#I think that’s the tag used?? I need a tag book or somethin

[spoopyspectomancer]

Been playing Cult of the Lamb and have been loving it! This is an art dump of all the things that’ve happened so far (besides losing to Ratau, I didn’t do that). Such a cute art style, I adore our lil’ guy.

[eternalsdiary]

#SOMETHING UNEXPECTED

pairing: Dina x Ellie x Reader

tags: smut, fingering, MY LOVES

Life seemed average, a repeated cycle you could never seem to get out of. Bland, overused and average.

“YN, you need to get out more! All you do is work and sleep!” Jesse complains. But how could you “get out more” if the whole world was under attack by human beings infected by fungus?

“Jesse, m’not going out tonight. I gotta patrol early tomorrow, I don’t have time f’drinking.” You scoff, closing the book you were reading and placing it in the nearby nightstand. “You’re so boring, you never do anything fun.” He rolls his eyes and exits the room.

You never enjoyed parties anyways. You always felt like an outcast to this whole group of people, you were surprised they even let you stay this damn long. You had showed up out of no where and yet they let you in after a check for infection.

The day continued like usual. Eat, Work, Sleep, Repeat, and obviously the necessities. You groan as you awake, your hair bed head a lot messier than usual. You rub your temples as you exit the hard bed that was seemingly put together from sheets and scattered pillows found around.

You somehow found yourself assigned to early patrol with Ellie and Dina. It wasn’t that you disliked them, it was that you liked them a little too much. Somehow, they distracted you from your daily routine, always pulling you somewhere you didn’t need to be, forcing you to explore things you’d never explored. But today it seemed there was a lot of tension in the area. The snow not making it any better as the freezing air made the freeze of the silence grow thicker.

Silence engulfed the whole ride, until they approached an abandoned warehouse that had a harsh smell of weed. Inside a whole farm of it, just growing like nothing. “Hey hey, I haven’t seen this shit in forever.” Ellie says picking up a jar. “Does weed expire?” She asks turning to Dina, having finally spoken a word to each other. “I guess we’ll have to find out?”

A loud bang was heard, causing you to flinch as you turned to see that the snow had trapped all three of you inside the weed smelling warehouse. “God, I did not want this.” You roll your eyes, removing the gloves you wore. “Fuck…!” You kick something nearby. “Whoa there, it’s not that big of a deal, we can just stay here until it dies down. Then we can try moving the snow.” Ellie suggests, removing her coat and settling in a nearby couch.

You watch as Dina does the same, grabbing a lighter that seemingly still worked to light the joint they’d found in the jar. “This still hits.” Dina says with a small smile, passing the joint over to Ellie. You sigh, removing your jacket and looking around to search for another exit. “Hey, why are you so quick to leave? Live a little and come smoke this with us.” Ellie says, looking at you with her low eyes as the weed seemed to already be taking effect.

“I’m good, I don’t smoke. I didn’t smoke before either.” You roll your eyes, looking around once more, seeing that there were no other ways out. “Just come and sit down. It’s like you have a stick up your ass or somethin’.” Dina says, tilting her head to look at you. You groan, stomping over to them both and settling on the couch. “Here, I think ya need it.” Ellie giggles, egging Dina to do the same.

“I said I’m good.” Dina takes the joint, “Just one time, it won’t kill ya?” She takes a drag from the joint, blowing it into your face, causing you to retract. “Fine.” You finally give in, inhaling the smoke. You cough quickly, the biting sensation in the back of your throat lingering. “Okay what the hell?” You ask, hunching over to cough. “It’s fine, happens when it’s your first time. Try again.” Ellie helps you sit up, guiding the joint to your lips.

“When you inhale, inhale it slowly. So, it doesn’t hurt as bad.” Dina says softly, placing her hand on your thigh unconsciously. You flinch slightly, inhaling the smoke, letting it drape into your lungs slowly. Blowing the smoke into the air, you feel yourself becoming a lot more relaxed. “That was better yeah?” Ellie asks, watching you as she inhaled the joint and blows the smoke into your face.

“I guess so.” You say quietly, everyone feeling the effects of the weed. It hits you harder, your head spinning softly, your eyes getting heavier, and the stir between your legs becoming a lot more prominent. “Should we have another Dina? I’m not sure she can handle two.” Ellie says, looking at your slouched appearance.

You shake your head. “I’m good, I think.” You chuckle. Ellie nods lighting another, placing it between her thin yet plump lips. You watch her, your eyes entranced by the way her lips wrap around the joint. Dina slides her hand further up your leg, catching your attention. You turn to her, a smirk dawning her lips as she tilts her head to get a better look at you.

Ellie hands the joint over once more, this time leaning over you a bit more than usual. The feeling of her skin warming you up a lot more then you already were, her perky and uncovered breasts swaying in your face. You blush softly, your face tinted slightly. The thoughts that run through your head becoming unholy, but you blame it on the weed. Dina takes a drag, inhaling slowly. Suddenly she leans into you, your lips parting as she connects her lips to yours and exhales the smoke back into your lungs.

It was random, causing you to flinch softly. “Did ya like that? Or should I stop?” She slides her hand up your thigh further, her thumb gliding over your clothed cunt softly. Ellie watches, her eyes lingering over your figure. You look at Dina, the sinful thoughts running through your head starting to take over. “I-I don’t do this. I’ve never-“ Ellie silences you, putting the bud of the joint into the couch to let it burn out.

“We got you.”

Like usual, with Ellie and Dina you were doing something you didn’t usually do. Your legs spread open as Dina licked up the slit of your wet and dripping cunt. Ellie grips her hair, guiding her to eat you out just right. Your hands gripping the side of the couch as you whine and groan Dina’s name out into existence. Her arms wrapped around your thighs to keep your legs open as you shake, throwing your head back as she hits the spot that makes you tingle just right.

“Fuhh-ck!” Your head falls back off the couch, Dina’s fingers mingling with the hardened buds underneath your shirt. “Feel good pretty?” Ellie asks softly, looking down at you. You nod, droll pooling at your lips. Dina slides her finger into your core, your back arching into her as you fuck yourself with her fingers. “Fuc- Dina! Oh good-“ You grip the couch harder, the knot in your stomach growing tighter.

She eats you like it was her last meal, her eyes never leaving yours as she penetrates you with another finger. Ellie continues to guide her, hitting all the spots inside you just right. Her hands come down to your chest, running her thumb over the nipple as if she was admiring the way they bounced as you used Dina. “Yesyes.. right there!”

You grind against her face, feeling yourself become a lot needier. The high you felt earlier could never compare to this one. Her hands spreading you open just right, your eyes shut tightly. “Look at me hun.” She says softly, diving back into you as you open your eyes to look down at her. Ellie watches in awe at the way you open up to Dina’s fingers. “Oh shi- I’m gonna cum Din-“ Ellie suddenly moves Dina’s hand away.

You catch your breath, confused as to why she was depriving you. “I wanna turn too.” Dina rolls her eyes. “You could’ve at least let her cum first. I’m sure she can handle two orgasms.” You watch as they talk about you like you're not even there. “Okay then, think you can handle two pretty?” Your eyes pan to Ellie, nodding slowly as you lean back once more. “Good girl, see I told ya.” Dina says, sliding her digits back inside of you.

She decides not to start slow this time, her fingers using you quickly. “I wanna taste you c’mon.” You feel the high you were on coming back, your hands gripping her hair softly. Your eyes don’t leave her as Ellie leans back, watching the both of you as she waits patiently for her turn with you.

“C’mon hun, wanna taste your cum.” Dina speaks sinfully, causing you to fall over the edge. “Oh- cumming! Please!” You release on her fingers, back arching over the edge of the couch. Your legs shake as you orgasm like you never have before. She sucks softly on your sensitive bud, you whine softly. “Gotta take one more for Ellie, she wants a taste too hun.” Dina slaps your cunt softly.

You nod, spreading your legs once more. The adrenaline running through your body causing you to work against how sensitive you were. “Go in then you needy fuck, go get your fill of her before she changes her mind.” Dina slaps Ellie’s arm softly, wiping her face of your essence. Ellie leans in, kissing your stomach, kissing the inside of your thigh, then kissing your fold softly. “I can’t wait anymore.”

She suddenly licks, causing you to close your legs. “Ah Ah C’mon now. You keep ‘em open f’me do the same for El.” Dina spread your legs back open, leaning against Ellie. You whine, feeling sensitive as Ellie continues with her endeavor. She spreads your folds, sliding her finger inside to replace Dina’s. The length of her finger hitting a spot inside you that Dina didn’t hit before.

“Ah, wait! You- god!” You try to close your legs once more, but Dina slaps your inner thigh, holding them open. “Hey, stop it. You said you could take it so take it like a big girl.” Dina giggles, rubbing your inner thigh softly. You chant Ellie’s name, her fingers curling slighting inside you. You grip her hair, riding her face as if she were a dildo and you were a pornstar.

Dina feels her arousal pooling in her pants, sliding her hand down into her jeans as she touches herself at the sight of you. Your bottom lip I’m between your teeth as you groan, Ellie’s hair gripped in between your fingers. She enjoys the sight of it all. Ellie kissing your stomach again as she adds another finger, speeding up just enough to make you scream. “I’m- oh shit! Ellie please…!” You hold onto her wrist to keep her from moving away, riding her fingers and clenching around them.

“Gonna cum pretty, I wanna taste you as bad. S’not fair Dina got to try it first.” You whine, unable to speak. Dina throws her head back as she feels herself about to release around her own fingers. “Gonna cum together yeah? Cum with me YN.” She says breathlessly as she rides her own fingers. Ellie snickers, “ya just couldn’t wait could ya?” Diving back down to devour the essence about to release from you.

Your head spinning softly, your back arching, you ride her fingers until suddenly. You burst, cumming and squeezing around her fingers, your head falling back and your legs shaking like never before. “E-El oh Fuck! Yesyesyes!” You spread your legs more as she licks it all up, not leaving one drop of you behind. “Taste so good pretty.” She says quietly into your cunt.

Dina cums as well, her legs shaking as she slows down, circling her bud slowly. “Oh yes..” she leans back, pulling her hand out of her jeans. “Wanna taste?” She asks, leaning forward and placing her fingers into your mouth, allowing you to suck them clean. Your eyes low, the high still rippling through you.

“Let’s do this again sometime.”

I want them both so bad...

[steddieas-shegoes]

safe like a pinky promise

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is protection'

rated m | 2,744 words | cw: alcohol, steve is drunk, minor violence (mostly just the threat of violence) | tags: protective eddie munson, protective steve harrington, post breakup, getting back together, exes to lovers

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In hindsight, Steve should’ve been smarter about coming to this bar alone.

He’d only ever been there with Eddie and his friends, and while they weren’t the most popular, people knew not to mess with them or anyone with them. Without their protection, without Eddie’s protection, Steve was kind of asking for trouble.

Especially when he showed up already drunk, causing a scene at the bar in the middle of Corroded Coffin’s set.

He’d been having fun, or trying to, at his house with Robin. But when her parents called and insisted she come home, she left him with a buzz and a loneliness he couldn’t do anything else with.

He missed Eddie. He’d fucked up so bad and now he had to miss Eddie forever. Or maybe not forever. Maybe if he just showed up to support him like he used to, maybe if he bought him a drink and asked to talk, maybe if he kissed him in the bathroom and asked him to come home with him…

The bar was packed, way busier than it ever had been before. Most of the crowd was younger, but definitely older than Eddie and the band. He could see some older guys in the back corner and the regulars at the bar.

The room was spinning as he tried to get eyes on Eddie. He just needed to see Eddie.

Eddie was on stage, the poor lighting doing a shitty job of making him look like the star he was. Steve would need to talk to the owner about that soon. His boy should shine.

Well, he wasn’t really his boy anymore, or ever. That was the problem.

Steve had run. Despite Eddie always insisting that he was a runner, Steve had been the one to book it the moment Eddie wanted things to be more serious.

Even Robin told him it didn’t make sense. Steve was the commitment type, craved permanence from someone in a way that most people their age didn’t even think about.

The moment Eddie offered that to him, he left.

He regretted it every moment since.

Eddie’s voice filled the bar, the drums and guitar of his bandmates loud enough to make the walls shake. It was all Steve could focus on.

He didn’t know how people were having regular conversations right now.

“‘Scuse me!” Steve yelled to the bartender, who was pouring a beer from the tap. “Did you guys not know they were playin’ t’night?”

He could kind of register that he was slurring his words a bit, but couldn’t do anything about it. He hadn’t been drunk in a long time, he forgot the way his head buzzed when he was.

“They play every Tuesday night, son. Why?” The bartender handed the beer

Steve wasn’t usually an asshole, not anymore. If he was, it was unintentional.

But this was about to be very intentional.

“So you just expect them to sing on a dark stage?” He managed to not slur too much that time, wanted to express how serious it was that Eddie wasn’t getting the right treatment. “How’s he sposed to be a rockstar?”

The bartender crossed his arms, unamused at Steve’s questioning.

Steve didn’t care. Eddie deserved better than a half-assed attempt at a bar.

“He’s so good! And you don’t let him be.” Steve wasn’t sure if that made sense, but the bartender seemed to get it.

“Listen, kid. I dunno who served you before you got here, but you’re not gonna cause a scene, alright? Just go get some fresh air and wait for your friend.”

“He should have better lights!”

A man at the bar stood up and took a step towards Steve. “Hey, you heard Ernie. Go get some fresh air before you do somethin’ stupid.”

Steve should probably listen. Robin would tell him to listen.

The bar was suddenly very quiet, the music on stage paused and voices of people nearby so quiet Steve couldn’t hear what they were saying.

Why was he even mad?

He looked over to see Eddie on stage, looking around the room with his eyes squinting.

Right, the lights.

“He’s gonna be famous someday and it won’t be because you helped. Maybe you should buy a-” Steve felt his stomach turn. Shit. “A um.”

The man across from him mistook his stumbling over words and fists as a threat, and before Steve knew it, he was pushed against the wall by the bar.

“You listen here, kid. Don’t know why you showed up already so drunk, but you best leave before this turns into a serious problem. Ernie does these boys a favor lettin’ them play for tips at all. Start causin’ a scene, they won’t be able to come back, ya understand?”

The hand balling up his shirt was large, and the man’s face was red with anger.

Steve never backed down from a fight though.

“If nobody stands up for them, they’ll just keep playin’ for free. This place doesn’t even get people like this unless they’re playing.”

Just as Steve closed his eyes and expected a fist to the face, he was released and fell down against the wall. He looked up to see Eddie, guitar slung over his back, talking to the man who was holding him against the wall.

He couldn’t really hear what they were saying, too distracted by the way Eddie’s curls framed his face. They were always perfectly messy, falling in a way that would probably look terrible on someone else. But it was Eddie, and everything looked good on Eddie.

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice brought him back to earth and he suddenly realized the entire band was standing behind Eddie, and all eyes were on them.

“They don’t even know you’re a rockstar, Eds,” Steve whined. “I tried to tell ‘em and they thought I was gonna be a problem.”

Eddie waved the guys away, handing his guitar to Gareth before leaning down to help Steve to his feet. “C’mon. You’re drunk as shit.”

Steve couldn’t really argue with that, and arguing would maybe make Eddie take his hands off of him, so fuck that. Eddie’s hands belonged on him. 2+2 was four and Eddie’s hands should be on Steve.

“Eddie, they don’t even turn the lights on!” Steve fell against his chest, mumbling into his shoulder. “No lights!”

Steve breathed in Eddie’s scent, sweat and body wash mixed up just right to drive Steve crazy.

But Eddie didn’t do it to drive Steve crazy, not anymore. Not since-

“Did you drive here?” Eddie asked, luckily keeping his arm wrapped around Steve as he guided him out the front door.

“No. Walked.” For some reason, he felt chastised, like maybe Eddie was disappointed in him, but he didn’t know what for. Maybe drinking? But Eddie liked to let loose sometimes too. It wouldn’t be fair of him to judge Steve for finally letting go a little.

“You walked? From where?”

“My house.”

“Steve, that’s three miles away.”

“Is it?”

Eddie pulled him to the back of his van, leaning him against the back doors and taking a long look at him.

“Does Robin know you walked here?”

“She isn’t in charge of me, I don’t have to ask for fuckin’ permission-“

“Get in the van.” Eddie tugged him to the passenger door, opening it for him and waiting for Steve to get in. “Do you need help?”

“No. I can do it.”

Which was a lie, and they both knew it, but Steve was not about to admit out loud how little control he had over his own limbs.

It became clear the moment he tried to step up into the van and his foot missed making contact by a solid six inches. He would’ve fallen flat on his face if not for Eddie’s strong arms wrapping around him and lifting him into the passenger seat.

Eddie closed the door and got into the driver’s seat, not even turning the radio on as they drove. They were heading in the direction of the trailer park, not Steve’s house, and Steve tried not to feel smug about it.

“Why did you come tonight?” Eddie finally asked, his knuckles turning white against the steering wheel. “Why are you drunk? And why did I have to rescue you from getting another concussion?”

“I just miss you.”

It was simple. That’s what it all boiled down to.

Steve missed Eddie, missed being able to just show up for him when he wanted, missed playing with his hair when he was asleep because that was the only time he sat still enough for him to do it. He missed the way he kissed the freckle closest to his ear when he was trying to calm him down after a nightmare. He missed making him laugh.

“Steve, you-” Eddie sighed and turned the radio on. “You can sleep it off and I’ll bring you home in the morning.”

“I don’t wanna sleep it off. I don’t want you to ignore me.” Steve crossed his arms, protecting himself from whatever words Eddie would throw at his chest. “I want you to miss me too.”

The turn into the trailer park was silent as Steve’s words surrounded them.

When the van was in park in front of Eddie’s trailer, he turned to Steve.

“I do miss you. I miss us.” Eddie wouldn’t look at him, but Steve could tell he was trying not to cry. “But I can’t talk to you about it until you’ve slept this off, okay? Whatever you’re feeling now might be gone in the morning.”

The adrenaline wearing off was enough for Steve to feel pretty sober, but he could still see double and the van felt like it was still moving under him, so he knew he was too drunk to have the conversation now.

“But in the mornin’?” Steve’s head felt heavy.

He was reaching his least favorite part of being drunk, the exhaustion phase, where every movement felt like it was in slow motion but the world around him was speeding by and his body felt numb. He closed his eyes as he waited for Eddie’s response.

His eyes shot open when he felt Eddie’s finger brush against his pinky.

“In the morning, we’ll talk. Pinky promise,” his pinky wrapped around Steve’s, squeezed, and didn’t let go.

Steve looked down at their joined pinkies, thought about how something so small made him feel so safe, and nodded once.

Eddie helped him inside, one arm around his waist and humming a song Steve vaguely recognized as they walked down the hall to Eddie's room.

“Couch?” Steve asked.

“Don’t want Wayne to wake you up when he gets home.”

Steve was helped out of his shoes and jeans and tucked in on his side of the bed.

He curled up under the blanket, breathing in the scent of Eddie’s shampoo on the pillow.

He drifted off to the warmth coming from Eddie’s side of the bed and the sound of Eddie humming that familiar song.

******

“...need ya to be careful, Ed. He really did a number on ya last time.”

Steve blinked his eyes open as he processed Wayne’s voice on the other side of the door, a voice he hadn’t heard in months. A voice that used to be warm and comforting for Steve from a person who placed his trust in Steve to not hurt his nephew.

“I think I did a number on him, too.”

Steve’s head was pounding, but not in the way of his usual migraines. He hadn’t been hungover in a long time, but he was quickly reminded of why he hadn’t bothered to drink in so long.

“I’m headin’ to bed. Be good to each other.”

Steve heard Wayne’s bedroom door close and Eddie’s door open. He didn’t pretend to be asleep, even though it would have given him at least another few minutes of soaking in this feeling of being Eddie’s before things turned sour. He looked at Eddie, who stood at the edge of his bed, his fingers curling around a loose thread of his blanket.

He was nervous.

He hadn’t been nervous when Steve broke his heart, he’d just been angry.

He hadn’t been nervous when they first kissed, he’d just been ready.

But he was nervous now and Steve knew that meant he needed to lead.

“Hey.” Steve’s voice was rough, more than just the usual morning rasp from disuse. “Can we talk in bed?”

They were known to have nightly talks facing each other in bed, sometimes still sweaty and breathless from sending each other over the edge, the honesty easier when the outside world felt far away.

Eddie must have recognized Steve’s intentions as he got under the blanket, facing him in bed with a nervous smile on his face.

“Hey,” Steve said again, barely more than a whisper.

“Hi.”

“Sorry about last night.” Eddie shrugged, but Steve pushed on. “I shouldn’t have gone to the bar at all. But I definitely shouldn’t have caused problems when I got there. I’m sorry I made a scene.”

“It’s alright, Stevie.” Eddie’s hand was inching closer to Steve’s between them. “Why were you drunk?”

“Robin and I were hanging out and she kept trying to bring up how I haven’t tried going out at all since-” Steve breathed out. “Since I ruined everything with you. And she said if I wasn’t gonna make it right with you, I should at least try to find someone who might make me happy. And I didn’t know who would! It was you for so long and you’re the only person who could make me that happy. So when she left I went from drinking a couple beers to drinking a few shots of the whiskey my dad didn’t take with him. And then I just…missed you.”

Eddie’s hand finally found Steve’s, his fingers curling against the back of his hand.

“I always miss you, but it was worse when I was alone and drinking. I was drunk enough to think walking to the bar was a good idea, which it clearly wasn’t-”

“I dunno about that. You’re in my bed again and that’s not all bad,” Eddie interrupted, a small smile threatening to break out into a much bigger one. “We aren’t doing anything else, but can I kiss you, Stevie?”

“Please,” Steve breathed out.

It had been four months, two weeks, and one day since the last time Eddie kissed Steve.

But this kiss felt like no time had passed at all, like they’d pick up exactly where they left off before Steve ruined it.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Eddie said against his lips, opening his eyes to see what was going on. “What’s goin’ on?”

“I’m just sorry that I let myself ruin what we had.”

“Sweetheart, listen to me.” Eddie cupped his face in his hands, forcing eye contact. “You did screw up. I can’t lie and say you didn’t. You had every chance to talk me through what was going on in your head and work it out in any other way, but you didn’t. That hurt me, but it also hurt you. And I should’ve tried to talk after. I shut you out and didn’t leave much room for you to make it right. That part is on me.”

“It wasn’t up to you to-”

“No, it was up to us and we’re young and stupid and have no idea what we’re doing so of course we’re gonna fuck up. We can love each other and still be stupid sometimes. But maybe next time we won’t forget that we love each other, huh?” Eddie kissed the tip of Steve’s nose. “Do you still have those thoughts?”

“Which ones?”

“The ones telling you that you can’t have someone who makes you feel safe.”

Steve looked at the only person on earth besides Robin who ever made him feel truly loved and protected.

He thought about how his last words to Eddie before last night had been spewed in anger, but were born of pain and mistrust in his own ability to be loved. He thought about how Robin told him the only way to be loved was to just let it happen, even when it was scary.

“I do still have them, yeah.” Steve leaned in to give him a kiss on the lips, soft and slow. “But you’ll protect me, right?”

“Every day, sweetheart.”

[caffeinetheif]

Bit of an odd request to make. Could I request the seven brothers with an s/o that likes plushies?

Of course! As a fellow plush enthusiast, I don’t find this request odd at all ❤️ I decided to write a short blurb with headcanons for each brother. Hope you enjoy!

P.S. I had the hardest time writing for Satan and Levi. I apologise in advance for Satan and Levi lovers lol. And Shoutout to my bestie for helping me come up with ideas <3 love u babe

The Demon Brothers with an S/O that Has Plushies

GN! MC/Reader

Lucifer:

He’d probably be the most critical of the brothers

He would most likely give you a long winded lecture on spending habits

Though, after seeing how happy they make you, he might be more open to it.

“MC, what is the reason for all of... these?” Lucifer asks, holding up one of your many plushies. You should have seen this coming. He is the eldest brother after all, it’s like it’s his job to scrutinize everything. 

You roll your eyes before answering, “They remind me of home, in a way. Do really need a reason to have them?”

Lucifer pauses and thinks for a moment before gently returning the plushy to its original spot. “I suppose they don’t need a reason, as long as you’re happy.”

Mammon

He can’t help but think of the price tags on your more collectable or hard to find plushies, but don’t worry about him selling them.

In all honesty, I think he’d enjoy having an excuse to shower you in gifts

For special occasions, he’d try to find some of the hard to find plushies in the Devildom as a surprise for you

“Oi, MC! I gotcha somethin’.” 

You barely look up from your DDD before a shopping bag lands on your lap. You look up at Mammon with a confused look. It’s normal for him to get you things out of the blue, but they’re normally much smaller than the one currently on your legs.

You reach into the bag and pull out the contents. A soft, purple plush sheep sits in your hands. You can’t help the large grin that settles on your face as you examine the adorable sheep. 

Leviathan

He would have a problem with your plushies, but not for the reason you think. He loves their cuteness, but hates that they take your attention away from him.

Almost sees them as competition, but he won’t tell you that

However, he’s the most understanding about your collection. Afterall, look at how much Ruri-chan merch he has.

“MC, pay attention to me!”

“Levi, you were in the middle of a game. I wasn’t going to interupt you because I wanted to cuddle.”

“But I’m not gaming anymore,” Leviathan pouts.

You laugh at his attempt at a begging face and give in, ditching your plush cuddle buddy in favor of opening your arms for your purple haired lover. He grumbles about how you must love your plushies more than him as he plops himself in your arms. 

Satan

Satan would be the most nonchalant about your plushy collection. He finds it nice to talk to you about collecting items, even if your collections are vastly different.

He would probably use them as pillows when laying in your bed or to prop up his books

If you have any cat plushies, please show him them.

Satan has noticed that you have a specific species of animal that you favor when you buy plushies. He has gotten into the habit of buying that plush animal when he finds one you don’t have and secretly adding it to your collection. 

Anytime you begin to notice a new one, Satan tells you a white lie such as, “You bought it when we went grocery shopping a few weeks ago. Do you not remember?” He hopes you don’t catch on to his accidental gaslighting anytime soon.

Asmodeus

He would definitely see your plushies as a photoshoot opportunity

Has a secret photoalbum on his DDD of just you napping and cuddling with your plushies.

At least once a week he will ask you to take pictures of him with your plushies for his devilgram.

As cute as Asmo thinks you are when you cuddle with your plushies, he sometimes wishes that you were cuddling him instead. That’s how he found himself in his current predicament. 

He’s trying so hard to not wake you up as he gently moves your arms from around the plushy you’re currently napping with. With slow movements and a little tug to the plush, he removes it from your grasp with a triumphant grin. Ever so slowly, he lowers himself down and replaces the pushy with himself and rests his head on your chest with a happy sigh. Shortly after he gets comfortable, he drifts off to sleep with his own arms draped around your waist. 

Beelzebub

If you have food themed plushies you better hide them because we all know how Beel gets with anything food related

Like Satan, I feel like he wouldn’t really mind your plushies.

He would win prizes from any and all the strength games at the carnivals for you

It was getting late, so you and Beel decided to call it a night and head home from the carnival. With Beel’s large hand in one of your own and a large plush prize in your other arm, you considered this date one to remember.

Beel had noticed you eyeing one of the zombie lizard plushies at one of the game booths and made it his mission to win you one. Luckily, it was a strength based game, similar to ones you had seen in the human realm. 

It had taken several of the small prizes to be traded in to get the large one, but the look of joy when Beel handed you the zombie lizard made it worth it.

Belphegor

He would be the most likely to enjoy your plushies or be a plushy stealer

oftentimes, you’ll find him cuddled up with your plushies

I think he’d find a lot of comfort in your scent that clings to the plushy

It had been a rough day in class for you, the stress of exams weighing down on your shoulders. You would love nothing more than to collapse onto your bed and take a well deserved nap.

When you reach your bedroom and open your door, you expect to be greeted with your neatly made bed ready to welcome you into its warm covers. However, the sight you’re greeted with instead is Belphegor snoozing away with his face tucked right into your favorite plushy. You quietly take a photo before crawling in bed beside him and passing out.

Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated <3 

[melodygatesauthor]

The OJ Problem

Marc Spector X f!Reader

Part 9 of 28 in the February Fluff and Fuck 2023 Challenge

Day 9 Prompt - Sick Fic

Summary: You are beyond disappointed when you wake up on Valentine's Day with a stuffy nose and a fever. Marc makes sure that you are taken care of.

Tags/Warnings: NSFW, Reader has sickness (non terminal), literally just a head cold, marc is sweet, jealous marc, headspace appearances from Jake and Steven, caretaking, marc is a little bit of a crybaby, marc is very insecure, this one kinda got away from me but it's ok, wasn't supposed to have smut but ended up having smut anyway, kinda emo, praise kink

Word Count: 4k

It was February fourteenth, Valentine’s Day. You were opening your eyes, already excited by the prospects of what was to come. Marc was always good at spoiling you every year. He always booked a spot at your favorite restaurant, got you your favorite flowers, and the day always started with smell of-

You couldn’t smell breakfast. Sitting up, you quickly realized it had nothing to do with Marc not making it, and everything to do with you not being able to draw breath through your nostrils. It hit you as you breathed a labored breath through your lungs and felt a cough tickle at the back of your throat. You were sick. On Valentine’s Day.

“Good morning baby.” Marc came over to you with a smile that quickly faded upon seeing your concerned face. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“I think I’m sick.” You said, sniffling.

You thought you felt off the night before. You were sure you’d felt the faint throb of a headache somewhere behind your skull but you’d brushed it off to not enough water in the day. Marc pressed a cool hand to your forehead and gave you a concerned look.

“Oh, babe, you’re burning up.” He sighed. “I’m going to go get you some Tylenol, just lay down.”

You did as you were told, laying on your back and feeling yourself starting to cry. You had been looking forward to this day for so long. It was Marc’s day. Steven got the fifteenth and Jake got…well whatever day he told you he got, as long as it wasn’t Marc or Steven’s day. Now you were going to spend the day sick and a mess.

When Marc came back to your beside with a glass of water and two small white pills, his brows were drawn together when he saw you in tears.

“Baby, don’t cry, come on, sit up.” He urged, sitting on the bed next to you.

You groaned as you sat up. Marc handed you the cup and you took the two pills he handed you. You watched his expression shifting while you sucked down even more water. The boys were chattering away in his head no doubt, both giving their opinions on the situation. Whenever you had some sort of ailment, each one wished to come to your aid, and while it was endearing, you knew it had a tendency to weigh Marc down.

“What are they saying?” You asked, handing him back the, now empty, glass.

“It’s not important right now, I want you to lay down and rest, alright? Do you need something?” He asked, face still riddled with worry.

You chuckled and used your thumb to rub out his wrinkled brow. The chuckle had scratched your throat though, forcing you to turn your head from him and let out a cough that nearly rattled the flat. He let out a heavy sigh.

“I don’t know. Maybe when I wake up.” You said, pouting when you laid back down under the covers.

Marc walked over to the kitchen and started cleaning up from breakfast. He was getting tired of the voices in his head already this morning.

I told you something was off with her last night. Steven said, Marc, why don’t you let me make her some tea or somethin’, yeah?

“No, you get your day tomorrow, Steven.” Marc said under his breath so you wouldn’t hear him.

He’s better at taking care of her when she doesn’t feel well than you are amigo. Jake chimed in.

“Will both of you just shut the hell up? I can take care of her when she’s sick.” He only raised his voice a little.

Finally some sweet silence in his head. He loved both of his alters dearly, but sometimes he wished for quiet, and rarely did he get it. You stirred in the bed, forcing a pang in his chest at the reminder that this Valentine’s Day wouldn’t be what you’d hoped for. He ate some of the breakfast he’d made and put the rest in a container in the fridge. He ran his hands over his face in combination with a heavy sigh.

It would be easier to pass things over to Steven. He was exceptionally good at taking care of you when you were under the weather, but Marc was determined. It was his day. He got Valentine’s Day, and he wasn’t going to give it over to one of the others. In fact, he was going to prove to them that he could not only take care of you while you were sick, but manage to give you a great Valentine’s Day regardless of your current state.

When he heard your snores, he knew that you were sleeping, and decided it was a perfect time to go to the store and get supplies. On his way out to the car he called the restaurant and canceled the reservations, he knew for sure he wasn’t taking you out anywhere. 

The guys were quiet as he drove, and for that he was grateful. They often questioned him when it came to caring for you. Jake, the always observant, knew you like the back of his hand, always in tune with what you wanted or needed at any given time. Steven was just wonderful in every way, while not as observant, he put his heart into everything, and loved with every bit of his soul. Marc, well, Marc felt that he paled in comparison to both.

As soon as he pulled into the parking lot, Steven was chirping in his ear again.

When you get in there, make sure you get the ginger and turmeric tea.

“Steven, I’m really trying hard not to lose my patience with you guys, but our girl is sick, and it’s my day, so just let me deal with it.” Marc said, getting out of the car. “You can take care of her tomorrow when it’s your day.”

He slammed the door and made his way to the brick building before him. His head was as noisy as the store was with chattering. He tried to ignore it, but it felt like one of them had something to say about each aisle he walked down. Marc stepped up to the orange juice. He knew vitamin C would be helpful.

You’ve got to get the oj without the pulp in it, she doesn’t like pulp, Jake said.

“I fucking know.” Marc hissed into the reflection of the metal door handle.

The truth was, he didn’t know. He had no idea if you liked your orange juice with pulp or no pulp. It had never occurred to him to ask you. Somehow Jake knew though, he knew everything it seemed. Marc kept walking and was actually glad when Steven reminded him about the Valentine’s Day aisle. It was the one aisle in the store that changed with every holiday, and today it was all decked in red, white, and pink. He was so focused on your illness that he had nearly forgotten to get you anything for the special day.

Marc, shouldn’t we get her somethin’ to lift her spirits? Maybe a card or-or maybe some chocolates? I know she likes the-

“Steven, if you don’t stop, they're going to call the cops on me like they did before and we’re going to have a really tough time taking care of her from the police station.” Marc was graced with silence yet again.

He remembered a couple of months ago getting arrested in the mall for disturbing the peace. Someone had seen him yelling in a mirror by a home decor store and called the cops. You’d been kind enough to come and get him, though you made sure to give each one of them a stern talking to on the way home. Yes, you’d even leaned in to Jake which pissed him off and you didn’t see him again for a week. You hated it when they argued.

Marc knew what you liked, and he didn’t like it when the other two treated him like he didn’t know you as well as they did. He had a hard time feeling like he was worthy of even being around you most of the time, so the added pressure was doing nothing but aggravating him. Jake was going on about something in Spanish and Marc did his best to just ignore it while he picked out a card for you.

Despite wanting to act like he knew what you needed best, he knew Steven was usually right when it came to caretaking supplies. Marc could hear him sputtering about in the headspace. When Steven knew something he knew it, and getting him to stop talking was near impossible.

You’re going to want to get her some lozenges yeah? But not the kind that are just vitamin drops, those don’t do a thing. Oh and she’ll want a hot bath later, make sure to get that stuff that makes the air minty. Helps to clear the airways y’know?

Marc was letting Steven guide him now, too tired of arguing to keep up the protest. He grabbed everything that you might need to fight through the cold, but when it came near time to leave, he wanted to get a few more things for the special day. He grabbed flowers, your favorite of course, some of the snacks you liked that he knew you’d want when you were feeling better, and there was a little stuffed bear with a heart in his hands that said I’m crazy for you, that Marc thought was cute, and Jake muttered that it was, estúpido.

When Marc was finally back in the car with all of his things, he was free to talk as much as he wanted, and he did just that.

“Jake, what the hell is your problem huh? Steven, look I know you’re trying to help but it’s my day. Steven you are always the one she cries to when she needs a-a hug or someone to take care of her.” Marc had hardly left the parking lot and he needed to pull over, he felt himself starting to get more emotional than he thought he would over something like this. “Jake, you’re the one she always goes to when-”

Marc, you need to stop that, Steven said firmly. 

“I didn’t even remember what kind of orange juice she likes, I don’t know how you guys remember all that stuff.” Marc slumped back in his seat.

She loves all of us. She loves me, you, and Jake, and you are perfectly capable of taking care of her just like I am.

“I was doing fine, and then all day you guys have been in my head, reminding me that I don’t know a damn thing about her, or how to care for her. All you did was remind me that I don’t have any business being with someone like her.” Marc stared out the window, trying to collect himself, but he was slipping.

I’ll tell you one thing, the longer you sit here, the longer she’s going without medicine and hot soup, Jake reminded Marc, snapping him out of his self-pity spiral. 

He knew that if he didn’t collect himself, one of them would take over and go take care of you, so if he wanted to have his day, he needed to move. Marc wiped his eyes and sat up straight in his seat. The other two were silent the entire way back to the flat, surely realizing they’d pushed Marc too far with the constant nagging about the things he should be doing.

It wasn’t that Marc didn’t understand that they were trying to help. In fact, he was grateful for their help, but he constantly felt like anything you needed, they could handle better than he could, and when you were sick, he wasn’t the best one for you. By “helping”, they’d just hit that point home. They didn’t trust him to get the right juice, tea, or medicine. Even when it came to the stuffed animal, Jake had something to say about that too.

When Marc got back into the flat, you were just opening your eyes again and reminded by the ache in your head that you still felt awful. You groaned, sitting up, and you felt so happy just to see Marc’s face. You could tell immediately that something had happened. He had that look he got when they’d been arguing. You could also tell that he’d been crying.

“Baby, come here.” You said, holding your arms out.

Marc’s heart leapt knowing that you were calling him over. You tended to have different pet names for each of them, and you only called him baby. He set all the bags he had down and walked over, toeing off his shoes and then crawling into the bed next to you. There was an awkward moment where he couldn’t decide if you were going to lay on his chest or if he were going to lay on yours, but you pulled him in roughly.

Your fingers immediately started carding through his hair. You felt him sigh, melting into your chest. Your breathing was labored and you turned your head to cough once again.

“Baby…” Marc tried to get up but you held him in place.

“No, tell me what happened.” You croaked, continuing to comfort him with your fingertips.

“Nothing, just…just some stuff. Please, let me take care of you, you don’t have to worry about-”

“Marc.” You said firmly. “What did we talk about, baby? You can’t shut me out, none of you are allowed to do that. It doesn’t end well.”

He adjusted himself so he was laying in your lap looking up at you. You rested your palm gently against his cheek. He pressed his hand against yours.

“I know this isn’t what you wanted for Valentine’s Day, and I know that Steven and Jake are better at taking care of you than I am so if you want one of them to take care of you tonight I understand. I just need you to tell me.” He said finally.

You stared at him, eyes squinting. You turned your head into your elbow and sneezed. You sniffled and wiped your nose on your sleeve like a four year old. A smile spread over your face.

“Marc, yes, Steven is amazing when it comes to caregiving, making tea, comfort, all that stuff. Jake knows how to get something done. He doesn’t hesitate, and he always remembers my favorites, but you…you are so special to me.” You let out a sigh. “Like I know how much easier it would’ve been to stay in the headspace today and let them handle everything, but you didn’t, you pushed through. I’m proud of you.”

Oh, that’s really sweet, Jake said in a surprisingly non-patronizing tone.

I might cry myself if you don’t, Marc, Steven said.

Marc’s mouth was curled into a frown while he tried to suppress the tears forming. He’d spent the entire day trying to convince himself that he wasn’t the worst boyfriend ever for not remembering the important things and having his alters constantly reminding him what to get you. Then you told him you were proud of him.

“I didn’t even remember if you like pulp in your oj or not, Jake did though.” He said, forcing a chuckle from you.

"I do love pulp in my oj.” You patted Marc’s chest.

He froze. You love pulp in your orange juice. That was all Marc needed to hear. The cocky Mr. Lockley was silent finally, and Steven could be heard laughing uncontrollably within the headspace. You watched Marc’s expression change from the look of heart shattering dread. He looked determined now, like you’d recharged his mind, like he was going to do what needed to be done.

“Baby,” he sat up, “why don’t you get comfortable, I’m going to go make you some tea and start you a bath.” He kissed your forehead softly.

And with that, Marc was still set to give you a Valentine’s Day to remember, sick or not. He made you some tea, which your sore throat was eternally grateful for. You heard him filling up the tub, and were surprised to hear nothing else coming from the bathroom. You suspected Jake was upset about something, he usually went silent when he was, and you figured it had something to do with Marc’s change in attitude.

You were almost finished with your cup when Marc came out to help you into the bath. He went to carry you bridal style but you stopped him.

“I can walk, you know.” You protested.

“Yeah, I know.” He grunted when he lifted you despite your telling him not to.

You were too sick and tired to put up a fight, so you let him carry you over and place you on the closed toilet lid. He assisted you in taking off your clothes. You loved the way Marc looked at you when you were naked, always like he wanted to devour you whole. He picked you up again and placed you into the hot water gingerly, as though you might break if he moved too fast. He kissed your forehead again.

“I’ll be back in a little bit, let me know if you need anything.” He said, reaching for the door.

“Marc, wait.” You said as his hand rested on the knob. He turned back to you. “Can you…join me?” You scooted forward to leave him room behind you.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, you being sick, don’t you want to-”

“Please, baby?” You asked, giving him the biggest, poutiest eyes you could muster.

He sighed heavily, unable to resist you when you looked at him like that.

Yep, I’m out. Have fun, Marc. Steven said, and then he was silent.

Marc dropped his pants and briefs to the ground. You were always in love with the sight of his cock, even as it stood only half erect, you were eager to feel it against you, even though you were sick. He settled in behind you spreading his legs out on either side and pulling you into his strong chest. Nothing felt more relaxing than hot water and the warmth of Marc’s body at your back.

“Mmm, that’s nice.” You commented, snuggling in closer.

You felt his cock growing harder and longer against your spine. It was impossible to ignore, but you didn’t mind it.

“Sorry, we don’t have to do anything about it, I just can’t help it.” He said. You shifted against it, feeling the length of it run along your back. Marc moaned deeply. “Baby, unless you want me to make a mess in the tub, you gotta stop. Plus you’re sick. No, we’re not doing it.”

You thought Marc was cute when he tried to act like he wasn’t going to give in when you started teasing him. He always gave in. Even though you didn’t feel well, the arousal burning between your legs didn’t care. You wanted to feel him inside of you, sliding against your walls. You touched your fingertips to his knee, tracing gently back over his thigh and running them along his shaft at your spine. He churned upward at the feeling, followed by a needy groan.

“Baby, come on, you’re not feeling good and…oh shit.” He said as you closed your fist over it.

“Then make me feel good, Marc.” You urged.

“No, you’re sick…”

He trailed off as you arched your back, exposing your throat to him. Your hand stroked upward on his cock, forcing him to groan deeply with his hunger.

“Fuck, fine.” He grabbed your sides gently and lifted you.

You aligned his cock to your hole before he slowly slid you down over it. You both let out a breathy moan in unison. His hands squeezed onto your breasts tightly and you felt his face buried into your shoulder. He couldn’t pull you in closer if he wanted to. You felt him shudder against your entire body.

“Oh, Marc.” You whined, hating how congested your voice sounded.

He bucked his hips upward into you, using the firm hold he had on your tits to keep you in place while he thrusted. You felt so full from that position, he was in so deep. His cock split you, in two, stretching you out with every splash of the bathwater.

“That feel good, baby? You like that?” One of Marc’s hands pinched your nipple.

You winced, “yeah, oh shit.”

If there was one thing you wouldn’t say, for fear that the other two might get jealous, Marc knew how to fuck you the best. He knew just the way to tease your nipples, he knew how to suck your neck when you threw your head back over his shoulder, and he knew when it was time to reach one of his hands down and circle a finger around your clit. From that position he couldn’t move fast, but he could get deep, and he felt so, so good.

“You always know just what to do Marc.” You whispered, “you always know how to take good care of me.”

Marc moaned against your throat, “Yeah baby? Tell me how good I take care of you.”

“So good Marc.” You reached a hand up and tangled it into his hair. “The way you touch me is so…oh.”

His finger kept sliding over your sensitive bundle of nerves, drawing soft whimpers from your lips while he continued slowly sliding into you. You loved getting a hard, neck breaking fuck into the mattress most of the time, but there was something about the gentle intimacy here that was driving you insane. Marc was enjoying himself too, you could hear it in the way his breathing was becoming more rough and wrecked the longer he was inside of you.

“Yes, just like that.” You instructed, feeling a shift in the way his finger rotated.

“Like that baby? You like that?” He was thrusting a little faster now.

“Yeah, oh, Marc, you always know exactly what to do to get me to…to get me to…”

Maybe you pulled on his hair a little too tight, and maybe he would have bruises on his thigh in the morning from your strong grip, but you didn’t care. You were coming, and your body was shaking against his while you did. You yelled his name into the small bathroom, while your cunt contracted over him, squeezing his cock. 

“Fuck, baby, your pussy feels so good when you come. Shit.” He groaned, filling you with his heat.

The shooting spurts and his pleasured moans lasted a while, until you were certain there wasn’t any room left for more. When he finally was soft enough, his cock slipped out of you, and with it there were white strands floating in the water.

You chuckled, “well, so much for getting clean in the bath.”

“I’m not the one who wanted to act dirty.” He said, grunting as he got out of the tub.

“So you have to tell me,” you started, getting out of the tub as well, “what was with the sudden change in attitude?”

Marc smirked, “you’re going to think it’s dumb, but Jake was cocky at the store earlier, said you like your orange juice without pulp in it. It’s funny because he’s always acting like he’s better than me when it comes to you so…it was just amusing to hear that he was wrong.”

“Well, you can also knock Jake down a peg by telling him that you fuck the best.” You raised your eyebrows. “I shouldn’t have said that.” Marc pressed his lips together tightly, “probably not, but today is my day. You can talk to him about that later.”

A/N: I'm planning 2 more installments after this one :) I'm not sure when they'll be out so just stay tuned y'all.

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TAGLIST (please let me know if you would like to be added or removed): @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction, @my-secret-shame, @thatmomwitchfriend, @alexxavicry, @welcometostayingawake, @jake-g-lockley, @campingwiththecharmings, @steven-grants-world, @lia275, @ninebluehearts

[mooodyblue]

any day now | part two.

adn masterlist

summary: after a flight back from cali to memphis, elvis finds himself somehow stuck in your apartment in 2022.

warnings: time traveler!elvis, panic attacks, mentions of his death, may contain inaccuracies and typos.

wc: 2.9k

a/n: hi, if ya wanna be tagged in this fic, reply to this post and i'll be sure to add you to the taglist! no set schedule, trying to upload at least every two weeks.

you squinted your eyes at the bright light coming through the window, sitting up slowly and checking the time on your phone. but then you remembered. “elvis..” you gasped, shooting up quickly from the couch. your eyes wandered to your bedroom door, still closed. there was no sign of him waking up in the middle of the night, you didn't hear him either. not even for a glass of water.

you eventually gathered the courage to get up and stand in front of the door, pressing your ear against it. your heart sank, noticing there was no sound coming from the otherside. you turned the knob, preparing yourself for the worst.

“oh, good morning.” elvis said casually with a smile, book in his hands.

your jaw went agape, “y-you're still here?” you said, surprised. “did you even sleep?”

“just a few hours–better than none.” he shrugged, setting the book aside.

“and you're still here?!” you repeated.

he threw his hands up, “honey, i’m just as confused as you are.”

you stared at him in disbelief. now you're really regretting not buying that pullout couch when you first moved in. you let him have first dibs at the bathroom, allowing him to shower and come out smelling like your favorite floral body wash compared to his usual axe and muskier scents from what you've read online. afterwards, you made him coffee just like he liked it as well as breakfast–not even having to ask how he liked his eggs and bacon.

you set the plate in front of him as you took a seat in front of him at the table. he looked down at the plate, eyebrows furrowed. “how did you know?”

“everyone knows, trust me.”

the two of you sat in silence for a moment, enjoying breakfast quietly as you ran through your to-do list for the day. clearly elvis was going to be with you for awhile, at least you hoped. he needed clothes and maybe his own toiletries, but how?

you didn't want to bring attention to elvis and have people continue to question elvis's existence. it was a common myth that he was still alive–a stupid myth at that. you didn't want to add onto that, let alone in the middle of walmart. having elvis lay low for awhile would be the smart move, at least not until you were sure he'd be around for awhile. there was really no way of telling how long he'd be with you.

“you think there's somethin’ i gotta do in order to go back?” he interrupted your thoughts, taking a sip of his coffee.

you raised an eyebrow, “like what?”

“i don't know. do we kiss?”

you choked on your orange juice, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “excuse me?!”

“no! no-no, that's not—i mean!” he set his mug down, shaking his hands. “i-i-i meant like they do in fairy tales. like, a kiss wakin’ ‘em up.”

“i’m not kissing you.” you said sternly.

he looked at you in surprise, “you don't wanna kiss me?” he asked, shocked.

“why would i? we just met.”

he scratched the side of his head and scoffed. that wasn't something he was used to. everyone wanted a piece of him. “i’m not sayin’ i wanna kiss you either.” he said defensively. “it was just an idea. or maybe i need to hit my head again–if i did hit it, which i don't think i did.”

you rolled your eyes, “and i’m not letting you hit your head again.”

“are you gonna let me do anything?” he crossed his arms.

“i don't know, we'll see.” you stood up and took his empty plate. “you did spawn in my apartment after all.”

after back and forth banter and a clean up in the kitchen, you met back in the living room, pacing back and forth while elvis watched you from the sofa. you had to go back to work soon and god knows how you're going to manage leaving elvis at home by himself. for starters, he needed a phone. a way to contact you in case he accidentally started a fire from not knowing how to use something as simple as the air fryer. maybe a few books–ones he loved in his other life and ones you think he'd enjoy that you also liked. there was just so much to do. all this for him to possibly be gone tomorrow or the day after. but you still refused to talk to him about his death.

it was baffling how calm elvis was throughout all of this. why wasn't he freaking out? like he was okay with suddenly being in an entirely new world. you read books and watched documentaries but he was still a stranger in your home, but elvis was okay with that. it made no sense to you.

“honey-”

“what do you wanna know? apart from your death–what do you wanna know?” you asked suddenly, stopping in your tracks.

he sat back, sighing. “was i with anyone when it happened at least? where did they put me?”

you scoffed, “take my advice, do not go out with ginger.”

“ginger?” he raised an eyebrow.

“trust me. just don't do it.” you shook your head, crossing your arms. “you're resting at graceland.”

his lips perked up slightly, “graceland, huh?”

you sat next to him, giving him a small nod. you pulled out your phone, scrolling through your gallery until you came across your own photos at graceland, showing them off to him and swiping through slowly. the photos left elvis speechless, how his family was resting alongside him. he told you various stories as you showed him some of the rooms you got to see and brought up how surprised he was at how much different his home looks now compared to what it was back in the 60s.

elvis week, the birthday celebrations, annual events; he couldn't believe how loved he still was after all these years. you continued to tell him about his fans, records he broke after his passing, how there are literal stores and restaurants just dedicated to him. he sat there in silence, trying to fight back his tears. he was disbelief. “all these years–people still love me? t-they still listen to my music?”

you smiled at him. “more than ever. people of all ages, all over the country. they still love you.”

he shook his head in disbelief, sniffling a little as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “that's crazy.”

“which is why i don't..really think it's a good idea to have you leave. at least not yet. especially with this huge movie that just came out about you-”

“they made a movie?!” he exclaimed, sitting up.

“that’s not the point here! look, i’m gonna have to pick up some things for you and get you a phone which means i’m gonna have to leave you here home alone.” you stood up, hands on your hips. “and i don't exactly trust you with technology just yet.”

elvis scoffed, “i’m not a baby, honey. i can manage on my own. i’ll just read till you come back.”

and you prayed to god that he'd still be there when you got back.

while you searched retail and department stores for whatever you think elvis may enjoy(no jeans, nothing brown, lots of fun colors), elvis took this time to be nosy. to search around your little apartment in beverly hills that looked nothing like what he had back in his tiny world.

he had a one on one staring match with the reflection of what was now called a television. but he had to admit, it’s nice that he can now just watch his favorite movies whenever he wanted in the comfort of well-not his home, but somewhere that didn’t involve a whole process of renting out an entire movie theater. he wondered if the memphian was still around. not to mention, he can watch his favorite shows on a much larger screen and not the small ones he has back at graceland. he still couldn't fully grasp the meaning of streaming. is anyone really ‘streaming’ his old movies and concerts like you mentioned? he found that hard to believe.

then he came across your laptop. of course, not knowing what it was, he opened it, eyes widening in amazement at the lit up screen. “what the hell is a google….” he muttered to himself, eyes squinting as he navigated with the small, touchpad. he tapped on the search bar and looked down at the keyboard. he wanted to search himself so badly, the mystery behind his death and how touchy you were about it just eating him up inside. but it was better to hear it from you. despite only knowing you for a short amount of time, he trusted you more than whatever the hell google was. instead, he opted for typing in ‘time travel’, scoffing at the word fiction being in the definition. “if it ain't real then how did i get here?” he asked to no one.

he ended up reading the entire wikipedia page which was really no help to him. he didn't come by a time machine or a wormhole, just a bunch of big words that gave him no answers. he found the website fascinating though, somehow going from reading about black holes to reading about the history of microwave ovens. but he was still worried about finding himself on there and quickly clicked away.

elvis really didn't mean to pry all that much. he wasn't aware of social media, he didn't know what he was getting himself into when he tapped the little ‘facebook’ bookmark. you did in fact, have an ex. definitely could have done better. he scrolled a bit too far down your profile, coming across a photo of him that you once shared of him in the 70s. “ain't no way that's me….” he said in disbelief, enlarging the photo. “well, i’ll be damned.” he quickly closed out, shutting your laptop and shaking his head.

he looked at the framed photos you had around, studying your family and friends that you seemed to be close to. he was happy to see you had a good relationship with them, family was important to him too.

his lip curled up slightly at the various records you had in the corner, ranging from today’s artists to some of his very own. you'd have to play them for him one day. he hated listening to his own records but he was curious about the ones he had yet to record.

there were so many questions still lingering in his mind, would he even be able to leave the house at all? maybe this was his chance to start over, to have a new life. maybe you were supposed to be his soulmate and that's how he ended up in your presence. or perhaps it's just a wake up call to warn him about his future. who knows, he wish he knew. all he could do was pray and hope for the best.

when you returned, hands full with bags, elvis quickly took them from your hands and set them on the counter. he felt bad about the clothes you bought him and the phone and everything else–he's normally the one to buy people things. however, every piece of clothing, it was so him. you nailed him perfectly.

“–and i know you hate denim, like really hate it. but…” you pulled out a denim jacket from the bag, holding it up. “thought this would look nice on you. but i can always take it back.”

“god, you didn't have to do all this for me…” he said, flustered. “you’re too kind.”

you flashed him a smile, “i’m gonna set up your phone so you can….”

“i opened your…your thing.” he blurted out.

“my thing?”

“yeah…that…that thing.” he said again, pointing at your laptop.

you turned around, glancing at it sitting on the counter. “i didn’t look up myself! swear! i-i did see a photo of me but i quickly clicked away.” he defended, panic in his voice.

“how did you even know how to use it?” you picked up your laptop, putting it away in your bedroom.

“i just…pressed buttons.” he watched you move across the room, eventually sitting down at the counter. “i’m sorry.”

“you get nothing out of being nosy.” you sighed.

elvis was still curious about that photo he saw of himself, keeping his concerns to himself.

he got curiouser and curiouser as the week went on, always waking up in surprise to see he wasn't in his bed. you went back to work and he was stuck at what he now calls home, watching shows you had told him about and eating whatever in the fridge was microwaveable. but he didn't know who he was more interested in; his future or you.

there was something about you that intrigued him. you weren't jumping at him like most fans would do, not a single request from him. every person he’d ever met or become friends with had wanted something from him whether it’d be a new house, a car, an autograph or just money. granted, he left all his money back in memphis along with everything else. ugh, was he going to have to get another id? like people would believe that he was actually elvis presley. you did mention to him that some of his friends were still alive, maybe jerry could help him out. but then again, finding out your best friend who's been dead for over forty years is alive but at the same time not really alive just may be a bit too much for one to handle.

but he missed his home. his bed, his horses, the people he saw every single day. he was never alone. this was almost terrifying for him and he doesn't know how he’s going to continue to deal with being alone for long periods a day while you're gone. he’s a very lonely person in general, but not a day went by when he wasn't with someone. being with someone helped him not get too much in his head; much like what he's doing right now.

why was he here? is this god’s way of punishing him for something? he had plans, he had movies to film, there had to be some sort of explanation. you won't even tell him how he died for christ's sake. there’s something missing, a missing puzzle piece. every single night he now goes to bed wondering if that would be the last time he would ever see your face. he doesn't want to forget you or your face, but he wants to go home.

this was all too much for him. he can’t do this, he can't be here and get attached. nobody is going to believe him if he ever went back, but what if he never goes back? would it be for the better?

so many questions were lingering in his brain, giving him a overwhelming feeling. he felt himself begin to panic, shaking his head as he rested it in his hands. his chest felt heavy, panting and panicking. then his heart began to quicken, making it hard for him to control his own breathing.

“elvis? you still here?”

your voice was muffled, a loud ringing in his ears. “elvis?” he looked at you, panicked with a hand over his chest. “hey, hey. i’m here, what's going on?” you sunk down to your knees, meeting him eye level on the couch. “look at me, deep breaths.”

“i-it's hard, i-i can’t-” he panted.

“yes you can. c’mon breathe with me.” you rested a hand on his knee, taking a deep breath in and then a deep breath out.

he followed and repeated after you, doing it until he could feel his heart beat normally again. “god…i-i…i..” he let out a shaky breath.

“el, i think you just had a panic attack.” you breathed, rubbing his knee softly. “thank god i came home in time.”

there was a look of worry on his face. he couldn't remember the last time he had a panic attack. sure, he had a little bit of anxiety before filming his special but he didn't get that bad. “i’m so scared.” he finally admitted, his voice slightly cracking. “so fuckin’ scared.”

you stood up and sat beside elvis, facing him. “what are you scared of?”

“i don't know.”

you let out a small hum, rubbing his back. “that's okay.” you reassured. “we’ll get through it. i’ll help you. there's a reason why you’re here and we’re gonna figure that out.”

he looked down, nervously picking at his nails and fidgeting with the nonexistent rings on his fingers out of habit. “takin’ up too much space in here.”

“no you're not, elvis. look at me.” you turned his head, his sad eyes locking with yours. “i’m not giving up on you. it's only been a week. we’re just taking this one day at a time.”

for the first time in that week he’d been with you, he got a good look at your eyes. he gave you a soft smile, the infamous half grin you’d see photos of everywhere online. suddenly, he found himself slightly excited. excited to learn about you, your story. you were right, there was a reason he was there with you.

maybe, just maybe, that reason was you.

tags: @elvisalltheway101 @prompted-wordsmith @plasticfantasticl0ver @18lkpeters @notstefaniepresley @presleyenterprise @kiankiwi

[yin-yanglulu]

Comfort

Rating: General Audiences

Category: M/F

Fandom: Skylanders (Video Games)

Relationship: Cali/Flynn (Skylanders)

Characters: Cali (Skylanders), Flynn (Skylanders)

Additional Tags: Mutual Pining & Comfort

“Flynn?” Cali asked.

“Yeah!” Flynn replied.

“Can you help me and Hugo with the campfire please?” Cali said.

“Righty-o!” Flynn said with his usual smile.

The three of them were currently being imprisoned by Count Moneybone as part of Kaos’ Sky Eater attack.

They had managed to find some wood left behind by the guards, and managed to steal it to make a campfire for the night.

“We’ll need to be quick making this, don’t wanna attract Moneybone’s attention” Cali said as she pulled a box of matches out of her pocket and tossed a matchstick into the campfire.

“Where have you been keeping those?” Flynn asked.

“I can fit a lot in my pockets, heh!” Cali chuckled.

“It’s a good thing the guards forgot to take away anything useful!” Hugo said.

“Guess that Moneybone guy wanted to get us locked up as fast as possible” Flynn said, “Which is good because I ain’t got any enchiladas on me!” He added.

“I’ll get some rest if we’re supposed to be getting a message from Eon soon” Hugo said, finding a comfortable position to sleep in.

“Okay, guess I’ll stay up a little longer!” Cali said.

“Me too!” Flynn replied.

Cali chuckled at him, and her face turned serious.

“Is something wrong Cal?” Flynn asked, noticing the change in her facial expression.

“I’m…I know this might sound odd for me…but I’m scared” Cali sighed.

“Moneybone’s involvement bringing back bad memories huh?” Flynn replied.

“Mhm…” Cali mumbled.

“I still hate that jerk for what he did to us…” Flynn said, thinking about when Moneybone crashed his celebration and kidnapped Cali.

“Y’know…I’m always here for you…” Flynn whispered, gently brushing Cali’s hand.

“Thanks…I’m gonna go get some rest now…” Cali said, beginning to lie down to get some sleep.

“Goodnight!” Flynn said, moving away from Cali and finding a space to rest.

“Hey Cal? You still awake?” Flynn asked.

Cali was already fast asleep.

“Oh right…heh…” Flynn whispered.

The next morning, the three of them were taken outside their prison cell for questioning on where the rest of their friends were hiding.

After a very unsuccessful questioning on the general’s part, they went taken back to their cell for the day.

Hugo was reading his book, while Flynn was sat with Cali.

“What’s that book?” Flynn asked.

“Oh, it’s a sketchbook, I only use it every once in a while” Cali answered.

“You gonna draw in it or somethin’?” Flynn said.

“Mhm, if you want me to!” Cali replied.

“How about you draw…me!” Flynn said laughing, Cali rolled her eyes at him.

“Sure!” Cali said.

She opened the notebook and began drawing him.

A while later, she was done with the drawing.

“Annnd here!” Cali said, showing Flynn the drawing.

“Pretty good, you managed to capture my amazing looks~” Flynn said teasingly.

“What else have you drawn?” He added.

“Uhhhh nothing really interesting!” Cali said, closing her notebook, seemingly embarrassed by something.

“Okay!” Flynn said.

A few hours went by, and they decided to rest for the night.

Luckily a rebelling guard managed to give them some blankets and pillows, although it resulted in the guard getting taken away.

Hugo was the first one to fall asleep, Cali and Flynn stayed up a little longer.

“As much as it sucks being stuck in here, I think being stuck with you two is making things a little better!” Cali said.

“Really?” Flynn asked.

“Yeah…” Cali replied.

“Did you ever think you’d end up with a job like this as a kid?” She asked.

“Not really, I knew I’d be a pilot but…wasn’t expecting to be helping the Skylanders!” Flynn answered.

“With the amount of time I’ve spent getting to know you over the years, you’re not bad, not that you were ever bad at all!” Cali said.

“Glad to hear it, you’re pretty cool too!” Flynn replied.

“Hm…thanks…” Cali said, her cheeks turning the slightest shade of red.

The two of them felt their hands touching slightly, and both pulled away awkwardly.

“Goodnight!” Flynn said.

“You too!” Cali replied.

The next morning, they were taken to breakfast in the prison’s cafeteria, and were brought back shortly afterwards.

“Eon must be contacting us at some point, I’m starting to get worried!” Hugo said as he kept reading his book.

“I’m sure he’ll contact us soon!” Cali replied.

Flynn was sat close to them, pondering something.

“You alright Flynn?” Cali said.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to give you…” Flynn said, pulling something from inside of his jacket.

He had pulled out a necklace, it was made out of red, pink and green beads.

“You made a necklace?” Cali asked.

“I found this in a random shop, I thought you’d like it, I meant to give it to you on your birthday, but I forgot” Flynn replied.

“I like it! Thanks!” Cali said, taking the necklace from him and putting it around her neck.

A while after, they were brought out of their cells for mugshots.

Cali was sat next to an older female mabu, the lady was looking at her necklace.

“Aww! Did your betrothed give you that?” The mabu asked.

“What do you mean?” Cali replied.

“The colours of your necklace, they mean something!” The mabu said.

“The green beads symbolise platonic love, the pink beads symbolise first love, and the red beads symbolise romantic love!” She added.

“Oh…I didn’t know that!” Cali said, looking at the necklace, blushing with embarrassment.

“Maybe Flynn didn’t know about the colour symbolism” She thought.

“They’re common types of necklace bead colours for when someone is engaged or married” The old woman said.

“Ah, right!” Cali replied.

“Who gave it to you?” The mabu asked.

“My friend…” Cali answered.

“Ah! was it the loud one in the aviator jacket?” The lady said.

“Yes…” Cali mumbled.

“Hm, maybe he’s trying to tell you something, but can’t say it out loud because he’s nervous” the lady replied.

“Hey! Hands off the jacket!” Flynn shouted at one of the guards who dragged him out the mugshot room.

“You alright?” Cali asked.

“It’s nothing Cal, best not to annoy them” Flynn said.

“I think you’re up next” He added.

“Okay!” Cali said, walking into the mugshot room.

“Were you the one who gave her that necklace?” The old lady said.

“Yeah…” Flynn replied.

“Do you know what the beads on it symbolise?” She asked.

“No” said Flynn.

“The green means platonic love…”

“Yeah…I think she’s pretty cool!”

“And the pink and the red symbolise first love and romantic love…”

“Oh…I didn’t know that…” Flynn said blushing.

“Do you like her in that way?” The elder mabu asked.

“Yeah…don’t tell her though…I’ve been wanting to tell her that myself…but I’m nervous…what if she doesn’t like me back…” Flynn answered.

“Well…I think there’s a good chance she does, she seems to really care about you!” The woman replied.

A while after they got their mugshots taken, they went back to their cell for the night.

“Flynn?” Cali said.

“Hm?” Flynn asked.

“Can I stay with you for the night?” Cali asked.

“Sure…” Flynn answered.

Cali lay down with her pillow and blanket, and snuggled up to him.

“It’s cold in here huh?” Flynn said.

“Mhm, though resting here is keeping me warm!” Cali whispered.

“Good to know!” Flynn whispered back.

They fell asleep, keeping each other warm and safe.

The next morning, they could hear a loud sound coming from the speakers.

It was Count Moneybone announcing Eon’s imprisonment in the Land Of The Undead.

Hugo was busy trying to contact the portal master on Earth, but was struggling due to Kaos cutting off connections to Earth.

Flynn and Cali has been woken up by the announcement, not even noticing they were holding onto each other.

“Oh! sorry!” Flynn said, letting go of Cali.

“It’s fine!” Cali replied.

“Are you trying to contact the portal master Hugo?” She added.

“Yes, you two might wanna come see this!” Hugo replied.

The three of them had been imprisoned for days, slowly losing hope of Skylands being saved.

Now was their only chance at finding help.

The End.

[scorchedhearth]

Day. 29 WHAT DOESN'T KILL ME…

Sleep Deprivation | Defiance | “Better me than you.”

always thinking about this panel on the glc 80th-anniversary book where john is the only one out of the three to know why guy truly acts the way he does, i think about it often

“Pussies!” Guy yells as he’s thrown on the floor of their shared cell. Or tries to, with the way the wind’s knocked out of his lung with the impact he makes on the ground. “Just a bunch of pussies, my granda hits harder than you do!” The door is closed before he can finish his speech, and John stares at him from where he’s sitting on one of the rock benches they have in the room. 

“Hey, Johnny,” Guy tilts his head enough to grace John with a bloody grin and half his face swollen. “Didn’t see ya there.”

“Are you proud of yourself?” Is all John can say, arms crossed over his chest and staring down at him. Guy slowly pushes himself onto his knees, then on his backside, sitting with his elbows on his knees, one hand rubbing at the back of his head and the swelling still there from a bad hit on the wall.

It’s been going on for days now, ever since they were caught and thrown here. Guy will shout the loudest, make as much noise as humanly possible and get the ire of their captors on himself, he gets the beating and harsh words and rough manhandling whenever he pisses them off too much. John is getting tired of that.

“What d’ya think,” Guy drawls and puffs out his chest. “Got a few hits of my own, ya know. Those assholes may live in yellow world but I still have those guns.” He picks his arms up and flexes them, going so far as to kiss each of his biceps and John will not survive this, he will not survive this mission with Guy, he won’t.

He wouldn’t even be in this mess if it were for Guy asking to tag along what was supposed to be a short trip, if it weren’t for the delay it caused and an unexpected asteroid storm pushing them off course and crashing them here, a planet notoriously known for its distrustful population. John is convinced this is some kind of cosmic joke. Guy says it’s karma, but John knows no one deserve to be locked up in the same room as him. Certainly not John.

He’s tired, he’s letting down a whole lot of people who need him for the information he was supposed to gather a galaxy away from here and Guy is not helping.

“Will you stop this!” he yells, days of anxious waiting and frustration catching up on him. “It’s just you and me here, you can stop the tough guy routine. You got something to prove? It’s not to me, and it’s not here.” Guy is staring at him, mouth opening for a second before he clenches his jaw, which somehow spurs him into saying more.

“Here, let me say this so you can go on with your life: you’re the toughest guy, happy! You can take so many hits and punch back, that’s impressive, amazing.” John grits out with as much sarcasm as he can muster, claps his hands twice. “Congratulations, Guy Gardner! Will you stop antagonizing those people out there and help me make a plan to get outta here? Make yourself useful maybe?” By the time he’s done, John is on his feet, panting, with a finger jammed into Guy’s chest, glaring at him. When did he stand up, when did Guy stand up, he has no idea. He keeps staring at Guy, he’s gotten so far, it will feel stupid to backtrack first. 

“You think it’s about me? You think I’m tryna prove somethin’? Ya don’t know the first thing ‘bout me.” He grunts and shoves his hand away. “‘m buyin’ us time, so shut ya mouth and be grateful!”

“I give up,” John says, he knows it sounds whiny but he doesn't care, there’s no winning with him, it’s impossible. He’s a smart-ass who’s louder and thus always wins those arguments by simply being too stubborn to admit he’s wrong. John swiftly turns around and heads back to the bench, sitting down with his pulse still going fast and strong in his chest.

He’s not sure how much time passed before he hears Guy shuffling around and cracking his knuckles before he speaks again, saying something unexpected. “Just you ‘n’ me, you said. Right?” And John has always been curious. He likes to know, he likes to understand and make sense of things and people. Of course he opens his eyes and looks at Guy once again, his tense shoulders and bunched-up fists.

“That’s what I said. Only you and me here.”

“I know what people say,” he shuffles again and goes to sit on the other bench facing John. “I don’t like gettin’ hit. I don’t!” he insists when John raises a doubtful eyebrow. “I don’t. Sure I’m loud, ‘n’ annoying. But I’m not stupid.”

“Why, then,” John prompts.

“‘cause better me than you,” he looks up with a small, not hesitant but subdued smile and it is such a strange sight on Guy’s rough, always so expressive face. “You’re a good guy, John.” he continues. “‘N. You know. I like ya, despite being such a stuck-up ass, I like ya. You’re a good man,” he repeats, stumbling over his words. “If they hit me, they’re not hittin’ you. Easy choice, all things considered, don’t cha think?”

“Guy…” John lets his head fall on the wall behind him, closes his eyes for a second, just a moment.

“I’m not stupid but I know what I’m good at, ya know,” he’s still talking, like he can’t stop getting this all out. “Ain’t no kick that can keep me down, not even from ugly motherfuckers like the ones out there. If they’re hittin’ me, they’re not hittin’ ya.” He repeats quietly and John has to look at him then, his thrice broken nose and big face and mismatched ears 

“You have one messed up way of showing love, you know that?” he says, and that gets a laugh out of him, a short, loud thing he barks out, like he always does.

John gets it, in some ways. There’s a reason there’s a ring on his finger, why he volunteered to go light years away from earth to get some vital information instead of Clark. There’s a reason he does what he does, going out face baren like the one looking at him from the other side of the room, a reason he says his name and puts himself in front of others. It's only that he would have never guessed it was so similar to Guy’s reasons.

[bradshawsbaby]

SPEAK NOW (TV) WRITING TAG GAME! 💜

Rules: Claim a Speak Now (Taylor’s Version) song for your fic pairings!

Thank you for the tag, @whisperofsong 🥰 This was so fun!

Pairings and songs below the cut!

Bradley & Mrs. Bradshaw - Enchanted

This one makes me think of those early days when Bradley and Mrs. Bradshaw first met at The Hard Deck!

Your eyes whispered, "Have we met?"

'Cross the room your silhouette

Starts to make its way to me

The playful conversation starts

Counter all your quick remarks

Like passing notes in secrecy

And it was enchanting to meet you

All I can say is, I was enchanted to meet you

Hangman & Phoenix - I Can See You

This song was literally written for Hannix during their FWB Era!!!

And we kept everything professional

But something's changed, it's somethin' I, I like

They keep watchful eyes on us

So it's best that we move fast and keep quiet

You won't believe half the things I see inside my head

Wait 'til you see half the things that haven't happened yet

Rhett & Honeybee - Long Live

Classic childhood friends to lovers!

You held your head like a hero

On a history book page

It was the end of a decade

But the start of an age

Long live the walls we crashed through

How the kingdom lights shined just for me and you

I was screaming, "Long live all the magic we made"

And bring on all the pretenders

One day we will be remembered

Bobby & Peach - Timeless

Again, Taylor Swift wrote this song just for them!

And, somehow, I know that you and I would've found each other

In another life, you still would've turned my head even if we'd met

On a crowded street in 1944

And you were headed off to fight in the war

You still would've been mine

We would have been timeless

I would've read your love letters every single night

And prayed to God you'd be comin' home all right

And you would've been fine

We would have been timeless

Gallus & Sabina - Electric Touch

They need each other 🥲

I've got my money on things goin' badly

Got a history of stories ending sadly

Still hoping that the fire won't burn me

Just one time, just one time

All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life

Got a feelin' your electric touch could fill this ghost town up with life

And I want you now, wanna need you forever

In the heat of your electric touch

Rooster & Miss Honey (Coming Soon 😉) - When Emma Falls in Love

A little hint at the new upcoming series!

Emma met a boy with eyes like a man

Turns out her heart fits right in the palm of his hand

Now he'll be her shelter when it rains

Little does he know, his whole world's about to change

Tagging: Anyone who would like to participate! I know not everyone is necessarily a T. Swift fan and that a lot of people have been tagged already, so take this as your invitation if you haven’t done it yet and would like to!

[lady-grace-pens]

Foad Excerpt [7]

It’s been a whole ass month since I shared a raw snippet lmao oops

I got my writing mojo back and I’m making good progress though! I just hit 31k today ☺️ Here’s a snippet in honor of it. It’s probably longer than what I should be sharing, but fuck it! In honor of the milestone, we ball.

All fluff between Emily, Arthur, and Ilya as they relax at a garden party being held at the uni. This is actually one of my favorite scenes so far. I almost shared the more angsty, climactic half of it but I just shared some angst in the word search tag I did a few days ago. Plus I don’t want to spoil too much ;)

Taglist: @wordwizards @flowerprose

•••

I run my fingers along the sides of a heaping glass of sweet tea bought from the refreshments table. Arthur, at my request, fans me with Ilya’s book—a copy of an old Russian novel none of us are familiar with. It isn’t long before he fumbles with his pockets, taking out a silver coin. Be flips it in the air before sliding it across the table. “A penny for your rose, Ilya, what do you say?”

Ilya pushes all his spare flowers towards us. “Take ‘em all. I’m done anyway.”

Arthur plucks a rose from his pile. Using a pocket knife, he cuts the stem little over halfway, and whittles away all the remaining thorns. Meanwhile, Ilya weaves the last stem into his crown.

“Lovely work.”

Arthur glances up from his work. “Quite. How’d you learn something like that anyway? Pardon if I’m wrong, but you don’t strike me as the artistic type of fellow.”

“I’m not. I picked it up to surprise Cal.”

“Aw, isn’t that lovely? You know, that reminds me of a bloke I once knew back in secondary. This was after I went back. Big sort of school, so new kids weren’t at all uncommon. But this fellow—he was the beefy sort of type, you know. Rugby player. Thing is, he had the most demanding witch of a girlfriend…”

The rest of their talk melts into a slush pooling at the sides of my sweating tea glass. The rich brown liquid is a prism catching the few strands of sunlight that peek beneath our umbrella. On the table, it projects glimmering visions of Matthieu’s eyes.

His absence hasn’t been lost on me. I must’ve given him a dozen reminders of this event within the past three days alone. My hair has gone white stressing the significance to him, not that he isn’t already aware. The Agricultural Society is the backbone of Ravnna’s funding. Our pride. This is their chance to display the fruits of their monumental care for their craft. If not for the sake of nature, I would’ve at least expected him to at least come for that. The fact that it means something to the people he cares about. But low and behold, what does the man text me this morning?

“Sorry babe I’m gonna be late. Y’all go without me.”

A simple line without a rhyme nor reason. While a late entrance would be superior to his complete absence, I’m still expecting a strong excuse.

I check my phone. Nothing new. Only the time shifting.

“Haven’t heard from Matt, have you?” Ilya asks.

I cross my arms. “He told me he’d be late, but he never said how late. God only knows if he’s planning to show up at all.”

“Depends on how bad his uncle needs him.”

“That’s what he blew this off for?” I slam my wedges against the ground. “Fuck. I’m happy it’s not anything else, but… Dear Lord. They act like those trees are going to sprout legs and walk away.”

Arthur and Ilya share a laugh.

“You act like he didn’t tell you or somethin’.”

“He didn’t.”

“Logger, isn’t he?” Arthur takes a sip of my tea.

“Yes. Also that’s my drink.”

“But I bought it with my money, love. Technically it’s mine.”

I twirl my hair and give him my richest fake laugh. He rests his elbow on the back of my chair, all pride and playfulness. Speaking again. I fall deadpan.

“Careful with the roses, love, some of them have thorns.”

Arthur, unchanging, returns to his pruning. “And some like to think their thorns are much sharper than they realize.”

Ilya breaks out in a fit of laughter. I’m shocked he isn’t falling with how harshly he’s leaning back.

“Oh quit your laughter over there!” I snatch one of the thorn-laden stems Arthur broke off and throw it at him. “It wasn’t that funny.”

“Yes it was.”

Your smile says it all, dearest,” purrs Arthur.

“You—“ I slap his shoulder. “Shut up! This isn’t a smile. Even if it was, it’s surely from the heat and nothing else. God knows that joke was so dry, I can hear my Grandpappy coughing.”

Ilya keels over the chair next to him. “Oh my God, Em.”

Arthur, groaning, buries his head in his hands. At this point, I can’t resist my lips springing up like the flowers surrounding us.

“Lord almighty, this entire conversation has to be cleansed.”

“Hand me my book, Em,” asks Ilya as his hand pops up from the table.

My lungs birth a half-formed laugh that more so resembles a breath of air. I throw his book across the table.

“Too lazy to fetch it yourself, huh?”

“Damn right.”

Arthur clears his throat. Between his fingers, he twirls the freshly cut, dethroned English rose. He says nothing but wears a smile—go figure. Is there some sort of question he’s expecting me to answer? Perhaps a continuity error between the strands of silk petals? Before I can ask him such, he raises the rose to my ear, intertwining it with my curls.

“Love,” he says while his breath, like the late summer sun, tantalizes my skin. “Won’t you take a walk with me? For the better part of an hour, all you’ve done is sit here waiting for the likes of some guy to show up. Take a look at where you are, darling, we’re in paradise! I don’t want to see you wasting any more time not savoring it.”

My heart is exiled to my guts, where it becomes a feast for the wriggling maggots churning my intestines. I reach for my phone. If Matthieu catches me alone with him… The thought of that possibility is enough to bring me chills. It’s best if I wait here for him, really, but… without any news of his arrival… I could very well be damned to this chair for another hour before I get so much as a text claiming he’s on his way. In the grand scheme of things, what is a brief little distraction?

[zanarkandskylines]

Burn Out

『♡』  pro-hero fem!reader  x pro-hero bakugo ╰➤ ꒰ pro-hero au | engaged | aged to 23 | bakugo POV! ꒱ -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist 

summary: Japan’s #4 Hero, Dynamight, is holding (forced by his agency) a meet and greet with fans - for the fifth time this year - by popular demand. The only difference? It’s three hours longer than the previous four. tags & warnings: fluff, soft bakugo, pro-hero bakugo, reader has a quirk & is also a pro hero, reader & bakugo are engaged! a/n: i thought the idea of reader waiting in line every time he has a meet and greet was such a cute gesture and relaxes him when he’s overwhelmed by fans :) ꒰ Ao3 version | word count; 1,300 ꒱

“I really gotta do this shit for 4 hours?!”

“Sorry, Dynamight. It’s standard hours for meet and greets, plus you get the exposure to retain popularity amongst the public.”

God, what a fuckin’ joke.

How the hell does Deku do this all the time? I’m not a people person, end of story. I’ll sign shit and let them sell it, but actually meeting people? My goddamn nightmare. Especially the damn fan girls, they’re rabid fuckin’ animals. I hate when people only see me a piece of goddamn meat and not a top rated hero.

“Why are you still here?” This agency lady is really pissin’ me off. What the hell else does she want from me?

“Just going over the logistics. You’ll be hosting at a store in Shibuya Crossing from 1PM to 5PM tomorrow. You’ll be doing signatures on pre-approved official photos. We’ll meet at the agency at noon and you’ll get suited up.”

I hate these stupid publicity pricks.

“Can’t I just sign ‘em and you sell ‘em? I really gotta do it in person?”

“No can do, you know the process by now. The hours are just extended to allow as many fans access as we can.”

Why the fuck do fans need “access” to me? They don’t. I’ve got better shit to do.

“Whatever. See ya tomorrow.”

───

It’s almost 1PM and I’m already fuckin’ over being here. Nonstop “do this, not that,” “don’t take too long,” “don’t accept large gifts,” blah blah blah. It’s a damn signing, not a conference, I shouldn’t need to follow some stupid rule book.

“Before settling in for a grueling four goddamn hours, I gotta call my fiancé.”

“Make it fast, you’re set to start in 15.”

Was it an excuse to talk to her? Hell yeah it was. I didn’t need to call her for shit, I needed to get the hell away from that agency lady before I said shit I can’t take back.

Really wish she could sit here with me instead of with the agent with stick up her ass.

───

[y/n] Hey babe, what’s up? I thought your meet and greet was happening now? [Bakugo] Yeah, in 15 minutes. I needed to step out before I sit here for four fuckin’ hours. What are you up to? Sounds like you’re outside or somethin’. [y/n] Nothing really, grocery shopping and boring stuff. Are you nervous? [Bakugo] Me, nervous? Fuck no. I just don’t wanna be here for that long. It’s exhausting. [y/n] I don’t blame you, the last few were much shorter. Do you need me to bring you anything? [Bakugo] Even if you did, I don’t think they’d let me take it from ya. [y/n] That’s so annoying. It’s not like I’m a stranger. [Bakugo] Y’would think so. Fu-dammit, sorry baby, but I gotta cut ya short. This agency bitch has been breathin’ down my neck all week. [y/n] It’s alright. Make sure those fan girls don’t take all of you, I still want my share of the number 4 hero! [Bakugo] Hah, y’know you’re the only one who gets that. I’ll talk to you later baby, love you. [y/n] Love you too, good luck!

──���

I. Am. So. Fucking. Tired.

If I hear another person screech over me just looking at them? I’m gonna lose my damn mind - and it’s only 2:30PM.

“Dynamight! You’re my favorite hero, thank you for signing this!”

At least most of the kids that showed up weren’t loud and annoyin’ brats.

“Thanks, appreciate th’ support.”

I’ve signed my name so many damn times that it’s starting to look like gibberish. They wouldn’t even let me use a stamp or some shit like that. Y’think that would appeal to their “access” plan if more people could come and go if it meant signing this shit faster.

───

3:45PM.

Fifteen. More. Minutes.

Exhausted is a goddamn understatement. I don’t wanna talk to anyone for the next 24 hours when this is over.

I’m grabbing the next poster from the agent, tunnel visioned on gettin’ the fuck outta here, when a familiar voice catches my attention.

“Hiya Dynamight!”

I can’t help but laugh. Did she really stand in line this whole time?

“The hell you doin’ here?”

She’s dressed head to toe in my merch - sweatshirt from the winter line, joggers from the athletic set, even her damn shoes are the limited release sneakers from the crossover line with Deku.

“Just supporting my favorite hero. I’d love if you could personalize my poster.”

God, I love this woman.

“Hah, y’got it.”

To my favorite hero, y/h/n, my shining star - love, dynamight

I slide it over the table to her and the look on her face is priceless. Her smile never fails to brighten my day, no matter how shitty it is. Really feels like no one else is here but her in the moment.

“This’ll be worth at least $50 online. Thanks!”

“Hey! That’s special, idiot.”

“I’m kidding, Ka-Dynamight.”

“Did ya wait in line this whole time?”

“I did! I wasn’t shopping earlier, I was in line for you. I wanted to support my soon-to-be husband.”

The high school girl behind her makes a face when she says “husband.” It’s not like our engagement is a damn secret. Can’t help but shoot her a dirty look, hoping she gets the “fuck off” memo.

“Dynamight, 5 minutes until we wrap.”

“Back off! It’s my damn fiancé. I’ll take as long as I want.”

All I wanna do is jump over this table, throw her over my shoulder and blast our way home. Dive onto the couch, crammed together against the cushions and pass the fuck out to the sound of TV static.

“It’s okay, I’ll let you go.”

She leans over the table to whisper, “I’ll see you at home, baby. Love you!”

I don’t really care who hears. I shouldn’t have to fuckin’ whisper to my soon-to-be wife in public.

“Love you too. Thanks, sweets. You’re the best.”

Fuck, her ass looks damn good in those joggers. I’ll never get tired of watching her walk away. The way she sways her hips when she walks is dangerous game for me.

“Alright, Dynamight. Last one.”

Thank fucking god.

“Hey, thanks for-”

“Was that your fiancé?”

These damn high school girls are such a pain in the ass.

“…yes. What of it?”

“Isn’t she, like, number 42 or something super low ranked?”

Not fallin’ for whatever shit she’s trying to pull. I sign the poster and slide it over to her, hoping she shuts the hell up and leaves.

“What, I can’t get a personalized photo like her?”

Well, she asked for it.

“Fine, give it back.”

number 42 and still better than you. fuck you - dynamight

I shove the poster back to her roughly on purpose, crinkling the edge against her stupid long claws-for-nails that were tapping impatiently on the table.

“Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. Learn some damn manners.”

I don't feel any remorse as the stupid agent starts scolding me for "mistreating fans." The brat had it comin', what can I say?

"I'm outta here. Later."

"Wait, Dynamight, you need to -"

"No, I don't. Not my problem. I'm done."

───

Finally, home sweet home. "Hey baby, I'm home."

"Hey Kats! Made you some early dinner on the stove and the blanket is nice and toasty for you."

When did she even have time to do that? It's only been 45 minutes.

"Damn, what are ya, superwoman?"

"Hah, I wish. Have you checked your phone yet?"

"...No, why?"

She laughs. "#dynamight is trending again. Somethin' about you signing 'fuck off' on a fan's poster?"

Oops.

"Yeah, well I -"

"Fuck her, she's lucky I didn't smack her upside the head."

And that's why I'm marrying her.

Just a cute little "Bakugo hates people" fluff lol

[anachronistic-falsehood]

u have opened the floodgates i love talkimg abt max i think about him so much dude. hes so cool

SILLY LITTLE GUY. they are. ex eom <3 taken in as an orphan and given unethetical human experiments u know the drill !! except smth went wrong and while he got the ability to perfectly mimic voices/sounds and has enhanced stamina he did not get the whole. healing thing. hes not very sturdy the experiments did not Fix Him (go figure.) BUT. they obv know that showing any sort of weakness will lead to death or worse so they train extra extra hard and hoard healing serum (<< inspired by the part in tristamp where ww has a stash of them hidden under the floor) so it seems like he works the same as everybody else. he has shit eyesight but again cannot let anyone know this so instead of guns he uses knives :] u cn kinda see one up in the top gorner there hes got 2 of these big cross shaped knives (here is an imahe from pinterest i thought was cool)

uhhhhh what else. i played around w the idea of him being a gungho gun at one point too mainly bc i just really want someone to punch legato in the face. etc etc he escapes from the eom somehow and now just kinda. wanders around doing his own thing . my friend monty also has a trigun oc who is a reporter so we've talked abt them tagging along w max to get the real scoop on what the eom was like hehe !! personality wise he issss. quiet (doesnt use his normal voice a whole lot bc his whole. mercenary job was centered around mimicking other people) street smart but NOT book smart (picturing them in a library is fun hehe.. squinting and concentrating so very hard on history books and being like. his ass is NOT reading!!!) and i think they also have a huge soft spot for the thomases (tomas? tomases? the big fuckin bird things i never know the right plural)

SORRY THAT WAS. SO MUCH LONGER THAN I THOUGHT. I LOVE MY SILL Y LITTLE GUY I JUST THINK HES NEAT.

I LOVE UR SILLY LITTLE GUY I LOVE THEM SO MUCH. I WAS OVERCOME WITH THE NEED 2 DOODLE MAX AND JACK INTERACTING

jack is def book smart but not street smart. if they joined monty’s sona and max on their adventure they would be oh so scared all the time forever <3 they would probably hate an adventure at first but then get sad when they have 2 go home. they also love animals esp the tomas (i too do not know the plural or the spelling for them) so they would get along with max in that regard. also they like worms :3 bc i LOVE bugs and every single sona of mine needs 2 have a strange fascination with bugs

LOVE THE CROSS SHAPED KNIFE!!! oh that is the coolest. the baddest bitch out there. jack is also v quiet unless u get them talking abt somethin they like in which case they will not shut the fuck up. would love 2 rant at max about history or worms or any other number of things. they r friends now that’s just how it is i don’t make the rules (i DO make the rules. and so do u. and we have made the rule that they r friends :3)

[ducknotinarow]

[2012 RaphArnold - hug your father in law because here he is being a dad]

"Raphael, there yer are," Arnold grinned, just having caught a glimpse of green, "Was wonderin' if I coul' show yer somethin' pretty quick."

When the Turtle came over, Arnold showed him said thing - a book. A clearly old book, hand made, with older papers with hand written words, and a ribbon binding everything together. On the front, in faded, yet beautiful, cursive was a simple phrase: 'Jones Family Cook book'. Arnold smiled,

"This has been in my family for years, my ma gave it t' me, an' her ma gave it t' her, an' their ma t' them, an' so on, for generations," Arnold explains, "We all add our own recipes t'."

Arnold was careful as he flicked through the pages, showing as they got newer, the writing changed. Even Casey and Angel had little sections near the end, each one separated by a tab made by said person, though, Casey and Angel's parts had very few recipes added,

"I've already taught Casey an' Angel my own, an' I'd like t' teach yer the same ones t', I trus' yer won't burn anythin'," He lightly jokes, soon sighing softly, "But, there's jus' one problem with the book, it's missin' someone," Arnold looks to Raph, smile soft, "It's missin' yer section."

Arnold is careful as he holds out the book to them, waiting for Raphael to take it,

"Yer my son t' Raph, an' I wan' yer t' add t' our book, if yer wan' t' as well," Arnold asks of them, "Who knows, if yer an' Casey ever get a few munchkins of yerself, they can add t' it t' - but uh, I'm sure that's a long way away."

He barely knew Raph but was already thinking about grandkids, maybe he should slow down a little,

"Still, I'd like yer t' add to our family book, an' when yer get some more time, I'll teach yer my lasagne recipe, one of my kids gotta be able t' cook it without turnin' it int' charcoal."

| Muse Interaction

"I dunno, jus' feels 'ike a mess Case." Was the best the turtle had to offer as he spoke to his boyfriend over the phone. Sitting out not to far from their home. Casey making his way home the plan was to meet up and head out but Raphael was no longer in the mood to bash skulls or tag up any walls. Of course Casey asked what was wrong seeing if he needed to make use of their code to instead talk and vent. "I ain't ya know tryin' not to tell ya jus' I don' know how to word it?" He offers but from the tone in Casey voice he knows they know that. Hell Casey gets it better than anyone how hard it can be word your emotions. Sure he could write his out Raph not so much he needed time to figure it out. And well he had a lot to figure out, he sort of had a fight with Splinter. Not sure if you can call it a fight much. Fights were physical or verbal, Raph didn't get much word in simply cutting it all of with 'hai sense' bowed head and dipped out the first chance he had. Grateful for Casey in this moment when they offer to stay in for the night instead. Made better when telling Raph they could just hang out at his place.

If it weren't for the fact he felt like he would be imposing or whatever he would be over at the Jones' home more than he already was. Which said a few things about the turtle as is. Apparently he was slightly polite and surprisingly he wasn't over near as much as it may seem. Raph was well aware just how welcomed he was by Casey and his family. Something he never fully got his mind wrapped around, but at the same time he kept visits to a decent balance so Splinter wouldn't be on his case to much. Raphael understands it comes from a concur and a worry in his own father maybe fear too. Not to mention he didn't want to over stay his welcome. Assuming there was a limit to such a thing. Raph just didn't want to risk what had come to be his safe haven in a sense. And he has a feeling Casey aware of that fact, but Casey's such a good boyfriend not seeming to mind the times Raph wants to simply hide out in it when it's needed. Though he dose still go through Casey bed room window most the time. Best way to get right to his boyfriend after all. But now? He was allowed to come to the front door.

It was dark out so he was pretty easily hidden thanks to the lack of street lights. It felt sort of weird as he knocked on the door. So normal and mundane but filled his shell with an overwhelming sensation. It's eased away when Casey's gap tooth smile greets him at the door and invite him in hard not to return the grin. Having gotten there not too long after Casey had it seemed they were just going to head right up to his room. But it seemed the moment Raph's presence wasn't only known by Casey, rhe turtle would be summoned by another in the house.

"Raphael, there yer are,"

On instinct he paused and turned around to peek his head over, letting them better see him. As he was just met with a smile. Did they know he would be popping around? " uhhey Aronarld, I'm here, need somethin' ?" The turtle was still learning how to walk around the eldest human he was different from April's Dad course dating. Casey may have a lot to do with the approach as well.

"Was wonderin' if I coul' show yer somethin' pretty quick."

Well now he was curious by the suggestion, tossing a look to Casey a moment. "I'll catch up to ya." He idly states before turning and making his way over to thier Dad. He really liked the guy even if they could be a tad corny but it was a good kind. They seemed bejist really beyond cool with Casey dating Raphael. And even about Raoh being a turtle, sure he was bound to have some moment, but honestly? It felt nice having another human who didn't scream at the sight of him. Raphael offered a smile to them then looked down to what they wanted to show him. Tilting his head to the side as he lookong over the aged pages unevenly stacked all banded up with a ribbon actting as a spine. Reading over the cover it was a cook book, a Jones cook book at that. He didn't guess cooking was a big thing for them? Seeing how Casey cooking skills weren't much to sneeze at.

"This has been in my family for years, my ma gave it t' me, an' her ma gave it t' her, an' their ma t' them, an' so on, for generations,"

Raphael offers a nod of his head as Aronald leafs through the pages of the cook book. But he dosent quite understand why they are showing him thier family cook book still?

"We all add our own recipes t'."

That's kind of nice he thinks having something that been passed down like so entrusted to each part of thier family added on even. Made clear as some pages were newer than others. Hand writing differed between the sections even. Think back on hiw Splinter would mention heirlooms his own family had long ago. Thier weapons were part of those. They didn't really have anything like this maybe that photo album but Mikey took over on that. Leo would get Splinters sword that was always known. And kind of what caused the not so much if a fighting they had.

He let's that thought move away as he shifts and moves to get comfortable where he's standing right now. Looking at the name tabs of the sections till its gets to Arnorld he sees Casey and Angel even have sections. Course Raphael smiles at the sight if Casey's name. He's half tempted to joke with thier Dad about how many different way can one person burn a meal.

"I've already taught Casey an' Angel my own, an' I'd like t' teach yer the same ones t', I trus' yer won't burn anythin',"

The offer to teach him some of his own recipes goes over Raphs head a second as he dosen't even hide the snicker that comes out of him when Aronald makes a similar snide at his kids expense. Deciding it might be fine to add in his own but he's cut off as they contuine to speak

"But, there's jus' one problem with the book, it's missin' someone,"

Oh? This must be why he asked for Raph? Though he don't know what the problem is or even how Raph can help? Maybe a receipe was missing? Taken? Oh family drama they have a section fully missing due to some in family fighting and Raph can sneak into wherever to get it!

Honestly though the answer he's given paired with the soft smile they wore was far from what he ever would have expected to here.

"It's missin' yer section."

"My what?" Raphs bewilderment can't go unnoticed needing a second before he's even aware they were holding the book out for him to take. Raph near forgetting how his arms and hands even function before he gingerly took the book carefully holding it in his hands. He dosent knkw what todo what to see even why would he get a section?

"Yer my son t' Raph, an' I wan' yer t' add t' our book, if yer wan' t' as well,"

He lifts his gaze up to them unsure what to say to that. How could he be thier son? He bearly knew Raph yet he considered them family? What did Raph even do for them to think of him in that way? He tries but try as he can he just can't recall a time Raph had done a thing for that to be earned.

"Who knows, if yer an' Casey ever get a few munchkins of yerself, they can add t' it t' - but uh, I'm sure that's a long way away."

And now he's sure he blushing at that. Kids?! Okay well technically they did treat thier pet turtle like thier joint son but. Shit! He wants the book to go through them then?! Ugh his head his spin his tongue is tied the fuck is he meant todo right now?!

This is too much right he can't accept this? Can he? For some reason though Arnold's voice seems to clam the anxious spin out his mind was going through in that second.

"Still, I'd like yer t' add to our family book, an' when yer get some more time, I'll teach yer my lasagne recipe, one of my kids gotta be able t' cook it without turnin' it int' charcoal."

His eyes just widen a moment he can't comprehend this at all. How can he just do this? Welcome Raphael how he dose? Claim them part of his family even. Raphael hadn't done anything worthy of that. He wants Raphael part of it even a book full of Jones and he felt Raph had a place with them? Raph didn't even have a place in his father's mind as being considered worth the Hamato family's values and ways. But he was worth this?

Raph lowers his head lookong down to the pages carefully tracing his thumb on the edge of the pages. His mind suddenly went blank he couldn't think he'll he had to remind himself to breath in that moment. He manges a smile, unsure of hiw he normally wears those in the first place. He feels something swelling in his chest but he can't name it. Casey Dad was just being nice right?

"I can' make time." He simply answers with, a slient yes i want to spend that time with you hidden in his words. "I never had anythin' as good as your lasagna after all so love ta know how to make it." He offers to try and hide the welling emotions building up in him as he carefully sets the book down. Not wanting to lose a single page on the binding.

As soon as it was safe though he steps over a second and put his arms around Aronald wishing to die the second his body moved but it was quick and fast as he gave them a a faint squeeze between his arms. Praying that they can't tell how much this just hit him he can't even explain it or fathom it. It's just a cook book but it was also not just about the book. Before he let go and moved back from Aronald, eyes kept low holding his self-control over himself in that moment. "Thanks." It soft near faint before he slowly steps away again. "I uh should get back to Case for now, but definitely gonna plan somethin' out to learn from you don't wanna just drop it on ya after all." Legs move please he begs as he steps away and retreats towards Casey's room. Nothing again Aronald he just needed the comforting presence Casey offered when he felt way too much for his own liking.

[killmehe]

Some Kind of Wonderful

Summary — In which your friend Katsuki decides to help you 'practice' for your upcoming date. 

Pairing — Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

WC — 5507

Tags — MDNI - Minors Do Not Interact, Aged-up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Making out, Implied Chubby Reader, Literally the tiniest hint toward a boner, Implied Mirio/Reader, No Beta

Katsuki’s patience snaps in half when you let out your fifth sigh of the afternoon. He stomps his boots on the ground, slaps his paperback book down, and he wires his jaw tight. The cherry on top of his hissy fit comes in the form of a heated glare tossed in your direction, where you stand hunched under a Honda Civic. “What’s your fuckin’ problem? And don’t give me that ‘nothing’ bullshit.”

With the purse of your lips and the scratch of your thoroughly used pencil, you ignore his outburst and take it for what it is — an opening to whine about your troubles to Katsuki, guilt-free. You just don’t have it in you to be anything less than transparent about the heaving, wistful breaths, even if you should give him shit about his tone. It’s Katsuki, anyways — when you’ve been friends with him this long, sometimes you have to give up the ghost of indignation with how he extends his ass-backward concern. 

You glance up at him while you take inventory of supplies, gauging his irritation while you run over the checklist in your head. “I’m a little nervous about my date.”

He doesn’t contain his almost audible eye roll, crossing two big arms in front of his chest while scoffing at you. ”What’s there to be nervous over? It’s just fucking Togata.”

Funnily enough, you already recognize how ridiculous it is to be this concerned about Mirio. And that’s no slight to him; He’s unassuming, sweet, and easygoing with an air that has most people feeling safe and secure. On top of it all, he asked you on a date because he was the one with the massive crush, not you. You were sitting fairly pretty with the current situation but the hot pinpricks in your stomach beg to differ.

”I know, but—“ you falter for a second, trying to figure out if this is really the type of thing you want to talk about with Katsuki of all people. He’ll probably call you an idiot and go back to his boring nonfiction without another word on the subject — there’s also a chance that he’ll resort to mocking and you’ll never hear the end of it. At least that’s how he normally reacts when Denki complains about being left on read or when Kirishima bumbles around all red-faced after receiving compliments from you.

You only need a few seconds to find your resolve again. Potential humiliation is always daunting but you really don’t think you can stomach the last hours of your shift with this uneasy weight on your shoulders. Besides, he won’t let it lie if you shrug him off now after practically begging for his attention. “Well, it’s just — what am I gonna do if we kiss?” 

His face goes slack for a millisecond before he looks like he wants to kill you for bringing up the subject. “Are we in middle school or somethin’? Just fuckin’ kiss him if you want to,” he growls it out, already ripping open his book to find the page he lost for such a juvenile conversation.

You can’t bring yourself to say the real issue. How hard could it possibly be to just say you’re out of practice? Extremely, woefully out of practice for someone your age who should be playing the field to some degree. You haven’t been in a relationship since high school and the last time you kissed someone was at a Christmas party two years ago. 

(Even more depressing is the fact that the kiss in question only barely counts. Getting caught underneath the mistletoe with Tenya had resulted in the most awkward, short-lived peck in human existence. It took months for either of you to fully live it down and you still hear about it every December.

You would be loath to admit it but it’s because of Katsuki that all you’ve experienced in the last few years has been Tenya’s stiff embrace. At some point before that party, you had noticed the way you came alive when he would direct all of his attention on you and it hadn’t taken long to realize that it was because you had feelings for him. How could you not? He's always cared for you and paid attention to all of your little parts, always rough and tumble but soft and doting at the same time. He’s always impressed upon you how you’re ‘his girl’ and it’s always lit you like a livewire. 

Despite it all, you’d given up hope of reciprocity. He never exhibited any feelings in return and you weren’t the type to actively pursue something with a friendship as dear as his on the line. Mirio’s invitation couldn’t have come at a better time because, hopefully, someone as lovely as him will wean you off of Katsuki and the insurmountable emotions you have for him.)

You don’t flounder for long because Katsuki never lets you. He always zeros in on these things quickly without you having to actually say anything. It’s too bad that he uses his powers for evil instead of actually being helpful for once.

His smile is knife-sharp and his eyes hold the usual air of taunting people like Izuku have to deal with all the time. “What? Does the little ‘ole mechanic still not know how to kiss?” He clicks his tongue in mock pity before letting out an obnoxious laugh at your expense, slapping his book on his knee like he wasn’t pissed at the beginning of this exchange. Like you don’t know how he’s just as hopeless in this arena with his nonexistent dating life.

“It’s just been a while!” You’re trying to defend yourself but it only makes him laugh that much harder, his hand slapping across his mouth to cover his manic grin and stifle his obnoxious wheezing. It might have been funny if it was anyone else but it just feels pathetic to you; It’s to the point now that the mechanics of making out have totally slipped your mind, not that he needs to know that with how hard he’s already laughing. “I just want it to be good,” you drop your pencil down on the steel table with finality before turning back to the Honda. To save some face, to protect what little bit of pride you still have kicking in your chest, your words take on an indifferent tone. ”Whatever. I’ll just figure it out when the time comes.”

His laughter dies down and no response follows which is honestly fine because you prefer the silence. You assume he’s dropped it, something that’s probably for the best after how he’s been this week. While you might have forgotten the lead-up, the motions of making out, the same can’t be said for knowing how little Katsuki is invested in the topic of your date. He’s made it perfectly clear how much of an idiot he finds Mirio and how you’re an even bigger one for accepting his offer. Telling Katsuki about Mirio started recurring rounds of barely-concealed huffing and little comments at Mirio’s expense (and sometimes yours) before pattering off into a terrible mask of nonchalance. It’s done nothing to hide his random bout of irritation on the subject.

You line up a collection pan under the drain plug, already reaching for the ratchet balanced on the nearby toolbox. Placing the head of the tool against the large bolt, you set to work on turning. You twist and twist and twist your arm counter-clockwise and the garage fills with the familiar sound of metal on metal.

The click of your tool is loud on your ears but it’s not enough to drown out everything with it, especially with the rhythmic pauses you take with each crank. You hear a group of teenagers after one crank, laughing carelessly after a day at the local high school pass the front of the shop. Next, it’s a deep metal clang from the old vending machine in the office section, its weak lights fluttering with the shake of an old machine. Finally,  just as you feel the bolt release the majority of its tension and all it will take to have pools of slick oil filling your pan is a single crank, you catch Katsuki’s rough voice carrying through the wind. Your ratchet ends up slipping right through your fingers and clattering on the concrete. The bolt still clings to the valve. 

”Practice on me.”

The slam of metal on concrete has you startling, and you straighten your back to your full height—not that you get very far. Pain blooms at the crown of your head from the harsh metal of a rogue pipe beneath the car. “Shit, that hurt—” You cup the spot tenderly, reaching toward the ground so you can scoop up your fallen tool while you hiss in Katsuki’s direction. “I really hope that joke was worth my concussion, asshole.” 

He locks his jaw and squares his shoulders, tense and sharp lines replacing the teasing air that usually comes of his mockery, before retaliating again—almost making you drop the ratchet a second time. “‘M not joking,” Katsuki frowns, the pinch of his brow painting the perfect picture of serious. 

Your cheeks heat but unlike the flush that comes with crushes and dates and kissing, it’s the kind that comes with being poked at. It feels a little humiliating because he’s barring down, acting like he’s willing to make out with you and for a joke of all things. You clench your fist tight around the ratchet before slamming it back into your toolbox. “You’re not funny, Kat,” you close your eyes for a brief moment, releasing a single rage-filled breath so you don’t blow up from his audacity. “That’s not funny, especially since I was being open with you.”

He casts his head back and groans, loud and frustrated before replying with a sneer that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I know the fumes from this shithole haven’t fucked with your cognitive abilities that much. I said I wasn’t jokin’.”

Tinges of anger still linger deep within your chest but they’re mostly replaced with confusion. It doesn’t make any sense, not in your world at least. “You’re being serious? Why would you offer that?”

His cheeks redden as he processes what you’ve said, where the conversation has gone and then he’s breaking his gaze, swiveling his head to the bustling street outside. He ignores your questions when he finally works through all of the thoughts you can see piling up in his head. “Forget it.”

You aren’t as willing to forget. “Would you really do that for me?”

You step around your toolbox, around the steel table you write all of your orders down on, and you close the distance that separated Katsuki from your work. He doesn’t move when you approach; he stays still and quiet, watching people come and go with dark eyes and a clamped mouth. ”It’s just a dumb fucking kiss,” his rough voice is even more coarse. “I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t willin’.”

Shock doesn’t even begin to describe what you’re going through. Katsuki can shrug off a kiss like it carries no weight but you know that’s not really how he feels. Dating, sex, kissing — it‘s all serious business to him, after a lifetime of watching his parents love each other and seeing the joy and domestic bliss that came out of it. After a lifetime of wanting it for himself. He wouldn’t do this with just anyone.

He’d do it with you, though. 

You consider him then, only for a few seconds. You take in his pale hair, his stained cheeks, his large hand dwarfing his little paperback where it holds the page he’s on. Pretty, you recognize because that’s always been true for as long as you’ve known him. Pretty and willing to kiss you.

Your answer leaves as easily as it came to mind. “Okay.”

You catch the subtle ruffle of his hair when he turns to face you again. He considers you now, analyzing you in the same way you had analyzed him. Feeling his eyes on you is too much so you follow in his footsteps; You lamely train your eyes out the door and pretend he isn’t even here, like anything out there is more interesting than this sudden turn of events. 

You can’t help but glance at him from the corner of your eyes, and it’s enough to finally evoke a response out of him.

“You gonna get over here or are ya gonna stand around like an idiot?”

It only takes four steps to clear what little space pooled between you two, to be within reaching distance of each other. You don't reach out to him yet; Instead, you wipe sweaty hands down your front, completely at a loss for how to tread these new waters with someone currently glaring holes in between your eyebrows. 

“What are you gonna do with your hands?” Business as usual, Katsuki takes on his usually bossy tone. It’s irritating most days but all it does now is put you at ease. You know he’ll take care of you and you know that he’ll be helpful in his own aggressive way.

“My hands? It depends,” you say, because it does.  A lot of factors go into hand placement.

He rolls his eyes at you because, even though he’s helping, he’s still Katsuki. “No, it doesn’t ‘depend’,” he quotes the air, his voice in a grating impression of your own. “God, you’re so fucking lucky I’m around.”

 He snatches your hands, curling around the limp of your wrists and then tugging unnecessarily harsh until you’re standing in between his parted thighs. He drops a stained hand on his shoulder, ignoring a cry you let out about the grease before twining your leftover fingers with his. You feel the catch of his calluses on your own and despite the pleasant trill that rockets up your palm, it’s immediately overshadowed by the need to fidget away in a fit of stage fright. If Katsuki feels the same, he doesn’t show it.

The hand still in his grip is moved to the back of his head that dips back to meet it. He cards your fingers through the wild mess of hair, curling your fingers around his strands before slipping away to anchor around your elbow. “There. He’ll like it if you do that shit,” Katsuki smirks up at you, cocky when all he did was put your hands on him. 

Embarrassingly enough, he might actually have a reason to feel cocky. If it feels even a fraction like this when you touch Mirio then you don’t see how things could go wrong. You notice how it lights you up from the inside; Pops and crackles flare deep in the crevices of your gut the longer your hands are on him. 

You’ve touched these parts of him before—felt the curves of his shoulder when patting him on the back and the downy soft of his hair on the rare occasions he lays his head on your lap—but this is the first time it’s inspired anything beyond friendly affection. This is new, feeling your friend in this context. You’re a little shocked by how much you enjoy it.

With little success, you try to ignore how well he fits into your palms. “What now?” You zero in on the material of his shirt but it proves to be just as distracting with how it clings to his torso. Has he always been this built?

He’s so focused on helping, so serious about it that you almost feel a little guilty for the subtle squeeze you give to his arm, taking in how the muscles refuse to cave around your fingers. “You gotta look me in the eyes when you do this shit, or it won’t count.”

You doubt that but you listen anyway because you really don’t want to be caught checking him out when he’s being so nice to help you in the first place. You square your shoulders and dip your head and tear your gaze away from your prodding fingers but his request is easier said than done. 

The promise of a kiss as practice, one shared with your best friend no less, is making you feel ridiculous and—if you really examined yourself—extremely nervous. If only you could be as straight-faced as he is; Your mouth stretches into a grin and your belly begins to twitch with suppressed laughter, despite the admittedly valiant attempt to stop both.

His face doesn’t crumble when he notices the shake of your shoulders. Instead, deep red eyes narrow into a glare when he sees your lip caught between your teeth, when he feels the clench of your heated hands on his shoulder and in his hair, and a snarl warps his face. You can’t blame him.

“Fuckin’—stop laughing,” he snaps, his cheeks coloring to match his ears. “I don’t have to do this shit for you. Fucking grow up.”

“Sorry—” You cast your head back to the tin roof of the garage, and you try to regain your composure because he is right. He doesn’t have to do this for you and you should probably be grateful he hasn’t started kicking your ass for daring to laugh at him. A few pulls of air filled with the overpowering smell of gasoline and grease does nothing to quell the jitter of your nerves like it usually does. You're practically wheezing now. “Just give me a second.”

“No, fuck you. I do this shit out of the kindness of my heart and you have the fuckin’ nerve,” — he tries to pry your hands away but you tighten your grip to deter him — “Let go, damn it!“

“Please, Katsuki,” you’re gasping for air but it does help relieve some of the tension that started to leak into your bones. “I’m just nervous, remember?”

That must quell his wrath because hands that sought to push you away lose their will, loosening around where they tried to pry you off. Instead, they find shelter at the curve of your waist. He cups just beneath your rib cage, his fingers locking against doughy flesh, and then pets down your side every time your body jumps from every stifled laugh.

It takes longer than a few seconds, your laughs losing their wind and your smile shrinking into its little half-moon slowly, but it does eventually stop—and when the time comes, you find he’s already staring at you. There’s no scowl or scathing look or pout. All you’re greeted with is an expression that reeks of something gentle and reverent.

 It should shock you to see, this sweetness, but most of the surprise comes from how real it feels. You’re still coming off of a rush of endorphins, happy little chemicals that eased you into his gaze, but it doesn’t quite feel like the lingering effects of adrenaline that legitimatizes the glint in his eyes. You know how authentic that expression is because It rests along your tongue and the roof of your mouth whenever you are caught up in your own feelings, filling your throat with a roaring heat that sears your insides with want. 

It’s just practice, you stress half-heartedly.

His hands slide down to grip the fat of your hips with strength that surges up his arms, has the blue-green criss-cross of his veins jumping and the muscles of his arms flexing. He pulls you even closer until your thighs press tight against the insides of his.

 His torso expands and rubs pleasantly through the thick material of your coveralls and, maybe if you weren’t too busy marveling at the novelty of it, you would have noticed the singular stutter of his breathing when you lean into him even more, squishing your chest against him with the weight of your body. “He’ll do that,” He says, his voice low and rumbling while his eyes bounce around, never staying anywhere for long. “He’ll do that if he isn’t a complete moron.”

Your fingers twist and curl the edges of his hair. It's a necessary distraction from how one of his hands rubs a slow stroke up and down your side. He tilts his head back a bit to maintain eye contact, and you find that you like that, feeling his eyes gazing up at you. A dull thud echoes in the quiet still of the garage; The toe of one of your boots knocks against the tower of tires Katsuki has perched himself on and it’s all because you want to feel his head tip a little further into the cradle of your palm. “How do you know?”

His eyes finally halt, fixed on a singular point on your face, your mouth, with drooping eyelids. Has anyone ever looked at you like that before? He grumbles back a slow and reluctant answer. “I read a lot of Shoujo.” 

Normal conditions would call for a round of teasing. He’s never openly admitted to reading those, always telling you to ‘mind your own damn business’ when you ask. It should be ridiculous that someone like Katsuki, who looks like he would be averse to romance in all its forms, indulges in stories about characters falling deeply in love.

It doesn’t feel so absurd now that you’re chest to chest with him and his eyes feel like they’re brand-hot while they trail the shape of your face. 

Maybe if you ask nicely, with enough sweetness and pleading, he’ll tell you what it is that he enjoys reading the most. There are endless possibilities in romance; Maybe he reads about enemies falling in love or maybe he sticks solely to meet-cute storylines about starstruck strangers. A secret hope wriggles itself deep in the crevices of your heart, flipping your stomach obnoxiously once more; Maybe, if you’re lucky, he’ll have a soft spot for romance between friends.

The way he’s looking at you now almost makes the last week he’s spent biting your head off worth it. It also makes you forget how you earned this position, the two of you spun around each other. It feels too natural, perfect in the way that he’s meant to have his hands on you and your hands on him.

“Kat?”

“Changed my mind.” For all your sluggish movements and syrupy thoughts, your heart works itself into overdrive when he says that. He doesn’t let you spiral for long. “Close your eyes,” he whispers.

The request causes hesitation. What if this leaves you wrecked to the point that you’ll never be able to get over him? Is this really the type of thing you should do before a date with someone else? What if Katsuki doesn’t like it?

Because it’s Katsuki, he sees all the trepidation flash across your face and makes the decision for you. A hand that’s sat still on your side, one that’s only played with the give of your hip, moves. It ghosts over your waist, slow on its ascent up the side of a breast. Higher, the length of your neck shivers when his calloused graze thin skin. His middle and index fingers extend, parting to fit the width of your eyes before resting over your brow and pulling down. The pads of his fingers are rough here too but also gentle and warm on your eyelids. “Close ‘em.”

Your eyes flutter at the raspy demand. You hear a car fly past the shop and a gust of warm, early September air whooshing through the garage door. The wind ruffles the edges of your hair but never touches your cheek; Katsuki’s hand bats away the humidity, his thumb rubbing dizzying tingles into the skin. 

The tickle of his breath results in the swipe of your tongue along your cupid’s bow—you only miss Katsuki’s bottom lip by a centimeter, not that you notice. You work through the jumble of your throat, swallowing around the ball of nerves that grows the longer he hovers. “I thought it didn’t count if I couldn't look you in the eye?” 

“Shut up,” he rumbles, nowhere near as scathing as he usually is when he demands your silence. “Couldn’t handle you lookin’ at me like that.”

His breath smells like the sweet-tart of citrus tic tacs, the same ones he refused to share earlier. Giddy is the best way to describe the emotion bubbling up. Looks like you get a taste after all. “Why not?” 

Your eyes stay resolutely closed, his mouth stays resolutely shut. You scratch at his scalp a little meanly but the low grunt he lets out is more relaxed than hurt. “C’mon, Katsuki.“ Why wouldn’t he be able to handle you looking at him in any type of way?

His voice is so low on your ears that if you weren’t already hanging off of his words you would have surely missed it. “Ya keep lookin’ at me like that and it’ll be me you’re goin’ on a date with.”

It’s soft, much softer than Katsuki seems capable of, when you feel the first press of his lips.

And It’s good. It’s so good you completely forget the nerves and the implication of his words. They just — whoosh away with the wind of another too fast car and each wet smack of his lips. Everything you know fades out of existence and all you can do is fall into him, leaning more and more of your weight into his soft squeezes and the clenching muscles of his stomach shamelessly. You don’t even have it in you to be embarrassed when your teeth clink or someone bites too hard on plush bottom lips. He takes it all in a stride, almost seems to revel in it as much as you do. 

And maybe you weren’t as hopeless as you thought because you seem to match his pace and finesse with little trouble. Katsuki pants and shudders and pulls at you with increasing force. His fingers flex and clench along your body, trailing dangerously low on your back with one hand and slowly rubbing the side of your belly with the other. He whines when you clench his hair in your fist and lean his head back for better access to the curl of his tongue, moans low and rough when your body sags against him and you feel a tell-tale hardness straining against his jeans.

He’s the one that pulls away first. The only thing that stops you from licking into his mouth again is a little shove to your hips and a low croak. 

“E—enough,” he clears his throat, and the air of nonchalance he’s imitating would be more believable if he wasn’t running his tongue over swollen lips, if his fingers weren’t twitching to touch more and his eyes weren't trained on the heave of your chest. “You’ve got no reason to be nervous about your dumb fuckin’ date.”

He might be able to change the subject easily but you can’t. You’re dazed, practically swaying in your work boots between his thighs. Date? Nervous? You aren’t nervous anymore and you aren’t thinking about a date with Mirio. Everything seems so far away now, hardly even a blip on your radar. Unimportant. All you have left swirling in your head are ways to get your mouth on him again without seeming too desperate. 

“You’re blushing.” You’ve missed the migration of his deep flush because your eyes were closed. The blush has moved from his face and ears down toward the thick of his neck, maybe even the valley of his chest. You trail a finger down one scalding cheek, the same shade of rouge that covers the pert of his nose. He freezes in his pursuit of making distance. “Did you like it that much, Katsuki?”

You should know better than to ask him that and it’s only confirmed when he slaps at the hand on his cheek and forces you back before he jumps to his feet off of his tower of tires. He looms over you once he’s at his full height with a mean snarl that curls back his upper lip. The intention of intimidation falls flat when his eyes still track the swollen mess you have for a mouth.

“As fuckin’ if.” He rips his jacket from the hood of a car, shoving his arms deep into the leather with all the aggression in the world and stomping toward the entrance of the shop with the same amount of ire. “I should’ve known you would pull some shit like that. Should've let you look like the goddamn fool you are in front of your lame ass boy toy.”

Katsuki doesn’t normally leave until your shift ends so he can drive you home. The rush he’s in to leave the garage is startling and even if you committed the cardinal sin of asking Katsuki how he feels, you’re unprepared for the change of pace. You intercept him right at the door, posing yourself as a wobbly-kneed wall that stands between his escape. “Where are you going?”

“Anywhere but this shitty fuckin’ shop!” He spits it out all mean but he doesn’t push through you to leave like he normally would. He stands with clenched fists and glares down at you even though he’s supposed to be storming out of the garage. 

“Okay,” you breathe it out, a little dreamy and a little defeated. You don’t really want him to leave, not when you easily just had the best kiss of recent memory and with the same friend who’s been so aggravated since Mirio made his appearance on your radar. But you know from how he shifts from foot to foot that any conversation about it right now would just make him act like a caged animal. “Alright, Kat. Just one more thing before you go.” 

“What do you want now?” His sharp edge dulls itself a bit from curiosity. You hope to god you’re reading the room right.

You steel your resolve and rise to the tip of your toes. With the collar of his jacket cuffed in your fist, you drop a final kiss on the corner of his mouth. He reacts so fast, not even questioning it and already working to move his mouth so it’s placed squarely against yours. The soft pucker of his lips trying so hard to greet your own only builds the hope you buried in your chest.

The smile you give him when you’ve pulled away must be a lot to take in because he avoids it entirely. You don’t let him run for long; You cup the underside of his chin and pull him to face you head-on. 

“I’ll call you later, yeah?” 

You only get a single half-second of his disbelief before his wide eyes strengthen to their normal steel with that little something from before, that pillow-soft glaze of affection and want. The response he grunts back confirms what you see and what you felt when he held you in his hands and kissed away your thoughts. “Nah, I’ll call you. I have some shit I got to tell you.”

And then he leaves. He nudges you out of the way with a firm grip on your waist before he turns his back to you and marches out the garage door. He never fully looks back either. All you get is a single glance out of the corner of ruby eyes when he fixes a nonexistent fold of his jacket before he leaves you alone with the hum of an archaic vending machine and the phantom impression his hands left on your body.

And you just watch him trudge down the sidewalk. You memorize how the sinking sun paints his hair and the tenseness of his shoulders from how he has a hand shoved in his pocket and his little paperback book clenched in the other. You lose sight of him completely when he passes the dingy corner store you always buy coffee from. 

You already have an inclination about what his call will be about. If his goodbye and the reaction to the sweet little kiss you placed on the edge of his mouth are anything to go off of, you really do have nothing to worry about — nothing to worry about because Katsuki is going to put an end to your lovesick misery without the help of Mirio. You can barely contain the excitement from gushing out of every pore. 

Your next course of action is pretty much decided then and there and you waste no time once he‘s gone. You claw your phone from the deep pocket of your coveralls, you pull up Mirio’s contact info, and let out your sixth sigh of the afternoon.

Katsuki’s soothed your nerves but, in doing so, he’s left you with a whole new problem. Now you need to figure out the right way to tell Mirio that you can’t make your date because you’re seeing someone else.

[beels-burger-babe]

A Pain You'll Soon Regret - Pt. 2

Poly! MC Summary: MC and the demon lords get in a fight resulting in MC leaving. They planned on going to Purgatory Hall until things cool off, but they never quite make it there. Ft. Poly!MC

TW: Heavy Angst, Violence, I don't know what to tag this, but there is a pretty nasty verbal fight, Gore/Injury Vomit Part 1: HERE, Part 3: HERE, Part 4: HERE

Meanwhile at the House of Lamentation

Your leaving hadn't made the situation at the House any better. Asmodeus threw his hands up in the air and glared at the rest. "Great! Just wonderful! Now they've run off. Happy now?" venom filled his words, but he could feel his heart race in fear that he had just lost the one person who loved him for more than his looks. Satan scoffed, though he glanced at the door through the corner of his eyes. "Don't act like you're better than us. I didn't see you standing up for them." Levi growled and went straight to his room as Satan and Asmodeus began to argue. Beel took a step towards to door you had just marched out of and glance between it and his brothers. "Should we go after them? It's dark and they're drunk."

Lucifer lifted his chin as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Why should we? It's like they said, they don't want to depend on us anymore, fine. Let them see for themself how far they get without our protection," with those words, Lucifer turned on his heel and stormed to his office.

Beel sighed and looked at Belphie, "What do you think? We can go get them together?" Belphie stared at the door for a minute, a guilty look in his eyes, before he shook his head. "Give them space, Beel. They're probably heading for Purgatory Hall. Simeon and the others can take care of them for tonight. Right now we all just need to calm down before facing each other again," he patted his twin's shoulder before heading to their room; regret swirling in his stomach as he thought of how he betrayed you once more.

Mammon stood frozen staring at the door like he still hadn't made up his mind on what he wanted to do. His instincts screamed at him to get you back in his arms and keep you there. You were his human, reckless or not, and he had a duty to protect you both as your assigned protector and as your boyfriend. But for some reason, he couldn't seem to move his feet. His mind replayed the discussion in his head over and over again. He had once told MC that if they couldn't be saved by him, to make sure that they died. That he was the only one allowed to protect them. Tonight, as everyone was fighting, MC needed him to protect them, but instead, he pushed them towards the wolves. He let his greed get the best of him. "Fuck," Mammon cursed to himself as he shook himself out of his thoughts. He glanced over to see Beel restraining Satan from pouncing onto a sneering Asmodeus. He sighed and shook his head. They hadn't fought like this in a long time. You had always been there to put them into their place. Now look at them. Mammon groaned and ran a hand over his face. "Will you guys cut it out? MC is gone, okay? Ain't nothin' we can do about it now," to his surprise, his younger brothers actually stopped and seemed to be listening to him. Mammon huffed and began walking towards the stairs. "It's like Belphie said. We ain't in no place to make things better right now. Fightin' like this is what got us in this position, so quit it. Get some sleep. We'll figure it all in the mornin'." Beel, Satan and Asmodeus blinked at their older brother as he disappeared upstairs. Seeing Mammon mature and take control of the situation like that, was strange, but not unfamiliar. Asmodeus massaged his temples with one hand and fixed his hair with the other. "Ugh, all this fighting is going to be horrid for my skin," he glanced at the door one more time with a defeated look before heading towards his room. Satan clenched and unclenched his hands a couple of times, taking a few deep breaths, before silently nodding at Beel and walking away. All alone, Beel stepped towards the door. He opened it and looked out at the dark vast of the Devildom before him. With a heavy, guilty heart, he closed the door and pressed his forehead against it. He used one hand to lock the door for the evening, while the other pulled out his D.D.D. The others didn't want him going after you, but a message couldn't hurt, right? He opened your contact and wrote out his text, "Hey MC. I'm sorry for how things happened tonight. Things got out of hand, and I'm sorry for not doing anything to stop that. I know you and the others are upset right now, but I was hoping that tomorrow, once we're all calm, you could come back home and we could talk about it?" Beel sat by the door for half an hour waiting for a response, but none ever came. He frowned and glanced up at the locked door handle before shaking his head. "Maybe they left it on silent for a bit," he mumbled to himself before picking up his phone once more. "Text me when you get to Purgatory Hall. You don't need to say anything else. I just want to know you're safe." With that, Beel headed towards the gym. He wasn't tired. He wasn't hungry. He just wanted you home, but he couldn't have that. So in the meantime, he'd stay awake until he at least knew you were safe.

Only the morning came and went, and there was no word from you. The brothers were starting to get concerned. No matter what was said last night, they still loved you. You all needed to talk, yes, and things needed to be worked out, but that didn't change how they felt for you. They would never want to see you hurt. Lucifer had reached out to Simeon, while Asmodeus contacted Solomon and Beel texted Luke. Only Beel received a response. "Never contact me again. If you come anywhere near Purgatory Hall, I will not hesitate to smite you in an instant, you foul fiend?" Satan read out loud as he passed the phone back to a very confused and worried Beel. "What in the world did you do to him?" "Nothing. At least, I don't think," he thought about for a second. "I've stolen his baked goods on occasion, but besides complaining about as I did it, he never seemed to hold a grudge." Lucifer frowned deeply. "This is clearly about MC. Luke has taken to them as though they're his older sibling."

Levi scowled and pressed a few buttons on his game. "Sure they aren't dating him too?" he yelped as Asmodeus smacked him on the back of the head. "Stop it," Asmodeus growled. "I know you're the Avatar of Envy, Levi, but MC was open and honest with us. They told us that they loved us all and that they wanted a relationship with all of us. We all listened to what they offered and agreed. You agreed to this!"

Levi huffed and put down his game. "Because it was better than not having them at all!" he sighed and put an arm over his face. "I know that they love me, and them being with a-all of us doesn't change that, but it's so hard sometimes. I-I-I just-" "Want 'em to yourself?" Mammon provided. Levi blushed and nodded in response. Mammon shrugged and sat down beside him. "We all understand that Levi. This is somethin' new for all of us. When I see MC bein' sweet with you guys I get this urge to just rip 'em off ya and hold 'em tight in my arms where ya guys can never touch 'em again," he sighed and put a hand on Levi's shoulder, "but then I see MC smile at me the same way they smile at Beel or you or Lucifer. I know that when I'm holdin' them, they're thinkin' of me and they're there with me because they treasure our time together. It's hard sometimes, and it hurts to admit, but you guys make MC happy, and I can't take that away from them." He nudged his younger brother gently, "Neither can you." Everyone sat quietly as they thought of Mammon's words. "They always bring me snacks after my workouts," Beel said with a small smile. "They always seem to know when I'm hungry and would just whip out snacks out of nowhere." Satan leaned onto his knees from where he sat on his chair. "They ordered me their favourite books from the human world on Akuzon. They wanted to do a trade. I'd read their favourites and they'd read mine. That way we could learn a bit about each other just by reading something that the other loved and would understand one another a little better." Belphie tiredly rubbed his eyes and leaned against Beel. "They wake me up after all class and before any meals," he chuckled softly at the memory. "No matter how much I snarled or insulted them, they'd just put their hands on their hips and patiently wait for me to wake up so that I wouldn't miss any of my classes or any meals."

Asmodeus giggled and smiled brightly. "That alone proves how much of an angel they are. Your demon side really shows when you're woken up." The others laughed as Belphegor stuck his tongue out at Asmo. "They would always give me their opinion on my outfits. I know it seems impossible, but even I get torn between which outfit I should bless the public with sometimes. MC would always be the voice of reason to help me choose," his eyes softened, "Though they always said at the end that the most beautiful thing about me was my heart, something no one could see but radiated from the outside-in." Lucifer sighed, closing his eyes as he put aside his pride, and spoke. "They check on me in the middle of the night. I swear they have an alarm. They'll come into my office to see if I'm still awake. If I am, so long as the work isn't truly urgent, they'll poke my cheek and play with my hair until I give in and go to bed."

Everyone turned to Levi. The otaku's face was bright red as he avoided everyone's gaze. "Your turn, Levi," Mammon ordered. "Come on. I know that MC's super gentle with ya. Ya have to have somethin' to add." Leviathan pouted before mumbling. "They'll hold my hand when we're in crowds and in public because they know how anxious it makes me. If I start to freak out, they'll just gently squeeze my hand and pull me along until they can find a quiet space where I can calm down a bit," he groans and glares at Mammon. "What's your point?"

"His point," Satan began calmly, "is that MC loves us all equally. They take special care to do the little things to ensure that we all know that we are loved by them." Mammon nodded and pointed and Satan. "Exactly!" Lucifer hummed in thought. "Though this doesn't fix the problem of MC having no regard for their own safety." Everyone winced. There was no denying that. You admitted it yourself. You were reckless, and in a place like the Devildom, that kind of behaviour would get you killed one day. What would happen if you weren't with them one day? Just like you currently weren't. Memories of your storm out swirled in all of their heads, and concern pooled heavily in their stomachs. "Has anyone heard from them yet?" Belphie asked, looking uncharacteristically nervous. But then again, he was always protective of you as he never wanted you to get hurt again, especially since he had been responsible for so much of your pain in the past. Beel opened his mouth to respond when Asmodeus's D.D.D. went off. Everyone eagerly stood, as Asmo pulled out the device and answered it without checking. "MC? Are you alright?" "Put it on speaker!" Levi snapped, crowding as close to his brother as he could. Asmodeus nodded and quickly did as told. The voice that answered wasn't you, as they had all hoped, but rather Solomon. "I'm afraid they're not," the brother's felt their blood freeze at Solomon's words, as time seemed to stand still around them. Solomon's voice was cold and stern, showing his obvious anger at the demons. "I apologize for not contacting you all sooner, but I was spending every last second of my time and energy on trying to keep MC from dying of blood loss. That, and Luke is quite determined to keep the lot of you as far from MC as possible. If it was up to him I wouldn't even be calling you all right now. I, however, figured that you should at least be made aware of their condition." None of them heard a thing after the words "dying from blood loss" reached their ears. Lucifer took the D.D.D. from Asmo's shaking hands. "What happened? The last we saw them they-" "Presumably walked away from a fight with all of you and was trying to come to us. Yes. I'm aware. I read Beelzebub's texts on MC's phone," everyone glanced at Beel. His brows narrowed as he kept his eyes fixed on the D.D.D. "To answer your question, MC didn't make it to Purgatory Hall last night. They were jumped by a group of three demons who seemed to think that human would make a delectable midnight snack. What do you think, Beelzebub? Is that true? Is the taste of human flesh, really so delicious? I think I've heard you comment as much once or twice before you all began your relationship," Solomon spat the words accusingly. Fury danced on his tongue as though he was Wrath himself. Beel winced back and put a hand on his stomach as flipped inside of him. Belphie growled at the mention in his defence. "Stop dancing around the subject and get to the point. What happened? Are they okay?" The demons were surprised to hear a snarl come from the other end. "I already told you, they aren't. Luke had opened a window to air out some of the kitchens after he failed a new recipe he was trying out when he heard their screams. By the time we got there one of them had eaten half of their right leg, while was one biting along their shoulder, and the other was trying to choke them to death. Simeon and I were able to get the heathens off of them and incinerated them on the spot, but MC was already unconscious. While we were fighting the demons, Luke was just barely able to cast enough healing spells to stop the bleeding and stabilize them. Simeon and I have been working ever since on using every spell, charm, and potion that we know to keep them alive and somehow attempt to heal their injuries." At the mention of MC's leg have been mostly eaten, Beel turned and threw up on the ground. No one moved to comfort him, as they were too distracted by their own states of shock. "A-Are-" Mammon began to choke out before clearing his throat. "Are they

alive? Please tell me they're alive." The answer hung just out of their grasp. Waving dangerously above them like a deadly knife held up by a string. No matter what the response would be, all the brothers felt as though they may faint. "They're alive. Simeon had to use all his power to bring their blood count levels up to a healthy level, and their shoulder was dislocated, they most likely have a concussion going off of their head injury, not to mention their right leg was unsalvagable and had to be amputated, but yes. They are, at the very least, alive." Mammon joined Beel. Satan stood still, though he had changed into his demon form and the aura of pure wrath filled every cranny of the room. Asmodeus held a hand over his mouth as tears streamed steadily down his face. Leviathan had stumbled away from the group and was in the beginning stages of a panic attack. Belphie stared at the phone with a bewildered expression, his eyes pricked with tears, as though he couldn't believe the words coming from Solomon's mouth.

Lucifer was doing everything he could not to hurl the phone across the room.

Solomon continued. "Luke is currently watching them and making sure that they remain stable, while Simeon and I rest. As such, you will have no luck if you try to see them right now. I'll text you when I wake up and then you can come to see them," with that, Solomon hung up. Anxiety, grief, and remorse clung to each of the brothers like a new skin. Earlier they were arguing that all of them had your love, and because of that, all of them had nearly lost you. ***Duh duh duh!!! Part three to come. Part three will probably be the final part, but I don't know. Haven't quite figured out how this is going to end yet. Though a heads up, a may fill out another request before pt. 3 is up just to give me a break from the heavy angst. Thank you all so much for supporting me! And thank you to @millenniumofpain for the request!***

[queenxxxsupreme]

Defender, Protector, Keeper (Arthur Morgan x f!reader)

A/N: This is one of those things I write that should have a first part but.... It doesn’t.... I do plan on making more within this little.... world??? With this mom!reader and her son Ben. So sorry for this mess. 

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: violence, nothing out of canon, Micah is mean to children, mute child (is that a warning?) fluff, Arthur being a father figureish thing, soft Arthur, I don’t know what else to tag, blood? it’s all canon to the game

Summary: Arthur steps in to help you with your son after a run in with Micah.

***

“Miss Y/L/N! Miss Y/L/N!”

You moved out of the tent upon hearing Mrs. Grimshaw calling your name. 

“Right here, Mrs. Grimshaw.” 

“There you are. Where is that boy of yours?” She looked around as if trying to peek into the tent. I’ve got a little chore for him and Jack.”

“He was just in here helping me with laundry, but he wouldn’t mind giving you a hand.” You turned to go into the tent. “Ben? Mrs. Grimshaw needs your help.”

Ben, your five-year-old son, put the clothing in his hand down and looked at you. 

“Come on with me, Ben. I’ve already got Jack over by the woods.” Susan gestured for him to follow her.

“What are the boys going to do?” You asked her. 

“Help Lenny and Sean pick some firewood. The little fellas ain’t gonna pick nothin’ but some small kindling. The fellas– Well, Lenny won’t let the boys hurt themselves.”

You fought the urge to volunteer to follow your son. It was just little kindling sticks and twigs. It wasn’t like they were going to chop down entire trees.

Susan, sensing your hesitation, stopped just at the edge of your tent.

“They aren’t going far into the woods at all, Y/N. Charles and Bill are on guard duty and Sean and Lenny are going to be with them. Nothin’s gonna happen to those boys.” She assured you.

You nodded your head, reaching down to run your fingers over Ben’s hair. 

“Go on and help Mrs. Grimshaw, Ben.”

He silently followed alongside her. 

You continued to fold laundry until it was finished. Once that was complete, you decided to go out and see if there was anything else around camp you could help with. 

It seemed to be a rather mellow evening. No one was out doing any jobs nor was anyone talking about any jobs, which was a rarity. In the three months that you had been staying with the Van Der Linde Gang, you had quickly realized their lifestyle was fast paced and there was almost always something to do. 

You made your way over towards the tent the girls in camp stayed in. 

“Hi, Y/N.” Tilly greeted you first. She was reading a book.

“Hey, Y/N!” Mary-Beth was also reading. Karen sat on a chair next to the two singing. “You wanna sit with us for a bit? You’ve been working hard all day.”

“That’s okay, Mary-Beth. I think I should go see if Ben is doing okay with Sean and Lenny.” You looked around towards the woods.

“What’s he doing with those two fools?” Tilly put her book down in her lap. 

“Mrs. Grimshaw had him and Jack helping them with firewood.”

“Last I saw, Lenny and Sean were sitting over by the fire.”

A knot began to form in your stomach. Why hadn’t your son returned to you?

You moved to search for Lenny and Sean, but they proved to be easy to find. They were sitting at a fire with a few other gang members. 

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” You cut off Sean. “Where is Ben at?”

“Hi, Miss Y/L/N.” Lenny gave you a charming smile. “Ben and Jack went over towards John and Abigail’s tent. Jack said they were going to play.”

“Thank you, Mr. Summers.” 

***

You did indeed find your son at John and Abigail’s tent. He sat outside of it with Jack. Jack was talking about some sort of story that Hosea had told him about a bear while your little Benny just kept playing with his half of the deck of cards. 

“Y/N.”

You looked up to Abigail. 

“Hi, Abigail.”

“I hope you don’t mind that Jack brought Ben over. I know Susan had them working earlier.”

“I don’t mind.” You shook your head, smiling. You crossed your arms as you watched Ben. Jack didn’t seem to care that Ben was silent and wasn’t responding to him. Jack had learned since you both arrived at camp that talking wasn’t something Ben did, so he usually did all of the talking for Jack. You were thankful for this. In the beginning, you weren’t sure how young Jack would react to your quiet son. 

“Do you want to sit down and have a cup of coffee with me?” Abigail asked. “I don’t usually get much down time, but neither do you. You’re always running around.”

“Have to keep busy, you know.” You chuckled a little. “Coffee sounds nice.”

The both of you got your drinks and then sat down at a table not too far from the boys.��

“They grow like weeds.” She thought out loud, shaking her head softly. “I’m gonna have to get Jack some new clothes soon. He’s about to be too big for nearly all the pants he’s got. Maybe Ben could fit into what Jack can’t wear. Ben is a little thing. That way you don’t have to go out and waste money. I mean, the clothes aren’t perfect. Jack has needed them patched more than once. But they work.”

“That’s very kind of you, Abigail. Thank you.”

She gave you a smile.

“Momma! Momma!” Jack called as he ran over to Abigail. 

Ben rushed up to you, a smile on his lips. His hair fell into his face and he tried to wipe it out of his eyes but he didn’t do too good of a job.

“Hi, love.” You smiled down at him, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Are you having fun?”

He nodded, looking over to Jack. 

“Momma, can we go give Sean his cards back?”

“Where is Sean at?” Abigail asked, looking around the camp. 

“He’s just on the other side of camp at one of the other fires.” You told her, recalling where you had seen him earlier.  

“If Miss Y/L/N says that Ben can go, then yes. You can. But you have to ask her.”

Ben tugged on your skirt as if to ask you.

“Miss Y/L/N! Can we take Sean his cards?” Jack waved the stack of cards around.

“I don’t see why not.”

“I’ll race you over there!” 

You watched as Jack took off first with Ben just behind him. 

“I’m glad Jack finally has someone to play with and keep him company.” Abigail smiled. 

“They get along so well.” You nodded. “I was a little…. worried at first, if I’m honest.”

“Oh really?”

“Just because…. Well, sometimes it’s hard for Ben.”

Abigail nodded her head understandingly. 

“He’s a sweet boy, Y/N. You raised him well.”

“Thank you-,”

“You dumb little rat! Watch where you’re going next time!”

You stood up upon hearing the sound of shouting. Feeling the urge to find out what had happened, you ventured across camp until you found your son and Micah Bell. Micah had a hold of Ben’s arm and was holding him at an awkward angle. 

“When someone speaks to you, little boy, you’re supposed to answer them!”

“Micah!” You raised your voice. 

Micah turned his head to look at you but didn’t let your son’s arm go. 

Anger bubbled in your veins. 

“Ah, the whore. Maybe someone better teach this boy manners before he ends up worse than his ma.”

You pushed against Micah’s chest. Ben was crying at this point, trying to grab onto your skirt anywhere he could but Micah was finding amusement in pulling the boy away from you. 

“Micah! Get your hands off of that boy!” Abigail shouted. 

The next few moments happened all too quickly for you to know what exactly happened. But Micah released Ben and he fell backwards to the ground. Your hand flew up to smack him and you landed a nice hit on his cheek, but he was quicker than you and far more skilled in fighting so the backhand to your cheek came out of seemingly nowhere. 

You took a few steps back to keep from falling flat on your ass. You ended up hitting something solid. A hand found your side and another your arm. 

It was Arthur Morgan. He only took a couple seconds to make sure you were steady on your feet before moving around you to deliver two punches to Micah. The nasty man fell back as blood began to pour out of his nose. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” Abigail rushed to one side of you and Mary-Beth came to the other. 

You didn’t answer them. You only pushed them away to get to your son. 

Tears streamed down his cheeks as he sat in the dirt where he had fallen. 

There was a hand on your wrist that stopped you just before you could get to him. 

Arthur turned you back around to face him. You pulled against him, wanting desperately to get to your son.

“You’ve got blood on ya, pumpkin.” He murmured quietly, using his thumb to wipe away the little bit of blood from your busted lip. “He don’t need to see that.”

“Th-Thank you.” You whispered. 

“Can I pick him up? Move him somewhere else for you?”

You nodded. 

Arthur let you go and moved towards Ben. 

“Come here, Benny. You alright?”

Ben nodded his head, shyly tucking his face into Arthur’s neck.

Arthur took him to a table and sat him down on it, then pulled out a chair for you. But you couldn’t sit down just yet. You had to make sure he was okay. 

Your hands cupped his face and tilted his head up so you could check him over for any marks. 

“Are you okay, love? Does anything hurt?”

He held up his hands to you, showing that his palms were scraped up and bleeding a little. He sniffled, his bottom lip quivering. 

“I’ll get somethin’ to clean those up, Y/N.” Mary-Beth spoke, moving towards Strauss’s wagon.

Upon seeing the scratches and bleeding scrapes from Ben falling back and catching himself on his hands, anger welled up inside of Arthur. 

He turned and started to make his way towards Micah. 

“Arthur! Arthur Morgan!” Abigail called after him, but she couldn’t stop him herself. “John! Mr. Smith! Please!”

You couldn’t pay attention to what was happening with Arthur right now. Ben was important and took priority. 

You brushed his hair back and sat down in front of him. 

“I’m so sorry you got hurt, love.” You leaned forward to kiss his cheek. 

He wrapped his arms around your neck, careful not to touch you with his injured hands, and then slid down into your lap. 

A few moments later, Mary-Beth returned with a bowl of water and a few rags. Tilly was with her too, helping to carry bandages. 

“Are you alright, Benji?” Tilly asked. He nodded his head without lifting it from your chest. “He didn’t get too hurt by that nasty Micah, did he?”

“Think it just spooked him more than anything.” You answered her. “Thank you, girls.”

The items were placed on the table and then they left. 

“Ben, I need you to sit on the table so I can reach you, love.”

He shook his head. 

“We’ve got to get these scratches cleaned up, okay? We don’t want them to get yucky.”

A hand found your shoulder. You looked to see Arthur moving around your chair. 

“Lemme give ya some help. That way Benny can stay on your lap where he’s comfortable.”

You nodded your head, giving him a little smile as a thank you. 

“Hey, Benny? Can I see your hands?”

Benny shifted around on your lap so that he could easily face Arthur. He gave Arthur one hand. 

“This might sting just a bit, but I promise it’ll be over soon.” 

Arthur got a rag wet and began to clean the dirt and little bit of blood from Ben’s small palm. 

“You’re a strong fella, Benny. You know that?”

Ben sniffled. 

“I heard you helped Sean and Lenny with getting firewood. Did you carry all the big logs by yourself?”

A little grin tugged at your son’s lips. He shook his head. 

Once he was cleaned up and Arthur had carefully wrapped up his hands, Ben looked around for Jack. He was with Hosea. The two weren’t very far away at all. Ben shimmied down from your lap but stayed by you. His eyes were focused on Jack. He wanted to go play with his friend. 

“You can go on, love.” You told him. He flashed you a little toothy smile before taking off in the direction of Hosea and Jack. 

Arthur stayed on his knees beside you for a few moments, watching Ben go. He let out a breath through his nose and shook his head. 

“That bastard is lucky I don’t put a bullet in him.” He rose to his feet, shaking his head. 

“Ben is okay, Arthur.” You turned your head to look at him. “He just…. He was just shaken up a bit. But he’s okay.”

“He hit you too. No man should ever treat a lady like that.” 

You admired his words, the way he viewed things. 

A little smile came to your lips and you watched him sit down next to you. 

“Well, Mr. Morgan. Not everyone has the same ideals as you.”

Arthur shook his head, fingers curling into a fist. He was still worked up over the situation. 

“It’ll be okay, Arthur.” You reached over to place your hand on his. “I can take a hit just fine. But I do appreciate you stepping in. It was really kind of you to help clean up Ben.”

He became a bit sheepish at your words, tipping his head down so you couldn’t see his eyes completely thanks to the brim of his hat. He cleared his throat. 

“Just-Just hate seein’ the little guy cry is all.”

You smiled a bit and gave his hand a squeeze before moving away from the table he sat at. 

Arthur watched you leave, then turned his head to watch the two youngest members of the gang with Hosea. Hosea was telling a story while Jack and Ben listened. 

Arthur turned his head back to see where you had gone off to. You were standing with Abigail near Pearson’s tent. Abigail said something that caused you to look at Arthur, a smile pulling at your lips then you looked back at her, shaking your head and bringing your hand up to cover your mouth. It was a poor attempt to hide a giggle. 

Arthur fixed the hat on his head and decided to go towards his horse. 

“When are you gonna tell her?” Charles spoke from his horse. He was messing with a strap of Taima’s saddle. 

“Tell her what?”

Charles rolled his eyes and shook his head. 

“I’m not oblivious to it, Arthur. I don’t think any of us in camp are.”

“To what?”

“That you fancy her.”

Arthur mounted his horse, shifting around in the saddle a bit.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Mr. Smith.” He adjusted his hat. 

“Yeah, I’m sure you don’t.”

“You wanna come with me? Or keep standing there goin’ on about it?”

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