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barcaatthemoon · 1 month

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party girl || barcelona x reader ||

a night out at the club takes an interesting turn for you.

minors dni, 18+, smut warning.

a huge thank you to everybody who has followed me. 1500 is a lot for a blog i never really thought anyone would pay attention to.

the club was a mess of sweaty bodies grinding against each other just barely to the beat. it was like you were in a bubble with every single person on the dance floor. within your little bubble, life was great. you had a sense of euphoria as the strong hands that had been holding your hips for the past three songs moved up along your sides.

it was always risky to let strangers touch you like this, but you knew that you were in a somewhat safe space. the club had good security, and nearly every patron you had come across was a woman. you felt lips press against your neck and your head fell back against a slender shoulder. your eyes were closed as you turned around, perfectly catching this woman's lips.

you felt your knees grow a bit weak as this woman deepened the kiss. just before your knees did buckle, you felt very familiar hands on your waist. lucy tugged your head back a bit as your eyes opened to see ingrid standing in front of you. immediately, your heart began to race with panic as you started to look around for mapi.

"don't get scared now," lucy teased. you turned around to glare at her, but you stopped when you caught sight of mapi and ona behind her.

"come back with us," ona told you. she reached out and took your hands in hers. you were a bit too shocked to argue as ona led you out of the club. it wasn't until you were in the back of an uber heading towards what you assumed was ona's apartment that you realized what you had done.

"mapi's going to kill me," you groaned helplessly. lucy rolled her eyes as she placed her hand on the back of your neck. "i'm a dead woman, i kissed ingrid."

"ingrid kissed you, first of all. second, she's not going to kill you, trust me. we wouldn't be bringing you over if we thought she'd kill you," lucy promised. you let out a small whimper, and lucy pecked your lips before you could start pouting. "lucy!"

"it's fine," lucy huffed. you were torn between arguing with lucy and apologizing to ona. ona seemed to understand what was going through your mind, and before you could do either, she kissed you. you had never kissed ona before, and you didn't think that you'd ever kiss anyone like that again. you had expected her to be softer, but instead, ona kissed you roughly. your lips were definitely bruised, and you were surprised that she didn't draw blood when she nipped at your lips. "come on, we're here."

"what am i here for, exactly?" you asked as lucy pulled you out of the car.

"we're gonna fuck you, obviously," lucy said. your hands began to sweat a bit as they brought you into the building. everything was moving quickly, but you weren't sure that you would have even considered going home alone if you had the chance to. "you still like this sort of thing, don't you?"

"lucy," you hissed as you swatted at her to be quiet. the blush on your cheeks told lucy everything that she needed to know.

"come on, we wouldn't want to keep our guests waiting." this time, you were surprised by ona being the one to push you forward. you wondered what lucy had told her about you from your days as a lioness. you weren't overly proud of all the things you had done or let people do to you, but there had never been a dull night for you at camp before.

mapi and ingrid stood in the hallway waiting for the three of you. it felt wrong to watch as ingrid greeted ona with a kiss. you found yourself turning away, but also desperately trying to avoid mapi's gaze. you couldn't shake the feeling that she was somehow upset with you for kissing ingrid despite both of them being here waiting for you.

"hola chica." mapi greeted you the same way that she did at practice when you tried to keep to yourself. it was hard, but you had finally shaken the "party girl" persona that you had been dubbed with at the beginning of your career. "no kisses for me? i am sure that everybody else got one."

"she's always a little shy at first," lucy said as she unlocked the door. mapi stuck by your side as the group made their way inside. ingrid didn't seem to mind at all, far too preoccupied with ona. "if you don't want to do this, let me know, okay? i know that i sprung this on you, but it's always a little spontaneous isn't it?"

"i'm fine, i promise," you said quietly. lucy nodded and pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. she walked off, leaving you alone with mapi on the couch. this time, you couldn't ignore the older spanish defender. "d-did you know that ingrid was going to kiss me?"

"no, but i hoped that she would. one of us had to make a move to get this started, right?" mapi asked. it was stupid, but you felt embarrassed as you nodded. you had never made the first move with anybody before, always the one sought after by teammates and strangers alike. although, you'd never do something like this with a group of people that you didn't trust to take care of you. lucy had hooked up with you both by herself and with others, so she knew all of your rules by now. "can i tell you a secret?"

"sure." you glanced over at mapi, who leaned in close to whisper in your ear.

"ingrid made most of our first moves. other than the ring, that is. i did the big one, and that's what counts," mapi told you. you weren't surprised, having noticed how mapi and ingrid were with each other when nobody else was looking. "i can make this move with you, don't worry."

mapi gently cupped your face in her hands. her thumbs rubbed along your cheekbones as she leaned in. mapi moved much slower than you had expected, but you didn't mind it. the build up made the kiss even better, and you found yourself melting back into the couch as mapi covered her body with yours. her tongue swiped past your lips, giving you a taste of the mint from her drink that expertly masked the bit of alcohol.

"you're being greedy." ona wedged herself behind you. mapi broke the kiss to say something back to ona, who wasn't listening in the slightest. ona cared much more about pawing at your clothes as she kissed you. once again, you could feel your lips begin to bruise from the roughness of ona's mouth against yours. you felt your stomach tighten as you thought about how rough she'd be with you in bed.

"let's go somewhere with more room," lucy suggested. you were led out of the living room with mapi and ona both competing for your attention. lucy and ingrid didn't seem surprised in the slightest by any of this. you could see lucy's hands on ingrid's body as they slid beneath ingrid's top. that was the first article of clothing successfully removed.

you tried to lean towards where ingrid and lucy were, but it was no use. mapi finally managed to get the top of your dress undone, causing it to fall in a pool at your ankles. you didn't even have a chance to step out of it before you were being pulled onto mapi's lap on the bed. ona followed up closely, placing herself in between everything happening.

out of the corner of your eye, you could see lucy splitting her attention between ona and ingrid. you couldn't do much aside from watch as clothing disappeared at breakneck speed while mapi hooked her legs around yours to keep them open.

"lucia has told us a lot about you, but i want to know what you like," mapi said. she ran her fingers through your hair, smirking when your body went lax against hers. "talk to me, chica. what do you want me to do to you?"

"i want you to fuck me so good that your name is the only one i can think to scream," you told her. mapi took it for what it was, an open challenge. "i want you to split me wide fucking open."

"careful what you wish for (y/n)," lucy warned. you shot her a glare before turning your attention back to mapi. the spanish defender captured your lips in another kiss as her hand moved down your body to rest in between your legs. she wasn't doing much other than just letting her hand cup your pussy, but you were still moving your hips to seek out more contact. "she'll break you if you tell her to."

"mapi wouldn't hurt me unless i really wanted it, isn't that right?" your tone was dripping with false innocence and sweetness. mapi bit her lip as she let her hand lay flat against you. you continued to grind your hips, now getting yourself off by rubbing against her fingers. you let out a soft moan, one that prompted mapi to kiss you a little more.

those kisses were interrupted by ona, who pulled your face away from mapi's. you could see ingrid behind her, thrusting harshly, and lucy's body beneath the both of them being the only thing keeping ona from slamming into you. the kiss with her was messy and desperate, like ona had been craving her moment with you all night.

mapi slowly began to pull more of your attention away from everything else in the room. she had two fingers plunging deep inside of you, keeping a steady rhythm as she began to fuck you. next to you, ingrid and lucy were fucking ona harshly, and mapi noticed that your eyes continuously drifted over towards them.

"do you like it rough? i can fuck you like that. i'll bend you over so you can get a better look too," mapi offered. "would you like that? just say the word and it's all yours."

"mapi please, i want it so bad," you told her. you were surprised how quickly you were reduced to whining. lucy had always liked to joke that you were easy to break, that it was why you were so fun to pass around for a night. you could spend an hour getting fucked relentlessly and once you had the energy to would be asking for it all over again.

"bring her over here," ingrid said. mapi moved you over ona and lucy's bodies. ingrid helped to position you once you were close enough. her touch was less gentle now than it had been earlier in the night. she was being less careful with you, like she was no longer afraid of scaring you away. "do you want to taste ona?"

"yes, please." ingrid surprised you by pulling out of ona and guiding your mouth to the tip of her strap. the subtle smirk on her face grew as she watched you swallow up every inch of her strap that she offered to you. mapi eased into you as ingrid pulled out and pushed your face down towards ona's cunt.

you could hear lucy fucking into ona's ass from beneath her as ingrid guided each stroke of your tongue. occasionally, she'd pull your head away from ona to have you suck on her strap or give you a close up as she fucked ona. it was a lot, and the way that mapi roughly thrust in and out of you had your legs shaking quicker than anybody else had in a long time.

mapi kept thrusting into you even after your body had stilled. her pace was relentless, and you could only get her to stop by squirming away. you laid back against the pillows for a moment as you watched the scene in front of you. you got the sense that they had definitely done this together without you. mapi's strap found a home in ona's mouth, guided by lucy's gentle praises and the strong grip of her hand in ona's hair.

their positioning switched, and you found yourself invited onto lucy's face. lucy's tongue was comfortable and familiar, something that you had come to know well. lucy moved the same way that she always did with you, holding your thighs to keep you on her face until she was finished. you had more than enough freedom to wiggle around and position yourself more comfortably on lucy's face. she knew how important control over your own pleasure was for you sometimes, often having her own reservations about giving that sort of thing up, especially in front of a group.

"you look so good on lucy's face." ona's words were just barely strung together as ingrid began to fuck her once again. mapi was beneath ingrid, eating her out like how lucy was eating you out. you wondered if you were in what would normally be ona's spot, and if you were, the small spanish woman didn't seem to mind one bit.

she relished in the harsh thrusts of ingrid's strap moving in and out of her. you wondered what it would have felt like to be in her position, but you were content where you were. lucy's tongue brought you right up to your peak before easing you away from it only to work you up again and again. you weren't to the point of begging. you had never been able to hold out well, but lucy knew how to edge you for explosive orgasms.

you drenched her face as you squirmed and wriggled your hips wildly. ona was leaned over to lick away the cum you had left on lucy's face. you couldn't believe what you were seeing, and if your body didn't feel so spent, you would have re-joined them. lucy seemed to understand your exhaustion as she pulled you away from the bed to the bathroom.

the shower was spacious with a little ledge for you to rest on. lucy took care in helping you clean up, and the two of you soon found yourselves joined by ona, who seemed to be in a similar state to you. lucy took care of both of you with equal amounts of effort. the three of you were nearly finished when ingrid and mapi came into the bathroom. ona wrapped you up in a robe and led you into a different bedroom than the one you had just been in.

"do you want to stay?" ona asked you. you weren't used to having a space to stay. someone was always there with you, usually a roommate or close friend. someone who never judged you or would raise too many questions in the morning. everybody knew what you got up to, but none of them really ever put much thought into whether or not you spent the rest of your night alone.

"the question is do you want to sleep in here with us or do you want to go back to mapi and ingrid's room? it'll be cooler in here and mapi sleeps naked," lucy said as she walked into the room. there was an extra pep in her step, the one you recognized as her pride from making you and ona cum. she was feeling herself, and the confidence was extremely sexy.

"i don't think that-," ona started, only to be cut off by both you and lucy speaking in unison.

"it's different," the two of you said. ona rolled her eyes as she put a sleep shirt on and nothing else. you found yourself in a pair of lucy's boxers and one of your old england shirts that had mysteriously gone missing years ago. lucy got dressed in her own pajamas before she got in bed with the two of you, placing herself in the middle. the three of you fell asleep together, both you and ona laying there comfortably with one of lucy's arms around your shoulders each.

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hazbinshusk · 2 months

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husk x fem!reader. based on a wonderful idea from @mckeeks. when you fall asleep at the bar, husk finds himself enamored with the way you look when you're asleep, the way your hair feels under his touch. what's a kitty to do? 2.1k

featuring: pure pre-relationship fluff, huskerdust friendship & a smartass angel dust.

“Husk!”

The bartender looks up at the sound of your voice and the doors closing with a bang behind you, letting out a little mrrp of surprise as it drags him out of his revery. He swallows back the cattish sound distastefully, training his expression into one of detachment despite the affection he feels bloom in his chest at your smile.

Which means nothing, obviously.

You’re hanging off Angel’s arm and laughing, stumbling slightly over the polished floors as the two of you approach the bar. Angel’s face is equally flushed, but a quick assessment tells Husk that he hasn’t slipped in his mission to stay off the hard stuff. Angel takes your hand and lifts it above your head, the two of you giggling as you spin under it and fall into a barstool.

“We missed you,” you continue, smiling crookedly up at the cat behind the bar. Angel takes the stool beside you, winking at the bartender. You pout childishly and Husk reaches automatically for a bottle of schnapps. “The guy at the place was an asshole.”

“The guy. At the place.” Husk repeats dryly, a smirk playing at the edge of his lips.

“The bartendah,” Angel explains, snickering. He raises his shot glass in thanks to Husk before tossing it back. “She fuckin’ told him so, too.”

“Christ.”

“Almost like she’s got a preference for a certain fluffy faced fucker back here at the hotel,” Angel insinuates snidely, and Husk shoots him a glare. The spider shrugs, undaunted, and sing-songs, “’m jus’ sayin’…”

“You say too much,” Husk deadpans back at him, and Angel grins.

“You should’ve come with us,” you murmur, your cheek in your hand. “Angel said he missed you, too.”

“Pretty sure I said ‘Husk makes a stronger drink’,” Angel retorts. “You’re the one who got all moon-eyed over the idea o’ Huskie getting’ handsy on the dancefloor.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, bumping your shoulder against Angel’s. Your cheeks warm as you meet the bartender’s eye. “That’s not what I said.”

“What I heard.” Angel shrugs, sliding his glass back towards Husk. “Ya should hear the mouth on this one, Husk. What she said she’d do to you…”

“Shut the fuck up.” you and Husk say in unison, and the porn star laughs boisterously. Husk swallows against the thoughts Angel’s words have conjured, tipping a bottle your way in offer.

You shake your head, eyelids drooping now that you’re back in the familiar warmth of the hotel, sleep quickly settling into the drunken embrace of your mind. You keep talking even as your eyes close.

“Should’ve come, though,” you repeat. “Would’ve had so… fun…”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Husk finds himself almost hyperaware of your presence at the bar; a feeling that doesn’t seem to dissipate even as the night drags on into the into the very early hours of the morning. You’ve long since passed out, your arms folded on the bar in front of you, your cheek resting on your forearm. There’s a soft rosiness to your cheeks, your lipstick so faded that it’s barely more than a blush against your full bottom lip. It stirs something inside him that he tries to ignore, but his tail waves slowly behind him all the same.

Angel is bending his ear with the latest tales from the studio, and Husk is more than happy to listen to his friend vent about the more vanilla crap he has to put up with. Apparently, Valentino has been distracted of late, leaving the directing to some other perverts in the studio. This has meant that Angel has been able to actually enjoy some aspects of the job more than he usually would. Namely, the embarrassing faux pas and fuck ups of his costars.

Husk is chuckling over an overly descriptive recount of a mishap involving raspberry flavored lube and an overly-complicated sex swing when he turns to see Angel tearing up a napkin and sprinkling the pieces of it in your hair. A soft, warning growl rumbles out of Husk instinctively. “Leave her be.”

“I ain’t doin’ nothin’.” Angel says innocently, holding up his top two hands in surrender. Husk raises an eyebrow at him as one of his lower hands picks up another handful of makeshift confetti and drops it on your head. Your nose twitches as a few pieces fall over your face, tickling at your skin.

“Wake her up an’ I cut you off,” Husk warns. “You’ll be stuck swillin’ the cheap shit I know you’ve got stashed in your room.”

“Ooh, look at you, Huskie… I think your heart might be growin’ three sizes in there.” He leans over the bar to poke Husk in the chest with his finger. He goes on to walk his fingers down over his furry stomach. “D’ya plan on showin’ her what else you’ve got that’ll grow three size—”

Husk knocks his hand away just before his fingers can make contact with the waistband of his pants. “Watch it.”

Angel cackles, settling back into his seat and picking up his glass. Husk glowers at him for a moment before his attention is drawn back to you when you shift slightly, burying your face deeper into your arms. He reaches out without really thinking, picking a few pieces of napkin out of your hair with careful claws. Husk pointedly ignores the raised eyebrow and knowing smirk the spider gives him.

Their conversation shifts and Angel launches into a new story, and each time he finishes refilling the porn star’s glass he finds his paw returning idly to your hair, even after he’s fished each piece of napkin out of your locks. Instead, he just trails his claws gently through your hair, softly detangling it and enjoying the way the movement teased the scent of your shampoo into the air.

You sigh happily in your sleep as his claws scratch so lightly against your scalp and down to the nape of your neck, and Husk feels the small smile that touches your features reflected on his own. Angel has long since stopped commenting on his actions, secretly enjoying the way Husk’s expression has softened as he dotes quietly on you.

“She is sweet on ya, ya know,” Angel says quietly, and Husk snatches his hand away from you, shooting the spider a glare.

“Can it.”

“’m serious,” he insists. “Two o’ you are like Romeo and fuckin’ Juliet the way you look at each other… without all the teenage angst bullshit ‘n’ waaaay more sexual tension.”

Husk scoffs, busying himself pointedly by running a rag over an already clean glass. “She can do better than me.”

“Sure,” Angel shrugs jokingly. “But this is hell, baby. Pickin’s are kinda slim.”

“So… I’m the best of a bad situation?” Husk says with a small, self-deprecating smirk. You whine softly in your sleep and Husk’s hand returns automatically to your hair. You relax under his touch with a quiet exhale, and Husk returns to the slow, comforting rhythm his paw had had in your hair before.

“Ain’t that all we can be down here?” Angel shoots back, finishing his drink. He stands, running a hand through his hair and swaying slightly on his feet as the booze hits his system in earnest. “’m jus’ sayin’… jump on it while ya can, ‘cause an ass like that gets a hell of a lotta attention in the clubs. She won’ be single forever.”

A quiet growl escapes Husk unbidden, and Angel’s grin widens.

“Alright, let’s wake her ass up, already. ‘s time for bed.”

“I, uh…” Husk clears his throat, color staining his muzzle. “I got her. You head on up.”

“Ohhhh, you takin’ my advice then?”

“I swear, Angel, you don’t let up, I’m gonna kick your scrawny ass.”

Angel winks at him, blows him a kiss. “Be careful, baby. I might like it.”

Husk rolls his eyes as Angel turns on his heel and traipses upstairs, humming a taunting melody that echoes off the high ceilings. The bartender is pretty sure he recognizes it as being one about ‘sitting in a tree’, and he grumbles quietly under his breath about ‘asshole spiders’ as he rounds the bar.

He comes to a standstill by your side, the color in his cheeks burning deeper. Husk finds that he doesn’t want to wake you. He knows this sudden reluctance is stupid, but… as strange as this strange, one-sided intimacy he’s concocted between you is in this moment, he knows he’ll crave it again as soon as he breaks it by waking you up. He strokes his claws through your hair and down onto your shoulder, casting a glance back up at the stairs before squeezing your arm gently.

“Hey, sweetness,” he murmurs, the pet-name slipping out unbidden. He touches a hand to the strands of hair that have fallen over your cheek. “’s time for bed.”

You stir reluctantly, your mind conjuring images of soft hands and a softer voice as you edge back into wakefulness. Your voice comes in a rough whisper, weighed down with sleep. “…Husk?”

He smiles softly as you meet his eye, making move to pull his paw away. He stops when you lean into it, your brow furrowing slightly. “We’re closin’ up for the night, doll. Time to go.”

You groan, the furrow between your brows deepening. “No… stairs…”

He breathes a quiet laugh, carefully pulling you up against him. You turn into him as soon as you feel the warmth of his fur, resting your cheek against his chest. Husk freezes for a moment, lips parted slightly in surprise. Not just at you… but at his own body’s reaction.

Husk has done just about everything in Hell. His time as an Overlord… well, he’s pretty sure he’s done some things that’d even make Angel blush. But you… just the feeling of you leaning into him like this… it’s making his heartrate rise like nothing else has before. Warmth that he hasn’t experienced since… since he was topside was spreading through every part of him.

“C’mere.” he mutters, bending down and scooping you up into his arms. You make a soft noise of surprise but don’t complain, and Husk smiles to himself as you settle into his embrace. Curling your hands up in the fur of his chest, you tuck your head up under his chin, nuzzling into the warmth and softness of him. Husk’s breathing hitches slightly, his eyes closing for a moment before he begins to make his way up the stairs.

“Strong…” you murmur into his chest, curling fur around your finger idly.

“Years of tossin’ drunks.”

“’m not drunk,” you slur, lips brushing against the base of his throat. Husk shivers. “You’re… drunk.”

Husk hums in amusement, tapping his chin against your hair reassuringly. “Don’t worry, sweetness. Wouldn’t do that to a girl like you.”

“Good,” you smile tipsily into collarbone. You lower your voice further, speaking in a stage whisper. “’Cause, I’m… drunk.”

“I noticed,” he chuckles, grateful for the elevator Lucifer installed during the rebuild. He manages to extend a claw and press the button for your floor, stepping into the little room as the door ding open. “’s our little secret.”

“Mmm…”

“Got your key?”

You nod, digging into your pocket clumsily. You almost drop it as soon as you hold it up, a drunken giggle slipping out of you. You let your head fall back against his shoulder lazily as he carries you to your door. Husk turns his head to bump his cheek against your temple, and you reach up with your free hand to scratch your nails under his chin. A purr rumbles through him before he can stop it, but embarrassment doesn’t have a chance to take root when he hears the happy little gasp you let out in response.

The purr continues as he sets you down on your bed, bending down to tug off your shoes before meeting your eye again. “You good? You need anything?”

You frown, shaking your head, lower lip pouting. Fuck, he wants to kiss it. “Where’re you going?”

“To my room,” he tells you gently. He smooths hair away from your face with careful claws, letting them linger against your cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

You groan, rolling onto your side to better face him. You’re already waning again, your eyes falling closed and your voice barely more than a mumble. “When’s morning?”

“Sooner than you think,” Husk says; the sky outside already beginning to burn with the first haze of the blood red sun. He hesitates a moment before he bends down again, brushing a kiss against your temple. “Goodnight, love.”

“Mmm…” you sigh, tugging a pillow to your chest. “Night, Husk.”

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illyrianbitch · 8 days

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Handsome as Life and Poison

For @erisweekofficial Day 6: Retellings

Pairing: Reader x Eris

Summary: Defying your father’s sacred command, you wander to the grove where Spring and Autumn blend, only to encounter a sinfully divine figure with glowing amber eyes.

Warnings: sexual content/smut, nsfw! religious & biblical undertones & allusions, reader is overly innocent/naive, implied loss of virginity, sinner eris

Word Count: 3.5k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You shouldn't be here.

You can feel it in your bones.

You've never traveled this far, never managed to make it to the border. Your father warned you about this area, where the bloom of spring meets the decay of autumn.

He says that there is evil that lurks under the canopy of fire trees, that the blood of Autumn is so cruel it's cursed their very ground. Father has warned you that if you were to come across a fall beast, you would never return. At least, not the way you once were.

You understand his concerns—to a certain extent. He's protective. He has a certain plan for your life. Safety, purity, security above all. And father has been stressed recently, twitching hands and sharp reprimands.

Your High Lord has descended into madness, moving on all fours, his paws sinking into the mud, more beast than man. He prowls in the darkness now, no better than the creatures he once cared for, and your father believes there’s safety in the small village you call home.

It’s far enough from the heart of Spring to grant a quiet, predictable life. The faces around you never change, familiar and worn like the stones that line the village paths. It's peaceful, quaint—a life promised to you forever once you marry Adramis, the neighbor’s son.

Until then, your father urges you to stay safe, to temper the curiosity he knows stirs within you, the kind that might lead you too far, too soon.

Yet, despite his warnings, you find yourself here, day after day, drawn to the very place you’ve been commanded to avoid.

It's prettier, somehow, at this time of day— in the dim dusk, when the birds are beginning to tire. The air is tinged with an unfamiliar chill, a whisper of the season’s change that beckons you closer. You can see the colors of the autumn leaves clearly, watch as they sway in an intricate dance of red, orange and gold.

The movements stir something within you—a call like the ancient siren songs your father once spoke of, drawing you into the twilight's fire embrace. You take another step further into the shifting hues of the forest.

The rustling of leaves comes to your ears—soft, hesitant, as though a beast moves swiftly through the underbrush. The sounds intensify, multiplying by the second.

Beasts, you think, multiple.

You catch a fleeting glimpse of red hair through the tangled foliage, a figure half-hidden by the encroaching shadows.

You stop, and a sickening thrill rolls through you. You should turn back. But a phantom hand seems to beckon to you, an invisible thread leading you deeper.

Then you see him.

His clothes, finer than any you’ve seen even at your High Lord’s court, cling to his tall, lean frame, the dark green fabric glinting with gold thread that catches the last remnants of the fading sun. Each detail—his long, tailored coat, the sharp lines of his collar—speaks of wealth, power, and a meticulous cruelty you’ve only heard whispers about.

Your breath hitches. You know, deep down, who he is.

He’s surrounded by beasts, ferocious creatures with eyes gleaming in the half-light, their snarls low and guttural. Their presence should terrify you, yet you can barely hear them over the thundering in your chest. You count more of them than you have fingers, but with a subtle motion of the prince's hand, they fall still. Regal, patient, they sit at his side, watching you with the same unnerving calm as their master.

He studies you.

You want to take a step forward, to speak to him, but a rustling sound breaks through the stillness behind you. You turn sharply, scanning the underbrush.

From your side, a firm hand clasps around your arm, jerking you back with startling urgency. Almost immediately, once your body has been moved, the touch leaves you.

You meet the frantic gaze of your fiancé. His eyes are wide and his chest is rising and falling with uneven breaths. He ran here, you conclude. Past the border of Spring.

He's scared. Not just for you—but of something else entirely. Adramis is afraid of your father more than he is of what lurks in these forests.

"What are you doing here?"

“I saw—” You turn quickly, pointing toward where the figure stood moments before, but the woods are empty. The fire hue of his hair, the regal presence, the hounds—all gone, swallowed by the shifting shadows of the trees.

You glance back at Adramis. He's staring at you with furrowed brows, lips pressing together as if he's unsure whether to scold or comfort, wary as if you were troubled in the mind. His eyes scan your face, searching for something. You're not sure what.

“It’s almost dark,” he says, his voice calm but insistent. “We should get back.”

There’s no question in his tone. It’s not a suggestion, not really. He’s telling you—gently, but still telling you. He'd never force you, no, Adramis is sweet. Simple. But he’s a male and you are his promised bride. What good would you be if you were to get lost in the autumn woods?

Nothing at all, you suppose.

You don’t answer him. Your mind wanders to the fire-haired prince, to his amber eyes and the strange pull that brought you here.

Your silence seems to worry Adramis more. He steps closer, his hand hovering near your skin but never making contact, as if he’s afraid to touch you.

“Are you feeling alright?”

His voice is soft. Too soft, almost, to where it makes you shiver uncomfortably, like the touch of something too light, too ghostly.

You momentarily expect him to reach out, to place his delicate hand on your forehead or gently touch the flushed skin of your neck. But Adramis only hesitates, his hand hovering in the air for a moment longer before pulling back.

Too good for his nature, too holy to even touch you with a bare hand.

With a slight shake of your head, you dispel the strange sensation that lingers.

“No, I’m alright." You blink and muster a smile. "Thank you.”

He nods, though his eyes remain troubled. You follow him back toward the familiar warmth of home, casting one final, reluctant glance at the encroaching shadows of where autumn's decay kisses the air.

The leaves are aflame with fading light, but beyond them, the darkness waits—quiet, watchful, tempting.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You're grateful for the familiar routine of your father’s sleeping hours, for the certainty that he wouldn't wake for another few hours.

The sun is still waking now, too, its low, gentle light spilling into the navy sky. It is as slow and tentative as you, quiet in its bearings.

The air is cool and biting, the kind of chill that lingers in the space between night and day.

You wrap your cloak tighter against yourself. It's a thin fabric, white with green thread. It does little to ward off the morning’s bite, but you don’t mind. You welcome the cool breaths that manage to slither past the soft cloth.

The scent of the autumn forest is sharper, more vivid than the soft blooms of home, where everything is neat and ordered. It smells richer, more alive. As traitorous as it feels, you almost prefer it.

It’s only a short walk before you find yourself in the familiar patch of trees. The autumn leaves sing their song, that same siren call that led you here again.

And he’s there—alone this time. Waiting.

His amber eyes gleam and shine with a glow that you’re certain is sinful. You know, deep down, that you should leave, that holding even his gaze, with that burning stare, is treacherous. But you do not.

You're unsure of what to say, unsure if you should wait for him to speak. He pushes himself off the tree he'd rested against.

"Hello again, little lamb."

His voice drips with a smooth, hypnotic cadence. It wraps around you like an incantation, compelling and unholy.

It's strange to see him before you, to have him acknowledge you, to hear his voice directly. You glance around him almost instinctively, as if expecting his hounds to materialize from the shadows, to form a regal, beastly, floor-lain crown once more.

As if he senses your question by look alone, he lets out a small laugh.

"It's early," he says. "Even beasts must sleep at times, too."

Against your better judgment, the corners of your lips twitch upwards. He scans your face, taking another step towards you. You stand still, remain in the spot you had froze in. He begins to study you, walks around you like a shrine.

"A bit far from your home. Curiosity must be a powerful force."

He stops before you. You can smell him now. It envelops you—rich and intoxicating, a blend of autumn leaves and something darker, more primal. You clench at the sensation, a sweet tingle spreading through your body. It courses from your head to your fingertips, settling deep in your now aching core.

"My father says it's my nature."

Eris hums. The answer seems to please him. "And what else does your father say?"

You admire him for a fleeting moment. When the gentle breeze rakes its fingers through his hair, it glows like a live fire. Freckles dot his skin, spread across the pale coloring like the stars you adore in the sky. His eyes are a molten gold that match the detailing on his fine coat.

"That I shouldn't be here," you finally respond.

A serpent-like smile curls at his lips. It spreads slowly.

"And yet here you are."

You nod. The faintest shiver of fear lingers in your veins, but you're unable to tear your eyes from him. You feel an inexplicable pull, wishing for him to come closer, to feel the brush of his presence against you.

Eris takes a step forward, his hand extending to graze the edge of your cloak. The touch is feather-light, a barely-there whisper of contact that sends a jolt through you. But it's firmer than Adramis's touch. It leaves you wanting more.

"Do you know who I am?"

You nod again. "Prince," you say, almost timidly. Quiet like a prey. "Son of the High Lord."

"Eris," he corrects. "My name is Eris."

"Eris," you repeat, his name falling from your lips like a comfortable prayer. You want to say it again, to taste the sweetness it offers your senses.

"And you are?"

You pause, brows furrowing slightly as you hold his gaze. His eyes still gleam, still glow with something so deliciously sinful, but something in them coaxes an answer from you.

"Y/n."

A moment passes. Eris takes a breath.

"Why did you return, Y/n?"

The way he says your name—a silky caress, a whispered secret—makes you yearn for him to repeat it, to let it roll off his tongue again and again. You have never heard anything so beautiful, so mouth-watering. You've never felt a desire this strong.

You struggle to find words, your head shaking slightly. “I-I don’t know.”

Eris’s gaze drifts to your lips, eyes darkening with a predatory curiosity. You're acutely aware of your lip trapped between your teeth and self-consciously release it, swallowing hard.

His eyes are intense as he meets yours again, almost devouring. But not scary. Not terrifying like you'd once believed.

"Does your village bore you?"

He knows where you live. That buried sense of fear begins to flare and you blink, swallowing hard as you take his presence in once more. He doesn't move, doesn't say anything else. Slowly, the fear dissipates.

"Yes," you admit. There is a stillness in your home that bores you. It makes your bones ache with craving. "But it is all I know."

He studies you for what feels like an eternity, his gaze intense and all-consuming. His hand, almost imperceptibly, brushes against the fabric of your cloak once more.

"You should return home, little lamb. Your father is going to worry."

Eris turns and leaves before you have a chance to respond.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The secret should make you feel dirty, feel guilty like a reckless child, but it does not.

You wake before dawn and, like clockwork, you're traveling before the first ray of morning.

It's become routine now.

You approach the familiar area, where the border of Autumn seems to hold its breath, waiting for you. And there, amid the crimson and gold of fallen leaves, lies Eris.

He’s sprawled on a blanket laid out on the ground, a feast spread before him. The array of foods is a vision plucked from your most indulgent dreams, an array of rich, and tempting dishes. Your mouth waters at the sight—at the lavish feast and the male who has provided it.

"Come," he beckons and pats the blanket beside him. "Sit."

You lower yourself, the fabric soft beneath you. The scents of the feast rise to meet you, mingling in the crisp autumn air. You turn to him, your large eyes drinking in the sight before you, the face of celestial allure: hair like a smoldering fire, eyes glowing with the golden light of autumnal sunsets. Eris’s features are etched with an ethereal grace that seems both ancient and timeless. With each passing day, you find yourself yearning to worship at his feet, to forge a devotion just for him.

“Eris?”

A melodic hum leaves his throat. “Yes, little lamb?”

“Why do you call me that? ‘Little lamb.’”

Eris's fingers graze your cheek, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His touch is gentle, almost reverent. "I believe you know," he murmurs, his voice a low, soothing caress.

"Why did you seek me out again?” You ask him, “Why do you wait here?"

A smile curls at the corners of his mouth. He lets his fingers trace the line of your lips, his touch light as a sigh. “I believe you know that, too.”

Eris's eyes glint with something that seems almost divine. It is unlike anything that you’ve ever known, nothing like the stories your father has told you. Your gaze drifts to the feast laid out before you. You reach for a small, perfectly ripe apple, its glossy skin catching the muted light. The fruit feels cool and smooth against your fingers.

Somehow, autumn's bounty surpasses even the lush abundance of spring.

A sense of longing stirs within you.

How naïve you had been to think that your village, your court, held all the wonders the world had to offer. You had planned to stay, to settle into a life of security and predictability, never daring to venture beyond what was known.

You turn to Eris once more. His eyes flicker, amber catching the light as he reaches out, fingers brushing against your arm. His touch is featherlight, yet it sends a ripple of warmth through you.

Your voice is barely a whisper as you confess, "I want to know a life bigger than my village."

“You wish to be free, little lamb?” He trails his hand down to where the apple rests in your grip, and with a slow motion, he gently takes it from you. "I can show you," he murmurs, turning the fruit over in his palm. His voice is like honey, rich and smooth. "You’ll know life—pleasure, want. All of it."

A tingle spreads through your body at his words, your breath shallow as you nod, leaning unconsciously into the heat of his presence.

“Yes," you breathe, the word barely a whisper. "I want to be free.”

Eris’s lips curl into a grin, a quiet satisfaction settling in his gaze. He looks pleased, eager, as if he’s waited for this moment since time itself began. He draws closer and you can feel his presence everywhere, consuming, enveloping.

His lips brush against your ear. “Then let me show you.”

The apple falls from his hand, forgotten. He inches closer, the space between you dissolving as his warmth spills over you. A hand finds the delicate line of your throat, fingers grazing against your pulse. With the lightest pressure, he lifts your chin, tilting your face toward his. His touch feels like a benediction.

He’s so close now that his breath melds with yours, the air around you thick with the scent of earth and fire. The world shrinks and the only thing that exists is him—his heat, his gaze, the slow, measured closeness that steals away your reason. His lips hover just above yours, and the ache of not touching nearly brings you to begging.

The first brush of his mouth against yours is light, a whisper, a tease, and you tremble beneath it. And then he claims you, his lips pressing against yours with a slow, haunting fervor. Your body goes slack as his movements seem to weave a spell, binding you to him with every caress of his tongue, every sigh he draws from your lips.

You feel him guiding you, lowering you gently onto the blanket beneath, the world beneath you falling away. Eris hovers above you and dips his head, pressing his lips to the soft skin of your neck. His mouth sears your senses as he works his way down, the press of his touch growing heavier, more possessive with every inch.

“Such beauty,” he murmurs, “Unfolding before me like the dawn. You were meant to be here.”

His words fall like a decree, a promise, and his lips continue their journey down, parting from your skin only to explore further. His fingers find the fabric of your dress.

The air shifts around you, something soft brushing against your skin, falling away with the gentleness of leaves in autumn, leaving you bare to the elements—and to Eris. The cool air grazes your skin in places untouched by even the sun.

His calloused hands explore your bare form, one cupping your breast, fingers pressing and kneading with a practiced touch. His lips follow, settling on the other, and your hands grip the blanket beneath you— knuckles white as he demands your gaze to remain on him. His tongue circles your nipple, amber eyes locked with yours, burning, all consuming.

Eris continues his careful exploration, moving downward as his lips follow the path of his hands.

Fingers spread you apart with a confident touch.

The sensation is profound and awakening, a mingling of sacred heat and cool anticipation. The essence of your very being is laid bare before him. You feel the brush of his fingertips against the tender places, feel as his lips follow with a similar reverence, their touch becoming a worship of its own.

And then he devours you with his mouth and hands.

His tongue traces every inch of your throbbing core, flicking and teasing your sensitive nub. Your entire body quivers beneath him. You’re overwhelmed by a tidal wave of sensations you’ve never known before—an innocent purity being slowly unraveled and transformed by his touch alone. You tangle a hand in his auburn hair as his fingers plunge deep inside you, scissoring and pumping, working you over until you’re a quivering mess of desire.

Your body responds instinctively. You’re writhing and squirming, small sounds of pleasure falling from your lips. He bathes in the moans, groans in response as you repeat his name like a prayer.

Eris sits up and soon you’re staring at his sculpted form, bare before you, ready to be worshiped, touched as he had explored you. His hardened length rests against you, blunt tip against your aching core, and you tighten your legs around him, pulling him closer. The crown of him splits you open with a steady pressure and he fills you completely, a divine intrusion that makes you gasp with the pleasure of being so thoroughly claimed.

Eris stills, his body pressed flush against yours, your walls clenching around him as you adjust to the new, overwhelming sensation. His face nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his hand cupping your breast, thumb teasing your nipple in slow, deliberate strokes.

“Let me show you how pleasurable life can be.” Eris leans down, his lips brushing against yours in a tender caress. “Just tell me you’re mine.”

You arch into him. “I’m yours,” you whisper, voice trembling with surrender. “Free me.”

And as he begins to move, begins to roll his hips against yours, you turn your head, gaze falling to the apple lying beside you, untouched yet no longer gleaming—its perfect surface now bruised, smeared with the dirt of the earth.

Father was right about one thing.

You'd come across a beast, indeed, and you could never return.

Not fully.

Not the way you once were.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

author's note: happy retelling day from ur local exmormon!! im an eve defender till i die. biblical lore goes crazyyyy

as always, thank you for reading <3

permanent tag list 🫶🏻:

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@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg

@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @book-obsessed124 @bubybubsters

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lonelywretchjervistetch · 2 months

Text

The State Birds Initiative - Introduction

Before I do ANYTHING else, and before you read anything else...let's start this with a little poll, shall we?

...Look, I'm an overly ambitious person by nature. It's a problem, I'm fully aware. So, in the midst of writing character essays, imagining my own version of the DC Cinematic Universe (I promise, I will return to the Legion of Super-Heroes series; been having writer's block, not gonna lie), and about a dozen other projects that don't include school and my job (one and the same thing, and I love both, but I'll get to that one day)...I had another thought. That I would like to present to the good people of Tumblr (and perhaps beyond).

The state birds suck.

Most people on Tumblr don't know this about me, save for a select few that no me in real life (hey guys, 'sup), but I'm an avid birdwatcher, and am currently working in ornithology as a profession and student. As such, and as a former (and future) teacher, I have a vested passion in spreading the word. And one of the first ways most of us in the United States engage with birds, other than through the world and people around us, is through our national bird and state birds. Oh, and for anybody reading this not from the USA, don't worry, national birds are included here, too.

Now, in case you don't know for whatever reason, each one of the states in the United States has a bird meant to represent the state, designated by the government and often nominated by the state's citizens. This tradition started in 1926, with Kentucky's national bird, the Northern Cardinal (Cardinalis cardinalis). Now, most states have an official state bird, although Pennsylvania technically has a state game bird, rather than a state bird. We'll get to it. But in any case, there's a bird associated with every state.

But, uh...most of them suuuuuuuuuuuck.

Now, for example, I'm not saying that the Northern Cardinal sucks. Far from it! I love cardinals, and honestly, who doesn't? They're handsome birds, they have a lot of character, they're recognizable in most states in the Union by most people. I love them! But, uh...cardinals are extremely overused as state birds. Kentucky chose them as their state bird first, and were followed by Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, North Carolina, West Virginia, and Virginia. That's ridiculous. Also, wait, really, Virginia? You saw that West Virginia had it already, and STILL went for the cardinal? What the hell?

But why? Maybe there's a good reason for all of those states to choose the cardinal, after all. Obviously, it's present in all of those states, because...well, the Northern Cardinal is basically everywhere. But other than that, why? Well, let's see.

Kentucky: Unclear, but it's likely because of its prevalence, songs, and nonmigratory behavior, at least according to some sources; there isn't a lot of evidence online as to why outside of this.

Illinois: For this one, we blame the children. Yeah, kids voted this one sd the symbol, choosing it over the bluebird, meadowlark, bobwhite, and oriole, according to the Illinois Department of Natural Resources. So, yeah, probably because it's familiar and red.

Indiana: For...reasons. Yeah, even less is known about this choice. Safe to assume, though, that it's because it's familiar and red.

Ohio: Apparently, this is because it's red and has a cheerful song. 'Kay. Again, not a lot of evidence for this one, but we'll go with it.

North Carolina: This one also came down to public vote, after a campaign initiated by the North Carolina Bird Club in 1943. It won over the red-winged blackbird, wild turkey, scarlet tanager, and gray catbird. Apparently, this was the second attempt at a state bird, as the Carolina Chickadee (Poecile carolinensis) had been chosen ten years earlier, but only retained the position for a week because the bird's other name is, and this is true, the tomtit. And that was apparently too lewd for the title of state bird. Jesus. We'll get back to that when I address North Carolina officially.

West Virginia: Again, chosen and voted by schoolchildren, and chosen because it's familiar, red, and has a cheerful song. 'Kay.

Virginia: No idea. Also, don't listen to the sites that say their bird "exemplifies the quality of the state" unless they have the GODDAMN PAPERWORK to back that shit up. If I had to guess, it's possibly because the northern cardinal is one of the first birds seen in the state by settlers to the continental USA, who landed in...Virginia. So, the state's got a historical connection to the cardinal, meaning that the last state to ratify it as a state bird is the one to make the most sense to do so.

So, yeah...only one of those makes sense to me. Otherwise, it just feels...random. And by the way, many of the state birds do make some sense. Utah's choice, the California Gull (Larus californicus), has roots in a Mormon miracle, which makes perfect sense for the Mormon state. Louisiana's Brown Pelican (Pelecanus occidentalis) is an iconic species to the American southeast, and a massive proportion of the species breeds in the state. Same goes for the Scissor-tailed Flycatcher (Tyrannus forficatus), the state bird of Oklahoma. Iconic and unique grassland bird, and it breeds within the state in high quantities for the global population.

But others? Why does New York (a state I grew up in and around) have the Eastern Bluebird (Sialia sialis) for its state bird? Because it's blue and nice-looking? Why exactly do Wyoming, Oregon, Nebraska, Kansas, Montana, and North Dakota ALL have the Western Meadowlark (Sturnella neglecta)? I love the song too, and it's an iconic grassland species, but really? All of you? And Maine? Maine...Maine. I mean, you didn't even go for a specific species and just listed "chickadee" as your state bird. Why? There is a MUCH. BETTER. OPTION. OBVIOUSLY. But...I digress.

...FUCK IT

WHY ON GOD'S GREEN EARTH IS MAINE'S STATE BIRD NOT THE ATLANTIC PUFFIN (Fratercula arctica)??? ANSWER ME MAINE GODDAMMIT

Seriously, what the hell? It's the only state IN THE UNION where the Atlantic puffin breeds, and it's an incredibly iconic bird! I mean, look at that thing! They're adorable, fish-eating, clumsy-flying, feathery orbs with a Froot Loops beak (for part of the year), complete with their own fucking cereal that I ate constantly as a child. And their babies are called pufflings! PUFFLINGS!!! DO YOU HEAR ME MAINE WHAT THE FU

...OK. OK. I'm good. Look, this genuinely irritates the SHIT out of me, both as a hobbyist and as a professional. There are near 1,000 bird species that can be found in the United States, and the state birds are, honestly, some basic-ass choices that doesn't BEGIN to explore the incredible diversity of this taxon. And honestly, maybe if we changed up the state birds, we could increase awareness for these animals and their conservation stories and needs. There are so many missed opportunities here for us as educators, birders, ornithologists, backyard birdwatchers, and even Birdblr, to educate those around us who aren't as ornithologically-inclined. Imagine being able to convince a friend to go find the state bird on a trip some weekend. It could be a fun activity, and a fun way to get into birdwatching and the natural world! IT'S GOT POTENTIAL!!!

And look, I realize I'm not alone on this front. Various people have proposed changing up the state birds, including some more powerful professionals than I. If you haven't seen it yet, check out this essay series from the Cornell Lab of Ornithology that came out last year, which asks whether or not eBird could be used to identify better candidates for state birds. And I'll be using it for what's coming next. Because here's the thing. I'm tired of ranting alone in the dark towards nobody while my fiancee is trying to sleep about this. I need to rant to you poor people instead. And what's more...I want people to rant with me. If they want to. So...

TO ME, BIRDBLR!!! LEND ME YOUR BINOCULARS!!!

I propose an initiative to create a new list of state birds for the United States of America. And I'm talkin' EVERY state, baby! Even the ones that have fitting birds, as mentioned above. We live in a GODDAMN DEMOCRACY, and I say that we put this to a vote. So, Imma make a series of polls, one for each state. And yeah, that's 50 polls. Each will have a selection of birds, including the current state bird for that state, and I'll present the options in each case. The rules and selection criteria for the birds I'll present are as follows:

The bird has to be wild and breed in the state in question. No migrants, to accidentals, no introduced species (looking at you, South Dakota), no domestic species (looking at you, Rhode Island and Delaware). They're from the state, they breed there, and they're wild. Don't have to be endemic to the state, but they need to be found there, at bare goddamn minimum.

No repeats! Every state will have a different species! No more repeats. If there are any ties for states to get a given bird, another set of polls will be made at the end to determine which state will get that bird, and the second highest bird will claim the spot for that state. I'll try to avoid that for each state, but we'll see how things go.

There has to be a reason for their selection. For each of the birds presented for each state, I'll make a solid argument for their nomination. This also goes for any birds submitted to me for suggestions (and yes, I mean to say y'all can make suggestions if you want to for each state). If you have a bird you think would be good for a state, especially if it's your state, please give me a reason. Not that it's pretty, not that you like it's song, not that it "represents the spirit of the state's people" for no easily defined reason. GIVE ME A REASON

And for now, that's it! And hell, if this gets popular or demanded (and I'm saying this if, like, 30 people pay attention to this post), I'll also do the District of Columbia and the U.S. territories. And hell (again), I'll even consider doing other countries if that gets demanded, definitely starting with Canada and seeing how things go from there. And finally...if people want it, maybe even the Bald Eagle (Halieetus leucocephalus) will go up for debate as the USA's national bird. Although, not gonna lie, I think that we're stuck with that one. Still, there are other questions that can be brought up if this gets popular enough. For now, though, let's focus on one thing at a time.

So, hopefully you answered the poll at the top, because I am curious as to what you think about your state bird. And just to set this up, the first state on the chopping block is Delaware, which has one of the most offensive state birds, in my opinion. Because seriously. What the fuck, Delaware? What the fuck.

See you soon, hopefully! And happy birding!

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

Introduction to the State Birds Initiative

Delaware - Poll | Results Pennsylvania - Poll | Results New Jersey - Poll | Results (coming soon) Georgia - incoming!

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autistichalsin · 1 year

Text

The fact that Halsin is almost certainly a recovering alcoholic is not discussed enough. Granted, the line that shows that this isn't just him not drinking much (like he tells you at the Grove celebration) is hidden behind a rarely-encountered party banter to Wyll.

Buuut here we go:

First is the aforementioned celebration discussion. Halsin doesn't go (as recovering addicts do- there's a reason alcoholics avoid bars and parties. If they go, they won't be able to resist). He tells the player with a smile that he only imbibes on special occasions because, basically, he can't hold his liquor. As Halsin tends to do when saying something that implies his trauma, he keeps it light. "I'd be bursting into song or declaring love for the first person I saw." Like it's just a funny little quirk.

Then comes the line to Wyll, which the player is not very likely to encounter, and Halsin still downplays a bit: "After the shadow curse, I became overly fond of honey mead and melancholy evenings by myself. Now I rarely imbibe - only on the most special of occasions."

Overly fond of not just the drink itself, but of "melancholy evenings by himself." Addicts often refuse to do their addiction in view of others, knowing the likelihood of being judged; this would have been compounded by Halsin, an apprentice-turned-leader, likely struggling to prove himself as worthy.

Wyll responds that he wants to break Halsin's dry streak (not grasping the depth of the issue), and Halsin doesn't respond- in the negative or affirmative. This indicates that he doesn't even consider breaking the Shadow Curse as a reason to break his sobriety.

Lastly comes the ending, where Halsin agrees to a drink. And immediately gives away something very telling: "Perhaps after a drink or five I'll be tempted to inflict some of my singing on you all - as if the city has not suffered enough."

Maybe if you are or know an addict, you spotted it. I'll give you a hint: it's not the jokes about his bad singing.

"Perhaps, after a drink or five".

Or five.

The instant Halsin imagines himself having a drink, it's not a drink or two; it's MANY. And yeah, sure, just saved the whole world, of course everyone's probably getting shit-faced-drunk, but he leaves no room for the idea that he could have just a single drink.

Which will be familiar for anyone who has spent time around addicts or is an addict themself.

I know it's understated, only being in a few scenes, and this one is easier to wave off than Halsin's sexual assault backstory. But I think it's still an important part of his story- showing how he struggles with control, and how he still carries a tremendous amount of trauma/PTSD from the Shadow Curse.

#halsin #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

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too-much-tma-stuff · 1 year

Text

Do What I Cannot

This is based on My Graveyard Song because I was captivated by the idea of Danny’s parents burying him alive. That’s basically the only part I took though. This is about him being confronted with his parents again once freed.

This is unedited so feel free to point out mistakes. Contains graphic description of violence.

-----------

The Justice League’s newest hero has been a wonderful asset, truly! Phantom is a rather powerful hero and even though some of his methods are a little questionable he follows the ‘no killing’ rule more strictly then some of the long-term members. Even if it’s just because he doesn’t want to deal with them as ghosts it still counts. Some of the more magical people have an idea that Phantom is more powerful then he’s letting on, but they don’t push it. After all he’s still just a teenager, they don’t really want to have him dealing with universal threats either.

Honestly even if he weren’t a hero Batman at least would have kept him around for the impressively positive affects he has on Red Hood. Jason had been calmer and more reasonable then he had been since his resurrection since digging up that grave and teaming up with Danny. It was just a little unsettling sometimes honestly, sometimes his eyes would glint with the green of the Lazarus waters and everyone would tense up prepared for an aggressive outburst only for Jason to announce he needed to find Danny and leave. The more suspicious minds found it odd, but they figured it was just because Phantom could calm Jason down and didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

Really the only problem was that knowing Phantom had alerted them to a potential new source of threat that they really knew very little about. The JLD knew some but not enough and the ways they had to fight ghosts were clunky and unreliable, they needed weapons that would work on ghosts. Not Phantom obviously, though the overly cautious ones privately thought about him too, just in case you know? And there weren’t many people who specialized in such tech, so of course their search lead them to the Drs. Fenton.

The magic users thought their methods were crude and crazy but had to admit they clearly worked so maybe it would be best to invest in at least some of their tech. At least to study and see if it could be improved on. So they were invited for a meeting, and it was decided Phantom would Not be told. Mostly because they didn’t want to stress him out and also because they’d learned these two were ‘shoot first ask questions later’ types who apparently didn’t believe there was such a thing as a good ghost so they might actually try and kill Danny on sight, which would be awkward.

The presentation they gave to the Justice League was predictably unhinged and they knew well enough to take all of it with a grain of salt, especially the part about all ghosts being evil. Danny had already explained it to them, that ghosts were driven by obsessions which meant they behaved differently then humans but the majority only lashed out when something got between them and their singular passion. Some were different, some had malicious passions and some were more complicated. Diana and J’onn both looked like they were trying hard not to pick a fight but they’d all agreed to smile and nod till they got access to the tech.

There was a familiar sudden chill in the room, looking around Batman could tell a few others felt it too, though Flash was typically oblivious.

“Oh dear,” J’onn whispered before Phantom appeared.

“Hey guys what’s up?” He asked, cheerful but slightly accusatory, they should have known better then to think they could keep the meeting from him. Before they could think of anything to say Danny’s eyes caught on the Fentons and narrowed.

“GET DOWN!” Jack yelled pulling out one of those stupid blasters from somewhere.

“What a perfect chance for a demonstration,” Maddie said, sliding on a pair of gantlets.

“You-you don’t recognize me, do you?” Danny asked, and for a moment he looked hurt, then something happened none of them had ever seen before, his eyes turned red. The toxic green they were used to changed to a deep, blood red and his feet touched the ground as he stalked forward. Jack shot, Danny didn’t break stride, a green shield blocked the blast like it was nothing. Maddie tried to lung and was immediately hit in the gut by one of Phantom’s ecto-blasts, knocking her back against the glass.

Batman leapt up and tried to lung and stop Phantom only to hit a wall that rippled with green, a bubble surrounding the ghost and the two hunters, invisible until struck.

Danny grinned, shark like teeth on full display without any mirth, white hair whipping in an unfelt wind, flowing so it almost looked like flames. “I guess I look a lot different then I did when you buried me alive huh? How long did you leave me? Because you ‘couldn’t kill you son’ so you thought it would be more merciful to lock me away till everything human about me rotted.”

“No,” Maddie gasped, recognition suddenly sharp and painful on her features.

“Yes ‘mom’,” Danny snarled bitterly. Jack tried to shoot again but the blaster was knocked out of his hands so quickly no one was sure what hit him before it could fully charge. “YOU MADE ME! AND YOU ABANDONED ME! You’re lucky someone found me, I would have gotten strong enough to break out on my own eventually and if I had I would have destroyed everything.”

“Oh my god, his parents?” Diana nearly whispered. Batman understood how she felt, Danny didn’t like to talk about how he’d ended up buried ‘alive’, that his parents were the ones who had done it… that was horrific. It made sense why he had never been able to speak about it, but Damn that would have been good to know before they had invited Danny’s abusers to give a presentation on weapons that had no doubt been used to hurt him. And now.. what? They couldn’t get to Danny, it seemed like he had gotten to the point that Raven did sometimes when her emotions overwhelmed her, could they get to Danny? Could they stop him from doing something he might regret?

“You are not our son,” Maddie hissed, her breathing still coming in a harsh wheeze from the blow to her stomach. “Danny is dead! He’s gone. You’re just an acto-entity imitating him, and not even well, you’re just a parasite.”

Danny seemed to be losing some control of his form, it was stretching, getting taller, his fingers curling into dangerous claws tipped with the blackness of the star studded void. “Pathetic mortals, you act as if you will never die, but you will join my kingdom. Perhaps it will be punishment enough to become what you hate, perhaps not. Perhaps I will speed up the process so you can’t hurt anyone else,” He snarled his hands beginning to glow with familiar green of his energy blast.

“Danny stop!” Superman said, hitting the burier to try and get through but not even he could break it. Danny didn’t seem to be responding to them though he was hesitating.

Batman was resigning himself to watching Phantom kill his once parents before Jason walked by him. Batman wasn’t usually taken by surprise, but he was shocked, and worried, both because he could see the green glow of pit madness through the eyes of his helmet, which was worrying, and because he walked through the burier keeping the rest of the heroes out like it was nothing.

He walked to Danny, taking his hand, there was a soft sizzle as the gathered green energy burned Jason’s hand without him even seeming to notice. He pulled Danny down to the ground from where he was floating, pulling the young hero into his arms. Danny let himself be pulled into Jason’s arms, the green energy fizzling out as he wrapped his own arms back around Jason’s waist, hiding against his chest. As the anger faded he slumped against Jason’s chest.

Just as the heroes were breathing a sigh of relief and relaxing Maddie went for the dropped gun. But she wasn’t fast enough as Jason drew his own pistol, the one with live ammo, and put a bullet in her head. Diana cried out in shock and Batman froze as blood and brain matter splattered over the watchtower floor and her body slumped. Before anyone could recover Jack followed, another shot executioner style and Batman had to turn away.

The watchtower was completely silent, enough so that he could hear Phantom’s soft sniffles as he cried into Jason’s chest. When Batman looked back Jason had holstered his gun and was just holding Danny Close. The green had faded enough from his eyes that it seemed safe, Batman approached warily and wasn’t surprised to find that the invisible burier was gone now that both the Fenton’s were dead.

“I’m sorry,” Danny said softly as he heard the approach, without emerging from his hiding place in Jason’s arms where he seemed to feel safe. “I wasn’t actually going to kill them, but I guess my want to, my emotions, were strong enough to make Jason respond. I didn’t mean to call you that way.” He looked up at Jason, his eyes green again though red rimmed from tears.

“It’s alright, I would have done it anyway,” Jason growled, holding Danny even tighter. “I’ve killed people for less, they deserved it.”

Batman took a deep breath forcing himself to keep his cool about his son’s constant flouting of his no killing rule, now was not the time to make Phantom feel worse. “Jason why don’t you take him down to one of the sitting rooms so he can calm down.” No doubt Phantom was reliving trauma, and grieving because even if he wanted them dead they had been his parents.

Jason nodded and scooped Danny into his arm who let out an indignant little squawk and insisted he could walk while making no attempt to actually get down. Jason ignored Danny’s performative complaints and kept the young hero’s head hidden against his chest so he wouldn’t have to see the corpses of his parents while Jason carried him out of the room.

Now, how best to deal with the aftermath of… all this. And later on he really would have to ask Danny and Jason what he’d meant by Jason responding to his energy, because it seemed like there might be something more to their relationship then just Danny calming Jason down and that was worrying to say the least.

Part 2: here

#danny phantom #maddie fenton #jack fenton #Maddie and Jack are bad parents #buried alive #tw gun violence #batman #superman #dc x dp #jason todd #can be read as dead on main #Danny got buried alive #full dead AU #Jason is Danny's thrawl but they're super chill about it

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belovedmusings · 11 months

Text

It’s just nerves.

Choso Kamo x You x Suguru Geto

Part one of the ‘Two + One’ story. Click for story masterlist.

Explicit Smut 18+ 🚫Minors DNI🚫

Guitarist! Choso Kamo is your boyfriend, and you’ve been together for a year. His previous band broke up and he’s been looking to join a new one ever since, so when he has an audition with a local up and coming one, you accompany him to give him support. That’s where you meet the band’s Bassist, Suguru Geto. The mutual attraction is immediate—but you love your boyfriend, and you resolve to keep your desires for Suguru suppressed, even as Choso is accepted into the band. The question is, can Suguru stay away from you?

Relevant tags: love triangle, sexual tension, slow burn, thoughts of infidelity, guilt, car sex, semi-public sex, accidental voyeurism, unprotected sex, creampie, PWP/Porn With Plot, shy and nervous Choso, Choso is a sweetheart as always, Suguru is a quiet yet confident flirt, Suguru has piercings and tattoos, you are addressed without the usage of “y/n”, AFAB reader with minimal usage of gendered language, reader has no defining characteristics for realism & inclusivity

Recommended songs to listen to while reading: You Right (Doja Cat, The Weeknd), nasty (Ariana Grande), West Coast (Lana Del Rey)

A/N: okay, hear me out. these two are an alt boy duo that i would not mind being tag-teamed by so…here tf we go. This was gonna be a one shot but I live for drama so there’ll be multiple parts.

Read below the cut:

Choso’s leg won’t stop bouncing up and down in the passenger seat as you drive towards the location of his audition.

He’s been looking for his place in a new band ever since his previous one broke up a few months ago, and he’d seen that the city’s most popular up-and-coming band Curse Manipulation posted an ad in need of a guitarist on their Instagram. The two of you like some of their music though you aren’t overly familiar with the band, so he figured it would be a no-brainer to audition.

You know he’s going to be accepted. Choso is an amazing guitarist, and he writes beautiful lyrics, too. Not to mention the haunting voice he can sing with.

You have complete faith in your boyfriend, and he is very aware of your support, and yet he’s still an endearing ball of nerves beside you.

“Hey,” you say softly, placing a hand on his thigh as you reach a red stoplight, easing onto the brake. You give him a reassuring smile. “You’re gonna do great, babe. I know it.”

He smiles half-convincingly at you, which in him is really just a twitch of the corner of his lips, and you can’t help but reach up and lovingly cup his chin between your thumb and index.

“I’ll be right there with you. So you don’t need to worry.”

He sighs, taking your hand in his and giving it a squeeze as the light turns green, allowing you to continue on your drive.

“Thanks,” his voice is quiet. “I just…really do like their sound. The more I think of it, the more I can see myself playing with them. I just hope they agree.”

“They will,” you say surely. “After it’s over, wanna get some McDonald’s? I think there’s a McFlurry with your name on it.”

He chuckles softly and nods. “Sure. That sounds good.”

You flash a grin as you turn onto the next street, entering a residential area with houses nicer than you were expecting. They aren’t mansions, but as you drive through, they’re definitely nicer than yours and Choso’s humble apartment.

“Huh. Didn’t know they made this much money already,” You think aloud, and he shifts beside you, also looking out of the window.

“I read about them a little,” Choso tells you, “Their bassist is a songwriter that’s pretty well-known in alternative music, apparently.”

“Yeah?” You ask, impressed. “So this guy’s a big shot?”

“Kinda,” Choso laughs breathily. “Honestly, I think that’s why I’m nervous.”

“You’re nervous that he’s a professional? A little intimidated?” You ask, and he shrugs.

“Could be,” he admits. “I mean, I know that I’m a good player, so that’s not it entirely. It’s just that if I do get put in the band, things’ll change. They’re gaining popularity, and with the experience he has, the band’s definitely going to get somewhere.”

You hum. “That sounds great. You’ve always wanted to do this as a career—and your stuff deserves to be heard, baby. Maybe you’re more excited than nervous.”

“Could be,” he shrugs, “It’s just a lot.”

“That’s understandable,” you reply, “It’s okay to be nervous. Auditions are scary as hell. But I’m telling you, it’s gonna be fine. We’re gonna get in there, you’re gonna play and blow them away, then we’ll get ourselves some delicious fast food and relax at home.”

He smiles softly at you, and you return it before looking back out of the windshield, seeing your destination approaching. You slow to a stop on the curb at the side of the house, shifting the car into park.

“All right,” You say. “We’re here. Ready?”

He takes a breath and nods. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

—-

A tall, pale man in a white muscle tank-top and baggy sweats greets the two of you at the door with a smile.

“Hi, you must be Choso,” He shakes hands with your boyfriend, “Suguru said you’d be coming. I’m Larue, the band’s drummer.”

“Hey,” greets Choso with his trademark small-smile, “I am. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Who’s this beauty you brought with you?” Larue asks, directing his attention to you.

You shake hands with Larue as you introduce yourself as Choso's significant other.

“Hi,” you greet, giving him your name. “I hope it’s okay I’m here.”

“Oh, of course,” Larue insists. “Come on in. The studio’s down the hall. Just leave your shoes by the door.”

He lets you two into the house, allowing you a chance to look around while you remove your shoes. It looks rather modern and minimal as a structure but the furniture has an eclectic, almost gothic feel to it, green plants livening up the space. It smells pleasant as well—like fresh juniper.

“This way,” Larue gestures to follow him, so you and your boyfriend do, your hand slipping into Choso’s to offer him comfort. He gives your hand a little pulse and you do one in reply as Larue leads you down the hallway, stopping at the door at the end. “Here we are.”

He pushes it open and enters, calling out to the occupants in the room. “Choso’s here for his audition!”

Choso enters first and you follow, entering the cozy studio, lit warmly with lamps, the floor covered in patchwork rugs, a sofa on one end across from a mixing board, and behind that, glass panes that lead to the sound booth, a room that houses the band’s instruments and equipment. Honestly, you’re impressed—you had no clue this band was so serious about their music. It makes your chest swirl with pride. This is the perfect chance for Choso’s talent to finally be recognized.

“Hey there, it’s nice to meet you in person,” a voice pulls you out of your appraisal and back towards the mixing board, where a man sits in a chair, smiling at your boyfriend. As soon as you look at him, his eyes meet yours, and you swear a little shock of electricity runs through you at that exact moment. His eyes flash with something indistinguishable. “I’m Suguru Geto. Bassist and frontman.”

Oh. He’s the singer, too? The bassist? That’s a little unusual, but it’s cool. He’s cool. He has gauges that are framed by long, dark hair, placid and gentle dark eyes, a pretty nose, smooth-looking lips with strong cheekbones and a sharp jawline to match. You can’t ignore the piercings he has on his face, one over his left eyebrow, thin silver hoops adorning his bottom lip in snake bites. Tattoos peak up from his collarbone under his black crew neck, and you trace your gaze down to his hands, fingers free of tattoos but the back of his hands themselves inked up, chunky silver rings making up for the empty room on his dexterous digits instead.

Your mouth goes dry. He’s gorgeous.

His eyes don’t leave you as he says, “who is this angel you brought with you?”

Choso’s hand on yours tightens, bringing you back to yourself. You manage a smile, trying to ignore your racing heart. You stutter as you answer him, cementing yourself as Choso's.

When you tell Suguru your name, and he repeats it, a smile stretches across his lips. “It’s very nice to meet you. Please, make yourself comfortable. Ah, and this is Miguel, our keyboards.”

He gestures to the man leaning against the wall in sunglasses, gold hoops handing from his ears. He smiles and waves. “Hey.”

“Hi,” replies Choso, “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

“Choso, you wanna set up with the amp over there?” Suguru points to the wall near the couch, and your boyfriend nods.

“Yeah, sure.”

You smile at him again, rubbing his arm gently before moving over to the sofa to sit beside Larue on the opposite end. Miguel takes a seat in the chair beside him as Choso sets about getting his guitar from its case, your eyes gravitating back towards the black hole in the room sitting at the mixing board.

You find his calculating eyes already on you, and instead of looking away at being caught, the corner of his mouth turns up. It makes you feel warm all over.

“So,” Larue speaks, cutting through the silence. “How long have you been playing, Choso?”

“I taught myself when I was thirteen,” He answers, taking the chord plugged into the amp and pushing the other end into his guitar. “I joined my band when I was fifteen, but it split because the others wanted to do their own things.”

“Ah,” Miguel chimes in, “That sucks. Everybody’s gotta be on the same page.”

“Yeah, but I really liked being in a band, so hopefully this goes well,” Choso smiles softly, standing up to sling the guitar strap over his shoulder. He checks to make sure the volume on the amp is down before switching it on, experimentally strumming at a few strings until the volume is at a good level.

“All set?” Asks Suguru, and Choso nods.

“Yeah. I really like ‘Love to the Strong’ so I’ll do that one.”

That was one of your favorites of Curse Manipulator. You and Choso listen to it a lot, and you’ve heard him play it before. He was able to figure it out just by listening, once again putting you in awe of him. You know he has this in the bag.

His black-painted nails form the first chord and he starts strumming, effortlessly switching to the next one and the next, starting to sing along like it’s second nature. You watch him with shimmering eyes. Whenever he plays, you can’t help but see him for the star he truly is. Everything about him is just so unique, so special. What had drawn you to him was his appearance, how unapologetically he expresses himself in what he wears, the spiky style he wears his hair up in, the tattoo across the bridge of his nose, the heavy eyeliner around his eyes…you even think about the tattoo of your name he’d gotten over his heart for your birthday in beautiful black lettering, one of many presents to you that day, and your heart flutters.

Wanting to read the room to see how the others are reacting, you look at Miguel first. He’s nodding his head along, brow furrowed with a smile on his lips. Good. He’s enjoying it. You look at Larue next, who is tapping along to the beat with his hand on his thigh quietly, dividing it even further with his foot.

Last, your eyes move to Suguru, who is moving in time with Choso’s playing, nodding with his chin in his hand. He seems to feel your eyes on his, because he meets your gaze in the next moment. That smirk finds its way on his face again, playful, and you feel your heart hammer hard against your rib cage involuntarily. Without looking away from you, he lets his index finger rest between his lips, tongue pushing against it just so you see the black ball of jewelry at the center of it.

Fuck. A tongue piercing.

A deluge of very lewd, very intrusive thoughts slam into you without your permission. What would his snake bites and tongue piercing feel like if you kissed him? Or if he tried sucking a hickey into your neck? How would his mouth feel around one of your nipples? Or, shit, how would it feel eating you out? Does he know how to use that little bead to his advantage? Would he use it to make you fall apart?

The song finishes and Larue’s enthusiastic cheers yank you from your wanton musings, dragging your eyes from Suguru’s poetic face back to your boyfriend.

Choso smiles at you, eyes searching for approval, for assurance that he did well, and you nod without thinking, a smile spreading over your face as you push the thoughts of Suguru down. You can compartmentalize them later—right now, you need to be a supportive partner. Relief washes over his face.

“That was great,” Suguru says, all business again, “I didn’t know you could sing. Would you be interested in doing toplines and backing vocals also?"

Choso nods. “Yeah, that sounds great. I uh, I write too. If you ever wanted to collaborate.”

“He’s really good,” you add, hoping the blush you feel when Suguru’s gaze finds yours again isn’t noticeable. He smiles at you and it makes you so warm, so nervous.

“That’s great,” He says, glancing back at your boyfriend. “Choso, I know it was a short audition, but I think we can all agree that you’re exactly what we’re looking for.”

You see Choso’s face light up, nuanced to most but so obvious to you, and you grin brightly. You knew it.

“Really?”

“Yep,” Miguel voices his agreement. “Welcome to the band.”

“Welcome!” is Larue’s input.

Suguru flits his eyes to you again. “Just what I’ve been looking for.”

Choso doesn’t see where he’s looking though, because he’s smiling at you, but you do see it, and you feel all sorts of emotions.

Suguru wants you. He’s made it obvious enough already, and that fact plays with your sanity levels a disturbing amount. You have Choso. You love Choso. You see yourself staying with him forever, because he makes you happy, and he makes you feel safe and taken care of. You trust him with your life and he’s never done anything to even waver that trust. You have never looked at another man like this the entire time you’ve been with Choso, either.

So why now all of a sudden is a simple glance from Suguru threatening to put you on your knees? What is going on with you?

“Thank you guys,” Choso speaks, oblivious to the turmoil inside of your head, “I’ll do my best.”

Suguru stands up and pats his shoulder. Oh fuck. He’s tall, shoulders wide—he’s intimidating. He looks like he could toss you around like a pillow. Choso’s build is nothing to sneeze at, but Suguru is just…huge. You silently beg for any god listening to take pity on you and force you to calm down.

“Come on, let’s all relax in the living room with some tea and get to know everyone better,” Suguru suggests, looking at you, “How does that sound?”

You have half a mind to run out of the house right now to prevent yourself from doing something stupid like jumping Suguru’s bones on the spot. Instead, you force a smile on your face.

“Sounds good.”

It’s an hour of soft torture on Suguru’s couch. You’re sandwiched between Choso and the arm of the blue velvet sofa, Larue on his other side. Miguel sits in a matching chair off to the right, and in the other one, directly to your left sits Suguru.

It’s obscene the way his legs are spread out, open like he has a third one in the middle and he needs room for it, and that thought keeps repeating in your head, contributing to the worst hurricane that’s ever ravished the shores of your mind.

His arms are no better, elbows perched on either of the chair’s arms, pelvis forward as he slinks lazily. He’d made tea for everyone when you went into the living room and when he handed you your mug, his fingertips brushed yours and it made you feel like a shy teenager with a crush.

You try really hard not to stare at him but your eyes keep gravitating. He’s leading the conversation, and a fair amount of questions have to do with you. You have no choice but to look at him. And fuck, you don’t mind, he’s sentient art. It should be punishable by law how sinfully his pierced lips wrap around the mug to sip at the tea. At one point while you’re talking about what you do for a living, Choso’s watching you as you talk. Since his eyes aren’t on Suguru, it gives the man a free-pass to test your patience. A drop of tea accidentally slides down the side of his mouth and he flicks his tongue out to lick it, stud glinting at you, and you fucking feel yourself start to get wet.

You tear your eyes away from him after stuttering, finishing your sentence and lifting the cup to your lips to give yourself something else to focus on.

Whenever he looks at you, you can just feel it. You feel it like when you stand too close to fire, heat just threatening to burn your skin, and you suddenly have the overwhelming urge to get fucked.

Wow, you think, real nice. You’re disappointed in yourself. You just met this man and he has this much control over your body? He hasn’t even really touched you.

Choso didn’t even have this effect on you. It was a pair assignment in a class you two had together that started it. He was quiet and frankly looked bored most of the time. He never spoke unless he was spoken to, or to ask you something about your assignments. When you were told you had to work with each other for the final, you two grew closer over meetings at cafes while you worked. You remember the first time you made him laugh. It was music to your ears, and it made your heart flutter. That’s when you started having feelings for him.

Everything he did after that was endearing. You started noticing that he would ask you more questions than necessary just to talk with you, you noticed he’d find reasons to prolong your meetings when you worked together, and he’d even pay for the food or drinks you’d order while working. He liked you, and you liked him back, and he was just so pure in his intentions, you fell even harder.

The night before the final was due, you were over at his place to practice. You’d been there a few times, as he’d been at yours too, and after polishing the project, you decided you two needed a break. You saw his guitar sitting against the wall and asked him to play something. He was hesitant, but ultimately couldn’t deny you, so he sat across from you and started strumming and singing a song you’d never heard before.

It was beautiful. The lyrics would put Hozier to shame. You suspected it was an original, too. You were probably biased, but hell, at that moment you knew he was someone you couldn’t let go of.

When he finished, he confirmed that he’d written it himself. You told him whoever he wrote it about was really lucky, and that if it was you, you’d fall in love with him immediately.

That was you opening the door, and he walked through it with earnest eyes and a hopeful smile.

He’s been your boyfriend since, and he’s made you so happy.

Remembering how you met Choso helps a lot to mitigate the damage Suguru is doing to your psyche, and to keep yourself strong, you don’t look at Suguru again. You fix your eyes on the mug, and a little after the tea is finished, you and Choso decide to go home.

Suguru sees you out after Larue takes care of your mugs, Miguel bidding you a farewell before he makes his way back to the studio. You get your shoes back on, hearing Choso express his gratitude again and agree to return tomorrow so that they can start rehearsing for their next gig.

“It was really nice to meet you.”

Suguru’s eyes are suddenly on yours again and it’s as if that flame that had been reduced to a steady, barely noticeable simmer roars back to life on high. He really is so fucking, damningly pretty.

“You too,” you manage with what you hope is a convincingly easy smile. He holds his palm out to shake hands, and your heart jumps in your ribcage. You fear touching him might rouse a beast within you that you previously had no knowledge of.

Out of courtesy and the obligation to uphold social cues, you lay your hand in his. His palm is warm. His fingers feel rough and firm, no doubt hardened due to his years playing bass. His skin looks nice against yours, you think intelligently, and before he lets go, he gives your hand a strong squeeze. Had you been any less of a person you would have buckled with your newly weakened knees. He has a strong grip.

What on you would he grab like that? Your thigh? Your ass? Your hips? Fuck, your neck?

Your smile tapers at the sheer indecency of your thoughts as he lets go, and you absentmindedly smile at him to try and save face, turning to follow your boyfriend out of the house and down the driveway.

“Get home safely!” Suguru calls behind you, and you hear Choso reply in kind. You can’t muster a response. Your whole body is buzzing. It feels like there are two wolves literally fighting for dominance inside of you. One of them is urging you to go home, to calm the hell down and maybe take out all of your newfound frustration on Choso.

The other one, however, is clawing at your back, trying to drag you back towards Suguru so that you can jump him and fuck him right in the front room of his house.

Obscene. Filthy. You need to get out of here. Who are you?

You make it to the car, but after Choso puts his guitar in the backseat, you hesitate before the driver’s seat.

“Babe?” You ask, and he looks over at you.

“Yeah?”

“Can you drive?”

“Of course,” he answers easily, moving around to meet you at the driver’s side of the car. You hand him the keys, but refuse to move. He tilts his head to the side. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you nod, unsure of who you’re trying to convince. You’re so torn right now. You feel so guilty for looking at another man the way you did tonight, but you’re also still so fucking horny and your angel of a boyfriend is standing right in front of you.

You decide to make a very lust-induced decision.

“Choso?”

“Yeah?” He puts his hand on your shoulder in concern. “What is it?”

He’s so fucking sweet. It warms your heart but you need something more, something crazy.

“I want you to fuck me.”

His eyes widen, and you can practically hear his heart stutter. He blinks, face reddening. “Well…when we get home, we can—”

“Right here, Choso.”

Another blink. He has no idea where this is coming from—you’ve never acted like this. Sex stays at home, in private.

“…right here? Right now?” He asks, looking around. It’s dark out now, the neighborhood lit up dimly by streetlights staggered up and down the sidewalks. “Outside?”

“In the car,” you say. That’s private enough, right? It should be. He swallows thickly.

“Are…are you sure? What if we get caught?”

You just want it so badly right now. You stretch the truth to get what you desire.

“I’m just so proud of you,” you say, heart feeling heavy. “You did so well today—you deserve it, baby.”

He smiles bashfully at the praise, scratching behind his neck. “I only did because you were here…I can wait until we get back. Don’t worry.”

It’s not working. God damn it.

You make a last-ditch effort.

“I know you can,” you say, getting in his space and touching his chest. Lowly, you add, “But I don’t think I can.”

His dark eyes widen again, an unsure smile twitching at his lips. “You want me that bad?”

It’s starting to work. “Yeah. Please, babe? Unless it makes you uncomfortable…”

“No,” he quickly shakes his head, “Let’s do it. Where do we…?”

You spring into action.

Your hand goes for the lever on the side of the driver’s seat, pulling it and reclining it all the way back.

“Sit, baby. I’ll ride you.”

He sucks in a breath and does as told, getting in the car and watching as you follow, shutting and locking the door behind yourself.

You straddle his legs and kiss him without a moment to waste, threading your hands in his hair. He reciprocates easily, sighing when he feels you pull the hair ties out to let his dark brown locks fall free. His hands find your waist as you start grinding on him to get him hard, relishing in the soft noises it starts to pull from him within minutes.

You think for a moment that this is crazy. You’re actually going to fuck Choso in a car. It is a little dangerous, but that excites you. You’re just so fucking turned on because of that infuriatingly gorgeous bassist…

Choso moans when you grind harder, his hand slipping up the leg of the denim shorts you’re wearing and past your underwear, finding you to be drenched.

“You really did want this,” he laughs breathily, and you feel another pang of guilt. He’s feeling the result of miniscule attention from Suguru. Sick. It’s sick.

You can’t do this to Choso. You need to focus on him. This is happening between the two of you and no one else.

“I did,” you choose to smile back. “Let me have it now, baby?”

He sucks in a slow breath and nods, pupils blown, reaching down to unzip his jeans. You help, popping the button and reaching down to free him from his boxers.

He’s hot and firm in your grasp and you can’t help but stroke him a few times, enjoying the groans it pulls from his throat.

Painfully aware of your own arousal, you decide not to tease him anymore and shift, lining him up with your entrance. Just like that, with all of your clothes still on, you slip him inside, moaning at the relief the pressure of his girth provides your needy walls.

His hands stay on your hips as you start bouncing on him, his brows furrowing, eyes fixed on your face.

“Fuck,” he breathes, breathing ragged and erratic. You hear the wet noises obscenely in the small space, covering his shaft with your essence, and you roll your hips, teasing his tip against the sensitive spot inside of you.

“Choso,” you hiss, aiming there. Recognizing you found it, he starts thrusting up to meet your movements, heightening your pleasure. You throw your head back, mouth falling open. “Oh god baby, yes…”

His eyes flutter shut and you start riding him faster, his jaw clenching as he bites down. A strained grunt escapes with his voice, neck veins protruding, and you move your hands before thinking, wrapping them around his neck.

He groans louder as you apply a tiny amount of pressure, voice switching and going higher. You’re thoroughly wrecking your boyfriend now and it’s making your mound practically weep over his cock, uncaring that the car is rocking with your movements.

Your eyes flit to the side out of the window, and what you see punches heat into your gut so hard you gasp.

Suguru is standing on the balcony of what must be his bedroom, looking right into the window of your car at you, and only you.

He’s holding something between his fingers that looks like a cigarette, smirking down at you as he leans his cheek against his palm. Keep going, his eyes say.

You don’t dare disobey him. The thought doesn’t even cross your mind. You ride Choso even harder, getting the head of his throbbing cock to hammer against the most sensitive part of your insides.

You chance a glance down at Choso, who is still lost in a world of his own, eyes squeezed shut, and you look back up at Suguru, who is taking a drag.

He blows out smoke and it makes you clench hard around Choso.

“Fuck,” moans your boyfriend, “M’close, so close…”

You are too. The cock inside of you is so good, the friction of your shorts on your pearl is starting to overwhelm you, and Suguru watching you with absolutely zero shame is twisting your instincts into knots.

He corrupts you with dirty thoughts just by looking at you.

If it were him, the moment you’d asked to fuck, he probably would have pushed you into the backseat. You’d have been on your hands and knees, or maybe laid out on your back as he railed you so disrespectfully you’d feel him trying to invade your ribs. He’d call you all sorts of names, degrade you for being a slut, for not being able to wait.

You moan louder, feeling so close you’re about to lose your mind. Choso mewls beneath you, voice becoming lost to the whimpers he gets only when he cums.

“Baby, baby,” his voice rings out, “Fuck, I’m cumming…”

You feel it spill inside of you and as soon as Suguru’s smirk deepens, his head tilting as if to say ‘go on’, you orgasm hard.

“Oh fuck!”

Choso grunts as you clamp down on his sensitive member, slowing his thrusts to a stop as you pant heavily. You see Suguru grin and straighten up, lingering his gaze for a moment longer before turning and leaving you alone with Choso once more.

Now without the object of your forbidden desires, you slump forward, laying over Choso’s chest. You kiss his sweaty neck lovingly, embracing him tightly as the post-coital clarity starts seeping back into your head.

“Thank you,” you breathe, “I love you, Choso.”

You do. You love him. Suguru is just a fantasy and he’s going to stay that way. You’re happy with Choso and that’s the end of the story. You’ll just have to avoid Suguru and everything will be fine.

“I love you too,” He replies softly, kissing the top of your head. “Always.”

You close your eyes, biting back a heavy sigh.

I’m so sorry, you want to say, but resolve to make it up to him by just being a better partner to him than you have been, though he’s never complained. You’re not going to let this new infatuation take root.

What you don’t know is that this is only the beginning.

---

Please don't repost or translate! Feel free to reblog/share it you liked it.

A/N: I'm not even gonna lie I'm so excited for this, I have so much hot drama planned you're gonna love it. Comment to be added to my taglist for when the next parts come out!

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blackgryph0n · 3 months

Text

BillieBustUp: A Boycott?

Hazbin Hotel is implicated, too.

cw: child grooming

Short version: BillieBustUp hired a known child groomer Blackgryph0n/Gabriel C. Brown, and the lead dev Katie Nelson is digging in their heels defending him, claiming that the groomer says he's innocent, and the "haters" are all sockpuppets for his wife/victim's abusive father. The evidence against him is piling up, and it seems like BillieBustUp, a game founded on LGBTQIA and disability representation, will instead be the face of uplifting pedophilia and child grooming. Gabriel is also the voice actor for Hazbin Hotel's Alastor, but only his singing role in the pilot, the song "Insane" which has risen to some popularity.

On June 14, 2024, Twitter user dagobbiEST posted a Twitter thread that implicated the creator of BillieBustUp, an upcoming indie game helmed by Katie Nelson/KatieBlueprint, in defending the actions of the voice actor Blackgryph0n, aka Gabriel C. Brown, who voices the character Barnaby. For those who were present in the My Little Pony fandom during 2014, you will know BlackGryph0n best either for his videos or perhaps for his most infamous accomplishment, which was creeping out many fans with his overly-familiar relationship with voice actress Michelle Creber, who was 14 to his 24.

Blackgryph0n went on to groom and subsequently marry Claire Corlett, Michelle's coworker and friend (and fellow 14 year old) when she turned 20, who was then isolated from her entire family, citing abuse. (The author does not deny that she may have been abused; it is typical for a groomer to pursue a minor who has a strained/difficult family situation.)

The facts are simple: Gabriel met Claire when she was a child, only 14/15, in a position of authority over her as a sound engineer at her voice acting job. The fact that they then later pursued a relationship, even if "she initiated it", implies that there was grooming taking place over the years in between. The groundwork of a relationship was built with a minor, even if it was not overtly romantic until later. For more information on grooming, please see here.

Scads of screencaps were rapidly produced on Twitter after the initial screencaps of the BillieBustUp Discord were posted, including many tweets with proof of Blackgryph0n's inappropriate flirting with the child actresses back to when they were 15 and 16. Gabe's claims that they "became friends only four years ago" (conveniently when she was 20) were quickly debunked as lies, due to all of the overwhelming Tweet and video evidence.

A list of links with more information:

A gathering of some of the most damning tweeted evidence to dispute the "only befriended her when she was 20" claim by Gabe.

A Reddit thread from r/YouTubeDrama concerning the recent allegations and firsthand witnesses to creepy behavior at conventions. Key quote:

"To provide some context, Gabriel knew them from that age because of his work. He is the only notable brony who concurrently worked on the show, though only peripherally as a backup voice/sound engineer for the sound and music team. However, he was around early on, and thus had access to FiM's voice actors, including the then-child VAs of the Cutie Mark Crusaders (Sweetie Belle (Creber), Apple Bloom, and Scootaloo). That's why he knew her from that young age, because his job provided him the opportunity to engage with those teenagers—to a professional limit, but he took it further than that with at least 2 of them." (d_shadowspectre3, who misidentified Creber - Creber voiced Apple Bloom, and Corlett voiced Sweetie Belle)

An informational Twitter thread from 2023 by BronyFandont discussing the grooming with more screencapped evidence.

A google doc of various screenshots, including a first-person witness to Gabriel's inappropriate behavior at a Brony con.

A Twitter thread with eight screencaps debunking the timeline Blackgryph0n tries to lie about, claiming he only met Corlett for extended periods when she was 20.

A Twitter thread by user Wootmaster discussing the allegations back in 2022, in which he adds that several big fandom names - including Saberspark, ACRacebeast and PaleoSteno - closed ranks and defended Blackgryph0n at the time, including leveling harassment at Corlett's father. Saberspark coined the deeply unsettling "It's creepy, but legal" in regards to the situation.

Some of Gabriel Brown's previous brushes with racism also came into discussion, including

A full blown minstrel skit with Michelle Creber (a minor at the time) with giant afro wigs, blaccents, and the fake names "Nikisha Abagale Safron" and "Latoya Aloofa Williamson", posted by ACRacebeast under the title "Bronies React: MLP Generation 3."

Another Twitter thread with screencaps of Gabriel Brown's racism by Helluvareceipts.

Screencaps of the BillieBustUp discord, with clumsy defenses by Katie Nelson in lieu of any official statement.

More of Gabriel's racist and C*vid-denial tweet "likes" have been dug up.

A deleted racist tweet from Blackgryph0n.

A Twitter screencap of Blackgryph0n getting banned from Babscon due to racism in 2021.

During the uproar, BillieBustUp and lead dev Katie Nelson remained notably silent, which resulted in a Tweet about the game's LGBTQIA representation devolving into repeated demands for answers, which were also ignored.

There was an unofficial statement made only on the BillieBustUp Discord group on June 15th, but it wouldn't be until June 17 that an official "rebuttal" was posted on Google Docs by "Katie and Ash". The entirety of the rebuttal can be summed up with 'Blackgryph0n says he's being targeted by sockpuppet accounts and promises he's innocent, and I believe him.'

June 17 also saw a very strange, inappropriate, and immature response from Michelle Creber, peppered with "Y'all"s, emojis, and inappropriately casual slang like "take the L," considering the seriousness of the allegations. She not only stated that Gabriel Brown (a member of the US Navy) is an "incredibly brilliant but brilliant autistic bean" and thus so harmless he wouldn't hurt a spider, which errs so far on the side of infantilization it seems insulting at best, and ableist at worst. Any Twitter accounts that requested clarification or answers were blocked by both Creber and Brown.

What does this mean for you?

What this means is that the BillieBustUp and Hazbin Hotel fandoms now have to contend with the fact that their creators have knowingly and purposefully invited a child groomer into their fandoms, and given them social cachet that they might use to take advantage of minors, as he did during his job as a sound engineer on My Little Pony. The BBU dev team is also ignoring any concerns about a potential threat. This may also mean that, if there are inevitable fandom events like panels, the child groomer Gabriel C. Brown may be present where there are also children and teens, who may not be aware of his history.

The decision of whether to boycott or not is your decision; I cannot in good conscience spend money on a game that will put money into a groomer's pockets and add to his resume. The decision is yours. This post is to shine light onto what the BillieBustUp team and Blackgryph0n/Gabriel Brown desperately want to keep in the dark, and to spread awareness to other social media platforms. And, most importantly, to protect any minors who might be in these fandoms, who may not realize that their idols are not someone they should look up to, defend, or even be in private contact with.

Stay safe, and thank you for reading.

#billiebustup #billie bust up #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #blackgryph0n #my little pony #gabriel c brown #video games #indie video games #katie nelson #katieblueprint

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valentine-cafe · 9 days

Note

May I have some churros and egg tarts, please!!

[Afab reader]

Just thinking about Jingyi coming home to Alessio fucking you stupid!!:( With his hand effectively pushing your chest and face smooshed into the couch and your ass up in the air. Alessio just can't seem to get enough of you, of your wines and cries and barely their words of you begging for papi to give you a break!! He'd tell you to speak up and only smart girls get what they want!! Couldn't stop watching the way you tremble, the way your rear slaps back against his pelvis and the way your cunny keeps swallowing his cock!!:(( He'd hear the familiar jingle of keys and the unlocking door before you. His husband, walking in on the two of you, could feel the wave of excitement coursing through him!! And you'll hear his voice speak up.

"Oh, so this must be why no one was answering me~" that's when you realize Jingyi is home. You'll pathetically cry out for him, too fucked out to make out words. Jingyi will saunter over and give his overly confident husband a deep kiss while giving you a pat on the head!!:( You'll whine out at how aroused Alessio sounded asking if Jingyi was going to have a turn. But ofc Jingyi will want more than a turn, he wants to see you cry and squirt all over him. He wants to spank you so hard that it'll hurt to sit. He wants to see you choke, whether it's with his tail or his hand, he wants to see the loopy look on your face when he squeezes the sides of your throat. He wants to claim you as his by sinking his nails and teeth into your precious skin. He wants to put you into every position imaginable while you take his cocks. And Alessio would love to watch.

-🍄

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ verse 1311 alessio & jìngyí

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍮 ꒱ rockstar x reader, enigma x reader, villain x reader, mercenary x reader, villain x reader naga x reader, grim reaper x reader, mechanist x reader, cw: rough sex, choking, overstimulation ꒱

oh and did alessio love watching each and every moment of it. jìngyí’s tali snaked around your throat. his body twisting and turning while his two pulsing dicks fuck into you frantically.

one cock pumps and squirts with seed into your greedy cunt, which swallows it all. and with the heaps of load that shoots into you, a small knot has begun to form. the bulge in your tummy no longer being his cock ramming into you.

while the other, takes your ass. slapping against the plush skin, while sending pangs of pleasure through his stomach and looping it up into his brain every time he feels the clench of your tight hole against him.

“take it, — c’mon baby, stop whining s’much you wanted it so bad didn’t you? s- fngh— saw the way you looked at me when I came in” jìngyí would pant, squeezing at your throat with his hand, switching places with the tail.

a deep, raspy groan reverberate off of the the walls when his milky white eyes catch sight of your tongue sticking out of your mouth. saliva dripping off of it each time he squeezes his hand down on your throat and watches the way you squirm and squirt.

“jìng— j— jìn— nhg— m—mah-hhangh”

“reduced to— fuck — spluttering, what a beautiful sight.” he chuckles, gulping down the lump of excitement that had built in his throat.

his cocks pulling out of you before his tail wraps around you and pulls you into a mating press. tail tip swirling around your clit.

all the while, alessio dies a bit each time he has an orgasm. hearing your cries and moans. hand pumping agressively at his throbbing cock that stubbornly stay stiff and hard.

your voice was a symphony to him. each choke, moan, scream of pleasure, whimper and whine. he could put them all into a song and it’d be one of his best pieces yet.

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soleilnomoon · 1 year

Note

hey miss kaia 😼 I wasn’t sure if I should message you or send it this way butttt I’d love a strawberry-mango mai tai (crocodile or shanks) w/ songs 12, 15, and 23 from the playlist 👩🏾‍💻

hiiiii bb 🥰️ ty for requesting! i am so so sorry this took so long, but it’s here at last. also this was my first time writing crocodile, so i was v excited and wrote more than necessary but lbr i’m a long-winded mfer ok, that’s just how it is there’s no cure unfortunately; anyway i like how it turned out and if i kept writing we’d be here forever ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡

2.1k words (don’t look at me), fem reader, nsfw, 18+ mdni; fluff if you count him not choking her as fluff & smut (and angst that u didn’t ask for but i gave it to u bc i’m unwell like that 😊; feat. post-time skip crocodile in denial (he’s king of it clearly), reader who is (rightfully) in her feelings abt everything, smoking, established relationship, exes 2 lovers bc that’s my jam, a lil bit of miscommunication, crocodile is bad at emotions and reader is too emotional — they’re perfect for each other obvy — rough sex, is it considered knife play if he has a hook (asking 4 a friend), a lot of kissing (hello romance), probably other stuff but idr. crocodile comes w. his own damn warning tbqh. reader sippin that clown girl juice like a champ, i’m proud <3

(if u see spelling/grammar mistakes no u didn’t 💕)

it’s late at night when he arrives at your doorstep; you’re in the middle of flipping through a magazine, the ceiling fan silent and slow, the heat a little more than tolerable as you sip a cool drink. you have no intention of entertaining anyone, but when you recognize the heaviness behind the loud knocks, you make an exception.

of course, you do, there’s no other choice but to do so.

sir crocodile is a man that takes, and takes, and takes without remorse; there’s an insatiable greed — hunger, rather — that he can’t seem to satisfy. or maybe it’s that he’s been denying himself for years and it’s finally become too much for him. a small, quiet buzz infiltrates your body when you yank open the door. you half expect to find someone else there, so you stare openly, disbelief and shock holding you in place.

he peers down at you when you stand there and don’t bother to invite him inside. he knows his presence is probably more than you can handle, but he’s a selfish man and his time is very limited right now. with a subtle nod of his head, almost as if he’s telling — no, commanding — you to let him in; he’s always been like that, wordless commands that he expects to be followed without question.

if you had more sense, you’d slam the door in his face. but sadly, you don’t.

you try not to appear too affected, but as crocodile walks inside, dark eyes taking a sweeping glance around your modest living space, you suddenly remember how to speak.

“h-how did you find me?” your voice is much too soft and timid, something he clicks his tongue at, annoyance slightly bubbling underneath his skin. maybe it’s because he hasn’t seen you in so long, or maybe it’s because he’s much too taken by your beauty — something he tried to forget but was wholly unsuccessful.

he doesn’t spare you another glance as he hangs up his coat, doesn’t bother asking for permission before he rummages through the cabinets in your kitchen to pour himself a drink, and doesn’t think anything of his overly familiar actions in a home that doesn’t belong to him when he makes himself comfortable on one of the plush armchairs in the living room.

you scurry after him, steps soft and hurried, the smoke from his cigar wafting towards you the closer you get. he tilts his head back and exhales deeply, eyes closed as he blows smoke above him — a heady, intoxicating scent that triggers memories of the nights you spent with him before.

not that it matters, but crocodile’s nerves got the best of him before he arrived; he hasn’t seen you in two and a half years, and he always wondered if someone finally snatched you up. he told himself, a long time ago, that he would wreck whatever relationship you found yourself in anyway, but the uncertainty still lingered.

do you still care for him like you claimed you always would?

it’s a question he refuses to ask you because he’s convinced that the answer will ruin his plans no matter what your response is.

when you finally snap out of that momentary stupor, you stand in front of him, eyes glossy, as if you’re holding back years’ worth of tears. but somehow, you both fall back into the same routine you swore you’d never go back to — you straddle his lap, shorts riding up your plush thighs, his golden hook cold as he uses it to lift your chin up.

you remind yourself to keep focused, to not fall for his charm again. you don’t tell him that you’ve stayed single this whole time, mostly because everyone who came into your life after him didn’t compare.

“i hate the smell of smoke,” you declare boldly, voice strained, and maybe a little needy — even though you closely press yourself to him, even though you’re shamelessly rubbing yourself against him with slow, deliberate rolls of your hips. an inescapable, irritating heat passes through him, threatening to burn him alive; already his cock gets stiff when you move on him like that. if he had a bit more sense in him, he’d just leave right now.

but old habits die hard, and for some reason, your presence alone throws him off completely.

in a good way. even though he claims otherwise.

he reminds himself that he’s only here to talk as he runs his large hand along your thigh, admiring the smoothness of your skin — the sensation oddly calming to him. the feel of his rings along the back of your thigh triggers a vivid memory that makes you inhale sharply — you remember that the last time you saw him, you were on your knees and gagging on his cock. that night he fucked you like he knew he’d never see you again; you remember how you felt like melting into him every time he buried his cock deeply in your cunt.

you want to hate him all over and never think about him again.

except you can’t, can you?

there’s a brief pause before he takes another drag from his cigar; and when he lets the silence hang for longer than necessary, you find it hard to breathe.

“and i hate liars,” crocodile says finally, conveniently forgetting that he’s a notorious liar himself. you blush and turn your face at the hidden meaning behind his words — a poor attempt to deny it — but when you look back at him, he blows smoke above your head and fixes you with a pointed look.

an absurd thought occurs, making you curl your fingers as you tug on his shirt and finally question his reappearance. jealousy coils itself tightly around your legs, making your movements sluggish and ineffective. unbecoming, utterly childish, and unavoidable — but you know he won’t listen to that sort of rhetoric. not after being away from you for so long.

you lick your lips and muster enough courage to say, “i wrote to you.” several times, in fact. you figured he was either dead or didn’t want to speak to you. a part of him wants to ask if you’re serious, but from your demure demeanor, he already knows the answer.

crocodile lets out a humorless, pitying laugh.

“it must be nice to live in delusion,” he says bitterly. you look at him, confusion evident in the way you press your lips together as your brows slope down slowly — so he just sighs, defeated by your genuine naivety that he finds terribly charming. when he drags the curve of his golden hook along your jaw, your starts beating faster than necessary, the noise so loud you can barely think straight.

he knows that when he talks to you, he has to… mind how he phrases things, and while it annoys him, he does it anyway. “do you think impel down just allows former warlords the luxury of personal mail?” it’s a rhetorical question, but you shake your head no anyway, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you grab onto his shirt again.

guilt has a nasty habit of making him more considerate than he’d care to be, especially if that guilt comes from you. it has him putting out his cigar and tossing it onto the floor; he’s not sure who kisses who first, but his lips slant against yours and move with familiarity.

your soft whimpers are a honeyed, melodic experience; they wrap around him possessively, driving him to tear through your clothes with his hook, shredding the fabric into large, unusable pieces that languidly slide off your body. a flush settles on your skin, making you feel lightheaded — each kiss more electrifying than the last as he licks inside of your mouth, tongue stroking against yours hotly.

crocodile pulls away suddenly, already feeling like the control he’s kept is practically nonexistent because your mouth is much sweeter than he remembers. your fingers tremble slightly and a breathy moan tumbles out of you when he slaps your ass hard.

the impact is a surprise — one that has you whine pitifully, arousal dripping from your slit in a way that should be embarrassing, but you’re too far gone to care. a lust-induced haze circles around him, nearly clouding his vision as you unbutton his shirt, fingers roaming against his stomach, exploring the dips and grooves between his abs. your touch is much too gentle for a man like him; he knows you deserve better, but he’s too selfish to tell you that. his cock is stiff and heavy in his pants; you relieve that ache as soon as you tug his zipper down and wrap your soft hands around him.

he watches you, amused at your focus and determination when you stroke him faster; and while he’d like to take his time with you, he doesn’t have that luxury tonight. he grabs onto your wrist, halting your movements quickly before biting your lower lip and kissing you greedily; it’s all-consuming, scalding, and possessive.

you should ask him why he’s kissing you like that when he has no intention of staying, but you know it would be an unfair question given his circumstances.

still, your curiosity eats you alive, although not for long.

he lifts you with ease and you sink down onto his thick cock, pussy tight and warm. part of what kept him sane while he was in prison was thinking of you and how much he missed being with you like this — another truth he refuses to reveal, deciding to suffer through the consequences of another failed confession on his part.

you scratch at the skin on the back of his neck the moment he bucks his hips against yours, burying most of his cock inside of you. his thrusts are quick and brutal; you do your best to match his movements, moaning loudly as he wraps an arm around you. he kisses down the length of your neck, teeth grazing your skin roughly as he bites and sucks on your skin harshly. you know there’ll be bruises and marks in the morning, but you don’t care.

all you care about is enjoying this moment with him, one that you’ll commit to memory forever.

his name comes out of your mouth sweetly, like a rhythmic and lyrical poem you crafted for him specifically. he shouldn’t care about any of that, but he can’t stop himself; and maybe he’s just tired of denying it. he tells himself that when he fucks you harder, breasts bouncing and rubbing against his hard chest; he tells himself that when he angles his hips, thrusts frenzied and powerful.

sweat glides down your skin and the heat threatens to suffocate you, both of you are panting and moaning in between kisses. you doubt your poor little heart can take much more of this, but you power through anyway. and maybe it’s because you’re tugging on his hair roughly, almost impatiently, but he takes that as a challenge, holding you steady as his cock bullies into your wet cunt. between the lewd, squelching sounds coming from your pussy and the way he simply can’t stop kissing you — like there’s a thirst he can’t seem to quench, no matter how many times he fucks you — a warmth spreads through your chest.

unbeknownst to you, though, he’s going through something similar; he realizes, belatedly, that he might not be able to let you go after this. impossible thoughts pummel through his mind, ones that he desperately tries to shove aside. intimacy and vulnerability are deadly, in his opinion, but he decides to make an exception for you — and only you.

you cum unexpectedly, hips bucking against his wildly, pussy clenching around his thick girth without remorse. you actually feel your heart skip a beat, like you’re in some romance novel, when he calls out your name — his own orgasm finding him shortly after, thrusts slowing, his cum thick and hot as it spills inside of you.

your legs turn to jelly, making it impossible to move right away, so you slump against him weakly and take deep breaths to calm yourself. he closes his eyes briefly and runs his hand up and down your back; here’s another opportune moment to say something, to say anything, but he swallows back the words, instead opting to kiss your forehead softly.

“you’re an impossible man,” you say with a sigh, blinking as you look up at him; he raises a brow at that, but doesn’t offer a rebuttal. “don’t break my heart.” you jab a finger at his chest, but your features soften when he chuckles at your demand.

another long silence follows, before crocodile speaks again, voice low, but certain as he says, “alright, i won’t.”

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cmdrfupa · 18 days

Text

Chihiro

2nd installment of Upheaval.

cw: all chapters and content warnings are listed in this post but this chapter contains smut near the end. Grandma's first nastee writing in a decade heh.

an: firstly, thank you for being so nice to me 😭 I expect nothing but you all seem to find a way to make me feel like I’m good at this and I appreciate it more than you know. I tried not to make this a yep fest and therefore at least 2 more chapters will happen so yay!

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy! ✨✨

August 6, 2021

No longer being led by liquid courage, but by the sheer need to be your doting husband once again, Kento took initiative and scheduled the next counseling session. On appointment day, he picked you up early, ensuring he had an hour to calm his nerves and spirit during the drive.

The idea of reconciling felt surreal once he learned how close you were to being done with this marriage.

"She has the papers drawn up and waiting to have you served. So figure out how to stop her from giving them to you, Nanamin! Simple." His voice of reason was the sound of Gojo telling him that you had already drawn up divorce papers.

From what he was told, you were asking for very little if you both let it go through. Willing to leave him the home you bought together only wanting to keep the Nanami name and split all investments you'd made while married. Fair even when your heart was being broken into pieces. Perhaps he didn't deserve you.

So step one was easy: Stop you from handing those papers to him. And that started here.

Ootaishi Niko: Would be special grade sorcerer and revered therapist across the southern prefectures.

Currently not one of Kentos' favorite people.

"I'm glad the first two sessions didn't scare you off. Make yourself comfortable." Kento sat in the middle of the couch, his thigh lightly grazing yours as he crossed his legs. He noticed you sat close to him, and he didn't move.

Heavy air filled the room as the sound of the central unit whirred to life, gusting a light chill through the air.

Uneasy anticipation sat in the wings of the brightly lit space.

The chenille-upholstered couch tugged at Kento as he sat back, placing the pillow between you both.

"We apologize for ghosting. After the two sessions, we didn't know—"

"If it was worth returning once they moved out of our shared home," Kento cut in before you could finish.

He noticed your leg bouncing; he fixated on the box of tissues in front of him. "I apologize. That was unnecessary."

"It's fine."

Ootaishi noticed the small interaction but said nothing. Instead, she lowered the window covering that faced the couch and sat across from you in a single chair.

"I am, as you know, dedicated to healing relationships, revealing the truth, and finding solutions. By entering my office, you consented to my domain. You could try to bypass my expansion, but it would do you more harm in the end."

She sat a small talisman on the table. The etchings glowed similarly to the Heian-era sigils you'd seen in your studies.

"With that said, you can leave anytime, as this is a barrierless realm. If you exit without acknowledging it, it will cause 24 hours of what I call Toxic Empathy. Are we clear?"

"Yes," you both uttered in unison, consenting before sitting back on the couch.

"Splendid! Now, please close your eyes so we can begin."

Kento followed your lead, closing his eyes once he saw you settle. You took shallow breaths to center yourself.

In a low tone, Ooitaishi spoke, "Memory Alpha."

There was a noticeable shift in the room. Temperature dropped by at least 15 degrees as a chill swept on the nape of his neck. Mumbles of small talk surrounded him as the familiar scent of overly artificial strawberry and bramble room deodorizer filled his nostrils with an unpleasant sting.

Nearby speaker hummed a song that felt like a distant memory: ‘Daremo Shiranai’ by Arashi.

"Gojo's?" Kento's eyes opened, and there it was: Gojo's apartment. Ambient lighting lined the spacious loft walls that were never really lived in but used occasionally for events like birthdays, meetings after official meetings, and that night's game festivities.

Kento looked around the room, fully accepting that the office had been transformed into some type of memory bank. His memory bank.

"So, Kento. It seems you're first up. Do you mind telling me why we're here?" Ootaishi smiled, sipping the cold lager beer that appeared on the side table next to her.

"Ken." You knew exactly where you were.

Clearing his throat, Kento perched himself on the edge of the couch as he saw his younger variant walk through the front door. "The night Shoko introduced us. When we first met."

November 15, 2014

"Nanamin!" Gojo leaped with a smile, waving him down from the crowded corner of people playing Jenga.

Waving back in hopes of not being bothered no more Kento considered himself saved as Shoko walked over. "Avoid eye contact. He's been drinking milk tea all day and won't shut up about beating you in Yahtzee. We've got more important things to do anyway." She brought her hand to Nanamis's shoulder, chauffeuring him to where you sat near the open balcony doors.

There you were, leg shaking as you looked out the nearby window before noticing the approaching duo. "She's like me. But probably with a little more patience. The perfect match, really." He was working with nothing other than you had the patience of a saint and apparently were able to get Shoko to stop smoking.

And while he wasn't a superficial nor religious man, he thanked every God above and below that you were also beautiful.

Your cashmere sweater fit you perfectly as you stood up to greet him.

"I'm back, and here's the friend I mentioned. This is Nanami." Shoko gave a look of approval as she gave Kento a slight nudge.

"Hey! It's a pleasure." He took your outstretched hand and firmly shook it.

"Nanami Kento. It's great to meet you. Shoko has told me nothing about you."

Your warm laugh sent a surge of serotonin through his chest.

"Seems she's great at keeping her lips shut." You sat back down, offering the chair next to you. "But it does give us plenty to talk about and get acquainted better."

Nanami slid his coat off, smiling as he hung it on the back of the chair and sat beside you.

"Of course. Like how that sweater you're wearing is lovely. Cashmere?"

"Yeah! I bought it while I was out in Scotland over the summer. Thank you. Big fan of fashion?" You questioned while grabbing the beer bottle from the table.

He grabbed the drink Shoko had set down for him while she observed you interacting as if it were a chaperoned date. "Not necessarily. I just prefer to buy for long-term use."

"Same! I'd rather spend the large amount on quality that'll last years than something I'll need to replace by the end of the season." A sip from the apple-flavored IPA soothed your throat before you continued. "Like, it's money, and I hate to be an incessant contributor to capitalism, so I want to at least be wise about where my money goes, yanno? Less consuming, more investing in things that can be seen as sustainable. Even if it's clothing, I suppose."

Sensible, financially aware, hates capitalism, knew to buy a cashmere sweater in Scotland.

'Let's hold off on the pedestal.' Kento internally tried his best to ignore the immediate fluttering of his heart as you spoke. 'Perfect match.'

Four hours. Kento sat in that uncomfortable chair talking with you about everything he could for four hours, from learning about your love of music theory and literature to your time in med school with Shoko. He told you about his passion for research, travel, advocacy, and the arts. Your shared love of cooking somehow brought you to discussing family lineage.

"So a distant relative to the woman who was the unfortunate victim of Noritoshi Kamo. That dates back to the-"

"Meiji period. It's an incredibly long story, but my father tried to keep up with that part of my family history for a long time."

"Do you keep in touch with the Kamo clan?"

Shaking your head confidently, you responded, "They try to reach out to me, but I'd rather not be associated for the time being. Bit of a weird conversation to have."

Kento noticed your slight disconnect from this part of the conversation, watching your eyes migrate to fixating on your bottle once you mentioned their recent attempt. Choosing not to pursue it any further, he instead focused on your features as the low lighting seemed to glow around you.

Kento felt a hint of glee for the first time in a long time. He realized you'd noticed him taking you in, and the corners of your mouth lifted.

"Shoko tells me you'll be joining us at Jujutsu High. She said you left the sorcery world but came back! You excited?"

"You'll also be there?" Kento lifted his brow, not realizing you'd actually be around him more than he expected.

"Oh, yes! It isn't a significant role, though. I'm a consultant and teaching some history courses. And will do field work when needed."

"History?"

"Cursed energy and ancient techniques. Pushed hard for it to be a class for all 2nd years." Were you really telling him that you had a history course on curses?

"I'll have to sit in on one of your classes then. Sounds like I could learn a lot from you."

The sound of Gojo imitating another party guest echoed across the room, making you cringe with a laugh as Kento shook his head with a plastered smile. "I have to admit, I was a little hesitant on this whole blind date idea."

"Dating can be challenging as it is." Taking the last swig of your ale before idly playing with the bottle's rim, you continued, "Adding the shroud of mystery can make it almost unbearable. But Shoko did mention that you were my perfect match."

"Perfect match?"

"Don't tell me she was wrong, Nanami Kento." Dripping with flirtation, the tone in which you said his name turned his ears red-hot.

When he leaned into you, Kento smiled at your poor attempt to hide your sudden, bashful reaction. "I guess we'll only find out if I take you on a proper date on Sunday, perhaps?"

"Only if you promise to wear this tie again. I like how the pattern complements the chestnut flecks in your gorgeous eyes."

Marble. A marble pedestal. Engraved with your name across the front. One of the world's many wonders that now prominently sits in the forefront of Kento's mind for however long you allow.

"I'll let you dress me. How does that sound?"

July 3, 2015

"Surprise!" You cheesed until your cheeks ached as you stood in Kento's dim living room. The sparkler candles sitting atop the chocolate croissant bread pudding you held acted as the secondary light source after the dimmed ceiling light as he walked toward you. "Happy birthday, Ken!"

Chuckling, Kento sat his briefcase on the couch, bewildered by your ambush. "Dove, what is this?"

"Oh!" Handing off the dish to Kento, you put a party blower to your mouth and blew into it with all your might. "A surprise!"

Kento savored a fleeting moment to take in the sight of his living room. Adorned with its usual neutral-toned furniture, it had been transformed by the addition of a striking balloon bouquet nestled in a corner. Glittery confetti scattered across the floor and coffee table, catching the radiant hues of the late sunset, while elegant streamers crisscrossed the ceiling, adding an extra layer of festivity. Coming back to you, his softened gaze met yours.

"As is tradition back at home, you now have to suffer through my rendition of 'Feliz En Tu Día.' Clearing your throat as you placed a party hat on Kento, you began to belt.

What was happening? Why was his pulse quickening as he watched you sing a song with everything in you? Why did he feel his body warm up from how you smiled waiting for him to make a wish for today and everyday after?

His wish was you. You today and everyday after.

Kento felt his heart pounding from how sweet you were to him. Effort that felt so genuine and done out of love, he was beginning to think he might have a stroke. "I—thank you." He blew out the candles with a quaint smile and set the bread pudding down before kissing you deeply. "You really did this for me when you didn't have to. I have a birthday every year."

"Listen, you only turn 25 once; you deserve to be celebrated on every birthday." You laid a warm kiss on his cheek and held him close. "I know Shoko's party on Saturday may not be your scene, so I wanted to do something intimate and special just for us."

Kento went in for another kiss, gentler this time. Your heated flesh invites the palms of his hands as they slide under your shirt, finding the soft flanks of your waist. It was the most courageous he'd felt as the fluttery feeling hit his chest. "I love you."

Seven months and two weeks ago. 230 days. Kento knew he’d fall in love with you the same night he met you when you decided that waiting until Sunday was too long to see him again. When he took you to his favorite izakaya and introduced you to the owners, who kept giving him the all-knowing "That's the one" look all night.

You sat close in his usual booth, telling him everything else that wasn't shared at the party. The same booth where you couldn't help but notice the overwhelming grief in his posture as he confided his reasons for why he had left the sorcery world once before. In those suffocating moments, you became his solace, reminding him to just breathe. You became his reason to stay, his undying love.

"You love me?"

"I love you."

Your pupils dilated while your stomach filled with butterflies. "I love you, Kento."

When you returned his feelings itf felt like he was experiencing everything for the first time. He felt more alive than ever. Every interaction led to the heart-thumping experience of your love. The sheer intensity of each emotion made it a time of joy and anxiety as the fear of losing this feeling became just as strong as the love itself.

Kento's actions from this point forward were to be charged with meaning. His heart, which had been in darkness for years, was now in your hands.

"Memory Alpha 2.33."

The distant memory of the dim living room shut into itself as Kento reawakened in the office. He immediately looked over to you, your eyes still closed, but tears stricken down your cheeks as if you'd been crying.

"Dove, you okay?" Anxiety coated his tone as you appeared to still be under the effects of the domain.

"She will come to in a moment, Nanami. I want to take this time to talk to just you."

Kento wasn't sure how therapy was supposed to go, but this seemed far from the usual protocol. He glanced back over at you.

"I promise you, she's safe," Ootaishi assured Kento, sharing a quick glance at your current state of mind to calm his anxieties. You were sitting beachside at sunset, engrossed in yet another article on creating the perfect greenhouse all year round. A beach chair was set beside yours, and his worn copy of "Antic Hay" awaited him.

A wistful smile graced his face. "Thank you."

"You care very deeply for her."

Kento kept his eyes on you for a moment longer, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest, the way your mouth seemed to twitch into a smile. "She's my life."

"And so you choose to push your life away."

Kento's neck joints cracked as he turned back to face the therapist. "Excuse me?"

Ootaishi wrote something in her journal as Kento mentally torched a hole through her chest. "Your wife. You call her your life, yet we are here because your life is tired of being pushed away."

There goes his ring, feeling too small again.

"I'm not pushing her away."

"Then my apologies for assuming. What would you call what you're doing, Nanami?"

"I feel like we've reached a standstill in our marriage," he said, twisting the wedding band around his finger. The pinching sensation distracted from the undeniable truth of his feelings. “We've grown but in different directions. It's impacting our daily lives."

Ootaishi glanced at the talisman, the etchings now glowing a dull red. "It seems someone forgot about our honesty policy, Nanami."

A huff strong enough to blow off a roof exited Kentos' nose before dragging his hands down his face.

"It's clear that you are not ready to get to the real root of your problem, and that's okay. Healing is never linear, nor is it quick." Ootaishi took a few more notes and smiled before closing the journal. "But just for future reference, I prefer the method of you being honest with me, as I hate forcing myself into your psyche for the answer I need to resolve issues.”

Kento's jaw clenched as he sat up fully. There was a small, dare he say minuscule part of him that wished he could've just fessed up to why he was being a pussy. The chance was there; if nothing else, he appreciated how forward Ootaishi was to get him there.

But he wasn't ready to face the demons he knew needed to be slain before it was too late.

"Can you not mention this to her? It's not that I'm trying to keep anything from her—"

"You have my word, Nanami." She sat on the edge of her chair and looked over at you. "If you're ready, I can wake them up."

With a nod, Ootaishi intonated, 'Memory Alpha; end sequence,' and Kento watched closely as you slowly roused yourself.

"Welcome back." Ootaishi opened the curtains halfway and gave a warm, almost motherly smile as she looked at Kento and then at you. "Take some time to get adjusted to the room, and then we will end today's session."

"Thank you again for being so open to going back."

"I'm glad we did. It was better than I thought it would be. It was far more invasive than I realized." He crinkled his nose as he recalled the all-too-intrusive experience.

You both shared a chuckle as Kento walked you to the door.

"Yeah, it's a bit intense. But I've only heard of great results from Ootaishi, so I'll allow the invasion."

There was a lighter air between you as you neared the threshold.

"Did you want to come in for lunch? I've been marinating some eggplant in red curry. There's more than enough."

"Is that a good idea? I should give you some time to sort through today's session."

Eyes fluttered quickly as you were taken aback by the sudden compliance from Kento. "Is Nanami Kento actually taking the therapist's suggestions seriously?" It was apparent how impressed you were.

With a light chuckle, Kento shrugged as he looked at you. "I just want to show you how serious I am about everything. You deserve time to process today just like I do. But we can grab lunch soon."

"Lunch. Just tell me when."

"Absolutely."

The two of you stood together in the luminous hallway, the air heavy with unspoken words. The silence that enveloped you was strangely comforting. The faint sound of footsteps approaching the elevator shattered the peacefulness, jolting you both back to the present moment.

"I should get going, but let me know how the eggplant turns out. Tell both Shoko and Utahime I said hello."

"Will do. Let me know when you've made it home safely."

His hesitancy showed in the two steps he took towards you. Opting out of embracing you and instead kissing the top of your head and inhaling your scent.

"See you later, dove.”

“See you Monday, Ken.”

As the sun slips below the horizon, the golden light of the setting sun fades, leaving only the pale moonlight to illuminate the evening. In the silence of the late evening, Nanami sat in his den, deep in thought, attention focused on the quiet contemplation's of his mind. You.

The sound of his breathing was the only sound in the room, punctuated by the occasional rustling of pages as he fidgeted with the corners of his book.

The soft beams of moonlight cast shadows on the floor, the trees standing guard like looming sentinels against the glossy wood.

“I don’t even know what the fuck I’m reading.” A deep, dispirited sigh left his lips as he read the same sentence for the eighth time. Mentally worn, Kento sat the book on the table and fell back in his chair, slouching as he closed his eyes to gather a bit of energy to get to bed.

“Come to bed, Ken. Your pillow is a real shit replacement for your chest.”

Hearing your voice in his head, he smiled as if you were in the room with him. Your low, sweet-as-saccharin voice filled his mind as he replayed your sweet sentiments to himself like he did every other night since splitting. Toying with the waistband until he was tired of trying to play coy with himself, he rubbed his growing erection through his pajamas.

“God.” His lips parted, sucking in a small breath as he thought of your scent. Your hand on his chest as he inhaled you that afternoon.

He freed his thick member, looking at a drip of precum before smearing it with his thumb.

“Tell me how you want me, Kento.”

His left hand gently massaged his balls while squeezing the head of his cock as your voice led him to stroke himself.

Slow strokes to copy how you pleasure him had his eyes rolling back as he envisioned your lips pressed against his neck. Your warm breath sending electricity down his spine, your slick cunt resting on his aching balls as you stroked him from above. “Faster. Please.”

His steady rhythm quickened, a long tug before he slid his hand up and down his length faster, the wet sounds of his slick shaft competing with the lewd moans that fell from his parted lips. You. The way you whimpered his name when his thumb rubbed over your clit. Your eyes full of hunger when he would only let the tip of his thick cock poke and prod at your eager, fluttering cunt. “Is this what you want, dove?” fucking every inch into his hand with brute force as if were your wetness.

“Not yet… fuck.” Kento slowed down, lightly tugging his taut balls from his form to stop himself from releasing.

Painstakingly slow, he watched his reddened cock head swell as his grasp tightened, sliding up and down his shaft again. He watched the way the veins in his right hand were accentuated with each squeeze of his cock. Recalling how his hands looked cradling your face as your nose met his pubic hair, taking every inch of him to send him into a crying mess.

Hair stuck to his forehead as his chest heaved, pumping quicker to satiate the flame that kept growing in his abs. Losing himself in the fierce desire for you. “Please let me cum, please. Please, dove.” Hips bucking at an unearthly pace with pathetic pants of desperation echoing as he felt his release hit its peak before he pulled his hands away.

He knows he won’t finish. He can’t finish. He watched his cock bounce and flinch freely while the sweat on his brow cooled him. A huff of frustration brought him back fully as he tucked himself back into his pants, trekking to the bedroom in silence.

You’d trained him to need you for that release. A cruel feat that he couldn’t even call a punishment because it was a self-inflicted disservice.

Settled into bed for the night, Kento checked his phone one more time. His lock screen lit up with the only photo Kento allowed to be taken right after his hospital stay post Shibuya. Your lips on his cheek as he gave the camera a shy smile, Gojo’s white hair peaking in from the bottom corner after a failed crop attempt.

Four months and a week: 128 days separated.

One day towards fixing what can be saved.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami smut #kento x reader #jjk x you #jjk au #jjk angst #jjk smut #lu.logs

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mangomonk · 1 year

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call me whenever

↳ summary: remus is a clingy lightweight ↳ content: fluff, mentions of alcohol, established relationship from i caught myself, rock band!muggle ↳ a/n: i love writing remus x winnie, i'll prob keep writing more oneshots of them out of order if y'all have any scenario requests!

"Merlin, why do Muggle contraptions always have so many bloody buttons—"

"Did you finish putting her number in? It's 34—"

"Hello?" Winnie asks uncertainly into the receiver.

A pause. And then an overly bright voice, shouting into the phone. "WINNIE! SWEETHEART, JUST THE PERSON I WAS LOOKING FOR!"

"Sirius, you don't have to shout, I can hear you perfectly fine," Winnie sighs, wincing away from the receiver.

"Oh, really?" Sirius sounds genuinely bemused.

Winnie hums. "Where are you calling me from? I don't recognize the number."

"One of those phone-telly boxes," Sirius says. Winnie has to bite her tongue to prevent herself from correcting him. "Anyways, we were— oof." His voice cuts off mid-sentence with a grunt. "I mean, I was wondering if you were home and free right now?"

Winnie hesitates warily. "I am both home and free."

"Brilliant," Sirius sighs. "Do you think you could come and pick up Remus? He's had one too many Firewhiskey's and he's always been such a lightweight—" His voice cuts out for a moment amidst a lot of shuffling. "—and I think he's one wrong look away from biting mine and James's head off— oof."

"Is he with you now? Can I talk to him?"

The shuffling stops abruptly. A pause, before Sirius speaks up again, his voice a little wheezy. "No, he's not out here. Or with me right now."

Winnie's brows shoot up. She bites back a small smile, now able to imagine the two of them squished in a little phone booth. "You guys are at the pub downtown, right?"

"That's the one."

"I'll be there in fifteen," Winnie says, already looking around for her keys.

"Brilliant, we'll— I'll see you then!"

Winnie is about to hang up when she can hear Sirius grumbling on the end of the line. Knowing him, Winnie bets that he left the payphone hanging. "I don't see why you couldn't just send her an owl."

Another voice, heart achingly familiar. "She's afraid of the owl's claws."

Sirius huffs. "You could've just called her yourself then."

"Didn't want to bother—" The line cuts out.

Winnie puts the phone down, smiling widely as she grabs her keys.

— — — — —

When Winnie enters the crowded pub, she spots him immediately. He's slouched on a barstool around a table, head resting in his hand and his long legs kicked out under him. Contrary to Sirius's description, he doesn't look like he's about to murder anyone. He's watching James waving his hands animatedly at Sirius, the corners of his lips twitching.

Winnie steps around the room, careful to hide from his view before she moves behind him. "Come here often?" She whispers into his ear, grinning already.

Remus straightens, his head whipping over to her with such speed that she's a little worried for his neck. Up close, Winnie can see that his cheeks are flushed a rosy pink so pretty that dimly, she wishes she was an artist so that she could capture this view of him. She thinks she could write a song about his pretty flush. "Winnie," he says, mouth curving into a smile, her favorite kind — white teeth flashing, dimples showing. Her heart is squeezing so painfully in her chest, but she's sure that Remus has no idea what he's doing. Remus has never been big on PDA, so Winnie's a little surprised when his big hands start reaching for her hands.

"Hi lover boy," she says, letting him pull her towards him.

"How was your rehearsal?" He's holding both of her hands now, his thumbs rubbing circles against her skin.

"It went well," she says, smiling. "Hi guys," Winnie says to the others.

"Hi darling," Sirius drawls, lips twitching behind the rim of his glass. "You came right on time — another minute and he would have had our heads." James snorts, nodding in agreement.

Remus ignores this, his brown eyes not leaving hers as his fingers reach the sleeve of her turtleneck. "Is this new? I like it," he says, smile turning dopey. "You look lovely, cariad."

Winnie's cheeks go pink, half because of how he's looking at her, pretty eyes soft with unabashed adoration and affection, half because she can see Sirius and James's mouths go slack.

"Merlin, you're in deep, Moony," Sirius exclaims.

Next to him, James makes a gagging sound. "Please spare us and take him home," he begs, but he's grinning. His grin falters when Remus turns to shoot him a withering glare.

"Right, I heard you were in need of a ride home," Winnie says, trying to keep a straight face when Remus turns back to look at her, his expression softened from his previous vitriol.

He's gone puppy-eyed, his eyes big and brown as they stare up at her hopefully. "Let's go home?"

Saying bye to the boys is quick work. Sirius is practically shoving them out of the pub with James making gagging sounds behind him.

As they walk to the parking lot, Remus's arm winds around her waist, his hands fiddling absentmindedly at the knitted material of her turtleneck. It feels as though ever since she's come, he hasn't stopped touching her — not that she minds, of course. When his fingers brush against her skin accidentally, it sends a shiver up her spine.

"Cold?" He asks, already stopping in his tracks to shrug off his jacket. Winnie doesn't bother saying no or pointing out that it's a warm night. Remus has always been endearingly bossy when he's sober — she can only imagine him now refusing to budge until she takes his jacket. Plus, she likes the smell of his jacket. And with the way he can never quite look away from her when she's wearing it or one of his lumpy jumpers, she reckons he gives them to her for his sake too. Remus drapes his jacket over her shoulders, his fingers tugging at the collar.

"Thank you," she says, smiling up at him fondly.

"Were you busy?" He's tugging her even closer now, his arms bracketing around her as he straightens the shoulders of his jacket.

"Never too busy for you," she says meaningfully, reaching up to fluff at his hair affectionately. Remus seems to melt into the action as she threads her fingers into his sun-kissed hair, his warm cheek settling against her palm. His eyes have gone sleepy and soft on her, his lip jutting out stubbornly. God. She wants to kiss him senseless. "You can call me whenever. Owl even, if it keeps its claws off my furniture."

Remus's brows knit together for a moment before his face falls. "You heard?" He asks, lips twitching into a deep frown.

Winnie laughs, squeezing at his cheek. "Sirius is not exactly subtle or good with Muggle technology."

"I didn't want to bother you," Remus admits, letting his head drop forward against her shoulder. He's really too tall for this, but somehow he manages to slouch enough so that he can rest his forehead against her shoulder. "But I wanted to see you."

His honesty makes her stomach do loops. "Yeah?" Winnie hums softly, impossibly endeared. She runs her thumb over his splay of freckles, faint now against the warm tan of his skin. "I always want to see you too, so call me whenever, okay?"

Remus's hands find their way to her waist. "Yeah, okay," he mumbles into her shoulder. He turns his head, his face pressing against her turtleneck. She can hear him inhale deeply. "I don't like this," he grumbles, one hand reaching up to tug gently at the high neck of her shirt.

Winnie blinks. "You just said you liked my shirt," she says accusingly, a little offended now.

"I did," he agrees solemnly, pulling back away from her just enough to look at her with big, sincere eyes. Saccharinely innocent. Then his eyes dart down to shoot her shirt a baleful look, his lips jutting out in the closest thing she's ever seen him get to a sulk. "But now it's in my way."

Winnie can feel her face flush, but she tries to hide it with an arched brow. It fails, clearly, because she can see the way Remus drinks in her flustered expression, his sulk disappearing immediately, lips hitching smugly. "Yeah? Well I guess you'll just have to deal with it because I like this shirt," She grumbles mulishly, pulling away in embarrassment but Remus gently grabs her hands again and sets them firmly on his shoulders. Winnie's stomach is doing flips now.

"I think I can find a way around it," Remus murmurs distractedly, nosing against her jaw and already hooking a finger into the neck of her turtleneck and tugging it down gently to reveal the nape of her neck.

Winnie can't help the happy sigh she breathes out when his lips ghost against her skin, his hair tickling her ear. He presses a firmer, open-mouthed kiss against her collarbone, his fingers still dipping into her shirt. His other hand rises to cradle the back of her head gently, his long fingers threading through her hair as he noses along the nape of her neck, lips soft and ticklish. "My heart," he mumbles against her skin fondly. Affection blooms in her so violently, all she can do is grasp at his shoulders. When she tilts her head back a little to give him more access, she can feel his lips curve into a smarmy smirk. The bastard. ""Shall we go home?"

— — — —

my masterlist!

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lanawinterscigarettes · 9 months

Text

this love came back to me (Wanda Maximoff x reader)

Description: several months after you and Wanda originally broke up, a chance encounter with her at the grocery store has all your old feelings rushing back to you and makes you wonder why you ended things in the first place

A/N: the idea for this fic came from one of the songs off of 1989 tv. I haven't written for anybody from the mcu (or in general) in so long omfg. Also Wanda's a super fucking hottie btw. but you guys already knew that

Warnings: exs to lovers (is that a thing? It is now), fluff, kind of hurt/comfort, mentions of mental health issues, mentions of insecurity/self depreciation, mentions of past heartbreak, happy ending (because y'all really deserve it)

The day began just like any other. You'd woken up to find you were on your last roll of toilet paper, you didn't have anymore hand soap, and you were running out of milk.

"Guess I'd better make a trip to the grocery store," you said to yourself while you slipped on your shoes and grabbed your keys.

You got there to find it practically empty, courtesy of making a trip that wasn't during the weekend, when it was slam packed.

As you browsed the aisles, you couldn't help but notice a young woman around your age shopping in the same area as you. While she looked awfully familiar, you decided to brush it off. It was most likely just your mind playing tricks on you, like it usually did.

However, when you saw her again a couple aisles down, you realized that maybe you did know her. You were sure you recognized her from somewhere, but where exactly was a difficult place to put your finger on.

It was when you finally were able to see her face that you recognized her to be Wanda, your ex girlfriend. She looked great, better than you remembered.

This made you self conscious and overly aware of the fact you were wearing a hoodie and sweatpants while she was all dolled up in her red blouse and dark blue skinny jeans, not to mention the makeup she had on her face.

It made you think about how whenever you needed to go shopping and she would offer to go with you, you'd have to wait at least thirty minutes for her to find a cute outfit and do her makeup (or at least put on some mascara and lip gloss, if you didn't have the time to wait for her) before she was ready to go.

It was quite endearing, now that you were thinking back on it, but you distinctively remembered back then how frustrated you would get, having to wait. It hurt your heart to think about how gorgeous she would look while all you could do was grumble about leaving later than you'd originally wanted.

Before you could think about whether or not approaching her would be a good idea, she looked your way, a warm smile gracing her features. God, she looked pretty than you remembered. "Hey, you." Wanda called out softly, a playful look in her eyes.

"Uh, hey." You responded with lamely, not really knowing what to think. Did she hate you now? I mean, the breakup hadn't gone poorly, and it was mutual, but you still couldn't help wondering what she thought of you.

"Long time, no see." She walked over to where you were standing, a grocery basket tucked under her arm. "I missed you."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. She missed you?

"Yeah, same." You inwardly cringe at just how uninterested you must sound, but then again, how could you express your feelings for her properly without her getting upset or wanting to leave?

"So, um..." You fidgeted, looking everywhere but her as you tried to pluck up the courage to ask that one simple question that could put you on a path back into her arms.

You decided to just bite the bullet and get on with it. After all, the worst she could do was say no. "Do you... do you wanna maybe get coffee later? Or something?"

Her face practically lit up with joy. "Sure, I'd love to," she cheerfully answered, a large smile encompassing the lower half of her face.

You tried not to seem too eager when you responded. "Great! I mean, good, that's good that you wanna do that with me."

Laughing, she slipped her hand into yours. "Just lemme pay for this real quick, then lunch is on me. We've got a lot of catching up to do."

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inbetweenknacksandnooks · 1 month

Text

Robin's SFW Alphabet :D!

(Template by @/the-coldest-goodbye. Found here)

SFW Alphabet Under the Cut!

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Robin is EXTREMELY affectionate! Physically she loves to hug, kiss, cuddle and just be with and lay with you. Obviously she tones it down A LOT in public, to the point that it doesn't seem like you two are dating at all (best not to start drama, or any scandalous rumors, especially before you two are at least engaged).

But she makes up for it in private!

One of her favorite ways of showing affection is when everything is all nice and calm on the couch, or bed, she'll look at you, and gets very rowdy, practically tackling you, she wraps her waist-wings around your body, then arms, and spins like a crocodile doing the death roll. She likely even gets you both onto the floor like this, and as a finisher, she kisses you deeply, and covers your head with her head-wings.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

She adores nuzzling into you as well!

You were likely a fan of hers that met-up with her at a fan-meetup, or post-concert. You very-easily poured out your heart and soul on how much her music helped you through tough times.

You comment on her videos. Simple things, how you relate to one of her new songs, she replies back to you. It starts small. Soon you become a familiar face amongst the crowd of people, and a very familiar account in her comments.

You probably ask for a simple way to message her first, bold on the outside, but far too worried on the inside, and it shows through the hot blush on your cheeks.

She thinks for a while. The internet is filled with creeps. The universe is filled with creeps. But... there's just as many, if not more, good people. You've spilled your heart out to her before, but despite that, you're not weird, or an overly-ecstatic fan. And honestly? She does want to know a little more about you.

You get info for her Alt Account (better to be on the safe side for both ways) and begin chatting.

You almost-always initiate talking on the phone, sharing pictures of your food, places or events you've gone to, cute animals. She answers and talks to you whenever she's free. Sure, the topic might have originally been about going to some rodeo, and simply asking if Robin has ever gone to one, but it somehow evolves into places that she wants to go, things she wants to do in life, and memorable past moments.

She's opening up to you!

You seem to be trustworthy.

Eventually you suggest going to some out-of-the-way once-a-year bar/karaoke event on this smalltime planet. Thankfully, her schedule for that specific day is free, you both have a wonderful time!

Afterwards she begins to talk sometimes about things that are stepping on her nerves, small, bite-sized bits of venting. Maybe they're about her brother inviting a pain-of-a-friend over for dinner, or annoyance at her not having as much free time. Thoughts about how she sometimes really just wants to quit having an agent, or people who are around to make her singing professional.

She prefers talking about this kind of stuff in person, mostly.

In turn, you offer her an ear to listen, assuring words spoken, and sometimes a lap to lay on.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

And she offers you the same in kind.

BIG cuddler. But you already know that.

So insteaaad...

C = Comfort (What makes them comfortable? How can one tell when they're feeling relaxed?)

Robin gets comfort from all manner of things. Affection, hearing songs, singing. She can get comfort from merely having you in the same room. You don't even need to be doing anything or saying anything, you could just be sleeping, drawing, or playing games on your phone, and the atmosphere will instantly feel light for her.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

She has a bit of a lazier look when she's all relaxed, and she tends to lean on things a lot, whether it be a sturdy couch, or a more questionably-sturdy you.

Robin. COMMITS. HARD.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

She wants to settle down with you EASY. In terms of house chores, she's... okay. She mostly just relied on butlers and chefs to clean and cook, but she doesn't want to have them around forever, and definitely doesn't want them when she's living with you! So she'll be improving on chores, though she'll definitely ask you to do some, too.

She's doing it in person, at a home dinner-date. She knows this will quite-possibly make it harder to break up with you, but she wants as little conflict as possible, and so does what she thinks will make you much less angry, or sad. So she butters you up with the best food she can think about making, and after the beginning but before the middle of the date, she goes quiet, not looking at you, and instead focusing on her plate.

Thoughts race through her mind... If I can stop one heart from breaking... That's cruelly ironic to her. Should she stop? She's thought about the words to break it off so many times... written it down... practiced it in her dressing room, bathroom, bedroom when the house was vacant with no one but her.

She's thought about it many times before. When did it all start? Not just the loneliness, but the dating. Why did it start?

She's certainly tried to communicate her feelings to you. Many times. But even now, she's not sure you understand. She's been trying to stick with you through thick and thin. Halovians are monogamous, like birds. And humans try their best to be. Is she a bad person if she breaks it off with someone who means so much to her?

It feels like hours have passed, but that's just the dissonance between her racing mind and heart, and the slow candleflame that flickers in the dining room.

She breathes in. Tells you how much she loves you, and how much she wants to stay together but... you two... just aren't right for each other.

Just like how a cat cannot live off of salad, she can't live with how little you seem to care about her feelings, or your relationship. How you barely reciprocate in these recent few years. She can't exist in a relationship where she needs tug and rip up the earth for blades of grass for love. And the worst part is that there's no explanation on your part for why you've thrown her in a dry lot.

She loves you. But she can't keep living like this.

Her face feels like the candle wax melting on the table due to flame that eats away to last ever longer. Dripping, burning hot and wet from the tears that stream down.

But Robin doesn't perceive any of it.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

The next day, there's only the faint scent of peppermint lingering around the deserted house you two shared.

As I mentioned earlier, Robin COMMITS. She doesn't commit with a snap of her fingers, though she wants to. But she knows that there's people in the universe that she shouldn't trust, or that aren't the best to commit to. So she commits sincerely, and slowly.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

You would need to spend 5-7 years with her as your girlfriend for her to marry. She would want to marry earlier, but things change, and people change, so she would much-rather be on the safe-side. Also, she's worried about causing drama if it gets out that you married, but later divorced.

Very gentle, and very caring. Though, looking into your eyes gives her the need to be rambunctious and TACKLE you!

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Emotionally, she's extremely caring! She doesn't tend to offer you possible solutions to problems, and instead will listen to you, and comfort you for as long as you want her to.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Haha. Yes. (I can't think of any other Hs for relationship stuff, I'll update it if I find/think of something >.<)

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

It takes a reasonable amount. Maybe about 2+ months into the relationship. She says it back with ease, but it takes a bit of a while for her to say it point-blank to you first.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

She doesn't get jealous. She trusts you immensely, especially if you're 3+ years into a relationship with her!

Her kisses can be insistent, and there can be a lot at once, but they're rarely ever rough. There's maybe a nibble or lick every now and again, but not much beyond that, since she doesn't do hickeys much.

Robin likes kissing you everywhere! Everywhere on your face, everywhere on your torso, and sometimes on your lower parts. The frequency of kisses usually depends on how much skin you show, since Robin prefers to kiss skin, not through clothes, liking the warmth from it.

She likes getting kissed on her face, but her little head winglets are very big sensitive zones, and easily make her flush red!

Right on her cheeks and under her eyes are good places to kiss, too. Your eyelashes tend to brush up against her face, making for a fluttery feeling!

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Her neck is a very, very important area to note! If you kiss her without warning, she'll freeze up like a suffocating animal. She prefers exclusively gentle kisses there due to bullet-hole trauma, so no hickeys are allowed! She'll loosen up after the first few seconds after kissing there, but still keep in mind to be careful.

She's pretty good around children (not much of a surprise there). She might smile every once-in-a-while at a child in passing, and she doesn't do babysitting, but that's about the extent of it.

She wouldn't mind if you wanted to have a child, but she would much prefer that you've both been married for two-or-more years before you try anything.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Likewise, she's perfectly fine not raising anything! Getting a kid is a big commitment, and she really just wants to take it slow.

She usually wakes up naturally anywhere from 4am-6am (her Halovian instincts be kicking in). She usually tries to cuddle and keep you sleeping for the next 15-30 minutes, the slowly guides your hand and body away from hers so that she may slip out and off of the bed unnoticed.

Rather than coffee, she either drinks cafinated tea that she makes herself, or doesn't drink anything at all and goes straight to making breakfast. You usually wake up pretty groggy, and when she notices you, she instantly gives a tight "I love you~ Wake up soon~!" kind-of hug.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

On workdays, she usually starts work around 9-12.

Robin rarely stays up past 9, or 10 pm. She always has a lot of things to do in the mornings, so she doesn't want to botch her schedule.

After 12-5, she'll get some relaxation time, which can be spent in a variety of different ways (it's also the time most-likely for dates). She might be practicing singing for her next liveshow, or be comfortable and lazy, taking 1-3-hour-long naps that start around 1-4. It's mostly just relaxing, and she wants you to be near her for most of it!

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Around 7, she'll take a shower that lasts around 15 minutes, or a bath that lasts for the next 30 minutes to hour. She has one of those boujee tub-showers that keep the water warm.

I covered this earlier in B. And I can't think of any alternative Os, sorry

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

.w.

Robin is a very patient individual! And she uses plenty of good communication, with "I" pronouns, and how stuff makes her feel.

During an argument, she'll do her best to stay cool-headed. If her calm were to break, then instead of getting angry, she would end up tearing up, and failure on you to calm down or comfort her would result in full-blown crying, which she tries to stay quiet during.

In terms of getting irritated, refusal or difficulty communicating on your side can result in her getting very peeved, to say the least.

You need space before you can talk about how you felt in the last disagreement and want to be in the guest room for a while. Perfectly fine! She's sure you just need to cool down a bit!

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

But if you continue with trying to avoid talking about it, that's when she can get very irritable and she starts pushing more.

She does her best to remember things, she might not remember everything you say in passing, but she has a greater ability to remember stuff if you have a story, or emotions attached to what you say.

For example, she might not find it easy to remember where you went to Highschool if you just namedrop it casually, but if you explain how/why you went to Highschool there, she has an easier job to remember it.

I imagine she has lil' notes in a tiny notepad or pocket-sized booklet that she writes in to remember the specifics.

She's very good with dates, remembering where to meet up, and what time, as well. She has a calendar to help her organize her events, knowing the deadlines for things and such, so as such she looks at, and uses it regularly.

Even if she didn't have that, though, she keeps times and dates for things involving you with in her head with extreme accuracy.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

She also remembers things more if you say them with a certain emphasis, or with certain inflections, since it's such a change from the more unvaried tones of her brother and the various agents or manager.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Likely the first date you went on as friends, during that one karaoke event. She opened up to you, and you stayed open to her. It was the first time she realized that she might actually really like you. Well, liked you enough to grow ever closer to you anyway.

Just because she doesn't get jealous very much, doesn't mean that she isn't protective of you. She prefers to solve things peacefully, and uses the POWER OF THE HARMONY to calm down someone or something. It starts by humming, then goes up.

In more urgent times (like someone actively trying to harm you in an alleyway, or something), she's NOT hesitating to stand up in front of you, and uses the POWER OF THE HARMONY to try to persuade the assailant to step aside. If that doesn't work, she probably does a bit of disorienting. She's not particularly strong, but self-defense classes taught her where to strike to unbalance others. Then she ties the person in your sweater, or coat, and calls it good.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Either way, after it's all said and done, she also calls for the authorities. She doesn't want to arrest someone, and would much prefer the Circle Justice method, or something similar, but isn't going to think about risking you for a split-second!

Pretty good effort, though she prefers for dates and stuff to be out of the public eye, so movie nights, home dinner-dates, picnics at a low-traffic park, stuff like that.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

She tries a lot, and wants to make everything as special to you, as you are to her.

Has issues with doing stuff in public, even post-marriage! She feels like she needs to restrain herself as best she can for the label and her career, but it also makes her feel guilty, since she wants to give you all of how she feels, ALL the time!

Also, it's difficult to get her to take care of herself. She understands that it's important, but it's difficult to think about what will help make her stress better.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

She's also a HUGE people-pleaser, so if you overstep her boundaries, sometimes she won't outright say it, as much as she tries to have good communication. It's like she becomes blind-sided in what you want, that she completely forgets how to gently tell you to take it slower, or to stop doing something.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Not all that much, but she does as much appearance care as she can doing simple things, like preening, exercising, washing her face and body, applying simple, but effective moisturizing creams, etc.

Mmmaaybee? I feel like if you two were to break it off, she'd be obviously sad, and it would take her A LOT to get over you.

But she needs to put on a brave face. Her job doesn't stop just because of a little heartbreak. People break up all the time. So she should just grit her teeth, smile for the cameras, and bear it.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

She absolutely DOES NOT write any sad break up songs. At most, she might listen to sad music every once in a while to cry to it, but is worried it'll get worse if she dwells on it.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Ahaha... this whole thing has been headcanon city! I'm not sure I could think of any unless I'm outright asked!

Does not like jealousy. She doesn't like being fought over. It makes her feel as if you don't trust her enough to be loyal, or like you think you need to prove yourself to her, which is just... not the case, or at least she feels like it isn't.

She probably would like that feeling of protection if you were to shoo away a fan, or a persistent person that won't listen when she says she has a girlfriend. But doing it too much, or getting protective over overeager fans, or people over your first proper meeting... isn't very good. She has enough protection in bodyguards and Sunday. She'll get you calm first, by holding your hand and rubbing one of the pressure points in your palms that helps to calm anxiety, and says that she feels safe by your side, so you don't need to overdo it (it's mostly just a roundabout way of trying to get you to calm down, but she will be more direct if you don't get it the first few times).

A big one (and what I based my whole E off of) is lack of communication, and reciprocation. I don't really need to repeat it, so you can just read it again instead :D

Honestly, just conflict in general, and drama, she doesn't really approve of. She's fine, and very understanding if you vent about your troubles, and you do the same to her, but directly getting involved in the drama or conflict with your family members, or friends is a no-go with her.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

During colder months, she 100% wraps her wings and legs around your body, and nuzzles right into your chest.

With hot months, she mostly just settles for hand-holding at the beginning, but her head somehow finds a way to your chest during the night anyway.

Haha. That was a lot. :D

#Nack's HSR Canons #Robin HSR #fem!reader #gn reader #honkai star rail #robin x reader #sfw alphabet

26 notes · View notes

cloveroctobers · 1 year

Text

LUCA — summer prompts 🍋

A/N: taking a shot writing for Mr. Luca! Love when the bear gives us crumbs and I’m able to create/build more off what was given. Let’s give it up for Mr. Eyebrow king being in lurve 💛 also I promise this is the last time I’ll be using a song from this album but the entire album fits for the bear in my humble opinion, I’m not going to hold you!

WARNINGS: still trying to get a feel for Luca’s character so I hope I wasn’t too far off for him! Feels! A supportive partner! Mentions of mental health & dark thoughts that lead to dark actions—but not overly described but definitely hinted!

Added summer prompts from here & I’m using these two: “hey, you said to keep hydrated! i’m pretty sure there’s some water in this cocktail.” + “i’m not happy you’re sunburnt, but i am enjoying getting to be the one helping you put aloe vera on.”

*GIF BELONGS TO: @goodsirs

❛ ༉‧₊˚ - ̥۪͙۪˚ ┊ ˚ ̥۪͙۪◌ ❛ ༉‧₊˚ - ̥۪͙۪˚ ┊ ˚ ̥۪͙۪◌ ❛ ༉‧₊˚ - ̥۪͙۪˚ ┊ ˚ ̥۪͙۪◌ ❛ ༉‧₊˚

Being back in Copenhagen was a whirlwind of emotions but Peyton picked the very best one.

To tell you the truth, Peyton’s been away for about three months, and decided to take the trip back but not alone.

She’s the one leading the way, natural sway in her hips even beneath her cream shacket as she’s all smiles to the familiar workers who seem to be moving at ease. It’s a Sunday, a little after twelve and the restaurant isn’t as busy yet. In her mind, it’s the perfect time to show up, unannounced, although Sydney and Marcus were definitely questioning it.

Carmy doesn’t say much, deciding to take in the architecture of the dark painted walls and the industrial decor instead. He still follows behind as Peyton pushes the back doors open, holding it in place as she waves the three to where the real show is located.

The kitchen is louder and lively compared to the main floor: which is quiet with small chatter, cedar wood infused air, and the gentle splashing from the large stone water fountain, that’s tucked in the back of the main dining floor.

There’s at least six chefs moving around in the kitchen, handling different tasks and talking to each other in calm tones that aren’t as similar back in Chicago. It’s a whole different atmosphere, Carmy thinks and he knows his thoughts are matched as his round eyes peek over at Sydney’s while Marcus sends all split-tooth grins.

It doesn’t take long for Peyton’s eyes to find Luca’s frame, who has his back turned to the four, large hands tending to the dough on the counter that he’s kneading.

“Is that the guy?” Sydney asks, only hearing a few stories from Carmy and occasionally Marcus.

Carmy nods, “yeah, yeah. That’s Luca.”

Peyton continues holding the door for the chefs who start to leave the area, greeting Peyton on their way before she lets the door gently flap behind them after they take their exit. The woman with the hair full of volume takes a stand in between Marcus and Sydney.

“Welcome and welcome back to Brimstone’s Gate.” Peyton introduced the trio who further took in the environment of the kitchen.

Marcus took a deep inhale, “it’s nice to be back…after everything you know?”

A solemn mood is felt after his words.

“I absolutely get that,” Peyton comments as she rests a hand on his shoulder, “just consider this your second home. A place of comfort and to relax your mind.”

Marcus gives a small smile, “thanks, Peyton.”

“Of course.” Peyton moves to face the three again, smile on her glossed lips as she clasps her hands together while she begins walking backwards, “so brimstone’s gate is one of the popular restaurants here in Copenhagen just like the lovely owner and manager of this place that you just met, Ragmus previously said. It’s mainly known for its intricate desserts and quaint and savory cuisine.”

“You’re really selling it, Peyton.” Sydney tells with two thumbs up.

Peyton winks as she points out at the twenty-something year old, “thanks girl, it’s what I do.”

Peyton’s a successful Editorial Food Photographer and it became the best decision she’s made for her career.

“Should we be calling you presenter chef instead?” Carmy teases, “we could have used some of those skills at the bear.”

Peyton laughs as she rolls her thumb over her fingers, “where the money resides, honey.”

“Ah, and here I thought we were friends.” Carmy’s got a crooked smile playing on his lips while Peyton playfully scoffs.

They both know if Peyton was in Chicago on better terms, Peyton would definitely shoot some photos if that’s what Carmy really needed for The Bear. She met Carmy years ago, attending the same restaurant alongside Luca, until she decided creating food wasn’t her passion like her well-known food critic mother wanted it to be. Instead she liked seeing the visuals and telling hundreds of those stories through film.

“That’s a likely story,” she responds as she purposely bumps into Luca who hadn’t noticed they were here, “oh my apologies! Didn’t see you there, Chef.”

Both Marcus and Sydney both squinted and furrowed their brows at each other while Carmy folded his arms, waiting to see how this would play out.

Luca exhales, assuming it to be one of the new clumsy younger chef’s that just started here two weeks ago. He pulls some of the wet dough that sticks to his finger tips and barely glances upwards, a routine of words spewing from his lips, “t’alright chef, let’s just remind ourselves the notices we give out to one another when we cross around, yeah?”

“Sure thing,” Peyton says, “Mind telling us what you’re preparing?”

His arched brows immediately furrow before he focuses in on who exactly is speaking to him. There’s surprise written right on his face, brows raising while Peyton is still full of soft smiles that she sends his way. He’s grabbing a rag then, struggling to break his eyes away to see the other three faces.

“Hey man,” Marcus starts which makes a slow grin appear on Luca’s own face.

“Good to see you again, Chef.”

Luca’s eyes trail over the small group, his eyes then settling on Carmy’s who still looks the same as he leans from one foot to the other but he’s full of more tattoos. Which almost makes Luca want to glance down at his own filled arms but he decides against it. He still liked his own artwork better.

“Carmen Berzatto.”

“Luca Hodgson.”

The three are watching the pair as if this is a pickle ball match. Sydney’s holding a breath as Luca makes his way over to Carmy, towering over him and face not revealing any emotion while Marcus is sending glances to Peyton who is behind analyzing Luca’s dish.

Luca says, “Are you still a know it all prick?”

Marcus was not expecting this since it was Carmy who reached out to Luca in the first place for his experience here months ago. He figured they were on good terms if Carmy wanted Marcus to learn from Luca. What changed?

“Well that uh depends, you still a show off, jackass?” Carmy met Luca’s eyes, not backing down in the slightest.

They hold each other’s stares before Luca breaks off into a laugh, followed by Carmy as they briefly embrace, hands clapping each other on the back in greeting.

“Oh, okay then.” Sydney mutters as she gazed over at Marcus who is also confused with a shrug of his shoulders.

Carmy then does the honors of introducing Sydney and Luca, who immediately shakes his hand, despite the sticky and warm residue from the dough.

“Pleasure to meet you, Chef Sydney. You probably can’t say the same now with dough on your hand, I suppose. I’ll grab you a wet nap.” Luca tells as he moves around to grab the said item.

He leans against the opposite counter where he was previously working, now fully wiping his own hands, glancing over at Peyton who’s all up in his dish as he voices, “I wasn’t aware any of you were coming. A heads up would have been cool.”

“So you’re not a fan of surprises, noted.” Marcus says while Luca dips his head about in a sorta motion.

Carmy scratched at his brow then, “We were under the impression that Peyton had it all sorted.”

Luca’s eyes are back on Peyton who’s listening but doesn’t provide anything to the conversation, it’s not like Luca could do anything about it now since they were all here.

“Don’t touch the remonce.”

“It’s not remonce yet,” Peyton looks over her shoulder at Luca who rolls his eyes.

Luca then says, “nice of you to let me know you were bringing guests.”

“They’re not guests, they’re practically family.” Peyton fans her hand about while Luca just lets out a sigh.

Carmy cuts in, “we’re not trying to disrupt the flow you have goin’ on here by any means.”

Luca snorts, “uh huh. It’s slow right now, so you lot are lucky I don’t mind.”

Sydney awkwardly claps her hands together, “great! We’re also really curious to what you’re working on…here at work.”

“Smooth, Syd. Real smooth.” Marcus teases while Sydney tightens her eyes sarcastically.

Luca looks back at his dish where Peyton is ready to show it off, posing in front of it like they were on jeopardy. The man cant help but to shake his head at her antics but announces, “I’m making frøsnapper.”

“It’s a traditional dish here,” Peyton mentions, “frø is a danish word for seed and frog.”

Sydney jokes, “Is it also going to leap off the tray after you take it out of the oven?”

Luca blinks but says with a straight face, “maybe if I throw in a few drops of green food coloring.”

It took a few seconds for Sydney to get the joke back, breathing out some slow laughter, while Marcus shook his head at her and Carmy watched as Luca briefly touched Peyton’s hips to make more space for him to talk about the pastry.

“Yes so, frøsnapper. Also known as for the English, seed snapper or frog snapper. It’s got remonce filling and once it’s done baking, it’s sweet and savory while the texture falls between flaky and delicate.”

“Like a croissant.” Marcus pointed out.

Luca shook his head, “Not quite, Marcus. This is Denmark.”

Marcus paused as he picked up on Luca’s mannerisms, “…fucker.”

Which makes Luca grin again.

“How long is Prep time?” Carmy asks as he makes the first move to get closer, peering at all the ingredients.

“About 12 hours or so.”

Carmy let’s out a low-whistle, “Shit.”

“Shit’s right mate and I started yesterday. It’s a excellent breakfast or pick me up for the afternoon, which is why I planned for it to be done today.” Luca explained.

Peyton speaks up, “and it will be…how long for the oven?”

“Fifteen minutes.” Luca automatically answers as he looks at the clock on the wall behind them all.

“See…Patience.”

“Every second.” Luca moves his winter deep ocean eyes to her ink colored ones, the two holding each other’s stare before he turns back to the rest.

“Any of you have allergic reactions to sesame or poppy seeds?” He asks, watching their facial expressions.

Carmy shrugs while both Marcus and Sydney shake their heads, ‘no.’

“Great, grab some aprons by the door there while I roll out the dough.”

“Oh, we’re doing work too on this vacation. Okay, yeah! I’m down.” Sydney rubs her hands together in excitement as she elbows Carmy lightly, who twists a smile onto his own lips.

Marcus is the first to move while Sydney follows. Carmy stays behind with Luca and Peyton as he picks up on the end of their hushed conversation:

“…I’ll be much better when we have dinner?”

“Cant. Not sure how long I’ll be here tonight, we have a few summer birthday gatherings here later. What about breakfast? It’ll be my day off.”

“Early meeting for me, I’ll be at the office.

“Lunch then?”

“…That works.”

“Finally.” Luca mutters as he takes his time but adds just enough pressure to roll out the dough, which makes Peyton let out a small laugh.

Sydney comes back, handing Carmen a apron who was mostly in a trance watching the dough get flattened that he didn’t bother to interrupt the conversation between old friends. He silently thanks Sydney before securing it around his waist.

Peyton leaves room for Marcus and Sydney to take her spot on the left of Luca, “and this is where I leave you three in good hands.”

“Wait…you’re not gonna get in on this?” Sydney is surprised while a smile is still planted on Peyton’s lips.

She motions to her outfit, “Looking this good? Not today, girl.”

Sydney eyes Peyton’s outfit which consisted of her brown voluminous hair pulled back into a claw clip, a cream opened corduroy shacket and a orange and white floral mini dress, “…fair point. I’m sure if you really wanted to, you could button that thing up and throw a apron on. Doesn’t seem like something you’d want to miss.”

“Your concern is touching, sis. But I actually can’t wait to get home and I’m sure Luca will save me one to try.” Peyton says as Luca is back in his zone now, trimming the edges of the dough and slides off the ingredients of the remonce to Marcus to mix together by hand.

Luca is listening as he replies, “yeah I will, see you at home.”

“See you at home.” Peyton repeats before winking at Sydney who is gapping, Marcus widens his eyes a bit, and Carmy is covering his snickers with a balled up fist.

Sydney turns back to the dish after Peyton leaves and mumbles, “so yeah, next time I’ll shut the fuck up.”

Which earns a laugh from both Luca and Carmy.

“You could have told us, Carmy!” Sydney whisper yells at Carmy who shrugs his shoulders.

Marcus chuckles, “Hey don’t feel bad, Luca didn’t tell me shit either the last time I was here and I’m kinda feeling a way about it now.”

Luca instructs Marcus to spread half of the remonce on one side of the dough then says, “I didn’t think we needed to share love stories just yet, Chef. The love was already there in the pastries.”

“Booo, how corny of you. Where’s the tomatoes?” Marcus snorts which Luca can’t help but to chuckle back.

Luca jokes after he nods his head in approval at the amount of remonce, “Looks like all of us were left out of something, huh?”

“If you don’t mind me asking…how long…?” Sydney starts as Luca takes over after Marcus folded the dough again, slicing it into twelve rectangles before he shows Sydney what to do next.

“What? How long have we been in love and decided to get engaged?”

“This fucking guy, how did you deal with him?” Marcus laughs, asking Carmy.

Carmy says, “we handled our beef outside.”

“What?!” Sydney squawks, “there’s no way you two fought.”

Luca explains, “it happened only once not far from the restaurant we worked at. And I don’t really classify that as much of a fight.”

“A punch to the eye wasn’t good enough for you?” Carmy’s eyes are in slits at this.

Marcus comments, “Damn.”

Luca defends, “A sucker punch isn’t fair. But I got you back, we scrambled a bit and then moved passed it the next day, bruises, cuts and all.”

Marcus concludes, “Sometimes that’s just how it works.”

“It smells like too much testosterone in here for me.” Sydney cuts in.

“Not sugar?” Luca lightly questions as he starts with the egg wash before handing another brush over to Sydney to help finish the rest.

Sydney scowls, “Yeah dude, I don’t know if I like you.”

“Join the club,” Luca winks over at Carmy who rolls his eyes with a small smile.

“Are you serious?” Luca wants to know just what his soon to be wife thought she was doing.

He met up with her, right on time, finding her sitting on the stone wall with what looked like a bright Orange cocktail in a plastic cup decorated with a little umbrella and fruit jammed along the straw.

They’re at the beach, it’s mid seventies, and there’s not many people on the walkway that rests along the sand. Mostly everyone else is taking advantage of the comfortable warmth on the sand. Luca and Peyton weren’t really beach people, preferring a lake and cabin any day but it was Peyton who suggested they meet out here since it was closer to her job.

It was far from their detached home but Luca didn’t mind the drive. He loved sight seeing when he made the time for it and usually when he had the time off, which was rare, he tried to get out there and see the world since there was so much to offer. He also couldn’t wait to be in Peyton’s face again; he wouldn’t count spooning her last night either, considering his face was covered with her bonnet.

Which he missed.

Conversations were meant to be had so that they could continue on with their journey together. She had to step away from their relationship for a few months and Luca was nothing more than understanding…although it stung a bit. He even offered to pick up and go to Chicago with her but Peyton told him life couldn’t be put on pause for her low moments, yet she was appreciative.

She dressed in jeans today as she hops off the wall, a smile in her brown eyes as she holds out her arms innocently, “hey, you said to keep hydrated! i’m pretty sure there’s some water in this cocktail.”

She’s mentioning the text message Luca sent to her a few hours ago, after she announced a headache was coming on after her meeting with her pushy manager. He was just checking in as he did a bit of laundry around the house but that didn’t stop his concern at all.

“Give me that,” Luca plucks the drink from her fingertips, fast as he sniffs at it before placing his own lips right on the straw, “hmm and here I was expecting vodka.”

“It’s not that kind of party, baby.” Peyton peers up at him as she locks her arms around his waist.

One hand comes up to palm her cheek, leaving Luca to take his time trailing his eyes all over her beautiful features, “So good to have you back.”

“Kiss me then.”

Luca snorts, “is this you asking for my consent?”

“Sure, uh huh.” She’s almost swooning in his eyes and Luca smirks as he leans closer to her lips.

“Eh, maybe later.”

“You asshole!” Peyton pushes at Luca’s back after he circled around her.

He’s laughing as he tosses a tatted arm over her shoulders, liking the feel of her being tucked right underneath his arm. She doesn’t miss how he’s holding onto her drink now, but she doesn’t mind it as long as she gets to keep him close.

They’re enjoying each other’s company again, almost as if the last three months didn’t happen but they both know it did.

“So…tell it to me straight. You’re back here with me now and I was left in the dark as soon as you were checked in.”

“I wanted to call rather than write you but I never had the words.” Peyton quietly says, “And I know you wouldn’t have minded if I just said a simple hello and we breathed on the phone for twenty minutes or whatever. I just didn’t want to make it worse for you.”

Luca hums, “Guess I can appreciate you taking my feelings into account but I can’t say I wouldn’t have rather talk to you than your mum, no disrespect.”

“Yes I know, she’s a lot.”

“Most families are.”

Peyton lays her head against Luca’s shoulder as they continue walking along the path, “Well you’re my family too and I’m sorry for handing over nothing but white noise to you while I was trying to get a better hold on this.”

It was extremely hard not knowing where exactly Peyton was and dealing with a mother like her’s.

“I don’t want you to apologize for doing what you thought was best for your mental health.”

“And I don’t want you to feel like I was shutting you out…you’re the last person I’d want to ever to do that to. I love you too much, to the point where I realized that I’d always want tomorrow’s with you.”

Luca felt his heart swell at that. It was always a good feeling to know that someone loves you just as much as you loved them. Luca was always known for his banter especially back when he worked at Noma years ago with both Carmy and Peyton but it seemed like Peyton’s energy meshed well with his.

He instantly thought Peyton was attractive and didn’t enjoy how she got on with Carmy equally at the start. Her approach to cooking wasn’t as serious as it was for him and Carmy but she was curious to learning. That’s something that was brought into their soon romantic relationship, they were open to go with the flow and it led them right to Luca putting a ring on it.

Peyton never had regrets about saying yes. She knew what she wanted with Luca and although the black parts of her brain gave her heavy blues, her heart still told her all that she needed to know.

Luca was patient, tender and he was still her man. They wanted forever and had to find balance even when it became shaky at times. They wanted to stick it out, be together and they lost touch once before when Peyton was the first to leave Denmark but somehow they always found their way back.

“I think that counts for a kiss, don’t you?” Luca whispers, stopping right in their path as he stares down at the dark umber skinned beauty.

Peyton almost pounces on her toes, “thank you! As if we haven’t deprived each other enough.”

“Gosh, so needy.” Luca teases, curling a finger underneath her chin to tilt her ready lips to meet his.

They both exhale as their lips touch after being away for quite some time. Her hand is resting against his clothed ribcage and their lips move together in sync as if there isn’t any limit to time. It’s when his tongue traces the outline of her full bottom lip that she pulls away, fanning herself.

“This man is trying to get me to buss it open in public on the beach, Chile. Relax yourself Hodgson, before we catch a charge.”

Luca’s nose crinkles at this as he chuckles, “fine…save it for the indoors, yeah?”

“Maybe even in the backyard?”

Luca raises his arched brows, actually considering it, “Nah, I don’t want to hear you yelling at me for messing up your edges in the grass. Mind you, that you’re probably allergic to.”

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s messed up Peyton’s edges.

However Peyton always appreciated the concern.

“What about the garden room on the side of the flat?” Luca soon suggested, leaving Peyton to also think about this before she eyed Luca up and down.

It must have still been empty since she left, that area of the home completely slipped her mind when she settled back in, even after leaving Brimstone’s gate yesterday afternoon.

“I think you forget how big you are sometimes.”

A smirk appeared on Luca’s lips then and before he could even open his mouth, Peyton was slapping her hand right over his lips.

“Don’t finish that sentence, there’s kids around.” Peyton warned.

Luca frowned as he muffled, “you started it!”

Peyton smiles at a father who is holding the bars of a tricycle of his toddler, leading them down the path, excusing them as they make their way by. Once they’re out of ear shot, Peyton lowers her hand from Luca’s lips until he pulls the sun glasses from her combed out pin-curled hair to place over his own eyes.

“You’re very handsy today.”

Luca’s arm drapes back over Peyton’s shoulder, pulling her into his side, then he presses a kiss to her temple, “I don’t see you complaining.”

“You’re right.” She pulls her cocktail back to take a sip, “why would I ever?”

“Exactly,” Luca speaks, “…going forward, whatever you need from me, don’t be afraid to let me know please, Mrs. Hodgson.”

Peyton places a kiss to Luca’s pink neck, “thank you baby.”

“Don’t start singing that pasta and lobster song please,” Luca groans after picking up on her tone.

Peyton sends him a look of innocence, “what do you mean? Are we not having that back at the house when the three bears come over?”

“What’d do you mean?”

“There’s no way we’re not inviting Carmy, Marcus, and Sydney over for dinner.”

Luca shrugs, “I didn’t know they were comin’ ‘round anyways.”

“Luca!”

“What? What if I wanted you all to myself first?”

“And you will, they’ll only be here for a week.”

“…A week too long.” Luca mutters making Peyton laugh as she shakes her head, shoving his shoulder.

“Stop it, Luca Lamar Hodgson.”

“No.” Luca chuckles as he points at the beaming woman, “Now you know that is not my middle name, at all.”

What do you have against Lamar’s Luca?

“I’ve talked to Lulu on my way here.”

Luca feels his eye twitch at the mention of his gossiping little sister, Luella. He of course loved her dearly but she could be a brat sometimes and when he misses her call, Peyton was next in line for her dramatics.

“The elevator doesn’t always go upstairs with that one. Especially with whatever she’s gone and said to you.”

“You are on a roll today,” Peyton laughed with her head thrown back, “and you’re not about to do my good sis like that either.”

“She’s my sister first and I know she didn’t say my middle name was that.”

“You don’t know our conversations.”

“Thank heavens for that.”

Peyton paused as she untangled herself from Luca who lifted up her shades to peer at her in question. She held her arms out as she says, “there’s space and opportunity if you wanna fight.”

Luca scans Peyton up and down, taking his time as he did and scoffs, “You don’t scare me, babe. I’ll have you over my shoulder like flour in seconds.”

Peyton cracks her neck and motions her hand, “come on then. Remind me, which one of us was the athlete here?”

Yeah Peyton was deeply invested in tennis once upon a time and originally that’s what Luca thought she wanted to make a profession. She still participated down at the court during the weekends and man was she fast along with those long arms that provided powerful swings. Luca couldn’t see her on the court when it came to tennis, he almost pulled a damn hamstring but he wouldn’t tell any of his mates that.

As for football and cycling…that was a different story.

“That was then and what year are we in now?” He tapped his apple-watch.

Peyton cupped her ear, “Do I hear shade?”

Luca looks around at the sky, “doesn’t appear to be partly cloudy at all. It’s actually very sunny.”

Peyton let out a whole karate sound and tried to strike one, which was humorous but Luca was swift as he easily gripped her thighs and lugged her right up onto his shoulder, holding her in place.

“I told you.” Luca said after awhile, causally walking down the path while Peyton attempted to wiggle around, “let me know when you’re done. I’m just enjoying the view.”

Peyton huffed, “now what if you made me drop my cocktail?”

“I’ve got actual water back in the car, love.”

Peyton mocked Luca who laughed and patted her backside, carrying on in Copenhagen’s sun.

Up in their bedroom, Peyton is lounging on the bed, phone raised up in the air browsing food TikTok’s until she hears Luca letting out a string of curses that sound heavy in his accent from their en suite bathroom.

“Luca, you good?” Peyton calls out to the man, breaking her eyes away from her screen.

“Y-Yup!”

That didn’t sound convincing at all.

So Peyton’s on her feet now, phone tossed to the side of her as she enters the bathroom. She gets a nice view of reddened skin that’s leading from Luca’s neck and down the upper part of his back.

“Ouch.” Peyton remarks, “I did not notice this earlier. I would have sprayed your ass down with my own sunscreen.”

Luca pinched at his skin and flinches a bit, “summer’s aren’t nearly as hot here. I don’t understand why I look like bloody salmon.”

Peyton covers her giggle, knowing why as she stands beside him, after eyeing the change in his skin tone. “I got you, don’t worry.”

There was no doubt in his mind.

Mintues later, Peyton’s retrieved the goo that she had mashed in the container, stored in the back of the fridge, knowing Luca wouldn’t have went searching through there since he tended to eat out at restaurants or order out majority of the time. He had a sweet tooth so she had to be the one to remind him to actually eat full meals instead of desserts from time to time. Which means they’ll have to go grocery shopping at some point, something Luca truly loathes. unbeknownst to him, his mother all the way out in London had grocery deliveries sent to his home, realizing that he didn’t keep his fridge stocked much after Peyton went back to the states.

Peyton first went off to California to visit her father and grandmother in search of different scenery, taking a break from the growing stress but that stress turned into something else. Luca looked back and saw the signs as they laid on the floor together in the dark, with her talking about the end but figured it was just conversation back then. It wasn’t until she went to Chicago to spend time with her controlling mother that she actually tried and it wasn’t just thoughts. Unperceived to Luca and that’s when Luca’s own mother came to be with her son during this difficult time, then he finally got the call that Peyton was being admitted, just to later learn Peyton’s mother called Luca’s first.

He couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t a little irked that people were going behind his back when it came to Peyton. He should have been there…but he knew he couldn’t blame himself. He thought he was just sending his wife to be off for a simple get away…overall he was happy that she was still here fighting day by day.

He knows it’ll be tough but not everyday will be full of clouds.

“i’m not happy you’re sunburnt, but i am enjoying getting to be the one helping you put aloe vera on.” Peyton says as she’s on Luca’s back, knee’s on either side of him, lathering his back in the cold gel.

Her eyes observe the doodles of ink that decorated his arms and smiles at the sunflower on his shoulder, which he dedicated to her.

Luca exhales at the temperature as he continues resting his cheek against his arm, ready to doze off, “Why’s that?”

“I enjoy taking care of you too, duh.”

“I think you like to touch my body, Mariah Carey.”

“That tooooo-ooh,” she tries to belt out a whistle tone that sounds like a rooster being strangled—“but I also love you.”

“I love you lots too, even when you’re trying to make my eardrums bleed…but don’t ever forget that, yeah?” Luca says over his shoulder as he tries to ignore the sting in his skin but knowing that the comfort is coming from Peyton’s hands, he’ll survive.

Peyton leans forward again to place a kiss to the back of Luca’s head, “I won’t.”

Once enough of Luca’s back in covered in aloe, Peyton leaves to wash her hands and place the gel back into the fridge downstairs. When she comes back into the bedroom, Luca is still in the same position she left him in. Usually her side of the bed is closest to the door, which is something they deeply debated over, she climbs over him to tuck herself underneath his folded arm.

His lips press into her clothed shoulder, his t-shirt, before resting his nose against it later, breathing in her homey scent with his eyes closed. One hand goes to run through his sun lightened hair, further soothing him to sleep as she’s back on her phone now, letting him rest.

No more cold sides of the bed because Peyton was home with her warmth and Luca couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

And the next day after that.

And so on and so forth.

❛ ༉‧₊˚ - ̥۪͙۪˚ ┊ ˚ ̥۪͙۪◌ ❛ ༉‧₊˚ - ̥۪͙۪˚ ┊ ˚ ̥۪͙۪◌ ❛ ༉‧₊˚ - ̥۪͙۪˚ ┊ ˚ ̥۪͙۪◌ ❛ ༉‧₊˚

Go back and read my current flop summer prompt here.

Continue along with my anthology summer prompts here.

#the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #the bear season two #the bear season 2 #the bear s2 #the bear luca #Luca the bear #will poulter #luca the bear x reader #Luca the bear x black! reader #carmy berzatto #sydney amadu #marcus the bear #summer prompts #queued

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