#please let me know if i should add any other tags for the flashing

[plankos]

building the future and keeping the past alive are one and the same thing

[impeakcharacterdesign]

Just the Tip

— Thomas Hewitt x Fem!Reader —

MDNI!!!

Summary: It’s the 1960s and Luda Mae frowns upon premarital sex like any good Christian woman. You and Tommy are young, hot, and in love but the only problem is that Tommy was raised to wait until marriage and never lets you two go any further than kissing and some groping.

But the devil lives in the hot Texan sun and even God takes a break from the summer heat.

Notes: this is super short, just pure smut, self indulgent I’m obsessed with big boy Tommy 😭😭😭 i swear I’m working on part 2 of my sister Sinclair fic but Tommy has me in a choke hold and I needed an outlet.

No TW that I can think of other than bad smut and maybe ??? Coercion??? Cause Tommy wants to be a good boy and stop before y’all go too far but you flash him and then he’s absolutely 100% in. A bit of religious stuff, period typical sexism but vaguely. Let me know if I should add anything else and I’ll get right on it. Reader isn’t ever referred to using “she/her” pronouns but is described as having breasts and does have female genitalia so I tagged it fem reader to be safe

Enjoy!!!

The early morning sun burned, chasing away what little cool air remained of the night before. While the barn shaded you from the unforgiving sun and hid you from disapproving eyes — or lecherous in the case of the older men of the family — it also trapped in the heat your two bodies gave off.

Thomas pressed his open mouth to your own, tongue swiping over your teeth eager to taste you. Your hands gripped his dark hair, ruining any half-effort attempt he had made earlier in the day to smooth down his unruly hair. He held you in his arms, body pressed tightly against him in an attempt to get as close as possible, his large frame hiding you even further from prying eyes than the shadowed corners of the old barn. The kiss was deep and hungry and served as a brief respite from Luda Maes ever watching eyes. While she had been fine with you living with the family before you and Tommy were married, she forbade you from sharing a room or being intimate, a rule she absolutely refused to budge on and one that Uncle Charlie took a strange glee in ribbing you about. But much like the Texan heat, the heated looks you gave each other were unavoidable and only grew hotter as the summer days went on. Luda Mae wanted to wait until the following spring to make your union official but at the rate the town was drying up, there wouldn't even be a priest to officiate the ceremony, much less any guest to attend. You highly doubted anyone outside of the family would want to witness your union anyway but still, Luda Mae didn't want the few who would to get wise and start counting months.

These stolen moments in the barn were as good as you could get — and by god were they good.

Tommy’s large hands groped at your breasts, pawing roughy at your nipples through the worn fabric of your old dress. It wasn’t long before you found yourself in the familiar position of being sprawled out on the barn floor, coarse hay a discomfort you had long learned to endure for the sake of pleasure.

You desperately thrust your sex up onto his growing bulge, whining when he groaned and pinned your hips with his own, preventing you from getting your desired stimulation. “Please Tommy,” you beg, lips separating, “We don’t have to do too much, I just wanna touch you.” You press open-mouthed kisses to his neck, pulling softly at the flesh with your teeth and tongue dragging across the bites to taste the salt on his skin. Your hands eagerly worked to untuck his faded green shirt and wrap around him, roaming the vast expanse of his back. His whole body shuddered in your arms, an attempt to hold back from eating you whole.

You know Thomas will put an end to your romp soon, the tense lines of his shoulders and the way he shuts his eyes a sign that he's reaching his limit, that if you two don't stop now you won't be able to stop — but that’s exactly what you want.

You're tired of holding back, of this constant edging you have to endure when you’re in his presence and it gets harder every day. Just yesterday afternoon, Uncle Charlie sprayed Tommy with the hose, telling him that he was filthy and needed to get out of those clothes before he went inside. Watching as he undressed by the back door so that you could put his clothes on the line to dry had nearly given you a heatstroke — and if Charlie’s leering grin was any clue, you swear he did it on purpose in an attempt to rile you up. You ran off before you sinned right there in the yard, the memory of Thomas's shirt clinging to his arms, his chest glistening with water had kept you company well into the night.

So before Tommy puts a stop to your roll in the hay you make your move. You lift your dress up past your breast and expose yourself to him, you can see his breath stutter in his chest, this was quickly becoming the farthest you two had ever gone.

“Just watch me, Tommy, watch me,” you say breathlessly.

And he does, he sits on his haunches like a predator, his engorged cock straining against his pants and imagining just a taste has your tongue darting out to wet your lips, his gaze fixated on the movement.

Sliding your panties off your legs, your fingers dip briefly into your wet hole, gathering slick to rub onto your clit. At the very first touch, you let out a shuddering breath and you watch as his shoulders heave.

You begin rubbing your clit at an intense pace already turned on from the earlier heavy petting, not once breaking eye contact with Thomas as you do. With each moan you muffle you see his eyes grow darker with desire breathing with his mouth open as though he could taste your scent in the air. When he finally lets his cock spring free you let out your loudest moan yet. It’s better than you ever thought. His cock is thick and heavy, drooping slightly under its own weight but still undeniably firm. It curves slightly and you imagine that if it was inside you it would scrape against your walls in a way you've never been able to do with just your fingers.

Thomas grips his cock firmly and gives it a few tugs, eyes alternating between hungrily drinking in the sight of your blissed-out expression and your dripping pussy. You buck your hips, desperate to press your clit against your fingers and Thomas jerks his length even faster, rubbing his tip and spreading his precum on his hand.

God, you wished it was you that was touching him.

Thomas settles onto his knees and after a brief hesitation begins to shuffle closer to you. The sight of him crawling to you on his knees with his dripping length in hand made your pussy clench around nothing and you let out a whimper. You remove your fingers from your clit, feeling the heat radiating from his cock as he settles on top of you, legs spreading around his waist, your hips slightly raised and resting on his thighs.

The tip hesitantly pressed against your clit and your moan fills the small space before you can suppress it. This was better than you were hoping and it felt as though you were pressing against the boundaries the lord had set for you. Tommy’s eyes find yours looking for reassurance, asking without words, “Do you think this is okay?”

You find enough comprehension in your lust-addled brain to come up with a coherent answer, “It should be fine, I think,” you stammer out, “I mean, it’s not like — not like you’re putting it in so, it should be fine.”

You’re not overly familiar with the word of God outside of Sunday services and Luda Mae’s lectures, both of which you were forced to attend and spent tuning out in favor of watching the sweat build on Tommy’s brow while he worked through the window.

You think that if God could feel the weight of Thomas like you did, feel the heat like you could, you think he’d forgive the sin of your act.

It seems like that was all the reassurance that Thomas needed because no sooner than the words fumbled their way out of your mouth that he begins to drag the length of his cock against your slit.

God, if this is what hell was supposed to be like, burning and full of decadence, then perhaps you didn’t mind being a sinner.

The way he ruts against you is euphoric. Heavy breaths escape you both and you can’t help the words that spill from your lips.

“God, Tommy, I wish you would put it inside me,” you whine out “‘wanna feel your fat cock in my pussy, wanna get filled,” you might as well be begging at this point, and Tommy's increases his pace to the point that you think he wants the same thing, that he’s desperate to thrust into you rather than against you and —

And then the tip of his cock catches on your entrance and you both stop breathing.

“Maybe — Maybe it doesn’t count.” You stammer out, “It didn’t go in and it’s just the tip, and I don’t think that the tip counts” With the slightest twitch of his hips the tip of his cock has slipped inside.

"It's - it's just the tip it's fine” Your words sound empty even to you but the reassurance is all Tommy needs to push forward and let the head of his cock slide into your welcoming heat

His soul nearly leaves his body when he feels your raw pussy on the head of his cock. He jerks his length furiously and your fingers begin to move against your clit again, eager to meet your high with Thomas.

But it’s not enough. He was right there, right there just one push of his hips he’d be right where you needed him

“Please Tommy” Canting your hips slightly so the tip begins to dig deeper into you, you begin to plead once more, “wanna feel you fill me up, wanna remember the shape of your cock please”

Thomas feels years of control break at your words and with one swing of his hips, he bottoms out instantly. You feel like you've been punched in the gut as the air rushes out of you and you let out a sound like a wounded animal. Tommy stays still deep inside you, shaking and heaving, absolutely drunk on the feeling of your soaked walls clenching vigorously around his length.

You feel full in a way you've never thought possible. His length throbs, its girth stretching you in a way that burns.

When he finally starts thrusting, you’re not ready. He’s like a man possessed, solely focused on the feel of you around him, your skin pressed against his, his blood pounding in his ears.

“Wait— Tommy, ah, slow — slow down, oh god!” You can’t hold back your moans and he can’t stop, both fully engrossed in the feel of each other with no control over your own lust. Thomas crashes his lips onto yours in a halfhearted attempt to keep down your moans, it’s sloppy, clashing teeth and drooling tongues, spit escaping your lips, unlike any you’ve shared before.

This is completely different from what you’ve imagined your first time together would be like. It’s not your wedding night, you're laying on the dirty barn floor and there’s absolutely nothing gentle about the way Tommy is ravaging you. Your pussy is sopping wet and with every thrust, it lets out an embarrassing squelch, your juices and Tommy’s pre-cum leak down your ass and make a sticky mess in his dark pubes.

He doesn’t stop even as your walls spasm around him, cumming on his cock and digging your nails into his strong back. He works you through your orgasm even as your mouth clumsily forms the words to beg for him to slow down or to give you a moment. It’s too much, the sensations completely overloading your brain and all you can do is hold on tightly to him, lost in the ecstasy of your release.

Thomas lets out a deep, guttural groan as he cums, hips stuttering as he bullies his fat cock into the deepest part of your sex, filling you to the brim and your vision goes white.

Boneless, neither one of you makes a move to separate from the other, so thoroughly satisfied and content to lie where you are holding each other, Thomas’s softening cocking slipping out of you and spilling his release onto the ground.

His weight on you is comforting, you gently press kisses to his face and bask in the way his heavy breaths caress your sweaty skin.

“I love you.” You whisper into the shell of his ear and he squeezes you against him, repeating the words in his garbled voice the best he could. Your love is just for the two of you, no one else had a place in your world, no one else had the right to peak in on your affection or gawk at your differences.

This moment in time was just for the two of you.

“Thomas! Where the hell are ya, boy!”

Well, until Uncle Charlie’s voice brought you back down to reality.

[jjenthusee]

Racing Hearts

f1!driver!Jason x reporter!Reader

A/N: i know i said that i felt like writing a toxic f1!driver!Jason, but my mind always reverts back to fluff and hurt/comfort. i can’t help it. :( So ENJOY <3 comment if your comfortable, let me know your thoughts, and please check out the art that inspired this fic (F1 Driver, F1 Driver Pt.2 and F1 Driver Pt.3) i’m proud of how everything came together \(^~^)/ ALSO I SEE THOSE OF U WHO SPAM LIKE, REBLOG, OR COMMENT ON ALL MY WRITING (I LOVE ALL OF YOU) it makes me geek out fr

The story will continue! Here is pt. 2 HEHEHE

Tags: banter, agonizing fluff, hurt/comfort, strangers to friends to lovers, sudden roy harper appearance???,

Word Count: 3.7k

The lights were bright, rapid flashes brightening every angle of Jason’s face as he stood in front of multiple cameras.

His sweat pricking his forehead and running down the sides of his face, shimmering from the light, making him even more attractive as he finally felt the sun on his skin after a race.

His racing helmet clasped in his hand, towel in the other, dabbing at the sides of his neck. His hair perfectly messy from his win.

Fans screaming his name, reporters trying to get his attention. A man finally stopping him in his tracks, shoving a microphone closer to him, surpassing those who were also trying to talk to the star in question.

“Jason, we have seen your name repeatedly throughout racing legacies, what’s the secret to having such a great career?”

Jason continued to walk again, waving at fans, effortlessly pleasing the crowd one look at a time. The reporters and photographers following him like pigeons flocking to food on the ground. Shouting to repeat his name.

After dabbing his towel to his face, he turned back to look at the interviewer. A sparkle in his eyes.

“You’re lookin’ at him. What else do I need?” Jason smugly smiled, briefly making eye contact with the interviewer as he spoke, the interviewer’s face slightly reddening. Giving his classic swoon worthy smirk, fans erupting behind him trying to get a glimpse.

Just another day as one of the world’s best racer.

——

Jason had arrived late, his ball cap worn nicely on his head, his classic Red Bull uniform snug around his fit physique.

Bright lights burned down on him, giving the cameras the best lighting. Jason’s flaws were being watched like a hawk, ready to be shown, but he confidently walked to the microphones.

He let out his signature smile, a quick wink to the nearest interviewer, tapping the microphone in front of him.

Repeated thump thumps echoed through the speakers as he sat down, his management team not far off the stage as he took one of the two seats. The other driver no where in sight, his bright orange hair nonexistent next to Jason. The iconic duo not yet together.

Multiple hands raised, ready to ask Jason any big questions they had been saving for the past twenty minutes until one of the two men decided to join. The press conference should have started once his companion arrived, but journalists weren’t patient people.

“Mr. Todd! How does it feel to add another win to your belt and beat your own record?” A bright young man asked from the crowd, his glasses bouncing off his nose.

Jason laughed, pride taking up the entire room.

“I didn’t know there was any other option.” Jason leaned into the mic, giving a show of his arms crossed, muscles on the table in front of him.

You could practically hear the fans screaming through the camera as you sat a couple rows from the racer. You were surprised his ego didn’t push you off your seat when he arrived.

“Jason! There is talk that your contract is near its end and you are possibly thinking about changing teams, what are your thoughts?” A blonde woman asked two rows in front of you.

“I always think of my fans first, I want to carefully consider everything when I make that decision. Plus, I can’t deny how good I look in black.” Jason teasingly tilted his head.

A quiet scoff left your mouth.

It was now or never, you didn’t know how loud the room was going to get once the second racer arrived.

You raised your hand, standing up to talk face to face to Formula 1’s hottest driver, Jason Todd.

Well…face to face was pushing it, there were other reporters also trying to get their chance with the ever bright star.

But a press conference was a press conference, if you don’t make yourself known, you don’t get to ask any questions.

Once Jason’s focus landed on your standing form, he nodded at you, giving you permission to speak.

Returning the courtesy, you nodded your head.

“Gotham’s greatest has returned.” You smiled, notebook in hand, voice even.

“Please, no need for an introduction.” Jason chuckled, interrupting your sentence as the rest of the crowd laughed with him.

Charmer. You thought.

Patience has always been your virtue, too many people tested you in your line of work, but you could handle someone as spontaneous as Jason Todd.

“Not only do you have the skill, you have the money, and the team to back you up. You are engineered for success.” You explained.

Jason chuckled, charming smile broadening at the compliments.

“You have such a nice way with words.” He relayed through the microphone, projecting his husky voice throughout the room, gaining another laugh from the crowd.

“But your Chief Technical Officer is leaving this season, digging a huge hole in your team. His legacy changed the engineering of your vehicle because he introduced you to your legendary car. Putting you and your other driver, Roy Harper, in a position of possibly seeing your racing careers coming to an end as your CTO retires.”

“You do have a way with words.” Jason repeated, irritation pricking at his skin, but keeping that picture perfect smile for the camera. You smiled again, a tiny bit wider at his strain.

“In other words, your fans are wondering, if your car can’t be at it’s top shape, there’s only so much skill you can perfect before technology surpasses you and you can only see the rear wing of all your opponents.”

Ouch. Jason thought, smiling through your verbal jabs, but none of the amusement reflected in his eyes as he stared at you.

“What did you say your name was?” Jason sat up straighter, his tone lowering. He was used to mindlessly giving eye contact, giving that mind numbing attention that most people on the internet fawned over.

This time it was different, he focused in on the reporter standing not far from his seat, never lowering their eyes from him.

You smiled, slow and calm, basking in causing the change in the flirtatious F1 driver.

Now you had his attention.

“All legacies come to an end, Mr. Todd.” You continued, never answering his question. “Now that your CTO Elainey Usoro is confirmed to leave, will we be able to witness your legacy end in the upcoming season?”

“Aren’t you jumping the gun? Of course my name will continue to be recognized.” Jason scoffed.

“But will it be recognized as the star that lost its fame?” You nudged again.

Jason’s face went neutral, observing you. You stared back, not wavering in your eye contact, a calm diligence.

A tension blanketed the conference room.

Roy threw his arm around Jason’s shoulders in a friendly manner, leaning against his driving buddy as he also threw a flirtatious smile. His laid back demeanor cut up the tension filling the room, the reporters getting oddly quiet at the sudden back and forth of you and Jason, but saved by the second driver’s arrival.

Roy was as fashionably late as usual, throwing a kiss towards the management team on the side lines. His iconic bright hair covered in a backwards ball cap.

They erupted his name around you, as you stood above the crowd.

Roy waved his hand, playfully mimicking a royal princess addressing his loyal subjects as he kept his arm on Jason.

Despite the noise around you, Jason kept his look at you.

Once Roy was done getting in his crowd pleasing, he spoke.

“Sweetheart, just ‘cause Usoro is leaving doesn’t mean we get cars tossed in from the dump. The position will just be empty until the next season begins. I can promise you we aren’t taking off our uniforms any time soon. I look too good with the words ‘Red Bull’ across my abs.” Roy cheekily grinned, toothpick in between his teeth.

Roy Harper. You thought.

One coquettish athlete was one thing, but two had the potential to test you.

“I hope to see those results, Mr. Harper.” You calmly smiled. You glanced back to Jason. “Thank you for answering my questions, Mr. Todd.”

You sat back in your chair, your badge displaying your name and company around your neck. The symbol recognizable to Jason, but he had reset to his usual coy responses before he did anything about it.

And the press conference continued as usual, the fans loving Jason, interviewers taken with him. They tried to trip him up like you had, but no one had pricked him as much as you did.

——

The chair you sat in was uncomfortable.

Luxurious restaurants had the weirdest looking furniture, twisted in odd shapes to make it more appealing to the rich.

The mood lighting set low to create a kind of intimacy most fancy restaurants aimed for.

Jason sat across from you, waiting on his dinner for the night.

“Thank you for meeting me today, Mr. Todd. The place you chose is…quaint.” You eyed the indoor waterfall and the huge chandelier.

“You should have ordered something, this place is known for its seafood.” Jason smiled, crossing his arms across his chest.

A much too expensive watch on his wrist, in too expensive clothes, in a too expensive restaurant.

Your outfit was formal, you thought it fit the atmosphere of the restaurant and you were only here for business. The contrast of the two of you looked like a boss and his employee from afar. Awkward and not on the same level of pay.

The salary of Formula 1 drivers would make any person look plain next to them.

“I shouldn’t because we’re here to discuss about you.” You plainly said, posture straight.

Jason stared at you, the shadows on his face chiseling out his features more than usual. Casually leaning into his chair.

“So, tell me, Mr. Todd—“ You formally started.

“Call me Jason.” He leaned his arms on the table, more of his face coming into the light, his wrist watch glistening in the warm light.

He probably has his own personal jeweler that shines his watch everyday. You judged internally, your left eyebrow raising. A nonverbal “really?” unconsciously stemming onto your face.

Jason’s smile growing wider at your reaction.

“Well…Jason,” You awkwardly corrected, face going back to neutral. “Our interaction last week has gained…interest. I’ve been told that your management is interested in us discussing another interview, just the two of us?” You picked up your glass of water, gently sipping.

Jason was weirdly silent, watching intently at your moves and words.

“Tell me about yourself.” You continued, gently laying your cup on the glass table. Placing your notebook next to it and a simple pen. The plain stationary complimenting your equally plain outfit.

“Jason Todd, F1 driver, signed onto Red Bull, haven’t changed since.” Jason’s food arrived. “The podium is practically my home, the stuff everyone knows. You could quickly Google all of that.”

You stayed quiet, mindlessly writing his quotes in your notebook. Not much effort put in your handwriting.

“But no one is interested in that.” Jason took a bite, glancing back at you as you stopped writing.

“Why not?”

“Okay, ‘lil reporter, let’s be real for a second. The reason why the internet wanted us to meet again is because of how we interacted.” Jason continued to eat. “You have no interest in me, despite your line of work.”

You put your pen down. Really listening.

“I may not be interested in your career, but I do have a passion in what I do.” You defended yourself, tone firm.

“I’m familiar with your work.” His nonchalance apparent in the way Jason sat. His voice leveled, none of the familiar coquettish attitude in front of you. The real Jason was sitting there.

“You are?” You stammer in confusion. You hadn’t expect his shift in demeanor or that he knew about you.

“Duh, that’s why I tried asking for your name last week, but someone thought it was cute to ignore me.” Jason sipped on his water.

Your mouth formed into a firm line.

You knew that there had to be another person underneath all the on screen charisma, but you didn’t expect to meet him at this dinner that was set up. Hell, you even expected getting cancelled by all his hardcore fans the next morning after the press conference.

“Look, I wasn’t interested because everyone knows you. You rightfully made a name for yourself and I had chosen another athlete to interview that day, but it was scrapped because the ‘great’ Jason Todd, shining beloved driver, had made a comeback after you had flopped for a short while.” You breathed, catching your breath.

Jason stopped eating, watching you look at the notebook on the table, a single sentence written on the blank page.

“Ouch, lil’ reporter.” Jason looked up from his plate, his eyes sparkling at something interesting he’s heard.

“I wanted to interview a woman changing athletics, but I had to drop everything to meet you at a press conference you were twenty minutes late to. So, yeah, I wasn’t overjoyed to meet you that day. I’m sorry if I was rude, you weren’t the one who rejected my story.” You slightly huffed, the most emotion you’ve shown Jason.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Jason enthusiastically put down his fork. “Finally some honesty, I was questioning whether you were a robot.”

“Huh?” You had expected Jason to be mad.

“Bad things happen, but we were told to put this together. So, forget the sports stats, let’s show them something a lil’ different.” Jason smiled, a genuine smile that didn’t look at you any differently after you vented out your frustrations about him.

“Like what? Get to know the real you?” You flatly said. “Sounds kinda cheesy.”

“I love to talk about myself, so why not?” Jason shrugged his shoulders.

You sighed.

“Okay—okay, let’s start with—“

“No, no, no.” Jason interrupted you. “Not here, hell no.”

“You chose this place, I thought this was what you wanted.” You questioned.

“The company chose this, I don’t like seafood.” Jason replied, blankly staring at you.

“What?!” You nearly yelled, self-consciously looking at the other tables, nodding an apology.

Jason laughed, truly laughed.

“Are you free tomorrow?” He asked, smile reaching his eyes.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” You replied, lost in the development.

“Great, we’ll meet for dinner.”

——

You ended up outside of what appeared to be local restaurants, packed inside an outdoor lounge area, surrounded by furnished secan containers locking in the structure.

It was beautiful with the hanging string lights illuminating the seating area.

You looked in awe.

“You’re on time.” Jason’s voice rung on top of your head, behind you.

You turned around, surprised at the sudden silent appearance and the casual clothes he was in, no fancy watch, his clothes looked like normal department store ones, and his hair was messily down.

“Ten minutes late? That’s a new record.” You quipped.

“Ha!” Jason laughed. “I almost didn’t recognize you in casual clothes. You almost looked less robotic.”

Jason leaned down to give you a once over like he was evaluating your outfit.

“Quit it, I’m starving and whatever smell is coming from that side is changing my brain chemistry.”

Jason smiled, following behind as you led yourself by your nose.

“Holy shit.” You took a moment after your first bite.

“Woah, the robot cusses. What a scary lil’ reporter.” Jason teasingly shook his head, taking a bite after his teasing. “Holy fuck.”

“Right?!” You smiled, eyes squinting at your cheeks lifting.

Jason, lost in the food, chewed, taking in all the flavors.

“I could die in this moment and ask the paramedics to pass on my final wish, to thank the owner of the food truck over there.” You sipped your beer.

Jason stopped eating, pausing to look at you.

“What?” You questioned his stare.

“You actually have emotions.” Jason kept his face blank.

“Shut up, I would throw this at you if it didn’t change my taste buds.” You frowned.

Jason laughed. His shoulders shaking from the movement.

You noticed his smile was different. He had actual smile lines on his face, his eyebrows grew softer. It wasn’t the usual look he gave after his races.

“Is this what the incredible Jason Todd does when he isn’t wearing his Red Bull uniform?” You tried to casually prod into his life.

“How smooth,” Jason whistled, catching onto your nosiness. “I came here a lot with my brothers.”

“Wow, Wayne family lore.” You kept your eyes on your food, trying to deter the atmosphere away from the sad tone coming from Jason.

“Not the best history there.” Jason quietly spoke, picking at his food.

“A rich boy with family issues, I would have never guessed.” You smiled at him, playfully punching his shoulder. “I might be a reporter, but I respect boundaries. I don’t like the work of others that invade privacy for selfish reasons, bombard children of celebrities, and other awful reasons. So, trauma dump or not.” You smirked.

“Wow, lil’ reporter is all grown up.” Jason dramatically wiped the corner of his eye, wiping nonexistent tears.

“Never mind, I already know the title of the article.” You flatly said. “Rich, charismatic—“

“Aren’t you a charmer—“

“Pain in the ass, reckless, thorn in my side—“ You continued.

“Okay, alright, that’s enough, I get it.” Jason smiled, despite the harsh words.

You raised your left eyebrow, not fully convinced.

Jason used his thumb to rub your eyebrow back to its normal spot, you closed your eyes, moving your head away from his playful harsh rubs.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get there.” Jason reassured. “You’ll get my all my issues, the one time I was mugged, the reason why I don’t drink, and all my kinks.”

“What?!” You shrieked, Jason laughing at your reaction.

“I’m kidding, I was never mugged.”

You threw your dirty napkin at Jason.

——

After the fulfilling dinner, you got Jason’s number, set another date for a lunch, and you were happy.

It had been a while since you had time to enjoy a meal, no work blurring into your off time.

You could never admit to Jason that these meals felt like dinners with friends, not work at all.

Jason had suggested that you choose a spot. You decided on ice cream, not a lunch spot or a decent meal to talk over, but he didn’t complain.

You sent a location to him for a spot near the harbor.

You met each other, the weather getting colder after the F1 season was over and the new norm of adding a jacket to your daily clothing.

It felt idiotic to get ice cream in cold weather, but it was too late to change now.

Jason came five minutes late this time.

“You’re getting better!” You yelled between your cold hands. “Almost brought a smile to my face!”

You fought a smile as you saw Jason jog to your waiting spot.

“I couldn’t let my lil’ reporter wait too long in this cold weather.” Jason’s breaths fogged around him as he caught his breath. Teasing your cheeks into a slight blush, but maybe that was the cold weather.

You put your hands back into your pockets, trying to keep any warmth in them.

“Let’s go, before the ice cream melts.” You joked, walking away from Jason.

“Why ice cream?” He questioned, catching up to your side.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “Don’t you get those cravings for hot chocolate in summer and ice cream in winter?”

“No, only robots think that.” Jason smiled.

You swung to punch his shoulder. Jason didn’t even bother dodging, taking the hit with the biggest grin on his face.

“I’m glad this isn’t a live interview again because if I wasn’t cancelled for giving attitude to you at the press conference, then your fangirls and boys would berate me after this.” You spoke, ears red.

“They wouldn’t do that. They just love trying to get me in as many love scandals as possible.” Jason rubbed the edge of your ear with his fingers, they felt warm to the touch. “Been a running joke for a while. Last week they thought I was dating a valet guy and previously they thought it was a some lady at the auto shop.”

“Does that explain the edits of you with some taco stand guy?” You smirked.

“Aw, you looked me up.” Jason cooed.

“Alright, that’s enough.” You laughed as you walked into the ice cream parlor. The two of you walking in and a pair of teenagers sat alone in the shop.

“One scoop of strawberry please.” You asked the teen worker, you looked at Jason, silently asking for his order.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Oh? Do I get the pleasure of you treating me to ice cream?” He teased.

“Just order.” You told him, feigning frustration.

“Banana split please.” Jason excitedly told the worker.

“Wow, really taking advantage of me.” You pulled out your card.

Jason pulled out a twenty dollar bill from his wallet, placing it in the tip jar.

You smiled to yourself.

As you sat with your sweet treats, Jason was devouring the ice cream.

“Y’know, now I get why you get this craving.” Jason scooped another bite in his mouth.

“No more robot talk from now on.” You eyed him.

“Sorry about that. I just wanted you to act like yourself. You look better like that.” Jason mindlessly played with the left over ice cream at the bottom of his plastic tray, a small smile forming on his face. “People getting angry at me turns me on.” Jason smirked, his coquettish personality coming back, but it didn’t annoy you as much as it did before.

You choked on your ice cream, the realization to his words in your eyes. You looked back at the other teenagers in the shop, they were in their own world, not paying attention to you.

“Relax, they don’t care about us.” Jason laughed.

You glanced back at him, weighing the thoughts on your next words.

“I bet my praise would be more effective.” You scooped your last bit of ice cream, finishing it.

Jason’s laughed boomed in front of you. He was smiling like a little kid, it lightened your heart.

“I never know what comes out of that pretty mouth.” He couldn’t stop laughing.

Your ears reddened at his words.

You nervously played with your spoon.

Words. Yes, they were just words. No need to overreact.

“Wanna walk by the harbor? I think I need to walk off all this sugar.” You asked Jason, getting up to throw away your empty cup.

The air outside was freezing, but your ears burned.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

In Bloom 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, allusions to trauma, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After wasting much of your youth in a toxic situation, things are starting to look up. That's until you meet a certain flower seller.

Characters: Cole Turner, short!reader

Note: Tomorrow is beach day for me.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

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The city streets seem to slant around you, looming outside the car windows, blurring at the edges. Your displacement adds to the effect, making your dizzy, leaving your hands raw as you wring them compulsively. You shrink back into your seat, shying away from the world that seems so scary to you. 

Aunt Bev is completely unbothered. She sings along to her favourite 80s bop as she keeps speed with the rest of traffic. She's always in a sunny mood but that day, she beams even brighter. When you asked why, she was almost stunned by the question; 'well, sweetheart, it's your birthday!' 

You forgot. Or didn't care. You never really celebrate. Your last birthday you can barely discern from all the other grim days. You try not to think of that life you had before Aunt Bev showed up to drag you into the light. You suppose it's probably been just under a year since. 

As if sensing your grey thought, she reaches to turn the volume down. She resumes her firm grip on the wheel and peeks over quickly. She smiles as she stops at the changing light. 

"You get a free scoop. You got your ID?" She says. 

You nod. That's one of the things that's new to you. Before you never even had a library card. Before, it was like you never even existed. As far as the world was concerned, you didn't.  

You look down at the purse in your lap. Your cousin Lena gave it to you. She said she never used it and it suited you better. There was a lot she handed over, though without any real concern. Her and your other cousin, Mason, have so much, they hardly know the difference. 

You stare at the embroidered petals on the black velvet. Lena's wrong. It's too nice for you. 

You tear your hands apart and lift the flap. You slide out the small wallet within. Another inherited piece. You slip out the ID card and stare at the photo. It doesn't really look like you but you've never really been able to recognise yourself. Your features always struck you as unfamiliar. 

You remember when you went to fill out the paperwork. Standing in front of that lens, staring into its black eye, and the sudden flash. You tuck the card away and shove the wallet back in the depths of the purse. 

"Lena's making you a cake," Bev says, "she always loves an excuse to make a mess of my kitchen." 

You try to laugh, it's more a crackle. That's the thing about Aunt Bev, everything is so careless to her, so easy. It all feels so strange to you. You don't fit but no one else seems to notice. 

"Mason should be there but heavens knows he's always late. That's not my doing, by the way, your uncle's always been horrible about time," she scoffs. 

You hum to acknowledge you're listening. The mention of your cousin and uncle make you uneasy. It isn't that they're bad. No, they're so nice, like Lena and Bev, but they're men. You try not to hold that against them but you've never been very comfortable around them. Not that you spent much time around male counterparts. 

"Twenty-five," she preens, "exciting." 

You clear your dry throat, "yep." 

You tuck your chin down and fidget with the strap of the purse. Twenty-five. Halfway through your first decade of adulthood and you still feel like a child. It's nothing to celebrate but Aunt Bev sees everyday as a reason. 

She puts on her signal and waits in the line of cars. You squint through her side and see the bustling of vehicles and people in a large lot. All this for ice cream. You told her you aren't particularly hungry even but she insisted. 

She turns and rolls into the lot, finding a spot amid the tight lines. She sighs and pulls the visor down to check her dyed waves in the mirror. She's always so put together. She tried to help you but you don't like the feel of mascara and you had an allergic reaction to the lip gloss. She didn't try again. 

"Alright, ice cream!" She snaps the visor up, "do you know which flavour you want?" 

You unbuckle your seat belt and shrug, "I don't know what they have." 

"Fair," she tilts her head as she opens her door, "I'm feeling a good old vanilla cone." 

You get out and shut the door. You hook the purse on your shoulder and meet her by the hood. You walk in step with her, peering around at the other people streaming towards the other side of the lot. There’s a large archway leading to a large plot of booths and stands. It’s a market of some sort, the kind you’ve only seen on television. 

“I thought we were getting ice cream,” you say as you grip your purse. 

“They have ice cream. I have another surprise. For your birthday,” she insists, “I wanted to buy you a gift.” 

“Oh? I don’t need one.” 

“I want to,” she says, “me and Lena used to come here all the time. You’ll like it.” 

You don’t argue. You have no right to. She’s doing you a favour. Another one.  

It’s crowded but everyone seems happy. You’re not used to all the noise or clamour. A woman pushes a stroller ahead of you as her husband chases a lively toddler past her. You press your chapped lips together and hold in your unease. 

You’re not the best in these sort of situations. Too many people, too much going on. Just going down to City Hall to get your ID was a lot. The hospital too. Those stiff, cramped plastic chairs and people filling even the space between them. 

You keep your shoulders curled in as you walk with Bev. You end up behind her, following her lead, stopping where she stops, looking at whatever she looks at. She points out a crystal sunflower necklace and you smile and nod. When you see the price, you frown. 

“Maybe something else. I don’t wear jewelry,” you say. You don’t wear it because you never had it. 

“It would be so pretty,” she remarks. 

“No, really, it’s... nice, but not for me.” 

You sidle on. There’s a table of soaps so pungent they make your head cloudy, and candles that look like whipped desserts. You cross to another booth and Bev buys some local honey and apple butter. She likes the honey in her tea in the evening. She always makes you a cup too. 

She shows you the wildflower honey giddily and points you onward. You stick close, following her direction as it keeps your head from spinning. You go to crocheter’s stand with stuffed animals meant for the children shouting and running around more than you. That whale might be cute but you’re not a child anymore, are you? 

You carry on. Bev shows you several other things. A little compact mirror with mother of pearl on the case and a hand-painted wooden chest you could put on your dresser. The dresser she bought in the room she gave you in the house she pays for. 

“You really don’t need to buy my anything. The ice creams good enough,” you say as your doubt bubbles over but it’s too loud for her to hear you. And she’s too distracted. 

Aunt Bev stands on her toes, though she’s already a tall figure, and waves at someone. She grabs your wrist and you wince as she pulls you through the swaths of people. You want to tear away as her grip makes you itch. You don’t like being touched. You’re not used to it. 

She pulls you to another row of stalls and stops before a medley of plants. There's a little chalkboard sign in the corner that reads ‘Cole’s Corner’. Pots line the top of the table, cacti and spider plants and succulents. Their green and lovely and lush. 

Bev lets go and you stare down at them. They’re familiar. They’re pretty. You could smile if your ears weren’t burning from the bustling people around. 

You’ve always known soil, always known the smell of pollen and the tough roots of unwanted weeds. When you weren’t trapped in your room, you were stranded in the garden, searching for bright petals or nursing wilting stems. Out in the dirt, you didn’t have to worry about anything. 

Often Aunt Bev found you in the plot she allotted you among her rose bushes and tulips. The space you made your own with the gnome you painted yourself. That was one of her little crafts she liked to do. She always had an idea for something or the other; waxed-linen to use as reusable bowl covers or tie-dye tee shirts. 

You stare down at a pot of aloe vera. The pot is clay; the base is brown and the top is painted white. You admire the jutting rigid leaves as the chaos around you settles into the background. You lean in closer at the burst of colour behind it, a bunch of pleasant pink begonias. 

“Cole,” your aunt chirps, “busy today.” 

“Sure is,” the man behind the table answers and your eyes flick up as you nearly jump.  

You hadn’t seen him. You were too distracted by the fauna. You don’t know how you didn’t. He’s tall and his blue eyes twinkle as they meet yours. You quickly shy away as the sight of his soft hay brown hair lingers in your mind. 

“This your sister?” He asks. 

“Oh, Cole, don’t be silly. You can flatter me all you like. You’re still a horrible salesman.” 

“Usually works,” he chuckles, “daughter?” 

“You’ve met Lena,” she chides then introduces you by name, “this is my niece. Hon, this is Cole. He grows these all himself.” 

“Ah, the niece,” he snaps his fingers. “I remember.” 

As he turns away you continue to peruse. Your cheeks are burning. You’re suddenly not as content to browse the plants. Not as you feel the sting of that man’s gaze nipping at you. It’s just the way he’d looked at you. Maybe just that he’d even saw you. 

Suddenly, a pot wrapped in burlap is set down in front of you. You examine the yellow petals and peek over at Aunt Bev. She grins and her gaze trails between you and the man. You gulp and turn back to once more consider the flowers. 

“Daylily,” you murmur. 

He leans in and lets out a scratchy noise, “that’s right.” 

You suck in your lower lip. You hadn’t meant to say it out loud. Your lashes flick up then down as you can’t figure what to do with yourself. 

“You like flowers? Your aunt says you spend all your time in the garden.” 

You shrug, then nod, and once more dart a look over at Aunt Bev. She said all that? To him? Why? 

“How about that one?” She comes closer as she reaches for her purse, “it’s her birthday. I’d like her to get something nice for her.” 

“Can’t go wrong with day lily. They keep bloom for a while but each blossom only lasts about a day,” he turns the pot slightly as he speaks, “symbolic of devotion and forgetting worries. They brighten the place right up.” 

“So?” Aunt Bev nudges you with her elbow. 

You dip your chin, “um, sure, okay. Thank you, Aunt Bev.” 

“Flowers are always a good gift. These ones won’t need much in the winter either. They’ll come right back,” he explains, “is that all?” 

“Yep, I think you’ve bled me dry,” Bev kids as she hands over her money, “I only have so much room left in the backyard.” 

“Ah, don’t got that problem on the farm. Sometimes, I don’t know what to do with all the land,” he counts out her change from a metal box. 

“Must be nice. I swear, living in the city can be so... suffocating,” Bev mopes as she tucks away the coins. “Go on, hon, you wanna carry your flowers?” 

You mutter your acquiescence and step forward to reach for the pot. Before you can, that man, Cole, slides it out of your grasp. “Wait, one minute.” He turns and digs around in a crate hidden beneath the perpendicular table, “it’s your birthday, isn’t it?” He pulls out a ribbon, the same colour as the daylily, “just put a proper bow on.” 

He ties it up in a drooping uneven bow. You peek up at his face as he gives it a helpless smile and shrugs, “not perfect but... happy birthday.” 

He pushes the pot towards you and you cautiously take it. His large hand brushes yours and you quickly bring the flowers against your stomach, recoiling a step back from the table. His fingers fall onto the table and he taps them. 

“Oh, wait,” he turns once more and digs around, this time in a bag on the top of the table, “Marvita brough these over from her booth.” He takes out a small box and lifts the lid to reveal an array of macarons in a variety of hues, “I can’t eat them all.” he shoves the box at you, “please.” 

You don’t move but Bev eagerly accepts one; a pink one. “Go on,” she urges, “live a little, birthday girl.” 

You scrunch your mouth up and slant it this way, then that. You take a cookie; a green one. As you hug the plant with one arm and retract the other, you remember your manners. A tingle runs through the back of your hand, a memory of those lessons, as the ‘thank you’ tumbles off your tongue. 

You look up and once more your eyes meet. You blanch and swiftly turn away. 

“No problem,” he says brightly, “hey, Bev,” he calls as she goes to shuffle away, “next week?” 

“Eh, I don’t know, my husband’s been on me about the spending,” she laughs, “we’ll see.” 

“Oh yeah, see you then,” he snorts, “you too, I hope.” 

“Uh, bye,” you wave with the cookie and hurry past your aunt. You know he’s talking to you but you can’t face him. He’s just being nice and you won’t be back. 

“I love those, they’re so pretty,” Aunt Bev reaches over to touch the petals, “such a nice man, isn’t he?” 

[tinydefector]

At this point if we're making this a thing the God Rung x MC are we calling this AU MC the God fcker 😂😂😂

Because I imagine after few weeks or months now they'll gonna be comfortable enough to make joke out of it.

Tyrest some how still in the ship: you should pray before I kill you

MC: don't worry I already pray my hands in knees for your god and suck him off

Those who are watching this turn to Rung who's face already blushing red(or blue idk).

Rung avoiding eye contact: >\\\\<

Whirl: eh nice

I love God fucker MC, them being the feisty snappy human to the very sweet Therapist who is God. Got another Rung AU now to add to the Wings of Primus AU.

But I'm also now just thinking about what other human crew think. The number of Virgin Mary jokes. Fuck just the amount of Jokes in general which get thrown their way.

Rungs lover is going about their day blissfully unaware of the chaos that is multiple humans interrogating Rung. Him finally gets a breather and sneaks off to speak with them privately. "I believe the rest of your crew are rather concerned about our relationship " he says while fixing his glasses and trying to not to spook them.

"What have they been telling you now?" They ask with a soft smile when they finally see him. "They seem rather worried about me, umm.. putting a Sparkling in your chamber. " he tries not to wince as he explains the other humans rather crude thoughts.

It makes them tense up before shock and horror flashed across their face. "Ahhh. Don't listen to a word any of them say. Please, they are just trying to get under your plating. I promise they mean nothing by it!" Rung can see the embarrassment in their movements as he tries to calm them down.

"Please, just settle. I just want to know why they would be worried about something like that. One of them mentioned a book of your people, saying something along the 'second coming'?" He's curious but at the same time doesn't want to overstep if it's something rather personal to human kind.

"Ahhh, I'm going to strangle them, next they are going to say I'm Virgin Mary and start making jokes about that around ship" the grumble to themself only for Rung to scoop them up into his arms. "My dear, is there something I've done wrong, I know we talked about my 'issue' but it seems it's slowly becoming something that is causing you trouble" he had his worries even after they continued their relationship after the whole 'Primus incident' as they called it.

"Beloved, please talk to me." His voice is ever soft as he traces his digits across their cheek. They lean into his touch, taking a deep breath and sighing. "Nothing bad, I promise, just stupid Earth religion thing," they start, eyes flicking open to watch him. "Earth has its own collection of religions kinda like Cybertron, one of the stories is about a young woman who gives birth to the son of 'God', I think people are mainly making jokes over the similarities" they slowly explains, it makes Runsg optic flicker as he looks at them stunned.

"Oh my," he murmurs optics flicking down to their stomach, "you're not carrying?" He asked slightly worried only for them to laugh. "No, no I'm not carry handsome, humans like to make rumours tend to make alot more than Cybertronians, I'm more surprised it's only that God they are making jokes about" they tease softly while pressing a kiss to his lips.

His frame seems to relax into the kiss. " I would like to hear some of these stories one day" he hums against their lips. "I'll see if I can find a bible and some other religious text from some others, but just watch out, some fo them might start calling you Zeus" they chuckle. It makes him smile watching how their eyes catch light.

_______

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[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

A Meeting of Brothers, er Cousins

Author’s note: Selkie Squad reporting in! Husbandry AU

Summary: Amaden makes his Debut- and speaks with Oryls. Totally normal interaction with a 'Salamander' and an 'Ultramarine'.

Warnings: None, please let me know if I need to add anything.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @ms--lobotomy , @thevoidscreams, @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

Tagged: @felinisnoctis

Amaden is Forging at the Loyalist base at Gannet point, when he hears the deliberate shuffle of Ceramite touching the stone of the floor and he gets to a stopping point for Forging the item that he's making and he turns towards whoever it is.

"Ah Oryls," Amaden says jovially, "Your commission is coming along nicely. Was there something else that you needed from me, cousin?"

"Thanks for the update on my Commission," Oryls says with a nod and a fond smile, "I'm glad- its going to be a gift for my Bonded."

"Oh? You have a Bonded! Congrats cousin," Amaden says, although there is a flash of jealousy as well.

"... Bond hungry?" Oryls says half teasingly, half sympathetically.

"Ah- well," Amaden says looking back into the fire, "It just... those brothers and cousins who have one seem... usually at least, much happier."

"It is quite the blessing," Oryls says gushingly, like a Bonded Marine does.

Amaden asks, "Do you want to talk about your Bonded some more?"

Oryls nods and his eyes sparkle with joy as he talks about his Lovely Lana- and how wonderful, stubborn, intelligent, and clever she is, among other things.

Amaden is glad that Oryls and his squad have found a human- really he is! He just wishes to be able to Bond to a human, any human, one with a recent Bonded who Rejected them or just... his squad lead picking a person to try and Bond with.

He continues to listen to Oryls chatter on and on about his Bonded while he continues to Forge the gift for Lana. After a few more minutes, Orlys slips something into one of his pockets and leaving with a cheerful goodbye.

Amaden waves him off and continues to Forge the gift and ensure that it's up to specs. Including the hidden trackers that will send information to the HUDs of the Charybdis squad should something happen to their human.

[nekoannie-chan]

Road trip mission

Title: Blood magic.

Fandom: Marvel, Captain America.

Ship: Steve Rogers X STRIKE member!Reader.

Word count: 690 words.

Rating: Teen.

Summary: Steve thinks you hate him, maybe you have feelings for him.

Major Tags: Coworkers to lovers, mention of murder, little spicy, insinuation.

Additional tags: This is my entry to @multifandom-flash, Valentine’s day card & square 1:

"Road trip romance.”

You can read it on Wattpad and Ao3 too.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

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DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

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You were laughing at what Brock was saying as you planned the next mission; however, the smile was wiped off your face when you saw Steve enter the team meeting room. Although his presence there was not unusual, this time the mission was different.

They were to go to different cities, but only one person could accompany them.

The room was filled with murmurs as Steve explained the situation; however, you were ignoring everything he said; the whole team knew it was not to your liking.

“Y/N can go with you," Jack proposed with derision.

“I don't..."

“I think it's perfect; I think Y/N has everything he needs for the mission," Steve said.

After a few minutes, everyone's attention was focused on the map, with the red marks indicating the places where the enemies had attacked. You were standing in a corner, analyzing the information.

Steve approached you and handed you a folder with other details of the mission. “We need to follow them closely. I think they might be heading south, but I'm not entirely sure. I want you to lead this operation.

“I understand. We will find them," you replied.

You would leave the next day; you couldn't deny that you were surprised that Steve didn't want to be the leader of the mission as usual.

You arrived ten minutes before the time Steve had indicated, but he was already there. Without saying a word, he extended his hand to give you the keys to the vehicle. You looked at him with a little distrust and took them. He went to the passenger seat.

You had gone about five hours without saying a word. Why was Steve so complicated and easy to hate?

Sometimes you would pass on the songs; maybe you should ask him if he liked the music you were listening to. No, you would rather murder Jack when you come back; you would get revenge for getting into this mess.

“Why do you hate me?" Steve asked, breaking the silence you had had for almost eight hours.

“I don't hate you; I just don't like you," you answered without taking your eyes off the road. Steve raised an eyebrow. “You're very bossy, even more than Brock."

“Just because of that?"

“Maybe. "

“I like you."

You were silent again for another couple of hours.

Steve noticed your expression of concentration and discomfort and smiled. “Have you ever taken a road trip just for the pleasure of it?"

You shrugged. “I've never had the time for it. There's always a mission, always something to do."

“Well, maybe we should change that. After this mission, we could take some time to enjoy the road. What do you say?"

You smiled. “No. "

Steve kept his smile; he was absolutely sure it would change your mind.

Finally, you arrived at the last known location of the enemies. You didn't even have time to prepare or carry out the plan as you were immediately attacked, yet you managed to make the mission a success.

When you realized you had won, Steve took your face in his hands and kissed you. After a few seconds, you separated, looked at each other, and now you kissed him.

“Well, leader, how do you like the idea of a road trip now?"

“Okay, it's a plan. But first, we should rest and take the report. And of course, celebrate that the mission was a success." You changed your tone of voice a little, hoping that Steve had understood what you meant.

“I saw a small hotel on the way; we could stop there," he said.

“I hope there are rooms available," you commented with a mischievous smile.

“I think one is enough for us; I hope you don't mind sharing a bed." Steve tried to sound innocent.

“Maybe we'll have a lot of fun."

You got into the car; this time he would drive; you settled in the passenger seat; and as you drove, you looked at the stars. After all, what you felt for Steve wasn't hate, and you were going to make sure you had a good time before heading back.

[marleyelona]

RIDE OR DIE (THE PRESIDENT'S DAUGHTER)

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sons of Anarchy. All rights go to Kurt Sutter, FX and any others that made this amazing show possible. I do, however, own my character, Letitia Morrow, and any other OCs I might add in the future, along with their backstories and their storylines within the show.

GRAPHICS: I MAKE the gifs that are used throughout this book. On occasion I will use gifs I find on google, which I will clarify. Any gifs I haven't made, all rights of those should go to the rightful creators. I also DO the aesthetics, covers, tags and trailers that are made. Please do not steal them. HOWEVER most of the images you see in this book are made by A.I imaging unless stated otherwise.

WARNING (Mature Audience Only)⚠️: violence, murder, gore, coarse language, mental health issues, domestic violence, drug and alcohol use, and detailed sex scenes will appear in this book. If any of these are a trigger for you, please take caution if you decide to continue. 

[ RIDE OR DIE! ]

Prologue

A Trunk Full of Problems

[Pre-Season One]

" There are two sides to my daughter; the angelic side of her mother and the devious side of me. And you never know which side you're gonna get from one moment to the next. She can switch just like that. "

~ CLAY MORROW to JUICE ORTIZ

☆《》¤

CAST

Emmy Rossum as Letitia Morrow

Penn Badgley as Lewis Mckenna 

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TRIGGER WARNING⚠️: Mentions of domestic abuse, a shooting, minor gore and some coarse language.

☆《》¤ 

LETTY'S CAR

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LETTY'S OUTFIT

☆《》¤ 

LETTY'S TATTOOS

☆《》¤

A TWENTY ONE YEAR OLD LETITIA MORROW sped down the highway so fast if she took a wide corner her car would most likely turn over. Apart of her was dreading seeing the 'Welcome to Charming' sign. Letty or Lett, as she was called by many of the small town's residences, speed increased, while tears streamed down her beaten and bruised face. A dark purplish bruise hung under her left eye, her bright cherry lips had grown two sizes too big, as blood oozed out of the corner of her mouth. 

Pressing her foot down on the gas, made her engine let out a loud roar, as a sob escaped her lips when she aggressively rubbed her blood stained hands onto her ripped jeans. Her tears continued to flow like a tap, as the memories of the night prior flashed through her mind like an old movie projector. 

A blood curdling scream echoed in her ears, as she gasped, her eyes shot wide open at the sight of a car inches away from colliding with her front bumper, their bright head lights shinning into her eyes, almost blinding the brunette. 

Her shaky hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, as she turned it, managing to dodge the oncoming car without damaging her beautiful mustang - Thank God or her dad would have killed her. 

The car was in fact her baby. She received him on her sixteenth birthday from her father, who just so happened to be the President of Samcro, Clay Morrow. 

Her father and her had a complicated relationship, childhood worth of resentment hung heavy for Letty, and she was just as stubborn as him, so any chance she got, she liked to remind him how much he wasn't there for her growing up. Sometimes they were too similar, because of this, they constantly butted heads. But at the end of the day they loved each other deeply and were very protective over one another - they would quite literally kill for each other. 

Admittedly, it had been a few years since Letty had been back to Charming, she had moved pretty quickly after she graduated from high school, not wanting to end up some Sons' old lady like Gemma. God, she loved that woman like a mother, but she did not want to turn out like her. 

Gemma and Letty had a close relationship. Letty's mother died in 1987 during an emergency c-section. And when her father married Gemma, she became mum to her, as she had helped raise her pretty much since birth, making her the woman she is today. 

Gemma was the one person Letty was worried to see, as she headed towards the club house. After she left, they had talked on the phone a few times here and there, but it wasn't the same. Gemma didn't fully support her leaving town, so she wasn't excited about the lecture she would mostly definitely receive when they came face to face again after three years. 

Her eyes travelled to the back seat of her car at the many bags she stuffed inside, knowing she couldn't return to her house in Los Angeles, not after what happened the night prior with her boyfriend of three years, who she met during her freshman year of college, where she went onto complete a diploma in nursing. 

That was probably the hardest thing about her decision to race back home to Charming, having to quit a job she loved with people she loved. But she was sure she'd be able to pick up a nursing job at the hospital easy, as they always seem to be short staffed. 

As she passed the out dated 'Welcome to Charming' sign, which hadn't been updated since she was born, maybe even longer, a cold chill ran down her spine. She wonder what the small town of Charming would have in stall for this next chapter of her life. Because one thing was for sure, Charming was never boring, there was always something happening, whether it was good or bad that was up for interpretation. 

Sure, she was happy to see her old friends and family. There was Jax and Opie, who were like her older brothers growing up. Before she had left she got pretty close with Opie's wife Donna, while Opie was inside. Donna actually helped Letty look for colleges far away from Charming and Samcro, thinking if she couldn't get out of the crippling town herself and away from the toxicity of the club, she'd want someone to, who else more deserving than the sweetheart that was Letty Morrow. 

She'd love to see all the boys again. Chibs, Bobby, Tig and Piney were all in the waiting room of the maternity ward when Letita Loraine Morrow was brought into this world. They all actually got kicked out for smoking a couple fat cigars. A story that was continuously told throughout her life, the boys thought it was pretty funny, mainly trying to shine some light on the day they lost a good woman, Loraine Morrow, the most caring woman you'd ever meet, a trait her daughter inherited. 

Letty was close with them all, but Chibs was like a second father to her, so even when her dad wasn't around much when she was a kid, Chibs was there to fill that emptiness in her heart. 

Piney was someone she loved to call her crazy grandpa, she had actually went to calling him Pops or Poppy at a young age. 

And Bobby and Tig were like her eccentrically crazy uncles that would willingly get her plastered, partying right into the night together - she loved them to death. 

As Letty finally pulled into Teller-Morrow Automotive Repair Shop, that was used as a front for their motorcycle club's dealings, she gave herself a small pep talk inside her head, 'It's going to be okay. Sure, you haven't seen most of these people in years, but you got this. It'll be fine'. In fact, she was so deep in her own thoughts and still pretty hysterical, that she didn't realise how far she actually drove into the large compound and before she knew it...BANG! 

☆《》¤  

A loud CRASH! Followed by a continuous horn caught the Sons' attention from inside the Chapel. Like any other day, the boys sat around the table discussing current business, before they were oh-so-rudely interrupted. 

Instantly, they were all on their feet, their senses on high alert, because when you were apart of a motorcycle club that did questionable dealings, you should always expect the worst. Each member had a hand clamped around their gun that sat on their hips; ready to draw it if need be. 

Clay Morrow held up a hand, signalling from them all to stay put. Placing a finger to his lips, he motioned with his head for them to quietly follow him outside. 

Making it outside and around the back of the large compound, they all noticed the familiar red mustang, which had clearly crashed into the garage sliding door. 

"Jesus Christ!" Clay hissed under his breath, running hand through his white-blonde hair, as he released his grip from his glock. Jax Teller, Chibs Telford, Bobby Munson, Piney Winston, Tig Trager and Opie Winston, followed suit, relaxing slightly. Although, both Juice Ortiz and Half-Sack Epps were still clearly on high alert - what the hell was going on? 

Concern and worry had washed over the older members' faces, Clay being the first one to rush over to the car. But all of them sighed in relief when the driver's side door opened and a girl with long, brown, curly hair stepped out of the vehicle. Juice and Half-sack had held back; having no idea what was happening. 

"Daddy!" Letty immediately broke down at the sight of her father, instantly running into his arms and soaking his chest with tears, as she sobbed. And as Juice watched the scene unfold, he felt a small pang in his heart for the poor girl. 

Clay pulled back, holding the woman at arms length, as he cupped her beautiful face. And once Juice finally got a good look at her features, his jaw almost hit the floor. She was hot. No, not hot...Gorgeous. He honestly thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his whole life. And he had been with his fair share of beautiful women, but not one of them held a candle to Letty Morrow.

"Honey, what happened--?" Clay started to ask, before his face fell, noticing the state she was in and the bruises that scattered her entire body, not just her face. "Did he beat you again?" Clay's whole face turned murderous, as he tightly gripped his daughter's shoulders, which made her wince in pain. 

All the girl managed was a nod of her head, which only angered Clay more. 

"I'm gonna fucking kill him!" the man clenched his fists, as he started to storm towards his bike, but Letty was quick to grab his arm. 

"No! You're not going anywhere," she declared, sending her father a stern look. 

Yanking his arm back, he glared at his only daughter, "Don't tell me what I'm gonna fucking do. He put his hands on you, baby!" 

"I understand that," she said, matching his tone. If the situation wasn't so serious the boys would of had a laugh at how quickly father and daughter had started arguing. It was always said, 'You can't have Clay and Letty in the same room for too long or a storm would brew'. 

Clay went to open his mouth to argue once again, but Letty cut him off and continued with what she was saying, "That's why I took care of it," she said in a tone of voice that gave nothing away, her face even remained solemn, so you couldn't even read her facial expressions to guess what she meant by that statement. 

Clay furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, "What does that even mean?" he slightly snapped, throwing his hands up in frustration. 

"I came here because I need your help," she stated, making her way over to her car, Clay and the boys followed after her as she started to unlock her boot. Pulling the door open, the boys leaned over to look inside and their eyes widened at the sight of a man all tied up with a gun shot wound on his lower region, his blood staining the lining of the boot. 

"You stupid fucking bitch!" Lewis Mckenna hissed, glaring bloody murder at his girlfriend of three years, as he thrusted around, trying to get free from the tight binds. "You actually fucking shot me! Oh, my God, you shot me in the dick!" he cried, looking down at his wounded genitals that oozed with blood. 

While amusement was clear on the older members' faces, Juice and Half-Sack were watching on, completely confused, but also very intrigued, watching this all play out like it was a brand new movie at the cinemas. All they were missing was popcorn. 

"And I should of done worse, you fucking cock sucker!" she sneered, shooting daggers with her eyes at her latest ex-boyfriend. 

A growl sounded from the back of Lewis' throat, as his glared up at her hatefully, "I'm going to fucking kill, you crazy bitch--!" 

The guy's threat was cut short by an elbow to the face, knocking him out cold, "That's enough out of," Jax smirked, owner of said elbow, earning him a chuckle from the girl that was basically his sister, they gave each other enough wedgies growing up to justify that. 

"As you can see..." she said to her father, putting on her best, 'I'm sweet and innocent' look "...I fucked up." 

"Yeah, you should of went for the head," Clay hissed, looking at the man in complete disgust, like he was the piece of gum under his shoe. 

"I thought it showed creativity," Letty pouted like a five year old who was just refused ice cream for dinner, crossing her arms over her chest. "So sue me," she shrugged nonchalantly. 

"I thought it was pretty creative, darlin'," Tig stated with that somewhat sinister smirk of his. "Take away a man's equipment -Worse and most painful punishment there is." 

"Thanks, Tigga," she said, sending the man a kind smile. Her nickname for Tig came from when she was a toddler and just learning to say a few words here and there, so when Tig tried to teach her his name or his nickname, she kept just getting excited repeatedly yelling her favourite cartoon character's name and the nickname just stuck ever since. 

Clay shot his Sergeant in Arms a glare, "Don't encourage her," he scolded. 

Tig raised his hands in mock-surrender, "Hey! She's your daughter."

Clay's glare sharpened at his words, making him take a step back, his hands still raised, "That's all I'm saying." 

"Letty?!" the voice of Gemma Teller-Morrow sounded from behind the girl. The woman had stepped out of the office to investigate what the commotion was all about, she didn't recognise the woman at first, squinting her eyes, as she blocked out the sun's UV rays with her hand. And that's when she saw it, the face she hadn't seen in nearly three whole years. One she'd recognise from a mile away.

Letty was quick to whip her head around and a smile immediately graced her face as she spotted Gemma striding over to her in a quick pace. 

"Well, well, well, look at what the cat dragged in," chuckled Gemma, as she reached the girl, looking at her fondly. 

"Gemma," Letty beamed, bringing the woman into a hug. 

"Gemma?" the woman frowned in confusion as they parted. "What happened to Mum?" she questioned, tilting her head to the side, as she raised an eyebrow, staring the girl down. "Been gone too long, you forgot who raised your skinny ass," she teased, cupping the girl's chin as she gave her face a playful shake. "Huh?" 

Letty chuckled, shaking her head amusingly, "Never." 

Gemma smiled, wrapping her arm around her step-daughter's shoulders, before leading her back over to her car and examined the contents of her boot, a hum leaving her lips, "This is the boyfriend I'm guessing?" 

"Ex-boyfriend," Letty corrected. 

"Well, they can't say you don't know how to make an entrance." 

"Well, you know..." she said, shrugging nonchalantly. "I gotta keep the old man on his toes," she said, flashing her father a cheeky smirk, as she sent him a wink, earning a playful glare in response.

Gemma let out a loud chuckle, snapping her head back in amusement, "Well, what do you say, why don't we leave the boys to clean up this mess you created, and you and I grab a cuppa and catch up?" she asked, as she started to guide the girl back over to her father's office. "It's been so long. I've missed you around here, baby!" Gemma beamed happily, as she rubbed her shoulders - glad her daughter was back. 

"Yeah, I've missed you guys, too," Letty said, and it was true, she did. She never wanted to leave the people. She wanted to leave the club and small town life behind. 

Meanwhile, Juice was in a hypnotic state, his eyes watching Letty closely as she walked away, he was practically drooling over her, "She's beautiful, isn't she?" he whispered to Half-Sack in a monotone voice. Juice didn't think about who was around at that moment, as the words slipped from his lips. 

"Yeah," Half-Sack rapidly nodded his head in agreement, while he was actually drooling over her and had to readjust the spring in his jeans. "Hard to think she came from Clay," he chuckled. 

"Hey!" Clay whacked both the zombie like boys on the back of the head.

"Ow!" they both hissed simultaneously, rubbing the back of their heads. 

"Both of your ugly mugs better not be thinking what I think your thinking about," he warned, pointing a stern finger in their faces. 

"Hell no, sir" Half-Sack immediately uttered, his eyes awkwardly finding his feet when he looked away from the girl, not knowing where else to look in the mean time. 

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Clay shot back with narrowed eyes. 

"Damn," Juice whistled, his eyes still locked on the girl, who was now inside, sipping a coffee as she talked with Gemma, still visible through the window, as he remained in his hypnotic state. 

"Oh, Juicy Boy," Tig chuckled amusingly, coming over to wrap his arm over the boy's shoulders, giving him a light pat. "She's gonna chew you up and spit you out." 

"Ain't that the truth," Opie agreed, shaking his head in amusement - Juice could not handle a girl like Letty Morrow, not in the slightest. Stronger men have tried and let's just say, it didn't end well for them. 

Clay joyfully chuckled, finding the boy's crush on his daughter kind of hilarious, knowing she had no interest in dating a Son. He would have applied the rule when she turned eighteen himself, but she had already stated she would never date one of his 'brothers' way before that. 

"There are two sides to my daughter; the angelic side of her mother and the devious side of me. And you never know what side you're gonna get from one moment to the next. She can switch just like that," he said, clicking his fingers together, as a sinister smirk tugged at the corner his lips. "So, this should be fun to watch, aye, boys?" he mocked, as they all roared with laughter. 

Poor Juice had no idea what he was getting himself into; swooning over the President's daughter. 

☆《》¤ 

Originally Published on Wattpad on the 10/03/2024

A/N:

Please not, all Images were created by Bing's AI generator. Although, the title tag at the top was made by me.

Let me know what you thought of the Prologue to my Sons of Anarchy Fanfiction - Ride or Die.

Marley 😁

Words: 3182

[vocaloidsongpoll]

this blog is for seeing how well-known certain vocaloid songs are! but mostly, it's just for fun :)

song submissions are open!!! if you submit a song, you'll be tagged in the post, but you can submit anonymously if you want!

there's no limit to how many songs you can submit and there's no right or wrong way to submit a song! with that said, i do appreciate direct links to videos and any triggers to look out for in the videos so i can tag them appropriately, but these aren't required for submissions!

at the moment, i'm not looking for any particular vocalists to be submitted, so just submit whatever song(s) you would like to see posted!

polls are posted about 5 times every day now, so if you don't see your submission right away, it's still in the queue!

as of april 16th, there are about 90 songs in the queue (18 days worth of songs), so please be patient if you don't see your submitted song right away! much appreciated!! <3

WARNING!!! my blog has videos with flashing imagery. please take care in browsing! the tags i currently use are:

for general flashing imagery: flashing lights, flashing

for imagery with highly saturated colors: eyestrain

for imagery with glitching effects: glitch

for imagery with shaking effects: shaking images

the tags i use for other sensitive content are:

for suicidal ideation/self harm: suicide, suicidal ideation, suicide mention, self harm, self harm mention

for disturbing content: unsettling, disturbing

my blog also tags for: graphic violence, sexual assault, cannibalism, necrophilism, abuse, child abuse, child death, animal violence, screeching sound, loud noise, drug usage, gender dysphoria

please let me know if i forget to tag something appropriately! i want everyone to have a safe listening experience here!

we now also have a youtube playlist featuring all of the songs posted here!

general content warnings: flashing images, mild nsfw content, themes of self-harm or suicide, and more. basically if you can think of a triggering topic, chances are it is (or eventually will be) on this playlist, so just be aware of that going into it <3

we now also have two spotify playlists!

this first one is for songs that i could find exact matches for. there should only be original vocaloid songs in there, but this does mean that it's missing a good chunk of songs.

this second one is identical to the first one, except i put in the closest match to the missing vocaloid songs that i could find. for instance, since i couldn't find an exact match of "game of life" sung by hatsune miku, i put in a cover sung by sick2. the first playlist doesn't have "game of life" at all, unfortunately, because as far as i can tell it's not on spotify.

unfortunately both playlists are missing 60+ songs because they're either exclusive to youtube or i wasn't able to find it on spotify. if you see a song is missing on there that you know is on spotify, please let me know so i can add it to the playlists!

thanks for the support, y'all! <3

[theheartwhumpswhatitwhumps]

I saw you were taking whump requests!! Could you maybe do something where Whumpee is injured but is still trying to go on missions so Caretaker has to sedate them for their own good???

Sorry this took so long. I've been working on a book and all my time goes into 1) my job and 2) the book, which for the time being is an unpaid second job. But here it is at last!

Let's sedate some whumpees!!

--

cw // sedation w/ fade to black, sedation for whumpee's sake, dizziness, referenced past physical trauma (broken bones, beating), medical language, bad(??) caretaker

(as always, please let me know kindly if there are tags I miss and I will add them)

--

"Any questions?"

Leader crosses his arms and watches the team digest the mission plan. Silence doesn't settle over the room so much as turn in restless circles like an anxious dog.

Everyone wonders if they should be the one to speak up. Of course there are questions. Or, at least one. Only one that matters.

Is Whumpee really coming along?

No one looks at Whumpee, sitting straight-backed in their seat, arm free of its sling a week too early. The bruises on their cheeks and neck are long faded, but under a careful eye, a yellow tinge still lingers beneath the surface. Stitches weren't enough to make up for the small chunk missing from their bottom left, leaving it misshapen. Thanks to Healer's handiwork, Whumpee is in much better shape than they could be (or should be), but no where near completely healed.

Leader looks at each team member one by one. One by one, they feel his gaze, and Leader watches every pair of eyes drift toward Whumpee's chair. This plan hinges on everyone playing their part to the letter. No room for screw ups. No room for weak links.

Healer bounces a knee beneath the table. In the cool light, her eyes flash almost threateningly.

Finally, Leader looks to Whumpee, who returns his gaze with unwavering determination.

"No questions," they say, as resolute as a charging chariot.

--

The team is dismissed to prepare for the mission at hand. In the hallway, Healer catches Leader by the crook of his arm, her fury barely reined.

"You cannot be serious."

Leader looks down at Healer's hand, raising an eyebrow. "About?"

"Don't you dare." Healer's voice is more than angry. It's vengeful. "Whumpee should never have been in the field in the first place. They weren't ready and you knew it. But you sent them anyway."

Leader wrenches his arm free. Rather, Healer lets him loose. She can't stand to touch him anymore.

"Whumpee has skills I needed to utilize. What happened was a terrible accident--"

"They were almost killed."

Leader huffs something almost like laughter. "I'm not the bad guy here. We all know the risks. This is a job like any other, and if they can't stand the heat--"

"Listen to me. Whumpee's bones are barely healed. They haven't passed a single stress test since....since it happened. They're too weak to be of any use." Harsh, maybe, but Healer can't afford to be sensitive when Whumpee's life could be on the line. "If they get into trouble, there may not be any getting out. Not like last time."

I may not be able to fix them like last time.

Leader walks away but Healer is right on his heels. "Their role is a stationary one," Leader says, unperturbed. "Very little chance of trouble finding them from a surveillance van. If they want to back out, they need only say the word."

Fury ablaze, Healer steps in front of Leader, blocking his path. She ignores how a dangerous look flashes across his face. "Whumpee would step in front of a moving train if you told them to. To prove that they could. To make you proud. Don't you dare take advantage of that. They are not your soldier."

More than his usual annoyance, the new look on Leader's face puts Healer at unease. But she stands her ground, refusing to step aside. It's not a look of anger, of indignation at her disrespect. It's thoughtfulness. Like he's just been handed a fun new toy. Like he can't wait to see what it can do.

"Loyalty," he says, and the way the word rolls off his tongue makes Healer's stomach drop, "is a valuable gift. To give, and to be given. Whumpee's loyalty makes them an incredibly important asset to the team....and you're right, Healer. You're absolutely right. Whumpee should be safeguarded, given time to heal and regain their strengths. Effective immediately, they're suspended from the mission."

Healer can't find it in herself to be relieved. There's a caveat coming, she can feel it.

Leader lays a heavy hand on her shoulder, and her stomach drops. "We'll be leaving in an hour. Best give Whumpee one more check up, don't you think?"

--

Excitement runs hot and electric through Whumpee as they practically run to the medical wing. Time for another mission, but more than that. A second chance.

They knock on the examination room door, but don't wait for permission to enter. At this point, this room is as familiar to them as their own quarters. They've spent the better part of a month inside these sterile white walls under Healer's masterful hands.

Healer works at the counter, her back to Whumpee.

"You can't seem to get rid of me, doc!" They hop on the examination table, jarring their sore arm, but they don't let on how much it hurts. They've been practicing.

Craning their neck, they try to peer over Healer's shoulder but can't catch a glimpse of her work. Their thoughts swiftly drift to the mission, and their eyes to the anatomical posters hanging around the room. Skeletal system, nervous system, muscular, endocrine. Diagrams of the human brain. Healer had shown Whumpee what was happening in their body when she healed them from Villain's beatdown, how her powers combined with the medicine she prescribed facilitated almost miraculous repairs.

"Whip up some of your magic so I can get out of here!" Whumpee pinches a corner off the paper covering the exam table. "I still need to get my things ready. Lots to do. I didn't pack enough snacks last time. Or gauze." They shake away the memories. This time, they'll be more careful.

"I just want to make sure you're all set for field work," Healer says. Something clatters on the counter. "Can't be too careful."

Whumpee slowly flexes their sore arm, rolling their eyes. If there's one thing they've learned about Healer through all this, it's that she's inhumanly thorough. No stone unturned, no ailment untreated. Her attention to detail combined with unmatched empathy made her a good medic. The best Whumpee has ever seen, actually. And she tells it straight, the good and the bad, no lies to spare your feelings. Whumpee knows her tough love is the real reason why they've healed so quickly from the worst beating they've ever survived.

"Leader seems to think I'm ready to get back out there. I've got an important role in the plan. You heard him, he said--"

"Leader isn't your doctor."

Healer's voice was hard edges and ice. Whumpee had heard that voice before, usually when she found out that they'd been negelcting physical therapy. Whumpee felt themself shrink a bit in their seat, disappointed to have been a disappointment.

Healer exhales a slow breath, her back and shoulders deflating until she, too, seems smaller where she stands. "But…he believes in you. You've made a lot of progress. I'm very proud of you. You’re gonna do great."

Healer turns around and walks to where Whumpee, ever the model patient, sits on the cushioned table. In one hand she holds a bottle of water, and in the other, she pinches a small paper cup between her fingers. At the bottom, two blue tablets lay like pale snapdragon petals.

She holds out the water and cup. "Down the hatch."

"What's this?" Whumpee asks, but takes both from her.

Healer adjusts the pillow at the head of the table, hair obstructing her eyes. “Pain relief.”

Easy enough, Whumpee knocks the pills back. With the water, they go down smoothly. “That’s it then?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

Thrill rushes through them. Back in the field. Another chance to prove their skill. Their capability. Their worth.

Leader believes in me, they think. Healer is proud of me. They don’t know which is the sweeter thought.

They jump from the table, mind already back in their room, gathering up what they need for the mission. No sooner do their shoes touch the tile floor than that shock of thrill turns cold, then fuzzy warm, and then the lights are too bright. And the room is tilting.

“Woah—”

Their knees buckle beneath them. They reach for something to catch but it’s too late. They’re already falling and the world is out of reach.

Strong arms scoop them up. “Easy does it.” Healer’s voice.

“Healer, I…I feel…”

“I know.”

Grotesque diagrams of flayed human bodies warp beneath the harsh lights. There is something here, in this room where safety could once be trusted. Something wrong.

The horrible images all slide away, replaced by a cold, rectangular sun. Healer is somewhere, close and distant, laying them back on the table with arms too long. Softness embraces their head but Whumpee finds no comfort in it.

Half of what they mean to say is lost, butchered as it passes through the sieve of their tongue and teeth. “Healer...(help)...I'm...(feeling)...wrong."

“Shh, I know.”

Sharp metal gleams on the border of their sight but when they turn to see what instruments of pain and horror await, there are only blurred silver sheets where tables once were, and Healer’s sad eyes.

Then Whumpee understands. And they know they’d take ten broken bones over betrayal's deep, hollow pain.

Maybe there were real words on their tongue, or a scream, or a curse, but all that comes out is a high whimper—weak, pathetic, helpless—that follows them into sleep.

[littleladymab]

OC in 15

HELLO NEW TAG GAME tagged by @wintherlywords thank you!

Rules: Share 15 lines of dialogue from an OC that capture their character, personality, or vibe. Bonus points for using dialogue without other scene details, but you’re free to include those as well!

Sorry for any of the formatting looking funky I gotta run but wanted to get this up before heading off to gaming!

I'm doing this for Best Girl Ayn Starling -- it's a combination of stuff from her POV, her texts, the blog she writes, and from other character's POV

Please consider this an open tag!

“What makes you think I know?” Both Ming and Carmel give me A Look, and I release a sigh and an overly dramatic shrug. “Okay, so, I do, but I don’t like that you automatically assume that I do.” 

If it’s a come-on, he’s getting docked for such an obvious line. He is handsome though, in a sort of I played Hamlet in a college production sort of way, with dark, artfully styled hair, amber eyes that look like they could use another dose of caffeine, and tinted glasses perched on a broad, flat nose. Not to mention, he’s somehow managing to pull off all black without making it look weird, even though his natural tan speaks of an indoor pallor.  Oh, yeah, he’s definitely the type to hold a skull and Alas, poor Yorick me. It’s fine, I could be into it.

I would be that person in the library until they have to drag me out kicking and screaming. Silently, of course, because it’s still a library. 

From: Ayn Starling  I understand that, but I’m also going to ask that you respect me as a person and consider, maybe, answering me properly.  From: Ayn Starling  Maybe not now, and not about this, but at one point.  From: Ayn Starling  I’ll let you decide what to do about Zone because you’re right, he isn’t my concern.  From: Ayn Starling  Everything else is up to you.

“Christ, I hope that there’s not more than one Jonas Quinn.”

“I turned thirteen and you gave me some of your whiskey. You told her that you thought it would be funny.”

And, with equal angelic poise, Ayn answers, “Of course not. I don’t think you peg many women.” 

“Holy shit, Lysander, she made me do them until I left the house. I know she had her own plans for you when you lived with us, trying to clean you up and turn you into a functioning member of society and all that, but I was being groomed to be a miniature version of her. She was probably secretly arranging a marriage between one of my father’s coworker’s sons or something.”

 My fellow citizens: We speak for those who cannot. The voice of the hallows and haunts. The voice of the abandoned, the lost, the forgotten — all hope abandon ye who enter here.  We will not be silenced. We will not be cowed, corralled, cornered.

“Someone is calling out ALICE — specifically, the Program Manager — on their approach to the game,” Ayn adds. She turns to Fletcher, eager, since he understood her reference. “We were promised a way out of this city, right? Then why play a game when they should be that benevolent being and let us go without having to participate in their missions?”

“I thought...” The fingers of her free hand drum over the ceramic surface of the mug, revealing the logo in flashes. “I thought that I could be good enough for you this time.”

“Do you think what we’re doing is even worth it?” Her hand lifts and gestures to the shop around us — to the rest of Eminence. “Meliora. This is beyond you and me, I think. We never... We are two different shapes that tried to fit together.”

“I thought it was obvious, Darling,” she says with a pretty smile that is altogether very sweet and dangerous. “I want the people of Eminence to start fighting back.”

“I’m mad because we’re still fighting. Are you angry because I’m not wearing any pants?” 

Having chosen to participate in Meliora has proven to ALICE, to Patrick Mercer, to everyone reading this blog, that you were worthy. Not only of the truth or a way out, but worthy of being able to make your own choices.  You made the right decision, whatever it was.  No matter what has happened over these past few months, never, ever, regret that. 

[shingekinosimpson]

You Had Me At B Minor: Chapter 13

First | Previous

Pairing: Jean Kirschtein x Marco Bodt

Other relationships: Reibert, Springles, Historia x Ymir, Levi x Hange, a smidge of Jearmin

Rating: Mature

Summary: Jean's band needs a new bass player. Cue freckled Jesus.

Warnings/tags: Long fic, slow burn, Jean POV, friends to lovers, British AU with cannon locations, northern Jean, Unsigned band AU, nonbinary Armin, I promise there will be smut eventually! drinking, mentions of death, descriptions of domestic violence, panic attacks, see start of each chapter for more specific trigger warnings

******************************************************************  

Trigger warnings: n/a

Who am I, darling to you? Who am I? Going to tell you stories of mine Who am I?

Oh, who am I, darling for you? Who am I? Could be a burden in time, lonely Who am I, to you?

And who am I, darling for you? Who am I? Will be a burden Who am I, darling to you? Who am I?

“I got the job!”

“Wh-what??”

“I got the job!!”

“Yes!! Shit that’s amazing, I knew you would!”

“I didn’t! I thought my lesson went a bit wrong but they said I had lots of good things in there and they really liked how I was with the kids and…fuck. I can’t believe I actually got it!”

God I could listen to his voice all day.

I may not have seen Marco as much as I would like this week – nowhere near as much – but I’ve heard that voice plenty. So much so that I swear I can hear the difference between a small smile and a big smile. And let me tell you, that is a wide-ass fucking grin Marco is sporting right now.

Probably matches the one I’m wearing. I’m so fucking pleased for him. The number of times this poor guy’s rang me this week in a total stress and in need of a distraction has almost reached double figures. Not that I mind in the slightest. Although it was pretty eye-opening finding out how much pressure Marco puts on himself, how desperately he wants a steady job so he can give more support to his mam and sister. Even though I’m sure they’d be the first to tell him not to worry. It's a big relief knowing he can stop stressing so much now.

“I’m so fucking happy for you. What did your mam say when you told her? Did she scream in Italian like you said?”

“I haven’t told her yet. I literally just got off the phone with the head teacher. She probably will though.”

“…So…am I the first person you’ve told?”

“Erm, yeah,” he chuckles. “I guess.” It’s a good job I’m sitting down, otherwise that information might’ve floored me. A flush of heat rushes over my cheeks and chest and I grip my phone a little tighter, coyly chewing my lip. He just landed a permanent job and the first thing he does is ring me.

“I mean, you did say to ring you as soon as I heard,” Marco adds.

“Damn right I did!”

“Though now you mention it, I probably should give my mum a ring,” he says with a nervous laugh.

“Probably. I’ll speak to you later though yeah?”

“Yeah okay. Later then.”

“Later. And well done again. You’re gonna be amazing I know it.”

“O-okay.” That’s definitely his blushing voice. “Speak soon.”

As soon as he hangs up, I start typing a message.

HeresJeany:

By the way I am 100% taking you out for food tomorrow to celebrate! :P

He still hasn’t taken up my offer from last week, with him being so busy and all. I hope he doesn’t already have plans.

_________________________________

I've just chucked some chips and fish fingers in the oven (I can't be arsed to cook a proper meal) when my phone starts to ring, the picture of me and Marco where I look like a pineapple flashing up on the screen.

“It's like you knew I was making a fish finger sandwich. Well the answer is no, you can't have any.”

“Aw not even a bite?” he asks, snickering at my blunt greeting.

“Nope. All for me.”

He hums through another chuckle before speaking. “Soooo about food tomorrow. Do you want the good news or the bad news?”

“Err, both I guess?” Okay, I know we're going away to Dauper in like, two days, but I'll still be gutted if he's not free for food. I am seriously craving some Marco time, especially after how touchy-feely he was the last time we hung out together. “What's up?"

“So the good news is we can have food tomorrow.”

Phew!

“Bad news is my mum is going all out cooking a family meal and she is absolutely insisting that you join us.”

What?

“Which basically means you don't have a choice.”

“Err...okay?”

The tips of my ears prickle with nervous energy. Family dinners always fill me with a sense of dread, especially since that disastrous one with Hitch a couple of years ago. I know there's no way Marco's family would be like them, and I've already met Mia but still, there's a formality to these things that sets me on edge.

“You sure? You don't actually have to I was only kidding…but my mum is really keen to meet my friends and... I’d really like it if you came.”

Oh fuck. His voice sounded really adorable there.

“N-no that sounds great! Tell her thanks for the invite that's really nice of her. So erm, what time should I come over?”

“Is six okay?”

“Yeah fine. Do you want me to bring anything or...Oh what do I need to wear? Do I need to wear something smart?”

He barks a laugh at that question. “No absolutely not. Wear anything you like. Though maybe don't risk the Moomin Vans or I might steal them.”

“Haha, okay.”

“Okay. I'll let you get back to your fish fingers.” His voice sounds so gorgeous I kind of don't want him to. “Speak to you later.”

“Okay later then. Bye.”

“Bye Jean.”

_________________________________

I pull the handbrake and toot the horn when I get to Marco's. After finding out he was planning to get the bus, I absolutely insisted on picking him up.

Butterflies are already starting to flip in my stomach in anticipation of seeing him. On one hand, I cannot wait to hang out with him again (it’s pretty much all I’ve thought about the last few days), but I won’t lie, the coward in me wants to run for the hills.

Last weekend was just so…I don’t even know how to describe it. I still have to pinch myself whenever I think about it. The way he was with me felt different. All the touching and blushing. There was just so much fucking joy in his eyes and in his laugh and I felt like I was a big part of that…maybe even the cause of that.

There have been moments when I’ve felt certain of that fact, to the point where I daydream telling him how I feel – what I’ll say, where I’ll say it, what he might say back…But then there have been other moments…moments where I’ve imagined Marco pulling away from me, backtracking on his affections and playing it all off as a bit of fun or drunken silliness…

The front door opens and I look over, my stomach landing with a ker-thump…

Wait, what the actual fuck???

I roll the window down as fast as I can while my eyes start bugging out of my head. “Marco what the hell!?”

WHY?? Why is he wearing a blazer with a fucking shirt and tie!?

He turns to me looking perplexed. “What?”

“What d'you mean 'WHAT'? Why are you dressed like that? You said I didn't have to dress up!”

“I’m not dressed up. I’m just dressed for a family meal. I thought it was obvious you needed to dress like this,” he says sounding a bit hurt.

“Of course it's not obvious! Why do you think I asked!? Shit, I need to go home and get changed. I don't even know if-”

Marco doubles over and starts howling with laughter.

“Oh my god,” he chokes with his hands on his knees. “Your face! Could you be anymore freaked out?”

He descends into wheezy chuckles again holding his stomach.

“Oh my god. You bastard.”

“I'm sorry. I just thought it was cute when you asked about wearing something smart and I couldn't resist.”

My grumpiness can't help but lessen at the word ‘cute’. Not to mention how cute he looks giggling away at me.

“I'll go get changed. Two seconds,” he says turning back.

That little shit. As if he actually came out dressed like that just to mess with me. At least I get a nice view of his arse in smart pants and his nipped in waist as I watch him retreat.

“If you don't come down here looking like a hobo, I'm gonna be seriously pissed!”

I’m treated to one more cheeky smile as he closes the door. My smile stretches so wide my cheeks ache. Fuck. I like him so much.

When he returns, he's definitely dressed way down compared to before but that does nothing to stop my butterflies making themselves known again, twirling and somersaulting like they’re caught in a tornado. He's wearing ripped black skinny jeans and a grey Superdry hoody. That's it. That's literally it. But christ does he look fucking sexy. His thighs and his shoulders and oh my god he just turned to lock the door and look at his arse nnggghhhhh!!

“Better?” he asks with a sunshine smile as he practically skips towards the car.

“Much better,” I answer honestly.

He buckles up and we set off with only ten minutes to spare.

“I am absolutely blaming you if we’re late,” I huff.

“We won't be late. Why are you getting so stressed?” Marco asks with an amused look.

“Because I don't want to make a shit impression.”

“You're really that bothered?”

“Of course I am, they're your family.”

There's a weight to those words I wish wasn't there. Marco considers me from the passenger seat, a warm smile on his face. I don’t realise I’m holding my breath until he speaks.

“You've got nothing to worry about Jean. My family likes you plenty.”

“I've only met Mia remember? Your family don't know me.”

“Okay but they know of you. How you helped out with Mia, how you've helped me...” He looks down at his lap with a blush, picking at the threads near his exposed knee. “My mum's been pestering me to bring you over for a while.”

“She has?”

“Well yeah, I talk about you all the time and she wants to meet-” He stops to clear his throat, brow furrowed. “I mean, she knows how you helped me find Mia that time so, yeah...like I said you've got nothing to worry about, so can you please calm your tits?”

My ears flush hearing he's talked about me with his mam, and all good things by the sound of it. I chew my lip around the huge smile trying to burst across my face, not wanting to look like a complete dork.

“Okay. Calm tiddies from now on. I promise.”

I let the smile out anyway and Marco mirrors it.

To my great relief we’re not super late, arriving one minute after six to be precise. I’m sure with some parents that would result in a passive aggressive comment or just an outright scolding when they answer the door. That is absolutely not what happens when Marco’s mam welcomes us.

“Marcorsetto! Come here my baby boy! Mwah, mwah, mwah!”

Marco’s mam can’t be much over five foot but that doesn’t stop her from pulling his face down for some serious smooches.

Not gonna lie - it’s adorable. She reminds me of Connie’s mam and I instantly like her.

Fuck, I hope she likes me.

She cups Marco’s cheeks with a big smile and then turns to me. “Jean! I’m Gianna. It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

I’m a little (a lot) unprepared for the huge hug I find myself in. The air in my lungs leaves me with an oof but I quickly recover with a chuckle.

“You too! Thanks for inviting me.”

“Oooh molto bello!” she says over my shoulder, making Marco turn crimson.

“Mum!!”

“Hahaha! Come in! Come in! Help yourselves to slippers if you like!” she says disappearing down the passage towards the kitchen.

“Marcorsetto?” I ask, toeing off my shoes.

“Orsetto means ‘little bear’ in Italian.”

“Okay that might be the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Marco slides on some fluffy bunny slippers but I opt for the far more sensible tartan pair. I follow him down the hall towards the kitchen, where a number of voices are chatting animatedly.

“How in the hell? That one’s rigged. It must be!” says a gruff voice.

“It’s not! Here you bloody well use it!”

Opening the door, two things come into focus. The first thing is all the noise – laughter mostly, accompanied by something sizzling loudly on the hob and a classic disco tune dancing out of the radio in the corner. The second thing is the incredible smell. A mix of garlic and onion and herbs and other delicious things I can’t quite put my finger on.

I feel my stomach grumble, like it knows it’s in for a good time.

“Hello bonny lad!” says a stocky man with slightly greying, light brown hair.

He rises from his seat to give Marco a quick hug. The lady next to him – a dead-ringer for Marco’s mam – also stands, her eyes soft when she pulls Marco towards her.

“Hello Marco sweetheart!”

“Hi! You both okay?”

They nod and hum, both throwing a smile and a sideways glance in my direction.

“This is my friend Jean,” Marco beams making my stomach flip. “Jean, this is my Uncle Dave and Aunty Maxine.”

“Good to meet you son!” Uncle Dave smiles giving my hand a warm shake.

“Call me Max,” his Aunty replies, slipping a delicate hand in mine for a moment.

I greet them both in turn and take a seat next to Mia, offering her a quick ‘hi’. She quietly returns it, giving me what I think is a genuine smile before looking up at her Uncle Dave.

“C’mon then! You’ve got the rigged one so you shouldn’t have a problem now.”

Dave gives a hearty laugh, holding a small red counter between thumb and forefinger.

“Oh jeez,” Marco moans. “Tiddlywinks again Dave? You know she can’t be beaten.”

That explains the random assortment of things on the table – a red cup, counters of different colours and sizes and a few small, plastic animals - the kind you’d get in a Christmas cracker.

“Right then, this is the one I can feel it,” Dave smirks.

He presses the edge of his counter to another and it pings across the table, missing the red cup by quite a margin.

“Bollocks,” Dave grumbles, causing everyone to laugh. “Haway boys see if you can beat her. An entire pound coin is riding on this game!”

Marco grabs a small plastic spider with a weird tab sticking out of its arse. He presses his finger to the tab and the spider jumps forward, grazing the edge of the red cup before landing on the table.

“Oh, so close! C’mon Jean, see if you can get one in,” Maxine says excitedly.

I consider the options before me.

“I’ll try my luck with Mr Froggy I guess.”

I grab the green plastic frog and place it in front of me, deciding the best angle. I notice Marco and Mia sharing a smile but think nothing of it…

“JESUS!”

…Until the plastic frog flies a fucking mile and they both burst out laughing.

“Oh god I’m so sorry!”

The fucking frog has flown over to the kitchen bench and plopped right into the fucking salad bowl. I jump up and rush over to pick it out, muttering a million apologies to Gianna.

She laughs warmly, grabbing it before I get the chance. “It’s fine Jean darling don’t panic. You two!” she snaps, throwing the frog in Marco and Mia’s general direction. “You could have warned the poor boy!”

Marco gets his giggles under control and pats me on the shoulder when I sit down. “Sorry. The frog is notoriously hard to control. It always goes flying no matter how softly you try to do it.”

“And you just let me choose it without saying anything! Some friend you are,” I say shoving him in the shoulder.

“Wicked boy,” Gianna smiles, swatting Marco with a tea towel.

“He’s a menace!” I laugh. “Have you heard what he did to me when I picked him up?”

I tell the tale of Marco winding me up with his bloody suit, much to the amusement of everyone else.

“Oh Marco you are awful!” Gianna says with a laugh. “Right clear the table then. This will be ready soon. Marco darling, can you grab the bread from the oven? Mia, help me with the plates, would you sweetie?”

“Anything I can do to help?” I ask.

“No Jean darling you’re our guest! You just relax,” Gianna insists.

“Can I tempt you with some wine Jean?” Maxine asks, pouring herself a glass of red.

“Oh, yes please. Just a small one though. I’m driving.”

Plates and bowls start appearing on the table – bread fresh from the oven and oil for dipping, tomatoes and mozzarella, and something else I’m not quite sure of.

“Wow. This looks amazing. Is that hummus?”

“It’s mashed cannellini beans with garlic and a bit of lemon,” Gianna smiles. “Here, try it on some bread, it’s delicious!”

Literally everything is delicious. Marco was right about his mam being an amazing cook. And I can’t believe all this is just the starter. Everyone quietens during the first part of the meal, enjoying the food too much to bother with conversation, but it soon picks back up again when the last few bits disappear from our plates.

Dave and Maxine have plenty of questions for Marco about his new job. He gets so enthusiastic talking about all the ideas he has for his new class. It’s nice listening to him interact with Dave and Maxine – he’s clearly very fond of them and I can tell they have a lot of love for him too. They both come across as genuinely lovely people and it warms my heart to know that, despite his past, Marco has a loving family he can rely on.

“Alright dig in everyone!” Gianna smiles after presenting us with the main course – mushroom risotto.

“Mmm, wow, this is really good,” I mumble around a mouthful of heaven.

It is literally the best mushroom risotto I’ve ever tasted in my life. I’m not even that into mushroom risotto, but I would happily have this one every day of the week.

“Thank you dear! You can come back anytime,” Gianna replies with a wink.

Now I see where Marco gets his cheeky nature from.

“How’s the band going Marco?” Maxine asks after we’ve all been tucking in for a while. “Your mum was telling me you’ve had a couple of gigs.”

“Yeah, good thanks,” he says scratching his neck. “I’ve managed to remember most of the songs so far, so that’s good.”

Like hell am I gonna sit here and let him be so modest.

“He’s doing more than good. Your nephew is one seriously talented man,” I say, more to Marco than Maxine.

“A seriously talented man you say!” Maxine beams.

“He’s overexaggerating,” Marco smiles, nudging my shoulder and blushing prettily.

“I’m definitely not! None of us can believe our luck he joined. We’ve never sounded better.”

Marco’s cheeks flush a deeper shade of red but I just smile. I’m only telling the truth after all.

“Aww how lovely! My clever boy,” Gianna gushes, smooching the top of his head as she gets up to grab another bottle of wine.

“Well that’s good to know…because I have a bit of a proposition for you boys,” Maxine grins. “You know your cousin Sara’s wedding is coming up? In June?”

“Yeah,” Marco replies.

“Well the band they booked for the evening have cancelled. Would you boys be interested? No pressure but I said I’d ask.”

“You guys have done weddings before right?” Marco asks, turning to me.

“Yeah, we have. They’ve always been a good laugh.”

“I’ve no idea what songs they’d like but if you send her a message on Facebook, I’m sure she’ll be happy to give you the details,” Maxine continues.

“Okay I’ll get in touch with her. What do you reckon Jean? Will Connie and Eren be interested?”

“I’m sure they would be up for it. Hey, maybe by June I’ll have finally convinced you to start singing,” I grin.

“Doubtful,” he smiles, rolling his eyes at me.

“Thank you!” Mia suddenly pipes up, gesturing at me. “See Marco, how many times have I said you should be singing?”

“He’s got a good voice, hasn’t he?” I say to Mia. Good to know I’m not the only one who’s told him so.

“Yeah! He always used to beat me on Singstar. He’s well good.”

“Oh, what was that song you used to sing so beautifully together?” Gianna ponders. “The ‘hold on for one more day’ song.”

“Ah, Wilson Phillips,” Mia answers.

“Yes! Oh I used to love it when you sang that together.”

“Well, maybe Sara will want it at the wedding if Marco’s that good!” Dave laughs.

“Listen if you heard this guy sing,” Marco says gesturing to me, “you wouldn’t be praising my singing abilities.”

I’m almost derailed by his compliment but I power through. “There’s always room for more singers in the band Marco, and we’d be daft not to make use of your voice from time to time.”

He hums, wilting under my and Mia’s staring. “I’ll think about it.”

“You bloody better,” Mia mumbles, smirking at Marco.

Gianna gets up starts clearing the table, asking Maxine a million questions about the wedding as she places our dishes in the sink. Marco makes a start on washing them and Mia soon gets up to help him dry. They speak in hushed voices as they work side by side so I can’t hear what they’re saying, but at one point Marco grabs the tea towel out of Mia’s hand and slaps her playfully on the head with it.

Then dessert starts appearing on the table – chocolate ganache with shortbread, strawberries and orange segments to share. I wasn’t sure I’d want any dessert after the filling risotto but oh man does it look good. Gianna recommends smoothing some ganache onto the shortbread and topping it with an orange segment so I go for that first.

Marco smiles when I hum contentedly. “It’s good right?”

“Sooo good.”

“I hear you’re heading off on holiday tomorrow boys,” Dave comments with a grin.

“Yeah. Our friend’s grandma is lending us her holiday cottage for the weekend,” Marco replies with a smile in my direction, making my ears prickle.

“Oh nice. Good friend to have. Just the two of you is it?” Dave beams.

“N-no,” Marco splutters turning red, which makes me turn red. Even more so when Mia tries to cover up her snort with a cough. “There’s about ten of us going.”

Marco takes a sip of water, so he doesn’t notice Maxine’s death glare or Dave bewilderedly mouthing ‘what!?’ It’s kind of funny actually, like seeing what Connie and Sasha will be like in 30 years.

“Whereabouts is the cottage you’re all staying in?” Maxine asks, trying to ease some of the tension.

“Dauper,” Marco replies.

“Ooooh lovely! Gorgeous part of the world Dauper. We’ve been a couple of times. Have you ever been Jean?”

“No. Looking forward to it though. The dark skies are meant to be great there.”

“Oh yes, the night sky is beautiful in that area! Oh Dave, what was the name of that pub? The one where you had that gorgeous trout…”

Dave and Maxine give us all their best tips for where to go and what to do. Hearing them talk about it so merrily gets me even more excited for the trip.

After practically licking my bowl clean, I excuse myself to go to the bathroom. I find Katniss snoozing on the landing.

“Hey baby girl!”

She indulges me in some head scritches, before sleepily rolling over for some tummy love. I slip my phone out of my pocket to snap some cheeky pics, though my desperate need to pee stops it turning into a full photo shoot. I’ve just finished up in the bathroom and cracked open the door when I hear Dave’s voice downstairs in the hall.

“Max! C’mere I can’t find it.”

A few seconds later I hear Maxine. “You never bloody can despite it being right in front of your face! There! Look! In the front pocket like I said…I’ll bloody kill you for embarrassing Marco.”

“Wha-? How’s it embarrassing to ask if you’re going on holiday with your boyfriend?”

“They’re not boyfriends!” Max whispers exasperatedly.

“I thought Gianna said they were?”

“No! They’re just friends!”

“Oh bloody hell. Put my foot right in it there then,” Dave grumbles.

“Gianna said she thought they might become boyfriends. She says Marco talks about him all the time.”

“Oh yeah, that was it…Well you can see why I thought they were already an item. They’d make a lovely couple wouldn’t they?”

“Yeah…a right handsome pair. Oh, I hope they do. Jean seems so lovely.”

I’ve literally frozen to the spot. I dare not move, or even breathe for that matter.

As if I’ve got Marco’s flesh and blood rooting for me! Holy shit!

I couldn’t help but wonder what Gianna thought when Marco let slip he talks to her about me. At worst, I thought she might be wary of me hurting him like so many others before. At best, I hoped she’d be grateful Marco had found a good friend. To hear she thinks there might be something more than friendship though…I’m just…Gyaahhh!!!

Worrying my absence might start to become suspicious, I close the bathroom door loud enough to make my presence known and head down the stairs. Dave and Max quickly hush up at the sound.

“Alright dear?” Maxine smiles.

“Just grabbing my insulin pen! Needed a bit of a top-up after helping myself to too much dessert!” Dave laughs.

I smile widely; I really can’t help it after what I’ve just heard. “Bet it was worth it though. That chocolate ganache was insane.”

“Bloody gorgeou-”

A series of giggles and a surge in volume makes us all turn our heads towards the kitchen. We share an inquisitive smirk, heading to investigate what’s so funny.

The three Bodts are dancing up a storm around the kitchen table. Marco’s toing and froing between his mam and Mia, waltzing and spinning them as they sing along to George Michael and Aretha Franklin.

Maxine and Dave both laugh and smile but my lips only twitch slightly. My smile is soft and tender as a bittersweet tug in my stomach sends warmth throughout my body. I was right when I said Connie, Eren and I were lucky to have found such a talented bassist, but the bigger truth of how lucky I am to have found Marco fills me to the brim as I watch him laugh and smile.

He looks radiant and just…impossibly beautiful.

“Show them how it’s done Maxy!”

Dave takes hold of Maxine and they begin to sway back and forth. After a few beats, they break apart and grab a hold of the nearest person – Mia and Gianna – and start dancing with them.

Emboldened by Dave and Maxine’s earlier conversation, I take a step forward and sweep into Marco’s space, my fingers slipping into his palm as I lead him in a twirl. He chuckles and returns the favour, spinning me away and pulling me back. My hand finds a hold in the dip of his waist on instinct, and I rock him side to side, not caring one little bit for the goofy grin on my face or the glowing looks I get from Marco’s family.

And then he sings and the warm fuzzies in my chest increase tenfold.

“So we were draaaawwwn tooogether through destinyyyyyy…ooh boy. Ooh!

I know this loooove weeee share was meant to beeeee. Oh!

Knew you were waiting! WooOoooh, yeah!”

The rest of his family are singing too but I the only sound I hear is him. I beam and laugh at the way he hits the high notes, doing his best over-the-top popstar impression.

“Oh, when the valley was low. No, it didn't stop meeeee, no!

Knew you were waiting! Knew you were waiting for me!”

I’m giddy when he spins me away and tugs me back into his orbit. He laughs and something flashes in his eyes when they meet mine. He pulls me close enough to meet the warmth of his torso as the song draws to a close. Our embrace only lasts for a moment, but it leaves me lightheaded and breathless. I reach out a hand to steady myself on a chair as we all break apart.

“Always knew I’d married into a family of crackerjacks!” Dave chortles, giving Mia a quick tickle on her side before sitting down. “Reckon me and Jean should run for the hills while we still have a chance!”

“I dunno,” I grin, taking my seat next to Marco. “Reckon the food is worth the craziness.”

“Ooooh you’re definitely allowed back again you little charmer!” Gianna coos, squidging my shoulders (to my absolute delight). “Phew! I need a brew after that. Shall I put a pot of tea on?”

Max helps Gianna sort out the cups and teapot while Mia and Dave start setting out the tiddlywinks again. I look at Marco with a coy smile, still a little dazed from the moment we shared.

“I promise we’re not always this mental,” he smiles quietly. “But now you know, if that song ever comes on the radio, it’s pretty much a given we’ll all drop everything and start dancing.”

“Fine by me. I love a good twirl around the kitchen now and then,” I smirk, resting my head on my hand.

It makes Marco blush for some reason, though maybe he's just flushing from all the dancing.

“Why that song?” I ask.

“Well my mum used to play it a lot when we were younger,” he starts, keeping his voice low, “but once it was the three of us, I noticed...when she played it, she started actually singing along with it. I’d never heard her sing before. So I started joining in and then eventually Mia did too and it kind of escalated from there.”

Once again, I'm in awe of Marco and his family. In awe of how they’ve found the strength to sing and laugh after everything they've endured. In awe of how much love and warmth they extend to everyone around them when they could so easily have closed themselves off. They're amazing.

“You fancy another round boys?” Dave asks, wiggling a tiddlywink in our direction. 

We stay another hour or so, sharing a few laughs and silly stories as all the delicious food settles in our stomachs.

After bidding the rest of Marco's family goodbye, his mam follows us to the door to see us out.

“You will come again won’t you Jean?”

“I’m literally booking in for every Sunday! Can’t remember the last time I was so well fed,” I reply.

“Oh you’re more than welcome dear. Thank you so much for coming.”

She pulls me into a squishy hug and then turns to Marco, pulling him down to reach her.

“Love you baby boy. Have the best time this weekend okay? You deserve it sweetheart.”

“Love you. I will, don’t worry,” he says with a sleepy smile, resting his head on her shoulder a moment.

Too cute.

“Drive safe Jean okay?” Gianna smiles.

“I will. Gotta get this precious cargo there in one piece,” I grin, giving Marco a playful squeeze on the shoulders.

I run around to the driver’s side as Marco slumps into the passenger seat. We bid Gianna another farewell and pull out into the road. Marco settles back with a contented sigh, gazing sleepily out the window.

“...I really like your family,” I say after a moment.

Marco's gaze jerks towards me, a look of surprise on his face, but it quickly softens into a smile.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “I like them too.”

“I can't believe how much your Aunty Max looks like your mam!”

“I know. Apparently they'd always get mistaken for twins when they were kids.”

Marco tells me more about his aunty and uncle during the drive; the shenanigans Dave gets up to at family parties and the jumpers Max makes for them every Christmas.

We pull up outside Marco’s much sooner than I would like. Luckily he doesn't seem to notice, continuing his story about the time Dave ended up in A&E, after losing a fight with a goose that took a disliking to him.

We giggle and laugh with our heads resting against the back of our seats, our general sleepiness starting to take over.

He looks over at the front door and sighs. “Guess I should head in,” he says with a sad smile, unbuckling his seat belt. “Thanks again for the lift.”

“Anytime.”

I pause. Secretly hoping he invites me in to hang out. I know he won't though. It's late and we've got a long drive tomorrow...Still though.

“So erm, d'you..?” he starts and I hold my breath.

“Do you...still wanna pick us up at eleven tomorrow?”

“Oh. Erm...yeah 'course. Eleven still works for me.”

I make a point of ignoring the disappointment I feel in the pit of my stomach.

“Okay cool,” he says climbing out of the car. It feels like he has something else to say. “See you tomorrow then. Drive home safe.”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” I reply, trying to work out what expression I can see in his features, but it changes into a sweet smile before I get the chance.

He turns with a wave of his hand and I release a pent-up breath. My chest and stomach twist as I watch him head inside. It's not exactly an unpleasant feeling though.

I replay so many parts of this evening in my head on the drive home, but when my head finally hits the pillow, it's the voice of Dave that sends me to sleep with a smile.

'They'd make a lovely couple wouldn’t they?'

_________________________________

Connie helps me load up the car before waving me off (with an actual fucking hanky he got from god knows where) with an obnoxiously loud 'Farewell my beloved!'

Due to a couple of other people booking time off, there was absolutely no way Connie could get away from work before 8pm tonight, so he's joining us later. I feel bad knowing he’ll be on his own for the journey. I would have offered to go with him but that would have meant making Eren and Marco late too and it seemed silly not to make the most of our stay.

I park my car outside Eren and Marco’s and give the horn a quick toot, rolling the window down so I can lean on my elbow while I wait. My phone beeps after less than a minute. I’m expecting something silly from Marco but it’s from Eren.

Jaegermeister:

Good fucking luck

What the hell?

HeresJeany:

???????

Jaegermeister:

>:-)

Before I tap out another reply, the front door opens and the meaning behind Eren’s message becomes all too clear.

“Morning!” Marco says cheerfully.

He’s got his hair tied back again. A few wavy tendrils are escaping from where it’s loosely pulled back…It looks really fucking good.

“Hey you,” I smile, not really bothering to hide the affection in my tone.

“Good morning my favourite douche!” Eren squawks obnoxiously, appearing behind Marco with a shit-eating grin.

“Your smelly ass needs one!”

My reply doesn’t faze him in the slightest.

“You doing alright?” he asks with a knowing smirk I’m glad Marco can’t see.

I decide to ignore him, jumping out of the car to open the boot for Marco.

After loading up their bags, I connect my phone to the car stereo. It takes nearly three hours to get to Dauper, but the music I've put together for the journey is a veritable 90s/00s wet dream of a playlist so we’re in for a good time.

Marco catches my eye and smiles as he recognises the opening bars of Sabotage by the Beastie Boys surging through the speakers. I smirk back before checking on Eren.

"We all clunk-clicked back there?"

"Yes Mam."

"Right let's go then."

After our rendezvous with everyone at Sasha’s, we head off – Mikasa taking Sasha, Armin and Historia in one car with Bert and Reiner in the other. The busy streets of Trost gradually fall away as we make our way to the motorway. There's a buzz in the car that affirms just how excited we all are for the trip. Between sing-alongs, taking the piss out of shitty drivers and sniggering at weird place names, the journey goes by quickly. Even the heavy rain we hit half an hour in doesn’t dampen our spirits.

Marco is especially animated, twisting in his seat to laugh and joke or reaching forward to turn the music up every time of one his favourites comes on (which is often!). The whole car vibrates when Goon Squad by Deftones gets turned up a notch and we all sing (scream) the lyrics as we clear the last of the rain clouds.

“I feel like ‘Goon Squad’ would be a good name for us if we ever decide to become vigilantes and fight crime,” Eren says as the next song starts and we catch our breath.

“Maybe for you two,” I tease. “I think Captain Kirschtein and the Goon Squad sounds better though.”

“You fucking wish.”

“Hmm, I don’t think I know this one,” Marco says nodding at the stereo.

I cock an eyebrow at him as the persistent riff of Good Morning, Captain starts up again. “How can a total 90s dweeb like you not know Slint?”

He looks at me blankly. “Slint?”

“Oh my god. Spiderland? Are you kidding me?? Right, you need to listen to this song.”

Eren starts babbling away to Marco about the album and how the band originally wanted it to be instrumental, that is until I turn and smack him on the leg.

“Okay OW!”

“Well fucking shut up! You can tell him when the song’s over!”

Crashing cymbals and guttural guitars fill the car as Marco taps out the rhythm on his knee. When the song reaches its crescendo, he looks over at me.

“Oh man, I think I have a new band boner!”

I laugh, because it’s obviously a joke, but he says it with such a salacious grin that I blurt out, “Wait, seriously?”

All he does in reply is stick his tongue between his teeth and waggle his eyebrows at me.

Shit that’s hot.

I cover how flustered it makes me with a chuckle and focus on the road. My imagination starts running wild though, and I can’t help the way my gaze slides over to Marco’s crotch just to have a cheeky look.

“Saw that.”

My eyes snap up to Eren in the mirror.

“Saw what?” Marco asks, thankfully oblivious.

“You didn’t see shit Jaeger.”

He chuckles, very obviously pleased with catching me red-handed.

Despite all the singing and chatting, Eren still manages to conk out about two hours into the journey. Never in my life have I known this guy stay awake on a long car trip.

“Oh, man down,” Marco smiles quietly looking back at Eren.

My eyes flit up to the mirror and I see his reflection; slumped down into his hoody and gently rocking with the car’s movement. I turn the music down a little. I don’t really need to – Eren could sleep through the apocalypse – but Marco’s hushed voice makes me feel like I should.

After a few songs, I notice Marco glancing at me out of the corner of my eye, his mouth opening and closing as if he wants to say something. Eventually he clears his throat and speaks.

“Hey I meant to ask…” he trails off, looking oddly awkward all of a sudden.

“Yeah?”

He scratches his neck and looks out of his window instead of at me.

“I know you and Connie are roomies but…I figured he might be sharing with Sasha so…I was thinking it might be nice if - I mean I don't know what the sleeping arrangements are at this place but," his eyes flit over to me as he babbles and stutters. "Do you...do you maybewannasharearoomwithme?”

Ba-dump.

I’ve thought about it. Obviously I've thought about where I might be sleeping - where he might be sleeping - but I figured people would just pair off when we got there and that Eren would somehow wingman me to make sure I share with Marco.

What I didn't think about was Marco just coming straight out and asking me!

Shit. How do I answer this without completely giving myself away or making it weird?

“E-Err,” I stammer, my grip tightening on the steering wheel.

“We don't have to!" he backtracks when I fail to answer. “If you've already arranged something with Eren or Armin or whoev-”

My determination not to screw this up brings confidence surging back to my voice in an instant. If he’s got the guts to ask me, there’s no way I’m going to ruin it by losing my cool.

“We can share a room.”

“…Yeah?” Marco asks with a slight tone of disbelief.

“Yeah ‘course we can share a room. It'll be fun,” I add with a big smile to show him I’m not just being polite.

“Okay...cool,” Marco replies.

The way he ducks his head to hide his own smile and blush makes me giddy, though that feeling is definitely coupled with weird mixture of nervousness and anticipation. My stomach starts flipping at the thought of what might be whispered and confessed in the dark, when we're wrapped in soft blankets and sleepiness has lifted our filters…

Then a short but incredibly loud snort from Eren snaps me back to the present. Marco and I both lock eyes before breaking into hysterics.

“What the hell!?” I laugh, with Marco wheezing beside me.

“Huh? Wha?” Eren murmurs, squinting at us with sleepy eyes and wiping the drool from his chin.

_________________________________

By late afternoon we reach Dauper. After staying within close range of each other on the motorway, we all manage to take the exit at the same time and follow Sasha’s car as it weaves its way along the narrow, grass-lined roads.

The higher we climb, the more beautiful the scenery becomes. The houses become less frequent and older in style, broken up by farmers’ fields, rolling hills and the occasional mill.

“Deer! Oh my god there’s deer in that field!” Marco says excitedly, causing Eren to press his face up at the window and gawk.

There’s so much wildlife here. Aside from the deer we also spot a huge flock of geese flying in a V-formation above us, a fox zipping across a field and we narrowly miss hitting a pheasant that thought it was a good idea to stand in the middle of the road.

After a couple of tight turns and an awkward encounter with a tractor, we pull onto the cobbled lane with the cottage at the end. The car judders and wobbles as we follow Sasha, with Bert and Reiner behind us. Eventually, we stop outside a stone building with blue pastel windows and a yellow door.

“Wow. This looks nice,” Marco says with bright eyes after we climb out of the car.

It really does.

Armin gasps from the open door of Sasha’s car, looking at the driveway. “How am I going to get to the door? My Vans are going to get ruined!”

The rain stopped over an hour ago, but it must’ve been especially heavy in Dauper if the puddles around us are anything to go by. My eyes travel down Armin’s all-black outfit to the new lilac Vans on their feet. Yep. Those kicks are gonna be fucked.

Marco chuckles beside me and asks, “Why are you wearing them for a trip to the countryside? I thought you were smart!”

“Typical bloody PhD student – all those brains and no common sense,” Eren grumbles heading in Armin’s direction.

“I’ve got sensible clothes in my bag! I just wanted to be comfy for the journey. Plus their cute as fuck,” Armin adds with a cheeky grin that makes me smile.

“Alright c’mere princess.”

Eren sweeps Armin off their feet, earning a loud laugh from Sasha and a whoop from Historia.

“Eren!” Armin cries with a smile.

“Do you want your shoes to get muddy or not?” He starts heading to the door and calls over his shoulder, “Can someone get my bags? Hands are a bit full of idiot here!”

“Yeah I got ‘em,” I laugh, bending over my seat to reach into the back.

When I straighten up, I feel eyes on me and turn to see Marco, a red blush blooming on his face as he quickly looks down.

Erm…?

“H-here, let me take the guitars for you,” he says reaching out his hand, still not meeting my eyes.

“Oh, thanks.”

Was he…was he checking me out just now??

I walk around to the open boot, purposely (and unnecessarily) bending over again to get my own guitar.

“You threatening us with a good time Kirschtein?” Reiner barks behind us, laughing as he walks past with Bert in tow.

“You wish!” I yell as I dig around in the boot.

I look back at Marco with a sly grin, straightening up to give him mine and Eren’s guitars, but keeping my back arched so my ass sticks out.

“Here you go,” I say, my tongue poking slightly between my teeth.

“Thanks,” he replies, ducking his head with a smirk, the blush on his cheeks intensifying.

Excitement sparks through me as I watch him walk away. As if I just flirted with him! And he didn’t seem to mind!

I follow him along the yellow gravel path, lined with daisies and bluebells. The back door opens straight onto the kitchen, which is an impressive mix of exposed stone, patterned tiles and rich blue cabinets. My eyes follow the old, wooden beams across the ceiling, down to a large dining table at the opposite end.

“Woah. This place is stunning!” Marco chirps, turning in a slow circle as he takes it all in.

Cute.

He cranes his head to look up the staircase beside the back door.

“Should we put our bags in a room or-”

“Guys come see how cosy the living room is!” Armin yells, appearing in the doorway opposite us.

They reach forward and grab Marco’s hand before we’ve even had a chance to reply, dragging him through the door. I follow them both with a smile.

Wow. It certainly is cosy in here, though way bigger than I was expecting; they must have knocked down a wall down at some point. There are rugs all over the floor, cushions and throws all over the furniture and bookshelves all over the walls. Aside from the TV mounted on the wall, everything has a comforting, old-timey feel to it. The beams across the ceiling match the ones in the kitchen, but there’s no exposed stone from what I can see. Instead, a rich navy colour covers the walls.

Everyone’s in the living room now, except Sasha, but she soon makes her presence known.

“Hey guys?” she calls from the kitchen.

“Yeaaah?” a few of us reply.

She appears in the doorway with a look that spells ‘trouble’.

“Bedrooms are first come first serve and I may have forgot to mention, some are waaay nicer than others…Bagsie the master bedroom!” she cries racing off.

Everyone silently glances at each other before bursting into action. There’s a massive crush as we all try to fit through the doorway at once. Thankfully I hadn’t sat down yet so I get through quickly, heading for the staircase just ahead of everyone else.

I’ll get us a good room Marco don’t you wor- “Ahh!!”

Someone pulls my ankle and I land flat on the stairs. I look up to see Mikasa long-jumping over me and racing up the rest of the steps.

“Go Kasa!” Armin shouts somewhere behind me.

I try to get my legs back under me before I’m trampled. Luckily, the next thing I feel is a pair of warm hands hooking under my arms and lifting me up.

“Man down!” Marco laughs. “C’mon Jean we can do thi- Ahhh!”

Marco collapses on top of me as Eren scrambles over both of us.

“Eren! You fucking tool! Mikasa’s already won you a room!” I squawk.

Someone else tries to get passed us but Marco gets up before they manage it.

“Not so fast Bertie boy!” Marco cries, blocking Bert’s path. “Go on Jean! Go!”

I leave Marco to wrestle the giant and hop up the rest of the stairs two at a time. I dive left but quickly back up when I see the bunk beds against the wall – No fucking thank you! Footsteps thunder up the stairs so I take my chances with the first room on the right.

Oh thank fuck.

I hop up onto the double bed, claiming it as my own and more than willing to fight if anyone tries to take it from me.

Bert sticks his head in the door muttering a quick ‘shit’ when he sees me sitting on the bed. There’s a commotion further down hall. I really want to go look when I hear Sasha screaming ‘Mikasa! Put me down!’ but I dare not leave my spot.

“Bunk beds!? No fucking thank you!” Historia’s voice. I have an awful feeling about where this is going. “Haha! Give it up Kirschtein! This room is mine!”

She runs towards me, with a manic grin, trying to grab my legs so she can pull me off.

“No no no! Marco! Help!”

Historia and I both laugh and giggle as she tries to get a hold on me. I keep her at bay with the two pillows I’ve grabbed, just long enough for Marco to come in and save the day.

“Waahhh!”

Distracted by our battle for the bed, she doesn’t realise Marco’s behind her until he’s lifting her up over his shoulder.

“Oh no you don’t!” he laughs carrying her out as her little legs wiggle and kick.

He plops her on the floor, runs back inside and closes the door. I hop over to join him, both of us laughing as we brace ourselves, ready for someone to push it open. Luckily no one does and we slump down to the floor after a minute or two, our faces flushed from all the excitement.

“Seems like we’re safe for now,” I smile, leaning my head against the door.

“Yeah,” Marco replies taking in his surroundings. “Hey this room is pretty nice. Good job.”

It is now that I look at it. It’s not super big and the window doesn’t let much light in, but the peachy paint, wall tapestries and salt lamps create a really snug, mellow vibe.

“Aw look, they’re cute,” Marco says pointing up.

I smile at his reaction, looking up to see a dozen little crochet plant pots hanging from a wooden beam, woven flowers sitting inside each one. They do look very sweet all dangling there above the bed.

“My grandma used to crochet stuff for me, when she was alive,” I smile.

“Oh yeah?” He tilts his head to look at me.

“Yeah, lots of bonnets when I was a baby, then toys. She was really good at animals. I had a whole farmyard at one point. My favourite was Buchwald the horse.”

“Buchwald?” Marco laughs, his breath tickling my cheek.

“Yeah, she was half German and she often gave them German names. His mane was really cool. It was made of this thick but super soft wool or something. I used to like running my fingers through it.”

“Oh I had a toy I used to do that with! Mine was a lion though. Rory - you know because…lions roar.”

An unattractive snort escapes me and he chuckles softly, his eyes not just looking at me, but seeming to take in my whole face. I wish I had the willpower to stay where I am, but I get a little flustered at our close proximity and get up, grabbing one of the cushions and a throw that’s fallen off the bed as I go.

“You reckon it’s safe to get our bags now?” he asks.

“Maybe, don’t let your guard down completely though. Hey Marco, look at this.”

I’d never even heard of this book until Marco gave it to me so I don’t know what the chances are of finding another copy here of all places but there it is – What we see in the stars – the book Marco gifted me after our visit to Trost museum, sitting on the stone windowsill.

“Oh wow!” Marco says when he sees what I’m holding.

Butterflies start flipping in my stomach. He reaches out and I swear I feel it hum with energy or some shit when he takes it from me. My pulse quickens. He holds it with a soft smile, glancing at the other star themed trinkets on the windowsill.

“Weird. It’s like we were meant to have this room,” he says with an awkward laugh.

Asddfghhjkl!! I was thinking it, but I didn’t think he’d actually fucking say it!

I nervously laugh too, my face turning crimson.

“Haha, yeah. Maybe it’s a good omen for some stargazing tonight.”

Then as if to say, ‘we’ll see about that’ Mother Nature decides to fuck me over – the gentle pitter-patter outside turns into a downpour, hammering against the window.

“Well fuck.”

“Yeah. Looks like we’re staying in tonight.”

_________________________________

After unpacking, nobody is in the mood to brave the rain for the sake of the pub, so we decide to have a night in; everyone’s brought some food for a buffet anyway. I have a quick shower, stick my comfy clothes on and then head downstairs to join everyone.

Eren and Armin are gathered around the woodburning fireplace, constructing a pile of logs and kindling. There’s a spot on the sofa next to Marco with my name on it. I sit next to him with a smile and a sigh, sinking into the plush green velvet.

“Do you guys even know what you’re doing?” Historia asks, looking rather regal sitting in a Chesterfield wingback chair.

“Well, I’m a man so I assume it’s in my DNA somewhere,” Eren smirks, knowing fine well he’s going to wind Historia up with that comment.

“That is the biggest load of bullshit I have ever heard! Penises are not valid qualifications for fire building!” she protests.

“What about penises?” Reiner grins suddenly appearing in the doorway, earning a very big eyeroll from me.

“Yes!” Eren cries when the tiniest of fires flickers into existence, both arms in the air. “AND JESUS WEPT! FOR MAN HAD CREATED FIRE!” It flickers out the moment he stops speaking. “…Shit.”

Historia is beside herself, hanging over the arm of the chair and cackling at Eren’s disappointed face.

“Well you bloody have a go then!” he snaps.

“I’ve never lit a fire before and I’m not arrogant enough to just assume I can,” Historia snaps back.

“Maybe there’s a book somewhere explaining how to do it,” Armin suggests.

“Min we are NOT reading a book to find out how to do something as basic as light a fire,” Eren says with a huff.

Reiner and Bert opt for the biggest armchair, the shorter pulling the other one into his lap and twining their legs together.

“Thanks again for switching Historia,” Bert smiles.

“No worries. Though I’m sad I won’t get to see one of you trying to fit into that top bunk.”

“You’re too nice Historia. I’d have paid good money to see Bert sleeping in that with his big legs hanging off the end,” Marco smirks.

“Glad we didn’t come begging to you then,” Reiner says, throwing a cushion at Marco.

Once Eren and Armin (though mainly Mikasa) finally get the fire going we help out with food and before long, there are all kinds of tasty things to pick at on the dining table. Although not everything makes it there (Sasha insists on ‘testing’ everything before we lay it out). The homemade stuff looks especially good – some bread from Armin, a chickpea dahl from Historia and a pasta salad courtesy of Marco’s mam.

After everyone’s first plateful, we decide to dig out some board games for the evening’s entertainment. Though it takes us a while to agree on which one to play.

“We’ve got to play Monopoly,” states Armin. “It’s a classic!”

“Yeah, no. I’d rather not stay up until 4am mortgaging all my properties because you’ve somehow fucked me over again,” Eren glares.

“Let’s split into teams and start with something simple,” suggests Sasha. “Ooh! And whichever team wins the most games gets to snuggle Maggie!” she grins, grabbing a tiny highland cow from a nearby shelf and holding it aloft like a scene from the Lion King.

After a game of Boggle descends into ‘which team can make the dirtiest words’, we play an insanely intense game of Jenga, followed by a much less stress-inducing game of Pictionary. Whatever we play though, Marco and I have an absolute ball. Everything seems to make us laugh way more than usual and our desire to team up for everything creates lots of opportunities for playful touch. At one point, when he wins us a wedge in Trivial Pursuit, I squeeze his arm for a ‘well done’ and he boops me on the nose.

Cue me melting into a puddle on the rug.

By the time most of the buffet has gone, each team has one win a piece, so Eren demands a game of strip poker to decide the overall winner.

“Okay hands up who actually knows how to play poker,” Historia asks with an eyeroll in Eren’s direction.

Only Eren and Reiner put their hands up.

“Okay fine, fucking…Strip Go Fish then!” Eren smiles.

It’s such a ridiculous idea that we all agree to give it a go. However, we all quickly catch on to the fact that we’re all targeting Eren. By the time everyone’s had their first turn, he’s lost both socks and his t-shirt.

“Hey Eren, got any threes?” I grin.

“No! Go fucking fish bitch!”

I curse and pick up a card.

“Hey Eren?”

“For fucksake Marco.”

“Got any Jacks?”

“Fucking hell. YES,” he grouses, causing everyone to break into hysterics again as he shimmies out of his jeans and sits huffily in just his underwear. “Right my fucking turn. Sasha, you got any sixes?”

“Ugh. Yes,” Sasha grouses handing them over. “Da-da da daaaah! DA-da da daaaah…” she sings while seductively taking off her sock.

Reiner’s turn.

“Hey Eren?”

“Jesus Christ no.”

“You got any…aces?”

“…Oh you absolute anus face.”

Everyone simultaneously cheers and screeches with laughter, knowing Eren has no choice but to get naked.

“Why are you all so desperate to see me naked!?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Mikasa deadpans. “Serves you right for suggesting it.”

“C’mon Eren! Time to show us the goods!

“Off! Off! Off! Off!”

We all tap a drumroll on our legs as Eren reaches into his underwear to cup his junk with one hand and pulls them down with the other. When they reach the floor, the sound we make is deafening – Thank fuck there are no neighbours to worry about!

He sits down with a shit-eating grin. “Well at least you can’t all pick on me anymore.”

We continue the game until Sasha notices a set of headlights moving past the window – Connie is finally here. She gets up to meet him and returns moments later with a seriously tired looking Connie trailing behind her.

“Hey!” We all say, greeting him almost in unison.

“Hey!...Why the fuck is Eren naked?”

That sets us all off laughing again but we eventually compose ourselves enough to fill Connie in on all the details. Sasha offers to show Connie where he’s staying and we decide to give up on Go Fish, letting Eren put his clothes back on. Armin and Historia offer to make everyone a hot chocolate and we all settle into various cosy spots around the room.

I sneak a peek out the window for the hundredth time that evening. The rain has stopped but it’s still overcast. Not one fucking star in the sky.

Marco must sense my frustration when I sit down next to him with a huff.

"Still cloudy huh?"

"Yeah. Not even a patch of sky on show."

He taps at his phone. "Weather's meant to get better. Maybe we'll get lucky with the sky tomorrow night."

"Yeah I hope so. It would be shit to come out here and not see a single fucking star.” I look up to find Marco smiling at me. “Though I guess, there are other good things about being here.”

His eyes twinkle and there’s a pause - probably just a second but it feels like much longer.

“The hot chocolate?” he smiles cocking an eyebrow.

“Yes the hot chocolate, definitely the hot chocolate.”

“I figured.”

“Yeah.”

“Mmmhmm.”

We jostle each other in the shoulder with a giggle.

“Here you go!” Armin appears with two steaming mugs for us.

They beam at me when I take mine and I can’t help but smile back. It can’t all be in my head if Armin’s noticed too. Things between Marco and I have definitely shifted. Only ever so slightly, but enough to make my heart skip a beat at the possibilities of what it could mean…

Blushing, I take a sip of my drink and smile. Marco does the same before covering his mouth for a big yawn.

God, he looks so cute when his eyes get all scrunched up like that.

“You doing okay there sleeping beauty?”

Another yawn hits him straight after the first making me snort.

“Oof. Yeah sorry. I think this week’s catching up with me. I didn’t sleep too well the night before my interview and I’m still feeling it.”

“Aw. Don’t force yourself to stay up. No-one will mind if you wanna head off to bed.”

“Yeah I know but” - another big yawn cuts him off – “I don’t really want to…I’m having a good time.”

His sleepy eyes find mine and he smiles, so so softly…I can hardly bare to look at him but I’m powerless to stop.

If I kissed him right now, he’d taste of hot chocolate.

He looks down at his drink and takes a nice long sip. After setting his mug down he pulls out his hair tie and cards his fingers through his roots, shaking out his wavy tendrils, and then leans his head back against the sofa with a contented sigh.

It’s not even fair how gorgeous he looked doing that.

I shuffle along and close the tiny gap between our sides. Marco, understanding my intention, lets his head fall to my shoulder. He snuggles his cheek against the fabric of my t-shirt and settles down with a deep exhale.

I’ve just closed my eyes to enjoy the moment when Historia clears her throat, catching everyone’s attention.

“Soooo…anyone else noticed Sasha still hasn’t come back?”

“Oh?...Oh! Yeah, you’re right,” Eren answers.

We all share a moment of squeeing like excited schoolgirls, everyone sharing the hope that Sasha and Connie might finally become official. I feel relieved knowing Mikasa and Historia feel the same way. Sasha must have said something to them about wanting things to go in that direction.

After another half hour or so, the warmth of the hot chocolate starts to make everyone pretty sleepy so we all decide to get ready for bed. Marco grumbles when I nudge him awake from his doze, but his face immediately softens when he remembers where he is.

“C’mon buddy. Bedtime.”

I let Marco brush his teeth and use the bathroom first, and by the time I return he’s flat out asleep.

Doing my best not to disturb him, I climb under the covers and lie on my side facing him. I remember the last time we slept in the same bed and how nervous I felt. I remember how simultaneously over-the-moon and terrified I was. How my heart pounded in my chest.

This time I feel completely at peace. I let a goofy grin take over my face and breathe with Marco, watching his peaceful face with every inhale and exhale. I brush his hair out of his face and marvel at how steady my movements are, how unbothered I am by the prospect of him waking up and catching me. My eyes start to soften as I think about waking up next to him tomorrow and how much I’m looking forward to it…

_________________________________

“Jean…Hey Jean.”

There’s a warm hand on my arm, switching between stroking my skin and gently rocking me.

“Jean wake up,” the soft voice continues…Marco’s voice…and Marco’s fingers brushing my hair off my forehead.

“Hmm?” I scrunch up my eyes and roll over.

“Hey, you awake?”

“Y-yeah,” I manage, blinking my eyes until they adjust.

Marco’s sitting beside me on the bed, looking over me.

“What’s up? Are you okay?”

“Yeah sorry to wake you, it’s just…I just got up to pee and noticed the clouds have gone. You wanna go look at the stars?”

“Oh, erm,” it takes me a moment to process his words, but excitement sparks through me when my brain finally catches up. “Yeah definitely. Just err, gimme a sec to get changed.”

We shuffle about in the dark as we try to find our warmer clothes, the odd whispered giggle filling the silence when we inevitably bump into furniture or each other. Once we’re wrapped up nice and warm, I creak the bedroom door open, and we sneak downstairs as quietly as possible. I chance a look out the kitchen window when we reach the backdoor and see a starry patch of sky between the outline of two trees. My breath hitches in anticipation as I feel around for the torch hanging by the door frame.

“Marco, do me a favour,” I whisper, turning to him.

“Hmm?”

“Don't look up until I say so. Trust me it will be way better.”

“Alright.” I hear rather than see his smile.

“Okay let's go.”

The latch makes a soft click as I open the door and, thankfully, the hinges don’t squeak when I swing it open.

Cold air greets us, carrying that unique scent of rain, soil and pine needles you only ever get on a rainy day in the countryside. We step over the threshold and follow the light of my torch.

“Eep!” There's a loud crunch in the gravel as Marco grabs my shoulder. “I can't see where the dips are!” he giggles in a hushed voice.

“Here you numpty, hold my hand.”

Our palms slot together and I almost have to pinch myself over how warm and comforting and right they feel. I squeeze Marco’s hand as I tug him forward, navigating around the puddles until we reach the narrow road. There are less trees to block the view a few yards further down – the perfect viewing spot.

“We can just walk in a straight line from here so I’m gonna turn the torch off. Remember not to look up yet though.”

“Okay,” he replies giving my hand a quick squeeze.

I pocket the torch and wait a few seconds for our eyes to adjust to the darkness. Once I can make out my feet next to the grassy verge, I start walking.

“Hoo-hoo.”

“Aah!”

An owl flapping and hooting makes us both jump out of our skin and we grab each other, wheezing and giggling like a couple of idiots.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Marco whisper-shouts. “What the hell?”

“C-come on,” I laugh. “It’s not much further.”

This time I lace our fingers together, stroking my thumb over the back of his hand as I pull us further into the darkness. I feel his thumb do the same.

“Okay this should do. You ready?” I ask bouncing a little on the balls of my feet.

“Y-yeah,” he chuckles.

“Okay…look up.”

A sharp intake of breath punctuates the night air as we gasp at the sight before us. A canopy of lights, each unique in their depth and glow, consumes the sky above our heads.

“Oh my g-god.”

“I know.”

I will never get over this view. Never. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve seen it before; the sheer depth of the universe always knocks me for six. All this beautiful light filling the sky, despite having started its journey thousands, or even millions of years ago. It’s as if the starlight has travelled just for us, to create this perfect moment. I squeeze Marco’s hand tightly as I start to recognise some familiar sparkles.

“Look, you see that bright star there?” I ask, leaning into his space and pointing at the sky. “That’s Rigel. It’s the bottom of my favourite constellation Orion. See there, that’s Orion’s belt.”

“Oh yeah! Is that reddish one part of Orion?”

“Yeah that’s Betelgeuse! It’s a collapsing star! Oh and can you see those ones next to it?”

“Mmhmm.”

“That’s the constellation Gemini – that super bright star at the head of it is called Pollux. Oh, and that zigzagging cluster is Cassiopeia. And then if you go further up you can see the big dipper. It’s the one that’s kind of shaped like-”

I stop when I realise Marco’s gaze is no longer following the end of my finger. A million galaxies shine above his head but he’s looking at me. I can see them all reflected in his eyes, just like that time in the planetarium except even more breathtakingly beautiful. His thumb starts stroking my hand again as he takes a step closer.

“Jean…”

“…Yeah?”

His other hand moves to my waist and I forget how to breathe.

He closes the gap between us, so much so that I feel his breath tickle my skin…and then his lips touch mine.

It’s brief, barely even a peck before he draws back a fraction, only a whisper of space between us. He releases a shallow breath. My heart yammers in my chest. A heavy second passes between us, but then, when I squeeze his hand and start stroking his knuckles, he leans forward and finds my lips again.

The grip he has on my waist tightens as he untangles our fingers and holds the back of my head, pulling me closer to him. My own hands snake over his back, holding him just as tightly as I tilt my head and melt against his soft lips.

And then his tongue finds mine and I die on the spot.

Oh my god. I’m kissing him. I’m kissing Marco. I’M KISSING MARCO!

AND. I. CANNOT. GET. ENOUGH.

I feel overwhelmed and utterly insatiable all at once. Like, I know I’m kissing him, but I wish I was kissing him more somehow. I’m kissing him and I wish I was kissing him and I never want to stop kissing him…

…But he stops kissing me.

“Jean, wait I’m sorry I can’t…I don’t know if…I don’t know if I…”

I freeze.

“I mean…I want to kiss you, but…I can’t do this if it’s just a one-time thing okay? I don’t…I don’t want this to be something casual that we joke about at the next band practice like it was nothing. I-I…I like you, okay? I’ve liked you for a long time…longer than I should have…”

Fuck.

This is it. This is the moment. These are the words I’ve been longing to hear but never dared to believe I actually would. Holy fuck! But…the way he said them…

He doesn’t know. How can he not know?

How can he not know how much he means to me? How can he not know how much affection floods my body when I look at him? How I have to remind myself to breathe when he touches me. How my heart scorches me from the inside out every time we’ve ever said goodbye.

“J-Jean?” His voice breaks and my heart breaks with it.

I step forward and reach for his hands on instinct. There’s still a warmth to them, despite the chilly night air.

I’ve rehearsed this fantasy a thousand times in my head, but nothing prepares me for the real thing. I don’t know where to begin, whether it’s even possible to make him understand the depth of my adoration.

He squeezes my fingers ever so slightly, like he’s scared anything more might break me, but his delicate touch is all the courage I need to start speaking.

“Marco…you were never a ‘one-time’ option for me.”

His breath hitches, eyes sparkling as he lifts his head to look at me again.

“I like you too okay? Like, A LOT. I think…I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met and I you’re my favourite person to spend time with, but it’s been getting harder and harder because of how much I want to touch you all the time and kiss you and stroke your hair and-”

I puff out a breath and gather my thoughts. The darkness makes it easier to say what I want to say.

“I don’t want this to be a ‘one-time’ thing either. I want…I want everything with you.”

He steps forward, kisses me again and all the stars above our heads turn supernova.

[endy2eepy]

Haiii <333 I'm Ender or Coy (or Rose when I'm regressed!) Welcome to my agere blog 🌙

✨ Here's (under the cut) some stuff you should know about me before interacting, following, or if you wanna be friends! ✨

The information listed is:

my DNI and a misc important section- you MUST read these before following/messaging/commenting.

a section for if you wanna be friends- you MUST read this if you wanna message to be friends

my wishlists- just for fun but if you gimme gifts I will love your forever and ever

my likes/dislikes- you should read this to make sure there's nothing on my page that may make you uncomfy, but you don't have to

my tags- these will help you find posts you're looking for

(this DNI banner is free to use if you want, idm)

DNI List

🌙 Actually, I don't really have much of one but:

⭐ Basic stuff, obviously, like no NSFW (abdl and other kink variants included) and no homophobes/racists/ect on my page.

💛 I'd also prefer AI "art" users stay off my page, but I probably won't block or even notice if you're not heavily interacting!

✨ Other than that, I'll just block anyone who makes me uncomfy... it's usually nothing personal <3

Important About Me

🌙 I like media from problematic creators.

⭐ I won't take it personally if you block me over that, I know it may make some people uncomfy!

💛 I will not, however, let you fight me on it... I'll just block you first.

✨ When I say separate the art from the artist, I don't mean give them money and pretend nothing happened- I mean piracy is easy and bootleg/second hand merch is abundant!

🌙 I will block people who post slander on things I enjoy, but not people who simply hold the creators accountable or are just slightly critical.

⭐ It's hard for me to understand heavy baby talk or typing quirks, especially when I'm regressed.

💛 If you message/comment with them, there's a fair chance I'll ignore it since I can't read it. It's nothing personal, just try to add a translation if I ignore you the first time!

Wanna be my friend?

✨ My DMs are open, but I'm a bit shy and I've never been the greatest at making friends or responding to messages, so please be patient with me!

🌙 I'd prefer only to be friends with people who are 17-21 bodily, and 16 and 25 are my absolute limits (I'm 18).

⭐ If you don't want to be friends with me outside of little space, I'd prefer not to be friends at all. This is a pretty small (hehe) part of my life after all!

Wanna buy me something?

No you don't! Here are my wishlists anyways :3

main:

little:

art:

Likes/Interests

💛 Big:

Shows: Hazbin Hotel, The Amazing Digital Circus, Don't Hug Me i'm Scared, Boy Meets World

Movies: Dead Poets Society

Games: OMORI, The Sims, Fortnite, Overwatch, Cukt of The Lamb, D&D, MTG (sometimes), Cards Against Humanity

Books/Comics: Boyfriends (WEBTOON), If I Stay, All The Bright Places, The Art of Being Normal

Misc: Reborn Dolls, Character Design, some things not suitable for this account lol

✨ Big and Little:

Shows: The Owl House, Angel Hare (YouTube Series), Centaurworld

Movies: The Velveteen Rabbit, The American Girl Historical Collection

Games: Just Dance, The Wii series, EA Playground, Minecraft, Roblox, Old Flash Games, Candyland, The Very Hungry Caterpillar

Books/Comics: Heartstopper (more big but little too), The American Girl Historical Collection

Misc: Arts & Crafts, Collecting things (sunglasses, sloth stuff, and stickers), American Girl Dolls, MCYT, Playing Dress-up, Fashion Design

🌙 Little: (my little age fluctuates a lot so there's a lot of different age ranges in here)

Shows: Too many to list! Word Party and Bluey for modern stuff, and then 2003-2010 PBS kids and Nick/Disney Jr. The goodnight show with Nina and Star!!! Also, veggie tales!

Movies: N/A?

Games: The Imagine Series

Books/Comics: The Monster at The End of This Book, Goodnight Moon, The Very Hungry Caterpillar, anything by Kate DiCamilo, Dork Diaries/Diary of a Wimpy Kid/Dear Dumb Diary

Misc: hmmm I don't think there's any

My Tags

#endys sleepy rambles misc (mostly text) posts

#endys dreams little doodles, coloring pages, ect

#endys dreams pt 2 mood boards, playlists, ect

#endys half asleep ideas recipe/game/craft/activity ideas for fellow regressors

#endy shares reblogs/reposts from other sites

[persephoneflouwers]

Hey, do you have any recommendations for some angsty fics. I want to read copious amounts of angst, so much so that I can hear my bones breaking. Thankyou.

Oh my. Should I be worrying about you? lmao I don’t usually read strong angsty fics BUT I can try find some in your urgent care interest.

Too good to be true (153K) by tatu28

I haven’t read this one but saw @rainbenrry23 crying her eyes out through it. Me being the incredibly talented intuitive person I am took it as a good sign for angst fic. “you're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off you. the one where louis doesn't eat, harry doesn't function and all they need is each other. or: one lonely boy trying to heal another is love.”

Fading (202K) by tothemoonmydear

Probably one of the most angsty I’ve ever read. Louis knows about beauty; the combination of qualities that pleases the aesthetic senses. He creates that combination every day in the garments he designs while studying fashion at uni. The cut of the design, the color of the fabric, the intricacy of the stitching; it all comes together to create something beautiful. When the science student with the long legs and dimpled smile agrees to model for him, Louis decides he’s found beauty personified. Harry just thinks Louis needs someone to show him how beautiful he is. (Read tags)

Call answered (249K) by beechersnope

Mind you. This is tagged as heavy angst. The day after his 27th birthday, Harry Styles attempts suicide. Louis is flown to his bedside to unravel the mystery of why he did it after a flash drive is found with a note attached, addressed to Louis. On it are a collection of 78 songs, all written for different dates from their past.

Time passed (66K) by coffinofachimera

“Louis struggles with their relationship as Harry grows into his identity.” I will also add my comment after reading it to spike your curiosity: I have no words. Beautiful beautiful And the end????? Jfc. Im shaking (read the tags)

Dance to distortion (96K) by Lis (domesticharry)

“Louis accidentally breaks Harry's camera lens and in order to get it fixed, they decide to participate in a romantic couples study. The only issue is that they are not actually couple. Well that and the fact they cannot stand each other.” I don’t think this is the kind of angst you are looking for but it’s worth a try!

Consequences (78K) by allwaswell16

An Amnesia AU. Two years ago Harry let his powerful family come between him and the love of his life, something he deeply regrets. Louis has tried to move on from their devastating break up. Sometimes, he even thinks he has. It only takes one moment to freeze them back in time.

And down the long and silent street (86K) by whimsicule

The year is 1881 and if you’re alone in this world you might as well be dead, because starving dogs have no mercy. The one where Louis and Harry are on the opposite ends of the social ladder, but their paths still cross on the filthy streets Louis calls his home. The odds are staked against them from the beginning, and even more when Louis' past finally catches up with him.

Gods & monsters (201K) by Velvetoscar :

The instructions were simple: seduce and destroy Harry Styles. Not once did they discuss the option of Louis actually falling in love. So, naturally, that's exactly what he did.

Flightless bird (97K) by audreyhheart

I learned this was a controversial one, but you asked for angst. You’ll have angst with this (and any other from this author). AU where Louis Tomlinson is a principal dancer with The Royal Ballet. When his rival from ballet school, moody dance prodigy Harry Styles joins the company, old wounds are reopened and old passions reignited. During the company's production of Swan Lake the secret that doomed their love is finally revealed, but will it be too late?

Victorian boy (101K) by audreyhheart

Victorian AU. Harry the virgin Duke of Somerset knows little of love, while Louis the sly Duke of Warwick knows too much. When the two dukes come together for the Bilsdale fox hunt in York, Harry finds himself drawn into Louis' bed. But when secrets from Louis' dark past come to light, Harry fears that the fox isn't the only one being hunted.

Own the scars (144K) by crinkle-eyed-boo ( @crinkle-eyed-boo )

Louis has never felt like he was good enough: for his stepdad, for his life-long best friend, for the life he's supposed to want. After an accident that nearly costs him his life, Louis' parents send him to rehab where he’s forced to face his demons. On the long and difficult road to recovery, Louis must confront the truths he’s been avoiding about his future, his relationships, and his sense of self-worth. Because before he can love anyone else, he’s got to learn how to love himself first. (Read tags)

Cocaine for breakfast (309K) by guccikings

I’m not sure I finished this one cause I remember I was so mad lmao but I think the trope gets angsty too so “Louis Tomlinson is a drug addict, sent away from his beloved party-scene to recover. There, he discovers that small towns have just as much access to drugs as London did, plus something even better that he just can't get enough of. That something is a boy with green eyes and bouncy curls named Harry Styles.”

Time bomb (291K) by ThisSentimentalHeart

Another one I haven’t finished, but I remember it was angsty enough. The one where Louis has everything: a lead role in a giant Hollywood franchise, a glittering new house with an entertaining Irish neighbor, and a steady, normal boyfriend who he probably loves. Louis never expected to become a household name among young Hollywood overnight. He also never expected to find something endearing about the enigmatic rockstar who keeps showing up on his back porch.

Got the sunshine on my shoulders (124K) by hattalove

You’ll already know this one! The way I hate this Harry aaaaargh 5 years ago, harry styles left his tiny home town to make it big as a recording artist. he didn't have much regard for what he left behind - a life, a family, and a husband, who woke up one morning to find him gone. now, harry has everything he could possibly want: he's rich, famous, and adored by everyone he meets, including his boyfriend. but when said boyfriend proposes to him, he's forced to face the uncomfortable facts of his past - and louis, who's spent the last five years returning every set of divorce papers harry sent him (or, an au based on the movie sweet home alabama).

If you are into ABO (if not, you’re missing out!) here’s aa few angsty ones for you:

Seeing blind (46K) by zedi

the one where Harry’s an independent omega who likes to have his fun and Louis is the blind alpha that changes Harry’s priorities.

Pretty please (with sugar on top) by angelichl (113K)

Harry is a sugar baby omega who cons rich alphas for a living. Louis is a rich alpha with too much self-control.

Also I remember one if the most angsty fics I’ve ever read is take me to church, but it’s not on ao3 anymore but you can support the author with their works on their website (wickedarcher).

Another one, but it’s controversial and fucking nuts if you ask me, is A darker shade of love. It’s long like very very very long (over 700K), but the plot twists and angst never end. It’s very triggering tho, so please read tags. You can find it on ao3 I think, I haven’t read it there!

You can find my other fic recs here: my bookmarks - canon compliant - fics as movies - favourites.

[happytapir-art]

🌟 Tags On This Blog 🌟

This should be a comprehensive list of the tags used on this blog; if you find anything missing, please let me know! Expect this post to change as I make more art and add more links.

All links are formatted for mobile (i.e. tumblr dot com slash happytapir-art). The bracketed words on the list below are the actual tags as I use them, so if you're on desktop, you can use those to search my archive. That's a really bad explanation. If you don't know what I'm talking about just send an ask and I'll explain it better XP

Fandoms:

Webkinz [webkinz]

Homestuck [homestuck]

Littlest Pet Shop [littlest pet shop]

Animals:

Tapirs [tapir]

Kitties and Cats [feline]

Puppies, Dogs, and such [canine]

Horses [equine]

Rats [rat]

Ferrets [ferret]

Monsters, Beasts, etc. [beastly things]

Worms-on-a-String [worms]

Original Stuff/Special Items:

Me (The Dog) [dogsona]

Tapirstuck AU [tapirstuck]

Vrisrezi (OTP!!!!!!!!!) [vrisrezi]

My OCs and such :) [many marvelous wonders]

⚠Triggers I tag for⚠

blood, gore (for more-than-just-blood stuff), body horror (for not-blood-but-not-normal-either stuff), eye strain, flashing (most gifs are tagged with this), bugs (insects, spiders, creepy crawlies of any sort), artistic nudity, needles

⚠Triggers I don't tag for⚠

swear words, religious imagery, drug/alcohol use, weapons, general violence (unless there's blood), sharp items (unless it's needles or there's blood), food

Other Tags I Use:

happytapirstudio (that's me :P)

tapiriffic art (my art tag)

artists on tumblr (sorry :/ we're on that grind atm)

old art (anything pre-2023)

[nekoannie-chan]

Relax

Relax

Title: Relax.

Fandom: Marvel, Captain America.

Ship: Steve Rogers X Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.!Reader.

Word count: 240 words.

Square: 7 “Lazy day”

Rating: Teen.

Summary: Steve’s first lazy day.

Major Tags: Fluff.

Additional tags: This is my entry to @eclipsingbingo The Rising Moon Flash Event 2024.

Links: Wattpad, Ao3, Spanish version.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate my work myself) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. Please let me know if you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish:  Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter. 

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @Smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @Harrysthiccthighss @Marvelatthisone @caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire-rogers @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club  @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @Here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammit @kmc1989 @somegirlfromasgard @rogersbarber

On a Sunday morning, Steve was sitting on the couch, a book in his hands, though his eyes were barely open. He had only recently woken up and, for the first time in a long time, had no missions or training scheduled.

You approached him with a cup of coffee, smiling to see him so relaxed. “Good morning, Steve, enjoying the book," you asked, sitting beside him.

“Good morning. Yes, although I don't seem to have much of a head for reading today," he replied, putting the book aside. “I was thinking of taking the day off."

“Of course you were, Steve. What would you like to do today?"

Although you had to admit you were really surprised, you'd never heard Steve say anything like that before.

Steve leaned back on the couch, stretching his arms above his head.

“I'm not sure."

“Do you have something in mind or should I choose?"

“I trust you," he said.

You got up and started looking through the collection of movies on the shelf.

After a moment, you noticed that Steve had dropped his head on your shoulder and his eyes were closed.

You stood still, enjoying seeing Steve so relaxed for the first time.

After a while, Steve opened his eyes and looked at you with a smile. You smiled back and gently stroked his hair.

“You'll always have a place here to rest, Steve.

“I promise I won't forget," he said.