#and i got 'fruit' jelly for my second drink | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

marblemoovt · 7 months ago

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Tail Training

MASTERLIST

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Fluff, A sprinkle of angst, Mentions/depictions of anxiety and depression. Anything else is in the tags <3

SUMMARY:

At a party, Whis notices that you have noticeably improved your bad habits and offers to train you. Much to your surprise, Whis suggests that you train your tail to eliminate it as a weakness. Will you be able to handle it when he grabs your tail?

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“This is your first session. I thought some one-on-one training would be more appropriate,” Whis answers, still tugging me by the hand. “I want to start first with a weakness of yours—well, most Saiyans.”

We stop walking, and I stare at our hands still clasped together. When is he going to let go? “And what would that be?” I ask, trying to read his expression.

His violet eyes gleam with amusement, and he gestures with his head. “The appendage wagging behind you, your tail.”

I glance over my shoulder. “What’s my tail got to do with training? Am I going to learn to smack someone into submission with it?” My tail straightens and cracks down like a whip.

NOTE:

Here is another Whis fic! This was another commission. I'm not sure when you guys will see the next one. I was told this is meant to be a slow burn, so expect it to take a while before the relationship is official.

Happy Reading! ヾ(•ω•`)o

It’s been a few weeks since Whis visited my house. Thanks to him, I'm motivated to take better care of myself. Even now, at this party, the first thing he does when he sees me is hand me a glass of water and steer me towards the snack table.

I raise the drink to my lips, hiding a smile. As Whis fills his plate with various snacks and pastries, I nod along and answer any questions.

“So this delightful morsel is called a ‘donut’?” Whis inspects the sugarcoated ball of fried dough.

“Yes, there are various toppings and fillings. You can put pretty much whatever you want on a donut,” I say, flinching when he whirls around and leans closer.

Whis looks at me with sparkling eyes, his skin flushed. “Anything? Truly?’ I nod in response, and he gasps. “Then what modifications have been applied to this one?”

“Um,” I look at the powdered sugar and red hole, “I think that’s just a jelly donut.”

“Fascinating. There are so many uses for pulverized fruit.” Whis pops the pastry into his mouth and moans. “Oooh, this is absolutely amazing!”

He continues to stuff more into his mouth until his cheeks puff. I have to look away to stop myself from laughing. Before I know it, I’m holding a plate of snacks and a new glass of water. Whis said he didn’t want to be the only one eating, and the attention felt nice. He remains at my side, refilling my plate when he notices it’s empty, and only leaves when Beerus calls for him.

I snap the last cookie from my plate between my teeth. The sudden silence feels too empty. I feel almost… disappointed? I glance across the room to see Whis introduce Beerus to donuts, smiling as the pair devour entire trays. With a full stomach, I can at least focus on hanging out with my friends. I make my rounds to greet everyone, stopping occasionally to talk.

During one of these conversations, my palms grow clammy, and I start to second-guess myself. Am I entertaining enough? I’m not…boring to talk to, right? My grip tightens around my cup by a fraction, and I down the rest of the drink, hoping it dislodges the lump in my throat.

A few pairs of eyes stare at me, and I realize they’re all waiting for me to respond. How long were they waiting—did they think I was ignoring them? I lick my dry lips, unable to think of what to say, too embarrassed to admit I didn’t hear the tail-end of the conversation.

“What were you all discussing?” Whis butts in, resting his hand on the small of my back. He rubs small circles into my skin, and the tension melts from my body. Someone catches Whis up, and I flash him a grateful smile. ‘You’re alright,’ he mouths to me, squeezing my waist gently. I nod, flushing the negative thoughts from my mind and focusing on the warmth of his hand.

I begin losing track of the conversation, paying more attention to how I’d rather be at home than socialize for another minute. People start noticing that I’m quieter than usual but anyone who confronts me about it receives a snarky remark. This discourages the rest from trying.

“Are you alright?” Whis walks up to me, taking a bite of another donut. He must really like those.

“Peachy,” I say, clenching my teeth together.

Whis hums, and I bristle under his observing stare. “I feel suffocated after spending hours surrounded by large crowds. Would you care to join me on a walk?” he offers his arm to me.

I chew on my bottom lip and glance around. The chatter and laughter in the background tires me, not to mention the loud thrum of music that rumbles through my bones. It feels like someone took my brain and scrambled it in a frying pan. A break. A break sounds nice.

I accept his offer and link our arms together. He guides me outside to a quiet spot in a garden. There’s a bench by a stone walkway that circles a pond. Strings of fairy lights illuminate the area in a soft glow.

The crisp night air fills my lungs and refreshes my mind. We sit in silence as I regather my thoughts. “Thank you,” I say, staring at the lilypads in the water.

“I should be thanking you,” Whis chuckles. “Spending the night in such lovely company, I couldn’t ask for more.”

Our shoulders brush together, but his body heat is welcome. His white hair glows against his blue skin like moonlight cast on rippling waves. The warmth in his violet eyes makes my stomach squirm. Whis must think I’m cold because he wraps his arm around me and pulls us closer together.

“I thought I was getting better, but it was hard to keep talking after a certain point.” I sigh and lean against Whis, reflecting on the past few hours and every conversation I was a part of.

Whis pats my head and smiles. His eyes look soft almost, a tenderness I don’t usually see them hold. I ignore the flutter in my chest and stare at my lap instead, twiddling with my fingers. “I think your progress is remarkable. You’ve improved. Slowly but surely, you’ve gotten better,” Whis says.

“You think so?”

Whis laughs. “Yes. Compared to a few weeks ago, you’re much more relaxed, and when I tease you, you fight back now.”

A smile tugs my lips. “Yeah, you better watch your back.” I bump our shoulders together, but my confidence wavers at his wide grin.

“Excellent! Why don’t you train under me as well?” He looks at me expectantly, and I can already tell he won’t take no for an answer.

I blink and point a finger at myself. “You want me,” I slowly turn my hand and poke his chest, “to be trained by you?”

Whis nods. “Yes. It will be helpful in your work as a time patroller.” He grabs my hand and lifts my finger to point at his face. “So leave everything to me!”

I tilt my head, staring at his hand, which still holds mine. I’m glad he seems as comfortable with me as I am with him.

I sigh but can’t stop the smile from forming on my face. “Pft. Ok, why not,” I say, chuckling at how he lights up at my answer.

We continue chatting, but despite my mind being more alert than ever, my body demands rest. Lead weights attach to my eyelids, and my head droops now and then before snapping up as I regain consciousness. Whis walks me home, promising to wake me up on time for our training session.

I must be exhausted because I barely register the extra body in my bed, falling asleep to Whis’s comforting scent.

Other than waking up at the crack of dawn, the morning goes by without a hitch. Whis makes me breakfast, insisting I don’t leave a crumb behind lest it hurt his feelings.

Afterwards, Whis leads me to the training grounds, where we meet Goku and Vegeta. He provides them with instructions before guiding me to an unused section.

“You’re not training all of us together?” I ask, craning my head to see the two Saiyans spar. My eyes try to keep up with the blurry motions, but ping-ponging back and forth between them gives me a headache.

We stop walking, and I stare at our hands still clasped together. When is he going to let go? “And what would that be?” I ask, trying to read his expression.

His violet eyes gleam with amusement, and he gestures with his head. “The appendage wagging behind you, your tail.”

I glance over my shoulder. “What’s my tail got to do with training? Am I going to learn to smack someone into submission with it?” My tail straightens and cracks down like a whip.

Whis chuckles and shakes his head. “I heard squeezing a Saiyan’s tail can cause them to lose their strength entirely. One wrong move, and you’re completely paralyzed in battle. Is that correct?” His lips purse as if he’s impatient to reveal the answer.

“No, where’d you hear that nonse—Eek!” I shriek, feeling a jerk on my tail. My entire body stiffens, and every muscle refuses to listen to me. Whis lets go, and I attempt to burn a hole through his head with my glare.

He flashes a bashful smile, a light pink dusting his cheeks. “Sorry, sorry. What better way to test that theory than to conduct a practical test?”

I huff, the blood still simmering in my veins. “Okay, so what if it is true? I’ve lasted this long with it,” I say, smoothing out the fur. “That’s something many Saiyans can’t claim, especially not after everything I've been through.”

Whis nods, squeezing my hand. “The loss of your tail would be a shame. The world would lose the fluffiest tail I’ve had the pleasure of seeing,” he sighs and stares forlornly behind me.

Did he compliment my tail? I wag the appendage behind me, stifling my laughter at how his eyes follow its every move. Is my tail that interesting? “What do you suggest I do about it?” I say.

Whis tilts his head and raises his brows. “We must desensitize you of course. Your tail must learn to endure being touched to strengthen its tolerance,” he says as if the solution is obvious.

I tug my hand free from his grasp and cross my arms.“You just want an excuse to touch my tail.”

Whis brings a hand up to his chest and gasps. “I am astounded by your accusations. I am merely helping you to become stronger,” he says.

I narrow my eyes at him, but he remains unphased. In fact, he looks happier than before. “Alright, fine,” I relent, rolling my eyes at his burst of energy.

“Wonderful! Have a seat on these boulders. I wouldn’t want you to injure yourself.” He pats the flat surface of one of the rocks, rocking on the heels of his feet.

I sit, flicking my tail nervously. “Just so we’re clear, this is only for training purposes. I don’t want you getting any strange ideas.” It’s not like I never considered this option before, but touching a Saiyan's tail always felt intimate to me. How could I ask just anyone to do it?

Whis nods. “Crystal clear. Now, let’s start with something easy and increase the intensity slowly.” He gently pets my tail, stroking the soft fur. “How does that feel?” he asks, peering at my face.

I struggle to keep my expression neutral, fighting the muscle spasms. “Doesn’t bother me at all,” I say.

Whis raises a brow, humming in thought. “Really? Looks like I need to take it to the next level then.” His eyes have a mischievous twinkle as he applies more pressure to his touch.

“Hng.” I bite my lip to prevent any more noises from leaking. A familiar heat returns to my cheeks, and I can feel myself start to sweat.

Whis stares at me with wide eyes, and his mouth stretches into a grin. “What was that? Starting to feel a little weak, are we?” He leans close, almost enough that I can feel his breath on my ear.

I refuse to look at him, gritting my teeth. “Not at all. I can handle more than this,” I say, despite knowing that I’m already near my limit.

“If you say so. Then what about now?” Whis grabs my tail, holding it firmly in his hand.

“I-I…” My entire body freezes up again, and only static fills my brain. All my senses are on overload like every nerve is crackling with electricity.

Whis observes me in silence, and his brows knit together. “Are you sure this isn’t affecting you?” he asks, concern lacing his tone.

“....”

He immediately releases my tail. “Please don’t hesitate to tell me to stop. Your comfort comes first. I want you to enjoy this, not hate it,” he says.

I suck in a breath, trying to calm my frazzled nerves. I wet my dry lips with my tongue and mull over my thoughts, figuring out how to word my sentence. “I… I don’t mind it so much if it’s you.” I sneak a glance at Whis, who’s staring at the ground. The tips of his ears are pink, and he refuses to meet my eyes until they return to their usual colour.

Whis stands up and paces back and forth. “Shall we take a break? You’re looking a little winded. Perhaps a cold drink and a wet towel would help?” he says, offering his hand to me.

I shake my head and close his hand, pushing it back. “I’ll be fine. I just need a minute,” I say.

Whis frowns and stares at his clenched fist. Is he upset I didn’t want to take a break? His posture straightens, and his usual smile is back. “Why don’t we make this a regular occurrence? We can repeat this session until you’ve become immune,” he says.

I purse my lips. “I guess that wouldn’t be so bad. It would be a great help if I didn’t have to worry about my tail while working.” I reflect on my career. I must have been lucky not to encounter someone taking advantage of this weakness, but it would only be a matter of time until I did.

Whis claps his hands together, bouncing on the spot. “Excellent. Same time tomorrow, then?” He looks at me with puppy-dog eyes, and I forget my outrage momentarily. But then I remember how sensitive my tail felt while he was ‘training’ me and my pride snapped me back to reality.

“What?! I’m not doing this every day!”

“I’m only joking,” Whis chuckles, but then he pauses, and his smile widens. “Though if you wanted to…” He leans forward, and I shove his face back to create some distance.

“No. Maybe once or twice a week, and in return, I want you to cook me breakfast those days,” I say. There’s no way I would let him touch my tail for free, training or not. I may not completely dislike the thought of him seeing me in such a vulnerable state, but it’s only fair I receive something in turn.

Whis sits beside me again. He rests his elbow on his thigh, propping his head up with a hand. “You do realize that I’m not at a disadvantage? I get to pet your tail weekly and provide you with my cooking,” he says, smiling at me. His confident smirk irks me. My tail thumps against the rocks, and I stop it when I notice it only amuses him further.

“Shut up. I’m the one making the demands.” I cross my arms and frown, still sweating from the training session. I tug at my shirt collar and shudder as the air hits my damp skin. From far away, it looks like Whis and I have wrapped up an intense physical training session, but the truth is too embarrassing for me to admit.

Whis grins, and there’s that knowing look in his eyes again, as if he can see right through me. “Very well. On the days we train, I shall make you breakfast in exchange for the honour of touching your fluffiness.” His hand reaches out to my tail, but Whis recoils almost immediately. He stands up and pats my head, praising me for my hard work. “I can’t wait to see you at our next session. In the meantime, do take care of yourself. You’ve been doing an excellent job, and I wish to continue seeing you in good health.”

And he leaves me there, still flushed and dazed. My tail tingles from his lingering warmth, and I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like for him to pet it again.

A few weeks go by quicker than expected, and I wake up to Whis cooking in my kitchen. He makes me a sandwich filled with eggs, bacon, lettuce, and tomatoes. As I munch on the food at the dining table, he watches with his hands propping up his chin. He smiles at every move I make, and I become aware of my tail swishing.

“I would say you’ve built enough tolerance. We can shift our focus to other areas,” Whis says, lifting a napkin to wipe my lips. His hand lingers before he pulls away and crumples the tissue into a ball, flashing me a smile.

I nod. “Thank you. My tail feels a lot stronger.” I glance over my shoulder, admiring the muscle I’ve gained.

Whis’s eyes remain fixed on my tail. “Yes, it appears more voluminous than before,” he says, tapping his fingers against the table.

I can’t help but laugh and bring my tail closer to him. “You can touch it if you want. Just let me know in advance and I’ll let you pet it a little,” I say. “Consider it an exclusive benefit for helping.”

Whis reaches over and strokes the fur, eyes gleaming. “Marvelous,” he whispers in a breathless tone. Not once does he grab it, only touching my tail with gentle pets. His cheeks flush a light pink as he beams at me. “Thank you,” he says.

I coil my tail around his wrist and hand. “You can touch me more. I’m not as sensitive now.”

“Pardon?” Whis stares at me with wide eyes. His skin almost looks purple and his hand starts to feel clammy against my tail.

I hope he’s not getting sick. Can angels even catch illnesses? “My tail. You’re always so intrigued by it. Thanks to the training I can even handle a few harsh tugs now,” I say.

Whis blinks owlishly before nodding and sinking bonelessly into his seat. “Right—of course. I’m honoured to be granted such a privilege.”

Maybe training three Saiyans is taking a toll on him? Come to think of it, I haven’t done much else to show my gratitude. “Do you want to stay for lunch?” I ask.

Whis sits up straight and grins. “I would love to.”

“Great!” I unwrap my tail and stand up, heading to the kitchen. “I’ll make something you haven’t had yet.”

Whis follows close behind, and despite his persistent questions, I refuse to answer any of them, laughing at his sulking figure.

END NOTE:

When I tell you I gasped when that last misunderstanding popped into my brain, I was shook

I'll see you guys at my next hyperfixation! (。・∀・)ノ

Taglist: @lovecats123451

#whis x reader #whis dbs #dragon ball x reader #dragon ball #dragon ball super #commission #no y/n #gender neutral reader #slow burn #fluff #slight angst

96 notes · View notes

wouldntyou-liketoknow · 1 year ago

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Day 6: Decapitation

(Disclaimer: none of the characters in this story belong to me. Janus, Remus, and any other mentioned Sides are the property of Thomas Sanders)

(Trigger Warnings: blades, slight physical violence, body horror, blood, acidic chemicals, skin-melting, snakes, slight mentions of food/drink, strong language. Please let me know if I missed anything.)

Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5 Day 7 Day 8 Day 9 Day 10 Day 11 Day 12 Day 13

As fluid as the Mind Palace typically was, two things always remained constant.

1. Tampering with Logan’s jars of Crofters in any way, shape, or form would result in truly devastating consequences.

2. Out of all the Sides, Janus was the best at corralling Remus. (Well, Logan was somewhat a close second, considering the information above. The Jam And/or Jelly Incident of 2019 had been the very first case of Remus actually learning his lesson.)

This was one of many things that Janus got to be smug about. . .as well as one of few things that he could be genuine about. Sure, Remus grated his nerves like no other at least sixty-nine percent of the time, but he’d had more than enough time to make the friendship between them strong and worthwhile and real. Hell, by now Janus would potentially wager that he knew Remus better than Remus knew himself.

Potentially.

It was now Autumn both inside and outside of Thomas’ brain, which meant Spooky SeasonTM was officially upon the Sides.

Now, while all the Sides appreciated Spooky SeasonTM, none of them could appreciate it quite like Remus. Mainly because this particular month gave him an actual excuse to take his horrific shenanigans and, on a scale from one to ten, crank them all the way up to OH MY GOD WHAT IS THAT THING WHY DOES IT HAVE EYES WHERE THE MOUTH SHOULD BE AND MOUTHS WHERE THE EYES SHOULD BE—?!

Janus had been working in his garden (the secondary space off of his bedroom), making sure the pumpkins he’d been growing were good and ripe. There were twelve large gourds in this year’s harvest: enough for each Side to carve two of their own jack-o-lanterns. He’d also raised a few smaller-scale pumpkins that would meet their fates as a pie, a loaf of bread, and a batch of cookies.

He still had his ulterior motives, mind you. He figured this gesture would keep everyone busy for a while so he could focus on some dreadfully cunning schemes. . .plus enjoy some wine and binge his Addams Family collection without disturbance.

(As clever and devious as Janus was, this idea that a holiday tradition somehow wouldn’t end in chaos proved that while he did hold many of the brain cells in this operation, his grip on aforementioned brain cells occasionally wasn’t the firmest.)

Janus had just cut the last of his vegetable-masquerading fruit from its vine with a pair of pruning shears. He’d been in the middle of hefting it up, about to turn and place in his yard cart with the others when he heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps stampeding closer and closer and—

Even before he’d discovered a flash of green and black in his peripheral vision, he’d braced himself. He tried to pull off a graceful sidestep that would’ve made Bugs Bunny proud.

But it was still too late.

He felt foreign weight slam into his side.

He saw a metallic blur glinting, swinging right for his throat.

He heard a whooshing Snicker-Snack! which was accompanied by a sickening cRrrck-pop!

And then he was airborn with what seemed to be a lot more vertigo than usual for simply losing balance. An instinctual squawk barged its way through his lips as his face met the ground, trademark bowler hat flying off due to the impact.

“Heads up, Janny!” A familiar voice squealed, maniacal laughter somehow not drowning out Janus’ sigh.

“Right, because it just doesn’t make any sense to call out a warning before you take action.”

“Exactly!” Remus agreed, his mustachioed figure entering Janus’ field of vision, hefting a bloody axe over one shoulder.

The blood in question was a deep shade of gold, glowing and letting off a bit of steam. It wasn’t real blood, of course, as Janus wasn’t a corporeal person. That was why he didn’t feel any true pain from whatever Remus had just done to him. He and the other Sides could still feel pain, but it was just. . .a very different type from the human pains that Thomas could feel.

“What’s your game today?” Janus asked, using the supremely uninterested tone of voice he always used when trying to play off a slight. “Have you already gotten bored with trying to catch Logan off guard?” He knew it was pointless to ask why Remus had singled him out. Since the first day of October, The Duke had been selecting the other Sides at random to be the victims of his Halloween escapades. He’d already pulled a staggering amount of pranks on the Lights, so perhaps he’d decided to take a break and target his fellow Darks for a bit.

“Oh, no-no-no,” Remus replied with a shake of his head. “Logan’s on my schedule three days from now.”

Janus raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you care for schedules?”

Remus raised an eyebrow right back. “Uh, since I learned about the Goretober tradition online? Duh!”

“. . .Ah, that’s right. That was the first thing you saw once you found a way to Tumblr.” Janus nearly cringed at the memories, but he wouldn’t let his mask of casual nefariousness slip. Especially since it was threatening to slip away as he tried to right himself and. . .failed.

It took everything he had to not let his mouth drop open in shock at the realization that he couldn’t completely feel his arms.

Or his legs.

Or his everything else.

In fact, it seemed the only things he could truly feel were all above the neck.

Janus glanced back at Remus, annoyed to discover that the latter had most certainly seen the brief shock that had just manifested in his eyes.

“Remusssss,” Janus hissed, narrowing his eyes to a dangerous extent. “What the hell have you done?”

Remus tilted his head with a smirk. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“If it was obvious, then I wouldn’t have asked.”

“. . .Meh, fair point.” Remus shrugged, then tossed his axe onto the ground before cupping his chin in thought. “Well, I suppose I could just tell you. . .but we all know I’m all about visual stuff, so. . !”

“What are you—HEY!” Janus bared his teeth, snarling as Remus reached for his face. He immediately tried to twist away, but he just couldn’t feel any movement. “No! NO! REMUS, GET YOUR GRIMEY HANDS OFF ME BEFORE I—!”

Janus cut himself off as Remus hefted him up, all but cradling his lower jaw. He was still greatly concerned about A. all the things Remus could’ve potentially touched before this, and B. what he’d have to wash his face with to make sure both his skin and scales were properly cleaned.

But that concern took a brief backseat to shock as Janus realized. . .his torso wasn’t brushing against Remus’. It should’ve been, considering how he was being held, but it just wasn’t. He glanced downward, but all he could see were Remus’ arms.

“Before you what, exactly?” Remus inquired, grinning and batting his eyelashes with snide glee.

Janus felt his brow furrow. He made to experimentally raise one arm.

He felt the movement from his shoulder and near his side.

But the limb in question never came into view.

He then let his arm drop, and felt it lightly collapse against the ground.

Remus must’ve seen his cohort putting all the pieces together, because he chuckled and maneuvered his hands in order for Janus to see. . .well, Janus. It wasn’t unlike all the times Janus had hovered before the vanity mirror in his room to fix himself up for his outings. The only difference was the veil of golden smoke billowing into the air from his freshly-opened neck. More of the glowing, metaphysical blood tried to ooze out, but now that Janus had finally seen the damage for himself, he was able to will said blood back where it belonged before it could stain his cloak.

“Well,” Janus pronounced rather casually for a man who was looking at his own decapitated body. “I’ve seen you do much worse.”

Remus hummed proudly. “The Dragon Witch was too busy hunting to come do a performance-battle with me. I was really disappointed at first, but then I remembered you talking about the pumpkins, so. . .yeah!”

Janus hummed in thought, watching as his body picked itself up and dusted the dirt away from his outfit. It then stooped down to collect Janus’ hat, which it silently twirled about its index finger as it came to stand before Remus. Janus’ free hand then outstretched in an expectant manner. “Do you mind. . ?”

“Oh, sure.” Remus handed Janus’ head back to his body with a flourish.

“Thank you.” Janus nodded(?) once his hat was returned to its proper place. His arm ever-so-slightly raised him up, letting him make eye-contact with the other Side. “Say, Remus. Did you know a snake's head can still bite long after it’s been severed and the main body has died?”

“Indeed I did! Same thing goes for wild boars, too! Why do you aaAUGH!” Remus failed to duck-and-cover fast enough as Janus opened his mouth wide, allowing two streams of venom to spray from his extended fangs. Aforementioned venom spattered against Remus’ face, hissing and bubbling as it immediately began eating into his skin.

Janus closed his mouth, a devilish smirk quickly etching its way across his features as he watched Remus fall to the ground, writhing and screaming. “How the hell were you not expecting that? You were the one who suggested I make my venom acidic.”

“Oh, I expected it alright,” Remus protested, voice keening even more than usual as he choked on air. “Figured it’d make us even, y’know?”

Janus snorted. “How polite of you.” He carefully moved his head backward, then lowered it onto his neck. This stopped the majority of the yellow smoke from pouring, though a few columns still managed to slip out between the new wound. Janus held his noggin in place, patiently waiting for his skin and bones to knit themselves back together like they always did whenever he was injured.

It took a good ten seconds or so for him to realize that the typical healing process was taking much longer than usual.

Janus felt his face fall—then he felt it twist into a scowl yet again as he heard Remus’ cries of pain transition into his usual giggles.

“W-What’s going on?” Janus blurted. “Why isn’t—?!”

“Relax, my dear Danger Noodle. It’s not permanent,” Remus interjected. He shakily got to his feet to face Janus once more. By now, Janus’ venom had stopped bubbling, but the flesh of his face was still very much a melting, oozing, hideous mess. His left eye was now completely out of proportion; its socket was sagging down to nearly touch the corner of his mouth. Meanwhile, his right jawbone had been partially revealed, bloody and glistening in the light. “You’ll get to heal that little cut by the stroke of one forty-five a.m.”

Janus’ mouth sporadically opened and closed with no words coming out; a concoction of shock, rage, and confusion clambered about his face as he stared at Remus.

Remus simply waved the glower off, folding his arms across his chest. “Ah, c’mon. Having to manually carry your head around until the wee hours can’t be that hard. In fact, you should really be thanking me.”

“THANKING YOU?!” Janus seethed as he began pacing in a small, angry circle. He would’ve thrown his hands up in anger, but he didn’t particularly want to taste his garden’s soil again.

“Yes! As I am to you!” Remus sliding up to Janus, reaching out to shake hands with his free arm. “Because now we’ve both got some kick-ass costumes for today! Don’t get me wrong, it’s really damn impressive what some artists can do with special effects makeup, but look at us! We’ve got the real deal, motherfuUUUUAAAH DAMN IT!”

Remus collapsed onto his knees as the second spritz of Janus’ venom disintegrated even more of his flesh.

Janus’ forked tongue flicked between his gritted fangs like a macabre party favor. His free hand reached under the brim of his hat to massage his temple as he mentally began counting to ten.

“A-ah. . .hey, look at that! Y-you made my costume even more authentic,” Remus wheezed, offering a thumbs up as his right eye started to dribble. “Go team!”

___

About an hour passed, and Janus found himself in the Mind Palace’s dining room. He sat at the end of the table, carefully outlining a design on the pumpkin of his choice with a black marker.

(Or, his body was doing all that, to be more precise. His head was merely watching, resting on a small silk pillow he’d brought from his bedroom.)

The other fruits of his harvest were all gathered opposite of his seat, patiently waiting for Janus’ peers to hollow them out and give them faces.

Speaking of which. . .

“We’re baaaaack!” Roman’s voice called out, musical as ever and accentuated by several footsteps entering the kitchen from the back door.

“I hope we’re not late,” Patton’s bubbly tone followed, sounding a bit more strained than usual. The sound of way too many shopping bags being plunked onto countertops throughout the kitchen explained that pretty well.

“Drat,” Janus greeted in a somewhat raised voice, not taking his eyes off of his jack-o-lantern-in-progress. “I really thought you’d gone to get some more milk this time.”

“I did!” Patton reassured. He was still in the kitchen, so there was no way to be certain if he truly understood that little jab. “We’ll be whipping up a fresh batch of cookies soon, after all! I may be a laid-back dad. . .” Patton’s giggles suddenly halted, and his voice became low, “. . .but I will NOT tolerate any treat-blasphemy in this household.”

“I’m trembling in my boots,” Janus yawned, trying to ignore the tiny chill that crept along his spine. “The sugar-pumpkins you requested are ready.”

“Hmm? Oh yeah, I see them!” Patton cheered. “They’re just adorable!”

“Puh-leeze, Padre. The only adorable fruit in here is you!” Roman, also having yet to be seen, chuckled. “Because I’m the handsome fruit, obviously.”

More footsteps began trekking along the floor, quickly getting closer and closer to the dining room. Janus had to bite his tongue to avoid chuckling once he saw the sleeve of Patton’s cat-hoodie poke around the kitchen doorway

“Thank you so much for growing these guys, Janus! You’ve helped me to really give everyone pumpkin to talk aboouu. . .” Patton trailed off, the way his eyes were growing to the size of dinner plates suddenly evident in his voice.

For dramatic effect, Janus waited until he heard the telltale sound of a body staggering against the adjacent wall and hitting the floor with a light thud before finally acknowledging the other Side. He smiled, offering a polite nod(?).

Patton, in response, somehow managed to nod back even as he sat trembling and gaping. “J-J-Janus. . ?”

“P-P-Patton?” Janus echoed, tilting his head to the side and putting on a mask of innocent confusion.

"Are—are you. . ." Patton fumbled over his words. ". . .okay?"

"Maybe, maybe not. That just depends on perspective." Janus quirked a cryptic eyebrow. He knew Patton understood how beings like themselves couldn't truly be harmed or killed by physical means like this (despite all that fluff between his ears), but the latter Side still definitely wasn't used to seeing his peers going about their typical business post-decapitation. "Come now, don't look so shocked. I have mentioned wanting to stay ahead of you all several times in the past."

An uncertain giggle wormed its way out of Patton's mouth as the wordplay graced his ears. He still looked a bit green around the gills, but it seemed his nerves were calming back down.

After all, a beheaded person who could still talk and move and make puns (probably) made for much better company than a beheaded person who would just conform to Rigor Mortis and bleed out all over the carpet.

“Hey, Patton? Where did you want the—” Roman called, his shadow crossing the floor as he, too, began to approach. “Whatever are you doing on the floor? It looks you’ve seen a ghAUGH!"

“Hello to you, too, Roman.” Janus’ hand briefly put the marker down in order to tip his hat to the aforementioned prince.

“WHAT IN THE NAME OF TRIXIE MATTEL HAPPENED TO YOU?!”

Janus raised a hand, letting it hover before his mouth in a mock-gasp. “Really, now? Using her majesty’s title in vain? I would’ve expected better from you!” He then rolled his eyes as his body went back to work on his pumpkin. “It’s just a scratch, really.”

“A scratch?!” Roman cried, venturing a few steps closer. “Your head is off!”

Janus smirked, eyes glinting mischievously. “No it isn’t.”

Roman sputtered, pointing at Janus’ neck. “Well, what’s that, then?!”

Janus tossed a glance at his body. The golden smoke was still rising from the hole where his head should’ve been. He could’ve made it stop entirely, but he’d decided against that, since it was a truly interesting sight once you got past the fact that blood should’ve been gushing out.

“. . .I’ve had worse.”

“Is the unnecessary confrontation already beginning?” The voice that echoed from somewhere by the living room sounded calm and steady at first, if not clipped. If you listened closely, however, you’d be able to tell that the speaker was simply holding back on some extremely warranted aggravation with the power of Crofters jam and well-intentioned vibes. “I was certain the inevitable catastrophe would come after the pumpkins' insides were cleaned.”

Logan came strolling down the staircase, and though he did do a near-neck-snapping double-take upon seeing Janus in a much more beheaded state than usual, he took his shock with much more stride than the others. “Salutations, Janus. Are you. . .well?”

“Now that you mention it, my neck is feeling a little numb,” Janus replied, making sure that he still looked and sounded supremely unbothered by his headlessness.

Logan ever-so-slightly raised his eyebrows, some undeniable curiosity glinting in his eyes. “I’m assuming Remus had something to do with this?”

Janus pursed his lips. “What gave you that impression? The way he was sing-shouting something along the lines of how I should’ve let him carry my head as he ‘properly galumphed’ back into the commons?”

“Correct."

“Ah, so you haven’t gone deaf yet. I suppose that’s good to know.”

Logan quietly moved closer to the table, standing on the opposite side of Roman, who was still murmur-rambling in shock for all he was worth. “May I ask what prompted him to—”

“Really, what’s the point if you haven’t guessed by now?” Janus tsk-tsk-tsk-tsk-tsked, raising one hand to wag a finger in Logan’s direction. “In any case, it’s not important.”

“I’m inclined to disagree!” Roman protested.

“Why haven’t you reversed the damage by now?” Logan wondered aloud. “Having to carry your own head can’t be a very pleasant experience.”

“Oh, you’d be so surprised,” Janus drawled, his body offering a shrug. “I’m sure I’ve proven how much I adore the odd challenge or two. Would you believe me if I said that I sought out Remus and requested this?”

Logan’s face was quick to fall back into its usual no-nonsense mask. “No, I wouldn’t.”

“Right, right. Just as I wouldn’t be more focused on keeping an eye out for the plans Remus might have for later this week.”

Logan squinted at this particular statement, just barely tipping his head in a nod as his eyes darted all around the room in thought. He then set his focus on the available pumpkins nearby, scanning the pile to see which one would be worthy of his carving.

“W-well. . .I mean, it sounds like there’s gourd vibes all around.” Patton cleared his throat, finally back on his feet. He flashed a nervous-yet-genuine smile over to Janus, who responded with a smug chortle at the pun. “But the pumpkin-flavored everything isn’t gonna make itself, so, I guess I’d better get to it!” He turned on his heel, retreating back into the kitchen. “You kiddos have fun with the jack-o-lanterns! Just call me if you need anything!”

Roman finally picked his jaw up off the floor and sat down on the chair he’d had in a white-knuckled grip since the beginning of the situation. He heaved his seventh dramatic sigh of the day, side-eyeing Janus.

“Couldn’t you at least. . .do something? With the stump?” The prince attempted to huff a laugh. “You’re supposed to be all about mystery, aren’t you?”

“Is that what I am?” Janus mused, angling his head in a way that allowed his eyes to be shaded while his scales caught the light. “Well, this may come as a shock, but I’ve been trying to work on my pumpkin for that exact purpose.” Something sinister crept into his casual facade. “But, if you’d rather I try something else. . .”

Janus’ body raised at arm, first to drum his fingers against his throat before snapping those same fingers twice.

The golden smoke seemed to pause. It then grew darker and thicker, splitting itself down the middle to create two columns. And as those columns began to twist and ripple in place, their particles took on a much more organic shine.

Twin bone-rattling hisses crept into the air as row after row of scales spiraled throughout the vapor.

Two pairs of haunting, slit-pupiled eyes blinked to life, automatically scrutinizing the area.

A matching set of sinuous skeletons flickered within the glow in a way that could reasonably be compared to an x-ray.

And just like that, within less of a minute, Janus suddenly had a new head.

Well, he technically had three heads now, but who was counting?

Certainly not Roman, who fell out of his chair with a shriek as the duo of huge, ethereal snakes now protruding from Janus’ neck tried to slither closer to him.

“How’s this look?” Janus asked, not batting an eyelid. “Do you think their scales compliment mine?”

“I think yOU SHOULD LEARN TO TAKE A DAMN JOKE!” Roman cried, shielding his face. “JUST GO BACK TO THE SLEEPY HOLLOW REFERENCE! IT SUITS YOU!”

“Splendid idea, Roman,” Janus simpered. With a couple more snaps of his fingers, the ghostly serpents evaporated, spiraling out of existence layer by layer. “It’s almost like I was trying to do that in the first place.”

“. . .That was an exceptional reference to Coatlicue,” Logan pronounced, with the intrigue in his eyes being a little more than mild.

“Of course it was,” Janus purred, somehow being smug and grateful at the same time.

“Co-How-Do-You-Say?” Patton, piped up. He was poking his head through the kitchen doorway yet again, probably having been lured back by the new commotion and (judging by the cocktail of confusion and fright on his face) was now most certainly questioning several of his choices.

As Logan began rattling off the basics of Aztec mythology, Roman climbed back onto his selected chair with a few petulant grumbles that might’ve been more colorful if not for Patton’s re-entry. He was quiet for the next moment or two, reaching across the table to drag a particular pumpkin closer.

“So. After we’re all done with putting the hollow in Halloween. . .” he eventually coughed. “. . .I don’t suppose you’d be up for a little chase-and-duel on horseback later tonight? I just organized a new little forest in the imagination. With a brook and a bridge, of course.”

Janus mulled this information over as he took a tiny saw into his hand and pushed it toward his chosen pumpkin. “I might be able to make some room in my planner.”

@sammys-magical-au @lickoutyourbrains @impatentpending @fangirltothefullest

#the thirteen days of goretober #goretober 2023 #my writing #my stories #sanders sides #janus sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #tw body horror #tw blades #tw physical violence #tw acidic chemicals #tw skin melting #tw blood #tw snakes #tw mentions of food

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densi-mber · 1 year ago

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With Mistletoe and Presents for Pretty Girls

“Ok, what else do we need?” Deeks asks, surveying the spread in front of him. There’s a meat and cheese tray (he refuses to call it a charcuterie board), fruit, desserts, a variety of snacks, and drinks.

“A kitchen sink?” Kensi suggests wryly, peering over his shoulder. A tiny hand grabs ahold of his shirt, and he turns his head, grinning up into Caleb’s round face.

“What do you think? Should we add some peanut butter and jelly, maybe some spaghetti?”

“Tootie,” Caleb whispers with a grin that shows two tiny, perfect teeth. It’s pretty much Deeks’ favorite thing ever. Sophia has an almost identical set.

“Oh, you’re totally right. We definitely need more cookies,” Deeks says, leaning in to give Caleb a smacking kiss on the cheek. “How’s everyone doing out there?”

“Great. Your mom is entertaining Kilbride with scandalous stories from her past. I’m not sure if he’s amused or horrified,” Kensi reports.

“Hey, it’s got to be better than Arkady.”

“Kady,” Caleb repeats solemnly, looking around the room expectantly.

“Otherwise, everyone has drinks and food. They seem pretty happy.”

“Are we crazy to host a Christmas party when we’ve got twin one year olds running around?” Deeks asks.

“Probably,” Kensi confirms lightly.

“Speaking of twins, where’s Soph?”

“Oh, I left her with Eric and Nell.” Deeks purses his lips at that revelation, and she quickly adds, “Don’t worry. Sam’s on standby.”

“Good. I trust them. But they also are slightly insane,” Deeks says.

Smiling, he turns, bracing his back against the counter. He settles his hands on Kensi’s hips. “Hey, did I mention that you look fantastic?” he asks, smoothing a thumb over the soft fabric of her dress.

“If you like this, wait until you see tonight’s wardrobe,” she murmurs, leaning forward to brush her nose over his. Deeks’ breath catches, and he chuckles softly.

“Can’t wait.”

“Mm.” Kensi stays pressed against him for a few more seconds until Caleb decides he wants to be included and smushes his face between them. “Ok, ok, time to rejoin the party,” she says, snatching a mini quiche off the counter and popping it in her mouth.

Together, they head out into the living room, which is at capacity with the tree, manger, and guests packed inside. Said guests are gathered in a semi-circle, their attention focused on something in the center of the room.

The reason behind that focus becomes obvious when Deeks sees Sam toss Sophia above his head, and Nell says,

“Ok, ok, enough of that. Kensi left her in my charge and I’m not gonna let anything happen to Sophie.”

“Like I’d drop her,” Sam scoffs.

“All right, quit hogging the baby,” Rountree’s voice filters through.

“Oh no, it’s my turn,” Fatima protests.

“Looks like we didn’t need to provide any entertainment after all,” Deeks drawls, watching Sophia unwittingly participate in a round of musical baby. “Small children are sufficient.”

“Just so long as we get them back at the end of the night,” Kensi comments, stretching her neck to follow Sophia’s progress around the room.

“Ca down!” Caleb requests, kicking his legs as Kensi crouches to set him down. As soon as he hits the floor, he’s off running on his chubby legs, towards his sister, and the guests.

“Caleb!” Nell shouts out, squatting and holding her arms out. He runs towards her willingly, letting her scoop him up into her arms. “I call dibs.”

“Nell, it’s not a contest,” Callen reminds her, but she ignores him in favor of taking Caleb to a clear space and spinning him in tight circles.

The next few hours are spent enjoying food and drinks while the twins keep them entertained. Everyone has brought a gift of some type as well, and soon the room is littered with little strips of wrapping paper and tissue.

“Best Christmas party we’ve ever had,” Deeks sighs. Kensi’s curled up against his side, Sophia and Caleb settled on his lap. Most of the guests have left by now, but Eric and Nell are passed out on a chair together.

“It was.” Kensi lifts her head, pressing her lips to his for a lingering kiss. “How about we open that present?”

“Now?” Deeks asks in surprise.

“Yeah, the twins are asleep,” Kensi says.

“With Eric and Nell in the house.”.

“Eric sleeps like the dead and Nell drank a lot of egg nog,” Kensi reasons. “They’re not going to be waking up for a while.”

“I don’t know…”

“C’mon let’s be risky.” Pulling away from him, Kensi gives him that look he can’t resist.

“You are a menace,” he says with a grin.

***

A/N: Perhaps not the most traditional Christmas Party, but I hope you enjoyed it.

#densimber 7.0 #densimber 2023 #densimber day 13 #ncis la fanfiction #densi #kensi blye #marty deeks #and co #Christmas party #fluff #by ejzah

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rustycottoncandy · 1 year ago

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So they opened a new 'store' near home and OH BOY AM I EXCITED ABOUT IT.

There's not much to it, but I really like what there is. It's a small room, open 24/7, with three vending machines. The first one's got various snacks, the second one cold drinks and the third one warm drinks.

Not only are the snacks they've got good, but they're also very cheap hello??? Seeing them was like a breath of fresh air, honestly.

AND WANNA KNOW WHAT I LIKE ABOUT THEM THE MOST??

THEY'VE GOT A DRINK THAT I'VE BEEN LOOKING FOR FOR AGES. It's called 'Mogu Mogu' and I first tried it at a convention - there are a lot of flavors you can choose from and they're basically fruit juice with bits of jelly inside. They are SO hard to find, and, WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT?? I can now buy them pretty much at any time, RIGHT NEXT TO MY HOME. HOW GREAT IS THAT

I know where I'm gonna get snacks after school from now on hsgs

#my stuff #school

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mixergiltron · 10 months ago

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Bartending.

(always remember to dress appropriately when bartending)

So I'm not a bartender,but I play one when I go to parties. And this past weekend I was at a friend's house for burgers,music,and of course cocktails. He enlisted me to be his bartender,and I did two drinks batched style in pitchers for the guests.

As per usual,my drinks got rave reviews. Here's what we served:

Mix #166 Don's Special Daiquiri

1oz gold rum 1/2oz light rum 1/2oz passion fruit syrup 1/2oz honey syrup 1/2oz lime juice

Shake with ice and strain into chilled glass.

Sweet,but no too sweet,with a honey finish. This is the '70's version of Don's 1934 Mona Daiquiri. His used a special thirty year old rum,but it works just fine with regular rum.

Mix #22 Remixed Zombie

1.5oz gold rum 1.5oz dark rum 1oz 151 Demerara rum 3/4oz lime juice 1/2oz Don's mix * 1/2oz falernum 1tsp grenadine 6 drops absinthe dash Angostura bitters 6oz crushed ice

Blend at high speed for 5 seconds. Pour into tall glass and add ice to fill.

*Don's Mix is 2 parts white grapefruit juice to 1 part cinnamon syrup,I've used regular grapefruit juice with good results.

Spicy,cinnamon-y,citrus-y,this drink is legendary for its kick. With four ounces of rum,one of which is 151,there's a reason Don would only serve you two of these. More than two and you'll feel like the walking dead the next morning. We did small cups that were about equal to a triple shot,and limited the guests to two since our host didn't want to hurt them.

On the subject of bartending,here are some of the tools I use for my mixings.

The Difford's Easy Jigger is great for mixing cocktails due to the markings in many sizes and measurements. It does ounces,milliliters,and even tea and table spoons. It goes up to two ounces and all the way down to 1/24. It allows you to get precise measurements to ensure your cocktails turn out right.

Bee Chill ice cube trays. Tiki drinks are best made with pebble or cracked ice,but ice makers are expensive and a pain to clean. These silicon trays make hex cubes about as big around as a nickle. You can find them for cheap at TJMaxx or Marshalls. They also have these mini trays:

These make proper pebble ice,but are a pain to use. I bust these out when I'm feeling fancy.

A jelly jar. What's Tiki about a jelly jar? Well back in 2020 Trader Vic's did a jar for Mai Tai day. The idea was to pour the ingredients into the jar with ice,screw on the top and shake,then remove the top and drink from the jar. Brilliant! A shaker and glass in one,so you only have to clean two things(jigger,jar) instead of three(jigger,shaker,glass/mug). This appeals to the bachelor in me. And it's classy as long as you hold up your pinkie while drinking. That jar is in my collection,but for a user I picked up a fancy Italian one at the Container Store.

So if you need a bartender for your party,I only charge in food and rum.

#tiki drinks #tiki #tikiculture #rum cocktails #cocktails #rum drinks #rum #tikilife #home bar #home bartending #bartending #mixology

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miss-floral-thief · 3 years ago

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lol bought two drinks instead of one b/c #treatyoself 8D;

#personalice #food mention #smaller than my usual place anyways #(they didn't ask but maybe it's all the same size for iced drinks compared to coffee)#tho maybe i should've asked for a hot drink and then a cold one to take home lol #(wore a long dress but didn't wear tights lol)#green tea is an interesting taste as a latte tho their boba is #also got a twist donut #and a strawberry/cream jam 'sandwich' called a 'mammoth'#(something like that you'd expect to be stuffed with meat lol [tho if they had made to order korean toast they'd prolly be more popular/pa])#and i got 'fruit' jelly for my second drink #idk if mango is included in it (it seems to be a separate mango jelly order [i usually just get strawberry])#(seems more yellow (maybe pineapple? but even so more tolerable in jelly form at least tho maybe next time i can ask for just pink/)#/strawberry jelly XD)#(shape of the sandwich is a rounded half but more than i expected for the price)#(so i can see a student having that while studying lol)#(weird that they didn't have strawberry milk tea but smoothie i'd expect them to just use th ingredient)#(unless the fruit tea stuff in other places are artificial tho the cafe i go to usually blends real stuff/pieces of the fruit in the top lo)#(i still havnen't finished hte garlic bread i got from last time it's not bad but it's a bit sweeter leaning than the kind i usually eat ha)

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plant-flwrs · 4 years ago

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ruined parties // older brother draco (implied fred weasley)

masterlist!

a/n: i didn't know how to label this without it looking like an incest fic and I just want everyone to know it is most definitely not an incest fic and I don't know how to make it look better why is this my life

i just saw this in my inbox unreasonably late and I loved it sm so I wrote this little overprotective big brother draco fic :) I wanted to thank @gaycatlord-stuff for the message and the meme because I loved it sm and it rly got the juices in my sahara desert brain flowing.

summary: Draco is a relentlessly overprotective brother who ruins all romantic opportunities for you.

(2k)

-----

Sometimes, you wondered how different your life would be as a muggle. You wondered if your wealthy parents would have shoved you off to a nanny rather than house-elves; if you would have gone to a muggle boarding school and studied classic literature for an actual class and not just for fun, which Draco loved to remind you was one of the weirder things about you; if you would have learned to do laundry and wash the dishes and comb your hair without the brush levitating with a flick of your wand.

You wondered, most of all, how Draco would manage to beat up all the boys who showed interest in you as you grew up.

Draco went through his phases of the ways in which he would 'protect' you. He had really enjoyed the bat-bogey hex for a while in your first year. In second year and most of third year, he went with the safe option of the jelly-legs jinx. By fourth year he had matured to more advanced methods of transfiguration. He had managed to turn Michael Corner into a raccoon for at least a whole day when Michael had offered to carry your bag for you in the hall.

Fifth year was bad. He had been taken in by Snape, who offered him a number of tips and tricks in the world of dark magic. You insisted Draco didn't need dark magic, and he insisted that you mind your own business.

Draco was irritable and nearly unbearable by sixth year. He hovered over you like a vulture, sending glares to anyone who even looked at you. Your friends started calling him Bloody Mary because he was always haunting over your shoulder. You knew it was because your parents were putting a lot of pressure on him and his crush on Harry Potter was becoming inhumanely large, but still. It was annoying.

It was even more annoying when Draco seemed to have met a suitable match in Fred Weasley.

You had a bit of a liking for muggle things. The school year was your only chance to inhabit this hobby, with your father removing all your muggle posters from your room the second you left for the train. You took Muggle Studies and begged Dumbledore not to tell your parents. You had mostly muggle-born or half-blood friends, which you also told your parents nothing about. Draco found this all the more reason to 'protect' you.

"You ought to dye your hair," you gritted out, sulking over your breakfast and resisting the urge to kick Draco's shin under the table.

Draco didn't respond, shoveling beans into his mouth with an unamused look.

"Seriously," you continued. "Your hair doesn't match your energy. Black would be very striking. You and your boyfriend would be matching."

Draco kicked your shin under the table, making you regret not taking your chance earlier. Harry was a sore spot for Draco, but Draco had just done a wandless spell on Ernest Macmillan before he could ask you to Hogsmeade, and he deserved it.

"What are you reading?" He grunted, offering an unspoken truce he knew you would take.

You shielded the cover, "Killing your brother 101. Enlightening."

"How far into it are you?"

"Almost done. I'd prepare yourself if I were you."

Draco hummed, unfazed by your murderous threats.

"You finish the notes for Charms?" you shut your book, stealing a piece of cantaloupe from Draco's plate.

"Yes," Draco looked at you eating the stolen fruit unapprovingly, pulling some sort of older brother superiority with just one look at you. Infuriating.

"What's the time?" You abandoned the Charms notes, no longer willing to admit you didn't do them.

"Just past 7," Draco pushed his plate away from him, standing and straightening his tie.

"See you at dinner," you began putting your things away and Draco mumbled a goodbye, setting off for his own classes. You were just shoveling the last of the beans he left on his plate into your mouth when a foreign group of bodies were across from you in your peripheral.

You lifted your head, hunched over the beans and still chewing, to see Fred, George, and Lee.

You squinted, chewing slowly and leaning back as to avoid any sort of tripwire for a prank.

"Malfoy," Fred said pleasantly, which was not how people usually said your last name.

"Big brother leave you by your lonesome?" Lee added, also not taking the cruel tone most would when talking about your brother.

This was odd.

"What do you want?" you swallowed your food, eyeing them suspiciously.

"I thought she was meant to be the better of them," George stage-whispered to Lee.

"We are here to formally invite you to a party we are hosting," Fred continued, unperturbed.

Lee and George watched you, waiting for your reaction.

"Alright," you agreed and stood, joining your friends in the hall to walk to class.

"That was easier than I expected," Lee said cheerfully, visibly relieved now that he was not in your presence.

"I told you," Fred puffed his chest out confidently and place his hands on the table as he stood, "Without Draco around, she's perfect."

The party was in full swing and Draco was drunk. With one guess, you would have to assume it had something to do with the way Harry kept offering to top off his glass, his hand hovering on the small of Draco's back as they talked into each other's ears.

Drunk Draco was a luxury you were not often afforded. Drunk Draco meant living a life of your own, doing things without his watchful eye.

So you also got drunk. Your friends used the term 'waisted' the next morning, but we will say 'drunk' for maturity purposes. And drunk you got!

Fred was always suspiciously close to you, and suspiciously nice once you thought harder on it. You tried not to leave any drink unguarded while he hovered and stayed with friends as often as possible.

You eventually found yourself on a large leather couch in the center of the room. Ron was next to you, stoned out of his mind, and digging around in the pocket of his flannel for more rolling papers. On the other side of you, Luna's head rolled around her neck, falling onto your shoulder and the couch and finally landing on Ginny's lap when she passed out. You watched Ginny stroke her hair, occasionally tracing a line down her nose. Sighing, you accepted the blunt when Ron finally passed it your way.

You were passing it back, sufficiently stoned out of your gourd, when it was plucked from your hands. You thought you had dropped it, jolting back and looking around frantically until you saw those awful, bony, white fingers dangling the now soggy blunt in front of your face.

"C'mon!" Ron groaned, face twisting through the stages of grief as he saw his ruined creation.

"Pot?" Draco said as if he were 40 and with a mortgage.

"Pot," you replied as if you were 17 and at a party.

One of you had an accurate hold on reality. The other held a soggy blunt.

Ron took the soggy blunt and attempted to salvage it, sinking down to his knees to work on the coffee table in front of you. Draco took his seat and set his drink on the table to his side. He didn't drink from it, presumably because of a blunt that had been swimming in it for a moment.

"I thought you were with Harry," you said slowly, torn between wanting to hurt Draco if something had gone badly with Harry and actually wanting to know why he wasn't still with him.

"Yeah, he went up to bed," Draco answered, not sounding pitiful and mournful like he had a habit of sounding after interacting with Harry.

"He didn't take you with him?" you slurred, leaning into Draco's strong and seemingly sober shoulder.

"Shut up," he chuckled, wrapping an arm around your side and hauling you off the couch. You reached into his pocket, finding some loose bills you knew would be there, and slipped them to Ron as compensation before you left.

You felt accomplished, drunk and high, leaving a party after a fun time. It was also a highlight to have given Ron Weasley Draco's drug money.

As per usual, you didn't have a date for Hogsmeade. Your friends were all in Madam Puddifoot's with their dates, gazing over the table at each other like lovesick puppies. Draco currently had you in a headlock while he rubbed his knuckles into the top of your head.

You shoved your heal into his foot, making him release you.

You both returned to your drinks with slightly labored breaths and scowls.

Draco was upset because Harry wasn't at Hogsmeade and you were upset because you were in Hogsmeade with Draco. You would have fallen at his knees and begged him to release you from the chains of this sibling dynamic if he weren't the one buying lunch today.

You ate, still scowling, and walked around scowling, and returned to Hogwarts scowling. You hugged each other, scowling, before bed and went to your respective dorms.

It was hot and there was no wind. Really, absolutely no wind. The water on the black lake was eerily reflective and the trees were unmoving.

You were walking with some friends, charmed fans moving around you as they blew cold air in your faces. You were returning from Hogsmeade with ice cream, very happy from the outing without Draco.

Regretfully, Draco did not seem to be as happy.

Stepping into the courtyard, you felt a drop of your ice cream land on your hand, sticky and cold and messy, and at the same time, you saw Draco hurl himself at Fred Weasley.

Fred sprawled across the courtyard, landing on some poorly transfigured pillows that you guessed were the product of George's wandless magic. His head was cushioned from what would have been a nasty hit on the stone. He squirmed under Draco, long arms and legs flailing against the steady weight Draco was putting on him.

You watched Lee and George leaning against a wall, presumably letting Fred fight this battle on his own.

You decided to do something similar.

You watched as Fred wrangled himself free, both boys tripping over the pillows until George vanished them. In the free space, they circled each other with their hands raised. It was funny to see two pure-blood wizards fighting so viciously without a hint of magic.

Draco took a step forward with his left foot, tricking Fred out to lunge at him from the right. He had Fred's leg and then Fred was on the ground again, grunting in pain. Draco flipped him and pinned him, knee resting on Fred's back and hands holding his arms together. Deciding Draco had enough fun, you walked over.

"Fight Club?" you offered, quirking an eyebrow.

"Did you go to Hogsmeade?" Draco ignored you, panting slightly. Up close you saw he had a nasty bruise on his cheekbone and some blood coming from his nose. Fred must have gotten a few hits in.

"Yeah," you licked your ice cream, "bloody scorching out."

"Hm," Draco hummed, adjusting his grip on Fred's arm and causing Fred to yelp in pain.

"How are you?" you asked politely.

"Alright. You?"

"Alright."

Draco nodded.

"So, what's this about?"

"He said he was going to prank you," Draco said, shrugging and adjusting Fred's arm again on purpose.

You gasped in faux shock, crouching down to look at Fred.

"A prank?" you asked him, smirking.

"No!" Fred yelped when he tried to move his arms.

You looked to Draco, whose eyebrows were furrowed. "I heard you! You said you were going to take her out!"

"Draco."

"Draco!" Fred yelped, finally getting his arms loose and crawling from underneath Draco's grasp.

"Oh my fucking god."

"Merlin," Fred mumbled, looking at your face and then Draco's guilty expression.

"Oh," Draco said simply, head tilting as he added up the moment's events in his head.

"Oh my fucking god," you repeated.

Draco got his feet under him.

"Oh my fucking god!" you hurled your ice cream cone at his back, hitting him hard as he ran. You chased him, narrowly avoiding the trail of melted strawberry ice cream he was leaving through the halls.

#draco #draco malfoy #malfoy #big brother draco #fred weasley x reader #fred has a crush on the reader #draco is an overprotective brother #draco is stupid #draco loves harry #drarry #humor #harry potter #hp #hogwarts

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cemeteryrocks900 · 3 years ago

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Birthday eats!! Got an Apple Watch too!! and my bf got me my favorite candy<3

I had 4!! Mini donuts (fruit pebble, sprinkle, 2 m&m)

Had a strab and crème frapp and they messed it up a little and realized after and asked if I wanted it remade and I said no!! I asked no whipped cream and they still put it on and instead of them remaking it I dealt with it!! I got a strawb and crème frapp-2% milk, blended with strawberry (I meant purée but they blended in freeze dried strawberries but it’s ok!!) and it’s was actually delicious!

Then for dinner my mom ended up not wanting to go with me bc I said my sister wasn’t allowed so my mom said she wasn’t gonna go either, it was sad, I cried bc she didn’t even say happy birthday to me, come to dinner with me, cut the cake with me or watch me open gifts:/

The I had TWO pieces of cookie cake, first one with some ice cream, second one plain

Day overall 7/10, me and my bf also stopped at Sephora and ulta for free gifts but ulta had a coconut face mist that I’m allergic to so it’s now my boyfriends, got the free starbs drink

Worried the eggs from the diner were undercooked bc they were really watery so I’m nervous, I had a full slice of toast (2 slices) one with strawberry jelly and one with grape jelly it was wheat bread and it was scary, the omelette also came with home fries and I really didn’t want them so I had a few and they just weren’t good, so oily and I don’t really like diner home fries anyway, I KNEW I should’ve gotten that chicken finger salad.

I didn’t feel guilty or sad all day but now I feel gross and sad but not as overwhelming as I thought I’d be, more upset that my mom didn’t even care about me today:/

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luminnara · 4 years ago

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The Dismemberment Song PART 2 | BOP Victor Zsasz x Reader | 18+

Fandom: Birds of Prey

Words:

Summary: Zsasz takes a liking to one of the burlesque dancers at Roman’s club. It turns out the two have a little history together...and they both want to do something about their unresolved tension.

PART ONE | PART TWO

Thanks so much for reading!! I really really hope you like this, because BOP Zsasz needs more love and attention, and I, for one, am determined to give it to him!

Words: 3,666

Warnings: Alcohol, blood, violence, mutilation, that good good smutty smut (oral, penetration), kinda dom!Zsasz

Requests are open!!

You had never been in Roman Sionis’s penthouse. It was strictly off limits to anyone he didn’t personally invite, and you didn’t even think that his favorite little bird, Dinah Lance, had been up there. Now, though, here you were, stepping out of the elevator with Zsasz on your heels as you marveled at the converted loft.

“Holy shit,” you breathed, looking around.

Roman’s place was filled with weird art, all sorts of exotic masks sitting on pedestals or hanging on the walls. There was a long, dark dinner table with a decorative fruit platter sitting in the center, and an open floor plan allowed to see the spacious living room surrounded by huge walls of windows that overlooked the East End. It was the perfect blend of luxurious and industrial for someone like Roman, and you sighed as you imagined yourself living somewhere so nice.

“‘Sthat all about?” Zsasz asked in that rough, low, almost drawling voice.

“Just admiring the view,” you said as you left him to go stand before the windows.

“Yeah,” Zsasz agreed. “It’s nice.”

But his eyes were on you, not the Gotham skyline.

“Do you stay here with him?” You asked, turning to look at Roman’s henchman with a bright, exuberant smile on your face, as if you hadn’t just murdered a man onstage in the club.

“I do.” Zsasz approached you, hands in his pockets as he moved in that watchful, predatory way you always saw him slinking around with. “I’ve gotta protect the boss. He needs me.”

“You must do a pretty good job of it.” You mused. Now that you were confident that Roman wasn’t going to have Zsasz peel your face off, you were allowing yourself to relax again.

“It’s my job.” He said simply, coming to stand behind you. He was so close that you could smell his cologne, his breath hot on your neck as he leaned in.

You froze.

His chest was brushing your back and you were almost certain he could hear the way your heart was hammering away in your chest. You held perfectly still, not daring to move a muscle as Zsasz brought a hand up to brush your bloodstained curls away from your shoulder.

His fingers were rough, calloused, and warm, just like the rest of him, his hands big and strong enough that you were confident he could kill you unarmed in the blink of an eye. The weird, sadistic side of you would welcome it; though you had never admitted it to anybody before, you were pretty sure that Victor Zsasz was the only man you would ever allow to kill you.

You could remember the first time you met him, years ago, when he and Roman came to your old gig to convince you to start up at the Black Mask. He had less scars back then, but still the same bleached hair and that fucking handsome stubble on his jaw. You had been entranced as you watched him follow your eventual employer around, the club owner giving them their own corner booth and all the bottle service that Roman Sionis could possibly want.

You could remember how your legs had turned to jelly when the shift manager sent you over to them, but you must have managed to hide it well, because you spent the rest of the night drinking and partying with Roman fucking Sionis. Then, obviously, one thing led to another, and you had gone to work for him.

The part you had never told anyone about, though, the part you never spoke of, was the part where Zsasz had taken you into a vip room.

You didn’t remember all the details about everything that night, but you could still recall every moment you spent on his lap. Every appreciative squeeze he gave your ass and thighs, every low moan he let out as you rocked your hips with his. You still dreamt about it once in a while, even though you were sure that it had all been something about Roman making his lackey inspect the goods before hiring you.

But still...you had loved it.

He always wore his shirts unbuttoned a fair ways down to show off the scars on his upper chest, but that night, you had gotten to see more. You could remember how you had run your fingers over them, and the way that Zsasz had watched you almost reverently. You didn’t know exactly why he etched them into himself, if it was to intimidate everyone or for some personal reason, but you didn’t find them odd or ugly. You loved the raised scar tissue and the way it felt, so smooth to the touch despite looking so gnarled, and it was one of the many reasons you had always harbored a secret liking for Victor Zsasz.

Now, as he stood so close behind you, you felt that same jelly in your legs.

“You should get cleaned up, kitten.” He said in that low voice. “The boss wouldn’t want you making a mess.”

You tilted your head slightly, watching him out of the corner of your eye. “Why don’t you show me to the shower then, Zsasz?”

It came out more sultry than you had intended, but when he responded by pressing his hips into your ass, you were glad. He caught the way your breath hitched in your throat, his eyes trained on yours as he did nothing but stare at you for a few agonizingly long moments.

“Right this way, Princess.” He finally broke away.

You brushed off your mild disappointment, mentally chastising yourself for hoping that would have gone further, and followed him down a hallway, passing a few closed doors before reaching one that stood open. When Victor stepped in and flipped the light switch, you stood and gawked at what awaited you.

Of course Roman Sionis would have the nicest guest bathroom in Gotham.

It was huge, a claw foot tub sitting against the wall across from the sink while a shower was situation at the far end. Everything was off-white and antique gold, simple and elegant and clearly very expensive.

“Holy shit,” you said under your breath, for the second time that night. “Roman doesn’t skimp out, does he?”

“The boss has expensive taste.” Zsasz said, following you in. “Get in the shower.”

You turned and looked at him. “Little privacy might be nice.”

He only stared back.

“Zsasz...?” You gave a little nod towards the door.

“Oh,” he chuckled, laughing to himself as if something had slipped his mind. “Course. Privacy.”

He turned and shut the door, still in the room with you.

You sighed.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Can’t leave you alone in here unattended.” He said, stepping towards you. “You might slip and fall.”

His voice was slightly menacing, in a way that had you almost wondering if he wasn’t going to find a way to kill you and stage your death as an accident. But you were confident in yourself. If he made any funny moves, you could get him before he got you.

Maybe.

“Fine.” You jutted your chin out defiantly. “Then why don’t you make yourself useful and go warm up the water for me while I get out of this robe?”

You expected him to roll his eyes and sneer, but he didn’t. He didn’t even refuse. He just walked right over, slid the glass shower door to the side, and turned the water on. Just like that. Obediently, as if he actually wanted to. You were so dumbfounded by it that by the time he glanced back towards you, you were still standing there, completely dressed.

He looked a bit disappointed.

“Well?” He asked.

“What? Oh.” You untied your fancy little robe and let it fall onto the tiles, still looking straight at him.

You could see his eyes trailing down your body, those dark circles under them giving him a hungry, starved look. When you hooked your thumbs in the sides of your thong and pulled it down, you saw his chest rising and falling as his breaths quickened slightly.

You smirked. Yeah, like Roman had said, Zsasz was harmless. If he had wanted to kill you, he would have by now. He’d already had a dozen chances on the way up to the penthouse.

As you walked toward the shower, he stepped to the side, seeming for a moment as if he was content to let you go in and enjoy the hot water in peace. Of course he wasn’t, though;

This was Victor Zsasz.

“Wait.” He caught your wrist just before you could step in and you were vaguely aware of the blade he flicked open with his other hand. “You need a mark.”

“What?” You stepped back, allowing him to pull you up to him.

“A mark.” He tapped one of the scars on the side of his face with the knife. “For your kill. Where do you want it?”

You weren’t sure what to say. You had never kept track of the lives you took, but...it really wasn’t that bad an idea. Plus, it seemed like Zsasz wasn’t giving you the option to refuse.

Double plus, it was kind of sexy to imagine him carving you up.

“Here.” you finally said, pointing to the center of your chest.

Zsasz grinned, showing off those gold teeth that you loved so much. He kept his grip on your wrist but lowered your arm to your side, his knife pressing against the thin skin above your sternum. His touch was feather light, no doubt thanks to years and years of butchering people, both for Roman and for his own pleasure. He new exactly how hard to press in which areas, an expert in the art of slicing through flesh. The steel of his blade was cool and freshly sharpened, gliding along and drawing an angry, but beautiful, red line as blood oozed up and began running down your torso.

As he dragged the knife down, you let out a hiss of discomfort, pitching forward slightly in pain. He leaned in, his forehead pressing against yours as his blade cut deeper, deeper, nearly down to the bone, and by the time he was finished, you had a four inch long gash ending at the top of your cleavage that was sure to scar marvelously.

You looked down at it in wonder. Zsasz had done it so...beautifully. He made it so important, this new tally mark. And as you gazed at it, you realized you loved it because he made it. Victor Zsasz, one of Gotham City’s most fucked up criminals, had given you a scar. For somebody just as fucked up as him...well, it practically brought tears to your eyes.

Victor didn’t give you a chance to get weepy. He dropped the bloody knife into the spotless white sink, the blade clattering loudly above the sound of the shower. Zsasz moved his thumb to your new cut, pressing it against the wound and then bringing it up to his mouth to lick your blood off.

“Zsasz,” you whispered.

“Victor.” his voice rumbled as he let go of your wrist. “Call me Victor.”

Then his hands were on you, one squeezing your tit while the other grabbed your ass. You gasped in surprise, but his mouth silenced you almost immediately. The kiss was rough, his lips nicked with a few scars, but he was good and you immediately melted against him. He was devouring you, as if he been starved of any attention for years, and maybe he had been. He was hungry for you, insistent, determined, practically begging for more as a low moan rose in his throat.

Your knees were weak, and you had to break the kiss to catch your breath before you collapsed. You wanted more, though, needed to feel more of him, your hands ripping open his nice designer button down. He wasn’t even mad that you had just sent half the buttons flying around the bathroom, because your fingers were already trailing over the scars that covered his chest, then dipping down to run across his hips.

His skin was smooth, wherever it was free of tally marks, and incredibly hot to the touch. While you explored, your lips latched onto his neck, kissing and biting and sucking in a way that he hadn’t anticipated. Zsasz was used to being the demanding one, but he wasn’t about to complain that you were so determined to leave some marks of your own.

Your hands ghosted up over his pecs and then down his abs, and you hummed in appreciation as you felt the neatly groomed hair on his chest. When your hands dipped lower and lower and finally found his belt, he suddenly growled and grabbed your wrists, and your head snapped up to look at him.

“Shower. Now.” he ordered, eyes dark.

You obeyed, slipping away from him and stepping into the shower. You could hear him undressing, and as you sighed happily at the feeling of the warm water on your skin, he came to join you.

The shower was more than big enough for the two of you, but he didn’t want to give you any space. He backed you up against the wall, his lips immediately crashing down on yours as he pushed himself up against you. You could feel his hard on pressing into your thigh and whimpered in anticipation, a shiver going straight down to your pussy.

Fuck.

You wanted him so fucking much.

“V-Victor,” you whispered as he leaned back from the kiss. You couldn’t help rubbing your thighs together, trying to alleviate the ache that was quickly building up.

“I wanna hear you purr for me, kitten.” He rasped, his big, warm hand drifting down to your cunt. He found your clit immediately, teasing it, reveling in every gasp and cry you let out for him.

He wanted nothing more than to get down on his knees and worship you with his mouth, but he could be patient.

“You know, when I saw you there, on the stage...” he said as he drew lazy circles around your clit, “...I couldn’t look away...”

“R-really?” You gasped, arching your back as you sucked in a breath.

“Mhm.” He pressed a finger into you. “So fuckin’ beautiful, the way you carved him up...”

You squealed at his touch, the sound like music to his ears. He liked it even more than the sound of his victims screaming...though he was confident you’d be doing plenty of that, too.

“Never knew such a pretty little birdie like you could do somethin’ like that...” he said, slowly pulling his finger out and then pushing it back in again. “All that blood...”

“I-I’ve killed plenty of times,” you gasped, nails digging into his arms as you clung to him.

“I could tell...you made it look like art...” he suddenly added a second finger, shoving them both in until the rest of his knuckles were pressing against your labia and he had nowhere else to go.

You let out a loud whine, wanting more, needing more. Before you could demand anything of him, though, he was kneeling in front of you, practically reading your mind as he leaned in to replace his fingers with his mouth.

You hadn’t expected him to be so skilled, but then again, you hadn’t really expected any of this to be happening tonight.

He was eating you out as if you were his last meal, as if he hadn’t had food in weeks, as if he was starving. Zsasz was desperate, lapping up all the wetness from your pussy as if it was the only thing keeping him alive, his moans vibrating against your skin. His hair was too short to tangle your fingers in, but you still tried, nails scratching his scalp in a tantalizing way while he gripped your thighs hard enough to leave little red marks behind.

“F-fuck,” you moaned, leaning your head back against the wall and tensing as he sucked on your clit. Little jolts were running through you, sparks that almost felt electric. Your limbs were tingling as your orgasm built, and as it finally spilled over, you found yourself whining and gasping and chanting his name over and over, holding onto him tightly as he licked at you greedily.

Zsasz loved it. He wanted you to need him, and he loved the sounds he could pull from you. He could keep going all night, burying his face between your thighs and worshipping you, but now, he wanted more.

“Turn around.” he said as he stood, licking his lips.

You nodded, still in a daze as you turned and braced yourself against the wall. He grabbed your hip in one hand and his cock in the other, rubbing the head against your swollen, wet pussy. Next time, he would have you suck him off. Maybe he would ask you to wake him up with a blowjob in the morning. But now, tonight, he was hungry to feel you around him, and as he slowly slid into you, he savored every moment of it.

“Fuck,” he groaned, tossing his head back as he buried himself in your heat. “You’re fuckin perfect, kitten...”

You moaned back, the feeling of his thick cock stretching your pussy around it causing you to momentarily forget your words. As he drew out and then snapped his hips forward, you grunted, biting down on your lip as you closed your eyes. He felt incredible, rubbing past all the right spots inside of you as he found a rhythm he liked and began fucking you mercilessly. His hands were grabbing you wherever they could, be it your hips or tits or hair, and as he fell further and further into his desire for you, you could feel his chest brushing over your back as he leaned down.

“You’re such a good girl,” he growled, nipping at your ear. “Who do you belong to?”

“Y-you,” you choked out, trying to turn and look at him. “I-I belong to you, Victor...”

“Good girl.” he snarled, squeezing the side of your ass cheek as hard as he could.

The moan you let out was absolutely filthy, and as your pussy squeezed around him, you felt yourself beginning to come undone once more. He pounded into you and your moans and cries grew louder and louder, a symphony of pleasure as you climaxed, and Zsasz followed soon after, moaning your name in your ear as he filled you up. Your pussy milked him, squeezing every last drop out of his cock, and as he caught his breath, you could feel him pressing lazy kisses against the back of your neck.

“Fuck,” he panted.

You straightened up and he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you against his chest as he refused to let you go. It was quiet for a moment as you both came down from your highs, the sound of the shower the only thing breaking the silence. Finally, he allowed you to turn around, and as you faced him, you saw a surprisingly serene expression on his face.

“Stay with me.” he said. It was less of a request and more of a demand.

“What about Roman?” you asked, legs still quivering.

“The boss’ll understand.”

And that was that.

Zsasz washed the blood off of your skin, insisting that you let him do all the work, and afterwards, he gave you a plush bathrobe to wear. You spent the night in Victor’s bed, and you did wake him up with a surprise blowjob, even without him asking you to. After a round of morning sex, you walked out into the penthouse in your bathrobe to see Roman Sionis already sitting at the table, and for a moment, you froze. You had almost forgotten where you were, and there was your boss, Gotham’s newest and nastiest godfather, spreading some cream cheese on a gourmet bagel.

“Ah,” he said, glancing up as he heard you. “You’re still here.”

“I...uh...”

“Mornin’, boss.” Victor said, walking out behind you. He was fully dressed, looking and acting as if he hadn’t taken home a girl the night before.

“The car is waiting for you.” Roman grunted, far more interested in his breakfast than he was in the conversation. “Be quick about it.”

Zsasz bowed his head and turned to you, holding his hand out expectantly. When you only stared at him, he almost rolled his eyes. “Your house keys, princess.”

“My...what?” you asked. “For what?”

“So I can get your things.”

“What things?”

“You’re moving in.” Roman said dismissively, as if it were obvious.

“...What?”

“You’ve been promoted. Or did you forget?” he asked, giving you a look that suggested he was already tired of your questions. “You’ll be staying here, until you either die, or I fire you, or both. Now, be a dear and give Mr. Zsasz your keys, so that he can get your necessities. I’ll have some new clothes ordered for you this afternoon.”

You stared at him for a moment and then looked at Victor. “They’re in my bag down in the dressing room. But--”

Before you had a chance to finish and tell him that this really wasn’t necessary, he was already gone, calling the elevator so that he could obediently go down to the club and rummage through your purse. You had no doubt that he could get into your locker on his own, and as much as you really didn’t want or need him to go to the effort, you weren’t entirely mad about it. Living with Victor--and Roman--didn’t seem like that bad a deal, and if it meant that you’d get to have more fun with Zsasz, you were all in.

“Well, glad that’s settled.” Roman said, sitting back and wiping the edge of his mouth with a fancy little cloth napkin. “Welcome to the Sionis penthouse, Princess.”

#victor zsasz x reader #victor zsasz #zsasz x reader #birds of prey zsasz #bop zsasz #birds of prey x reader #birds of prey #birds of prey imagine #dc imagines #dc x reader

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kayzume · 4 years ago

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Pairing: Iwaizumi (not yet 27, still a student)xClumsy!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Iwa’s hidden irritation

WC: <1k

Artwork by @da-yanaa🤍

Note: I’m not sure what this is🥲, all I know is that half of this is based on a true event(caused by me ofc). This piece is part of the former HQHQ, now Anilysium SFW server collab => HERE!! please check everyone else’s work!!!

PS. Have a wonderful day/night:>

Beta: @vanille--kiss , also another server fwiend except I can’t find them🤍

The exhaustion from running places all day has finally caught with you, and you finally feel like your legs are so numb as they barely want to move.

Your head shot up as you hear the singing of bells signaling a new customer entering the shop, the man stood in all his glory wearing a white and teal tracksuit, only he looked as weary as you are.

He stopped to look around for an empty seat, he walked ever so slowly that the rambunctious bunch behind him shoved him off racing to the empty table.

“Iwa, you’re so slow we’ll go ahead” an overly jolly man said as he tugged on his bag a bit harder while running off.

‘Iwa’ sighed in obvious annoyance,

“Oikawa, shut up” he said in a hard tone

A tap on the counter broke you off your trance,

“Ah, I’m so sorry sir, what will you have today?”

you asked the tall man with broccoli hair, smiling with all you’ve got left. Looking close enough he seems to be with the same crowd as those with the teal tracksuits considering he’s wearing one himself. The continuous snapping of fingers waved you back to reality.

“Oh! I’m sorry, what was that again?” you asked him sheepishly, before he can say another word a man with an almost peach or salmon colored hair slung his arm around him,

“Uhhh I’ll have Thai” the taller man looked at him.

“I was talking.”

“You were just about to, but not really” he replied back to him nonchalantly before leaving,

“Strawberry with fruit jellies, Taro, and that green one” he said pointing at the menu board

“One Matcha, got it. I’ll have your orders served in a few minutes” you smiled at him as he started to walk back to his friends.

You blinked for a few seconds before it hits you that you forgot to ask them about snacks, to be fair they didn’t say anything hence you didn’t ask anything either. Making their drinks was a breeze, you were confident that even though you’re tired to the brim nothing will go wrong.

Only if you weren’t so sure about it.

It was two trips in total, only if it weren’t for the mess in front of you that you instigated yourself,

You were walking to their table when you felt a bit lightheaded as if you’re ready to fall back and sleep, you were a few inches to their table when ‘slip’ you did,

You fell forward without warning as you watched in horror the drink you were just holding flew into the air and onto the lap of one of the customers. The green tea flowed aimlessly from his pants onto the floor.

You scampered on with your feet frantically grabbing a fresh towel from below the counter and wiping away all the while blabbering words of apology that almost seemed like gibberish prayers.

“ImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsor—” you rambled, embarrassment creeping up all the way to the tips of your hair

A gentle yet rough calloused hand tried to help you as you were standing up, saving what would be less than half of the drink you were supposed to serve.

The help didn’t do much though as he was about to hold you back you slipped back from the messy puddle of green on the floor, and you hitting something with your perched up elbows

“Ow,” a wince of pain from behind you made you stumble and stiffly craned your neck behind you, You gasped as you hear roars of laughter and snickers from the other side of the table,

“Oh my Lord, Sir I’m so so so sorry, I-I-I didn’t mean to spill on you and hit you, I’m so sorry” you rambled continuously to the man as a black eye starts to visibly form on his face

“Iwa, I didn’t know you’ll get beaten that easily” a man with fluffed brown hair said while wiping off an imaginary tear

“Iwaizumi, you’re starting to look dumber than before” a second man said, he was that broccoli head that ordered, the man beside him snickering,

Iwaizumi glared at the three of them in an attempt to shut them up but to no avail.

He looked at you next and you flinched from the intense brewing in his chocolate eyes only for them to soften the second he noticed your reaction, he gave you a warm smile and said,

“It’s fine” Iwaizumi’s smile looks genuine despite the fact that he was wincing in pain.

It made you feel guilty as you walk back through the back door to get an ice pack,

“I need to make it up to him,” you thought to yourself determined,

You walked to the table and handing iwaizumi the ice pack and once he had it, you bowed in all 90 degrees glory ultimately hitting your forehead on their table

*BAM*

“Ow” you muttered quietly still bowing, until you felt a warm hand helping you up

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it” Iwaizumi said as he gets a band aid out of his bag pocket, placing it on your reddened forehead,

“But I—” you start,

“It’s fine, but if you really want to make it up to me, how about another cup of this” he said gesturing to his drink,

You nodded your head at him, the little crinkles on his eyes distracted you until his hands were once again placed above your,

“...and a date” he continued, his words slowly made sense to you and you realize that you’re still halted midway,

“Huh” you’re not in protest however, you, the two of you were in fact in the middle of a crowd in a cafe, whistles and applauds snap you both back to reality as iwaizumi also realize that you two were not alone but instead of loosening his hold you he tightened his grip and give you a one eyed sweet smile, he got up along with his teasing friends and left.

You held your hands tightly to your chest, for a second there you were caught by his mesmerizing bravery, despite all that egging he’s getting from his friends

“I knew you liked that cute barista” one even poked fun at him, before they disappeared to the other side of the door,

“Such a man,” you thought, clearing up your throat you cleaned up the table taking cup by cup until you noticed one scribbled with a pen,

‘This is iwa’s contact, I’m sure he’ll forget to give it to you,No need to thank me

—Oikawa;>’

A smile slowly creeped on your face, you mused ‘I guess that date can possibly happen.’

So...yeah,, I’m kinda back??🤡

#hq #hq x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #iwaizumi haijime x reader #iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x y/n #haikyuu iwaizumi #iwaizumi scenarios #iwaizumi fluff #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #kay and fics #hq fanfiction #hq fanfic

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yourstarvic · 4 years ago

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You quickly were knocking the door, aggressively whispering yelling, “Sara! Yui! Open the door! Please!”

After a few more seconds go your knocking, Sara aggressively opened the door. Glaring at you since you woke her up, she whispered yelled at you, “What do you want.”

“Rin and I kissed,” You whispered in panic. Hearing the new information, Sara’s eyes instantly widen and her jaw dropped down in shock. She let out a whisper scream, causing you to do the same as well. “I know,” you whispered back, barging in the room.

“What is going on?” Yui asked, rubbing her eyes as she looked at both of you.

“(Y/n) and Rin kissed,” Sara whispered back, pointing at you as you went to her bed and flopped on it.

“What!” Yui whispered yelled, sitting up from your bed in an alarming manner.

“I know!” Sara said back. As well as you did but in Sara’s pillow. You all then let out an airy yell in panic. “Why are we whispering!” Sara yelled in the middle of the yelling.

“I don’t know,” Yui said in her normal voice. “But what happened (Y/n).”

Taking a deep breath, you got up for the bed and started to pace back and forth in the center of the room. Sara moved to sit next to Yui, both watching you curiously. Taking another deep breath, you stood in front of the two Itachiyama managers. “So um,” you started, “Rin prepared something in the gym… and we were talking…. And then we kissed…”

“We need more detail,” Sara with a creased eyebrow.

“Just tell us about the kiss,” Yui said, not caring about the events before.

“It was so good,” you whimpered, started to describe the details with hand movements. “So, so good! It was slow and passionate but there were times it was rough and fast. As if I died, went to heaven, saw my dead ancestors, said hi to them, and went back down to my body. He just took me! And he was towering over me and putting his body on me but not his whole body, you know?”

“No, I do not,” Yui smirked, looking at you with amusement.

“Where were your hands?” Sara asked, wanting to know me.

“First it was being his neck,” you showed with your hands, “but then it went to his hair. And I kinda tugged on it, but like in a nice, gently, but rough way. And I swear I heard a small moan, but that’s beside the point.”

“Did Suna walk you back to the dorm and kissed you goodbye?” Yui asked.

“What?” You said with a dumbfounded expression.

“(Y/n),” Sara said seriously, “did you left Suna in the gym?”

“W-Well…” you said with a tight lip smile.

“Huh?” They both said in confusion.

“I told him it was time to go to bed…” you gulped.

“…”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I panicked,” you said loudly, “I didn’t know what to do!”

“You could have stayed!” Yui yelled back.

“I know!” You said, “But in my defense, he asked something that I wanted to avoid…”

“Huh?”

“So um… this is what happened…”

“See…” Suna said hoarsely, “That didn’t change anything.”

“Rin…” That was all you could whisper, feeling this thumb slightly tugging on your bottom lip. Your hands trailed down from his face down to his biceps, gripping them. “I-” you started, but couldn’t find the words to say anything.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Suna whispered, slowly opening his eyes. He saw how your hair sprawled around you, your cheeks had a red tint and your lips were slightly swollen from the kiss. “But you do need a breath mint.”

Your eye twitched at his words in anger. You opened your eyes to glare at him, seeing he was smirking down at you. You gripped his arms harder, making him wince in pain. “What…Did…You…Say?” You told him in a dark tone.

“I said,” Suna leaned his head back, taking his hand away from your face and place it on the floor next to your head, “you need a breath mint.”

“You jerk,” you yelled at him. Pushing him off of you and straddling him in a seating position as you hold on to the collar of his shirt. Tugging on it harshly, you winged him back and forth as you yelled at him, “That’s all you have to say! You need a breath mint? You jerk! You can’t say that to someone after having a kiss, an amazing kiss!”

“You think the kiss was amazing?” He smirked, holding your hands to pry them off his shirt.

“I never said that,” you stop tugging on the collar. “I just said kiss.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did.”

The two of you went back and forth at it. And just as a few minutes before, it led to the both of you kissing once again. Letting go of the collar of his shirt, you wrapped your arms around his neck and his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling each other closer.

The two of you clinging to each other, trying to be close to each other as possible. But in-between the kiss, the two of you would mutter small sentences.

“We should stop,” you muttered before you kissed him again.

“We should,” Suna agreed, doing the same as you.

“This is crossing the line.” Kiss.

“It is.” Kiss.

“We really should stop.” Kiss.

“We could.” Kiss.

The two of you did stop after a few moments. Slowly breaking away from his lips, both of you leaned your forehead against each other. “That was…” you trailed off.

“Amazing?” Suna slightly smirked, bring up what you said earlier.

“I hate you.”

“I don’t know,” Suna nudged his nose with yours, “that kiss says differently.”

“Oh please,” you scoffed, leaning back slightly.

“But,” Suna whispered, “does that mean we are dating now?”

“Dating?” You gulped, backing away from him.

“Yeah?” Suna nodded slowly, letting go of your face and put it planted on the floor.

“Like a date, date?” You said, trying to register the events.

“Like a date, date.”

“Boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“Boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“W-With feelings for each other?”

“I mean…” Suna shrugged, “and we figure that out along the way?”

“It’s getting late,” you said with a tight lip. Getting up and looked down at him, seeing you were looking at you with wide eyes, “We should get some sleep since we are leaving tomorrow, goodnight.”

“So um…” You told the two girls with an awkward laugh and finger guns, “that’s what happened.”

“Oh.”

“My.”

“God,” they both said together, looking at you with disbelief.

“Yeah…” You nodded, “Not proud of myself.”

“Well, do you want to be with him?” Sara genuinely asked you.

To which you shrugged your shoulders at her, “I don’t know…”

“How do you not know?” Yui looked at you with disbelief. Standing up from the bed, she walked over to you and grab your shoulders, shaking you, “He is hot! And you know him since you moved to Japan when you were little!”

“I don’t know!” You said as she was shaking you, “I’m confused!”

“There’s nothing to be confused about!” Yui yelled back, “Do you like him or not!”

“Maybe!” You yelled, trying to make Yui stop shaking you, “I’m terrible with figuring out my feelings!”

“What’s his favorite food?” Yui asked, continuing to shake you.

“Fruit jelly sticks!”

“What does he love to do?”

“Take naps!”

“What his favorite color?”

“Black!”

“Do you like him?”

“Yes!”

Right when you answer her question, you looked at her in shock. She stopped shaking you, giving you a mischievous smile. “Wait,” you started.

“I knew it!” Yui yelled triumphantly.

“I-It was in a friendly way!” You tried to explain.

“You like him!” Yui teased you.

“Shut up,” Sara said coldly to the both of you, cause you to tense at her voice. “You’re yelling and we could get it trouble.”

“S-Sorry,” You and Yui said shyly.

“But anyway,” Sara sighed, giving you a smile, “it’s clear you like him, (Y/n). Base on your disruption of the kiss and that you kissed him twice is a sign.”

“But-”

“No buts,” Sara said firmly. “I know you are confused. Think about your feelings for him and talk to him. In the meantime, go to bed. You are leaving back to Hyogo tomorrow, and you need your rest.”

Letting out a sigh in defeat, you nodded your head. You thanked them for listening o you and bid them goodnight as you left. You went back to your room, making sure to stay quiet went inside your room. Laying inked, you stared at the ceiling, trying to think bout the events. Gently placing your fingertip on your lips as you thought of the kiss.

Does he have a feeling for me? Do I have feelings for him? I thought he wanted me with Osamu? Why did he say that if he said the kiss didn't mean anything...

Meanwhile….

“Why did I say that,” Suna muttered, feeling the embarrassment crawling all over his body. He now laid in his bed, already done cleaning up in the gym and returning the projector to Komori. With his hands covering his eyes, Suna let out a whine, review the events of tonight.

Why did I kiss her? Did she kiss me?

“I’ll talk to her tomorrow about it,” Suna whispered. “Besides… it won’t change us… Even if I did ask her out…”

Yeah… Talk to her….

MASTERPOST-PREV-NEXT

FUN FACTS:

Suna and Osamu would play pranks on Atsumu and see who can get him to blow up first.

A guy once tried confessed to (Y/n). It was before practice started in the gym where everyone could watch. He wanted to seem bold and confident but everyone on the team was glaring at him he ended up running out of the gym.

Aran, Kita, Omimi, and Akagi would study together.

No one knows that (Y/n) moved to Japan when she was a baby, expect for Suna, Kita, and Aran. Everyone else thinks she was born in Japan.

Atsumu once told a dirty joke to (Y/n) thinking she would find it funny since everyone thought it was funny, including Kita. She didn't didn’t show up to practice until she thought about the joke when she was studying and laughed.

Every Valentines day and White day, everyone on the team would have a competition on who would get the most chocolates and confessions. Kita and (Y/n) share the number one spot. Aran is second followed by Suna. Osamu and Atsumu are tied for fourth place.

Notes: There are almost 300 notes on the masterpost! Thank y'all so much!!! I love y'all and I’m so glad you guys are liking it!!! Stay safe, stay warm, and don't forget to drink water!

TAGLIST: @thelochtessmonster99 @freaksnque @bloody-bella @girlyluke @tendo-sxtori @angels17324 @madmelle @tiktikty-tokity-spagetti @helloalex80 @fandomatakeover18 @mus1caln0tes@kac-chowsballs @satoriluver @bbdaydreams @hi-im-a-bat @circusjanreblogs @420-uwu @sakusaakiyoomii @erinoikawa

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vs-redemption · 4 years ago

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Omg can I get scenarios about how you think Fatgum and Mirio would react if they found out that their crush thought they didn’t like them?? 😭😭 ty!!!!! ❤️

From Cindy: Wowzer! I really liked this request but it took me a couple days to get some ideas worked out in my head. I’m happy with the way they turned out, and I hope you are too anon!!

A Crush?! (Fatgum x Reader) and (Mirio x Reader)

FATGUM

When Taishiro Toyomitsu first opened his hero agency in the lively city of Osaka, his first priority had been to hire a cook to work there. Because his quirk relied heavily on the amount of fat stored up in his body, it was important to have a constant source of food available. Snacks and small meals between and during patrols did little to keep him fully powered, so finding someone who could meet his extreme dietary needs was of the upmost importance.

The first few people he’d brought onto his team hadn’t worked out so well. Even though he had no complaints about their food, they just couldn’t seem to keep up with his immense appetite. They got too caught up in the presentation, plus the portions were just too small. When the BMI hero finally hired you right out of culinary school, he was relieved to find your approach to his food conundrum much more satisfying.

He never had to worry about going hungry when he got into his agency anymore. Not only did you made sure there was plenty of food readily available for him, but you also kept his diet balanced with healthy foods that contained enough calories to fatten him up for his patrols. The food itself kept Taishiro’s stomach happy and full, but the effort and care you put into your work definitely started having an effect on his heart too after a while. Your dedication to keeping him in top shape drew his attention until he found himself starting to look forward more to seeing and talking to you than even eating your delicious food.

Taishiro wasn’t the type to lie to himself about his feelings. He knew perfectly well that he’d developed a little crush on you. He wasn’t exactly sure how to go about confessing though, or if he even should. His schedule didn’t leave much time for dating, and he didn’t want to start something if he wasn’t going to be able to dote on you the way he was starting to desperately want to.

Little did he know, on the other side of things, you were struggling to deal with the feelings you had for him too. You had always thought your boss was a nice guy, but after seeing his jolly and friendly behavior every day, you couldn’t help the crush that had creeped up on you. You tried your best to put it out of your mind, assuming there was no way a great hero like Taishiro could return your feelings. It wasn’t as if he did anything to make you feel otherwise. He was as kind and encouraging to you as anyone else you’d seen him interact with. It was just that you knew the nature of your job made your personality come off a bit too overbearing to really spark a romance. You constantly berated yourself after each and every interaction you had with him, physically cringing as you remembered the nagging comments you’d made.

“I know you need the calories for your quirk, Taishiro, but don’t forget to eat some fruits and vegetables too.”

“Eat another bowl of rice, Taishiro. You never know when you’ll need that little extra push when fighting a villain.”

“Taishiro, don’t forget to take the leftovers with you in case you get hungry out there! It’s better for you than all that street food you’re always picking up on patrol.”

When you thought about it, you really pestered him way too much. Sure, it was your job to feed him, but still, he was a grown man. He didn’t need you bothering or lecturing like he was some kind of kid. The only reason you even acted the way you did was because you cared and worried about him, but how it came across was probably annoying and patronizing. This is why you were confident he’d never like you the way you liked him.

Eventually, the combination of your feelings for him and the concern over his impression of you becomes too much and you decide to confront him. You get to the agency early one day and make him some fresh jelly filled donuts.

“Hey! You hardly ever make stuff like this!” Taishiro chuckles, “What’s the occasion?”

“It’s my way of saying thank you for putting up with me,” you shrug awkwardly. “I know I’m a bit of a nag sometimes.” Your words take the hero by surprise.

“I don’t think you’re a nag at all!” He sounded upset to hear you say that. “I hope I never gave you the idea that I did.”

“No,” you shake your head. “You didn’t… I just figured you were nice to me just to be polite.”

“What?” Taishiro shakes his head, “You couldn’t be further from the truth. If I’m being honest, I’ve actually developed quite the soft spot for you.” You look up into his eyes, a feeling of hope spreading through you.

“Yeah,” Taishiro laughs and scratches the back of his head bashfully. “I guess you could say I have a bit of a crush on you.” The conversation had definitely taken an unexpected turn, and you couldn’t be happier.

“I…” You hesitate for a moment but then give in. “I have a crush on you too! I have for a while. I never dreamed you could feel the same way.” The smile that stretched across the hero’s face warmed your heart.

“How could I not feel the same way?” He chuckles while patting his large belly. “I’ve never met anyone else who could keep both my stomach and my heart so full.” His words were music to your ears. And now that you both were on the same page about your feelings, you could sit down together and start discussing important questions about the future, like where he was going to take you on your first date.

MIRIO

Getting a job as a server at the mundane little diner on the outskirts of town had only meant to be a temporary gig to help you save up some extra money for school. Your campus was just a short train ride from the restaurant, and your apartment was even closer. It wasn’t glamorous or anything, but it paid the bills. Besides, it was just a stepping stone in the path to your dream job, so you were more than willing to deal with it until a bigger more fulfilling opportunity came along.

What you hadn’t expected after starting the job was that you’d be terrible at it. You didn’t realized how bad your short term memory was until you found yourself forgetting people’s orders, or taking meals to the wrong tables. If that wasn’t bad enough, you also had a hard time balancing plates of food and were always dropping glasses and silverware accidentally. Luckily, your boss was a pretty chill and forgiving person and hadn’t felt the need to fire you yet. You really didn’t want to go through the trouble of finding another job, so you continued doing the best you could each and every day.

A few weeks after being hired, you started to feel the tiniest bit more confident about your abilities as a server. At the very least, you were getting better at remembering orders. Thankfully, there were a lot of regulars that got the same things every time which made your job easier. You were just starting to get into a comfortable routine when life decided to throw you a curveball. There was no way you could stop yourself from tripping over your own feet and almost spilling some poor customers breakfast all over the floor when you saw the pro hero, Le Million, walk into the diner with one of his hero friends. Thankfully you managed not to fall on your face or drop any food. Your relief was short lived, however, when Le Million walked right over and took a seat at a table in your section.

You knew it was going to be a disaster as soon as you walked over and forgot what you should even do. Being so close to Le Million was triggering a meltdown in your brain. He was your favorite hero and you honestly had a huge crush on him. Having him looking right at you with those cheerful blue eyes and wide friendly smile was extremely overwhelming.

“Uh…” You stood there blankly with the pen and pad in your hand.

“I think we’re going to start with something to drink!” Le Million speaks up with a light laugh which sparks you back to life.

“Ok, right!” you shake your head and try to focus. “What’ll you have?”

“I’ll have coffee,” he says before gesturing to his companion. “I think you usually take hot green tea right?” The friend nods so you write the order down.

“A hot green tea and a coffee for Le Million,” you mumble without meaning to.

“Oh, I’m on my lunch break!” he corrects you with a grin. “So, you can call me Mirio.”

“Right,” you nod excitedly. “Mirio”

You do your best to function as you continue to serve him. You somehow bring black tea instead of green, but Mirio just waves off the mistake with a wave of his hand. You swear you write down the correct order for him word for word, but humiliation consumes you when his friend points out that there were tomatoes on his hamburger even though he’d asked for none. You offer to bring him a new plate but he tells you it’s unnecessary. He doesn’t even pick off the tomatoes before taking a huge bite.

When Mirio and his friend finally leave, you feel yourself deflate. You were thankful the embarrassing experience was over, but part of you wished you’d made a better impression. The universe must’ve been out for you because the next day, it decided to grace you with a second chance. Mirio walked back into your diner with his friend, taking the same table as the day before. You tried to do a better job at serving him this time but you still fumbled a few things. This continued for a few weeks. For some reason, Mirio kept coming back and sitting in your section. You had no idea why since he must be sick of your horrible service by now. You tried to think of a logical explanation for a while, but always came up empty.

“Um, Mirio,” you tell him one day as he hands you the money to pay for his bill. “I know I’m not the best server in the world, so you don’t have to sit in my section every time.”

“But then I wouldn’t get to talk to you!” Mirio replies instantly, looking taken aback by your words.

“Oh,” you hadn’t expected a response like that. “But I always mess up your order.”

“That’s all right!” Mirio perks back up, “As long as you keep doing your best, that’s what matters! Plus, I’ve been sort of biding my time, looking for the right moment to ask for your number. I think you’re really cute.” He winces a little bit as if preparing for rejection. The confession startles you and you somehow end up missing his hand while giving back his change, causing coins to scatter across the counter. Mirio just smiles and helps you pick it all up.

“I can really give you my number?” you ask in shock once the money is back in his hands.

“Yeah!” He assures you, “As long as I’m allowed to call it!” You felt yourself blush, but managed to stay calm enough to grab a napkin and scribble your number down. Mirio thanked you before heading out with his hero friend to go back on patrol. It was less than a minute later when your phone buzzed in your pocket with a message from your hero crush.

It said, “I can’t wait to see you again tomorrow!”

You’re still in a state of shock as you hug your phone to your chest. You’d initially taken the diner job as a way to save money for school, but maybe fate had brought you here for something else entirely.

#mirio x reader #fatgum x reader #taishiro toyomitsu x reader #bnha x reader #mha x read #togata mirio #Taishiro Toyomitsu #bnha #mha #writing requests #cindy's writing

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orionwhispers · 4 years ago

Text

Tear In My Heart // Alfie Solomons

(A/N - hehe im back. im working on a bucky oneshot and a tommy series but both of them are super long and i wanted to take a little breather. this was supposed to be a drabble but you know me... ive got a few more ideas for shorter imagines like this with tommy and alf, requests are open! hope you enjoy. pls reblog and comment. love u see u soon xoxxo - also this is like the smuttiest thing ive written even though its not explicit but wow who am i)

warnings: violence, mention of fights and blood, protective alfie, heavily implied smut, lots of terrible language.

You knew something was wrong when Ollie practically crashed through the door. He took off part of the frame and made the hinges tear from the wood, nails and screws clattering onto the ground. The afternoon had been wonderful, perhaps too wonderful, and as always, real life found a way to shatter your rose tinted glasses.

It was starting to fall into autumn, the air chilly but comfortable, the streets slick with rain and the leaves turning into a sweet, buttery caramel all around you. The house was silent save for the birds singing in the trees and the rattling whip of the wind against your windows. The quiet was a perk of having house out in the country, far away from anything and anyone. Just the way he liked it.

Because to him, all he needed was his girl.

Well, and his dog.

The sun had barely risen when you got up - much to your husbands protests. You felt him stirring from beside you, a solid wall of warmth as he snaked his arms around your waist and pressed sleepy, half drunk kisses onto your spine. You laughed tiredly as his hands curled over everything they could reach, long calloused fingers roaming against your bare skin. He grumbled as you swung your legs from under the duvet and onto the floor, throwing on his white cotton shirt and letting it fall to your knees, trying to ignore the threats he was mumbling about what he was going to do to your boss for making you come in so early.

He made one last feeble attempt to grab you, exhaustion clouding his brain so he could do no more than swipe at the top of your thigh, making you laugh at his wandering hands.

“Stay.” He said, voice raspy and muffled by his pillow.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

“Alf.” You sighed playfully, grabbing your strawberry slip dress and beaded heels and fur coat, darting into the bathroom to wash up and change. Through the noise of the running water you could hear the bed springs creak as he shifted, the entire frame groaning almost as much as him. Cyril watched you with his big chestnut eyes from the doorway as you fluffed up your hair and patted on coffee coloured lipstick, pinching the apples of your cheeks for a little flush.

You rummaged through your handbag as you made your way to the bedroom door, lost in your thoughts until you heard him speak, all low and gravelly and sending shivers up your spine.

“Oi. C’mere you.”

You rolled your eyes but walked into his outstretched arms, his body completely slumped and covered in thick duvets and pillows, just his tattooed skin and coarse, tousled hair poking out from underneath. He pulled you close into him, smelling like green apples and rum and sex and sea salt, like home. He mumbled something that you couldn’t quite make out, the sun starting to shine through the cracks in the curtains and as you started to get up he tugged you in tighter, placing messy, sloppy kisses down your throat and onto your collarbones.

You smacked his shoulder, grabbing his jaw and holding it still, placing a kiss on his lips, feeling him smile against your mouth.

“Bye, my love.”

“Hmph.”

You made it halfway down the hall before you heard: “Fred is driving you. Don’t even bloody think about walking alone at this time.” Followed by grunts and groans and finally deep, throaty snores.

———————————————————-

You accompanied your boss to a few meetings, taking notes and helping him check stock. After a few hours filled with cinnamon lattes and finger cramps and ink stains, he took you aside at the office and gave you the rest of the day off. You were a little suspicious, and had a feeling his good deed might have had something to do with your slightly intimidating husband, but you accepted it nonetheless and headed to Camden after lunch.

The air was brisk and you pulled your scarf tighter around your throat, dodging puddles and fat droplets of rain as they dropped from the trees. You stopped off at a little cafe on your side of town, buying turkey sandwiches, a garden salad and a platter of seasonal fruit, ignoring the fried sugar donuts and sausage rolls and thick, crispy cuts of bacon. A routine check up to the doctor had lead to Alfie being told that perhaps a healthier lifestyle would benefit some of his ailments, so despite his grumbling and childish ways you were doing your best to make sure he was eating his five a day - no matter how much he protested.

But at the last second you grabbed a cherry jam donut. His favourite.

The rain had become torrential by the time you left, the clouds morphing into a block of ashen, sooty grey, teetering on black. Once upon a time the impending storm would have made you feel nervous, the rattling trees and flashes of lightning had been the reason for many sleepless nights when you were a child, but now you looked forward to it.

Because now it meant something different. You, Alfie and Cyril curled up in bed, the fire roaring and flickering a brilliant orange gold. Your husbands arms tight around you, squeezing softly every time there was a clap of thunder, his kisses warm and protective across your throat, knowing that he’d never let anything hurt you. Drinking tea spiked with rum and playing cards, listening to the rain against the windows, feeling the white burst of lighting every time it struck the sky. Falling asleep next to each other, Alfie always waiting for you to doze off first, unable to sleep unless he knew you were alright.

You had once hated storms, and now you wished for them.

Your umbrella was totally battered by the time you got to the bakery. The bottom of your dress was damp from puddles and your shoes were on their last legs, the satin ruined and black with mud, but you didn’t care, walking through the side entrance with a smile bigger than the moon. A few of the old boys saw you instantly, straightening up and grinning at you, welcoming you with whisky soaked aprons and calloused hands. Back when you and Alfie started dating he had all but forbidden his staff from looking, talking, or even thinking about you, but over the years you had formed a close relationship with his workers - something about your warmth and light easing up the darkness. At first Alfie huffed and puffed about it a little, but he couldn’t exactly blame his men for loving you - he was a perfect example of how you brought a strong man to his knees after all.

“Is he upstairs?” You asked George, one of the distillers. As soon as he nodded you left, your heels clicking against the cool basement flooring. You didn’t bother knocking as you approached the big, intimidating door to his office, instead just grabbing the brass lion head knob and twisting it, hearing the hinges whine in protest.

“What the fuck?” His voice was as deep and rumbling as a low tide, his tone so dark and sharp that it might have scared you, if you didn’t know him as the man who fed the ducks fresh bread at the park and cuddled Cyril when the vets had to give him an injection. “How many fucking times do I have to ask you lot to fucking knock. I mean it’s a - ”

He stopped short when he saw you, eyes going wide and lips twitching upwards just a little. He slipped into business mode whenever he sat at the leather chair behind his desk, but you always managed to chip away at his foundation.

“What the bloody hell are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too.” You laughed, walking around his desk to see him, his legs naturally opening to let you stand in between them, his eyes following every curve and line of your face, settling on the natural rosebud flush of your lips.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” He mused, ring clad fingers darting around your waist and pulling you in. He toyed with the buttons on your dress and the jewellery around your neck, his fingers rough and large and as hot as a fire. His day had been shitty so far, but seeing the sparkle in your eyes and the loose curl of your hair had made everything much, much better.

“Hmm.” You said, leaning into his touch, batting away his hand as it slipped somewhere a little too low. “Marcus gave me the afternoon of so I thought I would come and surprise you.”

He blinked up at you, all wistful and love drunk and making your knees turn into blackcurrant jelly. “Did you now?”

“Yep.” You smiled, brushing your nose against his before pulling back and teasingly shaking the paper bag of baked goods in your hand. “And I bought gifts.”

“Yeah. Yeah. In a minute.” He barely registered them, instead dragging you into him, pressing kisses to your lips and letting you wash away any thoughts from his brain, not stopping until he was totally, completely drowning in you.

——————————————————-

That was how you ended up cross legged on the sofa, devouring your new novel and sipping on the rose and oolong tea Alfie kept in the cupboard for when you visited the factory. You could hear the rain pattering down the windows around you, mixed with the scratch of Alfie’s fountain pen and the sound of him rifling through his papers. It was fun to watch him as well as listen to him, the way his eyebrows raised when he read something he didn’t like, the twitch of his nose and the way that he ran his fingers through the coarse hair of his beard, moulding it to a peak at the bottom of his chin.

He watched you as well. When you got so into your book that your brows furrowed and your nose wrinkled. The way your hair was loose and wild, your stockings a soft pink under the stormy sky, your eyes wide and frantic, desperate to read as much as you could. He smiled at the way your leg bounced, how you tried to pick the stems from your strawberries with one hand but then accidentally squished them, the juice running down your wrist. He especially liked the way you were using his winter coat as a blanket, drowning in the fabric like a child, the collar snug around your chin.

Everything was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

You heard Ollie before you saw him, the crash of his laced black boots thundering up the stairs, the way that he collided with the door rather than opening it first. You and Alfie stood up at the same time, his eyes immediately darting to you, gesturing for you to get behind him.

“Eric’s here.” Was all the boy said, and you watched the colour drain from Alfie’s face.

“Eric?” You said, “Eric Martin?”

Your question lingered in the air as the two men walked around one another, gesturing wildly and talking under their breath; Alfie completely frantic and flustered. You had only heard of Alfie’s new business partner in passing, the two of them had spent the better part of a year talking through agreements and shipments and trying to manoeuvre a deal where the two of them could co exist happily - Alfie’s rum and Eric’s stolen goods sharing a boat so that the city checks would be easier. Alfie had never been particularly quite when it came to business. He liked to include you and get your opinion on things, he trusted you most of all anyway, but he had been secretive when it came to Eric.

You had heard through Ollie and rumours at the club and whispers in the factory that this “Eric” was a man not to be trifled with. Apparently he was unpredictable and violent, and he belonged to one of the major crime gangs in Cambridge. None of this scared you though, many people thought the exact same of the man you shared your bed with, and you knew a side of him that nobody else saw. The gossip was barbed and cruel though. They said he was conniving and underhanded, and that his last two wives had been admitted to hospital with broken and fractured bones.

So Alfie tried cutting him out as much as he could, never wanting to say his name or talk about him in the safety of his home, not with you around. Your home was his solace, and he wouldn’t taint his life with you in blood red - you were too important. You never thought much of it, but watching his reaction, his sudden overprotectiveness and stern frown and rattled demeanour, made you just a little bit frightened.

“What the fuck does he want?” Alfie snapped, pulling your coat over your shoulders frantically and starting to button it up, then helping you tug on your boots and lace them.

“He’s pissed about the Brighton shipment, he says his liquor didn’t get there on time.”

“Stupid fucking...” Alfie’s voice trailed off like smoke, something downstairs on the factory floor clattering loudly followed by distinct, angry shouts. “We told him it was too risky with the police there, he should have fucking listened. We were due a meeting next week, tell him to fuck off and come back then.”

“He won’t listen.”

“Make him.”

“I...” He started, but Alfie cut him off again, standing next to you and taking your face in his large, calloused hands.

“Right, pet. Stay here for a little bit, and when it clears up, Ollie will take you out the back, alright?”

“Alfie...” You started to protest, before exhaling and sighing as he turned to his protégée.

“You got that, Ol? Nothing is to happen to her.”

You were getting a little hot with being ordered around, but the visible anxiety swimming across their faces like the midnight sea was enough for you to close your mouth. Instead of agreeing with his boss, Ollie shook his head, sucking on his lower lip as he tried to think of a way to convey the sincerity of the situation.

“He’s really angry, Alfie. You need to go down, now. Before he decides to come up.”

“Yeah, alright.”

Your fingers clenched, and you darted out to tug on the edge of his sleeve before he left.“Alfie. Please be careful.”

There was a smog of anxiety in your stomach and warning signs ringing like alarms in your mind as he pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head, his lips brushing your hairline. You chewed on the edge of your lip as he left, and you wondered how your blissful afternoon had turned into this: your body shaking with nerves as your husband descended down the stairs and into the belly of the beast.

Ollie reached out and touched your shoulder, trying to help you feel calm but his face was the colour of tepid dishwater, paling by the second.

“He’ll be fine.”

You crossed all of your fingers and toes.

———————————————————————

About twenty minutes passed, and the shouting had gone from ear piercingly loud to a low hum, which you found oddly comforting despite everything. You watched as Ollie fiddled with his pocket watch, the two of you waiting until it was safe to head downstairs.After a moment you heard the sound of the giant metal door opening, the one right at the front where the workers came in and the bakery goods were delivered, a clear indication from Alfie that Eric was leaving.

Ollie leapt up and smiled faintly at you, edging you towards the door as you swung your handbag across your chest. You scoffed a little as you walked, turning to face him.

“If Eric is gone, why can’t I stay?”

Ollie merely rolled his eyes, his hand migrating to your lower back as he all but pushed you forward. You might have been able to get away with ignoring Alfie’s orders, but he certainly wouldn’t. “You know Alfie won’t want you here after that. There’s no use fighting him about it, he’ll want you back at home.”

You sighed but conceded, allowing yourself to be guided down the staircase. At least at home you could distract yourself and have Cyril with you, his big treacle eyes were the perfect remedy to a bad day.

You were right beside the back door and ready to leave when you heard a voice cracking like thunder from behind you, something as sharp as a knife and as loud as a church bell. You both froze instantly, every nerve in your body feathering, your heart aching to know that Alfie was alright.

“You little fucking liar.” Cut around the room like barbed wire. “How long were you planning on hiding this shipment from me?” There was another crash, and you could hear liquid trickling and dribbling into a puddle, followed by the sweet, sour smell of alcohol.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re on about mate.” It was Alfie speaking now, his voice lowered to a dangerous octave, and you could picture the lightning like anger on his face. “Calm down.”

“Calm down? Calm down? You’ve been sending things off without my knowledge!”

“I said. Fucking calm down.” The sound of a hand slamming down on wood, as fierce as a slap on the face. “You don’t want to make an enemy of me.”

There was another scuffle: rapid footsteps on the floor, the crack of knuckles and the smell of ash. A couple of the boys darted in from the other room, their shirts untucked and hands turning red. You watched them curiously, stepping forward on unsteady heels to try and pinpoint the commotion. You felt Ollie's hand reach for you but you leapt out of his grasp, at the same time a body flew from the next room and landed in a heap next to barrels of aged rum and whisky, the wood heaving from the strain.

You glanced at the man on the floor, his body oddly contorted, his bald head glistening with sweat and his body reeking of putrid alcohol and cigarettes. This was obviously Eric. Your eyes widened in disgust at the drunk, violent man taking swings at whoever he could, wanting nothing more than to get away from him. You saw Alfie emerge from the shadows, his gaze flitting straight to you, his hands swollen and his face flushed with visible anger at the man sprawled on the ground.

Before you could retreat, Eric’s wide, black eyes landed on you, practically bulging out of his head with adrenaline and anger and excitement. “ You know, Alfie.” He asked through bubbles of saliva, scrambling to his feet as best he could, lunging for you. You saw Alfie and a few of his best men move forward, hands ready like cocked guns to strike if they needed to. Eric ignored them, wanting to pack as many fatal blows in whilst he had the chance. “Everybody at the club talks about your little whore of a wife, Solomon’s.”

The room fell deadly silent. His words didn’t affect you at all, but you felt a pool of dread settle in your gut and you stepped backwards, warning him with your eyes. He was at the back of the room, but you could still feel the anger vibrating from your husband, and you heard him smack his lips as he tried to calm himself down.

Eric ignored your alarmed glare, spitting onto the concrete and looking you up and down with pure disgust and shameless lust. “You know that people only do business with you to get to her?”

“Don’t. You. Fuck - ” Alfie’s boots thundered like a stampede, his voice as dark and raspy as midnight, his words sharpened like butchers knives.

“Maybe I’ll have a go at her. Maybe it’ll teach you a little respect. If I have a go at that smug little whore and slap her around a little and....”

He didn’t finish his sentence, Alfie’s cane smashing against the side of Eric’s head with enough momentum to send his teeth flying, small milky white canines lying a few feet in front of you in a pool of sticky blood. He made some kind of noise from on the floor, his hands coming up to protect what was left of his face, his polished shoes desperately trying to grip onto something to help him up. There was a second hit. And then a third. Each accompanied by ear splitting cries, and the sound of flesh against stone.

“Don’t you ever, ever, speak about my wife like that again.” You could just about make out Alfie from the darkness, his silhouette mighty and terrifying, leaning over the shattered body on the floor, filled with a hatred that seemed to overpower him.

“I - ” Eric tried to speak but only blood pooled from his mouth, his body weakened and damaged from the attack. He tried to cover himself with his hands but failed, another ear piercing crack echoing around the room.

You lunged forward, wanting to stop your husband before he went too far. “Alfie! Stop! You’re going to kill him!”

He blinked up at you, his pupils swallowed by black. His gaze lowered from you onto the wailing man on the ground, his words playing on a loop in his brain, digging their nails in every time the record restarted.

He had said those evil things about you.

He glanced at Ollie, finally opening his mouth to speak. “Take her home.”

You struggled in Ollie’s grip, desperate to see your husband and knock some sense into him. Your heart hung heavy in your chest, equal parts terrified that he would either end up hurt or in a more dangerous situation than the one he was already in. You fought hard but Ollie’s hold was tighter, his fingers squeezing you tightly. He tried to be kind but forceful as he pulled you out into the alley, your heard turned back to face your husband, watching as him and the shadow on the floor faded to a dull, awful, obsidian.

—————————————-

You were certain you were going to make holes in the wood. You had been pacing back and forth the living room floor for almost an hour, and Cyril had abandoned his mission of trying to cheer you up, and instead watched you protectively and cautiously from his wicker basket beside the sofa.

You had chewed your sunshine yellow nails down to the wick, and your heart hadn’t stop thumping since you had left the warehouse. Ollie had left you to your thoughts, keeping watch outside to make sure nothing harmed you, and also that you didn’t harm somebody else.

Dealing with hysterical women wasn’t really his forte.

There had been no word from Alfie since you had left, and so you watched the teal wall phone endlessly, hoping that it would ring and you would know he was alright. You were greeted with nothing but ice cold silence, and so you resumed your pacing, biting down on the skin of your thumb until you could taste blood.

Right before you were about to lose all control and demand Ollie take you to see him, you heard the crunch of the gravel outside, and saw lemon headlights flash against the wall. Cyril’s head lifted quickly, and his tail began to thump, but your feet turned to concerted and you were unable to do anything other than wait.

You were as still as a spectre as you stood facing the door, your body prickling with anxiety and adrenaline. A car - you assumed Ollie’s - coughed and spluttered over the rocks and into the road, leaving you alone with Alfie. You heard the key in the lock, practically felt the metal ridges running over your spine as he pulled and twisted and finally came inside, the sky a gloomy, smoky grey, rain falling so harshly it was almost hail.

He was shaped so strongly, his figure so barbed and brawny and beautiful. You felt totally mortal beside a man like him, and he looked even more so like a God when you saw him under the icy white lamp light in the hall.

He was covered in blood. Soaked in it, really. It was matted in his hair and in ugly brown splotches across his once pristine shirt and under his fingernails and smeared across his boots in a shade of red you had never seen before. It was obvious he had tried to clean himself up judging from the uneven patches and water marks, but he had given up, deciding to risk everything and drive through the streets like an abattoir worker, just so he could see you as quickly as he could.

You let out some kind of noise and stepped forward, he caught you effortlessly, the way that he always would.

“Alfie.” You said, wide eyed and innocent and good, and he felt like a sinner holding something so angelic in his arms.

“I’m alright. I’m alright.”

There was blood in his beard, and a plum sided bruise turning nightshade on his upper arm. “Oh God, Alf.”

He shook his head, pulling you in and smelling the orange and cinnamon of your shampoo and the vanilla perfume on your neck and felt the softness of your hair and the curves of your body. The day had been bad. It had started so wonderfully and ended up shattered and splintered into something so awful and malevolent, and now there was nothing he wanted except you, his home.

“We need to - ” You started, but he frowned, his arms engulfing you and tugging you in. He pressed his lips to whatever flesh he could find, open mouthed and desperate, sucking and biting and aching for you.

“No. No.” He whispered into your neck, his voice so small and desperate that your heart throbbed. “I need you, my love.”

You knew what he wanted. How we got when he was like this. Touch starved. Greedy. Insatiable. How he wanted nothing else but the feel of you under him, the weight of your ribs and the feel of your body and love consuming him until nothing was left. Fuck his back and his cane, he needed to claim you and mark you and show you just how badly he needed you. He needed to find religion at the alter of your pliant, yearning body. Show you how much he loved you on the cold kitchen tiles with the rain casting grey shadows and his lips biting your own as the thunder clapped above.

————————-

The tap was still leaking.

Alfie had promised to fix it weeks ago and yet it still dribbled lukewarm water continuously, you didn’t mind for once though, the soft noise it made as it bounced into the water was somewhat calming.

His legs around you were as thick as tree trunks and covered in curly, coarse hair. His arms were tight around you, and you played with the jewels on his fingers as you both relaxed, letting the hot steam cover you both. You were cradled in front of him despite your instance that his back would hurt and it would cause more harm than good. He simply got in the water and dragged you on top of him, letting the pink bath salts do their job.

You hadn’t really spoken since you’d made love like teenagers on the kitchen floor. Afterwards, he tugged you on top of him and held you close, the two of you skin to skin, letting your pulses synch and breathing calm all whilst he stayed warm and throbbing inside of you. Needing to be joined with you for as long as he could.

Then you ran a bath and filled it with all of the expensive lotions and potions you had stockpiled. Cherry and rose and sweet mint and chocolate and lime, things that might have clashed but would easily cover the smell of sweat and sex and thick, coppery blood. The two of you sat in the water, not speaking but filled with love, despite all of the unspoken tension in the air.

You felt him shift behind you. His huge body sent water and bubbles lapping wildly over the tub edge, coating the floor in marshmallow pink. You giggled softly, and the sweet, angelic noise gave Alfie the final push to tell you everything.

“I know what you want to ask me.”

“Hmm?” You murmured, letting round, iridescent bubbles fall through the cracks in your fingers, knowing exactly what he was about to say but feigning innocence anyway.

“You want to know if I killed him.”

You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t need to, he continued anyway.

“I did.”

The bathroom fell silent again and Alfie could feel you stiffen under him. You knew from the moment he swung his cane across Eric’s head that he would be buried six feet by the end of the day, but it still hit you like a punch to the windpipe to hear the words aloud.

“Does that bother you?” He asked after a moment, the words thick and raspy, as though they had been stuck in his throat like congealed honey.

“I’m not sure.” You said finally.

It was the truth. You weren’t sure.

You knew he had killed people before. You knew what the war had made him do, what it had turned him into. You weren’t stupid, either. You knew that he often came home with dirt under his nails and blood splattered on his boots and that glazed look in his eyes that made your stomach tie itself in knots. You knew because you had been there through it all, cleaning him up and disinfecting his wounds, talking him down when the memories of gunshots and trenches got too loud, listening to him tell you all of the secrets that lingered in his mind like flies around a carcass.

But if you were being honest, you didn’t care that he had killed. You never judged Alfie or his choices, you understood the way his brain worked and how he made his decisions. Most of the men had been awful. Abusers and violent thieves and con men with dirty intentions. This was the business you had signed up for when you fell for the six foot man with questionable morals but a heart of solid gold. There was no way you were turning your back on him now.

It wasn’t murder that scared you, it was the possible repercussions that led you to sleepless nights and bloody, bitten lips. You were terrified that one day everything would catch up to him, and it would be your husband that ended up in a coffin. He was so powerful and dangerous and magnificent, but he wasn’t invincible.

You were about to say as much but he continued, the water sloshing around the two of you. “Don’t let it bother you. I’d do it again. Kill a fucking million men if I had to. If anyone talks about you like that - if they even think it. They’re gone. Bloody scum. The lot of ‘em.”

You sighed, shifting up and grabbing his hand under the water. You rubbed circles across his palm, conveying your love through actions. “I don’t want to be the reason you have blood on your hands.”

“I’m a big lad right, I can make my own decisions.”

“I know you are Alf, but you know how I worry.”

“Listen to me, right.” He muttered, the candles flickering clementine, his fingertips pressing gently onto the bare flesh of your hip. He cleared his throat, feeling the rise and fall of your chest against his belly. “After the war I had nothing - and then I met you and fuck me you changed everything.”

He paused, reminiscing internally about how you met and your early dates, thinking of toffee kisses and giddy, pure love and fucking in back alleys and winter walks and finally feeling something after the war had shot everything right out of him. “And you are my wife. I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

You tugged on his big toe, making him wince and playfully hit you, the air lightened just a little bit, but enough so that the two of you could breathe. “I don’t care that you killed them, Alf. I never have. But God, if something were to happen to you! What if the police start looking? What if...”

A million fucked up scenarios of your beloved in silver cuffs and a bullet in his head made you feel completely nauseous, but he held you tight, grounding you back to reality.

“I’m not going anywhere. And for the cops - they should be thanking me. Got rid of a lot of nasty criminals without them getting their hands dirty.” He pressed kisses to the back of your neck, the tip of your spine, the crook of your ear. “I promise you, my love, everything will be alright.”

The future was uncertain, but you knew that when you married him. Some days were just bad.

Clouded in darkness and tinged with blood and rust. Your relationship had always been a little unconventional, a little rough around the edges and at times, like a small wooden boat on a rough sea. But despite everything your love had been unwavering, as solid as a steel, the kind of dreamy infatuation that people longed for. For every bad day and every fight and every knot that wound itself in your belly - there was also so much good. Sleepy kisses and pillow talk and sharing the parts of yourself that no one else saw. A language without words, the safety of his arms, the home in your hips, domestic mornings and a love that could last through anything.And in that moment, with the storm starting to ease and the sky starting to lighten and his arms around you and Cyril starting to whine for his dinner downstairs...

It was enough.

Because you weren’t just the girl he would kill for. You were the girl he would live for.

#alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons headcanon #alfie solomons oneshot #peaky blinders oneshot #peaky blinders imagine #alfie solomons x reader #writing #alfie solomons hc

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