#all that research for these tiny fucking blurbs

[luckycharms1701]

Bay turtles getting a surprise bouquet of their favorite flowers for the first time? (Don’t ask how reader knows, they got that info from a certain rat)

whoops you tapped into an interest of mine and i just spent an hour and a half solidifying my headcanons for their favorite flowers

anyway this is amazing anon-chan i love love love flowers and giving them and these boys deserve so many flowers

(just so you know, these blurbs take place pre-relationship, but like barely)

Leonardo

You immediately resolve to do this as often as possible when you see the look on Leo's face. He reaches out and gently fingers one of the blood red petals of the dahlias you're offering him. "These for me?" His voice is wondering, causing an ache deep in your chest. You push them a bit closer to him with a soft smile.

His hand cups yours as he pulls them (and you) closer to him. He buries his face in the flowers for a moment. When he lifts his head, you are arrested by the intense expression on his face. In the same way he gently touched the dahlia petal, Leo gently touches your face, cups your cheek. "Thank you," he breathes.

Raphael

Raph huffs and squints at you suspiciously. "This some kinda joke?" You roll your eyes and push the pink irises into his plastron. When you go to let go of the bouquet, however, his hand comes up and traps yours with the flowers against him. He looks down at the flowers and breathes in deeply. You can't smell much from the delicate flowers, but you suppose that he can.

He looks back up at you and tilts his head, contemplative. Your lips twitch at how cute the motion is, and his gaze zeroes in on the movement. You feel Raph's fingers tighten around yours before he deliberately relaxes them. A rare bashful smile spreads across his face as he meets your eyes once more. "Thanks, doll."

Donatello

"Ah, celosia! These are my favorite! How did you know?" Donnie gives a pleased chirp as he studies the blooms you shove into his face.

You smirk as you press the bouquet into his hands. "Wouldn't you like to know."

He turns his chair around, gaze still on the flowers, and stands almost uncomfortably in your space. You hold your ground. His eyes flick up to yours, and a small, smug smile spreads across his face. He shuffles the tiniest bit closer to you. You gulp but continue to hold your ground. "Oh," Donnie begins in a low, silken voice, "I would like to know. And we both know that I will find out. Don't we?" He steps back and turns to look for a vase. "Thank you for the flowers," he throws over his shoulder towards your trembling form, "they're very nice!"

Michelangelo

Not even the stars in the sky can match the sparkle in Mikey's eyes. "You got these for me?" You grin as you present the marigolds to him with a little 'ta da!'. The both of you start to laugh as he picks you up and twirls you around, flowers and all. When he sets you down, your smile gets small and shy as you hand the marigolds to him.

He takes them reverently. Then he leans forward and kisses your cheek. He leans back, takes in your reaction, and kisses the other cheek, lingering just a little longer. When Mikey pulls back the second time, he hovers for just a moment over your lips before pulling back. You feel the hand that is not holding the flowers brush against your own. "Thank you sooooo much angel! Marigolds are my favorite!"

#tmnt #bayverse leo #bayverse raph #bayverse donnie #bayverse mikey #writing tag #you: aren't..... aren't donnie's and mikey's favorites just yorshie's tattoo flowers #me: yes #you: so you spent an hour and a half on.... #me: raph and leo. yes #look. listen. they're little shits. what do you expect #figuring out what the flower meaning should be was the easy part #but which flower has the exact interpretation that i'm looking for?? #none of them #i had to get as close as i could and i'm not happy about it #that's the hour and a half part #all that research for these tiny fucking blurbs #i'm sorry anon-chan i hope these are okay #....... #don't #don't ask about donnie #idk what happened there #i blacked out again #might've been thinking about amaranthine recently..... #gonna go eat something now hahaha

[skuhy]

kiribaku fic recommendations

-a (too long) collection of my all-time favourite kiribaku fanfics! :) (available on ao3!!)

-Artificial Affection by KiriBakuHappiness

chapters: 1/??

(unfinished)

Hello Bakugou-san, welcome to Karbon Copy!

Your new personal AI wellness companion is only [1 day old] but it’s already capable of changing your life. Kiri-bot will help you become a better you, and provide you with the support that you need whenever you need it most. Have you got goosebumps yet? We do too! Follow the personalized link to get started!

Katsuki stared at the generic, copy-paste, IOS-riddled template. He continued to flick his pen around restlessly between his calloused fingers while he read that carefully crafted marketing blurb over and over again before he finally straightened up in his seat and flipped open the cover of his brand new composition notebook.

Well… better get this shit over with.

-- OR --

After being forced to take a leave of absence from his research program at the Musutafu Artificial Intelligence Agency, AI-software engineer Bakugou Katsuki decides to bring his work home with him.

-Why Is Everything So Weird With the Lights Off? by KiriBakuHappiness (yes, again)

chapters: 1/1

Kirishima’s never really considered what Bakugou would be like when he was drunk and he’s kind of curious to find out but also a little apprehensive. This was still Lord Explosion Murder he was dealing with, after all.

Bakugou stops in the middle of the room, taking in all of the posters on the walls and eyeing suspiciously at the punching bag as if he’s never seen one before in his life. He sways a little before he frowns and squints dangerously. Kirishima tenses in preparation for some snarky remark about his inability to decorate, but all that comes out of Bakugou’s slurred mouth is, “This isn’t my fucking room.”

Wow, okay, maybe he’s a lot more drunk than Kirishima first thought.

--OR--

Kirishima can't imagine who would be trying to talk to him so late on a school night, but when he opens the door and finds Bakugou Katsuki drunk, he can't just turn him away, right? What kind of a friend would he be if he did that?

-Roses are red and they taste like shit by Unbreakable_Red_Riot

chapters: 6/6

Katsuki was really fucking sick of the smell of flowers.

-I wasn't looking for love (but then there you were) by dragontrappedinhumanskin

chapters: 1/1

Bakugo always fucking hated riding the subway every week, its crowded, loud and he's tired, but then he starts seeing the same redhead every time.

-- Katsuki blinked in disbelief. What the shit, he’s asking to play rock, paper, scissors. Is he fucking five years old? Who can be this stupid?! And he took his hand off the handle, does he want to fall?

Katsuki glared at him, but the redhead just smiled, and his eyes glint with a challenge, and before Katsuki can really think it through he’s taking his free hand and making a fist in front of himself.

The redhead’s smile turned less challenging and more cheerful, and Katsuki decided that this might not be that bad. He’s going to fucking crush him at rock, paper, scissors, even if it’s a stupid game.

-My Baby (Literally) by dragontrappedinhumanskin (yep, again)

chapters: 1/1

Bakugo gets turned into his five year old self.

__ He finally notices the blond fluffy hair, and with that anger, and the lack of Bakugo even though he’d been running errands with Aizawa as a chaperone. . . No fucking way.

-hummingbird boy by gumrude and liliumm

chapters: 1/1

Bakugou has dimples.

They’re not noticeable. Not by much, not with the way he scowls to hide them. But Kirishima still catches them, the first time he makes Bakugou crack a grin after he trips and fails a new stunt on his skateboard.

When Kirishima sees it—it’s a tiny dip in his cheeks, and one under his chin. They’re out in the sun, and small shadows tuck into his dimples charmingly. He’s grinning wide, boyish and rude and unhinged. He’s laughing, too, and the sound is brash.

Or; Kirishima learning what it really means to yearn.

-president of the krbk club by hiuythn

chapters: 1/1

Izuku watches, in a disbelieving and horrified sort of fascination, as Kirishima and Bakugou fall in love.

-disarm me by hiuythn (YES, again)

chapters: 2/2

Bakugou’s hands are made for winning.

They’re made to reach for victory, to grab what they want and refuse to let go.

Bakugou’s hands are not made for holding. They’re not made to cradle, or to help. His hands are calloused and rough. They are not meant to cherish, to be gentle, to be safe.

When he’s not using them to blast his opponents to dust, he keeps them sheathed in his pockets like the weapons they are. A gesture of goodwill—a handshake, from him, would be deadly. His hands are deadly.

And that’s how he likes it.

That is, until Kirishima.

-i can be needy (way too damn needy) by hiuythn (AND again)

chapters: 1/1

Standing on your own for so long has its drawbacks. Bakugou learns.

-ORBIT by hiuythn (...i like hiuythn)

chapters: 4/4

Bakugou is hit with a quirk that throws him through space and time—only to end up at Kirishima’s side every time.

-help me get out of my head by popcap

chapters: 1/1

“Don’t let go."

"Deal."

-to bury my love by armadil_Lo

chapters: 1/1

Bakugou Katsuki has been in love with Kirishima Eijirou for six years. And today, Kirishima is marrying somebody else.

-every little bit (helps the fire burn) by mintandmarmalade

chapters: 1/2

(unfinished)

Force is all Katsuki’s ever known. He’s never stopped fighting, and he has no intention of changing that now. It’s worked for him so far.

But the new guy lifts a rough, bandaged hand out of his pocket before answering; his eyes are bright, like he’s thrilled to get to take the mic. “Hey! I’m Kirishima,” he says, then locks eyes with Katsuki before flashing a grin full of huge, shark-like teeth. “Nice t’meet you guys!”

Oh, no.

There’s no fucking way this is happening.

Katsuki has spent his whole life trying to prove himself by beating down everyone who doubts him, whether they think he’s weak or because his bullshit Goddess of a mom won’t stop flinging love interests his way. That was the plan for his sixth summer at Camp Half Blood - never show weakness, even if the new Ares kid with the unwavering smile isn’t deterred by his walls.

Honestly, it's not going great.

-it's really good to hear your voice by mintandmarmalade (again)

chapters: 1/1

Kirishima Eijirou is happy - twenty-five years old, a rising pro hero, and living with his childhood best friend and long-term boyfriend, he has everything he could ask for. He’s happy. He has to be. This must be all he’s ever wanted.

Late one night, Eijirou gets a phone call from the one person who makes him wonder.

#kiribaku #kirishima eijirou #bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugo mha #pop rock #bakushima #mha bakugou #fanfic #archive of our own #fanfiction #ao3fic #ao3 fanfic #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #fic rec #go read this #fanfics #ao3 fic #bnha fanfiction

[callooopie]

₊ ⊹ // Dull Abstracts, Duller Hearts \\ Micolash, Host of the Nightmare

“How essential to me, you have become.” - Sackville-West to Woolf

What’s Micolash to do, when his academic rival comes to sit by him to comfort him?

—

a/n: Have never written fanfic, only read it. This is really just a blurb I had to get out of my head is all. And for the most deranged and unhinged Bloodborne character at that 😵‍💫. So this is nothing too crazy, enjoy?

Warnings: allusions to gore(ish), metaphorical masochism(??), rushed ending(☹️), written on phone(format might be ugly and idk how to format in general)

Word Count: unknown

It wasn’t your fault you got that scholar all worked up over nothing. Well- to you it was nothing, to him it was everything. Once again your work, your research, was praised and accolades were given to you by master Willem. And once again, Micolash is left in the academic dust.

You find the man skulking by the lake, glittering in the moonlight. Dirtied boots kick at the dirt as you walk over to him from the entrance of Byrgenwerth.

“Moping again?”

You call out as you walk.

“Hardly- actually I am not moping. Quite the opposite, on the contrary.. yada yada..”

He replies grumpily, throwing another pebble into the lake. A mere drop that ripples across the surface. Either he’s actually being sarcastic and funny, or he is fully trying to convince you he is not moping. Whatever his motives, he only serves to look like a child throwing a tantrum.

“Well. Wrong. I can tell you’re moping.”

You reply back with the tiniest bit of smugness, sitting down beside him on the banks of the lake. Leaning back against your hands, your eyes slowly settle on the lake.

You let the comfortable silence overtake you both like the waters of that moonlit lagoon. Perhaps you have nothing to say, or maybe you’re just waiting for Micolash to crack, to begrudgingly start to complain or vent or do anything to voice his frustration. What you’re doing is condescending, it’s annoying, it’s comforting. And maybe there’s a sick part inside of him that revels in this comfort you give him, even under the guise of academic rivalry.

Micolash scoffs at your words, but doesn’t say anything. He’s not upset at you; he can’t be. You’re not making fun of him, you’re actually doing quite the opposite. You and him could go back and forth like the ebb and flow of tides.

It’s a bothersome notion to him, that just like how ocean waves can’t push and pull without the moon; he can’t imagine his life without you. Now the scholar’s just being dumb and romantic about someone who sees him as a rival, someone to beat out in studies and scholarly research. How vexing he thinks to himself. It’s enough to make him nauseous.

“I’m just looking at the lake.”

Micolash grumbles with annoyance plain in his voice. If only he had a cigarette, and if only he didn’t give his last one to Laurence. Damnable prick.

You say nothing, merely flashing a tiny smile as you continue to stare out onto the lake. Your head falls back as you lean against your hands behind you, lounging with the cool breeze that comes off the waters.

“I actually quite liked your study.”

You admit nonchalantly into the air.

“Perhaps master Willem and the others simply didn’t understand it.”

You suggest coolly as you tilt your head side to side slowly in a meandering motion. A highly unlikely scenario, however the idea is oddly comforting to Micolash. As much as he dislikes said idea. Was it a rule now that academic papers had to be understandable??

“I did though.”

You add on after a beat of silence, finally turning to look at Micolash fully. That look of yours; so curious, understanding, sympathetic- fucking gentle; everything that Micolash believes he shouldn’t be looked at with.

Something in your words strike him. Or actually- your words do strike him. Hard. Like a lightning bolt, like Cupid’s arrow. Like a quicksilver bullet from a pistol, all in a good way of course. Oh, you understood his essay? Obviously you did, you’re smart, terribly and beautifully smart. But you complimented him..through his work- ..which technically still counts as a compliment to him.

Micolash feels as if he could throw up any second.

“.. you did?”

He asks quickly with that turned up half-grin. He’s trying to be normal about it. Trying to hide his emotions that are whirling around inside like storms.

“Of course I did. Although- it was more like ramblings than a thought-out and planned dissertation.”

You say, eyes shifting to look up at the stars that hung overhead.

“However it was ..beautifully written. Much better than Laurence’s dull abstracts and compositions on blood.”

It was.. a backhanded compliment for sure, you were known for those. But Micolash found himself wanting more of it. Gods, you could slap him around all you want. Backhand him with your words or your touch, either way he’d soak it up and give you his very soul in return.

Hell- you could even gouge out his eyes, crack open his chest like they did with cadavers and corpse heads. Bury your hands in him and search for anything and everything. Split him open on the table and peer inside him long enough to know that you infect every bone and cell and crevice.

However you do it, any touch you offer him is a prayer he’ll hold fast.

“Easy to understand hm?”

Is all Micolash hums in reply. Very normal.

“Oh yes... You know, ..-I like to think that we think alike.”

You comment with a beaming smile, moving your focus from the stars and lake to the scholar right next to you. Oh gods, Micolash is fearing this is going in a direction he isn’t sure he’s good at, stepping into territory he’s unfamiliar in.

He never did like the idea of courting, especially other scholars at Byrgenwerth. After all why go through something where he might get hurt? Where he’ll be made a fool of so easily? He’s strange, his reputation is least desirable. Workaholic, annoying voice (according to some- or most), uncanny at times. He can’t woo a man or woman to save his life.

Micolash could visit any lady of the night, pay the price for whatever bleak and quick pleasure he wanted. But to actively pursue you? An angel that’s out of his league some twenty thousand times? Out of the damn question and a fate that’s out of his hands and control.

“..Alike? We?- you and I…- ah- yes. We… do share similarities in our… thoughts.”

Terrible. He stammers like an idiot. Micolash wonders if he could just slip into the lake out of embarrassment. Surely you wouldn’t care right? Oh what does it matter. As he stares at the surface of the lake, watching it wrinkle faintly in the light of the moon. He likes the moonlight, he likes you in the moonlight. Is it possible to be as beautiful as a celestial body? Obviously it is, you exist. Ugh, he could just desperately grasp at you with need and want and yearning. Like the tides reaching up for the moon and heavens, he too would reach up toward you.

Perhaps you’ll never love him, or you’ll never know he loves you. Well.. what’s actually stopping him from outright confessing to you? From attempting some shoddy confession at least? Why can he not just look at you, open his mouth, and go I love.. I love, I love- please oh I love-

“You coming along back inside? It’s getting cold now- certainly don’t want you ill if you’re to best me at our next research proposals.”

You’re standing over him now, a gentle smile donned on your face as you wait for Micolash. Oh fuck, how long exactly was he just staring dead at the water with thoughts of you. Micolash blinks at you before briskly nodding awkwardly and standing up. The ever tall and lanky scholar dusting off his uniform as he looks at you, as normally as he can possibly muster.

He won’t confess and be made the fool. Not this time.

“Lead the way.”

#bloodborne micolash #micolash host of the nightmare #bloodborne x reader #micolash #Micolash x reader #soulsborne x reader #the uh girl is girling ig #this is embarrassing don’t read my writing skfjflgj

[spxllcxstxr]

Like a Rockstar • S.B

(GIF not mine)

Request: a blurb where fem reader puts on black eyeshadow/eyeliner on Sirius for the first time cause he wants to match with her 💘. I’m melting — anon

Summary: Sirius watches you put on eyeliner, and asks you a question

Warnings: makeup, Sirius being wary about wearing eyeliner, a tad bit suggestive at the end?, gn!reader I believe

Word Count: 467 (these are so short jkfhgiueh im sorry)

A.N: So…I’ve never worn makeup in my entire life lmao….I tried doing some research but who knows how accurate this eyeliner thing is gonna be fjnfjdj, hope you enjoy it anyway! Also this took me a long ass time to do, lmao kill me. Hope you enjoy!

****

Silently you pray to Merlin that your hand stays steady as you finally finish your eyeliner. A wobbly look was not what you were going for today, though you’re sure simply being in the Potions classroom would melt the makeup right off of your face. 

In the corner of your eye, you spot your boyfriend making faces in the mirror. If you weren’t so preoccupied, you would roll your eyes and snicker at his adorably childish behavior. 

You do notice, however, how his eyes follow your every move, watching you draw lines across your eyelids. 

His faces stop when you finally put the tiny bottle of eyeliner back on your desk. His grey eyes flick timidly between you and the eyeliner. 

“What’s wrong, Sirius?” You ask him, still looking at him through the mirror. “You’re uncharacteristically quiet.” 

“Would you rather me be screaming on the top of my lungs this morning?” He smirks.

“Don’t you bloody dare, Black,” You whip around to shoot him a sharp glare.

“Alright, alright, I won’t!” He laughs, hands in the air mimicking a surrender. 

You go back to finishing up in the mirror, not trying too hard, but definitely putting some effort into your look this morning. 

“That black bottle...” Sirius slowly starts from behind you. “That’s eyeliner, right?”

You glance back down. “Yeah, it’s what’s around my eyes right now. Want some?”

“Do I want some?” Sirius asks, slightly panicked. “But I’m a bloke--”

“So?” Once again you turn to face him, one eyebrow raised at his protest. Sirius was never one to care if something was “girly.” He wore skirts and painted his nails, for Merlin’s sake! 

“Are you telling me that Freddie Mercury and David Bowie aren’t blokes?” Your arms cross beneath your chest. “Because that’s news to me.” You continue, scoffing.

“Well...” Sirius bites his bottom lip in embarrassment, his great eyes widening to look like a scared puppy. 

“Listen,” you grab the eyeliner and make your way towards him. “I can put some of this on you, and you can look like a rock star, if you want to, of course.”

Settling your hand on his on top of your bed, you can feel him start to relax. 

“We could match.” You continue. “Like a pair of rock stars about to fuck some shite up on stage.” Smiling, you rub little circles across his skin.

“We’d look so hot, wouldn’t we, darling?” He drawls, his smirk appearing on his face again. 

“As long as I don’t fuck it up and do a rubbish job.” You chuckle, throwing your leg across his lap to get easier access to his face.

“At least buy me dinner, (Y/n)!”

Rolling your eyes you uncap the bottle of black eyeliner.

“Shut up and let me do your makeup, Black.”

“Yes, love.”

•

All Character Taglist:   @sexysirius @mullthingsoverinthehotwater @dreamcxtcherr​

Sirius Taglist: @quindolyn @fific7 @msmb

#the marauders #the marauders x reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black fluff #sirius black blurb

[blissfulparker]

A Work in progress→T.H

Parings: Tom Holland x Actress!reader

Summary: when You and Tom both have each other as a celebrity crush, you two unknowingly take on the role of each other’s lovers in a new movie and are expected to make it real. When the director puts the two of you in a house for the weekend to get to know each other there is little more to rehearsing than just your lines.

Warnings: awkwardness in the first half, smut(oral female), sexual tension

A/n: this is based off of a blurb I did, where it was just from a physical affection prompt list that I went off on! I hope you guys enjoy 💗

Wc: 4k

Tom didn’t know why he was so nervous as he opened the large glass doors to the conference building. His palms were sweaty as he walked alone rather than with his brother and assistant Harry.

He loved working on new projects, new films, meeting new people but the scare of not knowing the new people made him nervous. At this point he normally would be able to get some sort of name, do some research on said person but this time they gave him nothing but a script.

The script was more of a love story. a serious role but one where he could be more seductive and serious, he could let go of the goofy teenager character he seemed to be stuck with.

His character, Jack, who would be the corrupt business man who falls for the one trying to bring down his company, the main female protagonist, Beth.

The meeting started at 10:00. Always being early he seemed to see someone else was too. You stand in front of the coffee machine, trying to get it to work as you waited for the meeting to start—or at least people to come in.

“Oi let me help you with that—“ he offers but a small Yelp comes from your mouth as you quickly turn around and hit your head against the British accented stranger.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry! You scared me half to death—“ you hold your head as you look up, a wave of heat washes over your body and you don’t know if it was just because you hit your head hard enough or if it was because you finally figured out who you were working with.

“I should’ve said something else first, I’m so sorry—“ fuck. He thinks as he looks at you. You who managed to make a way onto the list of celebrities he wants to work with. You who also made it on the list of celebrities he wants to date.

The fans knew quickly he had a tiny crush on you. As he once liked a fan edit of the two of you on the read carpet. He seemed to be one of the firsts to like your Instagram photos and even mentioning your name in an interview saying how pretty you were.

You were the same, with smaller fame of course. You along with half of the other population who enjoyed marvel movies and dorky characters, you fell in love with the curly haired British boy. Finding him extremely talented and a heartthrob of course, you quickly dreamt about working with him but laughed about it never coming true.

Now he was in front of you. His chin red from where your head collided with it and he only stares at you in response.

The awkward silence quickly filled as the two of you tried and laugh off the interaction.

“Tom—“

“(Y/n)—“ you both say your names at the same time. Him going in for a handshake and you going in for an awkward hug. The two of you stop and laugh it off before deciding a simple handshake was the way to go. You had never wanted to quit your entire career more than now.

“Oh! Perfect!” Finally as the tension was cut the director walked into the room. Two people followed behind and you took a deep breath already nervous for the new film and exactly what Toms role was. As far as you read, the main female character, who you were to be playing, had to be in lingerie a few times in front of the main male character. There were also sex scenes, plenty of kiss scenes and sexual tension. You were fit for the character but you were not fit for Tom. All your fantasies about him were just fantasies.

“I see the two of you have already met. But If not, (y/n) meet Tom, Tom meet (y/n) you two will be working together for the next few months as I’m sure you are aware of your roles. (Y/n) will be playing the lover and spy where Tom you will be playing the businessman. I’m sure we already know our positions…” the director starts and you swallow hard.

Tom doesn’t know if you’re looking or not to see the pink shade coming to his cheeks and making him hot. You were just an actress, he thought, an actress who just had to play the role. He was an actor as well, he reminds himself. A very good one for the fact so he didn't want to mess this up all because of one silly crush.

“We want to put you two in a house together.” The director claps his hands together making you nearly spit out the coffee you had in front of you. Tom's head snaps to look at you as you cough a bit trying to digest the words.

“You want us to live together?” Tom speaks for you it seems.

“We only want to see your chemistry! The fans, the academy, loves chemistry! Trust me, people will love the movie but they will not care if they see just two other actors acting to be in love. Not really caring you know? We want to see you guys build a bond, passion, some sort of love even if you lie to us about it to make it believable. Run through your lines, skinny dip with each other for all we care we just want to see passion!” You feel like his words are turning into a dream as he speaks. You feel your heart pounding at his words and try your hardest to keep your calm.

“And where will we be going?” You finally find the strength to speak. If it was anyone else you would not care, reminding yourself you are a good actress and have acted like you wanted to fuck a man you hate. But this was a man you actually wanted to fuck, a man you actually wanted real passion with.

“We rented you two a flat in spain,” he mentions, right, where you’ll be shooting, you think. “It’s only three days and if you want more we will give you more if you don’t we will let you free. Every expense is paid for, go to dinner, have wine, everything will be on the film. This is both of your chances at big awards this year. This is for you and for us.” You could almost feel Toms body heat as he was just as nervous as you, you didn’t know why though. He was the heartthrob, he was the actor that was wanted left and right, this was your big chance at a movie that can skyrocket your career.

The next hour feels torturous as all you could think about was what this house looked like for the two of you. Did it have two rooms? Two bathrooms? Why did your head hit his chin? Is there a bump? What if he hates you? What if he’s secretly seeing someone and just doesn’t want to announce it? All thoughts ran through your head as you had to make this your best acting gig yet. Except the most acting might be pretending not to love Tom the way you do.

-

Three days. That’s all it was. You would spend three days in whatever this house looked like and all you would have to do is pretend to get to know Tom. All while trying not to expose how much you truly like him.

There were rumors he had a crush on you, of course you saw the interview and noticed how he liked your pictures but you also knew his co-stars from Spider-Man so your thoughts were friendly.

Taking an Uber to the destination, you pull up to this beautiful Italian cottage. Gorgeous stone walls and large driveway, If there was one emotion to be real about this entire thing, it would be that you were spoiled with this house.

You were already nervous as people started to catch on through social media, his fans seeming to know his constant move now quickly knowing yours.

‘Stars (y/n) (y/l/n) and Tom Holland possibly take on a new film with one another: here’s what we know’

‘Why is Tom in Italy?’ ‘Is (y/n) in Italy?’ ‘Rumor is they are filming together soon’

Your heart rushed with comments you had read. Maybe this wasn’t for you, maybe you should stay with doing small movies where you were a side character or something simple. Keep the small amount of followers you had compared to Toms 40 million.

As you go up to knock on the door wondering if he’s already beat you to the place, the door opens and reveals the sight of Tom.

Another Yelp escapes your lips as you jump at Tom opening the door so quickly.

“If we’re living together I think you should hold off on scaring me.” You take a deep breath. His hair was wet, he was fresh out of a shower.

“Sorry darling! They told me your flight landed at 2:00 and well...it’s 2:00 so you aren’t supposed to be here until like 3:00.” He claims and you take a deep breath. Three days, you remind yourself, don’t mess it up.

“Oh…” you swallow.

“Not that I didn’t want to see you! It’s nice to see you again, you look really nice!” He says as you wear the sweats and the sweatshirt from the airport. “Let me help you with those.” He grabs your bags for you and you smile letting him take it. He leans in just close enough for you to smell the aftershave he put on, his muscles flex as he grabs your bags making this all the harder for you.

The night was young, fans already knew, this was your shot at making it big, Tom's shot of winning an Oscar, you two needed to work together. Pushing aside the worried one sided emotion and be able to make a movie that blows people away

“Have you ever done anything like this before?” You asked as you walked into the kitchen. It was now late, you were starving, you and Tom already getting to know each other but it was strange.

“No, I mean the most I’ve done for a chemistry read is take the person out to dinner.” He laughs a little and then runs a hand through his hair. “Speaking of dinner...should we grab something or make something. Unless you had plans of your own then that’s totally fine—“ he starts to ramble and you laugh.

“I cannot cook, so unless you can I prefer to pick something up.” You cut him off to make sure he doesn’t go on and on.

“Have you ever pizza from Italy before?” He asks and you lean against the counter.

“I’ve never been in Italy before.” You shrugged and he grew a smirk. He turns on his heels as if he already has an idea.

“Then I know a place.” He walks out of the room to grab his phone.

You feel your heart pounding as you check your phone. You made a mistake by opening your Twitter, 10k new followers, 50k mentions and plenty more all regarding Tom. You only hoped he wasn’t the type to use Twitter as it was flooded with people wanting you guys to be together.

Your mind swarms with the thought of your character again. Soon you’d have to stand in front of your celebrity crush, half naked, trying to seduce him. It was going to be more awkward if you guys were friends.

“Are you coming?” He calls out and you quickly shove your phone in your back pocket before grabbing your purse to go.

Three days and you feel like you’re already going to snap.

-

It was a lovely little place he brought you to. You didn’t know If he’d come to Italy often but he clearly knew a decent way around the city. The two of you sat in the corner of a dimly lit Italian restaurant, sharing pizza and feeling more comfortable with each other as the night went on. He was just another person, you thought, nothing to worry about.

“We didn’t order any wine.” You stop the server as he pours both you and Tom a glass. Tom already drunk off of the beer he had and you only enjoying his presence.

“Ah it’s on the house, such a lovely couple in such a lovely city! You two should have fun!” The server winks. You almost protest to stop him telling him that you and Tom were nearly just coworkers stuck in a house for three days.

But rather Tom thanks the server and takes the glass. Your heart pounding as you pick up the glass as well, the boys eyes already red from how much he’s had already and you can tell you have to take him home.

“You know I was nervous to be working with you.” He took a sip before setting it down. “When I saw you I was like ‘shit this is happening’ and freaked out.” He admitted and you try to hold back the butterflies in your stomach.

“You freaked out for working with me?” You swallowed and he nodded.

“Well look at you, you’re gorgeous! Anyone would be lucky to work with you, as your lover as well.” He falls back into the booth and stares at the décor on the ceiling.

“So you read all the scenes?” You ask and he nodded.

“Of course i did! I only improve when I feel like it.” He shrugs, taking another sip.

“You said you’re method too.” You remember from one interview you watched years ago. Your voice was more of a whisper, more to yourself but he grows a soft smirk as he turns his head to face you.

“So you watched my interviews.” He says feeling cocky. You roll your eyes taking another sip of wine yourself to hopefully drown out the embarrassment you just gave yourself.

“As if I don’t see you being the first to like my posts, Holland.” You avoid eye contact and rather look around the room but Tom only focuses on you.

When you catch his eyes they’re sober, this whole time he was telling stories in a drunken state and now he looks at you with glossy soft eyes as if he wants to hear more.

“So you see me liking your posts?” He teases and you finally look at him.

“I see everyone liking my posts. Why do you follow me?” You challenge and he holds back a smirk.

“You’re friends with Z, why do you follow me?” He asks back and you feel yourself straighten.

“Z is friends with a lot of people, I don’t see you following all of them?” You argue and he falls back into the booth again with a soft chuckle.

“So not only do you follow me but you stalk me?” He teases and you groan.

“Not what I meant.” You see how much wine you have left, not a lot as your nerves filled you and the wine didn’t calm you. “You liked a fan edit of us a year ago. We’ve never met until a few days ago.” You rest your head on your hand that props itself up against the table. That’s what makes him lose his game, he turns a light shade of red before quickly straightening himself up.

“You’re talented, why don’t we see more of you?” He asks about your roles.

“You’re about to see everything in a few days.” You mumble and he chokes on his wine.

Page 281

*Beth removes her robe in front of Jack, slowly stalking towards him wearing the tight black lingerie* *she crawls on top of his sleepy figure and points a gun*

It was embarrassing that such a scene turned him on after finding out who it was with. After finding out it was you, he read over every single sex scene, strip scene, makeout scene to make sure everything was real.

“Oh relax.” You hold back a smile. “You’re the Method actor, remember?” You tease. He leans forward, he’s not sure how he’s gotten so confident but he takes your glass and drinks from it before setting it down.

“Yeah, I am. We should rehearse some things, get more comfortable.” He suggests and you look at him up and down. His lips slightly stained reddish pink from the wine, his skin damp from how hot the room was, and he looked at you as if no one else was in the room.

“And where should we start?” You swallow, you can’t get shy now. You’ve dreamt about this moment and now it’s happening.

“Well, if we’re starting with their meeting, I think it would go something like this.” He leans in and places a soft kiss on your neck. You’re frozen as his lips are soft and warm, he pulls back and realizes what he’s done. His thoughts of you, his crush on you, the warm alcohol that ran through his blood all while being in Italy got the best of him.

“I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done—“ he started and you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to kiss lips. His eyes go wide softly as if he was a school boy getting his first kiss.

“More wine?” The waiter comes back and Tom snaps out of it for a split second.

“We’ll take the check.”

-

Your hands tangled in with his messy hair, his shirt already off as he was warm from the summer heat Italy provided. His lips trail down from your lips to your neck as he plays with the strings of the summer dress you wore.

“I can’t believe this is happening.” His words mumbled into your chest as he lets the shoulders of your dress fall.

“Why? You want to admit you have a crush on me now?” you teased and when he looks up his eyes are darker. The sweet chocolate puppy dog eyes before now darkened as his lips were swollen and his face was hot. His hands rest at your hips with a tight grip as he wants more.

“You admitted to stalking my interviews and who i follow so i should be asking you that question.” he teased and you rolled your eyes. Your Only respond by pushing his head back into your chest where he planted soft kisses trailing down.

“So soft,” he takes off the bra you wore. Hes thought about this moment but would never admit it. Hes thought about how soft your skin is and how you looked under his touch with his head in between your legs—

“Do something tom.” you groan as he is on his knees for you. Your dress bunched at your waist, all exposed for him as he takes off the black lace underwear you wore under the dress.

“All for me?” he asks and your head hits the back of the wall, your hands go to his hair and he kisses gently at your thigh. “Say something, darling.” darling, you think about the way he says that word. The simple nickname that made you melt. Darling, that was going to be the death of you.

“Y-yes!” you find the words. “I-I don’t think this is apart of the script though.” You still try and be playful and just below your eyes you can see he has a playful and cocky smirk.

“This,” his thumb rubs at your clit as he looks up. His lips cherry red and his smirk is full view to you as he sees your eyes flutter shut as your head was thrown back. “This is where I improve.” he replaces his thumb with his tongue as he pumps his middle finger in and out of you. Your hands grip his hair as you moan his name, his name that you thought of so many times before this in your dreams.

Your knees go weak as his one hand pins your hips against the wall and his other fingers thrusted in and out of you while his tongue works at your clit.

“Tommy!” The nickname slipped, you didn’t mean it but you imagined it sometimes long before you met him and just had a crush.

“Huh darling? Like that? Want to cum?” His words horse and his accent thicker. “That’s right...” he almost laughs as he can see how much you’re whimpering. “Cum for me.”

You fall under his touch with soft moans leaving your lips. The wave of euphoria washes over you and you struggle to open back up your eyes and come back to reality.

He comes back up to face you, this time you have a thin layer of sweat over your forehead and your chest rises as you catch your breath. You take Tom's fingers and take them into your mouth. Acting as if it were him in your mouth you work your tongue around his finger before taking them out with a pop.

His eyes stare and he almost winces at how hard he is. How hard you've made him.

“This is going to be the best damn movie i've ever filmed.” he nearly whispers as you bite down on your lip before pulling him back into your lips.

This was going to be the best six months of your life.

Permanent Taglist: @hoodiesparker @dahliaspidey​ @parkersvibes​ @itssss-a-bean @ppkrtingle @myfinalwords​ @bocaul @tinyplanet-explorers​ @sincerlyfan @softbaby-Tom @awesomeblackcottontail @rosebeegraham @stormyholland @unicorn-princess-1999​ @spideyyypeter​ @marshyrebelcloud​ @oh-epiphany​ @yeahimcrying @highlydisfunctional1 @disgustangg​ @pterstingle @quacksonhq​ @saturnpeter​@reblogsfics​ @tomsrebeleyebrow @dreamyyholland​ @imaginashawnns​ @alilpunkrock​ @peterspideysenses​ @lovely-valllll​ @lowkey-holland​ @hannaholland1811 @kthemarsian​ @maryjane23 @jillianaholland @dummiesshort​ @paracutepants @heartofholland​ @quacksonhehe @tomhollandssecurityguard​ @th0ttie4tommy​ @ladykxxx08​ @bellelittleoff​ @peterbenjiparker​ @cherthegoddess​ @namoreno @sunsetholland​ @lillatina004 @peterparkersbabygurl​ @augstdowny@a-daydreamers-day​ @spideyspeaches​

#tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #imagine tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland au #tom holland x you #Tom Holland fic #Tom Holland fan fic #tom holland fan fiction #Tom holland au #Tom Holland angst

[thenukacolachallenge]

Calli blurbs~(since she seems to be popular rn lmao):

-she loves to prank people. She constantly sneaks up on Coco, who jumps EVERY SINGLE TIME without fail. Calli thinks it’s hilarious. Coco is so done with her little sister’s shit. Coco also does the Mom Thing when she gets scared by Calli(”*tiny gasp!* you scared me~”)

-she also uses her barrier powers to block doors just to fuck with people. Poor Kung Lao has walked headfirst into an invisible barrier many times. Calli is usually hiding nearby, trying not to burst into laughter. she especially likes to fuck with him bc of how cocky he is.

-she bakes as a stress-reliever. during finals week, everyone she knew was gifted an influx of brownies, cookies, cupcakes and the like. she likes to make it from scratch if she can, but she’s not opposed to using boxed mixes, though she will substitute any oil with real melted butter, as well as adding extra flavorings(a small bit of espresso powder to chocolates, some vanilla extract and a hint of fresh nutmeg to vanilla stuff, etc).

-she’s trying to learn ukulele! she’s not very good yet, but gosh darn it she tries.

-she loves to draw and she’s quite good at it. she carries around two journals at all times: one is her compendium of the history of the different realms, and the other is one of many doodling journals she’s filled up over the years. if she’s in an unfamiliar situation and she’s not comfortable, she’ll absorb herself in her art journal, doodling things around her as a way to calm her brain.

-she’s done a LOT of Ninja Mime art. like, A LOT. she refuses to talk about any of it to Johnny or Cassie Cage. she’s too scared/nervous.

-pretty much any time she meets someone she’s read about in her research, she gets super starstruck. the first time she ever met Kitana she couldn’t form proper sentences. she’s just, so cool...

-as much as she loves Coco, the secrecy that Coco surrounds herself with drives a huge wedge between the two. Coco thinks that she’s protecting Calli by keeping her away from Tanaka Industries and the darker shit she does for a living, but Calli a) usually finds out about it anyways, both bc she’s incredibly nosy AND their adoptive brother Sascha also works there, and b) Coco thinks Calli will respect her less, but that’s not the case at all.

-she is lowkey vine/tiktok famous, but for really weird memelord shit. like, just the absolute weirdest, most bonkers unhinged content you can imagine. stuff like this.

-she gives the best hugs, although most of the MK roster would have to lean down significantly OR pick her up to experience them. so liddol.

-she has no idea what she’s going to do for a living now that she’s out of school. there’s not really a huge market for people who research history of the different realms, but that’s really all she’s interested in. she’s very thankful for Coco and Izzy helping her live. she eventually gets a part-time job at a bookstore, but it still isn’t a living.

-her morning routine is almost always the same(unless she’s completely consumed by her anxiety): some light stretching and working out, a shower, and a walk to her favorite local coffeeshop. she knows all the baristas and they love her bc she’s nice, she leaves great tips, and she’s not afraid to call out another customer for being a jerk. she usually goes to the library after finishing her drink.

#OC: Callisto Nova #there's more i meant to write but my brain is a sieve and i've forgotten #mk calli

[vostara]

hypnophobia — 03

drei — wherever you bite, black scabs grow

pairing: ares x original female character (beatrix)

blurb: “You should be focusing your attention on me.”

word count: 6.2k+

title inspiration: tarantulas - akira the don, jordan peterson

A quick, special shoutout to my friend Tati for proofreading this chapter for me. Thank you for listening to me cry for a week straight about how much editing needed to get done for this piece lol.

Please read the author’s notes at the end of this chapter! It contains important information regarding a specific aspect explored in this chapter.

This work is cross-posted on AO3.

... | 02 | 03 | 04 | … series masterlist

Beatrix had left the bar, confident that she would be seeing the return of her lipstick in just a couple of days. But each evening, when she approached the front desk of the Continental, she was told that she had not received any mail. And as each day drew to a close, Eli’s patience with her was falling at a steady, but rapid, decline.

During one of their meetings, secluded in the privacy of his hotel room, Eli had backhanded Beatrix across the face. He had yelled at her. He had screamed that she was wasting not only the client’s time, but his time, as well.

What the fuck are you doing?

Beatrix had uttered a simple, I’m handling it, in response.

Eli had not responded favorably to those words. He had snaked his fingers into her hair and tugged at the roots so hard that Beatrix released a small gasp of pain.

Don’t fuck this up, he hissed into her ears.

But as the clock shifts from 11:59pm into 12:00am, Beatrix enters her sixth day awaiting a response from Santino D’Antonio.

She had planted her seed, hadn’t she?

Left a bait that should be too tempting to ignore.

And yet, she had heard absolutely nothing.

It shouldn’t take this long. It had never taken this long before. People were always a little too quick to jump on opportunities of extreme convenience.

But not Santino.

Has he rejected her proposal? Did she actually fuck up this time? Misread his signals?

But he must know that she would be doing him a favor, eliminating Angelo. It would be easy for him to avoid the blame. She would take the fall and no one would even bat an eyelash in Santino’s direction.

Beatrix needed Santino to be squirming in his seat, impatient for the bliss that will arrive after this thorn is finally plucked out of his skin. She needed him to be ready to have this trigger pulled, to have this headache relieved before it has a chance to bloom.

What had she done wrong? What had she left out? Why was he—

A phone rings, pulling Beatrix away from her thoughts.

The woman blinks.

She lifts her head off the back of the plush gray armchair and shifts her eyes away from the popcorn texturing of the white ceiling. Beatrix focuses her stare in the direction of the bedside table, almost entranced by the constant ringing from the hotel’s black phone. The alarm clock sitting beside it displays a glaring red 12:27am.

After the fourth ring, the woman stands up and approaches the phone. She holds it up to her ear. “Hello,” she answers.

“Good evening, Miss Amsler,” a woman responds. “I am so terribly sorry to disturb you in the middle of the night. However, there is a gentleman here and he insists that he must speak with you immediately.”

Beatrix sighs and rolls back her shoulders. “Could you tell me that man’s name?”

A momentary pause of silence.

Finally, a response. “Santino D’Antonio.”

“Tell him that I will be with him shortly,” Beatrix smiles, “and that I will meet him at the bar.”

“Of course, Miss Amsler. Do have a good evening.” The woman hangs up.

Beatrix places the phone back in its proper position and glances at the open doors of her closet.

~ ~ ~

Dressed in a black pant suit that is trimmed with navy edges, a pair of white high heels, and a fresh spritz of perfume, Beatrix approaches the bar just ten minutes after the phone call. At this time of the night, the bar is far from crowded, but there are several lingering patrons. All of whom are focused on individually squashing away their sorrows with sips of fine brandy or shots of smooth vodka.

Upon entering the bar, her eyes dart straight to Santino. The man is sitting at a small table in the center of the room. His fingers circle around the edge of his glass, which contains an untouched serving of bourbon.

Beatrix flicks her gaze away from Santino, to focus on the table behind him. Ares is occupying the space. Her legs are crossed and her left arm is pulled back slightly behind her, resting on top of the chair. Her right hand is placed on the table, allowing her fingers to repeatedly tap against the dark wood.

Her eyes are focused on Beatrix, analyzing every tiny detail. She notes the woman’s breathing patterns. The way her eyes take a sweeping glance to gauge the room. She notices how Beatrix’s first reaction is to ignore Santino, rather than approach him.

The assassin walks towards the bartender and orders herself a glass of Riesling wine.

After he places the requested glass in front of her, she pulls a gold coin out of her pocket and sets it on the bar. Beatrix smiles at the man and wraps her fingers around the stem of the glass. She steps away from the bar and heads directly to Santino’s table.

The man raises his head as she approaches, locking himself in unwavering eye contact.

Beatrix remains quiet, as she pulls out a chair and takes a seat across from the man. She brings the wine glass to her lips and takes a long sip, before placing it on the table.

The corners of her lips are curled downward, marking her face with open confusion. “When I told you to send me the lipstick,” she begins, “I assumed you would understand my hint of discretion.”

Santino lifts his own glass, and takes his first sip of the bourbon.

“Instead,” Beatrix continues, “you choose to come here in the middle of the night. A location crowded with people that are guaranteed to recognize you. And some of those people are likely to recognize me. Does any piece of this scenario indicate a discrete means of contact, Mr. D’Antonio?”

The Camorra man reaches into the right pocket of his navy dress slacks. He pulls out a familiar tube of lipstick and places it in the center of the table. “Beatrix Amsler,” he says, “it is surprisingly difficult to track down any information about you. Your known resume is barely five years old.”

So that had been the reason for delay. A background check.

“You’ve been researching me,” she states. Beatrix picks up the lipstick with her right hand and twirls it between her fingers.

Santino reaches across the table and wraps his fingers around the top of the woman’s left hand. He gently turns it over, exposing the inside of her wrist to him. His eyes dart down towards the area, focusing solely on the black ink that is etched into her skin. A delicate rose, no larger than a half-dollar coin, is tattooed. In the bottom right petal, an “L” blemishes the simplicity.

“I was under the impression that Lilith didn’t allow her girls to seek out their own contracts,” Santino muses.

Beatrix tries to maintain her composure, but she isn’t able to stop her body from instinctively tensing up. She raises her eyes to look at Santino and attempts to ignore the knots forming in her stomach.

“Lilith also cheats her girls out of proper compensation for their work,” she says.

Santino responds with a soft chuckle. “I don’t imagine your boss would be too pleased to hear those words, no?”

Beatrix lowers her gaze back down to her wrist, distracted by the thumb rubbing against her skin. “Do you plan on ratting me out?”

The man shrugs and ignores her question. “Where is your handler?”

Beatrix does not respond.

“I’ve heard that they tend to keep a very close eye on their girls,” Santino continues. “Should I be expecting extra company tonight?”

The woman blinks and then pulls her wrist out of the man’s fingers. “You should be focusing your attention on me.”

“Is he watching?” Santino questions.

“He’s preoccupied.”

Santino retracts his hand back onto his side of the table. He picks up his glass for another sip and then leans back in his seat. “You’ve arranged a distraction?”

“Are you here for business?” Beatrix questions, with a tilt of her head. “I told you that I was interested in your money.”

“You did,” the man agrees.

“Yet, it seems that you’ve only called me here to sate your curiosity.”

Santino leans back towards the woman, pressing an elbow on the table. “Why take the risk?” He asks, after a prolonged silence.

“You’re much more inquisitive than I anticipated,” Beatrix says.

“Lilith despises me.” The man narrows his eyes. “But here you are, pursuing the man that she hates the most.”

“You flatter yourself,” the woman remarks.

Santino’s lip twitches, irritation bleeding through his calm facade. “How do you think she will feel about you, once she finds out?”

“Does it matter?” Beatrix lifts her glass and swirls the liquid inside.

The man quirks an eyebrow, confused.

“I am the one making this decision,” the woman elaborates. “I am the one choosing to help the enemy of the person who keeps me wrapped, oh so tightly, between their fingers.” She stops briefly, to take a sip of her wine. “Life is just boring, without a little risk involved.”

“Are you really this desperate?” Santino rests his glass on the table and inches his body closer to the woman. “Are you truly so bored that you would risk doing something so profoundly stupid?”

The assassin leans forward and laughs in the man’s face. “Do you really care, Santino?”

He pauses, mulling over his response. “Lilith will do more than kill you,” he says. “She will torment you, ruin you, if she finds out.”

“Is that not where the excitement originates from?” The woman’s eyes sparkle with amusement. “The possibility of if? If I get caught, I’ll certainly be terminated,” she pauses, “in a more permanent manner. But if I don’t get caught, I’ve got quite the little secret hidden in my resume.”

Santino takes a moment to ponder her response. He then raises a hand and snaps his fingers.

Movement behind the man causes Beatrix to dart her eyes away from him. She focuses on Ares, whom had risen from her seat. The woman approaches the table and positions herself next to her boss.

“I need Angelo to disappear,” Santino states, “within the next two days.”

Beatrix glances back at the man. “And the price on his head?”

“That depends.”

“Oh?” The woman raises an eyebrow.

From the corner of her eye, she watches as Ares reaches into the pockets of her dark charcoal colored trousers. When she pulls out her hands, her fingers are wrapped around a couple of knives. The very same ones that she had taken from Beatrix, the night they had met. Ares sets the items gently on the table, right in front of the assassin.

“I see that your loyalty to Lilith is,” Santino pauses, “thin, but will the chord be completely snapped?”

Beatrix reaches forward, brushing her fingers against the handles of her beloved weapons. “Do you wish to break it?” She wonders.

The man sighs. “I won’t deny the truth. There is a certain… convenience in having an outsider perform the tasks that neither I, nor the Camorra as a whole, can be associated with. Should you complete this request, I can provide you with more lucrative opportunities.”

The woman smirks. “You’re turning Angelo into a job interview.”

“An employer should always confirm if one’s skills are up to par.”

Beatrix raises her glass of wine and then brings it to her lips. Throwing her head back, she drinks the remaining Riesling. After setting down the glass, she wraps her fingers around her knives, and slips them into her pockets. She rises from the table and, while staring down at Santino, she says, “I look forward to continued employment, Mr. D’Antonio.”

~ ~ ~

Approximately twenty-four hours later, Beatrix is perched on the same stool she had occupied at this bar, just a week prior. With a glass of Pinot Noir gripped in her left hand, her eyes are glued on her target for the evening.

Angelo Ricci.

A man who refuses to blend in with the shadows.

A man who boasts about his status, who flaunts his wealth. The moment he had entered the bar, Beatrix had focused her attention solely on the man. He had waltzed in, dressed in a maroon three-piece suit, a matching tie, and a collection of chunky silver rings decorating his long fingers. He had strolled by her, failing to notice the assassin, and proceeded directly to his reserved booth. Within moments, he was showered with the finest liquor and several women in skimpy outfits.

As the night progressed, the man had grown more disheveled. Brunette hair, that was once pulled up in a neat bun, had escaped from its place to hang loosely around his face. Shot after shot of smooth tequila had warmed his skin and introduced a red flush to his cheeks. His jacket and tie had been discarded, allowing one of his playthings to unbutton his black shirt and expose the artwork inked on his chest. When Angelo had rolled up his sleeves, a smug smile plastered on his face, the women had thrown themselves all over him, cooing at the newly revealed tattoos.

It doesn’t take long for Angelo to notice the woman observing him. When the blonde beside him plants her lips on his neck to place open-mouthed kisses, Angelo makes a point of meeting Beatrix’s stare. A cocky grin sewn on his lips, he winks at her and lifts his fingers to send a small wave.

And even though the blonde’s hands have traveled beneath the table to slide up the man’s leg, Beatrix maintains her pointed gaze. She brings her glass of red wine to her lips and takes a long sip of the liquid.

Angelo chuckles and shoves the woman away from him. He leans back in his seat, laughing, and shoos everyone out of his booth. The man turns to look at one of his guards and gestures for them to approach the table.

The guard leans down towards Angelo. After the boss shouts something into his ear, the guard nods his head and turns his attention to Beatrix.

The woman sighs and chugs the rest of the wine, as the guard draws near. She places her glass on the counter, before giving him her full attention. “Does Angelo wish to play?”

The guard’s expression remains stoic, unamused. “Mr. Ricci would like to speak with you,” he says.

Beatrix hums. She stands up from her seat and brushes by the guard, walking towards the booth.

When the woman is within hearing distance, Angelo exclaims, “My dear sweet Beatrix!”

“Angelo,” Beatrix responds, with a slight tilt of her head.

The man raises his arms and drapes them beside him, across the tops of the booth. “Come on, baby, relax. Have a seat.” He nods at the empty space on his left side. “It’s been awhile since you’ve spent time in this city.”

Beatrix slides into the booth, sitting just close enough for Angelo’s left hand to brush against her right shoulder. “I was here last week,” she pouts, “but you ignored me.”

“Really?” He enquires. “Not sure how I could have missed you.”

“You were probably too busy,” the woman shrugs, “being a prick.”

Angelo grins. “You’re still upset with me.”

A pause, then, “I’m disappointed.”

“Babe, it’s been, what, five years?”

Beatrix places her forearms on the table and leans into them. “Four years and seven months, actually.”

“You counting the days, too?”

The woman blinks. “Thirteen.”

Angelo smirks and lowers his fingers, rubbing them against the woman’s shoulder. “You are definitely still pissed.”

Beatrix responds with silence.

“Why are you so upset, huh?” The man frowns. “It was all just business, right? You? Me? All of those fun nights between the sheets? Everything was a fucking business transaction.”

The woman turns her head to glare at him. “You fucking shot me.”

“Oh, baby,” Angelo smiles again. “But you’re still alive, ain’t you? Still fucking breathing and shit. Life must feel fantastic, compared to the alternative.”

“Yeah, fantastic.” Beatrix rolls her eyes and shifts her gaze away from him.

One of the bartenders approaches the booth. In one hand, he holds a bottle of champagne. In the other, he carries two glass flutes. Carefully, the man places the glasses on the table. A moment later, he pops the cork off of the bottle and pours the liquid into the flutes. With a nod of his head, the bartender places the bottle on the table, before making a brisk walk back to the bar.

Angelo lifts his arms from the booth and reaches for the glasses. He slides one of them towards Beatrix.

The woman hesitates, and then reaches out for it.

“I mean, it’s gotta be, right? Must be full of some wild fucking shit, if it’s got you waltzing right back into Romano territory.” The man smiles and raises his glass for a toast. “That was one of the hottest things about you. You did whatever you fucking wanted to, babe. Just bat those pretty lashes of yours and you’ve got everyone wrapped around your tiny fucking fingers.”

“It worked on you,” Beatrix comments.

“Might have worked a little too well.” Angelo takes a sip of champagne.

“Not well enough, considering the bullets you sent my direction.”

Angelo shrugs, brushing off her comment. “I missed your vital organs,” he responds.

Beatrix shifts her eyes towards the man. As she raises her own glass to her lips, she notes that Angelo’s eyes are focused on her wrist tattoo.

“Lilith’s rose is untouched,” he says. “You still one of her girls?”

“I think you already know the answer.”

The man gives a slight nod of his head. “I’m surprised the bitch hasn’t killed you, yet.”

Beatrix chuckles and sets her glass on the table. “It’s just a matter of time, really.”

Angelo wraps his hand around the woman’s right arm and tugs her towards him. Using his free hand, he reaches for her and tucks soft strands of her hair behind an ear. The motion exposes a large sapphire gemstone, dangling from a delicate gold chain. “Eli still has you chained up,” he mutters.

The woman inches closer to Angelo, briefly brushing her nose against his. “I doubt that anyone else would want to take me.”

Angelo shakes his head. “Baby, they want you. They just don’t want to start a war that they can’t win. Everyone knows you’re his favorite.”

Beatrix hums.

Angelo presses his hand against her throat, gently grasping onto the soft skin. “Does he know that you’re here?”

Silence. The woman’s eyes shift away from him.

But he’s persistent. “Then what are you doing here?”

Beatrix closes her eyes and sighs into his touch. “Visiting an old fling,” she says.

His grip against her neck tightens. “I’d hardly consider us a fling. You were nothing more than a whore, pretending to love me. I may not have paid you for those countless nights in my bed, but someone else was.”

The woman releases a soft gasp and wraps her hand around the man’s wrist. When he loosens his grip, she says, “Many of those nights were of my own choice. I wasn’t being paid for all of the fun we had.”

“Is that why Eli hates me so much?”

Beatrix smiles. “No, he just thinks you’re an arrogant son-of-a-bitch.”

The man chuckles and pulls his hand away from her. “Beatrix, you didn’t come all the way to Chicago, just to see me, the man who shot you.”

“I was told to leave New York for a little while,” she says.

“How long have you been here?”

“Since the end of October.”

“Clearly,” Angelo scoffs, “you weren’t really missing me that much. Not if it took you nearly two months to get on the damn train.”

“I was,” Beatrix pauses, “seeing someone.”

The man leans back against the booth. “For work or pleasure?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she says. “Things didn’t really work out.”

Angelo takes a sip of champagne, examining the woman. “What did you do?”

Beatrix takes the glass away from the man and sets it on the table. She slides herself closer to him and leans in to whisper into his ear. “I shoved a knife straight into his pathetic beating heart.”

“Are you here to kill me?” He grins.

Beatrix moves her hand, resting it against the man’s thigh. “Do you want to find out?”

~ ~ ~

Before the door of the apartment is able to slam shut, Angelo is busy shoving the heavy black coat off of the woman in his arms. His hands dig themselves into her waist, before snaking behind her to tug at the zipper of her ruby dress. The straps slide off of her shoulders and the material descends to the floor. With a hand against her chest, Angelo slams the woman against the black wall. He smiles, as he leans down to capture her already swollen pink lips with his own.

Beatrix slides her hands up the man’s torso, fingers fumbling as she attempts to unbutton his shirt. She sighs into the bruising kiss, and for a single moment, she is able to forgive Angelo for his retaliation against her. The bliss of his lust clouds her memories of the excruciating pain she suffered. Clouds the memories of when the doctor had shoved his tools into her stomach, rushing to dig out the bullet lodged within. She forgets how she had cried until her throat was raw. How even though tears had blurred her vision, she could still see and feel the utter disappointment radiating from Lilith. And how Lilith had ignored the woman's screamed apologies for her failure, ignored her pleas for the anesthesia, that the pain would kill her, that she couldn’t take it anymore, help me please, help—

Angelo pulls his lips away from her, opting to dig his teeth into the crook of her neck.

The woman releases a surprised gasp and melds her body into his. Hoping to accelerate the pace, she rips open his shirt. The remaining buttons scatter across the floor, creating a mess that goes ignored by the distracted couple.

Succumbing to his impatience, Angelo wraps his hands against the back of the woman’s thighs, and lifts her up.

Beatrix responds by instinctively wrapping her legs around his waist. She tugs at his hair tie, releasing his long strands from the messy bun. Fingers bury themselves into his hair, desperately clinging onto whatever they can.

Angelo moans into another heated kiss and proceeds to stumble his way down the dark hallway. When he enters the bedroom, he tosses her onto the black sheets of the king-sized bed. He stops to unbuckle his belt and then climbs on top of her. His mouth dives right back to the side of her neck, determined to leave dark bruises that will linger for days.

Beatrix opens her eyes, taking this opportunity to examine Angelo’s new home. Unlike his previous apartment, this upgrade lacks the charming chaos of his mis-matched furniture and scratched oak floorboards. The current decor is sleek, modern, all black. His dark walnut flooring is spotless. The apartment feels empty, void of any distinctive personality. The black walls are bare of decorations. No pictures. No posters. No fancy tapestries. It feels too perfect, too much like a model home. There is nothing reminiscent of the Angelo she had once known, of the Angelo she had pretended to fall in love with.

Angelo’s hand presses against her bare stomach. As he moves to grip onto her waist, his thumb brushes against a scar he’d never felt before. He pauses and pulls away from her slightly. Holding himself above her, his fingers trace against the edges of the blemished skin. A permanent reminder of what transpired between two false lovers.

Beatrix reaches for the man’s hand and tentatively wraps her fingers around it. She brings it up towards her face, drawing his gaze upwards to meet hers. “I think we should put this on pause,” she says, “just for a few moments.”

“I’m sorry—” he begins.

“No,” Beatrix interrupts, “don’t say it.”

Angelo removes himself from the woman and lays down beside her. Together, the couple stare at the eerily smooth black ceiling. It’s devoid of the cracks, the scuff marks, and the water stains that had permeated his previous bedroom.

After a several minutes pass, Beatrix sits up and crawls to the edge of the bed. “Where’s the bathroom?” She asks, placing her feet on the floor. She leans down to release the buckles that confine her feet inside of the black heels.

Angelo runs a hand through his hair, smoothing the disheveled strands. “Turn right, second door on the left.”

“Thanks.” Beatrix settles her bare feet on the cold floor and lifts herself off of the bed. As instructed, she turns right when she enters the hallway and follows the dark path. Her eyes focus on a large door at the end of the hallway. Three locks are turned to keep the door shut in place.

A back entrance.

When she enters the bathroom, she quietly shuts and locks the door. She reaches towards the sink and turns on the tap for cold water. Taking a moment to compose herself, Beatrix takes a deep breathe, traps the air inside of her lungs, and then releases it. She presses her hands onto the black marble countertop and stares at her reflection in the mirror. She needs to breathe. Needs to calm down. Needs to focus on the task, the mission.

Zwei.

Sieben.

She inhales.

Eins.

Zwei.

And exhales.

Zwei.

Null.

Null.

Vier.

During the course of their seven month arrangement, she had examined Angelo’s every move. Beneath his mask of unyielding confidence, resides a budding cluster of paranoia. The man kept a hidden weapon in each room of his home. Weapons that were discrete, but quick and easy to grasp in an emergency. Unless his habits had changed in their years apart, Angelo had a self-defense mechanism somewhere in this room.

Beatrix reaches for the medicine cabinet and pulls it open. Aside from one electric razor and a couple bottles of medicine, it’s empty. She pulls open the top drawer beneath the counter. A tube of toothpaste and a nail clipper. The drawer beneath it also holds nothing useful. She crouches down on the ground and opens the cabinet beneath the sink. Leaning down, she peeks her head inside and scans the top surface of the area.

Just beneath the sink, near the pipes, is an object. It is held securely in place with a couple pieces of tape. She reaches forward, pressing her fingers against it, and feels the cool metallic edge of a blade. Grasping it firmly, she pulls the knife out of its hiding spot. Beatrix rips the tape off, fully exposing the small, but useful weapon.

A knock on the door captures the woman’s attention and she quietly closes the cabinet doors.

“You okay?” Angelo calls.

“Yeah,” she responds, “I’ll be out in a minute.” Beatrix stands from her crouched position and shuts off the tap. Tightening her hold on the weapon, she angles her hand so it is tucked behind her. Certain that the knife is hidden from Angelo’s immediate view, she reaches forward to unlock the door. She wraps her fingers around the doorknob and twists it open.

The door rushes towards her, smacking her in the face. She stumbles backwards and lifts a hand to check her nose for blood.

“What the fuck?” She screams.

But a body barrels its way straight at her. Long fingers wrap themselves around her throat, constricting the air flowing into her lungs. She opens her eyes and she’s confronted by the face of an irritated Angelo. The woman wraps a hand around his wrist, digging her nails into his flesh.

“Babe,” he hisses, “you’re not as fucking unpredictable as you wish to be.” Without easing his grip, the man shoves her back, until she’s pressed against the cold tiles of the wall.

Beatrix lifts her knife, ready to dig it into his jugular. As she swings the knife at him, Angelo wraps his fingers around her wrist and slams it against the space beside her head. She releases her grip on his wrist and shoves her hand into Angelo’s face, attempting to push the man as far away from her as she possibly can. Then she lifts her right leg and slams her knee straight into his groin.

The man’s grip loosens momentarily, but it’s enough of an opportunity for Beatrix to force her body off of the wall. She slams herself into Angelo and he stumbles backwards. When his body collides with the countertop of the sink, Beatrix buries her knife into his left shoulder.

Angelo releases a pained grunt.

Quickly, the woman pulls the knife out of his flesh and moves to stab him once again.

He twists his body, catching her wrist with his right hand. When she looses her balance, Angelo slips away from her reach and forces her body to bend over the countertop. Gripping her hair, he slams her head against the mirror. He pulls her head away from the broken glass and tilts her back until she is staring up at him.

She turns the knife in her hand, repositioning it. But right as she moves to stab Angelo in the face, the man slams her head back into the mirror. Dazed, the knife slips out of her fingers and falls onto the counter.

“Damn,” Angelo wraps his arms around her waist, lifting her off of the ground. “I was really hoping I could get laid first.” He throws her body into the oversized bathtub, before climbing inside.

“What—” Her eyes are blurry and she feels as though the world is spinning too fast. “What are you doing?” She mutters.

Angelo reaches forward, plugging the drain, and then turns the faucet to release the freezing water. “You once told me how you wanted to die,” he says. “That you didn’t want it to be quick, that you didn’t want to experience a death with no suffering. That—”

“I wanted to feel every moment, every emotion, in this once in a lifetime opportunity,” Beatrix finishes. “You remember.” The water creeps towards her and when it grazes the skin of her throbbing skull, it causes a chill to run down her spin.

“Because it’s the only truth about you that I know.”

Beatrix releases a soft chuckle in response.

“What are you doing here?” Angelo asks.

The woman’s smile fades.

“You here for revenge?”

A thin layer of water inches forward, quickly coating the bottom of the tub. Beatrix shivers and goosebumps appear on pale skin. But the chill of icy temperatures helps clear the blurriness clouding her vision. “I didn’t realize you thought I was a petty person,” she says.

A moment of realization erupts on the man’s face. “You’re working.”

“I’d say it’s more a job interview.”

Angelo leans down, reducing the space between them. “With who?”

The woman’s gaze drifts away from his face, in favor of examining the tattoos that cover his body. When they had first met, his collection was small. Just a few random pieces, placed separately apart on his chest and abdomen. But now his torso was painted with ink, tiny splotches of bare skin bleeding through.

Her eyes linger on one piece in particular.

Simple lettering.

Her name.

“Are you going to kill me?” She wonders.

Could he do it?

Would he fulfill those orders he had failed to complete once before? Would he stop her beating heart? Take away the air trapped within her lungs?

He presses his hand against her throat, but not with aggression. Angelo frowns, as his thumb brushes against her jawline. He opens his mouth, but his words don’t escape. Instead, he lifts her head out of the water, and crashes his lips against her own.

Beatrix tangles her right hand into his hair and grips the edge of the bathtub with her left. With Angelo’s help, she lifts the rest of her upper body out of the water. When he pulls his lips away from her, she opens her eyes and brushes her nose against his.

“Angelo,” she whispers with a smile. She tightens her grip on the tub. And using the object as leverage, she uses her right hand to crash the side of Angelo’s head into the tile wall.

He releases his hold on the woman, instinct forcing him to lift his hands to check his head for bleeding.

Beatrix shoves the man, using his distraction as an opportunity to pull herself away from him. Her hands grip onto the right side of the bathtub, allowing her to pull her body out of the space. She presses her feet against the side of the tub walls and uses it to hurl her body over the edge. The woman releases a pained gasp when her back slams against the black marble, but she forces herself to flip onto her stomach. She props up her body on her hands and knees, and takes a moment to breathe, before staggering up onto her feet.

Before Angelo is able to fully comprehend what has happened, Beatrix digs her fingers into his scalp. She pulls his head towards her and then, with all of the strength she can muster, she slams it back into the wall again, and again.

Angelo groans and slumps down into the tub.

Blood coats the walls, sliding its way down towards the water.

Beatrix untangles her fingers and takes a few shaky steps backwards, until her body hits the doorframe. After giving herself a moment to regain her composure, she exits the bathroom and makes her way back to the bedroom. The woman heads straight for the bedside table and pulls the drawer open.

As expected, there’s a gun tucked inside. Beatrix picks up the semi-automatic pistol and makes sure that it’s loaded and ready to shoot. With the gun poised in front of her, she exits the bedroom and reenters the bathroom.

Angelo’s hand is gripping the edge of the bathtub, as he attempts, but fails, to pull himself out of the water. His blood is smeared all over his face, and when he notices Beatrix, an amused smile taints his lips. “I should have fucking killed you,” he says.

“Probably,” Beatrix responds. She fires the gun, lodging a bullet into the chest. Automatically, she repositions the weapon, and sends a shot right into the center of his head.

The man’s body collapses.

Without a moment to spare, Beatrix sets the gun on the counter. She sprints down the hall, towards the main entrance. Spotting a chair in the kitchen, she grabs it and shoves it underneath the handle of the door. The woman twists both of the locks, ensuring that the door is secured in place.

Picking up her discarded dress, she slips back into the material. While pulling up the zipper, she is interrupted by loud pounding against the front door. Beatrix freezes, taking a moment to assess the situation. A voice shouts for Angelo, followed by more fists banging against the door. There’s more than one person outside.

Beatrix glides her arms into her coat and then snatches her purse up from the floor. Racing down the hall, she makes a quick stop in the bedroom, to pick up her shoes, before heading back to Angelo’s body.

She steps around the pooling blood and reaches for the man’s right hand. Beatrix pries off one of his rings, a large silver signet, with a lion’s head etched into the metal. A gift from the head of the Romano family. After placing the ring inside of her purse, she slips the high heels onto her feet and tightens the straps at her ankles.

By the time she steps back into the hallway, the shouting and the pounding of the door has increased in urgency. Quickly, she proceeds down the hallway and unlocks the back door. She slips outside before Angelo’s men ever enter the apartment.

The winter air coats her damp hair with a layer of ice, causing Beatrix to shiver and pull the coat tighter around her body. Her wet stockings become stiff, introducing her legs to the inconvenience of painful chills and the beginning embers of numbness. She fights through the discomfort as she descends the backstairs, heels clattering against the wooden steps.

During her last few steps, she glances at the street. A black car is parked on the other side. Beatrix can see the outline of a person sitting inside. And though she can’t make out any of their facial details, she can sense that they are watching her, studying her every move.

Beatrix pauses at the bottom of the stairs. She reaches into her purse and her fingers grip onto the handle of a pocket knife. She tucks her armed hand into the pocket of her coat, before approaching the car.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading this chapter! Just to throw this out there, in case anyone is curious, I will not be exploring or truly addressing Beatrix and Angelo’s previous relationship. That particular relationship is irrelevant to current events. Though I do want to assure you that Lilith and all that jazz is going to receive further development, which should hopefully provide enough context clues to figure out how Bee got involved with Angelo.

If you happen to be curious about Beatrix and Angelo, you can go ahead and shoot me a message and I’ll be happy to answer any questions you have!

Once again, thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter, it would really help me out if you could reblog, like, and/or send me a message letting me know! 

If you would like to be informed when future updates are posted, send me a message and I’ll personally send you a message every time a chapter is posted! :)

The writer’s notes for this chapter will be posted tomorrow, May 24th. You can check out the notes for the previous chapter right here.

anticipated release date for chapter 4 is June 6th.

#john wick fic #ares john wick #ares fic #ares x reader #ares x original character #ares x original female character #ruby rose #ruby rose fic #ruby rose x original character #ruby rose x original female character #film: john wick #john wick #v.writing #fic: hypnophobia #vostara #releasing wayyyyyyy earlier than usual bc #ahhh just felt like it lol #series: she drowns in liquid gold

[mrsragucci]

John Wick taking a bullet for you. 🤷‍♀️ (it's a simple one but I've never seen it around.)

You walking to work was one of the most satisfying things you did in the morning. The law firm wasn’t too far away, maybe 15 minutes away from home, but you honestly loved to walk. Having the fresh morning air breeze threw your face was just so comforting and so relaxing.

You we’re pretty successful in the job area. You were a lawyer whom has handle some pretty big cases. Although being a criminal lawyer had a shit load of stress that comes with it. You did enjoy it for the most part.

You had the corner office, which was the one that everyone seemed to want. You on the other hand didn’t like it so much. Of course you were grateful, but at the very same time. You knew yourself, the damn office would get messy pretty quickly. I mean of course you would clean it up. But still, you miss the tiny cubicle. Less space.

You were sitting in your office, writing away, until it hit you that it was way pass time for anyone to still be at work. It didn’t really matter that much to you, but it was still kinda weird. Working in an absolutely empty building. Okay maybe not absolutely empty. The janitors are probably still here.

As you wrote, you hear a gun shot. A bulletin goes threw the window and hits right directly into your laptop, which was literally inches away from you.

You quickly got up and looked behind you, you didn’t see anyone. But that didn’t change your mind about leaving the damn office.

The only issue however is that you couldn’t just leave all these papers and information out. They were supposed to be between you and your client. So you tried to grab as many as you could before leaving. The person who shot you hasn’t done it again, so you were able to get the papers.

As you were about to leave however, a man in a dark suit, and layed back hair barged into your office and started to shoot the threw your window many times. Creating the whole glass window to fall down. While he was shooting. You ran out the back.

You didn’t know who he was, and quite frankly didn’t want to know.

“Stop.” He said, and you did not stop. You kept on running until he tackled you to the floor. You tried to fight back, but quite frankly he was stronger.

He dragged you by the leg into the one-person- only-bathroom. That creeped you the fuck out, and you started to kick and move your legs even more, to weaken his grip of them.

He looked the door behind him. And took a deep breath before turning to you. “Look, we’re going to need to work together on this one.” You didn’t look at him. You sat in the corner of the bathroom and spoke. “My lawyers will be in contact with you.”

“You know I’m trying to help you right now. I just need to communicate with you. I just need you too corporate with me.”

While you didn’t want to just change your mind within a second, you did somewhat believe him. I mean you shouldn’t, but you did.

“Alright. What do you want to talk about.” You said, finally.

“Your ex husband, his name is “John Wick, correct.”

“Look what ever drug issues John got himself into, I don’t want apart of it. I did everything for him, and he still chose those cocaine over me. His issues is no longer my problems.” You didn’t want anything to do with your ex. So if he hired a hit man out of pure pettiness, that would be the lowest of the lowest shit that he’s pulled.

“No. Listen. My name is also John Wick. A group of people who want to kill me, thinks that you are in fact my ex wife. Because my wife died, and I essentially have no one “loved one” they decided to find a former “lover.” They think that I married you, but then got divorced. So-“

“They’re trying to kill me. That’s pretty stupid of them. Like if we got “divorced” right, obviously there is no feelings left between us. So it shouldn’t matter that much that they would try to murder me. I mean in your eyes. Of course it would be sad, but nothing to get super pissed about. Also how dumb can those people be. Like if they did just a did a bit more research they’d know that my ex husband and you were to completely different people.” You huffed out.

“Yeah well, obviously they are not the brightest. It doesn’t change the fact that they aren’t going to stop trying to murder you.” He explained.

“Well if I can prove to them they got the wrong gal then-“

“They’ll think your lying.” You furrowed your brows. “It’s easier for them to believe that your my ex wife. It would be harder for them to accept the fact that they got the wrong person. It wouldn’t do to well to their ego. Even if they did realize it themselves, they’d still kill you. You’ve seen their world, and they wouldn’t want you to tell anyone.” John explained even further.

“Then if they won’t believe the truth. Might as well play along with their lies.” You responded. Turning over to look at him.

John internally smiled. He liked this chick.

“You have an extra gun?” You asked. John smirked and tossed it over. “I need to grab my papers before we leave however. Those are important information.” You told him.

“Do you even know how to handle a gun. You seemed pretty fragile earlier.” It was your turn to smirk.

“Don’t underestimate me.” You turned off to open the door. You saw the papers instantly. You went directly at them but then you saw someone, they were creeping from the corner. Before you could react by shooting at them first. They shot first and John pulled you back. Leaving him to take the bullet.

When the other person was stunned. You shot right at them. A bullet directly through the head.

“You fucking idiot.” You said m.

“Don’t worry, I-I...shit... have a bullet proof vest underneath.”

“Doesn’t change the fact it’s going to hurt like hell. Come one get up we need to leave. Like right now.”

“Did you just kill him, first shot?” John asked. Slightly stunned.

“You’re not the only one that is retired Jardani.”

A/N: So this blurb was supposed to be a lot more shorter but uhhh....idk it ended up like this. Soooo, yeah. @celestiaelisia I hope you like it. Cause I had fun writing this.

#john wick x reader #john wick imagine #john wick #john wick fanfic #keanu reeves x reader #john wick x you

[sunflowerstache]

I just watched Luke James doing buzzfeed’s thirst tweets... it’s hilarious but I couldn’t stop thinking about harry doing his own. His narcissistic ass would love it could you write something (even a blurb is fine I just desperately need to read something) about that

omg I love this!!! Imagine his fucking smirk reading all of those hahahahah it would be insane!

But I think he wouldn’t be the one out of the relationship to do an interview like that, if we were going to pick! He’s a very particular man with what kind of interviews he does and how to promos himself, and I don’t see him doing an interview like that one and I wouldn’t really know how to articulate him well enough to write that, as badly as I would want to! Tiny however........ abso fucking lutely. Reading thirst tweets about her boyfriend/baby daddy? Reading thirst tweets about her and her boyfriend/baby daddy? YES PLEASE!! I will be writing a blurb about this as soon as possible and I’m very excited about it now and have to do loads of research and get amazing thirst tweets hahahahahaha THANK YOU FOR THIS😍😍😍

come chat with me about Another World!

#awask

[its-all-about-harrystyles]

Made With Love (7) // Harry Styles - Gender Reveal

Hello!!

Thank you to everyone that messaged me and helped me with the research on this whole story, the help honestly meant everything to me. I am grateful that you shared and trusted me with the stories and information on your own pregnancies <3

If you want to share any blurbs etc. about dad!Harry then please do share them, I would love to read your ideas and concepts!

/ Made With Love Masterlist / Blurbs Or Concepts / Requests /

–

Warnings: 

Word Count: 1907

–

Your family and closest friends were all gathered in the living room of your home, all excited to have the gender of the little baby revealed at last.

Y/N and Harry had been placing bets as soon as the bump began to grow, he thought it was a girl, he said that Y/Ns stomach was so tiny that there must be a precious small girl in there. however Y/N thought the opposite, she thought it was a boy, she didn't know why she just did.

She begins the walk down the stairs, holding the rail as she holds her lower stomach for support.

She was always scared that something would happen to her small unborn baby, her instincts were to protect them from everything and one.

”Are You ok my love, you look pale?” Harry asks, holding his hand out for y/n to take at the bottom step. She smiles at him and squeezes his hand gently,

She was grateful for him, he was so good to her and so protective that she sometimes wanted to cry. He has always been like this, constantly worrying and checking on her, but since they found out they were pregnant, its like his instincts heightened, like he was on high alert as well.

”I’m fine H, just feeling tired” Y/N admits, her mouth opening to yawn as if on Que.

”Well people won't be here late, then we can snuggle on the sofa and eat leftover cake” He chuckles, pressing his lips to her temple.

”I'm so nervous” Y/N admits, clutching onto Harry's hand as if he would disappear.

”Why? We're finally finding out our little one's gender, we can plan the nursery then” He smiles, his eyes lingering on her face.

She looked so pale, her eyes sunken in slightly. Of course, she still looked beautiful, her skin radiating slightly from pregnancy, but Harry couldn’t stop himself from being worried, he knew she was struggling slightly, she just hid it really well.

As they entered into the kitchen everyone clapped, smiling at her and Harry. She smiled back, her heart beginning to race as she pushed herself into his side.

She could feel the uneasy feeling travelling, the anxiety consuming her as he breathing became rushed.

”I need to leave” she chokes to Harry, instantly grabbing his attention. He turns her away from them and tells the guests to go ahead and enjoy the party without them for a while.

He leads her body into the living room, shutting the door behind them. The noise is quiet now, everyone out there unable to see or hear her as she breaks into tears.

”I’m so sorry, I'll be ok I just needed a minute” She croaks, her tears soaking her lips.

Harry looks at her and breaks, pulling her body into his. His arms wrap around her securely, his hands rubbing her back soothingly. He whispers ’Shhhh’ into her hair, pressing kisses onto her head occasionally in an attempt to calm her down. He knew she would get overwhelmed, so he had prepared for this in advance, but seeing her like this, it always broke his heart.

“We just have to think about everything good and exciting that's going to happen today love, then it will just be us” He coo’s, holding her protectively to his chest. Her bump presses firmly against his stomach and he smiles, knowing that his little baby is in there, safe and protected from the world.

“Sorry H, I’m just feeling so emotional today” She croaks, wiping at the corners of her eyes with her thumb.

She felt so stupid, crying over absolutely nothing. Her friends and family were here to support her, to show their love and excitement for the small bundle of joy that they were bringing into the world, and here she was, stood in the arms of her husband, crying.

“My mother text” Y/N whispers, causing Harry's body to still.

“And, what does she want?” He asks, staring down at her. The crying made sense to him now, the tension being emitted from her checking the boxes.

“She doesn’t want any more contact with me, she doesn’t care or want to know about the baby. And that's me putting it politely” She croaks, the pain evident in her voice as she tries to control the tears once more.

He lets out a slow breath and kisses her, holding her face in his hands.

“We don't need her love, we’ve never needed her or them. Its always been us, together, against this world. I swear to you, I will love and protect you for a lifetime, I will provide you with the love that they never gave you. It's just you and me baby, and that's all we need” He whispers, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“You mean you, me and baby” She giggles, holding her stomach. He smiles at her, thankful to see the small smile light up her face.

“The three of us, together, always”

--

Y/N and Harry stand at the top of the steps, the balloons in there hands blowing violently in the wind. They were about to reveal the gender of their baby, and they couldn’t be any more excited, or nervous than what they were right now.

“Ok, so on the count of three pop to balloon” Anne shouts, her hands clasping tightly together as she watches you both. You smile and hold your bump with your free hand, watching Harry prepare to pop the balloon.

“Ok, are you ready?” Anne asks, smiling.

Y/N and Harry both look to each other, their smiles wide.

Y/N and Harry had been waiting for this moment since she had fallen pregnant, and now that it was here, they both weren’t quite sure how to handle it. Y/N felt nervous, anxious and a little high. Of course, she wasn’t, but the energy that Harry was emitting was electrifying, almost making her feel like she was floating.

“1..2..3″

Y/N squeals as Harry's hand comes up to the balloon in slow motion, her breath halting as the loud pop echos. Everything stills as they both watch the coloured powder fall, Y/Ns hands come up to cover her face as Harry wraps his arms around her, tears of happiness falling down their cheeks,

They can hear the excited chatter between their friends and family but they ignore it, basking in the energy that was lingering between them. It felt real now that they knew. They could create a nursery and finalise the name, and it made it all the more special. 

“It's real, it's not a joke?” Y/N cries, looking up to Harry. He looks back at her, his cheek stained from his tears and smiles, shaking his head.

“It's real” He laughs, holding her face.

“So, he’s in here, our baby” She smiles, holding her bump and looking down. Harry nods and places his hand over hers, 

“He’s really in there” He nods, smiling at her.

“Our little boy” Harry smiles, leaning down to kiss Y/N’s stomach.

--

“How's my boy doing?” Harry shouts as he walks through the door. You hear the shuffle of his feet as he walks into the lounge, throwing himself down beside Y/N with a smile.

“Hello love, How are you?” Y/N asks sarcastically, slapping his hand as he rubs at her stomach.

“Sorry love, how have you been?” He asks, leaning his head against her arm. She pokes her tongue out and turns back to the television, her mug of tea resting in her free hand against the sofa arm. 

“I’ve been ok, a little uncomfortable. I managed to do some work thou, Gucci wants you in for a fitting” She replies, sipping the tea from her mug with a smile.

“Good, and ok, are you going to come with me, sort out the details?” He asks, reaching to take her mug and sip from it. She scowls at him, watching his face wrinkle up as he hands her back the mug.

“That's sweet”

“Baby wanted sugar” She shrugs, rubbing her belly.

“I suppose he gets what he wants” Harry laughs, staring to the empty cake tin sat on the coffee table.

“Did you finish the carrot cake?” He asks, his mouth hanging open. She smiles at him, licking her lips in a teasing manner.

“And it was delicious, I was meant to text you earlier to stop at the bakery and grab a new one but, I fell asleep” She giggles, fluttering her eyelids up at him. He growls at her, leaning his head back. She takes this as an advantage to snuggle into his side, inhaling his scent.

“How was the studio, write a song about me?” She asks, feeling his hand sneak up her top. He rubs her lower back, taking his time to reply.

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t, you’ll have to wait and see” He smirks, wriggling his eyebrows at her. 

“Hmm, I still need you to release a studio version of Medicine you know, that's my jam and I need to dance” She looks up at him, pouting her lips out for him to poke.

“Lots of people want a studio version of Medicine, but they will just have to wait....I may do it, I may not....we will see” He shrugs causing her to huff in annoyance.

“Honestly, you should sing it to me, me and baby need to have a dance party”

“We can have a naked dance party”

“When you release Medicine”

“Tease”

“Ass”

They look at each other, holding in their laughter as their eyes linger. He leans down and presses his lips to hers, holding her close as their lips move in sync. She smiles into the kiss, melting completely into him as he takes charge.

His hand roam up to hold her waist beneath her shirt, his fingers tickling her skin as he runs his finger over her belly. He leans back and smiles, throwing his head back with a groan.

“Its evil that we can’t fuck for another week”

She laughs and hits him, seeing the bulge beneath his beige coloured trousers. She would always notice these things, especially when they happened on stage. Of course, she knew the adrenaline and excitement made him hard, she knew from the way he rushed her to his dressing room and took her clothes off how hard he was throughout the show. 

“My poor baby hasn’t had sex in almost 3 weeks” She giggles, 

“I mean don’t get me wrong the blow jobs have been great, but it's not the same” He growls, his lips twitching into a smirk.

“Horny bastard, focus on your music” She slaps, leaning back onto the sofa

“It's hard when you’ve got a massive hard-on because your thinking about your wife” He laughs, throwing his head back.

Y/N stares at him and laughs, holding her stomach as it consumes her.

“What, I the last thing I see before I leave is you naked, hot and soapy in the shower, it leaves my mind running wild for the rest of the day” He exclaims, laughing as he squeezes his knees. 

“Maybe I should wait until you leave to take a shower” She shrugs, teasing him.

“Don’t take that away from me” He warns,

“Or what?” She asks, raising an eyebrow

“I don’t know, I’ll punish you somehow” He replies, pushing himself off the sofa.

“Now how about a bubble bath”

--

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles soft

[mamashitty]

Dear Sirena

Character: Hamilton B. Jefferson Playby: Hugh Dancy Thread: Characters & Characters & Characters Ship: Sirham — in friendship now. Brief mention of Gavilton. Post/One Shot: One Shot...ish? Date Posted: 8.19.2018 Blurb: Ham received a letter from his ex, Sirena, in the middle of the night. Oh, their relationship is long and complicated. Anyway, they have a lot of history. She can’t sleep. It is August, a rough month for them both. This is Hamilton’s reply to her.

It was nearly midnight when Hamilton’s box glowed. Ever since the attack on the Cerulean House, Hamilton had had a difficult time sleeping. He was in his own apartment for the evening, Gavin being out of the country on work. Hamilton had half the mind to sneak into Gavin’s place even without his husband being there because he slept better in Gavin’s bed than he did in the bed of his new apartment. His temporary apartment. He missed the Cerulean House. He missed the noises the old place made, the creaks in the boards as Washington explored the house at night, as Billings or Leslie moved about. He missed sleeping in a library—the smell of the books—and the fact if his mind was restless he had access to more books than he could name or count. His apartment, nice was it was, felt a little sterile to him. It was only temporary lodgings, a place to stay while the Cerulean House was repaired and newer, better wards, placed on it. He would have much rather not be renting this apartment and just living with Gav, but there would have been questions.

Having a secret marriage was the pits sometimes(see: all the time), especially lately, with the state of mind he was in ever since the attack on the Cerulean House. His brother and Billings had survived, but a part of Hamilton felt forever changed. More changed than the attacks on himself or the kidnapping. Something about almost losing his brother, of possibly even almost losing Gavin because Gavin had been there that night, of the thought of Billings or Leslie or even Lexa getting hurt or worse. The thoughts and worries played in his mind constantly and really the only time he got decent sleep was when Gavin was with him, arms around him. Or his arms around Gavin. He stared at the box. He always kept it somewhere he could see, and in this new apartment, it was at his new desk. A piece of furniture he was renting, something that lacked all the character and history of the desk in his library bedroom. No other Presidents had sat at this desk, and he realized his thoughts were petulant at best. He moved to his desk and took a seat. He removed the letter from Sirena. It was August. The Month of Lincoln, on top of the shit from the summer, no wonder he could not sleep. So he read, and reached for his own notebook and a pen because he knew would reply as soon as he finished reading. He could tell from the way the words looked on the page that Sirena was upset, he did not even need the clue of the tear spots. He could read it in her writing. He and Sirena, they had been writing to each other since Sirena was fourteen and Ham sixteen, he knew the sweep of her letters. He knew how to read excitement in them and despair. He could read in the strokes when she was trying to be brave and when she was angry. She had a peculiar way that she wrote certain letters, ways he had tried to replicate when they were younger and he never managed to quite match them. Sirena, he could tell before he even read the words, was a mess. And his heart went out to her because… August was hard. Sirena, I am awake. Ever since the attack on the Cerulean House, I have not been able to sleep as well as I once would. I am alone tonight which makes sleep even harder to come by, and it is August. We both know what August means. I wish you were sleeping, it is no longer late where you are at, but quite soundly morning. Three days (or as I write this reply is it really four?) without sleep, Sirena… you can’t do that to yourself, to your body. It will give out one day. I know, I know. If you could sleep—you would. I am going to stop lecturing you. Are the potions no longer working for you? Though, you never did take anything for actual sleep, did you?  Just potions to keep the nightmares at bay. Are those potions no longer working? For what it is worth, I doubt that Theo thinks you are unstable all the time. Maybe just a tiny bit at this moment, but you have so much on your shoulders, Sirena. You always put so much on your shoulders. You block yourself off, throwing shields and barriers up, at the times when you need people the most. August is a hard month and it will never be easy. I think I am glad that you let your guard down, that you yelled to Theo about Lincoln, that your sadness about Lincoln slipped out without you meaning it to. Because, I think Theo is in it for the long haul, Sirena. I see the way he looks at you. I don’t think you can push him away so easily. Not that I think you are intentionally pushing him away. You just have such a hard time opening yourself up. You always have, ever since your Mom. Your Dad closed off to you then, and you did the same. Except, you had us Jeffersons constantly poking at your shields. Did I ever tell you that I thought I hated your father for awhile? Your Mom had just died and I could not find it in me to be empathetic to the grief your father was feeling, to the way he handled that grief. I only saw him pushing his daughter away, keeping her locked out, effectively making it like she had lost both her parents instead of one. You were the love of my life at the time, and I hated anyone who hurt you. My parents told me to be respectful, to not tell you what I was really feeling towards your father, to give him time. It was always give him time. And, they did their best to step into the void left by your parents, and I loved them so much more for that. But always I would want to grab your father by his shoulders and scream into his face that he was pushing you away, that he was losing you, and that you too were closing off. I definitely do not hate your father now, and I don't’ think it was ever really hate—just—a strong dislike and anger. Fuck, I am rambling. I’ll just pretend that I hope my rambling will lull you to sleep. Did I tell you that I am seeing Dr. Maeve Connolly again? It has only been a few weeks, really. I started going to her back in July, once things started to settle down a little. It all became too much after the attack, after seeing Madison like that. Probably, I would have benefited going back to her long before that, maybe after the kidnapping. But I always had an excuse, you know?  Bullshit things like, what if word got out that the President of MACUSA was seeing a therapist? Worries about patient and healer confidentiality, but… all of that was stupid of me to think. I got to thinking of how much she helped me after we lost Lincoln… Sirena, you need to stop blaming yourself for what happened with Lincoln. It was not your fault. It was NEVER your fault and it will never be your fault. It was just the cruelty of life. You did everything absolutely right when you found out you were pregnant. I think that is one thing about myself that I will never forgive myself for—that I did try to blame you—but I was foolish and stupid and awful for that. It was easier turning my own grief over like that. The men in your life, we fucking suck with how we handle our grief, don’t we? Hopefully, Theo will be a much better man than your father and I ever were in that department. I guess I am just trying to say, that seeing someone helped me with Lincoln, and is helping me now. Therapy is more than just a band-aid solution. And you don’t have to talk about everything that haunts you, you do not have to bring up Lincoln or your time in Azkaban if you are not ready. You don’t have to talk about the war. You can talk about how you can’t sleep, the fear you get from sleeping because of the nightmares. You can talk about absolutely anything you want, and save the bigger stuff until the healer is no longer a stranger to you. Therapy, it does not fix things in one meeting or even a hundred—it is a constant process, always evolving and changing as you and your needs change and evolve. Just… think about it, Sirena. Don’t write it off because you think it is a lost cause. I know how hard it is for you to open up to someone. Even someone you love and care for, let alone a person you do not even know or trust. But… they are trained to help you. Just like you help people with your potions and research. Think about it. I know you picture your life and what it would be like if Lincoln had been born if we had been able to raise our son. It is painful and magical all at once, because I think about it all the time, especially in August. Think about the example you would want to set him. I know, I would not want him to think it was shameful to seek help. Not that I think you think it is shameful to go to therapy, just… I don’t know. I am going to force myself to stop writing this letter. I want you to sleep, but I will tell you that, I doubt I will be going to sleep anytime soon myself. My box is always open for you, and Merlin that would sound a lot dirtier if I were a female. - Hamilton p.s. I think if Lincoln went to Hogwarts instead of Ilvermorny, he would be a Ravenclaw, from what I have heard of their houses. It is less painful for me to imagine him at Hogwarts than Ilvermorny. Hamilton stared at the letter he had finished writing. Then he folded it neatly and placed it in the box. He tapped the box with his wand, and then stood up and went to get a drink. He figured he would camp at his shitty rented desk for a little awhile longer, and a drink would help.

#hp rp #rp #the geeking shack #mama shitty writes #mama shitty rps #mama shitty one shots #rp character #rp character: hamilton b. jefferson #rp ship #rp ship: gavillton #rp ship: sirham

[gaysontodd]

I read MTMTE off and on for a few years, but didn’t really stick with it. Eventually, I got sucked in enough I got all the way to the first issue with the Scavengers, #7. And that? That was the turning point. I was hooked. Because, and this was so, so very important to me- Misfire was really fucking familiar.

Terrible impulse control? Yeah, I recognized that. Motormouth with no off button? Yep. (Not only did he talk- a lot- but he did it fast, and about seemingly random topics that made perfect sense to my brain.) Kinda annoyed by tiny things, but couldn’t hold a grudge for more than three minutes? Mmhm. Considered obnoxious by everyone around him? Yes. Attention span of about 30 seconds? Yeah.

Fun Fact: My brother was diagnosed with ADHD about a year and a half before I got to this issue. Also Fun Fact: in the character blurb found at the beginning of certain issues, Misfire’s reads ‘Proof that high-caliber weapons and attention deficit hyperactivity disorder don’t mix.’ Also Also Fun Fact: I read this issue and said, out loud, “Holy Shit, I have ADHD.”

So, I did research. What does ADHD mean? What’s the difference between ADHD and ADD? I found a lot of useful information but honestly? I cried, a bit. Because it wasn’t just my brain that was stupid and didn’t do what I wanted it to. It wasn’t only my brain that went off on tangent no one else could follow, it wasn’t only my brain that couldn’t hold information that it didn’t like to save my life, it wasn’t my brain only that couldn’t shut up and my mouth that matched. I wasn’t just me. I wasn’t broken or wrong. I wasn’t the only one like this.

I mentioned that my brother was diagnosed with ADHD a year and a half before I realized some things about myself. I didn’t recognize it when he was diagnosed because he and I present in similar, yet very different way, partially because I have ADD, which does not involve hyperactivity. He always picked fights, needing just that extra little bit but he hated when people fought because he is extremely empathetic. He’s loud and active and physical. I’ll argue the skin off anyone, anytime, but I don’t pick fights. I talk quietly but very very fast and I’m not active but I’m twitchy and if you let me start walking on a park trail you’ll have to drag me off because I’ll walk in circles for literal hours.

MTMTE is so important to me because I have never, ever seen a character with ADHD present in that way before. I’ve seen characters that are classic ADHD- the kind of symptoms that one kid in your class had. But the way they were presented with Misfire hit home, made me say OH. I’m not wrong. I might not be right, but I’m not wrong. I really, really needed that.

#add #adhd #mtmte #misfire #this is kinda abrupt but ill prob edit later #i just needed to write this so #dumbass galaxy brain #jstuff

[artificialqueens]

Convenient Denial Ch. 1 (Biadore) - Valencia

AN: FINALLY IT ME, THE BIADORE HOLIDAY FIC <3 I’m sorry it’s taken so long, it’s my first time writing fanfic so please let me know how I’m doing - I’d love to get any feedback/constructive criticism :)) The next two chapters are going to be super smutty with a sprinkling of angst/fluff and I think it’ll probably be around 4-5 chapters in total (I might write a pure fluff epilogue as well to finish it off depending on if you guys like it)

Thanks heaps for reading, love Valencia x

Blurb: Roy is convinced the only reason why he misses Danny so much is because they’re such good friends - nothing more, nothing less. Danny is supposedly well over the silly crush he used to have on Roy back in Season 6. As they go on holiday together, feelings surface that neither quite know how to deal with.

Chapter 1

The tensely corded muscles in Roy’s neck and his constant stress headaches are a blaring sign that he needs a holiday. He always a bit on edge lately, but surprisingly he’s been in a good mood the last couple of days –since Adore’s father’s day post. Danny always knows how to make him smile, and the annual father’s day post dedicated to him never fails to do so. Roy can’t quite pinpoint why, but he’s missing Danny more than usual especially after seeing his latest photos online. Not for the first time, he scrolls through Adore’s instagram feed, trying to ignore the way his eyes lingers on the more racy pics. A stupid grin refuses to leave his face as he clicks on Adore’s post to him. He reads the cute caption over twice before letting himself look at their photo. His heart tugs as he sees adorably rumpled Danny. They both look so happy, so content and comfortable in each other’s company. He misses the days during and after Season 6 when it seemed like his entire world was Adore and Courtney. Now all the time they get together is a group dinner every couple of months if they’re lucky. And barely any time with Danny.

Danny’s the one person he misses the most when he’s on the road. He knows exactly when to make him laugh, and when to stay quiet - even though he never actually does, and he’s a pro at reading him right back whenever Roy dishes it out. No one knows Roy Haylock, or Bianca Del Rio as well as Danny does, and that’s why they’re the closest of friends. He just wishes sometimes they could be like normal best friends, be able to walk over to each other’s houses whenever they feel like it and spend lazy Sundays watching trash reality shows, gossiping about their co-workers and painting their nails. He can’t remember the last time they saw each other for more than a couple days.  

Feeling unreasonably sorry for himself, he pushes all thoughts of Danny away. He’s lucky to be given this opportunity to travel the world, he firmly reminds himself, and he’s worked so hard to get to where he is now. But even Roy can tell he’s overworked and stressed, especially judging by the fact that he’s getting all soppy over something as small as missing his friend. He definitely needs a fucking holiday. The thought of a holiday has plagued his mind the last year or so but he’s never let himself commit to going. He dislikes being on a plane a second longer than needed but if he stays at home he knows he’ll end up working again, doing taxes or some other mundane task. Roy decides he has to go relax and unwind, have some drinks and maybe a massage or two - hopefully that’ll work all this tension out of his system.

He trawls the internet, researching destinations and browsing through idyllic beachfront resort photos. For some reason he doesn’t really feel that excited. After some thought he realises he can’t just sit alone in his own company for a week, he’ll be bored out of his mind. But on the other hand, he generally prefers his own company over others. Except for… No.. he can’t take Danny, can he? He mentally checks Adore’s schedule; refusing to admit to himself that it’s kinda stalkerish that he knows her entire upcoming month off by heart. He tells himself that he’s always made an effort to keep tabs on her career only because he’s incredibly proud of her success but it goes deeper than Roy likes to acknowledge - he mainly just likes to know where Danny is, especially when he’s not home. Adore isn’t touring at the moment but she’s fully booked around the States. What if he asks and Danny doesn’t think spending time together is important enough to miss his prior work commitments? Danny’s biggest pet peeve is being called lazy based on his punk drag and throws himself into his work to prove everyone wrong. Roy can’t do it, he’s so nervous even the thought of that conversation makes his stomach lurch. He knows he isn’t going to be able to face the rejection that may follow. With the idea of a holiday dismissed yet again, he pours himself a bitterly strong drink and slowly starts painting his eyes like a racoon for Bianca’s evening show.

The idea of Danny and Roy on vacation together buzzes around in Bianca’s head all night, no matter how hard she tries to concentrate on her comedy gig. Can’t help but get a little lost in the thoughts of having breakfast with Danny every single morning for seven days. Hearing Danny’s sunny laughter when he succeeds in making the younger man laugh and being able to say “See you tomorrow” and actually mean it. Bianca glugs through her drinks like a deprived alcoholic the entire show, trying and failing miserably to get Danny out of her head. Slowly everything starts to get a bit hazy, but that does little to repress the thoughts she’s been attempting to ignore. After a couple more drinks after the show has ended, with yet another stiff drink in hand, he finds himself picking out their seat selection so Danny can sit next to the window.

Roy wakes up the next morning to a pounding headache and a flight confirmation in his email inbox. His stomach slightly twists as he reads over the details.

Holiday resort package for two - Bali - one week.

Paranoia takes over, and he’s wondering how he’s going to break it to Danny - would Danny think it’s weird? Would he assume that Roy is just old and lonely, trying to buy company? Fuck. The older man doesn’t want to hear the hesitant ‘Sorry, I’ve got a lot going on right now’ from his lips, and the guilty ‘oh no, I feel so bad for wasting your tickets’ that will follow. Well. The tickets are already bought so he commands himself to suck it up, grow a pair and let Danny know. It’s his choice what he wants to do.

“I’ve got tickets. A week holiday, from this weekend.” Danny isn’t surprised at the early morning call from Roy or the lack of a greeting. “Oh my god cool! Where to?” “I won them.” He blurts out. Where the fuck did that come from? The white lie just slips out, his subconscious clearly a tad too insecure to tell him the full truth. Danny laughs, “You fucking lucky bitch. I guess once a winner always a winner.” “Guess that’s what happens when you’ve got talent.” Roy retaliates. A characteristic scream laugh from Danny’s end of the line. “Lucky for me I get to enjoy your benefits. So who’s the real winner bitch?” Roy’s laughing into the phone and Danny’s chest elates - he loves making Roy laugh.  He can’t remember the last time someone besides Roy has made him this goofily happy.

“So you wanna come?” “Fuck yeah, I’m down.” It’s only after Roy hangs up he realises with a grin that Danny has agreed to come without even knowing where they were going.

The second his call with Roy ends he’s calling his manager and cancelling the week block. There must be something in his voice, an urgency perhaps, that makes his manager silent for a few seconds on the phone rather than a straight up ‘what the fuck?!’ “You’re sure?” She asks dubiously. Danny’s never asked for time off before. “Yeah man, I really need some time, you know, to take care of myself.” She agrees to postpone whatever she can and Danny is thinking to himself that the stars have finally aligned. He gets Roy all to himself in paradise for a whole week - for free too! They’re going to have time to talk for fucking hours and do every single thing he misses doing with Roy. It’s gonna be fucking epic.

*  * *  * * *  * * * *

Roy tells Danny a later flight time so he knows the messy man won’t be packed. He drags Danny off to the airport with just a carry on each, haphazardly packed last minute. “Do you know what my deepest, darkest fantasy is?” Roy says suggestively, quirking a brow. Danny brain stutters for a split second - god yes, he wants to hear every single one of Roy’s dirty fantasies. “Wha?” He cringes at how he breathless he sounds as soon as the word is out of his mouth but thankfully Roy doesn’t seem to notice. “Travelling with just a tiny ass carry on!” Roy says with a laugh. Danny nods in full agreement, suppressing the tinge of disappointment he feels when he realises the latino man isn’t talking about anything remotely sexual. “Yeah girl, if we’re hauling their asses back on a plane we’re gonna do it without 5 motherfucking suitcases of drag.”

*  * *  * * *  * * * *

“Does our room have a balcony?” Danny asks with puppy dog eyes. Roy chuckles, and Danny nudges him with his shoulder as they’re walking from the resort lobby to the elevators. “I’m serious! I need a balcony for my morning joints.” “It’s not our room pussyfart, we have our own rooms. We’re famous remember? We can afford it.” Roy sarcastically retorts. Their rooms are side by side, almost identical with a king bed and a ridiculous number of pillows on each. Danny cheekily waits until Roy is unpacked before declaring that he prefers Roy’s balcony and that he better get used to him using it. The two look similar - actually Danny’s room seems to have the better view. Roy doesn’t argue though, he knows Danny will be out on his balcony pretty much 24/7 - and he doesn’t mind at all.

“We made it girl!” Danny flops onto the bed like a mermaid, legs tilted together before stretching out into a starfish and rolling around. “And the flight wasn’t even too bad.” Danny had thoroughly enjoyed the seemingly too short flight, mainly because he had spent most of it with Roy’s head nestled between his neck and shoulder. The show they started watching was so good too, even though half his attention was constantly fixed on how close Roy was to him. They spy the massive pool from their balcony and decide to have a dip, overly excited by the fact the pool also has a built in bar. “Wanna get a drink to celebrate?” Roy asks smiling. Danny jumps up without hesitation, “Party.”

They freshen up and make their way downstairs. Roy’s changed into a pair of khaki shorts that are tighter than usual and Danny’s eyes can’t help but trail down his toned back and linger on his round ass. Danny loves the booty, no matter what size or shape, but goddamn - the curve of Roy’s heart shaped ass is mouthwateringly gorgeous. Ugh, such a gorgeous man with such a gorgeous ass. He pushes the thought out of his head as they enter the outdoor balcony seating, he can’t think of Roy like that. He isn’t allowed to, not after the first time around. There had been a period after Season 6 where he let himself indulge in that fantasy. Mistaking every friendly and affectionate gesture as hidden romantic interest only led to the most painful heartbreak of his life – and it was worse because he never had Roy to begin with, so technically he didn’t even have a loss to mourn. But he’s over it now, and as long as he doesn’t let this thoughts stray to what could’ve been, he’ll be just fine.

They sprawl themselves on reclined lounge chairs, enjoying the luxury of ordering their food and drinks poolside. Impatient to swim, Roy wolfs down his noodles in record time and starts to lather on sunscreen. “Wait 30 minutes girl. I got mad cramps swimming after eating pizza once it was not cute.”  Roy secretly loves that Danny fusses over him a lot of the time but he rolls his eyes for dramatic effect. “No need to mother me.” “I’d rather be daddy actually.” Danny pouts his lips and winks suggestively. Roy lies back down to tan as he waits for the food in his stomach to settle and Danny moves himself closer so they can chat over the noise of the busy pool. They start discussing the drama on the tv show they’ve started on the plane, their unending stream of conversation diverging until they’re somehow giggling at each other’s childhood stories.

They’re so wrapped up in each other and it’s only when the sun is setting in glorious streaks of red and purple that they realise how late it’s become. Not wasting any more time, they jump in; Roy swimming long, powerful strokes while Danny splish splashes around like a flying fish. He keeps accidentally splashing Roy in the face, shrieking and pretending to drown when Roy retaliates. They have handstand competitions and bet drinks on who can hold their breath underwater the longest. Danny always wins despite his smoker lungs and Roy playfully accuses him of cheating, jumping on him and pulling him under. “It’s ‘cause I’m a mermaid.” He says with a theatrical hair flip. Roy shakes his head, “More like a siren. Luring trade to their tragic deaths.” Danny blinks up at him with wet eyelashes and a cheeky smile and Roy can’t stop staring at how fucking perfect his face is. He can’t stop his hammering heart either and even though he knows his heart shouldn’t be beating that fast for a friend, especially Danny, his heart gives zero fucks.

They swim until they’re the only two left in the pool and it feels like their entire bodies are pruned. Roy gets out first to get them towels and as the multicoloured poolside lights reflect off the sheen of water on his body, Danny can’t help but gawk at him. Roy’s wearing a thin loose singlet, and seeing it plastered wet on him is almost more erotic than his bare chest. The clingy see through shirt defines the lean muscles of his torso, not leaving much to the imagination yet not revealing everything. God, his thoughts turn dirty so quick it makes his head spin and Danny gets hard as his eyes trail down to where Roy’s tight shorts do nothing to conceal his bulge. He’s trying to think of repulsive and un-sexy things like centipedes and people getting run over by a bus but his efforts get lost in a sea of filthy fantasies where Roy and him share the starring role.

“Let’s go back up, the pool’s closing down. I think the cleaners are getting a bit impatient waiting on us.” Roy’s standing by the edge of the pool, ready to go. Danny shakes his head, wracking his brain for an excuse to stay in a bit longer until he can get his problem under control. His face is an open book and it slowly dawns on Roy why he’s blushing and refusing to get out. “Oh my god are you haard?” Roy teases with a chuckle, his voice involuntarily deepening. “No it’s just- it’s not because of anything- it’s just like- one of those random boners you get you know? When you’re in one position for ages and then you move suddenly-” He’s rambling nervously, looking anywhere but Roy which the older man is thankful for - or else he would’ve noticed Roy heatedly staring at the outline of his hardened cock pressing against his swimming shorts. Roy forces himself to look away. “C’mere, I’ll block you. The cleaners are coming over to tell us to go.” He holds out a towel for him as Danny sheepishly gets out, avoiding all eye contact. Roy thinks to himself that red-faced, embarrassed Danny is probably one of the cutest things he’s ever seen - and accidentally-hard Danny is definitely the sexiest.

#bianca del rio #adore delano #biadore #fluff #angst #valencia #rpdr fanfiction #canon compliant #convenient denial

[spxllcxstxr]

Bridge Over Troubled Water • R.L

(Gif not mine)

Requests: can you do a blurb with Remus where the reader is nervous and anxious, maybe has a tough week and he gives her a massage and helps her relax? — anon and Hi! can you write an imagine where the reader is dating Remus and is disappointed in her school grades / results and is overall doubting herself and is disappointed with herself? — @emmaev

Summary: Things are getting really tough. Remus is here for you.

Warnings: mention of food, not eating/skipping a meal, hunger, depression, anxiety, a bit of a panic attack, homework, school, self deprecating thoughts, kinda take how we’re feeling in this pandemic and that’s kinda what this fic is, Snape being an ass for like two sentences, crying

Word Count: 1.7k

A.N: I hope it’s alright that I combined your two requests. But, I decided to make it longer with a lot more comfort. I really hope it’s ok with you guys ❤️ Kinda a vent fic? So that’s why it’s lowkey all over the place and the ending is sorta..abrupt? I hope you like it, though. I wanna say that I’m always here for you guys. This whole thing has been kicking my ass and school has been extremely tough for me, so know that you’re not alone. Know that you’ve got this. I believe wholeheartedly in you. Love you all. ❤️

Title: Simon and Garfunkel - Bridge Over Troubled Water

****

You trudge up the stone steps to the boys dorms, your bag dragging heavily behind you. With your robes slipping from your shoulders and your tie dangling loosely around your neck, you almost consider letting your bag go. Watching the heavy sack of books tumble recklessly down the spiral staircase seems like a great idea to you. However, you make it to the sixth year dorms before you’re able to loosen your grip.

The oak door was closed but not locked. What use was a lock when the door was charmed to singe off the eyebrows of any unwelcome visitor? Thankfully, the boys granted you complete access to their room in third year, so the door couldn’t harm you.

Turning the brass doorknob and stepping through the threshold, you’re greeted by somewhat organized chaos.

Sirius and Peter’s side of the room was a complete disaster while James and Remus’ side was at least nicer to look at. Sure a few books were scattered on the floor and James’ red and yellow underwear was hanging from his bedpost visible to anyone who walked in, but that’s nothing compared to whatever the other two have going on. You don’t even want to look at it, knowing full well that just one tiny glance would make your already terrible day worse.

The room is empty and completely quiet, the boys, just like every other person in the castle, were down in the Great Hall for dinner. At the thought of dinner just downstairs, your stomach grumbles before quickly churning in agony.

Quickly, you dump your bag next to the door and go through Remus’ drawers, searching for that one specific jumper.

It’s the deep blue cable knit one that always smells like him. The jumper is soft and warm and the perfect piece of clothing to cuddle into when you needed a good cry. And Godric, you needed a good, long, ugly cry.

After finding it and throwing it on, you barely lift up your feet walking to your boyfriend’s bed to get swallowed up by his blankets.

The weight of the day hits you full force the moment your head collides with his pillow, and your lips wobbles, the day replaying in your mind.

Your morning started with a Transfiguration exam that definitely was not on what you studied all night for.

Then, your potion bubbled out of your cauldron and started disintegrating the stone flooring, making Slughorn shoot you very disappointed look that made you want to disappear into the Forbidden Forest forever.

Defense Against the Dark Arts turned into a complete disaster as well when Professor Bluebell handed back your essays on inferi, and yours ended up with a spikey red D scrawled angrily on the top. D, which stands for Dreadful, as Snape snidely reminded you from over your shoulder. He flashed you smug little smirk along with the delicate O that adorned his own essay.

And to top it all off, you had to meet up with Flitwick right after classes to go over the vinegar to wine charm that for some reason wouldn’t work for you no matter how hard you tried. And you still weren’t successful.

This was becoming a common occurrence.

You always knew that your N.E.W.T. year was going to be tough, but Merlin, you never expected it to be this awful.

Classes were longer and harder and your professors were relentless and unforgiving with the amount of homework and exams they started handing out.

Sure you had more free periods, but those were filled with research and essays and studying, you had no free time at all—it was all a lie.

You couldn’t escape it. Sleep was just more time to be plagued by anxiety to the point you barely even slept at all. Most of the time you stared blankly up at the ceiling thinking about all the assignments you could be doing instead.

It’s this torturous and vicious cycle that you just can’t get out of.

And your motivation was quickly disappearing.

It was getting tougher and tougher each time to even do your homework. Lifting up your quill and taking out a stack of parchment was just difficult. It took too much energy out of you.

Smothering your face in Remus’ pillow, you groan out your frustration, balling your fists around the frayed sleeves of the jumper.

You’re so wrapped up in your despair and panic that you don’t hear the door creak open and four sets of footfalls and laughter bounce around the room.

“Damn, what’s up with you?” Sirius chuckles. You hear him flop onto his own bed.

You bury your nose in the fabric of the jumper, inhaling the sweet and comforting scent of chocolate and old parchment that always accompanies Remus Lupin.

“Don’t be a git, Pads.” Remus scoffs, making his way towards you.

He crouches down by your head, placing a delicate thumb on your cheekbone.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” His tone turns soft, drenched with concern.

You squeeze your eyes shut tight, tears trickling down the bridge of your nose and dripping down to the white sheets.

“Alright, darling, hold on.” Remus whispers, placing a dainty kiss on your forehead.

He straightens up, knees creaking the way no sixteen year old’s should.

“Alright, lads, clear out.” Remus declares to his friends.

“You can’t kick me out of my room, Moony. No way.” You hear James whine.

“Yes, I can, Prongs, c’mon. Go play chess with Peter or something.”

“But he always beats me.”

“C’mon, Prongsie, we can scam the first years by making them place bets on you winning.” Sirius suggests. His boots click against the floorboards, trailing towards the door.

Peter’s light footsteps follow after them.

“Fine.” James huffs dramatically. “But I’m not sleeping on the couch again, so no funny business.”

The door slams shut and once again you’re met with silence, though you do hear Remus changing out of his uniform and into more comfortable attire.

The bed dips underneath Remus’ weight and his hand gently starts to stroke through your hair.

“Tell me what’s wrong, my love.” Remus mumbles just loud enough for you to hear.

You try to swallow down the lump in the back of your throat.

“Just a very shitty day, Rem.” You manage to croak out, the words choppy and wavering.

Tears begin to flow freely, warm salty streaks making their way down your face in rapid succession.

“Oh darling.” Remus coos, practically pulling you into his arms and between his legs. You bury your face into his neck, tears dampening his scarred flesh. “It’s alright, let it out.” He continues to run your hair between his fingers. “Let it all out...”

“I-I’m just so stupid!” You sob, choking on spit. “Everything’s just getting too much and I can’t fucking take it anymore!”

He squeezes you closer to his chest, opting to stay silent so you can vent everything off of your chest. His cheek is pressed to the top of your head and you’re vaguely aware that you’re being rocked gently back and forth.

“It’s so hard!” You continue to wail, lungs constricting rapidly. It’s a struggle to keep breathing and your words barely come out fully, instead broken fragments are the only things spewing out.

“I’m a failure!” You spit out, face wet with tears.

“You’re not a failure, my love. I promise.” Remus tried to soothe, his voice adopting a small but noticeable waver. His hand rubs your back.

“I am! I’m a disappointment!” You sniff, taking in deep gulps of air.

“Shh...” Remus pulls you back a bit so he can see your entire face.

You already know you look disgusting. Eyes blotchy and red, tears streaming down your face. Snotty, spitty, wobbling, and watery features taking up his entire vision.

“What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours, hm? Let me help.” He consoles you softly.

You gaze into his warm honey brown eyes, glistening with his own tears.

You sniff, rubbing the sleeves of Remus’ stolen jumper across your face in an attempt to dry yourself off.

“Everything’s slipping, Rem. My grades, my mental health, everything. And I’m so lost I don’t know what to do anymore.” You confess. “What am I supposed to do?” You bring your hands up to you hair, tugging at your scalp enough for you to feel sparks of pain.

Quickly, his own trembling hands take yours. He stops you from tugging, instead bringing them to rest on his jumper clad chest.

You swallow harshly.

“I’m going to help you, (Y/n)—“

“You can’t help me, Remus! I’m beyond help—“

“No, you’re not.” He retorts lightly. “I’ll help you with homework and help you ask for a few extensions...we can get you back on track.”

“Remus...” Your voice trembles at his kindness.

“I’m sorry.” He rasps out, a tear or two slipping from his waterline. “I’m so so sorry that I didn’t see you suffering like this. Merlin, (Y/n).”

Shaking his head at himself, he brings his forehead down to your own.

“I’ll be better. I’ll be better, I swear.” Remus keeps repeating in a pained mutter.

“It’s not your fault, Rem. I got good at acting like everything was fine.” Your voice cracks.

“Still! I should’ve realized!” He mutters angrily.

“I love you, Remus. I love you so much, please don’t beat yourself up over this.” You plead.

He bites his lip, deciding to drop it, instead focusing on you.

“Why don’t we try to relax, hm? Just take a nice night off?” Remus suggests, pulling away to brush strands of hair away from your sticky face.

“But what about homework—?”

“Tomorrow, love. I think we deserve a break, don’t you?”

You shlyly nod, and he presses his lips to your forehead.

“You’re beautiful, darling.” Remus whispers.

“I just bawled my eyes out, Rem, I’m sure I look like a swamp hag.” You snort.

He brings his hands to your shoulders, rubbing deep circles into your back muscles. The knots start to dissipate.

“Never seen a swamp hag as angelic as you.” Remus flirts. But his voice is so sincere and honest, you have no choice but to somewhat believe him.

“Thank you, Remus.” You smile. “It means so much to me.”

“Anything for the love of my life.” He confesses, trailing his pink lips down your neck. “Now let me hold you close.”

He lays down, resting his head on his pillow, your head resting on his chest.

Things are going to get better.

Probably not tomorrow.

Probably not this week.

But things will.

•

All Character Taglist: @aspiringsloth20

#Remus Lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin angst #remus lupin fluff #the marauders x reader #the marauders

[wardenalistair]

Please tell us more about Leon! Or any other npcs you don't mind sharing!

what have you done, anon

this’ll be long winded so under the cut

I’ll talk about only two of my NPCs cause otherwise this’ll get too long. Leon, who is technically a lycanthrope, and the current apple of my eye, hopelessly devoted to @wittyy-name‘s rogue Sephrius. And then Jelly who is the MOST fun to RP is my badass jiggly barbarian who @gibslythe‘s halfling romanced.

Leon-

Leon is the character I designed as the big bad in the latest campaign I wrote. He’s a lycanthrope but through favouritism from the pack’s Deity and being an arcana prodigy, he’s maintained his humanity past most other members of the pack. He is somewhere in his early to mid 30s. Can’t give you specific age even if I wanted to cause his birthdate is literally unknown. He has dark black hair, cut slightly shorter on the sides with a thick collection of dark curls on the top that usually sit at around mid-forehead length. When he’s not put together, his hair is a little wild and untamed, but as soon as he’s given at least ten minutes to straighten up (haha as if that’s even possible; he’s so fucking gay) its all gathered in place and cleaned up.His face is always composed and he is seldom showing more than a flat, almost disinterested expression, regardless of whether or not he really *is* disinterested.

Dark straight brows perpetually set in place, framing moonlight silver eyes that neutrally and carefully observe everything around him. He’s rarely clean shaven, not out of choice but mainly out of defeat, as his five o’clock shadow is more of an eleven o’clock shadow so he’s given up trying to tame it and just keeps it as a manageable stubble most of the time. Honestly really pretty lips that only very very occasionally curl up into anything more than a flat line of neutrality.He’s half human, quarter elandrin (high elf) and quarter drow - not that he knows that last bit - so his ears are pretty average sized for a human, with only a slight point to them to differentiate him from actual humans. Due to his half-human/quarter-elandrin bloodline, he’s pretty tall - six feet on the dot. Unlike the average half-elf, he doesn’t match the lithe, lean physique they usually sport. He has broad shoulders and is fairly well built - think Chris Evans à la Captain America build (thanks lycanthrope for the swollness). 

His usually attire is very clean in both look and legitimately cleanliness. Streamline outfits that fall somewhere in the black, gray and white colour spectrum. With the only really colour being gold accents but that’s only in accessories or small details on otherwise monochromatic pieces. Plain and crisp shirts matched with just as plain and crisp pants. He’s a simple man when it comes to looks, the only real necessity is that he’s put together.Studious and academic, he spends the vast majority of his free time researching more and more arcana to add to his already expansive repertoire of spells. He’s athletic enough to defend himself in hand-to-hand combat but his skills with weapons is very limited, keeping it as a last resort. 

The subject of him and @wittyy-name‘s Sephrius is a whole other matter and I will not elongate his blurb anymore than is necessary. 

Jelly Belly- 

Jelly is my Dwarven Barbarian lady who I want to step on me. Her intro to new people (in a thick and dramatized southern drawl) is “My name is Joanne Mary-Louise Anne Katherine Thompson but my friends call me Jelly Belly on account of ONE: my love for Jelly Bellies and TWO: my jelly belly” and then jiggles her belly. She a heavy set dwarf lady who will mess you up if you look at her the wrong way. She’s the Champion of my campaign’s small western town, which means she won an all out brawl that determines who gets to “govern” the town. Its hard to explain in few words. She doesn’t want the job tbh - some dude just whistled at her and she decided to fuck him up, but then people just kept coming and coming so she just kept knocking them out as they came. She runs a cattle farm which supplies the small desert town with resources but she’s not the MOST hospitable. When the party first came to her farm (unannounced) she shot two of the members in the foot only to be later courted by one of them.

Anyways, she’s a taller dwarf (which isn’t all that tall lmao) with freckles sprinkled over any and all skin visible. She has big, Merida curly, red hair that is usually down but sometimes whipped up into a messy knot on top of her head when she’s more involved in what she’s working on. She’s fucking TANKED okay, like will tear your arm off with a handshake tanked, with a big, round, jiggly belly that she is immensely proud of. She’s often dressed in denim overalls and a white t-shirt, occasionally a straw hat when its super sunny out. 

She has a bunch of cows, but her favourite is a red cow named Juicy. She got Juicy when she was a teenager -- well, her mom did with the intention of having her used for milk for a bit then slaughtered for meat. Jelly fell for her almost immediately and refused to let her mom slaughter her, so she’s kept her as pretty much just a pet ever since then and has her trained very much like a dog. She also has a bull named Steve that she has some beef with (haha) but keeps around cause she needs a bull. I’m pretty sure she’ll come around to him at some point but she holds grudges for now. 

@gibslythe‘s halfling named Nym asked her out to dinner and Jelly, a huge fucking lesbian, agreed if she won in an arm wrestling match. Tiny Nym was doomed and obviously lost but Jelly liked her so agreed to at least a drink. I rolled to see how their date went post-campaign and rolled an 18, then rolled to see how their relationship went and rolled a nat20 so they’re hitched now. It’s canon. 

okay okay im done im sorry that was lengthy. I have 100000 other NPCS who i love - my first NPC couple I created who have held my heart for years, my genasi cleric who is the daughter of a water god (also her patron), my suave af halfling swashbuckler who runs a mercenary guild, my one eyed and gruff dwarf merc leader who is endlessly annoyed by my halfling. It goes on and on. I love my kids okay. 

#ask #anon #dnd #d&d #Anonymous

[symphysins]

Have any other good fics for us???

sorry this took a while to reply back to. i’ve been compiling this for a while.

since you didn’t specify what kind of fics, i’m gonna give like a smorgasbord of different ut fics i love w/ a blurb of stupid commentary from me :’D

(be warned, snas is my fav so a bunch feature him/are centered around him.)

(also be warned that not everything i like may be ur cup of tea, so make sure to read the tags/warnings.)

longpost under cut. ready? here we gooo~ ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ 

Universal Displacement by knowmeknot: A forgotten doctor once theorized that when the same event occurs at the exact same time in two separate universes, they converge for a single moment and something… spectacular happens. A destabilization maybe. Or a merge. Or better yet, a displacement of two similar but different entities.

one of my favorite kedgeup things is when ut!sans or uf!paps lands in the other’s universe, and this fic expands on this idea rlly well.

A Lack of Brotherly Love by Askellie: After a brutal series of genocide runs, Sans wakes up in an alternate universe where the monsters were saved, everyone is on the surface and the future looks bright…except the fundamental difference in this universe is that its resident Sans never loved or supported his brother. As a result, Papyrus is a lonely outcast, unable to fit in and scarred from years of emotional neglect.And Sans isn’t going to let that stand.

i desperately want sans to punch the fuck out of dr.serif. and then go give poor paps all the hugs he deserves.

To Love Yourself by undertailsoulsex: UF!Sans fights with his brother and doesn’t know what to do with himself. He ends up traveling to the Undertale Universe where he meets the kindhearted Sans and Papyrus.UF!Sans has to come to terms with his depression and his newfound feelings for the other skeletons.

this fic emotionally destroyed me… but in a good way i swear! it’ll lead you on a rollercoaster of feels, but it’s worth it.

It’s A Long Story by RiseiTekiSensei: a soriel series detailing toriel and sans’ relationship in the underground and aboveground. i really like how both of them have their own issues, and how they support eachother through those issues. i also love how head over heels sans is for toriel.

A Fortune Cookie For You by Darkhymns: “In bed” jokes are the lowest form of comedy. So, of course, Sans and Toriel love them.

the jokes man. the jokes are the best.

Never a Lovely So Real by Kaesa: The city of Ebott, 193X. The market’s down, the crime rate’s up, and Sans is just trying to make a buck and keep an eye on his brother by working for the Dreemurr crime family. But after the Dreemurrs rescue a human child from their rival gang, the Flower Boys, Sans soon finds himself in way over his head. (Well. Not that that’s hard.)  

i love all the research put in to make this mob au fic really authentic. reading the little anecdotes at the end is rlly fun. 

Our Skeleton by yastaghr: The people who love him come to realise Sans may be hiding something from them. 

this. this is the fic that really got me into sansgoriel. royal goats showering tiny skele in love is the best.

for queen and country by tealmoon: Being the Judge of the Underground isn’t just a job, it’s about being chosen to carry out the infallible will of the Royal Family, to keep chaos and crime at bay, to protect all of Monsterkind.            

And for Papyrus, it’s about being helpless, and afraid, and alone.

us!paps suffering: the fic. somebody give this skele a friend. pls, he desperately needs one.   

Fired Up and Bone Weary by perniciousLizard: slowburn domestic sansby series. sans is written so in-character and grillby is really fleshed-out as a character. there’s tension and drama here and there, but it still feels mellow overall. reading this fic feels like sitting next to a warm hearth. 

These are our Days by Rehlia: Two days ago, you said goodbye to your best friend. Yesterday, you lost your job with no prior notice. And then today, you had a fight with your mom. So that’s your day today. Lonely, fighting with your mom, jobless. Perfect Day for a drink or two, right? What’s that on TV about monsters?You didn’t expect the monsters to accept that application for a social media job you sent them while you were drunk. Now you’ve suddenly moved to Ebott and spend your days hanging out with monsters, documenting your weird new life, and marvelling at how different monsters and humans can be - and how similar.  

god, i love all the worldbuilding in this fic. the little things about monster culture are so great. this fic really makes me invested in monsterkind’s integration on the surface. and the build-up to the sans/reader relationship rlly makes it all the more satisfying.

Tend to your memories by Rainbow_Sprinkles: Post-Pacifist after many, many resets. Explores political, social, and personal facets of monster integration into human society. Begins in 211X and spans over many years. Political and social climates have undergone major shifts from those of the present day. Character development and platonic-familial relationships receive the most attention. Major motifs include health, medicine, and science. 

realistically, i think a lot of the ut cast have been traumatized in some way, and this fic explores that very thoroughly. i think my favorite part about this series is the frisk, flowey, and chara development.

Kingship, And What Comes Next by CatKing_Catkin: This is the story of the Underground after Sans hung up the phone, after Papyrus took the throne. There’s no one left to guide him, no one left to look up to. Papyrus doesn’t want to let anyone down, especially not Sans when his brother is working so hard to support him. Sans doesn’t want to let Papyrus down, when his brother really is all he has left.They make mistakes, they miss one another, but together, they try to figure things out.This is a story about growing up, moving on, and what’s important in life.

this fic managed to take one of the saddest (imo) endings and turn it into something hopeful. 

lest ye be judged by nilchance: in an alternate universe, asgore became something like a parental figure to sans and papyrus. the whole series is wonderful, and i love the relationship sans and asgore have. 

Tsum Papyri by BarkingPup: In this world there is only Papyrus and… more Papyrus

the super sweet tsumtsum au made by zarla turned incredibly horrifying.

Overextension by MaxieSatan: Strength and weakness are not mutually exclusive, and neither one always looks the same.

i like reading fics about undyne & sans, bc you really never see them interact in game. it’s interesting to think about how they’d act around eachother.

Late Night Snack by EvilZebra:    

Tuesday 3:55 amRUDE SKELETON: did he ask you to help too                     

RUDE SKELETON: he did i can hear more pots dying             

RUDE SKELETON: pls spare my ketchup it does not deserve this 

papyrus cooks at 3 in the morning. sans and undyne suffer.

social links by simplycarryon: Friendship’s pretty neat, or so your video games and anime dictate. But you are not an anime protagonist, and you’re not sure you know what friendship is any more.

i love sans and alphys being science buddy friends.

Angels in the Underground by joliemariella: 200 years ago, angels were banished from the surface world after the commander of the heavenly host, Asgore, declared war on mankind. Now, young Frisk has fallen into the Underground and must conquer the angels’ seven trials if she, and the angels themselves, are to have any hope of escape. Along the way she meets Sans, a wounded seraphim who agrees to guide her through the trials at Toriel’s request. Friends are made, history unfolds, and Sans comes to hope again.

monsters with wiiiingsss. also seraphim dad sans is best dad.

Butterscotch and Bones by kaliawai512: Toriel promised herself she would never leave the Ruins. She had to stay there, to make sure that if a human fell, she could care for them - even if she couldn’t stop them from going to their deaths in time. But now and then, leaving is inevitable. The Ruins have only so many resources, after all. This time, before she heads Home from her latest expedition, she decides to stop and check in on the asocial Royal Scientist who was once her good friend.                                                   

She doesn’t find him.                                        

She finds two other someones instead.

FLUFF. SO MUCH FLUFF. some sad, bUT THAT ONLY MAKES THE FLUFF SWEETER. this fic is like a balm on the soul from the hurt of the handplates au.

Under the Veil by poplasia: Sans has gotten himself stuck in the void between worlds in a successful attempt to stop the resets of his timeline. He’s not sure how long he’s been chillin’ alone there, but eventually a chance at escape stumbles his way in from the Veil of Death. His name?—Sirius Black.

crossovers are great. crossovers with two of my favorite fandoms are even better. i’m really excited to see what these two pranksters will do next.

Missing Child Case by StoryCloud: Against all odds, the police find the four-year old that went missing around the summit of Mount Ebbot. A story from a child’s perspective has many interpretations.

it’s really rare to see fics that deal with neutral route endings, so this is a nice treat. also the fact that frisk is only four puts things into a diff. perspective.

The Best of Times, the Worst of Times by ABadTime: Set immediately after the pacifist run, the dark history of the skeleton brothers begins to surface when everything that held them together unravels, leading to the revelation of dark and transformative truths.The Best of Times, the Worst of Times sees the rise of heroes of unusual stripes in the face of unusual traumas, and explores the value of relationships in unusual times. The True Labs hold a great many terrible secrets only some of which have been able to reach their conclusion.

leaves you hanging on at the edge of your seat at some points, and has a satisfyingly happy ending. not to mention super cool gb!sans.

a lesson in grief. by ohmygodwhy:                           

you’ve got pressure dripping off your shoulders.               

or: sans tries to deal with some things.

let’s end this off with some of that sweet, sweet sans suffering. one of the first few ut fics i read. the ending was like a punch in the gut.

#paperbeanbag #ultra mega long fic rec post! #hope you like it? #i could scream on and on about how much i love fic #there's even more fic i have bookmarked but this post was getting too long #if anyone wants a more fontcest/skeleton centered list i could probs make one