#until the reminder of how they don't age hits me on the temple with a pan lol

[fragmentedblade]

Just how big was Teng Xiao if Cirrus calls Jing Yuan a "lightweight"???

#I talk too much #I should probably delete this later #I guess they don't mean it physically and more in countenance given the insults they direct to Jing Yuan #but that was my first thought lmao #I keep forgetting people here don't age so I always picture the masters old or at least like Gongshu aesthetically #so this line made me reconsider how Teng Xiao may have looked like #I always think of him‚ Fu Xuan's master and Huaiyan‚ for example‚ as old(ish) people #until the reminder of how they don't age hits me on the temple with a pan lol #The one time I saw Huaiyan art it took me a moment to place who that pretty man was because it wasn't anything like I pictured him #And then the idea that he could actually look like that even nowadays dawned on me like a punch. Same thing happened with Fu Xuan's master #Yet even after the punches I keep forgetting after two days and go on to think of them as rather old looking #only to be hit with the realisation again at some other time. Like right now xD #Super funny that he just pushes the fight on us. In line with his 'okay but why do I have to deal with this? This spark isn't even worth it #And then he pulls the 'if you lose you must answer one question without lies or tricks'. The same guy who can't be named in front of #the prisoner who collaborates with the interrogations of the Ten Lords Commission and that has a few free days yearly #This is so his way of doing things and god I love him so much for it #Odysseu.s-adjacent kind of character. A scoundrel truly in many regards‚ Fu Xuan was so right. I love him so. He should have been my fave 😔 #Cirrus talked about chessboard‚ pieces and pawns. I love how Jing Yuan's opponents keep talking in chess metaphors #And how he manauvers conflict and his moves in a similar fashion yet how he draws a clear line between real conflict and a chess match #when asked if war is truly similar to a xiangqi game #Ahfksjkd I love him sooo much haha

[bi-bard]

Cruel Trick of Fate - Xenk Yendar Imagine [Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves]

Title: Cruel Fate

Pairing: Xenk Yendar X Reader

Word Count: 1,508 words

Warning(s): self-image issues (i think that's a good way to describe it), mention of attack

Summary: Xenk saves the life of a person in need. (Y/n)'s time spent healing brings the duo exceptionally closer than either of them considered to be possible.

Author's Note: I don't know if I'm surprised that this is happening or not.

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

My story truly begins when I woke up in what I assumed was a cave.

I had no idea where I was or how I had gotten there. And once I blinked the sleep from my eyes, I realized those facts and shoved myself out of the bed.

I scrambled, doing a circle in the hopes of getting some kind of hold on my surroundings. It didn't do much.

I reached over blindly, grabbing a stick of some kind that I could use as a makeshift weapon.

"You shouldn't be moving around."

I jumped when I heard a voice. I held out my arms, trying to look more threatening to the man than I actually was.

"You hit your head," he said. "You should sit down before your head begins to hurt again."

"Who are you and where am I," I asked. "And why did you bring me here?"

"My name is Xenk Yendar, this is my home, and you were attacked," he answered simply.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "That didn't actually answer my final question."

"Your head was hurt," he repeated. "By the creature that attacked you. Do you not remember?"

"Head injuries can impact memory," I replied. "Shocking, I know."

"I do not find that shocking at all," his eyebrows furrowed for a moment.

"I was being- it wasn't- why am I explaining the concept of language to you," I scolded myself more than I truly spoke to him. "Let me go."

"I cannot do that in good conscience," he shook his head. "How are you feeling?"

"I- I'm fine," I blinked a few times when a spiking pain shot through my head, finding a place in my temple to continuously remind me of its presence. "I want to go home."

"If I allow you to do that and you end up even more hurt on the trip, then I would never be able to forgive myself."

"Then you can guide me, how's... how's that?"

I must've swayed a bit when I spoke.

Xenk stepped forward, only stopping when I shakily pointed the stick at him.

"You are threatening me with a stick and are clearly weak, please sit down," he pleaded.

I closed my eyes, my face scrunching up a bit as I did so. I felt him pull the stick from my hands before guiding me to sit back down on the bed.

"I will be right back."

I dug the heels of my hands into my eyes, not acknowledging his comment.

At the time, I decided that the entire event was decided by some cruel act of fate.

It felt like I spent ages with Xenk.

At first, I was angry. Dismissive. I made my discomfort very well known. The more that I looked back on that time, the more stunned I am that Xenk never told me to leave. He refused to give up on me until I was fully healed.

I did eventually begin to calm down. Anger and annoyance became something close to indifference. It was all much calmer. We would eat together, conversations were less awkward, and my constant need to fight or run seemed to dissipate.

When that indifference changed, I wanted to refuse that it happened.

It felt strange to think that such a change had happened. Ridiculous.

It was so much easier for me to ignore it happened at all.

And then, Xenk came back with a wound on his arm.

I furrowed my eyebrows as he walked in.

"Are you alright," I asked.

He nodded. "Just need to take care of this."

I watched him for a while as he cleaned his wound and attempted to take care of it. It didn't seem like a very intense wound, but it did seem a bit difficult for him to take care of.

It took me far too long to finally step in.

"Alright, stop," I walked over and swatted his hand away. "I may go mad watching your stubbornness."

His eyebrows furrowed for a moment. "How would my supposed stubbornness cause you to lose- you were figurative!"

"Yes," I nodded as I moved his arm. He hissed a bit. "Does that hurt?"

"Not at all," he replied, voice slightly strained.

I rolled my eyes before walking around him and sitting behind him on the mattress. He was able to lower his arm and I was still able to properly take care of his wound.

I remained quiet as I wrapped his arm. I was the youngest in my family. My experience with tending to wounds was minuscule. But I could do some of the bare minimum.

"How is that," I asked quietly after pulling my hands away.

"Better than I could have done on my own," he mumbled.

It was then that I noticed how... strange the moment felt. We were so close and it all felt so... intimate.

We fell silent again. We both seemed fixated on watching each other's eyes. As if we were attempting to read each other's minds before either one of us made a mistake.

I nodded somewhat awkwardly before going to stand from my spot. "I... I think I am going to make us both some tea. I know that it won't heal you, but it certainly couldn't hurt."

I went to walk away, but his good hand stopped me, catching my wrist before I could get too far away from him. I stopped, turning back to him.

"What is it," I asked quietly.

He blinked a few times as if suddenly realizing what he had actually done. "I... I'm afraid that I don't truly know. I'm sorry."

He let go of my wrist, still stunned by himself.

I paused for a moment. After contemplating my choices, I stepped closer to him. He looked up at me.

My eyes moved up to his forehead. I don't know why. I think holding eye contact with him was simply too intense. I heard him sigh as my eyes moved. He must have assumed that I was staring at the mark decorating his skin and not just trying to cope with my own emotions.

"That is why it has taken you so long to fully trust me," he muttered.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "What?"

"The symbol of Szass Tam," he explained, looking away from me. "Some part of me will always be lost to it. I am closer to a monster than not... it is why you were so hesitant to trust me."

"No," I shook my head. "No, no, Xenk. That is not true."

He looked at me again.

"I didn't trust you because I was hurt and found myself in a strange place with a person that I had never met before," I corrected. "It was a very understandable reaction. But once I got to know you, I trusted you more. I cannot think of a single moment that the symbol on your forehead was what determined how I felt about you.

"You are also far from any kind of monster. You are a hero. You have saved many people, you protected me when you didn't even know my name, you have vowed yourself to a life helping others. I don't know a monster that would ever do such a thing."

Xenk seemed to scan every inch of my face, waiting for some sign that I was being dishonest. I reached up, gently running my thumb over the mark on his forehead. He took a deep breath, eyes falling shut as I did.

"Silly thing, really," I muttered. "I didn't even notice it when we first met. Did you know that?"

"Really?"

I nodded. "I was a little too focused on other things... like figuring out what had happened."

"When did you notice it," he asked.

"We were having dinner. That first night," I said. "I was refusing to eat until you did, so I had nothing to focus on other than you. That's when I started making out the symbol. I just... I couldn't bring myself to care about it."

"Why?"

"Don't know," I shrugged. "Instinct... fate?"

"I do not understand why fate would prevent you from caring."

"Maybe fate didn't want me to leave," I replied. "If I cared about the mark, then I would have."

"And why would fate not want you to leave?"

I could see something cross his face. Some small, knowing look. I bit back a growing smile at the idea. There was this air of safety and comfort. Security in whatever choice I made next.

I took a deep breath before leaning down and gently pressing my lips to his. I felt the hand of his uninjured arm reach up and touch the hand not resting on his face.

It was only a few moments before I pulled away. I slowly grinned at him. He smiled back at me.

"I'm glad that fate kept you from leaving," he muttered.

I chuckled. "So am I."

I leaned forward and kissed him again.

Quite a cruel trick that fate decided to play, wasn't it?

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

Author's Note: I just wanna brag about the fact that I managed to guess where this movie was filmed while I was watching it with a friend. It was the coolest thing I've done in a long time.

Also, that I kept making comparisons between this movie and Ella Enchanted, but that's not really as cool.

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#fanfiction #imagine #x reader #dungeons and dragons imagine #dungeon and dragons fanfiction #dungeons and dragons x reader #dnd imagine #dnd fanfiction #dnd x reader #xenk yendar imagine #xenk yendar fanfiction #xenk yendar x reader #honor among thieves imagine #honor among thieves fanfiction #honor among thieves x reader #dungeons and dragons: honor among thieves imagine #dungeons and dragons: honor among thieves fanfiction #dungeons and dragons: honor among thieves x reader

[mcbitchtits]

I can’t remember if I already sent an ask about this sometime in the last month but thinking about the fact that I’m almost certainly going to have to wait until it hits digital release to actually get to see Dial of Destiny a second time further reminded not only of how badly Disney has handled the physical release of the soundtrack (I saw a copy of the CD listed for five hundred fucking dollars) but also I still want to know how a 2 hour and 34 minute movie has a 1 hour and 9 minute soundtrack. I definitely heard cues from ToD in the movie that aren’t on it but not enough to make up for the extra hour of missing music

I think somewhere in all the comments back and forth you had mentioned they did rewrites at one point? Which could be anything, but, idk. I'm not sure if it's an editing choice or a music choice or what to make soundtrack albums that are re-edited rather than just matching the film cues 1:1, but it drives me nuts. On the other hand, the score really felt underdeveloped/poorly edited to me (and this is maybe a product of a few screenings with bad sound balance), so I'm guessing they pared it down to the better parts. Which is uhhhhhhhh not a compliment. (I am still thinking about how badly the first Raiders March cue we hear is just out of left field with no build whatsoever. WHAT'S A CRESCENDO. WE JUST DON'T KNOW.)

I don't think they had even released the physical album yet? I preordered it ages ago because I sold my soul to Lucasfilm and that is the way it goes. I do not even have a record player. I want to say it was shipping in September, maybe not. Disney Music does not seem to give much of a damn about putting out actual albums, just collector vinyls. Most of that company is so steeped in not having original ideas it's frankly astounding anything happens at all. $500 is insane. (But also, here I am, yelling at Disney Music for never releasing non-streaming non-collector albums of The Mandalorian, so what do I know. I'm just a chump with average spending money.)

Then again, it took, what, 24 years for the Temple of Doom score to get a release outside of Japan at all initially????? So maybe this is an improvement. (Although I am not personally willing to give them that credit; I think Lucasfilm has really been dropping the ball on everything since Disney bought them.) For years all I had was the Prague Symphony Orchestra album that's like a "best of", and I hadn't ever hunted down the Raiders or Last Crusade albums, so I'm not sure if those were as rare or not.

Wait, horrible thought, do you think they temp-tracked DoD with previous scores? I don't think I heard any KotCS really but that's a fairly obvious exception given... all of it.

BUT THE REST... :/

(Does John Williams temp-track? I feel like no. But he's so close to continual retirement, I mean...?)

#indiana jones #dial of destiny #music

[justplainwhump]

34. Dany

Maybe AU Dany 👀

See this ask was from a very long time ago, but now it fits! "Force them to their knees", from this ask game that I'll never get tired of.

Set some years after the events that kick off the Mafia / Romeo and Juliet AU, Dany is married to Myk and living with him and his two daughters. Those three are @painful-pooch s OCs and I love them.

Content / warning: whumpee is a parent, home invasion, kidnapping, some killing, blood. Self sacrifice. There are children involved, threatened and scared but not hurt. Noncon kissing, implied threats of noncon (both among adults).

The girls don't want to go to bed. They never do, of course, and I guess I was just the same in their age, but still it feels particularly bad tonight.

"Can't we stay up until Papa returns?"

I rub my temples and stifle a yawn. "No, Sana, baby. I've told you, he's on his way home, but it'll be hours until he arrives."

"It's okay," Anya says, with a suspiciously understanding tone. "We can stay up while you sleep. We will be very quiet." She casts a glance at her twin sister, who barely manages to suppress a giggle and just nods very expressively.

"How about a deal?" I ask, cursing myself just as the words leave my mouth. Myk makes fun of me, always retreating to what I do best in business: negotiating.

There's two groups of people you never bargain with, he says. Terrorists, and children.

It's too late now. I'm looking into two excited sets of blue eyes, Anya's burning as intense as her father's, Oksana's shining a little softer. "Mmmmmmaybe," Anya offers. "What is it?"

"You go upstairs now and get ready for bed, while I do the dishes. Then I join you and if you're already in your pyjamas and your teeth brushed, we can finish building the Lego castle together."

Anya's brows furrow, while she tries to figure out of it's a good deal or not. Her sister is faster, this time. "Aaaand you tell us a story! Of the princess fighting the dragon."

"Deal!" I extend my hand.

Anya shakes it while she mumbles something to her sister in Ukrainian. I understand enough, though.

"You will not demolish any parts of the castle, before you brush your teeth," I say sternly. "It's important to honour a deal."

"That's not what I said," she says defensively, but the guilty look in her eyes betrays her. I fight the urge to lift her up and hug her. She's going to grow into a wonderful adult. They both are. Right now, though, they're both stubborn girls, and it's way past their bed time.

I point upstairs. "Go get ready. I'll be there in ten minutes."

"Fiiiine," Anya grumbles, and follows Oksana who is already racing upstairs.

With a groan, I sink onto one of the bar stools in the kitchen. I need a drink.

Only after the girls are finally in bed, I remind myself. And then I need to decide, if I actually want to wait up for my husband. I miss him, and I'm sure he missed me too.

Maybe I'll get into the cute silk negligee I've bought, and lay out some ropes for him to tie me up. It's going to be fun and it's going to be quick. Win win.

I hum to myself in anticipation, as I slide off the stool and walk towards the sink to fulfil my part of the deal with the girls.

Something moves behind me.

I react on instinct. Patterns deeply ingrained after years of training.

Dodge.

Assess.

Counterattack.

A woman, dressed in black, moving swiftly and soundlessly. There's a gun on her hip and a syringe in her hand. She hasn't expected me to fight back.

One hit to her throat, sending her stumbling back against the kitchen island, the syringe falling from her hand. Before she can go for her gun, my own hand finds the kitchen knife on the counter.

Dark eyes widen.

I don't hesitate. I bury the knife into her stomach, once, twice, and as she sinks down, I lift the knife to ram it into her neck.

A shot rings from the living room and something riochets from the fridge behind me. Someone is yelling.

Upstairs.

Someone is upstairs, with the girls.

I take cover on top of the assailant's body. There's blood, so much blood, on her, on the floor, on me, and it gets even more as I pull her gun from the holster.

I need to get upstairs.

"She's not contained," someone shouts, near me, and then, "Mrs Kysil, you're surrounded. You won't be hurt, if you come out and -"

He's lying. He must be. I'm not surrounded. He's alone downstairs. And his voice tells me where he is.

I steady the gun, peek over the counter, aim and shoot. A scream, the shatter of glass, and I get up and shoot again at the figure crashed into our cupboard, twice, right into his chest.

"Mama!" Oksana cries from upstairs.

There's nobody else left where I am, I'm mostly positive, and even if there is, I can't spare another second.

Gun in hand, back pressed to the wall I make it up the stairs.

"Shaun-?" Another woman in combat gear is facing me in the corridor, her own gun trained at me. It's wrong, so wrong, seeing this person in front of the wall of our family photos, stepping out of my own bedroom.

"Where are the girls?" I demand.

"You'll want to put your gun down, Mrs Kysil."

"Hammond," I growl. "And no, what I want is to empty this fucking gun right into your stomach. Where are they?"

She smirks and retreats into the master bedroom, her gun swinging to the side.

The girls are standing in front of the wall. Anya in front of Oksana, holding Myk's knife in shaking hands. They must've somehow escaped here, gotten the weapon from his nightstand.

Both of them wearing their pyjamas already. I have to struggle to keep my gun steady. I've never been so proud of them. I've never been so afraid.

"Mama," Anya whispers. "Mama are you dying?"

"It's not my blood," I say, trying not to let my fear show. They need me to be strong. "I'm good, okay? We'll be good."

There's another two men in the room, both armed with guns, pointed at me.

"You don't need to be here, Mrs Hammond," one of them says. Their leader, given the nauseating confidence in his stance and voice. "Our business isn't with you."

"They're my daughters, too."

"They're just leverage. Your husband surely won't let anything happen to them. You lower your gun, we take the girls, he does what we want, and you can go on being a picture perfect family. Nobody needs to get hurt."

"She killed Shaun and Tess," the woman says.

"I'm willing to disregard that."

I shake my head, gun pointed at his forehead. "Fuck you," I whisper. "You're not touching them."

"Mama," Oksana says and stumbles towards me.

"Stop!" The man's gun is on her now, even though his gaze stays on me. She's stopped dead in her tracks, Anya's hand on her arm.

"I think one girl will be enough for Mr Kysil to listen to our demands. There's one to spare."

"I'll kill you," I say through clenched teeth.

"You've killed two of us already. Won't change the outcome. We'll get what we want. The question is how many of your family remain alive."

"All," I whisper. "All of us. You want a hostage, take me. He'll do anything for me. And I... If you leave the girls alone, I promise, I won't fight."

"Huh." He smirks, looking me down as if with new found interest. "You won't fight?"

I shake my head once, shortly, not leaving him out of my eyes.

"Whatever we do?" I hate the undertone in his voice, the implications, the confidence in his lingering gaze.

I nod anyway. "Whatever you do."

"Adorable. But fine. We have a deal, Mrs Hammond." He nods at my hand. "Put your gun down. Knees."

"No!" Anya shouts. The knife in her hand is shaking. "Mama! Don't do this! Papa will save us!"

"Put the knife down, baby. Please. I've got this, okay? I'm going with these men, and Papa will help me and I'll be back very soon. I promise."

"She's right," the man says. "If your Mama is a good girl, and if your Papa loves her enough, nothing bad will happen. Knees, Mrs Hammond. Gun down, hands on your head. Don't test my patience."

I do as he says. The gun clatters on the hardwood floor, and I sink to my knees, in my own bedroom. My pants are soaked in the dead woman's blood. There'll be stains on the wood, I think numbly. Hell to get them out.

The second man moves behind me and I feel the cold metal of cuffs close around my wrists. His hands run down my body swiftly. "She's clean," he says, and casually kicks at my legs. I wince.

The leader steps in and grabs my hair with one hand, his gun caressing the side of my face.

"Mama," I hear Anya whimper. Sana has just fallen silent.

"Little girl," the man says. "See how good your Mama is being for me? Your turn. Drop the knife." He throws over another set of cuffs. Both of them flinch as it lands next to their feet. "And then cuff yourself and the whiny one to the radiator."

There's a deep pride in her eyes and a faint growl to her voice when she replies, "I'm not a little girl. I'm Anastasiya Mykhailovna Kysil."

"Anya, baby. Do as he says," I whisper. "Please. You're both so brave. I'm so proud of you."

"I have to protect Sana."

"It's alright. You protected her so good. Now it's my turn to protect you both, okay?"

"But you, Mama, I need to..."

I shake my head, tears in my eyes. "Please, Anya. I'll be good. I promise."

Anya throws Myk's knife to the floor, blue eyes burning with hatred as she stares down the man. "My Papa will kill you."

"He sure will want to. Up." The man yanks at my hair and I struggle to get to my feet with my hands tied behind me. He steadies me with an arm around my back, firm on my butt, as he pulls me in. "No fight, huh?"

His lips press on mine and I fight a scream, fight the nausea and the panic. It'll be alright. Everything will be alright. I can do this.

He deepens the kiss and I let him, let a stranger kiss me, in my and husband's bedroom, in front of the panicked eyes of his daughters.

It feels like forever, when he finally pulls back.

"Good girl." He plucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. "We're going to have so much fun together."

The girls are sitting on the floor, the woman just finished closing the cuffs around Oksana's wrist. She's apathetic, staring against the wall, just letting the woman handle her. Next to her, Anya is crying, hands balled into angry fists. "Papa will-"

He cuts her off. "If he really loves your Mama, Papa will best hurry up getting my bosses what they want." He smacks my ass. "We're leaving."

I barely listen to him. "I love you," I whisper. "I love you girls so much, I-"

The bedroom door is slammed shut behind us, cutting off the girls' faint sobbing.

"Move," the man says, and numbly, I do.

#whump #lady whump #kidnapping #home invasion #the romeo and juliet au #dany #dany hammond #mama!dany #self sacrifice #whump writing #mafia whump

[mslizsteele-stories]

Gothic Academia: One

༒︎

"Wanna get outta here?" Tobio looked up from his work and stared at the gothic girl with a curious look. 

They were seated in the corner next to the window at the study centre. She's seated across from him, preoccupied with her phone. Mikasa exuded an effortlessly cool aura in her gothic ensemble. Her raven-black pixie cut framed her delicate features, emphasizing her sharp, determined eyes and her lips were painted dark plum. Strands of obsidian hair grazed her temples and nape, adding a touch of edginess to her overall appearance. 

She glanced up, arching an eyebrow with a stoic expression. "You weren't expecting me to actually work on this assignment, were you?" she scoffed.

"It is a group assignment," he reminded her. "It requires a group effort."

Mikasa rolls her eyes. "Well, this assignment is not worth my time and effort," she argued. "I'm not about to waste my time and brain cells on an analysis of 'The Blessed Girl.'"

"It's not that bad."

"The Bloomsbury version was simply the author's attempt to appease some overly sensitive feminists who complained about the harsh ending in the Pan Macmillan version and got paid for it. I'm dying on this hill." She growled, pointing a finger at him. "Besides, I could be doing something worthwhile with my time, like partying and drinking with friends."

"Well, this module is compulsory. You need to pass this class to graduate," Tobio reminded her, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Might as well suck it up until the end of the semester."

Mikasa glared at him, as if ready to cut his head off. Tobio raised his hand in surrender, not wanting to argue further. "Anyways," she continued, "I don't get why we're getting assignments on top of tests, exams, and continuous assessments. I mean, we're in university for crying out loud. If I wanted homework, I could have just stayed in high school, but here we fucking are."

"It comes with the degree, Mikasa. How else are they going to assess us?" he answered.

She scoffed, annoyed. "I've been scoring straight As for damn near every test and quiz for this module. What more do they want to know? It's not like the professors take the time to actually read three to five-page essays. All they have to do is look at the Turnitin plagiarism percentage, fancy words, slap a random letter from the alphabet based on their mood, and if they like us, then call it a day."

"You still salty about Professor Ackerman giving you a C- on your last assignment?"

"Oh, most definitely. I didn't put my blood, sweat, and tears into an essay on child psychology just for that middle-aged midget to give me a C-."

Tobio chuckled at her rant. It was a mystery how Mikasa was studying Psychology instead of Criminal Justice, considering her passion for justice. She would make a great lawyer or judge.

"Well, if you wanna leave, I won't stop you," Tobio told her. "Based on what we have, I'd say that we're already done with this assignment."

"Great! 'cause it's Friday and I'm hitting the club and getting wasted. Wanna come?"

Tobio made a face at the offer. "Hard pass. Not only is clubbing not my scene, I have a shit tone of essays to finish grading."

Mikasa's eyebrows furrow with confusion. "I'm a tutor." He told her.

"Why would you punish yourself this way, dude!" she asked, shock present in her tone.

"Good resume and extra cash."

She stared at him like he was an odd phenomenon and burst into laughter. "Okay, I knew you were a dork, but I never would have thought you were goody two shoes."

"What can I say, I value my education and my future," he shrugged with a smirk. "Now run along. Wouldn't want you to miss out on your Friday shemons."

"Hilarious," she rolled her eyes. She got up and started packing her stuff into her bag.

"Don't forget that we're meeting at your place to study for next week's test," he reminded her.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she waved her hand dismissively. "But you better not be copying my answers while we're studying. Got it?"

"Please," he rolled his eyes. "I have too much pride to stoop that low, sweetheart."

She hummed, satisfied but still a little amused. "Just making sure." With a wave, she left the study centre.

"Have fun," he called after her.

༒︎

Tobio rang the bell and adjusted the strap of his backpack as he waited for Mikasa at her door. In contrast to Mikasa's gothic style, Tobio's attire was plain and simple; denim jeans, a black T-shirt, a grey jacket, and a pair of red and blue vans. His hair, which was once a buzzcut, had grown into spikes over the past three months, but he had recently trimmed the sides, giving it a faded look. He wore his glasses over his amber eyes. It was low-effort but decent and presentable - just the way he liked it.

A minute later, the door opened, revealing Mikasa in a more casual ensemble that contrasted with her usual gothic look. Her attire remained dominantly black, consisting of a zipped-up black hoodie that offered a glimpse of her cleavage, and a pair of black cotton shorts that accentuated her hips, tracing a path down to her waist. Her dark makeup, a signature part of her style, was still present, though her eyeliner, though not as bold, highlighted her captivating dark grey eyes. Just below the corner of her left eye was a faint scar, adding an intriguing touch to her already enigmatic allure.

"You're early," she stated with a stoic expression, leaning against the doorpost.

Tobio shrugged. "I like being punctual."

"You won't die or have a stroke if you're just a few minutes late, you know."

"I know. But punctuality has its perks. You should try it."

She rolled her eyes, opened the door wider and moved to the side. "Come on in."

Tobio walked inside her little studio apartment and noticed how... normal it looked. He would have thought that given her taste, Mikasa's apartment would have a dark and gothic touch and aesthetic to it, but the simplicity of the décor and interior design from the all-white painted walls, the furniture, the light brown wooden floor and the grey curtains surprised him.

However, despite how normal and clean her small studio apartment was the faint smell of cigarettes from the ashtray on the coffee where her books and notes were scattered. She must have been studying before he came.

"Sorry about that," she quickly removed the tray and disposed of its contents in the dust bin in the kitchen. "It's kinda a habit to smoke while I'm studying."

"No, no, no. It's fine," he assured with a smile. "You're fine."

"Great! Now that you're here, we can get started," she sat down on the floor in front of the coffee table. "I remember you saying that you need help with Literature. Anything specific?"

"Ah yeah," he placed his backpack on the floor and sat down across from her. "I've been having trouble with the Gothic Era. I figure that given your aesthetic, it's your area of expertise."

"Oh my gosh, yes! I have so much I wanna talk about," her face beamed with excitement. "There's so much to cover... how about we start with its characteristics? The history and background might be a bit too complex for you."

Tobio gave her a "The floor is yours" hand gesture, "Take it away, Professor Ackerman."

"Haha! Very funny," sarcasm dripped in her tone as she rolled her eyes. "Anyways, one of the key characteristics of the Gothic Era is its tone and themes which are horror and romanticism. If you look at the literature during that time, they mostly dwelled on supernatural, death, torture, the list goes on."

Tobio listened to her attentively. It was funny how Mikasa always expressed her distaste for doing assignments and school work but still excelled in her studies and was at the top of the class. She was smart and intelligent, probably even smarter than him in some of the classes he took with her.

While he acknowledged her level of intellect, he also came to admire and appreciate her passion for the things she loves or generally anything that sparked her interest. The way her face would light up and her dark grey eyes would sparkle when she talked about her favourite band or a book she recently picked up. The way her eyes would burn with fire and her jaw would clench when she ranted about her pet peeves or when she argued and challenged opinions different from her own.

Mikasa wasn't one to express herself that way to everyone outside of her friends Eren and Armin and some rare occasions him since she was usually stoic and withdrawn. He didn't mind it, but he always appreciated rare moments like these where he got to see her in her natural element.

Not forget, he had a thing for intelligent women.

She's so sexy when she explains stuff, he thought without realising that he blurted those words out loud.

Mikasa, who was explaining examples of gothic themes in Wuthering Heights, paused. "Did you... did you just call me sexy?" A tinge of red appeared on her cheeks, surprised by what Tobio said.

Tobio snapped out of his trance and flushed with embarrassment. "Shit. Did I say that out loud?"

"Umm... yeah... pretty much," she answered with an awkward chuckle, her cheeks still red. "I mean thanks... I guess?"

"I am so sorry. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable," He said, now getting worried that he creeped her out.

She shrugged her shoulders. "A compliment is a compliment. I don't mind it even though you're not my type honestly."

Ouch, he thought. I mean fair. She's allowed to have a type and a preference. But still... ouch. "So who's your type then? Eren?"

She made a face. "I mean... we dated before but it got weird and toxic and we decided to just stay friends," she sighed scratching her head. "I dunno. It's complicated, but one thing for sure is that if you're too weak to handle all this," she gestured to herself. "then you're not worth my time."

"Oooh! Yas queen," he cheered, snapping his fingers. "We stan a woman with standards."

She chuckled, leaning back against the couch and resting her arms on her knees. "Yeah, like sure I dress in black and wear dark makeup which practically makes me a goth girl, but that's just how I dress and express myself." She paused briefly. "But I do like guys who are smart and can have deep conversations with. Just as long they make it past my resting bitch face."

Tobio laughed. "Then I'm happy to say that I'm one of those guys."

"Question," she leaned forward, placing her elbow on the coffee table and putting her hand on her chin, her expression now serious. "Do you think I'm cold and unemotional?"

Tobio blinked, taken aback by the sudden question and change in atmosphere. "It's just... I've always wondered what people think of me... well people besides Eren and Armin," she explained. "I know I'm not exactly friendly and approachable, but I'm just curious to know."

Tobio leaned back and pondered her question. He had only known her since freshman year, unlike Eren and Armin who've known her since childhood. He did get the impression that she was cold and emotionless - at first at least - but he thought of her as reserved and withdrawn. It didn't drive him away even when they first started talking, but it did take some time for her to warm up to him and he didn't mind that.

"Well... I think you're capable of expressing yourself, but only to those you trust and feel comfortable with," he answered truthfully. "I'd say you're more cautious and self-conscious than cold and unemotional. You know yourself and how people might react and receive the real you since you have a strong and intense personality. But that's just me."

Mikasa nodded her head slowly, taking in his words. "Well... having a tough childhood does that to you..." she said with a sad smile.

Tobio felt a pang of empathy in his gut. She didn't go into the nitty gritty details about her life and past but he already had a rough idea of how hard it was for her. "Sorry to hear that,"

She shook her head and smiled, a genuine one this one. "It's okay, I had friends and family who looked out for me," she said before clearing her throat. "Anyways, sob story's over. I still need to explain Wuthering Heights and its gothic themes to you so pay attention."

He chuckled. "Yes, ma'am."

☾︎<---------------------------------------------->☽︎

Next->

#wattpad #explict #romance #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #attack on titan #smut #mikasa ackerman #goth mikasa #anime fanfic #archive of our own #attack on titan smut #modern au #college au #oneshot #aot #aot oneshots #mikasa ackerman smut

[monkey-network]

Good Stuff: Turning Red

Being able to be a giant red panda is fucking cool

That's it, that's my thesis for this review. I got other things to say but, keep that in mind. Hell, it's all I had in mind since it was announced. We can go over how this movie managed to make Twitter shart itself once again, but I don't care. My mind kept to the premise, that one idea, and I waited well enough to see if it delivered. So with it finally out, did Turning Red blossom into potential kino or is it all just appearance?

With its... painfully relatable moments?

Honestly, there is one scene I take issue with in this film as a whole and I mention this before but, trying not to spoil, it's early on involving Meilin's mum that rubbed me the wrong way no matter how many times I saw it. Personally, they took it too far when they didn't have to and it feels almost out of place regardless of how real it got. But honestly, that's a minor stain in an otherwise enjoyable movie.

Definitely one of Pixar's funniest

I adore the energy of this, lads. I'd say it's if Luca got to have a little more pep to it. I could go on about what the design style these characters remind me of, I just know Domee Shi made the most of this honestly being Pixar's most expressive and bouncy film to date. What helps the most is the believability in this film. I love that Mei has her squad of boy band loving friends, has a bully that isn't an exaggerated douche, has a loving family that indeed wants what's best for her, better or worse, has her moments where she goes Awooga at somebody (don't lie, you did it one point), and more importantly, she has her grounded life as a growing kid with her school life and her helping with the family temple. On top of all this, in spite of initial terrors, she gets to be a giant red panda which, again, is pretty fucking cool. However...

a change in how you look can change how you perceive

The film nicely shows that becoming a red panda can lead to reevaluating your idea of life. Ya don't know where things could lead but you know it can be different. It hit close to home when Mei in the beginning feels like she's walking on easy street, she has herself figured out until... she becomes a red panda. It catches her off guard, but she works through it because she received something that she didn't really get from her mother: support. And that's carried into the conflict as Mei finds that her mom's support was as much a guiding hand as it was a developing cage that she herself had to make with her mother. If being a giant red panda can be this fucking awesome, why must her mom oppose it so much? This young panda could see the cage incoming and knew that wasn't support, what was before wasn't support, but expectations, and her mom needed to see that herself, both as a panda and as a human. I admit, the stakes for this are iffy with me, but this was nonetheless another refreshing coming of age story that I can appreciate as Pixar's shift in thematic energy. I can't 100% relate to Mei (boy bands were never my thing, and I'll just say the balls dropped sooner while the real growth came later) but I can understand what she went through. Change can come at you, fast or slow, but it's all your path.

Once again, Giant Red Panda: fucking cool as hell. This film had to try to make me hate it

Unapologetic is what I'd mainly describe this film. The premise spoke for itself and added decent, simple layers to what could've been an otherwise messy story and directorial debut. Domee Shi did great here though as I'll say this definitely reached my top ten in Pixar favorites. Not top 5, yet, but it earned it's spot. Is this biased because this was all I could've hoped for if we're talking a movie about being able to be a giant red panda? I mean, basically. I told you in the very beginning, that was never gonna change.

4 Out Of 5. A Lovably Furry, Fancy Free Type Beat

#Turning Red #pixar turning red #turning red movie #pixar #disney #movies #animation #cartoons #reviews #Good Stuff #long post #analysis

[dancingazaleas]

𖨆. 01 / all for us

summary: you wake up in a room that seems to be made specifically for you. as it turns out, it is made for you. you find that out when levi ackerman and erwin smith come in to the room and admit you aren’t allowed to leave. how are the first few days?

word count: +2.0k

warnings/notes: cursing, mentions of drugging, mentions of kidnapping, slight manipulation, abuse, violence, and starvation

YOU never thought that you would end up as a canary. a pretty yellow bird with dark dull eyes as you sat in a cage, a trap.

it all started when you met him. the devil incarnate. erwin smith.

he was charismatic young man, sitting at the age of 35 as he held the title of a prosecutor in court. you find it ironic, he puts vile criminals into jail but overlooks himself, the most vile of them all.

he met you at a café. the coffee beans were grinding in the machine at the counter, you remember how you relished in the smell.

when he first caught sight of you, you were scribbling on notebook paper with a nice black ballpoint pen. the gold framing of the pen shined in the light as you twirled it between your fingers. you looked slightly frazzled, but also at ease; something erwin was not used to seeing. you had white earbuds with the slight appearance of brown on the cords in your ears, hooked up to a laptop that you would occasionally glance at.

erwin thought you were a beauty.

you remember how he sat across from you, smoothly initiating a conversation with you. he was delighted to find out that you were a pianist along with a violinist, he loves classical music. you explained to him that you were struggling to create a song for your performance the next week, that all the music notes were just starting to contort into doodles.

when he helped you, that's when you felt grateful. you remember how he mentioned his partner, levi ackerman, and his own enjoyment of the piano. he asked for your number along with the venue where you would be performing.

you gave him the information easily, seemingly ecstatic about someone coming to your performance.

the next week after your performance, you met levi. he was curt and blunt, his difference from erwin had almost given you whiplash. luckily, you learned to adapt and you even would quip back at him playfully. it managed to make him smile, just a little. you enjoyed his company just as much as you did erwin's, something the two of them were happy about.

it wasn't until weeks later of hanging around them that it all went downhill. you went drinking with the two of them, easily complying to levi's request to drink more and more of your alcoholic beverage. it was the last drink that had you realizing that no other drink you had ever had was salty like this. you collapsed shortly after.

you remember waking up in a room, decorated to accommodate you and your interests. there was a white bookshelf that had gold framing splayed onto it with a vast selection of novels. there were three soft and plush chairs by the bookshelf with a soft rug underneath. a small coffee table sat in the middle of the rug.

there was a large bay window with a gorgeous view of a colorful and bio-diverse garden. cushions and throw pillows were placed onto the windowsill, another place for you to sit. the bed you'd awoken in was a queen, heavy cotton sheets messily spread across the bed. around the the room and even on the ceiling were soft yellow lights disguised as vines. directly across from the bed was a vanity and above that hung a nice flat screen TV. the night stands beside your bed held lamps and small knick knacks that you could entertain yourself with.

there were three doors. one to the left of your bed, one to the right of your bed, and one to the right of your television. you found out later that the one by your television was a small bathroom with nothing but a toilet and sink. the door to your right side of the bed was a walk-in closet that was decorated in clothing you'd never be able to afford.

you remember how after that, levi and erwin barged in as you panicked and started to pace around the room. you remember defying them, cursing them, hitting them, kicking them, and even spitting at them.

with a silent look from levi, erwin's distraught face turned slightly sad. his eyes were misty as he shuffled himself outside of the room. when levi's knee came into contact with your face, you realized why. especially whenever the gushing of blood dripped out of your nose and his voice screamed that none of this was their fault, but your's instead.

but now, levi was once again punishing you. you hadn't meant to do it. you hadn't meant to slap erwin. while you had a panic attack, your muscles thrashed without your command and you ended up slapping erwin across his face. you were secretly satisfied when you saw the pained look he gave you, but it immediately turned to dread whenever levi's rough hands pulled at your hair.

he's kicking you once again, and he occasionally accompanies it with a harsh slap.

"i didn't mean to, i didn't mean to!!!" your sobs sound so broken as you land on your side from levi kicking you.

levi ignores you, forcing you to stare at erwin, who sits at the door of your bed with that same neutral look sprinkled with pain.

"please!!!" you plead as you squeeze your eyes shut, "please, i didn't mean to!! i didn't meant to hit him!!"

levi stops his assaults, staring at your cowering form from above. the collar around your neck connected with chains clang against each other as you wearily raise your head.

erwin and levi are expecting a small whimper of pleas, but instead they watch as you slam your head against the hardwood floor. it has you reeling but even so, you continue. you're slipping into another violent mental breakdown, head banging against the floor as your other hand punches at your hipbone continuously.

your teeth are gritted as you start banging your ankle against the ground.

within seconds, levi and erwin are moving you onto your bed and holding down your thrashing limbs. they're murmuring sweet nothings to you, a hand on your forehead holding your head down against the pillow. you sob out again, entering the stage of hyperventilation and wails. erwin is crying along with you while levi just reminds you to breathe.

levi's hands are pressing your's on his chest and over his heart. his heartbeat guides you into stable breathing. when you've calmed down, you enter the shutdown stage.

"there we go," erwin praises and strokes a thumb against your cheekbone, "back to breathing."

levi stares at his boyfriend, who’s muttering something in your ear, but turns his attention back to you whenever you let out a small grunt.

"she wants to watch a movie," erwin says, pressing kisses to your cheek.

"any movie in particular? if not, i'll put on scooby doo; i remember you saying that it comforted you once," he grumbles while he turns on the television.

you don't answer, unsurprisingly, and levi puts on 'what's new, scooby doo?' for you. levi lays back next to you, cuddling into your warm and unmoving body.

it takes two episodes of watching the show for you to start letting out small, yet forced, giggles at some parts of the show. it takes two more for you to be able to speak again.

"food," that's all you said.

erwin shakes his head and wags a finger, "how do you ask properly?"

"can i have some food, please," you sound so tired.

the two men nod and leave your room to get you a meal. you sit up quietly and look down to your hands. they always left your hands untouched, seemingly trying to protect them from the abuse that levi would put onto you.

"stupid, fucking stupid," you spat, "this is their fault, not mine. their fault, their fault, their fault."

you drill the words into your head, but are soon interrupted whenever erwin enters the room with a tray of food.

"you're even sitting up now," he acknowledges while he puts the tray on the bed in front of you.

you thank him quietly and try to ignore the large hand stroking your hair.

"i love you," he doesn't. you don't do this to those you love. zeke never did this to you.

erwin frowns at your silence, hand now tilting your face to look at him. instead of love, your eyes were filled to the brim with hatred.

"you'll come to love us soon enough," he has no ounce of emotion on his face as his finger softly rubs against your skin.

"i doubt it," you mumble and force your face out of his hand. you just want to eat.

when you look down at the tray, you notice the absence of forks and knives. it has your stomach dropping.

"i'm feeding you," erwin says, fork between his long fingers, "we can't trust you with knives just yet."

erwin stabs the fork into cut up chicken breast on your plate, holding it up to your chapped lips. you stare at the food, had it been drugged?

"i don't want to be fed."

"that's too bad. you're being fed anyway, we can't trust you with forks either just yet," he grabs ahold of your jaw and forces your head to turn towards him.

his thumb and index finger squeeze your cheeks, forcing your mouth open with ease. you jerk away at the food suddenly being forced down your throat, hacking as if you were trying to get it up.

"let me chew first," you cough, handing reaching to touch gently at your adam's apple.

erwin doesn’t respond, opting to put another piece of the food onto the fork. he holds it out towards you, patiently waiting for you to stop choking and to eat again. you clear your throat, the idea of willingly letting erwin feed you makes you sick. you don't want to submit.

"i won't eat anything if you don't let me use the fork myself," you feel a headache coming on, fingers now pressing against your temples.

"then i guess you just won't eat," he says with a hint of sadness, taking the tray back into his hands.

you're so hungry. and the smell of the grilled chicken breast with a side of mashed potatoes isn't helping. you don't want to submit. you can't submit, you won't survive.

"guess that's settled then," you flop back down onto your back.

it wasn't the answer or reaction that erwin was expecting, judging by his widened eyes and stiff posture. he relaxes as he shakes his head in disapproval, walking out of the room and locking the door behind him.

you stare blankly at the ceiling while trying to ignore the growling of your stomach. your head hurts from the lack of food, another thing you're trying to ignore.

you turn on your side, but immediately cry out in pain. levi's earlier assault was starting to form bruises on your body, and the idea that you couldn't even curl into a ball made you want to cry. you hiss when you shuffle back onto your back, ignoring the searing pain that shoots through your ribs and sides.

your eyelids feel heavy after you settle down for a while, finally able to ignore all of the pain you've endured.

————

when you wake up, it's raining. there's not much natural light coming into your room, which you're okay with.

a pang of pain shoots through your head when you sit up, hands immediately grabbing at your hair and nails digging into your scalp. the tugging of your hair made your headache a little more bearable even if it was for a second.

the sound of your stomach growling and chains clinking echos through the quiet room, causing you to look down at your stomach. the chains are cold against your skin, tiny shivers spreading across your stomach.

you sigh and get yourself out of the bed. you walk to your bathroom, peeing with your face buried in your hands on the toilet. you ignore the fluorescent lights, which make your head hurt worse, and wash your hands aggressively.

you look up in the mirror as you do so, but you wish you hadn't. your eyes were puffy from the tears you shed yesterday and there's now a bruise on your swollen cheek from levi's smacking. you hold back the urge to punch the mirror, instead wiping your hands off with a towel and chucking it at the wall. you slam the door behind you and start to walk pass the three chairs meant for you, erwin, and levi. a wave of dizziness has you stopping and holding onto it, eyes instinctively squeezing shut.

when it passes, you grab a book and a throw blanket that's sat on top of one of the chairs. you settle onto the cushions of the bay window, taking a moment to stare at the rain falling.

you open the book, 'perks of being a wallflower', and find yourself lost in the words.

it's when levi comes in with a tray of food that you realize an hour or so has passed. he looks shocked to see you sitting and reading in silence, checking his watch as if he were making sure he didn't wake up late.

"got you food since erwin had to go to work. it's belgium waffles with some fruit and bacon on the side," he sits down next to your, now, curled up legs and puts the tray on the opposite side of him.

you wince at the mention of food and at curling your legs close. it doesn't go unnoticed.

"maybe if you didn't act out you wouldn't be in so much pain now," he says, holding out a piece of the waffle and a hand under to make sure the syrup doesn't drip onto the blanket.

"i'm not going to be fed. i'm not a child," you stare at the food.

"you're going to starve to death if you don't eat. quit being stubborn and fucking eat. i don't feel like cleaning up a body," he snarls and you resist the urge to kick his hand away.

"if you let me feed myself, i'll eat. then, you won't have to worry about digging me a hole."

"you haven't earned that privilege. we feed you for now."

"then i guess i don't eat," your eyebrows are furrowed as you stare at him.

"you're stupid. you'll end up dying."

"rather die than be fed like a child."

"you've got some pride. maybe i can beat it out of you," he drops the fork onto the plate.

"if you beat me anymore then you might actually have to worry about a body," you avert your eyes back to your book.

"if it's what needs to be done," he crosses his arms, "speaking of bodies, your's reeks."

"i don't have a shower in my bathroom, i can't help you with that issue," you shrug and flip the page.

"you can."

"i'm not letting you bathe me either. i'm not stupid. if you're feeding me then you're obviously going to be bathing me."

he chuckles a little at your defiance, but you know it's forced. you can smell the frustration on his body and your ego inflates knowing that you're the one who got him to be like that.

"when you decide you want to live, knock at the door and call for me," he grabs the tray and leaves the room, once again locking the door behind him.

"i can wait eight more days before i die."

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #levi x reader #levi ackerman #shingeki no kyoujin levi #levi attack on titan #snk levi #erwin x levi #erwin smith #snk erwin #erwin x reader #aot erwin #dark content #sorrels.allforus💒

[theimpossiblehologramtree]

Making Queen members flower crowns would include

Pairing: Queen members x reader

Word count: (altogether) 1800+

Warnings: some sickening fluff, oh and swearing but that’s a standard, some slightly suggestive themes in john’s (implied sex) but nothing accually happens except a kiss

A/N: Hello you beautiful people! I’m back (don’t get used to that tho lol) I thought of this two years ago when i first saw Bohemian Rhapsody (SO 2 FUCKING YEARS AGO). Freddie’s is gender neutral. I tried to add a “keep reading” button but I’m not sure it works tbh because this hell of a side never cooperates.

Please keep in mind that English is not my first language.

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Gifs aren’t mine. Credits to the owners.

Brian May

You were laying on Brian's lap, the sun hitting your face pleasantly. This week the weather was nice and warm, which was something extremely unusual in England, so the two of you decided to head out to the country and have a little picnic.

After what felt like hours spent in the car ("Brian, for Christ's sake, would you open the bloody window, I can't breathe!" and "Bri, I love you, but if we don't get there in five minutes, I'm going to murder you, I swear") you finally found a nice clearing, where you could relax and forget about the stresses of city life.

Brian put down a blanket on the grass, near a small stream that flew through the forest. He brought the bag with food and drinks (you didn't have a basket, so you had to improvise). 

You quickly put some sunscreen on your face and laid down, keeping your head propped on Brian's lap. He put a hat over his face and fell asleep, his chest rising steadily. 

After some time (that fucking wasp didn't let you sit in one place), you stood up and noticed many beautiful flowers, growing on a nearby bush. You got lost in picking up the most beautiful ones, admiring each one carefully. When you got enough, you sat back down and started tying the stems together.

Suddenly you got an idea. Careful not to wake him up, you began sticking the flowers in Brian's dark curls. 

Your now decorated boyfriend woke up and stretched, not noticing the colourful addition to his hair. This made you chuckle softly, but you decided to see how long it would take him to realize.

+"What is it, babe? Do I have something on my face?"

"No, Bri, I just remembered a funny joke, that's all."

"Oh tell me, then."

"What’s the difference between a lawnmower and an electric guitar?"

"Hm?"

"You can tune a lawnmower!"

You both enjoyed the rest of the day swimming in the stream, sunbathing and eating the snack you brought. And Brian somehow still didn't notice.

Until it was time for you to get home.

You got in the car ("Open the window now, it's like in the oven in here!") and Brian looked into the rear-view mirror.

+"Hey, (Y/N), what the fuck is that? I love it."

Roger Taylor

So honestly it would probably happen during one of his concerts.

You were backstage watching the show, enjoying every second of it. Freddie was in the middle of shouting some (very inappropriate) compliments to Brian's ass, slapping his buttcheeks. The crowd immediately went wild hundreds of fans screamed in unison. You chuckled under your breath, flashing a white smile at your beloved boyfriend Roger and his bandmates. You felt an arm wrap around your shoulders. Surprised, you turned around, your eyes meeting Mary's.

+"What's up, kiddo?" she smirked and patted your back.

"Oh, nothing much. Just Freddie being Freddie," you replied, making both of you erupt with laughter.

Suddenly you felt a familiar feeling form in the pit of your stomach. Out of nowhere, your hands became shaky, your breath shallow and quick. Feeling like you need some fresh air, you excused yourself.

+"Are you sure you're okay, (Y/N)?" Mary watched you carefully, her hand supporting you in case you fainted.

"Yes, Mary, I just need some fresh air. I'm extremely tired, and I haven't eaten anything since this morning" you reassured your friend. "I'm just gonna sit outside for a while."

"Do you want me to come with you?" she asked, still not convinced about your well-being.

"Yes, I wouldn't want to spoil the gig for you. I'll be back before you know it" you squeezed her hand and, after promising her to be careful, you headed outside.

You took a walk alongside the small patch of lawn beside the exit. After taking a couple of deep breaths, you noticed some daisies grow in the green grass. Without thinking much, you sat down and started picking them up and tying their stems together.

Your fingers worked quickly, making a beautiful flower crown, mindlessly.

Meanwhile, on stage, the boys were singing She makes me - a song that reminded Roger of you. He quickly glanced to his right, expecting to see your beautiful figure standing with Mary. But, much to his surprise, he couldn't see you anywhere. It was no secret that his eyesight was shit but, bloody hell, it wasn't that bad. His blue eyes were searching for you, frantically.

When the song ended, he quickly motioned to Freddie to take a quick break, while he went to check up on you. He practically sprinted to Mary, almost knocking down his drumkit and John.

+"You dumb fuck, watch where you're going, Rog!"

Usually, Roger would reply with some snarky comment, but at that moment he really didn't care. When he reached Mary, he didn't even need to ask her about you. 

+"She's outside. Needed some fresh air" the girl shooked her head towards the exit. 

Roger quickly walked outside, knowing that he couldn't stall the audience for too long. But at the same time, he must have made sure you were all right.  

He got out of the building and searched for you. He spotted to sitting on a small patch of grass, holding a pretty flower crown in your hands. His heart ached at this sight. 

+"Hello, love" he whispered, kneeling next to you. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I am, Rog" you kissed his cheek. "I just felt a bit off, that's all." 

You felt your boyfriend press a kiss to your hair. You smiled at the feeling, leaning into his touch. 

You finally placed the finished flower crown on his head, brushing away loose strands of sweaty hair from his face, your hand gently brushing his temple. He took your tiny hands in his and kissed your fingers.

+"Do you wanna go back in there, sweetheart?" he asked sweetly, looking deeply into your eyes.

You nodded and pecked his lips, "Of course, Rog, I wouldn't want to miss any more of your show."

He smiled and lead you inside, placing his hand on the small of your back. You returned to Mary and wished your boyfriend good luck. 

Roger kept the flowers on his head throughout the whole gig, sending you a dashing smile and winking at you every now and again.

I just think Roger would look sososo pretty in a flower crown.

John Deacon

It was a lovely afternoon in London. You and your fiancé John decided to take a walk after the whole day in the studio, recording songs.

Taking a walk in a nearby park was a great way to destress and release the tension accumulated during the day. It was something John realized pretty early on in your relationship and took full advantage of it. He loved wandering along the pebbled pathways that swirled around beautiful trees and bushes full of colourful flowers. Being in the presence of nature made him feel at ease and helped him relax.

But the real reason why he enjoyed your walks so much was you. He adored seeing your face light up with joy when you saw a squirrel run up a branch of an old oak or when you spotted a particularly beautiful fish in the small pond. He could watch you pick up fallen leaves for ages and hear you talk to little kids in a playground, showing them the shiny rocks you collected along the way.

To be honest, he always dreamt about starting a family with you and seeing you get along with kids so well only increased that desire.

Often after a walk, he was in the mood™, which, considering his shy nature, always took you by surprise.

Oh man, he just loved taking a walk in the park.

And today was no different.

You were walking hand in hand, admiring the blossoming flowers. Occasionally, you would stop and pick them up, making a small bouquet in the process. White daisies, pink clovers and blue forget-me-nots accumulated with every step you took.

John was telling you about the new idea he had for a song, kissing your cheek every now and again.

Listening to him, you started to fiddle with the flowers, tying them in knots. After a while ("And then, I think, we could include a gong, you know?") you were done with your creation.

You put the flowers on John's head and kissed his temple.

+"What's that, darling?" he asked you, surprised.

"Nothing, but I think you look sensational, my love" you replied, smiling innocently.

You felt John's hand bring you closer to him. He kissed you, entangling his long and incredibly skilled fingers in your hair. The kiss soon turned into more heated one.

+"I'll show you how sensational I really am, pretty girl."

Freddie Mercury

So with Freddie, it was probably at one of his parties.

He invited you along to have a drink with him and his bandmates.

You usually weren't the one for big and loud parties, but he kept asking you and you gave in.

+"Oh okay, Fred, I'll do it," you said after the twentieth time he had asked you.

"Fantastic, (Y/N)!" he exclaimed, loudly clapping his hands. "Just remember to wear a costume."

But you didn't really want to dress up in fancy dresses or costumes from different eras. Calling Mary, you asked her for advice and she told you to just wear some accessories.

So before the party, you went to a small flower shop and bought a small bouquet of purple lilacs. At home, you made a flower crown, hoping that dressing up as a nymph would be enough.

When you got to Freddie's house, you were greeted by a crowd of people in colourful skirts and suits with fashionable patterns. That's when you found Freddie, Roger, Brian and John, chilling on a couch with their dates.

+"Oh, (Y/N), you look marvellous, darling!" exclaimed Freddie dressed as a king, while he stood up to embrace you in a warm hug.

"Thank you, Fred, I made it myself" you smiled shyly.

You got some champagne and joined the conversation.

Suddenly, you felt a pat on your shoulder, and, when you turned around, you saw Freddie holding out a hand to you, asking you to dance with him. You gladly accepted and got up. 

+"I really meant it, darling. You do look marvellous tonight" he whispered in your ear.

"Thank you, Freddie, you can have it if you'd like" you sent him a warm smile.

You took off his golden crown and set it aside. Gently taking off the flower crown from your head, you placed it on top of Fred's. He beamed at you and put his own crown on top of your head.

+"Now you rule here, darling."

taglist

#queen #queen x reader #brian may #roger taylor #john deacon #freddie mercury #ben!roger #gwilym!brian #joe mazello!john #majka writes #brian may x reader #roger taylor x reader #john deacon x reader #freddie mercury x reader #ben!roger taylor x reader #gwilym!brian x reader #joe!john deacon x reader #ben hardy!roger taylor x reader #gwil!brian may x reader #gwilym lee!brian may x reader #ben hardy x reader #gwilym lee x reader #joe mazello x reader #bohemian rhapsody

[babylooneytoonz]

Warnings: ANGST // REVELATIONS // TEARS // Sort of cried while reading Bucky parts // Bucky doesn't deserve this :((

Please find links to all the parts in my Masterlist here.💗

You were looking at Bucky so intensely, trying to listen to his words, let them sink in, that you didn't notice a man walking towards you. Neither did Bucky. You were so engrossed, for you had never heard this man talk of those times, infact, he had never said anything remotely closer to you than curses and grunts. This felt refreshing.

"Well, look who's here."

A voice snapped you back into reality, a frown creasing over your forehead.

"Wallis?"

For some reason, you were thankful when Bucky stepped towards you, the side of your arm now brushing against the fabric of his tshirt. He was quiet, but you knew he was watching.

"Since when do you date? From what I had heard, you hadn't landed yourself a man since we broke up."

"Life is more than just having a man, Wallis." You drawled on a smile, not failing to notice a flash of a frown grow over his forehead that he was quick to mask.

"Well aren't you going to introduce me to your man?"

That's when you turned towards Bucky, a faint blush paving its way to your cheeks. You didn't know why, but a current; a sudden surge of electricity flew through you when he called him your man.

"Who the hell are you?" Bucky finally spoke.

"My lousy ass of an ex husband who couldn't keep his cock in his pants," you retorted.

"You still let that affect you, don't you?" He smirked, causing you to stiffen slightly.

Bucky felt you tense up next to him but the warmth that you felt radiating from him was suddenly stripped away from you. But it was only when you saw Bucky wall up to him, towering over him with a glare equivalent to death in his eyes.

"You do know who I am right? I would walk away I were you. And leave her the hell alone, I'd fear my life that can be taken away with just whisk of my arm," you kept watching, as Bucky flexed the fingers on his metallic arm slightly, the arm glistening underneath the pale moonlight. You finally found your footing, and your numbness subsided, and ignoring the buzzing in the back of your head and the throbbing headache in your temple, you found yourself walking up to the men, only to place your arm on Bucky's arm, slowly drawing his arm down so you could take his hand, coiling your fingers against the cool metal.

You didn't know why it happened, and you didn't understand the logistics, but you suddenly felt safe, and you felt warm, although the icy metal was like ice against your skin. It even felt better when Bucky looked down, his eyes trailing over the way you were holding his hand, and he just tightened the grip, not wanting to let your hand drop.

"Let's go Bucky, he isn't worth it."

He nodded, and giving him one glare he turned around, still holding your hand, as the two of you walked away.

"You know, you always play the victim card, using how I cheated on you, but do you ever tell the others what you did? And what I lost? Because of you?"

The venom in his words was enough for you to stop walking, your heart beating wildly inside your chest. It had been a long time you had let yourself think of this, but now, the old wounds had been scratched, and the raw, seething pain was back.

"Why don't you tell the world what you did? And what you didn't do? You keep sitting on this high pedestal, and pretend that it's only you that has been treated like this, but news flash, you're just as guilty as I am."

The tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down your face, your chin trembling like that of a two year old. You had zoned yourself out completely now, Wallis' words playing in the back of your mind repeatedly, like bullets being emptied into your heart.

"Bucky," you managed to whisper, your voice low and broken, "take me home."

You were so lost in your thoughts; you paid no heed to the sick, cracking sound that echoed for a split second when Bucky's metal fist collided with Wallis' jaw, or the groan of pain that escaped his lips as he crashed against the cold concrete floor, holding his bleeding jaw. You could only hear the static in your head, when Bucky draped his arm protectively around your shoulder, and pulled you to him, his voice trying to call you back, but you were too gone, too deep into the water to swim back out, you were drowning in your own head.

"Let's get you back now, yeah? Doll, you're okay."

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

You were obnoxiously quiet all the way back to the Stark Towers. Bucky still hadn't let go off your hand, and he hadn't tried to make small talk with you, something you really appreciated right now. You couldn't talk, you didn't have the energy to, and neither the will.

The minute the elevators flung open, the two of you came face to face with Sam, Wanda, and Steve, who was leaning against the wall, his eyes giving the two of you the looks; the tiniest of smirks playing against his lips. Bucky watched, as Sam's lips parted, and he was about to say something, but at the right time Bucky brought up his palm, and motioned towards him to let it be, and all the smirks on their faces just died, worry filling them up instead.

Bucky quietly turned towards your apartment, walking you down the hallway, still holding your hand as you quietly followed him, your eyes lowered to the floor, while the three behind you followed the two of you, confused, but concerned about your well-being.

"I'll be right out, punk." Bucky said in a low voice to his bestfriend, who understood, that perhaps you needed your space right now, so he nodded and stopped following you, watching Bucky and you disappear into your apartment.

You sat down against the edge of the bed, slowly lifting up your eyes until you had your eyes trained on the super soldier. Your heart ached at the sight; he was standing by your walk in closet, confused, looking for something that you could probably wear for the night, something more comfortable.

"Hey, where do you, uh, keep your –"

Finally, after what felt like ages, you gave him a weak smile, and he gave you one back. You stood up, slowly walking up to him and placing your palm gently on his flesh arm.

"I've got it Buck, thank you, for everything you've done. You can go talk to Steve while I get changed. Yeah?"

You didn't mean to do it, and you had tried so hard for him to not feel like you were kicking him out, sending him away, but it did look like a bit of hurt flashed in his eyes, before he quickly masked it, and nodded, giving you a smile just for the show.

"Well then, I'll be back in my apartment, you can just call me on my cell if you, well, we do have Friday." He said, in a low monotone.

The two of you stayed like that for a few seconds, your heart melting just by gazing into his blues, when he slowly took a step away, ready to leave. You didn't let go of his hand, causing him to stop walking and turn slightly, gazing at how you were still holding his hand like a little lost child.

"I don't want to be alone, I was wondering if, well–"

A soft smile broke out against the corner of his lips, and a faint nod on his face.

"I'll be back, I just need to let them know you're okay. They are worried about you."

"I know." You nodded, both of you walking in different directions; one out of your apartment door, and the other into the closet.

You pulled out a plain white knee length frock, unbuttoning your jeans and rolling it down, until you stepped out of it. You then took off the shirt, hanging it neatly on one of the racks, so you could be reminded of taking the clothes out for laundry. Sliding your neck through it, you pulled the frock over your body, rolling it over until it fell to your knees.

Your eyes were feeling heavy, but you didn't wish to go to sleep. Instead, you laid down, pulling the covers partially over you and started staring at the ceiling. A sudden, hollow feeling hit you and you couldn't stop thinking about the things Wallis had spoken.

You had made mistakes, but there was not a single night you didn't wish to undo the things you had done, and hope that the things had gone differently.

Your chain of thoughts were broken when you heard Bucky walk in. He looked strained, but his shoulders relaxed the minute he saw you laying in bed. You turned your neck towards him, giving him a slow smile as you watched him walk towards the other side of the bed, lowering himself against the edge.

He got into bed with you, the weight of the other side of the bed now heavy. This made you realize, this was the first time you had let a man into your bed, and also perhaps, into your heart, after whatever happened two years back. Reflexively, you rolled over, until you found yourself in Bucky's embrace, your face buried into his chest, fitting like a perfect piece of a puzzle under the crook of his neck.

He smelled perfect.

His flesh hand came to rest at the back of your head, stroking over your scalp in a soft and soothing movement of fingers.

Finally, he took a deep breath and mumbled, his voice low and soft.

"I've seen many horrors, doll. And I thought I could never get back to who I used to be."

You blinked, looking up at him.

"But I realized one thing, although it didn't make the pain go away, talking about things made it easier to bear."

You almost sniffled a sob upon hearing his words, but Bucky heard you and he looked down at you, gazing into your eyes, until he leaned in and planted a soft, chaste kiss to your nose.

"They did monstrous things to me Y/N. Things I cannot even tell you, but I still am here, am I not ? "

You sighed into his embrace, resting your forehead against his sturdy chest, wanting to cry, to let it all out, but that would make you weak. And you didn't want to let this man see how weak you truly felt, how small as compared to the rest of the world.

"I wish it were that easy, letting go. You really can't let go Buck when your actions are responsible for someone innocent losing their life."

He almost raised an eyebrow but he didn't ask you what you meant. You only bit your lip, licking over your dry lower lip as you started thinking back again of how you could have done things differently.

"Well were once happy Buck, me and Wallis. We were in love, we were newly married. And then one day, he came along."

"Who did, doll?"

His ask was so raw, so innocent, you couldn't stop talking. So you did, pouring your heart out to a man who you had known for mere weeks.

"Danny, our son."

You felt Bucky stiffen slightly, but he didn't let go off you, he still held you to his chest, mumbling a small, but audible hum, to let you know that he was listening.

"He was the most perfect thing that ever was. He had my eyes, and he didn't cry. What baby never cries Bucky?" You chuckled, through your tears, that were now freely flowing down your eyes.

The truth was, Bucky couldn't understand all this; these emotions were new to him. He never had his own family, and he didn't understand what it was like having a son. Maybe though, he did think that it wouldn't have been bad, to have his own family, something that he had thought of back in the 1940s, but now, he couldn't anymore for he was not the same man he used to be.

"Well he never cried. He was one hell of a happy kid I tell you. Anyway, he was growing up so fast, and life was good. My boy was two already, and before I knew he was always running around our house, breaking things, knocking my fucking vases off the cabinets," the two of you were grinning at each other just thinking of a toddler running around the house, breaking things.

Until you sombred up, and the smile washed off your face.

"It was three nights after his third birthday, and Danny was with me, at home. Wallis was out, as usual, so I decided we would go take a walk, I really needed to clear my head."

You didn't realize that your lips were quivering now. Your eyes were already swollen, half lidded and glossy, and you were trembling like a leaf, even in the warmth that Bucky provided you, coated you in.

"It was a moonless night, and Danny wanted to have his favourite ice cream when they came out of nowhere."

"Who?" Bucky's voice got heavy suddenly, his eyes darkening two shades, his eyebrows forming a thin line.

"HYDRA."

You felt Bucky loosen his grip on you, the minute you said that word. You didn't blame him. After all, they were responsible for the mess you all were in today.

"I don't know what they wanted, but I was alone, and they were five. I failed, I failed to protect him. I could only watch–"

Bucky's finger flew up to your lips, his index pressing against your plump ones, forbidding you from speaking any further. His soft eyes looked down at you, and you could see that his eyes were moist.

"It wasn't your fault, baby."

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath; if only you could believe him.

"It wouldn't have happened, if I hadn't taken him out that night, if I would have been able to protect him–"

"You didn't know what they planned, and they were five."

You didn't reply, instead, you scooted closer into Bucky's embrace and he tightened his grip around you, pulling the covers over the two of you, his lips pressed to your forehead. You could feel his heart, because your face was pressed to his chest. His heartbeat was soothing and you found yourself relaxing to his touch, his warmth and the way he held you and your eyelids started feeling heavy.

"My son died with a fucking bullet to his skull." You suddenly pushed yourself away from Bucky and propped yourself up in bed, wrapping your arms around your frail body, pinching your eyes shut, ignoring the warm, thick tears rolling down your cheeks.

Bucky remembered talking to Steve, and how you had gone off the radar for two years and SHEILD hadn't assigned you any mission. Now he knew, that you had probably locked yourself up after what you had witnessed, and it wasn't your fault. He wanted to console you, to comfort you and he wanted to take this pain away, but he didn't know how to.

He was scared now; scared that you would shut him off, only when you were starting to open up to him.

"Y/N, it wasn't your fault."

He didn't know that his words will anger you even more, instead of calming you down. You slid out of bed, much to Bucky's surprise, and turned to face him.

"It wasn't my fault? Don't you see what I've done? Or what I could've done?"

You were screaming at him.

"You couldn't have done anything! Why don't you understand?" He slid out of bed too, almost yelling back at you in the same voice that you had used on him.

"Why the fuck would you still let that jerk get into your mind like that? Fuck your mind? He wanted this to happen, and you're letting him win," he spat, his hands on his hips.

The two of you were on the either side of the bed, giving each other a stare down.

"Bucky, you won't understand," you finally whispered, looking down at your hands, " you never had anyone to lose."

You didn't mean that. You really didn't. But now you wished you could swallow back the words you had just said. Just the look of hurt on the man's face was enough to make you feel guilty. He didn't deserve this. He didn't.

"Bucky, that's not what I meant, come here please?"

"Well, fuck, you weren't wrong. I am not used to this, having people, having connections, feelings and emotions. You're absolutely fucking right."

"Babe, I didnt–"

"But you know what? I'm okay this way. I have no fucking one to care about, or be cared for from, and I am okay with it. Because it's fucking simpler that way. Atleast it saves me the mess of being what you are today. You can't even forgive yourself for something you haven't even done."

He slid his feet into his slippers and turned away, facing the door. His hands were clenched against his sides, so hard, his knuckles were turning white. He finally started walking towards the door, when you called out.

"Where are you going?"

Your voice broke.

"To my own damn apartment, so I can be alone, like I always was."

The door slammed shut, and he was gone.

(So, thoughts anyone? 🥺)

Permanent Bucky Barnes Taglist:

@really-dont-forget-it

@thepeakygurl

@all-art-is-quite-useless

@baumarvel

@janajjj

@chipilerendi

@nyotamalfoy

@skittychat

@allidoiswritewritewrite

Want to be added to my taglist? Please fill up a form on this link. 💗

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes x reader #bucky Barnes #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #james buchanan bucky barnes #bucky barnes

[xtrash-writing-trashx420]

Cheeky Minx || John Shelby x OC

//Welcoming the New Recruit//

"Makenna Aoife MacTavish, A.K.A. Makenna Muldoon; Duchess of Glenbrook, Aged 23

Served at the Somme as a field nurse and,"

The man before me takes a pause and looks up at me in faux surprise, as if the information on the paper he's gawking at isn't exactly why he's come seeking me out, and then continues in an almost condescending manner;

"Hm... and soforth was awarded title as Duchess and Sole Proprietor of Glenbrook Estates and Enterprises in Boston for her acts of valor.," He pauses again to throw down the file he was reading and light himself a cigarette.

I take in every detail, knowing that this meeting can end up only one of two ways, and assess the scenario. Tilting my head slightly and leaning back into the armchair in front of his desk, I cross my legs; his eyes glance from his ministrations with the box of matches he's holding and zip down to my left thigh where one strip of honeyed milk lies perfectly exposed between my black leather garter holster and my thigh-high nylon stockings.

I see the slight glint of mirth cross his steel blue eyes as he catches my not-so-subtle warning and continues to light his cigarette. I watch as he pulls his drag, the way his fingers just barely drape the stick of tobacco between them without effort, the way his eyes study mine, the way his free hand keeps switching between his knee and the top of the desk.

'A gangster like this doesn't get nervous over one woman with a snubnose purse pistol... Who is he waiting for?'

"I'll take one, while your at it." He smirks at this, and goes to hand me the one he's smoking. It's my turn to smirk, as I nod to his pack.

"A new one, if you don't mind." He raises his eyebrow, but nevertheless, complies. As I lean forward to take the cigarette, he lights another match and lights it for me, leaning over his desk so I don't have to.

'A gentlemanly gangster, not too hard on the eyes either.,' I admit to myself, studying his sharp features and piercing eyes.

Finally, after what seems like ages of simply sitting across and analyzing eachother, he continues.

"You're titled Duchess of Glenbrook but the common people call you Miss Kenna. You have 15 bars, 2 breeders farms, a horse track and 27 plots of real estate, and that's just in London alone. Glenbrook Estates is what, a mansion? And it says here you have 3 vacation homes as well." He scoffs and throws the file down on his desk.

"Well, let's get on with it, Mr. Shelby, as you well know, I'm a busy woman.," My voice is far too suave for my liking, but the situation calls for a little theater. "I would assume you called me here for a reason, this is hardly the place for a business meeting with someone of my status."

I sound like a proper posh cunt, and it seems as if he's taking the bait as he groans out a sigh and leans back into his chair. He lifts a hand to rub his temples, and then slams his fist on his desk in a motion so fast and loud, I was almost startled.

Almost.

He seems unfazed my lack of reaction, and continues on.

"Let's not pretend like you don't know what I want. You have influence all over, spies everywhere, and a very high standing. Everyone knows who you are. Nothing happens without you knowing about it.-"

"-As if I don't already know that-" I snappily interject.

"And I want your men, and your cooperation when we take over London. You're the most untouchable woman in all of North America. If you tell someone not to fuck with us, they won't. And those that do, you have ways of making it so they never existed."

I frown, sinking into the armchair infront of his desk once more and taking a long drag of my smoke.

"I see."

For the next few minutes we simply stare at eachother while we finish off our smokes, picking, analyzing, contemplating. Finally, after he offers me the crystal ashtray to put out, I appraise him and ask one simple question.

"What do you want from me?"

~~~~~~~

It's been 2 months since my meeting with Thomas Shelby at his gambling den, and 6 days since our last correspondence.

"Pack what you can in a suitcase and my men will come to collect you on Thursday. You're not safe."

No explanation, no reasoning, just that little tidbit over the phone while gunshots rang true and the sounds of men fighting grumbled in the background before he abruptly hung up. And since Thursday had come and gone the day after the call, I had resorted to relieving all of my staff save for my most trusted.

The only ones left on premises were my gate guards, my doormen, and my butler amd personal guard Carleton, who had only worked for me for 2 years but I was rather well aquanted with. We had hit it off rather well, and I considered him more friend than staff. He was a tall, broad shouldered Jewish man with a scruffy, large beard and bright eyes that reminded me of a child's, with a contradictory scowl that would make a grizzly piss himself.

Initially after receiving the warning, I had brushed it off without care. Being hunted was nothing new to me after all, being a woman who had served in the war and in other more internal battles of politics. But this was different.

I remember after the call I had snorted in laughter, summing it up as a joke and continuing on with my day. I had been untouchable, faceless and anonymous since the war. Only the most internal government files and most skilled intelligence organizations even knew what I looked like, let alone my real name. That was what had led me to agree to take up business with Thomas in the first place. But 2 months into business with the bloke and I show up to my race track to find every single one of my employees and horses shot and beat to hell.

Since then, I had taken to locking myself in my art studio with my easels and paints to distract myself; though it did little to nothing to soothe my racing mind. For the millionth time in just that day, I wondered why I wasn't safe, I wondered if Thomas and his Blinders had been picked off by their enemies, I wondered if my name had been let slip by one of his lackies in a braw deal that ended badly. I couldn't understand how I had gone from being untouchable, to going into hiding.

The only constant in each equation was none other than Thomas Shelby, and I made a mental note to tear him a new asshole when I got the chance.

I gave a start, knocked from my thoughts as Carleton entered with my afternoon tea, and my paintbrush skewed off stroke.

"Oh, fuck." I swore crassly, looking around my desk to find the paint I had used on the background to cover my mistake; not noticing my butler's sarcastic and smug grin over my classless use of vulgarity.

"Your tea, and lunch, Miss Muldoon." He presented my tray with grandiose show of putting it on my desk and lifting the cover to reveal my tea and what looked to be ladyfingers and some sort of meat sandwich. I didn't care, I was starving and anxious, so I sat and ate, thankful for the distraction.

"Don't be so smug, Carleton, I'm going mad up here." I complained as I ate, gesturing around me. "That smug bastard Shelby is going to pay for this. I've lived so comfortably until now."

"Speaking of, madam, you received a telegram."

"Oh bother, burn it."

"It seems important, ma'am. It mentions the race track."

At this I lean back to look over at him, he's moved clear halfway across the room to speak, and he's shifting his weight and wringing his hands. I sigh, and wave him on. He reads it out slowly, and I "tsk" in disappointment.

"You haven't been practicing," I chastise him, pulling a "give it here" motion with my fingers and taking the telegraph from him as soon as he's close enough. "Have you even read any of the practice books I've given you?"

"...No, ma'am, it's more difficult when you're not helping."

I glance at him with an incredulous look.

"That's no excuse, and you know it." I say, finally taking a moment to look at and read the telegraph in my hands, but it doesn't matter, because as soon as I go to focus, a gunshot resounds from outside the estate by the gates.

With a start, I get up and run to the window, moving the curtains to get a better view. I hear Carleton move the opposite way, closing the doors behind him as he leaves.

I continue to watch out the window, trying to see whats happening, though not to much success. The large fountain in my front garden is centre view from this room and all I can see behind it is a motorcar at my gate and my gatemen pointing their rifles at it. As I walk along the windows to try to catch a better view, I just barely see an arm come out the window of the motorcar with a piece of paper clutched in their outstretched hand before my gatemen move to unlock the gate and let the car through.

That's all I need to see to know.

The Peaky Blinders are outside my house.

(SO this will be a series based off of a slightly Mary-Sue character but it just is part of the story, please don't hate me for it lol. It'll make sense as to why she's this massive standing character later on. She's still a normal ass broad with hormones and issues so its okay lmfao. But anywhoooo, this is basically just a filler character intro to explain why Kenna is around and stuff. John will be in the next chapter, don't worry 😉 also my dumbass didn't proof-read this because its 6:00am and I NEED sleep. )

#john shelby imagine #john shelby x reader #thomas shelby #john shelby #arthur shelby #polly shelby #michael shelby #michael gray #peaky blinders imagine #peaky fucking blinders

[selkiesblog]

The ruse(DracoX OC) Chapter 1- The plan

"mooom please, does she really have to spend the summer here???" The little boy with white silverish hair said pulling on his mother's robe ends, hiding his head over her kilt

Every June until September Saphira Jones would come to his mansion to spend the summer over the Malfoy's

It started as a tradition, the two families were quite fond of each other. Since Voldemort first vanished and the rumors of his return started. The Malfoy's needed to reassure their family's safety and economic stability in case of things gone wrong during the rise of death eaters and late battle. So they made a pact that neither of the children would know: for every year until they turn a majority age, they would unite their families in expectation of a great match. And not until then deny or agree with a marriage proposal, that should be made

Draco utterly despised every second and Saphira knew it, so she would try to make his life just as miserable as hers, the only problem is that the game they both plays of twisting and pulling each other until one or another give up or break was never-ending

He would bark she would bite

As a child, they would fight over toys

"Mooom!!! Saphira stole my broom!!" He cried

"No, I did not!!"

Sometimes she would indeed steal his toys and hide in the most inconvenient of places cause at the very young age she would be more advanced in spells than he, a fact that she would- till this day- constantly remind him.

"You did!! Stop lying!!"

But this time she didn't

Oh no, he was just having fun getting her in trouble.

"Safira, give him his broom!" Her mother stepped in the light

before she could deny his allegations or make any more of her comments she heard a snap and by pulling her hear she was dragged into her room "that's it!! No wand for a week!" He smirked through his fake tears

And it got worse as it got physical. In school he will do whatever it takes to provoke her, pulling her long brown braids, pushing through the halls, calling her names until she snapped over him with her hand in a fist. She got -10 points to Gryffindor's he got a red-eye

Summer came and there she was again cuffed to him like a second skin

"Kneel," he said

"No you kneel" she pushed him

"No, I'm older than you"

"And I'm richer than you"

"Enough both of you!!!" Narcissa said "now Saphira, kneel" she took a large breath, she went down reverencing like a Princess only less charmingly. He puffed his chest with pride and kept his back straight smirking with victory "now you kiss her hand" they both looked at Narcissa who seemed with her patience on the edge, both hands in her temples. Draco not into hearing more of his mother's speeches on how the Yule ball was a very important event and that he was going to make a fool of himself if he didn't know the proper steps. Soon he raised her hand to meet his lips and planted a kiss there

The music started, slower. Saphira still taken by surprise with his action crumbled over his pace, stepping on his foot. The music started again and again until she got it right, only when it was time for him to spin her and catch he let her fall

Fifteen and It was time for pranks that she learned from the Weasley twins, Fred and George. Colorful bombs in his dorm room or shoes that would fart every time he walked, name it she has it

"Never heard of it?"

"What does it do?"

"It tickles the skin non-stop until the person breaks in laugh"

"Rather harmless..." Fred started

"But very affective" George finished

"Okay!..." She whispered to herself "Rictumsempra"

In the tall estate of the games, missing one point to Slytherin score 150 and Draco catch the golden snitch. He started twisting on his broom, having a pit of a contagious laugh. Everyone started to making fun until he lost balance and crush in the dirt of the ground

She was shaking when they took him to Papoula Pomfrey, he had hit his head but the problem was in his broken arm. He was still conscious when they asked him what happened, he just looked at her, and said "I lost balance and fall"

He lied?

It didn't make sense, he knew it was her and he wouldn't tell her off? He would always tell her off. Draco was the boy who would do everything in his reach to get her in trouble, wasn't he? Did he beat his head so hard that he has forgotten he hates her? Was he gonna use it to his advantage, just waiting for the right moment to strike like a snake?

While he was asleep she stayed up all night on his side, guild kicking in, anxiety keeping her awake, looming at his facials expression as he slept. That night Saphira discovered many things...

first one: Draco talked in his sleep

"No, No I won't fail you"

he woke in shook in the morning, sweat dripping from his forehead, breathing heavily

"Are you feeling better?" She asked ready to question why didn't he told dumbledore it was her who cursed him

"Yes" he simply said

Second one: don't trust the Weasleys with spells

"It was a really hard crash" she sighed "unfortunately I have some bad news" he positioned steadily in the bed frowning "you fall so hard and ground that your face fractured" he quickly turned to the mirror on his side " now you look normal"

His delicate lips had a small cut in them, nothing scandalous, but he looked angry as he turned at her, his serious serious expression turned into a grin. They both laughed immensely for a couple of seconds and stared at each other not knowing what to say, or do.

"Draco?" A small voice echoed in the corner of the room

"H-Hi pansy!" He said

Suddenly it was a weird atmosphere that broke through the windows as she had just crossed nearly headless nick for the first time

"I'm gonna live your two alone" heading out the door, leaving space for the both to talk she realizes the Third one: she was completely head over heels in love with Draco Malfoy

And every time she would catch him snogging pansy in the corner of the halls, kissing the length of the neck, or overheard them talking, she would get this feeling of nausea on the bottom of her stomach

"You're jealous!" Hermione said

"Why would she be jealous?" Ron asked with his mouth full, she never so gentle smacked his head with her hand pointing at the way pansy would play with Draco hair

"He doesn't even like it in the middle part," Saphira said playing with the vegetables on her plate with her fork, not hungry at all

"You gonna eat that? " Ron asked

"Wait...you like Draco? " Harry asked, "why?"

"I don't like him!!!"

"Okay...But you spent every summer with him, it's a little suspicious"

"It's because of my family you know that"

"Have you ever considered confessing your feelings to him?" Hermione again asked

" I don't like him," she said again loudly "even so, he doesn't see me that way"

But the thought lingered in her mind for a couple of weeks, weeks-long enough for the students already know that Malfoy would keep his Summers busy with her. Suddenly everyone knew and assumed the same thing that Hermione did

"Are you dating Malfoy?"

"How long are you guys together?"

"What about Pansy?"

"Is he a good kisser?"

Overwhelmed by the random questions and thoughts she went to talk with Draco personally until found him talking with Blaise and his friends "come on guys, I'm not dating her" he laughs "she not even my type" he said making an ugly face "I am just is stuck with her through the Summers cause she so annoying and boring that even her parents don't want her around" he quickly realized the words that had just come out of his mouth and shut

There was so much truth in those words, the truth that she never wanted to admit nor she could. She was adopted, it's true, people didn't know and those who knew certainly didn't talk about that.

When two purebloods decide to adopt a magic muggle-born, the elite society doesn't take it very well, first of all, it's illegal. Second: the chance of dishonoring the bloodline and status of the family by polluting their legacy mixing their divergence with a "mudblood", it a risk that no one should take, even a mother who lost her child at early birth; a bare family in an empty nest; a tree rotten in its core. She was embarrassed, only for a couple of seconds, soon she was filled with the very familiar feeling that emerged in her mind of angst

She got a suspension when the school heard from her that she had used a spell against a student and wounded him during a game of quidditch. Sitting on the bench Draco looked at her stiffed

"Why did you tell them?"

"My parents are going to move me to

Beauxbatons school" he looked worrisome that she almost felt pity "then I won't have to trouble you with my annoyingly boring behavior" she was about to get up when she felt his hand on her wrist twirling her body close to his, too close even

"Is this what you want?" She felt his mint breath in her cheeks and shivered over the wooden cologne

"W-what I-?"

" You wanna ruin everything don't you?" Her stomach filled with butterflies "our parent's plans, the secret, you found out and now you wanna ruin it"

Instantly the short moment went away, she stepped out of his intense gaze and unlocked her wrist

"Secret?"

"Why do you think you would come every summer to my house?" He said

"obviously isn't because we're so friends"

"Our parent's plans all along were that we would be more than that, I guarantee you" the words hissed against her thoughts, it was all so obvious now "marriage, Saphira, they want us to be wedd"

She felt like crying, run away like a little girl who just found out that Santa isn't real. She felt like breaking. Draco was bounded to her, stuck with a girl that he doesn't want

Making his life miserable as hers

"Draco, hear me, loud and clear," she said crying out, he never saw her tears, but that day it poured like a stormy rain

"you will never, never marry me. I give you that" alone with his thoughts, he builds his first wall

You're free

That summer she didn't come. It was his darkest summer, that gloomed into his mind like clouds over a parade

_____

"Will you fail me, boy?" Voldemort whispered

"No, my Lord"

#draco malfoy #harry potter #fiction #fanfic #pride and prejudice #pansy parkinson #theodore nott #romance #wattapad #bridgerton

[jrctolkien]

don't blame me for falling, iii

read the first and second part!!

pairing: tom holland x reader

summary: he comes back to town after years and years, and the press are just eating it up and you're falling too hard and too fast

an; how unnecessary long can I make this challenge. also how dumb can I make this challenge lmao why is elon musk in this chapter?? I don't know!!

the news was, at first, too far fetched to be true. 

but as the months passed and the seasons changed and frost covered the green, green grass you could no longer look at, the fact that Tom Holland Had Quit Acting sunk with a finality into the world and its people.

when you were young and sweet and when your favourite colour was blue and you were so adamant that you hated pink, you remembered how much tom liked to act, be a dramatic idiot over the tiniest of things. how, if a teacher tried to send him out of the classroom, he'd whine and groan with the essence of a shakespearian actor. how, when summer term rolled around, he auditioned for every any role he could, dancing and prancing around the drama studio in front of you and harrison at lunchtimes. how, when he was fifteen, he had left to go have a shot at a life-changing part, bagging almost everything he could until he hit the big one: spiderman homecoming came out and the entire town rallied about the little boy on the big screen.

in his interviews, the subjects were far and few, all whittling down to one thing; why? his answer made no sense to but a few, "it was a little squiggle I did when I was young."

the tattoo on your ankle, the stick and poke you had done on a slow january evening when you were fourteen, the little squiggle that looked like a three with a somewhat long tail, the tattoo that had stayed infected for weeks and weeks. it burned into your skin, even after it had long faded, even after tom had left you and his hands were nowhere near your knees, even ten years on when you watched the occasional interview, eyes yearning to look at the way he sighed and heaved like his world had fallen to pieces, wishing you could reach out and stroke the pain away with a small smile.

"why?"

"I left too much behind." he once replied.  

"do you not like it?"

"I just think that he left a lot behind." you had once replied in an interview you regretted greatly. "perhaps a bit too much, too soon."

 london was a huge city.

the tall buildings and the exotic smells and the crowded pathways were unfamiliar to you, and you couldn't leave the apartment without harrison for a good week before you braved it by yourself.

 the greys of the buildings built a small, weak wall around your soul and when you shook tom's hand for the first time in half a year, it didn't warm you from your skin to your bones to your soul and it unsettled you in a way you couldn't describe.

london was foreign, and you hated it. you regretted taking the job there and you missed your friends and the familiar roads and the familiar smells and the lack of cameras that were around whenever you were with tom.

it had been a true mistake becoming his assistant, carrying his files and not talking to him like you used to. it was your fault, simply nodding and smiling whenever he made a joke only you would get, brushing him off like you thoughts you should've for so many years.

summer in london was the worst.

tom, ceo of a tech company now, was busiest in the warm weather and you could feel your forehead start to sweat even as you sat in the comfortable air conditioning in his car.

"what happened?" tom's voice was soft and the tentativeness of it made your heart clench.

"pardon?"

"to us." 

it was an unfamiliar topic, one the two of you always purposefully swayed from.

"you're my boss now." you answered after a pause. 

and then the silence enveloped the two of you again, only being broken by harrison's loud voice when you arrived at his apartment, tonya waddling behind him, all tummy, all beams and smiles. 

"baby!" you giggled, sinking into the hug tonya gave you. she had become a close friend, letting you stay and get on your feet upon arriving in london, watching bad tv shows and movies with you late into the night.

your neck was wet to touch, the heat unbearable out in the sun. you fanned yourself with such vigor it offset tonya, who looked at your hand with such a sharpness you felt as though she'd frozen it. 

"come in, come in." her voice was like honey, thick and goopy and smooth. she led the group of four into her home and a smile appeared on your face at the appearance of harrison's hands steady a few inches away from his very pregnant wife's back. life had been good for the two of them, the horrors of the world hidden out of view like they'd been kicked underneath the sofa. god had been kind to the two of them, and it showed in the golden glow of their faces when they smiled, and the crows feet already appearing on the twenty four year old harrison, smile upon smile that crinkled his eyes and his entire face, dimples appearing like he was a scrunched up piece of paper. tonya was still tall and leggy and her hair had been coloured by the sun, a beautiful shining gold that matched the darker strips across her nose and cheekbones. 

your grey skirt was stiff and tight around your legs and you frowned at tom, who was also fidgeting with his outfit. the suit that had been shrunk by the dry cleaners was stretched painfully across his slumped shoulders and frown lines had begun to appear on his cheeks and chin, as young as he was. life had been rough for him since his abrupt job change, many long nights and many people wondering what this young boy had to say, had to do about the current advancements in the technological world. now, half a year later, his company was off on its feet, taking its first few steps into the harsh world. 

"do you want a drink?" tonya offered, hand already holding a cold can of coke. you accepted it gratefully, stiffening as you felt tom place his hand on your back. he was inches away, breath fanning onto your forehead as he read an email, eyebrows furrowed. 

a soft hum was music to your ears, despite the grumbly undertone it had. he looked up at tonya, then to harrison stood behind her, "we have to go, im so sorry."

you glared at him, and you would've glared at yourself if you could for the whiney tone you took. "we just got here." you complained, "she could have a baby by the next time we visit!"

tom's frown focused on you and your heart flinched as he snapped, "unless you want to keep your job, which, might I remind you, I gave to you with no prior interview, you're not going to complain."

"oi, mate," harrison's cool voice butted in and he placed a tanned hand on tom's shoulder. it was a familiar action, where he would tighten his hand a little much, clap the shoulder just a tad too hard, his grin stretched and hiding malice in it. it was a trick of harrison's, in the i-just-wanna-vibe bloke kind of way, clap a hand on tom's, or yours, or a drunken stranger's shoulder, stand tall, too tall, and hulk his shoulders and his neck out in a way that always made you laugh. harrison always made you laugh.

tom was quiet, you saying your goodbyes for him - 'we'll be back before this little man pops out, I promise!'- and was fiddly and stiff and loose and a nervous wreck all over in the car, tugging at his collar until it became wrinkled, his eyes a little crazed. 

"soo," you dragged out, your warm breath breaking the icy tension in the room, "what we doing today, boss?"

"mr musk is here." tom said, and his voice was shaky and your heart clenched. when you were thirteen, or perhaps fourteen, or maybe even fifteen, (or perhaps forever), you had cared for tom so much that you every one of his mannerisms down to a tee. the tapping of his expensive shoes on the car floor? too much coffee, which you had learnt when tom had discovered it at the blooming age of thirteen, when he had carried it around in this cute pink thermos you and harrison had bought for him. the way his head twitched to the right after a long, hard couple of days was barely there, but you would always know, his shoulders stiffening and his jaw clenching as he tried to stay as resolutely still as possible. you knew him to a tee, you knew how he felt, you knew how he ate, you knew how he loved.

and that was, perhaps, why the wall between you was so thick and hard to crack. you knew how he loved and you knew that he knew the way you loved. you were loving each other at different paces, in different ways, in different dimensions, but in the same unobtainable, scary way that everybody loves.

"elon musk?" you whispered, your voice making tom's fingers thrum with warmth.

he nodded, brown, scared eyes gazing at you. "well, ok." you hurried, heart pounding in your chest so loudly you could almost feel it in your fingers. "that's fine, that's cool. don't you worry, he makes cars."

"and flamethrowers." tom's voice was shaky, and the playfulness dripped off in such a way that you winced.

"well, hopefully he'll lend me one to burn that bloody honker off your face."

"oi!" tom waved a finger at you and you laughed, drifting into a comfortable silence that was bordering on uncomfortable, all at tom's fault of course. his nervousness came off his in huge, tsunami-like waves that soaked you through to the marrows of your bones.

the car came to a slow stop outside the office, parking between two expensive black cars. the sun was scorching as you stepped out, puffing and almost burning your hand on the heat of the chassis.

"bloody hell." tom breathed, tugging on his collar once more. "it's fucking boiling."

you hummed in agreement, laughing at a memory, "remember when-"

"yeah." tom agreed , eyes crinkling at the edges. "almost late for temple, wasn't he?"

you nodded, the memory of your brother frankie falling asleep at his mate's on a warm, stifling summer's day one june floating in the air between the two of you. your mother had shouted at him, so loud the entire neighborhood had heard, and you and your sister esther had hid in the rabbit coop to escape her wrath, the comfortable smell of grass soaking into your clothes. 

you had hid there once again, years and years later, when frankie had lost his voice breaks and the ie at the end of his name, and had set off to war in some foreign country. your mother had shouted then, in english and french and yiddish, but your brother had heard none of it, setting off two weeks later. 

"is he still,," tom trailed off, hand twitching towards you. you shook your head, lips pursed. he had been killed by a stranger in a foreign land, and the person you nor your mother knew who had gone to collect his body had been killed too. 

"right." tom moved a hand to you and you smiled a shaky smile hands reaching up to his neck to find some sense of comfort.

"can't see mr musk all raggedy looking, now." your voice was playful, light, but it shook as you touched his neck.

the stiff collar creased under your fingers with ease, and you slipped it back into place, flush against his sunburnt skin. his tie was in a muddle, and it resembled that of a fourteen year olds so much so that you let out a giggle, sliding it up to his top button. you lingered, eyes looking up into his face.

so, so, close.

he wasn't smiling, no, but his eyes held a warmth that told of bygone days, when your ma would cook the two of you a hot apple pie, when you would wade about in the paddling pool of the only bloody nature park in your town with your shorts wet at the hem, when you would camp out in the frozen aisles of supermarkets before being kicked out, the warm sun a constant on your young backs. 

his eyes were pools of honey, the sticky brown of them golden in the sunlight, wrinkled around the edges in the way that spoke of love and fun. the two of you were aging, and the world was moving around you at a steady pace and the two of you were still figuring things out, your hearts guarded but your eyes true.

his face was rough with the beginnings of stubble and the sun drying it out, but you were stood stroking his cheek so what would it matter anyway. the way he leaned into your thumb, fractionally but with so much care made your heart thump and your breath catch. the domesticity of it scared you, and so did his eyes and his nose and his lips and the way he knew you so well and the way you knew him. it was so familiar, being this close to him, like visiting your parents at the holidays with the snow falling and being scared about what they'd think of your hair and your clothes and the accent that had been created anew and the way you laughed like the world was yours.

"I'm sorry." his voice was quiet against the din of london but he was so, so close that it just slipped into your ears like how he slipped and slotted into your life perfectly, filling all the missing gaps. "for leaving. so much." 

you took a shuddering breath and slid your hands down to his shoulders, giving them a friendly clap. "can't keep a billionaire waiting, tommo!"

it was harsh, perhaps, but however hard tom was pushing to get to the heart that was sure to be soft putty in his hands, you couldn't dare let him. for your heart was soft and made of putty, malleable and so easily thrown out after use. you didn't want him to leave one day and put it on the kitchen counter like his keys those many, many years ago.

elon musk was a remarkable man,and the way he spoke was so eloquent, in a messy way that reminded you so much of the world.

"your company is that of the stars, mr holland," he had spoke, his hands a blur in the air in front of you. it was rather nice, the motion fanning your boiling skin. 

he had left in an even quicker blur, the smell of expensive cologne and pricey suits trailing after him. your body mourned the loss of his hands, but was rather please at the addition of a pair of oh so very familiar hands.

"so?"

"so." you answered. elon had proposed a few things that were all very unclear and far and few, his american voice harsh in your little english head. 

"I don't make cars." tom breathed, tugging on his collar with a small smile.

"no we don't." you smiled back at him, the sun shining just a little brighter. 

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #don't blame me for falling #dbmff #sorry this out a little late I hate it :)))) #mine #masterlist

[v-hope]

His members upset you

Pairings: Park Jimin / Kim Taehyung / Jeon Jeongguk x Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff

Request: "Please do “His members upset you” but the maknae line ❤️❤️❤️❤️ btw your writing is amazing"

A/N: The hyung line's one can be found in my masterlist 💞 Also, I realised I always make Jimin's reactions angsty so I changed things up a little bit hehe.

Park Jimin

“Baby…” Jimin gave you a questioning look, “heels?”

“What about it?” you wondered, standing up after having put them on and walking towards one of the mirrors in the store. “Don't you like how I look in them?”

“They make your legs look fantastic” he gushed immediately, making his way over to you. “But I thought you found them uncomfortable?”

“I just want to try something new” you simply replied.

However, once the two of you were back at the dorms after your shopping day, Jimin for some reason started to feel like the intention behind buying high heels was not only you wanting to try something new, but you wanting to look taller.

And his realisation kinda had to do with the words Hoseok had said later that day, when all of you were having dinner and Jimin told them about the things you guys had bought earlier.

“I hope this is just for aesthetics because you'll still be the shortest person we've met”.

Now, you had never considered yourself a short person, nor had the rest of the people you had met through your life, for your height was actually pretty average for a woman your age.

But you were shorter than Jimin.

With that, plus being also a little shorter than the others’ partners, you were officially the shortest of the group, and you were reminded of that by all of them every single time they had the chance to. It was as if all the height related jokes that used to be directed at your boyfriend had been transferred to you. And you were not very fond of it, to be honest.

One look at you was all Jimin needed to know it was definitely not about you wanting to experiment new things. No, this was about your height and you being self conscious.

He could not let that happen.

“Okay, new rule” he drew everyone's attention, “no one is allowed to make fun of Y/N's height”.

Yoongi smirked. “You do know that means all our jokes are going back to being directed at you, right?”

“Yes, I know, you hypocrite who's only one centimeter taller than me” your boyfriend's bold words made everyone laugh. Everyone but Yoongi, that's for sure.

Not minding about that, and focusing only on the bright smile he had managed to get from you, Jimin pulled you towards him, pressing his lips to your temple.

“Only I can tease my shorty from now on”.

Well, you guessed that was one of the perks that came with being your boyfriend. And as a reward for having sacrificed himself for you, of course.

Kim Taehyung

Taehyung was a very affectionate person. And just like that, he expected his significant other to be the same, which is why he absolutely lived for your daily calls and constant visits when you knew he was free from work. They were the highlight of his day, to say the least.

So, when you stopped doing so out of the blue, it was normal for his mood to drop a little bit. But he thought nothing of it. Maybe you were just busy.

When you started also blowing off his intentions of going to see you, however, he knew something was definitely wrong – that being confirmed when you had him beg you for hours to go see him to the dorms one evening.

“Oh, look who's back!” Namjoon announced after seeing Tae open the front door for you.

“Couldn't live any longer without your oxygen TaeTae?” Jeongguk teased from the sofa.

You felt Taehyung tense by your side, making you close your eyes. This was exactly what you didn't want to confront.

“What the hell was that?” he snapped by your side, leaving you behind to go face his members.

“Nothing” Jin was the one to speak up, “it's just funny how clingy she is”.

Tae's eyes went straight to fix on yours. “Is this why you've been so distant lately?” he softly asked; his heart hurting once you tried to turn around and leave without a word.

He was fast to grab your hand, though, pulling you to his body and protectively squeezing your upper arm before his stare turned cold as he focused it back on his friends.

“I don't appreciate you calling my girlfriend that. Especially when it's so far from the truth”.

“We just thought you–”

“Well, you thought wrong” he cut Hoseok off. “I love having her around and it's really not your place to make such comments. If I considered her clingy I would've talked to her. Talked” he emphasised, “because mocking her like you've been doing is straight up rude”.

“Taehyung-ssi” Jimin tried to explain, “we didn't think it'd upset you so much, we were just messing around”.

“You've upset her, of course I'm getting upset too. Besides, how could I not when Y/N's been distancing herself from me? I thought I had done something wrong but turns out it was you guys?” he furrowed his eyebrows.

“Tae–”

“No” it was fair to say, Taehyung was livid. “You know she's my escape from this crazy life we live, and you don't get to decide the dynamics of our relationship for us”.

By this point, all of them were just sitting there with their lowered heads, not knowing what to say.

But Tae for sure did.

“I want you all to apologise to her. Right now”.

Jeon Jeongguk

Although Jeongguk and you had been dating for nearly a year now, everything was still pretty new not only to him, since he had never been in a serious relationship before due to his busy schedule, but also to his members.

Which is why they had all freaked out when Jin was cleaning up around the dorms one day and found a black lingerie bra that most definitely did not belong to his girlfriend – and after asking around one by one, the truth came out by Jeongguk that it was yours.

Now, his hyungs trusted that you guys were being safe and all, but you were still babies to them. That being the reason they would fake cry every time any sexual topic was touched in your presence.

And it came a point when you started feeling like what you guys were doing was wrong, which Jeongguk had denied the second you let him know your thoughts. You were a couple, for crying out loud, how could that be wrong?

But he said nothing, not wanting to seem disrespectful towards his hyungs. Of course, that until they were the ones to make you really upset. Jeongguk knew then where his priorities were.

“Okay, you all need to stop this now” he finally snapped one evening, furiously closing the door right after he came back from dropping you off at yours. Everyone stood frozen.

“Wha–”

“I'm not a baby anymore!” he threw his arms up in frustration.

“Jeongguk, we know that…”

“No, you don't” he furrowed his eyebrows, “because you still treat me like one. I know I'm the maknae here but I'm an adult now. Y/N's an adult!” he said as if it was brand new information, “and you have no right to make her feel bad about her sexual life. About our sexual life” he corrected.

“Guk-ah” Taehyung looked at him apologetically, just like the rest, “we're sorry, we didn't know it bothered you guys so much”.

Jeongguk sighed, trying to calm himself down.

“I know, just… please, stop” he pleaded, “she was supposed to stay over tonight but you really upset her today with all your comments to the point she just wanted to leave, and I… I hate seeing her like that” he weakly shrugged.

Watching Joon open his mouth to talk, he stopped him by shaking his head.

“Whatever, I'll go back to hers. Be back tomorrow”.

Because he both just wanted to be with you and didn't feel like being with his hyungs right then.

And maybe then, just then, it hit them all, the fact that their maknae was no longer a little boy and shouldn't be treated like one anymore.

#bts #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #bts fluff #bts angst #jimin fluff #taehyung angst #jungkook angst #bts imagines #bts reactions #bts scenarios #kpop #kpop fanfic #bts fanfic #bts x reader #jimin imagines #taehyung imagines #jungkook imagines #jungkook fluff #taehyung fluff

[indomitablemegnolia]

In this petty paced drudgery that called life it is trusted that time is linear; it is trusted that the setting of the sun will happen in just about twelve hours after it rises; it is trusted that each day when it is ended, it is done; ah, but not all time works that way. Some days are nine hundred and eighty hours long marches through the arid deserts of the unknown with not a drop of water for sustenance; some days are torturous hours sitting in a waiting room on hard plastic chairs to hear the same bad news repeatedly; some days are millions of years long with just the droning ticking-n-tocking of a clock and not enough life or will to sit up or even breathe; and some days you recognize the sinuous travels of time as it curves and bends, turning loops in a devious path of graceful treachery, it loops around repeating, crossing over on itself, and winding its way along those days; I know I have been experiencing these days thousands of times; the only thing that changes is pieces of conversations, a breeze for a half hour during the end of the day, possibly the clothes I wear, but not always; in all actuality, it never changes, not one little bit does this horrible hell alter. Then I feel that time passes again; there is no, how long; I have no watch; and time like this can’t be marked on any watch anyway.

Then, that Goddamn the date, 10/10, how can so much stack up on a set of numbers, the day I was nearly murdered, 10/10 the day I lost my home, 10/10, even just he idea of 10 makes me want to vomit; this year it hit me like a falling mountain 18 years. Anger flared; hate, god I hate, suddenly the tremors and the night terrors made sense, the headaches, the unexplained bruising, the feeling of dread on even a sunny day, panic attacks from accidentally using three coffee filters instead of just the one; then checking the weather told me what my subconscious was screaming for weeks; I realize; why am I always slow to realize, as always in this temporal loop it hits me like a 2x4 in the temple; that no, time doesn’t always proceed dutifully, uniformly, minute per minute each sixty seconds long into eternity; the past in horribly living memory comes to me; the screams, the pain, ripping, the scent of blood mixed with terrible human smell; then I am stuck in that temporal loop that just repeats until I reach that one day where the loop resets, replays for what seems like an eternity of only me stuck in a solitary cell and when I am trying to back myself down talking out the fear, anxiety and pain that is not really there but I still felt it as if the blood hadn’t yet dried; there is no distinction between past and present, flashbacks and demons come to torment me; Fate herself participates for the, as she calls it, fun part, it is nothing but this hellish illusion, a masquerade of pain; flashes of past creep in even while I am doing something as inane as driving, causing an ache in the current; I watch even the few I trust to know everything laugh uncomfortably as I joke about what happened, what happens and this little place in the universe I call my existence, and I know that I can not and will not call present; for if this is a gift from god, I know he isn’t god and I needn’t worry, this was a penance that I bare for bad deeds in another life; I know the next rising of the sun will only continue this; there is no yesterday, today or tomorrow they are just a connection of moments in a never-ending monotony that kills what is left of my soul and confirms to me that, yes, there is a hell, and I didn’t have to die to find it.

God I realize other things as well as if I didn’t have enough to hold my tears back; there have often been accused of not feeling and I have even wished that I didn’t feel, but I feel that a lot, actually, unlike in the movies when this realization comes there are no bags to pack, no plan to form, no zombies to kill or alien invasions to counter; there is no urgent telegram or speeding car at midnight; there is no help even in the flagging form of a beguiling contortionist or an out of luck hit man; this is just a dark legacy of immutable horrors of the past; and this realization doesn’t come with space nor time to undo. I always would perk myself up with the idea, that I want to be alive before my death that I know is coming and soon and it will be long and filled with much pain; I see the beauty and the possible in life, though I have always had to look at the small and intractable to see possibility; I tried to live in the idea that unlikely does happen, but now at my age, in my state, and being me, there is none. What shocks the virtuous philosopher that lives in the A.M. station in my brain and almost delights the guerilla poet shock-talk D.J. that mine most unpoetic of all existence; realizing that better days are gone. I am oddly acquiesced to the idea; there will be no great love this lifetime, possibly even in the next, no guarantees; no kisses, god I loved kisses; no possibility of warmth, caring; in truth no one will ever love me, gag, how very Jane Austin. In truth I had already assumed that as it was I would turn out to be one of those unsmiling acid-faced women that sit behind little desks in offices, stamping received dates on accounts receivable invoices and that was fine; though I had always hoped for just a someone would spend a the small number of hours I have with me, lingering, smiling at me, genuine laughs as we walk slowly to the door uncomfortable in the leaving reminders to bundle up and warm hug as you forget your scarf as a reason to come back, simple and stupid as it is. I was never one to plan or dream of weddings, though I might have a humdinger of a funeral if anyone were to come; no anniversaries...no careers...no children. God, I never was good with kids, but I imagined I would be a good parent... now, the closest I come is cradling a kitten as he sleeps, I pull him tight and rock; I am a mad cat lady, who hopes for 6 more months.

I understand that no end is an ending, but I am now too old, soo very old the 198 .8 years I have passed in my 40, weigh too heavy; no drug can lessen this pain, no alcohol can dull these edges, but in so being free of the distraction what did I learn? Only the kinds of things hidden in post-apocalyptic stories. Bradbury and Orwell cover it better...

Why? Why did I live this life, I am not sure, I suppose someone had to... I am not even a blip to humanity; a balancing of the scales so to speak; and still the universe rejects me?

Perhaps I am right, and hell is here, how very disappointing.

In all this vasty universe, I had three wishes... god, why keep them safe now. A home of my own, a place I don't have to beg for the honour of paying so much; happiness, simple kiss, stupid wake up dig in dirt, grow things, build things, frustrated, stupid, happiness; and a place for my words... Why let them out on a day like this? Why is it any different than waiting for birthday candles or a coin flung midway on a bridge for a troll to grant or New Year’s eve... as none of those panned out, I am going to the day of dead and dying, if the gods can't hear, possibly the fallen can; although I hold hope at bay with a cattle prod and a 3-foot sword. This is my truth… I suppose there are two kinds of truth; the kind that lights the way for all to see, the second warms the heart; the first being science the second being art; as this is neither this may well be just the cautionary tale to pay attention in school or mix that phthalo blue a little better; we are all connected in a never-ending circle. Everything is connected...

Fuuck

@keeper0fthestars @pedeka @writernotwaiting @iamhisgloriouspurpose @anastasiaoftheironwood

[inktae]

So a fic I wish you would write... honestly whatever you want to write tbh lol. When you enjoy writing something it's usually 100%, but for the sake of the game... maybe a fallen angel au? You're always great with Aus like that. I can't really think of a plot right off the top of my head, but I think maybe Tae or Jungkook for it? Ahh I'm sorry this is isn't much context! I'm curious to see what you come up with (but if you don't want to/can't think of anything, don't feel pressured 💕).

so I had a somewhat small idea for a drabble, and then I started writing, and it quickly turned 1.7k WOOPS but anyway, it’s still kinda short and I applaud myself for that :’D I hope you like this!!! it was super fun to write!

It feels like the war has been going on forever.

You cannot lie — the thrill was made for you, just as you were made for it. Apocalypse days are rough and cold, they drag on and slow down time, clocks struggling to tick as they bleed out the painful minutes that belong to a fight that does not seem to stop. Even so, it feels like you may be deserving of it all — that it is your place to be in the midst of such catastrophe, one that rings with the screams of dying humans and the shrieks of those other things.

The city you once knew changed its colors a long time ago, and the vibrant shades of life have now turned into lonely blues tainted with specks of red. Dawn no longer brings drowsy good mornings and warm cups of coffee, but rather an uneasiness that your body knows as well as your own breathing. A thick sheen of caution will follow you throughout the day then, fading when the night comes and you manage to fall asleep — only to be awoken hours later to the fresh twinge of fear all over again.

It is what you are used to, though. After all, you were taught to stand in the middle of war and grasp it with your own hands, to feel grounded despite the inevitable end of your world.

However, there is one person that does not allow you to settle in ways you wish you could.

“Will this be our home until we die?” your friend and coworker, Park Jimin, asked one night — six months after the monsters fell from the sky and brought hell to Earth, three months after the city fell into an eerie silence brought by death and defeat. The last standing humans had already left, not too long ago, but you and your only two friends still remained. The police station that used to be your workplace quickly turned into a home and hideout, which felt more than right for a workaholic like yourself.

“Well, we do belong here,” you said back from your spot by the shuttered window, clumsily sealed with wood planks. You liked to sit there at night and observe through the thin gaps the wood didn’t manage to cover, getting a glimpse of the dead night that not even the bravest fighter was willing to face.

“I don’t think we do,” he said, which made you turn in his direction. Laying on his back on the tattered couch of the station’s waiting room, he quietly stared at the ceiling, deep in thought and faraway from this narrow place. “At least I don’t. And I hope you also see it one day— that you don’t deserve this fate.”

Those strange, whispered words have stuck with you until today, one year after the apocalypse began. They keep your hope teetering on the edge, unable to fall and disintegrate like you wish it did. That minuscule part of you keeps you from giving up, keeps the weak flame of a candle from fading and reminds you that even if you desire to accept this as your fate, Jimin does not, and that should be more than enough not to give up.

That weak candle flame shines even brighter the day Kim Namjoon, your other partner and former boss, receives you at the abandoned station with a look in his face that makes you shiver from head to toe. You just completed your daily hunting round, check ups that became extremely tedious after the city got completely wiped out of humans and monsters alike.

The look on Namjoon’s face is one you have not seen in ages — and you immediately know what it means the moment you walk inside the station in hurried, frantic steps, sounds of faint shuffling and groaning stirring from one of the offices.

“One of them?” you ask, voice thin and almost breathless. Namjoon’s nod makes you stumble towards the source of the noise, heart almost stopping when you enter the office and see Jimin is already there, pale and frozen and eyes fixed on the other end of the room.

The thing is hunched against one of the corners. It is tied down, bloodied and dirty, barely moving as it weakly struggles to free itself. Having seen countless of them already, you can already tell it is starving for a kill, though it is too fatigued to do much about it.

“We found it behind the station. He was clearly on the verge of death, so we managed to take him in easily,” Jimin explains softly, as if not wanting for the beast to hear him. 

You should be used to the sight of their eyes, but it makes your heart race all the same. The unnatural grey of its orbs gently shines as if there was a flame behind its eyes, not so vivid due to its clear weakness, but still strikingly bright when compared to a human’s eyes. Despite its tiredness, the thing looks back at you openly, defiantly, as if daring you to come closer.

“Be careful, Y/N,” Jimin says from behind you, making you realize that you have been taking steps closer unconsciously. You immediately stop, never looking away from the monster’s gaze. “It’s a fallen one.”

“Don’t call it that,” you snap back sternly, grimacing at your friend’s quiet words. “It’s not a fallen one. It’s not an angel. It’s a monster.”

If there is anything you loathe the most from the ending of the world as you know it, is the name humanity gave to their prosecutors — angels, as if they came to save you all, as if your world’s fate is justified. You can understand why that word would come to someone’s mind; after all, their majestic snowy wings seemed more holy than dangerous at first, but what they do with their own hands should immediately rip that name out of everyone’s lips.

There is absolutely nothing holy about the things their kind has done.

Of course, with that label also came the fallen, monsters that go as far as ripping off their own wings so as to try and mix with humans, infiltrate in their homes and hideouts to carry out their vicious killings. You have no doubt that the thing in front of you is more insane than your usual monster — the fallen are particularly feared for their madness and lack of fear, their seemingly thirst for disaster and their wicked indifference towards causing themselves pain.

Then again, you never called them angels. They were always monsters to you — and your fear is as steady and firm as your hatred is, barely flinching as you step closer and kneel down in front of the dying creature.

And in its grey eyes you see more than depraved intents and a history of tragedy. You see way more than terror and the extinction of your race — you see a flicker of hope you have been trying to find for as long as you can remember.

“Seems like you are the infamous group of cops that were banned from what’s left of your weak society,” the thing says, voice rough and sickly, barely showing signs of life as it spits blood on the floor. “Why am I here? Do you want to be friends? Because I am all for that. I should thank you for saving so many of us angels back then. Though I guess that made all of your human friends hate you.”

You are unfazed by his words, though you can hear Jimin shuffling uncomfortably behind you. You take out your gun and press it against its temple, and you watch its defiant, slightly amused eyes as a quiet smile lifts your lips, one that makes the satisfied look on the monster’s face waver.

“No, monster. You are our ticket back to society.”

Jimin gasps at your words. Looking back, you feel your chest swell at the glazed over look on his face — finally showing a vivid yearning that was staring to lose its gleam. “We’re taking him to the safe zone, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” you say, voice softening. “We will offer him as our apology. They have to accept it, Jimin. And then we will get in, and you will finally be safe—”

“Good luck with that,” the monster interrupts beside you, coughing. You hit the side of its head with your gun, making it grunt in pain. You get up, observing with a frown as it starts to smile again through the pain. “And since we are going to be friends, you should call me Taehyung.”

The sudden strike of anger makes you kick him on the side, reeling in satisfaction at the howl of pain it lets out. You are immediately pulled away by Jimin, who frantically whispers in your ear that you need to keep the monster alive for it to be of any value.

“You make me sick,” you seethe, making the monster smile again.

“You didn’t say the same thing when you fell for one of us months ago.”

You gulp, staring into its eyes for a few seconds before suddenly stomping out of the room, gaze unfocused and breathing sharp as you walk towards the entrance of the police station. You faintly hear both Namjoon and Jimin calling your name, but you tune them out as you walk outside and inhale the pungent air, wishing it was not thick with the musty remnants of an endless war. You miss the freshness of it all, the noise, the life — as hectic as it all was, you are still human, and it is draining to pretend you do not need it all back.

Because no matter how many times you fuck up, no matter how many times you fail humanity and betray them, you still need them to survive, and Jimin and Namjoon do, too.

And this fallen angel may be your only chance to redeem yourself.

A monster named Taehyung.

#messages #stillgotmydignitae #writing game