#*nervously drop onto dash*

[cupcakeinat0r]

Thinkin' abt DadBod!Miguel at the gym <3

You'd been going to the gym routinely, or at least trying to. You decided to go after working up the courage and convincing yourself that this was just for fun. That your body was your temple, and you were tending to it, no matter how it looked <3

The first week wasn't so bad. After embarrassingly tripping on equipment or accidentally dropping weights here and there, it was alright! Though at times, it was still difficult to stay consistent, until one day, you saw him.

Over on the other side of the gym, curling some dumbbells (100s, mind you), was a total 6-foot, thick, hairy dream of a man. You first noticed his chiseled face adorned by fine lines, locks of black hair framing it. With each draw of the weights, his biceps bulged. Beads of sweat trickled down his bulky chest and wide shoulders. When your eyes wander downward, you're surprised to not find washboard abs.

Oh no, what you find instead excites you even more than any pack of abs could offer you.

Your mouth waters slightly to find that his tank top has ridden up slightly over his hefty belly, graciously allowing a peek at a happy trail, its path sadly blocked by some basketball shorts (his cute bubble butt and giant dick print made up for it tho).

Despite his low, breathy grunts and intense crimson gaze towards his own reflection, he was making it look easy. You thought about how easy it'd probably be for him to carry you bride-style and throw you onto a bed before spreading your legs with those enormous hands so he could feast until your eyes crossed. Or how it'd be effortless for him to hold you tightly with your legs wrapped around that stocky midsection of his while he bullied his-

"'scuse me, you waiting for this bench?" a deep voice snaps you out of a daydream. You see the man is now looking at you with what looks like a knowing smirk. Fuck, he noticed you staring.

"Oh! N-no, was just looking for the 10s!" You blurt, evoking a velvety chuckle and dashing smile from him.

"Right over there." He motions with his chin toward the weight rack where the 10s are obviously displayed. After you thanked him, He smiled and nodded back to you, turning back toward the mirror to do his last set.

The second week felt like no problem. Instead of dragging yourself to the gym, you looked forward to it, scanning for your new gym crush every time you entered.

You'd feel a lil surge of happiness when you do find him there, feeling brave enough to exchange smiles and sometimes even little waves from across the gym. One time, the older man made you swoon when he winked at you upon entering the gym. After seeing your cute reaction, this would be how he greeted you every time.

The third week came You're at the squat rack, feeling stronger than usual, so you opt to go the heaviest you've ever gone. Big mistake. By the third rep, you fail to get back up, panicking and legs shaking. Just when you feel yourself start to fall, you see a pair of hands dart toward the bar from behind you, lifting it with ease and allowing you to stand back up. The bar is re-racked and you turn to find gym bae.

"You okay?" he gently prompts, a worried look on his face.

"Yes, thank you... think I might've gone too heavy." you nervously chuckle. He does as well, seeing that you're alright.

"Next time you go for a PR, you need to ask for a spotter, hun." He gives you that dashing smile again, his hands on his love handles.

"Yeah, I probably should've," you lower your head in defeat, "I didn't bring anyone with me though."

"You could've asked me," He says matter of factly as if it should've been obvious that he should be the one to spot you. "I would've done it with no problem, mama." His pet names make your womanhood pulse.

You look back up at him, your lips curled into a shy smile.

"C'mon, let's try again." "No, no, mama, I got that, I'll put it away for you." "Keep your knees like this-theeeere you go. "Gimme one more, mama, just one more, you can do it." "Atta girl! Good job, mamita."

You learned that his name is Miguel. He'd become your designated spotter on leg days, the sensation of his larger frame against yours making you nervous in the best way.

Your favorite is when his tummy accidentally brushes against your back, and borderline, your ass, and if not his tummy, it'd be his prominent bulge (which isn't there bc he gets to spot the adorable girl with an amazing ass from the gym... totally not that).

On the Fourth week, Miguel would ask you if you wanted to be workout buddies altogether. Of course, you accept, in which he asks for your number so like that, he can text you when he's going and vice versa.

It's the fifth week, and you both have worked out together a couple times already. Miguel texted you in the morning asking if you'd like to join him, which you were totally down for.

You two started with lateral pull-downs. Once it was your turn, you sat on the machine and reached for the handle, pulling it as you began your set.

Anytime you felt like you wanted advice or correction, Miguel eagerly helped you.

His hands would stay on your waist, his warm breath tickling your ear. "Mhm, there you go, you're doin' so good, mama." He praises in almost a whisper.

If only he knew he was making the exercise only harder. As if that weren't enough, his finger would occasionally message your hip. Your bodies were so close that you were able to hear each satisfied hum from his lips, suggesting you were doing the exercise right.

"Good girl, that was better. You feel it now?" He says, letting go to let you off the machine.

"Yeah, thank you! When it comes to upper body, I'll need all the help I can get. I'm just glad I’m getting it from an upper-body master." You flirtatiously add, playfully poking at one of his biceps.

This makes him blush, but only for a moment before he returns with a cocky response, "Thanks, hun. I'm glad to be working out with a leg-day goddess."

Now it was your turn to blush, except you didn't have any smart comeback, boosting Miguel's ego.

"Listen, let me treat you to smoothie after this, yeah?" He says it more like a statement than a request, and you happily oblige.

What you were expecting was a simple, cheap smoothie from a spot you usually go to, but instead, you're met with a drive-thru menu listing shakes from $20 and up. Oh he got moneyyyy.

Miguel tells you to pick any that looks good to you. He orders for himself and you as well, parking the car once the two of you get the smoothies.

As he sips from the cup, you take the opportunity to subtly glance at his figure, his muscles, how his pecs sit beautifully on top of his soft belly, his thighs constrained by the confines of his gym shorts. You think how badly you wanna sit there, grinding on the print 'til there was a wet spot-

"Something on your mind, mama?" You look back at him, taking a few seconds to register his words.

You hastily look back down at your drink and shake your head, “Nothing… thank you so much for this, it’s delicious!”

then he grabs the shoulder of your chair to lean toward you, “Of course, mama, but I don’t think you’re being completely truthful with me, hm?”

You look at him, playfully shaking your head again, knowing full well you’ve been caught.

“What’s in that pretty lil head of yours, hm? dime.” He puts the smoothie into the cup holder to free his other hand, placing it on your thigh, and softly squeezes it. “Just say the word, and you’ll get anything you want.”

Your lips curl slyly as you think of a response.

“Well… we never did cardio.”

Now you were here in his car, being bounced on his fat dick on the passenger seat, holding onto his his big shoulders for dear life. You were basically his fleshlight at this point… with those big hands.

You could feel his body now taut against yours, your tits bouncing relentlessly, his muscled, thick thighs below your ass, his balls slapping against your pussy lips, his bush tickling your clit, his pelvis pushing your ass up and his curved belly against your front side. It all was sending you into euphoria.

With you vigorously bouncing on his cock and his beautiful moaning, you fully let go. “Aw yes, Daddy,“ you mumbled without thinking.

In fact, you couldn’t think at all. All you knew was this fat cock and your pussy was memorizing all its veins and curves.

“Mmfuck baby, yea, say that again f’me”, he groaned through gritted teeth as he mercilessly bounced you down his painfully hard shaft.

“Please, Daddy, please!” You whined with your hands desperately seeking support on his big shoulders.

You can feel the sheet of sweat on his belly and on his thighs, which turned the smacking of your ass sound even more lewd.

“Fuck, say it again.” He growled, getting faster now.

“Mmmm, Daddy— Daddy, pleaseeee.”

“Louder, baby, c’mon—“

“UNGH DADDYYYY”

“Oh FUCK… you wanted cardio, baby, I’ll give you cardio… fuckin’ take it… coño.” Your panting became synchronized with every pound of his cock into your abused and bruised cunt, getting higher and higher in pitch, firing him up to go faster and harder.

“Gonna cum on this fat cock, right? Gonna cum f’me, mami?” He ordered, dropping octaves from his usual gentle tone with you.

“Mmmnn, Nnyesyyesyesyes—“ you babbled, the shakiness of your voice the result of the aggressive bouncing.

“Ah… carajo…” his cock accidentally slips out from your cunt, making you wince from the sudden empty sensation, “ungh!”

Holding up your ass, he takes a moment to admire the view, hissing from the sight of his angrily red cock and veins pulsing from your cunt sucking him in so deliciously. A ring of your cream erotically placed at the base of his length, just above his perfect bush. He guides his fat tip back to your dripping cunt using his thumb, pushing it back into your swollen folds.

He was back to ramming into your abused cunt in no time, chasing each others high’s.

“C’mon…fuck, c’mon, mama, you’re almost there…. Aw f-fuck… almost there…” he moans with his brows knitted and through a clenched jaw.

“Daddy I’m g’na— I’m cummingimcummingimcumming—“

“Aw, fuck, asi— asi mami— ah, ah…” Miguel holds back choked whines as he get closer, not allowing himself to let go until he knew you came first.

You speak in gibberish before crying into your climax, Miguel letting out a long, exasperated groan when he reaches his. You can feel his hot cum overfilling you, making you whine as it leaks down your thigh.

After draining himself completely, making sure every drop was in you, he gently pulls out, “Fuck… you did so good for me, mama… so good.”

Miguel lets you rest against his heaving chest and soft belly, rubbing your back as you caught your breath. You smiled a tired smile when you notice how hard Miguel is breathing as well, knowing you worked him out, too.

“You ok, mamita?” He plants a tender kiss on your shoulder, making a trail up your neck and finally to your forehead.

“Mhm,” you hum, you look up at him and are met with his plump, wet lips, tongues becoming entangled with each other as he groans into your mouth.

“I say… we do cardio like this every day.”

A/n: Haiii, I hope u liked it <3 Love my man sm <3 None of my gym baes could ever compare to himmmmm😭😭😭

@angel-of-the-moons Ty Ty Ty my luv for planting the seed in my head <3

Want more DadBod!Miguel ? Here’s my master list, bae!!

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Run Away To Me (III)

AU MASTERLIST || FINAL CHAPTER

PAIRING: Blacksmith!Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Runaway Bride!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 5.1k

WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, medieval period-esc standards for women, arranged marriage, toxic family dynamic/relationship, blood, angst, protective Johnny, violence, hurt/comfort, speedy relationship, talks of sex/intimacy (nothing in depth) & virginity pertaining to marriage, religious symbolism & mentions, etc.

A/N: That's it for this AU - onto Werewolf!Ghost next.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You’re kept behind Johnny’s back as you both exit the treeline, and you feel yourself quivering with unease. 

What would Lord Wilkin do to you? Drag you back? As the shelter of the trees leaves you, you tighten your grip on the blacksmith’s tunic, breathing out a shaky puff of air. Cobalt eyes look back at you, trying to reassure you as the first calls start up from the guards.

Johnny whispers out, his accent deep. “It’s gonna be just fine.” 

“She’s here!” 

Hounds dash forward but with a sharp bark of, “Get back!” They skid along the dewy grass and halt with rabid barks instead, fur bristled and spittle flying. The men surge forward, and you gasp as they grapple at Johnny’s arms. 

One tries to snatch at the neck of your cloak, but a strong arm traps the armored wrist and twists it sideways, snapping the bone as you stare wide-eyed as the guard screams; jerking back and stumbling to his knees. With a fluid motion, Johnny grasps the handle of the downed guard’s sword as he writhes with agony, unsheathing the blade and laying it upon the breast of the other with a dim call. 

He glowers and glares, eyes like burning coals. 

“I suggest you step back,” you watch, holding your breath from over his shoulder as the blacksmith leans closer to the man, one arm kept behind him and resting on your hip. “‘Fore this gets bloody.” The guard raises his hands and backs up quickly, fear splashing his eyes. 

All of the others watch nervously from the sidelines, either reigning in steeds or holding their hands to the pommels of their weapons. Waiting. 

You swallow the saliva in your throat and ask, quietly, “Are you alright?” 

“Don’t twist your head about me,” Johnny reassures, eyes traveling around the homestead as the guards shuffle and share glances. The Scot grits his teeth and tries to think of a way out of this. 

If you had run, just as the man had anticipated, they would have caught up in no time.

The clop of hooves from your left draws both of yours’ attention in a quick succession of perked heads and pounding hearts. You feel your blood drop to pool in your feet at the face that meets you. Johnny growls and shoves you farther into his shadow as Lord Wilkin comes closer with a horse of bay coat, decorated with all the finery of his station. Gold, great coat with an embroidered tunic, and riding boots. Strapped at his waist was a dagger encrusted with gems made of blood and diamonds.

Never mind all that wealth, he looked ugly and cruel to you—a glint of arrogance in his eye. You glare and grit your teeth, rage coming off in waves from Johnny as well as yourself. 

Wilkin’s old face is the same you remember smirking down at you as he drove the ceremonial blade into your palm, and your entire hand flinches in memory, digging your nails into the Scot’s waist. 

He puffs a sound of reassurance but otherwise doesn’t move an inch from in front of you.

“And who might this be holding my bride hostage?” The Lord’s voice is sly. Black eyes dart up and down Johnny’s form and the man you latch to has to restrain a rabid grunt of anger. Stay his molten tongue. “A blacksmith?”

“It’s MacTavish, to you,” Johnny calls, tone dead and laced with danger. Your body restrains a shiver as his warm skin sinks into you; the memory of his lips on yours is addictive, even now. “Be best for you to remember it, eh? Considerin’ I’m the one who supplies your fucking guards with arms.” 

Lord Wilkin utterly ignores him, his gaze sliding to you halfway through his sentence. You stay silent, lungs tight inside of your ribs. The unfortunate truth was that Johnny still had more standing here than you did, anything that you said would come up as null and void; in fact, it would be better to be completely mute. 

But with how the Lord was looking at you, your teeth had to bite into your lip to silence yourself. You had to come up with a way out of this. Soon. 

“Take my bride away from this brute. Chain him.” Wilkin hides a smirk, pulling at his steed’s reigns to shift the beast away with a snort and a flick of a dark tail. “I want his head on the block in the town square by tomorrow. I have a wedding to finalize.”

“Let the fires of hell go cold if I go anywhere with you,” you say, stepping out slightly from behind Johnny, much to his hesitation, but still, he watches over you and lets you do as you please. The blacksmith would rather not have this Lord’s eyes anywhere near you if he’s being honest with himself.

This Scot had made you bold—his words gave finality. If he said nothing would happen to you, you believed him. Perhaps that made you foolish, but his word meant far more than anyone else. Johnny kept his promises.

Lord Wilkin’s horse is jerked to a stop, its head snapping back and forth with a frothing mouth. His eyes travel back and a slow sneer pulls at his lips, sitting under a mustache of white hair. You restrain a cringe, and Johnny barks an order to the advancing guards to stay back as his large feet set themselves. 

“If they grab me,” he mutters, speaking over his shoulder, “run, Little Lady. I’ll be sure to give you an opening.”

Your eyes widen in shock and horror, but before you can answer, your husband-to-be calls to you. The Blacksmith’s expression is the picture of defense as he angles the sword in his grip at the far-off Lord when even the barest hint of his tone indicates you.

A low grunt was ringing in his throat like that of an animal—as if the bear fur inside of the house had come to life and was a shield of muscle and iron shavings.

Your eyes blink, and something begins forming in your head, but it’s gone before you can really grasp it.

“My Lady,” Lord Wilkin states, his guards taking up places beside him, glaring. The hounds have still not gone silent, and Johnny eyes them nervously. “I believe you’ve been overcome by some…” He grumbles and gnashes his teeth in rage. “Spell of disobedience. I’ll have a physician examine you and keep you in my home for a stay of recovery—”

“The lady said she’s not goin’ with you,” Johnny seethes, pupils slits. Your hand rests on his back, spread over the swell of his broadness as you feel his pulse. Hot and racing. “So pack the fuck up and scatter! And take the bloody mutts with you!” 

You spare a worried glance at the back of his head. The blacksmith can’t possibly believe that threatening them will make Wilkin pull back, and when he meets your eyes, you know he doesn’t just by the wrinkles by the sides of his lids. 

He’s nervous, shifting his feet in small increments to try and push you nearer to the tree line. Your body hardens. 

You’ve already made your mad dash—there was no more running. Certainly not if your new center of affection and protective build wasn’t coming with you. 

Wilkin raises a brow. “Quite demanding for the man surrounded…Woman!” You flinch at the sudden shout, the quick rage of his snapping head, and the quick switch. Johnny glares and his hands are strangling the hilt of the sword, white and held still. The Lord barks, “Your parents gained valuable gifts for your well-bred hand—would you enjoy them being taken away? I can do so.” Dark eyes sweep over you. A smirk. “Forget this spark of madness and consummate what you know to be done.”

Johnny lunges with a snarl, eyes burning with horrible anger and the intent to cut the head off the snake. The guards meet him as he yells to you, “Run, Dearie!” 

But your feet are stone.

When the man realizes you’re going nowhere without him, his eyes gain a sheen of panic as his blade clashes with sparks of steel with another. A dance of feet and wit that speaks to years of careful study; practice from both parties. Wilkin looks smug as Johnny lets off a loud curse and has to turn his attention back to the fight.

“Seems the woman’s come to her senses. Praise God, perhaps there’s hope for her yet.” You breathe heavily, hands clenched under your cloak. Your mind wished for a dagger—one to show this pathetic excuse of a man how much it hurt to try and have someone mark you for the pleasure of ownership. Like some common branded cow. 

Wilkin nods to you as Johnny gazes on in horror, narrowly dodging a swipe at his side before he elbows a guard in the face, splaying him out along the ground in a heap of leather and fabric.

“What are you doing?” He yells, voice booming out over the forest. You don’t look at him before you suck down a breath and steady your nerves; standing taller and setting back your shoulders. 

The trained grace that had been shoved down your throat on a silver platter came back easily. Forks and spoons sliding under your teeth, all engraved with images depicting holy scenes of sanctity while the blood of your flesh spills at the poke of thorns sitting on your head. A halo of bloody martyrdom. 

A tool. 

You can be a tool, you decide, flinching when Johnny’s body is tackled to the ground; form ricochetting as he growls and writhes. His sword clatters to the ground. They have him in binds, cheek shoved into the dirt, and great shackles that skirt the line between animal and human restraint. A guard’s hand forces his face deeper into the earth and Johnny bellows, ordering with wild eyes, “Run, dammit! Get out of here!” 

Sending a stiff glance, you stare blankly into cobalt eyes and blink away just as quickly, standing and staring down Lord Wilkin as he watches in contentment at the scene of the raging blacksmith and his seemingly placated bride. At the twitch of his lips, you raise your voice high. 

“Release him.” Dark eyes turn to slits before they slowly slither back to you. 

“Pardon?” You grit your teeth and feel Johnny glaring, a snarl ripping out of his mouth as he coughs through the grass. 

“Dearie, no!” A punch hits his stomach as he’s jerked up to his feet and attacked; chains rattling as hounds bay for blood. You sense your gut roll with bile as Johnny fights back—tree-like legs laying a kick square into one's abdomen. 

The two guards hang onto his arms, shouting at each other to try and restrain him further.

“I ask my husband-to-be to release the man that graciously gave me shelter during the storm,” staring hard, you’re trying to stop yourself from running to Johnny. You know you have nothing to help him with—it would be pointless and utterly stupid. 

Your brow raises, but a nervous twinge is still in your voice. “Does My Lord not take pride in the fact that the men of his fiefdom are so open to taking in those less fortunate than themselves?”

Wilkin’s cheeks go tight, skin pulling as the eyes of the free guards travel to him. The struggle gradually dies down across the way; cobalt eyes darting back and forth with panic. 

“Don’t bloody do what I think you’re doin’!” 

A trade would happen, but only for a moment. In your head, you were whipping past possibilities and scenarios. There was something on the cusp of discovery—so close to giving you the upper hand, but what was it? Like a thorn in your foot, you continue to walk over it; ready and willing. 

Johnny had your back last night, it was time you had his.

“Let the honorable blacksmith go,” you level. “And name your price.” 

The response is immediate. A flashing smirk. “Deal. I’ll take my bride back, just as was intended.”

“No!” Johnny’s tunic is all ripped up, tears from gripping hands only making the damage larger—nail scrapes along his hardened flesh from the guard’s ruthless hold. Skin white from the force.

If you look at him, you’ll lose your mind.

Under your cloak, your hands shake as Wilkin descends his horse, coming closer. 

“Keep your fuckin’ bastard hands off of ‘er!” 

Think. His footsteps march closer—thin and sly-looking like a sharp-eyed Egret. Think! 

Before his hand can snap at your wrist your mind sparks in a panicked moment, and you’re exclaiming with a loud voice before you can stop yourself or think the sentence through. You stutter at first but quickly gain your footing. 

“I-In good faith, I cannot accept—I am unfaithful to you, Lord!” 

The entire homestead goes still, and those struggling with Johnny’s binds freeze. Lord Wilkin goes confused, his wrinkled visage peeling in like a rotted corpse. But no faces are quite as good as the blacksmith’s, who goes so pale and wide-eyed before he can school himself in secrecy; his jaw loose. His heart pounds in his breast, shreds of tunic waving in the wind. You continue with utter conviction, so much so that you even start to believe the lie you’ve crafted with a swift mind. “See the evidence upon the blacksmith’s sheets—where we lay last night in the throes of lust; I am no longer a pure bride.” Breaths get caught in throats; eyes bugging to a nonsensical degree. You swear someone choke. Your face burns as you continue, faking a shameful falling of your chin. 

“I cannot marry you!” It’s almost enough to break you, the realization on Johnny’s expression as he darts his vision to your hand—which you hide inside your cloak; wrapped around your waist with false fear. Blood on your hand. 

Blood on the sheets.

“It would be shameful to do so, do you not understand? I am not but a used good.” Fake or not, the last comment still makes Johnny’s hands clench his jaw working itself with a restrained growl. 

But pride furrows his brow. A smirk was forced back from his lips.

You just took away what Wilkin loves more than anything else—control. 

The older man halts, his mouth going agape and a vile sheen coming to his cheeks. He stutters, “I...what?” It’s a violent snarl, but the man balks back from you as if you’re infected. “You dare lie to me, Girl? Play off this fallacy?” 

“It’s no lie,” you say, gaining confidence with how Johnny watches you closely, only once rumbling at the guards that hold him when they tighten their grip. “The evidence is plain as day in the Blacksmith’s bed.” 

Wilkin’s eyes flash, and he barks an order to one of his men to enter the main house. Only when his dark eyes are off of you do you spare a look at Johnny. 

You sag softly, shoulders losing some tension. 

Blue eyes lock with yours, firm. Sending an apologetic squint of your eyes, the man only slightly shakes his head, mouthing out, “Don’t worry your little head about it.” A quick, barely-there smile flashes his lips—but then you have to look away before you let the shaking of your body be known. No matter how hard you plead with your muscles to stop vibrating, they do so instinctually. 

You know what lying about this will cost you, successfully or not. You’d be labeled for the rest of your life; separate. But Johnny’s eyes on you ease the pain. Lets you breathe. If the worst thing that could happen to you was living out your life in his homestead and being at his side, then perhaps social execution was the only thing that pleased you at the moment. 

You just hoped that it didn’t lead to an actual execution.

“Lord!” The guard returns as Johnny continues to watch you, panting, with sweat dripping down his chin. His ribs hurt something awful, but he only glowered at the men holding him and stayed his violent tongue to let you work your strengths like fine iron wrought in the fire of his hearth. 

Wilkin’s lackey was hurriedly carting the length of the Blacksmith’s sheets behind him—clutching in his fist the vibrant red stain of your blood and displaying it to the light. Thinking about what they saw it as, instead of your wound opening, you cringe and restrain a sound of disgust. 

Even being around Johnny for as little time as you had, despite the kiss and infatuation, you had forgotten how crude the rest of these men could be. It’s like this sanctuary of trees and dew-soaked ground was in an entirely different world, and these intruders were wrecking it. By Johnny’s face, he felt the exact same.

Half of the Scot wanted to save your honor and tell them you were lying, but the desperation of the situation was far more serious than that. He couldn’t let you go back to Wilkin—he’d promised. So Johnny took down a tight breath and stayed silent; face burning and glaring at the ground with clenched fists shaking for blood. 

The guards holding his arms slightly release their grip, listening intently themselves.

Blanking, the Lord’s eyes lock onto the stain as the man brings him the fabric. Not a moment later his hand snaps out to drag it to his face, looking daggers into the redness as his eyes snap from place to place.

“...You did this on purpose,” the slow dead tone takes you aback, hands around your abdomen digging further into your flesh as a dread spills into your stomach with blossoming unease. 

“M-my Lord?” Johnny tenses, eyes sharp like a wolf.

“You did this so you could spite me, you little,” the encrusted dagger is unsheathed from its scabbard. “Whore!”

“Shut the fuck up!” The blacksmith bursts with wrath, jerking forward so violently that he drags the guards holding him along the ground, their calls of alarms making the hounds go ballistic. 

You take a small step back as Wilkin gets nearer to you—the point of the blade setting itself right under your chin; tilting your head up. Breath going tight, you stare with wide eyes and a pounding heart. 

He wouldn’t kill you…would he? 

The Lord’s eyes are brimstone and deeper than Hell, holding sinners in the bars of his pupils while devils of brown specks prod the pool of obsidian. If a man could be on fire and still be living, Wilkin was an inferno incarnate. 

“You belong to me,” he grits his teeth as Johnny’s voice blurs in the background, having to be forced to his knees by three men yet still nearly throttling one with the force of his arms. “I paid for you.”

“Then you should find it a lost investment,” you shakily reply, not knowing how you have the strength to stare into Wilkin’s eyes. But you do. You stare and you hold your hands tight into your flesh until the skin under your gifted fabric aches. A small prick of the blade makes you suck in a tight inhalation, a tiny droplet of crimson sneaking down your throat.

It’s a battle of wills, and before you say what you’re thinking, you’re nearly sure that in less than three seconds you’ll be grasping a slit throat. 

You clear your throat softly and speak in a dim whisper. “How will your guards react to you killing a woman in anger?” Expressions freeze. “What does God say about that?” You swallow, throat bobbing. Hit him where it hurts. “...What would the townspeople say? Mercy is not above our great Lord, that is an earthly prospect. I believed that was your greatest quality, is that not what everyone believes?” 

Wilkin stares, his mustache twitching. Dead face. Dead eyes. 

It’s a long, long moment before anything else happens, and when it does, you flinch.

The dagger disappears from your chin and you instantly back up several steps, breathing unevenly. Pointedly, you place your uninjured hand on your slowly dripping skin. 

Johnny’s taken down three of the guards, their faces bloody and your blacksmith’s nose broken. He yells and screams curses. You feel your heart constrict at the sight, pain zooming down your veins in bursts of adrenaline, but it’s seconds later that Wilkin speaks, loudly so that everyone can hear.

“I would never harm a woman,” you hold back a violent scoff as your hands shake, wanting to be taken into Johnny’s arms now more than ever—feel his heat and inhale his scent. Wrapped in a blanket of steel and ash. “In my good graces, I will pray for your salvation, Miss. But being soiled—” 

“Bloody piss off!” You send Johnny a quick glance at the outburst. He’s forced back face-first into the ground with a grunt and sputtering of grass in his mouth. 

“I no longer wish to be joined with you in holy matrimony. It would be dishonorable to my station.” Dark eyes swim with hatred, but the tone of his voice is easy and pliable. The Lord was a good fake—he plasters on an appeasing smile for his men and waves a quick hand in the air as he turns to his horse. “Release the brute. Let the pair roll in their sin of carnal desire. God will be their judge.”

Johnny struggles as they unlock his chains, but the second he’s out he’s springing full-force towards you; his skin sliding across your cloak as you’re guarded far better than any loyal hound or King might be. 

“Johnny,” you grapple at his biceps, sighing raggedly in relief. He doesn’t brush you off, only curling his side around you and angling his head to the mounted horses; pupils slits and lungs heaving. His nose looks awful. “Don’t, don’t,” you plead, “It’s over.”

The man doesn't respond, looking feral as his hair goes this way and that; coiled around your body about to strike at anything that comes close. 

“I’ll kill him,” Johnny grunts. “I’ll rip his damn throat out for speakin’ to you like that—for puttin’ a knife to your throat. I’ll rip him into bloody bits and pieces, you just say the word, Little Lady.”

Your arms encase the one of his you’re holding, dragging the limb to your chest. Cobalt eyes dart back to your face. It’s a long moment, but his expression softens slightly—the wrinkles beside his eyes easing while his lips twitch down. Blood drips off his lower face, spread around his under eyes, and stains his stubble with crimson gore.

“Please,” you mutter. 

He looks down and nods stiffly, even if he doesn’t like it. 

The horses are rallied, the hounds called, and with a throw of dirt from their hooves the convoy is off. Silence returns in slow increments of nothingness. 

Wind, the call of a bird, and the babble of a far-off stream echo through the pines. Only when they’re entirely out of sight and the dust has cleared that Johnny swiftly moves, picking you up into his arm. You squeak as he carries you speedily into the main house, rushing to place your backside on the table. 

His large hands immediately tilt your head up to spy the tiny mark from Wilkin’s blade, and you feel his shuttered breath against your throat as you go heated. 

“J-Johnny, what are you…” But you don’t get an answer, the man disappearing before coming back with a wetted rag. Once more, the man cleans your wounds with delicate presses of the cloth—ridding you of all blood. 

His jaw is clenched, and as you watch, your hand in your lap twitches. 

In a broken act of pain, you lightly run your fingertips over the swelling of his nose. The man stops, but serious eyes stick to your throat—unable to meet your gaze; there’s a red sheen to his neck and ears. Anger or embarrassment, you know not.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, guilty, and his widened gaze rips itself to lock with yours. Your vision blurs, afraid to touch him fully as if it might burn him.

“No,” he’s shaking his head. “No, you never tell me that. What you did, Dearie…I,” Johnny stutters, closing his mouth before opening it again. “I should be apologizing to you. It wasn’t fair to make you do that. Any of it.” 

A wobbly smile flicks your lips.

“Are you saying I should have left you?” Johnny moves his face farther into your hand, blood contaminating your skin but you don’t pull away. You let him sag into your palm instead, reveling in the scrape of his stubble against your soft hands. 

“I’d not see you harmed,” is all he answers. 

You sigh and blink away your tears, stealing the man’s rag so you can dab at the bloody nostrils. Johnny’s pulse is still fast under you—like the pound of his hammer. 

“Well,” his eyes dig into yours and you smile. “I believe my priorities are the same. I may have only met you yesterday, but I’ve grown quite fond of you.”

“Aye, well, everyone will know how fond soon enough.” He’s more worried about this than you are, a stubborn and almost grumbly tone to his words. 

“Is my purity that much of a sore point for you?” You can’t help but tease him, even in the circumstances. “I had no idea.”

His face goes more crimson than his own blood, and he blinks at you rapidly. 

“I…That isn’t what I…” You chuckle gently and press your forehead to his, whispering. 

“I was just joking.” He sags with relief, his hands coming up to rest on your hips with the care of a man unbefitting to his station. Again, you have to ask yourself how an individual so intimidating can be, at the same instance, kind and generous. 

His lips mutter, brows tight. “Are ya sure you’re alright, Hen?” 

You think, wondering about the run through the forest when this all began, the plea for shelter. Such a deep coincidence that you’d end up here—perhaps the most safe place in the entire fiefdom. Everything had lined up perfectly, barring a few bumps in the road. You doubted Wilkin will mess with this place after the spreading of your ‘promiscuous’ behavior.

He was too sly for outright violence if given the option.

“Yes,” you know, and thin your lips. “What about your nose? A-and everything else?”

“Don’t think about it,” the Scot smiles, eyes still glinting with worry. So many hours and you’d barely gotten any sort of break. “I just want you to rest, then, eh?” 

Maybe it was outwardly obvious, but the entire ordeal had left you drained; shaky, and still coming off of panic. What if they had killed Johnny…? 

You’d go back to Wilkin and live as his wife, producing heirs and locked away in his estate for the remainder of your life. What kind of existence was that? No, you knew, you’d never live like that. 

You’d never live like that here. 

With a shaky breath, you watch Johnny’s eyes flash with concern for a moment by your silence, but before he can speak you’re pressing your lips to his in a firm and honest kiss—sinking in every emotion you could. 

The man grunts in surprise, but doesn’t move back; if anything, his grip on your hips increases, sliding up to your waist. 

After a moment of tasting flesh, you pull back and whisper, “Thank you.”

Johnny breathes heavily, a glimmer in his blues, “Well,” he grumbles, “I’d say you did most of the work.” 

You both share a chuckle before you’re lifted again, carried gently over to the bed without sheets. You’re placed atop the bear fur and wrapped in that instead after your cloak is unclipped and folded neatly, set on the floor. Outside, the call of a far-off storm hits your ears and you blink to the window. 

“Stay with me?” You ask before you can stop yourself or can even think. 

The blacksmith’s breath catches, his fingers flinching as they were pulling the fur tighter around your neck. 

It’s a moment before he asks in a quiet tone. 

“You sure you want this, Dearie?” His lips go tight, eyes narrowing in inner conflict. You stare and already know the answer just by how he speaks to you. “I’m no King. I…I can’t give you fine jewelry or fancy clothes. There’ll be no grand suppers beyond the game I catch or what I can afford to buy. Long winters.” 

The air goes quiet with worship, and your eyes go wide with care. His broken nose is crooked, but it doesn’t seem to bother him at all. You wonder if that was for your sake or his.

“I’m not someone worthy of your beauty,” he rubs at the back of his head, bending down by the edge of the bed. “Certainly not your smarts. I’m only a blacksmith, Little Lady.”

“Only?” You huff a chuckle. Johnny looks at you in confusion as the black clouds outside roll in, seen through the window of this quaint and lovely home. The hearth is warm, the scent of food still in the air, and the memory of a dash through the forest behind you. 

“If you’re only a blacksmith, Mr. MacTavish,” you’re sent a fake stern look as the back of a hand goes to brush your cheek. You shiver. “Then I’m only a runaway bride.”

“Aye,” Johnny admits with a growing smile of adoration, “but still a bonnie one, at that.” 

“...Stay with me?” You ask again. 

The man breathes out, “Tell me why.”

“The trees do not deny what they need to make them whole, Blacksmith,” you whisper. “Why should I?” 

He’s clambering under the fur, wrecked clothes, and blood on his face but never feeling more whole. Is so little a time enough to fall in love with someone? What deity had tied your souls together so soon with ribbon soaked in rainwater—tinged with blood? 

His lips meet yours as you sigh into him, hands gripping his arms as they circle your waist tightly. Johnny breathes you in and lets his hands span your back, fingertips digging into your clothes. Into his mouth, you whine a plea for him to keep you close and hold you tight. It’s all your need from him. It’s all you want. 

For the wise know best: there is nothing better than a simple life.

TAGS:

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[mockerycrow]

THE DAY WE MET (Roommate!Gaz x GN!Reader)

roommate!gaz masterlist — gaz pic origin here

reminder that requests aren’t open, but roommate!gaz thoughts are always welcome! — 1.2k words

a/n; this is a bit short!! we don’t know gaz’s exact age, but this is meant to be around 2005-2007. sorry to all of the playstation loyalists, me too bestie but i gotta be semi-accurate /hj — if you guys can’t tell, reader is implied to be the same age as gaz, so i might make references that aren’t entirely relatable, i apologize! — kofi

YOU AND KYLE FIRST met when you were teenagers. You were both fifteen years old. You met him during a summer camp; Kyle was always a charismatic person, even at fifteen years old. It’s how you two became fast friends in the first place. You had been dropped off in this wooded area, a couple of cabins lined up next to each other, your suitcase tucked against your legs and your backpack hanging onto your shoulders. Nervousness fluttered like unpleasant butterflies inside of your stomach as you watched adults, teenagers, and young children scurry about the campgrounds alike. The air smelled and felt damp; a bit cold as it was still early morning, despite the amount of people who seemingly had way too much energy for nearly six-thirty in the morning.

He was the first person to approach you—a side smile on his face as he felt your nervous energy. Kyle had already been there for several days by that point, he watched people pour into camp and he had made a few friends, but when he saw you? Standing off to the side, clearly overwhelmed and nervous, your fingers twitching against the handle of your suitcase? That was the first moment he knew he had to be your friend. Kyle didn’t mind if the friendship only lasted the duration of the summer, that’s a normal thing that happens. He’s been going to summer camp every other summer since he was nine years old, so there’s no doubt he made “just summer” friends.

Kyle walked up to you with his half smile, a confident stride, and he put his hand out to you, causing you to flinch ever so slightly, eyebrows raising in surprise at his ability to just.. Walk up to you and offer his hand. “Name’s Kyle,” He says, his voice not as deep as you know it is today due to age and due to puberty, of course. “What’s yours?”

Your mind blanks and fizzles out for a moment at the boy in front of you; beautiful curls and a dashing face—or at least what you considered dashing at fifteen years old—as well as a confident voice, despite his voice threatening to crack every other sentence. You clear your throat to get yourself on track as you’re sure you’ve kept him hanging long enough, and you take his hand, your shaky one meeting his firm one. You offer your name quietly, a nervous smile spreading across your face. Kyle coming up to you first made you feel a bit better, a confident boy who wasn’t afraid of interaction—a completely different stature than your own.

“How long are you here?” Kyle questioned you, his eyes roamed your suitcase and the too heavy backpack weighing on your shoulders. He could see the twinge of discomfort turning into borderline pain on your face, seeing how your eyebrow twitched and your nose would scrunch up a little bit. You took a second to process his words before you turned to him, as he walked to your right side, considering many people are still roaming the campsite. “All summer,” You answer, clearing your throat as you died from embarrassment because your voice squeaked. Kyle’s half smile widens into a full one, his fist punching your right upper arm for a moment. “Hey, alrigh’! Me too.”

Kyle looked around, seeing the camp counselors scrambling to get people to their correct assigned cabins. He looked at you, his eyes aimed down to your hands, where a small green piece of paper rested between your index and middle finger. His hand gestured to your hands, causing you to glance down at them. “What cabin did’ja get?” Kyle hummed as he leaned against the wooden fence that lined the camp area. It wasn’t there to really keep anything in or out, just to add to the forest-y feeling. You glanced down at the paper for a moment as your brain blanked. “Cabin five.” You responded, and your chest tightened at how this complete stranger’s eyes lit up in excitement. “Sweet, me too!” Kyle exclaimed. “Is all ‘ya paperwork sorted with?”

You nodded, and he grinned as he pushed himself off of the fence. “C’mon, I’ll help you get settled n’all.”

Kyle led you to cabin five, which was surprisingly empty at the time he helped you inside. There were people’s belongings strewn about the bunk beds, white masking tape on the front of the bunk bed frames with names scribbled on each tape, some beds remained unclaimed. The inside smelled like.. Well.. wood, considering it was a wooden cabin. It also faintly smelled like people’s various deodorants, as it was the age of “you don’t have to shower if you use spray deodorant”. Kyle led you to near one of the large windows by the back of the cabin. “This is my bunk,” He motioned to a bunk that was considerably well kept for a teenage boy—many teenage boys in the cabin didn’t keep their stuff neat, or in general—with a gameboy advance peeking out from under the pillow.

“Wait–you have a gameboy?” You gasped, completely forgetting about the all consuming anxious feeling that was swirling in your gut the moment you arrived outside of the camp. Kyle laughed and he nodded, swiping it up from under his pillow, and he handed it to you. Your jaw is dropped open and you mindlessly let your suitcase plonk onto the floor, as well as your backpack which makes a thump. You look up at him and grin, and Kyle definitely noticed the change in your demeanor, your eyes locking for the first time. “What games do you have with you?”

You two spent the rest of the time together setting up your bunk—you ended up being his top bunk, he moved a lot in his sleep so he opted for a bottom one—and talking about video games, family, friends back at home; everything, all until the camp counselors rounded everyone up around 0830. From that moment on, you two were attached at the hip the entire summer. You clicked nearly instantaneously, clicked so close you two acted like you’ve known each other since early childhood. You two partnered up for everything, and at the end of the camp? Kyle blinked in surprise when you didn’t only hand him your home phone number, but also your email, as well as your xbox gamertag.

Your clear efforts to stay in contact weren’t unwelcomed; in fact, he very much appreciated your efforts. Kyle had such a good time with you over the two or so months together, he didn’t want you to become a “just summer” friend that he would possibly see next summer. He wanted to talk to you as much as possible, because you two just clicked so well. Kyle couldn’t recall anyone else he genuinely clicked so well and fast with, and he was determined to stay friends.

Kyle let a stupid grin out on his face when you accepted his friend request on xbox after a few days following the end of summer camp, and you sent an invite to him to play a game you both own; a very famous first person shooter.

[nenabi]

cherry blossom kiss : lee heeseung + the inspo ﾉ suggestive . college!auヾ(´∇｀○)

your friend helps you put on flavored, tinted lip balm.

“stay still.”

the hand on your chin felt like warm velvet compared to your frost bitten skin. a feathery touch dabbing ever so gently along your chapped lips, something you’re unfamiliar with. his dark eyes carefully watch over your quivering mouth — his own twitching into an obnoxious smirk. the moment he annunciate a simple command you squirmed even more, the grip along your jaw tighter, somehow forcing you into a subconscious submission.

with your eyes sealed shut and breathing nervously trapped into your lungs, the breathless laughter from heeseung made you flinch as it grazed against your cold cheek.

“you ask for my help, yet you make it soo difficult.” heeseung mumbles playfully against your ear, undoubtedly closer than you realized.

the sinking darkness you sought refuge in became lost in reality as you finally had the courage to open your eyes, batting off the white snow that melted over your lashes. his teasing gaze lingers over your half glossed lips and finally to your glassy eyes, the haughty smirk you imagined beneath your eyelids was definitely real and plastered across his naturally rosy lips.

you definitely did not ask for help. well, maybe you implied it.

hell, winter air was harsh this time around and the usual warmth of your skin felt frozen to the touch, the sniffling of your poor nose worsened with every drop to the thermometer. coming back from your class and commuting back on foot left your face numbly cold and dried like a raisin.

you practically whined when you unlocked the apartment door, groaning loudly at the wave of warmth and making heeseung well known to your current problem by invading his personal space on the fluffy couch and shaking off the melted snowflakes onto his freshly washed clothes like a wet dog.

“hee, my lips are dry!” you wailed dramatically, hoping to gain some sympathy from your snowy journey that actually took only five minutes to complete.

he turns his head to the side with a quirked brow.

“should i apply lip balm for you?”

maybe it was the sultry tone in his voice when he asked, or the pinkish glint of mischief in his brown eyes that had you nodding dumbly before dashing into your room and scrambling to get a random tinted lip balm left on your vanity.

now, your face is flushed from how quickly you gave into him and nearly losing unconscious with the way you’ve held your breath every time he carefully dusted his rough fingertips over your cracked lips.

you just pouted and huffed at his little quip, complying a little more. your breathing was much more calmer, effectively avoiding his alluring stare that he constantly tossed at you throughout the whole process.

the rosy color painted along the thin indents of his fingertips, printing the pretty pigment over your pursed lips. ignoring heeseung seemed to do the job because he was focused on layering an even coat that began to soften the peeling and dried skin that made your lips nearly bled — even to the point of him sticking out his own tongue between his lips.

his breath and yours were in a lulling rhythm, it felt warm and inviting than the whirling heater beside the both of you. the death grip he had on your face was now much more comforting yet firm, lingering over to wrap possessively around your neck when your body finally relaxed.

it felt weirdly intimate to do this with a friend, with his hand perfectly molded into a lifelike necklace, his senses filled with your honeyed perfume and the sight of your pouty lips and shy gaze. heeseung was holding back the aching desire to simply whisper sweet nothings against your lips — wanting so desperately to see them flutter nervously like he casted a silencing spell on them.

but his own racing thoughts left his other hand unsteady and accidentally smudge the flattering layer he applied, leaving a red hue at the edge of your mouth.

you finally look at heeseung, your smitten daze broken from the abrupt brush along your chin.

“hm, sorry.” heeseung doesn’t mean it when he says that, carnal heat enveloping over his face.

“‘s fine.” you flickered your eyes curiously at the crimson blush over his cheeks and ears.

a pause.

“it’s flavored, right?” he talks slowly.

you blinked, the even expression his face scaring you a bit. “yeah…”

he watches your mouth when you reply and quirks a brow at his balm-coated thumb.

suddenly, heeseung darts out his tongue and licks the balmy residue off his thumb — humming at the artificial sweetness before grinning widely.

“oh, it tastes good. cherry flavored, probably.”

um, what?

you looked at heeseung dumbfounded, darting your eyes wildly towards his stained thumb to the stupid grin plastered on his pretty face. stunned and paralyzed to silence.

there was no time for awkwardness to engulf the atmosphere once again when heeseung leans to graze his tongue along your bottom lip, gently pulling at your chin to properly seal your mouth onto his. immediately your lashes flutter shut when the caress of his tongue wetted over the honeyed balm that he previously took his sweet time applying. now it was smeared all over your blushing face from his wandering tongue and warm saliva. he crudely laughs in your mouth when your desperate whines vibrated against his kitten licks, tugging you once again by the base of your throat to taste yourself on his taste buds with a flatten tongue over yours — attempting to soothe your nerves with his painted thumb brushing gently over your bobbing throat.

the hints of ambrosial cherry and a wash of floral nectar permeated over your drooling tongue, but the spellbinding notes of heeseung’s deep tart perfume and the bittersweet hints of chocolate from his unruly mouth is what made your head feel dizzy.

before you could even push your luck into exploring his mouth even further, heeseung pulls away with a reflective gossamer chain linking both your rose stained lips — splitting in the middle as it lays a wet stain on his grey sweatpants. he doesn’t glance your way as he takes the crumpled foil-like packaging of the lip balm, reading the label curiously while you dumbly sit beside him in an unnerving silence, going into your own subspace of denial and confusion.

did you just make out with your friend just now?

he let out a satisfied breath. “i was kinda right,” heeseung suddenly says, turning to meet your spaced out look — tilting your chin to see his handiwork.

saliva coated, foggy eyed, and messily smeared with a perfect tinge of petal red.

he smiles.

“it’s cherry blossom flavored.”

nenabi © (￣^￣)ゞ: don’t repost, copy, or translate my work.

[whoistartaglia]

catching genshin men wearing your sweatshirt—part two

part one

xiao

the adeptus did not think himself overly fond of mortal attachments such as your sweatshirt, but once he puts it on, all of his preconceived notions die a swift death in the wind. it’s just so comfortable and warm and totally unlike his typical attire that he’s just grown attached to it—unfortunately for you, who hasn’t worn the sweatshirt in over a week now.

you’re laying next to xiao and he’s still wearing your sweatshirt when you drop the bomb on him.

“xiao, i want it back.”

he pretends to look hurt and possessively wraps his arms over his chest, hugging himself in the sweatshirt.

“[name], you can’t possibly be so cruel.”

“you’ve been wearing it for two weeks straight now.”

“two weeks is a blink of time for an adeptus,” he replies nonchalantly.

“but xiao…”

“you may have it back… one day.”

that day evidently wasn’t today. it’s not tomorrow either. when you start to question him, xiao disappears, teleports away. you need back up apparently, but even when you ask zhongli, hu tao, the entirety of liyue, xiao refuses to return it.

“it smells like you.”

“so?”

xiao shrugs, like his point has already been made, even though you’re more confused than before. but one day, you catch him lacking. you actually can’t believe your eyes when you just see it laying on your bed—it’s even folded, would you look at that. it also smells clean, freshly out of the wash.

you think you’ve won, victory in your grasp… until you come across xiao. wearing. your. sweatshirt.

“i got you another,” he explains. “now we have two.”

you’re so impressed at his tenacity that you can’t even be mad at him.

childe

in childe’s eyes, he’s done nothing wrong. yes, he snuck into the bedroom and grabbed your sweatshirt when you weren’t looking, but he’s the one who bought it for you in the first place. he’s a free man, honestly.

yet you still don’t budge on his stance he “stole” your sweatshirt when childe explained this all to you.

“i don’t want to hear your flimsy excuses.”

“they are not excuses!” childe says, pretending to be shocked and offended. he places a hand over his chest for dramatic effect, and you roll your eyes.

“give it back,” you demand, pulling at the sleeve. “it’s mine and i’m cold.”

“i thought sharing was caring—especially in such a loving a relationship like ours.”

you cringe at the word loving and childe grins.

“loving isn’t the word i’d use to describe you right now.”

“oh? would you rather use handsome, dashing, clever, extremely handsome—“

“you already said that,” you point out. childe merely shrugs, and you groan, exasperated. he’s definitely not going to give it back to you of his own free will.

an idea clicks in your head, and as if seeing the lightbulb go off, childe steps a self-preserving step back.

“[name], let’s talk it out here,” childe says nervously, giving you a smile you think he thinks is charming, convincing, not afraid.

“i already gave you that opportunity,” you tell him sweetly, advancing like a predator stalking its pray.

you don’t give him a second to think, to plan, before you pounce, knocking childe down onto the couch behind him. you’re on him, childe looking up at you with surprise, slight fear.

“you had your chance. i’m getting this sweatshirt back, whether you like it or not.” you smile triumphantly, and you think you’ve won, until childe slowly matches your sweet smile with a sugary one of his own.

“do you know how hot you look right now?” he asks.

you groan again for the thousandth time. maybe you should have just let childe keep the sweatshirt if these are the types of comments you’re gonna get while taking it off of him.

alhaitham

alhaitham has the audacity to laugh in your face when you ask for it back. well, you know he has a rather dry sense of humor, but isn’t this a little too much? when he sees your glare, alhaitham will calm down and explain his actions. according to him, since you always borrow his sweatshirts and wear his clothes, it’s only fair he does the same.

he thought it was fair, an equivalent exchange, except that now alhaitham is opening the doors and staring at a half-empty closet. so that’s how it’s going to be. alhaitham can picture your house, your room, filled with as many of his clothes as you could grab and hide.

when you see him later wearing clothes he foraged together, you laugh in his face, except that your smile faded and laughter dies down when you realize.

“you’re still wearing my sweatshirt?” you ask, glaring daggers at the familiar garment.

“yes, of course i am. you didn’t leave me anything else to wear.”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

this earns you a dry smile and raised eyebrow.

“then some other deranged fool broke into my house and stole all my clothes—including my shirt that you’re wearing right now?”

your cheeks heat up when you glance down. you didn’t even realize it was his—but given all his clothes littering your room, you suppose it was natural you’d grab at least one of his garments.

“maybe it was kaveh?”

“a good try, but no.” alhaitham poses for you like a model on a magazine. “i don’t know about you, but i think i look good in this. i’ll be keeping this sweatshirt for myself.” any protests fall on deaf ears; your sweatshirt has been sacrificed, and alhaitham had gained the knowledge of fashion in return…?

[deirdreskye]

Commercial I would produce as an advertising executive:

We see a husband approach his wife in the kitchen and he smacks her on the rear as she's unplugging a crockpot full of buffalo chicken dip. Their friends have turned the dining room table into beer pong tournament and the kids are laughing in the play room. It's Super Bowl Sunday.

This scene of domestic bliss plays out before us. Warm laughter, excited shouting as their team scores a touchdown, the wife steals a kiss from her husband between sips of wine. This must be what heaven looks like.

The doorbell rings and the husband grudgingly puts his beer down to go answer the door. Who could it be?

He opens the door and we see the latecomer: a giant slug the size of a man, wet and pink and undulating.

"You son of a bitch!" The husband exclaims. "We didn't think you'd make it! How the hell are ya?"

The slug gives no reply but the husband brings the creature into a warm embrace, its viscous discharge soaking his shirt. "Aw, hell, man," he laughs. "Say it, don't spray it!"

The slug makes its grand arrival in the living room, leaving a trail of slime on the hardwood floors. It receives a warm welcome. "Here comes trouble!" "They'll let anyone in this place!" "You missed the first quarter!"

We are subjected to a montage of scenes from the Superbowl party.

-

The kids excitedly dash in to crowd around the creature. "Mr. Wormy! We missed you!" they exclaim, hugging the thing and getting covered in its ooze. Several orifices around the creature's body begin to secrete a dark, chunky substance and the children begin to greedily eat it, their hands and mouths covered in its oily residue

"Whoa whoa whoa, I didn't raise you kids in a barn!" The mother says. "Go get some cups from the kitchen!"

-

"Yo, Mr. Wormy, you gotta try the buffalo chicken dip. It's to die for!" The husband says. He grabs a dripping handful of the warm orange cream cheese from the crockpot and pushes it into the folds of the creature's flesh.

"Quit bogarting the buff dip, hombre!" "Save some for the rest of us why don't ya?"

-

"Yo, Mr. W, I gotta use the can but I am NOT missing the game. Help me out?"

A sphincter at the top of the slug's "head" gapes itself open, and the guest drops his slacks and boxers to his ankles and climbs on top in front of everyone.

"Hoochie mama, that dip's even spicier coming out!"

"Just don't leave the seat up. Trust me, you'll thank me for that one when you and Stacy get married!"

"IF they get married, you mean!"

A loud belch is heard from the creature and the room explodes with laughter.

-

"Alright fellas, the game is over and the kids are in bed. I think we all know what this means!"

"Oh brother," the wife says, rolling her eyes at the other women. "Boys will be boys!"

The men are seen chanting "Wormy! Wormy! Wormy!" at each other as they take turns fucking the folds and sphincters and orifices that line the creature's body.

"Ah geez, Mr. W! Warn me before I fuck a hole with a gizzard stone!"

"Now THAT'S tight! I think my wife could learn a thing or two from you, Mr. Wormy!"

"And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why we used to call Chet the Two Pump Chump!"

-

As the party is winding down, the men are putting their clothes back on, saying their farewells and getting ready to part ways when the creature starts to heave and convulse.

"You okay, Mr. Wormy?"

Everyone looks on as the creature heaves one last time and a copious amount of murky amniotic fluid begins to pour from one of the creature's holes. The sphincter begins to crown and a human baby is deposited onto the carpet. It has an adult-sized head and the face looks exactly like the husband, goatee and all. It's not moving.

The husband nervously tugs his collar. One of his friends calls out, "Check please!"

The wife comes back from the kitchen holding a roll of Brawny paper towels, a playfully annoyed expression on her face.

It's not a good party if things don't get a little messy. Brawny's got you covered.

[fiveraccoonsinatrenchcoat]

Really Very Pretty

Eddie Munson x f!reader

Description: Eddie's best friend gets a bit too drunk and starts to run her mouth when he has to go save her.

Warnings: alcohol (reader is drunk through this whole thing), language.

Word Count: 1953

Read Part Two Here!

My Masterlist!

Eddie should have known better. He should have been able to clock it from a mile away, but you had insisted that you were going to have a good time.

He knew you well enough to know that this party was going to end badly.

He didn't even know which friend of a friend's birthday it actually was. He'd dropped you off in front of a house he'd never taken you to before, and thank god he saw Robin standing on the porch, because he was almost ready to lock the van doors and take you right back home. You were clearly anxious about the outing, but you had continuously brushed it off, citing nothing more than excitement as the reason for your shaky hands. Eddie had practically begged you to let him tag along and play guard dog, but he hadn't been invited and, with the exception of Robin and maybe one other, you didn't know any of these people very well. You didn't want to step on any toes by bringing a plus one that you didn't actually have.

Eddie wasn't entirely sure why he was so nervous for you. You were an adult, you could handle yourself. And besides, he had no obligation to keep you safe like that; you two had been friends for a long time, but bodyguard was typically a boyfriend role.

Right?

It was well into the night, nearing three o'clock in the morning, when Eddie's phone finally rang. He had told you to call him so he could pick you up. He trusted you to know better than to try and drive yourself after a few drinks, but he definitely didn't trust the people you were with to get you home either. He scrambled out from under his acoustic guitar to answer the phone.

"Hey! I expected you to call ,like, two hours ago, are you-"

"Eddie, it's me," he heard Robin say from the other end. That was odd. His stomach instantly became heavy with anxiety; was something wrong? Had something happened?

"Robin! Hi," he said, trying to control the slight shake in his voice. "Wasn't expecting your voice. What's up?"

"You need to come get your girlfriend," Robin stated. Eddie instantly felt heat creep up his neck and was very grateful that Robin wasn't able to hear the blush that had settled onto his cheeks.

"Robin. She's not my girlfriend. You know that."

"Yeah, whatever. Just come get her."

"Did something happen?" Eddie's embarrassment was quickly stubbed out by nervousness.

"Not really," Robin responded, though she didn't sound all that confident in her answer.

"What?" Eddie asked with frustration. He loved Robin, he really did, but she never quite had a way with words. "What does 'not really' mean?"

"She just got, like, way drunker than she wanted to, I think," Robin clarified. "And now she's hiding, and I think she's crying, and I don't know what to do! I know you dropped her off, and-"

"Fuck, alright, I'm on my way," Eddie cut her off. He hooked the phone back to the wall and dashed out to the van.

This kind of thing had happened before. It wasn't like you didn't know your boundaries when it came to this kind of stuff, it was more like you would often choose to ignore them. You'd always been able to hold your liquor (it was kind of impressive sometimes, actually) but your impulsive nature left you prone to having just a few drinks too many. Pair that with how weird you'd been all day leading up to the party, and Eddie cursed himself for leaving you all alone.

By the time Eddie pulled up to the house most of the party goers had left, and only a handful of stragglers remained. He walked in and found Robin quickly.

"She's in the bathroom upstairs," she said to him as he walked up to her. "She didn't do anything too embarrassing, thankfully, but she looked really upset when she ran off."

Eddie nodded to her and started up the staircase, going two steps at a time. Even with all the people who had come and gone all night, the house felt incredibly empty to him. The same cream colored walls and carpet felt ever present in all of these new-construction-suburban-paradise type houses and Eddie didn't like them one bit. Something about the faux sincerity of it all left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he wondered how anyone could find all of this coldness appealing. Maybe he was biased, seeing as he was only welcome in these houses when he was upcharging freshmen at their first high school house parties, but he could almost feel the structure itself silently judging him.

God, he really needed to get you out of here as quickly as possible.

It took a couple of guesses, but he did eventually find the bathroom door. He knocked, though the force of his knuckles against the wood pushed the unlatched door open just enough for him to be able to see you on the floor, with your back leaned against the sink and your knees pulled up close to you chest.

You definitely looked worse for the wear, that was for sure. Robin was right, you had been crying, and it left angry black streaks running down your face from your eye makeup. Eddie walked in carefully and gently shut the door behind before sitting down on the floor next to you. You didn't look up at him, and instead chose to keep your eyes firmly trained on the little springy door stopper attached to the wall.

"I didn't call you," you said with a pout.

"I know," Eddie said. "Robin did. asked me to come get you."

"I didn't call you on purpose," you reiterated. Your voice was gruff and strained. "I don't wanna see you."

That struck Eddie right in his chest, though he knew that it was most likely just the tequila talking. You were very drunk, and come morning, you two would be back to being best friends again.

"Why don't you wanna see me?" Eddie asked with the slightest smirk. Now that he knew you weren't hurt, he was able to find just the tiniest bit of amusement in the situation.

"Because you're mean to me," you grumbled. You burrowed yourself into a somehow even smaller ball and did your best to turn away from him, though you had little success.

"How am I mean to you?" Eddie asked. He definitely wasn't mean to you; he would do literally anything in his power to make you happy.

"Because you're too pretty and you're too nice to me," you said. Eddie was instantly hung up on the fact that you called him pretty. You were drunk, not thinking straight, so you probably didn't actually think he was pretty, Eddie reasoned to himself. He pushed the thought right out of his head and moved on.

"I'm nice to you," he questioned. "And that makes me mean?"

"You're too nice." You turned to look at him through droopy, half shut eyes. They were rimmed with red. "You're not 'friend' nice, you're 'more than a friend' nice, but I know you don't mean it, and it's mean."

There was a sharp bite in your voice and Eddie didn't know how to respond. Did 'more than a friend' nice mean that he was nicer than a friendly acquaintance, or did it mean that he was nice in the way two people who are more than friends would be with one another?

"Do you want me to be 'more than a friend' nice?" Eddie asked without thinking.

"Not if you don't mean it," you responded.

"But what if I did mean it?" All of Eddie's better judgment had been thrown out the window at this point. Maybe he was taking advantage of you inebriation, that you would give him the truth because of it, but in this moment all he could think about was the fact that he had been pining after you for months thinking it would never amount to anything. Now it might be amounting to something and he had, he just had, to know.

"You're making fun of me!" you said. You dropped your face into your arms.

"I'm not, really! I just," Eddie cut himself off with a sigh. You were drunk. Nothing he could say would really get through to you, and even if it were to, you weren't going to remember any of this in the morning. If he thought about it, maybe that was a good thing. "Look, let's just get you home, okay?"

You grumbled some in protest, but didn't try to wriggle out of Eddie's grasp as he led you down the stairs and out to the van. He got you settled in the passenger seat before getting into the driver's side and starting the car. He kept the music turned down low, knowing your head was most likely already pounding, and rolled down the front two windows.

The cool night air whipped through the cabin of the vehicle. You shut your eyes and turned your face towards it. It had been hot, so hot, in that house, and you seemed more than happy to be out in the cold autumn evening. Eddie lived much closer than you did, and he knew your parents would be less than thrilled about you staggering inside at three in the morning, so he elected to bring you back to his place. He could just sleep on the floor.

He helped you out of the car and inside. You struggled to toe off your shoes, though you eventually got them off and tossed them haphazardly against the door with a thud.

Once he got you standing on your own, he quickly realized just how drunk you actually were. You kept your eyes closed as you swayed into his bathroom and Eddie was worried that you'd fall and hit your head on the sink or something; The last thing he needed was to have to take you to the ER. He was already on thin ice with your parents as it was, and getting a call from the hospital in the middle of the night would absolutely cement their dislike for him. You hadn't thrown up or anything (at least, as far as he knew), so that was good, but Eddie knew you had definitely pushed yourself way too hard.

He wondered if you had been roped into some drinking game or something. Your competitive nature and poor impulse control made you much too good at them.

You'd been quiet since Eddie had lifted you up off the bathroom floor, but as you slumped down on top of his sheets, still in your jeans, you spoke up again.

"I'm sorry," you said, eyes closed.

"It's okay," Eddie reassured you. "I'm more than happy to come and save you whenever you need me to."

"And I mean what I said." You were muffled against his pillows, but Eddie still heard you.

"What, about me being mean to you?"

"No." You turned to face him and your big, watery eyes were enough to crush his heart. You sat back up and started to sway a bit. Eddie put a hand on you arm to keep you steady, and realized just how close the two of you were to each other. Your shoulders were turned inwards as you leaned in even closer, though he was sure it couldn't have been on purpose. "About you being pretty. You're really very pretty."

If you hadn't been completely plastered, Eddie would have kissed you right then and there.

[makeyoumine69]

Babe I LOVE your writing, and if your comfortable, Can you please write a little blurb about the reader digging her nails in Patrick's back,

im trying to think if he would like that he could make you feel good like this or hate it because your marking his beautiful skin.

Do you think he would push your hand off his back and tell you to take it or what???

Toxic

◥ PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

◥ SUMMARY: Everyone knows that Patrick Bateman is such a toxic guy, his blood is like a deadly poison. Once you taste it, you are lost.

◥ CONTAINS: oral (f), p in v, creampie, Patrick is in predator mode, pretty aggressive foreplay and some more :)

◥ WORDCOUNT: 1.6k

◥ SONG REC: Britney Spears - Toxic

◥ A/N: Britney's song suddenly inspired me so much that I couldn't stop myself from writing it, thank you sm for your request, I hope you like it! 🖤

◥ LINKS: [MASTERLIST] 🪓

You and Patrick were in the middle of a really serious fight, and the fact that you were stuck in his vacation house in Hampton was more than worrisome.

"I don't know why you're still trying to argue with me," Bateman blurted out, strolling around the large modern kitchen wearing nothing but tight gray pants. "You looked great yesterday."

"'Great'?" You almost choked on the air, crossing your arms over your chest. "So, in your opinion, looking great means looking like everyone else? Skimpy dresses, extremely high heels, red lipstick, stockings. Oh my God, Patrick! Why can't you just accept me for who I am?"

Patrick hummed and poured himself a glass of fresh orange juice, then took a quick sip; a small drop of liquid ran down his massive chest. "What do you mean?"

He seemed to be joking or mocking you on purpose, because your slightly irritated face only amused him.

"Stop trying to change me and -"

"Wait a second, honey," he cut you off pretty harshly, and in addiction, Bateman raised a finger in a warning gesture. "I can do whatever I want, you know why? Because I'm so fucking rich!"

"You don't own me, idiot!" You bellowed, instinctively closing the distance between the two of you. He did the same. "And I don't care about your money … you're so selfish and narcissistic that it's completely messed up your mind and you can't see anything good in people!"

You stood almost face to face, your lungs burning from your rapid breathing, while Bateman looked so calm and cold-blooded.

"You don't care about my money, but you always accepted all the gifts I gave you. How hilarious!" he almost spat the words right in your face, staring at you arrogantly until the vein under his eye became too noticeable. "If there's something you don't like - nobody's keeping you here. But since I'm very kind today, I'll give you a chance to apologize for this little accident."

Who knew what was in his head when he leaned down to kiss you, but he would surely regret it as you bit his lower lip hard, tasting his poisoned blood on the tip of your tongue.

"You fucking bitch!" He yelled, trying to catch you, but he was too slow from the aftershock of your action, so you managed to run away.

Scared, you rushed upstairs to the bedroom because you couldn't leave the house wearing just your underwear and his white shirt. God, your skin was literally burning from the expensive fabric of his shirt, so as soon as you got there, you took it off, forgetting to close the door. But to be fair, it was a pretty useless waste of time - he would open it or just break it, depending on how angry he was.

Panting nervously, you dashed to the bed and started to pick up your clothes when you heard his loud footsteps behind you. Time stopped for you as Patrick grabbed you roughly and pushed you onto the bed.

"No! N-no!" You struggled to slip away and climb further onto the bed, but he caught your ankles and pulled you to the edge of the bed with ease.

As soon as he rolled you onto your back, he grasped your neck and squeezed it painfully, pushing almost all the oxygen out of your chest. In response, you tried to claw at his hands, fighting back as hard as you could.

God, you thought you were going to die.

"What's wrong, honey? Not so brave anymore?" He nagged from above, settling down on the bed to press you even harder.

With a devilish grin, Bateman shook you several times, just to hear your miserable whimpering as he enjoyed the way you kept trying to push him off.

"E-enough, please." You trembled as you felt your strength running out.

"Jesus Christ, you're so pathetic and silly," he suddenly let you go, and you fell onto your back, breathing heavily. "What were you even thinking?"

It was definitely a rhetorical question, because the next moment Bateman was already pulling down your lace panties while you took a second to recover and continue struggling.

"Patrick, let me go! I don't want-mmm ..." You stammered as he dragged you even closer to the edge of the bed.

"You better shut up … unless you want me to test you on how long you can hold your breath."

Patrick quickly brushed off the drop of blood that formed at the corner of his lips before reaching down to spread your thighs and giving your blushing clit several flat licks. You squirmed almost immediately, feeling yourself so sinful and yet so damn good.

"P-Patrick," even if it wasn't a moan, it was enough for him to keep attacking your delicious little pussy as he sucked on your lower lips, one by one, until they both swelled. "God, e-enough!"

"Are you sure, sweetheart?" he looked at you, his chin glistening with your sweet flavor. "You're so fucking soaked, why am I not even surprised?"

Frowning, you stared back at him and asked cheekily: "Shouldn't your lip hurt?"

"Oh, don't worry," Patrick smiled smugly and fixed his messy hair. "I'm ready to ignore any pain for this lascivious tight pussy."

Holy shit.

The wild lust you just saw in his eyes was terrifying and exciting at the same time. Seizing the moment of your reverie, Bateman forced you to lift your legs so he could sink his strong tongue further into your hot cunt. And this time you couldn't keep a loud moan from escaping your tense chest as the pleasure coursed through your body like electricity.

And then, Bateman stopped unexpectedly, causing you to sigh in slight disappointment, but then you were very vocal all over again, especially when his red, leaking tip was poking at your dripping opening.

Patrick thrust into you so roughly, climbing on top of your tiny body, almost tearing you apart from the inside, and of course he did it on purpose as he reveled in all the pitiful reactions you were making.

"No way, girl," he pushed on your wide open hips, pinning you almost flat against the bed, pounding into you with shameless flesh-meeting-flesh sounds."Stop whining, I was kind hearted enough."

Oh God, his hips — they seemed to be made of steel, they were so rock hard, so strong; every push you felt with your whole body, with your every little pitch.

"Argh, fuck, you feel so good, baby… so tight and hot." He groaned, picking up the pace; his thick dick hitting your belly mercilessly.

Bateman seemed to be really crazy as he lowered down to your face once again, without any fear of getting a bite, and for a second you had the illusion that he was waiting for it, and that drove you really wild.

To his surprise, you moved towards him to take his bruised lip in your warm mouth to suck on his wound. It definitely itched, but Patrick just hissed through your passionate kiss as you both tried to take the lead, greedily devouring each other as if it was some kind of competition. Meanwhile, your trembling arms ran down his broad back, squeezing his strong muscles from time to time. The more you tugged on his lower lip, the more relentlessly he fucked you into the bed, pressing you down and holding you there with his huge, muscled body.

"Mmm, P-Patrick, aaaahh!" You moaned lustfully, feeling the salty taste of his blood on your lips.

Huffing, you cupped his tight ass with one hand while another was busy clawing at his soft skin. Inch by inch, your sharp nails dug deeper and deeper, leaving red lines across his back.

In reply, Bateman only began to fuck you harder, almost shifting into a mating press position, but that was still not enough for you. Slowly, you slid your hand from his butt up to his loin, sinking your nails into his skin again and again, leaving more and more scratches. His low, sexy groans almost made you fall apart right here right now, but you continued to paint red lines all over his body, using his skin as your canvas.

"Ahh, (Y/N) … you're mine to tame," he snarled and began to squat down, creasing you beneath him and burying his beefy girth as deep as he could. "Mmmh, did you already take your birth control pills?"

Both of you were breathing so heavily that the air around you seemed to be hotter than lava.

"Awww, y-yes … YES! I did," you looked into his dark eyes, full of savage passion. "Patrick…Patrick!"

Damn, his cock was so huge, you could feel every vein on it throbbing in ecstasy as he was so close to reaching his high. Instinctively, you lifted your legs higher, opening them even wider. The level of penetration was overwhelming, with each thrust he made, the mixture of your juices poured down on your heated bodies with a slick, obscene sound.

Growling gutturally, Patrick rammed into you several more times before you felt his grip on you tighten as he unloaded his warm seed inside your sore womb and that feeling, along with the way you played with your oversensitive little bud, left you no choice but to fall over the edge as you climaxed with a loud, long-drawn moan, shaking so vigorously in his arms that you almost hit your forehead against his as he bent down to kiss your temple, admiring the way you were sinking into the ocean of pure pleasure.

[luci4theminorannoyance]

how the 141 boys would propose:

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

a/n: hey everyone!! Sorry for not posting for two days- I got busy with end of semester work! And of course per usual my writing is gender neutral since I wrote this w/o a request

Gaz:

-he would wait till your anniversary when he has off duty, taking to you someplace calm and quiet like a cafe or a pretty sight like a lake

-THIS MAN LOVES BEING ROMANTIC. He literally dropped on one knee with the black ring box in his hand in a smooth (and most definitely rehearsed for hours) motion

-his hands were secretly shaking out of nervousness the whole time, even when you said yes and he only calmed down when you kissed him and pulled him to his feet

ghost:

-not planned at all, as soon as he got off from a very tiring and almost failed mission he dashed to you off the plane back home. Back where he was safe in your arms.

-dropped down to his knees in front of the whole airport, not caring who saw or what people thought

-as soon as you said yes he hugged you tightly, kissing with lip’s crashing against yours: the adrenaline from everything not yet leaving his body

Price:

-he had lived with you and been with you for quite a while before proposing, he truly wanted it to be as warm and Casual as possible.

-he proposed at a slow dance that was for a celebration for one of his completed missions, it wasn’t a large party and it was mostly the task-force as well as friends and such

-he stopped the music silently, pulling you slightly away from the dance floor and slipping the ring onto your finger and watching your eyes go wide in surprise

-for the rest of the party he was smiling like a child who just got a new gift, and nobody knew but you and of course laswell because she’s the one who walked him through it beforehand

soap:

-most casual out of all of them, a simple getting down on one knee and proposing to you at home. Where he’s safe. Where he truly can express his love for you in full.

-of course he planned it, he’s a demolition expert after all! Although price almost hit soap with a book when soap explained his original idea of proposing

-the idea of course being to ask you with one of those rental add planes…

[softshrimpy]

How To Woo A Hot Principal

Step 7: Fall Further in Love, Cause You're Gay

Summary: Working at the weathervane was exactly what you needed. The routine, the people, your co-workers. It certainly helped that a certain tall, blonde, fucking gorgeous woman happened to frequent the cafe. Now some may call hopelessly flirting with your customers inappropriate behavior.

But truly, when it came to Larissa Weems, who could blame you?

Guess whos no longer sicc! Anyway, enjoy soft central with a hint of plot building and a dash of foreshadowing. I hope you enjoy 🦐✨

Tags: @variant-2402@the-bagel24@eveymay@kimiinou@muffintopxs

(pls let me know if you want to be tagged/ I missed you!)

Chapter 6 Cross Posted on AO3 here

HTWAHP Masterlist

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were so comfy right now, holy shit. You were lying on a heavenly bed. Your head was resting on the softest, warmest pillow you had ever had the pleasure of laying your head upon. You snuggle your head closer freezing when you feel your pillow breathe.

Oh holy shit

You peek one eye open, lifting your head slightly. You’ve had your head resting on Larissa’s chest, your entire body resting atop hers with your legs intertwined. Her face is bare, the sunlight shining on the side of her face making her look even more ethereal than she usually does.

You grin up at her before gently extricating yourself from her limbs. You manage to get up without waking her and manage to keep yourself from tripping over your own feet. You pick up a shirt that was hanging over the chair at her vanity (she has a vanity, she’s so fancy), slipping it on before making your way to the kitchen.

She has a small kitchen attached to her rooms which you have to basically ransack to find mugs, coffee and hot chocolate. You finish making your drinks, humming to yourself softly. You’re halfway through the bedroom door when you notice Larissa sitting up, the covers bunched up around her, her head in her hands.

“Larissa?” You ask, rushing over to her.

“Oh shit fuck wait-“ you panic, nearly spilling your drink all over yourself.

She looks up at your, her eyes wet with unshed tears. She takes you in, doing your best to balance the mug you nearly dropped, dressed in her shirt, looking at her with so much concern.

You put the mugs on her bedside table, hovering over her nervously.

“Uhm I- is it okay if I touch you? Are you okay?” You ask.

“I- I’m sorry.” She laughs, wiping her eyes. “I just- you weren’t here when I woke up and-“

“Oh…oh gods I am so sorry.” You apologize, grabbing her hands. “I-I would never just leave you. You’re far too lovely for that.”

She smiles up at you, squeezing your hands before looking away.

“I must seem so silly, crying over something so trivial.” She whispers.

“I once cried when a cat looked at me and walked away.” You reply.

She laughs at that, pressing a kiss to your hand.

“I’m serious! It was a tabby and I did the whole pspspspsps and it just walked away! I was devastated.”

She snorts ducking her head and pulling you onto her lap. You squeak, bracing yourself by grabbing her shoulders. She presses a kiss to your neck, burying her face into it.

“Mmm you look absolutely delicious in my clothes.” She mumbles.

“I feel like you’re not taking my pain seriously here.” You hum, scratching at the base of her head.

“No no I’m listening darling…” she hums, pressing more kisses to your neck.

You tilt your head back, running your hand up her spine and humming.

“Are you feeling okay pretty lady?” You ask softly.

“Mmm..” she all but purrs into your neck.

“Do you want your coffee?”

“Mmm…”

“You know you have to remove your face from my neck to drink your coffee?”

She groans at that, pressing one last kiss to your neck before leaning back and reaching for her coffee. You two sit there, wrapped in each other (and Larissa’s soft comforter), sipping your coffee. It’s so domestic and soft and everything you’ve ever dreamed of.

Until you notice the fucking massive headache that you had been ignoring until now. You wince putting your coffee down and reaching up to rub your forehead.

“Are you okay darling?” She asks, reaching up to cup your face.

“Mm. Just a headache. I have no idea why thou- oh wait…” you murmur.

“Darling?”

“Ahhhh I forgot to take my drugs.”

“Your what now?”

“Oh no it’s not- I have prescription medication I have to take every morning otherwise I get all headachey and lightheaded.” You reassure her.

“Oh. Oh, that’s- darling I’m sorry I-“ she stammers.

“Nope. Shhhhhh. None of that,” you start, “nothing to apologize for. I regret absolutely nothing and would rather suffer a hundred headaches than not be here with you.”

“You’re sure you’ll be okay darling?” She blushes, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“Mhm, I’ll just take it easy today. I don’t have work anyway so it shouldn’t be a problem.” You hum.

“So I have my pretty barista all to myself today?” She purrs, pulling you flush against her.

“You are absolutely insatiable,” you giggle before rushing forward to kiss her.

——————-

“YOU ABSOLUTE LEGEND. YOU ACTUALLY SLE-“

You slap your hand over James’ mouth, mortified he would be so vocal about your sex life.

“Yes, okay calm down you fucking degenerate.” You hiss, smacking him.

“I’m so proud of you, you spunky little bottom.” He smirks. “And Tyler owes me 20 bucks.”

“You took a bet with Tyler about my sex life?”

“Yes. You know I’ll literally do anything for money.”

You sigh at him, shaking your head. The three of you are getting the cafe ready for Outreach day. You had been leaving Nevermore when Larissa mentioned it to you, explaining how the kids would work in the town for half the day as a way of “bettering normie-outcast relations.” She seemed really excited for it so you internally vowed to be the kindest fucker on the face of this planet.

You had been briefing the boys on how they needed to behave and how you would not hesitate to fuck them up if they were rude(they were both adamant they wouldn’t be and then made fun of you for making such an effort for your girlfriend), when in walked three kids in Nevermore uniforms. One of them, wearing super cool shades, made a beeline for you.

“Your Principal Weems girlfriend right?” She asked, stopping rather closely in front of you.

“Uhm well-“

“Trick question: I saw you leave her rooms the other day.” She grins. “I’m Yoko.”

“It’s- it’s great to meet you, Yoko,” you manage, doing your best to keep your face from burning. “Uh…You want me to show you how to use the fucked up coffee machine?”

“Sweet.” She nods.

You spend the next hour or so teaching Yoko how to make different kinds of coffee. She was surprisingly good at it and really quick to learn. She was also, much to your dismay, pretty good at making late art.

“You’re going to put me out of a job if you continue like this.” You joke.

“Maybe I will,” she deadpans, “maybe I’ll start a vampire cafe. We would put you out of business.”

“Damn Yoko. I thought we were bonding. I can’t believe you would betray me like this.” You cry, wiping away fake tears.

“Nah I’d hire you, you’re chill. You smell kinda like a vampire actually…” she trails off.

“I smell…like…a vampire?” You ask.

She sniffs you, making a face before poking your upper lip. “You don’t have fangs though…strange…”

“I uhh use vanilla deodorant?” You try.

“No…that’s not it…” she murmurs, “Weird…”

The two of you stand there, Yoko studying you and you feeling awkward as anything. She’s broken out of her investigation by two other students entering the cafe, one of them being Enid. The two catch Yoko's attention and, after saying goodbye to you, she runs off with the two of them. Before you can have an internal crisis about what Yoko was talking about Larissa walks in, looking radiant and ethereal as ever.

You lean against the counter, grinning at her in a way you can only assume made you look like a lovesick puppy due to the two “awws” you receive from behind you. You flip both of them the bird before Larissa arrives in front of you.

“Hi pretty lady.” You hum, smiling up at you.

“Hello darling,” she grins. “I’ll take one hot chocolate please.”

“For here or to go?”

“For here.” She hums, looking you up and down. “I don’t suppose you could join me?”

“I would literally love nothing more.” You grin, taking off your apron.

“Are you seriously going to make us make you and your girlfriend hot chocolate?” James scoffs earning a snort from Tyler.

“Isn’t that what you’re here for?” You joke, sliding into the booth across from Larissa.

You notice she’s sitting super straight, her shoulders tense. She’s fiddling with her fingers and she’s blushing bright red. You’re mentally trying to figure out why she looks so embarrassed when it finally clicks.

“Uhm Larissa?” You start. “I know we never really spoke about it. And I mean I probably should’ve brought it up before I just let people say stuff. And I mean you may not even want to be together that way and I shouldn’t have assumed-“

“Darling take a breath.” She soothes, reaching across the table to grab your hands mid wild gesture.

You do as she says, squeezing her hands.

“Sorry…I just really really like you. And I uhm. Would it be okay if- that is to say would you-“

She laughs, a sound that makes your heart race and you barely suppress the urge to swoon. She’s looking at you with such a soft look and her beautiful blue eyes.

“Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?” She smirks and god it’s so hot this is unfair.

“I- well. Yes.” You mumble.

“I would love nothing more darling.”

And just like that you are the happiest person in the world. You’re almost certain you giggle and blush like a goddamn schoolgirl. Tyler drops off your drinks, winking at you and raising his brows. You sit and chat for a bit when Mayor Walker enters. He chats with Larissa, essentially ignoring you and it pains you to see how much she has to suck up to him.

They chat for a while, you’re not paying that much attention. A few moments later Marylin enters, ordering herself something at the counter (probably her usual matcha latte) before making her way over to the three of you.

“Fancy seeing you here stranger.” She grins.

“Marylin! It’s so nice to see you again. How’s the greenhouse?” You ask.

“Really well actually! Not to toot my own horn but my nightshades are doing quite well for this time of year.”

The two of you chat for a while, Marylin laughing at your dry humour and resting her hand on your shoulder.

“Mayor Walker, this is Marylin Thornhill.” Larissa says, interrupting your conversation with the redhead and gesturing to the woman in question, “In the spirit of outreach, she's Nevermore's first normie teacher.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Marilyn smiles.

The four of you chat for a while, Larissa shooting Marylin a look every time she laughs at one of your jokes. Eventually, the mayor leaves to get ready for the ceremony and Marylin leaves to gather the students. You’re standing with Larissa at the door when she suddenly pulls you incredibly close and grips your chin between her sinfully long fingers.

“Darling, I have had such a wonderful time with you today,” she purrs.

You feel your face heat exponentially, feeling flustered by both her sultry tone and her proximity.

“Uhm uh no-no problem! I aim to please.”

“And what a good job you do of that, hm?”

You’re sure if you weren’t basically leaning against her you probably would’ve collapsed at her words. She’s honestly looking at you like she wants to eat you (which you are never opposed to). A group of students, led by Marylin pass by, the woman sending you a bright smile and a wave.

You half expect her to let you go, put some distance between the two of you. But to your utter delight, she decides to double down on her affection, pressing a kiss to your forehead and then your lips. You stare up at her, wide-eyed and so in love.

“What was that for?” You whisper.

“Am I not allowed to kiss my girlfriend just because?” She hums, pressing another kiss to your cheek.

“No! You totally can! I just- well with all the students around I just thought maybe you- I mean you have this image as like the principal and all-“ you explain, feeling warm all over.

“Well, I care far less about maintaining a reputation than I do about making sure you know exactly how I feel about you.” She grins.

“And perhaps ensuring no one gets any ideas about trying to seduce you.” She mumbles afterwards.

You giggle at that, stretching up to press a kiss to her cheek. You poke her nose gently, smirking up at her.

“Larissa Weems, do I detect jealousy in your tone?” You tease.

“I-I do not get jealous.” She huffs, her cheeks gaining a pink tinge.

“Sure you don’t,” you chuckle, “so I guess you wouldn’t mind me hanging out with Marylin during your fancy ceremony?”

“Absolutely not-“

“AHA!”

“…Perhaps you may have been the slightest bit correct in your assumption…” She sighs, blushing and looking anywhere but at you.

“Well, it’s a good thing I only have eyes for you then, isn’t it?”

She pauses for a moment, gaping down at you, but then she fucking beams, looking so fucking happy you wish you could freeze this moment and have her this happy for eternity.

“Mm, I don’t think anyone could ever be as stunning and goddamn enthralling as you. So I guess you’re stuck with me.” You finish, smiling dopily up at her.

“You really are delightful darling.” She hums “Whatever did I do to deserve you…”

“You’ll never believe it, you actually just existed.” You finish with a fake gasp. “Now go do your fancy ceremony, pretty lady.”

She snorts, pressing one last kiss to your lips before letting you go. She then saunters off towards the town square and you do shamelessly stare at her ass for as long as you can. You’re broken from your admittedly unholy thoughts by James slapping his hand onto your shoulder.

“Come on whore, let’s go watch your girlfriend's special ceremony.”

——————————

The statue exploded.

If you were honest, the statue was awfully ugly and it exploding wasn’t a terrible loss. But you would not express these thoughts to Larissa who was currently angrily looming over her fireplace.

When the explosion had happened you had freaked the fuck out before immediately searching for Larissa. She had, thank the gods, been unharmed by the explosion. You ran to check up on her, fussing over her as she assured you she was fine.

She had been, and there is really no better way to put this, absolutely fucking livid. You hadn’t understood why until you noticed Wednesday, sitting playing her cello while everyone else ran screaming.

So now, right after Larissa had spent a good 15 minutes yelling at the girl before she left, you decided voicing your opinion on the shittiness of the destroyed statue was not a good idea.

“This is an absolute disaster.” She murmurs.

“It’ll be okay. The statue-“

“This isn’t about the bloody statue!” She yells, whipping around to face you. “It’s about what this does to our reputation! All the work I’ve put in to make things better with the townspeople, with the normies, all of it destroyed because of one selfish brooding teenager!”

You flinch at her yelling, shrinking back into the couch a bit. She notices, freezing and shrinking a little into herself. She opens her mouth to speak before clearing her throat.

���I-I’m sorry. I…” she starts, turning back to face the fireplace. “Maybe it would be best if you went home for the night. You shouldn’t have to- you shouldn’t have to deal with me like this.”

You stand up at that, quickly walking over to her and gently coaxing her to turn around with your hands on her hips. When she finally faces you, she looks so ashamed. There are tears gathering in her gorgeous blue eyes and your heart cracks a little.

“You’re allowed to be upset honey.” You start, making sure to look her in the eye. “I will admit, the yelling scared me a little- but! But it’s okay because you’ve had a fucking awful afternoon. And I know how hard you’ve worked on getting the townspeople to be less stupid and bigoted towards you. You put in so much hard work and you are making a difference. And today was probably a setback, yes, but that doesn’t mean all your hard work goes away okay? You’re so incredible, Larissa. I can’t- I don’t know how to explain how inspiring you are with your passion and care for your students and this school.”

You notice her chin wobbling a bit as she swallows and wipes at her eyes to try stop the tears from falling. She’s terribly unsuccessful at it but you don’t mention that, reaching up to wipe her cheeks for her.

“So today was fucked. And that sucks. And if you want to cry or yell or scream, I’ll be here the whole time. But remember that you are amazing and a fucking genius. So tomorrow we can worry about the angry people and the mayor, and all that stuff. But tonight, I want you to feel all the awful feelings you’re having and then you’re going to come with me to bed and cuddle my brilliant ass all night long. Okay?”

She laughs, a watery sad sound that squeezes your heart. You lead her to the couch, sitting down and pulling her into your lap. She buries her head in your neck, her tears soaking into your skin. You hold her for a long while, letting her cry and curl into you. Every now and again she hiccups something between her sobs. You just sit with her, running your hand through her hair and pressing kisses to the crown of her head between reassurances.

Eventually, she runs out of tears, taking a shuddering breath as she sits up breathing deeply. She looks awfully small at this moment, her eyes red-rimmed and her face wet from her tears. You cup her cheek with your hand, pressing a kiss to her nose. She scrunches her nose cutely at the sensation and you resist the urge to coo at her.

“Shall we go to bed, my pretty lady?” You ask softly.

She nods, standing from your lap and helping you up. You walk her to her room, helping her take down her hair and wipe off her makeup. You do make corny jokes every now and again earning cute smiles and soft laughter from the blonde. When you’re both settled in her bed, you on your back with her laying on top of you (you don’t mention how the weight of her on you feels so comforting you want to cry about it.) she speaks.

“Thank you for- for everything, darling.” She whispers, nuzzling into your chest.

“It really was my pleasure hon. I would do it again in a heartbeat.” You whisper back, wrapping your arm around her waist. The two of you fall asleep that way, Larissa’s head on your chest, your arms wrapped around her, thinking of how absolutely in love you are with this woman.

[blazerratbluefire-blog]

This fiction is based on #alicedusstuff art piece of tiny Macaque being held in Wukong's hand. This is my fanfiction, so there are most likely errors. So enjoy!! And make sure to check out the art that alicedusstuff creates!

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

Macaque struggled to get out of Wukong's hand. But as much as he wiggled around, twisted and even bit his hand, Wukong wouldn't let go. It didn't help that Macaque was the size of a doll that could easily fit into Wukong's hand either. Soon Macaque was panting out of breath from his struggles. He silently groaned in his throat in frustration, he shouldn't have tried to make himself smaller to avoid Wukong's mad dash at him with the power he took from MK. The kid's magic was still unstable and young.

Macaque's tail flicked in unease and his glamored ears pinned back when he felt an unwavering gaze aimed at his body. He nervously glanced up and swallowed. Wukong's eyes were shadowed with an unfamiliar emotion behind them as his gaze didn't move from him.

"H-hey, bud! U-um, think you could let me go, Wukong?" Macaque asked nervously. He felt sweat gathering on his forehead the longer Wukong didn't answer him. If possible, Wukong's gaze became even more intense. Macaque shivered even though he was held in a very warm hand. He licked his lips nervously and gave a weak chuckle while gripping the hand that held him tighter.

"You wouldn't hurt me in front of the kid, would you?"

Macaque noticed that Wukong's tail was lashing side to side as his eyes began to gain a slight red hue to them. As Wukong brought him closer to his face, he began to panic and restarted his struggles more.

"Monkey King! I need help!" Cried out MK, currently stuck to the wall of rock by the staff.

Wukong cleared his eyes and pivot towards his student with a bright chirp of encouragement, while at the same time tucking Macaque behind his back still clutched in his hand.

"You can do it bud!" Monkey King encouraged with a bright smile.

MK stopped his struggles against the staff and gave Monkey King a deadpan stare.

"No I can't. Macaque stole my powers!"

"Well, I believe in you bud! You can get out of that yourself! Think of it as extra credit for two-timing me with another mentor."

MK chuckled nervously at that reminder. He was honestly hoping that Monkey King would have forgotten about that.

"But don't worry, I won't leave you alone." Monkey plucked a strand of fur out and blew on it. A golden glow soon surround the piece of fur and a clone came into existence. "This guy here will keep you company and safe from anything that might try to eat you."

"Eat me?!" Cried MK.

"See you in a bit bud!" Saluted Monkey King and he hopped onto his cloud and zipped away with his prize in his hand.

Macaque gave a chrip of surprise at the intense speeds as Wukong flew away on his cloud. The wind whipped through his fur and he pinned his ears back to avoid the harsh wind blowing against them.He dug his claws into Wukong's hand to make himself feel more grounded.

"Wukong! Slow down! Where are you taking me?!" Cried out Macaque.

Wukong didn't answer him, but he did tighten his hold over Macaque's body and pressed him closer to his chest.

After a while they arrived at their destination. Macaque started to make out the sounds of Flower Fruit Mountain and opened his eyes to look around. As Wukong slowed to a stop in front of his hut, he jumped off and made his way to the door of his hut. He walked through his door and closed it, then made his way to the kitchen table.

Macaque meanwhile was struggling as much as possible to get free of Wukong's hand. Macaque's back soon made impact with the surface of the table with his hands and feet pinned down with Wukong's hand.

Wukong hovered over Macaque's body with that same look as earlier. His tail was also once again lashing side to side.

"Drop them." Wukong demanded.

"Drop what?!" Macaque exclaimed, taken back from the vague demand.

"Your glamors. Drop them. Or I will remove them myself." Wukong again demanded with a darker look on his face.

"No!" Cried out Macaque, his own tail had begun to curl around his own leg nervously. He honestly had no idea how Wukong thought he was going to remove his glamors, but HE wasn't going to drop them himself.

"Fine, but I warned you Macaque." Wukong told him. He then leaned down closer to Macaque's body, once he was right over his head, he turned Macaque's head to the side and lightly brushed his fangs over his neck and shoulder.

Macaque was letting out distressed chirps when he felt Wukong's fangs on his neck and shoulder. In the middle of his chirp he let out a gasp and did a whole body shudder as he felt Wukong lick up the side of his head right over his ears!

"....DID YOU JUST FUCKING LICK ME?!" Macaque yelled out to Wukong, his entire face red and tail lashing side to side.

Wukong just smirked down at him, pleased that Macaque was so ruffled and blushing.

"Yup! And if you don't want me to lick. Every. Single. Inch. Of your body, you'll drop your glamors." Wukong continued to smirk, waiting to see what Macaque's reply would be.

"You...W-what? B-but, i-i.....F-fine! I'll drop them! J-just stop slobbering on me!" Macaque stuttered out, fur puffed out, his tail lashing and curling while trying to mentally get his footing back. He took a deep breath and released his magic, letting his six ears on display and the scar going over his right blind eye being shown.

Wukong cooed in delight once the glamors dropped. Bring his free hand to Macaque's ears and gently petting the ears in just the right way to make Macaque go limp against the table.

"There's my pretty Moonlight. Don't worry, I'll take care of you." Cooed Wukong, while keeping up the petting to make sure that Macaque stayed docile. "Now, where did I put that bottle?"

Fin

[one-piece-aus]

I am a hoe for Katakuri, so if you write for him, could I have Kata rescuing an s/o who'd been captured by another pirate crew? 😁

Oh boy is this long overdue. Ahoy Doe, I finally finished this request! I hope you don't mind me using the scenario for Whumptober, and please enjoy the story ^-^

Whumptober Day 28

Katakuri x Reader

"What do you mean [Y/n]'s gone?"

The guards paled as a heavy aura from Katakuri engulfed them. They haven't even had the chance to inform him about the situation, yet his fury is emitting and leaving the servants terrified under his gaze. His brows narrowed when he received no response, he reached down and picked up one of the servants.

"Who took [Y/n]?" Katakuri inquired, his voice hinting at his intention of seeking vengeance. However, he never let the servant speak and dropped him when he got his answer. "Gather a fleet, I'm going to save [Y/n], and we're going to erase those pirates."

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

You kept your glare on the pirates outside your cage, wishing you could burn holes through their skulls. They were snickering amongst themselves over a game of cards, telling themselves what a good idea it was to take you hostage for ransom. They really don't know the forces they were messing with, do they? You weren't able to point out their mistake yet when one of their men open the cabin's door.

"Captain, there's a small ship in the distance," he reported as he held the door wide open.

"Seems like your buyers are here," the captain smirked at you.

"You're fools if you think Big Mom would pay you your demands," you stated. The man laughed in response, only stopping when he looked back at your glaring eyes. 

"That's what you believe," he grinned crouching down in front of your cage. "But we're going to be the ones rolling in gold."

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

"Uh captain," the lookout nervously called down to the deck.

"What is it now?" The man questioned with annoyance growling in his tone.

"It's a fleet of ships- a fleet of ships from Big Mom!" The subordinate warned, pointing toward the rear of the ship.

The captain dropped the heavy sack he carried and dashed to the back of the ship. Sure enough, the massive fleet was tailing them, and the small ship had already left. He growled and gripped the rail as his gaze landed on the sweet general leading the army, Katakuri.

Having the enemy in sight, Katakuri turned his head to address the crew. "Don't fire cannons just yet, I want [Y/n] safe in my possession first. Kill the enemies who resist and hold the others hostage, wait for my order to eliminate them," Katakuri instructed, receiving salutes in response. Looking back at the tiny vessel, he gripped his fist. "Just hang in there, [Y/n]. I'll make them pay!'

Ringing his arm behind his head, Katakuri threw the first attack, extending his mochi arm and taking out the enemy's mast. They slowed down while their sails sunk to the bottom of the ocean, letting the fleet surround them and board. The events turned into a massacre rather than a fight as the Charlottes painted the deck in blood, Katakuri dealing out the brutal fatalities to each pirate he faced.

Heading down to the cabins, Katakuri tore anything that stood in his way of getting to you. Heads, doors, planks, they were all scattered in his search. Reaching the end of the hall and tearing open the last door, Katakuri found himself in a room full of chests and cages, and in the corner stood the enemy captain, frozen in place. Katakuri's eyes glowed red and he sent a punch at the man, immobilizing him in mochi.

"Where's [Y/n]?" Katakuri demanded the whereabouts.

The captain gave him a smirk and a glow from Katakuri's eyes made him step back. The Charlotte glanced at the empty cage with a torn piece of your sleeve left behind. With widened eyes, he ran out of the room and onto the deck. Going to the front of the ship, trying to find any traces of the small ship, Katakuri could only see his family's ships on the horizon as the unspoken words of the pirate taunted his mind.

"I already sold her off."

[indigomarina]

Hazbin Oc x Canon Week: Day 2 - Date Night (FrostedApple)

For @hazbinocxcanon

Glacia/Gloria is from this if you want to see more of her. Lucifer is pacing back and forth in his chambers, running his hands through his hair nervously. He keeps glancing at his reflection in the mirror, rehearsing different lines. "Come on, Lucifer, you can do this. She's just a woman." Lucifer said, anxiously. "A gorgeous, enchanting, incredible woman. But still, just a woman!" He shakes his head, letting out a deep breath. "Okay, let's try this again." He clears his throat, "Gloria, my darling snow angel, would you do me the extraordinary honor of accompanying me on a romantic rendezvous?" he asked. He grimaces, smacking his forehead. "Too formal, too stuffy. She'll think I'm being a pretentious prick." Lucifer starts pacing once more, trying to loosen up his body language. "Hey Glori, you, me, candlelit dinner, some wine, maybe a little dancing after? Whaddya say, babe?" He immediately winces, shaking his head vehemently. "No, no, no! She'll think I'm some sleazy dirtbag trying to get into her pants! Damn it, Lucifer, get it together!" Lucifer takes a few calming breaths, his hands on his hips as he stares at himself in the mirror. Finally, he nods, a look of determination on his face. "Okay. Here we go. Simple, sincere, from the heart." He straightens his posture and plasters on his most charming smile as he practices the line. "Gloria, I was hoping you might join me for dinner tonight. Just the two of us, on a… on a date." Lucifer said. This time, he nodded, feeling more confident. "Yes, that's it. Clear, direct, no room for misinterpretation. She'll know exactly what I'm asking." With one last deep breath, Lucifer heads out of his chambers in search of Glacia, his heart pounding with anticipation. Some time later, Lucifer finds Glacia in the hotel's garden, tending to the frost-covered flowers. He takes a moment to admire her, then gathers his courage and approaches her. "Gloria, c-can I have a moment?" Lucifer asked. Glacia turned to face him, "Of course, Luci. What's on your mind?" Glacia asked with a friendly smile. Lucifer took her hand in his, "Glacia, I was hoping you might join me for dinner tonight. Just the two of us, on a… on a date." Glacia's eyes widen slightly, and a soft blush creeps onto her cheeks. For a moment, Lucifer fears he's overstepped, but then she smiles, squeezing his hand. "Yes, Luci. I would love to go on a date with you." Glacia accepted. Lucifer feels like his heart might burst with joy. "Oh-oh really? You do?!" he asked, hoping this wasn't a trick.

Glacia nodded, revealing it wasn't.

"Th-that's great!" he said happily. "Guess I've pick you up later?"

Glacia nodded, "Sure!" "Great! See you..tonight!" Lucifer said. He sped off, bumping into a wall, making Glacia gasp before he rose up, showing he was okay. Later Lucifer paces nervously in front of the hotel, fiddling with his bowtie. He's dressed to the nines in a dapper black suit, red vest, and shiny dress shoes. A bouquet of icy blue roses is clutched in his sweaty hand. "Okay, you've got this. It's just a date. With the most beautiful demoness in all the realms. No pressure." Lucifer muttered to himself, he tugs at his collar, "Ugh, why is it so hot out here?" Just then, the hotel doors open and Glacia steps out. Lucifer's jaw drops, the roses tumbling from his slack grip. Glacia is a vision in a sleek, off-the-shoulder gown the color of a winter sky. It clings to her curves like a second skin, the slit up the side revealing tantalizing glimpses of smooth pale leg. Her hair is swept up in an elegant twist, tendrils framing her face. "Gloria…you look…I mean…wow." Lucifer exclaimed. "Thank you, Luci." Glacia said blushing, smiling shyly. She takes in his dashing appearance. "You clean up quite nicely yourself~" Lucifer scrambles to retrieve the fallen bouquet, thrusting it towards Glacia with a nervous grin. "For you, snow angel. Though they pale in comparison to your beauty." he said sheepishly.

Lucifer offers her his arm, and they set off on their date. He takes her to a beautiful ice sculpture garden, where they walk hand in hand, admiring the intricate designs.

Lucifer points out a sculpture, "Look, Gloria! That one looks just like you, wifey, a perfect snow angel."

"Oh, Luci, you're too sweet." Glacia said, laughing.

Next, Lucifer takes Glacia to a fancy restaurant, where he has reserved the best table. They enjoy a delicious meal, talking and laughing, lost in each other's company.

Lucifer raises his glass, "A toast, to the most beautiful and enchanting woman in all of Hell."

"And to the most charming and attentive date a girl could ask for." Glacia said, clinking her glass against his.

After dinner, Lucifer surprises Glacia with tickets to a live performance of her favorite musical. They sit close together, holding hands, as they watch the show.

"Luci, this is incredible. Thank you so much." Glacia whispered.

"Anything for you, my snow angel." Lucifer whispered, squeezing her hand.

As the date comes to an end, Lucifer walks Glacia back to her door. They stand facing each other, both reluctant to say goodnight.

"Gloria, I had an amazing time with you today. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did." Lucifer said.

"It was perfect, Luci. The best date I've ever been on." Glacia said.

Glacia leans down slightly and gently kisses Lucifer on the cheek. Lucifer's eyes widen, and a goofy grin spreads across his face.

"I… I'm so glad you had a good time." Lucifer said, touching his cheek where she kissed him.

"Goodnight, my king. Sweet dreams~" Glacia whispered in his ear before going inside her room.

As Glacia closes the door, Lucifer stands there for a moment, his heart soaring with joy. He pumps his fist in the air, doing a little victory dance.

"Yes! She kissed me! On the cheek, but still! Best. Date. Ever!" Lucifer exclaimed excitedly to himself.

Lucifer practically skips away, already planning their next date in his head, determined to make each one better than the last, until he finally wins Glacia's heart completely.

[starriluvs]

Absolute Chaos

———————————

Prompt: Just imagine Y/N, Shidou, and Rin being a chaotic trio after all joining PxG

———————————

‘So..’

The words from your mouth trailed off quickly. Awkwardly standing, you looked between the two with an impending sigh.

Backs facing the other, you felt as though you could cut the tension with a knife. With Shidou cockily folding his arms, and Rin begrudgingly putting a hand on his hip- a scowl on both their faces.

You knew the two didnt exactly have good history. But for the situation to be so bad, that Shidou was keeping quiet?

You felt as though you’d just stepped onto a landmine.

There was only one way to fix this.

An obscure, out of pocket animal fact. Your unhinged specialty.

You gulped nervously, and then, you said it.

‘Did you guys know female kangaroos have three vaginas?’

You hoped the silence after was a good thing.

————————————-

You ended up getting chased around the field. Turns out Rin did not like hearing that.

And Shidou probably just wanted a reason to beat you up.

Thankfully, you were miraculously saved by Loki’s perfect timing. His casual, nonchalant expression morphing to that of bewilder as you ran and yelled for your life.

‘Atleast they can run..’ Loki thought as he sweat-dropped.

————————————-

Youd quickly forgotten about your near death experience when you’d reached the dorms. The beautiful single bed seemed to be calling for you.

(Unlike the clinically opposite of sturdy bunkbed on the other side of the room.)

The three of you cast side-glances at each other, making communication with your eyes.

You hoped your gaze conveyed your message of, ‘that bed is mine.’ Seems you were successful, as Shidou’s pink irises cast a narrowed look your way that said, ‘to hell with that.’

No doubt he’d offer to fight you for it. Well, it’d be less of an offer and more of an obligation.

Rin turned his head to the both of you, with a hardened expression that said, ‘that. bed. is. mine.’

And after a few moments of silence, knowing you all desired that beautiful bed, you steeled yourself.

And then, you did it.

You quickly ran forward, stunning the two behind you. You were planning to jump on the bed upon reach, and childishly yell out ‘dibs!’. A universal code that, in polite words meant ‘mine, mine, mine!’.

Sadly, Shidou seemed to get the message.

He dashed, and grabbed your ankle with a prideful laugh. You dramatically outstretched your arm. ‘No!’ You cried out, mourning the loss of something that was just out of reach.

The blonde cackled more at this- like a witch, you thought. ‘That bed’s all mine now!’ He grinned, ready to get up.

But before you knew it, you both heard the familiar ‘thud!’ of a weight against the plush mattress.

‘You lukewarm idiots.’

Rin’s voice called out casually. He sat at the edge of the bed, staring the both of you down with his legs crossed.

But though his voice was neutral as always, you thought you heard the slightest tint of pride in it.

Your face morphed into a disappointed deadpan, while Shidou’s took on a challenging look.

‘Huh?! As if i’d let you-‘

‘Get off the floor, both of you.’ Rin cut off Shidous line of speech. ‘For the record, you look like immature children.’

You couldnt help but laugh at the hypocrisy of that. (Even if you and Shidou were both laying on the floor and probably looking stupid as hell.)

‘Says the youngest one here!’ You remarked.

‘Yeah!’ Shidou snarked in agreement.

‘Whatever.’ Rin scoffed, crossing his legs. He gave you both a look of slight pride and arrogance. ‘Doesnt change the fact the bed’s still mine.’

You and the blonde both grumbled in sync.

———————————————

A few days after your begrudging arrangement, and it had all gone to Rin’s plan. He got the single, whilst you got the top, and Shidou got the bottom bunk.

Now, talking with Chigiri, you came to a realisation.

After explaining the incident that had happened, and complaining about it, he’d said.

‘Why not just rotate who gets the bed then?’ The boy had stated, as if it was the most simple thing in the world.

You paused, deadpanning.

‘Shit. Together, we really are stupid.’

_____________________________

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

Wrapped Around My Finger

Fandom: American Actor, Elvis Presley Musician, Elvis Movie RPF, RPF

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Female Reader

Characters: Elvis Presley, Female Reader, Lisa Marie Presley, Priscilla Presley, Vernon Presley, Dee Presley, Jesse Presley, Baby

Word Count: 3492 // Rating: Teen & Up

Summary: Reader has some news that will bring some changes to Graceland

Tags/ Warnings: Babies, Pregnancies, Pregnancy Announcements, Christmas, Christmas at Graceland, Graceland, Step Parents, Reader and Cilla are good friends, Co-Parenting, Insecurities, Kissing, Hugs, Fluff, Worries, Established Relationship, Marriage, Married Couple, Mentions of Illness, Baby Presley, We’re In Big Daddy Elvis territory, Or DILF era

Notes: im clinging onto christmas and the idea that Cilla and a new wife would be besties lol

‘‘Daddy no!’ Lisa squealed as Elvis held her doll above her head. She jumped, reaching for it as Elvis chuckled, holding it just out of reach. He lowered it a little, allowing her to have a hint of hope before he pulled it back dashing her chances.

‘Oh stop being mean,’ Priscilla said with a giggle. Elvis made an exaggerated roll of his eyes before he put the doll within her reach and allowed Lisa to grab it out of his hands. As soon as she did he enveloped his arms around her pulling her towards him and kissing her cheeks as he tickled her. ‘Daddy!’ she giggled struggling to get away.

I watched them from the doorway, a smile on my face. It was the day after Christmas and while our holiday had been filled with family and friends it was now only a few of us. A fact I was happy for. I loved Christmas at Graceland, truly, but it was exhausting. From the moment we woke up to the moment we went to sleep it was all systems go and that was on a normal holiday. This year was a little different, not that anyone knew that yet. No, at the moment it was just me fatigued and plagued by the secret I was keeping from view.

A secret which meant that as I watched them I could feel my heart hammering a little in my chest and tears prick at my eyes. I moved away from the living room, heading into the kitchen to get a soda from the fridge as I tried to calm myself down. Though as I shut the fridge door I heard a cough from beside me which almost made me jump out of my skin, standing there, watching me closely was Priscilla.

‘Jeez, Cilla you scared the crap outta me!’ I said holding my chest. ‘Sorry,’ she giggled, ‘just came to check you were alright.’ ‘I’m fine,’ I lied. ‘Are you sure?’ she asked, raising an eyebrow, ‘because you seem lost in your thoughts today…and I couldn’t help but notice that you’ve not touched a drop of champagne all day.’ ‘You clocked that huh?’ I said with a sigh as I rested against the counter. ‘You forget in a house full of guys that women notice more,’ she chuckled, coming to stand beside me. ‘Yeah,’ I said nervously, my hand instinctively resting on my stomach. ‘So…how long?’ she said. ‘I don’t know,’ I said, biting my lip, ‘we’ve been so busy I’ve not really paid much attention.’ ‘Are you excited?’ she said. I looked at her, peering into her kind eyes as they looked back at me with no expectation just awaiting my answer. ‘Honestly? I don’t know,’ I said. ‘How come?’ ‘Our life?’ I smirked, ‘he’s done this before and I’ve not? I mean what if we have this baby and he-‘

I paused, realizing the words I was going to say were harsher than I intended them to be. He had done this before and whilst he loved Lisa and Priscilla it hadn’t been enough to keep them together. What if I was destined to be the next ex-wife? Our future Christmases split between three families instead of the two they were already?

‘He loses all interest?’ Priscilla said. I dropped my gaze shyly, ‘honey we didn’t split up because we had kids.’ ‘I know that,’ I said. ‘So you know having Lisa wasn’t some horrible thing. He just wasn’t ready,’ she said softly. ‘That’s what I’m scared of. What if he’s never ready? What if he decides we’re not what he wants either?’ ‘I can’t speak for him. But he’s a good dad to Lisa. And on the whole, he’s a good man. In fact, he’s better than he was. You make him better.’ ‘Cilla,’ I said quietly, feeling my cheeks getting warmer. ‘I mean it. He’s different with you. He’s a better husband. Like this time was meant to be.’ ‘But didn’t you think that?’ I asked, biting my lip. She smiled softly. ‘Yeah, but we thought a lot of things. You never know what’s gonna happen before it does. I can’t promise this will work out but I can tell you it’s better than before. For all of us. I mean not many women want to hang out with their husband’s new wife,’ she chuckled, ‘and even if we weren’t friends I wouldn’t be able to fault the way you are with Lisa. You’re so important to her.’ ‘She’s a credit to the pair of you,’ I said with a smile. ‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘but you’re just as involved… so I don’t know why you’re worrying. You’re already a mother. Have been for a while.’ ‘I assume you mean Lisa but with Elvis and the boys I can’t be too sure,’ I smiled. Priscilla chuckled and threw her arm around me, ‘you’re right. You’ve been parenting twenty grown men for a good few years now you’re sure to be an old hat.’ ‘Speaking of its awful quiet in there should we be worried?’ I said pulling out of her grasp and heading to the door with her trailing behind, ‘oh definitely.’

When we came back into the living room fortunately not much had changed. Elvis was sitting on the floor with Lisa in between his legs, laying against him looking distinctly more tired than before as she twirled her hair between her fingers. They were watching TV now, all quiet and observant. Priscilla slipped into the armchair by the door whilst I sat down behind Elvis on the sofa, smiling as he placed his hand on my knee. We stayed like that for a couple more hours, the evening accepting its natural plateau as the past couple of days started catching up on us all.

‘Gosh,’ Priscilla said with a yawn, ‘I think it’s time to hit the hay.’ ‘Yeah you might be right,’ Vernon said, shuffling out of his seat. Elvis manoeuvred Lisa, who was now asleep, onto my lap for a moment whilst he stood and saw his Daddy and Dee out. When he returned Lisa stirred. ‘Come on baby,’ Priscilla said, coming to lean down in front of me, ‘time for bed.’ ‘I’ll give you a hand,’ Elvis said, picking her up and popping her on his hip. ‘It’s okay. I got her,’ she said, throwing me a look. I dropped my gaze to my lap. ‘You sure? She ain’t as light as she used to be,’ Elvis chuckled shuffling Lisa into her arms. Priscilla buckled a little under Lisa’s weight but she smiled through it. ‘Let him take her up,’ I said, ‘you’ll do yourself a mischief.’

Priscilla nodded and allowed Elvis to take her back into his arms and I watched as the pair of them headed to the staircase. As he disappeared up the stairs Priscilla threw me another ‘tell him’ look and I nodded. Once everyone was gone I tidied away some of the plates and glasses that littered the surfaces of the room. I straightened up the couch and grabbed the box of three pregnancy tests I had stashed in my purse just as he was coming down the stairs. I sat back down on the sofa, acting as casually as I could, as he came into the room and sat down beside me.

‘She go down alright?’ I asked as he settled beside me, placing his hand on my thigh. ‘Fine,’ he smiled, ‘all tuckered out.’ ‘Yeah from all your teasin’,’ I giggled. ‘Hey it’s like a right of passage as a dad,’ he chuckled leaning in to place a kiss on my cheek, ‘are you okay?’ ‘Fine,’ I said with a small smile. ‘You sure?’ he asked, raising an eyebrow, ‘because I don’t know if it’s my imagination but you and Cilla seemed het up about something.’ ‘It’s nothing,’ I said, making his eyes narrow, ‘it’s…girl stuff.’ ‘Should I be worried?’ he chuckled, squeezing my thigh. ‘Nah, we were just comparing notes,’ I said giggling as he leaned in and kissed me, moving his lips down my neck. ‘Oh yeah?’ he smirked. ‘Yeah, I’m a lot more complimentary by the way,’ I giggled. ‘Good to know,’ he chuckled, pulling away. I sighed and looked at his adoring blue eyes.

‘You sure you’re okay?’ he asked. ‘Yeah…it’s just complicated, ‘I said. ‘Well whatever it is we can figure it out,’ he said, placing his thumb and forefinger on my chin and tilting my face towards him. ‘I have something to tell you,’ I said, pulling back and biting my lip. He didn’t say anything, instead, he just peered at me with those gorgeous baby blue eyes as if he was waiting for me to continue, ‘oh God I don’t know how to say this.’ ‘Doll you’re kinda scaring me,’ he said with a furrow in his brow. ‘It’s nothing bad,’ I said quickly, ‘well at least I hope it’s not.’

As he looked at me perplexed I shuffled so I could pull the box of tests out from under me. I passed it to him and he took it, eyeing the plain box curiously for a moment before he unlatched the end and tipped the contents into his hand. Three white plastic sticks fell into his large palm and I watched as his face went from confused to a beaming smile as he clocked the two lines on each of them.

‘Doll,’ he said in barely more than a breath. He looked at me as if waiting for me to confirm which I did with a tiny nod. Then he dropped the sticks into his lap and pulled me in for a bear hug, pressing me against his warm body for a moment before he leant down to kiss me. When he pulled away I spoke.

‘Are you okay with this?’ I asked, biting the inside of my cheek. ‘Darlin’ I’m thrilled!’ ‘You’re sure?’ I said the nerves from before were still bouncing around in my mind. ‘Why wouldn’t I be? Hell, is this what you’ve been chatting about with Cilla?’ he asked. I nodded trying to ignore the hurt behind his eyes as I did. ‘I didn’t mean to,’ I said, biting my lip, ‘she just sorta noticed I wasn’t myself and put two and two together.’ ‘Not yourself? Wait, were you scared to tell me?’ he asked. ‘No! Not scared, just a little… nervous,’ I said truthfully. ‘Why? Honey this is the best Christmas present I could’ve got,’ he smiled. ‘I guess I was just worried,’ I said meekly, ‘I mean you’ve done this before.’ ‘That doesn’t make it any less special,’ he said. ‘I know I guess I was just worried…you’ve told me how much having Lisa changed everything,’ I admitted. ‘And you think that’s gonna happen to us?’ he asked. ‘No,’ I said quickly before I dropped my gaze and said, ‘maybe.’

‘I won’t pretend that having Lisa didn’t change our marriage but it didn’t make it worse. And I’m happy I have her,’ he said, earning a nod from me in return, ‘I just…I wasn’t ready. For any of it. I was happy with Cilla as it was but then people started getting preoccupied with how it looked. More than how we felt about it, so, we got married and Lisa came along and it just spiralled into something I hadn’t planned for. I wasn’t ready for that. In fact, I only knew I was ready when…well the day I met you.’ ‘E,’ I said shyly. ‘I mean it,’ he said, holding my hand to his lips and kissing my knuckles gently, ‘I was just off the back of a divorce. I didn’t know how I was gonna handle my half of raisin’ Lisa and then you come along. Perfect and just what I needed. I told Joe the day we met I was gonna marry ya.’ ‘He tell you you were crazy?’ I giggled. ‘Amongst other things,’ Elvis smiled, ‘I was right though.’ ‘And babies?’ I said quietly. ‘I figured we’d head down that road at some point,’ he shrugged, ‘you’re already such a good mama I thought it was inevitable.’ ‘I guess we’ve just been content with how life’s been going recently, we’ve not had to think about it,’ I said. ‘And now we have? Are you excited?’ he said, watching me closely. ‘Yeah I think I am,’ I said. He smiled and placed his hand on my belly.

‘I am too,’ he said quietly before adding, ‘I can’t believe there’s a baby in there.’ ‘Me either,’ I sighed happily. ‘Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?’ he said excitedly, his eyes lighting up as he looked at me. ‘I don’t know. I guess I don’t mind either way. I love Lisa, I do, I guess this one just feels a little different you know. Like it’s our first,’ I said. ‘I know what you mean,’ he smiled, ‘I think I’d like a boy.’ ‘Oh yeah?’ I giggled as he pulled me into him, his arm slipping around my waist as we snuggled together watching the fire crackle in front of us. ‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘I mean I know I got the guys but let’s face it I’m drowning in women here.’ ‘You and your daddy are outnumbered,’ I smiled. ‘Yeah you gotta give me a boy,’ he smirked, ‘even the playing field. Or at least someone who can’t wrap me around their little finger.’ ‘You wouldn’t have it any other way,’ I giggled, placing my hand on his chest. He took a hold of it but didn’t move it off so I could feel his heart beating underneath my palm, his warm hand over mine. ‘Not at all,’ he sighed.

✵✵✵

‘I get to open it!’ Lisa squealed, running to the present in front of her Daddy. ‘Hey, you’ve got your own. This is for Jess,’ Elvis said. ‘Daddy Jesse can’t open his presents yet,’ she said, rolling her eyes. I chuckled to myself as I watched her, determined not to go without opening her brother’s presents. She sat in front of the neatly wrapped present, Elvis on its other side watching her as if in a standoff. ‘Well what if I wanna open it for him,’ he challenged, making her pout as she geared up to retaliate. ‘I think Jess would love it if his big sister open his presents for him,’ I said looking at the baby beside me in his bouncy chair who seemed unphased by this family squabble. She smiled at me and then stuck her tongue out at her Daddy before she started tearing the wrapping paper off. Elvis rolled his eyes and looked at me mouthing, ‘push over.’

I smiled back at him and then I went back to watching Lisa tear her way through the present. Maybe I was a bit of a pushover. Maybe he was just a big kid.

‘What is it Lis?’ I asked, peering at the box she was holding up. ‘A walker,’ she said, showing me and then showing Jesse who ogled his big sister with a one-toothed grin. ‘Who’s it off?’ Elvis said, fishing the tag out of the pile of wrapping, ‘Dodger.’ ‘Well I’m sure he’ll love it,’ I said as Lisa placed it down in front of his bounce chair and moved to open another one of his. We stayed like that for another twenty minutes or so. We’d all opened our presents and then realised there were several parcels left under the tree which, much to Lisa’s disappointment, belonged to her baby brother.

Once everything was unwrapped I started collecting bits of paper for a trash bag whilst Lisa and Elvis started putting together some of her toys. She played for all of five minutes and then I felt her come up beside me, her arms wrapping around my hips as she waited for my attention to fall on her 

‘Yeah, baby?’ I asked looking down on her.

‘Can I call mama yet?’ she asked with pleading eyes. I glanced at Elvis and found him looking at me too, with glee that he didn’t have to be the party pooper. Priscilla wasn’t here for Christmas this year. Her mother had taken ill and she hadn’t wanted Lisa to have to spend the holiday away from us and her new baby brother so had sent her to us alone. ‘Not yet it’s only,’ I said checking my watch, ‘six thirty. Your mama won’t be up for at least another hour or so.’ ‘Yeah buttonhead, your mama is on west coast time remember,’ Elvis said watching her fallen face. ‘How about you take your toys upstairs, we’ll have some breakfast and then we’ll give your mama a call?’ I said stroking her hair gently. Though she seemed disappointed she smiled and nodded before she dropped her arms from around me and grabbed her things so she could head upstairs. I watched her go with a sad smile.

Then Jesse started to fuss so I sat down beside him, leaning over and unlatching him from his bouncy chair so I could cuddle him to me. He settled almost immediately, seemingly just feeling left out of the action.

‘Ah, you’re just feeling left out huh bud? How about we get you that new teething ring?’ I said fishing around on the floor for one of his discarded presents. I pulled it out of the packaging and held it up to him, allowing him to take it in his chubby little fist. I pressed a kiss to his forehead as he took it off me, immediately sticking it in his mouth. When I looked up Elvis was watching me with a small smile.

'What?’ I asked bashfully. 'Nuthin’,’ he smiled, 'you’re a good mom you know that right?’ 'Why because I remembered to buy him something to chew on instead of letting him chew on Lisa’s doll heads again?’ I giggled making Elvis laugh. He moved closer to me, so he was sitting inches from me, as he stroked Jesse’s cheek gently. 'I mean it,’ he said looking into my eyes, 'the way you handled Lisa just then. The way you are with Jess. You’re amazing.’ 'You’re pretty good yourself handsome,’ I said with a smile before it faded a little. Elvis noted the change in my face and frowned, 'what is it?’ 'Nothing,’ I said, an unsure feeling coming into the pit of my stomach. Elvis raised an eyebrow, 'I was gonna wait until after Christmas.’ 'Wait for what honey?’ he asked. 'Well, you know how you said I’m a good mom?’ I asked, receiving a nod in return, 'well I’m gonna need to be…if I’m gonna have three to contend with.’

Elvis looked at me, the words processing in his mind before his mouth fell into a perfect O shape. I bit my lip as I waited for him to say something. This year had been amazing. He’d been so helpful and kind throughout my pregnancy and now we had a beautiful six-month-old that he was so good with. The last thing on my mind had been another baby. Which explained why we hadn’t really given birth control much thought.

'You mean?’ he said after a long pause. I nodded. 'I’ve only done one test,’ I said, 'there weren’t a lot of options on Christmas Eve but-’ he cut me off as he buried us both in a hug before moving back so he could kiss me. I melted into him so much that when I pulled back I was breathless. He smirked at me, a twinkle in his blue eyes. 'So you’re happy I take it?’ I asked with a giggle. 'Baby I’m more than happy,’ he said with a smile, 'it might not be what we planned…’ 'We didn’t plan for Jess,’ I giggled. 'True,’ he chuckled looking at Jesse who was watching us both as he quietly slobbered all over his teething ring, 'but that worked out pretty well wouldn’t you say?' 'The best,’ I said with a smile. He moved my hair off my face and leaned in to give me another kiss.

'I will say one thing though,’ he said as he pulled back. 'What’s that baby?’ I asked. 'You’ve repeated your gift for two Christmases on the trot now,’ he chuckled. 'Oh don’t worry, I’ve got next year’s present sorted,’ I said. 'Yeah?’ he said with a puzzled look. 'Yeah,’ I said, 'you’re booking in for a vasectomy.’ 'Like hell,’ he said with a laugh. Jesse giggled along with him. Elvis took him off me and tucked him into his arms where he sat happily.

'It’s only fair,’ I said, 'I got you what you wanted for Christmas, you should do the same for me.’ 'You hear this Jess?’ he said, nudging Jesse’s plump cheek with his knuckle, 'your Mama’s ganging up on me.’ 'And here you were thinking you’d get your way with another boy in the house,’ I giggled, kissing his cheek. 'Nah I knew I never had a hope with you,’ he said with a soft smile, 'you’ve all got me wrapped around your little fingers.’ 'You love it,’ I smiled. 'More than anything,’ he nodded.

[wellthebardsdead]

Clockwork heart pt38

Part 37 here

———

Wyrm: *gliding over the lake from riften holding onto mr wrench as the dwarven spider carries him along the breeze before setting him down on the island near a number of apiaries* okay- we haven’t been spotted. Do you have the command animal scroll?

Mr wrench: *pops his legs back down and opens his head pulling out a small scroll* ???

Wyrm: thanks buddy, *takes it and opens it up before casting it at the hives* excuse me bees? I don’t want to hurt you can you come out to the flowers with me?

The bees: *all happily buzz from the hive and swarm the flowers, all of them a little confused from how dark out it is but otherwise very calm and content in Wyrms presence*

Wyrm: okay, now stay here. I’m very sorry about your homes- *shuffles to the hives and lights three of them on fire with a little spark hoping not to get caught* okay that’s done. Now we need to get to the-

???: Is that smoke?! HEY WHO ARE YOU?!

Wyrm: *looks up to see several heavily armed men approaching* uh oh- mr wrench quick! *picks him up ready to take off again only to watch as the bees swarm the mercenaries, stinging them all relentlessly* oh, thank you bees! *hurries past them and up to the mansion before looking at the sewers, and then the main door* … *opens the front door and sneaks inside*

*meanwhile*

Nerevar: *steps into the bee & barb dragging Esbern behind him along with the rest of the group* he’s upstairs resting.

Kaidan: probably nursing an upset stomach with how drunk he was too.

Esbern: You left the dragonborn drunk and unguarded?

Nerevar: He’s not unguarded and he’s not alone either. *walks up the stairs to find delvin chatting with his niece* All clear?

Delvin: *nods* sleeping soundly from what I can tell, haven’t heard a peep out of the room sinc-

Taliesin: *from behind the door* WYRM?!

Delvin: oh no-

Nerevar: *hurries past him and opens the door to find voryn, cary, Taliesin & Lucien all awake and Wyrm missing* What?! Where’d he- *looks to the window seeing it wide open* WYRM!?

Voryn: *still looking extremely groggy and worn out from the previous nights ordeal, quietly looks out the window* he’s… scared but… he feels, confident…

Kaidan: *making sure Caryalinds okay worried Wyrm may have been taken and he could’ve been drugged* that’d be the wine.

Taliesin: Wine or not- *pulls on his robes and grabs berwhale* I-if he gets himself killed I’ll never forgive him!! *suddenly books it past the group and down the stairs having no clue where his love could be but refusing to stay put and wait* Wyrm! Where’d you go!!

???: Up here!!!!

Taliesin: *freezes in place and looks up, nearly falling back in shock as he sees the small dunmer flying back over the city wall* DARLING WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! YOULL GET HURT!!

Wyrm: I’m fine! You’ll never believe what I di-

Mr wrench: *suddenly runs out of steam and starts popping and boppling as he lowers abruptly to the ground, dropping Wyrm in the process*

Taliesin: LOVE! *dashes forward catching him before he can hit the ground*

Wyrm: uh oh- *squeaks as he lands in his arms, mr wrench dropping down onto his chest with a soft thud*

Taliesin: *sighs hugging him close before giving him a stern look* …

Wyrm: *looks up at him nervously trying to be cute* I-Im drunk and small you can’t be mad at me.

Taliesin: Small yes but I’m fairly certain the wine would have worn off by now. *sighs and leans down kissing his forehead softly* why do you insist on giving me grey hairs? Do you want me to look old?

Wyrm: I think you’d look nice with grey ha-mm! *blushes as he’s silenced with a kiss*

Taliesin: *pulls away holding his gaze* Tsk. Don’t even joke about that.

Nerevar: WYRM!!! *hurries out of the inn and yoinks the small dunmer from taliesins arms leaving the high elf standing there confused* What were you thinking?! Running off like that without telling us?! After what happened last night?! We have cultists on our tails on top of everyone else out to get you!! Are you hurt?! Where did you even go!!?

Wyrm: *dangling as he’s held like long cat, looking more calm then upset over his actions* hmmmm… I was thinking delvin needed help with a job. if I told anyone you’d all try to stop me and keep me safe or get yourselves hurt or killed trying to do it for me. I wasn’t worried about cultists because they can’t fly like Mr wrench can. And- *flails cutely trying to reach his pocket but unable to with the way he’s being held* …the documents from the goldenglow estate safe is in my pocket.

Nerevar: I- don’t you get smart with me hla aka you could’ve been kil-

???: Killed? You’re doubting his skills after he pulled off a job none of our senior members could manage?

Nerevar: *looks back to see delvin & sapphire standing there* this doesn’t concern you Mr Mallo-

Wyrm: *smiles looking very proud of himself* I burned the bee hives and got the safe opened like you want- *blinks seeing sapphire* oh! You’re the lady who stole my eye! I’m sorry about trying to cut off your face! I can explain really!!!

Sapphire: n-no Nono it’s fine- I’ll just- *coughs* I’ll be down in the cistern. *pats delvin on the shoulder and walks off in a hurry*

Nerevar: *eye twitching, trying to comprehend everything that’s transpired* Wyrm. You’re telling me you committed arson and breaking and entering?

Wyrm: …yes. It could’ve been worse! I could’ve added murder to the list but Mr wrench picked the safe for me… I don’t know where he got that though- *looks down at the spider*

Mr wrench: *holding a bee in a jar up proudly*

Nerevar: I- … *sighs and sets him down* Hla Aka… I know you want to be stronger, I know you want independence from being protected by us… but there’s better ways to do it that won’t result in potential death or a criminal record.

Voryn: Like tying a bunch of meat and fireworks to a guar and setting it loose in a plantation to attract cliff racers?

Nerevar: *looks back to see voryn standing there, being held upright by caryalind* That was a crime for a worthy cause and you and I both know it was-

Voryn: oh I know. It was very amusing too… *holds open his arms smiling tiredly down at Wyrm* you did great Hla Khes. Just tell someone next time okay?…

Wyrm: *nods and smiles up at him, running into his arms for a hug* I will.

Voryn: *pats his hair, just happy to see Wyrms rambunctious nature returning to him* thank you. Now can we please. Please go to bed?

Delvin: Well- actually if I could steal your boy for a bit, I think Mercer would like to reward him for helping us with the goldenglow job.

Nerevar: It can wait until morning. We’ll be there.

Esbern: *suddenly pipes up as he steps out of the inn* wait until morning?! More thalmor will be here any minute to kill us and you want to wait?! And don’t tell me that scrawny joke of a thing is the dragonborn and expect me to believe y-

Everyone: *draws their weapons*

Wyrm: *lets go of voryn and walks to the old man* Im not a thing. I am the dragonborn. And my name is Wyrm. *folds his arm, his mechanical fingers clenching into a fist* Don’t make me regret my decision to help you, Blade.