#like its fine really but jesus christ i have to do the rest of my life like this. and alone. but its fine really

[toastsnaffler]

man I hope I can sleep well tonight

[evie-sturns]

kiss - Matt Sturniolo

summary: when your best friend matt invites you round for a late night hang out, it ends up in him confessing his feelings to you... leading to you kissing your best friend of 8 years for the first time.

contains: fluff, slight arguing, confession, making out.

---------------------┌── •✧• ──┐-----------------

i've known matt since 8th grade, we met in science class where he spilt acid on my shirt. after that we became lab partners, then friends, then best friends.

9:34pm

"matt!!" i sing, opening the door to his bedroom and walking in. his gaze lifts from his laptop screen to me, his face lights up. he's wearing a black shirt with white detailing and some grey sweatpants, he's sat up against the pile of pillows on his bed.

"i missed you!" matt smiles, patting the spot next to him.

i jump on to his bed next to him and cuddle up to his sides, resting my head on his shoulder.

"how have you been?" matt exclaims, rubbing my shoulder as i instantly start talking,

in our friendship i've always been the talker, matt's a natural listener so it's an easy dynamic for us.

"guess what happened when i was drving here, this bitch flew on to the road on a scooter! i swerved so hard to miss her, and- and she was fully grown on a scooter!?" i scoff,

matt rubs his eyes with a laugh, "jesus christ." matt scoffs.

i look to my side at him, "like if i totalled my car dodging a middle-aged woman on a children's scooter i'd be so pissed." i continue, matt's in tears now, a stupidly wide smile spread across his pink cheeks.

i sigh, "anyways, netflix?" i suggest, reach onto matts lap and yank his laptop further up his torso. "yeah!" matt replies, he scrolls through netflix and picks out some rom-com

"a rom com? you're feeling romantic today," i tease, matt jabs his fingers into my waist, earning a scream from me followed by a loud giggle.

the opening scene to the movie starts, i cuddle closer to matt's side and wrap a leg over his thigh, matt goes tense and i subtly hear his breathing pick up.

"you okay?" i whisper, matt nods.

"matt why don't you talk to me about things, i've known you since we were 12 you can tell me stuff." i sigh,

"im fine- i'm okay." matt insists, his cheeks are flushed now.

"i know but you've been distance recently, and i don't understand what i've done wrong?" i mumble, pausing the movie and pushing the screen down.

"its not you y/n." matt states,

"then what is it!" i argue back,

"oh my fucking god do you not get it?" matt says, i sit up and look down at him, my eyebrows twisted.

"you are so- so gorgeous. everything about you is perfect and i'm sorry, i'm sorry if this ruins things between us but i'm completely obsessed with you, i really really like you and i have for much longer than i'd rather admit. so i'm sorry if i'm being distant but its painful to be around you without the constant need to fucking tell you- how much i need you."

my mouth falls open, i've always thought matt was cute, i've just pushed it away.

matt looks at me, scanning over my face as he breathes deeply, his eyebrows slanted upwards out of nerves.

"you mean it-" before i can finish my sentence matt cuts me off, "yes- i fucking do." he whines, running a hand through his hair as he sits up.

his laptop slides off his lap, i crawl over and sit on his lap while he props himself up on the headboard.

i grab his chin, making him look up at me as i get comfortable straddling him.

"you should've told me baby." i whisper, the pet name makes matt's eyes widen.

"because you've always been cute matt, just my type yeah?"

"dont lie please.." matt shys

i smirk before pressing our lips together, his lips are plush and soft, i've always wondered what they would feel like against mine.

"oh my god." matt breathes against my lips, my heart thumps out of my chest as i place a hand on his shoulder, rocking my hips against the fabric of his sweatpants.

matt glides his tongue over my bottom lip, asking for permission which i quickly grant. his tongue slips inside my mouth, fighting mine for dominance.

his ringed hands lace into my brunette hair, pushing my head further towards his.

his spare hand finds its way to my ass, pushing me against his lap harder, a pathetic whine escapes my mouth, matt chuckles against my lips before pulling away.

"don't get too worked up sweetheart." matt teases, i scoff

"shut up"

i lean back slightly, his face scans over mine "was that okay..?" he asks shyly like he wasn't just pressing me down onto his clothed cock 15 seconds ago.

"that was really.. fucking good." i laugh, laying down on his body and burying my head on his shoulder, i press small kisses on his neck, marking lightly.

"what.. are we?" he asks,

"what do you want to be?" i reply,

"you don't have to say yes- this is random but, do you want to maybe.. will you be my girlfriend." matt asks quietly,

i laugh slightly "you're so stupid matt,"

he goes silent, i give him a proper reply before he starts to panic

"yes, yes matt i will be your girlfriend." i smile,

matt grabs both sides of my face and smashes his lips to mine again, smiling widely against my lips.

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

@luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle @h3arts4harry @sonicmacks @jamiesturniolo @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @sturniolo-simp4life @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @recklessmatt @ev3rgreenxtrees @lovergirl4387 @certifiednatelover @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @ecilphttlunar @pkfferoo @bitchydragonparadise @thematthewlover @sturni0l0 @ratatioulle

[steddieasitgoes]

written for @steddiemas Day 1: Deck the Halls read on ao3 | ao3 collection

Steve’s annoyed.

More than annoyed, really.

He’s supposed to be at the Munson’s, sitting between Wayne and Eddie, watching the Hoosiers play. Well, trying to watch the game, at least. Eddie has a habit of dozing off before the first quarter ends, head thunking against Steve’s shoulder so he can’t move for the rest of the game.

But no.

His mom just had to call and demand he set up their stupid Christmas tree before she and his dad get home tonight because the annual Harrington Holiday House party is this weekend, and she doesn’t have time to do it herself. Honestly, he’s surprised she’s trusting him enough to decorate the thing. He can count on one hand how many times he was allowed to hang an ornament on the statement piece in their living room.

He can’t even celebrate the decorating victory, though, because he’s still trying to assemble the goddamn thing. Nine-foot trees really aren’t meant to be set up by one person. At least, that’s what Steve’s learning as he tries to balance the next segment of the tree over his shoulder as he climbs up the ladder.

Focused on not falling, Steve doesn’t hear the front door open or the stomps of boots coming into the room. It isn’t until Eddie tuts does Steve startles, nearly toppling over.

“Woah, there big boy,” Eddie teases, reaching out to steady the ladder. “Don’t fall.”

“Don’t scare me then,” Steve snaps. It takes a moment, but he manages to get the next piece into the slot before carefully climbing down the ladder.

“Christ, someone’s feisty today,” Eddie says, hands up in surrender. “I guess it’s a good thing you bailed on me and Wayne to uh…” He glances at the half-assembled tree in the middle of the room. “What are you doing exactly?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Building a stupid Christmas tree.”

“I’m sorry, you what?” Eddie asks, shaking his head. “You can’t build trees. You grow trees.”

Steve snorts. “It’s an artificial tree, Eds. My mom called as I was headed out to your place. Said I needed to get the stupid thing up and fluffed before she got home tonight because she needs a full three days to decorate the damn thing for the annual Harrington Holiday House party.”

“This thing is blasphemous!” Eddie says, circling it like a predator stalking its prey. “I thought rich people love Christmas trees. Don’t you like custom order the biggest one to show off your wealth?”

“Uh, no? My mom says real trees make too much of a mess.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Eddie says, abandoning the tree as he stalks towards Steve. “You mean to tell me you’ve never had a real tree before? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“You’re being weird,” Steve says, shaking Eddie’s hands off his shoulder.

“I am not being weird. You’re being weird. You’ve never had a Christmas tree! Do you even know what they smell like? Steve, you haven’t lived until you’ve smelt a freshly cut down Christmas tree!”

“Jesus, I didn’t know you were so passionate about this,” Steve snorts.

“You think this is bad. Wait until I tell Wayne. He’s going to flip out!”

“Wayne has never flipped out in his life.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a first for everything.” Eddie crosses his arms and then immediately uncrosses them, clapping his hands instead. “That’s it. You’re coming with us this year. Don’t make plans for next Friday! I’m stealing your Christmas tree virginity.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Steve groans, wrinkling his nose. “But fine, I’ll go with you. If you help me with this thing.”

“I don’t think that’s a fair trade-off, Stevie.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t really give a shit,” Steve says, bending down for the next segment of the tree. “Now grab an end.”

Steve yelps when he feels a firm hand squeeze his ass. All it takes is one deathly glare over his shoulder for Eddie to stop cackling and get serious.

🎄 🎄 🎄

“I’m going to sue your family,” Eddie whines, collapsing on the couch a few hours later.

“Don’t be a baby,” Steve scolds before dashing off into the living room to grab a couple of beers.

“Excuse me! That thing attacked me! Multiple times! Look at the evidence,” Eddie shouts, yanking up the sleeves of his Hellfire shirt to examine a dozen or so scratch marks up and down his forearms. “And don’t even get me started on my hands! How am I supposed to play guitar, Steven!”

“I told you to wear gloves,” Steve shrugs, returning to the room. He passes Eddie the cold can of beer before sinking into the couch beside him.

“I shouldn’t need gloves because you shouldn’t need to fluff a tree! They already come fluffed because they’re not rotting away in a box all year.”

“You poor thing,” Steve playfully tuts. “Guess I can’t hold your hand now since they’re so beaten up.”

“I never said that,” Eddie squawks as he yanks Steve’s hand into his own.

They sit in silence after that. Nursing their beers as the Christmas tree stands in its makeshift glory in front of them. Steve can tell which side he fluffed and which side Eddie did. The giant gap between the top two layers is obvious, and he knows he’s going to have to climb the ladder and fix it before his mom gets home, but that’s a problem for future Steve. Right now, he wants to sit here with his boyfriend even if his boyfriend is gearing up for another faux Christmas tree rant.

“Don’t tell me your mom is one of those people who only puts those stupid decorative ball things on the tree, too.”

“What do you think?” Steve says, hiding his smile behind the can of beer.

“Jesus H. Christ!”

🎄 🎄 🎄

It takes a bit of convincing and a formal invite from Wayne, but Steve keeps up his end of their deal, joining the Munsons on their quest for the perfect Christmas tree for the trailer.

Eddie has a habit of embellishing when he tells stories, but Merrill’s farm lives up to all the hype. As done, the process of selecting and chopping down the perfect tree. Steve gets stuck being the tie-breaking vote when Wayne and Eddie end up arguing over which tree to bring home. Naturally, Eddie throws a minor fit when Steve sides with Wayne, whining that he likes him better than his own boyfriend, which has Wayne rolling his eyes.

Steve gets to make the first chop but passes the ax off quickly. He doesn’t want to impede on their tradition any more than he has. Besides, axes have never been his thing. He prefers to swing bats instead.

“See, isn’t this much better than building a tree?” Eddie asks, slinging an arm over Steve’s shoulder as they stand off the side while Wayne pays.

“It definitely smells better.” Steve inhales deeply, scents of pine and hints of peppermint flooding his senses. Someone should bottle this stuff up and sell it as a cologne, he thinks. He’d definitely wear it.

“It’s easier, too.”

Steve scoffs. “Speak for yourself! You’re not the one who helped Wayne drag it all the way up here.”

Eddie laughs, eyes sparking mischievously. “Wait until you have to help him load it into the truck. That’s always the worst part.”

Steve eyes his boyfriend through squinted eyes. He ducks out of Eddie’s grasp and settles his hands on his hips. “You set me up! You just brought me here so you wouldn’t have to do manual work!”

“You wound me, Harrington,” Eddie gasps, clutching a hand over his heart as he staggers backward. “How can you think so lowly of me.”

“Because I know you, Munson,” Steve teases.

“Alright, alright, fine,” Eddie says, slinking over to Steve. “Maybe I had ulterior motives, but it's only fair after what I suffered helping you with that abomination you call a tree. At least now you’ve experienced a true Christmas tree experience.”

Steve can’t help but laugh, shaking his head as Eddie beams proudly at him.

“Ready to go, boys?” Wayne asks, rejoining them. They both nod, watching as Wayne makes his way over to the heavier side of the tree.

“You don’t have to carry it, Wayne,” Steve says, mischievous flooding his own veins. “Eddie and I will carry it to the car.”

“You bastard!”

“Hey,” Wayne scolds, swatting Eddie’s shoulder. “No swearin’ ‘round kids. I ain’t raise you like that.”

Steve bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing as he watches Eddie sigh dramatically before carefully shoving Wayne away from the tree. He waits for Eddie to follow his lead, squatting down before he counts them off. On three, they hoist the tree over their shoulders and start heading back out to the car.

🎄 🎄 🎄

“So, what do you think?” Eddie asks later, passing Steve a mug full of Wayne’s signature hot chocolate. “Is it better than your tree?”

Steve knows the answer immediately, but he takes a moment. Wants to make Eddie squirm as he admires the tree in front of him. It’s not perfect. It’s a little crooked, and there are hundreds of pine needles littering the floor. The lights are bright, though, and the branches are full of homemade and sentimental ornaments that span decades. A homemade star sits on top in lieu of the traditional angel. A star, Eddie tells him, he and his mom made by themselves the year before she got sick.

It’s perfectly imperfect.

His own traditional, straight out of the pages of a Home and Garden magazine doesn’t stand a chance against this one.

“Yeah, Eds. It’s better than my tree.”

“Victory!” Eddie shouts, nearly spilling his hot chocolate all over himself.

🎄 🎄 🎄

A month later, Steve’s belly is full of the Munson Christmas feast, but instead of lazily lounging on the couch enjoying his food baby, he’s carefully taking ornaments off of the dead Christmas tree that nearly caught fire twice since he’s been here.

“I take it back,” Steve says, carefully taking an ornament off of the dead tree. “Artificial trees are better.”

“They are not!” Eddie whines, wrapping the ornaments Steve hands him in tissue paper.

“I don’t know, Eds. I’ve never had to take down a tree on Christmas before!” he grumbles, reaching for another ornament. “This sucks.”

“It’s all your fault. If you chose my tree, it would have lived for another week! I just know it.”

“Sure it would have,” Steve snorts.

“Look on the bright side, at least we have firewood for the New Year's Eve bond fire now. We can’t do that with your stupid tree.”

“Nope, because I get to use my tree again next year, and you have to buy a new one. Think that’s another point for fake trees.”

Eddie screeches, wrapping his arms around Steve’s middle and tugging him off the ladder and onto the couch. Despite their full stomachs and tired eyes, they wrestle and laugh as Wayne shakes his head from the doorway, a light cigarette perched between his lips.

“Cut it out, you too,” he scolds when things get more heated between them. “Need it out before it really goes up in flames.”

[nnaviee]

Hey Navie! (idk if its weird to use your name lol) I was wondering if you'd do a Natasha Romanoff x Fem reader? Maybe about a prank? I love pranks that have angst and then end in fluff so so much. I also love reading different writers' takes on a prank. If you don't like it that's totally fine. Love ya!! :3

seemingly harmless-natasha romanoff x fem!reader

“Любовь моя” = my love

warnings: guns, swearing, i think that’s it?

words: 3k

———————————————————————————

you slowly turned your key in the lock, opening the door to her apartment. you entered cautiously as you took in your surroundings. dark, and quiet. you had just come back from a mission, a long one. you were excited to see your girlfriend, but also felt like a prank was in order.

you slowly crept down the hallway and slowly opened her bedroom door, taking a moment to admire her peaceful, sleeping form. nobody ever really saw such a vulnerable side of her, yet you were one of the few select people who were given the privilege.

you’d seen a lot together, and you’d seen every side of each other. you made your way around the bed, pulling the sharpie you brought out of your pocket as you leaned next to the bed. you carefully lifted her arm, you had barely begun to write your name on her skin before you felt her jolt awake.

the next thing you knew, you were pressed against the wall, natasha standing behind you with a gun to your head. you knew she kept one near the bed, but this was not the outcome you expected from this seemingly harmless joke.

“nat! nat, please. it’s me.” you cried out without thinking, squeezing your eyes shut as they filled with unshed tears. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you.” you felt her grip on your arm loosen slightly as she slowly came back to reality.

she let go of your arm, turning you around to look at your face. “jesus fucking christ! where did you- when did you get home?” she was out of breath, the incident making her chest rise and fall rapidly as she processed what happened in her half-awake moment of adrenaline.

“about an hour or so ago…i think.” you were equally out of breath, your wide eyes flitting down to the weapon she still held in her white-knucked grip. she followed your gaze, looking down and quickly scrambling to put it away.

“god, i’m so sorry. i thought you…” she trailed off, lightly holding your fingers as she looked down between you. “i’m sorry.” she whispered it, barely audible. you reluctantly squeezed her fingers back, leaning your head down slightly to look at her.

“i’m sorry, too. i shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that. are you…you know, okay?” you reached a hand up to tuck a hair behind her ear as she slowly lifted her head to look at you. “i’m not the one who just had a gun to my head.” she choked out the words. “love, are you okay?” she brought a hand up and cupped your cheek, lightly tracing her thumb back and forth.

you inhaled and exhaled slowly, shaking slightly. “yeah. i’m alright. i’m tired, though.” you held her hand as your other hand rested on her shoulder. she looked at you, her eyes showing every ounce of guilt and disbelief she felt.

“let’s go to bed. the gun is safely put away, i promise.” she said slowly as she walked backwards, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling you to sit next to her. you both sat on the edge of the bed, your hands interlocked. you leaned your head on her shoulder. “i’m sorry i scared you, nat.”

she brought a hand up, running it through your hair. “i would never intentionally hurt you. you know that, right?” you wrapped your arms around her waist and pulled her close to you as you buried your head in the crook of her neck.

“i know.” you whispered as both laid down, finding solace in each other’s arms as you settled beneath the covers. you rested your head on her chest and she continued to play with your hair. your breathing began to sync with hers as the two of you lay in comfortable silence. “i love you so much, Любовь моя.” she whispered into the quiet room.

“i love you more.” you responded as you closed your eyes and settled in closer to her, both of you drifting off to sleep.

———————————————————————————

A/N: ty so much for reading and suggesting!!! i hope yall enjoyed this. like i said, i’m pretty out of practice when it comes to writing things other than plays or poems, so this might be lowkey terrible lmao. also i’ll usually be writing in lowercase bc i’m too lazy to turn my autocaps on.

<3, navie.

[myfandomrealitea]

ok I’ll be honest, I was one of the people who approached your safe space post with the mindset “yeah, but…” like, I now whole-heartedly agree that there should absolutely be fandom spaces devoid of real world issues. We all need our spaces to rest and relax. I think I just felt weird about your post because previously ive been in fandom spaces which did operate on the (perfectly fine) rule of ‘no politics’…but ‘politics’ would also include talking about a gay ship or any queer headcannons.

That obviously wasn’t fair to you because you obviously didn’t mean that w/ your post, but I can personally see as to why some people would feel that way if they were in similar fandom spaces. I do still want to reiterate I do agree with your post and I think some of the rebloggers took it…a bit far? Like Jesus Christ some of y’all need to eat a snickers. I also think some of the wording like “bitching about world issues” and “whining about their shitty parents” might’ve thrown me off but that’s not your fault and really a non-issue 🤷🏽‍♀️

you can delete this ask if you want I really won’t mind, I think I can just see as to why there were so many ‘yeah, but…’ rebloggers.

I actually really appreciate asks like this. For a multitude of reasons, but also because it gives really good insight and outer perspective for both me and other people who are aware of or involved in the discussion.

I think what a lot of people don't yet grasp about me is that while I may hold an opposing view to yours (general, not directed), in the vast majority of cases I still very much understand why people would think the way they do and where that thought process comes from and goes.

Its very, very easy to fall into the mindset of thinking that not helping when you have the ability to makes you a bad person or however in/directly causes suffering. Its very easy to be in the mindset of one single individual making a magnitude of difference.

I fully and genuinely understand and comprehend a lot of the points being brought up.

I just don't agree with them and hold a different outlook on those issues.

For example:

Talking about enjoying a queer ship to me is not 'political' in the sense that, personally, if you're a homophobe and upset by generic conversations about queer people, I really could not give a fuck. And if you raise objections to me talking about two dudes kissing, I'm simply going to remove you from my space because clearly it is not beneficial for either of us to share it. And I made it.

Its obviously very very much down to personal discretion to decide where that line is and what that bracket encompasses, but I think the most universal aspect of that safe space post was trying to get people to understand that forcing others to suffer in solidarity isn't activism and that strangers are not obligated to allow you to use them as support and a dumping ground for your needs.

Spreading around videos of people's dead loved ones isn't activism.

Spamming taglines and buzzwords on completely unrelated posts and videos isn't activism.

Relying on complete strangers for emotional and mental support and regulation while dumping vulnerable, graphic, personal information on them is neither safe nor healthy.

People are not obligated to smother or confine their happiness because of your misery. If you're having a bad day you have no right to tell other people they can't be happy in front of you.

A lot of people, mostly white knighters and people of color took the post as "a white privileged pig saying its okay to let racism slide because you want to play your video games" (actual hate mail I received) and that's so laughably and wildly far from the actual basis of the post.

I've had bigots in my servers before. Homophobes or racists who've slipped through the cracks.

You know what happens when they say something homophobic or racist?

They're immediately removed, blocked and reported, and their information is placed in a private document I keep. I issue an apology to the members of the server for their actions, and life goes on.

People are, of course, entitled to take the post as they see fit. They're entitled to their own perspectives and opinions. I'm more than happy to simply focus on the people who have taken support, guidance and solace in the post.

[gigglesandfreckles-hp]

OOH what about "I loved you long before you knew" from the prompt list, but its Lily talking to James? Could be so fun

from this prompt list

James enjoys reading, but libraries have never been his favourite places. 

There's something about their vastness. The way all these authors and heroes, greater, braver, and smarter than him, seem to join forces to pass judgement on the few notable things he’s managed to accomplish in his almost eighteen years.

Few, but not nonexistent. Because the most notable thing he’s ever accomplished is substantiated by the red-headed girl curled up in his father’s favourite couch, her feet tucked under herself and an oversized blanket draped over her.

The door rumbles shut behind him, the sound echoing softly through the cavernous room. Her head immediately pops up from her book, a bright smile stretching across her face, her green eyes sparkling with warmth.

“Hi,” she calls, her voice a melodic contrast to the quiet of the library, as he slowly makes his way toward her, hands deep in his pockets. He can feel the familiar rough texture of the wooden floor beneath his bare feet with each step. “I wondered where you’d gone.”

He gestures over his shoulder. “I was helping Mum clean up.”

Lily’s eyes widen, her book dropping slightly in her lap. “Shit, I thought—Christ, James, I should have—”

He holds up his hands with a placating smile. “You’re fine, Evans. She wouldn’t have even let you in the kitchen anyway.”

Lily chews at her lip, her brow furrowing in a mixture of concern and guilt, but she pulls a smile anyway, beckoning to him with a wave of her hand. “Well get over here. You’re walking too slow.”

He chuckles, the sound deep and warm, and crosses the rest of the distance to join her on the couch. The leather creaks softly under his weight as he settles on the opposite side, leaving some space between them, in case she felt like she needed it after everything this evening. The air between them feels charged, but she picks up the end of the blanket and tosses it over him. She then moves her own legs so that they drape across his lap, her feet finding a comfortable spot against his thigh, and she scoots closer to him.

“Listen, Evans.”

“Can you pass me that mug?” she asks, leaning over him.

He glances at the small side table next to him, noticing the half-full mug. Picking it up, he takes a sniff and frowns. “Coffee? It’s almost midnight.”

Lily grins, her eyes sparkling. “This book is really good,” she tells him, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m trying to stay up to finish it. Christmas be damned.” Her hand jumps to cover her mouth as she glances around the room with mock horror. “Shit. Sorry, Baby Jesus.”

He shakes his head in playful exasperation, a fond smile tugging at his lips. Sometimes, in moments like this, when she’s just Lily, he has to remind himself how to breathe properly. He spent so long wanting her from afar and then up close, but now—he has her, and he knows more than ever that he doesn’t deserve it.

“Lily,” he murmurs, his voice low and uncertain. He takes a breath, his chest rising and falling heavily. “What my mum said earlier…”

“James,” she interjects, shaking her head, her hair brushing against her shoulders. “Don’t even worry about that.”

“But I do worry,” he insists, his brow furrowing. “I…I’m really close with her. I tell her a lot, but she had no right—I mean…”

Lily leans back slightly to look up at him, her green eyes searching his face with an intensity that makes his heart race. “Was it true?”

“She needs to worry about her own business,” he deflects, his hand running through his hair.

“Was it true, Potter? What she said? Have the two of you actually talked about…” Lily’s voice softens, her eyes never leaving his. “Us getting married?”

James considers his options, though in reality, they aren’t so much options as they are inevitabilities. He’s never been able to lie to her, not even when they were kids.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “We’ve talked about it.”

“Oh.” Her response is quiet, her expression thoughtful.

“It’s just…” He runs a frustrated hand through his hair again, messing it up even more. “It’s new. I know that and I—I know I’m being ridiculous and insecure, but I just, Merlin, Lily, I’ve loved you for so long and I’m the first to admit that it makes me barmy, but—”

“It’s…new?” she asks. “What exactly are you referring to?”

“You…” He gestures vaguely. “Loving me.”

She laughs, the sound soft and comforting, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “James,” she says, her tone gentle, like she’s admonishing a petulant toddler.

“What?” he asks miserably, his shoulders slumping.

“James, look at me.” She pokes him on the cheek, making him meet her gaze. “I loved you long before you knew. Ask me.”

“As you what?” he pouts, his lips pressing into a thin line.

She laughs again and it’s the most beautiful sound in the world, he swears. “Ask me when I fell in love with you, git.”

“I’m not—”

“The second prefect meeting.”

He rolls his eyes heavily, and looks away from her. “Come off it, Evans. You didn’t—”

She moves so that his vision swims with her face again. This time, she’s staring sharply at him, her green eyes intense and unwavering. “I think I’m the only one who has the right to be an authority on my own feelings, Potter. You told off Greengrass—”

“Because she was being a bitch.”

“And,” Lily continues, her voice firm, “I know that when you switched rounds with Mills, it had nothing to do with your Quidditch schedule.”

James scoffs, shaking his head. “Doing rounds with Greengrass was far from a fucking delight, but you’re giving me to much credit. Quidditch was on Tuesdays and Thursdays in October and—”

“Because you moved it,” she says, swatting at his shoulder, her touch light but insistent. “I know that because I did bloody research after I realised I was falling in bloody love with you.”

“I don’t believe you,” he persists, his tone stubborn even as his heart races.

“I don’t care if you believe me or not, Potter, but if you think I’m going to be scared off just because your mum mentioned a potential wedding at some point in our potential future, you’ll be sorely disappointed.” She leans in closer, her breath warm on his face, her expression fierce and determined. “I’m made of tougher stuff than that, James, and I do intend to spend the rest of my life with you. Obviously.”

[treeba-rk]

a small collection of shit the tumblr treebark community has tagged about cc!renchanting. Everyone feel free to contribute, many of these are pretty recent (from the infinite pining era), not from old posts!

#omg just call him hes not your ex   #i think about this so much. bro really was just like man that guy was weird. i think i’m in lo— #also this was very heterosexual of martyn. #relationship goals (they are not dating) #I hate them so much I fucking hate them #MARTYN WHEN I CATCH YOU MARTYN #can martyn like get a job #is this real?? #never a boring day following martyn on Tumblr #once again im reblogging the gayest ass mcyt fanart from none other than martyn in the little wood #martyn this is a really gay post to reblog /silly #its the single pathetic bisexual dogboy swag # everyone say thank youse to false #theyre having gay sex in that box. ok! #this is why joel betrayed dogwarts right at the start #fellas is it gay to do Whatever this is #treebark in the eyes of those around them is apparently horrifying #the server has chemicals in the water that turns the fucking ccs gay for Ren diggity Dog #Jesus christ #martyn intheliitlewood what are you doing in my falafal #I almost went full crazy insane treebark fangirl in the tags until I saw martyn inthelittlewood official reblogged it #SOMETIMES YOU GOTTA ENTER YOUR SLUT ERA AND THAT IS FINE TOO #fuckin slay martyn go kiss men Now we just pray he doesn't find the smut artists and find out people assume he's a bottom #he broke into our house and won’t leave :( turns out he’s the one who built the house? i think that’s why we let him stay #‘classic treebark bait’ MY ASS #martyn that shit is straight out of a fanfic #i think martyn can lurk in treebark tag if he wants #martyn once again outing himself as a renboy #shoutout to cherri for the renchanting propaganda god bless #WTF REN YOU CANT DO THIS TO US #they make me homophobic #mans woke up in a cold sweat checked his tumblr askbox wrote That and then fucked off for the rest of the day like nothing happened #the m in martyn stands for manic pixie dream girl #people be normal in the tags challenge: failed #why is martyn writing fanfiction and putting it on my dash at 3 am? #Top 10 Signs You Should Dm Him:#Number 1: you're writing fanfiction in tumblr ask box answers

this is an incredible collection and i am flabbergasted by how you keep track of this. treebarkblr is hilarious

<3 <3 <3

[livfastdieyoung69]

Alright bookie punk x mcintyre reader where punk is recovering from the mauling and drews just trying to maul reader while punks like “hey!>:( nuhuh..”

WHAT WE GOT NOW

(cm punk x mcintyre!gn!reader- sequel to I’m nothing, I’m nowhere)

Your world was falling apart around you. Your brother was going insane and now that he knew about your relationship with his literal biggest enemy, he refused to talk to you in any setting whatsoever. Even when you threatened to tell your mom he was being mean, he just shook his head and scoffed at you, continuing down the hallway. As much as you hated him for what he did to Phil, he was still your brother and you wished he was just a little bit more mentally stable.

You weren’t able to get the bracelet he stole from Phil either, the one that had your name as well as Phil’s very beloved dog's name. He was always either wearing it, which was kinda weird, or was hiding it somewhere very secretive during his matches. Much like the one he had won last week while you were out visiting the love of your life he had manhandled and left bloody in front of you. Both of the Mcintyres, going to money in the bank! The situation is great, just not the circumstances.

Either way, you hoped he wouldn’t show up on Smackdown again. You managed to sneak Phil into your locker room with you and it was just unnecessary for them to keep up the whole fighting thing when Phil just recovered from getting jumped the last time. You showed up extra early just in case, so you’d been there for about an hour before the show started. And of course, like everything else, it all went to shit in an instant. Not even ten minutes into the show, Drew saunters on out with a microphone and that damn bracelet on his wrist.

“Jesus Christ. Can’t I just have one thing?” You muttered, slumping further into the grungey couch. Phil gives your bicep a little rub with the hand around your shoulder while he chuckles at your side. “For the love of God, please just stay back here.”

“I will, I will. Promise. Drew will have no clue I’m even here.” He comforted you to the best of his ability with a kiss to your temple while you grumbled and shoved your way further into his shoulder. Unfortunately, your cuddles are interrupted by a swift knock on the door, which was done for clearly no reason as the door swung open with a call of your name right afterward.

“We’d like to talk to you about the situ- oh.” Cathy Kelley, a great friend of yours as well as Raw’s interviewer, was used to you being fine with her barging in and had told the man behind her, cameras equipped, that it would be fine to start on the way to your room to get all of the nonsense out of the way before they could talk to you. Now she stood with wide eyes and the microphone frozen in place below her lips as your hand came to shove the camera lens away from its perfect view of Punk. “Oh my god, I'm so sorry.” She mutters out quickly, before turning and shoving the cameraman out the door in front of her.

You follow the two out the door, resting your back against the door as if they would try to shove the camera back at Phil.

“What’d you, uh, what’d you want?” You mutter breathily, taken away at how bad the night was going. The worst it probably could have been, actually. Kathy stops jumbling apologies out and pauses before gathering herself and starting to ask her interview questions.

“You, um, you won your qualifying match which…uh, which qualified you for the Money in the Bank match. Now that the rest of your opponents have been confirmed, how are you feeling?” She was clearly jumbled by the incident and kept looking at the door behind you before catching herself and looking back into your eyes.

“Uh, I’m a little nervous, but thats just part of it all. I’m just as excited, and I have hope, I always do. I’ve needed a win like this for quite some time and the briefcase is pretty cool too, so.” Hopefully, at least one Mcintyre could bring something home. You didn’t really want to mention Drew when they just caught Phil in your lockeroom and he was on a psychotic rampage though.

“Good, good. Great. Um…” She seemed a little hesitant to ask the next question, her gaze dropping to the floor for a moment. “If you don’t mind me asking, with everything going on, how do you feel about your brother also qualifying?”

“Oh. Well, um,” You knew why she was hesitant now. Your voice rose as you copied her earlier actions in looking to the floor, fingers fiddling together as your eyebrows furrowed. “Uhm, I love Drew. There won't even be a time when I don’t, even if he's been a bit…y’know.” You looked back up with an airy, false laugh that only adds to the tension. “He will always be my brother and even if we aren’t agreeing at the moment, I hope he knows that I love him and that I believe he deserves a win like this too. I hope he feels the same way about me.”

“I’m sure he does,” Kathy tries to reassure you. “With Money in the Bank being tomorrow, have you been prepared-“ This time Kathy hasn’t cut herself off but rather, your hulking, dumbass brother who has shoved past the cameraman and Kathy is now face to face with you and seems to be really fucking mad.

“Drew, please-“ You hold your hands up, exhaustion seeping from you.

“Let me in there,” He points to the door behind you, eyes piercing through yours as he calls your name.

“You haven’t spoken to me in days, and now you are? Because he’s here?” God, you sounded so feeble. You have built yourself up so much and here comes Drew to topple it all down in about a week. He said nothing but your name in the same, cautionary tone as he inches closer to you. “You already hurt him enough.” His hand moves up to grasp your forearm, the one Phil had been tracing shapes into earlier.

“I lost in front of our family, our home because of him! You’re supposed to be next to me in this!” He roars in your face, his grip tightening.

“D, c’mon, you’re hurting me. Please-let’s just-D, let go please.” You’d never felt smaller in the presence of Drew, ever. You had curled yourself up against the door, shoulders hunched in on themselves while he stood above you in a way that made you feel like a child again. Like you were trying to hide from your father's gaze under the table after you’d broken your mother's china plate. Drew always made you feel stronger; like you could do anything with him by your side. He wasn’t even on your side anymore.

Luckily, in your distress, Sheamus had jogged over after hearing Drew’s yelling and had managed to get him a little farther away so he wasn’t crowding over you. The door behind you flung open and you stumbled back into Phil’s front while Sheamus pushed Drew back. At least he was able to keep him back until Drew noticed you in Punk’s hold.

“You dirty, little bastard!” He lunged forward with his cry, managing to get away from Sheamus for just a second and going straight for Punk. Phil tried to shove you out of the way, but you held onto him, grasping to the thin shirt clinging to his back, and prayed with eyes squeezed shut that maybe Drew would stop if you were in the way.

Even with your tight grasp on him, Drew manages to pull you from Phil and send you headfirst into the metal corner of a road case and you’re out in seconds. You're only out for a few seconds and dizzily wake up to Punk pushing his hoodie behind your head while you lay on the floor, watching countless staff members drag your brother away. You call out for him in your daze, confused about why they’re taking him away.

But your mind clears, and you're forced to know that your brother did this to you, forced to know that he doesn’t even seem to care. Forced to watch as your hero and your best friend is escorted away because he just gave you a concussion, forced to forfeit the one damn thing you had, the one damn thing you were grasping and trying so hard for, forced to give up your Money in the Bank spot.

thought i wouldn’t finish this tonight tbh, hoping to get around to the other one soon cuz im looking forward to it and i need to write for these damn series’ so bad like its actually ridiculous how long its been

Not grammarly telling me this is disheartening and gloomy also there were way too many spelling errors so there might still be some, my bad, im very tired and need to go to sleep very badly but i hope you enjoy (the titles another brokeback mountain refrence i thought it was funny teehee)

[garmanarnarr]

Rickorty Week Day 3: Caught

1.2k | secretly married | warning for language

@rickortyweek

“Jesus Christ, Jerry, go get the accountant, would you?” 

Beth’s hands shake around the tax filer. She taps the sheaf of papers against the desk to try and straighten them but it ends up just making things worse, sheets fumbling out into her lap. W-2s. Proof of health insurance. Unemployment papers for Jerry. And that’s just last year’s; she’s pulled their last seven returns, which she keeps in big binders in a filing cabinet in the home office, like they always suggest. 

She can tell her husband is making a face without even looking at him. 

“He said he charged,” Jerry pauses, “what, two thousand flurbos an—”

“FILING ERROR. FILING ERROR,” the big stone head in the middle of the office says, again, thumping the ground for emphasis. 

“I don’t care. Call him,” Beth says. 

“We don’t know the conversion rate!” 

“I know that if we don’t file these correctly beyond a shadow of a doubt, our bodies, and our children’s, are going to get repo’d. That’s what I know, Jerry.” 

“Alright,” Jerry says. “Fine.” Shoulders slumped, he shuffles out of the room. The intergalactic equivalent of the IRS manages to be equally drab as its US counterpart– or maybe worse. Beth had no idea there even was an intergalactic equivalent of the IRS you could be audited by until she was pulled right out of her living room and into space like how cows got sucked up into flying saucers in movies. She’d had a nasty looking gun pointed in her face by an alien and ten minutes to gather ‘the needed tax-related materials’ to ‘rectify a filing error.” She didn’t even have time to finish her glass of wine. 

Now she’s stuck in this office under threat of losing her own bodily autonomy. With a lot of paperwork. And a big stone head in the middle of the floor thundering “FILING ERROR. FILING ERROR.” as it pounds on the ground like the Easter Island equivalent of a Turbotax fuckup. 

She has no clue what’s wrong. Maybe something lingering from the divorce? Unless Jerry has some bank accounts in Turks and Caicos he hasn’t told her about, she’s pretty much fresh out of ideas. She leans over in her chair, twisting her hands in her hair, wishing she had a glass of wine. Perhaps several. 

As she stares at her bare feet (she hadn’t had time to grab shoes) she hears Jerry come into the room, followed by small, light footsteps. When she looks up, a nerdy alien in a polo shirt and khakis is sitting down across the desk from her. He has weakly wavering gray antennae, like everyone else that works here, and a laptop under his arm. 

“Hello, Mrs. Smith. Sounds like there’s a problem you’d like my help with?”

“FILING ERROR. FILING ERROR,” agrees the stone head, loudly. Beth is starting to get a really bad headache and she knows it isn’t from the Cab Sav. 

“I think something is wrong with my previous tax returns? Or something?” she says, pushing her stack of papers towards the accountant, which the accountant eyes, twirling one of his antennae between his fingers. 

“What planet?”

“Uh. Earth?”

“Ah, I see. Earth tends to be a particularly tricky one. You humans can never make up your minds. Makes keeping accurate records a pain.”

“Frankly, sir, I have no fucking clue what’s going on. Pardon my language. This has never been a problem for us before.” 

“Well, Mrs. Smith, if you’re willing to go line by line with me…”

“For the last seven years?”

“I’m paid to be thorough.” 

Beth’s going to pull her hair out. 

“Isn’t there anything you can do to just, like, make it faster? Please.” 

The accountant does some sort of equivalent of pursing his lips that might translate more clearly with different mouth anatomy. 

“Alright. Let me check my system for any inconsistencies.” 

He opens up his laptop and begins typing away. 

Gingerly, Jerry rests a hand on Beth’s back. “See, honey? Look at him go. I knew he was worth it.” 

Her phone rings, inexplicably. But of course, anything is explicable, considering what her father is capable of. She picks up on the second ring. 

“Beth.”

“Dad?” she asks, as if it could be anyone else. She watches as the accountant pulls a small device out of his pants pocket and starts scanning some of the papers with it, seemingly at random. 

“B-Beth, sweetie, tell me something. Are your personal taxes being audited by the intergalactic equivalent of the IRS right now?”

“How do you know?” she asks, instantly, then winces, then hates herself for wincing. This is obviously some Dad shit. There are antennas and strange electronic devices and angry space bureaucrats, which means it has Rick Sanchez written all over it. 

“Ah, jeez, fuck, okay.” Her father sounds oddly panicked, voice strained.  “L-listen, don’t. Don’t tell those squares anything, just wait until I get there–”

The accountant looks up. “I’ve found something, Mrs. Smith.”

“Ooooh, he’s found something, Beth!” Jerry echoes excitedly. 

Beth takes her phone away from her ear and rests it against her shoulder. 

“Yeah?’ 

“You seem to have some kind of error with the status of a family member’s filing.”

“What do you mean?” Faintly, she can hear her father saying Beth? Sweetie? on the other end of the line. 

“Mortimer Smith is listed as a dependent, here.” He points at a line on his laptop screen that’s highlighted in red. 

“Yes, of his mother.” She shoots a look at Jerry, who’s gone quiet.  

“Hmmm,” says the accountant, squinting at his screen. Beth’s stomach feels strange. 

“He’s seventeen. He’s my son.” 

“According to our records, he’s been filing with Rick Sanchez since 2016.”

Two years ago. Beth’s stomach drops. “You mean, he’s like, what, Rick’s dependent now? Like Rick fucking adopted him?”  

Suddenly scenarios of Rick whisking Morty away for real, forever, without her knowing, are flashing through her head. Taking him away on an adventure that he’d never come back from, far away from her. Who knew what he could do. How he could make her sign papers and forget she’d ever done it. Her forehead and armpits start to break out, clammy sweat and she wipes her suddenly damp hands on her pant legs. 

“No, jointly filing,” the accountant says coolly, as if it is nothing. As if it is the most normal thing in the world. “As a spouse.” 

In a flash, a slimy green disk opens in the middle of the room. Beth watches as one long, long, knobby leg steps through, then another. The ratty edge of a lab coat and one gray hand holding a portal gun. 

“First of fucking all,” her father says, as soon as his head bursts through, “let it be known, I didn’t– I didn’t want you to find out like this, Beth . This is pretty m-messed up, even by my standards. Second of all, fuck the government and all the little snitching bitch peons that work for it. Third of all, before you aAAUGGHsk, it’s not, it’s not legal on Earth. So don’t worry about that, sweetie.” 

Beth is very still. 

“CORRECTION ACCEPTED,” says the head, mouth clacking. It had stopped shaking the table with its movement. It seems smug, in fact. 

“See, Beth? Not legal on earth,” Jerry echoes, cheerfully. His face falls.  

“Wait. What?”

[rosemaeridream]

mercs have mommy issues. || aespa - uar

uchinaga aeri x reader (drabble)

warnings: guns, mentions of murder, reader is kinda insane but not so threatening, aeri just wants to live, reader’s got mommy issues (aeri give them a hug pls), aeri's weirdly calm?, stay away if u have a peanut allergy

A/N: i wrote this at like 2 am while i was delirious and had too many ideas for dialogue so enjoy xoxo also just realised there isn’t much romance it’s more aeri & reader — unless y’all want a second part which i would consider cause i enjoyed writing merc!reader and straightman!aeri (in the comedy sense - aeri’s not actually a straight man … ) anyway, just read and you'll understand what i mean.

Synopsis: Aeri just wants to have a happy and healthy life. So why can’t she get this stupid mercenary of her back. And why on earth do they keep calling her princess???

word count: 3.7k

(this is longer than a drabble but it’s my train of incoherent thoughts so it’s not worth putting in my actual works)

You scramble for the gun that’s placed on the table. It takes you a moment to get there, and by the time your favourite pistol is safely back in your hands, there’s a scream from the other side of the room and a vase is flying straight towards your face.

Dodging it with practised ease, you point your weapon at the new arrival who has just entered the apartment. The girl stands there with her eyes wide, long dark hair falling to rest messily over her shoulders after her overhand throw. She opens her mouth to let out a shriek. 

You physically cringe at the pitchy sound. “Oh my god, stop screaming-”

Clearly your words don’t work because a chair is flung in your direction along with another yell. Sidestepping the chair with a huff, you give her an exasperated glare, returning your gun to its position aimed at her. “I’m not trying to kill you! Jesus Christ-” You twist your wrist so the gun is on its side, a show of pacifism. “Stop throwing things at me.”

The girl pauses to catch her breath, glaring at you suspiciously. Her voice is shaky when she starts to speak. “What are you doing with that gun then?”

You sigh, still pointing it at her. “Okay fine, you’re kinda sort of slightly on my hit list.” Your eyes roll as if this is the kind of thing you deal with on a daily basis. 

She freezes, looking at you with her eyes wide. It’s not exactly a fearful expression, more surprised or astonished. “I’m on your what now?”

“Hit list?” She returns a blank stare.

“Uh… like a group of people to kill.” You explain, slightly confused. Who doesn’t know what a hit list is? Your empty hand goes to your combat jacket, slipping out a piece of paper. “See - hit list.” It has a couple names written underneath each other; the top few are ominously crossed out. 

“And your name!” You point to the scrawl with the gun, a little ‘Aeri <3’ written. Flashing a gleaming smile at her, like the tiny paper is your pride and joy. “I added a heart here because you’re the only one close to my age, and I thought you might appreciate it more than the others.”

“Uh-huh?” She steps backwards slowly, edging towards the door and you’re too caught up in explaining how the hit list works, and who your favourite targets were to notice. “Why am I on your list?” She squeaks out, picking up speed.

You shrug, pulled from examining your list. “I don’t ask questions, it’s not really my list.”

“Who’s is it then? And why am I on it?” She takes another two shaky steps, gaining ground quickly. 

You notice immediately this time, no longer looking at the piece of paper. Firing a warning shot at the door, she flinches and stumbles back in fright, putting distance between her and the door, where there is now a smoking bullet hole. Your trusty silencer makes sure that the shot isn’t too loud, but a gunshot is a gunshot and the firing pin still creates a metallic crack. Returning your gun to aim at her, your eyes light up in excitement. “Don’t move, princess.”

Aeri grimaces, clearly unimpressed with her new nickname. “princess? Don’t call me that, and don’t shoot at the door!” She scans around her apartment and you assume it's to look for other exits. Or maybe that’s just your brain working overtime and she’s just trying to figure out how much of a mess you’ve created in her home.

Feeling slightly guilty about the newly made peephole. “I’m sorry. It’s a lovely door. I’ll make sure the landlord adds in a fisheye lens for the next tennant.” Your words are said with utmost sincerity, clearly the door means a lot to her or so you assume. “Also, I think princess suits you! You’re definitely pretty enough.” You absentmindedly scratch your head with the gun.

Aeri rolls her eyes, as if being called princess was the very last thing in the large pool of nicknames she could have been given. “Whatever, I guess.” Your eyes get caught on the way she bites her lip, perhaps in thought. “Is there any way I can get off the list?”

You hum in thought. “You know, no one’s ever asked me that.” You move your gun down and think about it for a moment. 

“Probably because I’m usually quicker than this.” The words hang in the air between the two of you, just a casual comment for one, almost a threat to the other.

The beat of silence is disturbed by a frustrated sigh. “If you’re gonna kill me, I guess just get it over with, no reason to drag this out any longer.” There’s a flash of thick dark hair as the girl walks past you, slumps down on one of the kitchen stools with a huff, and rests her head on the benchtop, closing her eyes.

You blink, sort of puzzled. No one’s done that before either. Furrowing your brows, you sit down next to your target. The urge to comfort her comes before your trigger happy nature. “Woah, cheer up, princess, this whole accepting death thing is a bit depressing.”

“Well, what do I have left to live for? I’ve never met or seen you before, but if you’re here to kill me then someone clearly wants me dead. There’s no point living like this.” The words come out almost lighthearted but there’s an undertone of fear and sadness. Aeri glances at you from the corner of her eye. “What’s your name anyways?”

Usually you wouldn’t tell anyone your name, but thinking about it, it doesn’t matter anyway. Squinting in decision, you ultimately come up with a compromise. “That’s classified, but you can choose a nickname if you wish.”

Instantly, she throws you a look that screams ‘Seriously, what is wrong with you??’. “Yeah, no thanks.” And yet, Aeri still sits up properly on the stool and the tiniest of smiles forms on her lips. “So… is killing me like… your job? Or a hobby?”

“My Job.” You fiddle with the safety catch on your firearm. “You rack up a pretty price. Nearly 5,000,000,000KRW.”

A couple seconds tick by before Aeri reacts, she doesn’t really seem to register the amount. “Oh wow…” Her eyes move to the benchtop and she seems to deflate a little, if there was a sad sort of squeaky noise she’d 1:1 replicate a balloon. “Why are you still talking to me then? Shouldn’t you be killing me or something?”

“I don’t know.” You respond after a beat, confused by your own actions. Although she looks like the human equivalent of a slinky toy failing to get to the bottom step, you appreciate that she still looks stunning in her last moments. Her hair shiny and clean, jeans hugging her legs nicely and her top feminine but not extensively. “No one’s ever thrown a vase at me before. Or a chair for that matter.” 

Aeri tilts her head and considers you for a moment before she bursts out laughing. “Wait, so you’ve never met someone brave enough to fight back before? What about the other people on your list? Did they all just sit there and accept their fate?”

Your hand waves in the air like what she’s asked is silly. “Everyone else is dead within the first couple minutes. Or like, they beg and cry.” You look around her kitchen, eyes getting caught on the plate with a peanut butter sandwich you were making before Aeri came home. “I got a bit distracted tonight.” You push up from your stool, leaning across the bench with a small ‘sorry’ to pick up the sandwich, then you pull half your mask down to eat.

She stares at you like you're crazy. Maybe you are. “You’re not concerned about me seeing your face?”

“I mean, you’re about to die, sooo…” You bite half of the sandwich slowly. It’s been cut diagonally into triangles just how you like. “Besides, it’s only my mouth. How are you going to identify me from that?”

“I- yeah… I guess so…” Aeri trails off, seemingly lost in thought. Her body relaxes, like there's no trace of fear left, just pure confusion.

“You’re calmer than I thought. Usually people cry a bit. One guy pissed his pants.” Another bite of the sandwich. This time you make a little moan of appreciation. “God, what peanut butter do you use? This is so good.” 

Surprisingly, she smiles at you. “Oh, it’s Skippy. I know, pretty basic but it kinda slaps, right?”

You mull over her words. Skippy wasn’t your usual choice, but maybe you should start buying it. Taking another bite of your peanut butter goodness, crumbs fly as you speak. “You’re sorta cool. I’m starting to feel bad about killing you.”

Aeri sends you a sceptical look, raising her eyebrows. “I don’t doubt you’re going to kill me eventually.” She shifts a bit in on the kitchen stool, her leg bouncing. Whether it be with nervousness or adrenaline, you can’t decide. “So why did you choose not to shoot me the second you saw me?”

“Well, you threw a vase at me. And a chair. It’s hard to aim while you’re dancing around flying objects.” You point out, finishing up one half of the sandwich then moving onto the other. “Do you have jam?”

Eyeing you, she slides off the stool and walks to her fridge, rooting around, then sits back on the stool with a jar of jam. “Don’t eat the whole thing. My mum gave it to me.”

A beat of silence follows as Aeri watches you slather one side of the remaining sandwich in jam. Then she speaks again. “I know I’m not dead yet, but I'm guessing if I were to convince you not to kill me then you’d just go home and find another target, right?”

“Yeah. I actually have another one tonight, but I think I may have missed my window.” You think over your schedule as you spread the jam thickly before closing up the sandwich and taking a bite. “Strawberry… Can I keep your mum?”

Her lips quirk up and she rolls her eyes, almost playfully.

Then there’s a pregnant silence.

After a moment or two of Aeri watching you eat, she tilts her head over to the tap. “So… Do you think you would let me get some water?”

“Are you going to throw the glass at me?” You move the sandwich from your mouth right before you take another bite.

She sighs, rolling her eyes again, this time less playfully. “No, no I won’t throw the glass at you. I promise.” Her arms cross and she leans on the counter. She looks depleted, like there’s no hope. You suppose there isn’t.

Studying her with a sturdy gaze, you decide that even if she does throw the glass at you, it’d be easy to dodge. “Sure then.” But just in case, you put your gun down on the counter close to the jam.

Another round of silence takes over as Aeri fills a glass of water and gradually drinks it. Well, at least until she breaks the silence again. “Are you working alone?” Her body twists so that the question could be addressed directly to you.

“Hm? Like, am I alone here killing you or what?” Your tongue runs over your teeth, poking at little bits of bread caught then you take another rather large bite of the pb and j.

“Yeah, are you alone in this whole assassination thing? Like, do you have a partner or a boss that you report the mission results to?” Aeri moves back across the kitchen and leans close to you. You can feel her watching your every move.

“Nope! All anonymous. I’m really just a goon, I suppose.” Your words are muffled by the amount of bread and peanut butter and jam in your gob. Patting your combat jacket, you pull out a little tube. You can tell she’s about to ask what it is, so you just shake the contents onto your sandwich. Rainbow sprinkles come out. “The blue ones taste the best.”

She blinks twice before muttering something along the lines of ‘Don’t they all taste the same?’ but you’re too happy munching on your sandwich to really hear. 

“So… you’re literally just a mercenary getting orders on a random assassination from a client?” Her eyes light up for a moment. “I could literally just pay you more to not kill me, couldn’t I?”

You scratch your neck, slightly saddened that you’re about to burst her bubble. “You could. But where are you going to get 5 billion won? That’s like 3 mil USD. 5 mil CAD. Maybe… 500 mil Japanese yen?” Squinting you try to convert in your mind.

While you distract yourself with conversion rates, Aeri begins to freak out. “Wait, woah 5 BILLION??!” She steps back in shock. “That’s the reward?” Her hand flies out to grip the counter, trying to contain her panic. “What the fuck have I done to deserve such a high price??”

You shrug, not surprised by her reaction. This was closer to the type of thing all your other targets did. “Don’t ask me, princess. I just get the orders.” Your legs swing back and forth as the sandwich diminishes to a couple bites. 

Aeri glares at you. Assuming it’s about the nickname and not the fact that you’re here to kill her in general, you give her a polite smile. “Well… the money and the orders. I get paid half when I accept.” 

Her eyes widen and she takes a shaky breath. “So you’re getting 500 MILLION for walking into my apartment and having a chat with me?” She processes the information rather well, you think. “I could give you half of what you’ve already got and you can just call it a day, right?”

“Well, I mean, I get the other 500 mil after you’re dead.” You point out. “That would only be 750 mil. I’d be 250 short.” You go to bite your sandwich again and find that there’s nothing left.

“What if I give you the other half then? 500 million?” She takes a couple steps messily in a circle, her hands flailing. “My life is more than just 500 million fucking won, right?”

“I personally believe that lives cost $0 but you do you, princess.” You say nonchalantly, picking up your pistol again.

“Oh my god, why are you calling me princess all the time?” Aeri snaps at you. Then her eyes flick to the gun in your hand and she smiles nervously. “So you’re not accepting my offer? What if I make it better? Half the money, and get you a lifetime supply of Skippy peanut butter?”

Your eyebrows furrow. “You’re pretty like a princess. And you have those Disney eyes.” 

Standing up to stretch, your back crackles. Then your hand moves to slide your mask back down over your lower face, covering your identifiable features up again. 

Aeri watches you do so, almost glaring at you. “Ok, let’s put your attraction to me aside for a second and think about what I’m offering. You take the offer and you can have 500 million in cash, plus a lifetime supply of Skippy peanut butter. I’ll even throw in some of my mum’s Strawberry Jam.”

Your eyes light up when you hear her offer the jam, but then you remember your contract. “Mmm I don’t know. I already accepted the offer, and turning back would be a slight on the higher ups.”

“A slight? So they’d be upset if you let me go?” Aeri steps towards you again “Oh my god, I swear on my life I won't tell anyone you were here, I’d just prefer not to die.” Her voice is laced with fear, her eyes pleading. This is when you started to hate your job. Bargaining was always the worst part. “Couldn’t you just tell someone I ran away or something?”

“Not plausible. When people run I just make a mad dash after.” You pretend to run for a moment, then turn back to Aeri looking proud of yourself. “It always ends up with the target dead.”

That final sentence seems to get to her and her skin is a sickly pale sort of tint. Weary that she might throw up, you take a wide step back. “Are you actually gonna kill me?” Her face pales further and now she steps back, eyes wide open. The brown almost shimmering with tears. “Please don’t do this, I just wanna live happily and healthily.” Her voice cracks, and the tears start to fall. “I don’t want my mum to be sad.”

As she starts to make her final speech, you prepare your firearm. It’s beloved, having added your favourite silencer. LIfting it up to aim where it would hurt the least, you are a little sympathetic to your targets, your finger brushes against the trigger. 

But something about her last sentence makes you pause. It echoes around your mind. Bouncing into the depths and then running you over like a bullet train. “Your… mum?” The words aren’t meant to be said out loud but they come out anyway.

Aeri watches tearily as you freeze and her voice catches in her throat. “Mum, yeah.” She looks at the floor, trying to hold back her tears. But it’s always hard to stop crying once you’ve started. “She’s my whole world. Always telling me how proud she is. When I’m down I think about how much she’d miss me if I were gone.” She looks back up at you, and you have to look away, avoiding her ‘Disney princess eyes’. 

“She’s been through so much… having to deal with losing people. I promised her I’d stay safe.”

You grunt, your jaw clenched so hard you could feel the enamel scratching off your teeth. Then finally you lower your gun with a huff. “This is why I don’t talk to my targets.” You mutter to yourself before you flick the safety back on.

Your now ex-target rubs her eyes when she sees you lowering your gun. “Hey wait, you’re not gonna kill me?” She looks at you, her tear-streaked face staring earnestly into your eyes. You hold back a huff. “But what about the client? Your bosses? Will there be consequences for sparing me?” 

“Yeah, probably.” You move around the room, grabbing the bugs you had placed around her apartment a couple days prior.

Aeri watches you and something switches in her. “And what exactly are you going to tell whoever ordered the hit?” She takes a step towards you, for the first time since she entered her apartment. “What if they send someone else to do the job?”

“Oh, they’ll send someone else.” You nod to yourself before strapping your things to your combat jacket. “I’d say lock your doors, but I don’t think that’ll help much.” Humming, you make an advance back to the window you came from.

“Then what the fuck was the point in sparing me if you know they’re gonna come after me again? You saved me, what, like a week at most?” She crosses her arms and glares at you, her eyebrows furrowing in disapproval. “Why go through this whole charade? I could’ve just died and it would’ve all been over with.”

You pause, thinking over her words. They circle in your mind, turning into scenarios that lead to the loss of your job. Then you grunt exasperatedly. “Oh my god, princess. You’re not my responsibility.” You twirl in a circle, frustrated, before walking back over to her and giving her a childlike squint.

She rolls her eyes, clearly still not a fan of your nickname. “Then why even let me live at all? Why not just shoot me? Why go to all of this effort just to spare my life and prolong the inevitable?” Aeri points a finger, like a gun to her head, then moves it to the floor. “This, right here. You sparring my life was so unnecessary.”

You groan, moving your head in a circle. “It’s your fault for bringing up your mum, I can’t deal with old people being sad.” 

“She’s not even old!” Her voice raises a level. “And what about me feeling sad? What about YOU making my loved ones sad?” She moves her finger to your face now, clearly frustrated. It’s getting to the point that you’d be intimidated by her, except for the way her finger trembles. Now that the threat of dying seems to be over, she seems to realise how absolutely ridiculous this entire situation is. “Your clients are just going to send another assassin after me, so saving me was the most pointless, time-wasting choice you could’ve ever made.”

“Fine! Oh my god, Jesus Christ. I’ll make sure they don’t send another hitman.” You groan, then huff, then grumble to yourself as you check your pockets.

“And how the hell are you going to ensure that?” Aeri asks. “They paid you so much money to do this, do you think they’re going to just give up and be like ‘Aw okay, we’ll look for someone else.’? I honestly don’t think their next choice is going to be any nicer than you.”

You give her a glare behind your mask, annoyed that she can’t see the fullness of your frustration. “I’ll just kill the next one, jeez.”

Her jaw drops open as she stares at you, completely stunned. “You’re gonna kill them? Really? Even if it goes against the original orders?” Her eyebrows raise in shock, her head tilts and she crosses her arms. She’s clearly angry. “Why on earth would you do that?”

“I don’t know.” You sound meek.

“What a stupid answer.” Aeri rolls her eyes, looking at you with utter disbelief. “So, let me get this straight. You’re going to kill another assassin and probably get your loyalty card revoked and get into a bunch of trouble just because you feel bad for me because I talked about my mommy?” She shakes her head, looking completely flabbergasted at your responses. “Does the job matter that little to you? Wouldn’t you rather just ‘BANG’ and get paid?” She puts her finger back to her head and mimes the hammer striking.

“Mothers are important, okay?” You practically whine, taking a couple steps forward to remove her hand from her head.

Aeri takes another breath to continue her tirade, but your words and touch make her pause. Her entire expression dissolves into joint confusion and concern. “Huh? Are you like… mum-less?” You can tell her words are trying to be harsh but they just come out sort of flat.

“That’s classified.” 

She raises an eyebrow like she knows that you’re lying, and that’s when you decide it’s time to jump ship.

Moving away to her window again, this time you make it to the frame. Lifting the lower pane with ease, you wave your hand behind you in an aloof manner.  “Try not to die, princess.”

She looks at you, her mouth slightly ajar again. “Oh, ok.” She looks up at the ceiling as she tries to process what just happened. The more she thinks about it, the more ridiculous it seems. “Okay, I’ll try not to die,” Her voice is laced with sarcasm and she can’t believe she’s saying these words right now. “Thank you so much for sparing my life, Merc. The world is a much better place with you around.”

You flip her off as you vault through her window and into the night. 

A/N: my search history is full of peanut butter brands now (this is the dumbest thing i’ve written in my entire life)

[specialagentlokitty]

Patrick Jane x reader - signs

Hi! I love that this is a safe space and I appreciate the work you’ve done so far! Been reading for a bit now. May I request a Jane (Mentalist) x reader (platonic please) with the reader getting lightheaded? You can make it fun, angsty or whatever feels right. Totally okay if it’s not on your “want to write” list. I’ll follow for more stories either way :) Have a good day! - @their-love 💜

Getting lightheaded was nothing new for you, sometimes it happened while standing up, sometimes while walking around, other times while just sitting.

It was something Patrick had picked up on pretty quickly, he noticed the way you would sway or stumble about sometimes, and he decided he was going to ask you about it.

“Why do you stumble when you stand?” He asked.

Looking up from your worked, you felt the familiar rush of being lightheaded it you and you blinked a few times before smiling at him.

“It’s nothing serious.”

“It just happened again didn’t it?”

You grinned a little bit.

“Yeah, I get lightheaded a lot.”

“Medical condition? Anemia?”

“Nope, there’s not reason for it really they did all the tests. Sometimes my brain just decided it’s not having any of it.”

Patrick smiled and nodded his head a little bit.

“So when you stumble or nearly fall over it’s cause you’ve gone light headed?”

“Yup! Exactly!”

He nodded and made a mental note of that, so when a few days later you were standing at a crime scene with him listening to Lisbon talked he watched you.

You were stood perfectly fine one minute then the next you stumbled back a few times and he planted his hand on your shoulders.

“If you’re going to fall at least give a man a warning (Y/N).” He chuckled.

“Sorry, sorry.” You laughed.

You stood up properly and looked at him.

“So what’s it like?”

“It’s kinda like you just space out, and the world is flipped on its side I guess, something like that. It’s really weird.”

Patrick nodded his head.

Whenever you got lightheaded he always caught you and supported you until you were able to stand on your way.

It was instinct for him now to just catch you, he didn’t have to think about it, he just did it.

It’s why you were such good friends, because you knew he would always have your back and he would always catch you if you needed him too.

You two were walking down the stairs at the precinct and you just seemed to stop.

“Oh Jesus Christ!”

Patrick lunged forward and he stood in front of you, letting you fall into his back and he caught you, nearly falling himself.

“We really need some sort of warning sign.” He said.

You laughed a little, patting his shoulder.

“I mean you could’ve just let me fall down the stairs. I’d get time of work and that’s always great.”

“Uh huh, then I’ll have to explain everything to Lisbon and I’m not taking the fall for you.”

“You nearly did.”

He chuckled a little and shook his head at you.

“You ready?”

“Uh huh.”

He nodded and he helped you walked the rest of the way down the stairs.

“Seriously, do you not get any warning signs or anything?”

“Oh no I do. I can feel it.”

Patrick snapped his head to you.

“And you didn’t think to tell me because…?”

You shrugged a little.

“You have a sixth sense for this now it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine oh my god!”

You grinned at him and ran away and Patrick chased after you demanding you tell him exactly what the warning signs were that you were going to get light headed so he knew

[evie-sturns]

Truth or Dare - Matt Sturniolo

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summary: an innocent game of truth or dare results in you losing your virginity to matt.

warnings: NSFW, swearing.

--------------------------°°••....••°°--------------------

"mattt.." i groan as my head rests on his lap. "you alright baby?" matt says quietly as he puts down his phone.

me and matt have been together for about 2 months, but we've never done anything sexually, ive never done anything sexually. im a total virgin and matt doesnt know.

"we should do something" i say sitting up on the couch and readjusting my ponytail. "like what?" matt says softly as he stands up "likee... truth or dare?" i say giggling and matt smiles at me "what are we, in 6th grade" matt says with a small laugh.

i stand up and drag matt to the bedroom, shutting the door behind us. matt sits down on the bed and i instantly crawl onto his lap, straddling him. "okay hmf, truth or dare?" i ask smiling and matt grins at me "truth? i dont know." he replies awkwardly "have you ever done anything illegal?" i say smirking and he doesn't reply. "matt..." i say dragging out the 'a' trying to hold back another laugh.

after a few rounds, matt starts to shift uncomfortably under me. i reposition myself on his lap and he groans "are you okay? am i too heavy sorry.." i say awkwardly "no- no..you just might need to get off" matt mumbles as i see his cheeks flush.

i realise whats happening, matts bulge is poking my ass. as soon i realise i jump off him and cover my face out of embarrassment. my grabs my wrists and pulls my hands off my eyes. my cheeks go a deep red and he smiles at me, i see his eyes flick down to my lips and i smash my lips into his. he grabs my waist and pulls me back onto his lap. he breaks for a second and grabs the hem of my shirt. "ca-can i?" matt asks and i dont fully understand what he means, but i agree to it. he pulls my shirt over my head, revealing my pink lacy bra. my eyes widen but i ignore it.

is this really happening? am i even ready? am i about to loose my virginity?

i go along with it, ill be fine. he unclasps my bra and his cheeks and the tips of his ears go pink. he is the first man to ever see my chest. he flips us over so im on my back, he looks down at me and puls down my shorts slowly, revealing my matching panties. "fuck your so perfect." matt grumbles. hes fully clothed but im only wearing my panties, its somewhat humiliating. he quickly pulls down his sweatpants and his dick springs out onto his stomach, its big. jesus christ its big.

he pulls my panties off and rubs his tip against my clit. he teases my entrance and my breathing becomes more frantic, why am i so scared? i feel a few tears roll down my cheek and matt gasps looking at me, insantly pulling away from me and yanking up his sweatpants. "hey, hey, are you okay?" he says shakily grabbing my cheek "sorry." i sniffle as i wipe my eyes. matt sits down on the bed and i sit up, he maintains a distance "dont cry, im so sorry can you talk to me please, whats going on sweetheart" he says gently and fidgets with his rings. i shuffle over and sit on his lap. his breath hitches in his throat as my naked body leans against him, but he plays it off as a cough. "just promise you wont judge me okay?" i say breaking the silence and he stambles "i would never judge you sweetheart." he says soothingly

"i know i havent told you but im a.. uh.. virgin." i whisper out and he nods understandingly "but i thought i was ready.. its not your fault i- i just uh. when you took your pants off it was.." i say quietly as i wipe my eyes "its big.. your dick is really big." i say with an embarrassed giggle. he just smiles at me "im sorry for taking it fast, i would've gone slow if i knew, your just so pretty i assumed youd done it." he says comforting me and rubbing my thighs "i wanna do it still though." i say quietly and he nods "o-okay!!" he says trying to hold back his excitement "do you wanna ask me questions before we start" he asks "well i did wanna know uhm, how many people have you fucked." i say softly "3 people, yeah uh.. three." he says i let out a sigh of relief "so your good at it??" i reply instantly and matt laughs rubbing his eyes "i guess?" he says embarrased and i get off his lap.

"can you talk me through it?" i ask laying back on the bed "yeah, okay sure!" he says positioning himself between my legs "im gonna have to stretch you out a little first okay? i dont want it to hurt." he says and i nod "just my middle finger, have you ever done this to yourself?" i shake my head "no.." and he just nods "okay thats fine!" he says "just relax okay." he says pushing his long middle finger all the way into me "your doing so good." he growls quietly thrusting it slowly in and out. "i'm gonna add another finger, and your gonna take it really well." he says pushing another finger into me.

this is a really new sensation, but it feels really good. it kind of burns though.

after a few minutes of him spreading his fingers apart inside of me he pulls both of his fingers out and i whine "baby your gonna get my cock, be patient." he says sternly and i nod quickly. he positions his tip at my entrance and i moan softly "such pretty noises." he mumbles as he pushes his tip just inside of me and pulls it back out, then pushes it in again. "so fucking tight oh my god." he whimpers as he pushes slightly more into me "im just gonna give you half okay?" he says sliding further into me and i let out a long moan. "its okay baby, hold my hand" he says reaching his hand out and gripping my sweaty palm.

"your only taking half, do you think you can take the rest of it?" he whispers in my ear "yeah- yes matt.." i say nervously and he slides all the way in, his tip kissing my cervix "so good for me baby." he says resting inside of me "so so perfect." he groans as he slides all the way out to his tip, then pushes all the way inside me again. "fuck.." he whimpers as he starts to thrust in and out faster "matt oh my god." i moan as he presses on my lower stomach with his free hand, so he can feel how deep he is inside of me. the stomach bulge is clear and its driving matt crazy. "your clenching baby, cum for me." he whispers "i- i dont know how to!!" i say loudly and he shushes me "yes you do, i know you can." he stays calm and i let out a loud moan before orgasming all over his length "goodd... fuck oh my fuck.. so good baby so so perfect." he whispers words of affirmation in my ears before abrubtly pulling out and cumming all over my tits "fuck fuck fuck.." he says quickly as he strokes his dick a few final times before collapsing next to me and grabbing my waist to pull me into a tight hug on the bed. "you did so well. so so well." he says in between heavy pants as my legs just shake.

"your legs are shaking, you sure your okay?"

"i-i just..." i can barely string together a sentence as my hole aches.

-------------------------°°••....••°°------------------

yall BETTER send me requests in my inbox PLEASE!!

[supernaturalgirl20]

The Way Back to You

Part 2

Pairings: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, explicit, unprotected sex, oral (both receiving), semi public sex, a lot of angst, fluff, cursing, infidelity, mention of miscarriage, enlisting.

Summary: You find yourself back in your hometown after almost ten years. The one place you swore you’d never come back to. Now, back for your brothers wedding, you have to face your past, along with the man whose always had your heart. Can you have a second chance at forever?

Part 1

Comments and reblogs really appreciated 🥰

Your feet carried you out of the house and down the driveway, past the old oak tree and onto the street. You shuddered as the cool night breeze pimpled your skin, silently cursing yourself for not grabbing your coat on the way out. Laughter filters from the open window of the sitting room and you take in shaky breath, hand coming to rest on your chest. Relieved to have escaped the crowd. Escaped him.

The beat of your heart thrums beneath your skin and you gaze up at the night sky admiring the twinkling stars. Something you’ve missed in the city. A car door slamming startles you and you continue to move down the street to the one spot you know you’ll have peace.

The corners of your mouth twitch, lifting into a smile as you take in the small park. A small slide, a set of swings, a seesaw and a small bench. It’s exactly the same, you think to yourself as you make your way over towards the set of swings. Sitting on the swing you begin to move. Back and forth, higher and higher, laughing as you lean back, hair almost touching the ground. You felt like you were flying.

“I knew I’d find you here.” The deep timbre of his voice sends shockwaves down your spine as you come to an abrupt halt. “Frankie?” you say startled. “What are you doing here?”

His figure emerges from the shadows, and you let your eyes trail over him, taking in his broad shoulders, the thickness of his thighs and the way his jeans hug his ass just right. Jesus, get a grip! Averting your gaze, you focus on the leaves on the ground and how they crunch under your feet. “Saw you rush out of the house. Wanted to see if you were, ok?”

“I’m…I’m fine, honestly. Just a little too much, you know?” He smiles down at you before motioning to the empty swing beside you. “Can I?”

Nodding you watch as he grabs the metal chains that are holding the swing, giving it a quick tug. You scrunch your eyes at him, and he lets out a nervous laugh. “Just making sure they aren’t gonna break. Don’t want to fall on my ass.” Laughter bubbles up from inside you and he laughs right along with you. “Same old Frankie.”

He stops laughing and you glance over at him quickly to find him slumped a little, his shoulder tense. “Yeah, same old me.” Guilt courses through your veins and you unconsciously reach over resting your hand on his thigh, squeezing gently. “That’s a good thing, Frankie.” Lifting your gaze, you find him already looking at you. Those brown eyes flickering around your face as if he was searing it to memory. As if he was mapping it. Every dip, every curve, every freckle. You become acutely aware of how close you both are. Of how your hand still rests atop his strong thigh, the heat permeating your skin. But you pull it away as if you’ve been burned.

Clearing his throat, he turns his gaze upwards, and you admire the silhouette of his face. That strong prominent nose that you loved, love. Especially when it ran along the skin of your bare thigh. Stop! “How did you know I’d be here?”

Keeping his gaze upwards, he smiles before answering you. “Course I knew where to find you, shortcake. I always know where to find you.” Christ, your heart is going to give out its beating so hard. Screaming at you from beneath your ribcage to get up off the swing and close the distance between you both. To pull off his cap and run your fingers through his hair. To kiss his slightly chapped lips and ravage his mouth with your tongue.

But you can’t.

He doesn’t belong to you anymore.

“Do you remember that time, when your father was in one of his moods and you had been missing for hours. I remember Pope calling and he was frantic, he was so worried. Said you’d been gone a while and they couldn’t find you.”

“Yeah, I remember. Although I’d rather not,” you say, tone slightly clipped. “Sorry.”

“Its fine.”

“Well, once he hung up, I ran out of the house and came straight here. I knew this is where you’d be. And sure enough, there you were, sitting on the bench in the pouring rain. You were soaked to the bone, and I stood there thinking, Fuck I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.”

“Frankie I…”

“All I’m saying is that this is where you came to get away from it all. It was always your place.” Our place.

“Well, I distinctly remember you sitting on that bench over there crying over, what was her name? Sophia? Sara?”

“Sophia Rodriquez and I was not crying. I had a hair in my eye.” You laugh loudly, patting him on the back. “Sure. Whatever you say, Frankie.”

“Its also the spot where you told me you loved me,” he whispers, his eyes boring into the side of your face. You can’t do this. Not right now. Not here.

Standing, you wrap your arms around yourself and begin to walk away. “I better go, Frankie. Santi will be wondering where I got to, not to mention my mom will send out a search party.” Frankie stands and walks towards you slowly, afraid that any sudden movements might scare you off. “Look, shortcake, I don’t want things to be awkward between us, ok? We were friends before everything else. Can’t we just…try and go back to that?”

You hesitate a moment. Unsure if being friends is even possible after all you’ve both been through. “I’ll try, Frankie. It’s all I can promise.”

“I’ll take it, shortcake. Come on, lets get you back.”

***

Frankie walked up the street his feet instinctively carrying him to the one place he knew you’d be. The park.

When he rounds the corner, sure enough there you are laughing as you lean back on the swing and it’s as if no time has past at all. He’s transported back to all those times you would both hang out here, laughing, crying and …

He takes this moment to take you in, to admire the way you seem so carefree. Fuck he’s really missed you. He doesn’t think he realised just how much until you were right there in front of him. If things were only different. If it hadn’t ended the way it did. He kicks himself everyday for the part he played, the things he said.

Taking in a deep breath he moves towards you, slowly. “I knew I’d find you here.”

You let him sit beside you and he can’t help but admire the beauty of your face. The freckles that dust your cheeks, the dimple you get when you smile, or the scar just above your eye from a bike accident.

Your eyes sparkle under the moonlight and he thinks that this is it. This is the reason he hasn’t dated anyone since you left.

None of them will ever compare to you.

Conversation is easy. It always is with you and Frankie can’t help but reminisce about all those times you used to hide out here. Alone at first and then with him. This is where your friendship blossomed into something more and the night you told him you loved him with stay with him forever.

He’s so caught up in his thoughts he doesn’t realise he’s said all this out loud and now you’re pulling away. Fuck! Rain it in Frankie or you will loose her forever.

Friends. We can be friends right? It won’t be that hard to keep my feelings in check?

“Come on, let’s get you back.”

***

Its been two days since you arrived back home and life has just gone right back to how it was before you left.

Rubbing your eyes, the sun shining through the curtains a harsh reminder that it’s time for you to get up. You groggily sit up and stretch out your back when the sound of muffled voices draws your attention.

You stand and grab your oversized hoody – the one you’ve had for years - from the floor and make your way down the stairs.

“There she is. Thought I was gonna have to throw a bucket of ice on you to wake you up. Coffee?”

“Yeah thanks big bro. Oh…Frankie what are you doing here?” You say slightly embarrassed at your lack of clothing, only wearing your hoody and shorts.

“Rude.” Santiago says as he hands you a steaming cup. “Sorry. It’s just like, really early?”

“Are you asking or stating? Cause it’s like one in the afternoon.”

“What? No it’s not,” you say incredulously as you tilt your head to look up at the clock. 10 am. “You shit,” you curse as you give Santi the finger. All the while Frankie sits his eyes glued to your figure. You don’t notice and then he’s laughing at your antics.

“Thought I’d come see me if you wanted to come to the farmers market? I know you always used to love going.” Santi sits atop the stool beside Frankie, his eyes flickering between you both.

“Umm, sure. Why not? Just let me get changed and then I’m yours.” Frankie seems in a daze but quickly shakes it off and smiles up at you. “Great.”

***

Jesus!

She’s wearing my hoodie. The one I gave her the first night she stayed at mine. She used to walk around the house when my parents weren’t there in nothing but that. Fuck! Does she know it’s mine? Does she remember?

Y/N runs off up the stairs to dress and Frankie can feel his best friend staring at him. “What? Just say what ya gotta say man.”

“Nothin’ just…everything ok with you two?”

“Yeah. Great. Good. Fine.” Frankie wants the floor to open up and swallow him whole. Anything to get off this topic. “I just don’t want you getting your hopes up man. That’s all. I know you love her still. That your hopin’ maybe you can both have a second chance and I hope so too, but…look I don’t know what went on back then and I don’t know if I want to. But Y/N isn’t the same girl she was back then. She’s been hurt, so just don’t push her.”

Frankie loves how much Pope loves you. He was even a little envious, always wishing he had a brother or sister but he knows he’s right. He can’t push you. He hurt you back then - you hurt him too but that’s not the point…with the things he said and he knows he has no right to ask for another shot. So he’ll wait. For as long as it takes for you to come to him in your own terms.

It can’t hurt if he gives you a little nudge though, right?

Part 3

Everything: @maievdenoir @amneris21 @hnt-escape @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed @jediknight122 @ayrusss @hayley-the-comet @sherala007 @alexxavicry @scorpio-marionette @donnaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @beskarprincessjenny @littlemisspascal @icanbeyourjedi @thatpinkshirt @maryfanson @sunnshineeexoxo @misspearly1 @misspearlssideblog @its--fandom--darling @sara-alonso @doommommy @trickstersp8 @nembees @kaitieskidmore1 @mswarriorbabe80 @allthe-ships @tintinn16 @rosie-posie08 @manuymesut @all-the-way-down-here

Frankie Morales: @paulalikestuff @vanemando15 @hb8301 @djarinslove @browneyes-issac @agingerindenial @afootnoteinyourhappiness @almaeunice @readsalot73 @marielovesstuff @a3trogirl @loonymagizoologist @amb11

The way back to you: @mashomasho @meandorla @dadbodfanatic-x

[toomuchracket]

omg can we have you looking after flatmate matty when he’s sick?? maybe bringing him cold medicine and helping him shower and giving lots of extra cuddles🥺

so its like mid-morning you're like up and dotting around the flat and you're kind of concerned because matty still isn't up yet (this is before you're together btw). like you know he wakes up later the night after a show but this is pushing it. and you're hesitant to go into his room in case there's someone with him, but every time you've gone past it's either been him snoring or just total silence, so you figure he's alone. you knock and open the door slightly, and poke your head round to see matty wrapped in the duvet SHIVERING despite the heating being on. you go over and he's like "babe i really really don't feel well" and his voice is all scratchy, and he's SWEATING. and you feel his forehead and he's burning up so you get him up and like manoeuvre him into the bathroom (he's so weak he can't stand by himself) to the shower to try and shift his fever. and even ill matty's still joking like "you know, i didn't picture this being the scenario in which we first showered together, but ok" and you pointedly ignore the fact he's just admitted to thinking about you and him in the shower together and just try and get him undressed in the most dignified way you can. and you're like "if you can face away from me i can hold you up without you having to compromise your modesty. i'll have to see your bare arse but that's nothing new" and matty's like "annoying that you've seen my bum and i haven't seen yours" and you're like "stop thinking about me naked and focus on feeling better" and he's like "those two things correlate it's fine" and you're like "jesus christ" but internally you're all !!!!!!! and the heat of the shower seems to soften the congestion in his chest so he's coughing this like awful awful cough and all you can really do is rub his back while holding him upright and doing your best not to look at him naked (but because he's so ill your overwhelming feeling is concern, not lust, so you're fine). anyway, the shower seems to revitalise him a little bit, so you leave matty to dry off and get dressed in his room and run to make him a cup of tea and get some soluble paracetamol. he has a bit of a tantrum about the latter, and won't force himself to drink it unless you sit and cuddle him afterwards to make him feel better (which melts your heart), so you end up sitting on matty's bed with his head in your lap, softly blow-drying his hair (so his cold doesn't get worse) while you watch my neighbor totoro (aka the best film of all time if u wanna feel better). when matty starts to fall asleep, you manoeuvre him onto the pillows and let him nap, while you go to the kitchen and start to reheat a batch of chicken noodle soup you'd made and frozen especially for situations like these. forty minutes later, though, you hear matty literally crying out your name and run back in a panic. and you're like "what's wrong sweetheart?" and he's actually crying a little bit holding your hand like "woke up and you weren't next to me" and you have to hold onto the bedframe to stop yourself keeling over at how heart-aching that statement is before you say "i'm sorry, babe, i was just getting you some soup. give me 2 minutes and i'll bring it to you". and matty pouts and says "promise you'll only be gone for 2 minutes?" and you're like "yes, i promise" and he reluctantly lets you go and get it. and then when you come back he has the soup then he's like "can you just please stay and cuddle me for the rest of the day?" and you're like "ok. but if i get ill, healy..." and matty's like "if you get ill, i'll take care of you. i'll always take care of you" and then he falls asleep on you again, leaving you sitting there heart fluttering lol <3

[wordstome]

@kneelingshadowsalome thank you for indulging me on the hozier songs xoxo.

Melody-wise, if you liked Take Me To Church and Work Song, you'll like these songs, they're rock with gospel and folk influences. I'm going to list the songs who have lyrics that remind me of our favorite nasty Austrian man, but I really do recommend listening to all of Hozier's discography. Long post ahead!

Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene - lol of course I start with this one. This one is mostly about an unhealthy dependency on a woman akin to a drug addiction, but these lines are so König. Also this song just rules.

Feeling more human and hooked on her flesh I lay my heart down with the rest at her feet Fresh from the fields, all fetor and fertile It's bloody and raw, but I swear it is sweet

It Will Come Back - feral man becomes obsessed the moment you show him scraps of affection

You know better babe, you know better babe Than to smile at me, smile at me like that Than to hold me just, hold me just like that Don't let me in with no intention to keep me Jesus Christ, don't be kind to me Honey, don't feed me, I will come back

Cherry Wine - required listening for Hozier fans, such a beautiful song. Again, this one is also about an unhealthy relationship that I don't really associate with König, but these lines do remind me of Fatum Nos Iungebit

Her fight and fury is fiery, oh, but she loves Like sleep to the freezing Sweet and right and merciful, I'm all but washed In the tide of her breathing And it's worth it It's divine The way she shows me I'm hers and she's mine Open hand or closed fist would be fine The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine

Dinner & Diatribes - drawing comparisons between the act of eating and the act of loving, my beloved

Honey, this club here is stuck up Your friends are a fate that befell me I'd suffer Hell if you'd tell me What you'd do to me tonight

Sunlight -

A soul that's born in cold and rain Knows sunlight, sunlight, sunlight And at last can grant a name To a buried and burning flame As love and its decisive pain Oh, your love is sunlight

De Selby (Part 2) - this song just goes hard asf

What you're given, what you live in Darling, it finds a way to live in you And your heart, love, has such darkness I feel it in the corners of the room

Francesca - this song is really beautiful and longing, it's based on a story about a forbidden love where the couple was put to death. Also, "put me back in it" is most certainly referring to pussy.

My life was a storm since I was born How could I fear any hurricane? If someone asked me at the end I'd tell them, 'Put me back in it' Da-darlin', I would do it again If I could hold you for a minute

Special shoutout to the line "Heaven is not fit to house a love like you and I"

Who We Are - hehe the third chapter of Shrike is titled after this song. Bit of a spoiler, but without context, which is the best kind of spoiler >:)

I just held it tight So someone with your eyes Might come in time To hold me like water Or Christ, hold me like a knife

Butchered Tongue - also reminds me of Fatum Nos Iungebit

So far from home to have a stranger call you 'Darling' And have your guarded heart be lifted like a child up by the hand In some town that just means 'Home' to them With no translator left to sound A butchered tongue still singin' here above the ground

Unknown/Nth - this is a really bittersweet song reminiscing on a relationship that ended because he didn't truly know his partner. Again, I don't really associate the whole song with König, but these lines do remind me of Just Friends

Where a blinding light shone on you every night And either side of my sleep Where you were held frozen like an angel to me

Hozier also sings the last verse of this song so beautifully, it's like he captured the sensation of being at a concert and having the artist's voice so powerful in your ear. Required listening tbh

There are so, so many more songs I would recommend listening to, but these are the König highlights :3 Enjoy

[confessions-official]

i’ve tried to start crocheting recently and i CANNOT do a chain stitch. i just can’t. i’ve looked up multiple different ways, i’ve tried each of them many times but my hands are just. Not doing it right??? i am actually on the verge of a meltdown because What the Fuck i have spent an HOUR trying to do an allegedly easy thing. specifically it’s the yarning over thats fucking everything up for me. i am trying so so hard but i am ass at anything to do with coordination and i would like to have another body please. i would like a refund on my flesh suit or at least my brain because it’s really amazingly shitty at working like it’s supposed to. i am genuinely considering staying home sick from school for the rest of the week so i can keep trying to make this goddamn motherfucking chain stitch.

and i can’t talk to anyone about this or anything coordination-related that i struggle with because they’ll say “its fine, practice makes perfect, nobody gets it on their first try” and its like. okay but YOU are not experiencing this. YOU do not have to deal with being disabled even though 1) your disability isn’t recognized as a disability even though it is extremely fucking disabling which sucks because 2) i am diagnosed with this, i was diagnosed with it at a young age i will be dealing with this for the rest of my fucking life it impacts literally every facet of everything which makes it more infuriating that 3) mostly people don’t fucking know what it is. which makes it very tiring whenever i talk about it because i have to preface the conversation with an explanation of what it is. and whenever i’m explaining this to someone as a reason for why i can’t do a thing or will do badly at a thing they’ll be like “ok well you shouldnt let that impact you so much, stop using it as an excuse” because 4) most people do not consider it a physical disability. they just don’t! which is. kind of wild to me. because like. yeah the disorder that makes everything involving coordination 100 times more difficult DO interfere with my daily life, actually. nobody gets that. it’s not that i’m clumsy, my legs just don’t work like they should. i can’t even run for longer than a couple seconds without needing to lay down for a couple minutes.

my body doesn’t work right. thats it. thats the whole thing. it doesnt work how it should and that’s fucked up every single part of my life. “dyspraxic children may be more vulnerable to bullying and social rejection” YEAH NO SHIT! even as a kid in PE classes i could see everybody else doing things that my body just wouldn’t. i tried for years but i am simply not built for that. and of fucking course thats going to get you othered, rejected and bullied, which if it happens enough times will fuck up your social skills for A While. i’m not trying to mope around about it because i understand that it’s not that bad a disorder, it is disabling but other disabilities are more disabling and i can mostly pretend i don’t need any accommodations. thats fine. i can do that. its just that the fucking chain stitch made me realize “oh, fuck. i know why my life is like this.” and maybe i am having a very strong reaction about not being able to do a chain stitch but i don’t know. it was the straw that broke the camel’s back, i guess. like, i can’t do any sports or most art, i don’t have any friends, i don’t go out and do things and i can’t even do a fucking chain stitch? i can’t even do that? i probably will end up getting it in a while but idk. i just want to crochet, man. i don’t know why this is so difficult for me. i wish i wasn’t like this. i wish i was better. like, just in general i want to be better. i’ve tried but i can’t. i just want a body and brain that work how they’re supposed to. i don’t see why i have to work twice as hard as everyone for the same results. i know nothing in life is fair but jesus christ this is ridiculous. i’m very “sad, down on his luck protagonist who gets sucked into a whirlwind adventure” coded. i am. going to start crying

.