#no he’s not the idiot; you are! GIVE HIM TO ME AND I WILL TAKE CARE OF HIM THE RIGHT WAY

[amirasainz]

I have a request for Lando Norris x Sister!reader where she gets cheated on. Please🫶🏻 I love your writing

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 🧡

Big Brother to the Rescue

The paddock was buzzing with activity, fans cheering and cameras clicking as drivers moved between interviews and meetings. It was a typical race weekend—hectic, thrilling, and intense. But for Yn, none of it seemed to matter.

She walked beside Lando, her older brother, keeping her head down. Normally, she loved being at the Grand Prix. She’d tease Lando about his starts, laugh at his banter with the other drivers, and soak in the high-energy atmosphere. But today, her heart felt heavy.

Lando, always in tune with her moods, glanced down at her and frowned. “You’re too quiet,” he said as they reached the McLaren hospitality area. “This isn’t like you. What’s wrong?”

Yn sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

That was all it took for Lando’s protective instincts to kick in. “Oh, you’re definitely talking about it. Did something happen? Who do I need to fight?”

Yn couldn’t help but chuckle lightly at his immediate leap to violence. “It’s nothing. Just...my boyfriend cheated on me.”

Lando froze mid-step. He turned to her, his expression shifting from shock to anger. “He what?”

“Cheated,” Yn repeated, her voice cracking slightly. “With some girl he met at a party. I found out yesterday.”

Lando clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. “That absolute—” He cut himself off, taking a deep breath. “Okay. First of all, you don’t deserve that. Second, I’m going to make sure you’re okay. And third, if I ever see him, he’s toast.”

Yn smiled faintly at his overprotective tone. “Thanks, Lan. But I don’t think anything can cheer me up right now.”

Lando wasn’t having it. “Challenge accepted.”

---

Throughout the morning, Lando hovered around her like a mother hen. He brought her tea, her favorite snacks, and even a McLaren hoodie to keep her warm. The other drivers began to notice.

“Why is Yn so quiet today?” Carlos asked, walking over to where she sat with her tea. “You’re usually giving Lando a hard time.”

“She’s going through something,” Lando replied, his tone making it clear the topic was off-limits. He wrapped an arm around Yn’s shoulders and pulled her closer. “But don’t worry. I’ve got this.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. He ruffled Yn’s hair affectionately before heading off.

A little while later, Charles and Pierre stopped by. “Yn, you’re not smiling,” Charles said, crouching down to her eye level. “That’s illegal. Lando, what have you done?”

“For once, it’s not my fault,” Lando said, rolling his eyes. “She’s just—she’s sad. Leave her alone.”

Pierre, never one to resist a joke, smirked. “Do you need us to scare someone off? We’re good at that.”

“I can scare people off just fine,” Lando said firmly. “Thanks.”

Yn managed a small laugh, which made Charles and Pierre exchange victorious looks.

---

Later, when Ollie came by, he took one look at Yn and immediately tried to lighten the mood. “I’ve got an idea,” he announced, sitting down beside her. “What if I became your new boyfriend? I’d treat you like a queen.”

Yn laughed for the first time all day, the sound catching Lando’s attention from across the room. He walked over, arms crossed.

“Really, Ollie?” Lando said, glaring at his friend. “That’s the best you’ve got?”

“What?” Ollie said, holding up his hands in mock innocence. “I’m just saying, I’d be an upgrade.”

Yn shook her head, still giggling. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous, but effective,” Ollie said, winking at her.

Lando wasn’t amused. “Stick to racing, mate.”

Ollie shrugged and walked off, leaving Yn smiling. “He’s an idiot,” she said, leaning her head on Lando’s shoulder.

“True,” Lando agreed. “But if it made you laugh, I’ll allow it.”

---

As the day wore on, Lando continued to dote on Yn. He handed her tissues when she teared up, reminded her to drink water, and even skipped a strategy meeting to sit with her in the quiet corner of the hospitality area.

“You know,” Yn said softly, “you’re a really good brother.”

“Obviously,” Lando replied with a smirk. “But thanks. And for real, Yn, don’t let that guy make you feel like you’re not enough. He’s the idiot, not you.”

Yn sniffled and smiled up at him. “You’re the best.”

“Duh,” Lando said, pulling her into a hug. “Now, what do you say we watch the race together? I’ll dedicate my first overtake to you.”

Yn laughed, feeling lighter than she had all day. “Deal.”

By the time the sun set over the paddock, Yn was back to herself, and it was all thanks to Lando—her overprotective, slightly annoying, but always reliable big brother.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I wanna see what’s Ace’s family’s reaction when they found out Ace is dating reader Heheheh

I decided to have only Ace's brother present, since Mr. and Mrs. Trappola have yet to receive strong characterization.

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

The Trappola brothers sat across from one another upon red velvet chairs, and you, between them. They were both intently focused on building a house of playing cards—a task that Ace had warned took “serious patience, coordination, and a gentle touch.” (You had rolled your eyes and responded, “Great. You let me know when you’ve found someone that has all that.”)

Ace carefully laid a Two of Spades down, formed a triangle with a Three of Clubs and a Four of Diamonds. His hand slowly retreated, and the triangle stayed. He expelled a sigh, directed away from the cards so as to not disturb them.

You would have clapped for him, but Ace had discouraged you before the game had even started. So instead, you tapped your index and middle fingers together. Still giving applause, but not nearly enough to rattle the house of cards.

“Your move.”

“Huh, you’ve gotten better at this,” his brother mused. He toyed with an Ace of Hearts, expertly twirling it between dexterous fingers. “Too bad. I was really looking forward to smoking you in front of your new friend.”

“In your dreams,” Ace sneered, passing you a glance. “The last thing I’d want is to look uncool in front of my partner.”

His brother drew himself up in his seat. The card in his hand, stilling. “Your partner? Since when were you two a thing?”

“Oh, you know… since a while ago,” Ace casually replied. “And honestly, I can’t really blame’m. Who wouldn’t fall for my dashing good looks and roguish charm? I’m a catch!”

His brother regarded you with an almost pitying look. “It’s not too late to change your mind,” he advised.

You burst into laughter. "I think I'm good. Ace is an idiot, but he's at least my idiot."

He raised an eyebrow. "So you've got a sense of humor. You'll need that if you're going to put up with Ace all of the time. Congrats, you passed the first test."

"Whaddya mean 'put up with' me?!" Ace protested, puffing up his cheeks. A pout--adorable, you think.

"I mean it exactly how I said it. It's practically a full-time job dealing with you," his brother replied cheekily. "You gotta prepare people for it, or else they won't know what they've signed up for."

"Oh, come on! You're making me sound way worse than I actually am."

"This, coming from the guy who ghosted his ex?" He smirked, and you could see the family resemblance in it. The slight narrowing of the eyes, the way his mouth angled. "I dunno, I was half expecting you to stay single forever after that royal screw-up, lil' bro. You're lucky you found someone willing to take you~"

Pink exploded onto Ace's cheeks. "H-Hey...!" he hissed, leaning toward his brother. "Did you seriously have to bring that up?! Have a little more tact, will ya?!"

The older Trappola grinned. "Gotcha."

You realized why.

Ace's sudden movement had sent a slight breeze against the card house. It wobbled from top to bottom--then the structure collapsed in on itself, the cards all folding into one another. Within seconds, the house was a pile on the coffee table.

Ace fell to his knees with a pathetic wail, scrambling to salvage his hard work. His brother looked on, chuckling. A card, still in his hand.

"I didn't place mine yet," he declared triumphantly, "and since you made the house fall, it's technically my win!"

"Y-You sneaky...! You taunted me on purpose!!"

"Yeah, and it worked like a charm." He flicked Ace on the forehead. "You were too busy trying to flex in front of your S/O. It was easy to take advantage of that. You always were a cocky, predictable brat."

"Grrrrr..!!"

"Ace, it's fine," you soothed him, a hand on his arm. "You did your best. It doesn't change how I feel about you."

"Tch, there you go being all sappy again... You're so lame sometimes," Ace grumbled--but he covered your hand with his. A small gesture, but a reassuring one.

"Hahah, look at you two lovebirds," his brother teased, wagging a finger at you. Then he reached out and roughly ruffled Ace's hair, despite his complaints and attempts to swat him away. "Happy for you though, lil' bro! You gotta tell me how this love story started--"

[mysterythief]

Anakin’s brain was trying to break through his eyes. He could feel the pressure pounding against his skin with each step he took away from his barracks.

His latest campaign at Akiva had been brutal. He and Rex had been awake for 82 hours, trying to stay on top of the constant flood of droids coming from the factory while they waited for Ahsoka and her team to shut it down.

Anakin hated to admit it, but he had taken some nasty blows throughout the campaign. A droideka had gotten a lucky shot in when Anakin was surrounded and blasted him in the back of his left leg (which consequently lead to him falling on his face and breaking his nose), a tactical droid managed to get the company into a trap where droids dropped boulders onto them (Anakin did manage to stop most of them, so the company came out alright, but he missed the one that hit him and Rex on the head. He did sleep for about 10 minutes after that, so that was a plus), and a stupid commando droid managed to shoot through his right arm, killing some of the wires connected to his nerves. He could feel jolts of electricity run up his arm whenever the dead ends accidentally hit each other, and he was unable to fully open or close his hand. And forget about his ring and pinky finger, they were absolutely fried. The surgery would take a day to repair the damage. Time Anakin didn’t have.

Kix was arguing with him even now as he and Anakin walked out of the barracks after they had carried Ahsoka and Rex into the bunks to rest and recover. Poor Snips had taken a nasty cut on her arm from Ventress and had inhaled far too much smoke from being caught in the factory after setting it on fire. It should have been him. He was her master after all. He should be able to protector her. And Rex was barely conscious after being awake for so long and taking that boulder to the head…and breaking his arm after tackling the droideka that had shot Anakin. They both deserved a couples days rest and some time in the bacta tank.

Anakin began removed the bandages from his head, right arm, and leg as Kix continued to scold him.

“Sir, this is insane! You’re clearly injured! Now is when you go to the med bay, NOT A COUNCIL MEETING!!”

“Relax Kix. I’m standing up and moving around. Which, in my book, is a win.” Anakin tried to give Kix his most convincing swagger smile. The one that typically managed to hide of all his pain.

Unfortunately, Kix knew him too well. And he had been there when the boulder had dropped on Anakin.

“Sir… with all due respect, you are a KRIFFIN IDIOT! You have a concussion, your right arm is in shambles and can’t hold a thing, you’ve lost a lot of blood from your left leg, which you are STILL limping on. And I’m fairly certain you have multiple broken ribs as well, but you woln’t sit still long enough to allow me to examine you!” Kix listed off with big dramatic gestures as he screamed whispered to Anakin.

“Yes. Yes. Yes. And probably true, but I don’t have time to figure that out right now Kix. If I’m late for one more council meeting, Mace is going to have my head. And if I walk fast enough, I’ll be there right on time! More or less…” Anakin whispered argued back.

“Sir, I’m sure you being in the med bay is a very valid reason to not be at the council meeting.” Kix had stopped and was looking at Anakin with concern.

Normally Kix, as the company medic, could overrule Anakin’s command. However, Anakin wasn’t in command at this moment. He was just a soldier reporting in, so Kix technically couldn’t stop him.

“Somebody has to inform the council of what happened on Akiva, and Ahsoka and Rex are both down. That leaves me.” Anakin hesitated a moment, looking at Kix’s concerned face, and knowing that Rex would yell at him the moment he woke up and found out Anakin hadn’t gone right to the med bay. He did have good men who cared about him. “But I promise that I’ll go to med bay immediately after the council meeting.” Anakin conceded.

Kix nodded his head, agreeing to the terms. “If you’re not there by 0300, I’m sending a squad to find you sir.”

“Fair enough.” Anakin held his left hand out in fairwell as he walked (limped) towards the council chambers.

***

Skywalker was late. Again.

True, his company had just arrived back from Akiva the hour before, but where other Jedi would immediately report in after a mission, Skywalker had a tendency to dillydally with his men afterwards.

Mace had hopped that after his last talk with Anakin that he would take these council meetings more seriously. Clearly that hope was in vain.

Mace turned to his friend and head of the Jedi Council, “We should begin the meeting Master Yoda. There are many important things to discuss with or without Skywalker’s report.”

“Indeed. Start, we should. Much to discuss, there is. Master Kenobi, faith, in Skywalker, you have?”

“I promise you, Anakin will be here Master,” Obi Wan said reassuringly, though he looked ready to sigh at his old apprentices antics.

“Very well. Begin, you will Master Mundi. Anxious, to hear about the Wookiees, I am.”

Anakin Skywalker quite literally stumbled into the council chambers partway through Master Mundi’s report. His shirt was rumpled, and his right arm was stained by some liquid.

“Apopoligies Masters,” he stated as he attempted an awkward bow with his left hand, his right hanging limply, and hobbled to side of the chambers.

Great, Mace thought, not only was Skywalker late, but he was drunk and had wine on his sleeves. It would have been better for him to not report at all, than to come in this state. Mace would have to have another talk with him later.

***

Obi Wan raised a quizzical eyebrow at Anakin and directed his gaze to his right arm, which was clearly leaking fluid. ‘Are you alright? Shouldn’t you be in med bay?’ His gaze asked.

‘I’m fine.’ Anakin’s glance replied, as he attempted to hide his right hand. Though he jolted slightly upon moving it.

‘If you’re fine, then why are you late? And why is your arm clearly broken? And you’ve done something to your leg that you’re limping. Kix really let you go like this?’ Obi Wan’s worry frown settled on his brow as his glaze slide over his old Padawan, checking if anything else was wrong or broken. He really should have had something stronger to drink before dealing with this.

‘I’m here aren’t I?’ Anakin’s shrug was his only response as he began purposefully ignoring his Master’s concerned gaze.

Definitely should have had something stronger to drink, Obi Wan thought.

***

Stay awake Anakin. You can do this, just STAY AWAKE!

His head was pounding through his skull with full force. He had managed to deflect Kix and Obi Wan, but Anakin was seriously ready to topple over. It was taking every ounce of his willpower just to stay upright. He hadn’t even noticed that his arm was leaking fluid again until Obi Wan had pointed it out. Hopefully he had moved his arm soon enough that no one else had notice the stain. Or that his whole body was jittering every now and again as random wires connected and sent jolts through his nervous system.

He just had to stay awake through this meeting, then he would make good on his promise to Kix and go to med bay.

Just stay awake.

***

“Skywalker, we’re ready for your report now” Mace stated. It was now 0400. The council had gone through 5 other reports that had taken 2 hours (though there was a little commotion outside the halls at 0300 that the temple guards had handled) and were ready to hear about the campaign on Akiva.

“Skywalker?” he questioned again when there was no response from the young knight.

“Anakin,” Obi Wan’s anxiety caught in his normally calm tone.

“Yes Masder. Sorri Masder,” the young man jolted at the sound of Obi Wan’s voice, though his whole body shook. “I was…loss in thougd.”

“Anakin… maybe you should,” Obi Wan began as he started to stand.

“Give my repord. Yes, yes I sould,” Anakin interjected. Glaring at Obi Wan as he wobbled to the center of the floor, even though it was clear as day to Mace that Anakin was drunk and Obi Wan was just trying to save some face.

Anakin shuttered as he began speaking, trying to hide his right arm behind him:

“The campin on Akia dook a few durnds, bud in the ened, we manade do brind don de droid faccori. Dis will allo…” Anakin’s left leg suddenly gave out from under him as his whole body shuttered again, flinging him forward.

“Anakin!” Obi Wan yelled, as he flung himself from his chair, barely managing to catch Anakin before his face hit into the marbled floor.

“Medic! I need a Medic NOW!!” Obi Wan uncharacteristically shouted out the doors of the council chamber.

“YOU SEE!!! THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU DON’T LISTEN TO THE DAMN MEDIC!!!” A clone medic wearing the colors of the 501 burst into the council chamber a stretcher, bandages, and some bacta patches at the ready, the temple guards standing in shock behind him.

“General Fisto, please hold General Skywalkers left leg steady. General Kenobi, please wrap this bandaged around his leg before it starts bleeding through again. I need to wrap these wires around his hand so he stops shocking his whole system until we can get him into surgery,” Kix said jumping into action.

“Kix?! Kix?! What happened? Why did he come here instead of med bay? How badly injured is he?” Obi Wan rapidly questioned as he wrapped Anakin’s leg. He could see that he had reopened a blaster wound and it was starting to bleed again.

“General Skywalker insisted that he had to be to the council meeting to report on the mission since Commander Tano and Captain Rex are both badly injured as well General Kenobi. You know how the General gets when he sets his mind to something.

I told him he had to be at med bay by 0300 or I’d send a squad after him. Well, he wasn’t in med bay at 0300 so the boys and I came looking for him, but these guards would let us in.” Kix talked fast as he wrapped Anakin’s right hand which had wires sticking out from every angle and fluid leaking from the gaping hole in his arm.

Mace finally noticed the 3 other clone troopers in 501 armor helping get supplies and the stretcher in place and immediately felt overwhelming guilty.

He had assumed the worst of Skywalker, believing him to be drunk, when in reality he was seriously injured. Enough so that it was amazing he had stay standing as long as he had.

“Rest, you should Skywalker. Your health, more important than the report, it is.” Master Yoda said as he walked over to the commotion, where a barely awake Skywalker lay.

“Yes, Masder.”

“Give the report, one of your men can, I’m sure.” Yoda continued. “Heal, you will.”

Obi Wan and Kit Fisto helped Kix and one of the clones lift Anakin carefully onto the stretcher.

“Appo and Fives, can you deliver the report to the council in Anakin’s place?” Obi Wan requested.

“Yes, sir!” The two clones saluted. Then both gently touched to stretcher where Anakin was laying. “Take care of yourself sir.”

“Master, I’d like to request permission to accompany Anakin to med bay.” Obi Wan asked Master Yoda.

“Go, you may. Run away from the medic, ensure he doesn’t,” Yoda gently laughed.

Mace grabbed Anakin’s left hand before Kix and Kenobi pulled him away on the stretcher. “Next time young Skywalker, go to med bay,” he counseled.

Anakin attempted to laugh as he was carted away. “If you insisd.”

Maybe it was alright for Skywalker to miss council meeting sometimes after all.

How many times do you think Anakin arrived a meeting, a call, or honestly anything important for his job swinging and stumbling and speaking weirdly, so everyone would just glare at him like "Showing up drunk is worse than not showing up at all", only for it to be that he's actually with a severe concussion; or dizzy from blood loss, or oxygen isn't reaching his brain or literally anything but drunk; in fact , Obi-Wan wishes he was drunk.

[neo127]

❀ ㅤ﹠ call me.

pairing: yang jungwon x gn!reader genre. fluff cw. none!! notes. this is kinda rushed but i wanted to write smth sigh

archives

jungwon’s heart couldn’t stop racing and his head began to swarm with negativity. sweat gathered on his skin and his mouth dried up. he felt as if he had just ran a marathon when really—

“can i get an americano, please?” he asked, his voice cracking embarrassingly as he avoided any and all eye contact with you.

jungwon was cute, really cute, and you looked forward to his weekly appearances in the cafe you worked at. he was truly one of the more attractive men you had seen walk into the cafe and his dimpled but awkward smile that he would give you nearly made you swoon. you chuckled at his nervous expression before putting his order into the system.

“anything for my favorite customer.” you winked before turning around to get started on his drink. you weren’t sure where the confidence came from— maybe it was due to being so tired of missing your chance with a guy that was totally your type. you only lived once, might as well take advantage of any opportunity that arose. and besides, jungwon was really cute and you wanted to meet him outside of work.

once you were finished making jungwon’s americano, you scribbled down a quick note and attached it to the bottom of the cup. you called his name and mumbled out a ‘have a nice day’ before walking away to clean up the counter.

jungwon tried to speak up, but the words he wanted to say got caught in his throat as he watched you quickly scurry away. the boy sighed to himself as he picked up his drink. before he could fully leave the cafe, he noticed a bright pink sticky note attached to the bottom.

‘meet me sometime? ;) xxx-xxx-xxxx’

jungwon smiled like an idiot when he read the note, looking back at you to noticed that you were already smiling at him.

‘i’ll call’ he mouthed toward you with a small smirk before slipping outside the cafe. you nearly squealed to yourself, trying to keep yourself composed as you took the next customer’s order.

[mayullla]

Title: His Dream Wife

Character(s): Richard (Original character / Original work)

Synopsis: He always wanted a perfect family, but life never gave him what he wanted. Instead, he was blackmailed into marrying a gold digger. But after seeing you for the first time the wife of his friend all he could think of was you. So don't mind him when he was given the option to swap his wife's consciousness with yours he took that chance immediately.

Warnings/tags: Yandere Dilf x meek reader, yandere pov, general yandere themes, body swap between reader and Yandere's wife, cheating (not done by reader), arranged, baby trapping, Yandere wants that traditional wife and lifestyle. Word count: 4.2k (Please tell me if I miss anything!)

Note: I just finished reading the webtoon "Marry My Husband," so you can probably see many small ideas taken from it in this story!

Ever since he was young, Richard had fantasies and dreams of a perfect family. He always loved the idea of someone relying on him just as much as he would on them, and someone who would love him exclusively and trust him completely. Maybe that was why he liked wolves, having been told back then that those animals would mate for life. He liked that. He wanted that. Friends were nice there is nothing wrong with that. But there is something about a family that he wanted. Maybe it was because he was jealous back then of how affectionate his grandparents were between each other, while his parents were far from that.

That was what he wanted and well maybe he started to want a little more the older he got. He wanted what his grandparents had, he wanted what the movies had… he wanted what his fantasies had. He loved the idea of a family, coming back from work to an affectionate housewife with her tummy big inside a second or third child while holding the first. The idea of kisses between each other, while his lover irrupts in giggles, playfully pushing him back telling him that he should not let the food turn cold or let the kids see them.

Someone he could spoil and give everything to while she relied on him and his money. He would work hard every day just for her and the kids, to give them the home they deserve. She would give back by cooking and cleaning the house, anybody knows that those things are hard work and everything takes time. But she would do it for the both of them, for him. 

Yet he wasn't able to attain that dream. He wasn't allowed to have it. He attracted the attention of a viel woman, who had used any and every blackmail to tie him down to her. He was a manager at a big company already quickly climbing up but also came from a rich family, he unwantedly got the attention of a woman who was greedy for money and something handsome. 

And her own manager was ripe for the picking.

She did many things but somehow he was able to avoid many of them however that could only go on for so long. She was cunning, too smart for her own good. He didn't know how she did it, it made him furious at what she did waking up in a hotel with her right beside him. He had no memories of the night yet she did when she told everyone that she had his baby a month later.

Everyone was frantic, his parents especially who cared so much about their appearance and reputation than anything else. While he hated them for the lack of love or care only forcing him to their whims to get a word above their acquaintances and rivals. The idea of him their own son mudding their name with the fact that he got someone pregnant without marriage made them furious. They wanted him to marry her immediately and he had no choice not when they held his job, reputation, and life above him not when that woman too did the same with her connections and people behind the scenes. It was idiotic that he fell into her hands like this, no matter what he did she did not let go and sank her claws deep into his skin.

Richard wanted to know if this child was his, but there was no time when everybody demanded his and that woman didn't give him a chance to check. Only to cry after the marriage that the child from miscarriage due to stress from his selfishness. Many blamed him even though he knew that she was lying this whole time but no matter what he said her crocodile tears worked far better than any explanation.

He was furious, angered by everything that happened but he wasn't allowed to do anything he wasn't allowed to break up with her. His life, everything that he worked for had turned to nothing by this woman. She could care less about love or something genuine and only cared about his money, demanding that he give her money to go shopping to buy expensive brand items and clothing while also going to parties and bars with her friends coming back home late leaving only a mess with how drunk she was.

Some days she would not come home at all and he assumed that she was with another man, as he didn't give in to her sexual demands even if they were husband and wife. At this point, the idea of touching her body even her hand disgusted him.

He thought he lost everything, he felt hopeless when he could not break up with that woman who made sure that he could not have a divorce without destroying his reputation and paying her a huge amount of cash. She was insane.

Rather than be with her he would rather drown in his work in his office. The house smelled like her strong perfume that could only make his head hurt the moment he took one whiff of it even though that woman wasn't even in the house having already left to head to the next new bar that opened up in the city.

That was his life, he genuinely thought that this was his ending, a story that didn't end so well, yet unable to change anything with knives around his neck daring him to move. But in the end, nothing is concrete, sometimes all it takes is helping an old lady who just so happens to be a fortune teller. 

Typing away at his computer late at night in his office as he looked at the time, his thoughts could not help but let his thoughts drift for a moment. Richard closed his eyes slightly burning from looking at the laptop for too long. Leaning his chair, he pulled his tie down a little as he thought about this afternoon when he helped out a poor fortune teller the old woman after picking some stuff up at the market, who looked to be in her 80s stuck outside homeless and struggling to open her shop. As she had dropped something that had rolled towards him he picked it up and gave it to the old lady. He didn't know what moved him to help her. But as a present, he had gotten a small viel.

"Thank you for your help. You are quite the hard worker." The old woman said, sitting on the chair when everything was finally set up. She looked at him with a sly smile on her face. The old woman he later realized had a way of speaking, that wasn't normal. Weird yet at the same time sharp... too sharp. “Too bad you are stuck with such a mean spirit woman. How you handle such a woman for so long now… I am impressed.” Sharp as in she knew too much than he would have liked for a stranger to know.

"Buahahaha, don't worry boy this would be the last you would ever hear from me after this." The old woman laughed at his stiff glare. He didn't know how she did it but she seemed to know a lot about his relationship with his wife and the trouble that he was in yet at the same time she had a knack for poking at his sore spots. 

Before Richard could think about calling the police she suddenly pulled out a vial inside containing a blue liquid, "You help me with my little trouble so I want to give you a little something, that could help you with your own little trouble. Besides, I couldn't resist helping someone in need.” 

“A little swap potion, let your wife and your sweetheart drink it and they will swap at the start of the next day. The lil spell would wear off in a month but if there is nothing to return to… well then that means nothing could even happen. Dont yah think so boy? Haha!” He took the vial from the lady, thinking about throwing it when she was nowhere in sight. The creepy grin didn't match her so-called kind action, but she was not finished with talking.

“You better move fast my boy, that woman will make sure you will be dead before a year. It is very easy to hide evidence with a car crash.”

After that, it was difficult to throw the thin vial. Part of him could not drop the liquid into the bin, so he stored it on his office desk, locked but with a key, along with other important documents and such.

"Richard!! Why did you not show up at the dinner party?! Do you know how much embarrassment you have caused me?" his wife screamed. He couldn't help but groan in annoyance the moment he walked through the entrance. It was too early in the morning for such screaming, but she just continued on and on: "And why are you here now?!! It is the next day!? Explain yourself!"

"I don't need to explain myself to you at all." Walking past his wife who was glaring daggers at him. The more he learned about his wife the more he realized that she was similar to his parents, cared only about reputation, and was selfish putting themselves first before anything else. Hypocrites. "I had to finish up some work so I stayed at my office. I needed to finish all the file work before the meeting." Unlike a certain someone who would come home the next day afternoon after being in someone else's arms. 

Walking into his own home, he could not recognize it... everything was thrown about and trashed everywhere. Expensive decorations on the floor and shattered. Sofa and pillows ripped letting cotton spill from them. Walls wet and dirty with glass cups, and pots of plants shattered on the floor. Looking at everything he kept his anger internally holding everything in as he continued to walk towards his office and bedroom locked with a key.

This wasn't the first time this happened, he had found out that there was no use to teaching someone who saw no reason to change her ways. He just needs to call in some cleaners, replace the things that broke and that was it.

Heading to his home office to place his bag on the table he suddenly received a text on his phone. Pulling out the device to check who it was while the woman continued to scream at him.

"That doesn't explain why you didn't tell me you couldn't join the dinner!" It was because she wouldn't listen, no matter what. If he had told her, she would have either demanded that he come or screamed at him—first on the phone, then again when he got home. "Answer your phone when I call! Are you even listening to me?!"

He knew of the calls and messages. She had been calling non-stop and texting for an hour since he didn't come to her friends' dinner. He just didn't care to answer and left it on mute to let him focus on his work. Looking at the sender he couldn't help but sigh.

"Hey, I am talking to you!" Her shrill screaming was mind-numbing as he got his clothes unable to stand her voice and would rather change elsewhere. "RICHARD!!!"

He quickly left the house and got into his car, ignoring the high-heeled shoe that was thrown at him—missing as it landed. Starting the engine, he drove off, tuning out her shouts.

It was past midnight, and he was alone on the road. No one else was in sight. As he waited at a red light, he pulled out his phone to check a message. It was from a "friend" he had made at university, inviting him to dinner the next day. The guy had always been friendly—or at least tried to be. He had the personality of a know-it-all, and while he didn’t care for him much, it seemed the guy had once considered them friends. That was until money and popularity got to his head.

The guy knew a lot and had multiple connections and friends, he was the one who helped him find a cleaner will to keep silent about everything that happened in the house after the housemaid quit due to his wife assuming that he and the maid had done something sexual in the bedroom. The woman was crying as her hair had been pulled and her face slapped by his wife.

He also had seen the lust in that friend's eyes whenever he looked at her. Even after the guy was married for over a year he still looked at another wife with lust, it was disgusting to Richard that his friend would do such a thing but as the guy had helped him with a few of his troubles he didn't just cut him away.

The message was an invite for a double date. Having just left his house and his furious wife behind (not that he would ever take her anywhere unless absolutely forced), he tried to decline, saying that his wife was a bit "busy."

[Dude, dont worry about it and just come then.]

[Won't it be awkward for your wife?]

[It doesn't matter she would just say that it is fine either way.]

[Don't leave me here with her. You have already talked with her either way it is not a problem anymore. ]

From what he remembered it seemed that it was an arranged marriage between the two. Something that was decided by their parents for the benefit of their companies. The guy absolutely hated the fact that he was pushed into this marriage and had nothing good to say about his wife but that was a goody two shoes and boring. "She lacks the wildness that I am looking for." The guy said he was drinking in a bar one time having called him to express his frustrations after an official meeting with her. "She probably doesn't know anything except how to clean dishes.”

"I would not leave the house with a babe like yours. How do you keep everything in your pants?" The guy asked too drunk from all the alcohol to be careful with his words. "You might like my fiance a lot with your uptight attitude and lack of fun. Maybe we should switch wives later. Hey, wanna wife swap one time? It would be fun~~."

He had ignored the very obvious lust in the guy’s eyes, choosing not to address it and instead steer the conversation elsewhere. In the end, between hiccups, the guy told him he’d introduce him to his future wife and insisted that he should come to the wedding.

A few days later, with the invitation in hand, he attended the wedding. There, he saw the guy’s wife—and he was absolutely floored.

It was just a moment. A fleeting glimpse. He caught sight of her for only a second, walking toward his friend across the hall. Through the open door of the bride's room, he saw her, and he froze.

She was stunning.

He could not believe that a woman like you would become the wife of the guy. He wanted to take a step back to see you again, yet when his wife called him he was forced to start walking again not wanting to cause a scene due to her fickle pride. 

After all, he could see you again on the walkway when the wedding starts.

But he didn't want to leave either way.

Seated on the husband's side as the music stopped hinting to the guest that it was about to start soon. He watched as his friend walked the aisle, knowing but not commenting on the dirty slutish look his wife was giving to the guy looking at him up and down and waiting for you to show up.

You arrived soon after, dressed elegantly and sophisticated holding bouquets of flowers. He noticed how pretty you were, your walk and movements were elegant and soft, a far cry to his wife who walked to call the men's attention dressed a little too revealing for the formal occasion.

Would he have married a woman like you if this wench hadn’t come to destroy his life? Would he have married you if your parents and your friend’s family hadn’t forced the two of you into it? If this wasn’t some kind of mask, and this really was you, he wouldn’t have any complaints about being stuck with you. In fact, he would have demanded it—forced it, if he could. But that wasn’t how life turned out... You were not his.

The wedding soon came to an end and that was it. Legally you were tied to his friend while he was already stuck with his own problems. It wasn't fair. He just couldn't let it go as he stayed in his seat even after the end of the wedding speech as everybody started to leave to eat and dance. While his wife went to meet up with the groom he stayed where he was just thinking.

How surprised he was that he ended up meeting you so soon.

The guy had invited him to dinner a few times and he quickly understood that it was to have someone else in the group after the guy was forced by his parents to take you out a few times. But that didn't matter to him when he was finally able to talk to you, to chat with you.

When he reached the restaurant, the guy stood up after a small conversation, stating that he needed to run to the bathroom, take a call, or use some other excuse he had up his sleeve. He left the table for as long as possible only to come back near the end with maybe a lipstick on his shirt or something. And if Richard’s wife was there, the guy would start subtlety flirting with his wife, uncaring if he or his own wife was there, not that the woman herself cared.

He pitied you, as you kept on your smile even when your eyes swirled with an understanding of your place, yet at the same time, you were still so hurt. You were silent for the most part keeping to yourself.

You and he become rather close but not really, it was a kind of comradery of your situations or that was what he would like to think. Whenever you and him were left alone, rather than keep the awkward air around he would start to talk to you.

You were a little flustered at first but slowly you started to get used to talking with him. Chatting amicably as if enjoying the conversation between you and him. He also did enjoy conversing with you. No heavy topics, it wasn't business or anything to do with work but stuff like traveling, hobbies, and favorite food. The things that you would like to do if you only had the time or chance to do them. 

You weren't loud but you were delicate, gentle, and easy to fluster too. You were polite and careful with your words but also curious asking him many questions when he talks about his own stories. You would keep all your attention on him, even if he noticed you didn't seem maybe that interested in a topic or two.

There was one time he went to your apartment, an invitation from your husband who invited him and his wife. Your place was in a high-end apartment probably paid by the family, with decorations that were chic and modern but there was also a homely feeling to the place, cleaned and cared for with love, unlike his messed up house. The smell of the house was similar to that of a fragrant laundry detergent instead of strong perfume. Just for a moment, he realized that you were the one who did all this when he saw you coming out from the kitchen unwrapping the apron you were wearing.

Just for a moment you gave him an actual vision of a home, a vision of what he wanted so much and could have had yet was taken away from him. You gave him a vision of what it would be like to have a wife who cares so much. 

He could not help but crumble and fall.

He started to crave for you, the more he chatted with you the more he fell every night he fantasized about you in his arms. He wished... he craved for you so much that he thought he started having delusions that you were his. At night, he couldn’t close his eyes without seeing you clearly in the darkness.

But you just had to break everything, you just had to slam a hammer to his dreams and fantasies just like everyone else.

"I'm sorry," you said, a sorrowful smile on your lips. "I know my husband is using you to get out of our date. I apologize for taking up your time when you're so busy. Please, I’ll make sure this doesn't happen again. You don’t have to come every time he asks you to. I’m sure you’re busy too."

Why...? Why did you say that? He thought you knew that he already understood. He thought you knew that it didn’t bother him at all—especially when you both always had such enjoyable conversations. Why did you apologize? Why would you tell him to stop coming? Why were you pushing him away?

Your eyes looked at him in sorry and guilt and it clicked you were scared you were so scared that something wrong might happen. Because in the end, you were loyal, loyal to a man who didn't even love you.

It made him livid. 

Even if you thought you knew more than he did, he was the one who knew more. He knew well what your husband does on nights that he isn't home, where he goes, and what he does there. In Richard’s own house, he could hear the sounds of two people with familiar voices thinking they were alone. 

His wife and your husband.

You didn't know that, while you probably knew that he partied every day you seemed to have hope that he didn't have the audacity to lay in bed with another married woman much less the wife of his own friend. He didn't care who that guy lay with, but it made him irritated that a guy like him had you.

That appointment ended up awkward. Too awkward as both of you waited for your husband to arrive. The guy knew something was up the moment he arrived but seemed to choose not to say anything having enough tack not to right at that moment when he usually didn't.

Looking at the message again he sighed declining the invite again even when the guy tried to put up a fuss. It was just that he could not face you right now, not when you made it clear that all you felt towards him was guilt.

If only it was you... if only he had found you first if that woman didn't chain herself to him using blackmail and connections.

If he could just swap his wife with you he would have been happier... he would have the life he wished he had and he would spoil you with all his love and time. While you would wait oh so lovingly for him while cooking and cleaning while he worked to bring the money to keep you happy materially. He would be a better husband than your own and he already knew that you would be a far more better wife than his own.

But you just had to draw that line. That line of law and morality.

Watching the road as he drove, he could not help but let annoyance fester him at this whole situation till he saw a poster pass by him. Purple with a familiar design that he saw just this morning. Something to do with a certain fortune teller who knew a little too much and who gave him a small vial.

Truthfully he didn't believe in such things, but part of him had become so desperate that he just could not think straight. He was desperate and he knew that the old woman knew that and was laughing at him for it.

"Here yah go. This is a little something that would have cost a shit ton but I am gonna give it to you for free." The old woman cackled, she was having way too much fun knowing his situation. "If you plan to add this to a drink don't worry about the colour at all."

He didn't believe in such things. But there was a whisper in his mind a little spell in his brain that told him that this would work. That there was something different about that mad woman who probably lived only in entertainment.

His hand moved before he could even think about it, accepting the dinner invitation as he finally reached his office. It was supposed to be closed, but a few employees were pulling an all-nighter, so the building wasn't locked. In his mind, all he could think about was the life he once dreamed of—the life that had been taken away from him. All he wanted was a life with you, and that thing—that vial—would be the answer to all his problems.

[moonlight-prose]

“please don’t make me say it if you aren’t going to say it back” with a desperately in love with joel reader would hit so much…

weaved around your finger like yarn

a/n: me writing for joel again?? this has sat in my inbox for over a year and i never meant to actually take this long with it. but i finally figured out how to write this concept. and now i am actually obsessed with the small world of softness i created for these two. this is yes jackson joel, but nothing bad happens ever to him because why would it? it's all fine right?

summary: he never made space in his life for love in the aftermath of destruction. the after of his life he once thought would extend past decades of gray hair, smile lines carved in around his mouth now set in frowns and sneers. but snowfall and alcohol blur the lines for both of you when winter comes to jackson.

word count: 1.6k+

pairing: joel miller x reader

warnings: not explicit, love confessions, heavy makeout sessions, alcohol consumption, tipsy joel, sad joel, laughter at the end of the world, hope.

He can't remember laughing until his stomach hurt. The ache that spilled into his chest, warming his insides with a sun like quality that left him shivering. He can't recall the feel of his cheeks pulled so wide the sensation became a phantom pain seconds after. He knows it happened. He can distinctly recall the jokes, the joy. But the laughter lingers like a ghost at the back of his mind—translucent and gray and distorted enough to feel false.

Alcohol simmers in his stomach with a rueful intent. A malignant aftermath that would hit him in a few hours after two months of attempted sobriety. Ellie insisted, he accepted. Easy enough to say. Difficult to follow through with.

He had his days where whiskey sounded better than the flavor of bacon Tommy would bring him in the early mornings. But the dismay in your eyes helped him hold off, regain his awareness of a world not yet shattered. For once in quite a long time...he finally lived. For you, for Ellie, for Sarah.

He lived to see his hair grow longer and the grays appear more frequently. To drink coffee in the mornings on a porch you were already settled on. To help you fix small things here and there in your cabin next door. He lived for your smile, the light in your eyes. The curve of your lips as they pulled up into bolstering peals of laughter—the furrow in your brow as you frowned from endless frustrations on long hard days.

Joel Miller lived to love you.

He existed to dig his heels in and wait shit out—it's what he was good at, what he knew how to do. But for you he relented quicker than ice on a hot asphalt driveway back home in Texas. His mind became sand that slipped through your giving hands—heart a fluttering mess that sang a tune he could never get right on the guitar stashed in his living room.

Days bloomed into weeks which grew into months. Eventually a year passed and what used to be difficult and awkward to be around people again, felt like breathing the fresh winter air. The jackets he managed to find hung on hooks by the door, a pair of heavy boots beside the small table Tommy crafted him.

The mornings were nice. When hot water hit ground coffee and the aroma plagued his kitchen for hours at a time. The evenings called you towards him—simple cooking skills shared in the confines of a home he pined for you to reside in.

Life was a sliver of peace he never imagined he'd get again. But the hole in his heart never faded, the pain still rang out sharp enough to have him clamping down on the inside of his cheek. And your smile made his stomach ache with a longing deep enough to scar.

Tommy told him to buck up and do something. Ellie called him a fucking idiot.

You...gave no indication you felt the same way. So silent and reserved he would remain.

Your feet slid on icy, fingers gripping tightly to his jacket with a yelp in a quick attempt to save yourself from slamming to the ground. Joel snickered loud and brash and a wash of embarrassment burned under frozen cheeks. Dragging you up, his arm looped tightly around your waist—hand pressed harsh and insistent to the small of your back. You swallowed the butterflies at the sight of his face flushed red—eyes shining from the effect of too much whiskey.

"We were bad tonight," you muttered, breath forming a cloud between your faces.

He grinned—skin buzzing at the close proximity of your form. "Only a little bit."

"You're not supposed to drink Joel."

Leaning in he traded his smile like a secret; you tucked it into your chest with a sharp breath. "I won't tell if you don't, darlin'."

"Joel..."

"C'mon. No one's gettin' in trouble here."

A blade pierced your heart brutally—spilling crimson along pale white snow. Even as Joel remained entirely unaware of how you clung to him. How your body called his name—your mind plagued with thoughts of his being, with images of his smile, with the sound of his raspy voice. He'd never know the way you cherished each moment with him. The mornings tucked away from an unruly world—the nights shared between friends who might one day be more.

Your teeth scraped along the cracked skin of your bottom lip, eyes cast up to the curl of his lips. The words sprang forth faster than you could drag them back. Your chest of secrets unlocked and bared to the man who drowned you in his small flecks of joy. Later you'd blame the alcohol. When the headache ravaged your head and an ache lingered between your thighs.

Later you'd comb over every small glance and breathy word.

"I like spending time with you Joel," you breathed, fingers toying with the front of his leather coat. "I like...um..."

The breath caught in his throat, gaze desperate to catch yours. "Yeah sugar?"

"It's a hard thing to say." Another cloud of your whiskey tinged breath filled the air.

"You can tell me anythin'. You know that right?" Even as hope flared bright and scorching through the width of his chest. "I'll listen."

Hesitation spilled into the night, your voice a soft whisper he barely caught. "Please don't make me say it if you aren't going to say it back."

Oh didn't you know?

Did you not see how his gaze dug beneath the layers of flesh and bone, of tendons and veins that clung to your form? Did you not understand he would take a bullet for you? That he'd bear the wound of a warrior's death to keep you alive? How could you not know that his love stuck to his tongue with a saccharine bitterness he swallowed down like the drugs he once took to numb his mind?

You healed pieces of his soul you never broke. A marred and fucked puzzle that was meant to find a home six feet underground. By his own hand no less. He was destined to die—born to suffer—yet you swathed him wool with the promise of a peaceful life.

A future etched by the hands of love.

"Say it," he pleaded, frozen hand cupping your cheek.

"It's more than just that." The breath you took shot adrenaline down his spine. "I like our mornings. I like our dinners and conversation. And even when you come into town with me. But I...I love..."

The glossy nature of your eyes created by unshed tears that pooled at your waterline dug the knife deep enough to meld it within his heart. You didn't know. You couldn't have. His silence, his hesitation, swallowed every emotion he might have told you—every secret uttered in the shadows of night that told only half his story.

He told you about Sarah. About their life together, about her smile. That in itself felt like a proclamation of love—a key to the heart he thought stopped beating long ago.

"I knew it would freak you out," you muttered, pulling away from his hold.

Only for him to panic. His hand gripped the back of your jacket, pushing you towards him hard enough for your feet to slip again. But your gasp was swallowed by the cold press of his mouth to yours. Lips chapped by the winter air slid against your parted mouth as you froze against his chest. Your hands hung listlessly at your sides. He kissed you tenderly, attempting to wake you from the spell of shock, but to no avail did it bring you back.

"'M sorry." His words were muffled against your chin, forehead pressed to yours and eyes squeezed shut. "I shouldn't have–"

The press of your fingers into his cheeks jolted him back—eyes wide as you dragged him back with a stifled moan. Your mouth found his tongue hot and wet along his bottom lip in a pleading motion he complied to instantly. Stepping forward he fell into you with a deep groan. One that echoed and vibrated right down to your stomach—one you savored with a lick along his back teeth.

Hands cupped your ass with an insistent need to mold you closer, fingers digging into the plush flesh he longed to bite and taste. You tasted like whiskey. You smelled like him. It made him dizzy with want, anxious to lead you back to his porch—to seat you on his kitchen counter in the mornings while the coffee went cold.

"Fuck I wanna take ya home sugar," he grunted, biting at your lower lip with a grin.

Your breathless reply made the hair stand on the back of his neck. "You can."

"No." He shook his head, stealing another kiss with a gritty moan. "Not tonight. 'M gonna do this proper."

"Proper," you smiled, tugging on the longer curls you refused to let him cut. "You're such an old man Miller."

The large breadth of his hand cupped your chin, pushing the cheeks he lightly bit into together. "Won't be sayin' that tomorrow when I ain't got all this fuckin' alcohol in me."

"Yeah?" The droop of your eyelids—the darkened iris now filled with lust—set his teeth on edge. His body hummed with a new buzz he craved since meeting you. "Prove it."

"Oh I will." He grinned sharply, licking his teeth like a wolf waiting to pounce. "Don't you worry 'bout that."

A glimmer in your eyes caught his attention, the grip on your face loosening. "You know I love you right darlin'?"

You smiled—big and bright—and Joel felt another piece of his soul set back into place. "I love you too Joel."

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

hiii today is my birthday! i looove your work so i would like to make a request....

maybe tfatws!bucky and politician!reader where she is a senator trying to help people after the blip but karli got her as a hostage with other politician (just as the last ep) maybe angst and fluff? thank you!

💗💗💗

Safe and Sound » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: TFATWS!Bucky Barnes x Politician!Female Reader

Summary: You get held hostage by Karli and Bucky saves you.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, language, held hostage, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the request, nonnie🩵 let me start off by saying, happy late late late birthday and my apologies for getting to your request so late🩷

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

“I think we should-” You got interrupted before you could finish your sentence.

“No.” The senator said.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.” You say.

“Whatever it is, the answer is still no.” He says.

You sighed and rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair.

Every idea or suggestion you bring up immediately gets shot down by the senator. All you’re trying to do is help people who were in the blip and he doesn’t like anything you come up with.

After the meeting, you were looking down at your phone and walking to your car when you bumped into someone and dropped your things.

“I’m so sorry!” You apologized. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking.” You say, crouching down to pick up your things.

“It’s ok.” The man smiles and picked up your bag. “Sounds like you had a rough day today.” He says, helping you pick up your things.

“Rough doesn’t even begin to describe it.” You say.

The man gathered your things and handed them to you and stood up. You walked to your car with him following behind you. You put your things in your car before turning around to face him.

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” You held out your hand for him to shake.

“Sergeant James Barnes. Everyone I know calls me Bucky.” Bucky shook your hand. “I think I’ve heard your name before. Are you a politician?” He asks.

“Yes I am.” You answered with a smile.

“That’s why I recognized your name. I’ve seen you on the news a few times.” He said. “If it means anything, I think what you’re doing for the people who were in the blip is amazing.” He says.

“At least, you understand it. I can’t get the senator to understand it.” You say.

“Don’t tell him I said this, but he’s an idiot for not understanding your work.” He says.

You couldn’t help but laugh when Bucky said that. He’s not wrong.

“Do you want to get a drink?” Bucky asks.

“I’m going to have to take a rain check on that. I have a lot of work to do.” You say.

“That’s ok. I understand.” He says understandingly.

“Here’s my number if you want to call, text, or hangout.” You say, handing him your card.

“Will do, doll.” He says with a wink.

You give him a smile before he walked away. You got in your car and leaned your head against the headrest of the seat, sighing loudly. You just want to go home and put tonight’s meeting behind you.

The next morning, you gathered your things for work and left your house. You were going to attempt to tell the senator your idea again. You already know he’s going to shoot it down again, but it’s worth another try. First, you need coffee. You went to a nearby coffee shop before going into work. Once again, you were looking down at your phone and accidentally bumped into someone. You didn’t drop anything this time at least.

“I am so sorry!” You apologized. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking.” You say.

“I’m beginning to think you’re bumping into me on purpose, doll.” Bucky says jokingly.

You smiled when you heard his voice. You looked up at him to see him smiling at you.

“I can say the same thing about you, Sergeant Barnes.” You joked.

Bucky chuckles at your joke and opened the door to the coffee shop for you.

“What a gentleman.” You smiled at him.

“I always am.” He says sweetly.

Bucky followed in behind you.

“What are you getting?” Bucky asks. “My treat.” He says, taking his wallet out of his pocket.

“You don’t have to pay for my coffee.” You say.

“I want to. Also, I insist.” He says.

“Well, if you insist.” You giggled.

You ordered your coffee and so did Bucky.

“I have a feeling we’re going to see more of each other.” You say as you and Bucky walked out of the coffee shop.

“I would absolutely love that.” He smiles.

“As much as I want to stay here and talk to you, I have to go to work to convince the senator my idea is the best way to help the people who were in the blip.” You say.

“Don’t let me keep you from doing that then. Good luck. I hope it goes the way you want it to.” He says.

“I hope so too.” You say.

You gave Bucky a smile before walking away. Bucky watched you walk away with a smile on his face. Then he went on about his day and met up with Sam.

“I just think it’s best to help the people who were in the blip.” You say.

“You don’t know what’s best for them.” The senator says.

“I can’t imagine what they went through during those 5 years, but this could be helpful to them.” You say.

“This discussion is over. Let’s move on.” He says.

You opened your mouth to argue back, but an alarm went off and a red light turned on. Everyone in the room, looked around with confused looks on their faces. Everyone was ushered out of the room and the building. Everyone was told to go outside of the building.

You then noticed someone wearing a mask with a red hand print on it. You already knew that meant it wasn’t good. So you tried to sneak away. You thought you were in the clear till someone grabbed your arm, making you stop in your tracks. You turned your head to see the person wearing the mask with the hand print on it.

“You’re not going anywhere.” Karli says.

You whimpered when her grip on your arm tightened. Karli pulled you towards a police vehicle, almost making you trip over your own feet. She shoved you in the vehicle and stared you down for a second before closing the doors and putting a lock on it. You shifted yourself in the seat and leaned your head back against the side of the vehicle.

“Was this part of your plan?” The senator asks you. “To get us held hostage?” He says.

“No.” You answered honestly, lifting your head to look at him. “I don’t even know what’s going on.” You say.

“Yea, right.” He said.

You scoffed at him and looked out the window of the vehicle. After a little bit, there was a noise that sounded like an explosion. Your eyes went wide when you seen a fire outside of the vehicle.

“Fire.” You whispered. “Fire!” You finally say louder.

The senator and everyone else in the vehicle looked out the window to see the fire. Everyone, including you, began freaking out. You started pushing and pounding on the door to get it to open, but it was no use due to the lock that was put on it to trap you, the senator, and a few other people inside of the vehicle.

That’s when you seen a familiar face running towards the vehicle. It didn’t take you long to realize it was Bucky. You frantically tapped on the window to get his attention. Bucky heard the frantic tapping and seen you.

“I’m going to get you guys out. Just hold on, ok?” Bucky says loudly so you could hear him.

You nodded your head. Bucky’s vibranium hand gripped the handle and he pulled on it, using all of his strength. He looked at the door, seeing the lock. His vibranium fist punched the lock to break it. Then he tried opening the door again. After having to use force to get it open, it opened up. Everyone got out of the vehicle quickly.

“Thank you, sir!” The senator says, shaking Bucky’s hand.

Bucky nodded and turned his attention to you. He helped you out of the vehicle. You immediately wrapped your arms around him and leaned your head against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you too, holding you close to you.

“You’re ok.” He coos softly. “You’re safe and sound now.” He whispers. “Let’s get you somewhere safe.” He says.

You nodded against his chest. Bucky picked you up bridal style and carried you somewhere safe. He gently sat you down on a bench and sat down next to you.

“Are you hurt?” Bucky asks, checking you for injuries.

“No. I’m just shaken up is all.” You say.

“You’ll be fine. Just sit here and take a moment to yourself.” He says softly.

“I know you’re working, but can you stay with me?” You asked. “I don’t want to be alone.” You say.

“Of course, doll.” He smiles.

You and Bucky maneuvered yourselves so you two were facing each other. While you two were sitting there, the senator approached you.

“Y/L/N, I owe you an apology.” The senator said.

You looked at him, waiting for his apology. Bucky looked at him too.

“I shouldn’t have accused you of being part of this.” He starts.

“You accused her of this?” Bucky asks him. “She had nothing to do with this. You just wanted to play the blame game.” He said.

“Yes I did and I’m sorry for that.” He apologizes. “If it’s ok with you, you can present your idea again if you want.” He says.

“I would like that.” You say, giving him a smile.

The senator held his hand out for you to shake, which you did.

“Also, if you want to take some time off, you can. I wouldn’t blame you if you did.” He said.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You replied.

He nodded and walked away.

After thinking about it, you decided to take some time off. After getting your idea to help people who were in the blip up and running, you decided to take a vacation. Then there was a knock at the door. You got up from your spot on the couch to answer the door. You smiled when you opened the door. You stepped aside to let him come inside.

“Hi Bucky!” You smile widely and hugged him. “What brings you by?” You asked.

“I wanted to see how you were doing, especially after that incident with Karli.” Bucky says.

You smiled, loving that he’s so caring.

“I’m doing better than I was that day.” You tell him.

“That’s good.” He replies. “You look better too.” He says.

You couldn’t help but smile at his sweet words.

“If it’s ok with you, I’d like to accept your offer on that drink if it’s still open.” You say.

“That offer will always be open for you, doll.” He smiles.

“Good.” You grabbed your purse and phone. “I neat a drink or two after what I’ve been through.” You say.

“I’m with you on that, doll face.” He chuckles, following you out the door.

You looked at Bucky with a smile on your face.

“What’s with the smile, doll?” Bucky asks curiously.

“We’re going to be great friends.” You say.

“I hope so.” He smiles and wraps his arm around your shoulders. “I did I save you and check up on you.” He says.

“My knight and shining armor.” You grinned up at him, playfully batting your eyelashes.

“You know it, babydoll.” He said before kissing the top of your head.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[capncurly]

ok guys i don't like how someone threw it out there that curly was an enabler and now we've made that his entire personality, just like how we made rapist the only thing jimmy was about.

yes, curly's reaction to anya's words was not great, but let's dig a little deeper there. it's very much implied/obvious that him and curly's relationship wasn't good at all, given how curly reacts to jimmy's outburst. the implication that there was emotional abuse shouldn't be taken as absolute but you should also take it into consideration

and also, the psych evals. normally, a responsible fucking captain would've honestly done it, but the way that he lets jimmy slide and passes him in spite of work ethics and the possible violation he might be making by doing that gives some vague feeling of him feeling a need to cover up whatever jimmy's answers were or something adjacent to it implies SOMETHING. you dont just risk a work violation to make your 'friend' pass for nothing.

(this also kinda ties in to jimmy going "i can do it, i can fix things, i can fix this.")

also, the scenes in which you play from curly's point of view, where you walk through a sea of blood with disturbing warnings and alarms just to reach the sun -- the sun, leading to the blank white peace before reaching the cockpit IN WHICH jimmy resides, can be a metaphor for attachment. he was willing to push past unspeakable and disturbing horrors merely to reach jimmy. just so he could talk to jimmy. there has to be a deep relationship between the two of you to be willing to go through things. obviously the scene isn't literal, moreso a sort of analogy for the type of things curly would go to just for jimmy.

imagine that amount of devotion towards a person, who you soon found out to be a rapist. you'd need a whole lot of time before processing that actually, because personally, when i found out that someone whomst i trusted the most would betray me in such a manner, i couldn't move on for fucking years. imagine the person who you've done everything to save, just for them to willingly plunge themselves into the depths of hell.

whether for indulgence, or for control, jimmy did what he did. and curly had barely any time to pross that before jimmy (who was, presumably looking for the gun though had it hidden from him) was walking to the cockpit and crash the ship as an attempt to flee the responsibility of anya's pregnancy.

curly was overloaded with emotional feelings before he could even reach jimmy. he isn't completely blameless, but he isn't an utterly morally reprehensible being. yes, he should have done something--anything than to merely stand by and let things happen, but you can't blame him for not doing so.

he couldn't lock him in the cockpit, because jimmy wouldve done what he did. he couldnt lock him in utility, jimmy would've fucked up the crypopods. he couldn't lock him in medical, jimmy would've messed with their supply. sure, he could try locking him in his own quarters, but what if curly got into an accident even without the crash, and tulpar was left with neither pilots?

curly is a morally ambiguous character. he is neither a wholly good person nor is he a wholly awful person. he is a victim, but he is also an enabler. being a victim shouldnt cancel out being an enabler, but being an enabler shouldnt cancel out being a victim.

stop being fucking media illiterate you idiot and view him through a lens other than black and white IM BEGGING YOU!!!!!!!! sobs

[ssentimentals]

hi! nini! i really liked how u write scoups promptsss… can i request for scoups 25 & 37 suggestive? i feel like this could go together. thank u, nini! have a great day! ><

hihi! aw, thank you!! i do think that cheol is the member that i find easier to write because in my delulu mind i think i get him correctly the most out of all guys :D thank you for requesting and have a great day too! 💜 hopefully you will like it!

suggestive prompt: 'sit down. now.' - 'watch your tone.'

oh, the urge to stand up, throw pillows from sofa to the ground and storm away with a head held high. oh, the urge to slam the door so loudly that windows will shake and all neighbours will startle in surprise. oh, the urge to hear seungcheol's answering groan and see his pissed off face. those urges are so strong that you almost make them all come true. almost. because when you spring up from the sofa, breathing fire from anger, seungcheol grabs your wrist before you can even do anything else and looking you into the eyes mutters darkly: 'sit down. now.'

his commanding tone never fails to send shivers up your spine, but you ignore it, sitting back down on the sofa. but a proud warrior doesn't go down without a fight, so you snark: 'how tables have turned, right? now you understand what it felt like last time, when you tried to leave? not so nice, does it?'

seungcheol narrows his eyes, squinting at you with a barely hidden annoyance. 'can you shut up for a second and let me talk?'

this time you glare at him, shaking his hand off your wrist. 'watch your tone, cheol. and don't tell me to shut up.'

seungcheol looks like he's not sure whether he wants to kiss you senseless to shut you up or if walking away right now seems to be a better decision. his left eye twitches and you try hard not to laugh, but he of course, notices. 'is all of this funny to you?' he asks, sliding up closer to you. 'you find this amusing?'

'i find you idiotic,' you retort haughtily, ignoring how he places his hand at your back. 'and very stupid.'

'good to know.' seungcheol hums, caressing your back gently and smirking, when you lean to the touch just a little. 'anything else you want to comment?'

smile wins over your features, when he cages you with his weight, not giving you any opportunities to run. locking your hands behind his neck, you pretend to think hard about it. 'hm, let's see. i think you're a sore loser, who can't bear to lose a fight to his girlfriend.'

seungcheol snorts and shakes his head. he leans in, kissing your forehead. 'what else?'

he starts peppering your whole face with kisses and you forget your train of thought; some really comebacks were ready but now your head is full of something else. 'you're even bigger idiot than i thought if you won't take me to bed now,' you settle for this at last, flushing from his intense gaze.

seungcheol smiles and lifts you up along with him, making you laugh with his: 'good thing i'm not a big idiot then.'

a/n: request your own here! <3 - nini

[thankskenpenders]

Today we got some news regarding a big change for the Ian Flynn's Q&A podcast, the BumbleKast. As outlined in a blog post by Ian, starting in 2025, all Sonic-related questions submitted to the show will first need to be screened by Sega. (I have to assume this is also why Ian announced they'll no longer be doing live Q&As starting next year.)

Frankly, I can't say this is particularly surprising.

While the BumbleKast is ostensibly a podcast about Ian's work as a freelance writer for all sorts of things, and also just a place for him to shoot the shit about stuff he likes, he's still predominantly seen as The Sonic Guy. Sure, he also does a bunch of other freelance work for other series, and original comics like Drogune, and he's also the narrative mastermind for the whole Rivals of Aether franchise these days, but it's his insights into what goes on behind the scenes with Sonic that people really care about. Your average Sonic fan can't just go up to Iizuka or whoever and ask him a question about the current state of the lore, but Ian's inbox is always open.

Because of this, I've thought a lot about the BumbleKast's place in the fandom and The Discourse in recent years. Ian wants to be as open and honest as he can about his work, and I think that's admirable. To me, hearing about creators' struggles and the shit they go through just to get a story out the door tends to make me sympathize with them more. Sometimes a story just doesn't turn out as well as you'd hoped, but you're on a tight deadline and all you can do is move on to the next project. I've even softened a bit on Penders over the years as he's shared more about the absurd situations and odd creative demands made behind the scenes at Archie. Unfortunately, not everyone has that mindset.

Ian's basically always had obsessive haters who were eager to take everything he says out of context to try and stir up shit, but that used to be contained by the niche nature of the Archie comics. Most of the fandom didn't give a shit about what Ian was doing with Sonic and Sally's love life or whatever. Most of the fandom wasn't even reading those comics. But Ian's gone from being a writer for a non-canon spinoff comic, to being the initial lead writer for the first ever canon Sonic comic series, to being the new main writer for the games themselves as part of the official Sonic Lore Team. Way more Sonic fans care about his work now, and when he's so open about his work that makes him an easy scapegoat.

It feels like damn near every week on Twitter Ian's personal trolls have posted yet another BumbleKast clip out of context to rile up the fandom and make it look like he has no idea what he's talking about or like he has some kind of agenda. And, unfortunately, people often fall for this. Of course, it also goes the other way, with people more sympathetic towards Ian taking things he says about Sega and framing them as proof that Sega has no idea what they're doing with the brand. Which, well, let's be real, isn't always the most unreasonable thing to think, given Sonic's rocky history. But I'm surprised it took this long for Sega to start paying more attention to what gets said on the BumbleKast when fans use it so regularly as a source of drama.

I've also often felt that they just need to be WAY more selective about what messages they respond to on the show. Questions Ian can't actually answer due to NDAs, questions that are borderline incomprehensible, "questions" that are really just fan ideas. And the haters, oh, the haters. Ian does not need to put up with angry rants about how he should make SonAmy canon or what the fuck ever. Even if Ian's willing to put up with it, as a listener it can make the show just super unpleasant at times when someone aggressive pops up with an inflammatory question. There have been entire BumbleKast Mini episodes I had to skip because they were just obsessive critics of Ian's paying to grill him on a dozen different things and treat him like an idiot.

But at the same time, I get why the show got to be this way. It's become a part-time job for Ian with multiple new episode a week. Given how piss poor the pay tends to be for freelance writers, I can't really blame him for wanting to keep this secondary stream of income open, and to not have to refund people left and right for rejecting their questions. The man's got bills to pay. (And so does Kyle, for whom managing the BumbleKast seems to have become a full-time job.)

I dunno. The man's got the patience of a fucking saint. I would've quit the franchise if I was in his shoes, with people wishing he would die for shit like minor disagreements over Sonic's characterization or him misremembering an obscure old lore thing. While I do hope that Sega doesn't keep too tight of a leash on him moving forward, and I hope that he's still able to speak his mind about his work, part of me also hopes that having to be much more selective about Sonic questions results in less bullshit like this.

[cjlouwho]

He'd forced himself to stay out of bed until at least eight o'clock. Glancing at the clock on the wall every two minutes as he flipped through the channels on TV. He had exited out of his DVR pretty quickly. Most of the things on there were shows that Buck had recorded for them to watch together later. There was a documentary on beetles of the world that they had only gotten halfway through before they were stumbling into the bedroom, not that Tommy minded. He'd never really wanted to watch the documentary in the first place. Now he'd give anything to have Evan beside him, talking over everything the narrator said.

He wanted today to be over. Wanted to fall asleep and wake up and it be another normal day. Just Friday, November 29th. Nothing special about that.

The second it hit eight, Tommy was shutting off the TV and getting up to head to his room. He stopped as he passed the front door. He swore he could hear something on the other side of it. A rustling, mixed with someone cursing under their breath.

He sighed. He was supposed to be getting a new part for his truck delivered soon, and the guy probably tossed it, angry about having to make deliveries on Thanksgiving.

He flipped on the light before opening the door, freezing when he saw it was definitely not some random delivery guy on the other side.

"Ev- Buck? Why are... What?"

"I dropped the pie," Buck whined, scooping pumpkin pie off of Tommy's front porch and plopping it back into its container.

It took Tommy a second to understand what was happening. There was a brown bag by the door, filled to the top with containers, and a couple more containers beside it.

Then there was the pie, most of it back in the container with some smeared in Buck's hand, and remnants on the porch. There would be ants everywhere by morning. But that was a tomorrow problem.

"Here, Buck, it's fine, just-"

"You weren't supposed to come out yet," Buck explained in a bit of a panic. He was still bent over, picking at the crust on the ground. "I was gonna ring the doorbell and go before you got to the door."

"You were gonna ding dong ditch me?" Tommy asked, trying to lighten the mood. When it didn't work, he took a step closer to Buck, "Buck, seriously, it's fine. You didn't need to do all this."

Finally, Buck stood, his pumpkin covered hand held out. "Well, I know you don't wanna see me or talk to me, but I wanted you to have some of the food because when we planned everything it was with you in mind, and we had a lot leftover and I knew you wouldn't fix yourself anything and-"

"Buck, just... just come in and wash your hands, please, okay? I'll grab the food."

Buck took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I'll be in and out."

Tommy stepped to the side, letting Buck in first. He grabbed up all the food and followed behind him into the kitchen. "Feels like there's enough here to feed me for a week."

"I figured you might want to take some into work with you, or freeze it or something," Buck replied, scrubbing the pumpkin off his hand.

"I appreciate it. You, um, you really didn't have to do all this. I did end up making some Thanksgiving foods for myself."

Buck huffed out a laugh. "What? Stovetop stuffing and cranberry sauce?" He grabbed the towel from beside the sink and turned to Tommy looking at him from across the kitchen island, his face blank and eyes a little red. Buck shook his head. "Sorry, that was mean, I- I didn't mean it to sound like that."

"It's fine. You're not wrong about that, actually."

"Still, I, uh, I shouldn't have said it like that. Sorry." He dropped the towel back by the sink and pushed himself away from the counter. "I'm gonna go, but Happy... Happy Thanksgiving, Tommy."

Tommy pursed his lips as Buck walked by, heading for the door. Part of him was saying to keep quiet, let him go. The other part told him he was an idiot if he did that.

"You are wrong about something though," he blurted, stopping Buck before he could get too far.

Buck turned back to him. "What's that?"

"I have wanted to see you, and talk to you."

They stared at each other for a moment, both of their hearts thumping in their chests.

"You have?" Buck questioned. "Could've fooled me."

Yeah, he deserved that. "Listen, are you hungry at all?" Tommy asked. "I could get this warmed up and we could eat, talk, fight, whatever. I... I feel like I left a little too soon and you deserve more of an explanation than what I gave you. No pressure though, if you wanna go, I'll understand, I just think-"

"I could eat," Buck interrupted. "As long as you mean it all. Even the fighting part."

Tommy smiled softly. "I would really, really love to fight with you this Thanksgiving, Evan."

"You sure?"

Tommy nodded.

"Okay then," Buck agreed. "I'd really, really love to fight with you too."

“The team is off this year, and you are too, so I’m going to show you what a real Thanksgiving looks like.”

That’s what Buck had told him a month ago, a late night discussion in bed at the loft, Buck’s shoulder healed enough to lie down but Tommy making no effort to leave him.

Being off for Thanksgiving was rare, both of them being off was practically a miracle. Buck was determined not to waste it.

He’d asked Tommy about what his Thanksgivings were like growing up. Tommy had told him, the first few he could remember were his dad yelling about something not being done right and his mom ending up in the bedroom crying.

After she died, there was no more Thanksgiving at all. The only thing Tommy would do, more for his mom than anything else, is make her “special homemade dressing” (a box of Stovetop), and cranberry sauce. He’d eat it alone in the kitchen while his dad downed one beer after another in his chair in the living room, watching whatever game was on.

And once he was an adult, he worked pretty much every Thanksgiving, so he didn’t think much of it.

Buck had kissed him hard after that, promised this year would be different. They’d all be at Maddie and Chimney’s place, but everyone was going to pitch in with the cooking. There would be kids running around, and games, and way too much food, and maybe once everyone else left they’d watch a Christmas movie.

Tommy played it cool, but he felt like a kid on the inside. He was so excited. He’d get to be with his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s family, which were his friends too. There would be laughter and embarrassing stories told. The kids would be getting excited for Christmas and he’d ask Jee what she was wanting so he could get her present sorted out. It would be perfect.

Tommy cleared his throat as he turned off the stove, blinking away the tears in his eyes. He set the stuffing on the back burner, letting it sit while he scooped two spoonfuls of cranberry sauce on his plate. From the fridge he grabbed a beer and set it at the table. Then he went back to the stuffing and stirred it, satisfied with the thickness. He added a bit more than a regular serving size to his plate, then walked back to the table.

From his seat he could hear the game on in the living room. If he pretended enough, he could imagine his dad in there. At least then he wouldn’t be alone.

[maxmaxsupersupermax]

Max doesn't see Charles until he's two beers and almost two gin and tonic's in. He's seen most other drivers, at least in passing and he'd asked (GP, because he understands Max is a little...insane about Charles) about him, but GP had been a bit cryptic and told him that Charles lost his mind a little on the radio.

Which had confused Max for a second. What happened? Max hadn't done anything, right?

He hadn't put up much of a fight, not like he normally would. He wasn't racing Charles today (soon, his mind supplies, soon). He just needed to be ahead of Lando, no risks.

He'd done that. He'd been good.

So what had Charles done?

'Charles!' It doesn't matter anyways. Charles looks up from the floor. He's got a guy in a Ferrari jacket with him that Max doesn't immediately recognize.

When Charles spots Max, he smiles. He hadn't been smiling before. 'Max, congratulations.'

A few of the guys are trying to guide Max to a car and Martijn is blowing up his phone, but Max pulls away and approaches him. The man in the Ferrari jacket looks unamused, but Max is the World Champion, what is he going to do?

'Thanks mate.' Max says.

To his surprise, Charles steps into his space and gives him a short, but firm hug. 'You absolutely deserve it. You have been outstanding this year.'

Max feels his cheeks flush. 'Thanks. Are you coming out?'

Charles makes a face and looks over his shoulder at the Ferrari employee. 'I have a very unpleasant debrief to go to.'

'After, then. Come join us. Let loose.' Max says, pleads. 'I'll text you the address.'

Another glance over his shoulder, but Charles smiles at him. 'If I'm allowed, I'll come.'

Max grins at him and, like an idiot, gives him a thumbs up. 'Awesome.'

Charles looks very amused by him, but his smile fades. 'Alright, bye now Max. Enjoy your celebrations.'

Charles' chin dips back down as he turns to leave. Max doesn't know what he's done, or what this is all about, but he knows Charles shouldn't look like that.

'Hey,' Max calls and Charles stops and looks at him. 'keep your chin up, yeah?'

Charles seems to straighten up almost on autopilot. He lifts his chin and then smiles gently.

'Thank you, Max.'

He's not sure what for but he'll take it. 'Yeah, of course. Hey and, whatever you've done, I'm sure I've done worse and look at me.' He grins, motioning at the World Champion hat he's got on.

Charles' eyes dart up to it and Max swears he can see a flash of steel, a sharp edge of determination in those green eyes.

But then the calls of his name get louder and his phone starts ringing, Martijn no doubt, and Charles is waving at him and walking away.

Max might be imagining it, but he swears Charles is standing taller now.

[faylvrs]

secret santa from who ? ✿ jjk multi

﹒postscript : knock knock, you’ve got mail. feat. ɞ‎ megumi, yuji, gojo, geto, yuta ʚ fem reader in gojo’s

megumi could only sit there and watch you enthusiastically shake the box in your hand, not making any effort to hide the frown on his face.

when you asked him to come sit with you on the couch, the last thing he expected was for you to announce you had a secret santa. which, by the way, was not him.

“why are you so excited?” megumi watches you tear open the wrapping. “it’s probably a box of cookies or someth-“

“megs, look!” megumi reluctantly looked down at the box, eyes widening at the sight—is that a plushie of him?

no, wait. it was a poorly done crochet.

“you’re adorable! your forehead is so big.” you heartily laugh, but megumi doesn’t seem to be liking this present.

megumi sends the plushie an immediate glare, that looks nothing like him.

“who…” megumi grumbles. “that idiot..”

so thats why yuji said he was getting into crocheting.

”baby, i don’t want you to open that.” yuji huffs as he attempts to snatch the bag away from you, barely putting in any effort since he knows you’re opening it either way.

yuji wanted to be your first secret santa this year arround, he had the perfect gift planned and everything and yet someone still managed to beat him to it.

“don’t be pouty, yuji.” you push him away, taking out the item from the bag. it’s a box—a ring box.

“oh wow.” you open the box, inside shining a promise ring. “look-“

“give me that.” yuji snatches it away, gazing at the ring with a judgemental look. “green isn’t even that nice of a color. you’re not wearing this.” yuji pouts.

“i wasn’t planning to.” you laugh, rolling your eyes. “looks like i’ve got a secret admirer, huh?”

“heyy! don’t say that.” yuji leans into your embrace—someone else admiring you? give him a break.

“alright, alright, sorry.” you peck his forehead.

satoru stares blankly at the present box laid out at your front door. he’d just came back from a mission, and the last thing he was expecting was a package.

“surely she wouldn’t mind..” satoru picks the present up, reading the note on it. from : your secret santa, winky face.

satoru couldn’t help but scoff. “the hell do they think they are?” satoru rips open the paper, seeing a chocolate box inside.

“woah, guess this was fate afterall…” satoru’s mouth waters, throwing the wrapper away as he opens the chocolate box.

“well well, come to papa-“

“…satoru?”

your eyes wide as you see the wrapper of the present you were about to pick up on the floor, ripped.

“is that-“ you look at the chocolate box in satoru’s hand. “my present?!”

“well you see..” satoru scratches his head nervously.

he was put on a sweets ban. but hey, shoving all the chocolates in his mouth before you could hit him was totally worth it.

suguru was just clearing out the mailbox, not expecting a blue bag to fall out.

he picks up the bag from the ground. secret santa for : you !

suguru couldn’t help his eyes slightly twitch, for you? he wasn’t aware you’re getting secret santa’s.

“this handwriting…. looks familiar.” suguru shakes his head, he’s probably just dizzy.

he walks back inside the house, calling out your name. you leave your room at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice.

“you’ve got mail, pretty.” he watches you approach him, a smile on his face. not as if he was happy right now, though.

“for me?” you take the bag curiously, reaching your hand inside as you take out a letter.

you open the letter, your face morphing into confusion as you read it. get pranked, loser!

there was a chibi drawing of satoru below it.

“that bastard.” suguru lets out a chuckle. oh he is not letting satoru get away with this.

atleast it wasn’t a love confession, poor guy would have another thing coming for him if it was.

you’ve never seen yuta this jealous before.

“you don’t even like roses.” yuta crosses his arms. “do you have to keep them? can’t you throw them away?”

you had just gotten a secret santa from somebody anonymous. you had to explain yuta what a ‘secret santa’ exactly is, but now you wish you didn’t.

he’s usually calm and gentle with you, but he’s been giving you the stink eye the past half an hour.

he can get you flowers too, your favorite infact.

“i don’t wanna throw them away, yu.” you pour some water into the vase. “they’ll die.”

yuta walks towards you, taking your hand. “please? ill buy you better ones later today.” he smiles at you sweetly.

“yuta.” you sigh, knowing you have to comply when he looks at you like that.

“fine.. ill throw them away.”

[revelboo]

Hey darlin’, I hope you’re doing well!!! Congrats on the 1k!!! Thank you for sharing all your wonderful work!!! If it’s not too big an ask, have you ever considered doing any writing for Swerve??? I’m afraid that lil mech makes me melt and I see a lot of myself in him haha

He’s definitely fun to write

Hangman

IDW Swindle x Reader

• There’s an art to deceiving someone. It’s not in his voice or tone, it’s in finding what they need to believe and taking full advantage. Verbal sleight of hand. And it pays to know what everyone needs, because while he can and will find a buyer anything they desire, it’s information he deals in. Rumors, secrets, and gossip. A lot of it never pans out, but some of it? Sometimes he’s caught completely off guard, like now. Staring at the impossible little human that just blipped into what seems be very painful existence with a choked cry almost in his hands as he’s sorting through inventory. Because apparently that big moron with Krok’s rambling had been true not just his flavor of crazy. Who’d have guessed?

• Eyes streaming as your whole body burns without flames, you’re only dimly aware of falling and hitting something warm. Just curling into yourself, there’s a feeling of pins and needles running through you as you struggle to suck in a breath. What was that? Head lifting slightly, you stare uncomprehendingly at four big cylinders inches from your face, making a noise when they curl toward you and you crane your neck. Because those are hands. And they belong to a monster staring down at you in surprise. There’s no thought beyond getting away, trying to fling yourself out of this thing’s hand. Falling headfirst into a slightly musty smelling mountain of clothes.

• For a tiny thing, you’re surprisingly fast and hard to hold onto. Trying to burrow into his inventory to avoid him, but finally he catches you by a leg and drags you out. Braces for the screaming, but your expression is pure calculation as you twist and try to wiggle free. “Alright, Squishy. Spill. How’d you get on my ship?” Because that’s what he needs. Intel.

• Ship as in space ship? Because this thing gripping you by a leg is definitely not from your planet. You can’t be on his ship. You’d been at work, right? This is definitely not where you’d been only minutes before, though. If big and scary didn’t beam you up, how’d you get here? There’s no time to puzzle it out, because he’s hauling you up by a leg. “Put me down or I’ll lay eggs in you,” you blurt out, feeling like an absolute idiot, because this thing obviously knows about humans. It was human clothes you were rooting through, after all. And that’s what you’d gone with?

• You’re lying to a liar? Lips twitching he vents in amusement. “That so, human? You’re really going to try to con me?” So maybe he doesn’t know that much about actual humans aside from the general squishiness, but he can tell a liar when he sees one. And you’re bad at this. “Try again.”

• Dangling there feeling the blood rushing to your head, you just give up and flip him off with both hands, because if you’re going to die anyway it might as well be with one last petty bit of rebelliousness. And he laughs, nearly dropping you back in the clothes. “You know what? I think we might be able to work together to make a profit,” he says, optics narrowing as his grin widens. Not sure what to make of him or any of this craziness. Then he does drop you into the pile, still laughing as you yelp.

[postcardsfromheapside]

No. I wasn't missing the point of most criticism. Literally, I saw post after post of people saying they wished the characters could be mean to each other. Some posts were more specific, like "I don't like Taash," (and I'm sure you can imagine what THAT'S about) and some were more ambigious but cited DA2 and how everyone was bitchy toward each other.

I honestly don't care where you work and what you do, because hopefully most of us after the age of 30 have experienced an adult job where we have to be reasonable with our coworkers, even if we strongly disagree, or outright dislike them. I had the suspicion that most people who think that there is "no conflict," or "low conflict" or "bad writing" in this game haven't experienced this kind of setting in any capacity. What I'm now hearing is that you might have, but you didn't absorb any of the dialogue, or switch out your party to listen to banter, which is an essential function for picking up information in any DA game.

I walked around Arlathan with Lucanis and Harding, and they have a whole ongoing conversation in which she threatens him with one of her special arrows. And he agrees that if Spite should take him over, she should do something about it. Harding isn't frightened, because Harding isn't a pushover, but she's not taking any shit either. Did you walk around with just the two of them right after recruiting Lucanis? Did you frequently visit the rest of the companions so that you could see just how much Lucanis and Davrin *didn't* get along? Neve mentions what sounded like a knock-down drag out fight.

**Just because this isn't explicitly mentioned to you doesn't make it bad writing - it means you haven't had the time we had with Inquisition to play the game over and over and switch out your party so you can see everyone's interactions with each other. You will actually have to play the game multiple times and switch your party out a fair amount in order to see these interactions. Or wait for people to post them to tumblr. You can complain about how unfair this is, or remember that Inquisition has 10 years on this game, and it's been out for just shy of a month.**

Why in the absolute fuck would Davrin manufacture conflict between himself and someone he could easily conjecture isn't pro-slavery based on the fact that within five minutes he could find out she's from Dock Town, she's a private investigator working with the Shadow Dragons, and LITERALLY WHEN YOU GET ONTO THE DOCK WITH HIM, her first priority as she's running back to Minrathous is to say "if the dragon wrecks havoc, the Venatori will take over." Davrin isn't an idiot, he could pretty well surmise that she's not "pro slavery" with only the barest of interactions and Rook saying "yeah Neve's cool."

Why would Neve yell at you? Why is it bad writing for the writers to give Neve a personality you don't agree with, because you're uncomfortable with how she reacts? Neve's an adult who is used to working on her own and people not showing up for her - she says this MULTIPLE TIMES - it's actually a large arc of bonding with her, as a friend and a lover. She's not going to scream at you, she's so far past the point of being loud about disappointment, she's on the other side, for one, and for another, she does in fact understand that the entire North of Thedas is on fire and blighting Treviso is pretty fucking bad when it has no major defenses. Rook doesn't endlessly apologize. She came back after a short pause and while I didn't have her healing abilities after that, it didn't take long for me to boost my bond with her back up and feel like we were friends again.

This honestly feels like you're having a personal reaction that you need to examine, and it's not something to do with the writing, since the game mechanics and the dialogue don't actually bear out what you're putting down here.

All of the companions who have conflict initially have to figure out how to trust each other and it sometimes takes most of the game for them to do that. If you didn't spend the time listening to their banter as they work their way through it, that's not Bioware's problem. That's you. And...I don't want to have repeated conversations where I go into Emmrich's (my romance) room and "vent"? I didn't do that with Cullen. I didn't do that with Anders. Why would it suddenly be a thing here? But if you listen in to people's conversations, they do express dismay and doubt and fear about the various quests they've been on. Again, it feels like you didn't spend the time eavesdropping or taking people out and listening to banter.

I have no idea what you're talking about with flirting. I flirted with every companion at first even though I knew I was running for Emmrich, and all of them responded according to their personality. I romanced Cullen in Inquisition, and he was pretty quiet initially, until you get to Skyhold, and similarly, most of the companions here retain a certain reticence until the game progresses. But if you're looking for people who get flustered - Lace and Bellara absolutely do! And Emmrich isn't flustered, but he's taken aback a few times before he collects himself and flirts back - though whether you'd actually recognize it for flirting, I'm starting to wonder. The fact that you can't tell with Neve is actually making me tilt my head at the screen, and I say this as a self-confessed disaster who is very very bad at knowing someone is interested. Even I can tell what's going on in DA romances.

This is probably a lost cause, but I urge you to either spend time playing the game again, or watch someone else who really loves DA (and is Veilguard positive) play so that you can watch without being in the thick of it, and hopefully experience more dialogue and different choices.

No, I'm not done yet, I'm house sitting and she left me snacks and soda and not even god could keep me from venting my spleen at this point.

"I wish the companions were meaner to each other in this game, like in DA2."

While I think there's a larger argument to be made discussing the similarities between DA2 and Veilguard, I need everyone to get so close to me right now about a glaring difference:

DA2 involved a ragtag group of assholes with their own agendas coalescing around Hawke's personality or exchange of favors. There was no larger "goal," except maybe Varric's expedition - everything else is encountered as circumstance. You wend your way through your companions' stories while a city winds ever tighter into itself, a spring about to literally explode.

There's zero reason for these people to be nice to each other. They have no point in being around each other except Hawke. They can bitch at each other all they like.

Rook becomes Varric's second in command (I've seen one post say it's about 6 months before the events of the game) with an explicit purpose: find and stop Solas. Harding and Neve are recruited as experts in their respective fields for this particular goal. When it all goes to shit, Neve recruits another expert, Lucanis, to deal with the fallout, and Harding finds Davrin, *also* an expert in his field (monster hunting). When Rook has to make a particularly consequence heavy decision, two more are added to the crew: Emmrich (Fade expert) and Taash (dragon expert). All of these people are extremely competent, and know from the jump that they have one particular goal in mind.

They join ready to work together on Day 1 because if they don't, there's simply no other alternative. It's lights out. Even when they mistrust each other, the direness of the situation is not lost on them. Infighting serves no purpose. That's why the struggle is directed inward: clean up your own house, so we can move as a single unit.

Honestly the fact that what people took away from this game was "I wish my friends were meaner to each other" and not "wow, I wish we all worked together to keep evil dictators from taking over" is fucking mindblowing when I sit back and reread this.

[talesfromawannabejournalist]

Separation Trial

@beef-brisket @things-arent-what-they-seem66

Adam tapped his fingers against the table in a distracted manner. He had been there at the restaurant for a while now. Waiting for his...waiting for Lucifer. He needed to talk with Lucifer, he wanted to talk to him at home about it, in private. However, when he asked about meeting him, Lucifer simply nodded his head and said they could meet at this restaurant.

He didn't even take Adam’s idea at eating at home into consideration. Although the place Adam sat currently was upscale and nice it wasn’t what he wanted to do. This wasn’t where he wanted to have…the conversation. He sighed to himself as he saw Lucifer approach. He barely even said hello before Lucifer kissed him on the cheek before seating himself.

Lucifer: Hello my dearest, what’s going on? Why’d you want to talk at a restaurant? You know we could have talked over the phone. You made it sound so urgent.

Adam took a moment to keep his anger in check. Once again Lucifer wasn’t listening.

Adam: What I wanted to talk to you about couldn’t be said over the phone. It had to be in person. Lucifer we have been married for three whole years now.

Lucifer: Yeah I know, last week was our anniversary. Don’t you remember Addie?

Adam felt his breath hitch and he struggled to not cry then and there. Their third anniversary had been a disaster, he didn’t want to go into it. But Adam had would forever hate that day. It was what made him bring this meeting with Lucifer.

Adam: I do remember, and so should you.

Lucifer: But I literally just said that I

Adam: No, I’m talking about what happened that day. Can you please tell me what happened?

Lucifer was nervous at his husband’s harsh tone but answered him.

Lucifer: Well, I do remember that both of us were so busy, I with handling a fortis problem, then Charlie called and she needed some help with the hotel, and I didn’t get back till late at night. Oh and you had that concert of yours, by the way how was it? I don’t think I asked before.

Adam felt his eye twitch.

Adam: It was not JUST a concert Lucifer.

Lucifer: …Did something happen at the concert?

Adam: More like what didn’t happen.

Lucifer: Did no one applaud you? Were they booing you? Honey don’t worry your a great singer, you’ll bounce back.

Adam: No, there were no applause nor cheers. Because my audience wasn’t there.

Lucifer: Oh, Adam I’m so sorry.

Adam: You weren’t there Lucifer.

Lucifer: What?

Adam: You were not at my concert Lucifer, You were supposed to be there. Because you were meant to be my audience. Because that concert was going to be dedicated to you! It was supposed to be my wedding anniversary present to you!

Lucifer: But, but, but it’s not my fault if you don’t tell me in advance!

Adam: Lucifer I told you weeks prior about it. And you always said that you’d be there. But of course you lied.

Lucifer: I didn’t lie! Shit came up Adam this isn’t my fault. If anything you should have told me before I left that day! On top of that what did you expect me to do? Not do my duty as king. Tell the goetia to handle it themselves!? Say no to my own daughter, your own daughter, I shouldn’t have helped her at all?! Geez you can be selfish sometimes.

Adam’s eyes widened at that statement. He was shocked to his seat still. Then slowly he nodded his head in understanding. He was an idiot for ever even considering giving Lucifer a second chance. Taking a deep breath, Adam looked directly into Lucifer’s yellow, red eyes and said,

Adam: Lucifer, I want a divorce