#for once I don't hate it though I screwed up

[deluweil]

Here's the thing, I have nothing against Lou/Tommy, but the accessive enthusiasm of him returning and everyone already talking about him showing up for next season,

Which if any of you watched for the last 7 seasons, it is very possible because writers love to drag temps over to the next seasons because apparently breakups are for season beginners, mostly (except for taylor),

is very off-putting.

1. Because the dude literally just showed up and they haven't even had one worthy make out session to even call it a situationship.

2. Buck hurt Eddie physically to get into Tommy's mouth and pants, which ruined it for me from the start tbh and Tommy had nothing to do with it, he was just there.

3. Buck has made Maddie's day, his coming out party - that is a big NO in my book. Because one, dude you literally came out, what if you decide eventually that you don't want this or don't want this with this specific first-guy-ever anymore? And two SHE IS YOUR SISTER THE LEAST YOU CAN DO IS HAVE HER LEAVE ON HER HONEYMOON BEFORE YOU KILL YOUR PARENTS OF A HEART- ATTACK.

Even if they "seem accepting" to Buck’s face, this takes time to process, something better revealed in time and in private, once one is sure. Not thinking and talking about this the whole wedding!

And yes, I know, Buck is impulsive, but think for a second, would you want your baby brother to hijacke your wedding after so long of planning it? I know I would have killed him.

Would have told him in advance that if he's bringing his new boyfriend to my wedding, he better tell our parents first. Because this is my fucking day!

I love Buck, but his self-centered personality rubs me the wrong way this season.

Maybe because I wanted to see him growing the fuck up after 7 years and so many traumas and experiences and therapy that he went through, but nope, same old Buck, only instead of the dating the girl who gave him attention, he's seeing the guy who gave him attention.

It's annoying, it's off putting and frankly I am so mad at the writers and Tim for this because these characters deserved better.

And don't talk to me about representation because Shonda did the bi representation in Station 19 perfectly to the point that I was bummed that Travis and Eli didn't end up as endgame even though I loved Emmett with Travis.

Again somehow the 911 writers managed to taint for me what should have been and amazing experience, independent completely of buddie, but no they managed to not only mix Eddie and Buck with Tommy, the whole thing came at the expense of Eddie, physically and mentally, because not only did Buck not apologized to Eddie, Eddie also lost his new friend who now fawns over Buck.

So screw this storyline, I hate it and I hate how everyone is OK with everything that happened in the story, just because Buck is doing a dude(kissing really, there was no doing yet).

There's a lot of blocking in my future, most are just ppl who either came in now because of bi Buck or those who came from other disappointing fandoms and are just here for the rep not the actual story.

But some of us have been here since S1, we want the rep, but we want it to be complimenting, we want to fall in love with the character before it turns into a LI, we want the emotion, the connection, the obvious love building over several years.

Like Casey and Gabby and Severide and Stella, like Maya and Carina, like Travis and Emmett (even though I liked Eli better for him) like Sullivan and Natasha.

I want an emotional payout, give up the surprises, and the wrecked trucks and ships, just tell a good story!

And for the love of all that's holy, enough with the last-minute changes, those never turn out well in the long run. They literally started from scratch when they made the switch between Eddie and Buck.

Also in my opinion, Eddie had a LOT more chemistry with Lou/Tommy than Buck. It would have made so much more sense, in the catholic guilt and internal homophobia department, the nun and supposedly commitment issues was weak at best.

It could have been epic. 😩

And yes, Buck could have started the season single, no harm in that, maybe make him, I don't know, actually growing into something that he would like without someone else to pet his ego? Go back to therapy, work for the LT. exams, be interim captain, realize his worth and learn to love himself for him, not because someone else gave him attention and that made him preen, get him somewhere worthy. Even lessons with Tommy without involving Eddie in this would have been great.

Just something that shows character development, because up until now all I get is S2/S3 Buck and I've seen that movie before, I want my money back.

I realize this is harsh, and normally, I would stick to the light and fun and ignore the rest, but this had to be said out loud so I can go back to that.

That being said, as I said, I will watch Madney wedding purely for Madney. Anything else is just a bonus. I can't wait for that bachelor party and see wth happens to Chimney.

Happy Monday, my loves. ❤️

[ervotica]

the ones we love (will destroy us)

pairing; aegon ii targaryen x fem!targaryen!reader

tags; twincest (lol i'm sorry yk what the targaryens are like), aegon is so sad and babygirl and an idiot, hurt/comfort

note; heavily reworked repost of an old fic that i adored writing but needed a lot of editing! (i still lowkey hate it tho)

“Why is Aegon staring at you?” Aemond asks, a cruel smirk cracking his perpetually stoic facade; the's mocking in the way his gaze falls between you and Aegon, not entirely genuine as he takes amusement in his older brother’s miserable pining. Aegon watches your discussion with Aemond, sour faced from across the dining table. You’ve taken it upon yourself to sit as far away from him as you can manage; and where you’re usually attached at the hip - though he knows you’re arguing - he can’t deny the ache in his chest from your lack of acknowledgement. You're cold, unflinching as you stare right through him as though he's irrelevant, as though he's worth nothing to you.

“Because he’s a twat,” you answer bluntly. Aemond barks out a short laugh, coarse and harsh, that penetrates the quiet chatter of the room. Heads start to turn towards your avid conversing with your younger brother.

“What are you two bickering about now?”

“If he thinks it’s funny to to speak ill of me to everyone in the seven fucking kingdoms, I don't want anything to do with him.” Your lips purse as you cross your arms; Alicent eyes you, watching the tick of your jaw and flare of your nostrils - you’re upset, even if you’re excellent at masking it. 

Aemond watches on amusedly as your twin grows increasingly agitated the more you pointedly avoid his glances. Your mother frowns.

“Y/n, don’t you feel you’re perhaps being a little hard on Aegon?” 

“No.”

“He's your twin brother!” she sighs, ever frustrated by your stubbornness and your twin’s lack of consideration for anybody’s feelings, even yours at times.

“He’s still a twat.”

Aegon huffs and rolls his eyes. 

You continue to only speak about him indirectly. When you turn to Jace, he grins.

“Jace,” you start, clasping your hands where they lay on the dining table in front of you, “If someone said that you were ‘an ugly whore with no friends’ - as he so eloquently put it - would you be upset?”

“He said that?” Jace's jaw falls slack. “Wait, no. He honestly said that about you?”

The table clatters, cutlery bouncing, and Aegon stands abruptly, face screwed up in that way it does when he’s about to cry.

“It wasn’t like that!”

“How else could you possibly have meant it?” You’re incredulous, covering your misery with spiteful words. You want to make him hurt, make him feel your pain, but run to him for comfort all at once.

“Not-”

“Gods, just be quiet,” you mutter. Your face is hot as you turn away and you feel your eyes prickling with the threat of an onslaught of tears. Aegon cringes, drawn tight and tense as though you share one body, as though he can feel the pain he’s putting you through. Your upset has always caused him real physical distress, from when you were tiny children and still to this day. Your voice lowers to a whisper. “You’re so mean.”

“Y/n-“

You’ve never seen him quite this distressed; his cheeks flush pink and ruddy and his eyes start to water and gloss over, not dissimilar to your own expression - though you’re much better at concealing your emotions. His nostrils flare the way they only do when he cries: the way they did when he sobbed in your arms for hours after your mother rejected his pleas for affection once again, the way he cried when you were ten years old and your father interrupted him every time he tried to speak. Your bottom lip trembles. 

“Please,” he croaks. Your brows knit and crease your forehead as your chest tightens; you bite the inside of your cheek with such force that you draw blood. 

You stand and the solid wooden dining chair thumps against the floor. Aegon mirrors your movements, rushing towards the exit in your wake.

Once you’ve left the presence of your family, the tears come hard and fast and unrelenting. They’re hot against your cheeks, damp as your hands shake to scrub them away, leaving only a tender sting and blooming heat in your touch’s wake.

“Please talk to me.” The door creaks shut and then Aegon’s voice cuts through the sounds of your sniffles; you spin on your heel and he surges towards you in a bout of energy, clasping one of your hands in both of his larger ones. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that about you, it was mean. And you should be angry with me. I miss you and I love you and I'll never, ever speak a cruel word against you again.”

“Did you mean it?” you ask; he lurches to latch himself to your body, anxious as though you’ll push him away at any given moment. His arms are tight and unmoving around your waist.

“No.” He shakes his head vehemently, “I don't know why I said it. I just wanted the others to respect me but shouldn’t have said such awful things. The only person I need is you.”

“What?”

“I don’t care about any of that now. None of it matters to me if you’re not by my side.” 

His body shudders when your arms close and tighten around his body and a sob looses from his throat. Your voice is thick as you murmur in his ear. 

“You hurt my feelings.” 

His head falls to the dip of your shoulder and he clings to you with a strength that you’re not unfamiliar with; it cracks your heart all the same.

“Please forgive me, sweetling. Please.” The velvet of your dress darkens in splotches where his tears fall. “I love you.”

You know he really is remorseful; the guilt eats at him until he can’t feel anything else, not until you’ve reconciled. He's always been the same, ever since you were six and he hit you in the face; you didn’t speak to him for four days and he cried with such vigour that he made himself sick.

“I love you,” you can’t help but whisper back. “But if you ever do something like that again, I won’t be so forgiving.”

He laughs wetly, an odd sound that gets caught in his chest as he presses further into your embrace. 

“Can I have a kiss?”

You hook a finger under his chin and tilt his damp face towards your own. His lips fill with air and push out into a pout. 

His muscles go soft and relax the second your lips mesh with his; your fingers tangle in the short hairs at the nape of his neck. He angles his head and deepens the kiss, licks into your mouth and murmurs something imperceptible. When you pull yourself away, he chases you, desperate to be close. 

“Love you,” he mumbles, plying you with damp, open mouthed kisses across your cheeks and neck. They leave glistening half moons in his wake. “I‘m so sorry.”

“I know,” you say, tucking your head in the hollow of his throat. “I forgive you, alright?”

A laboured breath forces its way out of his lungs when your arm wraps around his neck for a hug.

“I didn't like you sitting next to Aemond,” he sighs. You shush him, rubbing thumbs over his eyebrows and down his cheeks in unbridled affection. “I want you to sit next to me.”

“I always sit next to you,” you murmur. “I was upset, remember?”

“I know,” he whines. “but you’re mine.”

“Don’t be a baby,” you giggle. “I spend all of my time with you.”

He squeezes you tight then and buries his face in your hair. You grunt with the force of his weight.

“I missed you.”

[undercoverpena]

1. butterscotch orange

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter one of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.3k chapter warnings: [see masterlist for series warnings] meet cute, flirting. fluff. flirting in person and over <redacted>. frankie being a single!dad to a son. coffee date. an: it is finally here! this little thing has rotted me from the inside out and nothing brings me more joy than a romcom. so here we go. buckle in. all hail @secretelephanttattoo for the wondrous idea and support (seriously thank you, i know you know ily, but i don't think I've been this happy writing something in so long). a thank you to @thetriumphantpanda who i forced to read this when we had our sleepover, ily.

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics [winks]

IF I CAN DO IT, ANYONE CAN DO IT. ALL YOU NEED—

It rings, echoes through your skull.

Has been doing so the whole ride over—your groan doing nothing to dilute it, even as you kill the engine of your car and are welcomed with silence.

There’s an element of regret you feel thrumming in you since discovering that perky voice, her high-pitched excitement becoming the bane of your existence. Forever replaying in your head. Regardless of whether it is actually playing. It remains on a loop in your mind—all light and sweet—grating on you from the amount you’ve had to watch it, just to get to this stage.

Realistically, you know you shouldn’t hate the voice, because it has been helpful—in that effortlessly playful way that’s kind of begun to fuck you off.

But then, you’re not even sure if any voice would fare much better. Because you just don’t feel like it’s just that easy—so possible, all simple and quick to do.

Because DIY apparently isn't that trouble-free for you. The bandaids on your palm, fingers, and forearm are proof of it.

Yet, somehow you’re outside of a hardware store.

One that Google promises will have all you need and more. Not that you know what that is.

The only thing you do know is that it at least gives you another reason to focus on something other than the mountain of boxes that never end. The ones not unpacked. In the home that’s now only slowly beginning to feel more like yours, and not the people you purchased it from.

Eyes flicking over the front of the store, the clutter of things all left outside—in judging various shades of buckets and plastic garden chairs—before your eyes land on the door to Harold’s Hardware.

There’s no breeze, but the door moves ever so slightly. Sitting, slightly ajar, as though once—a long time ago—it fit in the frame perfectly, but now remained warped and unwilling to even try. Then there’s the glass, all smeared and sitting inside (what you assume) would have been a bright-white frame that’s slightly yellowed and has been adorned in scuffs, swinging in its layered overuse.

But, at least it’s visited, you think. Shoving open the door, a bell sounds in some distant corner, ringing, it almost muffled by the voice from the video continuing to play in the space between your ears—a to-do list, a handful of items required, listing themselves on a never-ending loop, the billionth play through since you’d woken up.

It’s so much bigger inside than you banked on. Jaw-ticking to the side, eyes marvelling at the floor-to-ceiling display and the array of things all living and existing under hanging signs that appear worn and peeling.

With each second, more and more of the charm comes to you.

That there’s a radio, crackling away, a song from decades gone by playing with difficulty, as an array of scents swirl, fighting themselves for your attention. But, two stand out, fresh-cut wood and lemon disinfectant. The latter you assume kills dirt but doesn’t make the floor tiles gleam in the way they once did. Scuff marks adorning well-walked paths. But the former, you gravitate more to, wish for it to fill your nose and remain with you long after your visit.

Adjusting the strap of your bag, you glance about again, almost fidgeting your feet in your shoes, before it dawns on you. Slams into you as you flick your gaze from sign to sign—

You haven’t got a clue about where to start.

Listing the things from memory—suddenly distant and difficult to find amongst the dooming overwhelm—as your feet begin moving of their own accord. Choosing an aisle, selecting it—all eeny-meeny-miny-mo.

Because better that, than standing aimless, lost. Watched on some flickering CCTV in the back where you assume the person who works here is.

Dragging your eyes, scanning them up and down, taking in the varying types of paint brushes, different thicknesses, different intentions. Moving from single purchase to grouped, to multi-packs, and landing finally on rollers before you’re turning, heading down an entirely different aisle.

The next isn’t any less overwhelming.

If anything, it’s more, because it’s at least more of what you needed.

Screws, bolts, fixings.

Your brain assessing, attempting to assemble whether a bolt is what you need, a screw or—

“You need a hand?”

It throws you off, the voice.

Cuts through your processing, through the low replays of the video (the ones only in your head) and the cracking radio which has moved into an advert for migraines.

It’s low, a slight gravel that he rids with a clear of his throat as you look over your shoulder, eyes sweeping over the owner of the voice, eventually turning to face him.

And fuck.

He’s broad, dressed in a deep green t-shirt under a tan apron—name badge scratched over, only leaving the lingering marks of a “here to help” and the fading logo you’d seen outside.

You don’t mean to gawk, but yet you do all the same.

Practically swallowing, attempting to whir your brain into gear as you take in the rest of him. The thick loose curls atop his head, the strong nose and the round-brown eyes. His moustache, the wiry facial hair across his chin he slowly begins to scrape at, as he remains waiting for a response.

“Screws.”

“You… you need screws?”

Nodding, you will your brain to work, to function. But, he’s just so—

Lifting his chin, he runs his thumb up and down the underside of his chin, waiting, waiting, until he smiles. “Do you know the kind?”

Think. Think. Fucking think.

And then you do. Somehow able to unspool some thoughts, find sentences. Beginning to explain, in barely-there pauses and animated hand gestures about your move, and your new lease of life, and this video you found and how you felt inspired by it to the point it had led you to order wood cut to size and tools from the internet, but screws, screws and this and that are all that you’d forgotten.

And, he listens. Sliding a hand over the sleeve of his sun-scorched tee as he does. Just nodding on occasion. Thin lines appear along his forehead at certain parts of the story, but nonetheless listening.

“Show me.”

“Show… you?”

Then he smiles. Soft, it slides up in a slow, almost cautious way, but then it’s at his eyes, touching, brushing itself there and sending sparks up into the darker brown flecks.

Licking his lips, he gestures, “The video.”

You do.

A quick shuffle in your pocket, a slide to unlock your phone and then your fingers are brushing his. They’re warm, his. That you can tell.

Heat radiating from them, slowly blanketing yours as his hand and yours cradle the phone like a newborn in an announcement photo.

From there, your chest tightens, more so when you meet his eyes, finding them watching you as intently as you wish to look at him, and it makes your heart stammer, skip—a full chaos of beats following before he’s holding your phone independently.

That’s when a new crisis calls. A new thought is all set to erode your mind.

Because your phone looks tiny in his hand.

The plastic case is almost dwarfed by him as he tips his chin, watching the video, occasionally tapping at the screen to skip ahead before he nods to himself, you all but busy trying not to choke on your own drool.

“I know what you need.”

“You do?”

A foolish question, all escaping without thought or rationale.

He just smiles, in a way that seems to settle your incoming anxiousness.

“I do.”

And he does.

A tilt of his head, his back turned to you, a brief thought crossing your brain at the sight but you quickly rid, and you’re following. Listening as he explains, as he points out things with his long, thick finger, as you nod, as though nothing lives in the space between both of your ears.

It isn’t until you’re back in your car that it hits you. Do you suddenly wish as your engine ignites and your car roars to life, that you had asked for his number—or better yet, his name.

It’s been days, and you’re still wondering if some part of you’d concocted him, made him up—thrown up an illusion of a man and exaggerated how good he looked.

The more you thought about him, the more insane it got. Even hearing yourself explain it to a friend made you question if you'd been dreaming. That maybe you’d let days mould him, shaping perfection in your consciousness.

It has more weight when you walk past the older man at the till, all white hair in a slick-back style and who tips his head and looks more what you’d expect from the decor of the place.

But a part, one fighting, scrapping for a moment to exist, still believes. Hopes.

Forcing your legs to wander down aisles you don’t need, pausing at each corner, desiring to be proven wrong. Hovering, hoping—half-wondering if it was essential that to make him appear, you had to look lost and hopeless—or whether that had just been a coincidence that first time.

With each up and down, you almost give up. Hope almost gone, erasing itself with each step, all but fading.

But there, in the centre of the paint aisle, speckled in dried flecks, it clinging in varying shades—a kaleidoscope dream on his jeans and worn t-shirt—is him. The man you haven't stopped thinking about.

"It's you."

"It's me," you grin, heat flooding your cheeks, growing up into your neck.

Arm lifting, hand brushing the back of his curls not housed in a cap, as he matches your grin. "New project?"

"Something like that."

His gaze doesn't waver, doesn't lessen, not as his grin slopes into a shy smile, before he wipes his hand on his jeans, offering it out. "Realised... I never... I'm Frankie, by the way."

You hand him your name, dropping an octave as you do—all unmeaning, entirely accidental—fingers sliding past his as you shake his hand.

“I don’t… you’ve not got your apron on.”

Glancing down, you find him grinning when he looks up, “Not my day today. Here on personal business.”

“Oh is…” squinting at the paint can in his hand, “Butterscotch Orange on a hit list or something?”

His lips slide into his cheek, a tooth-filled smirk. “Should be, it’s a right bitc—pain in the ass to sell.”

Rolling your lips, you trace your tongue across your teeth as you grin. “It’s no…” eyes squinting. “Mt Rainier Grey.”

His brow arches. “That your shade of choice?”

“I like it—don’t hate the orange though. So, maybe it’s not the paint, but the seller.”

Something twinkles in his eye, lips still cocked to one side, smirk still ever-present.

And it’s a challenge to drag your eyes to look at the floor, you shift your weight. Trying, and failing, to think of an excuse, to leave before it gets weird—before you become too much and ruin this nondescript thing. But, his throat clearing stops you. It forces your chin up. Barely just able to catch it, the whisper, how it’s almost said to the can in his hand than to you.

“You… doing anything right now?”

Shaking your head slowly, you bite your cheek as you grin. “Just talking to a man holding a paint can.”

Tapping his fingers along the top, lips rolling, “You fancy getting a coffee? With me?”

You have to bite your smile, out of fear you’ll show how practically beaming you are. Mouth opening, but he adds an addition of I don’t usually do this that makes your lips curl into a smirk.

“What? Invite random customers for coffee or accost them with paint you can’t sell?”

Biting his upper lip, he shakes his head, tucking a curl behind his ear as your eyes glance over at them. How they glisten under the yellow-fluorescent light.

Letting your heart dance like leaves in the wind. “I’d love to get coffee with you, Frankie.”

It’s nice, the coffee place.

Not a far walk, a few doors down. The charm of it coaxes you in with sounds of crunching beans and strong scents of varying levels of caffeine sliding over and relaxing your shoulders from your ears.

Because suddenly you’re nervous.

A slight shake to your bones, a twitch of your fingers.

“Let me get this.”

Smiling, you find him watching you, not caring to drag his eyes away when you catch him.

“Because you never do this or because you’re hoping to persuade me to buy your unsellable paint?”

Smirking, he traces his eyes over you, “Both.”

The corner of his mouth slides back into his cheek, a dimple appearing, deepening—one you want to brush over with your thumb the longer he keeps looking at you the way he does.

All dark eyes, beedy, but sparkling.

'Who's next?' breaks the spell. Shatters the magic. It forces you both to blink, to focus on the task at hand. Both orders said, whirring and crunching sounding as you admire the place, glaze over the menu until he’s nudging you.

With your order in hand and tucked away in the corner—the large window letting in light and warmth from the sun on your back—you try not to moan at the taste of your drink once it hits your tongue.

Because it’s good. Brilliant, practically everything.

To the point you have to bite back a thank you, one that you feel would be never-ending, a constant swirl of words landing on the circular table between the two of you. Nothing napkins and good conversation could soak up.

Because good coffee is always great, but knowing where to find it in an unknown place is something else.

Distantly, you hear him say your name, chin dipped, eyes focused, realising—in a flood of embarrassment—he’s been talking to you.

“Sorry?”

“I said, I’ve not seen you in the store before…”

Swallowing, you take a steadying breath.

“You don’t have to…”

But, you do all the same. You pour open small bits of truth, words falling, tumbling half-strung together as your history rolls out in a timeline in front of you both. How you’d bought a new place, that it’s a bit run down, seen better days—a determination to prove friends wrong by doing it yourself.

Foolish, you comment with a shake of your head, I know fuck all about decorating.

And he listens—to the fact you’re alone, not even a pet; he listens even as you talk about your work, all boring, not entirely interesting. The two of you simply lost in one another, surrounded by coffee mug swirls and the sounds of sizzling food, coffee shop noises and mumbling daytime talk as you ask him about work, about his love for orange shades.

And your eyes glance down at his phone, how it’s turned over—his all undivided attention given to you—yet your eyes linger on the phone case. The one with a drawing, likely in pencil, a man in a hat on a hill, a child next to him and a sun with a smile on its face.

“I… I have a kid. Luca—shared custody,” he says, nodding, tongue peeking out between his teeth, hands leaving the table and wiping back on his jeans in slow slides up and down. “He… he made it me.”

It’s the grin that makes your heart swell.

Makes your hand cup your mug a little tighter so you don’t offer it out to him to hold, a thing which feels so natural, no thought required. Except you don’t know his last name—barely know a thing about him.

Yet, your body practically leans forward as you mirror the smile—all soft, as another piece of a missing puzzle sliding into place.

“Does he like drawing?”

Laughing, his palm slides along his jaw. “Loves it.”

“How old?”

“Five—does that… does that bother you?”

“That you’re a dad?” He nods, and you lick your lips, you make sure to hold his gaze. “Not in the slightest.”

You smile, watching him mirror you this time. It rushes out, kissing across every bit of his face—a shyness soon fluttering over him before he clears his throat.

“So, you freelance? You like being your own boss?”

“Not especially, but it does mean I can work at night.”

Nodding, he slides his hand around the white porcelain, hand practically dwarfing the mug. It makes you want to ask him to hold things, to see if IKEA pencils or children’s eating utensils look more ridiculous than your iPhone and a regular coffee mug.

“Prefer the night?”

“I prefer the quiet of it... to think. It’s why… why I began trying to do something in the day, needed to still be busy.”

“Sitting still not an option, Rainier Gray?”

Shrugging, you smile. “Says you Butterscotch and your three tins of unsellable paint in the bed of your truck.”

“You got me there.”

“I just… like to be busy, and with the new house, no partner—commitments, I thought why not try a bit of DIY.”

Nodding, he lifts his mug, and takes a sip—eyes remaining fixed on you as he does, as though it buys him time, lets him think up an opinion, an assessment. It makes your skin warm, but for all the uncomfortable reasons, the panicking ones—parts of you beginning to catastrophise that you’ve said the wrong thing.

“Open up your Instagram.”

You stare, blinking.

“Trust me.”

And you do. With another fumble, another slide of your phone screen open, and you follow his instructions as you type in the spelling he gives you. When you click the page, it’s hard not to grin, to not have your face explode into a smile so large it cuts into your cheeks.

“I don’t like to sit still either,” Frankie adds, as though the thousand photos and videos, the tutorials and follower count don’t say that on their own.

You’ve fallen down a hole—willingly.

It cracked open the moment you’d sat on your couch, drink in hand, blanket half over your body.

The moment you’d begun your scroll, you discovered you couldn’t stop. Starting with the latest and moving back, until you realise you’d rather see the story in the way it happened.

Choosing a moment, almost nine months ago, before you work your way forward to the present.

You were cautious, more careful than needed, to not like anything too late—to not give away how deep into his page you’d gone. Even if you were in awe, a little proud—your cheeks a little warm and lips turned up into your cheek—as you saw in real-time his confidence grow. The way he’d look at the camera, began experimenting with angles, all in all being smoother, more happy.

You suppose that’s why you type a comment under one picture:

Is that butterscotch orange in the flesh? 🟠

Stalking me are you?

Getting some tips from Mr DIY himself.

I know you went back some months, Rainy.

How do you know that?

Because as soon as you commented that’s what I did. You looked nice at the beach.

Now who’s the stalker, Butterscotch.

Me. Clearly. I’m being very upfront about it.

Out of interest, do you tutor at all? Gives hands on help to beginner DIYers?

You genuinely asking or flirting?

Big-headed much?

I can help you with something if you need it.

I think I do.

Then I’m yours. Don’t worry, I promise to only snoop in your drawers when left alone.

Think we should get food first, show you what I’m thinking—make sure you’re up to the task.

You asking me on a date?

No. But if you keep showing off tools topless I’ll be tempted to ask you.

Knew you’d gone back further than a month.

FRANKIE’S INSTAGRAM 🌝

NEXT CHAPTER

an: you do not understand how giddy i am about this series. the chapters have flown out of me. i hope you enjoy it half as much as i'm enjoying writing it. see you soon xx

[userlando]

sweetener — oscar piastri

oscar piastri x fem!reader [4.2k] summary: you'd shown him a picture of a couple on a date, painting. it was an offhand comment from you, something along the lines of ‘I’d love to do that’ that oscar had apparently stored away in his mind. warnings: 18+ explicit smut & language, semi-public sex, cunnilingus. a/n: hellooo my loves, this was completely inspired by the mclaren painting video and I just couldn't resist writing it. it was time that oscar made his debut on my blog so hope you enjoy this. as always, don't be a ghost reader bc i'd love to hear your thoughts!! happy reading xx

Your boyfriend was a closeted romantic but not many people believed it. He was sarcastic, funny and way more intelligent than people gave him credit for and your friends had warned you of lovebombing when you first started dating.

They couldn’t believe that a man his age could be so sweet, doting on you from the start and planning your dates whereas, in the past, you’d handle everything, secretly wishing that the men on Tinder could - for once - plan nice dates that didn’t involve a couch, a movie and minimal dry conversation that lead nowhere.

It was on your fourth date, when Oscar had taken you for a fun night of mini golf that you realised that you’d quite literally struck gold. And when he’d wrapped his arms around you to help you put and kissed your cheek, you knew you were screwed.

Summer break had just begun but you were still swamped with work, sitting in online meetings until your back turned sore and Oscar kept his distance out of respect for exactly two days before he grew bored and restless. He had your full attention during nights, where you’d go for late night drives to get your usual soggy fries and milkshakes, but he saw how you were growing more and more agitated from work and he couldn’t have that.

It was a bit tricky to set up a picnic basket, packing everything up neatly for a drive out to a meadow he’d come across a few months ago. It was something he’d randomly planned - and scrolled through Pinterest for, and the look on your face was worth all the trouble and then some.

You’d cupped his face in your hands and pressed smacking kisses to his face in thanks, squealing in barely contained excitement as you skipped into your room to change out of your sweats. And when you’d emerged… Oscar had half a mind to throw the plans to the wind, restraining his urge to grab you by the hips and guide you back into the bedroom.

He couldn’t stop staring as you walked in front of him, watching the way your legs moved as you took large and calculated steps over the tall grass. You were surrounded by beautiful flowers and greenery, but his eyes were focused on you and the flowy dress you wore. The hem of it was kissing the tops of your thighs, beautiful and flattering on you but then again, everything you wore was. It must’ve been new, because Oscar would have definitely remembered a dress like that.

You turned your head to shoot him a smile over your shoulder that was brighter than the sun above and Oscar stumbled a little, causing you to giggle as you stuck your hand back for him to grab. The warmth of your palm made him squeeze it in his grasp, taking a few big strides to fall into step with you.

“This is beautiful.” You mused, voice laced with wonder and he was nodding, even though his eyes were trained on you.

“Yeah.” He murmured, sounding faraway and you shot him an amused glance that Oscar absolutely loved.

The furrowed brows and teasing tilt of his lips would be the death of him. He glanced up, scanning his eyes for a good place to spread out the blanket and he made a pleased sound in his throat when he spotted a hidden spot beneath a gigantic tree. It had plenty of shade and he thanked his lucky stars because he’d forgotten sunscreen and the sun was brutal today. He’d hate to see you get sunburnt. Although he never did mind rubbing you down with aloe.

Oscar cleared his throat when his mind started wandering, ridding himself of his thoughts as he steered the both of you to the spot under the tree. You followed him, humming a song quietly and he couldn’t help but smile at the serenity of it all.

You took a few moments to spread out the blanket, toeing off your shoes and settling down with a sigh. Oscar popped open the lid of the basket and reached inside for the bottle of Orangina and champagne.

“Ah, fuck.” He swore as he peered down into the basket, making you frown in concern.

“What?” You scooted closer, craning your neck to see what he was looking at.

“I forgot the glasses.” He looked up at you, giving you an apologetic smile that you were quick to wave off. “Sorry, love.”

“That’s fine.” You made grabby hands at the bottle, watching him pass it over with a laugh. “We’ll just have to share.”

You unscrewed the cork and took a sip of the cold juice while Oscar started unpacking the vast array of food. He’d really gone all out, picking out your favourite pastries and fruits and something about that made you very emotional. Oscar glanced up at you, stopping his movements when he noticed the shine in your eyes and your wobbly lip.

“Baby.” His voice made you look up, and he laughed when you smiled tearfully at him, like you were trying to reassure him that your tears were out of joy rather than sadness. Oscar cupped your cheek and pulled you forward for a kiss. “Why have you gone all teary on me?”

You gave a heavy sigh that made Oscar’s heart clench painfully in adoration. “It’s just… You’re so sweet to me. I love this. I love you.”

Oscar watched you scoot closer, pressing his face into your hair when you cuddled into his side. You smelled like flowers and he couldn’t resist burying his nose in your hair because that scent was absolutely intoxicating. It was everywhere at home. On the pillows, towels and blankets and it always pulled the same reaction from him.

Sometimes you’d pack his suitcases for him, not because he asked or demanded you, but because your heart was just that kind and you’d spritz your perfume on his clothes because you knew that he secretly loved that. And he did. Nothing made him feel more homesick and loved than when he flipped the lid of his suitcase open and was hit with your scent.

“I guess you’re gonna love me even more.” He said and that prompted you to look up, pulling away from his embrace slightly. The curious tilt of your eyebrows made him smile. “Here.”

He handed you the small container of washed and fresh strawberries before turning to his bag to rifle through it. You gave a laugh of surprise when you realised what he was pulling out, eyeing the paintbrushes and tubes of colours.

You couldn’t believe that he remembered. The one time you’d tilted your phone towards him when you were sat on the sofa, showing him a picture of a random couple painting during a date. It was an offhand comment from you, something along the lines of ‘I’d love to do that’ that Oscar had apparently stored away in his mind.

“I suck at painting.” He said and it made you laugh. “But I thought this could be fun.”

“Oscar!” You didn’t even know what to say, staring wide eyed and speechless at the things sitting between you before moving your eyes up to him.

His cheeks went pink, bashful smile stretching his lips and you got up on your knees to smack a kiss to his mouth that he laughed into.

“We’re going to outshine Monet.” You said determinedly, sitting back down and grabbing your canvas.

The evening went on as the both of you painted, not very well but it was fun and prompted several fits of laughter from the both of you as you took occasional peeks at your paintings.

One too many gulps of fizzy champagne later and sandwiches eaten, the both of you found yourselves almost done with your pieces. You were sitting cross legged, face pinched in concentration and Oscar couldn’t help but sneak a picture on his phone; finding the sight of you all too endearing. You had a little paint on your cheek that you weren’t aware of, lips slightly pursed and Oscar couldn’t for the life of him stop staring at your exposed thighs. Your dress had ridden up, giving him an amazing view of your legs and he had to physically flex his fingers to keep from grabbing at them.

He cleared his throat and looked away, glancing up at the sky squinting. The sun had found its way behind some very dark clouds and he silently cursed the weather app for giving him false information because it looked like it was definitely going to rain.

“I think it’s gonna rain.” He said, absentmindedly voicing his thoughts out loud and you looked at him before glancing up at the sky.

You scrunched your nose before your face transformed into a smile that made your boyfriend’s heart skip. He squirmed.

“That’s okay.” You said slowly and put down your brush. “Because I... Am done.”

“Let’s see it then.” He grinned at the way you grabbed both sides of your canvas, revealing the other side slowly.

The splash of colour was pretty and it wasn’t hard to make out what it was supposed to be. A beach with a colourful sky consisting of pink, orange and even subtle red. Oscar nodded his head, visibly impressed and you smiled.

“That’s gorgeous, I don’t even wanna show mine now.” He said and you frowned.

“But I wanna see it.” You said, pushing yourself up a little to strain your neck.

But Oscar was quick to hide his canvas close to his chest which made you pout.

“No, it’s hideous.” He laughed and you rolled your eyes.

“Oscar!” You whined and it almost made him cave.

You realised fairly quickly that he wasn’t going to concede, so you put your canvas down and crawled on all fours over to his side of the blanket. He leaned back, smiling at your giggles until you were on top of him; The awkward angle sending you both into a fit of laughter.

“Is that a duck?” Your voice went high with laughter and Oscar sucked his cheeks into his mouth when you grabbed his canvas and took a look at it. “It’s so cute!”

“It’s —“

“It even has lashes!” You squinted your eyes at it and Oscar frowned.

“That’s eyebrows.” He said and you looked up at him, an apologetic smile playing on your lips.

“Oh.” You sucked your bottom lip into your mouth in a poor attempt to hide your laughter, but Oscar raised his eyebrows in mock insult and it made it harder. “Sorry.”

He wanted to open his mouth and feign insult, but the way you were chewing on your lip made it very hard to concentrate and he found himself getting distracted easier than he’d like to admit. The shine your saliva left had him craning his neck to catch your lips in a kiss, revelling in your surprised moan that you breathed into his mouth.

You tasted of fizzy champagne and sweet fruits, Oscar licking into your mouth and it made you squirm in his lap. He kissed you until you were out of breath, grabbing your sides and rolling the both of you around until he was straddling you. The squeal that left your lips made you both laugh and it didn’t stop when he struggled to get his canvas out from between your chests to throw it to the side. You blinked up at him slowly, and it was like he was stuck in a trance.

The first drop on your forehead was almost comical, and you thought that maybe he’d accidentally drooled on you for a second. But Oscar glanced up with a frown, just in time for the skies to open up and begin drizzling. Luckily, you found yourselves under the tree and that’s what made it so easy to dismiss the rain, grabbing the collar of Oscar’s shirt to redirect his gaze back to you.

“We’re gonna get si—“ He was interrupted by your lips, a small mmpfh being punched out of his chest and you were quick to swallow the noise, kissing him until the pink in his cheeks deepened to a pretty shade of red and his lips were kissed raw.

You loved the way he looked after a make out, with the dark eyes and the smatter of colour on his cheeks. It drove you further to mess his hair up and have him grinding down into you.

He wasn’t doing it yet, hips carefully held above you so he wouldn’t crush you with his weight but you wanted it. Craved it, even.

The rush of water coming down from the sky turned the air damp, clamming your already heated skin up and making it sticky. You let your thighs fall open in an obvious invitation, one that Oscar was too happy to accept when he slotted his hips against yours; Successfully pressing your crotches together. The weight of him was delicious, sparking something hot in your body that had you wrapping your legs around him to keep him close. You felt your foot knock something over, but you were too preoccupied with the way his lips were wandering to actually care.

He kissed wetly down your jaw, sucking insistently on your sensitive skin under your earlobe. You keened, hips jumping up into his in an attempt to grind your centre against him and Oscar quickly met you halfway, the hard bulge of him setting fireworks off in your chest.

“Oscar, please.” You gasped when he bit your throat. He hummed in acknowledgement, low and breathless. “Need more.”

He detached his lips from your neck, glancing around as if he was keeping an eye out for someone and you took that moment to take in his face. The pout of his lips and the width of his neck that you were dying to mark up with your mouth. The sight of it always did things to you, so much so that there had been several occasions where you went a little overboard and sent him on his way to the paddock with a bruised up neck and a blush dancing on his cheeks. He never really protested though, so you didn’t stop.

“Out here?” He asked, looking down at you and you nodded shyly. “Really?”

You turned your head to stare off into the distance, thinking that there was no way anyone was frolicking anywhere near you in this weather. And if there were people around, it was almost impassible to spot the two of you with the way the rain was coming down incredibly heavy. It was hard to see past a few metres and the grass was high enough to hide you both from any prying eyes.

In the meantime your thoughts had calculated the very low risk of being caught, Oscar had begun his ascent up your thighs with his hands, pulling the hem of your dress up in the process. His eyes were fastened on you, wanting to catch every micro expression on your face the higher he went up.

Your mouth opened in a quiet exhale when his hands touched your clothed pussy, thighs trembling when his finger ran over the nub of your clit. Oscar’s heart was beating fast, emotion and adoration gripping his heart in a vice when you looked up at him through your lashes.

You hadn’t dated for that long, but he’d memorised every single expression on your face, along with their meaning. He prided himself in how well he could read you, and he felt just a little smug whenever you brought it up. There was always a bit of wonder in your eyes and surprise in your voice when he said something that you didn’t expect him to remember. Like you never had anyone in your life to pay close attention to you, or even care to and it made him sad because how could they not?

You had somehow managed to become his entire world in the span of a few months and he intended to keep you happier than the average person.

That’s why he didn’t wait to pull your panties to the side when you whispered a small plea, sounding a lot like please, fully zoned in on making you feel as good as possible.

“Oh, shit.” You swore and Oscar hid a smile by hanging his head to stare between your legs instead.

You never swore in daily conversation, but boy, did you turn into a sailor when he was between your thighs.

“My pretty girl.” He complimented you, voice quiet but loud enough to overpower the sound of the downpour.

You smiled shakily, lip wobbling in pure pleasure when he swiped his fingers between your slick folds to wet them. Oscar circled your clit a few times, pulling some moans from your lips and he kept his eyes on your shiny bottom lip as he located your hole and pushed a finger inside.

He groaned around an exhale at the tightness of you, your warmth enveloping his fingers beautifully as he tested the waters. He must’ve deemed you ready for a second digit, sliding it inside alongside the first and watching you squirm atop the blanket.

“God, your fingers.” You bit your lip when his thumb joined in, rubbing your clit just the way he knew you liked it. “Like magic.”

It took everything in your boyfriend not to smile proudly and puff his chest out. It always made him preen when you complimented him while you were lost in the moment, and he knew that a big part of him needed and wanted your validation.

Oscar listened to your whines and moans, bending his head down to press small and fleeting kisses to your clammy skin. Your chest was heaving as he kissed you between your breasts, feeling his own breathing go heavy when you arched your back and stuck your chest out. Like you wanted him to touch you there. And really, who was he to say no when you begged so prettily?

The neckline of your dress was thankfully very stretchy, allowing your boyfriend to pull the material down enough to expose your chest to his eyes. You weren't wearing a bra, something he’d noticed on the car ride over here when the AC had been blasting cold air and tightened your nipples. He hadn’t said anything then but his cock had stirred in interest at the sight.

He moaned almost depravingly when he got his mouth around your nipple, licking and sucking on it until your walls were clenching around his moving fingers. He gave the other the same treatment before deciding that he’d waited enough, moving down your body while his other unoccupied hand bunched up the fabric of your dress over your stomach.

You were dripping wet, slick sliding down his hands and presumably messing up the blanket underneath you and Oscar had to bring a hand down to squeeze around his cock. The sight of you under him with your legs bent and wide open was something he’d take a mental photo of, storing it away in his mind for his loneliest nights.

“Fuck,” he swore, shuffling further down so he was face to face with where you needed him the most. He gave you a sucking kiss on the inside of your thigh and you whined. “You smell so good, baby.”

That had you squirming self-consciously, bringing your hands up to hide your face. Your mouth opened against the palm of your hand when you felt his tongue swipe between his fingers messily, like he was tasting you and you bit down on your hand to stop the inevitable moan from tumbling out.

“Oscar.” You pleaded with him and the next swipe came almost immediately, like he didn’t want to keep you waiting.

Oscar was as talented as they came, when it came to his hands and how to use them. The way the both of you had learned each other’s bodies was admirable, and Oscar had really learnt it well. He knew what made you tick, what made you throw your head back and scream out blasphemous words that had him smirking.

It wasn’t a surprise, really, when he took you to newer highs in record speed. With the aid of his fingers and mouth, he managed to pull out your first orgasm that sent your head spinning right into the gutter. Your thighs closed around his head, turning your head to the sky as you cried out your climax.

Oscar withdrew his fingers from the tight grip of your pussy, but he didn’t stop licking gently as you slowly came down from your high. He kept his eyes on you, enjoying the tremble in your legs around him and the occasional hitch in your breath.

He couldn’t see your face, it being turned to the sky still, but he watched your throat bob before finally looking down at him with a dazed look on your face. Your body jerked when he tongued across your clit, hand shooting down to his hair to grip it loosely.

“That was…” You trailed off, still out of breath and tongue thick in your mouth but Oscar grinned like you’d handed him the stars and moon.

“Another one?” He asked, almost hopefully and you gave him a look of slight disbelief.

You laughed with a nod, trying not to flush warmth when he tilted his head back to wipe at his wet mouth with the back of his hand. He looked so casual, but the sight of it made your entire being turn fire hot. Even more so when he pressed a few absentminded kisses to your thighs before going right back in, working you with his tongue until the initial sensitivity faded off to the background and brought forth a second wave of pleasure.

Oscar’s jaw was starting to ache, but you were grasping at his hair and scratching his scalp so pleasantly that he couldn’t even bring himself to care. He needed you to come again, needed to taste more of you because he couldn’t have enough. So, he upped the ante and focused on your clit, laving his tongue over it and pursing his lips to suck it into his mouth.

He was almost disappointed when your moans started turning high pitched, thighs clenching tightly around his head because he wanted it to go on for longer. But he couldn’t be too sad about it when you sounded the way you did, so breathless and lost to the world.

There was no doubt that anyone could’ve heard you if it weren’t for the rain, the way you were moaning and cursing. It made Oscar smug, but also so fucking hard that he had to reach his hand down to fish himself out of his pants, almost moaning into your pussy when his hand closed around his length.

It really wouldn’t take long for him to come, already feeling sensitive to his touch as he jacked himself off.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You cussed suddenly in one drawn out breath, hips arching up into his mouth as you groaned out your second orgasm.

The hitches in your breaths as the orgasm rolled through you made Oscar squeeze himself and it was when you pushed his head off of you with your hand that he hurriedly sat up, getting so dizzy from the sudden movement that he almost went teetering to the side. You hadn’t realised that he was taking care of himself until you caught sight of his hand, peering at him through hooded eyelids as he groaned low in his throat and aimed between your legs, coming with a jump of his hips.

It made you clench around nothing. The sight of him throwing his head back, hair damp and floppy as he sucked air into his lungs. He gave off a full body shiver, sitting back on his heels with a deep sigh.

“That was new.” You said around a smile, making him look down at you. His cheeks went pink, smile a little shy and you grabbed his arm to pull him down so you could kiss his smiling mouth.

“I hope that was okay.” He whispered against your lips and you gave him a slow nod.

“More than okay.” You glanced down between you two, pulling a slight grimace at your soiled underwear. “Need to get those off though.”

Oscar laughed and sat up, reaching for tissues while you did your best to pull your panties down your legs. You let them drop to the side, cheeks warm at the sight of both your spend on the wet material.

“Do you reckon it’s better to wait the rain out?” Oscar asked casually as he pried your legs apart, gently cleaning you up.

You glanced around, noting that while it was still raining, it seemed to let up quite a bit and you figured that it wouldn’t take long before it ceased completely. It was a trek back to the car and you honestly didn’t think that your legs could work for the next half hour anyway.

Oscar threw away the soiled tissues and grabbed your legs, pulling you closer to him until you got the memo and moved to snuggle up into his side. He pulled you in, burying his face in your hair with a sated sigh.

“Probably best to wait it out.” You replied belatedly. “I don’t mind sitting here with you.”

Oscar hid a smile in your hair.

“Me neither.” He murmured against your temple.

He’d sit around here forever if it meant spending time with you.

[diazsdimples]

HC: Tommy has a cat who doesn't like many people, but she always demands cuddles from Buck.

Anon, you sparked a Thing™️

Tommy tells Buck he has a cat fairly early on in their relationship. She's his baby, as he calls her. He's had her since he came out to L.A, having adopted her from a shelter a few months into him working with the 118.

One of the first selfies Buck receives is of Tommy lying on his bed, and the cat curled up protectively on his chest. She's a tabby with a dusting of white around her nose that makes Buck wonder about her age. The way Tommy talks about her makes her sound like a kitten, fresh from the womb, but Buck suspects she's probably around 13-14 years old.

When Buck goes to Tommy's apartment for the first time, he warns him about her. Buck can tell Tommy's a little nervous with the way he keeps glancing back at the lounge as he talks, as if he's expecting the cat to give him some big lecture about bringing a boy home without her express permission.

"Now, don't take it personally if Luna ignores you. She hates pretty much everyone," Tommy says as he kisses Buck's cheek and drags him inside the apartment.

It's a nice place, pretty much exactly what Buck expected from his boyfriend (is that what they are now? Boyfriends?). It's full of trinkets from Tommy's life, but it isn't cluttered - a perfect mixture of clean and chaotic, exactly like Tommy himself.

Tommy keeps his hand on the small of Buck's back as he guides him through to the lounge. Buck likes the way Tommy touches him. It makes him feel safe, grounded, as though Tommy could catch him if he falls.

Tommy' s got a couch not too dissimilar to Eddie's, but a deep maroon rather than blue. And there, right in the middle and nestled among a mess of blankets that Tommy has clearly set up for her, lies the person (creature?) in Tommy's life that Buck has been the most anxious to meet.

Tommy makes a chirping noise with his lips and Luna's ears perk up. Slowly, as though her very bones are creaking, she untangles herself from the blankets and hops down from the couch with a quiet "brrrpp". She stretches deeply, ears flattening against her head and eyes screwing shut, and the look of pure bliss that crosses her face is enough to capture Buck's entire heart.

Buck looks at Tommy for guidance as Luna gingerly walks over to him and looks up at him with big, beseeching eyes.

"Go on," Tommy prompts, giving Buck a small nudge with his elbow. "Let her sniff your hand."

Buck crouches and stretches out his hand towards Luna, offering her the backs of his fingers.

"Hi Luna," he almost whispers as she eyes him suspiciously. "I'm Buck, your dad's - uh - friend."

Tommy scoffs from behind him. "I think we're well past the friend stage, Evan."

"I didn't know - I'm sorry - I'm your dad's boyfriend," he corrects, looking back up at Tommy with a raised eyebrow.

Tommy nods, looking pleased. "Much better."

Buck just about leaps out of his skin when a wet nose touches his hand, and he turns back to see that Luna's moved closer, and is sniffing his fingers with interest. He holds stock still, remembering Tommy's words about her crotchety temperament and not wanting to frighten her, lest she bite him, or worse, run away.

Luna continues her sniffing, tiny pink nose moving minutely as she inhales, and then, much to Buck's shock, she rubs her whole face against his hand, with what can only be described as a smug purr.

"I-" Buck begins, looking back at Tommy with wide eyes. Tommy himself looks a little stunned, clearly thrown by his cat's rare display of affection.

"Huh," he says, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at Buck and Luna with a deeply fond expression. "She's never done that before!"

Luna sits back on her haunches and gives a loud, croaky yowl, as though she's been a chain-smoker for most of her life. She nudges her head against Buck's hand and meows once again.

"I think she wants you to sit down," Tommy says, barely concealing his laughter at Buck's bewildered face. He takes Buck gently by the arm and gives him a quick kiss before directing him to the couch.

"I thought you said she hates everyone?" Buck questions, almost numbly as he allows Tommy to push him onto the plush cushions. The moment his ass has touched the couch, Luna leaps up beside him with a pleased chirp and climbs into his lap.

"She does," Tommy grins as he pulls out his phone, taking a quick snap of his extremely confused boyfriend and even more contented cat. "Clearly she has good taste."

Luna's purring is reaching volumes previously unknown to man, drowning out all other noise in the room as she begins to make biscuits against Buck's thigh. Her claws are sharp and needle-like, pricking into Buck's skin but he's too stunned to do anything more than mutely pet her silky fur.

"Wh-what do I do now?" Buck asks, looking at Tommy for guidance. He'd been expecting to possibly see a streak of Luna's fur as she raced across the apartment to hide under Tommy's bed - her favourite place apparently - but now here he is with a whole ass cat on his lap, one who apparently loves him and hates every other guest Tommy's ever had over, and Buck really has no clue where to go from here.

Tommy chuckles and reaches over to scratch behind Luna's ears before leaning forward and capturing Buck's lips in a soft kiss, his fingers gently caressing Buck's chin.

"Stay there, I'll go get us a beer," he says as he pulls away, and leaves Buck in the lounge with Luna. She's curled up completely in his lap now, tail tucked over her paws, and every so often she tilts her head up towards him, demanding scritches that he is more than happy to provide her with.

Tommy returns with two beers and hands one to Buck before flopping next to him on the couch, looping an arm around Buck's shoulders.

"I guess you've gotta stay forever now, Luna's not gonna let you leave," he jokes, and something twists in Buck's stomach, making him a little giddy.

He really likes Tommy - hell, he might even love the guy - but receiving the seal of approval from his cat is probably the biggest step in their relationship to date. Well, it really isn't but is sure feels like that. Like he's being welcomed into the family.

Buck sighs happily and rests his head against Tommy's shoulder, a small shiver rushing through him as Tommy noses his hairline, his lips brushing ever so gently against Buck's temple.

"Yeah, I guess I do."

[kissesforscars]

mentions of cheating, male!user, explicit content

You and Toji were aware that this was dangerous, much more than his bloody missions. But what on earth could deny the attraction you both had for each other? Being without him was painful, but being with him was painful too. And since you both are married to wonderful women, guilt is eating you alive.

He was sitting across from the table, his back leaning against the back of the chair, listening to his wife’s speech about her work day. His emerald green eyes shine at the dim yellow light of the restaurant. He was looking at her with those eyes like she was the only one in the place, like no one wasn't there, like you weren't there. Jealousy was the first thing you felt. Now your throat was burning like you ate lava, there were knots in your stomach, and the only thing you could do was grab the bottle of water on the table. How could he be so cruel by ignoring you all night?

It’s been a pretty while since both of you saw each other and ended up in a shared hotel room. You had to tell your wife that you had a business meeting that night. Yeah, you knew that you weren't a good person for cheating your wife with her friend’s husband. You told yourself countless times that this time would be the last, and you wouldn't let Toji touch you. But once his hands are all over your body, your mind will go blank, and you will forget every promise you made to yourself.

You felt your wife's hand caressing yours over the table; a cold chill made its way through your neck. Still, Toji didn't even look at you. Maybe he forgot everything you did; maybe he changed his mind; maybe he decided to save his marriage. Fuck, you needed something to clear your mind. Your thumb caressed your wife's hand, and you slowly stood up, whispering in her ear, "Sorry, darling, I'll come back a couple minutes later."

Next thing you know, you were in the men's bathroom, rolled sleeves up, and washing your face with cold water. You hated yourself, and you also hated him. If only you could go back to the first time you had that affair, you would refuse him. I wouldn't. No, of course you wouldn't, because you were too weak for him.

You tried to find excuses for your affair. Maybe it was all because of the feelings you surpassed in your past, throwing yourself into a marriage that you didn't want. Maybe it was all to hide your real identity—the fact that you liked men. A lump sat on your throat, your hands rubbing your face. And she was a perfect woman—your wife. She was beautiful, kind, and clever. She deserved better than you, but you already screwed everything up, right? "I hate this sh*t," you mumbled to yourself. At least you thought you were alone.

Till you felt cold and rough hands grabbing your sides from back, making you shiver in your place. "You hate what?" His voice brushes your ear like a dry winter night. You pressed your hands to your face more, like you wanted to disappear right there, right now. With a slow but firm motion, he turned your body to himself. "You hate what, Y/N?"

No, you shouldn't be doing this here. Your wife was waiting for you, and he was touching you again. You wanted to push him, but your body craved his touch more. You had to be a grown man and push him away. His one hand grabbed your hands and pulled them out of your face. "Talk to me," he said, drawing himself closer to you. "Come on, baby, you know you can't hide from me forever."

“Stop it,” you said, letting the words leave your mouth, even though you weren't sure that he heard you. Good for you; you could save your hands from his touch, something that leaves him confused. “Shit, Toji, don't fucking play with me." Your hand grabbed a clean paper towel, drying your face. The heart you carried on your chest was beating rapidly, hurting your rib cage.

He didn't say anything, but his eyes were drinking every inch of your face, like he wanted to know the things on your mind. His hand on your side tightened suddenly, and you felt him closer. The cologne he used filled your nostrils. Suddenly, his other hand was on your face, surprisingly gentle. The heat of his hand was making your cheek warmer. As his thumb brushed your jawline, you were thinking about what his intentions were. “Hey,” he whispered, his tobacco-smelling breath brushing your mouth. “Don't treat me like this. What the hell did I do wrong?"

Fuck, were you an idiot for letting him get under your skin like that? Yes. Did you enjoy the proximity you shared? Yes, again.

“Just,” your voice coming out like a whisper. There were a lot of things that you wanted to say to him. I missed you. I know it's wrong, but I missed the way you touched me. I missed the way you made me feel complete for once in my life, even if it's wrong. "Nothing; the job was exhausting; I've been dealing with another person lately,” you said, swallowing your words with a kiss from his lips.

Don't do this to me; you pleaded with yourself; he didn't hear a single word. His plump lips invited you to the kiss, like he was ready to eat you till your core if you just let him. You felt his nails digging into your skin above your clothes. With a helpless attempt, you pressed your hips back to keep your body away from him.

He didn't let you go away.

“Please,” he was the one with pleas this time, “I haven't touched you for weeks,” his voice sounding like a madman, like he was about to die if he didn't kiss you right there and right now. You are a smart man, Y/N; you can't get haunted so easily, right? Right?

But the next thing you knew was your hands, touching his chest and feeling his muscles over his shirt. Running up and down, caressing him with need, and climbing to his collar slowly. “Now, that's a good, sweet Y/N," he said, his large hands cupping your ass this time, squeezing it without feeling a tingle of shame. You felt him, a bulge he couldn't hide in his pants much more, pressing to your crotch. Dear God, you started talking to yourself again. If it's wrong, then why does it feel so good that he should be mine?

"Toji," a whimper, escaped your mouth between your kisses. “Stop it; they're waiting for us,” but did he even hear you? His teeth are taking a taste from your chin. “Let them wait." You could feel him smiling on your skin, the scar on his lip leaving a tingly sensation on you. “I'm busy with my favourite thing here."

[hsllfirescoopsreblogs]

•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•

「 ✦ frankie morales ✦ 」

╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all frankie morales stories i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some will have summaries if provided <3

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

► new beginnings by @endlessthxxghts

▻ Frankie’s daughter, Elena, gets enrolled into a new school for prodigal children. It’s going to be a new adjustment for Elena, but Frankie underestimates just how much life will change for him, too — especially after meeting you.

► do me yourself by @undercoverpena

▻ a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

► acts of service by @swiftispunk

▻ an unexpected admission leads frankie to make you an offer you can't refuse. this surely won't come with any consequences.

OR you've never had your pussy ate and your best friend frankie helps you out.

► stalemate by @joelscurls

▻ Frankie Morales is your best friend — until a drunken hookup tears you apart.

► pickup truck by @luxurychristmaspudding

▻ frankie hates your boyfriend. in fact, everybody does. but he’s willing to give him a chance. you’re his best friends, after all.

► twinkle by @ezrasbirdie

▻ when his daughter starts preschool, frankie needs a little help with after school care. enter you--and much to his dismay, frankie cannot stop thinking about you.

► bluffing season by @beskarandblasters

▻ Frankie Morales is your next door neighbor of the worst kind. To put it simply, you two can’t stand each other. But when his girlfriend breaks up with him right before the holidays he asks you to be his fake date for Christmas, not wanting to go home to his family single yet again. You reluctantly say yes and as you spend time with him you realize he’s not as terrible as you once thought.

► old house by @moralesispunk

▻ You and Frankie are staying in his childhood room

► table for two by @hellishjoel

▻ Tommy’s Diner is where dreams go to die and burnouts clock-in for work. Waitressing would be boring without the flirtatious distractions of line cook Frankie Morales.

► telltale heart by @astroboots

▻ Frankie failed a standard drug test, lost his pilot licence and disappeared for a month to Colombia while under suspension, and even though you decided to stay with him, you find yourself unable to forgive him.

► i wonder if you stopped his world like you did mine by @chronically-ghosted

▻ watching the woman he loves be with someone else is killing him, but for your sake, he manages. But when Benny's birthday loosens him up, he can't help but bear his soul over a phone call. Too bad you don't pick up and he's forced to leave the evidence in a voicemail.

► the blind dating show by @guess-my-next-obsession

► seven minutes in heaven by @tieronecrush

▻ it's your roommate ben miller's birthday and he's invited the special forces guys over and asked you to invite some of your friends. the night comes down to a throwback game of seven minutes in heaven. you've been into frankie for months, so when your name and frankie's are pulled together, you can't help but wonder what can happen in seven minutes? ( w/ benny, will, santi)

► @absurdthirst

▻ friendly competition

▾ Hanging out with your boys, shit talking turns to the idea of a friendly competition. Letting you decide who is the best a fucking. In order to give everyone a fair playing field, you are blindfolded and wearing ear protection so you don’t know which of the handsome ex-special forces is inside you. 

▻ bumpy road

▾ In order to stay on his team and keep his toxic ex in-laws from gaining custody of his daughter, Frankie does something crazy. He marries you, his friend. You need insurance and he needs someone to care for his daughter, ignoring how he feels about you until he ends up hurt on his deployment.

► shared breaths by @frenchiereading

▻ On the first day of school you meet single dad Frankie Morales and his daughter who is enrolled in your first grade class. As the year progresses, what started as parent-teacher conversations grow deeper, your encounters grow more frequent and feelings that you shouldn’t entertain for a student’s parent are becoming harder and harder to ignore.

► more hearts than mine by @joelsgreys

▻ Frankie promises you he’s not going anywhere.

► down the hall by @frannyzooey

•MASTERLIST

•PEDRO PASCAL CHARACTERS MASTERLIST

hopefully all links work, let me know if not <3

last updated april 25, 2024

[glowstick-cafe]

♡ATSV: Couple shenanigans♡

Genre: Fluff, Established relationship

Warnings: Reader is poc

Summary: Just some couple things that I'd imagine these little guys would do for their partner.

A/n: I stand by my headcanon that every single Spiderman in a relationship would absolutely melt for their partner, I don't care who they are.

_______________________________________

Hobie Brown

When you first met Hobie you thought he was quite intimidating. Now that you're practically dating the guy, you've come to realize that he just has a permanent resting bitch face and you love that for him, but from time to time you still get intimidated by him.

Like the time when he spaced out mid conversation to admire your face. "-And he just kept going on and on about his new motorcycle like, did I ask? I just wanted to buy some chips man, weird right?" Looking up to wait for your boyfriend's answer you were met with his blank stare, and his face resting in the palm of his hand. It only took you a minute for you to realize that your boyfriend wasn't in fact angry at you, it was just his face. "I admire your beautiful face and this is how you repay me?" He laughed, then placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

God forbid this boy show affection in public, the amount of begging it took to get him to hold your hand in public is something no one will be able to waterboard out of you.

"Hold my hand…" You whisper to him as to not bother the other people on the train. Hobie's face lightly scrunched up upon hearing your request. "We're almost home, we can cuddle there, and it's better than holding hands." He tried to bargain, but seeing your mood suddenly shift was enough to make him hold out his palms towards you, which you gladly took.

—

Pavitr Prabhakar

Pavitr is the type of boy to buy you flowers, there doesn't have to be a reason. If he feels like it(and that is most of the time) he'll just have them delivered, no matter where you are.

It was especially bad when you two had just started dating, once a week a different bouquet of flowers were being sent to you. One day when he turned up at your house with a bouquet of lavender flowers, which had felt like your last straw.

"I can't keep accepting your flowers…" You say apologetically, he tilts his head in confusion and worry. "O-Oh…I understand." He responds, and anxiously looks down at his feet.

"I don't have enough space in my house to keep them all, please chill out." You finished. Pavitr paused, then took a moment to laugh, "Ok love, I'll keep that in mind." He said with a smile. After that, the boy instead opted to help you make a garden, though you still do receive flowers from him every now and then.

Since Pavitr's hair is in a permanent swoop on his face, you find yourself unconsciously tucking away loose strands that obstructed his vision. The first time you did it he thought you were going in for a kiss, to which he ended up kissing your hand.

You still tease him about it to this day.

—

Gwen Stacy

Gonna be honest with you, people already thought you two were a couple way before you guys actually became one. Gwen told her band that you both were dating and they were confused as to what she was talking about.

"Wait…you guys weren’t a thing before?" Was the general consensus.

Gwen hated the rain, while you absolutely loved it. It would be hard to get to where you were going if it was raining, because she would often rather wait for the rain to stop than actually use an umbrella.

One day the stars aligned for you and water had begun pouring from the sky. Your girlfriend had the dismay of being over at your house when the sky decided to screw her over, "Wanna go play in the rain?" You asked even though you could see her grimace at the very thought.

"What are you, five? Besides, you'll get sick" Gwen reasoned. You then held her face in the palm of your hands, making her eyes focus on you. "You're the only girl I'd want to get sick with." You spoke, holding onto her hands and pulling her towards the door that leads to the outside. Gwen scoffed at your words, "As cute as that is, no."

"Guess you'll have to miss out." You say with a cheeky grin plastered to your face, you open the door and walk backwards into the open rain while making eye contact with your girlfriend.

Though she tried to pull you back inside, the cold air of the rain made her shudder. The rain droplets soaked your clothes but you couldn't be any happier. Gwen became very protective of you ever since you both lost Peter, so you getting sick would send the girl into a coma….but it was nice to see you happy for a change.

The blonde sighed and slowly walked into the rain to join you, she felt her clothes sticking to her skin as the rain poured. The girl joined you. "If we get sick, you're so dead!" Gwen yelled, but her voice sounded quite playful. You couldn't help but giggle and danced with her in the rain.

(You guys did end up getting sick)

—

Miles Morales

Being in a relationship with Miles was great, but ever since he transferred to that other school you could tell that he grew more tired. Rarely did both of your schedules ever line up to see each other, but that never stopped you from loving the guy.

So now when you had time to see him, it would just be a relaxing few hours of watching him draw until your parents texted you to come home.

Everything was great for the first few months of the same thing. In that time, you met some of his friends that he said were from his school, Gwen, Pavitr, and Hobie. "We only came over to see you!" Was their excuse to come by, when in actuality, you knew that they were only here to eat Mrs. Morales's food.

Today was spent like any other day when you decided to visit Miles, but something was different.

The both of you were going shopping! Well, you were the one actually doing the shopping, Miles just tagged along because he liked being around you any chance he got.

"Oh! What if we got matching cups?" You asked excitedly, holding up two glass cups with small Spiderman heads printed on them. Your boyfriend couldn't help but cringe at the sight of the cups.

Taking note of this, your excitement slowly diminished, "No matching cups?" You say, slightly disappointed.

Miles quickly looked panicked, "No, I like the matching cup! It's just…can't you pick a different design?" He tried explaining.

"I thought you liked Spiderman, he's super cute!-" You looked back at the glass cups with Spiderman's black suit. Miles paused, not sure if he should be jealous or happy.

"It's just that we haven't done anything together recently and I thought this could be a cute thing for us. Also, this Spiderman is my favorite…" You say in a somber tone, your voice sounding a bit heartbroken.

Miles knew you were trying to guilt trip him into letting you buy the glasses, how many times has he been letting you get away with this? No comment….

"But I- There is no way…"

Miles playfully glared at you and took the cups out of your hands to carry them to the check out, "Oh you suck! You need to stop doing that." Miles said playfully.

"Not my fault you have poor taste in tableware." You say as a smug grin makes its way to your face.

[rottenpumpkin13]

Sephiroth, Genesis, Angeal, and Zack take Wired’s Most Searched for Questions interview

How does it go?

Sephiroth

Is Sephiroth evil?

Sephiroth: Not yet.

Is Sephiroth gay?

*Sephiroth stares blankly at the camera with his mouth parted open*

Is Sephiroth left-handed?

Sephiroth: I'm ambidextrous, though I prefer using my left hand to write, eat and maneuver a sword.

Is Sephiroth part cat?

Sephiroth: Perhaps I would be happier if I were.

Why is Sephiroth shirtless?

Sephiroth: An excellent question.

Why is Sephiroth so attractive?

Sephiroth: I seem to have inherited my looks from my mother. She was very beautiful.

Where are Sephiroth's parents?

Sephiroth: Ah. I've tried looking this question up. It's ineffective and provides no answers.

Why does Sephiroth hate Genesis?

Sephiroth: That's absurd. I like Genesis very much. He's my best friend. He's a special person to me. If I were asked who my vest friend is, I would have to say Genesis.

Who is Sephiroth's best friend?

Sephiroth: Angeal! He's very dear to me. We have a good relationship and there is no one in the world who I like more than him.

Why does Sephiroth like pasta?

Sephiroth: I feel complete and whole when I eat it. I assume that's what being loved feels like.

Why is Sephiroth's hair long?

Sephiroth: Because it's not short.

Genesis

How old is Genesis?

Genesis: How dare you insinuate that I'm old.

Is Genesis gay?

Genesis: Hm. About 50%, sometimes it's 75%. It depends on the day and my mood.

Is Genesis shorter than Sephiroth?

Genesis, through gritted teeth. I am.

Why does Genesis like red?

Genesis: It's the most vibrant, eye-catching, attractive color of the rainbow. Like me.

Why does Genesis dye his hair red?

Genesis: Lies and falsehoods.

Why is Genesis obsessed with Loveless?

Genesis: And I'm expected to answer with one sentence? I need an hour at least to accurately describe how much it means to me.

Why is Genesis called Genesis?

Genesis: I'm sure Dr. Hollander was trying to be poetic.

Why is Genesis annoying?

Genesis: WHAT?

Why is Genesis shorter than Sephiroth?

Genesis: WHY DO YOU MEAN "WHY?"

Why does Genesis say his hair is red when it's brown?

Genesis: THAT'S IT. I'M LEAVING. SCREW THIS.

Angeal

Is Angeal related to Zack?

Angeal: Not blood related, but he's like my little brother. Don't tell him I said that though. He'll cry and hug me and then I'll be covered in Zack snot.

Is Angeal dating Sephiroth and Genesis?

Angeal: Simultaneously?? Dating one would be a nightmare on its own.

Why is Angeal so attractive?

*Angeal stares up at the camera blankly, blushing profusely*

Is Angeal single?

Angeal: Uhh...yeah.

Does Angeal have a girlfriend?

Angeal: No, I don't.

Why is Angeal single?

Angeal: Who's writing these? My mom??

Is Angeal dead?

Angeal: Only on the inside.

Is Angeal stronger than Sephiroth?

Angeal: I'm not sure. I can sit on him and he starts flailing and struggling though. That's very funny.

Is Angeal older than Sephiroth and Genesis?

Angeal: Believe it or not, I'm the middle child.

Does Angeal kill plants?

Angeal, tearing up: I—...No? Once...It was a sunflower. There's barely any sun in Midgard.... I learned that the hard way.

Zack

Is Zack alive?

Zack: Yeah I am! *finger guns*

Is Zack stronger than Sephiroth?

Zack: Not yet.

Why is Zack popular?

Zack: Uhhh.... because I'm a nice guy? At least I hope I am! I like to make friends, so maybe that's why.

Why is Zack called a puppy?

Zack: Because Angeal thought he was funny when he compared me to a puppy, so now the nickname stuck. I don't mind though! Although it'd be cool if I had a badass nickname like wolf. Or snake!

Why does Zack do squats?

Zack: Because it's fun! Plus, it's a great exercise. It strengthens your core and leg muscles. .....I also have a lot of energy and don't like being still for too long. It stresses me out.

Why is Zack so adorable?

Zack: Aww! Am I? That's just my natural charm.

Does Zack have ADHD?

Zack: The TV in my room is HD, yeah.

[ms-cartoon]

I've been coming across a bunch of Hazbin spoilers and decided "screw it" and found the leaks to the full episodes. (I don't care how sensitive you leak haters are about it)

Of course, as expected, this show is already turning out to be trashy as I would expect it to be. Little retcons here and there, shitty writing, some crappy and pathetic characters who already lost whatever mojo they had back in the pilot, voice-acting is bitter as it will always be, etc.

There are a lot of issues with just these two eps, but I'm just gonna point out the ones that got my attention the most.

WARNING: THERE ARE SPOILERS/ MENTIONS OF HARRASMENT AND ALL THE 18+ BS.

-- Charlie- "Once upon a time, there was a glowing city protected by golden gates, known as Heaven. It was ruled by beings of pure light. Angels that worshipped good and shielded all from evil."

I beg to differ since it's established already that angels from heaven are nothing but fakes and are evil as hell, probably proud of it. Exhibit A: Adam and Sera. Now if they were anything like Frollo (someone who believes they are doing good but are not) I might be okay with it. Like say, they only resort to extermination because they're from heaven, they feel it is their job, and they have to do it even though it's wrong. Instead, however, I assume they exterminate because they just like to do it and they're evil like that. They probably have a feeling that some sinners are still good people on the inside and just don't care.

-- Charlie: As the numbers of Hell grew, so did its power. Threatened by this,

Heaven made a truly heartless decision that every year, they would send down an army an extermination to ensure Hell and its sinners could never rise against them.

I hear with my little ear another retcon!!

In the pilot, the only reason why extermination was a thing was because of overpopulation in hell. Now they're saying heaven is exterminating sinners cuz they're threatened by the overgrowing power and they don't want to be rebelled by it?? I going to guess that they only made this change so they can force evil on heaven while making Lucifer the innocent one. This is exactly what they did with Stella in the HB series where it was brought up that things were okay between her and Stolas only for the second season to say Stella hated Stolas the whole time they were together and treated him badly just so the writers can tell us viewers that she's evil.

Is this gonna be a thing now?

-- Angel: I'll have the horniest sinners knockin these walls down to get in!

This body was made to be exploited!

Seriously, guys, this is the same pervert we're supposed to feel bad for BECAUSE he's being exploited!

And leave it to Angel to completely miss the point of this hotel. What they want is to convince sinners to REDEEM themselves. Banging them is not a way to go about it, bud!

-- My predictions about Angel being a sex joke are correct. I'm mean- they've always been correct, I'm just saying I had a feeling they were going to show it off more in the show.

-- Vaggie: "No, we can't force sinners to stay here. They need to choose to."

Angel Dust: "Well, I chose to stay here and I think it's all stupid."

No shit- The only reason why u agreed to stay is for the free rent. So don't go marking yourself as a good example.

-- I don't totally have a problem with this show being a musical as long as the timing is right. Charlie is so quick to tell Vaggie about a meeting she'll participate in and is excited about, but before Vaggie can even question it and talk to her, Charlie immediately starts singing without even hearing Vaggie out. They kinda rushed this musical number a little too quickly. Which only goes to show how fast-paced this episode is. It's always fast-pacing with these shows.

-- I have the sudden urge to jump inside this show and beat the ever-loving crap outta Angel if keeps on moaning and getting horny . . .

-- Angel continuously flirts and touches an obviously uncomfortable Husk and fans are going to look at this as "cute" while I look in annoyance and disgust. And once again, this is the same guy we're supposed to feel bad for because he has a pimp who inflicts the same actions that he does and fans will choose to ignore it.

-- Adam is practically the most irritating character in this series so far. I was right with what I said about him before. For someone who's supposed to be an angel he sure as hell doesn't act like it. The whole time he's on screen, he's just making jokes, ridiculing the hell out of Charlie, and not listening to her at all. Continuously cussing and talking about dicks??? He has the most cringiest dialogue ever and I had the urge to skip it every time he's on screen. Something tells me he and Lute should switch positions since she seems more professional.

-- Charlie: Sinners make mistakes, but everyone makes mistakes.

Charlie, I know where you're trying to get at sweetheart, but I really hope you don't include all the rapists, murderers, abusers, and pedophiles down below. Do you really think they qualify as someone who can be redeemed? If so, I would have to side with the angels here despite their antagonistic behavior. I would understand trying to rehab drug addicts, alcoholics, robbers, etc. but definitely not the former.

Now that I think about it, Charlie is kind of acting like Viv in this scenario where she tries to excuse these criminalistic behaviors most of her characters committed when they really don't deserve anything good happening to them. That's like trying to redeem Valentino for pimping and abusing Angel Dust. Do we really think Val is capable of redemption??

Sorry to burst your bubble Ms. Morningstar, but the angels are in the right here. Hell exists for a reason and people who do bad things and like to do bad things deserve to be there. I wouldn't bother trying to rehab sinners who don't deserve it or are not going to try to fix their behavior.

-- Lute: Angels don't make mistakes . . .

Then what does that say about Lucifer? He was an angel who caused some actions that you guys would count as mistakes therefore expelling him from heaven. You guys never even attempted to exterminate him yet.

-- I'm sorry, I don't like Brandon Rogers as Killjoy. It's literally just a demon version of one of his characters. It's nothing original like the pilot.

So that is what I think about the first episode. If I forget to mention something, i'll just edit the post. Won't be too long before I make some comments about the second one, but for now, the gist of everything is . . . it's bleh.

If you have any questions, feel free to ask me!!

[lunarw0rks]

I have a request for Ghost where 141 notices a change in Ghost when he can't wait to get home to a loved one but hasn't told anyone about her yet. They even notice that he smells different at times, has hairbands on his wrist, and is distracted more than usual and maybe even happier. Then they finally put the pieces together and maybe even find evidence that he does have a loved one, Thank you :))

『♡』 masterlist ♡ rules ♡ ask box Warning(s): nothing major, mild language, gn!s/o A/N: soap in this fic reminds me of this scene lmao. also, this is more headcanon/drabbles than a short fic, since those have been easier for me to write lately.

─── simon hated it, being in love with you. there was a point where his hyper-awarness had dwindled, leaving him lovesick and distracted. regardless, he's a solid lieutenant, hard and ruthless whenever necessary, but it's the little things.

♦ his street clothes don't just smell of tobacco and his natural musk. there's something else, too. your scent. the shampoo and fragrances that you use, are unmistakable to his co-workers.

♦ it wasn't until he was sitting still long enough to smell it, that he panicked. he had been nose-blind, too occupied with a busy day to notice it until now. this whole time, those who had stood next to him throughout the day smelled it too, no doubt.

─── but Simon had to stay calm, he told himself. he could do that, couldn't he? he's always stone-faced and stoic. should be a walk in the park... right? if he played his cards right, no one would notice, no one would tease him - no one would find out about you.

♦ well, that sentiment didn't last long at all...

♦ it went exactly how he pictured it. soap running his mouth, being chatty and persistent to get a rise out of him. and it worked.

♦ "if I were a detective, I'd say ya been caught red-handed, L.T." soap sneered, to simon's dismay. he hadn't said a word; all he was doing was sitting off to the side picturing coming home to you.

♦ the lieutenant replied, forcing his usual scowl. "go bother someone else, Sergeant. I've got no time for childish games." though, since meeting you, that expression had been more difficult to fake. perhaps it was how he bounced his knee anxiously, how he had his head back while daydreaming, or how he fiddled with his scarred fingers more than usual. simon had failed at being subtle, once again.

♦ soap wasn't going to give up that easily, naturally. "the crime of love. head over heels for someone, aren't you? fell so hard you knocked some sense into your hard head, didn't ye?"

♦ "watch yourself, johnny."

─── next, it wasn't just subtle clues to the lieutenant's dating status. it was cold, hard evidence. the gravest mistake he ever made; forgetting to take off one of the hair ties you handed him the day before. or, subconsciously, he kept it to keep a piece of you with him.

♦ no matter the root of the problem, he was screwed. he had officially gone soft... a little soft, at least.

♦ "ghost, you have yesterday's reports?" price asked, preoccupied with the mounds of work on his desk. simon nodded and reached into the bin on the top shelf, his hoodie sleeve rolling down his arm when he did so.

♦ in truth, price could care less about the dating status of his soldiers. all he cared about was that they were punctual and focused - but something about ghost having someone at home, it amused him.

♦ gaz, silently observed from afar, like always. he never spoke, unless spoken to. he was more shocked than anything. simon was never the type in his mind, let alone to be distracted and leave traces of the unknown lover. but, nonetheless, gaz didn't want to lose an eye, so he decided it best to keep his mouth shut.

♦ surprise, surprise.

♦ soap said something again. "hm, i knew it, L.T. you got the hots for someone at home, got it bad, heh." the iciest glare he'd ever received from ghost, was all he got in return. simon yanked his hoodie sleeve back down as if that was going to clear the memory of his vulnerability.

─── "be careful, sergeant, or you'll be lying in the med bay."

[a-twistedheartslonging]

IM LOVING UR NONHUMAN AU.

Do you think Crowley would be protective of us? Maybe fend off the beasties that try to court us?

That's a cute thought.

Realistically, Crowley is a dick that often leaves the protagonist to fend for their self and pushes them to take care of dangerous stuff that they really shouldn't have to.

But on the other hand…hehe birb dad.

One of the reasons he avoids us is because of the whole us “wanting a way home thing.”

Imagine his surprise when you tell him you would rather stay. Maybe you don't have a family, maybe the family you have is horrible, or maybe it's because our world is a polluted mess with a cruddy economy. Regardless it means he doesn't have to (pretend) to put in the work of sending you home. 

Well, as long as there's a place for you to stay that is. He is sort of your guardian and it would be in the best interest of himself and the entire school if you stayed.

Now a thing I like to think about…this man is likely lonely. I mean, a lot of people don't like the guy. (for good reason) The students and teachers are tired of his shit, though he and Trien seem to be homies and have tea together, the guy’s cat still hates him. Crowley also doesn't have a mate or any hatchlings waiting at home for him.

Combine the guilt trip of having nowhere else to go, add his loneliness, and then butter the guy up. I would say you have a good chance of getting him attached.

Imagine he sees you heading his way and is about to screw off cuz he doesn't want to deal with whatever thing you need to get fixed or have to complain about, you catch the sleeve of his coat before he can, and so he braces himself. But instead of asking him for something or scolding him you simply ask him about his day and how he's doing.

Birdman is shook.

Bit by bit the tasks and chores he gives you are ones where you'll be around him or he’ll randomly pop in to check in on you while doing them. Soon you end up being the preferred person for making and bringing him his tea. He pretends to nap on his office couch while you do his paperwork. May even ask you to help him file his claws on occasion. If it wasn't so dire for you to take care of things at the school he would be half tempted to bring you along on one of his vacations. If you give him anything it's going on his desk and he will brag about it to anyone who enters his office.

His cheap ass isn't going to spoil you but he will bring you small gifts. Usually the random shiny thing and small souvenir from his trips away. You might start finding loose feathers around Ramshackle and more crows around who also bring small things.

He starts thinking up plans for you to stay on as official faculty of the school once graduating. Of course, it's only because you are super useful and not because he’ll miss you or anything…

It doesn't really hit him until after he sees one of the teachers getting all father figure-y with you and he gets jealous.

Displeased bird noises.

Even before he started to get attached to you he did keep an eye on you, your easy prey amongst beasts after all, but he does develop a habit of popping in more when a boy happens to show his interest in you…or anytime he thinks someone is trying to sneak in and swipe his unofficial dad role…he does a lot of that with Crewel and Trien in particular.

Still, even with his affection for you, he’s still very much…him and the boys know this. Not long till he finds the more well-off beasty boys in his office offering donations to the school in exchange for certain things. More info about you, making you a member of his dorm, ect. A few have learned that the best thing to butter him up with is to talk about what a kind and generous father figure he is and how lovely it would be for Crowley to give the perfect away on their wedding day.

As a result, he, and probably Grim, are going to nudge you toward certain preferred suitors.

You might end up seeing him and probably grim nudging you towards the more well-off suitors.

[riddles-fiddles]

Heartslabyul boys with a pregnant S/O

Synopsis: I'm dealing with terrible baby ferver so I need to get this out of my system. Headcanons to how the boys react to your pregnancy all thorough the months. Characters: Riddle Rosehearts, Trey Clover, Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Cater Diamond Tags: SFW, fluff, domestic fluff Notes: AFAB gender neutral reader, cw pregnancy and birth

•·.·''·.·•ˏˋ°•*•·.·''·.·•ˏˋ°•*•·.·''·.·•ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

⁀➷ Riddle Rosehearts – poor man hasn't had one single good night's rest ever since the pregnancy test came positive. Riddle is over the moon with the news, of course, but stressed just as much; he knows there's a lot going on with your body and a growing baby can seriously wear you off, so he's always checking up on you, and the doctor's appointments turned into a routine. He's worried and delighted all the same, making sure you're comfortable and your needs are always met. He's pampering you rotten and doesn't even mind your mood swings; he learned to be a lot more patient and permissive from them. Regarding weird pregnancy cravings - no, he won't allow you to eat screws with ketchup, but will provide you with a nutritious meal, mapping your weird requests and directing them in healthy and safe foods.

And though he looks stiff and on alert constantly, he immediately relaxes when he lays by your side, head resting on your chest while his arm gently hugs your belly in a protective way. It's also really cute to watch the way he gasps in surprise and his face go alight with sincere affection when the baby kicks, reacting to his words.

Riddle likes to plan beforehand, so he can avoid facing unpleasant surprises, knowing how to act and be dependable like the responsible father he is supposed to be. He hates to be reminded about his neglected childhood, about how his father would barely make appearances during important events of his life and the way his mother was a strict tyrant who only controled him his whole life. He wants to be better, someone much different from both his parental figures - he wants to be perfect, loving, someone who can make you feel safe and comfortable, taking everything to the smallest detail. So when you lift your eyes to face him, he feels a sense of dread as your features slowly changes from relaxed to one of horror. "Riddle... I think my water broke," those words freezes him on the spot, and he's more terrified than you. Shake his nerves off so he can drive you to the hospital, please, or else he's the one giving birth on the spot. Don't worry though, he'll not leave your side for one single moment once you reach the delivery room, massaging your hand and cooing softly against your ear to try and make the process less terrifying.

⁀➷ Trey Clover – he's a lot more busy ever since you gave the good news. Trey has been working a lot more at his parents bakery and even making side jobs to ensure your growing family's comfort; though mama and papa Clover have both been deeply delighted and eager to extend their help in whatever aspect you may need, Trey is determined to be a providing, responsible father. Of course, he will not stop you from working if you wish to, but will talk you in staying home by the last trimesters, and he looks so worried it's convincing enough. He always comes home late at night, exhausted and worn off, but you're always greeted with the sweetest smile of satisfaction and affection when he comes to lay by your side, wrapping you on his arms and planting loving kisses on your face as he's lulled by your voice talking about how was your day.

He's always sending you messages or calling you to know how you're doing between breaks, and always tries to accompany you during doctor's appointment. If for some reason - like being called to work - he can't be present, he'll ask his mother to go to the appointments with you, just to be sure. He hates that most times he will be too busy to do everything by your side, but will find comfort on the fact that everything will pay off at the end. He is a little disappointed to know that you won't be allowed to eat his sweets, but makes adaptations of your favourite desserts - no sugar with fresh and natural ingredients. Maybe they aren't as tasty as before, but somehow it still feels sweets and are enough to sate your cravings. And no matter how weird they are, Trey will be happy to indulge them, as long as you don't request for something dangerous.

Similar to Riddle, Trey is thinking ahead of time. He has reserved two bags with hospital essentials, one for the baby and one for you, just to be ready when time comes. And when you go into labour, he's quick to react and drive you safely to the hospital, staying by your side until everything calms down, cheering on you and providing comfort the whole time.

⁀➷ Cater Diamond – he was... surprised to know about your pregnancy. He wasn't actively looking forward to be a parent, but he quickly warmed to the idea just from looking at how happy you looked. Also, that meant cute baby pics and another excuse to pull you on his arms to take cheesy photos together. Cater keeps on the easy-going, confident demeanor around you to keep you at ease, but he's swirling with anxiety and doubts inside his mind; his idea regarding parenting isn't one of the best, being manipulated all his live by his sisters and even mother, not to mention that his father's absence for the sake of his own job took a toll on any practical exp he could have on the matter. But he still tries, and he tries hard; suddenly, his Magicam feed is flooding with maternity-dedicated influencers and he's diligent enough to write down the most useful and important tips.

He's also looking for fun, cute pregnancy trends to pull you into, something to take your minds off the scary aspects of it all. He tries to act all mysterious on his stories and new posts, giving out hints and it surprisingly explodes in likes and comments - everybody is on their toes for the day Cater finally announces the pregnancy, and when he makes it public, he's documenting everything, first bump, the ultrassounds, the development of the baby. Will send you memes about pregnancy and useful articles to read together. Also, you won't even need to voice out your needs, Cater's senses are heightened over the roof now and he's tending to them before you can even sigh. Need a hug? Already wrapping his arms around you. Want something hearty to eat? He's calling the best restaurant in town to deliver your comfort food.

Going to appointments with him is always fun; that's when he shows off his concerned side the more, questioning everything the doctor says, discussing articles he had previously read and asking about every little aspect to it. And when your due date comes, he's surprisingly quick to pack everything up like it was nothing, but don't expect him to drive you to the hospital. His arms and legs are melting the moment he sits down. While in labour, he will try his best to make his presence on the delivery room, letting you hold his hand and scream at his ears, but the moment he sees blood, he's fainting. Nope, can't take it at all, he 's just too anxious about it.

⁀➷ Ace Trappola – he's speechless about the news and it takes some time to finally dawn on him he's about to be a dad. Ace is a mix of curiosity, eagerness and reluctance; the aspect of raising a family of his own excites him, but is also scary. He's not particularly experienced with children and this is a whole new world for him, something he needs to learn from a blind spot - and damn, he struggles to keep an interest on pregnancy matters. Everything is too confusing or too hard for him, so he's quick to lose interest. Please, make things easy and fun for him so he can collect some good sense on his head. Ace seeks guidance from his father and older brother though, and at least they are a good influence on him; he learns about the delicate aspect of pregnancy and how he can help make things go less hard on you, so enjoy the next nine months - you'll see a new side of Ace, acting all gentlemanly and serious, at least most of the time.

Yes, he's still the mischievous, funny-loving Ace who will joke about something eventually, teasing you about how you can't bend down to get things on the floor, or how you're going nuts from craving weird ass foods, all the while fetching you anything you can't reach or cooking you a nice meal. He's got a reputation to uphold, you know? So don't you dare tell Deuce or Cater how much of a pleasing puppy he has become just to see you all happy and comfy! He'll never ever admit it, much less oblige to your requests in public, but the minute you have stepped foot inside... one "Ace" is all it takes and he's right by your side in one breath, no matter how far from you he is.

By your due date, Ace is a wrecking mess of nerves. He's lost, though he can't keep still; he runs around the house to fetch everything you might need, but he's always going around, just to make sure nothing is left behind. In front of the nurses, he acts all smug and cool, trying to hide how anxious he actually is as you're directed to the delivery room, but his hands betray him, trembling and sweating. If you want him on the room so you can hold his hands, please don't point out how teary eyed he is. ⁀➷ Deuce Spade – HAPPIEST BOY EVER!!!!!! Deuce lifts you off your feet and twirls you around, peppering your face with kisses the moment you reveal your pregnancy. Deuce is too embarrased to admit it, but truth is that he dreams about the day you two can grow a family together ever since your relationship got serious, and now that his dream has come true he can't contain his happiness! "MAMA! MAMA, I'M GOING TO BE A DAD!" Deuce is tearing up at the phone as he shares the wonderful news with his mother, and you can hear mama Spade squealing from the other side. Honestly, it's hard to pick out who's the more excited - you, Deuce, or mama Spade. As soon as she hears about the news, she's coming over with a basket of gifts - food, knitted baby socks and even some cream and beauty products she used on her pregnancy, congratulating you and Deuce on a big, tight hug. She's so proud of her babies and is gleamming from the prospect of finally being a grandmother - she can't wait to spoil your child rotten enjoy the glee of raising a child all over again, but only with the fun parts, of course. Mama Spade spends a lot of time around you two, teaching the basics and soothing your nerves. All the while, Deuce is clingier than ever, attentive and much more responsible; ever since the announcement of your pregnancy, he looks more regulated, calm and relaxed, or at least he is when it doesn't affect you.

He did threaten to throw hands with some guys staring at you while walking on the square, and also started a ruckus when you two were left on a waiting line on the supermarket for more than twenty minutes, but besides that... you have never seen him so chill. Just like Ace, Deuce is a pleasing puppy; you just need to mumble his name and he'll be right by your side, ready to get you anything. He rubs your shoulder, feet, hands, everything to make you feel less sore, giving you pillows to lean against and warm blankets, and reserves bigger, fresher portions of food for you. He's the kind of guy to wake up at 3 a.m. to drive you to mcdonals with a smile on his face or just comfort you from a nightmare. When you tell him you're going into labour, Deuce hurries up to the hospital, shouting at everyone to take you as priority, and that's when his delinquent boy spirit shines, scaring all the nurses to take you to the delivery room above all the other patients. He's over the moon as you grip onto his hand like your life depends on it, cheering you through your pushes and groans, and whispering how proud he is of you, and you can be sure he'll be balling his eyes out once he gets to hold the baby.

[judasgot-it]

Just saw your post on what kind of lovers Dazai, Tecchou and Nikolai are and I want to know what kind of lover Chuuya is!!

DJFLJAFL I NEVER GET CHUUYA REQUESTS OMG (short king. he is such a good character I love him)

Headcannon: What kind of lover is he? (Chuuya, the short king himself mwah)

After being screwed over by so many people he thought he could trust, he has a hard time giving his heart over. Especially when it comes to some of the most vulnerable parts of himself, since he still has soft spots for people who he hates - he needs to be reassured, and has no issue telling his lover "I love you" - it's the one thing he needs to hear as well.

I feel like despite appearing angry a lot, he's sensitive to a lot of things - he finds his relationships to be a top priority since they're all he has

So his lover is someone who he thinks about a lot, so much that he'd go out of his way for them

He communicates his feelings in not the best way though, since he tends to repress them too

This man will struggle to open up, not because he doesn't trust but because he feels like it becomes a burden. The whole childhood thing is a bit much for him.

Literally will listen to you rant about yours just fine but he can't talk about his for shit. He just brings it up randomly like "I was stabbed by my best friend in the gang once"

Does NOT elaborate

He loves to gossip though, and probably does bitch about some things - like Dazai. Whatever mundane drama goes on in his life he WILL tell his lover.

Needs to be told "I love you" and reassured that he won't be abandoned. Probably is a frequent texter and gives a little too many gifts. He has the money to spoil, and he will.

If he's given something back, he'll do it back threefold. He has a really big heart unfortunately, it's his downfall

Loyal in a clingy way tbh.

Gets sad if you don't cuddle him or kiss him when you see him come home or leave for work. or see him anytime really.

Unless he's in front of important people he's a stage 5 PDA guy

He'd probably leave his lover alone if they asked but I think he wants to be seen as a couple when he's around them, he doesn't want any sort of second-guessing

I blame all of this on his Taurus energy

I need to tryout more Chuuya content cuz he seems like a loyal AF dude and I can't stand hoes (Dazai is said hoe. jk i love that hoe)

[shelbgrey]

Hello, I just got into Grey's Anatomy and found your blog, and I love the stories you write!

I was wondering if you could write a small story about Doctor Bailey calming down a new intern (because she is my biggest comfort character). If possible, could the story end with a hug?

Thank you!

“your my favorite” (Miranda Bailey)

Greys MasterList

The woman that was once called the nazi show unexpected tenderness one faithful day.

Dr. L/n was assigned to the resident called the Nazi, dude to the name she was terrified to screw things up in the residents presents.

When she met the 'Nazi' she was surprised to she a short woman. Her name was Dr. Bailey and she held a scowl the said she ment business.

She told them not to suck up because she already hated them. Y/n looked down at that and hid behind Alex Karev.

Through out the month Dr. Y/n did her best to show she deserved to be there but everyone seemed to walk all over her... Dr. Bailey took notice to this quickly.

Dr. Bailey soon grew a soft spot for Dr. L/n as she reminded Bailey of herself when she was an intern.

Dr. Bailey reminded stern but also had her back. She knew Dr. L/n was there to learn, but she could help but feel her heart break everytime she saw how anxious the intern got.

One day it was particularly hard. L/n had been picked by Dr. Bailey herself to scrub in on a kidney surgery. It was her first surgery and I couldn't have gotten any worse.

Tears ran down the interns face as she heard the heart monitor flat line.

“call it Dr. L/n” Dr. Webber said.

She shook her head and didn't dare look anywhere but the floor. Dr. Bailey sighed softly. “time of death, 20:14”

After that Dr. L/n rushed out of the OR and quickly cleaned up before anyone could catch her.

“That was unprofessional, I understand she's learning but-” before Dr. Webber could continue Bailey snapped.

“she's doing her best!” she pointed at Webber with anger. “ever since she's got here she's done nothing but put 110% into her work. She works hard dispite being step on and mocked... You will not speak to or about my intern like that”

“Yes ma'am” he mumbled right before she's stormed out of the OR starting her hunt for the intern.

After about 10 minutes she found Dr. L/n curled up in ball in an empty examination room. She looked up at Bailey but quietly looked down at the scrub cap she was holding. “I'm sorry” she said tearing up again.

Bailey gave her a sympathetic looked and quickly rushed to her side. “it happens... Even though we try our best for a patients they just don't make it”

The intern's tears fell hard as Bailey pulled her into her arms. “it's my fault... It was a simple surgery”

She shushed her and hugged her tighter. “it's not your fault, you did everything you could”

“don't let this cloud your strive to help people... Your gifted and you'll make an amazing doctor” Bailey told her.

“why are you being so nice? My first day you said you hated me and the other interns.” she asked Bailey.

She's playfully scoffed. “well I do... Hate the other surgery hungry heathens” she stopped for a moment and smiled. “don't tell anyone, but your my favorite”

Bailey smiled big and pulled the intern in for one more bear hug.

[elizais]

midnight blues

dazai x fem!reader angsty, then fluffy warnings: dazai's scars @cafekitsune 4 the divider!!

the whole day had gone by normally, waking up, work, coming home, and going to bed with all the special stuff in between. osamu came to bed with you and insisted on holding very tightly on you to fall asleep.

you fell asleep before him. your head rested on top of his, his bandaged body engulfed around yours. or so you thought. waking up to his side of the bed empty, you immediately got up.

his phone was on his bedside table, and you saw a light coming from the hallway. rubbing your eyes, you saw the bathroom door open halfway. your handsome boyfriend was in his navy blue tank top that you adored.

but something was different. you had seen his scars a handful of times before, never pushing him to show you. you were used to tracing over them mindlessly, pressing kisses to them, seeing how they blend in with his moles..

osamu hadn't spotted you yet. you saw his watery eyes and then saw the bandages that usually covered his left arm were off. fallen to the floor.

squinting to try and look through the blur, your makeup bag was open and he had taken out your concealer and a beauty blender. your heart broke into a million pieces.

he was so focused on covering the scars he didn't see you behind him in the mirror. he was trying his best to figure out how to use your makeup, you saw how sparingly he was using it too.

"..'samu?" you whispered, gently stroking his bandaged shoulder, not wanting to startle the tender skin on the other arm. his bloodshot eyes met your sleepy ones and he opened his mouth to speak.

not a single word came out.

"oh.. osamu." you spoke softly as you cupped his cheek. you had only seen him cry a number of times so little you could count on one hand. you were glad the number was so low, you hated seeing him upset. on the other hand, he trusted you enough with his emotions.

"i just.. wanted to see what i would look like without them. i couldn't sleep. i'm sorry." he slowly spoke, head hanging low.

"do not apologise. i don't mind you using this if that is what you want to do." you gestured to your concealer, sitting on the counter in front of him. "do you want my help? you can't sleep with it on though."

he nodded his head, holding his hand out as you carefully covered his scars. "your scars don't have to be a bad thing, i love all of you." you reassured, only helping him with this because he was clearly overcome by emotion.

you made sure to kiss each scar before you covered it up.

once the arm was done, you gave him a small kiss. he couldn't stop looking at his arm, the arm that had been scarred since before he could remember.

screwing the top of the concealer back on and placing it on the countertop next to you, he is staring at you with complete admiration. "why don't you ever push me to take off my bandages? you've barely ever seen my bare skin." he asks softly.

"because we all have reasons for everything we do. if i ask you to take off your bandages, that is forcefully tearing down one of your barriers that doesn't have to be taken down."

he sighs, your response fitting your always kind nature. his hand covered in makeup moves to take off his bandages on his neck and other arm. "do you want me to do the rest?" you asked, thinking that is what he was getting at.

he shakes his head, fluffy hair following suit. he is showing you his scars. a jungle of purples and pinks, some slashes and some circular. your heart broke as more seemed to appear each time you blinked.

you didn't cry though. you didn't think of crying.

was it upsetting? yes. but this was osamu. and every part of osamu is a part you have devoted yourself to loving. just like he has done for you.

"some of them don't upset me." he mutters, staring at his forearm.

"hm?" you question, only staring at his face.

"this one has a funny story." he laughed solemnly, slowly feeling better. "you will like the story." he began.

"i had an awful day, chuuya was getting on my nerves.. hirotsu was mad at me.." he began to explain how awful the day was, making you question how the scar was funny to him.

"so i went to bar lupin with ango and odasaku.." he smiled to himself. "and we got so drunk we tested out which stool was the spinniest.. of course ango wasn't drinking but he had the same attitude as oda and i.." he laughed to himself, holding eye contact with you.

the pink scar was beginning to look like a fiction book, one found in an old library with soft laughter tied around it like a ribbon.

"and one of the stools ango tested was broken. he went flying across the room!" your boyfriend mimicked an explosion with his hands, "me and oda thought he was doing it on purpose so i tried.." he began to giggle as if a schoolgirl.

"i flew into an empty table, a piece of glass cutting me. hurt like hell getting stitches but what makes it better is oda thought i was joking too.." he smiled as you began to laugh uncontrollably, happy his scars have some good memories attached to them. you knew how the rest of the story went afterwards.

"oda went flying too, but into the bar cat's corner and spooked the cat. got scratched up crazy bad, can't blame the cat though." he was wiping tears from his eyes as he reminisced.

he pulled you into a hug and whispered many thank yous into your hair, wiping off the makeup on his arm. telling many more stupid stories throughout the night.