#offensively dreamy

[pucksandpower]

Bet on It

Charles Leclerc x Marko!Reader

Summary: Charles will do anything for you to finally give him the time of day … even if that means betting on himself to pull off the impossible in exchange for a date with you

“Charles, don’t even start,” you raise your hand to stop him before he can get the words out.

His mouth closes and he looks at you with those puppy dog eyes, like a sad little boy who just got told he can’t have ice cream before dinner.

You have to resist the urge to laugh. Does he really think that’s going to work on you? You’ve seen that look a hundred times before, whenever you turn him down for a date.

Which is every time he’s asked.

“Come on, Y/N,” he pleads. “Just one date, that’s all I’m asking for.”

You shake your head, arms crossed over your chest. “Nope, not gonna happen.”

He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. That tousled mop looks like it hasn’t seen a comb in days. Somehow he manages to make the just-rolled-out-of-bed look work.

“Give me one good reason why not,” he challenges.

“I’ll give you three,” you fire back. “One, you’re an F1 driver, which means you have an ego the size of a not-so-small country. Two, you’re my team’s biggest rival. And three, you’re a player.”

He puts a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “Moi? I would never.”

You fix him with a pointed stare and his innocent act crumbles.

“Okay fine, maybe I used to be,” he admits. “But I’m not like that anymore. I’m ready to settle down, and I want to do that with you.”

“Uh huh, sure you are,” you say skeptically. “I’m not some pitlane groupie. I don’t just fall all over myself for handsome drivers with dreamy eyes.”

His face lights up. “You think I have dreamy eyes?”

You feel your cheeks flush. Crap. You did not mean to let that slip out.

“That’s not the point,” you say quickly. “The point is, the answer is no. It’s always going to be no. So you can stop asking me out already.”

You turn on your heel to walk away, but he reaches out and gently grabs your wrist. You pause, looking back at him.

“Just one date,” he says again, green eyes boring into yours. “Give me a chance to prove myself. If you don’t have a good time, I’ll never ask you out again.”

You consider his offer. One date, that’s all he’s asking for. And really, what’s the harm? It’s not like you have to marry the guy if you go to dinner with him once.

Still … this is Charles Leclerc you’re dealing with. Who knows what kind of charms and flirtatious tricks he’d pull out to try and win you over? You know you find him attractive — those eyes really are dreamy — but getting involved with him would be messy, to say the least. Your grandfather would flip.

“I don’t think so,” you say firmly. “Like I already told you, it’s not going to happen.”

His face falls. For a second you feel a twinge of guilt. He looks so dejected. But then that spark of mischief is back in his eyes. Uh oh. You know that look. The wheels are turning. He’s got an idea.

“Okay, how about we make this interesting,” he says slowly. “If I win the race this weekend, you have to go on a date with me.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. Is he serious right now?

“Let me get this straight … you want to make a bet involving the outcome of the race, when it’s at the Red Bull Ring, our team’s home track, where Max has won four times in the last six seasons? With the rocket ship of a car that is the RB20?” You shake your head in disbelief. “I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

He shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips. “I never said it was a sure thing. But if I manage to pull it off, then you have to hold up your end of the bargain.”

You consider his proposition. On the one hand, the chances of him winning in the Ferrari this weekend are not great. Statistically, Max is the clear favorite. So there’s really no risk of you actually having to go on a date with Charles.

On the other hand, you have to admit the idea is intriguing. And knowing Charles beat the odds to win would be kinda hot ...

Wait, what are you thinking? Get it together, Y/N! This is a terrible idea.

But before you can talk yourself out of it, you hear yourself saying, “Alright, you’re on.”

A wide grin spreads across Charles’ handsome face. “Yeah? We have a bet then?”

You nod, already wondering if you’ve made a huge mistake. “Yep. But don’t look so cocky. The chances of you winning are like a million to one.”

“We’ll see about that,” he says with a wink. Then he glances down at his watch. “I better go. See you in part fermé after the race.”

He turns and saunters off. You watch him go, heart sinking. What on earth have you just agreed to?

***

Your stomach is in knots on race day. You tried to play it cool in front of Charles, but the truth is, you are desperately hoping he does not win this race. One date with him and you know you’ll be a goner. You’re already more attracted to him than you want to admit.

You watch from the Red Bull garage as the cars go around on the formation lap. Charles is starting P5, with Max on pole. The odds are heavily in the World Champion’s favor.

But still … plenty of drivers have won from worse positions. And this is Charles Leclerc you’re talking about. When he sets his mind to something, he’s unstoppable.

The red lights go out and Max gets a clean start, streaking away into the lead. Charles has a decent launch off the line too, but he can’t challenge Max going into turn 1. He slots into P5 behind Lando Norris as they thunder down the straight for the first time.

Your grandfather shoots you a look from across the garage, one eyebrow quirked. He knows about the bet. He wasn’t exactly thrilled when you told him, but amusement seemed to win out over anger in the end. Probably because he’s just as confident as you are that Charles has no chance today.

The race unfolds lap after lap. Max opens up a huge gap while fighting rages behind him. Charles battles with the Mercedes of Lewis Hamilton, exchanging positions several times. By lap 20, Charles is up to P4, having pulled off a stellar overtake around the outside of turn 7.

Half distance comes and goes. Charles is closing in on Checo and George Russell ahead of him. He’s clearly got the bit between his teeth today. You watch with bated breath as he pulls alongside the Red Bull and Mercedes into turn 4, the three drivers going wheel to wheel with barely any room to spare. Charles emerges ahead and suddenly he’s P2.

Your grandfather shoots you another look. “He’s on the podium,” he remarks.

You bite your lip. You don’t need the reminder. Ugh, you knew you shouldn’t have agreed to this.

With 15 laps to go, Max’s engine unexpectedly lets go in a plume of smoke. Your grandfather curses while the Red Bull mechanics stare at the screens in disbelief. Charles swoops through into P1 with Checo behind him, the Ferrari now running up a solid lead.

Barring disaster, Charles is going to win this race. Which means you’re going to have to go on a date with him.

You watch the final laps tick down with growing dread. The checkered flag waves and the Ferrari garage erupts in celebration. Charles pulls the car to a stop and rips off his helmet, beaming from ear to ear. Even from here you can see the pure joy and elation on his face.

He jumps out of the cockpit and is immediately mobbed by his team. You try to slip away unnoticed, but one of the Ferrari press officers flags you down.

“Charles wants to see you for the podium celebration,” he says.

You close your eyes briefly in defeat. There’s no getting out of this now. Slowly you follow the man out to the cool down room. Charles is just coming out, still flushed with victory. When he sees you, his whole face lights up.

“I told you I could do it,” he crows, pulling you into an exuberant hug before you can protest. He smells like petrol and sweat.

“Yeah, yeah, congratulations,” you mumble into his race suit.

He grins down at you. “Don’t look so sad. I promise you’ll have fun.”

You force a smile, but inside your heart is sinking. One date with Charles and you know you’ll never be able to resist him again.

The podium passes in a blur. You manage to avoid any interviews, not trusting yourself not to say something you’ll regret on camera. Like what a cocky, arrogant, too-handsome-for-his-own-good flirt Charles is.

After what feels like an eternity of spraying champagne and cheering crowds, Charles finally finds you again. His hair is still damp and curled wildly from the celebratory drink.

Charles playfully wipes a splash of sparkling wine from your cheek, his touch lingering for a moment.

“Sorry about that,” he says with a twinkle in his eye.

You just shake your head, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face. His joy is infectious.

“I believe you owe me a date,” he says, looking far too pleased with himself.

You sigh, resigned to your fate. “I guess I did make a deal. When do you want to do this?”

“No time like the present.” He glances at his watch. “I’ll pick you up at 7. Wear something nice.”

Your eyes widen. Tonight? You were hoping to have a little more time to mentally prepare yourself. But before you can object, he leans in and presses a swift kiss to your cheek.

“See you tonight, Y/N.”

Then he’s gone, strolling back to the Ferrari garage like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Meanwhile, your heart is thudding against your ribs. You touch your cheek where his lips branded your skin.

You just hope you have the strength not to give in to his charms completely. One date. That’s it. You are not going to fall for Charles Leclerc.

No matter how dreamy his eyes are.

***

The doorbell rings at 7pm sharp. You take a deep breath and smooth down your dress before opening the door.

Charles stands there looking unfairly handsome in a sharp charcoal suit. His eyes light up when he sees you.

“Wow,” he says, gaze traveling appreciatively over you. “You look amazing.”

You feel yourself blush. “Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

He grins and offers you his arm. “Shall we?”

You loop your hand through his elbow and let him lead you to his car. He opens the door for you like a true gentleman. This sweet, chivalrous side is one you’ve never seen before. Already he’s subverting your expectations.

During the drive, Charles asks you questions and listens intently to your answers. He’s completely focused on you, making you feel like the most fascinating person in the world. By the time you arrive at the restaurant, a lovely Italian place near the city center, you’re feeling much more at ease.

Dinner passes enjoyably with playful, flirtatious conversation. Charles has you laughing one minute and blushing the next with his charm and undivided attention. He seems to know just what to say to make you smile. Not an ounce of cockiness or ego shows through.

After you polish off a shared tiramisu, Charles suggests a walk through the nearby park. You happily agree. As you stroll beneath the trees, he tentatively reaches for your hand. When you thread your fingers through his, the smile that lights up his face melts your heart.

You talk softly, learning more about each other. He asks thoughtful questions and shares things about himself that surprise you. Like his close relationship with his family, his secret talent for cooking (which you don’t believe for a second), and his love for composing music.

When he shyly admits he’s never felt this way about anyone before, you don’t doubt his sincerity for a moment. He means every word.

Too soon you’ve looped back to where you started and flag down the valet before making the drive back to the hotel. Charles walks you to your door, still holding your hand like he never wants to let go.

“I had a really nice time tonight,” you say softly.

“Me too.” He moves closer, searching your eyes. “I’d really like to see you again.”

Your breath catches at his closeness and the intensity in his gaze. The wise thing would be to end this now before it goes any further. But his hopeful, heart eyes crumble your resolve.

“I’d like that too,” you whisper.

A smile blooms on his face right before he leans in and kisses you. It’s soft and sweet, sending tingles down to your toes. When he pulls back, eyes shining, you know you’re a goner.

One date turns into two, then three, then suddenly you’re spending every weekend together, traveling between races. Charles goes out of his way to meet up with you, even when it means long flights in between events. Holding you in his arms seems to be the only thing that matters.

When he shyly asks you to be his girlfriend, you don’t hesitate a second before saying yes. The kiss he gives you leaves no doubt about his happiness.

Your grandfather is wary at first, but Charles is relentless, assuring him at every chance how deeply he cares about you. Eventually Helmut accepts that the man gazing at you like you hung the stars is nothing like the flirtatious playboy he assumed.

This is the real Charles — sweet, thoughtful, and absolutely devoted.

The two of you become inseparable. Charles arrives at every race with your hand clasped in his, making sure to greet your grandfather before and after with a handshake and sincere well wishes. He stays close through successes and disappointments, as you become his steadfast supporter.

At night you lay tangled together, talking late into the darkness. He whispers secrets no one else knows and you bare your soul in return. You’ve never felt more understood by someone. In his arms is your favorite place in the world.

When he shyly gives you a key to his Monaco apartment, tears fill your eyes. Calling it home feels as natural as breathing.

Whenever you walk through the door, his eyes light up like you’re the answer to every prayer. He sweeps you into his arms, holding you close as he whispers “I missed you.”

Charles looks at you like he’s seeing his future. “I want this forever,” he murmurs against your lips.

You look into those watercolor eyes and know you never stood a chance at resisting. “Me too.”

***

The new season kicks off and you’re thrilled to be back in the paddock with Charles. The only downside is having to part ways when you reach the garages, going to opposite sides of the divide.

You’ve gotten used to your Red Bull team gear. The colors are familiar, almost comforting. Charles has gently brought up the idea of you wearing Ferrari red instead, but you just can’t bring yourself to do it. That would feel like the ultimate betrayal.

Charles accepts your decision with his usual grace. He knows how difficult this situation is for you, caught between loyalties. But the gleam in his eye tells you he hasn’t given up on swaying you yet.

Sure enough, as Monza approaches, Charles issues a new challenge.

“If I win our home race, you have to wear Ferrari merch next time,” he coaxes, punctuating his request with a kiss.

You pretend to think about it. “Hmm, I guess I could do that.” Seeing his smile light up melts your reluctance.

Charles takes pole position on Saturday, amping up the pressure. Still, you’re not too worried. Max has this in the bag.

Famous last words. You really should have learned better the first time.

Only Max doesn’t have it in the bag. Charles drives a flawless race and takes the victory, the Tifosi crowd exploding with delirious joy. Charles standing proudly atop the podium in front of the sea of fans is a sight you’ll never forget.

Now you have to hold up your end of the bargain.

The next race weekend you show up with a red Ferrari team shirt stretched across your shoulders, a matching cap gracing your head. You feel like a fraud, but a deal’s a deal.

You’re trying to sneak through the paddock unnoticed when a reporter flags you down.

“Y/N, care to explain the new look?” She asks, eyeing your outfit.

You shift awkwardly, grasping for words. “Oh, um, well ...”

Before you can formulate a response, an excited voice interrupts. “That’s my girl!”

Charles appears out of nowhere and throws an arm around you, beaming at the camera.

“Everybody’s a Ferrari fan.” He declares. “Even if they say they’re not, they are Ferrari fans.”

He emphasizes this point by planting a kiss directly on your mouth. You flush crimson but can’t help smiling against his lips.

Pulling back, he winks and shoots the camera a million dollar grin. “She looks good in red, no?”

With that he steers you away, leaving the reporter chuckling behind you.

“You’re terrible,” you scold Charles, but you’re laughing too.

He just grins and kisses your temple. “Maybe so, but I’m your terrible boyfriend who you love very much, yes?”

You roll your eyes but snuggle closer into his side. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

Tomorrow you’ll be back in dark blue, but right now, wrapped in Charles’ embrace and seeing how happy it makes him, you can’t bring yourself to mind the color change too much.

Maybe eventually you’ll get used to alternating depending on whose garage you’re watching from that day. It seems Charles Leclerc has more sway over you than you ever could have imagined, enough to override even a lifetime of team loyalties.

And, as he looks at you like you’re the only woman on earth, you can’t find it in yourself to regret that fact one bit.

***

After the stunt Charles pulled with the interview, you decide turnabout is fair play. An idea starts forming, bringing a devious smile to your lips. Time for a little payback.

You bide your time, waiting for the perfect moment. Finally, an off weekend arrives where Charles is staying at your place. When he goes out to run errands on Saturday morning, you set your plan in motion.

A quick trip to Agent Provocateur provides the supplies you need. After Charles leaves, you slip into the dressing room and emerge wearing a sexy red lace teddy that leaves little to the imagination.

Checking yourself in the mirror, you make a few adjustments. The color is Ferrari red through and through. Charles’ eyes are going to bug out of his head when he sees you in this.

You hear the front door open right on cue. “Mon amour, I’m back!” Charles calls.

“In here!” You reply, reclining casually across the bed. You arrange yourself in a tempting pose and wait.

A moment later Charles appears in the doorway, loaded down with his own shopping bags. When he spots you, he freezes, jaw dropping. The bags tumble unheeded to the floor.

You bite your lip coyly. “Welcome home.”

“What … I … you …” Charles stammers, eyes round as saucers as they rove over you. He seems incapable of forming a coherent thought.

You toss your hair back with exaggerated nonchalance. “Oh this old thing? Just trying on some new clothes. What do you think?”

Charles makes a strangled noise, still rooted to the spot.

You take pity on him and pat the bed. “Why don’t you come over here and show me how much you like it?”

That snaps him out of his stupor. In two strides he’s across the room, mouth capturing yours hungrily. You melt into his kiss, winding your arms around his neck.

When you finally come up for air, his eyes are blazing. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

You trail a fingertip down his chest. “Payback for your little stunt.”

He grins sheepishly. “Okay, I deserved that. But this ...” His heated gaze travels over you again. “You look incredible. Only one thing would make it better ...”

He hurries over to his gear bag, rummaging excitedly. With a flourish, he produces his cap, a large 16 prominently embroidered on the front. Plopping it on your head, he steps back to admire the effect.

“Perfect,” he declares. Taking your hand, he tugs you to the full length mirror.

The vision staring back makes you catch your breath. The red teddy clinging to every curve, paired with Charles’ cap tilted rakishly on top of cascading hair … you have to admit it’s hot. No wonder Charles looks ready to combust.

His arms slide around you from behind, lips finding that sensitive spot beneath your ear. “Have I mentioned how sexy you look in red?” He murmurs.

You tilt your head to give him better access, sighing with pleasure. “Mmm, I think you better show me some more.”

Charles grins against your skin. “With pleasure.”

Scooping you up, he deposits you back on the bed and proceeds to worship every inch of the tantalizing red lingerie with hands, lips, and devoted words.

By the time he finally peels it off you, the teddy is a tattered scrap. But the awed look in his eyes makes it clear the effect is unforgettable.

Laying wrapped in each other’s arms afterward, you kiss the tip of his nose playfully. “So I take it you liked your surprise?”

“Liked it?” He shakes his head in wonder. “I absolutely loved it. You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You snuggle into his chest, satisfied. “Well in that case, expect to see more Ferrari red in my collection in the future.”

His eyes light up. “You’re going to be the death of me. But what a way to go.”

You’ll have to add some rosso corsa to your closet. Not that you mind.

A small price to pay to see that look in his eyes, like you’re the answer to his wildest fantasies come true.

[eddiethebrave]

secret admirer part twelve

318 words

one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven

Steve’s feeling lighter after that. Sure, the things he wants to say to Eddie are stacking up in his brain like before Valentine's, but everything seems that little bit better now that he has plans to see Eddie. And sure, it’s for school, but still. He’s gonna see him. And talk to him. And draw him.

They’d agreed that they’ll work on the portrait of the other when they’re together and work on the self-portraits in their own time and in class. 

Not wanting to suffer another bout of incessant staring, during lunch Steve takes Tommy and Carol’s usual side of the table and they don’t comment on it. He feels like he can finally breathe. That is, until Tommy scoffs. 

“What the fuck is the freak staring at?” he spits.

Steve stills then rolls his eyes. “Not you, Tommy,” he mutters and Carol snorts in amusement. 

Tommy pulls his eyes away from - presumably - Eddie. “What’s your problem?”

Steve looks up from where he was pushing his lunch around with his fork. When he meets Tommy’s eyes, the boy’s face is screwed up in annoyance. 

“Don’t got a problem, man.” Steve shrugs. “I’m just saying, why would Munson be staring at you?”

Tommy’s face tints pink. “Wait.” Steve leans in conspiratorially and drops his voice to a whisper. “You weren’t- Were you, like, staring at him?”

Tommy pulls back in offense. “Fuck off, Harrington.”

Steve brings his hands up in surrender. “Woah, I was just asking. I mean,” He licks his lips, “How’d you know he was staring if you weren’t, too?”

Steve would know. 

Tommy crosses his arms and looks to Carol for support. The girl only looks at him expectantly and pops her gum. 

Steve cracks a grin and reaches over the table to jostle him. “I’m just messing with you, Tommy.”

The tension breaks and Tommy kicks him in the shin under the table. “Asshole.”

thirteen

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sorry if i missed anyone!!

[theostrophywife]

mattheo's mixtape.

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader.

song inspiration: lovesong by the cure.

author's note: this idea has been in my head for so long, but now it's finally out. strap in babes, we're simping for mattheo on main. something about those pretty brown eyes and angelic little curls just get me. your honor, i adore him.

The bell outside the door to the record store chimed softly as the boys ventured inside. Mattheo peered curiously at the buzzing neon sign, the slightly scuffed black and white vinyl floor, and the racks and racks of records lining the walls. Though he hadn’t been to the muggle side of Edinburgh, it didn’t look all that different from its magical counterpart.

Yet Mattheo felt like a fish out of water all the same. 

Behind him, Theo continued rambling as they perused the vast collection of records laid out before them. “What songs have you picked out? Is there a theme? We’ll need to collect all the tapes for the cassette recorder and compile them all into a single tape.” 

The slew of questions Theo threw his way was enough to make him feel overwhelmed. Mattheo was well aware that he was completely out of his depth here, but he was determined to learn. Admittedly, he was quite ignorant of the muggle world until you came into his life. The more you told him about the queer customs and traditions of the non-magical population, the more he began to crave your stories of taking the tube, eating fish and chips until you were sick, and visiting Brighton with your cousins over the summer holiday. 

There was a whole world out there that you were a part of, which made him want to be part of it as well.

“You boys alright?” asked the kind woman behind the counter. "Would you like some help?"

Mattheo shied away from the attention, but as usual, Theo turned on his charm and flashed a winning smile at the older woman. “As a matter of fact, we do,” his friend drawled. “My mate here is looking to make a mixtape for his girlfriend.” 

The woman smiled warmly. “How sweet. I remember those days. There’s nothing quite as magical as first love,” she said with a dreamy, faraway expression. “I’d be happy to help. What songs did you have in mind?” 

After turning over his list, the woman, who turned out to be the owner of the record store, helped compile the cassettes Mattheo needed in order to make the mixtape. She patiently showed them how to record each track and slowed down the instructions so Mattheo could diligently write down notes. 

As Mattheo waited for the next track to record, he watched as Theo tried and failed to flirt with the older woman. 

“I’m flattered, dear. But I’m old enough to be your mum.” Mattheo snickered, causing his best friend to glare at him. 

“Age is nothing but a number, Annette.” 

“You’re a persistent one, aren’t you? I’m sure you’ll find your match someday, Theodore. As I have in my husband, whom I’m happily married to.” She turned over to Mattheo and smiled. “He was my first love too.” 

Making small talk had never been Mattheo’s strong suit and you often teased him that engaging in polite conversation with a stranger every once in a while wouldn’t kill him. Without fail, he sarcastically responded that it genuinely might, which earned him an eye roll. A fond one, though. Followed by a lip bite as you attempted to conceal a smile. 

“How long have you been together?” Mattheo asked curiously. 

“Twenty years,” Annette answered proudly. “Though we were friends for ages before he finally mustered up the courage to ask me out.”

Theo snorted. “Sounds familiar.” 

Mattheo swatted the back of his head. “My girl and I started out as friends too. Best friends, actually.”

“Hey!” Theo whined. “I take offense to that. I’ve known you longer. Only difference is that you and Y/N snog, which I’m more than open to if you asked.” The wink he sent Mattheo's way made the other boy blanch.

“Sorry about him.” It was a sentiment he was quite familiar with when it came to Theo. The twat tended to flirt with anything that had a pulse. Come to think of it, he wouldn't put it past Theo to chat up a corpse. Merlin knows Mattheo had witnessed his friend trying out a pick up line on the Grey Lady. “So, your husband. When did you realize he was the one?” 

“There wasn’t a specific moment, per say,” Annette said thoughtfully. “It’s a culmination of our history together. Since we were friends for so long, Declan just knew me. He knew how I took my coffee and had it ready for me first thing in the morning. He knew that I hated driving in the snow and always offered to give me lift to work when it did. He knew that I had a soft spot for strays and never complained when I brought them home. Declan makes me feel safe. Like I could weather anything the world threw at me as long as he was by my side. I guess when you know, you know."  

Mattheo pondered her words. He couldn’t help but recall all the times that his life felt like a never ending shit storm, like it would swallow him whole and drown him from the weight of his troubles. Yet at the end of the day, he always knew that after the storm came the rainbow. That’s what you were for him. You colored his world so brightly that the dark seemed inconsequential compared to your light. 

“Y/N makes me feel like that too,” Mattheo declared. “She’s patient and kind. She’s the type of person that always sees the good in people. She saw it in me even when I couldn’t see it myself.” 

Behind him, Theo sniffled as he patted his shoulder. For all his jokes and sarcasm, his friend was actually a hopeless romantic deep down. “For Salazar’s sake, Mattheo. Don’t make me bawl like a baby in front of the pretty lady.” Theo wiped at the corner of his eyes rather dramatically. “If Y/N doesn’t marry you someday, then I will. I bet my legs would look amazing in a white dress.”

At that, Mattheo chuckled. He was suddenly glad that his best friend was more than willing to be dragged along in Mattheo’s endeavors to impress his girl. Salazar knew he never would've gotten this far without Theo's self-proclaimed expertise on all things muggle, thanks to his Advanced Muggle Studies class.

As they wrapped up, Mattheo thanked Annette for all her help. Theo promised to come back and winked over his shoulder as Mattheo gathered all of his supplies. The older woman smiled at him as they parted ways.

"Best of luck, Mattheo. Though I doubt you need it. Thank you for indulging an old woman. It was genuinely a pleasure to be able to help you today."

"No, thank you. Y/N is going to love it."

"Your girlfriend is a very lucky girl."

Mattheo shook his head. "I'm the lucky one. This is the least I could do to show her how much I..." he trailed off, trying to find the right words. "How much I care for her."

Care didn't seem like a strong enough word, but it was close. Mattheo wasn't sure he could fully verbalize the intensity of what he felt for you. You weren't just his girlfriend. You were his best friend, too. His confidante. His rock. You were everything to him.

“Remember what I told you. When you know, you know." She patted Mattheo's shoulder. "You talk about Y/N like I talk about my husband. It's clear that she's very special to you. Don't let go of that one."

Mattheo smiled to himself, his cheeks flushing. “I won't.” 

The midnight moon glowed above the Scottish Isles, enveloping the rocky shores of the Black Lake with a chilly breeze that made you shudder even underneath the comfort of your red and gold striped sweater. 

“Are you cold?” Mattheo asked softly, his voice echoing through the empty beach. 

Before you could respond, your boyfriend shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around your shoulders. With a shy smile, you thanked Mattheo and flushed as he took your hand in his. As you continued on your late night stroll, he cleared pebbles in your path to ensure that you didn’t trip over them on the way to the dock. 

It was the little things—the small gestures that Mattheo enacted on a daily basis that made you fall for him even more. Though the relationship was fairly new, the connection between you was undeniable. Perhaps because you started out as potions partners, which eventually blossomed into friendship and now you couldn’t even remember a time when he wasn’t part of your life. 

The two of you settled at the end of the dock and the rickety wood creaked underneath the weight, adjusting to its visitors as Mattheo cuddled you into his side. Warmth radiated off of him, heating you from the inside out with a pleasant flush. Mattheo chuckled as you shoved your cold hands underneath his sweater, curling his fingers around yours and warming you up like your own personal heater. 

“So, why did you want to come out here tonight?” you asked after a moment. 

As you peered up at him, the moonlight kissed your boyfriend’s features, illuminating the sharp edges of his jawline and cheekbones, curving down the slope of his nose and stopping right above his Cupid’s bow where his soft, plush lips curled into a shy smile as he blinked down at you. 

The flush on his cheeks was almost an exact match to the crimson scarf around your neck. He absentmindedly fidgeted with your fingers, his chocolate brown eyes flickering over your face nervously. Mattheo looked so shy and earnest, so unlike the bad boy persona that everyone else seemed to attribute to your boyfriend. 

“I made you something,” he stated. You watched as he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a cassette tape that you hadn’t noticed before. “I noticed that you listen to music while studying or walking through the halls, so I thought I’d compile a few of my favorite songs for you.” 

Your heart warmed at this beautiful boy. “You made me a mixtape?” 

Mattheo nodded, his angelic curls grazing his cheeks. “I can’t take all of the credit. Theo helped me quite a bit. I wasn’t sure how to make the tape for you, but he did since he’s taking Advanced Muggle Studies. We went into town last weekend and this lovely woman from the record shop showed us how to track and record the songs. I picked the ones that remind me of you the most.” 

You looked down at the cassette tape and smiled. The front was covered in little red hearts and spelled out in your boyfriend’s familiar scrawl was Matty’s Mixtape. As if that weren’t enough to make you swoon, underneath the tape was a small booklet with more of Mattheo’s handwriting. You smiled at his selection of songs. There was a mix of Queen, the Cure, the Clash, and of course, the Smiths. It was like having a little piece of Mattheo in your hands.

“I made you a booklet too. There’s a tracklist with reasons why I picked the songs,” Mattheo shuffled beside you, his body language conveying an uncharacteristic shyness. “I also drew a couple of things.” 

Sure enough, the booklet was filled with your boyfriend’s drawings. Your eyes filled with tears as you turned the pages. Mattheo rarely showed anyone his art. He was incredibly protective of anything he created since it showed a certain vulnerability. The fact that he was trusting you with it wasn’t something you took for granted. 

You traced over the drawings with a fond smile. There were portraits of you on one page, while the others contained memories that you were quite attached to. Your first date at the Three Broomsticks. The first time you wore his quidditch sweater to a Slytherin vs. Ravenclaw match. The day you shared a cup of hot chocolate at Madam Puddifoot’s when the two of you were just friends. They were all in here, immortalized on paper. 

Beside you, Mattheo watched anxiously as you flipped through the pages. When you got to the last one, you grinned up at him. “Matty, these are incredible.” 

“Really?” He asked, sounding a bit unsure. “You don’t think they’re cheesy?” 

“No, I love it!” You threw your arms around him and squeezed your boyfriend into a bear hug. He chuckled, burying his face in your hair and savoring the feel of you in his arms. As you pulled away to face him, Mattheo tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His heart hurt just to look at you. He really couldn’t believe you were his. You smiled softly. “And I love you.” 

You said it firmly, like it was a matter-of-fact. Like you were reciting a truth as fundamental as gravity. 

“You love me?” 

“I do,” you replied with a smile. “I love you, Mattheo Riddle.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Absolutely positive.” 

“I just don’t want you to feel like you have to say it because I made you this mixtape and gave you cheesy drawings—”

He stopped mid-sentence as you grabbed his face with both hands. Mattheo softened at the fierce determination in your eyes. “Mattheo. You’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had. Before that, you were the best friend I’ve ever had too. You treat me like a queen and I never have to worry about other girls trying to talk to you because you never even give them the time of day. You make me soup when I’m sick. You give me your jumpers when I’m cold. You bring me coffee when I’m pulling all nighters. I couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend, so yes. I love you. Not because of the mixtape or the drawings, but because you’re you.”

Mattheo was taken aback. Before you, he never thought he was capable of caring for someone so deeply. You were ingrained in him. It was like the universe had cleaved his soul in two and he’d spent an eternity searching for you. You were his other half—the better half of him that he’d been missing all along. Now that he found you, he had no intention of letting you go. 

The lovestruck expression on his face warmed your heart. His eyes—those sweet, warm brown eyes made you feel weak in the knees. Mattheo cradled your jaw and looked at you like you were the only girl in the world. 

“I love you too, Y/N.” 

You smiled as he leaned forward, bringing your lips to his in a tender kiss. He sighed in relief like he’d been waiting for this all day, fingers snaking through your hair as your body melted into his. Mattheo hummed, peppering kisses all over your face. You giggled as he pecked your cheeks, nose, jaw, and neck. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he declared with every kiss. 

Burying your face into his neck, you inhaled the familiar scent of amber, cinnamon, and leather. Mattheo sighed as you scratched his scalp.

“Will you tell me about the songs while we listen to them?” you murmured against his skin. 

Mattheo nodded as his curls tickled your cheek. “Of course, sweetheart.”

He pulled out a cassette player and popped the tape in. You cuddled into his side, smiling as he presented you with one half of the headphones. The soft crooning sound of the Smiths filled your ears as Mattheo played with your hair, telling you little anecdotes about the band and how Theo almost knocked over the cassette recorder while he tried to flirt with the record shop owner. 

You chuckled as you listened, picking up the sweet lyrics that made Mattheo choose the songs in the first place. You loved each one of his picks, but the best song by far was the sound of his heartbeat thudding in your ears, syncing with your own as it beat for him and him alone.

[valsverse]

‎‎‎‎‎‎⠀⠀(୨୧) STOLEN KISSES AND POMEGRANATE SEEDS⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀. .⠀PAIRING ⠀⟡⠀ percy jackson x child of aphrodite!reader

﹙💌﹚ in which ：as a child of aphrodite, you have a liking for things that are red. roses, pomegranates, percy jackson's lips- wait, what?⠀ ── ⠀ 645⠀requested

THE DROWSY SUMMER SUN bled through the leafy canopy of the oak tree where you and percy sprawled at a weathered picnic table. half-sliced pomegranates littered the space between you, their seeds like tiny rubies glinting in the light, the crimson juice trickling down the oak’s surface, painting it in delicate, sinuous lines of red.

percy moved with practiced ease, his pocket knife flashing as he worked, methodically picking out the seeds for you to savor. slice, halve, pick. slice, halve, pick. you stole glances at him from the corner of your eye, captivated by the way the sunlight played in his dark hair, how his laughter lines carved deeper when he smiled, how his focus sharpened as if each seed were a treasure meant only for you. his hands were steady, deliberate, as he plucked each seed and let it fall into the porcelain, gold-rimmed bowl from which you ate.

breaking from your trance, you nudged him lightly with your elbow. “you know aphrodite was the first to plant pomegranates, right? you ought to thank her later,” you teased, a sly smile tugging at your lips.

percy looked up, his brows arching in exaggerated surprise. “oh? is that right?” he asked, his chin resting on his hand as his knife paused mid-air. his eyes, a stormy sea green speckled with flecks of gold, met yours with an unsettling calm that sent a flutter through your chest—a flutter that had been growing more insistent lately, as if it had a mind of its own. almost annoying.

“of course it is! are you implying otherwise?” you shot back, crossing your arms. you knew he wasn’t, but you seized onto the distraction, anything to escape the warmth growing in your chest.

percy’s smile only curled with a lazy grace as he toyed with the pomegranate seed he picked earlier, his fingers moving idly as his gaze remained fixed on you. he shook his head with an air of dreamy nonchalance, offering no reply, only a sigh that seemed to drift on the air.

“are you even listening?” you teased, laughter laced through your words as you reached out to snatch the seed from his hand. the seed’s cool, slick surface was a stark contrast to the warmth that spread through your fingertips as they brushed against his. percy arched an eyebrow, a mock offense flickering in his eyes, but let you take it, his touch lingering just long enough to send a shiver down your spine. as the tart sweetness of the pomegranate seed burst on your tongue, you caught the glimmer of something in percy’s eyes—an expression that shifted from surprise to delight. his laugh followed, rich and warm, a melody you'd memorized long ago. “what is it?” you asked, pausing mid-chew, the seed still resting on your tongue as curiosity knit your brows together. “what’s so funny?”

"nothing," percy said, his voice thick with amusement as he tried to catch his breath. "it’s just…" he trailed off, his gaze softening as he leaned in, closing the distance between you. "you’ve got a little something…"

before you could react, he tilted his head and swiped his tongue over the crimson stain of pomegranate juice that had pooled at the corner of your mouth with a deliberate slowness, the touch of his lips sending a shock of warmth through you. and then, as if pulled by a force neither of you could resist, he deepened the kiss, the sharp tang of pomegranate mingling with the heat of his breath, the world narrowing to just this—just him.

his hand cradled your cheek as he finally drew back, his breath still hot against your skin. “there, that's better.” he murmured, a soft smile ghosting across his lips as he held up the pomegranate seed you’d claimed earlier, rolling it between his fingers. “you’re right. i really should thank aphrodite later.”

©valsverse— do not steal, edit, or repost my works. plagiarism is prohibited.

[rosesdrop]

Choose a plant

Fun reading

An overall description of your traits

1.

First thing I'm getting is how down to earth and fair you guys are. You're very soft and dreamy, I'm getting such fairy energy. You have a strong sense of fairness. Very artistic people. Although a bit stubborn but your energy is so light and swift. Has a thing for old castles architecture and artifacts. You have a critical mind and constantly question everything around you, you're a truth lover and are determined to reveal it, you like to invest in yourself so you prefer spending most of your time isolated doing that, you're a giver, but very protective of your energy as you are sensitive to energies around you. I'm getting strong aries and earth signs. Some of you guys like to draw, and are very talented at it, something to do with animation, also making clay sculptures, you like to channel your artistic energy through painting or making beautiful art, that's precious 🥰. You could be the last child in your family, or the only child. Number 7 is significant. You're very talented with your hands. You're someone that doesn't like injustice and is very quick to intervene and stop it but not in a very offensive way. Wonderful sense of style, big beautiful eyes 🤩.

2

Many obstacles have been going on in your life lately, you have endured many challenges and have been going through some transformations. Aside from that I'm getting that you're very playful, carefree -pisces-you have an authoritarian presence, you have the ability to quickly grow free from the shackles, transform, and heal, you're a born healer, you're also very good at giving advices. Not anyone can crack up our code And get to know you easily, fire signs, you have an intense temperament, you prefer to observe from a distance, you fixate your interest in the things you choose to associate yourself with and stick with them. intense DNA and family heritage, curly hair.

3.

Easy going people that don't like to brag much and are humble, you have very little connection to the material world and are interested in occult sciences, introspective, and probably like to work with mantras a lot, to help maintaining a balanced energy flow. You're an animal lover ,especially sea creatures and large animals, strong Sagittarius energy, likes flowy type of clothing, can read people's energy easily, youthful in appearance, don't like to surround yourself with many people and is self reliant both in thought and action.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 10

part 1 | part 9 | ao3

cw: recreational drinking

When they get to Eddie’s trailer, Steve’s mom is sitting on the couch, eyes unblinking as she watches the TV.

There’s just static on the screen.

“Steve?” she slurs when she finally realizes they’re there. Sways a little when she stands. There’s a dreamy quality to her voice, a blank look on her tired face: agreeable but distant, a smudge of campfire smoke curling far over the trees.

Double-dosed her pills again. Jesus Christ.

“Oh, Stevie, baby, it was just awful.” She reaches out for him, and he wishes he could find comfort in the way she cups his elbows with delicate hands. Wishes he could lean into her touch and offer comfort in return, but her tone is so dull and mild that bile rises in his throat. Chemical calm bullshit, and Steve has had enough.

“Ma, just…” he sighs, shrugging her off. Scrubs a hand over his face. Too young and too old for this. “Just go home, okay?” The street is quiet again, all the neighbors tucked back in their houses now that the show has run its course. He doesn’t think anyone will notice her stumbling across the road. “Get some rest. I’ll be over in a bit.”

“Sure, baby.” He leads her to the door, and she turns there on the threshold, eyes glassy and unfocused; looks through him like he’s a ghost. Then her gaze shifts around the room — the hats, the mugs, the clutter; the lived-in explosion of color that Steve’s annoyed he likes so much — like she’s just seeing it all for the first time, and absently, she murmurs, “This place is dreadful, isn’t it?”

“Mom.”

“Hmm?” she asks, but she’s already drifting out the door.

Steve’s face is on fire. He stands there for a moment, just staring dumbly out into the dark. What the hell is wrong with her??

Behind him, Eddie snorts. "Oh, she’s on the good shit, huh?”

Steve whips his head around. Eddie’s eyes are full of mirth, his dimple peeking out, and it startles a laugh out of Steve. He thinks maybe he’d take offense if he weren't so busy being mortified.

But also, like.

It is a little funny.

Or maybe it’s so unfunny that it circles back around.

“Jesus, man,” he huffs, “Sorry. I don’t— I don’t know why she…”

“S’fine,” Eddie says with a casual flick of his wrist. Seems like he means it. He rocks back on his heels, hands in his back pockets, just sort of eyeing Steve up. Assessing. Running his tongue over his lips. They're big, for a guy's. “…You want a beer?”

“Fuck.” That sounds so nice. “Yeah. Please.”

“Have a seat.”

Steve takes the offer when Eddie nods at the couch, too tired to do the whole song and dance of ‘oh heavens no, I couldn’t possibly impose.’ Who’s got the energy for that?

The couch is old. His skull thuds against the un-cushioned back when he sinks down into it, but he’s too tired to care. Worn out as the lumpy springs under his ass, the frayed fabric beneath his arm. A wave of exhaustion rattles his bones, reverberates in his teeth. He thinks he could sleep for sixteen years.

Eddie clears his throat when he comes back with the beers, a sudden cautiousness about him as he hands Steve an unopened can like Steve might claw him in return.

"Sit down," Steve rolls his eyes. "I'm not gonna bite."

Eddie makes a strangled noise. The springs bounce as he plops onto the seat beside Steve, sitting sideways with one leg up on the couch between them, his arm resting on the back. "So, ah...." He gives a wavering chuckle; pulls a lock of hair across his face to hide himself. "Is this the part where I formally apologize for trying to knife you?"

Ugh. No the fuck it isn't. Steve’s too drained for it, absolutely at capacity for more serious shit this evening, thanks; and besides that, it was...

Whatever. It's old news.

Instead of giving a real answer he reaches into his pocket, snicks his own knife open and pretends to brandish it at Eddie, asking, "Eye for an eye?"

Eddie's eyes go huge. "Dude, what the fuck??"

"Just fucking with you," Steve laughs, lifting the can up to his mouth. "But there; now we're even. Shoulda seen your face."

“Ah—!” Eddie’s jaw drops in offense. “Ex-cuse you!”

God, of course he’s more dramatic than all the kids combined.

Steve jabs the knife into his beer, pops the top and starts to chug, throat working as he gulps the whole thing down in four big sips. It tastes like frothy, bitter piss, but it's cold and it soothes the scratch in his throat.

Eddie lets out a low whistle. "Well, goddamn, Harrington."

"Is that supposed to impress me?" "You're not?"

Steve grins and wipes his mouth.

—

They get drunk pretty fast (Eddie refused to be upstaged in his own house, so one shot-gunned beer became two became four), and somewhere along the line the conversations get weird; hilarious and dumb. Saying shit just to say it, chipping away at the ice wall between them with bare fingernails.

Eddie hollers some shit like: "What are you even talking about?" and his arms fling out wide, almost spilling his beer. "The deep sea is so much scarier than the mountains!"

"Are you joking?" Steve throws back. "The mountains have, like, giant cats and shit! Birds of prey with wingspans the size of your van."

"Yeah, and the deep sea has eldritch monsters that live in volcano vents and hunt with no eyes and eat their young for fun or whatever the fuck. You ever heard of an anglerfish? Or a phantom anglerfish? Tell me that shit isn't right out of a Lovecraft story."

"A what story?"

"How am I the one who hasn’t graduated yet?"

Then later:

“Dude, Batman? Seriously?”

“He’s the world’s greatest detective!”

“He’s a greasy little weirdo. You only like him because of your whole…” Steve gestures at his tattoos.

“Whatever, Spiderfan.”

And later still:

"Okay, okay, okay. Fuck, marry, kill... Shit. Y’know this would really be easier in a town where so many people hadn’t died."

Steve grimaces at himself; expects Eddie to call him out. It’s too insensitive, too soon.

Eddie just cracks a grin and suggests, "Fuck, marry, revive?"

—

They talk for a long time. Eddie's kind of charming when he's not being a dick. A nice smile, deep laugh lines. Steve can almost see why the kids are so obsessed with him. He's never met someone so animated; feels like he's talking to a Saturday morning cartoon. The conversation mellows out after a while, and he doesn't realize he's dozed off until Eddie shakes him awake.

"Hey, man," he says, voice just above a whisper. "I'm going to bed. You're welcome to crash on the couch, but, uh,” he scratches the back of his neck, “I mean, your back is probably gonna hate you for it."

Steve rubs his fists against his eyelids and blinks himself awake. Feels jittery and weird, yanked out of the start of a bad dream. When he looks up he sees that he’s got his shoes up on the couch; and there’s dried drool on his chin, and all at once he feels embarrassed, off-balance and panicked like he missed the last step down a steep flight of stairs. Of course he's overstayed his welcome. He's being fucking rude. "My bad," he mutters as he jumps up off the couch. Stands up way too fast, makes his vision tilt and swirl. "I'll get out of your hair."

Eddie reaches for his arm. "Dude,” he says, “you're fine. You can stay if you want.”

Steve moves out of his hold. “Nah, get some sleep; I’ll see ya around.”

Eddie frowns at him, a little furrow between his brows, and somehow Steve feels like he’s in the wrong, like Eddie isn’t the one who just kicked him out.

Like maybe Steve’s just running away for a second time in one night. Always back and away, this guy.

Who's the fucking coward now?

—

part 11

y'all know the drill, tagging whoever commented on yesterday's installment provided your tumblr settings let me <;3 @thealwithnoname @violetsteve @manda-panda-monium @stuftzombie @bronwenmarie @aliea82 @slowandsteddie @acedorerryn @anne-bennett-cosplayer @ahsokatanoss @steveshairspray @hallucinatedjosten @estrellami-1 @ppunkpuppyy @stevesbipanic @silver-snaffles @yourmom-isgay @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @zombiecreatures @im-a-disgrace-to-humanity @faery-god @hotluncheddie @runninriot @a-little-unsteddie @teatimeeverybody @newtstabber @pearynice @hellion-child @cuips-not-cute @steddieas-shegoes @steves-strapcollection @loguine-linguine @griefabyss69

[sodamnradd]

“Don’t look,” murmured Theo, twirling a lock of Hermione’s hair around his finger. “But I think he’s jealous.”

“Who?” she whispered, desperately wanting to peek.

“Draco,” he said, caressing her cheek to keep her from checking. “He hasn’t stopped staring at you.”

“In sheer disgust? Draco despises me.”

At work yesterday, he’d insulted her penmanship. Again. Visiting her office for the third day in a row with her memo torn up in scraps, claiming her ‘barbaric handwriting’ was illegible.

“I don’t think so,” he said, leaning in close to make it seem like he was whispering sweet nothings into her ear. She plastered on a dreamy smile and looked up at him through mascara-coated lashes. “It’s a ruse, you know. Him and Astoria. They’re planning a public break up in a week or two. She’s secretly dating a Quidditch player—a half-blood.”

“The horror,” she replied with a feigned gasp. “Is that all you Slytherins do? Scheme and show off?”

“And fall in love with the wrong people,” he replied with a faraway look in his eyes, straightening when a shadow loomed over them. “Alright, mate?”

Malfoy stood at their table, tall and cross. “May I have a word, Granger?”

Theo nudged her ankle under the table and gave her a knowing grin. She shook her head, refusing to buy into his nonsense. Malfoy was probably here to insult her hair or tell her that pink made her look frumpy.

Before she could tell Malfoy to leave them alone, Theo kissed her cheek and told her not to take too long.

She was left with no choice but to follow Malfoy into the rose garden, away from the gossiping crowd. “What is it?” she demanded, prepared for his regular bullshit.

“I saw something earlier that you should know about.” The grave look on his face sparked her interest. “Look. I know I give you a hard time at work now and again—but I’ve come to… to care…” He paused and tried again. “I mean… I think you deserve… not that I…”

“Malfoy,” she said sharply.

He expelled a long breath, then blurted out, “Theo and Potter are fooling around behind your back. I saw them inside earlier.”

She was floored. And then she felt an odd rush of affection for the stormy man standing before her. It had obviously taken a lot to suck up his pride and tell her that. What had he said? Something about caring?

“I’m sorry, Granger.” He hugged her, smushing her face against his warm chest. “Don’t cry. He was probably afraid he’d get caught by his father and used you as a cover up. People do lousy things when they’re desperate. Take it from someone who knows.”

“I’m not crying,” she mumbled, nudging him back. Her heart was racing. “I know about him and Harry. We were faking it so Theo’s father would ease off him. Apparently, dating a Muggle-born witch is slightly less offensive than being gay."

He opened his mouth, then shut it. His cheeks were turning red. It was oddly sweet how he had nothing to say.

“I hear you and Astoria are pulling a similar stunt,” she said in an attempt to make him feel better.

He shrugged; voice strangled. “Family dynamics are fucked out here.”

“Theo says it’s because you all fall in love with the wrong people.” She looked meaningfully into his eyes.

He stared back. “I wouldn’t say ‘wrong’, just...” His gaze was so intense, she felt trapped in it. “…inconvenient.”

“Is that what I am?” she breathed, wondering if Theo was right. Maybe Malfoy wasn’t looking for ways to get under her skin just to be a prick. Maybe he was looking for excuses to get closer to her. “An inconvenience?”

He didn’t verbally respond, but she felt his gaze all over her. The heat emanating off him made her sweat.

She swallowed, overwhelmed. “How long until you and Astoria call it off?”

He tilted his head. “We’re waiting until the Ministry Gala.”

“Maybe Theo and I will split around that time, too,” she suggested, mentally counting down the days and hoping she wasn’t misreading the situation.

His eyelids grew heavy. He licked his lips.

She felt a little drunk with the way he was looking at her.

“Maybe,” she said, stepping closer to fix his tie. He shivered beneath her touch. “You can send me an office memo. Since my handwriting is so offensive.” She tipped her head back, whispering into his ear, “Thank you for telling me about what you saw.”

Hermione left him there speechless, smiling softly to herself as she walked away.

-

Twelve days later, an office memo nose-dived on her desk. She recognized Malfoy’s pristine handwriting, and considered if maybe hers was a bit messy in comparison.

Dinner tonight in Diagon Alley?

The pink memo bloomed into a rose. She lifted it to her nose, enchanted that it smelled like a real one. But more touched that he wanted to take her out publicly.

Pick me up at 7, she wrote, and let the office memo fly.

(847 words, prompt: fake dating for dramione month)

[yayll]

~ a little something about Dazai and his tantrums ~

"... Hmph. I hope you crash this car and we both die."

The moody brunet mutters under his breath as he looks out of the car window, his arms crossed over his chest, refusing to look at you. He was awfully cute whenever he did this, and oh so vexing at the same time. You learned to acclimate to this very early into your relationship with him.

"What? All I said was that I was going to be driving us, Osamu!"

Your laugh is light hearted as you focus on the road ahead, dismissing his whiny behavior for another one of his... Melodramatic performances, his co-workers once called it. He finally turns to glare at you, but a wicked glint in his narrowed eyes betrays him... You can tell he's more unserious than anything. Playful, even. And besides, he would never actually be upset with you, he just can't stop thinking up schemes to make you roll your eyes at him. Your smile alone makes his thoughts impure, shame on you!

"Yeah, well... I feel dehumanized! overlooked! neglected..." He feigns offense, sighing heavily as he slouches into the passenger seat. He places a bandaged arm over his face, groaning softly but still side eyeing you to check if you're looking at him or not.

"You do that all on your own, silly."

"Excuse me? I'm expressing my grievances and you're calling me silly? Oh, so that's what this is really about. You don't love me anymore! What a cruel beauty you are..."

He gasps, now burying his face into the crook of his elbow, pretending to weep as he mumbles incoherent nonsense about how much you mistreat him. In actuality, he was giddy as hell. You park the car, and turn to face him, a coy smile flashes on your lips.

"Nobody said anything about not loving you. Now, what can I do to fix this, Mm?"

He lifts his head up, suddenly composed and shrugging his shoulders as if nothing ever happened, speaking in a matter of fact voice that somehow deepened.

"Well, definitely don't let me drive. I don't even have a license. I'd kill us in an instant."

"... Then why argue about it?!"

"Because you look so beautiful when you're yelling at me. And you make me feel alive. Anddd, because I'm bored~"

He flashes you a cheeky grin, it's dreamy and sickening. His eyes twinkle with mischief as he leans over the seat and flicks away a stray hair from your face. Dazai then taps the tip of your nose, slowly dragging his finger down to your plush bottom lip, gently flipping it over to expose your teeth. The pad of his finger gently swirls against your canines, and finally, retreats... He knows there's a time and place for his worship prodding. His eyes travel back up to yours, and you can swear they look darker than usual. If only the Port Mafia could see what became of the Demon Prodigy... A new man reborn! A man who loves!

The rest of the day is spent with you indulging Dazai, something along the lines of 'reparations' is what he calls it. Only he knows how much it means to him that you can handle him during his calculated outbursts... or rather harmless tests to prove you won't leave him at the first sign of trouble. He needs you to be in it for the longhaul, just like he is. It's deceptive, but no one has to know! He just loves you and these are simply counter measures. You'd probably call him selfish, but as long as you call him at all, he doesn't give a shit. Because in the grand scheme of things, he really can't drive, and you two are inevitably endgame.

You're the ball, and he's your chain.

[dyingswanpavlova]

My secret obsession - Pt. 1 || 》 Aemond Targaryen 《

pairing: Aemond Targaryen, sister!reader

warnings: incest between siblings (implied)

summary: Aemond's younger sister is secretly in love with him.

The thing that hurt me the most was probably that he did not belong to me. A constant reminder of the painful truth that broke my heart every day all over again.

All I could do was silently observe from the sidelines.

His face was the most beautiful piece of art and it was engraved so deep in my memory, that I would see it whenever I closed my eyes.

His voice was...silk. Honey. Sweetness.

But at the same time he was so manly.

The was no man in the whole realm who could keep up with him. His abilities were beyond compare and so was everything else about him. Many people feared him because he had the biggest dragon. Others loathed him for his ability to be resentful for...well, forever.

I did not.

In my eyes, he was perfect. He was everything.

"Did you hear what I said, sister?"

My head snapped up and I stared at Aegon in confusion.

"What?" I muttered absentmindedly.

He groaned in annoyance.

"You have not been paying attention again." He said so slowly that it was almost offensive. I shook my head and shrugged.

"Forgive me. I was distracted. What did you say?"

Aegon shot me a suspicious look and I immediately knew I was in for a questioning. I suppressed the urge to sigh. Or flee.

"You have been distracted quite a lot lately." He said thoughtfully. "What are you so dreamy about?"

I rolled my eyes. "People tend to think, Aegon, even if you do not."

Aemond was currently swinging his sword at Criston Cole. It did not take him longer than two minutes to defeat him. Again.

I let my gaze wander along the training yard. Despite Aegon's rather weak attempts at perceptiveness, there were some things he was good at reading.

I was one of them.

I did not need to look at him to see the lazy smirk that slowly plastered across his face.

"Thinking, hm? And what is it you are so thinky about?" He raised a brow and ruffled my hair.

I rolled my eyes again and gave him a quick shove.

"None of your business."

His smirk widened and he brought his face down so he could whisper in my ear.

"I think I know the answer. And I think it indeed is part of my business, considering our kinship."

"Aegon, do not dare-"

"Do you think I am blind, sweet sister? I see the way you look at him."

My face flushed so hard it was bordering on painful.

"You know noth-"

"In fact." He interrupted me, feigning thoughtfulness. "I think everyone knows it."

"Aegon, shut up!"

He laughed and raised his hands in mock surrender.

"Aw, come on. I am your big brother after all. Who is going to tease you if not me?"

I kept my gaze glued to the ground firmly. Suddenly I felt extremely uneasy. Nauseous even.

Aegon seemed to notice my discomfort and his eyes softened. He tipped my chin up with his index finger. I tried to look away but he made me look up anyway.

"It is more than mere infatuation, is it not?" He asked softly.

I looked down and remained silent. Infatuation. What a ridiculous word. No, I was not infatuated with Aemond. I was starstruck, I was obsessed, I was insane.

I swallowed thickly and nodded, unable to meet his gaze. The pavement was suddenly very interesting.

"Does he know?"

My head snapped up and my eyes widened in horror.

"No! No, Aegon, you cannot-"

He placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it.

"Calm down. I will not tell him."

I took a shaky breath and nodded. "Thank you." I muttered.

Aegon shrugged and returned his gaze to Aemond, who was currently busy tackling Ser Criston to the ground. That drew a smirk from Aegon. Aemond was better than him.

Aemond was better than anyone.

"You should tell him." He said suddenly.

"No." I said firmly and without hesitation.

Aegon snorted and shook his head. "Are you so sure that he does not feel the same for you?"

I swallowed and shook my head. "Even if he did. It is futile. Mother did not betroth us. She betrothed you and Helaena years ago. If she wanted me to marry Aemond-"

"She only betrothed us, because she holds on to the ridiculous thought that I will be king one day." Aegon said calmly. "Aemond needs a wife. And you most certainly need a husband."

I frowned and shot him a glare.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It simply means that nothing goes against you and Aemond together."

Was it really that simple? But then again...

Aemond was currently helping Criston back up, before he shot a nonchalant look at Luke. The tension was thick, but he would not act on it. Not yet. Aemond was not one to act recklessly. But he was one for retaliation.

Everything in the right time.

"He does not love me." I said quietly.

"How do you know?"

"He never...showed..."

"And did you?" Aegon raised a teasing brow.

I shot him a helpless look. "That's different."

"Oh, yeah? And why?"

I knew no answer to that. But a part of me was so mortified to find out the truth, that I preferred dying without ever finding out.

"You are not even in love with him. You are obsessed."

I gasped in shock.

"What?" I said in a choked whisper.

He nodded. "I can see it in your eyes. You would die for him."

"I would die for you, too, idiot. Or for Helaena. We are family."

Aegon let out a mirthless chuckle and crossed his arms infront of his chest. I hated it when he got smartassy like that.

"That is not what I mean and you know it."

"Aegon, shut your-"

"Sister. Brother."

I froze and swallowed before I looked up and met Aemond's intense gaze.

"You defeated Ser Criston." I said in a breathless voice. Aegon snorted. I would have gladly pushed him off a cliff, was there a cliff anywhere nearby.

Aemond nodded once.

"He taught me well." Was all he had to say.

We stood there in an awkward silence, before he cleared his throat.

"I shall go and get myself ready for dinner." He finally said and shot me a soft look. "Shall I take you to your chambers on my way?"

I was already about to respond, when Aegon pushed me and I crashed into Aemond's steel hard chest. He immediately wrapped his arms around me to steady me and looked at our older brother with increduloucy.

"You better, brother. I was just about to try my luck with Criston." Aegon said innocently. I glared at him before he vanished further into the training yard.

Aemond's hand lingered for a moment longer on my back and I tried not to look too affected.

"Are you alright?" He asked in that sweet voice. I forced a smile and nodded.

"Aegon was just being an idiot. As per usual." I muttered as he started walking me back towards my chambers.

"What did you talk about? You seemed agitated."

You seemed agitated.

He had paid attention? While engaging in a sword fight with our most skilled knight?

"He was merely being his annoying self. Nothing in particular." I muttered.

He was silent for a while. He had his hand on the small of my back while we walked. I tried my hardest to keep a straight back and appear like the effortlessly perfect princess I was supposed to be. As effortlessly perfect as he was. But for some reason it just got harder and harder for me.

"You were really good. The way you feinted to attack him, but then spun around and made him fall was splendid. The look on his face was priceless. He told me how proud he is of you the other day."

Aemond raised a brow in surprise. "You saw that?"

I tried my best not to blush as I nodded.

"You know that I have been watching you train for years." I smirked and added: "I have been watching Aegon as well, but after a while it got boring to watch Criston constantly beat him. It was like watching the same fight over and over again."

Aemond let out a rare chuckle.

"I get your point."

After a moment, he added: "Did you read the book I gave you?"

"The philosophy one?"

He nodded. I nodded as well.

"I did not know being would be considered such a fragile thing. But considering how quickly life finds its end, it should not have surprised me so much."

He smiled. It was subtle. It was breathtakingly beautiful.

"It is indeed. The metaphor with the flower reminded me of you."

"Me?" I spun around in surprise. "Why?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "You, too, seem to need other people around you to some degree, but you prefer the solitude of your own mind. Soliture and tranquility." After a moment, he said in a softer voice: "I am like that."

I looked at him thoughtfully.

"That could be applied to many people though."

He smirked softly. "Also, it reminded me of that book you read when you were younger."

"Ah, yes. The secret flower language." I smiled. "You remember that?"

"Mhm." He hummed softly. "Of course. You spent hours and hours explaining each flower to me and what they meant."

I bit my lip and shook my head. "Forgive me for the inconvenience."

His head spun around so quickly that he looked very unlike himself. "What are you apologizing for?"

"I thought...Well, I thought..."

"I was fascinated. Not annoyed." He said quietly. I blinked slowly, then my lips twitched into a soft smile.

"Oh."

He shook his head and smiled as well. A moment later we reached my chamber door. I looked up at him only to realize he was staring at me.

After a long moment, I said: "What?"

"You look pretty."

Without hesitation, I blushed furiously. And of course, instead of being a gentleman and ignoring it, he had to smirk knowingly.

"Can you not even handle a little compliment without blushing?"

I rolled my eyes, but I smiled, still blushing.

"Not from you." When I realized how that sounded, I quickly added: "You are my brother after all, how genuine can your compliment be then?"

He shook his head and sighed.

"I will see you at dinner." He said, reached out his hand and gently touched my cheek. Seemingly nonchalant and trivial, but my heart was pounding wildly in my chest. Every touch of his felt like the short, delicate moment of being ice, seconds away from melting. And then you are no longer ice, but water. Bland and sad.

The moment he withdrew his hand, I was exactly that.

Bland and sad.

"I will see you at dinner." I repeated in a soft whisper.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just Friends: Get Ready

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

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Summary: Bucky sleeps over.

It’s giving

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You shimmy and sway before the mirror behind the polka dot skirt. It’s cute but is it date cute. Does it matter? It’s not really a date, not for you. You’re just there for moral support. Geez, isn’t Bucky a soldier? You think he could face a gorgeous sophisticated woman like Charlize. 

You don’t get how he doesn’t see how perfect they are for each other. She’s older and confident and so beautiful. And smart to boot. And he’s handsome and built and somewhat famous. They are the power couple for the ages. Quite literally with Bucky aging into his second century. 

It should be fun anyway. Dinner out can be a bit overwhelming but it isn’t so bad with friends. Heck, you’re sure they will be too busy gabbing and ditch you and your date quickly. At least, that’s what you’re hoping for. 

Your apartment buzzer goes off and makes you jump. You blanch at your reflection and pull the skirt on. You were never going to decide so you’ll just go with it. You swipe up the blouse with the eyelet collar and swoop it over your head. You leave it untucked as you slam the button to quiet the offensive noise. 

“Hey!” You call into the speaker. 

“Dreamy,” Bucky sounds angry as he growls through the crackling line. 

“What are you doing here? You should be getting ready.” 

“I am,” he snips. 

“Oh, right, well, come on up, I guess.” 

He huffs right before you let the button go. He’s been grouchy lately. You asked him if it was work. He shook his head and kept reading. You tried to keep guessing and he just groaned and told you nothing’s wrong. So, you let him mope. 

It doesn’t take him long to get to your floor. He pounds on the floor and you let him in. He doesn’t look ready. You squint and step back to look him up and down. 

“Bucky,” you reproach. 

“What? I got a tie,” he pulls his leather jacket open. “It’s just a bit... stubborn.” 

“Oh, gosh,” you tug on the crooked tie, “here.” 

He stoops to let you even out the tails and you pat it as you peer up at his floppy hair. His beard is getting long too. The tufts jut out at his chin like horns. 

“Come here,” you sneer and grab his wrist. 

He lets you drag him across the apartment and into the bathroom. You flip down the lid of the toilet and point him to it. You take your brush and sigh, shaking your head as you tut. You brush back his dark hair, strands of silver sparkling in the light. 

“You’re a mess.” 

“I tried.” 

“Sure,” you try to tame the flopping locks, “one second.” You grab your extra hold spray and press his hair back as you block his face from the aerosol blast. He shifts and you tap his boot with your toe. “Sit still.” 

“Mm, that smells good,” he stops fidgeting. 

“Coconut. It’s my favourite. And it’s expensive, so thank me for wasting it on you,” you put the bottle down and comb through his hair to give it a less stiff look. His eyes flick up and meet yours as your fingertips graze his scalp. 

“Ugh, you ever thought of getting into massage?” He chirps. 

“Har har,” you say dryly, “Bucky, what are you doing here? I told you to meet me at the restaurant.”  

You take a small comb and tidy his beard as he scrunches his nose. You finish and rinse your hands in the sink. You look at yourself. You’re still not ready. 

“Yeah, well... I couldn’t get my hair to behave.” 

“We’ll see if it holds.” You sniff. 

You tuck the blouse into your skirt and turn to him. He stares at you. You examine his collar and his slacks. They’re nice but the shirt is wrinkled. 

“Bucky, did you at least iron that?” 

“It’s new?” He shrugs. 

“It’s all covered in lines,” you cross your arms. “Take it off.” 

“What? I think the place requires shirts--” 

“Don’t be silly.” 

“Wow, if I had to guess, I’d say you’re nervous about our little date,” he stands and loosens the tie you just fixed. 

“I just... want it to be perfect. I want you to have a good time.” 

“I always have a good time with you, Dreamy,” he unbuttons his shirt. 

“Right, well, you should be worried about Charlize,” you stomp out of the bathroom and unfold the board behind the door. You plug in the iron as he comes close and tosses his shirt over it. He wears a ribbed tank beneath. “She’s so awesome. Aren’t you excited?” 

“Eh, sure,” he says noncommittally. “And what about you? You find someone?” 

“Yep, all’s sorted out. All my hard work,” you wave your hand in front of the iron as it warms, impatient for it to heat up.  

Finding a date hadn’t been as easy as you assumed. You thought when you offered free dinner, anyone would just come along for the meal. That was very much not the case but you found a workaround. 

“Don’t do that. You’re going to burn yourself,” he chides. 

“Mm, and you can blame yourself for not pressing your clothes,” you shake your head. 

“Oh, dreamy, I love it when you’re mad. It’s so cute.” 

“No teasing,” you snip, “try to be charming.” 

“What? I’m charming,” he blusters. 

You look at him, “sure.” 

He scoffs, “alright, Mrs. Polka Dot skirt.” 

“What? It’s cute.” 

“It’s not exactly date material,” he snickers. 

“Ugh, fine, you,” you point at him, “deal with your shirt and I’ll find a date outfit. Ugh.” 

You sweep around the board and stride into the bedroom. You swing the door carelessly behind you and make your way to the closet. A dress would be better, you guess. If it shuts him up, then you’ll happily wear one. Ah, that one’s cute! You forgot about it. 

You go to the bed and strip off the skirt and blouse. You stagger around before you manage to step into the peridot dress. The bows on the straps are too much. You look in the mirror and do a little dance. It fits, but it is short. 

You glance over and hesitate. The door is still slightly ajar. You flit over and as you come out, Bucky clears his throat. He puts his head down and focuses on ironing his sleeve. 

He peeks over at you and his brows furrow, “better?” You ask. 

“Uh, I guess. Green is a choice,” he smirks. 

“Okay, Calvin Klein, well, I will have to get you to help me with my closet later.” 

He chuckles and goes back to pressing the iron to the fabric. You go to the bathroom, conscious of him as you check yourself in the mirror. It feels like he’s watching you but it’s probably just that the place is so small. 

“I won’t be long, I don’t want to be late,” you assure him. 

[tarotwithavi]

How will your future spouse act in front of you vs in front of others

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Piles : 1-2-3

How to choose a pile?

Take a deep breath and close your eyes. Kindly ask your spirit guides to show you the right pile for yourself and then open your eyes. Whichever pile catches your attention is the right pile for you.

Masterlist

Paid readings

I'm taking donations as I'm not a good place financially and in need of help. Please help if you can.

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Pile 1

In front of you

Your future spouse is going to act very dreamy in front of you . I'm also getting that they are going to be very needy for your attention. I am also getting that when your future will be around you they will want all your attention to be on them to the point that it is almost greedy. Another thing I pick up on is that they will be very possessive over you and they will not want you to look at other men and they won't look at other women either. They are going to be in their feminine energy around you and they will not say they care for you but  they are going to flirt with you all the time. I am also getting that they are going to be very loving towards you and even when they are around others they will always think of you. They are going to act very energetic around you and I am getting that they are not very energetic around other people but with you it will be like they are fully charged.

In front of others

Your future spouse is going to act very calm and collected in front of other people. I am also getting that they will act as if they Don't Really Care what's going on around them, in fact even when they are around others they will only think of you. Your future spouse is a very emotional person in general but in front of other people they don't show their side. They act very cold and reserved around other people so that people don't approach them because I'm getting that they might have some difficulty talking to new people or they just don't know which words to use. They are great friend and other people might see them as someone who has a lot of wisdom. They might use their phone a lot around other people or they always have headphones on.

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Pile 2

In front of you

Alright so the first message I'm picking upon is that your future spouse will not know how to act in front of you because I see that they might get very nervous around you in the initial stages but after some time they are going to be very chill around you. I'm also getting that they are going to act very lovely in front of you. They are going to be very in love with you. They are going to be their true self with you. They might tell you all their secrets and they are very secretive. You're going to feel very happy once they start opening up to you. Like I said earlier they might get very nervous around you but after sometime they are going to feel very confident around you. Your future spouse is a very confident person but around you they're going to feel more confident in their real self and not the person they have created for others. They are going to act very passionate around you. You are going to love every moment you will spend with them.

In front of others

I'm getting that your future spouse is not the kind of person people like to talk to because they are very cut-throat and might use some words that are very offensive. I amfirst getting that your future spouse may have had some really traumatic experiences with people. Your future spouse may not like to interact with people but when they do they are very confident like I said they have created a version of themselves for others that is very confident and authoritative. They really don't let people get close to them, however they are also very nice to people, especially children. Your future spouse may be Pluto dominant. Your spouse is very nice to older people and children but I can't say that for people who are around their age. People don't really approach them.

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Pile 3

In front of you

Your future spouse is going to act very childish in front of you because I see that they will not hesitate to do childish things with you. Your future spouse is going to help you in your work and they are a very helpful person. They are also going to be very creative around you, like they are going to show their love in the most creative way you've ever seen. I'm also getting that they are going to be very generous around you and they won't hesitate to spend their money on you. Your future spouse is going to act very balanced around you because I see that they are going to maintain their maturity and their playfulness around you so that you won't get annoyed by them. And they are going to be very patient around you. They will need your love but they won't act very needy all the time. They will give you your personal space when you need it and they will respect your boundaries a lot. They will care a lot for you but won't make it annoying as I'm getting that you guys don't like clingy people.

In front of others

I am getting that your future spouse is a very misunderstood person . They are really misunderstood by society and the people around them. so they don't really open up to people because they fear that people are going to judge them. I am also getting that others might see them as someone who keeps a lot of Secrets or someone who doesn't isn't a people person. However when your future spouse is with their friends they are the happiest because when they are with their friends there with the people who really understand them so they feel at ease around their friends. They act very friendly around others but somehow they still get misunderstood by people. They act very inspiring around others and always help people understand themselves.

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[erideights]

Little pieces here and there (5)

Pairing: Buggy x Fem!Reader (One Piece Live Action)

Chapters: one, two, three, four

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: light flirting, light metion of sex, a lot of feelings, super fluff (in their particular way)

A/N: I'M BACK WITH THE NEW AND LAST (????) CHAPTER OF THE SERIES AFTER AN HIATUS WEEK. I wanted to post something good, something beautiful, true to the characters and the story you all enjoyed reading as much as i writing! (sorry for the possible grammatical mistakes!)

Side note: this chapter is to be read with different time frames, so changing the lights of the room and their resting positions in bed!

"Say it."

"Nope."

"Why not!?" he whines, his beautiful dove eyes pleading. "C'mon baby. Say it. I deserve it. All the awards. All the honors." The fact he’s beneath her, trapped between her body and the mattress, doesn't help make him look less submissive. She has to admit, it’s extremely pleasant to see how his dignified ass drags himself for her.

"But it would be a lie," she says, sticking out her tongue in a gesture intended to make him suffer a little more. Unbelievable that this is the same man who forced her to beg for sex a couple of hours ago. "and I’m no liar."

''Didn't seem like a lie to me when you were moaning my name and cumming on my cock for the third time some minutes ago.'' Ah, there it is, his ego is back again. Or at least, a glimpse of it. Took a while to appear. 

In front of him, (Y/N) just smiles devilishly, which makes Buggy growl and look at her with pleading eyes again. "Look, we already established I know and even like how you need to play difficult, it's part of your charisma, but I need to hear it, okay? I will give you anything your wayward, fussy heart could desire. Consider it a prize."

''Anything?''

''Anything.''

Hmm. She plays along, and pretends to think about it for long, torturous seconds, shaking her head from side to side in slowmo, taking a deep breath. 

As expected, soon enough she decides to give in-- she’s satisfied after making him beg in her own particular way.

''Fine.'' She takes a breath and starts her dramatic performance, with one hand on her own chest, eyes closed. ''Oh, Buggy, you were right, you are the best lover I’ve ever had, thanks to you my soul has ascended and I have seen the One Piece.''

That is not the praise he was expecting about his sexual skills. Not even close. But was so /him/, so dramatic, exaggerated, and incredibly hilarious, that despite faking offense on his face, eyes half-closed, lips pressed together, fingers pinching her hips as punishment, he has to admit -he will not-, was funny.

''You're a moron'' That’s about everything he has to say on the matter.

‘’Like Ol’Axe-Hand?’’ She asks, raising an eyebrow, hoping he gets it. And of course he does. He's so surprised that he widens his eyes, smirking. Is she actually admitting how incredibly funny he is? ''You still remember that joke?''

''Was so bad it stuck with me since then like a fucking nightmare.'' Hit and sunk.

''Ouch''

"Don't worry, there's still time to improve the quality of your jokes. But for now I'll take the prize you promised.''

''Ugh, fine. What do you want?’' Buggy thinks he knows (Y/N), so he’s convinced she will ask for something impossible. A challenge that will ridicule him or an astronomical sum of money. ''If what you want are berries I’m sorry to inform you, sunshine, I'm broke, I still have to find...'' but the clown shuts himself when he feels the girl's fingers slowly caressing his sharp jaw, finally pulling him by his chin towards her. He leans in too, eyes fixed on her lips, yearning for the kiss he can see so clearly written in the dreamy way she looks at him.

There’s no need to announce it, nor to start it with their usual flirting or provocations. It's slow and doesn't demand anything at all, nor is intended to be the trigger of their next round.

It's just a kiss. Something so simple and intrinsically complex at the same time. And in the same way as if it had been the most fiery and passionate of his life, as not long ago, this kiss leaves him breathless, unable to form a single coherent thought that has nothing to do with her.

Oh, he’s down bad. Just like she is.

              …

And there they are on the mattress, she’s sitting on his lap, legs around him, his hands on her hips, hers on his abdomen in a relaxed pose. The scene is typical of two lovers who have known each other for a lifetime -or at least for years- and not of two people who just had the wildest sex of their lives less than a couple hours ago. For the first time. 

They tell each other anecdotes, surreal stories, and laugh together inside that little bubble they don't even know how it was created, where it came from, or how the hell it could have absorbed them so much, making them completely ignore the outside world.

"What do you mean a giant bird!?" she screams in laughter, her stomach hurting, her lungs burning. "Aha, yeah, laugh all you want but imagine thinking that you’re about to die turned into damn bird feed. It would fucking piss me off."

As it can’t be otherwise, (Y/N) ends up laughing until she cries with the story of how Buggy arrived at Loguetown, and the clown finds himself exaggerating his story more and more with each laugh he manages to get from the girl, eager to hear it again, knowing he’s the only cause of this beautiful melody.

It’s absurd how he would love -kill- to know more about her, ‘cause if he stops to think about it, he doesn't know this woman at all. He knows nothing beyond her name, her crew, and the fact that she has a bold sense of humor. She’s brave and sarcastic, keen, sharp, and much more intelligent and savvy than -in his opinion- all the idiots around her.

And this is how and when he realizes the post-nut clarity theory hasn't worked for him. Getting her out of his twisted mind will not be as easy as fucking her a couple times, get his needed ton of personal satisfaction from making her beg for him, and moving on to the next thing to do/achieve on his list.

Goddamnhim.

"Alright, as much as I love and enjoy being the main character, it's time for you to drop your femme fatale facade and show me who you truly are."

"Awh,’’ she smiles tenderly, reaching for one of his cheeks. ‘’you see me like a femme fatale? That's so cute."

"Cut the crap.’’ The clown slaps her hand away, not in a violent way, but offended. ‘’You're not easily intimidated and I noticed you're good with knives too. That's sexy, and it makes me curious as hell about what you did before you joined those shitty heads."

Fair enough, she would be curious too, so she thinks about it, a bit wary of talking about her private life because there is a part of her that prefers to keep it intact -in case she wants to come back to it-. However, she reasons, mentioning what she did without being very specific doesn’t reveal anything at all. It would piss her off if Buggy casually knows her mercenary name -by which she’s fairly known among marines and pirates alike- and connects some dots all of a sudden. 

Is he actually that smart?

"I was a mercenary." She says calmly, shrugging her shoulders. "With that angelic face?" He retorts in disbelief, raising both eyebrows, even though he knows it fits her personality just right. "You'd be surprised what you're capable of with it."

"No, no, I actually believe you." He cracks an amused smile, looking directly into her eyes after carefully scanning her face. ''I mean, If someone like you tried to sneak onto my ship I would know it’s a trap, either to kill me or to steal from me but I would end up saying ''whatever you say beautiful'' and would actually let you do your thing.''

He's an idiot but still, once again, he manages to make her laugh. “Looking like that, anyone would give you anything,” he adds because he is, in fact and undoubtedly, willing to give her a little more of himself. More time and more attention, because he should definitely be out there gathering his crew -only God knows what they'll be doing- and figuring out how to get to the Grand Line without a damn map.

The idea of asking her, or even suggesting she steals it for him, doesn't even cross his mind. Not even after having shared this /intimate/ afternoon together. He knows she won't do it, she doesn’t own him shit, she’s not one of these women who fall in love and suddenly do everything, and leave everything behind, for the man of their dreams.

And of course Buggy can see the way she looks at him, without an ounce of contempt or distaste for his extravagant appearance or the atrocities he's sure she knows he's committed and of which he's not one bit ashamed. She sees him as he is and still, she’s here, offering him back something as valuable as her time and company.

But she won't give him more, he is aware of that. That's why he didn't offer (Y/N) to run away with him when he escaped from Arlong Park, because as much as she enjoys his company and maybe, just maybe, the clown imagines, feels something for him, he has the impression she’s a disgustingly loyal person, to her principles and her people, and as much as she likes to flirt with him, she would have said no.

He must admit, that's also how he likes her. Strong, capable, independent. He would kill no matter who to have her by his side as part of his crew, although he knows it won't happen. He would settle, however, with the -hypothetical- opportunity to meet from time to time on the high seas or on any random island. To sneak away from their crews in secret, to disappear for a few hours in which all his attention, his entire being, could focus on her, lower the curtain just a little, leave the spotlight behind and relax.

There is a small part of him, the one that makes him unable to stop looking intensely at her with those blue eyes that mirrors his own soul, that truly hopes she feels the same.

…

''You know'' she starts, absently stroking his hair, the clown's head in her lap. ''I imagine-- no, I know the whole nose topic is a sensitive thing for you but honestly, it shouldn't-- big noses are incredibly attractive, and yours? Believe me, anyone would want to sit on it.’’

What.

He's so taken aback by the suddenness of the comment he completely forgets what they were talking about before and on top of that, he's unable to reply for some seconds, looking at her like she just started speaking in another, incomprehensible language.

He ends up raising an eyebrow, running his tongue over his red lips. ''Including you?''

''Including me''

''Well, sunshine, today's your lucky day then'' Sitting up, in a blink of her eyes he turns, catches the girl's hips and drags her with him, lying down, leaving her sitting on his chest while he rest his head on the pillow. Buggy winks at her, licking his lips again, this time cheekily rather than thoughtfully. “I’m about to make another one of your dreams come true.”

''Horny bastard.'' she whispers, swallowing saliva. What a view, having him between her legs again. ''Never denied, sweetheart'' with a low, erotic, and breathtaking laugh, he surrounds both her thighs with his arms and pulls her body up in a quick movement, causing a sudden brush of his nose against the inside of her thigh.

(Y/N) shudders and takes a deep breath, spreading her legs a little further as she settles them on the pillow. ''Show me what else you can do, captain.'' To that he just groans, already getting hard with just having her on top of his face and her way of talking to him, pushing his buttons just the right way.

In no time she’s a complete, total, and absolute mess, writhing with pleasure. Hands grabbing his hair, hips rocking over his mouth, forcing his nose to rub against her clitoris, she softly moans his name, an occasional insult or any other possible blasphemy.

''Oh, fuck-- Buggy.''

…

Worn off makeup all around her body, sun setting, long hours spent together in which they have told funny, long stories about each other's life and of course, in which they have ended up letting free -once again- that suffocating sexual tension that attracts them to the other like a month to a lamp. Buggy, surprisingly, ends up letting his guard down to the point where he falls asleep, and not long after, he starts snoring.

(Y/N) knows, it's time to leave and look for her friends. She also knows she warned them about her obsession with the city and that the chances of her getting lost were high, and in that case they should not worry about her, blablabla, because she would come back sooner or later. She didn’t even remotely expect the reason for her disappearance would be a self-declared enemy -Luffy’s enemy- of her crew, tho. Neither was she going to spend so much time away from them to be with him.

The excuses she will need to cover her tracks are endless, and a pain in the ass without even started to think about them yet.

Will Zoro still be lost somewhere on the island? Because she obviously assumed, he got lost as soon as they split.

Still in bed, she takes a moment to calmly look at him. (Y/N) is aware of how this may be the last time they ever see each other, and -not- surprisingly, this thought sparks a pang of sadness in her. She really likes him. She wouldn't say she is in love with him, because those are big words and they barely know each other yet, but... he was right, the chemistry between the two was something impossible to deny. And it hasn't weakened, nor disappeared a single bit after sex. Quite the opposite-- It has become something more, a kind of deep and sincere fondness that in this precise moment, dark outside, distant voices over the window from drunkards and bastards around the streets, his breathing calm for a fraction of second, his eyes closed and the fresh breeze that enters the room, invites her to caress his blue hair while he sleeps, sighing.

It’s been a long, long time since (Y/N)’d enjoyed this kind of genuine, absolute peace, sharing with someone she cares about, a room where time does not exist and life is just a thought instead of reality.

Part of her wishes or better said, acknowledges, she would stay here the entire night if she could. The other says that’s ridiculous, and that those are her hormones talking and nothing else. It would pass.

But does she want it to pass? To fade away?

Finally getting out of bed -all her willpower at once- after long minutes in which she simply memorizes every possible detail around her, she begins to retrieve her clothes scattered throughout the room and get dressed in silence, trying not to wake him up.

Through all this process, in the depths of her head resonates a single thought, ringing as loud and strong as an alarm. She’s unable to shut it up. She can’t ignore it either. It's another kind of thought she shouldn't have, and at the same time… feels so natural, so logical, she doesn't feel guilty for having it.

But should she listen to it? Should she follow it?

Taking a seat in the chair that fulfilled its great purpose a few hours ago, she sighs, again, head resting on her hand, elbow on the table. With a small smile, her eyes fall back on that ridiculous, snoring clown. And then, she just knows.

Reaching to a little secret pocket in her pants, she takes out a small piece of folded paper and starts to open it slowly, being careful to not tear it apart, leaving it on the table of the room once the copy of the map of the Grand Line can be perfectly seen. When (Y/N) suggested her crew make a couple of copies in case something happened to the original, she never thought she would use hers like this, but she doesn't regret it in the slightest.

Biting the tip of her tongue, her eyes scan the partially darkened room, jumping from side to side. When she finally finds what she was looking for, she leans over the table, and taking the pen from the inkwell, she writes in the upper right corner of the map "I will be waiting for you right here, come find me" .

If someone asked her why she does this, why she feels this, why does she decide to ignore her common sense and give something so important to someone as -objectively- miserable as him, she would simply answer that there are things… or better said-- not things, but the little pieces here and there, pieces of himself left in her during conversations, shared glances, laughter, flirts, light touches and the deep strong ones that came after those. It's the way he tried to make her laugh at all costs or how he didn't give up trying to win her over. Those blue eyes so intense she would swear, they reached her soul, or the small, genuine smile she knows she has seen this same afternoon, really far from the forced, crooked, exaggerated ones he usually has.

It is all of this and much more, and opening the door of the room, closing it again so that no one disturbs Buggy while she escapes the building and heads to her ship to find her crew, she knows she can't wait to see him again.

She knows she will. Her sixth sense tells her so.

[beatrixstonehill2]

"Hey, I'm going out for a pack of smokes, need anything?" Michelle asked her younger brother, Sean.

"Sure, I'm almost out. Do you need any money?"

She smacked her giant, octuplet-filled belly. "What? As if.... I'm just gonna find a few guys to fuck for cash, should be no problem with my belly this big."

"Of course.... why didn't I think of that?"

"You're so naive, little bro...." Michelle giggled, giving her belly another playful smack.

"You know, when mom and dad asked if you could live with me, since I had an apartment and you were couch surfing, I didn't quite imagine what that meant."

"I hope you aren't regretting our little arrangement. All the free sex you could ever want with your dreamy older sister?"

"No, definitely not! You know how much I've always fantasized about you..... I just had no clue you were, well...."

"A forever-pregnant whore?"

"Not the words I'd use, but yeah. When did you start prostituting? I thought you went away to college. I didn't want to ask the last few months because I thought it might be rude."

"Awwww, well yeah, I went to college to pursue a Master's in Engineering. All was going well, until my horny-as-fuck sorority sisters convinced me to start partying, take every drug under the sun, and abuse fertility drugs and IQ-lowering drugs to be 'more fun', which I am now, to be fair. Always carrying at least sextuplets, and I'm down to a 62 IQ, from around 170...."

"Holy shit, no wonder you're so different and, well, no offense but all you think about is getting high and having sex."

"See? More fun. Long story short I dropped out because schoolwork was getting in the way of drugs and fucking, and it turns out, fucking is a great way to score more drugs! Win-win. Now is this little interrogation over so I can go out in my little nighttime stroll outfit and get my brains fucked out for some cigarette money." She gave her brother a kiss, deep on the lips, giggled as she wiped as a line of their saliva, then merrily walked from their apartment, bobbing her hips, tits bouncing.

Sean stood there, knowing she'd be back in an hour, and they'd probably chainsmoke and fuck. But he instead got on his jacket and shoes, and took a big wad of money out of his wallet, waiting for her to get to her usual spot along the park near their apartment, before heading out. Since she was a proud little whore, he might as well pay her for sex, the thought of paying his older sister to fuck her in the middle of the park at night made his cock instantly hard. She was such a trainwreck, but he and the rest of their family was far happier to see her become a massively pregnant drug-addicted slut than an engineer. It suited Michelle so much better to be so round and dumb.

[static-electric-dreams]

I did decide to post the original art of these guys in the end; these are all from 2022, so definitely a little old. I have posted these to my Artfight account in case anyone is particularly interested in them!

Their extensive lore below (tw for discussion of mental health issues, abuse, trauma, drugs/alcohol, and self harm)

Button Bunny, Poppy Puppy, and Dreamy Deer are escaped lab experiments made from giving plushies real meat and blood inside. After enduring countless painful experiments, Button and his fellow test subjects killed all of the scientists and escaped into the real world, where they're free to do as they please.

Each of the plushies embodies a different "coping" style or set of trauma responses; this isn't supposed to be extremely deep or anything, just an idea, but to explain each one a bit further:

Button represents the "fight" response to danger, as well as cutting, self harm, and vengeful or violent thoughts/actions against one's abuser. He's fixated on blood and gore, both as a means of expressing his internal pain, and as a means of inflicting it on those who hurt him and his friends. He has the biggest thirst for blood and revenge out of the three, and is the most likely to pick a fight with a stranger. He carries a box cutter full of fresh, sharp razor blades right over his heart, signifying damage both taken and dealt. As a result, Button is "angrier" than the other two, but also more protective.

Poppy represents the "fawn" response to danger, as well as self-medication through drugs, alcohol, sex, and food. Poppy never denies herself the finer pleasures and in fact indulges in them more when she's upset. She's always likely to try to win someone over or "people please" her way out of situations and can become very upset if she genuinely thinks someone is mad at her. She smokes weed out of a heart-shaped bong, calls everyone "bestie," and sobs her eyes out into a bottle of cotton candy vodka if anything goes wrong. While she is the most outwardly emotional, she's also emotionally intelligent and glues the group together with her sharp eye for social cues.

Dreamy represents the "freeze" and "flight" responses to danger, as well as dissociation, nightmares, and severe phobias. While Button and Poppy may go on the offensive with someone they deem "bad," Dreamy will always behave passively and will never stir conflict if they can help it. Indeed, Dreamy will freeze like a deer in headlights if they're put in a stressful enough situation, and if they manage to unfreeze themselves, will run away from it as quickly as possible. Because of their fearful nature, Dreamy can only protect themselves through their experimental psychic ability to transfer their own nightmares to another person, which isn't even fully voluntary for them. Most of the time, Dreamy will defer to one of the others in a pinch.

All three of them have had their eyes swapped with one another, symbolizing the unity of the three very different trauma responses under the same trauma.

There are also two more Cursed Plushies, two wolves (one black and one white) named Yin and Yang, created by the sole surviving scientist to track down and kill Button, Poppy, and Dreamy, but I've yet to draw them even once, so they're much less fleshed out and generally less symbolic than the other three. I'll return to them someday, though.

Thanks for reading all that!

[manikas-whims]

dreamy countenance

side profile

wistful smiles

annoyed eyes

no offense Sylus..you never stood a chance against my man Xavier 😍

[frvnkcastles]

could i request one for the girls who usually never get a second glance or flirted with and are never really seen as the girlfriend/partner type or desired in any way? like the thought of someone genuinely pursuing me? like i can dream about it, that need to be loved and wanted and chosen but if it actually happened it'd be like WHY???? what's in this for you? is this a joke? i absolutely believe in loving yourself and being okay with being alone but also??? people really don't talk about the mental devastation that comes with being the "wallflower" that's never seen in a romantic sense and the walls that it creates that also sabotages any potential relationships should they actually come along so basically a reader who frankie really falls for and they're determined to push him away because they've never been in a relationship and they've created this idea in their mind that it'll never happen and they've "accepted" that they're destined to be alone though they secretly long to love and be loved in return and it's clearly eating them alive and frank is just like not on my watch

I’LL TURN MY LOVE DOWN ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: Frank is determined to show you he likes you, even if you have a hard time believing him.

Warnings: Angst, self-esteem issues, mutual pining, language

Word count: 1.8k

Author’s note: Anon, I totally relate and sympathize with you. You deserve love and I am positive it’ll come your way some day. Sending you so many hugs <3 (Also, sorry it took me a while to write this!)

You couldn’t for the life of you figure out why Frank claimed to like you so much. It was hard to believe it came from a genuine place, but at the same time, you didn’t think Frank was the type of person to purposefully mess with innocent people’s heads — leaving you completely puzzled and confused about his intentions with you.

When you met for the first time at one of Karen’s small parties, you had instantly noticed him and how attractive he was, but you wouldn’t have even dared to dream about approaching him. Guys didn’t pay attention to you, after all. Except he did. He initiated the conversation, chatting you up about how you knew Karen and if you were the type of person to go to a lot of parties — and you honestly told him no, because it usually just included you alone in the corner.

”You bein’ serious?” he had asked, a little amused, and you had almost taken offense at the thought of him making fun you. ”Sorry, I, uh, I just have a hard time believin’ you ain’t stealin’ the show everywhere you go”, he had added with a purse of his lips, and you had immediately scanned his face for any sign that he was joking. But he seemed completely sincere, and that made you uneasy. He was flirting with you, something that no one ever did.

You kept running into each other after that. And every time, without fail, he would say something equally charming and bewildering in the hopes of making it obvious that he liked you, and you never really took the bait.

It was impossible to not feel something for him in return, though, and you found yourself thinking about him often, daydreaming even. He had gotten under your skin and you were falling for him and his stupid wit and gentleman-like manners. He was dreamy in every sense of the word, always polite and kind to you but also protective and never skipped on asking you how you were doing and if you were being safe. Even when he wasn’t trying to flirt, he was being so painfully handsome and endearing.

Still, you started to grow wary of him, resented the idea of someone giving you false hope and toying with your feelings. He had succeeded in making you fall for him, but you were convinced it was one-sided and he’d never actually feel the same way about you. And you told yourself you were okay with that. You had accepted it a long time ago, made peace with the fact that you’d be alone while all your friends would get married and start families. It was sad, and deep down you desired that same kind of love, but it was what it was and you couldn’t change that.

Eventually, Frank asked you out.

”Not sure if you’ve been pickin’ up on what I’ve been hintin’ at, but I really like you, sweetheart. It’d be my honor if you let me take you on a real date sometime, just you and me”, he explained with a goofy, shy smile on his face. His proposal got you to freeze and panic, your eyes darting over to him across the table of the diner where you had crossed paths once more.

You looked at him in disbelief, not able to believe the hopeful look in his eyes, and so you shook your head in defeat. ”I—I’m really busy. I don’t think that’s a good idea. Sorry”, you responded, rushing to get up and get out of the diner. You left him behind, tears filling your eyes as you hurried down the street. You dreamed about being asked out sometimes, especially when it came to Frank, but to hear it out loud seemed so wrong and cruel and it had to be a big joke altogether, designed to make you feel bad and painfully aware of the fact that no one had ever done so before.

You left Frank concerned, most of all. He couldn’t deny that being rejected stung a little, but he was more worried about you. He wasn’t exactly Prince Charming, he knew that, but he had seen the way you looked at him, had heard the affection in your voice during moments when you really let your guard down. And he was one hundred percent convinced you liked him, too. Yet for some reason he couldn’t decipher, you seemed so reluctant to let him in. He could understand hesitation, as he, too, had been careful about allowing himself to care for someone else after Maria, but it seemed different with you. Like you didn’t believe him when he honestly told you he liked you.

You managed to avoid him for a while after that, and Frank respected your boundaries enough to not seek you out. He kept an eye on you from a distance, having grown too attached not to protect you, but he didn’t make himself known in the shadows of the night — he just watched you from afar. But you were destined to bump into one another sooner or later.

It happened at another one of Karen’s parties, not a big gathering but enough of a crowd had shown up for you to gravitate away from Frank within the house. He had seen you, nonetheless, and the wonder of what was going on with you gnawed at his soul and being to the point where he had to bring it up with Karen.

”Hey, y’know what’s goin’ with her? I was under the impression she was kinda into me but I asked her out and she, I dunno, freaked out a lil”, he shrugged while sipping on his beer, hoping to have some clarity in the situation. He had already considered that you just didn’t want to be associated with the Punisher, that he scared you or his enemies scared you, and he couldn’t blame you for that. Still, he was secretly hoping Karen would tell him otherwise.

”I don’t know”, was her answer, though, concern on her face, as well. ”I don’t think she’s ever dated anyone. Maybe that’s why”, Karen added, not really knowing more about it. You were friends, sure, but you hadn’t exactly known how to open up to her. Hey, I feel unlovable? That was no way to go about it.

Frowning, Frank caught sight of you across the room and decided to handle the situation the only way he knew how — directly and without dancing around it. So, he trekked over to you, stealing your breath away, and he gestured for you to follow him to somewhere more quiet. You didn’t know how to get out of it, so you walked after him to the porch where the dark night was illuminated with fairy lights and the music faded into a boom in the background. There were no people around, much like Frank had hoped, but it made you nervous.

”Do you like me?” he asked, cutting to the chase, staring you down in a way that had your stomach in knots. He wasn’t menacing or threatening, but he was serious, more so than you had ever seen him, and you knew he would see right through you if you lied to him.

”Yeah, I… of course, I do”, you answered, and he sighed, shaking his head.

”Nah, I mean, do you really like me? The way that I like you? ’Cause I seriously do. I find you stunnin’, smart, kind and funny and I can’t get enough of you. I want you and I need you and it’s killin’ me to be away from you”, he raved, his feelings for you rising to the surface, and you gulped at his words. No one had ever told you anything like that before.

You hesitated, but eventually, you nodded. ”Yeah, I like you”, you admitted dejectedly, like it was something to be ashamed about, and it confused Frank so deeply.

”Then why are ya so hellbent on avoidin’ me, rejectin’ me? Listen, Christ, I know I can be real scary but I’d never hurt you, darlin’. You’re always safe with me”, he insisted, and running a hand across your face, you grew frustrated that he wasn’t getting it.

”That’s not why I rejected you!” you cried out, throwing out your hands in despair. He looked at you quietly but expectantly, waiting for you to explain further, and you realized there was no getting out of this without giving him a proper answer.

”I don’t get why you’re so persistent”, you noted, sitting down on the bench on the porch. ”I just don’t get it, Frank. No one ever pays attention to me. No one’s ever asked me out or even flirted with me. So, it’s really fucking confusing that a guy like you would do that. I don’t see why you’d want to date me. It feels like a joke. I mean, what’s in it for you?” you elaborated, a tear slipping from your eye, but you were quick to wipe it away.

Stunned, Frank sank down onto the bench next to you, his head tilted so he could look at you. ”I dunno why no one’s ever asked you out, sweetheart, but it’s their loss. I think you’re fuckin’ amazin’. No one’s really made me feel this way since my wife. But you, you just… you’re all I could ask for. You’re gorgeous. And you’re a goddamn wonderful person”, he responded, boldly placing a hand on your knee, right where the hem of your dress rested. He had been eyeing you up in it all night, his heart picking up the pace every time he’d glance at you, and he couldn’t believe no one had ever told you that before.

”It just seems hard to believe”, you shrugged, looking down at your hands. ”I’ve already accepted I’ll end up alone.”

Pained by your confession, Frank inched closer to you and pulled you into his chest, his arm curling over your shoulder. ”That’s bullshit. You deserve someone. And I ain’t sayin’ it should be me, but I’m serious about wantin’ to take you out. It’s no joke or game to me, aight? I mean it. I think you’re special”, he assured, speaking from the heart. And you really, really wanted to believe him.

”You better not break my heart”, you whispered, and chuckling, Frank kissed the top of your head.

”I swear to ya. I’ll treat you right if you’ll lemme”, he promised, and in response, you smiled.

It wasn’t going to be easy unlearn everything, but Frank was determined to slowly bring down your walls and show you that you were worthy of love — and more than that, easy to love.