#like even if the Great Plan doesn’t mention those bits yet

[goatbeard-goatbeard]

I’ve seen the plans

companion post // previous piece (Uriel)

can’t stop thinking about the absolutely bone-chilling implications of a pre-Fall angel seeing the plans for humans. fallen angels are involved in those plans! a lot!

[lemonlover1110]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐑 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑

Toji Fushiguro

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Summary: Toji Fushiguro is hired to kill a woman- An absurd amount of money for her head. But she's simply too beautiful for him to not have some fun first.

He forgets about his job until the tables are turned on him.

Warnings: MDNI, Smut, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex (f. and m. receiving), Spitting, Vaginal Fingering, Creampie, Attempted Murder, Toji is a hit man, Mentions of murder and a gun and knife

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Toji doesn’t question any of his jobs as long as the money he’s paid is good. That’s why he didn’t question why someone was willing to pay ten million yen for the head of a twenty-something year old woman. He doesn’t ask much details when he’s about to do a job, just the name and a picture of the person.

When Toji got your picture, he almost felt guilty for even looking at you without your permission. He had never seen someone so drop-dead gorgeous, and he felt tempted to decline the job, thinking that such pure blood couldn’t be on his hands. But he knew your looks have nothing to do with this. With the little information he got, he knew you were a sorcerer. He never got if you were part of a clan or not, or any actual reason for your death, but they wanted you gone.

Toji thinks with his dick a lot, but this wasn’t one of those instances. He felt bad, sure, but he wasn’t going to turn down that much money for a woman he had never met. So he made a plan, and now he sits at a bar, drinking water as he waits for you to step into the place. With some help he figured out what your weekly routine is. And on Fridays you decide to go out for a drink. So he patiently waits for you to enter the place. 

Time feels so slow as he glances at the door, waiting for you to step into the place. It’s still quite early, but he’s been at the same spot for half an hour, not attempting to make conversation with anyone else. A couple of women have come up to him, trying to initiate something, but Toji shrugged them off. He’s only looking for one person, and none of those women are nearly as stunning as you are.

“Waiting for someone?” The bartender asks, and Toji hums in response. He doesn’t share any details though. There’s no need. Toji keeps looking at the door, and his eyes light up when the door opens and you walk through. He’s a minute closer to getting the money he was promised.

His eyes follow your body as you immediately approach a table, walking over to your friends. You wear a little black dress that hugs your body extremely well, it almost makes the man forget why he’s there. You simply look stunning, even better than the picture he was shown, which he didn’t think was possible. But he remembers why he’s here.

He didn’t expect you to meet up with your friends, so he has to slightly change his plans. He tears his eyes off you when you look back, he hadn’t noticed your friends had been looking at him and had begun to point at him. Great, now he just looks like a creep, however, he doesn’t worry too much about it. There’s no need for formalities, really. He could just get you alone, kill you, and bring your body to the person that hired him. That’s what he does every single time but tonight he doesn’t want to do it like that. 

Someone so beautiful deserves a little bit more. It’s a horrible mindset, but Toji is a horrible person.

“Hey.” He hears, and he turns his head to look at you. You’re smiling at him, and he wonders what you’re going to say. You know he was staring at you, yet you don’t look like you’re about to call him out for it. Quite the opposite. “Is this seat taken?”

“No, go ahead.” His voice is stern as he speaks. You notice how he holds a glass of water, or perhaps it’s straight vodka. You’ll never know because you’ll never question it. He watches as you tell the bartender your drink of choice to start off the night. You look at the handsome man that’s next to you before confidently saying,

“My friends told me you were checking me out.” You tell him. Each year you get older and realize there’s no point in holding back. You don’t lose anything by telling him that you find him attractive. Worst he can do is reject you, “And I have to say, you’re very handsome.”

“Hmm… I am?” He raises a brow while he turns to look at you. He licks his lips, once again looking over you. He brings his glass up to his lips and takes a sip, which is when you figure out that it’s water since he had no reaction to the liquid. “What’s your name, darling?”

You tell him your first name, which further confirms he’s got the right woman. You bat your eyelashes at him, hoping he introduces himself without you having to ask. As your glass is placed in front of you, he says, “That’s a very beautiful name.” 

“What’s your name?” You end up asking when he doesn’t introduce himself. You bring your drink up to your lips and begin to sip while you wait for the man to say something. He takes a long time to speak a word. He’s debating if he should use his real name. It wouldn’t be smart for him to do so, but in the end it won’t matter. 

At the end of the night, you’ll be dead.

“Toji.” He answers. You smile at him as you think of what to say next. You really aren’t interested in a conversation, in fact, you only want one thing from him. Of course, you won’t immediately just ask him to leave the place to have sex, you’ll talk to him a bit more.

“I haven’t seen you around here before, Toji.” You say, and the way that his name rolls off your tongue has him hooked. He feels his face get warm, and he can only imagine his cheeks getting a pinkish color, so he turns his face away from you. The lighting of the place isn’t great, yet he’s scared that it’ll be noticeable in the low light. 

“You come here a lot?” He asks, and you end up humming in response. 

“Every Friday night. Just to unwind with friends after a long week.” You share. He didn’t know that detail. He doesn’t usually ask for details, mainly because that makes his victims too human. Toji will do anything for money and he doesn’t feel guilty. But having you tell him something as simple as that won’t make him feel his best about his job. “How about you? Why did you decide to come here?”

“I’m new to the area, and saw this place.” He shares. 

You two begin to converse and find out about each other. You tell him miniscule things about yourself, while he does the same. Majority of the things that he tells you don’t seem genuine though. It’s believable enough, but it just doesn’t seem honest. Yet you don’t care. 

You get lost in insignificant conversation so much so that you don’t feel two hours pass by. You’ve had a little too much to drink by then, and have gotten a bit too touchy with Toji. Your hands are on his arms, and you lightly slap it when he tells a joke that isn’t all that funny. He finds himself laughing as well.

“How about we…” You begin to whisper in his ear. Toji’s hands are on your waist, helping you maintain your balance as you stand. Instead of finishing your sentence, you begin to kiss Toji’s face. He’s forgetting about his task. Your lips finally press against his, and he allows himself to get lost in the soft skin. A complete stranger is kissing him, and his palms are getting unreasonably sweaty. Toji has had one night stands before– Too many to count, but he’s never felt like this while kissing them. Maybe it’s because he knows that after this, it’ll all be over.

He shouldn’t even be thinking about sleeping with you, but when you say, “Let’s go back to my apartment” when you pull away from his lips, his mind is hazy and he hums in response. Maybe it’s your cursed technique or something similar that has such an effect on him. But he has to remember what he was hired to do. He won’t let some momentarily feeling get in the way of his prize. 

After closing your tab, the two of you begin to walk to your apartment. Your place is not too far away, it’s a five minute walk from the bar. Which he already knew. You happily talk to him, and from your speech he can tell that you’re sobering up, but you’re not planning to stay sober for too long. 

You get to your place, and he walks in, unsure of where to go next. You walk past him and go to the kitchen to grab two glasses of wine and open a bottle. You don’t care to ask if he actually drinks. You’ll just pour two glasses, talk a bit more, and then have sex. At least that’s what you think will happen.

“Please, take a seat.” You tell him, and he awkwardly looks around before going to the couch and taking a seat. His eyes inspect the place, noticing how it’s a bit disorganized. Next to him is a pretty white dress that most likely was going to be your choice for the night. He notices how sheer it is and how small it looks, which makes him glad you chose the black dress. Had you worn that dress, he would’ve died on the spot. You walk up to him with two glasses filled to the brim, “Sorry for the mess. I wasn’t expecting any guests.”

“It’s fine.” He responds, taking the glass from your hands. You take a seat right on his lap, after all, the plans you have with him involve more than just sitting on his lap. There’s no point in holding back. He feels his face get warm, and he distracts himself by looking at the glass of wine. “Man, you’re really trying to get me drunk.”

“I did overdo it a bit.” You tell him, taking a sip from your glass. He puts his glass down on the end table, his hands focusing on roaming through your body. “Not much of a drinker, now?” 

“Alcohol isn’t really my thing.” He comments, his fingertips feathering over your thighs before they go up to the hem of your dress. His fingers begin to trace lazy circles on your skin, completely forgetting what he’s here to do. You end up putting your glass on the coffee table, focusing completely on him. 

“Hmm, so what’s your thing?” You say, lightly biting down your bottom lip. 

“Pretty girls like you.” He responds, his lips placing a kiss on your jaw before his teeth begin to nibble on your earlobe. You smirk, your hands feeling the well built body that hides behind a thin black shirt. You get off his lap and get on your knees on the hardwood floor. God, he’d curse himself for being so dumb. He has a gun in his pants, and a pocketknife in his pocket. Yet he isn’t thinking about that when you’re undoing his belt and pulling down his pants. 

Your eyes glance at the gun, but you don’t say anything about it, instead you smirk knowing that he hasn’t noticed the fact that you know. Your hand wraps around his cock and you slowly begin to pump his length. “I hope I’m special.”

“Oh, you are.” He answers before your tongue begins to swirl around the tip of his cock. He watches as you do so, biting his bottom lip. Your hand keeps stroking his dick while your tongue keeps licking the tip of his cock, until you finally wrap your mouth around his dick.

It’s too much for you to take it all, so you take as much as you can in your mouth, your hands moving the parts that you can’t fit inside. You bob your head slowly, your eyes looking up at Toji who is clearly enjoying this. His cheeks are pink while he bites down on his lip. It makes you wonder if he’s touch-deprived or if you’re just really good at this. 

“Oh, fuck–” He ends up throwing his head back after awkwardly holding eye-contact with you for a couple of seconds. He’ll admit that you look better than ever while your mouth is wrapped around his cock, but looking at each other while he gets head is just awkward. Especially when he has very specific plans to kill you, and he won’t back down. Obviously, his plans have been pushed back. He’ll get his dick wet and then do it. As horrifying as it sounds.

You take your mouth off his cock, your tongue running down his shaft and going to his balls. Your mouth begins to suck on his balls while your hand pumps his cock. His eyes are rolling to the back of his head while you work your magic. Fuck, this isn’t even supposed to be happening. But it is and he’s so close to coming.

Your tongue licks up to his tip, and your mouth wraps around his cock again. Your eyes once again focus on his face, although it’s thrown back as he grunts. “S’ good. Love your mouth.”

His cock twitches and he releases in your mouth. So much cum fills up your mouth, and some of it dribbles down to your chin. You take your mouth off his cock and he finally looks at you. He brings his thumb down to your chin and picks up his cum, then brings it to your lips. He swipes his thumb on your tongue. His hand then goes under your chin and he turns your head. “You’re so beautiful.”

You get off the floor and grab his hand. You pull him up from the couch and begin to guide him to your bedroom. Your bedroom is even more disorganized than the living room, but he doesn’t notice because all that’s going through his mind is the fact he’s about to fuck you, and it feels like a dream. 

Your hands go to your side and you pull down your zipper, beginning to take off your dress. He watches, his eyes lighting up as he sees that you’re only wearing panties. His hand goes to your back and he pulls you closer to him. His lips meet yours for a brief second before his lips go down, from your neck to your breasts. His lips wrap around your nipple and he sucks, while his hand plays with the other.

He detaches his mouth from your nipple and kisses his way to your other nipple before his lips wrap around your other nipple. You softly moan while he does so. When he unlatches, he picks you up and puts you down on the bed. He spreads your legs apart and pushes your panties to the side before he gets on his knees.

His tongue runs through your cunt before it focuses on flicking your clit. You softly moan while his fingers go up to your mouth. He shoves his fingers in your mouth, getting them wet with your saliva before he brings them down and runs them through your folds. He pushes his middle and ring finger inside of you and you loudly moan.

“Oh, Toji-” You shut your eyes as he curves his fingers just right. The pad of his fingers brush against your sweet spot repeatedly. His tongue works just right, and you bite down your bottom lip so you’re not so loud. The walls are thin, and the last thing you want is for the neighbors to hear this. “You’re doing such a good job.”

And his ears are happy with what you say and with the moans that leave your lips. Oh and his tongue is also happy because you taste so fucking good. He’s definitely happy he’s getting to do this. At this point he’s completely forgotten what he came here to do. 

“Fuck– It’s so good!” You arch your back, feeling as your orgasm begins to build up. Your thighs begin to squeeze his head, and your mind begins to get cloudy. You definitely don’t regret bringing him over. 

Toji’s mouth begins to suck on your clit as your orgasm gets closer and closer. It’s so fucking good for the both of you. You get louder and louder with every passing second, until your legs spasm, reaching your orgasm. You moan his name really loud, and it’s the sweetest melody that he’s ever come across.

He takes his fingers out and detaches himself from your clit, standing up. He begins to get undressed, taking off his shirt before his pants follow. He makes sure that weapons are hidden by clothes before he completely focuses on you. You truly look like a goddess as you lay down on the bed, and he’s mesmerized. He’s never seen someone so beautiful before.

“You’re so beautiful.” He comments stroking his cock before he runs the tip through your folds. His other hand goes to your lower back and he lifts your upper body. His lips meet yours, his tongue going inside your mouth and pressing against yours. He slowly pushes his cock inside of you, and you moan into his mouth.

His cock definitely feels bigger than it looks, and it feels so good. You pull away from the kiss, and he brings his lips together, gathering up saliva before he spits in your mouth. It’s so fucking nasty but you love it, swallowing it. “Oh you’re such a nasty bitch.”

“I am.” You answer. One arm is wrapped around his shoulders, while the other goes down, your hand playing with your clit. “Your dick’s so good.”

“Oh? Is it?” He questions. He picks up speed with every thrust, getting lost in your cunt. His lips meet yours again in a sloppy kiss, muffling any sounds from the both of you. This feels so fucking good, by this point he’s forgotten about the ten million yen prize. He doesn’t want to leave you after this. “You’ve got such a sweet little pussy.”

Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head as you feel another orgasm approach. He just hits every spot and it makes your body feel so good. Every movement is enough to send you over the edge, and he’s relentless. You pull away from the kiss to moan, “Oh fuck! Toji!”

You reach your climax, your pussy feeling incredible around him. So tight and warm. He rapidly keeps thrusting in and out of you, chasing his release. He’s moaning your name, coming so close to finishing. 

His thrusts get sloppy until he finally comes to a stop, filling you up with his cum. He shouldn’t have done that, but he doesn’t care. And neither do you. He pulls out and lays down beside you on the bed. Now would be the perfect time to grab a weapon and do the job.

But he isn’t thinking of that. He catches his breath and turns his face to look at you, admiring your beauty, “You’re so beautiful.”

“Thank you.” You answer, smiling at him. He’s decided that he’ll push his plan to tomorrow morning.

The next morning Toji wakes up next to you and his mind is all over the place. He doesn’t exactly remember much. Maybe that you had sex a couple more times until you both passed out— That and that he pushed back his plan of killing you. 

He’s been stalling his plan simply because you’ve captivated him, and he can’t afford that. Not with the amount of money that’s on the line. You seem to be sleeping peacefully next to him, which would allow him to grab a pillow and just do the job. But he doesn’t. 

He gets off the bed, grabs his clothes and begins to look for the bathroom. Once he finds it, he uses the toilet. Once he’s done he looks over himself in the mirror. When did he become so pathetic for a woman? Last time that happened was too long ago. It’s just extremely disappointing that he pushed his plans back because he found the woman too beautiful. But for some reason so much weight has been lifted from him.

He notices the mouthwash on the sink and opens the bottle, pouring some on the cap and then bringing it up to his lips. While he rinses, there’s a knock on the door. “Uh… Give me a sec!”

But the door opens. His eyebrows furrow and he turns to look at you. You’re just wearing your panties, your hands behind your back as you sweetly smile, “Good morning, Toji!”

“Good morning.” He’s rather cold this morning. You take small steps to get closer to him.

“How’d you sleep?” You question.

“I’m still tired.” He confesses and you chuckle.

“You wouldn’t be so tired if you had drank the wine.” You tell him, and he finds himself confused.

“Does wine help you sleep or something?” He questions. When you’re close enough, your hands come to the front, but you’re not empty handed. Toji feels the barrel press against his abdomen, and that’s the weight he felt that had been lifted. He puts his hands up in the air.

“The great Toji Zenin was after me, I feel honored.” You begin, and Toji is bewildered. “The sorcerer killer… I want to know who hired you, but I also want to keep it a surprise.”

“You knew?” He asks the obvious, causing you to laugh.

“Of course I knew. I was surprised you didn’t do it faster though. But I’m glad. You were a good fuck.” You tell him, and he slowly blinks. Reality slowly settles. He has a gun pressed against his abdomen— His gun. He’ll most likely die, but he can’t begin to plead for his life because he can’t seem to find the will to live. There’s no point. He’s been outsmarted. “I’m glad you didn’t drink the wine either.”

“Not only beautiful, but also smart.” He’s actually blushing, and he can’t seem to care enough to try and turn his face to hide it from you.

“Any last words?” 

“I think I’ve fallen in love.”

[crljhnn]

The older Jefferson

Pairing: Rodrick Heffley x fem!Reader

Summary: After Rowley announces that his older (half-)sister, who lives quite far away and has never met the Heffleys, is going to visit him over the break Susan invites his family over for dinner. Her not being what Rodrick expects, he starts crushing, which results in him trying to impress her - failing horribly.

No physical description; No use of y/n

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: None

A/N: Hi, just a quick warning that English isn’t my first language and that this is also the first time I’ve ever written a longer text in English that isn’t a school assignment. I also don’t fully understand Tumblr yet, which makes me honestly a bit anxious to post.

[This and a gender-neutral version are also posted on AO3]

“Why haven't you ever mentioned that you have an older Sister?” Rowley and Greg were sitting on the Heffleys living room floor - Rodrick occupying the whole space on the couch - playing a video game. Well, Greg was. It was a single-player. He promised they would take turns, but by now Rowley had been over for about two and a half hours and hadn’t even had the chance to touch the controller yet. He gave up on asking and settled on just watching about 45 minutes in.

“I talked about her before. Multiple times actually.” That is true. Rowley looks up to his sister a lot “Also, she is technically my Half-Sister. She’s been living with her Dad for longer than I remember. Normally we are the ones flying over to visit during summer break, but she hasn’t visited since she was a little Kid, and after her school schedule finally allowed it, we thought it would be a good idea if she, for a change, came here instead.”

“It sounds like you two get along great!” Mrs. Heffley walked in, holding a laundry basket under one arm while carrying Manny with the other.

“We do! I can’t wait to show her my room and have her around for the entire break! I have so much planned out already, it's gonna be so much fun! Best summer ever!”

“That sounds lovely Rowley, I wish Greg was so excited to hang out with Rodrick, but they just won't get along.” Susan sighed, throwing a pitiful glance at her two oldest, who simultaneously let out a laugh hearing this.”

“Yeah, never gonna happen.” Greg says, “I would rather spend the whole summer in school than voluntarily hang out with this idiot.”

“My Sister is actually around the same age as Rodrick.” Rowley buts in. Greg doesn’t understand how this is relevant, but it probably adds to his mother's yearning for her two oldest sons to get along. Rodrick lets out a laugh hearing that.

“I can’t wait to meet them. Just imagine an older, female version of Rowley. That’s actually fucking hilarious!”.

“Watch your language! Also, I'm sure she is wonderful.” Gregs Mom loosens her lecturing stance, turns around, and smiles at Rowley “I would love to have you and your family over for dinner sometime. It has been a while since I’ve seen your parents and I would love to meet your sister.”

“That sounds great Mrs. Heffley. I will ask my parents as soon as I get home!”

That brings us to about a week later, when the Jefferson family, including their oldest daughter, is standing in front of the Heffleys House, ringing their doorbell.

Rowley has been telling you all about his best friend Greg for years, which made you somewhat excited about finally meeting him. However, you can’t say that the picture your brother painted is entirely positive, finding him rather irritating in many of the stories you were told over time. You aren't too mad though, assuming it is normal for young, teenage boys to act like jerks every once in a while. Not everyone can be such a sweetheart as Rowley. Overall you're glad your brother managed to maintain such a long-lasting friendship.

And then there was Rodrick. You've heard rather interesting stories about him as well. In the beginning, you found those quite amusing, that was until you realized that Rowley was genuinely terrified of him. Not the best first impression someone could make on you. Influenced by seeing your younger sibling grow up to be such a sweet and genuine person you tend to be a bit protective from time to time.

You hear some hushed voices from inside, and you can identify one of them as female, reminding someone to behave. Then the door opens and a woman, who you assume to be Mrs. Heffley, kindly smiles at you. Your suspicion is confirmed a second later when she introduces herself and shoos you into the house, before continuing to greet the rest of your family.

Crossing the threshold you can now see a man standing slightly behind Greg's mother. He introduces himself as Frank, making quite a kind impression on you. Then he leads you into the living room to meet his sons.

The two older ones hardly even notice you at first, too occupied with arguing and rowing with each other.

“Boys!”, their father speaks up, successfully catching their attention. Rather comically their gazes fall from their father to you, their eyes widening and their mouths dropping open. You were not what they expected. While Greg looks just shocked, you would describe Rodricks state as mesmerized.

He recovers fast, pushes Greg off of him, stands up, and puts on what he hopes is a charming smile. Extending his hand he starts to introduce himself.

“Hi, I’m-”

At least he tries to.

“Rodrick. I know. My brother has told me one or two rather interesting stories about you”, your smile is sharp. He gulps, his confident smile turning sheepish, cursing Rowley in his head. You are not what he expected and you are definitely not anywhere close to being a female carbon copy of your, in his eyes, embarrassing younger brother.

He normally wouldn’t consider himself the kind of person who has a type, but from now on, if someone asked, he would probably revert to describing you. You were just ethereal, everything about you was attractive to him. The way you walked, talked, and carried yourself, but also your clothing and hairstyle. Your pretty face just rounds up your whole appearance, making you all the more alluring.

He had to get on your good side. While a family dinner, especially with Greg present, may not be the best opportunity, he could ask Rowley to put in a few good words for him. That kid was easily influenced (or intimidated). Still, making the best possible impression over dinner wouldn’t cause any harm either.

You turn to the other boy who has been silently watching the exchange. Now that your attention is on him he starts feeling nervous as well. Your expression, however, turns a bit more friendly.

“And you must be Greg.” he nods. You introduce yourself and lastly say hello to Manny who is sitting on the floor playing with some figurines. By now the others have entered the room, causing Susan to start leading you all to the dining table.

You’re seated between Rowley and Greg, across from Rodrick, which results in quite frequent eye contact. On one side you really want to intimidate him a bit. This could maybe make your brother's life a bit easier, at least for the time being. On the other side, you do want to make some conversation, maybe throw in a bit of (family dinner appropriate) flirting or at least find out if he’s single.

It’s really hard to hold a grudge against someone who is entirely your type.

While you’re conflicted, Rodrick, on the other hand, is sweating. Nervously fidgeting in his seat. You didn’t seem as irritated with him anymore, if the eye contact was anything to go by. Was this his chance to redeem his shitty first impression? He cursed his brain for failing to come up with something cool to say.

Since when is it so hard to talk to girls? Is it getting hotter in here? What impresses girls? What does he normally brag about? His band! That’s it. Now he just has to bring it up somehow. Maybe he can bribe Greg to ask him about it. No, that’s too risky, he can’t count on Greg to not fuck this up. He is just going to casually bring it up ‘I’m in a band by the way, pretty sick huh?’ ‘Do you like music? Cause I’m in a band’ No that’s stupid everyone likes music… ‘Which kind of music do you listen to?’ That’s good, he should bring up the topic of music first, that’s a normal conversation topic. After that step two is to bring up the band. That’s easy, he got this.

Now he just needs to wait till your attention is on him again and then he can smoothly lead the conversation in the desired direction. He has to calm down, he can do it.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Your eyes meet again.

“I’m in a band!” He speaks way louder than intended, his voice is squeaky, and in the middle of the sentence he has the most embarrassing voice crack imaginable.

Silence.

The sole attention is now on him. All he hears is Greg's snickering which causes him to kick him under the table.

“Ow!” That was not Greg's leg. He looks up to see you looking at him with a questioning expression.

That’s it. He fucked up. His chances were already low, but he still managed to shrink them even more, making them most likely completely vanish. Great. His ears were ringing, all he can hear is Greg's quiet laughter in the background.

“I'm sorry I didn’t mean to kick you, I-” he starts his apology but loses track of what he is trying to say when he sees your expression change. You're clearly trying to suppress a smile, but it's not working at all.

“You’re adorable.” Rowley chokes on his food, and Greg's laughter abruptly stops

“Rodrick? Adorable?” That’s it. Greg gives up on ever trying to understand girls. How can his stupid older brother embarrass himself like that, then kick the poor girl under the table and still be perceived as adorable by her, especially since she is so much out of his league?

Rodrick however, was still not functioning properly.

“So that band, is its name by any chance Löded Diaper?”

“Yeah.” He is proud of himself for speaking at an appropriate volume without stuttering. “How do yo-”

“I saw your creepy white Van in front of the house. What’s up with that, kidnapping little kids as a side hustle?” You are still smiling, and with your stupid joke you somehow manage to relax the atmosphere a bit, the adults going back to their conversation.

Rodrick too is now smiling, looking at you with an expression you could only describe as lovestruck, even though you just insulted him.

He is contemplating making a joke about how the space in the back could be quite useful for more than just trapping kids but decides against it, fearing to make it awkward again. Getting nervous about taking too much time to come up with an answer he instead lands on “No only kidnapping pretty girls like you.”. As soon as the words leave his mouth he regrets it, realizing it's in fact not a funny and flirty thing to say, but honestly rather creepy.

At the end of the evening, Rodrick has messed up flirting with you multiple times, however, it’s his luck that you find his desperate attempts to look cool to impress you weirdly endearing. Not that he realizes that. Calling Rodrick confused, questioning why you were still talking to him, would be an understatement.

He certainly doesn’t know how he can have messed up so many times and still end up finding a little note with your number on it in his pullover hood after you left.

[a-spes]

T H E B L O O D O N M Y H A N D S - One shot.

Words count - 3,2k.

Tags & Warnings - Natasha Romanoff x reader, angst / comfort, a form of self-harm, mentions of death and blood.

Summary - When you kill someone on duty for the first time, Natasha is the one being here to stop you from falling.

— — — — —

You haven’t been a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent for long, barely more than three years. It may seem long for some people but, in that kind of job, it is not. Although your training ended up a long time ago, your teammates are still calling you a Rookie because even after years of duty, you still have a lot of things to learn, some the hard way.

You guess this nickname will stick with you until a new recruit joins the agency. It has been three years that no one passed the entrance exam so you are still seen as the newest addition which pisses you off sometimes. It is frustrating to not be taking seriously just because you are a bit less experienced than your teammates, some of them only been on the agency for one more year than you but are acting cocky with it.

However, despite your teammates’ attitude, you are convinced you are right where you are supposed to be : even if some days are rough, you love this job. Honestly, you never planned to join the agency but now you are here, you don’t want to leave.

You have always dreamed about becoming a police officer, not some kind of governmental spy. You ended up here thanks to a bit of fate and, mostly, thanks to the help of one of your professors. At the police academy, you were doing great, you were among the best of your promotion, that is why Mr. Andrews suggested you to take the entrance exam for the S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy. Before that day, you had never heard about the agency, but you still decided to give it a try, it was the least you could do to thanks him for everything he did.

Surprisingly, you succeed the exam and earned a place at the academy, alongside with two of your classmates. You weren’t sure it was what you wanted to do, but it was probably your only chance to give it a try so you went to the academy, thinking you could always leave if it doesn’t suit you. Yet, it has been the best decision you made.

Surely, you doubted it sometimes, thinking about quitting because the training was so hard, both physically and mentally, that you thought you couldn’t take it anymore. But you stayed, not being alone helped you a lot so, even if you doubted a lot your decision, you never regretted it.

Until today.

One day was enough to change everything. The first rule in the job is that you know nothing. Every mission is different, every mission could go wrong at any moment, it is impossible to be prepared to what it could bring to you. After three years of duty, you tend to forget about that rule. Up to now, everything went smooth, except for a few injuries you got, you were lucky.

It was supposed to be a routine mission, not much different than the previous ones. Your team was supposed to take back some important documents, so you needed to infiltrate the hotel the guys who stole it were staying.

“I get it”, you whisper in the communication device.

But when you are about to leave the room, you hear the voices of two persons. You don’t have much time, so you decide to quickly hide under the bed, you wish there was a better place but all you can do is waiting here, praying they won’t notice your presence. However, it seems fate is not on your side tonight.

After maybe ten minutes of waiting that felt like an eternity, you eventually feel someone pulling you from under the bed by grabbing your legs. You may be a qualified agent, but they are way more experienced than you are. You were listening to their conversation but yet, you couldn’t have guessed they knew you were here the whole time. Racing heart and irregular breath are the signs of panic, but you can’t let those take the control of your body, fear is a synonym to death. Take a deep breath, think and attack before they can.

It is quite easy to escape the man’s grasp because he wasn’t expecting you to be so fast. But the man wasn’t the problem, it was the woman with him. She was aiming that gun at you while you were fighting with her mate, not shooting yet because she could’ve killed him instead, but as soon as you stand up, she doesn’t hesitate anymore.

It was a reflex.

She missed the first bullet because of the circumstances, because she couldn’t clearly target you so the bullet passed closed enough. Except she doesn’t look like someone that misses an easy shot and you don’t look like someone who wants to die so you shoot first.

It was a reflex.

It is the first you kill someone on duty. Three years of duty during whose you ensured that you wouldn’t kill anyone. You get them out of the way, you hurt them, sometimes you knock them out like you just did with that guy but you never took a life. But tonight you did, for the first time. Tonight, you didn’t aim for that woman’s leg but for her chest, right where her heart is, she died almost on the spot. It feels awful.

On the way back to the base, you are silent. Your teammates don’t even notice how quiet you are tonight. The two sitting on the front of the car are talking, the last one is humming some music. The mood is light because the mission was a success: you did bring back those documents. So why aren’t you joyful? You don’t know, but tonight you don’t feel like joking, laughing and jumping around as you usually would.

Tonight, you won’t celebrate with your mates because there is nothing to celebrate. A woman died. It doesn’t matter which side she was on or if she was aiming that gun at your head because you shoot and it makes you no better than the people you despise. When you joined the Academy, it was to save civilians, to make something good about your life, you wanted to feel useful and make a difference. So from the moment you became an agent, you avoid killing people. A part of you knew that, one day, wouldn’t let you choose but you didn’t think much about it; if after three years you didn’t kill anyone, it’ll may stay that way until you end your career.

Oh, how naive you were.

Maybe you are too gentle for that world. Your mates kill people and you never saw them hesitating, so what’s wrong with you? Can’t your mind just shut up? It is not that a big deal, is it? It is supposed to be your job, you did what you had to, right? So why does it still feel wrong?

You are a person that easily slip on other people’s shoes. Those people called villains are nothing more than people that got lost at a moment in their lives, people that were failed by the system or made a wrong choice, does it mean they deserve to die? Some of them, maybe, but definitely not that woman. She was barely older than you are, she had a whole life to live but she will never get you because of you, because you decided she didn’t deserve to live.

It is something your superiors often blame you for: your inability to shot when it is needed. It is not because it led to failed mission, but because it caused you a lot of injuries that could have been avoid. They never understood why you were so reluctant to do so, sometimes they are angry, sometimes just disappointed. But tonight you eventually did exactly what they are expecting from you. That’s what you are repeating to yourself but it doesn’t make you feel any better, if you hate the idea of disappointing Agent Romanoff, your superior, you probably hate your actual situation even more.

This moment is playing again and again on your mind, making you oblivious of your surrounding. The sound of her body falling is covering your mates’ voices. The way her chest raised one last time before she stopped moving, the way her eyes were wide open and the blood. Everywhere. On the ground, on her suit, on your hands. A bit of your own, but mostly of her, who knew a body contains so much blood? Not you.

When you are finally back at the compound, the redhead is here. Even if you are not a trainee anymore, you are still a rookie until they decide otherwise and she will probably be your mentor for a few more years. And being your mentor means that wherever you are, she is. Today was your first mission alone. Well, you weren’t really alone, you had your usual team by your side but she wasn’t here. At first, she didn’t want to let you go, wherever she is, you are, but she let herself be convinced. This mission couldn’t wait more, neither could the emergency call she got.

The mission was easier than some you did by the past, she knows you are capable but still, she can’t get over that strange feeling, being scared for you security. She knows she can trust you but can she really trusts your mates? She is stressing over the fact that, for the first time, she isn’t here to protect you.

She is now regretting her choice, it was irresponsible from her to agree to such a demand. She has no idea what exactly happened during the mission but she heard that things didn’t go as smoothly as they were supposed too. She is pacing back and forth on the garage, waiting for your team to come back. She tried to get more information from Fury, but he doesn’t know much more than what he already told her.

A few hours later, the team is eventually back. When her eyes catch you, she is relieved: you seem fine. Her relief only lasts a moment as she quickly notices something is off with your attitude. You ignored her, didn’t even looked for her as you would usually do.

“What happened?” she asks to one of the agents that was on the mission. She grabbed him by the arm, forcing him to look at her, she is taking the whole situation seriously.

“She fired”, he replies, shrugging.

The man doesn’t really understand why it is such a big deal to you, after three years, you should be used to that kind of things happening in a mission. However, Natasha immediately understood.

She rushes to find you but it is already too late. She can’t find you on the locker room, neither she can on your dorm or on the common areas. It is on the shared bathroom that she eventually finds you. She can’t help but being worried. She was really young when she killed for the first time, but she still remembers how it feels, years don’t take away the guilt and the disgust. The difference is that she never got a chance to think too much about it, she was raised to kill, it felt almost normal after a while, she got used to that feeling You, however, are not of that kind. It doesn’t matter how skilled you are: you are not a murder.

“What are you doing?” she asks, frowning when she saw you here.

Scrubbing. That is what you are doing and the only thing left in your mind, you are just obsessed with the idea of cleaning your hands. So you are scrubbing. You are scrubbing until the water turns clear but it doesn’t, it stays red and bloody. It seems there is always more blood on your hands.

You are so focused that you didn’t even hear the woman coming in. Your ears are ringing and your vision is blurry because of the tears in your eyes, the only thing you can see clearly is the blood, all this red. You are using a nail brush in hope it would help you get it of the dirt? but it doesn’t. It just hurts.

A pain that you ignore.

A pain that you feel like you deserved it, like it is the only way to get those memories out of your mind, even if it is just for a moment, you are glad to be able to focus on something.

However, Natasha is not. As soon as she realizes what you are doing, she steps in. She turns the water off, wrapping her hands around yours to make you stop, as her attempts to talk to you failed. She slowly takes the soap and the brush from your hands, putting it on the sink.

For a few minutes, you remain silent. You don’t even dare to look at her in the eyes, how could you? The guilt and the shame make you avoid her gaze, a part of you being scared about what she could say or think. Maybe she sees you exactly as you do right now: pathetic and horrible.

“Let’s clean those wounds”, she eventually says in a quiet voice that surprises you because you thought she would be angry and yell at you. Or maybe it is what you wished she would do. It is easier to hate yourself when people do too.

But she doesn’t.

On the contrary, she is sweet and caring, an attitude that is rarely hers, Agent Romanoff not being someone showing that she cares the usual way. She is usually demanding with the people she cares for but she understands that tonight you don’t need that. Right now, what you need is someone by your side, someone to guide you through that situation.

So she makes you sit on a stool. You don’t protest, there is something good in not having to think about what to do next. She comes back with a few seconds later with medical kit. She sits in front of you and, in silence, she starts to take care of your hands. You scrubbed them for so long and with so much pressure that the blood at the end wasn’t the woman’s anymore. It was yours because the brush scratched your hands.

“Here we are”, she says once she is done. She cleaned your wounds with alcohol and then applied bandages on your hands. She seems to want to add something, but she hesitates. “Do you want to talk about it?” she eventually asks.

You shake your head, no. You don’t want to talk about it, you don’t want to hear about it, you don’t even want to think about what happened today. If it was possible, you would like to erase this day from your mind or turn back in time so you can change the outcome, but you can’t.

Natasha sighs but she doesn’t push, she knows it is not the solution. Instead, she guides you to her quarters.

“It is not my room”, you remark when you get here. It is a one person room, one of the privileges of being a superior.

“No, it’s not”, she acknowledges, “but I am not leaving your side.”

“You don’t need to do that, I am gonna be fine”, but she doesn’t let you go. As you try to leave the room, she firmly hold you by the arm. You staying here wasn’t a question, not even an invitation, it was more of an order.

“No, you are not. And after what happened I don’t trust you, at least not tonight”, she tells you and she is not joking at all. She has that serious expression and you know she won’t take no as an answer. You want to be alone, but deep down you are relieved you won’t spend the night alone.

She helps you take off your suit. She then helps you to put on some of her clothes, a short and a t-shirt, so you are ready to go to sleep. It is already late, midnight was long gone. She guides you to the bed, it is a bit small but it is just for one night and you don’t seem to protest, you just let her guide you, your mind being far away.

The two of you are leaning in the bed in silence. Her chest pressing against your back, her head near to yours. She is holding you firmly, as if she was scared you could run away. You stay in that position for a moment before your voice breaks the silence.

“I- I don’t even know her name, I barely saw her face and-” you eventually say, feeling the need to let a bit of what is in your mind out. You are exhausted, but you can’t even close your eyes to try to sleep, those memories and thoughts keeping you wide awake.

“it’s okay”, she whispers in your ear. She is not sleeping either, too worried about you for that. She already knows that she is going to stay awake the whole night to keep an eye on the woman she is holding in her arms.

“No!” you yell. You can’t stand how calm she is. “No it’s not, how could it be okay? I killed her. I killed a woman and I don’t even know who she was.”

“It happens, sometimes, you have no choice”, she continues to talk in a quiet voice, soothing you by stroking your hair. She knows nothing she could say right now would make it easier. You need time and support, all she can do is being here and let you know she is.

“I do, I should’ve aimed for her limb or…”, you start, but you can’t even finish your sentence. You feel your throat tighten, your voice broke on the last few words.

“You did exactly what you had to. You did exactly what you had to stay alive. I know it is hard but you will get through it, okay? And I am gonna be here, with you, the whole time”, she whispers again in your ear, her voice calming a bit the storm in you.

This is how you eventually fell asleep. In the comfort of the arms of that woman, with a feeling of security. The way her hand is brushing your hair calming your mind until Morpheus accepts you in his realm. The words she is whispering in your ears are helping to ease the guilt and the hate. However, Natasha won’t sleep. She is going to stay awake the whole night just so she can be here if you wake up needing her, no matter what time of the night it is, she wants to make sure you are not alone because it is the worst in situations like this.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

☠️ Something Dread, Something Red: Chapter One

Something Dread, Something Red: Stuck in a proposal to a Marine Commodore, you escape minutes before your wedding in one last ditch effort to avoid getting married to a tyrant. Barely making it to the port of your town, you stumble across a ship just starting to leave and beg for passage off the island. You fail to notice that the people you beg for help, are pirates.

Warnings: Allusions of Domestic Violence.

To Note: “Red Haired” Shanks x FemReader

Word Count: ~2.6k

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The night is darkest at dawn. Just before the first rays of the new day strike the horizon, the night draws infinitely black, offering the last bit of night before being smothered by the sun. You love the silence it brings, giving you a break from the cumbersome and structured life you live. Yet that indulging peace is fleeting, never long enough for you to taste what you truly long for, only taunting you with something that you’d never reach. Sighing, you rest your chin on your gathered knees and enjoy what will be your last sunrise at Bonn Manor.

You’ve been born on the grounds, raised in its elegant halls, and soon, you will be married in its chestnut grove. The wedding has been planned for nearly a year, your engagement? Years. Everything has been meticulously designed down to the length of a single blade of grass. Your mother is a bit of a control freak, and she hasn’t let you put in one word edgewise—and it’s your own wedding! Not that you are surprised, you’ve never once had the pleasure of even choosing your own outfits or meals.

In hindsight, it saves you many a headache for you haven’t lifted a finger in the entire process. The florist has been given strict directions on what bouquets, boutonnières, and accents should look like, not to mention the flower choice. The bakery in the heart of your island has no doubt been working overtime to supply the cake and other specialty confectionery, and the tailor has almost moved into the manor to finish the work on your dress.

Your dress.

It has been in production for nearly eight months. Your town, Kuri Island, while known for its chestnut trees, is also famed for its lacework. Leagues and leagues of lace have been stitched just for your dress, and that doesn’t even include your outrageous veil! It is enormous, beaded, and decorated with innumerable cloth flowers. Your mother really hasn’t spared any expense, tutting that this has been her lifestyle dream to see you married to a powerful man that will ensure that your noble bloodline continues to prosper.

That and the family business. The Bonn’s have a monopoly on the chestnut and lace industry on Kuri Island, ruling with an iron fist and ensuring that they remain the most powerful on the island. Your fiancé is the next in line, power-wise. As a Marine Commodore, Thomas Collins is the only man on the island worthy of your hand… and in just a few short hours, he’ll have it.

But not by your choice.

This is an arranged marriage drafted by your parents when you were just a teen, to a man very much your senior who cares little for your feelings. Worse? He isn’t a good man, or a good Marine. As much as your mother has tried to control the whispers that reach your delicate ears, you know the reputation Thomas has among the commoners. He isn’t a good man, he has a habit of cruelty to those far beneath himself, and you’ve even heard rumors of bribery. But politics and Berry have trumped over your personal feelings. You can’t refuse this marriage; your opinion can’t even leave your lips.

Just as the sun begins to rise above the horizon, your maids bustle into your room followed by additional ones to tackle the great task of getting you ready for the wedding in a few hours. Ann and Gerbera, your personal maids, hustle over to you. While Ann scans your lavender bedhead, Gerbera takes your hand and inspects your nails.

“I haven’t gone and ruined my nails,” you murmur, not taking your eyes off the glow of the morning sunrise.

“Your mother requested an inspection, my lady,” Gerbera replies, scanning your immaculate fingernails. “Lest you had made an attempt to flee during the night.”

“And where would I go?” you ask vaguely, your eyes taking on a faraway and clouded look. The maids often see it appear within your eyes the closer the wedding draws. They are not oblivious to the matter that you don’t wish to marry Thomas. They have most definitely witnessed your private breakdowns over the years as you slowly realize that your life has never been your own. They are good to you, excellent maids who take pride in caring for their lady… but they can’t even move a single finger to help you in your predicament.

“Never mind that, off to the baths,” Ann softly preens, trying to find light in the fact that you will be glowing with beauty once they are done dressing you for your wedding. You let Gerbera pull you from your lonesome and brooding perch, guiding you through your rooms to the grand bathroom that already steams with scented water. You can smell the strong scent of rose and argan oil rising from the bubbling water. You’ve been taking baths thrice weekly to soften your skin to that of the finest satin on your mother’s orders, and have started hating the scent. It makes you nauseous. This will be your last so you will bear it.

Standing in place, Ann and Gerbera delicately undo the strings to your nightdress, pulling it from your body to leave you naked. You don’t hesitate to step down into the bath. The hot water does very little to ease your growing nausea and discomfort. You know it won’t. But at the very least it feels nice on your stiff body. You have sat at your window for hours without moving, your mind spinning and descending into the dark depths of the pit of hell you’ll soon be living in.

Gerbera kneels behind you and takes your long lavender hair in hand, gently running an ivory comb through the tangled strands. You wince every time she catches a knot. Gerbera murmurs an apology each time and carefully unravels the knot of hair. Your lavender locks aren’t usually a mess, but you’ve tossed and turned all last night before getting up a few hours ago to wait for the sunrise. At the very least, once you are married you’ll have more control over the length of your hair. The extraneous length is cumbersome and almost like chains to weigh you down. Well, almost every part of your life is some sort of chain or prison.

So while Gerbera continues to tend to your hair, Ann takes to massaging oils into your hands and buffing your already immaculate nails. They take extra care in placing dabs of oil in key places on your body. Behind your ears, along your neck, and across your wrists. As you walk, the oils will diffuse into the air around you, perfuming you and leaving behind the scent of rose. A scent that drowns you in hatred. It is always rose this or rose that. Rose jewelry and rose dresses. Even a rose-themed bedroom!

If you never smell another rose after this blasted wedding you will die a happy woman…

You stay in the bath as long as you’re allowed, but the strict voice of your mother ringing from your bedroom has Ann and Gerbera pulling you from the bath and wrapping you in a towel. They dry you off in record time, no doubt saving you from a stern lecture, and wrap your wet hair in a drying towel. The three of you wince when your mother’s voice turns sharp and she nearly starts shrieking at the poor girl who added an extra rose to your bouquet.

“It’s not even seven o’clock yet and the madam is already angry,” Ann murmurs, almost hesitant to push you back into your bedroom.

“It’s a perpetual state I believe,” you reply, twisting your fingers together. “The day she is pleasant is the day the world has ended.” Toweled dry, you don a robe and reluctantly head back to your bedroom. Your mother is still harping on the poor girl who got the number of flowers wrong in your bouquet when you appear. She rounds on you like a viper and you have a brief momentary thought that she might give herself whiplash.

“You!” she barks out. “Why are you not sitting down for your hair and makeup?” You remain silent and simply lower yourself to the velvet and satin chair in front of your vanity. She continues to berate you for things you have no control over and complain over nonexistent errors. It will be all over in a few hours; you’ll trade one jailer for another.

Your hair is dealt with first. Being so long, it takes perhaps nearly half an hour to brush it out smooth and braid it. Then it is swirled and pinned into place upon your head with crystal-studded pins that dig into your scalp in a painful reminder. You’ve been complimented on how lovely the crystal and flower pins look within your lavender-colored hair, and combined with the minimal makeup being painted upon your face you are sure to look the picture of perfection.

“Heavens, Linaria, could you at the very least respect your mother enough to get sleep during the night!” Your mother huffs, fretting and tutting over the bags beneath your eyes the makeup slowly conceals. “I have worked tirelessly to perfect this wedding and I will not have you ruining it with an unsightly appearance.”

“Yes, mother,” you reply obediently. Her eyes, echoing your own but with a much harsher tint, narrow and she scoffs.

“Knowing you, you’ll make a scene at the reception or even ruin the vows. Commodore Collins isn’t expecting a wildling for a wife! He is expecting a well-bred, well-taught, and docile wife to meet him at the altar. Do not disappoint me.” Your eyes meet hers in the mirror for a brief moment before you drop your gaze. Your silence isn’t the answer she expects and taloned nails sink into your pinned hair, yanking your head back.

Yelping, your fingers dig into your robe as you are forced to look into her cruel and hard eyes.

“Am I clear? You are to behave, Linaria, do not disappoint this family again,” her warning is well and clear within her eyes. This is the last one she’ll give you. Swallowing thickly, you agree in the softest voice.

“Yes, mother,” your hair is released and you take in a silent breath of relief, grateful that she isn’t tugging on your hair still. You are sure that a few of the pins will have to be righted after her harsh hold.

“I have to greet our guests, get her ready to dress,” your mother snaps before striding from your bedroom in a swirl of heavy skirts. Rubbing your neck with a slight wince, Ann takes place behind you and quickly fusses with your hair to return it to pristine condition.

“We beg you, my lady,” Ann pleads, her fingers gently placing the pins back in order. “I fear what will happen to you the next time you go against the madam.”

“And where exactly would I go at a time like this?” you reply, looking at Ann in the mirror. “The manor and grounds are crawling with visitors, the help, and guards. I have nowhere to go. Besides,” you glance at the wedding dress on the mannequin in your room. “You think I could run in that? The thing weighs more than I do soaking wet.”

After Ann and Gerbera get your hair and makeup just perfect, they’re dismissed by your mother’s personal maids. She doesn’t trust you with your personal maids and has ordered her own to see to dressing you. So you are alone with maids that have no issue enforcing your mother’s orders. They have you get up and stand in the middle of your room, fluttering around while gathering up the layers of your outfit.

You are already in your underwear and bra, a decorative set that your mother has insisted you wear for the wedding, so when you peel the robe from your body you aren’t especially shy. Valeria, your mother’s favorite, brings over the heavy dress and with the help of Clover, maneuvers the top of the dress over your head. Despite being made from airy lace, the bones of the ballroom dress are metal and ridged, structuring the dress in the precise way your mother wants your body to look.

As you place your arms in the three-quarter sleeves with layered lace and starched silk, Valeria’s fingers are quick to work on the strings of the corset. She tightens it immediately, making a small noise of pain emerge from your lips, and only draws the strings tighter and tighter. As elegant and beautiful as you may look, you feel like you are being tied into a jail cell. Clover joins in on tugging the corset tight, and the bruising tightness only grows worse.

You want to bite your lip as your ribs begin to screech at you, not liking the pressure. But heaven forbid you turn up to your wedding with bitten and chewed lips. Clenched fingers it is. Several minutes later, after being jerked around and squeezed most viciously, the extravagant veil is being pinned into your hair. Another weight to add. Valeria departs to report to your mother while Clover remains to watch over you. Walking over to the grand mirror in your bedroom, you stare at yourself in dread.

You look like a trussed turkey heading for the dinner table.

You can admit that you look beautiful, the shape of your waist cinched in and the wide neckline decorated with fabric rose buds accented your collarbones. Months of work on the lace detailing has pulled out a wedding gown fit for a princess… or a lady from a very rich family. But you can’t enjoy your beauty, you can’t giggle or dance as the skirts of your dress swirl around your feet. You can’t enjoy anything about the dress, no matter how expensive or luxurious it is.

By some grace, an extra maid pokes her head into your bedroom with a red face. She begins rattling off a bunch of issues with minor details of the ceremony space that your mother is throwing an absolute fit over, and Clover glances at you with a worried look. You can see her thought process. She is supposed to watch over you, but the wedding will not commence without everything being perfect. Well, it isn’t like you are going to go anywhere. So Clover quickly follows the maid, leaving you in suffocating silence.

Suffocating is an understatement.

Your heart is trying to beat its way out of your chest in pure fear. You have but a mere fifteen minutes before you will be truly locked in an inescapable prison. If you thought it was hard to breathe wearing this dress it is nothing compared to the looming doom that is mere minutes away. Your eyes flicker to the balcony of your bedroom; the doors have been locked after you tried running before… but with the cleaning of the manor in anticipation for the wedding, they are no longer barred from use.

Memories of what happened to you as a result of being caught and dragged back to the manor flicker into your mind. You’ve never been in that much pain. Fear of repercussion prickles in your veins, rooting you to where you stand. Eyes catching sight of the tops of the ships harbored, your throbbing heart leaps into your throat.

“I’ll never have another chance,” you whisper to yourself, desperation winning over fear.

Date Published: 11/13/23

Last Edit: 7/29/24

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[punkpandapatrixk]

Slow Mornings~♪

Hello lovely peeps. I'm popping in to say that I'm so sorry I haven't been as productive as I’d hoped. I had all of these plans, and literally 3 years’ worth of content ideas, but my body has not been able to catch up! I’m now behind on all of the readings I’d scheduled for the entirety of October XD

The truth of the matter is a little bit convoluted but I’ve been both experiencing a series of burnout—autistic burnout, which I didn’t even know was a speciality thing—as well as being in this healing phase where my body simply wants to catch up on sleep, after years and years and very long years of being on edge. There was a meme I forgot to save that says something to this effect:

'Your body is healing from years of trauma; you’re not lazy. You deserve this peace.’

Actually, the above could as well be a mash of two—or three—separate memes LOL Here’s another good one from a sub maker that I feel captures just thee vibe I’m feeling right now:

‘Maybe you're simply perceiving how a lovely sensation of closure & calm gently fills the air around you, feeling a little sleepier than usual. Or maybe you can sense how a massively positive change is coming, seemingly eager to go with it and that's great as well.’ – The Witch of Drown Shadows

I believe many of you reading this could relate as well. A new beginning is on the horizon for sooo many of us who’ve been on a soul-search to liberate ourselves from the chains of the toxic Matrix. I hope you're doing well, and excited for what's to come before the year even ends ^o^v

Forget the grind, leave behind soul-sucking deadlines, and enjoy the slow mornings~♪

Naturally, I’m going to be more productive again once I’m done stabilising myself—all mind body and spirit aligned. I’m not saying this out of a sense of ‘obligation’; that all people ideally must be a productive member of society. No, not that. I really want to get productive on this blog because I’ve a shit ton of good content in the works XD

I’ve so much new content on career, luck, character glow-up, soulmate friendships!!!, celebrity life, life purpose and other esoteric shit I’m eager to put out \^-^/ Not to mention the fiction that’ll go on Wattpad. I’m making progress on Punk Panda Stories but slow…very slow XD

For now, I’m aiming to post one PAC every week without fail. I’m just going to expect this much from me in the meantime, so as not to burn myself out on the psychology level just yet. When you expect too much from yourself, the stress could deter any progress instead, right?

This is especially true for those who don’t necessarily have a deadline. But that’s the thing, I don’t wanna strangle myself with deadlines anymore. So I’m not gonna work like that anymore. This ain’t 9-5 corporate, girl. Stop thinking like that! Is what I’ve been telling myself. Gotta change the whole way I approach my soul-work~♪

Until the end of the year, I’m teaching myself to enjoy slow mornings™️ I’ve been starting my day with just cleaning myself and my room; having a breakfast of lemon tea w/ a dollop of strawberry jam + a CVS croissant; playing a game on my dusty-but-trusty old PSP when I’ve got the time; and reading a few chapters of an actual book.

In the afternoon, I’ve been back on teaching myself ballet and strengthening my vocals. It’s nice. I feel very healthy and like myself again, but better <3 We were born into this world to enjoy our hobbies and hopefully, ideally make money alongside those hobbies <3

Never forget that, girlies. Hard work doesn’t suit us <3

How the Boredom Epidemic Ruined Hobbies by Nicole Rudolph

[euphorajeon]

twenty-seven.

You turn twenty-seven this year.

The first time I had known of you, it was from a birthday live in 2015. I clicked on the video randomly, with zero knowledge about you and Bangtan, and I was confused. Why are these boys so loud but not the birthday boy? I didn’t know anyone’s names back then. Didn’t know your personality. Didn’t know how much you’d mean to me in the coming years.

You turn twenty-seven this year.

You were nineteen when I saw you in concert for the first time in my life. Twenty that year, actually, but still nineteen in April—the month of the concert. Your hair was so different back then, the style the one we used to say coconut head, but your smile remains the same. Wide, bright, and the light still reaches your eyes where they twinkle in glee. My memories of that night are a blur—but the brightness of your smile while being on stage, I’ll never forget.

You turn twenty-seven this year.

For the next couple of years, I watched you struggle before my eyes. You used to be so hard on yourself about your performance, crying over a minuscule mistake that no one but you noticed. It was heartbreaking to watch, especially knowing how hard you work for those performances. But over time, I watched you be more gentle towards yourself, now being able to laugh off the mistake that you do on stage. It was nice to see that you’re able to be at peace about those mistakes.

You turn twenty-seven this year.

Over the years, I have watched you go from someone who’s closed off to someone who’s not afraid of showing who you are. You used to hold onto fans’ requests and complaints like a lifeline, thinking they will leave you the second you say no. Now, you just tell those who complain to fuck off. (Not in those words, exactly. You were more gentle. Sorry that I’m not.) Also, this paragraph won’t be complete without mentioning the cursed green dishwashing gloves—that you ditched in favor of short-sleeved t-shirts two years later. Then two years after that, you let us in on the meaning of the art covering your arm. I couldn’t be more proud (and thankful.)

You turn twenty-seven this year.

And yet, your childlike wonder is still intact. For the past few weeks, I watched you feel excited over the smallest bit of things some people find mundane. The snack you’d found in an American supermarket. The kimchi and grilled fish in that Jeju restaurant. That climbing place that has you jumping around in joy. It’s refreshing to see you enjoy those small things, makes me feel like it wouldn’t take a lot to be happy. I hope you stay happy like this every day (even when Jimin scolds you for running around the supermarket searching for guacamole and tortilla chips instead of the sponge you initially planned to get.)

You turn twenty-seven today.

I hope your smile never dims. I hope your happiness doesn’t falter. I hope you have a great time today. I hope you know that we’re still here, staying with you, holding your hand, even when you’re currently away. We’ll never let go.

Happy twenty-seventh birthday, Jeongguk.

september 1st, 2024.

a/n: it's a veryveryvery late post but still, happy 27th birthday, ggukie!

masterlist

[shineonyoucrazyyandere]

Hey this is a bit of a weird one to explain but could you please make headcanons on how the main jojo's (cept for jodió ) would react with a willing!reader that's really curious about their stand/hamon and one days they develop an ability that's like the main villan of their part

For example eye lasers like part 1 Dio, Kars light blades and in puccis case they get white snake not MiH

Would they freak out? Would their attitude change in anyway?

One last thing please use gender neutral pronouns, sorry for the long ask

I could do a lil something for this. I’m hoping I interpreted right.

Yandere Joestars with willing! gn! Darling who manifests a similar ability to the main villain.

Yandere! Jonathan Joestar

He’s amazed at the manifestation of your hamon, or rather how you did so. He’s so sweetly proud of you, but the worries eat away at him at the back of his mind. How you fight and Dio fight are likely different, and he considers this in the back of his head. Not that he doesn’t trust your capabilities, he’s very overprotective basically wanting to be a big buff guardian angel.

He’d want to be there right next to you to defeat Dio once and for all. Definitely he’d tell you to keep the way you utilize your hamon on a lower level. As much as he hesitates in using it often, if it can be somehow gaged from weaker rays to stronger ones at will he might sleep much better at night. But he is absolutely not leaving your side whatsoever when working on managing it. Not even going to sleep, those are his stipulations.

Yandere! Joseph Joestar

Not lying he’s awestruck at your hamon blades, a little too giddy himself. He’s still clingy and overprotective but he knows you inside and out, and what he’s seen from Kars is another level of dangerous. He informs you to attack him like you want to viciously murder him, even makes it about marrying him if he lets you continue to help. He ends up on his tip toes through your “deadly sparring”.

He’s got a goofy grin the whole time, but there’s quite a few times he makes an audible gasp. He laughs it off and tells you not to behead your future husband just yet. It’s eerily similar to kars’s fighting style but he chalks that up to you being observant and honestly probably having a great grasp at Lisa-Lisa’s teachings. He loves you making him sweat though it’s cute.

“Jojo you need to take this seriously” you whined

“sorry sorry I can’t help it ” He teases back with a shrug

He’ll absolutely make sure to remember every vulnerable spot you do mention though. That will definitely be needed

Yandere! Jotaro Kujo

Even if you’re willing, he’s still heavily overprotective over you, at least until DIO finally burns into ashes. The way you seem to manipulate what looks like time in some capacity, may just spur Jotaro into unlocking Star Platinum the world much earlier. He only allows you to show it off to him and maybe his grandfather. He’ll verbally inform Kakyoin and the others himself of the potential that DIO could have something similar to what you have (or more in particularly Jotaro himself). Any potential complexities aside of course.

Figuring out that would at the very least save Kakyoin’s life without needing a sacrifice to figure out DIO’s stand

Yandere! Josuke Higashikata (pt 4)

He’s absolutely uncertain of you facing Kira in any capacity. It brings chills to his spine, freaks him out what that man could end up doing to you. He will protect you anyway he can and makes sure to bring the rest of the group together to plan around what similarities you have with Kira’s stand. He’s there squeezing your hand the whole time when you present your stand.

Absolutely he is actually trying for once to resist the urge to call it all off out of selfishness and find a way to kill this murderer once and for all. He hates that it had to be you of all people that had to have similar characteristics to this murderer. Especially if he would desire to target you due to adjacent abilities. Once this is over he’s giving you all the kisses he possibly could, (and a several minute hug that seemingly doesn’t want to end)

Yandere! Giorno Giovanna

This is something he absolutely wants you to rely on him for. If this gives any opportunity to defeat Diavolo along with Polnareff’s assistance, he’ll take it. He probably obsesses you the most out of all times, he knows your quirks and mannerisms. Memorizing them to the tiniest flinch of an arm, your intent, everything. Of course he keeps in mind of your ability, and inwardly applies any possible discretion that could get everyone killed.

He preferably wants to keep you away from this mess, as he’s certain you would ultimately be taken advantage of and killed if Diavolo observed you thoroughly. He can’t help but brush out your hair with his finger tips, looking into your eyes, drinking up your appearance. Any little smiles you give, assures him but he makes it certain to use it analytically as well.

For now he does pepper kisses alone your neck, and cheek. Just to blow off a little stress as you all head for an eventual final battle.

Yandere! Jolyne Kujo

She’s a mess, similar to Jotaro she wants to keep what you tell her to herself. As messed up as things are with are father, she likely also needs him to help kick Pucci’s ass. The more this woman watches you use this stand, her confidence goes up they can defeat this priest before he gets out of control. Her eyes stare into yourself with intense determination, she loves you, and she will be there every step of the way. It doesn’t even matter if your stand does similar discs or it’s something similar to a vhs tape. You’ll figure everything out together, she swears by that.

Yandere! Johnny Joestar

He reacts interestingly, he looks off coldly (not at you). More so in thought of this dangerous ability. The problems that could literally arise from bringing an alternate version of someone else here. You observe him in absolute deep thought of countless issues, including losing you most of all. He can’t have that, and he refuses to have that anyway.

Even if your stand is merely dimension hopping, or sending someone away that isn’t even in this universe. Johnny ends up freezing up out of ice cold determination to kill the president in the struggle race for the corpse parts. Though careful he could end up crushing your hand on accident just out of fury. You’ll probably be asked how you get there and might be bombarded with other hypotheticals. He’s sort of expecting a lot out of you, but at the same time it’s for your protection if he’s gonna be honest.

Johnny eventually mellows out a bit by likely laying his head on your lap. Of if he’s sitting up putting his chin on your shoulder. Enjoying your warmth as he gazes into the fire at camp in thought for the journey ahead.

Part 8 Josuke Higashikata

There’s a looming dark determination coming off him when he learns of your similar ability Tooru. Of course it puts you in the line of fire, but he and Yasuho-chan are ready to figure things out along side you. The irony of his darling having similar ability to his enemy hits deep, but everyone has a lot riding on this. He likely pats your head, maybe hums that little song you like him to sing. He tells you this isn’t just for Holly but for yourself too, he’ll somehow get around these calamities no matter what.

Honestly he probably gets a big emotional and ends up crying a bit. with you having to wipe his tears, almost like a kids. He cherishes this moment of closeness even with his fears and worries.

[mxtxfanatic]

Hello! I've seen some posts talk about JC's inferiority complex in MDZS, and there were a few things that kinda puzzled me a bit. The first was talking about how JC treated demonic cultivators post-WWX's death. That him hunting them down and capturing them were just (BS) rumors? That the original Mandarin wording in them implied he didn't really do anything that bad to those he captured? As in, no actual torture? (That he was all bark and no bite, apparently.) Even looking at when JC finally captures WWX, they spun the event to be something like "wow, yes, JC is so great at torturing people! look at him, using just a little dog to scare WWX instead of doing anything else!" What did the novel really say about all that? The other matter was more specific, to ch. 73? When JC and WWX stage their fight and then WWX's defection from the Jiang Sect. How JC then declares WWX as an enemy of the cultivation world? Did he really say something like that in the novel? What were JC and WWX's plans for their stated fight? Did JC follow those plans, or go awry? If the latter, what did he do?

These posts, in my eyes, seem to almost want to make JC look like he really wasn't as bad of a person. That his actions (in regards to WWX) weren't /that/ harmful. Almost of if the rumors in the book (and maybe in the "fandom" too), painted him much worse than he really is. Which, of course all JC stans want to make their "little purple grape" seem like he's so innocent and that even his bad behaviors actually weren't all that bad when you really look at them. (Here's me rolling my eyes.) I'm not a fan of JC, at all; I hate him, actually, lol. But the things these posts mentioned kinda make me pause. Yet given my bias against him, and my terrible memory, I couldn't really recall what truly happened in the novel.

Anon, whoever is saying any of this is just lying. Jc stans lose the battle with canon every time, so they start making up shit to make it seem like Jiang Cheng is actually a good person according to some super secret text only they have access to. Many times, they will even resort to gaslighting, such as with this example. Of all the mxtx novels, mdzs is the most translated by a variety of independent translators on top of the official, and they all say the same thing (with the exception of the official, which is another topic of discussion). You do not need to understand the original Mandarin to know the story, because every translation says the same exact thing. But if you want, we can still go through each point:

1) “Jiang Cheng doesn’t torture people! It’s all rumors!” and 2) “Jiang Cheng only goes after bad people like demonic cultivators!”

Debunked (go to the very last response in the thread): everyone around Jiang Cheng, even Jiang Cheng his damn self, acknowledges that Jiang Cheng kidnaps people to torture to death (because people seem to forget he’s a serial killer when discussing the torture). He also does not go after “demonic cultivators” at all. If he did, he would have sided with Nie Mingjue against the Jin on the Xue Yang situation. He does not. He only attacks people who remind him of Wei Wuxian or are surnamed Wen:

The owner, “No, no. It was his misfortune. The person’s surname was Wen, and that Sect Leader Jiang’s archenemy happened to have the surname of Wen as well. He’s hating on everyone in this world whose surname is Wen. Whenever he sees one, he’d grind his teeth in hatred, wanting to skin them alive. How could he give a single friendly look to...”

—Chapt. 92: Longing

3) “Jiang Cheng doesn’t torture Wei Wuxian!”

Debunked: locking someone in a room with something that makes them go blackout with terror counts as torture. Some people liking dogs does not mean that cynophobia isn’t real, and downplaying people’s actual phobias makes you a shit person. Also, Fairy isn’t a “little dog,” she is (apparently according to interviews) a Husky, and her presence is what Jiang Cheng uses to confirm “Mo Xuanyu” is actually Wei Wuxian before he brings her in specifically to torture him. Because once again, he knows how terrified Wei Wuxian is of dogs.

4) What happened during the defection?

Honestly, it would probably be best if you just reread Chapt. 73 because the lead-up to the defection is long and starts at Wei Wuxian having to prevent Jiang Cheng from potentially kicking A-Yuan, Jiang Cheng attempting to re-murderer Wen Ning, then him telling Wei Wuxian to return the Wen to the labor camps because he doesn’t care about fulfilling life debts if it gives him a bad reputation amongst the other sects. This quote is the end of all that convo:

Wei WuXian, “There’s no need to protect me. Just let go.”

Jiang Cheng’s face twisted.

Wei WuXian, “Just let go. Tell the world that I defected. From now on, no matter what Wei WuXian does, it’d have nothing to do with the YunmengJiang Sect.”

Jiang Cheng, “... All for the Wen Sect...? Wei WuXian, do you have a savior complex? Is it that you’ll die if you don’t stand up for someone and stir up some trouble?”

Wei WuXian stayed quiet. A while later, he answered, “So that’s why we should cut ties right now, in case anything I do affects the YunmengJiang Sect in the future.”

Or else, he really couldn’t make any guarantees on what he’d do in the future.

“...” Jiang Cheng murmured, “My mom said that you do nothing but bring our sect trouble. It’s true indeed.” He laughed coldly, talking to himself, “‘To attempt the impossible’? Fine. You understand the YunmengJiang Sect’s motto. Better than I do. Better than all of us do.”

He sheathed Sandu. The sword returned to its sheath with a clang. Jiang Cheng’s tone was indifferent, “Then let’s arrange for a duel.”

Three days later, the leader of the YunmengJiang Sect, Jiang Cheng, arranged for a duel with Wei WuXian.

They fought quite a fight in Yiling. Negotiations failed. Both resorted to violence.

Under Wei WuXian’s command, the fierce corpse Wen Ning struck Jiang Cheng once, breaking one of his arms. Jiang Cheng stabbed Wei WuXian once. Both sides suffered losses. Each spat out a mouthful of blood and left cursing the other. They had finally fallen out with each other.

After the fight, Jiang Cheng told the outside that Wei WuXian defected from the sect and was an enemy to the entire cultivation world. The YunmengJiang Sect had already cast him out. From then on, no ties remained between them —a clear line was drawn. Henceforth, no matter what he did, they’d have nothing to do with the YunmengJiang Sect!

—Chapt. 73: Recklessness

Notice how Wei Wuxian says tell the other clans he defected, and Jiang Cheng changes the statement to "let's arrange a duel." Also, keep in mind that everything after that conversation in the narrative reads like someone telling a legend: "They fought quite a fight. Negotiations failed. Both resorted to violence." The narration is depicting the duel the same way it depicted the opening prologue of Wei Wuxian's death: this is what the world was told about the defection battle after the fact, not necessarily the truth. Why do we know this isn't the truth? Well, Jiang Cheng had his non-dominant arm broken to make the battle seem real but also not to hamper his work too much:

Wei WuXian grinned, “How could it seem realistic if it wasn’t hard enough? It was your left hand anyways. It didn’t hinder you from writing. It takes a hundred days to heal a wound to the bone. It wouldn’t be too much even if you hung it up for three months.”

—Chapt. 75: Distance

Meanwhile, Wei Wuxian was gutted, something the legend does not mention at all:

Although he was stabbed in the stomach by Jiang Cheng, Wei WuXian wasn’t concerned at all. He stuffed his intestines back into himself and like nothing ever happened, he even got Wen Ning to hunt down a few malign spirits as he bought a few large bags of potatoes.

—Chapt. 74: Distance

Keeping in mind that Jiang Cheng still has a golden core, Wei Wuxian seemed to have put a lot of thought into how to injure Jiang Cheng in such a way that seemed serious but was actually superficial. Wei Wuxian treated the duel like it was staged. Jiang Cheng treated it like it was real and tried to kill Wei Wuxian. The only thing I'll give Jiang Cheng is that his "declaration" wasn't what damned Wei Wuxian; him refusing to stand by Wei Wuxian rescuing the Wen is what damned Wei Wuxian. The declaration was only the official statement that he had cut ties and everyone else could do what they wanted to his former shixiong.

So in short: stop letting jc stans gaslight you just because they're loud and repeat the same lies over and over again with confidence.

[shxtodxroki]

hi bee <3

i hope you're doing well babe and happy (early i think) birthday!

i am so excited to participate in another one of your events you have no idea

and this is such a great conccept ??? genius i love it and now i'm craving ice cream at 4.30 am

i'm all for surprises so i'm thinking

haikyu (shocking ik)

cookie dough and M&Ms

i feel like it's a great combination and i can't wait to see who and what it corresponds to

𝙼𝚎𝚎𝚝-𝙲𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝙱𝚘𝚔𝚞𝚝𝚘 <𝟹

Cookie Dough Ice Cream: What their meet-cute would be

Haikyuu - M&Ms: Koutaro Bokuto

Summary: Two different scenarios of what a meet-cute would be like featuring you and the one and only Koutaro Bokuto <3

Warnings: Possibly inaccurate descriptions of the gym but I did my best lol

Pairing: Koutaro Bokuto x Gender Neutral! Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Check out this birthday event here for request rules if you’d like to participate!

- Bokuto is absolutely the kind of guy you’d see in a meet-cute romcom omg he’s so perfect for this prompt <3

- Okay so I’m thinking of two adorable meet-cute scenarios with him so I’ll include both for both my gym lovers and those like me who aren't very frequent gym attendees

- So option one would be meeting him at the gym - you have a day off, so you decide to head over to get a bit of a work-out in, and as you make your way over to your machine of choice you catch sight of the absolute cutest man you have ever laid eyes on

- He’s bench-pressing and he’s sweaty and a bit red and yet he’s absolutely gorgeous to the point where you can’t seem to keep your eyes off him

- You literally stop in the middle of your walk without realizing it, only snapping back into reality when some rude passerby shoulder-checks you as you feel heat rush to your face at the realization that you had been blatantly staring at the gorgeous stranger

- Thankfully he seems very immersed in his work-out and doesn’t seem to notice, so you make your way over to your machine of choice while trying to let go of the embarrassment of acting like a lovestruck schoolkid and stopping to gawk at a stranger

- Your work-out goes on as planned after that, giving you the solitude and energy you need to get through the remainder of your tasks for the day as you wipe down your machine and prepare to leave and move on to the next item on your mental checklist

- But then as you’re leaving the super cute guy from before walks up to you and starts rambling a mile a minute, leaving you struggling to even process the flurry of words that are leaving his mouth

- “Hi I saw you earlier and thought you were gorgeous so I wanted to ask for your number but I was with my friend and he said that would be creepy and you might feel cornered or something so I figured I’d ask while you were leaving so you can walk away if you’re uncomfortable but you really are super hot and I was wondering if you’d like to go on a date with me?”

- And once you’ve had a moment to process all the words he just rapid-fired at you, you feel your face heating up even more than when you had been staring at him, and you just barely catch sight of a man with spiked black hair covering one of his eyes shaking his head in embarrassment to the side of your new gym crush as you attempt to find words for a response that wouldn’t make you seem like an absolute fool

- Eventually, you manage to spit out a somewhat casual-sounding “That sounds really nice” in response, your heart fluttering rapidly at the way his mouth spreads into a sunshine-esque grin as he scrambles to give you his number

- Sweet Bokuto was blissfully unaware that you had been borderline ogling him earlier, too, since he hadn’t been looking around in that moment and had been focused entirely on his workout, but when you two have been on a few dates you finally decide to mention it and the thought that you found him cute too just makes him so giddy it’s absolutely adorable <3

- Now if you’re not particularly interested in the gym, Bokuto would be one of those airport boys instead (I hope y’all know what I’m talking about and understand the unique spark of seeing someone cute at the airport lol) except the two of you actually connect and don’t just glance wistfully at one another before never interacting again

- You’re both waiting in an airport terminal for a criminally early flight, Bokuto for one of his team’s matches while you’re going to visit some of your loved ones

- And you’re both dressed in pajamas/comfy clothes and struggling to keep your eyes open at this hour - Bokuto in particular is all cranky because he hates being up so early and he’s not even traveling with anyone so he has no one to talk to to help him stay awake :<

- But as the two of you sit there in the terminal with half-lidded eyes in direct opposite seats, you catch sight of one another and accidentally make eye contact and it’s pretty much love at first sight oml you both think the other looks so adorable with their tired eyes and cozy clothes

- And usually Bokuto’s easily the kinda guy who would approach someone he’s interested in, but it’s so early and he’s so tired that his brain isn’t really working properly and he can’t even think of what to say to you, you’re just so gorgeous

- And you’re sitting across from him, sneaking glances but thinking that there’s no way anything could happen since you don’t even know if he lives here or is currently traveling back home somewhere else, so you don’t see the point of making a move

- But eventually Bokuto finds his opportunity, when he sleepily makes his way over to the bathroom and stops at a vending machine on his way back only for the machine to dispense two packets of his favorite chips by mistake - causing the gears to finally begin working inside his brain until a tired but distinctly and brightly Bokuto grin makes its way across his face

- And he makes his way back to where he had been sitting in the terminal while sporting that same grin, outstretching his hand towards you once he’s close enough to reach you as he offers you the spare bag of chips

- “Hey, that machine over there accidentally gave me an extra bag of chips, do you want it? I’d love to share my good fortune with the cutest person in this airport.” He offers with a silly grin on his face, one that makes your heart pound even as you try to tell yourself to be rational

- His flirting is a bit clumsy due to the early hour, and you’ve already reasoned with yourself why asking out a stranger in the airport who may not even live in the same country as you is a bad idea, but the look on his face as he offers the snack to you is just so endearing that you can’t help but take the bait, gently grabbing the bag from his hands with a soft, sleepy smile and a thank-you

- Of course, Bokuto sees this as his “in”, and as he sit back down in his spot across from you he manages to strike up a conversation - asking about why you’re traveling to your destination and going from there as he somehow manages to brush away your tiredness and ignite an incredibly pleasant interaction with you

- With him the time seems to fly by and before you know it, you’re finally preparing to board your flight, a surprisingly heavy disappointment settling in both of your chests at the thought of not seeing one another again despite only meeting an hour or so prior after having such a lovely conversation together

- But in your conversation you had learned that he did in fact live in your home country and was only traveling for work, so though the idea still has you a bit hesitant, you decide to push past your nerves and ask for his number, which he happily types into your phone while including a stereotypical and incredibly flirty heart beside his contact name 

- From there the rest is history, falling for Bokuto is so incredibly easy since he’s the kind of person who can draw anyone in and keep eyes and heart effortlessly captivated, but he knows from that first day in the airport that you’re the one he wants to dedicate his own heart to in return as his feelings morph from puppy love for you into something much, much greater <3

A/N: Aaaa first of all thank you for the well wishes and the happy birthday, today was actually my birthday and I’m really happy with how it went :> And I hope you’re doing well too! I’m so glad you liked the event hehe I had so much fun putting it together, and I was STOKED that Bokuto was the first request since he’s one of my all-time favs :> I hope you guys enjoyed this, I decided to extend my birthday event a few days since it took me so long to start on it so requests are now open until the end of May 20th, so get in your event requests if you have any, as well as any regular requests you may have! :D

Taglist: @ace-lavender

If you’d like to be added to any of my taglists, you can fill out this form here! Thank you for your support <3

[buddiebeginz]

Here’s another reason I’m confident Buddie is happening this season.

911 og and 911 Lone Star will essentially be competing with one another in a way that they didn’t before being on the same network. People might say well LS is in it’s final season so it doesn’t really matter but I’m sure it will matter to ABC if Fox can pull in higher numbers for the show they kept than ABC can for the one they took from them.

Despite all the talk about how homophobic Fox is they know Tarlos is a big draw for that show and will use them accordingly to get people to watch. They've already started using Tarlos on their social media to promote the new season.

No matter how much B*mmy fans want them to be their ship is not comparable to a ship like Tarlos. Especially not Tarlos in season 1 which had a lot of hype around them and was a will they/won’t they ship. I’m mentioning season 1 Tarlos because B/T is still a newbie ship like Tarlos were in season 1. Yet B/T hasn't had even half the development or promotion Tarlos did in season 1 of LS.

Despite how much a select few online yell about them B*mmy is just not a ship that is going to draw in a lot of new viewers. Some new people started watching the show after Buck came out but this was much more about Buck than B/T no matter what B*mmys say. Think about it you could replace T*mmy with any other guy and the reaction would probably have been about the same. That's because the big reaction (especially for people familiar with the show) was about Buck finally having his bi awakening. For those who were introduced to the show through clips of the kiss going around it was more of, oh look these two hot guys are kissing or oh look more queer rep let me check this show out.

Also listen to the things Oliver has said in interviews about the storyline. The messages he's been receiving from people have been primarily about people relating to Buck coming out later in life not about B/T. Yes some people like B/T and found the show because of their kiss but that's not the major draw and the ship is just not interesting enough (especially compared to other primetime couples and Buddie) to keep a significant amount of people tuned into the show long term.

Most primetime shows have a will they/won't they couple. For 911 that couple was Maddie and Chim for a long time. But going into s8 all of the big main canon couples are married at this point. I love all the couples on 911 and I love that they they're all settled and happy but the fact is happy settled couples don't bring in new viewers (Tim himself has even said as much before). So 911 is going to need a newer more exciting ship that will garner attention. If the intention was to have B/T be that new exciting ship I truly believe their relationship would have been handled a lot differently from the beginning.

Instead of them getting together pretty quickly I think things would have dragged out all season. Maybe after the bad date Buck and T*mmy don't meet for coffee and Buck thinks it's over only they run into one another again on a call and it's awkward. If they wanted to build the story and rope the audience in the show could have let us know there's feelings there between them both but neither wants to say anything. So they don't. Then Buck decides to go to a gay bar and runs into T*mmy again and sees him with another guy and that bothers him. And it's not until the end of the season that we get some big romantic moment showing that they do want to be together.

I'm saying all this to point out that if the plan was to build excitement for that ship 911 had time even in a shortened season and they didn't. Even if the intention was to leave us wanting more from B/T, just give us little bits of what's going on with them and fully develop them later in s8 they didn't do a great job with that either. Nearly every scene that B/T are in T*mmy comes across as a dismissive ass who just doesn't seem all that invested in Buck (including in the new deleted scene). They also had very little physical affection and often just didn't behave like a couple or even like two guys who are dating. I've seen people say that in scenes like the medal ceremony in 7x09 they would have never even known they were together if that was the only episode they saw.

My point is there is no way B/T can compete with Tarlos the only couple that can do that is Buddie. ABC and Tim know that if they even hint at Eddie coming out and Buddie canon no one will even remember that LS exists. The kind of attention that B/T has gotten will be nothing compared to the way the world is going to explode when Buddie goes canon. So many people (including a good number of B/T shippers who remain multishippers) have been waiting to see it happen for years.

This is no hate towards Tarlos and Lone Star who I love btw and I'm sad that show is getting canceled. I'm just pointing out that this is how networks think. I know Tim worked on LS for a while and I'm sure he still has love for that show and the cast but at that same time it's important for 911 to have high ratings if we want the show to continue long term.

I've been a fan of 911 almost since the show started and a Buddie fan pretty much as long. I've been hopeful in the past that Buddie could happen especially after the shooting. Which makes sense now given everything we've been told about how Buck was was probably going to come out in s4 and Eddie in s5. I lost a lot of hope for Buddie after s6 though. I wasn't even sure I wanted to keep watching tbh. Which is why I can't believe I'm at a point now where I feel more certain than ever that s8 will be our year. I know we've been hopeful in previous years but everything is pointing towards Buddie now more than it's ever been.

[your-regular-toast-enjoyer]

Headcanons: Cute things that Damian does for his beloved.

Damian Wayne x reader or Damian Wayne/reader

Word count: 1094 words

TW: GN reader, Damian might be a TW himself, but this is entirely fluff with a hint of slight angst in certain parts... but nothing TW-worthy...

Damian is an artist. I’m pretty sure everyone already knows that… He likes to draw pictures of you. Especially close-ups of your face. He’ll trace down the lines of your cheeks, and the curves of your lips, and pay especially great attention to making your eyes shine like a thousand stars. If you have long hair, he’ll be ecstatic to trace every line and wave of your strands. Even if you don’t usually put your hair up in elaborate styles, he’ll draw them for you just so that you can see how it’d look on you. Damian will never get tired of just staring at your face. You’re the most beautiful and wonderful creature to have ever grazed his sight. 

You might actually no longer need a mirror, if you both have more than thirty minutes before you need to go, Damian will make you a quick sketch of how you look today. From then on you can decide if those trousers really looked that good on you.

Damian is as blunt as can be. That doesn’t change no matter who he’s with. If you have dark under-eye bags, he’ll mention it, as well as call you an idiot and threaten you with “repercussion” if you don’t take better care of his beloved, (you)… He’s not kidding… If you have a tendency to sleep late, he’ll fold you tightly in multiple blankets, (like a burrito), at what he considers a proper bedtime for you. He’ll wrap you so tightly, in fact, that you won’t be able to get free, which is exactly what his plan was. Damian will then proceed to cuddle with you until you fall asleep. If you’re super claustrophobic, he might just settle for the cuddling. However, since he has nightly duties to tend to, your “bedtime” will probably be set at seven or eight in the evening, which is pretty dang early…so perhaps you should just take better care of yourself to escape his caring yet intense intervention. 

Damian will confront anyone who annoys you…especially if it’s one of his brothers or his father/mother, (Alfred is unlikely to be a bothering presence). Damian firmly believes that he’s the only one allowed to be blunt and rude towards you. If anyone dares to encroach on these rights, though, he will go wild… Let’s say one of your friends jokingly says something like, “Look what the cat dragged in” or any other playful jab at your personality, quirks or appearance…You know normal comments between friends… Damian will be hissing like a cat, claws out and ready to tear them a new one…metaphorically, he’s not one of those people who actually hiss at others… at least not anymore…  But! He will verbally attack them if they dare insult you… heck! If anyone insults you, (playfully or not), Damian is on the ready, arms up and ready to fight… Bruce has told him to please stop beating up random classmates just because they said they didn’t like a certain hobby or interest you’re really into… Damian doesn’t care.

Damian sulks… a lot. He’s always acted so much like an adult, even as a kid, so it’s kind of surprising how childish he can be as an adult. If you pay too much attention to one of his brothers, he’ll push them to the ground and drag you off, waiting for you to apologise. If you haven’t texted him back in a few hours, he’ll get concerned and put on his Robin suit before going to wherever he thinks you’ll be, (which is usually correct), just to make sure that you’re okay. When he finds that you’re fine, (which you usually are), he'll throw a mild fit and demand that you'll get a clearer ringtone. (If your phone was simply on "Do Not Disturb", he might just grab the thing out of your hands and turn the setting off himself. Glaring at you while doing so). If he finds you in your home, he’ll throw his mask at your head, before forcing you to sit or lay on your bed so that he can sulkily hug you close to his chest... A bit like a teddy bear.

Actually, most of Damian’s sulking stems from his fear of anything happening to you or that you’ll leave him. He’s experienced a lot of betrayal and death of those closest to him, so, he’s afraid that something of that sort will happen to you. At his core, Damian just wants you to be safe and happy in your relationship with him.

If you’re a fellow hero or sidekick… Oh no… Oh please no… Poor Damian will have a near heart attack every. Single. Day. He’ll beg you to quit, but if you, (understandably), refuse… well, Damian might resign his role as Robin to either work under whichever superhero who’s your mentor or simply become his own independent superhero... who'll just so happen to work alongside you. Yeah, he cares more about you than he does about protecting his title as Robin… the title he has felt destined to possess ever since his birth. If that’s not dedication, I don’t know what is…

Damian will definitely get a new pet and name it after you… It’ll probably be your favourite pet type as well… unless it’s something outrageous, then he might just get a rabbit and name it y/n. Then again… He does have a cow and a turkey, so his perception of outrageous is more than a little skewed… But yeah, that’s probably the biggest honour that can be bestowed upon someone in the mind of Damian… I mean Alfred the cat is a good example of that…

So, in essence, Damian is your grumpy little man… well, not necessarily super “little”, but he gives off short and moody energy, no matter his canon full-grown height… 

He loves you… even if he hates saying the word “love”... It feels disingenuous to him and much too insignificant compared to his feelings for you. He’d give away everything he loves and cares about, just to please you… But he’ll never let up on his passion for you. Damian is a ride-or-die type of person, he either adores you more than life itself or he’d kill you with a flick of his katana… No in-between. 

Anything you want will be yours, just say the word. However, if you’re the type who isn’t super materialistic, he might momentarily be confused. He’s used to people always wanting something which he can give within the hour. But your anti-materialism might actually attract him more since it gives him the opportunity to prove his worthiness and deep adoration in a myriad of other ways… Like reading your favourite book for you at night? Or make you breakfast on the weekends? Or massage your scalp and shoulders while you’re working on something else? He’ll do anything you desire, just say the word… or don’t, he’ll do it anyways.

[leonsliga]

I need to find a manu safe space. We do need to be planning for the future and I hate to see people turning on him even though he isn’t up to form but give him a reduced wage and transitional role for one year (Thomas stay as our super sub too please and retire together) I’m not ready to let my old men go

You and me both, anon. Maybe we can create a Manu safe space here together ❤️ if there’s anything the footyblr community is good for, it’s giving us a forum to talk about what (and who) we love.

I know he’s been injured more than his fair share in recent years (the football gods are very cruel) and even the great Manuel Neuer can’t stop time, but the way a few off-matches (particularly the one vs. Barça) have some “fans” forgetting everything he’s given Bayern, not to mention all the times he’s bailed us out of otherwise lackluster performances, is something I’ll never get my head around. I know when things go south, a lot of people’s first instinct is to blame the goalkeeper, and for a very vocal minority, that means slinging every possible insult his way in every public forum imaginable. But it doesn’t make it any easier to witness, especially considering we’re talking about a legend and one of if not the greatest goalkeepers of all time. We’ve heard it all before too, haven’t we? Even years back. “He’s finished”, “hang up the gloves, Neuer”, and “the football’s left him” are common refrains whenever Manu makes a high profile mistake. And honesty, those comments always make me go:

The thing about Manu though is that if you underestimate him, you do so at your peril. He’s always struck me as a perfectionist, and he’s never one to stand still. He knows better than anyone how he’s performing and what his weak spots are in any given moment. His tireless work ethic, his unwavering composure, and his unbridled love of the game have kept him at Bayern (& at the very top of his game) for more than a decade, and just when we start to think the man’s past his prime, he finds a way to prove us all wrong yet again. After all, that man can block out the noise like no other. He’s been called Nervenstärke personified for a reason.

I know we need to plan for the future though, as determined as I am to hold on to our legends for as long as I possibly can. I really like your idea of keeping Manu on in a transitional role if it comes to that. Selfishly though, I’m still hoping he’s just going through a bit of a rough patch at the moment (which can happen, he’s human), and that he’s still got some of that Manu magic left in him. And I know Thomas isn’t getting any younger either (don’t remind me 😭), so if we can keep him on in some capacity, even if it’s means he’ll be a super sub instead of a starter, I’ll take it 😅

Also, I’m totally with you; if our team dads don’t retire together I’m suing for emotional damage. They’re the heart and soul of the club.

Anyways, to end this post on a positive note, have an assortment of happy Bayern!Manu pics:

And, as for anyone else who’s read this far, feel free to join us in this little Manu mush-fest. This is a safe space, after all ❤️

[intoxicated-chan]

Seize the Day

♡o。.✿ฺ Paring // Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN!Reader

♡o。.✿ฺ Summary // Just Ghost falling in love and worrying about the worst possibilities. But memories of you keep him going, even in the worst moments.

♡o。.✿ฺ (A/n) // Inspired by “Seize the Day” By Avenged Sevenfold, did anybody hear the new A7X song?

♡o。.✿ฺ Word Count // 1k

♡o。.✿ฺ Content Warnings // Gender neutral reader, angst, mentions of abuse, mentions of death, blood, mentions of injuries, smoking, swearing, death…

Ghost always held himself back for various reasons, mainly because he felt like he didn’t deserve it. When he feels like things are perfect, he can hear his father’s voice in the back of head… Even with the bastard dead, he’s still haunted by the years living with him. Which is why he’s so used to letting what’s given to him go.

It doesn’t hurt him as much as it did years ago but he’s used to those he loved move on or die on the field. It’s the normal, it comes with the job, and he was so used to dying almost everyday, that’s until his heart warmed around you. But he cursed at himself for getting so distracted on the job! People’s lives are at stake and he’s silently fawning over you like some highschool boy.

It’ll go away soon… But soon turned into never. He shivered at the slightest touch, he leaned into you, and he practically begged you to patch up his wounds when you don’t have an ounce of medical experience. You learned only for him.

Ghost especially remembers one day, when he asked you to stay for a bit longer. It wasn’t the Ghost like you knew. You only knew the cold hearted one, stone cold killer or whatever but you knew deep down that he does have a heart. Even haunted by his past, he still has a heart that he’s clinging onto desperately.

He still felt guilty. But why? He wants to make sure you’re the one. Are you the one he wants to grow old with? Are you the one he’s willing to do anything to be with you? Or are you willing to follow him down his path? He couldn’t have you dying, he knew you wouldn’t die on the field, you’re one of the most skilled soldiers he’s ever met, he shouldn’t have to worry.

But what if he’s the one to go?

It’s the military, there always comes a mission where he may think it’s his last. Yet when that thought comes to his head, he focuses his attention on you, watching you analyze the plan and map of the location, organizing your weapons to make sure you have spares.

Then your eyes meet with his. You don’t say anything, and all you offer is a warm smile that makes all of his bad thoughts go away for a second. It’s until you hear Price’s voice, catching everyone’s attention is when you stop to look at Price.

“Have you ever thought about kids?” You ask Ghost, lying on your back while he sat up, cigarette in hand, “I-I mean… You know! I, um…”

“Calm down, Sergeant.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound rude.”

“I have thought about the idea of kids, just never wanted the idea of something bad happening to them because of me.”

You sit up, leaning against the wall and next to Ghost, “I know that thinking…” You take the cigarette from his hand, “And You’re wrong, I know you’d make a great father.”

Ghost felt weak, but not in a bad way. It was peace, that feeling that was lost so many years ago that he nearly forgot what it felt like.

He pulled his mask down before you could see the smile and blushing face, “...Thank you, Sergeant.”

“How long are you going to continue calling me Sergeant?”

“Until the day our relationship changes.” He mumbles.

“What?”

“I said…” Snatching the untouched cigarette from your hands, “Until you act more mature.”

You playfully scoff, “How dare you?”

“Oh, how dare I?” He plays along.

“I’m more mature than you!”

“Like hell you are.” Pulling his mask up just above his lips to smoke.

“I was the one who was able to get your injured ass out of that building.”

“While getting shot and ignoring orders.” He tells, tossing his now finished cigarette aside, “But there is a way for me to stop calling you Sergeant.”

You lean in a little, “What is it?”

“When things take a turn for the worse or when we nearly meet our ends, what do you do?” Ghost eyes remain in the distance, staring at whatever his eyes laid eyes on.

“Well, I try to think of all the good things that happened, what I was given during my time in the military. Sure, it sounds like I’m ready to meet my end but it gives me hope, a reason to not die, you know?”

Oh he knows. Memories that can be cherished but they can also be the best form of torture. If one day he decides to forget it all, your warm smile will always be there, always welcoming him with open arms.

Even as he coughs up more blood. He can hear shots fired all over the place, unable to pinpoint the enemy directly. Yet it’s the last thing in his mind when he feels even more blood spill past his soaken hands.

He lets out a dry chuckle, reaching for his radio to speak, “Soap.” He chokes.

Moments later, “Ghost! Thought we lost yer there.”

“There’s a letter… in my drawer, second to last.”

“Ghost?”

“Hand that to (Y/n) for me, will you?”

“No! I won’t, you’re coming out of ‘ere alive!”

“Listen to me, Soap.”

“No!”

“Soap-”

“We’re gettin’ you out of ‘ere! Tell me where you are!”

“I can’t do that, Johnny. But promise me, you’ll deliver that letter to them.”

Ghost feels his vision blur, his body getting weaker and weaker but he smiles, “Promise me, Johnny.” He receives silence, “It’s my final wish, I dream of nothing more.”

“Even if it hurts them?”

“Keeping secrets does as well.”

He wishes he could be the one to give you the letter, but life doesn’t go the way he wants to, sometimes people don’t get a happy ending. But… but he’s fine with that, even though he knows you’ll end up… He shouldn’t be thinking about that, only that smile you gave him hours before the mission.

“Ghost? Ghost, are you there?”

Even more when he wishes it shouldn’t end here…

© Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without permission.

[tatertotsafterdark]

Marking - Scott Howl x Reader

18+ MDNI. READ “CONTAINS” SECTION BEFORE READING.

|| Being a struggling college student sucks. Luckily, your werewolf boyfriend doesn't mind helping you de-stress - even if he gets a little too into it.

CONTAINS: AFAB READER, GIVING!SCOTT, RECEIVING!READER, BITING, MARKING, HICKEYS, OVER THE CLOTHES, NO AFTERCARE, MENTIONS OF MIDTERMS

Word count: 1k

Author’s note: IK I switched this fic from what was planned at the last minute but shhhhh... tried to put some characteristics of the Monster Prom writing style but I don't know how successful that was. Based mainly off the first Monster Prom game. (Ignore how the gif is monster roadtrip okay byeeee have fun reading or don't)

Midterms, midterms, midterms. Jesus fucking Christ. That’s all your life has been for the last few weeks, working on gradually revising your notes and studying for those God forsaken tests, worth a part of your grade that’s way too big. You slam your flat palms onto the desk in your small apartment, giving it a good couple of smacks. You’re frustrated, unable to grasp the topic you’re reading through. Why the hell did you have to take a math class? You hated math. Your major didn’t really use math, either. 

You groan as you hear a knock at the door, lifting yourself on to tired legs. Who visits this late at night, especially when you have a giant sign on your apartment door labeled “DON’T DEAD OPEN INSIDE?” You’d think by now people would catch on to your witty ideas of decoration and lack of availability. Maybe studying for midterms wouldn’t be so hard if you’d stop making interior design into your impromptu passion. 

Your hand quickly twists the knob, without giving much thought to check if there was some kind of evil monster or a serial killer or a Jehovah Witness outside of your door. Luckily, it’s none of those - it’s Scott! You manage a smile as his tail wags, and step aside, nonverbally inviting him inside. You can do that since he’s not a vampire. He quickly enters, wrapping his muscular arms around you.

“Dude, where have you been?!” He yells out, a large and toothy smile plastered on his face. You can practically hear his tail wagging, and you can definitely hear it hitting into his backside as it wags. 

“Studying.” You reply, returning the hug weakly and shuffling back over to the living room, lit only by a singular lamp (setting the aesthetic is an important part of studying, after all). You didn’t realize it until now, but your desk was piled with sticky notes, flashcards, notebooks, highlighters, pens in every color under the sun, and empty energy drink cans.

“Studying? Who even studies anymore?” Scott cocks his head, making that stupid-yet-so-damn-cute face at you like he always did when he was questioning your totally normal decisions. 

“I mean, c’mon, when was the last time you got some sun, bro? Your curtains are never open.” Scott says, a small pout on his lips as he looks down at you. You opt to ignore the comment about your currents, and instead huff and walk over to your desk.

“It doesn’t matter when I last left my apartment or opened the windows or anything like that. What’s important right now is that I teach myself everything my professor has been trying to teach us for the past few weeks.” Your ass hits the office chair a bit hard, which sends it backwards. The back of your chair hits Scott’s front, stopping it in its place. 

“You haven’t even showed up to the gym recently! You’re not getting any exercise.”

“I’m not interested in exercising. I want to pass these dumbass exams, Scott. Plus, there isn’t an exercise in the world that I actually like.” 

“Yes there is, bro, you know that.” 

“Great, Scott, then go ahead and tell me because you definitely know me better than I know myself.” You roll your eyes, and the action could probably be heard just off of the nasty tone you dip down into using. Swapping sleep for caffeine isn’t good for your mood, note to self. 

“Well, Polly says that sex burns calories, so therefore, it’s exercise.” 

You freeze up for a moment, thinking about the implications of the sentence that just slipped out of Scott’s lips. Was he implying that you two-? 

Before you can think much longer, one of Scott’s large hands is slowly massaging your chest, and the other is in between your thighs. He may be a bit academically challenged, but at least he wouldn’t be totally lost in an anatomy class. You can’t help but lean into the touch. It’d been ages since you’d gotten any action, even before you started obsessing over getting good grades on your midterms. Scott’s large fingers rubbing slow circles over your clit is enough to melt your brain, getting it off of finding derivatives, even if it was only for a temporary amount of time. 

“Shit- don’t stop- please.” You manage to get your voice to work in between pathetic squeaks and whimpers, and Scott simply speeds up in response to your words. You close your eyes, soaking in the much needed feeling of human contact. Two of Scott’s fingers find their way to the hard bud that’s developed under your shirt, gently twisting and pinching it as your moans get louder.

He buries his head into the crook of your neck, and before long, you feel fangs on the tender flesh. Love bites are completely welcome, of course, so you don’t complain. You run your fingers through his hair as he finishes you off, giving you much needed release without so much as undressing you.

“There, bro! Now you’ve got your daily workout in. Your studying is going to be way easier now.” Scott says with a proud smile, turning your office chair around to face him. The way his face drops, you can tell he’s totally marked up your entire neck to the point even a turtleneck wouldn’t be enough to hide it. Oh, shit. 

“Well… a workout is exactly what I needed. Thanks, bro.”

“Anytime, dude! Just, uh, make sure you have that color corrector stuff you were talking about the one time.” Scott laughs, turning on his heel and walking to your kitchen. You rub your fingers over the bite marks, and the fact that they’re indented into your skin is enough to tell you that any amount of color corrector wouldn’t be enough anyway. They trail up to just below your ear, so you’ll just have to hide away in your room and study for a few more days until they fade. 

You take a deep breath, turning away from Scott as he opens your fridge, and picking up one of your colorful pens for the umpteenth time that evening. 

[evita-shelby]

It's Only a Paper Moon

Diane x Bucky

Cw:allusion to premarital sex?

For @yorkshirekiwi

Based around this version of the song

She offers a carved flask, and he accepts it with a muttered thank you. She looked like Collen Moore with those eyes of hers, one brown, one blue. Very pretty too.

“Gin?” He asks after handing the flask back mostly empty. Tasted like Shelby Gin if you asked him, just as sweet as he likes it.

“My dad’s personal recipe.” The nurse said with a shrug and emptied the rest of it herself. The Shelbys were English, what were the odds the Shelby Gin heiress was the pretty nurse with the strange eyes sitting here with him?

If it had been a shit day for him, it would have been about as bad for her as well. Her hair is falling out of the impeccable bun she’d had on when they arrived, her uniform stained with blood and grime and looks older than she looked when he last saw her.

She doesn’t smoke, and yet she took a cigarette break. More like an excuse to just calm down before having to go back to the triage.

“Name’s John, everyone calls me Bucky.” He smiles and wipes a smudge of blood off her cheek with his sleeve.

“Diane, Nurse Shelby when I’m om the clock and Di when I’m not.” She returned his smile and Bucky knew he just had to take out this posh English girl dancing.

“Any plans for tonight, Lady Di?” he needs a drink, to sing and maybe even a fuck too. Good thing he had no prior commitments to keep him from doing that last bit.

Those RAF Officers would hate it so much if they saw him with her, wouldn’t they? What was it that they’d said, an American thinks he can fuck a duchess?

“Free as a bird, Major.” Lady Di answers and tells him where he can find her.

“Call me Bucky.”

They talk about him as if he were a Hollywood star, him and his friend, Gale. They had the looks and the charm, even if Bucky often did all the talking.

She wore pale pink with red earrings, red as her lipstick and her shiny heels that barely had her reach his shoulders. Not that it matters, John Egan was too good of a dancer to care about the disparity in their height.

He’s great fun, sings along to the music and yet knows his limits despite having the same intention as every man before him. She’d fuck him of course, she needs the release as much as he does, might as well send him off to die having had a great night.

“How do you live in a place like this, no sunshine no good food?” he asks ordering them both drinks. He knows who she is given by that grin when he gets them Shelby Whiskey.

“My mother’s foreign, from Mexico, and my dad is Romani, a gypsy if you aren’t familiar with the word. So, I get great food and I can always chase the sun whether on land or over the water.” She thanks the barkeep and wonders if he’s done his research on her like the some of the others have. “Besides, it has its charms, Arrow House is known for gardens and woods you can get lost in.”

Diane had done her homework on him, there was always a need to properly vet the people she slept with, especially since her father was in the House of Commons and his factories supplied so much for the war effort.

Perhaps made the connection between her and the gin. The Americans wouldn’t be so careless as to have him spy on her, or realize she was here to see what sort of shit the yanks weren’t telling the Crown.

John Clarence Egan, from Manitowoc, Wisconsin, born September 9, 1915. A shit singer, with a devil may care attitude that made you forget this war and not some movie. He had a girl back home, Josephine Ada Pitz, the first female pilot in their town. He was fond of Shelby alcohol, something that had cemented itself in the hearts of the American working class even before prohibition ended.

“The best of both worlds, then.” He said and proposed a toast to it.

“I heard you sing, Major.” Diane mentions and feeling her heart flutter when he grins widely.

“Like a donkey in a church choir, but it doesn’t matter if you’re loud. Do you, Lady Di?” Bucky asks with his eyes shining in mischief.

“How about you pick the song, Bucky, and I’ll show you?” No wonder the ladies here were crazy for him and his friend. John Egan could get dowdy Queen Elizabeth to jump into his bed if he set his mind to it.

“Paper Moon.”

Its not long before they’re sneaking around for more than just a few drinks and couple of songs that same night.

“You know what I want?” he asks as they move into the sparse woods on the base in search for privacy. The supply closet was already claimed, neither wished to risk their sleeping quarters and there was no way to go to the bed and breakfast nearest the base.

“I hope its not a virgin, Bucky.” She teases kissing him again and tugging him to her by his belt buckle.

“No, not that, Lady Di.” He presses her back to the tree, not caring they’ll be discovered and punished for this. But he’s a good kisser, and the rough bark turns her on even more. “I want to feel something other than whatever the fuck’s gotten into me, Di.”

“Don’t we all, Egan. Only a paper moon, isn’t it?” The singing, the dancing and the feel of understanding as they gave into their attraction for each other, all of that was just to sate their needs for the night and go their separate ways once it was over. Not that Diane judged him for it, not one bit.

They could die tomorrow and no one but a handful of people would care about it.

Only a paper moon sailing over a cardboard sky after all.

It becomes a habit, she is Bucky’s girl even if they are technically only friends who fuck each other and sing together.

She reads cards and knows the future, not that he’s ever believed in that bullshit, but she’s not been wrong when she tells him he’ll come back each time he leaves.

Wouldn’t be make-believe if you believed me, she sings when he doubts her predictions out of habit most days.

Still this is all a paper moon and she’ll move on soon enough. They all do.

“Won’t your girl back home be angry you’re singing and fucking an English girl?” Diane asks as they devour each other in the little bed and breakfast every soldier has used at some point. Before the Americans came in it was the RAF and before that just normal people with no fear of dying after.

“Shit’s been over since I came here, not the pen pal type, Di.” he hadn’t thought about Jo since he got command of his squadron and returned to flying. She’d sent some letters then once she saw he wasn’t going to write back, Jo stopped writing. They always do.

“Just making sure I’m not your dirty little secret.” The nurse assured him as their paper moon hung in the sky.

“Are you gonna come dancing tonight?” he asks once the moment is over and they pretend they don’t have other shit going on. They’re just another pair of lovers making use of the bed and its warmth.

“Only if you ask me nicely, Major.” She flutters her lashes and kissed him sweetly.

He likes her, likes the feeling of knowing she’s here waiting for him.

Strange how he sought her out so he could feel something else for a change, and got more than he’d even asked for.

Everything’s make-believe until you believe in it.

That night he gets the band to play Paper Moon.

He sings to it and she blushes feeling every single damn thing he is now trying to tell her. Perhaps she really was a witch, after all.

“But it wouldn’t be make-believe if you believed me,” Di sang softly, just to him, as she kissed him like she loved him.

“Do you want me to bring you back anything from my next flight, sweetheart?” he asks knowing whatever she answers won’t make sense until after his mission.

“Last nice thing you see in Algeria, preferably jewelry of some kind.” Her mismatched eyes gleam in knowing he finds it hard to believe her words.

John and those who survived Regensburg stay in Algeria for a week, and no matter how hard he tries he can’t find something nice for her before his tine there is up.

On his last day in Algeria, he buys a silver locket with a carved moon where he puts a picture of himself.

He loves her, as strange as it feels to admit it even to Buck, who only teases him for it.

“You should’ve gotten the ring instead, Bucky.” Gale jokes and Bucky hates to admit that he’s right, but there will be time for that if he is to believe his witch.

They celebrate his return with gin and she wears the locket as he takes her on the same tree they fucked against that first night.

He takes her picture with him on missions and likes the kiss she pressed on the back of it along with the lyrics to the last bit of Paper Moons as part of their inside joke. Bucky is a skeptic and no matter the proof to what she envisions, he still does not put much stock on her words.

He didn’t believe her that he’d survive this long, he is only about ten missions away from the holy number and she tells him she sees him surviving the war. Bucky believes that part after Regensburg, tells her himself as he grieves for his friends who didn’t make it.

“I wanted to feel something that night and now I think I feel something else tonight.” He admits as they sit under the tree, and he wraps his sheepskin over her shoulders even if he is the one not used to English autumns.

Gale may think the sheepskin ugly, but Diane likes the comfort of it, of John’s aftershave and cologne, the faint smell of his own sweat and even the detergent used to wash it. It is him almost as much as he is himself.

She wears it when he lets her, once she surprised him wearing only it at their little rented room. Bucky had undone the zipper slowly and kissed every inch he freed from its confines.

She loves him, and he loves her even if he cannot make himself say it outloud…yet.

“And what is it that you feel, Major?” the witch asks loving the way he smiles at her question.

“I think I’ve fallen in love with you, Lady Di.”

He believes her until he doesn’t.

“You have to be wrong, check your cards again.” He cannot believe her words.

Gale Cleven wasn’t gonna be shot down over Bremen. No, he couldn’t. Not Buck.

“I’m sorry, Bucky, I can’t change things just because you ask.” The witch said and put away her tarot cards after a fourth reading.

He shouldn’t have believed her, why did he do this to himself? He’d never believed in this bullshit and now he won’t.

Buck was gonna live, he wasn’t going to go down in his next mission because Diane’s psychic bullshit is just a fucking paper moon.

Bucky can’t even find the words to warn Buck that night and before he knows it, he’s been given a two-day pass to London. Di offers to set him up at her parents’ house since they’re not there, but he refuses because he cannot even look at her without being angry.

He can’t even tell who he is angry at, her, her cards or fucking God himself.

She gives him her address either way and after giving up trying to forget her with the Polish Widow who didn’t care he had his Lady Di; Bucky finds himself watching the bombs from the window in her bedroom.

Bucky Egan doesn’t wake until noon and calls from the telephone on the desk of Thomas Shelby MP OBE praying to God Diane was wrong.

“Norfolk 7322, please.”

Diane finds him crying and raging against God for taking Buck.

“I’m gonna kill those fuckers, for Gale.” He vows as he breaks apart in her arms.

“He’s not dead, you’ll see when you meet him again.” The witch assures him and he is too out of it to even consider she might be right, just as she was before. “I said he’d be shot down, not killed, Bucky.”

She stays in London while he returns to duty a day earlier than planned.

When packs her picture for his next mission, he reads what she wrote on the back of it on his birthday last month.

It’s phony, it’s plain to see

How happy I would be

If you believed in me

Bucky leaves without asking her how Munster will go and asks Crosby to give her his sheepskin for him.

When Diane saw what would happen in Munster, she could not speak.

He wouldn’t die, no, she’d feel it in her heart if he was, but knowing he wouldn’t be coming back from this mission has her doubting her own visions.

She loves him, loves him so deeply she cannot imagine a life without him in it. They’d joked about marriage, about he’d take his Lady Di and marry her in Manitowoc in the same parish he went to with his parents all his life, how they’d be Mr. and Mrs. Egan and have a daughter named Rosemary Gale after Rosemary Clooney and Gale Cleven because Gale’s a girl’s name.

Harry Crosby comes to give his condolences and Bucky’s jacket at her doorstep, but she refuses to accept his word that he’s gone.

“Bucky’s not dead, he’ll come back here. I’ve seen it.” She lies as she takes Bucky’s sheepskin and cries herself to sleep in it while humming ‘It’s only a paper moon.’

Lady Di keeps herself busy working as a nurse as if she were possessed until a letter from a prisoner of war camp in Germany arrives written by John Clarence Egan himself.

‘I need a new picture, Lady Di, I believed in you so much I lost it in a German field’, he writes and adds, ‘Buck says hello.’

Diane sends her picture with the same words as before and sprays enough perfume on her letter for it to still smell of her when it arrives several months after it should’ve been.

And because he believes her now, she works with the Crown and the Americans to keep him and his comrades safe until they’re brought home.

‘If you can stay put for me, I’ll let you take me to Manitowoc, Wisconsin, Bucky,’ she writes on the postscript of her letter to him. In the same letter she makes sure to name drop her dear friend Lilibet Windsor, the Princess of Wales, who agrees to send her regards if it means he and the rest of the prisoners are not executed by the Nazis.

“You were right, I should’ve picked the ring instead of the locket.” Bucky tells his friend who’s gone distracted by his Marge’s letters.

“Can’t be your best man nor you mine if we have a double wedding, Bucky.” Gale jokes after sharing his good news.

"Our girls deserve their own day, don’t they?” he laughs with renewed strength knowing he and Buck aren’t going to die in this shithole.

He consults with his witch, plans accordingly and so far everything goes well even if they have to wait until she finds what day is best for their escape.

When they escape on January 27th of 1944, he is humming Paper Moon to himself and tells Buck that’s going to be the first dance he and Mrs. Egan will dance at their wedding.

Bucky’s not been a whole day back on Thorpe Abbotts when he finds her waiting in only his sheepskin and the locket at their hotel room singing Paper Moon with two glasses of champagne.

She sings beautifully, she’d be a star if she wanted, but she’s perfectly happy as she is, as the soon to be Mrs. John Egan.

He’s bought the ring, a silver one to match the locket with moons carved all around it. Inside it says the same words as her picture.

“Only if you ask me nicely, Major.” She whispers knowing everything with those pretty eyes of hers.

John Clarance Egan elopes with her the moment the ring is done, on February 14th, 1945, with Buck as his best man and Diane’s best friend who came all the way from Margate, as her maid of honor at the dance hall with the chaplain officiating and the Valentine’s Day dance serving as their reception.

“I heard you sing, Bucky.” Allie Solomons asks, having only heard of him through letters and Diane’s words.

“Like a donkey in a church choir,” his wife grins and he took the bait.

“Pick a song, sweetheart, and I’ll show you.”