#because I stare at my own reflection too and I know right now I’d be too emotionally distant

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Oho boy she has a son?!

[olivepicks]

Hey baby, can you do Dally x fem!reader who’s insecure about her weight? Only if you want too ofc sweetheart!

It would comfort me and is exactly what I’m think of rn!

Have an amazing day baby!

DALLAS WINSTON W/ INSECURE! FEM READER

note. thanks so much for this request! i decided for a first post, i’d just write a lil somethin’! just to try and figure my style with writing him! i hope the movie version of dallas winston is okay - i reread the book yesterday, but the movie appearance of dally lives in my heart! kind of an open ending too, i hope it’s okay! i didn’t know how to end it. <3

warnings. established relationship, body insecurity, movie! dallas winston, use of doll and dollface, use of broad, mention of thick thighs, mobile formatting

“ the hell are you doin’? ”

Dallas straddled the frame of your bedroom window, clearly not at all bothered by the look of shock that crossed your face - a look that was quickly followed by annoyance.

“yeah, yeah, don’t go all nuts on me, i know.” he added on, a clear roll to his eyes as he pulled himself the rest of the way through the window, careful not to hit his head on anything. he knew you hated whenever he snuck up on you through the window, but it’s not like he would ever use the front door. too much of a hassle, what with your parents and all.

“now what the hell were you doin’? i mean, y’know,” Dallas gestured vaguely to where you stood in front of your floor-length mirror, before making himself right at home. he flopped onto your bed, old dirty boots and all.

you stood there for a second or two, perhaps even longer, your eyes darting between your reflection and the shifty-eyed greaser that lounged carelessly on your neatly made bed. and it was your reflection that won.

big — it was the only word you could think of. too big, it seemed. your hips were too wide, and your stomach poked out too forward, and your shoulders were like one of them linebackers, and-

“doll?” Dallas tried for a moment, knowing how it bothered you, but now he was trying for some sort of reaction. his thick eyebrows furrowed, confused. and he didn’t particularly like the look you were givin’ your reflection, as if it had walked right out of that mirror and stepped on your foot.

“hey,” and he pushed himself up, now sitting on the edge of your bed rather than sprawled all over the nice clean sheets and duvet. “dollface, c’mere.” Dallas motioned, and the set of his jaw and the look in his eyes wasn’t a tender beg of sweetness - it was a command. because dally always got what he wanted, and what he wanted right now, was for you to walk your pretty lil’ face on over.

almost reluctantly, you did as he asked - i mean, who could deny Dally? - and you stepped over, finally turning your back to the mirror that you had spent the last half hour gazing into. Dallas stared up at you for a moment, and it was hard not to notice the shift of his eyes, the burning pits of dark blue following every turn and curve of your body.

“Dallas!” you yelped, surprised as he suddenly reached out for you. slim fingers dug into your side, almost like claws without the use of nails, but an equally as firm hold. he could never be super gentle, after all. he pulled you down before you could even begin to protest, right down into his lap, forcing you to straddle him against your own bed - his hands hungrily kneading at the thick, plumpness of your thighs.

“oh shut up, you know you’re the broad of all broads, so don’t you go forgettin’ it - ‘cause i don’t have any nice way of showin’ it.” Dallas cut you off, eager to get in his own two cents if he could. he had no problem of showing you that you were the most perfect gal a guy like him could ask for - it was just the talkin’ part that got him, at least, talkin’ without causing a few flushed faces and slaps to the back of the head.

but then again, Dallas would only ever let you slap him over the head and get away with it.

his fingers firmly prodded at your legs, looking up at you with equally as fiery eyes - a look that dared you to defy him. Dallas was not an emotional guy, not if he could help it. he was no perfect match, and often times he came across as horrifically selfish and arrogant. it came with the territory. but there was a certain difference in his expression, you weren’t quite sure what it was.

but you knew he loved you, even if Dallas Winston would never admit it. he just wasn’t the kind of guy who found it easy to tell you how pretty he thought you were, or how often he found himself staring at you (even if it was when your back was turned). you knew he loved you, and knew that he liked you just the way you were. you weren’t too big, or too wide, and you didn’t take up too much space - you were you, and that was more than enough for ol’ Dal.

you were his broad after all.

written by olivepicks.

[gaysindistress]

Limits of a Fae Heart - two

Pairings: Azriel x reader

Summary: part two for this.

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: mentions of past abuse but no detailed descriptions gaysindistress masterlist one | three | four | five | six

“Impossible?” I hiss at the High Lord of the Night Court. “Tell me how this seems impossible when your own mate was Made as well as her sisters. Tell me how it’s inconceivable when I was stuck forever living and dying.”

He says nothing, only staring down at me with those violet eyes. I sarcastically chuckle.

“Since you drug me here and will be forcing me to stay as it seems, I would like to retire to a room now,” I snap at Rhys and he nods. He goes to place a hand on my upper back and the shadows are quick to rip it away. Rhys sighs but keeps his hand at his side and settles for just pointing to the hallway for me to follow.

He wordlessly leads me up the stairs and down a dark hallway. All the while I feel the blazing stare of the Shadowsinger on my back.

Rhys stops a door at the every end of the hall and gives it a light shove to reveal a bedroom that is cozier than I expected. Dark wood planks cover the expanse of the floor and an equally dark green shade covers the walls. Upon closer inspection, I see that there are trees of varying greens painted all around the room. Surrounded by a forest that feels like home but so foreign, my soul yearns for something I can’t give it.

“This will be your room,” Rhys explains as he walks further in and candles ignite as he passes by them, bringing with them light. “There is a bathing room here,” he explains while pointing a doorway off to his left and then points one to his right, “and there is a wardrobe. If you need anything, my wife’s and my room is to the left of the stairs, Cassian and his mate are on the right, and Mor’s are next door. Kitchen is downstairs and past the living room. I’m sure Mor will come bother you at some point but I’ll try to keep her away as best as I can. Is there anything I can get for you before I leave you for the night?”

It’s not lost on me that he didn’t mention where Azriel’s room is and he knows it too. He shifts his weight ever so slightly under my unwavering stare.

The words spill out of his perfect lips much to his surprise, “He’s across the hall but I can have him stay somewhere else for the night.”

Happy with his confession, I turn away to take in the rest of the room. “No, this is his home after all. Warn him that I will not hesitate if he comes near me.”

I don’t have to elaborate, Rhys understands my meaning. I can feel him grappling with why he told me that so I answer for him so he’ll leave.

“I take it you didn’t think my famed ‘sociability’ was more than a good personality?”

“I’d heard rumors of people telling you their darkest secrets without prompting but I figured it was because of who your mate was.”

I stopped trailing my hand over the cream knitted blanket on the simple wooden framed bed.

“And who was he? What name do they give him now?”

“He’s the King of Hybern now.”

“Of course he is,” I snort and continue my inspection of the blanket. “You may leave now.”

He’s gone in an instant and silence surrounds me. Glancing over my shoulder, I see the bathroom and debate whether or not I want to truly see my current state. I’m sure I look like a complete disaster but I’m not sure Im ready to face my reflection.

A sharp pain hurts through my back and the heat of my body disappears as fear takes over me. I can hear my heartbeat pound in my ears as my breathing starts to become labored. Already weak from death, my knees buckle and I stumble forward, desperately searching for something to grip onto. I find nothing as the pain in my back becomes a searing sensation that is only amplified as my knees and hands catch on the floor. They tear into the soft skin and cause blood to leak from the cuts. The candles are blurred around me, and the silence surrounding me becomes suffocating. Water starts to envelop me from within as my breathing picks up pace even more, making it harder to swim to the surface of my emotions. Pain continues to spread from the torn skin and my back when I hear an awful tearing noise. I let out a sob as I feel the skin of my back break open and something tears itself free.

Blood drips onto the pristine wooden floors around me and there is a heavy weight at my back now but I can’t move. I don’t dare to move. I stay with my hands and knees firmly planted on the floor as sobs rack over my body.

I don’t know how long I stay on the floor but no one comes no matter how loud I scream at the agony in my back. Shadows, the persistent bastards, flood underneath the door and rush to me. I bat them away, unwilling to accept their help. They refuse to listen to me and hover with nervous energy as I crawl to the bathroom. I wince and bite back more sobs as the things that tore themselves free drag on the floor. They catch and hit furniture, ripping at them as I slowly make my way to the massive sunken bathtub. I don’t bother to pull off my clothes and instead just allow myself to fall right into the warm waters that are already waiting for me. I hiss at the feeling of warm water on my skin but it eases the ache in my body enough that I don’t wish for death.

Floating in the water beside me are membranous wings.

Ones similar to those of Cassian and Azriel. I snap my eyes shut and push myself further under the water. A deep dread sets in as I start to accept that this isn’t another nightmare created by my shattered mind.

I’ve been resurrected.

My former mate is now a king while the one I seemingly gained is a Shadowsinger and his pets are frantically tending to me.

What a shit show my life has become.

Waves of cedar, freezing mist, and olive filter through the room as my eyes flutter open. Sweat pools at the hollow of my throat and causes my skin to stick to the sheets beneath me. I brush back strands of hair that are plastered to my feverish forehead as I stare up at the ceiling above.

Shadows hover all around the room and I can only assume they’re standing guard outside of my door.

A shine from beside me catches my eye and I turn to see a blur of those creatures next to my hip. Cautiously, I shift and they awake at my movement to reveal a mess shiny black hair laying on top of muscular golden arms next to my hip. Unwanted comfort washes over me and my chest aches to be so close yet so far away from him.

He stirs for a moment and moves his head so he’s facing me. With his eyes still closed, I get a good at the face I already know by heart. The brave candle light that breaks through the shadows dances across the elegant planes of his face. Faint pale scars litter his skin and my fingers itch to trace them until my touch heals them. Scars cover the skin on his hands too but they are harsher, more jagged and deep than the others. Their angry deep brown color tells me that they’ve been inflicted many years ago and never healed properly. With how deep they go, I can practically feel the pain and damage they must have caused him. Something breaks inside of me to see that he’s been through so much but knowing that it’s similar to my own trauma is too much. I can’t fathom another ever coming close to going through what I did and I have to tear my eyes away from him.

Fate has been cruel to me and I suspect she will forever but this? Giving me a second mate and one who no doubt has the same nightmares that I do? That is a string even she wouldn’t think to weave herself. A part of me wonders if my first mate had anything to do with this. If he’s been able to take the crown, could he have been able to force the hand of Fate in his favor?

I scoff at the idea. That would be giving him too much credit to assume that he could do that or even would. He’d used me until I had nothing left to give and nourished me back to health only to restart the cycle. He’d whispered the most foul words a mate could hear as he bound my wings to my body after he found me. He’d forced me to be his own spy master and extract any and all information from his targets. It didn’t matter if it was important to his mission, he needed everything. When I proved to be too broken and weak to be of use to him, he’d left me for dead. He’d allowed his men to chase after me like hounds chasing a fox. He even demanded that they keep me alive so he could be the one to finish me off. It had my mate, the man the Cauldron said I was fated for, that put me on that island where I laid half alive, half dead for years. I don’t even know how long I’d been there but it doesn’t matter anyway.

Regardless of who Azriel is, I don’t want him. I can’t want him.

I can’t need him the way I thought needed the King of Hybern. I can’t allow myself to be in such a vulnerable position again even if I know Azriel would never do that same.

The two men have to be the same in my mind if I’m going to survive.

And I’ll do what I should have the first time; reject the bond and save myself.

It’s Feyre who does knocks at my door first. A woman who looks like a sharper and more intense version of her stands behind her. I quickly learn that her name is Nesta and she’s mated to the man child Cassian. She laughs and makes a side comment about how we’re going to get along when I tell her that. Feyre laughs as well but she stays quiet, probably in fear that I’ll say something less kind about her mate.

”We thought you might like company,” her gentle voice answers my unspoken question. She sits in the chair I assume Azriel was sleeping in earlier while Nesta makes herself comfortable on the bed next to me.

I go to push myself up but am stopped by the heavy weight at my back. My wings, I realize, as I push myself onto my forearms and watch as they emerge from under my hair. Feyre gasps and I quickly glance over to her to see that she’s also looking at them. She looks at me in wonderment. Nesta shares a similar look but keeps it isolated to her eyes and her face remains a facade of collected beauty.

“He…Rhys didn’t tell me you were Illyrian,” she mutters more to herself.

“Bold of you to assume that I am,” I say with a hint more edge than I intended. Her gaze flickers for a moment and Nesta chuckles under her breath.

Feyre goes to apologize but I stop her, “I was teasing. My father was Illyrian.

“And your mother?” Nesta asks and earns a stern look from her sister.

“Hybern.”

“Oh what a disgusting revelation.”

Once again Feyre tries to reign her back in while I feed into it.

“Yes it is quite unfortunate; however I don’t imagine the King would’ve taken me if I wasn’t from his land at all.”

Nesta shrugs her shoulders, “he’s a disgusted man. He probably still would have just for the fun of it.”

“Nesta!” Feyre gasps and looks to me with apologetic eyes, “I’m so sorry. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to bring her.”

“Do I look offended?” Both women look at me and scrutinize every inch of my face. “No, she’s fine and it’s…refreshing to be around someone with a sense of humor.”

I try to move again and my wings quack against my back from the pain.

“You’ll get used to them with time and practice,” Feyre tells me. There’s an underlying order in her words; don’t push yourself.

“I know you’ve only been here for a day but how is everything?”

I arch a brow at her, “define everything.”

Nesta snickers.

Cutting her off before she melts into her chair, I say, “everything is fine. Thank you for all of it.”

A gentle chill overcomes the room. One of those pesky shadows creeps in and slides over the back of Feyre’s chair. It plays with the ends of her hair before making its way to Nesta and halting by my foot. Nesta shivers and looks like she wants to bat at the shadow.

I clench my jaw and finally push myself further up so Im sitting against the wall. It’s painful and almost leaves me in a tears but I do it anyways. The shadow darts up to me but waits for me to invite it closer. The sisters are watching my every move as I reach my hand out with my palm up. It hesitates for a moment and then circles around my fingers. The shadow is cold but it’s not unpleasant. It crawls further up my wrist and to my arm. The ache in my chest feels content as this shadow traces my arm.

I let out a sigh. Warmth fills me and there is something akin to hope in the waves of comfort but it’s foolish. Hope cannot exist when the king still has his cold hand wrapped around my throat.

I swallow thickly despite the cold pressure on my neck and look to Feyre. “Why am I here?”

Nesta shoots her an uncharacteristically nervous look. Feyre sits straight up and clears her throat. “We need your help.”

“With?”

“The King. He’s planning a war and…”

I interrupt her, “let me guess; you’re running out of options and Rhys thinks that I’ll have some insight you haven’t found anywhere else.”

“And she’s smart,” Nesta pipes up and the shadows agree with her. They’ve made themselves comfortable on my shoulder and nestle against my neck.

“Well I can’t tell you anything you don’t know already. He isn’t the type to sip tea by a fire and spill his darkest secrets. That and I’ve been dead far longer than even your High Lord has been alive. Tell me, Feyre, how did he know about me.”

I want to feel bad about using my powers on her but I don’t think she would tell me without it.

“Az was the one who told him. I…I don’t know how he knew.”

The shadows shutter at the mention of their master and sink onto me even more. Feyre blinks in shock.

“It seems like I need to pay him a visit next.”

With that, the sisters leave. Now it’s just me with the shadows of a man who knows more about me than I would like.

[weneverfreeze]

every battle-earned bruise

Elbows deep in sudsy water, scrubbing plates with his eyes kept safe on the sponge in his hand, Bucky too close to his shoulder and all the farther for it. Steve hands him a plate. Their fingers don’t touch. 

There’s a dance to this. Something careful, measured; he feels Bucky’s eyes resting directly on the corner of his jaw, then slip to his neck, then drop down his forearms. If Steve looked back he’d probably see Bucky staring at the corner like he hadn’t been watching. 

His gaze flits around the room quick as anything these days. There was a time when he’d spend hours looking at the clouds from the fire escape. Now he’s looking, always looking, always assessing threats and risks and exit plans. Steve still isn’t sure which category these particular examinations fall under. 

In the space between them, Steve asks, “You remember that time in the alley, after Peterson punched my lights out?” His voice is quiet, quiet. There is a fragility to this rhythm that could break as easily as a dropped plate. 

Bucky shifts his weight. “I remember.”

A shouting match, a sharp, radiating pain that just wouldn’t quit, not for days and days after. Bucky’s soft swear and flitting hands. Steve hands him a glass and asks, “How much of that do you remember?”

Steve risks a glance up and in their reflection in the window, Bucky meets his eyes. And back then Bucky had cursed him up and down with a damn you, damn you, why do you do this and his fingers on Steve’s jaw and Steve had spat blood out of his mouth and said, far more pathetic than he’d wanted, Steve had wiped his chin and said, I like your hands on me like that. 

They hadn’t talked about it afterwards. The draft and the war and the Howlies, the serums in both of their veins running counter to one another back then and even still now, history weighing so heavy on both their shoulders, eyes that once focused on clouds trained to focus through sniper scopes. Memory is a fraught thing. They haven’t yet cleared all the landmines stretching between them. 

Bucky sets the glass down. Steve holds his breath, stays still as Bucky’s fingertip outlines the memory of a scar on his jaw. Then Bucky’s thumb dips, resting on Steve’s bottom lip as he frowns in concentration. His memory face, Sam calls it. He slightly tilts Steve’s face from left to right and back again like he’s remembering the blood and the bruises before leaning in and kissing him. 

Oh. It’s a breath of a kiss more than anything and he wasn’t — he’s too slow, he wasn’t expecting it; Steve kisses him back a second after Bucky pulls away, still studying him with that searching expression on his face. He catches a glimpse of his own wide eyes in the window and oh, he wasn’t expecting that. Oh, oh. 

“Is that right?” Bucky asks, thumb still on Steve’s lip. “Did I do that then? In the alley?”

Steve shakes his head. “No,” he says, and Bucky’s hand falls away. He clears his throat. “No, you never — never did that.”

Bucky shrugs. Picks up the dish towel. “Must’ve just wanted to then. It’s hard spotting the difference between memories and wishes.”

He’s far away again. Farther, because he was so close just a second ago. It’s like lowering your mouth to a mirror and breathing on it to see the condensation, that’s what that kiss was. Bucky was testing him out to see what’s left between before it faded. Wasn’t he?

“Bucky,” Steve says. 

And — Bucky catches his eyes in the window, looks away, turns and leans so he’s facing him. “We really never did that before?”

“I didn’t know you wanted to.”

“But you wanted to?” he asks. 

And Steve says, “Yes.” And he says, “I would’ve kissed you back then, if you’d kissed me first.”

Bucky’s gaze dips, finds the door, the empty space at Steve’s hip where he usually wears a gun, skim past his thigh before flicking back to Steve’s. Threats, risks, exit plans. “And now?”

“Now—” Steve’s breath catches. He dries his hands on the towel Bucky’s holding and says, “Yeah, Buck. I’d kiss you now.”

He leans in this time. This time, he brushes Bucky’s hair behind his ear, threads his fingers through to cradle the nape of his neck, leaves some space between their bodies in case Bucky wants it there. Slow movements. Steve isn’t sure which one of them he’s afraid of spooking off. He exhales as Bucky eases him closer by his belt loops and when they kiss, it’s gentle. It’s a dance he half-remembers the steps to, a routine learned in dreams in a Brooklyn apartment years ago. 

Bucky’s lips are soft. He wasn’t expecting that. He thinks a lot of things would’ve been different if he’d known this back then. 

Bucky moves away first. Steve is struck again by the normalcy of him here in his kitchen, standing next to counters Steve installed and drying dishes Steve picked out at random. He doesn’t look out of place anymore. He looks — pleased. Like he got away with something he thought he’d get nailed on for sure. And Steve knows. 

“You remembered, didn’t you?” he asks. He laughs a little; Bucky smiles a little. “You knew we hadn’t—”

“I’ve been wanting to,” Bucky says. “I know you’ve noticed me looking at you. Seemed like you’ve been wanting to, too. Do you still like it when I touch you like that?”

He thumbs Steve’s bottom lip as he asks it and Steve — well. Steve’s pinned by his touch. Something like anticipation whispers its way up his spine. 

“Yes,” he says. Bucky doesn’t move his hand; Steve says, “If we finish the dishes first, will you kiss me again?”

And oh, there — that ghost of a laugh. Those eyebrows pulled in for a challenge and those eyes bright with amusement, teasing the way they used to decades ago. Shoulders broader and his smile heavier too. Bucky Barnes in his kitchen. He’d do it all over again if this is where they ended up. Every battle-earned bruise brought him back to Bucky Barnes in his kitchen with a dish towel over his shoulder, waiting to finish the dishes so they can kiss again, closing the loop on a circle a hundred years in the making. Steve’s so in love he almost can’t bear it.

“Okay,” Bucky says simply, eyes alight, and their fingers brush as Steve hands him a plate. 

[holylulusworld]

Designed by pain (14)

Summary: Broken hearts are hard to put back together. 8 years ago, Dean lost something he didn’t even know he had in the first place. Will he get a second chance?

Pairing: former AU!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, post break-up, daddy Dean

A/N: This was an alternative idea for the first chapter of my Bucky story: Monster-in-law masterlist. I decided to use it for a story with Dean.

Designed by pain masterlist

Designed by pain (13)

“Fuck, get off,” you curse under your breath. Hours after you leave Mary’s house you try to get the engagement ring off your finger. It doesn’t move. Almost as if the golden band wants to mock you or force you to keep it on. “Get off!!”

“Y/N, is everything alright?” Dean calls from outside the bathroom at his place. He offered you his guestroom for the night. You were too tired and emotionally drained to find a hotel room. “Do you need anything? I can go and buy whatever you forgot.”

“It won’t get off!” You huff and slam your hands onto the sink. “It’s stuck. I can’t get it off.” Choking out a sob you stare at your reflection in the mirror. So many years of independence and peace down the drain because the cocky asshole outside the bathroom couldn’t stay away from you.

“What? Wait! I’m coming!” Dean exclaims before opening the door. He covers his eyes and stumbles inside the room. “What did you say? Do you need help? Is your toe stuck in the faucet?”

You half laugh, half snort. “What? Why do you think my toe got stuck in the faucet? I didn’t take a bath, and would never stick my toe inside the faucet.”

Dean nervously chuckles. He rubs the back of his neck as he finally looks at you. “Well, accidents happen, sweetheart. A faucet can be damn dangerous.”

You snicker. “Your toe got stuck in the faucet, right? How did you do it, Dean?” He pouts and crosses his arms over his chest.

“I’m not telling you.”

“Well, at least your dick didn’t get stuck inside the faucet.” You grin from ear to ear. Teasing Dean is fun.

“Y/N!” He gapes at you. “I’m not some pervert putting his dick into the faucet!” Dean narrows his eyes to give you the stinky eye. “You know that my dick would never fit into a faucet.”

“You only didn’t put it inside because it would not fit,” you accuse, earning a huff. “I wasn’t talking about my toe, Dean.” You finally lift your hand to show him the ring. “It won’t get off.”

Dean hums. He steps closer to grab your hand to look at the ring. “Then, don’t take it off. It’s right where it belongs.”

You breathe his name and shake your head. “You know I can’t keep it. The ring never belonged to me, Dean. Whatever we had back then is long gone. We can’t just go back in time and make things right. I raised our son on my own and started a new life without you.”

Dean drops his gaze. He nods because there is no denying that he fucked things up. Even though Mary played a huge part in your breakup, it was his fault that he didn’t stay with you that day. Dean knows there is nothing he can do to make things up to you.

“Stay—” He murmurs, eyes searching yours. “Back then, I was a fool. I was selfish and scared of commitment. But I know now how it feels to live without you, and I’d rather have you and Michael in my life.” Dean raises his hand to stop you from replying. “Don’t answer right now. I know I have no right to beg you to stay, but I do.”

“Dean, I—” Your voice cracks. Right now, you’re not able to respond or even think straight. The past came crashing back into your life, and you cannot handle anything but focus on getting that damn ring off your finger.

He turns to leave the room but glances over his shoulder. “I’ll get some olive oil,” Dean says and points at your hand. “For the ring.”

You watch him leave, feeling bad for him. Dean broke your heart, but you know now, that it wasn’t all his fault. Maybe you should’ve stayed that night. If you hadn’t run away like an angry child, you could’ve talked things out and ruined Mary’s plans.

Dean darts his tongue out, focused on rubbing more olive oil into your skin. He gently massages your finger and tries to move the ring. “Almost there, sweetheart.”

You nod and watch him slowly slide the ring off your finger. It feels good that it’s gone, but at the same time, you feel a sadness you haven’t experienced in years. “Thank you.”

“I’ll put it away,” he says, sounding as sad as you feel. “In case you ever want it back.” Dean gives you a sad smile before walking out of the room. You sigh and grab one of the paper towels to clean your hand.

“Do you want to order takeout?” Dean calls from outside the room. “Michael is still at Sammy’s place, but we could eat together.”

“Sounds good,” you answer. “You can choose. You need to eat something after you refused to eat more of my mince pie.”

“That was not nice of you, Y/N. You know about my weakness for pie and ordered this monstrosity,” Dean huffs as he enters the living room. “A low blow.”

“It was payback for all the times I had to eat fatty burgers or pizza,” you shoot back. “You never invited me to a nice restaurant, Winchester.”

“Sweetheart, that’s a lie! What about the little Italian restaurant,” he bites back. “You almost inhaled their food.”

You purse your lips. Dean is not wrong. Their food was delicious. “I don’t know what you are talking about, Dean.”

He smirks. “How about I order takeout from them, and you can tell me again that I never invited you for dinner to a nice restaurant.”

“Your house is not a restaurant, Winchester,” you argue. “Do not cheat! Ordering takeout is not taking me out on a date.”

“Okay. Let’s go on a date right now,” he hastily says, smirking as you look at him with wide eyes.

“What? That’s not what I meant…I mean…” Stammering you look at Dean, unable to come up with an excuse. You said what you said and now it’s too late.

Part 15

Tags in reblog.

[judesmoonbeauty]

Black Wedding: The True Vow For A Jet-Black Bride - William Rex

Fan translation only. Not 100% accurate. Please expect grammatical errors. Cybird owns everything. Feel free to re-blog, but please do not post my translations elsewhere. What I obtain is what will be translated. If other blogs have translated the stories before I do, I will notate their blogs. Thank you, for you support! ☾.

After the wedding ceremony, we were waiting to leave the venue…..

Kate: I never thought I’d be the one to receive a flower shower.

William: I remember you looking enviously at a wedding we happened to see in town the other day.

I remember the men and women smiling happily in streets, showered in colorful petals.

At the time, I just thought it was beautiful and stared at it -

Kate: Did I say that out loud?

William: No? But your eyes spoke volumes.

The hand that stroked my cheek touched the vow that was on my left ring finger.

(I knew Will could see everything…..)

He easily discovers desires that I am unaware of.

When it came to the wedding, the first thing he suggested was the flower shower.

(I am so happy that you suggested this for me.)

I gently grabbed the finger stroking the ring, and intertwined them without any gaps.

Kate: When I saw the flower shower, I thought that it looked like you, Will.

William: Like me?

Kate: As a freedom-lover, you shower mercy on everyone, right?

Kate: But the rain you send down is beautiful and warm like flower petals, and I think of it as a blessing.

I fell in love with him because he loves freedom, and showers mercy on everyone, but

(Surely, he won’t be mine alone down the road.)

(Marriage will not change that.)

(I want you to be mine just for today……I’m being greedy.)

The thing that has changed me is that I now have an endless desire for love.

Venue Guide: Ready when you are.

The guide’s words brought me back to reality and I straightened my back.

William: Come on, let’s go.

Then I took his hand and walked towards the door.

A shower of petals falls upon us - in the sunshine.

Kate: Whoa!

I was so surprised that I lost my balance, and Will supported me.

William: Do you like it?

Kate: Yes…..it’s very beautiful.

The petals falling from the blue sky looked like colored rain,

(I’m so lucky to be able to see such a beautiful view with Will.)

Though I was squinting my eyes at the happy moment -

Kate: Ah……

A drop of water falls on my cheek.

Kate: Rain shower…..

The attendees frantically ran under the roof, but we were unable to move from where we were.

William: Phew…..ah-ha!

Suddenly he started laughing, petals sticking to his head,

Kate: Will?

William: Don’t you think it’s fitting for this day, Kate.

The hand that reaches out to remove a petal gets caught.

William: You and I are both covered in petals from the rain.

Before I knew it, I had many petals stuck to my body.

The petals stuck to the dress looked so natural that it was almost as if they had been there from the beginning,

The beautiful colors made me feel good, and I laughed along with him, in his good mood.

William: It’s like this rain is falling for us. It’s like a blessing.

Kate: It’s like the rain you send down, Will.

As I squint at the warm rain, he wraps his arms around me.

In his eyes, I was the only one reflected in the world shining with rain.

William: I hope that a merciful rain will fall upon all those who seek freedom.

William: More than anyone else in the world, I want rain to fall on you.

William: No matter what happens next, my number one is you, Kate.

Kate: Ah……

He always knows what I’m thinking, and just one of his words can easily satisfy my desires.

(I’m so happy…..I can’t even put it into words.)

Kate: You are the only one I care about, too. Besides, it is my duty to die protecting you, Will.

William: It seems that my knight has become a dependable bride.

They put their foreheads together and laugh.

He accepted the lips that fell with the rain, and a joyful expression appeared on his face.

William: Now, I thought I’d run to the carriage and head for the honeymoon, but

William: What do you want to do my lovely bride?

I gave him a kiss in return to his words.

Kate: With you I’ll run anywhere.

At that moment, his arm pulled me and he starts running, covered in petals.

William: I love you, Kate.

Kate: I love you too, Will.

His words will continue to be a merciful rain of love that falls only on me.

[Black Wedding Master List] Tag list: @theimaginativelyreticent

[jungkookslipring]

I Will Never Make You Lonely: CH 1

Summary: When your life is falling apart, your 8 best friends are there to lift you up

TW: mentions of de&th, su!c!de, su!c!de tendencies, su!c!dal ideologies, depress!on, anxiety, anxiety attacks, panic attacks, crying. If this is in any way triggering I’d steer towards more of my happier works. 

If you or someone you love has thought of or acted on suicide, there is help and there is hope 

Call or text 988

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort, non idol AU

PSA: this is no way represents the artists. While their birth names are used in this story, this is in no way a reflection of the artist or artists in real life.

Ch 1

The next day, Saturday, you were in your bedroom getting ready to paint your nails while the other guys were either out and about or in the apartments just doing their own thing. 

“Y/n?! Can I borrow some of your coffee grounds?” Shouted Seungmin from the other side of the apartment. You laughed before you shouted back.

“Check the bag behind mine!” There was silence and shuffling until you heard  “YOU’RE THE BEST!” You giggled to yourself. You got the younger one his own bag of ground coffee because he always borrowed yours. You didn’t mind sharing your coffee but Seungmin loved it so much you decided he needed his own; it was only fair since you used his coffee machine. 

“Would you like me to make you a cup?” Seungmin yelled from the kitchen. 

“Yes, please! Can you add vanilla too?��� You ask.

“French or Bean?” He shouts back.

“Bean!!” You answer before going back to your task. You were going through your colors when your phone started ringing. It was Carter’s sister, Peyton. You put down your nail polish and answered the phone.

“Hey, what's up?” you ask putting the phone in between your ear and shoulder so you could proceed to paint your nails.

“Umm…w-what are you doing right now?” Peyton asked. You froze with the brush hovering above your nail bed. She was crying.

“I’m just about to paint my nails, why?” you ask, screwing the nail polish wand back into the tiny glass container. You grabbed the phone and held it firmly pressed to your ear. You heard your friend trying to control her breathing.

“Peyton? What’s going on?” You ask urgently.

“Carter was in a car accident early this morning…her car went off the road and hit a tree,” she choked out. Your heart stopped. There was no way.

“Is she okay?” you asked with every hope in the world that she was okay. There was silence. 

No. 

Please god no. 

There was a ringing in your ear that wouldn’t allow you to process what your friend was saying over the phone. While staring straight ahead you saw the picture frame that held a photo of you and Carter smiling together at the lake. You shook your head.

“I’m so sorry…” Peyton cried out. 

No.

You slowly set your phone on the floor as you stared at the picture. You could hear the faint voice of Peyton on the other line calling your name. You shook your head as you scooted backward until your back hit the bed frame. You press the heel of your hands to your eyes. 

“No No No..no this isn’t…this isn’t real,” you grit out between your teeth. After you moved to Seoul, you were only able to meet your best friend, Carter, once a year for a couple of days before returning to school. Little did you know that the last time you spent time with Carter would be the final time. You remained seated, hugging your legs, and rocking back and forth. Suddenly, you heard two pairs of footsteps coming to a sudden stop outside your door, before entering your room and starting to speak.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” Chris asked calmly but slightly frantic. He scanned you making sure you weren’t physically hurt. You open your eyes and look up. Standing in front of you were Chris and Seungmin. How does one relay this type of information without completely shattering?

“Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay, yeah?” Chris whispered, squatting to your level. You shook your head again. It wasn’t okay. 

“Carter-” you whispered. 

“Carter’s dead,” you finally say. They audibly gasped, Seungmin immediately squatting down to your level by Chris.

“Oh my god…” Seungmin breathed out. Chris crawled up next to you and gathered you in his arms. 

“Oh, my goodness y/n…I’m so sorry,” he said, arms circling your frame. You barely registered the movements until you were breathing in his scent. Seungmin had a hand on your back, rubbing it in soothing motions. He turned around when he heard your friend calling your name over the phone. He picked it up and held it to his ear.

“Hi…yeah Y/n is still here, Chris has her right now,” Seungmin said gently in English. Peyton asked you to call her back when you could. She hung up and Seungmin put the phone down. When Seungmin turned back to Chris, he was still holding you in his arms. 

“Peyton asked if you could call her back when you get the chance,” he said gently as he rubbed your knee. You nodded as your eyes shook. Their comfort was the one thing keeping you grounded and preventing you from going catatonic. After maybe 5 minutes, you lifted your head from Chris’s shoulder.

“I think, I think I’m going to call Peyton back, check in on her” you whisper. Seungmin rubbed a thumb over your hand. 

“Would you like us to stay?” He asked. Your friends were just so kind. You shook your head, giving them a tight-lined reassuring smile.

“I think I’ll be okay, thank you though.”

Chris squeezed you once more before hesitantly moving to stand up. 

“If you need absolutely anything at all, come get us okay?” He said with so much sincerity in his tone. You made eye contact with them and wordlessly nodded before the two walked out and closed the door. They made their way into the living room and found Minho and Han. The duo smiled at them until they saw the sad looks Chris and Seungmin had painted on their faces. 

“You guys okay?” Minho asked. Chris let out a small sigh and guided the boys further into the living room. They all sat down on the couch and the two listened intently.

“Y/n’s best friend Carter passed away,” Chris said looking at his hands. Minho and Han’s breaths hitched. 

“Oh my gosh…” Han whispered. Minho put a hand on Han’s knee. 

“How?” Minho asked. Seungmin shook his head.

“We don’t know…we didn’t ask,” said Seungmin. They realized it had to have been a freak accident or something; Carter was young. 

“Should we tell the others?” Minho asked.

“Eventually yeah, just so they know what’s going on,” Chris said quietly. After 30 minutes, Changbin, Hyunjin, Felix, and Jeongin finally got home from their classes. Chris quietly called them into the living room. They all quickly took off their shoes and sat down nervously.

“No one’s in trouble, I just have some news,” Chris said sadly. Everyone’s hearts started racing, even the ones who already knew.

“We don’t know how…but Y/n’s best friend Carter died,” Chris said sadly. Everyone’s eyes went huge. 

“Oh no…” Changbin said quietly, shaking his head. He couldn’t even imagine the look on your face when you found out. 

“How is she?” Jeongin asked quietly. Chris gave Jeongin a sad smile and patted his leg. 

“I think she’s in shock,” he whispered, remembering how he and Seungmin found you. They all sat in silence, not knowing what to say until Seungmin spoke up.  “She’s on the phone with Carter’s sister,” he said quietly. They all nodded, and all that could be heard were the cars outside. Back in your room, you picked up your phone and went to your recent phone calls. You clicked on Peyton’s contact and hit the soeaker button.

“Hey,” she croaked out. She’s been crying for a while. 

“Hey,” you whispered.

“How are you doing?” Peyton asked. You shook your head.

“I don’t know….”

There was silence for a while until Peyton spoke up.

“Do you think you would be able to fly down here next month?” she asked. You shrugged while rubbing your temple. You only flew down for the holidays and usually, you had enough saved for those flights only. Tickets weren’t cheap. 

“Yeah I think I can make it,” you say before Peyton lets out a sigh.

“Okay…I can pick you up from the airport if you’d like,” she offered. 

“Sure, yeah that works.”

This was not happening.

“Okay, I’ll keep you posted,” Peyton said thickly as she hung up. You let your arm fall to the side as you stared at the ceiling. You inhaled deeply and let out a long sigh. You decided to get out of bed and get that coffee that was probably lukewarm by now. The guys all whipped their heads around when they heard your door click. You slowly walked out of your room into the hallway, stopping in the entryway when you saw 8 pairs of eyes looking at you with so much concern. The sight of you was just so sad. You were wearing one of Hyunjin’s sweatpants and Chris’s black hoodie, which wasn’t new, but you looked so small and so lost, something they weren’t used to seeing. Your face had lost all of its color,  like you had just seen a ghost. You suddenly felt so vulnerable, scratching your neck.

“I uh *clears throat* thanks for the coffee, Seungmin,” you say, giving him a shaky smile. 

“No problem…” he says just as quietly. Everyone was still unsure how to approach this situation. Do they mention Carter? Do they act like nothing is wrong? Your hands were shaky, still in a state of shock from the phone call you got not even an hour ago. Minho and Changbin both stood up quickly when they watched you almost drop your mug. At this stage, the boys were nervous you were either going to drop the mug on your foot, spill the hot liquid on your skin, or all of the above. That fear came true when you took a shaky sip of your coffee, the hot liquid spilling out from the sides and hitting your wrists. You made a pained noise as you put the mug down. Minho swiftly walked into the kitchen calmly placed hands on your shoulders and led you to the sink, immediately turning on the cold water. 

Everyone knew you were headstrong, so they weren’t used to seeing you like this. Within your friend group, you were the third oldest, and in times when they needed someone to lean on, it came naturally to you to care for them. Only on a couple of occasions have they seen you upset, like during a sad drama or when you’d laugh so hard tears would spring to your eyes, or when COVID happened and so much was happening, but even then you remained strong for them, and right now you looked like you were on the brink of an anxiety attack.

“Come here,” Minho whispered after turning off the faucet. He walked you into the living room where everyone else was and pulled you into a hug. Your arms hung by your side and your breathing became uneven, but you refused to cry, cause once you cried then it was real. 

“You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to love, but what happened?” Minho asked carefully.

“Um…car accident?” you said almost as a question but more in disbelief. You heard someone make a pained noise while you stared at the wall.

“I don’t know how…maybe an animal ran out or maybe she was on her phone, I don’t know….but her car ran off the road…and she hit a tree.” No one knew what to say.

“Y/n…were so sorry,” Hyunjin said sadly. As much as you wanted to stay in someone’s embrace, you needed a distraction, something to take your mind off of things. You lifted your head and took a deep breath.

“I’m gonna try to get ahead on my reading, so I can get further in my research paper,” you said as you slowly pulled away from Minho, putting on your best attempt of a smile. Everyone nodded, not sure if they wanted you to be by yourself, but they respected your wishes and watched you retreat to your room. You flipped back and forth between reading and writing for a few more hours until your eyes hurt from staring at the screen for so long. You didn’t know how you were going to sleep. You tossed and turned in your bed for an hour, the phone call on replay in your mind. Well shit if you can’t sleep might as well study even more, right? You pulled out your laptop, the bright screen irritating your eyes even further as you started typing when all of a sudden there was a knock at your door.

‘Great, I woke one of the kids up’ you thought to yourself. You went to open the door and there stood the literal sun.

“Hey y/n,” he said sweetly. You gave him a small smile. 

“Hey Lixie, what’s up?” you asked.

"Can't sleep...can I stay with you tonight?" he asked playing with his sleeve. You grinned and pulled him into the room. You got under the blankets, Felix following close behind. You saved your work and put your laptop on your nightstand. You pulled the sweet boy into your arms and closed your eyes.

“Y/n?” He asked quietly. You hummed in response.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” he whispered. You ran your fingers through his hair.

“Thanks, Lixie.” He smiled and snuggled even deeper into your side. Felix dozed off in your hold, but you were wide awake. 

At around 7 am, Felix woke up. He sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He stared into your eyes, and by the looks of it, you hadn’t slept a wink. 

“Did you sleep at all?” He asked. You shook your head. 

“My brain wouldn’t let me,” you slightly chuckle. Felix pouted.

“I’m sorry,” he said in his low voice. You gave him a small smile. 

“Thanks for the cuddles Lixie,” you thank Felix as you pat his hand. He smiled and gave you a side hug.

“Anytime,” he said as he squeezed you. 

“Do you want to come to breakfast?” He asked. He figured you probably didn’t have the biggest appetite but he still wanted to ask. You shook your head.

“I’m not hungry, but maybe I’ll come out at some point, I’m gonna keep working on this,” you say, rubbing your eyes and pointing towards your laptop. Felix and patted your shoulder before getting out of bed and leaving your room. In the kitchen, Changbin and Seungmin were cooking. They both turned around when they heard footsteps.

“Morning Lix,” Changbin smiled. Felix gave Changbin the best smile he could, but the older one knew what was going through his head.

“How is she?” he asked quietly. Felix shrugged. 

“She didn’t sleep at all, which I get…I just feel so bad for her,” Felix sighed. They both nodded. 

“I don’t know if she’s still in shock or trying to numb herself but…I mean I know it hasn’t even been 24 hours yet so maybe she is just in shock but *sigh* I don’t know, it’s just hard seeing her that way,” Felix added. Seungmin shook his head.

“I’m sure she was very grateful you stayed with her last night, honey,” Changbin whispered as Felix hid his face further into the older’s neck, Seungmin walking up behind him and scratching his back. If Changbin felt wetness on his skin, he wouldn’t say a word. 

————————————————————————

ahhhhhh nerve wracking! I promise chapter 2 will be more lighthearted. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!❤️

taglist: @felixmainacc @felixburneracc @myforevermelody143 @dunno-wut-to-do @itzsana-kiddingmenow

[writerr-loverr]

crimson headcanons.

pairing ; crimson knolastname x (fem!) reader

warnings ; unhealthy relationship dynamics ahead!

note ; sigh i love morally ambiguous men. . . also, pls check out @/Nessie's crimson on character.ai! these headcanons were heavily inspired by their work, so show their character some love!

crimson, who means it when he says “no”; however, if you catch him in the right mood and absolutely need your allowance early, flash him that wide, doe-eyed stare, peeking at him through your lashes, which are generally wet with tears—he makes an exception, but "just this once, so don't go gettin' used to this kind of treatment.” in the end, you both get what you want because as he raises his golden money clip to your face, tapping the polished metal against your nose, he asks, “what am i gonna get in return, hm? ain’t nothin’ in this world free, doll.”

crimson, who doesn’t care if his men are watching when he beckons you with a gentle curl of his finger. you always come, walking over to see how you can help make his day better because that’s what you are; “you’re my happiness,” he coos, his eyes fixated on you, “so come make me happy.” often, he’ll wordlessly motion to his lap, signaling for you to sit, indifferent to your comfort–or discomfort, for that matter–at being displayed before his business associates. one of his hands will rest on the small of your back, his fingers pressing firmly into your skin so that you realize you’re there to be seen and not heard, but that’s okay. he reminds you that you don’t need to say anything, that you’re too pretty to worry about a thing as trivial as polite conversation.

crimson, whose men compliment him on how nicely he has you trained. he can’t have you believe that, though, because what others think doesn’t matter–you should only care about whether or not he thinks you’re good. "if that's true, then where's my drink?" he complains, his eyes narrowing as he hears the quiet tinkling of ice against glass. he sits in his chair, hand outstretched and expectant; once you serve him his drink with a hushed, “sorry for the wait,” he peers at you from the corner of his eye. before you can turn away, he reassures you he knows you’ll get it right one day, as soon as you get your cute little head out of the clouds and focus.

crimson, who has flowers delivered to you each night he is away on business. he doesn’t like to leave you alone because you are his good girl, so deserving of fresh-cut roses. too busy to personally write you a note, alessio reminds him to call you at his earliest convenience, even if it disrupts your slumber. always, he wants to hear how impressed you are with the floral arrangement, how you can possibly manage without him, and how you miss him. you indulge him, and although your words are laden with sleep, you manage to pepper in a few breathy, well-practiced pet names throughout the call: “i know you can’t wait to see daddy, kitten. now tell daddy exactly what it is about me that you miss.”

crimson, who asks if you’re purposefully trying to upset him when you move toward your bedroom door without your cheeks rosy, or lips painted a complementary hue of pink–more severe, less girlish colors are unbecoming. with his men posted in each corridor, standing guard at every hour, he believes it’s inappropriate for you not to look your best. “i don’t want anyone thinkin’ i’d settle for some second-rate pussy, sweetheart. go put on your fuckin’ face.” how you present yourself is a direct reflection of his ability to provide as a leader, so why would he allow you to embarrass him in his own home?

crimson, who wants everyone to know that you’re his baby doll–and you should look like it. pants are too mannish, he wants to see your pretty legs. something about the way the hem of your dresses brush so daintily against the top of your knee makes him strain not to crumble his cigar in his hands ("doll, i could just eat you up right now," he purrs). each morning after you’ve changed into your dress, he expects a kiss on the cheek and a sweet "thank you, sir," for buying you such nice clothes. if you forget to thank him, he decides that you don’t like your outfit and, therefore, don’t need it, meaning you’ll find it draped over his desk, a still-smoldering cigar hissing against the fabric. tutting his tongue, he shrugs, “ungrateful girls don't deserve nice things. you should know better.”

crimson, who knows how to twist your hair around his fingers just tight enough not to hurt, but still provide him the leverage to tilt your head back the way he likes it. with his free hand, he drags a finger across the underside of your chin, watching as goosebumps dust your skin in his wake. “who loves you?” he rasps, the gravel in his voice so low you swear it reverberates in your bones. “who treats you so good?” swallowing a whimper, you know the answer: “you do.”

[judethejudas]

‘Male Validation’ MW2 Soap x Trans! Male! Reader Smut

You’re new to the force but things don’t go as planned when you’ve been outed to the entire base.

Luckily someone has your back.

WARNING: transphobia, sexual themes, swearing, violence, discrimination. MINORS AND FEM ALIGNED DNI

(L/n) = Last name

“So, (l/n), you still got your lady bits down there?”

You felt your body being shoved against the wall, grunting in pain as you knew that was going to leave a nasty bruise.

Two men, who you were going to be deployed with and risk your lives together for the sake of your country, were being transphobic assholes.

You couldn’t believe it. Three years on testosterone and going through surgical operations to be comfortable in your own body. And for what? So the medical examiners could gossip and out you to the rest of the force?

“You’re real sick, you know that? What kind of woman gets all that shit done to them to look like a guy?”

“If any of my kids did what you did, I’d throw their sorry ass out in the streets and let ‘em rot out there.”

Now you’ve heard enough. No kid deserved to be treated like that. You certainly didn’t deserve it. You gritted your teeth and balled up your first, before putting all your strength into punching the nearest prick.

You landed him right in the jaw and he fell to the floor, clutching his face in pain.

“You’re gonna regret that one, tranny.” The man spit out viciously, before he abruptly left the floor and tackled you to the wall. He was about to kick your shit in.. real fucking bad.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

A man with a heavy Scottish accent growled out. All three of you looked the left and saw sergeant John Mactavish, or Soap as many referred to him.

One scary motherfucker.

The man who was holding you against the wall immediately backed off.

“Hey.. sergeant. You’re never gonna believe this but private (l/n)? Heh.. well, he’s actually a she.”

Soap stood there for a moment in silence, staring at you and squinting his eyes a little. It looked like he was glaring.

Oh shit, was he going to have a turn at beating your ass too?

He took a few steps forward.

But not to you.

He grabbed hold of the man who assaulted you by his hair and forcefully pulled him back to you.

“Does that look like a fucking woman to you, private?”

“Sir, I promise she’s-“

Soap threw him against the wall and he hit his head, tumbling to the floor.

The other man who was with him immediately went to help him up, finding that his friend was bleeding from the head.

“Hey! You can’t just-“

“Oh, but I can.”

The man scowled at Soap but didn’t give a reply.

“Man, woman, it doesn’t fucking matter when you’re out there on the field. But you remember the way you treated private (l/n) when you’re in a tight spot and need his help. You got that, you little cunts? Because he might not be so kind as to forgive this little incident. I know I fuckin’ wouldn’t.”

The men scurried off as soon as Soap finished lecturing them.

“Thank you, sergeant.”

“Come on, I need a drink.”

__________

The two of you were in his room.

He had poured you both two glasses of whiskey, to which you drank yours slowly and he downed his in one go. His glass was filled and he had a chance to speak his mind.

“I’ll be honest, (l/n). I can’t say I quite understand what you’ve been through or what you’ve done. But I know that no one should be treated like that. Especially when you have to count on each other as soon as you’re out there fighting.”

You stared down at your glass, seeing your reflection in the brown liquid and frowning. You just wanted to be respected and seen as the man you knew you were.

And it hurt knowing that half the base knew you weren’t born one.

“I can’t change who I am. I’ve been wishing for that almost all my life. I just couldn’t be happy with the person I was pretending to be so.. I started hormones and I got the surgeries. But it seems like a waste now.”

“Doesn’t look like a waste to me. I see a man, through and through. But..”

You looked back at him when he said the last word and became worried about what he would say.

“…Do the doctors just get someone else’s cock and stick it on to you or what?”

You nearly choked on the whiskey but you quickly recovered to burst out laughing.

And Soap was chuckling too.

“No- no, uh, it’s a long procedure and it takes a few of them to make it look even remotely real but uh.. no recycled penises.” You had to stifle your laughter to even explain to him what the surgeons did for you.

“So.. it works then?”

“I’d say it works very well, sergeant. Thank you for asking.”

“Hey I just had to make sure, alright? I’m new to this sort of thing.”

The two of you laughed and talked for more than an hour. Filling yourselves up on the whiskey until the bottle was completely empty. You talked about your life and transition journey and he talked about Task 141, all the things he’s seen and been through.

But as you got drunker, the topics would become less.. professional.

“So, sorry to be on the subject of your willy again but..”

“You want to see it?”

“Is that gay if I kinda do?”

“We both have socks on so I think we’re safe.”

The two of you laughed some more and you stood up from your seat, unzipping your pants and showing what you got.

“…”

“…”

“You must be pretty popular with the ladies at home then.”

You blushed and quickly put yourself away, fixing your pants and clearing your throat.

“Uh yeah, best thing about phalloplasty is that you can choose your size. Heh.”

“You wanna see mine?”

Now that caught you off guard. You had to stop your jaw from hitting the floor so you gave a casual ‘sure’ to your sergeant.

You had to play it cool or he would get a whiff of your wiles.

Not only were you a trans man, but you were incredibly gay.

John set his glass down on the table but didn’t get up from his seat. His hand unzipped his pants and he let out his half hard cock, which was quite the delectable size. 7 inches and you knew he could get bigger with some help from you..

Wait. He was hard?

You bit your lip, your hand gripping your pocket harshly. You couldn’t let yourself get aroused too.

“Come here, private. I won’t bite.”

“Sir..?” You let out a shaky breath. Maybe the whiskey did a little more than you thought. “I..”

“I believe I gave you an order just now,

didn’t I, lad?

Now that made you horny.

You felt your lower parts tingling when you walked up to him.

“Unzip yourself again.”

Your breathing quickened as you did as you were told, pulling out your cock again and taking a seat in his lap.

“I think you’ll do well with us, private. You’re good at following commands.” He mumbled in your ear and you could smell the harsh alcohol on his breath as he spoke.

“Sir-“

You were cut off quickly when you felt his hand on your dick.

You gasped as he started stroking it and you quickly covered your mouth.

“Don’t. I want to hear you.” He said, his free hand coming up to hold yours away from your lips.

Which reminded him..

His lips leaned in to touch yours and you moaned slightly, quickly accepting his tongue that prodded your bottom lip.

The two of you kissed passionately as his hand kept stroking your dick. You felt a bit more braver and took hold of his too.

He grunted against your mouth when your fingers wrapped around his length and jerked him off as well.

He pulled away from the kiss to messily suck on your neck. You were already moaning and squirming a little in his lap with all the attention you were getting from him.

“Hhnn, John.. please.”

“Please what?”

“…Please fuck me.”

Soap leaned away from your throat to give you another kiss, taking your hand off his cock and holding you from your ass soon after.

Then he stood up to go to the desk and lay you on top of it. But not before he took off your shirt.

Your top surgery scars were healed but still a bit prominent. Usually you used makeup to cover them but had forgotten this time.

You covered your chest and looked away.

“Show me.”

You looked at John with a worried look, and found acceptance in his.

There was no reason to hide from him.

You took away your arms and trembled when Soap leaned down to kiss your scars.

The tears welled up in your eyes and you tried not to cry.

Then jolted a little when you felt his lips wrap around your nipple.

And gave it a few sucks.

You moaned and arched your back into his mouth, whining out his name.

He smirked and pulled away as you breathed heavily, staring at him as he took off his shirt and pulled his pants down to his feet. His cock was 8.5 inches now and very thick.

You were practically drooling at the sight.

John spit in his hand and stroked his dick to lube himself. He also made you suck on his fingers to coat them, since you’d need a bit of prep yourself.

He felt it was good enough and took his fingers out and brought them down to your ass.

He stuck one in and your breathing hitched. You felt it moving in and out for a minute before feeling the other.

Your hand travelled down to stroke your cock, moving your head from side to side quickly as the pleasure was building up. It felt so good and you knew you would be getting close.

But then you felt empty all of a sudden.

You quickly looked at John and whimpered, who could only laugh.

“It’s alright, I figured you’d want something else about now..”

You felt the head of his cock at your entrance and gasped as he pushed in.

It hurt, he was bigger than what you were used to so you had to bite your fist.

“I’m almost all in.. just hold on for me, lad.” John shuddered as he kept burying his cock deeper inside you until you were fully bottomed out.

“Fuck..” He groaned, and started thrusting into you slowly.

“Mmhh, John.. it’s too big..!” You moaned against your hand, suddenly feeling embarrassed that you couldn’t handle it.

“I know you can take it, pretty boy. Don’t give up yet.”

You whined like a puppy, but you didn’t want to disappoint John, and it was actually starting to feel better.

But you were going to be so sore tomorrow.

Soap’s pace was getting faster now and he held your legs, moving them up to go over his broad shoulders.

You looked so submissive underneath him.

It turned him on.

It encouraged the Scottish man to keep pounding into your ass. You could only moan with every bounce against his dick and scratch against the wood of the desk.

The way your heat clenched around him was getting to be too much.

John pulled his cock out and spurted cum all over your stomach.

You came on yourself as well, soon after the other man did.

John stared down at you, panting with beads of sweat going down his chest and forehead.

That was the hardest he’s cum in a while.

He gave you a few minutes to catch your breath and then helped you clean up.

“Same time tomorrow?”

“Yes, sir.”

_________

I’d like to apologize for that transphobia in the beginning of the fic. It’s quite heavy and I don’t want to hurt anyone so I am very sorry if I did so.

At least our sweet John is here to comfort. <3

[bridgyrose]

Alright new prompt idea:

Everyone's weapons suddenly became sentient and gained the ability to talk.

(We'll start with one and work our way around.)

“Be careful where you’re swinging me!” 

Ruby stopped for a moment as she heard the voice ring out from next to her, eyes glancing to try to find who yelled out to her. It didnt sound like Weiss’s or Penny’s, a bit more like Yang’s, but… she knew that couldnt be right since Yang was back with Blake and Jaune at the village. Though, there wasnt anyone else around her to talk to her. 

“Ruby, watch out!” 

Ruby took a quick step back as Penny blasted a grimm that rushed at her, heart pounding as she realized she had almost let her guard down. “T-thanks Penny.” 

Penny rushed to Ruby’s side. “Your heart is beating rapidly. Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” Ruby answered back with a small smile, aware that Penny had scanned her before coming over. “You dont need to worry.” 

“And its not like you to get distracted in a fight,” Weiss said as she let go of the glyph that created an earthen wall around them. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

Ruby nodded and folded up her scythe once she was sure the grimm were taking care of. “I thought I heard someone yell out to me.” 

Penny looked a bit confused. “But there is no one else here with us.” 

“I know.” Ruby put her scythe onto her back and sighed. “Maybe my communicator picked up someone else’s frequency. I doubt we’re the only huntresses who were sent all the way out here in Anima.” 

Weiss shrugged and sheathed her rapier. “In that case, it might be best for us to use Penny’s scroll as a relay. That way we can make sure its only us that we hear.” 

“I’d rather keep everything the way it is in case Yang needs to reach us.” Ruby pulled out her scroll and removed one of the markers from a map. “Looks like we have two more areas to check for grimm. Then we can return to the village for the night and leave in the morning.” 

Penny smiled. “Lead the way.” 

Ruby nodded and started to make her way through the forest, eyes peeled as kept an eye out for other grimm that they might’ve missed. Though, her mind was still distracted by whoever yelled out to her. Penny was right, there wasnt anyone else with them, but she could’ve sworn the voice came from right next to her. She turned off her communicator for a moment to let it reboot as she walked deeper into the forest, watching as the sunlight almost seemed to disappear when leaves got thicker. 

“The next time we fight grimm, make sure not to hit the plating on them,” the voice spoke up again behind Ruby. “I know I can cut through it, but it still hurts to do that.” 

Ruby paused in her step and readied her scythe, looking behind her. “Who’s there?” 

“Did you hear something again?” Penny asked. 

“I-I thought I did,” Ruby said as she lowered her scythe. “It sounded like someone spoke to me right behind me.” 

The voice spoke again, but this time quieter and sounded more like it was in Ruby’s head. “Because I was on your back. But now that I’m in your hands, can you please check my blade? I’m pretty sure its dented from our last fight.” 

Ruby almost felt her heart stop as she looked around for where the voice came from again. Someone had to have been messing with her. Fox had telepathy that let him speak to others in their heads, so it wouldnt be too far-fetched to think that another huntsman would have a semblance similar to his. Though, as she looked down at her scythe, she swore she saw a reflection that wasnt her own in the metal of the blade.  

“You see how my blade is dented, right? Can you please fix that?” 

“Who are you?” 

“Crescent Rose,” the voice answered, its tone starting to become a bit sarcastic. “You were the one to give me that name.” 

“Crescent Rose.” Ruby whispered under her breath, still staring at her scythe. Normally, she’d been thrilled to find out her weapon could talk, but right now, it seemed like a nightmare. Another voice to listen to, one that she couldnt tell was real or not. “I’ll check your blade after we have a moment to rest. Until then, I have to keep fighting.” 

“Fine,” Crescent Rose answered. 

“You have been staring at your weapon for a while,” Penny said. “Are you sure you are okay?” 

Ruby jumped a bit as she felt Penny’s hand on her shoulder, quickly folding up her weapon and placing it on her back. “Of course I’m fine!” she lied. “Never felt better! We’re almost to the next recon point, so I think its time for us to start moving forward!” 

Weiss put up a glyph. “Oh no you dont.” 

Ruby stopped just before hitting the glyph, turning around to face Penny and Weiss. “Look, what’s going on with me doesnt matter right now. What does is finishing our mission to make sure this new settlement  is able to survive. If we dont then it’ll get overrun and-” she paused for a moment as she watched Weiss unsheathe her sword and look at it. “Weiss? Are you listening?” 

“Y-yeah, I’m listening,” Weiss said as she sheathed her rapier. “You’re right. We need to finish this mission before we worry about anything else.” 

Ruby nodded slowly, not sure why Weiss had a sudden change of heart but not really willing to argue with it. Afterall, it meant that they could start moving forward for the moment. Though, the way Weiss glanced at her rapier looked the same way she did. The look of confusion on her face, the sudden change in how she acted, all familiar to what she just experienced. 

“There’s been a change in plans,” Yang’s voice said over the communicator. “I need you, Weiss, and Penny back at the village.” 

“What for?” Ruby asked. “We’re still tracking down the last of the grimm-” 

“It’ll be easier to explain once you get back. I’m not sure how much you’d believe.” 

“What about the grimm? If we dont take care of them, they’ll come back again.” 

“That’ll be a fight we’ll take care of when it happens.” 

“Understood,” Ruby said with a sigh. “Looks like we’re going back to the village.” 

Penny paused for a moment as she looked out towards the direction they had been heading. “Are you sure that is a good idea?” 

“No, but… Yang said it was important.” Ruby sighed and started walking to the village again. “Worst case, the grimm attack again and we’ll be ready-” 

“Grimm to your left,” Crescent Rose interrupted. 

Ruby stopped and looked to her left, watching as a few of the bushes started to shake as a pack of beowolves jumped out at them. She quickly grabbed her scythe, unfolded it and smirked as she sliced at the closest grimm. Maybe having a talking weapon wasnt going to be too awful. 

[verfound]

FIC: "Of Suitable Proposals" (MLB; Lukanette; LBSC Lukanette Month 2024)

@lovebugs-and-snakecharmers is doing a Lukanette Month for September 2024, and we all just kinda tossed some prompts in the disco to compile a list?  We ended up with 71 prompts, so I decided I’d roll some dice to pick a prompt, do a twenty minute (ish, bc we all know sometimes they run away from me) sprint, and try to get some short fics out this month?

Read on Ao3

Prompt 35: Rhythm

When he finally started to come to, Luka wasn’t sure where exactly he was, but the smell and the feel and the steady rhythm of the heartbeat playing strong beneath his ear sure felt a hell of a lot like home.  He felt like he’d been sleeping forever, which…he probably had been.

He never slept well on the road.  He slept enough, but he never felt as rested as he did in his own bed with Marinette sleeping beside him.

…he was really starting to hate touring.  He hated being away from her.  He hated the constant circus touring with Jay was.  He hated…

The bed…no, not the bed.  Marinette shifted beneath him, and he felt himself sinking into her with a sigh.  He didn’t hate this.  He loved this.

…he loved it more when his body didn’t feel like he’d been hit by a truck.

Everything ached, his limbs feeling heavy and sore in that way they did when you’d slept too much.  He was pretty sure…he vaguely recalled getting up…some time ago, because he’d had to pee.  He kind of sort of remembered staring at his reflecting in the mirror as he’d washed his hands, thinking he looked like shit before his eyes had dropped to his chest, where his own face had been staring back at him.  He couldn’t remember why he was wearing his own merch – there was some fuzzy idea about Crusher and curry and this was why he hadn’t asked Dingo to hit the road with him yet – but he was quickly ripping it over his head and tossing it towards the hamper they kept in the linen closet.

That was…it was…people like XY wore their own tour shirts.

At least the ones with their own faces on it.

(He had, both ironically and unironically, worn the shirt with “Luke Stone” stamped in fancy letters across his chest.  That one wasn’t as obnoxious, and sometimes helped in busy airports.)

He must have made it back to the bed, because he was pretty sure that’s where he was now.  In bed, with Marinette, where he was supposed to be.  He had no idea what time it was, though, or how much had passed.  He had thought it was light out when he’d gotten up earlier, but those were streetlights coming in through the open window.  And that was definitely Marinette under him, but he wasn’t sure how awake she was.  Her heartbeat was steady, her breathing even, but her fingers were lazily dragging through his hair.  Her other hand…was on his arm, absently stroking along his bicep.  He sighed and turned his face towards her, his nose squishing as it poked against her sternum.

“Are you finally waking up?” her soft voice came from above him.  He hummed and dropped a kiss between her breasts.  She giggled in response.  “Luka?”

“Not sure,” he sighed.  “Pretty comfy right here.  Don’t think I want to move yet.  How long…how long was I out?”

He yawned in the middle of it, and she hummed as she tugged gently on his hair.

“Over a day,” she said.  “Almost two.”

He pushed himself up at that, startled eyes staring back at her.

“…no,” he said.  She giggled and moved her hand from his arm, reaching for him, and there was something…he froze again as he saw Gina’s ring glinting in the low light from the window.  His eyes widened, a look of horror on his face.  “No…”

“You were exhausted,” she said.  “Penny said you’d had a rough couple of days.  You needed it, star.”

“Marinette, why are you…did you go through…my bag,” he groaned as bits of the last twenty-four (forty-eight?) hours started to come back to him.  He grabbed at her fingers, his brow furrowing as he stared at the gleaming pink opal shining up at him from a very specific finger.  He hadn’t…he hadn’t actually…and had she…he would remember proposing to her, wouldn’t he?

“Penny brought it by this morning,” she said, curling her fingers over his and smiling.  “Everything’s fine.  It actually was on the plane – just mislabeled.  It’s ok.  See?  Your bag was fine.  The ring was inside.  It’s ok.”

“No, it’s not,” he said, shaking his head.  “Darning, you…why are you wearing it?  You weren’t supposed to know.”

“You told me,” she said, as if it was obvious.  And maybe it was, because he kind of remembered her  being there while he freaked out over losing the ring in the first place?  “When they lost your bag, you told me what was in it.  It’s ok, Luka.”

“It’s not,” he insisted.  “Did…did I actually propose?”

She bit her lip, and he groaned as he dropped his face against her chest.

“No.  No, no, no, no, no…” he groaned.  “Please tell me I at least remembered the candles.  Rose said there had to be candles – she’s going to kill me if I forgot the candles.”

Marinette grew silent for a moment.  Long enough that he started to worry, but when he looked up at her she just looked…surprised.

“…oh,” she finally said, shaking her head.  “You…you mean you did have a plan?”

“Of course I had a plan,” he said.  He winced at her look.  “Well…parts of a plan.  I knew it had to be romantic.  Rose was helping – and Tom – so I’d do it right.  Big gesture kind of thing.”

“It really didn’t,” she said, touched but also slightly baffled.

“You love that stuff,” he insisted.

“I love you,” she said, rolling her eyes.  “The rest is just…details.  Filler.  Icing – not even that.  It’s sprinkles.”

“And you love sprinkles!” he said.  “Mari.  Please.  I know you.  Tell me I didn’t fuck this up.”

“You didn’t,” she insisted.  She looked back at the ring and bit her lip, a little frown creasing her brow.  “…I might have, though.”

“…what?” he asked.  She sighed and pulled him down towards her, and for a moment he was too lost in how good it felt to be home and kissing her to remember he was supposed to be freaking the hell out.

“Penny told me to give the stupid ring back.  Take it off before you woke up.  Penny’s always right,” she sighed, and at his frown she bit her lip.  “You…you didn’t actually ask, Luka, but you did let it slip, and that was as good as asking for me.  But you…actually, you were really adamant about the fact that you were not asking.  Not until you actually had the ring, at least.”

He…kind of remembered that?

“Because I was supposed to ask you right,” he huffed.  “Big, romantic gesture.  I was supposed to actually have the ring.  It was all supposed to mean something.”

“…well, that’s just stupid,” she said, shaking her head.  She tugged on his hair again, and he groaned as he pressed his forehead into her shoulder.  “Of course it means something – you’re asking me to marry you.  That very much means something, Luka, whether you have a ring or a big proposal planned or not.”

“I was working on that,” he sighed.  “Failing at that.  Nothing felt good enough.”

“Will it matter anything if I tell you I really don’t care how you ask as long you just do?” she sighed, bringing her hands up to cup his face.  Her thumb brushed beneath his eye, and he sighed as he leaned into her touch.  “Seriously.  Luka, I was never expecting a big proposal from you.  I…honestly, I always expected you to do it by accident.”

“…what?” he asked, chuckling slightly.  “Marinette.  Give me a little more credit than that.”

“No, seriously!  I was waiting for you to just…ask.  Spontaneously.  Because I said something dumb and you thought it was adorable, or you got into one of your artistic moods where you started comparing my heartbeat to Pachelbel or something –”

“I would never,” he laughed, but she just lifted an eyebrow at him because he had compared it to Beethoven.  Once.

(…and classic Jagged another time, but he had regretted that the second he’d said it and had never brought it up again because who wants to think about their dad when they’re…ahem.)

“My point, Luka, is you are not a planner, and this…this feels like us, doesn’t it?” she asked, tapping the finger with the ring against his face.  It felt heavier, though he knew that had to be in his head.  The ring wasn’t really that heavy – not enough to notice a difference.  Still, it felt…  “You losing the ring and accidentally telling me about it because you were too tired to think straight.  That…that’s so us, don’t you think?  More than some big, elaborate, ridiculous thing?”

“Rose would argue I’m cheating you out of romance,” he said, and she rolled her eyes.

“I love Rose, I do, and you know I love romance, but…maybe conventional romance isn’t our romance?  What about us has ever been traditional, Luka?  You’re a Couffaine, for Pete’s sake,” she huffed.  He chuckled and kissed her.

“At the least you deserved a nice dinner,” he hummed.  “I know you love seeing me dress up.”

“I do at that,” she sighed, kissing him again.  “Almost as much as I love seeing you dress down.”

He chuckled, and she blinked as she leaned back.  He hummed, nipping at her lip to try to get her kissing him again, but she shook her head.

“No, that’s not…I mean undressing you.  After you’ve dressed up.  Or down.  Or…stop laughing, Luka, you know what I meant,” she huffed, but he was still chuckling as he tucked his face against her neck.  He pressed a kiss there before pulling away to grin at her.

“So maybe you give it back and let me take you to dinner tonight,” he suggested.  “Act all surprised when I get down on one knee.  I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to get down on one knee, at least.”

“Please,” she said, rolling her eyes.  “With your knees?  You’ll never get back up.  Too many stage slides and superhero antics, remember?”

“Hey!” he laughed, bumping their noses together.  “My knees aren’t that bad yet!  I’m not that old!”

She laughed and kissed his cheek, as if apologizing for the slight, and he sighed as he turned his head and caught her lips again.  He felt like he had too much time to make up for, and he knew what they were talking about was important, but…

“My point, Luka, is that it doesn’t matter,” she said after a moment, tugging on his hair to keep him from distracting her again.  “Take me to dinner to celebrate the engagement, if you want, but I’m not taking it off.  I don’t want to.  It belongs there, as much as I belong with you.  I like wearing it.  I like being Marinette Couffaine.”

And oh, if that didn’t sound amazing…

“…it’s just an engagement ring, Marinette,” he said softly, all traces of humor gone from his voice.  He closed his hand over hers and brushed his thumb against the opal.  “I mean.  Technically it’s not, I don’t think, but Gina said you’d always loved this ring, and it felt…you do like it, right?  You’re not mad that it’s not very…traditional?”

She yanked his face towards hers, kissing him harshly.  Her fingertips pressed into his cheeks almost painfully.  He was a little dizzy when she finally let him go.

“You are not getting this ring back, Luka Llewellyn Couffaine,” she bit, her voice low and almost growling.  “It’s mine.  You are mine.  I love this ring, and I love you.  So just ask already so I can officially introduce myself as the future Mme. Couff–”

He pushed her back into the bed, his mouth back on hers and his hands grasping her own and pressing them into the pillows above them.  She started laughing, and that just made him want to kiss her more – until she squirmed and lifted her hips against him, and then he was reminded that she was there and his fiancée (technically) and he hadn’t seen her in three months…

“O…ok,” he panted, running his nose along the column of her neck as her hands moved along his sides.  “Marry me already.”

She grinned up at him, her eyes sparkling almost as bright as the opal fire in her ring.  Maybe brighter.

…definitely brighter.

“Why, Luka Couffaine,” she said, smoothing his hair back and grinning up at him.  “I thought you’d never ask…”

[teal-fiend]

The priest had a request for an exorcism. She usually dealt with house hauntings, never a haunted person. But her new business partner assured her it would be no issue.

The priest parked in the gravel driveway of an old Victorian home. She emerged from her black cadillac, in her black robe, her dark hair braided neatly. She wore leather gloves, holding a sleek black briefcase, the only white being her clerical collar. 

She rang the doorbell once and seconds later it opened to a distraught older woman, hair frizzled from stress. She invited the priest into the home, and brought her to the parlor. The priest accepted a cup of tea, and listened to the lady’s struggles.

“It’s my son,” the old woman said, “he came home to help me clean my basement… but he wasn’t the same afterwards, I’m at my wits end, his wife refuses to see him. He’s scared his own children. Please Mother, help him. You will, won’t you?”

“Of course,” the priest said in a calming voice, like a psychotherapist. “Where is your son now?”

“He’s down there still, he hasn’t come out in days”

“Oh dear,” the priest said sympathetically. “Could I perhaps have a moment alone with him, if you don’t mind.”

—

“Hello David,” the priest said politely. David snarled at her.

“I’m sure you know why I’m here.”

‘David’ grinned maliciously. He didn’t look right, his teeth were wrong, and it seemed like he had black mould growing on him. Not healthy. 

“You think you can just get rid of me?”

The priest sighed despondent, “I haven’t had much luck in the past to be honest. I don’t know how much you demons communicate with each other, but I’ve never had a reputation as a formidable exorcist. 

David laughed at her candidness. 

The priest smiled politely, “but recently I’ve gotten some assistance.”

She patted her briefcase. The devil’s eyes flashed to it, a kind of recognition registered with them.

“It’s been a game changer, really.”

David looked a little curious, a little scared, “what’s in there?”

“I’ll show you in a minute, but first, I’d like to give you the chance to leave of your own volition.”

David stared at her humorously. “You can’t threaten me.” But there was some fear in the devils’ voice, or at least anticipation. It could tell there was something wrong. There was something off about the briefcase, but they couldn’t put their finger on it.

It was just a briefcase; sleek, black, a slight reflective shine. But it seemed to buzz with an energy, maybe it was just how the priest was talking it up, making it seem important. But whatever was in there couldn’t be all that dangerous to the devil. Salt, sage, holy water, the works. Nothing the devil couldn’t dodge.

 In fact, it planned to kill the priest soon, but it waited for her to reach over and unclasp the silver lock, and as she lifted the bag open, a shadow leapt out and knocked David back, latching onto him and leaching into his eyes and mouth, seeping in like ink. 

And that was it. David opened his eyes, appearing calmer, he licked his lips as if he had just tasted something.

“Mm, that was good.” He picked at his teeth. “You got it?” the priest asked. 

“Ah, yep, all taken care of,” he patted his stomach.

The empty briefcase lay open on the table. As it was now, empty, it looked a lot like a normal briefcase. David too looked less possessed, but that was only because this demon was better at hiding it. 

“Okay, get back in the bag.”

The demon sighed, then re-emerged, spilling out of it’s temporary host and landing on the table. It was hard to describe a shadow as being full, but it looked full. It slinked back lazily into the briefcase, and the priest closed the lid on it, pressing it down slightly so the latch would fit. 

David shook his head, “I’m back…” “Are you alright?”

“I… I think so? Is it…?” he looked at the briefcase, because it twitched like there was a struggle going on.

“Um, yes,” the priest said, “I’ve extracted the spirit from you, and I have it in here. Don’t worry, I will dispose of it properly.” She petted the suitcase, as if trying to calm it. David looked sceptical, but since he didn’t fully understand the situation, he took the priests word for it. 

“Thank you,” he breathed, bowing slightly. 

“Not at all,” she said, chipper, “Would you like to come upstairs.”

—

The older woman embraced her son when she saw him, the priest said goodbye quietly and left them to have their reunion.

She walked down the gravel drive with her suitcase - a little heavier than it was when she arrived, her arm ached slightly. 

She laid it to rest on the passenger seat of her car, placing it gently because it seemed like too much disturbance would cause it to rip open. It looked cramped, like someone had stuffed too many folders or perhaps clothing into it at once. 

She carefully put the seatbelt through the handle and buckled it in so that it wouldn’t fall into the footwell during the ride. She placed a hand on it, the leather was warm to the touch, and pliant. She rubbed back and forth soothingly and felt it grumbling under her hand. She heard too a faint, muffled, meaty gurgle inside. 

“Good job.”

[princessmisery666]

But We Lost It

Summary: Steve can save the world, but can’t save his own. 

Warnings: angst, break-up, unresolved angst, not a happy ending.

W/C: 1.4k

Pairing: Steve Rogers x wife!reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

Notes: @justagirlinafandomworld sent me this request - Hi, hi, hi! So there is this song "But We Lost It" by Pink. Full of angst, it's about a relationship that has become distant over time - and this is where it took me.

A/N: Yvette, my love, thank you for all your support and sorry to start the year on an angsty note but here we are!! 😍🤣

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch // @cockslutpadalecki // all mistakes remain my own.

Graphics: dividers @firefly-graphics

Master Lists: All the Fandoms // Steve Rogers

But We Lost It 💔

The house is quiet when I get home. It’s late - again. I don’t remember the last time I got home at a decent hour. If it weren’t so late, there would be music playing, or you would be humming while you worked. Your job afforded you the luxury of working from home, but you’d have clocked out hours ago. Yet the silence is eerie. It feels like a harbinger of bad news. 

I toe off my boots and drop my keys into the bowl by the door. The sound of metal on crockery reverberates around the unnatural silence. I feel the panic fizz in my gut, and my senses kick into high gear, preparing me for the unexpected.

Where are you? It’s a little after two a.m. on a Wednesday, and you should be sleeping, but there is a hint of your perfume that’s too fresh for you to be in bed. I pause in the hallway, listening. My memory takes over my senses, and in my mind, I see you clear as day, leaning against the kitchen door frame, ready to greet me the way you used to. You’d give me enough time to plant my feet, and then take off, running the length of the corridor, leaping into my arms as if I’d been gone for months and not hours. A scenario you’ve ensured would never exist because you followed me wherever I was needed or running to.

Dawdling, I drag myself toward the kitchen, remembering that you’d gone with me without complaint when I was stationed on the opposite side of the world for a few months. You worked ridiculous hours to accommodate the time difference, but somehow a hot meal and a clean house were always waiting for me. The house is clean but no home-cooked meal aromas greet my senses. Why would you bother now? I'm never home for dinner. I no longer bother to call to say I’ll be late, and some nights I stay at the compound.

There was a time I used to think you took being my wife more seriously than breathing. But both our priorities seem to have changed as of late. 

“Hey,” I say softly when I enter the kitchen and see you sitting at the table.

I can’t describe the warm relief that flows through me when I see you’re okay. But that’s all that I feel -  relief. Before I’d have felt an overwhelming yearning, carrying you from the hallway and taken you right there on the kitchen table. When did I lose that? I can’t count the number of tables we’ve had to replace after our passion broke them.

The low lights over the countertops make the darkness beyond the windows deeper. As I walk to the fridge, I expect to see a face staring back at me from the shadows, an enemy to fight and explain the fear churning in my gut. All I see is myself and the distorted reflection of my wife. Are we enemies now?

How long have you been sitting there - waiting for me?

You don’t reply or acknowledge my presence. If I didn’t know any better, I’d believe you were a beautiful sculpture. That’s still true, at least. You're still as beautiful as the day I met you.

I recall the excitement that made butterflies dance in my stomach the first time you smiled at me. The faint smile you muster this time suffocates them until their dance comes to an abrupt end.

“Do I need to say it?” you ask.

“No,” I sigh, taking a large gulp of my water. 

I knew this was coming. I’d expected it weeks - months - ago. I’ve been too selfish to do it, I didn't want to be the bad guy, so I’ve been waiting. I should be heartbroken, and somewhere deep down, I am. But it’s as if I’m mourning the loss of a feeling, not you, and at the moment, all I feel is a weird sense of calmness. 

Being a fugitive shouldn’t have been fun. T’Challa was kind enough to hide the five of us in Wakanda for a short time, and while it was tough living in such close quarters with Wanda, Natasha and Sam, we had made a calculated effort to make the relationship work. So much so that they’d all started loudly announcing themselves before entering a room so as not to walk in on something they couldn’t unsee. 

Sitting at the edge of a beautiful lake, watching the sun descend below the horizon with Wakandian rum warming me from the inside as your heat seeped into my chest where you rested against me, I felt like the luckiest man alive. 

We were together, safe, belly full of decadent food after spending a day helping tend to the goats and the evening swimming in the lake. It shouldn’t have been as enjoyable as it was, but being with you made it a perfectly weird vacation. 

“Is it wrong that I’m so content right now?” I whispered, lips brushing the shell of your ear. 

“Maybe a little,” you shrugged, “but I’m right there with you, Captain.”

The sun kissed the horizon and set the sky on fire in a spectacular canvas of orange and pink as I gently guided your head around to look up at me. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

I kissed you, sweet and tender. This was all I needed, Bucky was getting the help he needed, and I had you. I didn’t care what happened or where we ended up. As long as I had you, I’d be happy.

As always, you lost your breath before I did and pulled back. The sunset reflected in your eyes, setting them ablaze, and my heart took control of my mouth, “Marry me?”

A week later, you’d become Mrs. Rogers.

I pull myself out of the memory, heart clenching painfully, mourning the happiness we left in Wakanda. When bones break, they grow back stronger. I wish that were true for muscles. The heart being the most important of them all. Yours stretched to breaking point, only it’s never snapped back into place. I’m the one person who could mend it, but I’ve been, or chose to be, oblivious to the agony I’ve been causing you. 

You’ve been struggling for a while now, trying to fight your way to the surface, carrying us both to try and find the breath of fresh air we needed. Funny how I can see that now, the effort you’ve put in and how I’ve shot you down at every turn. Ultimately you're not strong enough, and the dead weight of our relationship is too heavy for you to hold on your own. So you’re letting go.

You stare into my eyes, and my whole body tenses. My fight or flight response screams at me to do something. Be done with it and run or stand and fix things; fight for us. But I don’t know if there’s anything left to fight for.

The walls feel like they’re closing in, and I’m suddenly too hot. The house has felt empty for months. Even when you were there, I’ve been living alone. Like the thoughts in my head, you peer at me blankly. The gaze drags on, and as it stretches, the less I recognize you, like the night I came home to you asleep in our bed and noticed you’d changed your hair, suddenly you were a stranger to me.

“My bags are in the car,” you explain, “my keys are in the dish.” 

“I can stay at the compound,” I object. You shouldn’t have to leave your home too.

You shake your head, averting your gaze to stare at your fidgeting hands. “I don’t want to be here.” 

We’re better off this way, but that hurts. I guess the damage is done; there’s no need for apologies. If we’re gonna separate our lives, we may as well make a clean-cut. At least that way, I have a chance at surviving it.

“We can’t erase our life together,” you say, getting to your feet, “but I need to escape it. I don’t understand why but we don’t work anymore, and I’m tired of hurting.”

You wait for a beat, two, three, but I have no words. Nothing. I can’t comfort you. We’re suffocating, bleeding, and I’m the cause, no longer the cure.

“Goodbye, Steve,” you whisper with a finality that shatters a piece of me. You walk closer, timidly slipping your hand on my cheek, and briefly, the flutter of butterfly wings tingle in my stomach. You kiss my cheek, and as if it were laced with venom, it kills the sensation.

I can fight for the world. I’ve saved the world, but strangely I watch mine walk out of the door without a word.

Master Lists: All the Fandoms // Steve Rogers

Requests Open - info here.

[gamegem92]

(VamPaper AU) Stranger in the Mirror

(VamPaper AU Chapter Two)

Dawn came as quick as dusk, and yet, only two of our Rocham-bros were awake at the time. Paper just couldn’t sleep soundly at all that night- who WAS that? What did Scarlett want with him? What would have happened if his friends were in his place?

“PAPER WAKE UP! IT’S TIME FOR BREAKFAST AND SCISSORS REFUSES TO MAKE HIS OWN!”

“YOU KNOW THE TOASTER HATES MY GUTS!”

“At least THEY got a decent sleep last night,” he told himself. As he trekked to the bathroom, he was genuinely nervous. Scarlett almost resembled one of the vampires from the movie… but that was ridiculous! Vampires don’t slap magic stickers onto people, they bite them! …right? But vampires do need lots of sleep…

“Stay calm, Paper, you are NOT a… hmph. I’m not even going to SAY that word. Because I’m NOT… that word.” He headed for the mirror to check. Vampires have no reflection! So if I have one, I’m fine! NOT a vampire! He looked into the mirror, and…

He was right there.

“I can see myself just fine. I’m fine. I’m not a-aaaaAAAAAAH!” Right there, in the mirror, he saw himself… with fangs. TWO. GLITTERING. FANGS. “Okaythisisprobablyjustaprank…” he looked at the fangs again, dragging his tongue against one… no plastic, no glue… they were real. He stared at the mirror, still trying to process what was going on. Was he a vampire? He had fangs, but he had a reflection, too! It just didn’t make sense! How-

…how long has he been standing there?

“Paper! hurry up in there! Rock’s starting to worry about you!” Almost as soon as the pounding on the door stopped, he looked back at his roommates.

“I’m fine. I’m perfectly fine! I’ll be out momentarily!” Nervously, he tried to find something to hide the fangs, but there was nothing. Even filing their down would have hurt! As he just got out of the bathroom, he tried to avoid eye contact. “Here I am, perfectly fine!”

As Rock hugged him, Scissors immediately glared over, and asked, “then what were you screaming about?”

“…I slipped.”

~~~~~~~

By the time Paper finally started making breakfast for himself- and Scissors, because he didn’t want to burn his hand in the toaster again- he was genuinely nervous. WAS Scarlett a vampire? WOULD his friends notice? Rock asked something- he could barely hear it. Probably how he slept. He made a promise to be honest, though…

“Did I… sleep better? No, I slept way worse! I don’t know how either.”

“Actually, I was asking for some butter…” Paper heard THAT correctly, and calmly slid the butter across the table, and Rock applied it to his toast. “Anyway, did you have any bad dreams? Would you like to discuss?” Paper didn’t know what to say. No dreams, just a lingering headache and a genuine feeling of fear. There was something about him that seemed off, but nobody could place it.

“I didn’t ask for Paper’s life story, I asked for salt!” Of course Scissors was being bossy again… Paper was still dazed, so he could barely tell which shaker was salt from the label alone, so he just reached for whichever one looked more likely, and threw it directly at Scissors. “…close enough.”

Paper was still in a haze, and he could barely understand anyth- SNIFF SNIFF. What was that? The scent was… citrusy, like sunshine, almost welcoming. It almost smelled… helpful. What was it? By the time Paper opened his eyes, he saw… a cup of orange juice?

“Can I, uh… I’d like some juice,” he added, as his roommates looked in awe. “Um… please.”

“You sure? It’s got pulp.” Paper said nothing, and just looked over at the pitcher curiously. It’s just orange juice! It can’t be that satisfying! Right? As he reached over, he stopped halfway, and then tried again, pouring himself a glass. As he stared into the beverage, he just couldn’t seem to understand what happened last night.

“Maybe I should just try to forget about that night and focus on now,” he told himself, almost at a frequency he didn’t think could be heard by his friends, and just took a sip… and enjoyed it. “Just one more sip,” he told himself. He repeated this in his mind after each sip, and before he knew it, he was… already satisfied? HOW? Did he get any on his face? Hopefully not, the lingering scent would have drove him NUTS.

“Haha! You kinda look like a vampire!” Paper turned to face Scissors, who was clearly laughing at the slight patches of juice still on his face. That combined with the sleepless look DID make him resemble a vampire. But he wasn’t! …was he? What if he WAS?

“Well, good thing I’m NOT a vampire. Because they aren’t real. And I’m not.“

“Calm down, Paper, he was joking!” Almost immediately, he calmed down and stopped himself. What was HE so nervous about? He wasn’t a vampire! Neither was that person at the movie! Scarlett was probably just insane… wait, that’s almost as bad as being a vampire… “Actually, he kinda does look the part… would explain a lot, right?” Paper had to think fast- almost immediately, it occurred to him… maybe he was a- no! NO! Vampires don’t exist! The red eyes were probably from a lack of sleep, and the fangs could’ve been surgically added!

“Why do you keep insisting that I’m a vampire? I’m not going to tell you this AGAIN.” He stood up and headed for the couch, his stomping barely making a sound. “Vampires are NOT real, and I am NOT A VAMPIRE!”

“This just in…” The trio all looked over at the TV, and noticed a strange winged silhouette upon the night sky. The red glow in its eyes almost reminded them of a… “vampires ARE, in fact, real.” As our Rocham-Bros kept listening to the witnesses explaining their encounters, it cut to someone that one of them recognized. Almost. Immediately. “We now go to our lead vampirologist, Professor Scarlett Moore.” All Paper could do was stare at the screen. It was HER. This was HER doing. SHE was the reason for his pain.

“Thank you. Now, what is the ONE thing we know vampires are capable of? TRANSMISSION.” On the screen appeared a PSA detailing everything Scarlett was saying. “The traditional method involves vampire biting an individual and possibly drinking their blood, while a different method discovered in Ancient Greece was to find and consume a wolf-killed lamb.”

“That’s not how SHE did it,” mumbled Paper.

“But vampires have adapted to the modern day and devised new methods to convert people to their side. To keep them at bay, remember this acronym: WORMS.” The acronym WORMS showed up on screen. Now, to state the verbatim of the instructions would be too long, so the shortened version… Windows, Oils, Restrictions, Metal, Sunlight. At the end, the three of them looked at each other.

“…you were saying?”

~~~~~~~

After finally getting back home with a few library books he checked out, Paper tried to focus on them to the best of his ability. He probably wasn’t a vampire! Yet! As long as he could keep himself and his roommates safe, he could easily keep them from… from… no! Don’t even think about that! Everything will be okay!

“Chapter One: vampires, an overview. Immortal hemisphere- uh… h-hemo…” he had trouble understanding the word hemophiliacs, so he had to skip that word. He assumed that it meant the same as blood drinkers, and moved on. After reading a little about them, he tried to skip to the section regarding cures. “Pleasebepainlesspleasebepainless-“

Right on that page, he found an answer that he didn’t want.

“Cure unknown.”

Looking over illustrations with diagrams, he saw many “cures” that seemed more like mercy killings than a cure. Stake through the heart, holy symbols, holy water, silver, even just the harmless weakness of obsessively counting small items like beans that got spilled on the ground… “not sure how THAT’S exclusive to vampires…”

Okay, so there’s no cure that involved the vampire actually LIVING! Was it because it wasn’t a sickness? Curing something that wasn’t even a disease was against all science that he knew, but- …science.

~~~~~~~

After several attempts, Paper had to give up for the night. He was still not ready to give up, but more than anything, he needed sleep. He placed his toolkit (which Pencil helped him buy a month ago) on his desk and carefully hid his blueprints (if you could call them that) so that his roommates wouldn’t find out anything suspicious about his current or future state.

“And I was SO CLOSE TOO…” Look, you definitely have work tomorrow, and your sleep deprivation will make things worse if left unchecked, so for the sake of you AND YOUR FRIENDS, just go to bed! At this point, he had no choice. He NEEDED sleep. Warily, Paper finally completed his nightly rituals to the best of his ability and climbed into bed. Right away, he tried to dream of something to distract himself from his condition, but to no avail.

Daylight came sooner than he thought, but he didn’t feel tired at all. Rock and Scissors appeared to be preparing to go somewhere, but they didn’t look happy… or sad… or any emotion that he could recognize.

“Where are you going?”

“To a funeral,” Rock answered without expression, “remember?” While his face didn’t show any emotion, his voice was quizzical, as if he knew exactly what was happening even though Paper didn’t.

“We told you eleven times,” Scissors added, expression unchanged except for a lift of one eyebrow. Once again, Paper was unsure about this. What funeral? As they walked outside and got into the Susan, he started to wonder what was happening. Everyone he knew and cared about was fine, so who was it for? Almost right after they got in, they got out about a minute later.

“Short trip,” Paper thought. As soon as they got out, they started to walk towards the exact center of the cemetery and stopped. Rock and Scissors still showed no emotion. Paper couldn’t see any name on the epitaph, and he was starting to become extremely paranoid. “I know this is a funeral, but WHY are you two showing such little emotion? And why are we the only ones? Wh-whose funeral is this ANYWAY?”

“Oh, Paper, don’t you remember?” His roommates turned to face him, but they looked… blank. Hollow. GHOSTLY. He could see right through them, and they were looking right through HIM. “It’s ours.”

~~~~~~~

Almost immediately, Paper woke up with a start.

“It… it was a dream?!” He looked at the clock. 5:00 AM. He was awake much earlier than he needed to be, but he didn’t feel tired anymore? How? Either way, he probably had to get up and get ready, so with one wing, he reached for- …WING?!

“WHAT THE HECK?!” He immediately tried to run to the nearest mirror, but that was kinda difficult because he was kind of… bat-sized at the time. He was stuck in his own room, physically a small bat. “This is bad. This is really bad! I’m… probably still dreaming! Wake up! Wake up!” Desperately, he kept looking to whatever reflective surface he had at the time and tried to get himself to look at it.

“Okay. Not dreaming anymore. Actually a bat.” His new form, about the exact height of the toolbox that Pencil helped him buy, wasn’t as intimidating as he was expecting, but it still scared him! None of the adventures that he’s been on with Rock or Scissors involved vampires, or bats, OR vampire bats.

The little bat in his reflection had messy eggshell fur and a puppylike snout with the nose extended into a leaf shape, and the triangular ears were folded down from the genuine fear in his expression, but as he looked in curiosity, they perked up. There was still a glint of red in his eyes, even behind his (non-prescription) glasses, and his newfound fangs were still prominent, but what caught him off guard was the markings on his wings.

Upon his wings, the dark gray membranes were contrasted by the reddish markings. The markings consisted of a stripe just above the bottom of the wings, with sparse dots surrounding eye-shaped ruby red markings, a gradient to black right where membrane met bone. There was no denying it anymore.

“Maybe I am a-“

“Paper, it’s five in the morning! Be QUIET!”

“Shoot! I forgot about my roommates!” Paper had to think fast. If his friends saw a bat in his bedroom, they’d more than likely suspect something. He had to hide, or at least try to convince them to leave him be. “I’m fine, everything is fine! Please don’t come into my room!” But these warnings were either ignored or misunderstood, because Scissors opened the door right away, as Rock started to look into the room as well.

“Is that…” Rock looked at the little bat in confusion, and gasped once he realized that it was in Paper’s room. Don’t find out, don’t find out… “…that bat is…” no no no no no! “…SO CUTE AND FLUFFY!” Huh? Paper was confused, but at least his friends didn’t suspect him to be the fluffy little bat. “Oh, Paper’s gotta see this little cutie pie!”

“Wh-no! I’M Paper! It’s me! I’m the bat! Listen! You need to-“ as Paper kept ranting and raving to his roommates, they couldn’t understand a thing he was saying. As far as they could tell, the little bat was just squeaking and squeaking. “…and you can’t understand a word I’m saying, can you?”

“Oh man, Paper has GOT to see this.” The little bat put his face in his wings and squeaked-screamed again. Scissors finally turned off the camera on his phone (he was recording the bat the whole time) and looked towards Paper’s bed… which was empty? “Wait, where IS Paper? Paper, you gotta see this! There’s a weird bat in your room!”

This was his chance. He desperately tried to get off the ground with his own leathery wings, but needless to say, he didn’t cover any distance at the time. Then he remembered: the movie was scientifically accurate, and he noticed that the bats had to drop down before flying rather than taking off the ground.

That was why they hung from the ceiling.

“If I could just…” as soon as he got to the windowsill, he desperately climbed up and tried to jump out. At last, he was right at the edge, and all that was left was a leap of faith. Calmly, he remembered everything he’s been through with his friends, and tried to remember what he could do.

Skydiving… that was familiar to him, and at the size of a small bat, it felt exactly like he was hundreds of miles from the ground rather than three stories. Still, he remembered the confidence Scissors had in that context when he was trying to come up with a good story for the weekend. Gracefully, every wingbeat became faster, and soon, the ground was in sight.

“Now to become me again…” Easier said than done, as he soon found out. He frantically tried to get into the right mindset, hoping that he would feel more like himself, but the tension was almost too much for him. Desperately, he tried to relay ideas to himself, but he couldn’t focus! He needed to-

…he needed to calm down.

“Alright…” as he relaxed himself, he remembered everything positive in his life… okay, not a lot of positives, but the one thing that made it all okay was… his friends. “I am calm. I am cool. Everything… is…” all in an instance, he poofed back into himself. “…okay, I didn’t actually think that would work.”

~~~~~~~

“Paper! There you are!”

As Paper walked back upstairs and straight into his apartment, he adjusted his glasses to keep them from knowing that he almost lost them as a bat. But how DID he become a bat? Was he actually a vampire now? He didn’t feel like one…

“Where WERE you? There was a bat in your room!”

“Oh, was there? That’s… interesting.” He didn’t think he would be in the form of the only flying mammal species at any point in his life… well, there was the lizard-bison incident during the prank war, but that didn’t count!

“It was SOOOOOO CUTE AND FLUFFY!” Rock seemed enamored at the thought of the little bat… I guess I did look kinda cute like that… what am I saying? “Too bad it left. But I got it on video!”

“You did what now?” And as Rock said, the video of the tiny ivory bat was shown to Paper. He heard everything that he said, but from his experience, his roommates couldn’t. Why? How? “Oh, my gosh! What was THAT doing in my room?” The potential vampire just hoped that the two friends he trusted his entire life would not catch on…

“Welp, I’m going back to bed,” added Scissors, who was already headed to his room.

“Scissors is right, don’t you have work tomorrow?” Rock was already helping Paper remake his bed. “You should get sleep…” Paper thought to himself. If he was a vampire, he was not a very good one- his best friends were already noticing his new little quirks! Either way, he did need sleep.

“G’night, guys…”

[drivestraight]

do you have any bits of the carcar fic where lando outright confronted them?

so a fun fact. i've literally had scenes for lando asking oscar about it point-blank in like, each chapter, but it just never felt right, so i kept delaying and delaying the "reveal" to the point where it never happened. i'm still trying to figure out what to do about it, but here's several variations i came up with:

lando doesn't really "find out" in this one, but here is them talking about it a little bit:

I’ve been meaning to ask. What’s with the ring?

Huh?

It’s the same one Carlos has. Max and Charles too.

Charles?

Yeah. Just like yours.

What is it, are you all in some cool secret club?

It’s just a ring.

(but that's more about lestappen than anything)

/

there was also this deleted scene post-austin:

“Soooooo,” Lando sing-songs, wiggling his eyebrows, leaning across the backseat to nuzzle his shoulder into Oscar’s like a cat in heat. “You and Carlos?”

Oscar rolls his eyes. “Nothing happened,” he mumbles, cheeks a little hot. He stays completely still.

He and Lando are staying in the states for an extra day to shoot more media content and attend some events for McLaren’s American sponsors. They’re being driven to their next filming site.

“Yeah?” Lando hums, finally returning into his own space. Still, he tilts his head to the side, and says, “He calls me at the club to ask for your hotel info, he stays the night, I catch you two sneaking out of your suite in flagrance delicious—”

“What?” 

Lando flushes. “Like, you know… the Latin thing. Red hands. I read it somewhere.”

Oscar blinks and asks, “You read?”

Lando’s brows furrow and he shakes his head. “Never mind. But, you know—evidence’s pretty damning, I’d say. He was wearing your clothes, Osc.”

Oscar purses his lips. “He didn’t want to put on his dirty clothes from the club in the morning.”

Lando grins, wiggles his eyebrows again, and does a weird shimmy with his shoulders. Totally unfitting for someone with a goatee. “So he took his clothes off at some point?”

Oscar groans and winces.

Technically, nothing Lando has said has been false. They woke up around the same time, and Oscar let Carlos take a shower. During that time, Oscar haphazardly cleaned up, embarrassed at the state of the bedroom, all his clothes and things scattered everywhere. He hadn’t exactly been expecting company last night. Once Carlos came out, Oscar tried not to stare, tried not to feed Carlos’ already enormous ego. Carlos, with just a towel wrapped around his waist, hair damp and dripping, dewy skin glistening with shower water, rivulets tracing his collarbones and the space between his pecs. With great effort, he tried, but his mouth, maybe, did something weird, because Carlos started smirking. Oscar scowled in response and told him to put clothes on. Carlos then asked if he could borrow any clean, unbranded clothes, since he didn’t want to risk being caught leaving a different hotel, wearing the same clothes as the night before. Oscar found a clean set of clothes from his suitcase, threw it at Carlos’ head, and stared at his phone, scrolling uselessly through Twitter, as Carlos got dressed.

Since Carlos had taken an Uber from the Rose Room to the Hilton last night, Oscar offered to drive him to The W. They tried to hurry out of Oscar’s suite, so that they wouldn’t be seen, but they happened to run into Lando as he was heading for breakfast. Thankfully, he’d kept the majority of his teasing aimed at Carlos. Cradle robbing, are ya? My teammate, no less? Carlos put Lando into a chokehold, and they 

“It’s not like that,” Oscar mumbles, staring at his hands in his lap, how sunshine reflects off his silver ring.

“What’s it like, then?”

(but i didn't really like it so i tried to rewrite it:)

/

the re-written scene:

“Wild night?” Lando asks.

“Er,” Oscar says. “Honestly, yeah.”

Lando waggles his brows, smirking. “Kim tells me you didn’t get back until this morning.”

Oscar scowls. “Now what are you doing talking to my trainer?”

Lando shrugs. “Saw him in the lobby on my way to breakfast,” he explains, then raises a single brow. “Soooo, where were you?”

Oscar doesn’t see a point in lying about it. “Erm,” he says, stalling, before he reveals, “I slept over at Carlos’.”

Lando blinks rapidly. “You what, mate?”

Oscar knows how that sounds, so he hurries to clarify. “It’s not like—I mean. It was just—you know.” He cringes. He isn’t doing a great job at explaining this. “Max just dumped me in Carlos’ suite, cuz Charles was next door. Like, you know…” he rambles. “I slept on the couch and shit.”

“Oh,” Lando says, smirking, “you’re blushing.”

Oscar frowns, curling his thumb under his other fingers, nervous. “It’s not like that.” It isn’t technically a lie.

“Relax. I know you two can’t stand each other.”

“How’d that work out?”

“Surprisingly fine. He drove me back in the morning.”

“He didn’t make you do a walk of shame?”

“You know I’m just teasing, right?”

“I know.”

“But if you, you know. Like, if you guys are—”

“We’re not.”

“I’m just saying, if you are, that’s fine with me. Wouldn’t be the first I’ve heard of it.”

“I’m just surprised. I thought you two couldn’t stand each other.”

Oscar shakes his head. “It was never like that.”

“I don’t get you. You’re always saying that it’s not like that. What’s it like, then?”

“I don’t know.”

For a long moment, Lando stares at him, like he’s trying to find something. Oscar doesn’t think there’s anything there, anything to find. Eventually, he sighs and leans back into his seat. “Y’know, I don’t get you two.”

At that, Oscar laughs. “Mate, neither do I.”

(which i also didn't like)

/

and THEN chapter 6 was actually supposed to be lando's birthday dinner in vegas, in which carcar hookup in the bathroom and lando dramatically walks into the bathroom and is like. Guys wtf. but as fun as that would've been, it just didn't really make much sense/feel right/was a little too silly. and i wasn't that into it as i was writing it tbh.

RIP lando's role just kept getting cut and cut 😭😭😭 sorry baby i'll try to feature you more in pt2

[lunar-years]

i think i remember you mentioned how jamie’s love confession to keeley had nothing to do with how he felt about her romantically and i’d love to hear more of your thoughts on it. jamie’s so strange throughout the ep, and considering it’s right after the man city confrontation with his father, it’s probably not too far of a stretch to say he’s thinking about his own father’s death and having a bit of an existential crisis himself. i think jamiekeeley is cute btw and i’m all for ot3 roykeeleyjamie! just wanted to pick your brain about this. and apologies if you’ve never posted about this and i’m remembering the wrong user

Hi! I’m pretty sure this wasn’t me who said it (but never say never because I sure say a lot on here, lol). However you might have still seen it on my blog, because I think I responded to an ask recently with the same opinion!

Regardless, my personal view on it is that Jamie was definitely speaking romantically, BUT I’ve seen a bunch of people think otherwise and it’s fun to explore different viewpoints so I'm gonna talk about my opinions on the funeral episode anyway lmao :)

I think the funeral is soooo interesting because Jamie AND Roy AND Keeley are all acting kind of strangely. Even when we figure how why Roy is being so odd (Grandad Emotions), but there's still whatever is going on between Jamie and Keeley. Because like, yeah, Jamie definitely should’ve 1) realized his boss' father's funeral wasn’t the time nor place for love confessions and 2) probably not done it regardless because, yes, it is kind of out of pocket to tell your ex-girlfriend you’re still in love with her when she’s currently dating someone else (who just so happens to be your current football coach who just helped you during a very traumatic experience)…like ohhh Jamie. Messy!! But I love mess. So therefore I did love this. 🤷‍♀️ However…the topic is not necessarily as ~coming up out of nowhere~ as it first seems, I think. Importantly, Keeley is also acting weirdly!!

I was staring at this gifset recently and thinking many a Keeley thought, and to be honest I think feelings and big emotions were being stirred up again on BOTH sides at that event. It’s interesting (and I think rings true to other insights we've gotten into her character) that as soon as things get a little dicey with Roy, Keeley starts looking outside her relationship, either for people to confide in (as she does when she tells everyone but Roy about the problems she’s having with Roy in Headspace) or to reflect on what she no longer has but is suddenly wondering if she might miss and possibly still want (her contemplative looks at Jamie at the funeral, “you look nice Jamie” etc…. Maybe this is an unpopular take, but I think Keeley is also feeling some type of way that day, about Jamie in particular. And yeah I definitely think that has an impact on why Jamie chooses then to confess to her. He's sensing a different vibe between them suddenly and is reminded, I need to do this.

The other reasons in Jamie’s head imo are 1) Jamie is just generally very open about most of his feelings and I think he’s coming at it from, a 'you should tell the people you love that you love them!' place, right or wrong 2) as he later tells Roy, the funeral made him uncomfy!! and AS YOU SAY yeah i do think there's definitely an connection between that and his dad abusing him in front of the whole team, which has just happened very recently. PERHAPS he is already Not Doing Great, and watching his boss who he doesn't really know act Weird during the eulogy for her Dead Father has him extra off-kilter. 3) as we learn in s3... his dad disappeared after Wembley. No calls, no texts. Nothing. Now, we don't have categoric evidence that this is unusual, but to ME James Sr. doesn't seem like someone who typically leaves well enough alone. I can definitely see Jamie still being freaked out over this very big thing that happened that his dad has got to be incredibly angry about. Perhaps there is still a part of him very much waiting for the other shoe to drop! Which is to say, I do think you're right that there's an element of existential crisis going on here.

Also, while I do personally think Jamie's confession is romantic in nature, I do not think it is conditional in intent. Jamie isn't telling her with the expectation that she's going to dump Roy immediately and tell him that oh yeah, she loves him too. Like, Jamie isn't an idiot. I think he does at the heart of it just want to thank her and he's been meaning to thank her for a while because she means SO MUCH TO HIM that it all has to come spilling out as some point. And a part of that love is romantic, yes, but he also loves her in so many ways. I think Jamie is perfectly content to put it out there and let her set the terms of their future friendship/relationship. Most important to him is that she knows.

So anyway, sorry this got so long and that it isn't really what your original question was about (for anyone who thinks the confession wasn't about Jamie loving her romantically, please feel free to chime in/reblog and add your thoughts!) but in summation, I think: Roy being upset about other things (Grandad) causes him to stir a fight with Keeley -> The fight with Roy causes Keeley to re-evaluate some things and part of her focus undeniably lands on Jamie -> Jamie senses something has changed between him and Keeley and because of that, in addition to the lingering aftershocks of a recent very traumatic experience, confesses he's still in love with her at a funeral.

Which is to say, as I DO always say here at lunar-years, these three's stories have always been irrevocably intertwined since the beginning (regardless of the ot3 as a ship) and the funeral is another example of that. Also it is totally crazy that we never get an explicit follow-up to Man City until episode 11 of the NEXT SEASON and that is one of my biggest grievances on season 2.