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nothasideblog · 2 months ago

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Problems of All Sizes

Cal comes down with a cold and tries to power through. ---

He hates to say it, but shoveling would be much easier without Kata's “help.” Every fifteen minutes or so, she shouts, “Wait!” and scrambles down to pluck out a bug or root, spilling dirt into the bottom of the hole.

She’s just trying to be helpful, he knows, and she is, in the long run. The likelihood of finding pyrite is pretty high on Koboh, and the plants she sees tend to be useful.

But Cal isn’t thinking about the long run. He’s thinking about the growing crick in his neck and ache in his–...he pauses thoughtfully and rolls out his wrists.

Everywhere, he decides. He aches everywhere. He wants to be done with this.

There was a problem with Pyloon’s electrical system. Cal woke up to the lights sporadically flickering and Greez swearing up and down. Cal quickly discovered that tinkering with the breaker box would not fix the problem. Hence, digging in the sand for wires.

“Cal? Why’s your lightsaber blue?”

He also might want to be done with this because Kata has been asking a lot of questions lately.

Usually, he can come up with something semi-intelligent to say. But, right now, he struggles to find any answer that satisfies her. He blames the heat getting to his head and the fact she gets sharper every day.

“That’s a good question. I don’t know. Why do you think it’s blue?”

She hums, turning over a sprout in her hand. “Is it because it’s your favorite color?”

He laughs a little, something catches, and he coughs once before saying, “I’ve honestly never really thought about it. I guess so.” He digs the shovel's tip under a stone and thinks of the glint of Merrin’s hair. Was silver a color? “Now that I’m thinking about it, maybe blue isn’t my favorite.”

“I didn’t think so. Red wasn’t Papa’s.”

“I-hhheehh--HEt’SH!” Whether it’s a blessing or a curse, Cal sneezes, the shovel slips forward, and his head collides into the dirt wall.

It’s all pretty embarrassing. Luckily, Kata reacts with grace–she holds her stomach and kicks her legs and she snorts-laughs so hard it has her choking for breath.

Cal can’t help but let a little smile quirk at the corner of his mouth. He grabs her foot, shaking it with false venom, “Laugh it up. If I’m sick, guess who finishes the job?”

She jerks her sandal from his grasp and stands up with a grin, “Merrin! I’ll go get her.”

“I meant you!” Cal calls after her, but she’s already around the corner. She’s faster than usual, and he swears he sees a hint of green. Merrin must be teaching her things. Good. That was good, right?

Cal shifts his weight onto the shovel's step, and he meets the resistance of the wire’s rubber coating. He kneels to get to work, brushing away dirt with his hand to find the wire’s insulation cracked. He begins stripping away at it.

A flash of green cracks to his right. He doesn’t need to look away from his work. He knows who it is, “Kata said you needed help,” Merrin’s alto voice rings out.

“Well,” He starts taping over the newly restored wiring, “The hard part is over.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

He turns to face her, “Of course, I don’t want you to–what?” He falters when her eyes flick up to his forehead and she smiles, not unsympathetic.

He rubs at it with the back of his hand and it comes back with dirt. He can feel his ears turn pink.

Merrin takes the shovel from his hand first and reaches down to help him out of the hole. Once he’s above ground again, she wordlessly begins finishing the task, pushing dirt back into place. Cal helps to the best of his ability, kicking it in with his foot. “Did she tell you how–…” “She told me how it happened, yes.” She shakes her head and uses her thumb to wipe the rest of the dirt off his face, ”What is wrong with you?”

Ears pinker still, he says, “Thanks. Nothing major. I, uh, think I might have picked up a bug.”

She regards him carefully, eyebrows raised, “A parasite?”

“I think it’s-a-cold..!” As if confirming its presence, Cal pitches forward. This time, he covers it with the crook of his arm. “HAT’SHh’uH…ugh.”

He feels a tug at the back of his neck and hears a tearing noise. Merrin pushes something into his hand—a piece of cloth. Bewildered, he sniffs, “Did you rip this off the back of my scarf?

Merrin pinches the edge of what’s left of it behind him between two fingers. “Was it not more of a cape? Did you need it?”

“I guess not.” Cal huffs out a laugh and turns away to blow his nose.

They walk back to Pyloon’s together. The doors slide open, and he’s relieved that half of the bar’s lights hold steady with a healthy hum. The other half remains disconnected and black. He’ll take it as a win.

“Cal!” He turns to see Kata with a grin so wide he worries it’ll crack her face. “I helped make you something! Be right back!” He clears his throat to reply, but she’s already rushing towards the kitchen, weaving between customers. The regulars side-step her, used to her bursts of energy.

Merrin slips into a booth, and Cal sits across from her. He swipes a few napkins from the dispenser and shoves them into his pocket. He pulls out three more and uses the first to swipe under his nose.

Merrin’s dark eyes watch him, and she smiles, amused, “You are like a Moog hoarding food for the winter.”

“Well, at the rate I’m going, I won’t have much scarf left by the end of the night,” He huffs.

“Excuse me!” Kata’s voice rings out around the corner. Cal pokes his head out of the booth to see her stepping heel-toe towards them, eyes glued to the giant steaming bowl of soup in her hands. It sloshes wildly from left to right. He morbidly thinks of how it’s a perfect representation of how his stomach feels watching the piping-hot liquid get dangerously close to her skin.

He’s at her side instantly, lifting it from her grasp, “Is this for me?”

Kata follows him to the booth, crossing her arms, “Yeah but I had it!” She insists.

“Sorry. Do you want it back?” he asks, though he’s already set it on the table and reclaimed his seat.

Kata rolls her eyes, “It’s okay, I guess,” She scrambles up next to Merrin and sits on her knees.

Cal scoops up a heaping spoonful and sticks it in his mouth. It’s still steaming when he swallows it, but he can barely mind the burn when it’s wonderfully salty with something akin to dill. He chews on a bite of potato, “Did Greeze help you with this?”

Kata grins, “How did you know?”

Cal shrugs, “Because it’s delicious.”

“Really?!” She plants her hands on the table to lean over to look into the bowl. Her eyes reflect the golden blobs floating in the broth. They look like stars.

I saw the entire galaxy in her eyes.

He feels a wave of nausea, but he pushes through and shoves the spoon back into his mouth. Under the table, Merrin taps his foot a little. He glances up and she gives him a questioning look. He smiles at her and hopes it’s reassuring.

“Tell us how you made it, child,” Merrin says, tucking a strand of hair behind Kata’s ear.

“Greeze chopped the vegetables, but I added the spices,” Kata lights up, “They’re from the garden.”

Cal eats while she talks. The broth is rich and coats his throat, and the steam makes it easier to breathe. He should make sure Kata gets a bowl, one that hasn’t been contaminated with whatever head cold struck him this time. Unfortunately, his nose starts running before he can say anything. He ducks his face into another napkin, “Hih-HIt’SHuh!”

“Sounds like you’re coming down with something nasty.”

Cal sniffs, teary-eyed, as Greeze saddles up next to them and leans against Merrin’s side of the booth. “It’s not so bad. I ended up getting free soup out of the whole thing.”

“You get a free bed along with it, too,” Greeze jerks his thumb towards Cal’s room, “Might as well make use of it.”

The thought is tempting. His head feels too heavy and too light simultaneously, “Thaahhnk-Hih!…” He catches himself, turning and blinking away the feeling. It leaves his nose buzzing. “Sorry, thank you. I’ll head down in a minute. I haven’t had a chance to catch up with Merrin.”

She shares a look with Kata, who grins and asks, “Who’s Berrid?”

“Oh, ha ha,” Cal smiles, despite himself, “Our beloved Nightsister has nothing to say to that?”

“Don’t make fun of the ailing; it’s not honorable,” Merrin’s voice remains steady, but her eyes dance with laughter. “My day was fine, Cal.”

He rests his cheek in his hand. She looks nice in this light. He wonders if everything looks different to her nocturnal eyesight. He sniffs and bites down a curse as his nose starts to itch again. “That’s good. You went book huh-hunting?”

Her dark lips quirk into a smile, “I found an old text on magnets and galaxies. I left it on your bed.” Merrin had been exploring caves on Jeddah to help Cal link something–anything to figure out how to fix the compass. The design was so advanced, Cal struggled to even get the damn thing open.

“HehH…!!”

But, reading books is a nice, non-physically exhausting activity, something to look forward to. He would be so lost without Merrin. He would be so dead without Merrin.

“RRt’SHHuh!” He buries his face into his napkin and tries to recover as casually as possible, but, “MPHHsshuh!!!” He blinks, dizzy.

Merrin squeezes his forearm, “You should go take a look.”

“...Yeah, alright,” Cal lets his shoulders slump and he begins to get up, stiff. “Wait,” He squints, his focus hazing. He turns to Kata, “There’s enough soup left for you, right?”

Greeze laughs, “You don’t usually just make one bowl of soup, Cal, there’s a whole pot.” He seems a little disturbed, but that’s nothing new. Greeze is routinely unsettled by a lot of things Cal says these days. The thought makes him ache.

A flash of green and a cool hand on his forehead diverges him from his thoughts. He’s having trouble holding onto those today–thoughts. But Merrin is taking his arm, so he’s fine with whatever happens next.

“Goodnight Cal!” Kata calls after him.

They turn the corner and he slurs, “S’the middle of the day.”

Merrin pushes his hair back. He fights a shiver creeping up his shoulders, and she whispers, “On’sila,” in his ear. He doesn’t know what it means, but the words are nice little puffs of air on his neck. She scrapes her nails down his scalp, and he finds his eyes closing. Her other hand guides him to lie down, and he recognizes the soft comforter of his bed.

When did they get here?

The floor crackles and he hears the doors slide open. “What about the ‘old magnet text?’” He asks, and he winces when his voice breaks on “text.”

There are a few moments of silence where he worries he’ll fall asleep. But, soon enough, he feels the heavy weight of paper and leather as she drops it, rather heavily into his lap.

“You won’t last 15 minutes,” She wagers.

He blinks his eyes open and sits up on his elbows. The world spins momentarily but settles, and he begins thumbing through the pages,“C’mon, give me at least twenty.”

Merrin plucks it from his grasp. He doesn’t reach for it back but shoots her a questioning look. She meets it with a level stare, “I will read.”

Cal rolls his eyes and starts to reach for it again, but she jerks it away and hastily announces, “To practice my Basic.”

That gets him reconsidering and relaxing back into bed, so she begins. “Magnetic fields in the spiral arms of our galaxy are tilted away from the galactic average by a high degree…”

#Jedi Survivor sickfic #merrical #sickfic #Post-jedi survivor fic #jedi survivor #jedi survivor fic #found family #cal kestis #nightsister merrin #kata akuna #greez dritus

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ganxiously · 12 days ago

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I was really trying to keep it to myself because it does give away the plot a little bit and also perhaps misleads it a bit but apparently 'if it hurts you, make it everyone else's problem' is the mindset that I now have.

The entire street is ensconced in thick, black smoke when they arrive, pouring out like sludge from the ventilation holes they have cut on the roof for pressure release. The fire isn’t visible from the outside but from what they had been told by dispatch, Buck knows that the entire interior of the one-storey commercial building is up in flames. Given that most of the storefronts he can see are for fabrics and furniture, it is apparent why there was a need for eight teams to get the fire under control. The IC that meets them at the command tent looks calm but harried, letting out a gusty sigh when he sees that a fresh new team has arrived to lend them a hand. They had been halfway through dinner when the call had come in so Buck’s still a bit hungry but he’s also thankful. Not that there’s anything to be thankful about so much damage and so many livelihoods lost but Chimney had looked like he was finally losing the ability to keep his questions to himself and Buck will be eternally grateful that the call had come in before Chimney could through the proverbial first stone into the glass walls of Buck’s carefully taped together life. The IC explains to Bobby where the fire is concentrated and how they plan on getting to it by launching a double-pronged attack through the roof and through the stores. Buck exchanges a look with Eddie to make sure they are on the same page here. After all, climbing onto the roof and using ladder pipes to fight the fire from above? Cool. He’s just about to open his mouth to volunteer for the work when someone else enters the tent. “We managed to control the fire leaking out onto the roof but the structure was too unstable for any of us to go down there.”

Tommy is using his outside people voice again, he thinks before he even registers whose voice he is hearing and then slams his eyes shut because he knows what is going to happen the moment he sees Tommy again. But the temptation is too strong, has always been too strong since that very first moment Tommy stepped out of the shadows of his chopper to introduce himself. And Buck had been doing good, he had been doing great. He even had a second date coming up this weekend, though it was the bowling alley he was looking forward to more than seeing Jack again. And now he knows he will go back and make up excuses to cancel the meetup, probably even block his number to ensure he doesn’t have to think about it again because one sight of him, ash-streaked, curls flying every which way and eyes, blue, blue, blue because they are really sensitive to smoke (he must have forgotten his eye drops again), is enough to wash away everything else — every experience he has had so far, the touch he has felt and the conversations he has had, the good and the bad and the fucking mediocre, until all that is left is the Buck of that night, sitting in his kitchen, alone again because the man he thought would be forever, decided he wasn’t worth the risk after all. Tommy’s eyes fall on him and Buck should look away, pretend he wasn’t staring, pretend it doesn’t matter but he’s missed him. The ache in him throbs, the delicate tissue of his heart exposed to anyone who wants to take a hit and yet he can’t help but drink in the sight of him, can’t help but luxuriate in the feel of those eyes on him in return. Yes, look at me and no one else, he wants to tell him. He wants to take hold of Tommy’s turnouts, tuck himself up against his neck and complain about how hard everything has been, even though Tommy is the person who is directly responsible for making it hard in the first place. He wants to tell him how hard it is to be one when he just got used to planning for two, how driving his car every day feels weird, how Eddie’s quips fall stale without anyone to back them up and the last time he told someone about his research binge, they just hemmed and hawed in a way that made it clear that they were not even listening in the first place. He wants Tommy to make his appropriately angry on his behalf noises even as Buck can feel the amusement come off him in waves. He wants to pinch Tommy’s waist in retaliation and watch him flinch away because that is his most ticklish spot. He wants to ask Tommy about his life. Did he find the problem in Lucy’s car? Make it to the anniversary party of the old friend he was considering going to? Did the cat that he feeds sometimes finally deliver her babies? Did he move on? Did he find someone who can make him believe in forever, at least better than Buck had? Tommy’s lips part like he’s about to say something and Buck turns away. He doesn’t want to hear Tommy’s voice give shape to whatever stilted, awkward or mean thing that’s about to come out of his mouth. And he definitely doesn’t want to hear him say Buck. “Bobby? I’ll go help Hen with triage.” Bobby’s eyebrows make a valiant climb towards his hairline before remembering they are supposed to be pretending that nothing’s wrong. Buck knows he’s giving himself away, to his team and god knows, however many firefighters are there cramped in that little tent and Tommy, who knows exactly how much Buck likes being in the thick of things. Tommy who knows that were it any other day, any other time with any other team than the 217, Buck would be up on that ladder or ploughing through rolls of half-burnt fabric in search of flames. “Yes, you do that, Firefighter Buckley. We’ve got it covered here and I’m sure they could use an extra pair of hands over there.”

sorry if it sounds a bit rough. i haven't had the opportunity to edit it yet

#bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #fic #kinsey scale fic

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electromignion · 1 year ago

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Young Jeremy Bradshaw fanart! (Bridgewater my beloved)

“Dad? Can you hear me? Are you out there?”

Here’s my latest Bridgewater fanart! I wanted to explore more young!Jeremy Bradshaw; especially as in S2 he mentioned having been tried Wicca when he was younger; so it struck me directly — what if he tried witchcraft overall? And my mind unraveled to that point to now 👌

If you want more explanation about the fanart and my headcanons about Jeremy you can click on read more (because again details are detailing way too much)✌️

So let’s first start with young Jeremy, as he admitted to believe, I wanted to show how he tried to explore all the possibilities and I totally see him as a little bit of a rebellious teen as he is still in denial and as he is aching for the come back of Thomas. That’s why he tries to contact him with the pendulum, he wants to believe.

And I thought how Jeremy would express himself in this situation? That’s why I gave him black nail polish, an earring, and you can’t see it much but he has some black eyeshadow, to me it was his way to express himself.

As a way to express himself too, on the picture framed on the left in the red frame, it’s him as a teen with his mother and his step-dad, as I heard in S1 EP01 that Jeremy’s mother said dad to talk about the guy and Jeremy corrected her, I thought about that grudge must have been lasting for a huge while, so that’s why he put a post it and crossed it as well, because he has always refused to replace Thomas in a way, and he looks quite uncomfy on the picture too.

However, another picture is framed: baby Jeremy with Thomas Bradshaw and this one is fully visible. It’s probably one of his only picture with his dad so he cherished it a lot. (My headcanon is that Jeremy had the film camera and took a picture by accident as he was excited to see the camera, and when they developed it they kept the picture as it was too adorable, and I love Jeremy with his one little tooth 🥺🥹)

He also cherishes the letter his dad has written to him for his fifth birthday, so just before his disappearance. As I don’t know if you will be able to read my handwriting here is my transcript:

“Dear Jeremy, Son, l know I promised to be here today, but *scribbled words which are “you know”* work is work sometimes. I’m sorry. You will probably understand later. You have plenty of birthdays to come, so I promise I’ll make it up to you. Take care of your mom ok? Happy 5th birthday, proud of you, x Dad”

Which makes it even more hurtful because he never got to celebrate another birthday with his son. (Yes I suffer, you suffer with me /lh)

For the context of this fanart, I thought it would be in the year 1995, so Jeremy would be 20 years old and it would match. So I then looked for Gameboy games which were out in North America before 1995 because I really like to be accurate, and I put Batman first because it’s a nod to Misha Collins’ role in Gotham Knights as he plays Harvey Dent! (Btw as an other Misha nod, I did the bed blanket pink for the famous pic of Misha with his pink blankie but that’s really anecdotal but that’s what I enjoy). I really wanted Jeremy to have Pokemon Red/Blue but unfortunately, it was out in Japan in 96’ and then 98’ in NA/EUR and import at the time was so-so, but as he likes myths and folklore he would love to catch pocket monsters for sure. (Maybe a next time??)

I put another paper taped to the wall which is just the Bridgewater triangle with the locations of each angles of it, I like to think that Jeremy was trying to find more information on it, that was his way to have a visual reminder of it all.

When it comes to the X-Files… because his t-shirt is some accurate 90s vintage t-shirt X-Files merch with “the truth is out there” written on it (I like details way too much), I think it is time to explain why TXF is so present in my full Bridgewater fanarts (the Big Blue mug reference to Quagmire 3x22 of txf, or even the I Want To Believe poster which is present usually in Mulder’s office ) not only the show is really important to me, but I really found the vibes of it in Bridgewater, and then it struck me, Jeremy had been Scully coded in the beginning of the S1 to then go to a sort of epiphany realising that things might end up real. But I truly don’t think that it stops here, because to me — we come to the headcanons — Jeremy has watched the X-Files as it aired. It started in 1993, he had 17 years old, he was not feeling good, he wanted to believe, who wanted to believe as well? Fox Mulder.

And it’s easy to draw the parallels: Jeremy has lost his father nobody cares anymore and he is only aching as he had been hoping for him to come back, his father disappeared in strange circonstances in the Bridgewater Triangle. Mulder has lost his little sister, Samantha, whom he was persuaded as a kid to have seen getting abducted by aliens, and everybody has lost hope on finding her, it’s easy to assume that Jeremy saw himself in a way in Mulder. Their seek for the truth is important but even when his belief starts to crumble I think he is still attached to the show and starts to find himself in the character of Scully, scientific and down to earth before anything else because it hurts less, and it’s his trauma response. But I think he ends up with the IWTB poster in his house as an adult as no matter what, he still wants to believe into the hope of finding Thomas again although he doesn’t believe it anymore.

For the witchcraft part he also has a tigers eye stone bracelet because it’s supposed to have strong properties of protection, and the pendulum is in amethyst as it’s supposed to bring soothing energy and good vibes — which might be useful to get contact with Thomas.

Then we come to my favourite fanart “plotwist” which I’m super proud of: the incense behind him as it’s burning is spelling “Jeremy?” which is a supposition that his contact with Thomas was indeed working — the veil hum hum cough cough — however he could not see it so not believe it, whereas ironically, the cone incense in front of him was burning normally, so this “séance” not working might have crumbled his beliefs into the supernatural too which put them into more into the rank of myths instead of real tangible possible things (and we can see his interests into myths and folklore already as the three books he has on his shelves are about it!)

As a ref of young!Jeremy Bradshaw I took refs on pics of Misha in his twenties 😭✌️

I hope you enjoyed my fanart (it took me roughly 13 hours this time) and my little explanation and thank you for reading it all! Lots of love 🫶

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rainbowchewynuggets · 2 years ago

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TMA Encore #10

The fire alarm rings throughout the halls of the archives. A blue-white flare flashes intermittently, casting stark shadows and pins of light on the silvery worms that seep in through every seam and vent in the basement.

Jon skids to a halt as he sees Tim and Martin approach him.

Jon: Are you both alright?

Tim: We’re fine.

Jon: Good. Good. Sasha just headed off to intercept Jonah, so we–

Martin: Look out!

He pulls Jon by the back of his shirt as a writhing flow of worms burgeon from the aged molding of a nearby wall corner. A dozen of them flick outward from the mass toward the spot where Jon was just standing. A few make contact with his arm. He brushes them away feverishly.

Tim: This way!

Tim leads the other two down a long hallway without many weak points. They pass an empty bracket where a wall appliance should be. Some worms slither around on the floor, but can’t get a hold as long as the boys are running.

Tim: Jonah’s down here. I just saw him. So, she can’t be far.

Jon takes about a second and a half to wonder why Jonah wouldn’t be upstairs like he was in the tapes. Not-Jon could have lured him somehow. Easier prey.

Once they reach a safe intersection, Jon stops them and tries to get his bearings.

Jon: Okay, hold on. We need to get to our original places. Tim, you need to split off and head to the CO2 canister room. Martin and I will follow around.

Tim: Then, just come with me!

Jon: He’ll notice.

Tim: Yeah, screw this.

With a single hoist, Tim picks Jon up by the waist and carries him like a rolled-up carpet. Jon exclaims and struggles but can’t get free.

Tim: Come on, Martin.

Martin: R-right.

They march around the corner as fast as they can manage without losing grip of Jon.

Jon: What on earth do you think you’re doing?!

Tim: The real plan. We’re fighting our way out of here.

Jon: You can’t be serious. This isn’t an action movie, Tim!

Tim: Sasha’s idea, actually. Martin liked it too.

Jon fires a look at Martin.

Martin: Sorry.

Jon keeps protesting as they navigate and try to avoid drifts of worms. Pain shoots up their ankles and wrists as a few catch hold. Panic starts to set in as they encounter more and more blank walls and empty wall brackets. They reach the storage room and find it empty.

Martin: Uh, Tim…?

Tim: Where the fuck are the CO2 canisters?

Sasha had to catch herself. Nearly said “Jonah”.

The head of the Magnus Institute is in the middle of thwacking a cluster of worms crawling along the wall with a rolled-up manila folder. He picks a few off of his arm. His pants are tucked into his socks.

Elias: Sasha. You should evacuate--someone pulled the fire alarm. Not to mention there are these things.

Sasha: I know, I pulled it. We better find a route as far away from supporting walls as we can.

Elias: Of course. They’ll take longer to fill up a larger room.

And it’ll make it harder for Not-Jon to sneak up, she hopes. Jonah may be a monster, but they can’t have him feeding the other predator.

Elias: I think the closest room is artifact storage.

Sasha: ...No. No, I think I’d rather try the big file room over this way.

Elias: Why?

Sasha stumbles over the thought of going through there again. Even if the table is gone, any of the other cursed objects could get her. There may be no reason they’d strike now more than any time before, but the thought of her life ending in the same spot again barbs her.

Sasha: Guh–I–if they’re eating through wood fiber, I’d rather have papers fall on me than bathtubs and axes.

Elias: Ah. Good point.

They head off. She lets him lead by a little bit, weighing how much of this he might have been hoping for and how much is genuine surprise. She can’t help but worry how difficult he’ll make himself if he catches on that they know something.

Elias: Sasha?

Sasha: Y-yes?

Elias: Were you also the one who locked all the doors? And removed the CO2 canisters?

Sasha: What? No. I didn’t even know they were.

Her mind races.

Elias: I thought it might have been Jon. He seems very unwell lately.

Sasha: Is now really the time, sir?

They’ve nearly reached the file room.

Elias: You’re right. I can assess the team’s efficacy after this is over. And make changes from there.

Sasha: Well, it wasn’t any of us.

She speaks reflexively and only realizes the implication of another actor after taking a good pull at the file room door.

The second the door swings open, the two of them have to leap back as a wave of worms comes spilling out. They cover Sasha’s feet. She rips them off as quickly as she can, but she misses a few that make it into her socks. When she looks up, Jonah is gone.

Sasha: J–! *sigh*

She moves on in search of another path.

Tim, Jon, and Martin are running out of options. Tim has put Jon down, his muscles tired from toting him around and getting kicked for it. It doesn’t matter. There’s no way back to the original route without crossing rivers of worms. Jon is occupied with watching their blind spots with Martin. He reserves the right to bitch about being manhandled, however. Tim doesn’t even hear him. He’s laser focused on finding their way through the maze of corridors.

All the connecting rooms their plan is counting on are locked. Neither his or Martin’s best shoulder charge can break them down. They don’t really have time to try, anyway. It feels like the worms are coming out faster and faster. The three of them all have little tag-alongs on their arms and legs too deep to dig out. Martin can swear one went down the back of his shirt. There are no CO2 canisters anywhere. The air smells stale, almost putrid.

It feels like they’ve been down there for hours by the time they reach the stairs. Tim stops at the intersection and looks around.

Martin: Wasn’t Sasha supposed to meet us?

Tim calls her name down the halls. No answer. The three of them unanimously decide that they’re not going anywhere without her and dive back in. As they turn around, Jon notices that the heavy security door at the top of the stairs is shut. He’s never seen it shut.

Jon: It looks like our exits are being cut off. The tunnels might be our only option after all.

Tim: I swear to god, I’ll take that door off its hinges if I have to. We’re not going down there again.

Martin doesn’t say anything. He nervously glances between them and the halls with his jaw set.

The putrid smell intensifies.

Jon and Tim graduate to arguing over directions and minutia of risk. The rising tide of silver worms make their choices narrower and narrower, yet they both find grounds to disagree. It reaches a point where they’re fighting over whether or not to open a door. Martin’s eyes and stomach hurt from the smell. He can swear it’s getting stronger the longer they wait. Worms press in from the way they came. He holds his breath, takes a step between his teammates, and opens the door himself.

Tim turns and runs.

Sasha has lost track of time. She was definitely supposed to meet Tim and the others by now. Whenever she thinks she’s found a valid path forward, she ends up with worms or locked doors and has to double back and circle around. Her fingers turn cold as she tries not to picture what kind of trouble they could be dealing with while they’re separated. She hopes Jon wasn’t too irate.

Part of her might be willing to be bolder if the other part didn’t already know what would happen. Death by misadventure. Again. That is, if Not-Jon doesn’t elect to pay her back for her meddling first. She tries to listen for footsteps, but the gut-churning squirming is drowning out everything else. And then, there’s that smell. She pushes forward.

Within the next couple minutes, she thinks she does hear something. A voice, maybe. Instinct tells her to hide, but she isn’t about to go anywhere near the walls. She doesn’t even feel like she should stop moving.

Jon: Back this way.

Sasha: Jon? Jon!

She sprints around the next corner and skips over a heap of worms. She nearly trips.

Her heart sinks through the floor.

Sasha: Oh, god. How–why–?

Martin: Prentiss cornered us. He cleared our way out… kind of. But I think he’s okay. He’s just unconscious.

Jon: We’re trapped. We need to get to the tunnels.

Sasha glances at Martin. He nods decisively.

She marches ahead and scouts their way to the room at the end of the hall. Guilty frustrated tears pool in her eyes as she approaches the door she had risked her friends’ safety to avoid. She kicks away some worms and tries to see if it’ll even open.

The doorknob to the office slides easily in its socket. There are two flashlights, extra batteries, and a first aid kit waiting for them beside the trapdoor. Sasha looks at Jon. He shakes his head like, “Wasn’t me.”

They all know who it was. This was planned. There was never any escape.

Martin sighs.

Martin: Come on. Almost there.

Sasha lifts the carpet-covered plank a crack. Seeing nothing immediately alarming, she opens it the rest of the way and holds it so the others can carefully pick their way down. She grabs the gear and follows.

The tunnels aren’t as quiet as they should be. Soft unintelligible echoes drift up through the darkness in overlapping strains. The noise does nothing to describe what activity could be going on deeper in the prison–only to remind that there is, indeed, something there. Jon tries to ignore it as he holds the flashlight for Martin and Sasha while they work on stabilizing Tim.

He watches the shallow rise and fall of Tim’s stained shirt, trying to keep his worries off of all the red holes and whatever he isn’t seeing with his back turned. His mind still finds room to wander and berate. There wasn’t actually that much evidence to suggest that Not-Jon would find them on their first escape attempt. If he had planned the mess they’re in now, he might have been counting on Jon to stall before. If he hadn’t, they might have made it out. But he just had to get them caught. He had to be sure. The view of the flashlight quivers back and forth. He tucks the handle under his arm.

Once in a while, a sharper noise gets Sasha and Martin’s attention. Jon snaps around with the flashlight extended accusatorily, finding nothing there but some aimless stray worms. They resume.

Martin tries to be precise with the corkscrew, but the wounds are already deep. Slowly, the worms come out, one by one.

Sasha: Maybe we should stop and let him rest a bit. The bleeding might be too much.

Martin puts the screw and Tim’s arm down gratefully. He wipes off his stiff hands on a cheap rag from the kit.

Martin: *dryly* Anybody want to go next?

Jon looks a little sick and hangs his head.

Sasha wraps and ties off a bandage layered with gauze around Tim’s forearm.

Sasha: I, um, might have tipped Jonah off on my way down here. For all we know, he’s already headed for the hills.

Jon: Not unless he miraculously got through to unlock the doors. I’d bet he’s down here somewhere.

Sasha: Along with our old pal.

Martin: I guess we’ll have to figure out a way to keep them away from each other. Fast.

Jon and Sasha look at him.

Martin: Well, what else are we gonna do? Who knows what’s going to happen if he gets what he wants?

Jon: *glancing at Tim* It’s out of our hands, Martin.

“He’s not wrong.”

Jon keeps the flashlight trained on the apparition. The other Martin is perfectly unbothered in the harsh light. The group’s alarm subsides.

Sasha: You must be with The Thing That Used To Be Jonathan Sims?

Not-Martin: I suppose you could say that. Which… would make me What Remains of Martin Blackwood.

Jon, Martin, Sasha: Not-Martin.

NM: Sure.

Not-Martin gives Tim a quick appraisal. He gently rolls back Tim’s pant leg to the knee, revealing a whole series of holes that Martin hasn’t gotten to yet. The others flinch, unsure if it’d be a good idea to try to stop him.

NM: Good lord. That went badly, didn’t it?

His tone is devoid of concern. Tim sucks air as the other Martin scores his hand up the red-riddled leg, forcing the worms out as burnt black coils. The skin is instantly cauterized and healed. The others stare in appalled fascination.

NM: I’m really not a fan of the Desolation… or the Flesh. But they can be made to come in handy.

Tim lolls his head, not quite able to regain consciousness. Not-Martin gives him a quick slap across the face, and he’s wide awake. Tim presses up against the wall, his attention flicking between the two Martins with instant suspicion.

Tim: This the other one?

NM: The one that just saved your leg. Can I see your arm?

Tim notices the absent pain and does some calculations in his head. He submits his arm. The wounds are completely healed, if with an unfavorable hissing sound. Not to mention Not-Martin’s ice hold hands. Tim feels his arm over. Nothing seems acutely out of place. Did his arm hair always grow in that direction?

NM: Sorry it took me so long to catch up.

Jon: Were you part of the other me’s plan all along?

NM: Can’t imagine I would be. I’m trying to stop him.

As Not-Martin works on the rest of them, he explains his objective. He does so as casually as outlining a to-do list. Jon guesses that he’s been here before, too.

In short, Not-Jon really does want to prevent an apocalypse, but his plan is doomed to fail. His logic is deeply swayed by the hunger of the Fears, and he’s unable to see that. Not-Martin keeps trying to interfere, so Not-Jon stalls him as much as he can between interactions with the group.

He asks the group some questions. They don’t exactly trust him, so they give him a general summary of their ordeal from the past few months. No details. The corner of Not-Martin’s mouth pulls thoughtfully. He says that things probably went roughly the way that Not-Jon expected. He usually winds up having to deal with Jonah in the Panopticon.

Jon: Then what was the point of having me hide the statements?

Tim: Nothing. Just keeping you busy.

Jon restrains a glare, unable to argue.

Not-Martin’s gaze searches somewhere above them.

NM: Well… maybe not nothing.

Below, all the worms on the ground wither and die.

NM: And there goes Jane.

Not-Jon struggles to hold together as he overtakes the vacuum created by the absence of Jane. His throat fills up with flossy spores. His skin rots and turns blue with ugly uneven patches of mold. His old worm wounds turn to greasy pits as his tissues shrivel and tear. He is a vague decomposing shape on unsteady legs.

He imagines pulling himself upward, through the rising tide of the Corruption’s desire to rot and hollow. If he keeps pulling, he’ll be able to surmount it. He’s done it countless times before. But it just keeps coming. The pulling is hard. It’s tiring. It hurts so much. He doesn’t stop.

Jon notices Not-Martin through the floor. Not-Martin finishes healing the others and stands up. Not-Jon grits his teeth and steps away from the wall. The Corruption slowly recedes.

————

First

The fact that I hadn’t introduced Not-Martin yet was one of the big reasons I didn’t give up on this project. So happy he’s finally here.

#the magnus archives #mag200 spoilers #magnus pod #tma fancomic #tma encore 10 #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #sasha james #tim stoker #jonah magnus #elias bouchard #the corruption #cw parasites #cw pitted skin #cw blood #cw decomposition

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cellard0ors · 2 years ago

Text

Laura eyes each of the green cans of paint surrounding her. She then eyes each of the green marks she made on the white wall in front of her.

She compares the various greens. Which one looks better?

Galapagos Green or Ming Jade? Pale Clover or Mountain Mint? Her mouth swishes from side to side while she weighs the pros and cons of each shade.

She fiddles with the waist band of her leggings as she does so, annoyed yet again at the slightly uncomfortable feeling. She's not really showing yet, but she's certainly...thicker than she used to be.

So much so, that it's clear she's going to have to go clothes shopping soon and she's so lost in her thoughts and the variety of paint colors that she nearly jumps out of her skin when she hears, "What are you doing?"

Laura turns to see Travis standing in the doorway. He looks tired and mulish as always and she simply sighs, relaxing where she sits on the wooden floor of the work-in-progress nursery.

She has paint tarps and tape all readied along the wall she's currently studying and she waves to it, "Weighing my options."

"On?"

"Who's going to win the Super Bowl." Laura deadpans and he scowls at the smart ass remark even as she adds, "The color for the room, obviously."

Travis looks at the open cans and brushes, then to her with a frown, "Should you even be doing this in your, ah? Condition?"

She shrugs, "Everything I read online says it should be okay. Just have to make sure there's a lot of ventilation, I take adequate breaks - things like that. Not all that different from doing the job in a non-pregnant capacity."

"Okay." He says it, but he still sounds disapproving. Annoyed, but trying to stay positive, Laura gets to her feet and taps the wall near one color, "This is called Ming Jade."

"Uh huh." Travis returns as if it's the most boring thing he's ever heard. She scowls, but continues, "And this is Pale Clover."

"Alright."

... she's going to strangle him.

It must show on her face, because he scoffs, "What?"

"What? What do you mean 'what'? I'm asking you what you think! Which shade you like! We agreed on green, yeah?"

"Yes, but-!"

"We also agreed we didn't want to know the sex of the baby until they're born and we agreed pink and blue have been done to death anyway, so I got some paint and I put it up and I'm trying to get your opinion and you're just standing there looking as deadass as you did when you had me behind bars and-!"

"I do not!"

He is ignored as she charges on, "-this is just as much your decision as it is mine! Just as this baby is just as much yours as it is-!"

"I KNOW THAT!" Travis thunders and Laura grows quiet. She's still angry, but his snapping at her so loudly cuts her words short and she just glares at him, nostrils flaring.

Travis breathes in deep and holds out a steadying hand, voice dipping to a lower volume, "...I...I know that, Laura, I'm just-?"

He chews on his bottom lip and he suddenly looks so... awkward, so shy, that she feels an odd pang of sympathy for him.

It only grows worse when he adds, "I... don't know a lot about this."

"And I do?" She scoffs but he simply shrugs, "You've always come across as very capable to me. More capable than I am."

"True." Comes from her easily and it's clear he wants to scowl, but can't because he is, after all, the one to have said it. Her reaction isn't uncalled for. In fact, he probably should have anticipated it.

Still, "My point is, while you've been...kind enough to allow me decisions in this, I'm... hesitant to make them. That's all."

Laura's lips twitch, "I'm not being 'kind'. I'm being logical, stupid."

She's sure the look he levels at her is supposed to come across as deadly, but it only makes her smile, "Travis, this is our baby's nursery. We should choose the color together. We agreed on green, but now we need to agree on which green."

Travis looks adorably ruffled at the idea, "...how many greens are there?"

This gets a laugh from her, "Hundreds. I've just managed to narrow it down to these four."

"These four, huh?" He seems...softer now. Humbled somewhat and he walks farther into the room. He stands right next to her and she finds his proximity... intriguing.

Laura resolves to blame it on the hormones.

Same for her suddenly noticing how much taller he is than her. Much taller than her previous boyfriends and how that causes a flutter in her chest and he is not her boyfriend and heat is radiating off of him in delicious waves and-!

... hormones! Definitely the hormones!

Travis looks at each of the greens and then stops to tap a finger next to one, "This one."

"That one?" Laura asks, but he merely repeats himself, sounding sure, "This one."

Laura narrows her eyes at it critically and then starts bobbing her head, "Okay. Yeah...this one."

"Which shade is this?"

"Mountain Mint."

"Mountain Mint," he shakes his head, a very minute smile on his face, "What will they think of next."

"Soooooo..." Laura drags out as she eyes him from one side, "Why this one?"

Travis turns to her, face serious even as he murmers, "Because of this..."

He then proceeds to lightly brush the back of his hand along her right cheek.

Laura startles at the touch. He's been oh-so-careful not to touch her since this all began. The last time she can even truly recall him touching her was when they'd hurriedly come together after that night at the quarry.

The morning light streaming in through thin curtains as he took her on a short bookshelf in the lodge's library...

It's a shiny, odd marble of memory she rolls over and over in her mind now again, her brain trying to decipher it, trying to figure out why exactly it happened.

She's sure it was because of all the trauma and the grief and the guilt and the anger...

But either way, whatever it was or whatever sparked it, it led to their child's conception and it can't be changed or challenged. It was a catalyst that brought them to this house and this room and to this moment where he's... touching her again.

But the touch is brief and over before it's even really begun and Travis looks apologetic and sheepish as if he didn't even know he would do that as he wipes at his own cheek, "You've got some, um-?"

Laura touches her now burning cheek and, sure enough, she feels a patch of dry, flaky film that is no doubt a smudge of paint. The very paint he points to again, "Seems like it chose you, so...I'm just agreeing with it "

"I...I see." She breathes and she does, but she doesn't, and their eyes lock something seems to pass between them unspoken.

Suddenly Laura feels a little light-headed and she wonders if it's the paint or him or both when he sighs and looks down, looks away, as if he's ashamed of himself, "Anyway...if it looks good on you, I have no doubt it'll look good on the walls too."

Travis then turns and leaves. Leaves Laura to stand there and absorb two things. One, that after all this time he touched her again and, two, that he just gave her a compliment.

And, honestly?

She doesn't know what to do with either. Not at all.

#hackearney #travis x laura #unexpected gifts

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sassy-ahsoka-tano · 2 years ago

Text

DADDY ISSUES - Part Nine: Make Daddy Proud

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: You told Elvis what you wanted and he provided, although it may not have been what you were hoping for. You shouldn't be so surprised to learn that he has another surprise up his sleeve, but this one is a bit different. [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: colonel lmfaoo but that's it

Rating: Pg-13 || Word Count: 7606

A/N: y'all know what comes next after this gif 🥴 the fact that it cuts off right before?? Ash you don't even realize how perfectly it fits with this chapter omg. also yes, we are talking about THAT brown suit y'all know the one

Song Rec: make daddy proud - blackbear

This is Part 9 of Daddy Issues. Find the rest of the series here!

[ masterlist | taglist ]

🦋 mila

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

When you wake up the next morning, you decide to spend the next few days relaxing and recuperating after the, frankly, painful experience from last night. Since you usually only see Elvis once a week, you figure it won't be a problem. That logic makes you extra surprised when you return from the market just before dinner to find a note taped to your door. You read it as you carry your groceries inside to put them away.

Princess, 7 pm tonight. Don’t be late. D

You roll your eyes but can’t deny the feeling of excitement that grows within your stomach at the thought of him pleasuring you. You've been holding off on touching yourself since you moved here, hoping your pent-up energy would eventually be released by Elvis himself. Now that you've gotten a taste, you need it even more.

You’re hoping for more of an intimate experience tonight; you want him to use his hands on you, not just use a tool. You need to feel his warmth, his touch, his everything on your body.

You spend most of the rest of the day reading, doing some cleaning and chores, and watching television. While you’re in the middle of getting ready, the phone rings. You rush out of the bathroom, waving your hand in front of the drying mascara on your face, and pick up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Hey, princess!" Max's voice comes through the receiver. "You still down to hit the bar after the show tonight?”

“Max! I’d love to!” you silently thank Max for calling you up. You’d managed to forget that you said you’d go out with him for a drink after the show tonight. You nod. “I can’t wait. See you tonight?”

“Great. Can’t wait to see you. I miss you,” he says and you bite your lip in happiness.

"Good," you reply with a giggle.

You hang up the phone and finish getting ready to meet Elvis for the night, remembering to stuff an extra pair of pants and a top inside your bag so that you can change before going out to the bar. You do your usual makeup check in the mirror right next to the door and get downstairs promptly on time. Or so you think. As you step backstage, you realize that you’re already a minute late. You groan but your attention is pulled away when you hear Max’s voice.

“Y/N? Damn, you look amazing!” he shouts and you glance up to see him smiling with his arms outstretched toward you.

You return the expression and stop, having no choice other than to talk to him. You tap your foot, momentarily impatient, but quickly forget yourself when he comes closer. The smell of his familiar, musky cologne wafts into your nostrils.

“Thank you, thank you!” you say happily, doing a little twirl for him. “Only my best for our little date night. Even though this isn’t what I’m wearing. It’s a little too much, I think.”

“No, it’s perfect. I love you in blue,” he says, leaning against the wall.

You quirk an eyebrow but drop your gaze as heat creeps into your neck and face. You tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Well then, just wait until you see the outfit I actually have planned for the bar,” you say, winking at him. “Although I would love to hear your fashion advice? Any tips?”

You spin around, slowly, glancing over your shoulder to flash him your most charming smirk. When you've completed your turn, you lean your back against the column nearest to you.

“Oh yeah?” he replies, biting his lip. “Alright. Let’s start at your hips. Amazing, beautiful hips, very voluptuous. A gentle waist and beautiful, elegant legs. I bet you’d look sexy in just about anything, but, personally…”

He takes a couple of steps closer to you, his fingers expertly sliding into yours. You allow him to intertwine your fingers and press your palms together. His thumb brushes over your knuckles as he leans against the column, his body hovering over yours. He smirks down at you. His eyes drop down across your figure and lazily roll back up to meet your gaze.

“Personally, I’d like to see you in nothing.”

You release a quiet giggle, tilting your head to the side and preparing for him to press his lips to yours. Just as your lips brush together, you’re interrupted.

“Y/N.”

You jerk backward and wince when you accidentally bump the back of your head against the column. Your heart stops suddenly in your chest. You immediately recognize the voice which calls out to you. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly before daring to open them again and turn your head to the side. Sure enough, there he is in the flesh. Elvis, in a baby blue jumpsuit with gems studded all over it. As usual, the suit is mostly unfastened.

You gulp, suddenly genuinely worried for the first time that you might lose your position as his most honored sugar baby. You drop your gaze from his, terrified by the downward slope of his eyebrows and the sullen expression of his cheeks. He looks enraged, infuriated. You've seen him angry before but nothing like this.

“Are you aware of the time?” he asks firmly.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Presley,” you reply immediately. “I was just-”

“Who the hell is this?”

He nods his chin toward Max and you turn to glance at your friend. Max's eyebrows are raised and his eyes widened. You can tell he’s worried about being fired, too. You gulp.

“Uh, this is Max Carver. He’s a stagehand. We were just, uh…”

You glance back over at Max for backup, raising your eyebrows in a plea for help.

“We were just talking about our plans for later,” Max responds, truthfully, to your surprise. You turn away from him and toward the floor, too afraid to face Elvis and too anxious to look at Max.

“What plans for later?” Elvis asks dryly.

“Uh, yeah...Y/N and I were planning to hit up a bar on the strip after the shows tonight. Just the two of us," Max replies cheerily.

Elvis says nothing, his lips pressed into a tight line. His eyes flick over to you, not an ounce of compassion left in them. His gaze quickly tracks up and down your figure before he shifts his head back to Max. Elvis holds out a hand, curling his fingers and gesturing for Max to step closer to him. As Max does so, you sigh frustratedly, feeling anger pooling inside you. Elvis told you you were allowed to see other people so you don't understand why he's making such a fuss. What is the problem?

Elvis puts an arm around Max's shoulders and harshly jerks the stagehand against his side, turning them both to face you. You fold your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling awkward under the gaze of the two men you’re...involved with. Elvis points toward you.

“Look at her. Classy, elegant, beautiful. A woman,” he spits and you watch the venomous way the corners of his mouth quirk up. He turns his head to speak directly into Max's ear. "She doesn’t wanna fuck you, son. She wants to fuck daddy.”

At the sound of his words, all of your breath is sucked from your chest. Your heart begins to beat faster and you can feel it pulsing in your temples. All you can do is stare at Elvis. For a moment, Max seems to shrink beside him as Elvis’ power and influence overtake the room. The tension grows until it’s thick enough to cut with a knife. You know you should be defending Max but you can’t bring yourself to speak or do anything. All you can manage is breathing and staring.

“What in god’s name is going on here?” An unfamiliar voice suddenly breaks through the conversation. You all turn around to see Elvis' manager, the Colonel, waddling his way over to you all. “Mr. Presley is supposed to be onstage in less than five minutes and you’re all standing around arguing? You,” he points at Max, “explain yourself.”

Max starts to stutter and you’re sure he’s terrified of losing his job. You step up in front of him, standing firmly between your friend and the Colonel.

“We were just chatting," you say. "Nothing needs to be explained. We’re friends and we were having a conversation.”

The Colonel takes a puff of his cigar and then blows it straight into your face. You recoil and resist the urge to wave your hand in the air to dispel the smoke. You stare through the white cloud as it dissolves into the transparent air between you. You don’t allow your eyes to leave his.

“Have whatever conversations you like as long as they don’t disrupt Mr. Presley’s activities. The activities he gets paid for,” the Colonel replies and it takes everything in your body not to bitch slap him across the face right then and there.

“Damn straight. Now, get back to work fore I fire your ass,” Elvis says and you turn to see him pointing directly at Max.

Max stumbles away, throwing you a glance which lands somewhere between confusion and betrayal. All you can do is shake your head and shrug. You want to apologize but you can’t find the words to say it out loud. Before you get a chance to muster anything, he’s already passed and Elvis is commanding you yet again.

“Inside. Now.”

You turn toward him, the anger in your body rising to an unhealthy level. You flatten your lips and clench your jaw, stalking past Elvis and the Colonel into the dressing room. As soon as you’re inside, you turn around and prop your hands on your hipbones. You tap your foot impatiently as you wait for him to come in. He walks into the room, slamming the door behind him. You open your mouth to speak, but he does so first.

“What time is it?”

“What?” you spit, shaking your head in confusion.

“Answer the goddamn question, princess.”

You scoff, glancing at your watch.

“Seven-fifteen,” you answer dryly.

“And what time did I tell you to be down here?”

“Seven,” you reply, grinding your teeth

“Ah, so you do know. Now, I’m no mathematical genius, but last time I checked, 7:15 is after 7 o’clock. Ain't that right, doll?”

“Yes,” you mutter through clenched teeth.

“Mm. Mhm,” he hums in response, his expression unchanging.

You grit your teeth as your fingers curl into fists by your sides. The displeasure, annoyance, and disappointment of your experience so far as his sugar baby begin to settle on you. Your head continues to spin and you feel your chest growing tighter.

“Listen," you hiss. "I was just talking with a friend. Is that not allowed now?”

“Yeah, sure. It's allowed. Whenever you want, 'cept when you on my time.”

“Your time? Excuse me?”

“Don't play round, darlin. You agreed to these rules when you accepted the proposal.”

“I didn’t agree to shit!” you’re shouting now, leaning toward him as if to challenge him. “I didn’t sign anything!”

“Fine!” he shouts back, seemingly growing in size above you. “If that’s how you wanna play it, then you can say a sweet goodbye to your weekly gifts!”

“Look, I’m sorry I was late, okay? But maybe if you didn't schedule our sessions with so little time, we wouldn't have to rush like this.”

"Maybe if you wasn't late we wouldn't be havin this conversation."

"I was literally just talking with my friend! Sue me!"

“Ah, talkin with your friend? Or is he your boyfriend?”

You scoff, throwing your arms up frustratedly and then slamming them back down by your sides. You point at him with a firm finger.

“What difference does it make to you? You’re the one who said it was no problem if I dated other people, so that’s what I’m doing. God knows I’m not being satisfied by you!”

Although his face hardens and you can see his jaw clench harshly, you don’t regret a single word of your angry speech. It’s all true and he needs to know.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he says through clenched teeth.

“Oh please. I ask you to pay a little bit of attention to me so that I can experience some pleasure, too, and you pull that shit last night with the vibrating panties?"

"I did what you asked."

"No. You put in the most minimal effort possible. You embarrassed me in front of the entire audience. You used me for your own selfish pleasure. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I did what you asked,” he repeats and takes a step closer, bearing down over you.

You rise up onto your tiptoes, lengthening out your neck to show him you’re unafraid. All of your concerns are gone, replaced by the intense rage pulsing through your veins.

“Pathetically.”

“You ungrateful brat! We’re done tonight. Get upstairs fore I replace you.”

Your entire body tenses and you consider telling him to fuck off, but you can't bring yourself to be that bold. You throw your arms down with a frustrated groan and relax your muscles before pushing him aside and stalking out of the dressing room.

You angrily push the door open and rush out, your heart slamming harshly with anger as you slam the door behind you. You can feel peoples’ eyes on your figure after the loud sound ricochets throughout the backstage area. But you don’t care nor do you bother to turn around and give any of them the time of day. You hurry back upstairs to your apartment, confident that your resting bitch face and clenched fists are ammo enough to keep anyone from bothering you.

As soon as you burst into your apartment and close the door, you feel calmer. You wash your makeup off in the bathroom and change into your pajamas. Then, you call the number for the backstage phone and try to get ahold of Max so that you can apologize. The stage manager refuses to hand the phone over, so you have to hope that he relays your message.

“Look, just tell him that I’m sorry about everything. I can explain it all and I really want to talk to him. Also, can you just tell him that I can’t make it tonight? I’m…not feeling very well and I need to rest. I’ll call him tomorrow.”

After hanging up, you curl into bed and stare at the ceiling, reflecting on your situation. How could this have happened? What the hell was Elvis’ problem, anyway? Was he jealous? That you’re flirting with someone else? Why would he be? Like he said, just because you’re sexually involved doesn’t mean you have to be romantically involved. You don't have to be lovers or even friends.

Your mind turns to thoughts of guilt toward Max. What if your actions get him fired? What if you call tomorrow and he’s just not there? Is he mad at you? Will he ever talk to you again?

The phone suddenly rings and you begrudgingly answer.

“Hello?”

“Miss Y/L/N? This is the front desk. I have a Trixie Carpenter who’s calling for you? She says she tried your number several times earlier today and received no answer so she called the desk instead. Would you like me to patch her through?”

“Oh…uh…” you rub your hand over your face and think about Trixie, how everything in her life has always gone perfectly according to plan. How she’s a beautiful, wealthy, wonderful person and for all of that wonderfulness, you suddenly find yourself despising her and all of her unending luck.

“No," you reply. "Just tell her that I’ve fallen quite ill and don’t have the energy to talk tonight."

You feel accomplished after saying the words until your guilt and shame quickly set in.

“But tell her that I’ll call her back tomorrow," you add.

“Absolutely, miss. I’ll do that," the front desk clerk responds cheerily.

After hanging up, you curl into the fetal position and fade into an empty blackness.

When you wake up the next day, your eyes burn from a combination of intense sunlight and the overhead light in your bedroom. You’d passed out without even getting settled into the bed, your legs strewn all over the mattress with blankets half-falling off your body. You rub the sleep from your eyes and groggily blink awake. When the memories of last night come flooding back to you, your heart sinks and your stomach drops. You rake your fingers through your hair with a deep sigh.

As you try to piece together a game plan for the day, you hear a knock on the door. You shuffle out of bed and pull on your robe and slippers. After tying the robe tightly, you open the door and jump back when you see Jerry standing on the other side.

“Oh, hi,” you say awkwardly.

While you know that his role as Elvis' number one means that Jerry sometimes runs his errands, you've never once seen him outside your door like this. You've never seen anyone outside your door like this. It's usually just a note and never this early. But when you glance at the clock in the kitchen to see that it’s somehow already 4 p.m., your eyes go wide. You shake your head and refocus on Jerry.

“Hey,” Jerry replies, equally as awkwardly. “He, uh, wanted me to hand deliver this one to you in person.”

He extends his hand to give you a package with a letter taped to the top. You quirk an eyebrow and Jerry must have noticed because he continues to explain.

“He felt bad about how things went last night and wanted to apologize.”

“Well then why didn’t he come down here himself and say it to my face?” you ask dryly. Jerry just shrugs.

“I don’t make the rules. I just follow them. I was...sorry to hear that things aren't going so well. I have no idea what's in that package but I hope it's enough to fix things for you."

“Me too, but I'm afraid what I want can't be wrapped. Thanks anyway, Jerry. I’ll give it a look.”

He nods and offers a tight smile before you shut the door. You curl up on the couch and take a deep breath before you open the letter.

Princess,

First of all, I just wanna say I’m sorry for my behavior last night. Upon reflection, I realize that I acted very childishly and wasn’t very respectful of you. I did say that you could date other people and I still stand by that. Maybe now that it’s here in writing, we won’t have to argue about it again!

Anyway, I was hoping we could start over tonight. I know things haven’t been going according to plan and that you haven't been too happy. That’s my fault and I wanna make it up to you by taking you out to dinner. There we can take some time to get to know each other better. Spend some time together. I hope you take me up on it. Meet me downstairs in the hotel lobby at 8 pm.

I know I'm on thin ice as it is but I'd like to make one small request. Wear black, any black outfit you want. And the ring and this little piece I got you here. I hope you like it. And I hope to see you soon, darling.

You gently put the letter down, his lengthy apology tugging at your heartstrings just the tiniest bit. You're also admittedly pleasantly surprised by his offer. Going out to dinner will actually require you to go out, in public, together. And that's something Elvis has been very clearly against. You move toward the box, carefully disassembling it and setting it aside so that you can get into the contents. A small piece of paper rests on top and you grab it to read the handwritten words.

When you walk through that door, I want everybody’s eyes on you. I want everybody to know you’re mine. I don’t want to know that you even existed before this moment. You were born just for me.

Your eyebrows raise. A smile breaks through your lips even though you bite down hard in resistance. You can't help but reread the words over and over again. You almost forget there's more to the package until your eyes drift over to it. You pull apart the wrapping paper and lift out a piece of jewelry. Your breath hitches in your throat and you forget how to breathe. You've been surprised by his gifts before but this? There's no match to what you pull out of this box.

You lift it out, a stiff necklace, and hold it in front of your face. It’s composed entirely of diamonds, square cut and very elegantly and expertly fastened into a thick choker. As you twist and turn it in the light, the diamonds glitter and glisten like sparkling stars. In the middle of the choker are gold-encrusted jewels that spell out two simple letters: EP.

You shakily put the choker down on the table, gently so that you don’t damage it.

Suddenly everything feels too real. Never in your life have you held in your hands something so expensive and beautiful. You could never, ever dream of affording such a thing under normal circumstances. The thought that Elvis can afford to buy this on just any old day and gift it to a woman who, only last night, yelled at him and told him off overwhelms you. The fact that he would is even more unbelievable. You've never been more attuned to the power of wealth.

Your eyes flick back to the letters. EP, of course, for Elvis Presley. The TCB ring was a subtle way to let other potential suitors know that you were taken. But this choker, this…collar is the most obvious and unavoidable way to show every eligible bachelor on earth that you are owned by Elvis Presley.

With a shaky breath, you stand and make your way toward the closet to sort out your outfit. You piece through the dresses that Elvis has bought you so far, sorting through them to find the black ones. Each one you glance at makes your face screw up in dissatisfaction. None of them is the right fit for the occasion. You don't know exactly what you're looking for but it's not one of these.

With a sigh, you turn, about to go to the bathroom for a shower when a flash of blue catches your eye. You step back, grabbing onto the deep royal blue fabric of a dress that you'd bought when you were out shopping on your own years ago. A dress that you chose, that you saved up for, and one of the last pieces in your closet that feels like it really and truthfully belongs to you. You smile as your fingers dance over the fabric. You pull it out.

A long and slow, hot shower is the perfect start to get yourself ready for the evening. After doing your hair and makeup, you get dressed and accessorize. You open your jewelry box and fish out the TCB ring, sliding it onto your finger. You wiggle the finger fondly and then walk into the living room to add the final touch. You check the clock to see that it’s 7:30 now. You're a little ahead of schedule but you won't mind waiting in the lobby for a bit.

As you look at yourself in the mirror by the door, you lift the diamond choker up to your throat. Your fingers gently trace the diamonds. For a few minutes, you fumble behind your neck to try and fasten it but, no matter what you do, it's not happening for you. Out of frustration, you huff and gently fold the choker over itself.

“Shit.”

You grab your purse, momentarily wishing that you hadn’t thrown away that black lingerie, but your go-to matching lacy bra and panties set will have to do for now. You gently hold the choker in your open palm as you make your way downstairs. You mosey through the casino floor toward the lobby, noticing the grandfather clock in the center of the room which flashes 7:45 p.m. exactly. You breathe a sigh of relief now that you're prepared and early. Glancing around, you scan the area for an open seat and instead notice Elvis in a corner with his head bent low toward the Colonel.

You sneak toward them and press yourself back against a marble column, turning your head to try and catch some of their conversation. As you consider their gestures and the expressions on their faces, you figure they're probably fighting about something. You watch sneakily as Elvis smiles, scoffs, and shakes his head. The Colonel is gesticulating very intensely, a little too close to Elvis for comfort.

Surprisingly, your sugar daddy looks like he’s losing the argument so you decide to interrupt them. You straighten your neck and walk toward them. As you get closer, you start to hear them better and their conversation becomes clearer.

“Colonel, all I’m sayin is I know the tour’s gonna be a big hit overseas. Think bout how much snow we could be makin?” Elvis is saying.

“Snow? Snow, my boy?” the Colonel’s grating voice sounds in response. “Think about how much snow we’ll have to spend just to get there. And I’ve already explained to you that security is a major issue, so we have to-”

You clear your throat loudly enough for them both to hear. Elvis and the Colonel's heads snap up in your direction. The Colonel's expression immediately hardens but Elvis' lights up at the sight of you. You offer a tight smile.

"Mr. Presley, it's 8 p.m. sharp," you say, addressing him directly. "I'm sorry to drag you away from the Colonel, but I believe we have an appointment."

"Ah, so it is," Elvis replies, glancing down at his shiny golden watch. "Well, Colonel, I'm afraid I got a prior commitment that I have to get to. We'll have to discuss this a different time."

The Colonel's gaze falls on you and he glares into your eyes before heaving a deep breath. He wheels himself around on his cane and starts to waddle away. Before he ventures out of earshot, he glances over his shoulder at Elvis.

“We will be, eh, continuing the conversation later, my boy.”

You remain silent as you wait for him to leave although you have a few words in mind for him. When he's finally far enough away, you lift your gaze to Elvis'. He tilts his head and his eyes trace up and down your figure displeasingly. You can tell that he's probably taking in the fact that you’re not wearing the color he instructed you to. You take a deep breath. No more weakness, no more submission.

“I told you to wear black,” he says.

“Well, I wanted to wear blue,” you reply. “So I’m wearing blue.”

He looks at you with an expression somewhere between stern and quizzical. A smile cracks across his features, his blue eyes twinkling in the warm light of the lobby. You share the expression.

"Alright, princess. I like you better in blue, anyway. We should get goin or we'll be late."

He holds out his elbow and you take it, winding your arm around his. He smiles down at you as you walk arm-in-arm toward the doors. As you glance over at him, you take a moment to appreciate his outfit. He's wearing a deep brown suit, no undershirt which you appreciate immensely considering you can perfectly see his beautiful chest. His hair is styled perfectly, a few strands falling onto his forehead. Although it's nighttime, he's also donning a pair of sunglasses, probably to hide his identity. Although, you aren't sure how effective they are.

Your mouth pops open when you step out of the hotel. Stretched out in front of you is the most beautiful shiny black limousine you've ever seen in your life. Of course, you've passed them on the street both in LA and in Vegas, but you've never had the pleasure of riding inside of one. Why would you? There's never been an occasion in your life where you've needed to have access to a limo. As you glance over at Elvis with a wide grin, you only smile harder. He's pulled the sunglasses down onto the tip of his nose, holding the frames between his fingers. He winks and reaches for the door.

"My lady," he says, gesturing with a wave of his hand.

You slide your fingers into his outstretched hand and his fingers curl around yours. You drop your gaze and bite your lip, feeling an unusual sensation in your stomach. Butterflies. As you climb into the limo, you realize that this is the first time you've felt them with him. You've experienced a million other sensations with Elvis, but never butterflies.

You're already enjoying your evening much, much more than you normally would if you were just convening in the dressing room for a quickie. He's finally acting the southern gentleman you know he can be. That's all you wanted, to be treated with respect.

He climbs in next to you and the driver takes off toward your destination. Elvis lifts the glasses and turns toward you.

“Y’ever been in one of these things, princess?” he asks and you shake your head.

“Never. Never needed to. But I always wanted to, though.”

"Well, I hope this experience lives up to your dreams."

Silence settles for a few minutes as you stare out the window and watch the neon lights flash by, wondering where you could be zooming off to.

“I’m glad you got my letter," Elvis' voice pulls your attention back to him. You catch his eyes and offer a warm smile.

"I'm glad you wrote it."

"How come you ain’t wearing the necklace I boughtcha?”

You gasp, suddenly remembering its existence. You momentarily panic, patting around your body before reaching for your purse. You reach your hands inside and breathe a sigh of relief when your fingertips grasp onto diamonds. You must have dropped it in there absentmindedly when you decided to save Elvis from the Colonel.

“Oh…sorry, I couldn’t get it fastened by myself. Could you...?” you say, holding it out for him.

"It'd be my pleasure, darlin."

He takes the necklace gently from your grasp and you turn the best you can in the car. You pull your hair out of the way and wait patiently. His fingers drape the necklace around your throat, pulling it tightly against your skin. You gulp against the jewels, your eyes fluttering closed. You breathe tightly when his fingers tickle the skin of your neck and shoulders as he fastens the choker. He tugs on the necklace to tighten it, pulling almost too tight but loose enough that you can still breathe. He secures it into place. His fingers linger on your skin for just a moment until the car rolls to a stop and you pull away.

Someone opens your door but the minute you step out, you’re blinded by the flash of cameras going off in every direction. You squint and hold a hand up to shield your eyes. Elvis has already made his way over to you. His strong arm snakes around your back and pushes you forward even though you can barely see. You follow his lead up the stairs and into the building, the paparazzi shouting behind you.

As soon as you step inside, you breathe a sigh of relief at the silence and calm of the high-quality restaurant you’re now standing in. The hosts all seem to know Elvis and escort you both to a table at the top of a balcony overlooking the rest of the restaurant. There are no other tables set up in the area although you notice some chairs stacked in the corner. You get seated and pick up a menu.

“I really am glad you came tonight, princess. I didn't know for sure that you would,” he says and you glance over at him.

“I’m glad too. And I want to apologize for my behavior, too. I was also being childish and stupid," you remember Jerry's advice to you. "I should be more patient with you and more direct."

He waves his hand dismissively.

“You ain't got nothing to apologize for, sugar. I’m the one who’s been an arrogant ass for the whole of our relationship. But I want that to change,” he says.

Your gaze snaps up to his as his hands slide underneath your palms, grasping your fingers. He gently slides his thumbs over your knuckles with a smile.

“I hope this sets us on the right track," he continues. "And it’ll give us some time to get to know each other.”

“I hope so, too."

The waiter arrives to take your drink orders and just as quickly leaves to fulfill them. As you both settle in to peruse the menus, you glance up at him and smile. His eyebrows are furrowed as he concentrates on the menu. Your fingers absentmindedly reach up to touch the choker on your neck. It's hard to believe but there you are, in a restaurant in plain sight wearing a choker with the letters EP proudly on display for everyone to see.

It hits you that the paparazzi have taken snaps of you in it and that they're probably wondering who you are. What if you see your face on the front of a tabloid in the morning? Oh well, there’s little you can do to avoid it now. You agreed to wear the necklace and, to be perfectly honest, you don’t really want to take it off. The idea that everyone, even complete strangers, can see that you belong to Elvis Presley makes your heart soar with pride.

The waiter delivers your drinks, takes your food orders, and leaves you in silence. As soon as they leave, you place your menu down and lean forward across the table.

"So, Mr. Presley, what would you like to know about me?” you ask.

He takes a deep breath and considers you for a moment before speaking.

“What took ya so long?”

You tilt your head in confusion.

“What? I don’t understand.”

“What took ya so long to say what you wanted? I been waiting for you to say somethin, take an interest in this."

"I...didn't realize you wanted me to. I've never done this before. I just assumed you wanted me to wait for instructions, only do what you asked. I was waiting to be directed or told what to do. I was afraid I'd disappoint you if I did something that you didn't want me to."

"Trust me, princess. Nothin you could do would disappoint me. Cept I do wonder what you plan on doin with that black lingerie I sent you in the first package? I know you still got it."

"How could you possibly know that?" you shake your head with an embarrassed grin.

"I saw it peekin out of your bag one night. Why didn't you ever wear it?"

"I guess I was embarrassed. No one's ever gifted me lingerie before," you say with raised eyebrows, leaving out that you threw them in the trash amidst your rage.

"Hm," he says, rubbing his fingers along his chin. "Sounds like you been with boys, not men."

You can't help but smile as you feel heat creeping into your cheeks. You've certainly never been with someone who knew how to get you all shaken up like this.

"I do wish you was honest with me, though, from the start. Especially considerin how hard I had to fight to get ya here in the first place.”

You chuckle.

"What? Maybe I was just playing hard to get."

"Hard to get? Nah, baby girl, you was playin impossible to get. I thought I's gonna hafta send you a car or somethin."

"Oh god, no!" you both laugh. "Well, I'm glad I came when I did then."

The waiter returns with your food, placing the steaming plates before you. As they explain the dishes, you realize they have a slight accent and a thought pops into your head. Once the waiter has left, you bring it up to Elvis.

“Alright, my turn again. What were you and your manager arguing about?”

His eyes flick up and he stares at you for a moment before responding.

“Nah, it's nothin you should be worryin about.”

“Hey,” you reach out to touch his hand and his body freezes immediately at the feeling of your touch, “that’s part of what I’m here for, to support you. To be an outlet for you, right? Please tell me.”

His sea-blue eyes stare deeply into yours and the corner of his mouth twitches upward. He sighs and shrugs.

“I wanna take my tour internationally. I think the international crowd would really, really like to hear my stuff. We’ve sold millions of international records and I just…I wanna travel. I guess I got to travel to Germany when I did my service but that ain't what I mean. I wanna see places. Ya know, hit the sights, experience other cultures. I just wanna share my music with the world," his eyes are sparkling and you can't help but smile as you watch the passion light him up. His face falls when he utters the next sentence. "But Colonel’s worried about security and safety and all that.”

“Yeah, I overheard that. I also heard him say something about snow? What did he mean?”

“Ah, snow’s the Colonel’s word for money. It's...hard to explain."

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think you should just go for it. Just do it, with or without him. I know for a fact that your show would do wonderfully internationally. I hope you get to see all of those places someday.”

He smiles sweetly and digs into his plate. You continue the conversation, talking about what you’ve been up to in your own lives since you met for the first time at Russwood Park in 1956. Since you both pretty much know what Elvis has been up to, you’re the one who speaks for the majority of the conversation. You most definitely accidentally reveal too much personal information at more than one time during the conversation. As the restaurant starts to clear out in the late evening and you’ve finished your meals and dessert, the conversation turns more intimate. You find yourself a little woozy from the wine that you’ve been drinking and much more touchy than you were when you first arrived. You’re both leaning over to table to be closer to each other, your fingers intertwined as they rest on the table top.

“Can I...also ask why you were so worked up last night? About me making plans with Max, I mean. I did ask you if I could date other people and you said yes.”

“I did. And you can. There’s absolutely no reason that you shouldn’t. I just overreacted, that’s all. I didn’t realize you two were seein each other and I thought maybe he was botherin you or somethin.”

“You weren’t…" you tilt your head coyly, "jealous, were you?”

You stare across the table into his gaze, his bright blue eyes twinkling with amusement. His lids are closed ever so slightly, probably from the relaxation brought on by the entire bottle of wine you’ve shared, the majority being consumed by you. His lips are slightly parted and look extra red in the soft light of the candle flickering in the middle of the table. As you stare at him in this lighting, it once again hits you how handsome he is, how masculine and angular his features are. You gulp. He chuckles quietly and drops his gaze.

"You," he points his fork at you, "asked two questions in a row, darlin. My turn."

You bite your lip and return to your dinner.

"What made you decide to come?"

"What to Vegas?"

"Yeah, what made you finally say yes?"

"Oh," you're taken aback by his question that you, truthfully, don't know the answer to. "I'm not sure, actually. I guess..."

You pause, thinking over the events. Money, of course, but you both know that's not a good enough reason to move your whole life for him. What was it...curiosity? Temptation? You know he wants an answer but your brain is tying itself in knots.

"I really don't know," you finally say, although you can feel that's not quite it. "I'm sorry. I wish I had a better answer for you. But I don't."

He nods, wrapping up his napkin and placing it on the table.

“Well, I think we got our fill tonight? Of food, at least,” he smirks at you and your heart flutters.

“Absolutely, Mr. Presley. Dinner was incredible and the limo and everything…I can’t thank you enough,” you respond.

He stands and holds out his hand for you. You take it and he helps you out of your seat. Surprisingly, you manage to avoid the paparazzi on the way out, although you don't miss Elvis' warm hand on your back as he guides you down the stairs.

“I's thinkin maybe I could show you my room when we get back. I’d sorta like ya to see where I live,” he says once you're securely in the car. You brighten up.

“I’d love that! I think it's really cool to see someone's bedroom. It really shows you who they are on the inside, when no one else is around, you know?"

He chuckles and you wonder what could possibly be in store for you. When you arrive back at the hotel, you repeat the same process of getting out and making your way upstairs to Elvis' room. In the lobby, you veer off toward the elevators but Elvis catches your wrist at the last second and pulls you in the opposite direction.

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“You’ll see.”

He pulls you along into a narrow hallway, probably a passage for the hotel staff. You walk until you reach an elevator at the end of the hall. It looks quite old and not in very good shape but it’s an elevator nonetheless. When it opens, Elvis gestures for you to enter first so you walk into the space and the doors close behind you.

When the elevator doors reopen, you find yourself walking into a secluded hallway, no noises anywhere to be heard. You glance at Elvis and he gestures to the floor in front of you. He leads you toward the penthouse room and smirks at you as he opens the door.

Your eyebrows immediately shoot up as you step into what seems to be the living room. All of the furniture is of the best quality, velvet and marble, manufactured in royal colors like red, blue, and gold. All of the surface tops are shined to perfection and glinting impossibly bright. There are decorations on the walls like gold records, framed photographs, awards, and other objects which look expensive. You laugh in awe as you enter the room further, turning in circles to see everything you possibly can.

“Holy shit…” you mutter to yourself.

“What do you think?” Elvis asks as he closes the door behind him.

He enters the room and stands beside you as you take in everything you’re looking at. Each object in the room screams wealth and power and influence.

“It’s incredible! I’ve never seen anything like it in my life,” you reply, glancing up at the golden chandelier above your head.

“Good," he says. You freeze when his fingers snake around your waist. He leans down, his wet lips tickling your ear as he whispers. "I got somethin even better to show you. Somethin very special, just for you, princess.”

You turn your head just slightly until your cheeks are gently brushing together. Your eyes flutter closed as his warm breath ghosts over your cheeks. Your chest aches with anticipation and you can barely inhale, overcome with temptation.

“Would you like to see it?” he whispers, holding his hand out for you.

Without even opening your eyes, you slide your hand into his. His fingers close around yours and he pulls back. When you finally look at him, you're blessed with his dark, drunk eyes and sexy smirk. He leads you through the majority of the apartment, crossing through several rooms including a second living room and a music room, until you finally arrive in front of a door in his bedroom.

The door is tall but skinny, painted red in contrast to the strikingly dark blue walls in the room. You glance over at him as he lifts a painting on the wall next to the door and retrieves a key from under it. You momentarily wonder what he could possibly be showing you. He glances back at you with a smirk and then holds a finger up to his lips and whispers a quiet “shhh”. You feel your insides flip and your lips part with a heavy breath.

Your eyes drop down to the key and remain on it, unwavering as he clicks the key into the lock, turns it, and then pushes the door open.

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

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lonelyfanboy48 · 9 months ago

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Steven Universe Of The Creek Chapter 19 Perilous Sewage To Lazurite Sewage

Steven placed both of his hands on Craig’s head, looking straight into his eyes. He spent the last two minutes trying to see his eyes turn pink again, after the incident from the Tea Timers’ Club. Luckily, Craig’s eyes did turn pink, catching Steven by surprise along with the others.

“They’ve turned pink again.” Kelsey reacted.

“Okay, just don’t move.” Steven responded. In Craig’s vision, he saw Steven as a monster again. However it felt like he was talking to him, despite what the Crystal Gems did back then. “It had to be my saliva going through his ear.”

“It all makes sense now.” Craig replied.

“Did you give him that when you were at his grandparents house?” Omar asked.

“Yes but I wasn’t in a good mood when he showed me his gem two nights ago.”

As Steven let go of Craig, his pink eyes went away, returning back to normal. “I didn’t think my saliva could affect someone like that. It’s gonna be permanent since it happened to Connie when I helped her with her eyes.” This caused Steven to cross his arms. “There isn’t much more I can do to help.”

Just before Steven looked into his eyes, Craig put on his water shoes with him officially picking the location for Steven. “The good thing is, it’s only happening in my mind and not out in the open.” Craig replied. “But you're right, we have to do something to get rid of it.”

“As if calling Garnet wasn’t enough.”

“I was thinking of how cool it is to have pink eyes but…you won’t see things the same way after drinking pink lemonade.” J.P. commented.

“If you actually drink the straw that I used so…it’s not the lemonade itself.”

“We can figure this out later before it’s too late.” Craig turned around to show Steven the next destination of their activity. “Welcome…to the sewers.” He pointed at the sewers. “This is where the Sewer Queen’s at.”

This caused Steven to smile a bit. “I actually saw her when she and other kids headed to the creek when Bernard gave me a tour in the neighborhood.”

“Not to mention she was with us when…the whole battle you had happened.” Kelsey added.

“I didn’t forget but…it’s still awkward there’s a sewer queen…in the sewers.” Steven looked at the sewer itself.

“It’s just a visit, we won’t do anything inside.” Craig jumped in the river. As his friends also jumped in, Steven slowly stepped into the water. As they walked up to the sewer itself, the pink and blue noodle guards came out like they always do, but with the events that occurred last night, it affected everyone in the sewers more than what Craig, Steven and his friends thinked.

“The sewers are on lockdown at the moment.” The pink noodle guard explained.

“On lockdown?” Craig wondered.

“Shouldn’t there be caution tape if it’s on lockdown?” Omar added.

“It has nothing to do with the water.” The blue noodle guard then walked up to Omar straight in the eye. “It’s what Bluebird can do with the water.”

This caused Steven to catch on, knowing that Aquamarine is dangerous in her fusion with Ruby. “Is it okay if we can go inside? We could work this out.” Steven offered.

“The Sewer Queen did want to meet you after last night’s events.” The pink noodle guard replied. “Luckily enough, the sewer kids don’t view you as the enemy.”

“That’s a relief.”

“But for Bluebird…it may make them scared.” The noodle guards invite them inside the sewer.

When they entered the main area while the throne of the Sewer Queen took place, the sewer kids all over the place were panicking. Craig and Steven saw drawings of Bluebird hanging on the wall, with the kids trying to understand what she can do with her powers, despite not witnessing what The Sewer Queen saw.

The Sewer Queen didn’t sit on her throne due to the sewer kids screaming without fun in their systems. “Craig.” She smiled while noticing Steven. “I’m thankful you’re here. Everyone here has been freaking out after I told them about Bluebird.”

“Yeah, I knew something like this would happen.” Craig said. “I just didn’t think a lockdown would take place.”

“I had no other way to calm everyone down. They refused to leave with a couple going through the pipes for more protection.”

“It seems it may cause a possible war in the eyes of the sewer kids.” Kelsey commented.

“I’ve been telling them there’s no war, but I don’t even know if I’m right.” Scuba chiming in with Frisboy by his side.

“They’re afraid that one flying water…thing could overcome us all.” Frisboy added. “By using water against us.”

“I like the water the way it is here. She would turn the water into something scary!”

Steven tried to respect the sewer kids in their way of having fun, but with his experiences of fighting Bluebird from last night isn’t anything of what they think. However, it did give him an idea to calm them down, even if it’s by telling the truth about Bluebird.

“Sewer Queen.” Steven walked up to the queen and sewer kids. “Allow me to handle the situation. It won’t be much, but it will stop the lockdown.”

The Sewer Queen gave him a chance with a small suggestion. She whispered into Steven’s ear, with him accepting her suggestion as it will show the sewer kids how safe they are. Steven climbed the throne while jumping over the fence where the entrance with two pipes on both sides are at. While looking down on the sewer kids, The Sewer Queen whistled with her hand through her mouth, catching the attention of the sewer kids.

“Everyone, calm down.” She spoked. “I know my story caused a distress signal, but I didn't mean it in that way.” She then pointed at Steven as it caught the attention from the sewer kids. “I want you all to welcome Steven Universe, the warrior who fought Bluebird.”

The Sewer Kids felt relief as they paid attention to Steven. “Thank you Sewer Queen.” Steven smiled. “Now to make this clear about Bluebird, she doesn’t control the water. Including…the sewer water.” He looked at the sewer pipes. “And trust me, I doubt she would ever come here to harm all of you.”

The Sewer Kids slowly smiled after the word came out. He then lifted his shirt up to reveal his gem to everyone. “I don’t control the water, but my powers are still worth protecting the people when needed.” He activated his powers to form a bubble with him inside. “Including me.”

“Wow.” Scuba responded.

“Not what I expected, but protection is important.” The Sewer Queen added.

Steven let go of his powers to get back on topic. “I’m a Crystal Gem along with my friends and family who are Crystal Gems.” Steven went through his pocket to take out his phone. When he reached the photo he’s looking for, he looked at Craig. “Craig! Heads up!” He threw his phone as Craig grabbed it in time.

“Got it!” He raised Steven’s phone up.

“Perfect!” J.P. smiled.

“Show it to the Sewer Kids.” Steven called.

Craig went to the sewers by each pipe and showed them the picture of the Crystal Gem who’s blue. “Her name is Lapis Lazuli.” Steven called. “She actually controls the water, more powerful than you think, but she isn’t like Bluebird.” When Craig showed the picture to more of the sewer kids, Steven continued his speech. “She was mean years ago, but let’s just say she wouldn’t use her powers in a way Bluebird would do.” He then took notice of one of the sewer kids raising their hand. “Yes?”

“If she enjoyed herself in the sewers, do you think she would spend her time with us?” A young girl asked.

Steven wanted to tell the truth but he doesn’t want to hurt the Sewer Kids feelings. “Yes…but she would like it better if we’re all at a river in the creek, or a waterfall of some sort.”

“She likes the outdoors more than the indoors.” Craig filling in.

“Okay.” The Sewer Queen walked up to Craig, looking at the photo itself. “If she ever comes here, we could play a water gun war with her.”

“Trust me.” Steven making an awkward smile. “If she was on her own and playing hard ball, she would come out victorious in less than ten seconds.”

“I would definitely forfeit the moment I saw her powers.” Frisboy commented.

“Nobody can blame you.” Omar replied.

As the Sewer Kids panic mode went down, it pleased the Sewer Queen. She climbed up her throne, sitting down to give the kids her announcement. “Now since that everything is in order thanks to the Bluebird warrior Steven.”

“I would prefer Crystal Gem, but warrior still makes sense.” Steven scratched on the back of his head.

“And so, the lockdown has been lifted!”

The Sewer Kids cheered as The Sewer Queen lifted her pool skimmer net in the air. Just when Craig and his friends cheered, Craig’s eyes turned pink again only this time, she saw the Sewer Queen as Lapis Lazuli, even with the wings. He also witnessed the net being the mirror with Lapis’s gem on the back. Unlike the last time, this wasn’t severe, in fact, he was surprised to witness the Sewer Kids as other Lapises with different hairstyles.

The Sewer Queen got off her throne while walking up to Craig. “I wanted to thank your friend Steven for helping out with my problem.” When she got close to him, Craig looked up in the air, as Lapis looked down in his vision. “Umm…Craig, I’m in front of you?” He did look down but only her net, as he saw his reflection from the mirror.

Steven immediately took notice as he went over the fence and landed on the ground. “I’m so sorry, it mostly happens when I’m around him.” Steven walked next to The Sewer Queen.

“Did you give him eye drops…” She looked at Craig’s eyes. “That made him go blind?”

“Yes.” Kelsey smiled.

“Trust me, if there’s one thing Steven’s bad at is making eye drops of his own.” J.P. wrapping her arm around Craig.

“...Yeah, I didn’t have the best talent of helping people’s eyes.” Steven responded. “But to be fair, it worked only once...on my girlfriend.”

“Okay.” The Sewer Queen smiled. “I just hope it’ll go away.”

“We all can hope.”

Craig and his friends left the sewers as it returned to its normal state. The Sewer Queen offered to give Steven a reward, but she decided to make one before he leaves. As they got out of the sewers, Craig’s pink eyes went away. “What did you see?” Omar asked.

“I saw The Sewer Queen as Lapis Lazuli and she was holding a mirror.” Craig answered.

“Ahh the time I freed her from that.” Steven remembered. “Was there anything else?”

“The Sewer Kids were also like The Sewer Queen, but nothing seriously bad. I don’t even think I can take a break without my eyes turning pink.”

“Hey, look on the bright side.” Steven placed his hand on Craig’s shoulder. “I’m not leaving until you’re back to normal otherwise, you would have those pink eyes forever.”

“Finding the way to get rid of it is what I’m worrying about.”

Then bubbles appeared out of nowhere, catching everyone’s attention. She appeared on the left by the river, as she lifted her pink bubble wand. “I am the champion of feeling and positivity. Foe of bad vibes throughout the galaxy. I am Sparkle Cadet!” She poses with more bubbles coming out of her wand. “And nobody can dull my sparkle.”

When Steven and Craig looked at Sparkle Cadet, they both smiled from her performance. Which gave them the same and right idea. “You thinking what I’m thinking?” Craig turned to Steven.

“Yes.” He responded. “She’s gonna have another hero by her side, saving the galaxy.”

#fanfiction #crossover #steven universe #cartoon crossover #craig of the creek #craig williams #j.p.#kelsey pokoly #omar #the sewer queen #lapis lazuli #cartoon network #steven quartz universe

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commence-screaming · 2 years ago

Text

i can’t believe I haven’t explained to the general public how Bain is an alien. yeah there was that ONE thing I sent AC but that doesn’t count okay 😆

Payday 2 spoilers hahaa

So during the end cutscene, the couple seconds where jacket throws his tape… there’s a weird stone in the background.

It’s written in Kataru! Luckily I know the cipher… though I can’t be bothered to find a higher quality one so wfejvdjd

Okay okay hear me out

Kataru cipher is written from right to left, top to bottom.

BAIN/OURWATCHER/FALLEN

Because this is a tombstone :) if you’re wondering what a Watcher is, it’s explained. ovks had a limited dlc for payday 2 called the “completely overkill pack” and there happened to be a certain mask description for a particular one…

Watchers in the book of Enoch were angels who wanted to be with human women and were punished for that… however we’re not sure if the book of Enoch is canon to payday lore (even though it mentions Nephilim) so I say that Watchers are aliens. Generally. Something very not human.

It makes the meaning of that translation interesting. It gives depth to other weird details that are in the game.

Like in the contact database, Bain says something along the lines of “I am the gatekeeper, or the watchman, if you will.” and “whatever I tell you might be a lie to protect myself. If I told you the truth, you wouldn’t believe me” and if the truth is that Bain is actually the gang’s Watcher, it makes sense.

“I don’t see how it could’ve gone this way, but I’m only human.” I mean, mostly. It’s not technically a lie

Bain is partially human, since he was “born.” He also mentions him having a grandpa who went heisting (big bank stealth) so I would say that the alien stuff is somewhere in his lineage.

He’s very apologetic when a mission fails, by the way. I would speculate that he’s like that because of Hoxton’s arrest but he was like that since the first game. I wonder what he’s trying to make up for :)

All the jokes would have deeper meaning if Bain is an alien of some sort

In the Mega Watcher mask description, it says “they communicate using their minds.” It would fit into how you hear Bain’s voice clearly through even flash bangs, but nobody else’s. There’s actually no official content (that I know of) depicting Bain talking to his crew over earpieces. It’s not like ovks hadn’t modeled earpieces before, look at the guards in the train transport heist! Each time they talk to Bain it’s always over the phone (comic collaboration)

(official Locke and Load comic)

He’s also able to talk to his crew after the EMP bomb goes off in Boiling Point (which took out a whole facility PLUS superhumans)

in that last part he can somehow see what the player is doing as if he has cameras in their masks… except that couldn’t be. Because it shouldn’t be working. If you take the briefcase before Bain asks you to, he has a few different lines like “how did you know I needed that briefcase?” “You read my mind,” and “are you psychic or something?”

and if Bain is a Watcher, these quotes are hilarious. It was right there all along!

“(They) use their large eyes” take a look at the color of the Watcher mask.

Bain’s favorite color is blue. We know it’s true because Crimenet’s color scheme is blue… and Bain’s eyes are blue too. Coincidence? …Maybe. I’m not ruling it out. It would be messed up considering what happens to one of his eyes. My dude got nerfed. and was probably experimented on if what Locke says is anything to go by

“to witness, gather and share information” could they mean the way that the crew can somehow see through walls? How Bain can highlight objectives for you if you can’t find something? Nobody can hide from him.

Bain wears a fleur de lis ring on the pinkie of his right hand. Yes, like the guide of bain

(Something I want to point out, bain is terrible at lying to his team actually. Sooo the detection meter is just future Russian glasses? Yeaahhh sure Bain)

I guess this definitely isn’t mind control or any sort of skill *cough cough* joker *cough* There’s one last thing I want to put down here because it was never explained in canon.

HONESTLY NOT SURE WHAT THIS IS. Could it be the “Watcher of the Star?” is it Bain’s ancestor? or is Bain immortal somehow I don’t know but no normal guy would just have this laying around XD

Bottom line is that if Bain isn’t then he’s definitely SUSPICIOUS. Just putting that out there.

#payday 2 #payday 2 spoilers #bain payday 2 #fic inspiration #suing ovks for emotional damage #because Bain is trying to make up for something (what he is) and it’s because of how he’s lying to people he cares about #duke theorizes that Bain might’ve been in the middle of training to be the elephant’s watcher #I see that as unlikely by the way Bain talks behind the elephant’s back XD #Bain already had his King 🥲#in my fic series Bain makes a whole nanobot excuse as to why they can hear him all the time #it’s totally believable #I’m also rolling from the fact that Dallas just totally— CALLS bain on his IPHONE #who does that 😭#bro is an alien trust me #and it would fit in with payday canon because the dentist is immortal #akan is psychic. jacket is… SOMETHING… and that Dallas necromancy comic is canon. jimmy counts too I say #Bain is also proficient with all weapons AND canonically taught the gang all the skill sets #me: *comes back from hiatus*#*dabs on you*#*leaves for another month*

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skytressmc · 3 years ago

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Ooo, your body praise headcanon for Sun and Moon gave me an idea!

Imagine Sun setting up one of those balloon dart boards, but in the shape of a person (like one of those kindergarten diagrams). Each balloon is placed somewhere you have an insecurity, with the insecurity written on it.

When you throw the dart at the balloon, a bunch of rather large confetti bursts out of it. The confetti is so large because on each slip, Sun and Moon have written the reasons they love what ever you don’t, and why you should love it to!

Sun says: every balloon you pop is another stab at the dragon, who’s guarding your sleeping self-love. He will quite literally tape mini paper swords to the darts and silly evil dragons to the balloons! Because he knows you WILL defeat that dragon! No matter how many ‘stabs’ it takes!

Moon says: imagine each balloon is an old bully, rude comment, or societal norm that caused your insecurities. Now beat the shit outta that balloon. He will seriously encourage you to punch the balloons and pretend your ‘asserting dominance’ over your insecurities. (His analogy isn’t just meant to release anger, he also hopes that when you see yourself popping the balloons with your own hand you’ll start to believe you have the strength to over come your insecurities.)

- ♓️ anon

Omgg so cuttee 😭🥺

You glare at the large poster on the wall. It was a human diagram that was drawn to look like you. You could tell Sun and Moon both drew it. There are little swords and dragons taped on some of the balloons, while others just have an angry face on them.

“This is stupid.”

Sun lets out a loud gasp hearing you.

“Language Starlight!” He scolds, waving his finger at you.

“Sorry, just I don't think this will help me like my ugly body.” You say with a shrug.

“No! No! No! None of that from you! Your body is not ugly. You just need to see how we do! Moon and I think this will help! Just give it a try?”

Sun bends down, his face at your eye level clasping his hands together and giving you his best puppy eyes. You stare at him, trying to ignore their pleading eyes.

Seeing that not just his eyes are working, he makes his lip tremble before letting out a small “Please? For us?”

You groan throwing your hands up in defeat. “Fine!” Sun lets out a cheer as grabs a few darts before handing them out to you. You aren't even sure how he got of hold of these. Though the more you think about it, Moon was probably the one that got them.

“So what? Do I just throw it at the balloons?” You ask.

“Yes! Just like the ones in the Carnival games! If you hit one there's a surprise inside!” They say jumping excitedly in place. You shrug and aim the dart, before giving it a small throw at the poster.

It clunks against it and falls on the floor. Of course, you would miss it, but you weren't trying. As much as you wanted to be excited about this like Sun was, you just couldn't find it in you to do it.

“Aw, you missed! That's ok though! You can try as many times as you need!” Sun offers you another dart. You glance at it before looking up at his grinning face.

“Do I have to?” You sigh.

They don't answer, they just continue to hold the dart to you. You grab it with a sigh and aim again. Trying to hit one of the balloons this time to appease them.

You reel your arm back and throw the dart forward. A loud pop is heard throughout the daycare making you slightly jump at the noise. Sun claps, cheering loudly. You hit an orange balloon that was taped to the arm on the diagram.

“Good job Sunshine! I knew you could do it! Now go claim your prize!”

You step over to the popped balloon, looking for this prize that Sun was so excited about. But you only saw colorful confetti on the floor. You move the colorful paper around before stopping at two large pieces of confetti. One is bright yellow, while the other is dark blue. It reminds you of Sun and Moon.

You pick them up and turn towards Sun holding the confetti. “Is it this?” You ask raising your brow.

His rays spin as he nods “Yes! Yes! Good job!”

You look down at the paper, there was writing on each of them. You hold the yellow one to your face to get a better look.

“I love your arms! They're so soft and warm! The best for hugs! -Sun”

You look up at Sun confused. But he just motions his hands at the other piece of confetti, urging you to keep reading. You hold the blue one to your face to read it.

“I feel so safe in your arms. You make everything bad in the world go away when I'm in them. -Moon”

“Sun, Moon, what is this?” You ask feeling your throat tighten as you look up at them. Sun’s wide grin is replaced with a small smile.

“We wanted to help you love yourself. We wanted you to see how beautiful you are. We just decided to make it a fun little game out of it.” They laugh.

You let yourself smile “Is that what there are dragons and stuff on the balloons?” You ask as you pocket the pieces of confetti.

“Yes! The dragons are the bad guys keeping you from your self-love! You have to defeat them to get them!” Sun grins. “The ones that have angry faces are bullies. Moon says you have to beat them up, I think that's a little too violent. But you know how Moonie is.” Sun says waving his hand rolling his eyes.

They put so much thought into this. Just to make you feel better. You don't know how you got so lucky with them.

“Alright, I'll keep playing.” You say smiling up at him. Sun gives you a wide grin and hands you another dart. You grab it and aim.

Pop!

You hit the thigh of the diagram. You find more confetti in the balloon. Again, there are two larger pieces of confetti, both yellow and blue.

“I love when you wrap your legs around me when hugging you! Just like a little koala! -Sun”

“I love having my head between your thighs ;) -Moon”

You felt your face heat up at Moon’s comment. Sun questions if you're alright but you just pocket the pieces and grab another dart.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

You pop three more balloons, find more pieces of confetti, and read each one before pocketing them with the others in your pants.

You go to grab another to dart from Sun, but you stop when a chime comes through the daycare speakers. Letting you know the lights will go off soon.

“Ah! It's Moon's turn to play with you! I hope you've had fun so far!” Sun asks.

You smile and wrap your arms around Sun’s waist. They giggle and bend down slightly to return your hug. You place a kiss on his cheek, making his rays spin as steam releases from his joints from your affection.

“Thank you so much for this. It means a lot.” You smile.

“Of course Sunshine!” He rubs his pointed nose against yours, giggles leave your mouth at the sensation.

“Have fun with Moonie!”

As soon as those words leave Sun’s mouth, the lights turn off, bringing the whole daycare into darkness.

You close your eyes as you hear the whirrs and clicks coming from their body. A groan leaves their mouth as they finish switching.

You open your eyes and look up at them. Moon’s red-eye lights greet you instead of Sun’s sky blue ones. Moon lets out a purr from his voicebox and nuzzled his faceplate against your head.

“Hi, Moonie.” You greet with a laugh.

“Hello, my Starshine.” He coos, moving his faceplate away from your hair. “Ready to keep playing?”

You look over at the poster and squint. You can barely see it in the dark.

“I don't think throwing darts in the dark is safe Moon,” You say raising a brow. A raspy laugh leaves Moon before he takes hold of your hands and leads you closer to the poster.

“Very smart my dear. But we aren't using darts for this one.” They hum. He takes both of your hands in his, closing your hands to make fists. “You're going to use these.”

You stare at your hands confused “I'm going to punch the balloons?”

“Punch, scratch, bite, whatever you need to do to pop those damn bullies.” He says with a grin as he lets out a curse through their filter.

You eye the balloons with the angry faces on them. So they want you to beat up the balloons huh? You can do that. You move closer and take a swing at one of the balloons, as you hit it, it makes a loud boing! But it doesn't pop.

Moon chuckles “Try a little harder dear. Be a little rough. Let all those bad emotions out.” They say encouraging you.

You nod and turn back to the balloon. You swing your fist at it again, but this time you dig your nails into the rubber. Soon with enough pressure from your nails, the balloon pops in your hand.

“Wonderful job Love. Now find your prizes.” He says.

You kneel on this ground, trying to find the two pieces of confetti. You soon find them after a bit. You squint your eyes trying to make out the writing in the dark.

Moon steps a bit closer to you, letting the red light from his eyes help you read.

“Your smile always brightens my day! -Sun”

“You give us the sweetest kisses. I can never get enough of them. -Moon”

You must have popped the balloon that was taped to the mouth. Moon chuckles and pats your head. “There’s more to pop my dear.”

You nod and stand up pocketing the paper. With Moon standing closer to you, you could see the balloons a little better. You decided to take a swing at the place you hated most. Your stomach.

You let out a grunt as you punch the offending balloon. Digging our nails harder into it than the last one. You let yourself scratch at it till it finally pops. It felt satisfying to do that.

You quickly find the pieces of confetti and read them. Curious about what they wrote.

“I love your tummy so much! It's a perfect pillow for cuddles and you make the cutest noises when I tickle it! -Sun”

You felt yourself smile at Sun’s words. You look at the other piece of confetti.

“I love all of your stretch marks and scars. Each one is like a constellation. I could look and trace them all day if you'd let me. -Moon”

You sniffled and held the confetti close to your chest. No one has said such sweet things about you. It was almost too much. Moon wrapped his arms around you, leaning down and resting their head on your shoulder.

“Are you alright?” They ask, worry laced in his voice.

You nod and quickly wipe your eyes trying to stop any tears from falling. “Y-Yeah just a lot.” You admit.

He places a hand on your cheek, turning your head to face him. You look into his eyes, the lights seemed to dim to a pale red instead of the harsh bright red they usually are.

“We mean every single one of those words my Love. None of them are lies. We think you are more beautiful than any star in the sky.” He murmurs, looking at you fondly.

“I-I know you guys aren't lying. You wouldn't be that cruel. It's just hard to believe.” You sniffed.

Moon presses soft kisses to your cheeks. Purrs leave his voicebox helping you relax in his hold.

“Then we will tell you every day till you believe us. You deserve to love yourself, my dear.” They press a kiss to your nose making you giggle through your tears.

“I know. It's just going to take some time.” You say pressing your forehead against his. They hum closing their eyes.

“We’re here for you. Take all the time you need my Star.”

You smile letting your eyes close as you hold each other, basking in each other’s presence. You truly didn't know how long it would take for you to love yourself as much they both loved you. But you were willing to try for them.

“Thank you both. I love you.”

“We love you too [Y/N]”

#sundrop x reader #moondrop x reader #security breach x reader #♓️ anon #skytress answers

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potatobugxo · 3 years ago

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HI- ILYSM- CAN I GET HUGGY MEETING A HUMAN (GN) THAT ENTERED THE FACTORY TO EXPLORE AND HELPS HEAL HIM WHILE HE'S INJURED AND IT'S JUST PURE HURT COMOFRT AND FLUFF PLEASE-

WELL GOLLY GEE ILY TOO AND YES

you done got my brain working trying to come up for a whole plot for this one also this is WAYYY longer than you probably expected lmao

warnings: mentions of death, blood

-you were a journalist who was going on another "expedition" to uncover the secrets of the Playtime Co. Factory

-the whole story that all the employees disappeared really intrigued you and you wanted to investigate more. you already knew many background things on Playtime Co., as you grew up with some of the toys

-and so upon entering the factory (lets say you get there a little while before the mc does) you try to solve all the puzzles in order to get in. you end up getting the grab-pack to unlock the door that lead to the large room where the huggy wuggy statue was, you knew because you had toured there as a child

-huggy wuggy had always been your favorite because he was just so darn cute and cuddlable

-though your grab-pack ended up breaking after trying to get into one of the innovation areas, and while you jotted down some notes on your exploration so far the statue m o v e d

-when you went back into the room huggy was just straight up gone.

-you're completely terrified until you hear breathing coming from beside you

-you nearly jump out of your pants in fear as you see huggy standing in the corner, slightly crammed against the wall as if he was trying to hide from you

-he was HECKIN ALIVE

-you KNEW something had been up the entire time and you KNEW the employees had disappeared for a reason

-you would have ran if it weren't for huggy's puppy eyes looking down at you, even if his sharp teeth were bared

-he looked... scared? confused? and when you approached him with care you could have sworn you had gone insane

-he was a literal LIVING, BREATHING TOY in front of your very eyes

-nevertheless you try to help him and figure out what exactly happened by listening to a few audio tapes, though since your grab-pack broke you couldn't really get anywhere

-that was until huggy showed you to the vent system... that was how he got around, and since you were so gentle with your words to him (and weren't torturing or experimenting on him) he wanted to help you in return

-he also apparently picked up on the fact that you had no clue where the vents lead, so he just picked you up and carried you through them just like that. and guess what!! you LIKED having a 17 ft tall blue cuddle monster carrying you around!!

-huggy helped you find the areas you couldn't originally get to with you taking notes the whole time

-though you didn't intend on turning any of the notes in... because you wanted to protect huggy, and after listening to the audio tape about "experiment 1006" you finally figured out what happened to him.

-since you were so nice to him huggy just chose you as his human now, he doesn't let you go ANYWHERE in the factory without him. its very endearing having a giant monster friend following you around like a puppy

-and when the ex-employee gets to the factory, huggy goes FULL protective mode over you

-he does everything he can to scare off the intruder but nothing seems to work

-and then when he tries to chase them away, they trick him and he ends up falling deeper into the factory. you find him not long after thankfully, and are mortified to see him wounded and bleeding...

-he's like a hurt animal while you try to patch him up, he's scared and he was only trying to protect you. you reassure him that everything will be ok and that you'll be here for him as you want to help him too, even if it may seem impossible

#poppy playtime #huggy wuggy #huggy wuggy x reader #headcanons

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themaribatpit · 3 years ago

Text

Saturday Challenge: And They Were Roommates

Written by: The Maribat Pit @jasonette-july-event

Prompt: And They Were Roommates

Rated: T

Tim was surprised to learn that MDC Designs had set up shop in Gotham City of all places. He was in dire need of a new suit for the Wayne Gala after the last one was sliced to ribbons. The mysterious designer had worked with Jagged Stone when she was just a teenager. Now he was on his way to her home studio across town.

Tim got out of the car and knocked on the front door of the apartment. "Just a minute!" A young woman's voice called from the other side of the door. She rushed over and opened the door to greet him, on the other side of the door was a petite young woman with dark hair and blue eyes. "Hi, you must be Tim, right?" She asked cheerfully.

"Yeah, are you MDC?" Tim asked, maybe she was their assistant or something.

To his surprise she nodded, "yes, I am. Those are my initials." she explained.

"I was hoping to commission you for a suit," Tim held up the order confirmation.

"Yes, by all means, come in" she said as she opened the door a little wider to let him in. Tim looked around the studio as he let himself in, and he found it hard to believe he was still in Gotham.

There were pink fairy lights hanging on the walls, the furniture was either pastel pink, lilac, and maybe a soft jade green on occasion. There was a small kitchen in the corner of the studio and a few separate rooms off to the side. She gestured to the small podium in the middle of the studio. She had asked Tim to wear simple, basic clothes so that she could take his measurements accurately. Tim took off his shoes and made his way over.

"So, why Gotham?" Tim asked, trying to make some conversation with the young designer taking his measurements. "Not that I'm complaining just that..." he assured her.

"It's fine," she said, "I came here because I thought," Marinette tried to choose her next words carefully. "I thought maybe I could bring some light into Gotham City, it's just so different from what I'm used to growing up." She explained, "Sometimes it's so different that it inspires me... creatively, I mean."

"Braver men have tried to do just that." Tim thought. "So uh, Miss..." Tim stumbled on the young woman's name.

"Just Marinette is fine," she said, smiling up at him. He honestly wasn't expecting her to be so... friendly, especially someone who had been living in Gotham for any length of time.

"Can you finish the suit by the end of the month?" Tim asked.

"Won’t be a problem, I'd say it’ll be done maybe two weeks from now," Marinette told him.

He heard the door open behind him but couldn't turn around and see who it was. Not unless he wanted to annoy the person taking a tape measure to him. They were probably a roommate or someone, this was clearly a studio that someone lived in. Maybe they had a roommate or there was another artist who was living here. That was until Tim heard the other person speak.

"Hey Pixie, need anything while I'm out?" a voice asked, one that was too familiar to Tim. He whipped his head around to find...

"Jason?!"

"Replacement?!"

"What's he doing here?!" The two of them asked in unison.

Marinette gave Jason a confused look, "Wait, he's 'Replacement'?"

"Dude, that's what MDC knows me as?" Tim seemed more annoyed at Jason than at Marinette. "Also what are you doing here?" He asked, while Jason looked through the fridge for something that wasn't either sweet or an expensive wheel of cheese.

"I live here." Jason deadpanned, grabbing a soda can from the fridge.

As Jason was looking through the fridge, Tim whispered to Marinette. “I’d move out if I were you, Jason’s dangerous.”

Just as Tim finishes whispering to Marinette, Jason yells “I can hear you asshole!”

Marinette frowned at Tim’s advice, “I know he’s the Red Hood. We’ve been living together for a while.”

Tim’s eyes widen, he looks back at Jason to see him walking back towards the living room. “You told her?” he cries incredulously.

Jason takes a large gulp of soda before answering, “I kinda came back injured.”

Marinette interrupted. “You still owe me a bolt of silk.”

Jason continued, ignoring Marinette’s interruption. “I kinda bled all over her stuff.” Then taking another swig of his soda.

Tim tentatively asks “So, uh, how did you two become roommates?”

“Rent in Gotham is stupid expensive, it takes two people’s income to pay for rent and utilities.” Marinette huffed.

“Yeah Timmy, not everyone can afford to live the high life at Wayne Manor” Jason said.

“Jason, if I lose customers because of you, this tape measure is going to have a very tight fit around your neck” Marinette hissed, before giving Tim an apologetic smile.

Tim groans and rubs his own forehead, “Okay fine, but what about you Jason? I doubt money was the issue.” he asked.

Jason shrugs, “Do you honestly think anyone would go looking for the Red Hood in a bright pink fashion studio?”

“Point taken” agreed Tim. Marinette resumes measuring him, moving on to measure his waist.

“Whoa Replacement, have you gained weight? No wonder you need a new suit.” joked Jason.

Marinette shot a glare at Jason, “All right that’s enough, don’t you need to be somewhere?”

Jason tosses his empty soda can into the bin all while chuckling at himself, “All right fine, need anything while I’m out?”

Marinette ponders for a second, “Chicken and wine, I’ll make Coq au vin tonight.”

Jason smirks, “Sure I’ll head to the grocery store to and ask for cock and wine” laughing like a maniac before leaving.

Tim releases a breath that he has been holding, “finally some peace and quiet.”

“Sorry, he’s usually out or reading quietly in the corner when other customers are here.” Marinette assured him.

“We’re brothers, trust me this is us being friendly.” He told her.

“Brothers?” Marinette asked, she would have thought that meant they had the same surnames.

“Adopted brothers. ” Tim clarified, Marinette nodded her head as she gathered up her sewing supplies.

“I see” Marinette replied, she looked over at Tim as he stepped down from the podium. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. I’ll have your suit ready in time for the Wayne Gala.” she said as she stowed her supplies away.

BONUS

Bonus 1:

The next time Red Hood and Red Robin run into each other.

Jason: You need to lay off Alfred's baking, or you might need a new Robin suit soon.

Tim: Why? Are you gonna bleed all over this one too?

Bonus 2:

Ladybug climbs in through the window late one night, Jason dramatically flicks on a lamp.

Red Hood: Well well well, it seems you have some explaining to do young lady.

#jasonettejuly2021 #jasonette #maribat #ml x dc

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amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines · 3 years ago

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robin//i feel you're always on my mind

hey! based off this song! i know what you’re thinking. not only is she posting something, but it’s also not a request. shocking, i know. anywayyy, enjoy! and yes, i know i’m late to the party with this song but who cares? k, byeeee ✌

“She, was only seventeen.” Robin sings quietly beside you. Her bottom lip tucked beneath her teeth as she concentrates on not walking on the cracks of the pavement, her blue eye sparkle in the golden light of the sun set and you can’t help but stare at her in awe.

Sometimes it feels like she’s the only thing you ever think about, just her, playing on a loop all day like some sort of scene from a movie. But when the movie ends you want to throw popcorn at the screen and send angry letters to the actors like your mom, because it always ends in heartbreak and misery.

And then just when you think it’s over, it starts again and stupidly you think there’s going to be a different ending, but there never is.

The both of you make your way up the steps and onto the porch, and Robin reluctantly stops singing as she unlocks the door. The late summer has made it unbearably hot for everyone in Hawkins, and you watch as Robin struggles to open the door with sweaty palms.

Your eyes trail from her hands to her exposed shoulder and neck and you follow the freckles that paint her skin and the hair that hands around them in loose curls. Your breath hitches when she looks at you and you force an awkward smile. She smiles back and pushes the door open, leaving it open for you and you watch from the door as she dumps the keys on the table before going to the fridge to get a drink.

“Why are girls in songs always seventeen?” She asks, looking over her shoulder and expecting to find you behind her. However you’re still stood at the door and her eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Are you okay?” She asks.

“I-er. Yeah.” You stutter and quickly close the door.

“Come on.” She grabs your hand and pulls you up the stairs. The sudden contact makes your legs go numb and your heart rate increase and you run your free hand against the cool wall in order to calm yourself down.

For as long as you can remember, you’ve been in love with Robin Buckley. When you ask your parents how they knew they were in love, they know specifically when they fell for the other. Your dad knew when he dropped her off at home after a movie date and your mom knew when he offered her his jacket, despite it being freezing outside.

But when you think about that in regards to Robin, there’s no specific memory or reason as to why you love her, you just do.

“What are we doing?” You manage to say and she looks at you like you’ve grown three heads.

“We’re gonna watch a film dingus.” She replies and stares at you for a few seconds. You can feel your face heat up under her stare and you look around her room for anything that can change the subject.

“Why are you’re curtains closed?”

“You’re just like my mom.” She huffs. “She’s always telling me to open the curtains or I’m going to get scurvy or something. But what if I don’t want to see the outside?”

“I was just asking.” You hold your hands up in defence and she lets out a deep breath.

“Sorry.” She mumbles. “I forgot to open them this morning, but I suppose they’ll be no glare now.” She shrugs and pulls a bunch of tapes out from under her bed. She shuffles across the bedroom floor on her knees, pushing the tapes along as she goes until she stops in front of the TV

“I still can’t believe you have a tv in your room.”

“Perks of my dad owning the new tech shop.” She smirks and you roll your eyes. “Anywayyy, what do you wanna watch. Steve kept some of the new horror movies back for me, so I kind of owe him.”

“Gross.” You cringe and now it’s her turn to roll her eyes.

“Not like that.” She huffs while getting the film ready. “Now sit down.” She waves you off and you look around, unsure of where to sit. “Just sit on the bed Y/n. Are you sure you’re okay. Did Harrington try and flirt with you again because I can talk to him if you want?”

“No, no. I’m good. I think I’m just starting to get a little sick.” You lie.

Well, technically it’s not a lie. The thought of Robin and Steve together does make you feel sick.

“Aww, I’ll have to look after you then.”

“Okay.” You nod and she grins at you. You watch in confusion from her bed as she silently pulls the chair from her vanity and places it beside the bed. However she pays no attention to you, instead she just watches the opening titles of the movie while you try and figure out why she’s acting so weird. “Robin?” You ask and she hums, not taking her eyes away from the TV. “Why aren’t you sitting on the bed?”

“Oh.” She says surprised and looks back at you. “My er, my mom said I need to work on my posture. Apparently slinging ice cream for a summer has fucked it up.” She shrugs. You part your lips to say something else but she quickly turns around and you’re left looking like an awkward fish. “My words, not my moms.” She adds.

“Oh.” You reply quietly and settle back into the frilly headboard.

You watch more of Robin’s head than the film. You watch as she laughs at the funny parts and how she laughs even harder at the murder scenes, and when she moves to stretch half way through, lavender fills your senses making you dizzy.

How is it that someone can have such an effect on someone? How is that she can take up so much space in your head, until eventually you feel like it’s the only thing you’re thinking about. Everything seems to relate back to Robin and to be honest you’re not surprised. She deserves to take up space and if she knew just how much she had captured your heart and your head, then she’d never have to worry about feeling insignificant.

But how is that a feeling so pure and real also feels so wrong. How is it that every time you think of a future with Robin, it makes your heart race for more than one reason? Because you may love Robin, but the world isn’t going to love you for that, and that would be made so much worse if she didn’t love you back. At least with her by your side you could face it.

Yet sometimes, when you catch yourself staring at her, you’re sure she’s staring back at you.

“Scoot over.” She says, appearing by your side almost as if by magic and you jump slightly before quickly moving until your back is against the wall.

She switches the light off before lying beside you and you feel yourself panic.

“What about your posture?” You tease, trying to calm yourself down.

“That’s a problem for older me to deal with.” She shrugs making you giggle.

You lie down beside her, and look her in her eyes.

“That’s okay. I’ll look after you.” You smile and she rolls her eyes at you.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” You reply. Silence fills the room, but you’re thoughts are practically screaming. You are so close to her right now, you could reach out and touch her hair...god you want to touch her hair, and her face and her lips and basically everything.

Your mouth becomes dry as you stare into her eyes, and her lips part as if she’s about to say something, but you quickly interrupt her before she has a chance to say anything.

You don’t know why, you’ve hidden it for as long as you can remember, what’s a lifetime more, but right now, being this close to her, this intimate, you need to know so you can force yourself to get over her.

“Do you think Steve is cute?” Your voice is barely above a whisper and if she weren’t so close she wouldn’t have heard it. But she did, and she heard how sad and scared you sounded when you asked.

“I’m really not that into guys.” She replies, also whispering as if she’s scared to say it out loud. She’s told one other person and that was when they were both high. But she’s stone cold sober and she’s just seen you’re entire friendship disappear in front of her eyes.

All of the memories and the days she’s spent yearning for you when you haven’t been there. All the stolen looks and excuses to get closer to you because she just needs to feel your skin against hers.

She looks down at the floral bedsheet and scratches against the patters, hoping and praying that you’ll say or do something so she knows how you feel about her. If those feelings have changed or if you still love her the way you always have, the way she really has no idea about.

Your lips part at her answer and you force yourself to look at her, propping yourself up on your elbow so you’re above her slightly. She rolls onto her back and forces herself to look at you and she forgets how to breathe.

Nervously she tucks your fallen hair behind your ear, and you cup her cheek. The two of you move slowly towards each other, your heartbeat in your head and a bright blush on Robin’s cheeks, and then your lips touch and it’s just...magic.

She kisses you more and more, pulling you closer and closer to her until you’re not entirely sure you’re separate beings anymore, but neither of you want to be.

The film is long abandoned, but the next time you watch it, you’re both sharing the bed.

support my writing! if you want!

#robin #robin x reader #robin x you #robin imagine #robin x y/n #stranger things #stranger things imagine #robin buckley #robin buckley imagine #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x y/n

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teenyweenynightghost · 3 years ago

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As lucky as the rainbow

A/n: Im sorry. Also. Special dedication to the love of my life, @cantaraiilmionome , who let me write this fic

Warnings: Smut

Word Count: 1.7K

Pairing: Vic X Fem!Reader

Taglist: @fuckim-so-gay @ginny-lily @messyhairday-me @cheese-toastie-11 @wannabemarlenabutiscoraline @simp-per-ethan @maneskinrollercoaster @juststalking @superchrystaldrug @immrbrightsideeee @shehaddreamstoo @tiaamberxx @victoriadeangeliswifey @bidet-and-legolas @makapaka11

My heartbeat was wild and mostly erupting from my chest as the whole world around me seemed to quiet down. The mesh shirt I was wearing was already crumpled from all the times I had fiddled with it nervously. To be honest, could anyone really blame me? I have been obsessed with Måneskin for ages, and I finally get to see them live. A small, really pesky part of my brain kept bugging me. They would have no reason to like or notice you; why are you even here? Well, that definitely did not help the anxious feeling growing in my stomach.

Suddenly, the crowd erupted in cheers as four rock stars appeared on the stage.

And oh god what they were wearing. A certain blonde caught my attention, one who I was more than familiar with. Victoria strutted on the stage, her bass strap wrapped around her, as a small corset did nothing to cover her. Two black stripes of tape covered each of her boobs and she looked celestial. It was unfair to everyone else! How could she just look like that!?

“Is everyone ready?” Damiano’s strong voice sounded out of the speakers, earning an excited cheer from everyone.

As they started playing, I realised I was no longer anxious. Moving from side to side and jumping along with them, It felt as If the world stopped temporarily just for me to enjoy this moment. It was truly heaven, and their magnetic presence made it infinitely better.

“Now, for a fan favorite…” Damiano spoke into the mic, soon interrupted by the all too familiar notes of For Your Love. Oh god.

I couldn’t decide who to pay attention to; Ethan’s godly form playing the drums in a way I wished he would play my ass, Thomas’ talented fingers strumming the guitar chords, Damiano fucking the stage while singing or-

Oh.

I was one of the lucky ones who got to sit up front. So my view of Victoria was truly a dream come true. Her eyes were closed as she thrusted into the air, her hips moving with precision and skill, as she moved her head backwards in rhythm with the song. Two of her fingers were plucking the chords, clouding my mind with thoughts of what else she could do with them.

The whole song became a vivid fantasy for me, as I kept watching Victoria play, entranced by her sensuality. The song sadly came to a stop, and Damiano started speaking again. My lovely brain, however, could only gaze at Victoria, her wonderful top and fingers.

As If on cue, she knelt down right at the edge of the stage, and winked at me. Wait, she did what? My brain stopped functioning as I kept staring at her, eyes comically wide and mouth hanging open.

She smirked at my reaction, and motioned for me to come closer with her finger. A bodyguard came and opened the barrier, as I made my way through.

I was right in front of the stage, looking in her icy blue eyes. She leaned down and cupped my cheek, shaking it softly.

“Wanna stay here, cucciola?” She asked, a sultry smile appearing on her face. I nodded eagerly, causing her to laugh, before returning to her band.

The rest of the concert managed to make me so wet I was convinced my knees would give in the second I would try to walk. Between Victoria grinding on the floor right in front of me, making sure to stare right in my eyes, Damiano jumping in the crowd and grabbing Thomas, as well as Ethan being an overall god-like presence.

It was, however, over, as soon as it started. My face fell as they all waved their goodbyes to the crowd, and I turned around, preparing to leave, but was soon interrupted by a guard.

“Miss De Angelis said that she would like you to go backstage.”

That was the second time the girl’s actions shocked me. I certainly hoped it wouldn’t be the last as I followed the guard to the back.

“Ah, there you are, cucciola!” Her raspy voice exclaimed, as she headed towards me and grabbed my waist, leading me towards a changing room before I could even mutter a word.

“You, I me- mean ...Why? Like… I just thi-I” Damn it, where was my wittiness when I needed it? If I wasn’t already blushing, I probably looked like a sweaty tomato right now.

“Oh darling, I suggest you figure out how to talk, so I’ll know how to please you later.” She murmured in my ear, my knees almost giving up at her words.

“Oh god, umm, I- hi.” I managed to let out. I’m so glad I could ramble about crystals for 3 hours but when It comes to basic greetings my mind just dips. Lovely.

“We have about 15 minutes before we need to leave.” She said, grabbing my body and pulling me right against her, softly nibbling on my neck.

“Considering the way you fucked the stage earlier, I think even 5 would suffice.” Ah yes, my brain was back. Temporarily, though, because Victoria’s hungry lips smashed into mine in a fraction of a second, quickly turning me around so I would be prompted against the wall.

We moved in sync as she sucked every breath out of me and explored my mouth with her tongue. She bit my lip hard, and licked the reddish spot which appeared, before moving onto my neck.

She sucked on every inch of my skin, leaving deep red marks in her wake, which would definitely be an interesting subject of discussion once I got home. I couldn’t help but let out the most pathetic whines, which only seemed to turn Victoria on more.

“So fucking desperate puppy. All I do is dance a little on stage and you’re already willing to be on your knees for me.” She purred right against my breast, earning a deep moan from my treacherous mouth,

“What can I say, I like being a good girl.”

Her mouth bit into the soft skin which was now exposed, as my poor shirt was laying on the floor, discarded seconds ago. I whimpered and bucked my hips into the air, whining even more at the realisation that there was nothing there.

“Please..” I begged, as she kept kissing and licking around my hardened buds, heating me up even more.

“Take your pants off, then” She instructed, and I did it in a heartbeat, the piece of clothing joining my shirt.

The last thing I saw was the blonde’s head lower , before her tongue finally gave me what I wanted. She swiped it deeply inside of me, humming at the liquids pouring from me. Moving to my clit, she started circling around it as one of her long fingers thrusted deep inside of me.

“Fuck… Victoria…”

She added another finger and quickened her pace, as I rapidly approached my edge. God, no one did it as well as her. She was getting rougher by the second, biting at my thighs and sucking hardly, until she heard my breath catch, before I erupted in a mess of loud moans and screams.

I came hard on her hand as she guided me down to the ground, licking the tears falling from my eyes.

“You really do like being a good girl.” She whispered, cupping my cheek and pressing a soft kiss on my puffy lips.

“Oh I can be bad too.” I smirked, watching as her eyes darkened.”

“How about you return to the hotel with me, and we can explore that talent too…”

***

More than half an hour had passed, and I was sitting in an Uber right next to Victoria. While the band packed up their stuff, I hung out on the stage, eating a popsicle Damiano had given me.

“Do you have to be anywhere early tomorrow?” Victoria’s voice interrupted my thoughts, softly grazing her fingers over my thighs.

“Like I wouldn’t cancel them for you.” I responded, earning a soft chuckle from her.

“Excellent. How about we talk a little then, hmm?” She asked, pulling me closer to her.

“About what?” I asked, clearly thinking of innocent topics.

“Which was your favourite part about how I fucked you backstage.”

Oh. My. God. At this point, my brain had stopped working so many times, I probably had approximately 2 brain cells left. And damn, I answered in a corresponding fashion.

“I must say I enjoyed the talking.”

Victoria laughed, a devilish grin forming on her face, as I bet her mind filled with the dirtiest ideas.

“I’ll take your word for it. I’ll make sure we’ll do just enough talking.”

“Wait no- You know, I really liked the cum part too.” I tried to save myself, because let’s be honest, If this woman was anything, it was a tease.

“Considering how loud you were moaning, I bet you were.” She purred again, dragging her fingers further up my thighs.

“Tell me, what did you fantasise about most while watching me play?”

My mind went blank, but not really, as the thought of her grinding on my face while practicing the bass made its way into my head. God, I was royally fucked.

“Tell me, pet.” She snarled against my neck, grabbing it roughly and bending me over.

Her hand wandered down to my ass, grabbing it roughly before slithering back around to my stomach, and pulling me up again.

“Practicing your bass on my face.” I moaned out, red and embarrassed.

“A lovely imagination you have. I’ll make sure to consult it more often.”

“That won’t work. It seems to go blank around you.”

Victoria smirked at my confession and pressed me down onto her lap, slowly working her way under my shirt.

“I really like this. Where did you get it?”

“My mom.”

“She wears this?”

Fuck. “Oh, you meant the shirt?”

Scoffing and rolling her eyes, she pulled the material up, and pressed a wet kiss to both of my breasts. Oh god, this girl would kill me.

“My special thanks to her. And also my apologies, because I’ll fuck you till you scream and cry tonight.”

#victoria de angelis #vic x reader #maneskin fic #maneskin #ethan torchio #damiano david #thomas raggi #this was fun #smut

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