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kindestofkings · 8 months

Text

dear john

elijah hewson x singer!reader

(ex!charles leclerc cause hes a hot red flag)

plot: its giving friends to strangers to friends again to lovers 🫶🏼

face claim: laufey <3

warning: spelling mistakes

authors note: this is for the lovely anon who requested a speak now inspired smau ! Hope this is okay?!? I was tempted by doing something on the vibe of speak now the song but imma think on it 🫡

yourusername

liked by charlesleclerc and others

yourusername wow last night on tour was something special 😢 to everyone who sangs my songs back to me and everyone who's supported my little dreams, I LOVE YOU.

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lucydacus killing it !

yourusername luv you <333

phoebebridgers voice of an ANGEL

yourusername ooh stop im blushinggg

charlesleclerc beautiful as always mon ange

ynfan1 post concert blues are toooo real

wagsandstuff

liked by ynfan1 and others

wagsandstuff huh that doesn't look like yourusername to us.... did the couple of 3 years break up without telling us??

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ynfan1 nooooooo that girl on twitter was right ah

ynandcharlesshipper charlessss man don't do this

charlesfan she was always feeding off of him

ynfan2 she has her own career you do know that right? she a really popular singer

ynfan2 not charles cheating on our QUEEN

yourusername just unfollowed charlesleclerc

yourusername just added to their story!

lol gonna go heal my heart I guess lol

replies:

yourmum awh my beautiful girl :( glad you're coming home 💘

↳ can't wait to see you mam

yourbestfriend men are literal pigs.

phoebebridgers he's an idiot, here for you if you need anything

elijahhewson hey I know it's been awhile since we last spoke, but the lads and I are always here for you. I should've been better at keeping in touch, but I'm so sorry this happened to you.

↳ hey E, missed you! I'm just as much at fault, guess we all just got so busy with tours (both so successful heheh). where abouts in the world are you? I'm heading home for awhie maybe we could all catch up?

↳ elijahhewson deadly! myself, ryan and josh are home and bobby is back next week, call around whenever

inhalerfanaccount

liked by inhalerfan1 and others

inhalerfanaccount did you guys know that yourusername is friends with inhaler??? I found all of these oldies while lurking her insta !

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inhalerfan1 bless they're so young, they all must of been friends during school !

inhalerfan2 crazy to think they've all become so successful

ynfan1 wow my two worlds colliding

ynfan2 I've always secretly hoped yn and eli would get together

inhalerfanaccount friends to strangers to friends to lovers hits soooo hard

yourusername

liked by bobbyskeetz and others

yourusername time is a terrifying thing..

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yourmam I could probably find an even earlier pic...

bobbyskeetz I beg please no inhalerfan1 pleaseeeeee

elijahhewson smash x4

joshjenkinson_ the gang getting back together has 2024 winninggg

(liked by yourusername,ryanmcmahon_15 and others)

ynfan1 yesss bitch remind that silly boy who drives in circles of all the hot friends you have !!!

(liked by elijahhewson and others) ynfan2 hahahah eli woke up and choose chaos

yourusername

liked by phoebebridgers and others

yourusername turning all this heartbreak into something good ! dear john is the rawest I've ever been in my songwriting, treat her with love x

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ynfan1 so so incredibly beautiful, thank you for sharing

lucydarcus you're a wonder

ryanmcmahon_15 sobbing uncontrollably and ready to fight him

bobbyskeetz you good bro ?

charlesfan1 tough day to be a charles fan

ynfan2 omg those lyrics are HEARTBREAKING

inhalerfanupdates

liked by eliswife and others

inhalerfanupdates WHO HAS THIS MAN SO SMILEY???

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inhalerfan1 FOR REAL?? hes usually so moody

elijahhewson posted to their close friends!

replies yourusername pure stalker when did you take this pic??

vogue

liked by yourusername and others

vogue with just days before the release of her highly anticipated spohmore album we chatted to yourusername about love, loss and all things in between;

" you dont realise how easy love can be until you're with the right person. its the most annoying thing to hear when you dont have it but some how I was fortunite enough to discover"

find out what else the singer told us at the link in our bio !

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yourusername THANK YOU FOR HAVING ME

ynfan1 shes so happy and in love

ynfan2 how can one person be so talented, smart AND intelligent

charlesfan1 eww cant believe charles used to date her!

ynfan3 love how shes not petty like the leclerc fangirlies clearly still are..

yourusername

liked by elijahhewson and others

yourusername a year and a half ago I had my heartbroken, felt completed untethered and so so confused. today I give you my pride and joy!

this album features songs I wrote as a sobbing mess, some I wrote while I was healing and finally some I wrote after I opened my eyes and embraced what I had all along.

I love them all, I love everyone who worked on it with me and I escially love you.

comments have been restricted

yourusername

liked by lucydarcus and others

yourusername one single thread of gold tied me to you <3

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elijahhewson hell was the journey

yourusername but it brought me heaven. bobbyskeetz gross yourusername child

joshjenkinson_ my parents

yourmam my favourite pair !

evehewson sobbing it was always meant to be

phoebebridgers the sweetest love for the sweetest soul

(liked by elijahhewson and yourusername)

ynfan1 OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG

finished

authors note: ahh im a broken record with the friends from home trope but its my favourite 🥲 hope you all enjoy, please as always let me know what you think!!

#inhaler band #elijah hewson imagine #inhaler dublin #elijah hewson fanfic #elijah hewson x reader #elijah hewson #fake instagram #fake insta post

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aryastark-valarmorghulis · 30 days

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Loustat on tour by yours truly, 10K, Rated E, Ooh Ooh Ooh Wah Ahhh etc etc...

Summary:

Lestat is rehearsing for the tour. He’s also in a situationship with his ex-husband, who is the Vampire Lestat’s official photographer.

Read on Ao3

#loustat #iwtv #amc iwtv #rockstar lestat #lestat/louis #my writing

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aziraphales-library · 9 months

Note

hello!! i love you all so much (platonic) and appreciate the work you do. do you have any recs where one/both of the ineffable husbands/wives is getting out of a relationship and goes to the other for comfort and maybe realizes they've been in love with them the whole time? thanks so much <333333

Here are some break-up friends-to-lovers fics for you...

I'm All Yours by FeralTuxedo (E)

Anthony J. Crowley knew he looked like a walking mid-life crisis. The tight jeans, half-up bun and sunglasses positively screamed ‘I left my wife for the babysitter and bought a vintage car just to feel alive again.’ In an adaptation of his life, he’d be played by Hugh Grant. He looked like a divorcee desperate for action, and it didn’t help that he was currently standing outside a nightclub surrounded by drunk twenty-year-olds. But Crowley wasn’t here for a good time tonight. He was on a rescue mission. Crowley has been rescuing his friend Aziraphale over and over again for a decade. Hopelessly in love, ready to jump at a moment’s notice when he was needed. When Aziraphale finally breaks up with his partner, Crowley is there to help him through what’s looking to be one hell of a mid-life crisis. Things could finally change. If he manages not to mess it up again. A human AU with a whole forest’s worth of pining squeezed into a single day.

…And They Were Roommates by Mimsynims (E)

“You know… I just remembered that Richard and I were going away for a few days next month.” Something devious came over him. “Richard paid for it, but the booking is in my name.” Crowley quickly caught on to what he was getting at. “Ooh, I see. That’s convenient.” He grinned. “For us." When Aziraphale's boyfriend Richard (Dick) breaks up with him, he and his roommate Crowley hijacks an intended couples' vacation and uses it for themselves. Lines that had started to blur even before their trip gets even more blurry - which perhaps isn't the best thing when both are hiding a crush on the other (and communication isn't their strong suit).

Ezra at the Wedding by tenandi (E)

Ezra's ex is moving on but he's determined to stop the wedding. With his handsome neighbor masquerading as his new love interest, will he win back his true love and rewrite the happy ending he deserves? - Crowley was leaning against the doorframe, obviously hungover and running on about two hours of sleep. A ripped t-shirt hung off one shoulder over a pair of boxers with devil ducks printed all over them. To top it all off, he was wearing black velvet slippers embroidered with his monogram. In any other instance, Ezra would have laughed but he was too busy being wrapped up in his anguish. “What do you want, Crowley?” Ezra fumed. “I am having a moment here!”

You are HoMe (Half of Me) by angelsnuffbox (T)

Aziraphale had gotten dumped, plain and simple. But that small detail wasn’t nearly as important as all the things that happened after he’d gotten dumped - such as coming to a few realisations about his best friend of sixteen years.

Hooped Earrings by OfEden (E)

After 29 years Azira comes out. While her family and ex boyfriend don't support her, her life long best friend is there by her side every step of the way.

Crawling Back To You by madrabbitwrites (NR)

College-age Aziraphale pushed his closest friend away and moved out of town with his married Literature professor in a panicked attempt at escaping his family’s rampant homophobia. Years later, devastated by a dreadful break-up, he’s returned to his small hometown to live with his brother and attempt to heal his broken heart (and broken life, if he were being honest with himself). What he didn’t count on was his old friend Crawley- now calling himself Crowley and looking dashing as ever- to have returned as well. Crawley’s wounds from their last argument are deep and Aziraphale may never be able to regain what they once had, but he’d certainly like to try. The two of them need to have an actual conversation, but that’s not really how these plots go, is it?

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable wives #break up #friends to lovers #adult omens #human au #mod d

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eqt-95 · 10 months

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a new kind of romance, pt 7

part 6 | cuddles - - - -

🎁 | mistletoe magic

“Ooh, look she’s doing it again.”

“Doing what?” Kara asked, shrugging off her jacket to join Nia and Brainy at a hightop laden with empty glasses.

“Mistletoe magic,” Nia sighed fondly.

“Mistletoe what-?” Kara glanced at Brainy who looked flush with a smudge of Nia’s shade of red on his own lips, and then her eyes tracked to Kelly and Alex two tables away giggling under the glowing branch of green leaves that glistened with the telltale golden sparks of magic. Of Lena’s magic. “Oh.”

She found the culprit loitering on the far end of the bar nursing a drink, smiling, and looking totally and completely huggable, and Kara’s mood immediately brightened. Not that it was sour: it was Al’s holiday party after all.

Kara’s natural reaction to seeing Lena was to superspeed over and engulf her into a super-sized hug and hope the burst of surprise and laughter would land quiet and private into the crook of her neck.

She very nearly did exactly that except just as she was about to shift into sixth gear and race over Kara realized Lena wasn’t alone. More specifically, she was bookended by two people: Sam and... Andrea.

Which was… fine. Kara loved Sam and all the support she had for Lena. But Andrea? Kara was trying to find warmth for Andrea.

“How long has she been here?” Kara asked before the green-eyed monster could be swallowed down.

“Who?” Nia asked, distracted by a stuffed potato skin.

“No one," Kara blinked, brushing away imaginary crumbs from the table, "nothing. Forget it-”

“I believe Kara is referring to either Ms. Rojas or Ms. Arias,” Brainy interrupted, being all correct and stuff. Kara shot him a dark look that went missed because he was still trying to rub off remnants of lipstick.

“Oh, dunno,” Nia replied with a shrug. “I think they came together?”

“Sam and Andrea?” Kara asked for confirmation even though she definitely didn’t care.

“No, Andrea and Lena.”

“Oh. Sure. Right.”

Positively, absolutely, for sure wasn’t bothered by that.

“Why?” Kara asked nearly a minute later, interrupting a conversation she wasn’t listening to.

Nia paused mid-sentence and glanced at a very distraught-looking Kara. “Why what?”

“Why did they come together?”

“Who?”

“I believe Kara is referring to Ms. Rojas and-”

“Did they have a work meeting?” Kara interrupted, eyes jumping back toward Andrea who was far too cozy and far too close to Lena which was… fine. It was. It really was.

Nia’s mouth opened to respond. Then it closed. Then her eyes narrowed. Then they lifted. Then a smirk the size of the Nile spread across her face. “Why do you care?”

And Kara didn’t like the Nile-sized smile. She didn’t like it one bit. “No reason.”

“I dunno. Brainy, does she look a bit jealous to you?”

“I’m not-” Kara tried to cut in - whined, practically.

“Kara, you do look rather, as they say, ‘put-out’.”

“Does it have anything to do with Andrea subtly guiding Lena toward that mistletoe next to them-?”

“What? She isn’t-”

“Or are you just jealous Lena’s full attention is on her ex at all?”

Two things happened next: the first was that Kara fish-mouthed and blushed furiously because yea, obviously she was jealous. Who wouldn’t be jealous of someone getting Lena’s time. Not that Kara wanted to control her time or who she spent it with or…

And then the second thing happened. And that second thing was like an Acme anvil falling on her Wile E. Coyote state of confusion: she registered Nia's actual words.

“Her ex? Who’s ex? Sam’s ex? You… you mean Sam and Andrea, right? They’re exes?”

Right? she shouted in her brain and maybe out loud.

The look on Nia’s face did not support this thesis because the look on Nia’s face was like she was looking at an alien, which technically Kara was, but ‘idioms’.

“I don't know about Ms. Aria, but Ms. Rojas dated Lena for a number of years at boarding school,” Brainy confirmed and shattered Kara’s hopes and dreams and maybe her heart too just a little bit because at that exact moment Lena burst into laughter and Andrea looked so proud for being the source of said laughter and no, Kara’s eyes were not glowing red that would be preposterous but if they were it’s not like anyone would notice with all the colorful lights hung everywhere-

“Hey you know your eyes are glowing, right?” Nia asked before sucking up a bright purple drink from a tiny blue straw and smiling like the dang cheshire cat.

Ok, so yea, maybe her eyes glowing red wasn’t, like, the greatest.

“I need to get some food,” Kara mumbled, abandoning Brainy and Nia for the bar where M’gann was telling off a drunk Haverack wobbling on of his stool and J’onn was stepping up to intervene. Before his stony disposition could do its trick though, a tickle of gold flecks from overhead stalled the entire confrontation.

Kara wasn’t going to pout. She wouldn’t do that. She was a way calmer, cooler, collected-er kryptonian than that.

What Kara was going to do though was lean against the bar and stare longingly at M’gann laughing when J’onn pointed to the glowing mistletoe that had not-so-subtly appeared above them.

The Haverack fell off his stool again, but that wasn’t what kept Kara’s attention.

“I’m sure M’gann is willing to share, darling.”

It wasn’t fair that Lena could make Kara jump and send her super calm, cool, collected demeanor catapulting out the nearest window with a little whisper. It also wasn’t fair that Lena was so so pretty leaning in next to her while wearing nothing more than a simple pair of jeans and sweater. A sweater that was too long in the arms and bunched at Lena’s wrists and made Kara want to pull her close and fly her home and wrap them both in a blanket for the rest of eternity.

Naturally Kara replied with a stammer and in a fit of indecision, she grabbed Lena's hand and also winked and then booped her head against Lena's shoulder.

Which was far from normal. It was because Lena was so pretty tonight.

But Lena was always pretty. She could make cardboard overalls look good. And sure, Kara had seen from a distance that she was just as jaw-dropping as ever, but seeing her up close? in Kara’s own space? where she could get lost in Lena’s soft pretty skin? where she could feel the piercing meant-only-for-her gaze and get all sorts of weak-kneed and breathless? where she could take in the perfect shampoo-perfumey-Lena mix that couldn’t be imitated because Kara, curious and missing Lena while she was off saving acquisitions and mergers once in Shanghai, had tried recreating the scent but failed?

“I thought you weren’t going to make it. Duty calling and all that.”

“I’ve got one ear on the city, and deadlines can wait one more night,” Kara explained, trying to ignore the distraction that was Lena. Always Lena.

"Don't let Cat hear you say that," Lena smirked.

“Did I miss anything?”

“Just the usual: M’gann’s eggnog has half the bar dancing, though it looks like some hit it a bit too hard,” Lena said with a nod toward the passed-out Haverack, “and Nia is dragging Brainy under every green leaf in the place,” Lena chuckled. "Not sure whose going to tap out first."

“It sounds like someone is to blame for that ‘mistletoe magic’,” Kara replied, nudging Lena with her shoulder.

Lena hummed, her feigned ignorance betrayed by a revealing smirk.

“Care for some?”

“S-some?” Kara choked, ears ringing.

“Mistletoe magic,” Lena explained slowly, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow arching with the elegance of a chandelier or an umbrella or hand-painted porcelain or-or… Kara didn’t know. She wasn’t thinking clearly.

Kara glanced across the bar toward Alex who was giving her a knowing stare and supportive smile that really looked more like a grimace mixed with nausea which meant only one thing: here it was, the chance. The chance Kara had spent minutes and hours and days pacing and hoping and yammering Alex’s ear off for.

She had gone through every stage of fretting and panicking and unintentionally tearing her couch cushions in half before Kelly’s calmer touch gave her the confidence to believe in her own feelings and maybe - maybe - even Lena's.

Because that’s what Lena was implying now, right?

It was a frosting-covered finger. It was an intimately placed zipper. It was nonexistent personal boundaries that Kara wanted and wanted and wanted.

Now was the chance to put those feelings in motion. It was the perfect setting: holiday tunes were playing, lights were twinkling, the laughter and raucous of friends and family surrounded them. It couldn’t be any better, which was why Kara took a readying breath, propped herself against the bar in a way she hoped looked confident, and offered what Alex would later call the most manic-looking smile she’d ever seen.

“Well if it’s on the table…” Kara began bravely with a throat-clearing to steady herself, “uh, do I get to… er, you know,” she continued with the elegance of a newborn calf taking its first steps, “to pick?”

The wagging eyebrows probably didn’t help her efforts because she was met with a small Lena scowl that made Kara swallow and mutter some incoherent set of sounds and extend her finger toward the sprinkle of mistletoe hanging around the bar like Lena didn’t understand.

But then Lena said “oh” in this small sort of way that made Kara think that maybe Lena didn’t understand. So she clarified:

“Put me in, coach!” Kara said, puffing up her chest with the kind of confidence reserved only for superheroes and poorly thought through actions.

And technically they were words. Maybe not the best words. Definitely not her best words. But together, it made a semi-coherent sentence that surely - definitely - made her intentions clear.

“Put you… in? I wasn’t… I meant-”

“You meant that since everyone else is… you know...” Kara said conspiratorially with a hand gesture that was meant to say everything else. “I don’t wanna miss out on that holiday spirit, right?”

“I didn’t, uh,” Lena began, a small cough and blush making her discomfort clear which made Kara want to hoover back those misguided intentions real fast and keep her dumb mouth shut.

Then Lena’s scowl deepened to a version Kara wasn’t familiar with and definitely couldn’t identify which made Kara’s heart plummet. “Right, of course. Who did you-”

“I call dibs!” came an excited shout from behind Lena.

And yea, maybe Kara should’ve been better at observing her surroundings because there was Sam.

Who was standing on the other side of Lena.

The whole time.

Not like it could be Kara’s fault though: Lena just had a way of making the rest of the world disappear.

“Uh- '' Kara stammered because that technically - definitely - was not what she meant and having Sam sidekick her way through Kara’s ‘feelings’ reveal was not the chance she had pictured. But from the look of tempered frustration on Lena’s face, maybe she should be thanking Sam.

“Pucker up babes,” Sam said, dancing around Lena to split the two. “Lena, you don’t mind, right?” Sam asked, eyes bright and mischievous and far too excited for Kara’s waning courage.

“I don’t really think Kara needs my permission,” Lena replied with a tone that sounded… mad? Was Lena mad?

“I meant the green leafy goods; get your magic hands moving, Luthor,” Sam said, jazz hands waving at her own sides.

“I-I'd only meant it for, uh, real couples-”

“Oh,” Kara answered while a ton of metaphorical bricks squeezed her chest empty of air and hope and confidence.

Kara peered past Sam toward Lena who looked flush and annoyed and her jaw was clenched like a vice and, oh gosh, Kara had misread the whole situation.

Maybe it wasn’t a frosting-covered finger or an intimately placed zipper or nonexistent personal boundaries that Kara wanted and wanted and wanted.

Maybe Kelly and Alex had talked her into a false sense of security. Maybe she had just barged in and ruined a perfectly good time. Had she just ruined a perfectly good friendship? Kara didn’t have an answer so instead she stared at the floor which was peppered with fallen mistletoe leaves and dirty napkins and cobwebs and… was that a ring?

“Oh relax, Lena. What’s the harm in a little-”

“Sam, enough-”

“I was kidding,” Kara practically shouted as an uncomfortable hand fidgeted with a pair of absent glasses.

For having super hearing, Kara could only make out pin-drop silence, Sam’s shocked “what?” and Lena’s racing heartbeat.

“There isn’t, you know… I was just kidding. Can you imagine that? Supergirl kissing someone? Here? And-and besides, Lena’s right - you’re right,” Kara rambled, looking at her best friend who was decidedly not looking at her, “real couples only, and there isn’t, you know, anyone here who… uhm, yea.”

And then she forced a laugh because she wanted all of it to end.

It sort of did after that:

Awkwardness ensued through silent sips and half-glances. Sam did her best to rope in the others, but Kara couldn’t shake the discomfort.

Then Alex and Kelly offered their goodbyes - “babysitters are expensive!” - with Kara getting a tighter hug than usual from Alex that didn't make anything feel better.

Sam followed moments later with a matching reason and what looked like an apologetic smile - “minus the babysitter part. Ruby would skin me alive if I hired a babysitter. She already thinks she’s twenty.”

Nia, with Brainy in tow, made some excuse about needing to replace a lightbulb that no one believed because by then the color Nia’s lips had started the night with was now the color of Brainy's face, neck, and collar.

Which left Kara and Lena, and boy did Kara want to apologize for overstepping. Her fingers tapped on a bottle she didn’t remember getting while mustering the courage and bravery she thought she remembered having. She almost found it again.

Almost.

Except that’s the exact moment Kara realized it wasn’t just her and Lena, because Andrea picked that exact moment to reappear.

“Where’d everyone go?”

Lena said words and Kara nodded but didn’t hear. What she did hear was Andrea’s suggestion that they call it a night. Then she heard Andrea propose she and Lena share a cab - “we live two blocks apart, after all” - and within seconds had both jackets at the ready.

Then Lena, who hadn’t said another word to Kara all night, looked briefly conflicted toward Kara before nodding.

“Goodnight, Kara.”

And then it did end. It ended without the right words or a hug and definitely not a kiss. It ended before it even began with Kara standing alone under a branch of forgotten mistletoe.

- - - - - - part 8 | new years

#but when did that mistletoe appear?!?!#what is brevity #symptoms of writing #new romances #supercorp #supercorp ficlet #lena luthor #kara danvers

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delta-pavonis · 8 months

Note

Ooh, from the wip game: former mafia hob :D

I know I have posted bits and pieces of this in various places on Tumblr and Discord, but below is probably the largest segment of the WIP I have ever posted at once. And this is maybe about a quarter of it? It features an OC that I made up and then it turned out I was prescient because in my head Sandro looks pretty much exactly like Ethan from Maneskin. Also, to no one's surprise, this gets NSFW at the end. (WHAT?!? SMUT?!?!?! FROM MEEEE?!?!?!)

"And this guy, this Burgess, just had him locked in a giant glass sphere in his basement!"

"A human? Wouldn't he need air?"

Hob was in an ex-pat bar on the south end of Okinawa, doing a very good job of continuing to live completely off the grid just as he had for the past eight years.

The old man started up again and Hob strained to hear him across the length of the bar. "He just looked like a human. I worked there sixteen years and he didn't age a minute, hell he barely moved. I heard Burgess bragging once about how it was the God of Dreams that he caught! All I know for sure is what I heard directly, which is that Burgess kept asking him for things – magic, money, immortality – and the pale fucker just kept glaring at him. Never spoke a word. Just stared daggers with those unearthly blue eyes. I am telling you, if looks could kill, that old bastard would be dead thirty times over. Whenever that fairy King or whatever the fuck that shaved panther of a human-looking thing is gets out…" The guy whistled, leaning back from the bar and shaking his head. "The entire Burgess family tree is going to burn."

This man had Hob’s full attention now. He grabbed his drink and moved around to sit on the barstool next to him.

"I am sorry, where did you say you are from?" Hob asked, trying for casual, sizing up the ex-military guy. He had a muddled accent, but with a heavy dose of south London. His salt-and-pepper hair had been kept buzzed even though he had clearly been out of the service for a long time.

"What's it to you?" The man was immediately bristly, crossed his arms over his chest. He was defensive and closed off and Hob was going to need to work to get more information. Hob sighed. Or take the easy way out… just pay him for the information.

The Okinawan summer was too hot for this. Hob would give it one shot, try to explain, but if that didn't work it was Plan E for Easy. "I have an interest in the supernatural. And you certainly seem to have seen something. Could I ask you a few more questions?" The old-timer just stared at him, completely deadpan, unblinking. It made Hob take a sip of his whisky with its melted ice and then press the glass to his temple. "I can pay you for your time."

He perked up immediately after that.

> > > > > | | < < < < <

Two days later – and after an exchange of enough money to set that old-timer’s family up for generational wealth – Hob was settling into his Business Class seat on the long haul from Tokyo Haneda to Rome Fiumicino. He tapped out an email telling Gio his flight to Palermo was going to get in at 08:20 and would he be so kind as to send around a car? He needed to stop and see il Barone first (because his knee was bad enough as it was without getting kneecapped for failing to pay his respects) and then straight to the grotta. And make sure the shovel is in the car? Grazii.

It was his Stranger. It had to be. The description was uncanny. And the quick sketch Hob had drawn on a bar napkin had resulted in a rather emphatic positive identification.

And even if it wasn’t his Stranger, there was something being kept in that basement that probably needed rescue. There were paltry few things in the world, as Hob had learned over the centuries, that deserved to have their freedom completely taken from them.

Almost 22 hours after sending that email to Gio, Hob stepped out into the salty Mediterranean air of Palermo and sighed. His white linen three-piece suit with light blue shirt fit the aesthetic of the region as much as the weather. The smells, the breeze, the sounds – yeah, okay, Hob had missed it. But this was no time to linger. Focus, Hob! First, he had to give his regards to Salvatore and then he could go dig up his stash from his time in the Family Business. He put on his hat and dark sunglasses and walked out into the sunlight.

In the aftermath of 1889 Hob had, unsurprisingly, a lot of anger and frustration to work out. He ended up falling back on a reliable skill set he hadn't tapped in awhile: violence.

It was bare knuckle boxing first, which earned him enough money to leave for the States without disturbing his securities in the UK. He continued with underground boxing for a bit, because he was fucking good at it, until he got noticed.

Hob got picked up by Giuseppe “the Clutch Hand” Morello and Ignazio “the Wolf” Lupo and the rest was history.

First they took him in as a base-level associate, just another meatheaded guy who could fuck people up for them. And he made it to the Castellammarese War, which was as good a time as any to fake his own death.

But, by pure happenstance and a whole lot of luck, Salvatore D’Aquila caught him in the act, pig's blood everywhere, mutilated body that clearly wasn't Hob at his feet and well. That had required a bit of explaining. Explaining lead to talking, talking lead to negotiating, and suddenly Hob was heading upstate to train with the best.

And so it was, with some excellent mentorship on handling firearms and his innate knack for getting himself out of trouble, Hob became one of the most feared associates in Cosa Nostra.

In fact, he became The Associate.

See, he was never going to be a made man; he didn't have the proof of a Sicilian, or even Italian, heritage that he needed to be a ranking Family member. But any capo worth his salt wasn't going to turn away this level of skill and finesse.

And in return they had kept his secret. Mostly because they knew they had given him the means to kill them all if it was otherwise.

Well, it wasn’t like the entire Family knew. Just Salvatore and his immediate blood relations. Who he needed to stop and say hello to first, then to business.

Once the meeting was done, he headed to the coast.

When Hob left the Family Business he had literally put all of his gear into an air-tight oak box and buried it. One of the things Hob had learned over the centuries was that, more often than not, symbolism mattered. So it wasn't a surprise to find that when Hob opened the wooden box with a crowbar it was like seeing good friends come back from the dead. His shotgun. His sabre. His pistols.

He buried these along with his career in Cosa Nostra in 1998. It should have been earlier, but the six or so years after 1989 were a bit of an alcohol and cocaine tinted haze and it took him another three years after getting sober to work on his exit strategy. But once he was out he had abandoned it all and never looked back.

In fact, it was only in the past few months that Hob had let himself pick up a gun again to do some target shooting. Suddenly he was very glad of that coincidence.

After filling his duffle Hob stared down into the empty casket of his former life. He had never, ever expected to be in this position again, most certainly not less than a decade after abandoning it.

Crouched amongst the sand and the rocks of the beachfront cave, he ran a hand through his sweaty hair and sighed. "The things I do for you, Stranger." He closed the lid.

"Ti Umbra?" Sandro had been watching Hob silently up until now. Even as a little kid, Alessandro had called the thing that haunted Hob his Shadow. He was an eerily perceptive child, often ostracized from his peers because of it – which of course meant that when Hob had arrived in Sicily in the early 1980s they had become easy friends. Now in his early 30s, Sandro was mostly a driver, but knew his way around a weapon, as any son of a Don should. Hob had hoped he would leave, go to college, get out, but Hob never did convince him to. He was a good kid, he didn't deserve this kind of life.

"Si." Hob put his hands on his knees and levered himself up. "I think that he needs my help." A sigh as he kept staring at the box. "Am I that obvious?"

"Only to me, Bettino." The nickname had come from the diminutive of the diminutive of Roberto, which Sandro’s family knew Hob as. It was an endearment used only between them. "Only He could bring you back to this, to the Family." Hob felt the other man's hand on his shoulder and laid his own over it. The feel of those fingers was achingly familiar. "Let me come with you. You should not go on the rampage you are about to embark on alone, my friend."

Hob picked up Sandro's hand, placed a kiss on the knuckles. "Not a chance. I won't put you in such danger. And I won't let you see me like that." Alessandro hadn’t even been born yet when the Associate was working hardest, in the heydays of Murder, Inc., and all that entailed, when Hob rarely had a night when he wasn’t washing the gunpowder from his hands.

Sandro laughed. "I have seen you every other way, why not this one?" His arms went around Hob's shoulders from behind and he moved his lips to the shell of Hob's ear before dropping into Sicilian. "One more go at it? For old time's sake? Last chance to use me as His stand-in." He laughed even more at Hob's sharp inhale. "You think I didn't know? Oh, Bettino." He nuzzled into the hair at Hob’s nape. "That's how I was able to pretend you really loved me."

"Sandro!" Hob pushed away and whirled around, looking over his former lover’s dark hair and olive-bronze skin, high cheekbones and pouting pink lips, wiry build and black-brown eyes. Not wanting to misspeak, he answered back in English. "I did – and still do – really love you, you know that."

"Yes, but not as you love Him." Sandro shook his head as he moved in to press their foreheads together, arms back around Hob's shoulders. "You would not come back to the Family for me. You would not go to war for me. And that is okay. I know my place. I made my peace with that years ago, when you left." He leaned in to speak against Hob's lips. "But I would ask if you would have me one last time."

Hob let Sandro pull him to the ground amongst the rocks inside the small cave. Hob's shirt and vest were already discarded, his sleeves rolled up and his collar unbuttoned. He unbuttoned Sandro's shirt and pulled it down so it caught in his elbows, draped down his back low enough for Hob to run his lips over the huge tattoo of Santa Rusulia – Patron Saint of Palermo, invoked for protection in times of plague – wearing a crown of roses and standing amidst a copse of lilies outside a cave not so different from the one they are currently in, looking out to the sun setting over the sea, that covered his entire back. Hob drew that image, originally charcoal on paper, while they were sitting on the beach watching the sun set on Sandro's 19th birthday in the early ‘90s. He didn't know that Sandro had even saved the picture until a shootout a year later had Hob ripping off the young man’s shirt to stop the bleeding and found the image permanently inked into his skin.

Sandro knew more about Hob than anyone living. They had spent four years as lovers in the mid-'90s. Hob had gotten sober for Sandro. He had left Cosa Nostra for Sandro, had begged for Sandro to come with him. But he was too scared of his father, Salvatore “the Baron,” to leave. He was worried about the fate of his mother, his sisters. Hob couldn’t begrudge him that. It still stung.

Hob shucked Sandro's pants down his thighs and moved his hand around to his ass, thinking that he would tease him dry before trying to find something slick back in the car. Instead, Hob's fingers found warm, flat silicone. He slumped forward with a moan and his forehead hit between Sandro's shoulder blades. "Oh fuck, Sandro. You have been full with this the entire time?"

"Ready for you, Bettino." He sighed, soft and sweet as candy. He let out a high-pitched cry as Hob slowly pulled the plug out and Christ it was huge Hob would be able to just…

There was a thmpt as the silicone object hit the dense sand a few feet away, flung aside as Hob frantically tried to get his slacks down as quickly as possible. As soon as his cock was free Sandro's hands were reaching back to grab it, lubricant that the horny little weasel must have been carrying in his bloody pocket smeared all over his fingers, readying Hob to just…

Sandro sat back and Hob slid into him to the hilt, all in one stroke, easy as breathing, smooth and perfect.

They stayed that way for a long moment, readjusting to each other. The first movement was Hob's hands stroking from Sandro's thighs up to his chest then pressing them together. When they started rocking Sandro let his head fall back with a sob.

"Did you keep your hair long for me, too?" Hob wrapped the waist-length ponytail around his fist and tugged. It made Sandro moan just as sweetly as it had all those years ago. "That's it, sing for me, bell'uccellino." He snapped his hips up and Sandro wailed; he always was such a vocal lover, his pretty bird.

#yes another mafia AU #in this one Hob is still canon immortal and Dream is still King of Dreams and Nightmares #fishbowl rescue fic #Dreamling #Pavonis writes

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kscheibles · 1 year

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e la vita ch. 1

content warnings: f! reader, drug mentions, drinking, emetophobia, bisexuality (homophobes and biphobes begone I will block u so fast)

word count: 3.8k

I didn’t want to be in Italy this summer.

That makes me sound ungrateful or something, but it’s the truth. Three months ago, I had planned to stay in Brooklyn with Claire all summer long. Hosting dinner parties, eating greasy breakfast sandwiches, dancing to old $1 records in our cramped apartment, picnicking in Prospect Park, and being totally, delusionally in love.

That was before things went south, she stopped trying and left me with more rent than I could possibly pay in the city. When Christina had first mentioned that a group of her friends was headed to Italy for the summer, I’d dismissed the possibility of going with them. Not only did I dread cohabitating with her wealthy, influencer friends who seemed to deal only in clout, I thought I’d be otherwise engaged. Weeks later, I’d gone back to her groveling, asking if I could sleep on the pull-out couch in Nina’s family villa for the summer. Luckily, the sofa was still available.

Now I sit at a wrought iron table – lease broken and all of my belongings sold to wealthy Manhattanites – in the warm yellow light of the Lombard sunset. Around me are chatty, outgoing girls, each more beautiful than the last. They gab about clubs and brands and boys. In the sea of Botox and iPhones, I cling to Christina like a life buoy. I push my tortellini around my plate to make it look like I have an interest in food, but I really don’t. I’m jet-lagged and uncomfortable. And even if that wasn’t the case, I’ve barely eaten since the breakup, relying on oat lattes and dirty water dogs to keep me alive.

“Try the pasta,” Christina jabs, “trust me, you’ll have a lot more fun this summer if you lean in.” I break the shell open with my fork revealing succulent ricotta curds and bright green spinach. The filing swims in a sauce of brown butter and fragrant tarragon but doesn’t affect me as it should. Nothing does anymore. The group’s conversation interrupts my train of thought.

“They’ve come every summer since the nineties, same as us,” says Nina, smirking at the girl to her left. “Hottest little accents you’ve ever heard, I’ll tell you that much.”

“Who is she talking about?” I whisper to Christina.

“The boys in the other house,” she says, “the one you see on your way up here.” Nina’s family’s home is at a higher altitude than the rest of the city, necessitating a laborious hike to the bottom to actually do anything while in town. I’m sure that they’d been sold on the privacy of the location, but its impracticality left me wanting. The only other villa nearby sat at the base of the lush green hills before the road disappeared into winding dirt.

Another girl chimes in, “I saw them last year at a dinner in the city. They’re cute, too,” she coos.

“I kissed George the summer I turned fifteen,” brags Nina and the whole table breaks into oohs and aahs. I usually have a shut-up-unless-spoken-to policy at group dinners, but I know Christitna is right. If I don’t lean in then the credit card debt I’d amassed to buy my plane ticket and the back problems I'm sure to contract from sleeping on a pull-out couch for a whole summer will have been for naught. Think of it as an acting exercise, I tell myself, a performance of the girl who is totally not hung up on her ex and excited for a fun summer with her friends.

“I’m sorry,” I interrupt, “who are these guys?”

“They’re in a band,” says Nina.

“Like a real one?” I ask. Years of living in New York have taught me that all bands are not, in fact, real ones. Nina laughs.

“You’re funny,” she muses, “yes, a real one. They’re like famous. We’ll go over eventually, they throw the best parties you can find around here. Get real drugs, too. Not just liters upon liters of Aperol, not that I mind that either.”

With my question sufficiently answered, I return quietly to my pasta, cutting each shell into impossibly smaller pieces until it’s rabbit food that will glide down my throat and do the hard job of nourishing me without any work on my part.

–

After dinner, I tuck into the pull-out couch in the villa’s spacious living room. The lack of A/C and the balmy summer air make it impossible to enjoy the luxurious wool blankets Nina’s family no doubt splurged on. I allow myself to eavesdrop on the elated sounds coming from upstairs: women confiding in each other, commiserating about their troubles, and shrieking excitedly at each other's successes.

I first try to doze off at 10:15, hoping that an early night will be exactly what I need and I’ll wake up refreshed and on Italian time. After an hour of staring at the popcorn ceilings and trying to suppress my crippling fear of missing out, I’ve tired my mind out enough to begin slipping toward sleep. I have fewer and fewer thoughts until I’m jolted by a hip-hop bassline. It resonates through the trundle bed and rebounds off my ribs, cozying itself into my heart. As I begin to come to, I recognize the chords of a house track that used to play at the girl bar Claire and I frequented in Green Point. The melody is warm and familiar and undeniably annoying. How loud must the music be for it to affect me so acutely even as I’m a few kilometers away from them?

I decide I’m pissed – and yes I decided. I’m freshly single, broke, jet-lagged, and fucking pissed at those entitled rich assholes. I slide my sandals on and head out down the hill in my sleep clothes.

I step outside onto the winding dirt road that leads the way to the boys’ home. The night is dark, lit by stars much brighter than I’m used to seeing in Brooklyn. I tilt my head back to look at them, trying to identify the big dipper. After a few seconds, I’m dizzy. I shake myself and trudge ahead, almost lulled into submission by the constant chirping of cicadas and the sweet fragrance of orange blossom that wafts off the bushes.

With each step I take towards the boys’ villa (what were their names again? Nina said one was called George), the music, electronic and fast-paced, becomes louder.

When I first knock on the faded wood door, I’m quite sure no one has heard me. I stand outside for a few minutes, contemplating whether I should knock again or cut my losses and return up the hill. I decide I may as well disrupt their party as some kind of karmic retribution for keeping me awake even as I’m exhausted from a transatlantic flight. I raise my fist and rap harshly at the door. A moment later, it flies open, revealing a curly-haired boy. Well, not boy, I decide as I inspect his features – lines decorate his forehead, and gray peeks out at me from within a ringlet that hangs over his eyes. He gives me a once over and can immediately tell I’m not here for the party.

“Can I help you?” he asks, annoyed. His accent lilts and falls over the words. All of a sudden, I feel insecure in my braless and plaid pajama-clad state. He’s beautiful – and exasperated by me. I double down on my own annoyance.

“Would you mind turning the music down?” I ask, still cordial, “I’m staying at the house up the way and I can’t get to sleep.”

The guy in front of me purses his lips and considers me for a moment. I feel itchy and uncomfortable. He’s looking at me like he can see through my clothes, to my soft hips and painted toes and peaked nipples.

“Let me show you around, gorgeous,” he smiles, “then maybe you won’t mind so much.” He grabs my wrist and yanks me into the party. A warmth covers me as I cross the threshold into the villa. The inside of the home smells like college: cheap weed, sweet sticky mixers, and sweat. My sandals stick slightly to the floor, reminding me that I really shouldn’t be here right now. Like the alcohol that’s been spilled on the ground is some great cosmic interference to convince me to go home and get the rest I ought to.

Suddenly, a big hand falls on the shoulder of the boy who’s pulling me by my limbs.

“Matty!” says the man. I can make out enough to see that he’s tall and devastatingly handsome.

“George!” the boy – Matty, I remind myself – drops my hand and fully embraces the bigger guy. “Was just showing…” he nods at me to introduce myself.

“Y/n.”

“Around,” Matty finishes. George gives me a once over.

“Did she just roll out of bed? Or get released from prison?”

“Y/n came to ask us to keep the noise down,” Matty declares with fake sincerity, “Not a partier, are ya love?”

“Under the right circumstances, I can be,” I retort. Matty and George’s eyebrows raise in amusement, faces breaking out in smiles. That sounded much more cunning in my head. Now I feel like a toy they’re playing with, winding me up to see what noises I make. It feels infantilizing. I’m uncomfortable, crawling in my skin; pride battered and desperate to go home as soon as it doesn’t look like I’m running away from a fight of my own picking. “I’d better be going actually,” I assert.

Matty puckers his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. “I’ll show you out, princess.” It’s a sweet nickname but it tastes bitter out of his mouth. He seems to twist everything good and make it unbearable. I resent him for it. I trudge in front of Matty towards the door with steadfast focus. As I cross the threshold, I turn to meet his gaze.

“Thanks for nothing,” I say calmly. Matty breaks into a devilishly smug grin. His eyebrows tilt a little and his lips reveal a few crooked teeth at the bottom of his mouth.

“My pleasure, darlin’,” he says. I scoff and turn on my heels, leaving Matty in the dust.

–

The scent of freshly chopped garlic fills the kitchen as I stand in an assembly line of young women with cutting boards and chefs knives, each diligently chopping an ingredient for the bruschetta.

In front of me is a bunch of basil, perfectly fresh and green. I gently remove the leaves from the stem and create a pile in the middle of my board. It reminds me of when I would be tasked with raking the leaves as a kid. Too distracted by my childish whims, I would create more work for myself by piling the leaves on top of each other and taking a grandiose dive into them before scooping them up into a trash bag and discarding them. Each leaf was like a piece of confetti, a celebration of the season and of youth. Now I do these things to prove to myself that I’m young and that I can still conjure up that imaginative, playful nature if I try hard enough.

As I rock my knife back and forth over the soft leaves, Christina asks me where I was the night before.

“I came out around eleven to invite you upstairs, but I couldn’t find you,” she says.

Embarrassed, I train my eyes to the task at hand. This is not the group to look like a tattle-tale in front of. Actually, there’s very few groups in which that would fly. My penchant for playing God and divvying out karmic consequences to everyone whose path I cross is a part of my nature I’m not particularly fond of. I’m not keen to share it, especially around people who are still making up their minds about me. Despite my steadfast beliefs and borderline-outlandish behaviors, I maintain a fervent desire to be liked. It’s pathetic.

“I stepped out for some air,” I murmur.

“Really?” she nudges, “Because I didn’t see you on the porch.”

I turn my basil bunch 90 degrees in a flourish, beginning to chop it lengthwise.

“Fine, I couldn’t sleep because of the music,” I spit.

“And…” Christina has always been too good at getting me to reveal my true feelings. She goads me torturously until it’s easier to say what I’m thinking than to conceal it.

“And I went to ask them to turn the music down,” I finish, “There, are you happy?”

“Very,” she smiles.

I pick up the chopped basil, letting the pieces float through my fingers and deciding I need to chop them smaller, still. I whack at the pile haphazardly, ruining the lovely squares I meticulously crafted earlier.

“They didn’t turn it down, if you were wondering,” I pant, “Pricks.” Christina chuckles to herself.

“No one ever does.”

–

The music of the club is omnipresent as I enter hand in hand with Christina. On my feet are heels too high to be comfortable, but the perfect lift to accentuate my calves. As soon as I cross the threshold, I drag Christina to the bartender, ordering two negronis. We idle by the bar for a moment and I take in my surroundings, savoring the bitter aftertaste of my drink and the waltz of the lights that flicker and cover the dancefloor with reverie. I listen to the synths and flourishes of the melody that envelop my senses. I hadn’t expected to like the music, but the DJ is spinning disco and it just feels right: the cold Italian aperitif, the funky basslines, and the tranquil nighttime air. I almost wish I’d left my phone at home. Nights like these aren’t compatible with phones anyway. The atmosphere feels like a relic of a bygone era, full of free love and intoxication.

Nina and a friend of hers find Christina and me at the bar and run up to us with inebriated bravado. “You guys made it!” she squeals. Little does she know we were pre-gaming at the villa in anticipation of this exact moment. I couldn’t handle Nina while sober tonight, that much I was absolutely sure of. It also didn’t help that I was alone – for the first time in several years – in a romantic foreign country without the girl whom I still loved. As unhealthy as it was, alcohol made that reality hurt a bit less. Nina grabs my hands and leads Christina and me away from the bar.

“I need to introduce you to the DJs!” Nina exclaims. I glance at Christina to communicate that no, I’m not particularly enthused at the prospect of meeting some Eurotrash guy whose head is shaved and whose torso is covered in Gucci logos. She returns the glance, silently begging me to behave. I relent.

Nina leads us around the side of the floor to some kind of dark stairwell. Rationally, I should be scared of being kidnapped but my drunken stupor inspires more carelessness than I would usually indulge in. I watch the sway of Christina’s hips and follow her like a lost puppy. Finally, we reach the top and the DJ deck is revealed. It’s shadowy and hazy. To the left is a corner booth with a straight couple making out in a way that really ought to be illegal in public. Past the lookout, laser lights flicker and sweep across the dancefloor, catching on the artificial fog and filling the air with psychedelic color. My eyes fall on the backs of two figures at the DJ booth, smoke rising above their heads. I can make out that one has headphones on and is faffing with the turntable while the other has their hands in the air and the small, flickering glow of a lit cigarette dancing around their figure. I’m dragged towards them by Nina who throws an arm around each of their necks in greeting. As soon as the one with the cig turns around, I catch his eyes.

It’s Matty. Selfish, arrogant Matty. I nod my head and flatten my mouth in a kind of recognition. The room is spinning from the alcohol and my skin is buzzing with discomfort. The bass of the music resonates in my ribs, teaching my heart how to beat. My mouth tastes salty and my knees feel weak.

I’m running to the corner where I can see a bin. Tears prick at my eyes and my hair sticks to my sweaty forehead as I swiftly empty the contents of my stomach into the small trash can. I kneel on the rough carpet and brace myself on either side of the bin with my hands. Between heaves, I lift my head to shake my hair off the back of my neck. The cool air feels grounding, but I’m soon back with my head in the can. I feel a hand on the back of my head, wrangling my frizzy hair off of my shoulders. I gasp, looking back for the sisterly comfort of Christina’s bottomless, cerulean eyes. Instead, I find a pair of brown, honey-flecked irises: Matty’s. I’m reeling too severely to be upset or confused; I’m just grateful when he uses his free hand to sweep my damp bangs out of my face and nods at me.

“Go on,” he encourages, “better out than in.”

I bury my head in the bucket again.

“Atta girl,” Matty coos in my ear. I can almost notice his hand rubbing circles on my back. Even when I’m quite sure I’m finished, I keep my head down for a moment savoring the last few seconds that I don’t have to look Matty in the eyes. Curse him for helping me. I wouldn’t know how to interact with him under normal circumstances, much less when he’s been nice to me – and watched me unceremoniously blow chunks into a bin.

“You feel better?” he asks. I lift my head tentatively, still scared another wave of nausea will hit me.

“I think so, yeah,” I mumble. Matty searches my eyes for any warning sign that I’m still sick.

“Have you got a hair tie?” I instinctually fish in my jeans pocket for one, handing it to him. Slowly, he corrals my locks into a ponytail and secures it, fingers grazing the tops of my ears and making me shiver. I sit back against the wall with my legs splayed out in front of me, knees visibly carpet burnt from my previous position. Matty flops down beside me. He reaches out to touch the red, irritated skin.

“You don’t need a doctor or something, do you?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” I hiss when he applies a little pressure to my knee and shake his hands off me, “Why are you being nice to me?”

“When have I not been nice?”

“You wouldn’t turn the music down the other night,” I state. He smiles at me, eyes scrunching up until his pupils are totally obscured.

“No one ever turns the music down,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Plus,” he adds, “I thought you were a buzzkill. Now I can see that’s not the case, sweetheart.”

“I can usually handle my drink better than this,” I protest, “And I’m also usually not a buzzkill.”

“I guess I don’t know anything about you, then,” he acquiesces, thinking for a moment, “Do you want to start over?”

“Sure, I’d like that,” I nod, smiling tipsily.

“So what’s caused you to be sick tonight?” Matty asks, leaning his head back against the wall. His hair is curled up in perfect ringlets and his skin glows golden even in the dim club light. He looks at me carefully, like his stare could hurt me. It could, I suppose.

“Alcohol?” I say it like that should be obvious. His face wrinkles up again in a laugh I can vaguely identify as something that’s my fault. He looks pretty. I realize I want to make him do it again and again forever. I want to see the crinkles that grow at the sides of his eyes and the curl of his upper lip that reveals his boyishly crooked teeth.

“I figured as much. Anything in particular that drove you to drink?” I frown for a second, trying to remember.

“My ex,” I say quietly.

“What’d he do?”

“Nothing,” I shake my head, “that’s the problem. She didn’t do anything.”

“When was that?”

“Two months ago?” My god, it’s already been two months.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “that’s still fresh.” I shrug.

“It’s alright I guess. You just feel a little betrayed when someone stops trying. I thought that was the whole point of…” I trail off, gesticulating aimlessly with my hands, “love or whatever. To keep trying.”

“I get it,” he utters.

“People stop trying with rockstars, too?” I tease. He smiles.

“How did you know that I’m a musician?”

“Well, first of all, I said rockstar–”

“Which I chose to ignore because it was sarcastic.” I roll my eyes.

“And second of all, the girls I’m staying with told me,” I finish. He nods in understanding.

“Well yeah,” he sighs pensively, “people stop trying with everybody. Even rockstars. If I’ve learnt anything in my life, it’s that giving up usually has more to do with them than it does with you.”

“You’re probably right, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less,” I argue.

“Nothing does. You just have to let it hurt for a while.”

We’re both quiet for a second. I catch a couple of bars of an Earth, Wind, and Fire song and hum along, content with the silence. I let my head fall onto Matty’s shoulder and he immediately turns his head to look at me.

“Oh fuck, sorry. Is this okay?” I ask, hand flying to my mouth “I know I just puked.”

“It’s okay,” he says, “I just didn’t think you would want to.”

“I want to,” I kiss his shoulder through the cotton of his white button-up shirt. He watches me the whole time as though he can’t quite compute what’s happening. Then he snaps back to his regular confident state.

“Let me know if you ever want to deal with your girlf– ex without drinking your feelings away…” he trails off, mouth meeting the crown of my head, “I’d love to show you around here sometime.”

“Okay,” I mumble, the alcohol, tiredness, and emotions beginning to get the better of me and coax me toward sleep.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Matty grabs my hand from my lap and wraps it in his two larger ones, caressing my thumb and humming into my ear.

–

a/n: the next bit is written, but I am still writing the end. smut soon! x

#matty healy fanfic #matty healy x reader #matty healy x y/n #matty healy fluff #matty healy fanfiction #matty Healy

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imobsessedwiththeatre · 2 months

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Lets analyze dont lose your head song!! (Historical accuracy)

Grew up in the French Court- kinda?? She was at austrian court too i think. She was lady in waiting. NO SHE WASNT FRENCH just she spended most of her teenagw years here

Oui, oui, bonjour

Life was a chore so (she set sail)- exactly!! Her life in france was a chore!!

1522 came straight to the UK

All the British dudes, lame-the song made it seem she just moved to england, but she did not guys she was borned here :"). And she almost married a guy named William Carey, so its not rlly accurate

Epic fail

Ooh, I wanna dance and sing- yes! There was a show called "Chateu verte" or something i dont remember. And it was exactly in 1522 so its alr+

Politics, not my thing- i cant say if its accurate or not. I think she was quite interested in politics

Ooh, but then I met the King

And soon my daddy said, "You should try and get ahead"- YES

He wanted me, huh, obviously

Messaging me like everyday- it was like a stalk. He even sent her doctors when she got sick, without asking for it!!

Couldn't be better, then he sent me a letter and who am I kidding

I was prêt-à-manger-????

Ooh, sent a reply

Ooh, just saying hi

Ooh, you're a nice guy

I'll think about it maybe, xo baby- UHH?? HENRY STARTED ALL OF THIS FLIRTING?? SHE TRIED TO AVOID HIM??

Here we go

(You sent him kisses)

I didn't know I would move in with his misses- she in fact knew about his wife ane child.

(What?)

Get a life

You're living with his wife?- in 1530 henry wanted anne to movw into the palace, while trying to get catherine out

Like, what was I meant to do?

Sorry, not sorry 'bout what I said

I'm just tryna have some fun

Don't worry, don't worry, don't lose your head

I didn't mean to hurt anyone

LOL, say oh well

Or go to hell

I'm sorry, not sorry 'bout what I said

Don't lose your head

Three in the bed and the little one said- NO

If you wanna be wed, make up your mind

Her or me, chum

Don't wanna be some

Girl in a threesome- there wasnt any threesome?..

Are you blind?

Ooh, don't be bitter

Ooh, 'cause I'm fitter

Ooh, why hasn't it hit her?

He doesn't want to bang you

Somebody hang you- idrk if she would say it. I dont really know anything bout their relationship

Here we go

Your comic went viral

I didn't really mean it but rumours spiral- Yeah, they accused her of witch craft

Wow Anne, way to make the country hate you- FR. they loved catherine sooo...

Mate, what was I meant to do?

Sorry, not sorry 'bout what I said

I'm just tryna have some fun

Don't worry, don't worry, don't lose your head

I didn't mean to hurt anyone

LOL, say oh well

Or go to hell

I'm sorry, not sorry 'bout what I said

Don't lose your head

Tried to elope

But the pope said nope

Our only hope was Henry

He got a promotion

Caused a commotion

Set in motion the C of E

The rules were so outdated

Us two wanted to get x-rated- they already got 'x-rated'..

Soon, ex-communicated-yeah they made small secrwt wedding

Everybody chill, its totes God's will

Henry's out every night on the town-MHM

Just sleeping around, like what the hell?-YEA

If that's how it's gonna be

Maybe I'll flirt with a guy or three- NO. But they accused her of affair with her brother george, some violinist and other guy

Just to make him jell

Henry finds out and he goes mental- YEAH

He screams and shouts- wait he was rather calm i think?..yk he was abt to marry jane

Like so judgemental

You damned witch-Yeah...

Mate, just shut up

I wouldn't be such a b-

If you could get it up- UMMM...

Here we go

(Is that what you said?)- she didnt really argued tho..

And now he's going 'round like off with her head- it was like guards got her and her so called lovers on a talk

(No)

Yeah, I'm pretty sure he means it

(Seems it)

What was I meant to do?

(What was she meant to do?)

Like what was I meant to do?

(What was she meant to do?)

No, but what was I meant to do?

Sorry, not sorry 'bout what I said

I'm just tryna have some fun

Don't worry, don't worry, don't lose your head

I didn't mean to hurt anyone

LOL, say oh well

Or go to hell (she's going to hell)

Sorry, not sorry 'bout what I said

Sorry, not sorry 'bout what she said

Sorry, not sorry 'bout what I said

Don't lose your head

AND FOR THE REST?? ID SAY SHE WAS RATHER CONFIDENT THROUGH THE EXECUTION

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decks-writing-blog · 17 days

Text

Here to Stay Drabbles: Not a Big Birthday Guy

Summary: I wonder, how would Gordon or Benrey try to handle celebrating each other’s birthdays?

‘Mr. Freeman’s b-day is on the 21st of this month. What do you think we should for it?’ read Tommy’s text.

Benrey looked up from the phone to glance over at Gordon, leading the way down the grocery store aisle with the cart. He hadn’t mentioned his birthday was coming up. It was still more than a week away but still close enough that he should’ve said something about it, right?

He turned his attention back onto the phone. ‘y u aking me?’ He’d never organized any kind of birthday celebration.

‘I was going to suggest we to go to Chuck-E-Cheese again. Do a surprise party like my Dad did for me. But then I thought maybe he wouldn’t like that. So I’m asking you. He’s your boyfriend so you’re closest to him and should know I think.’

Ooh. A party at Chuck-E-Cheese would be fun. Benrey had missed Tommy’s birthday party there because he’d been too busy coming back to life and scrambling to find a way out of Xen before he got stuck forever. But alas, Tommy was right; Gordon might not like that. The only time he’d brought up that party himself had been to complain about it how weird and uncomfortable it had been to go from his life being in danger to that ‘nonsense’. He’d immediately followed up with telling Benrey to not tell anyone he’d said that about Tommy’s birthday party, especially Tommy himself. Tommy apparently had some idea he hadn’t had fun though. Not that that was hard to guess.

But did Tommy have a point about Benrey being the person to ask about what to do instead? While it was true they lived together and were dating, Benrey had never been invited to a birthday party before – he’d crashed a few in the lab offices but none of them had been particularly fun and thus he hadn’t stuck around for long – let alone helped plan one. … He was in a good position to just ask Gordon himself though. So maybe that’s what Tommy had meant; he wanted him to ask Gordon.

Pocketing the phone, he jogged to catch up and then surpassed Gordon and his cart. Before he could protest, Benrey stepped up onto the front of it so that he was riding it while facing Gordon. Facing outward was more fun but it was conversation time.

Gordon let out a sigh as he stopped pushing. “Really, dude?”

“Yeah, really.”

“Okay, fine but I’m not going any faster. The staff here don’t get paid enough to deal with our bullshit if we crash into something.”

“That’s okay.” Their one good cart run had indeed almost ended in a crash. “We gotta talk anyway. Um, your b-day’s coming up soon. Where you wanna have the party for it? And don’t say at the lab, ‘cause I wanna go to it too.”

Gordon resumed pushing the cart with his gun hand now too. “I guess my birthday is coming up soon, huh? I’d actually kinda forgotten it. How’d you hear about it?”

“Tommy texted me. How’d you forget it?”

Gordon shrugged as he stopped them in the cereal isle. “I’m just not a big birthday guy. It kinda stops being a big deal after you turn twenty-one.”

Benrey watched for a few seconds Gordon browsed and selected his preferred cereals. He’d tried a few himself at Gordon’s instance he try different foods, none had appealed to him all that much. “Well, what you wanna do for it?”

“Uh… I don’t know. The last couple years, I haven’t done anything. Before that, I got high and watched cartoons or the year I couldn’t get any pot, got drunk instead. I’m uh… not sure doing either is a good idea with the whole…” He gestured vaguely with his gun hand, currently securely wrapped in the scarf he’d bought for it. “Being inebriated when this thing is part of me sounds like a bad idea. Not to mention all my other problems that drugs and alcohol probably wouldn’t help.” He returned to pushing the cart. “So don’t worry about, ‘kay?”

“But we gotta do something. We could go to Chuck-E…”

Gordon didn’t even let him finish before interrupting. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Damn.” Benrey had expected that though.

“If that’s where you wanna go for your birthday, that’s fine. I’ll go and even try to have fun or whatever. But just… not for my birthday, okay?”

“I don’t got a b-day though.” He hadn’t been born. They’d established that for sure when going through his files.

“Decanting day then, whatever you wanna call it. It’s on April 1st if I recall correctly. Which I’m pretty sure I do since that’s fitting. We already missed it this year but I guess instead of dealing with celebrating mine, we could have a late party for you or something if you want.”

“Ooh, could we?”

“Yeah, dude. Since you’ve never had anyone celebrate your birthday before, we could totally do something. A party with gifts and stuff or we could go somewhere special, whatever you want, dude. And I doubt any of the others will care that it’s a few months late.”

Benrey’s grip on the basket in front of him tightened. It wasn’t the first time Gordon had done something nice for him, far from it in fact, but it still felt like the emotional equivalent of a surprise warm hug. His ‘decanting day’ was months back but Gordon was willing to throw him a party for it anyway because he’d never had one before. … A late party wouldn’t be proper though, would it? Surely not. But… but… he wanted it so bad. Now that he knew it was an option, how could he possibly not want it? Waiting all the way to his next decanting day would take forever.

It had been Gordon’s birthday they’d been talking about though. Benrey couldn’t take that away and make it all about himself. “Maybe uh… we could do a double party this year? Late party for me and on time party for you. Doesn’t have to big or whatever. We maybe don’t even gotta go anywhere. Could have a home party instead.” Benrey wasn’t sure where he’d want to go anyway. The main draw was the gifts, cake, and everyone being together anyway.

Getting all of the Science Team together physically in one place wasn’t exactly rare but with everyone having jobs and their own things going on, it wasn’t exactly the most common thing in the world either. Especially since Bubby had just gotten back from losing his job at NASA a couple weeks ago. So a big double party at home would be great.

Gordon thought about it in silence for a few seconds, his expression soft; he was open to the idea. “I guess that wouldn’t be so bad. So… sure, let’s have a double birthday party at home or whatever. Maybe it’ll even be fun.”

“Sweet.”

#hlvrai #here to stay drabbles #frenrey #hlvrai gordon #benrey

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nyxofdemons · 2 years

Text

the emotional whiplash of this episode is fucking insane

#helluva boss #helluva boss exes and oohs #helluva boss spoilers #moxxie #crim #e: exes and oohs #mine

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bapydemonprincess · 3 months

Text

Fireworks

Lau knew his Master Chef very well. He knew his Former American Soldier very well. He knew his Bardroy.

The man wore most of his true emotions on his sleeve and when something delighted or displeased him he made sure everyone knew.

(Sometimes when they really didn't need to..)

And Lau was very confident in his very good idea that the Phantomhive Chef, Ex Soldier, and American would love seeing a real firework show.

With the kind of beautiful creations directly from Lau's home.

And maybe, seeing as it was a warm Summer evening, they go stay outside under the stars and fireworks and eat some of Lau's favorite home recipes!

So, the Opium den closed early and Lau and his dear sister headed off.

Confidence and good tidings radiating from their entire entorage as they headed out of London and to the Phantomhive Manor out in the countryside.

"Ah, fireworks," the butler repeated the Rising Dragon's explanation as he greeted him at the front door.

"And quite a few of them, you see, Mister Butler! To last as long as a lovely evening outdoor dinner party!"

"Hmm? And I imagine you've brought your own dishes for this dinner party as well?"

"Here they are, all made today before coming by me!"

Lau felt like congratulating himself on putting out such a perfectly docile demeanor this evening in front of the scary, cold stuff upper lip Mister Butler.

After another few agonizing seconds of said Head Servant standing there, practically barricading the entrance as he contemplated this new predicament, finally a softer, higher voice broke the stand-off.

"'Oos that Sebastian? O-Oh! Mister Lau and Ran Mao!!"

Met Rin squeezed her tiny self between the doorway and the suddenly for some reason floundering Mister Butler, smiling as bright to the guests as a full new moon.

"What brings you lot here? Young master 'asnt had need of yer services for a spell, from what I recall, no he hasn't!"

"Well let's just say this attempted visit was for pleasure, Miss Maid! And, if I may, it is so nice to see you again. I'm sure Ran Mao and you have a lot of catching up to do!"

"Ooh, yes that sounds lovely, it does!! Oh, we could even have dinner together, we could, since it's 'round the time us servants eat an' all, right Sebastian??"

Another second passed, Mister Butler now looking less and less intimidating under the big, brown pretty awaiting gaze of Miss Maid.

He finally sighed.

"....Yes, I suppose so, considering Mister Lau appears to have brought special home made dishes to share, as well as some.. fireworks to show."

"..Fireworks??"

"All directly brought over from China!" Lau confirmed.

The maid's eyes seemed to grow bigger by the second, as well as her smile seeming to take up the entirety of her lower face.

"Well, let's see if we can carefully get the fireworks out into the back yarded area, I suppose," Mister Butler sighed once again, as if this would actually be a hard task for him.

And halfway getting around the manor with the wagon of fireworks, soon the Gardener Boy joined the group, and then the Snake Boy too.

Soon all the bunch were chattering with delight of the idea of an evening of dining outside and seeing fireworks!

All.. except...

"Beg pardon, Mister Butler, Miss Maid and er you other two.." Lau spoke up as they were all finally out behind the large estate and Mister Butler was taking the fireworks out of the wagon, "where is Master Chef? You would think he'd be just as all over this idea as the rest of you, right??"

Mister Butler paused while setting another firework down.

Miss Maid froze up as she was busy deciding which yummy looking Chinese dish to try first from the basket Ran Mao showed her.

The Gardener and Snake Boys seemed suddenly ready to run back inside where they'd come from.

"I do believe Bardroy will likely not be joining us for this little event, Mister Lau,"

"....O-Oh?" The Rising Dragon certainly felt like he was going to rapidly fall.. if this went in the direction he was already suspecting it would.

"Erm, 'e... 'e probably wouldn't like the fireworks, Mister Lau.. Uh, I mean, well.. the sounds of 'em, I mean... No he wouldn't."

Lau tried to laugh in the face of this information, if a bit forcefully.

"That's quite a silly assumption, given that the man's dealt with explosions far greater than this many times, has he not??"

"Perhaps so, but I believe the rapid, loud bursts and booms of a firework display would still unnerve him after so many long years of similar situations... if deadlier."

"And um, the recent times 'es been able to deal with it, I think it was more controlled, and he set the explosions off 'imself, he did, and um, it wasn't somethin' happenin' overhead like a firework would be, no it wasn't!"

The two head servants and their explanations.. annoyingly made sense, and Lau found his frustration rising over reason in this situation.

"Well, there's only one way to see for ourselves if this is all true, yes? I'm sure it'll be no trouble to see if he'll try coming out and enjoying the show. So, let's go ahead and start! And I'll slip on in and find Master Chef!"

Mister Butler and Miss Maid were sharing looks with each other as Lau marched off right away to head inside and hunt down his actual intended audience.

Just inside Master Chef sat, at a kitchen chair, feet up on the table and crossed half-hazardly, while his bare arms were crossed over his chest and he puffed away at a smoke.

Likely wondering where dinner was.

Where everyone was.

"Good evening, Master Chef," Lau chirped.

And felt his spirit soar once again when the man nearly collapsed out of his seat.

"Uh- Wha- What the 'ell are you doin' 'ere Lau??"

Lau chuckled.

"Looking for you to be specific. You're missing out on a big show that's about to start right outside, you know!"

"A big show?" The chef repeated, utterly confused, "What kinda show are ya talkin' bou-"

BOOM

BAM

CRASH

BANG!

The first fireworks went off perfectly, and even if just at the corner of his vision, Lau could tell they were a bright, beautiful sight to behold out there as they lit up the Phantomhive Grounds sky.

But, as Lau proudly absorbed the expected "OOOOs!" and "AAAAHs" of the others getting front row seats out there, what he didn't expect to also hear underneath was a clacking, clacking, clackety noise and rapid panting breaths.

And Master Chef was no long even remotely near his aforementioned seat, but now even further away, near the other exit into the rest of the manor, pressing himself up against the wall, practically.

The clacking being his handgun he'd snapped out and held up close to himself.

BOOM

BAM

CRASH

BANG!

Went another set, and this time Lau didn't bother listening or seeing any of it, as he busied himself watching Master Chef flinch at every one, and sink slowly down while still against that wall.

His face the face of a man absolutely haunted.

"M-Master Chef I-" Lau started, lifting his arms and hands.

BOOM

BAM

CRASH

BANG!

Bardroy shut his eyes at this point, still flinching.

Lau's arms and hands curled back, uncertainty riddling him over what to do....

BOOM

BAM

CRASH

BANG!

Until he decided to risk it.

BOOM

BAM

CRASH

BANG!

Diving towards the curled up man.

BOOM

BAM

CRASH

BANG!

And setting before him.

BOOM

BAM

CRASH

BANG!

Ignoring as this seemed to make him jolt too, and the gun in his head started to point out close to Lau's chest.

BOOM

BAM

CRASH

BANG!

Bard's mouth opened and a primal yell of fear escaped him, his eyes popping open again.

BOOM

But this time all he saw instead of bright flashes out the kitchen window was..

BAM

Was...

CRASH

...Lau.

BANG!

His hands covered up Bardroy's ears firmly.

And he pressed his own face very very close.

He spoke low even if he doubted the man could hear him.

"Duìbuqǐ" He whispered, more than once it seemed.

Over and over, and even when the other man was shaking no longer.

And it seemed the.. fireworks had finished.

"...H-Huh??"

The chef hissed out, blinking.

He finally seemed to notice Lau pressing his face close and covering his ears.

"Uh... I couldn't 'ere ya when you do that.."

Lau smiled.

Laughed.

Let out a deep breath of relief.

And kissed his Master Chef on the lips.

This seemed to melt the man before him even more, his hands with the gun lowering entirely.

And yet Lau had never been concerned where that had been pointed.

He pulled back, only to push back in for one, two, three more smaller kisses.

"I was trying to explain the arrangement of an evening out with Home Made Chinese Dining and entertainment on display..."

Lau leaned back further and smiled sheepishly.

"However, I think we just missed the entertainment."

"O-oh..."

Was all Bardroy could get out, blinking again.

But looking up into Lau's face hopefully with his big clear blue eyes.

"But is the dinin' is still available? I uh, don't mind that stuff one bit, y'know.."

Lau grinned this time.

"I know you don't, and I'm glad for that at least. Let's see then, if there's anything still left, eh?"

And this finally got Master Chef to follow him, with no issue, outside and join the others.

After Note: From what I've looked up to the best of my ability 对不起 (duì bù qǐ) is meant to be a very deep apology for messing up! And I imagine someone like Lau rarely ever says it! Unless they REALLY mean it 😉

#kuroshitsuji #sebastian michaelis #mey rin #bardroy #bard #finnian #finny #snake #lau #ran mao #bardlau #sebamey #my writing

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ceilingfan5 · 1 year

Note

Setting Z would be really funny for Barry Bluejeans

“Hurry up and figure things out, before I get fired from a second morgue. Please?” Barry Bluejeans is near tears, or violence. Or maybe just sitting on the floor. The buttons are all very close to each other on his mental keyboard.

“The please is a nice touch,” Kravitz acknowledges pleasantly. “I don’t think it’ll work, but I appreciated it.”

“Hush your vibes,” Taako says, putting his hands to his temples and cocking an eyebrow intensely. “I’m getting a message from the afterlife.”

“Taako, you don’t have to do the act for us,” Barry complains. “We know you aren’t psychic.”

“Says who! I’m offended. Let me at ‘em. I’ll prove it with my hands tied behind my back!”

“Use your hands to solve the murder, maybe,” Kravitz suggests wryly. He leans against the metal of the Fridge and jumps, probably because it’s cold as fuck. Barry makes that mistake like three times a day.

“Or don’t, don’t touch the body, I swan to John, Taako, I know I owe Lup a favor but-”

“More than just a favor, mon ami!”

“Not bad enough to get fired and arrested in the same day!” Barry starts pacing again, you know, so he doesn’t have to spin that violence/tears/floor roulette wheel. What a variety of options he has for himself! “Your stupid act may have the cops fooled, but I’m-”

“What, a genius?” Taako puts his hands on his hips. “Look at this man.”

“Ex-man,” Kravitz suggests.

“Oh yeah? Good for h- oh you mean dead.”

“Taako, Robbie is going to be back any minute. I can’t just have people in here! Especially,” he gives Taako a Very Serious Look Tee Em. “If they aren’t being helpful.”

“I’m so helpful. Notice, in fact,” he gestures like he’s about to do some woo-woo psychic bullshit, but thinks better of it. “That he has been frozen.”

“Like a corpsicle,” Kravitz suggests.

“Kravitz,” Barry says, strained. “You’ve gotta stop. I’m going to get an ulcer.”

“Fuck you man, Kravitz is patently amusing.” Taako points a finger with intent at Barry.

“Well, I’m about to be hilarious. Find out why our corpsicle is freezer burnt, or you’re fucking out of here.”

“Ooh, he said fucking,” Taako whispers behind his hand to Kravitz. Kravitz snickers. Barry grips the table and gets ready to lose it, it either being his patience or his livelihood, when Taako gasps.

“What,” Barry asks, so tersely it doesn’t deserve a question mark.

“Peas!”

“Peas?”

“Peas.” Kravitz nods like he knows about the peas. In fact it appears that the only guy out of the legume loop.

“E-lab-or-ate.”

“This guy worked for the frozen food factory,” Taako says, all in a rush, bouncing now that he’s figured it out. “Oh my god, call that bitch of a cop, I’ve figured it out.”

“Tell me now! You can do your goddamn Sherlock reveal later!”

“Oh my god,” Kravitz says. “He worked in the chicken nugget area, but he was found in the frozen peas.”

“So this could only mean one thing!”

Barry glowers at these two idiots, not least because he very much wants to be in on their Sherlock Bullcrap.

“What?” Taako snickers. “You didn’t figure it out?”

“You know, I do a lot for you two wingdings,” Barry starts. “After all this time, you’d think- Wait. Hang on.”

“He’s getting it,” Taako whispers to Kravitz.

“This is great,” Kravitz says behind his hand, entirely audible. “Way better than pharmaceuticals.”

“Hang on, fuck, hang on. This isn’t the chicken nugget guy. This man is a twin.”

“Bingo.”

“The banker twin?”

“The banker twin.”

“Oh my god.”

“Bingo bango, even.”

“He froze the peas guy’s assets–”

“And the peas guy froze him.”

“Jesus fursuit wearing Christ,” Barry says, deciding to finally sit on the floor. He can’t control the words that start streaming out of him. “You- you guys know that most deaths that come in here aren’t like, fun little mysteries? Like you’re aware it’s mostly heart attacks and shit? Like, this is entirely unrealistic, and honestly since you two have started doing this-”

“Shh, Barry,” Taako says, getting out his phone. “We’ve got a scene to pull. For fame and glory.”

“And about a hundred fifty bucks each,” Kravitz adds.

“Oh, it’s one hundred now,” Barry says, pulling it together enough to flash them a bitchy smile. “You want my help, you’re paying for it.”

“Aw, damn it,” Taako mumbles. “You were right, Krav.”

#taz #tazb #taz balance #the adventure zone balance #the adventure zone #fan5fics #oops i remembered these #thank you!

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trrickytickle · 1 year

Text

Anomaly WreAks AnArchy on ArAchnid AnArchist

A/N: getting back into the groove of doing requests bc of a req/fic trade with @phobiaoftickles !!!!! HAHAHS THIS DRAFT WAS ORIGINALLY LEE PAV BUT IT HAS BEEN MARINATED AND EVOLVED INTO AN AWESOME LEE HOBART AWESOMENESS STORY FOR DA AWESOME JAMIE OLIVER BOI also footer tickles near the end

SummAry: Non-canon Part 2 of "The Tea Word" (separate from @/tickle-beans' MFTBU)-

In a turn of events, it's revealed that Hobie, being the awesome role model/love triangle rival/ex-runway model/probably ex-con he is, is unexpectedly the most ticklish out of all the Spider-People. (bit of lee!Pav at the beginning, the rest is a shit ton of lee!Hobie)

"C'mooon, go get her! I can't bear this!"

"I-It's not like that!!"

Pavitr continued to egg Miles on about the super palpable romantic tension between him and Gwen, but if it was up to him to say, nothing of the sort was going on. Gwen and Hobie, to Miles' right, were chatting away about what seemed like jargon to Miles and Pavitr, who weren't the slightest bit familiar with music theory.

"So, see, i'sounds better when you capo 3." Clipping the capo on his clipping-covered guitar, Hobie strummed a melodic tune, Gwen looking on in utter amusement.

"Awesome." She gasped, not even attempting to hide her excitement.

Pavitr punched Miles in the arm. "Come on, come on, change the subject! This is so annoying! Will they, won't they, will they won't they-"

Miles chuckled and shoved Pavitr away awkwardly. Hobie glanced over and cocked his eyebrow in a mild annoyance, and smirked. To the untrained, normal, not part of Spider Society eye, this was just a slight change in expression. It wasn't anything to cheer about. But to Pavitr and Gwen- that was the face of somebody about to deliver a deadly poison to those who wronged him, whether that be stealing his Chuck Taylors or punching him a little too hard. Hobie inched over to Miles, scoffing.

"Oi newbie! 'S he annoyin' you?"

Pavitr glared back at Hobie, laughing awkwardly. "I wasn't annoying him, I was just pressing-about a really, very important matter- and it goes without saying that everyone can notice Miles is giving Gwen the e-AAAAAAAAHHH! HOBIEE!! This again!?"

Hobie squeezed onto Pavitr's lower ribs, and looked back at Miles.

"That's one of ...many ways to shut'im up."

Miles laughed. "Bro's a screamer."

Pavitr groaned. "Tickling is not fair!"

"Oh yeah? Well weren't you just poking n' prodding at Mr. Armpit Blood?"

"He was sullying the name of all things rich, sweet and chaIIIII!!!! Nahaha-haha ha ha hahehe-HAH!" Upping the ante, Hobie strummed along his sides and continued with the tickling along his lower ribs, this time pressing onto his upper ones as well. "STOP!"

Gwen laughed nervously. "Yeah, he's right, youshupprobablystop, yaaaayy, you've had your fun!" Gwen laughed nervously, Ghost-Spider hood still over her head in embarassment.

Hobie glanced. "You're next, Gwendy."

"I'm going to go practice the drums. Have fun... Tickling." Cringing with that last word, Gwen bolted out of the rec room. Miles looked on in amusement at Hobie's strumming fingers and Pavitr's exaggerated screeches and death threats and "I'm-gonna-die-s".

Thankfully, the punk placed his hands back on his sides, leaving Pavitr some room to breathe and recover from the giggly stupor. Quickly patting the ghost-tickles away, he quickly perked up and looked over at Miles.

Miles shrugged. "Don't try anything-"

"Hey, hey, you know how Hobie acts all "Ooh, society! Stigma! Anarchy!" That last part was peppered with a thick fake Cockney twang which muddled with the Indian and Pavitr's hushed tone so much it was practically another foreign accent. "But he's reeeaaally ticklish. Like, as well."

Miles muttered. "Okay, okay, I see you..."

"Especially on his-" Just as Pavitr's fingers were about to make the slightest contact with Hobie, his bangled wrist was grabbed and stopped in place by the punk.

"No." Hobie asserted, the slightest twinge of nervousness in his deep voice. "O-or I'll-"

"Or what?" Pavitr sassed. "You gonna colonize us again, tea boy?"

Before an empty threat went past his lips, Miles webbed Hobie's arms together and went straight for the kill on his armpits.

"Or... soon you're gonna be the Spider-Man who's bleeding from the armpits." Miles taunted.

Hobie screeched with frequency that would rival mic feedback as he doubled over to the floor in a lack of balance, but Miles straddled his waist.

"I gotchu, don't worry!"

"kkHAAAA-hhHHHAAAAAH-ha!! Ff-hh-HAH!!" Hobie choked out. "'Umnnot th-ticklish!!" Miles kept vigorously scratching at the punk's pits, and Pavitr took his knees, fingers like insects crawling over the surface and wriggling behind.

"Oh but yes, yes you are!" Pavitr taunted with the sugar-sweet voice he had reserved for cooing at Mayday. "Miles, count his ribs!"

"Um, one, two, three.." the anomaly replied, counting on his pale fingers while his right hand was still tickling Hobie's armpit, albeit less aggressively. Hobie was holding out, but his face burned at the thought of the onlooking Spider-People's reactions. The teens had already gotten some stares from his previous attack on Pavitr, but the others had paid more attention to the sight of Hobie reduced to titters.

"Phehe-HPP-Pav, y-KK-You HHB-berk! Y'WUHULDN'T!"

"No, press DOWN! Like playing piano! Lemme try!" Pavitr moved up, sitting square on Hobie's tummy to demonstrate, two fingers tazing his middle ribs. Miles, following suit, prodded lightly at Hobie's ribcage, eliciting supressed chuckles that sounded a little more like coughs.

"Ffkk-KKKHHHA!! hh-Stop it, ya- hhHIdon'LIKETHAT! HAAAhhh-hHH!"

"Ah-ah, you gotta make little counts too. Ek, do, teen, chaar, paanch, chhah..." The numbers rolling off Pavitr's tounge were the tipping point for Hobie, who with every targeted little prod at his ribcage was breaking more and more and more and he was just about to LOSE IT-

"HH-FF-HA-HYEEE-HA-haha-HUH-HAH!! HAAA- huh-HH-GitOFF! Sling'y hook- Pahaha-HAV!" Hobie's deep voice broke in hoarse laughter, and he squeaked with every utterance of Cockney insult-gibberish interrupted by his own hysterical laughter, shaking in his webbed bonds.

"No, I don't think I will, no, sir! In fact, let's try your tummy!" Pavitr lifted up the duochrome shirt which his a well-toned umber stomach, and with skilled fingers, Miles' hands found themselves creeping along from Hobie's sides swirling into his belly button, then creeping right out to give a few more prods at the ribs. This sent Hobie down a spiral of laughter as inconsistent as he was, with lots of yelps, howls screams and a hilarious cacophony of noises contradicting one another.

"KkgHAHAHA-HhEEEEK-(k-snrk)-ffHHHPHA-HAHA-HhNn! Not hehere- n'-Nn'OTTHERE! (pant)"

"Goodness, your laugh is something else... something ADORABLE!" Pavitr continued teasing him. "Oh, Miles! He also hates it when I do this. Gud-gudi-gudigudi-gudigudi!" Whispering teases that Hobie didn't know the meaning of was a dirty trick- the punk didn't know what Pavitr was saying, but he knew, full well, what those words meant, and they sent goosebumps down his bony neck.

"Damn." Miles laughed. "You try his feet yet? I'm mad ticklish there." At the very notion, Pavitr lit up with a daring gasp.

"Yes." He blurted. "Yes I have, actually." His face changed to that of a playful smirk, as Hobie's gaze grew wide.

"No." Hobie stilled. "Please, Miles, don't lis'n to him- Ah, tom tit." Before he knew it, Hobie's boots flew off and web-patterned socks which were taken off just as quick were revealed. Pavitr held back Hobie's toes, and Miles spidered up and down his soles, laughing lightly along Hobie's hysterics.

"UH-HA-AH-HAHA-hh-HHKKHAA! Phh-PahAHavitr Puh-PrahahPRABAKAR, youhou're a DEAD blo-ho-hohoke, jh-H! Ahahanywhere budduh fuh-huh-HHEEEET!" Hobie howled and hollered, hitting the floor.

"Oh, and I forgot to ask, Miles. You like being tickled?"

Said spider person shook his head.

"Fair." Pavitr shrugged, the casual conversation continuing with every skilled stroke at the punk's peds. "Weell... Hobie liiikes it!" he sing-songed.

"SHhH-SHUT UHU-AHAH-haHhhyyYYou bunch'o WICKS!!" Hobie yelled, only a few decibels louder than his laughter, the noise making Miles back up while Pavitr kept playing at Hobie's toes.

"Does't seem like it. C'mon, let's give him a breather." Miles reassured. He climbed off Hobie, patting his shoulder, and yanked Pavitr's wrist to urge him off of Hobie, who stood up, knees knobbly from the wrath of both Spider-People whom he glared at.

"Heh.. you took it like a champ." Miles smiled up at him.

"You're next." Hobie spat, grabbing him by the collar of his hoodie. Miles made a small startled scream, and Pavitr laugh.

"I'm sure he doesn't mean it." By then, Pavitr had booked it out of the rec room.

Hobie cracked his knuckles. "Now, where to start..."

#tickling #tickle community #t-word #tfb community #tickle fic #tickle #tword #lee #ler

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slashingdisneypasta · 7 months

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Hey thank you for the links! They are working. Werewolf Sykes is sooo cool. And, I love dark fic so I thought the drabble was awesome. Pulling a gun on his s/o? Yeah. He would. His gentle, quiet, dangerous voice...👌👌

I had a dark thought, too. Warning for dub-con. If your family happened to owe Sykes a debt...imagine him demanding you as part of his payment. Promising them that the amount they owe will be reduced if they hand you over. He'll say you'll be working for him, helping with accounting and bookkeeping, that your services will take some of the weight off his shoulders...they can't see any other option but to accept.

He walks to you to his car, whispering silkily into your ear not to worry, all your needs will be taken care of. One of his big, warm hands on the small of your back as you climb into the back seat. Just a hint of a threat in his voice and his imposing size sending a shiver through you. You soon find out that the services he mentioned aren't exactly what you were expecting ;)

That's it. 😁 You must have some Toon Patrol asks then. 😁 I like the Weasels too, Wheezy being my fav. What else do you have asks for? It's ok if you don't want to share- I am just very curious. I have a feeling I'm going to like it here!

WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH oh my gosh.

This. This, this, this!!! There's nothing to add, its just- Ughhh, good stuff 👌 XD

Accounting 😏 and Book Keeping 🥰 I see.

And- yes!! I have lots of Toon Patrol asks! ^^ There is some other stuff sprinkled in as well though. Ooh you like Wheezy?? Sameeee XD He is so chill and in control 😏 While also being an unpredictable addict, which is very interesting XD

Here's the list!: (Apart from the OC stuff, the audience for which is basically @marinerainbow and I XD )

Doc and Sheriff from Cars x Reader x Chick Hicks. I AM SO FUCKING EXCITED TO WRITE THIS. I NEED TO SIT MY ASS DOWN AND ENJOY IT, I DUNNO WHY I KEEP PUSHING IT BACK!! @marinerainbow g i f t e d this ask to me, suggesting a reader who's so flirty with Doc and the Sheriff, because she likes them so much <3<3 , but who's getting nowhere with them because she's younger and they're gentlemen who would never 'take advantage' of her- when Chick comes into the picture and starts coming onto reader (He has no problem with the age gap 😅🤣). And she kinda has a moment, like... well, I'm not getting anywhere with the men I w a n t- so I might as well give this guy, who actually w a n t s m e, a chance! Right?? And then suddenly Doc and Sheriff are jealous XD

Another of her gift asks to me as a Professor fucking Callahan one where he treats Student!Menstruating!Reader better then all the other students XDD I c a n n o t believe I haven't written this yet. I guess I just feel guilty writing so much Cal (and Jim and Cruella and Otis- my f/os) 😅😅 The audience is real niche for them 😅😅😅

Horror Villains sorted by Love Language

A few Spotify Wrapped Prompts I still havent done 😅😰 (Maleficent, Psycho Weasel, Greasy Weasel, Inkubus, Clayton, and the Horned King).

Rufus Firefly thoughts! x2

@marinerainbow 's Slasher!Toon Patrol AU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! x2

Lady Tremaine and Madame Medusa thinking about reader while they're... self caring~ 😏 XD

Which Disney Villains would be up for a threesome with reader?? And with w h i c h other Disney Villains would they be happy to do it with? 😏😏😏

Ex!Freddy Krueger x Reader who's with someone else now but cant stop thinking about him. (God fucking damn him, right?? XD ) I actually have written this, but I made it r e a l self indulgent and the other guys is d e f i n e t l y Jim Bickerman (I mean- I didn't use his name- But I alluded to it XD Reader kinda goes 'J- ' and stops just in time XD ). So i have to rewrite it and make it a bit more ambiguous XD

Pervy Villains (Beetlejuice, Chucky, Freddy, Greasy, Hades (or Jafar. I'm thinking of swapping them), and Offenderman) reacting to noticing reader having a wet dream ~~~

#i hope you do like it here!! ^^ you seem lovely and we're happy to have you!! ^^ 💛💛💛

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