#the poor girl is SIXTEEN!!!!

[laytontheories]

This is one of my favourite images from the credits of Eternal Diva:

When we first meet Amelia, she acts cold and distant. She isn't interested in helping others and even chastises Luke on the boat. Some might assume she's rude or stuck up.

But when she is kidnapped by Descole, we see her cold facade crack. Her grandfather is dying and she wants to give the Eternal Life to him. Amelia literally entered a game where she herself could die so she wouldn't lose her grandfather. In that moment we suddenly see who she really is: a scared child who would do anything for her loved ones.

However, during the credits we see this image. It shows that Amelia's grandfather has indeed passed away. There is a chess piece next to his grave, suggesting that he was the one to teach her the game.

But Amelia isn't sad. She's smiling, probably thinking of the good memories they had together. Maybe watching Janice say goodbye to Melina made her realise that she will never lose him, as long as she remembers him.

It's a bittersweet, blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment, but it helps add closure to Amelia's character.

But the other reason why I love the image is Layton and Luke in the background.

"Uhhhhhh. Why are we here Professor? We barely know this girl."

"Because Luke; a true gentleman must always attend to the needs of a lady. Even when he doesn't remember her name."

[deva-arts]

Happy Birthday, Vincent! Where did all the years go?

For the first time in my life, I looked at the people surrounding me and felt nothing but mirth. Ease. Restful, ambrosian peace. It's shockingly foreign. Warms the chest. Stings the eyes. I hope this feeling lasts forever. I capture every detail, dissecting each millisecond that passes, sense by sense. The air on my skin, and the scraps of sunlight hitting me. The way the room looks, and the looks in their faces, their eyes. The different laughs and conversations, some even praising me, offering good wishes. The sweetness from foods I never would have received, and the smooth scent of a home. One that's been lived in and cared about. I want to remember it. Engrave it somewhere deep and secret, so I can always return and find the same sights, smells and sounds. If I can't have that, then I hope it lasts a little longer, at least.

+ Close-ups!

Yeah. Just a little longer.

[fruitlicense]

I’m an episode and a half into Smallville and a) statistically Lana Lang can’t be the only girl in town that people want to date, what the hell and b) everyone is acting like this is so high-stakes but it’s literally high school couples. they all need to calm down. Clark is actually one of the chiller people but he’s so sad about it? like it’s okay honey, you’ll meet more hot people after you get your journalism degree

[julietwiskey1]

Azula’s bangs are still lopsided from how she cut them during her mental breakdown. Or at least I believe that this is a deliberate reference to it.

I think these hairs are ones that were in her top knot at the time. But the difference in length matches what she did when she chopped them off. And they are too different in length and consistent between the pictures for it to be accidental.

[strawberryona]

i wanted very different things from my selfships when i was 16. everything was kind and wholesome and happy ending because i was equal parts scared to venture into the darker parts of human nature and affection starved. now i’m a gorehound and my mental health is six feet under and i have real life friends and lovers who do serious bdsm on me cuz i like that shit now. so yeah, actually, who gives a fuck. maybe i do want my selfships to sexually torture each other.

[melodydiner]

TAGS.

[loveinsomesacredplace]

Is it true? Are people coming around to the fact that Show Belly is a different character from Book Belly? Has critical thinking finally entered the chat? *gasps in transformative fandom/show canon enthusiast*

[pretty-little-mind33]

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

summary: Logan has fun punishing you ;)

warnings: hard kink (don't like, don't read!), kinda dub-con (maybe?), unprotected sex, humiliation, rough sex, degradation, mean!logan, dacryphilia, crying, slight dumbification, spanking, creampie

~ last kinktober!! happy halloween! ~

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

You're a sobbing mess, face pressed against the couch cushions, your arm flailing around, clutching onto anything you can hold onto. Logan's back is pressed against yours, warm and hard, as he thrusts into you. He's feral like an animal and you can feel his cock stretch you painfully wide. 

"Lo–lo," you whimper, voice small, "Can't do this anymore," you sob, tasting the saltiness of your tears as your poor pussy is abused. Logan's hands fist your hair, pushing down as he grunts. 

"Can't take it, hm? Yes, you can. You're a slut remember. This is what you wanted, isn't it? This is what you fucking begged for when you were on your knees. Huh, you remember? Licking up my cock, staring up at me with those doe-eyes of yours," he pauses, growling, "What was it you said? You can handle it? Well, handle it then, honey."

You catch your breath, barely able to breathe as he fucks you hard. You're sobbing, unable to focus. Logan grins wolfishly, pulling you up by your hair as he leans in. His lips hit your ear and he whispers hoarsely, "We're gonna play a game now, can you do that for me?"

When you don't answer him he thrusts particularly hard.

"Yes, Logan, yes—" you whine, eyes blurry from your tears. You're staring at the wall now, trying your hardest to be good for him. His laugh in your ear makes you shiver. 

"I want you to count every thrust into your soaked pussy." You can hear his grin, "And if you miss one, I'll go even harder, do you understand me?"

You choke on a cry, not understanding why he's punishing you. You hadn't been that bratty. Logan just seems like he likes this; mocking you and making you squirm for him. He thrusts hard, hitting your cervix and you gasp. 

Apparently, the game had started because he slaps your ass. "One!" you cry, moaning loudly. You're slightly afraid your neighbors might hear you but Logan doesn't seem to care. He continues fucking into you, whispering dirty things in your ear and you struggle to count all his thrusts. He's so fast. His stamina is intense. 

"Four–ah–five, six, s-seven—"

"Louder. I want everyone to know how much of a slut you are." 

You cry, your body feels weak and you're happy he's holding you up because you couldn't do it yourself. Your mind goes hazy as you try and count. "thirteen, fourteen, ah—fifteen, s-sixteen—Logan—I- I can't," you sob, completely losing track and his thrusts become harder to the point that it's burning. You accept the pain, moaning louder. 

Logan's hand wraps around your jaw, groaning in your ear. "Filthy girl. Can't even listen. What am I gonna do with you? I have to teach you a lesson, huh? One your stupid little brain will understand." 

Your skin burns with embarrassment as tears prickle your eyes. His other hand roughly cups your breast and tortures your nipples. This is humiliating, being so powerless against him. You just cry softly, coming around him, body convulsing. You couldn't hold it anymore.

It just happened.  

Logan smirks. He doesn't care that you didn't ask for permission. After all, it gives him more ammunition. 

"Couldn't control yourself, honey?" 

You shake your head, tears streaming down onto his hand. He wipes his hand around your face, smearing your tears around and messing up your mascara. He chuckles.

"Please—t-too much."

Hearing your words, Logan grunts, spilling himself into your womb. He lets go, watching you fall forward again, and digs his nails into your hips. His thrusts slow, catching his breath and looking down at you. You're a complete mess; tears and snot coating your face as you lay there, completely used. Logan smirks to himself, pulling out and then plugging his cum inside you with his fingers. You whimper, too weak to squirm. 

"Keep it all in. Lose a drop and I'll make this worse for you," Logan says. The threat is empty considering he can see you're done. He's pushed you to your limit and you took it so well. Soothingly, he runs his other hand over your back. Once he's satisfied that you're keeping his cum inside, he walks over and caresses your cheek, truly wiping your tears away this time. 

"Shh," he says, kneeling next to you. You blink, eyes still hazy. He's still naked and he chuckles when you see your eyes wander downwards.

"Want more?" he teases.

You shake your head, whining. Logan laughs and kisses your head. "I know, honey. You're okay. You did so well for me," he says and strokes your hair. You sigh, relaxing in his arms as he praises you. You hum, needing more praise. Logan knows you do and he will happily oblige.

"Good girl," he whispers, kissing right next to your lips, smiling into your skin. 

You're always his good girl.

[himbosandhardwear]

Steddie I Different First Meeting I NSFW I Public Indecency I 2.8k words

He's planted. Call him The White Tree of Gondor, he's so planted. Nothing and no one could move him from this spot.

He's going to have perfect line of sight to center stage, as long as no one over 6’3” stands in front of him. He's got his good boots on, giving him a solid three inch lift.

Some people come and go, not as dedicated to keeping their spot. Not Eddie. He's planted.

“You think he moved back?” Some chick yells behind him.

“Doubt it,” her companion yells back, “the point was to get closer.”

“Well I don't know if I can deal with closer. It's only going to get worse when the band goes on, and I'm at my limit for men touching me today.”

“I'm pretty sure there's beer in my hair.”

“A fate worse than death,” she mocks him, making Eddie chuckle. “You wanna bail? He can come find us after.”

“I don't know, Rob, he's just a kid. What if he gets scared?”

“Oh my god, he's sixteen.”

“He's short!” The guy yells shrilly, practically in Eddie's ear. “No way he can see over top everyone's head.”

“Okay, then you stay, dingus. I'm going to go pay $12 for a bottle of water. Come find me after.”

“Rob! C'mon, don't- Rob! Ah shit.”

Eddie almost turns to give the guy some reassurance but he can't, making friends in the crowd is how you end up getting pulled into another direction. He can't chance it. He's planted.

Not to mention his friend was right, the more time that passes, the more packed in they become. Once or twice the guy behind him gets jostled into Eddie's back, mumbling apologies each time. Eddie doesn't bother to reply.

He's determined to ignore the guy until suddenly they're pressed front to back, shoulder to calf, the guys massive hands wrapping solidly around Eddie's waist so they don't fall down, and he's fucked. Suddenly the guy behind him is all he's thinking about.

Of course this turn of events sends the poor guy into apology overdrive, hands ripped back immediately as he stutters his excuses.

Eddie waves it off, still not turning away from the front, but the urge is strong. He kind of needs to see if the guy is as hot as that ten second press against him would suggest. Christ on a bike, he even smells good. At least Eddie is pretty sure that's him, the pine/sugar/sweat combo.

A glance at his watch tells him they've got maybe another ten minutes until the show starts. Five minutes ago that would've been all he would've cared about but now he's got Hot Boy Brain Rot and can't focus.

Which is why the next time they get pushed together, Eddie does absolutely nothing to help correct, he lets the guy pull him back and very nearly fall flat on their asses. The only reason they don't is because they fall into the people pressing forward.

“I swear to god, I'm not doing this on purpose,” the guy says with a chuckle that warms Eddie’s already sweaty skin. He hasn't let go yet, his enormous hands hold Eddie upright, skin on skin where his shirt has been cropped.

He's lost his mind completely, because he puts his own hands on the ones circling his waist and squeeze, a soft acceptance of their predicament. It could mean nothing if the guy is straight - maybe, probably, he's not good at judging that sort of thing - but if the hot guy standing behind him is in any way interested, he'll understand.

And praise Dale, raise hell, he does! Long fingers tighten, slide, tighten, before letting go again. He's pretty sure the guy just stuck his thumbs into the indents at the top of his ass too.

Which is when he realizes there's a not zero percent chance the guy thinks Eddie is a girl.

He forgot he's wearing a kilt, which idiots seem to think is a skirt 70% of the time he has it on. Combining that with his hair being down and the fact that he hasn't turned around at all… Fuck.

You're 6’2” right now. Maybe that's enough of a hint. Or your hairy legs? No, it's way too dark to see that far down, no way he-

Eddie squeaks as the guy runs a finger tip along the edge of the kilt. Luckily, it's too loud for the sound to travel, that would've been devastating.

The guy leans forward and whisper/yells, “Is this okay?” into his ear.

Eddie nods, takes a miniscule step back, bringing himself closer. He's gonna take this as far as he can before they either get kicked out for indecent acts or the guy realizes what he's doing and bashes Eddie for ‘tricking him.’ The smart thing to do would be to fucking turn around and confirm his stupid gender but… it's nice feeling wanted for a moment. Nice enough for whatever the consequences are.

An arm snakes around his middle, a fucking nice arm, all sinewy and freckled and brown, causing a surge of giddiness. They're pressed together again, this time on purpose. The guy seems to instinctively know Eddie has this spot picked out because he doesn't let anyone push them or get between. He does, however, laugh every time they get jostled closer together. It's infectious too, makes him smile along every time he hears that giggle. If the guy doesn't stop being adorable soon, Eddie is gonna fall in love.

Whoops. Too late. There's an enormous cock pressed up against his ass; any semblance of control or ability to play it cool goes right out the window.

He's never been more proud of himself for taking up street hockey with Jeff and his cousins than this moment. Some asshole had said to him, years ago now, ‘No one wants a bottom with a flat ass,’ and Eddie let that settle into a deep seated neurosis that pushed him into sports. Casual sports, that actually turned out to be pretty fun, but still…

Anyway, he's got an ass worth pushing against now, which is doing fantastic things for the whole ‘accidently luring a stranger into simulating sex acts at a concert' thing he's got going on.

Good god are they playing with fire right now. Yeah everyone is distracted by the drum tech setting up but it's not like they're invisible here. The guy to Eddie's left is just as close as the one rubbing off against his ass, if he glances down he's gonna see what they're doing. That thought only brings Eddie closer to finishing, untouched, in his underwear. His own erection is being held down by his boxer briefs, which are always a good choice when wearing a kilt. Shit happens in the pit, he's never been keen on flashing his bare ass to everyone if he takes a header.

He's snaking a hand down, trying to be subtle, but he needs to squeeze his dick or he's going to start crying.

His new friend must catch the movement because his right hand follows the trajectory, sliding right along with Eddie’s, until they're both stalled out, cuping his hip instead of his erection. Eddie thinks about passing out, he's so turned on and terrified. Either the guy knows he's about to touch a human penis or he's about to get an unwelcome surprise.

Before Eddie's heart can explode and kill him, three things happen rapid fire:

The lights go completely dark, signifying the start of the show, which makes the already packed stadium lose its collective shit.

Then there's a call from behind, the dreaded, “Heads up!” Eddie only just manages not to burst into tears as his one true love has to let go to support the weight of the asshole crowd surfing above them. He makes sure to pinch the fucker as he takes the weight of his stupid leg as it goes by.

Then, immediately after, there's another crowd surge as the first lick of Blackened rings out around them. Adrenaline pumps through Eddie like a lava flow, two desires waring within him making it impossible to choose. Does he turn to find the man of his dreams or does he stay the course and watch the greatest metal show of all time?

Considering this is the third time he's seen Metallica live, he turns around.

He's gone. The only people behind him now are two chicks with their tits painted white and gold and a middle aged biker.

Awesome.

He keeps looking but no one near fits the right description, not even close. Why the fuck didn't he turn around and just look at the guy? At least then he'd know who to look for after the show.

It's not like his night is completely ruined or anything. He jumps in the closest pit and takes his disappointment on the poor bastards unlucky enough to crash into him, and he has a splendid time with that. It wasn't his original plan, he wanted to stay center stage and actually watch the show this time, but he's too keyed up to stand still now, better to shove his fellow man and get elbowed for his troubles.

By the time James is wailing out the final insane notes of Battery, Eddie is thoroughly beat. It's a slog getting to the back of the stadium but he's determined to beat the crowd to the pissers. The night was fun and all but he's ready to go. Ready to stick his hand down his pants(kilt), relive the oddest and hottest encounter he's ever experienced, and then forget it ever happened.

He's made it as far as the merch line when a familiar voice yells his name. He looks back and sure enough, Dustin Henderson is waving at him like a semaphore code operator. Goofy ass kid, Eddie loves him to death.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He asks after giving him a back slapping hug.

“Surprise early birthday gift, I didn't know until yesterday or I would've told you.” His whole body is thrumming with excitement. It must be his first metal show. You wouldn't know it to look at him, he's got a whole mini-Eddie thing happening, which is adorable.

“That's awesome, dude. You didn't want to stay till the end?”

“I already saw their setlist and calculated the timing just right to get in line before the crowd let out.” Of course he did. “What about you? Taking off?”

“Yeah, I've had…a weird night. Good but weird.”

“You wanna ditch in line? Looks like they still have plenty of T-shirts available.”

He laughs. “Nah, thanks though. I'm just gonna head home. I'll see you Saturday?”

“Totally, wouldn't miss it-”

“There you are! Jesus, Henderson, I thought I lost you. Your mom would kill me if something-”

The guy finally stops bitching but only because he's staring at Eddie like he's seen a ghost.

“Uhh,” Eddie drawls, confused.

“Steve! This is Eddie! You know, from Hellfire, at Tech.”

It would be appropriate for them to shake hands, he thinks, but the guy is just staring at him, going more and more red as the seconds pass. It's a good thing he's pretty because his social skills could use some work.

“Hey dingus, did the beer in your hair finally soak into your brain.” The woman standing to Steve's left knocks on his forehead with a knuckle, making him flinch.

“You guys okay?”

Eddie is too busy being strapped into a roller coaster of emotion to respond to Henderson’s quiry. It can't be this easy, fate has never been this kind or cruel to Eddie, not at the same time. His dream man can't be Dustin's babysitter/big brother Steve. That guy drives a BMW and listens to Supertramp, which he only knows because he followed Dustin out to the parking lot one night. Except, Steve is gorgeous and fun and a good dude who worries about his kids, and is smoking hot.

He knows Steve knows he knows now, his own face has gone beet red, and they're just staring at each other, like some kind of gorgon in a bathroom mirror situation.

“What is this? Why are you being weird?” Steve's girlfriend - Rob? - asks. “Wait, oh my god, is Dustin’s other dad, your imagined arch nemesis, the Guy in the Crowd? Holy shit, he totally is, what are the fucking odds!” She cackles.

Wait. He told her about that? And he knew I'm a guy? And he thought we were nemesis? That's so hot.

Dustin is going on about Steve's apparent low self esteem and how Steve needn't worry about his loyalty and how he loves them both equally, which is sweet, but he and Steve are still just staring at each other.

“I know a good diner around here,” he blurts out when Dustin finally shuts up. “They have all you can eat pancakes.”

Steve's eyes do something devastating, adjacent to cows touching grass for the first time. “I like pancakes.”

“Let's get pancakes.”

“Okay.”

They start walking away, dazed, until Dustin reminds them of his presence, loudly and with much insult. “Steve! You drove us here!”

“Shit.” He turns back. “Right. Sorry. C'mon, we're getting pancakes.”

Dustin looks to Rob, as if to say, ‘What the fuck is going on?’ She replies back with a sort of ‘I don't get paid enough to explain this to children’ and ‘I know, he's hopeless but we love him’ both kinda look.

“What?” Steve asks.

“I'm still in line, dude. I want a T-shirt.”

“But-”

“No buts!” Dustin screeches. “Pancakes can wait!”

Eddie wishes they would figure it out soon, he still has to piss.

Rob, bless her, she's Eddie's new best friend, takes Dustin under her arm and asks Eddie, “Where's the diner?”

“25th and Dudley Ave. Called Roxy's.”

“Got it. Go on, I'll bring your son after he's got his stupid shirt.”

Dustin is the epitome of disbelief. “What! No! Guys, don't leave me with Robin!” He yells, to which Robin responds by putting him in a headlock.

“Go! Run before he figures out what's going on.”

Steve doesn't need to be told twice, apparently, he grabs Eddie's wrist and yanks him toward the exit doors. It’s exciting, running away with Steve, even though they’re only running from Dustin. Still, it leaves them both breathless by the time they get to the end of the block, both laughing about how ridiculous it all is.

“God. Haven't run like that since…well the last time the cops were after me.”

Steve just grins, hands on his knees, looking like a former athlete, all deep breaths and physical therapy style stretching. Fucking hot jocks, ugh.

Eddie wants to mount him.

Which brings them up to the awkward part: acknowledging what happened.

Steve braves it first. “Hey, I, uh, I don't want you to think I go around doing shit like that.”

Eddie, ever the opportunistic asshole, says, “Shit like what?” When Steve's face falls to horror, perfectly timed, and Eddie loses it. “I'm kidding, sorry, I'm just fucking with you. It was definitely me.”

“Dick,” Steve says but he's laughing.

“Yeah, that's me.” They sort of instinctively move away from the street, closer to the less busy side storefronts. “In the interest of honesty, I should tell you, I wasn't entirely sure you knew I wasn't a girl, that's why I sort of hesitated right there at the end, before we got separated.”

Steve looks baffled. “Huh?”

“You know.” He waves at himself. “From the back I could be a tall chick. Cause of the kilt and the hair and everything.”

He shakes his head. “Dude, I saw you from like four rows back. Why do you think I stopped where I did?”

Fuck. Okay. That's…awesome. He jams a whole fistful of hair against his face.

“Also, even if you had turned out to be a tall chick, not a deal breaker. You're fucking hot either way.”

“Okay, Romeo, cool it with the compliments before I make you finish what you started right here.”

Jesus tap-dancing Christ, that smirk should be illegal.

“Right here against the jewelry shop window? I'm not opposed.” Eddie very seriously considers the pros and cons of that but before he finishes, Steve laughs. “Better not. I was promised pancakes. And Lord have mercy if Rob and Henderson get there before we do.”

He's right. God dammit.

“Fine but for the record, which I feel goes without saying, I do put out on the first date.”

Steve laughs. “Never would've guessed.”

By the time they get to Roxy's, Steve has his arm around Eddie's waist, pinkie tucked deep into his kilt.

[buckyalpine]

My First and Only

Virgin Mob beefy Bucky x reader

So I'm taking my drabble and making into a one shot. Our beautiful, rugged mob boss whose glare make grown men cower is just a sweet shy thing on his wedding night. He has his wife to guide him poor Bucky is even more nervous because he doesn't want to disappoint his princess. Do keep in mind he's going to be a menace once he's well practiced.

-

"The right one will be worth it Jamie" Bucky's mothers words echoed in his ear as he sipped on a glass of whisky, the loud bass of the club music making the ice in his glass clink. "You'll know when it's the right time"

He was sixteen when she told him that, around the same time that he started working closer with his father, preparing to take over his families business. With money came power and with the money the Barnes' had, it was near limitless. The last thing Winifred wanted was for her son to go down the wrong path, one filled with greed, violence and lust.

She raised him to respect those around him and himself. To see beauty in living things, to love others and above all else, to value what it meant to share a life with someone you cared for. It was a sharp contrast to the way George ruled with an iron fist but it gave Bucky the balance he needed to be an excellent leader.

Under his mother's guidance, he followed the path that lead him to where he currently sat along with his two right hand men, Steve and Sam, the three men sipping on a dark amber liquid, ignoring the numerous girls that tried to fling themselves at their table.

"You'd think they'd get the hint after you said no to the first three" Steve chuckled while another woman slinked up only to have Bucky politely shake his head.

"Think you'll say yes to any of them?" Sam playfully shoved Bucky's shoulder already knowing the answer. Whenever they were out, plenty of women would approach the mob boss only to be turned away every single time.

"Not tonight" Bucky snorted, knowing he'd be ready when he found the right one. It was just a matter of time.

Looking at him, it was doubtful anyone would think or know Bucky was a virgin. He'd dated girls before but no one made him feel anything that also captured his heart. Of course, its not like he told anyone what he did or didn't do with those girls. He certainly didn't look like someone who lacked experience. He took care of himself when he needed to, after all he was still human. His right hand knew exactly what to do when necessary.

He met his pretty angel at a flower shop. He was there to get a bouquet for his ma's birthday and left with your number instead, quickly going back with a blush on his cheeks, realizing he didn't get what he initially came for. Bucky knew he'd found the one when the first thought that came to mind after his date was that he had to take you home. Not to his bed but to his family. To show everyone the sweet girl he knew he'd love for the rest of his life, the one he instantly knew was for him.

"You better protect her with all your heart" Was the only thing his father said before patting his shoulder whereas His mother didn't say a word about you after you'd both first met. She simply handed Bucky her wedding ring, already recognizing the lovestruck look on her sons face.

When he kissed your lips at the altar, he nearly fell to his knees, the soft warmth of your skin already making him woozy. He didn't leave your side the entire night, his arm protectively around your waist, so in love with the one person he got to call his for the rest of his life. Your first dance was filled with soft kisses, whispering sweet nothings to each others while your loved ones watched with teary eyes. When the SUV came to whisk you both away, Bucky still didn't let you go, holding you tightly in his lap, ready to start a together new chapter as husband and wife.

The very first one being in his bedroom.

-

Bucky didn't understand this feeling. It was brand new to him. He'd felt every emotion under the sun except this.

Shyness.

Pure, innocent shyness.

God, he'd never felt so shy in his entire life, it was almost embarrassing. He shook his head at himself; he was over 6 ft tall, covered in dark ink but the thought of going to bed with his sweet wife was what was going to take him down.

"Jamie, can you help me with the back please?" You stood in front of the dresser while his sucked in a breath, his fingers fidgeting with the delicate buttons down your back. He carefully undid them, letting his hand ghost down your spine, his breath catching in his throat when your dress fell and pooled around your feet. You stepped of it, left in your white lingerie and heels, bending over to unstrap them, only to have Bucky stop you.

"Let me, sweet heart" He got down on one knee, taking off the tiny strap wrapped around your ankle and slipping your heels off before standing up again, taking in the soft lace that barely covered your body.

You took off his blazer before you unbuttoned his shirt, smiling at the way he held onto your waist, his thumbs tracing small circles onto your hips. He didn't know where to focus, feeling your lips kiss his chest where he had tattooed your name over his heart to the way your soft breasts were now pressed against his body.

You let your hands caress over the thick planes of muscle while going down to his belt buckle, various pieces of art covering his body in the most beautiful way. Bucky's heart hammered against his chest as your hands trailed down to unbutton his pants, your nimble fingers brushing over his throbbing erection.

He hopes you don't realize how nervous he feels when you unzip his pants, letting it fall to his feet. He gives you a shaky nod when you look up at him for permission to pull down his brief's, letting you see all of him for the first time. Your fingers hook around the waistband, puling them down his thick thighs, till he's left perfectly bare in front of you. His thighs tense together at the soft gasp you let out, scared he'd disappoint you some how though the very thought is ridiculous.

You can't help but take a moment to admire you perfect husband in his all naked glory, his thick, heavy cock curved towards his tummy, heavy balls, achingly full. The blush on his cheeks deepen when your eyes flick down to his most intimate parts; no one else ever seen him like this before, not since he was a baby. You lean up to give him a reassuring kiss while he slips his hand into yours, taking you to bed. Every part of him wants to pick you up, throw you over his shoulder and toss you on to the large mattress but not tonight. You lay down with him against the soft pillows, the silky sheets under you cool against your skin while he gently tugs on the straps of your lingerie.

"Can I?" He whispers, still to nervous to do anything while you move his hands to the clasps of the lace.

"M'your's Jamie" You nod, letting him take his time unhooking your bustier off, his eyes growing wide at your perfect bare breasts. You know its his first time and there's nothing more you want than for him to know you trust him completely and you're all his.

He doesn't waste any time slipping your panties off, his tongue darting out to lick his lips at the sight of you naked on his bed. It starts off slow and innocent. He doesn't rush to do anything, taking his time to hug you close to him, relishing on the feeling of your bare skin on his between soft kisses. He struggles to calm himself down with the way your soft body is pressed against his, your leg hitched over his waist, his cock itching to rut against your tummy for more friction. His wide, thick body engulphs you when he holds you close, his hands skimming up and down your waist before trailing up your spine.

His heart starts to hammer again when he starts to trail kisses from your jaw down to your neck wanting to touch more of you. He wants to show you how much he loves you, gently taking a nipple into his mouth, moaning as soon as he starts to suckle. Your back arches, a gasp melting into a moan at the way his tongue flicks and moves in circles between his lips tugging and sucking your peaked bud.

Nothing compares to how warm and soft your breasts are in his mouth, his cock starting to leak. He so lost in kissing and sucking your breasts, precum smearing all over your tummy, where his cock rests against.

"Can I Touch you baby?" you whisper, kissing his forehead when he looks up at you with wide eyes. He quickly nods, pressing his hips against you showing you where he needed you most while refusing to take his mouth off your breasts.

You hand goes down to gently palm him to giving poor baby some relief. You wrap around his thick shaft, loving the needy muffled moan he lets out, his hips moving on their own when they thrust up into your fist. He doesn't even realize he's practically humping into your hand, your lips nipping down his neck.

"I-

"What is it James" You ask with your sweet doe eyes and he manages to blush more. He should be the one making you feel good and taking care of you but instead here he was, scared he'd cum before getting a chance to be inside you. You see his eyes trail down your body, darting down to between your legs, understanding he wants to touch you too. You pull away slightly, lying down on your back for him because fuck, you needed to feel him.

"Angel" His voice was breathless as you spread your thighs apart for him, giving him the perfect view of your soaked pussy and swollen button. He could feel precum starting to dribble from his tip; there was something so beautifully erotic about the way you were giving yourself to him despite how shy you were yourself. Displaying your most sacred and intimate parts to your husband so he'd take care of you.

He loves the way your face contorts with pleasure each time he rubs your clit, moving in slow, deliberate circles. He doesn't get a chance to toy with your for too long when you peck his pouty lips before trailing kisses down his body. His eyes grow wide when you get closer to his cock, his hips nearly lifting off the bed so you'd know where he needed you so badly but too shy to ask.

You take your time to clean off his slick precum that's beading from the tip, his swollen cockhead growing more sensitive each time you flick your tongue across his slit. He lets out soft, sweet babbles when you take him down your throat, his salty taste coating your tongue.

"You're making me leak" He whimpered, biting his lip to keep from letting more high pitched whines slip out, "dragă, st-stop, I'll c-cum"

He's never sounded more gone, gripping onto the sheets while you swirl your tongue around his head one last time before pulling off with a pop.

"oh-OH" His eyes grow wide when you drip down further to take his balls in your mouth instead, the sensation different that anything he's ever felt. A steady dribble of slippery arousal streams out of his cock while you nurse on suckle his heavy sac, addicted to your husbands distinct, sweet taste. You love how heavy he feels in your mouth, the smooth silky head of his pink cock begging to be sucked again.

He know's he'll cum if you keep on going which is why he pulls you up, kissing you deeply before settling you comfortably against the pillows again. He wants to make love to you so badly, even if it's not perfect the first time. He wants to give himself to you, nervously blushing when you spread your thighs for him while he pumps his cock.

"Are you ready?" He whispered against your cheek, the both of you nearly trembling with anticipation when you nod, letting him line his tip up with your fluttering entrance. He lets out the most desperate moan when he starts to push in, his body weight falling on top of you while his cock throbs, already close to cumming.

"Angel, I think m'gonna cum" He whimpers against you neck, knowing the slightest movement will make him blow his load. He hugs and clings onto you tightly, rutting himself into your cunt with the most gentle roll of his hips.

"Want you to feel good Jamie, it's okay" you hug him back while he pants harder trying to give you deeper strokes, he wants to make you feel good, feel how much he adores you by giving you pleasure but he just can't. You feel too good, pussy so warm, silky and soft.

"P-please cum for me angel" He pleads, his hand slipping between your bodies, finding your throbbing clit, rubbing quick circles with his thumb.

"J-James!" You hold onto him tighter, spots starting to cloud your vision with the way he's toying with your body as if he's touched you for years, his cock reaching depths you didn't know existed. "Fuck, fuck baby, feels so good" Your moans nearly turn into wails when he moves faster, his orgasm barreling towards him when you start to clench around his cock.

"Need you to feel good angel, don't wanna cum yet, wanna make love to you" He hides his face against your neck to try and muffle his moans but it's not use, a few sloppy stokes in and hes pumping you full of his seed, unable to stop as stream after stream burst from his cock.

"I-f-fuck, Swetheart, m'cumming- I-oh-hng princess-" He practically rolls over with you, still buried deep in your pussy, your mixed arousal soaking the sheets. His body shudders and he continued to thrust his hips up, grabbing your ass to keep you flush against him, moaning into the crook of your neck, "m'cumming so much for you, god I can't stop"

And he doesn't stop.

You gasp, feeling him still somehow rock hard, his sensitive cock still thrusting into you, his cum making it easy for him to slip in and out of you faster.

"Not done pretty girl, gonna keep my cock in you all night"

****

"Was I okay?" He whispers innocently while you cuddle into his chest, the both of you still naked, snuggling in the sheets. You giggle at his adorable expression, pecking his lips

"Of course baby" You reassure him again, your body still trembling from the way he pulled a second and third orgasm from you.

"Is everything okay for you?" You check in with him, loving that the question okay makes him shy again, the pink on his cheeks now moving to his neck and ears.

"M'happy I waited, that you're my first and only" He playfully shrugged, struggling to meet your gaze while you hugged him tightly, closing your eyes. The both of you drift off to sleep, only to wake up in the middle of the night, blindly reaching for each other again.

No words are said but you end up on top, dinking down on his cock, bouncing up and down, the lights turned off, only the glow of the moon illuminating your skin. He can't help himself, greedily pulling you down towards him when your breasts bounce in his face, desperately suckling on your nipples.

Between the way you ride him and the way your soft breasts in his mouth feel, he doesn't even realized he's whined mommy, eyes closed and clinging onto you like a baby.

Keep in mind, this was Bucky's first time. He's surprised at how needy and subby he can get for you, so desperate to please and pleasure you.

Until he starts to get more comfortable.

When he discovers his dom side the bedroom.

He learns he loves when you call him Sir and Daddy. On the rare occasion the house is empty, he becomes the most filthy fuck you'd meet, pulling his knife out whenever he wants to strip your clothes off and getting on his knees to eat you like a man starved. He'll bend you over anywhere; over the banister, over the kitchen counter, the table, the stairs, the floor when he wants.

If he's not nursing off of your clit, you're between his meaty thighs giving him the most sloppy head of life and he's never been more thankful for his sound proof walls.

He loves being a switch the most, alternating between begging to get a chance to taste you and then railing you with his cock till your crying and dripping with cum.

[postmortemnivis]

could be read as a part two of this post

“when i met you,” price started, “you were a mess of a man.”

simon grunted in response, his arms crossed over his chest almost as if he wanted to protect, shield himself from price’s words. each cut deeper than knives, aiming straight for the strong walls he’d built around his heart, the ones that only you had been able to tear down.

a mess of a man. he knew it, he didn’t need to hear about it too.

“at first, i honestly didn’t think you were going to ever become someone.” the older man admitted.

johnny’s laughter could be heard from the living room, where he and kyle were chatting about god knows what, probably the last poor girl johnny shagged in a bathroom stall at a pub the previous night.

“you didn’t?”

price shook his head. “as i said, a mess of a man, simon.”

a mess of a man. simon knew himself, he knew he was no saint, no good: he was a murdered, the angel of death that could be seen in the middle of the field, his dark glow foretelling the end of anyone who found himself in the middle of his bloody path. his hands were stained with the blood of many, the same hands he refused to touch you with; the only thing that kept him sane was knowing he wasn’t ghost, ghost’s crimes were shielded from simon by his black gloves and balaclava.

simon looked at price as his hand rested on his shoulder. he remembered what it felt to be neglected by his own father, and price knew it. price always seemed to know everything about his boys, he could see right through him. what simon needed was guidance, and price would’ve given it to him.

“nothing to be ashamed of,” he continued, “most of you boys are, you seek for something more. think of johnny, he enlisted when he was sixteen. you enlisted the day of your eighteenth birthday. we all know that if you’re a responsible man you don’t run to the army. we’re all crazy, messed up men.”

price also knew they were reckless, a suicidal loyalty bound to him. after all, their job attracted the beasts, the outcasts, the sadists, the worst of society.

simon rolled his eyes when price referred to them as boys. the man was less than ten years younger than simon, but he still felt the paternal pressure and instinct to protect the boys. his boys.

“wha’ made you change your mind?”

price motioned simon to move further into the kitchen, away from the people that were invited to his house.

“her.”

your voice echoed as you walked out of the bathroom, letting johnny finally hold his little niece. gary was walking behind you with the brightest smile on his face. gaz made a comment about how the three weeks old baby looked just like you, with simon’s dark eyes and pale blonde hair. if only he knew you helped simon dye it every month and a half, him sat on the edge of the bathtub and you standing between his thighs, his hands firm on your waist as he—for once—looked up at you instead the other way round.

you agreed with a chuckle, looking around for simon.

“look a’ the lassie, she’s already an uncles gal!” johnny’s laughter filled the flat. from the corner of his eyes, simon could see the person he’d grown to call his brother hold his newborn daughter.

“her?” he looked at you, the softest and most subtle smile crawling on his scarred face. simon struggled to hold back his smirk.

price nodded. “i remember we all could tell that you met someone. you’d become less… rigid. you’d smile more, were more clement with the recruits.”

“she changed me.” simon shrugged, attempting to hide the smile that would try to crawl on his face anytime he’d think about you. even after years, between a marriage and now a child, his eyes would light up at your thought alone. that’s the impact, the effect you had on him.

“that’s good, simon.” price spoke. “we’re all happy you’re doing better. we remember how you used to-”

“okay, got the message.” simon interrupted him. “loud an’ clear, john.”

his life before you seemed so distant and he almost couldn’t remember of a time where you weren’t by his side yet. like a far away dream, closer to a nightmare than a dream, but still something that didn’t look like the life he was living now. he didn’t need to remember a bit of it, what was the use? he had you now, everything before the day you met didn’t matter anymore, it didn’t exist anymore.

price sighed, looking to the ceiling as he tried to find something in his pocket. “coming outside for a smoke?”

simon shook his head, arms crossed over his chest. “nah, capt. quit a while ago.”

it’d been months since you’d showed him the pregnancy test that shook his whole world. he’d fallen to his knees in the middle of the courtyard, surrounded by worried recruits, johnny immediately sprinting close enough to check whether his lieutenant was okay but far enough to give you two privacy.

“promise me ‘m not dreamin’.” he murmured, pulling you closer by wrapping his arms around your waist, hiding his face in your chest.

you brushed his short blond hair back, biting your lip as you smiled. you could feel your eyes tingling, tears threatening to spill at any given minute. “you’re not, si. we’re gonna be parents.”

you chuckled, leaning down to kiss his head and felt your white work shirt getting wet by his tears. you looked around at the faces of the confused recruits, and you smiled, because you knew you were the only person who’d ever truly know how the scary lieutenant, the ghost, really was.

“we are.” he whispered before kissing your still flat stomach, getting back up and giving you a soft kiss on the forehead. “thank you.”

in the nine months he’d been taking care of you like a person on their deathbed—really not necessary, si, i can still do the dishes by myself—he’d stopped smoking, and treated himself to just one beer every first sunday of the month.

he had worked on himself, hard.

for you and for your daughter. he wanted to be a better person, a good man. he wanted to be nothing like his father, that having haunted and scared him for so long and being the main reason he always tried to postpone having children, what truly held him back,, but he tried to be a better man.

that was what distinguished him from his father, he tried to be better.

leaving the military was sure next, after fixing the downstairs bathroom faucet and oil the doorknob of the closet. he wondered how the boys would take it, but in the end he didn’t really care, he knew they’d understand.

“quit.” price repeated, eyebrows raised as he put his lighter back in pocket. he wasn’t a social smoker, but knew better than to smoke near a baby, even if he would’ve excused himself to the balcony.

simon smiled as he heard you scold johnny for throwing the little girl in the air. “what if you drop her?”

“ah wid never, lass.” he reassured you, laughing at the slap he got on his scruff.

“you’re a good man, simon.” prices hand found its way on simon’s shoulder again. “you went through a lot, but you’re still fighting for a good cause, you didn’t let it change you. that’s what makes you a good man.”

simon was about to deny, say he wasn’t, he was the worst man there was, but then you walked into the kitchen, all smiles.

“hey si.” you smiled. “baby’s hungry.”

simon immediately stretched out his arms to hold the baby, a bottle already in his hands as soon as those words left your plush lips, your lashes batting up at him.

you wrapped your arms around one of his strong biceps and smiled up at him and then at price.

“cute, isn’t she?”

“is indeed.” john nodded, smiling under his thick moustache.

before he decided to leave the kitchen to leave you three some privacy and join the boys in the living room, where johnny had apparently put on a rugby match—“scotland-wales, for fucks sake, lad!”—he shot simon one final knowing glance.

simon returned the look, your eyes too focused on the little girl in her charcoal grey onesies to notice.

“you okay, si?” you whispered, but your husband's eyes were unfocused, staring off into space as price’s words kept replaying in his head like a broken record.

he nodded, kissing your forehead almost instinctively. “yes, love.”

you smiled up at him and then at your daughter, simon’s mind travelling an hundred miles an hour, waiting to crash on itself and get brought back to reality. price’s words echoed in the background of his brain, quieter each second that passed.

a good man.

tagging who asked:

@mr-sol @v1x3n @m4dyy @softangelheart @redzluvvesage @nittoka

[mattscoquette]

𝑶𝑯 𝑴𝒀 𝑴𝒀 𝑴𝒀 | 𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑻 𝑺𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑶𝑳𝑶

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉.. you are childhood best friends turned lovers with matt. based off of mary's song by taylor swift

kissing, slight arguing, no use of y/n

2.1k words

i was seven and you were nine

i looked at you like the stars that shine

and our daddies used to joke about the two of us growing up and falling in love

you were in the backyard, running around on the wooden play set your dad had built for your fifth birthday. it was an early evening in mid august, the heat of the summer day finally beginning to cool down. your family invited the neighbors over for a barbecue for about the third time this week, and it was only thursday.

“matty,” you giggled, brushing the dirt off your knees from the slight tumble you took, “i said no tag backs.” your mother had put your auburn hair into braids for today, which were beginning to fall out from all of your running around. you wore a light green sundress, bringing out the slight green specks in your usual blue irises.

matt laughed back down at you, running away once more, yelling you’re it. you watched as the taller blonde boy made his way down the slide, getting his washed out overalls wet from the sprinkler water that was spraying around the yard.

you two continued to run around while your dad was cooking, admiring the way the two children interacted.

“i bet they’ll get married on day.” he told matt’s dad.

take me back when our world was one block wide

i dared you to kiss me and ran when you tried

later that night, matt and his family stayed past dinner to have a bonfire. matt, being the big boy he said he was, convinced his parents to let him walk up the road to the connivence store with you to retrieve things to make s’mores with. he was nine now, after all. following thirty minutes of being told to stick together and don’t talk to strangers, you and matt made the quarter of a mile trek with the thirty dollars your mom gave you two.

although the walk wasn’t that far, it still was still exhausting seemed to take days, especially to your poor seven year old self. to make the time pass, you and matt threw rocks down the sidewalk, racing each other to see who’d get there first. matt won, but only because you were tired, or so you claimed.

you two began walking again, hands swinging next to one another.

“truth or dare, matty?” you spoke, grinning over at matt, flashing your new grown up teeth that were starting to grow in.

“hmmm,” matt began, already knowing his answer. he shuffled his feet on the sidewalk, trailing behind you slightly to make you look back and laugh. “dare.”

you thought for a moment, trying to come up with a dare. there wasn’t much to do seeing as you two were walking to the store.

“kiss me” you giggled, puckering your lips out at matt. when he began to pucker his back, you ran up the road to the store shrieking.

well, i was sixteen when suddenly i wasn't that little girl you used to see

you and matt stayed friends your whole childhood. constantly at each other’s houses, having after school play dates or movie nights during the weekend. you two were inseparable. over the years, you two began to change, both physically and mentally. you shot up when you were about 12, standing a few inches taller than matt, until he came home from summer camp taller than you again. you two went through the awkward teenage phases together, finally now growing out of it.

today was your sixteenth birthday, and matt was over at your house with his family for dinner and cake. you’d always been pretty to matt, but over the last year he’s watched you grow into the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. you’d grown tall, having long slim legs that seemed to be miles high. your hair stayed the same color, unlike matt’s who’s had turned brunette over time. you started wearing makeup recently, not much, but enough to accentuate your already stunning features.

matt watched you in awe as you blew out your birthday candles, silently hoping you wished for him. after dessert, the two of you found yourselves outside sitting on the swings of the play set you two used to once roam. you looked beautiful underneath the stars, wearing a brand new blue sundress you bought last weekend. you and matt gazed at each other, both secretly wanting more than you had now.

“remember when i used to give you birthday punches?” matt laughed, peering down into his lap and swinging ever-so-slightly.

you giggled, recalling the time he’d accidentally hit you so hard you’d bruised. he cried for days afterwards, he felt so bad.

“do i get any this year?” you asked him, leaning over into him more as he sat next to you, staring back into your blue eyes.

she shook his head. “i can give you something else.”

you didn’t realize how far you two leaned in until you felt his soft lips pressed to yours.

“one”

you smiled lightly as matt pulled away, suddenly feeling them again back on your own.

“two”

this went on well past sixteen, finally letting go of so much pent up feelings towards one another, as the both of you spent the whole night exchanging kisses back and forth on your old play set. at the end of the night he asked you to be his girlfriend.

take me back to the time we had our very first fight

the slamming of doors instead of kissing goodnight

you and matt had been together for two years now. it was late spring, and you got accepted into your dream college. the only problem was the school was on the other side of the country. matt had stayed home after graduation, deciding he wanted to pursue a career in youtube with his brothers. you two were currently yelling back and forth about the future of your relationship.

“it’s not fair for you to leave!” matt argues, running his hands through his messy hair.

“we’ll be fine, matt,” you assured him also sounding upset, “this is my dream we’re talking about here.”

“how do you know we’ll be okay? we’ve spent our whole lives together.” the brunette boy shot back.

you began to feel tears prick your eyes, blinking to keep them at bay. he was right, you didn’t know for sure if you two would make it.

“i waited my whole life to finally be with you, i’m not losing you now.” matt shouted, his eyes becoming red with tears as well.

“you won’t lose me!” you tried to plea, full on crying now.

matt huffed, walking out of your bedroom, slamming the door behind him. you spent the whole night sobbing into your pillow, hugging a sweatshirt you had of matt’s. he’d done the same thing, waking up extra early the next morning to show up to your front door with flowers.

upon seeing your poor boy at the door with red puffy eyes clutching a bouquet of daisies, you pulled him in for the tightest hug you had in you. “i’m sorry pretty girl” he kept muttering into the side of your head, repedealty kissing you over and over again. you spent the day with him cuddling on the couch, legs intertwined with one another as you watched the movie. you were both uncertain about the future, but you had right now, and that’s what was most important.

a few years had gone and come around

we were sitting at our favorite spot in town and you looked at me, got down on one knee

matt decided to go out west with you to school. he couldn’t bare the idea of not being together for four years. he got an apartment that you two shared together, finally being able to wake up next to your favorite person everyday. little mundane things showed the love you two shared. you would wake up early for class, making an extra cup of coffee you’d set out for matt while you both ate breakfast together. you two had shared drawers, often finding his t-shirts mixed into your clothes. matt would always shower while you were in the bathroom getting ready for the day. little things.

it was now the summer after your college graduation, and you and matt were home visiting your families. upon arrival, his mother had sneakily given matt her engagement ring to propose to you with. you had no idea, so when matt had dropped to one knee in front of the connivence store you bought marshmallows from all those years back, you couldn’t contain your excitement.

take me back to the time when we walked down the aisle

our whole town came and our mamas cried

you and matt decided to get married the next summer, right in your old backyard. the once sturdy playground was now old and rotting, so your dad broke it apart and rebuilt it as the archway you and matt stood under as you exchanged your vows.

you both stood facing one another, hand in hand as you listened to the officiant list off the promises you two swore to keep until death do you part. matt looked at you beaming, tears in his eyes as he imagined the future he would share with the girl next door he fell in love with so many years ago.

“you may kiss the bride.” the man spoke as matt pulled you in. he grabbed your waist, spinning you around so he was holding you up as you leaned backwards, kissing you like you were the air he needed to breathe. you both smiled as you shared the moment with your families and friends, something they had all been waiting for since you both were kids.

take me home where we met so many years before

we'll rock our babies on that very front porch

you ended up moving into matt’s old childhood home after his parents moved out of state to retire. you made it a whole project together, updating the wall colors and floorboards, making it your home. you two spent countless days and nights at the hardware store, buying and returning supplies to make sure your new home together was perfect.

you both sat in the center of the living room, the furniture covered in plastic as a fresh coat of burgundy was plastered on the walls. exhausted from the day’s work, you two ordered chinese takeout for dinner.

“when should we tell everyone about the girls?” you asked matt, taking a bite into a spring roll. a few months ago, you found out you were pregnant. at the last doctor’s visit, you two were informed you had twin girls growing inside you. you and matt were absolutely ecstatic, already beginning to prepare the nursery.

“i don’t know, i just hope they have your hair.” he smiled back at you tiredly but with love in his eyes.

after all this time, you and i

a quick six months after that, you brought two beautiful baby girls into the world, who did in fact have your hair. matt loved you three to pieces, constantly attacking you guys with bear hugs when he returned home from long days at work.

becoming a parent was easily the best thing that ever happened to you and matt. you both promised to raise and love your girls as best you could, and you two had absolutely delivered. everyone loved the twins, claiming them to be “angels sent from heaven.”

as time went on, your girls got older, until eventually they were packing up for college, going to the same school you went to. the first few months were rough, you two not being used the quiet in the once loud and booming house. the quiet reminded you of your time before you were a parent, and when it used to just be you and matt.

i'll be eighty-seven, you'll be eighty-nine

i’ ll still look at you like the stars that shine in the sky

you couldn’t have asked for a more perfect life. you spent all your time with the people who loved you the most, something a tangible item could never live up to. you and matt were sat on the porch of your house, waiting for one of your daughter’s to come home from the hospital with her first baby. you looked over at your husband, meeting the blue eyes you fell for so many years ago. you think about all the time’s you’ve shared together, both good and bad. you remember the big things, like being matt’s date to his prom, and the smaller things, like his promise to constantly keep your vases filled with fresh flowers.

you think to way back when you were seven years old, playing in your backyard with matt as your dad’s joked about you two growing up and getting married. oh my my my.

© mattscoquette

𝐚/𝐧: this is one of my fav taylor swift songs i hope u all enjoy reading this much as i did writing it !! matt is so mary’s song coded so i had to do this. i love u all ty for all the love i’ve been getting on my writing!

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: @alorsxsturn @sturniolossss @cammie4298 @bussybandit1 @amorttentia @franticroads @sturnsssbow @cams5sos @strombolilovr @st7rnioioss @junnniiieee07 @mattscurlygirly @simply-a-simper @sturnrc @sturnifyed @freshlovie

[come-on-eat-your-own-pants]

Headcanon to make the timeline work:

The kid Caryn is holding isn't Shermie Pines, it's his son

Okay so think about it. Alex himself has said that though this baby was somewhat intended to be Shermie, it would make no sense time-wise as both he and his son would have to be fifteen or sixteen when they would become a father to get Dipper and Mabel to be the correct age.

Consider. For this theory Shermie is a few years older than Stan and Ford, which would make him about twenty to twenty-two years old when Stan gets kicked to the curb. College age. So let's say he got a little wild in college (or wherever else he is -- perhaps working his first job?) and gets some poor girl knocked up. Of course this is the seventies -- birth control and abortion are a thing, but they aren't as safe, successful and easily accessible as they are now -- so they end up keeping the baby. And Caryn, like any grandmother (source: my mother, who puts up a fight if she gets my brother's kids less than one day/night a week), occasionally looks after the kid so her son can focus on his education (or job). The kid grows up and is about thirty when Dipper and Mabel are born, which is not a very strange age to become a father in the 90s.

I mean, I suppose Shermie could be even older, meaning Caryn would be looking after the kid purely out of grandmotherly love or convenience and not necessarily to give her young parent of a son a break, but it makes more sense to me to have him be college age when he becomes a dad, for mostly one reason: Filbrick. Filbrick Pines explicitly calls Ford their "ticket out of here," which to me reads as Ford being the only son he's really actually proud of, or at least the only son he sees as being actually useful. Perhaps Shermie wasn't as much of a screw-up as Stan, but he also isn't someone Filbrick flaunts. Knocking up a girl would fit that, especially if he had to drop out of college because of it, or something like that.

An argument against this theory could be the absence of Shermie in Stan and Ford's childhood. But honestly: my oldest brother (five years older than me) wasn't that present in my childhood as well. I mean, sure, we did a lot of things together and in a way we were quite close, but we hardly ever played together other than things we did as a family, and he moved out before I even got my first period. This would actually work even better with Shermie being more than a few years older than the Stan twins, because the bigger the age gap, the less interaction there would be.

And of course Stan and Ford are twins, so it would make sense for most of their memories to be of the two of them together. They wouldn't need their older brother so much if they had each other.

Then there is the principal of their high school mentioning to Filbrick and Caryn that they have two sons, which I've seen as an argument for saying that Shermie wasn't born yet at the time (which wouldn't work in any way really because the West Coast Tech admissions team visits the next day, at the end of which this shot of Caryn with the baby is taken, and neither looks like there's been a birth in between the talk with the principal and Stanley getting kicked out). Far more likely to me is that the principal simply didn't know or care about the Stan twins' exact home situation. I mean, it's high school, how relevant is the exact amount of children in a household to a principal? He only has to deal with two, so he only mentions two.

Like, yeah, I know this theory isn't perfect, but the timeline also doesn't really make sense with having the baby be Shermie. I suddenly got this idea, and it works for me, so yeah

[livwritesstuff]

Hazel posts a tiktok that starts with her elbowing her way between her dads where they sit on the couch watching the evening news.

“The people want to know how your Valentine’s Day was,” she says, holding her phone out at arms-length so all three of them are in frame.

“We’re boring old guys, Hazy-Jay,” Eddie reminds her, “Go ask Moe or Robbie or some other young person.”

“Okay,” Hazel pauses, thinking, “Alright, what do you think is your most iconic Valentine’s Day.”

“Iconic?” Steve repeats tiredly, “Does it have to be for a good reason?”

“Any reason.”

“Uh, then probably the time a florist accused me of having an affair.”

Hazel’s jaw drops open.

“What?”

Beside her, Eddie cackles.

“Holy shit – I totally forgot about that!”

“Wait – storytime,” Hazel said gleefully, “Why did a florist accuse you of having an affair?”

“Well, you know how I always get you and Moe and Robbie each your own bouquet of flowers every year?”

“Yeah.”

“Right, so I went to the florist and–”

“Wait, when was this? Like, what year?”

“Uh, you were probably four or five, so 2011, maybe? Are you gonna interrupt me the whole time?”

“No, just that time,” Hazel shakes her head, “Gotta set the scene, Pop.”

“Sure. Anyways, I went to the florist to place the orders or whatever, and the kid working the register at the time was no older than sixteen, probably, and we got to the part where I add a note to each of the bouquets, and, like, I get it, you know? From her side of this, it was three pretty similar messages to three different girls, and I’m sure they see that kind of thing all the time where it’s actually some idiot buying flowers for their partner and the person they’re cheating on them with, so–”

“Yeah, she’s a real one, honestly,” Hazel giggled, “A little confused, maybe.”

“Right, so this girl starts completely laying into me about how shitty I was, and how could I do that, and don’t I care about people’s feelings, and I think that’s when your dad walked in, and–” he looks at Eddie over Hazel’s head, “Do you remember what you did? You, like, you did something that made it very clear that we were together.”

Eddie laughed, “Yeah, I think I said something like almost done, baby? and stuck my hand in your back pocket.”

Hazel wrinkled her nose, “Ugh, don’t be gross.”

“Well, anyways,” Steve continued, “This poor kid looked so confused, and I remember saying something like, yep, almost done getting the flowers for our daughters – really emphasized the our daughters part. She was mortified.”

“Damn,” Hazel says, “Yeah, that's pretty iconic.”

[threepandas]

Bad End: Kept Safe

[Art by Miu_A]

You ever give someone advice, knowing full well they aren't going to take it? Even AFTER they have begged and pleaded and WHINED at you, for hours, for it? Even after they poured their heart and soul out to you? And you, a good friend, carefully and tactfully, tried your best to help? LIKE THEY ASKED?

Ever find yourself the designated "run too dramatically weep in the arms off" friend?

I have.

It is hell. I am in hell.

This is my punishment for all those hours I spent reading and playing Otome Isekai junk instead of, I don't know, solving world hunger or something. Because it HAS to be. I am clearly being punished. Repeatedly. By some sort of petty, petty, anime God.

Fuck you too, buddy.

A fresh round of highly dramatic Protagonist sobbing peirces the air. Dear lord, she has a set of lungs on her, does she? It's like an air siren. But more... upset toddler. It was bizarre. I'd LIKED her as a character. I HAD. Bright and cheerful, determined with a good heart. She'd been a bit naive, yes, but she'd grown. Love had changed her for the better.

But THIS?

This was some middle school "he threw away my secret note, that I didn't sign, so that means he HATES MEEEEE~" bullshit. It went on and on and ON! God, it'd been MONTHS! Years!

I made friends with the Protagonist when we were in The Royal Academy. The story's setting. It SHOULD have finished by graduation. SHOULD. HAVE. But DID it? No! This nonsense had spilled into the COURT! The general population! Actual political factions were starting to get involved!

All because my "friend" COULDN'T PICK A MAN.

And she didn't listen. I tried. God, how I TRIED! No matter HOW I phrased "just fucking TALK to them" it didn't get through her dense fucking skull. I tried taking a break. To calm down. She HUNTED ME DOWN with her little Harem of political trainwrecks!

That poor port city STILL has yet to recover from the chaos they unleashed.

I don't... God, I don't even LIKE her anymore. I've just been reduced to her HANDLER. Forced into girlish tea parties devoid of any taste, because no one ELSE will come. Followed by winces and pitying looks by every lady in all of polite society. The sacrifice to keep HER distracted, lest her gaurd dogs decide its a good idea to do something unhinged again.

It's exhausting.

I'm not even listening.

She seems to have worked through her usual cycle of "cry, mope, what about meeeee~, then I going to go be Plucky at them! Tee Hee~♡!". Good, good. You go have fun, you little train wreck. I'm going to go find an actual ADULT to hide behind.

I have my maids change me out of an outfit that, frankly? I am too old for. I am not sixteen. We are not GIRLS, for the heaven's sake. We are WOMEN. It was a cute outfit. I enjoyed wearing it, back when I was physically young enough that it was appropriate. But even THEN... that's the down side of the whole "isekai" thing.

You keep your mental age.

Everyone around you? INFANTS. Fresh faced babies. You are being flirted with by fourteen year olds and? It is DISGUSTING. They can never be anything more then "cute kids" to you. The characters you once thirsted over? Reduced to actual, living, breathing, pre-schoolers.

There's no going back after that. I'll NEVER unsee it. Can only continue to age, even as they simply... grow up. And then? When they started behaving like FOUR YEAR OLDS? Forget it! I'm beginning to share my parents fears I may die single.

At least I have a refuge. A place of SANITY and SENSE.

I grab the imported wine I had purchased. I'd noticed him drink it before on special occasions. Found a tea seller that was willing to also bring some back. Mother LOVED the tea and my friend was going to love the wine, I could just tell.

Cautiously poking my head out of the guest apartments i was staying in, I checked the hall. Left. Right. Left. Thank god. No Protagonist in sight, she hasn't come back yet. Better hurry though.

I walk fast and keep close to the wall. Ducking into alcoves at every new female voice. Passing servants, Nobles, and the occasional Knight either murmur what they know of Protagonist's last known location or politely pretend not to see me. For anyone else, this would be scandalous behavior. For ME? Well... everyone knew EXACTLY why I was being driven to such extremes.

I thankfully reached the governance wing unmolested. It was far quite and none of the pack of fools ever really set foot here. Not ever the ones who were SUPPOSED to be busy learning their future roles as leaders of this country. God, I could only hope the third prince somehow quietly pulls a coup.

Not that I'd SAY that.

The gaurds don't even bother to announce me, I'm here so often. Merely opening the door. I maintain my decorum none the less. JUST long enough for the doors to finally close and I am able to drop my social mask like whipping of my bra after a long day. Oh thank fuuuuuuck. FREEDOM!

A familiar chuckle, like incense smoke, wafts from the second floor of the office.

"Oh my~, so tired?" My friend muses, his voice that ever lilting purr. I hear him closing whatever heavy tome he's currently studying. "And so early in the DAY! Was it the little nuisance again? Surely she must have SOMETHING better to do?"

Gently putting the wine I'm gifting him on his desk, I then throw up my arms. You would THINK! Wouldn't you?! It's an old complaint. And frankly? I'm glad he still let's me vent about it. It HAS to get old. Yet? He let's me complain anyway.

I met the, roughly translated, "Keeper Of The Shield" at one of the Crown Prince's many ridiculous parties. I was dragged along as Protagonist's plus one. Because GOD FORBID she bring one of her suitors! That might lean towards CHOICE! Can't have THAT!

It was an overly dramatic, gaudy, slow motion trainwreck from beginning to end. I? Got very, VERY drunk. I knew I shouldn't. It was wildly inappropriate. But I was HORRIFIED. Hid near the balconies and drank to forget. Contemplating jumping.

Was likely the only one there my age NOT in ten layers of bows and fabric flowers. It was probably why Crevan decide to talk to me. That and the look of abject suffering. He informed that, sadly, the balconies were locked. But if I planned to maim my self to escape, he could probably boost me up enough to reach the upper windows.

I choked on my drink and guffawd like an idiot. It was SUPER flattering. Very pretty. And honestly? The best conversation I'd had in YEARS. He was droll. Witty. Snarky. In just as much hell as I was. We gleefully narrated the drama playing out before us in as cutting a manner as possible. Grown adults, government officals! Behaving like fucking CHILDREN.

Only after, did I learn I had been chatting with the equivalent of the minister of the Defense. THE commander of our nation's defensive forces. All of them. Knights, army, spies. All of it. And the poor man had been dragged from his desk to play party prop by a glorified teenager. I was horrified. Appalled. Fucking OUTRAGED to learn that it was just... normal!

This country was a nightmare! Otome games are HELL. Lacey, sparkly HELL!!!

But at least I had Crevan to keep me sane. He was always willing to listen. Advise when he could. We had HOPED that Protagonist would start maturing... I'd even mentioned it, but it just seemed like she back slid again and again! Trapping me. Isolating me! Ruining my chances to move ON and have a LIFE!

I don't know what went wrong! Is it me? Am I too hand holdy? It's starting to destabilize the country! Not that the royal family even seems to notice! God no, if it weren't for Crevan, the whole PLACE would have collapsed!

I flop down on my couch. Technically it's not "mine", but honestly? He's fooling no one. The man barely had ANY guest furniture before we became friends. It's totally my couch. (He even got a tea table for us, the softy.)

"Oh? A gift? How thoughtful, dear~" It's only months of friendship that keep from jumping these days. I should get that man a BELL. "Would you like some?"

I can't help but huff a laugh. He always looks to PLEASED when he gets the jump on someone. Startles them. A mischievous asshole, that one. Touchy, too. Forever cupping my cheek or earnestly taking my hand. Patting my head. Guiding me by the elbow or shoulder. He has so few friends... I am certain he is touch starved.

A thought occurs to him, as he pours two cups. A sly grin stretching across his face as he turns to offer me a cup. The wine's scent mixes, burning and delicate, with the ever present smells of incense and his favorite herbal cigarettes. Blurring the senses and relaxing. It's a pretty strong drink.

"You KNOW... it just occurs to me! Darling, if you want to avoid that pest? Why not spend the day HERE? I'd love to have you. " his voice becomes low and serious for a moment, almost catching me off gaurd, bouncing back before I can really think about it. "You could trash my shelves again! Camp out on my couches! It'll be like a little party~ Just you and me! Not a care in the world. You won't have to worry a single thing~"

He grins, glasses catching the light, toothy like the old scheming fox he is.

"I'll keep you nice and safe~"

[edge-of-the-end]

possibly my favourite thing about the rotpl finale is getting confirmation that lydia already knew she was gay. cynthia was going through such a time, and we finally know that lydia was actively protecting herself and in control of the whole situation. the rehearsal kisses? she instigated that with the knowledge that it wasn’t two straight girls, because she clocked cynthia from the get-go and still offered to kiss her for the play, because it was no commitment. she couldn’t be abandoned because the play already had a strict deadline. when cynthia ran away after the pre-play kiss, and avoided her at the dance, she knew she’d gone too far, and that she’d have to pull away and not talk to cynthia so that she could maintain the boundaries that would protect her from heartbreak again. the whole situation gains a whole extra layer because while cynthia might not have had the words to express who she was, lydia did, and the words were deviant and invert and sick, so of course the poor girl, this seventeen (maybe sixteen?) year old girl knew that the world wasn’t safe for her. despite all this, cynthia pulled it back. everywhere lydia hid behind behind femininity and long hair and theatricality, cynthia stuck out like a sore thumb, short haired and feisty and so butch without even knowing what it was, that overtness represented that hope, that the bit of lydia that was hiding could be a little freer. the glances that we see when the teacher suggests more rehearsals can turn into the active looking for each other that we see in the finale because that’s where the balance is, and it shows lydia that cynthia will never deny her. she will see her in public, around her friends, and will say she loves her to nancy, and that is what lydia needs. she spends so much time acting as these characters that she is virtually never herself, and in the hall of mirrors, surrounded by her own reflection, she gets to see that being who she is, a young lesbian in love, might be worth it. that the girl in the mirror, kissing cynthia, can exist and be happy.