#i like to think this wouldn't happen but... y'know... gestures

[astromechs]

I know people are focused on Rocket but I'm starting to worry maybe Nebula will die. It feels like we're back at vol 2 with one of Thanos daughters being on team good guy and the other's role is more ambiguous. After Gamora died we saw Nebula's focus shift and now she's fully a guardian. So maybe that's what's going to happen for Gamora? There should be a place for both of them thats their own but I'm concerned there seems to be hesitancy to have them both more developed and on the team together

if nebula dies i am in your walls, james gunn

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 5 || The Date

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language & heavy sexual tension. You might feel edged by the end of this chapter. !!Geto is a complete pervert btw!!

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 3.5k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——INSIDE THE LAVISH RESTAURANT that Geto Suguru assures you isn't as expensive as it seems, the two of you are escorted to an awfully private booth.

It's off in the corner, away from everyone else within the restaurant as specifically requested by your date. Your surroundings are dimly lit, with a romantic ambiance that sets the perfect mood for the evening.

Geto pulls your chair out for you and you sit, briefly thanking him for the small gesture as you do so. For a second, as he pushes your chair in and makes his way to the other side of the table, you wonder if you'll have to go on dates like this with the other men you meet. If Geto is considered medium difficulty according to Gojo, what'll happen when you reach someone who's at a higher difficulty level?

Will you have to win a fraction of their heart to sleep with them? Will you have to date them? Shit, you don't want to toy with anyone's emotions. You really hope you'll be able to pull this all off.

Lost in your thoughts, you don't notice Geto's eyes all over you. He's thinking too, wondering how he should go about messing with you. The man is just as amused as Gojo was with the little challenge you've been given.

Geto wonders if he should drag this out. Maybe a few days, y'know, force you to get to know him more and more. Problem is, even as he looks at you now, he knows damn well that's not going to happen. He wonders if you even realize the effect you have on others without doing anything.

When you first entered the restaurant, Geto noticed that the host had his eyes all over you. The man has been gawking at you as you and Geto were led off to your table but you didn't notice.

A little smirk plays on Geto's lips as he admires you. You're now pretending to look over the menu but he can tell you're still panicking from his earlier words. His eyes dip down to the exposed areas of your skin and he scoffs. If you were his girlfriend, the two of you wouldn't have even made it to the elevator.

Surly he would've turned you right back around and had his way with you without a care in the world for reservations. The male's focus goes to your lips, studying the slight pout you make while you think every now and then.

Like earlier, his mind drifts into places they shouldn't. Your lips look so soft, so delicate, so... kissable. He wonders how the inside of your mouth feels.

How good are you with your tongue? Fuck, the thought alone makes his hips lift as he shifts around in his seat. He needs to stop thinking about you like this. He needs a distraction so he tries to look down at the menu on the table in front of him.

That doesn't work either. Geto isn't craving anything on this damn menu. The very thing he wants to feast on is sitting across the table from him. His eyes flick up to you and instead of looking at your face, he looks at your cleavage-- mentally cursing at himself for his perverted thoughts and glances.

God, even looking at you is torture.

"Suguru," You suddenly call out.

The man flinches at the sound of his name and frantically redirects his gaze upward. "Hm?" He hums in response.

"Y'know I can feel you staring at me, right?" You say to him teasingly.

Truth be told, you've been calming yourself this whole time. Gojo told you Geto was of medium difficulty and if you're interpreting this correctly then, that means you've already got the man attracted to you, all that's left for you to do is to get him to warm up to you. You have to attempt to treat Geto like you know he's going to sleep with you because-- well, you do know.

With the way he was touching you, talking to you, and looking at you now, you could tell you had this in the bag. It just took a few minutes of you gathering yourself before you worked up the confidence to say something to him.

"So?" Geto asks, feeling tense to the way you've noticed his ogling.

You flip the menu up so that his view is obstructed, "So, it's rude to stare. Especially at my tits... pervert." You reply, though, you're words were harmless and he could tell you were teasing him.

Geto suddenly choked on air, "What'd you just call me?"

"A perv." You say cooly.

Due to the menu held up between the two of you, neither of you saw each other's expressions. You've got a cheeky grin on your face, thinking you've managed to fluster him while a slow smirk spreads across Geto's lips.

"A perv?" He repeats, followed by a cocky scoff. Geto's mouth moves on its own and he doesn't even know what came over him as he speaks.

"Darling, if I was a pervert I would've had you in this restaurant with no panties on while explaining the eight different positions I've fantasized fucking you in." He blurts out in a shockingly low tone before leaning over the table a little, "I'd have you on your knees begging for me to touch you right now."

Heat rushes to both your face and in between your legs, causing you to rub your thighs together slightly. Your grip on the menu slips a little but you try to keep your composure.

Dropping your voice to a whisper, you drop the item in your hand and meet the man's all-too-serious gaze. You mimic his motions and lean forward a bit too, "You do realize we're in public... right? Anyone could've heard you just now..."

Geto flashes you a sexy smile, "Keep teasin' me and everyone will hear you moaning my name in a second."

You scoff, waves of confidence shooting through you out of nowhere. "Yeah? What're you gonna do, fuck me over the table?" You whisper-shout to him.

"I might." He hums.

The look in your eyes is full of disbelief. "You wouldn't."

"I would, actually."

"Do it then." You utter challengingly, knowing damn well he doesn't have the balls to actually-

He chuckles deeply, leaning back in his chair and parting his thighs. You notice him shift in his seat, hips once again raising as he moves. "Come bend over in front of me and see what happens." Geto challenges back.

The sexual tension between you and him is at a ridiculous all-time high. You stare at him and he stares back at you.

After a few seconds, Geto clicks his tongue and tips his head to the side, "Well?"

You roll your eyes at him and sit back in your seat, "Never mind."

"That's what the hell I thought." He says confidently, "You'll never be able to win that kinda' contest against me, sweets. I'm a man of my word."

"Seeing as I'm not getting fucked over this table right now, I'm pretty sure that was all just a bluff." You reply. You're still not sure where all this confidence of yours is coming from but the man across the table from you is dangerously attracted to it so, you're trying to drag this out.

"I told you to bend over, you told me never mind." He shrugs.

"Maybe I wanted you to bend me over." You say with emphasis in your voice.

He stares blankly for a minute. Then he laughs, "You... You think I won't do it."

"No, I know you won't-"

Geto pushes his chair back and stands to his feet.

You're throat immediately runs dry. Is it too late to say that maybe you should've shut up a while ago...?

He walks around the table to you and suddenly pulls your chair out. "Y-You're not seriously gonna-"

"Stand up." Geto cuts off.

You peer up at the man, eyes full of worry. Slowly, you raise to your feet and your face comes close with his. Quickly glancing past him, you spot the waitress for your table helping a group of people not too far away. You're pretty sure she's gonna head this way once she's done so your mouth opens to back out of whatever Geto's about to do.

"Suguru, I-"

"Aht aht, none of that. You shouldn't have started this." He interrupts. Geto then moves a hand behind you and your heart sinks to your toes. Again, the table you're at is quite secluded so the only thing others would be able to see currently is Geto standing in front of you.

You flinch when he suddenly grabs a handful of your ass, your eyes frantically switching back and forth between him and the waitress who's set to approach the two of you any minute now. Geto pulls your body up against his and your hands rest on his chest due to the aggressive tug of your body.

You don't even know what to say at first as you feel the male hike up the back of your dress and slip your underwear down off you. "A-Are you fucking crazy?" You whisper shout to him with furrowed brows.

"You're about to find out." He hums simply.

Your undergarment now pools around your ankle and Geto is quick to drop down and work them completely off you. You shift around to pull your dress down, making sure you don't look crazy. The pounding of your heart was so loud that you could feel it in your ears and you're confused and thankful that no one has or can witness what just happened.

Looking up at you, Geto smiles as he wraps his fingers around the fabric in his hands. Then, he shoves the item into his pocket and stands back up. "You can sit now, I don't plan on giving everyone here a show just yet."

You grit your teeth. You're so embarrassed that you don't think you can move. Did you really just let him do that to you? Why? Because it was kinda thrilling and you wanted to see how far he'd really go? Maybe...

"Yet?" You repeat as you finally sit down, feeling exposed for a second before you cross your legs.

Geto casually walks back to his seat and sits as though nothing happened. "I meant what I said."

This time you don't argue with him-- you truly don't know what he'll do next.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

With perfect timing, the waitress approaches your table and takes your orders. You took a second to even remember what the hell you had your eyes on but you figured it out after relooking over the menu. Your heart is still throbbing against your chest and you still can believe no one saw anything that just happened.

You know the table is pretty secluded but you expected someone to see something. Geto knew what he was doing though. Hell, he's all innocent and smiling all lovey-dovey-like at you as the two of you place your orders.

The second the woman had gone off to get your food, you and Geto met eyes.

"So, tell me something... If not for this date, what was your plan for me?" The man asks, breaking the silence.

You glance off to the side. "I didn't have one. I was just gonna meet you and figure things out as I go."

He chuckles, "And how'd that end up working out for ya'?"

"Well, given the fact that I'm sitting in a restaurant with no underwear on," You send him a glare with a fake smile, "Wonderful." You say with sarcasm.

He moves to reach for the item in question, soon pulling it out of his pocket and holding it up so that only you can see it. "Want em' back?" Geto asks tauntingly.

You send him a scowl, one he finds ridiculously sexy. Pissing you off is kinda fun. The fabric in his hand is shifted around a bit and he begins to inspect the item, the sight bringing a deep blush to your face and a rush of embarrassment over you.

"Fucking pervert." You curse, this time genuinely bothered.

A lazy smile spread across Geto's overly attractive face, "I can show you something perverted..."

You're glare at him continues. "Is this how you planned on spending the entire night? By taunting and teasing me?" You ask genuinely.

Geto scoffs at your words, "I'm pretty sure you started this, baby."

"I..." Damn, he's got you there. You did start this sexual flirting vibe with him.

But what else were you supposed to do? Your goal is to fuck him.

"Don't be mad that you can't handle my actions or the words that come out of my mouth." He continues while mocking you with a chuckle. He just finds you oh so amusing.

"Well, I wasn't expecting you to be such a perv..." You murmur.

"Satoru didn't tell you that part, huh?"

"No. No he did not." You say, annoyed with the man who really is to blame for all this.

Geto leans forward and rests his elbows on the table, moving to hold your undergarment with one finger and dangling it in front of his face. "I can only imagine how embarrassed you must feel right now." Actually, he could see it.

He's watching the way your eyes widen at him displaying your underwear so openly, the way you look around the area to see if anyone knows what he's doing, and the way you're clearly panicking.

"Can you just put them away already... Taunting me with that is just... weird." You tell the man.

"Yeah? What if I told you what I wanted to do with them?" He asks in return.

Your curiosity piqued and you raised a brow. "What you want to do with them...?" You repeat as you grow confused.

"I wanna wrap em' around my cock. Y'know use it to jerk off." Geto says so casually that you grow awfully concerned if he has any sense of care for being in public.

"You... can get off on that kinda thing?" You question blindly.

He shuts his eyes and inhales a deep breath, "Fuck yes."

"...I'm not one to kink shame but... why is that pleasurable? It's just my underwear...."

He laughs at your cluelessness before finally putting the item away. "The fact that it was pressed against that wet cunt of yours for hours makes my dick throb," Geto utters both filthyly and shamelessly.

Your thighs rub together a bit and a strange wave of arousal thrums through you. "O-Oh..." You chirp.

"I told you, don't be mad that you can't handle what comes out my mouth." He sighs.

You put your hands over your face and sigh, "You're worse than Satoru," You whisper to yourself.

That makes Geto laugh again, "Am I?"

"Yes." You sigh dramatically.

Though, you're not sure if that's true. After all, Gojo did jerk off right in front of you with no shame whatsoever...

"Would you believe me if I said that everything I've said so far is only to tease you?" Geto questions.

You blink. "Meaning...?"

"The real thing will be much worse."

You feel intrigued so you lean in, "How so?"

He smirks, he's got you exactly where he wants you. "I could make you cum without even laying a finger on you," Geto informs you, cockiness embedded into his tone.

You scoff and fold your arms at him, "Why don't you put your money where your mouth is and prove it?"

"Right now?" He hums with a tilt of his head.

A gulp is heard from you. "N-Not now, idiot. We're still in public."

"I feel like by now you should know, I don't care if we're in public. That won't stop me from doing or saying anything." Geto says.

"So you're into voyeurism?" You ask in a monotone.

He scoffs, "Exhibitionism is the word you're looking for but yes, that too. Isn't it obvious?"

"Slut."

Geto snickers, "I'm into that too, gorgeous."

"You like being degraded?"

"I don't mind it." He admits with a shrug. "I have a long list of kinks that I'm not sure you want to get into right now."

"Maybe I do." You hum.

Why are you still testing this man? You don't know. Maybe you like his reactions. Maybe something about his responses gives you this churn in your stomach. Maybe you want to keep pushing his buttons until you can't anymore...

Geto leans back and looks up at the ceiling, "Why does this woman continue to tempt me?" He asks as if he's speaking to some higher power. Looking back down to you, "I'd rather show you my kinks. Explaining is boring." He says.

You respond with a nod and after what feels like an eternity, the waitress is spotted approaching your table with your orders in hand.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

After the food, things got worse.

Like, much worse than you could've imagined.

You know Geto said he was a man of his word but fuck is he insane. He was not, in fact, lying when he said he could make you cum without touching you.

He proves that later on in the night, long after the date is over and you've made it back to his apartment.

Geto Suguru has a filthy mouth. He'd break down in innate detail on how exactly he plans on fucking you before actually doing it, leaving your brain all mushy at the imagination alone.

But of course, this was only possible because of the things that led up to it.

After the two of you ate, getting from the dinner table and to an Uber was no easy feat. Especially not with Geto in your ear explaining his fantasies to you.

He told you how he thought about renting out the restaurant for the night just to lay you out on the table and dive nose-deep into your pussy-- not a single word filtered. Geto said into your ear that part of him wanted you bouncing on his cock right there at the table. He wanted people to hear and see the mess he'd make of you.

"God the things I wanna do to you," He uttered desperately into your ear.

By now, you were both back in a vehicle, this time on your way home with him.

Geto smiles against the crown of your ear, "Even right now, if not for the diver, you'd be on my cock right now."

His voice is so low, so seductive, ensuring that only you hear him. You're constantly rubbing your thighs together, still lacking underwear to catch the liquids of arousal seeping from your cunt.

Geto suddenly places a hand high up on your thigh, "Spread your legs f'me, really quickly."

You let out a breath of air you weren't aware you'd been holding. "W-Why...?"

"Wanna' check something." He murmurs. You slowly part your thighs and Geto moves to swat two of his thick fingers against your sex. "Mmmh... you're wet..." He whispers as if he isn't aware of the effect his words have on you.

Your legs shut around his hand and Geto drops his head to your shoulder with a chuckle. "What happened to all those little comebacks of yours?" He questions.

"I ran out," You say snarkily.

"Good." Geto hums, raising his hand from in between your legs.

He then grabs a light hold of your face and forces you to look at him. "Cause' if you didn't," The man moves two fingers to your lips and slips them into your mouth. "I'd have to shut you up eventually." He whispers softly.

Your brows furrow at the feeling of his fingers pushing into your mouth but almost reflexively, you suck on his digits gently. The bulge that's been straining against the fabric of Geto's pants for a while now, throbs at the sight and feeling of you.

His cock is just leaking with precum right now, leaving an embarrassing wet spot on his boxers. So badly does he want to get home as quickly as possible and fuck the hell out of you. Your constant words and challenges have had the man erect for a while now.

Hell, maybe he was turned on from the second he laid eyes on you.

He presses down on the back of your tongue and you choke a little-- not that you try to stop his actions at all, leading to him biting his lip. "Satoru told me about you but damn, you really are a slut." Geto purrs.

You hum around his skin but don't stop your sucking motions, leading the man to let a groan leave his lips before finally pulling his hand from you. He couldn't take it anymore. Geto was seconds, literal seconds away from flipping you over and having his way with you.

Luckily for both of you, the driver finally arrived at the apartment and neither of you would have to wait much longer.

GOJO SATORU ✔︎

GETO SUGURU ☐

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

[seoliee]

LAD Men as Cats

Here again to serve pure fluffiness. I love cats and I love LAD Men. So, I thought, why don't I try to mix the two together and here we are.

Kind of weird to make my precious fishy; Rafayel into a cat though because he absolutely hates them.

Oh and no, Caleb in this one. I might make a separate one for him though like I did last time. I'LL STOP NOW SORRY.

What if they're your pet cats?

Word Count: 1.5k words

— RAFAYEL : Grey Birman

• Rafayel was a birthday gift from your best friend. You were immediately pulled in by his mesmerizing eyes that seemed to shine and bore deep within you. The first time you took him into your arms, he looks up at you with a guarded gaze followed up with a low growl.

• It didn't take long for Rafayel to get used to you and his new surroundings, his bursts of energy zooming all over the place that you sometimes can't keep up with him.

• Being an office worker and situated to work from home. You're always confined in your study and in front of a computer often leaving Rafayel on his own company.

• There was a time that you were in a zoom call with your bosses when Rafayel leaps up on your computer desk. He meows softly, trying to get your attention but you were far too focused on your work. He rubs the side of his face on your hand that rests on top of the mouse, and you returned the gesture by petting his cheek in which he purrs at.

• Rafayel walks in front of you, blocking your vision with his built and his fluffy fur as his long puffy tail glides under your chin in the playful manner. You excused yourself from the call and places him down. "Not now, Rafayel. Be patient." You gave him a quick pet before returning to your call.

• Being a very affectionate and somewhat mischievous cat. Rafayel wouldn't let that slide. He leaps up on top of a drawer where one of your mini ornaments were located, eyeing one of them. He heard you calling him, mouthing words that says 'Don't think about it.' So now you finally gave him the attention he wants. His paw gently hits the ornament off of the drawer as it fell down on the carpet flooring and he scurries away.

• After the call ended. You went to pick up the fallen ornament and much to your relief it wasn't broken. When you went downstairs, you saw Rafayel perched down on the armrest of your couch, his eyes on you. He jumped off, running up to you and rubbing himself and subtly wrapping his tail around your legs while purring. Acting as if nothing happened.

• You sigh, picking him up into your arms. You can't stay mad at him. "You're a very naughty kitty, y'know that?" You pull him into your arms, hugging him as he leans into your touch. "But it's part of your charm." Though, you still have to reprimand his actions by not giving him any treats in the next few days.

— XAVIER : White Turkish Angora

• You arrived home from work only to see a puff of white ball on your porch. You slowly got closer, realizing it's a cat curled into a ball and sleeping. You crouched down to take a closer look.

• The cat wakes up, stretching its limps then looking up at you with narrowed sleepy eyes, blinking slowly. You were sure it would scurry away, but it didn't even moved an inch from its spot.

• You reached your hand out to it, waiting for it to do something, but it only watches as your hand gets closer, letting you scratch the side of its head and leaning into your hand which melted your heart immediately. The cat got up on its four legs, and goes to rub against you. There you noticed it doesn't have a collar on. You obviously can't leave it to fend for itself out in the coldness of the night so you did the most reasonable thing and let it inside. The cat immediately went over to your couch, finding a good spot and going back to sleep. It's as if it already owns your place, you think.

• The next morning. You visit the local veterinary clinic to get the cat checked. There, you found out it's a male cat. You made eye contact with him, silently apologizing for calling him a 'she' last night. The vet also said he doesn't have a microchip on him, but is a very healthy cat, adding that he's also very friendly and calm.

• Once both of you are home. You took decent pictures of him, deciding to make posters and spread it around the neighborhood in case he has a family. After all, he might've had a collar, but lost it somewhere. You heard a low meowing sound, switching your gaze down and there he is looking up at you expectedly. "You're hungry, aren't you?" You chuckled, going into the kitchen and him following you. You open the cupboard, taking out a can of wet catfood and transferring its contents on his bowl afterwards setting it down, allowing him to eat. You decide to keep him until his owners claim him. If nobody comes for him in a month, you're going to keep him.

• The next days were quite eventful. You came home to him waiting for you by the door, greeting you with a very happy meow which dissipates all your fatigue away. Ever since having him, you no longer felt lonely and you always looked forward to coming home. He always slept next to you, and wakes up at the same time as you. He practically follows you everywhere in the house which you found adorable and endearing.

• You sat down on your couch with him laying comfortably on your lap as you pet his fur. Instead of watching whatever is on the television, your eyes are on him. A thought came into your mind, and that's naming him. But, you quickly tossed the thought away as naming him would only make you more attached to him and by then, letting him go would hurt you than it should've. Your chest felt tight at the thought of losing his companionship. It may sound selfish, but you silently prayed that nobody would come to claim him.

• One day, you came home from work and as usual he's there at the door step waiting for her like he always does. You pick him up into your arms, then setting him down on the couch and kneeling in front of him. You open your bag to take something out and reaches your hands to the back of his head. You retreat your hands away, letting the light tag rest on his neck and engraved with the name 'Xavier'.

• Indeed, a month has already passed and thankfully, nobody came. "Xavier. Do you like that name?" As if responding to her. Xavier goes up to you and gently licked your chin, you melt and nuzzles against him which he reciprocates with a loud purr. You will no longer feel lonely with Xavier around.

— ZAYNE : Black Persian

• Zayne was given to you by your cousin who told you she couldn't keep him anymore because him and her other male cat kept attacking each other. You, on the other hand have no qualms on adopting him. The thought of having a non-human companion is better than having an actual human.

• Zayne is a very quiet and aloof cat. Very quiet. At first, you thought that all cats are like him, but you watched a few cat videos where some of them would act like him, but have random bursts of energy at times and are playful. Zayne on the other hand, you looked at him at the other end of the couch, he seemed to mind his own business and is very cold.

• You tried to play with the toy stick with a mouse attached on the end only for him to ignore you completely. He didn't even spared you a single glance. You never thought there will be a time where your heart was broken by a cat. From that moment, you made a vow to yourself that you would make him love you.

• You started by inching closer, petting his head. At first, he moved away from your hand and ran off. But, you didn't stop and kept on trying until he would only flinch for a bit, but never run away. Though, he never purred.

• Then one day, you came home later than usual from work. To your surprise, you saw Zayne by the porch of your front door, as if waiting for you. You took him into your arms, snuggling him close. "You must've been worried. I'm sorry." Once they're inside, he jumped out of your arms and went back to his usual self. You only chuckled, this is the most affection you can get from him and you won't complain anymore.

• The next morning. You slowly opened your eyes, expecting to see what she always sees in the morning, but a tuff of black fur blocks your vision. Your heart warms and melts. This is the first time Zayne has slept on your bed and right next to you. Most importantly, he's purring. Your hand moves on its own and gently pets his head, he slightly opens his eyes, his gaze on you for a bit and went back to sleep, purring even louder.

Writing is very therapeutic to me. I can freely write down my ideas and let them unfold.

Thank you for reading until the end.

[momotonescreaming]

Part One (You are Here) | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

“So.” Jeff starts, voice rising over the Dio cassette Eddie put on, volume down low for once. It makes good background noise. Filling the space of Eddie’s bedroom. Not that it’s not full already.

“Okay so we’re doing this?” Eddie asks, turning around from where he was sorting through the pile of stuff on top of his dresser, stray D20 in hand. He flings himself onto his bed, bouncing on the mattress. He’s looking at Jeff with a shit-eating grin, although it’s not unkind.

“Doing what?” he replies, frowning, turning from where he’s sat at the small desk by the door. There’s not a lot of space, not a lot of wiggle room, so Jeff is immediately faced with Eddie staring at him knowingly from the mattress. They’ve known each other since middle school, since Eddie moved into town, and he can tell with just a glance that Eddie is seeing straight through him. 

It’s only fair, he concedes, he saw straight through Eddie.

“This thing you can’t stop thinking about, but haven’t told anyone. That thing?” Eddie starts, resting his head in his hands. It almost looks like he’s going to start kicking his feet like a girl in a sleepover. The kind of scenes you see in movies. All cliche and shit. “We’re talking about it?”

“Yeah.” Jeff sighs. Takes a deep breath. He looks over at Eddie, watches as his best friend raises an eyebrow, smiles, silently prompts him along.

“You know your horrific crush on Steve Harrington?” he eventually starts, fingers absently tapping at the wood of the chair he’s claimed. He can feel it swirling in his chest. The words, the feelings, all the stuff he had been running through his mind. Eddie won’t be mean about it, of course he won’t, but there’s going to be gentle ribbing and he’s really not sure if he’s ready for it. Maybe with just the two of them it'll be okay. Eddie gets it, after all, maybe better than anyone. 

Eddie just snorts. “I’m aware, yes.”

“And how I teased you for being into the preppiest jock in Hawkins?” He adds, resisting the urge to tap his foot, bounce his knee, run his socked foot along the carpeted floor.

“Also, yes.” 

“Well.” Jeff says, and he grimaces. Leaves the sentence there. He doesn’t need to finish it just yet, Eddie will pick up the pieces. Slot them into place.

He sees the exact second Eddie gets it. Watches his eyes light up as it clicks. The glee on his face is evident, the bastard. It's fucking radiating out of him, leaking out through his pores. 

“No,” Eddie gasps, scrambling to sit up on his bed, inching towards Jeff. He's gripping the sheets, the tan floral fabric strained between his fingers. “No fucking way. You have a crush?”

He just nods, humming in affirmation. 

“Well who is it?” Eddie asks, bouncing in place. He's giddy, fidgeting and not quite staying still. “C’mon, tell me. Are they more attainable than Steve Harrington, at least?”

“On one hand they're more attainable,” Jeff starts, gesturing with his hands. “Because, y'know, straight.” 

Eddie hums, nodding, eyes wide. He wouldn't ever admit it, but he was an incorrigible gossip at heart. Always wanting to know things about people. Listening when Wayne talks about the guys from the plant, picking up rumours from people who bought from him, slowly learning what's happening in the trailer park. Who was sleeping with who, who doesn't do their job, who was moving in.

So when Jeff hinted he had a crush? Eddie was all over it. He was also his best friend, so that helped.

“But on the other hand they're less attainable,” Jeff says, taking a deep breath. Bracing himself for whatever dramatic reaction Eddie was going to spout. “Because it's Chrissy Cunningham.” 

His traitorous heart leaps in his chest the second he says her name. A smile threatens to creep across his face. Chrissy Cunningham. Out of all the cheerleaders, she was the one who stood out. She was cute, and kind, with a smile that lit up the room. The curl of her bangs that framed her face, the way she matches her eyeshadow to her scrunchie. Jeff couldn’t stop staring at her. Couldn’t stop noticing things about her. 

Eddie looks positively giddy, bouncing on the worn springs of his mattress, grinning like the devil himself. Wide eyes and bared teeth, ringed fingers gripping his sheets even tighter. He’s electric, he’s vibrating out of his skin. If he were wearing his wallet chain, Jeff would hear him jingling. 

“Yes!” He exclaims, hair swinging around his face as he moves. Not unlike he’s headbanging. “Jeffery! Jefferson! Join me in Hell!”

Jeff can’t help but concede a laugh, ducking his head, almost pressing his chin to his chest. Hiding a smile, almost shy. It’s kind of nice, having it out in the open now. Having Eddie welcome him into the world of crushes on the most popular kids in school. 

“The fucking karma is so juicy right now Jeffington, oh my god! Eat shit!” Eddie adds, excitedly tapping his feet. He bounces back onto his bed, patting a spare spot of mattress beside him. “But I’m just too excited, Jesus Christ, you get it now!”

“I fucking get it now,” Jeff laughs, getting up off the chair and flopping onto the bed beside Eddie. Feeling the worn sheets beneath his back, looking up at the yellowed ceiling of the trailer. “There’s no way in Hell anything is going to happen, I know this, but fuck, she’s the cutest girl I’ve ever seen.”

“Yeah, says you and half of Hawkins High,” Eddie replies, laughing, looking over at Jeff, crossing his legs underneath him. 

“Like you’re one to judge, ‘Mr I have a crush on Steve Harrington,’ the most popular guy in school. Even him stopping throwing those parties didn't make people hate him.” Jeff laughs, gently shoving at Eddie, moving him towards the edge of the bed. “You call him an asshole and then turn around and daydream about his laugh, or his eyes, or his hair.”

“Listen,” He retorts, splaying his hands out when he talks. “I am but a humble homosexual, and even I can’t deny the fact that that preppy, douchey, jock is a fucking smokeshow.”

“What?” Jeff laughs. “You want him to slap your ass and hook up with you in the locker room? Woo you with all his dumb jock shit?”

“Literally, yes,” Eddie laughs, flopping down onto his bed now next to Jeff, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a grin as Jeff snorts. Locks eyes with his best friend, and lets his gaze soften a bit. “But tell me about Chrissy, how did this happen?”

Jeff sighs, and is only a little embarrassed at how wistful it sounds. His stomach swoops, organs melting into something soft and gooey as he paints her in his minds eye. As he pictures her. 

“I just,” He starts, and then stops. Sighs again. “I always noticed Chrissy, always thought she was pretty — because y’know, cheerleader, it's a given — but I didn’t think much further than that.” 

“Until?” Eddie asks, drawing out the word. He nudges Jeff's leg with a socked foot.

“Until I held open a door for her one time,” he sighs, giving into Eddie's prompting. “And she giggled, and thanked me, and it sort of hit me just how much I wanted to kiss her.” 

Eddie fucking yelps, grabbing and shoving at Jeff's shoulder. He laughs along with him, his energy infectious. Let's himself move along with the motions, shoving back at Eddie, bedsprings creaking underneath the pair of them. A part of him absently wonders how much of this Wayne can hear. Raising Eddie, he's probably used to it — the noise. The energy. “Jeff, you sly dog!” 

“I didn't actually kiss her,” Jeff laughs. “I just thought about it.” 

“Oh I bet you thought about it,” Eddie teases, wiggling his eyebrows, continuing to grip and shove at Jeff's arm. 

“Oh shut up,” Jeff laughs. “Like you're one to judge.” 

“Oh, I'm not judging,” he replies, stopping his shoving so they're just resting on his bed together. Hair splayed out across the mattress, fingers absently picking at his sheets. “You remember the things I've said to you about Steve.” 

“I do, yes.” 

“But,” Eddie says, rolling over onto his side, propping himself up and looking down at Jeff. “We’re not talking about how much I’ve talked about wanting to suck Steve’s dick right now.”

Jeff snorts.

“It’s more than that, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Jeff exhales, the air leaving his lungs softly, as he lets himself melt a little further into Eddie’s mattress. It’s easy, here with Eddie. His best friend, whom he knows everything about and knows everything about him in return. “I see Jason hold her hand as they walk through the halls, and hold her books for her. One time I saw them at a movie date together at The Hawk when I was out with my parents, and I want that.”

Eddie makes a noise, low and soft, as he looks over at Jeff. 

“I’ll never get it, not with her, but oh man,” he adds. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“I get it.” Eddie adds, voice still soft and low. “I know I talk about how hot Steve is, but I saw him and that Wheeler chick in the halls. How he’d swing her round and kiss her.”

It sort of hits him, just then, just how much Eddie wants this as well. Wants soft kisses, and romantic gestures. Intimate dates and someone happy to see him. But he can’t be seen wanting things he’ll never get. It hurts too much. 

“When we get out of Hawkins,” Jeff says simply. “We’ll get this. We’ll find people who find our metal music and shitty garage band endearing. You’ll find someone who wants to kiss you in the halls.”

Eddie snorts, but he’s smiling sort of bittersweetly while he does it. “And you’ll bag yourself a cheerleader.”

Jeff smacks Eddie’s side, waving his arm out half-heartedly. They stay like that, sitting in the silence, chilling on Eddie’s bed together. It’s nice. 

“So we agree we’re not telling Gareth about this?” Jeff says, propping himself up to look at Eddie.

“Oh we’re absolutely not telling Gareth about this. '' Eddie replies automatically. “He’ll be so annoying about it.”

“One day he’ll get a crush on a prep,” Jeff replies, smiling. “And then we’ll tell him.”

“The Corroded Coffin curse?” Eddie laughs. “Getting a crush on a prep?”

“Definitely,” he replies. “First you, now me. Frank’s next, and then Gareth is going to eat his words about those hot metal chicks he definitely has a crush on.”

“Who are definitely real, and absolutely not just models in magazines he jerks off too,” Eddie laughs, and it’s nice. Sharing this. Sharing this with someone who gets it. It’s not just that their crushes are preps, or jocks. It’s that their crushes are popular, and hot, and people who are never going to look at them twice. 

Jeff laughs, an exhale of air, and nudges his foot against Eddie’s. 

Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

[thursdaygxrls]

Infrunami

summary — peter’s memory is really good (no it’s not)

pairing — tasm!frat!peter parker x fem!reader

disclaimer — i don’t own tasm or peter. i’ve also been listening to infrunami on repeat for 4 days and had to do something about it.

warnings — mentions of drinking/alcohol, possible ooc, and this is (let’s all say it!) unedited

The frat house was just about as clean as it could be. It was rare for a house full of boys to be spotless, especially with weekly parties like the one going on right now. Surprisingly enough, this particular party had been relatively chill--no broken glass, no body shots. Maybe it was the pungent haze of weed in the air that floated from the mouths of those with sloppily rolled blunts and dying pens. Instead of a blunt, Peter's fingers were wrapped around a red solo cup.

"...and honestly, it's sort of weird because, y'know..."

There was a girl attached to his arm. He wasn't drunk enough to forget her name—well, he wouldn't have forgotten it if he even knew it in the first place. She seemed nice enough: a giggly blonde majoring in poli-sci...or was is psych? Honestly, her introduction was all sort of fuzzy. One minute, he was alone, the next, he was hearing about a research project that was 'sort of weird.'

"Hey, you mind if I go grab another drink?" Peter interrupted her rant, his voice low.

"Oh, yeah, sure," she nods in response, glossy lips stretched into a smile.

He gives her a closed-lipped grin of his own before picking himself off the wall and heading to the kitchen. He weaves his way through the house in an eerily graceful fashion. Upon reaching the kitchen, he looks down at his full cup.

Peter wasn't a dick. At least, he liked to think he wasn't a dick. He wouldn't just tell a girl to piss off if he wasn't interested; he'd make excuses and slip out as fast as possible. Maybe in the long run it was sort of a dick move, but he rarely ever saw those girls again (and if he did, he'd look the other way). There was the fact that he was bound to forget a few faces as well.

“No lady-friend tonight, Parker?” Zack—one of his frat brothers—chimed in his ear. He slipped past Peter and to the keg they’d set on ice in a plastic kiddie pool. Never once did he think he’d see a Sonic the Hedgehog themed kiddie pool next to the oven.

“It’s like, ten, give it a rest,” Peter shot back, sipping at his beer.

“I saw you talking to that blonde.” Zack smiled and made a gesture of approval as he filled his cup.

“Eh,” Peter shrugged.

“‘Eh?’” Zack’s eyes widened, “I’d say she’s at least three tiers up from ‘eh’ category.”

"Eh," Peter repeats, leaning his head back. It wasn't as if he had a girl wrapped around his arm at every party, but it also wouldn't be surprising to see it. Between his freshman and junior year of college, his body count had increased significantly. He had regular hookups—at least one every week and rarely ever with the same person more than once or twice. It was easier to just love 'em and leave 'em. At least, that's what he told himself every time he was ordering an Uber for the girl in his bed.

"Well, if you're gonna 'eh' her, mind if I give it a try?" Zack asked, taking a gulp of the beer, swiping the foam off his lip with his thumb.

"Be my guest," Peter waved him off casually.

"I'm gonna go full Zack-Attack," he grinned widely, shooting Peter a thumbs up.

"Never say that again," Peter called out, though, Zack had already turned his back to approach the blonde. And so it was just him and his beer. His beer and him. A cup and a hand, a drink and a tongue, a—damn, he was bored. Normally, he really liked these parties. He could get a decent buzz or high and usually end the night with someone going down on him. Tonight, though, was so dull. He felt (ironically) like a fly on the wall, watching the world around him through a vignette filter. The boredom was almost comforting. Nothing was happening, but then again, nothing was happening. He could bask in the fact that he had nothing and no one to do—

Thump.

Karma was real, and it was a total bitch. Right when Peter had decided that his night was going to be one of peaceful indifference, he watched an obviously inebriated boy stumble past him. He saw it all happen in slow motion: the way the his feet dragged into one another, one shoe catching the lace of the other. Before the realization that he was falling could hit, Peter grabbed the boy's shoulder and righted him. Unfortunately, the drink in the boy's hand hadn't been so lucky. It slipped from his hands and splashed out beyond him like amber rainfall. If Peter hadn't had much to drink, he probably could've caught it. But his senses were somewhat dulled, and the liquid was already pouring from the lip of the cup.

"Oh, shit."

Karma actually wasn't that bad, Peter thought, as his eyes flashed ahead of him. Instead of splashing onto the floor, the beer had landed on an innocent bystander. An extremely attractive innocent bystander.

Her face was crinkled up like a disappointed mother who just came home to see her kid shoving stuffed animals down the toilet. Though her jeans were nearly beer-free, her shirt was entirely soaked, Splash Mountain soaked. Her gaze first landed on the boy, then on Peter. Okay, so karma was actually really cool.

"I am so sorry!" The boy slurred, his eyes drawn open in horror.

"Yeah, I figured," she sighed. She didn't sound condescending—she just sounded like she was already over it. The ends of Peter's lips twitched, but he suppressed the smirk.

"I can't believe I spilled my drink on you!" The boy was much less over it than she was, "I'm so sorry! I—oh, man—"

"Hey, bud, I heard they're doing Jägerbombs out on the porch," Peter whispered to the boy. The guilt was gone from his face almost instantaneously, replaced with an almost childlike sense of wonder.

"I fucking love Jägerbombs!" He exclaimed, his empty solo cup forgotten as stumbled off and out of the kitchen.

"I've never seen someone move on so fast," Wet Shirt Girl spoke up, watching the boy nearly fall again.

"The power of Jägerbombs," Peter suggested. He slipped his windbreaker from his arms and held it out to her, offering a smile along with it.

"Here," he said, "It doesn't exactly fix the wet shirt, but it works for now."

"Thanks," she nodded, grabbing the jacket. She slid it on with an almost exhausted sigh before speaking again: "I’ll only smell horrible now."

Peter laughed at that. He watched her zip it up, he watched the way it strained against—

"I'm Peter." His eyes connected with hers again. A brief look of shock took over her face before it melted back into the same neutral expression she held before. He almost wondered if it was a brief stroke of imagination that made him see her widened eyes.

"I bet you are." Was her reply. Oh?

"That's usually the cue to introduce yourself," he said, a hint of a smile still on his lips.

"Usually is," she nodded. There was a brief moment of silence, an awkward pause at which they stood at a stalemate. Peter took her in again. She was cute. Really cute. Even if she had been weird about introductions, he couldn't help but admire her. So, he spoke up, his voice splitting through the silence but not the tension.

"Do you want to borrow a shirt?" He asked, "My room's right upstairs." When she didn't immediately reply, he quickly added: "I swear I'm not trying to pull anything, I just figured it would probably be pretty uncomfortable wearing a beer shirt."

She watched him for a moment, her eyebrows crinkling in a way that made Peter fight off another smile. He knew he'd won when she let out another sigh, the tired, over-it kind that he was already becoming familiar with it.

"Alright," she nodded. Peter chose not to hide his grin as he mimicked her nod. He led her away from the kitchen and towards the staircase, peering over his shoulder every once in a while to make sure she was still in his tow. Sure enough, every time he looked, she would be there, pulling the windbreaker—his windbreaker—around her.

His room wasn't messy, exactly. There were scattered papers and rogue socks, and of course his flannel sheets were crinkled at the foot of his bed, but it wasn't disgusting. Their entrance was nothing less than unceremonious.

"This is my room," he stated the obvious, gesturing around.

"I would've never guessed." She shook her head. He gave her another small smile before he crossed the room to his dresser. He searched his drawers for something baggy and stupid, something he wouldn't miss. After a few seconds, he landed on a gray shirt with a smiling pterodactyl on the front. Faded words words under the creature read 'You're Dino-Soaring!' Good enough.

“Hopefully this shirt isn’t too provocative,” he grinned as he handed it over.

“Hm, I’ll have to make it work,” she said, inspecting the shirt in an overdramatized sort of way. While she looked at the shirt, Peter went right back to looking at her. She’d be a welcoming sight to wake up to next morning. He wouldn’t even mind paying for her Uber—hell, he might even walk her out of the house, make sure she gets in—

“You got a bathroom I can use? To change?” Her voice interrupts his thoughts, and he shakes the clouds from his eyes.

“Yeah, of course,” he nodded. A few doors down and they make it to the bathroom. Peter goes first, checking for drunk bathtub dwellers, before slapping the doorframe.

“All yours,” he announced, leaning against the wall next to the door. She gives him a salute before entering and closing the door behind her. It only takes a minute or two before she’s emerging again, extending the discarded windbreaker to him.

“It’s a little sticky,” she warns as she hands the jacket back to him. Peter’s eyes wandered down to her shirt.

“Oh, look, you’re ‘Dino-Soaring!’” He chuckled, the low, throaty kind that says he’s holding back an actual laugh.

“I’m always Dino-Soaring.” Her laugh accompanies his. His lips curl up in another smile.

“Do you wanna get something to drink? I can promise this one won’t end up on you,” he suggested, holding that same grin.

“Alright.” Her nod makes his lips quirk up higher. In a reverse of moments prior, he leads her down the stairs and to the kitchen when the sticky remnants of the spill have dried to the floor.

“What’s your poison?” He asked as he tucked the windbreaker under his arm.

“Just Coke—I think I’m gonna tap out for tonight.” Her eyes travel over the sticky floor and the stained shirt in her hands.

“Two Cokes, coming up,” Peter nodded. Two red cans are procured from the fridge in an instant.

“Thanks,” she hummed as she took the drink from his hands, “And thanks for the shirt, too. It really would’ve sucked to have to wait until I’m home to change.”

“Don’t mention it.” He waved her off, cracking open the tab of the Coke.

“Living in a frat must be…sticky.” She can’t seem to peel her eyes off the spilled patch of beer.

“Sometimes,” Peter chuckled, “But it’s not all bad. I get to give out dinosaur shirts.”

“Oh, don’t tell me that I’m not the first girl to ever Dino-Soar around these parts,” she gasped in mock surprise.

“No, no, trust me, I’ve never seen someone Dino-Soar quite like you,” he grinned in reply. He liked her. She was a little awkward, but so was he. He liked her smile, her laugh. He’d probably like her name, too, if she would ever give it to him.

“You never told me what your name is.” His head cocked to the side in a questioning manner. Her expression twisted in a way that told him she knew that was coming.

“That’s right,” she hummed, “Never told you it. Before I do, can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” he nodded approvingly.

“Do you not recognize me?” Her lips curled in a small smile, “Peter, we’ve had classes together since freshman year—and not just the lecture hall ones, like, the ones where there’s only twelve people in the room. It’s sort of a statistical marvel. I’m honestly less offended and way more impressed that you don’t know me.”

The words hit him like a semi-truck. Really? She’d been in his classes? She had to be joking—no, she wasn’t joking, the look on her face told him that much. He immediately searched through his memory for her face, combing through classes. Peter never took himself as someone with a bad memory, but he was starting to change his mind. She had to be lying—she wasn’t lying.

“You’re—”

“Where have you been? What the hell are you wearing?” He’s interrupted by another voice. Sliding onto the scene (and effectively ruining Peter’s chances of salvaging the situation into a hookup) is a girl with puffy red hair. Freckles dot her olive skin and scrunch with her as she brings her nose up.

“Long story,” Dino-Soaring Girl responds with a smile, the one she’d been giving to Peter only a moment ago.

“Okay, okay, we’ll come on,” the redhead grasped her arm gently, “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Liv threw up after doing a Jägerbomb and we’re gonna head out. I don’t wanna leave without you.”

“The power of Jägerbombs,” Dino-Soaring Girl shook her head. Before she was dragged off, she turned to Peter for one last look.

“See you in class?” She suggested with a smile. He didn’t get to respond before she was gone, the redhead threading through the masses of people. Peter watched her go, unsure whether he should be confused or smiling. He chose the latter.

Peter Parker wasn’t dumb, but he was stupid. And, he was out of a dinosaur t-shirt.

[onyourowndaisymae]

unicorn bandages - alt. version

this has been sitting in my drafts awhile. someone requested some lucifer hurt/comfort (that i haven't got around to yet) and i wrote this, only to realize this didn't exactly hit the mark when i finished. but i figured it's cute, so i might as well post it

word count: 1145

content + warnings: playful/smartass lucifer, general fluff, minor physical injury, general mentions of embarrassment

you need to learn to be more careful.

that's what you think as you walk the rest of the way home to the house of lamentation, lost in your own thoughts. the gentle searing pain of your skinned knee was enough of a punishment-- did you brain have to keep replaying the memory of you tripping in the middle of town, too? being clumsy and wearing shorts were both incompatible with your plans today, yet here you are, looking foolish and feeling exposed from your mistake.

the blood had long since dried against your skin. you felt sticky and gross, yearning now for a shower and a place to hide from your lingering embarrassment. did anyone from RAD see you eat shit outside that shop. ugh, and they way nobody helped you up, how you awkwardly stumbled to your feet and-- ahhh!! please, no more!!

the familiar creak of the front doors announced your arrival to the house of lamentation. you shuffled inside awkwardly, head hung, staring at your feet to avoid another tumble. even the book you bought on your day out couldn't console you enough to block out the invisible judgement you felt.

"what is that?"

you lifted your head to find lucifer stopped in the archway to the living room, eyes narrowed at you.

"huh?"

"what is that?" he repeated. "what happened to your knee?"

"oh. i, uh, i fell on my way home and scraped my knee. i don't-- i'm fine. it's just a scrape."

you felt the urge to shy away from his stern gaze, to hide your little scrape from his prying eyes and pretend it never happened. he looks at the wound for a few moments longer before meeting your eyes.

"will you sit down on the stairs for a moment, mc?"

"it's not that big of a deal. it just need to be wiped off, nothing special."

"then surely you'd be okay with me cleaning it for you? since it's such a minor injury."

you couldn't think of much else to argue. he gave you that smug half-smirk he saved for minor victories such as this and disappeared from sight. you shuffled to the stairs and sat, slumped in defeat, as he presumably went to fetch some first aid supplies.

the avatar of pride returned as quickly as he left, this time with a small black box in his hands. a small gesture of his hands urged you to stretch the injured leg out to give him better access. gloved hands busied themselves digging through unidentified supplies.

"what happened?" he asks, quietly, as he pulls out what looks like a cotton pad and some sort of cleaning agent.

"i was... i went out to get this book satan recommended. y'know, because he always wants to talk about what he's reading." he nodded and you continued. "so i decided to grab it while i was out. apparently there's a hole in the sidewalk out front, because as i was walking out, my foot got caught and i-- ow!"

your cry of pain was almost indignant as lucifer interrupted your story by cleaning the wound. the sharp sting of something akin to but not quite isopropyl alcohol lit your knee on fire. had the scrape really been that bad?

"the bacteria in the devildom is a bit more aggressive than in the human realm," he explained, softer look on his face than a moment ago. "we wouldn't want our favorite human getting sick from an accident like this, would we?"

as if he was trying to apologize, lucifer brought your knee closer by the back of your leg and gently blew on the wound to alleviate some of the pain of the cleanser currently working its magic. it was nice. for a moment, he was lucifer, big brother, not the avatar of pride he embodied in public. his fingers fiddled with pulling and stretching your skin to ensure each inch was properly wiped clean. there was a certain level of sincerity to his movements that made you smile.

"did you do this a lot when your brothers were growing up?"

"you have no idea."

that makes you laugh. he smiles, just a little, before continuing.

"angels are supposed to be resilient. their skin is thicker than a human being's, so they shouldn't get hurt as easily. and yet training my younger brothers was-- well, it was quite the event."

"i'm gonna guess mammon was the biggest pain?"

"definitely mammon." a fond smile. he wiped a cotton pad across your busted knee before continuing. "every time i saw him, he was always covered in bruises and scrapes. i could never quite get him to admit that he'd got them wandering off in pursuit of his younger brothers."

"that sounds a lot like him."

lucifer picked up a small tin containing the bandages. these must have been picked out by asmodeus-- instead of the usual plain design lucifer always grabbed, these were bright and colorful with unicorn designs. the avatar of pride only offered a small sigh before pulling an adequately sized one out and applying for you. in a few moments, what was a terribly embarrassing memory had been sealed from the world behind two unicorns hopping in unison over a rainbow.

"aren't you going to kiss it better?"

your sarcastic question was followed by your mischievous little smirk. maybe you shouldn't have teased him while he was in such a good mood. his eyes narrowed a bit before, to your surprise, his smirk mirrored your own.

you open your mouth to play off your joke, but lucifer's already lifting your knee to his mouth. your whole body is sliding uncomfortably off the stair step-- karma sure is efficient-- as his lips hover above your knee. lucifer's lips brush the top of your bandage. he makes an obnoxious kissing sound to honor your request before unceremoniously dropping your leg, leaving you sprawled in an odd position on the steps.

"i was kidding," you whine.

"my apologies. i just wanted to make sure you healed correctly."

"yeah, yeah, whatever you say."

the avatar of pride is quick to repack the first aid kit and rise to his feet. you reach out for his hand to help you up. in a bout of playfulness, he instead high fives your open palm, small smirk dripping with sarcasm. of course you had to catch him in a good mood. you sigh dramatically. this time, his offer to help you stand was genuine. a quick tug of your hand and lucifer had quickly pulled your fragile human body off the steps.

"careful, mc. wouldn't want you to fall again."

"i think you'd enjoy it, actually. sadist."

"... you're probably right."

"huh?!"

your cry is indignant as he begins to exit. you chase after him without hesitation. that smirk on his face meant he was joking, right?

[copinghex]

Lie | T.S

Summary: The end of vendetta brings the crisis in Tommy's marriage to light. When his attempts of conciliation fail he refuses to face the truth, finding much more comfort in a lie.

Tommy felt his heart gripping on his chest hearing his wife's laugh from across the living room. Not exactly melodic or exemplary from a lady, but genuine and deprived of worries, something he hadn't heard in months.

The end of the vendetta didn't bring the relief he thought it would, with John's death and a crisis in his marriage, he didn't have much to celebrate.

Nevertheless, the party went on, Arthur talked to Bonnie with the same excitement a father would to a son, Ada and Finn seemed to be rebounding after so long apart, Lizzie and Polly had their own internal jokes going on, Linda seemed to have a hard time socializing and at last, Tommy's wife chatted with Aberama while he stood alone in a corner.

He bit his inner cheek, jealousy taking over his most rational side, he used to make her laugh, even after the war killed his youngful sense of humor, his ironic or critical remarks rarely failed in putting a smile on her face. However, he was well aware of the space growing between them, if he didn't do anything the chances of losing her were huge. Clearing his throat, he raised a toast, distracting her from Aberama and initiating his plan to get her back.

As the night fell on, the guests naturally collected themselves. Finally, Tommy was alone with her, the bedroom felt as tense as a battlefield, a step wrong and he's out of the game. 

Sitting on the edge of bed while she removed her jewelry on the dressing table, he tried to start a conversation.

"It's over," he referred to the vendetta.

"...it is," she sized him up through the mirror, "the children are happy to go back to school," 

"Yeah," Tommy breathed out, surely the months every Shelby had to be recluse affected their learning process, he couldn't help but to feel guilty, his babies doing well in school was one of his biggest prides since he didn't have this privilege, still, at least they were alive and everything would go back to normal, "could've been worse," 

"Yeah, I wish John's children could go back too," she pursed her lips hesitantly, "y'know, sometimes I-"

"Yeah?" Tommy encouraged, surprised by the cold way she brought John up.

"Sometimes I wonder what it would've been like if none of this happened, it started with the guns and we never had peace after," she looked down at her own hands, "sometimes I wonder if it wouldn't have been easier if Polly, Martha and I still ran the business and you- you and Arthur-" 

She gulped, getting completely silent. Tommy felt his lips dry staring at her, did she just admit she wished he was dead? Taking a drag of his cigarette, he preferred to believe his paranoia got the best of him. He had to believe it or he'd go mad, if one of the few things keeping him alive wished he was dead, there was no point in everything he'd done for him, her and their family.

"Anyways, I- hm," she continued, "I think I'll take a shower before bed," 

"C'here," Tommy reached for her arm, what should've been an affectionate gesture of pulling her to his lap felt awkward and forced.

Her body was rigid in his embrace, seeming to avoid touching him more than necessary. His arms locked around her waist and his lips rested on her shoulder, at the same time she held his forearms with certain pressure, as if she could push him away at any moment.

The sweet scent of her perfume intoxicated Tommy's senses, he barely remembered the last time they intimately touched each other and by then, feeling her soft skin and her comforting weight on his thigh, he craved her badly.

"I love you," he whispered, still focused on putting their marriage back on the tracks, uncomfortable silence started with her lack of answer, he had no other option but to continue, "I know I pushed you away in the last months, I was-"

"Scared," she cut him off, "I know," 

"...and it's over now," Tommy completed, "now we have all the time in the fucking world," 

"To do what?" 

"Well, for me personally," he changed his tone, sounding hopeful, "to take care of you," 

She sighed, pushing his arms away from her waist and cupping his cheeks, a pout showed on her lips as if she'd just been asked to do a long, boring task. 

His eyes fell to her lips darkening with lust, he was the one to initiate a kiss, slow and full of desire. An unfamiliar, complaint-like sound left her lungs as he laid her on the bed, trailing the way down to her neck and collarbones.

Usually, Tommy's passionate acts would've ignited her fire, giving her shivers and the overwhelming urge of being close to him. That night wasn't the case, she laid down in silence, watching him lift her dress and massage her thighs in a pathetic attempt to turn her on.

When he removed her underwear and put his head in between her legs, she struggled to keep quiet, regardless of everything his tongue was still skilled, licking circles on her clit as his fingers toyed with her entry.

Soon, she came undone, a tiny smile crawled into Tommy's face, that was a good sign. However, as soon as she closed her legs, pushing herself up into the mattress, far from him, he realized an orgasm wouldn't be enough to win her favor back.

He kissed the exposed part of her thigh and smacked her arse before heading to the bathroom. Tomorrow would be a new day and with some luck, she'd recognise his efforts.

The morning arrived suspiciously quiet in the Shelby household, Tommy sat alone in the large dining room, the table was already set for breakfast but his family was nowhere to be seen.

The scene looked like a joke of poor taste for those close to the family, Thomas Shelby, known for skipping meals, was the first to get on the table. 

He peeked at the clock, frowning as he realized everyone was terribly late, the children would miss some classes and his wife usually didn't stay in bed until late hours.

After two or three cigarettes, the food went cold and he was ready to go search for them. It wasn't necessary when his babies ran through the door and grabbed bread from the table.

"I'm gonna miss three more classes today, daddy," Florence, the youngest, started.

"Mama said she'll call the principal to explain what happened later," Anthony, his firstborn, completed.

"Oh, yeah?" Tommy asked, "And what happened, my boy?" 

"I don't know," he shrugged off.

"She forgot to wake me up," the daughter explained, "the driver will go real fast so I'll get the french class!" 

"That's a rhyme!" Anthony pointed out.

As they giggled to themselves, the worried mother showed up wearing pajamas covered by an expensive robe.

"I told you to go straight to the car!" she scolded.

"We wanted to talk to daddy!" Florence argued.

"Well, I suppose you just did," 

With the mother's final words, the children lowered their heads and walked out, leaving her and Tommy alone.

"Flora said you forgot to wake her up," he commented.

"Tommy, I-" she whined, annoyed by his tone, "I got an important call, alright?" 

"Whose call?" 

"From the institute!" she took the seat beside him, "What the hell was I supposed to say? Call later, I have to get my children ready for school? The maids are here to help with this too!" 

Something was deeply wrong, from her defensive tone to the said institute call at early hours in the morning. As much as it hurted to realize, Tommy knew she was lying to him, he only had to find out why.

"At least we'll have fucking breakfast together," he ironically spat.

"Oh, isn't that great?" she retaliated, filling her mouth with a piece of cake and avoiding looking at him.

The minimum appetite he had earlier was completely gone with the conflict. All he wanted was to have breakfast with his family, mainly with her, so she'd warm up to him again.

Everything went absolutely wrong and as a matter of fact, felt worse than yesterday.

"Look, I just-" Tommy started, "I just wanted to have breakfast with my family after a fucking vendetta ended, can I do that?" 

"I don't know, can you?" pouring herself a cup of tea, she stood up from the table and headed out, "I'll change off these pajamas," 

Watching her leave, Tommy squinted, thinking of what else he could do for her to go back to herself, because that wasn't her, that cold, dismissive woman surely wasn't the one he married. As a last shot, he decided to offer what his kin seemed to like the most about him - his money.

Another day went by and they didn't have much contact. Still, when nighttime came, they were unavoidably reunited in their shared bedroom. With the children in bed, the house was quiet, if it weren't for the lights on, anyone watching from outside would think it was empty.

"Did you speak to the principal?" he asked.

"Did," she sat on the end of bed, putting moisturizer on her arms.

"And?" 

"They'll have some extra homework, he said they're smart children, they'll recover soon," she explained, "and about those months they missed, they'll stay until later hours twice a week," 

"And the institute?" 

"What about it?" she gulped.

"Someone called at fucking sunrise," Tommy questioned, "I imagine it must've be something important," 

"Yeah, hm-" she stuttered, "someone wanted to make an anonymous donation," 

"Oh, there's no registers in the book," 

"Because I haven't made any yet," she argued, "what is it, Tommy?"

"Just curious," 

She scoffed, turning her focus to herself.

"I've got something for you," he continued.

Her eyes slightly widened, it had been a long time since he surprised her, "For me?" 

Opening the wardrobe's drawer, Tommy took a black velvet box, he stood in front of her and revealed a diamond necklace sparkling in its expensive glory.

"What did I do to deserve this?" she quietly asked, "It's not even my birthday," 

"Does a man need a reason to gift his wife?" 

"I suppose," she allowed him to clasp the jewel around her neck.

"Well, what do you think?" 

"It's beautiful," she pouted, "thank you, Tom," 

His shoulders dropped with her carelessness, she not only didn't seem excited, she seemed sad, tense about something he couldn't guess. Caressing her shoulder, he tried to get something out of her, "Are you alright?" 

"Yeah," 

"So what's with that face?" his hands traveled from her shoulder to her cheek.

"Nothing, I just had a long day," she removed his hand from her. 

Tommy watched her take the necklace off, get a blanket and make herself comfortable in bed, as if he wasn't even there, as if both he and the diamond were irrelevant. Then she peeked at him, silently asking if he wouldn't lay down.

Turning off the lights, he went back to his office, it wasn't an invitation to lay down with her, she only wanted him to stop demanding her attention. Tommy felt like he ran out of options, there was nothing to do but wait until the situation reached its peak.

Two months went by, time in which they practically lived alone, the others presence didn't add anything, few words were spoken and physical touch seemed forbidden. 

No words could express how much Tommy missed his wife, to have her greeting him when he got home, to hear her excitedly dumping news from the institute on him, to feel her neediness in kisses that were meant to be a simple goodnight peck.

Frustrated and irritable, he decided to go home earlier on a cold Friday evening, he'd never expected the scene that welcomed him home. She happily talked to someone on the phone, laughing like she hadn't for long, realizing he was home, she put the phone down.

"You're early," she greeted.

"Who was that?" Tommy was quick in asking.

"Oh, just a friend of mine," 

"Friend," he nodded, "he must be really fucking funny, right?" 

"Her," she corrected, "and yes, she's really funny," 

"You should invite her over, maybe she can bring some fucking happiness to this house!" 

"What the hell are you talking about, Tommy?" she shrunk her shoulders, intimidated by his loud tone.

"I'm talking about you talking on the fucking phone like everything is alright," he pointed out, "as if you hadn't fucking ignored me for two fucking months!' 

Sucking the air between her teeth, she whimpered, "I'm sorry," 

"What?" he froze, he expected anything from her except tears and an apology.

"I'm so sorry, Tom," she cried out, "I just- I didn't know what to do with everything we went through, I didn't know how to deal with it, I didn't know what to tell the children- I-

"Hey, hey-" he interrupted, guiding her into his embrace, "you could've said something," 

"Say what, Tommy? It 's pathetic!" she hid her teary face on his neck.

"I know, love," he soothed, "should've told me earlier" 

"I'm sorry,"

"I know," 

Holding her tightly against him, his most selfish side feasted on their closeness, she went back to him even if she had to fall apart for it.

"Let me make it up to you," she whispered, hands moving to his waist.

"Hm?" 

"I've been such a terrible wife," she lifted her head and looked into his eyes, "and you kept up with me, let me thank you," 

"Thank me, eh?" he teased, "and how would you do that?" 

"However you want me to, sir," 

Tommy gently held her neck, bringing her face closer to his. In this circumstance, he could have her in any way he wanted, she wouldn't argue. Nevertheless, he didn't want roughness, he wasn't even mad at her anymore, all he wanted was to be desired by her.

"Take me upstairs, hm?" she continued, brushing the tip of their noses together.

Three hours later, they laid together in bed, while Tommy stared at the ceiling trying to find out what exactly went wrong, she was in deep slumber. Considering her tone and apologies, he expected some passionate love making or at least something that wasn't her just laying there, uninterested.

Peeking at her, he didn't know what else to do, perhaps he was the one getting mad after all, missing a sort of relationship that only happened in his head. Officially, there was nothing else to do.

The only thing to change in her behavior was from then on, she had her eyes on Tommy all the time, observing, seeming to wait for the perfect moment to something.

After another four long weeks, he learned what she was waiting for. On a warm evening, Tommy took some time away from the business and sat under a tree, enjoying the sun rays on his skin.

"Can we talk?" she asked, sitting beside him.

Arching his eyebrows in surprise, he positively nodded.

"Tommy, I don't know how to tell you this," she hesitantly started, "I don't even know if I'm doing the right thing by telling you this," 

He felt his body tense with her tone, as if it was a bomb about to shell.

"I've been avoiding it for the last months because I thought it'd be temporary, I thought it'd be something that'd end soon and I'd go back to you but- ugh-" she sighed, "There's someone else," 

Tommy's throat burnt, he couldn't even believe his first reaction was the urge to cry. Still, his face remained blank, he looked away from her and frowned, as secondary emotion, rage came in a wave.

"Who is he?" was all he managed to ask.

"It doesn't matter," 

"Yes, it does," he threateningly drawled, "I wanna know who you consider a better fuck than me," 

"It's not about the sex, Tommy," 

"What is it about then? The dresses and jewels I filled your wardrobe with? Or perhaps the driver I picked wasn't of your liking-"

"I'm not going to fight you," she cut him off, "I've said what I had to say and now there's this, he wants me to move with him," 

Tommy gulped, some fucker had been planning to take away his wife right under his nose and he hadn't done anything about it.

"And I think I will but only if I take the children with me," 

"Oh," he scoffed, "and what makes you think I'll allow that?" he challenged, in any other circumstance he would, knowing how much children usually were attached to their mothers but his ego was hurt.

"The judge will decide that," she calmly answered, "he might not let a cheater have them but he certainly wouldn't let a gangster either," 

"...you wouldn't," Tommy argued, perplexed by her coldness. His beloved wife just threatened to snitch on him.

"I don't want to, so don't force me," 

Tense, dangerous silence fell between them, both looked away from each other, without any words left to speak, they could hear the laughs of their children playing in the garden.

Few minutes passed, the longest in Tommy's life, he often had moments like this, in which his life course could be permanently altered in a matter of seconds.

"Don't do it," he started, still not looking at her.

"I'll not if you-" 

"None of it, don't take the children, don't leave me," the second their eyes met, he sensed hesitation on her, so he continued, "don't you love me?" 

"Tom, I-" she softened up.

"Did you ever?"  

"Of course I did, a lot!" she quickly answered, "But if I say I do now I think it'd be a lie," 

"...so lie." 

[quixotical-lymbo]

Hi- I was wondering if I could request separate Wukong and Macaque headcanons for a reader who forgets to do important stuff? Not like work stuff or anything like that- but like- vital stuff? Like sometimes they forget to eat or sleep or take care of themselves properly. It’s not that they don’t want to, they just forget sometimes. But with their friends and people they care about, they never forget. Always reminding the group to eat and rest and stay hydrated while pushing their own needs to the side? only if your comfortable doing this of course!

Pairing: Wukong, Macaque & gn!Reader Rating: SFW Warnings/Tags: Y'know the drill, fluff, brief mentions of starvation, lack of sleep, and some crack from you-know-who.  Word Count: 500+ words 🍜 - didn't know if you wanted romantic or not, but I guess you can decide for yourselves if want it to be either or!

WUKONG

☀️ At first, Wukong thought you were playing some long con joke. I mean, there's no way you could forget to take care of a few important factors in your small, mortal life? I mean, even he knew not to miss a meal or nap if he could help it!

☀️ However, Wukong managed to witness it himself whenever he had the opportunity to visit PIgsy's shop. You seemed fairly normal, save for the heavy dark bags under your eyes and the way you took a few seconds to reply to anyone, but overtime Wukong could tell you hadn't slept a wink last night.

☀️ He'd bring it up in a joking manner, and when you sheepishly reveal that you forgot, his joking tone would turn into that typical older brother tone and remind you about the importance of sleep and how your body is a temple yadda yadda yadda. 

☀️ After it happened a few more times, Wukong would feel a bit exasperated ESPECIA-FUCKING-LY when you would remind MK or Mei to get enough sleep or eat their meals on time. 

☀️ Literally would be like, "Oh, you're one to talk." or "Are you sure you aren't reminding yourself to do these things?" 

☀️ At this point, he's gonna bully you into remembering. 

☀️ Overall, underneath all the teasing and playful gestures of him forcing food into your mouth–Wukong is worried about your forgetfulness, even if you don't mean to forget. 

MACAQUE 

🌙 Assuming that the two of you tolerate each other to be above the acquaintance stage, he wouldn't care at first. I mean, people normally forget to do things in favor of other responsibilities–and he wasn't your warden, so who was he to remind you to take care of yourself? Plus, with how often you remind the others to eat and drink water, he assumed you were on top of your shit. 

🌙 Oh, how wrong he was. 

🌙 Macaque didn't think he'd end up being the one to supervise how much you ate, drank, and slept without your knowing. Without being obvious, he'd sometimes slip a cup of water in your general vicinity, an apple here and there, or even kidnap you and bind you to your bed until you closed those annoying eyes of yours. 

🌙 You were very…persistent in your forgetfulness that Macaque stopped keeping an eye on you just to see what would happen. 

🌙 Well, you passed out in the middle of the street due to dehydration. 

🌙 Never again. 

🌙 Anyway, he learned to not stress himself out with this problem as he turned to MK to take over his duties as your 'mom.' 

🌙 From time to time he'll check up on you, but he'll keep his distance unless the situation calls for him to step in and make sure you're safe. 

🍜 - I do not give permission for anyone to translate, copy, republish, or plagiarize any of my written works. I provide no permission for any of my literary works to be used in artificial intelligence. sparkle banner(s) by @adornedwithlight !!

[wanderingelvis]

i loved your ‘elvis takes care of reader on her period’ and the ‘innocent reader’ fics!! I was thinking of another innocent reader fic? Or maybe just normal reader? Honestly which ever you vibe with more :) Where Elvis takes reader out shopping and they have a little fashion show + more cute stuff 🫠

Thank you! I loved writing this request - I hope you like it! I specifically had Sugar Daddy!Elvis in mind here 🧚

🧚🏻 Masterlist 🧚🏻 word count: 1,746

pairing: 1973!elvis x female innocent!reader

warnings: mention of virginity, slight smut, slight daddy kink

It was no secret that you'd had a modest upbringing - not just when it came to material items but also when it came to experience. Your mother and father had kept you sheltered and you'd had a relatively uneducated childhood which had hindered you a little when you grew older as you didn't really grow any wiser.

Elvis knew about your upbringing, actually, it was one of the things that drew him to you when you opened up to him one night. Elvis could relate to what you told him about not having many nice things or fancy possessions growing up and it made him feel protective over you, he wanted to be the one to expose you to his newfound world of luxurious and beautiful things.

And that's exactly what was happening, Elvis had taken you to a pretty boutique to pick out some new clothes for you as a special treat. Elvis had bought you clothes before, ones that he wanted to see you in but he'd never taken you shopping to actually choose the clothes before.

"It's pretty ain't it baby?" Elvis whispered standing behind you, rubbing the sides of your upper arms as he watched you chew on your lip as your fingers traced the soft tulle material of the dress on the hanger. You nodded gently in response, not saying anything. "Pretty dress like that should be on a pretty baby, don't ya think?" He hummed in your ear, sending shivers through your body. Even though he called you them all the time, you were still not used to the endless compliments and pet names that Elvis would give you. 

Elvis could tell you were hesitant to indulge in these little luxuries, he knew your battle-axe of a father had it engrained in you from very early on that money was to be spent on the necessities and for saving and not to be spent on something as frivolous as a party dress. You shuddered just thinking about what he would say if he could see you right now, looking at silly party dresses.

But they were just so pretty.

"It's so much money Elvis." You said softly, feelings of guilty washing over you. You knew Elvis was generous, someone just had to mention that they thought something looked nice and the next day it would be on their doorstep, courtesy of Elvis, but you were just feeling so overwhelmed at the cost until your eyes lit up a little and you spun round in Elvis' arms to face him.

"I could maybe, um, I could maybe pay for some of it! I don't have that much left but um, I should be paid soon and then, then I could give you some of it!" You said, your eyes wide eager enthusiasm. "A-and I could, maybe, um, maybe I could owe you!"

Now, Elvis knew as soon as the suggestion left your soft lips that he wouldn't allow you to pay him a dime towards the party dress that you obviously adored, however, after years of people around him trying to take advantage of him for his money, your small gesture meant a whole lot to him. 

Elvis chuckled a little as he studied your face which held nothing but sweet earnest, you were just so eager to please him. Elvis leaned down a little so he could crouch in front of you, taking your little hands in his big ones.

"Now lil' darlin', y'know I don't need any of your money, but that is awful sweet of ya baby,-"

"B-but I wanna give something back to you!" You interrupted, desperate to show Elvis that you really did want to contribute. 

Elvis laughed that deep, Southern chuckle, his large hand cupping your cheek as his thumb traced over it soothingly. "You're such a good lil' girl, y'know that?" Elvis cooed, raising his eyebrow slightly as he awaited your answer and watched as you blushed, recoiling cutely at the words.

You simply nodded in response, offering the big, tall, powerful man a soft smile.

"Oh baby, you know I wanna hear you say it." Elvis hummed. His tone was gentle and quiet but held so much dominance and power over you.

You opened your mouth which had suddenly gone dry at the command, "I-I'm a good little girl." You stuttered tripping over your words. Elvis knew that he'd made you feel all nervous and shy and he adored having that control over you.

"Atta girl." Elvis murmured. "Now, how's about you show me how pretty you're gonna look in that dress, hm?" Elvis whispered cooly, sending shivers through your small body and causing your eyes to go wide.

Elvis watched you intensely as you nodded at his not-so-negotiable suggestion. Elvis gave you a short nod back before rising fully and turning to the boutique workers who were stationed by the door, on alert to help with any request that either you or Elvis had.

"Ladies, I think we'll take it from here and Y/N here will try on one or two dresses. If y'all could wait outside the door and we'll let ya know when we're ready to make the purchase." Elvis dismissed, smiling at the women as they nodded and exited the room. 

Elvis practically sauntered to the couch in the middle of the boutique room, his large frame leaning back on the velvet couch and occupying all the space. He grinned at you as he sat, spreading his legs out, ready to watch you undress.

You shot him a tentative smile, feeling a little giddy and very overwhelmed at everything that was going on. Delicately, you picked out the beautiful tulle party dress and laid it in front of you before your trembling fingers began to unbutton the cute, short little dress you currently had on.

Sure, Elvis had seen you naked before, you'd been intimate in many ways already - you hadn't quite gone all the way yet, Elvis had told you that you weren't ready for that and you trusted him, but you still felt vulnerable, getting undressed in a beautiful albeit very public boutique in Vegas. Sure, you were in a private area in the boutique that Elvis had instructed the workers not to enter, but you'd really not done anything as risque as this before.

"Look at ya, followin' instruction so well that I didn't even have to tell you to strip and you're already desperate to get naked for me." Elvis said, snapping you out of your thoughts, making you blush for what must've been the thousandth time this afternoon. 

You loved the praise that Elvis gave you. You were always so eager to please.

You peeled off the dress, letting it drop to the plush, fluffy carpet, pooling by your ankles you were left in just your panties. You had forgone a bra and the cool air from the boutique breezed across your sensitive nipples, hardening them as Elvis watched, his eyes dark and full of lust. 

"Such a pretty girl," Elvis cooed, barely audible but enough for you to hear and let out a soft giggle that just the sound of could make Elvis' cock twitch. 

Elvis had been infatuated with you since he first laid eyes on you. You were just a little, starry-eyed thing that was constantly seeking praise and reassurance, desperate to please anyone you encountered. The innocence that radiated off you had certainly made an impression on Elvis. 

Elvis quickly realised that he could instruct you to do anything and you'd do it without question and not just because you were eager to please, but also because you were so naive that even some of Elvis' more immoral demands would go right over your pretty little head.

"Put the dress on for Daddy, baby." Elvis grunted, palming subtly at his lower region, the idea of you standing in the middle of the boutique, exposed and trembling with nerves but compliant to his every whim, making him feel aroused.

You nodded at his words, grabbing the gorgeous pink dress with your shaky hands, taking it off the hanger and carefully unzipping the fabric. You shot Elvis an innocent grin that he reciprocated as the excitement of wearing something so beautiful grew.

You stepped into the dress, shimmying it up your body, wiggling your hips adorably as you adjusted it to fit your frame. The excitement became all a little too much, consuming you entirely as you ran to the full-length mirror to see the dress on your body, gasping when you were met with your reflection.

"It's so beautiful!" You giggled angelically, twirling around to see the full skirt spin and looking over your shoulder to see the detailing on the back.

"Baby." Elvis said, making you turn to him immediately. "C'mere." He gently commanded, beckoning at you with two long fingers. 

You scampered over to him, bare footed as he pat his lap, gesturing for you to sit there, as you did, giggling as the tulle covered the both of you as you swung your little legs, your feet not quite reaching the floor when you leant back on Elvis' chest.

"My beautiful girl." Elvis hushed, kissing the top of your head. 

You were in heaven.

Elvis continued to whisper sweet nothings in your ear, praising you and complimenting you, making you feel all fuzzy in your tummy, which you told him straight away, making him chuckle at how utterly sweet you were.

"D'ya like the dress, little 'un?" Elvis said, teasing you as the answer had been obvious as soon as you'd entered the boutique.

You nodded enthusiastically, "Oh yes! Oh, I love it! It's just so, um, so beautiful! And look at the pretty beads and pearls! It's so sparkly! Oh Elvis, it's the prettiest thing I've ever seen!" You said, not understanding that Elvis was teasing you but it didn't matter, Elvis loved making you happy like this.

"Well, I think we ought to buy it for ya then baby, what do ya say?" Elvis chuckled.

"Thank you! Thank you so much, it's the nicest thing I've ever been given, it's the nicest thing I've ever worn! It's gonna be so special! I'll only wear it for special occasions!" You said with those adorable bush-baby eyes of yours.

"Special occasions hm? I think that's a good idea lil' mama." Elvis said, brushing your hair behind your shoulder as you sat upright in  his lap. "You know what that means, little one?" Elvis asked, making you furrow your brows and tilt your head to the side cutely in confusion.

"What?"

"Daddy's gonna take your virginity in this dress, baby." 

taglist: @reddie-freddie @meetmeatyourworst @octobers-snow @kxnnxy @slimerspengler @elvisbf @astralheart21 @prompted-wordsmith @vintagegirl2005 @imaginationlast @presleyenterprise @librafilms @ccab @wolywolymoley @wwebaby657 @billhaderstan420 @waiting4brucewayne2adoptme @elvispresleywife @ellie-24 @hollbunn @sassanoe @gothicphantom @eliseinmemphis @fallinlovewithurlove

[yarrystyleeza]

Congratulations on the milestone, friend!!! 🎉🎉 I’m so excited for you! 💖

So for your sleepover event I’d like to send in a request for someone that is probably NOT expected from me. Can I please get some fluff for one of my other absolute loves Daryl Dixon? Maybe something fluffy about being unable to fall asleep? Possibly something with a love confession? Whatever feels right for you I'd be excited to read! I miss my crossbow wielding love 😭❤

Thank you so much, Bella! This was definitely a milestone, and it wouldn't have been possible without you, thank you again! 🥰💞

And as for the request, I had such a fun time writing it, I missed Daryl so much and your request brought back so many memories 🥺💞💞💞

Night Birds (D.D)

Requested by @bellaxgiornata

Pairing and dynamic: Daryl Dixon x female!reader — friends to lovers

Prompt: fluff, one bed trope, unable to fall asleep, love confession

Word count: 2.2k!

Writer's note: this took me a while to write, not just because I haven't written anything for Daryl in more than 3 years, but the story building wasn't easy, and I just hope it's enjoyable and fun. Also, this lil fic is heavily inspired by Panic! At The Disco's out of the Vault "night birds", unfortunately it was taken down from YouTube due to copyright issues but here's a snippet of it on twt

"shit." you muttered under your breath, looking at the one bed at the end of the cabin, you squeezed your eyes shut and pinched the bridge of your nose. You and Daryl left Alexandria and went scavenging this morning, but your journey took way longer than expected and it was dangerous for you to take the road back home in this wintery night.

You twisted your lips in a thoughtful pout, Daryl soon notices that after he had locked the cabin door. "what?" he narrows his blue eyes as he asks, "it's a..." you gesture in the direction of the bed, "oh." he commented..

The two of you stood in place—silently for a full minute before Daryl makes a suggestion. "I can sleep on the floor--" immediately, you shook your head in disapproval, "no, Daryl, it's too cold and you might get sick," you fired back, "but I don' think that thin' can hold us up together, y'know," Daryl objected, "a bed is still a bed, even though it looks old, and rusty, and small... and a little crooked..." you gesture at the odd position the bed was in, tilting your head to try to find any correct angle in this bed.

Daryl stood silent for a moment to recollect his thoughts and you eyed him patiently, he eyed you a little before speaking, you cross your arms, pout your lips and knit your brows, waiting for him to drop the bomb of a thought because you knew what he's about to say now.

"there's another cabin down the road, 15 minute walk from here..." you rolled your eyes with a very loud objective groan, uncrossing your arms, "of course no, Daryl," he mirrored your eye roll, "don't even ask why, you know why, we need to always stick together, like— how am I supposed to make sure you're okay?" you interrupted before he could defend his suggestion, "we have our walkie-talkies--" he shrugged, "we don't," you whispered and he grimaced immediately, "what d'ya mean?" his brows got knitted, you smiled your teeth out.

"I thought it was a quick trip so I thought we didn't really need them..." you twisted your fingers as you answered with a low voice.

You lied about that, you actually brought the devices and you hid them in your backpack, you just wanted him to stay with you.

You've known Daryl for a really long time, you met back at Hershel's farm. You were a lone survivor and you happen to stumble upon Daryl in the woods. You needed a shelter and Hershel's family home provided this for you and in exchange, you helped them on their search for Sophia. Unfortunately it didn't go as intended, and everyone had to face the ugly truth about her death.

But during the search—Daryl accidentally got shot by Andrea and you offered to stay and take care of him—since everyone else was busy; and you found peace in his presence. That was the day you became true friends, inseparable friends.

Wherever Daryl was, you were with him. You were always together on missions, and whenever Rick talked about a scavenging mission you were the first one signing up the moment you know Daryl was on it too. You couldn't truly connect with other members in the group, you were shy and had troubles bonding with a big group of people, but you were always nice to them.

But, Daryl holds a special place in your heart, and you could never deny that. You were two lone wolves who found a little peace of mind together.

Now, you can see how frustrated he is, the look of both anger and worry are soaking his gentle features. "I'm sorry, Daryl," you muttered softly between your teeth, he shrugged, "forget 'bout it, pet."

You took your backpack off your shoulder and placed it by the end of the bed, you kicked your shoes off and slipped out of your heavy winter jacket. You fluff your hair and gently you lie down the mattress and your body sinks in. You were exhausted.

You watch Daryl as he makes his way to the bed, his expression is a little unsure of his actions and it was confusing, you rarely saw that face of him, he's nervous, silent and red. Daryl slowly sits on the edge of the bed, he lies down on your left side and you feel how timid he is.

"goodnight, Daryl," you lie on your back and you fix your eyes on the ceiling, he shifts a little, mirroring your pose but his hands are behind his head, his leather covered elbow brushes your cheek softly. "goodnight, pet," Daryl gently replies.

And you stay like that for hours, both facing the ceiling, you start counting the cracks in the wooden surfaces and they're twenty one, you want to pull your eyes out of their sockets to force yourself to sleep but you can't, the clock hanging on the wall had long died, you feel like a nocturnal animal who's unable to close its eyes but feeling drunk and paralyzed, you're too aware of how loud your heart is pumping tonight, you can feel every particle of dust falling onto your skin, and your breathing is so audible that you feel it ringing in your ears, it's uncomfortable and overwhelming.

Your eyes glance to the side and you notice how silent Daryl is, but he wasn't asleep either. "you can't sleep, right?" you mumble, your eyes are back on the ceiling, recounting the clefts, did their number increase?

"nah, and I guess you aren'..." he replies with the same calm tone, still looking up. "do you remember that night—back at Hershel's farm when neither of us was able to fall asleep?" you try to remind him.

The night Daryl got shot, you drank a huge amount of coffee in order to stay awake and take care of him, it was a terrible decision, because you spent the night and the next morning—shaking in weakness. And Daryl was in so much pain he couldn't close his eyes either but kept lying to you—telling you it feels more like a scratch. You kept hearing him groaning quietly and you kept petting his head to try and make his focus shift to the movement of your fingers in his hair. It was a very exhausting night but you woke up collapsed over Daryl as you had sat beside him on the edge of the bed.

"I get the same vibes here," your heart beats faster, you have no idea why you're nervous but you are. "us getting stuck together and having to deal with each other," you chuckle a little as you recall the events, "you were so pissed about me following you everywhere but then you got shot and I had to stay the night and take care of you," you keep on talking, almost feeling like you're talking to yourself. Daryl was silent, it was a little heartbreaking that he had no reaction to it.

"jeez, sorry for giving you a headache--" you sigh, tears almost stray out of your heavy eyelids, "at all, pet, I love listening to ya talkin' bout anythin'," he cuts you off, you feel his weight shifting next to you, you glance to the side and you see his blue eyes shining back at you in the dim light.

"I thought you were annoying at first but, I can't lie to ya, turns out you never were, pet," you giggle at his affirmation, "maybe because I'm a little too loud to you," you admit, your energies might have never matched but you still found harmony within it.

You remember the day you got kidnapped by Merle back at Woodbury, Daryl came over with the group to rescue you, Maggie, and Glenn. You were never able to remember anything about that event, never recalled how many hours or days you were gone but there was only one thing you remember for sure, Daryl ran up to you the moment he saw you and hugged you tight—almost crushing you in his arms. Something in you changed and you felt attracted and more attached to him. The worry in his blue orbs, and his tight hug still burns your skin.

Then the day everything fell apart and you had to flee the prison. You were introduced to the overprotective side of Daryl, he never left your side since then, and you always found yourself safe in his presence.

You never wanted to be away from him, and you hated the fact that you got separated when you first arrived to Alexandria, you were so mad that you picked up a fight with him intentionally so he could spend more time talking to you. You felt torn apart whenever he had to leave for a scavenging mission without you, and you couldn't stand any lady trying to hit on him.

The realization hits you hard... You've been in love with Daryl for longer than you can imagine.

"you look tired, pet, you need t' sleep," you almost chuckle at his words, "wish I could but I can't," you mumble. He half sits on the bed, "c'mere, pet," you look up at him, his arms are open wide for you, your heart twists in your chest as you try to make up your mind. You give up and place your head over his chest, his heart pumping next to your ear, his fingers delicately slip through your hair and he gently moves his tips on your scalp in circular motions, your eyes flutter shut and you snuggle your face into him.

His movement misses around with your heartbeat, poor little thing is thundering in your chest. You truly can't live without him.

"I care so much 'bout you, pet," your heart dropped, could this mean that you weren't the only one feeling it? You weren't so sure about it yet, but you decided you should let him finish his words.

But then his hand travels down, leaving your hair, his palm cups your cheek and his thumb fondles your blushed skin. "I care— so much 'boucha that I never think of anythin' else except for ya," you shift your head to look up at him and you find him staring back down at you.

You couldn't help but lift your head off his chest to sit straight and look directly at him in disbelief, he's astonished by your reaction and you see him lowering his eyes to his now tangled fingers. "I shouldn't 've talked about it, 'm sorry," he mumbles and you shift closer to him.

You don't quite know how you did it, but you aimed a kiss to his lips and he is taken by surprise. The very first time you've ever put your lips on him feels so unique, but you're to scared to indulge in the feeling. You part away from him, his face is unreadable, he turned pale white. Realizing what you just did. Did he actually feel anything for you? Does he even like you back? Was this the right thing to do? Or did you misunderstood the whole situation? You had no answers for those questions.

You're overthinking it a lot that you don't notice him moving closer to you, cupping your cheeks and drawing you into a kiss. Your shoulders fall and your hands envelope the back of his neck, gently tugging onto his long locks. His hands round your waist and you could feel the smile on his lips, he draws you over to his lap and he hugs you tight as the kiss continues.

He kisses you sweetly, and you only melt more into him, fumbling his face with the tips of your fingers, feeling the soft stubble on his cheeks. His hands go back over your cheeks and he's softly caressing them, tucking your hair behind your ears and you feel his lips stretching once again.

Daryl slowly pulls away from you, he's shy, he's nervous, he's flustered, and surely he's shaking but his smile is so big that you could barely see his ocean blue eyes. "so sorry I didn't mean to scare you, I was just—" you say and he giggles at you, "gosh, I love you, Daryl," you chuckle, the small of your hands are still enveloping his cheeks, "I love you too, pet, always did," Daryl slowly pulls you back into another kiss, you both smile as you sip on the uniquely sweet flavor you two created.

"think you can get some sleep now, angel?" Daryl murmured while your lips are still locked upon each other, you nodded with a slight chuckle, "alright, lemme tuck you in, lil' one," you slip from over his lap and he shuffles back to his place, taking you in his arms and resting your head onto his chest, playfully messing with your hair, you round his waist with your leg and snuggle into his chest, he keeps peppering your temple with little pecks until you both fell asleep.

Daryl wakes up early and he gently pulls himself from under you—in fear of disturbing your deep sleep, he gets up and makes his way to the little dining table where he had placed his bag, he scavenges through it for food but he finds nothing.

Daryl tries his luck with your backpack and searches through it, and that's where he finds the walkie-talkies you hid all day long... And you had witnessed his finding yourself.

Likes and reblogs are appreciated, thank you for coming to my sleepover celebration! 💞💞💞

[flying-nightwing]

I gotta know.

In your professional opinion, do you think slade knows the hand on the lower stomach trick and the pillow trick?

Do you think anyone else your write for knows them? 👀

hehehheheHEHEHE 👀😏

I believe Slade knows, and knows it *very* well. HOWEVAH. Him using either entirely depends on whether or not he cares about the pleasure of the person he's having sex with. He's definitely not using the techniques on someone he's having a one time thing with, that he never wants to see again. Can't afford to have someone trail after him begging for more and/or have them recognize him out of all things because of it if he's on a mission or smth, y'know? bc yeah that will happen he's that good (man's got an ego to the moon). But if it's someone he wants around? Someone he wants to see again? He's never gonna tell them that, that's for sure but that orgasm WILL bring them back to him without fail. every. goddamn. time.

As for the other characters, Bruce knows them. And he's good at it. Selina taught him and it changed his mf life. He definitely uses them more leisurely than Slade, Brucie's a giver in bed and he just LOVES to see his partner's soul ascend from what he's doing to them. He's got a reputation to uphold and he'll literally die before he lets down a partner of his.

Dick knows too. I refuse to believe he wouldn't. But I feel like he would act like it's something incredibly normal. Like, he wouldn't even notice he's doing it, and he'd genuinely be surprised when his partner reveals it was the first time a man did that to them (eventually he'll realize that not everyone actually knows that or are bothered to do it, but he still wouldn't treat it as a special event kind of thing). He's just out there, casually raising the bar for everyone else. Dick game strong in every sense of the term babes.

Jason's case is a bit more complicated. If we take him right after his resurrection, them no he doesn't. Jason died a virgin, I will die on that hill, and whatever happened with Talia didn't actually happen I don't know what you mean. Bro's caught up in revenge and taking over a crime empire, he does NOT have the time for a game of dating and seduction. He's under so much stress, oh my god. And when he begins to chill, his partner is Roy, and Jaybird's not the one on top babes (again, HILL I WILL DIE ON). But Roy does teach him the trick so older Jay knows too. When he uses the tricks, it's already bc he trusts his partner enough to see him naked and vulnerable so it's pretty much always in a sweet way.

Since we're on the topic of Roy, well, he obviously knows. Roy "I seduced a dangerous international assassin to the point where she had my kid" Harper absolutely knows and he's SMUG about it. As the Youth™ says, bro's got rizz. He knows your exes weren't as good as him. By the time he's done with you, you won't even remember you had exes.

Tim read about it one time when he fell down a rabbit hole of research after opening the internet to (initially) look up romantic gestures idea. He tries to use it but it turns awkward the first few time, bc he treats it like any other skill and it just breaks the mood. Until he can find someone he trusts enough to practice with, he'll just refrain from doing it.

Steph knows. And she will openly criticize the men in her life that doesn't. Being ego checked by Steph is probably the most mortifying thing ever. "Oh? You don't know about those? Yikes... That's embarrassing. Yeah. Yeah no you should take down that tweet about being a sex god, yeah, you're just embarrassing yourself more now. Please stop" She's braver than any US marines.

(that's pretty much the main ones but if i forgot any lmk)

[mangoguy]

Displacement (1/2)

John "Soap" McTavish(2009) x Reader x John "Soap" McTavish(2022)

Warnings: Mention of Modern Warfare 3 (2011), Some fluff, they/them used once other than that no pronouns are used.

You recall your relationship with your John while in the hospital.

Another entry For @glitterypirateduck Soap It Up challenge!

This was heavily inspired by the Multiverse AU by shotmrmiller. It's been on my mind for a while lol

"Right, what the hell kind of name is 'Soap', eh? How'd a muppet like you pass selection?"

You heard Price state, looking up from cleaning your gun you saw the new guy who was set to join. Fresh faced and ready for battle, you wondered how long that would last. You watched as he passed the C.Q.B with a pretty average time, but he passed nonetheless. After that Price quickly briefed the team on the mission, infiltrating and assaulting a cargo ship in the Bering Strait. He dismissed us to get ready, deciding you wanted to try and get to know the new guy. You walked over to him and fell into step with him. 

You remember it wasn’t hard to get him to open up, which was surprising, most of the guys here were not up for much conversion. After a while, you decided to ask the biggest question on your mind, you asked him about his hair. 

“Why did you decide on a mohawk?” You heard him huff.  

“Because it was cool…” He mumbled.

"I love ye, y'know that right?"

You could faintly hear Captain McTavish mumble those words under his breath but the sound of the helicopter made you wonder if you heard it at all. What affirmed that it was indeed said out loud was when he took his hand in yours, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand in a soothing gesture. Who he was comforting, you weren't sure, but you had an inkling it was to ground himself. 

You recall It was his first mission as captain and if he was nervous he sure as hell didn’t show it. But you knew him, he often sought some small physical contact as comfort when he was nervous. 

It's funny how you remember these things.

You also remember his first mission as captain went off without a hitch, of course, there were hiccups but like he promised nothing happened to you. It was oddly sweet in its own way, he knew you could take care of yourself but he often fretted sometimes (even if he didn't entirely show it).

Another moment you recall with John McTavish was when you two were outside. He was smoking and you were just keeping him company. It was a nice evening, a bit cold but nothing you couldn't handle. You two were talking about anything and everything as you two normally do. Then the topic of living together came up.

"Y'know... I've been thinking after all this is over we need to... do couples things" he chuckled.

"Oh yeah? Like what? I thought fighting in battlefields was good date material," you joked.

"Ah, that's gettin' old... we could get our own place," he suggested. 

"Get our own place? What are you suggesting?" You turned to look at him, he was already looking at you with a grin.

"Aye, I'm sayin' we should live together once this is all over and done with, I'm thinkin' out in the fields near a small town, just the two of us," he stubbed out his smoke before leaning against you. He wrapped an arm around your waist and brought you closer. 

"Hm, that sounds wonderful... We could get a cat... maybe two so the other one wouldn't be lonely," you suggested, planting a kiss on his lips as you both thought about this fantasy. You'll never forget the way his cheeks turned a bit rosy after that. 

Though before house buying the one important thing on John's 'Couples things' list was getting married. Of course, you both talked extensively about it, making sure it was something you both were on the same page on. The ceremony wasn't anything special, just you, John, and a few friends and family to celebrate at John's Parents' house. It was a sweet time, filled with talking and laughing (Ghost and Roach were both raiding the snacks John's mom made). 

"Look at you, my little brother gettin' married! Never thought I see the day, thought you were married to the military life for a sec," John's sister teasingly bumped his shoulder. Though she was teasing, she seemed pretty proud and happy for him. 

"Aye, never thought I get so lucky, knew I wanted to marry them 6 months in but didn't want to scare them," John chuckled while wrapping an arm around your waist. You just rolled your eyes and nudged his rib, and he responded by pinching your hip before kissing your cheek.

But things didn't turn out like you both planned. Luck had to run out someday.

'I won't let anything happen to you,' rings in your head, he never failed to mention it before missions you both went on.

Is that why you were here?

You weren't sure how to explain it. One moment you were with John and Yuri, in that building, something went off and you woke up with someone looming over you.. before it all went black again.

You felt like you were in a different body, and you say that loosely since it still felt like you but a bit younger, less tense. You weakly opened your eyes, the blaring lights of the hospital flooding your vision. You groaned, wincing away for a moment before it felt safe to look again. The bed you were lying on was much softer than the ones back on base.

"Ah, you're awake," you saw a nurse to your left side checking your vitals, she gave you a reassuring smile.

"You were out for a while, almost two months! Had some bloke worried sick about you... Johnny, I think his name was," she started explaining. You never really heard people refer to John as Johnny but whatever at least you knew he was alive.

“Is he okay?” You rushed to ask.

“Yes he’s fine, was discharged a while ago, you were the one to take the most of the damage,” She paused to resume her work.

“Actually he should be coming back soon, doesn’t leave your side unless he needs the restroom, you definitely have a good one,” She chuckled.

Oh, thank god he was okay.

The nurse left you to rest after and you started mulling over what happened.

An explosion happened, you were falling alongside Yuri when it happened. But you couldn't remember much else.

You began to feel uneasy, like you lost a big part of yourself and yet you couldn't explain why. Which was weird considering the nurse just confirmed he was, in fact, relatively okay. While you were mulling it over some more you didn't hear the door opening and the sound of hurried footsteps rushing over to your bed.

"Yer awake!" 

You whipped your head up to see your husband, so grateful he was okay. You were almost ready to jump on him but you froze when your eyes finally landed on him. What looked like John, though he was a mildly younger version of him. He was a bit shorter than your John as well, along with sounding vastly different. 

That was definitely not your John.

He looked worried and relieved at you. Placing a hand on yours but also trying not to hover around you, you noticed a tattoo on his right arm, John didn’t have an arm tattoo. He decided to just sit down on the chair that was pushed near your hospital bed. Not knowing what to do you took your hand out of his and placed it on your stomach. 

That’s when you noticed your simple wedding band was gone.

Replaced with one that had a pearl and a few diamonds.

Whose ring was this?

You were confused and dare you say scared. Scared more than you ever have been in your life and that's saying a lot considering your line of work. But where exactly were you? 

"Yer looking at me like ye don't know me, Bonnie," the man broke the silence. 

But you didn't know him, you assumed this was the bloke the nurse mentioned.

Johnny. 

Wearing the face of your John.

Just what exactly happened?

Words: 1,347

Reblogs and comments are appreciated!

[glassesntea]

Another sneak peek from my upcoming Levi x fem!reader headcanon

You couldn't shake the feeling that you didn't deserve this, that everything would crumble down, letting misery and sadness flood back again.

You saw Gabi looking at you, a worried expression on her face, "Y/N? Are you okay?"

Even Falco has stopped talking, a similar worry on his eyes "You don't like the stew?"

You gulped. The dread you felt climbing up your throath was slowly ebbing away.

You survived, you were here with people who cared about you.

You were not alone.

"Aha... no, it's fine," you croacked, smiling at the kids. Levi was staring at you as well, but you weren't able to held his gaze for long. It seemed to understand what has passed through your mind and you felt embarassement warming your face.

Don't look at me like that, I don't want anyone's pity.

"And the stew is delicious. Thank you, Falco."

-----

Later on, when the kids came back to their home, you sat down on the couch, reading a book.

You heard Levi approaching the living room, the ritmic tap of his cane stopping at the doorstep. You lifted your eyes from the page and, for some reason, he looked hesitant.

He opened his mouth once, then closing it, as if what he wanted to say eluded him. He limped near the couch, sitting on the other end away from you.

"Y'know..." he tapped his index on the handle of the cane "You don't have to do that."

"Do... what exactly?" You asked, careful not to sound too defensive. He turned his face to look at you, the light of the lamp casting a warm hue on his features. You have noticed that his blind eye was particulary sensitive to the sunlight. You have seen him squinting when you were outside with Onyankopon and the kids two days ago.

He didn't looked bothered by it right now, thankfully.

"Be cheerful like that."

You frowned "Uh? Should I be... miserable instead? Levi I don't know what you're talki..."

"No, wait I..." he tsked, lifting his hand "it came out wrong. What I wanted to say is: you don't have to pretend that you are fine if you are not."

You stayed silent. The old you, the one before the Rumbling, would have deflected his worry with a pleasant façade and a bubbly demeanor. Right now, that girl was chained somewhere deep within you, stunned in her numbness, unable to hide what you truly felt.

"I... I wasn't..." you held your breath for a second, before exhaling " I used to be able to find the positive aspects of everything once. To push forward without thinking much about..." you gestured vaguely "This."

Levi placed his cane to the side, making himself comfortable, leaning back on the couch with a grunt "A lot happened since then. Doesn't mean you should act in a way to make others feel better if you are not."

"Mh. I feel like I don't deserve any of this... not when many others didn't have the same luck."

"You have fought for this life, it wasn't luck. And many lives keep on walking on this earth for the same reason" he lowered his voice "don't do this to yourself, regretting things out of guilt and smothering your feelings won't do you any good."

Your eyes burned but your chest felt lighter, like the weight that crushed your lungs during dinner was suddenly lifted from your body. You sniffed. The book forgotten in your lap.

"I guess you are right. It's just... not easy."

"If it was, we wouldn't be here talking about it."

You snorted "Always the pragmatic, Captain?"

"I mean, you would be with Armin and the others. And... not here."

Oh.

"I don't know about that. But of one thing I'm sure..." you shifted closer, Levi stiffened a bit by your sudden movement but he regarded you with a tinge of confusion "This is the place I want to be regardless of everything. I'm not cut to be an ambassador and despite everything I love being here with the kids, Onyankopon and you. And you may not believe that, but I'm at peace here. I feel like I'm starting to piece my life together."

You placed your hand on his: it twitched, like he wanted to slip away, but in the end you felt the muscles relax. You knew he hated to show his missing fingers, let alone allowing others to touch the area. In your haste you didn't realize it, but to your surprise he squeezed gently and you smiled at him.

"I'm glad." His voice conveyed the same kindness, low and pure. The mellow light of the lamp made the sharp edges of his figure more round, almost youthful.

The eyes... has anyone ever seen this part of him?

As the thought slipped in your mind, the same sensation of three weeks ago came back in your stomach: a buzzing sensation that blurred the edges of everything outside the greyish-blue colour of his iris, the warmth of his skin...

Levi was unmoving. It was difficult to read his face right now. Or maybe it wasn't... because you saw... confusion, yes. Even a smidge of something more profound and vulnerable.

You percived a sense of longing in your chest. A crave for connection. You lowered your eyes to your interwind fingers, just in time to see a current in Levi's other hand that slowly move to cover you, trapping you in an unspoken desire to nearness.

"A-Ah, well, yes. I'm the first to be glad" you slowly but firmly withdraw your hand, and put some distance. Whatever happened, it disappeared like a reflex on the tides. You noticed Levi's expresion closing off again, clearing his throath and crossing his arms, like an armour. He pushed himself farther, like he feared that moment as much as you did.

This tension between you two was something you still didn't understand.

"Well, I'm beat." You streached yourself and got up "Gonna hit off the bed. Do you need me for something?"

"No, get some rest. See you tomorrow" he answered and you hurried toward you room, your heart beating too fast.

I don't know what it was. But I can't allow it out again.

We can't

Upcoming soon

[void-ink-studios]

Myth of the Wishmasters - Part 2

Alright, here we go Part 2 babyyyyyyy!

And thus, we've reached the ending of Wrath of the Wishmaster, at least for now. 50,000 words, 164 pages, and 20 chapters. Damn.

I hope this is an ending y'all can be pleased with. Your kind words, comments, and reblogs have honestly meant the world to me,

Thanks for getting me to accidentally participating in NaNoWriMo, ya hecks.

If you started following me for this fic, I hope you stick around. I do some other pretty neat stuff, writing included.

So, without further ado, here we go. Enjoy, y'all.

*psssst*

Hey!

There's also art under the cut!

Word Count: 3,300

Scarab carefully watched Prismo's face flip through... several colorful emotions.

Confusion, shock, befuddlement, all within a beat of very loud silence.

"...Wh-What...?"

Scarab tried to stand up a little straighter. He could do this. He had to do this.

"I asked... What would you wish for?"

"...Like, hypothetically?"

Scarab huffed, gracefully resisting the urge to facepalm. Glob, his love was a bit dense sometimes, wasn't he? "Prismo... I want to grant you a wish."

That just seemed to further baffle the Wishmaster, looking at Scarab like he'd grown a second head.

"But... what? Scarab, you know you can't grant my wish, right?"

Now it was Scarab's turn to look confused. He tilted his head at Prismo. "And why not?"

"Well... Wishmasters don't get wishes? Like, I can't just grant my own wish, I thought that was kind of obvious."

Scarab chirped, considering. "Well, sure, you cannot grant your own wishes. But... well, I'm not you, am I? There has never been two Wishmasters before."

Prismo blinked dumbly at him, like Scarab might as well be talking gibberish.

"Scrabby, Lovebug, I get what you're trying to do but... I don't think that's how this works...? I don't get to... y'know want things? I grant wishes for others!"

He laughed nervously, looking at almost anything in the Time Room other than Scarab. Until the beetle took his hand into his talons, giving his hand a tender squeeze.

"Prismo... You know you're allowed to want things, yes? I though you were finally... realizing that." Scarab gestured around the Time Room.

Prismo made an uncomfortable noise, looking at the floor.

"Not really...? Well, I mean, it's different. It's... It's one thing to, like, decorate the Time Room. It's simple. It doesn't... I dunno, rewrite reality. Me wishing for something could... could...."

"Could what?"

"I don't know Scarab! Break the multiverse?!"

"Prismo. You exist outside of time. Outside of most of reality itself. It's true, we don't know what might happen if you wish for something... But..."

Scarab made his way up Prismo's arm, onto his shoulder, to nuzzle his face sweetly.

"...You have done... so much for me, Prismo. You've done everything. My life, my eternity, is infinitely better with you in it. So... I'd be honored to do this for you. Let me have the honor of being the one to grant you your wish."

Prismo sputtered for a second, Scarab could see his brain stalling for a moment.

"I-I dunno, Scarab... It could just... not work. I wouldn't want your first granted wish to be a dud. And... what if this wish... takes us away from each other...?"

"If it does, then..." Scarab hesitated. "Then... I'm am thankful for being at least a part of your eternity. I would be happy, knowing I gave you something no one else could."

Prismo sniffled, shaking his head. He let his head fall into Scarab's side as he thought.

"...I..."

Prismo started and stopped a few times, trying to find the words. Scarab lets his talons run through the Wishmaster's curly hair.

"...Can I... think about it?"

"Of course, love. Take all the time you need."

Prismo gave his side a kiss, Scarab relishing in the close contact. He knew his Wishmaster had... quite a bit to think about. And that was okay.

It was a big shift for Prismo, him wanting things.

The two returned to a comfortable routine, thankfully in an unusual doldrum of Wish Makers. Prismo spent a lot of time staring at a blank lap top screen, thinking quite loudly.

Scarab made no attempt to ask again. He knew Prismo. He'd come forward when he was ready. If he was ever ready.

"...Scarab...?"

Prismo broke the silence one day, hesitant and unsure.

"Yes love?"

"...I think... I think there's one thing I could wish for..."

"Oh?"

Scarab put the book he was reading down, giving the Wishmaster his full attention.

"It's just... I like my life. A lot. I don't want what pretty much everyone who comes here would wish you. More responsibility would give me headache. I don't want money or wealth. I have you, and the life we built here, and that's perfect for me. But..."

"But...?"

"I've just been thinking... What happens when your... tenure here is over? We don't know when or if the Organizer might pull you back as an Auditor, and... well... I... I don't think I could stand it if I couldn't... If I couldn't be with you. But, I'm here, on the wall, except for extremely specific circumstances. It's never... bothered me before. But... Well, I wouldn't be able to hug you. Or kiss you. Or even just touch you."

Scarab listened, intensely.

He'd admit it, he didn't consider what would happen if he was ever called back. If he was ever made Auditor again, even if it was only part of the time, what would happen to his contact with Prismo...?

"So... I think I've got my wish, Scarab."

Scarab nodded, standing up, ready to listen. "Go ahead, love."

Prismo closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, steadying himself. Scarab could only imagine how strange it must've been to be on this side of the transaction for the Wishmaster.

Prismo mouthed something to himself, possibly double checking his wording. Now or never.

"I wish... I wish for those who hold the title of Wishmaster, as granted by the Dreamer... to have the ability to choose the form they take while in the Time Room."

Scarab felt the magic wash over him. It felt like it his body was emptied and refilled with something wild, chaotic. His thoughts raced, trying to fill in the gaps, just like how Prismo said. He looked at his partner, bracing himself, taking a breath.

"...Wish granted."

At first, nothing happened. A few beats passed, and nothing happened.

At least the multiverse didn't instantly delete itself!

Prismo blinked, looking at his hands, hesitant.

And then he reached forward.

The two sat in stunned silence as... a hand emerged from the wall.

Neither breathed for a long moment.

Prismo experimentally flexed... his hand. That was his hand. The fingers twitched as he turned it in all directions. It looked almost like it was made of gas, something fluid and constantly moving. It shimmered a deep, rosy pink, flecks of sparkling stars scattered across the knuckles.

The Wishmaster pushed further. A hand, then an arm, then a shoulder. A gradient from rose to his signature light pin, the flecks of stars traveling up the arm like freckles.

"S-Scarab...?"

"It's okay, love. Come on out."

Prismo took a deep breath, closing his eyes tight before stepping out.

Scarab felt his breath hitch. Oh dear Glob... Prismo was beautiful. So, so beautiful. His skin swirled and shimmered like a pool of water, looking far more ethereal than the beetle was expecting. Sitting in his chest was a glowing star, it's gravity holding the body together. Two shooting stars orbited around his chest, one a bright gold, the other a deep blackish-purple.

He was still mostly human shaped but... there was still something surreal about him. Alien. Otherworldly.

Prismo shook his head, seemingly getting used to the sensations of his own body.

"S... Scarab...?"

"Oh, my love... How do you manage to look more gorgeous every form you take?"

Prismo gave him a shaky smile, standing on shaky, uncertain legs. He looked at himself, really looked at himself, in wonder.

And then let out an undignified squeak at the realization that he was nude. He dove into the blanket pile, emerging with a pout as Scarab had himself a hearty laugh.

"Oh ha-ha, yeah, laugh it up." The pout wasn't serious, Prismo seemed far too enthralled with the prospect of his new dimension.

"Scarab! Scarab, come join me!"

"Me?"

"Yeah! I did say "anyone with the title of Wishmaster" didn't I? That's you too!"

Scarab seemed to only just register that that now applied to him. He made an excited chittering sound, hesitantly emerging from the wall. He felt odd, like he was on the verge of floating away, yet distinctly there. He was the same pale blue as his projection, but otherwise resembled his physical body pretty closely, just with the same swirling cloud appearance to his shell.

Scarab eagerly dove in to join the blanket pile, holding Prismo close, nuzzling and kissing him sweetly, lovingly.

"This is wild, man... Like... I'm sitting. Sitting in the Time Room."

"Right... quick point about that..."

Prismo cocked his head as Scarab climbed up to the entrance to the Time Roon and tried to stick his arm out. The gas that seemed to compose their bodies dissipated and faded up until his elbow.

"These forms extend only within the confines of the Time Room."

Prismo thought for a moment, but nodded. That was fine. He could requisition a body if he ever needed to leave the Time Room.

"Lovebug. Thank you... Thank you so much."

Scarab smiled, quick to rejoin his beautiful Wishmaster.

The two fell into a new routine soon after. Prismo found out pretty quickly he could dive in and out of the wall as he wished, change sizes, and float around the Time Room. He took a delightful amount of glee in dressing himself, finding himself a collection of loose robes, ones that hung off his shoulders lazily. Scarab was honestly a little surprised at the how conservative Prismo decided to approach jewelry. Unlike his usual routine of making himself sparkle like a treasure chest, he opted instead for simple earrings, a necklace, and arm bands.

He looked like something truly divine. Something awe inspiring.

And Scarab, of course, took to making some new additions to the Time Room. Specifically, a designated seating area, a luxurious spread of couches with pillows and blankets.

And boy were the looks they got from Cos and Death something else.

The Organizer seemed to pause for the first time in the eons Scarab knew her.

"...Hey Scarab?"

The beetle chirped, cracking an eye open to look at the Wishmaster. They were piled onto the couch, Scarab lounging on Prismo's chest, content.

"Yes, love?"

Prismo adjusted the hold he had on Scarab, nuzzling his neck. "I was wondering something."

"That's often worrying."

"Hey" Prismo scolded, unserious.

"Fine, fine. Carry on."

"...What would you wish for?"

Scarab froze for a second, thinking. It's not like he hadn't thought about it before. He's thought about it for centuries. Obsessed over it, even.

But that was before he would ever go to Prismo for help.

And... when he did finally understand that Prismo was someone he could trust... he shoved that wish down into his gut. He would never want Prismo to think he only got close for a wish...

"...I've thought about it before..."

"Really? How come you never made a wish then?"

Scarab made an uncomfortable chirping sound. He head swirled. He... he felt pathetic for feeling this way, but... he didn't feel he deserved it.

Not after this long...

"...It's... complicated."

Prismo hummed, rubbing Scarab's back softly. "...Would you want to make a wish?"

"...I don't know. I..."

Scarab sat up, sighing softly. Prismo followed him up, cupping his cheek reassuringly.

"...For... for the longest time, I had... convinced myself I didn't deserve it..."

"...Deserve what, Lovebug?"

Scarab nuzzled into Prismo's hand as he sighed.

"...My wings and antenna."

Prismo nodded in solum understanding.

"I... I spent so long convincing myself that I deserved what happened to me. That... I broke the rules, so it was the natural and deserved outcome. I used... so much reasoning to try and make it stick. That... that it was better that that had happened, since no one liked bugs. So, the less I looked like a bug, the better... I told myself if I couldn't remember the homeland, who was I to demand my heritage back. I told myself it made me stronger..."

Scarab blinked a few times, willing away the tears.

"But... Glob, Prismo, you've been tearing it all down. You made me realize how... terrible what happened to me was. You like my... less conventional features. You made me remember my home more in the past year than in the last hundred thousand. But..."

"But?"

"But... I don't want to... erase what happened. As much as I hate it, it shaped me into the person I am now. And that's the person who loves you, who has this life. If I knew this was waiting for me at the end, I'd do it all over again."

Prismo nodded, pulling Scarab into a soft hug. "...Regardless of the decision you make... If you want to make a wish, I would be honored to grant it for you."

Prismo kissed his neck, making Scarab chirp happily. He purred for a long time, taking the moment to think. To process.

"Prismo."

Scarab sat up, looking the Wishmaster in the eye.

"I wish... without altering my history, and without depriving anyone else of their body or body parts... to restore my wings and antenna in a way I can control, dismiss, and alter."

Prismo seemed to take a moment to think. Then he smiled.

"Wish granted."

Scarab felt his back tingle. His head itch. The torn ends of his wings felt... ticklish almost. The beetle took a moment to examine the feeling, taking a few steps back from Prismo to kneel.

"Go for it, Scarab. You can do it."

Scarab still hesitated. He'd never felt more scared to open his elytra, not ever since his wings were taken from him.

"You deserve it, Lovebug."

Scarab took a deep breath and let his shell open.

He felt something whoosh across his back. He kept his eyes frozen to the ground. There was something... strange on his back, a strange... heavy weightlessness? He didn't even know if that made sense, but that was the best way the could describe it.

"Lovebug... Look."

Prismo sounded in awe. That probably a good sign, yes?

He turned his head, slowly.

And he felt breathless.

He could see where his real wings ended and these new ones began. They were detached almost, floating an inch or two off the tattered ends. He gave them an experimental flap, chittering in delight as the motion flowed nearly seamlessly.

They looked gorgeous. They weren't his wings, but that was okay with him. They reminded him a bit of the false wings he made for the Gala, with the hand and eye patterns, now with the addition of star motifs.

He took a moment to experiment. He could summon and dismiss them. His fingers could trace the edges, but phase through the membranes.

He took a long look at Prismo before bursting into happy sobs. The Wishmaster was quick to scoop him up and hold him close, running a gentle hand between the base of his wings.

"P-Prismo..."

"I know Lovebug. I know. They're so gorgeous. You're so gorgeous. I'm... sorry they're not attached, or that they don't look like yours but... I dunno, think of them like prosthetics."

"They're perfect, Prismo. You're perfect. Wait, hold on, I need to try something..."

Scarab followed the tingling itch on his head, feeling a ghostly pair of antenna uncurling over his head. Again, they didn't quite feel right, that same heavy weightlessness, but that didn't matter. What mattered was the smack in the face the smells of the Time Room hit him with. The perfume of the flowers, the vinegar of pickle brine, and...

Oh.

Oh.

That was Prismo's smell. Scarab dove his face right into Prismo's cheek, nuzzling, antenna finally able to card through his hair and touch his skin. And he could smell him, he could smell Prismo, a combination of spice and ozone, and he could smell himself all over the Wishmaster's skin.

There was something intoxicating about that, something that made Scarab not pick his head up again for quite a while. Prismo held him all the way through it, humming and rubbing.

"Prismo...?"

"Yeah, Lovebug?"

"...Thank you. For everything."

Prismo hugged him tightly.

"You can thank me" he started, kissing his neck and jaw sweetly, "by being mine. For the next eternity."

Scarab's face flushed blue, but he nodded eagerly.

"Yes. Yes, I am yours. You are mine. For the next eternity, my love."

Prismo nodded back. "For the next eternity."

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

They speak in legends, in tomes, in myths, of the Wishmasters.

At the beginning of it all, in the Age After Nothing, there emerged the one called the Wishmaster.

In the center of everything, in the center of nothing, there is the Time Room, domain of the Wishmasters.

In a place at the center of time, in a place where time cannot touch, there is the one called the Wishmaster.

It is a god of no equal. It is a god of many names, in many forms. But it is always the one called the Wishmaster.

And in this era, the one called Wishmaster is of two beings.

How one meets the Wishmasters may very. It takes something powerful, something capable of building a bridge into the void. But all require a piece of the Eternal Dream, for it is the Dream that is the threads of the Void. Objects with fragments of the Dream are the most reliable vector to crossing into the Void.

It is two beings one might be greeted with.

The Living Dream known as Prismo, and his protector The Star Auditor known as Scarab.

Prismo is always there. He is aloof, but a comfortable being. He is a creature of comfort, lounging in a self made sanctuary of pillows and blankets, surrounded by perfumes of the Dream Lilies hanging from above. Leaving him gifts of crystals and jewelry may earn you his favor, although even then, that is not given liberally.

The Time Room is his Domain. He can freely move between and from the walls, for the walls are at his command.

Scarab is a feature only on occasion. One should rejoice if they commune with the two Great Wishmasters. He is orderly, precise. One might think this sparks conflict between the two, but instead it brings harmony. He is a god of intimidating disposition, but reasonable if approached without fear. He is even less liberal with favor than the Almighty Prismo, but offerings of fruits and rare teas may give you a chance.

The Scarab and Prismo are protective of each other. When approaching, do not offend either. Do not disparage the other. They are a pair, equal in all things.

The Almighty Prismo and Scarab, the ones called Wishmasters, offer the same bargain to any who find his domain, his domain of the Time Room.

One wish, anything your heart desires, you may ask of him. And he will make it so.

But do beware, wish makers.

Realities may warp or split or merge, people and objects may shuffle through time and space, memories, lifetimes, erased or rewritten forever. But they will make it so.

For the Almighty Prismo is not cruel, he is a tricky one. For the Almighty Scarab is not deceptive, he is percise.

Any wish lacking detail, they will fill the gaps. And lapse in thinking, and forgotten factor, and unforeseen consequence, they shall consider. To those they favor, they may advise. To those they don't?

Well, you will receive what you wish for.

Whether or not you can live with that is not a trouble for the Almighty Prismo and Scarab.

They are the crossroads, the boundary, the space between it all.

If one is lucky, they might hear the song of the Wishmasters. One might bare witness to the great wings of the Almighty Scarab, as they two circle each other in a cosmic dance. Do not disturb them if you find this majesty. Consider yourself blessed, and listen to the strange song of the divine.

For this is the nature of the Wishmasters.

Mismatched, yet incomplete without each other.

Together for eternity.

Thus is the myth of the Wishmasters.

[mcyt-enthusiast]

MCYT incorrect quotes my beloved:

Tango: WHO ATE MY BREAD?!

Tango: I'M GOING TO K-

Zedaph: I did?

Tango: Kiss you and buy some more, you haven't been eating anything today Zedaph.

*walking away*

Zedaph:

Zedaph: He's gone Impulse.

Impulse, coming out the closet with bread stuffed in his mouth: Twankh uh!

Jimmy: I can do anything I put my mind to. I once figured out Joey's phone number just by choosing random numbers.

Lizzie: Joel likes to win. When he was 8, a little Club Scout friend of his bragged that they could sell the most cookies.

Lizzie: Damned if Joel didn't walk the neighborhood till he got blisters on his feet, and won by 10 boxes.

Lizzie: Best part is, Joel wasn't even a Club Scout.

BDubs: What's the straightest thing you've ever done?

Etho: *sighs*

Etho: I killed a man.

Doc: You either buckle down and do your work or you'll end up at McDonalds.

BDubs: We're going to McDonalds if I don't do my work?

Doc: NO-

Doc: So are you gonna explain how the hell you crashed my car?

Grian: Well we were driving and there was a deer in the road, so I said "Scar, deer!"

Doc: ...And what did Scar do?

Grian: ...He said "Yes, Honey?"

Scott: I don't want to fight you!

Jimmy: I wouldn't want you to fight me either!

Teacher: Your child was in a fight.

Scar: Oh no, that's terrible!

Grian: Did they win?

Shelby: So, are you two friends?

Joey: Yes.

Katherine: No.

Jimmy: I'm in love with you.

Scott: We called off the prank war last night at midnight, dork.

Jimmy: I know.

Scott: Ah. Okay. Um. Cool. Neat. Very cool. Cool. Cool. Coolcoolcool-

Oli: Can I offer you a nice stick in this trying time?

Shelby: Ooh, somebody has a crush

Jimmy: Pfft, I don't have a crush on Scott I just think he's cool, it's not like I stay up at night thinking about him.

*Later that night*

Jimmy, very much awake: Uh oh.

Jimmy: Where is Tango?

Etho: I'll do you one better, who is Tango??

Scott: Here's a better question, why is Tango?

Xisuma: Y'know, maybe things aren't so bad. I'm here. I got the nice ocean breeze. Just alone with my thoughts.

Grian: Hey, Xisuma.

Xisuma: GODDAMNIT!

Mumbo: Did it hurt when you fell-

Grian: From heaven? Wow, I didn't think you were such a flirt-

Mumbo: No, I meant when you fell down the stairs.

Grian: ...

Mumbo: You just laid there for 15 minutes.

Tango: What's your biggest fear?

Mumbo: That I'll never be good enough for anyone.

Scar: Everyone hates me and talks about me behind my back.

Grian: Zombies.

Mumbo: ...

Scar: ...

Grian: BUT they can open doors.

BDubs, rushing into the room: It's terrible, just terrible! I am so upset!

Impulse: BDubs, honey, sit down! Sweetheart, tell us all about it. Etho, would you get BDubs some water?

Etho: What is he gonna do with water? Has water ever made you feel better when you were upset? Have you ever heard anyone say, "Thank God, the water's here!"?

Tango: Jimmy likes to say 'you can be part of the problem or part of the solution,' but I happen to believe you can be both.

Ren: Where are you going?

Etho: Hell, eventually.

Lizzie: *Talking to Joel* Oh, hi. I didn't see you there. Welcome to my abode. I'm glad you could join me.

FWhip: But this is my abode.

Lizzie: ...

Lizzie: Welcome to my abode, I'm so happy to have you, guest.

Impulse: I think we can all agree I'm the ten amongst these threes.

Jimmy, very tired: Can I sleep in your bed?

Scott: *half asleep* Jimmy, this is a queen-sized bed. That means it's for *gestures vaguely to himself* queens.

BigB: Hey Cleo, can you give me the opposite of these words?

BigB: Always, Coming, From, Take, Me, Down.

Cleo: Never, Going, To, Give, You-

Cleo: The satisfaction.

Martyn: The next time I open up to someone, it'll be my autopsy.

Martyn: Hey, do you know the password to Cleo's computer?

Scott: Screw you, Martyn.

Martyn: Hey!!

Scott: No, you misunderstood, the password is "screwyouMartyn".

Martyn: Oh, no numbers? Not very safe.

Pearl: Real life should have a search function, or something.

Pearl: I need my socks.

FWhip: So you like cats?

Sausage: Yeah.

FWhip: *tries to impress him by slowly pushing a glass off the table*

FWhip: My life is a little too much panic and not enough disco.

Scott: My life is a little too much fall and not enough boy.

Jimmy: My life is a little too much chemical and not enough romance.

Oli: My life is a little too much imagination and not nearly enough dragons.

Doc, about Etho: He's speaking some kind of French.

Ren: Let me handle it. I speak Spanish. It's the same thing.

Impulse: You call yourself my soulmate, but where were you when my meme only had four likes?

Tango: Making four accounts.

Impulse, tearing up: Really...?

Jimmy: *yawns*

Scott: Yeah, being that pretty must be tiring.

Jimmy: Then you must be exhuasted.

Joey: Will you two shut up? Some of us are lonely.

Scar, to Mumbo: If BDubs doesn't say "I'm King of the world" within an hour on that boat, I will give you my next pay check.

BDubs, within 5 minutes of getting on the boat: I'M KING OF THE WORLD!!!

Lizzie: Joel annoyed me today so I told him that I can't wait to see what he has planned for our special day tomorrow.

Gem: There is nothing special about tomorrow.

Lizzie: But there is something special about watching the color leave his face as panic takes over.

[mlmxreader]

The Other Changretta | Alfie Solomons x m!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ "You can start by trying to get closer to me - I don't bite" ❞

: ̗̀➛ Alfie knows its wrong, but he can't help but to find himself drawn to Luca Changretta's brother.

: ̗̀➛ swearing, flirting

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

As the adopted brother of Luca Changretta, him and Angel made sure that you grew up learning the same things about the family business that they did; you and Luca were closer, mostly because he wanted you to take over after him, partially because you were good at charming people as well.

You could hold negotiations and always walk away with more than what you were meant to; it came naturally to you, and Luca noticed from a young age that you had a lot of potential.

But years later, that potential came in handy.

Camden wasn't as bad as he had made it sound, and when you sat down in the office, you couldn't help but to smile at the man across from you; heavily tattooed, he had a sadness to his eyes that you had only seen on the frontlines during the war, and you knew it well.

He tried to hide it with his beard and his hat tilted slightly forward to keep the light from his eyes, but you still managed to find it easily. You leaned back, clearing your throat as you sighed and dared to pull the folder from your pocket, tossing it onto his desk.

"My brother sends his regards," you started, "and hopes that you'll accept his apologies for not being here. He had to tend to our father."

He nodded slowly, looking you up and down and humming softly. "So he sent you?"

"I can assure you, Mister Solomons," you started, "my brother wouldn't have sent me if he didn't trust me."

"Ain't that," Solomons mused. "You ain't arrogant like he is. My boys told me you went 'round fuckin' shakin' their hands."

"You give as much respect to the King as you do his men," you told him with a curt nod. "Learned that in the war... why have enemies, when you can have friends, right?"

He smiled, raising his brows as he leaned back. "The war?"

"Yessir," you nodded curtly. "I fought in Doiran, and the Eastern Front."

"East?" Solomons scoffed. "With or against the ruskies?"

"Neither," you told him. "Heard what happened to them in Osowiec, but... that was the closest to them I ever got."

Solomons noddedly slowly, and you could tell that he was warming up slightly; a fellow war veteran, it was easier for him to understand. "And now you're here. Big ray of fuckin' sunshine."

"And now I'm here," you sighed. "You served, didn't you?"

"Western Front," he confirmed. "Somme."

"Right," you said softly. "Awful business, that was... look, Mister Solomons, I'll be honest - Luca doesn't think this is worth the time. He thinks you're full of shit and that you'll stab us in the back the second you get the chance."

"He's right."

"He is," you nodded. "But Luca's a sly fox. You let him into the hen house, and you're not gonna get any eggs, if you catch my drift? I get it, y'know, you're protecting your people - I admire it. My brother doesn't get it."

"Did he serve?"

"No, Sir," you shook your head. "He doesn't get it. He never will. You get into bed with him, you're fucked."

"So what?" Solomons asked with a quirked brow. "I get into bed with you?"

"I wouldn't say no," you hummed. "You're certainly handsome enough."

He licked his lips as he grinned. At least you were honest and you got to the point, too many people tried to beat around the bush and flatter him - but you went straight for his throat, and you weren't going to let go any time soon. He nodded slowly, gesturing for you to get closer.

"Alright, Mister Changretta," he agreed. "I'll get into bed with you."

You smiled, raising your brows. "Tell me where to begin."

"You can start by trying to get closer to me - I don't bite," Solomons smiled. "You can bite as much as you like, though."

"I'd leave my mark on you," you whispered, moving your chair around so that you were sat right next to him, his knee pressed against yours.

"I wouldn't complain," Solomons murmured. "You ain't at all like the other cunts who walk in here, y'know."

"I'm not like anyone you've ever met," you whispered. "I can promise you that, Mister Solomons."

Pulling you onto his lap, he hummed as he let you settle your weight against him. "It's Alfie. No need for fuckin' formalities now."

"Alfie," you whispered, running your hands up and down his chest. "Alfred?"

"Only my mum calls me that," he chuckled. "Tell me - how long you in Camden for?"

You sighed as you tried to think. "I gotta be back to my brothers on the sixth."

"Two weeks," Alfie murmured. "I'm sure we can get to know each other more than well enough to decide on a deal to keep your fuckin' brother's mouth shut - can't we?"

"Absolutelty," you agreed. "Two weeks, we'll have plenty of time to negotiate."

Alfie couldn't place his finger on it, in all honesty; maybe it was the way you actually understood what had happened during the war, maybe it was just your looks and your honesty.

But he hated the thought of sending you away once the meeting had concluded; he wanted to know you better, he wanted to know more about the real you - not the business side. He licked his lips, chewing at the inside of his lip. He knew someone like you during the war, confident and suave, smart and quick... maybe that's what it was.

"Alright," Alfie started, "on your way out, go an' see Ollie. He's gonna give you my home address. Be there by eight tonight, yeah?"

"A social call?" You grinned. "Already?"

"Yeah, well, call it fuckin' soldier's intuition, but I have a feelin' you're a lot more than just a fuckin' Changretta," he told you. "My mum says to trust my gut, so... eight sharp, yeah?"

You nodded. "Eight o'clock sharp. I'll be there."

"Atta boy." He praised, having no clue of the fluttering feeling those two words invoked in your stomach.