#something ranging between disappointed to mad

[victorian-writez]

Drunk??? Me???

Tommy Shelby x Wife!Reader [Peaky Blinders M.S]

The Shelby house was quiet.

Too quiet, considering you were supposed to be home two hours ago from your girls' night out.

Tommy sat in his leather chair, whiskey untouched in his glass, cigarette burning low between his fingers. He wasn’t worried—not really. You weren’t reckless, and the bar you went to was owned by Arthur. Still, the unease in his gut didn’t ease until the front door clicked open.

“Darling, I’m home!”

Your voice rang through the hall, far louder than necessary. Tommy stood, his jaw ticking as he moved toward you.

You were leaning against the wall, trying to toe off one heel, the other already abandoned halfway across the floor. Mascara slightly smudged, lipstick kissed off, hair a little mussed. And grinning like a fool.

“There she is,” Tommy murmured, catching you just as you wobbled forward. “The ghost of gin and bad decisions.”

You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck with more force than finesse. “Tommy, love of my life, you’ve got two heads. When’d that happen?”

“You’re fuckin' pissed.”

“Who, me?” You hiccuped. “Absolutely. Gloriously. Marvellously.”

Tommy sighed, sliding his hands to your waist to steady you. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

“Wait!” You slapped your palm to his chest dramatically. “Did you miss me?”

He raised a brow. “You were gone for four hours.”

“That’s practically forever in marriage time, Mr. Shelby.”

“You reek of whiskey and trouble.”

“And you,” you whispered, poking his nose, “reek of brooding and disappointment.”

That earned a low chuckle. “Come on.”

He scooped you up—heels, purse, and all—despite your surprised squeal.

“Tommy! I’m a grown woman!”

“A grown woman who can’t walk straight,” he replied, carrying you up the stairs like it was nothing.

You nestled your head into the crook of his neck. “You’re strong. Like, stupidly strong. It’s hot.”

Tommy let out a small huff, trying not to smile. You always got talkative when drunk—sweet, unfiltered, messy. He both loved and hated it. Loved it because he got to see the softest corners of you. Hated it because something in him always felt like he didn’t deserve it.

Once in your shared bedroom, he sat you gently on the bed and knelt to unbuckle your shoes.

You swayed forward, fingers burying in his hair. “Tommy?”

“Hm?”

“You know I love you, right? Like… stupid, stupidly in love with you. I’d punch anyone in the throat who looked at you funny.”

“I know.” He looked up, eyes softer now. “You tell me every time you drink.”

“Well, then you should really believe it,” you said seriously.

He tugged your dress off gently, replacing it with one of his shirts, letting it fall to your thighs. You flopped onto the pillows with a sigh of contentment.

Tommy turned off the lights, slid in beside you, and pulled you to his chest.

“Thanks for not being mad,” you mumbled into him.

“I’m not mad,” he whispered into your hair. “Just glad you’re home.”

A pause.

“I brought you a sausage roll,” you murmured. “It’s in my purse. It’s probably squished.”

He laughed—actually laughed—and kissed your forehead.

“My girl,” he said quietly. “Drunk, messy, but always thinking of me.”

You fell asleep with a smile on your lips, his arms around you, and the softest man in Birmingham tucking the blankets around your body like you were made of glass.

[saraaisfree]

Hi, I seen your thinking of writing 🙂 and I wanted to send in a suggestion. A friend's to lovers troupe could be cute and he doesn't admit his feelings for the reader bc they are in a relationship but when the reader goes through a breakup, he comes over and comforts them and they end up talking where he confesses his feelings. Just an idea, feel free to write whatever! Can't wait to read it 🤍❤️💙

𝖸𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝖨’𝗅𝗅 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 || Kwon Ji-Yong/G-Dragon

Summary: After a bad break-up your bestfriend comes over to help you feel better. While emotions are high confessions are made.

(thank you for this suggestion i hope you will enjoy this)

G-Dragon, or as you've always known him, Kwon Ji-Yong, has been your best friend for as long as you can remember. From sharing lunches in kindergarten to late nights helping him write lyrics for his songs, the two of you have been inseparable. Even after his group hit it big, he never left you behind, always trying his best to be there for you no matter what happened.

It was a simple night alone in your apartment. You were waiting for Ji-Yong to finish his dance rehearsal, as you had a movie night planned together. While preparing something to eat, your phone pinged with a message:

“Hey Y/N, I don’t think this is working between us anymore, and quite frankly, I don’t want it to. Also, I found someone else.”

The text came as a shock. You and your boyfriend had been dating for almost a year, and everything seemed to be going so well. You were even considering moving in together soon.

Slowly, you made your way to the couch and began crying softly. Picking up your phone, you texted Ji-Yong: “I think we should cancel tonight. I’m not feeling very well, and I don’t want you to get sick.” It was obviously a lie—you just wanted to be alone.

“Hey, that’s never been a problem before. Did something happen?”

You read his reply but chose not to respond.

Half an hour later, your doorbell rang. Curious, you went to see who it was. There he stood—your best friend—with two takeout bags in his hands and a sad smile on his face.

“Can I please come in? You’ve never canceled on me just because you’re sick. I’m worried about you.”

You knew you couldn’t say no to him, so you let him in. After setting the bags on the table, he joined you on the couch.

“Tell me what happened, Y/N. Please,” he urged.

You didn’t respond verbally; instead, you showed him the text message. He read it a few times, his face darkening. Without saying a word, he wrapped you in his arms.

“He was a dickhead anyway,” he said, a slight edge of anger in his voice. “He didn’t deserve you at all.”

Ji-Yong had always known he liked you—no, he loved you. But by the time he felt ready to say anything, you had already grown too comfortable with him, and he was terrified of ruining your friendship.

He never liked your boyfriends, no matter how much he tried to seem supportive. The idea of another man hugging you, kissing you, waking up next to you—it tore him apart. He wanted to tell you how he felt, to shout it to the world, but he held himself back, afraid.

“I’m really disappointed, but not surprised,” you said softly. “He always said things like that when he was mad, but this? This seems final. I guess you’re right, Ji.” You leaned into him, cuddling closer.

Hearing you call him “Ji” made his heart race. The way it fell from your lips felt like a drug. He wanted to hear it every single day.

“You know I’m here for you, right? Always.”

“I know. Thank you.”

As you finally settled down and drifted off to sleep, Ji-Yong kissed your forehead and fell asleep beside you.

The next morning, you stirred awake in his arms. He pulled you back instinctively. “No, don’t leave yet,” he mumbled, still half asleep, before realizing what he’d said. “Oh, um, I’m sorry about that.”

You smiled. The two of you had cuddled a lot as kids, but as teenagers, it became a rare occurrence. It felt nice to be in his arms again.

“Y/N,” he began hesitantly, “I need to tell you something, and it’s really important. I… I really like you. I always have. If the feeling isn’t mutual, we can pretend I never said anything, but I can’t sit around watching you get hurt by guys who don’t deserve you. It kills me to see you like this. I just… I want a chance to treat you right, to show you that love doesn’t have to be this hard—”

You interrupted him by pressing your lips to his, then resting your forehead against his. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for you to say that” you whispered.

Without hesitation, he pulled you into a passionate kiss, his tongue exploring yours with a hunger he’d suppressed for years.

“I love you so much, L/N Y/N. I always have.”

“I love you too, Kwon Ji-Yong,” you replied.

———————————————————————-

Yooo! First ever fic!! I hope you all like it!!

[sturniololuvz]

I want something long, angsty, y/n fighting with her brother(s), do what you want with this you're so talented 😻😻

thank youuuu! hope u likeeeee🩷 this one is a really good angst i feel!!!!!

“Fractured Ties”

Sturniolos x sister

Y/N slammed the front door behind her, the sound echoing through the house. Her heart was racing, her fists clenched so tight her nails dug into her palms. She felt like she was on fire—like every nerve in her body was lit up with anger.

“Are you fucking serious right now, Y/N?” Nick’s voice rang from the living room, sharp and angry. “What the hell was that?”

She spun around, glaring at him as he stormed toward her, followed closely by Matt and Chris. Their expressions were a mix of frustration and disappointment, which only made the rage inside her burn hotter.

“You guys don’t get to be mad at me,” Y/N spat, her voice shaking. “Not when you’re the ones treating me like a goddamn child.”

Chris scoffed, crossing his arms. “Because you’re acting like one!”

Y/N felt her chest tighten, the weight of his words hitting harder than she wanted them to. “Fuck you, Chris. Seriously.”

“Oh, real mature,” Matt muttered, rubbing a hand down his face. “We’re trying to look out for you, and you’re just throwing a tantrum like a five-year-old.”

Her stomach twisted at that, a lump forming in her throat. She hated this. Hated fighting with them. Hated that no matter what she did, they never seemed to see her as anything other than their little sister—someone to protect, someone to control.

“I don’t need you to fucking look out for me all the time!” she yelled, her voice cracking. “I’m not some helpless kid who needs her big brothers breathing down her neck every second of the day!”

Nick let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Oh yeah? So sneaking out in the middle of the night isn’t stupid as fuck? Putting yourself in a situation where anything could’ve happened—where anyone could’ve taken advantage of you?”

Y/N clenched her jaw, her nails biting into her skin. “I wasn’t alone—”

“Oh, right, you were with that guy,” Chris cut in, his voice dripping with venom. “The same one we told you was a piece of shit. But no, you don’t listen, because we’re just the overprotective, annoying big brothers, right?”

Her breath caught in her throat. Her anger was still boiling, but now there was something else creeping in—something ugly, something sharp.

“He was different with me,” she muttered, hating how small her voice sounded.

Nick ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “No, Y/N, he wasn’t. You just didn’t want to fucking see it.”

Silence fell between them, thick and suffocating. She could feel their eyes on her, feel the weight of their disappointment pressing down on her chest like a boulder.

Matt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’re not trying to ruin your life, Y/N. We just—”

“Then stop fucking treating me like I’m stupid,” she snapped, tears stinging her eyes. “Like I don’t know what I’m doing, like I can’t make my own choices.”

Chris stepped forward, his jaw tight. “When your choices are dangerous, when they could fucking hurt you, we’re always going to step in. That’s never gonna change.”

Her chest ached, the lump in her throat growing bigger. “I hate you guys,” she whispered, even though it was a lie.

Chris flinched, his face falling for just a second before he masked it with anger.

Nick just shook his head, his expression blank. “Yeah? Well, right now, you’re making it really fucking hard for us to like you too.”

That one stung.

Y/N felt her breath hitch, her vision blurring. The walls of the house suddenly felt too tight, too suffocating. She needed to get out.

So she did.

She turned on her heel, shoving past them as she ran up the stairs, slamming her bedroom door behind her.

And then, finally, she let the tears fall.

—

The days that followed were miserable.

She avoided them at all costs, barely coming out of her room unless she had to. Meals were eaten in silence, the tension thick enough to choke on.

Chris was the angriest. He barely looked at her, and when he did, it was with cold, exhausted eyes.

Nick didn’t try to talk to her, either. He was quieter than usual, his usual teasing remarks completely gone.

And Matt? He just seemed sad. Like he was tired of the fighting, but he didn’t know how to fix it.

She hated it.

She hated the way the house felt without their stupid bickering, without their laughter, without the warmth that had always been there.

She hated that she had made them hate her.

And the worst part?

She hated herself for it too.

[yandere-sins]

A yandere with a darling who is kinda worse than they are but are still into it.....I don't know how unhinged you'd have to be for the yan to be like "Are you ok? Like if you need to talk about it I've put listening devices in the vents but still..."

I didn't want this to go into compliant darling territory or the darling being the yandere for someone else (though I did laugh a lot at the idea of telling the darling that the vents are bugged just in case they need it lol that's a good one). But this somewhat brought me a kind of different idea which you probably didn't intend, but I hope you like it all the same!

Warnings: Yandere, Violence (Descriptive acts of murder, stabbing, punching other people, breaking bones, getting bloody, a lot of blood actually, burying bodies), Sexual Content (Mentioning of non-con, dub-con, taking advantage, doing it in the blood of victims and next to dead bodies), Mentioning of drugs, Mentioning of knives, Patient/Doctor relationships, Murderer/Admirerer relationships, Reader is a serial killer, Yandere captures people for reader to kill, Yandere is also mad but so is reader, Reader doubts yandere's reasons for liking them, Reader is genderneutral but gets lifted into a bridal-style at the end, I once again didn't compile these warnings while writing and editing so I might miss some, sorry :(, Mentioning of wanting to throw up, Reader doesn't actually want to get better, it was different but really fun to write, Long post?, I feel like there are more warnings... but I can't remember anymore, if you made it this far and still want to read it, I hope you enjoy it!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Click

You sighed, holding your head in your hands, arms squeezed between your torso and legs. Your head was throbbing with the headache of the century. One you hadn't had in a long time... like five days. 

"You're a fucking dick, you know that?"

Groaning, you heard your own voice echo through your dizzy brain, nausea building as you felt like you were on a ship, everything moving unsteadily around you. The blinding lights flooding the off-white room didn't help soothe the feeling either, and your whole body kept tensing up, readying itself to throw up. You tried deep breaths, but they barely did anything. Not like they ever did something. You were too far gone for that.

"I did what was necessary," his voice rang out through the speaker in the top left corner, accompanied by the screeching of technical issues. You whined loudly, tearing your hair out as your head felt like it would burst. "My bad," he added, turning down the volume.

"What was it this time? Double the dose, triple? Must you keep drugging me? Some doctor you are..."

"I tried something new," he admitted, a cheeky grin in his voice. 

"Worked great..." you slurred, listening to him chuckle. 

For a while, you gave in to the need to collapse, putting your arm over your eyes to escape the lights while you thought about the last few things you could remember. Therapy was going well... at least that's what you were told. But the nurses—ugh. That one bitch.

"She did it on purpose," you mumbled, hearing the softest of agreement through the speaker. You knew that if it wasn't against regulation, he'd be sitting next to you, brushing your hair out of the way while you'd tell him your woes. He was that kind of sicko. A doctor, yet fascinated with you, his patient. Even though he merely sat behind the cameras, watching you, you could hear the sickening affection he held for only his favorite patient in every one of his words. 

In a way, he wasn't that different from you.

"You beat her up real good, smashed her face in. Got yourself into a frenzy and just tore open all your stitches from your last fight while you were at it, you really..."

He sighed. He was disappointed. Upset. This was a significant setback for him, too, after all. 

"She called me too stupid to ever recover properly and I was trying this time, really! How else should I have reacted?"

"You could have told me."

"And you would have dealt with her how?"

A brief chuckle rang out before he replied, although, had you been less delirious, you wouldn't have needed to ask. You knew what he did to people who behaved poorly with you. "I would have taken care of her, as always. You know you have my unending support."

You couldn't help a smile creeping over your face, the memory of burying the last nurse who bothered you in the asylum's cemetary resurfacing. Digging out the grave had been hard work, but you had to agree with him that the physical labor did wonders to soothe your ever-agitated mind. 

"You're terrible," you mumbled, unable to hide your smile.

"Ah! There it is! Look at those little dimples! I'm glad my services are appreciated by my darling. I was hoping to take you out on a rendevous once the dust settles. Maybe we can do that sooner than I expected."

"Who'd want that, you sicko."

Groaning, you finally sat up, looking down at the cushioned floor while you adjusted to being awake. Standing took a few attempts; the cushions aligned along the wall, not actually graspable, even if they looked like it. Everything about the solitary cell was so safe, it made you feel helpless. But eventually you managed to get to your wobbly feet, sighing in exhaustion once you stood.

"There you go, breaking my heart," he sighed, and you shook your head with a laugh, knowing he didn't mean it. 

"No straight jacket this time?" you asked, raising your arms and, for the first time since you awoke, realizing your movements were unrestraint.

"You weren't in a condition to restrain you. I prioritized your healing over that awful jacket."

"You just don't like it because it does nothing for my figure."

Again, you heard the grin in his voice as he said, "Busted. You're too cute to walk around constrained. Even though I love how crazy you look with it."

"Sicko..." you mumbled, your nickname for your doctor, endearing only in his ears. 

Your limbs were terribly heavy as you moved them towards the door. Part of you wanted to collapse on the ground again; simply pass out where you were. But knowing him, he'd definitely use the opportunity to take advantage of you, especially now that he could get a video of it. 

You didn't always mind what your doctor did to you. In a way, he was helpful even if everything you two did was against any laws in this country. If anyone knew what you two were getting into when no one was looking, you'd both be put down like rabid dogs. But that's just how you two were—feral.

The sicko kept telling you how he'd get you back on track. How he'd "fix" you just enough so you could go home with him. There was no way you'd consider living with him if you ever did get out. Still, he liked to paint the picture whenever he crawled into your bed while on night duty, hugging you and telling you about his ideas. You told him often enough that, given the chance, you'd kill him outside the safety of this institution, but so far... you hadn't.

You had enough chances, enough people he let you murder, watching you while you did it and helping you to hide the bodies once you were satisfied, but you never once turned the knife on him. Maybe it was because of his studies; perhaps he knew more about you than you about yourself. Or it was because he was just as insane. Fucking your patient in the blood of their victims was definitely not normal, even you knew that. So what other reason could he have for it except insanity? 

"Earth to my darling, I repeat: Are you thirsty?"

You felt the heat spread over your face as you felt called out by his question, almost as if he was reading your mind. It wasn't like you two were lovers. There was no chance in hell you'd get together with someone like him—or anyone for that matter. You didn't want the burden of someone clinging to you while you did your dirty work.

But the sex after releasing all your pent-up anger? Out of this world. 

Perhaps his doctorate was in fucking instead of psychiatry, but he knew how to work every part of his body. And he knew just how to get you in the mood, too. An explosive combination, mixing his lust with your madness.

That didn't change much about your feelings for him, though. 

"I'm not," you muttered, trying to hide your face, which probably showed the embarrassment you felt, thinking of the last romp you two had. You tried the deep breaths again, but the thoughts kept popping back into your mind. Must be the drugs, you thought.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course!" 

His excitement was loud and clear as it rang through the microphone, and you weren't sure if you should smile at it or sneer. For some reason, you both held each other in a tight grip, unable to be separated, yet most likely toxic for each other. But he still got excited over any kind of interest you had in him and you about all the things he did so you could live out your best life—even though you were locked away for a reason. 

"Why me?" you asked, standing in front of the door, not looking up. Even if he was just the voice behind a camera at the moment, somehow, this question left a bad taste in your mouth. You didn't want him to see the conflict on your face; didn't want him to know that you were doubting how deserving you were of his favor. It wasn't insecurity, wasn't a need for reassurance, but how could anyone look at you and think, "That's the one!"? You killed people, went into violent rages, and weren't considered safe enough to be reintegrated into society, probably ever again. There was nothing you had to show for yourself. Nothing that could justify the feeling of adoration your own therapist held for you. Especially not he. He should have been one of the good ones. And you weren't. It made no sense to you why he'd behave like he did.

"Why you what?"

"Why do you like me so much? I mean, come on! I mean, look at us! We're batshit crazy! This isn't some romance movie on television, we're actually doing bad shit, and yet you keep shielding me, doing me favors, telling me you love me. I'm sure there are others out there who you can fix and fuck if you like. It's not like..."

Biting your own tongue, you wondered if it was the new drug combo he tried on you that made you feel especially irritated with his feelings that day. You let him do all this stuff to and with you, but now you were getting weirded out by it? It wasn't like you to get so worked up over him; you were more of the cool type, spitting-in-his-face-type if he pissed you off. You didn't even want to validate his feelings for you, but also... being self-aware enough to know you were a danger to humankind, you couldn't shake the feeling he might just be using you for his own sick desires. And that made you angry again. You'd not be a pawn or a means for no one.

Click

"Wow, okay, you bastard." Your grumbling fell on deaf ears as he turned off the microphone. "Sure, I'm going through something here, but by all means, stop listening. Not like it's your job or anything..."

Unprepared, you jolted back as the door to your cell suddenly yanked open, revealing the pitch-black corridor that lay behind. Apparently, it was late at night, but you couldn't focus on that as your doctor appeared from the shadows, a deep frown etched into his beautiful face. He should have been a model. At least that job wouldn't have led him to meet you.

"Do you doubt me?" he asked, stalking forward, undeterred by the open door, not thinking for a second that you'd try to escape. "Do I need a reason to love you for you to believe it?"

He caught your chin between his fingers, tilting your head back as he matched the steps you were taking backward. Soon, you'd run out of space to back into, but perhaps that was his goal. 

"Can't I just love you because the first time you caved in and told me about the things you went through, things just felt... right? Everything just clicked in my head, and I thought, "Wow, I want to see them happy!" Must there be any other reason for me to love you?"

Your back hit the wall just as his eyes lowered to your lips, his thumb reaching up to brush over them. "I dream about those lips. I can't help but think about you no matter where I go. In the evening, I imagine you curled up on the couch next to me; sometimes, I hear your laugh when you aren't even there. I want that picture-perfect life with you, but the moment I step into your room and see you covered in blood, your eyes showing just how far gone you are, it just..."

He looked up again, his eyes swirling with all the emotions he tried to convey in his words. But when he met your gaze, the color drained, leaving behind what you could only describe as pure, unfiltered madness.

"It drives me insane."

His second hand raised to the side of your face. He cupped your cheek in his palm for a moment, a soft smile creeping over his lips. "I like you like this. Docile, calm, sweet. I like it when you ask me things, I like it when you beg for something. I like it when you only let me do things to you. I want to help you, I do! But..."

His hand sliding down, you looked away, trying to catch it before it slipped around your throat, pressing into it, squeezing so hard you felt as if your head was going to detach from your neck.

"I want to ruin you. I want you worse, I want you deranged. I want you to kill everyone and then me, so I'll be the last of your victims, the only one you remember. I want to be ruined by you so badly that every day, I hope you tell me about yet another staff member we get to kill, and then you can use me to satisfy your needs. Can't you understand? This is love. No one will ever love someone like you, but. I. do. I understand you, I care for you. And I will continue to do so, with no other reason than I love you. I love you so much."

You gasped for air at this point, fingers grabbing his arm. It was hard listening to him, but it was harder to breathe. You knew he wouldn't kill you. This was nothing compared to other things you two did to each other. It stung a little when he said no one else would ever love you, but he was right. Not unless the change everyone expected from you was also something you wanted. 

But why would you?

The pressure on your throat disappeared, only for your breath to be stolen by his kiss. You hated this man. You hated him because he was a little bit too much like you. Too unhinged to be likable. And at the same time, he wasn't at all. He was too supportive, too nice, too forgiving. It disgusted you, honestly. Yet, you reciprocated, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. Before he could back off, you caught his cheeks in a squeeze between your fingers to draw him back to lick off the red fluid, reminding him he wasn't the deranged one here. 

"Don't question me again about my feelings, please," he asked, out of breath, too, as he bumped his forehead against yours. "I love you, I really do."

"You're a sicko, you know that? And your beard is stinging me, you should shave."

At this, he laughed out loud, raising his head to the ceiling. "I spent three days waiting for you to wake up. You can deal with some stubble."

"No, I don't like it."

Grinning, he lowered his face to you and gave you another peck on the lips. "It's gone tomorrow, I promise."

"Can I go back to my room now?"

He hummed thoughtfully before shaking his head. "Someone's awaiting their punishment still. You really want to miss out on that?"

Now it was your turn to grin as well. "Aww, you shouldn't have! Are we gonna cut up that bitch now? For real?"

"Anything for you," he mumbled, raising your hand to give it a quick smooch. "But let me change your bandages first. I don't want you to accidentally get sepsis if your wounds are still open."

"Surprisingly, you're still a doctor at heart."

"That's not true," he gasped, feigning indignation about your statement.

"Are you not?" you asked, watching him bend down to pick you up, bridal-style even. You weren't mad since your legs felt even weaker than before, and you really wanted to conserve your energy. 

"I'm afraid it's no longer medicine that has claimed my heart."

He looked at you, smiling softly. "It's all you."

"And I can't help but love you more, realizing I am becoming more like you every day."

[moronkombat]

Hi! Can I request Liu Kang sfw & nsfw headcanons please and thank you 🥺

SFW

He can be rather illusive. You don't often find him. He finds you. It can lead to startling you sometimes. You'll be grabbing something from the shelf and when you turn, there he is. You'll him to stop doing that but he doesn't. He finds it quite funny

Normal dates are difficult as Liu Kang doesn't exactly blend in with the crowd and he doesn't want too much attention on the both of you when spending time together

Liu Kang takes his partner to Wu Shi for romantic outings often. There people know him and won't stare and he gets that privacy he so prefers

Liu Kang is best described as a romantic tease. He knows how to wine and dine but also knows how to play. He's equally skilled in both

When planning dates for his partner, he is very secretive about them, always saying that it will be a surprise. Try your best to get him to crack but he remains tightlipped. He does find it amusing when you try to get him to crack, however

Dates range from simple outings to walking among the stars. He loves to see that wonder sparkle across your eyes as you look around at the spectacle he has brought you too

NSFW

The sex is positively divine yes that pun is intended. Liu Kang is a master at everything he does. I mean everything

You walk into his night and you can practically see the madness in his gaze. He wants you and he wants all of you completely

And he takes all of you. His pleasure and yours melt together throughout the night and your duet is a lovely one

Hands roam your flesh, no part of you goes unexplored. Palms lay on your chest and there is a heat there, one unnatural and you know this God of Fire is inciting this feverish sensation

Liu Kang is extremely fond of utilizing his unearthly abilities on his partner during sex. From just letting the tips of his fingers kiss fire to making love to you in a place in between places, every time you lay with Liu Kang, it is special

He often suggests different positions to try and he does not disappoint in his methods of execution

Prefers receiving oral rather giving but he still enjoys providing to his partner. There is just something so delicious about seeing your mouth take his cock to the hilt, how you gag and cough around it that he simply cannot deny

[whereianonymouslypostfics]

Limbo

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~4.1k

Summary: You and Wanda reach an important step in your relationship

A/N: Simps, the both of them❤️😘😭. Take two, y'all

Warnings: fluff, angst, smut

“It’s really okay. I’m not mad.”

Despite your continued reassurance, Wanda doesn’t quite look convinced. The two of you had been cuddled close in bed, taking advantage of a rare chance to sleep in, when Wanda’s phone rang.

Last night Wanda hadn’t gotten back until 3am. You’d long ago fallen into a fitful sleep when your girlfriend let herself into your apartment, but you’d been thrilled to wake up in her arms. You’d gotten used to falling asleep alone and waking up with Wanda more often than not. As she continued to work hard during the days so she at least had the chance to sleep beside you at night, you were happier than ever.

It was only an hour ago that Wanda promised you the whole morning together. You were free of obligations, and even if you hadn’t been, you’d rearrange anything if it meant you could spend time with Wanda. It was only 9:50 when someone called on your girlfriend, leaving you slightly miffed and wishing you could give them a piece of your mind. Instead, you say nothing as you watch Wanda stand and look around for her clothes. She’s here often enough that she has a few suits in your closet, and you try not to let the fact that she’s using them now serve as another reminder of what you’d wanted to ask her this morning.

You wait until Wanda’s folded her outfit from yesterday before she grabs another and turns toward you with a frown. She needed to leave now but she hated to go back on a promise to you. Despite your insistence, you definitely look disappointed, and seeing this almost makes her want to change her mind. Well that’s not true. She definitely wants to change her mind, but she knows that she can’t. If she does, she’ll just have more to deal with later.

So Wanda sighs inaudibly as she changes quickly and pops into the bathroom to look at herself in the mirror. She stops at the sight of her exhausted expression, and this time she releases an audible sigh before she shakes her head. She’s dressed the part of a mobster with her suit and obscenely expensive watch that she’d left at your place last week. She tugs on the strap a little harder than necessary before fastening it with a frown.

This isn’t what she wants. She hates to leave you alone all of the time. She hates that her work is proving to cause a huge rift between the two of you. She feels like she’s living two separate lives when there’s really only space for one. She can either be the mobster that she sees staring back at her, or she can be Wanda who has a normal life, a loving relationship, and maybe something other than her job to take up all her time.

She shakes her head as she runs a hand through her hair. She can’t think about this right now. She has to stop the inevitable fire fight from breaking out before she has a chance to salvage her winnings. She reminds herself of the profit but even the astronomical number isn’t enough to wipe the frown from her face.

As she walks back into your bedroom, she finds that you’re not there, but the sounds from the adjacent room tell her you’re in the kitchen. She confirms this as she walks through the living room to see you pouring the entire contents of the coffee pot into a thermos for her. You don’t drink any caffeine, but you’d bought the coffee maker and her favorite coffee for whenever she could visit. She feels her heart stutter in her chest at the fact that despite being upset, you’re still taking care of her. It makes her feel even worse about her decision to leave and she’s torn yet again when you turn to face her with a bright, only slightly forced smile.

“Here you go. This should last you the ride there at least.”

You smile cheekily and Wanda rolls her eyes in faux annoyance before she meets you for a quick kiss. She decides it’s not enough and she takes her coffee from you and sets it on the counter before she’s reaching for you again.

“Thank you, Y/n."

You find yourself in Wanda’s arms as she pulls you into a hug and your smile widens as she holds you close to her. You sigh happily before closing your eyes and taking advantage of the few seconds you have left with her before she’s whisked away by work yet again. You hear her sigh, and you’re not surprised when she tightens her hold on you before turning her face so she’s hiding in your hair.

“I hate leaving you, detka. I love our time together.”

Your smile is bittersweet, and you’re glad Wanda can’t see it because you are sure you look pathetic. You hate when Wanda leaves you too, but you know what you signed up for. Well at least you know now, and you’d already told yourself that you can’t walk away from her. You’re not sure you’d be able to live with yourself if you did that.

So instead of saying what you want, and asking Wanda not to leave you again, you just turn so you can kiss the top of her head before letting your arms drop to your sides.

“I know, Wanda. Me too, but I’ll be here when you get back.”

You wonder if Wanda knows how true these words are. You imagine you’re going to spend a lot of your life sitting around and waiting for Wanda, but you’ve decided that the time you spend together is worth it. You know in an ideal world Wanda wouldn’t be off doing who knows what at all hours of the day. She’d have a set schedule and you’d see her every night for dinner before falling asleep in her arms, but that wasn’t the life she lived.

You couldn’t resent her for this no matter how much you felt that you probably should. You can only hope that someday you’ll have more time with her, and maybe you wouldn’t have to wonder when she’d walk through your door again.

Wanda seems to sense the resignation in your response and her face falls momentarily. You feel the need to apologize, but she doesn’t give you a chance before she’s hugging you again.

“I love you. I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay?”

You nod as you pick up Wanda’s coffee because you know that she’s late, before giving her one last kiss.

“Love you too. I’ll see you later.”

Wanda wasn’t back until late which wasn’t a surprise to you at all. You’d spent your day off lounging around and trying to keep yourself distracted. You’d baked and watched some TV, but mostly you read almost three books before you decided to call it a night around 10pm.

You had been optimistic to think that Wanda would be back by midnight, and when 2am rolls around, you’re fast asleep by the time your girlfriend returns.

Before going to bed, you’d read, a romantic, murder mystery by your all-time favorite author, but you’d stopped at a crucial part. The characters were amidst their investigation to find a serial killer, but there was still time for a dramatic rendezvous that had been in the works since the first few pages. You’d wanted to read on but you were so tired that you kept falling asleep as you attempted to read the same sentence 4 times. You’d turned off your tablet before setting it on the other side of the bed with a yawn. You promptly fell asleep but continued to shift and squirm underneath the covers restlessly.

You’d started to read the scene where a tentative kiss turned into a trip to the bedroom, but you hadn’t been in the mood. Reading about two people in love made you miss Wanda and as pathetic as it was, your thoughts kept going to her instead of focusing on the words on the page. You wanted to be with Wanda now, holding her close and kissing her lovingly, but it was just you. You fall asleep with a frown on your face, but the dreams that follow you into sleep don’t take long to wipe this away.

Wanda groans under her breath as she shuts the door quietly behind her. She locks it before checking to make sure that there’s no sound coming from the apartment. You are certainly asleep, but Wanda wanted to be sure before she heads to the guest bathroom to clean up. She flinches as the bright lights blind her on her way to the sink. She’s cringing by the time she reaches for the faucet to wash away the blood on her knuckles. She regrets punching the last person that she did. He had an obnoxiously large nose that almost broke her finger when she’d tried to knock him out.

She wishes that she hadn’t lost her gun because it was much more efficient, and far less painful than what she’d had to resort to. She sighs after she’s cleaned her hands and face of any remaining evidence of her scuffle. She nearly scoffed at the thought of describing the all-out brawl as something so insignificant. She’d known the day was going to hell as soon as someone called to tell her that she wouldn’t be getting the morning, off, and they certainly hadn’t disappointed.

She shuts off the light before taking off her shoes and leaving them by the front door. There’s a small closet that you use mostly to store extra blankets, but you sometimes threw your shoes in there so you didn’t have to look at them. Wanda contemplated doing this, but she didn’t have the energy to bend over and pick them up. Maybe she’ll do it tomorrow if you take notice of them.

Wanda starts to shed her dirty jacket as she reaches out for the door that she assumes you’re sleeping behind. She opens it slowly and turns toward the bed to see that you are definitely asleep. Your hair is splayed across your pillow and you’re curled up on your side with your back to her. She smiles at the sight of you as she shuts and locks the door behind her. She quickly sheds her ruined clothes before grabbing one of the two pairs of shorts and a t-shirt that she’s kept at your place.

She eyes the area of the shelf in your closet that her things have occupied for at least a month. She wonders if she’ll ever have a more permanent place in your apartment, but she quickly disregards the thought as she heads back toward the bed. She’s about to fall over she’s so exhausted, but the second she lifts the covers on the free side of the bed she stops short. She knows how you sometimes read until you fall asleep and your tablet’s been found in many places as a result of you throwing it haphazardly onto the bed. One time it ended up in the bathroom, and that was a mystery that you never solved. To see it beside you under the covers is less surprising, but the sight of the tablet isn’t what gave her pause.

You were hot natured and barely slept with a sheet over you if you could help it. Wanda realized very early that she was the one who would get all of the comforter and the extra blanket when she shared a bed with you. Like her, you slept in shorts and a tank most times, but tonight you must have gotten too hot. Wanda appreciates the lingerie set that you definitely hadn’t been wearing when she left this morning. It’s her favorite on you and she has to stop herself from groaning at the sight of you flushed and barely covered.

“You’re so pretty, detka.”

As Wanda sinks into bed beside you, she can’t help but lean over and kiss your bare shoulder. She watches as you shift slightly and release a whine that makes her stifle another groan. What she’s not prepared for is how your restlessness progresses to something that honestly surprises her.

The hand that had been under your pillow behind your head, moved down toward your chest at the same time that the one by your side drifts to your stomach. Wanda thinks that you’re just going to stretch as you sometimes tend to do in your sleep, but instead your hands continue to drift lower until you’re palming your breast and pressing against your lower stomach.

“Mhmm.”

You mutter something unintelligible under your breath as you continue to shift and touch yourself in a way that’s making Wanda’s pulse spike. She watches wordlessly until your right hand disappears between your legs.

“Y/n.”

Your response is to groan again under your breath, but you don’t stop and Wanda reaches out to grab your hand before it can slide beneath the thin lace.

“Y/n.”

Her borderline pleading tone is what rouses you from your sleep. You hum under your breath before forcing yourself to open your eyes to blink away the image of you and your girlfriend in this very bed. You smile at the sight of Wanda looking a little on edge, and you flip your hand over in hers before squeezing it gently.

“Hey Wands. You’re back.”

Wanda takes a moment to gather her wits as her gaze flits between your face and your joined hands. When she speaks up her voice is hoarse, and you can hear clear as day how desperate she is. Your smile widens and you both watch as you pull Wanda’s hand back to where you’d wanted it much earlier.

“I would have come home sooner if I’d known you were waiting for me like this.”

Wanda watches as your eyes widen and she sees a hint of something she can’t name but it excites her. Her eyes darken and she’s momentarily distracted at the first brush of her fingers between your legs.

“Fuck me.”

You actually laugh at this and Wanda’s cheeks heat up as you lean forward to whisper against her lips. You stop only a breath away from kissing her and you have to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing again at Wanda’s frustrated look.

“I believe that’s my line.”

Wanda doesn’t respond with words but when she kisses you, you’re sure that she’s just as eager as you are. Your dream from earlier had gotten you so frustrated that you'd had no desire to wake up. You’d feared that doing so would mean that you would find that you were alone, and then you’d be stuck to stew in your aroused state. Wanda’s arrival was fortuitous for many reasons. Namely you wanted to have your girlfriend back safe and sound. However, the fact that she was now here to help you relieve your sexual frustration wasn’t something you’d ever complain about. Taking care of yourself had lost its appeal the moment you met Wanda.

You’re certain that touching yourself will never be the same again.

You nearly fly off the bed when Wanda’s cold hands meet your skin. She sits up and straddles you without breaking your kiss, and you can’t help but moan at the feeling of Wanda sitting on your hips. You don’t bother to stop yourself from bucking up against her, and you smile against Wanda’s lips when you hear her groan under her breath.

“Shit, Y/n.”

Wanda can’t deny how turned on she is at the sight of you in your last anniversary present. Her need for you continues to climb with each touch and every sound that you’ve made as her hands roam your body. You’re squirming beneath her and you throw your head back with a breathy curse when her lips leave yours to trail down your neck. You feel like you’re crawling out of your skin, and you’re breathing like you just ran a 5k, but Wanda doesn’t seem to be in a rush which makes you want to scream.

Your hands leave Wanda’s hips and you bury one of them in her hair as gently as possible in your desperate state. Wanda hisses but doesn’t stop kissing you until you tighten your hold on her when she leaves a wet kiss on your collarbone.

“Wanda. I’ve been thinking about this all day. Are you going to keep me waiting?”

Wanda’s torn. She doesn’t know which she’d like to do more. She could drag this out and keep you on edge until you can’t stand it anymore, or she can give in to her near debilitating desire to touch you. Tonight, after the long day that she’s had, her desire to please you both wins out, and Wanda nods against your hand before she mutters against your chest.

“Don’t worry, detka. I’ll take care of you.”

Since Wanda has never failed to do this, you have no reason not to trust her. You sigh in relief as Wanda’s mouth starts to wander again. You gasp when a rush of cold hits you, but it doesn’t last long as Wanda’s mouth descends on your exposed breasts. You squeeze your eyes shut and your back arches as you try and get closer to your girlfriend’s glorious mouth. You curse, bucking your hips as Wanda’s lips close around your stiff nipple. Your hands find Wanda’s back and you try to be mindful of how hard you’re digging your nails into her, but she’s making it exceedingly difficult.  

As Wanda slides down your body, one of her knees settles between your thighs and you release another tortured groan that sends goosebumps across Wanda’s skin.

“Wands, please.”

You must know about the power that you hold over Wanda. The fact that she’s absent often, and happens to disappoint you more than she’d like means that she would do almost anything you asked, if she’s truly able. Short of asking her to hurt you, there’s very little that Wanda would say no to if she thought it would make you happy. She is likely overcompensating for the fact that her job keeps her away, but you haven’t complained yet, and you’re likely aware of how hard it is for your girlfriend to not give into you. You have an equally difficult time saying no to anything that may cause Wanda happiness. If you can manage it and it doesn’t put either of you in danger, you’re going to do whatever she asked of you.

You both were honestly so whipped.

So it’s not really a shock to either of you when only a few seconds later, Wanda’s fingers drag deliciously against the lace that’s just barely a barrier between you two. You miss Wanda’s eyes darkening further as her breath catches at how hot and needy you are for her. She groans when you fail to stifle a moan as you rock against her touch.

“What got you this wet, Y/n? What were you reading?”

Wanda barely remembers the fact that she’d seen your tablet a mere millisecond before noticing your state of undress. She watches with a wicked sense of satisfaction as you continue to try and find some relief before you seem to realize that she’s asked you a question. It takes a few seconds and Wanda pulling her hand away for you to respond. Luckily, she doesn’t go far by the time you shake your head and take a deep, steadying breath.

“No-nothing. I couldn’t focus on that. All I could think about was you.”

If Wanda had gained the upper hand a moment ago, you’d successfully snatched it back with your sincere response. It should be embarrassing how quickly Wanda rips the expensive lingerie to get to you.

You both moan and Wanda doesn’t notice that you’ve pierced her skin as your nails scratch down her back. After a moment of teasing your clit, Wanda steals your breath when she pushes two fingers deep inside you. You try and arch your hips in search of more but Wanda holds you down as she curls her fingers and makes you see stars.

“Oh god. Don’t stop. Please.”

You’re already shaking you’re so close but Wanda doesn’t seem to care about dragging this out any longer. You reach out for her arm that’s holding you still, but you don’t manage to do anything other than hold Wanda so tightly she groans under her breath. She’s a little sore from her shoot out earlier, but she’s not about to tell you that. Instead, she doubles her efforts and brings you closer with each drag of her fingers. You’re struggling to catch your breath as Wanda kisses her way back up to you. She stops for a few seconds to admire your flushed, beautiful face before she decides to be merciful.

“God, I love you.”

When Wanda leaves a bruising kiss on your neck, one you know you’ll have to cover up tomorrow, you nearly lose it. That said, you nearly sob as her thumb circles your clit and you’re thrown over the edge as her fingers press against your g spot. Wanda kisses your jaw as you continue to shudder from the aftershocks of your orgasm. You turn your face so your lips meet Wanda’s and she smiles as she kisses you deeply. She continues to stroke your fluttering walls until you shift and hiss against her lips. She understands and pulls her hand away before kissing you one last time.

There are a hundred things you want to say, and ask because it hadn’t escaped your notice that Wanda has a few new bruises. What leaves your mouth though is what you’d intended to say this morning before Wanda left unexpectedly.

“Move in with me.”

You’re not even sure that you said the words out loud, Wanda didn’t seem to react to them at all. It’s only the feeling of her hand tensing on your thigh that clues you in, and you have to stop yourself from showing your disappointment. Wanda doesn’t seem to realize that you took her lack of a reaction as a bad sign until you sigh and try to sit up. She’d been thinking about how much she loved you and how she never wanted to leave when you spoke up. She didn’t register what you’d said immediately, and then she took a few seconds to consider that she must have been imagining things. There was no way that you’d ask her this. Right?

When you sigh in defeat before starting to get out of bed, Wanda realizes that she hadn’t imagined it and now you must be disappointed in her yet again.

“Okay, never mind.”

Wanda’s shaking her head and reaching out for you before you can get far. She’s apologizing before you even turn back to face her, but she doesn’t let you go anywhere as she kicks herself for making you think that she doesn’t want to be with you as much as possible.

“Wait, I’m sorry. I mean-Are you sure?”

Despite being half out of bed and half naked you manage to shoot Wanda a hurt look that makes her feel even worse. Still, you try to play off your hurt by shrugging casually, but to Wanda the action looks forced.

“Of course, Wanda.”

When Wanda squeezes your hand, you force yourself to meet her gaze and you almost smile at the sight that greets you. Your girlfriend is shooting you an earnest look as she brings your hand to her lips with a small smile. She couldn’t think of anything better than moving in with you. Well at least for now.

“I’d love to. I might need more closet space though.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help but crack a smile at Wanda’s joke. When she sees this, her own smile widens and she leans in to kiss your cheek. She ignores the stiffness in her back and the dull pain that she doesn’t remember feeling when she first got home.

Home.

Wanda smiles at the idea of sharing a home with you. She watches as you slide back toward the middle of the bed before reaching out for her. Your hands drop to her waist before they begin to fiddle with the hem of her t-shirt.

“I’ll get right on that Wands, but first it’s my turn to make you come.”

Masterlist

[spacelatinoluvr]

Forever is the Sweetest Con

‘You were raw. And real. Something Joel hadn’t known for such a long time.’

Prologue

Summary: Finding meaning in a world full of disappointment was something you've always thought was pointless. And even now, after seemingly starting over, you're struggling to find purpose in the quaint town of Jackson. But that was all until saw yourself so clearly in the brother of your best friend, causing you to rethink your life.

Word Count: 1.6k

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Tags: Soft Joel, Grumpy Joel, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Reader is friends with Tommy, Reader was a Firefly

Warnings: Angst

You fucked up.

You can’t remember the last time you had really messed something up that bad. Maybe it was the third grade, when you had accidentally cut your hair into an ugly bob because you got bubble gum stuck in your hair. Your mother chided you, taking away your bike for a month. You were so upset with her that you cut your hair even shorter, making you look like a prepubescent boy.

Or maybe it was in high school when a senior boy grabbed your ass at the prom. You punched him in the face for that, in which you got suspended. Your father took away your car keys for a week before he eventually gave them back, returning them with a mischievous smile on his face as he congratulated you on giving the kid a clean right hook- his eye was adorned a bright purple for a good week.

Or the worst could have been when you-

Tommy rang again, speaking your name, each syllable hard and slow. That’s how you knew he was angry. Tommy never yelled because he didn't have to- his lip would fight to curl upwards, eyes ablaze in a fiery haze, hands wishing to thrash out at something. You decided to look him in the face, a decision out of pure curiosity. But, he didn’t look angry.

He wouldn’t look at you, and you raised your gaze to scan his face, his eyes that were everywhere but at you. His eyes sank a little, tired and pleading for an answer from you. His lips were planted in a downwards stream and his hands rubbed against each other, maybe to calm his nerves. He spoke again, this time softer and quieter with his eyes closed.

“You can’t just leave,” He sharply inhaled through his nose. “Especially without sayin’ anything to anyone. Jesus- we- I thought you'd left for good. What the hell were you thinkin’?”

You swallowed, throat becoming dry and achy; saliva had built its way up into your mouth, and your anxiety threatened to spill past you. Tommy was supposed to be pissed- yelling and screaming at you. But, Tommy has never yelled at you; no matter how mad he got. And somehow, even when he did yell or thrash out, his disappointment made you feel worse.

“Please, just tell me why- let me in to understand,” He opened his eyes to glance at you now, leaning his elbows upon his thighs slowly. He looked up at you, eyes darting between your face and your body. “At least tell me why you thought it was a good idea to leave by yourself? Without a word? We were lookin’ for you-”

“I didn’t leave,” You spoke quietly, eyes unwilling to meet him now. You sounded so pathetic. “I was only gone for a little while-“

“A little while?” Tommy let out a breathless laugh. You had wandered to the front gates in your fury, demanding that James open it and let you leave. The poor man was slightly scared as you aimed your gun at him, breathing heavily with an angry stare. But you had to leave.

It was early in the morning before the sun had risen, cooler than what the April weather had to offer later in the day. You were gone for the morning, needing some time alone after you and Tommy had an argument. You wanted to be put on patrols yet he refused. You returned earlier that morning after watching the sun rise slowly through the mountains, glistening in the birds' songs and rays of sunlight.

“I needed to be alone. You of all people know how it is. I’m capable of taking care of myself. I should be able to leave without feeling like…” A prisoner, you wanted to say, but you looked at the door instead, sighing as Tommy shook his head, sitting back further into his seat. He was practically lounging in his seat now, arms crossed over his chest as his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

Tommy exhaled sharply, rubbing his hands over his face before dropping them in his lap. “You can be alone here.” He pointed at the floor. "Or outside. Hell, anywhere. You wanna hole yourself up in your house for a week? Fine. Do that. But don’t-" He stopped, exhaling sharply through his nose, shaking his head. "Don’t fuckin’ disappear. Last time you left-" Tommy shook his head suppressing the distant memories.

You scoffed, eyes darkening. “I needed space. Everywhere I turn there’s someone there. I needed to actually be alone.” Tommy glanced at your legs, and you knew what he was thinking. Tommy’s gaze flickered to your legs. A flash of hesitation. Of something softer, something unspoken. And you knew exactly what he was thinking: You can’t be alone. You can’t handle being alone. You can’t even fucking run.

The silence stretched between you, thick with words left unsaid. You had argued with Tommy before. A lot. But this fight was different. This wasn’t about some stupid disagreement. This was about you and your capabilities. How you felt so useless- so careless to only be doing the simplest of tasks when your heart called out for something better.

“I consider you as my family. Do you know that?” Of course you knew that. You’d be stupid to not know that. “You, Maria… you’re all I’ve got left. Don’t be fuckin’ stupid and run off with Buttercup again. I mean- for Christ's sake you didn’t even have a gun!”

“You worry too much about me. I told you I can take care of myself.”

“And when a horde of ‘em comes after you, what will you do? Run?” His finger jabbed towards your leg, referring to your limp. “When a group of raiders find you, shooting Buttercup, what will you do then?”

A lump formed in your throat, hot and suffocating. Your arms curled tighter around yourself. You knew what you were- what you’d become. Just another burden. Another mouth to feed. Another liability Tommy had to protect, whether he wanted to or not. You knew you were an inconvenience to everyone around you; only able to do simple tasks around Jackson like maintenance of the horses, cleaning up in the kitchen, pitching in on dinner a couple times a week, working in the greenhouse.

You remained neutral, swallowing the lump in your throat. You wanted to matter again. You felt so empty without a gun in your hand. When you and Tommy first arrived at Jackson, you were fine with doing the simple things. But the repetition scared you; you needed something different.

“I’m damn good with a gun and you know that Tommy-”

“I know. Hell, you just might be better than me but that's not the point. We're a community here. Were not fireflies anymore-”

“I know that.”

“You keep to yourself, and I get it. I do. But…” Tommy sighed, shaking his head. “Me and Maria are the only people you talk to-”

“I talk to Eugene and Henrietta.” Tommy deadpanned as you adjusted the straps on your overalls.

“They don't count, you have to talk to them. I think it's time for you to finally branch out, get to know some people and make some meaningful friends.”

As if it was that easy. You tried making friends but no one really… stuck around. It was quiet again, and you wanted so badly for Tommy to just forget it. But you knew he wouldn't.

“You’re not alone anymore,” he said finally, his voice gruff but steady. “You don’t have to act like you are.”

You wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him he was wrong; that you had always been alone, that people left, that people died. That being alone was safer, that it was easier, that it meant you didn’t have to sit here and have conversations like this where someone actually cared enough to call you out.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you let out a slow breath, pressing your lips together.

You shifted in your seat. “I just needed to clear my head.”

“And you think disappearin’ is the way to do it?”

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head as the ponytail you had put it in became looser.

“I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking, Tommy! I mean jesus! You treat me like I’m a fucking child! I can’t do patrols- I can’t watch the gate- what I can-“ You rolled your eyes, scoffing again. “Oh that’s right I can help Henrietta with dinner- oh and I can help in the greenhouse. I’ve been doing this shit for what? Three months? I’m done. Put me back on patrol.” Your eyes slanted, now heated up.

It was quiet again, only this time Tommy was staring at you and the way you fidgeted nervously in your seat that was adjacent to his. The way you played with your thumbs, a habit of picking at the skin when you were upset about something. The way your eyes darted around, not daring to look him in the face. The way you were sat up straight, not like your normal slouch.

And the way that even your body language told him what your words could not. That you were scared. So deathly afraid. Tommy knew you too well; he knew exactly what you were thinking even if you weren't aware of those thoughts yourself.

“I care about you too damn much to-“

The door creaked open when Tommy had started to speak, interrupting him. Both you and Tommy turned towards the sound of it. It was Mike, one of the men on the council who had entered the room hurriedly, speaking out in vigor. He spoke almost excitedly, slightly out of breath as he collected himself. He paused for a moment before speaking.

“It's your brother,” Tommy’s face hardened quickly.

“He’s back.”

Next Chapter ->

A/N: Hello! This is only a small preview into my upcoming Joel fanfic! Chapter 1 will be posted!

Masterlist

[utilitycaster]

As someone who hasn't watched majority of c1, reading your thoughts on how tlovm compares is really interesting! I've been in the fandom since c3 began and have seen all of c2 and c3, and I've picked up a lot context.

However, I watch tlovm with a friend who has only seen tlovm at all (and like, 1 hour of exu calamity e1 that we never continued lol, so he did recognise Zerxeus' name). From his perspective of seeing the show as it is on it's own, he's been having a great time, something I do think speaks to the strength of this adaptation - that one of the things CR set out to do was to make something that stood on it's own, and I think they've succeeded in that.

How do you feel on that aspect of tlovm?

I agree - I think a lot of the criticism does come down to disappointment that we're not seeing some of the peak moments of Campaign 1, and I want to be clear that I share some aspects of that disappointment! It is just that like, again, I don't see how you make a scripted show where A Bard's Lament hits if you haven't seen the original, or where Glintshore hits in the same way at all.

I've been thinking about this a lot because I have gotten into some things for which I am unfamiliar with the original/prior installments through mutuals. For example, I have now read some of The Wheel of Time series (gotta get back into it) but I watched the show without any sentimentality for the original, and I think many people who haven't liked it have been mad about changes from the books, not how the TV story holds up. Similarly, I'm very intrigued by Veilguard despite zero past knowledge of basically anything Dragon Age, and I know a lot of longtime fans in particular are mad about changes. The challenge of adaptation, or further installments, is to straddle that line of appealing to new fans and old fans alike. And it's possible - I think TLOVM could have done some things better, but I'm here and I'm not mad about it and while I cannot claim OG C1 fan status I was around in time to have watched C1 and backed the kickstarter, but at the same time it's clearly working for people unfamiliar with the source.

I don't think you should totally abandon everything old fans liked about a series; but the fact is, old fans are a spectrum ranging from people who will love it no matter what because it's their blorbos some more! to people who will nitpick the fact that a specific phrase they have an emotional attachment to didn't appear, and everyone in between. You can't gain more old fans; you can only lose them. And in the end, you should tell a story that works for the medium and what you are trying to do. That doesn't mean every series or adaptation is good, to be clear; I think people who hate on Game of Thrones are 100% valid and not just bitter ASOIAF fans, and we all know that the MCU's attempt to build both a coherent universe but also be accessible to new fans turned it into an absolute trainwreck. But I think that an adaptation should not only be the original but in a new medium, and it should be something a new viewer would enjoy, and yes, I think TLOVM achieves that.

[dreamingofep]

Forbidden Love pt. 8💔❣️

Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: Reuniting with Elvis was supposed to be the highlight of your summer, but with unresolved tensions between you two, things aren't what they seem. [Fem!reader]

TW: Cussing, angst, some tension

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: Hi everyone! Posting in Elvis hours again! Hope you like where this next part is heading! More to build upon and can't wait to share with you what's next! I Hope you enjoy!

*

July 8th, 1969

The next few days felt like an eternal hell. It almost felt like you had to start your life over. It was lonely and quite depressing. You were so mad at Elvis for how he’s treated you after all these years and the other night was your breaking point. You thought a person could change but you might have been wrong. You didn’t want to talk to anyone about what happened over dinner. You kept to yourself for the next few days and no one seemed to mind. John didn’t bring up once why you stormed out of Elvis’ house. It was a better idea for him to do that. You didn't want anything to do with him. 

You had to get yourself out of this funk. You can either let this define you or do something else to make a difference in your career. You started taking fewer hours at the diner which was a scary choice because you knew it wasn’t going to be easy getting new auditions and getting booked for them. It had been three years since you’d gotten anything remotely interesting. You were afraid you didn’t have it anymore. 

You tried to push that negative energy out of your mind and focus on some good. You had to try and go out there. It was still your passion and something you would tirelessly work for. 

For the next few days, you set out for any audition you could find. You'd wake up early to go to the diner for a few hours, then change into new clothes to go search for audition notices around the city. There were quite a few you found and it made you feel hopeful one of these projects could be yours. 

You hadn’t spoken to Elvis this entire time. It was almost strange after you were so used to this new routine you two had. You had too much anger towards him to speak to him about everything without yelling at him again. You were surprised that he didn’t even try calling you. Every time the phone rang, you always expected to hear his smooth southern drawl ring in your ear but you were left disappointed. 

After a few days of nothing but empty promises and bad auditions, you had to keep trying. You knew there would be a hundred nos before there would be one yes. You were about to head out for the day and go to another audition you had scheduled when the phone rings. You were home alone and wondered who could be calling this time of day. 

You quickly pick it up, “hello?” 

“Hi, may I speak with y/n?” A woman’s voice says on the other end of the line. 

“Speaking?” You say, not recognizing the woman’s voice. 

“This is Nancy from Paramount Studios. We’re holding open auditions today for a new production. Your resume was passed onto us from a friend and we were wondering if you’re free to come in today around one?” She asks you. 

You were a bit taken aback. This was unheard of for you. No one was calling you for auditions, you were normally the one on the phone begging them for a chance to be seen. But you had to push that self-doubt away and seize this opportunity now. 

“Oh yes, I can be there no problem!” 

“Wonderful, we’ll see you then,” she says. 

You were thrilled, this could be a new start for you. Your brain couldn’t help but spoil the moment with doubt. This all felt too easy. You had only been out looking for new jobs for a few days and this fell into your lap? It didn’t settle with you, right? 

It had Elvis written all over it.  

He did something to get you this. Sure, it could be just dumb luck but with Elvis around, that wasn’t a thing. He needed to stay away from you, you didn’t want him around screwing up anything else for you. 

You raced to the studio and got there early to get your hands on the script they wanted you to read from. The audition went really well. The scene they had you do dealt with a girl pleading for her boyfriend to tell her the truth whether he loved her or not. It wasn’t too far off from your real life you realize. You connected with the script and let your emotions over your whole situation with Elvis fuel your performance. You left the soundstage feeling positive but still not that hopeful you had the role. It had been a while since you worked so you weren’t sure if your lack of work would hinder you. 

The next day, you get a call and it just about makes you scream with joy. You got the part and you needed to be on set in two days. You couldn’t be happier. It was a shorter production for your character but you didn’t mind it. You get to be on set for five days and do what you love. It was going to be a new start for you, just like you hoped. You had a new sense of optimism. Things were going to be alright, and maybe you needed Elvis out of your life for it.

That thought made your heart cry.

*

The first day of shooting went well and the entire cast and crew were wonderful to you. You had some jitters at first but they disappeared when you started to work with everyone. Everyone showed you respect and appreciation for showing up and being prepared for the day. 

You’re always surprised how much waiting there was when you’re on set. Your call time might say for you to be onset at three, but you won’t start shooting til four. That’s Hollywood for you. It takes the crew a while to set up the new camera or change locations. Thankfully you had the patience for this waiting game.

You weren’t called onto set for another three hours so you had time to kill. They were kind enough to give you a small trailer to get ready in that you shared with another co-star. It wasn’t like what the big stars got but you were thankful you had a couch in there you could take a nap in if you wanted. Sometimes you have to take advantage of the downtime and get a few minutes of sleep. You were going to be on set late today for scenes that were going to be shot at night so you needed the rest.

You lay down on the small, two-seat sofa and try to get comfortable. A knock on your trailer door snaps you awake and you sit up. You couldn’t have dosed off for more than a few minutes and became fearful that you overslept and they were looking for you on set.

“Come in,” you quip, straightening out your hair and smoothing the dress you had on.

Sunshine pours into the trailer and a tall shadow walks in. Your heart stops when you see his face. That beautifully sculpted face that people dreamed about was standing in your trailer. 

Elvis.

He wore tan slacks and a white button-up, looking at you like he did when he first saw you a few weeks ago. He looked so put together and effortlessly beautiful. His hair fell down on his forehead, just how you liked it. He wore these gold sunglasses that had his initials on the sides of the frames. He takes them off and his blue eyes melt into you. God he was beautiful, it shouldn’t be that distracting but he was! You blamed it on not seeing him for the last week that you were jarred by his presence but who were you fooling, he was just too damn beautiful to look at.

Your mouth goes dry as you stare at him longer, not expecting him to be here. 

“What are you doing here,” you say a bit coldly. 

He continues to stare at you and doesn’t say anything right away. 

“How are you, honey?” He asks softly. His voice has you melting. You curse at yourself for feeling this way for him. Even after everything he did, you still feel weak around him. 

“I’m fine,” you say softly. 

He stays quiet and looks around your small dressing room. You didn’t want him here lingering, he came here for a purpose and you wanted to get him out of here as quickly as possible. You also had things to get off your chest. You didn’t want him to stall or try to do anything drastic. 

“How much did you pay them to get me in this movie?” You ask him, crossing your arms against your chest.

He turns around quickly, confusion covering his face.

“What are you talking about?” He asks, taking a few steps closer to you, and taking off his sunglasses.

“Oh come on don’t play dumb, I’m not an idiot. I haven’t gotten an acting job in over three years. Then all of a sudden I get a call that I was recommended to them by someone? It doesn’t make sense,” you huff.

“I didn’t pay them, honey,” he says calmly.

“Stop calling me honey,” you snap, “and stop lying to me!"

His lips form in a scowl and his blue eyes burn into you menacingly. He stands before you and takes a slow breath in while looking at you. He makes you feel on edge, being this close to him again was too much to handle. He was so provocative without even trying. His presence pulled you in so easily and made it hard to focus even when he was mad. He gently lifts your chin up to look into his eyes. His skin on yours again made you feel like a puddle. You defiantly look at him and wait for him to say something.

“From what I remember, you like me calling you honey quite a bit,” he teases, eyeing you up and down slowly. You hold your breath as you feel yourself crumble for him. He was right, of course he was and it pissed you off. 

“I’m trying to be civil with you. I just wanted to see you,” he says low.

You quickly push his hand off of your face and scowl at him.

“Did you think this would make up for what you did? Like I’d forgive it all?” You ask him.

“I didn’t do anything about this role. I didn’t pay anyone anything,” he says fiercely. Your heart gallops away at his tone and the way he continues to look at you.

“I did pass your information to producers here, yes, I did. I still know people here and met with one of them last week for lunch. They were saying they were having a hard time casting this movie. He explained to me the role and… of course, I thought of you. It’s like second nature to me… but I just passed on your information, that’s all. I helped you get the call sure, but you did the work. You were the one who impressed all the producers and director. You got yourself here, I just wanted to help from a distance, that’s all,” he explains.

You sit down quickly on the couch behind you, feeling the wind get knocked out of you. 

He was just trying to do something good.

He did something kind and stayed out of the way.

He’s letting you shine and do what you love.

Damnit he's impossible to hate.

You didn’t know what to say to him. You felt bad for snapping at him like this. You’ve had so much pent-up anger towards him this last week you couldn’t think straight about the whole situation. The sight of him on a magazine cover in the grocery store ticked you off. The sound of his voice on the radio put you in a foul mood for the rest of the day and you almost always drove in silence because of it. You still hadn’t listened to his new album even though it was everything anyone was talking about.

The guilt wracked through you the longer you looked at him. You couldn’t find the words to start to apologize to him. He still put you through a lot of strife. This wasn’t going to make it all magically disappear but it was a good start.

“I… I didn’t know,” you say timidly.

He stays silent, letting you find the words you want to say.

“I appreciate the help,” you continue.

“It’s the least I could do… you know I care for you don’t you?” He asks, taking a seat next to you on the sofa. “I’ve missed you terribly. I hate not seeing you.”

He looks at you softly, his eyes pleading for you to keep looking at him. He places his hands on either side of your face and gently rubs him thumbs across your cheeks, studying every detail of your face. It felt so good to be touched by him again. He was so comforting and intoxicating to be around. He keeps staring at your lips, parting his slightly as you’re both sitting there and he leans in a bit more. Both of you breathe in sharply as you get closer.

You were nervous for this to go any further. On one hand, you wanted him to kiss you like he used to, you missed how his lips made you feel on fire. You wanted to let your guards down with him. A part of you wanted him to hold you in his arms again and hear him say how much he’s missed you. What you would give to hear him plead for you over and over and over…

You let that fantasy wither away and slowly pull your face out of his hands. You take a sharp breath in, you were holding it the entire time he was touching you. He looks like he just got his heart ripped out of him. He was so physical and emotionally hurt by you.

“I want to believe every word you say, but you have to understand why I have the hesitancy not to,” you sigh. His eyes fill with hurt as he looks at you.

He gets up and runs his hand through his hair, clearly frustrated even though you can’t see his face anymore.

“Please come by the house after you’re done here, so we can talk. I just want to talk to you again,” he says firmly as he heads for the door.

“Elvis I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you say, trying to stop him.

“Y/n please, I don’t want to fight with you here. Just come to the house after you're done here okay?” He says sternly.

“No, I’ll go over when I’m ready to talk to you. I have to be back here really early too so I can’t come by,” you snip.

“Goddamn it,” he mumbles under his breath and goes to the door furiously, not taking another look at you. The sound of it slamming made you more upset at yourself. You didn’t know what to say to him. It was hard to have him look at you with those soft eyes that could make you do anything. You didn’t want to talk to him about everything you’ve been feeling these last few days. You wanted more time to process this all. It wasn’t going to be easy to stay away from him.

*

The next few days on set were wonderful and went by too quickly. You wished you had more days to work with all the kind people in the production. Elvis weighed in the back of your mind though. All you could see were those hurt, pleading eyes of his that begged for your attention. It had been over a week since the huge fight you two had. You still weren’t ready to talk to him. You knew it would go the same way when you saw him in your trailer the other day. You didn’t want to blow up on him again, you needed to have a civil conversation. 

It was a sweltering night in LA. The city was experiencing a heat wave and wasn’t letting up for a few more days. You were looking forward to being in your air-conditioned apartment and relaxing. It was well after midnight and started to drive home. There was no traffic this time of night but the lights of office buildings in town poured onto the darker roads, illuminating your way home. 

You unlock the front door and feel the warm, stale air hit you in the face. It was also pitch black in there and couldn’t see a thing in front of you. John had to be home, he didn’t stay this late at Elvis’. 

“John?” You say loudly. The flick of a match makes you stare into the darkness, trying to see who’s in there. 

He was in the kitchen and stepped out, “yeah?” 

“Why are all the lights off? Why is it so damn hot in here?” You say grumpily. 

“The powers shut off,” he says lighting another candle. 

“What do you mean? Was there a blackout or something?” You say confused. 

“The bill wasn’t paid on time,” he grumbles. 

You were taken back. John took care of the rent and the electric bill. He made more than you and that’s just how you’ve always done it. He had never missed a payment like this, even in hard times. He never asked you for the money even if you two were having a really hard month.

“What do you mean? Elvis paid you right? You’ve been working three weeks for him. I’m sure that’s been plenty to pay the electric bill,” you press. 

“Well it wasn’t, we’ll figure it out in the morning.” He snaps at you, taking the candle to the bedroom with him. 

You knew he was lying. The man was lying right to your face. You just about had enough of it with all the men in your life lately lying through their teeth when talking to you.

You follow him to the other room, needing to understand what’s going on.

“Please don’t walk away from me. I don’t understand how we didn’t have money to pay the electric bill. This has never happened,” you press.

“I said I’ll figure it out in the morning! Get off my back about it. Should probably get used to it if you’re going to be out there acting again,” he huffs.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Are you blaming this on me?!” You protest.

“Well you’re not helping very much,” he snarls at you.

You look at him in disgust, not believing this is how the man you thought you loved is treating you.

“How dare you. You’re unbelievable, you know that. I know Elvis is paying you more than you’ve made in a long time so I don’t understand where our money is going,” you seethe.

“I guess it’s none of your concern since it’s not your money,” he barks at you.

You had enough. You couldn’t be anywhere near him at this point. You needed to know where all that money was going but you didn’t have the patience tonight to go back and forth with him. It was ridiculous the way he was talking to you. It seemed the happier you were, the meaner he was to you, sucking all the joy out of your life.

You quickly push past him and reach under the bed for your duffle bag. You open your closet and pull articles of clothing off the hanger and shove them into the bag. You then go to the dresser and put more clothes in there before rushing to the bathroom.

“Where are you going?” John asks annoyed.

“I can’t be here. I’m going to stay at a friend's tonight,” you snap.

“Come on,” he says dumbfounded, pulling at the duffle bag, trying to get it out of your hands.

You quickly pull it back though and don’t let him get it out of your grasp.

“No, I’m going. I’m tired of your shit,” you yell, quickly getting out of his sight. You rush out of the apartment and get back in your car. You drive almost on autopilot, leaving your neighborhood and driving up to the Hollywood hills, towards Elvis.

*

*

*

Tagging: @loving-elvis @neptuneismysister @velvetelvis

@ccab @presleyenterprise @theresalwaysep

@sillybookmarks @dkayfixates

@ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog

@myradiaz @tacozebra051

@18lkpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873

@austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis

@everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers

@idontwanttoputanything @ohjustpeachy-

@elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony.

@generoustreemystic @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121

@jaqueline19997

@returntopresley. @iloveelvis @rjmartin11 @that-hotdog

@louisejoy86 @misspresley @cattcb @annapresley8

@arrolyn1114 @raginginkedslut @epthedream69

@mh777ep1938

@50sexyshadestashionista

@oldhOllywOod @hooked-on-elvis @livelovedilfs

@sloppiest-of-jos @thisis-theway @gatheraheart

@aphroditebabygirl @faeolwen

[love-minor-poltergeist]

Hello polter! What do you think about the new cuphead dlc? I told myself I wasn’t going to fall for Chef Saltbaker, but i was very wrong. Could we please have some headcanons sometime?

A/N: Man you could really tell how far behind I am on some of these requests– man, I didn’t even know how long I’ve been in this rut until now. Especially since the DLC came out 2 years ago. Even as I am typing out this little note, I can’t help but grimace and feel awful for only now getting to this (シ〒﹏〒))シ

Now, I wasn’t sure if this was referring to just general headcanons or x reader ones, so I decided to go for the former for the time being!

General Chef Saltbaker Hcs:

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

Even before his scheme to finally bake the Wondertart came to light, the residents of Inkwell Isle Four sensed something was… off about Chef Saltbaker. The way his  jolly smiles didn’t quite reach his eyes; how he’d often lash out at random intervals before suddenly slipping his cheerful mask on; the numerous backhanded remarks he’d dole out to customers— and god forbid he becomes passive aggressive. 

Point is, he wasn’t really a friendly fellow to begin with– and everyone was able to catch on relatively quickly. However, there was a tense, silent agreement between the other Island denizens and Chef Saltbaker: they stay out of his business, and he’ll play nice. And with gourmet treats to sweeten the pot, it’s enough to make most people look the other way. 

He kept his life incredibly private prior to his rehabilitation. Chef Saltbaker wasn’t originally from the fourth Isle, having quietly set up his bakery to little fanfare. The man hardly ever left the building, either. During the late hours of the night, long after closing hours, a few onlookers even caught him opening the door that led to the basement of the bakery; leading to a few crazed conspiracies and theories of what exactly he did down there.

Granted, considering how Saltbaker had a lab down there, they weren’t wrong. But he also just had a nook that he lived in. Rent could be expensive in the city blocks of the Isle. He’d rather spend most of his budget towards ingredients, so living within the bakery was just naturally the better option. 

Honestly, baking the Wondertart was the culmination of a series of unfortunate events. A struggling career in the culinary arts, years of being taken advantage of by restaurant owners– who dangled the empty promise of a promotion if he just was more passionate, constant stress over meeting rent, funding the bakery, and himself, rude customers; it could go on forever. After continuous disappointment and admittedly isolating himself, it was easy to see why he went a little, ah, mad. 

Saltbaker’s gotten a lot better though! Albeit, there’s still remnants of that bitter, passive aggressive (hell, even just normal aggressive) personality lurking underneath his much more positive self. Now that he has gained the trust and friendship of the Isle denizens– finally gaining a sense of belonging and community he didn’t know he was missing– he’s calmed down significantly. 

Complete and utter neat freak about his kitchen. Organizes all ingredients and spices alphabetically and dedicates separate drawers to each cooking utensil. Not to mention that at the end of each shift, he’ll make sure that the kitchen is absolutely spotless. He does not care if it’ll take him an extra hour; if everything is not in order like he left it, he’ll go mad. 

After doing community service, Saltbaker mostly just uses his laboratory to experiment with different flavors and batters for his deserts. Some of his concoctions range from mere enhancements to common flavors like strawberry to exotic flavors like dragon fruit or lychee. He’s open to new flavors!

While his large, pot-bellied frame may not look it, Chef Saltbaker is incredibly fast. When you’re working a one-man show and have a line of customers waiting for their orders, it’s completely necessary for him. Granted, a lot of the people who come in are usually complete sweethearts and are willing to wait. Nevertheless, the man’s practically a blur as he’s speeding from station to station, kneading dough one second and then preparing a batch of frosting the next. If he finds himself needing extra help, he’ll usually use magic or conjure up a salt clone. 

Though the latter doesn’t happen all too often since said clones tend to make his desserts much saltier than he would like.

Food gore makes him irrevocably angry and stressed out. Why on earth would you show him this? Saltbaker already hated wasting food, but downright ugly food or disgusting looking combos will genuinely mess him up for the rest of the day. Same thing with those images of people gripping their food too tightly. The first time Cuphead did it to an eclair in the bakery, it took every muscle of self restraint for Saltbaker to not jump over that counter and clobber a child to death. 

Speaking of, don’t ever suggest to add breadbowls to the menu in front of him. He took pride in baking that loaf of bread and you want him to massacre it?! How very dare you. He doesn’t care if it’s a popular trend, he’ll sooner slap the person who asked than waste a crumb of that bread. 

Incredibly strong, but that’s a given. The man kneads dough by hand all day and usually carries in crates and heavy bags full of groceries into the bakery. Could pick up around five grown men with ease. 

Ms. Chalice usually pops in to get extra cookies, and will often offer to help out where she can in the kitchen. She and Chef Saltbaker were kind of awkward around each other for a bit– given the whole “Hey I lied to you and your friends and tried to steal their soul” bit. However, after some time, they’re comfortable around each other to the point where you’d usually overhear their banter while they work. 

“Oh, come now, Saltbaker! You can’t put a price to our friendship!”

“Yes I can, dear. Fifty dollars.”

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

[theobjectofmyobsession055]

Boothill x SingleParent!Reader: Lassos and Lullabies Chpt. 2

Previous part Next part

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Boothill found himself looking forward to that Sunday. He didn’t have another job lined up for another couple weeks, so miraculously he had the time to help out. He was slightly disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to flirt with Y/N, but the thought of seeing Charlotte again made up for it.

He arrived at Y/N’s apartment at around two o’clock to find her scrambling. Her hair was messy, and she had a frazzled look in her eyes when she opened the door. Instantly her shoulders dropped in relief. “Boothill, thank God you’re here. I’m so so sorry to dump this on you right when you just got here, but Lottie was not very fond of the vegetable soup I made for lunch and I’ve really gotta get going now or I’m gonna be late. I managed to clean up the table and floor, but she desperately needs a bath.”

He gave her a good-natured smile. “Easy, easy, no need to be sorry. You head on out, I’ll take care of it.”

She let out a relieved sigh, her eyes shining with gratitude. “Thank you so much. I could seriously kiss you right now.”

He grinned wolfishly and tipped his hat at her. “From a pretty lady like you? I wouldn’t say no.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she cracked a smile. “Oh stop it. But seriously, thank you. Here’s the spare key.” She reached into her purse and fetched a keychain with a bright pink pompom on it, handing it to him. “I should be home around eight or nine tomorrow morning. Good luck!” And with that, she was out the door, leaving him alone with Charlotte.

“Hoo-boy, well lookee here,” he said, taking in the sight of Charlotte absolutely drenched in soup, little vegetable pieces sticking in her hair. “Your momma worked hard on that soup, y’know. Whatcha doing spillin’ it all over yerself for?”

She bounced in her highchair, clapping her hands excitedly. “Hat! Hat!”

He chuckled, kneeling down to her level. “Is that all I am to you, little missy? Tell you what, you take a bath without fussin’, and I’ll let you wear my hat again, okay?”

“Hat! Gow-boy hat!” She seemed to get even more excited at that idea, waving her chubby hands in the air towards him.

He laughed. Oh she was just precious. “Yer right, little lady, it is a cowboy hat. Now c’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.” He picked her up out of her highchair and set her down on the floor. She started to waddle down the hallway.

He grinned. Maybe this would be easier than he thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He thought wrong.

It was one thing to draw a bath, it was another thing to get a squirmy toddler in it. He thought he was home free once he managed to wrangle her out of her clothes, but then she slipped out of his hold (still slippery with soup all over her) and made a mad dash around the apartment butt naked.

The sound of her little feet slapping against the hardwood and her delighted squeals rang through the apartment, followed by the much less endearing sound of Boothill’s metal boots clanking as he chased after her. Damn, he’d forgotten how fast little kids were. He stood with his arms and legs out like a goalie, cornering her in her bedroom. “End of the line, little lady.”

Usually when he said something like that, it struck fear into the hearts of his enemies (well, usually it was accompanied by a bullet between the eyes), but Charlotte just giggled.

He couldn’t help but crack a smile. “This a game to you, missy?”

She giggled louder. “Game!”

“Oh yeah, this is real fun for you, ain’t it?” And despite the situation, he couldn’t deny that he was having a bit of fun too.

She tried to dash around him, but he caught her right at the last second before she could get away, scooping her up in his arms to the tune of her excited little shrieks. He made sure to hold onto her tightly, so she didn’t wiggle away again. “Yer harder to catch than some ‘a my bounties, little lady.” He carried her off to the bathroom and finally, finally managed to get her in the bath. Once she was in, everything was peachy keen—she was too distracted by the bubbles and rubber duckies to try slipping away again. Water plus intricate circuitry usually didn’t mix well, but luckily he’d had his mechanic give him a waterproof coating after a job landed him on an island in the middle of an ocean, so as long as there were no exposed wires, he’d be fine.

His phone dinged right after he finished washing the shampoo out of her hair. He smiled as he saw who it was.

Hot Momma: Is everything okay? Did you get her to take her bath?

He snapped a quick photo of Charlotte in the bath putting suds on her rubber ducky’s head like a soapy crown. He sent it to Y/N with the message:

Doing fine and dandy. She ran from me a bit, but I managed to catch the little rascal.

A few seconds later she responded with nearly a dozen heart emojis. Precious! Pls send more pics when you can.

Will do. Aren’t you driving? Eyes on the road, dollface.

Haha you caught me. At a stoplight. Tell Lottie I miss her already!

He sent a thumbs up before tucking his phone back in his pocket and relating the message to Charlotte, who was far too absorbed in playing with her ducks to care.

He finished giving her her bath and helped her dry off and get dressed. She reached her arms up toward him, jumping up on her tip toes. “Gow-boy hat!”

Boothill chuckled, endeared by her pronunciation of ‘cowboy.’ “You still wanna wear my hat? I think our deal was you’d get to wear the hat if you took yer bath without fussin’.” He ruffled her still-damp hair, causing her to giggle. “Buuuut, I think I can make an exception for ya, just this once.” He took off his hat and placed it on her head, tipping the brim back so she could still see.

She jumped up and down, babbling happily. “Gow-boy, gow-boy!” She ran off out of the bathroom, laughing her little head off.

He smiled fondly, lazily following her with his hands in his pockets. “Where’re you runnin’ off to, little lady?” He peeked his head into her bedroom to find her playing with a stuffed horse, waving it up and down in the air like it was galloping.

She ran up to him with her plush horse, holding it up to him. “Pony! Gow-boy and pony!”

He kneeled down to her level, a wide grin on his face. “You like horses do ya, little missy? Yer on yer way to bein’ a bonafide cowboy already.”

“Play ponies! Ponies and gow-boys!” she chirped in her adorable little voice, waving the stuffed horse in front of him.

He chuckled, taking the pony from her. “Yes ma’am, ponies an’ cowboys it is.” He made a sound like a braying horse and shook the stuffed pony in the air, pretending it was rearing back on its hind legs.

Charlotte’s face broke out into a wide, toothy smile as she erupted into a torrent of giggles and squeals. Boothill wasn’t completely sure what a game of ponies and cowboys entailed, but Charlotte seemed to be satisfied with him just waving the pony in the air and making horse sounds.

After a while of playing, she reached her grabby hand up towards him again, the other adjusting his hat on her head that kept falling in her face. “Up! Up!”

He complied, easily hooking his hands under her legs and scooping her up into a piggyback carry. He carried her around the apartment, stomping around and neighing. The sound of her laughter in his ears made his chest feel full in a way it hadn’t since he’d lost his daughter. He could practically feel his circuits and servos thrumming with warm energy.

Even though Charlotte reminded him a lot of his daughter, he was beginning to notice a few key differences. Firstly, while his daughter had been more of the rough and tumble type of kid, Charlotte was a bit of a girly-girl. Along with playing cowboys, she wanted to play dress-up and have a tea party with all her stuffed animals (most of which were horses, he noticed). She asked him to braid her hair, though not in so many words, and he did his best to make sure her beautiful curls didn’t get caught in his mechanical joints. He was pretty proud with how it turned out, despite him being so out of practice. She seemed pleased with it too, swinging her head around and watching her two long braids swish to and fro.

Another difference was that Charlotte was picky. He supposed he got lucky with his little girl—for all her orneriness, she ate whatever you put in front of her. Charlotte not so much. He should’ve been prepared for a battle at dinnertime, what with the soup incident at lunch, but he didn’t expect to get pelted with dino nuggies.

He begged and pleaded and bargained with her, even offered to let her wear his hat again, but for the life of him he could not get her to eat her dinner. He didn’t want to bother Y/N with something that he should be able to easily handle on his own, especially not when she was at a work conference, but he was starting to run out of options.

Then he got an idea. “Hey little missy, do you wanna play a game?”

“Game! Game!” she cheered, bouncing in her highchair.

He grinned. “Yeah ya do. Here’s what we’re gonna play—we’re gonna play another cowboy game. Y’know cowboys got a lotta animals, doncha?”

She perked right up at the mention of cowboys. “Gow-boys! Naminals!”

He bit back a laugh. Gosh darn it, she was just too cute. “Yeah lotsa naminals. Well this cowboy—” He pointed a thumb towards himself. “Has got a lotta dinosaurs.” He pointed down towards the dino nuggies that were still on her plate instead of halfway across the room. “An’ yer trap right there is their pen. Can ya help me get all my dinos back in their pen?”

She clapped and squeezed, suddenly excited at the prospect of eating her dinner.

It was all smooth sailing from there. All he had to do was make some silly noises as he pretended to wrangle the dino nuggets and she ate them with no complaints. He’d always been told growing up that you shouldn’t play with your food, but surely he could make an exception for this case.

Soon after dinner it was time to put her down for bed. Boothill had to admit, he was pretty worn out from the day, and he could’ve used a nap himself. Charlotte didn’t seem to agree with him, however. He sighed, running his hand down his face in exasperation. “C’mon, Lottie, we’ve been playin’ all day. Aren’tcha even a little tired?”

She shook her head defiantly. “No! No bedtime!”

Well this was a pickle. He’d never raise his voice at a child, not in a million years, but he couldn’t deny he was starting to get frustrated. He wracked his brain, trying to think of things that helped put his little one to sleep when she was being fussy. Then it hit him. When Y/N gave him her tour of the apartment, he noticed an old acoustic guitar sitting on a stand in the back of her bedroom. Surely she wouldn’t mind if he borrowed it for a spell.

He'd given up playing long ago, but it felt like only yesterday when he started tuning the pegs. It sounded a little tinny when he plucked the strings, the sound reverberating through his metal hands, but he could live with it. He’d sworn he’d never play again on that fateful day all those years ago, but if it helped Lottie sleep… he could make another exception for her, just this once.

She looked up at him curiously as he sat down on the couch, idly stumming the guitar. Even if he didn’t have many muscles left to remember with, his hands still easily fell into place picking an old song that Nick used to play for him when he was a tot. Charlotte climbed up onto the couch and sat on his lap. She blinked up at him with big, owlish eyes as she listened to the music, and a smile formed on his lips. Well, he’d gotten her to sit still, that was an accomplishment if nothing else.

Charlotte leaned back against him, her head resting on his chest. She closed her eyes, and he continued to play.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of the door opening and closing caused Boothill’s eyes to blink open. The guitar hung loosely from his hand, propped up against the couch, his other arm curled around Charlotte’s sleeping form. He let go of the guitar and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, finding Y/N standing in front of him with a warm smile on her face. “Y/N…?” he mumbled, voice still raspy from sleep. One quick glance out the window revealed it was still dark out. “Thought ya weren’t gonna be back till mornin’…”

“I wasn’t supposed to be,” she whispered as she set her purse down on the table, careful not to wake up Charlotte. “But I couldn’t spend the night away from her, even if I knew you were watching her.” Her eyes flicked down to where Charlotte was huddled up against him, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. Her gaze softened as she looked back up at him. “I see now I shouldn’t have worried.” She approached, lightly stroking Charlotte’s hair. “Thank you for watching her, Boothill. I know it’s late, feel free to spend the rest of the night if you’d like.”

He was about to mumble out something about not wanting to impose, but the feeling of her soft lips brushing against his cheek shut him up real quick. She gently picked up Charlotte and carried her off to her room, leaving him dumbfounded, his face burning red.

Sleeping on the couch never felt quite so good.

[zapreportsblog]

Hiiii~!!! Can I request miles 42 with super chill/patient gf reader. Say like he is late, doesn't mean to flake on her, or keeps breaking promise time to time but reader is like "its ok love, things happen" only for miles to be something like "I am grateful you're not mad but why arent you mad?"

Omg, you are my first requester for a fic 😳 thank you so much for entrusting me to write this for you and hopefully you enjoy it :)

The Ebb and Flow of Love

➥ summary: miles is always canceling dates but his girlfriend doesn’t mind, she understands that he’s busy and he’s thankful for her for being so patient with him.

➥ earth 42 miles x reader

➥ a/n: hopefully I did good!!

In the bustling streets of New York City, Miles Morales—known to some as the Prowler—grappled with the challenges of juggling his double life as a hero and a boyfriend. The weight of responsibility often forced him to cancel dates and hangouts, leaving his girlfriend, (Y/N), feeling disappointed. Yet, amidst the chaos, their love remained steadfast, as (Y/N) embraced a deep understanding of Miles' commitments.

•••

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, (Y/N) sat patiently in Miles' apartment, waiting for his arrival. She had chosen a cozy spot on the couch, her favorite book in hand, knowing that their plans might yet again be disrupted by the demands of Miles' heroic endeavors.

The door creaked open, and Miles stepped inside, a mix of exhaustion and determination etched upon his face. He offered (Y/N) a sheepish smile, his voice filled with regret. "I'm so sorry, mi amor. It happened again—I had to respond to an urgent call. I didn't mean to cancel on you."

(Y/N) set aside her book, her gaze soft and understanding. "It's alright, Miles. I know how important your duty is to you, and I fully support it. We can always have a rain check for this date. Your safety and the well-being of others are paramount."

Miles sighed, relief washing over him as he realized the depth of (Y/N)'s understanding. He sank down next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "Thank you, mi amor. Your understanding means the world to me. It's not easy, balancing everything, but with you by my side, it becomes a little easier."

(Y/N) leaned into his embrace, her voice filled with reassurance. "We're in this together, Miles. I'm here to support you through thick and thin. Our love can weather any storm."

As time went on, the ebb and flow of Miles' responsibilities continued to present challenges. (Y/N) remained a constant source of support, always there to provide a listening ear and a warm embrace when Miles needed it most.

They established a routine of communication and understanding, openly discussing the demands of Miles' heroic life and finding ways to navigate the obstacles it presented. They learned to treasure the moments they did have together, whether it was a stolen hour for coffee or a quiet evening at home.

On those rare occasions when their plans were interrupted, (Y/N) would offer a range check—a time to reconnect and reschedule their missed date. It became a ritual that embodied their resilience and unwavering commitment to one another.

One evening, as (Y/N) and Miles settled into a cozy café, sipping their favorite drinks, (Y/N) couldn't help but voice her admiration. "Miles, I'm continually amazed by your dedication to others. Your willingness to sacrifice your own time and desires for the greater good is truly inspiring."

Miles smiled, his gaze meeting hers. "And I'm constantly in awe of your understanding and support, (Y/N). Not everyone would be as patient as you have been. Your love has been a beacon of light during my darkest moments."

(Y/N) reached across the table, her hand finding Miles' as she spoke from the depths of her heart. "Love is about embracing each other's dreams and aspirations, Miles. I believe in you, and I'm honored to stand by your side as you fulfill your purpose."

Their hands intertwined, the connection between them palpable. In that moment, they understood that their love was a force that could withstand the challenges life threw their way. Together, they would navigate the ebbs and flows of their journey, their commitment to each other serving as an anchor through the unpredictable tides.

As time passed, Miles' understanding of the importance of balance grew. He learned to prioritize self-care and to communicate his needs to (Y/N). Through open conversations and compromises, they found a way to maintain their connection amidst the chaos of their lives.

And so, in the vibrant tapestry of New York City, Miles Morales and (Y/N) embraced a love that transcended canceled plans and rearranged dates. Their bond grew stronger with each challenge, reinforcing their shared belief in the power of understanding, patience, and unwavering support.

Together, they wove a tale of resilience, knowing that their love could conquer the obstacles they faced. They celebrated the small moments, cherishing the range checks and the stolen seconds, understanding that their connection would endure, unyielding and unbreakable.

[meaningofaeons]

Hi! Congratulations on 500 followers!!!

I'd love to visit the cafe with Geppie and play with a white himalayan kitty. We would also like to order a glass of cider~

Thank you 💛

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ could you be any more dense?!

⊹ character(s) - gepard landau ⊹ word count - 1.1k ⊹ notes - gn!reader, hurt/comfort

⊹ katze's 500 follower writing cat-baret

THANK YOU!! AND ALSO TY FOR BEING THE VERY FIRST CAT CAFE REQUESTER ANON!!! <3 I hope you enjoy your "cat cafe date" with geppie!!!! (=^･ω･^=) also sorry this got a LOT longer than I was expecting these are meant to be short but I doubt I'm gonna manage to keep them short LMAO

Gepard is a very courteous man.

Sweet, patient, and above all, cordial. Gentlemanly, if you will.

However, that can definitely get to be... too much.

Especially when you feel like you've been just about as upfront as you can...

Or perhaps not—but at the very least, you're obvious enough, even if unintentionally, but...

It starts to get ridiculous.

Gepard is close to you, but painfully dense.

He's started keeping you at arm's length, a polite distance to maintain between two friends.

Friends, and nothing more.

You can try all you want, but in the end, he continues to put up that front around you.

It starts to even get... uncomfortable.

Like he's intentionally beginning to step back from involving himself with you.

It wasn't always like this—before, he was as open and close with you as he could be.

Even his sisters didn't know some of the things he'd share with you.

However, now...

You went to see him after his shift?

Sorry, he was invited to a function with some other nobles. Can't disappoint his family, now, can he?

You were at his greenhouse helping take care of his flowers (and waiting for him in the process)?

He would try to tactfully avoid the space until he was sure you were gone.

And really?

It started to hurt.

"Gepard, you're being ridiculous."

"Hardly, Serval. If you thought about it from my perspective—"

"Geppie! Hey, Gepard!"

Your familiar voice rang in the Landau siblings' ears.

As much as Gepard wanted to whip his head around and rush over to you, ask about your day and see what you've been up to, he instead turned away.

He began to speed walk in the opposite direction, making a beeline for Serval's workshop.

And only his elder sister bore witness to the way your facial expression crumpled.

Serval tried her best to give you an apologetic glance, clasping her hands together as if to say, 'I'm going to figure this out for you!' before chasing after her brother.

"What was that?!"

"I already told you—"

"Gepard Landau."

The blonde stopped in his tracks, wincing at the use of his full name.

He turned to his sister's fiery expression, trying his best not to back down, but it was frightening—Serval could be scary when mad, and she was your friend, after all. There's no way she wouldn't be up in arms.

"I don't care about your crap excuses anymore! Y/N is clearly hurt by what you're doing, ditching them everywhere, avoiding them... They're going to be more hurt by this than any danger you could put them in! For Aeon's sake, it's not like they've ever followed you to the front lines!"

Gepard knew Serval was right. She usually was.

But if the Supreme Guardian could be lost to the Fragmentum... even if it was contained...

Gepard also knew his worries were groundless.

However, what he was most scared of was caring for you too much, only to have you taken away by an accident.

Or coming to find out that you felt the same way (truly, deep down, he already knew you did) only for something to make you dislike him.

Ironically, the thing he feared most was more likely to come to pass by his current actions.

Serval only sighed at her brother's conflicted face, rubbing her temple.

"Oh, my aching head... Just go to them, would you? Talk it out! I'm tired of seeing Y/N sad, and I'm tired of seeing you being a mope!"

"But I—"

"No buts!"

Before he could protest further, his sister had promptly shoved him right out of the front door of the workshop... directly in front of your waiting figure.

"A-Ah, Gepp- I mean, Gepard—" you stumbled over your words a bit, having expected the man before you to have hidden out in the workshop and for Serval to have greeted you instead. "Sorry, sorry, um, I'll get out of your way—"

"No, n-no, wait—" Gepard stammered himself, both of your cheeks slowly turning pink at the awkward contact. You glanced up at him at that, acknowledging the first words he'd really spoken to you in quite some time.

"Um..."

You both spoke at the same time, which only worsened your collective anxiety.

"Oh, you go first—"

"Ah, sorry, go ahead—"

You stopped at that, as did Gepard, and then, you slowly began to giggle. The blonde smiled fondly at that, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment.

"Really, I insist you go first."

"Okay..." You took a deep breath, fiddling your fingers as the mood soured somewhat again. "I was just... wondering if I did anything to upset you, or..."

"Never!" You jumped at the loud response, staring at the man as he cleared his throat, looking about ready to run for his life (and dignity). "You haven't, um, done anything of the sort."

"Right..." You stared a bit longer. "Then, why do you keep avoiding me? Do you just not want to be around me any more?"

"That's not it either! I just... um, listen, Y/N... to tell you the truth—"

"Good lord!"

Serval slammed the workshop door open, glaring at your duo with ferocity. It sent Gepard barreling into you, the blonde man catching you in his arms just in time to prevent your fall. You both stared up at the eldest Landau with wide eyes.

"He likes you, and you like him, so quit umming and ahhing outside of my workshop! Go on a date! I have a show tonight, so go!" The woman wasn't truly angry, but... she was definitely exasperated.

As she shut the door and stomped back inside, you could hear her muffled voice.

"So obvious! It's so embarrassing!"

Silence settled over the space, and then, you broke out into a slight giggle.

Gepard smiled soon after, chuckling a bit as the two of you began laughing more and more at his sister's loss of patience.

"S-She meant it?" you asked through tearful laughter, "Y-You actually..."

"Yeah," the man stammered a bit, his own chuckles subsiding as he tried to contain his embarrassment. "I-I'm sorry, Y/N. I just didn't know... if you felt the same, or if... I don't know, I was being stupid—"

You gave him a small smile, reaching down to clutch his hand tightly in your own.

"Yeah, you were. Next time, just talk to me."

"...Gladly."

"Now, about that date... Your treat?"

"I suppose that's only fair, considering how rude I was to you..."

"That's right! And I'll never let you live it down!"

[cherryhazee]

gold rush | Quinn Hughes

Warnings: Slight mention of blood and alcohol.

wc: 1.1k

"Everybody wants you, but I don't like a gold rush..." inspired by Taylor Swift's song 'gold rush'.

When Madeline first met Quinn she started crying, not because she disliked him, but because he had stepped on her hand with one of his skates. Of course, there wasn’t any blood because he still had his skate guards on, but 5-year-old Maddie didn’t know.

From there, their meetings became a much more constant thing until the point where 13 years later they were in his dorm room, preparing for his draft day.

“Are you sure you’ve got everything in there?” Maddie asked Quinn, doubting the boy’s packing skills.

“Yes Mads, I’m sure. You can stop worrying about it”—he said, caressing the crease between her eyes with his thumb, relieving the stress he noticed she had accumulated in the past few days.

“I know, I know. But I can’t stop worrying, it’s the most important day of your life so far and I’m not gonna be there”

“I already told you it’s fine, You’ve got work here, and besides, you will be with me” Quinn assured her.

"Yeah but through the TV" she sighed, stuffing her face against her hands.

“Hey, no moping around. I need you to be happy” 

“I am! I swear. Now you gotta go, or you will never catch your flight” she said standing up and pushing him out of his room.

“Fine, I’ll go. Promise me you’ll be fine” he said, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

“I should be the one telling you that, but yes. I will be fine” the sound of her voice coming out muffled by his chest.

When the next day came, Maddie was all over the place. Every time they showed Quinn on the TV she felt how her nerves grew and another feeling she couldn’t quite decipher yet, but she brushed it off as Vancouver was the next team to select.

When they called Quinn’s name, Maddie couldn’t contain her happiness as she watched her best friend climb the steps of the stage and put on his Canucks jersey. She couldn’t be prouder. Her best friend was selected 7th overall, he was going to play in the NHL, and he was going to fulfill his dream. 

A few hours later, Maddie was in her room yet to hear a response from Quinn when her phone rang signaling the arrival of a text, she couldn’t help but get excited when she thought it was from him.

But her smile nearly dropped as she saw that it was Jack who had texted her. Opening the text she felt how her stomach dropped. It was a video that Jack took, clearly after taking one too many shots, but that wasn’t the issue, the issue was at the back of the video as she saw Quinn dancing with a gorgeous girl with her arms draped around his shoulders and his around her waist.

She didn’t want to watch the video anymore so all she did was like it. That’s when she deciphered the feeling she was having earlier, she was in love with Quinn Hughes. She had always been in love with him, but she hadn’t noticed until now when she thought it was too late.

She then realized that she would never have a chance with him, let’s be honest, he just got drafted into the NHL, and it was a matter of time before he had thousands of gorgeous girls dying to feel his touch, wondering what would be like to love him. 

Meanwhile in Dallas, Quinn was too intoxicated to see that the girl he was dancing with wasn’t his Mads. The Mads for whom he had always felt more than a friendship.

In a lucid moment where the alcohol lowered its effect, he realized the girl wasn’t Maddie so he excused himself and decided to put an end to his night. He went to the hotel with his family to finally rest and then return home to Maddie.

When the Hugheses returned to Michigan, Quinn could only think about going to Maddie’s house and spending time with her. So when he finally arrived at her house he was more than disappointed when he saw that Maddie was acting distant.

“Mads, look at me. Are you okay? Did something happen while I was gone?” he said putting two fingers under her chin so she would look at his eyes.

“Uhm…I wanted to tell you something. I know you just got drafted and that you’ll be staying here for another year and all that, but I feel that the best thing for us would be to distance ourselves, you know so your departure doesn’t hurt as much in the future” she said still trying to avoid eye contact because she knew that wasn't the truth, the truth was she couldn't handle being with him and not doing anything about her feelings.

“Where is this coming from? Do you think I could go to another country without you? Mads, I was planning on taking you with me” he said worried about her reaction, thinking it would be too much for her.

"I don't think I can Quinn," she said playing with her bracelets, a habit that Quinn didn't let go unnoticed since she did it every time she lied.

"I know you're lying! Just tell me what's wrong, I'm here for you" he pressured her to the point where she couldn't handle it anymore.

"I saw you after the draft dancing with that girl Quinn, and I know I don't have any right to be like this but I'm out of my mind in love with you, and-"

She couldn't finish her sentence as Quinn's lips crashed against hers. It was like everything they both had ever desired was there, everything was as it was supposed to be. It was the kind of kiss to create stars and they would climb into the sky and light up the whole world.

That kiss made Quinn know that he would never be as happy as he was kissing his Mads, the girl he had always loved.

"God I've waited a whole lot of years for this" Quinn confessed as he pulled his lips from hers, closing his eyes to savor the moment.

"Wh-what do you mean? What about the girl?"

"I'm gonna sound like the shittiest human alive but I thought that was you. Mads, I've loved you since you read that corny poem about butterflies in 3rd grade. At that moment I noticed how your eyes twinkled so beautifully that I swore I could drown in them"

"God you're cornier than that poem," she said as she giggled.

"I don't care, I finally have you," he said while pulling her into another kiss. "I've never felt or seen love as pure as ours, Mads. I love you"

"I love you too, Quinny. Now keep kissing me, you've got a lot to catch up on" she said smiling, never being as happy and loved as at that moment.

[rattlyglitch1]

Advice from the Knowing

Epel held his phone as it rang waiting for his Meemaw to answer. A part of him wondered if she was asleep since it was so late in the night. He wasn’t left wondering long because, within a few seconds, the phone was answered. “Epel I was wondering when you would call. How have you been? Are you ok after you visit the museum with Vil?” Epel smiled to himself. “I’ve been well, Meemaw. O’ course I’m ok after visiting the museum with Vil. Why were you askin’?”

Epel knew he was lying through his teeth; he just hoped his Meemaw couldn’t tell. “I saw what happened on the news. You looked scared, Epel. I know you’re a lyin’ to me.” Epel felt himself freeze. If his Meemaw had seen what had happened on the news would everyone else? Cater or Idia would no doubt be the first to know. Hell, everyone at the school probably knew by now. They were just waiting to point out how Epel was poison again.

Maybe that was why Vil seemed mad when Epel passed by. His image had been ruined and now Epel was being put as the blame? He had become the poison to his housewarden and most likely half-brother. “EPEL!” Epel looked around his room. He forgot he had been on the phone with his Meemaw. Why was he breathing so hard? “Epel you better listen to me now boy! You need-!” Epel heard his Meemaw's voice lower and become softer than it had been.

“You need to calm down ok? Take some deep breaths and listen to my breathing ok?” Epel gave a hum of understanding and listened to her and tried to match his Meemaw’s breathing. “Now Epel you’re calm right?” Epel waited a few moments before saying “Ya I’m calm Meemaw.” He could hear her sigh in relief. “Was there a reason you called Epel?” Epel had almost forgotten.

“Yeah, I was wondering how I should take on goin’ about to my housewarden. I was hopin’ I could just ignore him an’ it would be fine.” The disappointed sigh from his Meemaw was loud enough to not be ignored. “You’re just gonna have ta talk to him head-on. Not talkin’ with him isn’ gonna do ya any good especially now that he’s knowin’ about your ma.” Epel gripped the end of his shirt. “But maybe I can just blow over-”

“Boy it ain’t somethin’ you can jus let ‘blow over’ that won’ help either one of ya. Promise me ya will.” Epel sighed before smiling. “I promise I will Meemaw. Can we talk about something else like how the farm’s been goin’?”

///////

Epel hadn’t lied to his Meemaw. He just hadn’t interacted with Vill for over a week and barely had talked to Rook. Rook somehow still seemed oblivious to the situation or at least was trying to be. Epel wasn’t stupid he could see the look of pity he had in his eyes when talking to Epel. He hated the look and tried to limit his time seeing Rook as well. It was a wonder that no one else seemed to be trying to get any information out of him. Rook must have been behind it. It was a welcomed thing though. Maybe he could continue to ignore everything that happened.

Vil seemed to be able to ignore it well. Besides, if he was now a poison to Vil it would be bet that the situation was never brought up again. Epel couldn’t ignore Vil anymore. The housewarden seemed to be almost everywhere now. It had been two weeks since Epel had talked to Vil and now others were trying to get him to talk to the housewarden. They stopped hiding the fact that they knew what happened between the two.

Jack had been the first to approach Epel. It happened on a Tuesday afternoon when Epel was wandering around the schoolground and trying to sing to himself. Singing sometimes helped calm him. It had been something that Epel had wanted to do in the future. If he ever met his mother Epel dreamed of singing with her like he had seen in the movies she was in. Jack had scared Epel at first causing the shorter to get into a defensive position. “It’s just me, Jack.” Epel lowered his fist and waved.

“Hi, Jack. It’s odd seeing you out here. Usually, you’re with Yuu and Grim.” Jack shrugged. “I thought I should come and see how you were doing.” Epel smiled to Jack. “I'm doing fine.” Epel sat on the grass and patted a spot next to him for Jack to sit with him. Once the wolf beastman got situated he sighed. “I can tell you’re not ok, Epel. Everyone has.” Epel didn’t think that many people had noticed. He guessed though that it made sense that they would worry.

“You’re trying to ignore what happened. Vil is doing the same and it’s not helping either one of you. You both need to talk. If you want I can help you talk to him.” Epel flinched away from the hand Jack offered to him. “It’s for the best that we ignore what happened. If we do then it’ll be forgotten about and everyone can move on.” Epel had a small smile on his face trying to stay calm but Jak looked angered. “Did Vil tell you that?” Epel was quick to deny that his housewarden had.

“He didn’t but I’m sure that’s what he would want. I became a poison in his life and I’ve become that in other people’s lives. It’s best to ignore these things because if you don’t then you’ll only make more trouble for yourself.” The look Jack now had on his face seemed to be one of horror. “Epel I-” Epel held up his hand. “Don’t Jack it’s fine. I have to go get to spelldrive practice anyways so I have to go see you later.”

As Epel walked to spelldrive practice he couldn’t help but think how he had become a poison to his own school. Everyone believed he had parents. Heck Epel had lied to Idia, Jade, Sebek, Grim, Yuu, and Jamil when they visited Harveston by saying his grandparents lived in the same house as him and the rest of his family. If he was a poison now then there was no reason for him to speak to anyone about the situation. He couldn’t change how they saw him now so what was the point? Epel knew all he needed to do was man up and not let it bother him too much.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

[valentine-cafe]

˖⁺. ﹙ the mad cultist composer. ﹚:  rishen 9948v .𖹭 ݁

. . . if he can't have you baby no one else in this world can !! 🍒 : “ I need you at my side — where I can see you, feel you. please, my dear. let me take care of you. ”

꒰ verse ꒱ 9948v

꒰ species ꒱ blood cultist, necromancer, cultivator

꒰ ethnicity ꒱ mexican-indian

꒰ age ꒱ 25

꒰ gender ꒱ genderfluid, amab ( can physically switch )

꒰ mbti ꒱ intj

꒰ alias ꒱ 

the cursed, the scarlet sanguinist, the glitch, the scarlet thorn, the scarlet sentinel, the disappointment, the copycat, traitor, supernatural lynche

꒰ story ꒱ 

a flick of the wrist, the splatter of blood.

is he writing his compositions or casting another ritual?

rishen herrera, otherwise known as the scarlet sanguinist. a blank and blunt individual. often found silent and staring with those beady scarlet eyes of his. a cultist known for his callous ways and the monotone expression he keeps throughout them.

while his hands know many melodies and vast horrors, he is also what one would call a tracker. mercilessly hunting down his own kind when given the order.

in his personal time he serves the primordial rhytaari himself — yet something else brews beneath the surface. a slew of unidentified rituals and vast measures taken; eggs broken and heads stepped. but for what?

what does it even matter? it’s not as though he is even himself half of the time. an ever-shifting face to versions of himself across the multiverse

 

꒰ appearance ꒱

maroon eyes that either strike admiration or fear into people who dare gaze into them, enhanced sometimes when his scleras have black veins in them. usually after post ritual or during divine connection

medium-length, fluffy and curly dark brown hair that tickle halfway down his neck and frame her already beautiful face perfectly. and when the sun is out and the brightness of it hits

has beautiful bronze skin, that is adorned by beauty spots on the left side of his face and along his forearms.

has a very androgynous face that leans more towards feminine features rather than masculine, yet you see the clear features there as well. his face is a combination of soft and sharp edges and corners

lots of red and black makeup, often wandering with puppy-liner and dark red eyeshadow, with a lighter red, but still dark, lipstick. with a subtle blush.

has a vermillion mark on his forehead. complementing his makeup and facial structure.

stands at the height of 5’10” ( 177cm ) with an slender body

sometimes wears henna on his hands, with intricate designs and artistry, he either does them himself or he borrows a hand from a certain verseless jìngyí.

veins glow deep red when magic use, and if overexerted the hue will brighten gradually.

tiny ruby jewel on his tongue that shimmers gently whenever it catches the light.

carries standard lobe piercings with a helix piercing on his right, often with rubies inside of them into them.

has a beautiful nose ring that connects to his right earring, and sometimes he switches it out for more detailed ones depending on the events.

labret piercing to sit there perfectly on her pretty soft bottom lip, designed as a gold strip with small red jewel in the middle of the upper part of the piercing.

gold rings cover his fingers, thin and thick, while bangles upon bangles cover his arms and wrists, shining in the reflection of the sun and when his veins glow.

wears lots of red and black clothes, which range from an elegant style, to a more casual to traditional styles from her cultures, at times, it is also in a mix of modern and traditional.

typically switches between genders whenever he feels like it, and is able to alter through spells.

 

꒰ personality ꒱

considered the silent type, he’s more of an observer than anything else. quite reserved

monotone, he’s not one to change expression often. is considered to be quite blank and also has a dry tone to the way he speaks

has a sort of effortlessness to him — as though he doesn’t quite care about the world around him or how he does things

speaks in a rather blunt, but quiet manner. some might see him as soft spoken but that is far from the case

teaming with sarcasm and quick wit

easily agitated, does not show it however. he must remain in control of himself

if he does joke, he has a rather dark sense of humour

a bit of a perfectionist admittedly

often referred to as heartless or even callous. he is unafraid to break a few eggs or step on a few heads. to those that know his reputation, he is said to have no care

can be envious at times, not that he actually shows it

rather cunning and able to deceive easily

merciless in his work and some aspects of his life. he has been said to have turned off his emotions. can be a tad bit sadistic

unpredictable, and willing to do whatever it takes to complete his goals

push him far enough and he’ll go erratic

the voices —

his personality may shift slightly depending on which rishen variant he glitches into ( refer to strengths )

 

꒰ with a lover ꒱

at times he falls himself falling into awkwardness when he wishes to be verbally affectionate. he wants to love bomb you and he tries to, but he sometimes doesn’t know how to, sometimes he also gets worried he may overwhelm you if he does — will try his very best to make sure you feel good always.

though in contrast to that of the above, he is very physically affectionate. he prefers expressing verbal affection through nicknames, and give physical affection to you to show all of his love for you.

the second you join him in bed at night, he all but clings onto you to fall asleep comfortable, and doesn’t want you to leave the bed too early in the mornings. he will miss your warmth and touch, and get a little moody as well possibly.

will cook for you whenever he has the time and will assure that all of the meals you get are nutritious and are ones you enjoy. just so that he can see you happy and at ease after long or hard days.

casts spells on you so that he knows where you are. . . he cannot help it, he is paranoid about your safety. he has lost too much to just let you wander alone, and oh he only hopes you do not think anything of it other than him wanting to keep you safe.

enjoys asking you riddles and confusing questions, it’s one of the way he messes with you. if you get it right he’ll sometimes reward you, which can be through a large assortment of affection. such as giving you kisses, sweets, trinkets, food, even more physical affection.

will paint henna on your hands, so you both have matching patterns. also because he loves to hold your hands and watch the patterns interlink and let people know you are hers

and oh this woman will stare at you for hours, ever so lovingly and with adoration. even when you catch her looking, you watch her melt, not physically, but through the softness of her stare. like you are made of the purest kind of happiness to her.

not only is he possessive, he’s paranoid. he can and will have a meltdown if he can’t get a hold of you and doesn’t know where you are, and in very severe times, he has kept you at home for a few days. assuring doors and locks are sealed shut.

secretly has sanguinist marks on you. . . he needs others to know to back off and not touch you. you are his, as he is yours. and he will not tolerate at all if anyone touched you.

will fight tooth and nail to keep you safe. you are the one who will actually drive him insane — it’s a price he’s willing to pay. especially because a particular phantom keeps stalking around every corner the two of you are. he needs to keep you close and safe. he has to.

 

꒰ strengths ꒱

sanguinist magic: a magic that flows from copper resentment himself and allows them to cast an array of spells, perform rituals and create defensive/offensive attacks

sanguinist necromancy: able to puppet people on the brink of death and the dead as well ( granted their soul is still nearby )

blood magic: don’t spill blood around a sanguinist. other than being able to harness it into dangerous attacks, high-level sanguinists can also manipulate a being through their blood

dark magic: knows various spells, rituals and curses in regards to dark magic

cultivator magic: born a cultivator, he is able to use cultivator magic; purifying, seals, rituals and other mystics

glitches: he has a special quirk. . . he is able to glitch into different versions of himself across the multiverse. mimicking both their appearance and abilities. he could be rishen 781, 209, 1311, 9948e and so many other rishens. . .

 

꒰ weaknesses ꒱

over-exertion: can tire himself out immensely with his magic

glitches: he does not have full control of them and it can spiral out of control

 

꒰ relationships ꒱

jìngyí verseless: complicated, bad terms

alessio 209: complicated

zhào hàoyŭ: enemy

zhào talisen 164: close companion, ‘god’

alessio agresta 164: close companion

alessio agresta arias 9948e: enemy

rishen aryielus 9948e: enemy

 

꒰ extra ꒱

he is known as the scarlet sentinel because he works as a ‘supernatural tracker’. being forced to hunt down his fellow supernaturals. not that he seems to mind.

context: in his world ( verse 9948v ), supernaturals are discriminated against and governed to such a degree that those that ‘hide’ or are considered ‘wanted’ are hunted down by law officials or other supernaturals that are coerced into it

plays the violin

he is a sanguinist, which is a group that serves copper resentment

he often composes music in his spare time ( sometimes he does so with blood )

has an incredibly big sweet tooth

quite well-known within the realm of abhorration

when he glitches into one of his variations, he becomes an exact replica of them, however with his own thoughts and quirks still