#my spam partner in crime

[meiloorunsmoothie]

me too, jeremy. me too.

[tofangirlonly]

[domibomz]

OG sad but also scary tomb lady is playing with her bones again She's royally pissed off

[mommyslilfrenchfries]

HAPPY 21st BIRTHDAY BIG DAWG!!!!

Quinton, I love you so so sooooo much, you’re so amazing and I can’t wait to celebrate with you tonight! Thank you for always being my ray of sunshine in the dark, the goofiest mf to make me laugh and thank you for all the amazing opportunities you’ve given to me. I will never ever ever let you forget that you used to be a cringy tiktok sway boy or how you used to dress like a weirdo but i will always stay by your side no matter what! You are one of the greatest people I’ve ever known and I’m so glad I get to call you one of my best friends. I’m sorry that I’ve given you a few shitty tattoos and bad hair cuts/dye jobs but I appreciate you being my practice dummy. Again, happy 21st birthday Q, thank you for everything you’ve done for me! I hope you have an amazing, wonderful, joy filled day, I love and appreciate you so much!

[ominouspuff]

Last Line Challenge

Rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like). 

Tagged by @chiliger (It’s on (again))

I have a few pieces I work on in-between bigger WIP’s, when I’m giving my hands a break from details — this is one. Concept-Maul design for my RepGA AU, from a sheet of concept designs for him. Last line was my signature again, but before that it was adding lines to imply a belt

I can’t remember who I’ve spammed forgive me: No-pressure tagging to @rackcty, @rooksnooks, @omaano, and my apparently-partner in tagging crimes @frostbitebakery (I have two more last-line tags from you don’t worry I haven’t forgot)

[lilislegacy]

*percabeth on a future quest*

percy: let’s introduce ourselves as different names, in case she’s heard of us

annabeth: okay, but you better not give me a stupid name, like last time. and let’s at least keep the first letters the same, to avoid confusion

*they knock on door of person they need to talk to

old lady: can i help you?

annabeth: hello, we’re here to ask you a few questions about your nephew

old lady: oh… i see. who are you?

percy: we’re private investigators. this woman here is the best crime-solving expert in the southwest, ariana grande. maybe you’ve even heard her name

annabeth: *internally rolls eyes*

annabeth: we just need to take a few minutes of your time. this is my partner, potential spam

percy: i’ll call later

[forensicheart]

One Way Trip

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: Max gets his debut in f1 and he wants his best friend to be there like they always have.

---------------------------------------------------------

You groaned as their phone buzzed, the screen flashing on and off as texts spammed through. When the texts didn't stop you lifted their head of the pillow to glance at the clock on their bedside. 4:02am it read. Usually you would wonder who was bothering you so intensely this time of morning but you knew exactly who it was. Before you could even reach for the phone to check the texts still coming through your phone began to rang.

"What in the world could be that important that you couldn't wait a few more hours to tell me Max?" You grumbled down the phone with tiredness.

"I'm in. I'm racing in f1!" This seemed to shake the tiredness right out of you as they sat up with shock.

"Tell me you're not messing with me Max" Max let out a short laugh, one full of shock and excitement more than anything.

"I'm serious Y/n, I'm making my debut!" A smile overtakes your face.

"Holy shit! Max, that's amazing!" The line stays silent for a moment as the two friends take in the exciting news, wide smiles on both of your faces. Suddenly the silence is broken.

"Come with me"

"What?" You responds confused by Max's sudden request.

"Come with me Y/n. You have been by my side since the beginning and I want you to keep being by my side" The silent resumes as you take in Max's words.

"But Max, I-" Max seems to be prepared for whatever you has to say though as he doesn't give you the time to finish.

"I know you would be leaving your family behind, your other friends, school, everything but please, I need you with me. You can visit your family and friends whenever you wish, we'll find a school for you or a way for you to do it online, I'll make sure you still get to do the course you've always wanted. We can make it work Y/n, I just want you with me"

"You're asking me to just drop everything and fly around the world with you Max, drop a secure and stable plan and life that I have here and go along with the craziness that we both know will come with this debut. I don't know if I can do that" Max lets out a sigh as you sit, stunned by how much Max wants you coming with him.

"Just, take some time to think it over, please?" You knows that Max will respect your decision but won't drop it till you make one.

"Ok, I'll think it over"

"Thank you" And with that the dial tone is heard and you let your arm fall to their side, phone still in hand as you glance at the clock once more, seeing it now reads, 4:28am. Might as well get a few more hours of sleep in before making the big decision.

A few hours later you wake up to the feeling of a weight making the bed dip slightly. You open your eyes to see your mum looking at you with a smile.

"Morning sweetie"

"Morning mum" You yawn.

"There's someone here to see you, do you mind if I let them in" You nod knowing there wasn't much use saying no and your mums gets up and leaves the room only to have Max enter a few seconds after taking the spot your mum had just been.

"Hey"

"Hey Max" You sit up to be face to face with Max as you rub your eyes free of sleep as Max fiddles with his hands anxiously.

"I'm sorry to barge in like this, I know I said that you could think it over but plans have changed and I've been asked to fly out in an hour"

"An hour? Max that's not enough time to make a decision that might change my life just because you want me with you" And you were right, you'd only been asked a few hours ago to go with Max and now you we're expected to have an answer in this moment.

You had just made it into your dream course at a high level university, you'd made friends you imagined would be life long and you were happy and settled here. But. Max was your best friend, partner in crime, your everything. How are you meant to make that choice so suddenly. As if you needed more reason to be so unsure you're suddenly pulled from your thoughts as lips met yours. Kissing you with passion that you'd never felt before, making your decision come clear with just the one action. But it still left you with one question.

"Why do you want me to come with you Max?"

"I already told you, you-"

"No Max. You told me why before you kissed me, now I'm asking again. Why do you want me to come with you Max?" Max took a deep breath, looking away from you but holding your hands tightly in his.

"Because I love you. Because I've loved you since the first day we met back in kindergarten, since you stood up for me as other kids picked on me for my outfit. And yes, it's cliche, it's so cliche to be confessing my love to you, my childhood best friend but I'm doing it because it's the truth. I want you with me Y/n, through everything and anything that comes at me, at us. I want you to be there for me and I want to be there for you too, I want you to have the life you've always wanted but selfishly I want you to come with me on this crazy journey for my dream life too and my dream life includes you" Max speaks fast but without stumbling and his little speech has you stunned once more.

"It's a one way trip Max, once I make this decision there isn't much room to turn back" You sigh as your hand comes up to gently grab Max's chin, making him look at you. "But I'm willing to go on this one way trip with you Max, because I know you'll make it my dream life just as much as yours and I love you for that, as my best friend and... as something more" Max gives your hands a squeeze, letting you pull him down slightly to kiss him and he pulls away grinning brightly at you.

"I believe we have a plane to catch" You chuckle as you look into Max's eyes.

"I believe we do"

[fiftiefive]

spamlikes; cl16

social media/instagram/mobile au, charles leclerc x reader

charles spam liking y/n instagram account and some fans reacting to it

yourusername_

Liked by charles_leclerc and 1,091 others

yourusername_ officially my favorite cafe

View all 11 comments

hardincruise price range?

June 23, 2017

yourusername_

Liked by charles_leclerc and 989 others

yourusername_ <33

View all 17 comments

claire_poetry pretty!

December 2, 2019

yourusername_

Liked by charles_leclerc and 1,220 others

yourusername_ sunny day today

View all 9 comments

meghan00_ book title?

March 17, 2022

yourusername_

Liked by charles_leclerc and 3,762 other

yoursername_ two years doing crime with the best partner ever (ps. stop stalking my account charles_leclerc)

View all 295 comments

charles_leclerc I'm on my way stalking your facebook now

yourusername_ NO

wanderingwizard omg f1 twt will be a disaster after this

44 minutes ago

[st4rwon]

stars and raindrops

ex!seungmin x reader smau

looking at the stars, the only thing seungmin could think about was you, that’s why he loved them so much. the regret of breaking up had filled your hearts, so when you run into each other after a year what happens?

“our memories become stars”

status: completed (6.13-12.20)

update schedule: nonexistent at this point 💀

contains: angst, fluff, misunderstandings, mutual pinning, obliviousness (on both sides), swearing, kys/kms jokes, jeongin being a menace to society, best friend changbin, mentions of drinking, happy ending!

a/n: this is my first smau so sorry if things don’t line up or it isn’t the best! feedback is appreciated <3

link are currently not working pls use the tag !

‧₊˚✩彡 proflies

1. seungmin’s living rent free in my head

2. stfu and go touch some grass

3. fuck

4. seungmin grew balls (w+smau)

5. bestie card revoked

6. whosyn

7.minnieisgone

8. don’t piss yourself (w+smau)

9. time to man up ig

10. my weirdo friend

11. scheming w @/iluvcats

12. best partner in crime

13. #notincluded

14. thanks ig

bonus. jeongin’s shenanigans

15. let my feelings go

16. home (w+smau)

17. we kissed

18. what are we?

19. on the main?!?

20. be my girlfriend?

send an ask to be added to the taglist

please don’t spam like posts, repost, translate, or use my work without my permission. all work is fictional and only used for entertainment purposes. © azurez 2023

[tgcg]

frequent tags:

randytime - "ooc" equiv. just 4 anything that isnt dk stuff. gets a lot of ghostposts. for filtering purposes comix - self explanatory. for sequenced stuff generally w dialogue. tabbydraw - for when i use my tablet to draw. otherwise i am using my mouse banksattack - for when banks does guest art cool people / cool shit - kind messages and gifts, respectively if u want to see all of my art i rec just using my homestuck tag🙂

Q. art program?

win 7-10 mspaint. sometimes i use photomosh, wigglypaint, and ezgif if i wanna add fun FX or movement. otherwise its mspaint exclusively. rarely i use jspaint. i recently am playing with photopea too.

Q. font used

the🙂

Q. why didn’t you respond my ask/prompt?

genuinely sorry i am overwhelmed by my inbox at da best of times so i only respond 2 stuff that rlly strikes/inspires me nowadaze. sumtimes i will come back 2 an ask months later. im kind of anal abt what posts i make to tgcg so if u want sumth to be almost definitely answered hit up @cgtg, idgaf wat i post there. i also archive shit i delete over there generally. plese dont spam me

Q. what do you think of [insrert thing] ? will u draw [insert guy]?

i prefer qs like this over at @cgtg hehe. i wil share my thoughts where i have em. im not much of an au guy & i wont take requests to draw non-dk on tgcg unless i specifcally make a post saying so🙂 otherwise, if u give me a tip on ko-fi i can do them there 2

Q. can i use ur art as icon / banner / in my thing

ya sure, all i ask is credit, do wat ever u want <3

Q. do you have a main?

no public main. i like my privacy d:) this blog can be described as a containment breach.

Q. I JUST REALISED WHAT YOUR USERNAME MEANS

Q. will you draw kiss?

Q. who is banks

my partner in crime. my evil shadow skeleton . see below

this will be upd8ed as i get asked more questiones. take care....🙂

[drkmgs]

TikTok live

Jenna Ortega x Reader

Warning: You'll die because of the cringe...

With this post, I would like to thank all the readers, who have been reading all of my work. I highly appreciate the likes, the reblogs the replies and even the requests. Also to my 430 followers, THANK YOU.

Stay tuned for updates!

You met Jenna at the set of the Netflix series Wednesday for Season 2. You had the role being her partner in crime, which created a great bond between you two. It did start as a friendship but it quickly developed into more than that and with you just starting in the Industry and Jenna being in the upbringing, both of you didn't want to mess that up, so keeping it private was a good decision.

Now being less busy and having time to just lay around and do nothing, you go on TikTok to waste time. When you didn't find any good videos to laugh about, you decided to start a TikTok live. You did send a quick text to Jenna, that you were going live on TikTok, so she could time her homecoming. You didn't bother to look if she saw it, you just went on and click the Live button. At first, you were sitting on the couch looking like a couch potato, you proceed to ask incoming viewers what to do.

They suggested a lot of things like singing, dancing, turning on some music, telling stories, or cooking. Turning on some music didn't sound bad, so you did. You started bopping to the beat and seconds after you were having a party in your living room. The little party did make you hungry so you told the viewers you'll cook something. You walked into the kitchen, still bopping your head to the music. You took out a ramen noodle package from the cabinet. You swiftly took a little pot and filled it with water, then put it on the stove. While waiting for the water to boil, you stared at your phone trying to read and answer all the comments.

"What is it like to work with Jenna Ortega?", your smile was from ear to ear.

"Well, she's incredible to work with. Her professionalism is remarkable. I mean come on guys! Before I got the role in Wednesday, I was a fan and still am!", you say, still having that smile on your face.

"Talking about me?", you flinched at the voice and at the arms that are wrapping around your torso. You quickly cover the camera with your hand. The music was so loud and you were occupied answering questions, that you didn't hear her opening the door. She intended to give you a quick kiss and hide but didn't mean to make a loud smacking noise. Both of you cringed at the noise and prayed that the viewers of your TikTok live didn't hear it. You could feel the vibration of your phone and you could tell that your TikTok live is exploding.

Jenna dashed into your room to hide and you continue your TikTok live, as if nothing happened, but your viewers didn't stop spamming.

"Who's with me?", you looked behind you messing with them. "Can you see stuff that I can't see?", you asked them and took the phone to show them around the apartment. "See there's no one", you show them every corner of the kitchen and living room. "My room?", you hoped that Jenna heard you standing in front of your bedroom door. When you opened it, you were glad she was already hiding somewhere. You showed them a quick tour around your room, not showing your desk where a lot of Polaroid pictures of you and Jenna were hanging, but you showed them your balcony where no one was hiding. You left the room swiftly and entered the kitchen, where your now cold water again was waiting. You let your TikTok Live run until you finished with your instant ramen and bragged about how good it looked, then you said your goodbyes and turned it off.

As soon as you turned it off, you called for Jenna. You see her peeking out of your bedroom, you snorted and called her over. She skipped over to one of the high chairs and took a sit in front of you. You smiled at her and pushed the bowl with newly cooked ramen to her. She gladly took it and started sipping on the soup with a spoon.

———

Well, you did expect fans to record your TikTok Live and made their conspiracy theories about what happened in your Live yesterday. The camera did capture Jenna's arms wrapping around you, so many of the clips you saw on TikTok were comparing it with Jenna's and other potential celebrities. Some of the girls that were compared were off-charts because you don't even know them or you only saw them at some awards show and had a little interaction. Then some videos are so accurate that you felt stalked or someone installed a camera in your apartment.

You immediately dismissed that thought, because you don't want to make yourself paranoid. You turned off your phone and turned your attention to the beautiful girl sitting beside you watching one of her favorite movies.

"This is the best part of it.", she says pointing at the TV while munching on her popcorn. "Yeah?", you reply, not looking where she's pointing at. She turned her head to you with a glare. "You're not even watching.", she says. "I am. I am watching the best part of my life right now.", you say starting to laugh because it sounded better in your head than out loud. "You just didn't say that.", Jenna scrunched her nose as she cringed at your attempt to be romantic. "Yup. I just said it. My baby. My sugarplum. My everything.", you added and engulfed her in a tight hug as she cringes more at your statement.

[meiloorunsmoothie]

strike!

STRIKE

where's the last one's exclamation mark

[tofangirlonly]

what if i spam your ask box back

gif fishing 🎣😆

[uncouth-the-fifth]

last child - Leon Kennedy/Reader

read it on Ao3.

Pairing: Agent!Leon/Detective!Wife!Reader Tags: more domestic fluff with leon, a touch of angst over leon's scars, passing mentions of drinking, leon being a fucking cheeseball, leon's obscenely handsome back. Words: ~3k Notes: hiiiiii. thank you all so much for you kind comments on the first drabble in this lil collection, i have never felt so inspired!! thus, here's more romantic bullshit with the guy. i'm thinking these will all exist within the same vague universe with detective!reader and husband!leon, especially because you guys gave me some very interesting ideas for him. this drabble in particular was inspired by emrurow, who suggested: "leon def has a whole package of scars from his missions and just imagine this scene where the reader is like gently caressing them and kissing them and its just so fluffly and sweet and vulnerable at the same time.........aghhhh." AGREED. now combine that with my strange urge to hose this bitch down with sunscreen. i hope you like the direction i took for this! enjoy <3

“Vacation” is a funny word in the Kennedy world.

When your work-buddies at the precinct bring up their vacations, it’s always a trip with the kids that’s months in the making, or summer getaways with the missus they’ve requested time off for. Always in the States and always planned ahead. The big joke in the bullpen is that the officer with the most cases closed this year will win a dazzling trip to Greece—but Leon has been to Greece, and he claims it’s pretty boring.

You think you’d find Greece pretty boring, too, if you spent the whole time there crawling around in the mud and hiding under enemy tanks.

So, no Greece for you. Vacations in the Kennedy world look more like this: Leon is cleared to go home, he somehow gets hold of your ever-shifting work schedule, becomes possessed with the urge to throw himself at the closest idea of “relaxing,” and springs it on you as a very romantic surprise. No elaborate itineraries. No plan. Just whatever consensus the two of you come to in the car, partners-in-crime escaping into the wind.

“So… Vegas?” You joke, slipping your key into the ignition of Leon’s precious Lamborghini Miura. So precious to him, in fact, that he avoids driving it at every opportunity.

The second he sags down into the passenger’s seat, your husband spams the recline button until he’s near-horizontal. The hand not cradling an ice pack over his nasty black eye curls loose around your elbow.

He scoffs, winking open his good eye at you. “With my luck?”

“Ooh, right. Bad idea then.”

Yeah. His track record with cars alone was impressive—he’d busted open two in the first year you’d been married, and you’ve been chauffeuring him ever since. Somehow, you don’t think Leon and casinos would mix.

You can’t resist the urge to pet his poor knuckles. These, too, were banged up. After a beat of the two of you filing through all of your available escape plans, you break the pensive bubble in the car by sweetly kissing his bruise-mottled hand. “Mwah. Where do you want to be right now, baby? Let me take you there.” 

Leon’s head had lolled to face yours, and for the millionth time since Racoon you’re struck by how bone-tired he always seems. He rasps with a tasteful touch of patheticness, “I want a cold beer and I wanna be outside. Wanna see you in a swimsuit, too.”

As straight-forward as a chainsaw, this guy. Hm. Your brows flick up at the picture he paints for you, and you lean right up to his face so Leon can see how unimpressed you are. “Do you want a sandwich, too, Mr. Kennedy? Maybe some—”

You go quiet even before Leon lays a kiss on you. It’s his hand that does it, long-fingered and twisted with damage, guiding you closer with enough painful tenderness to make a mote of sand feel special. Uhm. What had you been saying? You’d been talking, but… The touch wasn’t a little tap for you to tilt your head up, no—it’s just on the right side of needy, the heavy pads of his fingertips dimpling your jaw so he can pull you down to kiss him. Happiness tastes like spearmint gum. 

You part with a soft wet sound. Leon licks his lip and smiles, “No. Just wanna be with you.”

Well, the best place to be with him that involved cold beer, the grand outdoors, and one of your swimsuits was the lakehouse he owned up in Philly. The fact that he agreed to go there was truly a testament to how desperate he was to relax. The lakehouse wasn’t like his Lamborghini, your Prada sandals, or the boat bobbing in the marina back in DC—it was a family heirloom. One last relic of the old Kennedy money he never talked about. The most Leon had ever said about his inheritance was that it was “dirty,” and you don’t think he meant in the messy way.

Your husband’s secretive past aside, the memories you’d made here together were sun-warm and golden. If you were looking to make some extra money on the side, you think you’d offer up the place to the film crew of some wholesome coming-of-age movie. It was stupidly gorgeous. On a sunny afternoon like this one, the water was one horizon-wide mirror, making the whole day twice as sky-blue and shimmering. A pine-y breeze cooled the drying water on your back and fluttered through the heavy, low-slung trees reaching for passing paddle-boats. Hanging over the whole thing was Leon’s personal slice of the Appalachian mountains. He never said much about the house itself, but his childhood hiking the trails was free game.

Leon has a knack for escaping. He’s not nearly as good at vacationing. Lucky for him, you wrote the goddamn manual.

Your husband lays his chin on his folded arms and peers at you over his shoulder. “Like this?”

From where you’re standing rooted to the weathered wood of your jetty, Leon is a fucking vision. He lays out in the sun on his belly, lazy tomcat limbs loose and pliant on the dock. All you can make out of his face is the white, knife-straight scar on his chin, hidden by a feathery curtain of angel blonde hair. Even the tacky palm tree beach towel he’s laying on suits him.

…It takes you a second to answer, cause, yeah. Yes. That’s… wow. Holy shit.

“...Dear?” 

How can one word gush with so much smugness? Hoo, boy. He was a baby, honey, sweetheart guy. Not dear. For that, you slip off one of your foam flip-flops to smack him or something—but, of course, Leon swats it aside without looking. 

The innocent little shoe almost goes spiraling into the water lapping at the dock, but bumps into your cooler instead. A fishing boat just a few leagues out has arena rock radio on full blast. One of Leon’s hands taps out the drums for Hot for Teacher.

“Shut up.” You puff a strand of hair out of your face. “Is that really how you’re gonna talk to the person single-handedly saving you from sun-damage?”

“Haven’t saved me yet,” he gives a pointed wiggle of his poor, sunscreen-less shoulders.

As rebellious as you’re feeling, you do as told. He’s impossible to resist like this. Well, he’s upsettingly dreamy in any situation, but he’s at his worst when he’s all lazy and languid for you after too long apart.

“Let’s fix that,” you say, and uncap your tube of SPF 50.

Leon’s face drops back into his folded arms. You pad around his body on the towel, careful not to step on him as you take your usual seat on the small of his back. It’s then that the gravity of your task hits you. Why the fuck are his elbows attractive?

Bigger question: how are you going to survive the next fifteen minutes? It had been you in the skincare aisle this morning. Hell, your hand had gone for the lotion sunscreen over the spray sunscreen for a reason. In that moment, you knew how your decision would butterfly into the future, and that no matter what you would always end up here, staring down the gorgeous swath of Leon’s bare back. Un-sunscreened. Needing you to touch him. Ugh.

“My eyes are up here,” Leon remarks at your silence.

Your other flip-flop dings off his shoulder with a satisfying bounce.

“...I let that happen.”

You don’t doubt that he did, but it feels good to tease him. 

Burdened by the consequences of your actions, you slump forwards on top of him. He’s dinged up even back here, and there are strange, yellowing bruises patching around his shoulder-blades that you stoop to kiss. You understand why he only has the energy to lay flat on a towel like a fish. It looks painful, and not for the first time in your life you’re overwhelmed by the need to take care of him.

…He has single-handedly set feminism back at least thirty years.

Well. Dammit. You glare down at your husband’s stupid, beautiful back muscles. “I do this because I love you very much. Not because I feel obligated to as your wife, or cause’ of any societal expectations. Just because of you.”

Leon, still running on a dead battery, gives you a confident salute. You imagine eagles cawing overhead. “Yes, ma’am.”

Another loss for feminism: that gets a big, giddy laugh out of you. Maybe you just missed him, but his sleepy jokes are hitting the mark even more than usual. You’re still peeling with giggles as you drop a big dollop of sunscreen into your hand, and they don’t die down until you’ve spread it between your palms and begun to spread it out over his shoulders.

The tips of his ears have gone red. He warmly mutters, “Love that sound.”

Since it’s not every day that you get to indulge in your husband’s back, you take your time. He lets out a long breath when the cold cream meets his sun-warm skin, and in that one sound you hear weeks of pent-up tension already melting away. Leon has always seemed unstoppable to you. Even in his wiry rookie days, when you never would’ve called him wiry at all, he felt like he could plow through anything on a wave of willpower and spite. Now, that relentlessness has become physical. He’s plump with muscle all over. His back especially, so much of his weight as taut and ready-to-go as a bull on the charge. 

Or, in less words: he’s built like a brick shithouse.

But he is still, at his core, the not-wiry-yet-wiry rookie you loved. When you accidentally press into a new bruise, he makes a soft wincing sound through his teeth.

“Sorry, baby,” you utter. 

From then on, your touches go feather-light. You fan your palms down his slim waist and make sure his freckly shoulders get good coverage. For a while, the thoughts in your mind go somewhere far away and shapeless, focussed only on the task at hand. But the sunscreen makes his skin so shiny that all the little details catch more highlights than usual, and you realize, with a rising sense of discomfort, that all the things you aren’t allowed to know about him are laid out in front of you. There are loads of scars on your husband’s back that you don’t even recognise anymore.

The old ones are the ones you know. Most of them are nothing more than thin, pale discolorations now, just distinct enough to make out from memory. In a fucked up way, it’s fascinating: there is a sad old scar on the back of your hand from Raccoon, and when it passes over a similar jagged cut on Leon’s ribs, the two have aged together. But while you’ve gained only a few odd scrapes or dings being a detective in DC, Leon’s body is a whole new story.

They are not the neat, decorational scars an artist might accessorize a figure with. It’s all ugly, in inconvenient places that layer over one another, quick swipes, deep gouges, shallow bullet wounds, shredded lacerations, and more you don’t even have words for. Your heart plummets into your gut. You’ve seen these scars on him when they were still fresh bandages, but it only dawns on you now, stepping back to look at the full picture, just how many he has.

You swallow hard. “I’m so glad you’re home. Did I tell you that?”

Leon hums a yes, but it’s a dragged out, suspicious sound. He’s quick to sus you out. Nobody in the world can read you better.

You’re shooed off his back with a hand, and when he lumbers off his belly to sit up and face you, the sliver of black-eye you catch underneath his ice pack cuts you deep. He hasn’t opened his free arm for a whole second before you’re darting underneath it, his body tacky with sunscreen where it melds with yours. Your finger swirls around the oldest bullet-scar on his arm.

Leon takes a slow pull from his beer, squishing your face a little where it’s tucked against his shoulder. The bottle taps against the dock. Tink. Always, always, he has to joke with you first. “You’re making your worried face. Stop thinking.”

Your voice is muffled by his shoulder. “You can’t even see my worried face.”

“Then you’re making your worried silence.” Disappointed, he asks, “Where’d all your giggles go?” 

The reply that your mind loads up for him is an unfiltered, pained, I hate that you’ve been in so much pain. But telling him that would only be stating the obvious, and in the grand scheme of his mission and his self-bound duty to protecting other people, (never himself, never ever himself), it feels like a stupid thing to say.

You’re not sure what to say. Instead, you drag your finger down a raised pink scar on the back of his arm, laid neatly with connective tissue like rows of embroidery. “...What’s this from?”

Leon has to check to know which one you’re talking about. Squinting at his arm, he plucks through his memory before guessing, “Pulled a girl out of a fire.”

That is exactly what you figured he’d say. Sure, he’ll chatter your ear off about Aerosmith and Italian cooking to no end, but the second you even blink in the direction of his work, the chatter dries up. All that’s missing is the smart-mouthed segue—

Leon pulls a smug face. “She’s a virologist now.”

“Ashley isn’t graduating until next year,” you roll your eyes.

That earns you a one-arm shrug. He’s still glimmering with pride. “She’ll be a virologist in a year, then.”

It’s never what gave him the scar that he remembers—it’s why he got it, what cause he took it for, that he never forgets.

The arm wrapped slung around your waist goes for his beer again, and this time Leon squishes you extra while he takes his sip. When that doesn’t succeed in sparking another laugh from you, he drops all pretense and resorts to tickling you, pinching your side and keeping you fished against him when you shriek and squirm away.

“Leon!”

“What!” He groans. “I’m trying to have a little R&R and you’re brooding. Enough.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” you scoff—and then scream in outrage, because Leon decides he’s had enough of you and attempts to push you off the dock.

The only reason you don’t go sploshing into the drink is because you get a good hold on him first, and if you go down, then so would he. Between all that playful wrestling and shouting, Leon tugs you into an insistent kiss. And because this is him, the center of all good things in your world, you come out of it warm-faced and giggling again, your cheeks aching with a bright grin. He never fails to make you laugh.

You slump back on the beach towel, still twitching with little laughs. Just to win some of your dignity back, you reach past him and steal a long sip from his beer, shaking your head at him the whole time. It washes down your throat bubbly and wonderfully cold. “So mean.”

“C’mere,” Leon pats the space next to him. And knowing precisely what he’s doing, he hits you with one of the closed-mouth smiles you never see and assuages all of your worries with one, “My sweet girl.”

Hook, line, and sinker. You join him on the end of the dock, (weary of any mischievous hands that might shove you in), feet dangling over the edge and dipping into the pleasant, swaying waters. The breeze on your wet skin is almost too chilly, so Leon’s sun-warm body spooning up behind yours is the ultimate balm. You bask in your personal space heater for as long as he’ll let you, and he presses lazy kisses to your shoulder as you squeeze him close.

There’s a long, scraggly white line snaking up his wrist. You outline it with a finger. This is one of the ones you were there for, back in Raccoon—Leon took a bad hit for you, pushing you ahead of him so you could get to safety first. You’re curious to see what he’ll say.

You tap the scar. “What about this one?”

Leon doesn’t have to look to know which one you’re talking about, this time. His nose nudges behind your ear, and your body thumbs head to toe with the rumble of his voice, a single harp’s chord plucked by an expert player. “Keeping my world safe.”

Oh my god.

A huge, impish grin blooms on your face. “...You are such a fucking cheeseball.”

Leon pushes you clean off his lap and straight into the lake.

[luminouslywriting]

Hi, I hope you are well. I would like to ask you for a Band of Brothers headcanon of "what would it be like to break into private property to steal food or something with each of the boys?" Obviously you add the boys who you think would dare to break into a house. outside and encourage someone else to accompany you and do it, preferably the reader is from the company. I think it is something strange but for me it is something necessary to know. I hope you can write it. Thank you! :))

Hi sweetheart! Hopefully these few will do :) Enjoy as always! My requests are open and I don't mind spam!

Cut for length, more under the cut:

Ronald Speirs:

-Thief extraordinaire; this man is a great partner to help break into a house with. He's dutifully watching your back and has a whole plan that is flawlessly executed. Doesn't ask questions, doesn't want to know.

-Doesn't judge you for wanting to break into the house/taking whatever you need. Is fully on board with never telling anyone about it or admitting to it either.

Joe Liebgott:

-Probably helps as, like, a dare?? He's out here just like fully ready to commit to whatever you need—crimes? Arson? A guard dog? Whatever way you need him to help in, he's prepared

-But also is the type to dare you to do it on your own and carefully watch to make sure that you don't get caught haha

Joe Toye:

-Grumbles the entire time about how stupid this is and how unnecessary this entire thing is. He goes along because he doesn't think you should go by yourself even though you said he didn't have to—it's just in his nature to have your back.

-Be prepared for him to bring this up as a point that he had your back in the future haha

[ilmietitore]

"Ciao, 'M here to visit 'm business partner, he lives in the 03 on the first floor."

Welcome to my ask blog for mah boy, Matteo Schiavoni, I'm your host, H :3c

Here be some ground rules:

All asks will be drawn out!!!

Schia and I are a-okay with anything pertaining to violence & gore, suggstive stuff is cool, but keep Tumblr's policies in mind when asking! No penises, sorry :(

On that topic, I'm comfortable with depicting most things, just nothing involving the bodily harm of children.

Please don't spam.

Racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, ableism, and anything of the sorts is not tolerated, your butt will be blocked.

Dm's are 1-800-Closed

Some factoids about Schia:

He's 47 and 6'4"

Goes by Matteo or Schia

He/Him, Cisgender, and Unlabled

He's very blunt, charismatic, and sadistic

He's Italian and bilingual in English and Italian

Fronts as a "businessman", but works as a hitman for the Mafia

He and Angus Ciprianni are business partners and partners in crime (and in toxic yaoi lol)

His text will be yellow

And some factoids for yours truly:

Name's H

20 and 2 nickels tall

Main blog is @double--hh

I use All/Any pronouns

Timezone is EST

I have a full-time job, please be patient with the response times </3

My text will be green

So yeah, have fun pookies <3