#I haven’t written for this man in a minute >o>

[mrs-han]

“Jumin.”

Your husband’s brows scrunched.

“Jumin.”

He groaned, sleep ever present as he opened his heavy-lidded eyes. “Yes, my love.”

You shook off the urge to jump on him. His morning voice, velvety and rich, resulted in hours of morning sex. Which ultimately led to…

“Where’s the baby, Jumin.”

His eyes opened a little more. “Hm?”

You masked your smile with a menacing pose, hands firmly on your hips and feet shoulder-width apart. “Don’t you hm me, where is our baby.”

Your husband didn’t answer you. Instead, he lifted the cotton blanket and draped it over his shoulder.

“You did not just try to ignore me,” you laughed, tugging the blanket away from him.

Jumin’s hand moved over a head of messy black hair. The pink cheeks of your firstborn toddler were all you could see, as the rest of them lay hidden in Jumin’s arms.

You shook your head, hopeful that you seemed more disappointed than amused. “Jumin, we talked about this. She needs to sleep in her big-girl bed. Otherwise, she’ll get too attached to you and expect this every night.”

“What is so wrong with that?” Jumin pressed his daughter to his chest.

“Jumin.”

“Shhh. You’ll wake her up.” Tender as always, Jumin’s touch seemed to deepen the toddler’s sleep as drool coursed from her mouth and down her cheek. “She’s growing up far too quickly, my love. When will I ever be able to do this again?”

“Jumin.” You smiled. “You’ll be able to hold her before her first day of school, and when her first tooth falls out. And when her first partner breaks her heart.”

Jumin turned his head sharply, his eyes dark and menacing. “No. No, she won’t be able to date until she is in her mid-to-late forties.”

“Wh — Jumin, we met when you were twenty-seven and I was twenty-two!”

“Mid-to-late forties.”

“Give her to me,” you sighed, arms outstretched. “You need to be up in another hour anyway, don’t you?”

Your husband didn’t resort to child-like tendencies often, but his drawn-out groan reminded you that he was still a big kid at heart. And a brat. “I’ll take her, don’t worry.”

Your protests would have fallen on deaf ears. With little effort, Jumin lifted and cradled the sleeping tot close to his chest, his gaze upon her steadfast. It made your heart race and start having thoughts of making another baby with him. How lucky you were, to have a man so attentive to your child…

And to you. While you stayed lost in thought, Jumin’s hand moved to lift your chin. Your eyes met his. “What is it?”

“I love you.” His hand moved to cup your cheek, a thumb pressed against your lips.

Feeling confident and overwhelmed by sensations of desire, you pressed a kiss to the pad of his thumb. Then, against the palm of his hand.

His hand moved quickly from your face to the curve of your back. You responded in kind, an arm thrown over his neck. The meeting of your lips wasn’t soft or supple, as it had usually been. It was rough and painful, teeth knocking against teeth.

You winced — he dug his fingers into the folds of your skin. He pulled away to recover — you didn’t give him the satisfaction. Your hand on the back of his neck, you kissed him again, tongue caressing the gentle indent of his Cupid’s bow.

Jumin smiled, unable to get any kisses in because of your enthusiasm. “Darling, not in front of the baby.”

“Oh my God, the baby is still here.” Mortified, you tried to take a step back.

But Jumin’s fingers dug deeper into your skin. “I’ll repay you if you’d like to join me for lunch.”

“I’ll meet you at your office,” you blushed, hand against his chest and lips pressed against his once more. “Wow, we have horrible morning breath.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jumin teased, fingers pinching a piece of your loose skin. “I’ll put her to bed, now.”

“Okay,” you beamed, watchful of his stride and aware of the trail of drool coming from your daughter’s mouth. Just as you moved to clean it up, the rustle of sheets caught your attention. Rustle, then silence.

“… Jumin, don’t you think about sleeping in the big-girl bed with her!”

A long pause followed by a loud sigh confirmed your suspicions. Jumin sulked his way out of the room, a dejected pout on his lips. “Yes, dear.”

[ladymacbeth-writes-sometimes]

You get pissed off with Daryl for putting himself in danger. He fixes it.

First time posting any writing so my apologies for the shit everything.

598 words of poorly written smut that isn’t proofread and was written in forty minutes.

I will regret posting this.

Daryl had done it again.

You were pissed -beyond pissed- when Rick let it slip that he and your boyfriend had come close to dying at the hands of the Saviours again because Daryl refused to stay safely behind the Hilltop’s walls. You didn’t give a shit how much Rick needed his help getting guns to pay that bitch with the shit haircut; Negan wouldn’t kill Rick. The psychotic bastard wanted to torture Alexandria’s leader and needed him alive to do so, but you couldn’t be sure that his twisted desires extended to Daryl.

“Jesus, girl,” Daryl says, holding his arms in front of his face as you throw a plethora of household objects at him. “Calm down, will ya?” When you throw one of Gregory’s hardcover books you stole at his head -a copy of War and Peace that probably could kill a man- he grabs your wrists. “You’ve ‘ad yer fun.”

You kick at him when he shoves you onto the couch, nicking his calf. Unsurprisingly, the handsome bastard didn’t even flinch, just crossing his arms while waiting for you to stop your temper tantrum. “Do you have a death wish?” you demand.

“‘M ‘live, ain’t I?”

“Barely.”

“We took care o’ them. Negan ain’t gettin’ no information from a bunch of dead men.”

“He’ll know it’s you, Dar.” He says nothing and, annoyed at his nonchalance, you stand up and punch him. Try to, at least. You fought well, but someone of his size had no goddamn right to be so fucking quick. Daryl flips you onto your stomach, pinning you to the couch.

“Ya know what’s wrong with ya?” he asks, pulling your pants down to your ankles. “S’that you ain’t had a good fuckin’ since I got back, hmm? Would some dick make ya feel better?”

You struggle against him, though you have no intention of getting away. “I’d feel better if you stopped trying to get yourself killed!”

He roughly spanks your ass, making you squeal and squirm more. “Wet, ain’t ya?” he teases, rubbing your soaked folds. “Poor little pussy’s so empty ya can’t even think straight.”

“Stop it,” you say. “I’m annoyed with you.”

“I know, baby. I’ma fix it.” The stretch is divine when he shoves in, bordering on painful due to his size and the lack of prep. “Say ‘thank ya’, girl,” he orders. “Tell me how grateful ya are tha’ I’m makin’ ya feel better.”

“Daryl,” you plead. He doesn’t move, torturing you until you give into his demands. “Thank you! Goddammit, Daryl!”

You can almost feel him smirking. He never smiled more than he did when he was giving you his cock. “Tha’ didn’t sound very grateful. Say it ‘gain.” For further encouragement, he angles his hips so that he hits your g-spot just right. The hand that isn’t pinning you down snakes under your body to toy with your clit..

“Okay! Okay! Thank you, Daryl. Thank you.”

“Tha’ll do.” He starts rutting into you, roughly sliding in and out of your slick pussy. “Good little pussy, takin’ me so well.”

It’s almost embarrassing how close you are to your peak already. In your defense, the man fucks like a god, and you get wet just looking at him.

Bastard.

He toys with your clit and you peak hard, hardly noticing him biting your shoulder as he climaxes with you. “Feelin’ better, girl?” he asks, fastening his pants back up.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you want a quickie every time you’re about to go on a run. I’m still mad at you.”

“I’ll live, sweetheart.”

[luvelve]

how i think my husbands seungcheol, wonwoo, and mingyu would react when you reach your climax

࿐ seungcheol

- he’d see your face crinkle in pleasure and he’d be soooo turned on by it that his face unknowingly mimicks your expression a bit too.

- he’d be mumbling sweet sweet praise. “fuck, that’s it princess, let it go. only i can make you feel like this, yeah? you’re so pretty like this baby, so so good for me.”

- smoothes out the hair from your face and gets drunk seeing your dazed post-climax eyes. he takes a few moments to just look at you, his pace slow and steady and his face in line with yours, just admiring you.

- he waits for you to fully come down from your high. he kisses you before he bullies his length again into you but deeper, apologizing in between thrusts for being so rough but he knows you can take it. he finishes himself off a few minutes later and cleans you up right after

࿐ wonwoo

- he watches your face with intent because he knows you’re about to cum. his free hand flies down to rub circles on your clit, stimulating you even more. your climax hits you like a truck, your vision goes white and you feel fireworks shoot all the way down to your feet, and you’re gripping onto wonwoo’s biceps

- he stops once your body writhes in pleasure and he suppresses your breathy moans by kissing you. your eyes are closed shut the entire time he kisses you but wonwoo opens his eyes moments in between the kiss because he can’t miss out on just how pretty you look all blissed out

- you open your eyes a few moments later and wonwoo’s trailing kisses down your body, not even caring about himself finishing anymore. he’s tracing your body in sweet and wet kisses but you’re still a bit sensitive and so your body jerks when he kisses in between your thighs. and the goddamn fool just smiles. “i’m sorry, my love.” how dare he

࿐ mingyu

- he’d be so enamored by you, seeing your back leave the bed and your mouth forming a small ‘o’. mingyu falls in love with you all over again and he can’t believe he’s able to do this to you

- you haven’t even come down from your high and he’s said “i love you” a million times already. cannot stress how much this six foot something man is so head over heels for you

- wraps his arm around your waist because he wants to be as close to you as possible, feeling the warmth of your skin and hearing your heart beat. “can’t get enough of you.”

- he loves the way you’re pulsating and squeezing around his cock that he can’t help but bury his face into the crook of your neck. he’s not thrusting into you but instead he just stays there because the feeling you’re giving him is enough already. now the both of you are making lewd and breathy noises that you’ll have to apologize to the neighbors for in the morning

a/n: this is probably the fastest thing i’ve ever written. if there are any typos or errors in this pls look away. i hope this is any good btw bc idk what got in me to write this buuuut yes as always, likes/reblogs/feedback are highly highly appreciated :>

[nice-meanie]

Lucifer Morningstar helping overworked s/o

A/N: I haven’t written in a while so im trying to get back into it again. Don’t be scared to shoot over a request - especially not for our fav short king

1.2k - Lucifer Morningstar x reader (Hazbin Hotel)

Warnings: fluff, very sweet, already established relationship

Overworked s/o gets some comfort and love from our all-time favourite Lucifer.

You walked to the hotel door with a painful ache in your neck. All the sitting around, reading documents and arguing with some wanna-be rich people about car prices made your neck and shoulders sore. With slumped shoulders and an annoyed look, you stumble into the newly rebuilt hotel. Greeting you with a beaming smile, Charlie hopped over to you:

“Hey y/n, are you ready for a team-building exercise of trust and friendship? Now that you are finished with work, you can join us!!!”

“Sorry, not today Char Char. It was an exhausting day at work”

Normally you loved helping out Charlie in the hotel and talking to the others, but today you just wanted to go die for the secound time on the couch. You shot a quick smile and waved at Lucifer, who smiled back with slight pity noticing your tired deminer.

You walked up the neverending set of stairs, which seemed to just get longer and longer. After finally reaching your and Lucifer’s bedroom you fumbled with your keys in your pocket and opened the door. You walked to the bedroom and clumsily opened the door. Seeing the sweat relief of the king-sized bed, you flopped your tired body on it and let out an aching moan. You looked around the room, letting your eyes glide over the hotel room, which was more like a small one-bedroom apartment. It seemed like the concept of time had disappeared. Everything began to feel like a blur and your brain got foggy from the exhaustion. Minutes felt like hours in your trance-like state, when you heard a small klick coming from the door. You couldn’t be bothered to pick up your head let alone your body, so you just slowly rolled your eyes in the direction of the sound waiting for the bedroom door to be opened. You thought it was someone who came to check up on you or even worse, ask you for a favour so you presumptuously let out an annoyed huff. What you didn’t expect was to see Lucifer at the foot of the door, opening it slowly and carefully as if not to wake up a newborn baby. Seeing your lovely partner made your heart flutter and a barely visible smile crept up on your face despite your crushed state.

Seeing hell’s King sneak around your bedroom to not wake you if you were asleep had something heartwarming about it. This gave you enough strength to barely pull yourself from your lying position into a sitting one, letting one of your legs dangle off of the edge of the bed while the other was resting on the bed folded near your body. A silent “oh shit” echoed through the room as your boyfriend walked up to you and sat next to you on the bed.

“I’m sorry honey. Did I wake you?”

“No, no, not at all. I was just… resting on the bed”

“You look beaten, are you alright? You need to start watching out for yourself more. I mean, no one should be this tired. What if someone attacked you and you were too overworked to fight back?!”

You chuckled at your worried man and let your head fall on the shoulder pad of his pearl-white suit. He tensed up from the sudden touch but quickly relaxed. His hand found their way to your hair stroking your head gently. He carefully lifted your head to remove his jacket and hat and threw them on the bed to make his shoulder more comfortable to lie on.

“It was a loooooong day. First, some overlord was pissy that the price of a car he wanted to buy went up and wanted to bargain it down. As if that wasn’t bad enough some imp came to argue that his insurance won’t cover the car damages after he tried to transport two horses and a hellhound in his minivan. He just wouldn’t understand how the insurance couldn’t cover the damages his fiasco made on the car!”

“I don’t understand why you keep doing this to yourself y/n! I mean you come home being tired to death after your job. Why don’t you just stay and work in the hotel? We’ve got plenty to get done so you won’t be out of work!”

“Luci, I can’t. I know my job has some downsides, but I’ve always loved cars. They are the only good memories I have left from Earth. I’m fine”

You said the last sentence through your teeth. You knew you weren’t fine and so did Lucifer, but you still tried to reassure him. He sighed and decided to let this argument go. He was worried sick from you working yourself to the bone and wanted to take your pain away, but he also knew that you were stubborn and wouldn’t listen to him. So he decided to take care of you once again. His hand crept up to your cheek replacing it with his shoulder and carefully slid behind you on the bed. You melted into his touch, savouring every last drop of love and affection he gave you. You moaned from dissatisfaction when the support of his shoulder was gone, but were nicely surprised by his hands gliding to your neck and shoulders and massaging them. You hummed at the release of tension in your muscles and let your head fall backwards with shut eyes. Lucifer couldn’t help but kiss your forehead gently flashing a smile at your satisfied face. Your eyes fluttered open and he let his hands slide lower across your whole back running circles. His fingertips and nails tickled your back. The painful fog in your brain started to lift and be replaced with gentle love. While savouring hell’s boss’ touch he snaked his hands behind your neck and legs picking you up effortlessly startling you. Your hands clutched onto his chest. It is still surprising how easily he can pick you up despite you being taller.

Carefully he walked over into the other room while you let your head rest on his body trying to get as close to him as possible as if you were afraid to lose him. While setting you down on the couch you cluched his arms almost anxiously.

“Hey, it’s ok. I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere.”

You loosened your grip and sat up letting him slip behind you on the backrest of the couch. Lucifer kissed the top of your head letting you fall in his touch once more and resting your body between his legs. His hands slipped into your hair once more scratching your scalp softly and peppering your head with soft kisses. Taking care of you. Slowly you felt the stress of the day lifting. His hand slid over to your chin and pulled your face up. His back bent down and he planted a soft kiss on your lips. You let yourself get lost in the kiss and reached up to his head placing your hands on the side of his head pulling Lucifer deeper into the kiss. His golden hair tickled the tips of your fingers making you smile into the kiss. After pulling away your boyfriend gave you a gentle look and kissed your nose making you giggle softly.

“I love you y/n”

“I love you too Lucifer”

[lowkeyremi]

Hi ! I was wondering if you could make a drabble about how how Kuroo would comfort his S/O who's going through art writer block ?

Have a nice day/night and take care !

I’VE GOT YOU !

pairing: kuroo x impliedfem!reader note: As someone going through normal writers block this is absolutely perfect. Thank you for this request!! content: relationships, fluff, reader kind of loses hope, angst to comfort, reassuring words. wc: 530 words (sorry this is so short!! My brain refuses to work with me)

banner by: dollywons

Another frustrated groan leaves your lips, while you stare at your blank screen. 45 minutes ago ideas were flowing through your head like crazy. Sketches, rough drafts, and even some abstract ideas to get your brain working, but as soon as you booted up your drawing app on your computer and turned on your drawing tablet, your mind went completely blank.

Your hand would not move an inch, you didn’t even try to pick up your stylus pen. “Please brain work with me,” you moan in horror.

Of course your brain doesn’t listen and starts thinking about all the other things you could possibly be doing right now.

“I’ll try again later,” You set the stylus pen down on your desk. It wouldn’t hurt to scroll on tiktok for a little while…

Unfortunately all the videos that come up on your feed are art related. It’s so confusing, you’re itching to draw something but you don’t know what.

As if Kuroo could read your thoughts, he slowly walks into the office with a plate of half burnt cookies. He’s never been good at baking, but he can cook pretty well.

“How’s it going, darling?” He sets the plate down on the empty space on your desk.

“That’s the thing, it’s not going.” He notices your distress, so warm hands with years of blocking experience rub your back in soothing circles.

“I’m sure something will come to you.” Instead of leaving the room, he pulls his office chair over the your desk to join you.

“I have ideas, it’s just I don’t know, Tetsu, I can’t- I don’t- oh my god I can’t even talk.” Embarrassment floods within your body in mere seconds. You bring your legs up onto your chair and hug them into your chest.

“You have ideas, but you can’t or don’t know how to execute them properly?” How does he know exactly what you’re thinking?

“Exactly, I really do want to draw, but my mind goes blank every time I try to do so. It’s like I lost my spark.” He reaches for a half burnt cookie, wincing a little bit when it crunches in his mouth.

“You haven’t lost anything, you’re still the most talented artist I know. I believe that maybe this is a sign that you need to take a break. When you come back you’ll make the most amazing art ever like EVER.” His words encourage you enough to look him in the eyes,

“You really think so?”

“Oh baby, I know so.” The smile he breaks into is the exact same one you fell in love with.

“Hey wait, let me get some pictures of you for reference photos.” His smile turns into his famous smirk that everyone knows him by.

“Oh? Gonna sketch your amazingly handsome husband?” He puffs out his chest with pride.

“Maybe I’ll ask Bokuto instead.” Kuroo gasps in horror like you just said you’d kill his dog.

“No!! Me! Take pictures of me.”

“Okay okay,” you say with a teasing smile.

He can be a little weird and annoying at times, but man, what would you without Kuroo Tetsuro?

©𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐊��𝐘𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈 All works are written by me! Please do not copy, translate, or upload onto other sites without my permission, thanks!

[kitsuani]

Distraction. {Nanami Kento x Reader}

Description:

A fic in which Nanami has work to do, so why is he so distracted?

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Tags: fluff, suggestive, only at the end though nothing too major, office worker nanami u deserve the world, established relationship, kissing (oh goodness,), not beta'd, not edited, gender neutral reader, jujutsu kaisen/jjk, nanami kento x reader, nanami kento

Word count: 1,950

A/N: Written on: February 27, 2024

i'm not a huge nanami fan but my sister is so why not give him love the poor man needs it,

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The only sounds in the room were the clicking of his keyboard and the ticking of the clock. The silence was welcome, as Nanami worked; typing endless lines of notes, emails, and whatever else he hadn’t managed to do throughout the day. He hated overtime—despised it, even. So why was he made to sit here and do the thing he hated the most? Was it even the thing he hated the most anymore? 

The hours drew on, and the waning sunlight was not made known to him—the blue light of the screen in front of him had drawn him in, tunnel vision, as the characters on the screen danced together in ways he didn’t know were possible. He had to push on—just a little bit more then he’d be done. Just a few more, then he’s done. Just a little more time… 

His immersion had finally broken when a hand waved in front of his face, between his nose and the screen. Nanami should have noticed their presence earlier, but he was neither scared nor disappointed. He leaned back for a moment, rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes before turning towards them with an equally exhausted smile. 

“My dear… hello.” 

“Hello? That’s all ya’ve got?” 

When he opened his eyes, his s/o had playfully gestured to the meal they had set up without his knowledge. Homemade food, napkins, utensils, and even drinks had been set up neatly, as though it were a catered affair. They spun around in the office chair they had pulled up, shouting out an equally playful cheer before making a grand gesture to their work again. 

“Welcome to dinner!” 

“Dinner?” Nanami had to quickly check his watch. “Is it that time already?” 

“It’s past that time, Kento.” (Y/n) sighed, now leaning on their elbows with their chin in their hand. “Well past it, actually. The sun’s gone.” 

Nanami looked out the windows, the skyline’s sunlight replaced by various building lights instead. It was his turn to sigh now, leaning his had back a moment why he adjusted his tie. 

“So I see.” He swallowed down his exhaustion before sitting back upright. “I’m sorry, love.” 

“It’s alright,” (Y/n) waved him off with a smile, “I know sometimes you’ve just gotta work hard. It’s not like I haven’t had a few overtimes in my life too. I appreciate all the hard work you do! But come on, eat. When was the last time you ate something?” 

Nanami shook his head and turned back to his computer screen, his fingers dashing along the keyboard once again as he dismissed the idea of a meal. 

“I need to finish this. I’ll eat after.” 

(Y/n) pouted at the rejection. They waved their hand in front of the screen again, dragging out their words. 

“Keeeeeeennnntttooooo! You need to eat!”  

When he continued working, simply ignoring their hand, they leaned back into it and pouted once more. He knew they didn’t want to do this, and assumed he was asking for it. It was time to brace himself for the guilt-trip route. 

“After all the time and effort I put in to make you dinner AND bring it to you? All nice and neat?” 

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate your effort or your gesture, (Y/n),” he instantly responded, never stopping his typing nor taking a moment to look at them, “it’s just that this needs done. I can’t be distracted and have it drag on even later than it has. I’ll join you as soon as I’m finished, I promise, dear.” 

“Pet names will not save you,” they muttered under their breath.  

Fine, they decided, they’d wait—much to Nanami’s relief. At least, that’s what he thought; after 10 minutes of silence, he could hear them impatiently strumming their fingertips on the desk, then taking the initiative to make their leg jump, bumping into the desk and causing it to shake. He tried to ignore this the best that he could, but he could easily tell that they were bumping the desk hard on purpose, attempting to move his keyboard around and get his attention. Without a word—and one hand remaining on the keyboard—he moved his free hand to grab onto the space of their thigh right above their knee, squeezing it slightly and pushing their leg until their foot was flat on the ground as a warning. Once he heard them huff, he gave their thigh a more loving squeeze before returning it to the keyboard, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly when he heard them groan slightly. 

They had begun trying everything to pull Nanami from his work. They held food up to his mouth to try and get him to at least take a bite, smashing it repeatedly against his lips when he refused, until he got tired of it and gently pushed their hand away—his eyes never leaving the screen. He could hear them whisper sweet nothings into his ear, their breath warm and tickling—which he knew they could see the slight blush creep up to them—still, he remained diligent. They moved behind him to massage his shoulders, their hands slowly, gently, teasing their way down the front of him—still, his eyes hadn’t left the screen, his hands nimbly crossing over keys all the while. (Y/n) had even tried running their fingertips up his thigh towards his lap in a desperate attempt to get his attention—only then did he pause to grab their hand and give them a warning glance for a moment before jumping back to work. 

The sigh his s/o let out was long, defeated. Nanami could feel the warmth of their fingertips drag along his jawline a moment before physically turning his face to finally look at them properly. They cupped his cheek, and he had no more control in him to fight it off; he melted into their touch, leaning into their hand as they held his head up. He gently held onto their wrist, placing a soft kiss to the space between it and the bottom of their palm. It was his turn to sigh, this time a mixture of relief, exhaustion, and defeat. Tired eyes met those holding heavy concern, but they were so soft that Nanami felt his heart stir. 

“Mimi,” their voice was gentle, quiet, just above a whisper as they used a nickname full of equal emotion, “really, are you alright? You seem distracted.” 

“You’ve successfully distracted me, yes—” 

“No,” their voice stood firm but remained as gentle as they started, “I don’t mean me. I don’t mean your work. I mean here, in your head.” 

They leaned in to give a light kiss to his forehead. Nanami looked to them with a bit of a dumbfounded gaze—distracted? In his head?  

The room around them started to quickly fade away as thoughts flew, swirled, and danced around his mind. The corners of his vision started to get more and more blurry, growing dark, until he finally could no longer see (Y/n) in front of him and saw himself instead. He saw him go through the motions, day in and day out, of mundane life. He saw himself walk through the office doors, sit at his desk, and work away until the sun had gone down—just as he had that day. He watched as his minds eye played the scene over and over again—is this really what he wanted for himself anymore? Is this all that life had to offer someone like him? 

Certainly it was better than before, right? This is what he wanted. A quiet life, a normal life, where he’s no longer concerned about throwing himself to the wolves for people in a system who only see you as dog food. He started to see a younger form of himself now, fighting things that most people could not see, trying to find where his sense of justice had gone—where his dear friends have gone. He watched as this younger self slowly lose the lights in his eyes as he lost sight of what was right, what people should have been doing to prevent all the bloodshed around him. 

As though it were reality, warm hands cup his face, and light up the darkness around him. He looked at his memories version of (Y/n), as they giggled and stepped away from him, spinning, bouncing, dancing along stepping stones of stars as they held their hand out to him, inviting him on their journey. He hopped among the stars alongside them, stumbling here and there, but always looking up to find them waiting for him with the largest, most loving smile.  

Here, he realized, was where he was meant to be. He will always have doubts about what he should do—was anything really the right choice, was anything actually what he wanted? The unmovable factor was that (Y/n) was here, with him, no matter which way the rest of his life stretched him. No matter what bruises his heart, his love was right there with star-shaped bandaids to patch him up—that was something to take comfort in; that was something to hold near and dear. 

The warmth of their hand cupped his cheek again, this time, he opened his eyes to see (Y/n), illuminated by the blue light of the screen, as beautiful to him as ever. They offered him a knowing smile, one that helped further ease his anxieties and let him finally take a nice, deep breath. He kissed the palm of their hand again, clearing his throat a bit as he eventually spoke again. 

“You’re right, I have been distracted. I was burying myself in work to run from it, I’m sorry, my love. However…” he raised his hand to brush their hair out of their face, moving to cup their cheek as well and gently smiling as they instantly melted into his touch, “I’ve found myself again. I’ll always have doubts… I’ll always worry… but with you, I suppose it’s alright to be human. It’ll be a burden for another day.” 

(Y/n) took a turn to kiss the palm of his hand this time, and gave a pure, child-like innocent smile. 

“I’m not sure what I did or what you’re talking about, but I’m glad I was able to help. I’ll always be here to help you, Kento.” 

“That you will be.”  

Reluctantly, Nanami turned from their hold and laughed a bit to himself when he heard them huff; whether it be from the loss of their intimacy or the fact he’d turned back to the computer, he would never know. He felt them lean back in and kiss his cheek lightly as he logged off for the night, the screen no longer lighting up the room.  

In the dark, he turned his head to find their lips again, easily slipping into a drunken stupor by the love they poured into their kiss. Another one, another one, another one—until he managed to laugh against their lips and start to search for his phone’s flashlight. 

“Come on. Let’s pack this up and go eat at home.” 

“Oooor…” (Y/n) had a teasing tone to their voice. “We could stay and finish up some work.” 

Nanami was quickly shushed when he attempted to voice his complaints, that after all that he’d logged off and made his choice for nothing—by tempting hands moving their ways up his thighs, a seductive tongue making its way up his throat. He cleared his throat and spoke, voice wavering, as his hands met their waist. 

“You know I don’t enjoy overtime.” 

“Don’t think of it as overtime, think of it as…. A distraction.” 

[bones4thecats]

How about a scenario with the reader x Apollo, Leonidas and Geirölul in the Barbie world?

A/N: I haven’t written for Leonidas and Geirölul yet, so I hope they aren’t too terribly OOC. I do hope you enjoy this though, Anon! Also, I haven’t watched the Barbie Movie yet, so I’ll just put them in the ‘Universe’ in general.

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

☀️ He didn’t know what the hell just happened

☀️ One minute, he was drinking some tea with his S/O, the next he’s looking at a hot pink building as you sit by him, your tea now just straight water in a plastic cup

☀️ You looked at him and shrugged your shoulders, complementing the building

☀️ Then a woman with blonde hair walked outside alongside a man with blonde hair as well, though it was a lot shorter

☀️ You stared at the woman as she ushered you both to stand, that was when you realized that these things were the Barbie and Ken

☀️ Your mouth dropped as Apollo thanked the duo, asking where they were

“ Why, you’re in Malibu, sillies. I’m Barbie and this is Ken, it’s nice to meet you! “

☀️ He feels like he’s heard that before, oh, those were the toys you were talking about getting Göll and the nymph’s children for Christmas!

☀️ Well, this was gonna be interesting…

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

🚬 Oh his poor, poor eyes

🚬 He cannot stand anything with such strong color, especially things that were remotely close to hot pink, he just hates that color

🚬 You looked at how his face contorted into disgust as the hot-pink wearing duo came running out of their house

🚬 He pulled you up and held you behind him, glaring at Ken as he stepped back in fear

🚬 Who wouldn’t fear this guy though?

🚬 Barbie smiled and shook your hand while Ken hid behind her, fearing your husband

🚬 Leonidas looked at you and back at the duo when they recommended you guys to come inside for a cup of tea

🚬 Let’s just say when you got back to Valhalla, he has a new appreciation for the color silver

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

❤️‍🔥 Geirölul was okay with hot colors because of Hlökk, but this was too much

❤️‍🔥 You and her just stood there looking at the duo of Barbie and Ken as they repeatedly asked if you both were okay

❤️‍🔥 She just replied with a stern;

“ What do you think? “

❤️‍🔥 You smiled, shook her off, and shook their hands, attempting to explain what had happened

❤️‍🔥 Geirolul eventually warmed up to the duo, as they never tried cursing at you for being with a Valkyrie

❤️‍🔥 Though, they didn’t really know anyone from a Pantheon, soooo

[intrigd-voyagr]

Scales

this has to be the fastest I have ever thought up and written a fic idea. The power of brainrot........

takes place after Sonny gets admin codes and he can come out of the puter for Periods Of Time because I said so

anyways Sonny Addie shippers come get y'all's food!! 720 wordss

Nestled in the rocky seam of a cave made home, Sonny and Addie lay entangled in each other’s embrace. They had taken up residence on Addie’s scavenged (but surprisingly comfortable) couch, and the naga in question insisted on resting atop the taller man, their face buried in his neck while they kept their arms wrapped securely around his neck. As reptiles do, they relished the steady heat his body provided – and even more so, because it was his.

Sonny offered no complaints to their demands - after all, he seriously doubted they could comfortably cuddle if the roles were reversed. Addie was… quite small compared to him.

So, he laid on his back and took them into his arms, resting his chin on their shoulder; utterly content.

---

He had been absently rubbing their back for a few minutes, though the act itself had his mind churning in thought. He had seen all of the scales on Addie’s limbs and face; there weren’t that many, but he marveled them all the same.

However, their back remained a mystery to him. As his hand traveled up and down their shirt, the multitude of concealed bumps underhand told him he was missing out on something rather special. It wasn’t long before his gnawing curiosity won in the end.

“Addie dearest, I’d very much like to examine the scales on your back a bit closer, if you’ll let me…?” He pinched the hem of their shirt to further indicate his interest, waiting for their response.

Addie locked up at the idea, the red bloom across their cheeks deepening in shade. ”Y-yeah, um…! Sure, i-if you want to, go ahead… but they’re not really… um… pretty.”

Sonny laughed into their hair, using his free hand to smooth down their locks soothingly. “Nonsense, love. There is no part of you I haven’t found breathtaking.”

And with that, he slowly and respectfully began to roll up Addie’s shirt, hiking it up as far as it would go.

He was met with a sea of iridescent scales, closely knit and running down the entire length and width of the reptilian’s back, the pattern only tapering back to skin near their neck and the base of their spine. The man was at a loss for words for a moment as he took it all in.

“My, Addie… you’re positively stunning,” He murmured, red tinting his own cheeks now. As he stared longer, though, he soon realized why Addie had said what they said. For each healthy scale, there was another that was jagged and dull, or even missing entirely, leaving only patches of scarred flesh in its place.

“Oh, my… But... What… what happened…? Some of these are... Who hurt you…?” his voice was pained, his fingers now gingerly ghosting across the most ragged ones. Addie was silent as they searched for a response.

“No one… well, I guess myself?” Addie laughed nervously, before realizing a bit more context was needed for an answer like that.

“…When we shed. Pulling the old scales off things like arms and legs are easy. But the back… is a two person job. Most people have family, or friends, or a partner to do it, but I, um… I never…” Sonny can feel their shoulders tense against him, and he’s hit with pang of sympathy.

“I just make do with what I’ve got - the walls, o-or trees… it gets itchy, so I go for whatever’s roughest, y’know? But the scales underneath are still pretty sensitive, so it also hurts…”

Sonny flattened his palm across the scales of their upper back, brows furrowing as he imagined the years of trauma each one was forced to endure by this world too cruel to spare a caring hand.

“Well,” he began, “you have a partner now. And I’ll make sure every shed is perfect from now on, and that you finally have a chance to heal. You won’t have to hurt yourself anymore. And never forget…”

He ran his hand down their spine slowly, memorizing the way each scale felt underhand - the rough, the smooth, the missing – and eventually settled himself in the small of their back, applying light pressure to hug them closer. With his other hand, he coaxed their face up so that their eyes met. He then leaned in close, pressing his forehead to theirs.

“You have yet to disappoint me, dear.”

[amethystunarmed]

What Do You Say?

Word Count: 1753 AO3 Part 1 Written for Hatchetfield Rarepair Week Day 3: Memories Duke and Ted work on the case to get Ted custody of Peter. Duke gets a very normal migraine and Ted has a very normal reaction.

“I got your abomination of a drink,” Ted tells him. He’s only twenty minutes late to their meeting, which is honestly a record for him. Duke has started scheduling everything at least a half hour before he actually intends on starting. “Why on earth you need to add four sugars to a fucking white chocolate mocha, I’ll never understand.” Ted continues, taking a swig from what Duke hopes is his own cup. “Fair warning, it’s from Beanie’s, so it probably sucks.”

He places the cup in front of Duke, and falls into the chair for his clients on the other side of the desk. Ted says “Nothing can replace Miss Retro’s,” just as Duke picks up the cup and says, “Thanks darlin’.”

And something in Duke’s brain snaps.

Static. 

It almost makes you forget about all that.

It’s all static. 

It feels nice to be the hero, for once. 

Forget.

Miss Holloway had a good run. 

Forget, Douglas Keane. 

That’s not fair.

F O R G E T.

I couldn’t forget you, even if I tried. 

He hasn’t forgotten anything.

I’m trying to say good-bye.  

There is nothing to remember.

Can I?

So then why does it hurt so goddamn bad. 

When he next becomes aware of something other than the splitting pain searing his skull, he realizes he is no longer sitting in his chair. There is a steady hum of noise in the room. He’s on the ground, on his hands and knees. They’re warm and distantly achy. He realizes he is sitting in a puddle of hot coffee, that he must have spilled it when the migraine hit. The bizarre flare of pain recedes as quickly as it struck, just like they always do. With the migraine gone, Duke is able to parse out that the stream of noise beside him is Ted cursing.

“Oh fuck, oh shit, what the fuck, come on, man-”

“I’m fine,” Duke interrupts, voice sore. He pushes back on his hands so he can sit against his desk. The pain may have already faded, but the migraine has left him disoriented and breathless. They don’t happen often, but they leave him off-kilter. Sometimes he feels out of it for days after a bad one.

And this, this was a bad one.

“No you fucking aren’t!” Ted yells, voice squeaky with panic, “You just had like, a seizure or something. Have you had one before? We need to call 911-”

Ted pulls his phone out of his pocket like a man on a mission and Duke can’t believe he seems to be trapped in some weird temporal flux that makes Ted Spankoffski give a shit about other people. And, despite how much he would love to encourage this odd change in behavior, he  really doesn't want to go to the hospital. “Ted. It's really, really fine. It wasn't a seizure.” Ted glares at him, clearly doubtful. Duke bites his lip. “I get... Migraines.”

“Dude, that was not a migraine. You fell to your hands and knees and started screaming.” 

“That happens sometimes.” 

Ted gapes at him like he has absolutely lost his mind, and Duke supposes that, in a way, he has. 

He swallows. He doesn't like talking about it. He doesn’t think it’s anyone’s business. Right now, only three people know about his episodes: his general physician, Miss Holiday, and Duke himself. But most people haven’t seen him collapse on the ground and go nonresponsive. Most people haven’t seen the worst episode he’s ever had in person.

Ted apparently takes Duke’s silence as a sign of something further being wrong, because he unlocks his phone. “Fuck this, I’m calling an ambulance.” Duke sees Ted dial “9” and the thought of seeing an ambulance makes the static swell in his brain. 

He reaches out and places a hand over Ted’s phone. “Really, I’m fine. It’s already passed.”

Ted gives him a look of blatant disbelief.

“Look,” Duke says, “I...” He quickly thinks of a half-lie, something that will explain without going into the empty hole that Miss Holloway has left in his life, about the debilitating grief he can barely feel for a woman he hardly remembers. “I was... in an accident, a while ago. My doctor knows about these attacks, and I have been checked out for them, okay? I’m fine. That was just... a bad one.” 

“Okay...” Ted says, sounding like he isn’t okay at all. “...Are you sure we shouldn’t call someone?” He flips his phone anxiously in his hand. He has that panicked look, the same one he got right before asking Duke for help all those weeks ago. And suddenly Duke realizes he is missing something. Something important.

“Ted...” Duke says slowly. He has a feeling that if he gets this wrong, whatever moment is developing will crumble like sand. “Is something else going on here?”

“Psh, no,” Ted scoffs, “You must have hit your head when you fell.” He flips his phone quicker. He reminds Duke of the cagey high schoolers he is called to help, the ones who think they are too cool to show actual emotions. It almost makes Duke grin.

“You know, it’s fine if it scared you,” Duke reassures him, “Especially if you haven’t witnessed a medical emergency like that before.” 

Ted barks out a startled laugh. “It’s kind of the exact opposite.”

Duke frowns at him, any amusement he was feeling rapidly evaporating. “What does that mean?”

Ted sighs. He tucks his phone in his pocket and leans back on his hands. There is something intimate, the two of them sitting on the floor beside Duke’s desk. It makes Duke lean in, like he is privy to something special. But still, he is not prepared for the words that come out of Ted’s mouth.

“Peter had a seizure. Came over for dinner and we ended up spending the night in the ER. Apparently our parents didn't have time to pick up his insulin refill and he didn't want to 'worry me.’” He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, that didn't work. Fucking moron.” His voice is calm, but he brings his knees to his chest and hugs them, tightly. Duke can see the tension in his arms. “I thought he was dying.” The unspoken I thought you were dying, hangs in the air. “I thought my parents had finally killed him.” Ted chuckles, like that can disarm the absolute bomb he just dropped. “But at least he didn’t have to go to Abstinence Camp? So that’s something. We both missed out on the Honey Festival though, so, you win some, you lose some.”

It’s supposed to be a joke. An out Duke can take to make light of the situation. Duke doesn’t take it. He can’t imagine just continuing and making light of this situation, like it was something normal, a wild weekend that could be mocked. 

Duke could have passed their room in St. Damien’s when he went looking for Miss Holloway’s body in the morgue.

So instead, Duke doesn’t say anything. It’s a helpful trick he has learned over the years, to just let a silence be. He reaches up and grabs some napkins from the drink tray. He begins mopping up the coffee he knocked over, and lets Ted sit.

(Besides, he doesn’t know what he would say anyways.)

“Our parents... They're not bad people. They're just distant.” Ted continues after a few minutes, almost defensively. It feels involuntary, as innate a response as shivering in the cold. Duke wonders how often he's told this lie, that he truly believes it. “So for an independent kid like me, it was fine, you know? I took care of myself when I needed to.” 

And Duke has words to say about that, has heard plenty of hurt kids say the same thing, but Ted just plows through before he can get a word in. “But Peter... Peter isn't the kind of kid you can half-ass. He's too fucking good to die because my fucking parents can't bother to drive to the pharmacy. He needs someone who can actually take care of him.” Ted laughs bitterly and gives Duke a self-deprecating smile. “Guess he really inherited the Spankoffski luck if he's stuck with me.”

“I think he's plenty lucky,” Duke says without thinking. He means it though. Peter is lucky to have someone like Ted looking out for him.

Ted blinks at him, seeming utterly dumbstruck. He blushes, a bit, and isn’t that a wonder. Ted Spankoffski. Blushing. He clears his throat. “Well, you'd be about the only one.” 

Duke smiles at him. “Let's get back to work so you can show the rest of Hatchetfield then, huh?” With the information Ted just gave him about Peter’s health, Duke figures they would have a pretty solid case for medical neglect. If Peter was taken to the children’s ward, Duke may be able to have Becky Barnes come in as a witness. She has always been a fantastic resource for him in past cases-

“Oh no,” Ted says, interrupting Duke's train of thought. He clambers to his feet, and holds out a hand to help Duke up. “You are going to take a fucking break, that’s what is about to happen!” 

Duke blinks at him, even as he takes Ted’s hand. “Ted, I told, you, I’m fine-”

“Can it,” Ted interjects, and pokes his finger at Duke’s chest. “We’re not fucking up my little brother’s life because you were too out of it to file the proper paperwork. We’re stopping until I’m sure you’re not about to keel over.” 

And just a few weeks ago, Duke would have been annoyed. But somewhere along the line, Duke has realized that Ted is physically incapable of being emotionally vulnerable, even about his brother who he so clearly cares for. Most of his worrying about Peter comes out in complaints and bitching. And Duke thinks that, maybe this is just Ted’s version of caring.

He finds himself oddly touched. 

Duke feels a fond little smile creep onto his face. “Sure,” he says, “Seems like we need to pick up more coffee anyways.”

Ted looks down at the puddle of coffee-soaked napkins at Duke's feet.

“To be honest, this is probably for the best. I think both our drinks had spit in them. The baristas at Beanie's do not like me.”

And, for a brief, impossible moment, Duke finds himself wondering why.

“I mean, the crabby one is not NEARLY hot enough to be as mean as she is.”

Ah. Right.

[satninbaby]

I’m coming home.

warnings: smut (minors dni) male and female masterbation. phone sex.

bad grammar probably (i’m dyslexic soz)

i haven’t written anything in a hot minute, so if it’s bad i apologise.

Elvis was hard and alone. He had been in his motel room, staring at a picture of y/n, the girl he had missed a little bit too much. Somewhere along the way, his thoughts travelled to the last night they spent together before he hit the road on the Jamboree tour 17 days ago, not like he was counting. He had to get by only on phone calls late at night so her parents wouldn't hear them.

Y/n's parents weren't too fond of Elvis, they didn't like the fact that a 'greaser' was messing around with their daughter, thinking that he would ruin her and under the assumption that he would be hanging around other women on the tour. However, It couldn't have been more untrue, Elvis worshiped the ground y/n stood on. The first time they had sex, he was sweet and gentle and made sure it was her choice, not his.

Sure, there were girls that tried to get with Elvis on tour, though he simply turned his head the other way, he never thought of anyone else but his girl. So here Elvis was, alone in his room, his eyes flickering from the photo of her to the phone on his bedside table, knowing her just needed to hear her voice.

Meanwhile, Y/n was laying on her stomach on her bed, flicking through a magazine and kicking her legs up in the air, twirling a strand of hair as she let out a sigh. She wondered about Elvis and looked at the clock in her room, knowing his show would've been finished. She let out a soft yawn and debated going to bed and as she closed her magazine, knowing she had read every page, the phone on her nightstand began to ring out.

Y/n jumped up, answering the phone with a soft "Hello." Already knowing it was Elvis simply because of how late it was. "Hi honey, I didn't disturb you, did I?" Elvis rasped through the phone as he laid on his bed, his hand free hand resting on his tummy.

"No, baby, I was just reading a magazine. How was your show?" Y/n giggled as she made herself comfortable on her bed, picking at her blanket. "It was fun, the colonel says I could really make it out there. But I want to hear about your day, y-you know how much I love your voice." Y/n let out a soft scoff at the mention of the colonel but she soon let out a hum.

Elvis was too scared to mention to y/n that he was straining in his pants, he thought that if he could get himself off while she spoke and was as quiet as possible, she wouldn't notice. 

"Oh, I really didn't get to do much today." Y/n pouted, Elvis's fingers sneaking under his waistband as he teased himself. "That's okay, honey, just talk to me, I wanna hear your sweet voice." He responded, biting his lip softly.

"Well, Gracie and I went out to the diner today for lunch and there was a man who slipped and spilled his drink everywhere." Y/n laughed, rubbing her eye slightly. Elvis pulled himself out of his boxers, a bead of precum forming at the pink tip of his hard cock, spitting in his hand and wrapping his hand around himself, his lips forming a slight O.

"Then we went and did some shopping, Oh, Elvis, I bought this most beautiful dress! I thought we could go on a date when you come home and I can wear it for you." Y/n let out a gasp in excitement as she remembered the light pink dress that was hanging in her wardrobe. 

"That would be nice." Elvis breathed out, slowly stroking himself, his thumb going to his tip, just like y/n would do when she would get him off. "I can't wait for you to come home, baby, I miss you." Y/n's voice softened, Elvis's eyes rolling back softly as he jerked himself faster. "I wanna see you so bad." Elvis borderline moaned, but covered it with a soft cough.

Y/n furrowed her brows as she heard a soft slick and muffled groans coming from the phone. "Elvis?" Y/n smirked, her cheeks turning pink as he let out a hum that sounded more like a moan in response. "Are you getting yourself off right now?"

Elvis's hand stilled on himself as he remained silent before clearing his throat. "Yeah." He squeaked out. "I'm s-s-sorry, baby. I-I-I need you so much and I'm so l-lonesome and I couldn't stop thinking of you-" Elvis rambled, a flush of embarrassment creeping up his cheeks.

"My sweet boy, you could've just said something. You know how much I love taking care of you." Y/n giggled at him as he let out a shaky breath. "What were you thinking about?" Y/n whispered to him.

"The last night I seen you. How you did that thing with your tongue on my cock and the taste of you, baby, I can't wait to come home and taste your sweetness again." Elvis spoke, a small moan escaping his mouth, squeezing his hard cock softly. Y/n squeezed her legs together hearing how he moaned over the phone for her, she could feel her wetness gathering in her panties as he continued to groan.

"Mhm, I've missed you too. I've touched myself after we call some nights." Y/n confessed, Elvis letting out a growl at her words as her fingers snuck into her panties. "Honey, can you rub your little clit for me? Just like I do." Elvis shakily asked, his head falling back into the pillow as y/n's index finger circled her clit, making her hips buck slightly as she let out a small whimper.

Y/n collected some of her wetness and dragged it up to her clit, trying to hold back her moans from being too loud as she sped up her circling. "Elvis, can I please add my fingers?" Y/n moaned. "Not yet baby, I want you to edge yourself." Elvis responded, slowing his hand down as he started to feel the coil in his lower belly.

Y/n moaned his name as she played with her clit, wanting more, wanting Elvis. They both needed each other, they way they touched themselves could never compare to how they touched each other. They drove each other crazy in the best way possible.

Y/n felt herself get closer to the edge before pulling away from herself. "Please, Elvis. I'm so close." Y/n moaned into the phone, moving her finger back to her clit. "Add your fingers, baby." Elvis groaned, his hips raising up into his hand, his foreskin dragging back over the tip of his cock making his spine tingle.

Y/n pressed two fingers into herself, gasping at the slight fullness. "It's not as good as you, Elvis" Y/n cried out as she thrusted her fingers into her wet pussy, trying to desperately reach the spot only Elvis can reach. "I'll be home as soon as I can so I can treat my girl." Elvis spoke with a strained voice, beads of sweat running down his forehead in exertion.

"Fuck, baby, I'm gonna come!" Elvis exclaimed, his back arching as he tried to hold back, Y/n whimpering a "Me too." As soon as he heard her, he let go. White ropes of thick come shot over his fist and onto his lower stomach, his toes curling as he let out moans and groans of cusses and her name, thrusting into his hand as the rest dribbled out over his knuckles and onto the tufts of hair on his pubic bone.

As y/n heard Elvis coming, it had tipped her over the edge, almost dropping her phone as she whimpered out, a warmth coating her fingers, her own hips bucking as Elvis listened to her sweet moans over the phone, both of them panting as they finished.

Elvis reached over to his nightstand, plucking a few tissues from the box to clean himself up, y/n also cleaning herself up with a towel that she had left in her room from her previous shower. 

"Thank you for that, honey." Elvis sighed into the phone. "I really needed you." Y/n smiled to herself as she laid down. "Me too, Elvis. I cant wait to see you again." Y/n yawned, her arm stretching out.

"I don't know if I can wait a week, sweetie. I miss you too much and I don't like to sleep here alone." Elvis also yawned, his head nuzzling into his pillow. "Promise me that next time you'll come with me?" Elvis added, blinking softly.

"I promise." Y/n mumbled, her droopy eyes shutting softly as they both fell asleep listening to each others soft snores and breaths.

[wander-over-the-words]

Mad About the Boy

Summary: “Now, I know it ain’t your top priority and you’re well within your rights ta tell me to butt out, but since we’re on the topic…what is it that you especially like?” - During a break from walking, Sinclair talks about preferences when it comes to dating.

Characters: Augustus Sinclair, Subject Delta; mentions of Little Sisters, Splicers, Sofia Lamb, Andrew Ryan, Big Daddies, Grace Holloway, Stanley Poole, OFC of mine, Eleanor Lamb, Brigid Tenenbaum.

Pairings: Augustus Sinclair/Subject Delta.

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, alcohol consumption, period-typical homophobia, human experimentation, smoking.

Notes: A big ol’ excuse to talk about headcanons. Because when it comes to assigning a headcanon for Delta’s sexuality, I shrug and say “He likes Sinclair.” Happy Pride!

All material belongs to Irrational Games.

Fic available on AO3.

…

“There’s a face I haven’t seen in a while.”

Delta looks up from the poster he’s holding in both hands, over at Sinclair, who’s seated on the floor on the doors’s immediate left, still making his way through one of the bags of crisps they’d taken from the concession stand downstairs.

They’re holed up in the projectionist’s booth in the Triton Cinema, taking a break after saying goodbye to the second cured Little Sister. Delta had dragged the three bodies that were already in here out into the hall to spare Sinclair of having to eat while in the presence of corpses, and the entrance has been barricaded with the large shelf that had been on their immediate right upon entering the room. 

When Delta had first moved it, he hadn’t bothered to remove the items from the shelves, causing an almighty clatter as some of the files and film reels fell, and for Sinclair to gently scold him: “Careful there, chief. Don’t wanna go tellin’ everybody where we’re at, after all.” 

Feeling sheepish, he’d gingerly removed the rest of the bits and bobs that hadn’t fallen, then gone ahead with moving the large shelf over to the entrance to block the way, in case any Splicers stumbled upon them, and while Sinclair took a seat in the small gap between the doors and another one of those huge shelves to stay out of direct sighting, Delta’s attention went to the objects he’d taken down from the shelves, electing to explore while Augustus caught his breath and had a snack.

Film reels and thick files and a long box of old movie memorabilia - dented and dusty and spattered with a bit of blood from the old days - lay scattered around; Delta dropping them had evidently been the first bit of contact they’d had in a hot minute, long-since abandoned by Dionysus Park’s flood and forced evacuation. The reels have titles written on their casings in faded black ink, the files are full of papers with scripts for films and lists of names under acting and camera credits, and in the box are a few old plans for billboards and other such advertisements, designs for merchandise like clothes and toys, and posters rolled up and kept closed with elastic bands that are so old that they snap with Delta barely touching them. 

Sinclair is staring at the poster Delta’s currently got in his hands, for a film called The Greatest of Rapture. There’s a man in a sharp tuxedo on the front, standing in one of the offices here in the city, his hair a brown so dark it could be mistaken for black and his eyes bright blue. He’s smirking.

“Nicholas Lark,” Sinclair says, then gives a shrug of one shoulder as he picks a potato chip from the bag. “Good actor, but not the kind o’ company I like ta keep. If he went an’ joined Lamb’s people, well, you can colour me surprised, considerin’ the sorta man he was.”

Delta looks down at the poster thoughtfully.

“We went ta dinner once, ya see.”

Delta jolts with surprise and looks back over.

Sinclair is still staring at the poster, only now he’s frowning. He pops the crisp in his mouth, chews and swallows it down, then nods at the poster while pointing at Delta with the next crisp he picks out from the bag.

“Now, if there’s one piece of advice I can give you, chief,” Sinclair says, “it’s that you shouldn’t go wastin’ minutes on a man who thinks his very birth rivals that of Jesus. He musta been top o’ his class in Actin’ School, but lucked out and flunked Manners and Etiquette Class, alongside Lessons in Modesty. Went on and on about his movies,” Sinclair slaps on a fake smile, gesturing this way and that with the potato chip, “shared such fun little facts, like how he prepares before a big shootin’ day starts.” 

He rolls his eyes, smile falling into a frown as he says, “Fun dinner conversation like that. If the subject was changed, he’d bring it on right back.” He scoffs a sarcastic laugh. “No wonder he was so comfortable comin’ down ta Rapture, since he was apparently of the mind that the sun shone right outta his you-know-where.”

Delta looks back at the poster. 

Lark looks so charming in this image, like a suave hero type. Must’ve been easy to put on such a facade, given his apparent ego; Delta’s never met an actor before, so he can’t comment on what he’s ever perceived them to be like, but he supposes it must be ego-inflating, to have oneself be on the big screen like that.

“Only reason I didn’t cut that outin’ short, chief, was cause I’d had a rough day at the office,” Sinclair goes on, making Delta look at him again, “an’ was of the mind that I was gonna be treated to some kind of compensation in the way of a free meal, a reward for my godly patience. Even ordered the most expensive wine on the menu, once I realised he wasn’t gonna stop talkin’ about himself. Then out comes the bill and wouldn’t you know it, kid, but his wallet musta jus’ fell right outta his pocket - at home. On his bedside table. So, guess who it was that had ta fork out the payment for that meal, wine an’ all?”

Delta gasps.

Sinclair rolls his eyes. “I was raised ta be a gentleman, but Lord knows, I coulda had some choice words for him, if I weren’t in a hurry to get home an’ lay my head. Hell, after the day I’d had, I mighta even given him five across the mug. Had the gall to ask when we’d next be goin’ out - I said ‘When Andy Ryan decides Rapture’s better off bein’ lifted to the surface’.” He adds, with great sarcasm, drawing a dainty circle in the air with the crisp clutched between finger and thumb, “But I suppose it was only right that I paid, seein’ as how he graced me with his presence and all.”

Delta looks back at the man on the poster and his shoulders tense with anger, fingers gripping the poster within fists now. A small growl leaves him as he stares at the man’s smirk.

Lark had had the honour of taking Augustus to dinner and not only had he not let Augustus talk as he’s wont to do, but he’d made Augustus pay?! 

Why, when Delta eventually gets to take Augustus to dinner - as he will, as they’ve said they’ll do, once they’re topside, Delta is cured and they’ve located somewhere discreet - he’ll let Augustus talk as much as he damn well pleases, as he’s always done. Why would anybody want to silence him when Augustus is always so interesting?

And for another thing!

Delta lets out a note of whalesong to get Sinclair’s attention, pausing him as he’s got his mouth open to pop in another crisp, and holds up the poster in one hand. He points at Lark, swipes his hand through the air in a ‘cut it out’ kind of gesture, then points at Sinclair, rubs his thumb against his middle and index fingers in the universal sign for money, then taps himself on the chest.

“You wouldn’t go doin’ what he did?” Sinclair guesses and gets a grunt of confirmation. He chuckles. “Aw, now, I know you wouldn’t, pumpkin. When we eventually get ta go out ta eat, we’ll be goin’ dutch.”

Delta grunts for no, then insistently jabs himself in the chest multiple times.

Dropping the potato chip back into the bag, Sinclair gives another chuckle, regarding Delta with a warm grin, his eyes twinkling in the overhead light. He swaps out the tenderness for faux-embarrassment, however, when his bag of crisps lowers into his lap as he turns his head to the side and waves Delta away with his free hand, using that same hand to then cup his cheek.

“Why - you’re too much, chief. I suppose you’ll be pullin’ my chair out for me an’ offerin’ me your jacket when I get cold too?”

Going along with the joke, Delta grunts in confirmation, then taps at the poster again, over the door behind Lark’s portrait, and mimes opening it.

Sinclair utters a gasp. “And holdin’ the door open as well? Well, look who passed his Manners Exam with flyin’ colours! This five star treatment you’re promisin’ me…I wasn’t aware they allowed Big Daddies into the class at all. Or, ah,” he drops his hand and turns his head to look at Delta properly, tilting his chin down to stare from beneath his eyelashes, “are you just special that way?”

The slyness of Sinclair’s tone and gaze makes molten lava burst from within Delta’s heart, almost gets him too flustered to respond, but he muscles through it to continue going along with the bit and puffs out his chest, straightening up like he’s showing off.

For his efforts, he is rewarded with a chuckle from his partner.

“Well, then, ain’t I glad it was you I was partnered up with,” Sinclair says, casually going back to his snack, “an’ not any of your, ah…colleagues.”

Delta is glad too, for several reasons. 

Grasping the poster in both hands again, Delta gives a huff, still disgruntled by this man’s behaviour, then unceremoniously drops the poster onto the floor. He turns and walks over to the corner adjacent to where Sinclair is sitting, where there’s a large gap between the two large blocks of shelves for him to fit in.

(And if he steps on Lark’s face and leaves a dirty footprint behind, well, that’s because the poster had been in his path.)

Delta sits himself down on the floor and against the wall, crossing his legs and placing his hands in his lap, fingers still curled into loose fists. 

“This is all assumin’, o’ course, that we can find somewhere private to have this little rendezvous of ours,” Sinclair goes on, picking another crisp from the packet. “Even back before the war down here, that was a…necessary precaution for people like us. Gracie was right when she mentioned how Ryan would say anybody could be anybody in Rapture, but he was a tad naive when it came ta lookin’ at that anybody. Didn’t put ta mind that people would be bringin’ their bigotries down in those bathyspheres with ‘em - and they did. Once upon a time, two fellas could hold hands an’ watch the waters right outside their window in public, but soon enough, that sort o’ thing disappeared, and you’d sooner find a little girl drinkin’ blood than you would two men enjoyin’ each other’s company.”

Sinclair shrugs a shoulder. “Personally, I never felt it right airin’ my laundry out in public anyways, if you…understand where I’m comin’ from. Only person who ever needed to know about my business was me - well, me and the gentlemen I would spend my time with.”

Delta listens intently before sitting back to consider it.

He wonders if he was down here long enough to face any sort of trouble like that. If he really was as famous as Stanley was saying he was as this ‘Johnny Topside’ fellow, then maybe he got into scandals like that. Being seen with the wrong person at the wrong time, the kind of news that spreads quickly. 

Not sure he likes the idea; the obvious prejudice problems aside, Subject Delta doesn’t want to be in any sort of spotlight or on any sort of front page, but Johnny Topside? What did he think of that sort of thing? How did he handle his apparent popularity? How similar was Delta then to who he is now? Is any of his personality still artificial, or is he…him?

Sinclair goes on, and to be honest, Delta welcomes the distraction.

“Fortunately, I had my reputation as a workhorse to keep my comings and goings under the radar,” he says, before polishing off the last of his crisps. After he swallows them down, he adds, “If anybody were to ask why they never saw me paintin’ the town, someone else was always there to say, ‘Oh, that Mr. Sinclair, he keeps his desk attached to his hip! If ya see him in the streets, it’s cause he’s got a meetin’ with some other fat cat wantin’ to stuff his mattress full! Why, he ain’t got a date with a lady, he’s got a date with a price tag!’.” 

Sinclair crumples up the bag in the hand he’d held it in and stuffs it into his pocket, there being no bin to put it in. He takes his handkerchief from his other pocket and uses it to wipe off the crumbs and residue from his fingers.

“Course, when your name is one everybody in town knows,” he goes on like he never stopped talking, “some people get a little too caught up in what yer doin’, and with nosiness comes rumours, kid, so I had ta make myself up a little back-up plan, and that back-up plan’s name was Magda. A young lady down in Siren Alley that I used ta visit sporadically, who was fine keepin’ up the charade that I was one of her, uh,” he clears his throat, “regular customers, so long as I paid her up front for the time. Truth be told, all that was done behind that closed door was the burnin’ of tobacco, the poppin’ of the odd wine cork and the flappin’ of these here gums, but so long as the public believed the obvious conclusion to that situation, it was well worth the time (and money) spent. Between that an’ my payin’ Stanley to keep my name bein’ thrown around like that, and the amount of bother I received on the topic was minimal.”

He gives a shrug, then uses his handkerchief to brush off any crumbs from his shirt and lap before he tilts himself to put the rag away in his pocket again, looking at Delta as he does so.

“Just the sort o’ thing people like us hafta do, eh, sport?”

No idea. Well - Delta knows that sort of secrecy and deception is necessary for situations like that, but if Johnny Topside or Mr. What’s-His-Face - whoever he was before coming here - ever had to do that, Subject Delta doesn’t remember it.

Sinclair frowns softly as a thought occurs to him. 

He plants a hand on the floor to support himself as he starts to get up, saying as he does so, “Honey, you mind if I park myself there?” 

He points towards Delta’s lap with his free hand.

Delta jolts, coming out of his own head and not quite registering the question until Sinclair’s finished speaking, then he quickly shifts to loosen the cross of his legs and leans back to give Sinclair the space he needs to sit there. He pats his thigh to show he’s giving permission.

“Much obliged,” Sinclair replies, stepping over to take his place.

Delta holds his hand to help him balance as he climbs into Delta’s lap, sitting across his thighs and leaning back so far that he’s nearly laying, with Delta’s left arm wrapped around his shoulders to hold him up and Delta’s other arm resting over his knees. His side is pressed up against Delta’s torso, and even with the way the big guy’s being careful not to squeeze him or lean over him too much, Sinclair still feels encompassed in Delta’s safe presence, what with their size difference. 

Sinclair shifts as he gets himself comfortable, smiling up at Delta as he feels the light of that glowing glass on his face.

Delta puts an extreme amount of value in having Augustus sit in his lap. He can’t remember relationships from the past, but that doesn’t really matter to him that much during moments like these. He’s living in the present.

Sinclair isn’t quite looking at him as he idly plays with the ropes attached to Delta’s helmet weight; Delta observes him carefully, curious about the change in his demeanour.

“Ask you a question, chief?” Sinclair says.

Delta grunts in the affirmative. 

Augustus can ask him anything, so long as it isn’t about how he died before.

“Well, it’s just…With all this gabbin’ I’m doin’ about my own past and whatnot, it just got me thinkin’, is all.” He shifts to look at Delta properly. “I don’t…suppose you recall any of your, ah (how should I put this?)…e-escapades from before, do you?”

Delta doesn’t quite understand the question.

“Oh, c’mon, now, you know. What you…mighta looked for out there - man or woman.”

Oh. That.

Delta can’t recall if he’s ever even had a crush before now, let alone if it’d been on a man or a woman. 

He grunts to say no. Can’t remember, sorry.

“Right. Right. Silly of me, really.” Sinclair waves a hand. “Of course you can’t. Just…couldn’t help but wonder. Heh. An’ don’t worry, I ain’t a jealous man.” 

He cocks his head, brow furrowed even as he smiles, and he places his hand gently on Delta’s arm. 

“But - well, I suppose we can say you seem ta be a fan of the ‘sterner sex’ as some call it - same way as myself - considerin’ our upgraded partnership here.”

Perhaps, but to be honest, Augustus is the only man he’s ever looked at - not just looked at, but looked at - since waking up. Only person he’s looked at. Hell, he gets the feeling that if Augustus were a woman instead, he’d love her just the same.

“But that’s what I like about you, honey: your devil-may-care attitude.” Sinclair gives his arm a little pat. “Why, nothin’ dissuades me more than a man who can’t be honest with himself about what turns his head. I know as much as anyone that some things just gotta stay secret - whether you’re hidin’ it from the public’s eye or God’s - but when you can’t be honest with your own pair o’ lamps? Well, then catch mine pointin’ elsewhere.” He shrugs. “God’s eye was all over my hometown, an’ followed me all the way to Georgia, but you know what, kid?” 

He tilts himself to better press his body up against Delta’s torso, doing his best to lean up to Delta’s porthole in the position he’s in, and smirks.

“By the time I arrived there, I wasn’t afraid ta look God in the eye an’ let Him know just what kinda man I was.”

Briefly distracted by the way Sinclair is leant up against him, Delta stares at him, then lets out an awed croon, earning himself an amused raise of the eyebrow.

It’s not just to humour Augustus, though; Delta’s always admired Sinclair’s confidence. It’s one of the things that got his attention in the first place, the way Sinclair walks into a room like he owns the place, one hand on his hip and the other nursing his cigarette holder. Only time he’s ever seen Sinclair’s confidence waver was when he was cornered by Splicers, but that’s what Delta’s here for. As soon as the threat was clear, Sinclair was back to smiling and strutting his way through Rapture, praising Delta’s physical prowess and telling him stories and whatnot, self-assurance dripping off every word.

Got enough confidence for the both of them, and Delta just loves it.

Makes him truly question Lark’s sanity, to have stomped down on Sinclair’s loquacious and assertive personality on their date like that. Must’ve been one of the first Splicers to exist in Rapture - that’s the only explanation.

“Oh, but - here I am again, goin’ on.” Sinclair waves a hand. “This here’s really just my long-winded way of askin’, well,” he pats Delta’s arm again, “what about you, chief? Lack of memories as you have, I guess it’s almost like you’re startin’ from the beginnin’, back ta Square One, and I can’t imagine doin’ that. If I were to go back to One, I’d hafta fly on out to Panama an’ dig my granddaddy up so’s he could deliver that old speech to me again ‘bout how I’m gonna find myself a wife and build my legacy makin’ babies to carry my name onwards, which,” he gives a dry titter, “was never an option in the first place, never mind the marriage part, nor my preferences.”

(Delta hopes this attitude toward parenthood won’t extend to how he sees Eleanor; he wants the two greatest loves of his life to get along, after all.)

“But what about you, honey?” 

He looks up at Delta with a smile before reaching out to take Delta’s hand in both of his, holding it in his lap. 

“Now, I know it ain’t your top priority and you’re well within your rights ta tell me to butt out, but since we’re on the topic…what is it that you especially like?”

Delta stares down at him, then looks away to consider it.

Has he really had an opportunity to think about it? It’s not like he has a lot of options down here. Most of the people left in Rapture are Splicers, whose features are too twisted and gore-covered to make out whatever face those people may have had before, attractive or not. Only kind of person to find a Splicer sexy is a Splicer. Delta considers them lost causes all the same; while he’d rather not kill them and will leave them be so long as they don’t hurt him or Sinclair, he won’t lose sleep over it (once he can sleep again). 

There’ve been a few survivors, but they haven’t been particularly happy to see him either, barring his allies. Had he thought of any of them as…attractive? He gives it some thought now.

Grace had been…pretty, he supposes. He hadn’t really thought about it at the time, and thinking back on her now, his opinion doesn’t really…shift either way. Her voice was beautiful when she sang while he’d collected ADAM with a Little Sister, but her looks? Aesthetically pleasing, sure, but nothing that halts his thoughts and gets him flustered.

Tenenbaum had been much the same as Grace. Pretty, he guesses. Nice to look at. A friendly face is always welcome.

Stanley is…certainly standing in the security booth. Not hideous - in need of a scrub-up and a haircut, maybe, but, hey, who isn’t? Just…fine. Again, his opinion doesn’t tilt in any particular direction.

Even Lamb is just ‘fine’ to look at. If one asked his opinion of her overall, he’d have more to say, but her looks? She’s…just…fine. 

Everybody’s just…fine. They’re…people. The survivors, the people he’s seen up on posters around the place - they’ve never sparked anything in him. He gets the odd thought that a man looks handsome or a lady looks good in her particular outfit, but that’s not attraction, that’s just…noticing, and slight jealousy in the men’s cases (he can’t wait until he can put on suits and hats like the men in the pictures, so he can look normal and handsome as well). 

It was like that before he’d had his free will returned, too. He’d walk by people everyday, who would gawk and gasp and stare at him, and he would look back, and even though he would spare a thought to notice what they were wearing or ask himself what they were doing, they were all just people to him. The dead ones were ADAM banks and the living ones were obstacles or threats that he was to steer Eleanor away from. He was incapable of feeling anything for any of them, and he’s aware that that can be blamed on the brainwashing he’d gone through, but it’s still just how it was. How it still is, mostly; he can have opinions now, but they’re still so…neutral.

He’s only ever gotten genuinely strong opinions on the appearances of two people in his current life, and only one of those is attraction. Eleanor is his daughter, and she is of course the most beautiful girl to ever exist in all the universe (and he isn’t biassed or anything, she just is). 

And then there’s Sinclair.

Thinking about Grace and Tenenbaum and Stanley and Lamb - he doesn’t mean to sound insulting to any of them, but they’re just…there to him. They’re all nice to look at, sure, and definitely a welcomed change from the twisted maws of the Splicers he’s been surrounded by all this time, but they don’t snatch his attention away, he doesn’t stop to admire them.

Delta pictures them and…yeah, they’re fine. They’re people.

He pictures Sinclair, on the other hand, and his heart suddenly breaks out in a fuzzy warmth and starts beating harder against his ribs. His chest tightens in a way that’s uncomfortable, but he likes it at the same time. His blood feels warmer, but not like when he’s angry. He imagines Sinclair smiling, and he feels like he wants that smile to stay there forever. When he first saw Augustus back in Ryan Amusements, he was a little taken aback by how he actually found him…pretty. He was wary of him, of course - being a stranger and all - and Delta won’t claim it was love at first sight, but he found him handsome and…and not just nice to look at, but nice to look at. Not in just a ‘fine’ or an aesthetically pleasing sort of way, but he was always…attractive.

Sinclair’s the only person to ever ignite that spark in his brain, to ever remind him of the very human ability to love and to feel attraction. People are people, but Augustus is Augustus.

Delta’s not sure why it is - maybe he isn’t completely cured of his brainwashing and that’s why he can only give general opinions about the others and Sinclair just…snuck passed the radar, maybe it’s that he has the greater emotional attachment to Sinclair and so his mind is latching on a little bit, maybe it’s that his mind sees no point in getting crushes on anybody else when Augustus Sinclair is standing right beside him, or, hell, maybe Sinclair’s just his type and the others aren’t. Whatever it is, it’s here, and he likes it, and Sinclair likes him too, so…so yeah. Here they are.

Maybe when he’s removed from his suit, when the ADAM is gone from his body, and they’re topside and no longer surrounded by the monsters of men, other people will turn his head the way Sinclair does, but such as it is, right now…

Delta comes out of his own mind, looks down at Sinclair again, then carefully removes his hand from Sinclair’s grasp so that he can use one finger to gently prod Sinclair in the chest. He holds his finger there, giving his simple answer.

I like you.

Smile falling in surprise, Sinclair looks down at it, then huffs a chuckle at the meaning and looks up at Delta, grinning and laughing softly as he asks, “Don’tcha like anythin’ else?”

Delta grunts dismissively and gently prods Sinclair again.

No. Just you.

After holding the pads of his fingers to his lips to mask his delighted chuckling, Sinclair repeats his earlier actions, when he was fake-gushing over Delta’s manners, only this time he isn’t acting like he’s flustered, he genuinely is. Waving Delta away with one hand, then using that hand to cup his own cheek as he turns his head away, looking at Delta out of the corner of his eye, brow furrowed and smiling, his gaze all syrupy-sweet and cheeks all lit up in a bright red blush.

“You really are too much, honey,” he says, humoured at the innocence of Delta’s answer. He lays his free hand over his chest, sliding it under Delta’s finger. “Why, did you sneak some Incinerate! on that glove when you touched me? Cause - hehe - I coulda sworn you jus’ went an’ melted my heart.”

Delta’s shoulders shake as he lets out a short bout of warbling laughter.

Smile widening at the sound, Sinclair moves his hands; one goes to rest in his lap again, while the other is laid upon Delta’s chest as Sinclair scoots even closer, if it were possible.

“Ain’t you just a big ol’ slice o’ honey pie?” He’s still vibrating with light chuckles. “Where were you when I was off wastin’ time with Lark, huh?”

There’s a sudden shift in his demeanour: his tittering trails off and his grin falls, the colour fading from his face and his eyes widening like he’s just remembered something horrific. His eyes are still pointed at Delta, but he’s not looking at him, his attention suddenly absorbed into his own thoughts.

Delta’s shoulders jolt, alarmed and confused at the change, and he tenderly touches Sinclair’s chin with his fingertips, tilting it just slightly to better look him in the eyes as a silent question of what’s wrong.

The touch makes Sinclair flinch, coming out of his own world, and he looks up at Delta like he’s just remembered he’s here. Pointing his gaze back down at his lap, he forces a smile that falls immediately, then he clears his throat and the smile comes back. He pats Delta’s chest.

“Ah-ha - it’s - it’s nothin’, chief, I just…” 

He trails off, like his brain momentarily stops working, then he clears his throat again and takes Delta’s hand in both of his once more, looking up at him again. 

“It’s nothin’. My mind’s wanderin’ away, that’s all. Sorry, honey, didn’t mean ta…ta run off without ya there.”

Delta shrugs. Doesn’t mind if Augustus’s attention is elsewhere, so long as he’s okay.

Sinclair smiles warmly at him and leans his head on the edge of Delta’s helmet, the metal cool against his temple.

“As I was gonna say: I like you just the same, honey,” he says tenderly, making Delta’s heart all warm and fuzzy again, “far more than any other man who’s wanted ta court me. An’, ah,” Delta sees the way the loving look in Sinclair’s eyes falters, just slightly, “an’ you and me…we’re goin’ places, aren’t we? Places I would never think ta go with anybody else,” his eyebrows lift and some of that confidence Delta loves comes back, “like a private island, for one thing?”

The mention of their future plans gets Delta giddy with excitement, and he has to stop himself from standing up as he gets fidgety; he remedies it by letting out a long, ecstatic croon and holding Sinclair closer to himself (though still being careful not to squeeze him).

Sinclair laughs quietly and welcomes the hold, pressing his forehead against Delta’s helmet to affectionately nuzzle him, then hums, relaxed, as the proverbial dust settles and the two bask in their shared cuddle.

They hold it for a few, long moments before Sinclair’s head lifts from Delta’s helmet, looking toward his porthole as he says, “C’mon, chief. We better get movin’ if we ever wanna get outta this park, so we can start headin’ to those places.”

Delta stares down at him and even though his shoulders droop, sad that it’s time to go, he relents and releases his hold to let Sinclair get up. After he has, Delta rises from the floor too, first to one knee and then to his feet.

Sinclair brushes himself off, checks that his gun has ammo, then waits for Delta to remove the barricade before he waves a hand to tell Delta to follow as he makes his way out of the projectionist’s booth.

Delta does as he’s told, only to stop midway to the door. He turns back to look at where he’d dropped Lark’s poster, then growls and flicks a finger toward it.

A small flame of Incinerate! flies through the air, landing in the centre of the poster, right on Lark’s chin. His image warps as the poster starts to burn, face sagging against the heat, as the fire travels across the page, steadily reducing it to ash. 

Once the poster is a pile of crisp garbage, Delta steps down over the small flames to stop them travelling any further, then huffs at the ashes, one last bit of scolding at the man’s past actions. He steps out of the room then, goes down the hall and around the corner to return to Sinclair. 

“What were you doin’ there, sugar?” Sinclair asks, eyebrow raised from where he’s stopped midway down the short staircase.

Delta waves a hand at him to tell him not to worry about it, gives his shoulder blade a tiny nudge to tell him to lead on, and follows as Sinclair does just that.

[asskickedbygirl]

Request for smutty and fluffy Johnny fic where fem reader is an actress turned new cast member for Jackass Forever, but grew up having the biggest crush on Johnny. She gets caught on someone’s live saying how hard work is because of how hot she finds Johnny, and it goes viral.

Hot For Knoxville [Johnny Knoxville x F!Reader]

Desc: Anon covered it but i made it a little more … dirty

A/n: thank you for request! haven’t written any silver foxville but he’s still hot so here is this. sorry there isn’t much fluff til the end i got kinda carried away… lmk if you enjoy! also sorry it took so long i deleted it at first…

Warnings: smut (18+), p in v, age gap, alcohol and drug use, praise kink, oral (m receiving)

2.7k words

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You sat in Rachel’s apartment with her Jasper and Poopies after a long day of press. Being the new cast members, you started a tradition of hanging out after shooting or press and ended up becoming close friends. You and Rachel were on the couch talking and passing round a blunt while the guys sat in the kitchen. “So what were you thinking when Johnny first dmed you?” Rachel asked, inhaling the smoke into her lungs. “Well I mean at first I was kinda hoping it was for reasons other than professional.” Rachel laughed and handed you the joint. “Oh really?” You grinned, “Well who wouldn’t want Johnny Knoxville sliding into their dms?” Rachel giggled then tilted her head. “Isn’t he a little old for you?” You shrugged. “Hey the silver hair kinda does it for me. It was actually kinda hard to concentrate at work.” Rachel urged you to go on. “Well he was just so hot. I was constantly blushing and stammering around him. I still get all flustered when he talks to me sometimes like who the hell gets to work with their prepubescent sexual awakening?!” The guys began laughing and gasping, clapping their hands over their mouth and turning to face you. Your heart stopped at their reactions. “What?” You asked but feared you already knew the answer. “We’re on live.” Poopies replied, your face immediately turning a bright red.

You dreaded the next day when you’d be doing a full cast interview for some morning show. Naturally, someone had screen-recorded the live and it had done its rounds all over twitter and instagram. You knew Johnny had to know and that drove you crazy. You showed up to press, the crew already tormenting you over the video before Johnny even arrived. “Gonna find work hard today Y/n?” Wee-man teased. “Damn, maybe I should let my hair go gray.” Mocked Steve-o. Your eyes had rolled enough for ten years in the ten minutes you were waiting for your silver fox coworker. And then he waltzed in, immediately beelining for you at the coffee table, a wide grin on his face. “Well hello Y/n.” Your eyes rolled again, not even bothering to respond as you smiled flatly. “And how was your evening yesterday?” He asked as you gritted your teeth. “Very funny Knoxville.” He cackled his typical cackle. “Well hey I’m sorry! I’ll try not to make this hard for you today, I’ll look a little less sexy.” You gave him the stink eye and he laughed again. “Your heads so big right now I’m surprised you could even fit through the door.” He laughed again. “Alright, alright, I’ll leave you alone. I know you get flustered if I talk to you for too long.” You shook your head with disapproval as he walked away, leaving you with bright red cheeks.

Work was harder than usual that day what with all of the guys tormenting you about live stream gate. What was worse was how hot you found Johnny when he was being so cocky. Maybe you didn’t regret boosting his ego after all… Tremaine invited you out with the whole cast that night to celebrate the last day of press before the premiere and you gratefully accepted, never a better day to drink away your shame. You got ready, opting for a shorter dress for a more slutty approach to distract everyone from your embarrassment and headed out.

As soon as you arrived you headed straight for the bar to catch up with everyone else seeing as you arrived sort of late. By the time your first vodka shot poured down your throat a certain southern man had joined you. “Nice of you to join us.” He charmed and you ignored him, throwing back the next shot “Woah, maybe go easy there, don’t wanna be hungover on the red carpet now do we?” You wiped the corners of your mouth. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.” Johnny bit his lip. “Sorry for today, it’s funny s’all. Not really used to being flattered too much nowadays.” You peered up at him. “Really?” He shrugged. “Glad to know I have one fan of the silver hair.” You smiled. “Alright Silver Foxville.” Johnny gave you a quizzical look and scoffed. “What did you call me?” You laughed heartedly, “Just something I’m trying out.” You gazed up at him, your head sort of reeling at the fact you were kind of actually flirting with Johnny.

You both returned to the group and spent the rest of the night drinking and getting progressively more touchy with your childhood crush. Although you were almost two decades younger than your costar, he still made your heart skip a thousand beats and his sudden surge in flirty behaviour was making your head swarm. “So, I was your sexual awakening huh?” Johnny asked, raising his brows suggestively. You laughed, getting more comfortable with the scandal now his arm was draped around your shoulders. “God don’t even. I remember watching Jackass when I was like 12 and it was the bit where you had a bunch of bees as your underwear and I was just obsessed with you from that point on, you were like my sex icon.” He cackled loudly again, another proper Johnny, hand on belly cackle. “Good to know, good to know. And has much changed?” You rolled your eyes. “Not answering that.” Johnny looked smug then, “Oh really?” Your demeanour changed as Johnny wet his lips, his almost lustful eyes boring into you. “You wanna get out of here?” He asked and your heart stopped. You hesitated, shocked at the underlying intention of his question but agreed anyways.

Johnny made up some lame excuse that you were both tired and would get an uber together but you knew they didn’t buy it, not that you cared. The ride to yours was intense, you sat close together and tried to make normal conversation but the butterflies in your tummy were running rampant. He just looked at you with these almost knowing eyes and would bite his lip every now and again. You eventually arrived at yours as you unlocked the door and encouraged Johnny to sit while you got yourselves beers. He leaned back on your couch and had his legs spread wide, fuck. You handed him the beer and intended in launching into some irrelevant conversation to deflect from your nerves but he had other ideas. “Rachel’s right you know, I’m too old for you.” You sighed and took a sip from your beer. “Are we still on this?” Johnny took the bottle from your hands and set it down. You knitted your brows together but your face softened when you saw your crushes blown out pupils. “You got a thing for older guys?” You swallowed. “Maybe.” He smiled. “You got a thing for me though don’t you?” You bit your lip.

Johnny stood up from his position and looked down at you, hand reaching up to stroke your cheek gently, a look of wonder in your eyes. “You think about me?” You nodded as his thumb brushed against your lips. “Think about me when you’re touching yourself?” His thumb slipped into your mouth then, his words and actions making your panties pool. You sucked on his thumb obediently, lightly nodding. “Good girl.” You whimpered and his eyes lit up. “You like when I call you a good girl?” You pressed your thighs together tightly and nodded again. Usually you wouldn’t be into this stuff, but when it was Johnny you’d be wet at anything he did. He removed his thumb from your lips and grabbed your chin. “Open.” He muttered and you complied, allowing him to spit into your mouth. He scoffed as you swallowed it. “Jesus. I could do anything to you right now and you’d let me. Wouldn’t you?” You bit your lip again, your pleading eyes still looking up at him. He grabbed your chin more forcefully this time, “Wouldn’t you?” You verbally answered, voice wavering.

Your cheeks were a splotchy red as your eyes gazed up at him innocently, willing to submit to this act Johnny had put on. He lifted his arm down to pick up your hand that was lying on your lap, bringing it towards his ‘Knoxville’ belt. You complied with his wishes, undoing it as quickly as possible. You zipped his pants down and reached right into his boxers, taking his semi-hard cock out. You grabbed it by its shaft and looked up at PJ, waiting for instructions obediently. He smiled and nodded, “Go on.” You began pumping him slowly then before licking his tip gently. He groaned at the contact, his cock becoming fully erect. You got to work swirling your tongue around the tip, tasting his precum and moving your hand up and down the shaft. Eventually Johnny’s hand found it’s way to the back of your head, pushing it lightly to encourage you to take him in fully. You did as he urged, struggling to get half way down but sucking him nevertheless. He groaned while did so, beginning to move your head up and down himself now, his hips slightly bucking. “God you’re good at that,” He moaned, your eyes fluttering up to meet his lustful ones. “So pretty with my cock in your mouth baby.” You shut your thighs tightly at the praise and Johnny smiled when he noticed.

“You wanna touch yourself?” You nodded, pulling your tight dress up to fold at your waist, giving PJ a teasing glance at your panties. He bit his lip and continued pushing you down to take more of him in while your hands slipped under the band, fingers moving to rub your clit. You moaned softly against Johnny’s cock, the vibrations causing him to mirror your noise. That’s when he began gathering your hair up to hold a firm grip on you, the pushing and pulling getting rougher. Your pace with your fingers quickened as you began gagging on Johnny’s cock, the tip hitting the back of your throat. “Put a finger inside of yourself.” Johnny panted. You moved your ass to allow yourself better access, slipping a finger in while saliva began dripping down your chin. “There you go, good girl.” The praise caused you to moan again and add an extra finger. Johnnys pace increased so forcefully your motions inside of yourself stopped, only concentrating on breathing through your nose as the older man face fucked you. It got to a point you figured he had to come before he pulled your mouth off of him, strings of saliva still connecting you.

You wiped your chin with your hand, taking your other one out of your panties while Johnny took his pants completely off, his shirt with it. You bit your lip and pulled off the rest of your dress as well as your panties, admiring Johnny’s toned body despite his age. He grinned seductively when he saw you bare in front of him and at his mercy. He took your chin between his index and his thumb once again to tilt your head up towards him. “You’re too pretty for your own good. You know that?” You blushed like a schoolgirl even though you had just sucked the man’s dick thirty seconds prior. He took a seat next to you on the couch and pulled you to straddle his lap, seating you just above his cock. He rubbed his hand against your mound as he leaned in and kissed you roughly. It became apparent that that was the first time the two of you had even kissed and boy you were not wasting it. Lips and teeth clashing, tongues battling for dominance, soft whimpers let out as he continued to rub your clit. You pulled away, “I need you Johnny.” He smiled and leaned his head back, “Then get me.” He motioned towards his dick and you realised he wanted you to fuck him. You complied but were initially skeptical at his willingness to give up control for a moment, but maybe he had an ulterior motive.

You reached back and took his dick in your hand, already wet with your spit and his pre-cum and began lowering yourself. You whimpered as he breached into you, gripping his shoulder to steady yourself but noticed he made no efforts to help. In fact, Johnny had his arms up, leaning his head against his interlocked hands. “Go on.” He spoke, biting his lip and pushing his hips up lightly, teasing you. It became clear he was doing this on purpose, letting you do all the pathetic work to degrade you, and you weren’t even mad about it. You did as you were told, eventually getting down all the way before lifting again. It was hard to get a proper pace going when it was a one man job, just you fucking yourself with Johnnys cock while he watched on with delight. You whimpered and panted as you began bouncing, still steadying yourself with his shoulders. “Does that feel good?” He asked, taunting you. You looked him in the eyes and nodded, “Yeah.” He smiled back. “Hmmm. You like fucking yourself or do you want me to help?” You sighed, “Can you help?” He laughed, “Why didn’t you ask in the first place?”

Johnny grabbed your hips and pulled you down so you were fully seated on his cock, causing you to moan out before he pulled you off once more, slamming you back down immediately after. His pace became relentless, your mind fogging up as you let him fuck you. “You gonna find it hard to work tomorrow? Hmmm? Gonna find it hard to walk maybe.” You couldn’t reply, fucked out of your mind. You didn’t expect Knoxville to be such a dom in bed, certainly didn’t expect him to fuck you so well either. You moaned out louder than usual when he hit that spot inside of you. “Right there.” You managed to croak out, head leaning into Johnnys neck now, “Oh right there huh?” Johnny matched his stroke from before, hitting the spot with every thrust. Not before long he had brought you to the very edge, your moans hindering as you held your breath, trying not to release the loud noises that wished to be let out. You subconsciously bit his neck softly. “Let me hear you.” He muttered, continuing his pace. You pulled away and moaned pornographically as you fell off the edge, feeling your orgasm wash over you as you came on his cock. Johnny continued to plow into you, overstimulation making you convulse and whimper. “S’okay. I’m gonna cum inside you now sweetheart. That okay?” You nodded with your eyes shut, still whimpering. Johnny’s hips started stuttering until he grabbed your hips and pulled you all the way down forcefully, spilling inside of you as deep as he could. He moaned loudly as he finished, a sound you wish could be replayed in your head over and over.

“Fuck.” He muttered, panting heavily. You grinded your hips gently against him before pulling off, using his shoulders to do so. He groaned as he saw the cum spilling out of you, making a mess on your thighs. “God, let me clean you up.” He lifted you off his lap and made you lay down on the couch before putting his boxers back on and wandering around your tiny apartment to find your bathroom. He returned with a towel and began wiping your core gently. You admired him as he did it so meticulously, with such care despite ruining you a few minutes before. You tangled your fingers in his hair and passed him a gentle smile. “You alright?” He asked and you nodded. “Didn’t expect you to fuck so well old man.” He laughed at your snarky remark, clambering on top of you. “Old man?” He nipped you on the neck and you giggled. “Coming from the woman creaming her pants when I call her a good girl.” You pushed his face gently, acting as if your cheeks weren’t flushing at just the mention of the words. “You think the guys will know we fucked?” You asked, pushing Johnny’s silver hair off his forehead. He smiled, “Well maybe they’ll have an idea when you start walking all funny down the red carpet.” You covered your mouth as you laughed wholeheartedly.

End.

@gnarkillknoxville @steve-osahottie @izzaaaaaa @jackassvivalabam03 @kristinee @ckygetsjobs @jackussy420 @spoookyberry @lovexjoe

[simp-thingz]

Headcanons fir aizawa , present mic and hawks with chaotic himbo bf. Like he has a heart of gold and means well but always seems to cause mayhem even if he doesn't mean to

(Thank you so much for the request, I’ve never written a himbo before but I hope you like it :)

-Shouta Aizawa

Someone save this man. But actually don’t. As someone who deals with raging and goofy teenagers (cough cough kaminari cough bakugou cough) he basically lives in chaos which is why so many people were shocked that he would willingly carry said chaos into his personal life. Y/N or H/N as many of the students know him is basically chaos wrapped up in a pretty package. Once, Aizawa had to leave work early because Y/n had gotten distracted while trying o cook the two of them dinner and accidently burnt his kitchen so bad that most of the counters and appliances had tol be replaced. “But Shoo I wanna do the cooking” Y/n whined as Aizawa shook his head “no, nope, not happening, you just sit there and look pretty” he smiled as Y/n became flustered but smiled “can you teach me how to make something next time?” the h/c man asked as the dark haired teacher smiled even wider “sure”. Let me just tell you, the amount of sexual tension could’ve steamed veggies during that cooking lesson.

-Hizashi Yamada

Honestly this man would just vibe with it, he brings you to work and teaches you how to run the sound booth for his radio show, let you help with his classes, and if you mess up? Oh well accidents happen. Accidently commit arson trying to bake? That’s fine. Lead a bunch of stray animals back home solely because they were cute? Guess you guys’ will need a bigger yard. In his eyes you can do almost no wrong, the only wrong someone as sweet as you can commit is using is precious hairgel. You could honestly commit murder and he would just brush it off regardless of the two of you being heros. Not to mention the way he absolutely melts when you come to him for help with simple household tasks that seem so difficult for one person. “Babe, have you seen my gel?” The bright haired man asked in a rush as his partner hummed combing the last of said gel through their own locks unknowingly. “Uh oh” The H/C man whispered knowing that he had messed up “Babe?” Hizashi’s voice came from much closer this time as his vibrant eyes locked onto the empt jar “Oops?”

-Keigo Takami

Not gonna lie this man is kind of a himbo himself sometimes so I feel like it would just be two himbos in a relationship trying not to accidentally kill someone with their shenanigans. Like Y/N could just be chillin' at home, trying to cook something nice when Hawks is at work and then, BAM Hawks accidentally flew into a window cause he thought the balcony was still open. Or, Keigo just trying to set up something romantic in the bathroom, and then the next thing he knows, Y/N’s favorite hairbrush is in the toilet. It’s honestly difficult for other people to see how they haven’t destroyed their apartment yet, but that’s because the two of them do manage to help each other out without absolute mayhem raining down upon them for no reason. “Hey Kei!” Y/N yelled running his hands through h/c hair “Yess? What’s up?” The winged hero popped his head into the bathroom to find his boyfriend frantically searching the bathroom drawers “Have you seen my favorite brush?” the question caused Keigo to sigh as he reached into the cabinet above the toilet “This one?” the blonde questioned with a smirk as he handed the object over “Thanks, babe!” The oblivious h/c hero smiled as Keigo quickly left the room. After a few minutes he hears Y/N huff  “Why does my brush smell weird?” and he never tells a single soul the reason the brush smells funny and simply replaces it with one identical to the first.

[lovesosweeet]

better left unsaid // cth

chapter forty one

in which orion has leukemia, and calum doesn’t know.

calum hood x fem!oc

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november 21, 2018 san diego, california orion

I wake up at an excruciatingly early hour, incredibly achy and just feeling awful. I knew this would be part of letting my body ride out whatever leukemia has in store for me. That doesn’t mean that I feel any better about how awful I feel. 

It’s not even 5:00 yet. The alarm clock on my windowsill reads 4:48. 

I do what I seem to do best these days, grabbing my phone to scroll on Twitter more than I probably should. 

@ILoveCashton: anyone else feel like cashton is… gone? Idk how to explain it

@5SOSItalia: Replying to @ILoveCashton: no same! something is weird. 

@5SOSNo1: already missing tour! </3 but hope cal can get the time he needs to heal. we can all tell he needed a break by the end.

@5SOSFangirl: Replying to @5SOSNo1: 100%. Cal needs time to separate himself from her, for sure.

@OrixnSux: god i’m so glad they finally broke up @OrixnSux: anyone could see how awful she was @OrixnSux: i met her in the pit at a show once and she was SO entitled. thankfully cal is finally away from her. excited to have our man back!

@CalGirl2011: Let’s cheer @Calum5SOS up! Reply to this using #SmilesforCal and show him how many of us are here for him! 103 Replies

@5SOSFan14672: Oh my god Cal and Luke’s version of Yellow has me on the FLOOR!!!!!!! SOBBING!!!!!

@CashtonGirlie: Replying to: @5SOSFan14672: FUCK THIS HURTS @MikeyPizza4: Replying to: @5SOSFan14672: he deserves the whole damn world

@CalumStan: hate seeing how sad cal is. It hurts seeing someone so special look so hurt.

@ILoveCalumHood5: cal deserves the world. RT if you agree! @ILoveCalumHood5: ori*n deserves to rot in hell. RT if you agree!

@CorionFan: i still can’t wrap my head around the breakup @CorionFan: do we actually have confirmation or is this all just a speculation of sad shit from cal?

@5SOSUSA: Replying to @CorionFan: no we have confirmation. someone asked orion in person and she confirmed.      @CorionFan: Replying to @5SOSUSA: damn. :( 

@5SOSUSA: haven’t ever seen cal this sad. If you see this @Calum5SOS, we love you!!!

The Tweets and the photos posted from onstage and the clips of Calum being silent in interviews all send me into a spiral. I break down and fall into a weird, exhausted, in-between state of crying, sleeping, and crying again. My dreams aren’t restful. It’s always an unrelenting torture session of seeing Calum torn apart again and again by my news. I wonder when the last time I actually had a good night’s sleep was, and guess that it was probably before I broke up with Calum. Long before it.

When Emelia walks into my room around 8:00, I’ve been up for a few minutes and am already crying again. She comes to my bedside, perching on the carpet in front of me with worry written all over her face. 

“What’s up, babe?” She asks. I know that she knows the answer without me saying anything.

“Em,” I whimper. “I... I miss him so much.”

Emelia nods an reaches out to rub small circles into my side. “I know, O.”

“I can’t reach out, though.”

She sighs and looks at me with worry. “Orion, I swear, he’ll answer you.”

I want to believe she’s right, but our last few interactions have me doubting everything about my relationship with Calum. Actually, I can’t say that. I don’t doubt the strength of our relationship a few months ago, it’s just that whatever we’ve been since then is hazy and blurry and the bounds are unintelligible. I know nothing has changed for me, but I don’t know the extent of how things have changed. 

I grab the box of tissues on my nightstand to blow my nose, which is all runny and gross from crying so much. As I blow my nose, I look down at the tissues and groan as blood starts to soak them. Of course my nose would bleed now. Through teary eyes and with fresh tissues shoved up my nostrils, I look at Em, feeling helpless and tired and awful.

“I don’t know how to do this, Em. I don’t know how to get out of bed or eat or fucking breathe anymore. Everything is broken, and I’m the one who broke it.” 

The pity on Emelia’s face makes me unable to look at her. She’s on the brink of tears too. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” she quietly says. She’s trying to be soothing, but it’s not working.

“It’s not, though! I’m going to die! It’s not going to get better, Em. This is it. Nosebleeds and crying in bed and not being able to eat… this is my life.” 

I look back at Emelia and she’s now crying along with me. I hate to do this to her, but I can’t do anything else right now.

“I fucked up my life. I’m fucking up your life. I fucked up Cal’s life. I fucked up Ashton’s life and Mike’s and Luke’s and my moms’ and Eri’s and—“

“You’re not fucking up our lives! Sure, you made a mistake — with good reason — with Calum, but you are not at fault for having cancer, O. It’s not your fault.” 

I look at her, tears blocking almost all of my vision. “Ash and Cal aren’t even speaking!”

“That’s not your fault!”

“Yes! It is! I ruined them. I ruined everything, Em. I…” 

I know what I want to say, but I trail off, not wanting Emelia to have to hear it. 

I deserve to die.

Michael’s texts may have hurt to read, but I now think he was far more accurate than anyone else has been. Karma has come around for me. 

Emelia gets in bed next to me and hugs me tightly. “You didn’t ruin everything. We all still love you just the same.” 

Do they? Does Calum? I hate to think it, but he’s really the only one that’s at the front of my brain. He's the only one that really matters.

“I don’t know, Em. I feel so… lost. I used to think I was a good person, but I don’t know if I am anymore.”

Emelia is still crying next to me, and it sends a pang to my chest to know I am making her cry right now, or at all. “You’re still the best person I know.” She sniffles and hugs me even closer. 

We cry together for a while and I feel like my head is pounding. The inevitable sickness is kicking my ass today. 

“Can you get me some Nyquil? I think I need to nap.”

Emelia nods and wipes under her eyes. “Sure, I’ll be right back.” 

Emelia gets up and leaves the room, coming back a few moments later with the bottle of green liquid in hand. She wordlessly opens it and pours me a dose of it, handing it to me for me to gulp it down. She hands me my water so I can wash out the taste. 

We’re both still crying.

“I’ll let you take a nap, okay? I’m just down the hall in the guest room if you need me.” 

She doesn’t wait for me to respond before she leaves. We both need to be alone. I hear her cry quietly as she walks to the guest room and shuts the door behind her. I don’t think she knows that I can still hear her, because what she does next breaks my already shattered heart even more. 

“Ash?” She asks quietly, sobs making her voice wobbly. “Hey, I just… fuck. Everything is so bad. I don’t know what to do!”

I do my best to block it out, not wanting to hear her private venting session with Ashton. I turn on white noise and put a pillow over my head, flipping over to face away from the light and closing my eyes. I do want to sleep, and my body knows that’s what I need.

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[lizzheartss]

r o l e c o n t i n u a t i o n

pt.3

pt.1 / pt.2 /

with : @yuriko-tsukino-rp , hii! this is going lovely its so fun doing roleplay with you! <<33

Liz couldn’t believe her eyes, kistunes did have fire power, but war talk never scared the previous ones she met, Yuriko was somehow, different.

normally Kistunes are playful, brute and sly, Yuriko was really one of a kind, those gold irises almost had Liz flinched ,she had strong powers leaning in her veins, however, holding back such strong emotions and powers that can cause apocalyptic-like fires, wasn’t a nothing.

this has gotten out of hand, and Liz knew that Ruki was cold, so she wasn’t so wrong after all, Karlheinz knew this she was sure, he knew how Ruki would have reacted, yet somehow he had the nerve of sending her, when will that man stop giving such unpleasant surprises? Not to mention he still was keeping that rude speech, how shameful for an ex-aristocrat.

“you must warn me? makes me giggle, how selfish and self centred of you to expect that a respectable high in society Lady like me would fear you, let me give you a piece of advice, if you really thought that your adoptive father which is also the king of all demons would have shared his own plans with nothing less than an adopted child, you are out of your mind, and you haven’t grown up yet, learn how society works, then you’ll be able to enter the politic functions and how they work around the clans” Liz said as her head tilted angrily while her lips abruptly moved.

Liz crossed arms, taking a deep breath.

“and for clarification, i require your knowings, Karlheinz requires your presence, you want a written proof? You got it, i will make sure you get your silly, colored written card where you can see his own writing, if thats what you want” Liz said smirking while stepping slowly to his direction, almost making fun of him.

i should contain myself, someone with my title shouldn’t play like this, just too funny.

Liz continued to study Yuriko’s reactions, maybe she shouldn’t have said anything about her plans, just as Karlheinz said, the less they know, the better.

well she refused her offer, and they were leaving, Liz wasn’t going to force Yuriko, she was in a weak state right now.but it was planned, Liz was going to present herself at their house, well from what she knows is common, those Sakamaki Dudes and the Mukamis always did such things, Liz took out her phone from the back pocket of her miniskirt.as Liz digited in her phone’s screen she could feel Yuriko looking at her back while heading out, maybe she felt bad? Well Liz was a respectable vampire she had to give her a proper apology.

but thats for later, Liz opened the little green app and digited Karlheinz’s phone number, means one of the zillions of phone numbers he created followed by all the identifies he had, god what a man.Liz brought her phone near her left ear hearing the ringing soft sound, finally he picked up the phone.

“you were right after all, he did get suspicious, i don’t even think i need to rent out how his shameful and rude tone made him appear as someone so disagreeable”Liz said trying to contain her anger, that speech was really something.

“Well, perhaps you should have listened to my words? I shall notice you did already since that obnoxious nuclear bomb threat would’ve witnessed an altercation way more complicated than a common war” that man always talked as flawless as a lion. Look at how he was teasing Liz.

Liz rolled her eyes, she knew he was right, but she knew too that she wasn’t one that didn’t accept defeat.“you won this round Karlheinz, you made your move, now its my turn, i’m gonna need the adress, seems like your little non biological child wants a proof of your words” Liz said looking back at the door they exited just a minute ago.

“Of course, i will make sure you have the invitations and their adress, i shall now take my leave, lets hope you’re in luck.” He closed the phone.

Liz crossed her arms once again, this was going to be more difficult than what it seemed.

A black shiny expensive car pulled over the Mukami mansion, who could it be if not Liz? From the front door an old black dressed butler came out to open one of the backseats doors, he pulled the shiny handle with the dressed hand by a black glove.

Liz sticked out her leg as the butler picked her hand to help her getting out of the car, Liz watched the mansion as she got up, victorian architecture is quite famous in the vampire clan, unlike the tacky, baroque styled mansion where she lived their house was way more minimal, dead colors and mainly used stoned and black oak roofs.

the cancel that separated Liz and the house was tall, surrounded by stone walls, and it was black metal, it had spiked tops and an entrance.

Liz was used to see gold and shiny crystals everywhere around her house, this one seemed elegant but yet colorless. Enough with the analyzing we have an invitation to deliver.

Liz’s butler came ahead to open the cancel’s door for her as she stood behind him.

“Would you like me to join you, Miss?” his low voice said as he watched the ground.

“i got this, wait for me” Liz said entering the cancel, the garden was pretty, green and lively, her velvet black boots made noise as the heel touched the ground, maybe they already heard her? There she was in front of the door, a tall dark brown door with a golden handle.

Liz knocked 3 times as she stayed crossed arms.

[philipjohnclapp]

If you’re gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough

Goretober Day 1

Prompt: Stab Wounds

Word Count: 748

A/N: This is REALLY bad, I wrote it rather quickly (like ten minutes) and I haven’t written anything in a while, so, read at your own risk.

It was just another day on set. They finished up whatever stunts they were filming for the day, and went straight to the bar. Somewhere he spent the majority of his time, usually trying to get free drinks. Because he couldn’t pay the five bucks for a drink, but a free five dollar drink and an ego boost is so much more worth it, so, Steve-O decided to show off.

And show off he did. Sitting on one of those dumb spiny barstools with a cocky shit eating, yellow, grin on his face. Looking at the customer next to him who was showing off his cool “butterfly” knife to whatever chick was on his opposite side. And that’s when an idea came to his mind, a way to snag a drink, a way to get everyone’s attention. So, he got the knife holder's attention.

“Hey, dude, bet you a drink I can balance the tip of that knife on my nose.”

Steve-O found himself boasting, as he turned on his chair to face the man. Something he’s done quite a few times, he’d say he perfected it by now. The man looked at him with curious eyes, looking away from the fair lady, and giving his gaze to Steve-O instead,

“Oh yeah? I’d like to see you try.”

The man let out a rather amused laugh. Handing over the pretty purple knife to Steve-O. He took it earnestly, ready to get himself a free drink. Hopefully a real strong one too.

Steve-O flipped open the knife, and eyed the pristinely sharp blade. Tilting his head back and letting out a just as sharp exhale as he put the blade tip against the tip of his nose. Somehow getting it to start to balance. His head shifted to the side a bit to keep it still; as still as he could anyways.

And then something he really didn’t expect to happen, happened. Knoxville put a rough hand on his shoulder, shaking him completely. Taking him by absolute surprise as his head lulled forward and the knife slipped, slicing the edge of his nose and starting to fall. His head jerked suddenly as he let out a whiny groan in pain, panicking and trying to catch the knife with his hands. Instead he full heartedly grabbed the knife by the blade with his left hand, slicing open all his digits. It felt like molten lava. While he tried to switch the knife from his left to the right he managed to stab himself right in his right palm, all the way through it in a rather clean plunge. Steve-O's eyes started to water.

“What the fuck, man??!”

The knife's owner on the stool next to him yelled at Steve-O, a look of disgust and anger was present on his face as he stood up, pushing Steve-O hard. Kicking him right when he was at his lowest, absolutely pissed.

“Fuck.. holy fucking shit, O!”

Knoxville yelled out as he took his hand straight off the others shoulder, looking at him with absolute horror, and major disbelief. Like he couldn’t just believe what he saw, Steve-O was trembling as he grabbed onto the counter with his left and right hand trying not to fall off the stool from the shove. Lodging the knife even further through his palm, severing more muscle and bone and important tendons and veins. He let out a sharp cry. As he stood up. Mumbling a few curses, as he tried to grab onto the guy he was trying to impress earlier with his rather bloodied hands. One had a fucking knife through it.

His breathing was all labored as he ruined the man’s white button up. Clenching onto it like he was the next coming of Christ, absolutely pleading with him, like a child pleading not to go to school. Pleading for help, pleading for just about anything right now. Steve-Os ears rung, and that man’s look of anger changed to one of surprise. And then disgust once more. Shoving Steve-O right off him, and spitting in his face.

“Yer fucking scum!”

His voice slurred slightly as Steve-O fell down, hitting against the bar stool behind him as he got knocked to the floor. In absolutely agonizing pain. He watched as the blood pooled from his nose, and both hands. Looking down at his now ruined shirt, and then back down at Steve-O. Giving him one more final vengeful kick, before he averted his gaze to Knoxville.