#if you whistle I will scamper there and LOOK

[canisalbus]

If someone wants to give you art, what's the best way? Just @ you in the post or sending a message/ ask with a link?

Either way is fine! Mentioning/tagging me directly makes it more likely that I see the post, but that doesn't always work and sometimes I don't receive a notification even if I should. Sending an ask or a DM with a link is alright as well.

I'm extremely grateful for the gift art I receive and I absolutely love seeing my characters depicted in other people's styles. But I should mention that I can be very slow to comment/reblog. Not always but it's a thing I consistently fail at. I have some kind of mental roadblock that makes it difficult, it has nothing to do with the piece itself, I think it's a social anxiety/autism issue of some sort. I get emotionally overwhelmed or something. So if you draw or make something for me and it seems to take me forever to react, please don't take it personally. It's rude of me to keep people waiting but I'm trying my best with the limited energy, social batteries and time I have. You're always free to poke me a little bit and remind me and make sure I saw the post, I genuinely don't mind at all.

[gogobootz1]

Dog Day Afternoon

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: New to town but oh-so sought after, a few stumbles might just lead you to love

Word Count: 3k

Dearest Gentle Reader,

Today, I write with news from the North. The reclusive Duke of Devonshire has come to London. It seems that after the death of his younger brother some time back, he is determined to find his eldest daughter, the new heir, a husband. The lady is supposedly very beautiful and will no doubt consume all of the attention of eligible young bachelors. I only bid good luck to her competition, as they will surely need it.

The fluffy tails of your two best friends could not keep still. The black Newfoundlands you had trained from puppyhood loved carriage rides, mostly because they loved meeting the horses before and after. You were sure they'd grow even more excited when you arrived at the park.

As the carriage slowed, you smiled, eager to get them some exercise. Your maid stepped out first, and you momentarily handed her both dogs' leads. Accepting a hand down from a footman, you turned to take them back when they broke free of her grasp entirely. Worse yet, they took off at a run.

You called after them, then whistled, but they were determined. Usually, they didn't give you any trouble with recall. Reaching for the dog whistle you kept on your person, you found nothing.

Without a second thought, you took off after them.

"My Lady!" Your maid called from behind you, panicked. You paid her little heed, anxious to have your babies back safe.

Park patrons stood as your dogs, followed by yourself, ran past. They gawked openly at the strange scene put on by an unknown young lady.

You were relieved when they slowed, but it didn't take long for them to sprint off again. They rounded a corner, quick as lighting. You kept after them, unable to see the obstacle around the bend.

Crashing right into someone's back, the two of you stumbled. The poor gentleman in front of you took the brunt of the impact, but you didn't have time to stay and make a formal apology. Staggering a bit, you resumed your chase.

"Sorry!" You yelled over your shoulder.

"Wait! Miss," the man called after you but gave up as you ran further away.

When your dogs ran off the path and into a clearing where people were picnicking, you grew really worried. Chasing after them on a trail was one thing, but ruining the outings of fellow nobility would be an altogether worse embarrassment.

You stopped in your tracks when you realized who the boys were scampering up to: your little sister. Abigail sat on a blanket with a girl who looked to be about her age. In her mouth was the dog whistle. You tended only to use that whistle when you took them out in the woods, and you'd trained them to run back to you at the sound of it. It gave you peace of mind knowing that you could call them back at any time if they went too far off in the forest or on one of your walks.

Abigail seemed pleased to see the two of them. A surprised grin graced her face as she patted them. They were even happier to see her, showering her in kisses. "Hoo-y? Moo? What are you doing here?" She giggled.

Her laughter stopped when she saw you stalking over. Thoroughly out of breath, you crossed your arms when you reached them. The three of them looked guiltily up at you. With a snap, your dogs came to sit on either side of you. Although your countenance was thoroughly enraged, scratching behind both dogs' ears decreased your intimidation factor.

"Why on Earth did you steal that?" You nodded toward your whistle.

"I think it makes for a chic necklace," Abigail said defensively. You stuck a hand out, and she reluctantly placed the whistle she'd put on a chain in it.

"And why on Earth were you using it?" You asked expectantly.

She held her hands up in surrender, "Miss Hyacinth was skeptical that the whistle could not be heard with human ears. I was simply showing her how it worked." Abigail was clever- you'd give her that. You could hardly scold her in front of her companion, and you wouldn't dream of scolding the other young girl for something so clearly not her fault. Using her as a human shield was a cowardly tactic by your sister, however. "And I thought you weren't arriving until later!"

"They were antsy. I figured I could abandon the harp in favor of allowing them some exercise," you explained, then glared at her, "This was not the type of exercise I had in mind."

"But Hoo-y and Moo love running free," she pouted at you.

"They are not allowed to run free in public spaces where I must chase after them!" You snapped at her. Crouching to get closer, you reached into your purse and gave both dogs a scrap of jerky. "Huginn and Muninn are both well-behaved gentlemen, and you may have tarnished their good names by causing this wild romp!"

"Huginn and Muninn? Does that make you Odin?" A deep voice called from behind you. You rose and turned to see a tall, handsome gentleman with dark hair.

His question took you by surprise. Most people did not understand their names. You blinked for a second before collecting yourself, "No." It was hardly a smart reply, but it was the most you could manage after chasing your dogs a few hundred meters. You shook your head a little, vaguely embarrassed by your answer, before turning back to the girls.

"Would you please excuse Lady Abigail, Miss Hyacinth?" The bright young lady nodded at you with a pleasant smile before you even finished speaking, "The least she can do after causing such trouble is help me walk the dogs." You directed the last part toward your sister, who reluctantly stood. Taking one of the leads from your hand, she bid goodbye to her companion before walking off. You nodded at the young lady and the handsome stranger before following after her.

Benedict watched you walk away from his sister's picnic spot, only slightly removed from the rest of the family's. He collapsed down next to Hyacinth and stole a grape from her plate, "Who was that?"

"My new friend, Abigail," she replied, smacking his wrist. He ate the grape anyway.

"And the older one?"

"Her sister," Hyacinth looked at him skeptically, "why do you ask?"

Benedict thought of how you'd practically pushed him to the ground in the middle of the walkway, then ran from the scene. "No reason," he shrugged.

——————————————

The first ball you'd be attending was later that evening, and you were incredibly nervous. Sat on the floor of the library, you brushed through Muninn's coat in an attempt to calm your nerves. Waiting for your father to finish changing was making you even more anxious, the dread just building up in your body.

"Why are you on the floor?" His voice finally came from the doorway.

"His coat needed brushing," you shrugged innocently. The Duke waved at you to come join him, and you stood, brushing some fur off yourself. Muninn stood, too, and closely followed as you joined your father.

"You're only lucky he didn't slobber on you," your father shook his head at you fondly, offering his arm.

Taking it, you made one last bid to skip the event, "Remind me why we are attending this?"

"A future Duchess needs a husband," he said simply.

"Does she really?" You asked wryly.

"No," your father answered seriously, causing you to stop. "Well, only if she should like a Duke or Duchess of her blood to follow in her footsteps," he tugged on your arm to keep you walking.

That only made you feel worse. While before you felt nervous, guilt was now in the mix. What if that didn't happen?

"If you never marry, I will not love you any less," he revealed. "I only ask that you try," your father asserted, "but if there is nary a man up to snuff, I would have you die a spinster." You laughed at that, feeling some pressure relieved. He joked with you for the duration of the carriage ride and up until you were announced at the ball.

"Now presenting; His Grace Daniel, Duke of Devonshire, and his daughter Lady-"

The entire company of the room turned to watch the two of you descend the stairs.

"What? Is there something on my face?" Your father whispered to you jokingly.

"Oh, only that awful mustache," you whispered back playfully. You caught the corner of his lip twitching as he tried not to laugh at the jab at his expense.

A few more seconds of staring had you whispering to him again, "I see now why you never leave the house." That earned a huff of a laugh from him.

"Let us thank our host, then visit the refreshments," he relayed the plan.

"Excellent idea," you replied quietly as he dragged you toward a finely dressed older woman.

"Lady Danbury," your father nodded at her in greeting.

"Lovely to see you again, Your Grace. It's been quite some time," she smiled at him knowingly.

"Indeed it has," he laughed, "may I present my daughter?" You smiled then, giving her a polite nod as well.

"My, how you've grown, my lady. The last time I saw you, you were far shorter than me," she chuckled, and you laughed politely with her. Unfortunately, you had no memory of that meeting. It must have been a long time ago, and she must have visited your home at Chatsworth House.

It was only a few more moments of small talk before your father excused the two of you, under the guise of not impeding her from talking to other guests.

He fixed you both a glass of lemonade at the refreshments table before he was pulled away. As much as he hated socializing, people loved him. He sent you an apologetic glance as he left. You only shook your head at him, smiling.

You took a brief glance around the room, noticing a few debutantes conversing near you. You sent them a smile, but they sneered in reply and closed ranks. Stunned at their response, you didn't quite know what to do.

"They can be rather mean," you turned to find a young red-headed woman beside you. "Not to mention jealous," she said helpfully.

"Jealous?" You were confused. They hadn't even met you. "Of me?"

"Oh, yes," she laughed a bit. "Haven't you read Lady Whistledown?"

You were embarrassed to have no idea of what she spoke, "I haven't met her. Is she in attendance?" That got an even greater laugh from your companion.

"Lady Whistledown is a gossip columnist and a rather popular one at that," she informed you, and you felt foolish for your last comment. "She wrote about you in her latest issue."

"Really?" You were stunned, as you'd only recently arrived in London.

"She predicted you'd steal the attentions of every available gentleman away from your fellow debutants," she nodded.

"No wonder they hate me," you sighed, sorry to have made a bad impression on the debutants before making their acquaintance. "Oh, I'm sorry, I still haven't introduced myself!" You were eager to make at least one good first impression.

"I'm Penelope Featherington," she said with a smile.

"I must admit, Miss Featherington," you shook your head, "I think Lady Whistledown's prediction will prove incorrect." She tilted her head and gestured for you to go on, "I've not been approached by a single gentleman."

Penelope took a quick look around the room, accidentally meeting a few pairs of eyes. Plenty of people had already been looking in your direction. She smiled a bit at your obliviousness, "I think perhaps they're just intimidated."

"Oh no," your eyes widened, "have I done something wrong?"

"Not at all," she assured you, "I think it's just... no one wants to take the first shot at a great stag and miss."

"I'm not sure I like being prey in this metaphor," you deadpanned, causing her to laugh once again.

It seemed one young gentleman mustered the courage to be the first to approach, and he really was young. "Good evening, ladies," he greeted you both, then offered you his hand, "would you care to dance?"

You placed your hand lightly in his but sent Penelope a look as he led you off. She giggled as you went. From there, you were off to the races. Dance after dance, gentleman after gentleman, you were exhausted.

"Please excuse me, sir, I'm feeling rather parched," you did not even recall this one's name.

"Oh no, please, my lady, I shall fetch a beverage for you," he nodded, "stay right there! Don't move!" He kept eye contact with you as he walked backward a few paces. You couldn't help but walk backward away from him, and you continued to do so even after he'd scurried off.

In fact, you retreated so far back that you retreated right into someone else's back. You both turned.

“You rather love bumping into me,” the gentleman you’d seen earlier said.

“Excuse me?” You certainly hadn’t seen him before this morning, so you had no idea what he meant by that smart comment. Your offense at his statement outweighed the sway of his good looks, unlike earlier.

“This makes twice,” he insisted, “once chasing after your ravens and once just now.”

It took you a second to catch up, “It was you I knocked over in the park earlier?!” Embarrassment rolled over you like a wave. “Oh God,” this was awful, “I am so incredibly sorry. Truly, I am mortified. And I would have apologized earlier, I-“

He only laughed a bit, “It’s quite alright. I got the sense you were in a rush.” His teasing tone brought a smile to your face.

“They’re usually so well-behaved,” you assured him, “I’m afraid my sister was behind the debacle.”

“Oh, yes, she was sitting with Hyacinth, was she not?”

“You know Miss Hyacinth?”

The gentleman grinned and bowed, “Benedict Bridgerton, her brother.”

“Very nice to meet you,” you smiled, “officially.”

“I’m not sure I caught your name,” right as he asked, you heard it being called.

“My lady?” You whipped around, and spotted the gentleman you’d abandoned searching for you. Wincing, you scuttled toward the closest pillar and ducked behind it. Benedict stayed put, but watched you run off with great amusement. After a moment, he chose to follow you.

“Are you hiding?” He teasingly asked.

You peered around the pillar, hoping the man had walked away. When you saw he hadn’t, you ducked away again, “yes!”

Benedict blinked at you, smiling, “Why?”

“My feet hurt,” you confessed, “I have danced every dance. I haven’t sat down in hours. Frankly, I’m surprised so many are interested after my jaunt through the park.”

“Perhaps they were impressed by your display of athleticism,” a crooked grin crossed his face. You leveled him with a look.

“There you are, my lady,” you jolted at the foreign voice, and Benedict had to clap a hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter. “I could not find you, so I’m afraid I drank your lemonade as well,” you could see Benedict’s shoulders shake with laughter, “Are you ready for our next dance?”

A look of pure horror must have crossed your face, because Benedict finally intervened, “I’m afraid she’s promised the next dance to me.” He pulled a pencil from a pocket in his jacket and outstretched one hand to you. You held out the arm your dance card was attached to, “In fact, I’ve very generously been granted all her remaining dances.” He winked at you as he filled in the four remaining spots. You fought off a grin.

“I see,” the man you interrupted you said sourly. He turned on his heel and marched away. Neither you nor Benedict could stop your laughter at his reaction.

“It is not my intention to further burden your feet,” he assured you after a moment, “I only hoped to dissuade him.”

“You did a fine job,” you grinned at him, “you have my gratitude.”

“I think I rather scandalized him,” Benedict chuckled, and you shook your head.

“It seems rather easy to scandalize this lot,” you said.

“Well, you’re right about that,” he nodded.

You sighed, “I think they’re all so concerned with presenting themselves as proper and important they forget to consider anyone else. Not one man I danced with asked me about myself.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Benedict shook his head, “I hope the rest of your evening is more relaxing.”

“Thank you,” you nodded at him, “at the very least, I know my dogs will listen to me when I return to them.”

Benedict laughed at that and slightly bowed towards you again, “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, my lady. I hope to bump into you again soon.”

Your eyes widened, “Maybe not bump.”

“Goodnight,” he smiled at you and nodded before leaving you free to go find somewhere to sit.

Soon enough, you father found you relaxing on a chaise lounge in a nearby study. He only shook his head, and offered you his arm to depart.

——————————————

The next morning brought with it house calls. You’d been hoping to spend a quiet morning working on a new piece for the harp, as you’d forgone practice the day before. But, much to your chagrin, you were forced to dress and be presentable within only ten minutes of your waking.

It didn’t take long for the sitting room to be bombarded with interested parties, though none were interested enough to truly speak with you. Each brought with him a new bouquet of flowers, and you soon grew worried you’d start sneezing uncontrollably. Eventually, you became so overwhelmed that you bribed poor Abigail to keep them occupied while you disappeared.

The only question she had for you was if you cared what she did to them. You’d given her free rein. With one look at her wicked grin, you fled the room.

Quickly turning the corner to another hallway, you quite nearly crashed into someone.

“That was almost three,” Benedict joked with you.

“Almost,” you highlighted, “but only a close call.”

“True,” he nodded.

"What brings you here?"

Benedict smiled, "I had hoped to call on you. Have I caught you at a bad time?"

"Not at all," you shook your head jovially.

"Excellent! I brought a gift," he produced a brown paper bag. You were slightly confused but glad for something other than flowers.

"Thank you," you reached for it, but he pulled it back.

"Not for you," he shook his head. You blinked back at him, wide-eyed. "Unless you have a proclivity for raw steak." Benedict laughed at the shock on your face, "I thought Huginn and Muninn might enjoy a treat."

A surprised smile eased onto your face. Your eyes sparkled as you looked at him, "I'm sure they'll appreciate it."

"Do you think they might also appreciate a walk in the park?" He asked, "A chance at redemption?"

"I think they'd like that," you grinned widely as Benedict smiled and offered you his arm.

---------------------------------------------------------

He didn't ask a single question! And he was wearing these- FUGLY jeans

Lol I've been toying with this idea since S3 part 1 came out, hope you liked it! I let her live in 2005 Mr. Darcy's luxurious mansion so you're welcome

(sorry for obscure norse mythology references)

[woso-dreamzzz]

Escape

Bruna Vilamala x Eriksson!Reader

Summary: You need an escape plan

"Oof! Frido! Get off!"

Your sister's friend came crashing into you the moment the whistle blew. You couldn't quite keep your balance and tumbled to the ground, bringing Frido down with you.

"Off!"

"Never!" She declared, ruffling your hair as you tried to scramble away.

It was a healthy defeat for Wolfsburg against Barcelona - one that you had predicted when you woke up that moment - but it still didn't mean that you weren't a bit annoyed.

"Come on! I'm not a baby!"

"You're such a baby! Little baby Eriksson at Wolfsburg!"

"I hate you!"

"No, you don't!"

You finally escaped her, only to run straight into Ingrid, who took you to the ground as well.

You sent a look to Lena, who tried to scamper off as well but was caught by Frido and tugged to the floor too.

"Look at these little babies!" Frido cajoled," Trying to get away without getting hugs from us. Honestly, Ingrid, the youth these days."

"Oh, yeah," You said sarcastically," Because you two are such old hags."

"Hey, watch it." She waved a teasing finger in your face. "Or I'll tell you sister that you're bullying me."

"You'll get no sympathy from her."

You managed to flip Ingrid onto her back and immediately tackled Frido to the ground. The momentary distraction from both of them allowed you and Lena to make your escape, sprinting across the field through the sea of Wolfsburg and Barcelona girls so Frido and Ingrid couldn't find you.

"Come on," Lena tugged you through the crowd," They're going to find us!"

She was right, of course. You could just make out Ingrid and Frido making their way through the group, temporarily waylaid by greeting their old teammates.

"There's nowhere to go," You answered, scrambling to find somewhere to hide.

This happened every time you faced either of them. The tackling to the ground which was usually followed by being thrown over their shoulders and carted around like a prize.

Frankly, it was humiliating.

Even more so when your sister texted you the videos that surfaced online about it.

You were adamant about not letting Magda have more blackmail material on you - especially now that you and her played in the same country.

As you and Lena put your heads together to scheme, a throat cleared behind you.

Originally thinking it was Frido, you jumped a foot into the air and whipped around, hands already up to defend yourself.

But, thankfully, it wasn't.

"Oh," You said, trying to calm your beating heart," Hello."

Jana Fernández and Bruna Vilamala stood just in front of you. Both had played today, looking a bit sweaty and red in their Barcelona jerseys.

Vilamala, in particular, seemed incredibly red, eyes wide when you caught them.

"Hola," Jana said, nudging Bruna in the stomach and pointedly jerking her head towards you.

"H-Hola," Bruna finally said," Er...I was...Would you..."

"Bruna wants your shirt," Jana cut in," She thinks you're super cool."

The words caught you off guard and you felt your face heat up. "Oh..." You caught Bruna's eyes again. "I think you're pretty cool too."

Lena snickered behind you and you stamped on her foot.

"We've got to go," She hissed at you, tugging on your arm," Frido and Ingrid'll find us soon."

You rolled your eyes. "Shut up, Lena," You said through gritted teeth," Don't ruin this for me." You took a bold step forward, towards Bruna and stripped your shirt. You made a point of flexing as you did so, accentuating your muscles and smirking at her.

You held it out to her - noting the way she fought to keep her eyes above your shoulders. "You know," You took another step forward," This is usually the part where you give me your shirt too. But, if you want me just in my bra, I'm happy to accommodate. It's just, I've got to escape Frido and Ingrid soon and I don't want to flash anyone when I start running."

"Oh, er, yeah." She hurriedly stripped her shirt and you pulled it on, spying Frido just breaking through the crowd.

"We've got to go!" Lena insisted, slowly backing away.

"I think it suits me," You ignored her, speaking straight at Bruna who looked like a deer in headlights," I think it'd suit you to have my name on your back too."

Her blush got deeper and her tongue darted out to wet her dry lips.

"Tell you what," You said," You help me escape Frido and Ingrid and I'll come and find you later. I know this excellent restaurant nearby. I'd love to take you out to dinner."

Ingrid joined Frido at the edge of the crowd.

You pressed a kiss to Bruna's warm cheek and winked.

"Make your decision, Vilamala, 'cause I've really got to go."

[itadores]

to the rescue!

synopsis: when you get cat-called on the street, who will come to your rescue?

note: he's such a cutie pie ^-^

pairing: nirei akihiko x gender neutral reader

word count: 1.4k

tags: gender neutral reader (they/them pronouns used), harassment (reader receiving), physical violence, first meetings

Free days are few and far between for you. Between club activities, a part-time job, and classes, the number of days you have free from all of that are rather limited. That's why you decide on your off-day, you're going to enjoy yourself. You're not going to think about any of your responsibilities, and instead, take yourself out around Makochi. You haven't had a chance to do so in a while, so it's perfect timing.

You make quick work of getting ready, packing a bag with all of the necessities for the day before leaving your apartment. It doesn't take you long to reach the main street, your apartment only a short walk away. Although you've walked this street many times before, it feels different since you're not in a rush to get from one place to another.

Today, you can simply enjoy yourself.

The sudden sound of somebody wolf-whistling at you makes you tense up, but you continue onward, walking further down the street. You don't look in the direction of the man who made the sound, hoping that your lack of response will make him drop it and leave you alone. Maybe, he wasn't even directing his attention at you, and you were being assumptive.

Unfortunately, you aren't that lucky.

"Where you going all by yourself, baby?"

Ignore. Ignore. Ignore.

Your hands tighten around the straps of your bag as you quicken your pace, going from a leisurely stroll to a brisk walk. You don't want to make a scene and out-right run, but you really want to put as much distance between you and this man as much as possible.

The air escapes you when a rough hand grabs the crook of your elbow, forcefully stopping you in your tracks.

"Hey, I was talking to you." The man’s voice hardens as his grip on your elbow borders on bruising. An involuntary yelp makes its way past your lips. "There's no need to rush sweetheart."

He’s in your personal space now, his face much too close to your own, but you still refuse to look at him. You don’t want to look at him.

“Please let go of me,” you weakly say, still clinging onto some semblance of hope that this man will somehow lose interest in you and let you be. It’s illogical, but you can’t squash that hope.

Even with your face turned away from the man, you can still see how his ugly cracked lips pull into a grin. Your stomach twists at the sight.

“Now, why would I do that?”

He leans in even closer, his breath hitting your cheek. Your face scrunches in disgust, and you screw your eyes shut, bracing yourself for whatever's to come.

"Leave them alone!"

The loud shout startles you, your eyes flying wide open and landing on a wavy-haired blond man, who's quickly making his way over to you. He ends up stopping just short in front of you, close enough for you to make out the smattering of freckles across his face.

It's a bad time for the thought to pop into your head, but he's kind of cute.

You're drawn out of your thoughts when the grip on your elbow tightens even more, causing you to grimace in pain. You try and squirm out of the man's hold, but he holds you still.

"This doesn't involve you, so why don't you just let us be?"

The blond's face hardens, his brows knitting tightly together.

"I can't do that when it's clear that they're not interested, and you're harassing them."

The blond's words ignite something in your harasser because he suddenly releases his grip on you, making you stumble slightly, to focus his attention on the other man. You take the opportunity to scamper backwards, away from the confrontation.

"What's your problem, man? Don't you know better than sticking your head in matters that have nothing to do with you?" He stalks forward, approaching the blond until he's nearly chest to chest with him. He's a good head or so taller than the blond, and worry starts to bloom in your chest.

Is that guy going to be alright?

Despite the height difference, the blond is seemingly unafraid, squaring his shoulders as he meets the man's heavy gaze. However, you notice there's an imperceptible shake to the blond, which he hides by balling his hands into fists.

"It's my business when you're harassing innocent people."

That seems to be the last straw for the man because he lifts his fist, ready to beat on the blond. You gasp and look away, unable to watch the man who intervened on your behalf get hit. There’s a loud thump and an accompanying grunt. Once you muster up the courage, you hazard a glance over at the scene, pleasantly surprised when you see your harasser on the ground rather than the blond. Well, the blond is on the ground, crouched with his knees and forearms tucked under him, but he looks relatively unharmed in comparison to the other man, who’s splayed out on the concrete unconscious.

The blond quickly springs up, dusting off his pants before coming up to you.

"Are you alright?" he asks, concern seeping into his voice. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"I'm alright," you slowly respond, still in a state of shock. Your elbow throbs when you try and relax your arm, causing you to wince and reminding you of your injury. Your other hand comes to clutch it, which doesn't go unnoticed by the blond.

"Oh no! You're hurt."

"It's okay," you rush out. When you're met with an unsure, disbelieving look, you try and assure the blond. "Really, I'll be fine. It's just some bruising that will go away soon enough."

"If you say so," he responds, entirely unconvinced. “If you need some ice for it, you can get some from Cafe Pothos. I’m sure that the worker there would be willing to give you some.”

“Thanks,” you say, rubbing your elbow to ease the pain as well as your nerves. Now that you’re no longer in any imminent danger, you’re becoming increasingly aware of how cute the man in front of you. You clear your throat before saying more.

“And thank you for intervening. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you didn’t step in when you did.”

A light blush spreads across the blond’s cheeks as he sheepishly rubs the back of his head. “It was no problem at all! I’m just glad that you’re okay.”

Oh, you think. You may be in trouble because he’s really cute when he’s blushing.

“What’s your name?” you blurt out.

The suddenness of your question catches you both off guard, but luckily the blond recovers before you have a chance to beat yourself up over it.

“Nirei Akihiko. Sorry for not introducing myself earlier.” The blond, Nirei, punctuates the end of his sentence with a slight bow. You do the same as you introduce yourself.

"Nirei," you say, testing out how his name sounds coming from your mouth. You find that you like the weight of it on your tongue. "Well, thank you once more, Nirei. I really appreciate your help."

Sensing that the conversation may be coming to an end, you go out on a limb to ask Nirei one more question.

"Do you think I could get your number? Just in case if I find myself needing your help again?" Your voice takes on a light-hearted tone at the end, a cheeky smile slipping onto your lips. You might as well make the best out of a bad situation.

Nirei looks taken aback by the question, a blush painting his cheeks once more when your words process in his mind.

"O-oh, sure!"

"Perfect," you reply, beaming. Mindful of your injury, you rummage through your bag, searching for your phone. Once you find it through the clutter, you hand it to Nirei, allowing him to input his contact information. You add a little smiley face emoji by his name when he hands you your phone back.

"I know I sound like a broken record, but thank you again, Nirei." You give him a little wave as you get ready to depart. "I'll see you around?"

"Y-yeah! I'll see you," he replies, sounding a little dazed.

It makes you giggle lightly as you begin to make your way down the street you were walking along before you were interrupted. Although you could have gone without the cat-calling today, you're glad you got to meet Nirei.

You'll definitely be reaching out to him sooner rather than later.

[saintbarou]

tags: kissing // established relationship // alcohol mention // female reader // et me know if i miss something.

when john marston gets drunk you know to watch yourself. you’ll never know when you’ll be dragged into his lap, being loved up on in front of the whole camp - despite his usual sober reservations about displays of affection. it’s how you know he loves you, according to the words of dutch and hosea. they both laugh at your flushed cheeks and embarrassed squeaks as john makes his drunken, stumbling way to you to kiss at your face and lips.

“c’mere my angel. let me - let me love you on you a bit.” he mumbles to you, slurring his words as big hands settle on your hips and bring you close to him. he was wearing the black button up you like the most in him, with the sleeves rolled up to show his forearms. you have your hands wrapped around his wrists, squirming in his grasp as stubble covered lips press kiss after kiss on your jaw and cheek.

“john, john wait - please!” you whine, embarrassed because you can hear the amused laughs of the girls that watch as this tall, broad man merely bends in half to press sloppy affections on your skin.

“c’mon now darlin’, don’t deny a man thats loves you.” he laughs, rickety and rough against your softness and lets his hands wander, skirting around the tops of you ass only laugh again at how you squeeze out of his grasp and turn to hiss at him, with wide eyes and hot ears.

“john marston you sober yourself up before you ever set your hands on me again.”

“of course my darling - whatever, whatever you say.” he laughs again, running a hand over his face but even that does not wipe the smile on his scarred, handsome face. he watches you, as you scamper off to your wagon to hide away from a few men who wolf whistle still at your demonstration of affection.

before you fully let the tent flap close, he catches your gaze - an accident but he can see the fluttering of affection dancing in your irises and painting the edge of your embarrassed smile as you look at him before letting the fabric. john smiles, drunk off more than just liquor and turns to go back to fire. as he goes he mutters to himself,

“what a woman.”

[beefrobeefcal]

Beefro proudly presents:

a Joel Miller & his Darlin' drabble: Just Wanted To Hear Your Voice Summary: You go for a night out and your minds wanders back to the man you share a home with. (Post Outbreak)

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader | Rating: 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 1,245

Content Warning: allusions to smut, swearing, Joel & Darlin' being cuddle bugs

Author's Notes: this whole thing is courtesy of @iamasaddie & their prompt challenge. Thank you to @noxturnalpascal for being so sensible in their support and betaing this for me.

The need to socialize was something you’d not anticipated to ever feel again. After everything ended, normalcy became fight or flight and socializing for fun was a thing of the past. That is, until you and Joel had settled in Jackson. Being that you now no longer had to wonder where your next meal was coming from or had to keep looking over your shoulder for another threat, things that hadn’t held weight in years were starting to make their way back into your life.

“I’m goin’ out tonight.”, you said nonchalantly as you buttoned up your flannel shirt.

Looking up at your reflection, you caught Joel giving you a small smirk as he hoisted himself up from the bed.

He came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you flush with his big middle.

“Goin’ out? With who?”, he said in a hushed tone, pressing kisses to your neck.

“Maria, Dajana, Lisbeth… the usual suspects.”

 “Ah, ‘s a girls night out.”

“Yeah. ‘S why you’re not invited.”

Joel chuckled and playfully gave your ass a spank.

*****

When you’d gotten home from working in the kitchen, you’d quickly cleaned up and changed, nervously anticipating something that you’d long since given up on ever doing again. You ran down the stairs just as Joel walked in the door and saw you in a dress.

He let out a long, low whistle. “You sure you’re goin’ out, Darlin’?”

You smiled at him, did a spin to show off your outfit, and Joel licked his lips. He nodded his head at you, and crooned, “Get over here. Need a closer look.”

The clock on the wall read that you were already in danger of being late, so you shook your finger at him with a smile as you tried to pass him to get to the door. Despite his added weight, he was still quick enough to catch you.

“You behave tonight. And have fun.”, he said against your mouth between kisses.

“Can’t do both at the same time, Joel.”, you teased. Giving him one last kiss, you squirmed out of his grip and scampered out the door.

*****

You’d lost count of how many rounds your table had ordered at the Tipsy Bison, and you were thoroughly enjoying yourself. Feeling the alcohol dampen your senses in a euphoric way, you found yourself lost in thought over how the luxury of letting loose was now something you had.

The conversation at the table moved easily through different topics, starting tame with things like the weather and town events and then slipped into gossip, giggled between sips of beer and bouts of laughter. The subject of sex came up and you sat back with a wide grin as the women went back and forth over just about anything and everything that could potentially fall under the umbrella of sex. One had a complaint about their partner that they expressed in a hilarious anecdote, another regaled the table with a story about almost getting caught by her in-laws giving a blow job. Tears were in your eyes from laugher, and when it was your turn to speak, you paused, keenly aware that Joel’s sister-in-law was sitting at the table. Instead of sharing how Joel pulled you apart with almost surgical precision before he fucked you into oblivion, you settled for one of your favourite things about him.

“I love his voice. The way he talks.”, you smile, looking at your half full glass of beer with a small smile.

“Joel is not what I would a talkative man. You sure we’re talking about the same guy?”, Lisbeth teased.

“The man knows exactly what to say.”, you chuckled, feeling your cheeks heat up. Realizing that everyone at the table assumed you were referring exclusively to Joel’s dirty talk, you saved yourself the embarrassment of getting sentimental and stated, “He saves his daily word count for nocturnal activities.”

The knowing looks and nods around the table followed by agreement and similar sentiments allowed your mind to wander to Joel. Sure, his bedroom talk was just something else, but his voice -  now that was what you loved. The non-verbal sounds he made: the grunts, the huffs, the chuckles, the sighs, the moans, the breaths, the whines, the whimpers, the growls, the hums…

You’d learned that Joel was more than the words he said long before you realized you loved him. Just the slight pitch change in a groan was enough to tell you it was safe to push or to retreat. Being allowed to get close enough to learn this about him was not just a point of pride, it was something you cherished.  In turn, Joel could read you well enough to know if he could move forward or let you take the lead.

You were shaken from your thoughts by Dajana nudging you with a laugh.

“Daydreaming about that dick, huh?”

You laughed and agreed, not yet ready to delve into the depths of how bad you had it for Joel. “Speakin’ of – I’m gonna head out.”

The women all half-heartedly tried to get you to stay as they one by one all decided to head home. You bid them good night and paid your tab on the way out the door.

*****

“You’re home early, baby. Everything okay?”, Joel asked softly with brows furrowed as you walked in. He was sitting in the armchair in front of fire with a small knife and a little wooden giraffe he was carving in his hands.

You said nothing, keeping eye contact as you took off your jacket and walked towards him. He watched you, seeing the telltale haze of beer in your eyes and held his hand out for you. You took it and crawled onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling his head against your chest. He wrapped his arms around your middle and held you close, letting out a content hum and your heart swelled. The rhythm of his breaths was even and soothing.

You held each other for an indeterminate period of time, each relishing in the other’s comfort and yet existing as one. The pleasant cocoon was paused as Joel moved his head and nudged his nose against your chin, silently asking for you to look at him.

When you did, he gave a soft smile that traveled to his eyes and his brought his hand to your cheek. “You okay?”

“Keep talking…”, you hummed in response.

Joel huffed a laugh and eyed you, “Darlin’… you’re home early an’awfully cuddly.”

You smiled and a soft giggle hovered in your throat as you closed your eyes.

“Come on, baby. Talk to me. Somethin’ happen or one of th – “

“I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Joel pulled back and looked up at you, confusion written on his face. His brows raised and the confusion melted into amusement.

“Darlin’, you’re drunk.”

You let a laugh out, echoing through the house like chimes. “Maybe, but I know I love you.”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you froze. You and Joel had never said it to one another. You felt Joel pull you into him again, coaxing your tense body to relax. The small sound he made in response, the pitch and tone and the timber, the way you felt the sound vibrate from him through to you more than you heard it… it was all you needed to know he loved you, too.

[alice-angel12x]

Death is always around the corner

Leona + Death!Reader

Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, Vil, Idia, Malleus

Let's set the Scene: Masterlist

Something was off about this Mirror ceremony, Crowley could feel it. But decided to shack it off and continue with the ceremony.

As the night continued, all the new students were neatly sorted into dorms. There was just one coffin left, and just as he was about to insert the key to unlock the coffin. The coffin began to thrash and shack, as puffs of blue fire spewed out from the creaks in the coffin. The headmaster quickly stepped away from the coffin when the lid suddenly blasts off its hinges in a blaze of fire.

From the coffin, a grey cat creature with blue fire ears skitted across the ground. The crowd of students stared in confusion till something caught their attention. An eerie whistle could be heard from the smoking coffin. Out from the smoke steeped a mysterious figure. A figure dressed in the school's ceremonial robes stepped out into the chamber. They stood unnaturally still as the hood of their robe completely obscured their face as they continued to eerily whistle.

"U-Um, excuse me young...Um... You could have waited a few seconds longer till I opened the gate. Anyways please present yourself to the dark mirror," Crowley stuttered as he hurried the stranger.

The mirror awakened to look at the figure, and only stared in... fear?

"Ugh, I can smell... a disgusting amount of blot," The figure spat.

🦁Leona Kingscholar🦁

Now our story starts a bit earlier than expected. In a large greenhouse is where our story begins for this chapter. While Ace and deuce went to look for baskets, Grim was forced to partner with...Y/n. They smiled ever so slightly, kneeling down with hands outstretched. Inviting Grim to climb onto their shoulder, but Grim arched his back as his fur stood on end. The fire cat quickly walked ahead, as Y/n simply followed behind.

As the two walked in silence, Y/n didn't see the tail laid across their path.

"AAGH!" Growled a voice as a swift motion, whacked Grimm off his feet.

Grim quickly scampered behind Y/n for protection as a lion beastmen stood to his feet in annoyance. Leona growled as he faced the the two.

“You got some nerves stepping on my tail and just walking away,” Leona scoffed.

“A-are you the groundskeeper?” Grimm asked nervously.

“Nothing worse than napping and minding my own business only for some low life to step on my tail,” Leona growled.

Yet Y/n smiled in amusement, much to Leona’s annoyances. Leona knew this was the strange new student, this is his first time seeing them up close. Yet when he leaned in to smell this strange student, there was no scent.

“I’m not sorry, you shouldn’t be resting near where people walk. And someone of your standing should have better things to do,” Y/n simply.

“Grrr! I am not in the best of moods, and I think it’s only fair rip out your younger and show you your places,” Leona snarled as he prepared to fight.

“Oh, a lazy glutton of a lion thinks he scares me? Haha, this is cute,” Y/n laughed, unbothered by his threats.

Leona tried to throw punches at the figure, but they dodged with little effort. All the while criticizing his skill. Leona’s anger grew more and more. He pulled out his magic pen and began to fire off spells at Y/n, who pulled out their scythes and effortlessly deflected the magic.

Know it was Y/n's turn. With terrifying speed, y/n charged Leona. With a swift but strong kick to the chest, shoving Leona into a metal pole. The lion prince groaned in pain as he tried to raise his pen to compose himself. Only for Y/n to swipe the pen out of his hands, and with the other brought down the scythe. leaving a minor cut over his scar.

"Leona!" a voice called.

Leona turned to see Ruggie making his way over with his lunch. The prince swiftly turned back to look at Y/n, but they and Grim were gone.

Leona knew from then on, that this Y/n person was not someone to underestimate. As long as they stay out of his business, then he had nothing to worry about.

But that didn't last long when Crowley ordered Y/n to investigate the strange and spiking accidents around the school. Promising to let them participate in the magic shift tournament.

Y/n already knew who was behind this but decided to let Grim earn his reward. And decided to play the investigation game, but that doesn't mean they won't pay them a visit.

As Leona and Ruggie discussed their plan, Leona noticed a figure in the shadow, it was Jack.

"What are you doing here late in the night? Are you so homesick that you need someone to sing you a lullaby?" Leona smirked.

"I want to know the reason why you’re doing this," Jack growled.

" I see now. You want to hear a bedtime story, huh. Fine, I’ll tell you. For two years in a row now, we’ve always lost at the first match against Diasomnia and Malleus. Ever since we went against them, our dorm, which was known for making opponents tremble, looks like weak kittens now," Leona explained.

"Doing something as low as cheating is wrong!" Jack growled.

"Jack… I’m doing this because I’m concerned about the students’ futures, you know? f the whole world sees us defeat Malleus, all those offers will come back to Savanaclaw together with our dignity.  Are you planning on ruining your seniors’ futures?" Leona said with a slight glare.

"Th-that’s…! I’m sure you can take Malleus on if you play with your full potential, Perfect!" Jack tried to reason.

But Leona had enough and set everyone out of his room, wanting peace and quiet and to go to bed. Bed just as he was about to relax an eerie whistle. His hair stood on end as his arms trembled.

"For the future of your dormmates huh? This is the dumbest lie I have ever heard from you," Y/n laughed as they fiddled with some of Leona's jewelry. As they sat in the window.

"What are you doing here?!" Leona hissed, baring his teeth.

"Just wanted to hear the justifications behind your actions. I'm surprised a lazy cat like you has the brain capacity to think of something like this. Especially since it seems you can't do the bare minimum to do something as simple as graduating," Y/n mocked with their haunted red eyes.

"Shut up!" Leona growled as he grabbed a vase.

Y/n chuckled as they playfully dogged a vase Leona threw at them. Leona backed away slowly as Y/n stepped into the room. They sat down at the table and pulled a book from their hood. A book with his name on it.

"I'll cut to the chase. I know you gave from the start, I can't wait to see you fail miserably," Y/n chuckled.

"You don't know that," Leona spat.

"So why not just... Rest forever?" Y/n as they opened Leona's book to the final page. The wanted poster. "Just sign right here."

Y/n said as they tapped the dead print.

"Is this some sick Joke!?" Leona growled as he raised his pen.

Y/n simply stared at Leona, studying him. Eventually, they closed the book and vanished into the shadows.

"See you soon," Y/n said as they whistled into the night.

Ruggie came rushing through the door and was shocked to see Leona frozen and in fear.

But they continued with the plan, but with the help of jack. Malleus and the rest of Diasomnia were safe. But this broke what little motivation Leona had, giving up then and there.

This did not go well with the dormmates that followed him this far. But this only deeply annoyed Leona, as his magic started to go wild.

He held Ruggie aloft as he began to turn everything to sand, and dry out the poor hyena boy. Y/n growled dangerously as they swiped at Leona, dropping the poor boy.

Before Ruggie could hit the ground, Y/n caught him and handed the boy to Jack to keep him safe.

_____________________________________________________________

As Leona sat in his world of darkness, an eerie whistle snapped him out of his stupor.

"What's wrong Lives flashing before your eyes?" Y/n asked as they held their scythes.

"So that's who you really are, Death," Leona glared. "So you've come for me, after seeing all I have been through."

"Yes, and I am not impressed. Even if you were to be the firstborn, your attitude and lazy habits would still make people doubt you. Even so You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth, and have great privileges compared to those around you," Y/n snarled.

Leona still looking defeated didn't even turn to Look at Y/n.

"So, No matter what I do I will never be more th-" But Leona was cut off with a powerful punch to the left side of his face.

"You Never Tried! So you have no right to make that excuse. You just sat your @$$ down and pitted yourself. I have been here since the dawn of time and your experience is nothing unique," Y/n scoffed as they pummeled Leona.

"You Could have been great, but you wasted every opportunity your statues served to you on a silver platter. I have seen many second princes who were fronted with the same issues as you, they didn't take it sitting down. They went out I did something about it. Many even had more impact than their kings," Y/n continued as they held up the wanted poster. " Sign it."

Leona covered with bruises stared at the poster, as his life flashed again. As Y/n watched they could see something shift, not entirely, but it was a start. As Leona struggled to stand and spit a bit of blood out of his mouth.

"You know what. No, I'm going to live to spite you," Leona coughed. " And prove every single one of you wrong."

Y/n stared into Leona's eyes and smirked as they lowered their blade from Leona's neck. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

"Well prove it," Y/n smirked warmly, as they exited through a door of light.

Leona woke up, much to everyone's relief. Leona noticed as Everyone gathered around, Y/n stood off by themselves. Jack is the only one to approach with no fear.

Leona composed himself and challenged Y/n to Magishift. Saying in a battle he could never win, but in a game of skill, maybe.

Y/n smiled warmly and accepted the challenge, it's been a long time since they were invited to play in a game. If only there wasn't so much blot gathering.

[the-kr8tor]

Star anise for Peter in a ❣️ bottle. Where reader is the antagonist in the script and Peter is the main character. Silly goofiness commences once the director yells cut. Please!

*kicking my feet* hehehe actor! Peter 🥴 thank you! I hope you like your potion, bestie! ❤️

Pairing: Actor! Peter Parker x GN! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, CW blood mention, CW violence mention (both are fake though), FLUFF!

Katy's one year celebration 🎉

The knife in your hand trembles as sheer anger permeates through your body. There's crimson coating your hands and face, he swallows thickly at your deranged appearance, neck bobbing up and down, skin nicked by the sharp edge of your knife.

“Please don't,” he pleads, his own hands around your wrist, trying to stop the weapon from plunging into his soft skin. “You don't have to do this.” A single tear slides down his cheek, you inhale sharply at his attempt.

“Don't you see?” You seethe, teeth and jaw clenched. “It's already done.” Before the knife strikes him, you hear a loud whistle.

“Cut!” The director yells above the sound of fog machines. “Take a breather you two, until we set up the next scene!” The rest of the cast and crew scamper away towards the doors to be first in line for the catering truck. You and Peter stay on set, watching while everyone else leaves.

Peter snorts, giggling even though you're still above him with the fake knife aimed at his throat. “So menacing.”

You can't help but laugh as his hands fall limp at his side, with you mock stabbing him even making the iconic screeching sound from your favorite slasher movie. Peter acts dead from under you, tongue lolling out from the side of his mouth. When you tap him awake, he cracks one eye open with a growing smile on his lips. His brown hair is messed up for the scene, but he makes it work, adding to his charm.

“You were so convincing.”

“Yeah?” Peter tilts his head, hand snaking along your thighs up to your waist, holding you in place. “Did I look terrified?”

You whistle out, “Very, super scared of little old me.” Holding his hands above your waist, you squeeze and smear the fake sticky blood all over his hands. Peter lets out a disgusted sound, but he doesn't pull away.

“Careful now, you're starting to sound like your character.” You chuckle at his teasing, taking his hands off your waist to hold them properly. “Besides, I've got a great scene partner that's why I'm very convincing.” Peter responds by kneading your palms, a welcome comfort since you've been making stabbing motions for hours now.

“Oh? Who is this great scene partner so I may meet them.���

“You dork.” He says with endearment that oozes out from how he pecks each of your knuckles.

You lean down, lips puckered to meet his own lips halfway.

“Guys, come on!” The director cuts you both off, leaving you and Peter flustered, caught like a bunch of teenagers making out behind the school. “At least act like you hate each other.”

You look at Peter while he does the same, glancing at you with an amused raised brow. “Never!” You both say at the same time to the sighing director. Meanwhile he mumbles about how the audience will see the romantic tension between your characters instead of the opposite. His words fall on deaf ears as you and Peter look at each other warmly.

Peter makes his point across the moment the director turns his back. He pushes you gently downwards, warm hand upon the small of your back, lips smiling mischievously. You follow, hands braced on his chest, leaning down to press a sweetened kiss that has been made sweeter by the fake yet edible blood coating your lips.

Maybe they shouldn't hire real life partners to play on opposing sides.

[fandomlit]

and scene (sbi x reader)

summary you make the mistake of telling your friends that your sociology class is boring. they change that for a day.

warnings swearing, implications of suggestive themes, fighting (but playfully)

a/n aka i’ve been watching too much gilmore girls lately

gif cred belongs to @m-iyaeto​

in a lecture hall with two hundred students, it was easy to get bored. it was rare that the professor’s eye was tuned directly into one particular student, and even more rare that that student was you. sociology was an interesting topic, but not interesting enough to keep you from nearly sliding out of the small, cramped seat as you dozed off.

your attention was finally grabbed when the door slammed open. you sat up straight in your seat as a familiar blur stormed toward the row you sat at, demanding, “y/n l/n!”

of course, it only could’ve been wilbur soot.

the entire class stopped short to ogle at the tall man now staring down across four students to where you sat in your row. your professor didn’t seem to know what to say in that moment.

“where were you this morning?”

your heart was already racing from all the attention that had suddenly been turned on to you. you racked your brain but you would’ve sworn you had never made plans with wilbur for that morning, had he not been so quick to interrupt you.

“so what, it-it’s one night of hot, searing passion and then you’re gone?” he demanded, voice too loud and too clear throughout the suddenly too small lecture hall. you swore you had never felt so much heat fill your body; you had certainly not spent the night with your best friend.

“wil, wh-”

“oh, save your excuses for tonight!” he yelled out. giggles and murmurs were starting to reach your ears as you started to lift yourself out of your seat. “yeah, we’re still having dinner with my parents, by the way!”

before you could yell at him and protest, the door came crashing open for a second time. “y/n!”

it was technoblade, out of breath and gripping flowers. his vermillion gaze was locked on you and you felt like a deer suddenly in a big, bright headlight. 

“y/n, this can’t be the end for us,” technoblade spoke in his strong, powerful voice and suddenly you hated your friends so, so much. “not when i still feel this way for you.”

“you had your chance, brother!” wilbur yelled down to the longer-haired man.

your professor took this chance to speak up, “gentleman, i do not think this is the space for this dispute-”

technoblade cut him off without a thought, “you’re telling me you’re the better option out of the two of us?”

“i was the first!” wilbur started to descend down the steps again toward his brother. “she never told you about that night in the rain, did she?” that’s when technoblade threw him into a headlock and suddenly they were wrestling on the likely-disgusting carpet of the lecture hall. your classmates were cheering and laughing all around you, but you were absolutely mortified. just when you had buried your face in your hands, the door slammed open for a third time and a whistle blew in the room.

your jaw nearly hit the floor when you saw it was tommy, wearing a terribly cheap-looking policeman’s costume with the loud whistle between his lips. did they take him out of school for this?

“you two, break it up!” he yelled dramatically, tearing his brothers off of each other. “no crimes of passion in the university!” they finally broke apart in a fit of suppressed laughter and breathlessness. “see what you’ve done, y/n?” all eyes were on you again. tommy slung his arms over his brothers’ shoulders. “let this be a lesson to you all! never fall for the siren that is y/n l/n!” 

wilbur and tommy bowed as the class cheered and hollered. technoblade nodded at you and threw the bouquet of flowers. one of the guys in front of you caught it and offered it to you. you couldn’t help but let an embarrassed laugh slip as you took the arrangement into your hand. your smile made wilbur and tommy let out a loud cheer and technoblade clap before they scampered out of the class.

you threw your warm face into your hand again as the class’s excitement died down and your professor began, “well..” you heaved a loud sigh that made the girls next to you laugh again. “i think l/n here made friends with too many theater majors..” the class chuckled. “you did know those gents, correct?”

you nodded and gathered up what voice you could, “not as well as they implied, but..” the class broke into more laughter. “yes. they’re my best friends.”

“good, good,” the professor chuckled. “well class, let’s take this as an example of breaking societal norms.” you tuned the professor out again as you willed the embarrassed heat to leave your body, pressing a cool hand to your forehead.

you were going to get those damned boys back.

[mikavlcs]

Reverie

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x cryomancer!reader

Summary: In the midst of investigating, a figure from your past returns, sending you into a panic. Wednesday is there to help pick up the pieces (and maybe get some revenge too).

Warnings: panic attack, implied abuse and violence, blood, reader is a Simp, it gets a bit morbid near the end lol, abrupt ending

Word count: 5.5k (sigh)

Notes: this fic made me realize just how much i struggle with character descriptions... but anyways this is a long request for literally the nicest anon ever, whoever you are i hope you enjoy this! 

Masterlist | Part 2

Silence was something that you cherished.

Throughout the years, the numerous group homes, revolving door of foster parents, and whirlwind of schools you attended instilled a yearning for calm and quiet. A need for peace to soothe your daily anxieties.

Loud noises were bothersome, they reminded you of things better left forgotten which is why you put forth your best effort to avoid them wherever you ended up.

Nevermore Academy was no different.

Though it was a school for outcasts, it was still a school. A place that housed hundreds of rowdy, unruly teenagers for the better part of the year. And teenage outcasts were still teenagers.

You learned quickly to avoid the quad at all times of day except after curfew, the only time when it was completely empty save for some roaming teachers. 

Lunches were spent in empty classrooms instead of the cafeteria and free time was spent exploring the campus for a place to claim as your own, like you have in every place you inhabited over the years.

But luck, it seemed, was not on your side because not a single place you found fit your needs.

Sure, there were quieter places like the library or the dorms (depending on the hour), but it was rare that found a place that offered actual meaningful silence.

Surprisingly, the solution to your problem came the moment you looked beyond the cramped campus of the school, and that solution was the forest.

The vast woodland that separated Nevermore and Jericho was thick, comprised of thousands of trees, and filled with life of all kinds—tall, vibrant green trees, a myriad of bird species, scampering squirrels, and even foxes during parts of the year.  

Unfortunately, not all of the life that resided there was welcome. You heard whispers of something in the forest killing unsuspecting hikers and truckers. The mayor said it was bears, but you knew better.

Knowledge of the danger that lurked amongst the trees only made the woods that much more enticing to you. You trusted your ability to keep yourself safe with your powers. A wall of ice was a simple thing for you to create, but not for someone (or something) else to break.

The forest became your safe haven. Because of the murders, both students and Jericho residents alike tended to keep their distance, which made your solitude nearly guaranteed.

The chirping of birds in the distance and whistling of the trees in the wind made for a beautiful ambiance to read in. And it remained unequivocally yours for the first part of the semester.

Then a new student arrived mid-semester.

You never went out of your way to look for her, knowing you would hate that kind of attention yourself, but you still managed to see glimpses. Truthfully, she was hard to miss.

A girl dressed head to toe in black, twin braids framed a permanently impassive face, dead eyes set on the path in front of her. With her came a sense of foreboding, like storm clouds on the horizon. You would’ve sworn she was also a cryomancer with the way she seemed to chill the atmosphere around her.

Students parted like the Red Sea when she walked through the halls, determined to avoid her wrath. Given the few rumors you heard in passing across the school, you supposed you couldn’t blame them.

But those glimpses were few and far between, mere moments when your eyes caught a flash of monochrome, then she was gone.

She shared a handful of classes with you, but she was always seated across the room from you, just out of your sightline. By the time class ended and you got your things together to leave, she was on her way to her next class.

The first time you truly saw her was in passing.

You were at your spot in the woods, resting your back against the broad trunk of a tree as you read when the sound of approaching footsteps caught your attention. Curious, you glanced up toward the sound and sure enough, there she was a few meters away heading in your direction.

She paused when your eyes met but remained silent. The only indication of surprise was the way her eyes narrowed, brows lowering ever so slightly.

“It’s dangerous to be out here alone, you know,” she said. Her voice was cold as a winter breeze. You liked it, it suited her.

“I could say the same to you,” you shrugged, turning your attention back to your book. You kept your focus on your story, eyes dutifully scanning the sentences, but in your peripherals, you could see her still standing there.

Another moment passed before she resumed walking, heading off in the direction she had been going before and you couldn’t help the way your eyes lifted to the retreating figure, following her until she was completely out of sight.

A curious encounter, but not one you ended up giving much thought to.

Then she showed up again.

Only the very next day did she appear once more, the circumstances exactly the same as before. You read, she walked. Except this time she didn’t pause, just kept marching past you.

Same with the next day. And the next. And the next. You were almost convinced that you two had a pseudo routine when, with no warning, it changed.

One rather humid afternoon, you heard her footsteps and didn’t bother looking up, knowing she would just continue on her way. But today she didn’t. Today, her steps faltered as she went by you, and above your book, you saw her pivot.

Your eyes were drawn up by the unfamiliar movement. Brows furrowed, you watched as she settled against a tree opposite of you and rummaged around in her bag, pulling a textbook and paper out.

From where you were, you couldn’t see what the paper was, but the book you immediately recognized. It was a textbook for Botany—one of the few classes you shared with her. The paper must’ve been the homework that you finished in class.

You were almost tempted to offer your help, but you knew she had no need for it.

So you turned your attention back to your book, reading a bit slower with the distraction of the girl across from you.

The worksheet, unsurprisingly, took Wednesday all of ten minutes to complete, but she stayed there with you for the better part of the afternoon, pulling out a book after she finished the homework.

Not a word was spoken between either of you, not even an exchange of names. Just you, her, and the blissful, silent serenity of the forest around you.

She left at sundown, packing her things and walking away without sparing a glance your way. You left soon after, a smile pulling at your lips.

When she returned the next day, that same smile appeared. Even when she didn’t stop to sit.

Your pseudo routine had shifted.

Some days she left to venture into the forest, some days she stayed with you. And though you were content to just sit with her when she allowed it, you couldn’t help but wonder where she went off to on the days she chose to keep walking.

Your answer ended up coming from Enid. The girl had asked to sit next to you in Vampire Anatomy class and you didn’t have the heart to say no.

Through the blog posts that Enid insisted you read, you learned that her name was Wednesday Addams, and she was trying to find the “monster” that lurked in Jericho’s forest.

Your existing interest was piqued after that. The urge to tag along with her pulled at you every time you watched her disappear into the forest, but you tried to ignore it. 

Though true crime had always been a passing interest, it wasn’t something you knew quite enough about to be of any actual use to Wednesday.

Still, you couldn’t help but try.

When you asked to join Wednesday in her investigation, you expected a cold and firm no. Instead, she neither accepted nor declined your offer. Simply looked at you, normally dull eyes shining chaotic as lightning, then walked off into the forest, leaving you scrambling to catch up.

Thus began your actual new routine. You’d head to the forest after class, read until Wednesday arrived, and wait until she informed you of her afternoon plans.

If she sat against the tree that you’d begun to call hers, then the afternoon hours would be spent together in blissful silence. But if she didn’t, she would walk past you, only pausing briefly to spare you a glance, extending a silent invitation that you always accepted.

Afternoons that weren’t spent in the serenity of the forest were spent acquiring evidence, gathering information, and sussing out any potential suspects.

Weeks of slow, but steady progress were made (mostly by Wednesday) and you enjoyed every second of it.

She still didn’t offer up much information about herself—her likes and interests (aside from general morbidity) were never so much as alluded to during your time investigating, but you liked that. 

In your mind, she was like a puzzle that not many had the patience to put together. But you enjoyed the intrigue, savored the challenge.

You kept much of your own history to yourself as well. If asked you would say that you did it in a bid to make yourself seem more mysterious, but really you just didn’t like talking about it.

The past was something you desperately just wanted to forget and Wednesday excelled at making you do just that, even if she didn’t know it.

Before you knew it, you found yourself falling for her in a way you never had before. But who could blame you, really?

A short, but statuesque figure with eyes like black ice and a constellation of freckles scattered across her cheeks that put the stars to shame. How anyone couldn’t be entranced at first glance was beyond you.

Your closeness with Wednesday, even if only for professional purposes on her end, served to further the distance between you and your classmates but you didn’t particularly care. What they feared, you admired and while you could understand their fear, you couldn’t fathom ever being afraid of Wednesday. Even at her most grotesque, she was enchanting.

Stupid as it may be, you’d follow her anywhere. You knew that, once you exhausted your welcome, she would likely discard you, but until then you’d just sit back and enjoy the ride with her.

This sentiment led you to Outreach Day.

To put it simply, Outreach Day was a goddamn mess.

Part of your day was spent in a pilgrim-themed dystopian hellscape trying to find information on Joseph Crackstone, another deep in the forest behind Jericho, searching the dilapidated remains of a meeting house from centuries ago.

Naturally, this culminated in the two of you getting chased by the very monster you were trying to investigate, which certainly wasn’t part of your plans for the day when you woke up, but with Wednesday you never really knew what you were going to get.

Fortunately, your near-death experience wasn’t for naught because you had learned one incredibly important fact.

The monster, whatever it was, was human. It was someone that either lived in Jericho or attended Nevermore Academy with you and Wednesday. Likely, it was someone they had already interacted with, knowingly or not.

That thought haunted you the entire long walk back into Jericho. So much so that Wednesday had to tell you to calm down because you were freezing the rain around you into snow and leaving icy footprints wherever you walked.

By the time you stepped back into the town, you were ready to go to your dorm and call it a night. Thankfully, the day was almost over. The only thing standing between you and your bed was the stupid statue unveiling everyone was forced to attend.

You were walking to the town square when it happened.

Thoughts about the monster’s identity were just starting to abate, boredom taking its place as you entered Jericho proper. Wednesday was beside you, matching your strides perfectly while she talked with Thing about something you couldn’t quite hear.

Even in the middle of the day, the town wasn’t bustling (though when was it ever?). A few residents peppered the streets, going about their day quietly while you and Wednesday passed them.

You idly scanned the town goers, eyes snagging on a woman on the opposite end of the road who looked oddly familiar.

The woman had her head turned, appearing to be on the phone with someone. You watched her carefully, slowing your pace slightly, and when she finally turned her head, it instantly clicked.

Walking down that street was your former foster parent, Mary.

You could remember the day you met her like it was yesterday.

It had been years since you’d been adopted out and swiftly swept back into the system once your last family found out that you were an outcast. You’d been told that someone was finally interested in you again and you were overjoyed to meet them.

Mary was a tall woman with a kind smile and the name of a catholic saint. You weren’t religious, but you figured (hoped) that it had to mean something.

You thought her your savior, your ticket out of the system forever, and she ended up being responsible for the worst years of your life.

When you snapped back to the present, you were standing in the middle of the sidewalk. Wednesday was a few steps ahead, giving you a strange look. You wanted to explain or, better yet, grab her and drag her out of the town entirely, but it was too late. Mary was already looking your way.

Your eyes met and suddenly, you were twelve again. Angry shouts reverberated in your ears, mimicking the way they echoed off the cramped walls of the house. You saw yourself cowering in the face of her anger, shrinking into yourself as much as you could.

There was a flurry of movement, a sharp crack, and even now you swore you could feel the sting of the impact on your cheek.

She hated you, and you could still see remnants of that hatred now, even from across the street.

Distantly, you could hear Wednesday say something, but the sound was muffled by the roar of your blood in your ears. Despite the cool temperature, you were beginning to sweat, heart rate gradually picking up as you stared at the ghost from your past.

Mary hung up the phone and started toward you. That was all you needed.

The last thing you felt was the brush of cold fingers on your wrist before you ran.

You ran and ran and ran, feet carrying you as fast as physically possible. There was no real destination in mind, just away from her.

When the burning in your chest became unbearable, you stumbled into an alley. Your chest heaved and just as you were going to try and catch your breath, your legs crumpled beneath you, sending you careening into the nearest wall. You slid down to the ground and squeezed your knees to your chest.

Clarity evaded you no matter how much you tried to find it. You had seen people you knew in public before, even your other former foster parents, so you had no idea why seeing her was affecting you so badly.

Your heart pulsed endlessly in your chest, blood pumping through your veins like you were moving at a million miles per hour, yet you were frozen, your body permanently suspended in motion. A living contradiction that you couldn’t make any sense of.

The pain in your chest intensified, drawing your limbs in to try and relieve the ache. It felt as if your body was trying to collapse in on itself, like a dying star.

Tears gathered in your eyes, and you were helpless to stop them from streaming down your cheeks as the ache grew.

For an awful moment, you genuinely thought you were going to die.

A flash of movement and suddenly there was something—no, someone in front of you. They crouched before you, their face coming into view and familiar dark orbs stared at you in a way you’d never seen before.

Wednesday.

Relief momentarily cut through your misery. You figured she would find you at some point, likely after the ceremony, but the fact that she was here now made something other than agony bubble in your chest.

Suddenly, you noticed that her lips were moving. She was saying something. You tried to focus your hearing against the chaos, but nothing could be heard over the erratic beating in your chest. Frustration mounted, making you further curl into yourself.

Wednesday moved a bit closer, stopping just short of you so she was the only thing in your line of sight. This time you were just able to catch the tail end of her statement. “-st look at me.”

You complied.

“Identify five things that you can see. You don’t have to say them out loud,” she instructed you, slowly and firmly.

You took in her words, but your eyes never strayed from her.

The first thing you saw was her eyes. So dark that they appear black in most settings, but under direct sunlight they reveal themselves to be the most beautiful shade of brown you’ve ever seen. Second was her hair, the way her wet fringe clumped together, forming short tendrils on her forehead.

Next, you were drawn to the starry sea of freckles on her cheeks. The temptation to try and count them tugged at you. You disregarded it, wanting to complete the task at hand for Wednesday.

Your eyes moved to trace her jaw, number four on your list. It was clenched, the way it always was when she was either angry or worried about something. You briefly wondered which one she felt now.

Her lips were the fifth and final feature you saw. You didn’t let yourself think about them for long, simply cataloged them.

Once you mentally documented all five, you looked to Wednesday, your breaths coming somewhat more consistently.

“Got it?” she asked, voice sounding a bit clearer now. You nodded. She continued. “Alright, now four things you can feel.”

You stiffly unclasped your hands and set them on the ground at your sides.

Surprisingly, the first thing you felt beneath your fingers was the solid frigidity of ice. In your panic, you must’ve partially frozen the alleyway around you. The warmth of the air around you told you that you hadn’t frozen too much, thankfully. You counted the temperature as your second.

Third, you felt the weight of your soaked clothes. The way they clung to your skin pulled a small grimace from you. That segwayed directly into the fourth thing you felt—your wet hair. Droplets of water were still running down the back of your neck from it, making you shiver. Lastly, you felt the rough, uneven texture of the brick wall at your back.

Moving up slightly, you turned back to Wednesday, who was watching you attentively, and gave her a firmer nod. The tension in your chest was beginning to dissipate.

“Three things you can hear.”

Your ears perked and you tried to focus on the noises around you. Even on its busiest days, Jericho was a relatively quiet little town, so it was easy to hear things you normally wouldn’t be able to in more densely populated places.

The first thing your ears picked up was the chime of a ringtone a block or two away. A pop song, the kind that Wednesday detested. Second was a loud giggle from someone that sounded suspiciously like Enid. The sound of it almost made you smile. And third, the clatter of a cup onto the ground and an angry curse that immediately followed it.

Someone must’ve dropped their coffee. Again, you almost smiled. Your heart began to slow in your chest, the ache there subsiding as well.

Eyes returning to the girl in front of you, you nodded.

“Two things you can smell.”

That was easy. Wednesday’s usual scent of old books and incense was present, mixed with traces of wet grass, a reminder of your earlier excursion. Another smell you could identify was the pungent odor of days-old garbage. Your nose scrunched. Of course, you chose an alleyway with a dumpster.

Your posture loosened, muscles relaxing as you sent Wednesday yet another nod.

“One thing you can taste.”

The metallic taste of blood on your tongue almost made you startle. Pain flared in your cheek, an answer to your question of where it came from. You weren’t sure when you bit it, and presently, you didn’t really care.

Swallowing harshly, you gave the girl before you a shaky thumbs up. The firm set of her jaw relaxed as she continued to observe you. You returned the favor, gently resting your chin on your knees as you watched her.

“Who was she?” she asked, tone softer than usual.

Not expecting the question, you blinked. “Hm?”

“The woman, who was she?”

You swallowed. This was never something you wanted Wednesday to know about, but you supposed she deserved some sort of explanation after helping you. 

“Former foster parent. Just one of the many people to hurt me over the years,” you admitted with a wry chuckle.

Wednesday didn’t laugh.

The faint sound of instruments caught your attention. It seemed that you were officially missing the unveiling.

“Shouldn’t you be playing?” you asked, remembering Weems’ comment about Wednesday’s cello earlier that day.

“The Jericho high school band doesn’t need me. You do. Weems will get over it.” She maneuvered herself to sit down next to you, bringing her knees up to mimic your pose. The space between you was virtually nonexistent, but she still wasn’t quite touching you, which you appreciated.

A few minutes passed in silence. The lingering effects of your panic began to fade, leaving behind an all-encompassing tiredness that nearly made you slump over. 

Beside you, Wednesday sat perfectly still, occasionally sending glances that you pretended not to notice for her sake.

The chill she emanated was too soothing for you to really care about it anyways. You resisted the urge to lean closer, to steal more of it for yourself. But you just further lowered your body temperature with your powers instead.

You rested your head back against the wall. Honestly, just being within such close proximity of Wednesday was nice. You swore you could stay sitting there all day with her if time allowed…

An explosion in the distance made you jump. Concerned, you turned to Wednesday who looked much too unsurprised for it to be a coincidence. Only now did you notice Thing’s conspicuous absence. Brows furrowing, you leaned forward. “Wednesday, what did you do?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” she replied easily, lips quirking at the screams of terror that arose from the town square. Promptly, she stood and tilted her head down at you. “Come on, we need to secure our seats at the back of the bus.”

A soft nod was all you could manage in response. Standing was more of a struggle than you anticipated, your exhaustion so heavy it felt as if it settled into your very bones and weighed your limbs down, but after a few attempts, you were on your feet.

The moment you gained a semblance of stability, Wednesday snagged your sleeve and tugged you out of the alley, her grip gentler than you’d expect as she guided you back to the bus. You didn’t miss the joyful spark in her eyes at the chaos unfolding around the town.

When you arrived at the bus, the door was wide open and your companion wasted no time hauling you both inside, immediately making a beeline for the back row. She stopped in front of the seats you occupied on the ride into Jericho, dropping your sleeve as she stepped aside for you to sit.

You gave her a tired smile, grateful that she was giving you the window this time, and collapsed onto the seat. Wednesday slipped in right after you, sitting noticeably closer this time. Close enough that her arm lightly rested against yours.

Heat flared in your cheeks, but you didn’t dare point it out. You just rested your head against the window and closed your eyes.

The slow arrival of other students and staff barely registered, your focus altering between the events of the hour prior, and the comfortingly cold weight of Wednesday’s arm pressing against yours.

The bus ride back to school passed by in a blur and you were being pulled off the bus by Wednesday before you even realized it had stopped.

In a similar fashion, Wednesday dragged you by the sleeve to your dorm, all but shoving you toward your closet once inside.

“Get changed and get some rest. I will return in a few hours after I deal with something,” she said, eyeing you as she edged back toward the door.

“Where are you going?” you asked, concerned that she would try to continue investigating by herself. Wednesday turned to you, and for a moment you were convinced she would tell you that “what she did was none of your concern” or just leave altogether without a word, but at the last second her demeanor shifted.

“It’s nothing to do with the monster. I won’t be putting myself in danger in any way, you have my word,” she assured you, tone firm. There was no room for argument, and if you were being honest, you were compelled to believe her anyway.

You nodded slowly. “Ok.”

She held your gaze for another second then turned and strode out the door. You stayed standing in your spot until her footsteps faded completely.

Fatigue weighed on you once more and that was enough motivation for you to quickly shower and change into dry clothes. You abandoned your discarded uniform in the bathroom to dry, halfheartedly trudging to your bed and flopping down on it.

Scattered thoughts littered your brain, taking you from one turbulent topic to the next. Crackstone, Wednesday’s vision, the monster, Mary—until Wednesday herself came up and instantly everything else was irrelevant.

You thought about the way she treated you today, how she helped you, how she touched you. It made you much happier than it ought to.

As your eyes slipped shut, you wondered about where she could be. You just hoped she was safe.

Finally, your exhaustion overtook you, thoughts of Wednesday sending you into a deep slumber.

-

Hours later, you were woken by a sharp knock on your door.

The harsh sound nearly sent you tumbling out of bed. You were half-tempted to not answer it, but Wednesday said she’d be back later and the last thing you wanted to do was keep her waiting.

So you dragged yourself out of bed and opened the door, smiling when you were met with Wednesday’s usual deadpan stare. She walked past you into your dorm, not bothering to wait for an invitation she knew you’d give her, and while you shut the door, you took the chance to look at her.

She appeared unharmed. Her uniform, now dry, was perfectly situated as always and not a single hair on her head was displaced. She looked as if she’d just returned from a peaceful walk through the woods, but something told you that was far from the truth.

Wednesday walked over to set her bag down on your desk, carefully slipping something out of it before turning to face you. She beckoned you over and you complied.

“I was told to give this to you.” She extended an envelope in your direction.

A brow raised as you took the envelope, inspecting it closely. You never got mail, so you were immediately suspicious, but it looked harmless enough. A simple, white envelope, entirely blank besides the small writing of your name on the back.

Curious, you ripped it open and to your surprise, it was a letter from Mary. The scrawl was messier than usual, almost panicked, but the handwriting was distinctly hers. You read through it slowly, your initial apprehension turning to disbelief.

The letter detailed all of her transgressions against you and how genuinely, unerringly apologetic she was for hurting you.

Under the body of text, her name was written in a red ink so dark, you’d think that it was blood… And there was a smudge of crimson at the bottom of the page. As if the ink had been crudely spilled onto the paper.

You knew you shouldn’t be finding enjoyment in this. Frankly, you should be terrified but the feeling that bloomed in your chest was the furthest thing from fear.

“Is it to your liking?” she asked, jaw set in determination. The look in her eyes told you that if you said no, she would go back to Mary and make her write another one. If she was still alive that is.

“Yes, it is,” you said, dumbfounded, “but you really didn’t need to do anything, Wednesday.”

“She deserved it,” she retorted, a touch of hostility in her tone. A beat. Then, “You said there were others. If you give me their names, I will hunt them down and seek retribution on your behalf.”

The declaration shouldn’t have made your cheeks warm, nor should the bloodthirsty look in her eyes, but it did. It was equal parts horrifying and charming—the perfect cocktail of emotions to get your heart racing.

Maybe Wednesday was starting to rub off on you more than you thought.

“That…won’t be necessary,” you said slowly. You knew you should just leave it; you really did. But you couldn’t help yourself. “How exactly did you find out where she was staying?”

The ghost of a smirk appeared on her lips, all traces of hostility replaced with blatant self-assuredness. “I have my ways.”

Her blatant cockiness pulled a laugh out of you, the first of the day in fact. You wondered if you were imagining the relief in Wednesday’s eyes at the sound. Turning back to the paper, you sobered a bit.

“Wednesday, seriously, thank you. This is more than most people have ever done for me,” you admitted. The ethics of whether you should be thanking her be damned, this was a touching gesture in your mind. Shameful or not, you were going to properly thank her.

The sudden emotional vulnerability seemed to catch her off guard, eyes widening slightly. But she caught herself quickly. Her eyes darkened a bit and her smirk softened, turning into something suspiciously akin to an actual smile. “Believe me, it was my pleasure.”

Another wave of warmth rushed through you, and you prayed that it wasn’t visible on your cheeks. It struck you that this was the first time you’d ever seen a (possibly) genuine smile on her face. 

With that, the room lapsed into silence and like always, you let it sit between you.

She, too, let the quiet linger, holding your gaze with a confidence only she possessed. For just a moment, her eyes flicked downward, the movement so fast it was nearly imperceptible.

Nearly.

It was over just as quickly as it began and by the time you properly registered it, Wednesday was straightening up, dark eyes fixed on yours once more.

“Our investigation will resume tomorrow assuming there are no more unplanned interruptions. Meet me in my dorm after classes tomorrow.”

“Of course,” you responded automatically, still trying to figure out if what you saw was real or another possible figment of your imagination.

She headed for the door, and you panicked. You wanted to say something, anything to get her to stay for just one more moment. But nothing came to mind (nothing you had the courage to say, anyways).

Suddenly, she paused, turned to face you once more.

“Good night.”

You smiled. “Good night, Wednesday.”

A final nod and she was out the door, closing it behind her with a soft click.

Again, you stayed there until the echo of her footsteps was no more. You looked down at the letter in your hand, pursing your lips. Reluctantly, you set it down on your desk. You would unpack all of your feelings regarding it later. Now, you had more pressing things to deal with.

For the second time, you flopped onto your bed, but this time, sleep was the last thing on your mind. In its place was the girl that chilled you with her presence mere minutes prior.

The smile on your face was immovable, as if it were permanently etched into your skin. You replayed the conversation over and over again in your head, highlighting the moments before she left.

You wondered, maybe pointlessly, if she could possibly like you back… Either way, you supposed it didn’t really matter now.

Even if she didn’t feel what you did, today’s ministrations proved that she at least cared for you on some level. That simple fact was enough to send you into a high unlike any other. 

The idea of her actually reciprocating your feelings only propelled you further, your giddiness threatening to swallow you whole as you lay in your bed.

You spent the remainder of your night in a quiet daze, your mind consumed with nothing but familiar obsidian eyes and an addictively deadly smirk.

[orionremastered]

oml, so I saw the post about the shape shifter golden tiger and I absolutely loved it. I was just wondering if you could do one where the reader is a panther!shapshifter instead. Another big cat, maybe just smaller than the tiger but they are way for flexible, agile and stealthy (got me thinking of Bageera from Jungle book) so imagine how everyone reacts when this panther is just roaming around Gotham city. (And maybe Robin could get to pet this one since he didn't get to pet the golden tiger)

Kisses >3<♥️🧡💛💙

Masterlist

Wraith

"You're too young! You're not ready to go out into the real world."

You're an early maturing shifter at the age of fourteen, not the common age of eighteen that most shifters mature at. But your parents wouldn't budge, and it pissed you off.

So you snuck out like every teenager does. Out to the port, watching a cargo ship unload containers into trucks in the low light of nighttime.

You blend in with the shadows, watching the common event with fascination. You've never seen anything like this before, people just going about their daily lives and experiencing the same things as you.

Fascinating.

You're enjoying it, the peaceful moment with the sea breeze bringing the smell of salt to your strong nose. It's short-lived as the sharp bang of fire startles you into action. Port workers collapse on themselves as a group masked and dressed in black rush in and converge on a single shipping container.

Shit.

You jump into action despite your parents' warning of staying far out of trouble, taking down one of the men quickly and returning to the shadows in an instant.

"What was that?"

"Golden? The Bat?"

You launch at another unsuspecting thug, clawing at his neck before scampering back to the shadows once he swiftly goes limp. The other two remaining look around wildly, guns waving around. Just when you think they've found you and are about to shoot, a high-pitched whistling sound whips past you and lands in the form of a batarang, lodging into one of their hands.

He screams and drops the gun, allowing you to pounce and take the last one out.

The only sounds that fill your ears are the quiet musings of the dark sea, slowly churning around the port deck as it moves towards the sands.

"Another shifter?"

You raise your head, blinking slowly as you watch Spoiler appear from the shadows.

"A panther this time... huh." She creeps closer and smiles when you allow her to scratch behind your ear. Then she says something into her comms. "How about we see what they were trying to steal."

The two of you slowly approach the shipping container, dented with bullets that have melted off the blue (and already scratched) paint. Spoiler hauls the door open and you can see what's inside before she even pulls the flashlight from her utility belt.

Unmarked, unnamed crates.

You walk over to one of them and take a careful sniff, nose scrunching at the chemical smell. You let out an annoyed growl and Spoiler laughs. "Doesn't smell good?"

She pries the crate open and you stand your front paws on the rim.

Rows and rows of vials with pale blue liquid. You look at Spoiler and she shrugs.

"I'll have to get these tested," she says, taking one from the crate and handling it gently. "The GCPD can take the rest."

She gives you a gentle pat on the head. "See you around, uh, Ghost? No, Wraith. Wraith's better."

You nod your head, flick your tail, exit the shipping container and melt back into the shadows of the port. Your parents will kill you if you're tired in the morning.

Spoiler sighs as she watches you leave. "It's like there's a new one every day."

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hello hello! I just read your writings about Pokémon and it inspired me to make a request if that's okay!

May I request some fic with Raihan and Reader who has a team of, like, really intimidating Pokémon? But they are actually are big softies? Just a happy lil' Scolipede with a little bow munching some berries! Or even Slither Wing that crawls towards the toys like a kitten, pheh-

That's okay if you decline! Take your time, I can wait ^^

Have a good day/night!

-✒️ Anon

"C'mon, Rai! I have some friends from Paldea who are dying to meet you!"

"Oh are they, huh?" Raihan raised an eyebrow, exchanging a brief glance with his Duraludon. But they both did their best to keep up with you as you rushed to your campsite, excited.

For the first time since he's met you, he was finally going to see your main Pokémon team. You briefly mentioned having some from Paldea, but a few were from this region, as well as Kalos. Based on your history of winning lots of tournaments, Raihan could only assume you had a lot of very strong Pokémon with diverse typing to help you adapt to any situation.

You haven't battled anybody in Galar yet, so he wasn't sure what to expect. He was looking forward to today.

Upon arriving to the camp, however, he's....quite surprised.

All of your Pokémon were ones notorious for being highly aggressive and intimidating, but he quickly realized how tranquil and pacifist each of them seemed. They weren't sparring nor scowling at one another.

If anything, they acted sort of...cute?

He spotted a large Scolipede, the archnemesis of all Centiskortches...happily snacking on berries with a tiny Sizzlipede resting on their back, sharing the bowl. And amusingly enough, Raihan could see you adorned the vicious poison/bug's horn with a cute little bow, which it didn't seem to mind at all.

Then he saw a Volcarona...except it looked a lot fluffier and was crawling on all fours, its wings folded upwards like some sail. Not to mention it looked gigantic, as though it belonged to the same ancient time period as Tyrantrum and all the other fossil Pokémon.

"Is that some kind of Paldean variant?" The dragon tamer pointed to the Volcarona lookalike.

"Oh! Well..yes and no. That's my darling Slither Wing, a supposed ancestor of Volcaronas. They look scary, but they're sweet on the inside. Just watch this." Smiling, you took out the feather toy and shook it around, the tiny jingling bells making Slither Wing turn their attention to you.

With a happy chitter, they scampered over to you, before standing up on their hindlegs and towering over both you and Raihan. He jumped back with a small shriek, throwing his hands up in front of him.

"Woah what the-?!! Back up, buddy!!"

Sensing its trainer's distress, Duraludon hissed at the potential challenger.

Yet Slither Wing seemed blissfully unaware of the threat they posed, their focus being fully on the feather dangling in front of them. They gently batted it with their front paws, delighted at the jingling noise the bells made.

"Sorry." You laughed a little, feeding them a berry before setting the toy down. "They get excited easily." Then you rested a hand on their fluffy chest, to which they flopped to the ground, allowing you to rub their belly. "Awwh, who's a good Slither Wing? It's you~!"

Raihan blinked several times, awkwardly putting his hands back down as he stared at you, watching you baby this fierce-looking Volcarona. He would've thought you were talking to a Yamper or Growlithe.

Looking elsewhere, he saw a Pokémon who appeared similar to a Bisharp, except it was bulkier, resembled a samurai, and was....somehow sitting on its own hair???

Upon closer examination he could see it had some flowers in said hair, put there by the cutesy wild fairy and grass Pokémon that have gathered around it. It seemed to be telling them a story, smiling all the while...which was very unlike the serious Bisharp lineage.

You noticed where Raihan was looking and smiled, whistling for Kingambit. It glanced over and headed to you, being able to move without standing up at all.

"King?"

"Your majesty." You stood and bowed to it in respect, before turning to your friend. "Rai, this is Bisharp's final evolution, Kingambit He had to best three other Bisharps wearing leader's crests in order to evolve, so he's pretty strong."

"It took beating three?" He raised an eyebrow. "That's pretty specific. How didja figure that one out?"

"....well how did you figure out how to evolve a Galarian Yamask into Runerigus?"

"...touché." He clicked his tongue, before glancing at Kingambit again, who seemed to be admiring the flowers in its hair. Then he slowly took out his rotomphone to snap a picture of it--

"Gamb.."

Tensing, Raihan saw the dark/steel type glaring daggers into his soul, and he gulped, nervously put his phone back into his pocket. "M-My bad..uh...I just...."

However, Kingambit's menacing look suddenly vanished, replaced with a cheeky smile as it chuckled. And only then did the dragon tamer realize the fairy and grass Pokémon were gathered nearby, giggling as well.

"Awh, did King scare the "almighty Dragon Tamer"?" You teased, seeing how flustered he was getting.

"What? Of course not! What are you talking about?" He quickly shook his head, offering you a sharp-toothed grin of reassurance. "I don't fear anything!"

"..Tyran!"

Raihan turned his head to see a Tyranitar stomping on over to you, wearing a mega bracelet similar to yours. He recalled you mentioning that you've mastered Mega Evolution.

But of all the Pokémon to choose from, it just had to be his ace's number one natural rival??? He'd hate to see how that would go down on a battlefield..

'Mega Tyranitar against G-Maxed Duraludon...sounds like a good movie title..' He mused, before snapping out of his thoughts and sighing, watching you coo over the dark/rock type--just like you did Slither Wing.

His concerned looks caught your attention, as you just huffed in growing annoyance, cradling Tyranitar's head in your arms. "Rai, relax. My friends here don't have a single mean bone in their bodies."

"I find that hard to believe. Plus my Duraludon hates Tyranitars...isn't that right......?"

However, he trailed off upon realizing that his trusty Duraludon was no longer by his side, instead hobbling over to greet your Tyranitar. "Du....Duraludon?" He blinked stupidly.

"Tar!!"

"Ludon!!!"

Raihan could only gawk as the two gently butted heads, amazed that they weren't at each other's throats. Instead, Tyranitar encouraged it to come play with the bouncy ball near the curry pot, and the steel/dragon followed them without hesitation.

Soon enough, Scolipede, Slither Wing, and Kingambit went to join the fun, leaving the dragon tamer utterly speechless as he realized his initial assumptions about your team were wrong. "Wow...."

"Yeah." Laughing softly, you patted his back as he stood there, shoulders still slumped. "So do you believe me now?"

"...I do. I'll never doubt you again."

[danger-bird]

"Obedience suits you, sparrow."

Ok,ok... listen....hear me out....... This story has been buzzing, festering in my hippocampus since yesteday, and now that I had time I slammed it out on a keyboard. It IS my OC-incert, so it's not technically an Ais x gn!reader, but I did avoid names in case a few crazy eyes, possession and a light sprinkle of amnesia is no biggie... Have fun, okie byee❤️ *scampers off , hides in their cave*

“Obedience suits you, Sparrow.”

Their small talk turned into a teasing banter quickly enough. They’ve been having a sneaking suspicion his worrying about them “almost dying again, running into a Soulless, or another roughneck”, is just him finding excuses to spend more time together. Not that they mind - even with his escorts, the walks always end too quickly.

They bark out a laugh as they turn a corner, slipping into the twisting backstreets behind the Wick. The night is cold, moonless - there are very few people outside, walking around the city.

“Since when? Either way, blind obedience is no fun - I thought you liked a challenge.”

It would be pitch black if not for the light seeping through the windows of the houses lining the narrow alleys. It’s dark – but not dark enough to miss the smirk stretching over his face.

“I do. Making it a challenge, then?”

“Do you want me to make it a challenge?” - they tease and peer up at his face, waiting for a reaction. His expression shifts somehow, but they can’t quite place in what way. He looks at them quietly, not saying anything, so they shift their gaze ahead and shake their head with an exhale, a light smile on their lips.

“Sparrows have been given wings to fly, Ais. I’ll never give you obedience like this.”

He gives a weak smile that drops immediately. His expression is unreadable. They hurry a few steps forward, trying to avoid his unnerving gaze.

He slows down, feeling his thoughts rippling at the edges, unfurling like a loose-knit cloth. His consciousness gradually sinks backwards as he quickly loses sensation in his skin, his hands, his face. The realization hits a moment too late.

Numbly, he can feel another presence emerging forward - a looming darkness casting an impenetrable shadow over his mind, wrapping its sticky tendrils around hazy thoughts, a horrible dread reaching forward…

In an instant, a sharp pain splits through his head, his awareness violently yanked forward like being pulled out of water. A low chime reverberates through his mind, overwhelming his senses… and keeping only his thoughts in focus, drowning out any other to barely a whisper.

“You can’t just take someone’s free will. You certainly can’t have mine. You can earn loyalty, my friendship… but that’s not the way to do it.”

They turn back to look at him, eyes radiating an unnatural shimmer: the color of blazing hot sunlight beaming off of molten gold. In the dim alleyway, their glow is bright enough to cast a light over their face, making their solemn expression that much more unsettling. Any other voices are now nothing more than a muffled babble. Their quiet, serene voice is stretching and twisting, almost splitting in two as it barely coalesces into an audible sound. Despite that, their words ring loud and crystal-clear in his head.

“A good heart means nothing without conviction… and a heart without conviction cannot be helped by anybody. Until your heart finds the conviction to seek out its own goodness, don’t come looking for mine.”

They turn around and take a few steps forward, stopping right before turning a corner and speaking quietly, still facing the street ahead.

“…Loyalty is not the same as obedience. It’ll do you good to learn the difference.”

They disappear behind the corner of a building without so much as looking back. The alley suddenly feels cold again, a drift whistling through the narrow streets between buildings and pouring onto the main street ahead. The dim light from a lone lamppost on the corner shivers before flickering out completely.

.

.

.

When they enter the Wet Wick, their head is swimming, unable to remember what happened after the alarming sense of unease washed over them back there. Mind still hazy, they drag themselves to the bar when Leander calls them over, Kuras keeping an eye on them as they approach.

[ang3l0fde4th4ndd0gs]

SunKiller Microfic:

Words:248

“Jaaaamieeee.” Barty's voice called down the hallway.

“Ugh, you know I hate it when you call me like that.”James replied, jokingly as he walked in front of Barty.

“Well, how else would I get your attention, hm?”

James paused, a few steps past the other boy. “Kiss me, maybe? Or call me anything else? Even my last name would be fine. Just don't say it like that.”

James continued walking. Barty laughed and let out a high pitched whistle. James rolled his eyes and turned around.

“You’ll make me late.”James said.

“Then ignore me, Potter.”

“Can’t seem to.”

“Mhmm.”

Barty caught up with James and fell into step beside him before grabbing him by the tie and pulling the taller boy into a nearby broom closet. James blushed a dark crimson red as he looked up at Barty.

“What was that for?”he asked.

Instead of an answer, Barty slammed his lips against James'.

“Do I have your attention now, Jamie?”Barty mused.

“Y-yeah. What was that for?”

“You told me to kiss you. So I did.”

“I've never been kissed before.”

“Mhmm.”

“I haven't.”

“Kiss me again then. Make it even.”

James kissed Barty again, more gently than he's been kissed the first time. Barty grinned against his mate’s lips.

“Better?”James asked. James nodded in reply. Barty playfully grabbed James' rear end and leaned down to whisper in the boy's ear. “Go to class. We’ll continue this later.”

“Mhm…”

James scampered off to class.

[she-wolf09231982]

Chapter 9-It Ain't Over

Summary: Easy is tasked to dismantle German outposts across the river and were to return with prisoners for interrogation. The mission is successful but not without another loss. When the Colonel tried to send the men back in, Winters unconventionally goes against the grain, allowing the men a night of rest instead of risking more unnecessary deaths.

A/N: Mature audience, Joe LiebgottxFem!Medic, Post Bastogne, She/Her Pronouns, Y/F/N, Y/L/N, Cursing/Swearing, Derogatory Slurs, Womanizing Comments, Aggression, Angst, Confrontation, Military Terminology, 1940’s slang, Inappropriate Nicknames, Band of Brothers References, A League of Their Own Movie References, Mentions of Weaponry, Yiddish/German language with English translation, Smoking, Crying, Banter, Pining, FOREVER FLUFF

German is identified with (g)

Yiddish is identified with (y)

*These stories may not fall entirely in accordance with the TV series timeline. I do not know the real soldiers the actors portray in this series, so please understand I show no disrespect. Some or most of historical events and character interactions in my fanfics are fabricated purely for the sake of the enjoyment of fiction*

~~~~~~~

February 1945/Night of POW Mission

American side of the river

Liebgott sits behind his M1919 Browning machine gun with his assistant gunner on a bombed-out landing at battalion headquarters right off the water, watching the rest of the platoon load into the boats on the riverbank. You sneak past the AG and sit next to Joe.

"Gams?? What the fuck are ya doin'?" he chided at you.

You roll your eyes, "Just checking on you two and seeing where the guys are." you respond quietly.

"Yeah, well, they ain't even crossed yet so get back downstairs, will ya? I don't want you out here if shit starts poppin' off." he scolded.

You sigh, "Fine, Joe, I just wanted to see you before anything happened, that's all."

You turned to leave but then hesitated. You looked over your shoulder at him with his back towards you. You return to him swiftly, grab his chin and plant a hasty peck on his cheek.

"Ich liebe dich, Joe Liebgott (g)(I love you, Joe Liebgott)." you say in a quick hush before you scamper off inside.

Joe grunted at you not knowing whether to be irritated or entertained,

"Du verdammte Füchsin (g)(You goddamn vixen)." he called after you before you could reach the stairs.

Basement of Battalion HQ

You and Doc sit together in the cellar of HQ, waiting and listening intensely for any gunfire exchange outside. Minutes feel like hours sitting there, as you sip on a tin cup of coffee.

Your leg is bouncing from anxiety, waiting for something to happen. Eugene reached across to you and grabbed your knee to stop your leg from jumping. You look up at him startled.

"You're too jittery. Lay off the coffee, Y/F/N." he said in his low soothing Cajun accent with a gentle smile.

You nod then smile back, placing your cup on the table next to you.

~~~~~~~

German side of the river

The patrol crosses the river in the inflatable boats. When they reach land, they strategically approach the building where German soldiers are posted. As Easy makes entry, Jackson rushes into the building too soon after throwing a grenade and is severely wounded.

The rest of the guys then rush the building and captured three Germans. As they retreat with their prisoners, the remaining German forces open fire. One of the prisoners is hit and is left behind on the riverbank.

American side of the river

Joe sees his platoon scattering towards the boats as smoke and gunfire erupt from the German side. He shifts his line of fire, anxiously waiting to pull the trigger.

"Jesus Christ, come on. Blow the goddamn whistle!" he yelled.

The sound of the whistle finally reaches Joe's ears. He lays heavy suppressive fire at the windows where he sees flashes from German MG-42s. He peppers the buildings back and forth, in hopes he's nailing each one dead center of their foreheads.

Basement of HQ

You and Doc hear an eruption of gunfire and shells dropping through the garden windows of the basement. You stand next to the little window listening hard for the yells and screams from your boys. Just then, you suddenly hear the faint call from the riverbank on the American side...

"WHERE'S THE MEDIC!?!?"

Alarmed, you look back at Eugene with wide, panicked eyes.

"No, Y/L/N." Doc said sternly.

He knew damn well what you were thinking, and he wasn't going to allow it. Not again.

You began to protest, "But they-"

"Y/F/N, NO!" he barked, "I'm not lettin' you run to danger again. Remember what happened in Ardennes?" He reminded you angrily.

You look down shamefully at your boots. Suddenly the basement door abruptly swung open as the platoon started scrambling in.

"Wounded! We got wounded, come on!" Ramirez bellowed.

You swept papers and utensils off the nearest table to clear it for Jackson who was being carried in.

"Set him right here!" you call out.

Johnny Martin entered, "Get the Krauts back there, shake them down! Move! Move! McClung! Get on over to CP, let them know what we got!" he ordered.

Jackson lying flat on the table, his face bloody and raw from the neck up, began gagging on his own blood.

"Jesus, what the hell happened to him over there?!" you ask overwhelmed by the soldier’s appearance.

"Grenade went off right in front of him." Ramirez reported.

"Shit, his lungs are probably hemorrhaging. He can't breathe right." you confirm aloud.

Doc gently pushed you aside and lowered his ear to Jackson's mouth.

"Light. I need some light. Give me some light." Doc requested urgently.

Grant took his lighter and flipped it on. Doc held Jackson's mouth open by the chin, observing and listening for a few seconds as the poor soldier gurgled and whimpered.

"All right, look at the flame. Look at the flame. Ok, that's good." Doc instructed Jackson.

The room became eerily quiet as they all watched Doc work.

"All right, let's get him outta here." Doc directed.

"I don't wanna die!" Jackson cried out.

He repeated these words tearfully over and over again as the platoon started to move him towards the door on a litter. Jackson started to grab at Doc, kicking off the surface as his choking worsened. The men set him down.

"He's gonna die!" one of the guys shrilled in horror.

"Hey, shut the hell up! You're upsetting him more!" You hiss over the sea of bellowing soldiers, while Jackson started to flail and kick in terror.

"Please help me, I don't wanna die!" He wallowed.

Doc tried to hold him steady on the stretcher, "Jackson, you're not gonna die! I need you to hang on!"

Jackson continued to bawl and throw an agonizing fit out of fear until the life drifted from his tearing eyes and his body fell limp. Doc sat up, dropping his helmet to his side with a huff of defeat leaving his mouth. He sat there, lost in his thoughts then looked up at you with frustration painted all over his face.

You look around the room at rest of the guys until you see Martin. You shake your head, confirming he didn't make it. You take Babe's wool blanket he wrapped himself with and covered Jackson.

~~~~~~~

The following morning, the platoon hung out in the barracks, resting up after a long night. Webster entered the room with LT Jones.

"Jackson is dead." Webster announced.

"Yeah, we heard." Joe replied from his bunk sitting above you.

"Yeah, well, they want another patrol tonight." Perconte added.

Joe shifted onto the mattress and laid against the pillow. You stood up angrily and walked out the room, down the stairs, and out the door to head to the basement back at HQ to be alone.

With most of Easy at HQ later that day, Winters, Nixon and Speirs address the same patrol from the night before to discuss the next mission for that evening. You're in attendance once again, across the room where you can see Joe as you stood next to Eugene.

Winters opened the brief by stating how proud he was of the good work the platoon did last night then added that Col Sink was proud as well.

"-In fact, he's so proud he wants you to do another patrol across the river tonight."

The men remain resentfully silent. Joe lights a cigarette then shoots you an unamused glance as Winters continued.

"Any moment now, the outpost we hit last night will go up in flames. Means we have to venture farther into town this time. Captain Speirs, you have the map, please."

Speirs passes the map to Grant to display across the table.

"We have enemy movement here and here," Winters began as he pointed on the paper, "Which means this is our new house target here. We recovered all the boats. So, we'll be setting off from the same place we did last night."

"We're not changing the plan any, sir?" Martin spoke up.

"No. The plan is the same. It will be 0200 hours instead of 0100. Is that clear?" Winters asked.

The men shifted in discomfort, "Yes sir." they acknowledged collectively.

"Good, because I want you all to get a full night's sleep tonight. Which means in the morning, you will report to me that you made it across that river into German lines but were unable to secure any live prisoners-" he instructed as he looked around the room to see if the platoon was tracking what he was saying.

Everyone looked at him in disbelief. The man was really ordering you to disobey Col Sink’s orders.

"Understand?" he pushed cautiously as he scanned the room making eye contact with each of his men.

"Yes, sir." The men replied in unison. (Some of their responses sounding like a question, unsure this was actually happening).

"Good. Look sharp for tomorrow. We're moving off the line." Winters finalized as he left the room.

The guys all breathed their first sigh of relief since Holland. A few exchanged handshakes. Joe stood up from the table to rush over to you.

"Did you just fucking hear that, Gams!?" His smile stretching from ear to ear revealing your favorite dimple on his left cheek.

You beam at him, "I did. He's a good man."

You wrap your arms around the back of Joe's neck, pulling him into a tight hug. He pressed you against him, burying his face into your neck. A couple of happy tears stream down your face.

"Can we just hold each other for the rest of our lives?" you utter softly in Joe's ear.

Joe chuckled, "That's my plan."

~~~~~~~

As the sun set that evening, Cobb distributed bottles of liquor he found in the cellar at HQ. Each man happily accepted the offer, taking hearty swigs from the bottles.

Luz hacked, pounding on his chest to soften the sting of what he just swallowed.

"Shit! *cough* What the hell is this Cobb?? Jesus Christ!" Luz choked.

"What's wrong, George? A little too strong for ya?" Cobb teased.

"This stuff will knock ya on your ass." Malarkey confirmed as he took another drink.

You walk into the room, and the entire platoon cheered. You stop in your tracks, almost alarmed by their response to you entering the room.

"What are you miscreants doing now?" you ask looking around the room at them.

"Nothin' we're just happy to see our songbird!" Babe yelled across the room.

"Hey, Y/F/N, sing us a little somethin' yeah??" Luz pleaded.

"No, George, I'm not-" you contested before all the men groaned and boo-ed expressing their disappointment.

"-I'm tired, guys! It's been a rough few days for all of us." you defended.

"Hey, Joe, come on. Get her to sing!" Babe resorted.

Liebgott hopped off the top bunk and approached you with his bottle. You deliver a look of skepticism to him as he closed in on you. He raised his eyebrow as he smiled mischievously at you.

"No, Joe." Is all you say.

"Gams, the boys just want you to sing a little lullaby so they can get a good night's sleep like the captain said." Joe justified.

"Winters never said anything about me singing you to sleep." you pointed out.

"True," Joe started, "but Webster didn't get to hear ya yet, and l’ve been tellin’ him how sweet my girl’s voice is. I wanna show you off."

You shake your head at him, "You're unbelievable."

"I know." Joe replied confidently.

You look around the room at all the expectant drunk faces of your boys.

"One song so you can sleep. Just one." you compromise.

"Don't get on a chair this time!" Luz called out.

You glare at him, then smile.

"Get comfortable you idiots." you say as you dim the lamps to set the mood.

"What are you gonna sing, Gams?" Joe whispered in your ear over your shoulder as he snaked his arms around your waist from behind.

"A piece from Laurel and Hardy's The Bohemian Girl. Thelma Todd was always one of my favorites.”

Joe hummed as he pecked your cheek. You smell the whiskey on his breath.

“Hm, ir hot aoykh a bisl shlogn di flash, tsi nit? (y)(Hm, you’ve been hitting the bottle a little, too, haven’t ya)?” You ask Joe, smiling at him skeptically.

Joe only grinned, his face glowing and his eyes droopy, sauced from drink, exhausted by the mission, and completely entranced by you.

“Ok, settle down, boys." you project through the room.

"Hey, Liebgott ain't in bed." Perconte protested.

You guide Joe to your bed and have him sit. You stand in the middle of the room so everyone can hear. Every pair of eyes and ears focus on you, waiting patiently for you to begin.

🎶 “I dreamt that I dwelt in marble halls,

With vassals and serfs at my side,

And of all who assembled within those walls,

That I was the hope and the pride.” 🎶

You serenade to your platoon, watching their heads lull and their eyes flutter. You make a round around the room to each soldier, touching a shoulder here or patting another on the head over there, making a personal connection to each one to bring a sense of comfort amongst them as you near the end of the song.

🎶 “And I dreamt that one of that noble host

Came forth my hand to claim.

But I also dreamt, which charmed me most,

That you lov'd me still the same...”🎶

You come back to Joe who is laying across your mattress zeroed in on you with adoration behind his eyes. He beamed up at you from your pillow when you start combing your fingers through his hair as you finish your song just for him.

🎶”That you lov'd me, you lov'd me still the same

That you lov'd me, you lov'd me still-“🎶

You seat yourself on the side of your bed next to him.

🎶”-the same.“🎶

The room is quiet, with the gentle snores and breathes of the guys sound asleep in their bunks. Joe took your free hand and started to pull you towards him as he sat up to meet you half way for a kiss-

“That was incredible, Y/L/N.” You hear Webster compliment from the bunk across from Liebgott’s.

You look over at him and smile, “Thanks, Web. Get some sleep, buddy.”

“Yeah, can’t you see we’re busy over here?” Joe sneered.

Webster chuckled and turned towards the wall to make his back face you.

You look back to Joe, whose face was a hair away from yours.

“That wasn’t very nice.” You giggled.

Joe nudged his nose against yours, “Any second I can get with my girl is precious, I don’t want to waste it.” He purred.

You lean forward, kissing his lips softly. Joe’s faultless ability to lock onto your lips as he tilts his head to deepen his kiss always left you craving for more. You try to pull back but he holds you in place so you don’t go too far.

“We should sleep, too, Joe.”

A devilish smirk appeared across his face, “One of these days, Gams-“ he started without finishing.

You smile coyly and laugh, “I don’t mean to get you riled up. But we’re not getting away with anything in a room full of people.”

Joe shook his head and sighed, “Komm her, du Füchsin (g)(Get over here, you vixen)."

You scoot onto the bed laying across his chest as he enveloped you in his arms. He kissed the top of your head as you nuzzle into him.

"Liebe dich sehr (g)(Love you so much)." Joe uttered to you.

"Liebe dich mehr (g)(Love you more)." you whisper back, squeezing him.

~~~~~~~

@wordsaresimple-imnot @mrs-greenside @skiesofrosie 🪖♠️🦅

[the1975attheirverybest]

COUNTDOWN TO SATVB

Rockstar Dad

A/N: Based on this request.

Warnings: none. But maybe typos.

————

Matty licked his lips, his chest rising and falling rapidly. The nerves. Excitement. The acting. The dancing around, screaming some of the lyrics out, enunciating some slowly for dramatic effect, almost tearing up as he looked out at crowd. It was all almost over. Just two more songs.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he spoke into the microphone while his hand rotated the pegs on his guitar. His tech guy, backstage, watching in agony and scampering to find the peg tuner, before Matty completely ruins his hard work.

“We’ve had a long year-“ he paused “who here has seen us before? On our last tour…" the crowd cheered energetically, drawing a smile from him. “Alright! So, we’ve had a long year since our 5th album came out — our 5th album, Being Funny In a Foreign Language, came out in….October of last year, it’s now the end of September; so almost a year— it’s been quite a year, but you know what? We are….STILL at our very best, I’ll tell you that.” He paused, breathing in deeply. “And, we would like to thank a few people who have helped keep us that way. So…” Matty’s eyes wandered over to his two favorite people in the world, momentarily distracting him. As he thought about how his baby girl’s face lit up, earlier in the night, when she watched him walk onto the stage alongside the guys, how her uncoordinated hands had tried to mirror her mother’s clapping along to the rhythm of “Its Not Living,” her waving at him and mouthing “hello!” At the opening lines of “Paris,” as soon as he’d crooned the line “she said hello,” matty was overcome with emotion. He gave his family a small nod. “Give it up for you guys!” He laughed “thank you for coming to our show. We wouldn’t be here without you….” He refocused his eyes, looking at the crowd, taking in the sight. “ Mr. Brad Troemel, without whom, this psychedelic drama wouldn’t exist….”

As he made his way through the list of people that he owed gratitude, Matty watched his wife beam with proud, nodding along, applauding, and even though her claps disappeared into a sea of indistinguishable, identical sounds from the crowd, Matty felt hers differently. He could see that she was telling him to take the moment in. To be present. To be proud of himself.

“Most importantly, though…” He set down his guitar, his stealthy guitar tech ceasing the opportunity to swoop in and replace it with another instrument, and walked over to the side of the stage. “Give it up for my two favorite ladies.”

Matty jumped offstage, the crowd cheering and whistling loudly, his security staff rushing to keep up with him. He took his daughter into his arms. She was ecstatic to finally be in her daddy’s arms after calling out to him and sticking her arms out, gesturing for him to come to her all night.

Matty paused in front of the stage, considering his dilemma. How was he going to climb back on with his precious baby in his arms? Luckily for him, Mark understood what was going on, and so did Ross. While Mark lifted Matty back up, Ross held the baby in his arms, greeting her gently and cooing to her as she impatiently wiggled around, desperate to be reunited with her dad.

“A long time ago; in a whole other life, I used to do this thing…” Matty reminisced in front of the microphone, ‘An Encounter’ playing in the background. “Where I would kiss fans. I mean- fans who’s asked for it. I wasn’t, like, walking going up to random women and just kissing their lips for no reason, just to clarify.” He wandered over to Ross, taking his daughter back into his arms. “Cuz the internet does love a ‘Matty Healy is a creep’ story. This’ll

Probably be viral by the end of the night. Headlines like ‘Matty Healy confesses to getting off with several fans onstage.’ Anyway, what was I saying? Right! It was a thing. During robbers. You know? The Robbers Kiss.” Crowds cheering loudly promoted Adam to walk up behind Matty and fix the baby girl’s noise canceling headphones, making sure they lined up perfectly and provided maximum protection.

“Nowadays though?” Matty grinned widely, turning to look into his daughters eyes. “This is the only kiss that I care about.” He placed the gentles, softest kiss to his baby’s cheek.

When the crowd swooned, reacting the only way that one could possibly react to the infamous reformed dirtbag melting, rather publicly, at the mere sight of his baby girl, Matty’s daughter seemed to realize, for the first time, that she was looking at an endless sea of human beings, as far out as her eyes could see. Her moth fell open, hypnotized, she stared at the twinkling lights. In his ear piece, Matty heard George say something about this being the moment that his child discovers what Matty does for a living. Watching his daughter’s face, Matty’s eyes brimmed with tears.

“You see that, baby? Daddy’s a rockstar. All these people….” His voice getting caught in his throat, he chuckled, kissing the very top of her head and walking over to where the security guys were anxiously waiting.

Reluctantly, he handed the love of his life back to them, standing there, with a watchful eye, and waiting to resume his post until he’d made sure that she was back in the safety of her mothers arms.

He wiped the tears out of his eyes with the back of his arm. “That’s was a…” he rushed over to the microphone. “Anyway, if you were on tumblr in 2013, this one’s for you.”

George’s cue to play ‘Robbers.’