#I might be wrong about the reason why these shows get clocked so much

[purinfelix]

plsplsplspslpsl write calling bf barca boys (pedri, fermin, joao) + jude bellingham "bro"

"bro"

featuring: pedri, fermin, joao, gavi (i had to include my bby sorryyy!) and jude warnings: teensy bit cringe at times, be warned ...

a/n: once again apologising for being ia, but an eternal thank you to anon and every one else who's still interacting with me and sending me requests!! trying my best to get through them, thank you all for your patience <333

You don’t remember how it had happened honestly, the two of you had just been hanging out in his bedroom, a situation you had come to find comfort in since its frequency had become almost like a routine to the two of you. The air outside was cool, giving the two of you an excuse to curl up together under the blanket and binge watch episodes of your favourite show in a comfortable silence. That was, of course, until you heard the chime of your phone - causing you to perk up out of your boyfriends arms.

“Bro, could you get that for me?”

Pedri

Honestly he doesn’t think much of it at first, since your guys’ relationship has always been pretty casual in the way that you both trust each other enough not to overreact. He reckons that it probably slipped out by accident, and given that it’s what most of his teammates and friends call him, he doesn’t react that much. Sure, he noticed it, and filed it away to the back of his mind as a sign that you might be mad with him but he’s a pretty calm boyfriend only offers an amused eyebrow raise.

It’s only when he leans over and grabs your phone do you realise what you’ve said - but only decide to double down on it to get a reaction out of him.

“Thanks bro,” you say as nonchalantly as you can manage when he hands you your phone, immediately going to respond to whatever message had caused the notification sound. And at first it seems like he’s not going to indulge your obvious bait for a reaction - of course until you hear the rustle of bed sheets and his strong arm snake around your waist.

He lets out a soft mumble that roughly translates to - “What is it baby?” - as he buries his face into the crook of your neck in a loving, yet almost pleading manner. It doesn’t take long for you to give in to his charms.

“I’m only messing with you,” you giggle, patting the top of his head reassuringly.

Fermin

If there’s one thing you know about Fermin, it’s that he’s observant. However, another thing about him is that he’s a sly little shit. So whenever he feels he can sense you trying to prod at his temper it only ends in him serving you back your own attitude.

“Of course, bro,” he says, and even though you’re not looking at him as he turns to grab your phone, you can tell he has a wide smirk spread across his face.

You only give him a knowing look, and try your best to maintain your composure while stifling your laughter - but the minute he drops your phone into your hands you know he’s not going to back down on this.

“Thanks, dude,” you quip.

“Any time, my man.”

Silence, and you’re trying to figure out your next comeback while ignoring the weird way him calling you ‘my man’ made you feel. You feel oddly stupid for starting a game you know you couldn’t keep up with, but luckily your boyfriend has already caught wind of this by the look of amusement on his face.

“Something wrong, mate?” he chuckles as he leans over to peck your lips that you hadn’t realised had formed a pout. All you can do is sigh in faux-exhaustion before erupting into a fit of laughter.

Joao

It’s only once he’s reached over to grab your phone, that he clocks the odd new nickname. Immediately, but silently, his mind starts racing through the possible reasons as to why you’ve bestowed it upon him - did he do something wrong? He did only kiss you twice before leaving for training that morning, and he did accidentally move away from you when the two of you were cuddling earlier. He’s worried, but he’s also up to play your game if need be.

His grip on your phone tightens, and you hear his voice low, daring - “What was that darling?”

You truly meant it as an accident this time, and he manages to snap you out of it with his words. “Oh, sorry, babe,” you correct yourself and he nods as if to silently say that’s better.

You get your phone from him, and a quick kiss on the cheek before he settles back to wrapping his arms around you, tucking his head into the crook of your neck so he can look at your phone next to you.

Gavi

Whilst something like being called “bro” might not matter to most other guys, it definitely did to your boyfriend. His reaction to your words was immediate, his head whipping up from where he had been laying beside you, eyes round and pleading.

“What?” his voice was quiet, almost unbelieving and you had to try your best not to laugh at how dramatic your boyfriend’s reaction was. Still, a small chuckle escapes your lips, only making you feel worse as a small pout forms from his lips.

“Sorry, it slipped out,” you reassure him, reaching up a hand to stroke his cheek lovingly. He furrows his brows as if to pose the question - are you sure? But you only take this as a sign to mess with him, just a little more.

“What, you don’t like me calling you bro?” You’ve completely forgotten about your phone at this point.

“No, definitely not.” He’s oddly serious when he says this, but this only adds to how amused you are by this situation.

“Alright baby,” you hum out your apology, trying your best to further express this through your thumb on his cheek - and luckily he seems to get the message. Before you know it, he’s melted back into your arms, your fingers curling lazily around his hair.

Jude

“What?”

Jude is quick with it, turning to you immediately as soon as the word leaves your mouth with an expression that makes you realise your mistake all too quickly.

“Bro?” he asks again, almost daring you to repeat it, but the shocked laugh he lets out reassures you he isn’t taking it to seriously - only getting an unfair amount of amusement from your mistake.

“Whatever, babe, there,” you say in mock-annoyance, not wanting to let him get the better of you.

“Nuh-uh, you called me bro,” he pushed, leaning in close to you, his voice teasing.

“It was an accident, okay?”

“Sure,” he hums, finally grabbing your phone and handing it to you, all the while having a stupid smirk on his face, “I’ll just have to start calling you mate or something, yeah?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you mutter through pouted lips and he finally gives up the act, settling back by your side and pecking your cheek as an apology.

[imaginesmai]

Missed target - Azriel

Here it is! So many people asked to be tagged on this I got OVERWHELMED. Thanks for the love!I'm thinking about a second part where Azriel decides to repeat all the missed efforts and treat you like the queen you are. Let me know what you think.

Plot: Azriel is convinced Elain was made for him. Three sisters for three brothers, and no one can make him change his mind. But someone or something is determinated to change the course of fate on his behalf. No matter how hard he tries.

The Suriel 1

The Suriel watched the shadowsinger sharpen his blades in the forest, oblivious to his presence. Not even his shadows could detect the ancient creature, and he was proud of that. Of all the beings that he had seen, all the people that had summoned him, Azriel was who drew his curiosity.

Maybe the male in front of him didn’t remember, or maybe he did but had decided not to tell a soul about it. The Suriel did remember, and he had been observing since that night where a young, scarred and devasted Azriel had summoned him.

“What is wrong with me? Why does nobody love me? I want to know – I want to know if someone will love me, please”

The child didn’t understand what a Suriel was, or what type of questions he could answer. Still, the Suriel held the sobbing kid for one night, just one night, and let himself wonder what would it be to feel, to dream, like fae and humans did.

Something changed in the male’s stance, a muscle twitching in his left wing, and the Suriel knew he didn’t have much time left before he was noticed. He risked another glance at the unmoving figure, shadows surrounding the clearing where he stood.

As he vanished from the sight, the Suriel smiled briefly, oddly happy that that kid’s broken questions were about to be answered.

Missed date

Azriel liked Elain, more than he should. He liked her innocence, the way her hair fell over her shoulder, her full lips and thin waist. He liked the dresses she wore and the flowers she grew, even the way her voice sounded when she said his name. He liked liked her, and felt like a foolish teen when she was around.

Rhysand had warned him against it, and the Archeron sister had a mate – but still, Azriel hoped Elain would like him back. Even though he had been with plenty of women before, that time it felt different, and he didn’t know why.

Ignoring the signs against his desires, he had decided to act on his feelings.

Azriel had invited Elain to have dinner with him that night, in a lovely restaurant in Velaris. Sure, he might have said Cassian and Nesta were coming, and then proceeded to invite the couple knowing they wouldn’t even make it out of the bedroom with their clothes on. The plan had gone just fine – Cassian and Nesta had talked about it during lunch time, giving the impression it was just a friendly dinner, and then proceeded to lock themselves in their room for the rest of the day. Elain had smiled and asked about the hour, and Azriel had chosen his best shirt.

But the Cauldron musth have had other plans, because another minute passed by and he was sitting by himself in the restaurant, getting strange looks from the staff.

“Are you ready to order?”

He looked up to the waiter, with a tight smile on his face. Azriel guessed they were debating if kicking him out was worth angering the spymaster of the court.

“Still waiting” he grumbled, looking to the closed doors. “What time is it?”

“Nine thirty, sir. Would you like to… drink something?”

“Water is fine”

They had agreed to meet at nine, and part of him refused to think he had been stood up. That sweet, charming Elain who blushed under his gaze wouldn’t show up. He tried to come up with a reason behind her absence, and was sure there was a reasonable one, but he felt his excitement die as the clock ticked away.

Azriel pursed his lips when the waiter didn’t leave, not meeting his eyes. He would leave, but he would wait a little longer. For her sake, he would wait until the sun came up. The male cleared his throat and Azriel stared at the plants decorating the entrance.

It was a nice plant.

“Is the person you’re waiting for coming soon?”

“If she was, I wouldn’t be waiting here” his words were bitter, not towards the waiter, but at the situation.

“Maybe you could move to the counter and wait there, sir? I… there are customers waiting and – “

Before the man could dig his own grave further, Azriel pushed his chair back and walked towards said counter with his jacket on his arm. He refused to look at the waiter and let him know just how embarrassed he was, how disappointed in himself and in her.

The restaurant had a small counter where some couples shared their food and friends drank loudly. He damned his luck for choosing the busiest day to be stood up. Scanning the crowd, he found an empty seat at the corner and sat on a stool, ordering a beer.

Alcohol would only make it worse, but he guessed he was already done for. Ten more minutes, he promised himself. If Elain didn’t walk through those doors in the next ten minutes, he would leave and apologize to Rhys for his stubbornness.

Two minutes passed by, and he grew sick of watching the couple in front of him giggling in secrets.

Another three, and he counted each plant that decorated the restaurant. There were twenty-five without the artificial ones.

Seven minutes after his first beer, the waiter asked him if he wanted anything else and he just growled back.

His fingers were clenching painfully around the hem of his jacket when the ten minutes passed by. He was ready to get up when something sweet and floral hit his nose, leaving his mind blank for a second. Azriel blinked surprised at the smell, distinct from the elegant ones in the restaurant. With half smile, he turned to his right hoping to see Elain, pleasantly surprised with her choice of perfume.

Only that the woman who sat next to him wasn’t Elain, but another fae woman with a similar smell. Azriel scanned her outfit before you noticed him, before he could reprimand himself for checking you out.

You were wearing a loose blue and bright skirt with an elegant top, that left part of your collarbone visible. He felt something rush to his chest up to his cheeks while he stared at the smooth skin, and he willed himself to look up to your face.

“Guess this is where they discard the stood up, hm?” you looked at him and he blinked surprised. “I’ve been sitting next to the window for an hour now. I don’t think he’s showing up”

“Who?” Azriel asked dumbly, not thinking anything better.

“My friend set me up on a blind date, but he didn’t show up. At least the bread was good” you shrugged, finally looking away from Azriel. “Hi. Can I get a soda?”

Azriel felt his previous resolution of leaving the restaurant dissolve. You smelt just like her, but so different at the same time. Your voice still reverberated on his chest as you waited for your drink, stealing glances at the silent male at your side. It was strange for him to have his throat swallowing back the words that he wanted to say, have his mind blank of any comeback.

But as he stared at you, he wondered if you were a witch and had casted a spell on him.

“Are you… my date?” you finally asked when your soda came back, looking him up and down. “I’ve seen you standing here for a while”

“I’m Azriel”

“I don’t know the name of my date” you stated, and Azriel just prayed that you wouldn’t notice the shadows he couldn’t control revolving around your feet. “I’m Y/N”

“No”

He begged himself to say something else, to break the awkward silence or leave. After all, he had gone to that restaurant to meet Elain, not a stranger who had been stood up. But all the wit and intelligence that had won him the title of Shadowsinger and Spymaster seemed to seep away through his pores, and he couldn’t get back any of it.

You smiled at him tightly and turned to look around, finally breaking eye contact. Azriel got up without saying anything else and walked towards the doors, leaving a generous amount of money on the counter. You didn’t say goodbye and he didn’t bother looking back, his body stiff with your awkward encounter.

When he arrived to the house, he found a very regretful and very sick Elain who had been in bed all afternoon. She apologized again and again until he forced her back in bed and tucked her in. They agreed they would repeat again, sometime, but Azriel found himself less excited than that morning. He didn’t blame her – he couldn’t, when he had seen how her knees trembled with coughs and had heard her stuffy voice.

As he laid down that night in this enormous bed, his shadows didn’t whisper about Elain or brought back her smell, that most nights didn’t let him sleep. They caressed his hands in silence, with the memory of a sweet, floral smell that didn’t belong to the girl he liked.

The market

Rhysand and Cassian were away for a week, and while Azriel usually missed his brothers, that time he was beyond himself. Not only he wouldn’t be hearing Nesta and Cassian’s late-night activities, but he would be alone with his favorite Archeron sister, since Feyre and Nesta had decided to leave too.

There were plans for them, big ideas that he had crafted the previous night as he laid awake in the dark. The first one, most important, would be to find an excuse to talk to Elain.

She had left for the market as Azriel completed his morning training, and the male didn’t miss how she blushed at his presence. She had explained briefly her plans to him and had left in a rush. Azriel, who religiously trained each day, decided to postpone his activities and refill the house’s pantry.

It took him a while to come up with something to buy, even longer to gather the courage to follow his plan. By the time he was walking through the lively market-street, he was certain Elain would be leaving.

But he was lucky, because he spotted the familiar head a few stands away. Azriel felt the usual acceleration of his heart rhythm, the blood rushing to his head. His wings fluttered and he walked with little decision to where Elain was buying some fruits.

It seemed, with so little decision, that she moved away before he could reach him.

The game of cat and mouse continued for what felt like forever, Azriel only sniffling her before she left to a new stand. The street seemed endless, and the buyers too talkative and pushy. They bumped against his wings, apologized, and proceeded to block his way in awe for five to ten seconds.

When he saw Elain holding enough bags to cause him a backpain, he decided pushing people in return was worthy and walked faster.

Before she could complain, he picked up her bags from her arms carefully, resisting the urge of flinching at how heavy they were.

“Here, let me” Azriel extended his free arm, watching without looking up as it filled slowly with more bags. “These are heavy. What do we need so much food for?”

“Are you planning to eat it with me?”

Azriel looked up and stared into a pair of bright eyes that certainly weren’t Elain’s. Nor was your hair pulled back in a ribbon, or the worn-out cape hanging from your frame. His shadows helpfully recognized you from the missed date and awkward encounter, and he blinked surprised.

He opened and closed his mouth. Proudly, he could argue that only few times someone managed to make him speechless. But he didn’t find anything to say as he held half of your bags, looking a caught thief.

Your smile lowered at his surprise. Surely, you expected a kind stranger helping you with your heavy groceries, not him. Just as he didn’t expect you.

“Can I… have that back?” you asked when he didn’t move, only stared at you. “Please?”

The standard, cordial reaction would have been to apologize and carry the bags for you. If Azriel’s brain hadn’t stopped functioning, he would have explained he had confused you with someone else and would be on his merry way to find Elain.

But his heart wouldn’t stop beating stubbornly against his chest, loudly on his ears. His shadows, that you had noticed by now, were tangling themselves between your knees, holding part of the weight themselves.

He tried not to make it too obvious when he inhaled your essence, so characteristically nice. Instead of doing any of the rational things, he dropped your bags to the ground with a loud crack and a wet splash and turned around, disappearing into the crowd.

The flowers

Feyre had given him the directions, and he had quickly written them on a piece of paper as his high-lady prepared Nyx’s bottle, cradled the fussy baby and ate her own breakfast.

He was extremely thankful for her help, because she had also had the idea to give Elain a bouquet of flowers. Azriel felt bad about ignoring her for the two days they were alone, too busy trying to regain what was left of his dignity after the market. So, he had prepared the flowers and put them together with a blue ribbon, and had asked Feyre where Elain was staying.

He had walked through the streets of Velaris with a content smile, humming to himself in silence. His shadows were active that morning, dancing between his feet and knees, and tangling themselves in the flowers. He couldn’t explain the sudden urge of joy if not for the imminent encounter with Elain, who had been on his mind for two days straight.

The rays of sun warmed his cheeks, and he felt extremely lucky.

It only took him ten minutes to reach his destination, a busy street in the center of the town. People sneaked glances at him and whispered, as if he wouldn’t hear them. Azriel stopped in front of a white wooden door. It looked old and worn, and matched the pots with flowers on the window. It was a cozy house, exactly what Azriel had imagined Elain’s house to be.

She had moved out a few months ago, claiming she needed her own space. And he had yet to visit her place – which, once he realized he was about to do it for the first time, made him kind of nervous.

Azriel stood in front of the door, his frame covering the whole space. Between his shoulders and wings he shadowed it, and he felt weirdly insecure. Something fell to the ground inside, probably a bag, and even though he knew Elain would be inside, Azriel recoiled back.

In a pathetic attempt to make his intention known, he raised his fist.

Knock, give her the flowers, apologize, leave.

Don’t throw them on her like a burning pot.

Knock, give her the flowers, apologize, leave.

Try to smile without looking creepy.

Knock, give her the flowers, apologize, leave.

He heard soft humming from the inside, and the fact that it was the exact same melody he had been humming on his way there threatened to give him a heart attack. Before he could think better, he quickly searched his pocket for a pen while trashing for the tag of the bouquet.

In the meantime, he heard the humming coming closer and closer to the door. It was a sweet melody, one he had loved since he was a kid, that brought a selfish smile to his face. Who was the world to tell him they weren’t meant to be, if their minds aligned like that?

Azriel found the pen and, leaning against the brick wall, scribbled down a quick note on the tag. His handwritten was shaky, not neat nor perfect, and he felt a bead of sweat rolling down the corner of his neck.

Once he was finished, he tucked the tag between the stems and placed the bouquet delicately on the ground. He mentally kicked himself at his stupidity, and when he rose back, he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

He was the shadowsinger. The spymaster. People feared him, respected him, and he had had enough women in his bed to know he could get them. They liked him, men and women, and he had never had an issue before. And there he was, leaving a bouquet of flowers like a coward because he couldn’t knock.

All because of the stupid melody.

His impulsive thoughts won again and he crouched to write down his name at the bottom of the note. Only having his good luck ran out and knock his head against a pot when he rose back up. Azriel cursed under his breath at the sharp pain, but wasn’t fast enough to catch the pot.

He didn’t know what worried him most – that he was sad because the humming stopped, or that it stopped. Azriel didn’t need his fae hearing or shadows to hear the approaching steps, and he quickly retreated into the darkness. Just as he appeared in the other corner of the streets, hidden from the public’s eye, the door opened.

“Hello?”

Azriel let his lips part in surprise when Elain didn’t peer at the street, but you. The stranger with a memorizing smell that had been stood up. The girl whose bags he had dropped in the middle of the street.

You were wearing a stained apron, and had been clearly cooking. Azriel felt the sudden need to know what. What you were doing that made you look like that, that made Azriel’s rebellious heart jump.

He watched as you looked to both sides of the street, smiling to acquittances and finally noticing the bouquet. Your eyebrows almost rose to your hairline and an adorable shade of pink covered your chest. You quickly covered your mouth, but Azriel’s bones reverberated at the sound of your giggle. He found himself wondering if you were curling your toes in your shoes.

Leaning down, you picked the flowers and Azriel’s stupid smile, that had no right to be on his face, dropped.

He had signed it.

Your eyes scanned the tag and read through his words at a sickening speed. Sorry about last week, hope I wasn’t too much of a dick. Yours, Azriel

His shadows swallowed him before he could ask the Cauldron to dig a hole and swallowed him, but he could still see your content smile and have the utter and complete realization that your smile shadowed Elain’s.

The dance

“When have you ever cleaned up so nice?” Cassian asked him as he invaded his room, with no warning.

“Whenever you’re not around to see it” he answered back, not tearing his eyes away from his tie’s knot on the mirror. “So I don’t eclipse you”

Cassian scoffed and threw himself on the perfectly made bed. Azriel didn’t bother asking him to move, because while any other time he would have kicked him out, his bed was the farthest point from his work desk. Where, between patrol reports and court’s correspondence, were a month’s worth of letters between you two.

His hands trembled even more at the thought of his brother finding about it. He was already nervous enough at the premise of dancing with Elain tonight, at the thought of her wearing the bracelet he had sent her that matched his tie. Azriel didn’t need to think about the pointless, certainly not important letters that he shared with you.

“Nesta has kicked me out of our room” the male proclaimed. “She’s determinated to get to the ball on time. As if me not seeing her now would change our early departure”

“You’re disgusting” Azriel met his brother’s stare through the mirror.

“And you’re jealous. When was the last time you got laid?” Cassian raised her eyebrows suggestibly. “Anyone in mind for this particularly night?”

“Nesta, if you leave her unsatisfied”

“Can it be me if I’m unsatisfied?”

Cassian’s laugh boomed through the room and took Azriel’s mind out of the last hours’ frenzy. He had wanted to be excited, had been thinking about Feyre’s birthday ball for months now. Thinking about how Elain and him would dance, proving Rhysand that they were a match and should be together.

Indeed, Azriel had been excited about it until a month ago. When he found himself cutting his encounters with Elain short when a note came through, falling asleep with thoughts of a different woman on his mind.

He hadn’t seen you since the incident of the flowers, and his intention was to never see you again. But then, he had found a note on his training room, delivered by Nuala. I’m glad we both agree you were a dick that day, but if my forgiveness has you loosing nights of sleep, I forgive you. Although, for the next time, don’t be disappearing from a crime scene – those flowers were expensive.

Azriel had found it and had scoffed a laugh, a sound foreign to his ears. He had replied and had sent Nuala back to your house, with an apologetic smile.

Seems that I keep encountering you when I don’t mean to. Those flowers were for someone else, but I’m happy to hear that I will be sleeping soundly from now on. Sorry for your pot. If it makes you feel better, fate was my witness and gifted me with a nasty bump.

Two notes evolved to another two, then to four more, and suddenly, Azriel found himself sending you noted almost every day, sharing stupid facts and reading about your day.

“Is it because Elain?”

The mood was broken and shattered at the word of the fae, and Azriel finished his knot to turn and look at Cassian.

“Don’t judge me. I’m not Rhys ‘don’t you dare to touch my sis-in-law’ or Mor ‘bad choices are made’” Cassian lifted his arms slightly. “I’m just curious”

“Am I cleaning up nice for my high-lady and friend’s birthday ball? Yes, unlike you, I do care about having a clean presence” he looked down to his jacket. “Your shirt is stained with Nesta’s lipstick”

“Oh, I plan to let her stain more than my shirt” he chuckled.

Azriel rolled his eyes and turned towards the door without saying anything else.

He walked with Cassian through the long hallways until they reached the main hall, talking about training and pointless topics. The usual knot on his stomach loosened a bit when he was with him, even if he wouldn’t say it out loud. He knew Cassian only looked for him in those social events for his sake – because he knew how much Azriel struggled with the attention, with the looks.

For the first minutes, he stood by his side silently as Cassian greeted different people that Azriel didn’t want to talk with. He engaged short conversations with his family, laughed softly at Mor’s attempt of escaping with the wine, and entertained Nyx briefly.

He kept looking at the main doors, waiting for Elain to walk through so he could regain that excitement, that want, that seemed to seep through his fingers lately.

When the first dance started, Rhysand took Feyre’s hand and dragged her through the floor, looking like a regius couple. Mor took a giggling Nyx in her arms and danced in the corner, and Cassian used the opportunity to sneak with Nesta.

Azriel quickly found himself in the middle of dancing couples, and he swore the knot of his tie got tighter. He looked around for Elain, tried to identify her sweet smell or long hair, but he didn’t find her.

“She’s not coming, you know?” Amren’s voice appeared to her right, and he turned to find her leaning against a wall.

“Who’s not coming?”

“Elain” she explained. “She left yesterday with Lucien to get to know his court. Thought you, of all people, should know”

Had he been so out of it that he hadn’t notice it? Had he tried so hard to think about her that he hadn’t talked to her? He tried to think of a conversation where Elain told him that she wouldn’t be assisting, but he realized that he hadn’t talked to her in the last few days.

Actually, he had just sent the bracelet and guessed she would wear it. Part of his excitement wore down at the news, and he regretted agreeing to the ball.

Amren raised a brow at his fallen expression.

“Are you still after her, boy? Knowing she has a mate?” she inquired. “Thought you were smarter than that”

“You don’t understand. None of you do” he said, trying to sound angry. Trying to sound convinced, as convinced as he had been when he met her, but his voice sounded deflected.

“Maybe we don’t, but don’t fool yourself thinking the Cauldron makes mistakes. You’re not above its power”

Azriel scoffed at the answer he had heard before too many times, and faced away from Amren. She could try to convince him all she wanted, but his mind was up. As he walked out of the room, evading dancing couples, he forced the disappointment down his chest, where most of his feelings lay forgotten.

Of course she wouldn’t come. Of course, all those glances meant she was nervous around him, not reciprocated feelings. Of course, someone like Azriel wouldn’t end up with someone like her.

He loosened his tie briefly as he exited the ball, only to stop close to the entrance. He looked back at his family, dancing happily in the main floor. Even Amren, who didn’t dance, talked with a content half-smile to Varian, who had attended in behalf of his court.

Through all his centuries, all he had wanted was to have someone to dance with. To hold while the world fell apart, not to endure it on his own. Azriel felt a rebel knot climb to his throat, making the sight in front of him blurry.

Like a fool, he had thought Elain would be that person. After Mor, he thought he had found his person. Azriel looked once more to the ball before hastily turning around and colliding full force with a person entering the ball.

“Damnit!”

“Careful – “

Azriel didn’t get to stop the body falling to the ground, and he almost fell right above it. He gathered his footing back before he could cause more damage, and looked down to the incomer.

Something in his chest cracked when he saw the color of the dress pooling in the ground, the same one he wore on his loosened tie. The exact same color in the bracelet now forgotten in Elain’s room, that he had chosen so carefully and thoughtfully. He blinked past the initial shock and muttered an apologetic smile, offering his hand.

His eyes traveled up the wrinkled but beautiful dress to an exposed cleavage adorned with a simple blue gem. He didn’t register the similarities with his own siphons when his eyes met yours, both widened at the same time.

Centuries of waiting, of uncertainty, were suddenly nothing when the bond snapped loud in his soul. It rattled his bones and threatened to send him to the ground too.

“Y/N” he whispered, the room around him quietened. It was the first time he said your name out loud, and it felt divine on his lips. “What…?”

“Hm, Feyre’s birthday” you accepted his hand and let him pull you up, and he almost sent you crashing against his chest. “She invited me”

“That’s good”

Your eyes didn’t leave his for a while, as the bond settled for the two of you. Something had called you when you saw that dress, hanging beautifully in the window’s shop. You never wore that color, never attended to those parties. But the premise of seeing the owner of the notes you had been receiving lately, who your friends were tired of hearing about, was too appealing.

Somehow, buying that dress, coming late to the ball because of pointless delays, felt like a trick of fate.

“The bond” Azriel supplied uselessly, and you nodded for moral support way too enthusiastically.

“Yeah. It’s… here” you pressed your free hand against your chest, squeezing the one trapped in Azriel’s warm grip. “I didn’t think it would feel like this”

“It feels right”

Azriel couldn’t explain what had been missing until now. A void that had lived for so long in a place he couldn’t reach that now pulsated loudly where he needed it. He expected to be nervous, to be overjoyed, but above all of that, Azriel felt calm. At peace with himself as he stared into your eyes.

Time didn’t exist and the rest of the world was insignificant, only you mattered. And he could have spent an eternity looking at you if you hadn’t taken the first step and hugged him. If he thought the snapping bond was intense, your body against him robbed his breath.

His hand moved by itself to the back of your head, fingers tangling between your locks and pressing your face closer to him. The other arm rounded your waist, until you both belonged together like one soul.

The song ended and you looked up from his arms. With a small smile, you looked down at the loosened tie.

“Would you like to dance?”

Azriel nodded quickly and turned his back to the exit, your hand in his. People stared, his family looked at him, but all he could see was how blind he had been not to notice you were what was missing.

The Suriel 2

In the busy morning, few people stopped to see what lurked in the shadows of Velaris. They walked and rushed to their meeting points, talked with friends and families in the corners, and enjoyed the sunny day in the square. They all held interesting stories, futures that the Suriel fed on.

But he didn’t look at any of them. Only at the male standing a few feet away from him. He was sure his shadows had noticed him by now, that they knew his scent and presence, but decided not to warn his master. After all, he was no threat, just a mere spectator of fate.

The shadowsinger seemed to doubt between two books from a stand. He was oblivious to the world around him, but the Suriel knew. He noticed how he had changed in just five months, how not only his scent screamed a mating bond but also his soul. The way he stood, walked, talked.

As if the world didn’t own him anything else, as if he was finally the main character of his story.

The tall, dangerous male picked up the thicker book and paid for it with a small smile. He asked the woman in charge of the stand for a blue ribbon and tied the bag with it. Azriel turned around and distanced himself from the Suriel, not noticing his looming presence. But as he got farther and farther away from him, the Suriel was pleasantly surprised to notice shadows gathering at his feet, curious but not aggressive.

He showed them a terrifying smile, all teeth and cruelty – and still, they only brushed the torn parts of his cape in silent gratitude.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Let me know if you want me to do an Azriel taglist!

Azriel taglist:

@boygeniuses10 , @tothestarsandwhateverend

Missed target taglist (will be added if I make a second part)

@kayjayjwrites , @phoenix666stuff , @lupinswolfsbanes , @bionic-donut , @tothestarsandwhateverend , @favsrachz , @dwlyniii , @mischiefmanagers , @sassybluebird , @saltedcoffeescotch , @andrewgarfield2022 , @leeknows-wife , @marscardigan , @celear , @sstrohma , @pricklepearbloom , @blackgirlmagicforever , @emiliasdump , @erencvlt , @that-one-little-soybean , @meshellexplosionmurder , @atrxidxs , @feyretopia , @sidthedollface2 , @littlelunatica , @historygeekqueen, @ash-mcj , @haileycannotcometothephonern , @thesunloveschips , @meritxellao , @impossibelle , @kalulakunundrum , @nebarious , @cullenswife , @emryb , @sandramalikstyles-blog

[rapunzelbro]

The Act of Stealing a Loved One |3| (Stanley Pines x Reader)

Hi y'all! I am overwhelmed by the amount of love this fanfiction is getting. Thank you so much, I am glad y'all love it and hope you enjoy it!

Story Guide

Why the hell was he doing this? Maybe it was to try and make up for all that he did to his brother, or maybe it was to attempt to not let Ford ruin something good that finally came into his life. Whatever the reason was, Stan was putting fake glasses on, wearing an outfit similar to what his nerdy brother would wear, he was going to the show. He was going to see you perform.

“God why does he dress so dorky” Stan muttered in annoyance as he looked himself over in the mirror. He adjusted the glasses that sat awkwardly on the bridge of his nose and grabbed the poster before heading out to his car. He drove off to where the show was taking place, in somebody’s basement.

“Do you think he’s going to come tonight?” you muttered, looking at Gabs.

Their band was currently tuning their instruments and checking over equipment in the basement, preparing for the performance.. How the neighbors didn't complain was beyond you, they probably are used to this by now.

“Do you want the truth or for me to lie?” Gabs glanced at you with an annoyed look in her eye, sighing, she continued to tune her guitar “...I don't know why you're still with that bum. You invited him to how many shows now and he just wont show?” She rolled her eyes, directing her attention back towards you.

“He’s super busy, and I get that... His degree is super difficult, so I get it” You muttered, beginning to untangle some of the wires you shoved inside your bag in a hurry “..if he doesn't show tonight, I might just have to talk about where this relationship is going.. I really just don't get why he doesn't support me on this..” you mutter frowning slightly as you progress with the mess of wires

“If that's what you feel is best then do it, besides, you'll always have me and the band,” Gabs smiles softly at you placing her guitar down as she looks at the clock on the wall “Doors open in ten, maybe you'll see him before the show starts.. I'm hoping for his sake or I swear I will beat the absolute sh-”

“Gabs! You're not beating up my boyfriend” you laugh, gently shoving her “But I hope he’ll be there too..”

Stan was glad he got there when he did, considering the fact it was a basement show it was pretty packed. Parking was a bitch, so he ended up parking on the front lawn to which everyone else followed suit once they saw him do it.

“Ford, don't make me regret this…” he muttered getting out of the car before heading to the door. Ignoring the looks of everyone else, he stepped inside. The house smelt of cigarettes and booze, it was rather full at the moment with groups of people talking. It made Stan stick out like a sore thumb while he was trying to find you in the room.

“Holy shit! Ford you actually came!” He heard a female voice yell out before he was suddenly embraced. Looking to see who embraced him, he saw the girl from the photo on Ford's desk, it was you. Returning the hug Stan smiled “I apologize for missing your other shows I got too caug-” he was cut off by you kissing him, shutting him up completely.

Was this wrong? 100%. If Ford ever knew about this he would be in even deeper shit. But the way your soft lips felt against his rough ones pushed that thought aside. Your scent of vanilla, mixed with cigarettes was like a drug he craved. He couldn't get enough of it. You pulled away after a few seconds looking into his eyes smiling

“As much as I love your rambling, shush. I'm just glad you're here!” she said giddily as she wrapped her arms around his neck, the Vodka you tried hiding with a piece of strawberry gum, hitting his nose in the closeness.

“Noted. You look absolutely beautiful, now when do you perform?” Keep your cool Stanley shit!

“Oh I'm on after the first band! Ya know… There's rumors of some school scouting agent showing up tonight.. god can you imagine if it was true?” You smiled, a sparkle in your eyes as you speak “The band and I, in the big leagues..On tour never having to look back? That's the dream” you removed your hands from Stan’s neck

When you pulled away he turned his attention to your ensemble for the show. Your hair was done with brushed out curls, falling towards the low cut neckline of the red shirt you had on underneath the black leather jacket that completed the look.

How the actual hell did Ford score you?

No seriously how the hell.

“Regardless, we got a huge following now, the word got out about us all over campus and some parts of your school so whatever happens I don't give a shit. This is so fun!” you giggle, slightly tipsy from the shots you definitely didn't have earlier

“Whatever makes you happy, I'll support you” Stan smiled gently, squeezing your hand.

He hates that he just added fuel to the fire of lies he is making, but he didn't want to crush your dreams. Stan knows his brother was definitely not supportive of your music career, he knows that he would probably tell you to be more realistic, that's just how his brother was. Stan wishes that somehow, he would have been the one you met, he longed for someone exactly like you. Carefree, up for the thrill of not knowing what's next, and not giving a shit while doing it.

“And that's why I love you Ford” Y/n says, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Y/n! Come on, we have to figure out all our shit before we go on! You can make out with him later!” Jamie yelled out to you, holding up one of his drumsticks, pointing out at you

“Ugh, I'm coming! See you on stage lover boy” You kiss him one last time before running off with Jamie.

God he was down bad

Taglist @bluepanda08 @slay-thou-pookie @karmaisacatluzi @fries11 @marvelous-maniac @cherryblom @leo4242564 @zuzzybakaemperiment @boba-is-a-soup @bigteefsmallbrain @originalalienlawyershark @darlingdia1007 @kismogizmo @heysam09 @mottysith @fudosl

[subbmissivesuccubus]

R-V (Renngoku X Fem!ReaderX Uzui)

Part 4 of my A-Z Series <3 <3 <3

Part 1; Part 2; Part 3;

┊┊❁ཻུ۪۪♡ ͎. ｡˚ 　　°┊┊❁ཻུ۪۪♡ ͎. ｡˚ 　　°┊┊❁ཻུ۪۪♡ ͎. ｡˚ 　　°

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

As long as it makes you happy, the two men are willing to try whatever you want atleast once. If they try it and didn't like it, they'll let you know but they can atleast say they gave it a fair shot. Of course, they won't compromise on their hard limits so you won't get them to be submissive for you but, they do enjoy it when you take the lead, being more assertive in your affection towards them. If there are any kinks, role-plays, toys or any general change in your sex life that you want to attempt, they're always ready to try it out for you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

You thought you had good stamina thanks to your life as a demon slayer. With your breathing techniques and rigorous training, your durability in bed also improved and you can even delay your orgasm using your breathing skills if you so choose. But you quickly realized your endurance was nothing compared to your two lovers. To be fair, you had to please both of them, but even so, their stamina was no joke. Perhaps it came with being hashira's as the control they had over their bodies and breathing was much better than yours. They could fuck you for hours and not show signs of slowing down, their cocks still erect despite dumping numerous loads inside you. And just like you, they can also delay their climax, edging themselves as they indulge in your body, loving your whines of frustration as they make you cum over and over again (you even challenged them once- telling them that you will use your breathing techniques to not orgasm no matter what they do to you. How wrong you were. Not even your breathing techniques could defeat their skills in the bedroom) without giving you the satisfaction of filling you up with their seed. They absolutely loved breaking you down into a sobbing, slobbering mess, eyes rolled to the back of your head and body convulsing from all the pleasure so having the stamina to get you to that point was pretty handy. Of course, things would have been a lot more difficult for everybody if you were a regular, non demon slaying person who'd have to clock out after a few rounds. But you're strong enough to take it <3 another reason why they adore you so much.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

At the time that they live in, sex toys are limited to just things one can insert inside themselves or objects used to clamp onto things. While Rangoku isn't one to use toys- the man thinking that two cocks to stuff into your pretty holes is enough- Uzui loves them. There's something about plunging a wooden cock inside you over and over again, giving him a perfect view of your red face, sweat dripping down your brow as you whined at the feeling, without being distracted by his own pleasure. His favorite though, and Rengoku agrees this is nice as well, is to use clamps on your nipples. Your little squeal of pain as your nipples are harshly pinched by a clamp, your sensitive bud squeezed tightly instantly makes his cock hard. Attach those clamps with a couple of chains and Uzui will pull on them as he fucks you, the threat of the clamps getting tugged off your nipples making your pussy tighten around his cock.

If you're really bratty and naughty, he might just use a clamp on your poor little clit...yikes.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Both of the men love to tease you and it's simultaneously amazing yet exhausting. Rengoku enjoys teasing you with words, whispering naughty things to you at inappropriate times to get you hot and bothered. Out shopping? Hanging out with friends? Before an important meeting? "I can't wait until we get home, my love. Oh, the things I want to do to your body~" "You're such a pretty little girl, you know that? And you'll look even prettier on your knees, sucking my cock~" "Mind your attitude or I might just have to throw you over my knee and punish your ass. You think I won't do it in front of your friends?"

Uzui is much more handsy with his teasing but, of course, he's a man of a filthy tongue and is capable of reducing you brain to mush with a few words. His favorite is to tease you with some gropes and touches, especially in public. Your beet red face after he lightly tapped your ass while you walked is something he enjoys immensely. Unlike Rengoku who'll take you as soon as you get privacy, Uzui will continue to tease, riling you up even more. "Such a desperate princess, aren't you? What's with that look on your face? Is you pussy already wet and desperate for me? All I did was lightly touch you, sweetheart. If you want my cock, you're going to have to earn it."

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Uzui let's out these growls from deep within his chest, the sound making your pussy clench around his cock. He also has a habit of letting out breathy laughs, especially when he's gotten you fucked out and cock drunk. He looks down at you, hair matted to his sweaty forehead with a cocky smirk on his face as he laughs at your expression, the sound making your body shudder. Uzui is one to indulge in dirty talk however so his moans are mixed with his filthy, filthy words: "Look at you- fuck- poor baby~ Crying all over my mmm- my cock. Does it feel good honey? Hmm? My fat cock- fuck yes- splitting your tiny pussy open? Hahaha- fuck- Ooo~ You're such a fucking slut for us- I love it~"

Rengoku is more vocal when he feels pleasure, his moans sounding heavenly. There was something about seeing his face red and eyebrows furrowed, mouth open as he moans in pleasure, your pussy squeezing his cock so deliciously. He'll hug you close as he fucks you, moaning directly into your ear which makes you feel so lightheaded you're surprised you haven't passed out. "So good- so good. Darling- your pussy- ah- ah- fuck- feels so good~""Good girl. good girl. Ah yes- fuck that's tight- just relax baby. Let me- oh god- let me fuck this ass~"

Your head always feels loopy and overstimulated thanks to the sex, but couple their noises while they fuck you? You need a two day break to recover. While individually they might not be the most vocal- when they fuck you together, perhaps fueled with the desire to have your attention be focused on them, they don't bite down their moans and groans and growls. The worst (or best?) is when they're double stuffing you, one cock in your pussy with the other in your ass as they both take an ear to moan into, making your brain short-wire as your assaulted by pleasure and their heavenly voices and moans.

[hl-obsessed]

✨💎 a yuzu grows in brooklyn by @stylinsoncity

(M, 67k) harry is a recent implant in new york and a young chef opening a restaurant called yuzu. louis, a music teacher and broadway lover, has been around the block for a while. in a city that's so fast-paced, they're slow to catch on to each other.

✨ You Took My Heart By Surprise by @loveislarryislove

(T, 39k) There is reason to believe Prince Harry’s life is in danger. After a failed kidnapping attempt, Louis is assigned to guard Harry around the clock. He is the best at what he does, but he has a tendency to not get along with clients. Louis and Harry start off on the wrong foot, but it soon becomes clear that neither is at all what the other expected.

~*~*~

Queen Anne met Louis’ eyes. “While your file documents many remarkable accomplishments, it also contains a number of early terminations. Why is that?”

“It all depends on what your priorities are,” he said slowly. “If your primary concern is protection, I’m your guy. If you’re looking for someone polite…” He shrugged. “I don’t generally try to be rude, but social graces aren’t what I’m being paid for. If someone values being sucked up to over being protected, that’s their problem.”

“You seem quite well-mannered,” Anne said, frowning.

Both Nick and Louis snorted at that. “You’ve only known me for ten minutes,” Louis said. “Give it time.”

✨ Put It On Me by @stylinsoncity

(M, 15k) Harry's bachelor party doesn't go as planned.

✨ so many birthdays (that I missed) by @tofiveohfive

(NR, 11k) Louis doesn’t know nearly enough about science and the cosmos to explain how every atom in his being stands to attention; how his body immediately knows who he’s bumped into.

It’s somewhat underwhelming when the first word he hears out of Harry’s mouth after twelve months is, “Oh.”

AU inspired by Julia Michaels’ Into You

✨ No Place I'd Rather Be by @iamasphodelknox

(E, 39k) Harry's had a crush on his stepfather's friend for six years. A small crush. A tiny crush.

Honestly, if you don't look at Harry's dozens of poems about Louis Tomlinson, the crush is practically infinitesimal. They haven't even had a conversation.

But then a car wreck prompts them to finally have a conversation.

Christmas works its magic, Harry pines, Louis fonds, and they just might make it.

✨ The Places I Share With You by @iamasphodelknox

(M, 7k) Five times Louis comes home to Harry and one time he's ready to welcome Harry home.

The process of Louis and Harry finding home in each other.

Sequel/Coda/Epilogue to No Place I'd Rather Be.

Primal and Divine by WordsInBloom28

(E, 33k) Embarking on a mission to save his pack, Louis is pushed to the brink after his friend is killed in a dangerous forest. Awaiting the graces of death, Louis is saved by a peculiar healer who lives alone in the woods.

Throughout his healing process, Louis forms an unlikely bond with the healer and, with it, a life of serenity. His body grows stronger and his heart grows fonder, allowing love to take root.

In order to protect his new found peace, Louis and his companion work together to fight against the evil that threatens to take it all away.

It was always you by @defences-down

(T, 1,3k) It's their first Christmas living together, and Harry has been trying to figure out how to talk to Louis about his feelings for weeks.

He could never have expected what would happen next.

Ideal: An Advent Fic by @iamasphodelknox

(M, 40k) All Louis wanted was some god-damned time to write his novel. He didn’t expect to move his and Liam’s entire production of a Christmas variety show to a small inn in Vermont just before the holidays. He didn’t expect to save Niall’s inn. He didn’t expect Liam to fall in love. He definitely didn’t expect to fall in love himself. And he certainly didn’t expect it all to feel so much like a Christmas movie.

Oh hell. There’s a lot of things Louis didn’t expect.

A White Christmas au, complete with drama, fluff, choreographed dance numbers, and idiotic boys falling in love. Just your typical Christmas fun.

Frankincense-ational by @londonfoginacup

(T, 31k) Harry Styles works at the Hillsyde Library with his friend Zayn and best mate Niall. It’s December, which means Christmas, which should be the happiest month of the year…

Except Niall just broke up with his boyfriend, Zayn needs to let up on the rules a little, and the library is getting their fire alarm system replaced, which means that for the next few weeks there are going to be firemen patrolling the library ‘looking for fires’ while the system is down.

Harry almost hits one of them with his car right off the bat - and of course he’s the hot one.

Happy Christmas, here’s to many more.

Is that a candy cane in your pocket? by @kingsofeverything

(E, 4,8k) Louis accuses Harry of shoplifting. Harry was definitely not shoplifting.

They work it out.

Close To You by yourgorgeouscolors

(E, 5,7k) “You’re lovely,” Louis rasps out. He feels so close to Harry in a way that's different from the other intimate sex positions they’ve tried. He can see Harry, feel him all over. Feel the way he’s clenching down on his cock as he adjusts. He can feel Harry’s hot breath prickling his skin, and can feel his body everywhere. Each point of contact feels like a zap of electricity.'

Or, Harry and Louis try a new sex position.

Listen To Your Heart by @chloehl10

(E, 35k) Are you kidding me right now?

I… No? Louis frowned, feeling angry now. It wasn’t fair, he knew that, but at the same time, he couldn’t help his feelings. It felt like this had been brewing for weeks, and this was it. Give it a rest, Harry.

Why are you such a brat? Why can’t you just be happy for me for once?

You think I want to hear about you kissing James? Really, H? There’s things I just don’t need to know, okay? I’m your best mate, not your fucking relationship advisor…

***

Louis has always been comfortable being Harry’s one and only. When Harry starts to branch out, Louis has a hard time letting him go.

Harry is very lucky to have someone who listens to what he has to say, despite the fact that he’s deaf. He’s finally feeling like he’s coming into himself, but Louis seems bothered by his newfound confidence.

(do you think it's easy) being of the jealous kind by @the-larry-way

(T, 0,8k) Harry is mad and Louis isn't exactly sure why.

(or Louis comes home smelling of another omega and Harry is near heat and jealous)

Make a Dime Go One Hundred by screwstyles

(E, 18k) “Hey, Haz,” he says, encouraged in equal parts by the weed and the cocoon they seem to have created around themselves. “Do you think you could trust anyone enough to have full control over you?” he asks into the night, hoping his sentence won’t break their bubble. It doesn’t, if the way Harry’s eyes meet his is any indication.

“What do you mean?” Harry’s voice is barely above a whisper, rough from the singing they had done earlier. Louis wants to keep this memory forever.

“You know, if someone wanted to, uhm,” he coughs, “to tie you up, or blindfold you.”

-

Friends to Lovers AU: Harry volunteers to help Louis experiment with bondage. Things don’t go exactly to plan.

✨ Chestnuts Roasting... And All That by @elsi-bee

(M, 47k) Louis is apparently the only person at his new job who is single as can be. It’s not a big deal to just tell his new colleagues that he has a boyfriend, right? Until he has to make this imaginary boyfriend magically appear at the office holiday party. Cue fake relationship antics with a certain someone who is more than willing to play along.

Linger by @yourpricelessadvice

(E, 136k) Louis has a truckload of painful memories and a custody arrangement where a family could’ve been. The last thing he’s looking for is a new relationship.

Harry has accepted that he’s not made for relationships and isn’t interested in getting burnt again.

It’s a good job they’ve both got meddling friends.

° ✨ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ✨ °

more recs | recs masterpost

° ✨ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ✨ °

[semisolidmind]

That anon made me think about a hypothetical scenario of Peng trying to move up on Reader, but tbh I don't think Peng would EVER stand a chance against the twice as bad AU monkey husband duo.

Azure contantly gets the L but he is nice to Reader + he's friends enough with the two warlords to not make them immediately consider killing him if he treats Reader a lil too nicely in the beginning.

He's suspicious but he's a likeable guy, so it's not too weird of him to be genuinely polite to the queen of FFM.

Peng, though? bro's getting COOKED. literally. He's not slick like Azure, if he tried anything it'd be over for him. He's a bird-shaped mean girl, so it would immediately draw suspicion on everyone if he suddenly started being super nice to Reader after being so vocal of his disapproval towards a human queen.

I bet Wukong and Macaque (especially macaque since peng likes antagonizing him so much) would love to have a reason to destroy him in a fight 💀

FR.

like, this feathery fuck could make that mental and emotional switch from "ugh, mortals" to "but this one's kinda ok/how funny would it be to steal her" and you can bet the boys (but mostly macaque) would be on them in a second. there is no way they wouldn't clock the birds' intent the minute the bastard sidles up to reader. they sorta trust azure, they're fine with yellowtusk, but the monkeys KNOW that you canNOT trust peng.

any time the bird has the chance to get reader alone, macaque makes sure to be there or at least within striking distance. he knows reader doesn't trust peng either (and why would she, after their history of shit talking and belittling her), so he's not worried about her falling for any smooth talking, but he is worried that they might cross a line.

i could see this situation coming to a head with peng making some sort of big move on reader, mac hears it and stops it, then challenges them to a fight (like a serious challenge, to the death kinda shit).

and while wukong wants to make that bird into a roast as much as his brother, he knows that it'll be important for macaque to beat the shit out of peng by himself. despite knowing how dangerous the monkey bros can be, peng continued to poke and prod and test the limits of macaque's patience. the monkey king won't deprive his brother of getting to serve some well-deserved comeuppance. in fact, he makes a sort of show of it, announcing the fight and inviting his allies to watch.

the battle is a brutal one. normally wukong is the one to fly into a jealous rage at any slight against reader, while mac is the one to keep a cool head. but this time, the shadowy simian lets aaaaall that carefully controlled anger out in a truly vicious display of power. the bird demon has a tough time keeping up with their rival's attacks. though both combatants take some heavy hits, it's clear that peng is losing.

like. macaque could beat peng to death here, and there really wouldn't be anything anyone could do. the bird broke a rule. they pissed off the wrong demon at the wrong time. given their history, nobody has any reason to stop macaque from slaughtering his rival, and it'd be within his rights to kill them for disrespecting his wife. wukong finds it all far too hilarious to do anything but laugh at peng getting their ass handed to them, and reader knows it's going too far but won't speak on peng's behalf (both because she doesn't like them and she feels like she has no right to deprive mac of his revenge).

azure would have to beg a pardon on behalf of his stupid chicken of a sworn brother before they actually die.

wukong is hesitant to grant it. azure knows what that birdbrain did. they laid hands on the monkey king's queen, and he knows wukong has killed others for far less. that miserable pile of feathers should consider themselves lucky that the monkey king hasn't joined in on their punishment. if azure didn't want his lackey to get beaten bloody, he should've kept them in check. not to mention the fact that peng has had this macaque-issued beat down coming for a loooong time.

by the end of it, peng is nothing more than a crumpled pile of bloody feathers in the dirt. azure and yellowtusk have to scrape them off the ground and portal back to camel ridge in disgrace and defeat. they don't show their faces on flower fruit mountain for a good long while.

as for macaque...despite being clawed, tired, and a little bruised, he reigns victorious. in his adrenaline induced stupor, still covered in dirt and blood, he storms right up to reader and steals a nice, long kiss. it leaves her lightheaded, his hands on her the only thing keeping her up. he huskily promises that they'll "celebrate his victory" later. reader feels a little faint.

wukong would normally protest his brother getting peaches all to himself, but after that fight? eh, he's earned it.

[poppurini]

him as a private tutor

leona, jade, malleus, lilia & gn reader

magicless au, platonic, for fun

˖ leona kingscholar

“Just Leona. Let me see your textbook.” no introductions or anything, just straight to the point. probably doesn’t ask for your name since he already knew. yes he didn’t prepare anything beforehand, no flipping through your syllabus before the actual tutoring because this man just skims through your textbook under twenty minutes and started teaching. yes he’s good at it. unfair, really. sometimes he’ll get a generational shock at the current syllabus though. “The hell are kids learning these days.” “Do you even need these in real life.”

he may seem like an indolent man (and he is) but it’s honestly so impressive of him to be able to understand your syllabus the moment he reads through them and being able to teach you about it.

strictness is 4/10 he doesn’t really care if you didn’t do the homework he assigned bc he’s not gonna be the one failing those exams that determines 70% of your future. yes those were his exact words. he might nag you a little but after that nothing’s on him. clocks off right on time.

˖ jade leech

this mf whips out a whole stack of 9cm tall worth of exercises for you because he thinks it’s funny. eerily friendly. might unintentionally make you feel a little dumb when he does that little inhale and tilts his head slightly, looking genuinely confused as to how you could get this question wrong. wears glasses (i know what jade leech stans are) occasionally. yes those attractive thin framed ones. only when you’re halfway selling off your soul to deal with the mountain of exercises he’s telling you “Oh, you needn’t get all of them completed today.” with that very innocent smile.

strictness is 7/10 he’s scary when he’s strict. might let you off the hook once or twice with incomplete homework (only with valid reasons tho) but afterwards that service smile drops and questions why you’re so reluctant on doing homework. it’s just a 2k word essay. also clocks off right on time even if he’s about to finish teaching a topic he’s not going to provide free labour.

˖ malleus draconia

this man is INSANE literally not one day does he wear a casual outfit to your sessions it’s always professional wear with him. yeaah i’m back with my dress pants dress shirt along with vest plus neat tie malleus only this time he doesn’t have his collar unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up sob sob gotta look clean. intimidating asl but that’s just bc he’s bad at connecting with the younger generations (or anyone, really) however it’s very sweet of him to still try and crack some academic related jokes with a straight face (it’s up to u whether they’re funny or not) hoping you’ll laugh. look he really wants u to open up to him so that u can absorb knowledge better instead of being constantly on edge around him ok

strictness is 9/10 oohlala much like jade he’d close an eye if it’s not a frequent occasion but he demands respect and you constantly putting off the works he assigned to help you clearly shows you don’t think of him as anything. he is patient and nice but only when you deserve it. also he’d delay a maximum of twenty minutes of your time after class ends just to finish talking about the topic.

˖ lilia vanrouge

DEADASS the most fun tutor ever. he’s all malleus ever want to be. bought drinks or snacks on his way and decided to buy you some too (just take it even if the flavours are weird). this man makes you comfortable around him instantly and teaches better than most of your teachers in school. definitely checks out your stationary while you’re suffering in doing matrixes. you can hear him mumbling to himself sometimes “Broo we didn’t even have these back then.” and it’s a squared glue stick. “Can you link me where you got this.” also THE most patient tutor and he won’t even let you feel bad for making him explain the same thing for the nth time. his job is to teach! not scold.

strictness being a 2/10 he’ll still advise you to do your homework but not in a scolding manner. he’ll really gently talk you into doing them for your own good unless you’re outright being disrespectful then the rate changes :p will ask if you want him to continue when the clock strikes end of session. if you don’t, okay! he’ll get back to it next lesson.

[sissylittlefeather]

If I Can Dream: Chapter 6

A/N: Christmas is about to kill me, y'all. Have a chapter of Jo for your Christmas Eve! Love you guys! (Another one might be coming very soon so stay tuned!)

Need to get caught up? Masterlist HERE.

Summary: It's 1975 and Jo Bellamy has been in love with Elvis for 20 years. She doesn't even care that they haven't met yet. All she needs is a chance and she's determined to get one.

But Elvis doesn't feel much like Elvis anymore. What happened to the man he used to be? He's pretty sure he's long gone.

Can a chance encounter with Jo change the ill-fated trajectory of his life?

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, smoking

Word count: ~2.3k

“And you're right.” He mumbles into her neck. “But I'm not just scared; I'm fuckin’ terrified.”

“I know. It's okay.” She turns and puts her arms around him, kissing his forehead gently.

******

Jo flops around in her bed for about 6 hours and then gets up for work. It's amazing how quickly she got used to having Elvis beside her as she sleeps. She puts on her black skirt and red sweater with boots and heads into the office.

For about 9 more hours, she bounces between staring at her word processing machine and the clock, anxious for the end of the day to come. She wonders if he's thinking about her, or if he's realized their tryst was fun, but unrealistic to continue. In some ways, it does seem a little absurd to meet someone and love them so fully and so completely in such a short amount of time. But she knows what she feels and she knows he has to feel something similar. He's everything she ever dreamed he would be and more. She just has to convince him not to let his fear get the best of him.

******

Elvis wanders around the house after Jo leaves looking for traces of her: her glass in the sink, her makeup on the pillowcase, a lipstick kiss she left on his mirror. When he looks at the lip print, he catches his reflection and doesn't cringe for once. There's a light in his eyes that hasn't been there for years. He knows why it's there.

Then he remembers that he sent her away, turns from the mirror, and goes to bed. He sits on the edge of it staring down at the pills in his hand. Does he need them? He hasn't in days. But that was because she had been there, a constant reminder that he had a reason to try to live without them. He carries them into the bathroom and looks at the other bottles, the ones that he takes to get through the day. There's no way he can stop taking all of them just cold turkey like this, but he can cut back. Or he could if she was there. He drops the handful of pills into the toilet and flushes it. Sleeping is nearly impossible, but when he closes his eyes and imagines her next to him, he's able to get a couple of hours.

He drags himself out of bed around 1pm the next day. The Colonel shows up to discuss the New Year's Eve show he's arranged in Michigan. Elvis half listens and hopes he doesn't agree to anything too drastic. On his way out, Colonel Parker corners Jerry.

“He's distracted. What's wrong?” The Colonel gives him a cold stare and Jerry swallows hard.

“He met a girl.”

“He meets girls every day.” Jerry shakes his head.

“No, you misunderstood. He met a girl.” The Colonel looks at him sharply.

“What kind of girl?”

“A good one. She's good for him.” Jerry squares his shoulders defiantly, ready to go to bat for Jo if he has to.

“Hmm. Should I be worried?” Jerry shakes his head, shaggy hair moving wildly.

“No. She might save him.” The Colonel nods and walks out the front door.

Elvis looks at his watch. 2:30pm. Only an hour and half until she comes home.

Home?

Home.

******

At 3:45pm, Jo is ready to crawl out of her skin. She wants to leave so badly to see Elvis. Weirdly, the receptionist comes to her and tells her she has a phone call. She puts out her cigarette and follows the older lady to the phone. Who on earth would call her at work?

“Tink?” His smooth baritone cuts straight to her soul.

“Elvis! Why are you calling me at work?” She's absolutely beaming, trying to keep her voice even.

“Missed ya. But also I wanted to tell you to…” He trails off and Jo can feel him losing his nerve.

“To what, babe?” She hears him sigh.

“To pack some clothes before you come over. I wanted to see if you might wanna stay… for a while…”

“I would love to.” He brightens instantly, so much so that she can practically hear it through the phone.

“Well okay then! I'll see you in a little bit. I love you, honey.” She smiles.

“I love you too, Elvis.” They hang up and the receptionist stares at her.

“Was that really Elvis Presley?” She asks flatly. Jo considers lying for a bit, for his sake, and then decides against it.

“Yeah. It was.”

“Mkay.” Jo nods and starts to walk away. She hears the receptionist whisper under her breath. “Lucky bitch.”

******

When Jo knocks on the door with her suitcase, Elvis actually answers it himself. He grabs her around the waist and kisses her like they've been apart for months.

“Wondered when you'd get here.” He presses his forehead to hers.

“Well, I had to go pack, didn't I?” She gestures to the suitcase and he picks it up to bring it inside.

They settle into dinner, both of them avoiding the inevitable conversation that they started last night. Finally, when there's no more food or ice cream or anything else to distract them, Elvis clears his throat and lights a cigar. They're settled in the TV room, but there's nothing playing on any of the screens.

“Is this a conversation I need to be smoking for?” Jo asks tentatively. He smiles a little and she reaches for his cigar, taking a drag and handing it back to him.

“Tink, I spent the whole day thinking about it.” She expects him to go on, but he doesn't. Her heart is in her throat.

“And what did you come up with?” He lets out a puff of smoke and looks at her.

“I can't stand being without you.” She smiles. “But I have no idea how we make this work.”

“What do you mean?” Now it's her turn to take the cigar.

“Well, I'm not going to change anything about my life. I really can't. And you have a whole life of your own. I can't ask you to uproot all of that just to be with me. What if we… don't… what if it ends? And then what?” She smokes for a bit in silence and then speaks softly.

“What if I die tomorrow?” He blinks and his eyes flash with something he's not ready to admit.

“What the hell are you talkin’ about, honey?”

“What if I'm driving to work and one of those big trucks hits my car and I die?”

“Don't even talk like that.” He takes the cigar back, gritting his teeth.

“What if it happens in three years? What if you die?” Elvis is visibly uncomfortable with the way this conversation is going.

“You better make your fuckin’ point, Tink.”

“We have no idea what might happen tomorrow. Or in three years. All we have is right now. You can't live your life thinking about all the ways it can go wrong. What kind of adventure would that be?”

“No kind.” She takes the cigar.

“Exactly. So now I'm gonna ask you this. How do you wanna live your life right now?” Elvis looks at the woman in front of him: the one who ran on stage and then threw paper airplanes over the wall to get to him and make sure he was okay, the one who made him leave the house for the first time in too long, the one who convinced him to jump into a freezing pool and then made love to him even when he thought he couldn't, the one who brought him back to life and shows him every second that it's worth living.

“With you.” He reaches out and cups her cheek and she smiles and leans into his hand like a cat. She takes another quick drag and then kisses his palm.

“Then why do we need this big plan? Let's just live and be together until we can't anymore. Isn't that better?” He takes the cigar and puts it out in the ashtray. Jo isn't sure whether she should cry or not, so she just sits and watches him.

“You never cease to amaze me, honey.” He pulls her into his lap straddling his thighs and kisses her lips gently. Then he whispers. “Let's be together until we can't anymore.”

“Yes…” She giggles and nods. He kisses her again with more urgency this time and on the third kiss, both of their mouths are open as their tongues dance wildly against each other. She rolls forward, pushing her skirt up her thighs and presses herself against him. He moans softly into the kiss and grabs her ass with both hands, pulling her in as close as she can get. Reluctantly, she breaks the kiss. “Should we go upstairs?”

“Why?” He kisses her neck and drags his tongue up to her ear– a move he hasn't tried in years. She groans as he nibbles on her earlobe.

“Well, I'd like to do more than just kiss you-”

“We're on a perfectly good couch.”

“Elvis.”

“Tink.” He lifts her up and flips her over so that he's on top of her. “I had this couch made deep like this for a reason.”

“I'll try not to think about how many women you've had on this couch..” She giggles as he kisses down her neck to her collarbone.

“Smart girl. But I have to say, you're my favorite.” He lifts her sweater over her head and off, tossing it across the room. His lips drift down her chest to the place where her bra meets her skin. He gently pulls the cup down and slips his tongue around her nipple. Her back arches as he pulls it into his mouth and then releases it, moving over to her other nipple. “I want this off, honey.”

She nods, sitting up a little to unfasten her bra and take it off. He grunts when he sees her breasts bounce free, leaning down to kiss and nibble her soft skin.

“I bet you say that to all of us.” She lets out a small half-laugh. He stops and pulls back, looking down at her seriously.

“No, I mean it, Tink. I don't think I want any more. Just you.” She holds her hand up to the side of his face and traces the line of his brow down to his jaw and up to his lips. He kisses her fingertips and waits for her to speak, but she doesn't. She just runs her fingers through his hair and down his neck to his shoulder, finally landing at the middle of his chest under his necklace and directly above his heart, her eyes following the path she makes with her hand. He starts to get nervous that he's said something wrong. “Say something, honey.”

Her eyes flit back up to meet his clear blue ones and she opens her mouth, but closes it again.

“What is it?” Now he's really worried. She's never been speechless before. Finally, she speaks so softly he can barely hear her.

“I don't know how to tell you that I think I was meant for you without sounding like I'm crazy.”

“Oh, honey. If you're crazy, then so am I.” He dives into a deep and passionate kiss as she pulls at his clothes, pushing his jacket off of his shoulders and shirt over his head and off. He yanks her skirt down her legs, tearing at her panties with a fire he hasn't felt in years. The need to be close to her is so strong, it overwhelms any sense of doubt or apprehension as she pushes his pants down just enough to free his erection. The next thing he knows, he's on top of her with his cock sliding in and out of her as she whimpers and moans and claws at his back. He groans with the sensation of her wrapped around him as he pounds her with a fervor he didn't know he still had. The heat of their passion is matched only by their love for each other.

“Oh God, Elvis.” She moans in his ear as he hits her g-spot at a relentless pace. Her legs wrap around his waist and he grunts with the change in angle. Their skin burns with sweat in the places where it meets and she whimpers as she feels her climax approach. “Oh fuck!”

Her body shakes involuntarily as her orgasm slams into her like a freight train, rushing through her with the speed and intensity of a lightning bolt. She clings to him as he continues to rut into her while she cums, her pussy throbbing and pulsing around his dick.

“Goddamn, Tink, honey, I love it when you cum.” He moans and slams into her one last time, pressing his forehead to hers as his cock twitches and fills her with warmth.

They lay there, both of them trembling in the aftershocks of their orgasms. He kicks his pants all the way off and then rolls onto his back to settle her against his side with her leg and arm thrown over his body.

“Move in with me.” He whispers into her hair. She picks her head up and looks into his face.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Move in here and we'll be crazy together. You are my big adventure, honey. Live with me.” He holds her chin between his thumb and forefinger as he talks.

“I'm gonna need to pack more than that little suitcase.”

“So that's a yes?”

“That's a fuck yes, babe.” He giggles and tickles her sides excitedly and they laugh together on the big-enough couch, naked and unafraid of the future… for now.

******

What next?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @searchingforgravity @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @polksaladava @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69 @pxpresley @kxnnxy

[voidwizardwholikestheshadows]

could you write something fluffy about Lucifer (obey me) x reader? maybe something along the plot where mc comes back to devildom and they’re happy to be reunited? but you can write whatever you think of, i’m just really in the mood for some Lucifer fluff rn

synopsis -> Lucifer has cared for MC a long long time. He just was never able to show it. Tomorrow is the day they leave back to the Human World and he is struggling with the fact that they are going to leave.

Warnings -> none just fluff

A/N -> omg of course, Luci is my first favorite so I hope I can do him justice, also thanks for being my first request anon even though yours wasn't the first done and for that I apologize. I was really in a writing slump and had a bad block so this isn’t as long as normal but I’m just glad I could get something out for you.

Lucifer knew… he knew that they would have to return to the human realm eventually, but he never wanted to think about it. He didn’t want to lose them; what if they forgot about him and his brothers? He could never handle that. Tomorrow was their last day within the Devildom until next semester; what was he to do while he waited?

Act like they were never there like they didn’t change him and his brothers for the better. No, he was the Avatar of Pride, for fuck’s sake; he prided himself on being able to be calm and composed during any situation. He was the one Diavolo entrusted to make sure everything went according to plan when Diavolo himself could not do something. He was supposed to be in control.

However… however, this- this human was the reason he couldn’t finish his paperwork. The reason he couldn’t focus on anything but how being around them made him feel. He reminisced on their giddy smile when he praised them for doing well on a test he knew would be difficult for them, yet they did well nonetheless.

Did they try so hard for him? He knew how much his brothers cared for their little human, but no demon could match the lengths that Lucifer would go to for them. He scoffed to himself as he leaned back in his chair, staring at the towering stack of paperwork that he needed to read through and sign. His hands were slightly jittery because of his coffee… of course… he just had too much coffee. His hands had never shaken from coffee before. What was wrong with him? 

Look at him, the Avatar of Pride, the eldest of his brothers, reduced to a nervous wreck over the thought of- of- of asking his human out. He should be able to do this quickly; he needed to do it before they left at the end of the day tomorrow.

He had all the females and even males swooning over him at RAD, and he couldn’t even muster up the courage to go talk to them? No, he wouldn’t let his pride be wounded like this. He knew one of his brothers might try to make a move on them before him… what if they said yes? The

thought of that alone had him feeling more energized than before. Lucifer knew he had to do something about it before anybody else could. He looked over at the clock; it was nearing midnight, and he hadn’t even made a dent in the work he was supposed to get done.

That’s when he heard a soft knock at his study door; he could sense their presence. He could feel how nervous they were; he could almost imagine them fidgeting like they did whenever he was around. Maybe that was a sign. 

“Come in,” Lucifer knew how to hide his emotions, hide how he was truly feeling. It was nothing new to him.

That’s when they entered, and he chuckled lightly at their state. Messy bed hair, in pajamas yet still awake, mostly likely having woken up in the middle of the night again. Yet, they still looked fantastic in his eyes. 

“Luci,” the nickname that would make him eliminate anybody else who would dare say it, but when it came to his human, he supposed he could let it slide. 

“Why are you still working?” Their voice was groggy; they definitely must have just woken up. Was their first thought to check on him? 

Before he could answer, they sat down on the other side of his desk, across from him, and grabbed a small stack of papers. They had dark circles under their eyes, obviously exhausted but staying awake just for him.

He tried his best to ignore how that made him feel. He wanted to scold them and tell them off for staying awake when they had class in the morning, but he didn’t want to disturb the peaceful atmosphere, something that he didn’t get to experience quite often.

He didn’t want them to leave. They worked in silence; the only noise was the rustling of paper when it was moved aside and the crackling of the fireplace. Lucifer was so focused that they were passed out on some of his documents when he finally looked up. 

He smirked to himself as he lightly shook his head, pushing the chair back from the desk over the creaky floorboard, hoping it didn’t wake them. They didn’t stir at all; they were clearly a deep sleeper.

He made his way around the mahogany desk, pulled their chair away from it, and picked them up. His desk wasn’t a comfortable place to sleep; he knew that from experience. He had passed out many times at his desk, having some unfortunate pictures be taken in his moments of vulnerability.

His brothers did tend to have a habit of finding him whenever he had a moment of vulnerability. Lifting them into his arms and carrying them back to their room was no problem for Lucifer; he was a demon after all. He had much more strength than your typical man; he knew that they wouldn’t fall for someone so… normal. At least, he hoped.

He carried them down the hall, holding their head as close to him as he could without making them uncomfortable. He didn’t want any of his brothers to see them or him at this moment. It was only the two of them. The cute little snores that came from them made his typically stone-cold heart skip a beat. Maybe that was a cliche term to use, but they always made him feel like his heart skipped a beat.

They always made him feel wanted and safe, whatever the word was. With them, he didn’t have to keep his guard up. With them, he didn’t have to be Lucifer, Avatar of Pride, eldest of his brothers, Diavolo’s right-hand man. He could just simply be Lucifer, and that was good enough for him. 

Once he got to their room, it was a slight struggle to get their door open without waking them. He struggled for a moment until he managed to get the door to creak open. He was just glad they didn’t wake up. He was also pleased that his brothers weren’t awake to see that.

Well… Levi probably was if the light shining out from under his door was any indicator. The rest had pretty decent sleep schedules; Lucifer is always surprised at how Levi never seems tired in the morning. Lucifer needs a bunch of coffee just to keep going some days. Maybe he was getting addicted, but it was always hard for a demon to resist temptation. He shook his head slightly, trying to get rid of

the thoughts about his brothers. He was always worried, paranoid, was what his brothers called it, but Lucifer considered it to be looking out for their best interests. He stepped into their room, made their way over the piles of clothes and other clutter, and made a mental note to remind them to clean up when they weren’t feeling so tired.

He put them on their bed, making sure to move all blankets out of the way so he could put them over them. Their bed was soft and dipped slightly as he set them down. He pulled the blankets over them, and their eyes fluttered open slightly.

They were barely awake but still adorable. They are innocent, especially compared to a demon like him. Maybe that was a reason he was drawn to them in the first place. The urge to corrupt that innocence was strong, but he didn’t want them to see what kind of creature he truly was. He wasn’t sure if they would ever accept him.

“Luci… stay…” Their voice was close to a whisper. “Stay until I fall asleep,” to say Lucifer was shocked was an understatement, but he would never show that. 

“Of course…” His answer was a bit hesitant, not because he didn’t want to stay, he truly truly did, but he had so much to still do but with the way they looked up at him and the fact that they were so comfortable at this moment with him sealed the deal and made him want to stay. 

He truly truly loved them and didn’t want them to leave tomorrow. He would have to do everything in his power to make it a good day for them. He sat down in their desk chair, watching them as they closed their eyes and slowly drifted off to dreamland. He wondered what they dreamt about. Were they ever thinking of him?

Once, he could hear their snores, and Lucifer fully and genuinely smiled in the darkness, only illuminated by the moonlight coming through the window. He carefully made his way out of their room, not wanting to wake them, and slowly, slightly dejected that he couldn’t stay for longer, trudged back to his study. He would make the next day absolutely fantastic for them.

It would be a day to remember. Something they could always remember. He sat back down in his chair and looked at the mountain of paperwork, even amid all this stress and work. He felt happy, genuinely happy. Something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. He was just glad that they cared for him almost as much as he cared for them

[graendoll]

I'm almost through season 6 of the queer EMT show and I have a couple of thoughts I really need to get off my chest.

Before I dive in I want to share an observation. It feels like there are two tiers of main ensemble cast and I'm basing this on the character development of each of them. Tier 1 feels like its Bobby, Buck and Maddie who have gone through the most dramatic character arcs, while tier 2 is Athena, Hen, and Eddie. I can't decide which group Chim is in tbh and this is hardly scientific so...

The point of all that is that everything else I'm going to say is based off my observation that Buck is more fleshed out and developed as a character than Eddie.

So now to the point!

First, Buck absolutely adores Eddie. Like is definitely 100% in love with the man. I'm only on episode 14 of season 6 so I haven't even gotten to the onscreen bi realization or the coming out scene outside of gifs on this here hell site. But currently, the way Buck looks at Eddie is so fucking heart eyed its ridiculous.

The hysteria when Eddie is in danger - the screaming at the mudslide, the absolute hard reboot at the shooting? Buck is completely beside himself at the idea of losing Eddie. He literally cries on Christopher's shoulder at the thought of losing him and Chris losing his dad.

This is not standard BFF behavior, I'm sorry.

And don't even get me started on the couch metaphor...I have too much to say about that to include it here.

But what I do want to talk about is the coma episode. Because I feel like that episode was a purposeful "no-homo" episode and here's why:

Buck is in an alternate universe and runs to Hen and Chim, sees Maddie and Bobby. But Eddie is literally just referenced once as "the angry guy" and his contribution to the entire episode is to bring Christopher to see Buck while hes unconscious. Which is weird!

Yes, Eddie rescued Buck and yes he tells the medical team to do better than their best, but compared to Buck literally hauling Eddie's limp body into an ambulance? It's a pretty vanilla response.

And then he doesn't show up in alternate Bucks reality. This is, i believe, one part writers trying to no homo the thing and one part writers implying that Eddie and Chris are a replacement for Bucks "real family" which undermines the entire guardian arc in a very weird way. So it definitely seems, during s6 at least, that Buddie was flat out not happening (again...I'm on e14 only).

So if Buck is in love with Eddie through narrative and acting choices (based on recent PR from Oliver S implying hes lowkey played Buck queer) where is Eddie at? What gives?

I'll tell you what gives.

Eddie is the most repressed motherfucker on the planet. Eddie goes to a call involving a vibrator getting stuck in a woman and he barely clocks that's what's happening.

This man has only had missionary sex for the purpose of baby making and it shows. I have definitely HC'd that Eddie is demi but he's also just locked down so tight. No wonder he spent a whole season beating the crap out of random strangers in illegal fights!

So, what's my point?

My POINT is this. Eddie may be queer underneath all that repression, but he has no idea. None. Zero. Zip. Eddie thinks he can't find a wife and mother for Christopher because he's BROKEN, not because he's maybe just not that into women.

And yes, Buck coming out might give him a clue. Tommy being gay might show him something he hasn't really seen in terms of what a gay man looks like. But that Catholic guilt ridden man has a LONG way to go before he will confess to the fact that he wifed up his bisexual BFF because of non-platonic reasons.

We'll see how the story pans out. But anyone who thinks season 7 is going to end in a Buddie romance is likely incredibly wrong. I mean I haven't seen the episodes yet. So give me a week. But it seems unlikely. Eddie's character is in a very different place than Buck.

Doesn't mean these two don't live together in marital bliss rent free in my head though 😜

[metallica-jk]

Time for cover analysis of Glorious Rivals!

If you've seen my board, you may already know a few of my ideas for the book but if not then here is an essay about it! (mwahahaha)

The Mask- Everyone is talking about the colour of the mask but i think that's only to match the colour of the cover. BUT, if im wrong, i would suppose it means another Masquerade ball? Or flashbacks to it from a different perspective than it was originally written in? (what i mean by that is it was written in like Gigi's perspective and i swear Lyra's??)

The chain- I feel like thats representing Savannah and Rohan. The locket thing on it looks more like a clock though...but my eyes may deceiving me guys so dont trust my words!

The way it clashes with the gears, which in the previous books were on the exit door of the escape room Savannah and Rohan were in, shows that maybe something happens in that room again? Maybe a shmexy little intimate makeout scene? (*evil laughter noises*)

There's a hidden Omega sign that i feel might mean the end of the games? Or the end to something, at least.

The dart- In my opinion, this has either got to do with Brady for some reason, or another challenge in the games. Maybe its a passageway or like in a series of unfortunate events, its poisoned and someone dies? (i pray thats wrong but idk asoue came up when i saw a dart sorry guysss)

Sword connected to chain- Once again, In my opinion, this has got to be Grayson and Lyra. The sword has represented Grayson before, so i dont see why it shouldnt now. Now that i think about it, it could also be a game, or something to do with Gigi's kidnapping. But im sticking to Grayson and Lyra.

Also, to add to that, i feel like the sword is smaller since this book isnt really about THEIR relationship rather than Rohan's and Savannah's.

That leads me to THE DIAMOND- If yall have seen my board, I wrote in capitals "BYE BYE DIAMONDS?!"- what i mean by that is that last book, the cover had the clubs thing on it. And that team lost the game. (Ya'll lost the game too...iykyk) So i think that the diamonds might lose this game. But since Savvy is as much of a sore loser as Rohan, They're gonna make some *Drama*. Like our dear little Savvy said that she will reveal to the world what Avery did, Obviously also our sour british Rohan needs to win to prove himself, but since he loses, he wants revenge. And...BOOM! WE HAVE DRAMA!!! (*Jazz hands!*)

Finally, THE DOMINOES- Mmm maybe they just get pizza? who doesnt love a good dominoes? shit now im hungry...ANYWAY.

To be honest, i have no clue what this could be. Could this be like the dice? everyone gets two and they need to find what it means? Could it just be a gambling game that they do? something Rohan obviously specialises in. It could also stand for a person. But i doubt that.

Ya erm thats all of my little essay/ analysis

Ty if you read it till the end!

Tagging some of my lovely jubbly moots to torture them and make them read this (mwahahaha):

@zuzanna-jadw1ga @shattered-glass-roses @elizaa31 @allofmytoxicity @blocked-zombieartist

[muzzlemouths]

prompt: “please”

Moon adjacent // Wordcount: 4088

-

“Can we talk for a minute?”

It’s the end of your shift. The kids are all picked up, the toys put away, the daycare cleaned, and you’re headed for the door when Sun sets a hand on your shoulder.

You’ve already said your goodbyes, of course, and he hadn’t bothered to say anything up until now, so the sudden insistence to have a chat catches you off guard. As does his expression.

“Oh, uh… Sure,” you turn around to face him fully, “what’s up?

The way he’s looking at you, like he’s hesitant to speak up even now, leads you to believe it’s something serious. Coming from Sun, of all people, that’s more than enough to make you set your bag back on the front desk and give him your full attention.

Sun’s hand draws back and folds in with the other at his waist, his fingers intertwining and pinching together with anxious little taps, “It’s about Moon,” he mumbles, and his eyes fall to the bells on his feet and stay there, “something is wrong.”

Now, that kind of remark isn’t abnormal, especially concerning Moon. Management isn’t all too favorable with the animatronic and you get the feeling the techs down in Parts and Services aren’t the best of friends with him, either. You could put money on either of them making up complaints if only to get Moon off their backs. Coming from Sun, though?

That scares you.

“Oh?” You put up a face, doing your best not to show how much the suggestion gets to you. “What’s going on?”

“Are you aware of yesterday’s…” his rays shrink with a note of visible discomfort, “situation?”

Your eyebrows pinch together, “No, I hadn’t heard anything. Did something happen?”

He makes a face, and you imagine he might have rolled his eyes. “Of course,” he sighs, “I’m not sure why I was under the impression that management would fill you in.” True enough. Trying to get information out of them - even concerning your own job - is like pulling teeth. “Well,” his head tilts in the opposite direction now and his fingers stretch and flex, moving with restless little motions that tickle the bells at his wrists, “there was a little oopsie-daisy sometime after you clocked out.”

“Like…?”

“A break in,” he clarifies, clearing his throat. His eyes snap to front and center as his hands fly to reassuring you, “Nothing was actually stolen, and I’m told the employee who was assaulted is promised to make a full recovery–”

“Whoa, wait,” your hands raise to stop him, “back up. Somebody was assaulted?”

“Stabbed!” He says, going stiff in place when he realizes that doesn’t make the situation any better, “O-Only a little,” his hands wring together, fidgeting, the ring of his bells constant now, “and like I said, they’re already patched up and looking swell. The assailant, on the other hand–”

“What about Moon?”

Sun twitches, looking somewhat irked about being cut off twice in a row now, “I’m getting to that,” he barks, “if you would kindly let me finish.”

“Sorry, sorry,” you reluctantly back down, “please, continue.”

A deep sigh escapes him. “Moon discovered them soon after the actual incident took place. I’d go as far as saying he’s the whole reason your coworker made it out alive, seeing as they were able to escape before any more damage was done. But…” His voice peters off into silence.

“But…?”

He hesitates, shifting his weight from foot to foot. His hands hold each other for support, then flex. Curl, then flex. Again, and again, and again, until your expectant look pries his mouth open again. “He took a couple bad hits. Nothing they couldn’t fix, of course, and he’s right as rain as far as that’s concerned.”

“And the robber?” You ask, trying not to sound too impatient.

Sun shrugs, his eyes lowering back down to his shoes. “Moon took care of them,” he mumbles, “of course.”

“Of course,” you reply with a nod, “that’s his job, after all.” Reaching for Sun’s arm, you give it a comforting squeeze and hold your breath, only continuing when his gaze lifts from the floor, “So, what’s the problem?”

His shoulders dip as if he’s grieving, and all at once the fidgeting stops. “I don’t–” he takes in a mock breath and holds it, staring you down, then deflates with a defeated sign, “I don’t know!” He finally wails, “Something is wrong, I’m sure of it. I just can’t tell you what it is exactly.”

“Sun,” you reach for him again, but for once Sun pulls away - an action that makes you tense in place, “I’m sure he’s just tired after last night. Let him have his space and–”

“But that’s just it!” His voice is shrill as he interrupts you, “I’ve given him plenty of space, I don’t have a choice either way about it. He’s gone quiet,” and then, before you can argue, “headspace is quiet. He won’t talk to me. I–I haven’t heard his voice since last night.”

“Oh,” is all you manage at first. That changes things. “Well…what do you want me to do about it?”

“Come back tonight,” he asks - though it comes out more as a plea, “the lights go out in half an hour. You can stick around so you don’t get locked out, maybe get a snack, o-or talk with one of the Glamrocks, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.” He looks nervously your way, the trademark smile momentarily crushed under the weight of his anxiety, “I know I’m asking for a lot,” he says, “but I just think…” and it returns, if only by the upturned edges, “if he won’t talk to me, maybe he’ll talk to you.”

Your lips press into a thin line as you think it over. If management found out you were hanging around after your shift it could come back to bite you, but on the other hand, if you didn’t do this, Sun may never trust you again. Saying nothing about your own concern for Moon.

He looks less like a child pleading for sweets, instead frowning in a way that is desperate, and deceptively human. Taking your hands in his own and squeezing them tight, his eyes searching yours for any semblance of pity, he whispers, “…Please.”

That alone is enough to convince you.

“Alright,” you relent after a breath, “I’ll see what I can do.”

- - -

It’s easy enough to slip past management. You let Freddy in on the situation and, though he’s reluctant (evidently knowing something you don’t) he eventually agrees to host you as stowaway in his room until closing hours. After that, it’s just a matter of busying yourself with brainless little tasks until you’re sure enough time has passed for Moon to be fully out and about.

Only, he isn’t. Checking your fazwatch at the half-hour mark reveals him to be missing in action, an odd occurrence for the normally punctual Moon who should have already been well on his way through the security patrols by now. You decide to cut him some slack, figuring that he was, again, only tired from yesterday’s situation.

That being said, he’s no where to be found at the end of the hour, either, and by then you’ve leaped past concern into full-blown panic. He’s not in the atrium, or the laundry room, or the many, many halls. You know he wouldn’t be caught dead in Parts and Services and don’t even bother checking. A quick glance in the Daycare - dark as normal - yields no better results.

Your search leaves only one place in mind.

It takes you no time at all to push your way back through the Daycare doors. Your flashlight cuts through the dark expanse without the usual relief of a nearby crimson glow or even the ring of a quiet bell. There is nothing to prove your theory correct and yet you proceed regardless, plenty stubborn enough to go off a hunch and a hunch alone.

Admittedly, his absence fills your gut with a worsened sense of dread. Normally he is all too eager to sneak up behind you and play boogeyman. How strange - and troubling, at that – to be left to your own devices. You shake the feeling from your shoulders and continue on.

Nearing the ballpit, a noise crosses your ears. Not a bell, or a snicker, or the usual weight of metal headed your way, but instead, a voice.

A song, to be specific.

So low that you strain to hear it, you pick up on the humming of a familiar lullaby, and you’re able to trace it back to the exact location you had suspected; the bedroom.

“Moon?” You call out to him, your voice carrying strangely in the still room. Silence answers you. Even the humming cuts short, every sound from above quickly falling into nothing at all. Your eyebrows pinch together. “I know you’re up there!” You try again, “will you come down for a minute? I want to talk.”

A minute passes, then two. Nothing occurs. No movement, no sound, and certainly no sign of him doing as asked. Your impatience gets the better of you.

Turning on your heel, you dully note the feeling of eyes on your back as you head out of the main Daycare area and into the theater, instead. It takes you less than a minute to locate the Captain Foxy’s Pirate Adventure poster, and once there you waste little time pushing through the secret entry behind it and down the hall, through the blue door.

Inside, the first thing you see is the state of the room. Not it’s usual haphazard mess but worse, somehow; toys aimlessly strewn, several torn apart and severed at the limbs, broken shards of glass from an unknown source, and most distressing of all, a collection of children’s drawing that had evidently been ripped from their home on the wall now lay shredded across the floor.

Moon, himself, sits with his back to you. He’s fiddling with something in his lap that you can’t make out from this distance, perfectly silent, and he looks fit to ignore you entirely. Out of spite, apparently. You know he heard you enter. You saw him double-down on the slouch clear as day.

There’s something else, too. Something different about him that you can’t quite place in the dark.

Warily, you step over each outcasted item as best you can, all the while squinting through the pitch, not daring to bring your flashlight anywhere in his direction. Only when you’re standing just behind where he sits do you properly make yourself known, clearing your throat.

“Moon?” Your voice remains soft, like you might scare him away, “Why didn’t you answer me when I called earlier?”

His motions still, shoulders going tight like a wind-up doll, “Why are you here?” He answers your question with one of his own - then, as though it’s only an afterthought, “Didn’t hear you.”

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you round him to face his front. “You and I both know that’s bullshit,” you crouch down to his level, “and as a matter of fact, I’m only here because you didn’t bother answering me–”

Directly in front of him, now, you can finally see the shine against his faceplate. The lack of a hat. Evidently, it’s what he’s busying his hands with. He pulls at the fabric with a dull and apathetic weight, bringing the end to a rise before allowing the bell to fall into his lap.

He waits a beat, as though allowing you the chance to finish your thought. When it appears you have nothing left to say, however, his gaze finally lifts to meet you. “Did Sun put you up to this?” He asks.

It takes everything in you not to habitually respond with a lie. Moon knows when you’re lying. You don’t know how, whether it’s programmed or just something he’s picked up on over the years, but he can always tell. Besides, you’re sure the answer is obvious either way.

“Yeah,” you admit with a nod, frowning when Moon has the gall to scoff, “he’s worried, you know.”

“He worries too much,” Moon replies.

You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, “Well, what about me?”

“What about you?”

“What if I’m worried about you, too?”

Again, he returns nothing but silence. It’s hard to tell what goes on in that big, flat head of his, and you’d give an arm and a leg to find out, but for now you’re stuck attempting to translate the entirely blank expression on his face.

Today there’s more than that to go off of, if you listen close. A rumble like distant thunder in his throat, barely there, it brings every word into a foreign pitch. He leaves you little time to overthink it before deciding on an answer.

“You shouldn’t,” is what he comes up with.

This time, you do roll your eyes. “Yeah, well, I have a bad habit of caring about my friends. Doubt that’ll be wrung out of me anytime soon, so uh, get used to it.”

“We aren’t friends.”

Oh. That stings more than it should. It’s a bitter sort of feeling, acid pooling in your stomach and crawling up the sides, and for a moment you think it might even drive you into full-blown nausea, but you swallow it down. Stomp out what remains.

“I–”

“Not like that,” he interrupts, suddenly eager to correct himself, “I didn’t mean–” the hat goes taut between his fists, straining at the seams until he forces himself to relax, “I mean that we shouldn’t be friends.”

“Oh,” is all you manage.. It’s a poor excuse for a reply, and you know it, but there’s very few places for this conversation to go that won’t end in further heartbreak. “Why…Why not?”

You finally settle on the floor completely, crossed at the legs, prepared to continue anyway.

He won’t look at you. Instead, his eyes drift back to the hat in his hands. “It’s dangerous,” he mumbles, “I–” and you see him tense, again, the bell moving with a jittery ring, shaking in his hand. “I’m dangerous.”

It falls from his palm, then goes silent. The entire room, in fact, lapses into a jarring silence. If only for a minute.

“You’re not–”

“I am,” he corrects you before the words are even fully between your teeth, “last night–”

“Last night was a fluke,” you try to shrug, “you were only doing your job.”

“My job?” He’s shaking, and if you only had better light you might see the anger in his coiled joints, “My job is to patrol, to intervene.”

“And you did that–” you try to reason with him, “–had you not stepped in, my coworker might not have made it out of there. You did the right thing, Moon. The assailant–”

“I killed him.”

It shuts you up. Maybe not for good, but for the time being, it’s blunt enough to make you pause. His methods of security are no mystery to you, of course. It’s not a secret and never has been, but not once has he ever openly stated it. Certainly not with such vehement conviction, at that.

“I…” you hesitate, letting your eyes fall into your lap, “I know. But that changes nothing, Moon. You were put in a bad situation. Had the circumstances been different–”

“I’d have killed him anyway,” Moon speaks with an ease that sends chills down your spine. Like he’s discussing the weather, nothing more. Like it’s insured. A fate that’s already sealed. “The situation doesn’t matter,” he continues, “it never matters. There’s this– this feeling –and once it starts, it doesn’t stop. Not until I’m satisfied.”

The silence draws on for ages, his words filling the space between you and interrupted only by the occasional ring of the bell as he picks it up, lets it fall, picks it up, lets it fall, picks it up–

“I don’t care,” you swallow hard, forcing your chin up to look at him with a steeled resolve, “I know you, and I’m not scared of you, no matter how much you want me to be.”

“You’re stupid,” comes his warbled growl, “what if it’s not a robber next time. What if it’s you.”

“It won’t be.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I–” Your hand lifts - so fast that he flinches - and it finds his chest. His heart. “Because I trust you, Moon. You won’t hurt me.”

The sensation of him trembling beneath your hand doesn’t go unnoticed. You aren’t sure whether it’s out of anger, or relief, or something else entirely. Not until he finds his voice, once more, and you finally place the odd sound in his throat.

“Please…”

It’s a shudder. A subtle heave of breath containing too much at once, an emotion and action so perfectly human and veiled behind the guttural robotics of his voice box that you nearly missed it.

The sound of someone holding back tears.

Slow and careful, your hand falls to rest on top of his own and you give it a gentle squeeze. “Maybe that makes me stupid,” your smile is firm, sincere, “but you can’t convince me of otherwise, and you never will, no matter how many times I need to reassure you. I’m not changing my mind any time soon.”

He’s quiet above all else. So quiet, in fact, not even the ring of his bell, that you worry you might have overwhelmed him. Or, worse still, that he continues to doubt you. That your convictions aren’t honest. If he can’t trust you, how can he possibly expect - or accept - that you trust him?

But the silence is broken with a string of laughter, faint and leaving as quick as it came. His throat clears some of its blues. “You’re going to get yourself hurt,” he sighs, something like gratitude in every word, “but it– it’s your funeral. I won’t stop you from trying.”

Your smile turns bright. “Good, because I’m going to keep trying, again, and again, and again, until you get the picture.” A laugh escapes your own throat, light with relief, “I won’t stop until you know how much I mean it.”

Finally, finally, the barest upturn of a smile. “I don’t doubt it,” says Moon, “you’re annoying like that.”

A roll of your eyes, lighthearted, and you practically bounce to your feet, “Come on, loser. Get that hat of yours back on so we can start your patrols, already. I’ll even join you.”

Only a little, his smile dims. The hat is tucked further into his palms. “I can’t,” he tells you, “I mean– I’d rather not.”

Your own smile follows, crumbling instantly. Something is still wrong. “Why not?” Your eyes catch on to his tension, following it down to his hands, “Is something up with your hat?”

The way he freezes instantly answers the question for you. A good thing, too, because he doesn’t make any move to reply, only tucking the fabric away even deeper out of sight, bundling it into his hands.

“Moon…” you reach – again, your hand finding his own – only here it stays, your thumb gently swiping over his wrist, then his fingers, and then it curls beneath so he’s forced to loosen his grip. “Let me see,” you plead with him, only a whisper, “…please?”

He relents.

It’s a reluctant defeat, one he tries to hide by immediately shoving his hands into his pockets once the hat is securely in yours.

There’s nothing immediately wrong with it. You turn the fabric over in your palms and listen to the bell ring, wondering what has him so bent out of shape as to not even bother putting it on. Everything appears normal - that is, from what little you can see in the dim crimson light his eyes provide.

Then you feel it. A broken seam, a gap of fabric that two of your fingers slip beneath easily. You lift it from the side to get a better look and confirm your suspicions.

A hole. It tears through his hat two inches wide and clear into the other side.

“How–”

“Got caught up in the knife fight,” he shrugs, acting as though it’s less world-ending than the crack in his voice would have you believe. A hole in his hat, his favorite hat, his only hat, and blood, red and bright, staining the edges of it.

You’re surprised, more than anything else, that he’s holding himself together as well as he is.

“Sun said they fixed you up after the fight,” you begin, “they didn’t patch it…?”

“Why bother?” Another shrug, this one notably heavier, “I don’t interact with the kids anymore.” He gives you a shaky, wry smile, “No reason to keep up appearances, right?”

Immediately, you find yourself shaking your head. No, no, you wouldn’t let this one go. “I’ll fix it, then,” you promise, “help me down to the Daycare. I’ll fix it right now.”

He looks taken aback. You aren’t sure why. For all the annoyance he claims you bring him, surely, he should have seen this coming. Maybe he does, because in the next moment he’s shaking his head with another dry laugh. “It’s too big of a tear, starlight,” he tells you, “jagged at the edges. The knife tore some pieces out.” He outstretches his hand, fingers gesturing for you to give it back. You don’t.

“I’ll find a way,” you tell him. Then, making yourself more firm this time, “Take me down to the Daycare. I am going to fix it.”

Again, he pauses, fixing you with a flat expression that you don’t bother trying to figure out. Finally, he answers you with a sigh. His hand falls back to his side. Then, with one final shrug, “Fine, I guess you’re welcome to try.”

The trip down from the balcony is the fastest of your life. You don’t fight his hand around your waist, or squirm away when he gives you that stupid, cheeky grin as you wait for the wire to be called so he can literally sweep you off your feet. The second they touch ground, again, you’re pushing out of his hold and making your way towards the front desk. You’re on a mission.

“Find me the sewing kit,” you order with a wave of your hand, “I have an idea.”

You’re quick to gather everything you need. A pair of scissors and a water bottle from the desk, and your backpack from beneath it. The bottle is uncapped and a small amount of its contents carefully poured over a section of your backpack. Then, dividing the scissors to use one blade as a knife, you ease away the adhesive with an icky ssshhhmmmmack.

Moon catches up with you a second later and hands over the kit. “What are you doing?”

“Shh.”

You bring the retrieved section over his hat, ensuring, first, that it will properly fit. Then you get to work; thread the needle, knot the end, and begin stitching away. As suspected, there’s still a portion of it left where fabric was lost in the scuttle.

Next, you bring in phase two. An iron-on patch – black and purple with a planet surrounded by stars – which was previously housed on your backpack next to a few others. Now it would find a home here.

“That’s–”

“Shh,” you hush him, your hand already hard at work. Thread, knot, stitch. The patch covers it perfectly.

At long last, you hold the completed work up for him to see. “What do you think?” You ask with a hopeful grin, “You said management didn’t care about keeping up appearances, so they should have no problems with some added flair, right?”

A beat of silence where he says nothing, only takes it into his hands, smoothing a thumb over the new texture with widened eyes.

Finally, he sighs. “It’s perfect,” he whispers, “I think–” and he looks up with that same warbling tone as before, “I think it’s perfect, starlight.”

You try not to look too proud of yourself. It’s a small victory, you think, but one you’re happy with all the same. Sure, you’re going to miss the patch, but you think it suits him better.

And anyway, you can see it as often as you want, can’t you?

“Now come on,” you yawn, jab an elbow against his side, and feel yourself relax when he returns your smile, “we’ve got patrols to do.”

[scarabsinthestardust]

Better in the Morning // Ch. 3

MASTERLIST

At last, this is why I chose the title that I did. This chapter is a little rough, a little sad. Please forgive me for the horrible things I'll be putting poor Jake through.

word count: 2500

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Language (as always), drinking/alcoholism, severe bouts of depression, mentions of suicide and self-harm, Kya might have some anxiety

“I can hear you worryin’ from across the store, Kya.”

I tried to still my shaking knee, a nervous tick, and hit the button to light up my phone. Still nothing. “What if something’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. Do you think there’s something wrong?”

“This isn’t like him, Richie. He’s never done this. In the six months we’ve been together, he’s never just ghosted me. Even if we argue, he always texts or calls.”

“But you didn’t get into a fight or anything?”

“No. At least, not that I’m aware of.” I opened my text thread from Jake, the last message was the usual ‘goodnight’ text at around ten o’ clock last night. We were supposed to get breakfast this morning, but he never showed, and he wasn’t answering his phone. It was now almost 7 PM and I hadn’t heard a word from him. I debated reaching out to Josh, but it felt so intrusive. And I especially didn’t want Josh to think I was overreacting. Maybe they had just gotten super busy; they were supposed to do some work at the studio after all. “I think I’m just going to go to his house. Unless you think that’s too much. Do you think that’s too much?”

“I think you’re worrying too much, kid. If your gut is telling you to go over there, just go. I know you ain’t gonna be able to relax until you talk to him.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. I’ll go after-“

He cut me off. “Just go, now. I can handle closing up shop. You’ll, uh, let me know everything’s okay?”

“Of course. Thank you.” I gave him a quick hug before heading out to my car.

I couldn’t turn my brain off. For the whole drive, I imagined all the worst-case scenarios, which of course only caused my anxiety to spike. To push it down, I focused on my mental to-do list. Obviously, I couldn’t decide what to do with Jake without knowing what was going on. I worried he wasn’t even at home, and decided if that was the case, and if I still couldn’t reach him, I’d call Josh. I just needed some assurance that he was okay.

I let out a sigh of relief when I arrived at his house and his car was in the driveway. As was Josh’s. But as my mind started racing again, I tried to convince myself to remain calm. “Okay, deep breath,” I said to myself. “Don’t go in there mad. I’m sure he’s got a perfectly good reason for ignoring you all day.”

Josh must have seen me pull up. He exited the front door and was walking in my direction. I got out of my car to greet him, but it didn’t soothe my nerves that he didn’t look pleased to see me.

“What are you doing here?”

Through gritted teeth I answered, “I’m trying to find out why my boyfriend stood me up and has been ghosting me all day.”

“He’s not feeling well.”

I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes at him. “Bullshit. There’s something you’re not telling me. So, spill, or I’m gonna march my ass in there and he can tell me himself.”

“He… doesn’t want company right now. I’ll tell him to call you later.”

I noticed he was fidgeting a lot, and he seemed… worried. “Josh, please tell me what the fuck is going on. I’m worried about him. Is he pissed off at me or something? Does he have another girl in there? Just tell me. I’m not leaving until I get an answer.”

He averted his eyes to the ground and lowered his voice, so it was barely audible. “Do you love him?”

I scoffed, kicking around a small rock on the ground. “Stupid question,” I mumbled. Jake and I hadn’t actually said it to each other. Not officially, anyways, outside of drunken or wild sex. But we showed it to each other in other ways. I knew what was in my heart, but this had me second guessing what was in his. I could have just pushed past him and went inside, to face whatever awaited me there, but I was curious as to why he was asking me this. “Yeah, I do. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

Josh let out a sad sigh. “I want to trust you; I just don’t want to see him get hurt again. His ex was a really shitty person, and she wasn’t good to him.”

“I’m not his ex,” I spat.

“I know. I’m sorry.” I let him have a few moments of silence while he gathered his thoughts. “Jake has these, I don’t know, depressive episodes. It’s something he’s dealt with since we were teenagers, probably every few months or so. He hasn’t had a bad one since you guys got together, though.”

I felt bile rise in the back of my throat. “Episodes?”

“Yeah, he just gets really… sad. Comes out of nowhere usually. Then he spirals, tends to freeze everyone out. Won’t eat, won’t sleep. I’m lucky if I even get a text, you know?”

I voiced the first question that came to mind, the one that scared me the most. “Is he… suicidal?” I held my breath for an answer.

“No. Never. He’s never hurt himself or anything, other than not eating. And he’ll drink until he passes out.”

“How long does it usually last?”

He shrugged. “I’ve seen it go anywhere from a few hours to a few weeks.” I ran a hand through my hair and turned from him, searching for the words that I couldn’t find in the sky. I was so heartbroken for Jake, and scared. I just wanted to go to him.

“Listen, I know it’s a lot to deal with. If you can’t handle it, then walk away now. Better to break his heart sooner rather than later,” he grumbled.

I spun and stared at him incredulously. “What? What are you…” I shook my head. “I’m not leaving him. I’m not going to walk away from him. Why the fuck would you even think that?”

He shrugged again and hid his hands in his pockets. I was seeing red, and Josh was getting on my last nerve. It felt like he was trying to scare me off. Surely, he was just being protective of his twin, I knew that. But I didn’t need him sticking his nose into my relationship. I huffed and marched past him towards the front door.

“Where are you going?” The panic was evident in his voice.

“Where do you think? I’m going to see my boyfriend.  If he doesn’t want me here, he can tell me himself.” I ignored him as he called out to me, in a half ass attempt to stop me. I don’t think he really wanted me to, though.

The house was dark except for a small lamp in the living room. When I didn’t see Jake, I headed upstairs. I heard Josh come in the front door behind me, but he didn’t follow.

I found Jake in his bedroom, sitting on the floor next to the bed with an almost empty bottle of whiskey next to him. All he had on was a pair of gray sweatpants and his signature Atocha coin around his neck. He had his arms rested on his knees and his head bowed in between them, his disheveled hair hiding his face. If he heard me come in, he didn’t acknowledge me. I moved slowly, not wanting to spook him, and knelt on the carpet in front of him. I carefully moved the whiskey bottle out of his immediate reach before calling out to him.

“Jake?”

His head shot up at the sound of my voice. His eyes were bloodshot. Even in the darkened room I could see how rough, how defeated he looked. I wondered how long he had been crying. He started shaking his head in what was probably panic. “No, Kya, you shouldn’t be here. You- you shouldn’t see this. Fuck, I didn’t want you to see this.”

“It’s a little too late for that, isn’t it?” He was glancing around the room, looking anywhere except at me, but I gently placed my hand on his cheek, lifting his face and not really giving him much of a choice in the matter. “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want me here and I’ll leave. But I’m hoping you won’t.”

The silence seemed to drag on forever as I struggled to read his expression. It was an all too familiar expression, one I’d unfortunately witnessed on someone else’s face before. I shook that memory away, though, focusing on the man in front of me. He was terrified, maybe of my reaction, maybe of what was in his own head. I couldn’t be sure. But he didn’t tell me to leave and that was a step in the right direction. I felt his hands grip my arms, as if pleading for me to stay. He needed me to, and I would do whatever he needed me to at this point.

When he finally caved, leaning forward to rest his head on my shoulder, I was perfectly content to hold him like that, to let him cry. “It’s okay, baby. Let it out. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.” I understood depression like this well enough to know that sometimes, there was no rhyme or reason behind it. There didn’t have to be any particular trigger for it; sometimes it just decided you were long overdue for a visit when it reared its ugly head and tried its damnedest to take you down with it.

He kept apologizing to me for anything he could- for all the things that were not his fault. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m like this, why I’m so fucked up. I can’t get it out of my head.”

“I think we’re both a little fucked up, in some way or another. Maybe that’s why we work so well together. And it doesn’t mean I’m not going to help you through it.”

“You can’t fix me.”

I kissed the top of his head. “Can’t fix what’s not broken, silly. I know I can’t make it go away, but maybe I can at least help smooth out the ride, if you’ll let me.”

“You don’t have to do this. I don’t deserve it.”

I huffed. “You know that’s not true, Jake. You only think that because your head’s clouded right now, ‘cause you’re having trouble seeing through the fog. But it’ll pass. And I’m not doing this because I feel like I have to. I’m here because I want to help, I want to be here for you. All of this, what you’re dealing with… I get it. And it doesn’t make me love you any less.”

I think I heard what sounded like a hushed sob, but I couldn’t be sure. After a few more moments of silence, I somehow convinced him to move from the floor to the bed.

“Please stay.”

“I already told you I’m not going anywhere.” I removed my shoes and pulled my phone out of my pocket. I shot a quick text to Josh letting him know I was staying, and another to Richie just so he wouldn’t worry, before laying it on the bedside table and crawling under the blankets with Jake. I wrapped an arm tightly around his waist and heard his breath hitch, but he didn’t pull away. He slowly inched closer until there was no space between us, his face nuzzled up against my shoulder. I could still feel the remnants of tears that were falling, dampening my skin. I held him like that for the rest of the night, constantly whispering reassurances that I was here with him, until his breath finally evened out and he fell into sleep.

~

I squinted my eyes against the sunlight that was creeping through the windows. I stretched and breathed deep, inhaling the scent that was so obviously Jake. Waking up in his bed was nothing new; it was becoming the new normal for me. I reached over to find the other side of the bed empty. That alone also wasn’t unusual; he typically was an early riser and would have coffee and breakfast in the works by the time I regained consciousness. But when memories of the night before finally materialized in my brain, the worry returned, and I shot up in bed.

I threw my hair up in a (very) messy bun and padded downstairs. Jake stood in the kitchen talking to Josh, who was perched on the countertop. Jake looked a million times better, if only a little sleep deprived. Their conversation quieted and they both greeted me good morning. Josh was still eyeing me like he was weary of my existence and Jake smiled nervously at me.

“Do you want some coffee?”

“Mm, yes please.” He made me a cup, just the way he knew I liked it (entirely too sweet for his taste). I grazed my hand over his. “How are you feeling?”

“Uh, better. Tired.” He crinkled his nose up and made eye contact with Josh, no doubt utilizing that eerie twin telepathy.

Josh hopped off the counter and glanced back at his twin. “Okay, well, I’m gonna head out. Get some rest. Call me if you need anything.” Jake nodded and Josh gave me one more questioning glance before making his departure. I put my coffee down and took Josh’s spot, hopping to sit on the counter.

“I feel like my countertop has seen a lot of ass this morning.”

“I don’t recall you complaining about it when you-“

“Hush.” He closed the distance between us, planting himself between my legs and giving me a soft kiss. Sighing as he pulled away, his hands rubbed the skin of my thighs. He was still worried. “I’m sorry again, about last night. I… I take meds for it, but it still happens. I can’t make it go away.”

I grabbed his hands, anchoring him to me. “You don’t have anything to apologize for. You didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t ever want you to feel like you have to shut me out, I just wish there was more I could do to help you through it.”

He leaned forward so our foreheads were touching. “I love you, Kya,” he whispered. “You’re too good to me, but I’m just glad to have you here with me. Thank you. Thank you for being here, for being you. And being too stubborn to let Josh scare you off.”

I snorted a chuckle. “I love you, too. And it would take a lot more than Josh to scare me off.” I closed my eyes, reveling in the proximity of him, breathing in his scent, feeling his touch. I just hoped it would be enough to keep him with me. I can’t lose him, too.

[final-fantasy-imagines]

Tseng and "sleepless", pretty please ☺️

Here you go, dear anon! <3 Hope you enjoy.

Tseng + “sleepless”

The clock at the bedside table shows that it’s nearly three in the morning, and still, Tseng cannot sleep, although he’s exhausted and every muscle in his body screams for rest. Today has been rough, but that’s nothing unusual for him, so that’s definitely not what’s keeping him awake. It’s quiet outside, and the curtains don’t let much light through – which means that can’t be the reason, either. 

With a sigh, he rolls over because he’s tired of staring at that damn alarm clock, but now, he’s looking at the fluffed up and untouched pillow on the other side of the bed. You’re spending the night at your friend’s place to support them after a nasty breakup, so there’s no one sleeping next to him tonight.

Ah, perhaps that is what’s wrong, he thinks as the realization hits him. He misses you. He misses the sound of your quiet, steady breathing and the way you always snuggle up to him, right before you fall asleep, and how you sometimes mumble his name in your sleep, and the comforting scent of your perfume that always lingers in the air, a barely noticeable proof that you’re there, right by his side. Yes, now that he thinks about it, Tseng is pretty sure that he can’t sleep because he misses your presence. 

It’s funny, though. Regardless of how much you mean to him, Tseng has never seen himself as someone who struggles to fall asleep without their loved one by their side. In fact, he has always been convinced that he’s good at being alone (too good, even, but he brushes that thought off before it can linger), and missing you shouldn’t stop him from getting a few hours of sleep. Right? 

The quiet buzzing of his phone snaps him out of his mind. Absent-mindedly, he reaches for the device, wondering why he’s getting new orders this late but when he reads your name on the display, a smile flashes over his face. “I know it’s late and you’re probably already asleep, but it’s so weird to sleep alone,” the text says, followed by another one that adds, “I really miss you.”

For a couple of seconds, Tseng thinks about calling you. But if your friend’s already asleep, he doesn’t want to wake them, just because he suddenly feels the childish need to hear your voice. He really needs to stop acting like a lovesick puppy, or else he might get too addicted to the way you make him feel. (But then again, it’s probably already too late for that. The fact that he’s not sound asleep right now tells him that much.)

In the end, he decides to send a text back. Because why not? There’s no one here to stop him, and he lovesyou, so why act like he doesn’t? 

“I miss you, too.”

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it please consider reblogging, liking and/or leaving some feedback. I'd really appreciate the support. <3

Taglist: @sixdaysofsilverashes @thevoidwriting @theimaginaryheir @asilverraven

[bokukawas]

Under The Mistletoe

pairing; Zenin Naoya x Reader

a/n; didn’t proofread, also i have no clue what this is

word count; 900ish  words

It was a weird atmosphere. You were wondering who thought it would be a good idea to put the servants together with the rest of the clan for a Christmas party. It was the Zen’in clan after all, this was bound to end in a disaster.

The feel was far from happy, cheery or festive. Christmas music was silently playing in the background, but no one seemed to pay any attention to it. Of course not, the Zen’ins were all too preoccupied with throwing thinly veiled aggressive gazes at the servants who dared mingle with them. Unsurprisingly a lot of those have claimed to be sick on this day. You were sure they were having a clandestine Christmas party in their quarters for themselves. It was such a shame, because the room itself looked nice. Whoever put up all the decorations clearly put all their heart into it. A colourful decorated Christmas tree was standing proudly in a corner; there were pine garlands on every surface, fairy lights and candles. It even smelt faintly of cookies.

Then again, in the end it all came down to whom you are celebrating Christmas with, and the Zen’ins clearly were not a fun people. Naobito had obviously had too much to drink already, gawking at every female that came to close to him, family or not. Megumi was moping in a corner, phone in hand, typing away on it with a scowl on his face. The twins next to him, looking as annoyed as can be. The rest of the family was all over the room with various drinks in hand. No one was enjoying this it seems and no one wanted to get through this evening sober. And neither did you, so you raised your mug of mulled wine to your lips. Nothing got you into a festive spirit quicker, than alcohol on an empty stomach.

“I can’t believe we are here. The others are probably having fun in their quarters. Remind me, why we decided to not fake sick?” one of your colleagues asks you.

“No idea.” You lie immediately. There was a very good reason for you to be here. Or a very handsome one at least. To your disappointment, he was not here yet. “I feel ridiculous in this.”

You gesture down at your dress. Like all the others, you have put in some effort to look pretty for this special occasion. Sadly, the atmosphere and the glances you were getting were making it very clear, that to the Zen’ins you would always be a servant, no matter what you are wearing. Sighing you let your eyes roam over your friends dress. “You look stunning… if only there was someone here to appreciate it. Besides Naobito.” you grimace and then wink at your friend.

The evening goes on and still the person you wanted to see the most wasn’t showing up. It wasn’t surprising, really, Naoya hated these kind of gatherings. You know that. He hates most things and persons, so it only makes sense that he skipped the evening as well.

“I don’t think he will come.” Your friend shrugs and points to the clock. “We might as well take our leave. Chances are he came from a mission and went straight to his rooms.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.” The air suddenly felt too sticky, the room too small. You  didn’t think someone noticed you ogling Naoya, obviously you were wrong. You knew it was stupid. He was the worst of them all. But he was also handsome. And in fact, he never treated you unfairly when your services were required in his rooms. Unlike Jinichi or Naobito, who both have already touched you inadequately. You can feel your friends eyes on you, not buying anything you just said.

“Maybe you’re right, we should leave…” you say as you turn around and immediately stumble back as you run into something. Or someone. You want to apologize, but you are so dumbfounded at standing in front of the person who you’ve secretly wished to see all evening, that all you can do is stare. Naoya stands in front of you, his hand rubbing the place on his chest you collided with, his cool eyes focussed on your face.

“I’m.. I’m sorry.” You finally manage after the initial shock lessens. “I didn’t…”

Your sentence is interrupted by a shocked gleeful gasp from your friend next to you.

“The mistletoe. You’re standing under the mistletoe!” she cries with a shit-eating grin on her face. As you lift your eyes, you see that she is right. Someone indeed did hang a mistletoe, and you and Naoya were indeed standing right beneath it. You gulp, lifting your eyes up to look at him again when you feel his warm hand on your face. Gentle. He’s so gentle as he curls his fingers around your face and lifts your chin up, leaning down to you, just before his lips press against yours in the softest of touches. It should only be a quick peck. Just a simple quick kiss because tradition requires it if you stand beneath the mistletoe. But Naoya doesn’t make it quick. It is unhurried and his lips move against yours, softly but firmly before he breaks away.

“You look very pretty tonight.” He says, brushing his finger over you cheek again, before turning around and joining the rest of his family, leaving you staring after him dumbfounded and with a bunch of butterflies in your stomach.

[prawns-are-cannibals]

Taskmaster Series 17

This was another series I wasn't necessarily a fan of any of the contestants, and I'd only heard of John and Steve (who I was mildly surprised they managed to get for some reason). That being said, they were such a delightful bunch I'm a fan of them now. I had an irrational idea that Joanne would annoy me for some reason, but my god she was joyous. The main joy for me this series however was that they had not one, but two 'useless' people on it. I mean, who doesn't adore Nick and Sophie. Especially as Nick decided it would be a good idea to dress up as Dracula (which will always be my favourite task outfit).

Top three tasks

Create a new tradition to celebrate Assistant's Day.

Honestly, the main reason I love this task is because of Nicks song. It was just so sweet, and probably the nicest anyone has been to Alex in 17 series of the show. I knew he was musical, but he has such a nice voice. Joanne lugging Alex behind her in the buggy whilst he looks mildly awkward mixed with er demanding he make her some lunch was to notch.

Hoopla Gary

Steve saying 'is this Gary?' Whilst pointing at the scare crow was expected somehow. The fact he seemed to get it with one of his first throws was on point for him. Sophie seemed so amazed about a gorilla being on a boat, it was quite sweet. Leaving her till last ("you're going to have to wait, you know what you've done"). The fact that her first hoop went onto a branch, and then starting to hop into the river and quickly failing really endeared me to her. And the flailing shouting 'get me out' was *chefs kiss*. Nick flinging and hoping for the best, which is honestly how I would end up trying to do this task, although i may not have thought to pull him back shamefully. The fact that after a couple of steps into the river, he was suddenly plunged to his waist is brilliant (#Shortpersonproblems). John and Joanne seemed so calm and precise with theirs, which is expected of John maybe.

Find the real task

I think it was the simplicity of this task is why I liked it so much. Sophie not seeing any of the 100 tasks. Her little run to the shed was adorable. I'm so glad she managed to find it so quickly. Joanne's increasing pile of all the tasks before she found the real one was quite hilarious. Honestly it must have been so infuriating to realise what was happening. Was no surprise that she didn't realise the tasks were in the shape of an arrow until the studio. Nick falling out of the door was so funny. Thinking that the letters might correspond with the number of the task down the arrow was logical but in the wrong way. His little "was that good?" Was so cute. Why did I find it mildly infuriating that John and Steve found the arrow straight away? But honestly, how did Nick not clock on that he hadn't pegged that task on??

Contestants

Nick

Sophie

Joanne

Steve

John

Series 16