#{ as if it’s not clear already of him being a mama’s boy }

[pyredez]

Leo definitely helps with chores (even if he complains sometimes). He can cook but also helps whoever does, sets tables, cleans tables, helps with dishes, and other such things like that. This comes from helping his mom around the house, always wanting to help when he could.

[chuluoyi]

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 02:33 P.M 」

based on this video. this idea has been rotting in my brain for some while :') dad gojo will always have a soft spot in my heart <3

a part of gojo's love entries

your baby’s first trip to aquarium was such a cute affair you were sure you wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

“waaa~” your baby’s eyes were gleaming with wonder as he gazed at the diverse array of colorful fishes above him, completely captivated by the view.

and your husband...

“aren’t they pretty, hmm?” satoru asked his adorable son with a grin, pecking his cheek and holding him snugly in the baby carrier against his chest, with a backpack of baby essentials strapped on his back.

he was the very vision of a domestic dad, and along with your son, who was dressed in a bear onesie, complete with two little ears, they made a really irresistible pair. even you couldn’t fault the crowd for staring at them.

“fwaa! waa~” your munchkin was squirming with joy, his tiny fingers stretching out towards the sight before him. satoru giggled, moving closer to the glass to give his baby a better view.

“look! that’s clownfish! and those wiggly flowers are anemone! and that is—”

he faltered at a fish passing in his view before deciding, “this— i don’t know, but it’s the clownfish’s friend!”

they are basically the same. your little boy and your husband, both of them clearly shared a brain cell as they happily pointed out different fishes.

“meh! hehe!” your baby babbled away, excited and incredibly happy in his father’s hold, and satoru too seemed to feel the same, as his eyes beyond that sunglasses crinkled.

“damn, my kid is so cute.”

suddenly he dived down and pretended to chew his pumpkin’s chubby cheeks, effectively making him squeal in glee.

and oh lord, the way your heart skipped a beat seeing that. it was so clear how much satoru adored your baby, and it made overwhelming warmth rush to your chest.

“he’s a good man,” an elderly lady beside you suddenly remarked, making you turn to her. “not many men do that for their kids.”

“he is…” you agreed with a shy smile.

“it’s a shame that you only have one baby,” the elderly man beside her—possibly her husband—added. “you’re still young and he is so good with them too.”

your heart swelled and would’ve already burst if it was possible. bashfully, you thanked the elderly pair as they went on their way.

and along the way, you received similar hushed comments and adoring looks—

“oh my! their baby is so cute!”

“how can such family exists?! the dad, mom, baby… all three of them are so good-looking!”

“such a hot dilf! can’t he divorce his wife and marry me instead? i’ll be his kid’s stepmother gladly!”

satoru pretended not to hear, but he clearly held back his laugh. you threw the school girl who carelessly blurted that a pointed look, making her scurry away.

and after the three of you were done walking around the aquarium, you stopped by the gift shop to get your baby his first fish pet.

your son suddenly became fussy, and satoru unclasped him from the carrier. “hmm? do you want mama?” he handed him over to you. “here, here~ mama wants to hold you too~”

as soon as your son was settled in your embrace, he giggled, and you couldn’t help but bounce him and coo. “do you have fun? you do, don’t you?”

it might not visible to others, but now satoru was staring at both of his reasons of being with literal stars in his eyes.

several years ago, he thought his life had stopped when his best friend negated his beliefs entirely, but you were there, holding his hand throughout it all. and then you married him— and then, you gave him a son to dote on.

you keep giving his life a new meaning. and he was thankful for that.

. . . meanwhile, you kept hearing whispers from a gaggle of girls in the next aisle, about how much of a dreamboat your husband in his blue shirt was and it was grating at your nerves so much that you pursed your lips into a total pout.

satoru thought you were the cutest, not even second to his baby, and he decided he wasn’t known for public decency anyway so he dived in and pecked your lips—dispelling any stray thoughts and making you flush in an instant.

“sato—!”

and before you could rebuke him, he whispered in your ear:

“so... baby number two, when?”

[miyaagis]

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ ‐I desire violently—and I wait. gojo satoru

political unions are means to strengthen a clan, and you were lucky enough to willingly accept his affections and give him an heir—a son. so, why does he need backup heirs from other women?

explicit content‐mdni. ₊˚⊹ ⚝ clan head!gojo, wife+mom!reader, infidelity, hurt little comfort, angst, jealousy, gojo being a boy dad, unnamed three-year-old baby gojo, pet names (honey, love), mentions of breeding and pregnancy.

word c. ₊˚⊹ ᰔ a bit over 1,000

clan head gojo art inspo

the gojo estate had always been blessed with bright landscapes during winter.

gray skies blended seamlessly with the light colored buildings, graced by the light rain (even with monsoon season still months away) and a calm atmosphere brought by the cold mornings.

"fishie c'mere."

your son wiggled his little fingers inside the water of the fishpond, squealing in delight when a fish splashed next to him. the three-year-old turned to look at you, bright eyes shimmering with mirth and child-like wonder.

"kōhaku!"

still crouched next to the pond, he loudly repeated what he had been taught recently by his governess.

even at his young age, his curiosity for the world surrounding him seemed endless, constantly having the clan's nannies on their toes only to get his way with that charming smile he clearly inherited from satoru.

"is that my mochi!?"

the exaggerated gasp from your husband quickly caught the little boy's attention, searching for his dad by turning his head left and right.

satoru's grip around his son came from behind, his little sandals falling from his feet as he's thrown up in the air before landing safely in his father's arms.

"papa, look! kōhaku!"

your husband gasps, dangling the boy over the pond as they watched the fish swim, "woahhh! my son is so smart!"

the little boy giggled as satoru littered his chubby cheeks with kisses, getting thrown over his dad's shoulder as they made their way towards you.

"good morning, my love," he leaned down to peck your lips, smiling tenderly at you. "has the little squirt been giving you any trouble?"

"he woke up an hour ago" you sighed, and he could perfectly picture you handling the cranky boy all by yourself.

"mama, i'm hungry." your son whined, letting his head fall against satoru's shoulder as he pouted adorably. "tummy hurts."

"go wash up, I'll handle breakfast," seeing the tired look on your face, he knew he had to cut you some slack and do his part as a parent. "take as long as you need, sweetheart."

with a kiss on your temple and a thankful smile from you, he sent you back to your shared bedroom while he took your little one to the kitchen.

"c'mon, mochi. let's go make mama something yummy."

—

two hours earlier.

satoru felt the warm embrace of his mistress nuzzling against him, her arms wrapped around his middle, and their legs tangled together under the thick comforter.

the sun wasn't even up, but the birds already chirped loudly through the window.

her faint sigh caught his attention, pulling her closer by throwing her leg over his hip while caressing the smooth surface of her thigh. they didn't even bother with clothes the night before, cocooning against each other after falling limply on the bed.

small kisses had warmth blooming on her skin, the comforting heat shared between their nude bodies as they stayed cuddled together.

"again?"

the clear disbelief in her tone made him chuckle, grunting softly as he pulled half of her body on top of his.

"I have to make sure it takes."

she hummed and smiled sleepily, pressing her lips onto his as he nudged her bare folds with the crown of his shaft right before sinking in her warmth.

they both felt their bodies ease up in relief, soft sighs exchanged in between sloppy kissing as he lazily thrust inside her.

satoru kept his face nuzzled against her neck, breathing her in while his arms wrapped around her. eventually, his lips moved back to her mouth in need of intimacy, the languid strokes of their tongues matching the steady pace of their lovemaking.

it didn't take him long to feel his member twitch and throb, emptying another load of his seed inside the woman, murmuring sweet nothing's as his length softened and slipped out of her.

satoru found it easy to fall asleep again with his mistress in his arms.

—

the fabric of your robes rustled silently around your feet—which seemed glued to the floor, as you watched her exit the main house of the gojo estate after another meeting between the Gojo's and her own clan.

her eyes met yours, and her hand immediately went to her flat stomach, as if protecting it, which made you scoff. and it only worsened when your husband held her hand as he helped her descend the wooden stairs.

all you could offer was a blank, emotionless stare, your sleeping son carefully held in your arms with his face hidden in the crook of your neck.

her eyes went to him, and your instincts screamed at you to shield him from her. what else did she want from you? was she after your son as well?

satoru swiftly rushed his mistress towards the exit so he could go back to you, having seen your distress. once he met you at the entrance of your own home, his frame interrupted your stare-down with the woman.

"let's go inside, honey." his tone was calm and gentle, coaxing you to let the issue go and head inside, but you didn't move. "please?"

"have you fulfilled your part of the deal?"

the coldness of your gaze had your husband pouting like a kicked animal. he ached to reassure you of his love, but he was quickly running out of ways to prove it.

"yes, I have."

wordlessly, you turned around with your son cradled close to you, his little fingers clinging onto your robes and satoru right behind you.

"my love, I hold no feelings. you know this already."

his reassurance was of little to no use. how he expected you to accept him impregnating another woman was beyond you.

"it's a political union," he vehemently said, knowing he had to convince you that she'd never become a wife of his. he'd give her a child—a backup heir—in exchange for her clan's resources and political ties. "I hold no feelings. you are my wife and the mother of the gojo clan's heir."

after putting down your son in his bed, making sure his soft hair was out of his forehead and the blanket kept him warm, you finally met satoru's gaze back.

"I don't want to know anything about her existence. don't ever bring her to my home again."

satoru nodded eagerly, willing to promise anything in order to end your sour mood. "I won't."

your son's room went silent besides the small breaths of his as he slept, unaware of the conflict worming inside his own home.

"but I will be out of our home more often." satoru knew he had to be careful with his words, blue eyes watching your reaction closely. there was no way to make it hurt any less, and he was finding it harder to conceal the excitement brimming from him. "she's pregnant."

satoru had to make sure the mother of his unborn baby had everything she wanted—him included.

[ivysprophecy]

slim pickins

warnings; bad date? mentions of sex, cursing underage drinking and yes i meant for it to be written poorly i was trying to keep the humor of the album in the writing

masterlist | p. 2

no pressure tags; @murdockcastleslut @kimoralov3 @arkofblake

word count; 1911

summary; youre tired of not finding a decent guy who will treat you right and lay you right. at least not one you've known since you were kids. however you just cant help yourself. besides its slim pickins out here you take what you can get.

divider by @bernardsbendystraws

i wanna make one thing clear, when i say there are no good guys left i do not wanna hear about you and your boyfriend of three years that can cook and loves your mom.

thats exactly what im talking about maddie!!! i dont give two fucks that he took you to barnes and noble and bought you every book you wanted.

they are all taken. its plain and simple.

which is why even with a full roster, im stuck taking fucking zander, yes with a z, to my friends' kegger.

i mean yea hes cute. hes tall, built but not that gross kind of muscly. but if were being real i shouldve known better when he was joking about being a male stripper when hes a ginger.

and i can tell kie is judging me, rightfully so. her side eye is lethal. when i introduced him to everyone she asked him about his greta van fleet tee and he said he didn't even know it was a band.

needless to say pope had to drag her away.

after that incident i decided it was best if we tried to talk away from the rest of the group. boy was i wrong.

"so what do you like to drink? ill go grab us something," i offer trying to start the conversation, also avoiding the usual problem with taking a drink from men.

"im good with whatever"

i like to think im not a violent person, but im about to be.

"does a beer sound okay?" i ask him grabbing a twisted tea for me from the cooler.

"sure thing." god why is he acting like such a bitch? i should ask him if he's on his period.

i hand him the can, our fingers brush and its my final clue for the night that i am definitely not going home with him. no spark at all. hes done just about everything else to piss me off.

he did the thing where he licks his lips exaggeratingly looking me up and down, making a point to make sure i saw.

he walks so slow for being 6'3.

and finally he tried to mansplain my career to me. i'd had just enough when he opens his mouth again

"ew, you like twisted tea? who likes sweet tea?" his face contorted in disgust, it was about to contort from my fist breaking his goddamn nose if he keeps talking to me like this.

"we literally live in the south dude." my face could not make it any clearer i am so done with this guy.

"still, sweet tea is disgusting. im not kissing anyone that drinks that nasty shit."

"who said i wanted to kiss your nasty fucking mou-" i was interrupted by the sound of a very familiar giggle behind me as his arm wrapped around my shoulder, the smell of his deodorant and sea salt that cover his skin start to put you at ease.

jj was always there when you needed him, sometimes even when you didnt but right now you couldn't be more grateful. "im glad you found those mama i got em just for you. remembered theyre your favorite. right?"

and you wanna know the best part? zander is shaking already pissed off that jj is at my side. territorial i guess.

"you mind?" he asks him nodding his head at me like im not even there.

jj cant help but laugh at him "yea bud i do mind. she's hanging out with me tonight. have fun with your ipa dick." and with that he steers us off to where the rest of the pogues are.

but not before i can look over my shoulder and give the ginger an innocent smile and a shrug as if i had no control over the situation, when really id pick jj over anyone else.

"you owe me a big fat kiss mama," jj whispers in my ear walking us over to where our friends are standing, drinks in their hands laughing and chatting up a storm.

"in your dreams honey."

"every night all night," he quips back before i shove him off me.

now before you give me shit, jj and i have had our fair share of fun, but unfortunately im starting to look for something more serious.

watching john b and sarah be disgusting together is getting to my head. popes got something going on with cleo and im starting to recognize the pattern. and before i know it everyone will be in love if i don't start making an effort in that department.

random casual hook ups aren't doing it anymore, especially considering they aren't even that good.

unless theyre with jj.

but hes not an option, theres too much drama. too much history. too much too much too much. im not what he needs and i know for a fact he doesn't want me in that sense.

is that a bit dramatic? probably.

i mean hes a great lay, he's hilarious, he's got that blue collar kind of muscle, and he genuinely cares about me.

so of course im not going to date him, why would i?

what do you mean make good decisions? id rather do things in the most difficult way possible!

"y/n youve gotta stop giving those guys a chance, im starting to feel bad for you."

"you try finding a decent guy in a ten mile radius." i glare at him, obviously not wanting to joke about this right now.

he sticks his hand out in front of me, "fine i will. let me see your phone."

curious to see what he will do i hand it too him unlocked, he swipes and taps for a few moments, smiling down at the phone before handing it back to you.

when you look back down at the screen all you see is your instagram open with his stupid fucking smiley face on the screen.

he took a picture of himself and posted to my story. written on the screen in bubble letters in my favorite colored heart 'my favorite guy <3'

"i think he's your best bet." that same smile facing back at me now, cockier than ever. so smug i wanna kiss it off his face

i cant help but roll my eyes. "jj im serious! at this rate im going to die alone. every decent guy is taken or unavailable. all i want is someone funny, kind, and attractive is that too much to ask for?"

"im right in front of you mama you dont gotta look far."

"jj we both know we're not the serious kind of relationship im talking about."

"you can think what you want too but ill be here waiting for that kiss you owe me."

"i think all that tequila youve been sipping has gone to your head maybank."

he stands in front of me, taking his signature red cap off his head and putting it on mine smiling down at me, "what do they say in those books you read? you wear the hat you ride the cowboy?"

"this no ten gallon hat and you are no cowboy."

we laugh at each other, its always been easier to do that then actually talk about our feelings. so i put his hat back on his head, backwards the way he i likes it.

"cmon y/n/n, have a few more drinks, relax and hang out and ill make you feel all better later yea? its what im best at, you know."

"its gonna take more than a few more teas to convince me jj"

"what about that thing you like that i do with my tongue, huh mama? doesnt that sound pretty good right now? i think it does."

"i give you one fucking compliment and it goes straight to your head."

"technically its about my head so that makes perfect sense," he hands me another can with that stupid signature smirk of his and his stupid sexy hat backwards. i hate to admit it's working on me.

just like it does every other time.

i squint my eyes at him taking the can, rolling the idea around in my head. "fuck it. its not like anyone else is offering," i take a big sip of my drink.

jj pumps his fist in the air like a victorious idiot giving a few woots and hollars before picking me up and throwing me over his shoulder despite my wishes.

"jb!!" he shouts turning around to face him, "we're headed out!"

john b looks at the two of us shaking his head at how im kicking my feet to wiggle out of jjs oddly strong grip. "make sure you change the sheets when youre done!"

oh my god he did not just say that. "fuck both of you!"

jj just laughs carrying you back to the chateau like a kid who's excited to use a brand new birthday present.

"what happened to letting me have a few more drinks before we left??"

"youre just too irresistable mama, gotta have you now,' he gives my ass a light slap for good measure causing me to roll my eyes for the 600th time tonight.

"are you gonna put me down now?"

he pretends to look like hes thinking about it, "i guess. only so i can watch you walk away," he does as he says helping me get my feet on the ground.

"youre a pervert."

"no im flirtatious, and you love it, you know it makes you blush i see it. now go on and give me a lil walk yea?"

oh im gonna kill him...

oh wait! im gonna kill him!

"okay... fine. but no touching until we get home," i smile walking away exactly like he asked, but i know behind me he is a puddle of mud. standing still, about to start begging me to let him.

he finally catches up after a few seconds "mama please- cmon thats not fair. you look too good in those shorts you know i cant wait that long. just wanna feel you."

i cant help but giggle at his words, its honestly adorable how mopey he gets. like i just kicked his puppy or something.

"hands of jj i mean it... not until that door shuts behind us."

it didn't really matter that i can see the chateau or that ill be there in literally a minute.

its actually painful for jj to not be able to touch me as he pleases.

i turn around to face him with a cheeky smile. "you want me maybank?"

and of course he nods so hard it looks like his head is going to fall right off.

"come and get me," running towards the house, i can see the moment when his reflexes kick in, his boots thudding against the ground as he gains on me.

just before i can make it to the poarch jj wraps his arms around me, lifting me a few inches off the ground and spinning me around in a fit of laughter.

"okay! okay okay okay you win- you got me."

"oh ive got you mama, and im havin you for the rest of the fucking night," he presses a kiss to my neck hauling me inside, the screen door slamming shut after us.

am i gonna regret this tomorrow? most likely.

but what can i say? its slim pickins in this part of town.

[evajzcks]

between light and shadow ── tom riddle

summary: you ran away after discovering you were pregnant during your final year at hogwarts. three years later, you and your son are in danger, and to protect your child, you must return to him, your past lover, tom riddle.

warnings: tom riddle x reader, the timeline is a mess, both tom and reader are 21 in this

word count: 1,8k

the grand dining hall of the manor was illuminated by a cascade of floating candles, their warm glow contrasting with the heavy, imposing decor. you entered with mattheo’s hand in yours, the little boy wide-eyed as he marveled at the room’s grandeur.

tom was already seated at the head of the table, his piercing gaze softening slightly as he saw them approach. he gestured to the seats beside him and mattheo immediately climbed onto the one closest to tom.

“is this where you always eat?” mattheo asked, his voice filled with innocent curiosity as he looked at the vast table.

tom’s brow furrowed, clearly unprepared for the child’s inquisitiveness. “most of the time,” he replied carefully, his deep voice tinged with an awkward stiffness.

“do you eat alone?” mattheo pressed, his head tilted.

tom hesitated. “yes.”

“that’s sad,” mattheo said matter-of-factly, his bluntness drawing a stifled laugh from you. you quickly masked it with a sip of water, though your eyes sparkled with amusement.

tom shot you a look that was equal parts exasperated and confused before turning back to mattheo. “it’s… practical.”

“what’s practical?” mattheo asked, his small face scrunched in concentration.

tom blinked, clearly unused to being questioned so persistently. “it means… useful. efficient.”

mattheo nodded solemnly, as if tom had just imparted a great wisdom. “do you like being alone?”

this time, tom hesitated longer, his gaze flicking to you as though searching for an answer. you raised an eyebrow, smirking at his discomfort.

“sometimes,” he finally said, his tone quieter.

mattheo tilted his head again. “do you have any friends?”

you nearly choked on your water, quickly covering your mouth to suppress the laugh threatening to escape. tom’s lips twitched, his patience wearing thin.

“i have… associates,” he answered stiffly.

“what’s an associate?”

you let out a soft giggle, unable to hold it in any longer. “mattheo, darling, why don’t we let mr. riddle eat his dinner in peace?”

“but I like asking questions,” mattheo said, looking genuinely puzzled by your suggestion.

“and mr. riddle isn’t very good at answering them,” you teased, your grin widening as you met tom’s glare.

tom’s jaw tightened, but there was a flicker of something else in his expression—an unfamiliar warmth, even as he fought to maintain his composure.

“perhaps i’m simply not accustomed to interrogations during meals,” he said, his tone dry but lacking his usual sharp edge.

“that’s because you’re not used to dining with company,” you quipped, reaching over to ruffle mattheo’s curls.

tom watched them, his gaze lingering on you as you laughed with their son. for a moment, the cold, calculating mask he always wore seemed to slip. he looked almost…human.

“mattheo,” he said, his voice softer now, “do you enjoy living here?”

the little boy shrugged. “it’s okay but mama says we won’t stay forever.”

you stiffened slightly, your eyes darting to tom, who had gone very still. his gaze was sharp as he turned to you, the unspoken question clear in his expression.

“we’ll discuss that later,” you said quickly, your tone firm as you focused on your plate.

mattheo looked between them, clearly sensing the tension but too young to understand its weight. “i like the library,” he said cheerfully, breaking the silence. “it has so many books! did you read all of them?”

tom’s lips curved into a faint smile, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes. “most of them.”

“wow,” mattheo said, his admiration genuine. “can you show me which ones are the best?”

“perhaps tomorrow,” tom replied, his voice softer now, though his gaze remained locked on you.

as the meal went on, mattheo’s questions continued, ranging from “do you like cats?” to, “if you’re so tall, can you touch the sky?”. you found yourself laughing more than you had in months, your heart lightened by your son’s innocence.

but every now and then, you would catch tom watching you, his dark eyes unreadable. you couldn’t tell if he was irritated by mattheo’s endless chatter or if he was quietly mourning the time he had lost with his son.

as they finished dessert, mattheo yawned, his head nodding sleepily against your arm.

“i think someone’s ready for bed,” you said, smiling as she scooped him up into her arms.

“goodnight, mr. riddle,” mattheo mumbled, his eyes half-closed as he rested his head on your shoulder

tom nodded, his gaze following them as you carried mattheo out of the dining hall.

when they were gone, tom leaned back in his chair, staring at the empty space where they had been. he was unaccustomed to the warmth that had settled in his chest during the meal, and he didn’t know whether to embrace it or push it away.

all he knew was that y/n and mattheo had a way of making him feel things he thought he had buried long ago—and it terrified him.

tom sat in silence for a long moment, his fingers drumming absentmindedly on the table. his thoughts swirled with confusion and something deeper, something he didn’t want to acknowledge. the little scene with you and mattheo had unsettled him more than he was willing to admit.

he had lived his life by control, by power—everything within his grasp, manipulated and ordered. but tonight, with mattheo’s innocent questions, the laughter in y/n’s voice, and the unspoken bond between them, it was as though everything he thought he knew had been turned upside down. the reality that he had a son—his son—was still too raw to fully comprehend.

he hadn’t expected this. he hadn’t expected them to feel so… normal. so human.

“this isn’t what i wanted for you,” he whispered to himself, though the words were not directed at anyone in particular.

what was it about you? why did you make him feel things no one else could? the thought lingered in his mind, clinging to him like a shadow. even as his cold, calculating side tried to push it away, something in him resisted, drawn to the warmth you provided despite everything.

minutes passed, and eventually, he stood up, smoothing down the fabric of his robes. his fingers brushed the edge of his wine glass, but he didn’t drink—he wasn’t thirsty. his mind was elsewhere.

fhe sound of mattheo’s soft laughter echoed faintly from the hall as you tucked him into bed, and for a brief moment, tom considered going to check on you—just to see, just to… but the thought vanished quickly, replaced by a sharp twinge of anger.

what would it even mean? to go to you now, to step into their world? was he really ready to acknowledge the life he had never asked for, yet was bound to in a way he could never escape?

he needed to focus, to remember his purpose. his empire, his power—those things mattered, didn’t they? everything else was secondary. everything else was just a distraction.

and yet, the more he tried to focus on his plans, on his goals, the more mattheo’s innocent voice echoed in his mind, asking questions about cats, the sky, and his tallness. it’s ridiculous. he wasn’t even sure how to answer a question like that, but the way mattheo had looked up at him with such trust—it had nearly broken him.

when you returned to the dining hall later, your footsteps barely a whisper on the stone floor, you found tom standing by the grand windows, looking out over the darkened grounds. the moonlight cast long shadows, the silence in the room almost suffocating.

you watched him for a moment before speaking. “you’re thinking too much, tom.”

he didn’t turn, but you could hear the soft exhale of air he released in response.

“i always think,” he replied, his voice low.

you took a few steps toward him, pausing just behind him. for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to watch the way the light hit his profile—the way the years had shaped him, the hard edge of his jawline that once seemed so cold, now softened in the moonlight. despite everything, despite his darkness, there was still something that called to you.

“i didn’t expect mattheo to… be so curious,” he said quietly, almost as if speaking to himself. “he doesn’t fear me like everyone else does.”

you took a breath, your hands folding in front of you “he’s just a child, tom. he sees the world through different eyes.”

“i suppose.” his voice was distant, but you could feel the tension building in him. “i didn’t expect him to want to talk to me.”

“he’s a little like you,” you remarked, your voice soft. “he doesn’t know any better.”

tom looked at you then, the intensity in his gaze sharper than you remembered. “and you? do you still think of me as someone who can be reasoned with?” he asked, his tone suddenly more biting.

your chest tightened, but you met his gaze steadily. “i think of you as a lot of things, tom,” you replied, your voice calm. “but the truth is… you’re not the person i thought you were. you’re not who you showed me you were back then.”

his eyes darkened, but you noticed the flicker of hesitation before he spoke again. “what does that mean?”

“it means that i’m not so sure about you anymore,” you said, your words carrying the weight of the past three years of uncertainty, fear, and betrayal. “you’ve changed… but so have i.”

tom’s gaze hardened, and he took a step closer to you, his presence consuming the space between you. “you still think i’m capable of the things i’ve done,” he said, his voice low, dangerous. “of course, you do.”

“i think you’re capable of more,” you answered, your voice steady. “but that doesn’t mean i trust you.”

tom’s jaw clenched, but there was something else there, something unreadable in his eyes.

“i never wanted you to trust me,” he said, his voice softer now. “i wanted you to understand me.”

you looked at him for a long moment, your heart heavy. “i don’t understand you, tom,” you admitted quietly. “i don’t think I ever will.”

there was silence then, a pregnant pause between them as the distance stretched thin, and yet, despite everything that had happened, there was something that lingered in the air—something neither of them could quite grasp. tom’s fingers twitched as if he wanted to reach for you, but he held back.

and in that moment, you realized that you might never truly understand tom—you might never be able to. but perhaps, just perhaps, that was the very thing that made him so dangerous.

this is my christmas present to y’all. got so excited writing this that I already wrote the part 2 but i might only publish it in 3 days, so comment if you want to be added to the tag list !!!!!

[beansprean]

introducing Katya Zamolodchikova as Nancy the Relentless!!! a concept @vampireshmampire and i braindumped about like a year ago lmao. far before the rumors about Trixie Mattel being in s6 came out owo!

My Familiar’s Ghost part 80

Masterpost Masterpost 2

See the latest pages on Patreon!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Small panel, waist up of Nandor and Guillermo on a vague grayish-blue background. Nandor has one hand on his hip and the other pointing upwards as he leans toward Guillermo sternly and says 'Now I will show you how to call long distance.' Guillermo looks up at him, rubbing his arm awkwardly, still flushed from the previous page, and responds 'Ok...' 1b. Chest up of Nandor on a brighter blue background with his eyes closed in concentration, palms held up and out. He clears his throat and says, in a wispy bright blue speech bubble, 'I, Nandor the Relentless, am calling out to the etherrrr to inquire about available familiarsssss...' 1c. Shoulders up of Nandor and Guillermo lurching to one side in shock, Nandor's hands flying up, shoulder crashing into Guillermo's, as a glowing blue bubble suddenly shoves into their panel. Inside the bubble is a thin white vampire in drag with long white-blonde hair styled half up in a high ponytail by a sparkly red scrunchie. She is wearing a thin red dress with a black leather corset, a red-violet leopard fur capelet with gold coins dangling from the hem, a red jabot at her neck with a bat shaped gold brooch decorated with rubies, and shoulder length red gloves with ruby-encrusted gold caps shaped like claws on each finger. She lurches into frame with a huge, devious grin, shouting, 'Nandor, babygirl! Is that you?!' 1d. Repeat of Nandor and Guillermo standing side by side, Guillermo now having moved to stand slightly behind. Nandor slumps and scowls, already looking exhausted by this encounter, and greets poisonously 'Hello, Nancy the Relentless.' Guillermo frowns up at Nancy but stays quiet. From offscreen, Nancy coos, 'Heyy, mama! Still shopping in Turkish Cryptkeeper Kohls? I love that for you.' Nandor replies, irritated, 'This kaftan is not coal, it is made of wool from the sheeps of Al Q-' Nancy interrupts and asks, 'So, you're looking for a familiar?'

2a. Waist up of Nancy in her ether bubble, right arm crossed over her chest to rest on her left bicep, left hand reaching up to tap a jaunty claw on her cheek. She raises a brow and grins, tongue curling around one fang, and asks teasingly, 'Does that mean your scrumptious little slayer-boy is finally availableeee? 2b. Chest up of Nandor and Guillermo side by side. Glare fixed on Nancy, Nandor throws an arm out in front of Guillermo and shouts, 'No!! I have told you before, he is mine!' Guillermo startles, a green glow beginning to creep up behind him as goosebumps skitter up and down his shoulders. Nancy replies to Nandor, 'And your title is mine, Nandor the Plagiarist!' Nandor snaps back, 'I have been called Relentless since before you were born, Nancy the- the Pretender!' 2c. Repeat. Guillermo blushes and looks away, lips pursing as if attempting to whistle nonchalantly as his hand reaches up to grip the arm Nandor is holding in front of him and move it away from his body. Nandor's eyes flit over to him curiously, color rising to his cheeks. Nancy continues, 'Ooh, baby, you know how I feel about older men yelling at me. You should call more often.' 2d. Close up of Nandor in profile in the foreground, Nancy's bubble beyond. He glares at her and asks sharply, 'Do you know of any familiars looking for work or not?' Nancy, full body visible now as she perches on the edge of a table and leans back on one arm, legs crossed at the knee to reveal the high slit in her dress, fishnets, and thigh high black leather boots. She closes her eyes haughtily and stretches her free arm outward in a clearly rehearsed pose, replying, 'Well, gorgeous, effortless, beloved vampires usually receive applications directly...' 2e. Repeat. Nandor arches his eyebrows and turns his head away from Nancy toward the viewer, muttering, 'Then you must alert me if you find such a vampire.' Nancy wheezes with shocked laughter, kicking her legs wildly and flapping her arms, delighted rather than offended by the dig. Through her laughs, she declares, 'Read!!' 2f. Chest up of Nandor and Guillermo, the latter standing just behind and gripping the edge of Nandor's sleeve. Offscreen, Nancy recovers from her fit and says, 'Well, since I'm nice, I'll forward you a few. But- hello! Is that the slayer behind you? Did you turn him?! You bitch!! Guillermo, call m-!' Nandor scowls and interrupts, saying quickly, 'YesthankyouNancygoodbye.' He then flaps his hand in the air, dispersing Nancy's bubble and ending the call. Behind him, Guillermo frowns, flustered and blushing. 2g. Repeat. Nandor lowers his hand and glares where Nancy once appeared, sneering, 'Yeesh, why could you not have slain her?' Guillermo aims an unimpressed glance toward him, still purple in the cheeks. /end ID

[kumkaniudaku]

Had Me At Hello

Summary: Terry and Patrice meet for the first time.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: None

Francis Edwards High School was a pristine, two-story jungle filled with Cumberland County's most gifted teenagers. From the first bell at 7 AM until the final ding at 2:30 PM, impenetrable cliques and established hierarchies ruled the hallways, classrooms, and bustling cafeteria, turning the already daunting task of making friends into a nearly impossible uphill battle.

A new school year was nothing more than a formality for returning students. Friend groups were locked in. Moving up and down the sacred social ladder was a tall task many dared not undertake. Seniors looking to make a name for themselves before walking across the stage concocted grand plans to achieve legendary status. Incoming freshmen were given the golden opportunity to shed their image from middle school and step into brand new skin if they were lucky. 

By mid-October of his freshman year, Terrence Richmond felt like he'd cracked high school's code. A massive growth spurt throughout eighth grade shot him up from a slight 5'7" to a respectable 5'11", aiding his first-string wide receiver campaign. Sure, he was brand new to the team and coming behind an all-state senior plus two juniors making waves in their own right, but stranger things had happened. One twisted ankle or subpar progress report, and he'd be well on the way to becoming the big man on campus.

While student-athletes gathered to work through math problems and critical thinking questions in factions during study hall, Terrence used his binder to deflect jagged paper balls aimed at his forehead from his teammate and lifting buddy, Robert.

"Bro, chill," Terrence laughed before chucking the piece of trash back in Robert's direction. "I'm trying to do my homework. You should be, too, by the way!"

Robert turned his nose up and scoffed. "Why? Get somebody to do it for you." He gestured toward a library full of students, then looked back at Terrence. "Pick somebody. Shit, ask one of your teachers. You on the football team. Your job is to play football." 

"Yeah, okay," Terrence scoffed. "Try tellin' my mama that. If she found out I had people doin' my work, she'd kick my ass. Then tell my daddy, and they would kick my ass together." 

"At least you got a dad. I'm still waiting on mine to get back from the store. It must take a long time to get cigarettes." 

Their goofy, loud laughter eclipsed a spirited conversation between the senior defensive core, earning attention neither of them cared to have. 

While being on the team shielded Terrence from the dog-eat-dog world of high school civilian life, it wasn't enough to escape the internal politics governing a rowdy bunch of teenage boys. 

The pecking order was clear and meant to go unchallenged. Seniors commanded starting roles, leaving everyone else to fight for crumbs until their time came to rise up the ranks. Most underclassmen accepted the natural order of things. Eventually, an opportunity would arise, and they'd run with it. But Terrence didn't have time to wait. Four years wasn't long enough to play safe. He had his sights set on NFL glory. And, while his coaches found his ambition honorable, young men three years his senior considered Terrence a threat to stability. 

Scowling, the starting defensive back directed his ire toward Terrence and Robert. "Fuck is so funny?" 

“Nothin’!” Robert's quick response made Terrence roll his eyes. Robert's deer-caught-in-headlights gaze darted back to his friend, softening his brown eyes into apologetic saucers. He mumbled a timid, "Sorry." as an apology.

For Terrence, backing down wasn't an option. Even if it was, he couldn't imagine a universe in which his father's stern lesson about standing up for yourself wouldn't haunt him for all eternity. 

He shrugged as cooly as he could as he leaned back in his chair. "Homework, Drew. You wanna talk about your's too, since you still in ninth- grade algebra with us? Let us help you, bro. We a team." 

Raucous laughter at his expense made Drew shrink back in embarrassment. His intelligence, or lack thereof, wasn't a secret, but it also wasn't a line anyone dared cross. Unfortunately for him, Terrence had no reverence for tired rules.  

Anger turned Drew's ears and nose red as he considered turning a light spat into a physical altercation. Terrence sat up straight to answer his adversary's unspoken challenge, narrowing his lids into slits and tightening his jaw repeatedly. His fists sat balled in his lap, clenching and unclenching in preparation. If things took a turn for the worst, his readiness was paramount. What he lacked in size, he could make up in speed. Either that or he'd have to deal with his father when all was said and done. He chose to take his chances. 

Sensing a fight on the other side of harmless jokes, one of the senior linemen with a soft spot for Terrence's fearlessness stepped in. 

"Alright, D, he busted yo ass. Let it go, man." Demarcus laughed before gripping his friend's shoulder to push him back into his seat. "Aye, Terry, you gotta chill. You a freshman. Be cool sometimes." 

"It's Terrence. Not Terry." 

Demarcus waved off Terrence's correction. "It's Terry, nigga. We already got a Terrence," he mentioned, pointing to a junior safety at the far end of the table. "Now, if y'all wanna fight about it, we can set something up after practice." Terrence eyed his older namesake, sizing him up before making a business decision. His father also taught him to pick his battles wisely. Demarcus took Terry's silence as an answer and continued. "Exactly. Now, move yo skinny ass out the way so we can see ol' girl behind you."

Catcalls and lewd whistling rippled around three tables pushed together to make one as young men coursing with raging hormones leaned over to get a glimpse of the new girl. 

Long-legged and umber-skinned, she stood out in a room full of semi-familiar faces. Everyone at Francis attended school together at some point. Schoolyard bonds followed most students from pre-k to graduation, turning each schoolyear into a reunion of sorts. She, however, was different, fresh, and mysterious. 

Dark brown pressed hair pulled into a low ponytail showed off high cheekbones and piercing eyes. Plump lips drooping into a slight frown told anyone wondering she wasn't interested in too many long conversations. A thin frame sporting naturally lean muscle might trick a less perceptive person into believing she was an athlete. The handwritten 'Francis Edwards Book Club' sign hanging crooked behind her head told a different story. She was a serious scholar with little time for public school games. 

"Damn! She gotta be from outta town." One player commented after blowing the girl a kiss and receiving an annoyed eye roll in return.

Another boy added his two cents to the mix. "I heard she transferred from some private school. Catholic girl or something like that." 

"You know how the Catholic school girls get down. Straight nasty."

Crass comments, growing increasingly inappropriate, turned into nothing more than background chatter while Terry stared at the only person worth existing as far as he was concerned. 

Patrice Ellis. He'd seen the back of her head in one of his classes, not knowing the beauty hidden on the other side. She always smelled like the cocoa butter his mom used to keep his baby sisters moisturized. In class, she was quiet and observant. He liked hearing her answer questions and sometimes jotted her responses as notes in case they were hit with a pop quiz or he needed a reminder during his study time. 

Seeing Patrice quietly adjust stacks of paper while waiting for anyone to interact with her table nearly stole all of the air from Terry's lungs. He couldn't look away. He didn't want to look away. She had his undivided attention.

Until a grating voice spouting crude nonsense forced him to rejoin the conversation. 

"Bet $15 I can't take her down before Christmas break." 

Demarcus extended his arm toward Drew for a handshake agreement, a disbelieving look settling on his face. "I'll bet you $20 you won't go over there and talk to her right now." 

"Who won't? Man, stop playing with me!" 

"Do it then!" 

Terry's eyes darted between the two seniors, syncing to his rising heartbeat. Everything in him wanted to stay out of their antics. He begged his legs to stop bouncing, trying to negotiate with his brain to let go of the stupid idea it'd concocted. Mind your business. Make a good impression. Don't step on any toes. Sit down, Terry.

A hush fell over the group while they watched everyone's favorite mouthy frosh jam books and papers into his backpack before taking long strides toward the neatly decorated folding table by the library's entrance. 

Patrice noticed his lanky body standing out in the crowd like a car wash inflatable with adorable curls forming a dense afro. His eyes, beautiful round orbs of sea green and honey, bore into hers like he owed her a tongue-lashing for something she couldn't remember. They sat near each other in third-period algebra. Maybe her constant pencil tapping was more of a distraction than she thought. 

Then he smiled. Full lips beneath a wispy mustache smoothly slid into a bright, teeth-baring grin to show off all his pearly whites. His nose scrunched, and his eyes crinkled on the side, betraying the intensity he'd displayed only seconds prior. 

Breathtaking. Patrice rushed to busy her mind and hands, hoping his attention-stealing grin was meant for someone she couldn't see and that he'd stroll right past her into the hallway. 

A shadow the size of a beanstalk appeared over her navy blue tablecloth and spoke to her in a soft, small voice. "Are y'all still accepting sign-ups?" 

Most of what he said was lost in the chaos of students transitioning out of the room for their respective sports obligations, forcing Patrice to finally look up. Terry stood before her, still smiling, his eyes expectant and curious as he looked down at her. 

"I'm sorry, you have to speak up. I didn't…I didn't hear what you said."

"Oh. I-" Terry stopped short to clear his throat. "I just asked if y'all were still accepting sign-ups. Because I'd like to, um, join…if I can. Are you in the club?"

"Wouldn't be sitting here if I wasn't." 

Terry nervously adjusted his heavy bookbag on his arm. "Right. My bad." He pointed at the sign-up sheet. "Can I?"

Patrice cocked her head to one side. "You sure? I figure you'd wanna join math club since you're so good at it. Or literally anything else. Didn't think you were the reading type." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Terry watched Patrice pluck a pen from her advisor's mug and slide it across the table to him. When she didn't answer, he pressed again. "Why'd you say that?" 

"Say what?" 

He bent over to scribble his last name into the appropriate box. "That you didn't think I'd be the reading type. Why?" 

"Because you hang around a bunch of idiots," Patrice sassed as she nodded behind him to a table of boys jeering in the background. 

Terry tried to contain his smile at how adult she was despite not looking much older than his fourteen years, instead fighting to keep his brow furrowed in feigned confusion. "What does that have to do with me, though? You think I'm an idiot?" 

"Birds of a feather flock together. I've heard some things." 

Stories of hazel eyes and broad shoulders kept young girls from 9th to 12th-grade giggling amongst themselves whenever news got around that Terry was in the vicinity. He took the ogling in stride with the guys, sending diplomatic waves to googly-eyed young women like the second coming of President Obama. But, privately, the new attention overwhelmed him. He wasn't sure how to exist in his body or navigate the sudden drop in his voice. 

Patrice only knew unconfirmed rumor mill pieces of information. Terry was dating multiple girls in the ninth grade. Terry had a girlfriend at a school across town. Terry was an asshole. Terry this, Terry that. She couldn't keep up and preferred to steer clear of this Terry character. Still, there he was, standing in front of her and expecting an explanation for an offhanded comment she desperately wanted to move past. 

"You shouldn't judge a book by its cover. Nobody ever told you that?" Terry's eyes flickered up to Patrice's to find her making a face as she rolled her eyes. 

She kissed her teeth. "Yeah, they did, and it's stupid. How else will I decide to pick a book if I don't judge its cover first?"

"Okay, well, what if I judged you?" He paused to make space for Patrice's rebuttal, but one never came. He continued. "In class, you don't talk and scrunch your face up at everybody. You bring your lunch to school instead of goin' through the line like the rest of us and rush down the hallway like you're late for something every day. What if I said you thought you were better than us because you came from private school?" 

"You'd be wrong. I just… haven't been able to fit in yet," Patrice countered. "And who told you I came from a private school?"

Terry chuckled. "I'm judging you by your cover. And the St. Pius pin you keep on your backpack." He pointed toward the white and gold crest pinned to the left strap of her orange Jansport, then gave her a sympathetic smile. "You miss your friends. I get it. I would, too. But, if you wanna make some new ones that aren't teachers, you can't be so mean all the time." 

"You don't know me," she countered in defiance. 

"I want to." 

Terry didn't know what made him make such a bold declaration. He wasn't usually so forward or willing to converse with strangers. This stranger, in all her beauty and endearing sass, was different. She'd drawn him in with little more than a slight scowl, which he knew was only a defense mechanism to ward off unserious would-be suitors. He wasn't them, though. He never said anything he didn't mean. 

Capping the pen, Terry smiled, handed Patrice her utensil, and slid the paper back to her. "I'm Terrence, by the way. Or Terry. Either works." 

"Which one do you prefer?" 

"Um, Terrence…I think." 

She smiled, finally showing her teeth, before giggling. "You think? Which name do you like more?" 

"Terrence," he answered as he returned her smile. "Call me Terrence." 

"Okay, Terrence." Terrence. Patrice wanted to repeat his name again and again to feel the easy cadence roll of her tongue. Instead, she extended her hand for him to grab and shake. Terry gently took hold of her fingers, forgetting to finish the process until Patrice initiated it for him. "Welcome to the club. I'm –" 

He cut her off, still holding on long after they'd completed the simple formality. "Patrice. I know. Nice to meet you." Slowly, he released her hand, immediately creating a void she wished he'd fill again. A short laugh escaped past Terry's lips before he adjusted his backpack again and prepared to walk away. "Guess I'll see you during free block next Wednesday? Maybe you can get to know me for yourself instead of making all those assumptions." 

"Yeah. Maybe." 

A final once-over helped Terry and Patrice commit each other's faces to memory before Terry backed his way out of the library and temporarily out of her life. 

As easily as her new connection's effortless cool calmed heightened anxiety, his associated band of buffoons infiltrated her serene bubble with their unique brand of foolish behavior. They filed out of the library one by one, some making faces and a few more spouting garbage in passing. Idiots, just as she thought.

When they were out of dodge, and the library was back to the quiet, safe haven she loved, Patrice looked back down at the sheet of paper with one name neatly written in slender, slanted print. Her index finger traced each letter as she tried to relive the smile and soft voice attached to the name she'd never forget. 

Terrence Richmond. A beautiful cover to a book she hoped to read from front to back one day.

--------

Reply if you'd like to be tagged in future work!

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @hrlzy @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl @ariiijestertheklown @blyffe @tvchi @wabi-sabi1090 @blackmoonchilee @flydotty @aldrigmer444 @ash-ketchumzzz @nayaesworld @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @writingsbytee @teddybeerz @trippyscotch @theogbadbitch @ghostfacekill-monger @nyifly22

[solacefish]

sebastian has dull scales.

it's something he's known ever since the transformation started, ever since he'd felt the sting along his arms and on those babyface cheeks he'd wished to get rid of for so long. no amount of facial hair had ever saved him, and while hed prefer anything other then a reskin like this, it was one he couldn't prevent regardless.

he'd always struggled to sleep. had it been the ache of new replacing the old along the tail that took up so much room, had it been the dark he'd been afraid of ever since he was just a little boy. curling up in his mama's bed as she explained he'd buy him a nightlight to stop him being so afraid.

maybe it could work for himself. he misses the sun, he misses the light catchers mama put in his window. he was her sun, her light. su sol.

he keeps a flashlight, and its absentmindedly at first. whilst fixing pipes or mechanics inside an already run down office. when he places it against the cold ground to free his hands, and his eyes catch against the rainbows that scatter the room. the colours he reflected. that's how it began, at least.

now he can't sleep without it, those days tossing and turning in his nest at the back of his shop, dulled so quickly as soon as he can see those lights again. maybe its the idea something so ugly as himself can make such pretty colours, maybe it's the hope of seeing the surface after the rain clears. whatever makes those nights of exhaustion a little kinder.

[sarawritestories]

I Died With Her

Eris Vanserra X Fem Reader

Summary: Beron discovers your mating bond...A cruel prophecy fulfilled.

Content Warning: Death of Main Character, Murder, Unnatural cruelty, Beron's demise.

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: Its short and angsty...and I may be persuaded to make a part two. I also apologize if this one is not my best. I'm in a slump but this

Eris’s blood ran cold as he entered the throne room. His brothers grinning in cruel delight. His father standing in front of a throne that he did not deserve. Beron’s hand threaded through the now tangled mess of your hair. Forcing you to look your mate in the eye while your knees dug into the concrete. Tears streamed down your face as you met Eris’s russet eyes. Memorizing every sharp angle of his beautiful face, every freckle that kissed his pale skin, try to remember the feeling of his soft, thick locks through your fingertips. Memorizing the sweet scent of the fall breeze, embers with a hint of cinnamon that brought you so much comfort. Your beautiful mate, best friend, love of your life.

If only you had had more time.

Eris was staring at you as well, memorizing your sweet doe eyes, the plump curve of your lips, your smile, the warmth of your skin against his. The things he may never get a chance to encounter again, your laugh, your soft snores as you laid on his lap, the way you would scrunch your nose when reading your book, or how your body eased and relaxed simply being near him. How you were his equal in every way and how his body sang in harmony with yours. Clearing his throat he placed his cool mask on, “What is the meaning of this?”

Beron’s smirk was cruel as he yanked your hair back causing you to yelp. “I found something that belonged to you. I must say the bitch was hard to find.” Eris snarled as Beron released his grip and kicked your back, your hands and knees preventing your face from colliding with the ornate flooring. “She is yours isn’t she, Boy?”

“I would never sully myself with a common whore.” Lies, lies. The words felt like ash against his tongue. You lifted your head only slightly, and the solitary wobble of your lower lip broke his façade. Eris met his father’s gaze with fury in his russet eyes and fire roaring through his veins.

“There he is. Eris the lover.” Beron taunted pressing his foot against your back forcing you down on the cold marble and you cried out. “I didn’t raise you to be a romantic.” Beron snarled.

“You didn’t raise me at all.” Eris retorted his lip curling upward.

Beron quirked, “I should have known. Well, it’s a good thing I handled that problem already.” The High Lord of Autumn clapped his hands forcing his weight down on you causing you to whimper in pain. You reached out for Eris, only for one of the guards to intentionally step on your delicate fingers and you bit back your scream. As the guard approached with the head of Eris’ mother detached from her body.

Eris felt the bile rise from his throat at the sight and he clutched at his chest.

“Eris, I want you to listen to me.” The Lady of Autumn held her son close to her bosom. Eris, barely six, snuggled close to the warm scent of his mother. “One day, you are going to find your mate.” She smiled and tucked a loose strand of his copper red hair behind his ear and the young fae leaned into his mother’s touch. “When you do. You need to promise me to take care of them. Love them with all your heart.” She gripped his chin, “You keep them away from your father. Run far away from here.”

Eris scrunched his face, “I don’t want a mate. I want to be with you forever.” He smiled up at his mother, He tilted his head as he watched his mother’s eyes line with silver. “Mama, why are you crying?”

She pressed her soft lips against his forehead, “I just love you so much, My little flame.” Leaning her head against the top of his, “You can be with me for as long as you want.”

“Get off me!” You shrieked bring Eris to the presence, flames licking his skins as two of his brothers grabbed a hold of you to keep you in place as Beron fetched for a blade and Eris’ flames banked out. Your eyes found his once more and she mouthed “I love you.”

He mouthed those three letters back and then bolted toward his father, but not before two of his younger brothers grabbed him and forced him on his knees. Tears began to form, blurring his vision, he desperately tried to blink away to memorize every crevice of your face. “Eris,” Your voice cracked, and Eris could feel your fear and love shot down the bond to him and he felt his heart breaking. “I will see you in the next life. Being your mate has been the greatest gift the cauldron could ever have granted me.” Eris let loose a broken sob. “Promise me. You will move on. You will find reasons to smile. Love freely. Remember that I loved you.”

Eris could barely see, his breathing shallowed as the pain flooded his entire body. “I love you, Little Flame. I’m so sorry.”

You smiled, “I’m not. Being loved by you was the closest thing I would get to The Mother. If I could do it over and never change a thing.” Tears streaked your perfect face and yet being the brave female, he knew you where you straightened your posture. And the last words Eris heard, your sweet voice echoing through the throne room. “Long Live the High Lord of The Autumn Court.” Her eyes drifted to Eris as the eldest Vanserra son watched his father approach. “Eris Vanserra.”

The sword sliced through the air and Eris’s scream thundered through the entire continent. Eris’s body moved on its own, consumed by rage and grief and the numbness that came with the bond deteriorating. In the manner of thirty seconds, Eris Vanserra had lost everything…

And then he saw red.

Refusing to look at the floor, not wanting to see your head detached from your body. He refused to think about the plans he had made with you, a wedding, a family, a life of freedom, a chance to run away. Gone. At the hands of the man who was laughing with his brothers about your demise.

No one disrespects his mate.

Eris had no memory of the events that occurred when he rose to his feet, but when he was done, the entire throne room was in flames, the screams of his brothers and his father drowned by the familiar crackling sound of his flames. Letting the throne room burn, he exited out into the forest, your headless body in his arms. Eris felt nothing, the gold thread that once shined bright, fell limp and became ash. As Eris buried your body in your favorite clearing, he knew one thing was certain.

Any kindness he held in his heart died with you.

Story Taglist:

General Tag: @milswrites @lady-of-tearshed @tsunami-of-tears @readychilledwine @ceoofyearning

@velariscalling @daycourtofficial @prythianpages @writingcroissant @itsswritten

@illyrianbitch @acotarxreader @pit-and-the-pen @nocasdatsgay @labyrinth-of-stories-and-stars

@ninthcircleofprythian @thelov3lybookworm @riddlesb1tch @lilah-asteria

@kylaisra @nickishadow139 @aelincaddel @nighttimemoonlover @demirunner

@marvelbros-oneshots @mybestfriendmademe @le

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Precious Truths: Part 6

Fandom: Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: After your father finds out you’ve been writing under a male pseudonym, he threatens to marry you off to an atrocious man unless you find yourself a husband within a month’s time.

A/N: I will not be taking tags for this series!

Series Masterlist

Benedict follows you and Lord Montclair with a frown on his face. He seems to love to torture himself when he agreed to accompany Daphne as she chaperones your promenade with the marquess.

His eyes glance down to your arm hooked around the other man's and his brows furrow. Daphne looks up at her brother with a smirk, "Something the matter, brother?"

Benedict suddenly looks away clearing his throat, "No, no. Just, um, thinking about a piece I need to work on."

Daphne hums unconvinced, looking back at you and Lord Montclair, "They do make a handsome couple, do they not?"

"I suppose," Benedict replies as he casts his eyes down, paying more attention to the path rather than you and the marquess.

"Are you upset with me?" Daphne asks, pulling her arm away from her brother's and stopping to look at him.

Benedict looks at her with confusion, "Should I be?"

She purses her lips, "Well, I was the one who introduced the marquess to Y/N and considering your feelings-"

"Please, Daphne, I already endure this from Anthony and Kate. I do not wish to hear more of it from you," he takes a quick glance your way as the distance grows wider between you and he, "I may love her, but I cannot give her what she desires. He can," he nods to Lord Montclair.

Daphne sighs, hooking her arm around her brother's once more, "Regardless, I cannot imagine this being easy for you."

The second eldest Bridgerton sighs, "'Tis not. Hopefully, with time, it will be."

_____________________________

You hide your laughter behind your fan as you walk the path with Lord Montclair. He relays a memory he had of when he was a boy. How he tried to capture a frog and in his attempts, it jumped on his face, causing him to fall into a lake.

"That reminds me of when I was a child. I was probably two and ten years old. Be-I mean Mister Bridgerton and myself decided to sneak away onto a row boat. We had seen a fish into the lake and leaned over the edge too much. We both fell in. Our mamas were so upset with us, but we had a good laugh," you state with a giggle.

Lord Montclair chuckles, "So you have known the Bridgertons for a while?"

You nod, "Almost my entire life. They are like my second family."

"And you are the closest with the second eldest, Benedict?" the marquess asks with intrigue as he guides you to a bench for some rest.

You nod, following him to sit, "Yes. He is my dearest of friends."

Lord Montclair clears his throat, leaning closer to you, "I do not want to seem too forward, Miss L/N, but I think I have made my interest quite clear. Is it safe for me to assume that there are no romantic feelings between you and Mr. Bridgerton considering," he gestures between you and him.

You cast your eyes towards Benedict, who is now entertaining two women in conversation while Daphne speaks with their mama. You feel a twinge of jealousy as the women laugh with Benedict. No. You shouldn't feel this way. He is not yours. He never will be.

You turn back to Lord Montclair and give him a small smile, "I can assure you, my Lord, there is nothing between Mister Bridgerton and myself except for friendship."

Happy with your response, Lord Montclair changes the subject and shares another story of his youth. You nod, smile, and laugh at the appropriate times, occasionally glancing back at Benedict. Every once in a while, your eyes will meet and then look away. Your heart strings tug a little more with each wavering gaze.

It seems you like to torture yourself since you cannot help but keep your eyes away from Benedict entertaining women that wasn't you.

_______________

After your promenade and lunch with Lord Montclair and the Bridgertons, you arrive home to see your father waiting for you.

His eyes were glossy and his body slightly swaying, signifying that he was already drunk once more.

"I heard a marquess is courting you," he practically mumbles out.

"Yes, papa. I am certain he will propose before the end of the month," you respond plainly, no emotion and no love for the man who you are now unfortunate to call your father.

He hums, "And does he know of your...hobbies?"

"He only knows I enjoy reading poetry, not writing it."

"Good. A man does not want a woman who is too well-read."

You bite your tongue, not wanting to suffer from a potential strike to your face like previously, "Of course, papa." You dryly reply and head to your room.

You proceed to isolate yourself for the rest of the day. Although Lord Montclair is exactly the man many women would kill to have court them, you still cannot find yourself to fall for him completely. You don't think you ever could. You've lived a majority of your life loving Benedict Bridgerton, you aren't sure how else to live. Even if Benedict could never love you back, you will still continue to hold him dear in the depths of your heart for you and only you to know.

You didn't lie to your father that you are sure Lord Montclair will propose soon. He had spoke of marriage, children, just your potential future in general. Both of your desires and goals line up perfectly with one another and you are certain he sees it to.

Now only to mentally prepare yourself for the inevitable.

________________

Benedict's heart drops to his stomach when he hears the news from Daphne: Lord Montclair plans to propose to you soon.

Obviously, he knew it was bound to happen. Of course he would propose to you. You, perfect, beautiful, intelligent, cunning, funny, wonderful you.

It was inevitable and it was becoming even more real that Benedict would lose you forever.

It was then that Benedict decided to drown himself in his art. Go to parties, brothels, bars, whatever he can as much as possible to forget the pain in his heart.

If only he wasn't so stubborn and truly listen to his heart and his family. He could be with you and give you everything you want and deserve.

But alas, he was just too blind and hard headed to see it.

Lady Whistledown, however, made it well known to the Ton of how she as well as a majority of Mayfair, expected him and you to marry.

__________________

Two weeks. It took two weeks of courting until Lord Montclair asked your father's permission to marry you. It was an easy "yes" from him, obviously. With the status of being the marquess and willing to pay well over your dowery, well, how can your father refuse?

Even though you were expecting it, you still felt hesitant. Your aunt joined you in the sitting room, watching as Lord Montclair, James, as you learned his name was, knelt down and presented his mother's beautiful ring.

"Mon cher, you have made me so incredibly happy these past few weeks. I think we can have an amazing future together. Will you do the honor of marrying me?"

You know you should say yes. But your mind immediately goes to Benedict. Your best friend, your first love, the man you saw yourself marrying and growing old with. But he didn't feel the same. If he did, he would've courted and proposed to you by now.

It was officially time to let go of your silly fantasies and face reality.

"Yes, of course," you reply breathlessly and James slips the ring onto your finger.

Aunt Eliza lets out a breath of relief, "I am so incredibly happy for you two! I plan to hold a ball in your honor at the end of the week, so be prepared for the fan fair that will be headed your way."

James takes your hand and kisses it, "I shall go. I must begin contacting my family so they can be here for the wedding."

"Of course, my Lord."

James smiles at you sweetly, "You may call me James now, mon cher."

You return a sweet smile back, "Of course, James. Then you may call me Y/N."

"I will see you later, future Marchioness Montclair," he gives you a wink and heads out.

You look down at the ring, the diamond sparkling in the sun. Your aunt rushes to your side and kisses your temple, "You did it, dear. You did it. You will be free soon enough."

You gulp and nod at your aunt, "Yes. I will be free."

____________________

Dearest Gentle Reader,

It seems that wedding bells are to be heard soon with now the engagement of Miss Y/N L/N and the Most Honorable Marquess, Lord James Montclair. The marquess had turned many heads since his arrival with Duchess Bridgerton. Many ladies of the Ton had hoped for a courtship from him. However, it was quite the surprise that our very own Miss L/N, one who has previously rejected the idea of marriage, set her sights on the marquess and lured him with her charm.

As I am sure many of you are disappointed by the engagement, I am certain no one is as disappointed as the second eldest Bridgerton son, Benedict Bridgerton. For we all knew those two were always at each other's side. This author thinks that perhaps the second eldest never proposed to Miss L/N because he knew he could never provide for her as a second son.

Nevertheless, I do look forward to see how Miss L/N will take to the role of marchioness. Will she crack under pressure or will it be smooth sailing? This author waits in anticipation.

Benedict crumples up Lady Whistledown's newest edition, tossing it across the room. His family's eyes are all on him.

His heart rate quickens, he feels a sweat coming on. The walls are closing in and he can't breathe. He doesn't like how his family looks at him with pity. They all know now. They know how he feels for you. There is a chance know how he feels for you now. A part of him hopes that you don't believe what Whistledown has to say. Not everything she says is always factual. Nevertheless, it makes the Ton talk.

"Excuse me," he abruptly stands from his place and Anthony stands with him, "Brother-"

"Please, don't. I need a moment alone," Benedict quickly says as he rushes out of the room.

[aothotties]

Telling Toji you want a baby

Hello beautiful people! I wanted to post this yesterday, but I was busy celebrating mothers day myself! Happy belated mothers day to all the sexy moms out there!

Warnings: mentions or pregnancy, fluff, sought angst, mentions of mama fushiguro, creampie, overstimulation,

Word count: 1690

~~~

You and Toji are on your way back from visiting your sister and her family. She just recently had her third baby and you decided to stay and help her around the house.

During your visit, you couldn’t help but develop a bit of baby fever being around her children. Those cute chubby cheeks and the random babbling was enough to convince you to make one yourself.

You and Toji have talked about starting a family of your own in the past but decided you wanted to wait until his son, Megumi, was older.

You’re pulled out of your deep thoughts when you hear car doors closing outside, indicating that your husband and son are home. You greet them at the door and Megumi runs into your arms.

“How was school munchkin?” You ask, picking the small boy up and resting him on your hip.

“It was good, I missed you today.” He rests his head on your shoulder and you rub his back soothingly.

Your baby fever is getting stronger by the damn second and your husband standing in the kitchen watching you two isn’t helping one bit.

“I miss you too gumi, you want a snack?” He shakes his head and closes his eyes instead.

“He had a long day of playing so I’m sure he’s tired.” Your husband says, walking around the island in the kitchen to plant a kiss on your forehead.

“I can tell, I’ll go and lay him down.” You hold Megumi close as you make your way to his room.

You smile at the sound of his light snore and loosened grip on your shirt. You lay him down slowly and plant a kiss on his forehead.

“Love you, mom.” He mumbles sleepily and your eyes widen.

Megumi has never called you mom before, he’s only ever called you by your first name. You and Toji agreed that you would let Megumi decide what you were to him, and it’s clear he has.

You press a kiss to his forehead and close your eyes as you feel tears build up.

“I love you too.” You whisper back and step out of his room.

You quickly wipe your tears and clear your throat as you walk into your and your husband's shared bedroom.

To your surprise Toji is already in there, his headset is thrown over his ears and he’s lounging back in his chair.

“Hey cutie pie, why the long face? Did another animal die in a book or something?” He teases, and you roll your eyes.

You force yourself into his lap and wrap your arms around his neck. He looks at you in pure confusion and sets his controller and headset aside.

“Megumi called me mom.” You mumble against his shoulder silently.

Toji freezes in his chair and isn’t exactly quite sure how to react. You both have talked about his wife in the past, but you try not to since you know it’s a bit of a tough subject.

“I’m sorry this is out of nowhere, I just felt like you should know.” He wraps his arms around you tightly and you relax in his embrace.

“Don’t apologize, he’s right you are his mom. You’ve been here since he was one. You’re all he knows.” He rubs your back and rests his forehead against yours.

“I wanted to talk to you about that. So you know how my sister and her husband just had a baby?” You ask, you nervously play with the collar of his shirt.

“Yeah I’m aware, your mother wouldn’t stop asking when we were gonna have our own, why?” He raises an eyebrow and you simply smile at him.

“Oh my god are you pregnant!?” He sits up quickly and you almost fall from his lap.

“Jesus Christ Toji, no I’m not, but I’m hoping I soon will be.” You quickly throw in the last part and await his response.

“You’re serious right now? You want a baby?” He asks looking into your eyes for any signs of doubt.

You nod confidently and straddle his legs while he sits back. You rub your hands up and down his arms and chest slowly.

“Don’t you wanna make a baby with me, Toji?” You seductively ask, lips kissing up his neck gently.

He smirks at your antics and grabs a handful of your ass in his large hands.

“If you’re serious about this then so am I, I’m never gonna say no to coming inside your sweet pussy”

That’s the last thing you remember before you end up bent over the mattress with your face stuffed in the sheets.

You don’t wanna wake up poor Megumi down the hall, but it’s getting harder not to scream with the pounding your poor cunt is receiving.

“Be quiet mama, I see I’ve got to teach you some things. Can’t be waking up the new baby with your screamin’.” He teases, and his rough hand rubs up your back.

He grabs the back of your neck and pulls you so your back is flush against his chest. The new angle has your eyes rolling back and your head resting weakly on his shoulder.

“T-Toji, f-feels good!” You whine as his thick bulbous tip abuses your sweet spot.

“Of course it does baby, you can’t stop coming and crying on my cock.” He smirks and holds onto your hips with both hands as he picks up his thrusting.

Your walls tighten around his thick shaft and your orgasm courses through your entire body. Toji wraps an arm around your waist as you convulse on top of him, he uses his other hand to rub quick circles on your swollen nub.

“Fuck! Fuck! Daddy, t-too much” You gasp as another orgasm builds up quickly, your lower belly warming up slightly.

“You can take it, Daddy’s so close princess. I want you to take all of me, can you do that baby?” He grunts out in pleasure, and the feeling of your sopping pussy begins to catch up to him.

His hips start to lose their rhythm but never their force, you nod your head in response to his question.

The hand gripping your waist slaps over your mouth and you scream into it as another climax approaches.

This one wetting the man and bed below you, tears begin to stream down your face and your body goes limp.

Toji replaces his hand with his lips and thrust up into you and few more times before pumping his warm cum into you.

You whimper against his lip with each twitch of his veiny cock, his large fingers finally give your clit a break.

He pulls away from the kiss and rubs his hand over your belly. You open your eyes and look up at him, the need for sleep is very clear on your face.

“You’re going to make an amazing mother.” He plants one last kiss on your forehead before he maneuvers you both to lay on your side.

You smile at the compliment and attempt to sit up so you can go and take a shower.

“Baby, we’re done now. I need to clean up and take a shower.” You look back at him and he raises an eyebrow in confusion.

“Oh no baby, we’re not finished. I was just giving you a break. We need to make sure you get pregnant, don’t we?”

~~~

“Happy Mother’s Day mama!” You hear from above you.

You open your tired eyes and are met with your son and husband standing over you with gifts and breakfast.

“Oh my goodness, thank you guys!” You sit up as quickly as your large belly will allow and rub the sleep from your eyes.

You pull Megumi into your lap with the help of Toji and plant a sweet kiss on his cheek. Toji sets the food next to you as he sits down and you kiss him as well.

“Daddy told me to tell you that he cooked.” Your son gives you a bright smile as he tells you the surprise and you hold in a laugh.

You can hear the older man suck on his teeth and can only assume an eye roll came after it.

“Well, I can’t wait to try the food Daddy cooked. I’m sure it’s delicious.” You reassure Toji and he gives you a small smile.

You hum in satisfaction at the taste of the food and also end up feeding your two boys in the process.

“When will my brother get here?” Megumi asks, well you assume that’s what he asked because his mouth is full of eggs.

“Well, baby the doctors said any day now, it’s up to him.” You wipe his face with a napkin and he giggles at the feeling.

“You can come out now, It’s okay!” Megumi lays on the bed and pokes at your stomach as he talks to it.

“Alright boy that’s enough, stop poking your brother.” Toji feeds him another piece of bacon and the little boy jumps off the bed quickly.

You laugh and shake your head while Toji just sighs.

“I don’t know where he gets that from.” He mumbles, stuffing eggs in his mouth now.

“Yeah, I have no clue either.” You say as you stare at the adult version of your son.

“How are you feeling? He doesn’t seem to have much space in there.” He looks down at your belly and tries to massage away any soreness.

“I’m doing alright, he’s ready to come out now. I haven’t had any more contractions within the last hour so I think I’m good.” You continue to eat more food and Toji just stares at you.

“Have you been having contractions and didn’t tell me?” He gently turns your face toward him and you nod your head.

“I woke up and you guys were gone so I laid back down, it’s not like my water broke or anything.” You shrug your shoulders only to realize that you may have spoken too soon as your bed dampens under you.

Toji’s eyes widen in pure shock and you smile nervously at him in return.

“Oops?”

Ari

[that-hazbin]

Happy New Year's, have an AU

AU where Alastor wasn't doing the horrible things that would land him in hell, and God panicked and realized that their Grand Plan of Redemption was falling apart from this single divergence. After all the hassle and headache of getting Charlie Morningstar into existence (TEN FUCKING MILLENNIA, LUCIFER, IT TOOK YOU THAT LONG TO SHAPESHIFT A DICK???), the Grand Plan can NOT be ruined because this one soul refused to go down and play their part.

Apparently, divine omniscience isn't good enough because it can't predict a Mama's Boy. Alastor promised his mama that he'd see her at the pearly gates, and he's damn well going to keep that promise. He's channeling all of his homicidal tendencies by airing out the dirty laundry of immoral scum on his not-so-legal radio broadcast. And anonymously sending the evidence to the news. And hey, you know what? Ruining people's lives seems to be a fate worse than death, because they're forced to live in misery! Mama was right, resisting temptation DOES grant reward!

(The temptation being homicide, and the reward being a fate worse than death, if he wasn't being clear.)

God is, of course, losing it, because one of the big pawns in getting The Grand Fucking Plan to work is not doing what they are supposed to, and seems to be on the track towards heaven. Which, what the fuck? HOW. That should not be POSSIBLE with a soul like this!

(Mama Alastor is just THAT good of a parent.)

So. God has to do something drastic here, obviously. They are NOT going to wait another ten thousand years for redemption to become possible, they've already waited long enough for shit like the EXTERMINATIONS to happen, and it'll just get worse in the future if they don't hurry this along.

God decides to do as their darling son Lucifer does, and makes a deal. With Alastor.

Alastor rejects the deal. Sorry, sir, his mama's waiting for him in heaven and he refuses to disappoint her.

God: Are you serious right now. Are you serious. I'm God.

Alastor: Yes, and?

God: I could literally grant you anything??

Alastor: I want to go to heaven and spend the rest of my afterlife with my mother. YOU want me to go to hell. Literally.

God: Well, yes, BUT. Once The Plan is finished, you can totally go to heaven afterwards?

Alastor: Uh huh. And how long do you anticipate this plan to take?

God, knowing full well that Charlie is mentally a teenager right now and is in no position to be making her dreams a reality for at least another century: UM.

Alastor: No deal, I'm not leaving my mama waiting.

To think, The Creator of All is DESPERATELY trying to get the cooperation of a mere mortal. Alastor is completely unmoved, and has made it clear that he only cares about his mother and her happiness. Which brings an idea to mind...

God: I could... make your mother a powerful figure in heaven?

Alastor: What? What use is power in heaven, isn't it already a paradise?

God: Uh. No, actually, otherwise heaven wouldn't be committing yearly genocide. Not all angels are virtuous, despite my best efforts.

Alastor: EXCUSE ME?!

Getting a deal was a lot easier after that.

Alastor kills a man (ONLY ONE, he can't disappoint his mama any further than that...) and then gets himself sent to hell. Fortunately, his deal grants him quite a lot of power to protect himself with! Unfortunately, he has a direct line of communication with God via sound waves. He hears God in his head. All. The. Time.

He has REGRETS.

All God seems to talk about is their favorite child, Lucifer, and The Plan. It is distracting and EXTREMELY annoying. Alastor knows more about Lucifer than any mortal in the universe, and he HATES IT.

[lavender-bun]

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿🎀✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

You were boiling with jealousy. You just wanted to have fun drinking and smoking with your friends and boyfriend and everything had been fine until you got a glance of some kook bitch flirting with JJ, batting her lashes at him stupidly and you already had your fist clenching by your side. Your grip tightening on the red solo cup, chugging down the rest.

Kie, Sarah, and Cleo followed your gaze and all knew it won't take long until you snap. You trusted JJ, it's just that you can't stand the fact that many girls or past flings on the island still tried making their shot even though they knew he's not on the market anymore.

You could see the annoyance on JJ's face but he was still being nice about it, which you cherish him for but also wished he would just walk away from her and leave her there dumbfounded.

You were really trying to keep your cool but then she had the audacity to touch his arm. That was it. Throwing the cup on the ground and ignoring Kie's scolding you marched over to where the boys were standing.

Pushing the girl's hand off JJ not so gently you stood between the two, your arms crossed over your chest while JJ wrapped his arm around your waist.

"Stay the fuck away from my man and go look for some kook dick instead of using pogues just so you can feel some type of power." You glared at her.

"Oh really? And that's coming from someone whose mom had practically slept with the whole island. I don't doubt you're any better-" Your fist made contact with her face before she could finish her insult, and you watched her fall onto the sand.

The boys shouted in surprise and you didn't let it end there, getting on top of her and grabbing her by her shirt with one hand.

"You ever take my family in your mouth again imma make sure you won't leave the hospital for a while, got that?" You whispered to her before feeling JJ wrap his arms around your middle to hoist you up and off her.

"Easy now, mama. Think she heard you loud and clear. C'mon, let's go." JJ carried you away while you kept cussing at the girl, making sure that the others on the bonfire see what happens when they mess with you.

After your little altercation, everyone decided it was better to call it a night and make your way back to the Chateau.

JJ went to hold your hand but quickly let go when you hissed in pain, instead he grabbed your wrist holding it up to look at your bruised knuckles. He smirked, kissing each of your knuckles gently.

"All that trouble for me, huh?" He teased and you rolled your eyes but smiled at him.

"Shut up. You would have done the same if any guy had approached me."

"True." He chuckled and when you tried to get out of his hold he stopped walking, pulling you against his chest. "I gotta admit, what you did there was pretty hot."

You smirked, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into a heated kiss while his hands went to squeeze your ass. Your little make out session got interrupted by John B clapping his hands to get your guys attention.

"C'mon, you lovebirds. You can mingle later, there are people who have a busy day ahead."

"Oh and you are one of them?" You raised an eyebrow at the brunette.

"Yeah, someone has to take care of your hangover asses tomorrow and that's probably me as I'm the most sober one here." He flicked your forehead and you slapped his hand away laughing.

"Better be careful bro or you'll be her next victim." JJ warned with a smirk placing his arm over your shoulders, kissing the side of your head.

"I think I broke her nose-"

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿🎀✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Requested by: @tracymbcm (I'm so sorry it took me so long to get to this 😭 hope you still like it the way it came out)

Taglist

For everything:

@lokigirlszendaya @buckymydarlingangel @superlegend216

For JJ Maybank:

@tracymbcm @spideysimpossiblegirl @chiaraanatra

[witchygod]

Thinking about Kenji Sato Flanderization

I think certain scene with Kenji certainly stood out out about Kenji for fans, particularly the "do my own thing" and "I know it's been a long year but you got me now" scenes and I've noticed a trend where Kenji is characterized as well honestly a bit of an asshole, sometimes to an unlikable degree so let's talk about it.

I also think these scenes have paid into some instances of flanderization of Kenji's character. Yes he's a bit arrogant and witty but he's not as egotistical as everyone thinks- he's certainly not as RUDE as everyone seems to perceive him though he does have a temper. It should be noted his temper only seems to come through when he's extremely stressed or on the field- in conflict. He's very graceful in how he handles Ami's questions as wel. He only gets snarky with his coach because his coach approached him first with abundant hostility which I'm gonna be real- not the kind of behavior that is ideal, one could argue he was trying to weigh Kenji's value but with the context of Kenji being a world series player in America this is value as an athlete that should be proven already, if he's concerned about Kenji's arrogance that'd be another thing and while that's certainly AN issue but he admits it plainly what it is 'this is Japanese baseball not American' and Kenji responding to that with a bit of disrespect is extremely fair- and coming from his coach it very much paints the tone of how he's gonna be interacting with his teammates.

A large part of Kenji's rudeness is a direct result of hostility or an active defense from either invasive questions perceived attacks on how 'japanese he is'. This is not a subtle sub theme of his character mind you- he straight up admits to Ami that the reason he 'doesnt give a shit' is because he had to learn to because he was always being judged for being Japanese in America.

Let's not get it wrong though- Kenji is arrogant and egotistical because seriously who gives out their autograph without being prompted. These are some traits, but he's not entirely up his own ass, and he's not rude (Mama Sato raised a very good boy... Ultradad helped too) . Aside from when he was pissy with her for asking some extremely personal questions off the back at a press event- Kenji is extremely respectful of Ami, he makes sure to remember the reporters by their names not publicist and while he's not humble he's very sociable. Hell he's even polite talking to the Kaiju- actively taking a gentler tone of voice with Gigantron despite his frustrations (and increasing panic over the fact the KDF is going to kill her and he can't figure out how to stop it)- he's snarky with Mina but even then he isn't entirely dismissive of her, honestly he treats an AI more like family than a servant which is a big difference in attitude than most egotistical superheroes with ai companions.

Kenji is not the sort to be a womanizer hell he doesn't even seem the sort to attend parties unless he's forced to, it's pretty clear he's a bit of a loner- this is evident as much as there is never a mention to him missing his teammates in America and the fact the only person he has to talk to in Japan aside from his father is an acquaintance he's not even certain won't publish his personal conversations with. (She won't because she's a fucking professional with ethics which is also the reason that she's not a love interest God bless I love you Ami💕) He's overwhelmed by relearning how to fit in to Japan, dealing with the xenophobia,adjusting to the new culture of baseball become Ultraman deal with his daddy issues and mourning the disappearance of his mother- all things that heavily influence his attitude and a lot of times seem to be overlooked by people.

We take away one or two of those stressors Kenji goes from snarky and arrogant to a whole lot more sociable and pleasant. He's at his core a sensitive and confident individual who's just really passionate about baseball. He's kind enjoys teaching others about his special interest and is charismatic and bold despite being prone to holding people at arms length. Which is fair because he has a lot of dangerous secrets.

In short Kenji Sato is just a Mama's boy girl(jk)

In short Kenji Sato is a pretty complex character who suffers from a decent amount of emotional constipation and just straight up having no friends. He's respectful and kind and a bit sensitive which can make him seem pretty temperamental and he's prone to pushing people away at the first sign of hostility or when they overstep his boundaries. He's extremely stressed throughout the movie and adjusting to a lot of NEW, and the KDF/Kaiju trying to get chunks out of him and the pretty blatant xenophobia from the baseball scene (ill justified by him playing badly :/) doesn't help.

I also didn't mention much of his reluctance to being a hero and his irresponsibility to the role initially I realized and I think that should be its own subject because what's going on there is less a personality thing and more.... Directly correspondent to his relationship with his father, and the fact he was GROSSLY unprepared for the role. But I do want to note that his sense of responsibility is a lot stronger than people think because it doesn't really take a lot to convince him to do the right thing after Nobiranga's death. If he was still prone to inaction after this event I'd chalk it up to a personality defect but no he's pretty quick to make more of an effort as Ultraman after this, he saw the consequences of his actions and while he's gonna whine about it he does what he has to.

I may also go on a Rant Rant later about his coach and how the next movie really needs to try to save his character because he's shit at his job....

[batmanlovesnirvana]

| BATTINSON HEADCANONS ! 🦇

A/N : old post from two years ago, but I’ve changed and added a few things since then

my boy is awkward as hell, but somehow, not at all—it really just depends on who he’s with and the vibe of the moment

sassy when he feels like it, but most of the time? he’s a total nonverbal enigma—half the time, all you’re getting are grunts and the occasional raised eyebrow

specially if you’re still just a stranger to him, or even just a friend

he’s ridiculously stubborn—dug-in-heels, won’t-budge-an-inch stubborn. and, of course, he inherited every ounce of it from his darling mama...

had a Star Wars phase when he was 9

he could’ve talked to you all day back then if you’d asked—about every character, every layer they had, his favorite, and why

I think his fave would’ve prob be Luke

but secretly, he’d have a soft spot for Darth Vader too—not for the evil he represents, but for the complexity of his character

he was definitely spoiled—lived the life of a prince, no doubt about it. but his parents made sure to keep him grounded, always lecturing him to be thankful for what he had and to value everything, no matter how small

he’s the last person to complain about anything, especially when it comes to material stuff

If your apartment’s not exactly perfect or if you don’t have all the fancy things, don’t feel embarrassed—he couldn’t care less about that

Bruce isn’t the type to judge people for their circumstances

what matters to him is who you are, not what you have

he traveled a lot and saw poverty up close. he didn’t just witness it; he experienced it and used it as a way to train and push himself

so I think he’d insist that you don’t let his wealth define you or make you feel small. he’d want you to focus on who you are, not what he has

but he’s still a billionaire

and sometimes it shows

Like if he takes you somewhere, he might be like,

“That place wasn’t good, not what I wanted for you, their steak was too dry”

or “The service was way below expectations.”

it’s not that he’s trying to flex, but his standards have been shaped by a life of luxury and privilege.

even if he doesn’t mean to, it can come off like he’s out of touch with the more everyday experiences.

listen, I’m pretty sure he was that kid in middle school—the one everyone liked. Popular, friendly, Shy, and effortlessly cool, he had a ton of friends and was the kind of person people just gravitated toward

but deep down, he was still an introvert at heart. No matter how many friends he had or how much people loved being around him, he always cherished his alone time—it was his way of recharging

probably teacher favorite

after his parents were murdered, he retreated into himself, becoming a loner—a shadow of the person he once was. the bright, sociable kid who could light up a room disappeared, leaving behind a quiet, guarded shell

he shut everyone out—his friends, his teachers, anyone who tried to reach him.

communication felt impossible, like talking to a wall ready to crumble at the slightest touch. he became volatile, quick to anger and prone to violent outbursts.

the smallest thing could set him off and it was clear he was battling demons far too heavy for a child to carry

he was always getting into fights at school, over the most ridiculous things—someone looking at him the wrong way, a comment that barely made sense, or a passing remark. it didn’t matter how trivial; he’d snap.

it was like he was itching for a reason to lash out, just to feel something other than the numbness that haunted him

alfred was absolutely fed up every time the school would call. It was the same routine—another fight, another complaint.

his patience was wearing thin but he never showed it.

he’d just sigh, straighten his tie, and head to pick Bruce up, trying to stay calm while his mind was racing with how much things had changed

alfred probably thought about quitting a dozen times, especially during those rough moments. he was already carrying the weight of guilt over Thomas and Martha’s deaths, feeling like he’d failed them in some way.

but even through his exhaustion, he couldn’t walk away.

he simply couldn’t abandon Bruce, not when his parents had entrusted him with their son’s care, not when the boy was falling apart.

bc alfred knew that no matter how hard it got, he had to stay—because Bruce needed him, even if he didn’t always show it.

it’s pretty clear that Bruce really doesn’t have time for small talk.

that man goes straight to the point, no beating around the bush. sometimes, it’s like he forgets there’s a filter between his brain and his mouth—so he comes off way too blunt.

but, honestly, he just doesn’t see the need to waste time on unnecessary pleasantries.

if he’s got something to say, he’s saying it, no fluff.

Bruce absolutely loves car races (it's actually canon in the prequel book)

he’s got that need for speed, and nothing gets his adrenaline pumping like watching or being part of a high-stakes race.

it’s not just about the cars; it’s the whole atmosphere, the precision, the thrill of it all.

you can tell he’s got a real passion for it—just one of those things he doesn’t talk about much bc he rarely even talks that is

and so, naturally, he’s got a huge interest in F1

He’s got a serious passion for mechanics too—like, borderline obsession

favorite car is, without a doubt, his grandfather's Corvette (the one that makes an appearance in that iconic funeral scene)

another phase he went through during his late teens—but never really left—was his obsession with Nirvana

It hit him so hard that he even picked up an electric guitar because of it.

spending hours alone in his room trying to replicate their sound, teaching himself riffs from songs like “Smells Like Teen Spirit” and “Lithium.”

it became an outlet for him, a way to channel his emotions without having to say a word

he wasn’t looking to impress anyone or form a band—it was just for him, a way to lose himself in the music. over time, he got pretty good at it, though he’d never admit it

and I think music became another refuge for him, a way to escape the chaos in his head

overall, though, he was a massive fan of Nirvana and Kurt Cobain

did date as a teenager, but it was never anything too serious

his heart was always more focused on Gotham—on his plans, his ambitions, and the legacy he was determined to create

relationships were never a priority for him back then; it was always about the bigger picture, the city that needed saving, the work that needed to be done.

gotham was always at the forefront of his mind, and nothing, not even the most charming date, could truly distract him from his ultimate goal

honestly, I don’t think he’s even a virgin. or maybe he is—who knows? but the prequel book did mention he knew his way around women, so it’s safe to say he’s no stranger to that side of things

was a straight-A student without even breaking a sweat. it just came naturally to him

fave subject was chemistry

he looks a lot like his mother but you could definitely see his father in him too—kind of a perfect mix of both, like a living blend of their best features

he inherited his mother jawline and hair

and his father eyes and nose

was really close to his paternal grandparents

they passed away when he was only seven, so his memories of them are more like faint impressions. but looking at the pictures on the fireplace, you can tell just how much they meant to him

according to Alfred, it was his grandparents who chose his name

never really knew anything about his maternal grandparents, except that they were long gone before he was even born. it was just one of those things he never thought to ask about, something his mother never spoke much about. it was as if they were just figures in the past, distant and forgotten, not even a whisper of a memory for him to cling to

he’s got a ton of distant cousins, most of them living over in Europe, but honestly he doesn’t talk to a single one of them. it’s not like he cares to, either.

that's another reason why Alfred ended up with custody. with all those distant relatives, none of them really stepped up and Bruce wasn’t exactly close to them anyway.

alfred was the one who had always been there, so it just made sense

didn’t mind being an only son, but deep down, he used to beg his mom for a sibling

comfort smell? It’s his mom’s perfume—lavender mixed with a hint of lemon

and Alfred cookies ofc

Bruce’s go-to comfort clothing is his dad’s old Harvard sweater—it’s just cozy and familiar.

as a kid, he’d call his mom "Mummy" or "Mama" and his dad "Papa."

most of his suits? Hand-me-downs from his dad. He’s only got a few of his own.His favorite sport is soccer—don’t ask why; it just makes sense.

Bruce has always been fascinated by his family’s history.

his dad used to tell him all these stories about their ancestors, and Bruce would listen so intently, always begging for more.

sure, the library had books on it, but hearing the stories from his dad just hit different. his dad’s voice made it all feel personal and alive.

oh, and he’s canonically descended from English royalty

his mom was really into gardening.

she loved her plants, especially lilies of the valley and Bethlehem stars.

Lily of the valley: sweetness and purity of heart.

Bethlehem star: hope and happiness.

she used to say they reminded her of his dad and Bruce.

Martha was also super into art and fashion.

she painted and was basically a Gotham fashion icon

because of her, Bruce was always dressed to impress as a kid

his dad, though, was the total opposite. Thomas Wayne’s tie was always crooked, and he had zero fashion sense

Bruce remembers how every morning, his mom would fix his dad’s tie and scold him about it, but Thomas would just kiss her to shut her up

at work, his dad was all about scrubs, and at home, it was pajamas and a robe

Bruce sometimes wears his dad’s robe now—it’s comforting

when it comes to fashion, Bruce is totally his dad’s son

if Alfred didn’t step in, he’d probably look a mess.

his dad loved photography and books

Bruce remembers how his dad used to take photos of his mom and him all the time

the library is packed with pictures of his family—mostly his mom and little Bruce

his parents’ love for each other was something else, and Bruce secretly dreams of having something like that one day

and deep down, he’s a total romantic. he gets that from his dad

he’s already decided that if he ever gets married, he’ll propose with his mom’s ring

a diamond blue sapphire ring

Alfred used to sneak him sweets before dinner (classic Alfred move)

they played chess a lot, though Bruce never actually won

Dory, his mom’s maid, was one of the midwives when Bruce was born

she’s also the one who taught him how to cook, and yeah, Bruce knows how to cook ( the essential at least )

everyone says he’s a cat person, but honestly, I feel he's more like a dog person. It just fits.

part 2 ?

or should I do dating headcanons ?

[ladelinee]

Authors note: I had so much fun writing this that I finished quickly. Maybe I will take longer with the next episode, as the next two weeks are very intense for me 🥲 Enjoy!!

Word count: 3,5K

Warnings: angst, innocent, a bit aggresive E, fluff.

Dontcha’ think It’s time

Part 2 (Part 1 here)

Before you reached the stairs, you could listen already the clinking silverware, lively chatter, and Elvis’s booming laughter. The smell of bacon, toast, and coffee pulled you toward the dining room.

Inside, chairs scraped, voices overlapped, and the Memphis Mafia crowded around the table, plates piled high.

At the center, little Lisa Marie sat in her high chair, happily making a mess spilling cereals.

Lisa spotted you right away. Her face lit up with a big, messy grin.

“You sittin’ by me?” she asked fascinated, her voice slightly muffled by the cereal in her mouth.

“Good morning, Yisa. Of course!” you replied with a warm smile while sliding into the seat next to her.

Lisa giggled, she was excited to enjoy breakfast with you.

Elvis, seated at the head of the table, glanced up. He noticed the interaction, the way Lisa beamed at you, and that put a smile on his face.

Leaning forward slightly, his eyes softened as he said “Mornin’, sugar” his voice smooth and welcoming. “How’d ya sleep?”

You looked over at him, your nerves easing at his kind tone. “Good, thanks. The bed is really comfortable.”

“Well, that’s good to hear” he replied, leaning back in his chair, coffee in hand. “Graceland ain’t that bad, is it?”

“No, it’s really nice” you answered honestly, feeling a bit more at ease.

Elvis nodded, pleased.

Across the table, Joe piped up, breaking the short moment of calm. “Hey, E, the tailor has been waiting for you to confirm a date. Them jumpsuits of yours are about ready to give up.”

“Yeah” Red added, cutting into his pancakes with a grin. “Keep movin’ like you do on stage, and those seams ain’t got a prayer.”

The table roared with laughter as Elvis rolled his eyes, though his grin betrayed his amusement.

“You boys got jokes this mornin’, huh?” he answered back between laughs. “Tell the tailor to come by tomorrow. And careful now, you’re talkin’ to the man who makes sure y’all get breakfast every day.”

Red grinned back. “That’s true, E. But maybe if you laid off the damn bacon those seams wouldn’t be screamin’ for help.”

Elvis shot him a mock glare as the room erupted in laughter again. But before he could retort, Lisa’s little voice piped up, clear as a bell.

“Damn bacon” she let out, nodding as if she agreed with Red.

Everyone laughed at the joke except Elvis, who sighed playfully. He wasn't impressed because Lisa was at that age of repeating everything.

Setting his coffee cup down slowly, Elvis licked his lips, stretched his arms, and cracked his neck like a man about to deliver the final blow. Then, with a smirk so lethal it could knock a man flat, he pointed his fork straight at Red.

“Listen here, I ain’t eatin’ all this bacon for me, man. I’m carb-loadin’ for later… gotta keep my energy up for your mama.”

The guys detonated.

Jerry fell against Charlie, grabbing his chest like he’d been shot. Charlie was howling, pounding the table so hard the syrup bottle tipped over.

Elvis took another bite of bacon, chewed slowly, and winked.

Red threw his hands up. “Man, what the hell, E?! I ain’t even say nothin’ that bad!”

Elvis just shrugged, taking a long sip of coffee. “Well, maybe next time you’ll think twice before talkin’ about me and my jumpsuits. ’Cause trust me, man, ain’t nothin’ burstin’ at the seams but your mama’s breathin’ when I walk through the door.”

“I’m done. I’m done.” Red slammed his napkin on the table.

Elvis grinned, popping another piece of bacon in his mouth. “Yeah, well… your mama ain’t.”

You sat calmly, hands resting on the table, taking it all in. You were watching and listening, completely absorbed. You didn’t understand every jab being thrown, but still. The way he shot back, so quick, so clever… it was something to admire. You fixed your eyes on him, wide with quiet awe, captivated by the effortless way he turned every joke in his favor.

You had no idea what was happening. But one thing was clear: Uncle Elvis was winning.

Elvis looked at you and instantly felt the weight of all his sins.

Red looked between you and Elvis and smirked. “Yeah, E… now you can’t say anything, huh?”

He shot Red a warning glare. “Oh, you dirty son of a…”

After few seconds Elvis swallowed real slow, suddenly feeling about ten degrees hotter. He glanced around: Charlie nudged Jerry. Jerry looked up, saw your sweet little face, and immediately covered his mouth, trying to hold in his laughter. Joe was staring directly at Elvis, mouthing, “Don’t. You. Do. It.”

Elvis cleared his throat, straightened his back, and gave you his most innocent, charming smile.

“Well now, sugar” he started smoothly, looking you dead in the eye. “Let’s just say… your ol’ Uncle does a lotta charity work”

The table lost it.

Joe was laughing quietly, struggling to catch his breath and kicking his legs. Jerry was nearly in tears. Red's face was all red, and he was mumbling something about how the Lord was testing him.

Wiping the tears from his eyes, Jerry added, “E, you’re going straight to hell, man.”

The playful teasing helped you unwind, and soon enough, you were laughing along with the jokes, a sense of belonging settling in.

Noticing you loosening up, Red smirked and leaned toward you. “See? Give it a year, and you’ll be just as wild as the rest of us.”

“Yeah, but for now, take it easy, Red. She’s just a little girl.” Jerry swallowed a piece of toast, smirking.

Hearing Jerry’s words stirred something inside you. Since the atmosphere they created was making you feel comfortable, you decided to bring this up. Excitement began to shine in your eyes as you declared with a smile, “Well, not for long. Uncle Elvis is gonna make me a woman.”

The room fell into an instant, stunned silence. Forks hovered midair, coffee cups stopped halfway to lips, not a single breathing, and wide-eyed glances darted across the table.

Elvis paused mid-sip, his coffee cup still hovering close to his mouth. He froze, staring at the scene blankly. Slowly, he lowered his hand, the cup dangling from his fingers as he looked around to see how everyone was reacting.

Red made the mistake of looking at Elvis, saw the absolute panic on his face, and lost the battle. His chest jerked with a barely contained snort.

Charlie’s face turned toward the ceiling, eyes shut tight, fighting for composure, while Joe shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Elvis like he was waiting for him to say something.

But the real problem, the reason the laughter was strained, the reason no one could quite look Elvis in the eye, was that the idea wasn’t actually impossible.

By experience, they all knew better.

Before Elvis could even pronounce a word, you continued innocently, completely unaware of the tension. “He said he’d teach me about what men like and how to be more confident, so I figured…”

Lisa, completely oblivious, grinned up at you, swinging her legs.

“Darlin’, I told y-“

Elvis didn’t even get to finish before Jerry leaned in, his voice low but urgent. “You might wanna hit the brakes before this train goes completely off the rails.”

In return, Elvis shot him a glare. “You think I don’t know that?”

Turning back to you, he forced a strained smile. “Now, sugar, what I meant was-“

“But you said-“

“I know what I said” Elvis cut in quickly, his voice tightening up with irritation.

Charlie decided to pour gasoline on the fire. “She’s got a point, E. You’re always braggin’ about how you know what women want.”

Elvis’s patience snapped. “Charlie, I swear to God…”

But you weren’t done. “And it makes sense, right? You said you know what men want, and if anyone can make me a woman, it’s you, Uncle Elvis!”

That was the final straw. The room went nuts, their laughter transforming into a strange mix of hiccuping, snorting, and wheezing. It sounded like a bunch of chickens getting spooked and a pack of turkeys doing their gobble thing, creating a total circus.

Elvis, however, didn’t find it funny.

“Alright, that’s enough!” he shouted. He slammed his hand on the table, making everyone jump. His face was bright red, and his eyes blazed with frustration. Every time he tried to speak, someone cut him off. His patience was gone.

The room quieted suddenly, giggles dying out in an instant. Lisa's attention snapped to her father, her eyes wide and glued to his face.

You shrank in your seat, your face red with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean anything bad” you whispered, your voice breaking.

Elvis sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know you didn’t, sugar” he said, his voice softer but still firm. “But you can’t…you just can’t say things like that. Not like that. Not here.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you pushed your chair back. “I’m sorry” you said quickly, bolting from the room before anyone could stop you.

No one spoke. No one dared.

Elvis exhaled heavily, dragging a hand down his face. The men exchanged uneasy glances until Jerry finally broke the silence. “Well…that went south fast.”

Elvis shot him a warning look but remained silent.

Red smirked softly “E, this is just a taste of what’s comin’. Wait till Lisa’s her age. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

Elvis glanced at Lisa, who had returned to her cereal as if nothing had happened.

“Lisa” he said tiredly, “finish your breakfast. And behave when you get older, ya hear me?”

Lisa looked up at him, confused but obedient. “Okay, Daddy” she replied, taking another bite.

As soon as breakfast was over, Elvis let out a quiet curse before standing abruptly and leaving the table.

He made his way upstairs, pausing outside your door to knock softly.

“Darlin’? You in there?”

No response. He hesitated, then turned the doorknob.

The room was empty.

Elvis’s stomach sank as he scanned the hallway, his worry mounting.

“Jerry!” he called with sharp voice. “Get everyone. She’s gone.”

You ran down the driveway of Graceland, your feet pounding on the hot pavement. As you neared the end, the city of Memphis sprawled out before you, alive with activity, a sea of unknown but filled with the promise of answers.

You didn’t stop. Not when the air burned your lungs, not when the weight of this morning’s turmoil pressed against your chest. You weaved through pedestrians.

Finally, the library stood before you.

You pushed open the doors, stepping into the cool, hushed space. “If no one’s gonna help me” you muttered under your breath, determination settling in your bones. “I’ll find out myself.”

Some time later, Elvis was behind the wheel of his Cadillac, the engine roaring as it crawled down the streets of Memphis. His knuckles were tight on the steering wheel. Jerry sat in the passenger seat, glancing anxiously between Elvis and the road ahead.

“E, you’ve been drivin’ in circles for an hour”

Elvis ignored him, his sharp blue eyes inspecting the sidewalks. “She couldn’t have gone far” he muttered.

Jerry sighed. “Look, maybe she just needed some air. She’s not gonna do anything crazy.”

“You didn’t see the way she looked when she left that table, Jerry. I snapped at her, and she ran off feelin’ like she’s got no one to talk to. Hell, I wouldn’t stick around after that, either.”

Jerry leaned back, crossing his arms. “She doesn’t know what she’s doin’. She just needs to cool off, and so do you.”

Elvis didn’t answer. He slowed the car as they passed the library, something catching his eye. He squinted at the front doors.

“There” he said suddenly, pulling over to the curb with a screech.

Jerry craned his neck. “You think she’s in there?”

Elvis didn’t reply. He threw the car into park, climbed out, and strode toward the library doors, his pace quick but steady. Jerry hesitated for a moment, then let out a sigh, shoved his hands into his pockets, and leaned against the car, eyes fixed on the library doors.

You were still flipping through books, growing more and more stressed. Your fingers trembled as you picked up another, then another, the words on the pages blurring together in your frustration.

“What’s all this about?”

The deep, familiar voice made you freeze. You looked up to see Elvis standing at the end of the aisle, his hands on his hips, his eyes fixed on you.

You sighed, guilt and relief flooding your face.

Elvis walked closer, crouching down so he was eye level with you. His gaze softened when he saw the pile of books around you, and the frustration written all over your face. “What are you doin’ in here, honey? You had us all worried.”

You glanced down at the book in your hands, fidgeting with the corner of the page. “I just…I thought maybe the library would help. My parents always said books have the answers, but none of these books explain anything about…”

“About what?” Elvis asked gently, his tone calm and patient now.

You hesitated, then blurted out, “About how to be a woman. I thought if no one was gonna help me, I’d figure it out myself. But these books don’t make sense!”

He glanced at the titles around you, understanding dawning on his face. “Sugar,” he said softly, “you don’t need no books for that.”

You looked up at him, your eyes glossy with tears. “Then how am I supposed to learn? I just…I want to understand what I’m supposed to do, what I’m supposed to be.”

Elvis let out a long breath, sitting down on the floor beside you, leaning his back against the bookshelf. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just stared down at the books scattered around you.

“Listen to me, darlin’” he said finally, his voice low and steady. “There ain’t no book out there that’s gonna tell you how to be a woman. That’s somethin’ you figure out on your own, little by little.”

“But I don’t even know where to start” you said, your voice small.

Elvis reached out, resting a gentle hand on your shoulder, making you look at him. “I’ll help ya, honey, as best as I can. But don’t go running off thinking you’re on your own.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks, and you sniffled, nodding. “I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

“I know you didn’t” he said, his voice soft. “And I didn’t mean to snap at you. That’s on me, sugar. M’sorry.”

You nodded again, the tension in your chest starting to ease. Elvis stood, brushing off his pants, and extended a hand to you.

“C’mon” he said with a small smile. “Let’s get you back home. You got the whole house worried about ya.”

The rest of the day, you felt a little more at ease.

For the first time in a long while, you felt supported. Like maybe… you weren’t so alone after all.

Even so, when night fell, sleep wouldn’t come.

You tossed and turned, kicking off the blanket, pulling it back on again, but nothing helped. Your mind wouldn’t settle.

Finally, with a sigh, you pushed back the covers and slipped out of bed. You hesitated at the doorway.

You still felt a little uncomfortable moving around on your own in a house that wasn’t yours. Everything felt too big, too unfamiliar, too grand. But waking someone up? That felt even worse.

So, you forced yourself forward.

Graceland was different at night. The house was silent, dimly lit, wrapped in shadows. The soft white carpet felt cool under your bare feet.

When you reached the kitchen, you traced your fingers along the cabinets, finding the fridge by touch alone. The soft glow illuminated the space as you pulled it open.

Carefully, you poured the milk and warmed it up the way your mother used to.

The moment the warmth hit your fingertips, you sighed, finally feeling something familiar. Something that felt safe.

You were ready to take that first, much-needed sip, and then you realized you weren’t alone.

Leaning against the counter, watching you, stood Elvis. His robe was hanging loosely, and his hair was messy, making him look different.

Finally, he spoke.

“Couldn’t sleep?” His voice was low, rough from the lateness of the hour.

You shook your head, “You either?” still gripping your glass.

Elvis let out a quiet huff, lifting the drink in his hand slightly. “I don’t do much of that these days.”

You hesitated, shifting slightly before finally stepping toward the counter, perching on one of the stools. You suddenly felt small in the space, small in his presence.

Elvis’s gaze flickered over you, noticing something, thinking, but keeping it to himself. He took a slow sip of his drink before exhaling through his nose.

“I told you I’d teach you a few tips, and I meant that” he murmured, his voice steady. “But I think you already learned the first lesson on your own.”

You frowned slightly. “What lesson?”

Elvis leaned forward, resting his forearms on the counter.

“You had initiative to do what your heart wanted” he said. “You made a decision for yourself, without anyone tellin’ you what to do.” A small smirk touched his lips. “And… you’re willin’ to change. That’s admirable, sugar.”

A warm feeling curled in your chest.

Elvis wasn’t the kind of man who gave compliments easily, not the ones that mattered.

But just as the moment started to feel too heavy, too serious.

He suddenly leaned back, stretching slightly.

“Ah, and also” he added, pointing at you, “you’re grounded for escapin’.”

You nearly choked on your milk. “What?!”

Elvis smirked, taking another sip of his drink. “Yeah. Sorry, young lady, but I gotta stick to it.”

“You don’t even ground people!”

“I do now” he said, chuckling. “First time for everything.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “This is so unfair.”

Elvis just shook his head, his laughter soft but real.

The moment softened, and for a second, it almost felt normal again.

Then, you studied him a little closer. His face wasn’t guarded like it usually was. He seemed… different.

“You look different at night,” you said out of nowhere, tilting your head.

Elvis raised a brow, smirking slightly. “That so?”

You nodded, taking a sip of your milk. “Yeah. You seem… I don’t know. Less like ‘Elvis Presley’ and more like… just you.”

Elvis exhaled a short laugh, shaking his head. “Darlin’, I don’t even know what ‘just me’ is anymore.”

You frowned, watching him carefully. “Well… I think you’re the best person I know.”

That made him stop.

His fingers tensed subtly around his glass. His lips parted slightly, as if he was about to speak, but then he hesitated. He had spent years battling to separate the man from the artist, struggling for people to see the difference between who he was and who they expected him to be. But you were too young to understand the weight of that fight, and he wasn’t about to launch into a speech. Instead, he swallowed the thought, keeping it to himself.

You didn’t know why, but you wanted him to believe you. So you continued.

“I…I think you’re kind, and funny, and you make everyone feel safe. And I don’t think people tell you that enough.”

Elvis stared at you, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek.

His blue eyes flickered in the dim light, studying your face. Then, before you could think, his hand lifted, fingers grazing along your cheek.

“Appreciate it, darlin’”he said, his smile warm and sincere.

The touch was light, barely there, but it sent a strange feeling through you.

It was warm. It was soft. It made something deep in your stomach flutter in a way you didn’t understand.

You looked up at him, your breath hitching slightly. He was so tall, and his hand seemed enormous compared to your face.

Elvis seemed to realize how you were reacting to what he had just done.

His hand lingered just a second too long, his thumb brushing the corner of your jaw, before he suddenly pulled away like if the surface was burning, clearing his throat.

Elvis shifted, suddenly looking tense, uncomfortable. He ran a hand through his hair, reaching for his drink like he needed something to do.

You swallowed, confused by the strange feeling left behind.

The athmosphere in the kitchen felt heavier now. Different.

Elvis downed the rest of his drink in one go and turned his back to you.

“Alright, honey” he said, voice tighter now, forced into something lighter. “Time for bed.”

You hesitated, still feeling the ghost of his touch on your skin.

But finally, you nodded.

“Okay.”

You slid off the stool, heading for the doorway.

Elvis didn’t turn around.

As you walked back to your room, you weren’t sure what had just happened.

You didn’t know why your heart was beating too fast.

You didn’t know why your skin still felt warm.

And you didn’t know why as soon as the door clicked shut behind you…

Elvis let out a long, sharp breath and muttered under his breath, “Shit.”

Tag: @iloveelvisss