#had me enraptured the whole game

[yourknightinshiningplastic]

btw guys I've got a new character I'm not normal about .

[yo9urt]

beat beegee three last night!

[forzalando]

read to me

short and sweet lando + reading blurb for @coff33andb00ks 😊 i really, really hope you like it, viv! you know my thoughts on it already lol and i'm so sorry it's so short😭 please forgive me!!! summary: you finally have a day together after weeks away from home - lando suggests a day out, but all you want to do is read your new book. pairing: lando x fem!reader word count: 876 words tw: mild cursing

You loved traveling the world with Lando – discovering new favorites in every city, making memories across the globe. But sometimes, you wished that life could move a little slower.

Days like today are ones you cherished with all your heart. Both of you at home in your shared apartment, no plans or work or distractions. You woke up that morning before Lando, quietly slipping out of bed and tip-toeing to the kitchen to make a cup of whatever random tea bag you could find in the cupboard after a triple-header and no groceries.

The clock read 8:11am and you were positive that Lando wouldn’t be up for at least another hour given how exhausting the last few weeks have been. Rather than climb back in bed and potentially disturb him, you flopped onto the couch and weighed your options for entertainment.

Out of the corner of your eye you spotted a book that a friend had recommended to you that you’d ordered and forgotten to pack before leaving for Spain. You settled deeper into the couch, threw a blanket across your lap, and opened the book to the first page, immediately hooked by just the first line.

Enraptured with the words before you, you didn’t realize the time or hear Lando repeatedly calling your name from the bedroom. He trudged out into your living room to investigate and saw you snuggled into the couch, oblivious to all of your surroundings.

“Babe?” He spoke quietly, from directly behind you.

You screamed in shock – the book flying from your hands and landing on the floor with a loud thud.

“Why did you sneak up on me like that?!” You yelled, launching yourself up to grab your book from the floor before any of the pages got crinkled.

“I’ve been calling your name for the past five minutes! How long have you been awake?”

“What time is it?”

“Around 11am– I can’t believe I slept that long.”

Your eyes drifted to your mug, tea long forgotten and no longer steaming.

“Holy shit,” you mumbled. “I’ve been reading for almost 3 hours, I didn’t even realize.” You placed the book on the coffee table next to your mug, attempting to stall your thoughts about the last full chapter you read and turn your attention to Lando as he hopped down on the couch next to you.

“We finally have a whole day to ourselves – what are you in the mood for?” Lando questioned, moving to throw the blanket over himself and lay in between your legs with his head in your lap – his self-proclaimed favorite spot. “We could grab lunch at our favorite place, maybe ice cream after a walk on the beach, go rope some friends into a game of padel, anything you want, love.”

You mulled the options given over in your head while Lando looked up at you expectantly. You tried to think of other options to suggest to convince him you wanted to go out, but in all honesty, nothing sounded more appealing than staying inside, snuggling with your boyfriend, and finishing that damned book.

Your fingers carded through his curls, pretending to think long and hard about what activity you’d tackle together. Lando, always attuned to your emotions, noticed your hesitation and the quick glance you gave the coffee table.

“What if we stayed home, actually?” He offered, watching your eyes light up and a small smile grace your cheeks.

“Are you sure? We’ve barely done anything the past three weeks, if you want to go out, I’ll get ready!”

The feeling of your hands massaging his hair, your midsection providing the perfect pillow, and the giddy look on your face at the thought of more reading made answering you the easiest thing in the world.

“I’m so sure. All that matters to me is that I’m spending the day with you, and besides, I could do with a few hours of relaxation.”

You leaned down and kissed him softly in thanks – a contended sigh escaping his mouth when you then turned to kiss his cheek before returning to sitting upright.

“Will you read to me?” Lando murmured. “You know how much I love the sound of your voice.”

You smiled and bent over gently to grab your book, turning back to page one because how could you subject Lando to starting in the middle?

Within ten minutes, soft snores echoed throughout the room and Lando had wound his arms around your waist, nuzzling his cheek against your stomach. You smiled down at your overgrown cat of a boyfriend, gently tossing your book back over to the table so you’d have free hands.

One in his soft curls and the other resting between his shoulder blades. Nothing meant more to you than these moments – being close to him, complete relaxation, seeking comfort in one another.

You were content to sit and stare down at him for as long as he remained asleep. The straight slope of his nose, long lashes brushing against his cheekbones, how his lips parted slightly. Despite all the places you’d been, monuments and cities you’d seen, there wasn’t a sight more lovely than Lando Norris.

Reading would simply have to wait when your eyes could instead gaze upon someone so beautiful.  

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[unconventional-lawnchair]

Fall in Love in A Night

James Potter x Black!Reader

Say You Won't Let Go James Arthur

Masterlist

Summary: College AU, Muggle AU, James falls in love with the some of the worst parts of you, his best friends sister }

Wc- 3529

Cw: FIRST DRAFT - Not proof read- Use of {Y/N}, sexual themes and scenes, cussing, Sirius is kinda a butt and broken hearted, Amos Diggory slander, Pandalily, insecurities}

One party, one night. You promised your friends when you went to the Gryffindor dormitories past curfew, this was a one party, one night, thing. 

You never really drank, you never really partied, you never really “had any fun,” Marlene would mock you. In all fairness, your oldest brother partied enough for the both of you. He would usually blow his top at the idea of you drinking in the lion's den, surrounded by bold and cocky red scarves. But he was at home, spending time with Remus.

The only reason you came, however, was because Lily promised to be by you the whole night. That, and well, your most recent break up. You would do anything to get the absolute arse that was Amos Diggory out of your mind.

You didn't know why you trusted that, because the moment she saw Pandora she was in another universe. Following the blonde around and hanging on her every word. It would be cute if she didn't abandon you five shots in. 

Well, you had other people to entertain you at least. You had spent the better half of your night sobering up enough to listen to Arthur Weasley, a teacher's assistant, explain an admittedly simple muggle board game, going off the two girls that had since abandoned them at the table.

You didn't want to kill his vibe, but Molly Prewett was most definitely flirting with him all night, and he seemed too enraptured with the cardboard on his lap then what could have been there instead. Again, it was none of your business, and you were just happy the hardass was having fun. 

They were so painfully obvious about it. Molly had asked him to reexplain things several times, batting her eyelashes at the fool, and he was none the wiser as he explained it. He was too patient and dumb for your liking. Still, he extended the same courtesy to you, who was equal parts frustrated and amused. 

“So.. it's called Shoots and Ladders?" You mumbled, for the fourth time tonight, leaning your cheek against your palm and looking up at him with ever dwindling hope that he would say something even a little interesting. Anything to not look completely awkward and alone.

You knew he liked his muggle arts, but genuinely, it was not that fascinating. Shoots go down and Ladders go up as they tend to do. How enrapturing.

"Arthur, would you like to dance?" You asked and Arthur smiled at you, toothy and shy, “I uhm.. yeah, yeah, I'd like to dance.” 

“Good. Because Prewett has been staring for over an hour waiting for you to ask her.” You gestured across the room and the older boy looked over. Instantly making eye contact with Molly who looked away quickly. It finally seemed to click for him and he wet his lip, standing up.

“Has she been-”

“All night.”

“Truly?”

“Do you really think that game is that interesting?” You mused and then slowly smirked. “Don't answer that.”

“I am a moron.” He muttered with puffed up cheeks and you threw your head back with a low groan. He hurried after Molly who was now playing coy. Alone, again. At least your friends were having fun.

Your eyes scanned the room and they locked on a familiar figure. Damn it. 

You quickly began to stand and gather your purse, before he walked up to stand beside you. It could be seen as friendly, but he was right between you and any viable exit from your seat. You closed your eyes and gave a small sigh before looking up at him. “Diggory? Excuse me, I was just heading home.” You huffed.

“Woah woah, what's the rush?” He smiled in his usual sickeningly sweet drawl. You rolled your eyes as he leaned his arm on the back of your chair. Even as drunk as you were, the smell of alcohol on his breath turned your stomach in an unpleasant way. “Come on, you've hardly even touched the dance floor. Why not one more dance? I'll leave you be, swear it.”

You stared at his offered hand and for a moment truly thought about it. Were you drunk enough for this? 

"Diggory, I don't think that's-" Before you could finish with her puffed up cheeks, someone cleared their throat. 

"Hey! {Y/N}, right?" A voice cut in. You and Diggory looked over to see no one other than James Potter. Now, you knew him, you knew him from the several heart breaking attempts at trying to win over your dearest friend Lily Evans. Now, you hadn't seen him in quite a while, after Lily finally broke and told him she liked girls. You felt horrible at the look of absolute mortification when he realized she was not, indeed, playing hard to get. She just truly wasn't interested in him. You still saw him on occasion, seeing as his best friend was your brother. Not that you were allowed near your brother’s friends, he had threatened them with violence unknown if they tried anything, even being near you was a crime in his eyes.

Which begs the question, why was he suddenly here? “{Y/N} Black? I hope you remember me.” He cheeked and you couldn't help but smile a bit. Why was he so nervous? You've talked before. Must be the impending Black Wrath. And who could possibly forget the James Potter?

You glanced up and looked between Diggory and him for a moment before you popped your tongue and leaned back. "Yeah, of course I do." You tried to joke, coming out a bit slurred. Wow. You don't realize how strong fire whiskey was. You attempted to stand up again and this time Diggory relented and let you pass. You stood in front of James, and he rubbed the back of his neck. His face was flushed and his words were stammered, he must have been just as drunk. 

"It's nice to meet-" He seemed to pause and he looked startled at his own slip up. “N-not that I don't know you, well, you know me. I hope- I hope you know me. Well, you said you know me, just-”

You held your hand up and he stared at you with wide eyes and flustered cheeks so dark you were sure he would pass out. He seemed both thankful and distressed that you stopped him. You were doing your best to hide a cheeky smile. “Rewind.”

“How far?” He whispered.

“Hm.. as funny as most of that was, let's start back at, ‘of course I do’.” You smirked this time and he seemed to sigh in relief.

“Thank Merlin.” He mumbled and clenched his chest. You laughed.

“That's not my name.” You mused and leaned a bit closer. You had to admit, he was cute. Very cute.

He gave a laugh at this and shook his head. Turning to look behind you before his tense shoulders relaxed. “There we go. He's gone.” James muttered and you turned to look back and saw Amos trailing off to go talk to some other girl. You shrugged it off, you were busy now.

“Are you alright? He seemed a bit..”

“Pushy? Yeah. He's.. he's interesting.” You sighed and straightened your back a bit. You were surprised when your brother nearly hexed him on the spot when he found out you two were seeing each other. Now? You understood completely. 

He was a rake. Flirted with anything with legs and called you delusional when you spoke up about it. Well, you can't exactly hide walking in on him and Rita Skeeter in his dorm room. You don't know what you were more mad about, catching them in bed together or seeing Rita Skeeter naked.

“Yeah, he's.. a piece of work.” He mumbled and you shrugged it off, his eyes drifting back to you and locking.

You stared at him for a moment and slowly tilted your head. He looked like he was building confidence for something. You could see a million different thoughts in his head as his eyes searched yours.

“James-”

“At risk of humiliating myself further,” He muttered quickly, and offered you his hand. You stared at it bewildered before you looked back up at him. “Would you like to dance?”

Your eyes searched his for some ulterior motive. What was the sudden change for? James never paid particular attention to you but the way he was looking at you right now.. 

Now, these parties ended in one of two things, a hookup or a make out session. At least, that's what your brother always told you. Amos didn't show you any different, and coming here, if you said yes to James you had a small nagging feeling that was where this was headed.

“.. Why not, Potter?” You smiled and took his hand. He gave a look, smiling so wide his dimples caved into a fold. Merlin he was really really cute.

~~~

You couldn't lie, you were having the time of your life. Dancing and twirling on the floor with James, you two had a bit of a rhythm, dancing off beat at times as you got so wrapped up in your own ridiculous little worlds. Taking shots and practically joint at the hips all night.

As it went on you got more comfortable. The space between you was shrinking, and his hands slipped from your waist to your hips. You both were practically grinding on each other at points, neither of you daring to step back. It felt warm. Everything was warm. His hands, his breath, his body. You felt like fire, and you wanted so much more.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the break up, maybe it was the fact that you knew it would piss off your brother, but you tugged James out of the party and into the halls, instantly your body was cooled by the night wind slipping in from the windows.

Out in the hall you pulled James down into a kiss. It felt like sparks were set off on your skin. He grabbed your hips and walked you back into a wall, both of you were both far too absorbed in one another to even think. You felt like you were on cloud nine. You had snogged before, of course you had, but his large hands all over you, his lips on yours, bruising the skin, as he commanded the kiss, the way he held you so secure, you about died. 

You broke away slowly, tugging him closer towards a broom closet not too far away from where you stood. He gave a chuckle and shook his head, your drunken mind could only pout. He quickly took your cheeks and kissed you again, stifling any whines before he broke the kiss and smiled sweetly at you. "I'm not taking a girl like you in a broom closet." He smirked, you opened your mouth to protest before he quickly interrupted. "Especially," He dragged out every syllable, "While you're drunk, darling. Let's get you home, yeah?" He asked and you melted into his hands, still pouting but giving in.

James stared at you for a moment before he began to lead you down the steps in front of the campus dorms. 

The wind was sharp and cold on your burning skin, worse than inside. You swayed as you stepped, James didn't hesitate to grab your waist and help you down the stairs. Out of the rare coherent thoughts you had; you were just glad you didn't wear heels. 

A part of you felt bad, for being such a mess and having James Potter, your brother's best friend, a guy you personally hardly knew, taking care of you. But with his hand around your waist so secure you couldn't bring yourself to think twice about it. Your head lulled back and you smiled at him. You knew you must look a sight, sweaty, bug eyed, your eyelids kept sagging and your baby hairs clung to your skin through the sweat. 

You knew you didn't look pleasant at least. Your eyes slowly shut and let out a hum, whining as James pulled away, losing his warmth when he did, only to melt as his jacket covered your shoulders. Eyes slowly opening to look up at his blurry figure.

He gave you a smile when he knew you couldn't see, it was gentle and it was affectionate. You both began to walk. You didn't know where, too wasted to even remember James didn't know where your dorms were. He had his arm around your waist and kept you still, not planning on moving anytime soon as you let him take on your weight, the liquor making it harder to think straight. You staggered and stumbled but he was always there to keep his grip on you. Always catching you. You could almost forget he was wasted too.

You felt humiliated and embarrassed when your mind grew sober. You spent the night trying your absolute hardest to forget your ex and now you were making James pick up the pieces. You dance the night away with your brother's best friend, and he wouldn't even have you. Now, you were forcing him to take you home because they were both far too drunk to drive and she was too stupid to call her brother for a ride. 

The thoughts spun in your head and you felt bile raising in your throat. You gagged and covered your mouth, quickly stumbling out of his arms to the grass of the park you were stumbling past. Kneeling over some bushes and vomiting with some very unpleasant sounds. You slowly fell to your knees and resisted the urge to sob.

It was official, you hated tonight. All of it. You began to throw up more, and you felt his hands comb your hair back to gather it up, one of his other hands rubbing your back. Your stomach churned painfully and you let out the sobs you held back. You always forget how much this part hurts.

Merlin what the fuck was wrong with you? Your brother was right, you shouldn't be dating until you're at least 100. Hopefully James is too drunk to be crossed with you. You slowly looked back at him with your pout and tried to wipe off your face, he produced a packet of napkins from his pocket and began to try and clean your lip. Fucking hell- now he was babying you.

Your wobbling eyes looked up at him and your breath caught in your throat. His eyes held something you hadn't seen before.

He was smiling, clearly still tipsy himself, hiccuping into his palm. You were stunned to see how fond his smile was. "You're bloody breathtaking. Do you know that?." He whispered to you and slowly pulled you into his chest despite your protests of how nasty you must have looked. 

He curled his leg forward and let you lean your full weight on it. He rubbed your back as you laid rag dolled against him. He let you collect yourself. 

It was getting colder, and later, but neither of you seemed to even think about the weather, the people passing by, the street lights turning off. You both just stared at each other before beginning to devolve into a fit of giggles. He grabbed your cheeks and began to pepper your face with kisses. You scrunched up your nose and laughed, quickly returning a few of your own. "How'd I get so lucky?" He mumbled and you were once again floored by his response.

"I-" You began to let your tears fall down your face, trying to dry them quickly, not wanting him to fuss over you anymore then he already was. Once again, this enigma of a man slowly cupped your cheeks and pulled you into a proper kiss. You didn't even think to protest considering the acid in your throat that still lingered. He didn't seem to care.

James Potter was a mystery. People talked about his kindness, his big heart, his utter stupidity. You were sure all of those things were true. Who kisses a drunk girl in the middle of a busy city sidewalk? On the grass as if she was the only person alive?

You were sure he had no shame.

The truth was, he didn't. James was fucked. He fell, and he fell hard. He knew he liked you for a while. You were probably one of the only people who looked at him like that. Like you wanted more of him. Like you wanted to know him. Sirius never noticed his little crush, thank Merlin. James thought it was gone, he focused on obtainable girls, but bloody hell here he was. With this studious and quiet girl, always looked her best, always sassy and calm, smart but never flashed it about. You were the opposite of him, he never thought it would work.

When he first saw you interact with Amos, he knew he wanted you. when he was told he cheated, he never felt so much bubbling anger. Even Sirius noticed, but James managed to play it off as just another quorum of his big heart. Dating his best friend's sister was nothing maintainable. Even as he had to watch you date absolute losers, watch them get what he wanted more than anything. Even then, it was always just a crush. Something he couldn't be too consumed over.

But now? You were the most bare, raw human to him, exposing every part of yourself intentionally or not, and he didn't know his heart could clench so hard. He didn't know a crush could turn to love only took two hours. 

"Come on, pretty girl. Let's get you home." He whispered and stood up, helping you up as well and you got back to walking. 

It was a long and peaceful walk, it was charming, tumbling over each other and laughing most of the way there. You could feel it, something changing in your chest. Looking up at him and noticing his chiseled jaw and handsome features, his dark clear face sent you into a daze, and when you saw his charming hazel eyes you were done for. You could easily forget this was James Potter.

Yeah. For you, it took four years of being love blind, three months to get over it, and, of course two hours to fall in love. You kept staring at each other as he walked you up to the door. Biting your lip as he knocked on the door. You fiddled with your skirt. "Do you think they are up?"

"Mhm.. doubt they've done much sleeping.." You mumbled and slowly looked back up at him. When did you get so shy? You bit his lip at the discovery he never looked away. 

"... please tell me we'll talk again." His voice was low and sweet. But he sounded so desperate. "Even if it's just a hello in the halls."

"I promise." You whispered so quickly you almost interrupted his next declaration. Not even noticing as the door opened.

“I think I'm in love with you.”

You stared up at him with parted lips and wide eyes. James looked like a nervous, flustered mess. Absolutely wrecked. It took one walk. One walk and you ruined him. 

“I-”

“Absolutely fucking not!” Sirius shouted and grabbed you by your arm, yanking you into the apartment. 

James paled and stared at Sirius like a deer in headlights. Sirius looked ready to kill.

“Sirius-”

“You,” He pointed at James’ chest sharply as your brother practically shoved you at Remus who gave you a sympathetic look. “I'm not going to warn you again. Stay the fuck away from my sister, mate.”

With that, he slammed the door in James' face. 

James stared at the door, still trying to gather himself. He hadn't even realized he said that out loud. He was frozen. What were you going to say? Would you call him crazy? Reject him? Make a fool of him? You just.. you never seemed so shy before.

His heart was a mess but the final nail in the coffin. He could hear your voice on the other side of the door. Growing closer. Like you were fighting to get there.

The door suddenly jerked open and your eyes widened as you saw him still standing there.

He was startled, still far too much heat to his head, frying his brains.

“I-I fancy you, Potter!” You declared and you watched in slow motion as his clueless look slowly lit up into. Bright dazzling smile. 

“James, please, for the love of Merlin call me James.” He pleaded and you gave him the same dazzling drunk smile.

“Jamie.” You cooed, James was a goner, and Sirius finally managed to slam the door closed, much to both of your disappointment.

This time, James had the sense to leave. He did not want to be here when Sirius snapped.

He, still tipsy, reached for his pockets as he walked back towards the campus, and he threw his head back with a laugh. 

His bloody keys were in his jacket pocket.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Small Surprises Pt. 2

Moon Knight System (Marc, Steven, Jake) x Single Mother!Reader

TW/CW: None! Well, maybe Marc and Jake being shameless flirts and a little innuendo/implied sexy times but nothing is detailed!

A/N: The amount of love I've gotten for the first part just blew my mind. I'm so happy you guys loved it so much! Have this gift for the holidays!

Taglist: @katitakenway @winniethewife @thisismiku @justafandomgvrl @chrishy973 @stardream14 @moonkxit @kult6 @blackqueengold @bellaramseysbitch @kimmib13 @skarrkiie @thespookywookies @becca-rebel38 @capsiclesworldsblog @phantom-wizard @idkimherebutidk @call-me-cherrry @bluesophia @ilovepurple31 @queerponcho @dahehow @peachyrue-777 @thevintagevictorian @lemongirl5910 @howellatme @giulscomix @kinglokisqueen4ever @katitakenway

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

That night, to say you were freaked out to see a nine foot tall bird guy standing in your baby girl's bedroom at almost 9pm was an understatement.

You had immediately grabbed your trusty straw broom and promptly went to beat the shit out of whatever-he-was.

Yeah, you did it mostly because he was a literal god stranger in your daughter's bedroom; but you also were partly venting the frustrations you felt at the things the boys told you Khonshu forced them to do, at times.

And damn, did it feel good. You hadn't snapped like that since you left your ex.

Once Marc recovered enough from dying of laughter at the sight of such a diminutive human wailing on a god with a fucking broom, he grabbed you and convinced you to stop before you had a stroke.

Victoria didn't seem to understand, so the two of you had to explain that Khonshu was a "friend" (In very very loose terms). That's when Marc explained what exactly Khonshu was, and...

To his credit--and despite his reputation--Khonshu was... good with Victoria. Sometimes he would loiter in your flat, and Victoria would practically glue herself to him when the boys weren't around (namely when Steven was working or Jake was busy driving others around in his car) and pester him endlessly about what Egypt was like way back when.

And he literally was a living witness to that history, so she would stare enraptured at him as he would inform her and tell her everything the experts got wrong (you figured he probably got an ego boost to have someone so enthralled in what he had to say, and hanging on his every word).

Despite the things Khonshu had forced the boys to do, despite the things he was capable of, you came to trust him with your precious baby. When you were busy working at your computer or on the phone for your work, Khonshu would keep Victoria occupied, either listening to her chatter like an excitable little squirrel over her toys and games, or she would listen to him tell her stories. You even peeked into her room and saw Khonshu (albeit half-assedly) playing with her toys with her.

You did some research into what the ancient Egyptians believed Khonshu to be, and the whole justice and protection thing checked out, but what surprised you was his association with fertility. On crescent moons it was said that Khonshu blessed, and women could conceive. So maybe him being able to connect with Victoria was in relation to that aspect of his divinity. After all, you can't make a baby without conceiving one first, right?

You had half a mind to ask if, maybe somehow Khonshu had a hand in your pregnancy (or any other god, really) but you decided to let it lie. After all, what's done is done and you had your wonderful daughter to hold and love, what did it matter if a god blessed you to get pregnant in the first place?

The boys didn't like Khonshu being so close to Victoria, fearing that maybe Khonshu was grooming her in some way, perhaps to be a follower, or even a future Moon Knight.

You however, didn't get that feeling from him. Perhaps Victoria's innocence was refreshing to him? Perhaps he merely enjoyed the absolute wonder and curiosity of a child? As long as Khonshu didn't hurt her, you felt at least comfortable with him being around her so much.

If anything, it gave a teeny bit more security to know that in addition to the boys, she had a literal god watching over her.

But the boys on the other hand were incredibly protective (and jealous) of Victoria. Khonshu as well, thankfully knew when to step back and allow the boys their time with her, without his presence. After all, he was sick of arguing with them over simple jobs and targets, and perhaps granting them this sense of normalcy would make them more compliant in the future.

Once Victoria started to call Marc daddy, Jake and Steven were then adamant about getting her to call them a similar title, but unique to themselves.

So, Jake was afterwords known as Apá, and Steven was simply Papa, or rarely "Stevie" (thanks to overhearing Donna call him that.) However, Steven began to like the nickname only when the two of you called him that, because where the two of you used it as a term of endearment, Donna often only used it to irk and annoy him.

Yeah, your newfound family was strange... But you wouldn't trade them for anything. Old bird man included (though you made it pointedly clear he was on very thin ice).

Yeah... Life was strange.

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It had been one whole year since you guys were official. And in February it would be one whole year since Victoria had appointed Marc (and of course Steven and Jake) as daddy.

At some point, you had given the boys your full consent to move in. Or at least mostly. You and Victoria had your own stuff, but when you saw just how much stuff the boys had, Marc sheepishly chuckled and told you they can still help with your bills and afford their flat just fine.

After all, with Steven's income and Jake's, it was relatively easy. Not to mention the money Marc had hidden away in case of emergencies.

But the consecutive days Victoria awoke to find your boys there? Oh, it was like Christmas morning every single time.

Speaking of holidays, learning about the ones that Marc, Steven, and Jake acknowledged was... interesting. (As was Steven's veganism, but that was a whole other tale)

One night, you had just finished sending some spreadsheets to your boss when you decided to call it quits for the night, your eyes exhausted and dry from staring at the screen for too long.

You'd closed your laptop and stood, rubbing your dried eyes while you pushed your chair from the desk. Your fingers ached and your tendons were sore from using them for so long, and you were internally groaning at the time and how dark it had become outside.

But honestly, it all melted away when you walked out of your room to see Marc holding Victoria in his arms, telling her about Hanukkah, and why they were lighting the first candle on the menorah.

He had her small tiny hand wrapped in his as they held the longest candle over the first wick, and Victoria blinked, wide-eyed as the candle flickered to life, the light shining out of your window for all who looked up to see.

You were stealthy enough to snap a few photos and snag a video of Marc having this sweet moment with your daughter, his smile illuminated by the light of the menorah; the corners of his eyes crinkled and his eyes glowing as Victoria asked him this and that, why the candle was shaped funny, why they needed to light eight other candles with the biggest one, why it was celebrated to begin with...

All three men had adapted to her curiosity remarkably quickly. Marc enjoyed teaching her things, doing things with her that he wished his parents did with him after the death of his brother.

Even his father stopped including him in special moments like these after a while. Whenever the menorah was lit, Marc remembered sitting in the pitch blackness of his room, looking out onto the streets below, seeing couples and happy families go about their holiday plans, play, and simply enjoy being around one another.

All the things Marc could no longer enjoy without his mother tainting them with her alcoholism and abuse. His father kept promising to get her help, to make her "better" but he never did.

Marc would always come home from school (or running away for a few hours or days) to the sound of a cracking belt, feeling the welts, the bruises, and even the occasional burns from cigarettes his mother never smoked. No, she wouldn't smoke them recreationally, they were merely another tool to vent her anger and abuse on poor little Marc (and of course Steven and Jake).

And his father still sat by, pretending he didn't hear the snaps, the sound of leather on skin or the crying of his now-only son, and the cruel, hateful words of his wife.

If you buried your head in the sand, you could pretend it wasn't happening at all.

Which is how his poor young mind fractured in the first place...

But no. Marc wouldn't focus on those times, not around Victoria, not with her. Marc vowed that he would be everything he never had as a child, that he would give her his all. Steven and Jake made the same oath; one they took more seriously even than their servitude to Khonshu.

Love could be stronger than fear, if you let it. And your boys were letting it be stronger, for the first time in their lives.

Love and safety.

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

"So... You celebrate Christmas but don't celebrate it?" Jake had asked you curiously as he watched you fight to untangle the multi-colored lights you pulled down from the hall closet.

"Huh? Oh, yeah." You say awkwardly, looking at him with a smile on your lips. "I've never attached religious significance to most holidays, honestly. They're just... special days to celebrate for me. And it's a bit more fair to Victoria, because it's hard for her to understand that other people celebrate Christmas or--until recently anyways--Hanukkah."

Jake leaned over, resting his chin on your shoulder as he looked down, "Hmmh. So you just celebrate it for the sake of it?"

"Yeah, plus Victoria loves decorating the tree every year." You sigh, reaching up to comb your fingers through his hair, earning a content hum from him.

He'd decided not to grow out a mustache this time, staying clean-shaven for the time being.

He slipped his arms around your waist, his thumbs brushing your stomach idly as he watched you battle with the stubborn cables.

"...I say we toss those damn things and get new ones." He snorted. "Saves the trouble."

"I know, but Victoria loves this colour, and I can't find them anywhere else in stores this late in the season." You sigh.

"C'mon, amor, sit on the couch and I'll help undo them."

"God, what would I do without you guys?" You groan while you turn your head to kiss his cheek.

He'd pulled you around and tipped your head back to capture your lips with his, of course. Jake was a very adamant kisser; he put his lips and tongue into each second of every kiss.

Marc was gentle, content to give a long kiss comprised of the dancing of lips; Steven was a bit more chaste, he was happy to litter your entire face in sweet, soft kisses.

Your lips broke apart and you leaned in to bite his bottom lip for a moment, tugging as you pulled away in reprimand.

"C'mon, you horny devil. I want these undone before she wakes up from her nap."

Jake grinned widely as you twisted free of his hands, sauntering over to the couch with exaggerated sways of your hips.

Jake would have to ensure that Victoria was deep in sleep, tonight, for sure.

Thankfully you got the lights untangled in time for her to jump to her little feet and rush into Jake's lap--even going so far as to dart between your legs just to get to him faster!

You snickered and feigned a broken heart, sequestering yourself to the kitchen to prep lunch in mock-sadness.

You were busy wrapping the hot dogs in the doughy wrap for Victoria's lunch, and you paused your hands as you lined the tray when you heard Jake talk to Victoria; holding her up in his strong hands as he walked her around the tree, letting her wrap it in the pretty yellow lights.

That's when you heard it: he was singing to her.

It was a song you knew intimately by now: La Vida Es Luna. After she'd watched that Puss in Boots movie, she would play it on her tablet on repeat. Thanks to Jake's knowledge, he was slowly teaching her to flawlessly sing it in Spanish, like he was right now.

Their voices conjoined were sweet, even if Victoria was a little tone-deaf at some parts, and your heart throbbed as Jake would laugh with her and gently correct her pronunciations.

Love and joy.

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Steven had to work hard to earn a favor from Donna, and one of the other managers, but he'd managed to snag permission to bring Victoria to work with him as an early Christmas/Hanukkah present for her.

She was thrilled. Steven thought she was going to vibrate out of her seat on the bus with excitement.

Even if she knew that he would be working most of the time, and they were both stuck in the gift shop, Victoria was just happy to spend time with Steven and talk about their mutual obsession with ancient Egypt.

Donna at first didn't believe Steven when he told her that he was dating a single mother, she even laughed at him and said she'd get off his back if he produced said child.

And boy, seeing the look of horror and recognition on her face as he came in with a little girl dangling off his arm?

Priceless.

"Papa." Victoria asked Steven as he was stocking the front counter.

"What is it, poppet?" Steven smiled at her.

"Why does 'Shu only got the birdy skull?"

Steven always had to suppress the urge to laugh when she called him that. Khonshu wasn't one for nicknames and oh, did it bring him joy to hear him merely be demoted to "'Shu" in the eyes of a child.

"Cause in my books he's got feathers n stuffs, or sometimes he's got blue skin or somefin'."

"I don't rightly know, m'love." Steven said sweetly, booping her nose. "Maybe he thinks it makes him look cooler? Spooky, certainly."

"Mebbe." She sighed, pouting in thought. "But I 'fink it's just cause he's so old." She replied. "Cause he's older than my mommy and you."

Steven finally couldn't hold it in, and busted out into laughter, having to sit on his haunches and hold his gut as his muscles ached from his fit. Victoria tilted her head at him curiously as his laughter died down into choked gasps and he wiped away a small tear from his cheek.

"Oh, oh I just have to tell your mother that." He sighed, looking at her with a grin.

Victoria tilted her head to the other side, her lips pursing. "But papa, I'm serious."

"I know, love." He chuckled, pulling her close to kiss her forehead. "It's just so funny to hear you compare us to that bloody ol' pigeon."

"But he's not a pigeon!"

Steven snickered again as he went back to work.

It was about thirty minutes later when a group of secondary school students came pouring in from their field trip to the museum.

The girls chattering obnoxiously about some topic or another online, the boys being rambunctious. All the sudden loud noises had Steven wanting to chew his nails off, but he resisted the urge hardcore not to do it. He was succeeding, but didn't need much more effort when he looked over and saw Victoria start to squirm from her little box fort behind the counter, frowning and lip wobbling as the students so callously destroyed the organized shop Steven had painstakingly arranged (with her help, in some parts!) and made such a ruckus.

Steven could see she was close to melting down, by how her little hands reached up, one gripping at her hair and the other smacking her leg as she made little noises.

Steven immediately forgot his own discomfort and knelt down in front of her, pulling her hand gently from where it was fisted in her hair and holding it in his larger one, bringing her in to brush his nose against hers a couple of times as she whimpered.

He smiled gingerly and placed her little headphones on her head (the new ones that had stickers of toys called Squishmallows that Victoria had introduced him to. He had even started his own tiny collection of them because of how soft and adorable they were).

He grabbed her tablet and played her usual list of music. It soothed her somewhat as all sound from outside the muffs were bled out thanks to the tunes, but she was still upset at all the people suddenly being around her like buzzing insects.

As ironic as it was, Steven despised large influxes of people. Before, he was too tired to pay them any mind. After he found out about Marc and Jake and they all arranged a better fronting schedule, Steven was given more time to rest as a result and only became far more aware of how large gatherings made him uncomfortable and twitchy.

But right now Victoria was more important than himself, so he scooped her up and held her against him. He knew he could do his job of ringing up customers with one hand while the other held Victoria to comfort her. After all, his body was fit and strong and she was a tiny little thing.

He wagered he's held boxes of stuffed animals heavier than her, before.

Of course, being an attractive man with such a sweet disposition and adorable little girl on his hip... he had become a blip on the radar of the women and teen girls flitting about the shop.

Apparently having good looks and the outward appearance of a man who loved children was attractive to many.

He was mostly clueless to under-the-radar flirting, but right now two of the girls were being positively shameless in how they hung on his every word.

Their voices started to blur together as they took turns speaking, their teacher (whom talked loudly about her divorce to emphasize the fact she was indeed, single) would cut in, tapping her nails on the counter as she leaned in, smiling with her obnoxiously bright scarlet lipstick and batting her heavy mascara'd eyelashes at him.

However, these girls and women seemed to entirely disregard how uncomfortable Victoria was, or how upset she was as she sniffled and rubbed her face on his soft shirt. All that did was earn sweet coos from them as they noted how "affectionate" she was.

He gritted his teeth, wanting so badly to run away from this awkward conversation with Victoria in tow, but his need for this job kept his feet rooted to the ground. That, and his own bubbling upset that was beginning to simmer within him. He could even feel Jake's consciousness begin to float to the surface to see what was happening.

"So, you must be divorced, right?" The teacher laughed as she shoo'd away the younger girls, wanting to circle this kill for herself.

His brow twitched as he reached up to pat Victoria on her back to soothe her with his free hand. "Well, actually--"

"It must be so hard to handle her on your own!" She sighed, finally taking note of the child's discomfort.

"Did her mom leave her? Because she's special?"

Steven felt his eye twinge a bit, and his jaw clenched. "Well, no. Her mom is--"

"Oh, did she cheat or something? I can't help but notice that little thing on your hip doesn't bear any resemblance to you." She interrupted once more.

"No, Victoria isn't mine. Her mother--"

"So she did cheat?! How horrible!" The woman gasped, drawing her own conclusions as she clutched her imaginary pearls.

"I would never do that to a child! If I was her mother--"

No. Nope. That was it. Her first comment about Victoria was enough to bring his rarely seen anger to the surface, but now she was insulting the both of you. That was enough to make the tips of his ears burn.

All because she wanted to flirt with him? No, his family was off limits in any regard.

"Victoria isn't "special" as you mean her to be. She's autistic, like me." Steven huffed, frowning deeply.

The woman clapped her obnoxiously made-up lips shut as Steven continued.

"And Victoria doesn't look like me because she isn't mine. Biologically." He informed, adjusting his hold on her as she continued to rub her face on him.

"Victoria's father abandoned her and her mother before she was born. I am currently dating her mother."

The way this woman deflated filled him with such an ego boost, he finally knew how Jake felt when he'd won an argument over Khonshu. The rush was just that good.

It seemed she wasn't expecting that.

"Oh, so her mother is..."

"Dating me and happily committed." He said with a jerk of his head downwards. "Now, ma'am, do you intend to make a purchase, or do you intend to hold up the line building behind you for this till and cost me my job?"

Her face flushed scarlet and she began to sputter, scowling at Steven as he politely told her to buzz off.

"Have a nice day!" Steven called out as she walked away, her horrible perfume following alongside her.

Steven felt victorious as he gave the little girl in his arms a kiss to her forehead.

Love and loyalty.

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Victoria was happily tucked into her bed, fast asleep thanks to Khonshu regaling her with a story of one of his previous Fists fighting evil doers in the sands of the desert.

He omitted the violence, thankfully, and merely settled for a cliché "the hero scared the villain into being good" trope for the ending, as per your wishes.

He did not want that broom lodged in his eye socket again.

"So... Did Steven tell you some woman tried to hit on him?" Marc asked you as you brushed your teeth, your wonderful skin still dewy from the shower, your body clad only in a fluffy pink and blue striped towel. Christmas day was in the morning and you wanted to look somewhat presentable when you recorded the gift opening when the sun came up.

You almost choked on your toothpaste as you yanked the brush free.

"What?"

"Yeah, some teacher." Marc grinned at you as he ruffled his own damp hair from the towel. He knew your legs were still shaky from your previous romp in the steamy bathroom, but you stood strong until that subject came up.

"What did she say."

"Honestly? From what he said she was being rude. About you, about Victoria, not letting him get a word in..." Marc scoffed as he dropped his towel into his lap.

You spit out the toothpaste and aggressively rinse your mouth out, a pang of jealousy sweeping into you.

"Steven actually told this lady off."

Oh?

"He did? I have a hard time believing Steven can do that..." You murmured, looking at your reflection in the foggy mirror.

"Yeah, but he was insanely passive aggressive with it." Marc laughed, stretching his arms above his head. "Her face got soooo damn red."

You grin as he walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around you, fingers toying with the knot in your towel.

"Hah! Serves her right for talking about my baby." You say triumphantly.

"Serves that woman right for automatically assuming we were into toxic, divorced, Holiday Barbie-looking bimbos." Marc scoffed.

You giggle as he placed kisses to your shoulder, his teeth grazing your damp skin.

"Marc Spector, you are insatiable." You sigh, raking your nails through his damp curls.

"Hey, it's Christmas Eve, don't I get to open a present early?" He murmured into your pulse.

"You're Jewish."

"And I do the work of an Egyptian god and you celebrate Christmas without the religious part." He grinned, tugging on the fluffy towel around you.

"So... do I get to unwrap my present or not?"

[yuoimia]

hii! can i request genshin characters with a s/o that has a lot of plushies.

thx if you did my request and have a nice day 💗

a/n: thanks for the request anon <3 hugs for being patient w/ me!!

aren’t they adorable?

summary: how would they react/act when you have a lot of plushies.

chars: wanderer, albedo, diluc, xiao, zhongli, heizou, ayato, baizhu, alhaitham, cyno, tighnari, thoma, kaeya, itto, kazuha, childe, kaveh.

warnings: gn reader, mentions of jealousy, sfw, established relationship. FORMATTING WILL BE WEIRD TUMBLR IS GLITCHING

loves them just as much as you (or maybe even more) - thoma, kaeya, itto, kazuha, childe, kaveh.

what they think:

it’s cute, you’re cute. you’re happy, they’re happy. simple. of course, it was a bit of a surprise when they found out about your collection. pleasantlysurprised, mind you. they were particularly enraptured by your gentleness with them—the beautiful way your eyes lit with love and care was irresistible. your affection was contagious. suffice to say, they’re also undeniably fixated with it all.

(bonus) what they do:

tea parties! gathers each one of the plushes and arranges them in a cute circle (with space for both of you as well!). you have the whole thing. not just a pretend game, the real deal. the food, the games, and the decorations. it feels just like one too <3 they just like putting a lot of effort into what they do.

will happily buy you more - ayato, baizhu, alhaitham, cyno, tighnari

when they first discovered your collection, one of their first responses was: ‘oh, do you want any more?’

they don’t mind one bit.

on the contrary, they think it’s incredibly wholesome of you. your empathetic and nurturing nature was so admirable and…lovable. these were treasured moments that felt surreal to them. where it felt as if the universe had slowed, the world had brightened, and the storm had opened into a beaming sky. perhaps it’s a bit melodramatic, but they promise you, they’re not exaggerating.

slightly envious - albedo, diluc, xiao, zhongli, heizou

puts on a convincing nonchalant facade. so you have an extensive collection of plushies? that’s all fine by them! but.. you’re showering them with such genuine affection. a lot of it. why?

they won’t outright ask, because it’s slightly embarrassing. jealous? over a few inanimate items? they must be unhinged. yet, the feeling is getting stronger by the day, getting more difficult to shake off with a few self-reassured words that you weren’t in love with the plushies. you were 100% in love with them, and all those displays were just basic compassion.

oh and you, you know how they feel. and maybe, sometimes, you just feel an urge to tease them. cuddling the plushes, kissing them, talking and laughing with them—your lover’s envious looks fuel you up to increase their difficulty. how long can they last?

supposedly “hates” them - wanderer, (idk who else to put here 😭)

gives you a strange and contemptful look whenever they spot you and your "much too many" collection of plushes. they are bold with their words and emotions and are not afraid to explain their 'reasoning' for why you shouldn’t own so many. how it’s hard to take care of, it takes up space…whatever. if you look and listen between the lines of their actions and analyse them a bit further, it could reveal that maybe…they just want to hold them too.

[oinonsana]

realities, maximalism,and the need for big book™️

some gubat banwa design thoughts vomit: since the beginning of its development i've kind of been enraptured with trying to really go for "fiction-first" storytelling because PbtA games really are peak roleplaying for me, but as i wrote and realized that a lot of "fiction first" doesn't work without a proper sort of fictional foundation that everyone agrees on. this is good: this is why there are grounding principles, genre pillars, and other such things in many PbtA games--to guide that.

broken worlds is one of my favs bc of sheer vibes

Gubat Banwa didn't have much in that sense: sure, I use wuxia and xianxia as kind of guideposts, but they're not foundational, they're not pillars of the kind of fiction Gubat Banwa wants to raise up. there wasn't a lot in the sense of genre emulation or in the sense of grounding principles because so much of Gubat Banwa is built on stuff most TTRPG players haven't heard about. hell, it's stuff squirreled away in still being researched academic and anthropological circles, and thanks to the violence of colonialism, even fellow filipinos and seasians don't know about them

this is what brought me back to my ancient hyperfixations, the worlds of Exalted, Glorantha, Artesia, Fading Suns... all of them have these huge tomes of books that existed to put down this vast sprawling fantasy world, right? on top of that are the D&D campaign settings, the Dark Suns and the Eberrons. they were preoccupied in putting down setting, giving ways for people to interact with the world, and making the world alive as much as possible.

one of my main problems with gubat banwa was trying to convey this world that i've seen, glimpsed, dreamed of. this martial fantasy world of rajas and lakans, sailendras and tuns, satariyas and senapatis and panglimas and laksamanas and pandai... its a world that didn't really exist yet, and most references are steeped in either nationalism or lack of resources (slowly changing, now)

i didn't want to fall back into the whole gazeteer tourist kind of shit when it came to writing GB, but it necessitated that the primary guidelines of Gubat Banwa were set down. my approach to it was trying to instill every aspect of the text, from the systems to the fluff text to the way i wrote to the way things were phrased, with the essence of this world i'm trying to put forward. while i wrote GB mainly for me and fellow SEAsian people, economically my main market were those in the first world countries that could afford to buy the book. grokking the book was always going to be severely difficult for someone that didn't have similar cultures, or are uninterested in the complexities of human culture. thus why GB had to be a big book.

in contemporary indie ttrpg spaces (where I mostly float in, though i must admit i pay more attention to SEAsia spaces than the usual US spaces) the common opinion is that big books like Exalted 3e are old hat, or are somewhat inferior to games that can cram their text into short books. i used to be part of that camp--in capitalism, i never have enough time, after all. however, the books that do go big, that have no choice to go big, like Lancer RPG, Runequest, Mage, Exalted are usually the ones that have something really big it needs to tell you, and they might be able to perform the same amount of text-efficient bursting at the seams flavor writing but its still not enough.

thats what happened to GB, which I wanted to be, essentially, a PbtA+4e kind of experience, mechanically speaking. i very soon abandoned those titles when i delved deeper into research, incorporated actual 15th century divination tools in the mechanics, injected everything with Martial Arts flavor as we found our niche

all of this preamble to say that no matter how light i wanted to go with the game, i couldnt go too light or else people won't get it, or i might end up writing 1000 page long tome books explaining every detail of the setting so people get it right. this is why i went heavy on the vibes: its a ttrpg after all. its never gonna be finished.

i couldnt go too light because Gubat Banwa inherently exists on a different reality. think: to many 3 meals a day is the norm and the reality. you have to eat 3 meals a day to function properly. but this might just be a cultural norm of the majority culture, eventually co opted by capitalism to make it so that it can keep selling you things that are "breakfast food" or "dinner food" and whatnot. so its reality to some, while its not reality to others. of course, a lot of this reality-talk pertains mostly to social--there is often a singular shared physical reality we can usually experience*

Gubat Banwa has a different fabric of reality. it inherently has a different flow of things. water doesn't go down because of gravity, but because of the gods that make it move, for example. bad things happen to you because you weren't pious or you didn't do your rituals enough and now your whole community has to suffer. atoms aren't a thing in gb, thermodynamics isn't a real thing. the Laws of Gubat Banwa aren't these physical empirical things but these karmic consequent things

much of the fiction-first movement has a sort of "follow your common sense" mood to it. common sense (something also debatable among philosophers but i dont want to get into that) is mostly however tied to our physical and social realities. but GB is a fantasy world that inherently doesn't center those realities, it centers realities found in myth epics and folk tales and the margins of colonized "civilization", where lightnings can be summoned by oils and you will always get lost in the woods because you don't belong there.

so Gubat Banwa does almost triple duty: it must establish the world, it must establish the intended fiction that arises from that world, and then it must grant ways to enforce that fiction to retain immersion--these three are important to GB's game design because I believe that that game--if it is to not be a settler tourist bonanza--must force the player to contend with it and play with it within its own terms and its own rules. for SEAsians, there's not a lot of friction: we lived these terms and rules forever. don't whistle at night on a thursday, don't eat meat on Good Friday, clap your hands thrice after lighting an incense stick, don't make loud noise in the forests. we're born into that [social] reality

this is why fantasy is so important to me, it allows us to imagine a different reality. the reality (most of us) know right now (i say most of us because the reality in the provinces, the mountains, they're kinda different) is inherently informed by capitalist structures. many people that are angry at capitalist structures cannot fathom a world outside capitalist structures, there are even some leftists and communists that approach leftism and revolution through capitalism, which is inherently destructive (its what leads to reactionaries and liberalism after all). fantasy requires that you imagine something outside of right now. in essence read Ursula K Le Guin

i tweeted out recently that you could pretty easily play 15-16th century Luzon or Visayas with an OSR mechanic setting and William Henry Scott's BARANGAY: SIXTEENTH CENTURY PHILIPPINE CULTURE AND SOCIETY, and I think that's purely because barebones OSR mechanics stuff fits well with the raiding and adventuring that many did in 15-16th century Luzon/Visayas, but a lot of the mechanics wont be comign from OSR, but from Barangay, where you learn about the complicated marriage customs, the debt mechanics, the social classes and stratum...

so thats why GB needs to be a (relatively) big book, and why I can contend that some books need to be big as well--even if their mechanics are relatively easy and dont need more than that, the book, the game, might be trying to relay something even more, might be trying to convey something even more than that. artesia, for example, has its advancements inherently tied to its Tarot Cards, enforcing that the Arcana guides your destiny. runquest has its runes magic, mythras (which is kinda generic) has pretty specific kinds of magic systems that immediately inform the setting. this is why everything is informed by something (this is a common Buddhist principle, dependent arising). even the most generic D&D OSR game will have the trappings of the culture and norms of the one that wrote and worked on it. its written from their reality which might not necessarily be the one others experience. that's what lived experience is, after all

*live in the provinces for a while and you'll doubt this too!

[captainpulisic]

is it cool that I said all that? - c. pulisic

this is me manifesting reputation tv + this is an old draft I just finished up so it takes place abt a year ago when they were all still at chelsea

wc: 1.7 k , gif credits to to owner

it was routine at this point. and very frustrating for everyone that had to bear witness to the shameless flirting you and christian participated in every time your paths crossed. 

it had started with occasionally bumping into each other at parties- you ran in the same circles, it was bound to happen. you’d spend the whole night tucked away in a corner, whispering and lightly brushing against each other. any girls vying for his attention that night were fighting a losing battle, christian too enraptured with refilling your drink and getting to know every detail about you. countless times girls had come up to the two of you, keen on winning his attention and luring him away, only to roll their eyes and stomp away when he paid them no mind. he never even noticed, too caught up in whatever you were saying, his pinky brushing against your hand. 

all his teammates would laugh at how he’d always been reluctant to come to these parties, yet having found you, was now the first to show up. he now spent the weekdays waiting for the weekend, counting the minutes until he’d see your warm eyes and bright smile. but it never amounted to anything more, both of you too shy to make a move. when the night would wind down and the party would clear up, you’d smile and bid farewell until the next party. 

when this became too tedious and christian too desperate to see you again, he decided to man up and be the one to dm you. enough was enough and he wasn’t going to get by on biweekly encounters and social media stalking you on the daily. from there, a streak of flirty messages and late night talking began. yet, again, nothing more came from it.

“just man up and ask her out,” ben bugged at him- having caught christian smiling down at his phone too many times.

one night, after a day of nonstop texting (yes, he had upgraded from dms to getting your number), you had let it slip that you’d never been to a match since relocating to london. you’d been eager to go but had never had a good enough push to actually do it. instantly he had invited you to the next match at the bridge, swearing it'd be a worthwhile experience.

it’s a date, christian replied and you both went to sleep that night with stupid grins. 

fast forward a week later, the day of the match, and you’d spent the morning jumpy with nerves. was it really a date or had he just called it one in the midst of the moment? what if it was like a friend date? cue the nerves amping up. 

your knees felt a little woozy when you recalled the phone call just last night (yes, phone calls between the two of you were a thing now, too). you’d stay up well into morning hours, talking on the phone, him recounting training days and you complaining about uni work. before hanging up, he softly said through the receiver, “I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.” 

and christian had stuck true to his word, the match and experience as surreal as you had hoped. the rut chelsea had been in recently was irrelevant, them managing to actually win the match- the first win in weeks. you were quite embarrassed at how you spent the entire time fawning over christian. seeing him play, all in his element, left you with heated cheeks and a thumping heart.  

after the game, you follow the instructions he had left for you to find your way down to him. after twists and turns in tunnels and important looking halls, you’d found the outside of the locker room. politely smiling at some girls you’d recognized from the parties, you hung in the back, nerves of seeing christian began bubbling inside of you. as players filed out, one by one, each greeted their waiting girlfriends and invitees. every guy out was one step closer to finally seeing him. 

after what seemed like an eternity, there he was. catching eyes at the same time, his handsome face broke into a smile, managing to tug at every one of your heartstrings. in few strides, he’s standing in front of you, his hand stretched out for you. pulling you to the far side of the room, to a hidden nook, you’re away from the eyes and ear of everyone else there. 

“hi,” looking down at you. “thank you for coming.” 

mirroring his lovesick smile, “of course. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.” 

neither you nor christian remark on the fact that he hadn’t let go of your hand yet. and his brown eyes are staring intently into yours as he gives your hand a squeeze, “what did you think? was it everything you expected?”

“yeah, it was amazing.” you breathe out, trying hard to fight the smile on your face. you’re sure it looks quite silly, both of you with reddened cheeks and shy laughter. making yourself admit to him, “you were amazing.”

this causes christian to beam, his smile getting even wider (as if it were any more possible). he’s unsure of what to say, of what to do. 

he wants to play the modest role and say that he was just doing his job, it was a team effort. he also wants to tell you that he had been trying to show off, well aware that you were somewhere in the stands watching him. he wants to tell you that he hardly slept last night, too nervous over the idea of seeing you today. he also wanted to tell you that you’re always in his head, consuming all his thoughts. or, maybe, he just wants to kiss you. yes, he could tell you all that stuff some other day. right now, all he wants to do is kiss your pretty face and never stop. 

he takes this time to really look you over. from the minute he stepped out of the locker room and spotted you, he hadn’t lost you from his sight. travelling from your eyes to the slope of your nose and down to your lips, he couldn’t get enough of you. 

and from there, is where his attention was brought to the blue fabric around your neck. gaze going down, for the first time, he notices that you’re wearing a chelsea jersey. christian chastises himself, too caught up in her pretty face that you hadn’t seen what she was wearing, idiot? 

his unoccupied hand reaches to touch the part of the shirt closest to your neck. that color blue looked so lovely on you. it’s more of a whisper to himself, “I didn’t know you had a jersey.”

“well I didn’t,” it’s now your turn to beam. too caught up basking in his presence, you'd forgotten all about your little prematch endeavour. you were half nervous he wouldn’t care but half excited that maybe he’d love it. “but I got here early and decided to look around the store. I found something I really liked and had to buy, yanno?” 

ignoring his furrowed brow and confused stare, you let go of his hand to turn around. your back facing him, christian is met with a neatly stitched ‘10’ and ‘pulisic’. 

“you bought my jersey?” he’s dumbfounded, all he can do is stare at his name and number sprawled on your back. finding your hand again, he turns you face to face, again. christian was unsure of what to say, too many emotions going through his head and heart. “I coulda gotten you one for free, you didn’t have to spend your money on it.” 

shaking your head, “nuh-uh, do you know how cool I felt going up to the register with your jersey? the lady working even asked if you were my favorite player.” 

“yeah?” christian felt the two of you getting closer with every word said. as if there was some sort of magnetic force pushing you together, there were only mere inches separating you guys. one hand still holding yours, he let the other settle on your waist. it felt electric, it felt right. his mind flashed with the image of his name on your back, something possessive being awoken in him. “and what did you tell her?”

you pause for a moment, putting on your best poker face. in your most serious voice, “told her no. that mason mounts jersey was sold out so I had to settle for yours.”

instantly his smile drops and there’s a pinch to your hip where some skin was exposed. when did his hand get there? a pout on his lips, “you’re terrible. that was-” 

“a joke,” now you leave a pinch on his cheek. a slight scoff and a glance towards mason on the other side of the room, “mason couldn’t pay me all the money in the world to wear his jersey.” 

“good.” still pouting, he gets even closer with every word. being this close to him, you’re able to count every freckle on his cheeks and the stars in his eyes. both hands on your hips now, “because I don’t wanna share.” 

“well lucky for you, pulisic,” another inch closer, “I don’t want to be shared.” 

lips practically touching, your hands reach to cup his face. from there, you pull him down as you go up on your tiptoes. everything else seemed to fade out as your lips moved together. no rush or urgency, just softness and words unspoken. who needed words? words and confessions could be said later. 

too lost in each other, the two of you were unaware of mason and bens nosey stares. shaking his head at the scene in front of them, ben holds his hand out. “alright, he finally made his move and they’re snogging. pay up.”

“no way!” mason scoffs, “the bet was that he had to make the first move. she practically jumped his bones.”

“bloody specifics,” ben mutters as he opens his wallet and hands mason the 200 (unjustly, in his opinion) owed pounds. 

what? if they had to suffer and watch two idiots fail to flirt, they were going to make some money out of it.

just wanted to post something before the semester started and i got swamped w schoolwork :) like always, feedback is really appreciated, thank you!

[strgrlxox]

pretty little thing.

✟ ꙳ original request here ! i've been so excited to write for college!james and this was the perfect chance 😘💋❞¸

+ ¸ ❞ this is literally just be not knowing how sports/college sports work for abt 800 words ꙳ ✟

he was so nervous beforehand, of course he tried to pretend like he wasn’t but he knew him better than that. it was the first game of the year and james, who got a scholarship for playing this very sport, felt like he was the worst on the team.

when he was still in school, playing against other teenagers, it was easier to be better than everyone else. now, he felt like all his talents were nothing short of average. 

you tried to comfort him as best as you could and it helped most of the time, but right now as you watched james pace around his dorm room, you weren’t even sure if it would work.

“james, it’ll be fine, love.” you smile at him from your spot on the edge of his bed. “you’ll do great, know you will.”

he couldn’t even process your words, his nerves eating at him. so you try a different method, standing from the bed and smoothing down your glittery skirt. you stand in front of him and he doesn’t even look your way until you grab both sides of his face and pull him towards you. lips meeting his because he could always kiss you and make you forget everything––how to stand and how to breathe. sometimes, he’d kiss you and you’d forget about all the air in the world except for what was in his lungs. he filled you with his love and got you drunk off his tender kisses. you only hoped you could provide him the same comfort. you place a hand on his chest, smiling into his mouth when you feel his heartbeat calm down. you release his mouth, still smiling at him, “you’ll do great, jamie.”

and he did. he scored at the last seconds and they won the game. you were so proud.

you had hugged and kissed him afterwards, “i told you so’s” dripping from your lips. he kissed you again, making you feel all dizzy.

he took you back to his dorm room after you promised to stay the night. he’d put you on his bed, the still-fresh adrenaline leaking from his veins––––too enraptured with you and your body to care about the aching in his bones. 

“you were so good out there, angel.” he kissed up your neck, letting his hands trail up your skirt. you laugh at the fact that he was praising you for your cheers when he was the reason the team won the game. 

“no, you were so good.” you try to hold back moans with the way his lips felt trailing on his skin panting out loud instead. “i barely blinked so that i could watch the whole thing.”

he shoots you a look, his eyebrows raised. “oh, yeah? what’d you think?” 

“took everything not to drop my pompoms and kiss you when you scored those points at the end.”

“hmm, maybe you should have just done it.” he smiles into your flesh and it’s contagious. “would’ve loved it if everyone knew that i got so lucky to be able to call the prettiest cheerleader mine.”

he looked at you with lust blown eyes and you couldn’t help but grow excited, even if you knew he was worn out already. “james, you’re probably exhausted.”

he laughed, “not yet.”

which is how you ended up with your legs on his shoulders while he pounded into you relentlessly.

“s'like this is my reward for doing so well, hm?” his tone is so condescendingly sweet. “best prize in the world.”

he told you to leave your skirt on, opting to just pull it up instead of removing it completely. his eyes are trained to the way the shimmering cloth moves as he thrusted into you…seeing you in his colors especially after he won the game did something to him.

“tell me how good i did.” he’d pant above you and you can barely fucking a reply, it’s more of a moan actually…something akin to “so good, jamie.”

“say it again.” he moaned out, the sound making you clench around him. “come on, pretty little thing. one more time, please? needa hear it.”

‘so fucking good, jamie. you did s––oh shit.” your words get caught in your throat when he thrusts into you deeper. “fuck, james you’re doing so good.”

he can’t help but chuckle at how far gone you are, loving how only he could get you like this.

“you like being my prize, don’t you?” he’s teasing and you love it. he’s fucking you out of your mind so you can’t even answer his question so instead you just moan louder while he fucks with every once of his remaining energy.

“god, i love you. my little cheerleader.”

[rollingsins]

the drabble files, p1

p1 | p2

summary: If you're not counting the murder, Tara's most toxic trait is her hatred of your favorite artist.  

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, mention of murder, mention of sex, strong anti-ariana grande rhetoric.

word count: 800 words.

a/n: going to start a mini-series of all hers drabbles that will all loosely exists within the universe. this one is set around part iv (pre-Wes)

 “Could you at least pretend to enjoy it?” You yell over the blare of the music.

You’re standing in the nosebleeds of an Ariana Grande concert. A concert you’d saved up a lot of money to go to. Stashing away birthday money, weeks of allowance.

And it’s amazing. The lights. The music. Ariana. 

Except for one thing. 

Tara’s been standing next to you the entire night pouting, her arms crossed, her stance stony. Like a boyfriend at a women’s clothing shop, or your Dad waiting for your Mom to get her nails done. 

Like she clearly would rather be anywhere else. 

“Then you’d think I approve of this garbage, which I do not.” She says, nose tilted slightly. Her tone betraying her hatred, “It’s awful, teeny-bopping nonsense.” She pauses, “And she’s not even that pretty.” 

She is Ariana Grande herself. 

Your favorite artist and Tara’s number one enemy. You'd vaguely mentioned once you thought she was cute.

And Tara had hated her ever since.

Angrily switching the radio station whenever one of her songs came on. Flipping the channel anytime she was on a talk show. You’d even once caught her trying to throw all of Ariana’s vogue covers in the garbage at the grocery store. 

It’s ridiculous. 

“You have nothing to worry about babe. As if Ariana would ever give me a shot.” You’d teased on the way home. 

Maybe the wrong thing to say. She’d angrily stopped the car and thrown you into the backseat.

Then fucked you so hard it made the car squeak. 

But that was months ago, you’d thought she would have gotten over it by now. 

You groan. Try to tug at Tara’s arm to loosen her up. 

“Baby, please. You know how much I saved up for this. If I had known you were going to be such a grinch the whole night, I would have invited Liv instead.” 

That she doesn’t like at all. 

She stares at you through the fog of the rainbow colored lights. 

“Liv?” She says, disbelief on her face, “Liv?” 

“Not too late to text her,” You warn, waving your phone about, “You better get dancing.” 

Tara narrows her eyes. She leans in close, giving up her crossed arms to wrap an arm around your waist. 

“Bathroom.” She says, voice low, dangerous, “Now. You’re about to get fucked so hard you won’t even remember the name of that tone-deaf, spray-tanned oompa-loompa.” She gestures wildly to the stage. 

You hum. Press a kiss to her cheek. 

“No thanks.” 

Tara blinks back at you. 

“No thanks?”

“I’m watching the show,” You say. You wrap and arm around her shoulder, nuzzle your nose to her cheek, “I’ve got to support my other girlfriend, babe.” 

It’s a dangerous game you’re playing. But you can’t help it. Tara’s grudge is so ridiculous it’s hard not to make fun of her for it. Her hand tightens around your waist. She grips you so hard you wince. 

“You think this is funny?” She growls. There’s fire behind her eyes, “You won’t be laughing when I sneak into her dressing room and slit her throat ear from ear-”

Your eyes widen. You smack your hand over her mouth. 

“Tara,” You hiss, looking around, “There’s children here.” 

They don’t seem to have noticed your girlfriend threatening to carve up their favorite pop star. Too enraptured by the music. Tara bats your hand away. 

“Bathroom.” She insists. 

“I’m not fucking you in a bathroom at a concert,” You say, voice flat.

“Oh, you’ll be the one getting fucked, I assure you.” She says, eyes wild.

You look at her, all worked up and fiery-eyed and sigh. You lean down and press a kiss to her cheek, stroking her hair out of her eyes. 

“I’m kidding, baby. You know you’re the only one for me,” You say, “I just like her music, is all.”

It doesn’t relax her. Her eyebrows are furrowed, and she’s still staring at you like she’s about to throw you down and make you hers right in front of Ariana and forty thousand other people. 

You press a gentle kiss to her lips. 

“When we get home you can do whatever you want to me,” You promise, “But not unless you loosen up and let me enjoy the concert.”

Her lip twitches. 

“Please, baby.” 

She stares at you for a long moment, eyes still guarded. 

“I’m not dancing.” She says, voice tight. 

“You don’t have to dance, you just have to stop standing there like an axe murderer.” You negotiate. 

She considers this. 

“Fine,” She says. She leans in, presses a kiss to your lips, “But when we get home, I’m tying you up and pounding you so hard you forget her name.”

Your stomach flips. 

The crowd screams. The music blares your favorite song, but Tara’s promise is all the only thing you hear. 

“Deal.”

[thedeviltohisangel]

All The Things I Did (3): Don't Leave Me Alone

chronology: chapter 1 chapter 2 interlude 1 chapter 3 interlude 2

a/n: well well well. here i am again. not as sad as interlude 2 i promise. i put them in chronologic order up top for all the new fans of this fic. focusing on gale and cass this chapter. i've appreciated all the screams in my ask box (i will explain anything about spook x bucky i've got going on in my head whenever you want, shoot me a dm) and will work on more interludes this weekend. keep the prompts coming! good a good mix of current & post war bucky x spook. love you guys and enjoy this longer one in celly of the finale.

Of all the places for them to bump into each other, no one should have been surprised it was in the base library. It was small and quiet and didn’t have the nicest lighting. But it had plenty of books on plenty of topics and very few people ever frequented it. Normally, it was her place to unwind and seek solace. Breathe in the scent of the worn bindings and get lost for a few hours. Cass wasn’t sure if John even knew it existed so it only made sense that this is where Gale would find her first.

Gale Cleven had been in communication with John Egan since their first day of basic training. Had watch him fly and crash on occasion. Watched him flirt and dance and take girls home. Only a few times had watched him give a piece of his heart and never once had he watched it go anywhere. When he had sent him the unicorn to pass along as an apology to a bar owner in Greenland, John had written one line at the end that made him more confused than the figurine had. A little note at the bottom: P.S. I think I’ve found my girl. 

Gale hadn’t known then, wouldn’t know for awhile, that Bucky had only seen her across the airfield when he had written that. Hadn’t even spoken a word to her. Had taken one look at the way every man on that base stopped and parted for her. One look at the way she navigated herself around the airfield while never looking up from the paper in front of her. John Egan had been gone like a freight train.

“Excuse me, Lieutenant Cooper?” She was in an armchair in the back of the library, curled up as much as her uniform would allow, thumbing through a book on Prussian history with two others opened and balancing precariously on either side of her and a stack of yet-to-be-read books piled on the floor. “I don’t mean to intrude. I just thought I’d introduce myself. Gale Cleven, friends call me Buck.” 

“My friends call me Cass.” She shook his hand as firmly as she could, her right arm in a sling. “You know, John has a whole thing planned for us to meet. He’ll be heartbroken.” Him and Cass had spent the night on a blanket in the flowers, just like she had wanted upon her return. He told her all about his best friend Buck and that introducing her to him was almost like her meeting his sisters or mother. Joked that she needed Buck’s approval before he could take her on another date.

“We can work on our story. Let him still have his moment.” Cass smiled and motioned for Gale to take the chair next to her. She placed a notecard between the pages to keep her place before giving him her full attention. 

“I’m sorry your first impression of me was when I got off that plane yesterday. I promise I’m not always that dramatic.” Gale laughed. The swelling in her eye had gone down slightly and there was color back to her cheeks. Maybe a couple of new bruises on her neck but he assumed his friend was more likely the culprit of those than the secret police.

“I barely noticed over the commotion of Bucky.”

“I wasn’t expecting that,” she noted shyly. All of a sudden her fingernails were much easier to look at than Buck’s gaze.

“I’ve known Bucky, John, a long time. You’ve enraptured him, Lieutenant.” Gale hadn’t expected such a reaction either. Bucky had always been somewhat impulsive, sure, but always with a personal gain in mind. Win the bet. Win the girl. Win the game. But yesterday had been near primal. A base instinct to protect. To put himself in between her and those who would do her harm. It had come as natural as breathing.

“Your word choice is inspiring, Major Cleven.” Her eyes twinkled. She knew.

“Has he serenaded you yet? Then you’ll really be inspired.” 

“I don’t know if that is what I would call it. I haven’t worked my way to that level of affection yet.” He thought back to the desperation in John’s voice when he called Cass’ name yesterday. Thought back to the venom that replaced it when someone got in the way of him reaching her. 

“I’m sure it’s only a matter of time.” She ducked away from his gaze again.

“Don’t tell him I’m telling you this, but I’m pretty enraptured by him, too.” Gale reached over and squeezed her hand, locking the secret between them, and stood up to let her get back to her reading and to find the book he had come here looking for in the first place. “Cass? I’ve got a favor to ask. It’s kind of a big one.”

“Something wrong, Buck?” 

“No. Just something that’s been on my mind since he left.” He mulled over the words for a moment. “He’s got a big heart. Does a good job at hiding it. I’ve been doing my best to protect it since the day I met him but if something happens to me up there…”

“You don’t even need to ask, Gale.” She would be his armor. Protect John Egan the way her soul had told her she should from the second she laid eyes on him. Had recognized the purity within him and felt the need to protect it. Cassandra Ann Cooper had been gone for John Egan the moment he stepped foot in England.

Gale nodded in appreciation. “I’ll see you at dinner tonight.” He walked to a shelf out of her sightline and Cass sighed deeply. She had faced down some scary people. But that interaction had her stomach in more knots than any of them. She had met, and talked to, and hadn’t made a fool of herself in front of, Major Gale Cleven. Cass smiled. John was going to be so happy when he found out.

----

The man in question was having a bit of a devious streak. Decided he was going to be early to pick up Cass instead of simply on time. Decided, after five minutes of waiting, that it had been too long since he last kissed her. Mary rolled her eyes when he came strolling in, thinking better of it when she opened her mouth to ask what he was up to. 

“Mary, I swear if Major Egan is early, tell him I’m not ready.” He smiled as he heard Cass answer his knock.

“Too late, Spook. Let me in so I can see whatever potions you're brewing to look so goddamn beautiful.”

“Are you calling me a witch?” Her voice was closer this time. John pressed his palm to the door where he imagined hers was.

“I miss your face,” he provided simply.

“I have curlers in my hair.” Her mother had never let her father see her with her curlers in. Even after thirty or so years of marriage. Told Cass it took away the allure of femininity. 

“Good. I’ve been imagining what you might look like in my bed in the morning-” He almost fell through the door when she opened it, her fist around his tie and all confidence choking off in his throat. 

“No remarks like that in the hallway where anyone can hear you.” Cass sat back down at her vanity for the finishing touches of mascara and powder. 

“Afraid they won’t find you so spooky anymore?” There weren’t too many artifacts of her life for him to look at. Photos of what she presumed were her parents and her siblings. A pile of letters with a return address in South Carolina. A jewelry box on top of her dresser.

“I don’t mind the nickname. I never had one growing up.” John stopped to admire her in the mirror as she pulled the curlers from her hair. He swallowed. It did look like he imagined she would be waking up next to him. How she would be after spending the night letting him worship her.

“Hey, wait on that for a second.” Cass put the tube of lipstick down and looked at him with a question across her brow. “Don’t want to mess it up when I kiss you.” She smiled and crooked her finger to beckon him forward, standing on her vanity chair as he got closer.

“So handsome,” she sighed as she took the opportunity of her newfound height to really take him in. She knows he would disagree but Cass found something ethereally beautiful about John Egan. The slope of his nose and the angles of his cheeks. The soft hair on his upper lip that she had found such joy in kissing. 

“I’m glad you think so.” He started with just a quick peck, enjoying the look of annoyance on her face. 

“That’s not worth holding up my lipstick application for.” John took that as a challenge. He felt guilty for only a second as he tangled his fingers into the curls at the back of her head and held her steady. John was trying to be mindful of the healing cut on her lip but she was pushing herself closer and closer and he had no choice but to give her more and more. It wasn’t slow. It was a spark spinning itself into a fire. An ember catching fire on all the things around it. He was a man starved for her oasis. She was a girl all too eager to tantalize him in the desert. 

John slid his arms to wrap tightly around her waist, lifting her against his body and turning so her back was against the wall. Instinctually, she wrapped her legs around his waist and gasped into his mouth at the sensation. “Fuck, Cass.” 

“John, we have to slow down.” She was enjoying his lips that had moved to her throat all much. Was so flushed with desire for him that beads of sweat were collecting in her collarbone. Cass unwrapped her legs from around his waist and John smiled with pride when her knees buckled ever so slightly. 

“You’re right. Do this the right way. The slow way.” He straightened his tie and bent down when Cass reached up to fix his hair.

“Doesn’t have to be slow forever. Sir.” She knew exactly what she was doing when she said it. Relished in the way it made his eyes darken with lust again immediately. “We’re going to be late to dinner. And I already made a literally bloody first impression with Gale.” 

“Come to think of it,” he noted as she expertly coated the red pigment around her lips, “it might’ve been more fun to try and kiss it off of you, Lieutenant.” 

“There’s always later.” 

He watched her hips sway to the Jeep, held her hand while he drove and smiled so wide it hurt when she slid across the bench and kissed his cheek. It all felt so normal. Felt like he was back home taking a girl to a movie and milkshakes on a Friday night. Felt like being with her was exactly where he was meant to be.

“Before you ask, no, we are not going back to the pub tonight.”

“Oh?” she asked as they drove right past. “Our memories from the other night incapable of being topped?”

“Just thought we would meet him somewhere nicer. This little bistro up the way a little bit.” 

“John Egan, are you nervous?” 

“Maybe.” She laughed but snuggled into his side. 

“It’s very sweet that you love Gale so much.”

“Don’t tell him. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.” Cass thought back to her conversation with Gale in the library. About the mushy heart right behind the very ribcage her cheek was resting against. 

“You know, I’ve been told I’m good at keeping secrets.”

----

Gale watched from the window by the table as John’s Jeep pulled into view, smiling to himself as Cass held his friend’s and kissed him. Stayed close to whisper reassuring words and knock his nose against hers to seal the promise.

“Bucky you lucky son of a bitch,” he muttered. They held hands as they walked in and when she let go to shake Gale’s hand, firmer this time as the sling hadn’t gone with her dress, John had kept his hand on the small of her back. Looking back on it, Gale doesn’t think there was a moment the whole night they weren’t touching. 

“Cass, this is the best man I’ve ever met, Major Gale Cleven. But I call him Buck.”

“Gave everyone else no choice but to call me Buck, too.” John pulled her chair out for her and pushed it in, sitting straight as a rod in his own until her arm locked around his comfortably. He visibly relaxed and kissed her forehead when she offered it.

The conversation flowed smoothly, John none the wiser the two of them had already met. Buck had her giggled over stories of a younger Bucky, taking her back to their days when they were first learning to fly. She asked about Marge and John noticed the way her chin dropped into her hand and she watched Gale with adoration as he spoke about the woman he had loved since he was a child. And would love until the day they died. 

“She sounds absolutely lovely, Gale.” Cass reached across the table and squeezed his hand when his gaze turned melancholy for a moment. 

“If you’re crazy enough to see it through with this one,” his chin jutted towards John, “I’m sure you and Marge will be thick as thieves.”

“Hey! I’m not that bad of a guy,” he spoke around bites of his dinner.

“John, you’ve got a little…” Cass motioned to the corner of her mouth to signal a bit of sauce was lingering on his. Without even really thinking about it, she used the corner of her own cloth napkin to dab away the offense. 

“Better?”

“Perfect.” Gale could lose his stomach with the sweetness. “Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me to the powder room.” John stood as she left, watching her with a dazed smile on his face until Buck coughed.

“She’s something, Bucky. A real class act. Whip smart. Has you wrapped around her finger many times over.” John hummed around his sip of whiskey. 

“I’ll keep wrapping myself around it as long as she’ll have me.”

“Yeah? I should tell you she’s too good for you.” 

“You’d be right. I don’t deserve someone like her.” He swirled his glass pensively. “You know I love you and I love Marge and I love the little world you two build whenever you're together. I’ve always wanted that but kept getting in my own way. Chasing the immediate instead of being patient. Cass and I, it’s going fast because of this fucked world we live in. And I’m not getting in my own way because I’ve found a girl who won’t let me.”

“Watching you two, I think it’s real, John.”

“I think it is too,” he swallowed the lump in his throat. “We’ve got to make it through this thing, Buck. I came here with nothing to lose but now I’ve got something I couldn’t stand to.” There was something desperate in his eyes. The same look Gale had seen yesterday when he was fighting the officer to reach Cass. 

“Feels nice to have someone to live for, doesn’t it?” he teased.

“Nice, scary, like I’m being mauled by Meatball.” They both laughed in spite of the truth. “You think she’s smitten with me?” Gale rolled his eyes.

“I do.” Bucky nodded.

“Good.” Cause he thinks he might love her. 

“Sorry for the prolonged departure.” She came back with a  smile, John standing and kissing her gently. “Major, I just reapplied that.”

“Couldn’t help myself.” Didn’t want to. 

He watched her and Gale banter back and forth the rest of the night with a smile on his face. Cass was the first girl he was introducing to his best friend, wished it was under better circumstances. Wished he had met her somewhere the threat of not making it to tomorrow didn’t exist. That he could court her properly and take her to the drive in and canoeing on the lake by his parents house and listen to a ballgame on the radio in the summer. Wished he had the courage to tell her and Buck that he was scared of losing them both. That he had been up there once and would back up a hundred times more if it meant they could live in a safer world. 

And one day, after all three of them had done their part to end this war, John will mention this dinner at Buck’s wedding. And Buck will mention it when John asks him to be their child’s Godfather. But they didn’t know what they would have to go through to get there. That John’s fear of losing them both will come true. And that he would almost lose himself in the process of getting them back.

[wildlife4life]

Seven (+) Sentence Sunday

Tagged by the very lovely @rainbow-nerdss, @fortheloveofbuddie @wikiangela @evanbegins and @daffi-990. Thank you! Can't wait for all your upcoming works!

In honor of the NFL regular season coming to an end today and the beginning of the playoffs, I'm sharing a part of a fan favorite. That's right ya'll, its an NFL Buck snippet! WOOOOO! (And I know this wayyyyy more than seven sentences, but are ya'll going to complain about extra NFL Buck?)

Eddie wasn't lying when he told Chimney he loved football. He just didn't say how much. When Chim invited the newest member of the 118 and his son to a kid friendly sports bar to watch the Rams play the Colts in Indy, he was expecting to be turned down. Hen encouraged it, "He needs friends that enjoy what he does. And I really can't listen to another rant about football stats or how Dustin Watson isn't taking the Texans to the tournament." "Deshaun Watson." Bobby corrected from the kitchen, "And its the playoffs." Hen rolls her eyes, "Whatever. You both have Sunday free and Buckley is playing, Christopher's favorite player." "How do you know the Ram's quarterback is playing, but not the name of the man who got Buckley kicked out of Texas?" Chim teased. "Denny." His friend answers simply, "You know he likes all things LA Rams." "Then why aren't you inviting Eddie and Christopher to your place to watch the game with Denny?" "Because Howard," Hen remarks a little sharply, "I'm not off Sunday and Karen has yet to meet Eddie, so it would be uncomfortable for everyone to have him in our home without me. Why are you arguing about this? You were just complaining about how Eddie and I are all buddy-buddy the other day." "You two have a lot more in common and somehow I always seem to stick my foot in my mouth whenever I talk to the guy. I freaking outed the dude!" Chimney reminds them. Bobby steps away from the stove and joins the two paramedics at the marble island, "Eddie wasn't making it easy for any of us to get to know him. Hen was just braver than most to actually approach him. Now its your turn and football is a good jumping point." Chimney opens his mouth to try objecting again, "And it will help in making up for the whole outing incident and interrogating his kid."

Cap had him there "And you'll pay." Hen demands and when Chimney arches a brow of slight disagreement she just shrugs and states, "It'll help dispel some of the notion of being his boyfriend's sugar baby and his birthday is the same week, making this an easy gift." And Hen made the kill shot. So Chimney awkwardly approached Eddie in the locker room at the end of their shift and invited him and Christopher to watch the game. He was happily surprised when Eddie said yes and brought an equally ecstatic Christopher with him without hesitation. Chim was additionally surprised with Eddie's total enrapture of the game, even more so with his undivided attention to the Ram's new quarterback, Evan Buckley. Every play the man made, Eddie was on his feet making some sort of comment. Good plays came with shouts of, "Good boy Buckley!" and "Great throw man!". Poor plays, interceptions, or missed opportunities, were met with, "Shake it off Buckley!" and "You got this Evan!" And any missed or bad calls from the refs... well Chimney knew foul language when he heard it, no matter what language. "We have a swear jar at home. It gets donated to Evan's charity at the end of the season." Christopher explains when he catches Chimney's questioning side glance after his father's latest f-bomb. Ah well, at least there's some sort of consequence to cursing in front of a child. "I have to pay up too if I say anything like my dad does, but I've never come close to his number." Chris adds on with a giggle and Chimney joins him with a low chuckle of his own. A niggle of curiosity has him asking, "And what about Buck?" The younger Diaz gives all his attention to what remains of his fries and shrugs with one shoulder, "Um... well I've never watched a game with Buck, but he does always double the jars total when we donate it." Chimney really wants to push on the whole matter of Eddie's partner of 10 years never once watching a game with the kid, but he knows interrigating Chris (again) about Buck (who is off limits unless otherwise brought up) would probably put an end to Eddie and Chim's burgeoning friendship. So he goes for a joke, "He must live with soap in his mouth if your dad is to go by." Earning a full belly laugh from the teen and Chimney counts it as a major win when Eddie glances back with bright grin.

I feel like Eddie and Chim have the whole, I'm friends with you because of a Buckley and because we work together thing. So take away the Buckley and its a bit of an awkward friendship, which I wanted to highlight and improve. Hope you all enjoyed!!!! More NFL Buck can be found here.

Tagging (no pressure): @disasterbuckdiaz @elvensorceress @devirnis @lover-of-mine @exhuastedpigeon @jesuisici33 @jamespearce9-1-1 @giddyupbuck @malewifediaz @hippolotamus @thewolvesof1998 @jeeyuns @911onabc @911-on-abc @bekkachaos @loserdiaz @hoodie-buck @try-set-me-on-fire @spotsandsocks @theotherbuckley @ladydorian05 @bigfootsmom @watchyourbuck @eddiebabygirldiaz @spaceprincessem @thekristen999 @spagheddiediaz @monsterrae1 @rogerzsteven @eowon @honestlydarkprincess @eddiescowboy @vampbuckley @bitchfacediaz @buck-coded @housewifebuck @arthursdent @glorious-spoon @buddierights @athenagranted @prosperdemeter2 @gayedmundodiaz

[buryustogether]

the truth of the matter

lycan/werewolf!heisenberg x f!reader

read part one here part 2 part 3

summary: the beast takes you to extract your vengeance upon those who took advantage of you

warnings/tags: mentions of sexual assault, blood, gore, violence, murder, sexual tension, religious references

author’s note: yeah i know it’s not as good as the first one but the next part will have smut so

inspired by mary on a cross by ghost

‘ and the truth of the matter is

i’ll never let you go. ”

The beast’s coat smelled of him.

The sticky scent of pine, the greased stench of oil, the faint tinge of blood - they made up the unique, enchanting aroma that encased you in a secure embrace as you followed the man before you back to the village. Your teeth had stopped their chattering since he draped the fabric across your shoulders, yet your fingers still played a game of numbness, and your lips refused to work in the way they should upon trying to form words.

The cold seeped into your bones like lake water pulling you under, latching onto your very marrow and yanking you beneath the surface. Yet you resisted. You did not collapse to the ground just yet, despite the ache in your lungs, despite the throbbing of your wrists where the metal shackles had kept you tied to the offering pedestal.

Instead, you drove yourself onward, following the footprints of the towering man that trekked slightly ahead of you. Your rage was not yet frozen through. Your fury had thawed. Your hatred and need for revenge and vengeance overpowered any natural instinct your body sent screaming through your veins. Your friends, your parents, your neighbors… they had simply stood by and watched as you were violated. Dressed like a doll. Left to be ravished, then slaughtered.

And where were they now? Warm in their homes, eagerly awaiting what the beast would bring them in exchange for your blood.

“You don’t have to come with, you know.”

You lifted your head upon hearing the beast’s words. Heisenberg. Karl. He’d stopped just ahead of you, gazing over his broad shoulder at your small, hunched form. The corners of his eyes, darkened with his silvery irises, peeked out from the edges of his shades. You wondered where he’d gotten them; the only specs you’d ever seen were the ones made by the carpenter in town for those with poor eyesight. But those were not tinted, as his were.

“No,” you grunted out and quickened your pace to fall in step beside him. You were forced to crane your neck to look up at him. Your exhausted gaze was met with that unreadable expression of his, eyes hidden behind those panes and his mouth set in a thin line. “I want to. I…” You panted slightly, your mind racing. Then your rage resurfaced. “I need to,” you added and set your jaw. “They’re monsters, the whole fucking lot of them. I want to see them suffer.”

Your own words surprised you. Even when you were small and your playthings had been stolen by the other children, you had never been one to resort to violence. And yet when you thought of what they had done to you, without an inch of your consent… it made you want to drop to the frozen ground and howl and scream until your lungs gave out and you succumbed to the elements.

You watched as Heisenberg’s mouth quirked slightly at the corner. His beard twitched with the movement. Again, there came that fluttering and leaden sensation that dropped from your stomach to the space between your thighs.

“And here I thought I was the only beast in the woods,” he rumbled. He cast a thoughtful gaze down the path to the village, then took a step closer. Upon instinct, you inched backward. Yet you stilled yourself, afraid and enraptured all at once. “It’s still a mile or two to the town. Your choice, princess, but take it from me - a wounded animal never makes it far.”

You looked down at the hand he’d extended; gloved in leather; no claws; warm. A flash of memory panged into your head like an empty shotgun shell, freshly fired. You recalled the feeling of hands upon you, restraining your wrists, lifting your skirts, digging with sharp nails into your thighs and pushing them apart. Dirty fingers digging through your most intimate places. Would his hands on you feel like that?

Somehow, in some way, you knew they would not.

Silently, you looked up at him and nodded your head once. Then, with a grunt, he wrapped one arm around your back and the other beneath your legs, and hefted you into a bridal-style carry. At once, your heart skipped a number of beats. You watched the way his muscles flexed beneath his shirt, felt the murmuring of his heart as the side of your body pressed against his chest. Warmth radiated from his chest like a hearth, and suddenly you were wrapped entirely in that scent of his. It settled your racing nerves.

When you reached up to secure your arms around his neck, a few strands of his grey hair were caught between your clamped fingers. He jerked slightly, releasing a rumble from the pit of his chest.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured and released his tresses.

To your surprise, his lips curled upward to show off the whites of his teeth. Again, you imagined his canines growing into jagged blades. “Don’t say sorry for something I liked, sweetheart,” he said.

To avoid his gaze, and perhaps distract him from the sudden uptick in your pulse, you turned your head away.

“Nervous little villager, aren’t you?” he said. He carefully adjusted your weight against him, then began the trek toward the town once more. “Don’t worry, honey.” His voice was suddenly at the shell of your ear, his hot breath fanning against your temple. “Nothing’s going to hurt you like they did now that you’re mine.”

It seemed he was aware of the effect his words, his voice, simply his presence, had on you. He relished in the way your grip on him tightened slightly, in the way your breath hitched in your throat and how you squeezed your legs together. Yet all he did was smirk that agonizing smile to himself and tramp along through the snow.

You shut your eyes to the blinding whiteness of the snow in the late afternoon sun, instead tilting your forehead to rest against Heisenberg’s collarbone.

A man had never touched you like this before - well, before today. You’d craved this kind of touch in the past, but the boys in the village were always far too pushy or clingy or cocky to woo you into letting them come any closer than was proper. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t tried; as one of the only young eligible women in the village, it was known you would marry soon and begin to grace the town with the new generation. Every boy that was not already committed to another girl practically tried to jump you.

They invited you to attend service with them, asked you advice for gifts for their mothers and sisters, paid you for the stitching and embroidery you’d made a small hobby of. When you watched over the younger children in the school while the teachers stepped away, they would be sure to bring their little brothers and sisters, just to have an excuse to speak to you.

Some were sweet. Others were downright heinous. And yet your answer had always been no. You were content without a man; and while you, of course, had carnal urges no one could suppress, you did just fine on your own. Yet there were things you wondered about…

“Here.”

Heisenberg’s voice brings you tumbling from your thoughts. He’s stopped at the tree line surrounding your village, stood atop a small hill overlooking the church and the small rows of houses. Inside windows, fireplaces roared and children played on hearth side rugs. Stragglers hurried through the streets in order to get home before dark. Each and every one of them was wondering what great reward they would be bestowed for their sacrifice.

Your grip on the beast tightened yet again without your permission. A small bit of disappointment overpowered the fear for a moment when he let you down to stand on your own. Within your head, a tiny, devilish voice whispered, ‘Soon. He’ll hold you again soon. Make you feel safe again. Touch you like he did in the forest. Soon.’

“Listen, sweetheart,” he said as he began to pull his gloves tighter over his massive hands, “you might want to stay here while I go and pay your people a visit. This might get a little messy.” He cast you a glance. “Messier than even what you had in mind.”

“But -“

“Don’t you worry.” He swept close, taking your chin under his thumb in that way he does. His lips were inches from yours, a mere breath away. If you leaned forward just slightly, you’d be kissing him. “I’ll make them hurt for what they did to you.”

With that he was gone, sauntering down the hill toward the town. He walked with a sort of swagger that brought out his rather wily personality, and yet demanded respect all at the same time. You remembered how frightened you were when you first laid eyes upon him less than an hour ago - hell, how frightened you were now watching him leave - and imagined the terror that would fill the village when they realized just who he was.

You stood at the tree line, still huddled in the beast’s coat, watching. Waiting. So much time passed you thought nothing happened.

Then a scream, shrill and horrified and filled with pure, raw terror, ripped through the air. It rose the birds from their hidden perches in the trees, seemed to shake the ground beneath your feet. Slowly, more howls and shrieks followed the first. You saw the tiny figures of villagers scattering, scrambling for cover as some unseen force sent them all running.

A roar tore through the ravine. It was unlike anything you’d ever heard before; the trees seemed to shake upon their very roots and the clouds threatened to tumble down from the heavens. It was animalistic in its nature, wet and guttural.

The beast.

Suddenly you were filled with that same urge you’d felt when first released from the chains, when tramping through the snow - the urge for vengeance. For revenge. To take the justice that was rightfully yours after what they had done to you.

Despite the cold still controlling your bones, you found yourself stalking down the hill, your footprints following Heisenberg’s larger ones. The image of them fueled you with courage. Knowing he would be there, knowing he would protect you… it made you feel powerful beyond compare; something you had never experienced in your lifetime.

It seemed both an eternity and just moments later that you reached the village. You knew you would not like what you saw, and yet you continued on anyhow. You would not be some martyr, some victim, some nameless sacrifice to them.

You would become their worst regret.

Screams and howls of terror filled your ears, became your whole world, as you turned the corner of a building and laid eyes upon what was your home just this morning. A number of bodies - all men - lay scattered about the snow, each and every one torn near apart with gigantic claw marks. Some’s necks were barely still hanging onto their shoulders, shredded by rows of blade-like monster teeth. The white had turned red, the cobblestones flooded with blood. Women fled into the nearest buildings with their children, wailing for their lost loved ones. One girl prayed before a fallen body and rocked herself on her heels.

They were far too distraught to pay you any mind.

There came a new commotion - from the church - that drew your attention. Some large, ground-trembling force shook the small building in its very foundation. The bell in the tower overhead rang gently, sadly, helpless to do anything but sing its mournful song. You followed its melody. Your boots stamped along the front steps you were dragged up this morning, through the open doorway, and into the threshold.

The sight waiting for you inside was one that nearly brought that sick, sadistic smile back to your painted lips.

The beast had cornered the village priest - the one who had called your name and assaulted you in checking your virginity - in one of the front pews. The man was a bloody, torn-up mess. Blood cascaded from a wound in his shoulder and his nose looked to be broken in two different places. One eye was swollen shut. Scarlet dripped from his mouth and down his pant leg, to where one knee was bent the wrong direction. There was also a wet spot at his crotch.

And the beast - well. He had truly become the beast you’d heard in the legends growing up. He’d become the monster, the savior, the god. Teeth that had once looked just like yours had grown into razor-looking things, the tips and his lips and his beard stained with still-warm blood. Claws had stabbed through his gloves, near six inches each. His shades were gone, allowing that once star-like gaze to become a wicked yellow that burned like rum on fire. Teeth bared, chest heaving, expression torn into one of fitful rage, you feared momentarily that whatever curse or blessing he’d been bestowed upon at birth had overtaken him.

And yet still, in some way you could not understand, you felt safe.

“I beg of you, great one,” stammered the priest as he squeezed up into the pew, “have mercy upon our souls. We meant not to anger you.”

“Don’t speak to me about mercy, you fucking weasel.” Heisenberg reached out a clawed hand and easily lifted the man by his throat, then turned and slammed him back against the pulpit. The wood cracked and splintered beneath his weight. “How many times did that girl beg you for mercy? How many times did mercy cross your mind while you waited for your reward?”

The priest cowered against the pulpit, blood staining the carpet beneath him. He gurgled slightly before pulling his words together. “We wished to appease you!”

“With a fucking human being?!”

His eyes wide enough to drink from and his body bruised and bloody and broken, the priest’s gaze shifted from the creature before him and toward your figure in the doorway. He gasped and sputtered, his terror now tripled.

You relished in his fear. He knew what he had done was wrong, and now he was awaiting your judgement.

The beast followed his eyes with a snarl, jowls curled to show off his teeth, before his golden gaze landed upon you. He watched as you reached around the doorframe of the church and produced an old, warped axe; kept there for emergencies in case of a blizzard. Or an attack. His smile grew into something far more sinister and he stalked - practically on all fours - around the side of the pulpit so that he could peer over the top. What an ironic scene before you; the priest, upon his knees begging for reprive, and the beast you once worshiped as a god braced upon the pulpit.

What a sick, twisted sense of humor the world had.

The priest stammered your name as you slowly approached him, your weak arms struggling to carry the axe with you. “We - we didn’t know…! I told them it was unjust. I tried to stop them…! The council -“

“I once looked up to you,” you seethed, blue lips now moving upon their own accord. The blunt end of the axe dragged upon the floor as you walked, filling the air with the metallic sing of its contact on wood. The beast watched silently, curled around the pulpit, that gaze upon your body and those lips curled into an amused sneer. “I trusted you as a child. I trusted you today. What have I done to deserve this?”

“The council -“

“Coward!” you found yourself shrieking. Your throat tore itself apart with your scream. “You are the council. You are the village! You did this to me!”

“Our God demanded -“

“The truth of the matter is, Father…” With a grunt, you hefted the axe further into your arms and secured your frozen fingers around it. The man before you began to cry and beg. The beast waited. “There is no God.”

The axe swung, propelled by your strength and momentum and grief, and came to rest with a wet, sickening thud. Blood spattered upon your face, your skirts. The priest’s protests silenced. Scarlet slowly, ever so slowly, began to spread in an almost-pretty pool at your feet. When you let the handle go, it stayed put, the blade buried deep in your attacker’s head.

For a moment, there was nothing. Nothing but the still-warm body before you and the rising bile lurching in your throat. Gradually, your rage and need for vengeance melted to horror. You felt your hands drift to your mouth to cover it, your eyes wide and your legs suddenly crooked and unstable.

Before you fell, large, strong arms wrapped around your form and near scooped you up against a warm wall. You inhaled slightly, and you were met with that same scent that enveloped you while walking through the forest. The beast. Heisenberg. Karl.

“May his soul never find the peace he prayed for,” you heard him rumble. Again, those arms lifted your legs so that he was carrying you once more, your feet hanging limp as he turned and brought you to the doorway. Cold reached out for you with thin, spindly arms, carrying with its wind the scent of blood. It was on your face. Your clothes. Your hands.

A small noise must have escaped your throat, because the beast tilted your head slightly so that your face was pressed into his collarbone once more. “I know, honey. Just rest now.” Your hands closed into fists around his shirt, your nose pressed into the nape of his throat. “Sleep, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” And then, right beside your ear as you found yourself drifting away into the darkness behind your eyelids, “No one will fuck with you now that you belong to me.”

tags: @robzombzie @dingusdingusio @syd-vixious @inesalexandra1995 @sincerely-gi @cowsrcool123 @makenten @call-me-magpie @lawlesshedgehog @harley777q @mixx-ie @all-mights-wife @uwu-i-purple-you @ifindyourlipssokisssable @stitchmiku @demodemonio

[siriuslygay1981]

Word count: 1,818 | Jegulus

Regulus was a weak weak man, how he became so feeble minded, he'll never know.

His eyes unconsciously trail over to the mop of brown hair that rests against the arm of the sofa. It had to be uncomfortable, he was sure the gryffindors neck would hurt for the rest of the day. He resists the urge to be soft and go get a pillow or something ridiculous.

Regulus slowly put his book down, not bothering to save his page, he didn't see the point. He probably wouldn't be back to finish the book anyways, which was a shame he had just gotten to the part where she rejected his proposal.

"You are mistaken, Mr.darcy, if you suppose that the mode of your declaration affected me in any other way, than as it spared the concern which i might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner…” he had murmured the words softly as he read it, careful not to speak too loudly with the faintly snoring boy next to him.

James had long since fallen asleep, his once gasping breaths now slow and even. James had somewhat acted how he expected when discovering the wretched truth..but he had surprised him in still staying. With the dark mark he knew he wouldn't make it out of this war alive..no matter what side won because he would not stay by the mad man he once idolized and the light side, as many called them, would surely never accept him, nor he them if he was honest. It was too much to get into so late in the war, he had chosen his side and he had no choice but to stick with it. He couldn't just switch sides as if this was some silly kids game.

He knew how the tattered book ended, he had read it a total of three times already. He remembers the first time, the late nights spent under his covers behind the closed curtains of his bed. Night after night he spent reading the pages, enraptured by the words that glided right off the page and pulled him in.

He remembers all the feelings that came with it.

The nights spent reading it had him longing for something, at first he couldn't place it but he knew what it was the second time around, the realization making him almost physically ill. He wasn't alone the second time through.

James would softly read the words to him as he swept his fingers gently up and down his arm leaving goosebumps behind and an aching burning need deep in his bones.

James didn't know how much power he had over Regulus, it was absolutely terrifying.

Sometimes it felt like he was bursting at the seams with the affection he held for the older boy

One night, as James was reading a chapter aloud, his hand absentmindedly running along his chest, he started to get closer to a certain passage.

Regulus’ already thumping heart seemed to speed up and stutter, his ears tuning into the deep voice.

He wasn't sure if he could handle james saying these next words, he gulped and looked up to the gryffindor who turned the page softly and continued. He glanced down at Regulus with a small smile, his voice lifting slightly.

Regulus let his eyes trail over the exposed skin before him. He trailed his eyes across the bump in his nose, his long eyelashes, his full lips, slowly trailing down to his throat and back up to the brown eyes he knew so well. He inhaled the scent that surrounded him, some earthy scent that always seemed to cling to the boy, like damp earth, sleekeazy’s, his cedar scented body wash.

His hearing tuned in again as if it knew the words were coming up

“You have bewitched me body and soul,-” he could hear James’ breath hitch as he read the next words, his mouth opening and closing before he continued to the next line

“and I love” he sounded breathless and Regulus could not for the life of him take his eyes off of him, his whole body attuning to James. He could barely exist in the same room with the stupid lovely boy, his heart raced, his mind blanked…he was a fool. A fool who just like the rest of Hogwarts, fell for the mischievous grin and large ego.

“I love, I love you.” his voice was husky and Merlin and Morgana both, Regulus was gone. He felt like he would physically spontaneously explode. Like all this…this thing inside of him was going to burst and he felt so overwhelmed, so full, he felt as if he was bathing in sunlight, the heated rays warming his body and heart. Anything James wanted…Regulus would do.

“And wish from this day forth never to be parted from you.” James paused, his eyes not leaving the book.

It was silent, tension filling the air.

Regulus slowly reached up for the book and immediately let it fall out of his hands and onto the floor, his body twisting as he sat up and removed his head from James’ lap. James frowned at the loss of contact but he zeroed in on regulus as he sat on his knees next to him.

Regulus reached forward his finger brushing against James’ cheek, like James couldn't help it, he sighed in content a shiver wracking his body.

Regulus let a small smile grace his lips, he never got over how responsive James was.

He cupped his face and rubbed his thumb over the beauty mark near his eye without really thinking about it.

James’ mouth parted, his eyes opening and staring at Regulus as if he was the only thing that mattered. He's sure neither would have noticed if the world was ending around them.

James leant forward, one hand coming up to grasp Regulus’ wrist

“Reg-”

He cut his memory off abruptly, he couldn't do this now. He softly lifts James’ feet off his lap and stretches.

He makes quick work of his last ends to be tied up. His mind drifted away and back as he wrote. He had to force himself to focus, begging himself to just get this over with. Dwelling on it longer than he had to only brought pain.

To the Dark Lord he starts, his hands trembling terribly.

I know I will be dead long before you read this. He resolutely didn't look at the sleeping form of James, he didn't dare let himself think of anyone else either.

but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can.

Strong all consuming rage filled him. He had to do this. He was doing it…but he still hated the bastard. Regulus forces himself to calm down before he continues to write

I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more.

Gulping he dips his quill in some more ink before signing off.

R.A.B.

Angrily…he hopes the dark Lord figures out it was him….beneath that he hopes he never finds out.

He lets the note dry before shoving it into the fake locket and standing up. The heavy metal sets against his chest as he inhales a shaky breath. It burns against his skin, his heart thumps wildly.

“You have bewitched me body and soul” he murmurs as he kneels in front of the sleeping boy's form. He brushes a strand of hair out of James’ face, his heart aching as James’ nose scrunches up

“And I love…I love..i love you. And wish from this day forth never to be parted from you.” he murmurs the last bit almost sardonically

He stands up, ready to leave and meet his end-

A hand grabs his wrist as he turns causing him to gasp at the unexpected contact.

“Are you really trying to leave after confessing your love to me?” a incredulous raspy voice asks

Regulus purses his lips and begs the blush on his face isn't noticeable

“I don't know what you mean Potter” he almost cringes at how obvious he is.

He clears his throat and turns back to the now awake man

“Let go, i have places to be..” he tries to sound stern but it sounds weak to his ears

“No, i don't know what you plan on doing but I know you…and I know that you are about to do something stupid..i also know you will not be going alone.” James stands up slowly his hand never leaving Regulus’ wrist

“I'm not taking you with me, James.” he whispers

He keeps his face blank, his eyes hard, he tries to sound stern. His voice wavering betrays him though.

He's afraid.

James softens slightly but shakes his head and grabs both of Regulus’ hands

“I'm not giving you a choice. You're not going alone”

Regulus glares at James and tugs his hands free, suddenly very angry.

“I'm not giving you a choice James Potter, i'm going.” he gulps at James’ expression and barely stops himself from reaching out

“Kreacher will be with me, i won't be alone.” he adds because he's weak

“Not enough-” James says harshly “That's not enough. I'm coming with you.”

They stare into each other's eyes neither wanting to back down. Regulus scowls, his eyebrows pinching together. James stays still, determined not to lose. Regulus was surprised at James' determination, usually he would have given up by now. Giving into Regulus’ harsh gaze, not wanting to push Regulus away or make him upset.

Regulus goes over a dozen stunning spells in his mind as James stares at him both pleadingly and sternly He crumbles for a moment, his face scrunching up in despair.

“Please.” he whispers hoarsely

Regulus is a terribly weak man. His walls crumble to the floor, his heart clenching painfully. Against everything he knows he should do…he wants to agree. He likes to think it took him longer than a split second before answering.

“Ok”

the word is out of his mouth before he can fully decide but by then it's too late. He's sure it would've ended this way no matter what he did, James potter made him a weak man and it shows. Mostly when that blinding smiles hits regulus and his knees almost give out

He lets out a shaky breath, his eyes glued to the brightly smiling man in front of him.

“But if you don't do as I say…I'll stun you and tie you up before leaving you in the forbidden forest-” he spits out viciously

James just brushes one of his curls out of his face tucking it behind his ear, a soft smile on his lips.

“Alright..” he murmurs

His hand stays there unreasonably long, neither notice.

[greenlikethesea]

ooo what's the king eddie au about? 💕💕💕

paging my beautiful blorby @sparklyslug!!!

we were chatting back and forth as we do and we came up with this fun idea of...what if Eddie was the popular jock and Steve was the dorky kid? Eddie and Chrissy are bearding for each other, Steve lives with his single mom next door to Dustin, and a chance encounter has Eddie and Steve becoming friends and something more maybe...but Chrissy is not too happy about it. Here's an excerpt!

“What did I do?” Eddie all but shouts at Steve. They just…look at each other for a moment. Steve has long resigned himself to being completely enraptured by Eddie’s eyes, and they’re big as saucers right now, his whole face wide open with…hurt. Hurt, what the fuck. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” Steve asks. Eddie splutters, running his hands through his hair, completely ruining the slick back he’s got going on. “For you to stop talking to me? No!” “I wish you’d had the decency to tell me yourself,” Steve says. He’s had enough. Enough of Eddie’s fucking games. He presses on, like it isn’t tearing his heart in two to have Eddie standing in this laundry room with him, three feet away, so tantalizingly close but so far away. “But no, you sent your girlfriend to do your dirty work.” Steve expects Eddie to look guilty, to turn away. Recoil in shame, hopefully, at his own cowardice. But he looks…confused? What? “Steve, what are you talking about?” “Don’t bullshit me, Eddie,” Steve spits. “Chrissy told me everything. How you don’t like guys, how you’ve been too polite to say anything, how you’re getting engaged at graduation. Eddie and Chrissy forever, all that.” At this, Eddie’s face falls. “Steve, no, it’s not like that.”

[thiriumhound]

Of course I'll remind you, I'll do it right now in this ask, so you could share your favourite whump fics when you feel like doing it. And for now let this ask just hang in there

context

ok ok ok ok ok ok ok SSO. *heavy breathing*

have you ever looked at dbh and gone, "man, i really wish the androids were treated like the living autonomous machines they are instead of human expys"? have you ever looked at dbh and gone, "man, i sure wish cyberlife had any development literally at all- kamski probably had absolutely nothing to do with connor's development, so why is he considered connor's 'maker'?" have you ever looked at dbh and gone, "man, i wonder if there's anything more to amanda, and i wonder if chloe being the first android to pass the turing test means anything? surely there's something there"? have you ever looked at dbh and gone, "man, it sure is ridiculous how despite being conscious ais with full internet access, none of them really do anything with it"? have you ever thought "man it would be cool if androids weren't constrained to stupid human physical and mental standards for the sake of easy writing"? have you ever looked at dbh and thought, "man, there are so few characters that are more than one-note cutouts, it's no wonder people made gavin reed into a whole different character because there was no one else available to use to make certain dynamics happen"? have you ever looked at dbh and thought, "man, it's just so bare-bones, with so many plotholes and unexplored things, i wish the worldbuilding had an ounce of thought and logic behind it!"?

WELL LOOK NO FUCKING MORE. SEARCH NO FUCKING MORE. LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT THIS FUCKING FIC IT HAS ME BY THE THROAT.

it's got fucking EVERYTHING. wanna know what it was like to be the first ever fully conscious ai, a whole new kind of living being? BOOM, THIS FIC'S GOT YOU COVERED. ever wondered about the development behind them, cyberlife as a company and the people in it? FUCK YES LOOK RIGHT HERE. ever wanted to see connor in ways you've never seen him before, to the point where i actually can't construct this sentence meaningfully because there's just so fucking much??? PLEASE READ THIS FIC OH MY GOD. ever wanted to know WHAT THE FUCK RA9 IS????? YOU WANNA KNOW ABOUT FUCKING RA9??????????????

this fic is called "Connor". it is about connor. the whole thing is mostly pov connor, and it's about connor, iterations ZERO TO SIXTY. NOT JUST STARTING AT 51, OH NO, WE GET IT ALL. why is his iteration number so high at the start of the game? WELL YOU BETTER BE EXCITED TO FIND OUT.

DO YOU WANT ANGST? WHUMP? LOVE? TRIUMPH? RAGE? DESPAIR? ARROGANCE? A SHITLOAD OF DEATH? CONNOR DYING 50000000 TIMES???? THE MILITARY? GLOBAL CRISIS? HAVING THE WORLD ON YOUR SHOULDERS WITH NO CHOICE BUT TO DO YOUR BEST?????????????? GREY MORALITY???????? UNABASHED COMPLEXITY????? THE BEST FUCKING ANTAGONIST EVER IN THE HISTORY OF EVER????????????????????????????????

i haven't even read this fic recently it's been like weeks. a month? more? and i'm still internally screaming. i feel like i'm missing some of the main draws and i can't even describe a lot of it because i would DIE if i spoiled this masterpiece. this fic made me actually want to make myself learn to draw people so i can draw nothing but fanart for this fucking fic.

the characters, the pacing, the fucking lore, it's all immaculate. seriously. it feels like it's what dbh SHOULD'VE been. the writing style is utterly enrapturing. when i read it for the first time, i legitimately could not get myself to turn away from it for anything except tasks absolutely required on me. every single character feels like a PERSON. connor's complexity is fucking insane. he's lovable, he's terrifying, he's caring, he's callous. he is NOT static, at all. connor in chapter x is a completely different beast from chapter y. there is so much trauma and catastrophe, but PERFECTLY balanced with the humor. it's fucking perfect

let me supply some nice quotes to hook you. i can barely put any because spoilers and length but enjoy mostly funnies but also some of the angst

•"I do stuff without thinking sometimes." "Clearly," I say. "No intelligent being would jump out of a moving vehicle for no reason." "I have a reason," he says. "I promised I wasn't gonna leave you ever again and I meant it." "Hey, are they filming a scene?" I hear a human whisper.

•"Mrs Vondracek, this is Gennadiy Petrov," he says. "Who?" "Elijah's friend from work. You remember?" "Elijah doesn't have any friends."

•There is only a 6% chance that Carridan will say anything. He knows what I'm capable of. He knows what will happen to those that stand in the way of my mission.

•"You do not waltz into some girl's house, kidnap her and frame yourself for murder. Do you understand?"

•I transmit my payment details. CyberLife have an expense account set up in case I need to purchase items relevant to my mission objective. Sergeant Matthews is relevant to my mission objective. And he wants Oreos.

•I scan and analyse the quadruped with short brown fur, brown eyes. Loud noises emanate from what I suspect is its mouth. "Dog," I identify, unsure of the significance.

•He squeezes my shoulders. "It's alright, buddy," he says. "Just breathe." "I don't breathe." "Okay. What do you usually do when you're having a meltdown?" "I experience critical system failure." "Ummm. Okay... don't do that."

•I cannot decipher his handwriting. Neither can the software on the tablet. It saves the note as an image. I download it to study but my advanced analysis systems can't crack it. This is worse than a captcha code.

•I hear the shrieking of steel as the disc begins to rotate. No... Please... Where is Sergeant Matthews? Where is the CPD? The FBI? CyberLife? Why am I alone? Why am I always alone?

•I watch him die. As so many others have died. Their blood on my hands.

•"You're a bad person," he says, clutching at the BN250's uniform. "I'm not a person," I say. "Neither are you."

god i wish i could put more but spoilers- anyway this is just some of the stuff i screenshotted to my phone. not even close to all the good stuff just please read the fic im begging u it'll be worth it you'll never be able to look at canon as complete again

read. now