#they’ll make him some fancy clothes too!

[areallysmallmoth]

[sweetie-peaches]

Qsmp apartment au but something is slightly off about everyone there

• those in the complex has built a bit of community around each other, they’re all close. All connected in some way, and they turn a blind eye to others adnormalities

• Tubbo, the local biological engineer (or that’s what he says he is) never actually says where he works. Or who keeps him and Sunny living comfortably in their apartment, with Sunny getting new and fancy clothes almost every week.

• the basement of the complex is blocked off to residents, yet they swear they see Tubbo toting what looks like medical supplies and machine parts to it in the early hours of the morning.

• residents claim to see Phil standing on the roof some time, a weird shadow behind him, he leaves a trail of feathers wherever he goes, despite never seeming to have anything with feathers on him.

• missa who’s skin is always cold, who seems to come and go, like some kind of ghost or reaper

• if you watch closely you’ll see a little girl running up and down the hallways at night, don’t make her notice you though. Charlie is the only one she likes, he’ll talk to her and play with her as though she’s his lost daughter

• BadBoyHalo is the kindest resident, he bakes muffins for the kids and parents regularly, though he does have a mischievous side to him. Try not to shuffle things around too much in his apartment though, you’ll see the sigils carved into the floor and that’s no fun for anyone is it?

• things in the complex disappear sometimes. Don’t worry about it. They’ll come back, if you have to leave your apartment late at night, pretend the ceiling isn’t the floor, and the floor isn’t the ceiling. Step around lights, don’t acknowledge it, you’ll be okay.

• if you see the eyes the eyes see you. Run. Don’t come out, for the sake of everyone and everything you love don’t fucking come out.

Feel free to add more!!

[zriasstuff]

First impressions—Lorenzo Berkshire x reader

Lorenzo Berkshire behaves like the perfect gentleman towards you, but what’s underneath that perfect facade? First impressions don’t last forever…

go to pt.2—> Second chances?

“Look, this one’s sooo pretty!”, your friend Jenny on your right hand side squealed excitedly.

“Oh my god, I have to get this dress”, Anya, your other friend, gushed while already holding five different ones in her hands.

You were also roaming through the countless racks, searching for a new and mature looking dress. In Hogsmeade, a new boutique had just opened and soon enough all the girls stormed inside to get the most beautiful pieces.

Inside the boutique everything was laced with delicacy, elegance and maturity. Three things you wanted more than anything to be a part of yourself. It was about time that you changed your appearance and became a young woman. After all, you were in your fifth year at Hogwarts already.

Not being able to decide between all the gorgeous clothing pieces you picked up, you took all ten of them to try on. Ten was definitely too many though, so some would have to be eliminated. The trying on process sadly didn’t do much for you, you still loved every single piece. Eventually, you come out of the fitting room, upset due to your inability to decide.

“Just buy all of them then”, Anya encourages you, “if you don’t they’ll be sold out and you will never get to try them on again”

That was easy for her to say. She was born into generational wealth and could buy all the clothes, or anything at all, that she fancied. On the other hand, you couldn’t just take home whatever you pleased. Still, you felt lucky that you had the money to buy one or two, so you eyed each piece you grabbed carefully.

“Ugh, they all would look so beautiful on me”, you groan, not wanting to give up even one of them.

When you turn around again to get your friends’ advice, they are nowhere to be seen.

Scanning the area for them, you unexpectedly make eye contact with someone who seemed to have been eying you. You stop looking for your friends, and take a moment to glance into this mysterious persons piercing blue eyes, perhaps for a little too long. He, whoever he was, appears to have taken an interest and started inching towards you.

Suddenly, after not having been able to place him, you recognize who he was. He was one of the guys who always hung around Draco Malfoy, who was a year above you. Even though you were in the same house, you have barely even made contact.

“You’re right”, he approaches you, looking you up and down.

“About what?”, you ask, finding it strange why one would approach you in this way. And as a guy, why would he be in this particular boutique. Was he perhaps shopping for his girlfriend or sister, you wonder.

“They would all indeed look very beautiful on you”, he compliments you charmingly, towering over you, a warm smile on his face as he said that. Sounds like he overheard your little dilemma. Surprised that he was so straight forward, you feel your cheeks heating up a little. While you’re smiling nervously, you manage to mumble out a thank you.

“It would be such a shame, if you had to leave them here”, this guy, whose name didn't even come to your mind, continued the sudden conversation. This guy surely had something planned, with the way he was leading it.

“Yeah, sometimes I wish I could just go shopping limitlessly”, you truthfully admit.

“So what’s your name, darling?”

“Y/n”, you answer while a thousand thoughts circled your mind. Such as how you managed to have caught the attention of this gorgeous, older guy— he surely must’ve approached you because he found you pretty right? And he just called you “darling” in such a heartwarming tone.

You didn’t like where your mind was wandering. All those thoughts, simply because a guy paid you the slightest amount of attention.

How long has it been since a guy had shown the slightest interest in you again? As if the exact time mattered, it had been too long anyway. You start doubting that you were maybe reading too much into his behavior—that your feelings were the ones of a silly little girl who just received some candy. So he called you darling, that doesn’t have to mean anything.

“Pretty”, he notes, “I’m Lorenzo by the way, but you can call me Enzo”.

Alright, you rethink, surely you weren’t reading too much into it. He just complimented you again, the second time within five minutes.

“May I?”, he gently asks, disrupting your small talk. Before you could even respond, he takes the clothes out of your hands. You weren’t sure what to make of this, so you threw him a questioning look. “Let me”, he says, afterwards smoothly grabbing your hand. “Let me what?”, you try to understand his behavior as you’re being led by him.

“Let me spoil you with what you deserve”, he responds so genuinely, but also as if it was the most natural thing in the world. You couldn’t even believe it. He had to be an angel fallen from heaven, with the way he was treating you.

This Enzo, whom you just properly met, was willing to spoil you like a literal princess. This is what teenage romance that your favorite authors write about must feel like.

“Are you kidding?”, you ask in utter disbelief. Not that you were complaining, but it simply felt too unreal, that someone would do this for you without even knowing you.

At the counter, you finally catch your friends, who have become victims of a giggle attack. They kept pointing their fingers at Enzo, maybe demanding some sort of explanation, but you yourself didn’t even know what to make of this.

All you knew was that within the next five minutes, he had paid for all ten pieces you picked out and was carrying the bags for you, like a true gentleman.

“I don’t even know how to thank you for this”, you tell him at the exit of the store, hoping he wouldn’t regret what he just did. What if he demanded you to reimburse him? No, he wouldn’t do that right?

“You wearing one of those would be enough of a thank you.” You can’t help but blush at his words, not believing your luck, that you met a guy this sweet. He was truly everything a girl could ask for.

Generous, handsome, tall, and caring—the whole package.

You saw your friends waving you over to them, so you excuse yourself. As he hands you the bags, his hand lingers on yours for a moment, before you let go and go over to your friends.

On your way you hear Enzo’s voice, causing you to turn around briefly.

“Meet me after dinner tonight, yeah?”

“Of course”, you happily obliged. You couldn’t wait to tell your friends about this perfect guy, and they couldn’t wait to hear the story either.

…

During dinner you kept turning your head to the right, hoping to catch a few glimpses of Enzo, who was sitting only a few seats away from you. You became rather disappointed when he didn’t notice you. Instead, he was laughing with all his friends.

“Y/n, what do you think?”, you hear all of a sudden, pulling you out of your admiration for Enzo. Totally in and out of your head, you try to remember what your friend asked you about. You also wondered whether Enzo had told all his friends about you yet, hopefully in a positive manner.

“Are you so in love with this guy you met four hours ago, that you can’t even focus on your real friends anymore”, she jokes, totally calling you out in your lovestruck behavior. The way you were infatuated with him, one could believe that he snuck you a love potion. But no, he was the first guy that you had ever felt this enchanted by.

In the last remaining minutes of dinner, you were mentally counting down the minutes. Only a little longer, you told yourself, then you could meet with him. Talk with him. Get to know him further. And eventually you would both lean in for a kiss and then…

“Dinner is finished, please go back to your respective common rooms”, Dumbledore's voice echoes through the dining hall, interrupting your daydream. As you’re getting up slowly, you tell your friends to go ahead. When everyone walked out, you saw Enzo separating from his friends to make his way to you. You could barely wait, having anticipated talking with him throughout the entire dinner.

“Hey”, he says, coming up to you.

You say nothing, replying with a simple smile. Deep down you were kind of scared of sounding overly excited, which could possibly scare him off.

“How’s it going?”

“Pretty good, how about you?”, you play your feelings down. You were better than “pretty good”, you were floating on cloud nine. If paradise existed, you were pretty sure that you were there already.

“I see you’re wearing a new dress, you look stunning”, Enzo says while looking you up and down, yet again. Your heart skipped a beat, overjoyed that he took notice. He really did pay attention to you.

“I’m glad.” Little did you know, and he did too, that you only wore this for him to see. It made you happy to know that your efforts weren’t in vain.

“Listen, how about we meet in my dorm?”, he suggested, “have us a little quiet place.” You instantly agreed, but told him that you would come by a little later because you wanted to refresh yourself in your own dorm first.

After all, you wanted everything to be perfect for your first date— wait, you stop your train of thought. Was it even a proper date? You weren’t sure, you’ve never been on one. Either way, you hurriedly skipped off to your dorm, informing all your girlfriends on your meeting.

Being the supportive girlfriends they were, they help you and give you pointers on your hair and makeup.

“I cannot believe that you’re going to be Enzo’s girlfriend”

“I’m so jealous, I wish an older guy would ask me out too”, they rave over your incredible luck.

“Well, I don’t even know if I’m really going to be his girlfriend”, you confess. He did seem interested, but after all you two were on completely different levels. What gave you comfort was that he seemed to be one of the nicer guys.

After one more glance in the mirror, you take off and ask everyone to wish you luck. You tried to be as quick as possible, not wanting to miss out on moments that you could’ve spent with Enzo.

Carefully, you sneak over to the boys’s dorms and you realize that you didn’t know which one Enzo slept in. So, you wander door to door, abruptly stopping when you recognize Enzo’s voice. His dorm door was open by a slit, so you lean in a little to listen. You knew it was sneaky, but you just couldn’t fight off your curiosity…

At first you couldn’t make out their indistinct words, but suddenly Enzo got a little louder. He sounded completely different from when you talked with him earlier.

“Fuck no!”, he scoffed loudly. You didn’t know what he rejected so angrily, but it only piqued your curiosity. You guessed that he was in the process of kicking his friends out to spend some time with you.

“Do you honestly think I care about her?” Enzo threw the question around. Upon hearing that you felt your heart standing still. Who was he talking about?

“Ok but if you don’t actually like her, then why go through the effort of chasing her down in that boutique”, Draco’s voice hollered all the way to you. After hearing that, even the tiniest hope—that he didn’t mean you, diminished within seconds.

“Yeah, you could literally have any girl you want, without spending a coin”, Blaise stated so painfully blatantly.

“You guys don’t get it”, Enzo defended his questionable, and apparently exaggerated, efforts to get you.

“My purchase barely cost me anything in terms of money, I have enough of that. But in return, I get a young, stupid and attractive girl who’ll do anything for me, because subconsciously she thinks she owes me”

Never in your entire life have you heard such a disgusting thing. For him you turned out to just be eye candy. A mere investment if you were being completely cynical.

Without wanting to hear more of what he had to say, you ran off back to your own dorm. His words rung in your head, stinging harder than you could have imagined. Back at your dorm, you barge in and burst into tears in front of all your friends. You’ve been holding them in ever since you heard his hurtful words.

After jumping on your bed, you instantly sink your head into a pillow. The darkness helped a little in blocking out everything. How could he have been so manipulative, and how stupid were you to have actually fallen for that?

His words may have been disgusting, but what was worse, was that they were true. Perhaps you would’ve really done anything he asked for in his dorm, had you not overheard their conversation.

With your makeup ruined and mascara running down your cheeks, you finally look up to answer to your friends’ concerns. All of them huddled around you, already comforting you even though they didn’t even know what happened. As you’re retelling what you overheard, you’re barely able to look them in their eyes. That’s how embarrassed you were.

When you were done, none of them could believe how sick and twisted Lorenzo Berkshire really was. Under that nice guy facade, hid a ugly and cunning playboy. At least Draco was open in showing what an asshole he was, this way he couldn’t really surprise you. But with Enzo, his first impressions were deceitful, which was way worse.

But under all your anger for Enzo, you were scared. Scared of the fact that Enzo was the first guy you’ve ever had real feelings for. Of course you only felt that way because he schemed and you fell right into his trap.

Still, a little part of your heart shattered upon the cruel reality. You didn’t want to believe it. A tiny guilt feeling part of you wanted so badly to walk up to his dorm again and to pretend nothing happened. It’d be easier than accepting his true intentions.

A sharp knock suddenly catches all of your attention. You must’ve been bawling out your eyes for a while now. You realize that Enzo had no idea about what happened and was still waiting for you.

“Can I come in”, you all hear him say from the other side of the door.

“FUCK Y-”, Anya begins yelling, before you immediately cover her mouth with your hand. You know she only meant the best, but you did it for a reason.

Everyone looked at you confused, trying to make out what you were thinking.

“Don’t let him know yet”, you whisper decisively, hoping he couldn’t hear you through the door.

They all ask why not, and truthfully you also weren’t too sure. But it felt more secure at the moment to not reveal your cards yet. Who knew how you could utilize the information you had. Ironically you learned that from Enzo in the past ten minutes.

“Is everything okay?”, he asks through the door, unsure of what was happening. What an amazing actor, pretending to genuinely care. How could one be so shamelessly two faced.

“You know what Enzo, I’m feeling a little sick”, you lie, trying to sound composed and calm. You couldn’t face him just yet.

“I'm sorry to hear that, I could-”

“I think it’s best if we just talk tomorrow”, you stop him before he could go on with more of his bullshit. In all honesty, talking to him was the last thing you wanted, but you had to sound believably fine.

“If you say so. Good night then”, and with that you heard his leaving footsteps.

“What are you doing?” Jenny asks you with a puzzled expression.

You explain to all of them that you need some peace right now to deal with your emotions and thoughts. The whole Enzo thing needed some time to be dealt with.

Since you were obviously in a bad headspace, they understand and leave you alone.

When lying in bed and processing your emotions from before, all the sadness, anger, embarrassment and fear—you suddenly feel something else too. You deeply wanted him to feel as foolish as you did too. You wanted him to regret his stupid little plan forever. You seeked for more than simply forgiving and forgetting, you wanted revenge.

[raikan624]

Make 'em Pay

Summary: Dally and Reader get into an argument and Reader leaves so he can calm down, but this action has consequences.

Contains: Dallas x Reader, no use of y/n, reader’s gender is unspecified, Tim Shepard and his gang mentioned

Warnings: Mentions of arguing, mentions of violence, Dally may be a bit out of character, Dally calls the reader ‘mine’ once

Prompts: N/A

A/N: This is kinda cringey, mb

You and Dally had gotten into some insignificant argument over something dumb. It got heated quite quickly. You had left to give Dallas time to cool off.

A bit of time had passed, a good hour or two, and you decided that it was alright to go back. You were walking down on the sidewalk, minding your own business and whatever, when you heard the familiar rumble of a car. It stopped nearby behind you and you heard car doors slamming shut. Before you knew it, you were grabbed by some Socs and they had quickly shoved you down to the ground. They had got on top of you and punched you a few times, pulling out a blade and bringing it dangerously close to your face. They all looked similar - all Socs look rather cut from the same cloth than not - with their slicked back hair, smell of English Leather shaving lotion, and tacky, fancy clothes. They’d hit you a few more times real hard and you were out cold.

When you came to, you were laying there on the sidewalk, and you felt a sharp pain thrumming throughout your whole body when you moved. You carefully got up after a minute of just sitting there and processing all the pain in your body.

You stumbled through the streets. Nobody really batted an eye at your state. When you had finally reached Buck Merril’s place, you opened the door, walking through the bar and up the stairs into Dally’s room. When you had hobbled in with forming bruises and a bloodied lip, Dally looked over at you. His eyes kind of widened and he stood from where he was on the bed, muttering a curse or two.

“What the hell happened to you?” He asked incredulously, sitting you down and rummaging around for something to clean you up with - something like that. You told him what happened from when you were walking back here and heard what you assumed to be a Mustang behind you to when you limped back here. Dally made a noise mixed between a scoff and a groan - both out of frustration. He left the room and presumably went down to the bar. When he came back, he tossed you an icepack for the bruises, then set down a med kit with disinfectant and some Band-Aids and stuff, along with a clean-looking rag. Well, you hoped it was clean, at least; you weren’t sure that all of the stuff at Buck’s was actually clean. He wet the rag with a bit of water and took your face in his hand, wiping your lip with it and cleaning up the cuts there on your face. That was about all he did to help you, though - he didn’t care much about other people. He was hardened beyond feeling and care. But you could tell he was a bit pissed off by the mean look in his eyes. He didn’t seem too pleased that you’d been jumped.

Dally was grumbling about something, but you couldn’t make out what he was saying other than stuff like, “Gonna find who did this” and “They’ll regret it”, but he sat down next to you on the bed and slung an arm ‘round your shoulder. He let out a light scoff and held you a bit closer. He asked you what the Socs looked like and you did your best to describe them to him, but that was about it. He would damned well make sure that they’d pay for jumping you; someone who the whole town knew was under his protection.

Before you knew it, you were dead asleep. Dally had left to “make a call” or something, and you kind of just crashed out on his bed. Hours passed by like a breeze. Sometimes you drifted in and out of consciousness and you’d hear somewhat familiar voices like Dally’s and Tim Shepard’s and some of his outfit nearby but couldn’t articulate what they were saying, then just fell back asleep.

The next time you came to, there was Tim Shepard and his outfit sitting around nearby, probably some of them downstairs at the bar, too. Music was still playing on the radio - Hank Williams - and there was some commotion down stairs other than the bits of conversation in the room. When your eyes landed on Dally, he was a bit busted up and his knuckles were bloody. You came to realize that the Shepard’s gang was all roughed up, too. Dally had this wild, reckless grin on his face, same with some of the others. You sat up and rubbed your eyes, which garnered Dally’s focus and attention.

“Hey.” He greeted, his eyes trained on you. You mumbled out some form of an inquiry on what happened to them.

“Jumped a few Socs with the Shepard gang, no big deal.” He answered while he was taking care of his battered knuckles. So he’d organized a fight on my behalf with the Shepards, you thought.

Some of Tim Shepard’s buddies gave little snickers and chuckles at the memory of presumably beating the group of Socs real good, but they eventually left to go downstairs to the bar with the rest of their pals, leaving you and Dally alone. You mumbled out some sort of thanks to him as you watched him patch up the cuts on his knuckles and the other minor cuts and scrapes. A few minutes later, he padded over and climbed into the bed next to you, lazily draping his arm over you. He was mumbling something but you couldn’t understand what he was saying.

“That’s what they get for messin’ with what’s mine. Should’ve known better..” He scoffed.

@lizzy019 This has been sitting for a while cuz I wasn't sure if I should post it lmao

[aspiring-house-husband]

werewolves attempt to keep to themselves, mostly. they live as wolf packs in state game lands and national parks, keeping the ecological balance. every once in a while they’ll live on unclaimed lands, and when they do, they eventually make deals with landowners. 

your pack lives on thousands of acres owned by one man. he lives a fairly modest life; he just wants to keep out in the woods and tend his koi ponds. he is quite respectful to your pack, waving when you travel by and staying out of the part of the forest that you’ve requested. 

he’s never a problem. occasionally, though, he brings guests. those you have to watch more closely. 

they’re always good, too. you have to assume that the owner talks to them, tells them not to go off his paths, tells them to clean up after themselves. but that doesn’t meant that there can’t be sentries posted to make sure they don’t wander too far. 

usually, it’s the same family. must be some friends of the owner who bring their progeny. there’s a grandfather with his cane and his wisdom. there’s his daughter, with her happy smile and tendency to keep the campfires roaring. and then the daughter’s children. 

she has an oldest son, the most responsible. he has a family of his own now, a wife and toddler son to chase around and feed marshmallows to. there’s a middle daughter, who travels and has stories to tell. 

and not every time, but with rare luck, their youngest son travels to join them. and whenever you’re on sentry duty, he catches your eye. 

the others are respectful. they have fun, they clean up, they sigh and enjoy the wind. the youngest, though, he seems to revel in it. he strolls around the large fields and checks himself for ticks. he turns his face to the wind and closes his eyes like he can understand the twists and breezes. he runs barefoot, and while he’s not very fast, his form is almost familiar. he points out poison ivy and knows which woods burn the best and can tell which streams are safe to drink. he’s a bit small, but the way he entertains and plays with his nephew makes you imagine him taking care of pups, and even though you know it won’t take, you crave to fuck him full of them. 

he’s perfect. and one weekend, when all the others leave, he stays alone. 

the property is wide and beautiful. the parts of it that are more ‘tamed’ include a pond, a fire pit, a hammock, and an elevated pavilion. he sits there most of the day, just looking off into the forest. he almost seems like he longs for it. 

so you’re a bit daring. you stalk forward from the woods, hulking and rippling muscle and canine teeth parted to allow scent to pass through. 

he seems scared, but he doesn’t move. he lets you travel to him, and only twenty feet away does he step back. so you sit down and transform, and you watch his handsome face as he realizes what you are. 

“hello,” you tell him, and he shakes his head like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. you can’t blame him. he’s speechless, even a moment later, so you stand and approach him. he holds his ground this time, letting you come all the way up to his space, letting your hands wander over his torso. he seems to entertain you, letting you do as you please. 

emboldened, you tilt his chin up, and lavish your tongue over his neck. he’s missing the scent gland there, but you don’t mind, his own scent is perfect enough. he lets out a soft sigh, and that’s all you need. 

there’s a fancy table in the center of the pavilion. all it matters to you is that it doesn’t tip when you lift him and set him on it, pulling his clothing from his body. he can’t help but to touch you as you do, now gingerly giving kisses back across his shoulders and neck, and he teases his teeth across your skin. the sensation sets you alight, and even moreso you want him. you want him as yours. 

your weeping cock slides between his thighs a few times before he opens his legs to you and lays back, arching up his back as you prep him sloppily and hastily with your fingers. it’s all you have not to fuck into him, to pop your knot inside him, claim him and mark him and bite him and change him. you can barely stop yourself, but you do, and your reward is his sultry moan as you fuck him onto your fingers. 

you tell him your name just so he can moan it as you finally thrust inside him, all the way up to your swollen knot. he all but screams, bucking his hips already in pleasure, whimpering and panting. if you didn’t know better, you’d think him in heat. 

“please, please,” he begs, and you don’t know what he begs for, but even so you grab onto his hips and thrust into him, building a rhythm that hints to a crescendo of his moans getting higher and higher pitched, his legs locking behind you, his hole clamping down on you. you start to fear you won’t fit inside him with how desperately he tightens around you, so you pull him to you as you snap your hips forward, and he paints his own chest with the force of his orgasm at being knotted. 

you collapse onto his chest, still weakly thrusting as you pump him full. you can’t help but clamp your teeth down, only controlling yourself enough to not break skin. he lifts one hand to pet your hair, panting under your body, still sounding and smelling of heat. 

you have him twice more before the day is up. he turns up at a lot more of those family gatherings after that. he lounges in the woods with you, promising that one day, he’ll let you bite him for real, and bind him to the forest for good. 

[cult-of-a-buttercup]

Headcanons of the Old Faith: Anchordeep

Darkwood

Anura

Narinder’s Faith

Silk Cradle

Festivals:

The festivals held in Anchordeep aren’t many, and aren’t as casual as some held in other lands.

Whenever Anura holds their festival for wines and beers, most Anchordeep followers like joining in- they might now enjoy beer, but if you ask any of them they’ll talk wonders about the wine and signature drinks sold there. Kallamar used to attend as well, until one day when both bishops got into a quarrel because the bishop of pestilence refused to drink something Heket had created, be it because of his paranoia or because of some sort of prank.

Anchordeep also holds its own festivals, the most popular one being an artisan gallery where artists, jewelry makers and writers sell their best works. During the duration of this celebration, merchants of other islands also drop by to sell things from their own lands, resulting in a good place to exchange things such as relics and treasures.

There is also a small festival, or rather a competition, to collect the crystals that grow along the depths of Anchordeep and the caves along the beach. Whoever collects the most has the honor of gifting them to Kallamar (though he gets all of them anyways) and gets a piece of jewelry from his own collection.

Rituals:

Most rituals of Anchordeep are simply there to fill doctrines and Kallamar’s ego.

At the start of every season, Kallamar has all of his followers reunite in his temple to do a massive healing ritual: to stay healthy for the next few months, everyone must bring forward an offering. It can be gold, gemstones, different types of jewelry or praisings of the Great Pestilence. Paintings, poetry and sculptures all count as praisings, and often give an extra boost when brought forward to the bishop. He still heals followers who don’t bring gifts that meet his standards, but appearing empty handed can be the cause of a totally unrelated pest- either in a household or to a specific follower.

Besides that, Kallamar hosts balls every full moon so his followers could thank him for keeping sickness at bay, again. The dance lasts the whole night, and is followed by three days of holy rest. Those who didn’t attend often get sick with small sicknesses, but those who would miss every ball for a period of time were taken as prisoners and questioned- Kallamar saw them as heretics, making plans and schemes to take him down while he’s too busy to notice.

Since Anchordeep is filled with fancy buildings to keep up its image of the “better cult”, Glory of Construction rituals are held every month, after careful planning of where new buildings should go and which buildings could use a new coat of paint. Despite it meaning new decorations, something most of Kallamar’s followers love, the ritual itself it’s quite disliked due to them not really wanting to do the hard work- which is why a follower can spend an amount of its own savings to request for a follower from Anura to do the work for them, with and official request from Kallamar of course.

Anchordeep’s weddings are, of course, grand. They are held individually, are overseen by high priests and officiated by Kallamar himself- they have months if not years of thought put to them, since the decoration of the ceremony has to stand out from the other weddings held in the rooms of the temple. Because of this, they are the most expensive weddings amongst the Old Faith, but are seen as absolutely worth it. The clothes are made of fine fabric, decorated with seashells, crystals and sometimes different types of seaweed.

However, funerals are not held at all- its association with death are too heavy for Kallamar to be okay with them, so instead followers of Anchordeep are sent to Silk Cradle or Darkwood to mourn their loved ones, the choice of which land to go to up to the follower. Unlike Heket’s followers however, they are given enough gold for the trip, and a few days of rest after coming back from their travels.

Worshipping:

To worship Kallamar one must show appreciation for health. Which can be shown easily by strutting around Anchordeep, attending sermons and attending any sort of ritual held by the bishop of pestilence. If not shown through this, gifts and offerings also can work quite nicely. If a follower gets sick, be it because of bad luck or because of a lack of worship, it can be easily fixed by offering Kallamar gifts, or simply singing him his praises.

Clothing:

It is no surprise that most of Anchordeep’s cultists prefer to be covered in jewelry from head to toe, fin or tentacle. Due to being underwater, clothes are often flowy and thin to not weigh too much, especially combined with tons of jewelry. There are certain doctrines on what to wear when out and about, mainly to keep up an image. Clothes cannot look old, be ripped or not be adorned with at least one piece of silver or gold, preferably real silver or real gold.

Amongst cultists:

With Kallamar’s following being used to the more glamorous and vain lifestyle of their leader, a lot of them work as high class artists or spell casters. Big gatherings for either balls, masquerades or other fine activities are the usual, anything less than being found lowbrow or just plain mockery.

Anchordeep’s riches allow it to be more of a citadel, being a good place for writers, artists, spellcasters and architects to grow in. The streets are filled with fine establishments of everything you can imagine, more often than not thriving with the snobbery of the followers living there- due to this, scams are a constant danger. Though most of the time if a follower gets caught in one they’re too prideful to actually admit it.

It was also the cult with the most lambs before Narinder’s imprisonment. Once the prophecy of a lamb liberation came around, Kallamar ordered the capture of all lamb followers- they were soon sent to Silk Cradle to be held in prisons until the bishops figured what to do.

Outside of Anchordeep, this underwater city seems to be the most popular place to live in, due to its low danger and luxurious customs. Though, it is also seen as a place filled with snobs, lacking in actual substance when looking behind the decorated buildings, fancy gatherings and golden lamps.

[sparklingcid3r]

wut do u think the situation was like when ponyboy "caught" darry wearing the madras shirt paul "got" for him?

Yall can shoot me down for this but I don’t think Darry even knows Pony saw him wearing the shirt at all🙏

I think what happened was Pony not being able to sleep at like two in the morning, so he goes into the kitchen to nurse a glass of milk and wait until he’s a little more tired. The night is alive with creatures buzzing and humming and the door swings open.

Pony looks up, startled nearly to fear, but he relaxes once he sees it’s only Darry. Darry who, for all his stern “no smoking” rules when they’re within five feet of him, is definitely, absolutely drunk.

Not sloppy, though. Pony didn’t think it was possible for Darry to make a fool of himself under any kind of influence, and alcohol was no exception. His brother knew to tug the screen all the way closed and then lock the door behind him, but he didn’t seem to notice Pony from the kitchen, which wasn’t his fault—Pony knew how to make himself small.

But it was his clothes that struck Pony as funny. Not even Dad owned a madras shirt, so what in the fresh hell was Darry doing with that on his back?

He couldn’t push the issue. Darry was stumbling back to his bedroom and Pony wasn’t eager to get caught.

Then one or two years later, Pony needs new shoes and Darry can’t afford them at the moment. His eyes are harder by then, and sashed with bruises that never go away. He tells Pony to go into the back of his closet to wear some of his old ones for now.

Pony is rifling through the closet, sometimes pausing to reminisce or wonder about a few items, and in the very back he sees a sleeve sticking out from underneath his old football stuff. The fabric looks fancy as hell, so he tugs it free.

It takes Pony a long while of staring to finally remember where he’s seen this before. It’s wrinkled bad now, from God knows how long spent buried on the floor, but Darry used to wear it when he went out with Paul and the Socs. Pony was sure of it.

Darry’s hollering from the living room about him being a snoop, so he shoves the shirt back where he found it and grabs the shoes that are definitely too big for his feet to fill, but they’ll do for now.

He closes the door, leaving the nicest shirt Darry’s ever owned to keep on collecting dust.

[trobedgirldads]

Favorite Cooliver headcannons?

ooooooooo okok i’m probably gonna forget some but here are some of my favs!!!!! (also plz plz plz y’all tell me yours!!!!!)

really long list under the cut :p

-they’re cat ppl. idc. like they don’t hate dogs or anything but when they’re all grown up their first pet as a couple is an orange cat :)

-normally i’m a huge supporter of every ship ever being girldads (literally my user lol) and like… cooliver are girldads but they’re also soooo boydads. they have a son. his name is spencer. also their daughter is probably named after katie

-OLIVER IS A CUDDLER. HE ALWAYS DENIES IT. BUT HE LOVES CUDDLING.

-^cooper is normally the big spoon

-cooper has really bad eyesight. he wears contacts normally, but then oliver sees him in glasses once and is like constantly begging him to wear his glasses bc they look soooo good on him

-obviously cooper calls oliver every spanish pet name ever

-cooper cooks, oliver does laundry

-when they get married, they consider hyphenating but they end up just being oliver and cooper otto

-when they kiss, cooper tastes like oranges (i literally wrote a whole fic about this) and oliver tastes like licorice

-they had their first kiss when they were 14 (cough cough s3 e5 “trust me” cough cough) and maybe had a few more casual kisses and moments after that but didn’t actually officially get together until the summer between junior/senior year of high school (so like right after s5)

-before they got together, oliver would always make fun of triplor for being so touchy/pda-heavy but then after he and cooper got together they’re even worse

-cooper asks greg and katie for permission before proposing. he knows they’ll say yes, but he still wants to ask.

-^they have a HUGE fancy proposal but actually a pretty small wedding

-when they start college they try to live separately for a bit but then they can’t do it bc they’re already too used to living together

-the version of katie’s 40th birthday pic w cooper and trip in it is framed and hung up in their house

-cooper never explicitly comes out to oliver, it just is something they’re both aware of

-sometimes cooper will just say something super out of pocket and oliver will be like “wtf are you talking about……. wait no you have a point actually”

-this is so engrained in my mind that i genuinely forget that iirc it’s not actually canon: they share clothes. like they don’t even really have separate parts of the closet. once oliver is tall enough that they’re the same size, all their clothes are communal property between the two of them

-^with that being said, there are a few sweatshirts that are distinctly oliver’s and cooper LOVES stealing them. especially if oliver has to go out of town for a business trip or something, he’ll sleep in them and stuff

[reminiscentreader]

Hawthornes Kids headcanons.

I love these so much so why not make some of my own.

Grayson and phone girl (ik they’ll get married try and stop me) have a beautiful little girl, I think she’d have a really fancy name like, Beatrice or Desireè

Jameson and avery have one boy and one girl, (the girl is younger) called like Oliver and Madeline I think.

Max and xander have one little boy called Archer

Nash and Libby have two older twin girls called Sophie and Lilia.

Nash and Libby’s twins would always fight about stuff e.g hairbrushes, clothes and Nash would have to discipline them cause Libby hates telling off her little girls.

they both ride horses, their dad takes them every week for lessons.

On Saturdays there mum bakes for them (and they sometimes help her) and they love her cookies 🍪

Graysons daughter is very very shy, and since I think Grayson wouldn’t want to stay in Hawthorne house with the others, his daughter isn’t as close with her cousins as they are with eachother

She has blonde curly hair that her mother takes very good care of.

Other than the curly hair she looks exactly like Grayson.

She would go to a private school in either New York or London (you cannot convince me that Grayson doesn’t move to either one of those places)

although she looks like Grayson, she’s very sweet and is just like a really really shy version of Gigi.

she definitely has dimples.

and a big fluffy white cat called socks taht grayson has personal beef with.

She really loves animals so when they visit Hawthorne house Nash’s girls would always show her there horses.

Grayson absolutely spoils her, she mentions she wants something once? She’s got it, although I do think Grayson would discipline her and tell her to wait for Christmas or her birthday.

she’s a June baby

She always has a ribbon in her hair

when she was a bit younger and went to visit Hawthorne house she would hide behind a wall and watch her cousins play because she wanted to play with them but was too scared to ask 🥲

But eventually Jamesons daughter noticed her and invited her to play with them.

I also think she’d be suprisingly funny

Jamesons son is a nightmare.

he’s just like his father but so much worse, he’s definitely a crazy kid who runs around the house naked screaming that he wants mashed potatoes.

He plays football and in high school is like the ultimate popular kid.

I also agree with @hathorneheiress that he would be terrified of Grayson

He definitely hit his parents when he was little and didn’t get what he wanted.

he grew out of it though.

however, his sister was more of a whiner.

she looked just like Avery

she’s a little quieter than her brother and like her mother to read to her.

she’s very extroverted though, and can make Graysons daughter very nervous.

she’s on Country heights days debate team.

she then finds out that graysons daughter writes the speeches for her debate club, but doesn’t actually do the debating (cause y’know)

they bond over that and become really close.

She love love love loves butterflies, Jameson once bought her a book on different butterflies and she could name 20 different types by 7

Xanders son Is the perfect mix of him and max

him and Jamesons son get along perfectly

Grayson always catches them doing something they shouldn’t and every time jamesons kid starts crying and begging for Grayson to spare him. Grayson never tells

he really good and science

he once got and award for it in school and xander got him a dozen back of donuts for him to celebrate.

him and Isaiah are really close.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> Hope you enjoyed these, I really loved writing them 😭

[sevenate-9]

wolfstar fantasy au:)

“I'm not dying for you.”

“Is that how the song goes now? Endless devotion to our Lord and King, except we should not die for him?” He sings idly. Remus imagines him swinging his arms, then goes back to pretending there isn’t a prince following him a few steps behind. It’s a feat. “Have they changed it since I've been away?” 

“I never sang it.” He swings his machete at a thin branch at eyelevel. This deep in the woods are thicker than he’s ever seen them, but they’ll need to pass through these parts undetected. The further out of reach from Lestrange’s watchmen’s horses the better.

“They do still make the knights sing it at supper, don't they? It's nothing like dear old dad to disturb a routine.”

Remus represses a scoff. “The king starts snoring halfway through, most days.”

“So then you do sing it.”

“I mouth the words.” 

Sirius guffaws delightedly and Remus regrets showing a slip of skin. “How charming.” He means it, too, Remus doesn't doubt it. "Do they not have an installed punishment for transgressions like those?”

Remus breathes out through his nose. Easy, now. “Flogging,” he grits out. Another branch whips to the ground.

“Ah, so you must be careful,” Sirius says airily. Remus swipes at a thin, low branch needlessly. “I myself have enjoyed thwarting duty over the years. I’ve gotten quite creative with it. Of course, I can't say I got out quite as clean as you have.”

“No?” Remus asks, mocking a conversational voice.

“Well, no, getting sent away was never part of any elaborate prank.”

“It must be the worst thing that has ever happened to you.”

Rustling leaves behind him, then silence. Minutes pass and several branches are cleared before Remus gives up and turns, jaw clenched. 

“Do you mock me?” Sirius asks, looking the part of a lost child, pouting and his torse near drowning in the shirt they’d nicked at the village. 

Remus starts walking back. “Only a man born with polished silver rattle will believe a necklace like that one,” he ticks his machete against the prince’s necklace, the one he’d refused to abandon with the rest of his clothes, poorly concealed under teal cloth “-makes him any sort of martyr.”

“Look,” Sirius levels, “I believe you’ve come to misunderstand a great many things about me. I hate the crown and all its frivolous frivolities as much as you clearly seem to, as much as any upstanding man with half a brain ought to.”

“You believe admitting selfcontempt earns you honor?”

“I am not my family,” Sirius grits out, at last having lost some of his princely levity. “Look at where we are if proof is what you seek, friend. Would true royalty wear cow’s leather boots as decayed as the meat it produced?” They’d had to buy those damn boots. Cost Remus three gold. 

“Any upstanding man would deem those boots fit for wear because they keep infection at bay. A friend, I would not dare call you even if you by all measurements proved to be such a man. You carry the crown in your blood, wherever you may go in whichever boots you so choose to be appointed.”

Sirius looks like he’s swallowed a lemon, eyes close to slits. “You remove choice from a test of merit.”

“You confuse reality with fanciful court fairytales. This is no test for you to pass, any more than this forest is a cave and monsieur Lestrange is a dragon. We are men in dire straits, one of us raised to be more of a self assuming prat than the other. That is all.”

“Well, then.” Sirius tilts his chin up, gesturing the path forward. “I should not wish to distract you from your own martyrdom.”

“Indeed you should not, seeing as it’s the only thing keeping your life,” Remus snarks before resuming his way North.

“But not to penalty of death.” A branch falls. Remus looks over his shoulder, locking eyes with the heir to his home kingdom. 

“No.” 

Sirius nods, as if it were his own choice. Like a prince is taught acquiescence. In his turn, Remus pretends he didn’t hesitate.

[autisticlancemcclain]

The loud creaking noise coming from the walls is worrying, but the wince and muttered “oh, no” by the planet’s official is even worse.

“What’s wrong?” Keith asks warily.

“Oh, nothing to worry about, paladins!” the official says, plastering a smile on her face. “Please, carry on.”

Lance sighs heavily, trying at the last minute to keep the exasperation out of his tone. “Ma’am, there’s no need to shield us. We’re well equipped for an emergency, and happy to help.”

“Oh, you’re guests, I could never —”

Just then the walls creak again, much louder this time, before a gigantic crack appears, spreading across several meters. The official slumps forward. “We’ve been having some problems with our drainage systems,” she explains apologetically. “We were hopeful that there would be no flooding or catastrophes today, but that does not seem to be the case.”

The second the words are out of her mouth, the crack expands further, and water starts rushing out. The gathered people at the gala all make noises of minor alarm, but they’re all clearly used to the struggle, as no one seems too panicked. Lance takes the moment of confusion to step up onto a recently vacated chair.

“I’m so sorry,” says the official again, looking positively mortified. “This is going to have to cut the celebrations short.”

Keith quirks up one half of his mouth, trying his best to smile reassuringly. He looks awkward but determined. Lance looks away, hiding a fond smile.

“It’s fine,” Keith assures. “Do you need our help escorting everyone out?”

The official shakes her head. “No, everyone’s well-used to this at this point. They’ll file out on their own. I would just worry about getting yourselves out and back to your ship, paladins. It may take a while.”

Lance grimaces, glancing at the massive crowd all trying to file through the minimal exits. “Noted.”

The official hurries away, striding to help some of her elderly people make it through the doors first as the water level starts to rise. Nothing alarming, but enough to be frustrating and even a hazard for anyone who struggles to walk.

“Shame this had to end early,” Keith says, looking like it’s quite the opposite.

Lance snorts. “Real shame, I’m sure. Is that why you look like you could sing a tune?”

Keith’s small smile morphs into a full grin, and he shrugs. “No clue what you’re talking about.”

“Mhm. Sure. Let’s get out of here, you hater.”

Keith starts sloshing forward, wading through the now knee-high water. Lance steps from the chair he was standing on to the table and follows.

“You’re going to fall,” Keith says mildly.

Lance ignores him, concentrating on not tripping over plates and cutlery (proving Keith right would be just as bad as falling entirely into the water).

“Am not. Excuse me for not wanting to wade through dirty pipe water.”

“Priss,” Keith teases.

Lance scowls at him. “I’m wearing my nice shoes! And socks are already the worst things in the world, but wet socks? No. I’d rather surgically remove my feet.”

“Well, get your scalpel ready, ‘cause you’re running out of table.”

Lance stops, realising that he is, in fact, running out of table. He’s got maybe three or so meters left before his path gives way to what was once a massive dance floor and is now a pond, and is also the only way to reach the exit.

“Shit.” He shifts his feet, turning to look at Keith. “Maybe I should just wait here. You know, to make sure everyone else gets out safe. And for the water to get drained.”

Keith scoffs. “Fat chance of that. You’ll be here for days, and we have training tomorrow morning.”

Lance huffs, kicking an abandoned platter of appetizers to the side and sitting criss-cross-applesauce on the white tablecloth. “I don’t want to ruin my fancy clothes,” he says petulantly. “Or get wet socks. Why do horrible things happen to beautiful people? I don’t deserve this.”

Keith laughs. A small one, but one where his smile gets wide, showing his crooked incisors and the lines around his eyes. The look of it makes Lance grin back on reflex. Keith shakes his head, teasing, and then opens his arms. “C’mere, then.”

It takes Lance a moment to clock what Keith’s suggesting, but then he scoffs.

“Absolutely not, Mullet.”

The twinkle in Keith’s eyes is something like mischief. “I dunno what your issue is. If I carry you, you don’t ruin your shoes and your feet stay dry. What have you got to lose?”

“My dignity, I would say. You think I’m cool with you carrying me around like some —” Lance flushes at the mere thought — “some damsel, in front of the entire planet that thinks I’m a cool space hero? No way!”

“Well it’s either your dignity or dry feet, princess,” Keith teases. “You can’t have both.”

Lance narrows his eyes at the bastard. “Do you know how irritating it is when you’re both right and being generous, and thus have the moral high ground?”

Keith laughs again, brighter than before, making Lance’s stomach flutter. He opens his arms, wiggling his fingers enticingly. “You made your choice?”

Lance huffs again. “I guess if you’re offer’s still on the table,” he mutters, staring down at his shoes. “I really like these shoes.”

Without another word, Keith shuffles forward, sliding one arm behind Lance’s back and one under his knees. He lifts Lance easily, not even bracing himself or anything.

“Do I weigh anything to you?” Lance demands, fighting off the redness that threatens to overwhelm his face.

Keith smirks. “Nope. Felt like I was lifting a beanstalk.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Mhm. Keep talking shit and I’ll drop you.”

Lance snaps his mouth shut, because Keith absolutely will. As gentlemanly as he’s being right now, his favourite hobby is driving Lance batty, and Lance knows that for a fact. As soon as he decides that it will be funnier to dunk Lance than to carry him, he will.

“You know, this reminds me of something,” Keith muses as they’re halfway across the flooded dance floor.

Lance hums. “Yeah? What’s that?”

“I’m trying to put my finger on it. Early castle days, some sort of disaster, you cradled in my arms?”

“Oh — fuck off!” Lance exclaims, smacking Keith on the chest. “You drama queen!”

Keith sniggers. “I remember it now.” He smooths his face into an exaggerated smoulder. “‘We make a great team,’” he mocks, digging his fingers into Lance’s side.

“I did not say that,” Lance insists, even though he knows it’s futile. They have this exact argument at least once a week and it goes absolutely nowhere.

“You’re right, you didn’t just ‘say that’. You batted your eyelashes at me and made your eyes all big and brown and said it with the sappiest smile on your face —”

“You are delusional—”

“—and then fainted in my arms after holding my hand and gazing into my eyes. And then you got embarrassed and pretended it didn’t happen.”

“It didn’t! You wanted me to flirt with you so bad you dreamed it up!”

“Sure,” Keith says, shifting Lance in his arms. He pays Lance’s thigh condescendingly. “Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

“You are infuriating.”

“And you are the most frustrating person to ever come from planet Earth.”

They continue to bicker back and forth as Keith walks them through the pond, neither of them stopping to even take a breath. They’re the last ones to clear out, so they take their time. (Well, Keith takes his time, walking as slow as he can to increase Lance’s humiliation, and pretending to drop him every few minutes to hear Lance shriek and clutch his shoulders tightly. Because he is the worst.)

“Finally,” Lance grumbles, as they finally approach the doors. “Anyone tell you that you’re the worst taxi ever?”

“I’m going to dunk you,” Keith says pleasantly.

“Yeah, right. You’ve been saying that for twenty minutes.”

“Twenty-one might be the kicker.”

“Sure, and I bet —”

But Lance never gets to say what he bets, because as soon as they cross the threshold out of the ballroom, where everyone else has filed out, he’s interrupted by cheering. He looks up, confused, to find Hunk and Pidge pointing at him and teasingly whooping and hollering. The rest of the gathered crowd is quickly following suit.

Lance, it seems, is the only one being carried over the water like royalty. Even Allura is walking on her own just fine.

“Got a real gentleman, there, Lance,” Shiro calls, impish grin spreading across his face.

“Fuck off,” Lance snaps, face redder than Keith’s stupid jacket. He hides his face in Keith’s chest, which is shaking with the force of his chuckles.

“Shall I let you down?” he whispers.

“Don’t you dare,” Lance whispers back.

“You’re liking this, then.”

The truth is…yeah. As humiliating as it is being cradled in Keith’s arms (again), something primal and petty in Lance is positively preening at the attention, at the knowledge that he and he alone is special enough to be carried around by Keith Kogane. No one else got the special offer to be spared from the filth of the pipe water. No one else gets to feel Keith’s arms around them. No one else gets to feel the heat of his body so close, hear the beat of his heart. Just Lance.

“You’re annoying and I hate you,” Lance says instead of voicing any of that. “You have a thing for embarrassing me, I swear.”

Keith shrugs. The movement makes Lance’s belly swoop. “A little, actually. It’s hilarious when you get all riled up.”

“Yeah, well, you look better when you’re all mad at me! Take that!” As soon as he says it Lance wishes he could reach back in time and smack the shit out of himself. “Fuck — I didn’t mean — that’s not —”

But the damage is already done — Keith’s already grinning widely, smug and horrible and so, so sexy. “I’ll keep that in mind the next time you piss me off on purpose, Bluebell. Maybe I’ll just shut you up with a kiss.”

Lance is too choked up to say a single thing for the rest of the walk to the castle. When he finally gets to his room — free of Keith’s stupid horrible strong arms, might he add — he shoves his face into his pillow and screams himself hoarse.

Keith is the worst, and Lance wants him more than anyone he’s ever known.

———

based on this video

[mxtantrights]

famous dc!au (dick's version)

TRACK SIX: YELLOW

Maybe—no you couldn’t call Dick and cancel. It’s the Grammys! He’s up for an award tonight and he needs to be there. Of course your stomach isn’t agreeing with you and you’ve been rumbling and stressing about what to do whether or not to call him.

The outfit is beautiful. And you’ve done your makeup as well as you can with this sick feeling gnawing at you for hours now. All that was left was for Dick to come over and pick you up. Then the two of you would be on the way there. If you’d make it there without letting out any bodily fluids. Yuck.

There’s a knock on your front door and the noise of it kind of gives you a headache. You walk slowly to answer it, knowing exactly who it is. When you unlock and open the door there he is. He’s not in his suit though. Its dropped over his shoulder in one of those fancy clothing bags. 

“Dick?” you ask.

He smiles, “Hey, how are you?” 

“I’m good, I mean well—do you want to come in?” 

You open your door wider and Dick walks in. You close the door behind him. 

When you turn around to face him you see that he’s found your assortment of teas and gatorades. He’s already set his suit down on the coffee table. He looks at you quizzically.

“Rough night?” he asks.

You sigh, “Yeah that’s what I wanna talk to you about. I don’t think I can make it tonight.”

Dick stands there, looking at you. You think you might’ve broken him. Like actually broken him and he can’t say words and he’s freaking out because he reserved a plus one and now he’s showing up with no one and it won’t look good on him. And he might lose the award because who knows how these things even work really?

“Hey, don’t worry about that. Tell me what’s going on with you.” he says.

You shake your head.

“I’m sorry, last night my stomach was boiling and growling but nothing has, I don’t know, come out. Sorry, that's tmi.” you answer.

Dick laughs at that and then he’s walking over to you. He comes so close there is probably one two feet of distance between you. He grabs your elbows and you can feel his thumbs going back and forth on your skin.

“I’m really sorry to hear that, but we can figure something out. I’ve got the car so I can pick up anything you need.” he says.

“I guess you can pick up some more gatorades and I ran out of bottled water so I’ve been on tap. You should still have time to get to the awards.” 

Dick looks at you like you’ve stopped making sense. Like actually. His eyes are a bit wide but not too wide. And his eyebrows are knitted together.

“I’m not gonna leave you here alone.” he says.

Like it's a fact. Like it's something you should know by now.

You reach out for his shoulders. 

“I’m not gonna let you miss an important night because I’ve got a stomach bug or something.” you say.

Dick smiles, “If I was meant to have the award they’ll still give it to me even if I don’t show up. Don’t worry.”

You are about to talk him out of it when another achy headache starts. You reach for your head and shut your eyes. Dick brings you closer to him and watches over you.

“I’m gonna get the stuff and come back. Get on the couch.” he says.

But he’s not really saying and more so ordering and maneuvering you over to the couch himself. When you take a seat you let out a breath of relief. He puts a pillow behind your head for your comfort and brings up a knitted blanket over your body.

“My keys are in the bowl.” You tell him. 

You can finally hear him answer but honestly the coach feels too good and honestly the dress isn’t that restrictive so you can definitely take a little power nap in it. 

-

Dick can’t believe the first thing that came out of his mouth was ‘how are you’ and not ‘you look breathtakingly beautiful’ or something quick witted. Around you he turns into putty. A sad sack of a lover boy. He can’t believe it.

And seeing you sick was even worse. He wanted to drop all of his plans right there to take care of you but he couldn’t. That would most likely freak you out and no doubt tip you off to his feelings which he’s not ready to talk about yet. He thinks if he tells you how he feel you’ll run for the hills.

So that’s why he’s standing in the soup aisle of the grocery store near your apartment. There were so many options. Options that he had no information on. He didn’t really get to ask what type of soap you like. There were safe bets like chicken noodle soup, lentil soup. But what if you didn’t eat chicken? Or if you didn’t like lentil? Tomato soup sure, but what if you had allergies? Clam Chowder? What if you’re a non-dairy person?

He sighs. Then he pulls out his phone from his pocket and dials the only person who knows what soup would be satisfactory at this time.

“Master Grayson?” 

“Yes Alfred, do you know what soup is good for stomach bug?” Dick asks.

“Oh I think chicken and vegetables. If not that Miso soup.” Alfred answers.

Dick nods his head, placing his phone in-between his ear and his shoulder. Then he’s reaching for the canned miso soup and the vegan chicken noodle soup, and the non-vegan chicken noodle soup. Just incase. He places all three into the basket.

“So you won’t be going to the show tonight?” Alfred asks.

“Nah, Alfie. Can’t.” Dick says.

“Sorry to hear that. Well, give the patient my best wishes.” Alfred adds.

Dick hears the phone disconnect before he can say anything. He thinks it was weird that Alfred knew it wasn’t him the was sick. But then again the man has taken care of him for so many years he would know if Dick was sick or not.

Dick rushes to the self-check out with a basket full of gatorade, soup and a gallon of water. He would splurge on more but he doesn’t want to push any boundaries. So he goes with what you asked him to get.

When Dick finishes, loads the bags into his car, and sits in the drivers seat he feels it. It’s a certain kind of peace. Even though tonight is supposed to be more stressful than any other night for him, he’s okay. Because he’s not going to the awards, he’s staying with you. Now if only he could convince you of it.

-

When you wake up it’s to the sound of glasses clinking. You open your eyes and see the image becoming clearer and clearer. It’s Dick. He’s still in his normal clothes, but he has a tray in his hands with a bowl of soup, a bottle of gatorade and a glass of water. You take a chance and look at the clock on the wall. Seven fifteen. Seven fifteen!

“Dick you’re not gonna make the red carpet!” you say.

Dick sets the tray down. That’s when you realize the bag with his suit is not on the coffee table anymore.

“I’m not going.” he says.

You look at him wildly, “Dick you got me a dress and you brought your suit! You’re going!” 

“My suit is in the car and you’re sick, so you’re not going which means I’m not going. We can watch from here.” he answers.

You don’t understand him at all. This was one of the most important nights of his life and he was wasting it away with you? You reach for the bowl and then you think about pricey dress you’re sitting in. You get up from the couch slowly, Dick waiting with a helping hand.

“I’m gonna change.” you tell him.

“Do you need help?” he asks.

You look at him funnily, “I can dress myself Dick.” 

“No I meant—you’re right you can I just know the zipper can be hard.” he rambles.

You laugh at his reaction and then turn with you back facing him, “Go ahead.”

You hear him come up behind you. And you can even feel his breath hitting your neck, it’s warm. You shut your eyes for a moment waiting to feel his hand on your skin. When you do you let out a hitch in breath.

“You okay?” he asks.

You nod your head, not trusting your voice. He pulls down the zipper, you feel like he’s going so slow but maybe it’s the sickness and the nervousness combined into one that makes you feel like every second that drags on is a million heartbeats. 

When the zipper reaches the end, Dick squeezes your shoulders. You hold the dress in the front with your arm and turn around.

“Thank you.” you say.

“No problem.”

He’s just about to turn away from you but you stop him. With your hand on his arm. He looks down at where you two are touching and then back up at you.

“I mean it, thank you.”

Dick just smiles at you.

[sugartitstownley]

Hay I love your blog!!!

Could you do some relationship preferences for michael and trevor being together cute/hot or just cute?

ABC’s of Trikey

Thanks for the ask! I’m glad you like my blog!! I took some creative liberties with this and ran with it since I’ve been wanting to do the ABC prompt. So I hope you don’t mind. :) I did the fluff version [source], but I’d be open to doing the NSFW version too if someone would want that.

Warnings: Not a lot this time. Typical GTA-esque themes. There is a brief mention in the last letter (Z) about child abuse, but that’s about it. Mostly fluffy stuff.

A is for animals  [Do they have pets? What type?]

No, they don’t have any pets. Neither of them feel too strongly about having them, but the topic has came up once or twice — Michael being the most reluctant.

“It’d be like having another kid,” Michael gripes. “We’d have to clean its shit and make sure it doesn’t tear the house up.”

“But maybe it could teach you a thing or two about loyalty, you snake,” Trevor shoots back. “Plus, it’d give Chop a friend.”

“Can you honesty promise I wouldn’t come home one day to a mutilated dog after it chewed the fuck out of your clothes or bit you?”

“Well, I can’t promise I won’t mutilate you one day, but I still keep you around.”

That didn’t convince Michael. So no, they don’t have pets. They’ll stick to chaperoned visits with Franklin, Lamar, and Chop.

B is for bathroom  [What are their bathroom habits? Do they brush teeth at the same time? Fight about the toilet? Shower together? Have weird toiletries?]

Their bathroom habits are definitely a little bit opposing. Michael, unless he’s in one of his truly depressive episodes, is fairly clean. He often opts for the same routine every day: wake up, shower, shave (unless he’s growing it out, which sometimes he does), brush teeth, put on deodorant, spray on fancy cologne he spent way too much on, and leave.

Trevor, however, has less of a set schedule. He frequently chooses to forgo the traditional approach to “getting ready” unless Michael gets on him about it.

Once they start living together, though, Trevor does start to actively seek out a good shower quite often — if only so he can join his partner in a little morning rendezvous, which, of course, Michael is happy to indulge him in.

They don’t fight too much over bathroom etiquette, but, well, Trevor is still Trevor, so it’s inevitable sometimes.

“Oh, the fuck is this?” Michael mumbles, peering into the toilet below him. “Trevor!”

Mere seconds later, Trevor’s head is popping through the bathroom door. “Mm, morning to you too, sugar.”

“Tell me what I’m looking at here.”

“That,” Trevor follows his partner’s gaze to look inside the toilet bowl, “looks like a finger.”

“Yep, it does,” Michael nods along. “Why the fuck is it in our toilet?”

Trevor raises his hands in surrender. “Excuse me, I tried to get his arm down in one go, but people don’t flush like they used to. Ya know, I think it’s all the healthy shit people eat in LS. Makes their body more immune.”

“Jesus Christ.”

C is for children  [Do they have kids? Adopted or biological? What are their names? Any random head canons you have?]

Michael obviously has Tracey and Jimmy, so that’s really enough for them. Michael knows he’s already a shit father, so there’s no need to bring any more children into his world. Plus, Trevor loves both of those kids like they’re his own anyway.

And, all things considered, they both have Franklin too. Their surrogate child. Sure, Franklin pretends to be slightly disturbed at that mental image, but both men are sure he’s still happy to have them around.

Sometimes, when he’s really trying to embarrass Franklin, Trevor will talk about him to strangers like he’s their child. Michael tries to get him to stop — for the youngest boy’s sake — but he secretly finds it both endearing and funny. So, against his better judgement, Michael joins in sometimes.

“Kids are a handful, huh?”

The woman looks up from the screaming baby in her arms to Trevor, who’s talking over her shoulder. She looks slightly uncomfortable at his proximity, like she wants to push away the cart full of baby items in front of her and make a run for it, but she nods instead.

“They sure are. Got any?”

Trevor mirrors her nod before pointing over at Franklin. “Our baby boy is right there.”

Trevor can see Franklin shrink behind Michael, trying to get out of sight, while Michael stands there smirking.

“He’s just precious,” Trevor continues, his voice cracking with a faux sob. “They grow up so fast. Right in front of your eyes.”

The woman glances at Michael, almost like she’s hoping he’ll save her, but he only puts a hand to his heart and smiles. “They never stop melting your heart, though.”

As soon as the cashier yells “next,” the woman is rushing to the counter, and the two older men are left laughing as Franklin finally moves into sight.

“Fuck you both,” he grumbles.

D is for dates  [First date? Do they go out together regularly? Who usually plans?]

Their first date was definitely weird. Not in the “we shouldn’t be doing this” way. But in the “this feels like our first date and 50th simultaneously” way.

Back in North Yankton, neither of them really went on “first dates” — with each other or other people. A date feels more like a planned time to be romantic, but their relationship was anything but planned. In fact, everything often felt rushed and spontaneous, like neither knew when their life would suddenly end by imprisonment or death.

Now, as older men who feel way too past their prime and have way too much history among them to be going out on said “first dates,” the idea feels a little juvenile and silly.

Nonetheless, they do it. They do it if only for the sake of not being able to do it before. They go out on a first date — paired with nervous sweating, awkward conversations, and careful skirting over any past issues that could put a damper on the evening. It’s a simple dinner at an upscale restaurant in Vinewood, much to Trevor’s initial dismay.

“Out of all of San Andreas, this is where you pick, Mikey?”

“It’s a nice place, T.”

“Shocker that you think that, Mr. Plastic Pants,” Trevor says mockingly. “This place is full of fake celebrities and plastic surgeons. I feel like I’m about to slip and fall and accidentally get a boob job.”

“Can you just humor me for once? Please?”

And Trevor did because, truth be told, he’d go anywhere with Michael. Their first date was good all things considered, but they don’t make it a habit to go out often. It’s just not in their style — unless you count Trevor beating Michael at golf or them chasing down bikers a date, then sure.

When they do officially go out on dates, especially for important dates like anniversaries, it’s usually Michael who plans them. He’s much more of a classic date — dinner and a movie — kind of guy. He likely gets that from the movies he watches.

E is for embarrassment  [Does one get embarrassed by PDA? Do they say things to rile each other up?]

Michael does, at times, get embarrassed by Trevor’s public displays. It’s not that he’s ashamed of Trevor; it’s just harder to kick that religious guilt he’s used to. It has caused a rift a few times when Michael would flinch at Trevor calling him “baby” around strangers or throwing his arms around him and kissing his neck — especially since Michael can see their unapproving reactions in his peripheral vision.

Trevor, usually, reacts angrily — no doubt believing that his partner is embarrassed by him and their relationship. But Michael continues to reassure him until the issue is dropped.

After a few years, and a bit more therapy, the judging glances no longer irk him like they used to. And, as a result, he’ll let Trevor’s fingers snake through his or let his touch linger, even with the prying eyes of Los Santos City.

When they’re in an argument, however, Trevor does take a few liberties now and then to rile him up.

“Fine, Burger Shot it is. But when we get home, I want a blowjob.”

“Oh, Christ,” Michael groans, looking around to see how many people heard Trevor’s loud mouth.

Trevor grins. “Hopefully, I’ll be saying that soon too.”

F is for fights  [Do they bicker a lot? About trivial things? How do they make up after a large fight?]

They bicker a lot. About trivial things. About important things. About everything. But that’s them. It’s how it’s always been, and just because they’re in love, doesn’t mean it’s going to stop.

But, at least for Michael, he almost enjoys fighting with Trevor. Fighting with him only reminds him how much he’s devoted to the guy — how much he devastatingly loves the man.

With Amanda, they loved each other, but they weren’t in love with each other. So when they fought, it left him feeling bitter and lonely. But with Trevor, every fight is born out of caring about his relationship, about Trevor’s health, about their past, about their future. He just cares so violently — both of them do — that every fight starts and ends with him being in love. At least, for the most part.

G is for gifts [Do they give gifts often? Big things or small things?]

Yes, quite often. Michael is a lavish giver, even if he knows Trevor doesn’t really care one way or another about material possessions. If Michael can gift him an “Impotent Rage” comic because he used to have it as a child, even if it’s rare now and worth thousands, he’ll do it. He wants Trevor to have nice things, and he has no problem spending money in order to make that happen.

Trevor, on the opposite side, doesn’t give material gifts very often. Not really seeing the value for himself, he doesn’t much care to buy them for others either. Even so, that doesn’t mean he’s not a gift giver in his own way. Trevor will often show his giving side by actions: making sure the new movie Michael wanted to watch is rented when he comes home, cooking something for dinner (with no eyelids, he promises!), cleaning himself up, going to events he hates just because Michael loves them, and so on.

They have their own ways, and it works for them.

H is for home  [Where do they live? When did they move in together?]

They have several different residencies. Several.

After the divorce was finalized, Amanda moved out to leave for the beachfront property that she desperately craved — and asked for — all throughout their time in LS.

Michael kept the house in Rockford Hills and decided to stay there. Despite some gentle coaxing, Trevor refused to give up his trailer in Sandy Shores, but Michael was secretly happy since it gave them an excuse to drive up there and sit by the Alamo Sea.

Trevor also ended up keeping the Vanilla Unicorn, at least for the time being. Neither man makes too many appearances there anymore, but Trevor’s back office does make for a good bed if he’s mad at Michael.

Officially, though, they live in Michael’s place in Rockford Hills. It’s close to where they need to go, Michael can commute fairly easily to Solomon’s studio, and Trevor is at a perfect distance to wreck havoc in whatever part of the state he chooses day to day. Michael, in the future, would be happy to consider moving somewhere else with his partner. But right now, he’s just happy Trevor agreed to stay with him.

“T, you listening?”

“Huh? Yeah, Mikey. What is it?”

Michael grabs the remote out of the other man’s hand and forces his eyes to leave the TV. “Trevor, ‘m serious.”

“Okay, okay,” Trevor relents. “I’m all ears, pork chop.”

“How would you feel about staying here?”

“Well, considering I’ve already drove halfway across the city, drank a shit ton, and planned to strip you naked later, I’d say I feel pretty good about staying tonight.”

Michael smirks a little. “As sweet as that is, I meant more than just tonight. Like, ya know, stay. Live here.”

“Live here,” Trevor repeats slowly, his attention clearly on Michael completely now. “With you. In Rockford Hills. Here.”

“Yes,” Michael nods, but it comes out more like a question — not sure if Trevor really wants to live here with him.

“Okay,” Trevor agrees.

“Okay?”

“Yes. Okay.

The sides of Michael’s mouth tick up into a small smile. “Okay.”

I is for illness  [Do they care for each other when they’re sick?]

They’ll definitely care for each other no matter the illness, but their reactions certainly differ depending on the illness at hand.

If it’s the common cold, they’ll both gripe at each other about how “babyish” the other is being. That won’t stop them from picking up medicine, tissues, water, or anything else the other may need to feel better. Some playful banter is just to be expected.

If it’s a more “serious” sickness, a little bit lot more worry and anger is involved.

Trevor growls. “Fucking lay down. I told you smoking all those Redwoods would kill you one day.”

Michael follows his partner’s orders and leans back onto the bed, his mouth open, trying to breathe any air he can get without coughing. “I’m fine, asshole. ‘s just a bug.”

“It’s not just a bug,” Trevor huffs, laying down next to him. “Doctor said it’s bronchitis. That can be bad, Mikey.”

“I’ll be okay,” Michael mumbles, giving Trevor’s hand a squeeze to reassure him. “A lot of people get it.”

“A lot of people die from it, too. Especially if it’s chronic. More than 300 people.”

“That’s not a lot, T,” Michael reasons, shutting his eyes. “Mm, plus, doc said she doesn’t think it’s chronic.”

“Doesn’t think,” Trevor growls. “Fucking doctors. They don’t know shit until you’re dead.”

At that, Michael opens his eyes. “Calm down, T. It’s not that serious.”

“It is, Michael,” he says, spitting out his name. “I don’t want to lose your fat ass just because you can’t let go of your stupid habits, and the doctors in this city are too lazy to give a shit!”

Finally realizing the issue, Michael turns over in the bed to cuddle into Trevor’s side. “You won’t lose me, baby.”

“You don’t know that. I have before.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. But I’m here for the long haul now. You’re stuck with me.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

And when Michael stops smoking — for the most part — and convinces Trevor to try and get clean from the drugs — again, for the most part — he’s there with him every step of the way through the withdrawal symptoms.

The nightmares, lack of sleep, paranoia, irritability — all of it. Those months are probably the most Michael has ever cried, or seen Trevor cry, but it’s worth it in the end when they’re both a lot happier.

J is for jokes [Do they tease each other a lot? Do they have inside jokes nobody else gets?]

They definitely tease each other a lot. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell whether they’re teasing or bickering unless you really know them since most of their teasing is harsher words paired with playful undertones.

“I had an idea for our next anniversary.”

Trevor smirks. “Not sure if you’ll make it to our next anniversary, you fat fuck.”

Or

“Nice outfit, T. I can see you’re finally embracing the ‘I liked it before it was cool’ lifestyle.”

“Fuck off, Townley.”

K is for kisses [First kiss? Do they kiss a lot?]

Their first kiss was long ago, back in North Yankton. It was after one particularly good job in ‘86. They came away with more money than they’d ever gotten together, and it took them half the time it usually does to ward off police presence and make it back to their motel.

“Fuckin’ A,” Michael shouts as soon as the motel door is closed. “We did it!”

“Fuck yeah!”

Both boys laugh, their hearts still pumping with adrenaline. Suddenly, Michael is overcome by the excitement of the success of the job or the smile on Trevor’s face, and so he pushes him against the motel door and kisses him roughly.

The kiss only realistically lasts around five seconds, but it’s enough.

“What the fuck was that?” Trevor asks once they part.

“What?”

“You kissed me.”

Michael nods and shrugs a bit, trying not to blush. “Yeah, so what?”

Trevor doesn’t say anything. In fact, the room is deadly silent for several seconds before Trevor lunges forward and captures Michael’s mouth again.

Between then and the time he meets Amanda, Michael kisses Trevor a lot. If he’s being honest, he kisses Trevor a lot after he meets Amanda too.

When they officially reconcile their relationship and decide to give being together a real shot after the Union Depository job, they — of course — kiss a lot. They have to make up for lost time after all.

L is for love [Who said ‘I love you’ first? How do they show their love?]

Although Michael kissed him first, Trevor said “I love you” first. This, too, was back in North Yankton after a night full of celebratory drinking and sex after a big job.

However, after their reconciliation in 2013, Trevor, once again, was the one to take the lead. When it comes to emotions, Trevor’s always said exactly what he was thinking. Where Michael struggles with expressing himself, Trevor does nothing but express himself.

“What?”

Trevor shakes his head lightly at Michael’s questioning. “Nothing.”

“No, come on,” Michael pushes. “You’re lookin’ at me funny.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

Trevor sighs, glancing around the restaurant they’re currently sat in. “Can’t we eat?”

“You don’t want to tell me? When have you ever held your tongue? About literally anything?”

“Maybe I’m holding my tongue because I’m reluctant to say anything since last time I said it, it must have not meant shit because you married a stripper.”

“T, things with Amanda were complicated, you know that,” Michael says, grabbing his partner’s hand that’s resting on their table. “But it’s different now.”

Trevor gives a slight nod of agreement. “Yeah. It is.”

“So? What do you want to tell me?”

“I- I love you.”

Michael looks momentarily shocked, but he quickly recovers and breathes out a chuckle. “Oh.”

“You better say it back, Townley. You’re too old to have second thoughts.”

Despite Trevor’s quip, Michael grins. “I was just hoping I’d get to say it first this time. I love you too.”

M is for meals [Who cooks?]

Surprisingly, Trevor usually cooks. Or, rather, they do it together. Trevor likes the company, and Michael likes the assurance that no part of the food is human.

Trevor is a pretty good cook since he took care of his mom a lot when he was young between her copious amounts of “male friends.”

Although Michael usually is reluctant to relinquish control on a lot of things, he’s happy to sit back and watch Trevor cook, only helping when needed.

And if he gets to kiss the chef while he cooks, well, that’s just a bonus.

N is for nicknames [Do they shorten their names? Pet names?]

God, they never end — at least for Trevor. Michael does use the usual nicknames for his partner: T or Trev. After they started dating, “baby” will become a frequent contender.

For Trevor, he never stops coming up with nicknames — most of them being for his own amusement. Mikey, Mike, M, sugar, sugar tits, pork chop.

Some of them are more on-the-whim ideas: Mr. Plastic City and moneybags being quite popular.

Michael has asked Trevor to cool it down, but he doesn’t have much luck on that part.

“Get in, sugar tits.”

Michael climbs into the Bodhi, shooting Trevor a glare. “Can you stop calling me that?”

“I’m getting déjà vu. Thought we’ve had this conversation before, and I said no.”

“We have,” Michael rolls his eyes. “But I thought that once we, you know, started being together — you’d stop.”

“Aw,” Trevor smiles, linking their fingers together as he pulls out of the driveway. “No such luck, sugar tits.”

O is for outsiders [What do other people think about their relationship?]

Their relationship is a paradox to most — both surprising and not surprising in the slightest.

Amanda, who’s known them the longest outside of Lester, was initially shocked. With the way Michael talked about Trevor if she ever brought him up, it usually seemed like a one-sided friendship that was destined to end.

Though, when she looks back on it after the divorce, she’s not all that surprised after all.

“I should’ve known.”

Michael pauses before giving a half shrug to his soon-to-be ex wife. “I barely knew. It’s just always been … complicated.”

Amanda snorts. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it, Michael. Still, you just … never wanted to talk about him. Even after everything — especially not after everything.”

“I know, Mand.”

“I always thought that maybe it was just because you felt guilty, but, well,” she trails off. “You loved — love — him.”

“Yeah,” he breathes out. “Yeah, I do.”

Lester was even easier. He knew from beginning that the boys had a long history, and even after all the years apart, he knew the barely functioning friendship between Michael and Trevor was just years of pent up sexual tension, betrayals, and love waiting to topple over.

Franklin and Lamar were equally supportive, but Lamar did ask a lot of questions that made Franklin gently kick him under the table.

“Yo, so you and crazy dude are in love?” Lamar asks. “For real? This whole time?”

Michael glances at Franklin, who’s smirking at the exchange, before he meets Lamar’s eyes again and nods. “Yeah, we are.”

Lamar chuckles. “Good luck, homie. Bet that dude is into some freaky shit in bed.”

“What he means to say is that we’re happy for you, dog,” Franklin says while nudging Lamar. “Maybe now I won’t have to hear T bitch about you every time we grab a drink.”

“Yeah, doubtful,” Michael smirks. “I’m sure he’ll find somethin’ new to complain about.”

“Yeah, like how your ass is too fat to get in the sex swing I ordered.”

All three boys whip their heads around to see Trevor stalking up and plopping into the seat next to Michael.

“That’s not- he’s kidding,” Michael fumbles.

Franklin, looking caught between amusement and horror, just nods. “Sure, whatever you say, homie.”

P is for proposal [Who proposed first? How did they do it? A lot of planning?]

Michael proposed first. He values the traditional act of marriage a little more. Not to mention, Trevor didn’t want to ruin their relationship or scare Mike off since he only just got him back. If it was up to Trevor, though, they would have just got hitched immediately.

Although Michael considers himself a bit of a romantic with his partner — a cliché, in Trevor’s words — he didn’t plan a fancy proposal paired with dinner, a moonlit walk down Vespucci Beach, and skywriting asking the big question. No, instead, he just looked at Trevor one night and asked. He asked right then and there because, for once in his life, he just let his emotions take over.

“I understand how economics work and what the working class needs! They want a six pack of beer! An eager girl in their pickup truck! And a depressing folk tune playing on the radio!”

Michael faintly hears the voice of Impotent Rage coming from the TV in front of him, but he’s barely listening as his eyes keep glancing over at Trevor, who’s sitting next to him under their blanket, munching on a bowl of popcorn and watching the superhero chant with full attention.

A soft smile tugs at his lips as he listens to Trevor belt out a laugh at whatever’s happening in the show, and suddenly, he’s speaking without even realizing.

“T.”

“Hm?”

The man’s eyes don’t move from the television, so Michael tries again. “Trevor.”

Finally, his partner’s eyes peel away from the screen and look his way. “What, Mikey? I’m missing good TV here.”

Michael watches him for several seconds, the small smile from before still present. “Marry me.”

At that, the show fades into the background completely, and Trevor’s attention is focused. “You’re gonna have to repeat that, sugar. Think I misheard you.”

“I said, ‘Marry me.’”

“Jesus,” Trevor shuts the TV off and turns to face Michael, the blanket falling off them to their feet. “You serious? You better not be fucking with me.”

“I’m not,” Michael shakes his head, taking Trevor’s hands in his. “We should do it. Get married.”

There’s a long gap of silence where Michael’s not sure if Trevor’s going to laugh at him, punch him, or have another overt reaction. But in the end, he feels his partner’s body slam into his as they topple over onto the couch. And it takes a few seconds for it to register that Trevor is hugging him.

Michael laughs. “Is this a yes?”

“Fuck yes.”

And if Trevor cried a little too that night, well, that’s their business.

Q is for quest [Have they ever been on a quest together? Has one done something completely crazy for the other?]

Honestly, their whole lives together have been nothing but a series of quests. But, outside of the normal robbery, revenge, avoid-dying quests, they’ll absolutely go on day-to-day missions for the other — especially Trevor.

Is Michael out of that one specific product he uses for his hair and no store in Los Santos seems to carry it? Trevor will find it.

Have one of the actors on set gone missing? Trevor’s already got their location.

It doesn’t matter how utterly dumb he thinks Michael is for caring about certain things, he’ll get it done. Somehow, some way.

“You’re welcome,” Trevor says, sitting down the black, sleek bottle on the kitchen counter. “Only one I could find, Mr. Suede Bucks.”

“You got the cologne? The fuck did you find this? It ain’t been at Ponsonbys forever.”

Trevor leans down and kisses Michael, smiling proudly. “I know. It wasn’t easy.”

“Yeah, I bet, it wa-” Michael stops. “Uh, Trev?”

Trevor walks over to the fridge and pulls out a beer. “Yeah?”

Michael wipes at the bottle before holding up a red-coated finger to Trevor. “Is this blood?”

Trevor pretends to inspect it before shrugging. “Not sure.”

“Oh, really? This just happened to be here?”

“Don’t ask too many questions, Mikey. Just accept the gift.”

“I didn’t want it that bad,” Michael protests. “Not at some poor bastard’s expense.”

“I got you the cologne,” Trevor says pointedly. “Just be happy, you miserable fuck.”

Rolling his eyes, Michael smiles and leans up to connect their lips again. “Well, thank you.”

R is for rainy day [What do they do when it’s raining outside?]

What better way to spend a rainy day than a movie session that your boyfriend forces you into? Right?

Michael loves to watch movies — that much is obvious. And, since Trevor loves him, he’ll indulge him on days where it’s too wet to do anything else.

Plus, a bonus of staying indoors all day is more time for … extracurricular activities.

S is for secrets [Do they keep secrets from each other?]

Trevor’s not the type to keep secrets, so anything he does, says, or thinks pretty much goes straight to Michael.

For Mike, though, he has trouble not keeping secrets. It’s not that he actively wants to lie to people, especially those he loves, but he’s done it for so long that it’s become second nature. So much so that he even expressed the worry to his new therapist.

“I don’t want to lie to anyone, ‘specially not Trevor,” Michael admits. “But it’s like I don’t know how to stop!”

“What exactly do you lie about?”

He glances around the office, shrugging. “I don’t know. The way I feel sometimes. What I want. What I don’t want. Christ, I don’t know if I’m lying or if I just don’t know the answers.”

“I think you know the answers, Michael.”

“Maybe. I just … don’t ever want to hurt Trevor again.”

Months in therapy with an actual qualified doctor — unlike Dr. Friedlander — helped Michael find new ways to cope with his knee jerk reaction to lie.

So, no, they both try not to keep anymore secrets between the two of them.

T is for travelling [Do they go on holiday together? On journeys?]

They don’t get away very often. It’s not that they don’t have the money because obviously they do. But they’re busy with their respective jobs. Michael is often working on a movie set these days, and that can take up a lot of time. And Trevor can be found running TPI, the Vanilla Unicorn, and — of course — getting up to various shenanigans.

In a last ditch effort to connect to his kids, he did invite them on a small trip, where they ended up going to the zoo alongside Trevor.

“Ew, daddy, what is that?”

Before Michael can answer Tracey’s question, he sees her reach out toward the animal. “Trace! Don’t fuckin’ touch it!”

“Hey, you better watch out, kid, or it’ll eat you,” Trevor says, putting his arm around Tracey.

“You’d save her, uncle T,” Jimmy pipes up.

Trevor smirks. “We’d just sacrifice your dad. He’d take one for the team.”

Tracey giggles, nodding. “Totes.”

Michael pulls Trevor’s arm off of Tracey before giving him a playful shove. “Yeah, fuck you. If anything, we’d sacrifice your ass. With the way you smell, it’d probably think you’re a dead animal anyway.”

“As if you’d give me up that easily,” Trevor says, brushing their hands together as they walk along the zoo path. “You love me, Michael Townley.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Besides that, they mostly stick with San Andreas. But Michael’s been thinking about planning a trip back to North Yankton. He knows Trevor misses the Midwest, and he thinks they’re grown enough now in their relationship to relive nostalgic, good memories while there instead of being thrown back into painful ones.

U is for urges [Do they pine after each other? How often to they think about each other?]

They do pine — in their own ways. For Trevor, it’s more blatant, obvious longing.

Before getting together officially, Trevor made it a point to drudge up the past or make snippy comments about how much Michael’s changed. Under all the semi-faux anger, all he wanted was for Michael to realize how much he’s missed him.

As for Michael himself, his pining came in the form of silence. He didn’t want to ever talk about Trevor, or hear about him, or think about him. He missed him too, but every thought surrounding the man was laced with guilt.

“We did it, T!” Michael cheers. “Fuckin’ A. Pulled off the Big One.”

“Sure did, Mikey,” Trevor smiles slightly as he whips the car down the LS Freeway. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“I know. I figured we’d be settling into prison by now if we ever attempted it. I mean, we-”

“No,” Trevor stops him. “Never thought I’d see the day since you were dead.”

The air in the car grows thicker than it usually does with Trevor’s quips as Michael struggles with how to respond.

Eventually, Michael sighs. “Thought you said we were good.”

“We are.”

“Then why do you have to bring it up? Can’t we have one decent conversation without you always having to mention it? Jesus Christ, T.”

Trevor grinds his teeth, facing Michael with an accusatory finger as the car comes to a stop on the side of the road. “Fuck you! I’m going to bring it up until you’re so sick and tired of hearing about it that you rip your own ears off!”

“Oh, well, if I’d known that was all it’d take to shut your ass up, I would’ve ripped ‘em off months ago!”

“Good! I wish you fucking would!”

Both of them lean back into the silence as Trevor slams on the gas and buzzes past the cars around them.

After pulling into his driveway, Michael gets out and slams the door behind him, leaving Trevor in the car without another word. He slowly starts the trek up to his door, suddenly realizing that — once the door shuts — he’s going to be alone once again.

Chancing a look back, he checks to see if Trevor’s still sitting in the car, and he is — unmoving.

Michael turns around and makes his way to the window, not even having to knock before Trevor’s rolling it down.

Michael gestures vaguely. “Want to come in?”

Trevor gives a curt nod and moves to get out of the car. “You better have beer.”

After popping open a few drinks and settling onto the couch, Trevor’s voice fills the otherwise quiet room. “Look, ‘m sorry. Okay? I know we’re trying to move on. But fuck, Michael. It’s hard. You … you left me, and you didn’t even think twice.”

“Didn’t think twice? You kidding me? I thought twice. I thought three times, four times, a hundred times. But I had a family, and I didn’t know what else to do. I messed up. I know that. And I’ve had to live with that every day. Every day, I thought about you — hoped that you weren’t dead, or when I was really fuckin’ depressed, hoped that you were so I didn’t have to feel so damn guilty. So don’t tell me that I didn’t think twice, asshole.”

Seconds later, the air is knocked out of Michael as Trevor pushes his lips roughly against his. He lets out a small hiss when he feels Trevor bite down on his bottom lip before his tongue brushes against his.

“I’ve missed you,” Michael breathes out against Trevor’s lips.

“I’ve missed you too, sugar.”

V is for virtues [What’s their favourite thing about each other?]

Trevor loves that Michael is, well, Michael. Despite the long list of qualities he could ramble off that he doesn’t like about him: constant sarcasm, hypocritical, arrogant …

He’s also fond of those qualities because that’s who Michael is. He’s an asshole, and Trevor likes him that way. Secretly.

Michael, on the other hand, has a distinct quality of Trevor that he’s most fond of — loyalty. Michael himself has never been loyal. He’s cheated, lied, hurt, coerced, and backstabbed almost everyone he’s ever known. Although Trevor’s physically hurt his fair share of people, his loyalty to his friends is unshakable.

Michael almost hates that about him too. He’ll often wish Trevor gave less of a shit about him because, maybe then, their past wouldn’t cut as deep.

Still, Michael will hold tightly on to every last bit of loyalty Trevor’s willing to give him now.

W is for wedding [Who plans it? Big or small? Does it go smooth?]

It’s a pretty small event considering Michael’s already done the whole marriage thing before. Neither of them really care about a monumental party paired with dancing, catering, and people galore. They really only want to get hitched for the sake of being together forever and, as Trevor jokes, so it’s practically legally required for them to love one another.

Does it go smooth? Ha! If you asked anyone — anyone — that they know if anything ever has gone smooth when it comes to Michael and Trevor, they’d laugh.

It wasn’t a total disaster or anything, but there were certainly hiccups along the way.

“The fuck do you mean he’s missing?” Michael pulls the phone away from his ear as the lady on the other end tries to explain the whereabouts of his suit tailor. “Trevor!”

“But I assure you that we’re trying to find him, Mr. De Santa.”

Michael barely catches the end of what she’s saying as he pushes the phone back against his ear. “Look, lady. I don’t give a shit where your boss is. Do you have my suit?”

“We don’t have it here with us,” she explains. “He likely took it home, but I assure you-”

Michael hangs up the phone as Trevor finally comes strutting into the kitchen.

“What’s up, pork chop? Trouble at the studio?”

“No, trouble with the suit guy. Apparently, he’s gone missing.”

“Huh.”

Michael narrows his eyes. “That was a short answer. And ya don’t seem that shocked.”

“It’s Los Santos,” Trevor shrugs. “People go missing all the time. He probably found the one hot broad in this city that likes 50-year-old men with braces and hit the road with her.”

“How did you know he had braces? I’ve never hold you that.”

“What the fuck is this, Mikey? An interrogation?”

Michael steps around the kitchen table until he’s face to face with his partner, giving him a sharp, piercing look. “Trevor.”

“Fine! I met the guy for a bit,” Trevor relents. “Went to talk to him about fixing up my outfit as well, but we didn’t see eye to eye.”

“Oh, God. What does that mean?”

Trevor’s eyes shine in light amusement. “I think we’re going to have to look for someone else.”

X is for xenia [What’s it like to be their guest?]

Well, they don’t really have a lot of people over. The only people who ever visit them are Franklin and Lamar, sometimes Tracey and Jimmy, and on the rarest occasions, Lester. But that’s usually only if he needs something.

When they’re in Sandy Shores, they’ll have Ron over, and occasionally, they’ll bring Wade when Trevor wants to get him out of the strip club.

Being their guest is like going to a haunted house. It can be fun, but you have a chance of getting traumatized in some way.

“Hey, do y’all two have any-” Franklin stops, throwing his hands over his eyes as he jumps back into the hallway. “What the fuck?”

Trevor’s laughter fills in the room as Michael blushes, fumbling for the zipper on his pants before pulling Trevor up from his knees.

“Fuck,” Michael starts. “Sorry. We ain’t doing anything. I promise.”

“Yeah, whatever you say, dog,” Franklin shudders, finally peaking through his fingers. “Look, I just came to ask if y’all had any beer. But I can see you’re busy.”

“We weren’t …” Michael trails off, knowing there’s no point in denying it. “I’ll show you where it is.”

The three boys walk downstairs, Trevor still snickering to himself as Michael nudges him every so often to try and get him to quit.

“Maybe next time, wait for your guests to leave before you start messing around up there,” Franklin chuckles.

The boys’ heads glance over when Lamar pipes up beside them, apparently catching the end of the conversation. “Yo, you and crazy dude was fuckin’ up there?”

“Kill me,” Michael mumbles while Trevor cackles beside him.

Yeah, they don’t have guests over very often anymore.

Y is for yearly [Any traditions? Anniversaries?]

They’ve picked up some new traditions and brought back some old. Back in North Yankton, before Michael ever met Amanda, there were several years that he and Trevor would bake holiday cookies for Christmas. Were they good at it? No. But that never stopped them. Neither of them grew up in particularly warm households, so it was up to them to create some kind of holiday cheer.

Plus, when Tracey was born, she loved to help out. Oftentimes, you could find her in Trevor’s arms as they used cookie cutters to make the dough into little trees and reindeer.

Deciding to carry that tradition into their relationship and marriage, every Christmas they bake cookies, and every year, they taste a little like shit. But they both love it.

“Merry Christmas, daddy,” Tracey says, hugging Michael and Trevor. “Merry Christmas, uncle T.”

“Merry Christmas, kid,” Trevor pats her back before going to grab a few of the supplies needed for the recipe they’re making.

Michael hands her a bowl for the dough. “Merry Christmas, Trace. Glad you could come over. How’s college going?”

“Good! Classes, like, totally rock!”

He smiles, nodding approvingly. “Good.”

“What about your brother? He too good to hang out with us tonight?” Trevor jokes, setting the butter, milk, and eggs down on to the table.

Tracey giggles. “I think he’s working.”

“I’m still not used to hearing that,” Michael laughs. “What about your mom?”

“She’s good too. She’s, and I quote, ‘finally relaxed now that you’re someone else’s problem.’”

Trevor snorts. “Ain’t that the truth.”

“You wouldn’t want it any other way,” Michael shoves him lightly.

“Maybe not.”

Michael, Trevor, and Tracey work in unison for the next 20 minutes until they finally have some semi-decent cookies that are ready to be baked. Sticking them in the oven and setting a timer, they all get cleaned up and move to the living room.

Michael flops down onto the couch, and Trevor falls next to him, putting his arm around his shoulders. Tracey makes her way to the other side of the couch so she can stretch her legs as they all wait for the cookies to be done.

“We should make this a tradition again! Now that you and daddy are together, we could do this, like, every year. Remember when we used to do this when I was young, uncle T?”

“Sure do, kiddo,” Trevor grins. “With Jimmy too.”

She shrugs. “Yeah, I guess he could even come next year. What do you think?”

Michael sees that Tracey and Trevor are looking at him for an answer, so he nods. “Yeah, we could probably make that happen.”

The three of them talk about the future, Tracey mostly supplying the conversation with her babbling while Michael and Trevor happily sit back, leaning into each other as they listen.

When it comes to anniversaries, they also celebrate those every year. They’re not as uptight as some couples about them, but they tend to mean a lot to Trevor, and it’s a concrete way for Michael to show that he’s putting work into their relationship and cares about it enough to do so. So, they celebrate them every year.

Z is for Zzz [Sleep habits? Who’s the big spoon? What do they wear in bed? Are they coddlers?]

Michael’s never really gotten a perfect night’s rest — not since he was a baby presumably. He’s had okay nights and even, what he’d consider, good nights. But never perfect. Never the full eight hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Nightmares often plague his nighttime life. When he was a teen, it used to be flashes of his father hitting him — beating him black and blue until he was coughing blood days after. As a young adult, he dreamt of robberies gone wrong, getting shot, going to prison, and so on. As an older man, his dreams are a toss-up between his past worries and his future ones. Hurting Trevor, dying, or, most often, both.

Trevor, in the past, didn’t sleep a lot either. Some nightmares, sure, but mostly from the drugs coursing through his veins at any given time. Since Michael and him got together and he started working on being clean, he’s gotten a bit more sleep than the usual.

The same can be said for Michael, though. Sleeping next to Trevor has helped tremendously, especially for his Trevor-themed nightmares. Knowing he’ll wake up next to the man is comforting.

Because of their shaky sleep schedule, they both take turns being the big spoon/little spoon depending on who needs what.

Trevor gently nudges Michael, who’s restlessly tossing around. “Mikey … Mikey.”

Michael’s eyes fly open, and Trevor grabs his arms to stop them from reaching for the gun by the bed.

The dark room stays silent for a minute as Michael’s breathing levels out before he sighs. “Sorry. Did I wake you up?”

Trevor gives a noncommittal hum. “You haven’t had a dream like that in awhile.”

“Yeah, we’ve been sleepin’ good recently, huh?”

Trevor puts his arms around Michael, feeling his bare chest rise and fall steadily. “Yeah, sure have. What were you dreamin’ about?”

“Just … North Yankton,” Michael admits, pulling Trevor close. “Being back there — what could have happened, I guess.”

“There’s no use thinking about the past since we can’t change it. Ain’t that what your new shrink said?”

“She said I should let it go,” he corrects. “But I can’t.”

Trevor frowns, tracing circles on Michael’s chest. “Why not? Still sad you missed your opportunity to put me down?

“Knock it off,” Michael grabs his hand, scratching where Trevor was lightly brushing before. “And that ain’t funny, T.”

Trevor rolls his eyes but decides not to push it. “Look, sugar, we all have things we regret. But we’re here now, and that’s what matters, right? We’ve got your spoiled kids, Franklin, Lamar, hell, even Lester. We’re good.”

“I know,” Michael says quietly, agreeing. “I really am sorry, though. For a lot shit.”

“Yeah, me too. For a lot of shit.”

Michael leans down and kisses Trevor’s head before pulling the blankets up over them again and going back to sleep.

When they can’t sleep, it’s usually filled with just that — banter, soft comforts, and an insult or two so the other can feel right at home. It’s not always picture perfect, but they wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

[abbacchiosbelt]

ABX (if that's too many then pick whatever one you'd like sorry!) for Risotto Nero?

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get? Risotto’s affection is far and few between. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy it, but he fears that once he starts, he won’t be able to stop. The love he feels for his darling is twisted and all-consuming, and he forces himself to abstain from frequent affection so he doesn’t consume them entirely. To compensate, he tries to give his darling whatever they want, within reason. Presents, home-cooked meals, luxury hygiene products, fancy clothes… (Whilst La Squadra wanted a higher salary, they certainly weren’t hurting for money. Metallica also makes it easy for Riz to shoplift… so nothing is out of his reach.) If he was a more wordy man, he would make up for his lack of physical affection through his words… But he is not, so Risotto simply imagines what he’d like to say to his darling. He only hopes that they understand how much they mean to him through his actions. And if he does give in one day… His love and affection is smothering. Risotto is the only one that can keep his darling safe - they are the light in his pitch-black world. (He doesn’t realize that he is slowly dimming that light with every day that passes while his darling is imprisoned by him.)

— Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling? Extremely so. Risotto has no qualms about killing whoever stands in between him and his darling. He’s been used to doing the dirty work since he was a teen, and his darling being in the picture makes him even more willing to get blood on his hands. However, he does try to keep his darling from seeing his violent side. Risotto is well-aware that they know what he does - that he’s a prolific killer. Still, he doesn’t want them to have to witness it. He has some sense of self-awareness when it comes to his image and his darling, as illogical as he knows it is. Risotto wants to appear as a savior to them.

—

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over? Risotto worships the ground his darling walks on. He sees them as the answer to his lonely life - as the light to his dark. To Risotto, his darling is perfect. All it takes is a few interactions for Risotto to start hatching a plan to take them. Whether he infiltrates their workplace or invades their home, he knows he has to rescue take them. They’re too good for this world. Risotto, try as he might, is not exactly charming. He’s tall and intimidating, and most people don’t dare to speak to him… He’s used to the fear in people’s eyes when he gets close, even if he doesn’t say anything. As much as he’d like to flirt with his darling, he knows that attempting to win them over is a lost cause. Their interactions with him, no matter how forced, are enough for Risotto. They tide him over until he can set his plan to kidnap them in motion… and he hopes that over time, they’ll grow to love him.

[your-local-hoemie]

Can i request childe and zhongli with s/o that has an army of plushies to sleep and cuddle with? S/o even names and take cares of every single one like their s/o's child 😭

Not me reading this while surrounded by my four blahaj’s and a 3ft llama plushy 💀

Sorry theses are kinda short, I’m struggling with Childe for some reason and I need to get back into the swing of writing ;-;

Warnings: fluff, gn!reader,swearing, tiny mention of the icky in childes, not proof read.

Characters: Childe, Zhongli.

Childe~

He’d never been over to your house before today so when you opened your bedroom door to reveal your bed practically COVERED in plushies he was surprised to say the least

Though his confusion quickly turns to amusement when you start introducing him to every single fucking one

“Oh Oh I can leave out (plush’s name) isn’t he just the cutest!?”

“Babe why didn’t you tell me I had competition..”

Absolutely gets kinda jealous when you choose to cuddle up with them instead of him-

Decides to buy a custom plush that looks like him for you

Actually had the balls to ask Scara if he can make one

Man almost died that day 💀

You end up playing into his “toy maker” facade for Teucer

Speaking of Teucer, he absolutely adores you!!

Childes heart melts whenever he see’e you both playing together~

It’s now a new ritual that you both choose the names for your new plushies!

One time it got so intense that you both ended up having a actual argument 💀

Overheard you ranting to all your plushies about it and thought it was adorable

Ended up holding a personal grudge against that one plush and death glares it whenever he see’s it-

Would absolutely be down to have tea parties!!

Even helps you choose fancy lil’ clothes if you like to dress them up!

You gave him one of those cute lil’ plushy keychains once that said “I love you” and he secretly keeps it on his person at all times~

Man adores you so being the sugar daddy he is you can rest assured he’ll gladly fuel your addiction

He just likes seeing your pretty face light up whenever you gain a new baby to cherish

If you’re sick or he has to go away for a while he’ll gather you and all the plushies together and sternly tell them to look after you for him!

Actually grew a habit of asking you how “the kids” are whenever he gets home!

If you’re having spicy time though he’ll refuse to do it in the same room as them 💀

He’ll never admit it but he’s grown to see them as actual children and the thought of “tainting” is unbearable hdjfjfif

If you’re away on commissions for a few days or weeks he’ll absolutely like to sleep around them when he misses you too much!

Zhongli~

Actually found it a little creepy at first 💀

“My dear these are simply stuffed toys, why do you treat them like a human child?”

Scold this mf

After a while of seeing how happy you get around them he starts to warm up!

Still doesn’t quite understand it but he thinks you’re adorable and your happiness is everything to him!

He once caught you telling your plushies about him while giggling and hugging onto to them and couldn’t help but let out a chuckle

You really are too cute sometimes

Man’s actually really good at choosing names!!

He’ll also give them backstories and important roles!

Has a select few he actually really likes and has secretly decided to promote them to your “protectors”

Tells you that he’s made sure they’ll keep you safe from any nightmares when he can’t ;-;

You convinced him to have a tea party with you and all your plushies once!

He’ll die before he admits it but he actually got excited!

Brought out his fanciest tea set for ya’ll!

Somehow ended up with a tiara on?

Xiao happened to appear behind him ti discuss something and the look on both of their faces was the funniest thing you’ve ever seen

Absolutely MORTIFIED

“W-what are you- I apologise it seems I’ve caught you at a bad time”

“No! I mean I was just showing Y/N how to properly prepare tea..cough”

They never spoke a word of it again

When you had to leave for a while you gave him gave him precise instructions on how to care for every single one

Followed them to the fucking letter

Discretely of course~

Told them all about his day and scolded himself when he caught himself asking them to tell you all about it when you got home

You’ve definitely brought out a more innocent child-like side to him and it’s precious!

Something about the way you show so much love and compassion to such simple objects warms his heart so much

He doesn’t really get jealous but he will be a little pouty if you choose to cuddle up to them while sleeping instead of him

When he asks granny Shan to make you a doll that looked like him for when you missed him he couldn’t help but get flustered with her teasing calling you “young love birds”

When he saw how you hugged it and gave the plush kisses all over its face before proceeding to do the same to him he felt so much pride!

Though don’t expect it to be a constant thing

He’s still broke asf 💀

I’m back at requests again!! Work should be a lot less intense now the coronation in the uk is over so more time to indulge in my Genshin addiction!

Early sleep for me now uwu

[cutegirlmayra]

Sonamy prompt: Sonic gets invited to a high society: ball, charity event whatever you name it he has to go and can bring a guest. He asks Amy to go mostly so she can keep the crazy fans and press away. She agrees thinking it'll be a fun date night. The night comes and she feels like a fish out of water. High society start judging and mocking her making her feel bad. Sonic is not okay with this and the two make a ruckus. Dancing and singing eating food "improperly" and then eventually take off

PROMPTS ARE ON SHUTDOWN, DO NOT ENGAGE INBOX, THEY’RE HAPPILY MARRIED AND DON’T NEED YOUR OPINION!!!

Prompt:

Sonic adjusted the cuffs on his new tailored gloves, “You sure this shindig’s necessary?” He had tried to get out of it, but the President was insistent. To help with his campaign, he wanted Sonic at his fancy ball he was hosting, a party for those of high political society.

He figured, if Sonic was there, so would the press. Not just that, but it would be the talk of among potential voters, and make it look like Sonic was supporting him.

Not really understanding the significance of his presence, Chris had told Sonic it was a very honored thing to be invited by a President, and didn’t want Sonic to appear rude.

“Why can’t you be my plus one? Or you?” He asked Chris, then pointed to Tails, who was helping put Sonic in a nice black jacket after he had already been buttoned up by Chris in a white shirt.

“Because, plus one usually means you’re bringing a girl with you.” Chris explained, and held up his finger, “Just a second, I’ll go see Vanilla and Cream are done working on Amy’s dress, yet.” He rushed to knock on the door, about three times, before he heard the excited voices of Cream and Vanilla.

They cheerfully called out, “Coming!” Before Amy called out, “Just one second..!!!” Sounding kinda nervous.

“Huh? Amy? Getting nervous?” He walked away from the door and shook his head, “That’s a side of her I never thought I’d get to see…” He smiled with a raised eyebrow, coming back to Sonic who was tugging on his nice suit jacket a bit, trying to ‘stretch’ it since it felt restrictive, looking annoyed. “You sure you remember your manners, Sonic?” Chris reminded him.

“Yeah… I think so. Mr. Tanaka wouldn’t let me sleep last night in peace without sending me through a few drills… and Ella did the same with Amy.” He suddenly looked over from down at his new clothes before his eyes widened and sparkled somewhat… looking speechless.

“Huh? What’s wrong, Son-” Chris turned around before his face also turned to one of mesmerizing delight. “Wow, Amy! You look… incredible!” His mouth opened wide into a grin.

Amy walked out with her hands together in front of a beautiful red, glittering dress… white gloves to match, a hair clip of a rose with some sheer fabric to the side of it, going down near a front quill of hers.

Her sparkling red shoes she lightly poked out of her dress and then posed, tilting her head and chin up a bit to the side, being confident. “Well?” She asked, “What do you think, Sonic?”

Sonic remembered something then, “Hey… It looks… different from the one you wore on the Blue Typhoon, Amy…” Sonic walked up to her and put his hands to his hips, “What happened to that one?”

She tensed up, her bangs and quills becoming prickly, and her cheeks puffing up in agitation. “Girls have more than one dress, Sonic!” She huffed, and he flinched back a moment, removing his hands from his confident but relaxed pose as his smile faded, too.

“H-Huh? No need to get snappy, Amy. I was just surprised you had a new one…” He put a hand out to explain, before withdrawing it up to behind his head, “Sorry, Amy.”

Chris looked at the two a little awkwardly, having some sweat on the side of his cheek, before bending down to whisper into an equally worried Tails’s ear. “Do you really think they’ll get along for this evening, at least?”

Tails moved his mouth to the side, whispering back with his hand up to him, looking ahead but his eyes shifted directly to look up at him, “This isn’t Sonic’s first rodeo. Amy’s dragged him on tons of dates! He’ll be just fine if he-” They were both jolted into upright positions by Vanilla tugging on their opposite ears.

“You know, it’s quite rude to gossip right in front of people.” With her eyes closed in pleasantry, she walked in between them and made sure their heads were now pulled away from each other. She let them go and put a hand dainty to her mouth, “You look lovely, Amy. Sonic? Be sure to be a gentlemen at all times. This is Amy’s night, too, you know.” She gently instructed him.

Sonic smirked to Vanilla, “Emm.” showing he was intending to keep it a good one, as Amy happily returned Vanilla’s kind smile and cheer. “Ah-ha!”

At the ball, Sonic had Amy’s arm around his own, and the two walked in looking pretty small compared to the expenses of this grand campaign. “You don’t… think this is all for us… do you?” Sonic asked, looking directly up, “Wohh…” Seeing multiple chandeliers and fancy lights all over the grand ballroom.

Both his and Amy’s eyes sparkled at the extravagant sight, before a ton of ‘important’ guests started trying to barge their way past the two and soon they were almost trampled as they clambered to get inside.

Sonic pulled Amy ahead of him and they started running, “The food here must be really good, huh? Wah-aahhhh!!!” he pulled her up into a bridal style and immediately his face turned to a cool and collected hero. “Heh.”

He smirked and jumped over some tables as though they were obstacles on a natural tundra back home, and then skid to a halt behind them, his toe up in the air as he slid. “Heh, try and surprise me, why don'tcha?” He subtly jeered a little, having fun as he set Amy down. He put his hands out to her dress, “Is your pretty dress okay? Not ruined, is it?”

Amy blushed at that, shaking her head, “Em-mm, it’s fine.” She smiled sweetly to his chivalrous question.

He ‘phew’d and got back up, “Good.” He nodded, putting his hands to his hips again, “You seem to care an awful lot about it.”

Amy had a strike of an anger mark pulse on her head at that comment. “Soooonic…” She made fists by her sides and shook them slightly. “Are you calling me a material girl!?”

“Huh?” Sonic seemed to not understand, leaning forward towards her as though wanting her to explain before the President and his plus one came up to him with their bodyguards.

“Ah! Sonic The Hedgehog!” He outstretched his hands to the two, “I’m so glad you could come! Ohh… and who’s this little lady by your side?” he blinked curiously to Amy. “Hmm… Have I seen you before?”

Amy looked flattered at the ‘little lady’ part, but the second he seemed to completely not recognize her as one of Sonic’s ionic friends made another zap of an anger mark pulse on her head yet again, twitching with a slight sound effect as though she was trying to keep her rage bottled up in front of company…

“O-Oh, I’m one of Sonic’s friends…” She nervously laughed out.

“Yeah, don’t you recognize her?” Sonic pointed to Amy, very casually, “She’s Amy R-”

“Well, I’m sure my memory will be jogged in good time!” he clapped his hands, “Now, Sonic, if you would be a dear and come with me, just step right over here, that’s it…” Sonic was suddenly pushed from the back up to the press where they took pictures of him and the President, as Amy reached out her hand, not sure why he was being taken away from her as the Plus One of the President slid in next to her.

“You know, he really does look dapper in that little suit of his.” She chuckled into her hand, trying to be mannerly but her eyes were closed as though also looking a bit high-class as well. Was she snooty? “I just think little animal heroes are all the rage these days… It also makes you look incredibly adorable as well, Miss The Hedgehog.”

Amy twitched again, a smaller anger mark. “C-Cute?” She was trying to look sophisticated and like an adult…

“O-Oh, uhmmm… Ehem, I’m not actually Mr. The Hedgehog’s wife… eh-heh-heh… yet.” She swiped her eyes off to the side with a shine… a goal of hers, obviously.

The woman made an obnoxious laugh, “Ohhhh-hoho, how darling! You two looked so perfect together, I just immediately assumed!” She then leaned down, “Hey, hey… one girl to another, do you all stick to your species or is there branching out involved? Do you ever fear he’ll go after a mongoose or something?”

Amy’s anger marks were now turning into mouths and angry eyes, barking and arguing on Amy’s head back and forth as she twitched an open smile, “Ah-hah…hah haha… Why do you think these thoughts?” she then questioned the woman with squinted eyes as Sonic called out to her.

“Amy!”

She turned immediately, blinking her eyes as she leaned forward, “Oh!” She noticed he was trying to climb over the people, mostly women and reporters, crowding around him.

She knew he hated that, and narrowed her eyes while shaking a protective fist.

“Amy, help m-..!” He was being pulled back into the epicenter of the moshpit of people as Amy took out her hair clip and handed it to the woman, “Hold this a sec.” she raced towards Sonic and jumped into the crowd, like a superhero, she wiggled herself out with Sonic over her shoulder, clinging up on her shoulders as though a trembling chihuahua over water, completely out of place among the ‘fans and elites’ all wanting a piece of him.

She jumped down from stepping over people’s heads and shoulders, landing like a true hero and putting Sonic down, dusting him off, and patting his cheeks to let him know he was okay now.

“Thank YOU!” She swiped the hair clip out of the gawking woman’s hands and began to readjust it back into her downward pink quills. Once in, she moved her hands away, touched it up a bit more, then put her hands happily to her hips and looked proud of herself.

“Thanks, Amy.” Sonic rubbed the back of his head, then dusted off his arms again, “Those people really know how to trap a guy in!” He adjusted his quills as well, “How long do we have to be here for, anyway?”

“Sonic…” She looked a little disappointed, her eyes bending back, “We… We just got here.”

“That’s right!” The woman looped her arms around Amy, “You two adorable little things can’t leave now! We have a dinner and a dance for everyone! Including a very special performance, you’ll love it!” She dragged Amy over to a chair as Sonic helplessly followed her with his arms out, not sure when to use his strength and abilities when it came to these odd humans…

When sat down, Amy addressed it, looking like her entire hair was messed up due to the woman holding her like a ragdoll in the air by her waist. “I swear… if one more person treats us like pets..!” She adjusted her hair, and then re-pinned her hair clip. “Sonic, why didn’t you just spindash your way out of that people-pit?” She wasn’t look at him, just doing her hair as he sighed.

“I promised Chris I wouldn’t act ‘unmannerly’ at such an important summons… but to be honest, no matter how many drills Mr. Tanaka put me through, I still don’t get which spoon is what and why there needs to be so many rules.” He looked down at the set-up of the table. His eyes narrowed as though trying to remember, but then not caring and hopelessly waving a nonchalant hand about, “I just wasn’t made for this ‘heroic rewarding’ stuff.” He yawned and leaned back, lifting a leg up, “Think I’ll snooze for a little bit…” He started to doze off as Amy smacked a hand to her face, dragging it down to stretch out the skin.

“Well, that is just who you are… after all.” She eventually sighed and smiled at him fondly.

The President gave a profound speech, and everyone clapped modestly before the food was served. Amy nudged Sonic and he woke up in a small jolt, before yawning and letting Amy point and move his hands to the right silver tools he was supposed to use.

When Amy and him took their first bites, their eyes had stars in them, and they immediately both went, “Oh, wow!” and started digging in. “Have you ever tasted something so good in all your life, Sonic!?” She exclaimed, scarfing it down as Sonic nodded, agreeing.

He could hardly speak without his mouth completely full, “It’s the best!”

With wild handfuls, they were shoving the food down, as people stared in disbelief or with blinking eyes at the displayed behavior.

Amy suddenly looked up after blinking her eyes out of the stars, and noticed everyone staring at them. Embarrassed, she leaned back in her chair, “Ah-haha…” she tried to grasp at a napkin, and the President’s Plus One scooted it to her and she immediately patted her face.

Looking over at Sonic, she noticed he was still oblivious, and cleared her throat.

He looked up at her with complete innocence and full cheeks, “Huh?” His emerald eyes made her giggle a little, pointing to the rest of the table.

“Oh… ywou wawnt swome twoo?” He chewed and looked to what he thought was a huge set of food she was gesturing, too. He, thinking it very polite, got up on his chair, leaned over the table after pulling his suit and white shirt down, and then picked up the enormous–according to their size–glass dish ware and held it up over Amy’s plate. He swallowed then after some time of chewing and smiled sweetly to her, “Isn’t this the best? Glad we stuck around, huh!” The chandeliers lights on him only made his expression of joy that much more genuine and heartfelt to Amy. He was basking in the rays of the room’s light, and she had never felt more gleeful about Sonic trying to show ‘correct mannerisms’ to her before than this moment.

She put her hands up to her cheeks, squeeing at his gentlemanliness, “Ohh~ Sonic~” she then took a big inhale, “That’s not what I meant.” and pulled his coattails down to have him forcibly take his seat, dropping the rose-tinted glasses act for a second.

Once he was back in his seat, he blinked, still holding the huge stack of food on the tray as Amy put it back down where it was supposed to go, “We’re making a scene…” She seemed disappointed at having to say that, as though watching Sonic truly take delight in the moment was everything she wanted for the night… but she had to deny that experience for the both of them… due to the crowd of onlookers judging them…

They tried to eat correctly, Sonic looking more and more frustrated by the passing of seconds he couldn’t shove the amount of food he wanted in his mouth, and Amy completely concurred.

She had to pick up ‘miniscule’ bites and pieces, and the food kept slipping off the ‘recently polished’ silverware which made it even more impossible to take in the yumminess of the food.

Both growing annoyed, Amy finally just put the fork down and turned to Sonic, smiling the best she could. “Want to dance?” She took his hand and he was dragged to the dance floor.

At first, Sonic looked as though he was being pulled around, and Amy realized she would have to lead a lot more aggressively to get him on track.

“This isn’t what I had in mind… When they told me we’d be going to a fancy party…” Her face was a smushed frown, her eyes were as though someone was pulling them apart on the sides, melting away before Sonic finally made a comment.

“Well,... why can’t we just make it our party?” He asked, which made Amy blink up at him and lose her sunken expression.

“What… do you mean?” Her eyes showed that she was desperate to save the night, and Sonic smiled at that fact.

“Amy… Want me to be the hero this time?” He slightly joked as Amy looked completely like that was out of the blue for her, “What I mean is… You’ve been helping me all night… but I think it’s my turn to do what I do best.” He winked to her with a signature, bright smile. “Let me make your night one to remember!”

She blushed, turning pink on the sides of her muzzles just below her eyes. “Sonic…” She stared into his handsome face as he then broke out of the embrace and spun her about, jumping onto the food table and doing his own dance. Break-dancing, spraying food everywhere, and kicking up his feet, “Sorry, Chris! I also told Vanilla I’d be a gentleman to Amy! And Amy’s not having any fun either!” He then jumped up and spindashed around Amy, landing to take her hand, “And what kinda gentlemen would I be if I didn’t save the girl’s night?”

Amy swooned, her expression bright and cheery again, as she raced off and started to dance wildly and eat as much as she wanted again!

Suddenly, a loud voice cried over the crowd, “STOOOPPP!!!” The two hedgehogs ceased a moment, frozen in mad chaos of about to start a food fight, before the President looked to his Plus One, surprised by her suddenly manly voice.

“A-A… Elizabeth?” He asked, but the woman suddenly mechanically transformed, her thin waist now a large one, her proportions off, and Eggman flipped a sliding door and stepped out of the contraption.

“I had to go through SO MUCH to plan this little crash party… you have no idea how much of this man I had to endure!” Eggman pointed angrily at the President while still talking to Sonic and Amy, while the President touched what used to be a leg of the woman and rubbed it lightly as though mourning in a weird way that she was just a robot. “I’m the party crasher, not YOU!” he pulled out a mechanical gun strapped around his back. “I deserve it for what I’ve had to put up with far more than YOU TWO HAVING ONLY TONIGHT IN THIS LOONEY BIN!”

Realizing Eggman had been in a female robot, and that technically meant he was crossdressing, Amy and Sonic tilted their heads and second before absolutely having to clutch their stomachs and covered their mouths as they tried desperately not to laugh loudly.

Eggman sent his robotic army and they battled them out, never being invited to another ‘elite and influential party’ on earth again…