#( he's going on my muses 2 / request only muses page )

[biolumien]

Might I say that the Hoshina x Painter! reader was a brush stroke of genius. It's superb so if its possible, I'd like to request a part two?

Maybe Hoshina gets to go out on a date. And of course, the recruits quickly finding out about this and they sort of try to spy on them while they go about their day. Up to you really. I just live for the concept, and I defo want to see how things play out. Especially since their worlds are so far apart from each other.

He probably doesn't know the first thing about art. And Reader probably knows nothing of Kaijus. Let alone swordsmanship or martial arts. And the sudden match made between them is sure to make rapid news around Tachikawa base because, 'Ayo that's our Vice Captain with the famous painter who just so happened to paint his portrait a few days ago?' AKAKHSKNS such an endearing concept.

notes: insanely good pun. i hope this is okay! part 2 of this fic.

the second stroke

soshiro hoshina x gn!reader no warnings apply, i think! let me know, though. word count: 1306

talking to hoshina was–awkward. or so you thought, at least. you couldn’t exchange many words following the panel, apart from saying hi–hoshina had immediately gotten swarmed with questions–what was the relationship between the two of you? what was the meaning behind what you’d said? so you’d managed to find him in the aftermath, pulled him aside and made tentative plans to meet up in the coming days.

you stopped having dreams of your mysterious muse altogether at this point. once in awhile, you thought you might have felt the faint whisper of warmth, the ghosting touch of lips brushed against the side of your face. that had to have been real, right? but the fact that you couldn’t remember your dreams now–if you even had them at all, worried you more th an you’d like to admit.

you’d agreed on a date in a discrete location–but despite that, you held a pretty large parasol in the park, with loose-fitting clothes to disguise the bulk of your figure.

“so it’s true, then?” hoshina asks as the two of you wander the park, past some shady trees. “that’s… i mean, it’s… pretty… ha, i mean, that kind of stuff comes out of a romance novel, no?” 

you like the way the sunlight dapples across his hair, dances across the bridge of his nose. your fingers itch to paint, to scrape a palette knife across a stretch of canvas. 

“it sounds far fetched to me, too,” you mumble, spinning the straw of your drink. “that i would dream of a man from a past life–who… happens to be you. happened. to be you. also in a past life. and i think… well, i–i think we were lovers? or-or something like that.”

“lovers,” hoshina echoes. 

he pauses.

your face feels hot.

“it’s stupid,” you mumble. “i know. i know it is.”

“it’s not,” hoshina says. “i mean–i’m not… a believer. in most of that kind of stuff, but. you painted me.” he laughs. “that’s gotta be proof of something bigger than the both of us. i don’t know if i should be happy or sad that it’s real. like–”

he flexes his hands.

“do you get what i mean? like–like… i’ve been telling myself that-that… i was doing everything within my power–to be the way i was, and then… if there really is some kind of divine providence, pulling us together–some red string of fate, the kind that bonds lovers together–how am i so sure that a god didn’t just decide the limits of my capabilities? i’m not sure… how to feel about it.”

you ponder his words.

“fighting kaiju is… a completely new world, compared to me,” you say. “but i’m sure even if it–even if it was divine providence, you’re doing something only you can do. and–and i think that’s wonderful.”

hoshina’s eyes soften.

“wonderful?” he murmurs. 

“yeah,” you say. “someone–not just someone, but… we’re all… relying on you. that’s something i could never imagine.”

“i mean–” hoshina laughs, brushing a hand across the back of his neck. “i couldn’t imagine painting the way you do. that seems so overwhelming–to conjure things from your imagination and deliver them to the page.”

you shake your head.

“it’s a bit of that, but it’s not completely from my imagination. i do a lot of portraits–with real models, things like that,” you mumble, your face flushing a little bit at his words. “it’s… mm. a complicated progress, but it’s not nearly as physically intensive as you fighting kaiju. i-i read a bit. from some of your press interviews.”

“oh?” hoshina’s eyes widen, and he laughs. “that’s–well, i didn’t… most of those were just–scripted.”

“my press interviews are, too,” you say.

hoshina’s lips quirk up.

“i guess we’re kind of the same, yeah?” hoshina says, nudging you slightly, his hand reaching out to cross the gap between the two of you–of you. he doesn’t intrude further though, even as he crosses the gap—seemingly shy and nervous, worried and careful not to do more until you were okay with it. 

you relax your stance a little, and his hand brushes against yours. 

“i guess so,” you say, blinking up at him. your face feels hot.

you don’t know whether the fluttering in your heart is from you or if it’s from that whisper of a past life, the repeated lines of affection–that it should feel this easy to fall for hoshina, because some version of you did, a stranger-yet-familiar-yet-familiar. hoshina’s expression is somehow fond, and he leans closer before–

he suddenly perks up, his head whirling around, checking the surroundings.

“what’s–” you start, but hoshina raises a hand, glancing at you before raising a finger to his lips. you fall silent, your heart pounding against your throat.

“come out,” hoshina says sharply. “you guys aren’t subtle at all. you’re lucky that kaiju are so stupid.” 

from behind one of the trees, several people come skulking out with lowered heads, as if they were scolded toddlers.

“i told you this was a bad idea,” says a boy with mint green hair, elbowing a taller, older man. the man hangs his head, recoiling dramatically at the boy’s touch. “you can’t get past hoshina at all.”

“in my defense,” the man says apologetically, remorsefully, “i was just curious where he was going… it’s not often he takes days off. you know this.”

“i warned you,” says a woman with her hair drawn up in a tall ponytail. her voice is quiet, but she’s striking–and you wonder what kind of charcoal you might use to sketch out the sharp lines of her face–and then you realize you’ve seen her face scattered across billboards. mina ashiro?

“i love this bit you guys do,” hoshina laughs, archly, “where you talk like i’m not even here. come on. if you want to–hey, put that–put that down. don’t–”

mina lowers her phone as hoshina blurts it out, her face bemused. 

“sorry,” mina says. “force of habit. i keep an album of every moment where you let your goody facade drop. do you want to see?” she looks at you, holding out her phone. “i have some where he’s asle–” “not on the first date,” hoshina says, his voice pitching higher. 

“first date?” the man’s eyes widen. “captain hoshina, you’re on a date? with that artist? the one who drew you?”

your eyes scan between him and hoshina.

“yes,” hoshina says tersely. “is it that weird?”

“no,” the man says. “just–you don’t seem like the romantic… type?”

“i’m not,” hoshina says.

you feel something like cold ice seize your throat.

“but i… i want to try,” hoshina amends, and his hand reaches out for yours, a grasping thread of intent. you entangle your fingers in his, and the weight of his hands feels right. like a preordained fate–you were always meant to find each other, and the weight and feel of his fingers entangling yours, his knuckles tightening as if he was afraid to see you disappear–

that was right.

“if we’re really bonded by fate, anyway,” hoshina says, glancing at you–and your heart seizes in your throat, caught by how earnest he seems– “i want to see it to the end.”

your face heats up.

“it was–it was just a painting,” you mumble. 

“a really good painting,” hoshina adds, and he laughs.

“you guys are cute,” mina says. “but you’re grossing me out. just a little.”

her face is impassive, but the corners of her lips quirk up a little as she says the words.

“oh, how it hurts,” hoshina says dramatically, pulling you closer to him, “to have stirred the ice-cold heart of mina ashiro so.”

and your face flushes again, brighter, but you cling tightly to hoshina like a lifeline, and wonder what shade of red you might use to carve out the feeling of love in your chest.

[devildom-moss]

Signs of Affection (kiss)

Part 2 of this request (Lucifer, Leviathan, Diavolo, Barbatos, and Simeon)

(Mammon x gn!MC) (Satan x gn!MC) (Asmodeus x gn!MC) (Belphegor x gn!MC) (Solomon x gn!MC)

(Suggestive)

Word Count: +4,100 (we aren't going to talk about the size difference between these shorts okay?)

Mammon

“Geez, that sucked. Two hours of silent studyin’ for an F? I got a different F for that guy: a big ‘fuck you,’” Mammon grumbled to himself with his hands folded behind his head as he walked out of his mandatory extra lessons – or rather, they could have been classified as lessons if he had actually learned anything. Instead, Mammon spent the first 5 minutes trying to read one paragraph four times and the next 3 minutes trying to read the following paragraph before he became acutely aware that the supervising professor for today was watching him. He was clearly disappointed and judgmental of Mammon’s ongoing failure to turn the page. For the rest of his lesson, Mammon alternated between daydreaming about you – twisting your image in his head into a variety of different scenarios from innocent dates to the most depraved acts – and counting how many times he could spot the first letter of your name on the page. At least with the latter, it looked like he was reading.

“Mammon! How was delinquent rehab?” you teased him from your spot on the bench outside of the class.

Mammon shrieked and jumped. “W-what the fuck are ya doin’ here?!”

“MAMMON!” The supervisor poked his head out of the door. “Stop yelling in the hall and go home before I decide to keep you for another hour.”

“Sorry, that was my fault, Professor Amy. I startled him.” You stood up and bowed slightly, hoping the astronomy – and somehow, simultaneously, art – professor would go easy on Mammon if you took the heat.

“Oh, it’s you.” You were right to hope; Amy’s tone instantly softened. “If you’re on your way home, please take this loudmouth with you.”

“Who ya callin’ a loudmouth, man?” Mammon growled. You cupped your hand over his mouth; better late than never.

“Yes, I’ll be on my way now. I was just waiting for Mammon to finish his lessons.”

“Does being an idiot pay off after all?” Amy mused aloud – mostly to annoy the muzzled Mammon. “Very well. Be safe on your way home.”

“Alright, thank you, sir.” You smiled at him and began to drag Mammon down the hall. You only uncovered his mouth once the professor had gone back inside, and you were safely out of earshot.

“’Thank you, sir,’” Mammon mocked you. “Fuck was all that? You ain’t fuckin’ that teacher now are ya?”

“No, you pervert. It’s called being polite. You’d probably get in less trouble if you tried it with a few of your professors.”

“What’cha doin’ bein’ all polite to him for, anyway? Guy’s not even a good teacher, and he clearly has a human kink. Just stay away from him.”

“I almost never talk to him outside of our classes.” You rolled your eyes at Mammon. His jealousy had been excessive recently. As a slight punishment, you decided to tease him. “And why do you know so much about human kinks that you can recognize it in someone else?”

“Shuddup. It ain’t like that!”

“Like what?”

“I don’t have a human kink or nothing,” Mammon yelled. His cheeks burned, and he blurted out, “it’s only you.”

“Sorry, what was that?” you teased, biting back your smile.

“I didn’t say shit. Forget it.” Mammon crossed his arms as he picked up his speed just enough to walk ahead of you, hoping to avoid showing you the blush that stained his face.

“Okay, Mammon.” You dropped it, allowing him a bit of his dignity.

You both walked in silence for a minute until, finally, Mammon slowed down and started to walk beside you again. His blush had calmed. He glanced to the side briefly, trying not to draw your attention, but you noticed and smiled at him. Why do ya always look so cute ‘n happy when you’re walkin’ home with me, huh? What gives? Mammon wondered. If something as simple as walking home could make you smile like that, you were going to start charming demons left and right, and Mammon had no intention of sharing any more of you than he had to. That’s why he was so annoyed by you being nice to that professor. Just thinking about the way that demon’s face softened around you was pissing him off.

Suddenly, Mammon remembered what you had said, and his cheeks reignited in a faint blush. Nervous and masking his shyness with aggression, Mammon asked, “Hey, were ya serious about that back there – about just waitin’ for me to get out?”

“Yeah, of course I was.”

“For real? Ya waited two whole hours?”

“For my favorite hole? Yeah.” You smirked.

“Shuddup!” Mammon’s face burned. “Now who’s bein’ a perv?!”

“At least we’re even.” You smiled sweetly, as if you hadn’t just said something so vulgar – on a public street, no less.

Mammon stopped in his tracks, confidence surging in him. You stopped and looked back, confused. He grinned. “Ya must really love the Great Mammon, huh?”

“Sure do,” you readily agreed.

“I knew it!” Mammon pronounced – as if the occasional doubt had never wandered into his head. While he still had the courage to act, Mammon grabbed the sides of your face and quickly placed a kiss on your cheek. He whispered in your ear, “Thanks for bein’ so sweet to me, MC.”

Before you could register what had just happened, Mammon took off running towards the House of Lamentation. He pulled out his phone, skillfully dodging random obstacles and other demons as he appeared to start typing something. Seconds later, your D.D.D. buzzed.

Mammon: First one home gets a real kiss from the loser. Deal?

You laughed and stared down the street, watching as Mammon increased the distance between you. There was no way you were going to catch up to him.

MC: Deal. 💛

Satan

Satan was utterly thrilled when he found out the library had finally received the book that he requested two months ago. He insisted upon checking it out immediately after class, and since you had studying to do anyway, you went along with him.

With his new book acquired, Satan joined you at the small table you had settled into and began to read. However, his attention’s lifespan was uncharacteristically short despite his initial excitement. Satan’s eyes wandered away from the page, drifting up to you. Each time he tried to refocus on the book, his gaze punished him for a failure to indulge himself by lingering on you.

Few things enticed Satan more than you – especially when you got that serious look on your face. He had tried to keep reading too many times to keep track of, and now he couldn’t bear to tear his eyes away from you again. So, he just sat there, watching you read over your notes, recopying the most relevant points on a fresh sheet of paper. You were being so diligent.

One of the awful things about demons is that the alarm bells that go off in your head when you think someone is watching you are stronger and scarier when that someone is a powerful demon – and the fear your innate human senses created under the predatory gaze of a demon like Satan, whose sin was a destructive and devastating wrath, was intense. It sent a shiver up your spine, and when you looked up to find Satan’s eyes locked on your face, you jumped in your seat slightly. He didn’t need to look so hungry.

“Please stop staring, Satan.” You looked away, trying to turn your attention back to your studies.

“You don't want me to stare at you?” Satan got out of his seat across the table and took the spot right next to you. He propped his chin up in his hand and stared at you up close, eyeing you up and down with a smug grin on his face. “I want to. What's the problem?"

“It’s a bit distracting to have your eyes on me.” That was at least mostly true. There was no need to mention he was also turning you on in public. “I’d rather you not just stare at me.”

“Is that all?” Satan laughed. “You don’t want me to just stare? Very well.”

Satan leaned in, slowly shutting his eyes, and kissed your cheek. His warm lips lingered on your skin and his hot breath tickled. You could feel another chill run up your spine when his eyes fluttered back open. Even when he pulled back, his mouth hovered just over your cheek.

Another set of eyes landed on you. From a few aisles away, another library regular was stunned in their spot, mortified to have witnessed the Avatar of Wrath kissing a human in the library – not that they hadn’t seen worse. They gave you an awkward wave before turning and walking in the opposite direction, abandoning the book they had been searching for.

“Satan,” you chided him.

“What?” Satan hummed, inching closer to your ear, and whispered, “Do you still want more?”

“Someone saw.” You felt a bit guilty about it, too. Their embarrassment matched yours; in fact, it may have been even worse. “Why did you kiss me?”

“I wanted to. And who cares if someone saw? What are they going to do about a kiss on the cheek? It’s fine.” Satan placed another kiss on your cheek before returning to whisper seductively in your ear, “Besides, we’ve done worse. Don’t act so shy and innocent now. Do you need a reminder of all the things we’ve done – or perhaps you’d prefer a physical demonstration?”

What did you do to deserve this? You were just trying to study.

Asmodeus

“You weren’t waiting too long for moi, were you?” Asmo rushed to the table that you had grabbed when you arrived. He had a grin on his lips, but that charming smile was a cover for the guilt and anxiety he felt about being fifteen minutes late for your date. He couldn’t figure out which pair of socks to wear to complement his boots and skirt – and in the end, he just ended up pulling on a pair of lace stockings. Usually, Asmo didn’t care if he was a little late, but the idea of leaving you all alone in a demon-infested night café didn’t sit well with him.

“I would have happily waited much longer – especially when you show up, looking this cute.” You smiled at him sweetly, and every inch of Asmo’s body burned.

“Ooh, you little charmer.” Asmo giggled. “Did you order yet?”

“Of course not; I wanted to wait for you.”

“Such an obedient human,” Asmo teased, leaning over the table and resting his chin on his hand. He stared at you affectionately.

“I’ve never been called that in my life.” You laughed, and that only made Asmo happier to have said it.

“Want me to go up and order? Just tell me what you want – other than me, of course.” Asmo got to his feet and waited patiently for you to relay your order. With a smile and a wink, Asmo booped your nose. “Excellent. Now make sure to enjoy the view.”

Before you could question him, Asmo spun around and walked toward the register. Each step was a deliberate effort to draw your attention to his legs and ass. Oh. That view. Asmo was a hopeless flirt, but he was awfully sweet, too. Besides, you couldn’t deny that it was a good view.

Unfortunately, as Asmo returned from placing the order, he was faced with the irritating realization that he was not the only view in the café. He caught a handful of demons leering at you – and one of them appeared to be approaching. Not on Asmo’s expensive, crystal watch. He hurried back to the table just in time to cut off the tall demon, placing his delicate hand over your shoulder possessively. With a haunting smile, Asmo stared them down. He announced – more to the other demon than to you, “I’m back, hun. Did you miss me?”

A shiver ran up the demon’s spine, and their eyes went wide. They weren’t about to square up with Asmodeus over a human – not after all the rumors they had heard about bloodlust being stronger in lust demons than those ruled by wrath. The demon awkwardly tried to escape by blurting out, “enjoy your date.”

The demon scurried away quickly, and you looked up at Asmo just in time for his menacing aura to dissipate. “That was weird, right?”

“Some people just can’t act right around cuties.” Asmo dismissed your worry with a lighthearted laugh.

“So, you get that a lot?”

“Sometimes, but I don’t mean me.” Asmo leaned down to whisper in your ear, “You’re so cute it’s drawing attention.”

“I’m not as cute as you, though.” You smiled. “Now, sit down with me.”

“Actually, I was hoping we could snap a few pictures first. Do you mind?”

“Sure, I guess.” You shrugged and started to stand, but Asmo used his hand that was still resting on your shoulder to push you back down into your seat.

“No need to get up,” Asmo cooed. He took a step back and leaned over your chair so he could get right next to your face and drape his arms over you. “This position is perfect.”

Asmo snapped a few pictures. With each one, he seemed to get closer until his cheek was pressed to yours affectionately. He asked you to make a half heart with your hand and completed it with his own. Then, catching you off guard, Asmo kissed your cheek tenderly, waiting a few seconds before finally snapping a picture. He immediately pulled his phone back and stood up to discreetly examine the photo. The shit-eating grin on his face spoke for itself. He was all too pleased with it.

“What was that?” You scoffed. You probably should have anticipated that level of physical affection from Asmo, but sometimes, he still surprised you.

“Hmm? Isn’t it obvious?” Asmo looked down at you, innocently tilting his head. “I had to mark my territory.”

“What?” Your eyes widened. Sure, Asmo was always teasing you and flirting, but you hadn’t quite expected that answer. Asmo giggled and bent over, getting indecently close to your neck.

“I had to mark you,” he repeated in a low, seductive tone. “Would you rather I leave a hickey on your neck right now instead? I’d be happy to.”

“Just be a good boy and sit down.” You sighed. It wasn’t that embarrassing, but all you could do was imagine Lucifer’s voice scolding you for indulging Asmo too much in public.

“Ooh, I do want to be your good boy. Okay.” Asmo grinned, biting back the urge to call you one of a myriad of unacceptable titles, and returned to his seat across from you. He pulled his phone out and started messing with it. “See, I’m behaving.”

You laughed. Something told you that he was not, in fact, behaving. It only took a few minutes of mindless chatting while he continued tapping away at his phone – a habit you were so accustomed to that it usually didn’t strike you as rude – for your suspicion to be confirmed.

Your D.D.D. buzzed with an alert from Asmo’s Devilgram. He posted the picture of him kissing your cheek with a pink heart emoji covering your face – for the sake of your privacy. That was decent of him. You smiled softly, certain that Asmo was watching you. It already had over 6k likes by the time you scrolled down to read the caption: Ugh. My date is so cute that they’re attracting all sorts of attention. No one else deserves to see that cute face tonight but moi~ What do you think, everyone, should I mark them for myself?  

Asmo was spared a playful lecture when his name was called at the counter. You got up to help him carry the drinks and food back to your table. The barista seemed to be staring at you, but when Asmo put his finger up to his lips, they got flustered and looked away, returning to their work. Covering your face in the picture served another purpose: Asmo was hiding the gloss mark he left on your cheek. You didn’t need to know about it yet.

Belphegor

Belphie was lucky that you had chosen to sit in the back of the lecture hall where he could comfortably lean up against your shoulder and fall asleep without immediate repercussions. At least he was polite enough to nap on the shoulder for your non-dominant hand so you could continue to take notes as you listened to the lecture. Occasionally, you glanced down at his sleeping face; he looked so sweet, peaceful, and adorable.

The clock ticked down the few remaining minutes of the lecture, which was your cue to begin the wake-up process. Although Belphegor seldom cared what his brothers or the professor thought about him using you as a pillow during class, you found that it was easier to just wake him up before the complaints came rolling in. You set your pen down, pet Belphie gently, and whispered his name so that only he would hear you. A soft moan left him, and he nuzzled into your arm before leisurely opening his eyes with a content smile.

“Good morning, MC.” Belphie whispered into your ear.

Reluctantly, Belphegor forced himself upright and away from the warmth of your body just in time for the lecture to be dismissed. The professor and other students gathered their things and collectively made their way towards the doors. You, however, waited on Belphegor to shake off his nap and get to his feet.

“C’mon, MC. Catch up,” Mammon shouted from the front of the class.

“Give us a second,” you replied at a lower volume.

“Man, you two are so slow. I ain’t waitin’ around forever.” Mammon groaned and made his way slowly towards the door.

“He would know slow,” Belphie muttered just loud enough for you to hear as he stood up.

“Belphie,” you chided him, but your tone went ignored.

“Hey, can I borrow your notes later? Maybe we could review together.” There was a soft, sweet neediness in Belphie’s voice.

“Didn’t you catch the lecture in your sleep like you usually do?” Sometimes Belphie’s ability to remember things that happened around him while he was asleep creeped you out. He was like an unassuming monitoring device if he wanted to be.

“Indulge me.” Belphie knocked his shoulder against yours playfully.

“I always do, don’t I?” You sighed. That was the unfortunate effect he had on you: you always found yourself spoiling him, even when he didn’t deserve it – or rather, especially when he didn’t.

You were just about to walk into the hall when Belphie grabbed your hand and pulled you back into the classroom before the others spotted you. He played with your hand, caressing you with his thumbs. His cheeks were stained light pink as his eyes flitted from your hand to your face.

“What’s the matter, Bel?”

Belphie closed the distance between you, springing forward to kiss your cheek. The sudden movement surprised you, but it wasn’t especially shocking; Belphegor had always been physically affectionate. He inched closer, causing his hot breath to ghost over your skin. His lips curved into a precious grin as he whispered in your ear: “Thank you for always spoiling me.”

The honey-sweet tone of Belphie’s voice was undercut by a sharp yell from the corner of the room. “I saw that.”

It was Solomon. He stopped shoving his books into his bag to glare at the back of Belphegor’s head. Unfortunately for Solomon, Belphie wasn’t bothered; he simply rolled his eyes and shrugged.

“Cool shit, bro.” Belphie replied in a condescending tone and lifted his arm up in the air to flip Solomon off. You watched Solomon’s jaw drop slightly as he physically recoiled. Sometimes Solomon forgot how rude Belphegor could be. It was hard not to laugh, but you really shouldn’t encourage his bad behavior by laughing. “Come on, MC. Let’s go.”

Belphie grabbed your arm and dragged you into the hall. He was attached, and he had no intention of letting you go anytime soon. In fact, he planned to stay glued to your side until his desire for your attention was fully satisfied.

Solomon

The warmth of Solomon’s hands as he caressed your cheek was nothing compared to the warmth of his praise and your own pride swelling in your chest. Solomon hummed, “You did such a good job.”

You had successfully used a heating spell on the first try, evidenced by the warmth in Solomon’s previously cold hands. It had been a while since you got a spell that Solomon taught you perfect right away – let alone one that required you to manipulate another person’s body (and you could worry about the ethical dilemma involved with that later). Neither of you had expected you to raise his body temperature at such an ideal rate and stop at the perfect temperature. Of course, Solomon trusted you not to hurt him, but he was impressed by your control. He wanted to test you further.

“Excellent. Let’s try something similar.” Solomon began to search his shelves for the right ingredients. He continued to talk as he scanned, “I want to see if you can cool down an external object with the same level of control. If you can do it, I’ll reward you.”

“Bring it on,” you accepted. Solomon offered you plenty of praise when you did well, but he so rarely gave you an actual reward for your work. It was exciting to imagine what you could earn. Maybe he would teach you a cool, secret spell or give you a magical item. But more motivating than a reward was the idea of making Solomon proud.

“That’s my apprentice – so eager,” he mused, grabbing a bottle of glowing red liquid.

“Oh, but no home cooking as a reward,” you added, sparing your future self from potential suffering.

Solomon whipped his head around with a pout before returning to his search. He found a beaker and brought everything to his desk. By then, the pout had reshaped itself into a smirk. “I didn’t have cooking in mind when I offered you a reward, so it looks like we have a deal.”

Solomon poured plain water and the glowing red liquid into the beaker. They failed to mix. You asked, “What do I have to do?”

It was simple – or at least that was what Solomon said. All you had to do was cool the contents of the container between 32 to 36 degrees below the freezing point of water. If the red substance dipped under 36 degrees below the freezing point of water, it would become unstable. If you failed, the ice and glass would break open. Solomon didn’t tell you anything about the red substance or what “unstable” meant for it. All you knew was that you had a four-degree margin of error.

“And you’re sure it’s safe?”

“I wouldn’t put my favorite apprentice in danger for a game, would I?”

With that reassurance, you focused your magic into the beaker. As the water slowly solidified, the red liquid became concentrated at the center until it was encased in ice. You just had to keep lowering it until something felt right. You stopped and nodded. Solomon inspected the beaker.

“A beautiful job,” Solomon praised you.

“Really? What did I do though?”

“I’ll tell you once the ice melts,” Solomon waved off your curiosity. “For now, it’s time for your reward. Close your eyes.”

You did as he instructed and listened to him moving about the room. His presence got closer until you could feel his warmth. He placed a soft kiss on your cheek, causing your eyes to shoot open and your face to burn. Solomon chuckled at your response.

“I could feel your cheeks getting warm. Did I embarrass you?”

“No. I was just surprised.”

“Really?” Solomon leaned in and kissed your cheek again. “I don’t know. Your face burns under my lips.”

“You’re a terrible teacher,” you retorted. That wasn’t what you were expecting, of course he flustered you.

“Oh? That can’t possibly be true. My adorable apprentice seems to be doing quite well,” Solomon laughed, all too pleased with his successful attempt to tease you. “You learn so quickly. Should we try something even harder? Think you can handle it?”

There was a seductive tint to his words, and you narrowed your eyes at Solomon. “Same shady reward system? Pass.”

“Nope,” Solomon leaned close, trying to entice you. How were you just now noticing how sweet he smelled? Was he wearing perfume or cologne today? You didn’t have time to linger on the thought. Solomon dropped his voice, and through a wicked smirk, he added, “even shadier. If you succeed, I’ll do whatever you ask for a full day.”

“And if I fail?” you asked cautiously.

“I get to punish you.”

(gift version - Beelzebub, Thirteen, Raphael, Mephistopheles)

A/N: These ones got really flirty. . . oh well. Uhm, leave me nice comments or something. I don't know. I feel like I'm forgetting to say something. . .

[storm-angel989]

Hi! Are you taking requests? If so, may I have a part 3 of Reader disobeying pls? I just finished part 2 and honestly, if I was her I’d still flinch when Valentino was around, and maybe find a way to sneak in some extra food or cash to any of his “workers”, maybe even working a little too hard as a way to distract herself from potential flashbacks. (I just want the Vees to feel regret over how they handled her behavior…😅😏)I’d really appreciate if you’d put those points in it too! God this is getting long I’m sorry! Either way, hope you’re doing well and I can’t get enough of your work!!!

I am always taking requests! And working on them. I actually had a plan to edit like six other requests I've written and instead I read your request this morning and well....the muses visit when then visit. So as with every single time I make a plan, I tossed everything I had wanted to write and edit today aside to write fourteen google doc pages to complete your request.

Oops! Hope you like it! =)

<3 Mandy

They say silence speaks volumes. 

As the third week of volleyball practice passed, I wondered if anyone in my family had gotten the message. 

Four weeks ago, desperate to try to independently earn my own money, I was inadvertently hired at one of my Uncle Valentino’s clubs. He found out, pulled me out, and I was grounded until further notice. As punishment for pretending to be at volleyball tryouts, they signed me up for eight weeks of the sport. Frustrated after the first practice, I spat out words I didn’t mean, and my family decided that it was time I learned exactly what a privileged life I led. 

It was eye opening and terrifying to see exactly what it was that my Uncle Valentino did. Although it was never outright discussed, from the morning I spent with him in his dingy hotel office, watching him process and contract souls both male and female, and the lineup I saw them go through afterwards, I came to the conclusion that sex work, drugs and Uncle Valentino went hand in hand. 

For the first time in my life, I saw the darker side of my family. The control my father, Vox had over the city in terms of technology and electricity. The hold my Aunt Velvette held over not only the fashion industry and social media- but on all goods imported and exported throughout the pride ring. And Uncle Valentino- every soul that passed through hell went through him first. In exchange for basic survival, he thrust souls into either his clubs, Velvette’s stage, or Vox’s office. He kept them hooked on the drugs he sold in exchange for their labor, for their bodies. 

After all, it took a thousand unpaid hands to run hell. 

The deeper I dug, the more afraid I became of the only people I knew as my family. I spent my study halls researching, reading blogs and articles about them. Known as the Vee’s, the three of them truly were the most powerful overlords in hell. They had their hands in and controlled everything that went on in the pride ring. Gone from my mind was the softness that I knew them for. In its place was this image of their true selves. 

Photos of Valentino with razor sharp teeth, a single one glinting gold, my father as electricity surrounded him and Velvette, surrounded by swirls of purple took the place of those memories. 

I began to dread going home, dread getting into the limo with Uncle Valentino after each practice. But there was no way out. No sneaking past him, or any of them. I was suddenly aware of just how many eyes I truly had on me every single moment of the day. It didn’t matter if my father did someday decide to inject a tracker into my skin. Not when he controlled every camera on every corner of the pride ring. 

I took to hustling from my last class of the day to the girls locker room to get ready. On the days I didn’t have practice, I found myself inadvertently taking his advice to get stronger by either working out in the school gym or swimming laps in the pool. My body was tired, but at least it gave me an excuse to be away from them. 

I took my sweet time getting dressed  and by the time the rest of the girls joined, we needed to be out on the gym floor. As always Valentino was perched up atop the bleachers, either talking on the phone or typing on his laptop. As soon as practice was done with, he met me at the locker room door to escort me out to the limo. 

“How was your day, bebita?” He would ask.

As if he actually cared. Besides, what did my day matter when he had thousands of other women's lives he was destroying? 

“Fine,” I would reply. 

Short one word responses. Answering questions as he asked, but giving no more than he demanded. I tried not to look at him, and instead kept my nose buried in whatever textbook I happened to have in my backpack that day. Three weeks. Three weeks of going through the same routine. 

Now, as I stood just around the corner from the dining room, I could hear them talking over breakfast.

“Vox, I’m worried about her,” Valentino said as he sipped his coffee. “She doesn’t speak. She goes to school, to practice or to the gym, comes home, eats dinner and goes to bed.”

“I mean, isn’t that sort of what we asked of her?” Velvette asked. “The whole point of this was to show her just how fortunate she is.”

“I’ve seen enough broken people in my life to know when something isn’t right,” Valentino retorted. “She’s quiet. She’s definitely losing weight. And she looks like she hasn’t had a good night's sleep since this whole thing began.” 

My father seemed unconcerned. “I’m sorry she had to learn the dark side of hell. I guess it’s a punch to the gut when you realize life isn’t all sunshine and butterflies. She had the privilege of living the first sixteen years of her life in blissful ignorance. Let her stew. Let her be mad. As for her body changes…” he shrugged. “She’s more active now. Hitting the gym. Playing volleyball. Losing weight is expected. She’s eating dinner with us, so I’m not worried. She’s just mad.”  

“I don’t think she’s mad, Vox,”  Valentino replied slowly. “I think she’s afraid. Of us.”

Velvette rolled her eyes. “Valentino, do you hear yourself? That’s ridiculous. She has no reason to fear us- we’re her family for christ sake we would never hurt her. She knows that.” 

“I’m just saying,” Valentino shrugged. “Maybe Vox should have a talk with her.” 

Vox sighed. “If it would make you feel better, send her up to my office when you two get home tonight, alright? We’ll have a little father daughter heart to heart.” 

Quietly, retreated to my bedroom. Discussion? No. I had read enough at this point to know that my father specialized in mind control. I didn’t want to be any part of any conversation that involved my father, or any of them for that matter. 

And worse? There was no way out of this cage they built. 

“Babydoll! Breakfast!” I heard my fathers voice call from down the hall. 

I could feel the bile rise up in the back of my throat. I swallowed it back and picked up my backpack. I had no desire to sit down and have breakfast with these…monsters. But he couldn’t know that I knew. 

“I’m not hungry,” I called back. “I’ll eat at school!” 

I heard his heavy footsteps fall as they made their way down my hallway. I shrugged my backpack over my shoulders and pushed my bedroom door open to where my father stood on the other side, arms crossed. 

Fear wrapped around my heart as my mind flashed back to the images of him I had seen. My father. A murderer. A control freak. 

“Hey, honey? Are you feeling okay? You look a little pale.” He said as he reached his hand out as if to touch my forehead. 

I jumped back and looked away. The article said to avoid his eyes, if at all possible. 

“Yeah, I- I’m fine. I’m just running late, I’ll see you later. Bye.”

I pushed past him and hurried out towards the elevator door. 

“Practice, after school!” He yelled behind me. “Uncle Val will pick you up.”

“Got it,” I said as I stepped into the elevator. 

The school day passed too quickly. Anxiety clenched my stomach with each passing hour, making concentrating or eating next to impossible. By the time I trudged my way to practice, my head ached and my ears were ringing. I tried to ignore it and sipped on my water as I jumped into the routine. Ten laps. Stretching. Mini games. 

Maybe it was from not eating. 

Maybe it was from dehydration or lack of sleep. 

Maybe it was the anxiety from the realization that the people I loved the most in this world were not good people. 

Whatever reason it may be, I jumped to spike a ball and when I landed, a loud snap echoed through the gym. Instantly, I was on my side as pain shot through my body. 

The game came to an immediate halt. Two of my teammates helped me over to the bleachers as the coach talked to me quietly and gingerly pulled off my sock and sneaker. Dark bruises wrapped like a handprint around my ankle. I could feel Valentino’s eyes on me. When I looked up, he stood behind the crowd, concern scrawled over his features. 

Or at least, what looked like concern. He was pretty good at faking it, after all. Just like he did in his office that day. With those girls. Around me, my teammates fawned. 

“I’m fine,” I said through gritted teeth.

“You’re not. Rosa, go grab her backpack,” the coach replied and waved towards one of my teammates. “You’re going to have to get this looked at,”  She turned to look at Valentino. “Do you want me to call an ambulance or…”

“We can take care of it privately,” he replied calmly as he slid his arm under mine. “Lean on me, Bebita…”

“No,” I said sharply.

He gave me a quizzical expression. 

“No..I, I just need my backpack. And maybe my teammates can help me. Uncle Val, can you just have the limo pull around the front?” I said quickly.

He eyed me but took the backpack from my teammates hands and walked ahead of us as two of the other girls slipped their arms under me. Together, we hobbled our way out the front door and Valentino waited as I carefully got into the limo.

“I’ll be okay, I promise,” I told them before Valentino got in. “I’ll text you tonight.”

The second the door closed, I scooted as far away from Valentino as I could. Now that I was out of everyone's sight, the pain radiated through my ankle at full force. 

“Put your leg up on the seat, let me take a look,” Valentino said gently. 

“No, keep your hands off me,” I snarled as I pressed further away from him. “I’m fine. Just give me an ice pack. I have the gym tomorrow and practice on Wednesday. I’m fine.” 

“Honey, that ankle looks broken,” he said softly. “This punishment isn’t…”

“You’ve made it very clear what you’re capable of, don’t fucking touch me,” I snapped. 

To my suprise, he pulled away. 

“At least put it up on the seat. Elevation, until we see the doctor,” he replied. “I’m calling your dad now.”

“Don’t bother, I’m fine.”

He didn’t answer. As soon as the limo stopped, he lifted up my backpack and offered his arm. 

“You can’t walk on that,” he said quietly. “Please let me help you.” 

“I’m fine,” I replied as I stepped out good foot first. 

Pain shot through me the second I tried to put weight on it and to my dismay, I felt Valentino’s arm under me. Without a choice, I leaned on him as we walked into the V tower. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said with a little more firmness. “We’re going upstairs to the nurses office and…”

“I’ll pass on going into your studio,” I snapped as the elevator door opened. “Just leave me alone.”

“Hey, what’s going on here?” My father asked as he stepped out of the elevator. “Val, why aren't you carrying her? If it's broken, she shouldn’t be walking on it.”

“She wouldn’t let me,” Valentino replied sharply. 

“Enough of this crap,” Vox hissed with a roll of his eyes. “Since when do you let your teenaged niece boss you around?” 

He walked to the other side of me and slid his arm under mine. 

“No, Dad. Don’t! Let me be, please!” I begged. 

“You’re hurt. Why are you acting like this? Why won’t you let us help you?” He demanded as he lifted me up into his arms. 

I closed my eyes tightly. I felt him move and heard the elevator door close. 

“Reader? What are you doing?” He asked. For the first time, I heard concern in his tone. “Why are your eyes shut like that?”

I didn’t answer. 

“I told you..” Valentino said softly with a sign. 

“I asked you a question,” Vox said as the elevator door pinged again. “Reader. Answer me. Your Uncle Val seems to think you’re afraid of him. Afraid of me. Is that true?”

I didn’t answer and instead kept my eyes tightly closed. The familiar scent of strawberries filled my nose, but instead of the usual comfort, all I could feel was fear. Each step he took brought me closer to where I was sure I would be drugged, sure I would be hypnotized, sure I would be forced into…

My thoughts were interrupted as I felt my father lay me down on one of the beds. I heard the curtain pull shut and footsteps walk away.  I opened my eyes ever so slightly. Sure enough, the familiar bright lights shone back at me. I was in the nurse's office in Valentino’s studio. 

And I was alone. 

I pushed myself upright and assessed myself. Every part of me ached and my ankle throbbed painfully. Tears welled up in my eyes, tears and I tried to bite them back. The sound of the curtain being pulled back and I shut my eyes tightly. 

“Would it make you feel better if you got a little honesty?” My Aunt Velvette’s voice floated across the room. “Don’t worry. Both your Dad and Uncle Valentino are talking to the doctor. It’s just us.”

“You guys are monsters, why should I trust any of you?” The words came out of my mouth before I could stop them. “You lied to me my entire life, you…”

“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” Velvette perched herself on the edge of the bed. “Sweetheart, we live in hell. The people who come through…”

“Don’t deserve to be sold as sex slaves,” I said angrily. “Or forced to work as models, or stuck under hypnosis by my Dad or…”

“Is that what you think we do? Where do you get your information from?” She asked with amusement. “Not for nothing, but there are a few things wrong with your theory.”

“Oh, so Uncle Valentino isn’t in the sex business? He doesn’t sell drugs? You don’t control the product distribution and my father doesn’t control every single bit of technology and electricity that exists in the pride ring?” I said as I pushed myself more upright. 

“No, those things are true. And what we do at its core is probably more wrong than right. But we’re not monsters. Valentino isn’t selling these women- his contract provides an out. A consent clause. I could choose to cut off production and supplies at any given point. But I don’t. And your father…well, your father wouldn’t use his powers on you unless the circumstances were extreme. And I do mean extreme,” Velvette said softly. “And none of us would intentionally hurt you.”

I felt my anger grow. “You decided that because I wanted to make my own money…”

“No,” she cut me off. “That wasn’t why you got in trouble to begin with. You got in trouble because you lied to us, took your tracker off and decided to go work in a sex club. And yes, we enrolled you in volleyball and yes, you made a snarky comment that scared the shit out of Valentino. I’m not saying how he and your father reacted was right, but I am telling you they love you dearly.” She leaned forward, “someday you too will be an overlord in hell. Someday you too will have the responsibility to these souls that we have. It’s not going to be perfect. And it’s not always going to be right- we live in hell, sweetheart. Handling the darkness is part of what we do.”

I was quiet as I considered her words. A few moments later, the doctor walked in, followed by Vox and Valentino. Velvette stood up and the doctor looked over my ankle. 

One x-ray later, a broken ankle was the diagnosis and an orthopedic specialist was on his way.

“Sweetheart, when was the last time you drank anything?” Vox asked as the nurse looked over my veins.

I stayed quiet as the nurse wiped the crook of my arm. Normally, Uncle Valentino would be the one to put an IV in. But now that I knew why he was so damn good at it, I didn’t want his hands anywhere near me. 

“I’m going to try to do this in one shot, but your veins are pretty small,” she told me. 

I winced as she stuck and restuck me. The third time she pulled the needle out, I burst into tears. 

“No more, I can do it without pain meds, I swear!” I sobbed. “Please, just stop.” 

Valentino handed me a tissue and gave the nurse a writhing look. 

“Leave it,” he growled. “You’re done. Either get someone competent or…”

“Uncle Val, stop. It isn’t her fault! I’m the idiot who didn’t drink all day!” I sobbed. “Just stop!” 

He reached forward as if to take my hand but seemed to think better of it. 

“Show me your arms, bebita. Please?” He asked quietly. 

Hesitantly, I showed him both my arms and he carefully studied the veins. 

“I can probably stick you, if will you let me?” He asked softly. “Please, conejito. You don’t want him to set it without some sort of relief. It isn’t good for your body to be under that much strain.” 

I closed my eyes. The pain was increasing with each passing moment. He was right- I couldn’t take much more of this. Ever so slightly, I nodded my consent. 

True to his word, a single pinch later and I could feel the cold saline seeping into my veins and the pain slowly eased up. Nausea washed over me and the bile from earlier crept back up my throat. I felt my father’s hands pull my hair back and Valentino shoved a bin onto my lap. I coughed as I emptied what little was in my stomach into the basin. 

“You’ve been pushing yourself too hard,” Vox said as he braided my hair back. “I knew you didn’t look good this morning.” 

“I just didn’t have time to eat today,” I whispered. “It’s fine, I’m fine.” 

Valentino visibly bristled. “You are very much not fine. You…” He let his voice trail off and instead brushed the hair out of my face. “I’ll get the nurse to give you something for the nausea. After that, if I get you saltines, will you eat them? Maybe drink some apple juice or ginger ale?”

I shook my head no. “I’d rather have an apple or fruit or something. And water.”

“Not on a sick tummy, crackers or dry cheerios,” Velvette interjected with a shake of her head. “You don’t do well with anything else.” 

Defeated, I closed my eyes as I listened to both their footsteps walk away. How was it that these three, that all I read about them, all that I knew…were tending to me so carefully? That the same man who sized demons up and down, sold drugs and made a deal for their soul would ever so carefully slip a needle into my arm? That my father, the overlord of technology, would hold my hair back as I got sick? I couldn’t wrap my head around it, around the stark difference between the demons I grew up with and what I saw in Valentino’s office. The demons who were in the hospital room with me now, and the ones I read about on the internet. 

“The nurse is coming by with zofran,” Valentino said as he pushed the curtain back. “It will help settle your tummy. Velvette went upstairs to grab you something to nibble on.” 

“I don’t get it,” I said softly. 

“What don’t you get?” Vox asked. 

I hesitated. At that moment, the nurse came in and Valentino plucked the vial from her hands. She set a cup of apple juice on the table and he shooed her away. 

“Just for the nausea,” he explained as he injected the line. As soon as it was in, he picked up the cup of juice and lifted the straw to my lips. “Sip, then talk to us. “We’ve always had an open discussion in this family. What’s bothering you so much?”

I took a sip of juice and swallowed. “You, and Dad and Auntie Velvette, what you do is just wrong,” I said finally. “You hurt people, you punish people, you…Dad, you use mind control to literally take over companies, Uncle Valentino you sell drugs and Auntie Velvette she…she literally ruins people’s lives on social media and decides when and where there will be supply shortages and it isn’t okay! And then you turn around and treat each other and me like…like this!” 

“Woah, woah woah,” Vox said softly. “Where did you learn all that?”

Valentino crossed his arms and gave Vox a ticked off look. “What did I tell you? She should have never gone with me. I told you, I fucking told you!”

“Damn it Valentino, calm down. She was bound to find out the truth sooner or later. Now it’s up to us to sort fact from fiction,” Velvette said as she pushed the curtain back. She pressed a bag of cheerios into my hand, “here. Nibble on these.” 

“I don’t want to,” I said as I rubbed my eyes. “I…”

“You need to get something in your tummy, otherwise you won’t feel better,” Vox said, “Just a little. And listen to what we have to say, okay? Can you agree to that?”

Without seeing any other option, I nodded and put a cheerio in my mouth. My father looked to Valentino and Velvette.

“We..shouldn’t have introduced you to our work lives that way. I shouldn’t have made you…I should have done things differently, I’m sorry.” Vox said quietly. “You didn’t need to see your Uncle Valentino in that role. I wish I could take it back.”

“You’re not going to hypnotize me, are you? Make me forget?” I asked fearfully. “Daddy, I…”

“No, no no…no. Absolutely not,” he replied quickly. “No. You're my daughter and I wouldn’t do that to you. Not now, not ever.”

“So it is true. You can do that. I mean, I always sort of knew what you three were. Sort of knew you were hot shot overlords, but I didn’t realize that…how bad you…” 

Vox held up his hand. “The things we do, we do them because that is our job. We do our best to balance the good and bad in hell. We’re not without compassion, but we have a job to do. A job that provides housing, food, clothing, basic necessities to both hellborn and fallen. There are downsides to things and maybe, maybe when you’re a little older you’ll have different ideas, ways to do things better. But for now, this is our job.” He swallowed. “My mistake was trying to teach you a lesson, and mixing the life we’ve built at home with the businesses we run each day. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I hate that I made you so afraid,” Valentino added quietly as he sat down on the bed next to me. “Princessa, you are my little girl. You always have been. I don’t want you to flinch away in fear. I’m sorry for what you saw. And I’m sorry I frightened you so, so badly. How can I show you I’m not…how can I show you you don’t need to fear me?” 

I swallowed. “Uncle Valentino, let me…I want to be more involved in this business. I want to learn the process myself, understand it for myself.” 

The three of them exchanged glances. Hesitantly, I saw my father nod. 

“Alright, fine. We…we can do that. But not just Uncle Valentino’s responsibilities. All of ours. And…” he sighed. “And I’m going to put you on the payroll. Checks deposited into a private account with just your name on it. That’s what started this entire thing anyway, isn’t it?” 

“Dad, why do you look so upset? Shouldn’t you be thrilled that…”

“Thrilled?” Emotions rushed across Vox’s face, a mix of pain and sadness.  “You think I’m happy knowing we made you so afraid, so terrified of us? I worked so hard- we worked so hard so that you could have a normal childhood- a life without care, without worry. I wanted you to not have to go through the struggles we went through when we were sixteen, I wanted you to enjoy…I wanted you to enjoy being sixteen.” 

For the first time in my life, I saw my father looked defeated. 

“You know, she doesn’t have to give up being sixteen,” Velvette said as she put her hand on Vox’s shoulder. “We can start to introduce her to the family business and let her enjoy school and let her do all the stuff we didn’t get the chance to do.”

“She’s still your ninita, and you’re still her Papito,” Valentino added. “Besides, we’ve always had an open door policy.” 

“Daddy, what was your childhood like? Auntie Vel, Uncle Val I…”

At that moment the next doctor walked into the room. I groaned inwardly as he introduced himself to the adults in the room. 

“You’re a lucky girl,” he told me as he hung my x-rays. “You missed requiring surgery, but setting it will be painful. I’m going to have the nurse give you a dose of something extra strong so you don’t feel anything.” 

“Just, just give the vials to my Uncle Valentino, he can do it,” I said hesitantly. 

“You sure, bebita?” Valentino asked as the nurse brought over the supplies. 

I nodded and watched him wash his hands and pull on gloves for the second time that day. “What..will you tell me what you’re giving me?”

I saw his expression soften. 

“Of course, bebita,this first one is for pain,” he said soothingly as he uncapped the vial and slowly pushed down on the plunger. “Now before I give you the next, tell your Dad what color you want your cast. You can have any two colors you choose.”

“Purple and red?” I asked hopefully as I looked at him.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” Vox assured me. He sat down on the bed next to me, took my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I love you.”

“I love you too Daddy.”

“This next one is going to make you not care about what the doctor is doing or anything else that happens for the next few hours,” Valentino continued. “Once this is in your bloodstream, you’re going to feel a little sleepy. Just relax, when the doctor is done we’ll bring you upstairs to your own bed, okay?” 

Velvette perched herself on the bed next to my father and patted my uninjured leg. “Don’t worry sweetheart, once we get you all patched up we’ll make a plan. No more secrets, okay?”

I nodded and let the drug Valentino pushed into my body start to work. True to his word, I wasn’t exactly sleeping, but I certainly didn’t care too much about what the doctor was doing. The next thing I knew, I was snuggled into my own bed with my father sitting next to me. 

“Sleep, babygirl,” he said softly. “We’ll talk more in the morning. I promise.”

I felt my eyelids grow heavy. Maybe I could trust them after all. 

[smiley-mcdoggington]

Part 2 to this kinda because it kinda left with an implied ending but this one is a good ending ANYWAYS TW SUICIDAL TW STANCEST--

"You deserve a reward, Fordsy." Bill crooned while he moved his pawn forward - Albin Countergambit, damn. The sting of being out-maneuvered didn't gloss over Bill's words, though.

"A reward? I couldn't possibly request a reward when you've done so much for me, my Muse." He said, though the words were empty. His posture had straightened politely and he waited for Bill to argue.

"No, you deserve it." Bill argued, and a curl of satisfaction warmed him. "You solved that equation so quickly, sped up construction on the portal by weeks on your planetary measure. Your mind is doing wonders with me here, I love to see it." His voice dipped a little. "Watching all those neurons firing, you're a piece of art, Sixer." He purred.

Ford blushed. Bill knew what that nickname did to him. "Thank you, my Muse... " He said, hot under the collar and voice maybe a pitch lower than before.

"Don't you wanna hear your reward, Sixer? I hope you don't think I'd cheap out by only giving you well-deserved praise." His heavy eyelashes cut into his pupils. He knew what he was doing.

Ford cleared his throat. "Of course not, my Muse, I wo-would never think of you as cheap." He cursed the slip and quickly tried to refocus on their game - his king was open. Ford moved his knight. "Check." He could imagine what rewards his Muse would have for him - turning every nerve in his body into an erogenous zone, using that sinfully large tongue, going until Ford cried from it--

"All good ideas, Fordsy." Bill knocked over his king with a flick of his fingers, before melting all the pieces into a puddle on the table. "But I've done something different. You know your phone problem?"

Ford's fingers itched for his journal and in the dreamscape a journal appeared. "The ghost haunting my phone? You've found it?"

"No, not a ghost yet, give him a minute." He joked - probably joked. "Really, Braniac, sometimes of all the answers it really is the simplest one. The silent phonecalls weren't any weirdness, they were just your inferior copy."

"Stanley?" Ford blurted. "Why would he be..." Ford had been getting those silent phonecalls since college at least, why would he never say anything? Why would he always call? He felt a flicker of annoyance that it wasn't even an anomaly.

"I know, I know that little mystery had been distracting you, so I even dealt with it for you. No more late-night phonecalls dragging you away, you can even rip the page about them from your journal."

Unease sank into Ford's mind. What had Bill said to make Stanley stop calling? He can't have simply asked, Stan was far too stubborn. Had he threatened Stan?

Had he used Ford's voice?

Dread simmered like nausea. "How, might I ask, did you convince him to him to leave me be?"

"No way but with the truth - Scout's honor. Aren't you happy, Sixer?" Suddenly Stan's old name for him sounded wrong coming from Bill. "I took care of him, he couldn't bother you again if he wanted to. You deserved it, for being so good." His praises sounded like the ones you'd give a child. Ford's stomach twisted.

"Would you show me, Bill?" He asked tightly.

Bill sighed and snapped his fingers. The puddle on the table between them turned clear.

Stanley was sitting in a car on the other side. A gun in his hand shaking minutely. The safety was off, but the gun wasn't turned outward against a threat.

He clicked the chamber out of place and span it before clicking it back into place.

He lifted it until the nozzle buried into his overgrown hair. Ford screamed when his finger flexed - one-in-six odds, 16.666...% chance he never saw his brother again because Bill used his voice to say something so terrible it made him - made him--

The gun clicked uselessly and Ford sobbed. Then Stan drew back the hammer again. One-in-five, 20%, the mindscape around him trembled in his panic, and then his view was taken, back to the puddle of black and white that remained of their game of chess.

"Take it easy, Sixer, you're starting to make me think you're ungrateful."

Ford's eyes snapped to Bill to the - the monster.

He needed to get out. His mind, once a vast expance, folded and curled inwards, stars burning out, glass shattering, the longer he stayed here with Bill the more time passed between hammer pulls, his brain counted up percentages for the chance that Stan was dead and Bill had the gall to call Ford ungrateful? Had the audacity to use Stan's name for him when he'd--

"I don't know what you're trying to pull here, Sixer, but your brother's gone. What's the difference if he's dead or not?"

Ford lunged over the table at him while the sky imploded.

The next second he was snapping awake - on the floor, a fork in his hand just within reach of his old rotary phone. He scrambled to his feet, hand on the receiver and bloody, shaking hand dragging the dial, trying to will the damn thing to roll back faster as he slowly dragged out '*69'.

The phone rang.

And rang.

"Come on Stanley - come on - you've gotta be close to a phone." His voice warbled into the large, empty house. "Come on, Stanley." He pleaded. And then, the ringing cut.

"Stanley?!"

The line was quiet - not dead, but quiet.

"Please - Stanley just say something." He sobbed.

"What the fuck do you want from me, Stanford?" His voice was rougher than he remembered, haggard and worn in a way Ford had never imagined it.

He could have said a million things, words clammered for first in his throat but all he could blurt was "Come home, damn it!"

The line was silent long after he'd spoken, his mind scrambling for anything to say - Stanley was always the one that knew what to say while he scrambled to speak at all. Then Stanley spoke again. "First you tell me I'm not worth the time it takes to hang up, now you're acting like I'm a damn teenage runaway - we're more than halfway to thirty, Stanford, if you're done jerking me around I've got things to get back to--"

"It wasn't me! I didn't say any of the things that previous call was - it was - well, it was an entity that can mimick my voice."

"Yeah? And I bet you're so fucking eager to share the details of how you fucked your brother a decade ago."

"I never--"

"So you never told anyone but the thing that isn't you but has your voice was just also there in our bedroom when we were kids, is that right? And they called me the liar."

"He can read my memories, Stanley, it's not that simple." Agitation seeped in to replace the cold fear. Bill may have been... Encouraged... By Ford to look into that certain childhood experimentation, which was now coming back to haunt him. "Just - just don't go back in the car. Please."

"... What?" Stanley sounded scared, for a second. "You can see me? How can you see me - wh--" his voice left the receiver, too far away.

"Stanley!" Ford called, and the voice came back.

"What kinda voodoo shit are you pulling, there ain't a camera for miles." He demanded more than asked.

"It's - the entity. He showed me you in the car - he - Stanley why the hell do you have a revolver?" The question took the energy out of Ford. He felt like the world under him was fake. His hand throbbed, still with a fork in it.

"Doesn't matter, you weren't bullshitting me?"

"No, Stanley, I wasn't lying. I promise I can explain everything in-depth once I get there." He said firmly.

"Get here? You ain't coming down here, bub."

Ford sighed. "Do you always have to be so stubborn? Just tell me where you are."

"Florida."

"I'll pay for the plane."

"Not happening."

"Stanley! You scared the shit out of me, there's a fork in my hand, and if I don't see your stupid face in the next few hours I'm going to pull my hair out, would you work with me here?"

"... Our stupid face. "

Ford snorted. "Yes, precisely. What if I take a plane down and we drive up to Oregon together? Road trip like we did that summer of 61'?"

"Waste of money."

"Not if it's you."

The line went quiet.

"... Stanley..?"

"Fuck, fine, whatever, we're grown men no need to get sappy - shit. Fine" He said with a small warble in his voice.

Ford smiled. "I can't wait."

[f1daydreamers]

𝐟𝟏𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬' 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

WELCOME to my page, I actually created this Tumblr account 3 years ago and never used it, I recently found it but rather than deleting it, I figured I’d ‘recycle’ it and just use it as a page dedicated to fanfics.

REQUESTS are open and you may submit your own asks but read below to see what I write, don’t write and also what I do not tolerate on my page. I only write for a specific set of people, again, read below to see who they are. Suspense lol.

…

Rules for Requests

My content will NOT cover topics such as smut, sexual assault, incest, violence, abuse, disabilities, or self-harm. I also avoid including any suggestive references to blood or weapon fetishes in my work.

I ALSO don’t write driver x driver or footballer x footballer, and not many works, if any at all, will take a male readers’ perspective.

…

The drivers I write for currently are: Max Verstappen, Lewis Hamilton, Oscar Piastri, Mick Schumacher, Charles Leclerc, and Alex Albon.

The footballers I write for currently are: Trent Alexander-Arnold, Jude Bellingham, and Declan Rice. (Such a variety ik)

…

𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚 𝟏

Charles Leclerc:

- A Dulcet Evening ~ You and Charles have a few weeks to yourselves before Baku, it’s Friday and you go to pull him off of the simulator when you instead see him playing the piano.

Lance Stroll:

- A Weekend or Two: Completed

Summary: Asking the driver of the team you work for to attend a wedding with you as your fake date is possibly one of the dumbest ideas you've had ever.. but also one of the best.

• Part 1

• Part 2

• Part 3

• Part 4

• Part 5

• Part 6

• Part 7

• Part 8

Oscar Piastri:

- My Muse ~ Oscar is a visitor at your first art exhibition - not exactly his scene - but it’s one that he contributed to financially to help you out, an upcoming artist he’s taken a bit of a liking to.

Max Verstappen:

- Rain Now Run ~ Being caught in the rain without an umbrella isn’t fun, but when you’re with Max? Fuck it.

- Expanding Our Horizons ~ Seeing your boyfriend play with his nephews stirs emotions inside of you. While it may be the first time you and Max have acknowledged it, it may also be the last.

…

𝐅𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥

Trent Alexander-Arnold:

- Little White Lies SMAU ~ You’re a tease, asking for things you supposedly already have. Trent catches on... eventually.

- Breaking Barriers: Ongoing

Summary: Arne, in hopes to focus on his team’s mental health as much as their physical, recruits a younger but just as educated psychologist to work one-to-one with the more reserved players. Trent is one of them.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Jude Bellingham:

~ Coming soon!

[musical-shit-show]

isn't it delicate?

Pairing: Musical!Beetlejuice x Reader

Inspiration: Prompts #1 (“did…did you just kiss me?”) and #2 (“i didn’t mean to say that but yeah, i love you.”) from Prompt List 2, requested by @animetattoochick

Warnings: cursing, sexual innuendo, fluff

Word Count: 2,701

Author’s Note: Thank you for your patience on this one! I really haven’t been feeling very inspired lately, but I’m so glad I was able to finish this request. I have one more in my inbox currently but after that I think I may be able to get a couple other one shots out before the end of the year. I always love this time of year and I tend to feel more inspired around the holidays, so hopefully I’ll have the time to write more! As always check out my Masterlist, About Me page, or Prompt Lists if you’d like to submit an ask! Happy reading :)

“So…any men in your life I should know about while you’re up there?”

“Mom! That’s…no. Not…really, no.”

“Well, alright. That wasn’t very convincing, but I’ll take it,” your mother mused over the phone, only slightly teasing, “Just, tell me: are those people being good hosts? What were their names again—?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. Your mom was always the forgetful type, “Charles and Delia. And their daughter, Lydia. She’s about sixteen, I think? Cute kid.”

You didn’t feel like you should mention the fact that your new teenage counterpart only wore black and was incredibly morbid, or that two ghosts occupied the attic, or that you were frequently plagued by a literal demon.

If you told your mom any of that, odds were that she’d drop dead from shock.

Ever since you started renting out the Deetz’ third bedroom in their Connecticut home, you tried to keep the details to a minimum when talking to your family. All they knew was that you had moved hundreds of miles away for your dream job, which was true; what they didn’t need to know what that you practically lived in a haunted house.

For the first few weeks you lived there, everything was relatively normal. Delia and Charles were in the city most days, and when you got home from work, Lydia was usually at the kitchen table doing her homework or in the attic. One day, you were headed to your room when you heard concerned whispers coming from the other side of the attic door.

“I just don’t know if now is the right time to tell her, you know?” you heard an older male’s voice say, his tone clearly distressed. You couldn’t help but wonder who Lydia was talking to given that Charles had been gone for a few days.

“Adam, it’s been weeks!” Lydia shot back, “Besides, I’m worried if we wait too long, you know who might show up and scare her away. You know how he gets.”

“She does have a point, hon,” this time, a sweeter woman’s voice spoke, “Besides, I think she’ll take it well. She gets along with Lydia just fine, doesn’t she?”

“Of course! If I just explain—”

“Okay, okay,” the voice now identified as Adam cut in, “I was getting a little sick of hiding up in the attic again.”

You heard the old door creaking open and bolted to your room, shutting your own door as quietly as you could. You stood at the foot of your bed, utterly confused.

Who were those people?

When did they manage to sneak into the attic?

And why the fuck was Lydia keeping some huge secret from you?

You thought you had a good rapport with her, given that you were several years her senior and were getting along with her alright. You maybe even could see yourself taking on an older sibling role, especially since she didn’t have any of her own and few friends at school.

Plus, you could tell she had a hard time opening up. As your mind slowed, you realized she would only come to you when she was ready. Whatever weird shit was going on would become your business when she finally told you.

It didn’t take long after your adventure in snooping.

A few days later, you heard a soft knock on your door and Lydia’s small frame peaked through the door. “Come on in,” you smiled, closing your laptop, “I was just checking out dinner options, how does pizza sound?”

“Oh, um, yeah,” she replied, uncharacteristically timid, “Pizza sounds great.” An awkward silence filled the air as she sat down on the edge of the bed, the buckles on her black chunky boots jangling slightly, “So…I have to tell you something.”

“I figured.”

“It’s just…I don’t want to freak you out or anything,” she began gingerly, “I haven’t told anyone about this, but since I like you and you’re living here, I thought it’s only fair—”

She was very sweet for beating around the bush, but you couldn’t keep it in anymore, “Is this about your two friends you’ve been sneaking in? Because honestly, Lydia, it’s completely fine if you have people over, you’re not bothering me—”

“What, no, I—” Lydia stared at your incredulously, “How did you—?”

“I heard you all talking the other day,” you confessed, finding her teenage antics a little endearing, “You aren’t exactly the quietest bunch, but like I said, I don’t mind.”

Lydia shook her head, not wanting anything about her situation to be misconstrued, “No, you don’t understand. Adam and Barbara, they aren’t friends from school or anything like that. They live here.”

You blink stupidly.

“Or, I guess lived here.”

You grew even more confused.

“I’m not sure I understand,” you said, a small laugh escaping your lips.

“They’re dead,” Lydia finally stated, unsure how to make herself any clearer, “Ghosts. They died here before me, my dad and Delia moved in. And…since you’ve been here, they’ve been staying in the attic.”

You laughed involuntarily. You couldn’t help it.

Surely this teenager was fucking with you.

But as silence once again permeated the room, Lydia stared at you earnestly, not breaking into a mischievous smile or shouting a good “gotcha!”.

“Oh,” you muttered, “Oh, you’re serious.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Cool. Ghosts are real. I can handle that.”

“Yeah, you seem really calm right now. It’s kinda freaking me out.”

“I’m good,” you reassured her. Or maybe you were just reassuring yourself? “I am. Just…processing.”

The existence of ghosts didn’t surprise you that much, but you were obviously way off when it came to Lydia’s secret. In your defense, you were busy with the move and your job and everything else, how could you notice anything strange going on?

“There’s something else too,” Lydia said quietly, swinging her chunky black boots off the bed and landing on the floor with a thud, “Or, I guess, someone. His name is, well, I usually call him Beej. He’s like a super chaotic ghost or demon, I’m not really sure. It’s a long story…”

She shifted on the bed again. “Anyways, I met him pretty quickly after we moved here, and, well, he’s kind of…a lot. And he left for a bit, but he and I are actually friends. Real friends, not like before. Like I said, long story, but I just wanted to tell you in case he shows up here and—”

Before Lydia could finish, a flash of green light illuminated the room, and the figure that appeared before you was the strangest man you had ever seen.

He donned a hideous black and white striped suit that appeared to be falling apart at the seams, and his hair was a violent shade of green that actually made you wince. His skin was sickly pale, and the tattered overcoat he wore to round out the ensemble shed dust and dirt particles with every movement.

“Lyds!” he shouted, his voice grating and coarse, “My ears were burning; were you talking about me, oh best friend of mine?” He tousled the teen’s hair, much to her dismay. Before Lydia could answer, he turned his attention to you.

Eyeing you up and down, the man cocked his head to this side. You felt a light tingle on the back of your neck; why did you suddenly feel like you were being hunted?

“And who do we have here?” he purred, a Cheshire cat smile spreading across his face, “Babysitter?”

“I’m sixteen, asshole. I don’t need a babysitter,” Lydia chimed.

You told him your name, and considered extending your hand in formality. That idea quickly disintegrated when you saw how grimy his hands looked, fingers black at their tips in a clear indication of decay.

“I, uh, live in the guest bedroom,” you choked out, “And your name is…?”

“Wish I could tell, ya, babe,” he said with a chuckle, running his tongue across his slightly jagged teeth, “I like to say I’m the ghost with the most, but you can call me whatever you like—”

Lydia was quick to cut him off from the incessant attempts at flirting, and you learned his real name was Beetlejuice. He winced at the sound, and the more he and the younger girl told you about their escapades, the more enthralled you became.

Before you could fully process all the insane information the duo was throwing at you, Beetlejuice left, citing a bio-exorcism that needed attending to. You made a mental note to have Lydia explain that in greater detail later. With a *pop* and a puff of green smoke, he was gone.

But not for long.

Over the next few months, Beetlejuice’s visits became more and more frequent, much to the dismay of everyone else in the house, living and dead.

Except for you.

You found him utterly fascinating, despite his shocking outward appearance and often lascivious gaze. Yes, he was a dead guy, but he always made an effort to ask you about your life, even if it was followed up by a crude joke or bad pick-up line. When he wasn’t tormenting the other inhabitants of the Deetz residence, he was almost…sweet to you.

Of course, his sweetness was usually undercut with his sleazy tendencies; Though you knew he liked getting a rise out of you and you would often bicker with him on purpose. Even as you performed mundane tasks, you could tell he was leering at you, studying your every move.

You thought you were alone while on the phone with your mother, but Beetlejuice had become sneakier; this time he was listening outside your room, floating inches above the floor so his shadow couldn’t be seen under the doorframe.

“Anyways, no, there’s, uh, no guy,” you said sheepishly, your tone coming out more bitter than you intended. “You know I’d tell you, Ma.”

“I know, honey,” she said, her voice comforting you, “Just, try to make some friends, okay? We miss you and I don’t want you to be lonely.”

For some reason this made tears well up in your eyes. “I miss you too,” you choked, masking your sob with a cough, “And uh, I’ll try, don’t worry. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” There was a pause on the other end. Your mom knew you were crying, which made you want to cry even more.

“Okay,” she said, not wanting to upset you further. She knew you too well, “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Your phone beeped and then returned to your home screen, and you let out a heavy sigh. A few tears dropped onto your jeans, the salt stinging your eyes.

“Who made you cry?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin as Beetlejuice materialized next to you, a few strands of his hair sprouting red at the roots. You shook your head in dispute.

“No, it was just my mom—”

“Oh, typical mothers. They really are the worst sometimes. Y’know, did I ever tell you how my mom—”

“Beej!” you cut him off before he went on another one of his rants, “I know. I’m sure you’ve told me. But no, she didn’t make me cry.” You wiped a stray tear away from your face and sniffled, feeling pathetic. “I guess I’m just a bit homesick.”

His hair instantly reverted back to its original state of vibrant green as he sat down on the bed next to you. “Oh…right,” he said, twiddling his thumbs, “You breathers can get so…sensitive sometimes, huh?”

You laughed dryly. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” It didn’t take long at all for you to see that Beetlejuice was a big softy, even though he liked to tease and scare you on an almost daily basis.

You didn’t mind, not even a little bit. Because against your better judgement, you found yourself developing feelings for him. Weirdly strong feelings. And you weren’t sure what that meant with him, well, being dead and all.

That fact didn’t seem to matter when he took your hand in his, your warm palm contrasting with his almost frigid skin. You felt yourself shiver, and you weren’t sure if it was from the sudden temperature change or the physical contact.

“I’m uh, not really good with this shit,” he said indelicately, “But I like having you around. Usually, I spend all my time either in the Netherworld or scaring the life outta breathers but…I didn’t want to come back to this house that much until you showed up. So…thanks for that.”   

He ran his thumb across the back of your hand, the gesture making your insides churn.

“Plus, if you were gone, I’d lose my eye candy,” he added, making you instantly blush and let out a laugh, “Adam’s hot and all, but you might just have him beat—"

You couldn’t help it. You kissed him. Your eyes were still red from residual tears, and he was a demon, and you tasted the faintest earthy flavor on your lips, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about any of those facts.

It was a fairly chaste kiss, only lasting a few moments before you pulled away. Instantly Beetlejuice’s hair started sprouting a light pink color.

“Did…did you just kiss me?” he asked in disbelief. He was usually the one doing the kissing, or groping, or endless propositioning.

A sheepish laugh escaped your throat, your palms instantly moistening with nervous sweat. “Uh, yeah?” you croaked, “Is that alright?” Beetlejuice looked utterly dumbfounded.

“Alright?” he laughed. If he were still alive, his heart would’ve fluttered. “Babe, more than alright, I loved it! Shit, I’ve loved every second you’ve been in this boring ass house…because I love you.”

The realization came to the demon as soon as the words left his lips. He didn’t even register what he had said until you muttered, “you love me?”

Fuck.

‘Well,’ the demon thought, ‘no going back now’. He couldn’t detect whether you were pleased or creeped out by the sudden escalation, but decided to trudge forward through the emotionally honest deep end he had unwittingly dove into.

“Erm…” now it was his turn to be sheepish, “I didn’t mean to say that but yeah, I love you. Sorry to one up you, babe, but if you wanna go back to making out, you won’t get any complaints outta me.”

Even as he cracked jokes, he could feel his anxiety rising to his hair, which was slowly turning a sickly shade of yellow that mixed with the pink strands. He held his nonexistent breath as a wide grin spread across your face.

“Oh Beej, I love you too,” you said, finally able to put words to the ache you’ve felt for him for weeks, “Even though you’re a complete perv who shouldn’t have been spying on me in the first place.”

He scoffed at the accusation. “Look babe, let’s not forget who kissed who first,” he reminded, tracing his fingers along your arm. His hair was now a vibrant pink. “Though I wouldn’t mind going in for round two—”

“Round two of what, exactly?!” Lydia burst through the door, causing the two of you to jump away from each other on the bed. “Or do I even want to know.” The young girl looked disgusted at the thought.

“Jesus Christ, Lyds, ever heard of knockin’?!” Beetlejuice admonished. It was so big brother of him it almost made you burst out laughing.

“Yeah, I wonder where she got the spying from,” you deadpanned, your gaze flickered between the both of them before landing on Lydia, “We’ll meet you downstairs in a minute to talk, alright?”

She crossed her arms across her chest before stomping down the steps, yelling out a “No funny business!” for good measure, utterly embarrassing you and tickling Beetlejuice all at once.

You made a mental note to banish him the next time you talk to your mom; the fact that you were now dating a literal dead guy would not be a topic of discussion on the next phone call, and you didn’t need Beetlejuice butting in to introduce himself as her future son-in-law.

----

thanks for reading! please like/comment/reblog if you enjoyed! :)

[thecursedanon]

Masterlist + Requests

(Last updated: 10:45pm - 6/23/24)

Heeeeeellloooo everyone! Curse here, I thought I'd make a masterlist for my fics so they would be easier to find seeing how I plan to make many more fics In the future :3

ALSO! I have an AO3 account if it's easier to read my writing on there. I'm TheCursedAnon on ao3 as well :3

LETS JUST JUMP RIGHT INTO IT--

~REQUESTS ARE NOW OPEN! :3~

I'm operating with 2 fic request slots for now so I can get a feel for them, I can't guarantee they'll be super long because as I've stated previously my muse is a fickle bitch. I'm also not sure how fast I'll be able to get them out because I'm working on my own original non t-word series right now, but I'll do my best! <3

My HC requests are also OPEN, there's no limit on hc's, request as many as you want. :3 also feel free to send me your hc ideas! I love reading them! <3

Guidelines for requests:

I don't write NSFW. I've got nothing against it, It's just not for me lmao.

I don't write other people's OC's. Listen... Y'all, I love OC's, I'll be the first to admit I have a whole like 20 page google doc of OC's from various different fandoms-- but something I've learned over the years is It's really hard to write someone else's OC well, with official characters there's enough content for me to consume to get a feel for them... OC's not so much. :( I'm sorry.

Also, as I'm consuming JJK content, I'm forming a mental list of characters I will not write for... So far there's only a few on the list;

Meimei - I feel like most people will get where I'm coming from with this one. I don't mind writing a few lines of dialogue for her If it's necessary to the plot, but I'm certainly not comfortable making her a lee! or ler!

Toji - Sorry. I actually can't stand this deadbeat father LOL.

Mahito - Seriously, screw this ahole for what he did in Shibuya, I like his design but that's literally IT 😭

I debated putting Kenjaku on the list... but I feel like there are certain scenarios I could make work with him... but just know I don't like him, and he's SORTA on my list lol... depends on the prompt Ig.

Request slot 1: Lee!Yuji, Lers!Nanami, Gojo, Yuta, Choso, Megumi & Todo. (Whoooo boy, Yuji gonna have a busy day XD)

Request slot 2: Empty

~Upcoming Fics~

Lee!Nanami + Ler!Haibara fic - (TW: Mentions of Abuse) Haibara is concerned about Nanami, he's acting really out of character and now he's isolating himself... Haibara makes it his mission to get to the bottom of what's bothering his best friend. (85%)

Lee!Yuji + Lers!Nanami, Gojo, Yuta, Choso, Megumi, Nobara & Todo ~RQ~ - It's Yuji's birthday, what better way to celebrate than by getting the snot tickled out of him by his friends? (Not started)

Amusement park shenanigans pt 3 - Gojo is now raining down hell on EVERYONE. Everyone be catching these wiggling fingers now. (Not started)

Name TBD - The beginning of an AU... :) (2%)

(I'm just now realizing how much comfort I write... LOL)

~Fanfic Masterlist~

1. Amusement Park Shenanigans (Lee!Nanami, Switch!Yuji, Ler!Gojo) - Summary: Gojo decides to take the students to the amusement park, and drags a very unwilling Nanami along with them... after trying to failing to convince Gojo to let him leave, and one too many grumpy remarks from Nanami, Gojo decides to do what Gojo does best... cause absolute chaos. Upload Date: 3/12/24

2. Amusement Park Aftermath (Lee!Gojo, Ler!Nanami, Ler!Megumi) - Summary: Did Gojo seriously think Nanami wasn't gonna get revenge for that little stunt he pulled the other day? Upload Date: 4/5/24

3. Rainy Day (Lee!Yuji, Ler!Nanami) - Summary: Yuji Is super down today, that and he's not been sleeping well due to the nightmares he's been having. His friends, concerned about him go to Nanami with their concerns, and the stoic teacher takes it upon himself to cheer Itadori up. Upload Date: 4/11/24. 🔮NEW🔮

[icarianlibrary]

Introduction !!

Name: Pierce

Pronouns: He/Him

Gender: Trans Guy

Sexuality: On the AroAce spectrum & Achillean !!

Religion: LDS (Mormon)

Likes: Writing, Musicals, Art, Music, Reading, Ancient Rome/Greece, any book by Rick Riordan, EPIC the musical, TLT the musical, Hadestown, collecting random soda tabs, Indie pop/rock, Student Council, Speech and Debate, JVQ

Dislikes: Bugs & T.R.A.S.H (Transphobic, racist, ableist, sexist, homophobic)

What I do: I write, draw, and act !!

Art trades: Open

Fic Requests: Closed

Writing/Fic requests: Sure, but only if I'm in the fandom (IF it is a fanfic, an OG story is fine too!!) & the fic request is completely appropriate

Rules for my Art Trades/Fic Requests:

No sexual content requests

Blood is okay

For art trades, please send an example of your work before hand

I will draw non-humans

I won't draw kissing

I won't draw pro-shipping

For fics, I wont write more than 25 pages (I'm working on my own projects)

Fandoms I'm actively in: Percy Jackson/Riordanverse, EPIC: the musical, Hades (The Game), Harry Potter, Sherlock Holmes, Craig of the Creek, Musicals (Hamilton, Lightning Thief, Hadestown, EPIC, etc), Dead Boy Detectives, Greek Mythology in general, AGGGTM, The Naturals, The Inheritance Games, Sleepy Hollow (2013), The Song of Achilles.

Other: I have POTS, EDS, Aphantasia, Speech Impaired, & AuDHD! I'm writing a musical abt the myth of Icarus (CAN NEVER have too many Greek Mythology inspired musicals in your life ygs </3), I am a published award winning author for an essay I wrote about teen stuttering, and I've been drawing since I was a kid, animating for 4-5 years ish !!

Books I'm writing:

Bloom of the Sun - The god of light, Apollo falls in love with a Spartan prince. Hyacinthus, a beautiful boy, and with an even more beautiful heart. He was the only thing on Apollo's mind, but Apollo's thoughts weren't the only minds Hyacinthus dwelled in. Thamyris and Zephyrus, one mortal, and one god fall in love with the young boy, offending Apollo in doing so. Thamyris boasts about his musical talent and claims to be the best musician in all the land, but when the god of music hears of his lie, one of his muses challenges his musical ability, in which Thamyris faces a fatal loss. Meanwhile, Zephyrus admires Hyacinthus from afar but never acts upon his feelings, unlike the outgoing Apollo who spends every waking hour with Hyacinthus. Apollo spends his time telling tales to Hyacinthus, making music and playing games. Apollo has never loved someone so much. Hyacinthus was the boy Apollo loved. Loved.

6 traumatized teens discover homophobia (Title is a WIP 💀) - Abt these 6 teenagers that are part of an experiment finally realizing they're apart of an experiment

Loving a Dead Boy - A revolutionary pill is created, in which most the population takes. Suddenly murderers have been popping up more than usual. The connection of that pill and the murders have became more prominent by the day. Jax took the pill and falls in love with the boy he is supposed to murder.

The Silent Strokes of Aldric Boyd - People who commit suicide don't go to heaven or hell. They go to 'white space'. A place between the 2 realms where you roam till you're ready for a 2nd chance of life, but even then you have a time limit of how long you can stay. An artist is re-living his life cut short.

Fly me to the sun - A musical based off of the myth of Icarus !! Exploring the difficult relationships between a son and his father, and the childlike wonder of thinking you are above the world.

[nocasdatsgay]

Ch. 1 of From the Shadows the Beast will Rise

Masterlist here/ Prequel “Chokehold” Here

Summary: Eris gets a visit from Azriel months later and is summoned to the Night Court.

Rated: M

Warnings (I forgot 😅): sexual themes, Azriel’s past trauma, discussion of mor’s trauma,

AO3 Link Here | Chapter 2

**Also read below**

It had been months since their last encounter, but Eris knew Azriel was watching him. He could smell hints of evergreen from the shadows in the far corner of his room in the Forest House. They had followed him around all evening, except during dinner when they had the right mind to make themselves scarce around his father. Eris reasoned it was probably due to his lack of responses to the letters in his study. 

It was only when the smell got stronger he knew Azriel physically arrived. Anger flared for just a moment within. Azriel knew better than anyone the sensitivity of the wards on the house. However, Eris wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead he schooled his features and looked down at the book he was reading and flipped the page. 

“Are you going to hide in the corner all night?” He asked loudly, not bothering to read the text in front of him. When no answer came he sighed, annoyed. “I can smell you, idiot.”

Eris looked up to see Azriel step out of the shadows. He smirked at the displeasure etched into his features. Spymaster wasn’t used to being caught. Eris folded his page and closed the book, setting it to the side table. He let his gaze run quickly over the male in front of him. 

“You have a lot of nerve coming into this house uninvited,” Eris folded his hands together in his lap and lifted his chin. “Just because I let your shadows linger doesn’t mean you’re welcome to enter.” 

Shadows whirled around Azriel, more pronounced in the light casted from the fireplace. If Eris didn’t know any better, they seemed agitated as well. Azriel didn’t move, save for his wings twitching. 

He glared at Eris. “Rhys wants to know why you’ve ignored his summons.”

Eris scowled. “Rhys overestimates his importance. He also underestimates mine. I’m not his citizen to be summoned. Maybe he should start asking politely; requesting instead of demanding.” Eris slumped back in his seat and grinned. “He’s so used to ordering you around like a dog, he forgets what it’s like to actually communicate with someone of decent intelligence.”

Azriel stepped forward. Eris didn’t ignore the glance he casted to the roaring fireplace before focusing back on Eris. 

“You’re the one who begged for an alliance.” Azriel emphasized the word beg just enough for Eris to notice. He didn’t react even if trousers felt slightly tighter. “If you wish for Rhys to honor it, I suggest you stop being an entitled bastard.” 

“Did he send you?” Eris snapped in reply. “Or did you come on your own to waste my time? I assume it’s the latter since Rhysand is fully aware of the stipulations of our bargain.” 

Azriel crossed his arms. Shadows slid to the carpet, and Eris watched them creep forward. 

“Where is your bargain mark, anyway?” Azriel tilted his head. 

“I don’t have one.” Eris felt the cool touch of a shadow circling around his ankle. 

“Has to be somewhere your father won’t see it,” Azriel mused. Another shadow circled Eris’s other ankle. “Does he weld the knife himself? Or does he make his guards extract information from you while he watches?” 

Both shadows slipped up his pant legs. 

“Himself.” Eris answered honestly. Phantom pains from all the times he’d been questioned lurked in the back of his mind.  “It’s strictly politics. You should know; Rhysand would rather bloody your hands than his own. At least my father is willing to do that part himself.” If that stung, Azriel didn’t show it. “Call back your shadows.” 

Shadows slid down his legs again, slinking out his pants and back onto the carpet. His eyes lost track of where they went when they merged with the others. 

“Inside your left thigh.” A hint of smirk graced his lips. “Of course it’s somewhere slutty.” 

“Are we done?” Eris finally stood and straightened his jacket. 

“Only if you want to be.” 

There was sincerity in those Hazel eyes. An offer. It was nighttime. Besides some guards, no one else  was up at this hour.  Eris debated for a split second if he wanted to risk it. 

“Not in this house,” Eris replied after a moment, more softer than he intended. 

Azriel nodded slightly. “Rhys did send me. He was wondering if you were dead.”

Eris laughed, the hollowness of it evident. “My apologies then, for disappointing you both. All of Pyrthian will know if I die before my father. My brothers would make sure of it with their bragging.” 

Eris could have sworn there was a scowl on the shadowsinger’s face before he stepped back, disappearing and taking his shadows with him. 

***

Eris waited two days after Azriel’s visit to send Rhys a letter. The meeting in the moonstone palace three days after the response was just as tedious as he anticipated. There wasn’t much he didn’t already know. He knew from his correspondence with Jurian that Koschei sent a warning to Vassa. He knew already of the efforts with Day Court to research; Lucien told him of that weeks ago. 

He didn’t like his brother being the one in talks with Helion but vocalizing it would draw suspicion none of them needed. The only surprise of the meeting was the presence of the middle Archeron sister, Elain. She sat silently beside Azriel, watching him. Eris waited until the end of the meeting to put his amber gaze towards her. 

“You never explained why you’re here, little sister.” He loved the way she scowled at him and bristled at the sarcastic endearment. “Are you even still to be my little sister? I can never tell with the way you string him along.”

He heard a scratching of wood. Probably Feyre’s claws since she hissed at him. “Don’t speak to her like that.”

“Why not? We’ll be family eventually.” 

He turned to Rhys and Feyre and he smirked at his correct assumption. He felt Azriel’s glare and a shadow slip around his ankle. He kicked out his foot, shooing it away. He then felt a claw against the wall of his mind. He mentally sighed and opened a crack in it. It was Rhys who spoke to him. 

Why do you always cause problems? Elain is here for a reason. 

What reason is that? I thought her sole job was to ensure Lucien stays tethered to your court. 

Eris shut down his walls again when Rhys growled at him. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. They always acted as if they were above court politics; like they weren’t playing games of their own. Eris leaned back in his seat, debating if he should just leave them to stew. But Elain kept her doe eyes focused on him. He stared back.

She whispered, “Autumn blooms wilt without the sun.” He furrowed his brows at her but she continued. “They weep for the lost fox and the slaughtered hounds. They weep for the sunlight.” 

“Poetry?” He cut his eyes to Rhys and Feyre. 

Elain continued and a chill went down his spine. “Only out of the shadows, will the beast rise. Autumn blooms make the path. If they falter the beast shall fall to the depths. The blooms will be set ablaze and burn to ash.” She blinked and looked at him like she was just now truly looking at him. “Kill your father before he kills you, Eris Vanserra.” 

Realization settled over him. Eris’s eyes cut to Rhysand. A scratch in his mind told him Rhys was listening. 

A fucking seer?

Or poetry. Rhys physically smirked at him. Heed her warning Eris. Time is running out.

***

Eris could have lit his entire guest room on fire with the rage welling in him. Of course Rhysand was hoarding Elain away from his brother, not only for his allegiance but also her powers. A fucking seer. There hadn’t been one in Prythian since before he was born. 

He continued to pace the room, chewing on his nail while he thought. The other sister- the witch, she lost her powers. He never anticipated she’d accept his marriage proposal when he asked but he wished she had. A waste of power. He didn’t know how Nesta lost her powers- his informants heard whispers of Feyre nearly dying in childbirth and Nesta used her power to save her and the heir. Now Elain, with her own abilities, was at risk.

His informants also told him of how a certain shadowsinger was close to Elain. Too close. A flower pendant necklace purchased by him was telling enough. Probably an order from Rhysand to keep Elain occupied while putting just enough distance between her and his brother. It kept Lucien tied to Night Court without risking him taking Elain away. He scoffed loudly. Rhysand and his games, an annoyance to the world. 

Eris stopped, dropping his hand when he smelt the air change. He waited and turned to the opening of the bathing chamber. There stood Azriel, his shadows a frenzy around him and making him look more dark and broody than usual. Eris slid his hands into his jacket pockets. 

“And what do I owe for this visit, Azriel?” 

Azriel walked up to him. Eris watched the shadows try and reach out to him when he stopped within arms reach. 

“I told you to stop antagonizing Mor. I didn’t mean for you to start taking your shit out on Elain.”

“Does she know what you did in this room, Azriel? Does she know you rutted like a mindless beast atop her mate’s brother until we both came undone?” Eris sneered when a hand came around his throat. “You think I don’t know about that? You’re the one who pursues her knowing she’s mated. And knowing you like to fuck males. Don’t act angry about it now.” 

“I’m sick of your fuckin mouth.” He squeezed before shoving him back by his throat. “You’re the one who begged for a lesser male to choke you. Choke you until you came from that alone.” 

Eris coughed, stumbling back and throwing out his hands for balance. “I asked politely. That isn’t begging.” 

“You asked because I told you to. You think you’re better than me but you’d get on your knees and choke on my cock if I pulled it out. Do you even like females? Is that why you left Mor to die?”

That was the wrong thing to say to him. Eris felt his temp rising and he set his arms ablaze with his magic. 

“When will you brutes let that shit go?” Eris stalked up to Azriel, who took just as many steps back. “You found her, didn’t you? I smelt your fucking shadows even back then. I smelled them coming. If I took her, she would have been murdered by my father.” Eris let the rage blind him as he cornered Azriel against the wall. “I’m not the one who put a nail through her womb to make sure that bastard’s seed didn’t take. Stop blaming me for her father’s doings.” 

He would have kept going if the smell of pure terror hadn’t reached his nose, snapping him out of his rage. He realized several things at once. Azriel was utterly still, wings tucked tight and eyes glazed over. Shadows covered his hands until they were no longer visible. Shadows also circled Eris’s arms as if they could suffocate the flames dancing on them. Eris shook out his magic and stepped back, shadows disappearing with the flames. 

Eris always knew those scars on Azriel’s hands were from burns. He knew because he had burn scars of his own, just hidden. Azriel seemed to come back to himself but the shadows didn’t leave his hands. Eris glanced down at them. 

“Who gave you those scars?”

Azriel slumped against the wall, wings drooping in a slump. He blinked a few times before responding. “My brothers. I try to not,” he shook his head. “I normally don’t let it bother me. But the way your magic,” he stopped again, like he might be ill if he opened his mouth. 

“I won’t do it again,” Eris whispered. 

The shadows eased away from Azriel’s hand and Eris grabbed his wrist. Azriel jolted but didn’t yank his arm away. Eris knew he shouldn’t but he traced the scarring with his other fingers while he held up Azriel’s hand with his own. 

“For what it’s worth, I like your scars.” A confession he said so softly he wasn’t sure he even spoke it aloud. “What happened to your brothers? After they did this.”

Azriel snatched his hand away. “Nothing happened.” Eris cut his eyes to see Azriel scowling. “Don’t patronize me, Vanserra.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Eris straightened his posture, clasping his hands behind his back. “Stay away from my brother’s mate and we’ll call it even.” 

“Jealous?” 

One of his shadows floated away and brushed against Eris’s cheek, wrapping around to file through his hair. Azriel’s eyes tracked it while he scowled. Eris pulled a hand from behind his back and lifted it. More shadows came and twirled around his fingers. 

“Something tells me jealousy isn’t necessary.” Eris shook away the shadows. “You should go. Keir will be here and the last thing I need is him thinking I’m in good graces with Rhysand’s inner circle. Unless you plan on fighting me as a cover.” 

Azriel rolled his eyes. “I don’t think Keir wants to smell how you react when I fight you.” Azriel then stepped back and slipped away into the shadows. 

[fandoms-in-law]

Come Play With Us

A second part to my story How I'll Play

Summary: Steve set his requests to play DnD and now Eddie needs to get everything arranged for him and Robin to join them

Authors Note: I've played very little DnD and my brother who's played more advised me only a few times but this really was a bit of fun for me to write

/\/\

Eddie had been planning the campaign ever since Steve first suggested he might play. He'd taken every opportunity given to go around Steve's and hang out with him looking around the Sylvanian families sets and characters and just asking about the things that would make the story interesting for both Robin and Steve to play. He wanted them to carry on playing the entire thing and maybe agree to doing more than just this first campaign so would do everything in his power to learn the type of players they might become and give them a first campaign they'd enjoy, while still including the elements Hellfire expected and enjoyed about his stories.

The only thing he'd shared with Steve so far was that he'd bring in 2 larger figures for battles but had picked ones which should still fit in with the Sylvanian Families characters and buildings.

Today was the bigger challenge however, and he genuinely wished to avoid doing it a little longer except they'd completely finished the campaign they were on.

/\/\

Eddie clapped twice, finishing the descriptive paragraph and signalling to the players the game was over, but standing to lean over his board to prevent anyone from packing their things away.

“Quiet everyone, before this session breaks up, I have news from the king.” He declared, making eye contact with as much of the table as allowed it.

Gareth narrowed his eyes at him before asking, “As part of the campaign or as part of like normal life?”

“Stop calling Steve that.” Dustin complained when meeting Eddie's eyes, sighing as if it was a burden to hear.

Mike immediately agreed, rolling his eyes, “Seriously Eddie, he's not and never has been a king.”

“He has sent us his demands should we wish for him to join a campaign and I have agreed to them.” Eddie continued speaking over them, and reaching for the pages he'd copied out the night before.

Jeff shook his head, scoffing playfully at the words. “Of course you have.”

“Not like he's been talking about the guy for years or anything. Should've expected this.” Gareth muttered back, already reaching for the pages as Eddie started separating them.

Dustin leant over to snatch the first before he got a grip of it. “Really? We can get him to play?”

“I thought he swore never to.” Lucas mused, waiting for more pages to be offered out but looking over Dustin's shoulder as they both expected the list to be Steve's demands.

Mike glared at his friends. “Like he's actually going to take this seriously. We're better off ignoring whatever stupid demands he has.” He grumbled, getting tongues stuck out in reply.

Eddie shook his head at the antics, finishing passing the pages out and handing the extra to Lucas. “Here are lists of the races you all need to make characters of. Pick one, anyone trying to insist on playing a human is stating they don't want to play our next campaign. I will contact you all with the dates when it can be arranged and the campaign will be taking place in Steve's house. No figurines needed as Steve is providing them and plenty of scenery.”

The older Hellfire teams read the lists quickly, curious for any hints over what the coming campaign could be. “We're playing a campaign where humans are extinct? That actually sounds awesome. Do we need to make our characters any particular level? Are you starting Steve off at level 1?” Jeff checked, picking up his pencil to star a couple of the races included.

“Damn, Eddie, are you going to tell us how we go extinct? Cause I want to know that.” Gareth asked before a reply could be given since none was really expected as he leant closer the other older members to start speculating what Eddie could be planning.

Dustin stared between the page and the Dungeon Master in shock, only stating, “What?”

“I guess Will wins that bet. He said Steve wouldn't have a human character the first time we got him to play.” Lucas smiled, copying Jeff's method of highlighting the races he was interested in using.

“Why the hell would Steve go straight for a different race? He already complains it's too complicated. This just makes it more so.” Mike challenged, looking to Dustin expectantly now he'd given up grumbling.

Dustin did then jump up, hands flat on the table before one came up to gesture wildly at Eddie, “It's happening guys! I told you Eddie could swing it for us! How did you convince him?”

“The king was the one to suggest it. Apparently a gift from family he scarcely knows inspired him. So you'll get your characters prepared?” Eddie confirmed, wide grin directed at his friends.

“If I have to” Mike sighed but had a smile hidden by his complaining.

Lucas nodded too, holding both pages up. “Yes and I'll ask Erica if she wants to get involved too. What type of figurines has Steve got?”

“One's you'll never expect or expect to be used for this. I'll get Steve to show Erica if she tries refusing. I bet it'll get her playing.” Eddie promised, having decided with Steve a few evenings back not to mention that to them before the campaign began.

“I already know which race and class I'm having. Can you get Steve to make me his characters brother?” Dustin decided, scanning down the list once before turning pleading eyes on Eddie.

He shook his head already, resolute not to give away much about the characters he'd been helping Robin and Steve to create. “Probably not. I think he's already having Robs as his team before joining the party.”

Grant looked over the page and back to Eddie, saying only, “Tell us you're making a full campaign and not one to pander to Steve? But yes, we'll all get our characters made.”

“It'll be a real campaign. Steve has included 'make it challenging and hellish' in his demands too. Not quite in that phrasing.” Eddie assured them all.

“Hell, looks like everyone's in.” Gareth surmised, looking around the interest everyone at the table had over the vaguely described campaign.

Eddie grinned, turning to packing his things up now he'd got that agreement. “It'll be one to remember, I know it.”

/\/\

Getting schedules matched up ended up being more difficult than Eddie expected. He'd been convinced that Steve and Robin had somehow put it in their contract that they couldn't be scheduled to work separately and realising it was more that they just bugged and supported each other in Family Video more often than not really messed the times the campaign could be up.

“Robin's closing that night, can't do it then.” Steve commented the first time he saw Eddie going over his calendar, circling a possible day based off the shifts noted on it. “How about Tuesday?”

“Lucas has practice and I've heard your lecture about excluding him enough for a lifetime.” Eddie countered, checking his notebook over when Hellfire had commitments.

For a moment they both looked at the calendar, before Steve huffed, pulling it down. “I'll write out Robin's shifts and then you can add on whatever things are in that notebook. We'll see what looks to be free after that.”

Eddie leant back gesturing for him to do so.

As much as he'd silently doubted the idea after Eddie had the plans of Hellfire all written out it was easy to plan two evenings a week for the campaign. Steve had suggested it, knowing how much the kids liked to complain over having to wait on cliffhangers for a week. It wasn't going to stop them, but Eddie was definitely bringing it up every time someone tried to complain.

That had been all he'd expected to do that afternoon, but Steve was scratching the back of his neck. “Shoot me down if it's stupid, but, well, Robs and I were talking about how easy it could be to make our own things for Sylvanians and I thought pipe cleaners are easy to shape.” He began rambling, going to one of the drawers in the kitchen Eddie had been sure was just for useless devices the Harrington's had brought. He pulled out a few different pipe cleaner weapons. “I know your figurines tend to have like weapons included in them so thought we could give our characters these to like show what they fight with or something?”

Eddie couldn't help beaming, picking up what had to be a bow. “This is adorable and you're entirely right. They'll be perfect for DnD Sylvanian Families style.”

“Cool, cool.” Steve nodded, still holding the rest out.

/\/\

“Okay, I don't know what these toys are, but they're brilliant and I better be leaving with a family of them, Harrington.” Erica declared, seeing the table already set up for their game.

The fact neither her brother or Mike had said anything got Steve to come through curiously. “I've got a few rabbit families, but if you want one of the other animals you're out of luck, Erica. You two okay?”

“We're playing DnD with kids toys?” Mike sneered, but put the cat figure Eddie claimed would suit his tabaxi character down carefully.

“With Sylvanian Families. A gift I got from a grandmother I barely know.” He explained easily, seeing no reason to hide it.

Before Lucas could react more there was a knock and Steve was letting the older Hellfire guys in, “Come on in. Eddie's set everything up and I think gave us set places by putting relevant animals in each place. Anyone want a drink?”

“Did Eddie repaint these buildings too?” Gareth asked, looking at the couple that were on the table and the others currently underneath or around it.

“Oh, Robin and I helped with that. Apparently while I can convince him to let us play a campaign just with Sylvanian Families the aesthetic of the buildings is too saccharine for it.” He agreed.

With everyone there, Eddie interrupted their chatter, clapping and gesturing over the table for everyone to sit down.

He'd loved Steve's limitations to the campaign and had found it gave him inspiration for what to do and ideas to explain the world their characters would inhabit, even before Gareth got excited about a human apocalypse.

Now, with Steve and Robin taking seats either side of him, and the rest of Hellfire spread along Harrington's dining table, he could only grin, standing and leaning over his shield with all attention on him.

“Adventurers, Welcome! Here you are in Sylvan, brought to town for your own reasons, some alone, some in pairs. Do you wish for the story to start after you've met or to tell me the tales of how your party will form?” He hoped they'd play through meeting and had included the option to give his new players a chance to get used to their stats and the reasons they might roll outside of combat.

Steve and Robin just looked to the rest silently, trying to figure out if this was a normal beginning. Dustin began gesturing to the other kids, entirely failing to communicate anything of what he wanted and confusing everyone who met his eyes so the older Hellfire members shared their own looks.

“Do you have a plan for when we introduce ourselves if we don't start as a group?” Gareth asked, looking over. “Cause that'd be fun to do for once.”

Eddie nodded, “Dustin will introduce himself first, then around the table until Robin and Steve. We'll take where you sit as your origin points in the town.”

“We're meeting as we play.” Jeff decided, nodding at everyone until they returned the gesture.

Eddie stood again, smiling. “Well then, Broc, you're in the shops of the Haregon town of Sylvan in search of supplies. Currently you are stood outside a tailors shop. Introduce yourself and tell us who you want to greet of the figures in your view.”

With that play began by Dustin talking to an NPC, hoping it would be Steve. Eddie had placed those figures precisely because he'd anticipated that choice but also to start feeding the story hooks to them. He'd checked that Steve and Robin were happy with their rabbits being hidden in a shop and they'd been relieved to hear his explanation that it should delay the party pulling them into gameplay immediately. Out of everyone, Eddie thought only Erica would have the wits to try going into the shops and the possible desire to get Steve and Robin playing before they introduced themselves.

/\/\

“We've got to go to the caves next.” Dustin insisted after Eddie had declared the campaign over for the day.

Mike and Will immediately started debating with him, pointing out other paths and leads they could follow and whether the caves were really the most important to head to.

Erica meanwhile was looking at the Sylvanian Families again, turning shrewd eyes onto Steve. “We're playing with these outside of DnD at some point.”

“Course, I've got a couple other buildings Eddie decided not to repaint we could use.” Steve agreed easily, glancing up from where he and Robin had decided to compare their notes from the session.

Eddie fidgeted with his hands, looking the pair over nervously. “And over continuing the campaign?” He asked.

“Definitely going to happen. It's been really interesting and I completely get why you're all kind of obsessed with it.” Robin agreed, looking over as Steve copied something she'd written down.

“Did you include that fight at the end just in case you couldn't convince us to continue?” Steve asked, a challenge in his eyes. “I told you I'd play the full campaign.”

“And you've said to basically everyone you've spent more than a few minutes hanging out with here that you'd never play.” Eddie countered, “I think being nervous about scaring you off from playing the game is valid.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Valid shmalid, I'm looking forward to whatever the big bad in the cave is. I just hope we can keep Broc away from it long enough to know what dangers we'll be heading into in those caves.”

“You're referring to the characters not the players.” Eddie said, half amazed, “You really did enjoy the game.”

“Of course that's what you focus on.” Steve muttered, grinning before standing and getting the attention on him. “Alright, you can all do your arguing over next steps via walkies or at school. I know you kids have curfews and it's time I get to hang out with people my age for a bit. You guys are staying for a while longer, right?” The last question was directed to the rest of Corroded Coffin, a genuine invitation they all seemed stunned to receive.

Grant shrugged, “I've not got a set time to be home. Have either of you?”

“Nope, I'm free to hang out.” Jeff agreed too, looking to Gareth.

“Might as well get to know the king. It's not like Eddie hasn't been trying to figure out a way for us to do so since whatever happened in the Spring.” He reasoned, smirking as Eddie spluttered. “Doesn't surprise me that you failed until Steve had to be the one to invite us though.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but smiled sweetly at Eddie. “You never suggested that to me. Did you think they'd embarrass you, or that Robin would team up with them to tease you to hell?”

After spluttering to try and explain Eddie gave up, yelling to the kids, “If you want a ride home get your shit together already and lets go.”

Robin stared after Eddie as he herded the kids out, nudging Steve's shoulder. “Didn't they all ride here? Is Eddie really putting 5 bikes as well as 5 kids in that van to take them home?”

“Anything to avoid one of us pointing out his willingness to do anything to get Steve involved in his interests.” Gareth stated simply. “But if he tries convincing us to play anything top 40 then I'm gonna have a problem with you Harrington.”

Steve chuckled, nodding as he turned to face him, “I don't think I have that much influence, but noted. I'll pick songs that don't make the charts from those artists then.”

“Bastard.”

“And that's somehow less insulting than still referring to me as king. Knew I'd grow on you guys.” Steve smirked, leading the way through to the living room but not checking if any of them followed him.

[dionadaiir]

True beauty is not of the body or of the face, no, it is a thing of the soul - of fire and air, breath and spirit, something brave and unafraid.

independent, private && selective roleplay blog for (  eden mactavish  ) an ORIGINAL CHARACTER. MULTIFANDOM and HEADCANON based. Not Spoiler-Free. OC, crossover, && au friendly. Multiship. and

DASH ONLY.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

BIO • MEME TAG • STARTER CALL • PINTEREST • EDITS

blogroll: @oakthcrn @veilshield @adelweissa @umbramaris

guidelines under the cut.

1. Hi, My name is JACKIE and my pronouns are She / Her. I am 30+ and work full time. I work full time and so my presence on the dash may vary. Discord is available on request.

MINORS. DO NOT INTERACT. IF YOU ARE A MINOR, I WILL SOFT/BLOCK YOU. I WILL NOT INTERACT WITH ANYONE UNDER THE AGE OF 20.

2. My muse is an original character, and will be headcanon based with media influences. He is multi fandom, multi verse. All my graphics and headcanons belong to me. Do not steal them.

3. I do write smut, however, I only write it with people I’ve interacted with for a while and my smut goes under Read More on tumblr or it will be on discord in private. Anything of a sexual nature will be tagged

“ cw nsfw “ or nsft or tw nsft

4. I am more than happy to have asks be turned into threads. All I ask is to move the ask to a text post. I will not rp directly from the ask. It’s just too clunky looking for me. Do not reblog/like threads you are not involved with. Personals, do not interact. If you do, you will be blocked on sight.

5. Please do not bring drama or politics to me. This is a place for me to escape from the real world. if i’m doing something actively harmful please tell me. Shoot me a message.

6. Eden is a private, mutual exclusive blog. This means I will only interact with muses that I follow. I am considered low activity and may not post everyday.

I AM NOT A REBLOG SOURCE. DON'T REBLOG THINGS FROM ME.

Moving forward, if you reblog something from me that isn't our thread or something I have made for you specifically, I will block you. I've had enough being used as an edit / meme source. It really messes up my activity. I have it stated in my rules, and it is continuously being ignored.

Please do not reblog memes / edit sets from me if there is a source you can reblog from. The only exception to this rule is when there is no source or the source is deactivated, other than that, you will be blocked. Please respect this rule, I'm getting tired of having to repeat myself.

7. I am oc friendly and encourage ocs to interact, however, there must be a bio page for your oc. Please don’t take it personally if I don’t connect with your oc. Not everyone is going to have chemistry.

8. I will tag triggers and squeaks. If you have a specific one, please message me so I can appropriate tags. The only thing that I don’t like seeing is furry nsfw and images of excessive gore.

9. I don’t do drama. Don’t drag me into it. I don’t care about it. I will make my own choice of who I rp with. That being said, if you are racist/homophoic/misogynist -- other words if you’re a cunt, I will not tolerate you and block you. Be nice to each other, it’s not a hard concept. Do not bring drama to me. I will not engage.

10. I am not consistent with my activity so please do not pester me for replies. I don’t mind a gentle nudge every once in a while, because let’s face it, I get easily distracted or I forget. Ims and Discord are strictly for mutuals only.

11. There may be shipping on this blog. I only ship with chemistry .Eden is bisexual.

12. If I follow you, it means that I can see us potentially writing together. If after a week and you have not followed me, no worries. I will unfollow. I like to keep my dash clean for my own mental health. I will not follow you / block you if you use Amber Heard as a face claim. Also, this blog is anti JKR.

13. All I ask if you unfollow me is that you softblock me, so I am not following you. If you block me, please block me on all my blogs so I don’t accidentally interact with you.

[betouma]

hai... it's velvet (beyuwol & bejaeyoung) again. LMAO. who would've thought! today i'm here with asakura touma, a rather impulsive app... even though he's been in my head for weeks... so as you can tell i'm woefully underprepared but i'm happy to introduce you to him!

under the cut is a short rundown of his background and some plot/connection ideas! here is his profile (the only presentable page lmao). please LIKE THIS POST if you'd like me to slide into your ims. i also have discord/twitter upon request (and i'm definitely better at responding there... for the most part).

background

born in osaka, japan

has a messy family, grew up listening to a lot of fighting between his parents so he learned to take care of himself so he doesn't bother his already busy & stressed parents

eventually his parents divorced when he was in middle school, and he moved with his mother. his mother remarried, and touma now has a step brother who is significantly younger

unfortunately, his mother and his step-father also fight. but this time, not wanting his brother to go through what he did, ended up being the peacekeeper and the mediator. he learned how to analyze/observe his parents behaviours and traits and tries to get ahead before things blow up out of proportion (they start yelling at him too, it gets really bad every month, and he learns to tune it out somehow)

was always an artistic kid, he started graffiti art as a way to vent his frustrations because he has nowhere else to dump then. he ended up connecting with music for that same reason too

he can play the bass and the drums, was in a band in school for a while just for fun

loves dancing, fell in love with choreographing in general. he thinks it's a beautiful way to express yourself, he would make up random dances to trending songs that he can do with his brother

his mother and step-father started relying too much on him to communicate and the stress is becoming a lot to bear. graduation rolls around and they were too busy arguing with each other to come to the ceremony

he finally wants out, and he enrolls in a university in korea. his mother is hesitant at first because he'd be staying with his biological father who moved to korea, but she relents when he mentions that he got a scholarship

it still kills him to leave his brother though, and he doesn't want to but he feels like he'll start losing himself the longer he stays

ironically, he decides to major in psychology

also became a freelance dog walker bc to him that's his free therapy

plots/connections

friends from japan! he'd be happy to see people from back home. he's always welcoming and it's easy to talk to him, so he'd also approach anyone simply because of this one thing they share

someone for him to take care of that reminds him of his younger brother

maybe he... walks your dog sometimes! touma thinks he does a good job at it, but maybe your dog got scared of something that's out of his control and now it won't leave his house

inevitable... exes. someone that came from japan, or a summer roamnce when your muse was in japan, that he ended up meeting here too. he's also been here since at least 2-3 years ago, so a more recent ex can work too! he can be dense and 'too friendly', might've acted more like a friend than a partner. would've coddled instead of treating his partner like a proper equal because he's not used to being taken care of instead lol

dancing friends! someone he would dance with, share choreos with, film tiktoks with... things like that

someone who scared him when he was doing graffiti art somewhere and in reflex he sprayed you with his paint... woops

uni friends, fellow artistic friends, friends who can teach him how to sing, composing friends that he thinks are inspirational

an almost fwb situation except he thought he was genuinely going to your home to see your pet and to eat actual ramyeon. he did not get the hint!

someone who noticed that he gets a little too involved when there's an argument happening around him which is... a bit! worrying! maybe!

someone that can use a 'therapist friend' except he's actually a psych major and it kind of just happens

anything and everything! i love talking about dynamics and whatnot B)

[mahg-stuff]

𝑛𝑜 𝑟𝑜𝑜𝑚 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑦 𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑡 ~

"...that sugared place..." 𝜗𝜚

─────

AN: Hello there!! It feels gr8 to be back & writing for y’all. I decided to kick it off with a short but sultry? drabble as I wanted something quick to fill the appetite I left you angels in. 💋 My first time writing something for the era btw (it feels like I’m cheating on bde..)!!! I also have absolutely no idea how this plot came about or how it’d end so I quite literally typed away ‘til my heart was content…

Hopefully my writing skills aren’t too off or unclear due to the long writers block I was in. And, for the unanswered requests in my inbox I am doing my best to get to all of them don’t think I’ve forgotten about you!! <33

(pls exuse any errors! i still need to go bck & check for misspelling and or typos!)

kay, enjoy my lovely angels!! 🪽

wc: 2-3k words?? Summary: Experiencing the pure bliss of an untried orgasm as Elvis puts the blame on himself for how poorly he’d been loving on you. (prob gonna tweak/change this later but for now this dull summary shall stay, ig…) Pairing: '69-70!elvis x afab!reader Warnings: 18+, p in v, unprotected, smut (described rather mildly, i think, in comparison to my other works but it won't disappoint..I hope!), elvis' faltering innocence!kink, slight dubcon??(reader comes across quite the slow-witted girl), mentions religious acts & discussion

“W-Wait, El—“ Your cry came out rather bellowed underneath him as he barbed in and out of that lovely snatch he’d been looking after with such caution. Working that pelvis as if he had discarded the whole 'handle with care' label and was now fully taking charge over his girl. Indeed, you were more than willing to surrender, lying on your back within pale blue satin sheets with legs spread like the pages of a book, set up for him to explore at his leisure. His darling blues now blown out with lust as his black locks began to mat against his forehead, his pouty mug concentrating solely on the task at hand rather than your call on. Your painted toes nestled in silken bedding beneath, moving eagerly to dance against his calves, your body and soul urging to adhere to his foreign propulsion.

His way felt somewhat renewed, as if experiencing a sense of novelty all over again.

Still being so sweet but, vulgar, he didn't even bother to remove your slip, had you in bed before you knew it, only tearing those precious cotton undies before he fixed himself right at your center. And was he already stripped when you'd walked in? You would never know with how quick he had you in classic missionary, a smothering embrace with your knees bent to his own accord and his abdomen to yours.

𝜗𝜚

Elvis had always mused about leaving room for the 'Holy Spirit,' as if the act itself wasn't already far from holy. But rather than being a bible's length apart, a different length was embedded deeply inside you at the moment. He was a swayed man at times, so in his listening, leaving room for the Holy Spirit was simply, to acknowledge His presence.

How? …

To halt, before he bottomed out,

to moderate and limit his movements,

for his lovemaking to be almost merciful because he was to be justified afterwards if he did.

Now, whichever birdy claimed to him this, they knew very well that the man buried between your legs was easily influenced on occasion and would even take his established beliefs to the grave. Perhaps his finest boyish quality. Did he have the greatest degree of credulity possible?

Even so, this mindset that he's held so high on a pedestal seemed to get lost on its way, he was practically impaling into your sweetness, his hips driving forward with a fervor that bordered on desperation. It was as if he was trying to prove something—to take you to that sugared place only he was certain you'd never been. How did he fail to notice up to a couple nights ago… He'd been denying you that glorious delight for so long, putting two and two together, finally taking notice that you'd never have your fill but he'd always have his. …

And so, while he strived to conjure your big O, you grew wide-eyed, like a startled doe, as a dissimilar, delicate bloom of delight began to unfurl itself within. Your lips parted once more, but just before you could call out to him, he nuzzled your cheek with his bristly one to softly hush you. Breathlessly. "L-Let me, I've been refusin' my lil' girl for far too long." The way he kept moving, joined by his velvety voice and the faint smell of brut on him, left you rapt, unable to verbally oppose again, just sweet little breaths weeping out your kisser for him. He moved his cheek from yours, his dark gaze on your pretty, bedewed face with your once perfect hair splayed out above you. You looked as if trying to attune while startled, but yet, so taken. You poor thing, how couldn't you've been startled? he thought. So habituated to his selfish ways that you weren't tuned in to the knot that was beginning to form in your midsection.

Even in the earlier times of any coupling between you two, he was especially tactful of this mentality, considering the progression from initial hesitance to eventual intimacy.

Consisting of heavy petting until he was sorted out from all the fondling, then it led to him only probing the smallest proportion of his hooded tip into your untried virgin hole, and then finally, before you knew it, all of him entirely.

He'd been bent on starting off slow with you and being so very gentle too, never wanting to do any harm or damage to that precious fruit between your legs when he’d sink himself inside and out of his beau's peach, almost like he was striving to keep up an imitation that you were still all intact down below and not yet poked.

And you, so completely unaware of it, just settling for his better judgment, as he’d expect of you. He felt like a cruel man and the neglectful lover, even if he'd only been doing it for the righteous in the eyes of the Lord.

Giving you one more glance over, an underlying apologetic look in his icy stare, but his hips spurring out a shudder as he felt your snatch douse him—refreshingly unwonted. Elvis' mouth abruptly fell open, "O-Oh, baby," he bit back, a handsome scowl painting his face. You had no notice of how carefully he'd been staring, too occupied exploring the uncharted depths of what you didn't know was being veiled from you with shut eyes. Without attend, you had your hips shifting experimentally, creating filthy, sticky sounds as both limbs intertwined along the blue silk. Oh, that look on his face as he felt how wet his novice baby doe was beginning to grow, elevating his head some more to watch how your cheeks were blotched in rose, and how your chin was drawn up. Lookin' so pretty taking her first steps to that sugared place. He attached his lips to yours, scattering laden kisses as he whispered, "You sweet, sweet, girl." Sweet girl, because you yourself never realized how long you'd gone without it.

He continued to kiss away, from your lips to your nose, then your forehead, before he tucked his perfect chin at the crown of your head. This was it. He was letting himself be swallowed, entirely forgetting the Holy Spirit all in one, the precious blushing missy underneath him was his one and only acknowledgement now.

In that moment, your eyes shot open as he pressed into you some more, your core completely full and snug as he cocooned you between himself and the mattress. Your hands swiftly latched onto his shoulders, peachy pink manicured nails digging into his tan skin, a tension was building, and its unfamiliarity began to confuse you. “E-Elvis.” A weep at last managed to fall out of your very kissed-out lips as you jostled at his shoulders and wriggled your legs, a helpless attempt to calm the way his hips were moving and his rough thatch of hair was grinding on your perked pearl just right.

Elvis was disappearing, his large hands tangled through your hair, elbows to the bed as he dug his nose into your tresses, snuffling the feebleness of powdery floral shampoo. Rather than halting for you, he found the way you cried his name sickly sweet, instead, he cradled you in his arms some more, your face now embedded into his damp chest as his bushy mound continued to graze at your tender button. "Needs'ta show her what she's been missin'." He muffled out airily within your head of hair, continuing his relentless assault on your senses. Your body was fawn-like in his arms, so small, helpless, and completely at his mercy. Whimpering into him as he huffed, your warm, lush folds opened around with each thrust.

Elvis suddenly hissed at the thought of having taken this long to finally mold your sweet, cute cunt around him. Kissing down on your head almost mercifully. You attempted to meet his gaze as you felt his lips press down on you, but failed miserably when he pulled you back to his chest. The knot in your tummy was beginning to tighten from the friction he was creating along your bundle of nerves. It didn’t help that your perked nipples rolled against the thin fabric of your slip as his body continuously brushed into yours.

And every time he pulled away just to sink back into you, he’d hear a hoarse little cry spill out from your lips before you got the chance to swallow it. You were near coming undone, your body beginning to act of its own accord, unconsciously bucking your hips to meet his own. He found it adorable—his yearling of a girl doing her best to mimic and brush up on his shrubbery thicket. Elvis’ breath drew in through his teeth, and as you struggled to meet his bearish pace, swiftly he moved a hand to your backside, tensely beckoning you to wrap your legs around him. “C’mon, wrap 'em—wrap ‘em ‘round me, hon’.” Giving your bubble bottom a pat.

Unable to form any words with your face practically smushed into his firm sternum, you did your best to loosely get them around. Just to instantly regret the new position, a yelp tore out of your chest—his tip was near kissing your cervix. In all the way he was, forcing your slippery petals farther apart than he'd ever done, completely immersed in the tiny fawns pink flesh. A tear urged to slip through the wisps of your lashes, he had every pulsing inch and curve of his hardened length jamming at your tiny canal. His grip cruelly tightened as you attempted to raise up and dismount, too busy shuddering, even spurting a little at how much warmer and softer it felt here for him to give a damn that he was blistering his nice girl from within.

Goddamit! He condemned himself once more for how much he held back on exploring his sweet little girls snatch.

You'd been too benevolent, too forbearing, not to beckon him in the past, letting him do what he thought was best. When really all his nourishing, protecting, and enduring was only going to lead you to languish in the bittersweetness of it all. He'd been so very careless out of pure conformity intent.

Still. It was you.

He needed you to forgive him, to let him kneel before you with his head bowed at your lap, for how terribly and wrongly he's done bedding you. To let him avow as you bear witness, just to bathe him in the soft, forgiving light that was your embrace. Yes, that was to be the preplan. 

It'd not been long before he began skidding to it again with these thoughts whirling in mind, aware for a fact that you felt like he was spearing you outside your ability, yet it all the rather burned delicately, your pearl all the lively with slick and getting the best rubbing she's ever had. His hips were moving laboriously, whilst leaking a litany of contrite things through his fatigued exhales. "…'ve done m-mah baby wrong." His mangled mumbles went unheard, filtered out to your heed, all you could pick up on was his lovely wrecked breathing and the slippery, molten mess forming where you both were joined. "I-its feeling too h-hot, E-Els," you mumble against his chest, your voice strained and shaky. But despite the suffocating heat, you can't bring yourself to move away from him. "Only a-a good hot, darlin'," he drawled out, "U-Uh lil' burnin' love can do ya real good."

But as you lay there, wrapped up in his arms, feeling the sweat permeating your bodies, you couldn't help but feel a bit scared. His words were soothing, his touch heavy and comforting, but it felt as if something was bound to be driven out of you. The room filled with the sound of limbs intertwining and haggered exhales, as it all was becoming too much. You’d gone half lidded, your mind was totally elsewhere, going blank as bliss began to engross your entire being. “Wh-what’s, oh, E-Elvis o-“ you purled, becoming confuzzled when your tummy began to cave in and convulse, your weakening body looked about ready to shrivel in his hold, those pretty nails frantically wringing angrily at his bicep in disarray. You can't help but allow your head to thrash in a muddled protest a few times before a bitten off shriek of startled ecstasy tumbles from your mouth. His darling doe has made it. Seeing stars as he held you in his big arms, the slippery fabric sticking to your back from all the perspiration that'd been created.

Elvis' lips puckered and his mouth damn near watered, feeling the first fluttering pulses of your orgasm squeeze around him, his breath catching in his throat as he felt himself begin to falter in his movements. He clutched you closer, his face still very much buried in your mess of locks, letting your body tremble against his own, a soft sound escaped his lips—a quiet snicker that slipped out unbidden. "A-Atta girl, let it have ya." "Let it have m-my pretty 'ittle baby," he cooed just as he began circling his hips to stir more of those cute fusses out of you, and succeeding, not only had you become a noisey, thrashing mess under him but a faucet too, spilling all over his tump of curls and staining the sheets a deep blue.

Lord up above knows, he had to have you like this every time now.

Your throat seemed to begin going dry as you rode the wave of this unsettling bliss that has you believing you've just been reborn, flushed out face still deeply lodged in his chest, the radiant heat of both bodies was practically suffocating, so, tentatively, you made an initial move to pull away.

Only to be beckoned back, "S-Stay…'st bit more." His movements were sloppy and weakening as he embarked on his own release, yet his hold on you didn’t falter. Forging you to comply and stay put. Relishing the way you were smothering his thighs, he was hardly concerned with how hot you were burning and undulating beneath him. His cock weeping with joy while he’s burying his elbows into the mattress, lifting his hips a bit higher than before (a tendency to pull out) with each thrust as that beloved lip curl begins to frame his pouty mouth. Within seconds, a yelp is let loose from you as you're released from his embrace, and he has his pulsating length in and out of you, bunching your slip up and keeping it in place with his fist for his leaky pecker to find solace against your bare tummy.

It was routinely his favorite way to finish.

His eyes were too busy screwed shut, but he was sure you were all the scandalized, fragile looking thing right now. “L-Lord—fuck.” A pained cry erupted from his lips as both weakened bodies slid up and down, up and down against one another, his hooded crimson tip digging into your supple skin on the brink of ecstasy. You shove gently at his smooth shoulder blade, your hinde eyes downcast to look between the two of you, your mouth emitting soft gusts of air, curiously running your delicate hand upon your muff, eager to understand all the wet that had spilled from you. Breaths continuously strike your forehead while he snarls above you.

Then.

Before you know it, he’s whimpering softly and resting his forehead against yours firmly for leverage, rubbing a few more times, clumsily, drawing up just as hot milky white spurts come flying out, his body going taut for a second before he’s shivering against you. Your stomachs are coated in the stickiness and messiness of it all, but all the while, you can't help but feel overwhelmed by all this, him creating a beautiful mess amongst you two was no unusual thing, but a distinct part of you felt pleasantly defiled.

He sucks in a final breath when he feels himself starting to soften, giving one final unwilling thrust before inclining upwards with the help of his elblows on either side of your head, his visage blissfully spent and exhausted. His striking face acends from yours before his lips poorly land a kiss on your forehead, his slumped gaze finally takes a moment as you lie there, a fawn fragility heavily decrying your appearance.

A little wide eyed thing with pink blooms on your cheeks that blotchily dragged down to your jaw. And your lips, a perfect O of disbilef, your hair beautifully ravegged from all the tugging his hands performed, strands of hair falling haphazardly across your face as you recollect on the otherworldly sensation that had been withheld from you on his behalf. It was captured across your entire face—unadulterated bliss.

You feel his weight shift as he finally draws away, his eyes watching his pearly spunk glide down your belly button hole before they land at the small hand that was still ghostly feeling at herself. Only for his gaze to wander back over across your face, the lack of awareness in its expression suddenly mirrors a revived ache in his chest, a tangible reminder of how half-baked he'd been having you.

He helped pull your slip down to cover modesty, it’s sapped material now glued to your exterior, then sank to his side next to you while still facing you, taking ahold of your prettified hand and gently squeezing it. "H-Had ya hidden in the dark for so long," he whispered, his voice barely audible in the hazed room. You lazily sat up half way, trying to register his muffled words, "…What?" Your voice soft and awkward due to the remaining sensitivity your body is still feeling, which has been causing you to jerk every so often. "Ya ain’t know any better," he murmured, completely disregarding your inquiry and brushing a strand of hair away from your aflush, impeccable face. Kissing your hand swiftly before he sat up himself, as he recalled, "Hafta forgive me.." Observing the confusion that formed in the curve of your mouth when you tilted your head at him, how the gentle arch of your brow furrowed in contemplation, observing as his sweet missy found herself lost in the labyrinth of her man's indecipherable words. Of course, you didn't know any better. He began pulling his gorgeously tanned, naked form off of you, giving you a sort of guilty glance, if you weren't mistaken. "H-Hey, where you—" you trailed off quietly as you watched him blunder off and then descend to his knees before you, in front of the baby blue draped bed, where your legs dangled from the edge. "Elvis?" you called demurely.

With a deep breath, he raised his hand to his forehead, then down to his chest, across to his left shoulder, and finally to his right shoulder. The sign of a cross before confession.

For that to be righteous in your eyes, regardless if you hadn't a clue as to why this gorgeous beast of man was kneeling at your feet.

Fin…

Master List

₊ ⊹Taglist (updated): @fallinlovewithurlove @doll-elvis @j-v-9-2 @myradiaz @codalysssssworld @caitskywalker14 @claire-elvisgirl @jaqueline19997 @ash-omalley @spooky-hazex @that-hotdog @1dluver13xx @iloveelvisss @presleysweetheart @dkayfixates @littlehoneyposts @ladelinee @librababe99

(u can let me know if you’d also like to be untagged as well!)

₊ ⊹ Get added to Taglist for future stories here. ♡

[unboundtravels]

🎲

𝑀𝑢𝑙𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝗥𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲

send  🎲  and i’ll place our muses into this generator and post the resulting muse combinations and a few ideas on how to make it work!

I'm not gonna lie to you, Charlie— I got a lot of really good matchups. I'll confess I did keep it limited to Star Rail and Genshin, but I included all your primary & secondary muses. I did include your secret menu as we did start writing together via an experiment with Dottore, but I balanced it out my including the muses from my request-only page. In total, that gave us an even split of twenty from your list and eighteen from mine. I even included my experimental Doctor's, just for fun (Though none of those pairings made the list, sadly). Here's what I see working. A lot of Time War pairings here because of my current hyperfixations, but I tried to give a lot of options.

  Dottore [Master!Verse] * The Scarf Doctor [Time War]

How could I resist? I mean, truly? How could I? It was at the top of the fucking list. The way we crafted this verse together really made me feel like your interpretation of The Master and the take you brought to just my crackpot verse idea got me so hooked that it pretty much cemented that your Dottore was Scarf's Master, through and through. I believe The Doctor & The Master have a yin & yang vibe, where each incarnation of The Doctor has their version of The Master (Pertwee/Delgado, Simm/Tennant, Gomez/Capaldi) and it really felt like we'd hit that kind of right cord with Dottore/Scarf. So the idea of these two running into each other again when Scarf is at his lowest? Oh, the drama would be palpable. Even though it's labeled as his time war verse, I still would probably set this pre-time war, and show an encounter that happened just before it. Maybe an adaptation of Eight & MacQueen meeting in Dark Eyes, during a mission for The Timelords— both of them on the opposite ends. Or, during a run-of-the-mill scheme for The Master, in which The Doctor reunites with his old foe. I'm limiting myself to one pairing with The Dottore Master, though. However, out of all of the options on here? This spoke the HIGHEST. A more somber and more focused Scarf going toe-to-toe with the incarnation of The Master that I really think tests him? Exquisite. Palpable. The Flavors are melting on my mouth.

ELIO * The War Doctor

I mean truly. Truly. This is just a match up I think the both of us know in our hearts— that it would just go absolutely insane. Could Elio read the future of the Time War? Does he prepare his hunters for it? Do they factor into it? Whether or not we want to reference the Stellaron Hunters from my verse or from your canon, it can go either way. While I don't know what would prompt them to meet (or clash) I can see The War Doctor and Elio having some tense moments. If Elio knows the future, would he taunt The Doctor with that? If he can only see one of two possible destinies (Mutally Assured Destruction or the destruction of the entire universe) would he prompt The Doctor toward one or the other? Did he foresee that War would push the button and fundementally shake the foundations of the universe? Did that factor into his plan with Nanook and The Trailblazer? Did he need to engineer his own survival of the war? Lots of questions, tons of possible directions. All of them intense and dramatic, for sure.

Jing Yuan * Rassilon [Final Days]

The Multiverse is for sure wild. That's all I'll say. We've experimented with a lot more wilder concepts. I was listening to Gallifrey Time War 2 earlier today, and within the first fifteen minutes, Rassilon declared anyone who did not declare themselves allies of Gallifrey enemies. Those planets who were declared enemies were subject to invasion and the establishment of military bases, essentially altering Gallifreyan tradition into a more imperial practice. The Luofu and The Timelords coming head to head would be an extremely tense face off, especially with a late stage Rassilon who isn't taking any prisoners and isn't making any negotiations. What a ride this could be.

Freminet * The First Doctor

Who lost they fuckin' GRAMMA???? cRAZY THREAD. This was just on here because I thought it would be extremely funny. The First Doctor and Freminet meet and through circumstances that align them, they start workig together. As a grandmother and a parental figure, she acts instinctively like just Mom the entire thread and there's a natural forming parental relationship that forms across the short thread. It's just a sweet little antics-driven thread that is full of laughs and heartfelt moments.

Dan Heng * The War Master

 For this thread we just entirely imply that Lunaetis/Hina is The Trailblazer for both our muses. The reason I mention that is because The Master absolutely fucks with Dan Heng the whole time just because Dan Heng is friends with The Trailblazer. During a routine Astral Express mission, Dan Heng comes across The Master's Time War incarnation. He's up to his nefarious schemes and because The War Master is just a Jacobi-exuding charismatic jack-the-ripper pyschopath, he just absolutely torments Dan Heng the entire thread. Maybe passively, like getting him into situations that overwhelm him and doing nothing to help at all. It starts that way, but then descends into utter maddess. Dan Heng makes it out alive, but The War Master is out there... and things are only going to get worse for the rest of the universe.

[dionadaiiraaa]

I AM OF THE SUN AND I CANNOT BE ENSNARED.

{ GODSPOUSED } private / mutually exclusive multi-fandom MULTIMUSE

( low activity )

loved by { JACKIE }  30+ / MT / SHE/HER / Discord given upon request.

BIO • MEME TAG • PINTEREST • SPOTIFY PLAYLIST • EDITS

{ PINNED POST }

blogroll: @oakthcrn

Guidelines under the cut!

1. Hi, My name is JACKIE and my pronouns are She / Her. I am 30+ and work full time. I work full time and so my presence on the dash may vary. Discord is available on request.

MINORS. DO NOT INTERACT. IF YOU ARE A MINOR, I WILL SOFT/BLOCK YOU. I WILL NOT INTERACT WITH ANYONE UNDER THE AGE OF 20.

2. My muses are original characters, and will be headcanon based with media influences. He is multi fandom, multi verse. All my graphics and headcanons belong to me. Do not steal them.

3. I do write smut, however, I only write it with people I’ve interacted with for a while and my smut goes under Read More on tumblr or it will be on discord in private. Anything of a sexual nature will be tagged

“ cw nsfw “ or nsft or tw nsft

4. I am more than happy to have asks be turned into threads. All I ask is to move the ask to a text post. I will not rp directly from the ask. It’s just too clunky looking for me. Do not reblog/like threads you are not involved with. Personals, do not interact. If you do, you will be blocked on sight.

5. Please do not bring drama or politics to me. This is a place for me to escape from the real world. if i’m doing something actively harmful please tell me. Shoot me a message.

6. Eden is a private, mutual exclusive blog. This means I will only interact with muses that I follow. I am considered low activity and may not post everyday.

I AM NOT A REBLOG SOURCE. DONT REBLOG THINGS FROM ME.

7. I am oc friendly and encourage ocs to interact, however, there must be a bio page for your oc. Please don’t take it personally if I don’t connect with your oc. Not everyone is going to have chemistry.

8. I will tag triggers and squeaks. If you have a specific one, please message me so I can appropriate tags. The only thing that I don’t like seeing is furry nsfw and images of excessive gore.

9. I don’t do drama. Don’t drag me into it. I don’t care about it. I will make my own choice of who I rp with. That being said, if you are racist/homophoic/misogynist -- other words if you’re a cunt, I will not tolerate you and block you. Be nice to each other, it’s not a hard concept. Do not bring drama to me. I will not engage.

10. I am not consistent with my activity so please do not pester me for replies. I don’t mind a gentle nudge every once in a while, because let’s face it, I get easily distracted or I forget. Ims and Discord are strictly for mutuals only.

11. There may be shipping on this blog. I only ship with chemistry .Eden is bisexual.

12. If I follow you, it means that I can see us potentially writing together. If after a week and you have not followed me, no worries. I will unfollow. I like to keep my dash clean for my own mental health. I will not follow you / block you if you use Amber Heard as a face claim. Also, this blog is anti JKR.

13. All I ask if you unfollow me is that you softblock me, so I am not following you. If you block me, please block me on all my blogs so I don’t accidentally interact with you.

[musical-shit-show]

i want your midnights

Pairing: Dewey Finn x Reader

Inspiration: sequel to waste my time, #17 (“you’re the only person i want to be with tonight”) and #39 (“don’t blame me. you know what you signed up for.”) from Prompt List #2

Warnings: cursing, angst, alcohol consumption, suggestive dialogue (?), anxiety, fluff at the end

Word Count: 3,229

Author’s Note: Last one shot of 2022! This is a sequel to waste my time, which I really enjoyed writing and thought it warranted a part 2. And, since it’s New Year’s Eve, I thought it’s only fitting to get this out tonight. Thanks to everyone who’s left such nice messages over the past year! I hope to continue to write more in 2023, and already have some things in the works. As always, check out my Masterlist, About Me page, and Prompt Lists if you want to submit a request! Everyone have a safe and Happy New Year!

Hooking up with Dewey Finn certainly had its perks. How could it not? You could hardly keep your hands off each other for weeks, and the secrecy only enhanced the experience. As promised, he had kept his mouth shut since that fateful Halloween party, and you two were able to convince your friends that you had simply called a truce on your years-long feud. Convince everyone but Patty, that was.

“No way,” she said, the day after the Halloween when you met her for a debriefing brunch, “What did he give you? Money? As if he had any…” She lifted her Irish coffee to her lips, smirking at her own snotty comment.

“No, no,” you said, feeling yourself get slightly annoyed at her dig, “We just…talked. He’s really not that bad, as it turns out. I know it’s different for you, but—”

Patty waved her hand, shooing your explanation away nonchalantly, “Don’t even worry about it. I had a feeling this would happen…” she mused, stirring her drink. Your heart skipped a beat, “Everyone loves Dewey anyways. Plus, Ned will be thrilled.”

You chuckled, breathing a small sigh of relief. As far as she knew, you and Dewey were nothing more than amicable. “Yeah well, he really did me a solid last night. Never imagined Dewey Finn would be good for helping with an anxiety attack, but I kinda owe him one.” Patty grabbed your hand lightly, comforting you.

“That is…actually really cool of him. And hey, maybe if you guys are friends, you’ll rub off on him. Maybe suggest he do some chores every once in a while?” She was teasing of course, but you could feel your pulse quickening again; the thought of actually hanging around Dewey made you nervous now.

You had no idea how you felt about him, and the most you two shared up to that point was a touchy makeout session on that damn fire escape the night before. All you knew was that it was in your best interest to stay away until you could figure out what was going on with your emotions.

That was almost two months ago.

And yet, you spent all your time with Dewey and no time at all figuring out your godforsaken feelings. You didn’t have much time to intellectualize your emotions with Dewey whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he pinned you against your mattress. The very thought of him in your bed sent your brain into a tailspin, so you had elected to be completely avoidant.

As far as you were concerned, you enjoyed his company and he was a great lay.

That was it.

Or rather, that’s what you told yourself at least. Having your mind lie to you was easier than letting your heart tell you the truth.

Besides, you quite liked the idea of a friends with benefits setup. It took at least a little bit of the pressure off, though it didn’t stop you from taking the piss every once in a while.

“Really stretching that definition of ‘friends’ huh, Finn?” you remembered asking him. The two of you were lying in bed one night, the streetlight outside your bedroom window shooting streaks of light across your entangled bodies. He smiled and shook his head, his shaggy mop of hair bouncing at the slightest movement.

“Well, what else would you call it?” he traced his fingers along your collarbone, where he had left a conspicuous trail of love bites that you would almost certainly have to cover up the next day. You didn’t have an answer in the moment, or as time passed. Despite loving the initial thrill of sneaking around with Dewey of all people, your situation grew more precarious with each passing day, and it was eating away at you.

Yes, Dewey was your friend now, but what if you told him how you felt and he didn’t feel the same way? What if he didn’t want to be friends anymore? And how would that affect your relationship with Ned and Patty?

And oh god, Patty. How would she feel if she found out you’ve been sleeping with her freeloader roommate with a hidden heart of gold? You were practically hanging by a thread.

Suddenly, you found yourself at the end of the calendar year, with Dewey on your couch stroking your hair absentmindedly as your head rested in his lap, a forgettable movie playing in the background. It was so domestic it almost made you sick.

“You coming to this New Year’s thing tomorrow night?” Dewey asked sleepily, the light from the TV reflecting off his face. He was drawing circles and swirls on your scalp, the sensation both tingling and relaxing you all at once.

“Yeah, of course,” you said, stretching your arms above your head and pinching his nose playfully, “I think Patty would kill me if I didn’t bring my famous champagne Jell-O shots.” Dewey let out an involuntary shudder.

“Oh, be sure to keep those away from me. I can’t have a repeat of last year.”

You smiled softly, remembering how different your relationship was only a year prior. You wondered if your past self would even believe the position you found yourself in now before finally muttering, “Duly noted.”

You and Dewey had both learned quickly to sit in silence comfortably with one another, but this one was different. You could feel a sort of tension that was new, unfamiliar.

“Maybe…” he said, now tracing swirls on your temple, “Maybe we could go together? If you want?”

Your heart nearly skipped a beat.

“I don’t know, Dew…” you trailed off, sitting up and pulling yourself away from his embrace, “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“Not in the slightest,” he joked, sitting up to meet your gaze, “But I don’t care anymore.” He tried to scoot closer to you, but you felt yourself retract from his touch.

“Well, I do,” you heard your voice harden, “Look, this thing we have going, it’s good. I don’t want to mess it up by—”

“What? Telling the truth? Come on, we don’t have to pretend anymore. I like you. A lot. And I thought you liked me.”

For a moment, you were stunned into silence. Dewey was usually pretty easygoing, especially when it came to your arrangement. Which turned his confession into even more of a gut-punch.

Your eyes met his again, which sported a pained expression, “It wouldn’t work between us. I thought we both understood that.”

“Oh, come on, screw that!” he replied, standing up, “I know we didn’t get along before but…things are different now. At least I thought they were.”

Your heart was screaming at you to stop, to tell Dewey how you really felt, to go to this stupid party together and not worry about what other people thought. But you couldn’t do it. You were too scared of what would happen if you two were together for real.

Sure, superficially you worried about Ned and Patty; You knew deep down that they’d get over it pretty quickly. No, you were worried about falling even harder Dewey than you already had, only to eventually screw it up for yourself.

Better to end it before it starts.

You clenched your jaw, a mixture of sadness and anger overtaking your face, “Don’t blame me. You know what you signed up for.” You half expected him to argue with you, but he didn’t look angry at all; his chestnut eyes were glazed over with hurt. “Dew, I—”

You wanted to say you were sorry, that you didn’t mean it, that you could go to this stupid party together. But nothing came out. And before you could let it, Dewey had already started gathering his things to leave.

All you could do was sit in awkward silence before he spoke, his voice tremoring, “Just for the record, I think it would’ve worked between us. Really sucks that you don’t see that, I guess.”

“Dewey—” you felt yourself standing up, tears in your eyes.

“No, I,” he sighed, running his fingers through his unruly hair, “I should go. I’ll…see you around.” He opened and shut the door with finality, the sound of his footsteps reverberating down the hall, the echo deafening.

***

“Well hello, hot stuff!” Patti greeted you at her door as pop music blared behind her. You plastered on the widest smile you could muster, a tray of Jell-O shots balancing on your hand. The party was in full swing, and you could already feel your heart pounding in your chest.

You hadn’t the faintest idea if Dewey would be there. You tried to call him and explain, but it went straight to voicemail; you tried texting him, but he left you on read. You were surprised you didn’t get frostbite from the cold shoulder he was giving you.

After setting the shots down on the kitchen counter, you scanned the room intently, hoping to see a familiar mess of brown hair somewhere in the crowd. You deflated when you didn’t see him, and Patty noticed immediately as she handed you a sparkly plastic cup. You felt gold glitter stick to your fingers immediately.

“Festive,” you commented, swirling the champagne cocktail until a tiny vortex of liquid formed. You took a swig, the sweetness making your throat burn on the way down. ‘Please, God, let me get drunk tonight’ you thought, your eyes darting towards the front door each time it opened.

“Okay, what the hell is wrong with you?” Patty inquired, her tone only slightly annoyed, “I thought we were gonna have fun at this party.”

You sighed, setting the drink on the countertop, “I know, I’m sorry. I just…I want to. I have a lot on my mind and—”

“You have to tell me what’s going on,” she persisted, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve been acting weird.” Damn her and her perceptiveness. Before you could get a word out, you felt hot tears welling in your eyes.

“It’s Dewey.”

Patty blinked stupidly. You cursed yourself for blurting out his name, and you were even more ashamed that you had been lying to your best friend for months.

“Dewey?” she repeated, letting out an incredulous laugh, “Why do you even care if he shows up, I mean I know you guys called a ceasefire, but—”

“Can we just go to your room and talk?” you choked out, feeling more claustrophobic by the second, “Please?”

In that moment, Patty’s eyes widened in realization. Your crying, eyeing the doorway, mentioning Dewey Finn of all people as the source of your turmoil. It finally clicked.

“Oh…my god.”

“I’m sorry, I should’ve told you—”

“Oh my god.”

Patty practically dragged you to her and Ned’s room, slamming the door behind her. You could feel your hands getting clammy, the thought of a fight ensuing making you break out into a cold sweat. You envisioned shouting, tears of betrayal, a final angry goodbye…it was too much for your hummingbird heart to take.

“You’re in love with him.”

Now it was time for you to be taken aback. You furrowed your brow at her, trying to make sense of your best friend’s words.

“What?”

“You’re in love with Dewey,” she repeated, smiling. Never in your life had you seen Patty talk about Dewey while smiling. “I can’t believe I didn’t see this coming…”

“Wait, wait,” you sat on her bed, feeling your heart rate slow only slightly, “You’re not mad?”

Patty sat down next to you, throwing her arm over your shoulder, “Oh honey,” she said in a tone that was far too sweet for your liking, “I’m not mad. I’m furious. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”

You let out a dry laugh, “No, I mean, you’re not mad that it’s…Dewey?”

She shook her head, and your eyes widened in disbelief, “As much as he is a pain in the ass, I kinda saw this coming. Ever since after Halloween, really. I just didn’t think you’d be this head over heels for him.”

Feeling your entire body get hot with chagrin, you gave her a playful push away from you, “I’m not head over heels for him.”

“Oh, you so are.”

And then the realization dawned on you, hitting like a ton of bricks. You had been in denial for weeks, really ever since that first night on the fire escape.

You were in love with Dewey Finn.

And you were certain he never wanted to speak to you again.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said, tears starting to well in your eyes, “I fucked it up, P. I got scared and I pushed him away.”

You shoved your head into your hands, feeling utterly defeated. How could you have possibly been so stupid? You had the chance to be together, really together, but once again the cold grip of your anxiety overtook you the moment you felt yourself getting too close.

Pulling yourself out of your shame spiral, you noticed a devilish glint in Patty’s eye. “What?” you asked, a little scared of what she’d say next. She was usually the practical one; seeing her scheme was a bit unnerving.

 “Hold on, I’ll be right back.”

***

“Hey bud, where you at? This party could really use a case or two more of beer.” Dewey heard his best friend say over the phone, his voice fighting against the rowdy party that was happening in their apartment.

Dewey took another swig of his beer before responding, “Oh, hey man, yeah…I’m out.” The dive bar he had chosen for the evening was surprisingly empty, with only a few other lonely souls, “And I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to come back right now. I’m sorry.”

“Why not? Everyone is here—”

“I know. They aren’t the problem, I just…I have to tell you something.”

He then proceeded to tell Ned about everything – Halloween, the weeks since, your fight – practically all in one breath. It was killing him that he hadn’t told his best friend about the two of you, so it wasn’t difficult for him to start spilling his guts.

“I’m so sorry, dude,” he said, stepping out of the bar to catch his breath and get some fresh air, “I know I should’ve told you I just, I didn’t want to screw it up. But clearly she doesn’t feel the same way about me, so—”

“Dewey, I love you,” Ned said as he looked over at Patty, who had already relayed everything you had told her, “But you are the world’s biggest idiot.” Dewey blinked on the other side of the phone, taken aback by Ned’s uncharacteristic bluntness. “Just, get over here.”

Dewey shook his head, confused, “Wait, what’s going on—?” but before he could finish his sentence, the line went dead. He huffed, his breath appearing in the cold December night.

There was a part of him that told him to stay at the bar, sit in a booth by himself, and wait for the year to be over alone. But something else in him, something stronger, was telling him to listen to Ned and get back to the apartment. Because he knew you’d be there, and this might’ve been his last chance to make things right.

Before he realized it, he was walking home, his pace quickening as the wind stung his face. He dodged hordes of people crowd the city streets who were all ringing in the new year. His mind flashed to Ned’s request for more provisions; he honestly couldn’t bring himself to care.

As he climbed the stairs, he could hear the excited voices wafting from underneath the doorframe. Luckily, he was able to slip in relatively unnoticed since he had no alcohol to provide. He scanned the room for you, and spotted you the couch, nervously picking at your nails.

“Uh, hi.”

Looking up, your heart dropped when you saw Dewey, who gave you a small, awkward wave. “Oh my fucking god…I’m gonna kill Patty.” He chuckled lightly, and you stood up, wiping your hands on your skirt.

“You look…nice.” He choked out, the tension of your fight still hanging heavily between you. “Thank you,” you replied, your eyes darting to the floor. You were desperate for an escape plan. “I, uh, should probably get going though.”

You brushed past him to grab your coat, which Ned had haphazardly thrown into Dewey’s room. Perfect.

Dewey leaned against the doorframe, watching you tear through the pile of parkas. “Before midnight?” he said while following you in, “Come on, I knew you were a wet blanket but—”

“Please, just…just don’t.” you cut him off, your voice faltering. Dewey always tried to make light of a situation, but right now, he was only making you feel worse about blowing him off.

Before you could stop yourself, you heard your voice ringing in your head, “I…I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, I just, I’m scared, okay? And I fucked it royally, so, seeing you here when I know that I can’t fix things, it’s just, it’s too much for me.”

“Hang on,” Dewey crossed his arms over his chest, a sad smile on his face, “who said we can’t fix things?”

“What?” you felt tears welling in your eyes, “I thought you didn’t want to see me again?” Without thinking, Dewey stepped closer to you, wiping a stray tear from your face. The small, intimate act made your pulse quicken.

“I didn’t, at first,” he said, his gaze soft, “But then I remembered your smile, and your laugh, and the way that you can argue with me about anything under the sun and I still find myself wanting to spend the whole day with you. You drive me insane, babe, but I couldn’t care less. I thought by storming out like a complete moron, I’d ruined any chance I had with you.”

In an act of impulsiveness, you grabbed his hand, entwining your fingers with his. Never in a million years did you think you’d be in this position, but Dewey’s words were enough to make you bolder than you ever imagined.

“I…don’t know what to say,” you said quietly, “Other than that…well, the last couple months have been some of the best I’ve had in years. And, you’re the reason why, Dew. You’re the only person I want to be with tonight and, well, I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you.”

Before you knew it, Dewey had picked you up, spinning you around as his laugh filled your ear. You instantly got butterflies, and when he set you down, his smile could’ve lit up the entire city.

“You won’t,” he said, “It looks like we don’t have anything to hide anymore.” You grinned back at him, a small giggle escaping from your throat. “So,” he continued, “I take it Patty knows?”

You nodded, “Yep,” you slipped your hand into his again, his grip comforting, “I don’t know what happened, but she’s…cool with it.”

“Well good,” he said, “Because I’m not letting you get away this time. I’m gonna annoy you as long as you’ll let me.” You kissed him softly, finally feeling lighter than air. The two of you stepped back into the party, finally excited for what the new year might bring.

***

thanks for reading! please like/comment/reblog if you enjoyed!