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raz-writes-the-thing · 2 months ago

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A Rather Short and Sharp Descent (Beetlejuice One-Shot)

Betelgeuse x AFAB!GN!Reader 18+ ONLY / requests are open

Summary: When you'd struck a deal with the demonic ghost, you'd not expected to fall for him. Perhaps less so, you hadn't expected to be tumbling quite down this path...

Fic Type: Smut (dumbification, daddy kink, slight degradation tw)

Everything Tag List: @winchxters @calliopesdiary

Betelgeuse Tag List: (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Had it been two hours or three? More? You can't remember- you can't even remember what time of the day it is. You can remember the magically altered sets of fingers and tongues that have thoroughly fucked you from the inside out, though.

It's not like he'd let you forget that, anyway.

“Aww, lookit that, dollface. Nothin’ in there, huh? Good. That’s the way ol’ Beej likes it. Doin’ a good job, babe.”

You tried to respond, but it just came out as a garbled moan.

"Yeah, that's it. Just a little fuckinnn mess for me, aintcha?"

Your brows pinched, mouth dropping open as his fingers felt like they pulsed inside you. They probably did, knowing him. Beej laughed above you, eyes glinting with sadistic pleasure. Oh, he was going to make you work for it.

"B-Beej," you drooled, and he pouted at you mockingly in response.

"Look atcha, tryin' to make sentences and everything. It'd be cute if it weren't so pathetic, huh?" Another second and his free hand swatted at your ass, the sting biting- not that you didn't love the pain. "Beej, Beej, Beej, huh? Yeah, you fuckin' love me an' my thick fuckin' cock, babe."

And you did. You couldn't wait for him to fuck you with it. That ache begging for him inside you was starting to make you antsy. Sure you had his physically altered fingers buried inside you, but it wasn’t the same. God, it would never be the same as having him leer over you, cock twitching from the inside.

Truth be told, you weren’t even sure how you’d managed to get yourself into this situation in the first place. You’d found a flyer that had quite literally blown into your face on the street one day and said the name three times with such disbelief that you had all but died of a heart attack when the being belonging to said name appeared so suddenly and with a ridiculous amount of theatrics.

Then it was on to the business of making deals, of course. Betelgeuse had let you know in his round-a-bout way that he’d noticed you had a pesky little problem that needed fixing and he was more than happy to do the job. There was, of course, just the matter of payment, though. Sure, he could scare the absolute fuck out of your roommate until they fucked off into the sunset but not without payment. Nothing much, not your soul or anything. No, what Betelgeuse wanted from you was, of all things… a kiss.

Naturally, you’d been suspicious that planting one (with tongue, as he had insisted) onto a demonic ghost with a penchant for absolute chaos wouldn’t come with any other side effects, such as selling your soul over or something. But a kiss? Just one kiss? Surely that wouldn’t be too bad.

As it turns out, it didn’t have any side effects that you were expecting. Instead, it led you down a path with a rather short and sharp descent into the circles of Hell. Sin, specifically. Either way, it was a short path with many tongues, fingers and cocks to ease your way down.

You didn’t even realise how fast you fell for him. Nor he for you, most likely. But soon enough he was around often enough that you couldn’t call it a fling any more. This was something different. You’d caught him sizing your ring finger the other night, actually. Eyeballing it, mostly, but you could tell what that eye meant.

“‘Ey, babe- you in there? Or are y’too fucked dumb to respond anymore, huh?”

You groaned, thoughts hazing in and out a little, though they were brought sharply into focus as he withdrew his fingers and stuck his rather long tongue out to lick them clean.

Seeing your hungry gaze, he offered them to you next—an offering you took up without an ounce of hesitation. Fuck, you tasted good.

Those very same fingers slid from your mouth and down around your throat, brushing against the thrum of your pulse beneath your soft, thin skin. It would take almost nothing for him to kill you. But he wouldn’t. He was too fond of you- his favourite Flesh Bag as he called you.

His eyes glinted above you, drinking in the sight of your spit-slick lips, red and swollen. Your throat pressed against his fingers, warmer than you’d expect for a dead man. Slowly, softly, he pushed you down onto your back, legs bent and spread wide for him to slot his hips between.

Finally, finally, you were going to get what you needed.

“Uh-uh, my precious little dummy, not yet. You think you deserve this cock? D’you really? Think hard on it now, hard as I know that is for your empty little brain.”

“Y-yes,” you replied almost instantly, trying to roll your hips against him- trying to goad him into fucking you dumb just the way you like. Well. Dumber.

“‘Y-yes’ what, babe?”

Risking a glance at his expression, your mouth practically watered at the carnal look there. Dark, hungry. He wanted this just as much as you did. Needed it, even, perhaps.

“Yes, daddy.”

“That’s it. That’s fuckin’ it, babe. Fuckin daddy-o, that’s me.”

You rolled your eyes, starting to come out of the haze a little now despite the slap of his cock against your clit. He was doing it to tease you, the fucker.

“Beej, if you don’t hurry up and fuck me, I might go genuinely insane.”

“Ladies and gents,” Betelgeuse snorted, talking to an invisible audience. “Can’t keep ‘em off me, eh? Desperate little thing. Cute though.”

But despite the pleasure he usually got from torturing you from hours on end (you think as if he hadn’t just spent the last two to three hours fingerfucking you to oblivion), he gave in, softly rolling his hips against you- sinking inside so slowly you almost felt like yelling at him to just hurry up.

“Ohh, fuck me,” you moaned, head dropping back against the pillows as he finally sunk completely inside you. The thing about Beej was that he was always able to alter any of his shapes to be exactly what you needed when you needed it. And today, he knew you wanted someone on the larger side. Not that you wouldn’t be happy with average, either, but sometimes there was just a need for something a little more specific. Beej knew that, too.

“Alright, alright,” he huffed amusedly, punctuating the sentence with one of his very unique laughs. “Shut up for me a sec, babe,” he said, placing a hand over your mouth as he pulled back and slammed back against you. “Yeah, that’s it.”

He set a punishing pace, eyes rolling quite literally into the back of his head with pleasure. While the object of torture had been you over the last few hours, there was some element of torture for him, too, not being able to sink balls deep into your tight little cunt and fuck you until he was sated. But not anymore.

Slowly as he fucked you, his hand slipped from your mouth, allowing your pretty moans to escape into the heated air. Betelgeuse moaned, running his hand down your throat and down your side to grip at your hip. His fingers squeezed harshly into the soft muscle there, and you tilted your hips as best as you could to rock back against him.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Betelgeuse groaned, leaning down to shower sharp bites down your neck and shoulders. He always had been a biter. There was something about the contrast of the blood coming to the surface under the skin, the way those indents slowly softened into pretty bruises spreading across your skin like a grim meadow that drove him insane. “Not gonna last long, babe.”

That was okay with you, you weren’t going to last long either. You hadn’t realised how fast you were approaching your orgasm- and the deadline skyrocketed closer as his hand disappeared between your legs where you were most sensitive.

“God, fuck, Beej- I, fuck, like that, please,” you cried out, reaching out to encircle your arms around his shoulders. You pulled him down and over you. From an outside perspective, you were absolutely sure that he would look like a violent predator about to rip apart his prey.

His hips fucked into you without mercy, fingers rubbing against your most sensitive area. Your mouth was open in a practically permanent ‘o’- something that Betelgeuse took full advantage of as his lips landed on yours. His tongue flicked at your lower lip and it was that in conjunction with the savage thrust of his hips and non-stop-just-right fingers that catapulted you right over that edge.

With a cry you weren’t sure actually made any sound or not, you felt your pleasure bubble over like a boiling pot on a stove, spilling over the edges and roiling up your spine. You could feel your orgasm all the way in your toes and even in your scalp, you realised distantly.

Oh, wait, no, that was Betelgeuse’s fingers knotted in your hair, pulling as he chased his own orgasm now, hips choppy yet brutal. Every thrust forced your orgasm out longer, tingles of pleasure shooting through your nerves even as you started to come down from it.

“Oh, oh, yeah, that’s it, babe. Fuckin little toy for daddy, aintcha- yeah,” he rambled with pleasure, eyes screwed tight as he finally, finally came-

You sagged into the bed as he slowly stopped thrusting, cock still inside you. With a grunt, he laid down on top of you, forcing a grunt out of you as he did so. Your hand raised lazily to rub at his back.

“Fuck, Beej,” you panted, eyes drifting closed as the glow started to overtake you. “You’re going to ruin me.”

Betelgeuse snorted playfully, already starting to recover. He had a freaky ability to be able to go, and go, and go- and then barely need rest afterwards. Perks of being dead, you supposed.

“What, like I ain’t already?”

Well, you couldn’t argue with that.

#beetlejuice x reader #Betelgeuse x reader #Betelgeuse x you #beetlejuice x you #beetlejuice fic #Betelgeuse fic #beetlejuice smut #betelgeuse smut

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rooksamoris · 7 months ago

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💞 — 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.

💞 — in which you try to unionize the mostro lounge, but the boss, azul, just happens to be your boyfriend.

💞 — azul ashengrotto x reader

💞 — warnings: just a little suggestive, not explicit.

💞 — 1.6k words.

“No, you guys—we need to fight for our rights. By any means necessary,”

Jade and Floyd looked at you in amusement and annoyance, respectively. You could not be seriously trying to unionize the Mostro Lounge. Azul was probably the most pro-capitalist/anti-union guy on campus. He had justified roping you, his beloved, into working overtime with the excuse of “it's for the profit motive, sweetheart” and yet you still stupidly thought you could manage to unionize his establishment? It was cute.

The more sneaky of the twins laughed, politely hiding his grin behind his immaculately gloved hand, “And you plan to do this how?” he asked.

A blush of embarrassment trailed up your neck and to your ears. You had very little experience with grassroots organizing—which meant you were drawing a blank, “Uhm—I don’t know. We… uh… we should make demands and find a cool name for our union,”

“Unions schmunions—let's just not come to work,” whined Floyd.

You shook your head, “We need a union before we try going on strike… uhm, how about ‘Night Raven Labor Organization’? It rhymes and would look good on a flyer,” you suggested, placing your fist in your palm. You were embarrassingly desperate at this point. Your boyfriend was constantly tricking you into working sickeningly long hours for him, claiming it was fine since you guys were dating and he helped you pass alchemy—but still.

Jade was entertained, so he indulged in your theatrics, “Oh, that sounds wonderful. Do not worry yourself over the flyers, I… I will handle that,” he said, purposefully pausing just to watch the suspicion creep into your mind.

Before you could reject him, Floyd stood and lazily draped his arms over your shoulders, “You know, you’re gonna break Azul’s heart, being against him like this,” he said, a sudden toothy grin coming over his features at the thought of what chaos could come from your silly plan, “Standing against your ‘sweet Zuzu’ for the working class,”

You frowned at him, “We–well, something needs to be done, even if it means his feelings are mildly hurt.”

The plan was in motion. You had already gone ahead and spoken with the other employees at the lounge, and while most were apprehensive—fear of Azul was pretty common—some still believed that you could convince your boyfriend to be kinder to his workers. Jade had told you he made flyers, and you were heading over to the lounge to go check them out, and then meet up with the others for the meeting.

But the moment you walked in, Floyd shoved you towards the office with a giddy grin, “Shrimpy’s in trouble…” he whispered.

You stiffened, “Huh? What do you mean? Floyd—”

“Azul wants to talk to you,” he told you, knocking on the office door before scurrying off, leaving you to gulp and adjust your necktie.

Azul opened the door with a suave grin, gently wrapping his arm around you, his hand lingering at the small of your back, “Ah, sweetheart,” he said, affectionately kissing your temple. He pulled you inside, shutting the door with his foot before guiding you towards one of the sofas in his office, “You’re looking as gorgeous as ever,” he added, pouring you a glass of fruit cordial before taking his seat across from you, his hands folded on his cane and his legs crossed.

You always hated how smooth he was, “Ahaha…” he laughed awkwardly, “Uhm… you wanted to talk?”

One of his brows raised, “Do I need an excuse to see my beloved?”

“O–Oh, no, of course not—I just mean—”

His laugh cut you off. Sevens, how you loved that laugh, “You’re so nervous…” he trailed off, his bluish-purple eyes tracing over the ceiling before making their way towards your eyes, a single brow raised.

You were nervous. Hell, this was the most bizarre experience ever. You were unionizing your boyfriend’s establishment—you spent the night in his dorm room, just for you to wake up the next day and have secret meetings with his employees. You were ashamed, but not enough to quit the union. Azul had been abusing his power for too long now. Your lips had parted to speak, but you were cut off when he slammed two papers on the coffee table.

One was a flyer with a pig-like depiction of the bourgeoisie, dressed in a fancy suit and surrounded by money, and the second was the union demands which you were supposed to go over with the other employees today.

“Azul—I… I can explain—”

“How cute.” Azul gently tapped his foot as he watched your face fill with horror at being caught too early, “For a union organizer, you’re pretty disorganized. You trusted Jade with the flyers? The fact that you trusted Jade with anything is just hilarious,” he said, letting his cane lean against the sofa. He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward.

“Listen, Azul…” you started, before he cut you off, with a mere raise of the hand. That bastard Jade—

He cleared his throat before picking up the page of demands, “‘We members of the Night Raven Labor Organization…’ did you come up with the name, love? It’s nice. It rhymes, seems you do pay attention to my marketing rambles. Anyways, ‘We members of the Night Raven Labor Organization are proposing a chance of bargaining before any attempts of protest or striking,’ ooh, look at you, threatening me. How adorable,” he said, grinning at your embarrassed face.

You hid your face behind your hands, groaning softly as your face started to feel extremely hot. You peeked at your boyfriend through your fingers, seeing that smug smile on his face, “Azul… this was a last resort,” you tried to explain, but he only set the page down and stood up again.

It was not like you did anything wrong. He was overworking his employees—he’s lucky you did not go Karl Marx on the guy and encourage the workers to arm themselves against him. When you met his eyes again, he was standing in front of you, gazing down at your seated form with a neutral expression.

He was thinking of how to proceed. On one hand, you were the love of his life, and on the other hand, you were working against him. When he first heard of it, he was hurt, but after some reflection, he knew he could make you give up on this.

With a gloved hand, Azul traced over your face, enjoying the way you looked when you sat in front of him, gazing up as he stood. His hand cupped your jaw, thumb lazily tracing over your bottom lip. His pale skin was covered with a little blush over how your breath hitched, “You wouldn’t want to hurt me, would you?” he asked, leaning closer.

You shook your head as much as you could while in his grasp, “No, Azul… it's just—well, uhm, you know,” he stammered.

He played up a soft frown on his lips, and he felt your eyes trail to the beauty mark beneath his lip, “But, angel… when I saw that you were unionizing behind my back,” he paused, and sighed, brows furrowing slightly. He played you like a fiddle, “I was just so hurt,” he confessed. In reality, Azul did not care enough to be brokenhearted over your union attempts.

“I’m sorry, Azul,” you told him, and you were about to protest again, but he shook his head.

“If you had concerns, you could have just told me,” You bit your tongue, despite how you wanted to tell him that you had tried to complain to him and he put the profit motive above everything else. Instead, you just pouted and nodded to his words. You couldn’t help it. All you wanted to do now was kiss him since he got so close.

Azul’s hand remained on your face as he glanced back at the flyer, “And a fat rich man, angel? Really?”

“I didn’t make the flyers,” you blurted.

His gaze softened. He had you right where he wanted you, nodding to your words to make you relax before he leaned down and kissed your head. And then he bent down a bit to meet your lips, kissing you like you wanted. Azul’s hand slipped from your jaw to your shoulder, while his other hand rested at the backrest of the sofa so that he could lean down.

Your hands immediately darted to grab him closer, tugging on his uniform blazer as your lips parted for breath, “Azul….”

He was blushing too, lips parted as he panted to catch his breath, “I thought I was an evil capitalist—what happened to your union?” he asked, teasing you.

Your brows furrowed softly and just pulled him in again, capturing his lips once again and groaning against his lips as you took the chance to take control, pulling him down on the sofa with you.

Azul’s eyes widened in surprise, his hat slipping off and his glasses nearly joining if he hadn’t held them up in time.

You showed up to the union meeting late, with your clothes all disheveled and your hair a mess.

“My, my,” chuckled Jade, as he took in your appearance with his piercing eyes. He knew that this would all end up like this, with you being too quick to bend to the will of his boss, and his boss being manipulative enough to get you to forget about your ambitious goals.

Floyd frowned, “Does this mean we’re not getting guns to threaten the capitalist class??”

Sevens, what a major fail.

©rooksamoris 2024. do not steal or translate my work!

#💖 — amoris writes #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul x reader #octavinelle #floyd #floyd leech #jade #jade leech #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #azul ashengrotto x reader

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shslbunnylover · 11 months ago

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★★★𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙩 (12 𝙙𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙁𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙢𝙖𝙨 𝘿𝙖𝙮 1: 𝙃𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙮 𝙜𝙖𝙢𝙚)★★★

Character: Melissa Schemmenti

Taglist: @inlovewithgreta (Message me to be a part of the taglist until I get a page set up!!)

Trigger warnings (DL, DI): N/a

Genre: Fluff

A/n: Welcome to the first day of Fluffmas! We're starting off strong with the lovely Melissa Schemmenti and a hockey game prompt!

Word count: 2.4k

...

A shot of cold air hit your face, sending your already reddened nose and cheeks into a state of more frigidity. You shivered slightly, your eyes narrowing to avoid the snowflakes falling into them, leaving the snow to cluster up on your soft eyelashes.

"Thanks for coming Hon, I know hockey isn't really your thing," Melissa spoke up, looking over at you and a slight smile pulling at her lips at the sight of you all bundled up in her coat and scarf.

You open your eyes slightly to see your girlfriend more, matching her smile as a slight warmth finally comes to your cheeks in stark contrast to the icy air around the two of you.

"My love, you know I'd always come to support your family. After all, it's not every day that one of your girlfriend's friend plays for the flyers!" You chuckled, pulling up the zipper on your (Melissa's) coat despite it already being zipped up all the way.

"I guess that's true," The woman next to you chuckled, tilting her head to look up at the sky that had been covered in a sea of white. "But he's technically just one of my guys,"

You roll your eyes,

"Are you sure we couldn't have parked any closer?" You groan with a slight smirk, leaning forward in a dramatic manner as you felt your feet beginning to cramp up from how long you had been walking. "You get us free flyers tickets, but can't park closer than 30 yards?"

"Do you not see all these fucking cars?" Melissa asked, pointing over at the hundreds of cars filling the parking spaces up one by one with a raise eyebrow.

"Yes Mel, I see them," You roll your eyes in a joking manner, throwing your head back for the theatrical effect as you stood up straight once again. "But tell me this isn't a long walk,"

The redhead nods with a laugh,

"But look, we're here," She chuckled, gesturing to the building in front of you before opening the door for the two of you.

"Thanks baby," You spoke before placing a kiss on her cold lips, watching them curling up into a big goofy smile before walking into the not much hotter building, looking at the closed off hockey arena.

"Of course sweetheart," Melissa smirked, grabbing you by your waist as she led you to your seats that she had gotten with the rest of her family.

"Hey!! There's our favorite couple!" Leo smiled, kissing you on each cheek before doing the same to your girlfriend.

"Miss Teresa," You nodded at your future mother-in-law with a smile, blushing softly and retreating into your coat a bit as she rolled her eyes with a groan.

"Hon, I told youse to call me Teresa, no need for formalities," She chuckled, gesturing for you and Melissa to sit down next to her.

The older woman wrapped her arm around you, placing a kiss on your cheek as her cold red hair tickled your cheeks.

"You excited to see him play?" Melissa asked, pressing her nose against your temple before backing away to look you in the eyes.

You nod with a bright smile.

"I am, I do wish it was warmer though!" You giggled, pressing your mittens up against your cheeks for a sense of warmth. "But then again the ice would probably melt,"

The green-eyed woman simply chuckled, bringing you closer to her before leaning her head on your shoulder.

"Y'know Schemmenti, you're all sappy with me outside of school, but you haven't even told Barb about us," You teased her,

"You know I'm just waiting for the right time, plus, I don't need Janine fussin' about it. I also don't need Jacob and her knowin' my business," Melissa rolled her eyes in response.

You sighed with a slight giggle, understanding of your redhead's hesitation.

"So when does it start?" You asked, looking down at the ice rink that was currently being polished by the giant Zamboni.

"A couple minutes, Vinny told me they'll be starting in about 10, say...where is he?"

Teresa simply shrugged her shoulders, allowing for you to cock your eyebrow at her sudden lack for tightness when it came to being on time.

Melissa seemed to share your confusion but brushed it off as she continued to wrap her arm around you. You sighed in content, looking at the giant illuminated clock in the arena as you internally counted down the minutes to when the game would begin.

After about 15 minutes had passed, the two teams began to enter the rink, positioning themselves to their starting lineup. You still didn't know where Vinny was, and at this point you kind of didn't care and mainly planned on paying attention to the game.

You covered your ears at the sound of the whistle blowing, looking over at Melissa and smiling at how cute she looked focusing on the game.

Your lovesick thoughts were interrupted by a sudden vibration on your thigh and the now turned-on screen of your phone showing a text message from Janine.

"Janine?" You muttered to yourself, your voice not loud enough to draw Melissa's attention to it.

Janine: Hey Y/N! I'm watching the game with the Abbott crew! Hoping to see you and Melissa on TV!

You chuckled, typing out a funny reply about how you had accidentally gotten a seat next to Melissa before shutting off your phone, watching the screen go black before turning your eyes to the players fighting over the puck with their sticks.

Melissa had announced she was going to the flyers game, not mentioning you also coming with her as her girlfriend, so you also told your work friends that you were going as well just in case any of them spotted you on TV. At this point, the whole string of lies was working.

"Oh come on!" The 2nd grade teacher exclaimed in frustration along with the rest of the people around you as one of the players for the flyers screwed up a very easy shot.

You giggled slightly, noticing how Melissa's anger softened at your endearing nature.

"Think I could play better than some of them?" Melissa asked you, licking her lips to rehydrate them from the cold.

"You could definitely beat one of them, you're good, but not as good as you are at baseball," You replied, bending over the arm rest of the seat to press your lips against her hair.

"That's true," She smirked.

You looked off to your right, still trying to figure out where Vinny was, but not letting it overwhelm your thoughts.

'That idiot is late again, I can't wait to see Melissa bust his ass...hopefully with words...I can't watch him get another bloody nose from her,' You thought, shuffling your body to stand up right, looking at the arena once more.

You looked at the at the giant cube of screens in the middle of the celling, your eyes glossing over each of the screens before turning to look back at the players.

"Oh my god you idiota!" You heard Teresa exclaim, making you chuckle, leaning forward as you heard the woman curse the young men on the ice out in Italian.

"Your mother may be better at insulting hockey players than you however," You giggled, placing your hand on Melissa's thigh as you continued to laugh before regaining your composure.

"Oh now that is definitely true, I've been hearing it since I came out the womb," Melissa replied, looking at her mom. "Right Ma?"

"It wasn't my fault those dumb eagles decided to give up a touchdown!" The older woman retorted.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever Ma," Your girlfriend rolled her eyes, resting her head on her hand as she shook it in fake exasperation.

The minutes passed, and you were sure your hearing almost passed as well from the angry yelling from the two women next to you, but you didn't mind. Once the sound around you had gone from yelling to cheering, you glanced up at the collection of screens to see the score, and your eyes could only widen when you saw your face with Melissa's on the kiss cam.

"Um...Mel..." You muttered, tapping her shoulder before pointing at the giant screen, the two of you listening as the cheers of people watching all around the stadium filling your ears whilst you blushed furiously.

"What the hell?!" The redheaded woman exclaimed as she looked at you, confused as there usually weren't kiss cams at the games she went to. "Sorry Hon, I ain't doing this, you know the rest of Abbott is watching," She looked at the camera with an angry glare.

You immediately nodded.

"Yeah, don't worry, I don't wanna tell anyone without you being 100% ready," You said with an understanding nod, your face reddening as you heard the boos of people as the kiss cam returned to the close-up cameras.

"Oh fuck off would youse?!" Melissa exclaimed, making you only more embarrassed.

"Mel, they're just being cupid for a day, let 'em," Teresa chuckled, looking at your girlfriend with a smirk that felt almost mischevious.

"Uh uh- No way, I am not revealin' my relationship to the world on one of these fuckin' things," The green-eyed woman replied with a glare sent towards her mother that made you laugh into your coat. "And besides Ma! You don't like these things either!"

Her mother simply hummed in reply, taking a sip of her hot chocolate (Prosecco).

Melissa nor you were sure exactly what was going on as the kiss cam was on you two for a second time, but you both knew that the redhead was about to take a hockey stick to the person controlling it from how mad (Flustered) she was.

"What the fuck is going on? I- Ma!" Your girlfriend shouted with reddened cheeks at the sight of her mother bending over dying of laughter.

"Teresa!!" You squeaked. "This isn't funny!"

"Just kiss you two! You're dating for ravioli's sake!" She cackled.

"I already told you I'm not letting the people at Abbott see me kiss her till I want them to!"

"And that'll be after Christ's second coming Melissa, just kiss the poor girl! She's blushing like a maniac over there!" Tereasa continued to laugh as she pointed at you.

You simply breathed a sigh of relief as you noticed the screen had changed a couple of seconds ago, ignoring the dying out boos from the crowd.

"Teresa, she'll kiss me in front of people eventually, she loves me," You managed to stutter out,

"Exactly," Melissa mumbled, pressing her lips to your hair as there was no more camera pointed at you two.

As the game got more intense, you on-looked your girlfriend continuing to analyze each of the players movements, occasionally looking up at the screens to get a closer view of each and every shot and pass made. You felt like a magnet drawn to her, but in your head, you wouldn't have it any other way.

"What's that look for Hon?" She asked you, catching on to your lingering stares at her focused eyes and furrowed brows.

"Nothing, I just really, really love you," You smiled, not meaning anything behind it other than pure adoration for her, which she picked up as she always did.

"What do ya want?" Melissa teased, her expression turning more into loving expression as she watched you giggle.

That was her favorite sound after all, your laugh. She'd do anything to hear it.

"Hey lovebirds!" You heard the voice of your mother-in-law exclaim, drawing your vision to the kiss camera once more.

"Oh my god," You chuckled, rolling your eyes once again, looking at Melissa with a smile. "It just won't leave us alone will it?"

The redhead simply remained silent, looking at the camera before looking at you with a soft smile. She leaned forward, caressing you hand as she wrapped her other around your neck. You could feel her the warmth radiating off her cheeks from your bodies inching closer towards each other.

"I think it's telling me to stop being a coward and start loving you out loud like my girl deserves," She whispered before moving the hand that was holding yours to your chin and pulling your lips together.

You felt your eyes flutter shut, your brain going a million miles an hour, to say you were shocked was an understatement. But for a moment, your brain told itself to shut up and just love the woman back.

Pulling your lips away from each other once the crowd had quieted down it's cheering, you looked at Melissa with a loving gaze.

"Melissa," You smiled, your eyes looking at her as if the redhead touching you wasn't real, but just a figment of your imagination too good to be true.

"Y/n, I love you," The older woman pressed her lips against your forehead, leaving a warm feeling in your body before she pulled away slightly. "I'm sorry I never showed it,"

Your smile quickly turned sympathetic the moment you saw an uncharacteristic guilt wash over her facial features.

"You're okay, after all, I wouldn't want to be bothered about my relationship by everyone I knew because of some sudden PDA and all that," You reassured her, tucking a red curl behind her ear.

Melissa simply chuckled, the guilt falling from her face as she laughed.

"But yeah, you do know we're gonna be interrogated by Janine and literally everyone else at Abbott tomorrow, right?" You smirked, pulling up your phone to show all of the messages clouding your lock screen.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," The redhead sighed, pulling you closer to her by wrapping her arm around your shoulder.

You simply leaned into her embrace, looking up at her with eyes of adoration.

"I wonder why it kept picking on us," You pondered, your thoughts returning to the hockey game in front of you.

"Yeah, I wonder," Teresa muttered under her breath with a knowing smirk, looking up at the press box before giving a slight nod.

"Thanks Ted," Vinny smirked back at his aunt as he handed the camera man a stack of cash.

...

If you enjoyed reading this, don't forget to like, reblog and comment! Thank you and you are loved <3

-Akira

#Melissa Schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary #lesbian #bisexual #pansexual #wlw #nblw #wlw ns/fw #nblw ns/fw #wlw and nblw only #fluff #12 days of ficmas #12 days of Fluffmas #shslbunnylover #Akira writes

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jiminsass-istant · 4 months ago

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WHO MV ANALYSIS: BRILLIANT STORY TELLING, QUEER CODING AND MORE

I have a lot to say. And yes i positively feel like a clown that this post comes right after jimin said "go ahead, misinterpret everything hehe". This might be a long one, so settle in. Also, if you are looking for this as some kind of validation for any ship, I'm afraid it might not serve that purpose (BUT keep reading!). This is simply an analysis of MV elements and cinematography in its purest form appreciating the brilliant work done by Lumpens and his assistant directors.

Part 1: Start of the story of a man in search of love

Let's start from the very beginning. Many of you have already figured out that Jimin is telling a story here (I'm not wrong yet Jimin, dammit). How do we know this? Look at that mini TV. Yes, this mini TV is actually our bookmark, our storyteller. In it's first appearance, it says "play" with a man walking at a normal pace, imitating jimin here, who is also walking.

Elements to notice here:-

The 'ONLY' signs on the road which mean these roads have only limited accessibility when it comes to directions. In my opinion, it symbolizes the rules that this world imposes on us. And here comes jimin whining/asking why he hasn't met 'her' even if he sees her at night? (imagines her) and thinks about her.

2. Also notice how it says "BLISS" on the neon sign but the world he's in is basically pre-tornado winds - there are papers flying, cars on fire, safety barrier tapes, even the mini TV is on fire. The flyer for the song says "who is!! Tornado of love" and basically serves as a warning that the 'tornado of love' is approaching soon.

3. Reference to 'Closer' (than this?) on the billboard with a man on it. Looks like a reference to a movie or song of 1995 which I haven't been able to find out yet. [help me]

Part 2: Searching gets more desperate

Moving on, we see Jimin entering the part of street with an old, dilapidated building in the background (so much to notice here!!)

Elements to look out:

Firstly, look at the mini TV which still says 'play' but the man in the TV is now running instead of walking. Just like how Jimin's steps are faster now, he's on his search for 'her', but he's getting desperate.

Notice the engineers in the background? Yes they are engineers- they have plans, measuring devices etc. And they are working to "renovate" the building. Interesting choice of scene right before a tornado... let's found out why-

Notice that on the right side to the entrance of this building, there's "B-1" written on the walls, but one could also read it at "13 1" At first glance, that's what it seemed like to me. I think people renovating a building whose name looks like a "13" is symbolism for jimin trying to heal/renovate/repair his heart/emotions/past traumas. It's about him still being in that phase where he is healing/ trying to heal himself by trying to find 'her' OR maybe he's trying to find 'her' when he is not even completely healed himself.

See the TV on the shopping cart on fire because it will be referenced later. Put a pin on it.

Part-3 Theatrics

With a flash of retro cable TV like lights, the perspective changes - as in now you are watching inside the mini TV. I'm talking about this part, when he changes direction and goes to the girl. So many interesting things happen, I'm giddy thinking about writing it.

Elements to notice:

I can't help but think of the words 'auto calibration ' that flashes right before Jimin does that cunty choreo with the female dancer. 'auto calibration ' literally means 'standardization' or 'correction' . I don't think people realise how queer coded it is. 'coded' being the keyword here. It could also mean 'standardized' as in the way we view idols as these perfect people with perfect dating lives.

3. The car is on fire- so yeah whatever is happening cannot be good. Everything is still chaotic and doesn't make it easy

2. The mini TV now shows various images with a heart '<3' symbolizing that he is engaging in some kind of relationship, but this is literally the biggest 'drama' ever. Because look at this scene- it's pure cinema..

"So many people to see" - people watching them date/engage while making a whole show out of it. There's also an ambulance nearby because obviously an idol's dating life shown to the public can leave people hurt and offended. As Jimin and the girl dance, they are literally in front of a local theatre called the 'OASIS'. My interpretation is that a celeb's dating life is literally 'theatrics' for the public. They are reduced to nothing but characters for entertainment, and worst part is that the public isn't happy either. No wonder, making it extremely difficult for Jimin to find true love. Special mention where the girl has him in a chokehold, quite literally an uncomfortable position, entangled with each other- or at least that's how the public views them.

3) In the same scene we see that the mini TV has tumbled down along with the shopping cart which was on fire, hence setting the car on fire too lol. Brilliant attention to detail.

Part-4 - where Jimin gets more desperate to find true love (in the past!)

As soon as the dancers leave, we see the huge billboard fall down and if i go with all the clues we have been getting, especially the travel show...it is WILD.

Because people are focusing on the possible OST called "Keep going", but DO YOU NOT REALISE HOW HUGE IT IS THAT JK IS REFERENCED IN A ROMANTIC SONG? dropping from the sky with 'who' written on it??!! "Who" without the questions or exclamations. I'll let you go delulu mode on that one. Moving on-

You must have noticed that to show a change in phase/scene, they have used multicolored flashes and change to 90s TV perspective. The same happens now after the billboard drops but the important thing to notice is the "rewind" on the screen now. Which basically means jimin going through different people is a thing of the past.

3. The crow/raven seen multiple times in the MV. Either way, a crow or raven is not something we see at night. They come out only at times of 'unnatural exceptions' like storms, earthquakes etc because they are not nocturnal creatures. While Jimin was trying to find love, there was definitely something happening which wasn't natural for him or was out of his comfort zone/he was not himself.

4. Another instance of queer coding I noticed was both men and women walking past him, similar to Like Crazy MV. It had a different symbolism in LC because he was trying to stay in the dream. But here people walking past him clearly means possible romantic partners. And he keeps stopping, keeps trying his luck with different people, almost always failing. OR- it could mean there are people of both genders walking past him but he never goes for the men in the past.

Part-5 - The tornado of love finally arrives

Now it says 'Play' on the screen meaning we are now in the present again. The tornado has built up, Jimin looks more confident, more smug as the tornado gains momentum behind him.

A flash of light, fireworks erupt as he sings his heart out. Even after the tornado is completely gone, the sparks and short circuits and destruction continues, meaning the 'tornado of love' arrived and certainly did a number on him.

Finally, we see him on a much calmer path. All cars lined up. He owns his life now. The situation is under control, the cars with lights on, ready to go.

I truly appreciate the storytelling in WHO MV. Lumpens Sir delivering as always. And I would love to know which things were Jimin's ideas but he wouldn't share that with us would he?

Let me know what you think and discuss in the comments if you want to.

#park jimin #jimin #jikook #youtube #bts jimin #jimin music #park jimin muse #bangtan boys

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lookingfts · 1 month ago

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Talking about the fics I've written but not shared inspired me to go through my Unfinished Fics folder. Some of these are drabbles that I never posted, some of them are snippets of fics I never finished (and likely will never finish), but I'm going to share them today!

The first one is a fic where Kate is a cafe owner and Anthony plays at her open mic nights. I only really wrote the first scene (using The Night We Met before I used it in Sugar, lol.)

“Was this a stupid idea? Didi, am I actually an idiot?”

Kate rolled her eyes at Edwina’s theatrics as she wiped down the milk frother with a worn rag. “Of course not. It’ll go great, okay?”

She genuinely had no idea whether her idea would flop or not, but Kate wasn’t going to let on. She’d been trying to get Edwina to be more involved in the shop for months, and this was the first thing her sister had seemed genuinely excited about, even designing flyers and promoting the event online.

And if it did flop – if no one performed, or everyone was a talentless hack – it would be awkward but amusing, and they would never do it again. Kate hoped that wouldn’t be the case, of course, because new events had real potential to help their business, and she hated to picture the disappointment on Edwina’s face. Failure might build character, but Kate wasn’t quite ready to expose her sister to the harsh realities of the world so soon. Within those four walls, at least, she wanted to keep it at bay a little longer.

Kate felt Edwina’s anxiety rubbing off on her and waved her hand in the general direction of the tables. “We still have an hour. Go clean something and work off your nervous energy.”

Eddie bounced off to do just that as Kate stifled a yawn against her wrist. It had been a slower day, the foot traffic diminished by a steady drizzle of rain, which had fortunately stopped thirty minutes ago. They normally closed at eight but were staying open until ten, ready with decaf and homemade pastries delivered by Sophie that afternoon.

Even though mornings were their busiest time, Kate had always liked the atmosphere of the shop after dark. The aging brick walls and overstuffed leather chairs felt even more homey in the dim glow of the string lights crisscrossing the wooden rafters. During the day, her patrons were grabbing coffee or tea in a rush to somewhere else or camping out for the day to work anywhere but their cramped flats. At night, people were reading – or attempting to write – books. Chatting nervously on first dates. Business was slower, but Kate didn’t mind when the world slowed down a bit too.

Gradually, people started to filter in and take their seats, the sign-up sheet filling with names. Edwina seemed to relax at that and came back behind the counter to help Kate with the incoming orders. She spotted a few regulars, but was pleased to notice new faces as well.

“Hi, erm – do you still have spots for the open mic night?”

Kate nodded, pointing to the sheet without looking up. “Add your name there, everyone is performing in the order they signed up. The show starts in twenty minutes, would you like to order something?”

“Okay. Thanks. Espresso?”

“Sure, do you want-.” Kate’s sentence cut off abruptly as she finally glanced up, her mind going momentarily blank. Mr. Espresso was – striking, to say the least. He had a guitar case slung over his dark grey t-shirt, curly brown hair that swooped across his forehead in that way that seemed incidental but probably took quite a bit of effort, a jaw that could cut glass and dark eyes that were watching her so shrewdly that it was mildly disconcerting. “Uh, a pastry or something?”

“No, thank you.” He tugged his card out of his wallet and tapped it against the reader as Kate mentally chided herself. Since when was she into guitar boys? Ugh.

Fortunately, the odds were good that the spell would be broken the second he got on stage and broke out a mediocre cover of the white-man staple Wonderwall.

He waited by the counter as she quickly made his espresso, purposefully limiting eye contact with him lest she horribly embarrass herself again. Kate slid his cup across the faux marble surface, telling herself that she was just being polite as she muttered, “Good luck.”

“Thank you.” He took his coffee and found a seat near the corner. Kate allowed herself to indulge in one last glance before she was swept up in a new wave of last-minute attendees.

The crowd settled as Edwina directed the first performer onto the little platform they’d set up as a stage, with sound equipment rented from the music store down the street. Kate had counted sixteen sign-ups on the sheet, more than she was anticipating. They were, to her utter relief, mostly good. Two people, one man and one woman, performed five-minute standup sets about their spouses, only to reveal at the end, to much applause and laughter, that they were married to each other. Three read poems; their own, she thought, though Kate wasn’t familiar enough with poetry to know for sure. There were plenty of musicians, of course, a violinist and the typical singer-songwriters with varying degrees of vocal talent. One person did magic tricks. Edwina beamed through the whole thing.

“Please welcome Anthony Bridgerton!” Eddie said into the microphone after the magician had done his grand finale with a disappearing coin.

Mr. Espresso – Anthony, apparently – positioned himself on the wooden stool on stage and checked his guitar. The audience cheered and he grinned shyly. “Thank you. I don’t perform that often, so forgive me if my nerves get the best of me.”

Kate didn’t know if she bought the whole nervous act from a man with that bone structure, but it was clearly working. A redhead in the front looked like she might throw her bra on stage, and he hadn’t even started singing yet. Kate noticed that he had his guitar case closed, a rarity among the other starving artists who had kindly requested tips.

“This song is from Lord Huron, it’s called The Night We Met.” Anthony took a deep breath and Kate was lost from the first note.

I am not the only traveler Who has not repaid his debt I've been searching for a trail to follow again Take me back to the night we met

It was a lovely song, one Kate didn’t know but was certain she would listen to again. Anthony’s voice was good, soft and deep, a little raspy in the way Kate usually liked. But it was the emotion he was spilling into the lyrics that captured her attention. She was almost certain that someone’s ghost lived behind every word.

And then I can tell myself What the hell I'm supposed to do And then I can tell myself Not to ride along with you

I had all and then most of you Some and now none of you Take me back to the night we met

He looked up, his gaze locking with hers. Kate’s breathing hitched roughly in her chest. Those eyes that had been watching her too carefully before, dissecting and analyzing her, it had seemed, were downright devastating now. She found herself unable to move, pinned in place by the heartbreak that lanced his voice and traveled along the sharp contours of his face, triggering something in her stomach that Kate couldn’t recall feeling before.

When the night was full of terrors And your eyes were filled with tears When you had not touched me yet Oh, take me back to the night we met

I had all and then most of you Some and now none of you Take me back to the night we met

He reached the final chords and the song faded out. The fervent clapping, interspersed with a few whistles, snapped Kate out of her trance and she jerked back as if she’d been burned. Anthony wasn’t looking at her any longer, smiling down at his new, primarily female fans in the front row, and – oh.

She was really falling victim to the musician cliché, wasn’t she? He’d probably learned guitar to pick up women, not that Kate thought he had any problem with that to begin with, and she was just one of the many women in the crowd who had gotten caught up in his magnetism. Truly pathetic, honestly. It wasn’t often that Kate allowed herself to be swept away like that.

It was natural, of course. Musicians had an inherently sexy quality about them, and Kate had not exactly been drowning in male attention as of late. He might have a real shot at being successful, if he could win over even a card-carrying cynic like her.

Edwina announced the next act, and Kate got back to work, willing her heartbeat to settle.

#lfts unfinished fics #bridgerton #kanthony #kate x anthony #anthony x kate #bridgerton fic

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misc-obeyme · 2 months ago

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unchained - chapter fifteen

masterpost read the chapter on ao3

recommended music: Don't Go Dark by DREAMERS word count: 2799

GN!MC x Arsenios [demon OC] a/n: I consider this to be the most cringe of chapters because of the lyrics that I made up. I described the song as well as I could, too, but it isn't really important as long as the message of it is clear. Anyway, Arrie's on his way to fuck some shit up at the end though lol. Warnings: none

Every time you saw Arsenios's empty seat in the classroom at RAD, your gut twisted as you remembered the way his door closed with such finality. You were convinced it was a temporary situation, that he was only trying to keep you away for your own safety. You weren't sure what he was doing now. You wanted to be there when he confronted Caligo, but you hadn't been able to convince him that you could handle it.

So when you saw a flyer on the bulletin board for a show by Angel's Temptation, you were surprised. The band wouldn't play without Arsenios. You looked around the hallway and quickly tore the flyer off the board. The band was scheduled to play at a small local venue that evening. Was Arsenios still working while he was trying to lure the reaper to him? Or was the band somehow playing without him?

You stuffed the flyer in your bag, where it stayed crumpled until after your student council duties. When everyone else had gone home, you waited until it was almost time for the concert. Then you took out the flyer and headed to the address printed on it.

You tried to tell yourself that you were only going for the music. You were a fan of the band now, it was only normal for you to support them by showing up. It was definitely not because you were desperate for a glimpse of him. Not at all because you were worried about the state he had been in when you saw him last.

You knew you couldn't go with any of the others. Arsenios would spot you with any of them instantly. Even so, you also knew that he had an uncanny knack of knowing whenever you were in the same room with him.

The venue was a small bar with a tiny stage lit by a set of dim lights. You lingered at the back, behind the crowd and against the wall. There were plenty of demons in attendance. Maybe you would be unnoticed.

You first saw the other band members, easily bantering with each other as they did their sound check. And then you saw Arsenios. His usual calm and confident demeanor had a heaviness to it that you didn't like.

You could see the dark circles of the tattoos on his hands. They were working on setting up a mic, but you thought about the way he clenched them when he was feeling especially serious or anxious. You knew just enough to understand what that meant. The story of how they had been mangled and then healed.

The set was a mixture of rock songs and slower ballads. It was more intense than the acoustic set they had played at Crimson Street, but quieter than the grand theatrical performances they put on at The Fall.

Arsenios had stuck to the electric guitar the whole time, singing with his usual deep baritone. You couldn't know if he was aware of your presence. His eyes scanned the crowd, but didn't focus on any one spot in particular. He was just as present as he normally was, clearly putting his soul into his performance.

After several songs, there was a brief pause. You watched as Arsenios seemed to be arguing with Chymion and Lael. Even Liviana left her drums to join them and say a few words.

Whatever Liviana had said, Arsenios calmed down. He waved at them, clearly exasperated, but not willing to argue further.

The lights dimmed and a spotlight illuminated a piano that you hadn't noticed at the back of the stage. Arsenios sat down at the piano and began to play without first introducing the song.

It began simply, a soft repetition of chords and a small scale in the melody.

And then Arsenios began to sing.

The piano became even simpler, reverting back to only chords as his voice soared over them, delicate and melancholy.

You listened to the first and second verses, enraptured. From the first lines of the lyrics, you knew they were about you. The reality of this only vaguely registered as a squeezing in your heart.

in the darkness I could hear you your heartbeat in my song

You held your breath as the accompaniment became a little more rapid and Arsenios's voice lifted into the chorus. It was like every note was full of something that only you could see. It was as though everyone else had disappeared. It was as though you were in the dark dance hall again, just the two of you. He was singing this song to you.

these hands are bloodstained but now I am unchained

The chords slowed down again for the third verse and you nearly jumped when you heard him sing words that you had spoken to him not that long ago. In the Devildom Botanical Garden, when he had finally told you more than he ever had about his past.

you said you don't care what I've done or what I've had to do

The chorus came in again and your mind was whirling. You weren't sure what this meant. This song he had written about you. What was he trying to say? It seemed like you should know, like it should be obvious. But there was so much pain in it still. Like he was desperate, like he didn't know what to do with his own feelings.

A brief musical interlude that involved some unexpected scales and fingerwork caught your attention as it descended into the loud and dramatic chords of the bridge.

I used to sing about heartache now all I can sing about is you

You listened to the chorus as he went through it twice more. But you were only barely hearing it. The way he varied the melody as he let the chords and his voice become loud before everything softened in a diminuendo. The last chorus was quiet, almost pleading. The final chord, a single scale, until all that was left was the distant ringing of the D minor in the bass clef and a single D in the treble. The echo that it seemed to produce as he let the sustain pedal carry the sound. The way it cut off abruptly as he sat back.

It was too much, wasn't it? Was this song really about you?

You wanted to know about Arsenios's past. You wanted to know what had happened to him and why he was still suffering from those events now.

But with this song, he had given you something else. You remembered two lines from the third verse.

but I would die a thousand times just to end up here with you

And suddenly everything made sense. This song was a confession. When you saw Arsenios at his apartment, he looked like he hadn't slept in days. He could barely look at you. And then he told you to stay away.

Arsenios was in love with you. And that was more frightening to him than any reaper could ever hope to be.

Your gut twisted because the truth of this hit you hard. The band began to play a new song, but you didn't hear it. You turned abruptly and nearly ran out of the venue.

As you rushed down the street, making your way back to the House of Lamentation blindly, your mind was focused on only one thing.

Did Arsenios know you were there? Did he know you were listening?

You still hadn't been able to tell. But he always knew when you listened to him at RAD. Why would this setting be any different?

If he had known, then he had performed that song on purpose. Was this his way of telling you how he felt? Was it because he couldn't actually say it to you directly?

And even if all of that was true, even if this was a real confession of love, did it matter?

Arsenios had told you it would be better for you to stay apart. He said it was too dangerous. He might love you, but did he trust you?

That night, Arsenios lay sprawled on his back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He hadn't bothered to turn on the lights, only trudged up the stairs of the loft and collapsed fully clothed on the blankets.

Of course Arsenios knew you were there. He could sense you the moment you walked into that small venue. You didn't come forward, only stayed against the back wall, but he didn't need you close to hear you.

Arsenios had memorized the rhythm of your heartbeat and the way it synced up with your breathing. He recognized the beat in your tread, every footstep, every motion. He could sense the song that accompanied you no matter where you went.

It was something he first came to know at RAD, simply because your humanity made it stand out among the cacophony of so many demons. Now it was like you were a radio turned to full volume. Any time you were anywhere near him, your sounds flooded his senses.

He hadn't had any intention of playing the song he wrote about you. But soon enough, Chymion had spotted you in the crowd and informed Lael and Liviana of your presence. Then it was three against one in the argument about whether or not he should play your song. He had lost.

Arsenios knew that was a lie. He could have argued harder.

But for some reason, he wanted you to hear it. He needed you to. His confession, though full of fear and uncertainty, was holding the only hope of healing he'd had in centuries.

And it might end up being the last thing he ever sang to you.

It wasn't that Arsenios believed he couldn't find a way to defeat Caligo if it came down to a fight. It was more that Arsenios knew he would sacrifice his life for you if he had to. You were never supposed to be part of this situation. The only reason Caligo was targeting you was because of him and your closeness to him.

Arsenios felt that the only way to keep you safe was to bring this situation to an end once and for all. He had thought it was over long ago, but now that it was back he wasn't going to just wait around. He wasn't going to put it off until it was too late to protect you.

Arsenios sighed and closed his eyes.

Lucifer had been right.

If you were at all competent-

If he was at all competent, none of this would even be happening.

If he hadn't trusted Caligo to begin with, all those years ago, this wouldn't be happening now.

Abby chose that moment to jump up onto the bed, landing directly on Arsenios's stomach.

"Oof!" He flung his hands out to catch her, sitting up with her in his lap.

"All right, I get it," he said to her. "I'll stop feeling sorry for myself, okay?"

Abby purred and pushed her head into his hand.

"I know what I have to do," he said. "I've never met anyone like MC, Abby. Their sound is so intimately human, so much happening and yet all working together perfectly. It's soothing. It… merges somehow with that hole in my heart. I'll do anything to keep them safe."

Abby meowed.

Arsenios felt the heaviness of guilt press down on him. There was one important detail about reapers that he simply hadn't told you. He was sure if you knew, you would be more insistent about accompanying him. It was only his good luck that kept you from finding out from someone else. He wasn't sure how long that luck would hold out. But he only needed one more day.

Arsenios knew it would be a simple matter to get to Caligo. He was ready and tomorrow, he would go find Barbatos.

Arsenios picked up Little D No 2 who had been scampering conveniently through the gardens at the Demon Lord's Castle. He kicked his little legs and gnashed his teeth, clearly unhappy to have been caught.

"Hey," Arsenios said. "Calm down, it's just me."

No 2 stopped mid-thrash and looked at Arsenios for a moment before smiling. "Arrie!"

"Yeah," Arsenios said. "Can you get Barbatos for me? I don't want anyone else in the castle to know that I've talked to him."

No 2 kicked his feet slightly. "You mean you don't want Lord Diavolo to know!"

Arsenios huffed. "Yeah, you got me."

"Is it 'cause he'll tell Lucifer?" No 2 asked.

"Stop asking questions and go get Barbatos, please," Arsenios said.

"Okay!" No 2 exclaimed.

Arsenios put him back down and watched him scramble off into the castle.

Moments later, Barbatos came out where Little D No 2 had gone in. He saw Arsenios instantly.

"Sorry," Arsenios said when Barbatos stopped beside him. "But can you send me to the Underworld? You know where I need to go. I don't have time to walk there myself."

Barbatos regarded Arsenios for a long moment. This wasn't unusual, necessarily, but there was a tension in the air. Arsenios folded his arms and waited.

"Is it wise for you to go alone?" Barbatos asked.

Arsenios frowned. "This is my problem. And I'm going to take care of it."

Barbatos actually chuckled, which made Arsenios glare at him. "How exactly do you plan on taking care of a reaper?"

"You think I can't handle it?" Arsenios asked.

Barbatos shook his head. "I simply wish for you to consider what you will do once you find him."

Arsenios paused. He had considered it, of course. "I'm… going to talk to him."

The fondness in Barbatos's eyes was both endearing and infuriating. "Do you think he will listen?"

Arsenios huffed. "Maybe not, but it isn't like I have a choice. Look, you can't talk me out of this. If you don't help me get there, I'll walk instead. I'm going to talk to him, try to get my grimoire back, try to end this peacefully. This has gone on too long and I'm not about to put MC's life in any more danger."

"And what about your life, Arsenios?" Barbatos asked.

"What's my life compared to MC's?" Arsenios shot back. He knew he was getting worked up. He took a breath in an attempt to calm himself.

Barbatos shook his head. "This is exactly why I am hesitant to send you."

Arsenios sighed. "Listen, Barb. You know me. I thought I was broken beyond repair. I didn't know I was searching until I found them. I don't plan to die tonight, but if I sacrifice my life to protect them then I'll be doing it knowing I'm saving the one thing that matters to me."

Barbatos closed his eyes in a long suffering expression. "Have you truly found what you think you have, I wonder? Or do you perhaps still fail to understand exactly what it is you have always been seeking?"

"Please, Barb, I don't have time for your all powerful demon riddles," Arsenios said.

Barbatos considered him for a moment. "Very well. I can see that there is nothing I can say to dissuade you. I will open the portal for you."

Arsenios looked suspiciously at this sudden reversal. "Is that right?"

Barbatos chuckled. "Have you changed your mind after all?"

Arsenios knew he didn't have the luxury to question it. "No. Send me, please."

Barbatos opened a portal. Just before Arsenios stepped through it, he said, "Please be careful."

Arsenios picked up his guitar, which he had left on a nearby bench, and stepped through the portal. He found himself in the Underworld - a dark and ominous corner of it, somewhat near to the reaper prison. Barbatos had known that Arsenios would need to be at a crossroads and that was exactly where he now found himself. The jagged dirt paths that connected beneath his feet were in the center of a forest full of black and leafless trees.

It was dark and empty. The sky was grey. Arsenios strummed a chord on his guitar and it fell dully into the air around him. He didn't let that stop him. He played another chord, letting his fingers get used to the feel of the strings in this strange place. Soon he began some elaborate finger work, soft but complicated. The notes whispered around him like hushed prayers.

Arsenios played the guitar this way for hours. He never stopped, never once faltered. And finally he was rewarded with a flash of silver, letting him know he had finally succeeded. The reaper he sought was not far off, his yellow eyes gleaming from the depths of the trees.

masterpost | chapter fourteen | chapter sixteen [coming soon]

taglist: @avalordream @lonely-north-star @expressionless-fr @featheredcrowbones @pumpkinsareamazing

@szired @bagofwetmice @ashley675901

as always, please comment or dm me if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me oc #obey me oc x reader #obey me oc x mc #x reader #unchained #misc writes

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muramatsu-takehiko · 5 months ago

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劇団東演『どん底』ポスター B2

A4チラシ（flyer）、タイトル（title logo type）はこちら

#design #graphic design #graphicdesign #graphic #advertising #japanese design #Japanese graphic design #japanese #japan #japan design #typography #japanese typography #theaterical flyer #theatrical flyer #theatre #theater #演劇 #japanese illustration #illustration

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djdangerlove · 2 years ago

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To Say It Better, Although We’ve Said It Before

Eddie takes care of Buck during his recovery from the lightning strike.

Buddie Fic | Words: 2K | AO3 Link

There’s a telenovela playing on the TV mounted just above the whiteboard on the opposite side of the room, volume turned so low that only the bass line of dramatic music bleeds into the ambient whir of air conditioning blowing a few degrees too low to be comfortable and the steady beep of the heart monitor ticking away beside the bed. Buck has no idea what’s playing out on the screen considering he doesn’t feel well enough to look given his current state of health, but he can see the theatrical glow flicker across Eddie’s face as he slouches uncomfortably in a plastic chair.

“Your back is gonna feel like shit if you keep sitting like that,” he attempts to say but his voice cracks around vowels and a dry mouth as he buries half his face in the blanket curled over his fists trying to chase away a chill.

Eddie’s sneakers squeak against the tile as his chair nearly tips over in his efforts to right himself too fast, the bed railing separating the two of them the only thing keeping him from spilling out onto the floor. He leans against it, smile soft and skin the perfect shade of sheepish despite the dimmed fluorescents and Buck tries to commit the memory of it passed the haze of muscle relaxers making him woozy.

“I thought you were still asleep,” Eddie says, voice kept low around a yawn as he ducks his head towards the TV and searches blindly for the remote on the bedside table. “Is it bothering you? I can turn it off.”

“Nah, ’s fine,” Buck assures, fingers unfolding from the edge of his hospital blanket to wave off the concern sitting dark and heavy under Eddie’s eyes. The sound goes to mute anyway as Eddie’s hand snakes through the bedrails to prevent him from tearing at the highlighter yellow bracelet declaring him a fall risk and maybe he falls asleep to the slow swoop of the other man’s fingers against his forearm because the next thing he knows he’s blinking awake to gentle pats against his face.

“There he is,” Eddie’s voice curves around a smile and warms the room. Buck feels his face melt into the happiness swirling up above him even while a nurse pokes and prods him and asks the same ten questions as every time before. “Hear that, Bud? You’re still the unluckiest person in the LAFD.”

“She didn’t say that,” Buck protests on the back of a laugh that tugs uncomfortably around his ribs.

“Didn’t have to. Your hospital rap sheet speaks for itself.”

Buck rubs at his eyes in an attempt to bring the nurse with the wrong conclusions into focus, hissing when it just makes his head hurt worse.

“Actually,” she cuts in before anything more can be said on her behalf, clutching her clipboard to her chest with a shrug. “I was just reminding Mr. Diaz here that our frequent flyer program sucks so maybe the two of you could find a new vacation spot next time, hmm?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Eddie nods with a little half-hearted salute that Buck tries to mimic but pokes himself in the nose instead. The fall risk bracelet makes a lot more sense given his lack of coordination at the moment.

“Mr. Buckley, do you need anything while I’m here?”

His hospital room tilts off its axis just a bit when he opens his eyes and he can’t quite get the fingers of his left hand to curl tight enough to make a fist, but Eddie is cresting his thumb over Buck’s wrist bone and despite how every part of him aches he finds himself believing it when he answers, “ ‘m okay.”

The nurse starts for the door, pausing just long enough to remind him to, “Press the call button whenever you need to use the restroom so someone can assist you or Mr. Diaz can help you if that’s more comfortable.”

She’s gone in the span of a few flickers of TV light, silence settling in between the beeps of the heart monitor and the soft snick of the aglets of Eddie’s shoelaces tapping against the floor with the anxious bounce of his knee. He feels sleep folding back over his senses, lulling him into nothingness except for the warm, steady pressure against his wrist when a need hits him hard.

“Shit.”

Worry stills Eddie’s fingers, his shadow blocking the TV light when he leans forward in his chair. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve gotta piss.”

——————

It takes a few minutes for Buck to find himself steadily perched on the side of his hospital bed and detached from the monitors. Despite the world being blurry at the edges, there’s a dull ache across his body that’s not going away any time soon and Eddie seems set on apologizing for it every few seconds as he tries to maneuver fuzzy, pickle green socks with rubber stops on the bottom onto Buck’s feet.

“This is quite the outfit,” he mumbles, picking at the hem of the hospital gown keeping his knees from splaying wide and wishing someone would be kind enough to bring him a change of clothes.

“You make it to the bathroom in one piece, there’s a pair of sweats by the sink,” Eddie says as if Buck had spoken the request out loud. Maybe he did. “We’re gonna take it slow, okay?”

Buck nods even though Eddie’s still focused on adjusting the socks comfortably around his ankles, smiles when he feels a gentle hand around his calf stopping just before the pressure becomes too intimate.

“Hey. You with me? You look far too happy for someone in a backless gown.”

“ Jus’ thinking how that’s our specialty,” Bucks says around the way his tongue sort of sticks to the roof of his mouth. “Takin’ things slow.”

He realizes a touch too late that it’s an unfair thing to say. Eddie has been the one to put in the work, to find himself in a place where he can reach for the things that make him happy and hold them in his hands. Buck just…hadn’t been able to meet him there, couldn’t figure out how to reach back with the steady grip Eddie deserves.

“Yeah, alright,” Eddie agrees as he stands to hover at Buck’s elbow, fingers gentle as he helps him stand. “Easy. Let’s focus on one thing at a time, yeah?”

Buck takes the first tentative step towards the ensuite with the comforting heat of Eddie’s hand at his back and takes another three before he has to stop to let world spin by, right hand wrinkling Eddie’s shirt from where he grips it too tight, his left shaking uselessly.

“Okay?” Eddie asks after a moment, his thumb counting the seconds with a comforting stroke just above Buck’s hip.

He starts moving forward at a snail’s pace rather than try to steady his breath enough to respond, but Eddie follows him seamlessly until they’re standing in front of the toilet and Buck realizes a little belatedly he’s going to have to sit down just to piss.

“Hey,” Eddie nudges him so that he starts to turn around. “Remember the sponge baths you definitely did not give me?”

Buck laughs into Eddie’s shoulder remembering the exact shade of embarrassment that colored Eddie’s face during that stretch of his recovery while trying to shimmy out of his boxers enough to sit. It’s an awkward shuffle, but eventually he gets seated with as much privacy as he’s going to get from the gown and Eddie hovering back near the doorway.

The TV from the room isn’t loud enough to supply him with audible cover so he decides to supply his own. “Did you know that King George II died on the toilet?”

He’s able to flush before Eddie stops laughing and feels a little easier about letting his best friend help him stand again and get his boxers back in place under the residual amusement coloring both their faces.

“I did not know that,” Eddie says just loud enough that Buck can feel the words in the oily curls at the crown of his head when he has to hug himself to Eddie for balance. Patient hands track the knobs of Buck’s spine through the slit of his gown, stopping just before the points of the Lichtenberg figures fade into the skin of his shoulder. Eddie’s breath is warm against his scalp, cresting over the dull ache in his temples like a slow tide taking sand back out to sea. Buck thinks he could stand here forever if only he had the strength. “I’ve got you,” Eddie promises like he could anyway.

Time trickles by at an odd pace these days, Buck unable to keep track of it much less anything else. His thoughts are jumbled at best, a lingering side effect that most likely will resolve itself with time whenever that evens out, too.

It’s why he asks, “Did Maddie bring by some of my clothes?” after Eddie’s already helped him into a pair of sweatpants that fall a bit too short around his ankles. “Or…your clothes?”

The answer is soothed into his side, Eddie rubbing a hand there as he says, “No, not yet. You’re really not supposed to be out of the gown, but I cleared it with the nurse for the night because you’ve been cold today.”

“Oh,” Buck nods, the memory of Eddie asking that during his regular scheduled noon checkup feeling clunky between his ears. “I…I remember now. Thanks.”

“Of course. You ready to get back in bed?”

“Did I wash my hands?”

Eddie’s fingers ruffle the greasy tufts of hair at Buck’s forehead, replying around a patient smile, “Yeah, bud. You did. Can’t say the same for your hair though.” “There’s only so much Maddie can do with dry shampoo,” Buck groans, tugging Eddie into motion back towards the hospital bed. “When I bust out of here-“

“Carla’s already got it worked out for you to wash your hair whenever you want and Chris helped her pick out the right products for the curls. It’s all in the shower cubby at home,” Eddie assures while waiting to press the call button until Buck’s tucked back in comfortably. He tells the answering nurse Buck’s ready to be hooked back up to the monitors and moves to the opposite side of the bed so he’s not in the way.

Once the heart monitor is keeping track of the only kind of time that matters again, Eddie perches himself on the side of the bed and Buck feels his hand run through his hair in tempo with the slow blinks of sleep tugging at his eyelids.

“Tomorrow,” he says, voice quiet and content in the silence around just the two of them, “I’ll get Maddie to convince the docs you’re ready for soap and water, okay?”

Buck grins enough it dimples his cheek. “I love you.”

Sleep evaporates with a quick little blip of the heart monitor and if Buck hadn’t literally been struck by lightning he’d think that’s what letting this little bit of information slip feels like. Damage control is slow and incoherent off his tongue with a “No… no, no. Wasn’t supposed to say it like that.”

He thinks he can hear Eddie laughing again, but his heart is too loud where it beats in his stomach, his ears, his toes. “How were you supposed to say it?”

“I..” and Buck doesn’t really remember, knows he almost didn’t get to say it at all, but thinks he’d rather not have said after sitting down to pee.

“Well, sure. There are more romantic ways to say it than that,” and shit. Buck really hopes his brain to mouth filter starts working within the next five seconds, that’d be great. “But you’re acting like we’ve never said it at all.”

“What?”

Even with dark circles of sleepless nights and days old stubble, Eddie is beautiful when a peaceful sort of happiness washes over his face. “I think we’ve been saying it for a while now, maybe just in a roundabout way. A little guarded, so I’ve been told.”

Buck reaches for Eddie’s hand, curling his fingers as much as he can to hold it but when it’s not enough he decides to trace the ridges of his knuckles with the pad of his thumb. “I…I want to keep saying it. Saying it better though, because…you deserve to hear it. To feel it.”

“Buck,” Eddie breathes his name as he falls forward enough to rest his forehead over the pounding of Buck’s heart in his chest. “Your love is the loudest thing I’ve ever heard and when I…when I thought I couldn’t feel anything…I still felt that.”

“I love you,” Buck says, with purpose this time and a gentle kiss to the crown of Eddie’s head and just because he can.

“And I love you.”

#buddie fic #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 fox

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101flavoursofweird · 1 year ago

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Mattholomule: I was power! And I want DRAMA!

Willow: Got a need for thrills, chills and theatrics? Join the Flyer Derby Team!

Matt would’ve been in his element on the Flyer Derby Team…

Maybe he prefers flying on a broomstick to flying with his palisman? Maybe he’s not into sports? Or is it because Gus is part of the team and Matt didn’t want to embarrass himself around Gus?

#the owl house #mattholomule #gustholomule #willow park #gus porter #gus x matholumule #I might write a fic on this at some point #I’ve got 2 requests I need to finish first and like 100 wips :’)#flyer derby

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gasolinerainbowpuddles · 1 year ago

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Fly Me To the Moon║ ⒸⓄⓁⓁⒺⒸⓉⒾⓄⓃⓈ

| FLY ME TO THE MOON | part of the A Weight Off Your Shoulders collection ║ series masterlist ║ main masterlist ║ | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x plus sized!fem!neighbor

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 5.5k | CONTENT: age gap (Joel mid 40s, neighbor late 20s), struggles of body image and self-worth, Joel gives off some himbo and “he’s so babygirl” vibes (an absolute chef’s kiss of a combo), these two dorks are so down bad for each other it’s stupid

| SYNOPSIS: Joel convinces you to take a weekend trip together.

✧this is the fourth installment of a oneshot collection but can (probably? sort of?) be read as a standalone✧

✧◦◦║ Part 1 ║ Part 2 ║ Part 3 ║ Part 5 ║ Part 6 ║◦◦✧

“Damn, I can’t even remember, darlin’,” Joel drawls, thumbing circles against your leg absentmindedly as he looks up at the ceiling in thought. “Ppfftt. Years. Years.”

“And you were the one telling me that I needed a vacation?” you huff in a laugh.

“Time ain’t got nothin’ to do with it. I’m still right. You need a damn break,” he shoots back with firm but loving kindness.

The airport intercom buzzed with static overhead before an announcement by way of a way too chipper, absolutely-cannot-be-her-actual-voice informed you that your flight would begin boarding in 10 minutes.

“How’d you hear about this again? This deal package thing?” you ask.

“Buddy a’mine from work.” He’s studying the ticket in his hand and glancing at yours. He’d made you print yours out instead of just using the digital ones he’d been issued. Because of course he had. And in the same middle aged man fashion, he’d hauled you to the airport way too many hours before you actually needed to be there. You didn’t really mind, though. It just meant the two of you could sit and talk and relax for longer. A nice start to the quick 3 day vacation to Cabo San Lucas that Joel had all but insisted you take with him.

“Your work friends take cute little weekend trips to Cabo?” you snort.

Joel smirks at the tickets as he reads over them for the 5 millionth time to ensure all the details haven’t magically changed since the last time he checked them. He pushes his glasses up his nose from where they had steadily crept down.

That’s one of the things you’d learned about Joel early on. He wore contacts almost exclusively when he was working on major projects or during the busier time of year for contracting - “safer’n tryna stack safety goggles on top of some glasses” - but opted for some seriously unfairly adorable glasses the rest of the time. He looked good either way, of course.

You follow the line of his nose to where the bridge of it now correctly supports his frames. There was numerous things about Joel’s appearance that you loved, but his nose had snuck into the lineup at some point. Probably something to do with how much you loved when he’d drag it into you when he was lapping you up, the tip of it bumping and stimulating your clit until you couldn’t take it anymore and–

The announcement overhead informs you that the First Class flyers could “ready themselves for boarding at this time.”

“So do they? Bunch of manly, manly man men taking beach getaways?” you taunt.

He lifts an eyebrow and tears his gaze away from the tickets.

“No, just my dumbass buddy who’s on his third wife ‘n has managed to learn enough that a romantic gesture here ‘n there is a helluva lot cheaper than a divorce lawyer,” he chortles.

“Pretty good motivator, I guess,” you admit with amusement. “So what’s your excuse?”

“My excuse? For what? Bookin’ this trip?” he asks. You nod, and he shrugs.

“I’ll be honest with ya, I’m tryna get into this girl’s pants, and I think a coupla beachside margaritas’ll do the trick. She seems like a bit of a slut, to tell ya the truth, but that works out just fine ‘cause I’m a slut, too.” He wiggles his eyebrows theatrically and grins at you when you playfully swat his arm. He leans in closer and grips the inside of your thigh.

“Truth be told, I’m hopin’ to catch sight’a her in this lil pink stringy bikini I’m rather fond of,” he rasps into your ear. You erupt in goosebumps and half-heartedly nudge him away with a bad impression of a chiding look.

“Yeah, well, let’s hope there’s not any turbulence or else the only thing you’ll catch sight of is that girl with her head down the toilet for the rest of the night,” you deadpan.

Joel makes a dissenting noise and trades his grasp on your leg for your hand. “Baby, it’s alright. It’s not a long flight. Promise. I checked the weather and all that. Sunny. Not even a cloud out there. It’ll be alright,” he soothes.

You’d let him know ahead of time that you did not like flying. You wouldn’t go so far as deeming it a phobia, but flying in general made you anxious enough that any amount of turbulence was enough to set you off entirely. You were too embarrassed to share the other reasons of why you hated flying. Joel wouldn’t have made you feel bad about it if you had, but you hated that it was even a thing in the first place.

It was a commonly shared experience that flying was little more than “sardines packed into a tin can” that commoners just had to deal with. Then of course there was the lost luggage or the crying babies or the seating disagreements. Common ground for just about anybody who traveled enough. There was a reason why so many comedians had made airline and flying jokes their bread and butter.

Then there were the additional drawbacks for “passengers of size,” as they were so lovingly called by airlines. Those who carried “more than their share” of poundage being seated beside - or worse, in between - smaller passengers meant you ended up a source of annoyance. An easy, uniting point of focus for disgruntled flyers to project all their grievances onto. How dare you squash into the seat like the rest of us, except you’re bigger so it’s somehow a personal insult to them that you’d make an unpleasant experience even more so.

Because it was so preventable, right? Just be smaller. Eat less. Control yourself every once in a while. Put down the cheeseburger and go for a run every now and then. If you would just stop being so selfishly huge, the rest of us wouldn’t have to put up with your body spilling over into our seat. We wouldn’t have to deal with you shoving and squeezing past everybody because you don’t fit. You aren’t meant to be so big, that’s why you don’t fit. Take the hint and drop a few pounds. For our sake. For your sake.

Or at least have the decency to buy yourself two seats and spare us all the unpleasantries of being made to deal with your bad decisions, your lack of control, your lazy life that has made you too big. We shouldn’t have to pay for the consequences of your bad choices.

Yeah. You dreaded flying.

But how could you possibly put such a damper on this nice gesture from Joel? He’d been so eager and sweet to suggest it. He’d even bought the tickets before even talking to you so that he could guilt trip you into treating yourself to a vacation if you turned him down.

It didn’t take much convincing, though. The thought of Joel half naked and all to yourself for multiple days in a row clouded your judgment. Now that you were about to board, reality was sinking in fast. You tried your best to not let your anxiety get the better of you, but your leg was jumping up and down already.

Joel’s hand cupped the side of your face and turned you to look at him. “Hey, c’mon. I’m right here. I’ll stay beside you the whole time, alright? Get myself permanently banned from the airline when I pee into a water bottle instead’a gettin’ up to use the bathroom. Promise.” His playful attempt at distracting and comforting you works.

“That’s so gross, Joel,” you groan with a scrunched face.

“Just sayin. I’ll do whatever I hafta if it means you’re comfortable, baby,” he says in all sincerity. He brings your hand to his lips and trails a few kisses along your knuckles.

“Let’s go before I gotta chase you down and drag you onto this metal tube myself.”

You roll your eyes and laugh, feeling slightly more relaxed. You just hope nothing embarrassing happens in front of Joel. You don’t think you could stand that level of humiliation.

You hand your ticket to the woman, and she scans it wordlessly with a bored look. You walk ahead of Joel who calls for you to go ahead as he doubles back to the terminal seating where he’d dropped something from his pocket.

You move along the small boarding bridge until you reach a curve in it where you can step aside and allow others to pass. You notice the lingering looks from a few people. The tell tale “god, I hope I’m not seated next to her” expressions flashing before being politely buried and exchanged for a forced, tight-lipped smile.

Joel finally meanders along and gives you a quick peck before you both board. Joel is walking in first and puts both of your overhead luggage away in the bin. His bicep flexes with the movement, and you think to yourself you might just be able to distract yourself enough with certain things to make this flight go faster.

You glance around the plane as Joel finishes loading up the suitcases and closes the cover. The flight is packed. You don’t spot more than 7 empty seats, and there are people behind you. Great. You should’ve looked at your tickets closer like Joel had because maybe then you’d know if either of you had the aisle seat. At least that way you could shove some of yourself into the aisle and give everyone else more room.

“You first, honey,” he prompts, placing a gentle hand on your lower back.

“Um, I’ll just- I’d actually just rather sit in the aisle seat,” you say. “I don’t know if either one of our tickets–”

“I got the aisle seat on my ticket. You take it, baby.” He slides into the middle and pats the aisle seat beside him for you to sit down. You shimmy as gracefully as you can, praying that the armrests won’t dig into your sides too noticeably. You breathe a sigh of relief when you settle into the seat without having to fight the vice grip of metal bars on either side of you.

Joel lifts the armrests that divide the three seats. He wiggles with approval at the less confining arrangement and scoots closer to you.

“Mmmm thas’better,” he hums as he leans a kiss into the crook of your neck and grabs at the inside of your thigh again. His hand is working its way across your lower belly roll when you warn him under your breath to not get you worked up right now when you’re just gonna have to wait hours until he can do something about it. He doesn’t bother to hide the smug expression he’s wearing, all too proud of himself for getting you turned on so easily.

You anxiously await the arrival of the third person bound to put an end to the pretend private party you and Joel are having. You look around confused with a growing thrill when it appears that everyone has boarded the flight. The seat next to Joel’s is empty. You turn your neck to see if there are more open spots in the otherwise packed flight, but you can’t see any from where you’re sitting unless you stand to get a better view.

“I can’t believe we get the whole row to ourselves,” you whisper excitedly to Joel.

He smiles softly at you, taking a moment to soak up the shift in your mood where delight has taken the place of anxiety. “You must be a lucky charm, baby,” he coos before giving you a quick kiss.

It’s the usual spiel: exits are this way, put your own oxygen mask on first, don’t get up until the seatbelt sign goes off. Your last bit of nerves over securing the belt around yourself slip like grains of sand through open fingers when Joel leans over and buckles you in himself. As always, he plants a quick kiss on you before getting himself buckled.

He also unbuckles you once takeoff is done and everyone is “free to move about the cabin.” He cups your face, reminding you gently that he “told you it wasn’t gonna be too bad.” You grin at him. A small heat simmers from your chest to your cheeks at all the comfort and attention he’s showering on you, unaware of just how many things he’s helping you through.

When you repeatedly crane your head to look out the window, Joel asks if you still want the aisle seat.

“Oh. Sorry. I was just-No, I was just curious is all. The aisle seat is good,” you lie.

Of course you want to have the window seat. Everybody loves the window seat. It’s the best seat.

But you never get the window seat because that would mean you would be stuck in the corner, nowhere to lean your body to give others room, having to hold your pee because you can’t scoot past the other two seats and don’t want to be the spectacle of the fat girl making everyone else in your row get up so you can get out.

So, yeah. Aisle seat is fine.

Joel rolls his eyes at you and pokes your thigh. “You’re in my seat,” he says pointedly. You start to argue with him that no, seriously, it’s fine! you want the stupid aisle seat and not the much obviously better window seat, but then he decides to play dirty.

“I’mma call a stewardess over here and have her remove the unruly passenger that’s refusin’ to give me my seat,” he challenges with a playful jut of his chin towards you.

“OHMYGOD,” you huff. “FINE.”

Joel squeezes over and past you, and you shimmy over to the window.

“There is seriously something wrong with you, Joel,” you try to say as sternly as possible, but the wavering giggle in your tone gives you away.

“Shutup, baby, you love it,” he murmurs with a chuckle as he presses himself flush against the side of your back and rests his head on your shoulder. You both sit like that for a bit, looking out the window together with his hand holding yours in your lap.

The rest of the flight is over in record time after you amuse yourselves with the product catalogs in the seat pockets. You and Joel marvel at the dumbest shit that has ever been “invented,” and it somehow gets worse with each page. Joel mercilessly teased you at one point when you tried to hide your genuine interest at the lawn gnome that was fashioned like an accountant. Well, a banker. But still. Close enough in looks and all. And it was only $47.99 plus shipping and handling. Okay, that was an awful price for such a tacky, cheap garden decor item, but it was cute.

He still wouldn’t let it go after you landed and made your way towards the exit. “So lemme get this straight,” he starts with a devilish edge in his voice. “You give me grief for my ‘middle age man bullshit’ like, I dunno, gettin’ to the airport early enough so you’re on time for a flight, but I’m not supposed’ta say anythin’ about you tryna order from a damn airplane catalog?”

“Joel, you told me one time The Eagles made better music than Nirvana,” you scoff in defense of your position.

“That’s not what I said!” he huffs right back.

You only have yourself to blame for the 6 minute Now That’s What I Call Dad Rock! explanation that followed with all the “complex layers” that “determine good bands from bad bands.” Joel was quick to drop the subject entirely when you casually mention that you knew he had Black Eyed Peas in his iTunes library.

“Sarah must’a added that. Don’t even know what that is.” The nervous neck scratch and patchy pink on his cheeks suggested otherwise.

When you finally made it to your hotel, you can’t believe you’d ever considered not coming. Joel confesses that he upgraded the existing package for a “villa suite.” You considered lecturing him over “wasting his money on you,” but you settled for a “thank you” and a kiss when you correctly reminded yourself that this was for both of you.

You feel the hot burn of overwhelming contentment in your gut as you watch Joel list off all the activities included in the package. The snorkeling, sunset yacht cruise, and jet skiing all sound fun. The horseback riding, parasailing, and kayaking stand out as the biggest NOPEs for fat girls.

Joel calls down to the front desk to arrange the sunset yacht cruise for the two of you a few hours from now. He wants to shower - “fuckin’ airplane oxygen makes my skin crawl” - and you wave him off as you help yourself to some fruit the staff has left for you on a decadent looking platter arrangement. You hear the water cut on in the shower. You open the sliding panoramic glass doors to listen to the water from the beach that makes up most of your view.

You feel cliche the moment you think it, but you really do feel like you’re in paradise. Not just the location, either. Here, with Joel. Who pushed you to do something spontaneous and fun and spendy. Who comforted you the entire plane ride. Who made you feel special. Who still hadn’t pressured you to put a label on your relationship and seemed content that you were mutually exclusive and just needed more time to adjust to the idea of getting into another serious relationship so soon after you broke off your engagement with your shitbag ex Michael.

Another side of you was nervous for this trip because it was a very undeniable “couple in a serious, longterm, committed relationship” move. Not that Joel had ever mentioned it as such or even made you feel that way. It was all in your own head, like most of the things that held you back from doing what made you truly happy.

You shake your head and decide you’re going to focus on the amazing time ahead of you. Just as soon as you can get the price of your plane ticket from Joel so you could balance your digital register and pay him back. You’d talked him into letting you split the cost of the hotel package, but then he’d gone and upgraded it to this villa. You felt antsy about your airline ticket still being outstanding when you know Joel must’ve spent a good chunk of change for this nicer, more secluded lodging option.

“Hey, babe?” you call into the bathroom. He answers back with a watery yeah?

“Hey, how much did you say the ticket was? For the flight?”

A beat or two of silence. “Uhhh, I dunno off the top’a my head, baby. I can tell ya when I get out of the shower, though. Be just about 10 minutes, okay?”

“Alright,” you call back.

You turn and walk back into the bedroom portion of the villa. You see Joel’s clothes discarded on the floor. His phone, belt, and wallet littered on the neatly made king size bed. A thought crosses your mind that makes you smile. You pick up Joel’s phone and stare at the lockscreen. You didn’t know his password, but you didn’t have to. He’d unlock it for you if you ever asked to borrow it for a second. He wasn’t anything like the “suspiciously protective of their things” guys you’d been with before who didn’t want you to go through anything of theirs, especially electronics.

You hum to yourself and take a bite of pineapple. You’ve just come up with a little game, a test for yourself, to see if you can guess Joel’s password without any help from him. Worst case scenario it’d lock you out for a little bit and you’d have to wait to get your ticket price. Best case scenario you prove to yourself and to him that you know him like the back of your hand. That, and you can check his email for the flight receipt.

Hhmmmmm. Seven numbers. Must be Sarah’s doing. Joel wouldn’t go out of his way to add more digits to a passcode just to make it harder to get into. Path of least resistance was Joel’s general approach to technology. You take a bite of a strawberry. Then a mango. Oh my god, this shit is delicious. Fresh fruit had to be one of the best things on earth.

Seven. Seven. Seven. Hhhmmmmmmmm.

Your face lights up. You know it. You know his passcode. It HAS to be this. You’d wager a good amount of money that you’re correct. You start to punch in the numbers.

8 0 0 8 1 3 5

It unlocks the second you hit the 5. You let out a victorious cackle. This DORK. Of course his password is “boobies” in numerical form. Of fucking course it is. Just when you think you can’t fall for this man any more than you already have, he goes and has that for his phone passcode.

“Fuckin’ perv,” you giggle to yourself with immense delight.

You are giggling and smiling to yourself as you click open his email. You scroll down until you see the airline name and then tap it open. Your brow furrows. The giggle that had been bubbling up your throat goes away in an instant. You don’t notice the sound of the shower being turned off or the rustling of Joel toweling himself off.

Joel’s words from earlier echo in your mind. “I’ll do whatever I hafta if it means you’re comfortable, baby.”

You stare at the screen, scrolling up and down and back again to make sure you’re reading it correctly.

“Everything okay? You aren’t answerin’ me,” Joel asks from the bathroom doorway.

You turn towards him, and he can now see you clutching his unlocked phone in your hand. The glow of it reflects off your glossed eyes where tears are prickling at the brim. A look of realization from Joel.

“Baby, I– Please just let me–” he starts in a hurry.

“You bought three plane seats? You bought the whole row?” you squeak out.

“I’m– I did, but it wasn’t–”

“Why’d you do that?” you demand. You already know why.

“Baby, listen. It’s not like that! I knew you’d be annoyed at me putting up the money for first class, so I just did it this way instead. You weren’t supposed’ta find out,” he implores.

He slowly approaches you, sensing the teetering mood that’s been set. His eyes are searching yours and begging for forgiveness all at once.

“First class? Because of, because they’re bigger seats? And-And a whole row so a third person didn’t have to squeeze in? So just me and you could sit together in the row?” you mumble.

You make a frustrated noise when you start replaying the day.

“Oh my god. The pocket. Your thing you said you dropped from your pocket? That you went back into the terminal to get? You didn’t even drop anything! Did you? You just needed to make sure I couldn’t see the lady scan two tickets!”

Joel swallows thickly and looks like he has no idea what to do or say.

Something akin to embarrassment threatens to take hold of you, but instead an overwhelming sense of love and security takes its place. Joel wanted to buy you First Class seats for a more comfortable flight, but he knew you’d get stuck on him spending that sort of money. So instead he bought an extra seat in economy class just so you could have enough room to move around comfortably. So you’d have a good flight. So you’d have a good start to the amazing weekend trip he’d planned.

“I-I did it because I-I just wanted you to have a good flight and be comfortable. Please, it’s not what you’re thinking. I know you get anxiety flyin’, and nobody fits good in those stupid seats anyway.” He’s a bit more frantic in his explanation now that you’re just staring at him, blinking slowly. He grabs your hands in his.

“Please. Please. Don’t be mad at me. Please,” he begs.

“Mad? At you?” You’re confused. Joel thinks you’re mad at him. For doing one of the most considerate things anyone has ever done for you and without any prompting. Somebody who’d probably never been more than 10 pounds “overweight” their entire life. Somebody who had no lived experience occupying a fat body. Somebody who because of those things would have to care deeply for someone to think of them in such an intimate, personal context. To even consider what their experiences were like. To imagine how they might be able to do something to make those experiences safer, nicer, more palatable for them. Joel had come up with this idea because he cared about you that much.

His head shifts sideways, sharing in the confusion. “Aren’t you?” he wonders.

“That is… the nicest thing… that anyone has ever–,” you break off when your voice cracks with emotion.

Joel’s expression softens when he gathers you aren’t furious with him. You close your eyes and take a deep breath before opening them again and wrapping your arms around Joel’s middle.

“No. I’m not mad. At all. You… You’re … Just.. I just….” You shake your head as you look up to him. Trying to collect yourself and your thoughts feels like the hardest thing that’s ever been done in the history of doing hard things.

He shakes his head back at you. “You can– You’re allowed to be upset with me. I shoulda told you. I shoulda just told you the truth. I just didn’t want for you to, I dunno. Didn’t want you to feel embarrassed or somethin’. Not that you should feel embarrassed. Just that I thought you might feel embarrassed ‘bout it. ‘Cause of nerves or how you’d fit in the seats. Didn’t want you feelin’ self-conscious about any of it. Jus’ wanted you to be comfortable. Thought it was the best way to go about it, s’all. I know it was dumb. Shouldn’t’a kept it from you.”

“Take this stupid towel off,” you order.

“I-what?”

The quick turn in the conversation stuns Joel for a moment. You don’t wait for him to catch up. You shove the towel off his hips and let it drop to the floor. You walk him backwards until the backs of his knees hit the bed. A hard shove lands him onto his back against the soft mattress.

“The hell?” he mutters. There’s confusion in his tone but zero resistance to the surprising but welcome turn of events.

He’s sprawled out against the large bed, and you take the opportunity of his wide spread to start licking anywhere and everywhere. His hips buck at the first pass of your flat tongue against his balls.

“Gahh-Goddamn. Fuck. The fuck is goin’ on?” he rasps.

You laugh at his suspended disbelief and bewilderment as you slurp both of his balls into your mouth and start a pull of light suction on them. A whiny moan grumbles in his throat at the sensation.

You release him and let the slobber drip down your chin. “M’showin’ you how not mad I am at you.”

His eyes roll back when you take his entire length into your mouth with one motion. His hips jerk when you bottom out.

“Ooohhh-hngggg jesusfuckinchrist,” his voice crackles and strains. You work his length with such fervor that your drool is running down his shaft, dripping onto the curly brown hairs at his base, sliding in hot streaks down his ass on either side of his ballsack. You so rarely got to please him like this. He always preferred you riding his face or letting him titty fuck you. You hadn’t really ever shown him your particular skillset in this department, but you were sure as hell gonna clear that up today.

“Ba-Baby. Agh fuck. Lemme tast–” Joel is sputtering through his sentence, but it drops off entirely when you start to jerk him off and bury your tongue into his asshole. His legs snap up into a loose bend at the knee. His hand flies to the top of your head.

“OH FUCK,” he blurts out, raising his hips off the bed slightly for you to have better access.

You trade off between rolling your tongue with firm presses against his hole and darting as much of your tongue as you can inside of it, and he sounds borderline hysterical. You move up to his balls again and suck them into the vacuum of your mouth more urgently than before. By the time you make it back up to his dick, he is blabbering absolute nonsense.

“Gah-jus’ wanna— hhhngggg, oh fuck haahhhhhh, christ— if I wanna – but wanna fuck your–”

A strangled moan cuts his incoherent musings off. The fact that this man thinks he can last long enough to fuck you? In the state you’ve whipped him into? Actually hilarious. He’s about to spiral, and you’re almost done showing him how not mad you are. You know what will get him there, and quick.

“Joel, shut the fuck up already and turn my throat into a daycare,” you growl.

“JESUS CHRIST, YOU’RE GONNA FUCKIN’ END ME,” he practically sobs when you take him into your mouth again.

You bob the tip of his head in your throat and massage his balls. His entire body stiffens as he grabs for your hair. He makes a sort of pained noise just before you feel him twitching inside your mouth. The loud, distress-adjacent moans ripping from his chest are almost enough to make you get off, too.

You work him through his release, swallowing and bobbing as his spend shoots into your throat. You don’t stop until he gently pulls you off of him.

You are a complete mess. Slobber and cum dripping and sliding every which way. You couldn’t give less of a shit. Joel’s astonished, blissed out look right now makes your day. You wished your phone was closer to you could snap a picture of him, looking like he’d just seen a sleep paralysis demon do a long division math problem before running off to play hopscotch with some Keebler Elves.

“You okay?” you laugh as you crawl up next to him and wrap your arms around his neck. He turns to look at you with wide-eyed awe. You can’t help but crack up at his astonishment.

“You’re acting like nobody’s ever sucked your dick before, Joel,” you gibe.

“NOT LIKE THAT THEY HAVEN'T.” His voice perfectly compliments his expression. Bewildered. Satisfied. Reverent.

You laugh again. You made mental notes of your performance. Save that routine in your back pocket and bust it out when you need it. A real “BREAK GLASS IN CASE OF EMERGENCY” type blowjob. Always a good thing to have.

“Told you I wasn’t mad,” you titter. You place wet kisses against his neck and snuggle closer. He relaxes against the bed and slowly comes back to his senses. You feel his chest shake with a laugh.

“What? What’s so funny?” you demand.

“Turn my throat into a daycare?” he echoes your words back to you. He sniffs an impressed, incredulous laugh through his nose. “Absolutely foul, Roxanne.”

You bark a laugh at his use of your full name. You could probably count on one hand the times he’d used it, and it was always when he was being very serious about something. The fact that he’d used it in this context felt like the funniest thing you’d ever heard in your life. When your rolls of laughter subsided, you took him to task on his declaration of you being “foul.”

“Uuuhhhhh, that’s real rich coming from the guy who has BOOBIES for his passcode! If I’m a pervert, then you’re a pervert,” you assert.

“Damn, guess you’re right,” he tuts. “Sounds like we really deserve each other.”

Your breath catches, and you lock eyes with one another. You don’t think he meant for it to sound as meaningful as it did. He opens his mouth and closes it a few times before settling for silence. His face is so open yet impossible to read.

“Yeah. I think you’re right. I think we do deserve each other,” you agree in a low voice and a shy smile.

Joel wordlessly brings your mouth to his and captures you in a slow, deep kiss. It feels like he’s saying whatever it was that he couldn’t just a few moments ago. For now you greedily take what he’s able to communicate, but you know eventually you’ll both have to work up the nerve to talk about it and say all the things you’ve been saying through touches and gifts and looks and gestures and acts of service.

But for right now, you’re just going to take the time to enjoy what’s right in front of you.

me, to the characters I am writing and putting into the very specific situations I'm reading: OH MY FUCKING GOD, YOU TWO JUST KNOCK IT OFF ALREADY AND ADMIT YOU LOVE EACH OTHER

me, before anyone can ask why this is being posted before the sub!Joel fic that was supposed to come out next:

catch ya later, ♥Puddles♥

#fic: a weight off your shoulders #joel miller #joel miller x plus size reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #joel miller hbo #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction #oneshots

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 1 day ago

Text

Dancing 'til the Break of Dawn - Pt 19

<Pt18

(TWST Zombie apocalypse AU where Yuu beast tames just a little too close to the sun)

“I can’t believe you’re making me clean while injured,” Yuu lamented, shaking his head.

Deuce didn’t respond, he was too busy dragging Yuu’s plant pots back inside. The plants were withering slightly, the weeds had gotten to them while Yuu was away, and the cold certainly hadn’t helped… but Yuu had faith.

Not a lot of faith, but still more faith than he did when he first planted those seeds, when he wasn’t even sure whether they would sprout.

… unless the seeds had only sprouted to be contrary or to prove a point. In which case… they will never succeed. Mwahaha!

He pinched the bridge of his nose. Is it impossible to annoy yourself? Because he was pretty sure he had just managed it. That was kind of depressing.

“You started cleaning, we didn’t even ask you to,” Ace said.

“You’re evil,” Yuu sniffed.

“I mean, yeah, true, but this isn’t why.”

Deuce set the pots down and groaned, stretching his back for a moment, before sending Yuu a flat look. “Are you admitting that you’re injured, now? Because you still haven’t finished your coconut water and cereal.”

Yuu’s sweeping took him to the other side of the store.

Because he was a good ‘roommate’ who cleaned up after both himself and others!

Which was, frankly, a necessity. Putting three teenage boys together during an apocalyptic scenario was a recipe for disaster hygiene-wise. And it was made even worse by Ace, who tracked blood everywhere he went, because he sucks.

Don’t worry, though, Ace was doing his penance:

Yuu had figured out that Ace wasn’t half bad at knitting, and Ace was now being forced to make Grim clothes. The little booties had already been acquired, but it was getting cold out and Grim didn’t have nearly enough fur to deal with it. So, of course, Yuu had decided to make this someone else’s problem. Ace’s in particular because, again, he sucks.

Would Yuu have made him do it regardless of Ace’s many crimes? There is insufficient evidence for a court of law to reliably name him guilty (nor a functioning court of law at all), so… no.

“It should be illegal to make me pay child support in this economy,” Ace complained from somewhere in the store.

“There’s no one here to prosecute!” Yuu said.

“Yeah, well, there’s no one here to make me pay, either!”

“Sucks to suck,” said Deuce. He had moved on to taking stock of their current supplies, checking to see if they were running low on any spices. Because he was surprisingly helpful from time to time.

Mostly when his food source was in peril.

Why was everyone so food-motivated these… days…?

Right. Apocalypse. Yeah, that makes sense, actually.

“Why doesn’t he have to pay?!” Ace said.

“‘Cause he helps me out from time to time. Willingly,” Yuu shot back, rolling his eyes.

Ace groaned. Loud to the point of being theatrical.

Yuu simply grinned and continued sweeping the floors.

Until he reached the front of the store.

… was that a flyer? Huh? Huh?

The doors slid open automatically when he neared it, a small bell chiming above his head, but he barely paid that any mind, reaching around and yanking the flyer down.

Cold air washed over his face as he peered down at the… foreign thing in his hands.

Many things about this made Yuu pause. The fact that someone had apparently found their hiding place was a big one, of course.

But, also, how did someone get their hands on a computer and a printer in the apocalypse?!

No, there was definitely something wrong with this.

“Yuu…?” Deuce said, standing on tiptoes to try to see over the aisles. Unfortunately for him, he was just a little too short regardless (an unfortunate consequence of being a mere teenager), and only his terrible green hair could be seen over the shelves.

Yuu ran a hand through his hair, stepping backward, letting the door shut in front of him.

And then he shook his head to himself, stuffing the flyer into his pocket.

“You good?” Deuce asked, coming around the corner, twirling a pen around his finger idly.

“I just… thought I saw something out there,” Yuu said, after a second. “My fan club’ll deal with it, if it’s a problem, though.”

Deuce pursed his lips. He nodded, slowly, and then went back to work without another word.

Yuu wasn’t surprised. Deuce, for some reason, was starting to seriously dislike Grim, and Yuu couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out why. Beyond the whole ‘being perfect’ thing, Grim… hadn’t really done anything to Deuce, as far as Yuu was aware. In fact, they had been getting closer as of late, Yuu had seen the two cuddling on more than one occasion (which he was very normal and not jealous about).

Not to mention Grim had saved all of their lives not too long ago!

Sure, he had only saved Ace and Deuce grudgingly, because Yuu asked him to, but Yuu was being entirely genuine when he said that he couldn’t force Grim to do anything he didn’t want to do. If Grim found that he truly couldn’t tolerate Yuu’s friends, he would bite them and force Yuu to move on.

So, yeah, honestly, Deuce had nothing to be upset about.

If anything, Yuu had more reasons to be upset with Grim.

Not that Grim could ever do anything wrong, of course, even if he tried!

It was just…

Grim was being a little… strange. Quieter, more prone to hiding and watching Yuu from the shadows. He still accepted pets when Yuu initiated them, happy to let Yuu scratch him behind the ears, but he no longer came over and rubbed up against Yuu’s legs until he dropped what he was doing in favor of pressing a kiss to the cat’s head.

His mental health was dangling from a damn string. But Grim had never really taken to cat toys, so waving that in front of him wasn’t going to lure him out…

And it was even worse for Yuu’s physical health, seeing as 99% of his survival strategy hinged on Grim liking him.

Yuu was reminded of that one story of a lady who went to the vet because her pet snake had started acting strange – eating less, laying out straight beside her in bed instead of burrowing in the blankets, that kind of thing… only for the vet had told her that her snake wasn’t sick, it was preparing itself to eat her.

It was not a particularly great thought to have.

Especially not when someone had, apparently, found their hideout. His fan club was supposed to have stopped it. Why hadn’t they?

He’d love to pretend that it had been left by a particularly bold fan club member, but zombies can’t read.

Yuu pulled the flyer from his pocket again, squinting down at the words.

Hm. It was… in English. That was… a choice, considering they lived in Japan. Yuu had taken English classes before, but it had been ages since he had even thought about school, and languages tend to slip away when you don’t use them. He could, probably, sound out the letters, but that wouldn’t help if he didn’t know what the sounds meant.

He glanced at Grim. Hiding amongst the shelves, peering at him from behind what had probably been a ketchup bottle once, but was now a weird, dark brown color. He wondered, absently, if the zombie could speak in English.

Then decided it didn’t matter – Grim wouldn’t tell him, anyway.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Deal with this for me, please?”

But Grim… didn’t.

The next day, there was another flyer. Yuu frowned, wondering, absently, whether the cultist fight had hit the Zombie Supply Chain a little too heavily. He doubted it, if only because that should have been a beating for the cultists, what with how much they had been outnumbered. Yuu would have been surprised if any died, let alone enough that his entire stalker base would suddenly go missing.

Maybe ugly-bob-man was on vacation. Or something. He wouldn’t stay gone long, though, not if Yuu was in danger. The perpetrators would become well-acquainted with him soon enough.

And yet, the day after that, there were three more fliers.

This time, Yuu hesitated, genuinely considering telling Ace and Deuce, before deciding he really didn’t want to. Things had settled down somewhat, and they’d just had a long few weeks. They deserved, like, a month of relaxation before the bullshit started up again. And this would definitely trigger his friends’ paranoia.

Yuu didn’t want to have to deal with that.

He didn’t even want to deal with his own (totally nonexistent) trauma, thank you very much!

Still, he sighed as they settled down for bed that night, and said, “Do either of you know any English?”

“Not really,” said Ace, shaking his head just slightly as he settled down against Yuu’s chest. “I know a couple of words, ‘cause tourists used to stop me from time to time to ask for directions and shit, but usually I just used Google Translate, y’know?”

Yuu nodded, because he absolutely did know.

He also thought it was annoying that Americans always came up to him in Japan expecting him to know English for them. They were the ones visiting! They should be the ones making the effort to learn how to speak with him!

There. His weekly rant about Americans is over. Time to tune in for Deuce’s answer.

“I know some!” he said.

Yuu blinked. “Really?”

Deuce said something that Yuu couldn’t understand.

Yuu clapped politely. “What’s’it mean?”

“‘Hand over the money’,” Deuce said.

“... Deuce,” said Yuu.

“What the fuck,” Ace said, emphatically.

Deuce huffed. “It’s still more than you can do.”

“That is not what I’m talking about and you know it.”

“Maybe I don’t, huh, have you ever considered that?!”

“Aw, practically bilingual and yet you can’t understand a basic sentence?”

Yuu ignored their bickering. There wasn’t any real heat behind any of Ace’s words, so he didn’t have to fear Ace stabbing Deuce out of anger. And, if Deuce tried to punch Ace, he’d have to move a lot beneath Yuu to do it, and that should be enough to wake him up before a real fight could break out.

So, he was free to drift.

Dully, he thought that it wouldn’t matter if he told them about the flyers. Neither of them would know what it said, either.

It could be someone asking to team up, for all they knew – they hadn’t been killed yet! That was a good sign!

But Yuu knew that Ace and Deuce would not see it that way until they were sure what the words said. He should try to find an English-to-Japanese dictionary before telling them about it. No need to worry them over what could be nothing.

Unfortunately for him, he didn’t seem to have a choice.

He wasn’t a pious guy, but he was starting to become one. If only because there was no way there wasn’t someone up there laughing evilly as he went through The Horrors again.

Yuu woke up to a dark store. Because the store was always dark at night, that’s the whole point of nighttime. He didn’t feel tired enough to go back to sleep, though. He blinked a few times to let his vision adjust to the darkness, absently pushing Ace’s head away, grimacing at the wet spot of drool that the boy had left on his chest. Why had he started sleeping in the same bed as his friends again?

Right. The futon.

Worth it.

He, slowly, extracted himself from the cuddle pile, careful not to wake either of his friends.

And then he started making his way to the front of the store.

He had woken up early, after all, he might as well see if he could catch the particularly determined salesmen in the act –.

Hm.

It might not be nighttime.

Yuu stared at the layers upon layers of fliers pasted to their door. A little awed, a little horrified.

He ignored the normal chime of the bell above the door in favor of stepping outside.

Fuck it was bright out. Yuu gave a hiss, immediately covering his eyes with his hands, almost blinded by the appearance of the stupid sun.

He heard what sounded like a laugh.

It… didn’t belong to Ace or Deuce.

Yuu flinched away from the sound, immediately dropping his hands.

There were two tall, blurry figures, both standing a little too close comfort. But they didn’t try to touch Yuu, they simply… stood there, dark figures that loomed over him just slightly, waiting for his eyes to adjust.

Honestly, it was a little menacing.

But Yuu preferred this over an outright murder attempt.

“... who’re you?” Yuu asked, rapidly blinking the tears at the corners of his eyes away, trying to take in anything about the people in front of him. Their hair looked somewhere between blue and green, so his vision must have been really fucked up.

Or maybe it was just a lingering effect of the two separate times Yuu had experienced blood loss. Or the concussion he was still, probably, recovering from! Frankly, Yuu was the chew toy of the Gods, and it was not fun!

“I’m Jade. This is my brother, Floyd,” a cool voice said.

Yuu nodded along. The names were a little strange, but he knew of a guy named Riddle, so it wasn’t too big of a deal.

“My name’s Yuu –.”

“We know.”

Oh! Okay! So the menacing vibes are certainly not going away!

No, he is just paranoid. Surely. There are normal, not horrifying reasons for them to know who Yuu is.

“Cool, cool, cool,” said Yuu, unsure how else to react. “Do you, like, know me from school or something? I’m sorry, I don’t really remember…”

“Why haven’t you been reading our flyers, ne, Yuu?” Floyd almost whined, which wasn’t exactly an answer to his question.

“I can’t read them – even if I wanted to, it’s impossible,” Yuu snapped. “I don’t know how you expect anyone to read English in Japan.”

“... oh,” said the second one.

“Yeah. Oh,” Yuu said, sighing. His vision had finally cleared, for the most part. Their hair really was blue-green, it seemed. Yuu figured that made sense – surely Deuce couldn’t be the only person with skewed priorities, though Yuu had been sure that most people who were dumb enough to bother with their hair during the apocalypse had died off by now.

“We can read it to you, then!” the second one said, a hand on Yuu’s shoulder.

It was his good shoulder, thankfully, so it didn’t hurt, but it was still a little more familiar than Yuu would usually prefer.

Before he could protest this, though, he found himself being dragged over to the wall of flyers.

He glanced behind himself, toward the boy’s brother (twin, maybe?), Jade, who had seemed more calm and collected, but the guy didn’t seem all that intent on helping him.

Great!

Where the fuck was Grim?!

“See, it says here that we’ve cleared out an old mall, so we’re inviting everyone to come live as part of a society again! It’ll be great!”

“Oh,” said Yuu. He blinked at the pair, unsure why they put him off so much. Like, sure, they were probably stupid – there was no way that plan would end well – but that shouldn’t make him uncomfortable… well, they had blue-green hair, so maybe that was just triggering his oh god I’m cursed senses? “Uh. No thanks. Going to the Cornucopia in the Hunger Games sounds safer than whatever bloodbath is gonna happen there.”

Jade smiled, his eyes gleaming strangely in the light. They were light brown, he was pretty sure, but they looked slightly off in a way he couldn’t really describe – glassy, maybe? But he certainly didn’t look like he was close to tears…

“You misunderstand, Yuu. This isn’t an offer. We are telling you that you’re coming with us.”

“Oh!” said Yuu, again. He forced a smile. “Coolcoolcool. Counteroffer.”

Yuu slid a knife into Floyd’s side.

… neither of them seemed to mind all that much.

Floyd merely pouted, as if offended.

Yuu yanked the knife back out – more out of confusion than anything. Normally, he would leave the knife in, because taking it out would put Floyd at risk for bloodloss, and if anyone knew how much of a bitch bloodloss could be it was Yuu…

But the blood that bubbled from Floyd’s new wound was sluggish, darker in color than it should have been.

Yuu stepped back, nearly stumbling over a curb, his knife out in front of him. “What the – what are you?!”

Jade drew his lips into a frown, but it was more mocking than anything. “All that pouting over the past few weeks about how us zombies aren’t talking to you, and when we finally do you go and stab us. How hypocritical.”

What?!

#twisted wonderland #ace trappola #deuce spade #twst yuu #twst grim #jade leech #floyd leech #THE ELECTION IS NOT HAPPENING IF I DONT LOOK AT IT

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