#Marco Rose imagine

[footballffbarbiex]

player: unnamed - anyone you want OC: female reader who isn't described. type: smut theme warnings: theme of sugar baby / sugar daddy.

-

the already impressive length of the text you're typing out to a friend is growing longer with each second that passes as you wait for him to come out of the shower. you're perched on the edge of the hotel bed, switching between replying to the texts and doing a little online shopping. the hotel that he's paid for is one of four that he books for these nights with you. he will only have the best room, in the best hotel and it shows.

the floor to ceiling windows boast the best 360 views of the city and you can still pinpoint the exact window that had your silhouette pressed against it like the touch from a ghost, leaving your presence within the room for hours after you've physically left it. the room is simple yet everything screams expensive. the mini bar is stocked with bottles of only the finest of champagnes, wines, and selection of spirits. you've image searched the art and it costs more than what he gives you a month. the bedsheets are the highest quality cotton and silk on a bed that was certainly not flat pack.

by the time you're dropping your phone back onto the bed and debating flinging yourself backwards too, he's stepping out of the bathroom in a blur of condensation and towards you.

"it's a good thing you don't have to pay me by the hour for these visits." you state, taking time to allow your gaze to linger over his body as he steps further into the room. the towel he's wearing is hanging low on his hips, not leaving much to the imagination at all.

"and why is that?" he's not oblivious to the way that you drink him in and there's already tell-tale signs of arousal. his own gaze drags over your body, admiring the new lingerie that he had sent your way as a "thinking of you in and out of this" gift. "You took your time," you comment, parting your legs and leaning back slightly as he fills the gap between your thighs and brings his torso close to yours. he's still slightly damp but you don't mind as you slot to him so perfectly it should be a crime to do so.

"you should already be nice and wet for me since you've been waiting so impatiently." he replies with a slight tone that brings a grin to your lips. he leaves enough of a gap to bring your hand between you both, hand reaching for his cock which is already stiffening against the towel. when your mouth opens to retort, he seizes the opportunity to claim your mouth.

Closing your fingers around his covered shaft, you stroke him ever so teasingly, enough to draw a slight whimper from him. you don't have time to be smug about such a thing, because you can already feel his own fingers brushing over the inside of your thigh and against your underwear.

your hips act with a mind of their own and buck up into his touch before you can stop yourself and you mirror the sound he made only moments ago. this arrangement was supposed to be financial only. and while there were no real feelings involved in a romantic sense, you did enjoy the genuine connection and chemistry that the two of you had which couldn't be bought.

"see," he says, middle finger stroking over the gusset of your panties, feeling the silky soaked patch increase as time ticks by. "so wet." "maybe that was from the thought of how I was going to be spending your money" you tease, and he grins; the action making your teeth clash together a little.

"you know what you did last time?" he asks in a quiet voice before his teeth nibble their way over your bottom lip. all you can do is hum your response as his fingers swipe over your swelling clit. "if you do that again, I'll pay for your shopping spree on top of this weeks payment."

the thought of having him powerlessly at your mercy once more is almost too great of an opportunity to pass up. you'd have done it again for free but if he was offering...

[kickmedown]

courage.

You’re leaning on the counter, sipping on that last bit of the vodka lemon filling your glass, thinking about getting another one or switching to something stronger. You’ve just swallowed the last taste of it when a certain smell just floats around you, trying to make your knees weaker than the strongest shot of alcohol ever did. You do not dare glance behind your back but he will be there in a matter of seconds and you like keeping the distance, after all. 

The bartender removes the empty glass in front of you and you're about to ask for another one when he does it first. 

“Please make two.” and takes the seat next to you. You only move your eyes to meet his gaze which is now steady on you and which is making you think you're about to have the third drink of the night, your head is lighter than it should be and it's not sounding like a good idea at all to have him that close. He licks his lips and you're mentally cursing him for doing that because the serious you is struggling to keep your eyes in his while the very much drunk side of yourself is making you look straight at his mouth. He smirks a little and you turn your head to the full glass in front of you, grateful that you now have a distraction.

“Wait, don't we make a toast?” 

“To what?” he bites his lips shrugging his shoulder, desperately trying to find a reason why you two should have one: he can actually think of many of them but none can be revealed. Not now, at least.

You roll your eyes and let your glass crush with his.

“Are you okay? You've been here all night, all alone. I would have taken this seat much sooner but..” 

“But you're a busy man and busy men do not waste their time next to someone who doesn't give them enough prestige.” you blurt out these words while largely sipping on your drink. You don't even know why you said it but it's out now and he got you well. His eyes go wide and he finally giggles a bit, not knowing how to react to such strong manners.

“Hm.. no.” 

“No? Which part of my sentence is a no? The one referring to you being a business man or..?” you're playing with fire but you've already burnt yourself and you're not feeling any pain anymore. He's now stuck between laughing out loud and grabbing you by your waist to have a closer look. But he just makes a small laugh instead and shakes his head.

“Don't know if you're being teasy or if you're just drunk af.” 

“You can consider both of them but the second one is probably taking the stage right now.” you also give a small giggle while holding the counter just to make sure you’re not landing on your face at the slightest move. He moves a leg forward, just enough to touch the back of your knee and keep you in place, not even knowing that this move can be the real knockout. You sigh and turn towards him completely, revealing your not-so-innocent neckline which now makes him struggle to hold your gaze. He wins the urge to let his eyes wander for a brief moment but when they finally fall on that very attractive detail you wonder if he's on multiple rounds of drinks as well.

“How many did you have tonight?” 

“That's the first one.” 

“Hm, did you have wine before?” he nods, gulping, thanking you for talking to him so that he can at least recollect the decency to look into your real eyes. You smile a bit and take another sip which is leading you to the bottom of the almost empty glass. You don't even need to look at it to know it since you're now feeling dizzy and you know the third one stroke, at last. You close your eyes for a moment and when you open them your sight is blurred and you're getting worried you might not make it home. He stands up and gently puts a hand on your hip, sending shivers from the top of your head to the very tip of your toes. You touch your head as if you could make it stop spinning but you can't and you feel you're loosing it. He puts the other hand on your other hip and you really want to scream to go away because he's the real struggle right now and you can't help but getting lost in it. You place your hands on his arms, just to keep enough balance not to fall, but his smell is insinuating everywhere, his warmth is radiating from his body and you're burning even if you're barely touching him. You hear him mutter something about taking you home but the last thing

you clearly remember is being carried to your couch, heart pounding and sweating your indecency out. 

Monday morning comes like a tidal wave of feelings and numbness. You are stuck between desperately wanting to see him and the urge to hide for the rest of the year. You look at the mirror and see your pale reflection as you start doing your makeup, hoping to hide the last bit of eyerings coming from the weekend. You sigh as you think of him, parking his Mercedes while you take the sight in from far, him nonchalantly stepping out of the car while greeting the other players with a soft smile. He actually is gorgeous in a way that makes your legs shiver and your heart go wild if that smile reaches you, whether intentionally or by mistake. 

When you get to the training ground his car's already there, way sooner than usual. Weird, you think, but you're weirder now since you're basically keeping track of his movements and that's not professional at all. You sigh and run up the stairs leading to your office, greeting your colleagues and the few players already there. You open the door and he's here. You pause with your hand on the handle, heart almost exploding as you spot a light smirk on his way too pretty face. 

“Are you okay?” you carefully ask, voice almost shaking which makes you clear your throat. You step forward and close the door behind your back, starting to open the curtains, acting as if this scene was normal.

“Yes.”

“It's strange seeing you here. You've never walked this door before.” he shrugs his shoulders and stars playing with a pen on your desk.

“Yes, I mean.. I thought about coming to say hi.” you pause for a moment and look at him trying to catch his gaze which he's consciously keeping out of your sight. You cross your arms and starting getting a bit frustrated.

“Okay, then. Hi. What do you want?” he notices the change in your voice and looks at you, like you hit him with a burning cigarette. 

“Wanna go out tonight? Just the two of us. If you're free, of course.” he blurts that out and you immediately feel your cheeks turning bloody red. You gulp and move your eyes away from him as if the answer was anywhere but there. You turn on your PC, moving some paper from here to there, trying not to violently smile while you give your answer.

“Sure, sounds good. Did you think of a place yet?” you dare look at him and he smiling a lot now, not even trying to hide it. He really looks happy but he doesn't know that you're way happier. 

“Not really, I mean.. “

“Would you mind going to a place I know?” he smiles even more now and you start thinking he might have a sort of paresis. Or maybe he's just trying not to laugh at you because he's telling the biggest of jokes and you immediately fell for it. You gulp and your hands are sweaty now.

“Not at all, I would like to.” 

“Alright, then..” 

“Then I'll pick you up at your place.. just let me know when.” 

“I'll text you later. But will you really be there?” he was slowly standing up but pauses to look straight at you.

“Do you think I might not?”

“Yes, I think so.” you put your elbows on the desk and slightly lean forward, holding your breath as his perfume is making you high. 

“You always say I'm an asshole which I might be but I'm not an idiot which I would be, instead, if I don't show up tonight.” he gives you a soft smirk and leaves you there. You let out a small huff, shaking your head. He will give you hard times, you already know that, and you didn't even share a glass of wine yet. 

[shitsndgiggs]

HIIII, I'm back! So basically, I was ✨️inspired✨️ and then I saw your blog, and I thought of an idea, basically either Pau or Lamine have a girlfriend and the whole team is like 'as if' 'if you say so' 'sureeee, you definitely have a gf' and he's like 'BUT I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND', and no one believes him cause they like never see her, but then one day someone spots them out in town and suddenly it's the gossip of the locker room. You can end it however you want, hope you like it, have a nice day/night AND SORRY FOR RAMBLING

SECRET GIRLFRIEND - LAMINE YAMAL

The guys don’t believe that Lamine has a girlfriend

Lamine Yamal x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The atmosphere in the locker room was filled with the usual post-training banter when Lamine strolled in, still sweaty from the session.

His teammates were lounging around, discussing everything from football tactics to the latest gossip. Lamine was in the middle of his usual routine of getting changed when the conversation took a familiar turn.

“So, Lamine,” Fermin began with a playful smirk, “still keeping up the whole ‘mystery girlfriend’ act, huh?”

Pedri leaned against his locker with a grin. “Yeah, if she’s real, where’s the proof?”

Ferran laughed, nudging Pedri. “Yeah, we’ve heard about this ‘girlfriend’ for ages. I’m starting to think she’s just a figment of your imagination.”

Lamine sighed, pulling on his shirt and trying to ignore the teasing. “She’s real, guys. I just prefer to keep my personal life private.”

Fermin chuckled. “Sure, sure. We’ll believe it when we see it.”

Unbeknownst to them, the truth was about to unfold. A few days later, Lamine and his girlfriend, who had managed to keep their relationship private, were out at a local market, enjoying a rare day off together.

They were lost in their own world, completely unaware of the curious eyes around them.

Gavi, a teammate of Lamine’s, happened to be at the market and spotted them. His eyes widened in surprise as he recognized Lamine and his girlfriend, who seemed genuinely happy and affectionate.

He quickly snapped a photo, eager to share this unexpected revelation.

The next day, back in the locker room, the atmosphere was charged with excitement. Marco walked in, his phone held triumphantly in front of him.

“Guys, you are not going to believe what I saw yesterday,” Gavi announced, barely containing his excitement.

The room fell silent as Fermin, Pedri, and Ferran turned their attention to Gavi. Lamine, sensing something was up, looked on with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

“I have proof that Lamine’s girlfriend is real,” Gavi said, showing the photo he had taken. The image displayed Lamine and his girlfriend at the market, clearly enjoying their time together.

A collective gasp rose from the room. Fermin’s eyes widened in disbelief. “No way! She’s real?”

Pedri leaned in closer, his skepticism melting into amazement. “You weren’t kidding!”

Ferran, who had been one of the biggest doubters, stared at the photo in stunned silence before finally breaking into a wide grin. “I guess we owe you an apology, Lamine.”

Lamine’s expression was a mix of triumph and relief. “Told you guys. I wasn’t lying.”

Gavi nodded, clearly pleased with himself for proving the doubters wrong. “She seems really cool. Sorry for doubting you, man.”

“It’s okay,” Lamine replied, his grin widening. “I kept things private for a reason, but it’s nice to finally have it out in the open.”

The locker room buzzed with renewed excitement as the players discussed the photo. The playful teasing had turned into genuine curiosity and respect for Lamine’s relationship.

Later that evening, Lamine and his girlfriend met up for a quiet dinner, where Lamine filled her in on the locker room’s reaction.

“So, I hear I’m officially a ‘celebrity’ now,” she teased, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Lamine laughed. “Seems like it. The guys were pretty shocked when they saw the photo.”

“I’m glad they finally got to see the truth,” she said, leaning in for a tender kiss. “It’s nice to be out in the open, even if it’s just a little.”

“Yeah,” Lamine agreed, squeezing her hand. “It feels good to finally put the rumors to rest.”

[frillsinadress]

NONSEXUAL ACTS OF INTIMACY - REDSONG

characters : shanks , pearl , uta , marco (mentioned) , a secret mention of a certain tragic oc of mine ;)

warnings : angst - some comfort , the threat of character death , feelings of helplessness.

word count : 0.6k

authors note : another of the prompts done! i wanna try to have two done a day, just so its a lot more manageable! but if more getg one, more get done. this was was championed by @loganwritesprobably - who chose the prompt via random number!

prompt : caring for each other while ill (specify which party is which)

shanks liked to call himself a capable man. anything he wished was at his fingertips. feared as a pirate, there were little problems he had to struggle with. 

maybe thats why he felt so helpless, watching her die. he had managed to stave off death so far, but it was an active threat. in the dim lighting of her room, a corner was ignited purely by the embers of her vivre card. pearl belon was at death's door, fighting a rapid infection and serious fever. at first he tried to be playful, especially when the others had managed to gather in a rare moment. his job was to ensure no one was too miserable before pearl, to ease her mind and let her focus on recovery. but as they all left, burdened by their own responsibilities shanks began to falter.

he carefully dipped the towel into the bucket of ice water, squeezing it tightly in his hand and placing it once again on her forehead. pearl softly whined, leading him to coo at her. 

“sorry beautiful, doctors orders.” he whispered, brushing her hair from her face as she shivered. pearl had always been an indomitable woman, steadfast in front of even the most devious of enemies. it was hard to really imagine this being his beautiful pearl. pale-faced and quaky, she had lost a lot of weight in her illness. all they could do was make her as comfortable as possible as they tracked down marco. the doctor could undoubtedly break the fever, and kill the stupid infection once and for all. if she had still been around then well — ah no matter, no point in thinking of avenues that he wasn't willing to go down. at least not yet. shanks was growing more and more tempted to raise gryphon once more to enact revenge that was well overdue. 

but for now he stood guard at her bedside, tending to her through the night. occasionally she broke through to consciousness, and he quickly moved to soothe her worries, gently convincing her that she was not a burden and that while he admired her devotion to him enough to die, shanks much preferred to have his wife alive. 

the door cracked open, and shanks rose his eyes to face whoever dared to intrude. only for his gaze to soften at the sight of his daughter. 

“how's mom doing?” uta asked softly, clinging to the door as she stared down pearl's slow breathing. no doubt she was overanalyzing everything and making the worst appear in that vivid mind of hers. shanks’ eyes shone in sadness as his hand reached out for her. uta's eyes watered, rushing to grab her father’s hand and collapse at his knee, burrowing her face in his lap as she began to sob. shanks sighed softly and combed his fingers through her split-toned hair. it was hard for anyone to watch their parents suffer, and while they all stayed strong it was impossible to expect perfection.

“do you..do you think she’ll live?” uta said between hiccups, looking at her sickly mother. it was hard to say, and shanks didn't want to completely wave away the possibility that they may be having a funeral rather than a celebration of her recovery. 

“you know pearl, she's a strong woman. a crafty one at that— she will do her best i'm sure of it.” he replied, hushing her cries as she desperately tried to hold back. uta felt a wetness on her head and she looked up to a sight she had never seen before. she rose to hug her father as he tightly held her close, the two continuing in their crying. never had the two dreamed to imagine that pearl would be in such a predicament, and there was feasibly nothing they could do but wait.

 it was so terribly difficult to keep their spirits up, sometimes this was warranted. 

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

Grief was no stranger to you — it ebbed and flowed with time; its currents ill-suited to travel for those who were heavily ladened with loss. That was where you came in, offering the comfort of your empathy and gift to those who remained stuck, and to those that passed on. It was how you met him, and it was how you became the light in his otherwise shadowed life.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ☽☾ Grim Reaper!Bucky Barnes x Gifted!F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ☽☾ 1.6k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ☽☾ Heavy angst, referenced deaths (a child + a pet), fluff, comfort

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 ☽☾ Please, heed the warnings I have given. ☽☾ Given what has happened in my life, imagining someone that comforts me as much as Bucky does — as Death — was beyond healing. ☽☾ To those who are grieving, my heart goes out to you — you are loved, and you will make it through, I promise you.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔 ☽☾ Saturn (slowed by palomar) by Sleeping At Last ☽☾ Saturn by Sleeping At Last ☽☾ Adiago for Strings, Op. 11 by Samuel Barber, Leonard Bernstein, New York Philharmonic ☽☾ Goodnight Moon by Marco Beltrami

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒂 ☽☾ @sgt-seabass ☽☾ I want to say a huge thank you to my dear friend — even though I made you sob. You knew what this fic meant to me and you soldiered on, making it so much better. Thank you. 🖤

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ☽☾ @buckybarnesevents Into an Alternate June-iverse 𝗖𝟭— Death AU —  Masterlist

𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Tending to spirits and those passed on was part of who you were. When you were a child, no older than ten years, you had experienced it for the first time – a lost spirit, a young little girl, had called out for help from the corner of your bedroom and had given you one hell of a fright.

She was crying for her mother and father, her dress in tatters and cheeks tear-stained. You learnt that she had wandered out of her family’s backyard and tumbled down an embankment and into a dam.

By the time her mother had found her, it was too late.

You spent the night consoling her, completely at sea for what was happening, and by sunrise, she had vanished into thin air. There were wisps of smoke in her wake, gliding in tendrils to the ceiling and through it. 

Over the many years since that fateful night, you learnt that you were gifted – gifted with the ability to sense, see, and hear those that cannot pass on. And, it was how you met him. 

The Grim Reaper was known and feared by all – the fear of the end, fear of the unknown, hell, fear of death itself. 

You knew of the Grim Reaper, but not in the way that people would have expected. 

“I know you’re there,” you whispered, crouching at the headstone of a decades old grave. The wind whistled quietly through the empty branches of the trees above you, and you looked over your shoulder, smiling slightly at the formless haze of black mist. “You can’t sneak up on me. You know that.”

“One of these days,” a deep voice said, and you could just hear the pout in their tone. “I will manage to surprise you.”

“I would hope not, Bucky.”

The haze warped and formed a solid body – a tall figure in a billowing cloak, a charming smile, and piercing blue eyes upturned in a dramatic eye roll. “Semantics.”

You stood from the grave and turned to face him, crossing your arms. Your show of defiance softened his gaze, and he smiled softly. The moon shone above, and under the curtain of his dark hair, you could see the wisps of smoke that made up his face falter and flicker, showing his true form. 

“I have missed you, my darling,” Bucky whispered. 

Bucky’s embrace was cold, but no less comforting as he squeezed you to his chest. “Me too,” you said, smiling at him as you pulled away. “I was just tidying up. Walk with me?”

“Of course,” Bucky smiled. The roses you had held in your hand felt all the lighter for his presence, and you grabbed his offered elbow, leading him down the row of old graves to place fresh roses when a quiet whoosh sounded behind you. Bucky looked over his shoulder, and his smile turned saddened. “I see you haven’t managed to help this little one.”

Following his gaze, you withered, sniffling slightly as you watched the little ball of bright mist follow in your footsteps. The sound of your grief gave Bucky pause, and his hand came to rest on your cheek. “What is it?”

“I miss them so much.” A flicker of despair shot through Bucky’s usually bright gaze, and you sobbed. “I can’t do it-”

“Breathe, darling,” Bucky urged, pulling you close. His arms were tight across your shoulders and back, and you broke; months of grief and pain hit you all at once. “I’m here, my precious. I have you. I’m so sorry.”

Bucky held you close, letting you grieve in his arms and absolve you of your pain. He knew how cruel it had been to take away your smallest, closest friend – he hadn’t wanted to do it, he had begged and pleaded for things to be different, but it didn’t work. Nature took its course, and he had cursed that day to high heaven. 

Moments passed until you were finally able to breathe, and you clutched at his chest, his arms, just to feel him – to know he was real. 

“Here,” Bucky said softly, and he gestured to the ball of mist until it brightened and expanded into the form of your best friend. “They can walk with us, after all,” he paused, a small smirk forming on his pale lips. "Not everyone cares as much as you for these souls, my darling. At least, not enough to leave flowers for those that have long since moved on.”

“Oh, baby,” you rushed, and Bucky let you go so you could kneel in front of the spirit of your best friend. “I have missed you.”

A quiet noise of greeting sounded from the mist, and Bucky pulled you gently to your feet, his free hand now holding the bouquet of roses. “What have you been up to?”

The two of you walked through the cemetery, placing roses at every grave that lay bare as you spoke and told him all about your life as a mortal, and Bucky hummed and occasionally interjected with a sly smile or a shake of his head. “How about you?” You asked, smiling at him. 

Bucky only shrugged, the movement shifting his long hair and causing a stray wisp of mist to expose his shoulder. “It is as it always has been,” he offered, smiling sadly. “I can only offer so much comfort to those whose time has come, but they remain afraid of me nonetheless.”

“You’re kind, Bucky,” you hastened to say, pulling him to stop, and he looked into your face sullenly – defeated. “You always have been kind, and you have never taken someone when it wasn’t their time. You cannot help what nature intended, even if it hurts, I know that,” you added softly, staring down at the bright bounding form at both your feet. “Without you, it would be something else, and whatever they may be, they would not be as compassionate as you.” 

“But they are afraid of me,” Bucky interjected, gesturing at himself. “I do not want to hurt them, I do not want to cause pain, I-”

“You are my Bucky. You are the love of my life, and even if I cannot truly have you, you will always have my heart – I am the moon,” you begin, clutching at his hands and giving them a slight shake. “My heart will always love and welcome the dark. You are not at fault for how nature is. Do you understand me?”

Silence echoed amongst the graves. Your heavy breaths made your shoulders rise and fall as you stared at Bucky, pleading for him to realise – to understand. 

“Are you afraid of me?”

The question split your heart in half with its severity, and you exhaled sharply. “No.”

“No?”

“No,” you affirmed, stepping into his space. “No, I am not afraid of you and will never be afraid of you.”

The graveyard fell away, bit by bit, and you pulled Bucky into your chest. It wasn’t just you who was grieving, hurting with the heavy burden of pain. “Walk with me,” you whispered into Bucky’s hair. Taking hold of his hand, you pulled back to smile at him. “We have many more flowers to place.”

A heavy silence settled in the air while you guided Bucky through the headstones, smiling softly at the mist excitedly running amok at your feet still. The illumination of the moon lit your path to an ancient grouping of gravestones, the marble and stone crumbling under the weight of age. “I have to try and restore these,” you pondered aloud, gently touching one of the many splits in the stone, when you paused. You felt eyes watching you, and you looked up to see Bucky a step away, gazing at you sadly. “What?”

You tilted your head, frowning, but before you could open your mouth to speak, Bucky started, his voice laced with unfathomable pain. “I have to go, my darling, and I have to take them,” he gestured to the glowing mist with a pale hand, “with me.”

“I know.” Leaves crunched under your shoes as you knelt to face your best friend, and you felt the cold touch of their nose against yours. “I could never hate you, Bucky. Never.”

Bucky stepped closer then, and you rose to meet him. “After all, my love,” you began softly, moving your hands to hold his head and gaze. “I will see them again when my time comes. It’s not the end. It’s just goodbye for now.”

A heavy breath left Bucky’s lips, and you pulled him closer, kissing him tenderly and he kissed back in earnest, his hands moving to your waist to grip you tightly. 

When Bucky pulled back, you stared at him through glassy eyes, and you felt the cold touch of his hand against your cheek as he brushed the tears away with his thumb. “My angel, always my strength.”

“Always,” you whispered, and Bucky smiled sadly.

“Until I see you again, my darling,” Bucky said, his form starting to waver. “I love you.”

“I love you more, Bucky,” you said, your voice stronger than you felt. The ball of mist at your feet made a soft sound, and you glanced down. “I will see you again, baby, you take care of Bucky for me, okay?” The mist bobbed up and down in the air and you grinned. “Thank you, baby.”

The mist that Bucky had appeared from took him away with another soft whoosh, and you fell to your knees, the burden of grief not lifted, but lightened. 

For what is grief, if not the perseverance of love?

he may, or may not come back. because he now has a very dear place in my heart.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑  ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

[onmyyan]

scorpio anon got me feelin some tingz with that time machine ask and now im brainrotting on how our boys would be if you took their virginity so, lemme set the scene

Reader is a bad gal okay? She's not completely stupid but maybe a bit of a bimbo and word on the street is She's got good pussy. Somehow (idk how) the boys end up choosing her as their darling so ofc they need to get it in right? Ok ok anyways this is how i imagine they would be like puttining it in for the first time

Cas: im sorry but he cums before he even puts it in. Literally creams his pants when you push him down and sit on his face and then cums again once he gets his fat tip in 🤧

Gabe: mans is TOO excited, literally laying back so ready to lose his v card, maybe reader teases him a bit for being a cherry boy so he slams her on his dick (gabe no 💀) but luckily she's wet so he just bounces her like that

Ricky: babygirl is so nervous, he's got the candles and rose petals set up (something cas told him) and he's horny gripping the sheets behind your head until you sit him down and calm him down and tell him its ok before you ride him. Baby thought he needed to be the top bc he's a man 😞

Marcos: ohhhh lawd, you started it all for him. Reader is prolly his tragic backstory 💀 like she popped marcos' cherry and he was ready to get married and then she was fuckin someone else the next day so he did the same to get her attention but never got it lmao. I think he'd last surprisingly long, second only to....

Manny!!! Baby is feral and somehow never cums? Like he's the virgin but he's the one eating your ass out, eating you upside down literally doin all kinds of weird foreplay, u literally gotta tie his ass to the chair finally get him in you and then he's sooo babygirl but he's got such endurance, he'd be the best service top ugh

Ashley would be childhood sweatheart kinda beat, he would lose it in one of the fields between your two houses aftwr he fucking finally confesses to you and he goes from your shy hot best friend to daddy out of nowhere 😭 possessive fucking and telling you that youre his now, no more games (and mayhaps he knocks u up on the first try 👀)

-shamelessly gonna rip this but can i be ♌️ anon

You are so smart,,,,,ohmygod???? The Manny one had me blushing n biting my pillow bec??? Hello??? You're so smart ??? Also Ashley absolutely the type to get you pregnant that first time just because of how damn near feral he gets also also the idea of being the woman who breaks Marcos heart initially and turning him into the slut he is?!?!?! Chefs kiss all around I love how your brain works 👩🏼‍🍳😘

♌ anon it is ❤️❤️❤️

[thevagabondexpress]

let's take a closer look at christopher, matthew, and their shared love of downworld, shall we?

On the surface, when you read them, Matthew Fairchild and Christopher Lightwood are wildly disparate characters. They have almost nothing in common. But then we get to the Shadow Market in Chain of Iron, and suddenly—suddenly Christopher Lightwood is a whole different man from the owlish, absentminded, socially inept little being we see around his friends and among the Enclave in general.

He's street-smart, avoiding the dangers of the Shadow Market with the practiced ease of many, many visits, he haggles like an expert (to quote Cordelia), and what's more, he's openly Nephilim in a place that seems to generally despise Shadowhunters and yet he and the vendors are familiar, even friendly with each other, Christopher chats as comfortably as he haggles, and in general he seems far more comfortable there than he does among the Nephilim of the Enclave, even those he considers his closest friends.

Up until then, Matthew and Anna were the characters we associated with Downworld. They frequent the Hell Ruelle, and are welcome and beloved there, and it's made clear that Matthew adores the Downworlders and their way of life, watching with starstruck eyes and longing to join in.

Matthew is the Downworlder lover extraordinaire—or is he? Hypatia states quite plainly in Chain of Gold that Matthew is welcomed into the Ruelle because he's pretty and amusing: he's there as a lovely plaything, a pawn of the other guests, a runed curiosity who can't seem to keep it in his pants and doesn't seem to realize that he can say no. The way he's treated by the Hell Ruelle is exploitative at best. And in the Shadow Market? He's swindled and snubbed like everyone else. Matthew adores the Downworld, but he looks at it through glittering rose-colored glasses, viewing it with the fetishized fascination for the exotic of a British colonist writing a travelogue of the Near East. He's Lawrence of Arabia, Marco Polo, Gertrude Bell.

Christopher in the Shadow Market, by contrast, is one of them already. "Christopher Lightwood!" one vendor calls. "Just the man I was hoping to see!" Granted, I don't know how they'd treat him if he wasn't such an extravagant spender but I imagine he would still be welcomed, if perhaps not hailed so loudly. But why? Christopher isn't scandalous, or extravagant. From everything we've seen he holds himself to high standards and lives a fairly clean lifestyle: he doesn't sleep around, he doesn't smoke, he doesn't do drugs or drink to excess.

But at the same time, while Matthew does do those things, he also gets treated like a toy by the Ruelle, and I am willing to bet you the moment he puts his foot down and says no to somebody, they'll stop letting him in.

Christopher, on the other hand, is humble. We're shown frequently through his interactions with his friends and family and other members of the Enclave that he doesn't place himself higher and believe himself better than anyone else. Neither does he seem to buy the prejudices those around him seem to hold: why should women, or Downworlders, or people of color, be considered lesser than someone else? He considers everyone on equal footing in that respect and judges them based on who they are as individual persons. And even then he shows a great capacity for leniency and forgiveness: he's the first of them to accept Grace, and while he goes along with his friends' hatred of Alastair in spirit, his actions don't suggest he really dislikes Alastair that much at all (except when he's insulting Anna, that is).

We see all of those behaviors from a distance in the Shadow Market scene, in the way he haggles and chats with the vendors and the fact that he doesn't seem either afraid of or bedazzled by the Market at all.

Ultimately, Christopher surpasses Matthew when it comes to knowledge of and position within the Downworld. Where Matthew treats the Downworld like a curio cabinet, and is exploited for his hedonist nature in turn, Christopher treats the denizens of the Shadow Market as equals, and receives equal treatment back from them, welcomed as a customer, a regular, yea even a friend.

TL; DR, Christopher has always been the true Downworlder spirit, and Matthew needs to wake up and put his foot down before he gets himself seriously hurt—again.

[lale-txt]

Raffle Prize: Riot w/ Whitebeard & gn!reader

a/n: 3rd raffle prize for my beloved @secretsnailor (っ˘з(˘⌣˘ ) ♡ Bee asked for a scenario where reader gets injured during a battle and Whitebeard just goes off with some comfort afterwards. my dear, it's always so much fun writing Whitebeard for you, thank you for the fun prompt and congrats again for being one of the lucky winners! ♡

contains: mention of blood (nothing super descriptive but reader suffers a hit on the head)

word count: 1k

It all happened within the blink of an eye.

You had let your guard down, irritated by someone calling out your name in the midst of the battle. Was it your imagination? Was it one of your comrades in need of help? It was impossible to figure out what was happening in the storm of voices and gunshots surrounding you, the sound of swords clashing ringing in your ears. In the corner of your eye you made out a kaleidoscope of blue and orange flames, and somewhere to your right you noticed Izou and Thatch standing back to back as they made the enemies drop like flies.

Panic rose in your chest when you couldn’t make out the broad silhouette of Whitebeard in the fray; you would have assumed that a man of his height would be easy to spot, but he had disappeared from your sight completely. Did something happen to him? Was it him who called out your name? You slashed at some foe who had the audacity to underestimate you and just when you were about to move forward, a sharp pain flashed through you with an intensity that drove you to your knees. The back of your head was throbbing, you felt dizzy, trying to understand what just happened.

You tried to breathe through the pain with gritted teeth, your vision blurry from the impact and blood dripping down your face. Leaving your back unguarded, what a foolish mistake. All because your heart had yearned for Edward, sorrow bubbling up in it and making you drop your guard before you could have convinced yourself that he was fine; he was the strongest after all. You whined as you reached for the open wound. Nothing Marco couldn’t fix, but until then you somehow had to make it out of here alive.

“What happened? Who did this to you?”

A voice so low and threatening, a big hand scooping you up carefully. You feel warm skin against yours and don’t need to open your eyes to know that he was here now, that you were safe. Your fingers claw into his coat while you still try not to black out from the pain pulsating through every fiber of your body. You mumble out Edward’s name weakly, making him tense up, blind rage flaring up in his stomach – caused by seeing the love of his life hurt like that, by his own irresponsibility to leave you unguarded for a heartbeat, by the horde of bastards who were foolish enough to pick a fight with his family in the first place.

He’s gonna bring them down, one by one.

You feel Whitebeard’s grip around your waist tighten and hear him calling out for Marco, his voice roaring over the battlefield. His whole body vibrates under your fingertips and you can’t tell if it’s the adrenaline rushing through his veins or if it’s his devil fruit ability, barely contained. He puts you down near some big rock, hidden away from the eyes of others by the tall grass surrounding it.

Your vision is still blurred and you can feel your consciousness slipping away slowly, but you don’t fight it – with Whitebeard’s big calloused hand brushing over your cheeks he reassures you that you’re safe now. A few heartbeats later and you make out Marco’s voice, the two men talking in hush voices, until you feel the soothing cold of the phoenix’ flames encasing you. You sigh from the instant pain relief.

“See? All patched up, yoi.” Marco rests a hand on top of your hand and turns toward Whitebeard. “What now, pops?” “I’m gonna put an end to this.”

You rest your still throbbing head against the rock, grateful for Marco’s healing powers, and rub your eyes, blinking away the blood and the dirt, enough to see Whitebeard’s broad back as he walks into the midst of the battlefield, one fist clenched around his naginata. The jolly roger tattoo is hit directly by the sun and once again you’re reminded of how deep his love and devotion runs – for his found family and for you.

The whole air seems electrified once he goes off, unleashing the incredible power he holds and teaching the foe a lesson on humility. You hear the cheerful cries of your crewmates as you lean back smiling, letting the rumbles of his devil fruit powers comfort you. Marco standing next to you whistles through his teeth and flies off once again after exchanging a smile and making sure that you’re okay, knowing well that a certain someone will come pick you up in a heartbeat anyway.

And so when a little later your favorite voice calls out your name, you open your eyes again and beam, reaching out for him to pick you up. Whitebeard is gentle with you, a sheer contrast to the way he just routed the other crew a few minutes prior. He has both hands wrapped around you and lifts you up close to his face where you nuzzle in the crook of his neck, your fingers twirling around the golden curls of his. You feel his pulse under you, heart still beating fast from the rush earlier, and whisper his name against his skin. 

“I’m sorry for letting you out of sight. Does it still hurt?” You shake your head and smile when he places a kiss on your cheek, handling you as if you were made of glass. “I was just being reckless for a moment. And because I couldn’t make you out in the crowd…”

You mumble the last part, a little bit flustered, but Whitebeard just laughs out loud, his whole body shaking from it. He squeezes you tighter and seeks your gaze, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. The way he looks at you can only be described as full of love and longing. After all, you are the owner of his heart; cracked it wide open and filled it with flowers, written your name all over its walls. 

“Now let's get you home. After this day all I’m craving is some booze and lay down with you…”

[barbwritesstuff]

Can you talk some about your character creation process? I know its most evident in Sergi but I'd love to hear how some of the other characters changed over the course of writing. Mainly asking about Blood Moon just because with TT still in development I imagine those guys are all still wiggling around

Okay, some random Blood Moon examples:

Farro's shyness. My original concept was just "lumberjack dad" but when he appeared on page his shyness was immediate and obvious. I was like 'okay... we can work with this...' and I think it did work in more ways than one, but it wasn't built into his original concept.

Vicky's gentleness. She was always meant to be the warrior with a traumatic past (Batman and Xena as inspirations) but I didn't know that would translate into her being super soft in romantic situations. But, that worked so well and made so much sense.

Marco's tattoos having special meaning for him as part of his transition. He got rose tattoos at first because I thought that sounded cool. Literally just that. No other reason. When the character turned around and said 'oh, by the way, I got a new rose everytime I felt like I needed to cut off my tits but couldn't. I decided to leave my pack and transition during this last rose'... That was a surprise to me.

Everything Sergi. He was meant to be a background character, the slightly more jokey version of Nikolas. He really clawed his way up from the bottom.

[ejunkiet]

wip wednesday~

marco brain rot has been real. here is a snippet of a sequel to say it again / bioluminescence , as my theory about marco having a praise kink is still going strong >:3

blood moon if ( @barbwritesstuff): marco/mc. post-game, some spoilers!

--

You’re doing so well, Marco

You don’t miss the hitch in his breath, or the way his eyes narrow at you, piercing blue over the heads of the rest of your pack. You don’t miss the subtle shift in his scent either, the tang of it sweet on the air, or the flush that rises to his cheeks as Addie snorts, throwing you both a knowing look.

There’s a thrill to it, working him up in a space like this. Knowing that he can’t act on it, can’t do anything but wait.

(There’s a lot of work left to do, he’s going to be waiting a while.)

You’ve never minded getting your hands dirty. Hell, after the mess of the last few months, the confrontation with Blackwell and its aftermath, it’s a relief to be free from the stench of undead blood. A little sweat and exertion is nothing.

Besides, it’s a good look on him. Marco has always been stronger than he looks, wiry muscle on a lean frame, but there’s no masking his strength now, the loose tank top he’s wearing leaving little to the imagination. You can see everything, the way his muscles flex as he moves, tight with the motion and the heat of late summer.

(The dark lines of the roses tattooed on his skin gleam under a sheen of sweat, and you can’t help but remember how you’d mapped the shape of them last night, with lips and teeth, the taste of his sweat sharp on your tongue.)

You swallow around the thought, flexing your grip on the sledgehammer in your hands. But your distraction doesn’t go unnoticed, and Marco pauses, his nostrils flaring as he breathes in, deep, before his blue eyes find yours again, and he gives you a sharp grin.

“Okay, that’s enough.” You blink as Addie pushes herself to her feet, her steely gaze stern over the thin wire frames of her glasses. “You’re both too distracted for this work. Out.”

“But-”

“No ‘buts’. If you two are going to keep making moon-eyes at each other, someone is gonna have an accident.” 

Marco winces, a flush rising up the pale skin of his neck, vivid under the fluorescent lights, and you want to taste it, feel the heat of it against your lips. 

You shake your head, banishing the thought as you raise your hands, palms out, in surrender. “I’m sorry, Addie. We’ll do better, I promise.”

She lets out a low huff, her eyes sharp and disapproving as she glances between the two of you. The flush spreads across Marco’s cheeks, until you think he’s gonna burn beneath it, but just before he cracks, she relents.

“Look. We can handle the rest.” She shakes her head as you open your mouth to speak, a wry smile tugging at her lips as she shuts you down. “You’ve both done good work, and you’ve earned a break. Now go.”

--

tagging- you, reading this! also (no pressure!): @evilbunnyking @serenpedac @androleda @pinksparkl @romirola @dominimoonbeam @glassbearclock @slushrottweiler @lovelylonerliterature @k9rage

[footballffbarbiex]

The Single Parent Series.

Me? In love with the concept of a baby daddy? Always.

Mixed players rather than one series about one player. Enjoy. If this goes well, I'll be happy to take more of these requests.

Darwin Nunez: his little girl loved Darwin's braids and wants her own but he can't do them. A trip to the hairdressers results in a hair style class.

Leon Goretzka: his best friend is the only one who can calm down his toddler and Leon has to admit his feelings when it becomes too much.

Leon Goretzka: Leon finds himself falling for a woman who is part of his daughter's life, but the age gap between them proves to be an issue.

Marco Rose: Marco is stressing over his daughter's ballet recital and so in comes the bestie to help him stop stressing.

Marco Rose: Moving back to Leipzig, Marco finds out that his child's favourite teacher just so happens to be an old flame.

Marco Rose: they become friends at the school gates and their children begin to have play dates at one another's house.

Marco Rose: very guarded following a messy divorce and she shows him that he's also very much a man and needs to think of himself too.

Mario Hermoso: best friends and she's there when he needs her the most

Mario Hermoso: Meeting at parent and toddler group.

Mason Mount: after becoming a single dad following a one night stand, Mason's best friend takes part of the hardship and helps to raise the little one.

Mason Mount: your child calls Mason daddy for the first time and even though you're not together, it makes Mason burst with pride.

Mats Hummels: his child comes home from school with news of a school bake sale but Mats cannot bake. Thankfully for him, his best friend is a pastry chef and she can bake.

Oscar Mingueza: he's on a first date when he gets a call to say his babysitter is having to leave due to a family emergency. His date doesn't want to cut it short and is happy to go babysitting.

Ruben Dias: Ruben likes his daughter's ballet teacher but the feelings aren't reciprocated…or are they?

Sergio Ramos: she's Sergio's coach's daughter and when he has childcare issues and has to bring his child to training, she steps up to help with homework.

Trent Alexander-Arnold: she doesn't follow football and has no idea how who he is, and has no idea that he has a child until she hears the little one calling Trent daddy.

[quinloki]

Rose petal! What traditions do you and your F/O share?

Hmmm… traditions are a hard thing to nail down sometimes because you don’t realize what they are. So we’ll go with some big ones and any small ones that come to mind while I’m working on this.

Thanks to this song:

I imagine 100% that the biggest tradition with Kid and his crew is Christmas - or whatever title/label/alternative you want to use for what’s effectively a massive winter feast.

I think the whole crew gets into it - and it’s loud and full of laughter and cheer and a few fights and a lot of beer and certainly an exchange of “gifts”, be they sincere or severe xD it’s always been a positive holiday for me, so it’s certainly a tradition close to my heart.

With Marco I think a spring festival is more the shared tradition, or a harvest festival - something that rings in the days of plenty or something that pays homage to preparing for the days of lean.

It’s the transitional vibe of it more than anything. Maybe cause he transforms, and what he transforms into is itself an allegory of transition.

But these festivals are usually centered around food and family and less around gifts and giving. Not that I think he’s against gifts in either manner, but the more familial vibe also draws him in. (Also pineapple hams are a big part of both feasts for me growing up xD so there’s that too!)

Sabo I think is good for anything that lets him celebrate with Ace and Luffy xD birthday parties, new years, etc. he’s not big on tradition for the sake of it, but he’ll utilize the foundations of it to build up what brings him and his closest joy.

Alas, for better or worse that’s all I have for this right now , Harley has commandeered my lap

[theroseandthebeast]

Yuletide Recs, Batch Four

18 recs for North and South, The OC, Ocean's 8, Ocean's Eleven, Only Murders in the Building, Penny Dreadful, Peter Pan, Piranesi, Point Break, and Poker Face

Keeping True, Gen, John Thornton + Hannah Thornton + Fanny Thornton + Maria Hale + Nicholas Higgins + Mill Workers

Five views of Mr Thornton.

"if you weren't real i would make you up", Ryan Atwood & Summer Roberts + Seth Cohen/Summer Roberts

Tell the truth, but tell it like it’s a lie. Ryan Atwood grows up, and his relationships grow up with him.

Magpie, Ryan Atwood & Sandy Cohen + Ryan Atwood & Kirsten Cohen + Ryan Atwood/Marissa Cooper

Going fast enough, there was motion to it, and shape. The wires dipped in-between the poles, then curved back upward, then back down again - a never ending parabolic curve, like a child's drawing of ocean waves. He would imagine different creatures running on top of the wires - tigers, pandas, lions, cheetahs, or even a little miniature version of himself - running and leaping, keeping up with the car. He'd follow the horizon this way too - holding up one of his toy army men and lining up its legs with the line where the land met the sky. On the interstate, outside of the city, driving past farms and craggy hills and suburban enclaves, bunches of houses crowded up in little clusters like fungus erupting through the cracks in a tree's bark - everything looked like a toy. Like he could roll down the window and just scoop everything up, pull the whole world inside to look at it closer.

Encountering the Nova, Lou Miller/Debbie Ocean

Galaxies of women, there doing penance for impetuousness. Debbie and Lou meet cute.

somebody else's wallet, Danny Ocean/Rusty Ryan

When you look at another man for too long, you risk giving several things away.

What Really Happened with Marco, Danny Ocean/Rusty Ryan

Rusty visits Danny's grave, and remembers. Meanwhile, everyone has a story to tell about Danny and Rusty.

in the meantime, wait and see, Oliver Putnam/Charles-Haden Savage

Mabel Mora loves her old guys dearly, but she is getting tired of them sabotaging each other’s love lives.

1/3 Of What You're Saying, Theo Dimas/Mabel Mora

She dreams of puzzle pieces again, that first night at Theo’s. (Mabel and Theo as roommates, figuring it out.)

An Ingenue Looks at Seventy, Loretta Durkin/Oliver Putnam

Maybe this time, Loretta will get everything she ever dreamed of. Or at least a bigger piece of it.

ignition, Theo Dimas/Mabel Mora

“So, do I need to be worried about you getting with a murderer too, or can I reserve that particular worry for Charles and Charles alone?” Or, everyone seems to know before they do.

Dark Days Coming, Ethan Chandler/Vanessa Ives + Ethan Chandler & Vanessa Ives + Vanessa Ives/Hecate Poole + Ethan Chandler/Hecate Poole

Hecate makes a plan.

Somebody to Watch Over Me, Wendy Darling/James Hook

The Hook she had made up would never smile at a girl as if she were the most interesting person in the world and then tell her that of course, he would patiently await her decision.

Growing Pains, Wendy Darling/James Hook

Wendy knew Hook wasn't propositioning her to join his crew out of the non-existent goodness of his heart. Enchanting his eyes might be, but the coldness in them seeped right into her bones.

The Sixth Statue, Gen, Piranesi | Matthew Rose Sorensen + The House

Matthew Rose Sorensen explores the House.

The Reality of Shadows, Gen, Sixteen | Sarah Raphael

"And when he remembered his old habitation, and the wisdom of the den and his fellow-prisoners, do you not suppose that he would felicitate himself on the change, and pity them? Certainly, he would. … Yes, he said, I think that he would rather suffer anything than entertain these false notions and live in this miserable manner." - Plato, The Republic

The Waters below the Nineteenth Eastern Hall, The House + Piranesi | Matthew Rose Sorensen

Between the Eleventh and Fifteenth days of the Sixth Month in the Year the Albatross Came to the South-western Halls, there are days for which nothing was recorded. To fit into that space: a reflection on certain surprising Elements of the House.

lay my heart down, Bodhi/Johnny Utah

“Hey,” Bodhi says, soaked right down to the bone. “Room for an old friend?” Johnny takes a step back like he’s seen a ghost. “What the fuck?”

Ways to Disappear, Charlie Cale/Original Female Character

Charlie finds a place to stay awhile.

[rumbelleshowdown]

Author: Rose Daughter

Prompts: Every day. Monster, fear, cold sweat. Celebrity.

Group: B

-

Tomorrow

“You’re late, dearie.”

Belle jolts, whirling around, her feet skidding on the shelf of wet rock. She manages to keep her balance, wobbling on the edge of the crystalline pool. Two dark eyes bob above the water, sharp and observant, unsympathetic to her flailing.

“I’ve told you not to sneak up on me like that,” she huffs.

The creature lifts further out of the water, looking menacing with his mane of matted curls hanging in his face. Then, he shakes his head like a wet dog and grins.

“Your lack of spa-cial aware-ness has naught to do with me.”

The words are stodgy in his mouth, so he pronounces them slowly. These were acquired from the book she read aloud to him yesterday. Rumple’s mind was a funny wee lagoon; when she cast new words into it, they usually resurfaced as ammunition to tease her.

He slithers to the pool’s edge, moving through the water like an eel. He props his elbows up on the rocks.

“You’re late,” he says again.

“How can you even tell?”

His crocodilian eyes shift to a silver pocket watch that dangles from a knobbly finger of overhanging rock. It looks suspiciously like the one that used to hang from a fob on Jefferson’s waistcoat.

Belle’s lips press into a thin line. “Yes, well, it’s becoming quite tricky to leave my house without being badgered about another ‘recovery mission’. I think I might need to start charging for my services. You’re becoming too…popular in the village.”

Notorious is a more appropriate term, but she knows he would enjoy that label far too much.

It is not uncommon to see Finfolk off the coast of the Orkney Islands. It is, however, unheard of to catch more than a glimpse of talon and tail as they steal a fish off the end of your line. They don’t linger near the shore. And they certainly don’t take up residence in a grotto at the base of the headland, transforming the limestone ledges into a personal museum of pilfered trinkets.

“I hear you’ve been tipping rowboats again,” she says.

“Shouldn’t have rowed so close to the cave,” he trills, “Def-ini-tely shouldn’t have been out on the water if you don’t know how to swim.”

Rumple’s behavior has elevated him from overgrown sardine to local celebrity; a spectacle at the best of times and a menace at the worst. And when Belle’s routine visits to the grotto became public knowledge, the villagers thrust a title upon her as well. Hostage negotiator.

She scans the cave, searching for possible new additions to his hoard. She feels like she’s playing one of those ‘spot the difference’ games they print on children’s menus. Ah, there. Coiled around a stalagmite is a heart-shaped locket, its ruby pendant winking in the reflection of the pool.

“You know, Miss Lucas used to have a necklace just like that. She took it off to swim one afternoon and, by the time she’d paddled back to the docks, it had vanished.”

“Extra-ordin-ary coincidence.” His expression might have looked innocent on a small boy or a puppy, but it only succeeds in making him look all the more devilish.

Belle shakes her head and bends down to unravel the locket. She pockets it, ignoring his cry of protest.

“And I’m going to need the tackle box you nicked from Marco’s boat.”

He scowls up at her. She can just imagine his tail flicking with irritation. He must have known she’d come asking for that particular prize, as he’d stashed it beneath the water rather than displaying it above.

“What if I trade you for it?” she offers.

His gaze darts to the basket cradled in the crook of her arm. His furrowed brow gives a faint twitch, his resolve instantly weakening. Hook. Line. Sinker.

With a profane grumble, he ducks back under the water. His vocabulary has been increasing in color ever since he started spying on the sailors at the docks.

Belle watches him disappear into the deep as she sits down at the pool’s edge and begins unlacing her boots. She has learned the hard way that heels have rubbish traction.

Some say that jewelry and fishing gear aren’t all that the Fin like to steal. The villagers tell tales of those that have been ferried away to a kingdom beneath the waves. The legends serve as requiems for the men and women who were dragged to the depths and eternally imprisoned in unlawful marriages to the Fins that snatched them. Belle thinks that’s nonsense. The Finfolk detest humans and – typically – want as little to do with them as possible. It would be like kidnapping a cockroach from the gutter to keep as a pet.

Still, the superstition persists. Even when begging her to rescue his tackle box from the sea beast’s lair, Marco had cautioned, “Be careful, girl. He’ll steal you too, if he gets the chance.”

Belle dips her toes into the cool water. Marco’s words echo in her mind as she feels a clawed hand latch onto her ankle. Her scream bounces off the cave walls. Rumple’s head breaches the water’s surface again, eyes glinting with wicked glee.

“…for…for god’s sake, Rumple,” she gasps, pressing her hand over her chest, trying to work her heart out of her throat.

He laughs, baring two rows of razor-sharp teeth. She’s reminded of what a terror he must be to unsuspecting fishermen.

His grin wanes when it comes time to surrender his treasure. Rumple reluctantly hands over the tackle box, looking so forlorn that she almost regrets taking it from him. She knows how enamored he is with the little lures and bobbers.

He plants both hands on the rock and, lean muscles straining, heaves himself up onto the rim beside her. His tail hits the stone with a wet slap.

No artist has ever truly rendered the ethereal beauty of a Fin. They refuse to be pinned to a canvas and captured in a frame. There is no shade of paint that can reproduce the exact green-gold color of their tails, nor their iridescent quality in the sunlight. Belle’s eyes follow the scales up his body to where they become a smattering over his belly, just about where most human men have a trail of fine hair.

Aware of where her eyes are fixed, Rumple reaches for the basket with both hands like an impatient child. Her reflexes are a tad quicker and she slides it out of reach.

“No. Don’t grab. It’s not polite.”

He gives her a rude gesture – something else he undoubtedly picked up from the sailors. The effect is somewhat less potent with his webbed fingers.

After the thermos of hot chocolate had gone down so well last week, Belle suspects his serrated teeth might be quite sweet. She produces a small bundle from the basket, unwrapping the gingham handkerchief to reveal a crumbly stack of homemade shortbread. Rumple peers at it, captivated as the scent of honey and coriander hits his nose.

“Dry your hands first or it’ll go all mushy.”

Rumple does dry his hands; not on the handkerchief, but on her jumper, his talons snagging the woolen yellow fibers on her sleeve. He swipes a wedge before she can delay him any longer.

He takes a small, suspicious bite. She can tell the exact moment that the butter-rich biscuit dissolves on his tongue. His eyes go wide and he looks to her with such childlike delight, it makes her heart beat wildly against her rib cage.

“There are otters up the coastline. They have pups,” he says suddenly, as though trying to bolster his half of the trade. “I’ll take you to see them.”

“I’m not dressed for swimming.”

He rolls his eyes. That isn’t something he learned from the sailors. That is something he adopted from her.

“You can’t get these clothes wet, but you can put on different clothes speci-fic-ally to get wet?”

He wrinkles his nose indignantly. His derisive ‘urgh, humans’ is unspoken, but is heard all the same.

“I’ll wear something suitable tomorrow. You can bring me then.”

Tomorrow. He loves that word more than anything.

His sullen expression melts away. He leans in expectantly. Now, this is special. This is something he taught her. Belle meets him halfway, resting her forehead against his. His crooked nose presses into her cheek, their faces slotting together like two puzzle pieces. They stare at one another for a long, quiet moment. His lips twist into a lopsided smile and he pulls back.

That means, ‘I’m happy’. It means, ‘thank you’.

It means, ‘love you’.

Rumple’s tail thumps the rock again, splashing water over her legs, the droplets clinging to her calves like a sheen of cold sweat. She watches him examine a second piece of shortbread like it’s made of solid gold.

‘Yes, tomorrow’, Belle thinks, smiling down at where his fin grazes her ankles.

‘Perhaps he’ll steal me tomorrow.’

-

[percervall]

👉🏼👈🏼 currently having so many professor-kink thoughts at the moment… so I immediately ran here to ask if you would please make a list of men who trigger your professor kink? 💕

I spent my entire Saturday coming up with this list. There's no rhyme or reason, no thoughts just vibes

a read more because this will contain pictures

Mats Hummels, but specifically him in turtlenecks

I can just imagine him speaking so passionately about the impact of [insert German author of the 19th/20th century] on the way we view [insert topic here]

(throwing in a bonus one because it fucked me up in the best way)

Antoine Griezmann, that one photoshoot ruined me

but also this Anto

He'd teach French poetry and you'd know absolutely nothing except for how blue those eyes are and a handful of fantasies involving his finger tattoos

Thiago Alcantara, I am sorry but have you seen this man??? They literally call him the professor like what did you expect to happen??

he'd for sure teach Spanish history with a focus on the influence of colonisation on Spanish architecture

Jordan Henderson. I will not be taking questions at this moment.

Definitely something sport medicine related

Xabi Alonso kinda fits this bill?

he'd teach about Basque poets and you'd hang on his every word

Marco Rose definitely fits this bill

what is it about men in turtlenecks??? For sure a philosophy or Greek classics professor

I can’t believe I’m exposing myself like this but Jamie Carragher. Again, I will not be taking questions at this moment.

(it's the cardigan under the blazer) he'd teach marketing strategies or something along those lines

Moving on to f1

Carlos Sainz jr, that photo of him looking so focused at whatever he’s doing to his car has me thinking thoughts™️

He'd be into the Renaissance literary movement and take the whole class on excursions and wane on poetically about those marble sculptures that look so lifelike

Toto Wolff, like in all honesty I could listen to that man talk all day. It’s so effortless?? And he is so smart?? But doesn’t come across as arrogant while he knows he’s one of the smartest men in the room??

I can imagine him teaching like idk economics or something, for sure business orientated. But I can also see him teaching a Literature class of some sorts

Sebastian Vettel, although this is purely as an admiration for his knowledge. He does nothing for me sexually

he would 100% teach environmental studies and show you his bees

[mislamicpearl]

Amphibia vs. Star vs the Forces of Evil

People like to give Star vs. The Forces of Evil flak for having a bad ending, but I feel like everyone forgets that aside from that, the show was really good! It had a rocky start but it got better as it went on, with fun characters, both heroes and villains alike, that grew and changed. Also, more importantly I think, it was different. It had a vibe and sense of humor that was totally its own; you couldn't say the dialogue in that show could've come from Gravity Falls or Amphibia.

Speaking of Amphibia, that's kind of the reason why I started reflecting about Star. My sister and I love Amphibia, but we were both in agreement that it's not great; we enjoy watching new episodes as they come out, but we wouldn't go back and re-watch those episodes, or even be able to name too many episodes we remember watching aside from the plot-heavy ones. Amphibia has nice characters, but its episode structures are so... standard. It's a cartoon that feels like a cartoon made for kids, with morals that you can see coming from the beginning of an episode and very safe and done-to-death plot lines. It's like the show only slightly rose in quality since it started and then stayed on a plateau, never really peaking.

Star just let its characters and weird concepts carry it through - I couldn't tell you what the moral or lesson was in most episodes, because that was never the point (and even the ones that do have lessons were a lot more subtle about it than Amphibia). I could talk about awkward conversations, surreal situations, and hilarious interactions that we see between the characters. I could talk about the different dimensions and places Star and her friends visited. If you asked me to name random episodes, off the top of my head I could list the one where Star was caught in a time loop where she had to solve a math problem, the one where Marco and Tom bonded through a game of ping pong, the one where Star, Marco and Janna went to that weird supermarket to buy Marco a new wallet, the one where Star and her friends celebrated that Christmasy holiday about a stump, the Blood Moon Ball episode, the Mewberty episode, the one where Marco chased Heckapoo through different dimensions for 20 years, the one where we see what happened to Ludo after the season 1 finale, the Spider with a Top Hat episode, and literally every episode with Toffee because he was such a cool villain. And I could go on! The show had so much imagination and so many iconic episodes.

But if you asked me to name you some episodes of Amphibia? I honestly struggle with that. The season 2 finale of course. The one where Anne, Marcy, and Sasha play in a band together... The one where Sprig gets jealous of Marcy? The one where Anne and Poppop don't see eye-to-eye about some tradition or other? (That probably describes several episodes from the first season). The Gravity Falls crossover one? The one where Anne wants to feel useful to the Plantars? The one where Polly wants to prove she can take care of herself instead of being babied? You see what I'm getting at here? Aside from a few exceptions, I can only remember the episodes in relation to whatever lesson each character had to learn that day, not specifically because of what actually happened in the episode. Of course, that could just be me and maybe someone else can actually name a lot of their favorite episodes knowing exactly what happened in each. Different strokes and all.

But my point is, Star was a lot better than people give it credit for, even if not EVERY episode was good. But I would rather a show had really great episodes and arcs even if it had a smattering of bad ones in between, than a show where pretty much every episode is of the same middle-tier quality without really striving to do better. Now I haven't finished the third season of Amphibia yet, so maybe I'm judging too hard; I do like the show, I just got to thinking about it in comparison to other Disney cartoons (I haven't watched The Owl House, but even though it gives me similar vibes to Amphibia my sister tells me it's also a show where she really enjoys re-watching episodes). And my second point here I guess is, an ending does not a story make. Star is not suddenly a bad show because of a bad ending or even a bad season, so I hope people don't turn around on Amphibia either and call it a bad show if it doesn't get the ending they want (or on the opposite end, call it a masterpiece if it pulls off a perfect ending).