#it totally hasn’t taken over my life

[sunnysparklerr]

My writing class pre assignment: “so what is the BEST story you’ve seen/read/played”

Me: so there’s an Angel and a demon -

[readwritealldayallnight]

(part of the ‘Wife at First Sight Series’)

For the first time in a long time, Simon feels as if he’s walking on eggshells

He’s 6’4”, easily over 200 pounds of bulking muscle, strikes fear into the heart of each and every enemy he comes across (should they live to tell the tale that is), and yet he feels as though he’s tiptoeing, practically dancing around the issue he refuses to address

Yet you make him feel this way

It’s been months now, of this dance you still haven’t realized you’re apart of, shining on centre stage under the constant spotlight of Simon Riley’s attention, rather than one of the background performers as you seem to believe

He feels as though he’s done everything he can to get the point across to you, other than literally getting down on one knee and asking you those four special words he can’t seem to get himself to speak out loud

As easy as it is to pretend you two truly are husband and wife ‘til death do you part, he’s instead having to watch you leave base in exchange for your lonely flat each night, reminded of the fact that he’s not ballsy enough to just come out and say it to you

You make the Lieutenant nervous for fucks sake, something he hasn’t truly felt in so long he’s grasping for straws, searching for a life raft in these uncharted waters to help him stay afloat

That’s part of why he’s so confused when Gaz finally joins him and Soap in the gun range, landing a friendly smack across the taller man’s broad shoulders, saying something about how he’s ‘really happy for you LT, finally properly asked her, aye?’

“What are you goin’ on about?” Ghost practically grunts out, readjusting the weapon against his shoulder as he glances through the scope of his gun, only partly interested in what the Sergeants answer is, that is until he hears him mention your name

“Just saw her at her desk, talkin’ about how she has a wedding this weekend-” Gaz has barely finished his sentence before Ghost is whipping his skull clad head around, shoving his weapon into Soap’s arms, and beelining out of the armoury towards you, leaving a pair of chuckling Sergeants behind him

They’ve never seen their Lieutenant so whipped before. And the fact that you don’t even know you have this beast of a man wrapped around your dainty little finger makes it all the more entertaining for them

They totally haven’t taken bets on how long it takes for him to break and finally confess his feelings, and Price definitely didn’t put money down on it either

Ghost may as well float into the room on a cloud he’s feeling so overjoyed at the idea of finding you sat at your desk all pretty, chit chatting away with colleagues about the wedding you’ve finally realized he intends to give you, taking all the pressure off of him

Instead, he rounds the corner and overhears the last tidbits of your conversation, pretending as though his stomach doesn’t drop out of him and onto the floor when he realizes you’re telling your desk mate about your sisters wedding this weekend

He should’ve know better, it wouldn’t be that easy

“-not that I’m embarrassed to go without someone. That I don’t care so much about.” He hears you explain, failing to have noticed him behind you quite yet. “God knows it’s been ages since I’ve gone on an actual date anyways. But this is the first time I’m a bridesmaid, and my sister keeps saying I’m apparently the only bridesmaid without a date-”

“Well aren’t you going to bring your husband?” Your colleague asks, cutting you off. Just like everyone else on base, she knows thinks you are in fact Mrs Riley, for all intents and purposes. You open your mouth to correct her and tell her you don’t have a husband, when a deep voice comes up behind you and speaks first.

“‘Course she is.” Ghost replies for you, coming to stand behind you in your chair, sneaking a gloved hand onto your shoulder to offer a slight squeeze of acknowledgment. You lean your head back to glance up at him, offering a soft smile that melts his heart more and more each time he’s lucky enough to see it, to be the reason for it. Sensing she’s now the odd one out, your coworker quietly excuses herself and goes to find someone else to talk water cooler gossip with.

“Oh Ghost! Hi!” You say, reaching your own hand up to squeeze his in return, smile widening when you notice the crinkles next to his eyes that you hope mean he’s smiling as well under the mask. “Oh, you really don’t have to. I mean- I wouldn’t want you to waste a day off just to sit through a stranger’s wedding for who knows how many hours. I barely want to go.”

You try to joke about it, but this really has been causing you unnecessary stress. Your sister apparently doesn’t have enough wedding planning on her plate as it is, seeing as she has enough time to constantly pester you about whether you’ve secured a date yet or not, despite your answer always being no. She knows it’s been forever since you’ve dated anyone seriously, and that finding a date will be more of a chore than showing up without one and enduring your relative comments and questions.

Each time you told her no though, your mind wandered to the tall, dark, muscular man who liked to call himself your husband, imagining the looks on your family’s face if you were to show up with Ghost on your arm. But you never bothered to ask him, not wanting to force him into extending his kindness and charade of a happily married couple outside of work hours.

“I’d be with you for those ‘who knows how many hours?’” Ghost asks, quoting you, watching as you offer him a simple nod in return. “Then that’s the farthest thing from a waste o’ time in my books, love.”

As simple as that, the plan was set. Ghost would be your date to the wedding that weekend.

Now, Ghost was used to not having very much to look forward to in life. He could look forward to a hot shower occasionally, look forward to good pub food instead of mess hall dinners, look forward to a chance to sleep in a little later, simpler things of the sort.

But when you came into his life, he was suddenly looking forward to equally simple, but different things. He looked forward to reading your cute replies to his good morning and good night texts (he still never misses a single one, all these months later), looked forward to seeing your sweet smile greeting him when you arrived to work, looked forward to hearing your pleased hum when you took your first sip of whatever drink he prepared you that day. Essentially, he looked forward to seeing you.

Now though, he feels as if this weekend cannot come soon enough, finding himself practically giddy he’s looking forward to spending more time with you off base so much, feeling like a kid who’s itching to get their hands on their new Christmas gifts.

When he arrives at your flat almost a half hour too early (he just couldn’t wait anymore lovie, you can’t blame the poor man), and you open the door to greet him, he doesn’t think it’s fair to compare this to a gift under the Christmas tree.

No. It’s more like he’s won the goddamn lottery.

Standing before him, is the most beautiful, breathtaking vision he’s ever laid eyes upon in all his years. He half wonders if his knees are legitimately beginning to wobble where he stands, he feels so weak in the knees as he gazes upon you in your doorway. It’s still just you, the same woman he’s been seeing every day and dreaming of each night.

But you don’t look like you have every day these past months. Your hair is styled differently, your make up is a little more done up, and the thing that’s really got his mind reeling, is that instead of your regular work attire, you’re wearing a dress so stunning he half wonders whether or not you are the bride this evening. There’s no possible way someone so beautiful is expected to stand on the sidelines tonight, expected to be anyone apart from the star of the show, the centre of his the world.

You don’t take much notice of the way Ghost fails to greet you properly, standing outside your door and practically gawking at you, seeing as you’re preoccupied doing the same to him. His usual fatigues and black everything have been swapped out for black dress pants, a white button up shirt (your eyes definitely do not linger on the top three buttons being left undone, nope, not at all) and a black blazer, matching black surgical mask in exchange for the typical skeleton mask.

You two blushing, bumbling idiots in secret love manage to pull yourselves together enough to make the drive up to the venue, the car ride filled with laughter, stories, and too many stolen glances to count, each of you wishing you could pull the car over somewhere and jump each others bones instead.

At the venue, you go through the obligatory introductions with your family, simply so they couldn’t say you didn’t say hello at least once throughout the busy night, only partially intent on ignoring them later on. They’re left understandably stunned at the mention that the man beside you is your husband, and when your family members begin unloading question after question, the two of you manage to find a quick excuse each time to dash off, giggling and holding onto the other as you weave the growing crowd of guests, all too proud of your little inside joke.

You regretfully tell him that you’ll have to leave him to sit alone throughout the ceremony, though he insists you shouldn’t worry about it, lifting your spirits momentarily when he jokes that you should focus more on not tripping during your walk down the aisle, before the both of you are left bright red in the face at hearing him talking about you walking down an aisle, as if you don’t pretend to be married every day to begin with.

He truly doesn’t mind having to sit on the tiny foldable chairs that make up the seating for the ceremony, it’s only a small portion of the evening after all. And besides, his eyes certainly aren’t on the couple reciting their vows up at the altar. No, his gaze is on one person and one person only. From the moment the music kicked in and pairs of bridesmaids and groomsmen stepped out to walk the aisle in their matching attire and matching smiles, his eyes have been locked on you, just as yours have been locked on his.

His size certainly helped you pick him out of the crowd with more ease, finding him amongst the familiar and unfamiliar faces instantly, as though gravity was pulling your gaze in his direction alone. Later on, neither of you could even correctly point out amongst the groomsmen whose arm you were holding on to as you walked, attention only focused on each other.

Even as you stood up front, listening to your sister and new brother in law profess their love for the other, you tried your best to appear as though you were paying them your full attention, considering you were standing up at the front and all. But it was as though you could literally feel Ghost’s eyes on you the entire ceremony, unable to stop your eyes from straying towards him more times than was surely appropriate, feeling the heat of a blush creep over your cheeks every time you saw how devastatingly handsome he was today.

By the time the newlyweds are marching back down the aisle past their cheering loved ones, wedding party in tow, your eyes are no longer pretending to look anywhere other than at him. And Simon is looking back at you, but his mind is growing preoccupied, thinking of how he can finally ensure you’ll let him walk you down the aisle now.

Because in the glove compartment of the very car he drove you up here in, only inches away from your knees the entire drive, he’s tucked away a small little box, containing the exact ring you chose from the jeweller all those weeks ago. He carries it with him everywhere, eager for the moment, the opportunity to be lucky enough to truly call himself your husband and slip the band over your finger as his wife.

And he’s decided that tonight is the night he tells you.

The night he tells you this has never been a joke to him, never been anything apart from what he really wants to be true from the moment he saw you.

To call you his wife.

[hazbinwhoree]

Guardian Angel

Part 1/3 Part 2

A/N: Starting a series where f!reader is the child of a demon and a human and Adam’s been tasked with keeping an eye on her. Please leave requests!

“It has recently come to my attention that a demon and a human have reproduced,” Sera announced. 

Adam cocked an eyebrow. “No shit. For real?”

“The spawn is already grown. So far she hasn’t caused any trouble so I do not see the need for actions further than simply keeping an eye on her.”

“Okay and what does that have to do with me?” Adam asked, taking a long sip from his drink.

“You’re going to watch her.”

Adam spit out his drink. “Sorry, what?”

“You’re going to be her guardian angel,” Sera smirked. Adam’s jaw dropped idignantly. “Do I have to?” He whined.

“Yes.”

That’s how Adam found himself on Earth, stalking some random demon/human hybrid.

Although despite his apathy, she wasn’t just some random, a demon/human hybrid was almost unheard of. She was the third documented instance of that happening.

But as far as he could tell, she led a boring, painfully bleak life. Adam almost felt bad for her. She seemed really depressed. But his job was getting boring. Her routine was always the same. Work, sleep, eat, shower. It seemed that the hybrid was completely unaware of her origin and the powers she possessed. It made Adam’s job easy. Easy and boring.

He started fucking with her, using his ability to be invisible to the human eye in order to fuck with things in her apartment to mess with her head.

One day, while her roommate was out, she stood in the middle of her room, staring at nothing. “Come out you annoying fuck!” She called out. It took Adam by surprise. “I know someone is here,” she hissed. “And you’ve been fucking with me, and it’s pissing me off, and I know you’re here right now, so show yourself!”

Adam debated for a moment. Sera had just said to watch over her, she’d never said it had to be no contact. In fact, Adam was pretty sure Sera would prefer he try to bring the hybrid to the light, but she chose the wrong angel for that task.

Tired of watching her while she was unawares, Adam let himself appear to her. He appeared behind her, just to fuck with her one more time. She turned and jumped, and Adam snickered. To his surprise, she recovered rather quickly.

“What the fuck are you?”

Adam was once again taken aback, and then offended. “I’m an angel, babes, could you not tell by the halo and wings?”

“Well you look like a demon," she replied.

Adam scoffed indignantly. “Fuck you.”

“Fuck you! Who are you and why have you been following me?”

“I’m Adam. Like, first man ever, Adam.”

“Wow, I’m so impressed.”

“And who the fuck are you, bitch?”

“Shouldn’t you know that since you’ve been following me?”

Adam was seething. “Yeah well I didn’t give enough of a shit to remember your name when Sera told me.”

The hybrid narrowed her eyes. Adam narrowed his. The attitude on this bitch! He hadn’t seen such life in her in the weeks he’d been watching her. He definitely didn’t enjoy seeing her come to life like this. Totally not (he did).

“Well you might as well tell me cause you’re stuck with me now that you can see me.” Adam smirked.

She huffed. “(Name). I’m (Name). Why am I stuck with you?”

“Because my job is to follow you, babe, orders from the Seraphim herself.”

“But why?”

Adam thought about fucking with her for a moment, before spitting out the truth. “Because you’re a Cambion, and Cambions are dangerous.”

(Name) blinked at him. “The fuck is a Cambion?”

“A demon/human love child.”

“What, so you’re saying one of my parents is a demon and I’m like, half a demon?”

“Basically.”

They stood in silence for a moment while (Name) processed this information.

“So,” Adam broke the silence. “What’s for dinner?”

[moomine]

backwash II | daisuke

author's note: totally awesome people should check out part one as well ⍢ also, if you want to be part of a taglist for future updates feel free to reply or dm me! (cover image credit)

summary: (daisuke x f!reader) It's been a little over a month since the Tulpar departed on its 382-day long haul. Anya takes the reader aside to perform her monthly psych eval, where she discusses her experiences with her peers and life on the ship so far. After she's clear to go, she runs into Daisuke who's drawing in the lounge.

word count: 2,291

warnings: mild language? all characters are 18+

now playing: Radiohead - "Motion Picture Soundtrack"

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

EMPLOYEE STATEMENT 028—

I’m starting to feel more and more homesick. I miss my mom’s roast chicken. I miss swimming pools and the feeling of the breeze. I miss burning incense. I miss my friends. It hasn’t been that long since we left Earth, but I guess I just never considered how still outer space would be. How lonely I’d feel. The others have been nice, yeah. Especially Anya. And Daisuke. I get the feeling that Captain Curly is still warming up to me. I wonder if he’s ever taken on another apprentice before. I don’t know about Swansea, or Jimmy. They seem to tolerate me at best. But then again, those two kind of just tolerate everyone, except for maybe Captain Curly. It’s only been almost a month. I just have to keep my head. 

If mom were here she’d say: “Everything gets easier with time. Time and patience.”

DAY TWENTY-SEVEN—

“Everything okay, [Name]?” Anya asked in a gentle tone, gingerly placing a hand on the table in front of you.

Your shoulders tensed at the sound of her voice as it filled the otherwise silent lounge. You looked up at her, feeling the tension seemingly wash away by the sight of her face. She offered you an understanding smile, her tired features softened as she looked down at you.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. Just lost in thought, I guess,” you responded. 

You raised a hand to rub my eyes. It had been difficult to find sleep lately. The groaning of the ship was almost haunting at night. Laying in your bed, staring at the ceiling, you spent the few hours allotted for sleep thinking about Earth, about what laid just beyond the door to your room, about the ceaseless whining of steel and steam. About the next three hundred and fifty four days.

Anya nodded sympathetically, moving her hand from the table top to your shoulder blade. “It gets easier. I promise,” she paused as Jimmy and Curly entered the room, their voices loud and booming. “Are you ready for your psych eval?”

You nearly didn’t hear her over the sound of the other two. They were reminiscing, shouting stories back and forth of college parties, bar fights, and past lovers.

“As I’ll ever be,” you said with a timid grin. 

Anya nodded once more, motioning toward the door just past the kitchen space. You came to your feet and followed her until the two of you made it to her domain. The medical bay had become a safe haven for you. Over the past month, you gravitated toward Anya the most. She had been kind to you from the very beginning, almost sisterly. When there was no more work to be done, you often found yourself walking straight through the lounge and into her office. Anya didn’t mind. In fact, she had grown to rather enjoy the company.

She walked around the desk before taking a seat in her chair. Behind her was a wall of white shelves and cabinets with glass doors. Inside they held assorted medical supplies and books on psychology and basic clinical practice. To the right of her was a bulletin board, cluttered with posters, a calendar, pictures of her hometown, and notes and reminders. A number of Daisuke’s doodles had made it up as well, namely ‘Yimpy’, a rather horrible caricature of Jimmy. It was pretty realistic.

You sat across from her with your hands interlocked in a tight ball. “Same as last time, right?”

Anya grinned as she organized your file. “Yep, same as last time. Since it’s only your second evaluation, I’m going to go over it one more time. Is that okay with you?”

You nodded.

“Lovely,” she said with a soft hum. Tapping the papers into a neat pile against the desk, Anya glanced at you once more. Her eyes flickered from the page to you, you to the page as she read aloud. “I’m going to ask you a series of questions about your experience, relationships, and general well being during your time under contract with Pony Express. It is your responsibility to answer as truthfully as you feel comfortable and/or deem necessary. Your answers remain confidential unless you give reason to believe you are at risk of harming yourself or others. Do you have any questions?”

“No questions here,” you replied with a shake of your head.

“Perfect. Let’s get started. On a scale of one to ten, how confident do you feel in your capability to complete your work and responsibilities on a day to day basis?” Anya read.

“Maybe eight? I’m still getting a hold of some of the more technical aspects. The Tulpar is an older ship… I wasn’t exactly trained on her special quirks in school,” you said with a nervous laugh.

“You’ll catch on fast. You already have,” she reassured, jotting down your response with that sweet smile still on her face. “Okay, next question. You mentioned last time that you’ve been having difficulty sleeping, is that still a relevant cause for concern?”

“I don’t know if it’s that concerning. I think I’m just having a hard time getting used to the new environment. It’s been getting easier to fall asleep though,” you responded. A little, white lie.

“I’m happy to hear that, [Name]. Your rest is important. I remember not being able to sleep at all during my first haul. I spent all night just tossing and turning, reading my books if I could focus on them long enough. It’s normal, but from the sound of it, you’re doing a great job adjusting.” Her gaze softened as she spoke. It was clear that she had grown to care for you quite quickly, and you did the same for her. “Only a couple more left to go…”

Anya listened intently while you answered each of her questions, taking the time to write down key details of your responses. Between questions, the sound of her pen etching against the paper filled the room. As Anya wrapped up the second to last question, your eyes wandered to the evening window screen. The warm orange and reds of the artificial sunset made the room look like it was on fire. You looked back to your hands, reaching up to take a piece of your hair and twist it between two fingers.

“All right,” Anya spoke up. “Last but not least, how do you feel about your relationships with the rest of the crew? Is there anything I should know about in particular?”

“No, I don’t think so. Everyone has treated me fine enough. Other than you, I’m still trying to get to know everyone better,” you said, still focused on your hair.

Another sympathetic smile graced Anya’s lips as she looked over at you. She knew how it felt to feel slightly out of place. “Look, I’m technically not supposed to tell you this, so you have to keep it a secret. Okay?” Anya let out a quiet laugh as you nodded quickly. She watched amused as you dropped your strand of hair and leaned in closer. “Daisuke mentioned during his eval that he wanted to get to know you more. Maybe you could try talking to him? You two have more in common than you might think.”

You looked down at your lap again, biting at the inside of your cheek. “Yeah, okay. Maybe I will.”

“Well, you’re all set. You’re free to go.” Anya closed the file and tucked it away alongside the others in her desk. “Thank you for your time, [Name]. I assume I’ll see you here tomorrow. Same time as usual?”

“Same time as usual,” you echoed, beaming as you got out of your chair and left the room.

From the hallway leading to the medical bay, you could tell that the lounge was quiet now. Curly and Jimmy must have wandered off elsewhere. It would have been completely silent if it weren’t for the subtle sound of pencil scratching coming from deeper within. As you entered the room you noticed Daisuke, hunched over the table as he sketched something in his sketchbook. Completely oblivious. You leaned against the doorway and watched from a distance for a moment, admiring as he tucked a tuft of fried brown hair behind his ear. 

“What are you drawing?” you questioned.

Daisuke jumped in his seat like a cat that had been snuck up on. His eyes shot to you, the surprise he felt immediately quelling into a tenuous excitement. He hastily closed his sketchbook —almost like he was hiding something— and smoothed out his hair. His mouth broke out into a wide, infectious smile, the gap in his two front teeth a thin ravine and the dimples on either side of his mouth tiny sinkholes.

“Me? Oh, y’know, just doodling,” he said, leaning back in his chair as if trying to act casual. “Where ya been? I couldn’t find- I mean, I didn’t see you back in the cockpit.”

“Psych eval.” You pointed over your shoulder with your thumb as you pushed yourself from the doorframe. “Can I see it?” you asked, walking up to the table and taking the seat across from him.

“Uhh… see what?” Daisuke asked in turn, voice coy and simultaneously flustered.

“Your doodles,” you responded with a laugh. “Only if you’re okay with that, obviously.”

“Oh! I mean, yeah. That’s like, totally fine. But, fair warning, they’re not that incredible or anything.” Reluctantly, Daisuke passed you his sketchbook. He looked rather bashful, cheeks slightly flushed and smile wavering.

“Hey, that’s not fair. I’ve seen your stuff on Anya’s corkboard. You’re really good.” You took the sketchbook in your hands, looking down at the cover of it. It was absolutely littered in a random assortment of stickers. Only through the few and far between gaps could you see that it was once a pure black. It looked much cooler now decorated with the various games, bands, and whatever else Daisuke liked. “Are you sure you don’t mind me looking? Again, it’s perfectly fine if you changed your mind.”

“Nah, it’s all good. Just don’t expect too much, ‘kay?” he replied, running a hand through his hair.

“No expectations,” you agreed.

You turned over the cover, revealing the first page. In red ink you read ‘if found please return to Daisuke, thank youuuuuu’, alongside it was a doodle of himself looking particularly grateful. Or maybe he was pleading. You chuckled under your breath and began flipping through the rest of the pages. Each one was filled with sketches and those increasingly familiar doodles of predominantly other people. Friends, maybe family, and characters from the different games he liked. His work wasn’t quite realistic, but not the most stylized either. Rather, it seemed to be a perfect mix of the two. Something entirely unique to him. To Daisuke.

The deeper you got into the book you started to spy familiar faces. Captain Curly, Swansea, Anya, even Jimmy, but mostly you. You glanced up at him, seeing that he was seemingly avoiding eye contact with you all together. His hand was still tangled within his hair, head turned to the side, and lips knitted into a fine line. That mole —high on his left cheek— stared at you more than his own eyes.

When you finally got to the last page you realized he hadn’t been doodling at all. Instead, there before you, in soft pencil sketching, was a portrait of you that Daisuke had drawn from memory. It wasn’t perfect, but it was incredibly detailed nevertheless. You held up the book, taking in the details with a look of awe on your face. He captured all of your little imperfections —the tilt of your eyes, the quirk in your smile, all of it. 

“Daisuke, these are actually so good!” you exclaimed, setting the book down and passing it back to him.

“You… you really think so?” He let out a breath of relief, finally looking at you again. “Man, I thought you would find them totally weird. I’ve been too scared to show anyone else but Anya.”

“Why would I think they’re weird?” you asked.

“Shit, I dunno…” Daisuke trailed off.

You shook your head. “You’re really talented.”

“I- Thank you,” he breathed. Daisuke’s face softened as you looked at him from across the table. The flush in his cheeks was barely noticeable, a fair pink dusting the peaks of his features. “Hey, I noticed you brought a Walkman on board with you. I never thought I’d actually see one of those things in the flesh.”

“Oh, yeah,” you laughed lightly. “It was a gift from my mom. It’s outdated as hell, but I’ve got a bunch of custom tapes back in my room. We should totally listen to them sometime.”

“Are you kidding? Dude, I’d love to-”

“Daisuke!” Swansea called from down the hall, cutting him off. He rounded the corner, sticking his head into the lounge with a sweaty brow. “There you are. Get your ass up, break time’s over. We’ve got work to finish up before dinner.”

Daisuke looked noticeably disappointed at the sight of Swansea. “But I-”

“No ‘buts’. C’mon now, I don’t have all day,” Swansea said with a huff before he turned around, walking back toward the utility room.

“Coming,” Daisuke sighed. He stood up, tucking his sketchbook under his arm with a slight frown. “Guess I’ll see ya later, [Name].”

“Yeah! I’ve got to show you some of my mixes, remember?” you responded sweetly, smiling up at him.

Daisuke nodded enthusiastically. As he left the room, he adopted a pep in his step. A smile was glued to his face as he beamed down the hall. The human embodiment of sunshine in that moment.

[spacedace]

Here have some snippets of the AU that’s taken over my brain (featuring Elle unintentionally dunking on both of Bruce’s identities, Clark realizing he passed his taste in partners on to his son, a bit of pre/unaware that they are dating Super Serious Chaos, and some blink-and-you-miss-it background Enemies to Lovers Dick/Dan)

---

“Sorry, who’s Bruce Wayne?”

The room when quiet. All heads turned to look at Elle at the end of the table. Bruce didn’t visibly react, but Clark could make out the subtle indication of disbelief that his old friend was feeling - that they all were feeling at the interpreter’s question. Elle, suddenly aware she had the full room’s attention, had the look of someone who realized they’d said something wrong, but didn’t know what.

“You’re kidding.” John said, “You know Bruce Wayne. Everyone knows Bruce Wayne.”

Elle blinked. “I don’t.” She glanced from face to face, “Is he like a big deal? Does he work here or something? I haven’t been around that long so I might have missed him.”

It took every bit of self control Clark had not to laugh. His voice still came out a bit strangled from the effort as he offered, “No he doesn’t work here.” If Bruce was the type to do so in uniform, he’d be kicking Clark under the table.

“You live in Gotham. You have to know Bruce Wayne.” Barry said, voice going a bit high with growing bewilderment. “Mega ba-jillionair. CEO of Wayne Tech? Richest man in Gotham - in the world? Has like a hundred kids?”

Their interpreter’s nose scrunched. “So he’s like…in one of those fundamentalist cults obsessed with having a bunch of kids or something?”

Bruce actually twitched at that. The sound of utter disgust in Elle’s voice at the concept, the complete and total lack of any kind of recognition she had for the single most famous non-crime or crime-fighting related person in the city that she lived in, she truly had no idea who they were talking about. Clark had to get a recording of the room’s security feed, Lois would love this. Oh, wait no, Bruce’s kids. Maybe if he was fast enough he could text Dick to get there ASAP so he could see it all in person before it was over.

“No! Nothing like that! He adopted them - well most of them.” Barry tried to explain, looking utterly lost as he turned from Elle to the rest of them and back again. “You’re messing with us right? This is like a joke?”

Elle shook her head, looking just as lost as Barry did. “I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

“Do you know Dick Grayson?”

“I know of an officer Grayson who is a dick. Total tool. He’s been making my brother’s Dan’s life miserable for like a year now. Pretty sure not who you’re talking about though.”

“Jason Todd.”

“The library goon?”

“Tim Drake.”

“Sounds like a Dark Wing Duck character.”

“Cassandra Cain.”

“Isn’t that the author that started out writing incest Harry Potter fanfic?”

“Duke Thomas?”

“What’s he a Duke of?”

Barry snapped his fingers, pointing emphatically at Elle with a look of victory on his masked face as he shouted, “Damian Wayne!”

Damian, who had at that moment just walked into the meeting room with Jon at his heels paused in his place just behind Elle. He did pretty well at hiding his surprise at Barry seemingly shouting his civilian name and pointing at him upon walking in. Though the tense line of his shoulders suggested that if Barry was actually revealing his secret identity without warning or permission, there would be blood.

Stella Nightingale, unaware of the almost-kinda identity reveal going on around her, tilted her head in confusion at the speedster. “I’m assuming he’s related to that Bruce Wayne guy?”

“They’re all related to Bruce Wayne.” John said with open amusement now. The Green Lantern had given up on the research entirely, watching the entire debacle with a growing smirk he kept casting towards Bruce. “That man’s face is plastered absolutely everywhere in the news. How do you not know who he is?”

“If Lois Lane hasn’t written about him he can’t be that important.” Elle said with a casual certainty of one speaking a core tenant of their beliefs. Clark’s opinion of the young woman - already quite high considering her ferocious loyalty and fondness to Jon - rose sharply.

“You’re read the Daily Planet?” Clark asked, warmth curling in his chest at the mention of his wife and her work.

“I read articles by Lois Lane.” Elle said promptly, “I tried reading some articles that Kent guy she partners with sometimes wrote on his own but I couldn’t get past his writing style. Dude sounds like he’s from outer space with his word choice sometimes.”

Bruce, looking far too pleased, gave a quiet and not terribly convincing cough as Clark tried to will his soul back into his body.

It was going to be a long day.

—

“You are at least aware of who Gotham’s vigilantes are, yes?” Damian asked with a raised brow behind his mask.

Elle shrugged, giving him a sly smile. “The relevant ones.”

Clark tried to hide his short laugh with a feigned cough. Elle at least was distracted enough with Jon and Damian’s attention to notice but Bruce was giving him a look over the tablet he was trying - and undoubtedly failing - to review files on.

Jon grinned eagerly from his spot beside Elle as he asked, “Aren’t they all relevant to you? You live in Gotham.”

“I live in Crime Alley.” Elle corrected, bumping his shoulder with hers. “We have different standards of relevancy there.”

“So what are the relevant ones then?” Clark asked, pointedly ignoring Bruce’s burning stare. They’d get back to the research. Eventually. Finding out if the Gothamite who had been spending all her free time with Phoenix and Flamebird for the past year and a half was as oblivious to her city’s heroes as she was its celebrities was too entertaining a notion to pass up.

“Phoenix, obviously.” She grinned cheekily at Damian across the table, ticking names off her fingers as she continued. “Red Hood. Spoiler. Uh…Orphan?” She trailed off, forehead scrunching in concentrated thought.

“That’s can’t be all the ones you know.” Jon gaped, eyes sparkling with amusement as he glanced over to were Bruce was seated, not five feet away before turning back to watch Elle try to rack her brain for any more Gotham vigilantes. Clark could see the moment that the words are taken as a challenge as Elle sat up and looked more determined.

“No, shut up, I know more. Uh…there’s the one, um Red Sparrow? It’s another bird one with red name, I’m pretty sure. And the one with the blue - fuck I should know his name. Nightjar? Wasn’t Nightingale I would have remembered that…shit, dude threw up on our couch once I should remember his name -“

“Nightwing threw up on your couch?”

“Nightwing! That’s the bitch! He got poisoned or something and Dan drug him to our place to patch him up since Doc Thompkins’ clinic was closed.”

Clark shared a look with Bruce and Damian. Dick had failed to mention that little event. Clark could see Bruce reaching for his wrist computer, undoubtedly typing out a message his eldest about what he’d just heard - possibly another to Alfred if he was feeling like pulling out the big guns.

At the other end of the table Elle ticked Nightwing off with a nod, even as Jon squawked that it shouldn’t count since he’d given her the name, “Then there’s…uh…oh! Harley Quinn!”

“Harley Quinn does not count.”

“She beat up a guy trying to mug me last week and got me a hot chocolate afterwards, she totally counts!”

“Someone tried to mug you?”

“Crime Alley, Nix, if someone doesn’t try to mug me while I’m out I get worried that I missed Hood calling in a Street Clear for something big.”

“We’re going to circle back on that later.” Jon said, sharing a pointed glance with Damian. It looked like young Miss Nightingale was going to be getting escorted to and from the Watchtower from now on.

Ah, Clark mused, falling head over heels for someone with no understanding of the concept of self-preservation and a stubborn determination to run straight into the heart of danger without a second thought. It brought back such fond memories. Of both Lois and Bruce. And Diana. And - Hmm. Kara might have been right. Clark might have a type.

Watching the three at the other end of the table and taking them in, Clark realized he might have passed his taste in partners on to his son. Well, at least he’ll be able to give Jon some advise on how to handle the heart attacks Damian and Elle will inevitably give him.

“Harley Quinn doesn’t count. You got any more?”

Elle rolled her eyes, muttering about Harley totally counts, before leaning back in her chair. “I think I’m out. I know there’s more but,” She gave a shrug, “I’m tapped out. Those are all the ones I can think of.”

It was, surprisingly, Bruce that spoke up at that declaration, a slant of amusement to his lips as he asked, “No one else comes to mind?”

Elle waved him off, attention turning to the mountain of alien script they needed her to translate for them. It was the reason she was even there rather than in her office trying to translate whatever incredibly dangerous magic tomb JL Dark had dropped off without accidentally summoning a demon or ending hte world in the process. J’onn was right, they really should give her a raise.“That’s all I got.” She said with a sigh, “Like I said, I know the relevant ones.”

“Hn.”

Twenty minutes of shared looks of amusement and suppressed laughter later Elle’s head shot up, a look of wide eyed embarrassment on her face. “Oh my god.”

“There it is.”

“About time Nightingale, I was starting to be concerned about your mental faculties.”

“Shut up, this so embarrassing!”

“Don’t sweat it kid, we all have our moments.”

“I can’t believe I forgot Signal.”

“What.”

---

Context of this snippet if anyone is interested:

This is actually the same AU as the Steph & Jason sibling bonding Anger Management snippet from a bit ago (I’m calling it my Ghosts in Gotham AU in scrivener so I guess that’s what I’ll call it here lol). This time focused on Elle and her misadventures as a Totally Normal Civilian (TM) working for the Justice League with her two besties Jon & Damian (none of them realize yet that they’ve been dating for months).

No idea when this is supposed to take place in terms of timeline with the other snippet, but kinda vibing the idea that while Steph & Jason are having a heart to heart on a rooftop over their shared background and Jason’s future as a dad, Elle is up in the Watchtower telling Bruce Wayne to his face that she has no idea who he is and forgetting Batman is a Gotham vigilante while he’s sitting at the same table as her.

Anyway, this AU has taken over my life. Expect more nonsense to come lol

[wannabeschyulersister]

where’s that man who’d throw blankets over my barbed wire?

*another angsty carmy fic coming right up*

“Ma’am? I’m sorry but we will need the table if your guest hasn’t arrived yet,” the waiter told you. You could tell he felt embarrassed to have to practically kick you out after being stood up.

You set the nice white napkin that had been on your lap on the empty plate in front of you, “I understand. Thanks for keeping me company.”

The waiter helped you put your coat back on and you placed a nice tip on the table before walking out. It felt so humiliating to sit at that table for the past hour alone.

Carmen forgot your anniversary.

You had been perfectly fine celebrating your two year anniversary with him in your nice apartment but he was the one that wanted to go all out. He chose the fancy French restaurant and made the reservation.

He was also the one that didn’t show up.

At first, you began to panic, thinking that something had happened to him on his way to the restaurant. You must’ve texted him a dozen times. When you checked his location, you saw that he was at The Bear.

There’s no way that he would forget your anniversary. Right?

Well, he did.

You walked until you were able to find a cab. Part of you wanted to confront Carmen at The Bear but you didn’t want to make a scene. Despite how mad you were at him, you respected his place of business.

Instead of going there, you went to the apartment that you shared with Carmen to wait for him. You didn’t even bother changing out of the red dress that specifically bought for that evening when you made it home. Taking off your coat, you placed it on the hook and sat on the couch.

It was an hour later when you heard the jingle of keys and the front door open and close. “Babe? You here?”

You didn’t answer him as he walked into the living room.

He set his phone and keys down on the coffee table in front of you, “Hey, what are you all dressed up for?”

“Our anniversary dinner that was two hours ago.” You answered coldly.

Carmen froze as it dawned on him that he forgot, “Fuck. Babe, I’m so fuckin’ sorry. Things have been so hectic at the restaurant these last few days and it totally slipped my mind. My phone died a few hours ago. I’m so sorry.”

He sat down next to you and tried to grab your hand. You moved it out of his grasp. “I waited for you for an hour, Carmen. It was so embarrassing. The waiter made me leave because they needed the table. How could you forget?”

“I told you. It seemed like everything that could go wrong did today. We had three waitstaff out with the flu-“

You cut him off, “Syd could’ve taken care of things for one night so that you could go out with your girlfriend! Aren’t I important too?”

Carmen looked like that question pissed him off, “Are you seriously askin’ me that fuckin’ question?”

You stood up from the couch needing some space from him, “Yes, I am because this isn’t the first time! How many times have you had to reschedule our plans? How many days do I barely see you? We’ve been together for two years, Carmen and I feel like we are just two strangers at this point.”

“Why haven’t you said anything then if you feel that way?”

“I’ve tried to have date nights and I’ve even stopped by The Bear to see if you can go on a coffee break. You always turn me down because something more important is pressing.” You’d been dying to have this conversation with him for some time now.

After countless times of letting things go, you were blurting out everything that you’d want to tell him. It had all been weighing so heavily on you lately. You could feel it draining you.

“(Y/n), I inherited a mess from Michael. I had to look after everyone’s jobs and-“

You interrupted him again, “I’m not saying that you have to choose me or the restaurant, Carmen. That would be incredibly selfish of me. But…. it’s like you’re out building this life for yourself and I’m just here hoping that you give me an ounce of attention.”

“You’re making it sound like our relationship is horrible. I thought that we were doing good.”

That almost hurt you more than being stood up on your anniversary. He thought that things were good? He hadn’t noticed that the two of you were so incredibly distant?

“Things haven’t been good in a long time. When we first started dating, you were present and it seemed like you’d do anything to spend time with me.”

“That was before we remodeled the restaurant. I had more time but now-“

“Now, you’re too busy for me.”

He shook his head, “I’m not, (Y/n). I just had more time back then. Now, it’s all on me. I’m stressed out.”

“I don’t want to add to your stress, Carmen.”

“Wh-what are you trying to say?” He stood up and made his way closer to you. You could tell that he was anxious about where the direction of this conversation was going.

“I’m not happy. I haven’t been for a while. I’ve tried to make things better but I can’t do it alone. I deserve to be with someone who I don’t have to beg to want to be with me.”

“(Y/n), I don’t want to be without you. I’ll start coming home earlier and I’ll uh have Sydney and Marcus start taking some more responsibility. I will-“

“And in a month when things are super crazy at The Bear because of the holidays? We’re back in this situation again. What kind of promises will you make then?”

Carmen seemed confused, “Do you not want to work on things?”

“A month ago, hell even a few weeks ago, I would’ve said yes, but I’m tired, Carmen. Tonight felt like it was the last straw. Sitting alone, you not answering your phone, it was embarrassing and so painful. I love you so much. But I think for the both of us, it’ll be better if we weren’t together.”

“I don’t want us to break up, (Y/n). I love you.” Carmen said softly.

You pulled him closer. He rested his head against your shoulder, “We can both focus on ourselves. I’m so proud of everything that you’ve done. You deserve all of the praise that is coming your way.”

You wanted to appear strong but on the inside you were breaking as well. There was a point in time where you imagined spending the rest of your life with Carmen Berzatto.

Now, there was a strong possibility that he wouldn’t be in your future. Were you making the right decision?

It might’ve felt like you weren’t in the moment. You just wanted to feel wanted and happy and with someone who couldn’t get enough of you. Carmen was that man at first. Things changed for the better and for the worse.

“I hate that I took you for granted. I will regret it for the rest of my life.” You felt him kiss your neck softly.

“I’ll still be here if you need me. You know that right?”

He nodded as you both stood there wrapped around each other saying your goodbyes without words.

[lovepookie]

♡︎ how enha would ask for a kiss!

♡︎ disclaimer: i am passive-aggressive and sarcastic, so please know im joking!! also i love these men lets bfr 😔

♡︎ warnings: cursing, kissing, suggestive in jake’s and kind of in jay’s?, please lmk if i missed anything!

heeseung ༉‧₊˚.

hmmm okay heeseung! the devil himself. 😣

i think it’d be un-natural for him to ask for a kiss,, like he’d easily just lean in with a smile and kiss you—and you’d let him!

but, I feel like if he does ask beforehand, it’s because he’s doing it on purpose to catch you off gaurd.

like if Jay meticulously thinks about asking before doing so,, this dude would just do it out of nowhere

like simply because you two are having fun type shit.

you’re mid laugh and he’d just stare at you like….my god…that’s the love of my life. :((

“Oh my god, you’re so stupid!” You’d laugh out, hitting him on his shoulder because he sent you a cheesy grin after saying something really idiotic LMAO

he’d grab your hand as you hit him and wouldn’t let it go, urging you closer so you don’t get away

he’d watch you smile and analyze the way your balled fist feels gainst him when you hit him playfully——and he most definitely see’s the way the sides of your eyes crinkle in happiness.

he’s just blown away 🥹

he prolly has a ~this person is all mine~ type of mindset.

“I want you to kiss me.” He’d say out of nowhere.,,,

LIKE!! it’s a command or something,, not even a question! 😧

bcs, he’s not trying to make it sound cliche and ask lmfaooo!

also he hasn’t had enough time to think about it, he just talks out his first thoughts🤕… damn….

but you’d sit there all taken aback and shocked, still trying to retrieve your hand from him 😵‍💫

and he smiles with this pretty teasing smile,,

all happy because he has you flustered like he always does :(((

“What? You don’t want to kiss me?” He asks, head tilting.

and you hit him again

over and over with your fists

“Lee Heeseung! Stop fucking around!” LMFAOOO

and he’d laugh, and laugh and laugh.

then he’d pull you near, clutching your fists and pulling you close

then his pretty lips are still smiling when they touch yours

all light and teasing…

and you’re still fighting him 💀💀

see! so he’d only ask on the basis to make you flustered, but most of the time he doesn’t really think before he kisses you;; he just does it!

jay ༉‧₊˚.

nerd

would probably do a lot of self reflection before ever asking directly for a kiss…

he also strikes me as a dude who would just pull you in naturally instead of asking really…

but!! let’s say he’s asking lol

He’d definitely do the stare at your left eye

lips

then back up to your right eye type of mechanism 😎

he’s so cool! (i’m trying to act like i’m not phased but in reality jay has me in a chokehold)

anyways,,

he’d really set the moment n shît, maybe there’s a couple candles lit,, maybe you two were having dinner and then he followed you to the kitchen to set the dishes in the sink, soft smiles and racing hearts pounding in each of your chests.

he’d definitely set it up nice and throughout the whole dinner he’d been staring at your lips but missed every opportunity given to kiss you bcs of the way you stared into his eyes and down his soul lmao!!

you made him nervous too okay!!

but suddenly, now that you’ve set the dishes down and turned to leave, he’s entrapping you between the kitchen island and his arms.

would definitely use the “can i kiss you?” line.

yet,, it’s mumbled underneath his breathe for only you two to hear and it totally defeats the purpose because he’s already leaning in, pushing your hair out of your face, all with that jaw of his tilting

you know,,

his 🔪 jaw

and as soon as your lips touch, the nerves are gone and bro is a little too confident

🫥

the kiss is all slow and a bit drawn out and long…you taste the minty gum he just disgarded a few minutes ago…

yeah! this is THAT type of kiss

that’s the only way he’d ask imo…

it’s like he’s asking because you know he knows it’s not a regular normal one he’s asking for 🤭

the vibes just have to be right.

wheeew :((

jake ༉‧₊˚.

AUR KAY!

i feel like any chance he gets to kiss you, he’d ask you before-hand all smooth n shît 🙄

it’s actually upsetting because he knows it does shit to you lmao

and he ALWAYS! asks for one when he feels attracted to you in some way :(

for instance; maybe you’d been trying things on from your latest shopping spree and are currently showing him the outfits one by one

this particular one you just showed him would show you and your figure off just right and boy!!! he would be a heated mess !

hands all over you—no time to think

your bodies are pulled very close together just how he likes it…

and he’d go;

“can i have a kiss? or two? or three??” whilst staring down into your eyes. 😣

and you fall for it everytime!

“yes. yes, you may….”

and his lips are on yours

and-and-and! he he hums into your mouth in satisfaction through the kiss….😧

fuck him.

anyways the energy created in the studio would be for baby making is all I’m saying.

but besides this he also asks in wholesome cute times too !

it’s like he doesn’t have any shame almost—or like he takes pride in asking and initiating things.

like imagine y’all laughing together after a continued stream of jokes that you guys take turns layering with more jokes

and he turns to you, intertwining your hand’s with his pretty upturned smile, his bottom lip falling out from between his teeth as he calms down from laughing

“You-…You make me so happy…I really want to kiss you right now.” He’d say, staring over at you.

⚰️.

AND YOU’D LET HIM!! OFC U WOULD BECAUSE I WOULD TOO :((

sickening.

sunghoon ༉‧₊˚.

well well well 😈

you see, our dear hoonies pride would never allow him to ask for a kiss or any type of affection outright,,

he’d only do that once he’s frustrated by you not intituating things after a couple hints here and there.

so let the games commence ☠️🤡

bro would already have pink in his cheeks when he’d clear his throat like the wimp he is,, trying to gather your attention and let you know he wants your affection

pero (but) you already know him already!

you’d smirk and continue to go about your day whilst scrolling on your phone,, acting as if you don’t know what he wants LMAOO

bro would mess with the hem of your shirt or shamelessly crawl his fingers into yours in a non-invasive way so as to not take your full attention in one go because he’s scared you’ll figure him and his needy tsundere self out

jokes on him,, you know exactly wtf he’s doing LMFAOO

he’d continue to clear his throat, getting closer and closer to you before you’d finally utter some words to help him out;

“hoon? you need something?” you’d ask, eyes taking a moment to look at him for the first time in ages.

he’d blush and shoot you a frown,, embarrassed to even get to this point.

“no, not really…do you want to like…do something?” he’d ask.

by this time he’d see the teasing smile make its way onto your face and would groan out in feisty frustration.

“oh my god, you know I want your attention and a kiss…why are you putting me through- a-all of this!?” he’d grumble, throwing your hand away to your side as he walks away LMAOO

poor kid 🥹

you’d laugh and run after him, hands going behind his head/neck and bringing him down to your level, your lips finally connecting.

he’d blush but his stubbornness for your affection wouldn’t allow himself to pull away,,, and THEN his hands would confidently make their way to your sides finally.

see,,,

he just needs a lil ~push~ is all ! ☝️

help the boy out!! 😭

sunoo ༉‧₊˚.

mkay, so I think sunoo is a sweet and cute uwu baby…and I think the way he asks for a kiss would be the same :((

but tell me why!?!?

i think he’d be kind of smooth with it…

like

y’all are in the same room, maybe you’re on the bed with him, his head in your lap as he stares up at you with his honey brown eyes…

you know! THOSE PRETTY EYES 😞

a smile on full display as u play with his hair

and he just stares at you,, taking you in with love :(

then at one point he notices your lip gloss.

“y/n?”

“mhm?”

“your gloss looks really pretty…can I try it?”

and you’re like 😊 😧 😳

because oh man I think he’s flirting!

and he laughs at you as you go pink…

y’all are so cute :(

but he’s not going to stop there—he still hasn’t retrieved his kiss ‼️

“…you’re so cute…can I have a kiss?” he’d ask through a smile, deciding to just be straightforward with it. he’s not going to get anywhere without being direct—by the looks of your flustered state anyways lol!

and you’d nod,, not wanting to utter any words in fear that you’d say the wrong thing lmao

you’d just lean down and peck his pretty lips.

it’s quick!

but sunoo is more than satisfied—and when you pull away he’s pursing his lips to spread the gloss you left behind on them and then he watches as you go even redder :(

he’s picking up too much from his hyungs mayhaps 😟

((the office camera pans to you sitting in a corner,, an absolute blushing mess))

jungwon ༉‧₊˚.

this duuuudeeee

okay hear me out!

i don’t think wonnie ever makes advances first

like the others definitely will,, but he strikes me as he’d never

no matter how much he’d want to

like he’d have to be really serious for him to do it lmao!

i think instead,,, it’d be like you’re already leaning in,, maybe it’s a soft moment and y’all are just laying in bed or on the couch cuddling

because jungwon strikes me as a kid who would never actively do PDA,, but when you are alone he’d cling onto you and follow you around, hands to his sides and his chin on your shoulder from behind

or like he’d play with your hands

OR! hear me out!

bro would put you in headlocks just to be closer to you in a funny way

💀💀💀 jsjsj

that’d be so funny lmao

anyways back to the purpose of this whole thing,,

wonnie would be the little spoon until he turns around because you started to speak on something funny that he wants to hear you say again or sum

so he spins around, your arms still around his waist

like the baby girl he is ☝️😌

and he’s just smiling that ugly scary ass smile

and your faces are so close

so when you go quiet after a giggle and glance at his lips

HE SEE’S IT ALL!

and you’re probably already leaning in but haven’t got the guts to fully go for it

so he’d say some shit like

“are you thinking what I’m thinking?” 😭

LIKE? SHUT UP LMAOO

it makes you laugh msksksksj

and he giggles back too :((

then you’re leaning in for him and muah! 🥹

so u see….

he’d never ask,,; but would instead say some dumb shit to kind of insinuate he wants a kiss

another example;

*gets really close to you*

*small silence*

“you want to kiss me, don’t you?” he’d say teasingly

JSJSJSJS MF?

even tho he got close first??

….

fuck off. :(

niki ༉‧₊˚.

sjsj

okay so…

we got riki up…

this kid….🫥

tbh I think if he wants a kiss, he would never ask out loud.

would probably do some type of gesture or something to get your attention and lead you on to kiss him lmao

for example ☝️

he’d walk up to wherever you’re sat, lean over and just get real close to you,, then he’ll proceed to tilt his head and tap his cheek.😒

tap tap…

with that playful smirk of his smh.

now this is all fun and games..so you roll your eyes but kiss his cheek nonetheless..

then this guy! 😠

he’ll tap his other cheek.

so—

muah.

that one gets a kiss too.

he giggles as you stare at him because you’ve done this enough times to know exactly what he wants next.

his pointer finger goes to his lips, and for a second you see his cheeky beauty…the mole on his chin doing no favors for his pretty playful self.

so you decide to give him the kiss of a lifetime bcs HE should be embarrassed!

not you!!! 😣

you confidently grab both sides of his face in your hands and you let the kiss you plant on his lips last a little longer than a peck.

when you pull away he’s still got that cheeky smile,, but now he’s all red in the face and neck and proceeds to scurry off.

brat! 🙄

(we love niki in this household!)

2024 © lovepookie

♡ ︎please do not plagarize, repost, copy or translate any of my works. thank you.

[mikichko]

invisible red line pairing: john price x transmasc!reader cw: not a totally neutral reader as it's modeled after someone, pure fluff :) a/n: xavi (@buttdumplin) was one of the first people I met when I first joined this fandom and he's easily become one of my close friends. it's a little crazy to think that posting about some men would introduce me to one of my favorite people here. this piece is a gift to xavi as a way to thank him for the incredible friendship and kinship we share. xavito, yo se que nada que yo hago o escribo podrá encapsular todo el cariño y agradecimiento que yo tengo hacia ti. pero espero que con esta escritura sientas un poquito del cariño y amor que tu amistad me trae a mi 💕

Nothing else makes the world feel the way it does when John has his hands on you. Hand in hand, on the small of your back, on your hip pulling you to him, or on your chin tilting you up to meet his lips. He can’t name it, can’t quite place his fingers on the why, only knows there’s a comfort it provides. The noise of the world dampens with you in his arms, the flat of his palms on you. There are no threats to prepare for, no problems that need solving. It’s all tranquil here with you.

It’s what has him questioning his beliefs, pondering the idea of fate. John’s not a religious man. Not one to let others reap the glory of his hard work. It’s why he despises fate, it undermines him. He sneers at the mere idea of a predetermined life, one with a path set for him to follow. Like a mindless drone tethered to a track, no choice in which way it bends and curves into.

No, John Price has made every decision with intent. Has meticulously picked every single block used to build up his life. Molded the ones that had been damaged by incompetence and betrayals into solid rock for his foundation. He’s taken every step intentionally, navigated the turbulent waters to land himself right where he’s wanted. The stars had done nothing for him, he’d clawed his way there himself. 

And yet, here’s an anomaly he hadn’t accounted for. A soft sweet boy to temper out his rough edges. To run his hands over John’s brows and try to smooth out the wrinkles brought on by years of worry. Who pressed kisses to his cheek like they were something precious to him. Like John is worth something. 

When he’s at the receiving end of such care John has to wonder who sent him such a sweet thing. 

He knows he hasn’t earned it. Knows his hands have dripped blood, some of which had been wrongly spilled. Liquid sin staining the ivory of his hands before returning to the dirt. Hands like his should not be near his sweet boy. Should not be sullying his skin.

But years of restraint, bound to militaristic standards, years of depriving himself have made him hungry. He can’t help but chase selfishly for your touch, to bury his nose into you and breathe deeply, have his senses overwhelmed by you. Let himself be pressed so close to you it makes you squeal. He bats away your hands when you protest that you’ll hurt him, just pulls you closer onto him.

It’s pressed closely to you, your head laying on his chest, your warmth seeping into him and the cushions of the couch, that he thinks about fate again. He entertains the idea of the stars for once. Wondered for a split second if it was fate that he’d meet you or if he somehow clawed that to him as well.

- ooooo fancy flashback -

He thinks the universe is fucking with him when he spots you. Bitterness rising in the back of his throat as he watches from down the aisle. The laughter of the boys still rings in the back of his head, trading joyous stories of families with each other. It’s the one thing he’d neglected in this life. Any semblance of a family forgotten, problems needed solving and John made the sacrifice. For the greater good, he tells himself, it had to be done.

It’s what he mutters to himself whenever he remembers the chill of his flat back home. What he repeats when he wakes up to the chill of the air creeping up underneath his sheets, the bed empty next to him. 

It’s cruel for the universe to tempt him here. With a boy he just knows is a match for him, hidden away in a city in some landlocked piece of America. Kept secret from him by oceans, borders, and the vastness of America. Yet, here you are within reach. He tightens his hand on the handle of the six pack, the least offensive one he could find, and just watches. 

You're oblivious to the turmoil he’s in. Unaware of the silent battle that rages within him as his body fights to step towards you but his mind keeps him locked in place. All while you compare shaving cream brands for god’s sake. It’d be ridiculous if John hadn’t been starving for someone like you. If his mouth hadn’t dried, if his brain was still working the way it should. 

His feet only move when you float into the next aisle, mind, and body intent on keeping his eyes on you. He still keeps his distance, fiddling with the containers on his end of the aisle. The unfamiliarity of the products throws him for a moment, what the hell is sofrito? You thrive in it, grabbing what he assumes are your essentials seeing how you pick them while barely glancing at them. 

The casualness of your shopping is what gives him his opening. Your fingers grasp the long neck of a glass bottle, pulling it to you with ease. But, for whatever reason, it slips through your fingers and hurtles through the floor. John’s body moves on autopilot, the same it did when Soap had hurtled a knife towards an insubordinate officer. Soap had thrown it as a fear tactic, path angled to avoid harm. But he knows the bottle will absolutely shatter, shards cutting through the fabric of your pants, piercing skin, and staining the fabric with your own crimson life. He can’t have that.

He catches it before it makes contact with the ground, hand hovering a few centimeters above the ground before he straightens himself. 

“Careful with glass sweetheart. Can’t have pretty things like you damaged.” 

Your widened eyes blink before your face transforms in front of him. Your beautifully surprised expression morphs into a scowl, hand adjusting the grip on the basket. 

“I’m not a girl.”

John can only raise an eyebrow at you, eyes running over you without permission. He’s well aware. 

“Didn’t take you for one lad.” 

He lets it sit out in the open for a moment to gauge your response. You merely blink, the scowl easing a bit, the creases between your eyebrows dropping from three to one. Not what you were expecting. Well, you weren’t either, soft face hiding a rather fiery attitude from the looks of it. Someone had definitely put you here for him.

He offers you the bottle, “Trying to tell me that lads can’t be sweet too? Can’t be pretty?” 

It’s been years but he’s been around his boys enough. Kept his wit about him, clearly something that’ll help him win your favor. Likes the way his questions make your lips press inward, like you’re fighting a smile. He lets his eyes roam over you again. 

You lick your lips before responding, “Sorry. Just force of habit.”

John hums, “Nothing to be sorry for love. Like the boys who stand their ground.”

He sees you sway a little, shuffle backward just a little as you try to work out the meaning of his words. Your little inhale tells him you’re enjoying the attention. But you’re still fiddling with the basket, curling and uncurling your fingers on the handles. He doesn’t prod for a response, lets his eyes drift to the contents of your basket. It’s not the what that catches his attention, emboldens him a little more, but just how much of each item there is. He’s no expert but the mere fact you’ve got a basket tells John you’re not shopping for two. The lack of a band on your finger and objections to his comments fill in the rest of the gaps for him.

He can’t help himself, “Feel like I owe you something as an apology, for making you feel there was any need for clarification.”

He watches the silent battle you have, gnawing on your lip as you mull over his proposition. Your eyes flick down to the pack in his hand, “If that’s what you’re offering to share I think I’ll pass.” 

He grins back at you, hip cocking a bit while he looks down at you, “Can always take you somewhere acceptable for your more refined palette.”

You huff out a laugh, your basket finally landing in the ownership of your left hand. “Sorry sir, I’m not one for too many outings. More of a homebody.” You smile politely before your turn and start moving away from him. 

He tries not to dwell too much on the energy that shoots up his spine at your use of sir. Doesn’t even think twice before he follows behind you.

“Bit of a homebody myself love. Just a bit further from mine at the moment.”

“That why you have that pack of piss in your hands?”

He shrugs at your back, “Not too familiar with these plains, makes it difficult to find good liquor.”

You snort at that, “Guess you need a local to show you where to find the good stuff.” 

He comes to a stop right behind you, grinning at you as you turn to face him again, “That a yes to my offer then?”

Your shrug, attempt nonchalance, “We’ll see how movie night goes.”

Somehow he doesn’t fuck it up. He sees you once, investigated thoroughly by the black void that greets him at the door. He sees you again, a third time, and more. He beds you, marks you, and finally claims you as his own. You had him claimed since the beginning.

- ooooo back to the present -

He tightens his grip on you just a little, pressing a kiss to your forehead. The prickly sensation causes you to stir, eyes blinking slowly as you gain awareness of where you are. He hooks his fingers into the fabric to secure you to him. 

“Everything okay?” You mumble out sleepily.

He gives you another kiss, you hum happily against his chest. 

“Got you in my arms sweetheart, everything's perfect.”

[kamjkaze]

Some Andre HCs cause I feel like I understand my baby the most.. TW: eating disorders

I think Andre struggles with anorexia as a means of having control over his life. If pried about it you’ll learn he genuinely does not believe he has disordered eating. He will fast for days on end to simply feel like he has a grip on his own reality.

I think his brain still thinks I’m german and when he’s only around his family for awhile he fumbles a little when translating his thoughts into English. Cal, naturally makes fun of him for this.

When he’s very sleepy and keeping himself awake his brain defaults to German and Cal usually just goes along with whatever Andre is saying.

Cal and Andre are super different in how they go to sleep. Andre can force himself to be awake for hours even if he’s barely lucid. But Cal, once he’s out, he’s out.

Andre is a mega computer nerd and begged his parents for that little computer for a full calendar year before he received it. He loves to tinker with it and I think once when he was younger his tinkering went too far and he broke something inside it. His dad got suuupppeer pissed and threatened to throw the whole thing out if Andre was so comfortable with breaking the things he bought him. , thankfully Andre fixed it with a bit of reading and stressing

Andre is a terrible skin picker. He has acne as it is but he will poke and prod and squeeze and scratch at all the little bumps on his face. The fact he has dirty man hands all up in his open ass acne is not doing the problem any favors

Andre still struggles with his own religious identity and never fully dropped the idea of Judaism from his mind, even on zero day.

I think he actually enjoys working with his dad, I think he’s a daddy’s boy as it is but being able to be out of the house and actually social with his father most nights is really good for him. Many of his doubts for zero day occurred while he was at work with his father.

I think Andre is very sensitive to weed and cannot handle himself very well with getting high because the Goldilocks zone of “this ain’t shit” to “throwing up and greening out” is so small for Andre. As opposed to Cal who hasn’t taken a tolerance break in the four years he’s been smoking.

This is the opposite for drinking. Andre can smash as much alcohol as he wants in a night whereas Cal is a total lightweight who can’t handle his vodka

Andre sleeps completely naked no matter the season. Andre is also naked most of the time in his bedroom or when left alone in the house. It’s a small quirk about him that he doesn’t really know where it came from. “I guess I was just meant to be a nudist. I mean, it’s how we’re all born”

Andre is not the type to admit his jealousy but it is one of the few things he’s able to laugh about just because I think he understands that he is a very jealous person and has more or less come to terms with it (unless of course pushed too hard about it, Andre would get mad about anything if pushed too hard about it)

When andre was a small boy his favorite book was The Runaway Bunny

Andre Kriegman is my life and joy PLLEAASSEEE share your Andre Hcs with me I beg of you

[hauntedjellyfishwitch-blog]

Ok I have a request that’s been brewing in my brain, what if Daryl and reader were out on a run and reader finds a mixtape in the car and plays it, and one of the songs is Creep by Radiohead and she starts singing along and he’s never heard her sing before and he’s like totally enamored by it. But when he starts to listen to the lyrics it maybe hits too close to home and he starts to get insecure and think he’s not good enough for her and he’s kinda standoffish for a bit and when he finally tells her what’s wrong she shows him how much he means to her and how special he is to her AHHHH

Ps ur writing is amazing I love it sm 🫶🫶

Creep

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader (No use of Y/N)

TW: Anxious!Daryl. Alexandria Era. Allusions to sex.

A/N: I cannot tell you how much I LOVE this request, thank you Anon! I'm sorry its taken me a while I have been ill as hell, but I'm hoping to get a few bits uploaded today when my heating kicks in and my fingers start moving again!

-

The dashboard is dusty. The kind of dust that seeps up your nose and makes you smell damp. The car is cramped and the road is bumpy as all hell, but he’s content, almost peaceful as she smiles over at him. He quirks a corner of his mouth upwards in response, knowing he’ll get lost in her smile if he lets himself, and the last thing he wants to do is crash the car when its so full of wares.

It’s not new, not really, their….relationship. It’s the culmination of the electricity that’s been thrumming underneath the surface for a while. So it’s not new, not really, but it is tentative. Everything with Daryl is tentative except killing walkers and hunting; there’s a sick sense of irony that it took the world ending for him to be confident in something. He’s not confident when it comes to her, even now. Even now she’s sitting there holding his hand as he drives back to Alexandria. He could have initiated the hand holding, probably, maybe, she’d like that, but the fear that he’s going to be rejected for trying is always overwhelming.

This run was simple, thank god, neither of them are bruised and battered though Daryl did smack the side of his head rather painfully against a door trying to block a walker. They’re taking three boxes of canned goods, some jumpers for the colder weather and a large handful or seven of treats back to Alexandria. He feels good. Better than he has in a long time; he can almost forget that his shoulder hurts every morning and his brother is dead and the dead are, you know, eating people.

He glances at her out of the corner of his eye, fighting the quirk of his lip that tries to sneak up on him again and failing miserably. She clocks it anyway, picking his hand up to her lips to press a kiss to it before dropping it out of reach in a way that’s so very her. She’s careful with him, never overstepping the boundaries she guesses he has because he hasn’t actually told her, but she offers affection like most people offer hellos. She never pulls away without reassurance.

“Can I see what’s on this?” her voice breaks him out of his thoughts, holding up a crappy mix-tape she’d found atop one of the boxes. She doesn’t even know if it will work, but she’s trying to be appreciative of the small mercies that come with this impossible life and by a stroke of luck they’re driving a car old enough to still have a damn tape slot. She doesn’t expect words to accompany his nod.

And suddenly she’s blaring out the words to a song he vaguely remembers from before, dancing in her seat whilst she lowers her voice for comic effect.

She can sing, he knows she can so she’s doing this for his benefit, to make him laugh. He’s heard her voice in the shower, echoing through their new home, melodic and soft and beautiful. His whole body is warm, bursting at the seams with affection, with the knowledge that she thinks of him even in the tiny moments; that even when she’s doing something she’ll enjoy she’s still trying to entertain him.

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo What the hell am I doin' here? I don't belong here

Maybe it’s the words that set his brain off. Maybe its that the dust reminds him of a home that had never been a home. He thinks back to all the times he’s watched her from a distance, the times he was too afraid to talk to her but wanted to keep her safe, following her from behind like a fucking stalker. He flinches as the memories of the kids in the playground flood him, the ones who’d called him weird and creepy, the voice of his father saying nobody would ever love him, the southern twang of his brother saying the same, ‘nobody is ever gonna love ya except me, baby brother’. But she does, doesn’t she? Or at least something close, she’d made that clear.

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo What the hell am I doin' here? I don't belong here

Hadn’t she made that clear? Hadn’t she kissed him of her own volition? Had he stayed too close until she had no other choice? Had he made his feelings too obvious? Had he been weird and creepy? Had he forced his affection on her until she’d just given in? Maybe people in his previous life had been right about him.

He pulls through the gates on autopilot, doesn’t even remember who was on guard duty but someone had to have let them in. He unloads the car, mind simultaneously numb and in overdrive, hands the boxes to…someone and slams the door shut hard enough he makes himself flinch.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Her soft voice barely registers through the muddled thoughts, she sounds far away and out of reach.

“Nothin’”

He shakes off the warm fingers against his arm, turns to trudge back to their shared house, ignoring the way her footsteps follow in time with his, trying to ignore that he knows she’s got shorter legs than he does and he knows she’s trying to catch up.

“You’re a terrible liar”

“I ain’t”

“Daryl-“

“I can’t do this” he pauses, doesn’t dare to look her in the eye as he scuffs his toe against the asphalt. He hasn’t thought far enough ahead to realise she has to follow him home as she lives there, he just needs to flee “Us” he clarifies as if she hadn’t worked it out already.

“You were fine five minutes ago, I don’t-”

“I ain’t good at this shit. I dun’ want it” he lies through his teeth.  He’s never wanted anything more in his life.

Her footsteps don’t resume as his do, and he takes her not following as acceptance, as proof his brain is right, as confirmation she never wanted him in the first place. Kicking off his boots as he seeks sanctuary inside their home he leaves the front door open for her. He’s never been inconsiderate on purpose.

Body freezing momentarily when he finally hears the front door click shut, he breaths a small sigh of relief that she’s home before guilt gnaws at him. Chewing his fingernails, he half expects her to come to his room, but he hears her upstairs closing the door to hers before the boiler kicks in to tell him she’s taking a shower. His head throbs at him, but the painkillers are in the bathroom upstairs and he avoids taking them unless he really has to.

It’s a testament to how fucking awkward he is that he hides in his basement bedroom until the sun has set, as if he hasn’t wanted a cigarette for the past two hours. Carol won’t let him smoke in the house, a rule implemented months ago, before she’d left for her own smaller house. He’s yet to break it out of respect and if he’s honest, fear. If anyone could sense something wrong from buildings away it would be Carol, and he doesn’t trust his partner housemate not to tell Carol just for a laugh. Daryl both loves and hates how close the two women are, by which he means that it’s lovely until he is the target of their anger or humour and then it is significantly less so.

“Thought you might want some company” her voice startles him out of his thoughts as she sits gracefully next to him on the front step of the porch.

“Don’t need ya pity”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not pitying you” She tries to keep the anger out of her tone. She doesn’t know what’s going on but if she’s confident about one thing its that Daryl wants her and she’s not about to let him sabotage his own happiness by being hard on himself “How’s the head?”

“Sore”

She shakes the small bottle of aspirin at him, pulled from the pocket of her pyjama pants.

“Take a painkiller”

“Better spent on someone else”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Mo’ important people ‘ere than me, I ain’t ever been worth nothin’”

“Daryl-“

“Nah, I ain’t, I weren’t worth shit before, didn’t even have a fuckin’ job, ain’t worth shit now”

“Don’t do that, don’t act like you’re not important, just fucking don’t”

There’s such fierce disappointment under the ire in her tone that it stops him for a beat. He raises his gaze from the smooth wooden steps to look at her face, takes her in properly since he’d walked off earlier in the day. He catches the worry in her eyes, the wobble in her bottom lip she’s trying to bite away, chewing nervously.

“Why? I dun’ deserve ya, dun’ deserve any of this” voice cracking, splintering at the edges around the emotions he’s so used to burying. He can’t bury them when she’s looking at him like this.

“I’d die for you and you don’t even think you matter” she laughs sadly, but its wet, squishy, it doesn’t sit right on her face through the water that’s leaving her eyes. He wonders if she’s aware of the magnitude of what she just said, but she isn’t done, doesn’t show a sign that he can interrupt to point it out “What did I do wrong? How have I failed to show you that? I don’t understand”

Daryl has spent his whole life thinking he is in the way, that he’s a burden no matter how much he tries to prove his worth. He’s never been anyone’s first choice, but here she is crying at the thought of losing him, taking his ridiculous issues as a way she’s failed and he can’t have it, he just can’t. He reaches over, linking his fingers with hers, looking down to watch the way her thumb rubs over his fingers.

“Did I push this on ya?”

“Daryl no”

“What if I didn’t give ya a choice?”

“Daryl, look at me” she waits patiently until he turns his head to her “I chose this, I chose you” she keeps her hand in his as she eases up off the porch steps, tugging his hand until he complies, stubbing out his cigarette on the way up “Come inside”

She looks the door behind them, dims the lights before letting her hand drop and standing facing him in the middle of the room. He stands stock still, lost and confused as she strips her clothes off, purposeful but not rushed. He feels the heat that floods his cheeks.

Finally, when she’s completely naked she locks her eyes on his

“This scar, the one on my side? When I was seven I fell out of a tree, had a stick go right through, it was gross. This one on my shoulder? Argued back once with the wrong man, put me through a door. This one? See it? Put my arm through a window three sheets to the wind on bad tequila, think I wanted to end it all”

He swallows hard, never having had the stories behind the scars he’s seen. They’ve been intimate, a handful of times since this thing started, but she’s hidden almost as much as he has so this bravery is new. Astonishing.

“Do you see me, Daryl?”

“Yea-“ the crackle in his own voice cuts him off.

“Look at me and tell me I don’t look like I have a choice right now. Tell me you made me do this”

“I can’t”

He doesn’t realise he’s stopped closer until her fingers are toying with the collar of his button down.

“Please take it off”

He wants to protest, shifting on his feet in discomfort but the look on her face is so fucking soft, so open and vulnerable as she stands bare in front of him and he tries to keep his eyes on her face. He’d never deny her anything, so he undoes the buttons with shaking fingers. Hers follow, easing the shirt off his shoulders.

He shudders as she traces her fingers over the scars that litter his torso, reaching forward to place his hands around her waist, grounding and solid. Her skin is warm under his touch.

“I wish you could see yourself how I do”

“What d’ya see?” He whispers, kneading the flesh under his palms absentmindedly. He’ll deny himself the pleasure of his base urges as he’s done throughout the years, but even he’s not strong enough not to trail his hands up and down her skin, knuckles grazing the underside of her breasts with each upward stroke.

“Strong, kind, decent. You’re beautiful, Daryl Dixon”

He sucks in a sharp breath as she continues.

“Blue eyes, the way they look at me" she didn't need to look up to his gaze to know it was there, but she does anyway, sees the admiration, the pleading that's always behind his eyes "Look at your hands on me” she lays her hands over his, marvels at how much space they take up on her ribcage “Big, warm hands, safest hands I’ve ever known”

He clenches his eyes shut, shaking his head in disagreement, opening them again when he feels her palm against the stubble on his cheek.

“They’re safe, Daryl, I don’t know what’s happening in here right now” she taps his forehead with a finger “But I see you. Let me love you”

“Ya love me?”

“Yes” makes sure she looks at him when she says it, simply and firmly, no room for argument “Eyes wide open, knowing who you are, knowing what you’ve done, seeing you. Yes. I love you. Let me show you”

[adrienneleclerc]

Hips Don’t Lie

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: There is an after party after the premiere of “the ministry of ungentlemanly warfare” and Henry meets his co star, Eiza Gonzalez’s friend, Y/N.

Warning: spelling and grammar errors, non translated Spanish’s because I get lazy.

A/N: this is my first ever real person fanfic so I hope you like it.

Henry was on the red carpet answering a few questions until it was time to head into the theater with everyone to see his new movie. As he was walking in, he saw Eiza Gonzalez, his costar.

“Eiza, how are you?” Henry said, greeting her.

“Henry, que guapo te ves! I’m definitely not used to your clean shaven look. There’s a party after the premiere, are you going?” Eiza asked.

“I’m not sure, I think I’m going to my hotel after this, spend time with the bear.” Henry said and Eiza giggled.

“You should come! I want you to meet my friend, she came back from her European tour la few days ago, I think you guys would hit it off.” Eiza said.

“Are you really trying to play Cupid?” Henry said,

“I just want you guys to meet, I never said anything about wanting you two to date. But if you happen to fall in love with her, don’t forget to mention me in your wedding toast.” Eiza said.

“Are all Mexicans this delusional or just you?” Henry asked, eiza stared at him. “You’re right, I shouldn’t have said that, sorry.”

“Don’t worry my colonizer friend, it’s fine. And it’s probably just me.” Eiza said.

“How come you get to make jokes about my race but I can’t?” Henry asked.

“You are a straight white man, I rest my case, now let’s get inside, I’m pretty sure we have to make a speech before the movie starts, which I find totally stupid.” Eiza said,

The premiere was over and he went to his hotel room. He thought about how it’s been a while since he dated anyone and decided to call eiza.

“Bueno?” Eiza answered the phone.

“Hey eiza, where is the party?” Henry asked.

“Yes, you’re coming, it’s at xxxx” Eiza said.

“I’ll be right there.” Henry replied and hung up the phone. Henry changed out of his suit to something more casual but still presentable and said goodbye to his dog before asking his driver to take him to where the after party was. When he gets there, he was greeted by Eiza in a fitted dress.

“Yes, you’re here! Great decision, Y/N is probably at the bar, mingle while I go find her. Oh my god, Diego! Compa, como has estado, no te ha visto en…” Eiza greeted her friends walking away from Henry. Henry saw Chris drinking at the bar and decided to walk towards him.

“Henry, buddy, how have you been?” Chris asked, hugging him.

“I’ve been great, how’s married life treating you?” Henry asked.

“Really well, I’m very happy to be back in Boston but I can’t lie, I do miss these parties.” Chris admitted. They kept talking and when they played a Daddy Yankee song, Henry heard a voice screaming.

“AAHH!! Es mi canción! Joel, cuida mi bolsa!” the Woman said, downing a shot of tequila before heading to the dance floor. Henry thought it was Eiza but it was someone else. However, when the woman started dancing, Henry couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

“Hey man, who are you looking at?” Chris asked but he just followed Henry’s line of sight and spotted the woman that was basically demanding the attention of everyone else with her dancing, that’s when Eiza approached the two mean at the bar.

“Whoo, go Y/N! That’s my bestie!” Eiza cheered her on.

“What, that’s Y/N?” Henry asked,

“Yeah, that’s her. I mean, i knew she could dance because I’ve seen her concerts when she performs at the forum, but I never knew she could dance like this.” Eiza said.

“I think your friend is making Hnery want to learn Spanish, he hasn’t taken his eyes off her since she started dancing.” Chris said and Henry hit his chest, still not looking away from the woman dancing.

“Perfect! I’ll get her when the song is over so you can meet her.” Eiza said, clearly excited that henry is interested in her friend. When the song finished, Eiza made her way to Y/N. “Y/N! Como has estado? Que me cuentas de la gira?”

“La gira fue espectacular, todos los fans cantando mis canciones, llevándome flores, estoy súper agradecida. How was the premiere? I wish I could have gone but I wasn’t invited.” Y/N said,

“Sorry! I forgot when your tour ended. Anyway, I have someone I want you to meet.” Eiza walked Y/N over to when’re Henry and Chris were. “Y/N, this is Henry Cavill. Henry, this is Y/N L/N. Chris, come dance with me.” Eiza said, pulling Chris with her, leaving Henry and Y/N alone by the bar.

“Hi.” Henry said bashfully.

“Hey.” Y/N said, fiddling with her fingers.

“I saw you dance, you were amazing, by the way, you seemed really into it.” Henry commented.

“Well i grew up listening to Shakira so you could say my hips don’t lie.” Y/N said and both of them ended up laughing. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I made that joke, que tonta soy, eh.”l

“No no, it’s okay, I laughed, right?” Henry said, making Y/N feel more comfortable.

“But seriously, my mom would put me in these dance classes, well, her friend who taught dance classes would give me free lessons.” Y/N said. “Do you dance?”

“No but I took lessons when I was filming Argyle.” Henry said.

“I haven’t seen Argyle but I really want to see this movie. Like yeah, my bestie is in it, but I really like your look in this movie.” Y/N said.

“Really? You like the messy hair and the full beard?” Henry asked.

“Yeah, your curls show off more than in your other movie, Night Hunter.” Y/N commented.

“So you’re a fan of my movies?” Henry asked.

“Am I a fan of the movies or just the attractive British actor starring in them?” Y/N asked, getting closer to Henry.

“I say you’re a fan of me.” Henry said.

“Bingo! Hope Im not being too forward.” Y/N said

“Not at all.” Henry said. They started playing Propuesta Indecente by Romeo Santos.

“Well, time to put your dancing skills to use, do you think you can dance bachata?” Y/N asked, taking Henry’s hand and led him on the dance floor.

“Only if you show me how.” Henry said.

“Of course, just follow my lead.” Y/N said.

They danced every bachata song that was played, and when they weren’t dancing, they were just talking.

Eiza sips her drink, observing them.

“They would be a cute couple.” Eiza commented to Chris.

“Yeah, he seems happy enough.” Chris said.

“Could I get your number?” Henry asked.

“Of course, give me your phone.” Y/N said. Henry handed her his phone and Y/N gave it back. “I’m gonna head out but I’ll be waiting for your call. Hasta luego, guapo.” Y/N kissed Henry’s cheek and left the party with Eiza. Chris then approached Henry who was holding his cheek where she kissed him.

“What are you thinking about?” Chris asked.

“How much a Spanish tutor costs.” Henry commented.

“Alright, buddy, let’s get back to the hotel.” Chris said, leading Henry to the exit.

The End

Taglist: @warriormirkwood @shellyshellshell

[sturniozo]

Savage Love Part Two

Matt Sturniolo x reader Mafia AU

A/N: I’m so happy y’all like the first part it’s insane!!! I have so many plans for this fic tbh hehe I have so much ready already but I want to finish tutor as well which only has a few parts left but asshhhhhh thank you guys for all the praise on part one you have no idea how much it means to me!!!

masterlist

“You’re joking.” Emma says. I just stare at her. “No fucking way. Matt Sturniolo took care of you while you were drunk! A total stranger!” She smiles. “That’s a scoop!”

“Yeah, it’ll get you something big.” I nod.

“Not me, you. Too humanitarian for my writings. But you, with your do good and help the planet and its people look on life…. An article about the most ruthless and powerful man taking care of a helpless stranger while she’s intoxicated! That’ll get you something big!”

I smile at her. “I’ll have to get to writing it fast. Kyler doesn’t like old news. I’ll need it out by tonight for it to be any good to him.”

Kyler is our boss, the editor of our newspaper. Even though it’s a small newspaper outlet, our boss is a hardass, and I’m honestly surprised he hasn’t fired me already.

~

I set the stapled sheets of the freshly printed article on Kyler’s desk.

“What is this?” He asks without even looking up at me.

“It’s my article. Matt Sturniolo has a soft spot.” I bite my lip and Kyler looks up at me, seemingly intrigued.

“Matt Sturniolo?” He asks. I nod and he picks up the article, quickly reading and flipping through it. I had made sure to not mention it was me that Matt had taken care of, and made it seem like another person had told me about it. “Where did you get this?”

“Anonymous source.” I reply. Kyler nods and hands it back to me. “Send it to print and have it on a middle column that’s free.” He looks back at his computer and I take the article and quickly leave.

I smile to myself as I take the article to print. I tell the guys exactly what Kyler told me to tell them and they nod, taking the article from me and shooing me away.

I go back to my desk and sit down, not able to wipe the smile off my face. I look over my computer and see Emma, on the phone with someone I assume is another person she’s crossed when writing an article about them after they slept together.

Not long before the end of the day, Kyler comes out of his office for the debrief. Everyone tells him their scoops and he gives them the yes or no. Then it comes to me.

“Do you think you can talk to that anonymous source again?” He asks me.

I hesitate but Emma answers for me. “She definitely can!”

“Good. I want confirmation on the rumors that Matt Sturniolo is the head of the Mafia in New York. Can you get it to me?”

“She sure can!” Emma answers for me again.

“Get me confirmation in a month. I want updates and articles until then.” Kyler demands. He then surveys the room before leaving back to his office.

“A month? How am I supposed to get that information in a month?” I ask Emma.

“Well, you have his number don’t you?” She tells me.

I sigh. “I guess.”

“You guess?! Use the number! Call him! He’ll do it now!”

“Really?”

“If you don’t get that article in within a month, Kyler will fire you!”

I sigh again and pull out my phone and the card Matt had given me. I dial the number and put it on speaker for Emma to hear.

“Hello?” The other end says.

“Hi, is this Matt? We met at the party, you took me to the hotel room when I was too drunk to stand?”

“Dollface, I’ve been waiting for your call.” Matt says and my stomach flips in circles. “Did you change your mind?”

I laugh softly before saying “I guess you can say that.”

“Meet me tonight at 7, at the hotel.”

“Alright.”

“Bye dollface.” He says before hanging up.

“Dude, that was so booty-call-esque.” Emma says and laughs. “I thought you weren’t a hook up type?”

“I not. But I need this story.”

“I know. I’ll help you.”

“Help me?”

“You’re going into my territory. You’re sleeping with people for information.”

“Not people, just Matt. And who know is he’ll even tell me anything.”

“Oh he won’t tell you anything. You have to pick things up on your own.”

“What?” I laugh.

“Like if he takes a call after sex, what he says, who’s in the other end. Or if he says he has a meeting, ask who with. And keep hooking up with him. The more you hookup, the more he’ll be willing to share with you.”

I take a deep breath. “I can do this. I can hook up.” I tell myself.

The truth is I don’t think I can just hook up. The only guy I’ve ever been with and had sex with was my high school boyfriend, who cheated on me and made me feel like I wasn’t good enough half the time we were together.

“You got this.” Emma says

Tags: @stargirlsturniololover @sturniolobessed @eyelessdemon @sturnioloenthusiast @sturniolopookie @urmommysbathroom @qwertytit @whatever1021 @chrisfavoritepepsi

[not-neverland06]

HEAR ME OUT!!!!

Barb is literally fit af (If she wasn’t a walking red flag)! I have this little thought that Coop and Barb would totally share someone (in my delusional universe), who’s wayyyy more innocent and inexperienced, and that is literally all I can think about! It’s obviously up to you with what you do with this, but I literally needed to get this out of my system. Love you lots babes and wishing you well 🫶🏻

A/N: First of all, how dare you? I don’t even like Barb. But I read this ask, scoffed, and went about my day. Sadly, it has needled its way into my brain and it’s all I’ve been able to think about. I can’t even write the next chapter of my current story. So, anon, I hope you’re proud of yourself. Here you go:

(Love you too, I guess)

SFW:

I imagine a situation like this stems from Cooper’s attraction to you. 

Barb hasn’t really ever considered bringing a third party into their marriage, because for the most part they’re happy. 

If this is before Vault-tec, you’re a little happy go lucky PA working on one of Cooper’s sets. 

He likes how inexperienced you are in the industry and in life in general. His wife is one competent, confident woman, and he loves that about her. But Fallout is set in an era similar to the fifties, he wants to feel needed, to feel like a real man. 

You provide that for him. You are someone he can guide and mold. You’re enamored by him, practically worship him because he is the Cooper Howard. 

Barb sees this, sees the way her husband watches you like you’re something precious and vice versa the way you follow his every word like gospel. She rolls her eyes at it at first. This is the way of men, distracted whenever a pretty young thing like you comes around. But then he starts inviting you over to the house and she gets to know you. 

You really are sweet. You think the both of them are so amazing. You gush about how incredible both of their successful careers are and she loves the little ego boost. 

To avoid any friction in their marriage she softens up around you and lets you over to the house more often. But eventually it changes from just reluctantly letting Cooper invite you over to spending one on one time with you. 

You stop becoming a chore for her and become just as much of a treat as you are for her husband. 

I don’t think they ever have a real conversation about your role in their relationship. 

They’ve been married for so long that they don’t need words to understand each other. You’re simply a part of their life now, something that belongs to them both. 

For Cooper you provide the much needed feeling of having someone to take care of and guide. 

For Barb you’re someone she can relax around. She doesn’t need to prove herself or her worth to you, you just innately understand her. 

(very slight) NSFW:

If this is during the tumultuous Vault-Tec period of their relationship, I think this dynamic would be more sexual in nature. 

Barb needs Cooper under control. She can’t risk losing her husband during the nuclear fallout but her leash has been slipping and he’s getting suspicious. 

Then comes you, one of the interns that likes to follow her around and eagerly fetch her coffee. You’re attractive, eager to please, and wholly unused to the way the world around you works. 

You’re not truly aware of how evil the company you work for is. You’d taken the job to prove yourself. You’re not some naive idiot that just follows others blindly. 

But you are. 

She invites you over to dinner, not sure what she’s going to do with you. But you’re hot and would readily spread your legs for two icons like the Howard’s, she’s sure its going to come in handy. 

Her and Cooper have discussed this before, when sex seemed to get a little too boring after being married for so long. But nothing ever came of it. Now, you’re a little surprise for him (and an incentive to keep his mouth shut and just listen to what she says)

Under normal circumstances their sex is pretty vanilla as they haven’t really been clicking like they used to. Cooper’s normally in control. 

And that remains true for you, the both of them guide you and use your lack of experience against you to get you to obey. 

But Barb runs shit when it comes to Cooper. This is a part of the deal. He gets to have the threesome of his dreams, all he has to do is listen to her. 

She knows best after all. 

Hope this doesn’t suck <3

end. — I do not own the characters or the video game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[sky-the-trans-guy00]

Her PR Guy -Ch.1

hey everyone! I started this fic a really long time ago, and decided to re-write it for a different player! Let me know if you have any requests and/or feedback :)

Feel free to use this idea for a fic if you're interested; I have no problem with re-using ideas.

Disclaimer

I wrote this story with a trans male insert because I, myself, am a trans dude, and there hasn’t been a whole lot of content in this fandom for trans men.

Backstory

Y/N worked for an NWSL team post-grad, as a social media assistant and decided to hop across the pond to work for Arsenal WFC,  after being offered a job as their primary content creator and media person.

Y/N’s POV

I met Alessia while working in Arsenal’s Public Relations Department. I had just moved on from an entry-level position at Bay FC with little to no idea what type of world I was stepping into. Armed with a passion for sports and storytelling, my job was to run the social media accounts, and help craft stories that captivated fans and media members alike. What I didn’t realize at the time, is that my story would be worth telling someday, too.

It was my first media day working for Arsenal, and I was totally freaking out. I mean, this was my dream, one that I had fought tooth and nail for. I had never dared to imagine this possibility, but here I was, and I felt woefully unprepared.

Get it together (Y/N)! We worked so hard to get here, and we got this. The board believes in us, and so do I!! You wanted so badly to have a fresh start, and here it is.

I went over to the players and introduced myself, "Hey everyone, my name's (Y/N), my pronouns are he/him, and I'm your new PR guy." A lot of the players seemed stunned, probably because I'm a guy working for an WSL team, so I decided to clear some things up. “I’m also a proud trans man who knows that the future is female, especially in sports. I’ll be mainly working with the photographers and videographers to get content for our socials, but I’m here if you need anything.”

Alessia’s POV

After Y/N walked away I was still captivated.

“He’s a cute one,” said Leah.

“Definitely,” I replied emphatically.

“He could be just what the doctor ordered, with your recent breakup and everything,” added Lotte

“He’s easy on the eyes, that’s for sure,” Alessia responded while looking at you as you walked away from the team, ”Let’s just hope he isn’t too full of himself….”

Y/N’s POV

It’s been over a month since I introduced myself to the players, and I can’t get Alessia Russo out of my head. She’s been flirting with me since we met, but I can barely function in her presence, not to mention I literally work for the team. Before I can get too in my head about it, I get a call from my buddy Alex.

“Hey (Y/N/N)! How’s the new job going?”

“It’s going well,” I replied, “I think I have a crush on one of the players though…”

“I fail to see the problem bro,” said Alex.

“You are a hot eligible bachelor, and any girl would be lucky to have you. You even told me that two of the players are together, so workplace dating is obviously not a problem.”

“Yeah, but I’m not trying to deal with another Karen incident!” I exclaimed.

Karen was a close friend of mine in college who really fucked me over. I managed her campaign for Student Body President, and when she found out I had a crush on her she flipped out and cut me off, only after she won the election. She ignored me for weeks following her win, and when we finally spoke about what had happened, she told me she thought it was best that we ‘keep it professional.’ To add insult to injury, all of our mutual friends decided I wasn’t worth sticking around for. I tried to take the high road and didn’t tell anyone my side of things until it was too late and they had already taken her side.

“How long are you going to let Karen control your life? You can’t keep giving other people your power, bro.”

I knew that he wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t ready to let go of the past.

“Yeah, but this girl is so out of my league it’s unbelievable. Not to mention, I’m pretty sure she has a girlfriend!”

“You sure about that Y/N?”

“Not entirely, but why would she date a loser like me when she has her pick of almost every queer athlete?”

Much to my chagrin, I was not athletic by any means, which was definitely an insecurity of mine. Deep down, I still felt like the sad, closeted, insecure kid with no friends from Middle and High School, despite all of my work in therapy.

“You may not be athletic, but you’re super kind and loyal as fuck. Trust me when I say that what you think you may lack in physical appearance pales in comparison to the type of person you are. You’re full of green flags— except for your inability to take a good selfie, which most people who know you happen to find endearing. Face it Y/N, the only thing that’s standing in your way is you. You control your own destiny, and you my friend are a catch; remember that.” Said Alex

“Thanks for hyping me up, my guy. I’m definitely going to talk to my therapist about this.” I said.

“As you should, Y/N! I’m here for you if you need anything, and I’m only one call away. You got this homie.”

I ended the call and reflected upon Alex’s advice.

Everything you want is in reach and ripe for the taking, you got this Y/N, I thought to myself.

[shockwave65]

I am so normal about this show, it totally hasn’t taken over my life in the past 3 weeks

[sporadicmoontimemachine]

Buddie realization earlier than expected? (Theory: looong)

Ok so what led me on this train of thought was bc I’ve been thinking about is the beginning of season 7 when Eddie is talking with Buck about Chris being a player. Eddie says “I don’t know where he gets it from, I married the first girl that I dated”. Fast forward to season 8 and bummy breakup and Turkish delight telling Buck that he’s his first and won’t be his last blah blah. Now let’s go to how Buck was ofc as usual ready to move in with Travel Agent and be serious. We’ve seen Buck from season 4 onward pushing to settle down and it was assumed that was bc of the Abby closure at the end of season 3 BUT…what if it’s not? What if it’s really a nod to Bucks need to be close to Eddie and in this sense I mean more mentally and theoretically.

Although Buck has seen Eddies relationships fall apart multiple times he has always tried to be like Eddie and establish “security” in a partner and eventually a family- something that he found in Eddie and Chris- but also really hasn’t bc Eddie has continually given up that spot that Buck unofficially holds as part of the Diaz family for years. However throughout the time Buck has known Eddie , the spot as Eddies best friend has been secured by him…until Trumpet. Once he was introduced Buck panicked(the first spot in Eddies life was already taken by Marisol and now there was competition for the other) so he did what he could to right the situation-remove Tourniquet from Eddies life himself. Buck found a willing substitute for Eddie while also ensuring that he would be Eddies secured first(bestie slash “platonic” life partner).

Back to the Eddie marrying his first and Torpedo saying that they can’t last BECAUSE he’s his first. I think at some point this is going to be brought up or referenced to, especially with the stills showing a depressed Buck. I think he has mentally seen Trombone being his first as something that relates to the validity of his relationship with Eddie. With him trying to emulate and fill the gap that not holding that “true” top spot in Eddies life and provide reason for why he should be okay being only Eddies bestfriend. Buck will at some point think well you married your first and overall it worked out great right(despite the divorce and her dying…)? You have your kid you got to experience the love etc. This is why despite multiple little(and not so little) references to Triste not being the one for him( the Evan Thing, “You wanted MY attention”, he’s good for you - how do you know that?, I gave you basketball tickets for our anniversary when you don’t like basketball, Do you love him?…, I led on the woman that changed your outlook on relationships and completely broke her heart), he still proceeds to ask Tommy to move in with him.

So then comes the question Why Buck? Why are you so heartbroken over this when you know deep down Trashcan was right? Because the whole thing was a product of his fear that he wont be important in eddies life forever. And from the articles Eddie is supposed to have a unique reaction to the breakup which I think is he is going to be completely care free about it in a “What can you do way”. This again will bring up Why do you care this much? Everyone else is moving on, you weren’t even this bad with Abby. I can totally see Buck having a meltdown about it. Another unique thing that hasn’t really happened before- Eddie is relatively free of emotional and mental weight atm while Buck is the complete opposite. Either both have been down bad or Buck was the free one and Eddie needed him. If Eddie reacts how I think in addition to everything else, this will be when Buck realizes what he truly wants from Eddie. Buck has always been there for him when the roles were reversed so Eddie not making it a priority will probably cause a I’m always there for him? Why is that and why am I so angry that he’s not as devastated as I am that our-I mean- me and Trampoline’s relationship didn’t work. This is all going to lead to Buck ending this episode or next episode with the realization that he has real romantic feelings for Eddie. BUTT I might just be way off and Eddie gets really protective and threatens Turnips life for not seeing how great Buck is and then asks Buck to marry him instead🙂.

Also this is probably hard to follow but it makes more sense in my head promise