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starlight-writer · 8 months ago

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Fighting

A)n: Heyyyy... I'm back :)

Warning: none, angst, yelling, arguing

Gn reader Masterlist

Steven

He doesn’t yell

But it’s that exactly that makes it worse

He refuses to yell, but he’ll be a sarcastic little shit

“Oh really? How lovely.”

“Oh my dearest apologies, my liege, I didn’t realize I had to agree with everything you had to say.”

Steven won’t back down, he’ll keep this energy until he’s done talking about it and then he’ll ignore you

He won’t ask how your day's been, he won't hug you, he won't even look at you

And it’ll drive you crazy

The only reason this started was because Steven missed a date and didn’t acknowledge that he would be late or wanted to cancel

He was working late for Donna again, but this time it just set off something in his head

Normally you wouldn’t be too upset about him missing a date, seeing as he’s got other people to take care of and he’s got a shitty boss, but when you asked him about the date, he blew up

“God, it was one date, why do you have to nag me about it?”

“Excuse me? I wasn’t trying to nag you, Steven, I just wanted to know what happened.”

“You’re not my bloody parent, you don’t need to know!”

“Take that back.”

“No.”

And now you're in your room and Steven's sleeping on the couch

That night will give him time to realize he was in the wrong and he'll feel super guilty

When he wakes up with a stiff back and sore neck, he'll think he deserves it

He'll wait until you come out to get up

And then he's following you around like a lost puppy

He won't say anything, but he'll look so sad and just be following you everywhere you go

It would be cute if you weren't upset with him

You'll have to be the one to start a conversation, but as soon as you say a single word to him, Steven's apologizing faster than you can process

"Love, I'm so so sorry. I was an absolute knob, I was so stressed and upset yesterday and I know that's not a reason to treat you so terribly, but it was such a bad day. I promise I'll make it up with 3, no, 5 dates! We can do whatever you want today and tomorrow and all week! Please forgive me, darling. I know I don't deserve it, but please just give me another chance."

He looks like he's about to burst into tears and kneel for you

(Which would be hot in a different setting)

Depending on how passionate you feel about this, it might take some time to forgive him, but he's there every second of the day

Or if you want him to leave you alone, he'll respect that

You'll find little notes of lovey poems around the flat and your favorite snacks littered around the living room

He honestly feels like a terrible partner so when you do decide to forgive him, just give him a kiss and hug him

He'll cry and apologize a bunch more so just pet his head and tell him it's ok

He'll genuinely sit you down and ask if there's something he can do to get his 'anger issues' under control

Poor baby doesn't have anger issues, he just has a shitty boss <3

Marc

He yells

He yells loud and painful things

He doesn’t care, he can’t bother to care

He’s angry and that’s all he feels

He can’t think past it, it’s like he sees red

He’ll shout until his throat is raw, but he’ll get as many insults and sarcastic comments he can before that happens

He knows what he’s doing is wrong, he knows the only reason you’re arguing is because of him

But he’s not backing down

He wants to hurt you and he does

And it makes everything worse for at least a week

Marc came home absolutely wreaked from a fight and refused your help, preferring to drink and just sit there

If you weren’t so upset at the fact he refused your help and instead wanted the help of alcohol, you’d yell at him about staining the couch with his blood

You’ll either have to deal with Marc breaking out into an argument after the initial one, or leave to stay somewhere else

If you come back the next day, Marc will still be upset

He won’t start yelling at you again, but he’ll ignore you

And it really just stops there

It’s the silent treatment for a week

He'll make dinner for you and all that, but he won't talk to you

He'll stare at you, wondering if you'll be the one to apologize

Or he'll be staring at you to see if you're watching him

You're not

He'll stay silent for an entire week, festering in his anger and guilt until it overflows

And when you come back home from work or being out late, he's waiting for you

And he looks like a kicked puppy

It was no surprise Marc had no idea how to apologize and admit/accept his feelings but at this moment, none of that mattered

His guilt and the feeling of missing you outweighed his discomfort of voicing his feelings

He'll start with an apology, saying how sorry he was and how terrible he felt

He didn't give any excuse or reason for his anger, he just apologized and stood there

He expects you to yell at him, leave him, insult him

Just gently take him in your arms and kiss his cheek

You don't even have to tell him anything, he'll promise to never yell at you like that again

"If I do, you can hit me as hard as you want."

Marc will say, though if you did actually hit him, he'd probably cry

He'll be so genuine with his words and.the nail in the coffin was the fact that he promised

Marc never makes promises, even if he knows he can fulfill them

But he swears up and down that he will never yell at you again

And he does everything in his power to reverse or heal the damage his words did to you

Even going out of his comfort zone

He loves you so much and he doesn't understand why you're still with him, but he thanks every God and Goddess that you are

Jake

He’s dangerously silent

He’ll stand there completely blanked face, eyes set in a slight glare as you argue about something that was definitely his fault

Maybe he missed a date and didn’t bother to let you know he wasn’t coming or wrote off your worry about a few injuries and called you ‘clingy’ and ��overbearing’

Either way, he doesn’t respond to your anger, just standing there like he didn’t care

And it hurt

Once you were done explaining how you felt or what Jake did wrong, he’ll roll his eyes, pull out a cigarette and sit in the couch

He’ll play the baseball game he may have missed or just watch the news to really set in that something that boring was more interesting than your feelings

“Do you seriously find the news more important than our relationship?”

He won’t look at you

“I can’t believe this. If you care so fucking little, then why are you still here?”

“This is my house.”

“Then maybe I should go if it’s just your house.”

“You should.”

And you do

You go to a friends house, or a hotel, somewhere that you can rest for the night because you’re obviously not going to get anywhere with Jake and you can’t stand his attitude

The second you’re out of the room, Jake curses and throws the tv remote at the wall

He throws everything that he can without any worry of breaking something or getting a noise complaint

He'll throw bottles, plates, pillows, books

Once he's run out of steam, he'll shamefully clean up everything, throwing glass away and putting pillows back

That's give him the time he needs to realize 'oh shit, I fucked up'

He won't come out and admit it instantly, no

He'll fester in his guilt and figure out what exactly he should say

He'll even plan out when he should breathe during his apology

And when you get home, no matter when that is, Jake it waiting patiently with breakfast, lunch, or dinner

He'll give a nervous smile and walk up to you, giving you a hesitant kiss on your cheek before pulling you to the living room couch

Your plate of food is already made and somehow still warm despite Jake no knowing when you'd be back

He'll give an awkward apology, explaining how he's still not used to being something more than a protector for Marc and Steven, how he's still learning to let people in, how he loves you with all his heart despite being such a monster

He might start crying, but he'll try not to show you

He doesn't want to show vulnerability, but he knows it's important in a relationship

So he'll just ask very quietly if he can hug you

Is you say no, he'll nod in understanding as tears fall into his lap

He'll quietly mutter another apology and just sit there, unsure as to what to do

If you say yes, however, he'll gently wrap his arms around your waist and bury his head in your neck

He'll silently cry, muttering 'i love you' over and over again until you say it back

Just rub his back and kiss his head, tell him you forgive him or need time to forgive him and he'll understand either way

He loves you with his entire being, almost like he lives off of loving you

#marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #marc spector #marvel #jake lockley #moon knight #steven grant #jake lockley x gn!reader #marc spector x gn!reader #steven grant x gn!reader #starlight writes

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goingbuggy · 5 months ago

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Good morrow my shuggy liege!

I was pondering if I should or shouldn’t ask but I hope it will not be too much bother to answer

It’s about one of your metas about the love and sacrifice Beautifully written I must say but reading through it again made me wondering how does buggy fall into the sacrifice themes of one piece?

It pains me to admit that once I’ve read 1082 I had many different feelings and one of them thought of buggy sacrifice as quite selfish in a way? Don’t get me wrong I’m sure came from him believing in shanks and the love he had for the boy! It just it felt in a way like he was burdening shanks with his own dreams

I’m happy he finally got the courage to follow his own path It’s beautiful and inspiring I just wonder if my interpretation is coming from anxiety or is actually true? Thank you and I’m sorry to sending this on anon

Hello, anon! Thank you for your kind words about my metas. Before I answer your question about where Buggy might fit into the wider themes of One Piece -- like sacrifice -- I think I should address your interpretation of 1082's events and compare them with mine.

I can understand why someone might conclude that Buggy's faith in Shanks is a burden of sorts, and ultimately selfish; after all, Shanks never asked for the weight of Buggy's expectations, and you could argue that Buggy's plan was to live out his dreams vicariously through Shanks. However, I think that there are some key points which entirely re-frame the situation.

Buggy didn't actually tell Shanks about what he did.

This isn't explicitly confirmed by the manga, but based on 1082's events and Shanks/Buggy's relationship timeline going forward, I can definitely make a strong case for their miscommunication in this regard.

Although we have Buggy's narration in 1082 to guide us through his flashback and enlighten us with his true feelings about Shanks, remember -- it's an internal monologue. The only thing Shanks knows is what Buggy tells him, and what Buggy tells him is not the full story. Look at this series of panels to see what I mean.

We have a very important contrast here -- Buggy's thoughts ("You're not the next generation's king?! I misjudged you, Shanks!" / "Don't you care about following in Captain Roger's footsteps?!"), versus what he actually says. ("You coward!" / "It's your fault I lost that treasure map!")

In classic Buggy fashion, we see him deflect from the truth; instead of explaining how much he believed in Shanks' potential, he brings up a petty grudge and insults Shanks out of disappointment, hurt, and anger/frustration. Nowhere do we see Buggy explicitly tell Shanks what/why he gave up. And this miscommunication is not only the heart of Buggy's sacrifice, but the exact reason why they split in the first place: Shanks did not tell Buggy what made him change his mind about going to Laughtale, and Buggy did not tell Shanks about his decision/dream.

I think this is key to understanding the way they navigate their interactions later down the line, in Marineford. Remember: Shanks believes that they split due to the whole map ordeal, which is not only a relatively lighthearted grudge to hold, but also very confusing from Shanks' perspective.

I love the curt answer he gives here, because it really reflects Shanks' limited understanding of what actually transpired between them that fateful day at Loguetown. Thus, it's also understandable why Shanks acts the way he does at Marineford. I highly doubt Shanks would be so casual if he knew Buggy's real reasons for parting ways. Hell, their split was so important to Shanks that he still remembers Buggy's gripe about the map 20+ years later -- and even uses the promise of one to draw Buggy back into rehashing things between them. (The anime expands on Shanks' confusion/limited understanding even more, but because we're dealing with the manga only, I'm not going to reference those added scenes.)

This interaction can seem quite confusing, but place it in the wider context I've just proposed, and it makes a lot more sense. Something fundamental has permanently shifted between them, but Shanks does not understand the gravity -- nor the real reason -- behind that change. And yet again, Buggy perpetuates this cycle of miscommunication by not telling him.

So, now that I've argued why I believe Buggy didn't tell Shanks about his true dream/decision to give up on said dream, why is it so important?

Well, this leads to my second point.

2. Buggy is a character primarily motivated by greed.

This statement does not need to be argued; it's as explicit as can be, because it has been well-established by Oda. In fact, it's very likely to be what people remember best about Buggy's character, in the midst of the massive narrative that One Piece has become. (I will touch upon this later, because this is exactly why I view Buggy's sacrifice as so impactful to the reader.)

Now, my last point:

3. Buggy is terrible at hiding his true intentions.

Buggy usually makes it quite obvious what he's hiding through blatant lies which hint to the truth, or even a direct slip of the tongue, like in Impel Down. This is partially for the sake of comedy/divulging necessary information to readers, but it's also a genuine aspect of his character which reinforces the comedy. Buggy's intentions are comically apparent to readers, so it's ridiculous to see his followers fall for his schemes.

These three points, in tandem, are exactly what makes 1082's reveal so impactful. Oda uproots everything we thought we knew about Buggy's character in order to give us the missing puzzle piece -- the reason why he is the way he is. This exact decision.

Buggy is a character motivated by greed, but he gave up on his dream, a pillar of freedom and existence in the One Piece world. He is self-absorbed, and yet he de-centered himself from the narrative. And for who, of all people? Shanks, the very man he claimed to despise in his first introduction. Are you starting to see the groundwork Oda's laying down here?

Buggy is notoriously bad at hiding the truth when he lies, and yet readers are blindsided by this reveal, over a thousand chapters after his first appearance. He kept it a secret, not just from Shanks, but from us. 1082 subverted our expectations and further developed Buggy's character in the process. It's a great display of what I love most about Oda's writing.

Before 1082, it would be difficult to claim where Buggy lies in One Piece's themes of sacrifice or dreams. But post-1082, it's a lot clearer. Oda has shown us that Shanks is just as important to Buggy as Buggy is to Shanks, and he's done it in the most effective way for a greedy character: by showing us that even Buggy is capable of sacrifice, when it's for someone he cares about. And what did he give up? His dream -- one of the most important things people have in One Piece.

Sure, it's possible to dismiss Buggy's decision as selfish, but remember: he didn't tell Shanks. He didn't expect anything in return. In a way, he has actually spared Shanks from feeling burdened; Shanks doesn't know the truth, and so he has no opportunity to feel guilt or responsibility for Buggy's decision. For a character like Shanks, who is defined by responsibility, this is also massively significant. Buggy's choice is not Shanks' fault, and by deflecting to trivial matters like the map, Buggy has -- intentionally or not -- lifted a possible weight from Shanks' shoulders. Shanks still feels the loss of their relationship, but instead of potential guilt, there is confusion and miscommunication.

So, no, I don't view Buggy's sacrifice as selfish. He did what he did because he truly believed in Shanks. He was willing to let Shanks become king and live out his dream, all without burdening Shanks with the truth. It's the antithesis of everything we've known about Buggy up until this point -- a decision without his greed, egomania, and overt schemes at the forefront. And if that's not a selfless act from Buggy, then I don't know what is.

#tldr; this just in: miscommunication is once again beating shuggy's asses #one piece #buggy the clown #buggy #akagami no shanks #shanks #shuggy #is it shuggy? idk the lines have blurred at this point #ask #one piece meta #long post #meta

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prettyboykatsuki · 2 years ago

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territorial woes | k. leona

✮ tags ; fem!reader (referred to as leonas woman very briefly) fluff, territorial / needy leona , he is sickly in love in this sorry they're so domestic, one singular sex joke, this is a college au so everyone is over 18 for sake of my sanity, sfw but this blog is 18+ so minors don't follow please and ty

✮ wc ; 2k (? ? ?)

✮ a /n ; im so embarassed that this is leaving my fingertips actually. i do have to clarify like... i dont rlly think leona gets jealous easily but he can be kind of childish bc he's spoiled if that makes sense lmao. i was so Plauged by this i couldnt sleep its like 4am. i took my melatonin at midnight im so sick. blame @/petrichorium i am not responsible.

✮ synopsis ; leona kingscholar is often annoyed, but not usually over something like this.

He shouldn't have come to class.

The clock on the wall is agitating. Tick, tick, tick. On repeat over and over, plainly the same and piercing. Leona is sensitive to his surroundings, and particularly to noise.

He hates loud noises and sharp cries and he hates the sound of the damn clock in Trein's classroom. He's never been a fan of the classroom setting, general lack of motivation aside. It goes against his very nature to listen to boring lectures and sit through assignments he's already done hundreds of times.

All of his education from being young royalty paid off but ultimately amounts to nothing, because if he wants to graduate he still has to do this all over again.

He's a hunter, so he's not opposed to sitting and lying in wait if there's a promise of reward at the end. If all this sitting around with a twitching ear and bored sigh would amount to anything he'd be a little less annoyed with attending.

And there was one, originally. A thing, that Leona had wanted (which he can only admit to himself begrudgingly) that was worth hauling his ass out of the peaceful botanical garden and into class today. That very thing which is currently giggling their heart out to one of those idiot freshman from the Heartslyabul dorm.

Tick, tick, tick. Leona snaps his jaw close and tears his eyes from the sight, nose scrunched in frustration with a knuckle pushed against his temple.

He wants to go back to his dorm. But he can't. He won't until he gets what he even came for.

The presence of another person alerts his senses, but he relaxes upon realizing it's Ruggie, sitting on the edge of his desk with that usual smug air about him. Leon passes him a glance but doesn't say a word.

"Somethin' troublin' you, my liege? Shyehehe."

Leona all but growls.

"Shut your trap or I'll hang you up by your tail."

"Ouch. That bothered by it, huh?"

"I'm not bothered by squat."

Ruggie laughs hard at that and Leona considers throwing him through a wall. Ruggie is also looking ahead where you at, staring a little more openly than Leona is. He whistles under his breath. He can't remember the names of the two brats, but they're always together. One of them with orange hair and the other with the short blue.

"They're pretty close with those two, yanno. Heard they were having sleep-overs and all durin' their first year.''

Leona narrows his eyes. The clock ticks on. Ruggie grins and Leona knows he should just up and leave. It's stupid to be hanging around here. It's lame that he's even looking. He should just go up there and—

"They're best friends, basically. Been like that since before you two had a thing going too. Way before that, I think."

Leona knows well enough what Ruggie is doing. What Hyena's are good at, goading his annoyance to push him to act. He's looking for a show, and Leona is nearly tempted to give him one. Nearly.

You're not the fierce type like the women back home. You probably wouldn't think twice about it, just bat your little lashes and wave your friends goodbye like the herbivore you are if he decided to drag you away. You'd pester him, follow him around while he acted moody and cold for a while before frowning.

You'd get mad at first, before huffing and saying sorry for something you didn't even do. Mumbling and poking around until Leona eventually drags you in his bed to nap instead of being outright about any of it. If his sister-in-law knew he was acting like such a kid to his woman, he'd never hear the end of it. It's that voice in his head that keeps him stuck in his chair, seething.

"Not like you to be so docile, King." Ruggie says. Leona shoots him a mean enough glare that he backs away in fear.

It's not like he's being docile. Not really. There's more to it than that.

Thing is, Leona is used to being chased. Regardless of his inferiority in birthright, he's still royalty. Royalty means plenty of people itching to get in his good graces to get a taste of the highlife. Leona is used to cheap tactics of seduction and luxury in order to earn his favor - he can smell it from away. He's always half expecting to uncover secret intentions.

It never happens. You are all by all measures, frustratingly sincere. Leona doesn't really know how to respond to it. You don't pay mind to his royalty or his ability aside from a normal amount of awe. You're an herbivore firstly, and a stranger to this world after that. Whatever traits in Leona you've latched onto, he can't wrap his head around nor does he understand.

It's the first time in his life that he's gotten into a romantic entanglement like this. Where everything is all lovey-dovey and things are so important. He's always been respectful to his women but he's never been seriously in love in his life. It's different from just being decent. He cares what you think to an extent that's unfamiliar. It's not like he'd ever fix his mouth to say all that, but it really matters that he does things the right way.

Leona doesn't usually act in self-interest, to begin with. Cocky as he may be - he's still king and kings act in the interest of his people. Regardless of what it looks like, you are part of his people. His pride, in more simple terms.

It's not being docile as much as it's an effort to show some respect for you.

Leona isn't usually jealous about petty, trivial shit. It doesn't matter to him what you do or who you do it with in your own time. He likes that you're independent, too.

He is however, a territorial apex predator and a prince. For better or for worse whenever he looks at you, all he can see is to prey animals encroaching on his territory.

That's the part of him that's raring to go. Teeth clenched and agitated, brows all drawn together in frustration. Leona wants to go back to his dorm, but he wont without what he came for. It's putting him in a bad mood.

But ultimately, he doesn't move from his spot. Ruggie leaves eventually when his mood has soured completely. His head is on the desk and he's got his eyes closed, but his ears twitched at the sound of your chair dragging on the floor.

"Can you guys walk Grimm back to the door? I'm gonna go with Leona. Thanks! See you later,"

And just like that, the classroom clears of the last nuisances occupying it. Leaving only you and Leona and that ticking clock together.

He hears you walk up to him before he sees it. Your voice is annoyingly pleasant to listen to.

"Leona? You sleeping already?"

He's starting to understand why his older brother folded at every single word that came out of his sister-in-laws mouth. He lifts his head just barely to look at you and you're looking at him all wide-eyed. He wants to tick you off a little, but can't conjure up any ideas.

"You done with those little yippin' herbivores you call friends? Can we leave now?"

You frown.

"You're in a bad mood. And don't be mean to them, they are actually my friends, you know?"

He scoffs and your frown deepens.

"Leonaaa," You drag out the syllables of his name as you stand beside him "What's wrong with you?"

He hears you pull a chair up. When he finally sits up, you're sitting directly in front of him on a chair turned backwards. There's hardly any room between you. Your face is twisted up with worry.

Leona reaches to pinch your nose. You pull away making his lips twitch upward.

"I shouldn't've came to class." He complains. You rub your nose but don't say anything back, considering him.

"I didn't think it was that bad today though. I guess it might always be for you though since you know like, everything, but I don't—"

Before you can keep going, he leans forward to press his lips to yours. It shuts you up effectively. Your lips are soft. They're sweet and a little sticky - mouth warm and welcoming.

When he pulls away, you blink at him.

"What were you sayin'." He asks.

You look a little taken aback.

"I don't know. Oh, uhm. I liked the lesson. It's fun to learn stuff about this world, I guess." You stumble over your words like you're shy. It's ironic to him, but charming all the same.

He grins.

"What? You nervous after a little kiss?" He teases.

You flush.

"You're not usually that forward, dummy. Which brings me to my question again, what's up? You're sulking."

"What the hell? I'm not sulkin'"

"Yes you are. Your doing the little nose scrunch thing too. Did something happen?"

He pushes the comment about his nose scrunch away entirely because he's sure thinking about too long is gonna get on his nerves. He glares at you for a while, debating on what he should say. Truth is, he is a little pissed. But he isn't going to tell you that your little chat with friends is making him territorial. That would be ridiculous.

There's a brief moment of silence before you pause. You tilt your head, eyes shining with curiosity.

"...Were you lonely?" You suggest.

His face drops.

"You're not the jealous type usually, but you're like a big overgrown kitty. So, you missed me right? That's why you're moping?"

The tone of your voice makes him want to pinch you again.

"Watch your mouth, herbivore." He grits, agitation rolling back into his tone like a wave. And you laugh, the nerve of you. Giggle a little as you lean in closer.

"You didn't say no."

"Shut up." He says, weakly.

"Leona," You say his name again, a little sweeter. Purposefully full of affection and he hates everything about how mushy it's making him feel. You reach your hand up to his head, petting behind his ears in the place you know he likes "I'm sorryyy,"

"Do you go 'nd tuck your tail between your legs like this for everyone? Where's your self-respect, huh?" He means to say with a lot more characteristic sarcasm.

But it all comes out gross and sweet sounding instead.

"Mm, no? It's just that my boyfriend is pretty shit at being honest about his feelings so if I don't dote on him he'll wither away like a houseplant and—"

He covers your mouth with his hand and glares at you, faux annoyed. And you're giggling against his palms, all bely laughs. It's all a little nauseating for him. He pulls away by cupping your jaw instead, squishing your face together.

"When'd you get so damn mouthy?" He grumbles.

"Since forever ago." You say through squished lips. He huffs, leaning forward to kiss you a second time. You're all soft everywhere. Squishy and mellow. Leona kisses you three times in the process, each one a little more impatient than the last before releasing you.

He doesn't let go, hand going to cup the back your neck instead. He cradles your head close, sighing against your mouth.

"Annoying," He says. You smile at him and he has to look away to deal with the intensity of it.

"You love me." You say with a smile. If only you knew the half of it.

He doesn't say that of course. Just scoffs as he stands to his feet, dragging you with him. He curls an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him. The warmth of your body makes him purr.

"In your dreams. You owe me for cuttin' into my naptime."

"What can I do for you my liege?" You say sarcastically, grabbing his hand openly. He squeezes it "You wanna take a nap with me?"

"Can't promise I'll get you in my bed and not fuck you about it." He says with a lazy chuckle. You nudge his side.

"You're so crass."

"You love me," He mocks. You huff.

"Unfortunately, I do. Could use some rest though," You yawn, and blinking blearily "So nap time it is. 'kay?"

He kisses the side of your head.

"Sounds good t'me."

#leon x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #writing tag #if anyone says anything about me posting this ill explode myself in the michaelwave.... please do not #i was so haunted by this i just needed to get it out of me i am not even. look #i cant explain it like i started sweating

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mychlapci · 4 months ago

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Sorry my liege... this peasant is doing such a poor job at not clogging the royal inbox...

Absolute nonsense idea today but consider if fulcrum's k-con reframing came with cat ears and tail. The minor code alterations based on the cybercat and those additional audial receptors help them target better. They do essentially have to learn to airdive in basically no time at all, so any additional sensors really help. And honestly the only reason the choice form factor of said sensors is Cat Ears is purely for the humiliation aspect. The k-cons were set for death after all. High Command would have wanted this to be as unpleasant as possible.

Anyway I don't think it would have bothered fulcrum too much at first. He was going to be deactivated anyway like. Who cares about some cat ears.

Later tho. When he eventually wakes up again, somehow still alive... well... suddenly he's here to stay. Suddenly he has a team of sorts. And suddenly he has to deal with the mortifying reality of having these funny appendages.

Really living for the first time in a long long time, and especially having other mechs around to comment on them, he starts to realise those appendages do quite a lot of things. They move around. A lot.

The tail is so stupid. It flicks around all the time. He accidentally whacks his tail too hard on objects around him a few times and it hurts. It also flicks around when he's excited and curls around when he's nervous- It's embarrassing really.

Or maybe it wouldn't have been so embarrassing if his weird little posse didn't keep pointing them out. They really don't need to keep telling him when his tail flicks around. He doesn't need to know!!!

Misfire especially. The jet loves to tell him exactly when he sees the thing move. Its like really bad sports commentary. Oh it's swooshing!! Look it's all bristled now!! Fluffy!!! He doesn't want to know. He doesn't want to know he's 'cute'

The ears are somehow even worse. They're even more closely linked to his emotions, if that was even possible. Sometimes he may look passive, but those ears give him away. Not that he would usually mind. But he does mind when misfire takes every opportunity to be like 'awwww you sad? Your kitty ears look sad'

....the only good thing about the appendages turns out to be that they do feel kinda good. Misfire loves to grab anything he can get his sticky servos on. It's no surprise when he pokes at fulcrum's ears one day, happily kicking his legs when the fluffy ears twitch.

It's stupid and annoying and fulcrum swats at misfire in hopes of getting the mech to stop. Or at least he does until the poking and prodding suddenly morphs into gentle scratching. Misfire's digits smooth over the fur and then start scratching behind his ears.

Fulcrum just melts immediately. It feels like he's lost power to all his joints. His struts cease to exist. Even the little servos that control every flick and swivel of his stupid ears relax.

He finds himself slumping onto the jet, engine purring as he struggles to keeps his optics online.

He doesn't know what's come over him but it feels good. He continues to lay against misfire even as the other's servos wander. He's stroked along the back of his helm, down his back... His engine continues to purr in contentment.

But when misfire's servo reaches the base of his back strut, stroking over the base of his tail, it's really good. It's a little bit too good. He arches a little into the touch and he hears misfire giggle. Stupid mech probably thinks it's funny.

An amused misfire is a troublesome one, usually. His digits wrap around the base of the tail and stroke, sending a shiver down fulcrum's back struts. It's kinda weird but he doesn't quite have it in him to tell misfire to stop

The digits sink lower until they press against the joint between the tail and his aft. He really should have realised this was bad when he actually pressed back into the touch, lifting his hips to push against the fingers.

By the time misfire starts massaging the base of his tail, it's too late. It's too late to realise he's been feeling the Wrong Kind of Good as he very nearly lets a needy mewl escape his vocaliser.

He would pull away- he would- but that would be suspicious now, wouldn't it? He'd let it get this far. It would be weird to suddenly jump away. That's the only reason he stays. Really. That's the only reason he lets misfire continue to push his digits into the base of his tail.

He tries his best to keep his hips still. He is Not going to start rutting against his crewmate. If he's good at anything, it's forcing joints to keep still.

It's tempting though. It's very tempting. His panels ping him incessantly to release his array, but he dismisses every alert. He tries to keep his hot little pants quiet as misfire continues to toy with his the base of his tail.

He's determined to be still. He won't be weird about this. He won't be suspicious at all-

But it turns out maybe he does too good a job at being uninteresting. He hears something crash down the hallway and misfire is immediately on his pedes, wings perking up in interest, and running towards the noise.

"Wait-!"

Fulcrum whines, suddenly alone, plating burning and array aching. At least that solves one of his problems. Kind of.

this one has been around for like a month and i honestly have 0 idea what to do about this one. All I can say is that i admire horny cat boy Fulcrum and an oblivious idiot Misfire.

Now that I'm here, actually, I wonder if Fulcrum has spines on his spike. There is no practical reason for it, but since he's already a cat boy, we can dream...

#valveplug #texty #what do i tag here

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wilders-girl · 2 years ago

Text

I Collect Spores, Mold, and Fungus.

Egon Spengler x Fem!Reader

PG, fluff, but also angst. I am a sad person I cannot help myself

Mild cursing, Egon feels undeserving of reader's luv, bro cries, reader cries, everyone cries, mutual pining but they're painfully unaware

3,428 words

Not proofread bc I'm silly 🤯

This was 100% an impulse write and it was created from the hours of 12-2 AM for a fortnight. Not my best work but I am in love with this silly goofy fellow. Ray is there!!! And mentions of the other guys too! Hope u enjoy ♡

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"So, what kind of hobbies do you have?" I meekly asked, watching Egon work from afar.

"I collect spores, mold, and fungus." He answered without skipping a beat.

I was startled at his quick answer, but responded soon enough that he wouldn't think I was judging him.

"That's quite interesting, actually." I spoke. "Do you have to take care of them like a houseplant, or something?"

Now it was his turn to look startled, glancing up at me for a moment before resuming his work.

"In a way, yes. I observe their progress as they grow and record differences between members of the same species and such."

He adjusted the dial on his microscope and changed the slide.

"Obviously, they're less demanding than a houseplant." He finished.

"I can understand that." I nodded.

"God, it seems like houseplants are allergic to tap water. Only the finest H2O for you, my liege!" I joked, shaking my head.

The corners of his mouth pulled up in a small smile, and I felt my heartbeat quicken at the sight.

A moment of silence passed before I spoke again.

"Fungi sound easier to take care of by a long shot. Do you have any favorite types?"

He paused his research and looked up at me, seemingly amazed again.

I had an apologetic expression and started to stand up from my awkward position on the couch.

"Sorry if I'm bothering you, I can go back upstairs if you'd like-."

"No!" He interjected, wide-eyed.

"Sorry. I just…" He trailed off for a second, analyzing the best way to say what he wanted to.

"I didn't expect you to actually be interested in my hobby." He spoke slowly, as if each word carried more meaning than at face value.

"I didn't think anyone cared."

"Oh, Spengs," I placed my hand on my chest. "I'm sorry. If it means anything, I'm not lying. I really do think it's interesting."

I felt a wave of sadness envelop me as I realized how he'd felt all this time. Reading between the lines, I knew what he really meant.

"I didn't think anyone cared about me."

He swallowed and locked eyes with me, his eyebrows furrowed in sincerity.

"Thank you."

His voice carried heavy emotion, very off-brand for the usually stoic scientist.

Snapping out of his trance, he got up from his desk himself and walked over to me.

"Would you like to see my favorite specimens?" His voice was quiet, very hesitant. Like if he spoke too loudly, I'd disappear.

I smiled up at him, and we made eye contact again.

"I'd love to."

I felt something change between us the moment we looked into each other’s eyes. He let his shoulders relax a little, he smiled a little wider than his typical smirk, and his gaze softened behind those thick glasses. The most insignificant changes meant so much for a man like him. I could tell, though, at that moment, that he trusted me. Somehow, this cold, unsociable man allowed me into his world, a heavily guarded fortress. All because I showed him a little bit of love. And he had no idea how much I had to give him.

After putting on sterile gloves, he carefully took a petri dish from the top rack, closest to the heat lamp, and showed me a funky looking pink fuzz.

"This," He began, a smug look appearing on his face, "Is one of my top three favorite specimens. This is fusarium oxysporum, a type of filamentous fungi that occurs most commonly as a soil-borne pathogen to many plants. This one's a tough specimen; it's survived nearly every experiment I've put it through."

I analyzed it in his hands, admiring the dark magenta color.

"Why is this one of your favorites?" I asked, looking back up at him.

He looked away in embarrassment.

"I like the color." He muttered.

I laughed softly at that.

"I expected a more scientific answer, Dr." I joked.

He sighed and looked for another specimen near the middle racks, and I laughed again at his shyness.

"Ah. There it is." He sported his signature half-smile.

He brought out a piece of a tree branch, and his eyes gleamed.

"This one is terana caerulea, also known as the velvet blue spread. It's a saprobic crust fungus commonly found on the underside of fallen trees in deciduous forests."

"I really like the texture of this one!" I looked at the specimen closely. "It really is like velvet."

"Mhm. This one was the most vivid sample I could find when Ray forced us to go camping upstate a few years back. As you can see, it's been doing pretty well, too."

I snickered at the thought of the boys, especially Egon, going camping. It just didn't sound real.

"And why is this one of your favorites, Dr?" I teased.

He looked down at me and smiled.

"I like the color."

I laughed again, missing the look of adoration he sent me as I did.

"Is it your favorite color?" I asked once I regained my composure.

Looking away quickly to hide the fact he was looking so intently at me, he nodded.

"I guess it is."

I kept that in the back of my mind. Just in case I needed that information someday.

He discarded his gloves, washed his hands and walked back over to his desk, and I followed, standing a polite distance from him. I needed to tell him something.

"Hey, Spengs?" I quietly asked.

He turned around and raised an eyebrow, leaning on the desk.

I fidgeted with the ring on my little finger.

"I really like talking to you, you know. I think you're great."

I paused, looking at the floor.

"I guess it's because you treat me like an equal. I guess more like an actual human being if we're comparing you to Venkman. But, like, I never feel stupid or out of place when I'm around you. It's the opposite, actually. I feel really comfortable around you. You make me really happy, Egon."

I smiled at the ground, feeling as though I'd just run a marathon. My face was terribly overheated, I could feel it. For a second, I regretted this random burst of confidence and wanted to crawl into a hole and rot so maybe he'd collect the fungus growing on my dead body.

I looked up at him for a quick second and saw him with furrowed brows and pursed lips. Tears were threatening to spill over his eyes as he looked away from me.

I automatically assumed the worst and let my arms hang limp at my sides in my shameful retreat upstairs. I did too much.

"Aw, Spengler, I'm sorry -"

I was cut off by the feeling of arms wrapping tightly around my torso in a hug before I could take a step away.

I was shocked. It took me a couple of seconds to realize what was going on and melt into the sensation.

He shook gently in my arms as silent sobs escaped him.

I closed my eyes and whispered sweet nothings to him while rubbing circles on his back. It probably looked a little awkward from an outsider's perspective since he was bent so far over my smaller frame, but I wouldn't have had it any other way.

For a moment, I tried to discard my feelings for him. I told myself he needed me as a friend at that moment, and blinked back a few tears of my own as I realized a friend was all he wanted me as, selfish as it was in that moment.

I tried to calm the fluttering in my heart as he held me even closer and let out a shaky sigh.

"I'm sorry, I should have asked -"

It was my turn to cut him off now.

"Hey, don't be sorry. You're alright. I'm here for you." I spoke softly in the crook of his neck.

He pulled away, to my dismay, and immediately looked at the ground, upset at himself.

"This is completely irrational of me, I'm truly very sorry." He mumbled.

I reached a hand out towards his, silently asking permission to hold it.

He hesitantly took my shaky hand in his cold one.

"I should be the one to apologize, Egon. I brought it up out of nowhere, and it was just weird of me to say. I'm sorry for making things weird. I just wanted you to know that you're appreciated, and I really do think you're worth my attention and time.

He whispered my name.

"You make me happy too." He was still looking down, but a bit of the sadness was erased from his eyes.

"Ever since I met you, you've brought me nothing but happiness in my life. Nobody really tries to understand me like you do. And…"

He slightly tightened his grip on my hand.

"I'm sorry if I ever make it seem like I don't value you. I'm aware that I don't express my emotions as clearly as other people, but I wish I was clearer with you. You are one of my favorite people. You mean a lot to me as a friend."

I felt my heart drop a little at those words, and I looked at the floor. I mentally cursed myself for focusing on the "friend" part, when it was obvious he needed me to be a friend and be there for him right now.

"You mean a lot to me in general." He paused.

"Maybe even beyond friendship." He spoke under his breath. If there had been any other noise, I wouldn't have heard him say it.

I snapped my head up to look at him in shock.

He took off his glasses and wiped away the remnants of his tears with the sleeve of his lab coat, breaking our hand-holding and eye contact.

I couldn't muster up the courage to say anything as he put his glasses back on and looked at me confused.

"Are you alright?" He said my name.

I still couldn't speak, and all I could do was look up at him. Maybe I was hearing things. Swallowing thickly, I broke our eye contact again.

"Shit." He muttered, quickly bringing a hand up over his mouth.

I looked back up at him to see his face creased in worry.

"Did I say that out loud?"

I felt my ears go hot and looked away while nodding.

He hissed a string of profanities and turned around to rummage through the drawers in his desk.

"I'm sorry," He shakily said my name, "I wasn't thinking straight. Please forgive me. It's unlike me to speak without thinking, God I'm an idiot!" He rambled, still looking through his drawers with a prominent redness in his cheeks.

"Did you mean it?" I whispered, effectively snapping him out of his quest.

He made eye contact with me, brows knotted, and opened his mouth like he was going to speak but decided against it. He began to scour the drawers again.

"There it is." He pulled out a small journal and clutched it tightly.

He stared intently down at it, eyes flitting to me occasionally as he spoke.

"I'm not very good at… conversing 'without a script', so to speak."

He cleared his throat.

"I, uh, figured it would be better for me to not… speak… when this situation came around."

He held his lips shut and handed the book towards me with a shaky hand. His eyes were still trained on the book, even though I was looking at him.

I hesitantly accepted the journal from him and looked at him to ask permission to read it. He nodded and leaned against the desk, picking at his fingers in anxiety as I opened it to the first page.

---

10/3

We hired a new worker today. She's going to assist Janine in taking calls. I overheard some of the interview walking upstairs to get food, and it seems she's more well-versed in paranormal studies than Janine. I might have to quiz her on that later.

10-27

After getting to know her a little better, I've decided she is worthy of entering my lab. I let her come down today to investigate, and she seemed quite intrigued by the happenings down here. I wonder what she found so fascinating. I couldn't ask her, I'm not sure why.

10-30

It's become increasingly more difficult for me to speak to her about personal affairs. I'm still unsure why. She's easy to get along with, and I seem to be able to converse with her just fine, but I freeze up when she does certain things.

11-2

I've noticed a pattern with the phenomena that triggers my inability to interact with her. I've found that it happens most when she smiles or laughs, gets close to me, makes physical contact with me, etc. The PKE didn't pick up any suspicious readings from her, so maybe there's something wrong with me. I'll run an experiment tomorrow.

11-3

The research shows I'm completely fine, but she still renders me speechless. After work today, she changed into a very flattering dress, saying that she was going out with her friend for drinks. It was, at face value, a regular dress. Though, somehow, it looked stunning on her. I didn't realize I was smiling until she pointed it out. I fear that I might have a different problem than I imagined.

11-15

My problem is most definitely not paranormal. It's biological. She was in the lab again today, helping me with my temperature-related differentiation study with the penicillium species. She comes down here on slow days when Janine tells her she can handle the work. When I moved to take the petri dish out of her hand, I accidentally brushed my fingers with hers and almost dropped the specimen. She was warm, but that wasn't what was alarming to me. I simply enjoyed the feeling. I enjoyed her presence, and I enjoyed her as a person in my life. I liked seeing her happy, and couldn't bear seeing her sad. I realized a simple truth at that moment: she made me happy and I wanted to make her happy too. Irrational it may seem, but she means the world to me.

11-22

I have come to a conclusion. How can I tell her without making a fool of myself? I fear it cannot be done. I can't say my feelings aloud to her. But I need to let her know how much she means to me.

11-23

I'm giving her this journal.

11-27

Since you've come this far in reading this, I want to tell you the facts, since it's easiest for me to think in a logical way. After running some studies on myself, i've come to some conclusions. When I make physical contact with you, my heartbeat quickens an average of 15%. After a prolonged interaction with you, I've recorded that the dopamine levels in my brain rise around 3 pg/ml. I find that when you're gone, I think about you around 2 times per minute; sometimes more, sometimes less. It's so comfortable for me to live in the analytical, logical world, but oftentimes you make me want to forget the science. You've made me feel things I just cannot explain. You have made me smile more than I have in years. I just feel happier with you, I don't know how to explain it. I have this irrational yearning for you. I want to see you happy, and I want to be the cause for your happiness. I want to be near you and see you at all times so I never forget how beautiful you are. I want to touch you, to be close to you so you can fill me with the warmth you bring in my heart. That, I can't explain. Therefore, logical or not, the signs point to one clear idea. I am in love with you. I felt you needed to know. I couldn't keep making excuses for my strange behavior. Thank you for reading this.

---

I closed the journal and felt a tear drip off my face. Wiping my eyes, I didn't realize I'd been crying until I felt the cold wetness against my fingertips. I sat there for a minute, collecting my thoughts and composure, and set the book down on Egon's desk.

Without a second thought, I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around him. This time, not bothering to be reserved with my emotions. I held him to me as tight as I could and felt euphoric by his reciprocal. I closed my eyes and let myself enjoy the feeling like I was on cloud nine.

Breathing in his scent one last time, I pulled away slightly and looked up at him. I probably looked like shit, but I didn’t care.

"I love you, too." I smiled.

He breathed out a sigh of relief and we went right back to our embrace.

I giggled, thinking about how nervous he was to not mess anything up. He was always so considerate of me. I didn't know why I never realized it. Then again, I guess he didn't realize it either.

He muttered my name, and I pulled away again to look at him, though I'd have stayed entwined with him forever if I could.

"Thank you." He smiled softly at me.

I reached for his hands and held them level with my shoulders as I leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek.

He blinked a couple times and looked away shyly, a rose tinge washing over his cheeks and ears. I could only giggle at how adorable he looked at that moment. I never wanted to stop kissing him.

He pulled away, still smiling, and shut off his machinery for the evening. I reached for the journal again and smiled, thinking of the unspoken words in there. I learned that he was not a man of few words, rather, he just didn't voice his thoughts aloud. What he did say aloud was always the most meaningful or efficient of his thoughts.

"It's late." He spoke softly, turning around to face me. "You should get some rest."

I rolled my eyes.

"And you shouldn't?"

"I can function on an hour of sleep, thank you very much." He teased.

"Tell you what, Dr. I'll sleep if you sleep." I raised my eyebrows in mock defiance.

"There's no way to hold each other accountable for that, you know. You could be lying and stay up another few hours."

I clicked my tongue and pointed at him.

"That's exactly what someone who isn't about to sleep would say."

He shook his head with a half-smile.

"What, do you plan to hold me accountable somehow? Make me pay if I don't follow your bidding?"

I cocked my head, pretending to think about it.

"Doesn't sound half bad, actually. Renowned scientist Egon Spengler groveling at the feet of a woman who wants him to sleep."

He laughed, the sound I love so much. Then, an idea popped into my head. I slowly let my grin grow like a Cheshire cat.

"What if I did hold you accountable?"

He narrowed his eyes on me in confusion.

"If you crash at my place, I'd know you aren't cheating."

His eyes widened, and he suddenly took off his glasses to inspect them so as to break our eye contact.

But he didn't refuse.

I slowly stepped closer to him and took the glasses out of his hands to make him look at me again.

"What do you say, Spengs?" I innocently batted my eyelashes at him.

He looked away and swallowed, clearly flustered.

"You can say no." I spoke in a more serious tone, handing him back his glasses.

He put them back on and looked down at me with a surprising amount of confidence in his eyes, demeanor, and voice.

"Deal." He muttered.

—

We left the station shortly after, quietly conversing on our way out. Ray was still working on the Ecto-1 and squinted up at us from the car. His eyes widened when they landed on our entwined hands, and the cigarette almost fell out of his mouth in a shocked expression.

Egon turned around briefly and gave him a look I couldn't figure out. Ray nodded in acceptance and went back to work, whispering a "good night, you two," probably not to wake Peter "Sleeping Beauty" Venkman upstairs. With a wave and a smile, we exited the premises.

He fell asleep first.

—

A/n: oh my days writing this HEALED me. I've been in a tough situation with someone irl for a couple months and it just killed any semblance of happiness I believed still lived in me. Like seriously I try to play it off bc I'm cool but it made me really sad. AND COMBINED W SCHOOL I JUST. seething. But I'm back!!! And fictional men are helping me regain my hope for humanity (and maybe men). Sorry for the long break, but I am back on my bullshit now 😈

#egon spengler x reader #ghostbusters egon #egon x reader #egon spengler #ghostbusters #oneshot

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mysteryshoptls · 1 year ago

Text

SR Lilia Vanrouge Halloween Personal Story

"I shall scare the pants off of you"

[Interior Hallway]

Ace: The Halloween Steering Committee members were meeting somewhere in one of these classrooms, right?

Ace: I got told to come submit an application for the magic we're planning on using for our effects, but…

Ace: Man, Riddle-ryōchō's so impatient, Cater-senpai woulda been back at the dorm soon enough if he had just waited a bit longer.

Sebek: SILVER!!! YOU STILL PLAN ON SLEEPING!?!

Ace: Hm? That loud voice is…

Ace: Yup, just like I thought, Sebek… Oh, and Silver-senpai. Heeey, what are you guys doing here?

Sebek: Hmph… Ace.

Sebek: There are some decorations we want the Young Master and Lilia-sama review, for their approval. We are waiting for the meeting to end.

Ace: Can't you just shoot them a text or something, askin' 'em to let you know when they're done with the meeting?

Ace: That way you don't have to be waiting around here for the meeting to end.

Sebek: How dare you suggest I would use a phone to contact either of them!? I would never be able to do something so impertinent!!!!!

Ace: Uh-huh. Well, don't know how impertinent it is, but I guess we're stuck waiting here together until the meeting is over.

[clamor, clamor]

Ace/Silver/Sebek: …

Silver: Zzz…

Sebek: SILVER! DON'T LEAN AGAINST ME!!!!

Silver: Ah! Apologies.

Ace: Sebek, dude, your voice is way too loud. They're having a meeting in there, so you gotta turn your volume down.

Sebek: Urgh… True, I certainly cannot bother the young master in the course of his duties.

Ace: And he's probably falling asleep 'cause you guys're just standing there, yeah?

Ace: If you're gonna shout at him every time to stay awake, then why don't you tell a cool story or two instead?

Sebek: A cool story, hm. Well, now that you mention it, last night, my liege…

Ace: There it is, "my liege." Yeah, no talking about a topic that's only exciting to you.

Sebek: Why?! He is a topic that should excite anyone!

Ace: Oh hey, here's an idea. Don't you have any interesting tidbits of Halloween in Briar Valley?

Sebek: Halloween doesn't differ much between countries, does it?

Silver: Actually… From what I've heard from my father, Halloween celebrations can differ greatly among countries and cultures.

Silver: The other day, Azul explained how Halloween was celebrated in the Coral Sea, and it is vastly different from both how Briar Valley and this school celebrates it.

Sebek: Wha― Is that true!? …A-Ahem! Then I suppose I can speak a little bit on the matter!

Sebek: In Briar Valley, we carve our lanterns out of wood. I don't believe the purpose changes much from the ones made from pumpkins…

Ace: Cool, what else?

Silver: Also… When the moon is directly overhead in the night sky, scarecrows are set alight in the castle square, and everyone dances around them in costume.

Ace: I see. Kinda feels like a midnight costume dance party.

Sebek: It is not that sort of frivolous affair. It is a festival for ghosts where evil spirits run rampant!

Sebek: …When I think back to that one Halloween 10 years ago, it sends shivers down my spine…

Ace: C'mon～ You're TOTALLY just exaggerating now.

Sebek: THIS IS NOT AN EXAGGERATION!!!!!!

Sebek: YOU CAN ONLY SAY SUCH THINGS BECAUSE YOU KNOW NOTHING!!!!

Silver: He's right… It's just as Sebek says. Halloween in Briar Valley is… truly terrifying…

Ace: Eeh? If even Silver-senpai is saying that, then…

[door creaks open]

Lilia: Sebek, Silver, sorry to keep you waiting. We could hear your voice from inside.

Malleus: I do not mind you waiting for us, but be a little quieter while the meeting is in session.

Sebek: M-My apologies…

Cater: Oh? Hey, Ace-chan's here too. What's up?

Ace: Riddle-ryōchō told me to bring these docs to you, so I came. Here you go.

Ace: And then, I was bored while waiting around for ya, so I asked them about Halloween in Briar Valley…

Ace: But then Sebek got all emotional, and was like, "There is nothing more terrifying!" or whatever.

Cater: Oooh, so Briar Valley's Halloween's that scary?

Cater: I hear that life in Briar Valley basically revolves around magic… Does that mean you guys put up all your decorations with magic, too?

Malleus: Indeed. A majority of the decorations are made with magic, yes. As for how terrifying it is, well, I would say that may differ on the person.

Ace: Seeee, so you guys are just scaredy-cats, huh?

Sebek: No, that's not true…!

Lilia: Kufufu. Regardless of whether Sebek is a "scaredy-cat" or not…

Lilia: It certainly is true that Halloween celebrations in Briar Valley are very different from here on campus.

Cater: Oooh, really? You know, your boy Cay-kun here really likes scary stories! Tell me some, Lilia-chan ♪

Lilia: Right. Well, let me thoroughly regale you some tales, as a knowledgeable ambassador of Briar Valley!

[Interior Hallway]

Lilia: When it comes to Halloween in Briar Valley… Hm, where should I start?

Malleus: As Diamond said earlier, the day-to-day life in Briar Valley revolves mostly on magic.

Lilia: Right. And consequently, that means that the Halloween lanterns are lit by fire magic, not LEDs.

Lilia: And the lanterns are all wood carved, not pumpkins.

Lilia: A majority of them have carved in them dragons, bats, and other ancestral creatures of the night.

Sebek: On Halloween day, there is a lighting ceremony in which our liege sets alight every lantern in the country with magic.

Sebek: Seeing the young master's noble yellow-green flames set all those lanterns alight can only be described as a wondrous sight in and of itself.

Ace: You light up every single lantern in your country by magic!?

Cater: Malleus-kun, your magic is outta this world!!

Malleus: Compared to the Queendom of Roses, Briar Valley is a small country, with not much territory, and even less people. It is not that impressive.

Lilia: That reminds me of the day that Malleus was first asked to light all the lanterns by the Queen.

Malleus: Lilia! Don't…!

Lilia: In his enthusiasm, Malleus miscalculated the strength of his magic, and burned down every single lantern in the country. It was quite the to-do.

Lilia: Houses and fields were burned to a crisp, and every citizen worked until morning to help extinguish the fire.

Malleus: …

Lilia: That incident was dubbed "The Halloween Fire" and has been burned into the Briar Valley history books.

Sebek: Amazing…! That is an astounding outcome, with how the entire population became aware of his wondrous power!

Ace: Sure, but isn't it uncool that houses burned down…?

Cater: Don't think I'd have expected any less from Malleus-kun. He's on a completely different level even from a young age.

Cater: But you know, I don't think I could see Malleus-kun dress up like a ghost, and say "Trick-or-Treat,"

Cater: Or even see him go around and get candy from all the neighbors～

Malleus: True, I have never done that. Although, to be fair, there is no custom in Briar Valley to hand out candy on Halloween, in the first place.

Cater: Woah, really!?

Ace: For us in the Queendom of Roses, it's basically the main Halloween event.

Lilia: Right. I also first learned of those customs to hand out candy when I traveled to other countries.

Lilia: That is a good custom. I love seeing all the pure-hearted kids so happy to receive their candy.

Lilia: That's why I wanted that for Silver, too… Unfortunately, my home was far too removed from the village.

Lilia: Since we couldn't go door-to-door, I made sure to give Silver the experience all by myself.

Silver: He knocked on my door over and over again, until his basket was full of candy.

Ace: Cool, so Silver-senpai, you're neighbors with Lilia-senpai?

Silver: Not exactly neighbors, more like… Well, I guess you could say that.

Lilia: It was so adorable watching Silver as he came and got candy again and again.

Lilia: He was always smiling so happily no matter how many times we did it.

Malleus: Oh, so the two of you were doing such things together.

Lilia: What, do you want to do it too, Malleus? Then, we can try it this year, if you want?

Malleus: Lilia, how old do you think I am?

Lilia: You can do fun things like this at any age.

Sebek: If you so will it, my liege, I shall give you candy whenever you wish!

Malleus: I said I would not do it, did I not? I am no longer a child.

Sebek: M-My apologies. I was out of line.

Lilia: Kufufu. The way you're acting right now is still just like a child would, Malleus, don’t you think?

Ace: But anyway, you guys said that Halloween in Briar Valley was terrifying, but I'm not hearing any scary stories.

Silver: The scariest part is the thing that happens around the scarecrows on the castle grounds.

Malleus: There is a custom in Briar Valley of burning scarecrows in the castle square at midnight on the eve of Halloween.

Malleus: And there, people dance around the burning scarecrows in ghostly garb 'til morning...

Ace: Oh yeah, the midnight costume dance party that they mentioned earlier?

Sebek: That's right… The most frightening sight is that of Lilia-sama's face illuminated by the flames as he dances around the burning scarecrows!!

Silver: Especially Halloween 10 years ago, now that was absolutely terrifying…

Silver: It was quite unsettling, something you would not expect from the Lilia-senpai you all are used to…

Malleus: Indeed… Even I feel a cold shiver down my spine whenever I think back to that day.

Lilia: What's with you all? I was just letting go and living fully with my youthful impetuousness.

Ace: I can't really see Lilia-sama's dancing being that scary just by the looks of him…

Sebek: YOU CAN ONLY SAY SUCH THINGS BECAUSE YOU HAVE SEEN NOTHING!!!!

Malleus: His writhing body was just like a viper, his laughter was so husky it felt as though a curse had been cast on all those who heard it.

Silver: His shadow stretched along the plaza flagstones as if it were a monstrous ogre coming to steal the children away.

Sebek: Both children and adults alike were so terrified by his appearance that everyone immediately ran home and awaited the next morning hoping the nightmare would pass.

Silver: I even heard that some children who witnessed Lilia-senpai's dance that night began wetting their beds again.

Ace: No way, you gotta be kidding me!

Cater: Ahahah, that's real awesome of you guys to eagerly jump on Lilia-chan's teasing like that～☆

Cater: Though, I'll admit that sometimes when Lilia-chan does his screamo in the Pop Music Club, it can be a little scary.

Silver/Malleus/Sebek: THE REAL LILIA (-SAMA/SENPAI) IS NOTHING LIKE WHAT YOU KNOW!!!

Ace/Cater: Eeeeh?

Lilia: Kufufu. Right now, I may be the cute and cuddly mascot of Diasomnia, but…

Lilia: Back in Briar Valley, I was feared as the "Menacing General"

Lilia: And if you want, I could show you my scariest scowl here and now…

Lilia: But maybe I should save that for Halloween.

Ace: You sure you wanna do that? That's just gonna make us expect something amazing.

Cater: I'm looking forward to then, Lilia-chan ♪

Lilia: Kufufu… Then I shall scare the pants off of you, just as you requested.

Lilia: I'm starting to really look forward to Halloween day, now.

Lilia: Trick-or-Treat!

Requested by Anonymous.

#twisted wonderland #twst #lilia vanrouge #ace trappola #cater diamond #malleus draconia #silver #sebek zigvolt #twst lilia #twst ace #twst cater #twst malleus #twst silver #twst sebek #twst translation #twst halloween #screaming halloween show

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 2 months ago

Note

What the heck is a “position of power” in fandom? I would like to go one (1) month without us redoing this argument

Anyways I have Covid again and I’m taking it well (I’m not lol, my last Covid stent gave me super bad permanent POTS and now I need a wheelchair, I keep quoting the IM BACK IN THE FUCKING BUILDING AGAIN) and wondering if you know any good sick/comfort fics. Or if you feel like sharing any hcs

Have a groovy one, my liege

-Fuckass Bob

Do you know what, I had forgotten all about that until I chanced a look at Tumblr this morning and was baffled by it all over again. I had more I wanted to say, but I don't think I can be bothered to exert any more energy on it!

I am so sorry to hear you've gotten COVID again - it seems to be doing the rounds at the moment, lots of people are getting it! Wishing you a speedy recovery.

Courted by the Dragon by @superprincesspea is an excellent comfort fic - it's a WIP, but there are plenty of chapters for you to work your way through. Hope you enjoy it!

#asked and answered #fuckass bob anon

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angelasscribbles · 2 years ago

Text

Dark Elf Chapter 3: Dhambion

Series: Dark Elf

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: none yet

Rating: R

Warnings for this chapter: Dark themes, mature themes

Word Count: 1,697

A/N: I posted a snippet of an upcoming chapter of this in a Sunday six, but that snippet got pushed to a future chapter because this is what happened when I started writing this one.

My other stuff: Master List.

“Get dressed. There’s a formal dinner tonight and you’re going as my guest.”

Liam had an annoying habit of just showing up in her room and making demands. It was tedious to do the bidding of others. She wasn’t a fan. If it weren’t for the bargain she had struck with the wizard she might have ripped his throat out by now.

But then she couldn’t toy with him, and he was oh-so-fun to toy with.

Dark, brooding, delicious.

She didn’t want his death; she wanted his surrender.

She had wanted it since the moment she’d seen him standing outside her summoning circle.

Deep in the bowels of the palace, under the basements, in a concealed chamber Maxwell Beaumont stood just outside the summoning circle he had cast as smoke swirled making it hard to see what was coalescing in the center.

“The summoning is complete, My Liege.”

Liam watched in fascination as the smoke slowly cleared revealing what Maxwell’s net had caught.

He sucked in a breath of shock as the most strikingly beautiful woman he had ever seen stared back at him from the center of the circle.

His interest in her, already great, was sharpened. He needed her for his immortality spell. Only a demon could kindle that particular type of magic. He had not considered what the demon he’d ordered summoned would look like because it hadn’t mattered. All that mattered was the spell.

But now that he’d seen her, thoughts of other activities fell through his head as he felt his cock twitch.

Her smile was somehow seductive and malicious at the same time as her eyes bore into him as if she could read his thoughts.

He shouldn’t be having sexual thoughts about a demon. She could easily kill him if not for the summoning circle that had her trapped.

That thought only heightened his arousal.

“Sorry to disturb you,” He greeted her, “But I have a proposition for you. My name is Liam, by the way. And yours is…?”

She gazed up at him in curiosity as she stepped closer to the barrier. She tilted her head as she studied his aura then she leaned forward and sniffed the air.

Her eyes glittered with amusement and malice, “I know who you are Liam Rys, you’re the halfling prince. Does being a half-blood bother you?”

“No.” He replied with equanimity.

“Hmm. And yet you had your wizard summon me rather than doing it yourself,” she said with a glance at the human magic user, “Why is that, halfling? Not capable of it? Can’t get it up? The magic, that is.” She threw her head back and laughed at her own joke.

“I can.” He remained unruffled, “But it is forbidden.”

Her head snapped forward to study him curiously, “But you’re not a member of the elven court. They shun you, why do you follow their rules?”

He bristled; she had finally gotten a reaction out of him.

She smiled at him, and it was a terrifying smile, “Oh, my darkling prince, you’re never going to get anywhere living by their rules!”

“Do all your guests have armed guards outside their rooms?” She inquired as she took the dress that he held out to her.

“Not all my guests have incinerated a man.”

“That fool Tariq tried to touch me against my will.” She said it without rancor. She wasn’t mad. She had been quite pleased to find that some small portion of her demonic powers were still functioning despite the manacle she had been persuaded to wear.

“Well, I guess he won’t make that mistake again.”

“Indeed.” A vicious smile spread across her face, “He was the definition of fuck around and find out.”

“Those guards are there to protect other fool men from themselves.”

“Maybe you should have summoned a demon with different abilities.”

“I don’t think Max was aware of your abilities.”

It was true. To summon a specific demon, you needed to know its name. Max had done a general summoning, he had cast a wide net and hoped for the best.

He’d had no idea that what he had summoned wasn’t a true demon.

A cambion was a human-demon hybrid. But Riley wasn’t a cambion.

Riley’s mother was a demon. Her father was a dhampir.

A dhampir was a human-vampire hybrid. But Riley wasn’t that either.

There was no word for a demon-vampire hybrid because there had never been one before.

Riley was something different. Something new.

A demon and a vampire shouldn’t have been able to produce a child together. But her mother had desired a child and she was a powerful demon with strong magic.

It didn’t matter that she was only half demon. She possessed the power to kindle the spell.

The manacle that adorned her right arm was forged by human magic and it was designed specifically to repress demon magic.

It did nothing to dampen her vampiric senses and abilities.

The ability to entrance humans was a power she had inherited from her father.

“Let me show you why it’s pointless to have a human guard me.” Riley walked to the door and fixed the guard with a piercing stare, “What’s your name?”

“Marco.” He answered.

She stepped close to him and touched his face, “Look at me, Marco.”

The young guard’s eyes traveled slowly up to meet hers. She smiled as her fingers caressed his face. Her voice was low and sultry and full of magic as she crooned his name.

Liam could feel the pull of the enchantment from where he was standing.

“Lay your weapon down and come here.” She told him as she turned and walked back into the room.

He quickly dropped his firearm and followed her into the room.

Marco was about an inch shorter than Liam, a little broader in the shoulders, with hair almost as dark. He wasn’t unappealing.

She stepped closer to him and ran a finger down his face as she whispered, “Would you die for me, Marco?”

“Yes!” Came the immediate answer, his eyes full of longing and desire.

“Okay!” Liam cut in, “You’ve proven your point. Stop!”

Her eyes were nearly as black as his own and they glittered with delight as she turned her head to him, “What’s wrong my halfling prince? Are you jealous?”

“Release the enchantment and I’ll send him away.”

“Maybe I don’t want to send him away. He looks like he could be fun and I’m thirsty.”

“You’re only a quarter vampire, you don’t need blood.”

“I don’t need it my prince, but I like it.” She told him as her fangs extended. She licked her lips as she brought her mouth to the guard’s neck.

Marco was rock hard and whimpering, “Bite me. Please!”

“That’s enough!” Liam thundered, “Release the mortal and I’ll give you my blood!”

“Really?” That was intriguing.

She released the human and stepped away.

Marco shook his head as if to clear it and looked around the room in confusion, “Your Majesty? Lady Riley? How did I get in here?”

“You were feeling dizzy, Marco,” Liam lied, “Overworked most likely. Take the rest of the day off, go see the palace doctor.”

“O…k…” he backed slowly out of the room and retrieved his gun from the hallway floor.

Liam was across the room in a flash, grabbing her by the forearm and jerking her forward, “If you want blood, take mine!”

She turned her eyes to him as she listened with her enhanced hearing to his heartbeat as it quickened. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

He dropped her arm and took a step back, “Don’t flatter yourself! I just know that you won’t drain me. I’m merely protecting my men from you.”

The terms of the bargain they’d struck forbade her from harming either the wizard or the elf for the duration of their contract.

After that, all bets were off.

Maxwell was counting on sending her back to hell before she could exact any type of vengeance, but she had no plans of leaving any time soon.

The halfling would give her everything she needed. He just didn’t know it yet.

She sidled slowly closer to him, step by incremental step until she was mere inches away. Until she could hear the blood as it whooshed through his veins. Until she could see the pulse in his carotid artery. Until she could smell the elf pheromones he was pumping out in copious supply.

“Is that what you’re doing?” She whispered as she lowered her mouth to his neck. She scraped her fangs down the side of his neck, but not hard enough to actually draw blood.

He shuddered.

She tried to step away, but his hand shot out and encircled her wrist, “Why do you resist me?”

“It is you that resists me, my prince.”

“How do you figure that? I’m standing here offering you…whatever you want.”

“I want your blood, but I want it freely given.”

“I’m freely giving it now!” He protested.

“You’re not. You’re offering it to me in exchange for something.”

“I’ve asked you for nothing in return!”

“You asked me to spare the human. And I did.”

Not that she would have drained him. She had self-control and her demon blood canceled out the vampire’s blood lust. She didn’t need it for survival.

Oh, she liked it. But she could control it.

“I think you’re just toying with me,” He pushed her away, “This is some sort of demon trick.”

Demons were notoriously unreliable, deceitful by nature, and extremely untrustworthy.

“When I toy with you my prince, you’ll know it.” She grinned at him promisingly.

His pupils dilated.

The implied threat both concerned and excited him.

“Just get dressed and meet me downstairs in an hour,” he told her as he headed for the door, “I’ll remove the human guards and send someone better suited for the assignment.”

“Whatever you say, my prince.” She suppressed her gloating so he wouldn’t hear it in her voice.

She knew exactly who he would send.

It had been the entire reason for her little performance with the human guard.

Her plans were all coming together quite nicely.

#dark elf #dark fantasy #dark fanfiction #trr au #liam rys #angelasscribbles #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #choices trr #the royal romance #dark romance #trr #trr fanfic #trr fanfiction #trr liam #magic

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scifrey · 1 year ago

Text

Keepsakes

A Plane Ticket: Death & Destruction

Status: Complete

Series: the Hob Adherent series (this is the last story in the series. No, really, I mean it.)

Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022) Includes some comics canon, and some cameos from the wider Gaiman-verse, but it’s not necessary to know to enjoy the story.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Discussions of grief and in-canon character death.

Relationships: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Hob Gadling, Johanna Constantine, Despair of the Endless, Orpheus, the Kindly Ones

Summary:

Morph and Hob travel to Naxos for their honeymoon, but once there, Hob is tasked with a quest as Vassal of the Endless that will force Morph to confront and amend one of his greatest past cruelties.

Picks up directly after the epilogue of Cling Fast.

READ ON AO3 or below:

Part Three: Death & Destruction

The hike from the parking lot at Porto Gidi to the tip of the promontory just north of it takes most of the afternoon. They reach it just as Golden Hour is beginning, painting the sea and the long grass and wild vegetation around them with honey-amber light. They are tired in a way that is more than just physical by the time they reach the small, unassuming temple.

From the thin path worn through the scrub, the building appears abandoned, just another in a collection of neglected ancient buildings that have tumbled to ruin since the fall of the empire. But as Hob knows that the place is both occupied and used almost daily, and has only been around for a couple of centuries, Hob can admire the way the construction makes it look far less interesting and worthy of exploring than it is.

Like the “don’t mind me” circuit on the TARDIS, the little building—no bigger than a cottage, really—is hard to keep in his sights. His eyes and his mind keep sliding off of it, attention caught by an interesting animal call, or the shape of a cloud drifting overhead, or the pomegranate glow of the sun sinking toward the bed of the indigo-teal sea.

The only thing that is keeping him on track is the determined tromp of Morph by his side, his hand like a gravity well in Hob’s, and the fact that Despair is waiting for them outside of the temple.

“Sister,” Morph greets her, with a fond kiss on each cheek.

“Morpheus,” Despair returns, just as fondly. “I am sorry.”

“As am I,” Morph says, and looks up at the door. His face is painted with a carefully blank expression that hides, Hob knows, a wealth of trepidation and sorrow and anticipatory pain.

“Hob,” Despair says, as he drops to kiss her cheeks, too.

“What did I tell you about bothering me on my honeymoon?” Hob teases. “I had plans for a super romantic candle-lit tapas picnic on the beach tonight, I’ll have you know.”

Despair smiles beatifically. “Your sexual frustration is delicious.”

Hob chuffs a soft laugh. “Happy to serve, my liege.”

Despair’s expression droops. “Perhaps not in this.”

Hob takes his own time looking at the temple doors, contemplating how he feels about what he’s been asked to do. He’d sworn one of the things he wouldn’t do as Vassal to the Endless was to harm another, nor kill. But surely in this case, leading that which sorrows and suffers to a good and comfortable death is a good thing?

Even when it’s your husband’s beloved son?

Hob’s heart is trying to crawl up his throat, his eyes stinging already, knowing exactly what sort of pain Morph has coming. It’s a wretched way to spend what is supposed to be a holiday celebrating their love and devotion to one another, but then, did Hob not just vow “in sickness and in health”?

“Are you joining us?” Hob asks Despair.

“No,” she says. “But I’ll be here when you come out.”

“I would imagine so,” Morph says lowly.

He mounts the shallow, crumbling marble steps, trailing Hob behind him into the shade of the portico. The building is made of the same marble, a pale and welcoming yellow shot through with dreamy blue and white glitter befitting a poet and son of the Dream Lord. Up close, it looks very solid and fine, not at all the tumble-down ruin that it had appeared from the overgrown hiking path. The door itself is thick native wood, made in the later Victorian style, with heavy wrought iron hinges and latches in extremely good repair.

Morph hesitates at the handle, and Hob nearly leans around him to open the latch, if Morph can’t make himself do it. But then Morph lifts one shaking, moon-pale hand, and grants them entry.

The hinges are well oiled and silent. The temple, when they push their slow and respectful way inside, is cool and dark. The floor and walls are tiled with the same marble again, broken up only with a few fluttering tapestries and unlit sconces. A pair of cabinets run alongside the edge of the room, which is no larger than Hob’s living room above The New Inn. In the middle of the room sits a simple stone table, flanked on either side by chairs and vases with sprays of fresh flowers.

The far wall contains one long, wide window, currently showcasing the over-saturated beauty of the aegean sunset. It is the exact eye-height to enjoy the view if one were seated at the table.

Or if one were a disembodied head sitting on a cushion upon it.

From the back, the head doesn’t look like much. Just a wild tuft of brown hair, slightly lighter than Hob’s own, the delicate shell of two flushed ears, and a bit of raggedly torn olive-toned neck. Hob’s seen student drama stage props that looked the exact same. But then, at the soft shuffle of their shoes against the floor, the head proves it still lives by tilting curiously to one side.

“Georgios?” the head–Orpheus–calls into the twilight, and it rings through the temple like birdsong. “Have you forgotten something, my priest?”

Hob bites his tongue to hold in his gasp. The lad’s voice is sublime .

Again, Morph hesitates. And again, Hob prepares himself to speak up, if his husband finds that he can’t. But just as Hob draws breath, Morph says “Orpheus.”

What little of the neck exists stiffens. “No,” Orpheus hisses. “The last time we spoke, you told me you will not look on me again. Well, keep your promise, you selfish old hypocrite, for now I do not wish to look on you . ”

Morph’s hand spasms in Hob’s. Hob squeezes it three times— I love you .

“You needn’t, if you desire it to be so,” Morpheus assures his son. “I will stay here.”

“I want you to leave .”

“I will,” Morph reassures him. “Only, I have someone I’d like you to meet first, if he may be permitted.” He releases Hob’s hand, and urges him into Orpheus’ eye-line.

Hob can’t guess what the lad’s expression might be doing, but finally, grudgingly he says: “... yes, I permit it. You may approach.”

Hob moves slowly, stepping up around the side of the altar-–for that’s what it is, laid with good things to smell and pleasant things to see, and an ebook on a stand close enough for Orpheus to tap it with his nose to advance the pages—but doesn’t block off Orpheus’s ability to enjoy the window.

Hob folds his hands behind his back to resist the asinine urge to hold one out to shake.

“And who are you?” Orpheus asks, when Hob has come to a stop.

God’s fucking teeth, he looks almost exactly like Morph , Hob realizes, taking in the sun-gilded structure of the young man’s face. And he is a young man, no older than Robyn had been, surely. But where Morph is a study in artist’s charcoals, linen-white paper, and the power of churischiro, Orpheus is all the good warm colours of the earth. He is sparrow-feathers and ripe wheat, amber beer and good freshly-turned soil, gold and honey.

Orpheus’s face is expressive and mobile, painted now with elastic curiosity. It is more than a little creepy and off putting, jabbing hard at the part of Hob’s brain that screams warning about the uncanny valley-ness of it all. He swallows hard and fights to keep his own expression genially bland.

“Doctor Robert Gadling, Orpheus Lyre-Master and Bard-Prince,” Hob says respectfully with a formal bow. Hey, he’s hung out with enough Otherkind to know how to flatter. And then he adds what he hopes is a charming grin as he straightens. “But you can call me Hob, if you like.”

“Humph,” Orpheus says, the unimpressed-cat-look that his father often gets flitting across the lad’s face. Hob swallows hard, struck by the bittersweet similarities. “Such pretty, empty flattery. And what are you?”

“Head priest of Morpheus, God of Sleep, and Vassal to the Endless,” Hob answers honestly. It’s in that capacity, at least, that he’s here.

“More than that, I think,” Orpheus says with a sly squint, and Hob’s chest surges with grief and affection both, to see another expression so like Morph’s on this young man’s face.

“More than that,” Hob agrees, and holds up his left hand to give Orpheus a good long look at his wedding band.

“Shall I call you stepfather, then?” Orpheus asks. This young man who is older than Hob by centuries, but still, in essence, is his stepson.

“If it please you,” Hob says gently, keeping his expression and body language open.

“What would please me is to be released!” Orpheus spits.

Hob is surprised at how quickly the young man’s mood flips. Or, no, he’s surprised at his own surprise. Being nothing but a head must do a lot of terrible things to one’s… head.

Do not make a joke right now, Hob Gadling, you inappropriate arse , he cautions himself.

“Orpheus,” Morph says gently. “Please, I would look on you–”

“ No ,” Orpheus snarls, in the exact same tone that Hob himself has used with Morph, a firm and vehement denial that makes his wishes more than clear, for everyone in the conversation knows that Morph’s–Dream’s–power was enough to simply do as he wished. And sometimes he did.

Morph makes a strangled, aggrieved sound, but stays put. Well, at least he respects Orpheus’ agency. It would be too easy to just pick the head up and make him look. Easy, and violating.

“My son–”

“You are not my father!” Orpheus snarls. “I have disowned you. You are no longer of my flesh, nor my blood, nor my heart! And did you not throw that back in my face when you abandoned me here?”

Hob peers over Orpheus’s head at his husbands, whose face does something complicated before it shutters, expression turning blank in a way that Hob knows that the accusation has pierced him to the quick.

“I did,” Morph admits, voice throttled. “And I was wrong to do so.”

“Ha!” Orpheus sneers. “Oh, has Dream of the Endless grown a conscience, finally?” And then his eyes slide accusingly to Hob. “Or has he simply married one?”

Hob shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs, smiling boyishly to try to keep things light. He doesn’t refute it, because Orpheus’s accusations aren’t exactly wrong . Hob has put in a great deal of work, in his role as Morpheus’s touchpoint with humanity.

Morph, it seems, doesn’t know how to answer, and so doesn’t.

Orpheus’s anger burns hot, but, it appears it also spends quickly. “ Why are you here, if not to kill me, finally?” he asks, addressing the question to Hob.

“Morph wanted to come to Naxos,” he says, choosing not to add the part about it being their honeymoon, as he doesn’t want Orpheus to feel like an afterthought.

“Why?”

“I wished to…” Morph starts, and then stops. Hob wishes he had permission to look on Orpheus’ face too, so he was close enough to take his hand and offer grounding comfort, like he usually does when they are working through emotional confessions. “I wished simply to see you. To converse with you. To… to sit with you and speak as once did. To… to…”

“To?” Orpheus sneers, corner of his lip curling up in disgust.

“To apologize ,” Morph confesses, and the truth pulled from the deep chasm of his self-loathing.

Orpheus’s laughter is ugly. But then, what was done to him was also ugly.

“Come, let me see your face then,” Orpheus wheezes. “I would look on this man who used to be my father, if he is so changed .” It’s clear by what the lad is saying that he doesn’t believe a word of it.

But when Morph steps up to Hob’s side, and then kneels like a supplicant so he can meet his son’s gaze, Orpheus’ mouth drops open in shock.

“You are changed ,” Orpheus blurts. “I see–” his eyes roll up into his head, briefly, lids fluttering.

Hob puts a comforting hand on Morph’s shoulder, taking a step forward in concern, but Morph nudges him back, unconcerned. Orpheus’s eyes slide back to them, a white glow fading from the pupils as he blinks. “You are human now.”

“As you say, good Oracle,” Morph verifies politely. “It is so.”

Oh. It was a vision, not a seizure , Hob realizes, relieved. There’s another thing for the “oh, that actually exists” list. Oracles and prophecies. Who knew?

“There’s a new facet of Dream of the Endless,” Hob explains, when it seems like Morph and Orpheus are planning to just stare at each other. “And he’s taken over as humanity’s avatar of the Dreaming. Your fath–Morph, my husband, has elected to retire. He is now human, but immortal, as I am.”

“You’re immortal?” Orpheus asks, dragging his gaze off his father’s face, intrigued. “By what manner?”

“A careless tongue and a wager with your auntie Death,” Hob admits.

Morpheus stiffens under Hob’s hand, and Orpheus pulls a disgusted face. “Pacts with Telute are deceptive and ill-advised.”

Hob understands where the bitterness is rooted. All the same, he says, “She got you into the underworld, just like she promised.”

“Aye, she did, at that,” Orpheus agrees, and redirects a glare like daggers to where Morph is kneeling on the unforgiving stone.

“I was wrong,” Morph says, sitting back on his heels and folding his hands in his lap, dropping his eyes to the callous he’s developed over the hours wielding pencils and ink brushes. “I was prideful, and obstinate, and wrong . I regret not supporting your choice in Eurydice, and I despair that I did not dance at your wedding, and I am ashamed that you were compelled to reach out to Death and Destruction for the aid and succor you should have had from me as my beloved child.”

“You said there was nothing you could do,” Orpheus says.

“That does not mean I should not have tried ,” Morph admits. His whole body shakes under Hob’s hand, a wracking shiver, and from his vantage point, he can see a single tear roll down Morph’s cheek and drop off his jaw to wet the marble floor. “I am more ashamed still that in my own wounded pride, I neglected you in your worst pain, ignored your cries for help, and then finally exiled you here , instead of caring for you as I ought.”

Orpheus is silent for a long moment, watching Morpheus suffer, and Hob doesn't feel the need to interrupt it or explain it away this time.

Orpheus, when he finally replies, speaks with less bitterness, but no less hurt. “And so now that you are human, you have a human heart and human regrets, at last?”

Morpheus flinches, but doesn't deny it. Hob, again, resists the urge to come to his defense. Because as far as Hob's observed, it does work that way, at least a little.

When Morph was Dream he was, well, Endless . He had endless responsibilities, endless Dreamers needing his attention, endless duties as monarch both within and without the Dreaming. Sex, relationships, and his human family had come second to that, and when it had crumbled, it just proved to Dream that humanity was worth holding himself apart from. Morpheus had shoved everything that it meant to be the facet acting as the avatar for humanity into a tiny little box deep, deep down inside of himself, and grown distant and cruel as a result.

But now the box was open and exposed, and Morph was subject to the intense and overwhelming emotions that had escaped from it.

Luckily, like Pandora's amphora, Hob is there to remind him that Hope remains. He squeezes Morph's shoulder three times. Morph shudders out a heaving, guttural sigh, weighted with grief and regret, and catharsis. He turns pleading eyes to his son, glacier-blue and rimmed in red.

“And so you have come, at last,” Orpheus says softly. “To finally give the aid I have begged of you for so long?”

"I request… reconciliation," Morph says, and Hob realizes he's missing some context when he realizes that Morph's proposing it as if it's a counter offer. "I would like a chance to rekindle our relationship."

"I do not," Orpheus says. "My forgiveness, I give you. It changes so little in my life, and how I am forced to live it at present that you may have it." He tosses the words at Morph like his long-desired absolution is a filthy, flimsy rag. "But I do not desire a relationship. You know what I want."

“If that is still what you wish. If it is what you ask of me, my darling boy,” Morpheus chokes, fisting his hands above his heart, and face going smooth with the unnatural calm of approaching shock. “It will be done.”

He stands, smooth and flowing as water, for all that he's human know and his legs should be a halfway to asleep. Hob offers his hand but Morph doesn't take it. Instead he steps forward, directly in front of Orpheus and with gentle hands, he cups his son's gaunt cheeks and bestows a lingering, grave kiss on his brow.

A goodbye kiss.

"I'm missing something," Hob says then. "What're you going to—"

“Georgios has prepared a phial of hemlock for me," Orpheus interrupts him, and Hob snaps his mouth shut on his sudden understanding and surprise. "But he is too loyal to ever give it to me when I beg for it in my lowest depressions.”

And again, Hob is surprised at his own surprise. Certainly there are others who have suffered more who have chosen medically assisted death. Why would Orpheus be any different?

"Are you sure?" Hob rasps out. "Please, I'm not trying to… I don't know what I'm trying to say. But… there's so much to live for."

“Not for me. Not as I am,” Orpheus says, with a grave finality that rings through the temple, like the sound of a shovel digging into cemetery soil. “I have made up my mind. Death.” And, for the first time, he turns his eyes up to his father. “ Please .”

Morph nods, releases Orpheus, steps back, and goes to the low cabinets against the right wall. How he knows that this is where the priest would keep the poison, Hob couldn't guess. But he immediately retrieves the glass phial, stoppered with cork and wax, immediately. It looks like green tea brewed, Hob assumes, from the deadly leaves plucked in the time just before the plant begins to blossom.

Hob wants to ask how poison is meant to kill someone without a stomach. But he reminds himself that he's referring to a disembodied, still-living head. There's a magic old and deep here that he knows nothing about. Maybe it's less the act of being poisoned, as the belief that he is dying that will summon Hob's sister-in-law.

Hob should butt out.

He knows that.

It's not his place to interfere when this is what Orpheus has chosen, after two thousand years of suffering.

And yet.

"Please," Hob says, his voice a crackle. "Please, don't choose this. Not yet. Not when there's… when there's so many amazing things out there. Not when you and Morph can finally—not when I've just learned you exist. Please."

Morph and Orpheus both turn identical looks of incredulous disdain at him.

"Please," Hob repeats, the burning in his throat almost too heavy to speak around. "There's so much out there." He gestures out the window. "The world is so different. Just come spend time in it, that's all I beg. Give the world a chance before you leave it. Let us take you away from here, show you London, find… find some way —You've been trapped here, as much a prisoner as Morph was for the last century—"

"You were a captive?" Orpheus interrupts sharply.

Morph holds the bottle of poison, the round bottom cupped in his palms, and stills. He nods, just once.

"Then you know how desperately I wish to escape my torment," Orpheus says plainly.

"As you wish," Morph says, and Hob hiccups a sob, clapping his hands over his mouth because he and Morph had just watched The Princess Bride on the flight to Greece, and he can't, he can't —

And then the breeze picks up.

PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART

#the hob adherent series #hob x dream #hob adherent #hob gadling #hob x morpheus #lord morpheus #the kindly ones #orpheus #retired dream #dream of the endless #sandman fanfiction #dreamling #dreamling fic #dreamling fanfiction #centennial boyfriends #centennial husbands

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harunayuuka2060 · 2 years ago

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Jade: What's your greatest fear?

MC: ...When the loudest person I know, becomes quiet.

Jade: And who may that be?

MC: Sebek Zigvolt.

Jade: *smiles* Is he important to you?

MC: Yes. He is.

Jade: Last question and we're ending this.

Jade: What made him upset about you?

MC: I don't know... He starts avoiding me all of a sudden.

Jade: Thank you for answering my questions.

MC: ...

MC: Huh, Jade?

Jade: *chuckles* Are you alright?

MC: ...

MC: Oh. Right. I wandered off, didn't I?

Jade: Don't worry. It's fine. Shall we go back?

Malleus: Now, Sebek. How long are you planning to upset MC?

Sebek: Malleus...

Malleus: Answer me.

Sebek: I think this is for the best.

Malleus: *sigh* Sebek. Can't you be honest?

Sebek: ...

Sebek: I don't want to fall in love with a human.

Malleus: ...

Lilia: *laughs* Oh, Sebek! You're saying it like you're being forced to!

Lilia: Now stop with this nonsense and apologize to MC.

Malleus: That's right. The child of man has been bothering themselves what they could've done wrong to receive a cold treatment from you.

Sebek: I'm sorry, My liege...

Malleus: Not to me.

MC: ...

Sebek: *is bowing in front of them*

MC: *frowns* What now?

Sebek: THIS IS ALL MY FAULT! I HOPE YOU FORGIVE ME!

MC: ...

MC: *laughs* So, does that mean you're not mad at me?

Sebek: *his heart beating*

MC: Please don't do that again. You gave me quite a fright.

Sebek: *straightens his posture* *looking at them* OF COURSE! I WILL NEVER!

#twisted wonderland #twst mc #twst sebek #twst jade #twst malleus #twst lilia

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womanofwords · 2 years ago

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Punishment

I haven’t done anything related to the awesome work of @creepychippy in a while, so here we go again. The magnificent magnum opus in question is here.

“Do you know why you’re here, Henchman?” Villain boomed, glaring at Henchman from their elevated throne. Henchman stood silently for a few seconds before finally offering an answer.

“Is it because of the latest mission, my liege?”

“Of course it’s because of the latest mission! You were the weakest link that messed it up for everyone by tripping the security alarms! Those wondrous jewels would have been a magnificent achievement for the organization if not for your clumsiness! We’re lucky we escaped at all!”

“I’m so sorry, my liege!” Henchman whimpered.

“And that’s not even mentioning the other times you’ve ruined my plans. Giving our location away to the heroes, gave the password to my bomb to the heroes just in time for it to be disarmed and taken away!” Villain squinted at Henchman, not bothering to get up to properly look at Henchman’s face. “I’m beginning to suspect that you’re actually a spy for the heroes that’s feigning incompetence in order to evade suspicion!”

Henchman’s eyes widened. “No! Sire, I’m not a spy, I swear! I don’t work for those heroes in any way! I hate them just as much as you do!”

“So you’re incompetent?” Villain’s voice rang out through the empty hall they were in, echoing off the walls to punch Henchman in the gut.

“What?”

“You insist that you’re not a spy, so the other answer is that you’re incompetent. Are you incompetent?”

Henchman teared up as they forced themselves to answer. “Yes, my liege. I am incompetent. I offer my greatest apologies.” Villain’s head tilted as they finally left their throne to come closer to Henchman and their tears, which were threatening to escape and roll down their little face.

“Hush now, save your tears for when you’ll need them,” Villain cooed, smiling. The hair of the back of Henchman’s neck stood straight up.

“What do you mean by that, my liege? What are you talking about?” Henchman asked. The smile on Villain’s face looked sinister, almost predatory.

“Incompetence must be punished, Henchman,” Villain cooed, raising their hand. Henchman flinched, but all that happened was the snapping of fingers. Multiple different hands materializing, each with a little pop. Then the hands approached Henchman about as menacingly as a disembodied sentient hand could be. One hand yanked Henchman’s arm upward as the rest dived towards Henchman’s ribs and exposed armpit. A particularly devious one squeezed at Henchman’s knee, forcing giggles out of his mouth that threatened to evolve into laughter.

“BOHOHOSS! PL-AHAHA-PLEHEHEHEAHAHASEHE!” Henchman laughed. Villain looked at them with a mixture of glee and pity, like Henchman was a hapless pet that kept getting themselves stuck in unfortunate places.

“I’m sorry, but you need to be punished for your incompetence, Henchman. About an hour of this should be enough for your first session. You will need to have many more sessions if you’re ever going to be slightly useful.”

“MY LIEHEHEHEHEGE! SOHOHOHOHOHOMEONE MIHIHIHIHIHIGHT HEHEHEHE-HEAR MEHEHEHEHE!”

“No, they won’t. Not a sound will leave here. I had this room soundproofed ages ago. Nobody’s coming to get you.” Villain smiled sweetly at Henchman’s hysterically laughing face. It was an adorable mess, with that laughing mouth and that button nose and those big, brown eyes that were sprouting tears at the corner of them. “There you go, an excuse to finally use those adorable little tears. I would stay longer, but I like having full hearing in both of my ears. Until then, have fun!”

And Villain left Henchman to struggle with those evil hands in that room.

Which was exactly how their punishment was supposed to go.

#creative writing #my writing #writing inspiration #writers on tumblr #writers #heroes and villains #tickles #ler! villain #lee! henchman

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pilothusband · 4 years ago

Text

All Hail The King

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Warnings: Alcohol, oral sex, p in v sex, praise kink. I’m a horny bitch, okay? This is purely indulgent.

Word count: 5k

Author’s note: Special thanks to @wyn-dixie for reading this over before I posted it and for enabling this filth. ❤️ This idea entered my brain randomly and I had to write it out. Please let me know what you think! I want your feedback. If I had Photoshop I would have made an edit of Frankie with a crown for this but I don’t have it so here’s this gif instead.

The bar is humming with activity, but the table you’re nestled at in the back provides enough shelter to allow you all to converse without having to yell at each other.

You’ve been nursing a glass of water for a while now, since you’re the designated driver this week. It doesn’t bother you, though— you’re just happy to be out with your friends.

Every once in a while you steal a glance over at Frankie, who’s sitting diagonally across the table, next to Santiago who is directly across from you. Benny is to your left, his large body crowding you into the wall, and his brother Will is at the head of the table.

“Hey Fish,” Benny claps a hand on his shoulder. The force of his hand jostles Frankie’s solid body backwards a little, but to his credit he doesn’t flinch. “How are things with that girl you were seeing? Jennessa? Jennifer?”

You take a sip of your water and look down at the table to mask your interest at the sudden change in conversation.

“Jessica,” Frankie clears his throat. “They aren’t. We didn’t have much in common so she broke it off after a few dates.”

Queue the internal cheering. Jessica was a bit of a wet mop, to be honest. She never had anything to say when Frankie brought her around and she would scoff at everything that was slightly unsavory in her eyes. Deep down, you had to come to terms with the jealous twinge you felt in your gut every time she would squeeze Frankie’s shoulder affectionately, her immaculately manicured nails pressed harshly into his jacket.

“I’m sorry, Fish,” Benny said, slinging his arm around the man, the clumsy movement knocking his hat slightly askew. “Her loss, brother.”

“Here here,” Santi agrees, raising his bottle in the air. “To the king!”

Benny cheers clinks his bottle against Santiago’s echoing his sentiment. Will huffs out a laugh and Frankie groans, hiding his face in his hands.

You gape at the two men in question, but they just giggle like a couple of school girls.

“I didn’t realize I was in the presence of royalty,” you say, trying to figure out what they’re talking about. You look over at Frankie as he takes an impatient sip from his drink.

Benny just about spits out a mouthful of beer onto the table.

“Shut the fuck up, guys.” Frankie warns his friends. “Seriously.” Santi and Benny give him an innocent look. Will focuses his gaze on the bottle he’s holding, picking at the paper label, damp and curling at the edges from condensation .

Santiago leans towards you, his breath hot in your ear.

“We call him the pussy eating king.”

You thank the powers above you weren’t mid-sip, because the choked sound that emits from your throat was both involuntary and sudden. Heat blossoms in your stomach and your thighs clench together as you make eye contact with Frankie. He looks away nervously, embarrassed even.

“So was this a self coronation or..” You trail off, grinning at the flush on Frankie’s cheeks.

“It was that really talkative chick he was seeing for a while,” Benny says, turning to you. “Brianna?”

“Brenda,” Frankie sighs.

“So Brenda crowned you the pussy eating king?” You ask Frankie, who still refuses to meet your eyes.

He grumbles in response, waving off the subject.

“Yeah, she went on about it in detail for the whole night one time. I think you were away for a work trip or something” Santiago is absolutely smirking, loving the way Frankie is physically shrinking under the group’s attention. “Come on Fish, don’t be so modest. You’re a beast in the sack, it’s a good thing!”

You smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. You remember why you weren’t there. It was because you couldn’t stand seeing Frankie so happy with another woman, so you feigned sick.

“Well, I can see why things with Brenda didn’t last,” you respond, knowing Frankie was kind of a private guy. “But hey, at least she can tell all her friends she got the royal treatment while it lasted.”

Benny, Santiago and even Will all roar with laughter, fists banging raucously on the table. Frankie huffs out an embarrassed laugh, despite himself.

“Yeah, yeah,” he takes a swig of his beer, emptying it. “I need another drink.”

“Hey Ben, what time is your fight next week again?” Will calls over to his brother. You’re grateful for the change of subject. Frankie’s had enough torture for one night and you aren’t sure how many more details about Frankie’s sexual prowess your nether regions can take.

Benny turns towards Will to talk about his upcoming match and you take a sip from your glass to try to hide how flustered you’re feeling. Did this bar get hot all of a sudden?

The glass lands back down with a dull thump and you look up to find Santiago studying you, his eyebrow raised.

“What?” You don’t mean to sound aggressive, but his gaze is unnerving, as if he’s trying to suss out something you’re hiding.

“Nothing, nothing at all.” He smirks and tips up his beer, taking a long gulp. You roll your eyes at him and look down to pick at your nails.

A few moments later, Frankie returns with a fresh beer and you can feel Santiago turning his face in your direction again to read your body language. You school your reaction, fingers digging painfully into your pint glass. Sometimes Pope is too fucking nosy for his own good.

He must lose interest after a moment though, because he turns his attention back to Benny, who’s still talking about his upcoming fight.

The topic doesn’t come up again, thankfully, and you’ve dropped all the boys off at their separate destinations, save for Frankie, who lives the closest to you.

The car ride alone with him isn’t as tense as you were expecting, since his tongue has been loosened with the fair amount of alcohol he’s had tonight. You both chat easily about the upcoming week and how much you’re dreading going back to work on Monday.

You can’t resist one smart remark though, as you pull up to Frankie’s house.

“Your castle awaits, my liege,” you quip, trying and failing to hide your amused smile as you look over at him.

Frankie throws his head back and laughs freely, opening the car door with a wink.

“Goodnight, my queen,” he bows exaggeratedly before shutting the car door.

The butterflies don’t tamp down until you’re securely inside your own apartment, locking the door behind you.

That night was a month ago, which means it’s been a whole fucking month since your brain flew the coop. Every time Frankie does just about anything with his mouth, everything else around you ceases to exist.

Take last Thursday, for example. Frankie dropped by after work to help you change your porch light, since the fixture is too heavy and the light is too high up to easily reach.

He steps up the ladder with ease, unscrewing the fixture and holding it with his left hand. He puts the screwdriver in his mouth so he can hold onto the ladder as he gingerly hands you the fixture. You grab onto it and hand him the replacement bulb so he can swap them out.

He gets the lightbulb in and gestures towards you to hand the fixture back, which he screws back in before stepping down.

“Blegh,” he wipes his mouth on his sleeve, an action that has your last two brain cells screeching to a halt. “Screwdrivers taste awful.”

His statement is cute, self-deprecating, and you try to respond appropriately but all you can do is gape at him like a fish out of water.

‘Get your shit together, he’s wiping off the taste of rust, not your pussy,’ you try to mentally shake yourself out of your stupor, but it does no good.

He turns back towards his toolbox to drop the screwdriver in and close the lid.

“All set,” he says, dusting off his jeans. He sounds a little uneasy, probably because you’re acting like a complete weirdo.

“Thank you so much, Frankie. I really appreciate it.” You find your manners and pull him in for a hug, secretly reveling in how good he smells.

“Any time,” he tells you as he wraps his arms around you and squeezes softly.

Before he pulls away you make a spur of the moment decision, and reach up to give him a small kiss on the cheek. He’s so impossibly warm and so inviting, you can feel your heart flutter in your chest. The sparse hairs on his face tickle your chin.

Frankie clears his throat and ducks his head down, mumbling a hurried goodbye before he heads back to his truck, toolbox in hand. You don’t miss the way his lips are turned up and the crows feet make an appearance in the corner of his eyes, nor do you miss the brilliant flush that spreads over his face and down his neck.

It’s Saturday now and your torment knows no end. You decide you’re too tired to go out and opt to invite the guys over for a movie night, to which they all agree.

You decide you’ll just have to look away every time Frankie takes a sip of a drink, or eats a handful of popcorn. Or God forbid, if he licks his lips.

The group chat has been a nightmare, with everyone trying to come up with a movie to watch. Benny wants to watch The Expendables, Will mentioned something about wanting to see Dunkirk for ages now and Santi is playing devil’s advocate, disagreeing with all of their choices but not coming up with one of his own.

Frankie has been quiet in the chat, besides initially agreeing to come over initially.

It’s 9:00 PM, you have a 30 rack of beers in the fridge and some popcorn set out for everyone. All you have to do now is wait for the guys to arrive. Your phone chimes with a notification from Benny.

Benny and the Jets 🥊: Sorry lady, I got called in for a last minute practice. Raincheck?

Ironhead 🦸🏼: I gotta duck out too. The lady wants to have a date night. Sorry!

You type out a reply to them, a little disappointed but bidding them a good night all the same.

A knock sounds on the door and you rush over to answer it. The door swings open to reveal Frankie, wearing the softest looking navy blue hoodie you’ve ever seen, along with his Standard Oil cap. He looks as unsure as ever, holding a bottle of red wine.

You chirp an over-enthusiastic greeting, internally cringe at it, and step aside to welcome him in.

“I know you like red wine, so I got some for you on the way here. I hope it’s the kind you like.”

You accept the wine and look at the label. It’s a California Zinfandel. You can’t believe he remembered your favorite wine.

“I love it, thank you so much.” You pull him into a hug, nuzzling into the soft material of his sweatshirt. He returns the hug just as enthusiastically, pulling away to kiss your forehead.

“Is Santiago on his way?” You ask, padding into the kitchen to grab a glass from your cabinet. “Do you want a glass? Or I have some beer if you’d prefer.”

“Beer is perfect, thanks,” he says a little breathily as he looks over at you. “Santiago said something came up and that he’s sorry.”

Something feels a little fishy with the three of them ducking out all at the same time, but you don’t mention it as you hand him a beer and search through your drawer for a bottle opener. A few minutes later, you’re both set up on the couch and are scrolling through Netflix for a movie.

“I have no idea what to watch. Do you?”

“Want to watch Civil War? I know the guys will bitch we’re continuing the rewatch without them but they can deal.”

You tip your head back and laugh, navigating over to your Disney+ app.

Frankie takes off his hat and sets it aside while you spread a blanket over your laps, braving a chance to scoot closer to him. He takes the hint and wraps his arm behind your shoulders, nestling you closer to his chest. You settle in and try to pay attention to the movie, despite the wild fluttering that is taking place in your stomach.

Frankie shifts uncomfortably and winces a little. You can tell he’s trying to hide it, but little does he know you’ve been watching every single movement he makes like a hawk. Or a nervous lap dog.

“Does your back hurt? I can move,” you start to get up but Frankie grabs onto your wrist and pulls you back in.

“No, stay. I just need to find a comfortable position.”

You make a soft noise of surprise when he lifts you up and pulls you towards him, settling back so he’s spread out on the couch. You’re settled on top of him, your legs stretched out over his with your back to the cushion, half draped over his torso.

This position has your heart thumping hard in your chest. His face was just a few inches from yours. All he’d have to do is tilt his face towards yours, and you’d be practically kissing.

Focusing on the movie is harder than ever. Your left hand rests on Frankie’s chest and your right is near his head. Without even thinking, you reach out and start stroking your fingers through his soft curls. He hums contentedly, the pleasant sound rumbling through his chest.

A hand makes its way up your arm leaving goosebumps in its wake, landing on your shoulder.

You brave a glance at Frankie and feel your heart stutter in your chest when you realize he’s been looking at you. His eyes are as dark as ever, twinkling against the flicker of your TV.

He closes the gap and captures your lips in a tender kiss. His lips are warm and soft, melding to yours perfectly. The brush of your mouths together is intoxicating. Your tongue darts out to lick at him and he complies, letting out a guttural moan at the sensation as your tongues meet languidly.

You shift your leg so it slots between his and both of your hands find his shoulders and squeeze them, eliciting a soft mewl from Frankie’s mouth. His hands are hot on your back and he slides one down to your ass, kneading the soft flesh over your leggings.

Your hips press into his, rutting into him, soft pants falling from your mouth– mingling with his. You need to be closer, closer, closer. He tightens his grip on your ass in response and rolls his hips so you can feel how hard he is against your belly.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, breaking the kiss, words tumbling out between his ragged breaths.

You can feel yourself throbbing for him, wetness rushing to your core as his hushed baritone makes your head spin with need. Somewhere in the back of your mind you’re convinced this is a dream. That there’s no way you’re dry humping the man of your dreams on your couch right now.

You duck down to hide your expression, not wanting to ruin the moment with your anxiety and doubt. You’ll take whatever this man gives you, even if it’s just this moment.

You busy yourself by peppering small kisses on his neck, trailing them up to his jaw.

“Hey,” he slows your movements and holds your chin with his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face up gently up to look at him.

“I want you. I want this. Do you?”

You feel the urge to look away, his gaze is intense and laser-focused on you. Eye contact has never been your strong suit, so this was a lot for you to handle. But you fight the urge to flinch and stare back, searching to see if there was anything that will give away any trepidations. His expression remains hard set, serious but not unkind. It’s just like Frankie to have eyes as clear as day, giving away all of his secrets. They’re just like him— strong, unrelenting in their hardness and softness.

“Yes,” you reply. Your voice cracks a little, thick with emotion. “I’ve wanted this, wanted you, for so long.”

You feel embarrassment wash over you with the admission, but Frankie doesn’t let it last long before you crushes his lips to yours in a searing kiss. He breaks it off after a moment, lips swollen and pink.

“Baby, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.”

He strokes a hand down your jaw, his thumb caressing your skin as a goofy smile blooms over your face.

“I want to make you feel good, baby,” he whispers, his thumb catching on the swell of your bottom lip. “Will you let me make you feel good?”

You blink and swallow heavily, a fresh wave of arousal flooding to your center as the deep rasp of his voice utters those words, smooth as caramel– dousing over you like kerosene on a fire.

You nod, not trusting your voice at this very moment.

“I need you to say it out loud, honey,” he says, his lips brushing against yours ever so lightly.

“Yes, Francisco,” you breathe out. “Make me feel good.”

He bites your bottom lip and tugs, then growls playfully before he grabs your shoulders and flips you over. You let out a delighted shriek, giggling as he lifts up the hem of your shirt and kisses every inch of skin that’s revealed.

“Wait,” you call out. He stops his movements immediately. “You first.”

Frankie grins. You want to press your fingers into the dimple that appears and feel the scratch of his beard under your nails. He leans back and lifts his sweatshirt over his head, the grey t-shirt he’s wearing sticks to the inside of it and he rolls both garments down his arms.

His chest is bare to you now, smooth except for a smattering of hairs in the middle of his chest, and a patch leading down into his jeans. You want to reach out and run your hands down the planes of his torso and follow the path of hair, but your arms aren’t long enough to reach.

You remove your shirt, leaving you in your leggings and bra. It’s a soft lace number, a delicate pink with no underwire. You watch as his hungry gaze roams over your chest. To your surprise, he doesn’t motion for you to take it off. Instead, he leans over you, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

He moves downwards, tongue darting out to taste the salt of your neck. He continues his path and mouths between your breasts, one of his hands reaches out to squeeze the plump flesh in his large hand. You nipple instantly pebbles under his ministrations and he pulls the fabric aside to tease it with the pad of his finger. You moan softly at the sensation and yelp in surprise when he sucks it into his mouth and bites it, soothing the sharp sting with a flick of his tongue.

“Mmm, love how responsive you are already,” he hums, moving down. Your back arches as his mouth makes a hot trail down the rest of your torso. You look down and notice he’s left wet patches where his mouth has been, coating you in saliva and leaving goosebumps in his wake.

He reaches the waistband of your leggings and pushes them down, letting out a strangled groan when he gets an eyeful of your panties, the same shade of pink that matches the bra you’re wearing.

“So fucking sexy,” he breathes.

He peels your panties down your legs and pulls them off along with your leggings, leaving you completely bare from the bottom down. You start to cross your legs to hide yourself, feeling self-conscious at how exposed you are, but Frankie grabs your thigh to halt the movement.

“You better not hide this pretty pussy from me,” he says, licking his lips.

You half expect him to dive in, but he takes a moment to look at you. He’s resting a hand on your hip. His pointer finger makes a path down, tracing an invisible line up and down your slit. You hiss at the ghost of his touch and thrust your hips towards his hand, seeking out more friction.

Frankie lets out an amused chuckle at your reaction and leans forward to plant a wet kiss to your inner thigh. You let out a shaky breath in anticipation– your heart feels like it’s beating out of your chest. He kisses up your thigh until he reaches the apex between your legs, then licks a stripe through your folds with the flat of his tongue, pulling a surprised gasp from your parted lips.

He sucks your clit into his mouth and you can’t help it– you buck up into his mouth and grab onto his hair and tug at the strands. He grabs onto the flesh of your hip and whimpers into your pussy. Despite being almost dizzy with need, you feel a rush of power knowing you have this effect on him.

“You taste so fucking good. So wet for me,” he punctuates his words with bold licks up and down. “Never want to stop.”

He changes patterns, making tight circles on your clit with his tongue. The sudden switch has you mewling and your legs clamp around his head involuntarily. Frankie grabs your thighs and wrenches them apart, hooking them over his shoulders as he latches onto your pussy. His hands are on your ass, holding you up as your back arches off the couch.

All you can do is scramble at the cushions below you for purchase as Frankie buries his face into your cunt, lapping at you with abandon. His tongue licks into you with an intensity you’ve never experienced before; it has you seeing stars.

You have no idea how he knows exactly how to manipulate your body to pull the pleasure from you so naturally. Every lick feels like it’s searching for treasure, every suck hits somewhere deep inside, reverberating through the muscles of your thighs and up in your abdomen.

He gently places you back down to the cushions and rubs at your entrance with his pointer finger, looking up at you for permission.

“Yes, please–“ you whimper brokenly. He complies immediately and plunges it into you, following with a second finger, and curls them up. His pace is slow at first and he flicks his tongue out to play with your clit at the same time. He’s soon spurred on by your moans and sets a brutal pace. You once again feel the urge to clamp around him to increase the pressure, but Frankie uses his broad shoulders to hold your thighs apart.

Seeing his shoulders, bare and perspiring from his intensive movements, so wide and flushed, coupled with the furrow of his brow, his eyes pinched closed, makes something primal within you awaken. You barely have time to feel your orgasm coming before it’s hitting you– thighs shaking, back arching, hands in his hair. You don’t even realize it, but you;’re shrieking his name, chanting it like a prayer. He’s groaning in reply, milking you through it with his fingers and tongue, lapping up your release, syrupy sweet and indulgent.

He doesn’t stop until you’re flinching from overstimulation. He kisses up your body lazily, taking his time before capturing your lips. You kiss him back, licking into his mouth and tasting yourself on his tongue. He grinds into you, his jean-clad erection rubs against your aching cunt and rekindles the fire, molten heat shooting through your entire body.

“Wanna fuck you so bad, baby,” he says, panting the words into your mouth.

You moan and break the kiss.

“Want to take this to my room?”

He doesn’t reply, but instead swings his body off the couch and picks you up bridal-style. He stumbles a little with the first steps and you both laugh, kissing each other with each step he takes towards your bedroom.

He tosses you onto the bed softly and you let loose another delighted giggle when Frankie flops over you dramatically, caging you in his arms. Your tongues tangle together in an impossibly sensual kiss. He’s momentarily distracted, caught up in the feel of your body underneath his with the soft touches of your tongue, and you take the opportunity to roll him over and straddle his hips.

Frankie is looking up at you as if he’s in awe, like he can’t believe you’re here right now, naked from the waist down and grinding down on his hard cock, tenting his jeans.

You move down his body and zip his fly down, pushing down the denim along with his boxer briefs. His cock springs free, hard and hot and leaking at the tip. You can’t help but lick the bead of precum, and a broken whine rips from Frankie’s throat. His hands are clenched into the sheets, knuckles white with how hard he’s gripping the mattress beneath him.

You’re bobbing your mouth up and down his length, tongue licking around his shaft and cheeks hollowing out. His moans are loud, constant. He’s babbling praise, telling you how fucking amazing your mouth feels, how badly he wants to fuck you. It’s a heady feeling, bringing a strong and quiet man to his knees like this. You love that he’s letting you know how much he’s breaking for you.

Your tongue finds its way down to his balls and you suck them into your mouth, moaning at the musky taste. His moans are high pitched now and his hand is squeezing your shoulder.

“Baby, you gotta stop,” he grabs onto your hair to pause your movements. “I need to feel you.”

You give him one last broad lick up his shaft and shift back up, and look down at Frankie to catalogue the number you’ve done on him. He’s absolutely wrecked– brown eyes blown wide, chest rising and falling rapidly with his uneven breaths.

You remove your bra, stretching it over your head and throwing it to the side. Frankie follows the movement and lets out a needy, staccato moan at the sight of you, completely bare before him.

You reach down and kiss him soundly on the mouth, lining his cock up with your entrance.

“I’ve got you, baby boy,” you coo, sinking down on his length.

“Fuck,” he grits out between his teeth.

You give yourself a moment to get used to his size and rock into him. His hands fly up to your chest, squeezing lightly and rolling your nipples in between his fingers.

“So fucking big,” you pant out. “So good for me.”

It seems Frankie loves praise as much as you do, evidenced by the twitch of his cock inside you.

Your pace is agonizingly slow. You’re trying to tease out the moment, stretch it out so it lasts forever. It doesn’t last long– you can’t stand it anymore. You bounce up and down on him, snapping your hips when they meet his.

“So fucking perfect,” he pants out. “Wanna fuck you from behind.”

You breathe out a moan and stop your movements. Frankie mistakes your pause for hesitation and reaches up to brush the hair out of your face.

“We don’t have to,” he says, voice gentle, brow furrowed in concern.

“No, fuck. No, Frankie. I want to.”

You gingerly get up and whimper at the loss when he’s no longer inside you. Frankie sits up, shoulders rocking forward and cock bobbing with his movement as he settles onto his knees. You watch him and bite your lip, getting on all fours and lifting your ass up in the air to present yourself to him.

Frankie can’t help the groan that falls from his lips and sinks forward to lay an open-mouthed kiss on your pussy from behind before he lines himself up. He enters you without hesitation, hips slapping against your ass rhythmically, setting a decisively fast pace.

All you can hear is the filthy sounds of your wet pussy as he pounds into you, along with your strangled moans, and his heavy breathing, laced with whispers of praise you can’t discern. The waves of pleasure are too much, too strong. You can feel the familiar build up of an orgasm. Your head is in the clouds as it climbs and climbs– then crashes.

His fingers on your clit is what does you in. Your whole body shakes and all you can do is whimper and moan around his cock while he fucks into you. The strong, practiced rock of his hips become sloppy as he chases his release, muttering words of adoration into the air as he pulls out and cums, spilling onto your back. He pulls every last drop out of his cock before collapsing over you, forehead resting on your spine as he catches his breath.

“Fuck, baby,” he says, once he’s caught his breath. “Should have done this ages ago.”

You both laugh and Frankie gets up to grab a wet face towel from the bathroom

A little while later, you’re both in bed, blissed out and wrapped up around each other. The movie, drinks and snacks are all forgotten. All that matters is here and now– your breaths mingling together as you kiss each other lazily, tongues probing slowly.

In the other room, both of your phones ping on the coffee table with unheard notifications.

The first text is from Santiago.The other boys follow suit, not a minute apart.

Pope 🤦🏻‍♂️: 👑

Benny and the Jets 🥊: 👑

Ironhead 🦸🏼: 👑

Neither of you see the texts until the next morning.

The following weekend, it’s Santiago’s turn to be the designated driver. He’s parked outside of Frankie’s house, waiting to pick both of your asses up. He starts to tap his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel after the first 15 minutes.

“What the fuck are they doing in there?” He asks Will and Benny. They all know the answer, but don’t say anything.

Meanwhile, Frankie has you crowded against the front door, your sundress is hiked up and his face is buried in your pussy. Neither of you can hear the sound of Santi’s impatient honking over your moans.

And if you end up going to the bar sans panties because you can’t find them before Santiago is pounding his fist on the door, well that’s just a secret you and Frankie will have to keep.

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