#and i had to go looking for squared paper

[sits-bound]

Bound: All the Young Dudes by MsKingBean89

Well THIS took a long time.

I started typesetting it months ago. It's so long with a lot of chapters, and a lot of details. At first I split it into three volumes, but one would have been way longer than the others, so I resplit it into four, which I like, but just made it take that much longer.

Compared to the typesetting, binding it was a breeze. I purposely did not put any color on the inside so that I could just print it out on my laser printer. I put that thing through a workout! I had to stop and let it rest quite a bit. Poor buddy. Everything went smoothly with the folding and the punching and the sewing. I had fun making the end papers.

So lovely and clean and straight!

And then.

Then.

See, I was going to sand the edges instead of putting it through the guillotine. I even bought a power hand sander a few weeks ago. I was going to embrace the sawtooth, just sand the top and bottom a bit.

But for SOME reason I decided to trim the edges and, well, that was a big mistake.

Nothing ended up square. Everything shifted while cutting. The best I can say is that no text got cut off in the making of these binds.

As I was creating the cases, I realized that the boards (which I also cut with the guillotine) were not square either. It was all such a mess. But in the end, the text blocks fit within their cases, just not squarely. So looking at the outside of the set, you'd never know they're all cattywampus inside.

Moony says they look fine.

Oh, lovely!

Well, let's take a peek at the inside, shall we? I'm going to put them under a cut because it's a horror show.

Well, the endpapers are cute.

Oh that's not so bad!

OH GOD

Moony does not like this, though.

What's a "square"?

So, there you have it. Sigh.

Fonts: Chapters and titles: Krifon Body: Miller Display

This was supposed to be a gift for a friend, but I'm going to make a paperback version next and let her decide which one she wants.

#fanbinding #ficbinding #bookbinding #sits bound #all the young dudes #wolfstar #marauders

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Everything Falls Into Place

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.4k

Warnings: fluff, worrying about not being able to adopt a child, anxiety

Request by anon: Aww if steve and vixen settle down imagine them fostering or adopting a child. In their words "adoption helps a kid"

Summary: You and Steve start the process of adopting a child. There are a lot of steps that you have to go through, including a background check. You're worried about your past as Vixen is finally going to bite you in the ass. This is it. This is the other shoe you've been waiting for to drop.

Cat and Mouse Masterlist

Squares Filled: social worker au (2021) for @star-spangled-bingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

“What is taking her so long?” you sigh impatiently.

“She’s only been gone five minutes. Calm down,” Steve chuckles from beside you. Steve looks over at you to see you bouncing your leg from how nervous you are. You’re wringing your fingers together to keep yourself from biting your nails. “Y/N, you’re acting like a criminal who just got caught. Take a deep breath.”

“Steve, this woman is the decider on whether or not we have a child. Forgive me if I’m a little anxious.”

Your social worker, Amy, takes another ten minutes before she’s back in the office, and you let out a relieved sigh that she hasn’t kicked you out… yet.

“I am so sorry. We’re extremely backed up,” she says and takes a seat across from you.

“It’s no problem,” Steve smiles politely.

“So, you’re looking to adopt a child? It’s a big responsibility.”

“Yes, ma’am. We’ve actually been wanting this for a while now.”

“Why now? Why not then?”

You and Steve look at each other in thought. Maybe it’s because you two were out fighting in wars you had no business being in. Maybe it’s because you finally came face to face with Zemo again after so many years of being away from him, and you almost killed him. Maybe it’s because even though you think you’re ready to be parents… you’re actually not.

“We felt like the timing wasn’t right,” Steve finally answers and peels his eyes away from you.

“Have you always wanted to have children?”

“Yes, I have,” Steve answers honestly. “For as long as I could remember.”

“And you?” Amy asks.

“In the beginning, yes. I mean, when I was a lot younger. Some shit happened to me and I didn’t allow myself to feel that way until recently. Maybe in the last couple of years? I can’t have children biologically, but I do want one.”

“I never know how to ask this question despite how many years I’ve been doing this, but what kind of parents would you two be?”

“I can’t say for sure. How can anyone know for sure? We’ve never taken care of a child before. There will be obstacles that we might not know how to get over but I can tell you one thing. We will do our very best to make sure this child is loved, safe, and raised to be the best person they can be.”

“That’s a good answer,” Amy smiles and writes in her notebook. Steve rubs his thumb on the back of your hand comfortingly. “This is going to be a long process but I have confidence that it will go by quicker than you think.” She hands over a piece of paper to Steve. “Here is a list of everything I will be needing by the end of this week. Legal papers. You know how it goes. Next will be an extensive background screening for everyone living in the adoptive household. After that will be the in-home interview and inspection of the home.”

You don’t hear anything past background screening. What if they find out about Vixen? They won’t want to give you a child when they figure out how many people you’ve killed. What if they come for the home inspection and find your room of weapons? You’re not getting a kid.

“Okay,” you squeak out.

Steve notices your panic but decides not to say anything about it until you two leave the office building.

“What’s going on?”

“What if they find out about Vixen? The Winter Soldier? My time in Hydra?”

“They won’t--”

“What if they do?” you cut him off. “What if they don’t see me fit to be a mother? What about the guns and shit we have at the house? They’re not going to allow us to be parents with all that there.”

“Baby, you need to calm down. We’re going to do fine.”

His words go in through one ear and out the other. You hear him talk but you’re not listening to a word he’s saying. When you get home, you immediately head to the room with all your weapons and begin taking them off the wall. If you’re going to make this house suitable for a child, you have to make sure it’s safe for one.

“Y/N, it’s going to be fine.”

“No, it’s not. We live in a state where it’s illegal to carry outside your home. We aren’t even allowed to have this many weapons in the house.”

Steve knows you have to do this in order to make yourself feel better. He leaves you to box the weapons while he gets his phone out of his pocket. He calls Bucky, Sam, and Nat to come over because he thinks having them here is going to help you. He has always been the more level-headed one in the relationship which is why he’s being so calm about this. He has faith that everything is going to work out just fine.

“How long has she been like this?” Nat asks when she gets there.

“Since we left the social worker.” They know you and Steve have wanted a child for a while now. “Nothing I say matters.”

“Hey, Y/N,” Natasha says and walks into the room. “You doing okay?”

“No, I’m not. I have to get these weapons out of here. Can you keep them for a while?”

“Sure. You’re going to do just fine. If anyone deserves a kid, it’s you two.”

“No, it’s not okay. Amy is going to come in here and see all these weapons and she is not going to give us a child. This isn’t safe for one. Or she will know I’m Vixen and think wow, a mass murderer assassin doesn’t deserve a kid. Or she’ll know about Bucky, Thanos, and everything else we have done in our lives.”

“Would it help if we helped you?”

“Yeah,” you smile.

Bucky, Sam, Nat, and Steve help clear out the room until it’s bare. This is the room you’re going to use for the nursery. You don’t have any supplies since you’re not sure when you’re going to be getting a kid, so you’ll keep it bare for now. Bucky and Nat take the weapons to hold onto until this whole thing blows over. Your house has a basement that you can put them into only until after the inspections are done.

On the day of the interview and home inspection, you have cookies baking in the oven to give the home a sweet smell. You have been cleaning all day to ease your worries. Steve is nervous as hell but less than you are.

“I think this is the tenth time you fluffed that pillow.”

“It has to be perfect.”

“It is. You are. It’s going to be fine.”

“I know. It’s going to be great,” you smile. Amy shows up on the dot, and you let her in eagerly. “Welcome to our home. It’s good to see you again.”

“Thank you. Wow, smells good in here.”

“I have cookies that just left the oven. Would you like one?”

“No, thank you. I have two more visits to do. Not to sound rude but I’d like to get started right away.”

“Of course.”

You two lead her to the living room and sit across from her. Steve reaches for your hand and pulls it into his lap.

“To start with, why don’t you two tell me what you two do for a living?”

“We are employed with Stark Industries,” Steve says. Happy sends money to every Avenger on behalf of Tony. You don’t need a job when your job is saving people who need it. Does she not know you two are Avengers? “We make about two hundred thousand each every year.”

“Do you enjoy your work?”

“We love it. I can’t see myself doing anything else.”

“What are some of your hobbies?” Amy asks you.

“I love to sew. I love making my own clothes. I actually made my own wedding dress. It brings me peace whenever it’s just me, a needle, and some fabric.”

“And you?” Amy asks Steve while writing in her notebook.

“I like to draw, sometimes. I’ve been practicing more these days. I like to fish. We have a cabin up north that we like to go to when the weather is nice.”

“Tell me about your marriage, and how your relationship is with your significant other.”

You look at Steve and smile lovingly at him.

“There is nothing I wouldn’t do for this man. He has saved me in ways you can’t possibly imagine. He’s my best friend. Sure, we have our ups and downs, but there is nothing we can’t accomplish together.”

“She said it right,” Steve chuckles. “I love her with all of my being. Our marriage has been nothing but great for these past few years. I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

“That’s sweet,” Amy smiles and writes. “Tell me about your relationship with your parents.”

“Both our parents are dead. We don’t have any living relatives,” you answer. 

“To get with the technical questions, why do you want to adopt?”

“I’ve mentioned this before but I’m sterile. I can’t have children on my own. I know Steve wants a family. This is the only way I know how to give it to him. We don’t want to do fostering or a surrogate. We feel like it’s more our style to adopt.”

“What she said,” Steve chuckles.

“If granted the opportunity to adopt, what are your hopes for your child?”

“That they’re a good person,” Steve answers. “That they’ll see someone who needs help and will want to do that for them. Who will love unconditionally.”

“Alright,” Amy writes. “This is everybody’s least favorite section. I’ve done your background checks.” Your heart drops. This is it. This is where she tells you that you can’t adopt. “Now my main concern is your work with Hydra. You are the Vixen.”

“Were,” you correct. “I’m not that person anymore. Yes, I have done a lot of bad things in my life. Things you can’t possibly imagine. That isn’t who I am now. I have healed from that part of me. I got help. I made amends. I got Hydra out of my head. I don’t associate myself with those people anymore.”

“What about Bucky?”

“Bucky is healed, as well,” Steve takes over. “He went to Wakanda and underwent the same thing she did. They’re both trying to move on from their past.”

“That’s all it is, Amy. It’s my past. It’s not my present and it sure as hell isn’t going to be my future.”

Amy goes through more routine questions before she gets ready for the house inspection. You tell her the plans you have for the empty room which will be the nursery. She doesn't say much but she does write a lot of stuff down.

“Thank you for coming,” you say when she is done.

“I’ll be touch.”

As soon as the front door is closed, your smile is lost.

“God, we’re not going to get a kid. Did you see the look on her face when she mentioned Vixen? She knows I’ve killed before. What person would want me to be a mother?”

Steve pulls you close and lets you vent. “We won’t know more for a while. Let’s just try and keep a calm head. Even if she says no, we can try other avenues. We will be parents. You’d be a loving mother.”

And wait you did. For two long weeks. You thought that was their way of telling you that you weren't going to have a kid. Until your phone rang and changed your entire life.

“Hello?” you answer frantically.

“Hi, Y/N? I have some news regarding your adoption application.” You and Steve wait with held breaths. “I am very happy to say you’ve been approved. I can’t wait to work with you.”

“We can get a kid?” you ask tearfully.

“That’s the first part of the process. We have sent in your application to mothers who are looking to put their children up for adoption. If and when they pick you, I will call with the next steps.”

“Thank you so much.” You cry when she hangs up. “We’re getting a kid.”

Steve pulls you in and kisses the top of your head emotionally. You have to wait for a birth mother to pick you so until then, you just have to wait. Most couples wait months or even years to get called, but you get a call from Amy only a couple of days later with a date set to meet a birth mother who chose your application among a few others. You’re nervous as hell because what if she doesn’t pick you? What if she hates you as soon as she meets you?

You get to the office where the meetings are held and wait for Amy and the birth mother to come. Her name is Jessica and she is too young to be having a kid. She is only twenty-three and she doesn't want kids at this age. Maybe when she is older but definitely not now.

Jessica walks in and seems to be about six months pregnant. She just came back from meeting a potential couple, so you straighten up and smooth down your skirt to make yourself look more presentable.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you two. My name is Jessica.”

“Y/N and this is my husband, Steve. Thank you for seeing us.”

“Yeah, I was intrigued when I read about your hobbies and your work with Stark Industries. Did you know Tony?”

“Uh, yeah.” You look at Steve and have a silent conversation through your eyes. If she is going to pick you, she should know exactly who you are. “I hope this doesn’t affect us negatively but he’s Captain America and I’m… Vixen.”

It takes Jessica all of five seconds before she starts crying. This is it. This is where she runs for the hills and gets you blacklisted from ever adopting a child.

“Captain America saved my life,” she sniffles. “I was visiting a friend in Sokovia when Ultron happened. You saved me.” She turns to Amy and wipes her eyes. “I don’t want to see anyone else.” She looks at you with a teary smile. “I can’t think of anyone better to care for my child than you two.”

“I’ll get the paperwork started,” Amy smiles and leaves the room.

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. You’re getting a kid. You’re getting a kid. You’re finally able to start your own family.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fiction #steve rogers fan fiction #steve rogers fan fic #marvel fan fiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fic #marvel fan fic #mcu #marvel fluff #marvel fanfiction #marvel #mcu fanfiction #marvel fiction

[novasintheroom]

024. Found

♡ Pairing - Vash x Reader

♡ Word count - 0.9k

♡ Warnings - none

♡ Description: You've both been keeping track of each other's letters.

Part of the 150 Bullets drabble series on AO3

Part 1 ---- Part 2 ---- Part 3 ---- Part 4 ---- Part 5 (you are here!)

The air sizzles with aroma and spices in the cooling night. It’s been a long first day of travel, and Vash can feel his stomach gnawing at his insides in anticipation. Can you blame him? You’re cooking one of his favorite meals, and he hasn’t had it in near a decade.

He does his best not to hover. You need space to move, and you’ve already slapped his wandering hand away from the sliced sausage twice. So, he putters around camp, unpacking essentials, sleeping bags, feeding your tomas her pellets. She’s small for her kind. She blinks gratefully at him when he offers his canteen of water for a sip.

“There you go,” he murmurs, petting her neck as she drinks. “It’s nice to have some water, huh?” He caps the canteen when she shakes her head, finished. “You’re lucky, you know? Getting to travel with her all this time…makes me a bit jealous.” He lets out a small laugh and gives her a good pat on her side.

“What are you muttering to my bird, Stampede?” You call from the fire, a curious and teasing lilt to your tone.

He smiles, finishing up and heading back. “Just wondering how she’ll taste if I cook her. You’re taking forever with dinner. Ah!” He dodges the bit of sand you kick his way. He warms at your laughter. “What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me.” You retort, settling back down and stirring the meat and sauce in the pan. “It’s almost done. You think after how long you’ve lived you’d have some patience.”

Vash huffs and takes a seat. It’s automatic, his hand reaching to his pocket with your folded and refolded letters in it. The firelight and cool air act like Pavlov effects on him. He pulls one out, then stops and stares at it, wondering how it got there.

You eye him from the side. “What’s that?”

He blinks and clears his throat. “Oh, just…one of your letters.” He acts like he’ll fold it away again but stops. This is weird. How does he play it off? He sees you still and feels a blush creep up his neck. “Must’ve…uh…”

A shuffling draws his attention. You’ve started rifling through your pack. He watches. In a moment, you pull out what looks to be a deep metal box, dented. It squeals when its lid opens on rusty hinges. You pull out a tied pile of letters and show it to him. Tentatively, he takes them from you. He recognizes his handwriting. It’s the letters you’ve kept yourself.

His breath leaves through his nose, and he glances up at you. “You…kept all of them?”

“Of course I did! I loved getting your letters.” Your emphatic reply almost bowls him over. He hadn’t even thought…

Suddenly, he reaches into his pockets again and drags out the letters you’ve written, piling them to his side as the papers come out. All of them are folded and refolded into small squares, trying to take up as little room as he can so he can get more. He’s careful with them; he really should have tied them together like you had, but he was always so busy and always ready to just whip one out and read it…As the letters come out, his ears redden at your gasp.

“Are those…? You kept all of them?” Your eyes shine with something he can’t name.

He pauses and gives you a shy look. “I…really loved getting your letters, too.”

You reach out and take one, gently unfolding it. The paper is worn and torn, the ink faded from weathering what the Humanoid Typhoon goes through daily. Your eyes scan over it, jumping here and there. You laugh at the end. “I always had to take so long to come up with a joke at the end of each one. I’m not gifted in corny jokes like you are.”

Vash snorts and unfolds another letter of yours. “I’m gifted, what can I say,” he mumbles. His eyes can’t read the words in front of him. They’re too drawn to the woman sitting just a few feet away. He watches your expression as you read your letters again, one by one, laughing and remembering what you’ve written. His own lips quirk up. “Hey,” he says, and waits for you to look up, “Where do pirates get their hooks? Secondhand stores.” He drums a beat on his lap and ends with a ‘tss.’

You groan and roll your eyes. “Boo, get off the stage.” You sidle up closer though, reaching for one of his letters and opening it up. “You remember this one? ‘What do you call a sad cup of coffee?’”

“Depresso!” He laughs and grabs at one of your letters, eagerly opening it and looking at the bottom for your joke. “Which is faster, hot or cold?”

You hum for a moment, eyes squinting. “I can’t remember this one. What is it?”

“Hot, because you can catch a cold.”

“Ha! That’s a good one.”

So it goes for the hour and into the night, both of you opening each other’s letters again like new presents and telling bad jokes over dinner. And maybe your fingers brush when you reach for the papers, maybe they linger just a little longer than needed. One thing is for certain – there will be no need for letters again, not while you two are together. Not when you’ve been found again.

#trigun #vash the stampede #trigun stampede #tristamp #writing #vash x reader #vash the stampede x reader #reader insert #self insert #nova writes #trigun x reader #150 bullets

[kirythestitchwitch]

Klaroline WIP Wed - fake sexy lamp au

Okay so like the basic premise of this fic is that Klaus finds out about Elena and in order to keep an eye on his doppelgänger, comes to town before Stefan and fake woos her in the guise of a college student. He just doesn't count on her extremely opinionated best friend Caroline butting her nose into everything and messing with all his plans and getting under his skin.

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

It was astonishing what a thousand years could do to a place. The last time he’d seen the village that would become Mystic Falls, it had been a half burned wreck, a testament to the sins of fathers coming to roost on the sons. Now? 

Well, it was no longer on fire, Klaus thought blandly, looking around the town square. One could term that an improvement. It was disgustingly picturesque in that true Southern Americana way. 

As he flipped through the file folder he’d had liberated from the Sheriff’s file folder drawers by a convenient deputy, he rubbed at his jaw absently, fingers missing the usually present stubble. Going undercover, at his age. The temptation to burn this town to the ground—again—and take his doppelgänger and go simmered pleasantly in his veins, except for that one pesky loophole: the ceremony had to be completed in the birthplace of the doppelgänger. From all accounts, that was Mystic Falls, VA. So here he was, blending in. 

Was this how the average American youth wore their clothes, so ill-fitting? He hadn’t worn anything that hadn’t been tailored for him in the past several centuries that he hadn’t taken in desperation on the run from Mikael. It seemed rather ridiculous to complain of one’s trousers being too tight when your own father figure was trying to stake you through the heart.

Kol had managed it, both the too tight trousers and the complaining. Probably he should have spent the majority of the 80s daggered instead of doing enough cocaine to keep El Padrino in business, but his little brother’s terrible fashion decisions aside, he didn’t think they had ever stooped so low as to buy off the rack. 

The jeans and t-shirt Klaus wore, along with the thin zip-up hoodie, and converse sneakers were designed to make him appear younger. Those, and the addition of a paint smeared backpack slung over one shoulder, seemed to be performing the desired result: before he’d compelled him, the deputy had asked Klaus if he was taking classes at Whitmore. 

Which brought him back to the contents of the folder: the drowning deaths of Grayson and Miranda Gilbert, and the mysterious rescue of Elena Gilbert. It was clear the car accident was just that, an accident, but what flummoxed the good members of the Mystic Falls Police Department was how his Doppelgänger got out of that vehicle. Indeed, she had no memory of having done so.

Where in town, he mused to himself, would I locate the one person who could rip open a car door with their bare hands?  Closing the folder, he slid it under a second folder, flipped it open to see a paper clipped photo of a square-faced young-looking man with green eyes and light brown hair. An odd little brush of memory hit him as the man laughed, an arm around his shoulders, the sound of jazz in his ears, blood and gin mingling in his throat. Blink, and it was just a photo again. 

A shadow fell across the page. “Nik, I’m bored.”

#klaroline wip wed #klaroline #please enjoy sulky moody Klaus #in which Kiry writes Klaus POV and shakes like a wet chihuahua #It will be going back and forth for this fic so y'all will be getting both 'HE'S A SERIAL KILLER' and 'You got me i'm a serial killer' #It's 2am i don't have the energy for tags please just take this fic so i'm not cursed

[iniziare]

/breathes calmly. Tifa—

#[ tifa lockhart. ] she had buried the twinges of guilt beneath the narcissism of self-sacrifice. beneath the belief of 'the greater good'. #[ one day i will go at that water tower scene one line at a time on here rather than in discord. ] #[ and i'll do so coherently and logically. ] #[ touching on the word choice of teenagers-- their physical reactions. these voice actors' performances of these lines. ] #[ gestures-- everything. there is so much here but it infuriates me because so much is overlooked. ] #[ and then i'm asked to look at an analysis and i truly feel like i'm told to walk through a dense set of woods with two lit matches. ] #[ or like twenty. ] #[ i've been listening to a tower; a promise for the last hour after having watched the scene for almost 2 hours on the 2nd monitor. ] #[ feral. /feral/ i am about this scene. square enix is nothing short of incredible at depicting human nature. ] #[ the spot where she chooses to sit; what not seeing his facial expressions is indicative of. ] #[ when we keep in mind that they haven't actually genuinely spoken before that moment-- ] #[ like remember-- nojima specified (i will find this back i swear) that cloud's recollection of even younger tifa... ] #[ going 'are you ignoring me?!' during that flashback? is not a genuine memory. it didn't happen that way. ] #[ can we stop forgetting that cloud is an /unreliable narrator/? ] #[ but any way-- /stop forgetting they don't know each other/. not beyond being familiar faces. ] #[ but even just in the moment. she can't see him and /he can't see her/. ] #[ can we talk about how... her 'sadness' initially isn't just aimed at cloud leaving? she specifically says 'all the guys are--'. ] #[ i can touch on every line but lemme focus on a few here-- cloud's little attempt at getting a reaction from her... ] #[ 'yeah. so i won't be back for a long time.' the cool guy. not only does it fail-- 'guess not'. immediate. no thought. no hesitation. ] #[ and then immediately goes to 'think you'll be in the papers?' ] #[ this is the first moment she smiles. you can see it amidst the blur but you can especially hear it in her voice. her tone brightens. ] #[ she looks up; wistful. and it's still there when the camera focuses on her and she mentions the wish. ] #[ and her phrasing is interesting-- 'and when you're a famous soldier'. that on its own can be seen as just phrasing but... ] #[ the inclusion of 'please? just once'. just once. it's not about cloud in specific. it's about being saved. ] #[ and ALSO; can we talk about how it isn't cloud who talks about SOLDIERs being heroes? ] #[ she talks about a 'hero'. not him. he doesn't mention heroes at all; can we talk about that for a second? ] #[ u g h. tag limit again-- i keep counting. don't mind me. i'm not saying tifa is 'selfish'. but i'm saying tifa is being selfish. ] #[ and that makes her an increeeeeedibly interesting character. but i need people to realize and talk about this? u g h. ] #[ also-- ALSO-- did this scene even happen this way? nOMURA AND NOJIMA?? ]

[zephyrchama]

Paper cuts come when you least expect them. You thought it was pathetic that a mature human such as yourself couldn't even flip a page without slicing their skin open, but old Devildom books were made of the worst paper. Super thin, and sharp like a blade when touched at the wrong angle.

The small distraction sucked you out of the novel you were reading and back into reality. You shut the book and shook your hand, waiting for the pain to run its course. These actions did not go unnoticed.

"Let me see your hand," Satan murmured. He was suddenly looming over your armchair and gently cupping your fingers.

"It's not bad, don't worry." You were more concerned about the book's pages. Satan's collection had a lot of rare and expensive tomes. The novel in your lap looked fine, but how angry would Satan get if a drop of blood spilled onto it? He might not verbally assault you like he would others, but you feared he'd sulk about it for at least a few weeks.

Satan pulled a square cloth from his back pocket. He paused to stare at it. It looked fine. Maybe a little wrinkled, but nothing that should have made him frown. "My handkerchief is dirty."

He roughly shoved it back into the pocket and instead lifted the hem of his shirt, then lightly blotted at your wound with the still-warm fabric.

"Hey! Nooo, that's just going to make your clothes harder to clean later." You went to jerk your arm back, but Satan's gentle hold turned into an iron grip. Those abs weren't just for show. "It's gonna stain! Knock it off. I can lick it or something."

"Oh, good idea." Satan's shirt slid back down as he dropped it and knelt. He rested his elbows on the seat cushion, one on either side of your legs.

"I can do it! I can do it!" You tried to stop him, but he was already seductively dragging his tongue over your fingertip. "Don't even thi-- ahhh, Satan come on!"

There was far more blood rushing through your face than in the tiny little cut. It astounded you how Satan could pull off an embarrassing action so smoothly, without hesitation.

"Are you done yet?" You didn't know if it had been five seconds or five minutes, but you thought it was long enough.

"Mmh." He mercifully stopped, giving your palm a quick peck. "Move over."

The armchair was meant for one, but it was big and cushy. If you scooted to the side it could probably fit two. "Why?"

Satan was already climbing into the space next to you, raising you onto his legs. "I'm gonna make sure it doesn't happen again. I'll read to you."

He leaned back into the chair, pulling you along with him, and curled an arm around your waist to reach the novel. "So, which page were you on?"

#mc has no idea what page they were on. who keeps track of that? satan does. because he's insane (affectionate). #be careful guys this is how you get demon cooties #tw blood #obey me #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #obey me satan x mc #obey me satan x reader #obey me satan #obey me x mc #obey me fluff #obey me imagines #obey me scenarios #omswd #omswd satan #obey me fanfic #obey me drabble #obey me x gender neutral reader #obey me! #obey me! swd

[peachesofteal]

Dead Disco / Chapter 12

Dead Disco masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 2.5k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Explicit sex. Creampie. oral sex - fem receiving. Angst. Crying. So many feelings. Relationship issues. Eating/food issues. Brief suicidal ideation. Toxic behavior. Complicated dynamics. We're getting close to the end. You make a decision

“Knock, knock.” Your coworker hangs on the door frame, fingers clutching a brown paper bag and soda cup. “There’s a truck out front, for lunch. I guess they’re buying every Friday for the rest of the year?”

“Oh, yeah.” You vaguely remember seeing that email. You think.

“Anyway, they’re just wrapping up now and I didn’t see you go down, just wanted to make sure you knew.” She means well, you know she does. She’s always very kind to you, so you smile warmly and nod.

“I did, thanks.” She makes herself scarce after that, vacating your office with another pleasantry, leaving you to stew behind your desk, trying very hard not to look at what you packed yourself this morning, a lackluster sandwich, a cluster of green grapes. The idea of eating turns your stomach, the feeling piling onto the depths of your uneasiness, pushing you to seek comfort.

You can't bring yourself to eat, but you know you have to. You know you should be, aware you cannot survive on the same three half bites of things alone. 

If they were here... 

You glance at your phone.

Stop this. 

You flip it facedown, turning your attention back to your laptop. Focus, you have actual work to do. 

The bath has gone from scalding your skin off hot, to lukewarm too quickly. It urges you to get out, tells you it’s well past time, that if you headed to bed right now, you’d still be able to manage five hours before your alarm went off.

Fat chance. 

Instead, you drain the tub. The porcelain turns to ice within a matter of moments, and you linger in the shiver, languishing in the discomfort, muscles tense, stomach sour. You nearly let yourself rot in it, knees tucked up close, goosebumps long erupted over every square inch of your skin. 

You close your eyes as the tub refills, steaming water rushing out from the tap, slowly covering your feet, then your shins, until it’s deep enough for you to lean back in again, submerging yourself as deep as possible. 

What are they doing right now? Are they working? Are they at home? Do they miss you? Is there someone- 

No. 

You’re not supposed to be… fixating on this. You’re supposed to be taking some time, thinking about what you want, what you think is best for you. This is what you wanted. You decided this. 

You asked for this. 

Why can’t you detangle yourself from them? 

Everything twists and turns inside your brain, spinning together into a murky morass that you can’t make sense of, but it’s nothing compared to the agony in your heart. An infected, weeping, organ that sits heavy inside your chest cavity, now with a giant hole in the middle. 

You don’t even notice when the first drops of water spill over the side, eyes fixed on the ceiling. You picked this rental for the tub. It’s massive, the biggest you’ve ever seen, and the cost to secure it for the entire month was probably more than you could afford on your own, but… it’s not like you haven’t made bad decisions in the past. 

The water sloshes. 

“Fuck.” You flip off the spigot in a hurry and sink back beneath the water, letting it flow over your mouth, your nose. 

You could- 

You could take a deep breath, fill your lungs with water.

You could turn it off. 

You could make everything stop. You could just close your eyes and… rest. 

“Johnny.” You breathe, surprised. Your heart bellows, begs you to fling yourself into his arms, but warning bells go off in the back of your mind, and you chew on your lip. He shouldn’t be here. They agreed. They promised. “What-“

“Ah had to see ye.” What if something has happened? You look him over, but he seems fine. What if something is wrong with Simon?

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong-“

“Then why are you here?” It’s harsh. You cringe at the tone, at how it's so caustic, so careless, and he rubs the back of his neck, shifting unsteadily on his feet. Your resolve starts to melt, turning reticent, falling away into a slick puddle of weak opposition. He’s here. He still loves you. He’s here. 

“I know ‘m not supposed to be doing this.” He mutters, and you nod. “But… we- I miss ye darling, miss ye so much.” His cheeks are red, turning his normally tan skin a deep rogue, and he swallows between breaths. “Are ye alright? Ye look… ye look tired, love.”

“I am tired, Johnny… I’m…”

He steps forward.

You step back.  

It’s like you’re looking in a mirror.

His eyes are rimmed in stress, skin beneath them sallow, and he sags in a way that tells you he hasn’t been sleeping, bones and muscles not doing much except keeping him upright. Tears build behind your eyes, and they burn through the tip of your nose until you can’t hold them back anymore, raw agony in the form of a serrated blade cutting through your sense.

“This isn’t fair.” You cry. “Why are you here? You’re not- you’re not supposed to be here, Johnny.” His face changes, spirals through one hundred different things in the span of a second, half of them you can name. He’s still your Johnny, still the same, and you’ve never felt so homesick in your entire life, eyes stuck on the exposed skin just above his collar.

Johnny.

Your Johnny.

Simon’s Johnny. 

“Please… dinnae cry, darling. I’m sorry, I-“

“You’re so selfish.” You don’t know why you say it. It just comes out, flying from your mouth on its own. His head snaps backwards like you’ve struck him, features shifting into panic.

“No, no I’m sorry-“ A spiral swirls, sucking you in, dragging you under, and you shake your head. 

“Just… just… shut up. Please.” You whisper, fingers stretching out into the space between your bodies, tugging on the edge of his shirt. “Shut up.” The demand has more backbone now, and he blinks, confused. You can feel his heat, warm skin and breath vibrating away from his body into yours, tugging you closer and closer as you’re tipping your head back, heart overflowing with an insane, chaotic mix of emotions. You feel like you could fling yourself off the top of the tallest building in this city, and he’d still find a way to catch you.

He'd always find a way.

They both would.

“Darling-“ He's worried, rife with it, imbued with the sense of a logical man, but you don't care. You can't. You're already on a path, already made a decision, anticipated an outcome. And now... you want it. 

Rules be damned. 

“Kiss me.”

“I understand how you feel.” 

“No you don’t!” You turn your back on him, shaking your head. “You don’t, Simon. You don’t know how it felt to sit there and listen to that doctor call Johnny your HUSBAND! How it was to realize you two are married! It was like… it was like I don’t even exist! Like I’m a footnote, in your story.”" 

"We're not, I told-"

"I know what you said. It doesn't change anything. Married in the eyes of your fucking boss and your entire life is as good as being married." 

“You are not some footnote in our story. You are a part of us, love.” You haul one of the blankets off the back of the couch and try to cram it into the duffel. 

“Darling, we dinnae want ye to leave.” 

“Johnny.” Simon hisses, turning to where the other part of your heart lurks inside the bedroom doorframe. “Don’t talk right now. You’ve done enough.” 

“I’m sorry, I said I was sorry, I wouldnae-“ 

“Stop.” Simon snaps, and Johnny breaks, eyes filling with tears, frustrated fingers tearing into his hair before he stomps off, bathroom door slamming so loud it could rattle the entire flat.

Your head hurts. It throbs, pulse banging around under your skin, and the walls are too close, or too tall, everything is too much. You want to sleep. You want to disappear under a heap of blankets and close your eyes. You don’t want to face this, face either of them. 

You should have just kept walking. Should have stayed outside, shouldn’t have come back. Then you wouldn’t have had to do any of this. 

“Don’t cry.” Simon whispers. “Don’t cry, darling, please. It’s alright.” You hadn’t realized you were crying, but when he steps close, tapping his forehead to yours, strong arms holding you tight to his chest, you feel the wet stain on your cheeks, the heaviness of your lashes. 

“It hurts too much, sometimes.” You whisper, and he nods. 

“I know.” 

“Fuck.” Your mug from breakfast tips over, rolling towards the sink, and you vaguely register the brown trickle of coffee that spills over the side.

“I’ll clean it up,” Johnny’s mouth sucks a mark into your belly, shoving the rest of items that sit next to you away, either to the floor or across the countertop, hiking your knee up in their place. “later. Promise.” He’s still working himself lower, biting and kiss and snarling against your skin, strong, scorching hands spreading your thighs so he can bury his face in your underwear.

“Oh-“

“Darling.” He groans, and you scramble, trying to pull them free, trying to push him closer to where you ache, already wet, desperate and out of your mind. You want him to crawl inside you, stitch himself to your skin and devour you whole.

“Johnny, Johnny.” The world vibrates in a million different colors, and you fist his hair, pushing yourself up to his face.

“I’ve got ye. Gon’ make ye feel good, love.” He does. He does every time, and this is no different, the way his hands cup you, the stroke of his tongue against your clit, the way he buries himself as far as he can, eating your twitching cunt as you lay flat on your back atop your own kitchen counter, begging him to make you come.

Is this wrong? Is it? Are you betraying yourself? Are you betraying him? 

Are you betraying Simon? 

It’s too much. It hurts too much.

You need it turned off. You need your entire brain powered down, need to not think or feel or cry about anything for just a second, for a single second of this almost thirty days.

Johnny moves, teeth nipping at your neck, and you meet his lips with your own, panting against him, holding him in your arms just like you’ve been dreaming about.

“I need you.” You whimper, and he nods, a thumb against your cheek. “Please, I- I want… I want you inside me,” your voice hitches higher, delirious, and insane. “Please, Johnny. Please.” Turn it off, turn it off, turn it-

“C’mere, c’mon, love.” He brings you to the edge of the counter, touching you so sweetly, so gently, like you’re a fragile treasure sort of thing, something to be revered, to be cared for.

You’re none of those things. Not now. Not ever. 

It’s a mess, a tangled, fumbled mess of your mouth and his, your hands and his, clothes, teeth, hair. You claw at his back as he frees his cock, one foot on the corner, spread wide for him, and it takes nearly no time until he’s breaching you, heavy hardness pushing into you halfway, his eyes fluttering shut with a groan.

“Bleedin’ christ.” He takes his time, takes it slow, reintroducing you to a feeling that you could never forget, the pressure of his cock notching against your cervix, the fullness and weight of having him seated inside you. It’s so good, like home, like something you could spend the rest of your life with, or the rest of your life chasing, and you barely register the words he is whispering into the side of your face, spit and sweat and tears all running together.

Something's missing. Something's off. Something is missing, it's missing, it's-

“Move… p-please-“

“F-fuck.” He hisses. “Feel so fuckin’ good, darling. So perfect… missed ye, missed ye so much.” He babbles, pinning your hips in place, tendons in his forearms flexing as he thrusts harder and faster, moving your bodies together. “I love ye, cannae live w’out ye, darling. We cannae do it.” His fingers trace around his cock and then to your clit, where he starts to circle and rub the swollen bud exactly as you like it, muscle memory guiding his touch in just the right way, allowing him to drag you to another impending orgasm, cunt clenching down around him. “Ah fuck, that’s it. Squeezin’ me, ye-“

“Johnny.” You cry, and he kisses you, insistently, deeply, sealing you off from any air that isn’t his own, covering you entirely with his body, grinding his hips.

Your orgasm explodes between the two of you, and he shouts when he feels it, clutching you too tightly, chasing his own with a vigor that makes you stutter. Your legs jolt, closing around him, anchoring him, tying him to you, his body going rigid when he fills you with his cum.

Your kitchen is dead silent except for the echo of ragged breathing, sweat dotted skin and shaky hands still languishing together, aftershocks sizzling through your belly.

"Are ye.. are ye alright?" He kisses you, kisses your cheek, your temple, still holding onto your hand, cock still lodged deep inside of you, his cum leaking out between your legs. 

Are you alright? Are you? 

Your chest feels tight, brain desperately trying to catch up, heart bleeding inside your chest.

"Darling? Hey, look at me." He shifts, cupping your jaw and you blink at him, mouth moving without words. 

You wallow there, in the silence, in the little space that exists in this moment, in the in-between. 

Neither of you speak. He pulls back to cradle your face, and you see the tears again, fat ones that roll down his cheeks, illuminating the brilliant blue blaze of his eyes.

What have you done? 

You stare at each other. Realization starts to form, panic fluttering in the ache between your ribs.

Oh. 

Oh no. 

Oh god, oh what did you do, what did you-

The shrill shriek of his cellphone interrupts, forcing both of you to turn to look at the screen that proudly displays the name of the caller.

Simon. 

#peaches writes #dead disco #john soap mactavish #ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #simon riley #simon ghost riley #john mactavish #soap x ghost x reader #soap x reader #simon riley x reader

[works-of-fanfiction]

Toothbrush || Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: It’s still early days for Lando and the reader, but he’s ready to start seeing more of her.

Song: Toothbrush by DNCE.

Warnings: None, just a wholesome read.

Word Count: 2.3k

a/n: every time I listen to this song, I imagine little fanfic scenarios in my head, so I finally wrote one! I’m a George girl at heart, but I think I’m in my Lando era rn. short but sweet - hope you like it!

With Lando’s arm strewn across your chest and his soft snores in your ear, you didn’t dare to move. Streams of sunlight bled into the room through the gap in the curtains, illuminating his tanned shoulders that poked out of the covers. Pins and needles prickled at your feet as you fought desperately not to leave the bed. He looked so comfortable and he deserved the extra rest after all the busy weekdays preparing for the new season.

You turned your head to catch a full glimpse of his face, his mouth hanging slightly open and eyelids twitching involuntarily. You often wondered what he dreamt about, as you did with anyone who fell asleep in your company. Dreams fascinated you; the weirder the better. Your workdays often started with your colleagues all sharing their wild and wonderful dreams from the night before, with the odd nightmare sprinkled in. If only you had a pound for every time your manager dreamt of losing his teeth…

Your bladder deceived you, the pressure growing the more you tried to ignore it. Sighing, you pushed the covers off your body, careful not to disturb the half that covered the sleeping driver beside you. You shuffled to the right, fingertips gently lowering Lando’s hand onto the pillow, hoping he didn’t stir. The fresh morning air whipped around your bare frame, and you resorted to hugging yourself as you tiptoed into the ensuite.

You moved with caution, tearing the toilet paper slowly and studying the squares as they ripped apart bit by bit. As much as you hated not flushing, you didn’t want to startle the poor guy, so you opted for closing the lid. That too was done carefully, not letting the wooden pieces make a single sound as they touched. You washed your hands quickly, scrubbing them dry on a towel, a comically bright orange towel with the McLaren logo plastered all over it. You’d laughed at it the first time you stayed over, Lando cursing himself for not hiding it before you arrived. You’d wondered where else random pieces of McLaren merchandise were going to pop up. Tea towels? Bed sheets? Branded cereal, perhaps?

On your way back to the bed, you scooped up Lando’s t-shirt from the night before, slipping it on and appreciating the fabric against your skin. It didn’t make a huge difference, but at least it covered the goosebumps scattered across your cold chest. Catching your reflection in the mirror, you combed your fingers through your hair, pushing loose strands out of your eyes. Hearing a rustling in the covers, you turned to see Lando stretching his arms above his head, his eyes still squeezed shut to avoid the morning light.

“Mm… Come back to bed.” He mumbled, propping his hands behind his head like he was laid on a sun lounger. You sat on the bed beside him, resting on your right hip and tucking your legs in to lift your feet off the ground. Feeling the mattress dip, a lazy smile spread across his face as he prized his eyes open halfway. “There you are.” You laid a hand on his chest, smiling down at him before his eyes fluttered closed once again. “Beautiful.”

You exhaled, amused by his compliment. “You can’t even see me.”

“I don’t need to.”

He could be cheesy sometimes, but part of you loved it. You’d always enjoyed making fun of your friends in their honeymoon phases, mimicking their partners and overusing their new nicknames. You’d waited a long time for it to be your turn, so you planned on soaking up every pet name, pick-up line, and spooning session until they grew tired of hearing about it. God knows you’d heard more than your fair share of romantic tales.

All you wanted to do was lie back down beside him and burrow your head beneath his arm, but the grease in your hair and mascara stuck in your tear ducts begged you to go home and shower.

Being in the early stages meant that overstaying your welcome was still a possibility. You had yet to lie in past 10am with Lando, and were always dressed and out of the door before he’d even shed the covers. You’d made a promise to yourself at the start that you wouldn’t let yourself get too attached or seem clingy. Whirlwind relationships always sounded good until they weren’t, and you’d experienced them one too many times to allow it to happen again. Besides, Lando never seemed to argue when you slipped out of bed and left before breakfast. To him, it seemed like you just enjoyed your own space. For the past eight Sundays, you’d detangled yourself from his grasp, thrown on your clothes from the night before and left him with a simple kiss on the cheek, all before he’d even managed to open his eyes properly. Most of those mornings he’d rolled over to your side of the bed, inhaling the traces of your perfume and replaying the events of the evening over and over in his head. One day he’d tell you to stay; he’d hide your keys if it meant he could spend a few more hours in bed with you... What did you like for breakfast? If he ordered pancakes, would you stay and split a plate with him? Was it brown or tomato sauce you had with your bacon?

Lando felt you fidgeting on the bed and rolled over to grab your arm. You looked down in surprise, turning your wrist to take his hand in yours. “What’s wrong?” You asked, his fingers soft and featherlike against your palm, following the lines from left to right.

“What time is it?”

“Um…” You leaned over, checking your phone on the bedside table. “It’s almost 9.30.”

He groaned, slumping forward to rest his head against your arm. You laughed, moving so his head fell into your lap and your hand settled in the top of his hair. Catching a curl around your finger, you studied the tones in his hair and how they each caught the sunlight. Sitting there quiet and content with him made you a little sad, as you didn’t want to leave. Part of you longed for Sundays spent together, movies on the sofa with last night’s leftovers heating up in the microwave. You knew it was a fool’s dream considering he ended up in a new country every weekend. You cursed yourself for following your silly little rule and not taking advantage of the time you did have. In less than a month, he’d be calling you from hotels in the middle of who knows where with bad reception and voices urging him to hurry up and get back to work.

Sighing, you tapped Lando’s shoulder, whispering for him to sit up. “I should get going.” You said hesitantly, forcing yourself to stand.

“Stay. Just a little longer.” He gazed at you with puppy dog eyes, his hair unruly on his forehead and cheeks lined with crease marks from his pillows.

“Look at me, Lando.” You scoffed, waving your hands in front of your face. “I am in serious need of a shower.”

“I have a shower.” He stated obviously, his eyes finally widening to their normal state as he propped himself up against the headboard. “Towels are in the cupboard on the third shelf.”

“I… Lando – “

“Y/N.” He tilted his head, looking at you with raised brows. “You’re allowed to stay and take a shower.”

His words were laced with so much more than what he was saying. He wanted you in his shower, stepping out to wrap yourself in one of his towels with your damp hair leaving droplets on the countertop. He wanted your footprints on the bathmat – hell, he’d even put up with your hair clogging the drains if it meant there were traces of you in his home. He wanted more than just the ghost of you at his kitchen counter or out on the patio.

He kept his eyes on you, watching as you stood up and approached the cupboard, choosing a fluffy blue towel from the shelf. He rolled out of the bed, following you to the bathroom and flicking the extractor fan on above your heads. “Alright. You’ve got the rainfall shower which you turn on by twisting this towards you.” He instructed, trying to hide the smile that was creeping its way onto his face. It was crazy how long he’d waited to show you something so simple.

He turned the rainfall shower on, letting the water heat up for you. “The detachable showerhead is the same, just turn it in the other direction towards the wall.”

He stepped to the side, letting you slip past him. You stood shyly, his shirt still hanging off your body. “Well, I’m not going to shower with you watching!” You laughed, folding your arms and waiting for him to leave.

“Why? It’s nothing I haven’t already seen.” He smirked, mirroring your stance. Your cheeks flushed red at his words, visions of last night swimming around your mind. You needed him to leave the bathroom before you dragged him under the water with you.

He turned to leave, mindlessly adjusting the hand towels on the rack. “I’ll leave some clothes on the bed for you. There’s a spare toothbrush in the cabinet too.”

“Are you saying I have smelly breath?” You gasped, watching as he turned back to face you with the same cheeky grin on his face.

“Oh yes. That is exactly what I’m saying.”

Pulling the shirt over your head, you screwed it into a ball and threw it at him, hitting him square in the face and blocking his view. You turned to face the shower, leaving him with a foggy view of your backside through the textured glass. “Not fair!” He shouted over the running water as you dunked your messy hair beneath the stream.

“Get out, you pervert!”

He left the bathroom laughing to himself, closing the door behind him. He rushed to tidy the room a little, making sure to leave the clothes he promised on the bed. He took the liberty of putting your clothes in the wash with his, hoping you’d be okay with it.

When you surfaced from the bathroom with the towel tucked around your body and a beaming smile on your face, he swore he could feel his heart thumping against his ribcage. “Better?” He asked, sliding the pile of clothes your way.

“Much. Thank you.” You took the clothes, Lando turning away to give you some privacy whilst you changed. “Where should I put the towel?” You asked, giving him the all-clear to look at you.

“Just throw it in the hamper. I’ll sort it later.”

“Oh, I didn’t know where to put the toothbrush so it’s just in the pot beside yours.”

He smiled, looking at you but not saying a word. “What?” You asked, glancing down at yourself then back to him. “What’s wrong?”

Patting the space next to him on the bed, you sat down, pulling your wet hair over one shoulder. “I was thinking…” He started, reaching to grab your hand. Running his fingers over your knuckles, he studied the curiosity on your face as he rehearsed the words in his head. “Why don’t you leave the toothbrush in the pot?”

You didn’t catch on at first, but his words soon made sense as he shuffled closer to you, his thigh pressed against yours. Your face ached from smiling, Lando’s expression perfectly reflecting yours. “It’s convenient, you know?” He played it cool, earning him a playful slap on the chest.

“Yeah, sure! Convenience.” You mocked, leaning into him as he wrapped an arm around you, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“By the way…” He spoke into your ear, his lips brushing against the lobe, tickling you. “I put your clothes in the wash, so you won’t be leaving anytime soon.” He drew back to look at you, surprised to see you still smiling.

“Good job I wasn’t planning on it anyway.” Throwing a leg over his, you straddled his lap and rested your arms around his neck.  He leaned forward, catching your lips with his and kissing you gently. Wet droplets from your hair fell onto his bare shoulder, making him shiver and laugh into the kiss. Pulling away, you swiped the water away with your hand, sliding off his lap and linking your fingers with his. He stood, grabbing the nearest hoodie hanging on the bed post and throwing it over his shoulder as he led you out of the bedroom and towards the stairs.

“So… breakfast?” His voice was muffled as he squeezed the hoodie over his head, stepping cautiously so he didn’t tumble down the stairs.

“Sounds good. What are you in the mood for?”

“I’m easy. I’ll have anything.” He opened the fridge and grabbed a carton of orange juice, turning to find you resting your elbows on the kitchen island. Something about you in his house, in his clothes, made his stomach do somersaults. It quickly became his favourite sight.

Pouring two glasses of juice, he slid one over to you, taking a seat on one of the stools. “How did you sleep by the way?” He asked, sipping his drink and snuggling up to you to rest his chin on your shoulder.

“Pretty good. You?”

“The same… But I did have this really weird dream.”

Your ears perked up at his words and you turned to look at him eagerly. “Tell me all about it.”

#f1 x reader #f1 fics #f1 oneshot #lando norris x reader

[just-mya-writing]

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?” ~ South Park Boys

I was in the middle of writing something completely different when this idea hit me like a metal bat. I will not offer an explanation, but I will make this a series. I’m half sorry

SP boys x gn!reader

Stan

It’s a cold, rainy night and the two of you are lounging lazily on his couch

you were meant to go home a little over two hours ago, but Stan’s car is practically frozen and broke down on the way to work yesterday and you refuse to walk back in the freezing rain

instead, you and your boyfriend were content cuddling together, enjoying each others company

resting on his chest, you could hear his steady heartbeat, lulling you into a sense of security and safety

sighing through your nose, you snuggled up closer to Stan as he tightened his grip around your waist while his other hand scrolled endlessly on YouTube shorts

he’s watching Minecraft videos

looking up at him, you softly break the comfortable silence

“hey Stan...?”

“hm?” he looks away from his phone, the smallest hint of a smile on his lips as he pressed them against the top of your head

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

he’s silent 

stunned

he expected you to say something cute or cheesy, not something a middle school girl would ask her boyfriend 

“...yes.”

“you hesitated” you pointed out, sitting up slightly 

“well. I had, uh, had to...to think about it first”  he stuttered, trying to figure out what you want to hear

“you had to think about if you love me?” you tilted your head to the side, trying to hold back a smile

“I do! I love you, even if you were a worm!” his panicked voice squeaked out, pulling you closer to him so your face was burred in the crock of his neck  

he smiled when he felt you giggle against his skin

“no matter what or where you are, I’ll always love you...you know that” he whispered, running his hand over the back of your head

you didn’t even need to answer him, you both knew the answer

“...my little worm” 

he snickered

well shit

new pet name unlocked

he gets you one of those fuzzy noodle worms on a string for your birthday

your his little worm now

be the best worm you can be

Kyle

he had taken you out to eat 

he wasn’t paying attention when you mentioned you wanted to eat him out but you forgive him

picking up your tray of food, you brought it to the outside table Kyle had spent fifteen minutes picking out, cuz it just had to be perfect

you smiled at the red head as you sat down, picking up his drink and handing it over 

“hey Kyleee...” you started, watching his entire face break out into a smile

“yesss...” he responded in the same sing-song tone of voice, picking up a straw 

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

his smile dropped

a look of confusion took its place

he wrinkled his nose

“the fuck?”

“would you still love me if I was a worm?” you repeated simply, taking a sip of your own drink

“why would you be a worm?” 

you shrugged

“it could happen” you reasoned, hiding your smile behind your cup

“no it can’t, you can’t just randomly turn into a worm” he argued, fiddling with the unopened straw

“I could end up drinking a...worm turning into potion” 

he just looked at you with a deadpan stare

you took a long sip of your drink

“..oh no, I think the café accidentally gave me a worm turning into potion” you gasped, looking between your drink and Kyle

he opened one end of his straw, putting his lips to the exposed plastic tube and blowing, causing the paper wrapped around to hit you squarely in the forehead 

“my poor little worm head...” you pouted, finally causing a snort out of your boyfriend

the rest of your lunch was mostly uneventful, the two of you chatting and people watching

a few hours later, at your house, your taking your sweater out of the dryer

Kyle spilled food on it, he said he’s sorry

Kyle walked up behind you, wrapping his arms around you for a quick hug and kissing your temple 

“...yeah” he muttered before walking away 

“yeah what?” you called after him, confused

“Yeah, I would love you if you were a worm” he smiled before rounding a corner “don’t let it go to your head” he added from down the hall

too late

your ego has been boosted and the smile won’t leave your face

he’d be the best boyfriend a worm could have

Kenny

laughing his ass off

help him

he’s going to choke on his gum and die again

you both were sitting on his bed

but now he’s practically rolling on the floor

his contagious laughter making you struggle to contain your giggles

“aha...wha, what did you...” he took a deep breath, tears nearly forming in his eyes “can you repeat the question?” he finally managed to say 

you took a deep breathe of your own, trying to contain your laughter

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

once again he erupted into a fit of laughter, just like when you first asked him

you’re not sure what you were expecting him to do or say when you asked, but it surely wasn’t a reaction like this

he suddenly stopped, sitting up and looking into your eyes, deathly serious

“I can’t fuck a worm”

now it was your turn to laugh

the laughter that came from the both of you could probably be heard from outside, not helped by the fact that Kenny was making things worse

“wait wait wait...” he shuffled over to you, hands on your shoulders “what if I...hahaha, what if I was a worm too.” he snickered, almost unable to finish his thought. “We’d have hot worm sex!”

you couldn’t even respond to him as his laughter started to mix into him coughing his lungs out, leaning onto you for support

he thought he was so funny

you started to gently rock him back and forth

“Kenny, Kenny, you didn’t answer the question!” you reminded him

“I can’t” he squeaked, voice growing horse 

his arms were now wrapped snugly around your body and you could do nothing but shake your head, running your hand through his fluffy blonde hair

his laughter slowly died down, his head still stuck on your shoulder as he squeezed you

“I dunno, would you love me if I was a worm?” he giggled 

“hmm...no” you joked, earning a little nip on your neck from him in protest

“well that’s unfortunate...cuz I’d love you, even if you were the ugliest worm in the dirt” 

you rolled your eyes

“excuse you, I’d be a hot worm” you smiled

he lifted his head up and kissed your cheek

“I’d make you a little worm house, and sing you little worm songs at night, and carry you around with me in my parka...” he rambled, small ghosts of of kisses being peppered around your face 

“alright, alright I get it” you conceded, feeling your face heat up from the relentless kisses 

“nooo, my perfect partner needs to know that they’d be the perfect worm” 

he’s not letting you go

keeps telling you how he’d care for you if you were a worm

wants to cuddle like worms

its just him laying on top of you

you can’t move

it’s fine

Cartman

“abso-fucking-lutely not”

“Cartman!”

“I barely love you now”

“Cartman.”

“What kind of stupid question is that, dumbass?”

“Eric”

he’s in trouble and he knows it but doesn’t care

he needs you to know how stupid your question was

why a worm?

why would you even be a worm?

why would you ask him in the middle of watching a horror movie?

would saying yes make him some kind of furry?

these are the questions that plague his mind while you’re lecturing him

hope you weren’t expecting him to pay attention

“I’m not even attracted to worms, stupid, I’m attracted to you”

Cartman is a self claimed yousexual

he’s only got the hots for you and you only

no worms allowed

you’re a moronsexual

now actively steps on worms when it rains

no slimy worm in going to steal his partner if he has anything to say about it

Butters

starts tearing up

starts thinking the worst

what if while your cuddling he accidentally crushes you

what if a bird comes and swoops you up while you guys are having a picnic

do worms have lips? could he still kiss you?

maybe he could kiss your little worm head

oh gee how long do worms live for??

his thoughts are swirling and he doesn’t know what to do besides mildly panic

he promises he’ll be the best boyfriend a worm could ask for

he’ll try his best to keep you happy

“oh, please don’t leave me for a hotter, more capable worm”

you’re gonna have to explain it’s a joke before he starts googling ‘what to do when the love of my life turns into a worm’

bless his heart

#south park #south park x reader #stan marsh #stan marsh x reader #kyle brovlofski #kyle broflovski x reader #kenny mccormick #kenny mccormick x reader #eric cartman #eric cartman x reader #southpark butters #butters x reader #stan x reader #kyle x reader #kenny x reader #so many tags #would you still love me if i was a worm

[octuscle]

From tutor to rookie of the year

Hi, my name is Jake. My company has hired me to tutor a few students with poor grades. That's not necessarily the reason why I started working at the auditing company. But first of all, I'm new here and I'm not going to refuse right at the beginning of my career. And secondly, becoming a teacher had actually been an option for me. Maybe it's fate now or something.

The first lesson gets off to a very promising start. I almost have to tear myself apart to leave your office and get to school on time. But when I arrive, there is a yawning emptiness in the classroom. Only after fifteen minutes I hear noise in the corridor and a couple of football jocks barge in the door. A few still in football gear. And all obviously unshowered after training. Phew, it stinks. And as I look into the handsome, square-cut faces of the boys spraying with testosterone, I'm suddenly back at school. The small, clever but shy boy who, at best, the stars of the football team overlook and, at worst, stuff into the toilet. I clear my throat and say that I'm not here for fun either and that I'm asking for some attention. The boys barely react. Damn it, it's not my problem. I explain a few linear algebra problems on the blackboard and ignore the paper airplanes. I have my school-leaving certificate. I have my master's degree. And my bonus doesn't depend on the grades of these idiots. At least I hope so.

After the debacle of the first tutoring session, my appetite for the second is very dampened. But it was already hard enough to get this internship. The firm is one of the most prestigious accountancy firms in the city. And if my pro bono job as an intern is tutoring the idiots on the football team twice a week, I'll survive. Apart from the 60 hours a week in which I have to pore over balance sheets, that doesn't matter any more.

These days, the musclemen are even on time. And somehow nicer than last time. They even ask me reasonably sensible questions like whether you can predict the trajectories of footballs. I take this as an opportunity to tell them something about vector calculus. They collapse with laughter. "Bro, I was joking. And football isn't math. Football is strength and speed." I'm about to take a breath and say something about Newton and the relationship between force and speed. But instead of listening to me, the jocks start bragging to each other about their heroic stories on the field. And I can't help but listen to them spellbound. When the lesson is over, I look after them with fascination. I wish I could have been more like them at school.

Shit, because I'm the only nerd on the senior team who isn't a complete failure at sports, Coach made me give math tutoring to the football team. He thinks the Meatheads might have a little bit of respect for me. Shit! Them for me? I for them might be more correct! The thought of explaining math to my secret crush forms a wet spot in my Calvin Klein shorts.

I expected the boys to keep me waiting. If they were also punctual and disciplined off the pitch, they wouldn't need any help. And I don't want to tutor them any more than they want to be tutored. We reach a compromise. You listen to my math tutoring for half an hour. And then we'll go out onto the pitch for half an hour and play a bit of football. God knows I'm not unsportsmanlike. But soccer has somehow never been my sport. I'm more of a swimming pool or gym kind of guy. Team sports? Not really.

Shit, yeah, I'm no rocket scientist in math. But I have quite good grades in English and history. I'm not going to fail this year. Why the fuck do I have to go to tutoring with the other bros from the football team? I have no idea. But seriously, the tutor is a total loser. A beanpole in a stuffy shirt. The idiot even wears a tie. Seriously, who wears a tie these days? If I had to wear a tie, I'd change jobs. Or if I had to shower after training. Shit, these are just rules that can come from old fat men. Bros like me and my bros smell like test… Testo… Well that hormone stuff. Sweat, musk and Axe. If I didn't have to go straight to detention again, I'd let the loser smell my armpits… But I'm a sophomore on the team right now. Let the juniors and seniors do that.

"Jack, bro!" This is Chuck. The QB on the team. I can tell by his voice. And by his smell. And I'd also know it by the taste of his cheesy boner…. But he stays locked in his jockstrap cage right now. What a damn shame! "Bro, where were you in tutoring? The dean was there. You're in fucking trouble!" Shit, tutoring! I was at the gym. The other guys are all so pumped. I don't want to lag behind any longer. "Shit, dude, we said you were in the bathroom. The loser tutor didn't dare contradict us. But I think you have to let him suck you off so he doesn't tell on you." Hehehehehe, I like that idea. There are still 40 minutes until football practice… And I haven't cum yet today. "Is the loser still in the classroom?" I ask. Chuck nods. I fist bump him and say that I'll sort it out quickly.

If Chuck and Matt go to college next year, I have a good chance to be the QB. But until then I still have to build up a lot of mass. Those two are just in a whole different league. And I'm damn jealous of the hair on Matt's chest. You should see the bush under his arms. Dude, the man is going to be a fucking gorilla! Shit, I'm not half the man those two are. You can tell immediately by the size of the bulge in our compression shorts. Nevertheless, neither of them mind if I fuck them. But they like fucking me even more. Without eye contact. Otherwise it would be totally homo!

We skipped tutoring again today. Coch covers for us while we're in the gym or doing our laps on the cinder track outside. Nevertheless, it's still up in the air whether Chuck and Matt will be at college next year. And whether I'll be a junior by then. But screw it, NFL pros don't need to know math.

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #age reduction #jock tf #nerd to jock #football jock #ai image

[mitsies]

PASS IT FORWARD ! ; itoshi rin > rin is only the jealous type when it comes to you.

it’s safe to say you’re a little bit annoyed.

you’ve been best friends with itoshi rin for the longest time– years, at this point– and you think it’s time to end your little streak because he’s seriously pissing you off. the both of you are in class right now, and your teacher, an elderly woman with a fierce temper is yammering about geography or whatnot. there’s a test the following week so you’re really trying your damndest to focus on the gibberish she spews, but it’s proving exceedingly difficult when rin won’t stop bugging you.

every two seconds, it seems, he’s sliding another light yellow sticky note with irrelevant and unimportant messages scrawled onto them. the content is stupid, simply saying things like ‘nice weather outside’ even though it was raining outside and ‘what was the math homework’ despite the fact that he’d quite literally given the answers to you an hour earlier at your lunch break.

it’s getting to be a problem. the pile is mounting on your desk– it’s a blend of pale yellow, lime green, and neon pink squares of paper, one that is growing difficult to conceal beneath your notebook. you give rin, who has the desk next to you, a dirty look to try and get him to stop. he reaches over and places another sticky note on your desk. this one is electric blue and says ‘what class do you have after this.’ it’s the last period of the day.

you open your mouth to whisper something, to maybe tell rin to stop or ask him why the hell he’s being so strange, when you catch your teacher’s eyes. she levels you with a withering glare and you snap your mouth closed. if she were to catch the two of you talking, let alone passing notes, you’d surely be sent to detention after school. and you really, really couldn’t risk that– not today of all days. because today, you’ve got a date. 

a tiny smile cracks your face as you grow giddy at simply the prospect– you had a date. today. in an hour. with a person. rin slides another sticky note onto your desk and it snaps you out of your stupor– you send him another look. he is infuriatingly neutral as you return your gaze to the teacher. rin should know better than to risk detention today, especially when you’d been chatting his ears off about this date all week. he’d always replied with his typical placidity and blunt, harsh remarks. he called the guy’s forehead big and told you that you could probably do better, to which you’d rolled your eyes and asked when he was going to get a date. rin didn’t respond to that.

you’d assumed he had nothing left to say, which was decidedly proven false, now, with how many damn sticky notes he kept passing you. you furtively look around before whipping out your phone and shooting him a text:

you: what the fuck r u doing. stop omg i cant miss my date u know this

you: are u like trying to get me in trouble

and he leaves you on read. you look at him, and he’s staring at you. ‘what,’ you mouth, but he just blinks. there’s another sticky note on his finger. he looks at you and then the teacher– you follow his eyes. she’s looking at the class. you and rin are in plain sight. rin looks back at you and you meet his eyes. desperately, but as subtly as you can, you shake your head because you know what he’s about to do– like when a cat just sits and stares at a glass at the edge of a countertop. it feels like a slow-motion video as rin reaches out, sticky note in hand, and you hear your teacher’s ruler smack against the wall with a force you never thought a little old lady could muster.

“the two of you,” she practically bellows, flashing her ruler like a sword in the both of your faces, “detention! after school. this room for an hour.”

she turns back to the board and you unfreeze, slumping back into your seat and running your cold fingertips across your face. frustration bubbles inside you and you let out a breath sharply, pulling your phone out underneath your desk to shoot your date a quick message to cancel last minute. you refused to look at rin, letting your furious thoughts brew like a storm. what had gotten into him? why was he practically sabotaging you? 

you don’t spare him a glance until everyone else walks out the classroom, to irate to bother. your date had been gracious and offered his condolences, and you felt immensely guilty for canceling so last minute, as well as angry at your best friend. the room was basically empty, now, save for you and him. the teacher leaves, stating that the school personnel who’d be watching over the both of you would be here shortly. you sideeye rin.

“nice work.” your words are sharp and serrated and he flinches, a reaction you’ve never seen from him. you blink and turn to face him. he doesn’t say a word, so you ask, “what the hell was that for?”

he can’t meet your eye, and just shrugs, “dunno.”

you’re usually a lot nicer to him– or, at least, when you’re mean it’s always in a joking-besties-i-love-you way. but you lack your typical kindness as you narrow your eyes at him and snark, “if i didn’t know better, i’d think that was on purpose. good thing i know better, right?”

it’s a challenge, and he knows it. you’re asking him if he meant to get you into detention, if he meant to force you to cancel on your date. and his silence is the only response you need.

you groan as you tip your head back to the fluorescent lights and close your yes, pinching the bridge of your nose. “what the fuck, rin? why would you do that?”

he doesn’t reply again and you sit back up, pulling your leg onto your chair and glaring at him. “well? don’t tell me you suddenly have nothing to say. what happened to all the things you had to say to me?”

again, he winces at your bittered tone. a tinge of guilt makes itself apparent in your chest and you turn your head away, to face the window. rain kisses the glass and your eyes track little droplets in their journey down the pane as if they’re race horses. it’s a minute of pure silence before rin speaks: “i didn’t want you to go out with him.”

you snort a laugh and don’t bother looking at him. his voice is small and maybe you’d feel worse for him if you still weren’t kind of miffed. “that much was obvious, i think.”

“you deserved better.” he’s more firm in this statement, like he believes it more. at this, you turn your head and meet his eyes. “but he liked me. he actually liked me. is that not good enough?”

rin looks genuinely mad, moreso than usual, as he returns your scowl. “he’s not fucking special.”

you blink. he blinks. “what?” you ask. rin keeps staring awkwardly, before putting his head down on the desk. “oh my god, stop brooding. what did you just say?”

“nothing,” his voice is muffled by his arms and you stand, chair scraping the floor as it’s moved by your actions. moving over to the side of his desk, you poke his arm. your best friend looks up and his face is pink as he glowers at you. 

a beat passes and he’s about to bury his face in his arms on the desk again but you speak: “what do you mean, ‘he’s not special?’”

rin’s teeth click together as he stares you down. you’d be a little intimidated if you weren’t so familiar with him. “you implied there’s someone else who likes me.”

“okay.”

“so tell me who.”

“no.”

your eyes light up and rin groans– he knows he’s made a mistake now. “so there is someone.”

“okay.”

“stop okay-ing me. who? do i know them?” it’s almost as if your previous gripes are forgotten, just like that, or maybe you just couldn’t be mad at him for too long. as was your friendship with itoshi rin– easy, easier than most things have come to him. you look around the room, checking for the teacher, before hopping up to sit on his desk, effectively shoving him off and preventing further moping. 

maybe that’s one of the reasons rin fell for you. you could be as headstrong as he was, and your personalities just clicked. you made him better, he thinks. you make him soft around the edges, and you make him fuzzy like a mango seed and warm like a spring-turned-summer day. maybe that’s why itoshi rin couldn’t stand it when you had a date with another person. he let his envy get the better of him and acted before he spoke, because he was stupid and headstrong and dumb like you, because you’ve been rubbing off on him. 

he was your best friend. he had been for years. and he wanted more, more with you. the sticky-notes were his last resort. he wasn’t planning on telling you anything, but his words tripped out of his mouth and now he was here.

“are they on your team? are they tall?”

you kick your legs in the air and your heels click against the silver legs of the desk. rin watches. you tilt your head at him, “how close am i?”

“close,” he mutters, trying to find a place to look that isn’t your legs or your face. closer than he’d like to admit.

“isagi? oh, but he’s not very tall,” you muse. and he can’t take it anymore. he can’t, not when you had a date with someone else today, not when you’re listing off guys who could like you, guys who you could like back, guys who were not him. he can’t do this, watching you slip between his fingers and into someone else’s hands. you’re still sitting on his desk when he says, “it’s you.”

“it’s me? like.. are you saying that i like me? i don’t think crushes work like that.”

he shakes his head, letting out a breath, and looking up at you, “no, no. it’s me.”

“you.. like me?”

rin nods and he’s suddenly so tense and his mouth is dry and he feels sick to his stomach, but he keeps going because he needs you to know, and his hand migrates to your thigh as your skin sparks a fire inside his ribcage. “no one else. none of my teammates. it’s me. i like you.”

he sounds angry still, especially so  when he mentions his teammates, and it’s as if he’s clarifying that no one else deserves you, that you’re perfect for him and just him. you stare at him. he’s looking at you. regret sets in: what did he just say? why did he say that? oh, that was embarrassing. oh, you’re going to say no. oh, you’re going to leave forever.

and then you smile. and you laugh. “i wish you’d just said that.”

he doesn’t miss the heat beneath your skin, and he doesn’t miss the way you spin a lock of hair around your fingers and give him the most bashful expression he’s seen you wear. and he’s proud, suddenly, because he did that. not the guy you had a date with, not one of his teammates, not anyone else– he did that.

you look around the room. “the teacher’s not coming, i don’t think.”

rin follows your gaze– it’s very possible that the teacher might just be late. but he’s not about to pass this opportunity. “you’re right.”

“i say we get outta here, then. i was promised a date today, right? i’d rather it be with you.”

rin’s heart stalls, and then stops, and then sprints a fucking marathon in his chest. you grin at him, and he gives you a half-smile as you take his hand off your thigh and hop off the desk, keeping him in your grasp. you move to take your schoolbag in your hands, but he beats you to it, picking it up along with his own. 

“that sounds perfect,” he manages to get out, “that sounds good.”

✄ this was written for the mitsies 3k follower event using the prompt 'they get you both in detention because they were passing you notes on purpose so you miss your date with someone else'

[⇥3K EVENT MASTERLIST] [⇥3K EVENT INFO]

#itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock #bllk #bllk rin #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi #itoshi x reader #reader insert #mitsies 3k

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hi ♥️ can I please request a small snippet which starts with the hero offering themselves to the villain instead of another victim (which was the intention of villain all along). I really love the powerful villain - struggling hero dynamic. Doesn’t need to be in a romantic way…

Sorry if this is oddly specific. Thank you so much for all your stories and snippets so far. They’re sooo good!!! ✨

The hero dodged into the villain's path.

The villain stopped. They looked down, at the hero's palms planted firmly on their chest, then to the hero's eyes.

The hero gulped. They dropped their hands, but didn't step aside.

"Take me instead."

"You." Power crackled off the villain; enough to make the hair on the hero's arms stand on end.

"I'm more valuable," the hero said, holding the villain's gaze. Their heart drummed wildly. "People would pay an awful lot of money for a go at me - you don't need them. I'm a much better ransom."

"And if I don't take you?" the villain asked.

"I'm also more fun."

The villain's lip curled. "And if I don't take you?"

Well, then they would have to fight. The hero was not remotely looking forward to that prospect. It wasn't that they couldn't hold their own - they knew perfectly well that they were generally considered one of the few people who could, when it came to the dazzling monstrosity before them. But, well.

The hero gulped again, squaring their shoulders. Their hands shot, gently, gently, to the villain's chest when the villain began to sidestep them.

The villain's head tilted.

The hero didn't drop their hands that time.

The villain's heartbeat was perfectly steady.

"I'm offering," the hero said.

The curl of the villain's lip sharped a fraction more; a scrap of paper burning up on a fire, containing all the world's most dangerous secrets. "Is that what you're doing right now?"

"Please," the hero said, quieter, just for the two of them.

"Maybe I don't want to ransom you," the villain said, in the same intimate murmur. Their eyes glittered in the city lights. "Maybe I'd rather keep you all to myself."

The hero's stomach swooped. "Just leave them alone."

"You're a predictable little thing, you know that?"

Realisation hit the hero, like the loud click of a lock turning. It didn't make any difference though. Wasn't that the point? To see the trap closing. To stand there anyway. It was already too late.

The hero had known that the villain could be persuaded to take them instead. The villain had known they would offer.

"So are you," the hero said, mouth dry. "In your way."

"My predictability doesn't make me lose." The villain's hand rose up, to cradle the hero's jaw. Their thumb grazed over the hero's skittering pulse. "It doesn't make me so reckless."

The hero shivered.

"There are power-blocking cuffs in my pocket," the villain said. "Take them out."

"You promise you'll leave everyone else alone?"

"You trust me to keep my promises?"

Yes. Not because of any particular honour, but because one did not get the devil's reputation for threats and bargains without proper follow through. "Promise me. Please."

"I promise that I'll leave them alone in this matter if I can have you instead."

It didn't save everyone and everything, the hero knew that. But it would spare the poor fool cowering behind them, braced for the end of all things. They reached into the villain's pocket like one might reach into a nest of vipers.

"Put them on," the villain said.

The hero did. Everything went muffled and sluggish as the auto-lock engaged. The villain's grip on their jaw kept them from crumbling, pitching forward, at the wave of overwhelming weakness that flooded them.

They could vaguely hear gasps, cries of alarm, hissed whispers behind them. Someone might have screamed 'no.' Someone might have been held back. The hero wasn't sure; they could feel their vision tunnelling a little at the edges.

They still held the villain's gaze.

"Good," the villain murmured. They pressed a kiss to the hero's forehead. Then they let go, abruptly.

The hero staggered. They hit their knees with a groan.

Powerless. It struck them that they'd made a terrible mistake. They hadn't expected it to feel like that.

The villain surveyed the crowd, for a beat. They said something - the hero's ears were ringing, they weren't sure what it was. The villain's fingers tangled idly into the hero's hair, then they started walking.

Being dragged hurt. The humiliation of it would have surely hurt, too, if the hero could concentrate on it.

The villain's car beeped it as it unlocked. They let go of the hero's hair. The hero slumped to the ground, reeling.

"Get in the car," the villain said. "Or I'll put you in the boot."

It seemed to take Herculean effort to climb into the passenger seat. It was almost a relief to slump there, sweat beading their forehead, body aching.

The villain got in too, on the driver's side. They took a moment to look the hero over. The power of them had always seemed enormous, but it felt like something else entirely then without the hero's own to match it. A devastating, crushing weight. An unstoppable force.

The villain reached over and clipped the hero's seatbelt in place. They cupped the hero's cheek again, drawing their attention, their scattershot focus.

"Leaving them alone was the least of the promises you should have insisted on," the villain said. "You panicked. You should know better."

The hero groaned again. Their head lilted into the soothing cup of the villain's fingers.

The villain let go, once more, left them bereft, and started the car.

They drove.

#heroes and villains #villains and heroes #hero #villain #writing #story #short story #writing snippet #creative writing

[rhinestonz]

☆ FUCK HIM UP ☆

“Poor lil Choso ~”

You knew you’d be saying that line one day. From the moment you saw the half dead looking man. You’d see him in the corner of the class. Secluded and alone. You see the way any girl would make his pale skin turn pink. When you were partnered up for a project and you saw the reddish pink that lay around his eyes you couldn’t help but vow until you made those tired eyes cry.

“Chosooo~” you mewled out as you two sat. The library was quiet , optimal for work, but you two weren’t trying to work. He was busy trying to calm down his nervousness and you were busy making him nervous. You rested your head in your hands, elbows on the table framing your tits in your red low cut shirt. You pouted , he couldn’t even look at you “ Choso ,  we’re working together , you can’t just look down at your book all day. The ink haired boy continued to fiddle with his pen , eyes tracing the paper on the table. You’d be lying if he wasn’t pissing you off a bit. At the same time , it was turning you on. So shy he couldn’t even look at you. You had to push him to the edge. 

You smirked as you stood up , brown skirt swooshing in the direction your hips moved as you circled around the table to him. You lifted his chin to look at you , you felt his jaw clench. “ Do you not like me?” You pouted . The boy looked up at you , eying your tits. “ n-no it’s not that “ he stuttered, starting to look down but you just guided his face back up. “ Then what is it Cho?” You coed. You bent down giving him a better view of your tits as they clearly wanted to spill from the square cut of your shirt. “ Can I call you that ? Cho ~?” Choso could feel himself pulsing in his gray sweats, your voice just did things to him. “ I just don’t know you that well” he mumbled, looking down and playing with his fingers.  Maybe you were just a sick bitch but his demeanor, fuck it turned you on. You faked innocence and smiled in his face “ well then let’s get to know each other!”

☆ Getting Choso to your home was easy. He was so compliant it only took one ask. However, acting like seeing him nervously tapping his cup and not daring to gaze at you didn’t make you wanna suck him off till he cried, was hard. “So.. um .. What's your favorite.. color “ you could hear him gulp. “ hmmm, maybe red , like the color around your eyes, that’s so fucking hot” you weren’t here to play games. “I um , I “ he stammered as you walked to him cupping his face. Watching his eyes widen as you ran your hands down in. From his face to his neck to his chest to his thighs. Stopping as you were on your knees pulling at his sweats. “ I wanna fuck your pretty ass so bad” you sighed. He couldn’t even dwell in his shock as he twitched. Seeing your hands stroke his cock through his sweats. “ uh I um , fuck “ hearing him try to process the situation made you chuckle a bit. Pulling his pants down and seeing his dick his tummy. The shade of his cheeks matching his eyes. It’s like his stammers never ended. Music to your ears as they turned into whimpers , your warm tongue swirling his tip as your lips swallowed him. It’s just like he couldn’t even process. His hands up, scared to touch you.  But they quickly latched to your hair as you took him all the way down. Nose touching his stomach. The sound of his choked out groan going straight to your cunt. You wanted to fuck him up , be messy. As his dick fell out your mouth with a pop , so did his fluids you made sure to smear it all over. Spreading the mess with your touch on his stomach before drooling and sucking his balls, gripping his shaft what you were at it. “ Ah fuck y/n , please , I can-“ His whimpers continued. small jerks , and exasperated pants fueled you even more. But it wasn’t until you looked up at him for the first time in a while that the satisfaction of your efforts hit. His eyes teary , red  even  looking down at you begging awaiting your next move. That’s when you said those words you had always wanted to say. “ awww~ poor lil Choso “. You squeezed his girth. “ poor lil Choso can’t even take a blow job~” you teased, starting a slow pace up and down his cock. “ poor lil Cho , feel embarrassed by your own cum? “ your hand sped up , and you periodically placed small licks to his red tip. You faked curiosity , watching the boy cover his mouth , eyes closing shut, pushing out tears as he threw his head back. “ poor fucking Cho , can’t even look me in the eyes while I make him feel good ?” You pouted “ so disrespectful, gotta teach you some manners huh lil boy ?” You said , placing a flick to his tip. He jolted forward , crying out a bit from the sting. He sniffled as you got up , smearing his mess on his face. You watched his cock twitch “ lil humiliation slut “ you tsked. “ ima teach you to be obedient” you said signaling him to pull your skirt up. He looked away from you as he complied. “ Choso,” you grabbed his face , nails digging into it “ look away from me again and I swear I’ll milk you dry.” You threatened. He brought his shy eyes to you “ just , just too hard for me “ he huffed out. He whimpered as you lowered yourself onto him. Taking his cock into your walls making sure he felt a poverty grove. You finally knew what pussy drunk looked like and he barely had you. His eyes looking up into the sky as if asking for a deity , his mouth agape , tears failing. His hands hovered over your hips , shaking , too scared to grip him. You told him to , and it’s like he had never touched flesh before. His hands felt good on you though. “ Oh I know it's hard for you Cho~” you coed. Starting to bounce on him , up and down watching his face intently. Just watching tears fall. Wrapping your arms around his neck. Dirty talking to him all the way.

 “ You like this ? Of course you do lil boy” 

“Does it feel good ?” 

“ you wanna stay like this forever don't you “

“ I can feel your lil virgin dick twitch inside me “ 

“ not used to this, are you baby ?” 

You didn't hear a single moan until now, your legs wrapped around him, your cunt clenching him. You felt his warm cum paint your walls white. You looked at his face red , eyes glossy and half lidded, lips almost smoking from his futile attempts to be quiet. You watched as he squeezed your hips letting out a long raspy “ oh fuckkkkkkk~”. You pull off of him, making him watch himself leak. Making him watch his cuz drip from your cunt.  “ See baby ? This is what you get when you listen” you don’t even think he was listening. You just were glad you got the chance to make poor Choso cry from feeling good. Shit , maybe you’d keep him around.

#jjk smut #jjk #jjk x reader #choso kamo #jjk choso #choso x reader #choso smut #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso kamo smut #kamo choso #kamo choso smut #kamo choso x reader #kamo choso x you #kamo choso x y/n #choso #choso my beloved #jujutsu choso #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #choso jujutsu kaisen

[briefalpacashark]

~Charades~

You play charades with the 141 lads.

“We should play charades,” it was a small suggestion, half-jokingly. You were locked up in a random corner of the world were Wi-Fi, and entertainment was scarce. 

The boys had agreed. 

You and Soap offered to be the smaller team if you could work together.

Worst mistake of the boy's life. You had all chucked in bets and items you had brought on deployment. Sweet foods, beers, money and even an unfinished sudoku was on the line. 

You all threw pieces of paper with random things written on them into a hat which you would draw from. Both teams tried to write items that only their team would know.

It didn't help the other team in the slightest.

You each had one minute to guess the most items. First it was the other teams go. They got a few and stumbled over a questionably worded one.

Then it was your and Soap's time to shine.

Soap opted to be the charader and you the guesser. Soap shook out his body cracking his neck as he got ready. Your expression were deathly serious as you readjusted in the seat moving forward to place your wight on your knees.

“They are way to serious for this,” Gaz grinned at the others.

“Shut up,” you snapped.

“Alright ready? Start!” Price stated the timer.

“Bacon,

Cigars

Rocket launcher

Swiss cheese

Fucking BRITS!

Laswell!

Highland cow!

FLUFFERNUTTER!

Bruce Springsteen!

Parsnips! NO! BUSELSPROUTS!

PRICE!” in a rapid-fire succession Soap shot out barely one movement before you guessed it.

“Time!” Price announced. In excitement you stood, pumped full of adrenalin.

“FUCK THE BRITS!” Soap exclaimed in excitement.

“FUCKEN OATH!” you yelled as you clasped hands before chest bumping.

“How the hell did they do that?” Gaz asked as bewildered as the others.

“They cheated,” Ghost shrugged.

“Fuck off,” you grinned.

“I don't know. That seemed mighty specious,” Price shrugged.

“You lot don't understand. The lass and I have a connection. Synced at the mind,” Soap explained half serious tapping his temple.

“Of course they wouldn't understand. They're British,” you said patting Soaps shoulder, shaking you head like you had just heard some difficult news.

“There is no way you didnt cheat,” Gaz shock his head.

“Oh you dont belive us do you?” You asked.

“How about this. I've got one more. It hasn't been written down so there no way she could have known it. If she gets it in under a second you all have to admit we won fair and square,” Soap proposed the idea. The lads looked at each other. It was a worthy gamble. 

“Fine,” Price nodded.

You got ready once again Soap rubbing his hands together as you prepared yourself. You propped yourself on your knees as you stared at him.

“You fuckers watching?’ Soap asked.

“We're watching,” Gaz said.

“Good cause your about to see some real fucking magic,” you stated.

“Alright Price count us down,” Soap ordered.

“3, 2, 1,” Price said. Soap rose to his full height, holding both his hands up in ok sighs. His eyebrows raised, and he blew his cheeks out with a huff.

“SIMONS ASS!” You screamed at the top of your lungs. 

Let's just say you guys won.

================================================

--COD Master List Here--

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#141 x reader #141 x you #cod 141 #cod ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #task force 141 #tf 141 #simon riley x reader

[merakiui]

Helloooo! I’d like to order a flower bouquet + strawberry ice cream from the misc. menu as well as some lemon squares + custard donuts from the midnight menu for Scaramouche <3

yandere!scaramouche x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, dub-con, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, friends with benefits, forced pregnancy/baby-trapping (no pronouns; reader has a pussy), modern college au note - thank you for checking in, dearest guest! enjoy your order! [lunar love hotel]

You’re writing a paper.

Sitting at your desk, scrolling through clothes online, you wonder if your meager paycheck will cover the shipping costs. This is all research. Research that is very necessary in the paper-drafting process, of course! You click on an outfit just as Scaramouche looks up from his phone.

Correction. You’re trying to write a paper.

“Great progress. I can really see the thought you put into this.”

“I’m envisioning it as we speak.”

“Yeah? Doesn’t seem to be getting you anywhere.” He sets his phone down and leans closer. “Last I checked you’re not writing about clothes.”

“Last I checked,” you say, mocking him, “I didn’t ask for commentary. Don’t you have anything better to do?” 

A smug smile sharpens on his face. “I can think of a few things.”

Groaning, you shove him away. “No way. Not today.”

“Why not? It didn’t seem to bother you that last time when we did it before your lecture. You were so out of it you didn’t want me to leave you alone. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“Not my fault I was tired! Don’t tell me you’ve never said and done stupid things when you’re running on three hours of sleep.”

“Not once,” he declares, looking quite proud. As if it’s some grand achievement. Does he want an award? “And even if I was, I wouldn’t be reduced to sugary, sappy putty.”

“I called you ‘sweetheart’ once by mistake. Get over it.”

Scaramouche rests his elbow on the desk, his cheek in his hand. “I don’t think I want to.”

Shutting your laptop, you turn in your chair to face him. “And I don’t think I want to fuck you today.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Oh, you’re gonna do all the work?”

“That’s the plan. Be grateful I’m so good to you,” he teases, leaning closer and closer until—

You block your lips before he can capture them. “I really can’t today. Paper aside, I don’t have any protection and I’m not on birth control right now.”

“It doesn’t have to be inside.” He sits back in his chair, exuding casual confidence. “Unless you want to risk it.”

You try to put enough ice in your glare, but it melts quickly. You really shouldn’t. It’s not a safe day. You really, really shouldn’t…

Scaramouche raises a brow, waiting for your reply.

Despite everything, you’re wheedled into it anyway. You’re not even sure what you want. Is it yes or no? It’s been months since you fell into this arrangement with him—the campus’s infamous lone wolf who goes out of his way to make himself unapproachable. Or, according to your friends, he’s more of a lonely stray cat in need of a friend. Scaramouche had scoffed when you told him that.

Your friends are idiots, he said with a scowl. It only made him look even more like a grumpy cat in need of companionship. Not that you’d ever tell him that. It would only serve to stoke the flames of his ire.

But right now, looking up at him while he ruts into you, sweat sticking in all the right places, his hair falling over his eyes, you’re inclined to agree with that observation. There’s a depth to his gaze that draws you in, a sad glimmer hiding behind the ardor. There’s never been any attachment outside of the bedroom. You’re not even sure if he considers you a friend.

Still, you wonder…

“Scara, do you—” You cut yourself off with a startled gasp, your nails curling into his shoulders. He’s holding you down by your hips, fucking into you like the world’s about to end. “S-Slow down. Wait, I—aah—oh!”

He sucks in a staggered breath through grit teeth, his jaw set firmly. “You’re never going to leave me.”

Your brain stalls out, and suddenly you’re not sure how to respond. He doesn’t lessen the brutal pace at which he thrusts, so you’re forced to piece together a half-coherent answer amidst your groans.

“N-Not anytime soon—mmh… Why? What’s up?”

Scaramouche lifts his head from your neck. A strange smile turns the corners of his lips up. “It’s not a question. I wasn’t giving you a choice.”

You blink back at him, lust-drunk and dazed. The horror edges in, slow and steady like invasive rot. It isn’t until he’s pinning your legs up by your ears to force you into another position that the implication finally catches up to you. You claw at his back with weak strokes, babbling futile protests against his mouth. In response, his cock throbs inside of you, pressed so deep in this position you fear the repercussions. He kisses you with much the same force, insistent on driving you into the mattress—on pinning you here until you finally submit. Until the last of your resolve withers away, stamped out and replaced with something agreeable.

“Even if you wanted to,” he says around a shaky laugh, seeming positively deranged, “you couldn’t.”

You think you should be worried, but you’re so stunned with this development that your brain can’t keep up. Embarrassingly, you cum with a strangled sort of cry, your pussy clenching tight. He hisses through his teeth, fucks you through the high of your orgasm, and then falls with you, his own climax fast like a flash.

You’re panting in the aftermath. What just happened?

Scaramouche keeps you plugged with his cock for as long as he possibly can before he’s sliding out, flaccid and spent. For now, you suspect, for there will certainly be more later if your wits aren’t about you by then.

“Pill,” you mumble, voice hoarse from crying. You shake him, hoping he’ll climb off of you and get to it. “Scaraaa…”

Oddly, for someone who never shows any vulnerability, he clings. “We’ve got time. I’ll get it. Don’t worry.”

You don’t believe him. Not when his hand strays to your stomach. His palm brushes over the area once. He sighs, wholly satisfied.

“We’ve got time…”

Nine months of it, in fact. But that goes unspoken. If not today, there’s always tomorrow. You know he won’t rest until then. Neither will you. Your heart is too big, too soft, for that lonely stray cat, and part of you wonders if he knows that.

#yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere scaramouche #yandere scaramouche x reader #n/sfw #tw: dubcon #tw: forced pregnancy #tw: babytrapping #lunar love hotel 2023

[luvfy0dor]

“I Like Shiny Things, But I'd Marry You With Paper Rings ♡⁠˖” BSD x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ Dazai Osamu, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Chuuya Nakahara

Warnings; None! ♡⁠˖

Description; Drabbles about BSD men proposing

A/n; Any commentary on the pink theme? I like it, as of right now it's only gonna stay until Valentine's day. This is my in-between requests post, another request will be posted soon! ♡⁠˖

⑅ Dazai Osamu ⑅

♡ Dazai is the type of guy to keep the ring on him at all times. He proposes when he thinks the moment is right, there's no set date for when he's going to do it. He has times when he'd like to do it, but he doesn't force himself too if it doesn't feel like the best possible moment. Or he might just do it impulsively, who knows?x

ೃ⁀➷

You sat bored in the living room, folding a small square of paper into as many little origami shapes as you could. You made small hearts, cranes, and paper rings. You slid one of the recently-made rings onto your finger and smiled, deciding to make a matching one for your boyfriend, who had yet to come back from the grocery quest you sent him on. As you made the first few folds, you heard some banging on the door. It startled you a little, your breath hitching. The voice that followed calmed your nerves, though.

"Babe, can you let me in? Please?" He had a small impediment in his speech when he spoke. You sighed with a smile and got up, unlocking and opening the door to see Dazai with grocery bags hung up both of his arms and one hanging out of his mouth. Your eyebrows furrowed a little and you took roughly half of them into your own hole. "I sent you for a couple things, what's all this?" You ask. He just shrugs and kicks off his shoes, still standing with you at the doorway. "Just some stuff I figured we needed. Trust me, you'll thank me later." He tells. He heads to the kitchen and starts putting things away with your help. He shares tales of his journey to the grocery store and back, making sure you know every detail of the trip. He seemed to be particularly enthused about some coupons he found in the cart he grabbed, which explained all the extra groceries. After putting them all away, he joined you back one the couch and examined your origami art.

"Wow, you're quite crafty." He says, picking up the paper crane and bending it's neck back and forth. "Yeah, I got birds, hearts, and rings. I was about to make a matching ring for you, but then you bashed your head against the door instead of setting stuff down to get out your key." You playfully jabbed. He scoffed. "Like you wouldn't do the same thing." You shake your head, your tongue sticking out of your mouth while you focus on perfectly bending the paper to form the shape of a heart-ring. It became increasingly difficult when Dazai grabbed one of your hands oh-so gently and observed the ring made from a yellow sticky note. He thought about how much better a legitimate wedding ring/band would look on your finger, an idea suddenly occuring to him. "We should exchange rings once you're don't with mine." He pitches the idea to you with a grin.

You hum in approval. "Alright, I'm almost done, it'll only take another minute." He nodded, taking the ring off of your finger and setting it on the table. "Okay, I'll be right back." He says, rising from the couch and going to your shared bedroom, digging through the various items in the nightstand drawer to find the small, black box. He slipped it into his pocket and returned to your side, placing a hand on his back and kissing the side of your head and eventually leaning into your warmth. You held up your paper ring proudly when you finished. "Alright, are we exchanging them now?" He nods, his hand fidgeting with the ring box in his pocket, opening it and extracting the ring into his balled fist. He grabs the paper ring from the table and holds out his other hand for you.

"Here you go, my beloved husband." You tease, a smile on your face as you sit unaware of what's about to come. "Thanks, babe. Here's yours." You smiled as you watched him push the actual engagement ring onto your finger before it fully processed in your mind and your jaw dropped. "This felt like the perfect moment to ask...will you marry me?" Your heart flutters in your chest and you choke up a little, nodding and hugging him tightly. "Yes, yes! Oh my gosh, it's so pretty, Osamu!" Your heart felt like it was lodged in your throat with excitement as your boyfriend chuckles at the sight of you intensely observing the ring. "I'm so glad you said yes." He says through his smile, hugging you and running his hand up and down your back. "Why wouldn't I?" You said, brushing your hands through your new fiances hair with euphoria. "I know I'm pretty irresistible, so I didn't expect you to say 'no', you just make me nervous. In a good way, ofcourse." He pridefully says. You chuckled and kissed him sweetly. "You're such a dork, but I don't mind." You said. You both filled the rest of the evening with laughter and excited discussion of possibilities for the wedding itself. You couldn't help it, you just loved being immersed in conversation with your fiance more than anything.

⑅ Chuuya Nakahara ⑅

♡ Chuuya plans the proposal out. He'd really like to propose on a beach at sunset, something cliche like that. Some people might think it's corny, but he thinks it's romantic. He's got rose pedals, candles, you name it.

ೃ⁀➷

Chuuya scattered the rose pedals on the sand in the shape of a large heart, having picked the least windy day of the week to avoid the flowers blowing every which way. The heart shape was illuminated by pretty faux candles, their fake fire flickering on the darkening beach. The sunset painted the sky a beautiful pink, just like the rosy pink you made his face anytime you complimented him, even years into the relationship. The butterflies in his stomach were very much alive and well, even if he played them off with false annoyance. They were there now as he scattered the final petals, waiting for you to text him that you were pulling up to the beach to start walking to the close parking lot. His hands reached down into his pocket to grab his phone with one hand and fiddle with the ring in his other. As he was about to press the power button, his lock screen lit up with your notification.

He felt his heart in his throat as he started walking up, having to steady his breathing once or twice. You saw him first, calling out his name and waving. "Chuuya!" You picked up your pace, shoving your phone onto the back pocket of your shorts. He smiled, his teeth showing through his parted lips. He immediately embraced you, his arms falling loosely around your waist, pulling you into a kiss. It was just a peck, but it spread a more-than-welcome warmth throughout your chest. The smile didn't leave your face while he walked back with you slowly to the beach. "Have a good day, doll?" He asks, grabbing your hand and giving it a small squeeze. Your eyebrows furrow and your nose scrunches. "Yeah, I guess. It was really boring, but not bad." He hums in understanding, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing your knuckles. "But you got through the day." You nod with a grin that mirrored his on your face.

"So, uh, I have something I wanna ask you about." He said, avoiding eye contact and instead looking at his feet. You raised an eyebrow, tilting forward to look at his face. "Hm?" Your head fell to rest against his as you started to walk through the sand. The large, candle-lit heart caught your eye and you couldn't help but swoon. He was blushing and drew his hand up to his face to cover it, but he guided you to the center of the heart, his free hand holding yours. "Chuu, this is gorgeous." You murmur, taken back by how pretty everything looked. Ocean waves rolled against the shore quietly, setting the mood. Onlookers stared, but Chuuya only looked at you. "A gorgeous scene for a gorgeous person." He whispered. He took both hands and squeezed them tightly, swallowing the reoccurring lump in his throat. "Y/n, you know how much I love you and how long I've loved you- it feels like it's been forever in the best way possible. I never want it to stop, so.." he takes a deep breath and fishes the ring box out of his pocket and kneels down.

You could almost feel the world stop spinning and your heartbeat in your ears. Your tongue pressed against the roof of your mouth as you waited to hear the words you had wanted to for a while now. Chuuya brought your knuckles to his lips before asking. "Will you continue to make me the happiest man ever and marry me, Y/n?" You could barely squeeze a 'yes' out of your throat and nodded vigorously. He smiled from ear to ear and took the ring/band out of the box, sliding it onto your ring finger. You immediately throw yourself onto your new fiance, tackling him into the sand and hugging him tightly. "Chuuya, this was the cutest thing ever, thank you so much." You pressed a soft kiss to his exposed collarbone and ran a hand through his hair. "Anythin' for you, sweetheart." He says, still on a high from your response. He pressed a kiss to your head and the two of you just played together for a while, basking in each other's presence, the ocean and sunset wonderfully adding to the atmosphere.

⑅ Fyodor Dostoevsky ⑅

♡ Fyodor, like Chuuya, plans it out. He much prefers a restaurant setting to a beach, though. Candle lit dinners ended with applause from onlookers and a smile on your face is a more than satisfactory way to propose.

ೃ⁀➷

Fyodor had been mentioning bringing you out for a nice, candle-lit dinner recently, and he finally got to take you out on a saturday evening. His hand rested on your thigh while he drove, which didn't usually happen, but it wasn't an unwelcomed occurrence. Your hand was on top of his while you told him about a book you had read, excitedly filling him all the details about the characters and their romantic sparks. He followed along with that beautiful soft smile on his face, nodding and 'oh'ing, but it wasn't a dismissive 'oh', it was an intrigued one. He related the book you were talking about to one he had read in the past, and you listened just as he did. He loved that about you, your interest in whatever conversation he had to offer. His hand lifted from your thigh as he pulled into the parking lot, finding the closest spot to the entrance. He looked kinda sexy when he drove, the way his thin and nimble fingers loosely held the wheel made your cheeks heat up. You let out a giddy breath when he opened his door and made his way around the car to open yours for you. And they say romance is dead.

You smiled and took his hand when getting out, keeping it in your hold while your you walked in and he told the hostess about your reservation. She led the both of you to a table and gave you menus, leaving to give you some alone time with your boyfriend. His hair was pushed back behind one of his ears and his eyes scanned over the drinks printed om the laminated paper. "What are you going to order, Moya Lyubov?" He asks, looking up at you from across the table, his foot brushing against yours underneath the surface. "Maybe a margarita." You say pensively, putting thorough thought into your decision. After deciding that nothing on the menu sounded better in the moment, you settled. "Yeah, a margarita for sure." You sat the menu down on the table and crossed your arms. "Mm, that's a good choice." He says. "I think I just want water."

The waitress soon arrives at your table to take your orders for drinks, and it doesn't take long for her to return. She sets them on the table and you both murmur appreciative 'thank you's and take a sip. She offered to take your order for a main course or appetizers, but you requested more time to look over the menu. Fyodor reached over and gently pried one of your hands from the side of the gatefold booklet, holding it. "Your hands are so warm, my dear." He says, eyes soft and loving. "I love you, so, so much, and I plan to show you just how much that is tonight." He says, kissing your knuckles. Your face immediately warmed and you laughed softly. The restaurant had soft classical music playing in the background, which paired nicely with the soft chatter of the people. "Yeah? Well, I'm not sure I'd need you to prove how much you love me, but I'm not opposed to it if you want to." You says, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles.

Fyodor nodded and his mind drifted down to the ring box that patiently sat in his front pocket, waiting to be gifted to you. "I always want to display my love for you." He confesses. After a moment, you both pick a main course for yourselves and the waitress takes the order. Fyodor wanted to wait until you were ready to leave to get down on one knee so it would be less expected than him standing up in the middle of dinner, and that he did. He watched your every reaction to his words throughout the meal when it was delivered to you. He subtly dropped some hints, although you didn't seem to be picking them up. He didn't mind, it just added to the element of surprise when he did finally pop the question.

The conversation flowed smoothly as it always did, his hand almost always holding onto yours across the table. His laugh was so charming, as was his smile. Everything about him seemed so soft, like the warm toned light on his skin and the way his hair fell just above his shoulders. You are your food happily, paid the bill, and gathered your stuff. He assisted you in putting your coat, turning you around and pressing a kiss to your lips while holding your hands. "Mmn, myshka..." He slides his hand into his pocket and withdrawals it, holding it out and getting down on one knee. Your eyes widened and you sucked in a breath, your posture suddenly straightening. Peoples heads all over the restaurant turned towards you and your soon-to-be-fiance.

"Y/n, do you remember our first date being here?" He says, opening the ring box to show you the beautiful jewelry piece. "I believe things come full circle. We've had one new begining here, and I thought I should start a new chapter in the story of us here, as well." He said, never breaking eye contact until you looked down, giddy with excitement. "So, will you marry me, Y/n?" He asked. He was confident you'd say yes, but he still held his breath. People around were watching with intrigue and excitement.

"Oh my god, yes." You said, the dorkiest grin on your face as you hugged him. The people around clapped and let out small aw's as you and Fyodor exchanged a sweet kiss. His hand was placed on the back of your head, his lips pulled upward in a grin similar to your own. "Ah, I love you, Myshka." He pulled away and slid the ring onto your finger while his other hand slid down to the small of your back. You admired the jewels embedded in the metal and kissed his cheek one more time. "Ready to leave, my dear?" You nod, kissing his knuckles. "Yeah, thank you so much for tonight and just...everything." You appreciatively thank him with your head on his shoulder. You couldn't be more ecstatic about the proposal, and you knew your lover was feeling the same way.

A/n; THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT IM DHAJEKWKS I CANT WAIT IM PROLLY GONNA MAKE A SEPARATE POST ABOUT IT BUT I JUSR DJSJJKSJD I'm a little sad I didn't get one of the deluxe CDs, but it's whatever I guess. I should really focus on getting debut, rep, and fearless TV, those r the only ones I don't have rn 😭

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