#i need to put him in a box and shake him violently

[lwiann]

Ik gorts attractiveness is like controversial but i never found him ugly like most people do and i was just neutral to him for the longest time bc i felt like act 3 was lacking over all anyway, but thats a different topic. Although now that I think about it, Im kinda glad he looks like that and I love his facial features. He's very fun to draw. I think he's very unconventionally attractive. I just wish it translated better to my art style because sometimes I look at it and im like... I could make him rougher. I'm learning though. Its difficult coming from 2 years of genshin art to suddenly realistic faces with wrinkles and all 😂

[franken-loser]

I was gonna make a more thought out post with lots more pictures of Henry but good god hes so pretty HES SUCH A CUTIE I LOVE HIM SO MUCH,,,,,

[afewproblems]

The Holiday Party had gone quite smoothly, more than he was expecting if Steve was being honest with himself.

Until about halfway through, but that was pretty par for the course.

Jonathan had unearthed an old Rummoli Board from a box labeled 'Basement Misc', the Byers were still in the middle of unpacking from their move back to Hawkins, and brought it alongside a bottle of wine that Nancy had managed to smuggle from the Wheelers liquor cabinet.

Robin, who rode with Eddie and Argyle, brought pizza, the only copy of It's A Wonderful Life from Family Video, and way too much weed for just the six of them.

"It isn't a party without a little Kush Stevie," Eddie had told him, clapping his warm hand on Steve's shoulder, his thumb just high enough to rest on bare skin above the collar of his sweater.

All Steve could do was roll his eyes and take the pizzas, quickly ducking into the kitchen before Robin or, God Forbid, Eddie could comment on the pink flush that had taken over his face at the new nickname.

Robin had been insisting that Steve just tell Eddie how he felt for the last few weeks. Rip the bandaid off and come clean. What was the worst that could happen?

Which, really Robin?

Steve knows exactly what happens when someone puts themselves out there only for the other person to not feel the same way. His whole argument was currently sitting in his living room for fucks sake.

Sure, Steve and Nancy were on better terms now, but it also took two years to get there, and even still, there was a weird tension when they found themselves alone together.

So, no, telling Eddie was not an option, Robin.

Steve could keep it together. He could deal with the ache in his chest at the sight of Eddie's smile. Steve could deal with the way his heart beat quickened whenever Eddie said his name. He could deal with the heady flush that bloomed every time Eddie touched him.

He was fine, it was fine.

And, movie nights like these were nothing new in the wake of Vecnas defeat and the destruction of the Upside Down. Steve needed to keep it together if he wanted to continue to have this. Nights without the kids to look after or the adults to hide their indulgences from, these were the nights where they could truly relax.

These were Steve's favourite, and he was not going to let some Bullshit feelings stand in the way of being able to see Eddie.

This Christmas Eve found the six of them lounging on pillows and extra couch cushions from the basement to make the 'best movie watching set-up thank you very much', according to Robin, and watching It's a Wonderful Life for the umpteenth time.

"I can't believe that George Bailey would wish for something like that, when it's so obvious that people care about him," Robin scoffs at the top of her voice about halfway through the movie, prompting a irritated Shush from Nancy.

"That bro is depressed man, it's like a cry for help, and on Christmas, this shit is heavy dude," Argyle hums, lifting his fist up to Robin who shakes it with a wild grin. The two erupt into violent giggles which begin to creep into Steve and Eddie and eventually Jonathan as well. Nancy rolls her eyes but can't help the smile that takes over her face as well.

"Who would wish to never be born when you could just wish for the bank to like, not fuck you over, seems like a waste of a wish if you ask me," Eddie says as the last traces of giggles begin to finally disapate.

"Ooo, Eddie's right!" Robin says as she reaches for the remote, hitting pause on the movie. She waves her hands through the chorus of groans from everyone except Eddie who turns around to Steve with an incredulous expression on his face.

Steve shrugs as Robin continues, unable to look away from those large brown eyes until a hand darts out to smack him in the chest.

"Steve, pay attention," Robin huffs, "let's go around and share what we would wish for!"

Oh shit.

Steve turns on the couch to fully face Robin with narrowed eyes. She grins at him, lifting a single eyebrow as her blue eyes dart between Eddie and Steve.

Steve opens his mouth to argue, to insist that they just carry on with the movie, only for Eddie to drum his hands against his knees and speak.

"Oh birdie, I'm way ahead of you, this is Wayne's favorite Christmas movie so I've done a lot of thinking 'bout this".

Eddie clears his throat and lifts his hands from his knees now as though he's about to launch into a story for Hellfire, "I would personally wish for the money to be able to fund Corroded Coffin full time, get a demo done, and then be able to kiss this fucking one horse town good bye!"

Steve feels the words hit him like a bucket of cold water.

Eddie wants to leave Hawkins.

His wish, his dream, for forever from the sounds of it, is to leave them all behind.

To leave Steve behind.

The voices from the group, pitched high and low, all blend together into one as the rest of the group share their own wishes.

Steve absently feels a small hand grip his own, he looks up to see Robin staring at him, a worried frown pinched between her eyebrows. He answers her silent question with a shake of his head.

It was fine, he was fine. This was a good thing, better to know now than later when Eddie would inevitably leave him behind.

"Stevie?"

Steve startles as a ringed hand waves precariously close to his face. Eddie smiles faintly at him, one dimple on display as he speaks again.

"Kinda lost you for a second there, what about your wish?"

"Oh," he manages to say with a slight laugh in his voice, even as his brain fills with static, "um, I haven't ever really thought about it, maybe some new music or something".

Nancy and Jonathan both boo loudly from the love seat while Argyle nods with a hazy smile.

"Right on my man, sounds like Eddie'll be able to help when his band makes it big," he says before turning back to the television and slumping even more heavily into the couch.

Steve forces out another bright laugh, ignoring how much it burns his throat and crushes his chest. The only thing keeping him in his seat is the firm hold of Robin's hand on his own.

He doesn't look at Eddie as he leans forward to press play on the movie once more, letting the music and dialogue fill the room once more.

Later, as the end of the credits roll and the tape switches back to static, Nance and Jonathan are fast asleep. The pair are cuddled up on the love seat, their heads leaning against one another. It would almost be cute if not for the pang of envy that fills Steve at the sight.

Steve tries to bask in the warmth of having Robin cuddled into his side, knowing it will alleviate at least some of the ache in his chest. Robins eyes have been steadily growing heavier as she slowly falls further and further into Steves side. He smiles, reaching up to brush her hair away from her face.

At least he has Robin, and maybe for now that is enough.

***

This is a part one, let me know if anyone would like a part Two?

[writingjourney]

a message from the bulletin board | cardinal copia x gn!reader

summary: the ministry’s bulletin board, ordinarily used for missing items or party announcements, contains a particularly interesting request this week – a lonely hearts ad.

content: 9k words, gn!reader, slightly suggestive at times, first date/first kiss shenanigans, sad lonely awkward cardinal fluff, you know the drill

Masterlist – Ao3 link

You ignore the knot of people in front of the bulletin board.

As much as the whispers and giggles garner your attention, someone else attracts it even more. Cardinal Copia, red cassock, red biretta, arms filled with two boxes worth of files and papers, is trying to push the door to his office open with his hip under a swell of Italian curses. Certainly, his hip swing is impressive on most days, especially on stage, but today it seems more like a helpless, uncoordinated bumping that the door is fighting with every ounce of its wooden strength.

Evidently, he’s struggling.

“Good morning, Cardinal, do you need a hand?”

His eyebrows shoot up when he hears your voice and he stops dead in his tracks, slowly turning his head until he catches you standing right behind him. Despite your announcement, he visibly startles, nearly dropping the boxes in his arms.

“Oh, eh… yes, if you could open the door for me, Sibling?”

“Of course.”

With your hand on the knob, you watch as he hurries inside of his office, wheezing under the weight and dropping the boxes onto his desk with a dull thud that echoes loudly in his mostly bare working space. Apart from books upon books strewn across and around his desk as well as an old weathered couch, there hasn’t been any love put into decorating the space. You wait patiently for him to turn back around to you, a hint of red dusting his cheeks when he finally does.

“Thank you,” he squeezes out, trying very hard to swallow his heavy exhales. “I carried them here all the way from the archives. Long way, you know, even for my…” He holds up his arm, flexing it exaggeratedly. “My strong, powerful muscles.”

You giggle and he perks up in delight, eyes wide and shiny. “No problem, Cardinal, I can imagine they’re very heavy.” 

You smile at him and he smiles back, so sweetly, and you’re momentarily at an equal loss for words. A bead of sweat rolls down his forehead, down the prominent bridge of his nose. He brushes it away with a leather-gloved hand and you can’t help but stare as he wipes it clean on the heavy fabric of his vestments, shaking out his fingers once he’s done. You can’t look away as they flex and release, flex and release. They’re surprisingly long and so… nimble.

Copia’s violent cough startles you awake and you’re not sure if it’s his own nerves that make him clear his throat, if his overexerted lungs are protesting or if he caught you staring. Either way, you feel your own cheeks getting hot now, the moment of hesitant silence slowly transitioning into a gooey sort of awkwardness.

“So, ugh… I better get back to my own duties,” you say. “Lots to do, spring cleaning and all that.”

He nods. “Yes, yes, you are busy, of course. Such a busy little bee. Bzz bzz. Hehe.”

You awkwardly giggle back, trying hard to think of a clever joke. Maybe something that has to do with stinging? But before you can settle on one, the time for a witty come-back has stretched thin and so you just awkwardly wave at him, mutter a “see you later” and close the door.

With your back pressed to the wood, you let out a deep exhale, the butterflies – or bees – in your stomach making it very hard to breathe at a normal pace. Once you’ve recollected your wits, you notice that the hallway is still as busy as before, maybe even busier.

Like lions gathering around an animal carcass after days of starvation, what feels like half the abbey has been flocking to the big rectangular corkboard. You cannot possibly imagine what would warrant such intense interest. The most exciting messages on any given day are unusual sex requests, the invitation to a weirdly themed party or a call for applications to a particularly intricate sex ritual to honour the Dark One.

You push through the crowd to check what’s causing the repeated giggling and excited whispers amongst your peers when you spot a pristine piece of paper on the board. It’s thick, stark-white, shaped like a heart at the top and with pieces to rip off at the bottom that contain a phone number. You squint, move in even closer until you can make out the text – hand-written and in cursive.

I (m, 50) am looking for a partner to spend the rest of my life with. I don’t have any preferences but it would be coolio if we had similar interests, so we can have some fun together.

I like: watching movies, playing video games, going on walks, rigatoni, juice, small animals

I don’t like: coconut flavour, being barefoot, swimming, touching wet dishes, bullies, dentist appointments

If you think we are a good match I would like to take you on a romantic date. Please call or text me.  Bye bye!

You smile at the note but quickly find back down to earth when someone rams their elbow into your side. No one has taken one of the numbers yet, so you assume the excitement is more about the fact that there is a lonely hearts ad on the bulletin board at all than any actual interest in the person. You have to admit, it is a bit odd. Most younger clergy members just use dating apps these days or social media. But the lonely heart in question is fifty, so they may not be familiar with modern methods, and it’s oddly endearing that anyone would go through the trouble of creating such an ad. At the same time, it breaks your heart that someone in the abbey is so lonely that they risk the ridicule of half of the clergy members just to have a chance at finding love.

“Well, there are a bunch of people who it could be,” you overhear someone say. “Maybe one of the older Brothers, a bunch of them are single. Could also be that new bishop who just arrived, I heard he’s a cinephile and walks around the gardens quite often.”

You ignore the whispers of speculation, making your way back through the crowd to return to your duties. It’s almost dinner time by now and you need to get two more loads of laundry done before then. But even as you sort through piles of habits, cassocks and veils… you can’t stop thinking about the ad. You sincerely hope the person receives a few serious and not just prank calls. The note did sound endearing and you definitely see similarities. At the same time you’re far too busy nursing your hopeless crush on the Cardinal to actually entertain the thought of dating someone else. 

You decide to check on the ad again tomorrow, see if anyone took a number, and if not, you could at least save it to your phone… just in case.

✦ �� ✦ 

Two birds land on his window sill, rubbing their beaks together in a kiss before happily chirping at each other. They’re in love, literal love birds, building a nest on the little protrusion in the wall right below his window. He’s been watching them occasionally, unreasonably envious, as they bring in twig after twig, ready to start their family. From the same window, Copia can make out the spring-filled gardens with their colourful patches of pink and red tulips, bumblebees hurrying from blossom to blossom, drunk on pollen and greedy for more. He can overlook the bright green meadow leading down to the pond, speckled with lush, budding trees. At this time of the day, after everyone finished their daily duties, the grass has almost completely disappeared under a plethora of picnic blankets.

Spring fever, he assumes, has to be the reason why everyone seems to be in love. Couples dozing in each other’s arms in the shade of the trees, feeding their lovers berries or grapes, taking a stroll down to the pond with their joined hands dangling between them, kissing without pause in the archways of the cool stone walkways leading outside. Just now he spots two Sisters rubbing sunscreen on each other’s bare shoulders, one of them kissing the other's head before they fall back onto their blanket, giggling happily at each other.

He feels so incredibly lonely.

This has been going on for weeks now and he’s tired of feeling so shamefully worthless of affection. Instead of the arms of his lover, he sinks into his tattered old desk chair and drowns his sorrows in boring paperwork. Not that that’s going well, but for lack of alternatives, he’d rather do budget calculations than sit in his quarters all alone. Every evening, the spring breeze carries the sound of happy laughter through his windows, usually while he’s playing video games all by himself, but he can’t keep them closed if he doesn’t want to sweat to death. Besides… that same gentle breeze is the only thing caressing his skin as he tries to fall asleep at night and if he closes his eyes, the wind almost feels like fingertips ghosting over his arms.

As he leaves his office that night, he receives another heavy but sadly much expected blow. Almost a week now and still no one has taken one of the numbers from his lonely hearts ad. Of course it doesn’t mean no one saved it to his phone, he tells himself, people are shy or they just don’t want to date an anonymous person. It has nothing to do with him, they don’t even know it’s him. And yet… if his dating streak continues so poorly, he’s not sure if he can stay sane for much longer. There are only so many tears you can cry in bed at night before it starts to take a toll on you.

His heart is especially heavy as he makes his way to his lonely quarters. One more day and then he’s taking it down, he decides. No use in waiting any longer now that surely everyone in the abbey has seen his request and the last thing he wants are pity calls.

✦ ✧ ✦ 

“So, are you going to call the Cardinal?”

You look up from your breakfast plate. Your friend Lily is sitting opposite of you, chewing on a blueberry muffin, and you narrow your eyes at her. “The Cardinal?”

“The number in the lonely hearts ad,” she says. “It’s still there, I checked earlier.”

“It’s the Cardinal?”

She nods, popping another piece of muffin into her mouth. “Duh.”

You feel your cheeks heating up and set your fork down to hide the sudden tremor in your fingers. “Which Cardinal?”

She gives a soft groan of annoyance. “Babe, there is only one of the Cardinals who would ever hang up such a goofy thing. Now, will you call him?”

Copia. She knows about your… slight infatuation with him. And despite being kind and not teasing you too much, it was just a matter of time until the occasion popped up. If he is looking for a serious partner… maybe it’s too late for you soon. The ad has been up for days and while you’ve been toying with the idea of calling, you just haven’t found the courage yet.

You continue eating, trying to act casual, but it takes you three attempts to pick up a stray piece of cucumber from your plate. “How do you even know it’s his number?”

Lily takes a deep breath, setting the muffin down to ready herself. “Sooo, Michael wanted to call the number to check who it is, right? Well, turns out his girlfriend already knew it’s the Cardinal’s number and his girlfriend is Sister Jill who knows it from Sister Mary who is roommates with Sibling Jessie who works with the treasury and their colleague Brother Paul works as the Cardinal’s assistant two times a week and that’s how he has the Cardinal’s number for emergencies.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh. Now, will you?”

Eyes on your empty plate, you bite your lip until you can taste blood. It’s Copia’s number, the number of your crush of about six months now, and he’s looking for a partner, unspecified. That’s… big news, intimidating news, news that calls to an action you’re not sure you’re prepared for.

Glancing at Lily, you catch her smirking at you and promptly give her a scowl. “I don’t know. What if he already got better options?”

She cocks her head to the side. “Better than you? I doubt it.”

“You’re biased because you’re my friend.”

A shrug. “You should try. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“He could be disappointed.”

“He’s more disappointed if no one calls,” she counters.

“Yeah but–”

You stop yourself when you see Nora, Lily’s girlfriend, approaching the table. Her arms wrap around Lily from behind as she presses a loud, lingering kiss to her cheek, both of them giggling.

“You scared me,” Lily says, turning around for a proper kiss.

“Sorry, love, but I can’t leave breakfast without my sweet treat.”

You avert your gaze, involuntarily feeling like an intruder. They’ve been together for a few weeks now, sickeningly adorable. Lily had been pining after Nora for months, a little bit like you with the Cardinal, only that she eventually found the courage to ask her out. To see her bravery being rewarded like that makes you incredibly happy for both of them. But at the same time… you have rarely ever felt your loneliness so sharply, the heaviness of your unreciprocated crush such a weight on your shoulders.

You know that if you want this to be you and the Cardinal, then there’s only one real answer to her question: You have to reach out to him.

✦ ✧ ✦ 

He’s ready to toss this day into the trash bin already and he only just got up. 

Last night, after tossing and turning for hours, Copia fell asleep only to promptly land in a hysterically embarrassing dream that made him jolt up whimpering like a kicked dog and hiding his face in the pillow. Bringing himself close to suffocation, he finally realised that he had not actually stumbled right in front of you, spilling juice all over his robes, scrambling to get up only to slip in the puddle by his feet, falling onto his butt with a high-pitched cry. You had been standing there motionless, watching the spectacle unfold until you turned around to leave.

This is the reaction he would expect, should he ever actually find the courage to ask you out. However, this is highly doubtful, because upon walking to his office half an hour later, he catches you with a group of friends. He often sees you with them – attractive young Siblings, evident chemistry between all of you, and every week he suspects a different one to be in love with you. He recognizes the two Sisters he saw from his window earlier this week. One of them presses a loving kiss to the other’s cheek and he wishes he could just walk up to you and do the same.

His heart hurts. No matter how much kindness you extend to him, you’re a beautiful young soul who could never be romantically interested in an aging loner. Copia is not disliked per se, he gets along with pretty much everyone, but he struggles to build meaningful connections. Between working his butt off to satisfy the clergy and spending time on his mostly solitary hobbies, it’s hard to meet people. He had to actively put himself out there but neither online dating nor any of the singles’ events Terzo sent him on brought any results – only what the young Siblings call getting “ghosted” or “benched”.

His ad is his last chance. And even that failed miserably.

As he ponders his options, your eyes suddenly meet his and he swears you’re smiling. Then you lift your hand in a cautious wave. For a second, he’s too scared to wave back because there are people around him, all of which could be your target. Your hand sinks after a moment as your smile slowly straightens and he suddenly knows that you do mean him. He lifts his hand far too excitedly in a reciprocative wave. Your smile returns, a shy one, but before he can even think about possibly approaching you, his knees suddenly give out.

No, they don’t give out, someone rams a trolly filled with supplies for Black Mass into him. Some of the tall candles roll off the top and clatter to the floor, breaking in half just like his dignity. 

“Oops, sorry, Cardinal,” the Sibling says, scrambling to help him up. “It’s so hard to steer this thing.”

“It’s fine,” he chokes out, the pain in his knees anything but fine. “It happens.”

“I’m truly so sorry.”

He smiles, a hand on their shoulder now that he’s on his feet again. “It is okay, eh? No worries.”

When his eyes try to find you again, you’re not there anymore and he can’t decide if he’s relieved or sad. He prays to Satan that you didn’t see him fall but there is no way you missed it. His dream, if slightly watered-down, did come true after all and perhaps now you won’t want to–

“Cardinal, are you alright?” 

Copia, still dizzy and skittish, spins around so hard he nearly stumbles again. He smooths out his now crumpled cassock, the dust he collected on the floor even more visible on today’s black vestments. In an attempt to retain his dignity, he straightens his spine and looks right into your beautiful eyes. You have a tendency to startle him like that and he wishes he could be more smooth about these encounters.

“Yes, yes, Sibling, thank you. It was… it was nothing, just a little stumble, eh?”

“Are you sure?” You inspect him from head to toe, your brow creased in concern. “It looked painful. Your knees…”

“Oh, my knees are fine!” he lies. “I kneel all the time, Sibling. You know this.” Your eyes widen and he continues to stammer. “I mean in prayer. I pray a lot. On my knees. I am a Cardinal, yes? It’s my job.”

 You nod heavily. “Yes, of course.”

“So, ugh… I better just fuck off.” He presses his lips together to keep more silly words from coming out. “I mean I’ll go back to work. ”

As he tries to leave, your hand shoots up, squeezing the muscles in his forearm. He’s not as much startled as enthralled by your touch, so unexpected that he has no time to feel insecure but so welcome that it almost feels natural to have your fingers on his arm. He swears there is a hint of nervousness in your eyes now and despite knowing it’s silly, his heart wants to interpret it as bashfulness.

“Cardinal, please. I… ugh…” 

You look beautiful from up close. Even if you weren’t stuttering he’d have a hard time listening to your words. It seems like you stopped breathing, your cheeks now a sweet shade of rosy, and you open your mouth to speak but no words come out. Eventually, you shake your head and run your fingers over the fabric of his sleeve. He thinks he’s about to pass out, his nerves rising until he can feel his heartbeat all the way up to his neck. Your hand is so gentle, so… affectionate.

“I’m sorry, Cardinal. I don’t mean to keep you. I was just thinking that I really like the black cassock. It suits you.”

A compliment. His mind is racing. This is not what you really wanted to say, he can tell, but he grins anyway. You like his cassock? Well, you should wait until you see him in a suit. Maybe on a date. He should ask, he realises. This is the moment he’s been waiting for for months now. But as he continues to stare at you his tongue becomes too heavy to form the words, and then your hand is suddenly gone and takes his courage right with it.

“Thank you, Sibling,” he says instead. “I also really like your ugh… your outfit.”

Only when the words leave his mouth does he realise it’s the same everyday habit you’re wearing all the time. Somehow, the silly compliment still manages to conjure a smile onto your face and so he stops berating himself because he made you smile. The sight stuns him, butterflies erupting in his already nervous stomach.

“I’ll see you later, Cardinal,” you say then, your eyes leaving his to glance down the hallway where your friends are waiting, beckoning for you to hurry.

Copia nods and he looks down at your hand in silent fascination, staring at your fingers that are dangling by your thigh without any use as if he could magically make them touch his arm again. “Yes, yes. See you,” he mumbles. “Bye bye.”

When he looks back up, you’re already hurrying off. Copia stays frozen, his gaze trailing after you as though his eyes are glued to your form. Even when you’re out of sight it takes him a while to start moving, to start breathing again.

Around him, the hallway slowly empties as everyone starts to tend to their respective duties. Copia can’t help but feel the nagging disappointment about not asking you out. A chance like this won’t suddenly appear again and even if you refused him it would still be less humiliating than the untouched ad at the bulletin board. He should take it off right now, he figures.

Only when he enters the hallway leading to his office, something looks off about the postings. He notices the change from the corner of his eye at first as he walks past the large corkboard. More party flyers have appeared, someone took down the “diamond butt plug set missing” request that had been hanging there since an orgy in the Siblings’ wing went wrong last month. Instead, Copia notices a large poster promoting condom usage that partly covers the request underneath. Which is how he recognises it.

His ad. 

And one of the numbers is missing.

Copia nearly lets out a loud squeal as realisation dawns on him like the gentle spring sun rising over the hills every morning, bringing warmth and happiness after a cold, dark night. It seems like Cupid finally answered his prayers, like Aphrodite found sweet mercy for him.

Someone took his number. Someone wants to reach out to him.

For the rest of the day, he feels like he swallowed a swarm of bees, staring at his phone like it’s going to light up any second. Which it could. He could receive the message or call that changes his life any second now. Any second. Any… any second.

Nothing happens. Not in the next hour, not in the next two hours. All day, in fact, his phone stays quiet. His initial happiness deflates like a balloon. As he heads towards his quarters that evening, he observes how everyone piles into the dining hall, their happy laughter and cheerful spirits spoiling his usually solid appetite. He hates the sour feeling of envy in his stomach but he can’t help but suspect that everyone conspired against him.

Copia decides to skip dinner in order to cry into a big bowl of gelato. His nightmare might not have come true but his brain tortures him with pictures of your smiling face instead, with the phantom feeling of your warm hand lingering on his arm, and he can’t help but feel crushed anyway. He’d sell his soul to come home to you, to eat with you, sit with you, watch silly movies with you, fall asleep with you in his arms and wake up with your smile as the first thing he gets to see every day. It becomes increasingly clear to him that every day he misses out on being with you is a day tragically lost.

If only he was brave enough to change that.

✦ ✧ ✦ 

You’ve been pacing your bedroom for the better part of the evening now, back and forth and back and forth to the point where you’re seriously concerned about wearing down your carpet. The day passed uneventfully apart from your encounter with Copia in the hallway where you made a complete fool of yourself. You would have loved to skip all of the unnecessary fuss of texting back and forth but you barely spoke more than two words to him before you chickened out. Surely, if his interest in you was romantic, he could just ask you out instead of advertising himself on a public corkboard?

In any case, you’ve been typing out messages for over an hour now, deleting every single one of them only to throw your phone onto the bed multiple times before picking it back up to risk another attempt.

The reason you haven’t given up yet is that Lily knows you have his number now. Last night, when you thought everyone was asleep, you snuck out of your dorm feeling like James Bond with your torch and black clothing, tiptoeing down the empty corridors of the abbey. You didn’t want anyone spreading any premature rumors but a part of you was hesitant to take one of the numbers at all. Even if you called him, it wasn’t certain that he’d want to go on a date with you.

Still, you ripped off one of the thumb-sized pieces of paper and headed back – only to promptly run into Lily as she snuck out to meet Nora. You’re never going to forget her self-satisfied grin as she spotted you with the crumpled number between your fingers.

Begging your creative juices to start flowing, you stare at the empty message box. Perhaps you should be funny. You wonder if he knows the Piña Colada song. It is about a lonely hearts ad after all and he’s a musician. You type and type, delete and retype until you end on a rough draft to show Lily when she gets home. But no, upon rethinking, the joke is too silly even for you and there’s probably a better way to phrase this–

“Hey, have you called him yet?”

You jump, your heart rate doubling in shock. Lily appears in the open doorway and her voice startles you so fiercely that you clutch your phone to your chest. To your utter horror, the swishing sound of a sent message reaches your ear as your palm connects with the touchscreen, and when you glance down, the bubble with your typed out message sits at the top of your chat history.

“Oh no,” you whisper.

“What?”

“I sent my stupid silly joke message to him.”

Lily picks your phone from your hands, reading the solitary message from the display. “Well, at least now you’ll know if he shares your weird sense of humour?”

You grasp her shoulder and release a deep, throaty groan. Her words don’t calm you in the slightest, if anything, they only make it worse.

✦ ✧ ✦ 

Driving Miss Daisy can’t distract him anymore.

Every two minutes Copia reaches for his phone to check for any missed texts or calls only to have the gapingly empty home screen staring back at him. He never figured out how to change the pre-set wallpaper. Perhaps he could try again when he has a cute couple picture of him and his future partner. The thought makes him smile. It’s one of many little things he would change – if they only called.

Despite putting it on vibrate, he doesn’t trust the device to inform him of any news. He even carried it to the toilet twice already, just in case something happens while he’s gone. His ice cream doesn’t satisfy him tonight, everything feels bland and devoid of flavour, but he refills his bowl anyway. One big spoon and a bit of spray cream… and as he walks back over to his bed, he realises that he should definitely check his phone again because this took way longer than two minutes.

Right as he pulls the device out his pocket, it vibrates violently in his hand. For a moment he is so shocked to see a message pop up that he throws it away. It lands on his bed, bouncing a few times, display still lit up with one new notification glaring at him from the centre of his screen.

He takes a deep breath. This is real. He got a message.

No, he can’t look at it, he’s going to lose his nerves. A few more deep inhales and slow exhales, then he can’t fight the suspension any longer. 

Hey, stranger :) You don’t like coconut, so you probably don’t like Piña Coladas, but maybe I’m still the love that you look for?  I would love to go on a date with you, if you are still looking for one. 

It takes him a second, then another one. The ice cream melts in his bowl as it sits forgotten on the floor next to his bed. Suddenly it clicks and he chuckles, in relief as well as amusement, thinking that he knows that song, that he gets the reference. That means this person is funny. They made a joke. He smiles to himself. A funny person wants to go on a date with him.

He types back, deleting, typing again. After five minutes, he comes up with a reply.

Hello, stranger! 👋🏼 I do not like Piña Coladas 🍹 but I have many better things to offer if you want to go on a picnic 🧺 with me tomorrow? I will bring food 🥪 and drinks 🧃 of course. Hopefully we do not get caught in the rain 💦😀

He thinks about how he could sign the message but then his nerves start to kick in. If he tells the person who he is, they may reconsider their choice to go out with him and that’s the last thing he wants. Even if the date doesn’t go well, he wants to try his best, so he shoots another message after the first: 

Oh. It will be a blind date, if that is okay with you?

The next minute is the longest of his life. An eternity passes. He thinks he might have stopped breathing with how tight his chest feels. That is, until his phone lights up and shows the same number again, wringing a deep sigh of relief from him.

That’s fine with me. Where do we meet?

The squeal he lets out vibrates in his chest and bounces off the walls.

He’s got a date. Finally.

✦ ✧ ✦ 

Copia hears his bad conscience somewhere in the back of his mind whispering that blocking the best spot in the gardens all day is selfish. Perhaps it is true, perhaps he feels a little selfish today. And yes, besides feeling selfish he also feels a little guilty. Is it fair to go on a date when he has such a horrible crush on someone else? No. No, it’s not fair. But he can’t let another chance at love run through his fingers like sand on the beach. He simply has to grasp this opportunity.

His red-checked blanket lays untouched underneath the tall chestnut tree, its big, hand-shaped leaves rustling in the soft breeze as he approaches. The head of a rat is stitched into all four corners  of the fabric – a gift from Sister for his latest birthday – and it’s been sitting here since nine o’clock when he took the liberty of… reserving… the spot. He picked the north-side of the tree so that the shade falls exactly where he’s going to be sitting with his date in approximately fifteen minutes. If they prefer the sun, he can just pull the blanket over a little, but he’d never forgive himself if they got sunburn because of him.

Copia took the day off, his first day off all year in fact, risking his next employee of the month award to spend all morning in town, running errands. With the end of May and strawberry season starting, he visited every grocery store within walking distance to find the ripest, juiciest ones they offered. He was lucky enough to obtain a small basket filled with the most delicious-looking red fruits and some additional fresh ingredients for his sandwiches. While he was quick-witted enough to ask about his date’s allergies yesterday, he completely forgot to ask them about their favorite snacks and so he’s decided to just bring anything he could think of that wouldn’t melt in the sun.

The basket he packed feels heavy in his hand for that exact reason and when he sets it down on the blanket, he can feel the strain in his arm. The past hour was spent obsessing over his outfit until he decided to just go for the white suit combo. Yes, white fabric near grass and juicy red fruits is not the most brilliant idea, but he wants to look his best and that means going the extra mile, even if he has to wear the tiny, itchy underwear underneath.

His heartbeat is going a mile a minute now. He can’t unpack yet, he doesn’t want the food to be out for too long, and so he sits and waits, his hands sweaty under his black and white leather gloves. The fact that the gardens around him slowly become crowded as the afternoon rolls around does nothing for his nerves. He can feel the curious glances, can hear the hushed whispers, and as the hour nears, he starts sweating even more despite the shade. If the unanswered ad had been embarrassing, being stood up so publicly would be even worse. 

And then the most horrifying thing ever happens.

Copia sees you walking along the path, wearing a weather-appropriate, slightly dressed-up outfit that makes his eyes involuntarily roam your whole form. But he can’t fully focus on your loveliness. At first, he’s panicking that you’re meeting your friends somewhere close by where you could see him with his date. He would be so embarrassed, so distracted, so uncomfortable. But you walk straight towards him and that’s even worse. If he has to tell you that he’s busy meeting someone else he might spontaneously combust, explode into tiny particles of humiliation. It would ruin everything, his date and his crush on you. What if his date shows up and sees you with him? What if–

Oh no, you don’t stop approaching, you don’t take a turn, you walk up straight to where he’s waiting – with a hint of hesitation, yes, but very directed steps. Copia jumps up immediately, his black hat nearly falling from his head.

“Oh, Sibling,” he stammers, lifting a trembling hand to adjust his fedora. “Hello, hi. Are you spending some time outside today as well?”

Your mouth opens and you wring your hands before hiding them behind your back. “Hello, Cardinal. I ugh… I’m supposed to meet someone here under the chestnut tree.”

Copia furrows his brow, slowly registering your words. “Meet someone. Under the chestnut tree.” 

“Yes.”

“Oh, Satan. It’s you?” He stops, stares, comprehends. He sounds incredulous, his voice a higher pitch than usual. “You’re my stranger?”

You nod, big eyes staring into his mismatched ones in silent expectation, hope and fear muddled together in the crease of your brow. He doesn’t know how to react, just rubs his thumb and index finger together as his mind races faster than speed limit.

“Is this… is this bad?” you finally ask, breaking the awkward silence.

“No!” Copia exclaims. “No, no, no. Please, please sit.”

You do, kneeling down on the blanket a little hesitantly. Copia joins you, still not fully trusting his senses. This feels like a hallucination. His disbelief has to be the only reason he hasn’t passed out yet. Is he really on a date with you right now?

After another moment of silence, Copia notices you eyeing the basket and snaps back into reality. His plans, his very detailed plans for how this date is supposed to go, flood his mind and he remembers the first step now. Swallowing his shock, he sits up a little straighter.

“Ah, eh… yes, I got you something.” He reaches behind the basket and procures three deep red roses he stole from Primo’s rose garden on the way here. Their intense smell hits his nose as he whips them past his face and hands them over. “These are for you. I hope you like roses. I know it is a bit cliché but also a classic, no?”

“I love them,” you assure him, holding them up to your nose with a smile. “Thank you, they’re beautiful.”

He smiles. “Good, good. Yes. So… I thought about what we could do and–”

“Cardinal,” you interrupt then. 

“Oh, no. No, call me Copia. Please.” He gives you a shaky smile. “We’re on a date, no?”

“Copia,” you try but feeling his name on your tongue doesn’t make you feel any better. Ever since getting here your bad conscience made it hard to fully settle into this date and with his visible distress upon discovering it’s you, you feel like now is the time to address it. “Before… before we do this, I have a confession to make…” 

He hums and wriggles his eyebrows. “Oh, really? Well, I would love to see you in confession soon…”

You blush furiously. “Oh, no. No, that’s not what I meant.”

A flash of concern and you can practically see all of his insecurities mirrored in his eyes. You’re both tiptoeing around the same question, you assume, but it’s on you to take the plunge.

“What… what do you mean then?” he asks.

“About this date…” His lightheartedness completely disappears. You feel bad for ruining the mood but it’s too late now and you need to get it out, you owe him that much. “Copia… It wasn’t a blind date on my part. I… I knew it was you.”

“You knew it was me?” he asks and again his features change, eyes wide now. He really had no idea that people knew the ad was his and suddenly he feels like a fool.

“I’m so sorry, I should have been honest from the start.” You stare at his gloved hand but you’re too scared to take it. “I hope you can forgive me for keeping this from you.”

“You knew it was me and you still… you still wrote to me? You still came?”

You furrow your brow. “I didn’t tell you because then I would have had to admit that it’s me and I was scared that maybe you wouldn’t want to go anymore.”

“Me? Not… not…” He shakes his head so fast that his fedora once again threatens to fly off. “Oh, tesoro, I would have… I would have been on the moon with joy, as they say. Yes, yes, I would have.”

You don’t correct him. Instead, an insecure smile settles on your face. “You know you don’t have to say that, Copia, it’s okay if you were hoping for someone else… That’s the risk of going on a blind date, right?”

He yanks your hand out of your lap, wrapping it up in both of his gloved ones. “Tesoro, can I be very honest with you?”

You nod. “Of course you can. Always.”

“I was hoping it was you.”

Your breath catches and steals your next words. The same incredulity that hit him earlier now settles in your chest and you can’t find it in you to question him.

Copia immediately fills the silence. “I never… I never thought…” You watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down, a nervous swallow, before he wets his lips. “Tesoro, you were always very good to me. I always saw your kindness, you understand this, yes? Don’t get me wrong, I just… I never thought you were interested in me like this. In such a silly old man.”

You have to giggle through your nerves. “I love that you’re a silly old man.”

He smiles shyly. “You are very sweet, tesoro.”

“I’ve actually had this crush for a few months now,” you admit, encouraged by his positive reaction. “And I want you to know that when I saw your ad I thought about calling even before I knew it was you.”

His smile grows impossibly bigger at that. “Did you?”

A nod. Copia squeezes your hand, then brings it to his face for a kiss. You feel his wet lips on your skin and they’re so soft, so gentle. When he sets your hand back down you see a trace of black lipstick on its back and instantly feel warm and fuzzy inside.

“Should we start then?” he asks. “I brought a lot of things, let me show you.”

The basket opens to reveal a plethora of food and drink options. Copia sets down a foil-wrapped plate with sandwiches that look a little wonky so you assume he made them himself, then some juice boxes, apple and orange, a box of fresh, delicious-looking strawberries, two bottles of water, reusable plastic cups and plates. At last, he hands you one of many different muffins he must have stolen from the kitchens.

“For my dolcezza,” he says with a smile.

More heat spreads in your cheeks as you take the little treat from him with a thanks. You’re both visibly losing your nervousness now, your postures less cramped, stretching out your limbs on the blanket with your bodies angled towards each other.

“Maybe we should… talk a bit about us?” Copia proposes. “To get to know each other, sì? I would like to learn about you.”

“Oh, yes, that sounds good. Do you want to start?”

He thinks on a good starter question, the pressure clouding his thoughts for a moment but then his silence grows thick and he has to say something. “So, ugh… do you like Star Wars?”

This is not one of the questions on his list of conversation starters. For some reason, every single meaningful thought suddenly leaves him. Luckily, this simple, safe question seems to put you at ease and you relax even more.

“I do,” you say. “I watched all the movies.”

“Oh, good! And what is your favorite?”

You pluck a piece from your muffin, popping it into your mouth. “Hmm… The Empire Strikes Back, I think.”

“Hehehe, sì, sì, I am your daddy.” His eyes widen. “Not that I’m… I don’t mean… you know, the scene with Luke… ugh. So, anyway, yes, that is my favorite as well.”

You giggle and he lights up, smiling so hard that his cheeks hurt. You reach for one of the sandwiches then. Copia helps, holding the plate up for you.

“So, these are all inspired by Italian foods. I have ugh… caprese. Mozzarella and tomato?”

You reach for the one he showed you. “That sounds great, thank you.”

Copia can’t help but stare as he awaits your reaction. You hum in delight and immediately take another bite of the soft bread. Satisfied, Copia allows himself to grab one as well now. Conversation slows down as you eat but you continue to talk about your interests between bites, finding more and more similarities as the minutes pass. 

Your little spot is beautiful, cool enough to sit comfortably but warm enough to feel the reviving effects of spring. The leaves above you rustle every now and then, birds and bees flying past, the odd ant crawling over your blanket in search of some crumbs. Neither one of you is bothered as you sip on your juice boxes in tandem and intuitively increase your proximity.

With your bodies gravitating towards each other like that, you end up sitting very close after a while. Copia reclines against the tree trunk, pulling his hat down to grant him more shade, a little bit like a cowboy leaning against the walls of a saloon. His white suit is an odd contrast to his relaxed pose, not the most comfortable outfit to lounge in. Without thinking too much about it, he pulls you close to him and angles you so you can rest your head in his lap. 

You’re only tense for a short moment. Copia gets rid of his gloves and you can feel his bare fingers running over your scalp. The steady pattern he draws calms you and you sigh, closing your eyes for a few minutes as a warm feeling of safety spreads out in you.

Copia can’t help but stare. Despite the initial hiccup, you’re so comfortable around each other that he feels like he’s known you forever. This is a dream come true for him, all his fantasies, his wishes, his longings, they all seem to come together in the lovely face dozing in his lap. You’re the most stunning sight he ever had the pleasure to behold. Every line, every hair, every mole, blemish or scar combines into the most beautifully painted canvas – and to him, it’s perfect. You’re perfect.

“Do you want a strawberry, tesorino?” he asks then.

You open your sparkly eyes and they reflect a speck of sunlight breaking through the canopy. Blinking a few times, you shift in his lap to avoid being blinded. He tenses as your cheek narrowly misses his groin, but then you nod and he distracts himself by reaching for the box of strawberries. 

With careful fingers, he grabs one of the shiny heart-shaped fruits, making sure to touch the stem to avoid any stains, and then guides it to your mouth. He can’t help but stare as he sees your lips part for him, the tip of your tongue peeking out to welcome the sweetness. You sink your teeth into the red flesh, so eager, and spatters of juice stain your lips. They appear even more saturated as you lick them clean, wetting them with your tongue, and he so desperately wants to kiss you.

“They’re so sweet already,” you say, taking the rest of the fruit from his hand.

“Yes, I agree.”

You giggle. “Copia, you haven’t even tried one yet.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean the strawberries.”

You huff out a flustered breath, fighting the still evident smile on your face, and hold the half-eaten strawberry up to his mouth. “Try.”

He lets you feed him with burning cheeks, keeping his eyes locked on yours. As his teeth meet the flesh, a few droplets of juice fall astray but he doesn’t even care if they ruin his suit anymore. He can’t stop looking at you, thinking about your soft hand so close to his mouth. He wants to kiss it again, desperately, and so he traps it with his when you try to pull away. With his lips pressed to your palm, he closes his eyes, kissing all the way down to your wrist where he lingers.

You gasp softly, lips parting as Copia continues to drag his lips over the delicate skin. Your reaction brings a smirk to his face, another moment that he’s going to think about for days to come.

“I tried, dolcezza,” he says. “And I think you’re still sweeter.”

You blush so prettily at that. Flustering you is easier than he expected and he takes notes of every little thing that draws a reaction from you. You spend another hour like this, eating fruit, drinking juice, chatting about all sorts of things while you exchange soft touches and words of your blossoming affection. At some point, the gentle breeze that carries on throughout the afternoon becomes stronger, and more and more people head back inside to escape a possible weather change.

Neither one of you wants to leave but as you start to shiver more violently, Copia’s worry about you catching a cold wins over his desire to prolong your date. He proposes to head inside as well, running his hands over the goosebumps on your bare arms to warm you up.

When you reluctantly agree, he starts to pile your dishes and the leftover food into the basket. You move to help but he stops you with a tut. “I will pack this up, eh? Don’t worry about it.”

“I could help you, you know.”

“Ah, no no. I invited you, yes? It is my pleasure.”

It only takes him a few minutes to pack everything up. You grab your flowers in the meantime and he watches from the corner of his eye as you sniff them with a growing smile on your face, swaying slightly from left to right. As Copia shakes out the blanket, folding it messily in the middle, you hesitate by the edge of your little picnic spot.

“So, do you want to walk back together?” you ask.

Copia smiles, glad that you don’t want to leave him quite yet. “I would like that a lot, tesoro. Should I carry the roses for you?”

You hand them over and he places them on the lid of the basket before he carefully picks it up. When he’s by your side again, you stop him with a hand on his forearm, the same gentle squeeze you gave him the last time. Only this time you don’t leave. Instead you lean in and press a soft kiss to his reddened cheek, your lips lingering for a few seconds longer than necessary. Copia opens his mouth but he can’t think of anything to say. Instead he uses his unoccupied hand to fish for yours.

Hand in hand, palm against palm, you walk past the leftover groups of Siblings that make use of the last few moments of sun. Neither of you spares anyone else even a glance. Whenever your eyes aren’t focused on the path ahead, they meet each other, giddy, love-sick smiles gracing your lips.

As you finally pass the first archway and enter the cool stone corridors of the abbey, Copia suddenly stops. Your arms slowly extend as you take a few more steps but before your hand can slip from his, he pulls you back. Maybe he used a little bit too much force or maybe he just caught you by surprise, but you practically stumble into his arms. A gasp falls from your lips. You make no attempt at breaking away and so Copia gently guides you against the frame of the archway, setting down the basket in the process so he can place his other hand on your hip.

Big eyes look up into his. He leans in slowly. The rim of his hat catches the stone and it finally slips from his head, dropping somewhere. Copia doesn’t care because he can already feel your sweet strawberry breath on his lips and nothing could stop him from getting a taste. Your hands impatiently grab at his lapels, then, pulling him even closer, and he gasps at the force of your need. With your eyes falling closed, lips slightly parted and your chin tilted up, Copia feels like he’s in a dream.

“Please,” you whisper.

He has to fight a moan, the word resonating somewhere deep inside his belly. Still, he draws out  the moment for as long as he can, stalling as the tension crackles in the tiny space that separates you. He starts by nuzzling your nose while he pushes his hand upwards until he can grasp your jaw. As he angles your head just right, he feels your lashes fluttering against his cheeks. He fights off a giggle as they continue to tickle his skin and you shift slightly against him, growing impatient.

“Co–”

His mouth swallows your next syllable. You hum against him as his lips capture yours with gentle adoration. The grip on your waist tightens at the same time as his thumb presses into your cheek. Want, need, trickles into your belly and Copia feels the same way, moving his mouth against yours with slightly more pressure. The kiss is still slow, still tame, but it’s unmistakable how much stowed up desire for the other you both hold inside.

For a while you continue like this, your body trapped between Copia and the cool stone and the world around you a mere shadow. You open your mouth for air and that’s when you can feel his tongue cautiously pushing against yours. The sensation makes you feel even more fuzzy, the need for oxygen forgotten as you tangle your tongue with his. The taste is sweet, residues of fruit and juice, and underneath it all you feel Copia. Copia.

You only break away when you’re both struggling to keep up the pace. He’s a mess, his lipstick gone, black smears covering his chin and cheeks where his eye make-up rubbed off. You lift your hand to wipe some of your mingled spit off of his chin and the blissful expression on his face makes you smile. You love to see his face ruined like this, you decide. And Copia, seeing the lipstick-smears all over your kiss-swollen mouth, unknowingly thinks the same.

“We should do this again sometime,” you say. “The date but also… this. Actually, I think we should do it again right now.”

Copia chuckles, resting his forehead against yours. “How about we never stop doing it?”

You nod your approval, wrapping your arms around him to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. It’s soft, if a little bit sweaty, messy from the loss of his hat. “I would like that a lot, Copia.”

“I mean it, tesoro,” he whispers with a hint of insecurity. “I don’t want to stop spending time with you. Ever. We already wasted enough of it.”

A big smile breaks out on your face. Copia can’t help but return it, squeezing you a little tighter to his body, and you giggle happily as he kisses your nose.

“You’re right,” you finally say. “Let’s not waste another moment.”

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this silly little story – kudos, comments, rbs etc are as always much appreciated ♡

Masterlist – My Ao3

[unluckilyimnot]

HI YIRL

so I rlly wanted to ask (actually I’m craving it rn) if you could do a sae, shidou and kurona hc when what they would do/ how would they react if their s/o is rlly good (like REALLY good) at like soccer or any other sport (basketball, volleyball I don’t really mind so do wtv<3)

s/o who's really good at sport

0.5 | fluff

m.list | rules

Note: HIII thank you for your request!! I'm an hc girlie ask anything ! It really like this one hihi I hope you like it !

Sae + volley ball

he loves the fact that you’re good at sport too

he doesn’t know shit about volleyball but he will learn by himself to understand when he see you play

it doesn’t matter if you’re pro or not, he likes to come see you play 

don’t expect him to scream or whatever, but he tries to come every time 

he wants to know more about strategy or your position in the team (libero, setter, ect)

the more he learn about it, the happier he is

will make you dinner or bento according to your daily training 

he always knows what to do when you’re sore and can’t move because of the pain, but won’t do much for you because he’s in the same state 

or he would be annoying and tells you things like “you should’ve stretch better”

comment whenever he thinks you played well or not 

will try to help you do your best 

you two do cardio together 

running date

for fem body people, he’s really cautious if you’re on your period and tells you to be careful + give you pain killer along with your lunch

not your first fan bc your friends are way too extreme but he comes just after them <3

Shidou + boxing

wants to do it with you 

he LOVES when you show him new things you’ve learn or teach him 

he’s really good and you already told him to try out more but he loves soccer too much 

it’s simply a good date idea to him

he’s screaming the loudest he can during competition 

pretend to be you trainer sometimes to mess around

your number 1 fan 

likes to play fight with you 

he’s really dramatic, if you win at some point he will just lift you in the air and take a few turns

he loves to do basic sportif stuff with you 

i’m not sure he’s that careful about his diet but if you are, he’ll listen to you and it can be an excuse to spend time with you 

he likes coming with you for groceries 

his fav protein shake are vanilla flavor 

You always have to put an end to the fight he starts it

But if you're violent enough he'll end up being clingy bc you're hot

Kurona + basketball

he tries to make it to all of your matches 

he seems like a big fan of basketball, i think he follows NBA play closely beside football

first hype boy man, you never fell down with him

and if you do, he’ll cheer you up like nobody else can, even your team mate 

he always here to give you advices if you need 

but he also loves to hear your point about his training and how he can get better

i feel like your better at building your training than him so he likes to do it with you 

he would love to play with you sometimes, outside when the weather is fine with it is the best 

he’s kinda insecure if some people came along and they’re better than him but thats still not his sport so it’s fine 

as long as you enjoy it the fullest he’s the happiest 

if you’re pro and you have to go aboard to play he’s sad ngl, he misses you a lot

tries to call you everyday 

he’s the happiest honestly, he just likes being able to talk about sport freely whithout sounding nerdy

[niko-sasaki-dbd]

Can we just stop for a second and think about Charles attending his own funeral?

I can’t stop picturing him—still not used to being dead—playing a sickening version of hide and seek, just him and his fears. He’s still a kid, hidden in a dark corner, watching his mother’s tears shed over a casket that will shortly be buried six feet under. Rotting.

He is the uninvited guest, observing her from the shadows. He doesn’t find a trace of the silent tears in her eyes—the ones he had seen a thousand times before—but there’s desperation instead. A violent tremble shakes her shoulders, her sobs are stealing the air from her lungs. There’s pain running down her cheeks, the sort of torturing agony that can only be driven by guilt, and loss, and grief.

He sees people around, unknown voices trying to calm her down. He sees blurred faces, question marks, beating hearts but blind eyes. They don’t know anything about her, and they will never know anything about him.

He wants to get closer, but he doesn’t know how. He wants to never see her again. He wants to scream; he wants to tell her that he would have never chosen to leave her if he had been granted the choice. He wants her to look at him; he wants her to hold him as she’s holding onto that inert wooden box.

But she never will.

Just one more time, he looks at her intently.

“It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart.”

Just one more time, he takes one step closer.

“I promise…”

Just one more—

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Mr. Rowland.”

It's cold again. He retreats to the shadows and looks ahead. There's no one, not a single person, who shows less kindness than his own father.

He stays three steps away from his mother, with a hardened expression that never changes. They may think he's stoic, but Charles knows better; he is looking at him—at the lifeless body that once was him—with so much contained rage. It looks like home, the unwelcoming preamble to another beating, and Charles believes he is selfish for feeling relieved, for finding solace in his own death.

There is no one around to judge him for it, yet he still worries so much; he's safe, but somehow, he's still crying on the floor inside his mind, and the bruises keep blooming, and the pain feels so real.

"Charles?"

How can he explain that he wants to be alive, but he doesn't want his life back? It's just a plight he would rather avoid because he fears that if he keeps thinking about it, the water would come back, and this time, he wouldn't be able to find a way out. He would be trapped forever, fighting senselessly against the freezing cold, suffocating within the walls of his own nightmare.

Alone.

"Are you alright?"

He doesn't want to stay and haunt this place; he doesn't want to be remembered like this. He would rather pray for his mother to let him go, and for the violence to let go of her.

"Would you prefer me to wait for you outside?"

He doesn't want to feel fragile, he doesn't want to be useless, he doesn't want to be angry. He would rather bury his own aching body along with all his losses, but he would remember his father's eyes, just in case.

For now, he needs to put himself together because there's someone looking for him—hide and seek, but it's not scary anymore—maybe he will have to leave his hideout soon, but is it losing when you want to be found?

"No,"

Cold colors seem warmer when the light comes in.

Don't leave me.

"I'll go with you."

[mstigeress37-blog]

BOXER! RAFE CAMERON X READER

ＳＵＭ．Rafe is a boxer, but his pretty girlfriend hasn’t showed up to his match yet, so where is she?

Notes. Fem! Reader/ She/Her pronouns used, violent description, fanon rafe lol.

▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

Rafe was stressed.

It was his first time boxing in this particular ring in this particular place. He found the place with a bit of difficulty, driving wise, and since his girlfriend wasn’t here, he could only assume she had lost her way.

He bursts through the changing room door, eyes scanning for both his manager and his girlfriend, before setting them on Topper, his best friend.

“Yo, have you seen Y/N? She’s usually here by now.” He asks, scratching his recently buzzed hair after one of his fans tried to grab it post-fight.

Topper shakes his head, “Nah, man. I can go stand outside and keep a lookout for you, though?” He suggests. Rafe nods once, deep in thought and his eyebrows furrowed, before walking away, kissing his teeth and shaking his head in disappointment.

If she isn’t going to be here within the next hour, he’s gonna knock his opponent to the floor and keep hitting him until she shows up.

—————

The last time you didn’t/couldn’t make it to Rafe’s match was when you were grounded in High School after getting caught doing weed that Rafe gave you. You ended up having to sneak out with Sarah to bail him out. Sarah needed you since she knew Rafe was pissed and, as cheesy as it sounds, you the only person who was able to calm him down. Even thinking about the next that read, ‘Stuck in traffic! So sorry, baby!’ made him huff with anger.

But now, you’re adults. No ‘asking for permission but my dad said no’, no ‘You’re grounded so you can’t go.’ Nothing. Nada. So why was he behind the curtain doing the breathing technique you taught him all alone?

Rafe was pissed. Not at you, of course. But at the world. What cruel universe would keep you stuck in traffic? Or put the boxing ring so far away from you?

Before he could think anymore, he heard his name being introduced through the speakers, saw the curtains fly open, and started running to the ring, pissed as ever.

The two bump fists, and just before the ring goes off, Rafe can hear the man go, ‘missing your girlfriend, Rafe? D’y’need your mommyyyy?’ through his mouth guard, chuckling before hitting his own fists together.

The bell goes off, and it felt like permission to beat the ever living shit out of the pathetic excuse of a man in front of him.

Rafe pounces, his fists heavier than two seconds ago, and lands each punch to the other’s face and gut.

Some time passes, and his coach calls him over to his corner. Rafe has blood trickling down his nose and forehead. He feels like shit for a second before he glances over to his opponent and smirks, chuckling to himself.

He sits down, and through the music and loud cheering/booing, he hears you, and suddenly, his huffs are light-hearted and relieved exhales.

From the corner of his eye, he sees you pushing through, probably politely asking them to move, before you occasionally shout, ‘Rafe!’ And you don’t have to shout much or loudly, since Rafe’s head was turned the first time you yelled.

He sees your smile go wide as the two of you make eye contact before you glance to the side, looking at what Rafe did to his opponent.

The two guards let you past the gate that separates the ring and the audience since they know your face (since Rafe was shoving a picture of you in their faces asking if they had seen you despite their multiple ‘No!’s), and suddenly you’re running to Rafe’s corner, jumping up to hold onto the ropes.

“Rafe, baby! I’m so sorry, I got lost, then suddenly I was in traffic, then I was in the countryside?? I-I don’t know, but it’s okay, because-“

“-Because you’re here.” He finishes quietly. He doesn’t even need to raise his voice for you to hear him over all the clamouring of the audience and his team who are pouring water all over him.

“I don’t care if I landed in a cell again, because I knew you would have picked me up. I don’t care if they kicked me out of here, since I know you would get here eventually and give me a lecture as you took us home. I don’t care if you weren’t here before, because you’re here now.”

You feel emotional and give him a quick peck on the kiss, not knowing how much time he has left of his break. However, unsatisfied with such a small show of affection, he stands up from the stool, grabs your face, and kisses you lovingly.

“Alright, lover boy, get in there!!” His coach yells from his side. He pulls away gently, admires your face before giving you a quick peck on the nose, running back to the centre with a new found confidence and a swell of love in his heart.

You smile softly at the view of his back before his coach jumps down, helping you jump down too to sit at the chairs neatly lined up.

[yanderes-galore]

Axel My bloody valentine (Original) Romantic hcs :3

Idk why my drafts originally said Prompts for this... I got confused, Ig. Anyways, here's Axel. A bit out of season but... who cares, right? I did the Black Christmas one out of season too.

Yandere! Axel Palmer Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Murder, Blood, Graphic descriptions, Possessive behavior, Violence, Death, Stalking, Removal of human hearts, Forced relationship.

Axel is unhinged, yet it's also similar to a Scream situation based on what I've seen.

Axel is shown to be able to hide his unhinged behavior and act "normal".

There's some times he's violent however... like with T.J and Sarah.

Then of course there's the whole reveal of Axel being the murderer near the end of the film.

Due to watching his father be killed by Harry Warden, he soon deems himself the miner's successor.

It's in that moment at the end of the movie that we see him so unhinged.

Keeping this in mind, I can see Axel fooling his obsession easily as he picks people off.

Considering this is technically a "Valentine's Day" film and the last line Axel says in the movie... He'd see his obsession as his valentine.

He wants you as his partner... and he won't let anyone else change his mind.

Axel is pretty good at playing the double role, pretending to be a victim to win over his obsession's sympathy.

Meanwhile, he's a murderer who wants to kill anyone who gets too close to you.

Axel isn't afraid to get messy and obviously tends to use deception.

His whole thing is putting human hearts in chocolate boxes.

I'm not surprised he'd get himself bloody and gruesome when it comes to rivals.

He tends to use his pickaxe, but he's shown to use other methods.

Axel definitely tries to present himself as a caring boyfriend to you.

He's around you often, usually quite clingy as he nuzzles into your hair.

Axel wants to play his role well, you don't need to suspect a thing.

He'd be one to give you heart boxes of chocolates with a smile, gently kissing your skin as he continues to pretend.

Meanwhile he's also the one sending you human hearts with their boxes covered in blood, right after one of your close friends goes missing.

While Axel tends to play roles and pretend... the one thing that isn't fake is his obsession towards you.

He stalks you around when alone.

He often whispers your name with delusional glee as he tears the heart out of someone.

Axel sees himself as your only love.

He should be your only love.

You're the only one for him, but more importantly, he's the only one for you.

Axel is possessive, as shown with how he is against T.J.

He tends to get into fights and be violent if someone else takes interest in you.

In your case, they may quickly be found dead due to Axel feeling threatened.

Axel will do anything to preserve the relationship between you.

That mostly includes getting rid of rivals and spoiling you the best he can.

When you encounter "Harry Warden", you won't know it's him for a long time.

Although it's weird the miner spares you in particular.

Being offered human hearts only works in Axel's favor.

That rival is gone and he drives you even closer to him.

The notes with the hearts are often twisted declarations of love and murder towards you.

Meanwhile Axel's notes are soft and affectionate when he gives you chocolate.

In terms of if he'd kidnap you?

I can think of two answers.

The first one is... yes.

I can see Axel capturing you as Harry Warden in order to keep you somewhere more isolated.

Then he'll never have to share you, he'll never have to be jealous, and you'll be his.

You'd be tied up and in an abandoned building or maybe even deep in the mines temporarily, all while Axel sits in front of you with a smile.

You plead with him to let you go, but he merely shakes his head.

Why would he let his beloved valentine go?

You two are meant to be.

There's no way he'd let you go.

While you're tied up, bound, and crying... Axel merely cups your face and coos.

He'd kiss your face and lips, even if he was covered in dirt and blood.

You'd be all his... all his to hold... no one to share with.

No one will ever find you again.

Not without dying, that is.

The other option is no, he'd kill you instead.

Both options are driven by the same emotion, jealousy.

However, the second one is the most extreme.

He'd choose such an option if he felt he couldn't keep you to himself.

If you broke up with him, rejected him, or went to someone else for help?

Axel would feel the only way to keep you as his would be to take your heart.

Axel feels, no, knows he's the only one who deserves your heart.

Which means...

He'll have it even if he has to tear it out of your chest.

Axel will try to make your death quick, making sure you're dead before rummaging around your chest cavity.

Although... He'll eventually tear your heart out of your chest with a wet snap.

Does he care if you're dead?

Not entirely.

In his eyes, you're still with him this way.

He can't lose you if he has your heart.

Imagine if Axel tried to find a way to preserve your heart, keeping it like some sort of trinket.

He'd whisper to your heart as though it's you, keeping you close with deranged chuckles.

One way or another, you'll be his.

You're his bloody valentine... forever and always.

[ccalhoun]

Hihi! I was wondering if I can send a request of a Brahms Heelshire oneshot angst? The plot would be like you guys got into a fight of some sort, making him angry and violent. He would accidentally hit you or push you, or anything that can cause you death? What would be his reaction? You can decide that :D

If you decide to do it, thank you so much! No rush at all! Take your time and have a lovely day💕

≻ ┄┄ ♡ ┄┄ ≺

brahms heelshire x m!reader oneshot!

warnings: male reader, can be trans or cis, toxic brahms (its brahms lets be real), arguing, mutual comfort, mentions of blood, descriptions of abandonment, hurt to comfort

wc: 900+

cut for length!

you stormed out of your room, brahms following quickly behind you.

"wait, please! just listen to me! why are you so upset?" brahms' voice was a mix between begging and yelling at you. he was horrified you were going to abandon him and leave him (how would be survive without you)? however, he also thought you were being irrational, how bad was it really that he killed the most recent grocery boy? its not like he deserved to live, how could someone like him try to flirt on someone like you? it was disgusting, really, he views you as an angel, a higher being when all you really do is love him and sort of put up with his stalker-y bullshit. he couldn't let such a lowlife entertain the idea of doing impure things with you, obviously he had to kill the man.

"brahms! just leave me alone, i need to be alone, okay?" you snapped, still keeping you voice low but sharp. brahms let out an almost noiseless growl, barely hearing it himself.

"what's gotten into you? why aren't you listening to me?" brahms' tone now had more of an angry tone, you backed up slightly out of fear. you knew brahms loved you and just had problems with getting told no and being in healthy relationships, but he was still scary. and unstable. almost like you predicted it, he shoved you, hard, and you hit your head on the edge of a small hall table holding a vase with plastic flowers in them. the vase quickly fell off as well, smashing on the floor next to your hand. the sound not only scared you, but also made you flinch and get a few pieces of glass in the palm of your hand.

"damn!" you shouted out of shock before staying seated and trying to take deep breaths so you didn't pass out. brahms just looked at you in shock, millions of thoughts running through his head. his hands were shaking and his heart was beating in his ears, he started silently crying without even thinking about it. "brahms?" you whispered softly once you got your breathing under control and noticed the poor horrified man.

the sound of your voice woke him from his mini coma, looking at your face before starting to sob. his first thought was to get you a rag with water on it and some bandages, since thats what you used to clean him up when he got scraped. he quickly ran off to get the items despite your yelling for him to come back.

you wanted to get up and try to find him but you felt way too dizzy, you were just gonna have to wait until you could stand and walk around. hey, at least maybe he'd be more calmed down by the time you actually do find him! you started to doze off without realizing it when you heard the sound of him softly stepping close to you. your eyes slightly opening wider to look at the man in front of you. he was holding what looked like a cloth of sort and a box of band-aids, how sweet.

he carefully and slowly knelt down, making sure to avoid any of the glass on the ground. you quickly noticed the glint of silver in his hands and realize he was holding your tweezers, you instantly thought of the time he got a splinter and you used the same tweezers to get the small piece of wood out of his hand. you wanted to cry in a good way, he was being sweeter than normal and you missed seeing him like this.

"i'm so sorry," his voice was shaky and slow as he started to carefully and slowly look for glass in the cuts on your arm, trying his best to clean it up and make sure you'd be ok. it was at this point you realized he was still crying, it must have really freaked him out. your heart filled with warmth as you looked at the poor man, scaring himself because he's still trying to learn, him apologizing at all is a massive step. you were less scared, now just convinced you could help him to be even better, and make this the last time this ever happens.

"it's ok, brahmsy," you made sure to add his nickname so he listened better, you knew he loved it when you called him any nicknames, "you're still learning, it's ok. you're helping me now, you're doing such a good job," his crying seemed to stop as he froze and looked at you. the tears started up again after a minute and he hugged you tightly, avoiding your arm, letting out small 'thank you's and 'i'm so sorry's. he really did feel bad. you gave him a soft kiss on the forehead before interrupting the soft moment.

"sorry to rush you, but can you go back to getting the glass out of my arm? i want to show you how to do it properly, if that's ok with you," you smiled softly at him and he nodded slowly, handing you the tweezers and towel, setting the box of band-aids on the floor closer to you. you showed him how to find glass, take it out, clean the cut, and carefully put on the right sized band-aid, once you knew his attention was fully drawn from what happened, you relaxed as well, just enjoying showing him how to help.

and he did listen, he was able to clean up the rest of your arm without any problems <3!

≻ ┄┄ ♡ ┄┄ ≺

[makingfanfictionstosleep]

My First But Not My Last.

Pairing : Gojo x Femreader, Geto x Femreader

Setting : Started from Pre-Cult Suguru Geto // Some folks will not die // Modified that Kenjaku will not totally take over Geto's subconscious later on // Girl bff Shoko, Mei Mei & Utahime, Strong sorcerer reader // Death, Murder Spree, Romance, Lemons.

Rating : M || m i n o r s d o n o t i n t e r a c t

Part 11 : My Last

<;< Previous | Masterlist

"Let's get this shit show on the road," You said with certain numbness & exhaustion in your voice.

You just wanted to rip Satoru Gojo out of the Prison Realm & take him far away. Probably you'd drag Nanami with you.

But that couldn't happen because of the following reasons :

Only you can nullify the prison realm;

Only you can nullify Sukuna from within or drive him out of Megumi's body, however there's a 90% percent chance that he will emerge as the greatest curse of all time;

You'll die if Satoru Gojo dies. Not because of whatever. But because of heartbreak.

So you have to hold your shit together & get Satoru out because you need the strongest to fight the strongest before he consumes all of Megumi, if he hasn't already.

"Look, I don't know what shit's in there, so brace yourself for all kinds of curses," you warned everyone around, "If we haven't had our hands full already. This could be the start of the real shit show."

Nanami & Inumaki were already on their feet, much to Shoko's dismay.

You recalled the incantations you read on the book & with the tip of your finger, you dispelled the prison box.

It started to shake as soon as you touched it & everybody were on full alert.

Each gate started to open up & slowly, Satoru Gojo stepped out of the portal, leaving the cowered skeletons beneath him.

The box sealed shut & Satoru smashed it with his cursed energy to the ground, obliterating it upon contact.

You were in tears as you saw your favorite white-haired guy.

You couldn't stop yourself from running towards him & as soon as you made contact with his body, you melted in his arms immediately as he wrapped his arms tightly around you.

"Missed me, princess?" He whispered in your ear, making you cry even more, before you started to hit him violently for the scare that he caused you.

"You fucking jerk! Do you have any idea how much we've gone through just to get you out?!" you cried as you hit him over & over, leaving the audience astounded as you were able to land every single hit due to your ability, "You fucking scared me, you fucking idiot! What would I do if you die? I can't fucking lose you, fucking jerk!"

Satoru understood how terrified you were. He saw it. He saw how you scoured every book in the archive of your school, then realized that one of the ancients would have it in their files. He was proud, but at the same time, as equally as terrified that you'd be in danger.

He held your tiny wrists & wrapped his arms around you, rubbing your back in soothing circles as he whispered, "I'm here, baby. I'm here. You did a good job. I'm here. Shhh," which helped you calm down.

You didn't leave his side. You didn't even let go of his hand, even while everybody was fililng him up. He didn't see the rest of the fights as he was focused on you. He felt really bad that you had to face his old best friend & put him to rest, but it has to be done.

He held on to your hand as tight as how your gripping it with as if with your dear life.

"Satoru, I am serious. We can't have you rampaging recklessly. I can't, I just can't lose you. I will die," you said... No you begged for him to be cautious & to listen to your plan. If it goes well, then you will all go home, possibly with Megumi & Itadori, not unscathed, but safe.

Satoru held your face in his hands as he forced you to look him in his eyes, "Look at me, Princess. I will not be reckless & I heard you. I will do my best to follow the plan & not go rogue."

"Okay," You nodded like a child, tears glistening as he continuously wiped every drop that falls on your cheeks, "Okay. I need you Satoru."

"Now can I have my fierce Princess back?" He asked with a bit of smug in his tone, "Cause I need her to win this."

You pulled yourself together, still not breaking eye contact because you also wanted him to know that you in it with him no matter what, "You have her. Always."

"That's all I needed to here & the only motivation I needed," Satoru pulled his blindfold back to his eyes.

"You heard my girl & her plan," Satoru said in a commanding tone, "Let's get on with it."

It was the real shit show, as you put it.

Your theories were right. Those books were right.

Sukuna was driven out of Megumi's body as the most powerful, if not, greatest curse of all time. That's expected from the king of curses.

Subduing him was not easy. 20 fingers is equivalent to 20 special grade curses. And you have to defeat them all.

It didn't happen that night, because the moment he was driven out of Megumi's body, he fled.

But He returned, one curse at a time & it didn't take long before you realized that these were his fingers turned into powerful curses.

And the last one was the most difficult of them all.

But you were able to finally subdue it.

Megumi did not leave the battle unscathed. He had to undergo a lot of therapy sessions to ground him - emotionally & mentally because his final straw was when Tsumiki died at his hands.

The same goes for Yuji Itadori, for every person he killed, but he was doing much better because he started to accept that when he fought Mahito.

Kugisaki had a long recovery, but with the help of Shoko's & Hiruguma's ability, she was able to get back to her feet & regain parts of her body that were blasted by Mahito.

Todo regained his boogie-woogie with the help of Hiruguma's advanced reverse cursed technique, which he taught Shoko later on. He left his profession as a lawyer & studied medicine to become a doctor like Shoko.

Yuta was finally able to face his feelings for Maki, which she had an even harder time to accept that somebody wanted her for who she is.

And of course, Miwa finally gave Muta a hug the moment she found Dr. Ieri at Tokyo & they were inseparable ever since.

You, however, took the time off to teach your now-fiancé how to use nullification to control the infinite amount of things that his 6 eyes are seeing. It helped in conserving his energy.

As for Nanami, he took an indefinite leave & booked a flight straight to Malaysia. And you were extremely happy for him. He's the one who deserves all the rest & luxury in the world.

The proposal? It was dramatic since it was Satoru Gojo.

It happened right after Sukuna was defeated.

You were all panting & almost running out of strength. You were all worn out, disheveled & dirty from all the blood & fighting.

That's when he swooped you off your feet with the most breath-taking kiss, with the other sorcerer's watching as he declared his love & devotion for you - much to Utahime's disgust for public displays of affection.

But it was perfect, befitting for the World's Powerful Couple.

"There's nobody who can keep up with my feral side except you, Princess. What do you say? Wanna spend infinity with me?"

"You cheesy idiot, of course I would," You answered with the happiest smile, as everybody cheered for you & Satoru's engagement.

A/N : So that's it. Again, I dunno how I came up with this. It was pure drabble of whatever shit that came to mind. I know there are SO MUCH loopholes so don't come at me for it. I just want Satoru, Nanami, Muta alive, Inumaki with all his limbs, my favorite trio - Yuji, Megumi & Kugisaki recovering to good health, my ships - MechaMiwa, Yuta x Maki. It's my AU so if it's not your cup of tea, then move on to the next fanfic. Anyway, to those who reached this part, thank you for reading through that though I dunno how you survived that because honestly, this is pure drabble with no fixed plot in mind (apart from keeping those folks alive). There may be some side stories though, I'm not sure how & where to start with that, but the main story is done.

[novorehere]

Famished First-Time

Hello friends! This is an especially special post that I am very excited about, because the story you’re about to read was not written by myself. A friend who would like to remain anonymous submitted this amazing story to me and wanted me to post it to my blog for you all to enjoy. While they don’t have their own vore blog, I hope you can all enjoy and give them some praise and feedback! Words cannot describe how much I ADORE it, and I think you all will too no matter if you’re familiar with Obey Me or not <3 

Enjoy!

_____________

“Thank you!” Yuki, the lovely young cashier, smiled sweetly as Rayfa plunked down the appropriate amount of Grimm—plus a generous tip—onto the counter. “Come again!”

“You know I will!” Rayfa laughed, and the demon chick behind the counter laughed too. They had become fast friends—what with Rayfa being a proud regular and all—and Yuki knew she’d be back again within the week.

It always started with an unrelated shopping trip. An excursion to buy some nail polish and ribbons for her next sleepover with Asmo. Or perhaps an errand to pick up the newest video game Levi had pre-ordered, for he was too anxious to go out himself. Regardless of where her ventures began, they always ended back at the bakery—where she could purchase a little something for Beel. It hardly cost her anything (mostly because Yuki gave her legendary discounts) and Beel always got so adorably excited when she came home with dessert, so of course Rayfa had made it into a habit. It was such an easy way to put a smile on his face! How could she not?

“I’m already looking forward to it!” Yuki beamed. “See you next week, hun!”

“See you then!”

Rayfa carefully lifted the hefty white cake box into her hands, then began her leisurely walk back to the House of Lamentation, the soft chimes of the bakery’s doorbell twinkling faintly behind her. It was a lovely night outside, pleasantly warm but with the welcome caveat of a gentle breeze. It was the kind of evening that Rayfa liked to spend admiring the beauty of the Devildom, but something about this particular night was making her uneasy. She felt like she was being watched—nay, hunted. Instinctively, she quickened her pace, trying not to think about it. It was surely just her imagination.

Rayfa was maybe two blocks away from salvation—the HoL—when disaster finally struck. Out of nowhere, Rayfa felt burly/muscular arms wrap uncomfortably tightly around her waist. She readied herself to scream, but a freakishly large hand—with claws—clamped down over her mouth. She fought and kicked as violently as she could, but humans were no match for demons, and her attackers callously dragged her into the nearest alleyway.

Once they were far enough back not to be spotted from the sidewalk, Demon #1 forced her up against the wall and spat out an impatient order.

“I’m going to remove my hand now. Scream, and we’ll make things far messier than they need to be. You understand?”

Rayfa, shaking with fear, nodded frantically. Devildom nights were darker than black, and the streets had been relatively barren earlier, anyway. Rayfa doubted that anyone would come running even if she did scream. The clawed hand was removed, and Rayfa gasped for breath. It wasn’t that she couldn’t breathe before; She was just relieved to get that grimy hand away from her face.

“It’s not every day you see a human ’round these parts…” Demon #1 chuckled darkly.

Rayfa spied two more demons over his shoulder. So there were three of these fuckers, then.

Demon #1 stepped forward to grab her chin—to force her to look at him—which Rayfa desperately wanted to resist. Her self-preservation instincts told her to keep quiet though, and frustratedly, she obeyed.

…Until the dirtbag harassing her stepped purposefully on top of the cake box that had fallen from her grasp during the scuffle.

“That was for my friend…!” Rayfa growled angrily, surprising even herself with how upset she had gotten on Beel’s behalf—especially when her own current predicament was so much worse.

“Yeah, well-” Demon #1 scoffed and cruelly kicked the cake box aside. He stepped closer—again—and made a very deliberate show of licking his lips. “Your friend’s not the only one who needs to eat.”

Rayfa went pale. This guy was actually Oberon levels of creepy. (Levi would have been so proud of Rayfa for that SAO reference.)

“Wait! You-! You can’t eat me!” Rayfa squeaked. “I’m, like, the face of the exchange program! You could ruin relations between the three realms forever!”

“Tch. Like we care about that!” Demon #2 mocked boisterously. “We never wanted to make friends with those stuck-up celestials in the first place!”

“And humans, of course, are just snacks!” Demon #1 tacked on gleefully. “Who gives a fuck if Diavolo’s little exchange program falls through?”

Rayfa gritted her teeth. She wanted to argue more, but they had clearly already made up their minds. She was so royally screwed.

Demon #3, who had been relatively silent throughout the whole exchange, suddenly stepped closer. He was easily the largest of the three degenerate demons; Rayfa had to tilt her head almost all the way back just to meet his eyes. Intimidating. Demon #3 stared her down with the ferocity of a lion. Then he began to speak—quietly yet gruffly—the words foreign and unrecognizable. Suddenly, realization dawned on her. He was reciting a hex.

But by the time Rayfa realized, it was already too late. Her body shrank rapidly and she dizzily watched the world around her grow larger and larger and larger—until finally, she was left untouched at 2-3 inches tall. Things were not looking good for her. But! At such a small size, they couldn’t possibly clamp a hand down over her mouth again! Right?

Desperately, Rayfa began to recite the one phrase she prayed could get her out of this mess:

“Hear me, denizens of the darkness, you who are born of shadow and you who give birth to it! Hear me and do as I command!”

“Stop her!” Demon #1 roared furiously, and Demon #3 (the nearest) made a desperate grab for her. Rayfa just barely managed to scramble out of the way before he could get his grubby hands on her, silently cursing the fact that the summoning incantation was so ungodly long. Nevertheless, she was determined to see it through.

“I, Rayfa, call upon you to send forth one of your number! I summon the Avatar of- HnghGruh!”

Though he had failed to grab her, Demon #3 was still determined to shut her up. He backhanded her—hard—which was enough to garble her words and send her flying backwards across the pavement. Rayfa winced at the scrapes she received. They were gonna hurt like a bitch tomorrow, assuming she lived to see it.

Interrupted as she may have been, though, the spell—blessedly—had still gone through. There was a blinding flash of golden light, and then there, standing before her, was none other than…

Mammon, the Avatar of Greed.

Huh.

Rayfa had (admittedly) been hoping for Lucifer, but whatever panicked sound she’d made upon being swatted away had apparently sounded more like the word greed than the word pride. Honestly though, Rayfa was just relieved to see a familiar face.

…As endearingly incompetent as that familiar face could sometimes be.

Mammon stumbled around dazedly for a moment, and Rayfa felt guilty knowing that her poor casting of the spell was likely to blame. Quickly, she shook her head to clear her mind. Guilt could come later; Right now was her chance to escape!

Even though Mammon had not immediately chased off the three depraved demons, his unexpected appearance alone was more than enough of a distraction for Rayfa to work with. At the very least, she no longer felt quite as cornered as before. Demon #1, Demon #2, and Demon #3 were focused entirely on Mammon now, and that gave her the perfect opportunity to disappear. A full-sized demon was a much greater threat than a tiny human girl, after all! Rayfa instantly began scheming. Maybe she could subtly sneak away now, text Lucifer or Satan to come pick her up, and apologize to Mammon for using him as an escape later. He would fake like he was annoyed by it, she was sure, but there was no way these demons would actually be able to hurt him—not like they would hurt her—and Mammon would recognize that too. He’d just be relieved that he’d protected her, even if unknowingly at first.

Rayfa was just about to make her move, ready to dart out of the shady alleyway, but right before she took the first step, dark blue eyes swirled with gold locked onto her.

“Rayfa?!” Mammon spluttered out with confusion, as the last of the vertigo from her botched summoning spell finally wore off.

It took a good few seconds for Mammon to realize exactly what was happening, but eventually things did click for him, and the Avatar of Greed whirled on the lesser demons indignantly. Unfortunately for him, Demon #1 and his lackeys had finally recovered from the shock of their surprise visitor and were eager to make him pay.

“Oh shit!” Mammon swore, lightning-fast reflexes kicking into gear as he ducked to avoid a punch.

Demon #2 quickly lunged after him, but Mammon—surprisingly tactfully—sidestepped that, too. Levi really hadn’t been kidding when he’d said that Mammon was “Fast as fuck, boi!” Seriously! He moved so quickly that Rayfa could scarcely make out a blur! Mammon deftly avoided several more attacks, then glanced around with wild eyes, searching for an out. When he found one—as he always did—his body moved before his brain could catch up. Rayfa supposed she shouldn’t hold his recklessness against him though. It was what she was currently banking on to save her life.

When Mammon finally threw a punch of his own, the attack was surprisingly calculated. His fist connected squarely with the jaw of the head honcho—Demon #1—and Mammon capitalized on that fact. All he had needed was an opening, which he’d succeeded in creating for himself when Demon #1 had stumbled backwards from the force of the blow. He quickly darted past the now capsized enemy, taking advantage of the clever little “escape route” that was open. And then…

Mammon just fucking ran for it, gravel flying as he skidded past the remaining two lackeys and began sprinting directly towards poor terrified Rayfa. He didn’t slow down as he neared her. In fact, Rayfa swore he sped up! She squeezed her eyes shut as Mammon barreled forward at breakneck speeds, leaning down at just the right moment to scoop her up as he careened away from the alley. Rayfa let out a squeak of alarm as she felt Mammon’s fingers curl around her, but she relaxed somewhat when she realized that he had actually taken great care to hold her securely (but not so tightly that she’d be uncomfortably squeezed).

And then, just like that, they were gone.

Rayfa hadn’t expected anything less from him. If there was one thing Mammon was great at, it was running away. (Usually from debt collectors or angry brothers, but the logic applied here too.)

“Oh shit! Oh fuck!” Mammon panicked, footsteps pounding heavily on the sidewalk. “I really don’t wanna die!”

Despite herself, Rayfa felt a smile playing on her lips. Even when Mammon actually managed to pull off something pretty damn cool, he was still an endearingly panicky mess. But Rayfa wouldn’t have him any other way.

A few tense minutes of running later, Mammon veered off into another alleyway further down the street, panting heavily. Quick as he was, he obviously didn’t have the stamina to go on running forever. He needed a breather, but Rayfa didn’t think they could afford to take one.

The demon muttered something frustratedly under his breath. Rayfa couldn’t quite catch the words, but she could only imagine he was cursing out their pursuers. Which was totally understandable—they very much deserved it—but what Rayfa couldn’t understand was why he had stopped to do so. Tired or not, they had to get home!

“Mammon?” Rayfa questioned nervously, gently prying his fingers apart to sneak a worried peek up at the demon. He held her level with his heart, hands cupped carefully around her, blue-gold eyes gazing down upon her worriedly. Had they not been dangerously preoccupied, Rayfa would’ve melted at how concerned he looked over her.

“I’m not gonna let ‘em have ya,” Mammon growled protectively. “You’re my human, ya hear?”

Mammon had always been relatively exceedingly protective of her, but Rayfa had never really minded. She thought the whole “keep you all to myself” thing was sweet, even, albeit in a very Mammon sort of way. But something about the way he was staring at her now…

For the first time since they’d met, Rayfa felt inherently nervous under the Avatar of Greed’s gaze.

“Uhhh, are you-” Rayfa started to say, but the demon’s hands suddenly lurched beneath her, causing her to yelp with surprise rather than finish her thought. “Aaa!”

Mammon determinedly brought her to eye-level, an uncharacteristically serious expression etched across handsome features.

“What are you doing?!” Rayfa nervously demanded, the demon’s sudden solemnity eating away at her. Mammon was never sober like this. To make matters worse, Rayfa could hear the angry shouts of the demons they’d run away from. Those fuckers were finally starting to catch up.

It seemed that Mammon had heard them too, their voices being what finally spurred him on to do the unthinkable.

“S-Sorry ‘bout this!”

Mammon rarely ever apologized, which only solidified Rayfa’s right to fear whatever was coming. She had a really really really bad feeling about this.

Mammon, looking just as nervous as Rayfa felt, awkwardly guided the brave little human towards his lips. He gulped nervously, then opened wide with an automatic “ahhh”, and realization came crashing down onto the girl like a tidal wave. Rayfa screamed and tried to scramble backwards, but Mammon quickly threw his head back and fervently crammed her in.

It was almost absurd how quickly the demon’s mouth flooded with drool. Rayfa whined with disgust as warm gooey saliva oozed over her, bubbling up and seeping through her clothes. Mammon cautiously brought his teeth back together, sealing her away inside, then began eagerly slurping down her staple human flavors. Rayfa felt herself blush, angry and embarrassed that Mammon was spending such an exorbitant amount of time tasting her.

“Mammon!” Rayfa seethed, practically shaking with rage. “What the fuck!”

She was exhausted and disgruntled and grossed out, but begrudgingly, she decided to put up with whatever episode Mammon was having right now because she trusted him. For all she knew, demon spit could reverse hexes cast on humans or something! Right, yeah. Mammon probably had a plan. She just needed to play along and-

*Glk!*

Mammon gulped thickly, and Rayfa suddenly felt the clench of tight/squishy muscle around her as she was sucked down into the boy’s throat. She squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath, being worked deeper and deeper with every purposeful swallow. Mammon had been quick to stuff her into his mouth, but now that she was safely out of sight, Rayfa noticed, he was taking his sweet time getting her down. Slow, languid gulps. Pleasured hums vibrating around her. Fingers gingerly pressed against the throat, presumably to feel her fight back as he swallowed. Rayfa grimaced as she slowly squelched down his greedy gullet, squirming violently as the unyielding flesh easily suctioned her down.

“Stop enjoying this…!” Rayfa growled disgustedly. “Bastard…!”

Within the minute, Mammon finished swallowing her down, letting out a relieved and breathy sigh. Rayfa, meanwhile, gasped out as the tight, hot, unyielding throat finally gave way to a much roomier space. Fleshy and vulnerable, the squishy pink walls shifted easily around her as Rayfa scrambled to reorient herself. A noisy gurgle stretched on, echoing around the darkness. She had finally reached his stomach.

“…hububhhuhuhh…” Mammon babbled through what sounded like a very drooly mouthful.

“Mammon! Are you kidding me right now?!” Rayfa screamed, raging annoyance briefly overtaking her fear.

“…tha’ feelsh…” Mammon moaned out. “…so fuckin’ guhd…”

Rayfa shuddered at how the stomach lurched as Mammon stumbled almost-drunkenly backwards, then slumped against the grimy brick walls, slowly sliding down and lowering himself to the ground.

“Urghhh!” Rayfa groaned, utterly exasperated. “You! Are! The! Absolute! Worst!”

Every word was punctuated with an annoyed punch to the stomach walls. She only really succeeded in getting her fist all sticky/slimy with stomach ooze though; Manmon appeared entirely unaffected.

Rayfa surely would have chewed him out even more had she not been interrupted by a sickeningly familiar voice. Even though she was tucked away out of sight, she still shivered just hearing it. They had finally caught up.

“What did you do with the girl?!” Demon #1 demanded furiously.

“I, uh…” Mammon slurred. He had barely even begun to answer when his digestive system suddenly did the work for him, a deep and contented burp rolling up his throat. “Mrph. ‘Scuse me.”

It didn’t take much for Demon #1 and his lackeys to put two and two together after that.

“Bastard! She was supposed to be my lunch!” Demon #1 roared. “Get him!”

Rayfa hated that her heart leapt at the thought of Mammon getting caught up in trouble. Especially on her behalf. She was supposed to be angry at him—he had fucking eaten her—but much to her annoyance and embarrassment, she couldn’t shake the worry from her heart. She’d grown to care too much.

“Mammon, please! Get it together!” Rayfa urged, cursing herself for encouraging the man who had gulped her down like nothing more than an afternoon snack. But she couldn’t just sit idly by!

Mammon stayed seated, but Rayfa felt the stomach shift as he at least sat up straight. She felt a sudden surge of power flow through and around her, too. And when Mammon next spoke, his voice was unrecognizable.

“BaCK oFF,” Mammon snarled like a rabid dog, sounding like an actual demon for the first time since Rayfa had met him. “Or I’LL eaT yOU foR desSERT!”

Rayfa was pretty sure that Mammon only had a hankering for humans—not for other demons—but the threat worked all the same. Mammon almost never lost control, which made the few times he actually did downright terrifying. Rayfa could only imagine the looks of horror on her attackers’ faces as they trembled at the sight of the second son’s true form.

“Shit! I didn’t realize he was one of the seven Avatars-!”

“Okay, okay! You can keep the human! Just-!” An honest-to-god whimper. “Please don’t hurt us!”

“Quick! Let’s get out of here!”

Noises from the “outside world” (with the exception of voices) had proven too muffled to hear from within the confines of the demon boy’s gut, but Rayfa imagined that if she had been out there with him, she would’ve heard a stampede of receding footsteps. Her suspicions were further supported when she felt the energy needed to maintain his true form slowly fade away. Mammon let out a thoroughly contented puff of breath and relaxed back against the wall again, too. Demon form now totally dispelled. And then, in a move Rayfa never would’ve expected, Mammon began rubbing his belly appreciatively—she could feel the gentle weight on the other side of the “wall”. For a hopeful but fleeting moment, Rayfa almost believed he cared. But no! He had eaten her!

Rayfa tried desperately to work out why Mammon had done this. Had he decided that, if she was going to end up “demon food” anyway, it may as well be his belly she was filling? A memory from long ago suddenly sprung to the forefront of her mind:

“The next time your life’s in danger, I’m gonna be the one to save you, all right? Don’t you forget that.”

“…And if I can’t manage to save ya, then make sure you die, got it?!”

Rayfa felt tears prickling at her eyes. So that was it then. Mammon had decided that if he couldn’t protect her, the least he could do was take her out himself.

Rayfa shuddered as the stomach gurgled loudly. It’d been relentlessly noisy—groaning and churning around her—for the entire duration of her “stay”. She felt drowned out, unsure whether or not Mammon could even hear her, but Rayfa had never been the type to give up.

“Mammon! They- They’re gone now, right? So then let me out!”

“…fiyve mr…minuhhs…” Mammon mumbled out, words slurred and utterly unintelligible.

Rayfa groaned.

Why are you like this?

Praying that Mammon could hear her—she still wasn’t totally sure her words would reach him from down there—Rayfa did the only thing she could think left to do. She called upon the power of the pact.

“MAMMON!!!” Rayfa roared at the top of her lungs, fingers crossed that he could actually hear her so that the pact would work. “SPIT! ME! OUT!”

Rayfa guessed her words must’ve gotten through to him, because just like that, the demon’s body began to obey. The stomach lurched, and Mammon began making throaty/guttural choking noises like he was dry-heaving. Rayfa felt herself being tugged back towards the esophagus—This was her way out!—but the gagging sounds poor Mammon was making were rapidly becoming unbearable. Rayfa was genuinely beginning to worry that she’d accidentally commanded him to choke himself.

“Hrrk, rggh, hrghk-!”

“Okay, okay! Stop! Don’t hurt yourself!”

Rayfa cursed her own lack of resolve. She was going to die here now. As nothing more than “demon food”—like Mammon always teased. All because she couldn’t bring herself to hurt the lovable dumbass who’d eaten her.

Her surroundings shook turbulently for another few seconds as coughs wracked Mammon’s body. He wasn’t choking anymore, thank god, but he was very clearly gasping for breath. Rayfa felt terribly guilty for putting him through that. When Mammon had finally cleared his throat, he muttered out an unabashedly annoyed:

“Ya know, it’d be a lot easier on the botha us if ya lemme cough you up myself.”

“You-!” Rayfa brightened at finally being addressed, tears of relief blurring her vision. “You were really going to let me out?”

“Well, duh.” Mammon shrugged, and Rayfa slid as the walls shifted around her. “If I wanted ya dead, I woulda let those lesser demons have ya.”

“But-! But you-!”

“Didn’t ya hear the protection spell?” Mammon grumbled, clearing his throat again. Apparently, some lingering discomfort remained. Rayfa winced sympathetically. She really hadn’t meant to hurt him. “I cast one on ya right before I swallowed ya down.”

Ah. So that’s what he had been doing when she saw him “cursing out” the demons chasing them. Apparently, that flustered muttering had been a protection spell.

“Okay, fine! But why didn’t you answer me?!” Rayfa demanded shakily. “I was seriously freaking out, Mammon!”

“I, uh…” And the regret was practically tangible. He sounded immeasurably guilty. “’M sorry.” He finally settled on. “I didn’t mean to get buzzed like that.”

Yeah, Rayfa had figured that much out. She didn’t say so, though. Instead, she stayed patiently quiet, giving him room to elaborate.

“Humans really are a delicacy for us, ya know? And havin’ one alive and kickin’ in my belly…” Mammon mumbled embarrassedly. “…kinda fried my brain.”

Yeah, that checked out. Rayfa hummed in acknowledgement.

“Didn’t mean to give ya a heart attack though…” Mammon continued after a beat. “I really am sorry ‘bout that, Rayfa.”

He sounded so beyond apologetic that Rayfa couldn’t help but want to reach out to him. In moments like these—rare as they were—Rayfa would usually give him a hug. But obviously, that couldn’t quite be done…

Almost reflexively, Rayfa reached out with both hands, palms splayed against the squishy stomach walls. She gave a reassuring little shove—like a playful nudge to the shoulder—then slowly began rubbing soothing little circles into the flesh. Mammon shivered with delight at her touch; Rayfa could feel the stomach tremble with pleasure. Despite herself, she let out a little laugh.

“That good, huh?” Rayfa teased. The playful banter almost made her feel like they were chilling out on the couch together. Almost made her forget where she really was.

“Sh-Shaddup!”

Rayfa just knew he was blushing like crazy.

“I guess I should probably thank you for saving me,” Rayfa sighed wistfully. “Albeit through very unconventional means.”

Mammon huffed proudly. “You’re welcome! You should know by now never to doubt the Great Mammon!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Rayfa waved away the egotistical comment. “Can the ‘Great Mammon’ cough me up already? It’s super gross down here.”

“Uh.” Mammon froze, and Rayfa could feel the stomach tense up nervously around her. “Just lemme getcha back to the dorms first. You’ve got a penchant for trouble and I don’t wantcha runnin’ into any more of it.”

Excuse me?! You think I’m the one with the penchant for trouble?!

It took Rayfa a moment to realize that Mammon didn’t actually think her a trouble-magnet. He just wanted an excuse to hold onto her for a little longer. Because he was enjoying it.

Rayfa sighed heavily. She knew she was going to regret this: “Yeah, okay. But you’d better let me out the second we get home.”

“Yeah, ‘course! Sure thing.”

Rayfa laughed and shook her head. Now that Mammon had gotten a taste, Rayfa had the distinct feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time she found herself playing the role of “dinner”.

But curiously enough, Rayfa also found that maybe she didn’t totally mind. ❤️

[cosmal]

hozier—

omg tell me what you think about hockey player!steve

omg ive done baseballplayer!steve but this is amazing shut up.

he's definitely a douche at first idc. that king!steve hockey player rep.

he's good. really good and he fucking knows it too.

he doesn't take shit from the ref. he'll yell about an unfair call or what he thinks is unfair.

he can get violent. fights about things that he usually starts. god. the bloodied noses. and when he gets pulled off some other guy, he's all smartass smiles with blood in his teeth. panting and shit ughhhhhhhh.

and then he notices you, of course, how could he not. you come to most of his games. he wants to believe you come for him.

then he finds out you're the coach's daughter.

how he's never met you before is beyond him but he really wants to. it's embarrassing really.

eventually, after a game, he runs into you leaving the coaching box.

because he's a charmer, he gets your number after a ten-minute talk he was lucky enough to get out of you.

you go on a few dates. the movies. the park. the arcade at your request. and he finds out, much to his delight or not he's not sure, that he genuinely likes you.

you're smart, way too smart for him, he thinks, funny, fucking hilarious, shy went you want to be and loud around your friends. worse than him, he thinks.

you're much more than the past girlfriends he's had.

when he finds out you've never skated before, he's amazed. being the coach's daughter.

he finds you a pair of skates straight away and takes you out on the ice.

"steve, im gonna fall on my ass."

"I won't let you. promise."

you shake like a leaf, gripping way too hard onto his hands as he guides you out onto the ice.

"alright, now stand up a bit - yeah that's it, baby. straighten your legs up."

"I can't."

"yeah, you can."

you do as he says and honestly, he's shocked you trust him this much. it hits him right in the gut.

"Im sorry, your poor hands."

"im fine, promise. had worse."

"I've seen the black eyes, steve."

"exactly."

he gets you so wound down, you don't even notice when he lets go of you.

he skates away from you, cheering.

"that's it! look at you go!"

"steve! what the fuck, come back!'

'you're doing so well, baby!"

eventually, you fall on your knees and feel like a complete fool.

he helps you up and he has it in him to feel a little bad.

"you okay? your knees okay?"

"just a little embarrassed."

"right. well, let's go get some food, yeah?"

eventually, you go to all his games just for him.

he blows you kisses before the game starts and comes up to the plexiglass after to fog it up and draw little hearts like a total cornball.

you've totally turned him into some lovely fool that puts king!steve to shame.

still, he gets into fights because he cant help himself.

he feels bad, really, awful, when he finds you on the sidelines looking a little upset.

he gets patched up by a medic and goes to find you straight away.

"your nose is bleeding."

"I'm okay."

you reach up and cup his face. "your lovely eyes, steve."

"I promise I'm okay."

"that's gonna bruise."

he lets you take him home and ice him up. he takes the scolding and the warnings because he deserves them.

"did you really need to hit him once he was down?"

"probably not."

"probably not. stop getting into fights, steve. you're gonna end up seriously hurt."

he promises to never get into another fight once he sees you crying.

he doesn't.

-

stopping the read more glitch <3

[ghostaholics]

ᴇɴᴅ ᴛɪᴍᴇs

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader Warning(s): age-gap (reader probably in mid 20s or so); angst A/N: Because I'm too lazy to write a full fic so here's literally a short piece of what I'm sure would've been something if I had the motivation

JOEL ALWAYS SAID THIS ABOUT YOU – born young enough to grow up in a world that had nothing to offer; you didn’t watch it decay like he did where it used to be half-decent and you could find your place in life before everything went to shit – had grown into something inhospitable and terrible and bitter to the core. No, to you, it was just rotten from the very beginning: broken dreams and scattered ashes littering the filthy ground, a bunch of "what-ifs" and "maybes" and no room for shades of gray when it came to seeing things in black and white because the darkness won out and snuffed out the rest of all that was light and good as the sickness descended like the goddamn Rapture; it wasn’t just the infected that remained – the only people left navigating the wreckage were those with cruel hearts and nasty intentions.

"Well, it's not all that awful," you say, murmuring into the opening of your thermos as you stare fixedly at the last the last few remnants of stew at the bottom. "You're here. I guess that sorta makes up for it."

His figure is hunched over the fire he recently smothered. Even though his back is facing you, the tension in his body is apparent. Rigid – the same way he stiffens up when danger's nearby. "Don't say that kinda stuff." (And it sounds just as serious as “Stay behind me,” or “Run,” whenever hell’s at your both of your guys' heels.)

But you keep on rambling anyways – Pandora's box cracked wide open like a gaping maw that spills secrets, ones that should have never been let out – won’t fucking shut up about it even if you can help it now. And maybe it's not fair to put this kind of burden on him; maybe it's selfish of you to tell him, no matter how wrong it is, but each day could be your last and getting this off your chest might mean one less stupid problem to worry about. It's not like he doesn't know. Not after what happened back in Colorado, anyways. That had made it clear as day if it wasn't already obvious before. "After everything we've been through, I bet you still think of me as that same kid that got under your skin when we first met," you say absentmindedly. It doesn't come out in an accusatory tone, just an observation.

The stress leaches into his voice, washing over every word. Joel's on guard. Walls up. He shakes his head slowly, like a warning. "You've got no idea what you're talking about."

You lean back, transferring your weight into your wrists. "So I'm not right, then?" you ask it innocently enough.

He's moving around, double-checking that all the gear's in place. Of course, he's avoiding any eye contact. "We've got to head out in ten. Now's not the time for this kind of conversation."

"Almost a thousand miles left. All we really have is time. Look, Joel whatever you've got to say, I can handle it. You don't need to spare my feelings.”

He’s fidgeting with his watch as if the strap’s suddenly too tight – a habit he doesn't indulge in often, but one that you've noticed once in a blue moon. Maybe he developed it because of you. Always so sure of himself, but you're the one person who's managed to upend everything. "Get your —"

" —guns are in my pack," you finish for him. It's routine at this point. He's predictable. You know what to expect. "Is it because—"

He cuts you off too. "It's a bad idea." There's a finality to his voice.

So he's thought about this before.

"We've had worse ones."

“People like you don’t end up with people like me,” he says. "Shouldn't."

And you’re taken aback because out of everything that you expected it most certainly wasn’t that.

The ticking of a secondhand, booming – can’t be his watch because that’s been shattered for years – off-rhythm, way too fast; it’s your heart thrashing violently behind the cage of your chest. You reach for him, fingers curling around his wrist. Your thumb meets his pulse point and you feel the constellation of tiny scars across the expanse of his weathered skin. He’s warm. Alive. “That’s not — Joel, c’mon, you don’t seriously believe that—”

His eyes flickers down to where the two of you are joined before dragging back up to meet your gaze. "I’m not infected like the rest of ‘em, but this disease turns men into monsters, corrupts them until they're the most twisted versions of themselves. I've done things that I'll never be able to come back from, and when we’re done here, you’re better off finding something else.”

As if you could ever. That's next to impossible. "I've seen all of the ugliest and messiest parts of you and it doesn't change a single thing. I still want you just as bad."

[thecameronchronicles]

Thighs

TW: Smut. Language. 

SUMMARY: Without condoms or patience, JJ finds another way to relieve himself. 

WORD COUNT: 700

REQUESTED

Anonymous asked:

JJ fucking reader’s thighs because she’s not on birth control and they ran out of condoms?

Thighs

“Fuck….” He groaned when reaching into the bedside table, your expression soured when watching him pull the empty box of condoms from the broken drawer, “Please baby, I can try to pull out or-”

“I’m not on the pill, JJ…” You reminded him as he clenched his teeth. 

“I’m so fucking hard for you…So goddamn sexy and now I’m throbbing because I can’t take care of it…” You bit your bottom lip as you felt him suddenly motion you to your side. 

“J-”

“Do you trust me?” You nodded as he left your hips naked to his touch, panties and shorts kicked to the very edge of the bed as you felt his rigid cock slip between your thighs, but not to penetrate or even to tease, to use the tension of that soft skin around him. 

“JJ-”

“Don’t worry baby…you’ll come too. I’ll make sure of it, sweetheart…I want to feel you drip on me…”

“Ahh…” You groaned to the feeling of his hand to your clit. 

“Oh my God…” He groaned. “So warm…” You reached for his cock, wanting to assist in a release, but he would weave your fingers to crane behind you and wrap at his neck before his touch came back to your sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“I only want to feel those perfect little thighs squeeze me baby…and I want to hear how much you fucking love it.” He spoke, that hand formerly at rest beneath your head now in a gentle but dominant wrap at your hair, pulling you back far enough so he could feast on your neck in a series of tongue kisses hot at your skin. 

“You’re already shaking-”

“JJ please…just put it in…I’ll get a morning after pill tomorrow-”

“Not a chance…this is too fucking good.” He groaned, moving behind you in growing acceleration. “Oh shit…You’re gonna make me come like this…” He pulled your hair tighter. “But you know the deal…we come together, you come first, or I don’t come at all.”

“Please, JJ…”

“God, you’re dripping on it, baby, I fucking love it.” His hand moved to your neck, angling your head down. “Look at how good it is…look what you’re doing to me…stop fucking with me and come baby…I want to feel that over me…”

“JJ!”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Fingers…please! I need more!”

“More? Two? Or three?”

“OH SHIT!” You groaned as he began to pump into you, one at a time, denying himself the feeling of your thighs around him in order to offer you this pleasure, as you were quick to stroke him. 

“Baby-”

“I need to make you come, JJ…I need to hear you…”

“No. I want you to feel me…Watch me…watch me come undone because of you…watch me fucking come because of these thighs. ONLY these thighs.” He pulled your fingers to his mouth, sucking on them, before driving his cock back at that pace between your thighs. 

“How the fuck does that feel so good?” He growled into your shoulder, sucking on skin as he was purposeful to leave behind bruising as a trophy for how you tasted for him. 

“FUCK! I can feel it!” You explained. 

“Yeah?”

“YES!”

“Then come on my cock, baby…right on it…right there…come on baby…” He endorsed, quickening as your body responded to him in grand approval. 

“I love how you’re shaking for me…but I need you to come.”

“I am! I’m fucking coming, JJ! Ah! Ahh! AHHH!” You gasped, moaning silenced by the rush too bold and intense to ignore as that sudden drip of warmth over his couch provided the proper lubrication. His feet tangled in yours to keep you pinned in place and your thighs tight as the overstimulation of his cock rubbing between you made you react with nearly violent jerks. 

“JJ!”

“I’m close baby…fuck…you’re gonna make me come-” He smacked your ass. “Those fucking thighs are making me come…” You assisted this by pressing your thighs even tighter, your name cursed beneath clenched teeth before watching his cock flex as his moans chorused behind you as validation for a release you witnessed. 

“Oh Shit! Oh Fuck! YES!” He breathed heavily behind you, those fingers recently embedded in your skin now gripping the sheets before you as he withdrew all angst and fell to a rest at your back. 

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @camilynn @sweetestdesire @pankhoeforlife @pankowperfection

[theviridianbunny]

LIKE A MIRROR OF KOMPEKI - PART 1 [THE MAINFRAME]

ENDGAME SPOILERS FOR CYBERPUNK 2077

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Summary: In The final hours of storming arasaka tower - Viridian is faced with many challenges and realities. t was time to face what all the pain had come too.

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A/N: Pspspsspps angst nation cone get your dinner !!! - this fic is full of it [along with lots of emotion and twist and turns and *gasp* a marriage proposal of sorts!!?!]

Part 1 of a 3 part fic... You can read the first part below the cut or on AO3 here!! Thank you for reading!!! This fic is not beta read so sorry in advance for any spelling or grammar error

It was far too cold and the lights were too bright as Viridian stumbled toward the central tower of the server room. She could feel the relic in her head deteriorating by the seconds. She fought for every shaken footstep.    

Her breathing hitched, laboured and heavy. Audible rattling - like a nasty chest infection that never truly went away.  

Familiar comforts felt like a foreign language to the red rabbit. Jackie's valentino bomber felt exceptionally heavy over her shoulders. Normally a comforting feeling, now it felt too much - shaking it off her frame now… 

A pained groan escaped her as she lowered herself down to the metal floor- back against the server tower for support. The heat coming off the red giant felt like a very small comfort among the horrors. 

Her hands shook as she braced herself. Vision blurred with big tears. Tears of fear- tears of frustration. Tears of pain and anguish. 

A pained sob escaped her. “Everything hurts jac-”

“I know, i know it hurts babe” he tried her best to be of comfort- as his love succumbed to the panic that had been eating ever since the dead rockerboy invaded her mind.  

“I - I dont want to die - ” she admitted “I don't want to die - I don't want to die -” the statement repeated 

“I- thought I-I’d resigned my-myself to my fate -” she struggled to verbalise her thoughts “I thought I - I was ready to die- but- but now we’re here- and - and - i can’t - i can’t - I can’t die “

Viridian’s sobs brung back the feelings of the night before 

When the two were in bed. With Clean sheets and freshly bathed- Viridian tried her best to be cosy and rest. Leant into Jackie's shoulder, as he sat reading out loud to Viridian. She found when Jackie read to her, it helped to keep her mind at ease - even if it were only for one moment. 

But the rest and comfort was quickly forgotten - as Viridian began to cough. 

 Jackie heard how Viridian choked , spitting blood into her cybernetic hand, then he felt just how quickly the weight on the bed shifted.

 His beloved scrabbling for a tissue or an old dark T-shirt she’d flung on the floor… she needed something - anything. She did not want her sheets to stain.   

Everything had to be clean. Everything had look fine - it had to be fine. To viridian- is everything looked fine - every was fine-

He could hear how Viridian’s chest rattled violently and feel the panic rising in both himself and her - as he put the book he was reading down on his thigh. Quickly grabbing her a tissue from the box on the bedside table .

The sight before him is one he couldn't prepare himself for, not even if he tried. Thick strokes of blood down her chin- her cybernetic eyes glitching. These big tears flowing from her eyes as she choked on nothing but the air they both breathed 

Viridian tried her best to not look at specs of blood spotted over the clean bedding- must've fallen through her fingers… the whimper that escaped her when her vision travelled to her silk nightgown - also soiled with rich iron. 

The panic finally set in as Jackie helped to wipe the blood from her chin and her hands-. Then , with a fresh tissue, the tears from her eyes. 

“the sheets- they - I just - they're clean on-” she protested “and- and my nightgown- ill never get the stains out” she gripped her hands into tight firsts- squeezing hard- before bringing her hand over her eyes . She sobbed- with anger. It sounded near animalistic.

Jackie held her as her world fell apart. He felt how tense she was. Jackie knew she wasn’t just crying because she soiled the bedsheets with blood - he knew she were crying just because everything was finally setting in. She’d tried to be brave for so long - now it were all falling apart

“the sheets are dirty - the fucking sheets- and I'm going to die- im goning to die - and and “ she cried 

“ I don't want to die- Jac I dont want to die- i want to live- and to have clean bed sheets and a clean night gown- - fucking hell - I want to sleep peacefully- without the fear I won’t wake up next to you again-”

Each word tumbling out her mouth faster and faster.  

He held her then - and he held her now - with the same love and care. Jackie knew he couldn't fix Viridian- he couldn't save her from the inevitable- but he would be there to try and comfort - to support

To love his best girl - no matter how hard things got.

  

Pulling himself back into the moment - focusing on the night before would not help the current situation. Watching as Viridian composed herself the best she could. She was still still tearful - but something had finally dropped.  

It was now or never.

“We made it here though - right ?” Jackie doing his best to encourage his lover.

“we did-” she pulled her cybernetic hand out of Jackie's as she was cutoff by the urge to cough. Averting her gaze from Jackie's - jackie could hear how desperate she was - how laboured her movements and breathing had become.  

Viridian wiped the clot she'd coughed up over her already dirtied cargos - grimacing at the sight. 

You’d think she’d be used to the sight of her own blood now. It still made her feel rotten to her core. 

Feeling no relief as Jackie helped prepare her for the final deep dive. His fingers tracing on the cover of the personal link- in a quick movement, he slid back the cover. Taking a split second to study his lover's face. A large hand coming to her jawline - he felt his love lean into the gesture. 

They shared a kiss. Viridian worrying deep down that it would be the last time she'd feel Jackie's lips over hers

“fuck-, We did- we did make it, but- what if its too late?” She questioned. More thinking a loud her fear than asking a question. Trying to ignore the pain shooting up her cybernetic arm, as Jackie hooked her up to mikoshi. 

 

The electric current ripping through her like a tiger claw’s bullet. 

“fuuuuck me that burns-” she groaned-re adjusting the cable - her head feeling light as she felt this surge of data flow into her. 

And now ???

Now the next challenge for the teal haired netrunner- getting herself into the pool of coolant before her body began to fail.

“Jac-” through a laboured exhale and gritted teeth “I need you to help me up please” j

Viridian felt herself be scooped up by her lovers strong arms in a moments notice- she braced herself against the tower - before she hyped herself up to walk.

Just a few steps and she would be in the coolant… stepping slowly - with a slight limp - before she felt Jackie’s hand over her cybernetic shoulder 

“I’m coming in with you” 

“But you’re not suited up-”

“Don’t argue with me - I'm coming in with you. you've not got the stamina to keep yourself a float-”

“Bu-but your clothes are gonna get soaked- and denim re-retains liquid- you'll cat-catch a cold and- - jac - jackie you're always so grouchy when you're sick-” 

‘There's a solution here - don't you worry” 

Jackie stripped off his vest and jeans - after kicking off his shoes as fast as he could. Just in his boxers. Watching how Viridian half forced a smile- raising an eyebrow.  

Even with her brain clouded over - she knew the logic behind his plan… She knew how heavy water logged clothing could be - it would be no good for their escape out of the tower…. Viridian herself in a netrunner suit and paper light cargos. 

She would be fine. She just hoped Jackie knew what he were getting himself into now..

“Jackie-” she started - cybernetic hand over his chest “You do know the coolant Is not akin to the heated swimming pools at the Kompeki spa… ”

“I know - I know”

Viridian knew he didn’t… but she was beyond tired to try and convince him otherwise. 

In an instant - Jackie scooped his beloved into his arms. Careful to not unhook the wire strung into Viridian's cybernetic hand - it looked like an UV line. 

He could feel how cold she was - how she fought the urge to shiver - her muscles tense. 

As Jackie stepped off the ledge into the coolant - he was greeted to a world unknown to him. A world of ice and a level of cold he had never experienced- not even the harsh winters of night city came close to this…

 Talking a second to mutter unholy words in his mother tongue- before forcing himself down further.

“Ay- fuck-” he breathed “it always this cold babe?” the icy liquid hitting him hard.

L

He felt Viridian weakly laugh against him. 

“I told you it was cold” she rolled her eyes before continuing “its gonna hit you double time because you're not suited up- “. She scoffed

 “gods- Wh-Why do you think this stuffs called coolant?” She questioned.

“Is it called coolant to keep a total babe like yourself cool?” Joking even at a time like this 

Viridian tried her best to crack a smile. 

“Smooth as ever- Welles…” she answered softly. 

Her body against Jackie's- she inhaled sharply as he lowered her into the coolant. Holding her close - one hand over the small of her back and the other supporting her neck and back of her head. 

His index finger traced over the remnants of metal and thick scar tissue from her arasaka days. There used to be an access point jacked into the back of her head. It was the same golden chrome as the cyberwear over her checks.  

Jackie still remembered the day Viridian begged her ripper doc to remove the access point. How her and older man bickered back and forth about how she were a netrunner and really should have kept it for future jobs. 

As he held his beloved in the coolant - he could feel her body temperature dropping- noticing how she fought to not go into shock

“Ah ah - carino- come on now- focus on my voice - and all the things we should do when this is over”

“Mh- like what?”

“When this is all over - we should get married-” Jackie's tone was playful yet sincere. “I want to marry you Viri- if you'll have me-” 

Jackie felt how Viridian tried to lift her upper body in the coolant. His eyes meeting her own - through the sheer lighting- he could see how she smiled. 

“if I- if I survive whatever is coming- I will marry you Jac-”

The last thing she felt before she drifted out of consciousness was the delicate kiss placed on her forehead. The last thing she heard was Jackie saying how much he loved her. The last thing she felt was how he held her. 

If only she knew what was ahead of her now

[morticia-mystic]

Flower, gleam and glow...

(cw: child abuse, toxic parent, running away)

"No ? What do you mean, no ?"

Mother Gothel questioned, her tone so cold it made Johnny's and Ginny's blood run ice cold.

"You can't hear me, mother, I said no. I'm not putting up with your bullshit anymore."

It was that time of night again, where mother sat down with her children between her legs and had them sing the same magical incantation that Rapunzel sang all those years ago that kept her youth as she brushed through their hair. Gothel had done this for years; each night she would alternate between her children and have them sing as she brushed. Some nights were worse than others, the ones that were the worst was when she'd get violently angry.

"I'm so sick, of being locked up in this fucking tower with you and your sick fucking mind. We're not fucking Rapunzel, Mother."

Giovanni motioned to him and his siblings

"And there's no fucking flower."

Giovanni was 12 as he stood in front of his mother. He had just gotten his second growth spurt, he stands now just at eye level.

Giovanni was going to speak again before there was a loud crack.

The sound of skin hitting skin.

It was Mother Gothel's open palm against Giovanni's hand

Johnny and Ginny wince, and Johnny grapples onto his older sister, hiding his face.

"You will never speak to me like that, Maggio, never."

Gothel scolded, but her voice was calm, eerily calm. Like a calm breeze blowing through a motionless woods.

Giovanni stared into his mother's eyes. He felt how his cheek stung, and how tears stabbed at his eyes, threatening to break from their invisible barrier and fall down his cheeks.

Giovanni stood there, vacant. Like a statue, his expression, frozen, for what felt life forever

Ginny and Johnny looked on in fear of what would happen next.

Mother seemed to come to after what felt like an eternity. Her face morphed into one of horror and disbelief.

"My poor child, what have you led me to do."

She soothed, as she embraced Giovanni, holding his head against her. She pulled his face away before she spoke again. She was inspecting

"I could have damaged your beauty, child. I wouldn't know what to do with myself. You see why you should lead me to anger, child."

Her tone sounded like that of a concerned mother but her words betrayed that tone.

Giovanni stared blankly, his countenance held no expression. He wasn't there, not mentally, he still stood vacantly.

"Come now child, let's go to the reflection room."

The reflection room was a room in the tower that was small, damp, and cold. There was only a mirror and the purpose of the room was to stare at your reflection and think whenever you did something that mother didn't like.

There was never any way of knowing how long you'd have to be in there.

When Giovanni heard the mention of that hellish room he broke from his mothers hold.

"No."

He spoke, his voice sounded distant, he still wasn't truly there.

"No."

He spoke again as he started to back away.

"Child, stop this foolishness."

Gothel grabbed his wrist and started to drag him towards the room.

"NO !"

Giovanni screeched as he fell to the floor and began struggling away from his mothers grasp.

"Giovanni, stop struggling. You need to reflect."

Gothel scolded as she continued to tug at him.

Giovanni struggled out old his mothers hold and ran.

He ran down the stairs and to his room. He slammed the door and quickly looked around for some form of barricade. He frantically searched his dilapidated room and moved his run down dresser (that was missing most of its original drawers) in front of his door.

At this age, Giovanni was already a master escapist (being locked up in a tower, it was a skill that was valuable). He made his way quickly to his closest and pulled out a small box that held the tools that aided him in his escape.

He took the rope from the box and secured it to something in his room. By the time he was able to tie the knot (his hands were shaking too badly to tie correctly the first time), mother had made it to his room, and was banging on the door.

"Open the door Maggio."

She yelled. Giovanni moved faster, he grabbed his shoes and threw them out of the window before frantically making his way to the window himself and beginning to scale the side of the tower he was forced to call home.

When his feet hit the ground, he hastily put on his shoes and began to run.

There were only two people for him to run to, Mal or Sarah of Spades...

Giovanni began to run in the direction of Bargain Castle.