying his head in your shoulder as your hand gently scratches the nape of his neck comfortingly. “Wanna make another?” He mumbles, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder through your hoodie.

“Cheeky bastard,” you jab your thumb into his ribcage slightly, words spoken between gentle laughter as you shake your head. “Seriously though?” He retorts, pulling back a bit to rest both his hands on your waist. He rests his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as he takes in your proximity and natural scent contently. “Let’s make another. We could try for a boy?”

“It doesn’t really work like that.” You giggle, eyes crinkling with your smile. Andy rolls his eyes playfully. “So?” He shrugs, pecking his lips against yours again, “You in?”

You shake your head, pressing your lips against him only broken by your smile. “Course i’m in and oi!” You swat at his wandering hand, dipping beneath the waistband of your leggings, “Not right this second you filthy man!”

Andy throws his head back with a loud, playful groan that’s broken up by his laughter when he heads you giggling before you press a gentle kiss to his exposed neck. “I love you.” You smile, watching his eyes sparkle as he turns his face back to you. “Yeah yeah yeah, i love you too.”

“Rude, daddy!” Mila chimes as she appears in the kitchen again, only having heard the end of he conversation.

“Sorry,” the scolded man retorts, immediately knowing the correction his daughter wants him to make to his prior words to you; “I love you more.”

Mila nods, smiling up at you clearly proud of her intervention for her very adored mother in the name of girl power, bumping her little fist against yours before she turns back to her dad, who wouldn’t change anything about this moment for the world, to give him a very tight lipped response.

“Much better daddy. Don’t let it happen again.”

[bringbackthebastard]

Bring Back the Bastard Daily Prompts

Hello, folks! I'm posting these two weeks before we begin our fest, on September 1st, to give folks some inspiration on what to write each day as we celebrate Severus Snape's pettiest, most dastardly moments. I specifically picked out moments Snaters always harp on, that Snapedom personally enjoys--from any moment with Trevor to bitching at Lupin at Sirius, to the moments that Lily turns away and Dumbledore's face flashes with disgust--sure, he's a bastard, but he's our bastard, and that's what we like about him. You don't want him? Good. We'll keep him. Here are 30 scene prompts for 30 days--it's a long list, pulled chronologically from all seven books, but I found that it reminded me of everything I love about this character. The moments where he's called deranged, the moments where he slips into all-caps, the ugliest moments of the soul. Hope yall enjoy. Excited to kick off the fest starting September 1st, and absolutely excited to see what Snapedom will do. Let's Bring Back the Bastard! The prompts are below the readmore.

Day 1: The Scar Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacheer with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin. It happened very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looked past Quirrell's turban straight into Harry's eyes--and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harry's forehead. "Ouch!" Harry clapped a hand to his head. "What is it?" asked Percy. "N-nothing." The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling Harry had gotten from the teacher's look--a felling that he didn't like Harry at all. "Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" he asked Percy. "Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to--everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."

Day 2: Bad Impressions Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name. "Ah, yes," he said softly. "Harry Potter. Our new--celebrity."

Day 3: Potions Class "Potter!" said Snape suddenly "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of what? Harry glanced at Ron, who looked as stumped as he was; Hermione's hand shot into the air. "I don't know, sir," said Harry. Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Tut, tut--fame clearly isn't everything."

Day 4: A Horrible Sight Snape and Filch were inside, alone. Snape was holding his robes above his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Snape bandages. "Blasted thing," Snape was saying. "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?" Harry tried to shut the door quietly, but-- "POTTER!" Snape's face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to hide his leg. Harry gulped. "I just wondered if I could have my book back." "GET OUT! OUT!"

Day 5: Maybe He's Ill "Hang on..." Harry muttered to Ron. "There's an empty chair at the staff table...Where's Snape?" Professor Severus Snape was Harry's least favorite teacher. Harry also happened to be Snape's least favorite student. Cruel, sarcastic, and disliked by everybody except the students from his own House (Slytherin), Snape taught Potions. "Maybe he's ill!" said Ron hopefully. "Maybe he's left," said Harry, "because he missed out on the Defense Against the Dark Arts job again!" "Or he might have been sacked!" said Ron enthusiastically. "I mean, everyone hates him--" "Or maybe," said a very cold voice right behind them, "he's waiting to hear why you two didn't arrive on the school train."

Day 6: Slytherin Takes the Field "But I booked the field!" said Wood, positively spitting with rage. "But I booked it!" "Ah," said Flint. "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. 'I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker.'"

Day 7: No Quidditch For You! "I suggest, Headmaster, that Potter is not being entirely truthful," he said. "It might be a good idea if he were deprived of certain privileges until he is ready to tell us the whole story. I personally feel he should be taken off the Gryffindor Quidditch team until he is ready to be honest." "Really, Severus," said Professor McGonagall sharply, "I see no reason to stop the boy playing Quidditch. This cat wasn't hit over the head with a broomstick. There is no evidence at all that Potter has done anything wrong." Dumbledore was giving Harry a searching look. His twinkling light-blue gaze made Harry feel as though he were being X-rayed. "Innocent until proven guilty, Severus," he said firmly. Snape looked furious.

Day 8: Expelliarmus! "Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile. "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry--you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!" "Wouldn't it be good if they finished each other off?" Ron muttered in Harry's ear. Snape's upper lip was curling. Harry wondered why Lockhart was still smiling; if Snape had been looking at *him* like that he'd have been running as fast as he could in the opposite direction. Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them. "As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart told the silent crowd. "On the count of three, we will cast our fist spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course." "I wouldn't bet on that," Harry murmured, watching Snape baring his teeth. "One--two--three--" Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent; Snape cried: "Expelliarmus!" There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet. He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.

Day 9: Only Bite Him A Little Bit, Please "Don't move, Potter," said Snape lazily, clearly enjoying the sight of Harry standing motionless, eye to eye with the angry snake. "I'll get rid of it..."

Day 10: Poisoning Trevor The end of the lesson in sight, Snape strode over to Neville, who was cowering by his cauldron. "Everyone gather 'round," said Snape, his black eyes glittering, "and watch what happens to Longbottom's toad. If he has managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, it will shrink to a tadpole. If, as I don't doubt, he has done it wrong, his toad is likely to be poisoned." The Gryffindors watched fearfully. The Slytherins looked excited. Snape picked up Trevor the toad in his left hand and dipped a small spoon into Neville's potion, which was now green. He trickled a few drops down Trevor's throat. There was a moment of hushed silence, in which Trevor gulped; then there was a small op, and Trevor the tadpole was wriggling in Snape's palm. The Gryffindors burst into applause. Snape, looking sour, pulled a small bottle from the pocket of his robe, poured a few drops on top of Trevor, and he reappeared suddenly, fully grown. "Five points from Gryffindor," said Snape, which wiped smiles from every face. "I told you not to help him, Miss Granger. Class dismissed."

Day 11: Insufferable Know-It-All Everyone sat in motionless silence; everyone except Hermione, whose hand, as it so often did, had shot straight into the air. "Anyone?" Snape said, ignoring Hermione. His twisted smile was back. "Are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn't even taught you the basic distinction between--" "We told you," said Parvati suddenly, "we haven't got as far as werewolves yet, we're still on--" "Silence!" snarled Snape. "Well, well, well, I never thought I'd meet a third-year class who wouldn't even recognize a werewolf when they saw one. I shall make a point of informing Professor Dumbledore how very behind you all are..." "Please, sir," said Hermione, whose hand was still in the air, "the werewolf differs from the true wolf in several small ways. The snout of the werewolf--" "That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger," said Snape coolly. "Fire more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all."

Day 12: Your Saintly Father "I would hate for you to run away with a false idea of your father, Potter," he said, a terrible grin twisting his face. "Have you been imagining some act of glorious heroism? Then let me correct you--your saintly father and his friends played a highly amusing joke on me that would have resulted in my death if your father hadn't gotten cold feet at the last moment. There was nothing brave about what he did. He was saving his own skin as much as mine. Had their joke succeeded, he would have been expelled from Hogwarts." Snape's uneven, yellowish teeth were bared.

Day 13: Don't Talk About What You Don't Understand "KEEP QUIET, YOU STUPID GIRL!" Snape shouted, looking suddenly quite deranged. "DON'T TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" A few sparks shot out of the end o his wand, which was still pointed at Black's face. Hermione fell silent. "Vengeance is very sweet," Snape breathed at Black. "How I hoped I would be the one to catch you..." "The joke's on you again, Severus," Black snarled. "As long as this boy brings his rat up to the castle" --he jerked his head at Ron-- "I'll come quietly...." "Up to the castle?" said Snape silkily. "I don't think we need to go that far. All I have to do is call the dementors once we get out of the Willow. They'll be very pleased to see you, Black...pleased enough to give you a little Kiss, I daresay...."

Day 14: A Great Disappointment "He must have Disapparated, Severus. We should have let somebody in the room with him. When this gets out--" "HE DIDN'T DISAPPARATE!" Snape roared, now very close at hand. "YOU CAN'T APPARATE *OR* DISAPPARATE INSIDE THIS CASTLE! THIS--HAS--SOMETHING--TO--DO--WITH--POTTER!" "Severus--be reasonable--Harry has been locked up--" BAM. The door of the hospital wing burst open. Fudge, Snape, and Dumbledore came striding into the ward. Dumbledore alone looked calm. Indeed, he looked as though he was quite enjoying himself. Fudge appeared angry. But Snape was beside himself. "OUT WITH IT, POTTER!" he bellowed. "WHAT DID YOU DO?" "Professor Snape!" shrieked Madam Pomfrey. "Control yourself!" "See here, Snape, be reasonable," said Fudge. "This door's been locked, we just saw--" "THEY HELPED HIM ESCAPE, I KNOW IT!" Snape howled, pointing at Harry and Hermione. His face was twisted; spit was flying from his mouth. "Calm down, man!" Fudge barked. "You're talking nonsense!" "YOU DON'T KNOW POTTER!" shrieked Snape. "HE DID IT, I KNOW HE DID IT--" "That will do, Severus," said Dumbledore quietly. "Think about what you are saying. This door has been locked since I left the war ten minutes ago. Madam Pomfrey, have these students left their beds?" "Of course not!" said Madam Pomfrey, bristling. "I would have heard them!" "Well, there you have it, Severus," said Dumbledore calmly. "Unless you are suggesting that Harry and Hermione are able to be in two places at once, I'm afraid I don't see any point in troubling them further." Snape stood there, seething, staring from Fudge, who looked thoroughly shocked at his behavior, to Dumbledore, whose eyes were twinkling behind his glasses. Snape whirled about, robes swishing behind him, and stormed out of the ward. "Fellow seems quite unbalanced," said Fudge, staring after him. "I'd watch out for him if I were you, Dumbledore." "Oh, he's not unbalanced," said Dumbledore quietly. "He's just suffered a severe disappointment."

Day 15: Haven't You Heard? "Blimey, haven' yeh heard?" said Hagrid, his smile fading a little. He lowered his voice, even though there was nobody in sight. "Er--Snape told all the Slytherins this mornin'....Thought everyone'd know by now...Professor Lupin's a werewolf, see. An' he was loose on the grounds las' night...He's packin' now, o' course."

Day 16: I See No Difference "And what is all this noise about?" said a soft, deadly voice. Snape had arrived. The Slytherins clamored to give their explanations; Snape pointed a long yellow finger at Malfoy and said, "Explain." "Potter attacked me, sir--" "We attacked each other at the same time!" Harry shouted. "--and he hit Goyle--look--" Snape examined Goyle, whose face now resembled something that would have been at home in a book on poisonous fungi. "Hospital wing, Goyle," Snape said calmly. "Malfoy got Hermione!" Ron said. "Look!" He forced Hermione to show Snape her teeth--she was doing her best to hide them with her hands, though this was difficult as they had now grown down past her collar. Pansy Parkinson and the other Slytherin girls were doubled up with silent giggles, pointing at Hermione from behind Snape's back. Snape looked coldly at Hermione, then said, "I see no difference."

Day 17: The Dark Mark Snape strode forward, past Dumbledore, pulling up the left sleeve of his robes as he went. He struck out his forearm and showed it to Fudge, who recoiled. "There," said Snape harshly. "There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side. This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff's too. Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord's vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eater to be sure of a welcome back into the fold."

Day 18: If You Are Ready...If You Are Prepared... "Severus," said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, "you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready...if you are prepared..." "I am," said Snape. He looked slightly paler than usual, and his cold, black eyes glittered strangely. "Then good luck," said Dumbledore, and he watched, with a trace of apprehension on his face, as Snape swept wordlessly after Sirius.

Day 19: Obviously "Now...how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" she asked, her quill poised over her clipboard. "Fourteen years," Snape replied. His expression was unfathomable. His eyes on Snape, Harry added a few drops to his potion; it hissed menacingly and turned from turquoise to orange. "You applied first for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?" Professor Umbridge asked Snape. "Yes," said Snape quietly. "But you were unsuccessful?" Snape's lip curled. "Obviously." Professor Umbridge scribbled on her clipboard. "And you have applied regularly for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?" "Yes," said Snape quietly, barely moving his lips. He looked very angry. "Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?" asked Umbridge. "I suggest you ask him," said Snape jerkily. "Oh I shall," said Professor Umbridge with a sweet smile. "I suppose this is relevant?" Snape asked, his black eyes narrowed. "Oh yes," said Professor Umbridge. "Yes, the Ministry wants a thorough understanding of teachers'--er--backgrounds...." She turned away, walked over to Pansy Parkinson, and began questioning her about the lessons. Snape looked around at Harry and their eyes met for a second. Harry hastily dropped his gaze to his potion, which was now congealing foully and giving off a strong smell of burned rubber. "No marks again, then, Potter," said Snape maliciously, emptying Harry's cauldron with a wave of his wand. "You will write me an essay on the correct composition of this potion, indicating how and why you went wrong, to be handed in next lesson, do you understand?"

Day 20: Very Like His Father "How touching," Snape sneered. "But surely you have noticed that Potter is very like his father?" Yes, I have," said Sirius proudly. "Well then, you'll know he's so arrogant that criticism simply bounces off him," Snape said sleekly. Sirius pushed his chair roughly aside and strode around the table toward Snape, pulling out his wand as he went; Snape whipped out his own. They were squaring up to each other, Sirius looking livid, Snape calculating, his eyes darting from Sirius' wand-tip to his face. "Sirius!" said Harry loudly, but Sirius appeared not to hear him. "I've warned you, Snivellus," said Sirius, his face barely a foot from Snape's, "I don't care if Dumbledore thinks you've reformed, I know better." "Oh, but why don't you tell him so?" whispered Snape. "Or are you afraid he might not take the advice of a man who has been hiding inside his mother's house for six months very seriously?" "Tell me, how is Lucius Malfoy these days? I expect he's delighted his lapdog's working at Hogwarts, isn't he?" "Speaking of dogs," said Snape softly, "did you know that Lucius Malfoy recognized you last time you risked a little jaunt outside? Clever idea, Black, getting yourself seen on a safe station platform...gave you a cast-iron excuse not to leave your hidey-hole in future, didn't it?" Sirius raised his wand. "NO!" Harry yelled, vaulting over the table and trying to get in between them, "Sirius, don't--" "Are you calling me a coward?" roared Sirius, trying to push Harry out of the way, but Harry would not budge. "Why, yes, I suppose I am," said Snape.

Day 21: Wormtail's Whine "We...we are alone, aren't we?" Narcissa asked quietly. "Yes, of course. Well, Wormtail's here, but we're not counting vermin, are we?" He pointed his wand at the wall of books behind him and with a bang, a hidden door flew open, revealing a narrow staircase upon which a small man stood frozen. "As you have clearly realized, Wormtail, we have guests," said Snape lazily. The man crept, hunchbacked, down the last few steps and moved into the room. He had small, watery eyes, a pointed nose, and wore an unpleasant simper. His left hand was caressing his right, which looked as though it was encased in a bright silver glove. "Narcissa!" he said, in a squeaky voice. "And Bellatrix! How charming--" "Wormtail will get us drinks, if you'd like them," said Snape. "And then he will return to his bedroom." Wormtail winced as though Snape had thrown something at him. "I am not your servant!" he squeaked, avoiding Snape's eyes. "Really? I was under the impression that the Dark Lord placed you here to assist me." "To assist, yes--but not to make you drinks and--clean your house!" "I had no idea, Wormtail, that you were craving more dangerous assignments," said Snape silkily. "This can be easily arranged: I shall speak to the Dark Lord--" "I can speak to him if I want to!" "Of course you can," said Snape, sneering. "But in the meantime, bring us drinks. Some of the elf-made wine will do."

Day 22: A Loving Caress Snape set off around the edge of the room, speaking now in a lower voice; the class craned their necks to keep him in view. "The Dark Arts," said Snape, "are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible." Harry stared at Snape. It was surely one thing to respect the Dark Arts as a dangerous enemy, another to speak of them, as Snape was doing, with a loving caress in his voice? "Your defenses," said Snape, a little louder, "must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo. These pictures" --he indicated a few of them as he swept past-- "give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse" --he waved a hand toward a witch who was clearly shrieking in agony-- "feel the Dementor's Kiss" --a wizard lying huddled and blank-eyed, slumped against a wall-- "or provoke the aggression of the Inferius" --a bloody mass upon the ground.

Day 23: Better People "What does it matter?" said Malfoy. "Defense Against the Dark Arts--it's all just a joke, isn't it, an act? Like an of us need protecting against the Dark Arts--" "It is an act that is crucial to success, Draco!" said Snape. "Where do you think I would have been all these years, if I had not known how to act? Now listen to me! You are being incautious, wandering around at night, getting yourself caught, and if you are placing your reliance in assistants like Crabbe and Goyle--" "They're not the only ones, I've got other people on my side, better people!" "Then why not confide in me, and I can--" "I know what you're up to! You want to steal my glory!" There was another pause, then Snape said coldly, "You are speaking like a child. I quite understand that your father's capture and imprisonment has upset you, but--"

Day 24: Revulsion and Hatred Etched on His Face "Severus..." The sound frightened Harry beyond anything he had experienced all evening. For the first time, Dumbledore was pleading. Snape said nothing, but walked forward and pushed Malfoy roughly out of the way. The three Death Eaters fell back without a word. Even the werewolf seemed cowed. Snape gazed for a moment at Dumbledore, and there was revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face. "Severus...please..." Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore. "Avada Kedavra!"

Day 25: Don't Call Me Coward Mustering all his powers of concentration, Harry thought, Levi-- "No, Potter!" screamed Snape. There was a loud BANG and Harry was soaring backward, hitting the ground hard again, and this time his wand flew out of his hand. He could hear Hagrid yelling and Fang howling as Snape closed in and looked down on him where he lay, wandless and defenseless as Dumbledore had been. Snape's pale face, illuminated by the flaming cabin, was suffused with hatred just as it had been before he had cursed Dumbledore. "You dare use my own spells against me, Potter? It was I who invented them--I, the Half-Blood Prince! And you'd turn my inventions on me, like your filthy father, woudl you? I don't think so...no!" Harry had dived for his wand; Snape shot a hex at it and it flew feet away into the darkness and out of sight. "Kill me then," panted Harry, who felt no fear at all, but only rage and contempt. "Kill me like you killed him, you coward--" "DON'T--" screamed Snape, and his face was suddenly deranged, inhuman, as though he was in as much pain as the yelping, howling dog stuck in the burning house behind them-- "CALL ME COWARD!"

Day 26: The Guest Voldemort raised Lucius Malfoy's wand, pointed it directly at the slowing revolving figure suspended over the table, and gave it a tiny flick. The figure came to life with a groan and began to struggle against invisible bonds. "Do you recognize our guest, Severus?" asked Voldemort. Snape raised his eyes to the upside-down face. All of the Death Eaters were looking up at the captive now, as thought they had been given permission to show curiosity. As she revolved to face the firelight, the woman said in a cracked and terrified voice, "Severus! Help me!" "Ah, yes," said Snape as the prisoner turned slowly away again.

Day 27: I Regret It "All this long night, when I am on the brink of victory, I have sat here," said Voldemort, his voice barely louder than a whisper, "wondering, wondering why the Elder Wand refuses to be what it ought to be, refuses to perform as legend says it must perform for its rightful owner...and I think I have the answer." Snape did not speak. "Perhaps you already know it? You are a clever man, after all, Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen." "My Lord--" "The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner. You killed Albus Dumbledore. While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot be truly mine." "My Lord!" Snape protested, raising his wand. "It cannot be any other way," said Voldemort. "I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand, and I master Potter at last." And Voldemort swiped the air with the Elder Wand. It did nothing to Snape, who for a split second seemed to think he had been reprieved: But then Voldemort's intention became clear. The snake's cage was rolling through the air, and before Snape could do anything more than yell, it had encased him, head and shoulders, and Voldemort spoke in Parseltongue. "Kill." There was a terrible scream. Harry saw Snape's face losing the little color it had left; it whitened as his black eyes widened, as the snake's fangs pierced his neck, as he failed to push the enchanted cage off himself, as his knees gave way and he fell to the floor. "I regret it," said Voldemort coldly.

Day 28: You Hurt Her! "Tuney!" said Lily, surprise and welcome in her voice, but Snape had jumped to his feet. "Who's spying now?" he shouted. "What d'you want?" Petunia was breathless, alarmed at being caught. Harry could see her struggling for something hurtful to say. "What is that you're wearing, anyway?" she said, pointing at Snape's chest. "Your mum's blouse?" There was a *crack*. A branch over Petunia's head had fallen. Lily screamed: The branch caught Petunia on the shoulder, and she staggered backward and burst into tears. "Tuney!" But Petunia was running away. Lily rounded on Snape. "Did you make it happen?" "No." He looked both defiant and scared. "You did!" She was backing away from him. "You *did*! You hurt her!" "No--no I didn't!" But the lie did not convince Lily: After one last burning look, she ran from the little thicket, off after her sister, and Snape looked miserable and confused....

Day 29: Save Your Breath "I'm sorry." "I'm not interested." "I'm sorry!" "Save your breath." It was nighttime. Lily, who was wearing a dressing gown, stood with her arms folded in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, at the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. "I only came out because Mary told me you were threatening to sleep here." "I was. I would have done. I never meant to call you Mudblood, it just--" "Slipped out?" There was no pity in Lily's voice. "It's too late. I've made excuses for you for years. None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. You and your precious little Death Eater friends--you see, you don't even deny it! You don't even deny that's what you're all aiming to be! You can't wait to join You-Know-Who, can you?" He opened his mouth, but closed it without speaking. "I can't pretend anymore. You've chosen your way, I've chosen mine." "No--listen, I didn't mean--" "--to call me Mudblood? But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus. Why should I any different?" He struggled on the verge of speech, but with a contemptuous look she turned and climbed back through the portrait hole....

Day 30: Anything "If she means so much to you," said Dumbledore, "surely Lord Voldemort will spare her? Could you not ask for the mother, in exchange for the son?" "I have--I have asked him--" "You disgust me," said Dumbledore, and Harry had never heard so much contempt in his voice. Snape seemed to drink a little. "You do not care, then, about the deaths of her husband and child? They can die, as long as you have what you want?" Snape said nothing, but merely looked up at Dumbledore. "Hide them all, then," he croaked. "Keep her--them--safe. Please." "And what will you give me in return, Severus?" "In--in return?" Snape gaped at Dumbledore, and Harry expected him to protest, but after a long moment he said, "Anything."

[animeomegas]

What do you think about iruka’s alpha coming into the picture after he’s adopted naruto already?

@queenondeezmatatas : Omg monarch I was just thinking, let’s say that iruka adopted naruto when naruto was around 3 or 4, and then when his alpha comes around when naruto is around 12 like in the anime, and they start getting together etc. I can imagine iruka getting worried about letting this person into his family and everything that comes with that, so when naruto expresses his approval of this alpha that iruka really likes he’s just like🥺🥺 and imagine some time later, the first time naruto calls you his parent as well🥺🥺ugh I’m soft🥰🥰🥰

(Hmm, well let’s say Naruto was adopted when he was 8, because that’s when Iruka would have turned 18 and been able to adopt him legally, and now he’s just turned 12, but yes, this is a very interesting idea! Iruka absolutely gets worried about everything to do with this and it's so cute! Let’s see!)

The main difference is that Iruka is a lot more cautious when dating or courting any alphas if he already has custody of Naruto because he knows how the general population feel about him. No one is meeting Naruto for months at least, they aren’t allowed anywhere near Iruka’s house, and Iruka will put up with no disparaging remarks about Naruto, none at all.

But let’s say that everything has been going amazingly between Iruka and a new alpha. This alpha is perfect for Iruka is every way, and, from their discussions at least, they seem to have no problem with Naruto.

But Iruka is still terrified of introducing them. Because it’s one thing to not say anything bad about Naruto to Iruka's face and it’s another thing to help raise him. Iruka is so in love, and he doesn’t want to lose this alpha… But he will if they can’t handle Naruto. Naruto is his first priority, always.

Much sooner than he’d like, the fateful meeting day is upon him.

He’s inviting his alpha over to his house for dinner for the first time (to eat takeaway Ichiraku ramen because Iruka’s cooking sadly leaves much to be desired), and Naruto is joining you both after he’s finished his D ranks for the day.

…

You watch as Iruka nervously plates up the takeaway ramen into fancier dishes and tries to set the table for three. He’s already dropped the cutlery multiple times and smashed a glass in the sink.

“Iruka, here,” you say, taking the next batch of cutlery out of his hands and moving to carefully start setting the table. “Don’t be nervous, everything will be fine.”

Iruka gives you a shaky breath and a smile.

“I know, I’m just…”

“Nervous?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “That. It’s just that Naruto wasn’t happy when I told him I was courting someone, and I don’t want him to be upset or feel replaced or anything. He hasn’t said it in a long time, but I know he’s often worried that one day I’ll get tired of him and abandon him.”

You finish setting the table before you step forward and pull Iruka into an embrace.

“He sounds like a good kid,” you say firmly, rubbing your thumbs on Iruka’s hips. “And I’m sure we’ll get along just fine. And don’t think I haven’t noticed how nervous you are about how I’ll react to Naruto, too.”

Iruka jumps, blushing somewhat at being called out so directly, but before he can defend himself you hold up a hand to stop him.

“I don’t blame you for being nervous, ‘Ruka, I think it’s admirable, and not to mention sexy, how protective you are” you reassure and Iruka hits you lightly on the arm for the sexy comment. “I’m just trying to let you know that you have nothing to worry about, I’m not so closed minded as to blame a child for events that happened when he was a baby.”

“I know, I know, I’m just…”

“Nervous?”

“Shut up.”

…

Dinner had gone better than expected. Iruka’s idea of distracting Naruto with ramen had worked like a charm at lowering his defences and allowing for Iruka’s son and the person who he hoped would one day be his mate to start bonding.

Things weren’t perfect, Iruka could tell that Naruto was nervous about being replaced by this new person, and he’d never been the best at sharing Iruka’s attention (it had made the teaching Naruto’s class at the academy something of a challenge at times.)

But Iruka was now sure of his choice in alpha. They truly were perfect!

They had spoken to Naruto with only the kindest and most patient of voices, they had understood his boundaries and never pushed them, they didn’t hold the Kyuubi against him, and they appeared to be both dedicated to helping raise Naruto and also respectful of Iruka’s final say as Naruto’s father. They had taken every one of his concerns about them and obliterated them from his mind.

Iruka felt giddy.

He just had to make sure Naruto was feeling okay after everything this evening. He had been pretty enthusiastic in the middle, eager to have the attention and affection from someone new, but when he’d walked in on Iruka and his soon-to-be alpha kissing goodbye in the doorway, some of the enthusiasm and left him and Iruka couldn’t figure out what was going on in his head.

…

“Hey, you ready for bed?” Iruka asks softly, stepping into Naruto’s bright orange room without so much of a wince (practice after many years.)

“Mhmm,” Naruto hums affirmatively. He’s laying on his bed in his pyjamas, half-heartedly packing up his weaponry ready for training tomorrow.

“I know that must have been a lot,” Iruka tries to bring up this evening carefully as he perches on the bed next to Naruto. “How are you feeling?”

Naruto shrugs but Iruka can see that he has something to say.

“What is it, Naruto? You can tell me, this is your home too, you always have a say,” Iruka says, hoping beyond hope that Naruto hasn’t decided he hates Iruka’s partner.

“Will you get mated?”

“I-“ Iruka hesitates but tries to answer honestly. “Probably, if you’re okay with it and everything goes well.”

Naruto considers that answer for a moment before continuing.

“And then you’ll have pups, right? That’s what people do when they get mated, Sakura-chan said so.”

“It’s what some people do,” Iruka gently corrects. “And… I’m not sure yet, maybe, maybe not. Is that something you would want? A sibling?”

“They’d be my sibling?” Naruto asks, surprised. “But I’m…”

“You’re my pup, Naruto, that’s what you are,” Iruka says firmly and with no room for argument. He pulls Naruto in for a hug and Naruto immediately accepts the affection. He had always been a tactile person, and hugs were a good method for calming him down. “Any other children I may or may not have will be equally as important as you, and I will love them just as much as I love you, no more and no less.”

“Do you promise?” Naruto asks, voice muffled by Iruka’s shoulder. Naruto grips the back of Iruka’s shirt tightly in an effort to elongate the embrace.

“I promise,” Iruka says fiercely.

Iruka holds to embrace, wanting to let Naruto decide when to break it. And he doesn’t for several minutes, so Iruka just rocks him slightly, stroking his hair and placing kisses on the top of his head. Naruto’s insecurities are not unexpected, but they still break Iruka’s heart every time he’s confronted with them.

“Okay,” Naruto says eventually, pulling away from the hug a little. “Then I approve.”

“What?”

“I approve,” Naruto says again, firmly and with a determined glint in his eyes. “They’re nice and they like ramen and they… they make you smile and I’m going to be going on long and dangerous missions soon to protect princesses, so I won’t be able to make you smile all the time. They can do it for me.”

“Oh, Naruto,” Iruka can’t stop his eyes filling up with tears as he pulls Naruto back in for another embrace. His pup was so selfless and caring, how did he get so lucky?

“It’s okay, dad, don’t cry,” Naruto rushes to reassure, but apparently it’s the wrong thing to say because the second Iruka hears Naruto say ‘dad’, the tears double.

“I love you so much, Naruto,” Iruka says tearfully. “More than anything else in this world, you know that?”

Naruto laughs tearfully.

“Me too, dad, I love you more than anything.”

[merakiui]

hello!!<3 can i request an angst scenario (it can have a happy ending it's up to you!!) childe x fem!reader where they are together for some time and she didn't know he's fatui (she hates them bc her parents were in debt and overall they ruined her life and he's too scared to tell her) but she finds out and wants to broke up?? THANK YOU

In which you discover Childe’s ties to the Fatui.

cw: angst, debt, small mention of depression as a result of debt, female reader note - I woke up and chose pain with this one. >:) it also got long;;; oops!

You hate the Fatui. And although that’s such a strong, hurtful word it's your true feelings. You’ve never experienced their wrath firsthand, but you have witnessed what it can do to people. Your sweet, loving parents, who took loans out of the bank in order to pay for repairs to their shop, were reduced to frightful messes at the mere mention of that harrowing F-word.

It’s horrible to see them in such a state, especially since a few agents had come by once and practically demanded the money. As a result of such a distasteful discussion, you refuse to go into any sort of monetary career: trader, merchant, and even a wandering saleswoman. You’ll find a way to make things right by getting a job that will bring in lots of riches for your poor parents. Then the Fatui will have no choice but to leave your family alone.

Your own funds have dried up, having gone into another Fatui agent’s gloved hands. You can’t even argue because you have an inkling as to what will happen when you finally run out of money to give. Ever since this entire debt charade, your parents have become hollow shells of their former selves: paranoid, depressed, and starved of the happiness that comes with being in a regular, debt-free family.

Childe tunes into your rant as if someone had just turned on the switch that designates his listening skills. The two of you are sitting on a lovely hilltop, watching the stars twinkle in and out of focus. Liyue Harbor can be seen from afar, glittering in warm colors of gold and red. If Childe remembers correctly, another festival should be right around the corner. He’ll have to take you when he finds time to slink away from his work.

Speaking of his work, he’s never actually told you about it. When you asked, he simply said it was a job that allowed him to travel. It sounded like a traveling merchant to you—perhaps even a fishmonger specializing in exotic types—considering he was seemingly loaded with Mora. It made you jealous that he was so well-off with his finances, but you couldn’t complain when he so readily emptied his pockets for your sake.

“And then that stupid agent shows up at our door right when I get home! It’s the worst timing ever. My parents were pretending to be out of the house and I showed up and ruined their plan.” A heavy sigh tumbles from your lips as you flop back onto the grass, where Childe fixes you with a lopsided, sympathetic grin. “I hate it. They’re not even themselves anymore. It’s like they lost all sense of life. I’m picking up as many commissions as I can, but it doesn’t even help. The Fatui just take it all faster than I can save it.”

“They’re the worst, aren’t they?”

“And the sky isn’t blue. Of course they’re the worst!” You inhale softly. “No use getting mad about something that already happened, though.”

“You’ll just give yourself more stress and you don’t need that.” He joins you on the plush grass, turning his head to look at you rather than up at the inky night sky. “I can help with your commissions, you know. I’ve been itching to smash some hilichurl camps.”

“I can handle it myself. It’s fine.” Only it’s not and you’ve started realizing that. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Funny. I was going to ask you something, too!”

“Oh. Uh...”

He chuckles, staring at you with blue eyes that don’t sparkle. “There’s this festival coming up and I wanted to take you. It’ll be just the two of us for one night. You can forget all about work and money—”

“What about you? You said your job has you traveling all over the place. That’s why we’ll rarely see each other in the future. Once you’re done here in Liyue, that is.” You move onto your side, holding yourself up on your elbow. “I don’t think it’ll work.”

“Well, my boss doesn’t have to know. It’ll be our tiny secret!”

You roll your eyes, smiling a little. Deep inside you’ve always felt like something was off about his story. For the past few months, he’s remained in Liyue and once you even caught him slipping into Northland Bank when you were running some errands. You hope he isn’t in a similar situation concerning debt and poverty. No, he wouldn’t need to be. He’s shown you just how many lavish things his funds can afford. Why would he be in debt if he has a stable job?

“Are you...doing something bad?”

You could’ve phrased that better, but it’s already out in the open now. Sheepishly, you avoid his befuddled stare, opting to watch the moon as its light becomes obscured behind a dark cloud. An airy chuckle escapes him, but he doesn’t say anything. His silence confirms your fears and it dawns upon you that he hasn’t been truthful this entire time.

“This mask.” It’s in your hands before he can stop you. You’re tapping at it with a finger, equal parts curious and apprehensive. You refuse to beat around the bush; your doubtful gaze catches his and it hardens at once. “You’re Fatui, aren’t you?”

He sits up calmly, holding out his hand. “That’s quite the accusation, my dear. Let’s not jump to conclusions.”

“I’m not jumping to any conclusion. I’m right, aren’t I?” Now you’re sitting up, staggering to your feet to find some sort of leverage over him. He’s taller than you and far more powerful than he once let on. “Childe, why would—“

He sighs, lowering his hand out of defeat. “I suppose there’s no point avoiding it now. You were bound to find out one of these days.”

“One of these days? What? Like, when my family’s on the streets because the Fatui took our house?”

It hurts that he wasn’t honest and it hurts even more knowing that he has the power to help. He could’ve spent his time working out ways to get you out of debt, yet he decided to shower you in affection and useless trinkets! Trinkets that are only good for selling and receiving money to pay off the debt. You could cry; that’s how much it hurts. And when he makes no solid effort to comfort you, the tears begin to form.

“Of course not. I’d never let that happen!”

“Then why would you lie about it? Why not help me? Why can’t you just be honest? You always avoid questions you don’t want to answer and I hate it! I’ve been with you long enough to know that that mask is bad news. I was just waiting for you to confirm it, but you didn’t.”

You think it’s selfish for wanting his help—for wanting help from a Fatui agent, no less—but you’re too upset to care.

“(Name), you know that’s—“

“What else haven’t you told me? What else have you lied about? I don’t care if you’re trying to protect me. I’m already on a list. The Fatui still show up to my house and you just...let them. Why?”

“If I interfered, it would look bad in front of Her Majesty. You know I can’t go against her orders. I want to help you—I do. But...”

You’re fumbling for new words, at a complete loss with yourself. No matter how many questions you spout, he’ll evade them like they’re optional. And even if you want answers and honesty more than anything right now, you know he’ll fail to provide it. You shove the mask into his hands, shaking your head in disbelief. A swell of emotions overcome you: sadness, anger, and regret. You feel utterly betrayed. The sweet Childe, whom you once thought was your perfect match, is working for the Fatui—the people who have turned your life into misery.

And that’s probably not even the half of it.

“Let’s break up,” you say before he can spin another false tale. Another easy excuse to avoid this downfall. Childe stops short to stare at you in surprise and it’s weird to see that emotion scrawled across his face. He’s usually smooth and collected; he always knows what to say and how to act. Not this time, though. “It’s not going to work if we’re together while the Fatui are hounding my parents. And they wouldn’t approve of our relationship either.”

“Now, (Name), wait a moment. You’re not thinking straight. You’re just—” He struggles to find the correct words and in that small moment between foggy clarity and paralyzing uncertainty he plasters another plastic smile on. “Look. I know you’re upset, but I didn’t mean to lie to you. I was going to tell you eventually. Just had to find the right time to do it, you know?"

“I know. And that’s why we should go our separate ways.” Like Childe, you also put on a faux show, building up your walls as high and strong as his are. You don’t think you’ll last another minute in his presence, as you’re far too close to tears. “Thank you again for tonight. I’ll take my leave now.”

Rather than pain, it’s bitter when your lips fall upon his soft cheek. And the gesture stings harder than a slap on the wrist. 

The searing pain returns when you pull away and begin the descent from the hill as fast as your trembling legs will allow. You refuse to look back and fall into his arms in hopes that he’ll reassure you. The fact that he doesn’t chase after you—doesn’t even call out—stabs your conflicted heart and it’s more than enough confirmation. Childe isn’t exactly boyfriend material. He’s callous when it comes to a battle and he’s driven by his own ulterior motives. Surely this relationship was just a means of spending his extra time when he found himself bored and lacking a fight. Maybe he thought of his work when the two of you were on secretive dates. Maybe his heart was empty when the two of you were intimate. Maybe you were just the glue holding this crumbling bond together.

Childe remains on that hilltop, watching you disappear into the distance. And it’s then when realizes he’s lost you. The feeling is different from the battlefield and it’s far more real than when he’s snooping around as a Harbinger. You’re just a normal, good-natured citizen and he...ruined that part of you. With his ties to an enemy that has crushed your family. He’s partly, if not fully, responsible for what transpired just now and for the first time in a while real guilt gnaws at him. He’s left wondering why he did all of that—why he couldn’t just face your questions head-on.

It’s his fault, isn’t it?

On that windy hilltop, under the silent, disapproving darkness of the sky, he’s left to pick up the pieces of a fractured relationship. And it’s all because he couldn’t admit the truth to his precious girlfriend.

In a way, the Fatui have taken something from him, too, and he’s not sure if he’ll be able to patch it up with honeyed promises. 

Looks like we won’t be going to that festival anytime soon...

[kiribaku-queen]

Heyyyy. So i was thinking a out mafia au fic like where kuroo is a mafia leader and youre his gf. Somehow, while his group were in a war, u got kidnapped which made him furious ofc and whiel saving u and trying to escape, u saw someone trying to shoot hima nd u go ahead and sheild him which made u got shoot. Its a angst but a hppy ending. Ill let u do what kind of ending u want 😁 anyway congrats and hv a great day!

Beginnings of a War

Angst

Kuroo x reader

Word Count: 3.5K

TRIGGER WARNING: violence, gun mentioned, blood

A/N: I had so much fun writing this piece and I literally couldn't wait to start this one! I thought of this Bokuto when writing this piece because I can't get enough of him

Happy reading and I'd love to know your thoughts!

The tension in the room was uneasy as the two leaders from opposite gangs stared each other down, neither saying a word. There was no easy conclusion to their mess but the longer they sat there, the more impatient both parties got. Yet, Kuroo was never one to give up easily. He was persistent and determined. Meanwhile, the two-toned haired man who goes by Bokuto was notorious for always getting his way. Right now, they were both stuck in the middle. Kuroo leans back on the black, leather couch, resting both arms behind the back.

“That’s my final bet. Take it or leave it. You either release him and take the money, or we’re gonna have some trouble,” Kuroo finally spoke up. Bokuto slants his eyes at him, clearly not persuaded by his offer.

“You’re a good comedian if you think I’m going to release one of your men for that small amount. After what he did to ten of my men?” Bokuto was trying to place the blame on the other leader but that only made Kuroo’s eyebrow twitch in annoyance.

“Your men attacked his family and his girl, leaving her in a hospital. If anything, your men deserved everything coming to them,” Kuroo set him straight. Even though Bokuto knew that, he knew that his men were in the wrong, he still had to protect them. So his comment visibly upset him as he slammed his fists down on the glass table in front of him, almost causing it to break if he hit any harder.

“I don’t give a shit what my boys did. All I care about is what your men did to mine,” he stated clearly. By now, Kuroo was getting a headache.

“Then what do you want? You don’t want the money, you don’t want anything else I offered. Stop beating around the bush and tell me what you want!” he grew impatient and raised his voice. Before Bokuto had a chance to open his mouth, the double doors behind him flew wide open and in you came, eyes only on your boyfriend as you walk towards him. Sexy and sultry-like, you come to greet your boyfriend after a long day of shopping, not paying attention to his special guest. But he was paying close attention to you.

The click of your heels meeting the floor caught the attention of all the men in the room. You loved it when all the attention was on you because you knew. You knew you were attractive. You had the confidence, the walk, the clothes, the attitude. Everything a girl boss should have. Even though eyes were on you at all times of the day, only one man caught your attention and you would do anything for him.

Striding towards the mafia boss who was clearly in the middle of an important meeting, you made your way into his lap. You made yourself comfortable, touching the back of his hair before pulling him in for a steamy kiss. The kiss was slow and deliberate. You made sure to taste every part of him, your tongue gliding against his, purposely biting his lips ever so slightly. You kissed him like there was no one else in the room. But little did you know, Bokuto was looking you up and down, clear interest written all over his face.

You pulled away with a soft hum, satisfied to be with your boyfriend again. Kuroo, who was annoyed, is now smitten with you. He has, and always will have, a soft spot for you and isn’t afraid to show it.

“I’m a little busy, sweetheart,” Kuroo mumbled against your lips, lost in your eyes, your taste, your smell, your everything.

“I just missed you, daddy,” you cooed with a pout.

“Alright, I’m almost done,” he promises. He puts a protective hand over your waist and you wait in his lap like the good girl you were until he was done with his meeting. Kuroo focuses his attention back to his guest, acting like that whole interaction didn’t happen.

“What do you want?” Kuroo asks again. This time, Bokuto locks eyes with you and you just give him an innocent look that makes Bokuto obsessed.

“Her.” He points to you. That shocks both you and your boyfriend. You didn’t know what was going on, maybe because you just forced your way into their conversation, but you could tell that Kuroo wasn’t very fond of his answer. His hand tightens on your waist.

“She’s off limits,” he almost growls. Now that’s a voice you haven’t heard in a hot minute.

“Then the deals off,” Bokuto says simply, leaning back while shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. Kuroo slants his eyes and gives you a few soft taps to your butt.

“Go upstairs,” he demands. You know by the tone of his voice that he was upset and you knew not to talk back. Last time you did that, you couldn’t walk for two weeks. And that was… so long ago that you can’t even remember. So you immediately got up and walked out of there, but Bokuto still had his eyes on you.

When you left the room and completely out of sight, Kuroo sits back and crosses his legs. He lets out a deep sigh and glides his tongue across the inside of his cheek in annoyance. He didn’t understand why Bokuto wanted you all of a sudden, out of all people, but there was no way in hell he was giving you away.

“I’ll give you anything you want. Tell me and I’ll give it to you. You want the money? Fine. Take it. You want a woman? I’ll find you one who can’t resist you. Name your price, but she’s my woman,” Kuroo made things clear with the man across from him.

“I’m not leaving until I get her,” Bokuto was set on having you, taking you and making you his. Kuroo uncrosses his legs and leans forward on his knees.

“Oi. Can you fucking hear? I said she was off limits.” Bokuto copies his movements.

“Does it look like I give two fucks? If you want one of your men back, give me the girl,” he compromises. Kuroo clenches his jaw and leans back.

“Then there’s nothing to discuss. Leave.” Kuroo glares at him. And that was asking him nicely. But Bokuto lets out a loud chuckle.

“You’re gonna let a bitch get in the way of your men?” the mafia boss taunted. And boy, did it work.

“Do you want to die?” Kuroo asked through gritted teeth, a vein clearly visible on his forehead from how much anger he was trying to hold in.

“Is that a threat?” Bokuto turned serious, all jokes out the window.

“No. but this is,” he says, standing up and pulling a gun out of the inside of his jacket pocket and points in straight in his opponent’s face. With his fast reflexes, Bokuto saw it coming and also took his gun out. So now both men had guns pointed in their faces, neither of them moving. Just glares being exchanged.

“Tsk, tsk. Now is that how you persuade an old friend?” Bokuto shook his head in disappointment.

“Friend? More like business partner,” Kuroo corrected him. They had a silent face off. Pointing dangerous weapons at each other but neither wanting to pull the trigger first. Bokuto thought this was exciting. He laughs, spins his gun with his finger and places it back in his pocket. He turns around, looking unfazed by the whole situation and simply leaves. Somewhat relieved, Kuroo also puts away his gun and cautiously watches the other boss leave. Bokuto stops right as he’s about to step through the door to give Kuroo a wary warning.

“You better be careful. I always get what I want,” he said before making his disappearance.

You were waiting patiently in your shared bedroom, swinging your feet around with a pout on your face. You didn’t know what you walked in to, but it didn’t seem good from the looks of it. Kuroo looked so serious down there, you thought to yourself. But your mind wandered to naughty thoughts because you loved seeing him like that, even though the situation doesn’t call for it. He just looks so sexy what he’s serious.

Kuroo opens the door to the bedroom and before you could say anything to him or greet him, he smashes your lips together without any explanation. You were surprised by his actions but you kiss him back nonetheless. From the way his lips move against yours, you could tell that he was in a bad mood. Your lips were too smushed and teeth were rubbing against each other, so much that he was starting to hurt you. Kuroo moves on to attack your neck and then you were finally able to breath.

“Kuroo,” you whined, still short of breath. He ignores you and instead starts to suck on your supple skin, creating bruises of all kinds of sizes on your neck. He grabs your face again, smashing your lips together and he pushes you back so that the back of your knees hit the bed, causing you to fall backwards, Kuroo falling on top of you. His legs were on either side of you as he dominated the kiss.

“You’re mine. All mine,” he growls, hands wandering to grope your body harshly. He licks from the top of your breasts all the way up your neck and captures your lips again. Your hands go to tangle his raven locks and wrap your legs around him.

“I’m all yours,” you whisper against his lips. Kuroo smirks, quickly removing his jacket then undoing his tie before he goes to unbuckle his belt. Excitement started to rise in you. Angry sex? Fuck yes. You were in for a hell of a night and let’s be honest, one hell of a week.

You were kept inside for a time being because Kuroo was wary of what Bokuto said to him at that meeting. He wasn’t going to take any chances, but you understood where he was coming from. It was boring not being able to leave the fancy mansion you lived in, but you made your boyfriend make it up by letting him by you all sorts of gifts to apologize.

But after a while of nothing happening, your boyfriend lets you go on a shopping spree to make up for your boredom and loss of time. But you couldn’t leave until you brought extra bodyguards to look out for you. Annoying as it was, you obliged. There was no use in arguing because if you did, he probably wouldn’t have let you out. The whole threatening fiasco didn’t bother you one bit. You couldn’t count how many times people have said that to him and nothing has ever happened to you. You believed that nothing was going to happen this time around.

You were walking down the empty street after a successful day of shopping, having every single one of your bodyguards hold bags of clothes, accessories, shoes, food, things that you couldn’t resist buying. You skipped along the sidewalk, feeling happy and free, the warmth of the setting sun and the blow of the oncoming evening wind was making you feel content with life. You wonder if your bodyguards were feeling the same. Speaking of bodyguards, they were being awfully quiet. Spinning around, you realized that you were alone.

You paused, stunned frozen.

Where were your bodyguards? All of a sudden, several men appeared out of the shadows of the alleys. You sighed in relief, realizing that it was just your bodyguards pulling a prank on you.

“You scared me! How could you leave me alone like that!” you jokingly scolded them. But they were indeed not your bodyguards. The smile that was on your face was quick to drop upon realization. You took a few steps back, trying to get away from these men who were getting closer and closer to you. But you were stopped, running into someone’s chest. You looked up to see who it was and all of a sudden, everything turned black.

When you woke up, you found yourself sitting on a chair, arms wrapped together and duct tape covered your mouth. It didn’t take long to realize that you’ve been kidnapped. The classic empty warehouse and burning fire in a can was proof of that. You checked your surroundings and was surprised to see that your legs weren’t tied together. You weren’t blindfolded either, but you were tied down to the chair. It wasn’t long after you woke up that Bokuto makes his appearance, sitting backwards in a chair right in front of you. He looked happy to see you but you couldn’t say the same. You slanted your eyes at him, disinterested in whatever he wants to say or do. You tried to keep your composure by being still and keeping a poker face, because if you didn’t, you don’t know what he’ll do to you.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Bokuto greeted you. “You’re probably wondering why you’re not tied up.” He starts, then rips the duct tape off your mouth and cuts the ropes around your arms. Then he leans down to your level and smirks.

“Because I know you’re not going to run away. Look at you shaking,” he says and looks you up and down then going back to his chair. It was true. You were shaking. You’ve never been in this situation before. You’ve always imagined it: being nonchalant and bored of all the empty threats and your savior of a boyfriend would come save you from all the madness. But now you were second guessing yourself, now being caught in this situation. You were shaking, but you were still going to stand up for yourself. That’s what Kuroo taught you to do.

“You’re not going to get away with this. Kuroo is going to save me and you’ll regret ever doing this to me,” you ran your mouth. But Bokuto doesn’t respond. So you go on. “Kuroo is the strongest fighter I know. He could kick your ass in his sleep. You don’t even look like a fighter. I bet you’d do down so easy!” You said that anything that came to mind. Yet, Bokuto continued to stare at you with a bored expression. And that made you nervous.

“I would never date you. You’re ugly, mean, and-and… you suck!” you couldn’t come up with any good comebacks. But for some reason, that set him off. He stands up so fast that it knocks the chair over and that shuts you up real quick. He walks over to you, duct taping your mouth again.

“Noisy bitch. Maybe this’ll shut you up,” he says and tightly seals your lips shut with the silver tape. He then grabs your chin to look up at him. You glare up at him, already tired of how rough he was handling you. He tilts your face from side to side, getting a good look at you.

“See, you’re prettier when your silent,” he comments. He looks down at the tape and frowns. He tapped the tape that was over your mouth over and over again, like there was something missing. Bokuto opens the palm of his hand and one of his guys puts a bright red lipstick in his hand. With a swift action, he pulls the cap off with his teeth and applies the lipstick on the duct tape that outlines your lips. He spits the lid on the floor and smirks.

“There, that’s better,” he says. He grabs your chin again and pulls you in for a kiss. You struggle to get out of his grip but he was stronger than he looked. When Bokuto pulled away, the lipstick was smeared across his lips, but didn’t seem to care. He was about to say something until he heard screaming and grunts of pain. He turns around just in time to see your boyfriend getting thrown on the floor, all bloodied and beaten up. You gasp, tears beginning to form at the sight.

This was wrong. That couldn’t be your boyfriend. There was no way. Your boyfriend was strong. He beat up and sometimes even killed when anybody got in his way. How could this have happened?

Kuroo was thrown on the floor and a handful of men continued to beat him up, kicking him in all places. You shook your head in denial, not even wanting to watch but couldn’t look away. Bokuto was loving everything. Your expression. Kuroo’s sounds of pain. He was getting a kick that things were turning out how he had planned.

“Look who decided to show up,” Bokuto kneels down to his level, grabbing a handful of hair and picking him up to show his face. Blood was dripped down the sides of his face, from his nose and mouth, his cheeks were bruised and he looked like he was about to pass out.

“Let her go,” Kuroo barely manages to let out. Bokuto clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

“I told you, didn’t I? I want her. Anything you want to say to your little girlfriend for the last time?” Bokuto allows him to say some final words. But Kuroo was too out of it to comprehend what he was saying.

“What about girlfriend over here!” he exclaims, presenting you perfectly fine and free from any scratches. Bokuto rips the duct tape off and cries ripped from your throat.

“Kuroo Tetsurou! You better get up! Stand up please! Fight back!” you cry but that just causes Kuroo to get more kick and punches to his body. Large tears escaped your eyes and you couldn’t stop the sounds of agony coming from your mouth.

“You’re the best fighter around, right? Fight back please!” you begged him. Getting beat up, okay. But not even trying to fight back? That’s not the Kuroo you know. What was wrong with him? Why was he allowing them to do this to him? Kuroo looks up and faces you with a smile.

“I can’t let you get hurt, baby girl,” he professes. And that just breaks your heart. More sobs escaped your mouth but the sounds of skin hitting skin was louder. Kuroo was being tossed around, kicked, punched, spit at. Blood was stained everywhere, and you didn’t know what to do. Even though he was getting beat up so badly, he was still standing. And that seemed to annoy Bokuto. Time was ticking and he was getting impatient. If he was doing to die like that, then he was going to have to do it himself. Bokuto pulls the gun out of his pocket, aiming for Kuroo. You see it just in time and as if your feet were moving on it’s own, you run to shield him before he gets shot. The moment you touched him, you heard the gun shot and everything went black

The feeling of soft sheets under your fingers woke you up. You jolted awake, sitting up in the bed that was all too familiar to you. You were at home, but how did you get here? You checked your body all over but there were no signs of pain or even wound marks. There was no bullet, no bruises, no scarring. So, what the hell happened? Then your mind went to your boyfriend. Getting right out of bed, you ran to his room and he was resting in bed, bandages covering his shoulder.

“Kuroo,” you called out to him, running to his side and grabbing his hand. He shifts in his position, sighing deeply. Then he brings your hand to his lips, placing a small but meaningful kiss on your knuckles.

“You’re up, my dear,” he says as a fact, eyes barely open. Concern washed over you and so many questions came to mind. You didn’t know what to ask first.

“How-what-but I… I took the gun shot for you,” you tried to recall what happened. Kuroo knocks your forehead and you pout.

“You think you’re so slick. I saw what you were trying to do. I flipped you over just in time. Now I have this to remember,” and then points to his shoulder with the bandage. He took the bullet for you. You pout again, feeling bad. Not only did he get beaten up pretty badly, but he also got shot that night? That was supposed to be your job.

“If I didn’t get shot, then why did I pass out?” you questioned, more to yourself.

“I think you passed out from the shock, baby,” he comforted you. It made sense… but when you looked at your boyfriend in this condition, it made you upset. You started to burst into tears and hit him in the chest.

“You idiot!” you yell, accidentally hitting the place he got shot and he jumps up in pain. But you cuddle right up to him to make up for it. But you thought he deserved it.

“What about Bokuto?” you shot up and looked at Kuroo was worry written all over your face. He softly smiles at you and pets your hair.

“We all retreated. For now. But it’s not over,” he tells you. Oh, it is far from over. This is actually just the beginning.

[inkmemes]

this  country  (  2017  -  2020  )  sentence  starters ↪  taken  from  the  bbc  mockumentary.  trigger  warning  for  mentions  of  religion,  death,  sex.  alter  as  you  see  fit  ♡

“i like the underdog.”

“don't be a fucking dick.”

“everyone comes together on days like today and just forgets their utter hatred of each other.”

“everyone who's anyone's going to be there and there are people from my past that would love to see me slain.”

“there's a tea rooms there and under the counter they've got a panic button and if i take one step inside, they can press that. the police will be there in three minutes.”

"he whatsapped me the other day asking us to go laser quest with him and i ... well, i clicked on it by accident, didn't i? so he knows i've seen it."

"i mean, i get it, but it's not making me feel nothing."

“it's baffling. i'm baffled by the entire situation, if i'm honest.”

“what the actual fuck? what the actual fuck? you have fucking lost your head, mate. you have lost your fucking head.”

“when i get hold of you, i swear to god i will fucking deck you.”

"someone's just been throwing plums at my house. i'm going to kill them. i can't believe it. i can't believe it. all over this. plumming on here, plumming on that. plum on the sofa, look! there's nothing left that hasn't been plummed."

“i've had a target on my back since the day i was born.”

“thank you very much, enjoy your free potatoes.”

“do you know how small your brain is?”

“hogwarts is that way, dumbledore.”

“he used to say i looked like the puppet off the dolmio advert.”

“there's a kid crying over there. do you want me to...? i can tell him to shut the fuck up if you want?”

“he genuinely looked like a moomin.”

“on my first day of karate club, karate master goes to me, [name], i don't know why you're here because i can't teach you anything. if anything, you should be teaching me." and just gave me his black belt.”

“you know that little old blind man? yeah, when i was punching him in his face, the lens from his glasses broke and cut my knuckle.”

“some things are just best left in the past, where they belong.”

“what's the point in knocking if you're just going to walk in anyway?”

“it was a miscarriage of justice though, cos what people forget is 12 out of them 20 hostages actually found it funny.”

“i lied so much i still don't know what's real life and what's plain lies.”

“i'm so glad you're out of that lying phase.”

“he likes to be the only person on the road, so whenever he sees a car coming the other way he just pulls over.”

“nasa went through hundreds of them in the '60s. and now every time i see a really bright star in the sky i can't wish on it, cos in my head i'm thinking, ‘that's probably just a spacecraft with some monkey bones in it.’”

“you absolute traitor. that's my cheese - it's my fucking house!”

“don't you dare eat that cheese. you eat that and i will smash this. i promise you, i will smash you with this.”

“fuck! you switched them!”

“yeah, i can see it's fucking burnt, sherlock.”

“i honestly am ashamed to know him, sometimes.”

“if you knock on someone's door, don't take no for an answer. get into their house. if they say, ‘leave my house’, stay. and if they say, ‘i'm going to call the police’, you walk upstairs and see if there's anybody else upstairs to sell to.”

“she looks like uncle fester.”

“right. i'm going to piss in their flowers, then.”

“you really need to go home. your mum's called the police and everything.”

“you're also fired from being my best mate, by the way.”

“in business, there will always be setbacks. i don't drink my own juice, fray bentos doesn't eat his own pies. but that's business.”

“do you know what, i don't actually want to play this any more, because it is actually very, very boring.”

“i'm ashamed of myself, that's not usually me, so don't get the wrong impression.”

“i genuinely think one of them fancies me as well.”

“it's fate her moving across the street.”

“the problem with finding a girlfriend in the village is that most of the girls you meet round here are old-age pensioners.”

“yeah, i am looking for a relationship, but thing is i've just got so many trust issues, yeah, with being fucked over massive in the past, so no matter how much i get close to someone now i'm thinking in the back of my head, ‘shit, am i going to get fucked over?’ because i've been fucked over in the past massively. my last relationship proper fucked me up.”

“i went through a really dark phase. listening to papa roach and just blowing everything up with them little french bangers.”

“shut up, you don't know what you're talking about!”

“i don't like the man. i know he's my uncle, but i don't like him.”

“it's just malicious lies, that's all it is.”

“i'm not saying i've got a cruel heart, but if she ain't willing to take me as i am rather than the monster i've become, then she can literally just jog on back to sea with all the other fish cos i don't care.”

“what do you look for in a boyfriend?”

“the key to dating, yeah, is the two rs and the three ts. 'respect, rapport, and talking, talking, talking.' don't ever let that ball hit the ground. good relationships are built on great conversation.”

“on a date, you've got to tell them all the interesting stuff about you, because that's what they'll be interested in.”

“he said to me, he goes, ‘you can't smoke on here.’ i said, ‘i'm not smoking, i'm vaping.’ the look on his face when i said that. i don't think he knew what vaping… what a vape is.”

“you would make me the happiest mouse if you say yes and become my spouse.”

“here's a tip, [name], next time you take a chick out on a date, don't bore her to tears.”

“roses are red, violets are blue, i've got five fingers, the third one's for you.”

“get out of my way, pipe cleaner.”

“[name] phoned me the other day at three in the morning saying, ‘come quick,

there's a hedgehog in the garden that looks exactly like grandad.’ so i got up, i got dressed and i ran over to [name]'s as fast as i could and then i just stopped in the middle of the street at three in the morning and thought, ‘what the fuck am i doing with my life?’

“you're joking me? because if you are joking me, that is massively harsh.”

“oh, let me get a song up on youtube. you're going to absolutely love this, [name]. here we go… listen to this. oh, for fuck's sake, advert.”

“let's go down the pub and get shitfaced.”

“where do i see myself in five years? well, me and [name] will have a flat in the middle of the village and all of our furniture will be inflatable and we'll have cable and it will pay for itself, because we're going to use the spare room to breed quails, because their eggs are worth fucking shitloads.”

“is this about the calippo, still? because you offered to buy me that.”

“if he wants to go, good luck to him, i say. i reckon he thinks that i can't live without him, which is a laugh, because he went a whole weekend away once and i got on all right. i just ended up following this cat around the village.”

“i've got to do what's right for me, at the end of the day, instead of worrying about other people.”

“how about you say sorry? sorry for the massive knife that's hanging out the back of my back because of you.”

“oh, and while you're stabbing me in the back, feel free to bend down and kiss my arse.”

“can i just ask you an honest question? why would you want to leave the village when we've got a pub and a shop?”

“i think you don't know how lucky we have it to be doing nothing with our lives, like. we're all going to die, anyway, so what's the point in doing anything?”

“i want ownership of the words fucknut and dickmilk.”

“i had this come through the post. and i've got a few concerns about it. firstly, this guy on the front looks really arrogant. not the sort of guy i was expecting, if i'm honest.”

“this is starting to stress me out a little bit.”

“why are you trying to stress me out? you know i'm already stressed out as it is.”

“the bloke that used to live in there, right, kept hearing strange noises coming out of his attic at night. and he'd go to the fridge and find that food was missing from the fridge. so he thought, ‘i'm just going to go up to the attic and check this out.’ and he found an entire family of peruvian panpipe buskers just living up there. and he thought ‘i'm just going to leave them to it, ‘cos they're not really doing me any harm.’ and then, a few years later, he thought, "well, i'll just go up to the attic to check on them. ‘see if they're all right.’ and it turned out they'd all died of asbestos poisoning. yeah, he doesn't live here any more.”

“some people will always be scared of me, and i can't change that, no matter how nice i am. but there's a balance to be had between being nice and being feared.”

“don't really like catching up. it's not my thing.”

“i just watched this video of this girl doing a random act of kindness on youtube. she basically paid for this old man's shopping at the till. and this old man was, like, about 90 years old. and he's so fucking old, like, you could see through his skin. and he just starts bawling his eyes out. he's like, ‘you're fucking joking me, this ain't fucking real life.’ i just thought... i want to make someone feel like that. ‘cos that's... i really… that's what i want to do.”

“i'm not dead. just can't be arsed to text her sometimes.”

“you know, correct me if i'm wrong, but four texts a day is complete madness. no-one can keep up with that.”

“i am doing kind things selfishly.”

“i was at midnight mass one year, right, someone got tipped off i was there. as i was coming out the church, someone tries to shoot me with a crossbow.”

“well, i haven't seen the film, have i? that's why i came here - to watch the fucking film - like a normal human being.”

“i've made an effort by coming here tonight. i didn't want to come.”

“i had to wheel him here from his house in an asda trolley, cos he was just too heartbroken to move.”

“sometimes you don't know what you got until you ain't got it any more. like blockbuster's. i just took 'em for granted - and then, one day, gone, and you spend ages trying to figure out what went wrong, and then you realise it was your fault all along.”

“i thought you said you wanted to fix things.”

“she wanted it to go that way, and it just wasn't gonna go that way. she even got me thinking that they'd get back together… ..but that's manipula.... manipulative people... do that. and he's better off without her.”

“that wasn't much to write home about.”

“it's fucking dead, isn't it?”

“basically, somebody's been sending me threatening letters, and i don't know who's doing it - and i am concerned, because my peripheral vision is poor, so, if somebody attacks me from the sides or snipes at me from an upstairs window, i am fucked - but my hearing is excellent, see? so i just need to spend a few days inside honing my sonar, and i'll be fine then.”

“if you don't like the work, the circus is in town and they're always looking for clowns.”

“his soul is just going to crumble to dust.”

“this really is not a good situation for me. a physical threat is something that i can deal with, but a sexual thing is not my area of expertise.”

“just really fucked in the head, mate.”

“what have i done? i haven't done anything wrong.”

“do you know how sad that is? that is so, actually, sad. that makes me sad for you, that you can't take a joke.”

“i think i just got a bit carried away with the whole thing.”

“your finger's going up my arsehole, mate.”

“i'll hold the back of your head, so you don't bash yourself.”

“when i lie in future, i don't want a massive lecture on how bad lying is, cos deep down, you're the worst of us all, mate.”

“i'd quite like a coke.”

“it's going to be like gluing a breadstick back together, because… like, as if a breadstick's been in a blender and it's all… ...the pieces smashed up.”

“like, this one time i started a fight club in the village hall, and i got a black eye from beating myself up. but it made my enemies think, ‘fuck, if she can do that to herself, what the fuck can she do to me?’”

“i'm absolutely 1,000% sure i've broken it in two places.”

“i knew this day would come.”

“i should be in tk maxx, getting the bargains that i deserve.”

“unlike you, [name], i'm not a fashion disaster.”

“i'm still warm in my grave, and she's sucking off the pallbearer.”

“you know, it took me ten years to get over [name], and i only went out with her for half a day.”

“i swear to god, if i see him here again, i swear to god, i will have no hesitation in just going up to him and just planting one on his face.”

“right, then keep your nose out of my business, yeah? nosy old cock-womble.”

“[name]’s attitude to me is puzzling. if i walk past her in the street

and say hi, she'll tell me to fuck off. yet every year, she sends me a really sweet, nice christmas card. you know, there's just no consistency there.”

“he's good-looking up close, isn't he?”

“don't show me any weakness, because i will take advantage.”

“no, put the brick down, you fucking psychopath.”

“when i asked him, he just said, ‘come to my office now,’ which means we're in the fucking shit, cos we're always in fucking shit.”

“i shouldn't be paying you at all.”

“i've always had a son. i talk about him all the time.”

“he's my son. he's not my dog.”

“it reminds me of the wicker man. i don't really know why.”

“i just find it weird how you can be so close to someone and they can be such a big part of your life, and then the next minute, you're just sort of strangers in the night.”

“i don't want the emotional implications.”

“well, about five years ago, i sold my birthday to my mum for about 200 quid, which means my mum's legally entitled now to never celebrate my birthday ever again for the rest of my life. not even, like, a happy birthday cup of tea, or a moonpig card, nothing - which is the worst decision i ever made in my entire life.”

“he deserves that anyway, because he's been sexting my nan, so…”

“what's this surprise? cos i need to know whether it's going to be worth this walk.”

“i always see them banners above the motorway, and i always thought, ‘who the fuck does them?’ well, now i know. people like me.”

“did you know you can't get stung by a stinging nettle if you grab the leaf top and bottom, like that? it's only when you touch it on the sides, it stings. agh, actually, that stung, then.”

“pez dispenser, they're cursed. they are, i'm not even joking. honestly, when i had one of them, i had the worst bout of bad luck i ever had in my life.”

“i swear down, it's a short cut. it might be a pleasant walk, we might enjoy it.”

“i'm not scared of the fox twins. i'd just like to sit them down and ask 'em plainly, ‘look, guys, what is going on? ‘cos this has just gotten completely out of hand now. you know, stop walking on your knuckles, stand up straight, be the best version of you that you can be. get a job, even. there's a trolley boy who works at tesco's, you know, who may as well have been raised by wolves. if he can get a job, you guys can walk it.’”

“yes, there has been talk of strange goings-on in the woods, ghost sightings and the like. but… ...they're never from particularly reliable sources.”

“i live with a ghost. there's a ghost in that house. he's like a civil war cavalier, with all the hair and the hat and all that. and every time i walk into the living room, he doffs his cap. and on his shoulder, he's got this crow that barks at me. it means i spend less time in the house, really. not because of him, because he's-he's quite peaceable. but the crow is malevolent. and i'm not having that. i can't share my house with a malevolent bird.”

“that's haunted as fuck.”

“am i going mad here, or does that, to you, look like that's where just ghost will hang out all the time?”

“look at him, little red riding twat.”

“if he's got an attitude with me, i swear to god, i'll just grab the steering wheel and drive us all into a wall.”

“it's a bit annoying, actually. cos this is not the first or the second time i've had to tell you, really, is it?”

“his sparkle has just gone.”

“you know my dad actually wrote the song wonderwall on the back of a beer mat in the space of ten minutes, don't you?”

“i've just got a tiny, tiny, tiny little favour to ask you.”

“when i think of [name], i think of someone who is very loyal. and very, very stupid. sort of more stupid than loyal. sort of 70% stupid, 30% loyal, probably. because she's very loyal. but extremely stupid.”

“do you know what? i actually don't think he loves you at all and i don't think he's ever loved you.”

“all right, that's harsh and unnecessary, but fine.”

“frankly, she is behaving like the antichrist.”

“i literally just got here.”

“you are such an unemotional slab of ham, [name].”

“i've got so much shit on that man you would not believe.”

“there's something in my eye.”

“i just can't quit him, you know?”

“yeah, we might have a fiery relationship,  but when we're together, it's just… it's just pure chemistry, isn't it?”

“i'm not proud of it, believe me. but at the end of the day, i'm a very vindictive person, you know? it is what makes me me.”

“i basically went out and bought an alpaca off gumtree for £500. of all the mistakes i've made in my life, that was possibly the largest. definitely the physically largest.”

“yeah, i really don't wanna talk about that.”

“her only loyalty is to herself, staffies, and the tv channel dave… ...which, in my opinion, is a tv channel made by knuckle-draggers for knuckle-draggers.”

“i can't move on till i've seeked revenge, unfortunately.”

“if that was in france, that would be fine, but we're not in france.”

“the only thing we had in common, really, was stealing, and that was more my thing that i got him onto. but it just goes to show, you know, some friendships last and some friendships don't, but that's just the way it is.”

“you know it was me that got you sacked, don't you?”

“the thing i learnt about friendship is, you gotta accept each other's flaws, no matter how toxic they may be.”

“shit-stirring from beyond the grave.”