#and the fact he is still wearing the shirt the polish fan gave him in the big poland gift they gave the crew :'3

[mitamicah]

And then something for the Jesse girlies ^V^

Progresja, Warsaw 12.17.24

[kyotakumrau]

2022.09.13 Petit Brabancon at KT Zepp Yokohama - setlist & report

-SE-

01 渇き

02 Don't forget

03 Ruin of Existence

04 主張に手を伸ばす修羅

05 new song

06 come to a screaming halt

07 非人間、独白に在らず

・INWARD SCREAM (Kyo and antz)

08 刻

09 I kill myself

10 Pull the trigger

11 無秩序は無口と謳う

12 OBEY

13 A Praying Man

14 Isolated spiral

15 疑音

(they seem to play the same setlist at every show this tour)

This tour I decided to go to my Yokohama and the last show of the tour in Haneda. PB had already few shows but for me today was the first time to see them (I'm not counting the performance0.1 at Budokan).

The funny thing - when I entered the venue it was quite smoky even outside the audience area. Was that supposed to set the mood or something?

It was also so different to be in the venue because I could feel that there's a mix of different fans, the atmosphere was pretty different from dir or suke (duh). But as the lights went off everyone eagerly got up.

The concert was a seated one despite being held at Zepp.

There was some kind of SE but honestly I can't remember anything about it besides the fact there was the tour name in the back😂 Fans were clapping and as the band members walked on the stage one by one the clapping got louder at those times.

Kyo was wearing a black Adidas tracksuit, but he took off the top already after few songs (at the start of the new song?), after that he was only in trackpants. Miya had something with a check print (shirt?shorts? I can't remember😂), antz a black tshirt with some print, hair braided, Takamatsu wore all black (devastating amount of details seeing I was in kamite😂).

yukihiro was back left, Takamatsu back right, then front Miya on the left, Kyo, and antz on the right.

Kyo started with stiring us up immediately:

横浜！！！いきてるか？！噛み付いてこーーーい！！！！・Yokohama!! Are you alive? Come bite me/us!!!!*

(*don't forget the small fierce dog theme here😉) - he also used the biting dare all the time throughout the concert.

The energy was awesome! From the start the way Kyo was singing was very raw, like harshly singing/screaming instead of the more polished 'album style', it was the best♡

The new song was a slower~medium tempo song, starts softer but then it got heavier in the middle (bridge?).

I was headbanging, dancing, waving my hand or fist. Despite this being my first PB proper concert it was so easy to let go and just let the music flow through you and move you.

There were two or three times they used pyrotechnics. The stage was quite simple otherwise, but lights were used perfectly for each song.

Hiningen is one of my favs on the album and it was even better live♡ Kyo was on his box screeching, the music slowly building the scene. At the shoegazing part Kyo was laying on his back on the box with legs hanging down, he started convulsing then tried to grab a 'rope' (or something else hanging from the sky), finally got it,  threw it jumping up and then jumping from the box, then still tried to catch something (more?). At the end he thumped his chest with the mic.

The inward scream feels connected to Hiningen, started with Kyo singing/crying softly and then antz joining, then guitar took over while Kyo was thumping his chest with the mic repeatedly.

Kawaki got (京)👈👈👈 gestures at his head to demand headbanging😆

In Pull the trigger Kyo started singing a bit late but got louder drum from yukihiro to get him back to the right place😆

Isolated spiral - Kyo was singing shouting '笑い・' warai' while looking at the fans and pointing.

Before the last song, Gion, Kyo started to work us up with

'Yokohama!! Guys!! Girls!! You can give me more!! Come bite me!! You don't need your necks so!!! LAST SONG!!!

There were many moments when Kyo came either to the kamite(right side) or shimote(left side), but other band members didn't move that much.

But the highlight of the members interactions was definitely Miya playing on his knees in front of Kyo, and Kyo watching him. It gave me a little bit of a match feeling 'are those dogs gonna be friendly or will they fight?'😂

(apparently Miya's guitar's neck tapped Kyo's stomach when he was going on his knees, causing Kyo touch his belly while laughing at Miya, I was too far to see that much detail but that's what someone else reported)

At the end Kyo was going to the sides of the stage and pointing fans and having us handbang.

When they finished Kyo gave us a great smile and left with a wave to the audience. The other band members took a bit more time, I saw antz throw some picks to the very front, not sure if other members threw some as well or not.

I'm so glad I still have Haneda to go!! My neck is still attached despite my trying very hard to lose it😂

[lebenspurpur]

What would the lost boys look like in 2021?

I just got flashed with a bunch of random headcanons so go ahead and enjoy them with me. Also, this came up in a convo with @thehauntinginn just to give a bit of credit. Feel free to argue with me on this one!!

🦇 David 🦇

He is kind of the only one who looks like your usual vampire during the whole movie.

Dark pants, dark shirt, coat, gloves, all that. Only the hair doesn't really fit but hey, they had to get some 80s style in there.

I know for sure that he'd like to keep that mysterious, dark style. It just fits him.

But obviously, that hair would be gone by now. I'm pretty sure he'd settle on something less "80s romance movie" but still kind of different.

My guess is just long blonde hair, maybe an undercut or shaved sides to freshen it up a little.

Now to the clothing, I am pretty sure it wouldn't change that much. He enjoys being a typical vampire in that aspect. It kind of fills him with pride.

During the 90s he definitely started wearing Doc Marten's and that's a fact. He owns multiple, actually, and most of them are over 10 years old.

The whole grunge movement gave him a lot of style ideas anyway. Not that he particularly only wears grunge style but he mixes it with a bit of mall goth/traditional goth to spice it up. Really, the only thing that's missing is the stereotypical makeup.

Which leads me to the next thing: makeup. David does wear a bit, sometimes. Usually, he's way too lazy or busy too and he doesn't really need stuff like foundation anyway. The only thing he's interested in is eyeliner and some black eyeshadow.

I can also see him wearing contact lenses from time to time, simply because he likes to look a little bit freaky. Technically he could just manipulate people into thinking he is, but hey, he likes wearing them.

Maybe some nail polish. Dark red or black. Nothing special.

A lot of accessories. I know for a fact that this idiot loves showing off gigantic golden rings. Kind of reminds me of these old, really rich ladies who love to wear really expensive suits and rings and then tell you about their past affairs. Listen, I have that kind of people in my family and my god. I have heard things about old men that I want to forget.

He can look very fancy indeed, but usually, he prefers to mix that fanciness with some grunge or punk style, since he's way too scared of looking too snobby.

⚰️ Dwayne ⚰️

He looks like he hasn't washed his hair in 3 months.

Dwayne wears a mix of rock fashion and punk in the movie.

He has his typical leather jacket, paired with some ripped jeans, old boots, and his.. "necklace" (I honestly love it, looks like something I'd wear LMAO).

The earring is another very typical "Dwayne" thing.

He sticks to the hair, definitely. It's his whole pride, he won't just give that up. Don't tell me it's not the thing he's most proud of. Have you seen the scene after that one killing spree where his hair is suddenly all swiped to one side? Like, try and explain to me that he didn't just do that real quick to show off.)

Thank the gods, he stops wearing nothing beneath his jackets. Like do whatever you want but Dwayne, hun, that screams douche like nothing else.

Usually, he prefers to wear some band-tees, maybe a button-up when he feels good. Also, he is a big fan of tank tops. He doesn't care if they show his belly to not, he just wants to show off his arms.

I feel like he'd get pierced and tattooed a lot. Tattoos on his arms and piercings mostly in his ears.

So yeah, he sticks with the leather/denim jacket thing, but this time he's wearing something beneath it. His pants are mostly denim or leather too, and black. I don't think he owns any other colored pants.

He likes to keep his hair tied up so it doesn't get in the way. Also, he wears sunglasses. Yes, even at night.

I'd like to think that he kept the necklace but nowadays, he wears more glamourous ones. Oh, and a lot of chains. Technically, he wears more accessories than David but at least his aren't super clunky and big.

Very, very pretty boots, I imagine. After all, he has to be able to kick someone with those and still look fashionable.

Dwayne wears eyeliner every. single. day. Don't even try and change my mind.

🐉 Paul 🐉

Paul dressed super gay 80s punk mixed with a bit of new wave/goth, I'd say.

He has a thing for fishnets and he will keep wearing them. Be it as a shirt or as actual tights, he definitely will.

I can imagine he too, changes his hair but Paul's the one that will pretty much stay with the 80s haircuts. He just can't see himself do anything else with his hair. He dyes it a lot, too. I, for the love of me, do not know how to deal with the word dye. Who the fuck made that one up.

Paul is the one that stays very much experimental with his style. That man changes aesthetics like underwear.

Though he likes to wear tight stuff and big jackets. Ripped jeans, a crop top, some cool shoes, and a big jacket he can nuzzle into? That's already enough for him.

He wears corsets a lot.

I am convinced that Paul is the one with the most knowledge surrounding makeup. He is a master at it and he does apply some whenever he has time to do it.

He uses glitter on his hair and skin. Paul has one of those bodysprays that smell like cotton candy, are pink, and contain glitter.

You can hear him coming. He wears a lot of rattling accessories.

So yeah, while he enjoys glamor, he can really do without it. It really depends on the day.

Okay and hear me out. Paul in drag. Oh. My. God.

🍭 Marko 🍭

Marko always dressed very exotically, paring things he had done himself with dark leather pants to make the whole outfit look fresh and still dark.

To be honest, with Marko you never know. His style can and will change every single day and he's heavily influenced by everything he sees/likes.

He does a lot of things himself. Mostly earrings, rings, and extra accessories he adds to clothing pieces he bought. He does put a lot of work into it.

He has one of these leather jackets with thousands of band stickers and other stuff on it. It looks super cool.

He's the only one that doesn't really wear makeup, simply because he's too impatient and therefore, too busy.

Marko is a very big fan of colors, unlike the others who mostly prefer darker colors.

Marko strikes me as someone who's into kid core style. It's so bright and playful and he can do so much with it!

His hair changes too. He's the only one in the group I can actually imagine having short hair. He prefers it long but from time to time, he cuts it off.

Marko always uses cute bandaids when he hurts himself which adds really well to his style.

Beanies. I can really see Marko wear a lot of beanies.

He also steers more into the direction of tight clothing. That makes him and Paul kind of the only ones because the other two Vampires enjoy baggy clothing a bit more.

Marko owns so many converse and in so many colors. He also whines when he has to walk in them because they're uncomfortable as fuck. In Germany we say "Wer schoen sein will, muss leiden." which translates into "If you want to be pretty, you have to go through pain."

Marko has a lot of hair clips he uses from time to time.

Like Paul, he's not scared of wearing something that shows his tummy. To be honest, he doesn't really care.

Marko collects weird socks, change my mind. He has so many.

[kissme-hs]

Rules ♡ h.s.

Hey my loves! How’re you all? Here’s a little something based off the following request I’ve had for too long. Would you like a part 2? Let me know what you think! Please re-blog and like if you enjoyed <3 {photo and gif not mine}

Anonymous asked: could u do a Dom!harry smut where he’s really rough and strict in bed? Plzz I love ur writing ❤️

Pairing: Harry Styles x Fem! Reader

Word count: 3.2K

Warning: 18+ Smut, Degradation, Unprotected sex, slight mention of BDSM, oral sex fem recieves and gives, use of filthy language etc. {PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE NOT COMFORTABLE WITH DOM-SUB fics}

                ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

Softy, a complete whole soft person Harry was viewed as by the entire world. A guy who loves wearing nail polish and dresses and is nothing but a complete sweetheart. A man, in fact, a man child. In the eyes of million he was a sweet, laid back English lad who wouldn’t dare to hurt a fly.

However, some knew he owned a pair of Gucci handcuffs, the shiny metal made thousands of girls and guys wonder if he actually uses them and the answer is they don’t know. He has never been a man to speak openly about his personal life and just like the rest he let the audience to allow their minds to wander in the oblivion of their thoughts of what he prefers in bed. Or how he is in bed.

All they could do is assume. They assumed he’s rough, maybe soft, or maybe enjoys role play?

No one knows really. Except you.

The only person who has seen his deepest and darkest fantasies. The only person who has ever signed the paper of agreement between you two, you agreeing on being his sub­­, i.e. submissive. Giving him the permission to have his way with you, be it rough, soft or a role play. Whatever it may be, you said yes. The terms and conditions did scare you. The words printed on the piece of paper came off too strong that lied on your lap the night you’re eyes were scanning it, mind finally synching with your wants, deciding it was time you sign the agreement.

*This is a confidential agreement. Submissive is not allow to talk about it to anyone else but the Dom.*

Submissive agrees to obey whatever Dom orders them to do, sexually.

Safe word to be used by submissive is “peach”, if the boundaries are being pushed, the word to be used is “red”.

Honestly, it would scare anybody who reads the further details listed in the contract and what activities Dom would like themselves and the sub to immerge into such as extreme sex toys, being tied up by ropes, fisting and other terms that you didn’t even know the meaning of. But Harry wasn’t doing it just for himself, but for you.

When the day your ex left without a note you found yourself crying in his arms, sobbing and clutching his t-shirt like a broken kid and it hurt him. So he suggested, he was well aware how you wouldn’t be able to go out with anyone after what has happened so why not help you take your mind off him? Nodding to his words, not knowing what was coming you went home and the next morning you saw an envelope on your porch.

And there lied the papers. Submissive-Dom agreement.

“What is this Harry?” You breathed out in fear as your eyes scanned the words and brain figured out what it meant.

“You know it’s not a bad thing, it’ll help you clear your mind”

“Bu-“

“Trust me, plus we don’t have to do what you don’t want to.”

“I don’t know Harry”

“Do you trust me?”

“I do”

“good”

“Do you trust me?” You said biting your lip as you scrunched the bottom of the paper.

“I do”

“Why the agreement then?”

“Its for your own good” and with that the line went dead leaving you in complete confusion. Even though your mind had untangled thoughts and questions clashing together, not thinking twice your fingers grabbed the pen and in a messy rush glided over the rough paper sealing the secret.

And so it began. He invited you over to his place in LA. The house where you’ve been many times but that was when you were friends, you still are but things changed. Quite a lot. His hand held yours as he guided you to the hallway where you never went or even were aware that existed.

Walking a couple more steps you both were standing in front of the huge door. Comparatively bigger than the other he had in his house.

“Stay here” he said as he lets go of your hand and takes a step forward to unlock the door for which he had the key in his necklace. Yes his necklace, a master of disguise.

The second you heard the twisting of the key opening the big door he stepped aside for you to enter the room. Your heart racing with anticipation as you waited for the lights to reveal what he’s had hidden in this room, away from the eyes of the world, away from you.

His fingers flicked the switch and the you saw it. The big red room with a huge bed in the middle, it was surrounded by leashes, leather whips, ropes and the ceiling was nothing but a huge mirror that reflected every move of yours.

Walking down the shiny black floor your hand brushed again the walls that seems so cushiony as you turned your head to look at harry who was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed with a smirk adorning his face.

“Sound proof.” He said as you nodded and continued looking around. Your fingers touched the cold leather whips and slides across the teak wooden drawer. Turning your head one more time to get his approval which he gladly gave, your hand held the handle to pull out the drawer.

There lied several silk blind folds. So rich and expensive. Moving to the next drawer, lied about 50 hand ties, and hand cuffs. Metal, clothed, you name it he has it. And then the last drawer hitched your breath, vibrators, butt plugs, dildos and every other toy you saw in porn.

“I-I never knew you were into this” you whispered as you let your fingers ghost over the silk ties that lied in a perfect fold in the drawer.

“Now you do” you heard his message getting closer to you until his front was pressed against your back. You feel his crotch right up against your ass as he gently, yet with a slight force pushed your front againt the drawer so that you were slightly bent. His hand making it’s from your stomach dragging up all the way up until it found the base of your neck.

The cold metal of his rings felt hot against your skin as he pushed your head back and leaned in closer to your ear. His breath fanning over the love making you shiver.

“Now what’re the rules?”

“I-I call you sir” you breathed out the words as his Kept his hand on your neck giving it a light squeeze telling you to go on, go on with the rules listed in the contract.

“I cannot touch you or myself. I-I respond with words. I-“

“You what?”

“I address myself as your whore”

“That’s correct. You are my filthy little whore. Aren’t you?” He said. His voice deeper than you’ve ever before. And his hand that once held your neck now moved to your side turning you around in a one swift motion. His lips wasting no time to latch onto yours, kissing hungrily as if he’s been dying to kiss you.

And god he has been. Ever since he held your hand walking down the corridor he’s been thinking about having you his way, just like he wants. Kiss those lips and have a taste of thag body is all that has been on his mind since you signed those papers he sent.

Lost in the kiss, deep in your thoughts you were enjoying the feeling of his lips on yours and the rules fading away from your mind. It’s hard to control and stay in the boundaries he’s created when his tongue is inside your mouth dancing along yours, so you let your fingers get lost in those curls as your bite his lower lip.

But to your surprise his reflexes were quick enough to have your hand removed from his hair and twist it and hold it behind your back in a one swift motion.

“One kiss and you’re already breaking the rules. You’re lucky I’m not going to punish you, this is your first and last time.” He groaned before he grabbed you and threw over his shoulder. His hand hving your ass a tight slap before he throws you over the big bed that was situated in the middle on the big room.

Your eyes flickering open to see your own reflection in the mirror that was on the ceiling. Your lips swollen, shirt collected right below your breat revealing your bare skin of the stomach and chest rising with every deep breath you took.

“Now listen to me, you’re gonna look at yourself in the mirror and tell me every single rule listed in the contract. One wrong rule and you lose the chance to cum. Understood?” Harry said as he unbuttoned your jeans pulling it down your legs and stopping right before taking them out when he didn’t hear you reply.

“I asked you something” he raised his eyebrow as one of he held your ankles towards behind your knees over so he could see the cheeks of your ass before giving you another spank.

“Y-yes sir,”

“Yes sir what?”

“Yes sir, understood”

Mumbling a low ‘good girl’ he took off your pants and then sat on you with legs either side your waist to take your top off, his mouth watered when he saw your nipple coming out of your back bra which probably happened when he threw you on the bed.

“Jesus. So full” he muttered before holding your hand over your head and lower his mouth on your nipple, his other hand pushing the cups down so that he could take the whole bud in his mouth and suckle on it making your arch your back. His mouth felt so warm on your cold bud as his tongue flicked the pebble hard nipple around and his bite it slightly before letting it go with a slight pop.

Grabbing a silk tie from the side drawer he tied it around your wrist that he had held in his hand and unhooked the bra—rolling it along the lilc tee that you wore until it reached your eyes and acted as a blindfold.

“Start the rules. Remember, one wrong rule and you lose the chance to cum”

“Yes sir”

“Start” he ordered. And you opened your mouth to let the words out but your breath sucked in when you felt him throwing your legs on his shoulder and his lips coming in contact with your inner thigh.

“I-I don’t sleep with someone else.”

“Cannot”

“Sorry sir, I cannot sleep with someone else”

His lips licked over your drenched knickers that covered your throbbing clit waiting for be touched his tongue. You clenched your thighs together only to be pushed apart by his hands as his nose rubbed over your clothed centre, sniffing, taking the smell of your aroma.

“I cum only when you say” you bite your lip feeling the cotton materiel of your underwear being pushed aside, sensing the cold air of the room mixed with Harry’s warm breath fanning over your sex making your shiver and you shrieked when his four fingers slapped your cunt making the wet filthy sound which only made you drop more.

“Only when I order, looks like you didn’t read it properly you little slut. Lost a chance to feel my tongue on this little pussy of yours”

“I’m sorry sir, please”

“Please what?”

“Please forgive me and eat me out”

“And what are you?”

“I’m your filthy little slut, your whore. Please eat me out sir please” you whimpered as you pleaded harry dying to feel that muscular tongue on your pussy to finally see how it feels like to have his mouth on you which you’ve always dreamt of. Even though you were in a relationship, there always has been a sexual tension between you two which is the reason why you agreed on doing this at the first place.

“That’s right, you’re a whore. A little dirty whore.” And with that you felt his tongue lick a long stride of your lips pushing them open. That one lick was enough to make you squirm, what a shame you couldn’t see his face tucked between your legs as his chain dangles from his neck and gives your a perfect view of his chest from the black shirt he wore, unbuttoned enough for you to see his butterfly tattoo to the slightest.

“Who told you to stop, say the rules doll”

“I see you at least twice a week when you’re in town”

His mouth was now on your clit, sucking it like a leech. His lips left the bundle of nerve with a pop as his hand came in to rub it harshly, before his index finger collected your juices that dripped down your hole and you heard him licked it clean and without any word you feel your opening being stretched to the fullest when he inserted two fingers.

His mouth finding its way back to your clit, licking and sucking your pussy without any mercy. Your hips bucked up in his mouth which he roughly pinned down.

“If I see you doing that once more I swear to god you’ll forget how to walk you slut” he said through gritted teeth as if you interrupted his meal. He shook his head keeping his lips on your clit to give those toe curling vibrations with his fingers twisting inside you.

He felt your soft walls clenching as he let go of your swollen clit to take his fingers out and slide his tongue inside you feeling the warmth against his tongue.

He spread your legs open as he pushed his tongue in and out, tongue-fucking you savouring every drop you released.

“I only wear red and black lingerie when I see you”

His fingers came back in position as his mouth placed itself back on your clit not leaving the swollen bug alone. Your back now covered in sweat and your nipple perched up, mouth dry and pussy waiting to release.

“Wrong. You only wear red around me.”

And with that he flipped you over so that you were lying on your stomach and your ass was up in the air. Withing another second you felt a tight spank against your ass cheek making you hiss in pain.

“That’s what you get for being a dumb whore”

“Sorry sir”

Followed by another spank he pushed you back to him so that he could press his bulge to your arse.

“Grind. Grind like the little road slut you are” he gripped your ass so firmly that you could feel his metal rings digging in your skin as he held them strong in front of his crotch.

As you tried to held yourself up on your elbow he pressed your head down on the bed so that your cheek was squished against the soft cushion.

“Grind i said”

Obliging to his command your moved your ass up his all rock hard cock that you felt tight against your butt cheeks making you moan. Moving your ass in rounds and different directions you felt him buck further into your hips wanting for a release as his hands came in to grip your hair that fell down your shoulder.

Wrapping the long locks around his hand in a fist his he pushed your head back to that your tee which was covering your eyes now came down hanging around your neck which was strained because of his grip on your hair.

“I’m gonna fuck the shut outta you, gonna destroy that little cunt of yours and make you scream until you the only name you remember is mine and forget that asshole who made you cry” and that’s how your first night ended as a submissive after being raw dogged to the fullest with the rough hand prints laying on your ass cheeks.

 But that was just the beginning, so when one day you found yourself on your knees in the bathroom of a posh restaurant that Harry insisted to take you to you weren’t surprised.

You mouth dripping saliva as he held your face in one hand keeping it upwards so he will have a full view of your mouth which was sucking on his thick sick. Lips wrapped around his shaft you gagged when he bucked his hips further in your mouth hitting the back of your throat making it impossible for you to take him any deeper.

“Jesus fucking christ you little cunt” he moaned grabbing your mouth so he could move your head to his liking. Following his movements, you bobbed your head hold the base of his cock, twisting your hand around his with the faint wrist while you suckled with hollow cheeks.

It all started when he saw you arrive at the restaurant. Wearing a tight black dress that hugged your curves and gave all men a delicious view of your plunging breasts making the jaws drop.

“Meet me in the bathroom, right now”

“But wh-“

“Do as told”

And when you did you felt him grab you by your hair and push you against the counter so that your stomach was against the cold marble top while your ass was facing him which he wasted no second uncovering, lifting the almost sheer clothing and pushing it over your waist to reveal your unclothed bottom.

“fucking whore”

Your body flinched with pleasure disguised In pain as he raised his hand and slapped it across your cheeks looking at you straight through the mirror. His hand gripping your hair.

“Look at me” he ordered and you flickered your eyes open to see his dilated pupil and heavy breathing chest. His ring cladded slender fingers didn’t stop spanking shaking your whole body up until he pulled you back and pushed you down on your knees and stepped in front of you with his dick out and slapped it across your face.

“Open” he said holding his hard dick from the base and you did as told. Soon you felt it heavy on the tongue as he patted it on your tongue before pulling away, grabbing your cheeks and pulling your face upwards to him. His fingers wasted no time squishing your cheeks so that your mouth was open slightly giving him the perfect angel so spit in your mouth making you gasp.

“Swallow” and once again you do as told before grabbing his dick and kitten licking his tip, teasing him. But he wasn’t having it so grabbing the back of your head he pushed your head forward until his shaft was hitting the back of you had making your gag, your eyes picking up instant tears and he would’ve stopped right away if they were tears of pain, but they weren’t.

“this is what you get for breaking the rule of not wearing revealing clothes until I ask you to. Get treated like a slut, a fucking filthy whore in the public sucking my dick” he groaned as you played with his ball bobbing your hand.

His grip on your hair tightened before you felt his hot cum gushing down your throat which your swallowed without his order and let go of his cock with a ‘pop’.

Pulling your face up to him he swiped his thumb over your bottom lip collecting the escaping cum and pushing it in your mouth which you happily took sucking on his thumb.

“Be a good girl, and follow the rules”

[dreamii-yume]

@shikigamiuwu said :

“Epel’s have a crush to y/n since they meet them and has confessed there love for y/n many times but y/n reject him. So since it was here birthday he thought of confessing again since he has birthday pass, but Y/n reject him again since he has a crush to Vil or Rook (whoever you want) to Epel’s demise, so Epel’s became so frustrated and angry that he just rape y/n and manipulate him on think y/n is not worthy to be with Vil’s so he can have y/n for himself.”

••••••••••

You, my good bitch, have sent like- four big-brained ideas for not only Epel but SILVER BIRTHDAY CRUMBS and I am ascending. Yume does not deserve this, I–

Warnings : Non-Consensual Touching | Non-Con | Yandere

“I like you.”

If it happened to be your first-time hearing Epel say those three words to you in such an affectionate manner, words that are obviously meant to be taken as a confession, it would’ve been enough to put you through a coma because of shock. You’ll be all flustered and probably stutter like a toddler learning how to speak for the first time, trying to figure out if it was a joke or not, despite the obvious signs. I mean...It was a confession from such a beautiful boy after all and you don’t really consider yourself as someone who can reach that level of beauty so, how can you not panic? If it were the first time, you wouldn’t know what to do, what words you should say, or which feelings you should prioritize. You’d be totally lost!

Except…This was no first time.

How many times had this beautiful boy confessed to you over the course of a few months? You weren’t counting, but you do know that you rejected each one of them respectfully and thoroughly. You didn’t why he kept coming back, he’s a lot more persistent than he lets on. “...How many times are you gonna tell me that?” You can answer him as differently as you want, but Epel would only smile at you and say the same thing every time.

“Until you can say that you like me back.”

The first time was as true as it could get, you were flustered, in the state of disbelief, plenty of eye movements going everywhere, grateful but unsure, and nervous sweat formed on your forehead. He loves you in a romantic sense, but even if he was someone precious to you, you just can’t see him as someone more than a really good friend, family even. “...But I keep telling you, I already like someone else.” It was your only excuse; it was a weak reason but at least it wasn’t a lie, Epel should know it more than anyone. It shuts him up, unable to say anything that could counteract your words and at first glance, it looks like a sign of giving up but soon, he’d just shrug it off like you never said anything in the first place.

It was troublesome, Epel wasn’t forcefully pushing his personal ideologies into you but having to tell you something that you already know is tiring to say the least. You wanted to be polite and even appreciate his honesty, but the more times he confesses, the more desensitized you get. Your rejections went from being apologetic to giving out an exasperated sigh and a shake of your head, just wanting to get it over with. It’ll just be the same anyways, the same confession and the same response, there was no point in sugar coating your words at this point.

“I like you.”

Epel might have thought that he’d get the response he wanted if he confesses to you on his birthday, but you could just shake your head in pity. No, you weren’t going to give in to the fact that it’s his special day and feel obligated to reciprocate his feelings because of it. You’d be lying otherwise, and you’re not about to build a relationship out of lies...Seriously, when is he ever going to stop terrorizing you with all these confessions, you’re starting to feel really bad about yourself here.

“Like I said a million times before, Epel.” You narrowed your eyebrows together with a stern and impeccable voice. “I don’t like you that way, I have someone I already like—“

“It’s Vil-san, right?”You widened your eyes as you looked back at Epel, surprised that he gave up a different answer than the usual. He was wearing the same smile as he does before, but up until now, you just can’t stand the fact on how empty it feels.

“H-How did you—“

“It’s obvious. Anyone could easily guess it if they observed you enough...Especially with how you constantly you look at him.” He said, his clear cerulean eyes burning holes into your soul. This made your cheeks flushed, quickly looking down...Do you really act that weird when it comes to Vil? It’s true that he makes your heart flutter and his presence was just something that you can’t turn a blind eye into but...You always thought that you were keeping your feelings cool and low. “What, don’t tell me you’re not aware of it yourself?”

Epel laughed, his hand covering his mouth like a delicate princess. “You’re really funny, charming even when your making such a dumb face too, hehe...” He said with a tinge of adorable red tainted on his flawless skin, rosy cheeks that you could only ever wish in your dream to have. You gulped as he looked back at you, staring straight into your unsettled eyes, making your body tense without knowing the actual reason as to why. “...But that’s only because I really like you that I’m willing to accept any of your bad characteristics. What do you think will I think if I were a normal person? If I were Vil-san?”

Your mouth closed and open multiple times, trying to find the words you want to say. Somehow, you began to piece together what he wanted to say and yet, you couldn’t actually stop him from saying it out loud. You knew it yourself; you didn’t need someone to pressure you into admitting something you already knew. Was Epel this much of a shrewd person before? Regardless, his pink polished lips twisted into a chilling smile.

“I’d think you’re disgusting.”

“You think you’re so smooth, following him around and eavesdropping every time he opens his mouth to talk just to hear his voice. You’re probably the type to steal some stuff from him too, it’s creepy!” Epel said, walking over to you as you kept your head held down, ashamed to be called out like this. “That makes you no different from a crazed fan, a stalker. Vil-san already gets plenty of those, he doesn’t need another one.”

You gasped as Epel grasped your chin, his eyes remaining as dark and cruel as you remembered them before, only that this time, he was no longer smiling. “…That’s why it’s disgusting. That’s not the kind of beauty Vil-san is looking for.” He said as you tried backing away, only for him to keep on stepping forward to stay close to you. “He’ll never acknowledge someone like you.”

You yelped as Epel suddenly pushed your shoulders down, tackling you down to the ground. Grunting, you landed in a not-so gentle manner with his beautiful face hovering above you. “...But I do.” He added, a small smile reappeared in his face, it was more like a pity smile if anything else.

You were getting scared, there was fear in your eyes alone as you try to search for your way out of this situation. Epel has a small structure despite being growing man himself, the different in size between the two of you are barely even noticeable! But with that cold, intimidating gaze, it feels as if you were forced to shrunk down beneath him. “E-Epel—“ Your voice calling out his name only became an encouragement for him to move his hands freely around your body. Even when you widened your eyes as he suddenly lifted up your shirt to expose your chest.

“W-Wait— no!” You can protest all you want, but even struggling against him as a fit resilience did nothing to reach conscience. Your breath was shaking as he merely swayed your flinging arms away, already weakened by your own will, and worked his way into freeing your mounds to be groped. His hand reached the underneath the skirt that you were wearing for his party and wasted no time in reaching for your underwear. Quavering lips turned into gasps of panic as he makes its way down to your erogenous zones, his nimble fingers able to send pleasures down your body. It didn’t take too long before the realization came to you, just how serious this is, that tears began to well up in your eyes.

He took no mind to it though, you plead and beg but you were met with cold, uncaring eyes as you felt a finger sliding in pass your folds. The way you squeaked like a mouse as he bit on your breast too, it was all too insignificant to really reach his ears at all…Looking deeper in the depths of those seemingly gentle eyes, it slowly occurred to you the emotions that he was hiding underneath there. Something that you’ve never noticed until now, or something that you never really bothered to look into, even if it was just for a split second.

All this time, Epel...was angry.

“S-Stop!” As if yelling out in a demanding voice can stop him, it only made him growl in irritation as he thrusted yet another finger inside you. Your willpower was incredibly weak, your stomach was already forming a knot ready to burst out any moment just by his fingers alone. With a scissor-like motion, it’s almost like he knew where to hit you, which places would feel good and would irk you even more, he even dug deeper down your entrance to explore undiscovered places.

An orgasm was inevitable, he was surprisingly skilled with his hands and your body wasn’t able to take all of that pleasure all at once and bursts right then and there. The toll on your body it took had you writhing on the ground, sobbing at the light-headed feeling spreading inside your brain. Epel seemed satisfied though, pulling out his fingers completely to marvel at how soaked you’ve made his fingers to be. “…You’re amazing.” He said, smiling down at you as he began to shuffle in between your legs, not even letting you rest for even a minute. “This is why I like you so much.”

“Please, stop...! W-Why…Why are you doing this…!?”

He leans in, wiping the tears off your cheek as he shook his head stubbornly. “Do you still…not understand?” He said, that chilling smile on his face was making it all the more terrifying for you as he comes and undo his pants. It’s not about whether or not you understood his motive here because you already had way too much time to do that, you were just in a state of disbelief that you’re just…doing anything you can to call off this reality your experiencing at this moment. “I said it over and over again, didn’t I?”

“I like you.”

Epel then chuckled, before shaking his head as if to correct himself from his own wording. “…No, maybe that’s why you couldn't understand.” He said, his smile becoming wider and wider. “Because it’s love.”

“I love you, (Y/N).”

[hostess-of-horror]

An Unexpected Guest

[Part 1]

I needed more Phantom content, so I was inspired "A Girl and A Ghost", a little cute fanfic by @strawbunniiee. I'm not exactly sure if this will be connected to the last two fanfics I've written ("Encore at Midnight" and "Danse Macabre"). But either way, this story is about Phantom being greeted by an unknown and unexpected guest, who discovers his territory one gloomy night.

For @salamifuposey, @strawbunniiee,@kindpopstar, and everyone else who wants to read it!

[Content Includes: Some Profanity]

Another night falls over the land of Spooky Trails. The full moon illuminated up in the black, starlit sky, giving light for the inhabitants living among the desolate ruins. On this particular night, a heavy fog rolled over, making the pathways much more difficult to traverse. Of course, this is if a traveler were to pass by. Not so far off the pathways stands the dreary and disheveled stage of the Phantom of the Bwahpera. Phantom, an opera-singing hybrid of a ghostly Boo and a Rabbid, didn't mind the fog. In fact, he enjoyed it, for it gave a sense of theatrical mystery within his home. He felt more otherworldly, as if he wasn't otherworldly enough. Better yet, the fog was the perfect place to blend in - he is a spirit, after all - and sing his heart out throughout Spooky Trails. Although Spooky Trails was already spooky, Phantom's voice made the land much creepier for any traveler who wanders by. All, except for one...

---

[Phantom floats amongst the rolling fog like how one would float on their back in a pool. He leaves a trail of vocals and humming behind for every inhabitant who crosses his path. Phantom swirls around through the abandoned villages and dead trees, letting the fog take him anywhere it pleases. He stops suddenly when he notices something unusual. Inside the fog is a small figure walking through, leaving an open path behind. Curious, he decides to follow the figure's path. As Phantom follows silently behind, he hears a voice.]

????: "Damn... where can it be?"

[This voice is that of a young woman's. The only woman Phantom knows is Princess Peach, but that wasn't this figure. He ponders as continues, until he finds himself following her approaching the silver gates of his stage.]

????: *gasp* "There it is!"

[Still in the fog, Phantom watches as the figure run out towards the gate. He could finally see what she looks like. This young woman is dressed all in black, from head to toe, with combat boots and spiked jewelry. The right side of her head is completely shaved off, and the rest of her dirty blonde hair falls down around her shoulders. She is also wearing fishnet gloves, a pastel purple coffin backpack, and black nail polish.]

Phantom: *thinking to himself* "Who is this woman? And why is she trying to trespass into my home? Is she a thief?"

[The woman in black inspects the gates and tries to push it open. Then she tries to pull it open with all her might. Phantom can't help but chuckle at her fruitless attempts. She takes in a few deep breaths, looking around the gates to find another way in.]

????: "Hmmm..."

[She peers through the gates. The stage stands just across from it.]

????: *to herself* "I know this is it.... Huh, he's not here.

[This catches Phantom off guard. The woman pauses for a moment, taking a moment to think. She is still trying to get inside.]

Phantom: *thinking to himself* "She wants to see my humble abode, eh? Well... I suppose I'll give her a little debut."

[Phantom fades into the fog. After a few minutes of struggling, the woman then decides to leave. But she is stopped when the gate opens slightly by itself. The fog rolls in through the entrance; she follows with it. Soon she was within Phantom's theatre, surrounded by lingering fog, taking in the scenery of it all.]

????: "Woah..."

[Suddenly, she is swiftly lifted from the floor, her feet dangling in midair! It is then that she finds her in the clutches of Phantom himself, his mitten paw grabbing onto the front of her shirt.]

????: "Oh sh*t...!"

[She is met with a furious gaze, his sapphire eyes gleaming with anger. Then, a spotlight appears, shining down upon them! Music begins to play around them, and Phantom gives her a wicked smile.]

Phantom:

🎶 Who do you think you are, foolish girl?

Who dares trespass my theater?

Who do you think you are, little thief?

Walking into my world of music? 🎶

????: "Wait, I'm not-!"

[Before she could explain, Phantom swings her around and drops her onto the stage. She yelps as she lands.]

Phantom:

🎶 For your crime, you will pay

Here you will rule the day

As my unexpected guest

You will be laid to rest! 🎶

????: "STOP!"

[The woman in black holds up her arms in defense as she yells. From her hands, a burst of purple and green aura shoots out in an explosion of shimmering stars. A circular barrier surrounds her - a magical circle glows on the stage floor. Everything stops. Phantom is stunned by this sudden discovery. Slowly, the woman gets up, painfully, until she's back on her feet.]

????: "I'm... I'm not here to hurt you. Or steal from you.... Well, other than your attention."

[Phantom is silent. Confused. He cannot help but stare at the glowing aura that surrounds her. It's like a miniature galaxy formed with tentacle-like curls.]

????: "I can't believe it. You're still here, after all these years."

Phantom: "....what?"

????: "They told me about you. I didn't think I'd actually find you, let alone meet you in person."

Phantom: "Who told you?"

????: "The citizens of the Mushroom Kingdom, the Rabbids and their translators, Boos, almost everyone I've come across with. They said you disappeared after Mario and his friends defeated you. Some say you didn't, and a few believe you're nothing but a ghost story."

Phantom: "I see... but who are you, and why are you here?"

[The magical aura slowly fades as the woman lowers her defenses.]

????: "My name is M.B.; I came to Spooky Trails to find you, Phantom. Consider me as a fan, if you will."

[prairiesongserial]

16.1

The lights on the burlesque stage went out just as Friday’s brassiere fell open - the timing of which she and Abernathy had been practicing for days. The crowd was so reactive that Friday felt the whistles and applause reverberating in the floorboards as she hustled off the stage. It was a louder reception than she was used to. She’d had fans at the Ace, but unlike the burlesque tent of the Madsen and Graves Circus, the Ace was just as much about drinking and catching up with friends over cards as it was about the girls.

Behind the curtain, in the tiny staging area, Beatrix was getting ready for her fan dance - she always did the finale, and it was always the same act. Friday had picked up the importance of crowd control since she first started hanging around the burlesque tent. With just cloth tent-flaps between yourself and a crowd that had been waiting a year for the circus to come through town, it was important they understood when the show was over.

A little girl popped through the curtain behind Friday while Friday was still trying to fix her brassiere back in place.

“Hey, baby,” Friday said, shooting her a smile. Jaelle, All-Fair’s kid, had been working the crowd. It was odd - usually Johannes did the burlesque tent himself, or at least got one of the men to do it. They blended in better. On the other hand, looking at the dozens of rings jammed on Jaelle’s fingers and the watches crawling up her arms, maybe the kid was the right choice.

“Hello, Miss Friday,” Jaelle said. She deposited her goods in the tin lock-box that Abernathy would come collect at the end of the night, turning the key with an air of great importance. “Can’t stay and chat - Johannes has me working every tent in the circus.” She heaved a sigh. “Bury me standing - I’ve been on my knees all my life.”

Friday had no idea what Jaelle was talking about, but the kid took off before she could ask. The circus would be winding down, now that the burlesque tent was putting on its last show. Friday threw slacks and a shirt on over her sequined underwear, still soaked in sweat from performing. She needed an ice cream cone before the stall packed up for the night.

When Friday left the tent, she was abruptly reminded that this was no ordinary show.

Her boots tread on grass, but there was no sky here. Despite the fact that it should have been past ten at night, dozens of lights high up on a domed ceiling gave the impression of daylight. Johannes’s amplified voice reached her from the main tent as he announced the last attraction. All at once, the lights on the ceiling shifted from yellow to orange to red, performing dusk in a matter of seconds. If not for that, the effect would have been eerily realistic.

Friday got a strawberry cone from Di and decided to wander over to the main tent. Might as well.

The last act in the main tent was fire-hooping, which was worth watching. The twin clowns had shed the baggy overalls from their tumbling routine and now wore form-fitting red and blue harlequin outfits as the flaming hula hoops arced through the air in perfect sync. Not only were the fire-hoopers impressive, but when the flames were extinguished at the end of the show, it made for a powerful symbol. Lights out, go home.

Friday felt the lightest touch against her back pocket. Most people would have written it off as the movement of displaced air as someone nearby walked past. Friday jerked her hand back and caught a slim wrist.

“Damn, I’ve been made,” Jaelle whispered.

“It’s just me,” Friday said, letting go. She beckoned Jaelle forward. “See that cluster of people three rows ahead of us, a little to the left? Heavy purses.”

Jaelle squinted in the direction Friday had indicated.

“Thanks, Miss Friday,” she said, then disappeared into the crowd again.

On stage, one of the clowns tossed her hoop up in the air, tumbled through the center of her twin’s hoop, and caught the one she’d thrown on the other side. The crowd clapped. That was the perfect moment to pick pockets. People’s hands were occupied, it was noisy, and the whole tent was filled with vibration, making little touches harder to notice. Friday felt the urge to check her own pockets again.

She did wonder at Johannes’s directive to go hard on pickpocketing this show. They were underground - had actually had to pay a toll to get into this giant bunker - and only after the steel door had been sealed behind the circus caravan had Friday learned that this was Washington, DC; home of Hemisphere Central. If Jaelle was caught picking the wrong pocket, that pocket had a pretty good chance of belonging to a powerful mobster. And the circus was trapped in here.

It was interesting how the Madsen and Graves circuit just happened to hit so many Hemisphere towns - from Everglades City to the accidental run in with the Good Guys - and now Central itself. No, interesting wasn’t the right word. At this point, it was almost boring, how obvious it was that Johannes was planning on handing her, Val, John, and Cody over to Hemisphere. Friday had finally tested her L-shaped pin against those used in the trailer hitches, and it was a perfect match. Johannes was trying to kill them, and Friday didn’t have a next move.

The fire-hooping ended with the lights shutting off just as the fires were extinguished. When they came back on, Johannes stood center stage to announce that the night of spectacle had come to a close. He’d changed backstage, and now wore a sequined suit - the left gold and the right black - and a cream cravat with a gold pin. Also cream colored was the porcelain mask that covered the top half of his face. Strange.

“Thank you all for coming to our show - that’s all the entertainment we have for you tonight. We hope you enjoyed the feats of athletics and wonder of the Madsen and Graves Circus.”

Friday spied Enis climbing down the ladder of the crow’s nest from which he controlled the lights. The crowd began to move toward the exit.

Friday wondered what Val thought about all this. She hadn’t tried to talk to him since he came back from Monocacy, but she’d pieced together from the gossip that Johannes had kissed him, it hadn’t been appreciated, and Val was pissed about it. Di, who was approaching sixty and had likely been with the circus since before Johannes was born, had called Johannes a dog and spat on the ground.

The crowd cleared the main tent surprisingly quickly - there were whispers of stopping at home to get changed. Interesting. Apparently the Madsen and Graves was the unwitting first half of a double feature.

As the last of the crowd left, circus members began to file into the main tent. Not unusual - after a show, there were sometimes special instructions for striking the sets. Friday saw Val hanging around the edges, and John and Cody front and center. She made her way over to Val.

“Catch my show?” she asked him.

Val looked at her, made an embarrassed face, then looked back to the stage.

“Would you rather I said yes?” he asked.

Friday smiled to herself, stuffing her hands in her pockets.

“A girl can dream,” she said, and winked at him. Val rolled his eyes. For a second, the summer had rolled back to the start, before John, Cody, and the fire. The reminder of how things used to be made Friday forget what she wanted to say next.

“Alright people, gather round,” Johannes called out, tipping the mask up to show his face. “You all know your strike teams, but there’s a little change. Enis and Abernathy are standing in for me and Ezra. We’re gonna shmooze at the gala and see if we can’t get us some extra gigs next year.”

Ezra had joined Johannes onstage by this point. He too was dressed up, wearing a bright navy suit and polished red leather shoes. He held a red mask in one hand. 

Friday was surprised when Ezra projected his voice exactly as competently as his brother had.

“Once you’re done, feel free to go into town, buy things that aren’t good for you, and give Enis a hard time.”

The crowd of circus members laughed, and a few ribbed Enis.

“Alright, get outta here,” Johannes added.

Friday stole another glance at Val. His brow was furrowed, his eyes intense on the brothers as they descended the stage.

“Gala, huh,” Friday said. “Sounds like a high class affair.”

Val gave her the look that meant I know what you’re getting at.

“I’m just saying, beer and campfires are nice, but I’ve never been to a champagne-on-little-trays kinda party.”

Friday wanted to keep an eye on Johannes - to judge if this was going to be a planned handoff, or if he’d spend the gala advertising the bounties to interested parties. Either way, Friday needed as much advance warning as she could get. And if Val came to the gala with her, maybe he’d finally see Johannes for who he was.

“It’s a Hemisphere party,” Val said.

So don’t you think it’s interesting that Johannes is looking for work there? Friday thought. Come on, Val.

“No one’s gonna be looking for us there,” she said. “It’s a fancy ball. We’ll wear big sparkly dresses and masks and introduce ourselves as the stars of a not yet released Bellamy picture that no one’s even heard of yet. No further questions.”

“I’ll come, but I’m not doing that,” Val said. “Someone has to keep you out of trouble.”

“Me? Trouble? Never,” Friday said, a wide grin growing on her face. “Come on, let’s find costumes.”

epilogue 15 || 16.2

[astrablossom]

That futa thing is something I never considered, but I am looking ahsjsdkkdkslsl how about futa satan using male mc as a cockwarmer, but also breeding kink and a bit of edging

Say less, I got ya. Sorry for taking so long, this wasn’t clicking and I had to keep writing it over.

Futa Satan x Male MC

Ao3 Version

You lay alone in the sheets of your bed, your body sluggish from the nap you’ve woken up from. Turning your head, you listen for any sound from the floors. It seems like for once it was quiet in the House of Lamentation. You furrow your brows, grumbling a bit as you push your body upright. If memory served you correctly some of the sisters weren’t home yet and the ones that were have probably copulated in their activities. You stretch a hand out to pull your D.D.D on the bed table off the charger, it immediately lights up, the time reading 18:00. Running a hand through your messy hair you sigh lowly at your bag on the floor. There was a history exam next week and you really should study for it instead of goofing off with Mammon. That earned you a scolding from Lucifer last time.

I should probably study, you think to yourself and rack your mind about what books would be useful to study about crossbreeding in all three realms. Fortunately for you there were resources a few feet away.

“Satan might have something,” you think aloud and you move to grab a nearby t-shirt, slinking it over your chest. The door behind you closes with a soft click and you begin to walk down the lavished hallway, already grown used to the strange portraits that decorated the walls. Your time here in the Devildom was surprisingly well spent. You, just like the rest of the sisters, weren't sure at first if you’d be able to adjust to the sudden change in lifestyle. It didn’t help that almost everyone but a few threatened you in some shape or form to take your life.

Sock clad feet stop moving when you arrive at your destination. Still reminiscing in the past, you knock a few times on the door, the second knock pushing the door ajar. How unlike Satan to leave her room door open but you push it open, the enormous stacks of books entering your vision. You can’t help but chuckle out of amusement. Your girlfriend truly never changed when it came to books.

Girlfriend. Yeah, that was the term she used when she cornered you in the library during a study session. You can feel your neck and face heating up at the memory of how her emerald eyes pierced into you that day. There was no way you could've turned her down. And it wasn’t like you would’ve. 

You tiptoe around the books that littered every corner of the floor, the tiled floor barely even visible. However, you still found it weird at the fact that the Avatar of Wrath took an interest in you. You’d never think Satan would fall for a simple guy like yourself. Even when you found yourself liking her before getting together you kept your feelings to yourself, afraid she wouldn’t reciprocate them. Yet here you were, in a deep and loving relationship.

A small smile graces your lip as you squat down on a book free area on the floor.

'Breeding Between Hybrids...and Spells For Fertility.'

"Hm." Those books would most likely be on the bottom shelf you figured to yourself before getting down on your hands and knees. Your body was slightly arched, the T-shirt you wore riding up to show your stomach when you stretched over to reach a book. You aimlessly whisper the book titles your fingers graze over, pulling out a thick book after a few minutes. Crawling a bit you stretch more, your hip bouncing the shelf and loosening a book from above. You cry out in pain when the textbook drops on your head, glaring at the offending item when a chuckle interrupts the embarrassing moment. 

“Oh? Who let this little stray into my room?” 

Surprised you turn to see Satan nearby the doorway, her eyes glazing over the skin your shirt failed to hide. She stops particularly at your stomach which moved with each breath you took. Her lips part, a small yearning in her chest as she gazed upon your mortal form.

“Ah, I knocked but the door was open. Hope you don’t mind,” you explained as you pick up the fallen book to place it back. You hear Satan make a small noise of acknowledgment. “No, not at all. I always enjoy your presence.” As you stand to your full height, brushing your knees, the shuffling of muffled steps over books reach your ears before a warm body encompasses you from behind, Satan’s soft bosom pressing deep into the slope of your spine. Before you can turn you make an undignified squawk at the impact of her hand landing a sharp slap on your ass. 

“Satan!” A cruel laugh of mockery fills the air and you turn to face her properly with slight annoyance riddled on your face. It only urged her to laugh more, you were just too cute in her eyes. Who could blame her for her actions when just a mere seconds ago you sat with your entire body on display? That shirt you wore did nothing to conceal your body. The slope between your stomach all the way down to your covered pelvis, how your back arched when you stretched for the book; it made a dark desire in her tremble. Those skimpy shorts of yours did not help her situation but she couldn’t help herself. Seeing her boyfriend down on his knees like that was bound to make any demon want to toy around. The blonde pulls off of him, giving a small kiss to his nose before looking down at the books in his hand. “Studying are you? Is it for the exam next week?”

His face relaxes a bit and he nods “I didn’t do too well on the last exam and Lucifer scolded me.” He lifts the book and Satan looks down to read the cover “A good choice,” she looks at him and places one hand akimbo to her hips. She closes her eyes for a moment as if deep in thought before opening them up again. “How about I help you study?”

She reveled in the look the human shot her. He knew her so well. It wasn’t unlike Satan to offer assistance but it always came with a bargain. The look he gave her wasn’t one of annoyance but rather speculation. He raised his eyebrow and spoke with concern in his voice.

“Satan what are you up to?” The demon said nothing in response, instead opting to lift a hand to caress his cheek. He watched her with wide eyes as she stepped closer, closing the gap between them till their lips were mere centimeters apart. He breathes in softly, warmth pooling in his throat before closing his eyes. Instantly he felt the pressure of soft lips against his own. The kiss started off innocent, just the two of them pressing their lips against each other till Satan ran her tongue over his lips, a demand for him to let her in. She purrs softly when he parted his lips. Without delay, she cupped his left cheek in her palm, pushing her body against him till he fell against the bookshelf from behind.

“Mmm...Satan.” He gasps softly between the small smacks of the noisy kiss, their appendages mingling in a lewd one-sided battle. As they made out the human could feel the soft hand on his cheek drifting down to his side. Quickly he reaches a hand out to palm Satan’s clothed chest, massaging her budding nipples from underneath her bra which elected a soft groan from her. In return, polished nails began scraping lightly against his exposed skin. He bites her lip, tugging on them, and bucks his hips when she grabs onto him. The shorts he wore didn’t restrict the semi-erection he was beginning to sport and he was sure she could feel it against her legs.

It was becoming intoxicatingly hot in the room and at some point he pulled away, exhaling deeply only to look at Satan who was eyeing him with a predatory stare. “Now I’m sure you know I have no ill intentions...” he could feel her pressing up against his own body and blinks when he feels something else on his thigh. The expression he made could only be defined as an absolute embarrassment as he tries to push her away. That alone made her grip his waist more tightly, purring lowly. The look she gave him...it always made him feel small and slightly uncomfortable. The way her breathing accelerated, how her pupils dilated, falling into a forbidden lust...

It made him want her more. He averts his eyes, ignoring how nice her bosom felt against his chest or how beautiful Satan looked with her face tinged pink. The human shudders visibly when her fingers make contact with the imprint of his cock.

“Come now. You wouldn’t want to fail that exam right?” A shiver runs down his spine when she grabs his hand, luring her boyfriend over to her bed. The book in his hand tightens and he looks down to see the slight imprint of her erection through her jeans. Suddenly another hand clasped his cheek making his heart accelerate from the action. The woman before him stared deep into his soul. The change of the atmosphere in the room was very evident. 

“You think you can just waltz into my room with your ass held up in the air? Barely wearing anything? And think I won’t do anything?” she scoffs almost amused and tilts her head down, strands of blonde hair falling in her face. “But don’t worry I’m sure we can compromise.”

...

You gasp aloud when you feel Satan fanning her fingers inside of you, your legs buckling as she slips them out. The lubricant she used was now warm, dripping onto the sheets. You nearly whimper from the sudden loss but it wouldn’t be long before she replaced her fingers with her cock. You mumble softly in her hold as she slowly pushes herself up into you. You could feel the barbs of his cock pressing against your insides, the vein that ran along the edge- every piece of her forever imprinted inside of you. Once you’ve been situated in her lap you reach out and grab the thick book in front of you.

“Now let’s start with Chapter 15. It’s a brief introduction to hybrids" she spoke in such a calm tone as if she wasn't sitting herself inside you. You exhale slowly, “Alright,” and sink yourself into her chest, enjoying the warmth and cushion it had to offer.

“Remember no cumming.” You suck your teeth. Satan kisses the tip of your ear softly. “Not going to thank me?”

“...Yes. Thank you...” you mutter softly and you ignore the throbbing in your erection as you spoke the words.

As you start to read aloud you keep yourself still as possible as Satan begins wrapping her arms around your waist, kissing your ear, and running her hand all over your body. No part of you was left untouched. Her fingers glide across your naked form with such keen precision it was nearly frightening. She knew your body like the back of her hand. You swallow a moan when she grazes her fingers on the inner part of your thighs, centimeters away from your ball sack. She took joy in the way you stuttered over a word, chuckling a bit when she tweaked a nipple of yours.

“What is a Cambion?”

“A hybrid created when a human and demon copulate.”

“Correct. Now, what about the Water of Life?” She pinches his other nipple and he hisses from the slight pain. Still they began to slowly bud when her nimble fingers kept massaging them till they stood fully erect.

“The Water of Life refers to the fertility spell used when the birth parent lacks the certain nutrition to feed the-” you choke on your words when you feel her hips grind underneath you, the tip of her erection grazing against the bundle of nerves. 

“Y’know” she cuts him off mid-sentence, pulling on his other nipple as he lets out a soft moan “You could be such a good father.” She moves her hand down once more but this time around his erection, sliding a finger up the tip. He breathes slowly, wanting so much to rock himself in her hands but he keeps himself grounded. “I can fill you up with my seed and watch as the months pass by, your stomach blossoming and carrying the life of our child. How would you like that?” His attention no longer remained on the book, his body breaking into a cold sweat as the rings of his ass throbbed around her dick.

“Human men can’t h-have children Satan-” he tries to explain but a laugh cuts off his explanation.

“You’ve seemed to have forgotten that I’m a demon, my dear.” With that she slips out of him, the release edging her as she flips positions, placing her human underneath her. She pushes her leg back, the book he was reading from earlier dropping and joining with the rest on the floor. As she hovered on top of him, her chest rests just above his face and he feels the warm sensation returning pooling in his stomach and down to his already hardened erection. His mouth was already salivating as he lifted a hand to grope a plump boob, enjoying how it squeezed under the pressure of his hand. He pulls closer and directs the nub to his mouth sucking slowly, his eyes never losing contact with his beautiful girlfriend. Blonde hair falls between her green eyes as she positions herself near his now loose entrance. Her eyes glow as she stares deep at him.

She breathes slowly, her patience wearing thin as she replays the scene from earlier. “I want to see your chest swollen, full of the nectar our child will feed from. You’ll be my Water of Life, whether you like it or not.” Her hands go to grip on his hips, tightening as she runs the base of her cock against the crack of his ass. Satan was slow in her foreplay. She wanted to see him fall apart before her as she kept pressing only the tip of her erection against the rim of his wet hole.

The human felt his inside twitching for what was to come and he grabbed harder on her boobs, lips pulling off her nipples to speak. "Satan--ngh, p-please...hurry up already."

"Patience, my little kitty." She kept teasing him, the blunt tip of her cock driving him up the wall as beads of precum rolled off his own erection. He could feel how Satan's thumbs rubbed circles along the soft parts of his hip, pressing deep enough into his femur for him to gasps out loud, puffy lips glistening. 

It seemed that was the last straw for Satan for just as he was about to beg again he stopped himself when he felt her guiding her cock in. She slipped in fairly easily but the two of them groaned out in pleasure as her head popped past the rim, stretching the human far more than her fingers ever could. He had forgotten how huge she was and grunted at the slight stretching. Kindly, she stopped moving, eyes staring at him till she could visibly see his discomfort disappear.

She pulls back, only the tip of her cock still inside before slamming her hips against him. Her moans reverberated through his whole body and he silently screamed, tears immediately budding as the pleasure and shock drifted through his body. He wanted to place his face in her chest as she plows through, but one look from her made him keep his head against the pillow, opting for massaging her bouncing chest.

She created a relentless pace, the bed jerking with each thrust. The cries that he made, the way his eyes froze up and shut close from the overbearing feeling-

How exhilarating. 

It only ushered her need to breed him. He just felt so amazing around her cock, his velvety insides sucking her each time she thrust. Her breast bounces up and down, his fingers sinking deep inside as he holds onto them.

Hot tears streamed down his face, his mind and body overfilled with pleasure. Each time Satan hits a bundle of nerves within him his body alighted with fire. It felt too inhuman, too wonderful. He looks up at her through foggy eyes.

Was it because she was a demon? Or was it because-

Satan bends her head down, her nipple popping out of his mouth as she latched on to his neck, biting deep into the slope of it. Pain surged through him as he screamed out loudly, his breath almost non existent as he arches, legs automatically wrapping around the blondes locomotive form. 

It hurt. It hurts like hell but it still felt so good when she started sucking on the swollen mark. He moans out into the confines of her breast, mind succumbing to the lust, questions all forgotten. “Satan-" the human groans out her name, his ball sac tightening just as he was about to release. She could feel him squeezing around her but he wouldn’t get to cum, not yet. Cruelly,Satan slipped out at the last moment breathing heavily over the human, his gasps of disappointment filling the room. She truly lived up to her race.

He thrust his hips against her own, his wet erection flailing underneath her and making a mess on his stomach as pleas drip off his glistening lips like sweet honey. Eyes, blinded by the glamour of lust watched the male struggle beneath her. His body shimmeried under the room light, a light coat of sweat as proof of their strenuous activities. Each time he gasps and cries, his chest would rise up eagerly; nipples swollen and in view. Her erection throbs at the display, her desire finally consuming and she exhales.

"Pretty."

Her lips capture his lips once more, their tongue continuing the battle of dominance. Never had she felt so sure of herself.

This mortal would carry her child. 

His mind long drifted from the fact he came here to study, his attention was only directed above on the beautiful woman who was plowing into him. The sheets on the bed were already falling off due to the multiple positions she hands him in. Once more did the demon thrust deeply into him, invoking the return of the excruciating heat in his chest. His hips buckling was the only warning that his orgasm was quickly approaching.

Glazed eyes, now rimmed red with tears looked up at his lover, pleading through his moans for her to let him cum. And Satan truly wanted to. She wanted to fill him up to the brim, watch his stomach become swollen. Her cock started to expand as she felt her own orgasm approaching but she hisses, pulling out once more, her erection throbbing and red from being denied release.

But her boyfriend was in worse condition than her. The bite mark was swollen where she bit him and it wouldn’t be long before she left more. His waist hurt from the tight grip she had on him, there were sure to be welts there in just a few hours. He parts his lips to try and conjure up some words, but instead, he reached a shaky arm out to wrap around her neck, bringing her efficiently closer. His leg too followed in the same matter squeezing more tightly around the demon. He was too tired to be embarrassed anymore. With his second hand, he grabbed her boob softly, sliding his index and middle between before pinching. A soft hiss could be heard.

When he made eye contact with her he licked his lips and whispers in a very low tone for only her ears to hear:

“Let me carry your child. Please. I don’t think my body can take it anymore, I’m aching....” he whispers softly in her ear, mindful of how she stared at him with sharp eyes.

It was all but silent, no movement from the demon above. The only warning he received was when she shoved him down, separating his arms into the sheets. The look in her eyes was completely animalistic and the human could feel himself becoming high on alert before his consciousness nearly taken from the single thrust from Satan.

She slammed in so suddenly his mind wasn’t able to comprehend the action, a partial scream ripping out so loudly that he was sure someone else could hear him outside the room. He jumps a bit when he feels his legs being lifted up further to lay on Satan’s shoulder. Another thrust but it was directed above his g-spot and he couldn’t hold it in, his cum shooting out albeit painfully and landing on his stomach.

“Mine,” he hears her growl out as she sets a grueling pace. He groaned out and couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The thrust so deep within his body he could see the bulge in his stomach.

She's going to destroy me, he thinks to himself, vision becoming a bit blurry. His eyelids felt incredibly tired after that last thrust and they close, his body unprepared for the onslaught that was about to happen.

He wasn’t sure how long he was out but when he opened his eyes he winces at how heavy he felt. Not only that but the fact that his face was pressed deep into the bosom of Satan. He was sure it was past midnight. All parts of him ached and he squirmed in her protective hold. He freezes when he feels something inside of him. To not wake Satan up, he slowly lifts his head up to see her thigh slung over his leg. When he looked closely enough his eyes widened: she was still inside him. His breath hitched. Not only that but...

His stomach was extremely large, the cum inside him hadn’t subsided yet. She really did it, his mind was feeling sluggish but he was still reeling from the fact Satan had filled him up. He didn’t even have any recollection of her cumming in him, did he pass out? All these questions swarmed about in his mind but one this was obviously clear:

He was going to carry their child. 

As bizarre as it sounded he was both frightened and a bit grateful. When he looked up at the peaceful expression on her face he felt amused as he remembered her crazed mannerisms from earlier. As his eyes start to close again, exhaustion capturing him in its hold, his mind idly wonders how he would even give birth. But that was something to deal with in the future.

...

5 months later

You sigh softly as you take a seat in the cushioned couch, your stomach now protruding and round under the sweater you wore.

“Well look who is here” you look up to see Satan taking a seat beside you, leaning close to kiss your cheek. “You look absolutely beautiful” she whispers softly, her hand running around your circular stomach. You give her a soft smile in return which quickly fades when her hand sneaks under the sweater to cup your chest which is now budding with potential milk to feed your future child.

You slap her hand away gently “Later.” She scoffs at you slightly annoyed but removes her hand “Keep acting like that and I won’t be able to control myself.”

“Not like you had any before” you enjoy the slight glare she gave you and rest your head on her bosom.

[chaoticbi-cheesecake]

Movie Nights and Pillow Forts. (Hournite)

Summary: The team has a movie night and Beth and Rick share a pillow fort.

Warning: None

Categorie: Fluff

Read notes at the end.

The week had been hectic for the new JSA, fourteen tests collectively, a fitness gram in Beth's gym class, six late assignments for Rick, and sleep deprived Courtney and Yolanda were not having any good times. And that's not even mentioning the ISA and their mysterious plans.

Pat tried to take it easy on them during training, his parental instincts telling him something was wrong.

As they walked into Pit Stop for their training session on Friday, they found the training room to be void of equipment. No half made puppets of the ISA, no punching bags or targets to aim at.

The team gave Pat a questioning look and he explained himself.

"We're gonna try something different. You guys have had a hard week and over exerting yourselves isn't helping anyone out in the long run. So you're gonna take it easy for today."

"Thanks dad," Yolanda and Rick joked.

"So what are we going to do?" Courtney questioned.

"Just some easy team building excercises. You all have to feel just as comfortable being together as you do being apart."

"We do," Beth defended brightly, but shrunk at how everyone stared at her. "at least, I do."

"Yeah, no thanks. Team building excercises? This isn't summer camp and I'm not three." Rick stated.

"Be nice, Pat's just trying to help." Beth chided.

Rick rolled his eyes but complied.

"So what did you have in mind?" Yolanda requested.

"Well, just something easy, hopefully that you'll find fun. Get you guys a little de-stressd."

"Pillow forts!" Beth exclaimed.

"I'm sorry, what?" Rick turned to her.

"Pillow Forts. I never had any friends to make pillow forts or have sleepovers with, but they always seemed super fun to make." she explained brightly, not even realizing the sadness in that statement.

Rick's heart hurt at the underlying weight of the words she didn't even realize was there. He understood what it was like to feel alone. He wanted to reach out and hold her hand but he didn't.

Courtney smiled at the girl and said, "I think that's a great idea, we could build them together as a team-"

"And Chuck could project a movie while we're inside. We could totally have a sleepover." Beth proposed.

"And where are going to get pillows to make the forts, this is a car shop not a mattress firm." Yolanda brought up.

"Pat can go home and get stuff." Courtney offered.

The team looked to Pat, the girls had pleading eyes and Rick looked plain uninterested.

"I don't see why not." Pat said.

Smiles took over the girls' faces and Courtney highfived her friends.

"Ooh, and I could get snacks from my house. Just get on comms and tell me what you guys want." Beth offered. "Of course, if you're willing to drop me off, Mr. Dugan." she said sheepishly.

"Sure, kiddo."

"Yay!"

"Okay, well, let's get going. Court, I'll tell your mom you're staying over at a friend's house, the rest of you call your parents and let them know you'll be out."

"It's fine, my parents probably won't even notice I'm gone." Yolanda grumbled bitterly.

"Same here," Beth chided. "They work at night a lot now that I'm older."

Rick stayed silent, wondering if his uncle would come home at all that night. Not that he'd bother to check on the boy.

"Okay, well be back soon," Beth smiled, grabbing her goggles our of her bag and running out the door to catch up with Pat who had already gone outside.

The three teens stood in silence for a bit before Courtney and Yolanda started looking for good spots to set up their fort.

"Don't forget comms," Courtney reminded before turning hers on.

Yolanda and Rick followed her example and were met with Beth's voice.

"Alright, we're almost at my house, what movie were you guys thinking of watching?"

"Umm, we're not really sure, what can Chuck play?" Courtney replied.

"He can do anything really, oh wait, okay, anything but badly done historical drama or science fiction. He prefers something more accurate."

"But isn't the entire point of both those genes the fact that they're dramatic and fictional?" Rick queried.

"Chuck says some stuff just goes too off the charts. It's more the inaccuracy that irks him. What about something from the 80's, that's always fun. Maybe something like The Breakfast Club, or Heathers." she proposed.

"Nah, not Heathers. That Kurt guy was a real asshole." Rick chided.

Courtney and Yolanda turned to him in confusion, surprised he knew anything about the dark teen drama.

Rick simply shrugged his shoulders.

"Okay, we're at my house, gimme a minute while I look for my keys. Be right back." Beth said before their connection cut out.

"Kurt was an asshole?" Yolanda prodded

"What?" Rick defended. "Beth told me a bit about the movie."

Courtney snickered.

"You shouldn't say profanities around Beth. It would be a shame if her Prince Charming was a bad influence."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rick interrogated

"Nothing," Courtney shrugged before giving Yolanda a knowing look.

"What?" Rick pushed.

The girls only shook their heads. He was about to say something else when Beth came back online.

"Hey guys, sorry, I kept dropping my keys. What do you guys feel like. There's a ton of chips. And some chocolates. Ooh, I found a huge bag of candy from Halloween. It's still closed!"

"Uh-" Courtney was interrupted.

"Popcorn is a must." Beth added before the sound of something being placed in a bag took over the coms.

"Are you just taking everything?" Yolanda asked.

"Pretty much, yeah." Beth confirmed. "And Pat shouldn't be back for another fifteen minutes so I should have time to grab some pajamas."

"Oh, that's smart. We're just going to be sleeping in our school clothes." Courtney stated.

"Actually, I have some clean gym clothes in my bag, a few shirts and a couple pairs of shorts. You can borrow some." Yolanda supplied.

"What about you, Rick?" Beth spoke.

"It's fine."

"No, come on, we're all gonna have something to wear. I'm sure I can find something, or maybe Pat can get you some clothes."

"It's okay, really."

"Nope, too late, I already have clothes for us."

"How are you so fast?" Courtney wondered aloud.

"I'm magical." Beth joked.

Rick almost said 'yes, you are.' But pushed that thought down to the furthest reaches of his soul.

"Maybe something scary?" Yolanda said.

"I'm not a huge fan of scary movies." Beth replied.

"What about a rom-com?" Courtney offered

"No way." Rick opposed.

"How about Twilight." Courtney said.

"No!" Rick and Yolanda exclaimed in unison.

"Harry Potter?"

"We don't stan JK these days." Beth expressed, earning a nod from Yolanda.

"How about a mystery movie?" Rick proposed for the first time.

"I'm unopposed." Yolanda declared.

"Me too," Courtney agreed.

"Okay, I'll if there's any mysteries Chuck reccomends. He says he likes Clue." Beth provided.

"Sounds good." Courtney replied

"Yeah, sure." Yolanda answered.

" M'kay," Rick added.

"I'll be back, I need to get the rest of my stuff."

"Rest of your stuff," Courtney began. "I thought you had everything, what else are you-"

"Bye guys!"

"-getting?"

Courtney quickly shrugged it off before guiding Yolanda to once again look for a place to set up their pillow fort.

Rick leaned against the table behind him until Pat and Beth got back a bit later.

The short girl came in wheeling a suitcase behind her.

"What do you have in there?" Yolanda was first to question.

"Food, clothes, nail polish, some toiletries, pillows, blankets. Just the basics."

"Isn't Pat already bringing blankets? That might be too many."

"We're making pillow forts, is there ever such a thing as too many blankets?"

"That's fair." Courtney input.

Pat came in, sliding a cardboard box against the floor.

"These are some covers we never unpacked and I have pillows in the car." The man announced.

"This is going to be so much fun." Beth proclaimed, opening her suitcase and pulling out five blankets. Two pillows that had been shoved inside sprung out and we're grabbed by the girl. "So, where are we making these?"

"Court and I decided we'd have a place over here," Yolanda pointed to a corner below the stairs. "And we would tie some of the blankets up and let them hang down and then we could space the sides out with the stools."

"Nice," Beth complimented. "How about you Rick?"

"Umm...I don't really know how to make a pillow fort." He stated plainly.

"Oh, that's okay, I can help you. I read up on it during the ride back."

Rick nodded his head curtly before standing up straight and allowing the girl in front of him to lead the way.

With arms crossed over his chest, the boy listened intently to Beth as she rattled on about all the different ways and places they could put up the fort. He felt strangely giddy at the amount of excitement in the girls voice.

The two settled on a spot next to Courtney and Yolanda, choosing a similar approach to the construction of the fort. Beth ran up the metal stairs and instructed Rick to toss up a blanket. She tied two of the ends around the rails of the walkway and repeated the steps until the fort had four 'walls'.

Beth ran down to Rick, who was tossing pillows inside the fort, taking an excited look at their creation.

"And for some added structure," the girl grabbed two foldable chairs from across the room, dragging them to the fort, placing them inside. She moved one back until it, and the fabric covering it, met Courtney and Yolanda's stool. She then moved the other side approximately the same distance on the side parallel.

Beth emerged from the fort all smiles. Rick embraced the slight smile that made it's way onto his face when he saw her ecstatic expression. She raised her hand to highfive him which he awkwardly returned.

Pat had sat watching the kids build their forts, happy that they were having fun, but stood when he realized it was getting dark.

"Okay, I'm gonna head home. Please, keep everything in one piece. And Court," Pat gave the blonde a pointed look, " the staff comes home with me."

"What?" Courtney, who had built her fort with the help of the staff, asked caught off guard

"Yes. I'm going home and it needs to come with me. It had to go back in its box for the night. I'm glad the two of you..." he struggled to find a word," bonded. But it needs to go back home."

"But Pat," Courtney groaned.

"No 'but pat's, it needs to go back home." he stated softly.

Courtney looked at the glowing stick that levitates next to her. She pouted, but moved her head in Pat's direction, signaling the staff to go with him.

"See you tomorrow," she told it.

"There's a mini fridge and a microwave in my office. Remember, one piece. Night kids, have fun." Pat chided as he walked out the door.

"Goodnight Mr. Dugan." Beth called.

When he drove off, the teens sat in silence before Beth spoke up.

"I'm gonna go heat up some popcorn. There's snacks in my bag and Rick, I brought some clothes for you to change into."

"Thanks." he said as she tossed a large t-shirt and pair of pajama pants in his direction.

Beth went into Pat's office to make to popcorn as Courtney and Yolanda settled into their pillow filled heaven, wrapping themselves in blankets and waiting for Beth to get the movie started.

Rick went in his fort and decided he might as well change into the clothes he was given.

He had just reached for the t-shirt when he heard the fabric pulled back.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry." Beth cried and turned away when she saw Rick was shirtless.

"It's, fine, what's up?" he asked masking his blush by pulling the shirt over his head.

"Um," Beth flushed. "I was just wondering if you wanted any popcorn. She said shaking the bag in her hand.

"No, I'm good, thanks though."

She simply nodded before uttering,

"Chuck's gonna start the movie soon."

"Kay."

Beth shuffled off to give the girls popcorn. Entering the tent she was greeted by Courtney and Yolanda saying, "Hey," in unison.

"I have popcorn." Beth sang.

"Ooh, yay." Courtney praised.

"Give," Yolanda said, making a grabbing motion with her hand and smiling happily.

Beth gladly complied, handing the bag over to the girls.

"I'm gonna get Chuck to start up the movie. Don't eat all the popcorn without me, I'll be right back."

The two girls nodded, grinning, and opened the popcorn.

Beth left the fort and got her goggles, placing them over her eyes.

"Ready Chuck?"

"Indeed."

"This is going to be great!"

Beth took off the goggles and pointed them at the wall across from her, gently placing the goggles on the floor as the opening credits began projecting on the wall.

She rushed back to the girls' fort and stepped inside to see Courtney trying to throw popcorn into Yolanda's mouth.

"Okay, it's on." Beth announced, loud enough for Rick to hear as well.

The girls moved closer to the opening of the fort and peeled back the opening to watch the movie.

They watched lazily, sometimes shifting to find a better way of sitting. Courtney and Yolanda carried on their own conversation as Beth painted Courtney's nails listening to the movie in the background.

As the girls waited for their nails to dry spoke to eachother lowly as to not disturb Rick next to them.

Beth lightly tapped her nails to see if they were dry and Courtney and Yolanda shared a teasing look.

"Do you think he's lonely over there?" Yolanda asked Courtney, just loud enough for Beth to hear.

"I'm sure he's fine." Courtney continued

"I don't know, maybe someone should check on him?"

The two turned to Beth with a knowing look.

"I'll do it," she offered immediately. "Yeah, it's not right for him to be all alone."

She rose from her position and stepped over pillows to leave the fort. She quietly walked over to his fort, hearing Courtney and Yolanda's quiet giggles behind her.

The front Rick's fort was a little open. Beth walked to the side and pulled the blanket back.

"Knock, knock." Beth spoke

"Hey," he greeted.

"I thought you may be lonely. Well, Court and Yolanda thought, but I wanted to see if you needed company. So I can stay. Only if you want me to of course." she rambled.

"Yeah, sure." Rick responded softly, scooting over and patting the spot next to him. She gladly entered and took her place next to him.

Her legs were crisscrossed and she twiddled her fingers, appreciating the glittery polish on her nails.

Rick turned to her, a smirk on his face.

"Thanks for making this with me," he gestured to the fort around them. "It was...surprisingly fun."

"Told you." Beth gloated, bumping her shoulder to his.

"Yeah, you did." Rick said under his breath as he gazed at her. He admired her eyes, the way the light reflected off of them. Rick inhaled sharply before taking a leap of faith.

He draped his arm across her shoulders to test the waters.

She quickly moved closer and laid her head on his chest. A wide smile graced his face, she didn't notice though, focusing all her energy to prevent the blood rushing to her face. She failed.

They stayed in that position until the movie ended.

Rick was half asleep by the time the credits finished rolling. He was snapped awake by Beth moving from her position and making a move to leave the fort.

"Where are you going?" He whispered.

"I'm gonna change then go to sleep in the girls' tent. And of course say goodnight to Chuck."

"Oh," he responded, trying not to let his disappointment peek through. "Okay. Goodnight."

"Night." she smiled and left the fort.

Rick frowned but perked up just a bit when her heard Beth's sweet voice say goodnight to the goggles. He thought it was adorable how much she cared about the AI in those goggles.

He layed back and tried to fall asleep but soon realized it was much more difficult when Beth wasn't in close proximity. He ran his fingers through his hair frustratedly and tried to build up enough courage to just ask Beth to stay with him that night.

But he quickly found he didn't have to. As if the universe heard him, he saw Beth cautiously lift up the opening of his fort.

She looked sheepish as she met his eyes.

"Courtney and Yolanda are hogging all the space inside. Would it be alright if I could, maybe, stay here. It's up to you." she questioned quickly.

Rick nodded his head as apathetically as he could, when on the inside he was absolutely thrilled.

Beth slowly stepped into their fort. Rick made note of the oversized black t-shirt she wore that fell over her light green pajama pants.

She layed down facing the opposite direction as he did, but bot could still feel the body heat radiating off the back of the other.

"You know the reason Court and Yolanda sent you over here was probably so they could have the tent all to themselves." Rick stated.

Beth thought about it for a minute before letting out a sigh of relief.

"Oh, thank goodness. I was worried they were getting tired of me. Phew."

"Why would they get tired of you?"

"Everyone does at some point. Even if it's just for a little bit."

"Hey," Rick said darkly. "I'm never gonna get tired of you. Ever. Not even for a little bit. You understand?" He asked with a seriousness yet softness she didn't see often.

She nodded her head, hoping he could understand the gesture even if he wasn't looking at her.

Beth moved back until she made contact with Rick. Their backs were pressed up against eachother and they both found comfort in the warmth of the other.

Beth lay frozen, worried about if Rick was okay with the contact, but her worries were soon relieved when she felt Rick's hand reach for hers.

They interlocked their fingers, still not looking at one another, before they both fell into a peaceful sleep.

...

Rick woke up to light streaming through the covers of the fort and the sound of giggling.

He looked to the source of the noise to see Beth and Yolanda holding the blankets open.

"What?" He asked groggily.

They only giggled more.

That's when he registered the weight that covered half his body. Beth was practically on top of him, her face snuggled in his chest.

Rick's eyes widened and his system was shocked awake. He heard Courtney smack her hand over her mouth to muffled her laugh at the sight of the boy.

"Pat's going to be here in half an hour. We need to take everything down." Yolanda supplied.

Rick nodded his head tiredly and the girls walked away, letting the blankets drop behind them.

Rick gazed down at Beth, angry with himself for liking their position so much. He groaned internally as he tried figuring out how to wake Beth up.

He gently tried to move her off of him, laying her just beside him.

"Beth, you have to wake up." He tried softly, lightly shaking her shoulder.

She groaned, but complied, blinking several times.

"Pat's gonna be here soon, we have to start taking everything down."

Beth frowned.

"But it's Saturday, can't we just stay here for a few more...hours?" She proposed.

Rick chuckled softly at her question but shook his head.

"It's already light out, my uncle probably knows I'm gone." the boy grimaced.

"I wish you could just live with one of us."

"Yeah me too," he whispered.

Beth propped herself up before crawling out of their fort.

Rick followed and saw she was heading up the stairs to untie to blankets. He saw the pout on her face as she undid the knots and watched the sheets fall to the floor.

"You know, maybe we can do this again sometime?" Rick called up, smiling when he saw Beth perk up.

The team worked together to undo everything and neatly organize their pillows and blankets. They all decided to change back into their clothes from the day before, Courtney and Rick returned their borrowed clothes.

Rick helped Beth stuff everything back into her suitcase and they finished just as Pat arrived.

"Hey guys, how was your night, good I hope?" he questioned.

"We had a really great time," Courtney confirmed. "Thanks for coming up with the idea, Beth."

"No problem, I always wanted to do something like this." the girl smiled.

"You guys ready to go?" Pat asked.

"Yeah, we're all set." Yolanda said.

Beth just nodded happily.

"Help me get everything in the back." the man directed.

Once everything was done, the girls began piling into the car.

"Rick, you coming?" Courtney asked.

"Oh, nah, I'm just going to walk home."

"You sure kid," Pat verified.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Aw, okay, talk to you later Rick," Beth came over and gave him a quick hug before retreating into the car.

Pat drove off and Rick waved goodbye to the girls.

The boy turned and made his way home. As he walked, he thought of his interactions with Beth. He couldn't explain the flutter in his stomach when he saw her excited, or how naturally comfortable he felt by her side.

One thing he did know though, was that Beth made him happy. They could do anything from sitting in silence at lunch, to fighting crime, to sleeping in a pillow fort.

One thing was certain, Beth Chapel was a wonder, and Rick was all there for it.

The End.

Okay, that was my second hournite fic, i hope you liked it. I'm super lazy so i didn't edit it, so if there are any errors please let me know. I'm not sure if anyone picked up on the reference I made when Rick said Kurt Kelly was and a-hole. For those who didn't know, Cameron Gellman played Kurt Kelly in a television adaptation of Heather. I just thought it was something funny to throw in there. If you have and comments or criticisms, let me know in the comments. I sound like a YouTuber, lol. I hope everyone has a great day and if anyone has any prompts they'd like to see, let me know. That's all for today💕💕

Sincerely, Tessa.

[shortythescreen]

come over

Warning(s): NSFT/18+, friends with benefits, sex with feelings lol. 

Relationship(s): Octane/Female Reader.  

Author’s Notes: this was my first post on ao3 and i’m trying to actually start using this blog so. here’s the post, lmao! my spanish sucks but i understand everything, hence the ref to a meme in spanish. :) 

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3.

come over?

That’s what lights up your phone screen at damn near three in the morning. You roll over, squinting at the bright screen as you grab it from your bedside table. It’s one of the lamest texts you’ve ever gotten. It’s barely a step up from the even more basic ‘u up?’ and you’re half tempted to leave him on read. Octavio can do better than that.

Yet, you scroll through your compilation of gifs and send him one of a woman rolling her eyes. Sure, it’s disdainful but he now knows that you are, in fact, awake.

About three months ago, you were offered a job by Apex, the corporation running the well renowned Apex Games. The offered pay was astronomical in comparison to what you made at your humble little gig as a thorn in a journalist’s side. Room and lodging would be included in the miniature city built just for Champions and the people who made the games happen.

All you had to do was do what you do best. Take pictures.

Every advertisement, webpage, and piece of merchandise is covered with your pictures of the Legends. Those that you take in the studio given to you and those that you take off the clock. Every picture on your camera belongs to Apex, even with your signature scratched at the bottom of all of them.

Because of this, it had taken a select few Legends time to warm up to you. Others, not so much.

Octavio, better known as Octane, might as well have sat in your lap when you walked in with a camera hanging around your neck.

Though you’re a lot quieter than ‘The Adrenaline Junkie’, you have about as much impulse control as he does. So one night when he’d visited you in your studio a little past business hours, brandishing a bottle of Hennessey Black the size of your head, one thing lead to another and, well.

The events of that night lead to you getting texts from Octavio at damn near three in the fucking morning asking you to come over.

i have a box of wings and a bottle of Smirnoff with ur name on it.

You bite the tip of your tongue. The offer’s tempting.

and other things, if you can keep up. ;)

That, even more so.

Against your better judgment, you text him back with words instead of a gif. You’ll be over in ten minutes.  If he drinks all the liquor before you get there, you’re leaving. You imagine him cackling at his screen because if you know him at all, and you do, he’s probably polished off at least a quarter of the bottle on his own.

Octavio’s apartment is a five minute walk from yours but you gave yourself an extra five to brush your teeth and find your shoes. The penthouse suites offered to all the Legends is right across the street from your simple one bedroom.

When you first moved in, you thought maybe Apex Corp wanted you to take paparazzi sort of shots of their competitors. They’ve never asked you to and you haven’t bothered to try, so you guess they just gave you what was available.

Whatever. You don’t mind living in earshot of some of the deadliest people in the Outlands. Especially now that you’re fucking one of them.

God, you never thought you’d be in this position. Sure, you’re not fucking blind, most of the Legends are attractive. Bangalore has a smirk that drops panties and a voice that’s a little more gravelly than the average woman. Wraith’s got the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen, powers or otherwise, and her skin is flawless. Gibraltar could probably defeat half of his opponents by throwing them.

Even those that you can’t see the faces of have appeal – Bloodhound’s shroud of mystery has gained them quite the following online and what Octavio doesn’t show of his face is made up for by his stupid little crop top.

You just… Didn’t anticipate any of them finding you attractive too. Least of all the speedster with a penchant for picking up bad habits. Like fucking the photographer. You run your hand down your face as you exit your house, locking it behind you before jogging across the street to the penthouse suites.

Even if you had toyed with the possibility of warming one of their beds, you certainly didn’t think you’d wind up in Octavio’s. Maybe Elliot, who’s got a reputation for getting around, or Ajay, who’s could crush you with her thighs. Octavio, whose accent and stupid selfies had caught the attention of many Apex fans, was the last legend you expected to end up making your heart do the jitterbug-

It’s not, you’re not, you vehemently remind yourself as you enter the elevator of the Legends’ suites. Absolutely not. No way. You walk down the hallway to Octavio’s door, reminding yourself over and over again you’re most certainly not catching feelings and whatever dance your heart is doing has something to do with the lack of sleep.

Even though that makes no sense, it’s what you tell yourself, because there’s no fucking way you’re into Octavio like that. Not into someone you’re just hooking up with. Not into someone who’s only interested in hooking up.

You knock once on his door and you barely have a chance to step back before Octavio’s tearing it open. His mask is gone and even though you’ve seen his face a million times by now, you still take a moment to breathe him in. He’s got the prettiest green eyes you’ve ever seen, glassy with alcohol, and you notice that he’s in need of a shave, his cheeks tinted dark by pinpricks of facial hair.

“It’s three am,” you tell him.

“Yet here you are, amiga,” he smirks.

“For the booze,” you reply and he snickers, shoving out a plastic cup you hadn’t noticed he was holding. The stench of Smirnoff envelops you and you sigh, snatching it away and shouldering your way into his apartment.

“What are you doing up, anyway?” You ask, flopping on the couch and taking a large enough gulp of your cup to make your nose burn. You squeeze your eyes briefly closed, letting out a little ‘ahh’ as Octavio’s weight sinks the opposite side of the couch.

“Couldn’t stop watching The Flash. But Barry got kinda boring, so I texted you,” he says and you snort, opening one eye to glance at him. You hadn’t even noticed the title glaring at you from the flat screen only a few feet away, the only light in the apartment aside from the stove.

God, he’s so unfairly pretty. He’s resting his tousled head of green hair, the same green as his eyes, in his hand, propped up on the back of the couch. His PLUS ULTRA tattoo peeks out from the three quarter sleeved shirt he’s wearing and you go for your drink, hoping you can excuse the warmth in your chest as Smirnoff.

“Of course you were. You’re so fuckin’ basic.”

“I’m on brand.”

“You’re at home. Alone.”

“Not anymore.”

You snort, finally beginning to feel that warmth in your chest drip down into your stomach. The easy, fuzziness that comes with being here, with drinking and banter and the promise of something so much sweeter.

“Well, thanks for inviting me,” you say, “now where are those wings?”

As promised, Octavio brings you a takeout box with about thirty wings. With liquor brewing in your stomach, you probably could demolish them, but you’re barely buzzed and still willing to be polite.

It’s the wee hours of the morning, so you’re grateful that each of the Legends have soundproof walls. You and Octavio put on old telenovelas, even though your Spanish is slim to none, and he makes you laugh by describing the scenes to you.

“Oho man, she’s such a bitch. The mother basically just told the son’s lover acompáñame a ver esta triste historia.”

“I don’t speak Spanish, Oc,” you remind him around a mouthful of a wing coated in ranch.

“Remember how the girl’s parents died when she was six?” He asks and you nod your head, vaguely remembering the shitty graphics acting as flashbacks. “The son’s mother heard that and might as well have said ‘that’s cute’.”

You were right to assume Octavio had already had a hefty serving of alcohol before he’d texted you, as he brings out the bottle when your glass gets low, a little less than half of it gone. He’s got a higher alcohol tolerance than you and it’s obvious the more you two delve into the Smirnoff.

He smirks at you when you whine about the wings getting low, polishing off what must be your twelfth. You’ve officially had enough alcohol to stop being polite and Octavio loops an arm around your shoulder. When had he gotten so close to you on the couch?

“There, there,” he murmurs into your hair, “there will be wings tomorrow, mami.”

“But I want them now,” you complain, only to completely forget your train of thought as you bury your nose in the collar of Octavio’s shirt. “Fuck, you smell good. Do you always smell this good?”

“I smell like liquor,” he snickers, kissing the top of your head and you shudder as he slides his fingers through the small hairs at the base of your neck.

“And soap. What soap do you use? I bet you use Old Spice. Old Spice is so basic but it smells so fucking good,” you ramble, tilting your head just enough so that your lips brush against his collarbone.

“Gracias,” he hums, tilting his head back a smidge. You take this as an invitation and begin placing careful, open mouthed kisses up the length of his neck.

Octavio sighs through his nose, arm around your shoulders sliding down your side to pull you half into his lap. Your teeth scrape his pulse and his grip on you tightens.

“You didn’t say yes or no,” you absently mumble as he grabs a handful of your ass. He squeezes before you pull back just enough to meet those pretty green eyes of his, dark with want.

“Yeah, it’s Old Spice,” he says, then leans in to devour your mouth with his.

Octavio kisses like he moves. Quick, eager, his tongue pushes into your mouth and makes you groan. You haphazardly drape one leg over his, twisting so your chest is flush against his. He bites your lower lip and you whimper, half grinding against his prosthetic legs, cool against your heat.

His free hand sneaks down to grab your other ass cheek, pulling you up to straddle him. His lips leave yours with a pop and he bites his lower lip as you shudder against his dick jumping under your hips.

“We haven’t even started yet,” you say, allowing him to slip his hands beneath your shirt, gripping your breasts and rolling the peaks under his thumbs. You sigh, continuing, “how are you so hard?”

“How are you so sexy?” He snarks, releasing your tits in favor of grabbing the hem of your top. He pulls it off eagerly, eyes hot.  

“You too,” you half beg and he obliges, tugging that snug fitting shirt over his head. You hum, hot with liquor, and with lust, and with the look he’s burning into your chest. He leans back into the couch, drinking in your disheveled state before reaching up to cruelly pinch your nipples.

You gasp, trying to lean into the sensation and alleviate the pain. Octavio only pulls harder, biting his lower lip when you’re almost chest to chest.

“Asshole,” you hiss and he grins, giving you a flash of his tongue piercing.

“You like it,” he says as you relent, going still in his lap. Octavio finally releases his almost too tight grip on one nipple in favor of looping an arm around your waist. He’s torturous to the other, squeezing, rolling, tugging. As a reward for the way you buckled, he slurps the free one into his mouth. You moan, his mouth all wet warmth and cool metal. His thumb flickers teasingly across your other pebbled nipple and you arch your back.

“Oc, please,” you pant and he pulls off of you with a pop, cupping the tit he still has a handle on to flick his tongue across it.

“Por favor? Por favor que?” He half laughs only to break off in a needy groan when you grind against him. “Fuck fuck fuck, okay, stand up for a sec.”

You roll yourself along his dick for a moment longer, relishing in the way his hips instinctually jerk against yours. He squirms beneath you, opting to tightly grab your hips.

“Shit, mami,” Octavio pants, sharply thrusting up before trying to push you off. “C’mon, c’mon, you’re wearing too many clothes.”

You finally climb off him and he follows you forward, sharply pulling down your sweats. A long, sticky trail connects you briefly to them and he outright groans at how filthy that is.

“You’re so wet,” he all but whines, fascinatedly rubbing a finger between your lips. Your breath hitches as he pointedly drags his knuckle across your clit, teasing you with the not quite enough touch.

“Shorts off,” you growl, and he hurriedly obeys. His cock springs free as his shorts hit the carpet and your mouth waters. The tip is swollen and pink, leaking with excitement. You’re half tempted to get on your knees, swipe the pre up with your tongue and put him at your mercy.

“Oh, mami, yes, you can do that for me later,” he babbles, making you realize you’d said that aloud. You try to climb back into his lap, only to have him grab you by the shoulders. You yelp as he tosses you onto your back on the opposite side of the couch, maneuvering himself between your thighs.

You two have been doing this long enough to have done away with condoms and you’re so fucking grateful for that as he pushes himself between your lips. Your slick helps him along as he glides the tip against your aching, swollen clit.

“Oc,” you impatiently murmur and he smirks. Octavio is a bastard at the worst times and not even the bedroom is exempt, because he grabs his shaft and taps the leaking tip of his cock against your clit.

“How bad do you want it, hm?” He asks and if you weren’t so overwhelmed, you’d roll your eyes. You settle for propping yourself up on your elbows and thrusting your hips up. His cock catches on your hole and his breath hitches in his throat.

“That bad, huh?” Octavio breathlessly whispers and you glare at him through the fog of your lust.

“Aren’t you supposed to be quick?”

“You want it to be over? Aw, okay, guess I’ll-“

Before he can pull away, you wrap your legs around his waist and yank him against you. Octavio slips, caught off guard, and he catches himself on the arm of the couch, letting out a strangled groan as the tip of his dick breeches your swollen cunt.

“Fuck,” he grits out, suddenly unconcerned with teasing. He drives himself the rest of the way inside and you sigh, relieved to be so wonderfully full.

“I’m trying,” you gleefully counter and he sharply thrusts into you with a laugh that’s half moan.

You reach around, clawing at his lower back as he fucks into you. His elbow lands on the space next to your neck and you find his hand cupping the crown of your head, simply resting there as he fucks you like he’s trying to win a race.

Octavio moans and curses and whines just as much as you do, his green eyes squeezed shut. You rake your nails up the length of his spine and he groans, giving you an especially brutal thrust. Your mouth falls open and he takes the opportunity to sloppily kiss you, tongue pushing past your lips to twist with yours and he doesn’t taste so much like liquor anymore.

You sob into the kiss as he angles his hips down a little, hitting right there. He gets the picture quickly and he aims just so, abusing that place that makes you see stars. His hips snap into yours and you grab his shoulders for purchase. It’s too much. It’s not enough.

It’s him, pulling away from your kiss to watch you with amazed green eyes. It’s him, grabbing your hips and yanking you onto his dick. It’s him, passing a thumb over your clit, making your eyes roll back. It’s him, hissing your name as his hips begin to stutter and shake. It’s him.

“C’mon, mami, c’mon, I won’t last,” he gasps, fondling your clit desperately and your jaw drops at the sensation. “C’mon, baby, need it, need to feel that tight pussy squeeze my dick, you can do it, do it for me, please, baby, please-“

You say his name as your orgasm hits you, shaking legs tightening so harshly around his waist you can feel every tremor of his hips. He fucks you through it, relentlessly rubbing your clit and you whimper, reaching down to try and shove his hand away. It doesn’t seem to stop him and finally with two, three more thrusts, he’s coming.

Octavio buries his face in your neck, saying something so low and garbled that you barely pick up that it was in Spanish. You don’t care to ask what he said just yet, too busy catching your breath as you clutch his back.

“Shit…” He breathes, turning his head to rest his nose against your still racing pulse. Now, though, it’s not just with need, but you don’t tell him that.

“How’s that for keeping up?” You ask and he snickers, slowly pulling out of you. Octavio reaches down, grabbing his shorts and tucking them beneath your hips to catch the spunk dripping out of you.

“I’ll go get a wash cloth,” he says as you paw at the coffee table for the TV remote. You groan at the time it shows you.

“It’s almost seven, you ass! I have to be to work in two hours!”

“Guess I kept you up all night. At least you weren’t bored.”

“I hate you,” you groan, scrubbing your hands over your eyes. Octavio snickers, making his way towards the bathroom.

“Oh, hey, wait,” you say, propping your head up. He stops short, meeting your gaze. “What did you say? I was kinda preoccupied and didn’t hear.”

“Kinda? You wound me,” Octavio says, placing a hand over his heart. You unceremoniously flip him off. “You think I remember what I said while I was nutting, chica?!”

Octavio grins roguishly. You roll your eyes, throwing one of the couch cushions at him. It doesn’t get anywhere close to hitting him and Octavio snickers, bending down to toss it back onto the couch. “Who knows?”

Octavio turns back to the bathroom and his playful expression slackens. His brow scrunches up as he flicks the light on, closing the restroom door behind him and staring disbelievingly into the mirror.

Te amo, he’d gasped into your neck when he was overwhelmed with the smell of you, the feeling of you, the taste of you.

[starsandskiees]

“The door was open”

1615 words

The Moon and Back Masterlist, Part Two

Cinder returned home with her thoughts still back at the market. That girl, Stella, had stolen from her, and Cinder couldn’t even bring herself to be mad at her. She was probably living on the streets by herself with no food or money. Not even a teenager yet. As Cinder looped through the back entrance to the elevator, she felt guilt like a weight on her shoulders for not helping her.

The elevator pinged in front of her, interrupting her thoughts. Thankfully it was empty. Cinder hit the floor number leading to Kais office and the elevator rose mechanically at the demand. 

When she reached the door to the office, she stopped and leaned against it. Kai looked as if he had been sitting there for hours. His head was bent over his desk, his messy black hair hanging over his eyes. He seemed to be reading some sort of document but the closer Cinder watched she saw he was mostly just blinking at it, trying to stay awake. Her hand slipped into her pocket and ran a finger over the silver moon charm.

“Hey.” Cinder pushed off the doorway and walked toward his desk.

Kais attention snapped to her immediately, when he saw her coming towards him a grin replaced his confused frown.”Back already?”

She shrugged as she took one of the seats opposite from him, “Not much to see today.”

His mouth quirked up like he didn’t quite believe her.

“I got you something.”

His eyebrows shot up. “You did?”

It was Cinders turn to grin. 

“What is it?”

Cinder rolled her eyes, “So impatient. Come, sit.” She beckoned him with her hand, patting the seat next to her.

He warily walked around his desk and took the seat she gestured to, his forehead wrinkled with amused confusion.

“Okay, now close your eyes,” his head tilted to the side, questioning her. She rolled her eyes again, “Just do it, I don’t have a box.”

He obeyed, “What’s the occasion?”

“Do I need one? You buy me things all the time.” She took his hand and uncurled the fingers, placing the necklace delicately in his palm.

“Now...Open them.”

He opened his eyes and looked down at his hand now with a silver chain pooling inside of it. He picked it up gingerly to get a closer look. His thumb brushed over the three white gemstones then flipped it over. The corners of his mouth turned upward as he read the inscription.

Cinder was eyeing him anxiously. Jewelry was a little girly so she was afraid that he might think it was stupid. She didn’t even wear any jewelry besides the plain silver band circling her ring finger, her wedding ring. She knew that Kai was nice enough to pretend to care but she just wanted him to like it as much as she did. 

“Do you like it?”

His eyes met hers, so full of love they took her breath away. “Do I like it? I love it.”

He grabbed her hand and stood up, pulling her with him. His hands went to her waist, he was so close she could feel his breath on her face. “I love you” he murmured under his breath.

“What was that?” Cinder teased, eyebrows raised in challenge.

Kai grinned back, “I said, I” He kissed her cheek, “love,” he kissed her jaw, “you.” He went for a quick peck on her lips but before he could Cinder wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him against her. They had kissed many times before, so many it shouldn’t have felt as passionate as it did. Kai deepened the kiss, his hand going to her hair and bunching it in his fingers. All the sudden he was lifting her onto his desk and as he set her down something crunched beneath her.

Cinder huffed a laugh, “I think I broke something.” Her words were breathy.

Kai responded equally breathy, “I don’t care.”

Cinders legs wrapped around him as he went in for another kiss. Her hands went to his tucked in shirt, pulling it out so she could put her hands under it and feel the skin beneath. Kai made a noise in the back of his throat at her touch, making her hands roam even more. He broke off the kiss hastily but then began to trail kisses down her jaw to her neck. He stopped at the top of her sweatshirt zipper, playing at pulling it down with his teeth. His eyes looked up at hers mischievously.  

She shrugged off his jacket and started to work on the buttons of his dress shirt as Kai unzipped the black sweater she was still wearing from the market.

Someone cleared their throat across the room, snapping them both out of their reverie. 

Konn Torin stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, a glare written across his features. This was definitely not the first time he had walked in on them making out but that didn’t make it any less embarrassing. If Cinder could blush, she would’ve been bright red.

Kai was bright red. His fingers went to his buttons, half undone, and he hastily buttoned them back up. He tried to smooth out his white dress shirt but it was wrinkled beyond repair. Instead he gave up and sighed, “What do you need?”

His eyes narrowed, “I need to talk to Selene.” 

Cinder hopped off the desk and zipped the sweatshirt back up. “I told you before, you can call me Cinder. I’d actually prefer it if you did.”

“Your Highness,” he responded, ignoring her request, “if we could speak alone please.”

He gestured towards the door but Cinder just crossed her arms, mimicking his stance. “Why can’t we talk in front of Kai?”

“Because I know he’ll take your side.”

Kai scoffed, “I can be impartial.” 

Torin raised his eyebrows at the obvious lie. “Even so, this doesn’t involve you.”

Cinder held her ground, planting her feet in stubbornness. She challenged him with a look that said, “Your move”. Her and Torin had the habit of getting into arguments. Mostly about Kai, often about Cinder's behavior. Her obstinance set him on edge. And he still hadn’t let go of the time she returned Kai with a black eye, even as long ago as it had been. 

Torin looked on the verge of rolling his eyes but just sighed and dropped his arms, “Fine.” He walked closer to them, stopping in the center of the room, “You can’t leave the palace without guards present.”

��That’s what you interrupted us for?”

“The door was open.” Their eyes drifted to the open doorway where anyone could have walked past, Kai turned pink once more. 

“I wasn’t aware of that.” He choked out

“I can tell,” he pulled out his port that showed security footage from the back entrance, “Don’t bother denying that you left today, by yourself, for two hours.”

“So?” Cinder shrugged, “I can handle myself. I’m not some helpless civilian, I’ve fought in a war. A walk on the street is nothing.”

“You’re right, you are not a civilian. You’re the Empress of the Eastern Commonwealth which means you’re in even more danger.”

Cinder put her hands on her hips, “I already got the second tracker installed and I carry weapons on me at all times, just like you told me to. I don’t understand why Kai is allowed to go out alone but I’m not.”

Torin glared at Kai, “Emperor Kaito is not allowed to go out alone, despite what he may tell you. There are always people near him, protecting him, I make sure of that.” The surprise on Kai's face revealed that he was unaware of that fact, “The problem is that while he tells me where he goes, you just leave whenever you please.”

Cinder opened her mouth to protest but Torin continued to talk, “Besides that, there are a lot more people out there who would like to see you dead.”

The room went silent for a moment. A dark expression clouded Kai's features. They were all aware of the large number of people who hated Cinder. They hated her for being lunar. They hated her for being a cyborg. They hated her for marrying Kai. Despite all the good that she had done they couldn’t let go of their prejudices. 

Cinder crossed her arms protectively, “It was just a couple of hours in the market. I wore a disguise.”

Torin scoffed. Cinder had made him actually scoff. “A disguise? You think that is a disguise?” He looked upwards like he was asking the heavens for help and sighed deeply, “You can go out whenever you like, just bring guards with you next time or else I swear to you I will lock you up in here and you won’t be able to go anywhere.”

He then turned to the door and walked straight out, leaving no room for argument. After he left, a laugh slipped through Cinders lips and she was soon joined by Kai until they were both laughing hysterically

She broke off, gasping, to say,“Can he actually do that?”

“I want to say no, but I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Another figure was roaming through the doorway towards them. Nainsi whirred softly as she glided across the polished floor towards them, she stopped in front of Cinder.

“Your Highness,” she said mechanically, “there is a cyborg girl at the palace gates that wishes to speak to you.”

Kai tilted his head slightly, “A fan?”

“No, she says she has something of Her Majestys.” 

Kais' expression turned confused but Cinder knew exactly who it was. Stella.

Tag List: 

@theworst-pirate, @narcissacronin, @optamisticsmiles, @cinderswrench, @anarchists-87

Let me know if you want to be added :)

[kingofdirtandnothing]

@polyfacetious big ass Christmas Drabble Extravagaza: Day Six

Alexander was the best kind of regular. He was the curious kind. He would come to the shop, squint up at the chalkboard with those lovely blue eyes, and then finally choose the next thing on the list. If he was trying to be subtle about slowly working his way down the menu, then he needed some work. It was sweet, it was just not subtle.

But today, he’d come in and sat himself up at one of the tables near the window, an impressive scowl painted across that pretty face. (Alexander had some remarkably expressive eyebrows. You could read his mood with them alone.)

Which meant Magnus was spending his morning rush worrying about what exactly had set his favorite customer on such a sour path this morning. He spares a glance over while he steams milk for a matcha latte, and finds Alec staring daggers out of the shop’s front window. But there was no one out there. And Magnus was reasonably certain that Alexander wasn’t angry with Diego’s taco stand. 

What could make such a sweet natured man so sour? It wasn’t girlfriend trouble, Magnus knew that much, thanks to one memorable morning where a young lady gave Alexander her number and when she walked away, he looked at it like she’d handed him a raw mackerel. Boyfriend troubles, maybe?

Magnus hoped not, for his own selfish reasons. He could practically feel Bilbo’s eyes on him from across the shop. Yes yes, he knew he had to get on his side of the promise. No, he wasn’t going to do it right now, in broad daylight in an open tea shop, Bilbo Baggins. Stop judging. 

With the last customer of this burst gone away with their tea and their scones and their lovely pastries, Magnus slips out from behind the counter before his good sense could get the better of him. “Lovely day, isn’t it?” That felt like a good enough segue into conversation, given the fact that Alexander was currently glaring at a cloud. 

But much like the clouds would break this afternoon and the sun would shine through, that sour expression on Alexander’s face breaks apart and reveals the sunshine of his lovely smile beneath. A sheepish, nervous smile, but a smile nonetheless. “Uh..yeah. It is.”

That’s all the opening that Magnus needed. He slips into the seat across from Alec at the small bistro table, hands clasped in front of him. His nails were a gorgeous sea green, in keeping with the summer season. There was even a sheen of glitter built into the polish itself. Magnus was positively in love with the color. “How have you been?” Magnus has to resist the urge to jump straight to ‘what’s wrong?’ People didn’t like being called out like that.

“Oh, good. I’m good.” Alexander was a squirmer, when he was nervous. Magnus knew because he never saw Alec move around in his seat like a worm on a hook until Magnus was sitting across from him. It was flatteringly adorable. “You?”

“I’m wonderful, thank you.” And if he didn’t get them out of this cesspool of polite conversation, they might never get to the meat of the problem. Magnus only had so long until his next batch of regulars came in. A quick glance at the clocked showed him it was a little before 8:30. He had about twenty minutes for this conversation, tops. 

What a world to live in, when reckless and carefree Magnus Bane cared enough about a man’s opinion to schedule in time to talk him through his feelings between customers. Bilbo was probably cackling into his dough right as they spoke. The bastard. 

“So why don’t you tell me why you’ve been sitting here, looking like the most handsome thundercloud I’ve ever laid eyes on?” So maybe that was laying it on a bit thick. But Alexander was a sight for sore eyes on any day, effortlessly gorgeous. It was enough to take someone like Magnus, who spent half an hour in front of the mirror every morning, feel jealous. 

Then again, getting to lay eyes on that effortlessly handsome face every day was enough to push the jealousy back and replace it with a four letter word. 

Lust. The word was lust. Not the other “L” word, which Magnus was going to avoid the damned plague. 

Alexander stutters for a moment, blue eyes huge and wide before he gives up, laughing at himself as he turns his eyes back to the window. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’m not trying to bring the mood down or anything.” Alec’s accent was all New York, and before him, Magnus would have never thought that was something he would find attractive. 

An English accent was lovely. An Irish accent was enough to make a man weak in the knees. Magnus himself had a personal weakness when it came to French accents. But in the grand scheme of American accents, New York wouldn’t be anywhere near the top of the list. Or at least, it wouldn’t have been before Alexander. 

There was something about the way he spoke, the same kind of effortless charm that went with his finger combed hair and his (truly hideous, it was a marvel) worn out sweaters. Magnus has always loved a sharp dressed man. But there was something so incredibly genuine about Alec Lightwood that it had made its way under his skin, and he couldn’t get free. 

“You don’t bring the mood down.” Far from it. Seeing Alexander was often the highlight of Magnus’ day. “So go ahead and tell me what’s on your mind.” Magnus cups his chin in his palm, watching Alec through the fan of his lashes. He was never going to tire of the way Alec’s eyes darted down to his lips when Magnus spoke. It was the kind of thing that could make a man’s ego get too big. 

Not Magnus, of course. He was the very picture of...there was no reason to even finish that ridiculous sentence. Magnus was fantastic, and he quite appreciated it when other people thought he was fantastic as well. 

“It’s just that my sister is getting married.” There was that scowl again, dipping across dark brows before it disappears. “And I’m happy for her, really. But she’s having this whole big party about it, and there’s dancing.” Alexander says dancing the way someone else might say bamboo spikes under fingernails. Like it was torture. 

“And you have to dance?” Alexander nods, like a man on his way to the gallows. “So what’s the issue here? Do you not have someone you want to dance with?” Is it cruel to hope that Alec doesn’t have a date he wants to dance with? “Or is it that you don’t know how to dance?”

Alec’s little smile tugs up further on one side of his mouth than the other. Gods, he was a sight. “Both, honestly.”

Both. Which means that Magnus had not one, but two chances to whirl his way into Alexander’s life outside of this little table and the shop around it. This was a chance to see Alexander out in the world, to be a part of his life and not just set dressing. 

“I could teach you.” That absolutely came out too quickly. But this was a blue moon of an opportunity. It would only come around once. So Magnus had to take advantage while he still could. “I used to teach dance. I lived in Spain for a year or two.” Magnus had lived all over in his time. It would honestly be faster just to tell him the places that he hadn’t lived, rather than go through his spiel of all the places he’s called home over the years. 

“Salsa. Flamenco. Even a little ballroom dancing and waltz, which I’d imagine is what your sister is going to want for her party.”

Alec was watching him with wonder on his pretty face. Magnus has to resist the urge to preen. That wouldn’t go well with the whole humble teacher act he was going for here. “How much do you charge by the hour?”

Now that would be a lovely innuendo and segue if this was Magnus looking to climb Alexander like the lovely willow tree he was. But Magnus had to admit to himself, and only to himself, that his feelings were involved in this mess. He didn’t (just) want to give Alec the night of his life. He wanted to stick around for breakfast in the morning too. 

“No charge.” Magnus waves away the protest he can see building on Alec’s lips. He wasn’t the type of man who enjoyed handouts. There was a pride to him, beneath all that rakish charm. “I haven’t taught in ages. I wouldn’t be up to par for being paid anyway. But I can dust the rust off and you can learn enough to cut a rug and make yourself the envy of your sister’s wedding.”

Alec makes a sour face, and Magnus can’t help but laugh. “Fine. I can dust the rust off and you can be a perfectly passable dancer and not draw any undue attention to yourself at your sister’s wedding. How’s that sound?”

Alexander’s shoulders soften and droop down, and the smile he gives Magnus is equal parts relief and something more playful. If Magnus wasn’t already aware how much trouble he was in, then he would have figured it out right at this instant. Because he was in Trouble with a Capital T. “That sounds great, Magnus. Thanks.”

There were people milling outside of the door that the tea shop shared with Bag End Bakery. Two women with big cat’s eyes sunglasses were checking their phones, and their watches, respectively. They were waiting for someone. Which meant in the next few minutes, they’d be coming inside to order, and it would be back to work.

Magnus looks back over at the clock. 8:50. How did time manage to fly by so fast when he was talking to Alec? It was like magic. 

But all good things must come to an end. “How about you can come by here after close. We can move the tables out of the way, and we have a nice wood floor to practice on.” Magnus plucks the napkin out from under Alec’s cup, pulling the pen from behind his ear so he could start to scribble down his phone number.

“For now, wear something comfortable tonight. Something you can move in. Basketball shorts and a t-shirt or a tanktop are what I usually practice in. And wear the most comfortable pair of tennis shoes that you have. We’ll lay the ground work before we get you practicing in the shoes you’ll be wearing at the wedding.”

Magnus writes his name beneath the number with a flourish, and in a moment of pique, he draws a heart on a balloon string next to his name. He even draws the little square in the corner of the heart balloon, like it’s catching the glint of the summer sun on it’s plastic surface. If his intentions weren’t clear before, this would make them neon bright. Hopefully. 

“Here.” He slides the paper napkin back over to Alec, looking over his shoulder as the women spill into the shop, chattering among themselves like a gaggle of sparrows sitting on a wire. They would be ordering from Bilbo and then they would make their way over to his side of the shop. Time was up. 

“Tonight. 8pm. I’ll be here.” 

Feeling especially bold, Magnus reaches over once he stands and pats Alec’s hand. His skin was warm, and soft. Lovely. Every bit of that man was lovely, and Magnus was in so very deep over his head. 

“You be here too.” That’s a playful little waggle of his finger in front of Alec’s nose before Magnus darts back behind the counter, calling out to the women that had broken away from their group at the pastry case to head his way. 

[nervousladytraveler]

The Distance Between Us

A quickie, inspired by social distancing fanfic prompts courtesy of @jomiddlemarch   This chapter contains: bleach, handshake, home, song, toilet paper, quarantine (soap, social, & kindness implied). 

A/N: Covid-19 related, so if that’s too raw for you, I get it, scroll on by. Also “Do It Clean” is by Echo And The Bunnymen ℗ 1980 Warner Music UK Ltd. 

Listen here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wjbTCI8o0X4

Chapter One: Deep Clean

Ross Poldark turned the key in the lock then tossed his case inside ahead of him. He was exhausted. Tired of working fourteen plus hour days, tired of international flights longer than that, and most recently he’d grown tired of worrying about the uncertain state of the world around him. But whatever dangers he’d been exposed to over the past week, he currently showed no signs of illness, and most importantly he was home. Now he could self isolate, pour himself a nice single malt, and just be alone.

He stepped into the hallway of his flat but whatever comfort he might have derived from being in his own space was immediately deflated. The place reeked of citrus and bleach, sharp and cloying smells that tingled in his nose and caught in his throat. The windows in this high rise block only opened a few inches but surely the cleaning woman could have still managed that or thought to air the place out some other way? A fan maybe?

Of course she wouldn’t. Ross hadn’t much faith in Prudie, the woman who’d been cleaning his flat for over a year, and had grown accustomed to her shoddy work. The truth was he felt somewhat sorry for her. On the first day she arrived she spilled her life story--she worked long hours at crap pay to support an alcoholic husband. Ross suspected if he gave her a poor rating with the service who sent her, she might get sacked, so instead he said nothing. To his chagrin they interpreted that to mean he was satisfied and sent her regularly from that point on. But it mattered little. Ross lived alone and was generally a tidy person so there wasn't much she really had to do week to week. In fact he was somewhat surprised she managed to be as thorough as she had today. Then again he had put in a special order with the service for a deep clean.

“And she’s left the lights on too,” he grumbled. He moved further into the flat and saw they were blazing in all the rooms. That’s when he heard it.

“I've been here, there, everywhere

Here there nowhere

Iszy bitzy witzy itzy everywhere

I've been here and I've been there…”

A voice, high and sweet was coming from another room. Mostly on key, with only a little wobble on the harmony, that was immediately followed by a giggle then spirited humming.

Ross followed the song to the small but well-appointed galley kitchen down the hall. That’s when he saw her.

A woman, most certainly not Prudie, was down on her knees, wiping the sparkling tile floor, her backside facing Ross as he stood in the doorway. He felt a tinge of shame that his initial thought was that whoever she was, she had a rather attractive bum, noticeable through the jeans she wore. She had a tangle of red hair twisted back into a loose knot but a few soft curls had escaped and moved when she did. She had earbuds in which is why she hadn't heard him creep up on her but must have sensed she was no longer alone and turned her head with a start.

“Oh!” she said loudly, then promptly lost her balance and fell, the beautiful bum now planted on the wet floor. She yanked an ear bud out and stared up at Ross with wide, scared eyes. He noticed they were the same sparkling blue as the bottle of Windolene she was still holding.

“Sorry to startle you,” he said at once and stepped forward to offer her a hand, then stopped himself. He didn't want to sully her impressive work with his dirty shoes--and he had to get it through his thick skull that hand shaking was absolutely a thing of the past. “I’m Ross Poldark. I live here. I assume the service sent you?” he added, eyeing the red pinny she wore over a long sleeved black t shirt.

“Oh, Mister Poldark,” she said quickly and got to her feet. “So sorry, sir. We weren’t expectin’ you until Tuesday,” she said apologetically. “But I’m almost done and I can be out of here shortly…”

“No worries,” he tried to reassure her. “I had to cut my travels short because of the…”

“Yes, of course. Flights are all mostly cancelled I heard. You’re lucky you made it home at all,” she said, apparently no longer terrified he was an intruder. He was glad to see her smile, and curiously felt a warmth wash over him, a light relief that he hadn’t felt in days.

“You’re not Prudie,” he said.

“No, sir, I’m not. She was feelin’ poorly so she was told to stay home,” she explained.

“Prudie’s sick?” he asked, concerned.

“No more than a sniffle. Nothin’ to be worried about, I’m sure.” Now she was reassuring him. “I’m Demelza,” she added.

Ross recognised her accent the more she spoke. It had been a long time since he’d heard such rich Cornish tones, and he felt a homesickness he hadn’t experienced in years.

“Well, I’m sorry to have interrupted your work, Demelza,” he said and managed a smile.  “I’m going to unpack and then take a hot shower. That is, if I won’t be in your way?”

“Oh, no sir!” she said brightly. ”I’ve already cleaned the bathroom. Deep clean, just as you requested. And you needn’t fret about running out of loo rolls, Mister Poldark--you’ve got plenty,” she winked playfully.

“Please, call me Ross,” he said. “Being called ‘sir’ just makes me feel old.”

“No one likes to feel old.”

She’d replied with such a knowing sigh that made Ross curious of her own age. It was hard to gauge. The shapeless pinny would make anyone appear frumpy, though her pretty face--completely free of any makeup--looked young. Perhaps she was a student who also did cleaning to get by. But she’d been listening to Echo and the Bunnymen, which suggested she might be older than he’d initially thought.

“Well it was nice to meet you, Ross. Welcome home.” She smiled again and Ross wondered how he might diplomatically arrange to have her as his regular cleaning woman, instead of Prudie.

----

Still knackered but nevertheless relaxed, Ross walked into the dim living room dressed only in a towel. He regretted leaving wet footprints on the polished floors but at least his bare feet were clean. He was finally alone and ready to bask in the solitude he’d been craving for days. The solitude that was necessary given his potential exposure over the past week. How many conference rooms and airports had he been in since last Thursday?

As much as he had enjoyed his brief encounter with the new cleaner, he regretted that he’d had any contact with her under these circumstances. But there was most likely nothing to worry about. She’d been wearing marigolds and he’d kept at least six feet away from her.  Still, perhaps he should reach out to let her know the risks all the same. Would the cleaning service even give him her number? Most likely not but they could pass on a message.

He’d been around countless airport security agents as well, and then there was the taxi driver--so why did Demelza feel different to him? Was it that they were nameless or that he’d met her in his own home?

He poured the whisky he’d also been craving but before he took a sip, heard his mobile buzz.

Damn! This is getting very real, very fast, he thought when he saw the message that had scrolled across his screen. He took a drink, only now it wasn’t a sip but a hearty slug meant to offer some courage.

Then the doorbell rang, shattering the silence. It was unexpected and unwanted. He didn’t relish the idea of having to dress or see anyone. Well, whomever was calling would not be invited in. He was unwavering on that score.

Ross pushed the button on the video intercom system and was surprised, and also a little pleased to see just who had rung.

“Demelza!” he said and threw open the door without hesitation. So much for his resolution.

“I’m sorry, Mister Poldark..erm, Ross, so sorry!” She was near tears. He stepped aside to allow her in, carefully maintaining his distance.

“What is it? Are you hurt?” he asked, wishing he could touch her arm or even hold her hand to offer consolation. She was clearly distressed.

“The Underground. And the buses,” she began breathlessly. “All public transport has been shut down, and I...I don't have any way to get home. I was gonna start walkin’ but it’s so far, it would take hours. And then the streets were so empty and I just felt really...unsafe. I didn't know what else to do, where else to go...” Her voice wobbled and her eyes were wet.

“No, no. It was the right thing to do. Come in, please,” he said, then suddenly grew aware that he was wearing just the towel. That didn't seem to faze her though, she’d been so rattled, caught off guard by how suddenly things had shifted. And he had other news to share with her, another turn of the screw.

“Demelza, you are welcome to stay here. Well, I mean you have to stay here. There’s just been a declaration. We’ve all just been asked to stay home. Required in fact. All of us are..”

“Like under house arrest?” she cried.

“Quarantined.”

“Oh,” she said, still reeling from the shock.

“There’s only one bedroom--and only the one bed--but you can have the sofa,” he offered. “I need to be honest with you. I’ve just come from the States--the west coast--and so as a precaution I’ll need to keep away from you.”

She said nothing but bit her lip as she puzzled out her next move.

“But then again, you of all people know the flat is clean,” he tried laughing.

“Well, then,” she said finally. “I’d better go wash my hands.”

------

[mandalorian-bitch]

Behind the scenes

The Mandalorian Modern AU.

Pairing: The Mandalorian x fem!reader

Summary: You are a photographer and a cosplay convention worker. Nothing really interesting happens at these events, but this one... this one brings different feelings when you met that man wearing a glowing helmet.

Warnings: none.

A/N: Well, it is my very first time writing some mandalorian stuff. I'm sorry if it's a little too long and boring, I promise it will get better with time. I actually saw a mandalorian cosplayer at a convention I've worked last year so somethings here may be real. Since English isn't my mother language you may found some grammar errors while reading and if you do, please, let me know so I can fix it :). Hope you enjoy this!

----------------------

You always liked cosplay, it was never a secret. In the beginning your parents thought it was just a hobby, then they told you it was madness and a total loss of time spending months organizing an event and then more hours strolling with a camera in your hand. But then they understood that it makes you happy, in your way of being happy.

It is almost a relief, both for you and for anyone who participates of these events, being who you really are. The vast majority awaits a whole year for the convention, it's like one of the few places where you can act according to your strange taste for space wars or romance about vampires. Or more recent, the k-pop fans. Once a year, you are not the weird nerd who sits alone at lunch break. Everyone there is in the same boat to suffer bullying from elementary school to college, even at work, but there we all are the same.

Cosplayers carry a little bit of each character with them, and they seem to do the magic of movie superheroes as they enter a dark alley like civilians and get out of there in extravagant fantasies. Their look changes, so as their physiognomy, all insecurities, low self-esteem, anxiety and the many social issues that plague most of us simply stays outside the event. People stop them while walking around the event, asking for pictures in character poses, and most of the time it's you who takes the pictures. In addition, you help them to wear the clothes and everything, like a staff. It does not pay much, but it already helps until something better comes up. You graduated at Design school about two years ago and has been a difficult time for professionals in this area, now that anyone downloads Photoshop and some more templates ready for small companies and many of them prefer to pay less for it. Still, you have good friends and they always designate you for some freelance that pays enough to insure yourself for a month or two, until something new appears. Being a photographer helps too, since being at an event full of people wanting good photos already yields a few hundred in your Paypal account. Most cosplayers look quite eccentric, in fact, and barely speak. When they speak, they do not leave the character in a scary, but funny way at the same time. Leaving insecurities without becoming one asshole is very difficult in these cases, but some are nice people. Like a guy who always brings his girlfriend to the event and every year they wear a different cosplay couple. This year, he was Han Solo and she was Princess Leia.

“Hey, (y/n)! Can you take a picture of us?” the boy approached, smiling, holding his girlfriend's hand.

“Sure!” You adjusted the focus of the camera the moment an armoured guy passed behind them.

You have seen that model of armour, of course. There is no way to forget Boba Fett's armour. You didn't know much about the culture involved, but remembered that there was some race or creed and thought it was cool. You could imagine the work he must have done to assemble each piece of this armour. It was silver, with very good details, as if he really was using steel and had been fighting against a dragon or something like.

Anyway, it caught your attention.

The couple moved closer to look at the photo and a second of you looking at the camera, still a little fascinated by the figure, was enough to lose the sight of him when you looked behind them again. Curious. You showed the photo to them while still looking around, looking for the armoured man who walked so calmly a few seconds ago.

“Thank you!” The girl smiled, looking at the photo. When she noticed the figure glossy in the background, her eyes sparkled. “Woow! Is this a Boba Fett or what?!”

“I thought the same thing! But I don't think it's exactly Boba.” You smiled, putting a lock of hair behind your ear. “If you guys find him, say that I want to take some pictures, something for… the event.” They waved and kept walking.

When you thought you saw the helmet strolling through the crowd again, Greef Karga, your supervisor touches your shoulder and makes your attention turn to him.

“(Y/n), I need you to help with some troubles in the dressing room, silly thing but they need someone with experience in dealing with those dickheads” He sighed. Greef, a black guy over fifty years. He also wore a dark blue shirt with the logo of the event as you did and had a moustache. He was like a second father to you, and always supported the event and even got you some freelances.

“Alright.”

The problem in the dressing room was between two women, one using a blonde wing and the other, using a long, red wing. The ‘blonde’ one swore that the redhead had stolen her blue eyeliner and the redhead, in addition to denying it, swore even in her mother’s name that the blonde one had stolen her Lancôme foundation. Nothing that had never happened before, but it was certainly something that should not spread out through the corridors.

“This red bitch steals my eyeliner! This is absurd, is there no security in this place? Cameras?” said the blonde, her wig gave an extra head on her size. Her makeup half-finished and still wearing only the pants of what would be her cosplay.

“Not here, because you change clothes in here.” You started, in a calm voice. Saying ‘please, calm down’ isn’t the better thing to say to someone who’s clearly not at the mood to calm down. The best thing is to transmit this through your voice and the way you look. “Have you looked calmly in the bags? Maybe near the mirrors?”

“I already showed all my things to this bitch and she keeps accusing me!” The redhead spoke between her teeth, her blue eyes burning in anger. She was wearing a 20 centimeters high heels and a white dress that make her look like a Greek goddess.

You started looking around, but to no avail, while they keep yelling to each other. It was better to find at least one of the things before they started to fight with the wooden swords they brought, if so things were going to get really worse. The anime songs playing in the background didn't help much and more and more cosplayers approached to ask what was going on.

There was nothing more hateful than kneeling on that floor, full of fantasy remains, hair - some wigs, others were real hair - feathers and scattered glitter. But still you got on your knees and started looking as fast as you could, touching under the various suitcases left on the floor and asking for permission where you were crawling. Until you look under one of the dressing room mirrors, the ones with the lights around, and see a clear bottle. The damn foundation must have fallen and the redhead, so worried about something else, didn't notice. The bottom of the bottle had “Kayla” written with red nail polish.

“Who's Kayla?” You asked.

The redhead looked down and her face fell into an expression that seemed a mixture of shame and joy at finding the base.

“See it? I said I didn't stole anything!” The blonde said, sighing and looking to you “How cool, she got the damn foundation back. But where's my eyeliner?!”

“Is that an eyeliner?” a modulated voice echoed behind you.

Slowly, you stood up and looked back to face the armoured man. He was pointing to the blonde, but not actually to her. It was something at her. You were very impressed with the voice, the helmet must have some technology stuff that could make his voice sound this way and it's amazing. Not every cosplayer pay attention to this detail when wearing a character that wears a helmet. It looks like there’s no difference, but it actually does.

Here are you again wondering about the “silver Boba Fett” (that’s how you decided to call him in your mind until remember what character he’s wearing).

“Can I?” he asked and after receiving a nod from the blonde, he approached her carefully.

You, Kayla and two other cosplayers were watching the scene. Lightly, he removed something caught between her huge hairstyle, without ruining the whole thing.

“Here you got.” He gently said with a smooth chuckle in the end.

“T-thank you". It was almost a whisper. She received the eyeliner and looked down.

“You’re welcome.”

“Apparently it was with you all the time.” You said, shrugging your shoulders and making a ‘I told you to look calmly to things, girl’ face.

They were both embarrassed, but at least they had stopped accusing each other and cursing in every possible way.

“I think it's everything okay now, right?” You asked and they just waved, without looking at each other. “Well, good luck in the competition, girls!”

“Sorry for the uproar...” Kayla looked at your little badge, with an expression still a little embarrassed.“(Y/n), thanks for your time.”

You smiled in a corner as you looked for the armoured man. “and you-"

He was no longer there. You stared at the place where he should have been, and for a few seconds you looked around, but to no avail. It was funny to still look for him, even though he is just a stranger with a very good cosplay with whom you would like to exchange a couple of words, take some pictures, maybe have a coffee...

After leaving the room, a cosplayer dressed as Geralt of Rivia approached.

A guy of almost two meters, in full costume and holding the saddlebag with both swords, looked like a wall standing in front of him.

“Hi, uh... I wanted to register for the contest, can you help me with this, (y/n)? - His voice was deep, but it didn't seem to have anything to do with the character, as he sounded naturally strong and calm. After a while in this environment, you learn to differentiate.

“Ah, yes, I'll take you there!”

---

You stepped away from the crowded areas a bit and went close to the backstage, texting other co-workers to see if anyone needed any help somewhere. There always was, but no one answered in a while, so you got a sandwich in the cafeteria and leaned close to the staff room to eat where the crowd didn't seem to notice you. Behind a big event, a lot happens. A lot of things go wrong, but also every little thing that works, each small problem solved without causing curious eyes, was a big good thing to the convention. The work was simple, in general, and you didn't have much to worry about except the public's entertainment and mainly: Don't annoy cosplayers. They suck at observing and praising good things, but are quick to see any loose wire on the wall to complain about the risk of electric shock on social media. Of course not all of them were like this but still, there are always a dozen assholes to ruin your year-long job in a few minutes by typing 280 characters on Twitter.

But the armoured guy... He seemed to be oblivious to the two types mentioned. You didn't see him in the dressing room, when you had to go there, or at the event's photo studio. There was always a glimpse of the shiny helmet standing out from everyone, and you always gave a silly little smile when he waved that helmet to you. And it's very important to remember the helmet, because you haven't seen it without it all day. And you have been curious, curious to ask several silly questions.

Did he not eat all day? Worse, didn't he drink water?! You finished the sandwich with that feeling that you should see if he ate just to see if he would agree to go to the cafeteria with you later. But of course you got busy sometimes, so there’s no way to be a stalker.

“(Y/n)??? HEY!” Greef waved his arms in front of your face, as if he wanted to wake you up from something, but you weren't sleeping-

Oh.

“Oh, sorry, Greef. I got distracted” You hugged yourself awkwardly.

He shook his head in disapproval and opened the employees’ room door to show you something.

“Well, there are some boxes to carry to the warehouse, back there.” he pointed to the other side of the place. At least you wouldn't have to go through the crowd, you could go behind the stage and then through the sides.

An easy work, however, there is always something heavy to do. You agreed and saw the image of Greef Karga getting lost among the nerds he hated so much, precisely because he was one of them since the 1980s. You faced the three boxes, probably full of cables and other production's stuff and ran your hand through your hair to arrange it in a high bun, so it wouldn't disturb you.

You carried each box out of the room and stacked the three outside, closing the door. Okay, you can do it.

Can't you?

Carrying all three at once would save time and of course it was unreliable to take one at a time, leaving it alone and being stolen, who knows? You bend down to try to load them, but it was kind of obvious that it wouldn't work. You try again and even let out a few grunts, but it still doesn't work. The crowd in front of you remains like a cluster of ants that have something better to do and by the rules you should never accept help from anyone but your co-workers.

“Alright.” You sigh and take out your cell phone, texting your closest colleagues.

Nobody answered, nor even read. In half an hour you should be on stage as a good staff and help the cosplay competition.

"That sounds heavy," again, the modulated voice caught your attention.

The helmet's T-visor focused on your eyes, you could feel it.

“Yeah... I don't know if they do this to me because it's my first year at this convention, I had worked in many other but-" a sigh comes out of your lips and he analyses you carefully, with his hands at his sides. “You don't even have to hear that, I shouldn't complain about these things with a-“

You stop when you were going to say something wrong, at least for the situation.

“With a strange nerd wearing an armour and a toy gun around his waist?” His metallic voice sounded serious, but in such a serious way that it was funny.

You kind of laughed, looking around.

“It was just a joke, I guess” he added and then laughed too.

His laugh send a heat to your heart.

“I didn't want to-, I don't even know which character you are, you know... I'm sorry for that, but I really have to start carrying this.” You try to change the subject.

“Would you... would you like some help there, (y/n)?”

The way he says your name behind this half-robot, half-Iron Man effect, sent a shiver down your spine. I wasn't the first stranger to say your name, of course, you carry a damn name tag on your chest. And you would love to accept help, but you shouldn't accept it or someone could see it and then you would lose the next two days of the convention by being fired.

“I thank you, really, but if someone see-"

“No one will see, I can walk behind the stage.” he pointed to the dark part where only employees pass from time to time.

“I can't, really” You smiled in a corner and held the first box in your arms, when an idea came to your mind and you looked to him. “Actually, you can help me...”

He approached the boxes and you put a hand on the path, almost touching the breastplate of the armor. He looked at you, probably confused under the helmet.

“You stay here and watch the two boxes while I take this one. So you help me and no one notices.”

“Okay, I can do this.” His voice sounded amused and you could feel his grin behind the helmet.

“You stay, okay?” You straightened the box in your arms and started walking. “Keep your beautiful armor right where. Don't move"

He laughed and raised his arms as if surrendering. So you kept walking to the dark part of the stage, walking slowly. Halfway there, you thought that you being followed by someone, but it was just an employee passing by quickly without looking at you.

When you arrived at the warehouse door, you turned your back to push this and went in that way with the box still in your arms. Walking around the warehouse was a little difficult with the amount of boxes lying on the floor, especiallyin low light, so you took a look at the box label to find out on which shelf you should leave it. Leaving the box in place, you turned to go back and gave a surprise look when you saw the two other boxes at the door, with a handwritten note on top of these.

“It is a mandalorian armor :) - D.”

A silly little smile formed on your lips and you kept the note.

Of course the most sensible thing to do, having just a few minutes until the competition, was to organize the boxes. After doing this, the first thing that comes to mind is looking for the guy with the helmet in the place where you supposedly left.

But there was no sign of him.

---

After touring the rest of the event trying to find the mandalorian, you gave up. Maybe he got tired of walking around with the costume, or him got too hot to stand with this or he simply had something better to do.

You just sat next to the stage, in the last hope of seeing you going to the cosplay competition in the shiny armor he wore. Each person who walked to the stage caught your attention, but none looked like a mandalorian, and neither they wore a similar armor.

After all, why was it so important? Armor guys comes and goes, it's not the first crazy person who incorporates too much the character to mess with you feelings. It's just a helmet fetish or something like that. There was once a guy who was cosplaying Halo's Masterchief; also had the red Power Ranger, and a black one, and pink ranger too... One time or another you would find him, or find a Boba Fett, who knows? There is still two days of event to find out.

Still, it was funny to remember how he disappears in the crowd, like he didn't really wanted to be noticed. But why the hell he wouldn't want to be? Himself chose to wear armor and come to a cosplay event, and walk around with all that bounty hunter's way around the place pulling out the eyes and whispers from all the nerds girls - and some guys too. And even though perfect in what he set out to do, apparently he doesn't want to be seen. And well, he kind of helped you solve two problems on the same day.

“And to close with a golden key, we will receive with a round of applause the our Witcher, Geralt of Rivia!” the female voice that announced each cosplayer made the thoughts stop a little while you enjoyed the perfect cosplay that paraded on stage.

The colorful lights danced as the cosplayer walked and shook his swords, even put some sound effects behind to bring a little more magic at the moment. Everything in the place became magical, in fact, the very energy that cosplayers exuded behind the stage was full of adrenaline and a touch of anxiety. But still, it was a very good energy. They felt alive to be there, to show that they trained and decorated each step of the character and that they could show it in front of the almost four thousand strangers without fear.

And when you looked at the audience, there he was, standing still and calm as he was all day. You wondered why he didn't sign up for the parade, and why he would still be there if so. The figure shone on the stage lights, with his hands on the bottom of his belly, and looked around like a security camera. It was funny, until he stopped and seemed to be staring directly to you, but not in a totally scary way.

Okay, a bit scary.

The audience went crazy with the cosplayers' performances on stage, you caught yourself with a open mouth now and then. Everyone clapped by the end of the parade and dispersed for a few moments, until the time the result would be announced. This take about 5 minutes at most, so you had to be quick and organize the awards together with Greef and one more intern, Rose. She was always so kind and very friendly to you, so that was easy to get everything prepared in a few minutes and you get up to the stage and gave the woman who presented the competition, so you could run to your comfortable spot behind the stage.

“Well guys,” she started saying in the microphone, looking for the paper on her hands. “It seems like we have our very first two finalists of our cosplay competition today!”

Everyone in the crowd clapped and yelled in excitement, but for the thousand time when you searched for the mandalorian he just disappeared. Well, in the end, he's not the ‘to be found’ type, but the ‘to find you'. So you had an idea.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Thanks for reading! :)

[dyscrasia-eucrasia]

Part 1

Next>>

"Hey, uh, so we're Bacchus," the lead singer said, leaning into the microphone. Immediately, Angel doubted the rumors he'd heard. No way this guy was related to Marius. He had none of Marius' charisma. He hunched his shoulders, spoke softly, and stumbled over his words. His long hair looked like it hadn't been washed in a day or two, and he had a ratty goat beard. He wore an Iron Maiden shirt that, even under the bar's shitty stage lights, looked extremely faded. 

Sure, he was wearing fuzzy pants and a pair of curled ram's horns that looked especially realistic, but that just made him seem even more like a weak imitation. It was like he'd chosen curled horns specifically to throw people off the fact that he was riding on Marius' coat tails. 

The drummer looked even more out of place. She was a sturdy-looking woman, with long blonde hair cut into blunt bangs. She hadn't even dressed the part of a member of a heavy metal band, wearing an anime t-shirt and jeans. 

And that was it for the band. No bass player, no keyboardist. Just drums and a guitar. 

Angel leaned back against the bar, thinking to himself that this was gonna suck. 

The lead singer looked back at the drummer and nodded. She counted off on her sticks and the crowd got a little quieter. 

And then the entire bar was hit by a wall of sound. The drums were wild and frenetic, some of the best Angel had ever heard. But they paled in comparison to the guitar. The lead singer was absolutely shredding it, going faster and harder than anyone Angel had ever seen live. The bar erupted into cheering, and a scuffle of moshing started down by the stage. 

Then the singer opened his mouth and began to sing, and Angel felt like he would've been knocked over if he weren't leaning against the bar. The singer's voice was a deep baritone that reverberated across the venue. Angel wasn't even hearing it, but feeling it rattle his sternum. 

The singer finished a verse and launched into a wild guitar solo, his hair flying around him as he banged his head to the beat. The awkwardness of his introduction melted away, and he became a commanding figure on the stage, despite how slim and gangly he was. 

He straightened again, grabbing the mic, and launched into a harsh growl that came up from his chest. The crowd went absolutely wild, and Angel's head began to spin. It was like he was drunk, but also like he was horny, but also like he wanted to grab someone's head and smash it into a brick wall. He could see down in the mosh pit that elbows were flying, faces were getting bloody, and no one seemed to care. 

The band went through an entire set, but time had stopped meaning anything at some point and all the songs bled together. Angel could pick out some of the lyrics, things about gods and monsters and heroes. It was messy and violent, but at the same time somehow painfully erotic, and the audience was hooked on every line. 

Then, suddenly, it was over. "Thank you," the singer shouted into the mic, "like I said, we're Bacchus, thanks to Rattlesnake for having us open for them, they're great guys. We'll be up by the bar for the rest of the night, come buy a shirt or buy us a beer or something, ya fuckin' animals." 

That was right, they weren't even the headliner act. The rest of the bar screamed in excitement for Rattlesnake, but for Angel, it was like a spell had broken. All the awe and energy he'd felt was sapped away in an instant, the minute the band left the stage. Who the fuck even cared about Rattlesnake, anyways? 

He could see now why there were rumors that the lead singer of Bacchus was related to Marius. Marius' style was different, more polished, more theatrical, but they had the same sort of resonance to their voice, and similar guitar work. Not like they were copycats of one another, more like they came from the same musical family. 

Angel slumped onto a bar stool, exhausted. He hadn't even joined the pit - it would look pretty bad, showing up for work with bruises - but he still felt like he'd been beat within an inch of his life. 

He was just thinking about leaving when he looked over and saw the band's lead singer - he was hard to miss, towering over even the biggest of guys - down at the end of the bar, ordering. Based on the way the crowd had reacted to him, Angel would've assumed he'd be swarmed by fans, but he was pretty much alone. A quick scan of the crowd showed that the drummer was sitting at a merch table, chatting with someone, but her side of the table was a ghost town, while a large knot of people were in line for the Rattlesnake side. 

Angel had never actually approached any musicians after shows. It just seemed too needy, too parasocial. He was approached by enough weirdoes after work himself to not want to put someone else in that position. But the lead singer was magnetic. Angel couldn't understand how he wasn't surrounded by people begging for his attention. 

He got down off his barstool and made his way over to the singer. 

"Hey!" He shouted at the bartender above the noise. "Whatever he's having, I'll pay for it," he pointed at the singer. "And give me one, too." 

The singer looked genuinely surprised by the gesture. "Hey, thanks dude," he shouted. 

"Great set," Angel shouted back. "I'm Angel, by the way." 

"Demie," the singer replied, holding out a hand. Now that Angel was right next to him, he realized just how big Demie was. He was built like a twig, but he stood at least 6'6", if not taller, and his hand was like a shovel. It completely enveloped Angel's when he shook it. 

"What was the name of that third song you played?" Angel shouted. "That really fast one?" 

"That one's called 'Wrath of Mars," Demie hollered back. 

"It's really good," Angel shouted. 

"Thanks. I wrote it for my brother, actually." 

"Your brother wouldn't be Marius, would he?" Angel shouted as the bartender put two pints on the bar in front of them. Mars, Marius. Angel felt like he was connecting the dots.

"Uh… yeah, actually," Demie said. His skin was dark - not tanned, but more of a deep olive - but Angel thought he saw his cheeks go a little red. 

There was an explosion of shouting from down by the stage as Rattlesnake took the stage. 

"These guys any good?" Angel shouted, pointing a thumb over his shoulder to the band. 

"Yeah, I mean, if you like country-metal fusion," Demie shouted back. 

"Sounds weird." 

"It is." 

The band started up with some twangy guitar that sounded like something out of a spaghetti western. It wasn't really doing it for Angel. They didn't sound nearly as good as Bacchus had. 

"Hey, uh," he put a hand on Demie's shoulder, standing on his toes to be closer to his ear. "You wanna go outside for a while? I'd love to hear more about your band." 

Demie gave him a quizzical, 'you serious?' kind of look. He glanced over to the merch booth. His drummer was pretty much alone, messing around on an old smartphone. 

"Yeah, sure," he said, grabbing his beer first. 

"So you're really related to Marius, huh?" Angel said as they stepped out of the bar into the cool spring evening. 

"Yeah, he's my older brother," Demie replied. 

"So… what, is this like, some kind of sibling rivalry? Your brother made it big so now you're trying to catch up?" 

"Fuck no," Demie muttered as he took a swig of beer. "Nah, Mar taught me how to play the guitar. We used to all be one band, me, him, and Elaine. We all got the offer to sign with Maggot Records but I backed out at the last minute, and Elaine wouldn't agree to move out West and go on tour without me." 

"So, Elaine… that's your drummer?" 

"Yeah."

"Is she like… your girlfriend…?"

"What? Fuck, no, she's my roommate. We've been friends since we were like ten, she's like a sister." 

"Sorry, sorry," Angel laughed. 

"S'cool," Demie said, continuing to drink. 

"So… I know you said it wasn't a sibling rivalry, but I gotta admit… I think you two are actually better than Marius." 

A crease formed between Demie's eyebrows, but otherwise his face was static. On stage, while singing, he'd been overcome with energy and emotion, but off stage he came off as extremely stoic. Had Angel met him in any other context, he never would've guessed he was a singer, his voice was so monotonous. 

"Don't get me wrong, I'm a huge fan of your brother. That's the whole reason I came out to this show, I'd been hearing rumors that you were related to him for months. But he's really… Marilyn Manson, y'know? Really focused on the aesthetic. He's a good musician, but you've got the better voice and better guitar skills." 

"Thanks," Demie said, shifting his feet awkwardly. Angel couldn't help but look down at them and wonder. He'd seen those goat-feet high heels before, and they looked uncomfortable as hell. He had to give Demie props for wearing them even after he got off stage. That was dedication. 

"Hey, don't take this the wrong way," Demie said, "but you really don't seem like the kinda person who'd like our music." 

"What does someone who likes your music seem like?" Angel asked. 

"I dunno, like… all those Viking looking motherfuckers." 

"No offense, but you don't really look that much like a Viking yourself." 

Demie snorted. "Fuck no, I'm Greek. I fuckin' hate all that Nordic shit, like half of them are Nazis. And their mythology fucking sucks." 

"Y'know, I thought I made out something about Odysseus in one of your songs," Angel said. 

"Yeah, it's only like… the invention of Western literature, or whatever," Demie said, then drained his pint glass.

"No, it's cool. I liked it. Most metal bands sing about Satan or their D&D groups, it's cool to hear something different. I mean, I expected you to sing about Satan, but…" 

"Nah, man, Christians fucking took Satan from the Greeks. They had to find a way to get all these Pagans to stop believing in their Gods, so they made Pan into Satan. They took Hades from us, too. Like the Jews, they don't even have an afterlife, that was all the Christians trying to absorb Greco-Roman Paganism." 

"Wow. I didn't know that. I mean, I'm Vietnamese, so I know about Christianity and colonialism, but I didn't know about the Greeks. That's wild." 

Demie opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by a shout coming from the door. 

"Jesus Christ, there you are!" The stoutly drummer, Elaine, had popped her head out the door. "I got work in the morning, we gotta get shit into the van and hit the road. Come help me with the drum set." 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," Demie groaned. He turned back to Angel. "Nice talkin' to you, man." 

"Yeah, a pleasure. Hey -- you wanna exchange numbers? You're a cool dude, maybe we could hang out sometime." 

"Oh. Uh… I don't actually got a cellphone, I just got a shitty landline. And I live way out in the sticks, like an hour away." 

"Hey, no, that's cool, no pressure--" 

"Actually, uh…" Demie looked over his shoulder and cupped his hands around his mouth. "HEY! ELAINE! YOU GOT A PEN?" 

"Yeah? Why?" 

"Toss it over here!" 

Elaine grumbled something inaudible but fished a pen out of her jeans pocket and tossed it to Demie. He caught it out of the air and gestured for Angel's hand. 

"I know people hate using the actual phone, but if you wanna call, feel free," he said, scribbling a set of digits on the back of Angel's hand. "Nice meeting you, man." 

With that, he turned and headed back towards the door, his goat shoes clicking on the concrete patio. 

Weird guy, Angel thought. He'd never really met anyone like him. But a few things were obvious - he was talented, he was interesting, and he was definitely gay. And that was enough for Angel to want to keep talking to him.

[bae-leth]

HI IM HERE WITH ANOTHER THING I WROTE this takes place before the game so no spoilers here! and i think you’re farther in than the playthrough i’m watching is so bhdhhfh

it’s about jeralt and (genderfluid) young byleth! plus a made up character named elliott

snowdrop

Jeralt was polishing the pommel of his blade when he heard Byleth’s little footsteps coming down the stairs.

He knew it was his child by the way they walked; one step, then a heavier one when Byleth landed on the step two below the first. They didn’t like the one in the middle, since it creaked and bent and made the little one nervous.

Jeralt also knew it was Byleth by the fact that his child was the only other resident of their little home by the creek.

Jeralt glanced up as Byleth landed on the last step, in their oversized sleepwear that consisted of a dark gray shirt—it once belonged to Jeralt, but he had abandoned it when it became too moth-bitten. Byleth had found it and started to wear it to sleep, so what could Jeralt do but patch up the holes?—and worn pants that went to the child’s knees. 

Jeralt smiled as Byleth toddled over, rubbing their blue eyes and letting their father slip them into his lap. They giggled when Jeralt kissed their dusky hair.

“Good morning. What’s it going to be today, kiddo?”

“Boy,” came the child’s soft response, Byleth’s dark eyelashes sticking together from yawning tears. Jeralt carried him to the washroom to help him take a bath.

Byleth was going to be five in a couple weeks. He liked chasing the foxes and catching crayfish in the creek, though he got upset when Jeralt nearly cooked them one evening.

He loved decorating his hair (and Jeralt’s, of course) with early spring blossoms, as well as giving summer wildflowers to the boys and girls of the village he and Jeralt frequented.

The child didn’t like to talk, and Jeralt was fine with that—grasshoppers and swallows were nice to listen to in the mornings. He was aware of a couple village folk who would reprimand their small children for not speaking; Jeralt charged them extra if they needed help with thieves.

There was an incident when Jeralt had taken Byleth (who was a girl that day) to the village for some sweets, and when she wouldn’t talk, a couple elderly villagers started to scold her. This infuriated Jeralt, and he lashed out at them; he had to be escorted out of the sweet shop and was not allowed back in since then.

Thankfully, Jeralt had a friend who bought treats for Byleth and traveled to the woodlands to deliver them each moon.

Byleth liked to keep his hair short, cropped just over his shoulders. Jeralt hadn’t accosted elders where his child got his hair cut, so it was trimmed every two and three quarter moons (Byleth wouldn’t have it any other way).

His hair was to be cut again this afternoon; Byleth sat obediently in the tub while Jeralt cleaned every part of the child he was permitted (by said child) to touch, taking extra care to rid Byleth’s scalp of dandruff and dirt. His little one had a habit of playing in the muddiest of places and going straight to bed, and the barber would probably not appreciate having to claw her way through a layer of muck in her own shop.

“Papa,” Byleth said after he got bored of patting the surface of the water.

“Yes?”

“Is early?”

“Yes. The sun hasn’t risen yet.” Byleth beamed proudly, sweeping his arms across the surface of the bathwater and hugging armfuls of fragrant soapsuds to his little chest.

Byleth liked being up early, and Jeralt liked seeing his child happy, so Byleth waking up at dawn was a good occasion for the both of them.

When Byleth was as clean as he could possibly be, Jeralt plucked him out of the water and sat him on his chair, bundling him up in a warm towel while he fetched Byleth’s village clothes. It wasn’t much different than what he and Jeralt usually wore at home, but it was a little more formal, a little more presentable.

Jeralt helped Byleth dress, then fixed a girdle around his waist to secure his tunic. Byleth hugged his father’s arm in thanks, then went off to play with his dolls.

Jeralt cleaned himself as well, and he realized too late that he hadn’t brought his own village clothing when he had fetched Byleth’s. He waited until Byleth was wholly absorbed in his game before darting past him to dress in the bedroom.

“Papa!” Byleth called, just as Jeralt was braiding his straw-colored hair in the mirror.

“Yes?”

“There’s water!”

Jeralt cleaned up the trail of bathwater he had made when racing past Byleth to dress, thanking the goddess he hadn’t slipped.

Byleth helped to pack lunch, and the two ate breakfast in comfortable silence. Byleth was a fan of butter and bread; Jeralt reminisced, with a twinge of sadness, that his wife had loved butter and bread just as much.

“Ready to go, snowdrop?” Jeralt asked, after Byleth had cleaned his plate.

“Yah!”

“Let’s go!”

Byleth liked to say “yah” instead of “yes” or “yeah.” It always made Jeralt smile. And Jeralt often called his child “snowdrop” instead of his real name. Byleth often responded to “snowdrop” more than he responded to “Byleth.”

The child, with their basket of lunch and one of his dolls on his arm, skipped off to the creek, where he peered between rocks and almost jumped into the water many times before Jeralt caught up to him.

The two traveled to the mouth of the creek by sunrise, gentle light filtering through the thick foliage as Byleth pointed out some minnows hiding in the shade of a boulder. Jeralt held his hand as he toddled along the beaten trail, then carried him and his basket when he got tired.

They stopped so Byleth could pick some flowers for the village children, and they sat on a flat stone to eat lunch at the edge of the forest. When they finished their bread and butter (Byleth insisted on having it again, and Jeralt didn’t mind), they continued on their way.

Byleth was drowsy in Jeralt’s arms when they arrived. His father greeted those who said hello and smiled to those who smiled at the sleepy Byleth, his little hands clutching the handle of the basket as if for dear life.

The village marketplace was bustling with its usual early morning crowd—cattle herders with their cattle and dogs, farmers lugging their daily crops to their stands, blacksmiths and weavers hurrying to set up shop. Buying a head of cabbage from a nearby stand was Elliott. Jeralt greeted him as he approached, and the dark-haired man smiled and hurried over.

“Hello, Jeralt! How are you?”

“I’m all right. How are things on your end?”

Elliott beamed as he held his purchase under his arm. He was a scrawny but strong-willed man with a wife and two daughters, both of which were Byleth’s age. Elliott was familiar with the child and his father, since he was the one who bought and delivered sweets to their home by the creek every new moon.

“Things are splendid. Hello, Byleth,” Elliott whispered to Byleth, who wiggled his fingers a little in greeting before tucking his face back into the hollow of Jeralt’s shoulder.

“He’s a bit tired after our journey today,” the mercenary explained, and Elliott nodded in understanding. “I’ll see you again soon, my friend. Safe travels.”

“Yes, you too!”

Jeralt sat down outside the barbershop and nudged his child’s arm until he was fully awake. Byleth whined and puffed up his cheeks in annoyance.

“It’s time to get your hair cut, snowdrop.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Tired.”

“Want to take a nap?”

Byleth nodded.

“Okay, take a nap.”

Jeralt felt awkward sitting outside the shop; he was a burly, heavyset man who clearly looked like an outsider, with his lighter hair and tannish skin. Most of the people around here had an olive complexion and darker locks upon their heads, so Jeralt stood out like a white feather on a black chicken.

Byleth took after his mother, who had been born in this village. A few of his little friends came up to Jeralt to say hello, and when Jeralt woke Byleth so he could greet them, he simply gave them their flowers and went back to sleep.

It was midday when Byleth yawned and stretched in Jeralt’s arms. Jeralt felt as if he could take a nap himself, but he asked Byleth if he wanted to go get his hair cut now and took him inside the cool shop when he said yes.

They greeted the barber, who had worked with Byleth long enough to know he didn’t like sitting still for too long. She made quick and careful work of his hair and Jeralt paid her, and off he and his child went to find some dinner at the market.

After buying some fresh produce, salted meat, and a tart for dessert (Jeralt had picked Byleth up so he could choose from the many selections at the pastry stand), Byleth led the way along the busy village streets to the edge of the forest, where he crawled onto the flat rock from before and patted it expectantly.

Jeralt climbed on as well and they shared a brief meal of pork and apples. The two distinct flavors and textures went to war in Jeralt’s mouth, and Byleth didn’t seem to like them together either. They ended up eating the fruit tart instead.

Byleth somehow managed to grow tired again on their way home, the setting sun casting long shadows through the trees. Jeralt carried him for the remainder of their trek.

“Papa,” the child mumbled into Jeralt’s chest, his father closing the door behind him in their dimly lit home.

“Yes?”

He didn’t respond.

Jeralt blinked and placed the basket on the supper table, then bent down to sit Byleth on his chair. Byleth wrapped his arms tightly around his father’s neck, refusing to let go, and Jeralt gasped, hugging his little one against him.

“What’s wrong, snowdrop?”

“Tired….”

Jeralt let out a sigh of relief; for a moment he thought he had upset Byleth!

“Okay. Let’s get you in bed, then.”

Byleth squirmed when Jeralt tried to put him down again.

“No!” he cried. “Sleep here.”

Jeralt felt his child’s soft, newly trimmed hair brush against his neck as Byleth snuggled into him, and the veteran mercenary couldn’t help smiling. It had been a long day, but he didn’t mind carrying his little one for another night.

“Okay. Sleep here.”

 ((i want jeralt to be my dad)) ((have fun in 3h!)) ((hope this is good bhhghgh))

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notes from bae: JHFSGSJGJ??? HUSDHGAGHJHAG???? THIS IS SO ADORABLE IM GOING TO C R Y IM??