#no one can recover. the man too stunning.

[veroinfaciem]

Time travel swapped AU - more doodles! (And a random black red suit Doffy 'cause why not xd There's never enough of suit mingo.)

Law gained more kids in this one! Vergo joined the Heart fam :D (this one's for @tuquidflamingo - you mentioned saving the man, the man is saved here 😔✊❤ Brothers have more people to chat to now!)

If we're going with the ' canon Doffy lost his left eye/has left eye damaged' theory, and that's why he wears his glasses constantly, does that mean that here he would take them off more often? show his beautiful eyes and eyelashes? 🤔

[solbaby7]

High For This

pairing: eris x reader

warnings: jealous!eris, swearing, another overindulgent ball hosted simply for conspiratorial purposes, sexual themes, wrote this with the implication of Beron being dead, abrupt ending bc if i didn’t stop there i prolly wouldn’t stop at all, not edited

summary: Eris is a jealous man and you’re determined to see exactly how hot his fire burns for you.

—

“Excuse me?”

Your eyes roll on their own accord, hands fluffing through fresh curls as dark mascara dries on thick lashes. A tinted gloss stains full lips and Eris hates the way his lungs greedily gulp in the sensual oud permeating the air.

Everything in here smells like you and he doesn’t resist the indulgence of looking around to take in the fluffy duvet sheets neatly strewn over the mattress and the cream throw pillows tucked near your headboard. The canopy drapes are tucked to each post, the middle dripping dreamily like clouds hovering in the sky.

You’re meticulous, he notes; every item you own continent in their convenient little homes. “I said,” The tone you hold makes his jaw clench, his body visibly perturbed by your nonchalance while he felt himself slipping deeper into your pull. You barely spare him a proper glance—too occupied in looking over yourself in the floor length mirror. “I have a date so you don’t have to wait for me. We’ll meet you there.”

“A date?” Eris repeats sharply, staring at you through the mirror.

“Is there a problem with that?” You know the answer before the question is even fully spoken, a smug little smirk ghosting in the corner of your lips as you sift through your jewelry box. Rings are slid onto your fingers, gold bands and pretty emerald cut jewels glittering in the faelight. “I specifically remember you saying that you didn’t need a plus one.”

“Because,” Each syllable is drawn out, his restraint slipping as you pushed his buttons with such expertise. “—I already had one.” You read between the lines, a brow raising as you settle in the knowledge that the High Lord had expected you to hang off his arm.

“I don’t recall you asking.”

“It was implied.”

Dark kohl lines your eyes and accentuates full lashes, a pretty blush placed on the high points of your cheeks and such beauty seems lethal when you stare through the mirror. “You’ve never had an issue articulating your wants before—if you desired it bad enough, of course.”

You leave room for a response, trying desperately to mask the flicker of hope beginning to drudge to life within the embers. Centuries of waiting for Beron to no longer be an issue, no longer looming over both of your shoulders and destroying every meaningful moment.

Things were supposed to be different when he was finally dead.

Easier.

Only, Eris had grown more guarded. Terrified that showing a hint of affection would backfire as it had so many times before. He takes his time, smoothening out his tone and compulsively straightening out the neatly folded handkerchief sticking elegantly from the breast pocket of his perfectly tailored suit. “This is not up for debate, bunny. Turn your little friend away and let’s go before we’re late.”

“No.” You shove past him, clutch tucked under your arm and high heels clicking furiously against the hardwood.

It stuns him for a beat of time but he recovers far quicker and Eris all but barks out your name as he exits your door, following a few paces behind with a snarl working its way up his throat. “Get back here!”

“I am not some object that you can just command when you please.” Elegant curls bounce angrily with your every step, jewelry chiming with each little bounce down the stairs. One hand grips at the banister for balance, the tight fit of your dress forcing you to move slower than you’d like. “You do not own me.”

"You're right, bunny. I don't own you but I am your High Lord and you will stop walking this instant."

The immediate fae-like stillness of your form has Eris’ heart thumping with excitement against his ribcage. A perfect mask is painted across your features when you slowly turn on the balls of your feet to face him but nothing could ever quench the fire that burns behind your retinas. “My Lord?”

A noise is hummed low in his throat—pleased or patronizing?—you weren’t sure but judging by that leisurely stride and the special time he takes in looking you over, it has to be a mix of both. “I like that tone much better.” Eris’ hands are warm when he brushes a lock of hair away from your face, fingertips grazing against your neck with such care that you have to suppress the shiver threatening to rake up your spine.

You refused to allow him the satisfaction of knowing how his touch affected you.

Not when he was acting like such an entitled toddler.

“Wonderful,” Venom burns under every word, even if it is wrapped in a sickeningly sweet tone. “I aim to please.”

A smile bleeds its way onto his face, the faelight casting shadows over the handsome contours of his features and frustration forces your fingers to fidget when the intoxicating oud of his cologne engulfs your senses. “I’m thrilled to hear that, bunny.” Eyes narrow up at Eris as you clock that tone of voice—that devilish look burning behind amber irises. “Let’s hope all that enthusiasm helps you survive the night.”

“Funny you should say that,” The way your hand elegantly rests in the crease of his extended arm feels utterly natural, no matter how much contempt is quivering behind the movement. “It’s not me who needs to worry about surviving the night.”

—

Playing the part of the demure, doting date is a million times more difficult than you make it look. Sweet smiles and the inviting shape of your figure brings in more attention than normal—or maybe it was because of who’d been permanently fused to your side since the second you’d arrived.

Eris had never been so on guard, amber irises raking over anyone who came within a five foot radius and most of your time is spent wading the rigid line of his shoulders. “Quit it,” You snap through your teeth, concealing the bite if your words with a bright grin. “You forced me to be here with you and now you’re scaring everyone off.”

“Forced you?” He doesn’t even sound offended—just smug as he motions to your hand curled comfortably around his bicep. “Is that the narrative you’re running with tonight, bunny? How unoriginal.” The body language portrays anything but ‘forced’ and once he’s pointed it out, you’re quick to pull away, snatching your hand back and grumbling profanities under your breath.

“What else would you call it?”

Eris feigns aloofness when responding, refusing to grant you the decency of his gaze and your spine goes ramrod straight when his words sink in. “I’d say it’s no different than when any of the other High Lords attend with their plus ones—though it seems theirs are more well behaved.”

“I’m not some hound who submits to your every command, Eris Vanserra.” Hurt lingers in the words you spit out just loud enough for him to hear. “What the other High Lords have are wives, partners—mates. They’re not cowards; wanting someone and stringing them along.” Tears well in your waterline, grip shaky around the flute of champagne until you abandon it altogether. “You’re wasting my time and I have little patience left to offer.”

You’re forced to walk away before the dam breaks, refusing to wear your heart on your sleeve for it never worked well before. Makes you too vulnerable; too tethered to a male too afraid to return the sentiment.

Balcony doors creak under your touch, opening just enough for you to slip through and close it behind you. For once, you’re grateful for the solitude. Basking in the cool breeze and the comforting smell of fresh flora, you let your eyes slip closed, a single tear falling free and your back bows as you sag against iron railings.

Just a single moment of weakness.

And it’s completely shattered by another presence.

“Want me to kill ‘em?”

You snap up like a spring, neck nearly snapping with the force it takes to turn so quickly. Palms wipe at your cheeks, straightening out the fabrics of your dress. “Sorry,” You quickly flush the moment realization sinks in, eyes taking in the towering Illyrian standing just a few feet away. His hair held in a neat bun at the nape of his neck, burly form slouched in a lounge chair, wings stretched high behind him. “I thought I was alone out here.”

“Looking how you do, I doubt you’re ever really alone.”

You scoff, this hateful, bark of a noise that refuses to be tampered down or subdued. “Not everyone shares your sentiment.”

“Date ditch you?”

“A girl could only dream. No, my ‘date’ is spending his time being a grade A douchebag—needed fresh air before I did something stupid.”

He hums in acknowledgment, a chilled glass of amber liquor dripping condensation down the thick stretch of his forearm. His head cocks to the side when he looks you up and down, making note of that forlorn expression casting shadows across pretty features. “Want to make him jealous?”

You should be ashamed for how abruptly the notion piques your interest. For how quickly satisfaction settles within your bloodstream at the thought of Eris watching you waltz around with this brick wall of a male and his effortless presence. “What’s in it for you?”

“Pretty thing on my arm is prize enough, even if it is just for show.”

There’s a pause where the Illyrian can literally see the gears turning in your head. Outweighing the risks. Mulling over potential consequences.

He can tangibly grasp the exact moment you shove all that aside—too scorned to give a shit about retribution. Too much time had gone into getting ready to waste it all on a male too prideful to cherish the gift wrapped before him. You head nods with finality, one hand outstretched before him. “It’s a deal.”

His hand is warm against your own, significantly larger and riddled with callouses. Tattoos the shade of obsidian is etched into tawny skin, arms rippling with muscles that bulge against the tight fit of formal leather attire. “I’m Cassian.”

“I know who you are.” Hesitation lingers in the set of your shoulders, spine not fully lax though Cassian doubts that’s fully possible with the skyscraper for heels adorning your feet. “Do you know who I am?”

His grin only grows when he stands at full attention, so tall your neck cranes just to meet his eye. “I’ve got a pretty good idea.” Ice clinks against his glass as he offers it to you, lifting the rim to your lips and muttering a soft praise when you drink obediently. “There’s a girl. Drink up, you’ll need the liquid courage.”

Liquid courage. Makes sense when it burns on the way down, easing frazzled nerves and a short temper until your arm slips in the crease of Cass’ elbow like it was a regular occurrence.

He’s confident. Borderline cocky with the way he urges you closer, hips bumping into one another with each step. The closeness does the trick though, a smoldering set of sandy eyes fall on you the moment you’re thrusted back into the fray. “Chin up,” Cassian murmurs softly, lips barely even moving over the words.

You’re led to the dance floor, situated smack dab in the middle. It’s a spectacle but something tells you that’s the whole point when Cassian circles a hand around your waist. The other reaches for your free hand, easing your fingers against his own until you’re palm to palm. “Do you even know how to dance? I don’t recall that being apart of Illyrian curriculum.”

It’s a harmless tease—the jab earning you a laugh so organic that it shows both rows of shiny teeth and a pantydropping set of dimples in his cheeks. “Pretty and funny. You really should consider not being so charming, I have an awful habit of hoarding treasures like you.”

Your head dips, a blush growing along the apples of your cheeks that only grows when Cassian is emboldened, ushering you in closer until you run the risk of stepping all over his toes. If he cares, you can’t tell, too washed up in the feeling of being shown off—proudly at that. “I appreciate you doing this for me. Even if it doesn’t work.”

“Trust me,” Cassian drawls, his gaze far off as he focuses on something behind you. “It’s working.”

He doesn’t elaborate, though he doesn’t really have to when you pick up on a familiar step pattern. Nose catching the earthy scent of spicy cinnamon and nutmeg. Of pine trees and bonfire smoke. “Bunny,” Eris fixates on the Illyrian’s hold on you, the corded muscle in his jaw jumping with the effort it takes to restrain himself from burning Cassian’s hands to a crisp. “Mind if I cut in?”

“This dance is nearly done.”

“And you’ll be finishing it with me.” It’s sick how desire pools in your belly at the possessive tone. How pleased you feel with yourself when Eris all but pries you away from Cass and into his own arms. You barely have enough time to say thank you to the Night Courts General before the eldest Vanserra has whisked you far, far away from those giant wings and the enigmatic wearer of them. “Where’d you run off too? I was worried.”

“Worried about what? That someone else was cherishing what you neglect?” You hum to yourself at the raw guilt that screws up the handsome pout of his mouth. “What’s that saying? One males trash…”

“You aren’t trash. You know I don’t think of you as trash.”

“No, you just treat me like it.” The chattering of guests drowns out your words from prying ears. “Hiding me at the bottom of the bin like you’re ashamed of me or something.”

You’re working yourself up again. Overthinking. Self-depreciating. Resenting. Digging a hole with no means of pulling yourself out but Eris halts that train of thinking with a hand to your jaw. The grip is gentle but firm, guiding you to look him in the eye; insisting you see the seriousness that swirls in the copper tones of his iris. “You are everything to me,” His confession stops you in your tracks. Steals your breath away at you hang onto every constant and vowel like a lifeline. “I wake up everyday just so I can see your face and I lay my head down every night praying that it’s filled with dreams of you—of us. Everything I do, anything I’ve ever done is to ensure your happiness. Your safety.”

“Eris..”

“No, listen to me.” Both hands cup your cheeks, all space eaten up until each breath he exhales in the air you inhale. Two halves of a whole slowly sliding into place. The final pieces of a puzzle connecting as one to fulfill the bigger picture. “You are mine.” Thumbs brush over the curve of your cheekbones, tracing at the slope of your nose and memorizing the shine of your lips. “My woman,” Tenderness leaks from every syllable, sincerity bleeding from every pore until you’re unable to fight back the rushing currents of your tears. “My love, my mate and while I can never promise to be a perfect male, I can vow that I am thoroughly vested in all things categorized as your best interest.”

“If I’d have known dancing with another male was all it took for such a confession, I’d have done so long ago.”A breathless laugh emits, one that softens the stern line of his brow and eases the fear his father engraved in his soul.

Noses brush, lashes kissing until your lips meet his own and all of your doubt is washed away. “I love you.”

“All I’ll ever love is you.”

[10byten]

Last night, I imagined Jaehyun telling everyone just how deeply in love he is with his girlfriend. The way he’d talk about what makes her so special in his eyes, how she’s this perfect mix of chaos and calm that he can’t get enough of. How she’s not just someone he loves—she’s the reason everything makes sense. And that’s it. Just Jaehyun, utterly smitten, trying to put into words what feels impossible to explain.

Jaehyun finally told the guys about you. The way you live in his head, rent-free. The way everything feels a little too quiet when you’re not there. He tried to keep you to himself, but he couldn’t anymore—not when you’re all he thinks about.

-

“Wait, can you say that again?” Mark’s eyes widen like a cartoon character caught mid-thought. The boys are all gathered around the living room table.

Jaehyun had called what they jokingly refer to as an “emergency assembly” to drop the bombshell: there’s someone in his life now, and he’s planning to move in with them. It’s time, apparently, to finally introduce them to his friends.

“I mean, I don’t know, you’ve been hyping this girl up for so long, and we still haven’t seen her. At this point, I’m starting to think she’s a figment of your imagination,” Johnny teases, leaning back in his chair.

“Ha. Ha.” Jaehyun deadpans, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I know I’ve been talking about her for a while, and yeah, none of you have met her yet.”

“And we don’t want to meet her,” Jungwoo says, dramatically crossing his arms and rolling his eyes.

“Don’t listen to him, hyung. We’re dying to meet your ghost girlfriend. Like, is this some ‘Ghost’ movie situation where only you can see her, or is she gonna appear if we summon her with a medium?”

Jaehyun throws a pillow straight at his younger friend’s face.

“She’s real,” he insists, his voice softer near the end as if embarrassed. “I just... didn’t want to share her. I wanted to keep her to myself for a while.”

“Oh, you were scared we’d steal your girl, huh, Jung?” Doyoung smirks.

Jaehyun snorts, shaking his head with a calm confidence. “Not a chance, Kim. She’s not into innocent little boys like you.”

Doyoung pulls a face, his mock outrage making everyone laugh.

“Well, I’m happy for you, man,” Taeyong says sincerely. “We’re all excited to meet her.”

“So, tell us—what’s so amazing about her?” Haechan leans forward, curiosity sparkling in his eyes.

Jaehyun’s gaze drops to the table, a thoughtful look washing over his face. Then his eyes light up, and a soft smile stretches across his lips.

“She has this... effect on me. When she’s not around, it’s like this itch I can’t scratch, and nothing feels right until she’s back. She’s got this way of making everything in my life just... easier. She makes me feel like even the stuff that doesn’t make sense is still okay, like it all fits somehow. Sometimes, it feels like she controls the weather—my weather—and I think maybe she does. At least in my world.”

He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck with a shy laugh. “Honestly, even I start to wonder if she’s a mirage. She must be made of some kind of magic, though, right? Because who else could do that to someone? Every time I’m with her, I feel a little more drunk on her. It’s weird, but I finally get that saying about having someone under your skin.”

The room falls silent. The guys are all staring at him, wide-eyed and stunned.

“And of course,” Jaehyun adds with a sheepish grin, “she’s gorgeous, sweet, sexy, brilliant, and funny.”

Haechan is the first to recover. “Hold up—what happened to the emotionally unavailable, zero-feelings Jaehyun we know? This guy’s a clone. We need to file a missing person report.”

“Shut up, idiot. It’s called being in love,” Yuta says, rolling his eyes. “You might figure that out one day if your brain ever grows up.”

“I know this doesn’t sound like me, but—”

“But it proves you’re really in love,” Yuta cuts in.

Jaehyun blushes and nods, unable to hide his smile.

“So, when do we get to meet this ‘delicious creature’ of yours?” Johnny asks, grinning like he’s not about to let it go.

-

“Hey, love. Where are you?”

You slip off your shoes the moment you walk into the apartment, already eager to see him. When Jaehyun spots you, his face lights up, and the book he was holding is instantly forgotten as he crosses the room to pull you into his arms. He lifts you slightly, and you laugh, wrapping your arms around him.

“Hello, love of my life.”

“Hello, you.” You kiss him softly.

“How was your day?” he asks, just like he always does.

“Intense. And yours?” you murmur, your fingers threading through his hair.

“Long without you. Fun with the guys,” he says, stealing a quick kiss.

“Oh yeah? What did you guys do?”

He looks at you deeply, his eyes full of warmth. “Talked. About stuff. About you.”

You tilt your head, feeling a mix of flattery and slight embarrassment.

“They’re coming for dinner tomorrow,” he says casually, brushing his lips against your cheek. “To finally meet you. Is that okay?”

“I’m okay with anything that involves you or the people you care about,” you reply between kisses.

Jaehyun groans softly against your lips. “You have to be unreal. Always saying the perfect thing.”

“Then I guess this is one beautiful illusion we’re living together.”

“It definitely is. babe”

-

Part 2

[ushiwakatrash]

The Bakusquad as Roommates

A/N: Hey babes, it's been a while! I've been so busy will college so I really couldn't write. But, yeah, I'm (kinda) back <3333

!Warning!: smoking (weed too)

According to the new rules, UA has decided to place two people per room.

(This deviates from the original plot line)

See the Dekusquad version here.

Bakugou Katsuki 爆豪 勝己

Did not like the thought of sharing his space with someone random but as per UA's orders, what choice did he have?

Very clean and very strict about house rules

Will constantly nag about how you can't do chores right

Your first weeks were a disaster. He was so scary and so intimidating, you thought he was the concentrated essence of evil

He's blunt and mean, but you figure out he just has a hard time expressing himself

One morning, he cooked breakfast for you but went with lame excuses like "I accidentally cooked too much." or "You look dead so fuckin' eat!"

Since then you went along with his shitty excuses and used them when giving him dinner

"Bakugou, you can have this 'cause I don't feel like eating anymore." or "They looked good so I bought twice as much for, uh, no reason at all."

Seeing your efforts in trying to be a good roomie, he warmed up to you eventually

Now y'all just argue like an old couple

Kirishima Eijirou 切島 鋭児郎

Looks tough, but he’s the sweetest guy you’ve ever met.

A literal angel

Day 1: friends

Day 2: besties

Day 3: you would take a bullet for him

He’s kinda messy and his punching bag takes a lot of space but hey, no one’s perfect

He always waits for you before he eats, and always saves you a plate when you’re running late because of extra training

You seek each other for comfort. Especially when Kiri feels insecure about how his quirk isn’t flashy or how he thinks it won’t make him a top hero one day

You, of course, would never want or let him think that way. It will never be a chore to remind him how he’s so strong and sturdy and how his muscles are hot

You know how much potential he has so if you have to repeat it a thousand times again and again, so be it

MUST PROTECT THIS CINNAMON ROLL

Kaminari Denki 上鳴電気

Had the idea of the old ‘bucket of water on top of the door’ prank as a big welcome to his roomie

What he didn’t calculate is that you have very sharp and fast reflexes.

Before the bucket falls on you, you hit it and the water splashes on Denki

Both of you were stunned at first but you recovered quickly and said “feeling cold, sparky?” with such a smug smirk

His face instantly got red and he stormed out of the room with comical tears shouting ‘MEANIE!!’

An hour later he returns, 2 popsicles in his hands. He hands you one as an apology and both of you reconcile, even if it’s his entire fault

You both get in trouble for blasting heavy metal at 3 in the morning MULTIPLE TIMES

The two of you made an agreement to do this ritual with headphones on because Mr. Aizawa had threatened to make you switch rooms

Sero Hanta 瀬呂範太

Ah, the potheads unite

It was a secret that you tried to keep under wraps since but the your roomie figured you out instantly

At first you both just shared vapes, trying out different flavors the both of you would buy

until you saw a bag in the bathroom that had an oh so familiar scent

You confronted Sero about it but he just gave you a 'what's the big deal' look so you shrugged it off

a few nights later he invited you for a session and you obliged, only if he kept it hush

this has been a routine since you could remember and Aizawa has never suspected you. I don't know about Mr. tape man though.

Ashido Mina 芦戸 三奈

There was no adjustment period for the both of you whatsoever

You both became instant besties and shared EVERYTHING

from skincare to clothes to maybe thongs at times but hey, girls do that shit

As if being roommates wasn't enough, you still hung out after class hours

Mina has been your greatest support system especially with boy trouble

Break a man's heart and she's as proud as any mother could be

Your heart is broken? A tub of ice cream and shitty movies are ready for you

She loves you like her own sister and constantly worries for you

Honestly the best roomie in town

𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

[wttcsms]

when you know, you know, atsumu miya ;

pairing atsumu miya x f!reader word count 1k synopsis atsumu considers marriage to be a trap, until he realizes that even a lifetime commitment to you isn't long enough content contains fluff, talks of marriage!!!! he's a softie

It starts off like this: nobody sees Atsumu Miya getting married — not now, not ever, not in the foreseeable future, nor in any of the millions of alternate and parallel universes that may or may not exist.

You’re just not the type of person we see settling down. 

Yeah, that might be true, but it still stings a little. It stings when he sees the white picket fences, and the cars with the MY KID’S AN HONOR STUDENT bumper stickers. It stings when he happens to accidentally catch a rerun of those family-centered sitcoms; the ones where they argue during the day and make up at night, with some cliche moral to the over dramatic situations that have occurred onscreen fifteen minutes ago. It stings when he watches his teammates get engaged and he has to congratulate them — he’s genuinely happy for them, don’t get him wrong — but still… 

It doesn’t matter. Atsumu Miya has long since held the firm belief that he’s just not the type of person the whole “fall in love, get married, have a family, cue the domesticity cuteness overload” schtick is meant for. Besides, it’s not like it’s something he’s spent years obsessing over (maybe months, at most). 

He rationalizes his bachelor status (that’s been a part of him for so long that it’s getting to become somewhat of a red flag for potential girlfriends) as him being the only one left with his priorities straight. After all, he doesn't have to worry about things like parent-teacher conferences or crayon drawings on the wall or trying to buy flowers to make sure the wife isn’t too mad when he comes home late. 

After all, he tells everyone, settling down is still settling. 

And Atsumu Miya, under no circumstances, ever settles.

Which is an ideal he clings to with such a tight grip, if it were flesh and blood, it would be suffocating. He doesn’t, he decides after a while, believe in marriage. 

(That is to say: he doesn’t believe that it’s possible for him. 

It’s not what he says explicitly, but it’s what he truly means.) 

So, when he tells you this on your second date, you’re a little stunned, but you’re quick to recover. Okay… So that’s the explanation you’ve been waiting for. The reason why this six feet two inches tall professional athlete with a bank account he generously withdraws money from has been single for so long is because he doesn’t believe in marriage. 

Other than that, he’s been nothing but great. Near perfect. So, all you do is nod and continue on with the original topic of the conversation. Eventually, your budding romance blooms into something much bigger than either of you ever anticipated or saw coming, and while you yourself have never mentioned the M-word after that date, it’s all Atsumu can think about right now. 

Marriage.

The concept of it looms over your relationship; a perpetual gray cloud that threatens to flood this perfect little relationship and have it all go down the drain. You never brought it up after he basically told you he would never marry anyone, and he never brought it up purely because — well — he’s a bit of a coward. 

He’s the type of person who’s set on his own convictions, by the way. If his balls ever drop, and he decides to Man Up, he figures he’ll start the conversation just like that. His stubbornness is nothing new to you, but him figuring out that he might be wrong makes his stomach feel funny. It’s sick and twisted. 

“Hey, what do you want for dinner tonight? I’m at the store right now, and I’m in the mood to cook.” He can picture it clearly: you, standing in one of the grocery store aisles, phone balanced in between your ear and shoulder as you compare the ingredients of the name brand and generic cereal. 

He’s in the locker room, about to pack up his gym bag (that you’ll complain reeks) and head back to his apartment (that’s starting to feel a lot more like yours, with the way your skincare products dominate the bathroom counter), and it hits him so suddenly, he has to sit back down on the bench. 

Atsumu Miya thinks that marriage isn’t for him, and as a defense mechanism, he decides that marriage sucks anyway. But through the tinny speakers of his phone, he can hear you toss something in the shopping cart. He hears the faint crying of a toddler in the background, and then he starts to think about what it would be like to walk around the store with a baby that takes after you. Right now, you’re already sleeping in the same bed with him at least four times out of the week, but it would be perfect, he thinks, to get the privilege to wake up to you every morning.

“Atsumu?” You try to get his attention, and Atsumu tries to ignore the warm and fuzzy feeling he gets when he considers a future with you. Settling down is still settling, he tells himself, and then he thinks of the way you looked when you caught the bouquet at a friend’s wedding. The pleased smile on your face, the triumphant way you held the flowers over your head, head thrown back in glee; you looked absolutely radiant. You caught his eye, and you quickly lowered your hands, giving him a sheepish grin. 

He realizes now that if anyone is settling, it’s you. You don’t know that he notices the way you tear up at weddings, or how excited you sound when you get back from dress shopping with one of your friends. You want to get married, and the only thing stopping you is him.

He’s spent ages deluding himself into thinking that he’s somehow losing if he decides to trap himself into a marriage with someone, but no one can accuse him of settling when it’s you he’s marrying. You’re the prize. You’re the only person in the world he wants to give his last name and an obnoxiously big ring to. 

“Make whatever you want, baby. I’ll eat anything.” He’s checking the locations for the nearest jewelers in his immediate vicinity. “I might be a little late, though. I have to check on something.” 

[aliesbienish]

A pleasant surprise

Summary: Colin returns from his travels with more than just teas and stories.

Paring: Colin ‘my wife’ Bridgerton x Female Reader

—————-

Saying you were nervous was an absolute understatement. In fact the honest truth is that you were on the verge of a panic attack. You knew this meeting was inevitable, had known really ever since you laid eyes on him. But the prospect of shocking, nay disappointing, his entire family made you feel nauseous.

Colin’s hand gently gripping your thigh, stopping your legs nervous bounce, was the only thing keeping you grounded. You could see the grand houses of the ton out the carriage, feel it coming to a halt. It was time, you wanted to run. However the man beside you was enough reason to stay. Colin was the love of your life, and you his. Hopefully his family could see that.

The valet opened the carriage door and you took a deep breath. Colin alighted first, then giving you his hand to help you out. Bridgerton house was stunning, flowers drooping from vines that ran up the brick walls. The sweet smell of the flowering wisterias engulfing you. You gripped Colin’s hand as he led you straight in, not bothering to wait at the front door.

The grand entrance opened in front of you, and you could see it was just as beautiful as the exterior. The walls, painted a lovely shade of baby blue, hung portraits showcasing the happy family. You let go of Colin to examine a painting of him in his youth but was interrupted by a shriek.

“Colin, your home!” A young girl screamed with delight as she ran and wrapped him in a hug. ‘This must be Hycainth’ you thought smiling. The commotion caused a flurry of footsteps and soon a mass of people were descending into the foyer from all directions. Each gave Colin a spirited greeting ranging from tight hugs to affectionate forehead kisses. Last to arrive was a beautiful women who had to be Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton, taking him in her arms and whispering how happy she was he was home. The closeness of the family brought a grin to your face.

And then suddenly you were spotted Hycainth and with a shout of “Who’s this?” all attention was directed to you.

“Family, I have an announcement.” Colin began, grabbing your hand in his. “This is my wife,” he declared introducing you by name.

“Your what?” One of the brothers, Anthony you presumed, muttered; the first to recovered from the shock.

“We met in Madrid while I was travelling”

“Madrid as in Spain? Does she even speak English. She probably just tricked you to marry into English money,” Anthony proclaimed, earning an elbow from his wife in the process.

Colin went to reply, but you gave him a gentle shake of your head.

“Viscount Bridgerton, what a pleasure to make your acquaintance. You are just like Colin describe,” you smirked, your polite words not matching with your tone of voice. “As you can see I do speak English, in fact I am from this country. Just outside of Bath to be exact. I too was doing some travelling when I met your brother in Madrid. My father, a Duke, was there on business and he asked me to accompany him. Colin and I met studying Spanish in a local language school, I wanted to understand the language so I could help my father negotiate his deals.”

“My apologies for my son, I believe he sometimes forgets he is not the only member of the family with some sense,” Violet said, a gentle smile gracing her face. “But may I asked what brought on marriage,”

“I knew Colin was feeling homesick, wanting to be nearer to his dear family yet my fathers business in Spain was not due to end for many months. We couldn’t bear the thought of being apart, and I didn’t want to be the reason Colin stayed away from his family.”

“She made the sacrifice to leave her family so I could be with mine,” Colin confirmed, pulling you in to his embrace. “I knew we were going to have to marry so we could travel together without scandal, and in all honesty I could not wait to call her my wife,”

“Oh sweethearts, congratulations” Violet muttered pulling you both into a hug. “But don’t think you’ll get out of having a celebration, there will be a ball thrown in your honour!”

One by one each family member came to greet you and give their congratulations.

Benedict gave you a giant hug followed by angrily whispering to his brother ‘How dare you leave me to face the ton’s mamas on my own, we had a pact’.

Eloise gave you a half smile, ‘I can’t say I see why you chose to marry my brother, clearly the imbecile is lacking in the upstairs department. However it would be nice to have another intelligent woman in the house, How would you feel about teaching me Spanish?’ You readily agreed.

Hycainth and Gregory both wanted to know if Colin and yourself had brought them anything from abroad, in which you winked conspiratorially as an answer.

Daphne and Kate both gave you warm hugs, and promised to get to know you more over tea once you settled.

Anthony was the final one to approach. He gave you an apologetic smile before muttering ‘I would be grateful if you could come help me with some documents in my study sometime. We have business in Spain and I admit that I know nothing of the language. Your insight would be a major asset to the family.

————-

Hope you all enjoyed! Honestly I just see this on brand for Colin. As if he didn’t fall in love with every female he crossed paths with. Basically I just picture him as young Bill in Mamma Mia

P.S. no surprise who greeted Colin with a forehead kiss xx

[solarsa1nt]

𐚁֙࿐ PEACHES

uraume x fem!reader

Tags — fluff , heian era , soft uraume

Notes — i use they/them pronouns for uraume!

"Uraume-san! Uraume-san!" Y/N calls, running through the halls of the large shrine to approach the monk.

"Y/N." Uraume greets back neutrally, turning their head away from the village man that they were speaking to moments earlier, tattered clothes dirtying the floors of the shrine.

"Eh?" Y/N pauses, smile faltering as she looks between the two. "Were you busy again? Sorry... I can—"

"No." Uraume interrupts firmly, turning their body to completely face the girl that had started to slink further back into the shrine. "It's fine."

"Really? I don't want to be a nuisance..." Y/N frowns apprehensively.

Uraume sighs at the insecure and nervous behavior coming from the normally out-going girl. "It's only a minor issue, someone else can deal with... him."

Uraume sends a subtle glare back at the man, prompting him to straighten his spine.

"Y-Yes! I should be g-going anyway..." The man stammers, quickly rushing out of the shrine like a scared mouse.

Y/N blinks in surprise as the man disappears from view. "Huh. You're really scary, Uraume-san."

Uraume frowns faintly at the admission, opening their mouth to say something as they look back at Y/N, words dying in their throat at the sight of the girl smiling at them in admiration.

"You and Sukuna-sama are so cool." Y/N sighs with an amazed smile, wonder dancing in her eyes.

Uraume blinks in stunned silence, it (embarrassingly) taking a moment to recover before they speak again. "What is it you wanted, Y/N?"

"Oh, right!" Y/N easily perks back up again, smile returning full-force. "I was wondering if you wanted to go peach picking with me! It's in season!"

"I-If it's not too much of an issue, of course..." Y/N adds, glancing away from Uraume sheepishly. "I wouldn't mind going alone—"

"No, you're not permitted to leave without Sukuna-sama or I joining you after last time." Uraume cuts off bluntly, never the one to sugarcoat things.

"It's not my fault that guy wouldn't leave me alone." Y/N huffs childishly, turning her head to the side with a pout.

"Of course not. It's merely a precaution." Uraume replies, tone completely unreadable. Although when Y/N glances over, her eyes catch onto their hands that were tightening into fists at the mention of that particular attempt.

Of course, people outside the shrine were aware of Y/N— a completely normal human with nothing special about her that, somehow, got in Ryomen Sukuna's favor.

So it didn't take long enough for people to target Y/N whenever she left the safety of the shrine— her being the only person they were able to attack. Uraume could use cursed energy and only a fool would dare to attack Sukuna himself, leaving Y/N the only one to defenseless enough to try to kill.

One man was even brazen enough to try and kidnap her— which resulted in his head being speared outside the village as an unspoken threat.

"So, peach picking?" Uraume prompts, drawing Y/N out of her musings.

"Oh, right! There's this really pretty peach farm an elderly man had last time I visited the village. He even gave me some!" Y/N rants excitedly. "He said I could come back any time and have some more since he doesn't have anyone else to give them to!"

"Hm." Uraume closes their eyes in thought, pausing for a moment before their dark pink eyes peer open again. "Alright, I will accompany you."

"Great! Thank you, Uraume-san!" Y/N squeals, tackling the monk in a hug, holding on for another second or two before pulling away to meet them face-to-face.

Uraume's eyes were blown wide, a faint pink dusting their pale cheeks that matched their eyes. Their lips were parted in shock— as if they went to say something but couldn't muster the words.

"You're the best!" Y/N praises, kissing their cheek before letting go, turning and rushing down the hall.

Uraume breathes in, raising a hand to their cheek as they blink incredulously— unsure of what the warm feeling bubbling in their chest is.

© 𝓢OLARSAINT 2024 ─── all of my works belong me alone! do not copy, steal, plagiarize, or spread any of my works in any other social media platform. these have only been reloaded on my own accounts on ao3 and wattpad

[the-marshals-wife]

Cinnamon Sugar (Colt Seavers x Reader)

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ 𝐑𝐘𝐀𝐍 𝐆𝐎𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ⋅☆⋅ 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ⋅☆⋅ 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

A/N: A spontaneous Colt fic because I saw The Fall Guy again and I'm hopelessly in love. Someone needs to get this man his coffee, and it might as well be you. ♥

Description: Colt Seavers x Fem!Reader, flirty fluff | Warnings: nada, just Colt being the supportive sunshine he is | Setting: before Jody (or AU without) | Word count: 2,129 | Gif credit: user tay-swifts

Imagine being Colt's old flame and reuniting under unexpectedly sweet circumstances

As it turns out, production assistant was just a fancy name for errand girl. At least that seemed to be the case for you in the nearly two years you'd held the title. Yet after everything you'd been through to get here, you couldn't lose this job. Nearly an hour after you were supposed to, you haphazardly assembled the daily morning coffees for the sound crew on Stage B, and were now rushing like mad across set to make the first of many apologetic appearances for the day.

"Excuse me, sorry," you repeat nervously as you duck around people.

You'd overslept your alarm after staying up nearly all night printing a mountain of forms for the design director. Having never even eaten breakfast, you calculated if you also skipped lunch, you might be able to catch up to your usual routine. You weave between the tents as fast as your legs will carry you, trying not to bump into anyone and lose your cargo of caffeine.

As you cut the corner around a camera truck, you're fixated on the tray of beverages in your hands, and you don't see the person right in front of you. You collide at full speed.

The tray flies back into your chest. You gasp as the lids of two of the cups pop off and pour coffee all down the front of you and the poor soul you collided with. You recoil and frantically try to catch the other two cups, but you're unsteady from the impact. A strong hand grasps your arm and keeps you from tumbling completely to the ground as you attempt to regain your balance and find purchase in the loose gravel. Despite your efforts to recover, the tray and all its contents falls at your feet. You're left drenched and clinging to the arm that's gripping yours.

You gape down at the mess, frozen in horror.

"I am SO sorry," you begin shakily, "Oh my gosh, I'm so so sorry! I'm such a-"

The second you look up, it feels like time stops, along with your pounding heart. You would know those baby blues anywhere, even through the narrow visor of a helmet. He removes his headgear, and you stare in complete disbelief at the rugged, all-too-familiar face before you.

"Colt?"

"Y/N?"

He sounds equally stunned, his eyes filled with recognition.

"It's you," you breathe.

"It's you," he says, flashing a bewildered smile, "Are you alright? Did you get burned?"

"I'm fine. It was lukewarm anyway" you reply, embarrassed, "Are you okay?"

"Perfect," he nods distantly, "Long time."

"Yeah. Furious Seven set, right?"

"Close. Fate of the Furious," he recalls, "Summer 2016. Havana, and Atlanta."

"That's right. I can never keep the order straight."

"No one can," he laughs, lips twisting into a grin, "You look great."

"So do you," you smile.

Somehow, he'd gotten more handsome than the last time you met. Memories come flooding to the front of your dizzied mind. Many of hot summer nights spent by the pool, and even more of sneaking off together to the hotel rooftops to be alone. Even now, you could still feel the warmth of his strong arms wrapped around you while you talked for hours beneath the stars, sharing your dreams and imagining the future. You'd hoped desperately that he would be in both. And here he was, crashing back into your life and looking at you as if he'd never left.

Knowing you were already slipping back under the spell of his lovesome stare, the coffee dripping off your cheek and down your neck brings you back to reality.

"Oh, look at your suit," you despair at the splatters, attempting to wipe them away with your shirt sleeve, "I'm so sorry, Colt. You know me, always the klutz."

"Don't worry about it. It looks like it's water and coffee resistant," he dismisses, gesturing to the helmet in his hand, "I'm the idiot walking around with this thing on. Just trying to slip away for five minutes without someone yelling at me. Director's got a stick up so far up his backside today, I think it's stabbing his brain, if you know what I mean."

"Oh I definitely do," you grin, followed with a sigh, "I think the whole art department has it out for me at this point."

As you swipe away the last of the obvious drops, your hand lingers on his chest. Blinking, you remember yourself and quickly step back.

"Unfortunately, I don't think my getup is as resistant as yours. Probably should swing by costuming next," you laugh, looking down at your soiled, previously white blouse.

"What am I doing?" Colt admonishes himself before shouting over his shoulder, "Uh, can we get a towel over here, please? Or two? Thank you."

Much to your gratitude, another assistant walking by hands you each a towel a moment later, the studio logo emblazoned on the corner. You hurriedly rub the black linen over your face and turn your focus to your ruined clothes.

"Great service around here," he remarks.

"Coffee delivery notwithstanding," you add.

As he brushes the remaining droplets off his shoulders, his expression turns hesitant. "Oh, you uh, missed a spot. May I?"

You pause wiping at your sleeves and nod to him. He delicately brushes away your hair to dab your temple with his towel, and his touch is almost as soft as his gaze upon you.

"There. Good as new," he declares.

"Thank you," you say, proceeding to wipe at your java-stained jeans in an effort hide your flushed cheeks. "I had no idea they brought you on."

"I've only been here about a week," he explains, clearing his throat, "The last guy's wife just had a baby. I'm just filling in 'til he gets back."

Your stomach sinks at the news, and you try to conceal your disappointment as he continues.

"But yeah, we started the shoot for the big chase scene today. Just wrapped up the opening shots."

"Wow, that's great. I can't believe I haven't seen you around before now. Then again, I don't see the set much while the cameras are rolling. I'm mostly behind the scenes, running all over creation bringing this and that. Speaking of which..." You toss the towel around your neck and squat down to clean up your accident. "I know some people on Stage B who are probably wondering where their drinks are right about now."

Colt takes a knee and retrieves the tray for you, and you begin to stack the empty cups and sticky lids.

"You're not going to get in trouble, are you?" he asks, worry in this voice.

You flinch at the thought, "Not much if I hurry up and remake these."

"Let me help you then."

"You don't have to do that, Colt. I'm sure you're busy."

"I'm on break, and you only dropped them because of me," he insists, "Even if I wasn't, what are they gonna do? Start without me?"

You smile to yourself. There was no arguing with him. He was just as charming as you remembered, and twice as stubborn.

"Alright, you win, Mr. Bigtime Stuntman," you tease.

He holds up the last cup and he raises his eyebrow suspiciously at the letters scribbled in marker on the side.

"What does the 'C.S.' stand for? Colt Seavers?"

"Cinnamon sugar, actually," you chuckle, "Vanilla latte with exactly six shakes of cinnamon sugar on top. Executive producer's favorite. He orders it every single day, no joke."

"That sounds good. I might have to try that myself," he smirks, "Is there like a coffee list I need to put my name on? Or do I just...swing by your trailer?"

"Like they give trailers to production assistants," you scoff, standing up.

Before you can pick up the loaded tray, he snatches it off the ground and jumps to his feet. You know better than to try to take it back from him.

Tucking his helmet under his arm, he gives a little bow. "Lead on, milady."

"The machine's in the catering tent," you giggle, walking in that direction.

"Why are you running around getting coffee for people anyway?" Colt asks, following alongside you, "I thought you were writing the greatest paranormal, pseudo-thriller mystery romance movie of all time? 'Lovers of Lives Past.' What happened with that?"

"You remembered," you say, blushing.

"Of course I remember! I love that story! Did you finish it?"

You frown, reminiscing on the hand that fate had dealt you since you were last together. "My mom had a bad fall, and I took off a year to take care of her. She's better now, but when I got back, I couldn't find any work. The studio wouldn't take me back in my old role. Said they 'downsized the crew.' That included the writer's room. I couldn't even get a spot as a proofreader. When this position finally opened up, I had to take it. It was that or quit the filmmaking world altogether," you sigh, crossing your arms, "I don't know, after being away so long, working on the script didn't seem to matter anymore."

"It does matter. If it means something to even just one person, it matters," he states emphatically, "It matters to you, and it matters to me, so that's already two people right there. Look at you go, Miss Bigtime Hollywood Screenwriter."

His words get a snicker out of you. You'd missed that unbridled enthusiasm of his so very much.

"Oh Colt," you say, shaking your head, "I don't think I have it in me to write a real movie. Besides, you know how quick the landscape changes in this business. No one wants the stupidly optimistic, cheesy stuff I write. They all want gritty, dark scripts or things they can make ten-year franchises out of."

He stops in his tracks and immediately faces you. "Now that's where you're wrong. People want the cheesy. They want the hope, even if they don't know they want it. They need it," he insists, "I know you can do it. I believe in you. But that doesn't matter unless you believe in you."

You stare at him thoughtfully, heart swelling. He was wasting no time reminding you of all the reasons you fell for him in the first place. As if you could ever forget.

"You're sweet," you say.

Sweet. Warm. Inviting. Comforting. Your cinnamon sugar.

He smirks. "It's the vanilla latte."

You start walking once again. The catering tent was close up ahead, and the butterflies in your chest were building up with every step.

"So um, where are you heading next? When the other guy gets back, I mean," you stammer.

"I'm not sure. My schedule is actually pretty open after this," he answers, giving you a coy look, "Why?"

"Just wondering," you say, biting your lip.

"I was thinking of maybe hanging around here a bit. Slow down, take in the scenery, see the sights," he suggests, "You know anyone who could show me around town?"

"I might." You fight to suppress your excitement as you sense his meaning.

"Colt!" someone calls out from behind you, "Pyro wants to talk to you about the ramp launch! They're worried about the impact of explosion on the car with you in it!"

Colt comes to a halt and groans, bowing his head.

"This is why I had the helmet on," he says under his breath.

You look over your shoulder and see that the voice belongs to the stunt coordinator. He had been friendly the few times you'd spoken to him while handing out donuts to the crew, but at present, he looked less-than-thrilled to be delivering that message.

"I see you, man! I know you can hear me!"

He finally turns on his heel to shout back. "Alright, just gimme a minute!"

"Chief wants to see you now. They're almost done prepping the next shot!"

Colt pivots back to you, wincing. "I'm sorry. He always gets intense over fire stuff."

You laugh and take the tray from his hands. "You better go. Wouldn't want you to get in trouble either."

"I'll be back for that coffee. Cinnamon sugar, six shakes exactly," he says with a wink as he steps in the other direction.

You give him a thumbs up. "I'll keep the machine running."

Mere seconds after you turn your back, he calls your name, and you're spinning around again.

"Hey, Y/N?"

"Yes, Colt?"

"Promise me you won't give up on your story?"

"Okay," you agree.

"Say you promise," he points a finger at you, walking backwards, "Say the words."

"I promise I won't give up," you concede, grinning, "Promise me you won't blow up?"

"Cross my heart."

[moonselune]

I literally check your page everyday for new writings and I'm never disappointed! I wanted to make a request too!

I wanted to ask how the ladies would react with a Tav that got into a lot of fistfights. They don't always win them and it isn't always their fault but they like to pick fights at bars or purposely defend someone getting harassed and egging on a fight. Sometimes they roll a nat 20 on intimidation sometimes it's a nat 1 lol.

Maybe Karlach and Lae'zel would be on board until Tav comes back with a broken jaw or something, maybe Jaheira can actually keep Tav from getting into silly little fights, and I'm not sure about Shadowheart and Minthara. Probably oh my god calm down until someone talks shit and then it's hold my mace lol.

But those are just my little thoughts, I'd like to know yours! Thank you for your content! I know it's free but let me get back on my feet with my job and possible school and I will definitely 'buy you a coffee'!

Omg thank you and absolutely no worries, I know what it's like x I also adore this idea!

Karlach:

The tavern was alive with the sounds of laughter, off-key singing, and the occasional slurred argument. You and Karlach were right in the thick of it, your arms draped around each other as you reveled in the end of another rowdy night. It had become something of a tradition—going out, drinking, getting into a fight with someone who deserved it, and stumbling home bruised but victorious.

Karlach loved it. The energy, the thrill, the righteous satisfaction of knocking a bastard flat on his ass. And tonight had been no different—until it was.

The fight started the way they usually did. Some drunkard got too handsy with a barmaid, or someone made a snide remark they thought they could get away with. This time, it was the latter—some slimy, overconfident lout made a crude comment about Karlach’s infernal engine, something about how "fiery" she must be in bed. You hadn’t even glanced at Karlach before your fist was already flying.

The man staggered back, stunned, and for a split second, the whole tavern went quiet. Then it erupted into chaos.

Karlach, naturally, was thrilled.

She let out a bark of laughter, slamming her gauntleted fist into the nearest idiot who had decided to back up his friend. Chairs crashed, drinks spilled, and you could feel the energy crackling between the two of you. It was exhilarating, chaotic, perfect.

Until the bastard you’d punched recovered enough to swing back.

You barely had time to register the movement before his fist connected with your nose. A sickening crunch filled the air, pain exploded across your face, and you stumbled back, hands immediately flying up to your face as blood started pouring down your lips and chin.

"Shit."

Karlach’s laughter died instantly.

The brawl was still raging around you, but she didn’t give a damn anymore. She was at your side in a heartbeat, her hands hovering uncertainly near your face, her eyes wide and frantic.

"Oh my gods, babe, your nose!"

You let out a wet, congested-sounding snort, still clutching your face, trying to wave her off with one hand.

"I’m fine!" you protested, though it came out more like ’mb ffbb’ through the blood.

Karlach did not look convinced. In fact, she looked horrified. "This was stupid! This was so fucking stupid—why do we do this?! Why do I let you do this?!"

You peeked up at her through teary, swelling eyes. "Because it’s fun?"

"Not anymore!" she snapped, her voice high with panic. "I just watched your nose break like a fucking twig! That’s not fun, that’s just—gods, baby, you’re bleeding so much—*"

She was fretting. Karlach, warrior of the Hells, the strongest person you knew, was fretting over you. It would have been adorable if your face didn’t feel like it was on fire.

"It’s fine, it’s fine," you tried again, sniffling through the pain. "Just—ugh—gimme a second, I’ll pop it back into place—"

"Oh, no the fuck you won’t!" Karlach seized your wrists, stopping you before you could do something truly regrettable. "We’re getting you out of here. Now."

The fight was still going on around you, but Karlach didn’t care. She scooped you up like you weighed nothing, barreled through the crowd, and stormed outside into the cool night air. You protested weakly, mumbling something about how you could walk, but Karlach was having none of it.

She sat you down on the nearest crate, gripping your face with both hands, tilting it this way and that as she examined the damage.

"This was so fucking dumb," she muttered under her breath, reaching for a rag from her belt to press against your nose. "We’re dumb. I let this happen. Why did I let this happen?*"

You chuckled, though it quickly turned into a groan. "You love it."

"*Not when you get hurt! Gods, I love fighting with you, but not like this! Not when you’re the one bleeding all over yourself!"

You blinked up at her, finally taking in the genuine distress in her eyes, the guilt flickering across her face. You frowned slightly. "Karlach, love, it’s just a broken nose—"

"Just a broken nose?" she repeated incredulously. "Babe, that’s your face! The face I love! Gods, what if it was worse? What if next time someone has a knife, or a club, or a godsdamned crossbow?"

You sighed, wincing as she dabbed at the blood trickling down your lips.

"I’m stronger than I look, you know," you murmured, voice softer now. "I’ve been withstanding pain like this my whole life."

Karlach froze, her brows knitting together as she stared at you. Then, slowly, she cupped your cheek, her touch infinitely more gentle than it had been just moments before.

"I know," she murmured, her thumb stroking softly against your skin. "That’s what scares me. You just take it. Like it’s normal. Like it’s okay."

You swallowed thickly, something in your chest clenching at the raw sincerity in her voice.

"It’s not okay," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "*You don’t *have* to just take it. You don’t have to prove how strong you are to me—I already know how strong you are. But, love, just once… could you not charge headfirst into a brawl? Could you let me have your back instead of always trying to throw yourself into danger?*"

Your throat tightened. Gods, she meant it. She wasn’t just upset over the fight—she was scared. For you. You sighed, your shoulders sagging slightly.

"Okay," you murmured. "I’ll try."

Karlach searched your face, as if making sure you were telling the truth. Then she let out a breath and finally cracked a small, wobbly smile.

"Damn right you will," she said, booping your still-bleeding nose.

You yelped. "Karlach!"

She laughed, loud and warm, the tension finally breaking. "C’mon, soldier. Let’s get you cleaned up before I decide to swaddle you like a baby."

You groaned, but leaned into her touch anyway as she fussed over you all the way home.

Minthara:

The moment you step into Minthara’s tent, you know you’ve made a terrible mistake.

You’re limping. There’s dried blood at the corner of your mouth, your ribs ache like they’ve been used for target practice, and your knuckles are torn to hell. Shadowheart, who was supposed to be your partner in crime tonight, is nowhere to be found—passed out drunk in her tent, completely useless to you. Halsin is off getting freaky in nature, which left only one option. The love of your life.

Minthara.

You barely make it through the entrance before she looks up from sharpening her dagger, her piercing gaze sweeping over you. She doesn’t even need to say anything. The flicker of amusement, followed immediately by exasperation, is enough to make you shrink.

"You’re limping." Her tone is flat.

You clear your throat. "Slightly."

She sets her dagger down with an almost deliberate slowness. "And your lip is split."

"Possibly."

Her gaze narrows. "And you’re holding your ribs like an old man clutching his coin purse."

You drop your arm to your side immediately. "That’s purely coincidental."

Minthara tilts her head, watching you like a cat watches a particularly slow-moving mouse. "Let me see if I understand this correctly. I told you, explicitly, not to get into a fight because you are still recovering from the last time you got your head caved in—"

"In my defense," you interrupt, raising a hand, "he started it."

"Did he?" she deadpans.

"Okay, I may have called his mother a gelatinous cube, but in my defense, he deserved it."

Minthara exhales sharply, dragging a hand down her face. "You absolute fool."

You grin sheepishly, but before you can utter another word, she’s already on you.

"You are aware," she begins, rising to her feet, "that I knew you would do this. That I knew you would ignore me, prance off to some filthy dive, and do exactly what I told you not to. That you would come crawling back to me, bruised, bloodied, and in need of my mercy."

Your mouth opens. Then closes.

Minthara smirks. "Admit it."

You shift on your feet, wincing. "…I may have slightly underestimated my opponents."

Minthara raises an eyebrow.

You sigh dramatically. "Fine! I got my ass beat, are you happy?"

She folds her arms. "Not yet."

You blink. "Wait, what?"

Minthara takes a slow, deliberate step toward you. "You want my healing?"

"Obviously?"

She leans in, smirking. "Beg."

Your stomach does a weird little flip. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." She taps a single, sharp fingernail against your chest, right where the bruises are worst, and you almost double over. "I told you not to fight. You disobeyed. You got yourself beaten senseless. Now, you want my help? You want me to undo your idiocy?" Her lips curl. "Then beg."

You groan, tilting your head back dramatically. "Gods above, you are impossible."

"And yet, I am the only one here who can mend you."

You glance toward Shadowheart’s tent, then back to Minthara. She follows your gaze and smirks. "Oh, you thought the cleric would save you? Pity she can’t hold her liquor as well as she says, isn’t it?"

You hate how smug she is. With a long, suffering sigh, you drop to your knees in front of her, placing a dramatic hand over your chest.

"Oh, my dearest, cruelest, most merciful Minthara," you begin, voice laced with exaggerated desperation. "I was a fool, an arrogant fool. I should have listened to your wise words, and now I am paying the price. Please, my love, my heart, my ever-so-beautiful goddess of destruction—will you please heal me before my ribs collapse inward and puncture my lungs?"

Minthara lets you grovel for a moment longer, clearly savoring it, before finally rolling her eyes and muttering under her breath. Warm, golden light spreads through your body, mending the worst of your injuries, easing the ache in your ribs, and sealing the split in your lip.

You sigh in relief. "Thank you."

"You are still a fool."

"Yes, but I’m your fool." You flash her a cocky grin. "And since I was very nearly murdered tonight, I think I deserve some cuddles."

Minthara scoffs. "Cuddles?"

"Yes." You flop dramatically onto her cot, holding your arms out expectantly. "I require immediate comfort."

Minthara stares at you for a long moment, clearly debating whether to throw you out of the tent entirely. But, after a second, she sighs and shakes her head. "You are insufferable."

"And you love me."

She grumbles something under her breath but, to your delight, she climbs in beside you, settling in with a huff. You immediately pull her close, pressing your face against the crook of her neck, and for all her earlier scoffing, she doesn’t pull away.

"Next time," she mutters against your skin, "*I am breaking your legs myself so you can’t go out.*"

You chuckle sleepily. "Kinky."

She smacks the back of your head.

Lae'zel:

Lae’zel watched from the corner of the tavern, arms crossed, as you moved through the chaos of the fight like a blade through flesh.

At first, she was impressed. Even intoxicated, your form was strong, your strikes well-placed. You dodged and countered with the reflexes of a trained fighter, and she felt the faintest flicker of approval at your skill.

But then she noticed.

Your footing was loose. Your balance wavered just slightly. You were relying more on instinct than control, and that was dangerous. And then the fool you were fighting landed a solid hit to your jaw, sending you stumbling back. Her admiration quickly turned to anger.

"Enough."

Lae’zel moved before she even registered the thought, her body reacting purely on instinct. In a blur of motion, she was at your side, shoving you behind her as she punched your opponent square in the face. The sound of breaking bone rang through the tavern. The man collapsed like a sack of grain.

The room fell silent.

Lae’zel scanned the other patrons, her glare sharp enough to cut. No one dared step forward. She turned back to you.

"You idiot," she hissed, her voice low and furious. Before you could protest, she bent down and hauled you up, throwing you over her shoulder like you weighed nothing.

"Lae’zel—hey—put me down!"

She didn’t listen and with a huff, she carried you out of the tavern, ignoring your weak protests and the scattered laughter from the remaining patrons.

"This is humiliating," you groaned, letting your body go limp.

"It is what you deserve," Lae’zel snapped. "What kind of warrior allows themselves to get so inebriated they cannot even hold their stance properly?"

You pouted, wincing as the motion pulled at your split lip. "I was doing fine."

"You were losing."

You grumbled under your breath, crossing your arms against her back. "I had it handled."

"You were struck in the face like a witless hatchling."

"Only once—"

"Enough." Her grip on you tightened as she carried you back to camp, her muscles flexing as she adjusted your weight with ease. "You are stronger than this. You are better than this. You disgrace yourself by allowing drink to make a fool of you. I cannot stand it, I cannot stand to watch you get hurt"

You sighed, the room spinning either from the amount of drink you had consumed or the blossoming concussion. "You care."

"I am irritated."

"You really care," you repeated, your voice a little softer this time. "If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be carrying me."

Lae’zel was silent for a moment. Then she exhaled sharply, the sound closer to a sigh than she’d ever admit.

"You are mine," she muttered at last. "And I will not allow you to be so careless with yourself."

A small, tired smile tugged at your lips. Even through the pain in your jaw, even through the exhaustion settling over you, warmth bloomed in your chest.

"You’re a terrible liar," you murmured, pressing your forehead against her shoulder. Lae’zel scoffed but said nothing. And though her voice was sharp, her hold on you was gentle all the way back to camp.

Shadowheart:

"You are not getting into that fight."

Shadowheart’s voice cut through the noise of the tavern, sharp and unwavering. She stood with her arms crossed, her dark eyes fixed on you with a mix of warning and exasperation. She had that look—the look—the one that meant she was already planning the I told you so speech for later.

You, in your infinite wisdom and three drinks deep, shot her a lopsided grin. "Come on, it’s just a bit of fun."

"Fun?" she repeated, arching a perfectly sculpted brow. "Oh yes, of course. Who doesn’t enjoy getting their teeth knocked out by some brainless drunk?"

You chuckled, rolling your shoulders in preparation. "It won’t come to that."

"You’re drunk," she pointed out, unimpressed.

"Just a little!"

"That’s exactly my point." Shadowheart sighed, rubbing her temple like she was already exhausted by you. "Don’t do this."

But, predictably, you ignored her. And the fight broke out not even five minutes later. Crawling back to camp was nothing short of humiliating.

You limped towards Shadowheart’s tent, every step punctuated by a sharp, pulsing pain in your ribs. Your lip was split, your jaw ached from a particularly nasty punch, and you were fairly certain your nose was either broken or very close to it.

And to make matters worse? Shadowheart was waiting.

She was seated on her bedroll, calmly polishing her armor in the dim glow of the campfire. She barely spared you a glance as you shuffled in, cradling your ribs.

"Go on," she said without looking up. "Say it."

You hesitated. "…Say what?"

She finally turned, her dark eyes locking onto yours with unrestrained amusement. "You know exactly what."

You shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, wincing as pain flared through your side. "I might need some healing."

"Might?"

You groaned, defeated. "Definitely. I definitely need some healing."

Shadowheart sighed, but there was something smug in the way she set her armor aside and motioned for you to sit. "Unbelievable."

You slumped down beside her, biting back a hiss of pain as you did. A soft, warm glow spread from her fingertips as she channeled her magic, the soothing energy flowing through your body and mending the worst of your injuries.

And then—

"Oh, you poor thing," she cooed, her tone suddenly dripping with mock sympathy. "Did the big bad fight not go your way?"

Your eyes snapped open. "What?"

She patted your head. Patted you, like you were some foolish child who had fallen off a horse. "Didn’t listen to me, did you? Nooo, of course not. That would have been smart."

You groaned. "Shadowheart—"

"Shhh," she hushed you, dramatically brushing a hand over your hair. "The grown-up is talking."

You scowled, but she only smirked, her fingers tilting your chin up so she could inspect your nose.

"Hmm," she mused, tapping it lightly, "you’re lucky it’s not completely broken. Still, it looks like it hurts."

"It does hurt," you grumbled. "Which is why I came to you."

"And here I thought you were just visiting because you enjoy my company," she teased, her lips quirking into a smirk.

You let out a long-suffering sigh. "You’re never going to let this go, are you?"

Her grin widened. "Absolutely not."

Shadowheart took her time finishing up her healing, making a show of carefully wiping the last of the blood from your lip with a damp cloth. It was almost gentle—almost—except for the way she was clearly relishing every second of your embarrassment.

"There," she said finally, tossing the cloth aside. "All patched up."

"Thanks," you muttered.

But before you could even think of making a dignified exit, she smirked.

"Now," she said, nudging you backwards onto her bedroll, "lie down. You’re officially on time out."

You groaned. "Oh, come on—"

"Nope. You acted like a reckless child, so I suppose I’ll just have to treat you like one," she said, patting the spot beside her with a mocking little smile. "Now, be good and rest, darling."

You grumbled under your breath but complied, slumping onto her blankets.

Shadowheart smirked. "That’s what I thought."

And despite her teasing, despite the endless humiliation, you couldn’t help but smile a little as she settled down beside you, her fingers absently brushing against yours.

Jaheira:

You barely felt the punch land, which was probably a bad sign.

The world spun around you in a chaotic blur of overturned chairs, shattered mugs, and the thick smell of ale and sweat. Someone’s boot caught your side, sending you stumbling back against a table that definitely hadn’t been there a second ago. You were grinning like an idiot, adrenaline and drunkenness making you blissfully numb to the fact that you were very much losing this fight. And then—

"By Silvanus, you absolute disaster of a person."

Jaheira’s voice sliced through the noise, clear and exasperated. You blinked blearily toward the entrance, where your beautiful, radiant, stunning lover stood, hands on her hips, looking every inch the furious savior you never knew you needed.

"Jaheira!" you slurred, pushing yourself up with what little dignity you had left. "My love, my light—"

"You’re concussed," she deadpanned.

"—My warrior queen!" you continued, unbothered. Jaheira sighed through her nose, then rolled up the sleeves of her tunic.

"Alright," she muttered, stepping forward. "Which one of you idiots started this?"

You pointed at a random guy. "All of them!"

The nearest brute lunged at her. Big mistake.

Jaheira ducked beneath his swing effortlessly, her elbow snapping up into his gut before he could even think about retaliating. He doubled over with a wheeze, and she didn’t waste time—she caught him by the shoulder, yanked him forward, and slammed him face-first into the very same table you’d been struggling to stay upright against moments ago.

You let out a loud, drunken cheer. "*Gorgeous! Incredible! Have I ever told you how hot you are?*"

Jaheira barely spared you a glance as she sidestepped another attacker, twisting his arm behind his back and tossing him into a pile of already unconscious bodies.

"Yes," she said dryly. "Many times."

"And you never believe me!" you lamented.

Someone else tried their luck, a stocky man with more muscles than sense. Jaheira simply kicked him in the chest, sending him sprawling backward into a row of barrels. He didn’t get up.

"Have I mentioned you’re the most skilled, amazing, unparalleled—"

Jaheira turned, grabbed the last remaining idiot by the collar, and headbutted him hard enough to make your skull ache. He dropped like a sack of potatoes.

"…Absolutely terrifying woman I’ve ever met?" you finished, blinking at the carnage.

The bar was a mess. Broken furniture, spilled drinks, and unconscious (or groaning) men littered the floor. Jaheira stood at the center of it all, adjusting her tunic like she’d just finished tending her garden rather than wiping out half the tavern.

Then she turned her sharp, emerald gaze to you.

"You are a menace," she said, striding over. "And a fool. And an idiot—"

"I am very concussed," you reminded her helpfully.

"And concussed," she added, before grabbing you firmly by the scruff of your robes. "Come on."

You stumbled after her as she dragged you bodily toward the exit, your feet barely keeping up. "Jaheira, my love, my storm, my—"

"Walk," she ordered.

You did. Barely. But as she pulled you through the ruined tavern, you couldn’t resist turning back to the remaining patrons—many of whom were watching in awe, some in horror, a few taking bets on whether you’d survive the night.

"I’m gonna get lucky tonight!" you announced proudly.

Jaheira didn’t even hesitate. "Say that again and I swear I’ll dunk you in the river."

You gasped dramatically. "You wouldn’t!"

She yanked you out the door and toward the road. "Try me."

You pouted but leaned into her, letting her guide you with a firm arm around your waist. Maybe you were concussed, bruised, and a complete and utter mess.

But Jaheira was here. And gods, she was magnificent.

guys they changed the Lucille font idk what to do with my life. I really loved writing this and i hope you guys enjoyed it! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[lexirosewrites]

Ficlet idea, designer Eddie and model Steve

OH NO OMFG this prompt was from a year and a half ago (September 2023) because i apparently wrote this whole thing and then accidentally lost it in my drafts😭😭😭 might as well post it now!

A New Muse

Eddie can’t say how he went from the Indiana trailer park to having his own collection at New York Fashion Week without explaining that things like that don’t usually happen to people like him.

Maybe it was the luck of being born an alpha. Or maybe it was just stupid fate.

Who knows? Certainly not him.

And although he’s been used to the lifestyle of excess and glamor for a while now, sometimes the world he lives in now still manages to amaze him.

All it took was a lucky break and his work being seen by the right people. Then he’d been whisked away to riches and fame, his name becoming known by every young adult in a matter of months.

Suffice to say that by this point, Eddie wasn’t overly surprised when he was asked to do a feature piece in a big time magazine. The editor had specifically requested for him to design a few grunge menswear outfits to be modeled alongside the article about his rise to success.

Eddie spent weeks grueling over his designs, making sure all his pieces were representative of the kind of work he does, but it was a struggle to create something that he was proud of and that would explain his vision of fashion.

The interview itself was simple enough, just a handful of questions by someone who already knew far too much about his life. They skirted around his less than pretty past and played up the rags to riches aspect that everyone loved to oversell when it comes to alphas.

And then came the photoshoot.

Eddie had been given measurements of an up-and-coming model who would be showcasing all of the designs. Supposedly, the guy was fine modeling both masculine and feminine clothing, so Eddie was able to keep his sizing consistent across the board.

The only mistake was that he was never given a photo of the model. Or told that he was an omega.

He had no clue that the model would be the most stunning man he’s ever seen.

“Hi, I’m Stevie,” the angle introduced himself with a dimpled smile and wide eyes. His scent dripping with sugary sweetness. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Eddie almost forgets to shake his hand, too enamored with the beautiful omega being presented to him on a platter. He recovers enough to slip his hand into the waiting one.

“I’m an alpha.”

That’s definitely not what he meant to say.

Steve chuckles, a soft charming little thing.

“Good to know. Do you have a name, alpha?”

Eddie’s tongue feels too big for his mouth. He might be drooling. He’s definitely lightheaded.

The omega called him alpha. He could be his alpha.

“Um, I’m so sorry! Eddie! It’s Eddie!” he spits out in a rush, attempting to recover from his temporary lapse in sanity.

Another angelic noise of amusement.

“You’re sweet, Eddie,” Steve tells him, sounding slightly forlorn about it. “But I can’t date a coworker.”

Eddie can practically feel his ears pin back against his head in disappointment like a kicked puppy.

“Oh. Right, yeah, no that makes sense. Smart idea. Gotta be careful when you’re a professional.” His voice is thin and unconvincing.

Being rejected by a perfect angel hurts more than he thought it would.

Steve’s perfectly plump lips turn upward slowly.

“But if you find me after the shoot when we’re not coworkers anymore, you can buy me coffee. That is… if you let go of my hand so I can do my job first.”

Jesus Christ.

Eddie had never let go of his hand.

He loosens his grip long enough for Steve to make it through the shoot and then he vows to never let go again.

They’re mated a year later, right before Steve changes his modeling demographic to maternity photoshoots instead.

And Eddie finds his lifelong muse.

[ghoaper4ever]

Thinking about post MW3 how ghost is coping with soap’s death by picking up the things he used to do,

Maybe he picks up drawing, buys himself a journal identical to soaps. It starts off shitty but he still does it anyways because soap would love each of his doodles- shitty or not,

Next he picks up coffee, everyone knows ghost hates coffee- despises it, the grimace on his face every time he takes a sip says it all but no one says a word about it,

One day, price finds him in his office sitting by his window, he’s asleep, price goes to wake him up but upon a closer look he sees that theres a worn out book in his lap, its soap’s favorite book.

They’re on a mission when things suddenly take a turn for the worst, theres an unidentified bomb and no one to defuse it, it was a simple recon mission, he’d been sent alone as usual, at first he finds the mission a little sketchy but stays at his post- however when he starts seeing cars rolling in, he reports back to price and goes in for a closer look even after price tells him not to.

After observing the cars from a distance, seeing them roll out immediately after delivering whatever packages they had to the seemingly empty warehouse, he waits a couple of minutes before moving in and checking around the perimeter , after deeming it clear he’s on comms with price telling him the situation, he can hear the hesitation in prices’ voice after giving him the go to check the supply that had been dropped off,

Shuffling through the boxes, he finds nothing but some wood work paraphernalia. Ghost lets out a deep exhale and raises his hand to his shoulder for his comm when his eye spots a box that he missed, when he opens the box and discovers its an active bomb with the timer running, he immediately informs price and springs into action,

Meanwhile price is informing laswell about the current situation and requesting an immediate exfil to which she denies and tells him he needs to disarm the bomb. He bristles with contempt at that and ends their call without any further delay,

Their intel had been lacking from the beginning, and he was not about to lose another member of his team- of his family, he is contacting nikolai when gaz comes into his office to inform him ghost is requesting him on the comms,

While price had been on his way to being discharged because of his impulsiveness and willingness to break multiple rules to get his man out of that situation, said man had simply told him that the bomb had been defused and that when can exfil arrive,

Astonished by the implication of that statement, he asked ghost how did he disarm it all by himself even though he didn’t have any demolition training, to which he was met with silence and then a quiet,

“with Johnny’s help..”

Price stood there with a stunned look on his face but quickly recovered and informed ghost that exfil is on its way.

When ghost lands back on base and exits the heli to see price and gaz waiting up for him, he walks up to them and says nothing, no one does for a bit until price lets out a deep sigh and puts his hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze,

“Good job out there, son.”

Gaz gives him a small smile and they all walk back towards their respective barracks and offices.

Ghost, freshened up after a shower, goes to the rec room to get something warm to drink and sees gaz there by the kitchen counter making himself a cuppa, ghost joins him and they’re both making their drinks in silence when gaz breaks it,

“We miss him too, you know?”

Ghost freezes but quickly recovers and gives him an answering hum before moving to the small kitchen table and sits on the chair, gaz joins him with a plate of biscuits and they both sit in silence.

Then ghost speaks,

“Bastard always liked to run his mouth whenever he was defusing a bomb, i picked it up after he..”

He couldn’t continue without his voice shaking but gaz knew so he didn’t say anything further.

They’re all trying to fill in the hole that has been left by him in some way or another.

You can’t fill a bottomless hole.

[moonchild9350]

Three Wishes

Summary: You find a vessel one day and unsure of what it is you take it home. Later, the being within informs you that you get three wishes only to change your fate forever. But, there's no warning to tell you to be careful what you wish for...

Pairing: Genie Jisung x gn reader

Genre: psychological thriller, angst

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: mention of supernatural people/actions (?), anxiety, panic attack, implied death (murder), everyone is just a dick

Notes: another installment for spooktober! A spin off the old classic of genie in a bottle haha.

If you enjoyed this, please like, comment, and reblog, it makes my day ♡

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

If you try to cure evil with evil you will add more pain to your fate. -Sophocles

It was a chilly night, the wind blowing, causing you to pull your jacket closer around your body. You were walking fast, trying to get home safely, the city not known to be the safest after sunset. As you walked, you came across a shiny object that was leaning against the concrete wall. Getting a closer look, you realized it was a vessel of some sort.

Against your better judgment, you picked up the item, and turned it around, looking at the ornate details. You thought it was a pretty trinket and decided to pocket it, sliding the vessel into your coat pocket. You continued to hurry home, the thought of a warm drink and your fuzzy socks on your mind.

Later that night as you prepped for bed, you remembered the vessel, settled within your coat pocket. Reaching in, you grabbed the item to inspect it again. You turned it over slowly in your hands, oogling the intricate design.

You ran your hands over the side, feeling the smooth texture. Suddenly, you felt a rumbling within the vessel, the object slightly shaking in your hands. Your eyes widened, unsure if you imagined that the vessel moved. You noticed smoke start to come from the top, drifting up and outwards throughout your room.

You dropped the vessel, it creating a soft thud, as it landed on your carpet. You slowly backed away, watching as it continued to shake again and again until a figure drifted out.

You let out a shriek, terrified at what was in front of you. You felt your heart beat rapidly in your chest, as you sank to the floor, your eyes trained on the being that was now hovering in the air. There was a man, floating from the vessel, his body almost translucent. Surely you were dreaming; yes, definitely a dream.

Frozen in place you watched the man look around, his eyes roaming the room before the harsh orbs landed on you. He took you in as he cracked a smile.

“Why hello friend, thanks for releasing me. I’m Jisung. I can make any wish of yours come true. Be careful, however, because I can only grant three.”

Your brain tried to keep up, as Jisung spoke. Three wishes? Is this a joke? You thought genies in a bottle only occurred in fairy tales. You were stunned, not sure what to say.

After a moment of thought, you said, “Uhhh three wishes?”

“Yes, yes, three wishes. Weren’t you listening?” Jisung snapped.

Jeeze he was moody you thought. It's like he expected you to encounter floating men on a daily basis.

You recovered from your initial shock, sitting up more comfortably. Your heart was still beating rapidly, as you continued to think. Three wishes? What would you wish for? You weren’t really happy, your life full of posers who claim to be your friend. Wouldn’t it be nice to be happy for a change? Is that too much for you to ask Jisung?

Clearing your throat you decided to ask your first wish.

“ I wish to be happy.”

“Consider it done,” Jisung said before disappearing back into the vessel.

’That’s it?’ You thought. Did it work? You had no way of really knowing, not at the moment at least.

You would probably find out tomorrow, as it was the middle of the week and you had to go into the office. Hopefully everything would go as planned.

The next day, you were on your way to work, catching the train as you usually do. You made your way through the car, looking for somewhere to sit. You smiled as you found the perfect spot near a window. Only problem was there were others in your way.

“Excuse me. Can I get through?” You asked, politely smiling at the woman blocking your way.

You expected her to apologize and move, but were shocked when she didn’t budge. The lady did not even spare you a glance. You thought this weird, but maybe she just didn’t hear you.

“Umm excuse me?” You cringed as it came out as more of a question.

The lady still didn’t move or look your way. Weird. You decided to push pass, shuffling your body awkwardly behind her to make your way to the empty seat. After much effort you made it, plopping down with a huff. Why didn’t they at least acknowledge you? Maybe it’s just a fluke, she’s having a bad day and doesn’t want to talk to anyone. You’ve had plenty of those days after all.

Arriving at your building, you made your way to your office. However, security didn’t greet you like they usually do. They didn’t look your way either. You let that slide too. Who says they have to greet you when you walk into a building? You’re no one special.

Once on your floor, you opened the door to the busy office, your coworkers walking quickly to their destinations, their arms full with documents. You made your way to your little cubicle, passing your work friend.

“Hey Mavis,” you said greeting your friend as you sat down.

Mavis didn’t reply as she continued to type, her fingers flying across the keyboard. You thought this weird as she’s usually gushing to you about her day.

“Hey Mavis!” You repeated, popping your head around the divider.

Still nothing. She didn’t look up, reply, or even make a face. She just kept typing. Strange.

You decided to get to work, not letting it get to you. The day passed, as you peacefully completed your tasks. No one bothered you, no one even so much as even looked at you, their eyes glancing behind you if you tried to speak to them. It was nice to a certain extent…until you wanted to chat with someone.

You tried to speak with Mavis, but she kept ignoring you. She ignored your question of if she wants to eat with you, if she wants to grab food after work, if she had the reports for the file that you were working on putting together.

You felt like you couldn’t successfully complete any of your tasks because everyone was ignoring you. Once the end of the day came, you felt defeated, unproductive, and more than a little confused.

You made your way into your apartment, flopping face down onto your bed. Your mind was a mess, a jumble of thoughts causing your head to hurt. Today was odd. You’re not sure why everyone ignored you. A part of you was happy, not really having to interact with people, but you’re not sure how you felt about your colleagues ignoring you, as it effected your job.

Deciding to see how tomorrow goes, you pushed the thoughts to the back of your mind and got ready for bed, snuggling under your warm covers. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep as you fell into a dreamless slumber.

The next day you thought would fare better, however, you were wrong. Those around you continued to ignore you, just as they had the day before. You felt ok about it yesterday not really caring much, but today not so much.

You could feel your anxiety start to take over, wondering what is happening. Is this occurring because of you? Why the sudden change? You racked your brain over the events of the last few days, trying to understand where you could have gone wrong.

You were pacing your apartment, your thoughts like a whirlwind, causing a foggy feeling to descend. Suddenly, you stopped in your tracks. It couldn’t be could it? The only thing that has occurred was finding that vessel on your way home.

You remembered what you wished for, to be happy. You were happy at first, nobody bothering you, getting in your way. However, that feeling slowly dissipated, sadness and loneliness creeping in.

You had to make sure this was the cause of the events of the last few days. Walking over to the counter, you stopped in front of the vessel, eyeing it for any signs of life.

Cautiously, you picked up the object and lightly stroked the side. It started to shake and rumble, just like last time. Instead of dropping it, you placed it down carefully on the counter and took a step back, waiting for Jisung to come out.

A few moments later, smoke drifted from the opening, Jisung materializing in midair.

“Hi doll,” Jisung said, a smirk on his face. “Ready for your second wish?”

You hesitated at his words, thinking for a moment. You could fix this possibly with another wish. But first you wanted to question him about the last few days.

“My first wish was to be happy. Yet, all that’s occurred is that everyone has been ignoring me.”

“Yes, it’s what you wished for. To be happy. Were you not happy the last few days?” Jisung asked.

You thought long and hard. You supposed you were a little happy, but it’s pretty lonely not being able to interact with people, even if it’s just saying hi. Maybe if you knew what people were thinking you could interact appropriately? You weren’t sure if this was the way to go, as it could make everything worse. But you have nothing to lose…right?

You decided to go ahead with the wish.

“I was but I became lonely with no one to talk to. Can I make my second wish?”

“Of course,” Jisung replied, gesturing for you to go on.

“I wish to know what people are thinking.”

“Done.” Jisung said as he disappeared back into the vessel.

Satisfied everything would be great going forward, you went about your day. Tomorrow you would test out the second wish and everything would be much better.

The next day, you got ready for work with renewed vigor, hopeful for the day ahead. You were convinced it would be a good day. Grabbing your stuff, you made your way to work.

As you sat in your seat on the train, you were looking out of the window, staring at the buildings as they passed by. Suddenly, you heard a voice from the lady next to you. It sounded like she was mumbling something.

You tried to ignore her, not wanting to seem like you were eavesdropping, but as she continued to mumble, you couldn’t help it. You listened closer, trying to make out the words.

”god why did they have to sit next to me? That outfit is horrible ugh. What am I going to eat for dinner tonight?”

You sat up straighter, not believing what you heard. Surely she doesn’t mean it, she doesn’t even know you. Maybe she was talking about the girl in the row next to you. You took a moment to listen more closely and were able to start to make out all the voices around you. The words floated around you, each syllable indistinguishable from the next, causing you to feel slightly overwhelmed. You closed your eyes, and rubbed your temples, feeling that familiar pulse that forms when a headache is coming.

At that moment, the train stopped at your exit. You rushed to get off the train, stepping onto the platform. Taking a deep breath, you made your way towards your work place. The whole way there, you could hear voices around you, the words reaching your ears in muffled tones, some words becoming clear every now and then.

You ran the whole way to the building and eventually to your cubicle, not caring who was looking at you as you could hear their thoughts anyway.

“Why are they running? “Oh here y/n comes, weird as always.” “Omg do you see how they look, why bother coming to work? No one likes them anyway.”

Your head throbbed, you could feel tears pricking the corner of your eyes, threatening to fall at any moment. You quickly took a detour to the bathroom, locking yourself in a stall. You felt your breathing pick up, your chest rapidly rising and falling. Your hands began to shake, as you felt the all too familiar sensation of tingling in your hands. You took a deep breath and then another, willing yourself to not panic. Everything would be ok, everything would be fine.

Wiping the tears from your face, you got up and unlocked the door and walked to the sink to check your appearance in the mirror. Your makeup was smudged, streaks of black smeared around your eyes and dripping down your cheeks. You quickly wet a towel and wiped the smears away, leaving your face and eyes red and puffy. ‘Oh well’ you thought, tossing the towels away. There was nothing you could do to remedy the damage.

You left the bathroom and made your way to your desk, not stopping to talk to anyone, not that they wanted to anyway. Sitting down, you settled in, prepping for another busy day. You tried not to listen to the voices around you, the constant mumbling becoming louder as the office filled up with your coworkers.

You began working, making your way through file after file. As time went on, the voices became louder around you,

“Did you see what happened to y/n this morning?” “I can’t believe they keep them on the team, their works are not that good.” “They should just fire them.” “They should just not come back.” “Looks like they have been crying, look how puffy their face is.”

You couldn’t take it anymore, as you felt like you were about to have another panic attack. You had to get out of here now. You’ve made enough progress for the day anyway. Slamming your laptop shut, you packed up your bags and walked to your bosses office. Knocking on the door, you waited until you heard a quiet ‘come in’ from the other side.

Opening the door, you stepped into the office, closing the door softly behind you.

“Hi, I was wondering if I could leave early? I’m umm… not feeling well.” You stared at the ground, not wanting to look at your boss.

Your boss considered your plea for a moment, staring you down with narrowed eyes. Finally they replied, “sure.”

You thanked your boss and made to leave, but not before hearing their voice in your head.

“Don’t bother coming back. Should have fired you long ago.”

You quickly made your way out of the office and took off. You wanted to get out of the building as quickly as possible. You fled toward the train, bumping into those around you, their voices loud and clear in your head. You kept running until you got to the train, boarding the car and sitting down.

You tried to hold the tears, today being too much for you. You decided to quit your job, resolving to find another one to avoid having to hear people’s thoughts, maybe something like working from home. No one wanted to talk with you, no one enjoyed your presence. You needed to speak with Jisung, beg him to take back the last two wishes. You were in no way happy, the second wish backfiring as well. He has to be able to have that ability right?

Once you got home, you set your stuff down and sat on the couch, finally letting the tears fall. You sat and cried for who knows how long until the tears ran out. You felt numb, you mind too exhausted to function at the moment. You wiped your face and took a deep breath. Your hands were shaking, as you regulated your breathing.

Finally, you got up from the couch, your legs feeling heavy as you dragged your feet to where the vessel was. With trembling hands you grabbed the object and rubbed the side. Setting it down, you watched with dead eyes as Jisung materialized.

“Ready for your third wish?” He asked, arms crossed.

You shook your head, closing your eyes for a moment. With a shaky breath you asked, “Can you take back the last two wishes? Please please take them back!” you pleaded, your eyes wide.

“No can do. Once you make a wish, you can’t reverse it.”

You let out a wail, sinking to your knees.

No!

You wouldn’t accept his words. He has to take the wishes back. You can’t live like this. You put your head in your hands and cried, sobs wrecking your frame, your body shaking with each wail.

You heard Jisung clear his throat. You looked up, hope in your eyes that he was about to say ‘just kidding, of course I can take back the wishes.’ However, you hopes were gone with the next words out of his mouth.

“You have a third wish ya know.”

You pondered his words. It is true, you do have a third wish. However, you have to think carefully, choose your words carefully. This was going to be your final wish after all.

You didn’t want to go out, the silence of your own home comforting. You could work from home. You would be lonely sure, but it’s not the end of the world, unless…

You paused in thought. This could work, you could have company, no problem. With confidence, you looked up at Jisung and made your final wish.

“I wish for you to stay with me.”

Jisung looked at you before a slow smile spread on his face.

“Consider it done.”

You watched as he disappeared once more before slowly materializing in front of you. This time his frame was more solid and he had legs. He was very handsome in human form, his slender frame and muscular arms on display. His hair framed his face, his brown eyes round and big paired with chubby cheeks.

You both stared at each other for what felt like a long time before you broke the silence.

“You’re here, in the flesh. And you’ll stay here with me really?”

“Yes, that is what you wished right?”

You shook your head yes. You gestured for him to follow you to the couch. “Wanna watch tv?” You asked timidly.

Jisung shrugged and sat down next to you. You both sat in silence watching the comedy on screen. You felt comfortable and at peace for the first time in days. There were no voices to be heard, as no one was around besides JIsung. You figured you’d have a lifetime to get to know each other.

As night descended upon the city, you felt your eyes droop, feeling exhausted after the day you had. You drifted off to sleep, Jisung sitting next to you still. It didn’t take long for you to fall into a deep sleep.

Jisung looked at your sleeping form. He felt bad for you. He knew you had a tough week due to your wishes. He felt bad yes, but only to a certain extent. He quietly got up from the couch and made his way to the kitchen. He carefully looked at the selection of kitchen knives you owned, before picking a long butcher knife.

He made his way back to you, standing over your sleeping form. There was a reason why he was in that vessel. It was as divine punishment for his involvement of the murder of two other people, they following in your footsteps too with the whole wish thing.

You trusted him so easily and here you were a moment from death. He felt no remorse as he felt like this was his calling. He’s done it twice before anyway. He feels like he would be doing you a favor, the wishes not working out to your advantage.

He’s noticed people always wish for the same thing, happiness, money, love, not realizing the consequences of what seems like the perfect offer. Jisung thinks people should be grateful for what they have. He knows he would if he lived the life of his previous victims and even yours. You had everything he didn’t, a job, stability, friends. He lost it all and now he’s succumbed to his fate.

With a breath he looked at your sleeping form once more, before completing the task he was put on this earth to do. After all, if you’re going to make wishes to a divine stranger, you better consider the consequences.

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @seungfl0wer @velvetmoonlght

[steventhusiast]

STWG prompt 17/4/24

prompt: "oops, that wasn't the plan"

pairing/character(s): steddie

. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Steve's in the middle of squinting as he scans a library shelf for the textbook he needs when he gets rudely interrupted. A body crashes into him with nearly enough force to knock him over, and he only just manages to catch himself on the library shelves in front of him (with only a few casualties in the form of fallen books).

"Oops!" He hears from right behind him, way too loud for where they are. Sure, they're not in the silent study area, but it's still a library. Sudden noises are pretty noticeable.

Once he's recovered, he looks around the university library to see a few people's unimpressed eyes looking in his direction from their study desks. He feels heat rise from his chest to his cheeks at their attention, and suddenly flustered anger is coursing through him, because-

"What the hell?" He whisper yells, spinning around to face whoever had bumped into him.

He's about to start whisper yelling some more at whoever caused this, but then he sees who's stood in front of him, and- shit. He's hot.

Bright red, and with black curly hair up in a messy ponytail stands a guy around his height, with an expression Steve can only describe as mortification on his face. He's dressed in the student go-to late-night library session attire (university branded hoodie, sweatpants and shoes that are somewhere between slippers and clogs), and he's clutching something in one hand as he stares wide-eyed at Steve.

They stare at each other for a moment, and just as Steve's starting to get a little uncomfortable with it and opens his mouth to, once again, ask what the hell, the guy opens his own mouth and rushes out some hushed words.

"That wasn't the plan, I swear." He says nonsensically, and Steve just frowns at him.

"I'm sorry?"

"I'm doing this all wrong." The guy mutters to himself, and suddenly crouches down to pick up the books that had fallen off the shelf.

He seems to use the time facing the ground to collect himself, because once he's stood upright again with the pile of books held in front of him he offers Steve a shy smile.

"My name's Eddie, and you are, just... so attractive and I've been wanting to come and talk to you for, like, an hour, and maybe give you my number? But then, I'm a total clutz, so- so I tripped and almost knocked you over instead. I am so sorry about that, by the way." His nerves seem to come back as he talks, because Steve notices his fingers tap anxiously at the bottom of the book-pile.

Steve's a little stunned by the onslaught of words, and must take too long to respond because Eddie winces after a moment and shakes his head as he averts his eyes.

"This was stupid. I'm so sorry for interrupting your night, you're probably cramming for a test or something." Eddie offers him a wounded smile this time, glancing at his face again, and then makes to turn and walk away.

"Wait- no. You can- um. I would love your number. Sorry, you caught me off guard." Steve says quietly, and Eddie stops moving, eyes going wide again. God, his eyes remind Steve of Bambi.

Steve takes a deep breath and tries to find the charisma he swears he usually has when he's not ambushed with an unexpected hot man.

"I mean, how else will I know how to contact you when I sue you for damages?"

He says it with a smile and a teasing eyebrow raise, but Eddie looks panicked at the words, like that's somehow something he's genuinely worried about, so Steve raises the hand he'd caught himself on the shelves with to show off the slightly reddened base of his palm.

"I'm mortally injured over here, I hope you have good insurance."

Finally, Eddie huffs out a surprised laugh, and the smile stays on his face once he quietens. It's a very pretty smile, much better than the nervous one he was wearing before.

"Right. Well, luckily for you I have my contact details ready to go for situations like this." He says, and (with a little fumbling to reposition the books he's holding) offers Steve an incredibly crumpled up piece of paper.

Steve unfolds it to find a phone number scrawled out, with a ridiculous drawing of a stick figure holding a landline and a speech bubble saying 'call me!'. He carefully folds up the piece of paper, pointedly pockets it, and offers Eddie another smile.

"Thanks, I will for sure be calling later. I just- I am cramming for a test, you were right. So..." He trails off, a little unsure and awkward again.

Eddie just nods, still grinning, and makes to turn around again.

"I'm looking forward to it." He says, and then walks off, ridiculous tower of books still in his hands. Steve watches him go, and then takes a deep breath and looks back at the shelf.

How the fuck is he going to focus on studying now?

[bri-cheeses]

Jerseys vs. Hoodies - Part 3

| Rosekiller microfic | Word count: 662 | Part 2 can be found here |

-

“Merlin, you two are hopeless,” Regulus mutters under his breath.

Evan goes tense and looks over to see Barty’s reaction, but Barty is much too preoccupied with staring at Evan’s torso. It’s slightly unsettling, to be honest.

“Bee?” he prompts. “What are you looking at?”

Barty’s eyes climb up from Evan’s chest to his eyes, causing Evan to shiver.

“You’re wearing my hoodie,” he says.

Evan breathes in sharply.

“Oh,” he manages, then tries his hardest not to stumble over his words as he blurts, “I can take it off if you want. It was just the closest piece of clothing by my bed—” a blatant lie— “and I didn’t look at it before putting it on—” another lie— “and I’m sorry, I’ll take it off right now and—”

Barty’s hand covering his mouth cuts him off before he can start spiraling.

“It looks good on you,” he says, holding eye contact with Evan, who can feel Barty’s heartbeat against his lips. There’s something deeply intimate about the moment, and Evan doesn’t dare break eye contact as Barty slowly lowers his hand and opens his mouth to say something.

“Merlin,” Reg mutters again, because of course, “take the bedroom eyes somewhere far away from me, please.”

Evan immediately wants to scream at him, because that’s the second time today that Reg has ruined one of Evan’s moments with Barty. But the damage has been done, and he can feel the shift in energy before Barty even says anything.

“I mean, we can if Evan wants to.” Barty grins wolfishly up at Evan, eyeing him in a way that’s downright sinful. Evan tries not to feel too disappointed at the change in topic. After all, this is exactly what he had signed up for.

“Not today, Bee,” Evan murmurs as he turns back to his work. It might just be the hardest he’s ever had to try to focus on schoolwork. “I need to finish this essay.”

There’s a beat of silence as Evan scans through his previous work in an effort to resume his earlier train of thought, Barty a tempting distraction to his left. Barty tends to have this effect on him. Especially when he looks at Evan like he wants to drag him to the dorm and not let him come down for a good long while.

“Barty’s feeling neglected, Evan,” Regulus proclaims, breaking the silence.

Evan can’t help it. He looks over to the boy beside him, and sure enough, Barty’s gone back to pouting. Seriously, he needs to stop with this whole “wanting Evan’s attention” thing, or Evan’s going to get the wrong idea.

Evan aims his next words at Regulus, because it’s just easier.

“Tell him to get over it,” he says.

“He says to get over it,” Reg parrots, and Barty glares at him with enough force to make a weaker man wither.

But Regulus just blinks calmly and dips his quill into his ink pot, then writes his name on his essay with a flourish.

“Done,” he pronounces. “Now, I’m going to go get some dinner. Have fun and please don’t burn the library down.”

“Reg, we still have another twenty-ish minutes until dinner starts,” Barty points out, very obviously ignoring that last barb.

“He’s going to see Potter,” Evan stage-whispers. Barty snickers as Regulus’s face goes red.

“You know,” Regulus begins, narrowing his eyes at them, “before you said that I almost felt bad about leaving the two of you here alone together, considering everything going on between you, but now I’m actually pretty interested to see how this all plays out. Have fun dancing around each other like always,” he finishes, gathering his stuff.

Barty and Evan are both stunned into silence as Reg stands up and begins to walk away.

Only Barty recovers in time to call after him as he leaves, “Nice jersey, Reg,” and Evan groans because now is most definitely not the time.

Regulus simply gives them the finger in response, then disappears around the corner.

-

(Part 4 will be coming out on Saturday)

[nomsfaultau]

Philza Malewife Competition Round 9

Previous rounds: Cleaning. Cooking. Decorating. Karens. Sick Day. Eggs. Hugs. Venting. Current points: The Lambs Wolves Wear (2), Lighting Lanterns (1), Weight in Gold (2), Fault (2), everyone else (0). And an honorary point to qsmp for a guest appearance.

For a quick synopsis for the fics I’m referencing- those are here

Next round: Handy man! Broke a Samsung Smart Fridge? Giant magical explosion? No problem! These Phils are on the job, dedicating their experience and skills to crafting, repairing, and home improvement!

GOLDEN APPLES (Gilded Atrophy): Well this Philza did repair all of L'Manburg after withers, tnt, and however many wars occurred. If he could patch up a crater, he can fix just about anything. This includes lovely walkways and infrastructure, beautiful residencies for the refugees of the nation, stunning air balloon lanterns, and overall just the prettiest town ever seen on the server. It's all developed from his centuries of knowledge, though might be a little slow since he's building it all by hand while his wings are recovering from the blast damage. If he can fix a country, he can fix anything. Also patches up creeper holes <3

The LAMBS Wolves Wear: He lives in an old house (built by his great great grandparents) and is used to fixing things up by hand. Doesn't have much in the way of materials, but can chop down trees or make rudimentary replacements. And given "Tommy" keeps destroying the house, he's putting those skills to use....or would, if "Wilbur" isn't refusing to let him, insisting on plastering illusions to 'fix' everything. So, now it's broken, and you can't tell it is until it's too late.

MANDATORY FAMILY REUNION: Hahahahhah......he has a check for 200k to make this go away..?

Where do BABIES come from?: "Heyyyy Dad? Could you swing by, I think my fridge is broken. And the shower, and backdoor, and- DID YOU START A FIRE IN THE WASTE BASKET?! Sorry, I- oh yeah, I have news about new...roommates?" Essentially, this dude just got out of college, does not have money for a repair person, and is replying on his own dad to dad for him. Also forgot to tell his family he now has...four kids? And counting?? So that'll be fun....

LIGHTING LANTERNS to Bring You Home: "Mmm I'm reading. Technoblade I humbly fall in supplication in need of your godly power blah blah fix it for me. "HAEH?! Your words fall upon closed ears for I am a god of Work, not of lazying about!" "Fascinating. I did not realize you were incapable." "NAY! VERILY I AM THE MOST CAPABLE!" "uh huh prove it. Do I win the tournament now?"

Worth far more than you WEIGHT IN GOLD: He has made a very fluffy nest! (this is all he is capable of building). Like technically he can use rudimentary tools...but that's kinda it.

LORD what fools these mortals be!: Poof. He conjures up the finest of new rooms. The ceiling is infinitely high and sparkles with constellations. There are floating steps and magic candles and waterfalls for bed curtains and jewel trees and just about any magic you can imagine. Doesn't show much hard work, though.

FAULT: Philza reveals a lot of craftiness and resourcefulness within Fault. He is shown carving a reed based woodwind instrument for Wilbur, tanning rabbit hide and creating sinew thread for a dagger sheath, contributing metallurgy abilities to the crafting of Tubbos' prosthetic legs, and constructing fairly serviceable tarp tens for everyone while on the run. Has lots of experience from building houses, crazy knowledge for all sorts of time period based skills, trades, architecture trends, etc. However doesn't currently particularly have a house to do home repair in.

I thiiiiink next round will be the Maid Outfit round but that will take a bit because I’m planning full drawings for each one.

[lucifersgirl]

Hi, I absolutely love your work! Can I make a request to have Lucifer x fem!reader have a "love at first sight" type moment where Lucifer reluctantly attends a party one of Ozzie's Clubs where he's sad/bored while sitting at the bar but suddenly hears the fem reader singing beautifully on stage they both see each other and instantly fall in love and with a little help from Ozzie they both talk, confess feelings, then have some backstage "fun".😘🔞

Backstage fun got me laughing 😂 Love it!! Hope this meets your standards :) Enjoy, loves!

Backstage

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️ - THIS WRITING CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT. SMUT BELOW. MDNI.

————————

“Oh, come ooon, Lucifer! You haven’t been out of that penthouse of yours for years!” Asmodeus groaned into the speaker.

Lucifer rubbed his temple. “I know, I know…” he replied, rolling his eyes.

“Come on, Luce! Just once? Please?”

Lucifer could practically hear Asmodeus’s puppy eyes through the phone. “Ugh, fine,” he finally agreed, throwing his hand up in the air.

“You won’t regret it, Luci! I promise!” Asmodeus smiled.

“Yeah, yeah. Alright. I’ll see you tonight,” Lucifer said, immediately regretting giving in to Asmodeus’s invite. He hung up and groaned before flopping onto his bed. He was going to Ozzie’s that night, whether he liked it or not.

————————

Lucifer closed his eyeshadow palette, straightened his hat and grabbed his staff from the corner of the vanity. He looked in the mirror. “You can do this,” he told himself. “It’s just for one night. It’ll be fine.” He backed away from the table and snapped his fingers. He teleported to the Lust Ring and started his walk to Ozzie’s. “Oof!” He grunted as he felt something run into him. He looked to the side to see a demon running away. “What the fuck, douchebag?” Lucifer shouted.

“Sorry not sorry, shorty!” the demon called out.

Lucifer furrowed his brows. “EXCUSE ME?” he yelled, horns and wings sprouting.

“Luci!” Asmodeus greeted, taking Lucifer’s hand and guiding him towards the club. “How have you been, babe? I haven’t heard from you in, what, seven years now?”

“Almost eight,” Lucifer grumbled, ripping his hand from Asmodeus’s grasp.

“Riiiiight…” Asmodeus replied, looking concernedly at his friend. “You should get out of that castle more often, doll.”

————————

Lucifer sipped his red wine, looking around at the other guests around him. Three demons had already asked him for his autograph. He swirled his glass and looked up at the stage, rolling his eyes in sheer boredom.

“Aaaaaalrighty, folks! Our next act of the anight is one of our regulars here. Give it up for the hot, the sexy, the one and only ______!” Fizzaroli bowed and bounced off of the stage.

Your plutonian dress perfectly complemented your rose lipstick. You sang so beautifully, too (even if the lyrics were shitty).

Lucifer choked on his wine when he saw you. Once he recovered, he stared at you, jaw dropped in awe. His heart pounded harshly in his chest.

You noticed his stare and smiled at him, your own heartbeat increasing in speed. You continued to sing, occasionally glancing at the starstruck man. Your song came to a close and the crowd erupted into applause. You bowed, winked at Lucifer and walked off stage.

————————

The show was finally over. The loud singing and overwhelming noise from the guests was over. Lucifer got up from his table, signed a few more autographs for the sinners and started to walk out of the club.

“Wait!” A voice called out.

Lucifer turned around. He blushed when he saw that it was you waving at him.

“You’re Lucifer, right? The king of Hell? It’s so nice to meet you!” You smiled brightly.

“Yep, that’s me! It’s, uh, nice to meet you, too,” he smiled up at you, his teeth glinting in the light. “You look absolutely stunning tonight.”

You laughed warmly. “Look who’s talking,” you replied. You looked happily into his eyes. “Hey, why don’t we go somewhere a bit more quiet?”

Lucifer, feeling tipsy from the three glasses of wine he had downed in the past two hours, smiled devilishly. “Why not, love?” He whispered.

You giggled and linked arms with him, pulling him to your dressing room. When you reached it, you felt Lucifer tug you into the room. You smiled once again and locked the door behind you.

Lucifer’s lips were on yours in no time, pulling you in like a fishing pole pulls in a catfish. He bucked his hips up, already painfully hard.

“Needy already?” you teased in between kisses.

He pulled away, his eyes darting to the floor. “It’s just… it’s been so long…” he whispered, his hands moving from your face to your hips.

You cupped his cheeks in your hands. “It’s alright, Lucifer. We’ll take it slow, yeah?”

He nodded shyly, his eyes still on the floor.

You tilted his head up with your hands and placed a soft kiss on his forehead. “Are you okay? Do you want to keep going?”

Lucifer nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I wanna keep going. I-I just don’t wanna let you down.”

You laughed again. “Honey, we just met! How could you let me down? Just let me take care of you, hmm? Would that be okay?”

Lucifer cracked a smile and nodded again. “Can I, uh, do something with you first?”

It was your turn to nod. You led him to the bed, gently kissing Lucifer as he laid down. “Alright, love. What would you like to do to me?”

He blushed and his hands rushed to your hips. “Up,” he whispered, pulling your waist above his face.

You giggled. “Okay, okay! I’m going!” You positioned yourself so that your hips were right above Lucifer’s mouth.

Lucifer gulped before using his finger to pull your panties to the side. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he said before licking a stripe up your cunt.

You moaned, grinding against his mouth to gain more friction. “Hell, baby, you’re good at this,” you gasped as he expertly sucked on your clit. His tongue prodded at your hole, making you yelp out in pleasure. His tongue explored your insides, making your eyes roll back. “I-I’m gonna cum, L-Lucifer!” You cried as you clenched around his tongue. You moaned as you rode out your orgasm. When you got down from your high, you smiled down at him. “God, you’re good at that.”

He smirked. “I know,” he said, licking the remnants of your juices from his face. His purple eyeshadow was smudged from the weight of your thighs.

You kissed him softly, tasting a hint of yourself in his mouth. Your hands traveled down his body, finally reaching the hem of his pants. You slowly reached your hand into his underwear, gently tracing along the sides of his dick.

Lucifer hissed. He was hard, painfully so, and your teasing wasn’t helping. “J-just fucking touch me,” he whined, not holding back any longer.

“So you are needy,” you continued to tease him. You jerked your hand up and down his cock at a fast pace when Lucifer gave you a look of annoyance.

The annoyance on his face melted into an expression of pure pleasure. His eyebrows furrowed and his hands clutched the bedsheets, desperately trying to ground himself. He was already close. “I-I’m-AH-so s-sorry! AHM!” he cried before he came all over your hand, moaning as white spurts squirted from his cock. He breathed quickly, trying to catch his breath. When he looked at you, there were slight tears in his eyes. “Did I disappoint you?” He asked, the tears starting to fall.

You wiped away the droplets with your finger. “Don’t cry, my love. It’s okay. You didn’t disappoint me, honey. It’s alright now,” you comforted him, kissing his forehead lovingly. “How do you feel?” You asked after the tears had passed.

“G-good. That was good,” he replied.

“Do you want to keep going?” You asked, running your fingers through his light hair.

“I-I wanna keep going. But just one more round, if that’s okay,” Lucifer added.

“Sensitive?” You teased.

He groaned and flipped over onto his side. “Don’t even.”

You laughed and pulled him towards you. “Now how am I supposed to sit on your cock if you’re on your side, lover?”

Lucifer’s dick twitched at your words. “Fucking Hell, woman. You’re making me go insane.”

You gripped his hips and forced him to your side. “That’s the whole point, sweetie.” Your hands traveled down his chest before suddenly grasping his cock tightly in your fist.

Lucifer’s face contorted in a mix of pain and pleasure. His eyes narrowed as he recovered. “Not nice,” he scolded you.

“Aw, poor baby,” you said, patting his head. You took out a condom and slipped it over his length. Slowly, you moved down his body, hovering over his cock. You took him in your hand, moving his tip to your pussy. “Say please.”

“Fuck, darling,” he whimpered, “please!”

You slid his tip into your waiting hole, gasping just a bit at the stretch. You got adjusted and pushed his cock into you all at once, taking all of him in. You hissed in pain, but it was worth it to see the look on Lucifer’s face.

He let out a shrill scream as you engulfed his dick. He was a blubbering mess beneath you; his eyes had filled with tears again as you clenched so deliciously around his length, his breathing was labored and his eyeshadow was even more smudged. He glanced at you through his wet lashes. “M-move…ple-ANGH!” He cried as you bounced on his cock rapidly.

You whined as his member hit your g-spot repeatedly, making you squirm in delight and pleasure. “C-cumming, Lucifer! Oh, GOD!” You moaned, your eyes rolling back into your head as your came.

“C-close! Oh, FUCK!” Lucifer yelped as his second orgasm rippled through him, his warm cum painting your insides white.

When the two of you had come down from your highs, collapsed next to Lucifer on the bed.

“That was amazing,” Lucifer said in between gasps of air. “We should do that more often.”

“Agreed,” you nodded, also breathing hard.

“D-do you have a shower here?” Lucifer asked. “Maybe we could cool off there.”

You laughed happily. “Yeah, I do. It’s right there. But let’s get this off of you before we go, yeah?” You said, gently tugging the full condom off of his dick.

“Thank you,” Lucifer sighed. “And I mean for everything. Tonight was better than every night since Lilith left. I really, really appreciate it.”

“Anytime, handsome,” you smiled, pressing a light kiss to Lucifer’s left cheek. “Now, about that shower…”

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