#likes to charge that i do actually get one of the two positions i'm being considered for but holy shit

[medicinemane]

The problem with people who are "right" because they insist they're right, and the only way to be right is to simply perfectly follow their every dictation on the subject unquestioningly is this...

Ok, let's just take it as a given that you're right... the problem here is that if that's what's right I'm afraid I have to dig my heels into being wrong. If you are as righteous and just as you insist you are then I've got no choice but to be the villain because I can't stand what you're saying I'd have to do to be good

Shockingly I even think it's wrong, which is odd because we've already defined it that you're inherently and unassailably right... yet here we are

Worst part is there's a lot of these things where I'm not even full stop against it, I actually might be on their side if they could stop and address a couple of issues I consider kind of important... but they won't, because they're morally right and don't have time for addressing nonexistent issues I'm clearly just dreaming up

Undoubtedly right they are, the defect must surely be my own... and yet here we are. Vile and wicked as it might make me, I still can't just go along with you

[sergeantxrogers]

Can you please write something with the idea of y/n asking Bucky if she can tie a pink ribbon around his bicep? Thank you

Request: "Can you please write something with the idea of y/n asking Bucky if she can tie a pink ribbon around his bicep? Thank you"

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: none, just fluff

Note: hooooly shit guys, i've been gone for way too long. hope you enjoy <3

_____

The jingle of keys in the doorknob had you lifting your eyes from your book, followed by the sound of the door opening and closing softly. The quiet whispers of a jacket being taken off, laces being untied, keys being set on the small table beside the door travelled through the apartment, meeting your ears and bringing a smile to your face.

Soft footsteps padded against the hardwood floor, careful to avoid any creaky spots.

"I'm awake, Buck," you called out softly from the comfort of your bed, and you heard him pause his movements. And then continue, a bit quicker than before.

Brown hair and blue eyes popped around the the edge of the door frame, brows furrowed. "It's midnight. Why are you still awake?"

You shrugged, sitting up in bed and setting your book aside. "Dunno, really. Got caught up reading."

Bucky frowned, and stepped into the room, walking over to the bed. "You can't sleep?"

It was a casual question, but you sensed the undertone of worry laced through it, and smiled to yourself.

"Actually, I spent most of the evening redecorating, so I'll probably start snoring as soon as the lights are off."

Bucky's hands reached for yours, grabbing them and bringing them up to his lips as he stood in front of you. One, two, three kisses along your knuckles. One hand, then the other.

"Redecorating?" he murmured against your skin, and you nodded slyly. His eyes narrowed, partially in amusement, partially in curiosity.

You cleared your throat and pulled your hands back, settling yourself back into the fluffy down of your pillows and blankets. "How was work today?"

At your question, Bucky's jaw ticked.

"It was fine."

You studied him for a few seconds, and cocked your head. "Just fine?"

He let out a heavy sigh, then collapsed atop the comforter at the foot of the bed. On nights like this, when he came home later than usual, the tension in his shoulders a bit more prominent than usual, the bags under his eyes a bit heavier, he found it hard to form sentences adequate enough to explain how he felt or what he needed.

Ever since the government cleared him of all charges and his mandated therapy ended, Bucky had taken up a job at the DCSA.

Defense Counterintelligence and Security Agency.

On paper, James Buchanan Barnes was an ordinary, ex-military security guard working for the Department of Defense and the United States.

In reality, the executive branch of the federal government reached out to him themselves and offered him a job doing what they claimed he did best: making people disappear, and making it seem like an accident. He was hesitant at first, unwilling to be the very thing he tried so hard to run away from being, but soon enough, they had made it very clear he had limited options: accept the position, or get thrown in prison for all the charges they claimed to have dropped.

So, for all his hesitating and hatred, Bucky Barnes was the United States government's own personal hitman, killing anybody who posed a threat to the life of the president, his family, or anybody in the Senate.

At least they paid better than HYDRA, Bucky had once joked. You could see, in his eyes, how much it pained him to revert back to his old ways, once again not having a choice.

Bucky cleared his throat, and glanced at you, blinking away the shadows behind his eyes.

"It's fine, sweetheart. I promise. It could have been worse."

Your heart cracked in your chest and you frowned, burying your cheek even deeper into your pillow as you looked at him. "If you say so."

Bucky pursed his lips to the side, then looked toward the door connecting your bedroom to the bathroom. Without a word, he got up, walking towards the bathroom and simultaneously pulling his shirt over his head. You smiled to yourself as you watched him disappear behind the door, flicking the lights on and letting the soft, yellow glow flood the floor of your room. You listened to him shuffle about, letting out a soft sigh as he unbuckled his belt.

His movements paused.

Your smile grew.

"Y/N?" he called out.

"Yes, babe?"

The door creaked open all the way, and behind it stood Bucky, holding his toothbrush in one hand, with a confused look on his face.

"Why is there a pink bow on my toothbrush?"

It took all your strength not to burst into a fit of giggles immediately as you schooled your face into one of nonchalance, and said, "I told you. I redecorated."

Bucky's bewildered eyes flickered from you, to the toothbrush, then back to you. Then he turned to look at the bathroom. And you saw the exact moment in which he realized there were pink bows everywhere. Big, small, light pink, dark pink, neon pink, cotton, silk, linen. A variety of ribbons tied in bows around everything you could think of: toothbrushes, toothpaste, shampoo bottles, the soap dispenser, the toilet brush, the towel rack, your skincare bottles, his deodorant and cologne.

"Y/N," Bucky said calmly.

"Yes?" you replied, batting your eyelashes innocently.

"Can you please tell me, why, exactly, you decided on redecorating with pink bows everywhere?"

You hummed, then shrugged. "You know, I'm not exactly sure. I just think they make pretty things look so much prettier. I may have gone a bit overboard, though."

"You think?"

You bit back a grin as you watched him shake his head, as if to snap him from his stupor of amusement, and bend over the sink to brush his teeth. You watched him brush his teeth, wash his face, change out of his jeans and into pajama pants. You tracked him as he turned the lights off and sighed, trudging over to the bed, exhaustion creeping into every one of his movements and pulling at him like gravity. You opened your arms wide, lifting the covers as you did so, and Bucky gladly crawled into them, nuzzling his head into your chest and wrapping his arms around your waist and back.

You placed a soft kiss to the crown of his head, and let your arms come loosely around his neck. Bucky said nothing, content to lay in silence and listen to the beat of your heart as it lulled him to sleep.

After a few minutes of you silently running your fingers through his hair, you whispered his name. "Bucky?"

He hummed in answer against your chest.

"You know how I said pink bows make pretty things even prettier?"

You felt, rather than saw, his body pause at the question, and then his head was up and his blue eyes were staring into yours with a puzzled expression. "Yes... why? What's that have to do with anything?"

"Well..."

You paused. All of a sudden, you felt stupid. Bucky's furrowed brows and sleepy eyes urged you to continue.

"I have a pink ribbon under the pillow, actually, and I was... I wanted to..."

"What, honey?"

"Well, I was wondering if I could tie it around your arm."

Bucky paused, blinking up at you slowly, as if he hadn't heard you.

"My arm?"

You nodded.

"Why?"

You shrugged. "Because it's already beautiful, and I want to make it even more so."

He laid there quiet for a moment, and you were about to tell him to forget about it, but then he unwrapped his arms from around you, letting you drop flat onto your back, and shoved a hand beneath your head. Beneath your pillow.

He emerged with a baby pink ribbon in his fingers, the material pliable and soft in his grip, as he handed it to you.

"Go ahead," he said simply.

You gave him a skeptical look. "Really?"

He shrugged with one shoulder. "Why not? Did you think I'd say no?"

You fell quiet, then let out a sigh through your nose, turning over slightly to better reach his arm. His left arm.

You wrapped the ribbon around his bicep, the vibranium cold and unyielding, a stark contrast to the warm pink silk in your fingers. You looped it through, pulling it taut, then let go. You stared at it for a second, then glanced up at Bucky. Leaning in, you pressed a light kiss to the exposed metal right above the bow.

Bucky let out a shuddering breath, then laid down again, this time face to face with you. His fingers traced soft, swirling patterns against the skin of your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and you closed your eyes against the feeling.

"I love you so much," he muttered quietly. "You know that, right?"

You nodded, eyes closed and a smile playing at your lips. "I know. I love you, too. Every part of you."

Bucky loosed a breath that sounded somewhat like a disbelieving breath, and you felt him lean in and press a kiss to your temple.

You fell asleep without even realizing, lulled into dreams by the steady thrum of his heartbeat and his hand stroking your hair.

[hellish-sunsets]

Lucifer red string of fate soulmate au? Like, maybe he and Lilith originally got together despite the strings because Lucifers was Grey or something at the time; but eventually his turns bright red because turns out his soulmate was mortal and is now a sinner so they can actually be together? I think it would be cute since he's so depressed with Lilith leaving him; now he has the sparkle of hope that he can find the missing piece to his puzzle 😊 if you do end up writing this request could it be super fluffy??? (Also bonus points if Sinner Reader is not only shorter then him but also super kind hearted and sweet!)

I'm a sucker for soulmate AU's! This one got a bit away from me, I'll probably have to make a part two, but for now here's what I got!

Gray Dyed Red

Word Count: 1,912

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

The strings existed since the beginning of… well, existence. Every being had one tied to their middle finger, or the closest they had to one for the more animalistic ones. No one could see them but the owner of the string, thin things that could never tangle or be broken, either red or gray. And at the end of that string was supposed to be your soulmate. Well, as long as it was red. 

Lucifer’s had always been gray. 

And yeah, it bothered him at first, but he was quick to push aside and keep himself busy with creating with the other angels. He would lose himself in his work. But then, none of his ideas were good enough. They were too… different. He just wanted to make something he could be proud of. 

He was only allowed to watch when Adam and Lillith were made. 

Watching wasn’t as much fun, but he could still keep himself distracted. He smiled down at them as they started their lives on the earth they were given. 

Then they fell apart. He didn’t understand why. Surely the first man and woman would be soulmates, right? But no, they didn’t fit well at all. They’re relationship was a constant fight of who was in charge. He decided he had to help somehow, and in the process fell in love with Lillith. She told him her string was gray, and he thought that maybe they could make it work. They loved and supported each other! What did it matter if they weren’t soulmates?

Even after their fall to hell, they spent thousands of years in each other's arms. 

Then she left.

No word, no note, just an empty bed and an empty castle. 

And he knew he was falling apart, shunning the rest of the world, not even reaching out to Charlie anymore, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He just wanted a distraction, something to put his mind on that wasn’t his own failures. 

The gray string of his was just a reminder that there was no one for him, not even the woman he gave all his existence to. 

But it was strange. All these thousands of years, it had never changed color before. 

He didn’t even notice at first, couldn’t pinpoint when exactly it happened. He was in bed, had probably been there far too long. He physically couldn’t sleep anymore, so he needed to distract himself with something else. Maybe he could make an actually good rubber duck today. He should probably shower first, or clean himself in some way. Showers were faster so they usually won out. Though, they didn’t usually end up being faster once he gets in there. 

Whatever, he just needed to get up, right?

With a groan, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, stretching his arms over his head. He avoided staring at the empty side of the bed, shoving the covers off to head for the bathroom, the wood floors cold against his feet. 

He yawned as he stood in front of the bathroom mirror. That’s when he saw it, a glint of red. He frowned and lowered his hand to stare, wondering what he had seen. It couldn’t have been his eyes, the shade wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t his cheeks. He went to scratch his chin but froze with his hand halfway up. 

The string was red, deep and bright and unlike anything he had seen before. He looked down at his hand with wide eyes, not quite comprehending what it meant, but for some reason his heart seemed to flip in his chest. That was strange…

So… he had a soulmate now? How? When? Were they just made, or perhaps they were born somewhere? Were they from Earth? Heaven? Hell? Could he find them now? Maybe it turned because they just entered hell. But then, how good of a person could they be if they were down here with the sinners, perhaps a sinner themself? Was that even the type of person he wanted to interact with? But he had seen so many find their soulmates on the other end of their string and, good person or not, they were always perfect for eachother.

His heart does another flip in his chest.

He forces himself to undress and get in the shower, but his mind kept racing, going over the same questions over and over again.

His shower was much shorter than usual. He wanted to get out as soon as possible.

It had been a very long time since he bothered walking or flying through the city. He didn’t much like the sights or the people. Lilith was the one who dealt with them. Every single one of those sinners was just a reminder of what he had done, a never ending punishment. He preferred avoiding it all together. The last thing he ever wanted was to see how his gift of free will was abused by so many.

But that didn’t matter now. As much as he hated the people and the crowds, he was going to follow this stupid string until he found it’s end. 

—-------------------------

A few days passed. 

Pentagram city couldn’t be that big, and yet here he was, still searching. He did rest. Occasionally. Sometimes. Probably not enough. The only reason he did rest as much as he did was… well, he wanted to be at his best when he did finally find the end of his string. He wanted to make a good impression!

He narrowed it down to the edge of the city, a more rundown section where new sinners tended to congregate.

So they had to be new to hell. That's why his string suddenly changed color. They must have been a human who recently died and manifested here. He… wasn’t sure how he felt about it. What if she was just as awful as every other sinner? He feared that the most, that he was destined for some terrible person, that he didn’t deserve someone actually nice…

His string went straight down to an alley below. He could avoid the crowd, thank God. He swept down into the alley, feet landing with a quiet clack against the cracked concrete. He withdrew his wings, glancing around his filthy surroundings with a scowl of disgust. Surely there wasn’t anyone lounging in the muck here, right. But no, there was someone here, a sinner in tattered clothes, standing with their back pressed against the brick wall, head bowed as they took deep breaths, like they were calming themself down from something. 

A frown tugged at his lips. He glanced down at his hand, eyes tracing the vibrant red string towards this sinner, the other end tied around their finger.

It was them. 

He wasn’t entirely sure when he started walking towards them, just knew when his hand clasped around theirs. They jumped, trying to pull away at the sudden contact until their eyes met. They almost immediately relaxed, eyes widening with understanding as they gazed down at their clasped hands, then back up into his eyes. It was odd. No one had looked up at him since Charlie was still young.

He was usually better with words. They would normally come so easily to him, even if they may not always be the best or a bit rambling. But for once in his life, he wasn't sure what to say.

“Hi.” They said, smiling up at him ever so sweetly.

“Hey.” He smiled back, a flush rising in his cheeks. “What, um, brings you… here.” He motioned vaguely to the filthy alley with a slight frown, but the smile returned when he looked down at them.

“Ah, you know, just trying to collect myself and not freak out.” They said with her cheery voice, chuckling a little at themself. “I, uh, I never really thought I'd end up down here. I guess I thought sometimes I'd end up in hell, but honestly I just didn't think about it. But it's okay! I think I get it now.”

He tilted his head slightly in confusion, but that giddy smile never did leave his face. “What do you mean? You know why you’re down here?”

They nodded.

“Yep! I'm here to be with you! That must be it!”

Warmth didn’t bloom in his chest like he's felt in other circumstances. No, it was more like being hit by a freight train face first. In an instant he had them in his arms, savoring their surprised giggle as he squeezed them tight, burying his face in their hair. They happily hugged back. 

It could have been only a moment, it could have been hours, but he didn’t care. He didn’t dare let them go until he was sure this wasn't some sort of trick or dream. Only when he was satisfied did he pull away, eyes looking over them intently, committing every contour of their face to memory, every scratch, every scar, those sparkling eyes, that smile sweeter than apple pie. Shit, they really were perfect for him, weren't they? They could confess to murder and he would forgive them instantly.

“My name's Y/N, by the way.” 

Even their name was perfect.

“Lucifer.”

“Like the devil Lucifer?” They didn't even look that perturbed, just curious. He chuckled and gave a little bow. 

“The one and only. Come on, let's get you cleaned up.”

‐—-------------------

It was strange, having someone in his quarters again, sitting in bed with the sound of the shower running in the back. It felt… right. It was proper he wasn’t alone anymore. How things were meant to be. Nice.

He sat up straighter when he heard the shower turn off. A few long minutes passed before she came out, dressed in a simple white sundress he provided. He wasn’t very good at making clothes, he preferred creating animals and things similar, but at the very least it looked like it fit, accentuating her sweet smile. 

He could feel his cheeks heating up, but he ignored it in favor of exaggerating the smile she brought to his face.

She sat on the edge of the bed next to him, running her fingers through the damp strands of her hair.

“Well…” She started, but wasn't really sure what to say, voice drifting off. She stared at her feet, unsure what else to do. 

He tilted his head to the side, just watching her for a moment. He reached out for her, hesitating for a moment before cupping her cheek, guiding her head to turn towards him. He just… he needed to see her eyes again. He needed to be sure she's real and in front of him and this wasn't some sort of trick. 

She smiled at him and leaned into his hand. His heart melted.

“I didn't think I'd ever find my soulmate.” She admitted in a whisper. “My string was always gray before, so I thought…” She trailed off and shrugged. He nodded his understanding.

“Yeah, me too. ‘Sorta assumed I just didn't have one since I wasn't human. I think it's more common for demons and angels to have gray strings.” His brows furrowed in thought, but whatever was running through his mind vanished as she turned her head to kiss the palm of his hand.

“... what do we do now?” She asked.

He gulped and shook his head, gathering his thoughts.

“I suppose I should introduce you to my daughter.”

[mochinomnoms]

Lmao poor yuu being the mate of the twins you just woke up crazy stuff happened last night, and you are greeted by the twins in "Lets be productive with this" mode so even if you have the most confused look on your face the twins keep talking about wedding plans and please you just woke up too much information to analyze and come up with an answer to, they are so focused on "What are we going to do with the family introduction" that they forgot that you aren't someone that was raised with mer customs or traditions and maybe they should explain what is happening to you.. Maybe after breakfast you are still a bit cranky

-Vaquita (hkKkaksksmsuiaksbs domestic tweels hehe *blushes like a whore*)

dis u:

The twins are so strange to you sometimes. You like them a lot (like a lot, what's wrong with you), don't get it twisted, but they are weird. How you managed to make it out of their room and into Azul's office is a question within itself. Azul is looking up at you from his desk, fixing up a contact of some sort, with an unsurprised look on his face.

“Oh good, I take it the twins are also finally awake? Can you bring them over so we can discuss—”

“Azul, they're acting strange.”

The octomer blinked at you, raising a brow as if your statement as obvious.

“Okay?”

“Stranger than usual!” You opened the door behind you, peeking out before slamming it shut and covering it with your body.

“They woke me up with things about meeting their parents, about if they want to live on the surface or give me a transformation potion, and Floyd kept talking about wanting to be in charge of the wedding reception. What wedding is he talking about!?”

“Oh, they must have forgotten you wouldn't have known. Eelmers mate for life, and based on the sounds the entire dorm heard last night, the twins, err…mated with you.”

Azul cringed at the thought, shaking his head. “I've taken the liberty of writing an engagement contract for you three.”

“Huh?”

“Of course, Jade and Floyd will take a look through it, as well as Mr. Leech, or your new father-in-law, if I may say.”

“Wait a sec—”

“Don't worry, morays have a low divorce rate, but even then I've written you a solid prenuptial agreement in the case that one of them does something you don't like. This way, you'll be set for life if you have to go off on your own.”

“Hey! I didn't—oh actually that's really nice of you Azul, wait no! I didn't agree to any—”

The door slammed open as you removed your body weight to walk up to Azul's desk. You're positive that if they'd really wanted to, they could've mowed you down to open the door. But you're their mate now, so they have to take care of you!

“There's our little shrimp! I turned away to getcha another snack, and you managed to sneak away, come 'ere!”

You yelped as Floyd scooped you up in his arms and gave you a loud, wet smooch on the cheek, loose shirt hanging so that you could see the bite marks you left during the night. Jade was wearing more form fitting pajamas, but you could see in the way he cautiously shifted his back that the scratches you'd left on his back were still stinging.

“See Floyd? I told you they'd be with Azul, who looks like is working on a new contract. Am I safe to assume that's the marriage contract I asked you to work on last week?”

Jade kissed your other cheek and chuckled at Azul's deadpan face, the latter darting between you, Floyd and Jade as the twins cooed at your distress. Azul cleared his throat right as you opened your mouth to start cussing them out for acting weird(er).

“It's an engagement contact, actually, which now I'm glad I switched to, because I do believe your little mate there isn't aware of the commitment you've both bound them into. Maybe you three should go back to one of your rooms to discuss before they turn you down and leave you lonely and single forever.”

The twins blinked owlishly at you, then at Azul, and then back at you. You gave them an unamused glare. The two shared a look of worry before rushing back to their bedroom to explain and convince you why being their mate was a good idea (and to please accept them, they only want you).

(It took them nearly three hours of explaining and convincing you to accept the proposal for their anxiety to go down. To be honest, it only took them the first 5 minutes of explaining to make you want to stay as their mate, but you needed some petty revenge for the confusion they caused.)

[hikarry]

Aziraphale and Crowley plan a vacation free of miracles, just for the heck of it. Just to do it the way humans do. Maybe it's fun! Maybe they will have a grand old time! Who knows?

It all starts with packing.

Aziraphale is the very first to regret this idea as soon as he opens his bag on top of the bed, ready to pack. They can only take so many bags because they are going on the Bentley, and no miracles means no calling books through space with a single snap of his fingers. So...one bag is not enough, surely.

"Oh, but it is, angel. Max one bag for clothes and one bag for books, nothing more."

"But Crowley, that's absurd! We'll be in Scotland for 2 weeks! Am I supposed to take, what? 5 books? And how am I supposed to choose?"

"This 'no miracles' trip was your idea. Now deal with it."

Aziraphale deals with it, but not without a lot of complaining and making a list of pros and cons of taking every single one of his favorite books. He ends up with a bag full of them and a couple more in the clothes bag.

This is to say that Crowley doesn't have an easier time. No miracles means no miracling his own clothes, so he's got to actually pack something. And he likes most of his clothes. And you never know what type of events will be around. A restaurant? A play? He needs outfits. Good outfits. And a toothbrush. And shampoo and conditioner, cause he refuses to use the ones from the hotel. And hair gel! Cause no miracles also means no miracling his hair into being in shape...doing his hair every morning will be an absolute pain in the arse, but he can endure it. Yet, when he goes to close his bag...it's too full. Taking two bags of clothes would be ridiculous, so he lays his hand on the bag and pushes down, trying to run the zipper. Nothing happens. He sighs and sits on the bag, pulling the zipper once again, and it runs for a couple of millimeters.

"Angel, give me a hand, will you?"

"With what, dear?"

"I'll sit on the bag and also push it down with my hands and you will try to close the zipper." He opens his legs so Aziraphale can access the bag's zipper and he jumps once on his bag, pushing down with his hands.

Aziraphale almost breaks the bloody zipper, but it does indeed close.

With the bags in the Bentley and both seated on their usual positions, Crowley lays his hands on the steering wheel, but doesnt start the car just yet, instead looking ahead.

"Everything alright?"

"...does 'no miracles' mean I can't keep the tank of the Bentley full?"

"I suppose."

"Aziraphale, I haven't gone to a gas station since I got the bloody James Bond stickers!"

"And when was that?"

"Many, many decades ago."

"Oh well, I'm sure getting fuel in a car isn't that difficult. It mustn't have changed since back then."

"Are you sure we can't make an exception?"

"Quite."

"...is this because of the books?"

"Mmh."

Crowley groans and goes to start the car, but he stops short of the ignition.

"Are you...keeping the Bentley whole with miracles? Is that the new problem, my dear?"

"No." He looks up at the angel. "I have to buy a phone charger."

"Whatever for?"

"Because I keep my phone charged with miracles, angel! And I have absolutely zero idea where the original charger is! I never used it! With a bit of luck its still somewhere in Mayfair."

"Oh well, we will stop at a phone shop then. Easy fix."

The demon takes a deep breath, and off they go, on their road trip to Scotland at very not legal speeds - not for lack of complaining on the angel's side, mind you.

When they get to Edinburgh, they quickly find their hotel and go up to their room. Both take showers and, hell, it's still mid afternoon, so they go for a stroll around.

At about dinner time, Crowley quickly googles restaurants nearby and finds one named "Angels with Bagpipes". As soon as he sees it, he stops scrolling. It's somewhat modern and certainly different from the Ritz, but, Satan, look at that name! They just couldn't not go.

"You're joking, certainly." Aziraphale looks over his shoulder. "Look at that other one! Rhubarb. It looks so much more-"

"Posh?"

The angel eyes him side ways.

"I was going to say classy. Romantic."

Crowley snorts.

"Oh this is a romantic vacation, is it?"

"No!" He slaps his arm. "I mean-! Yes! Just-" He runs a hand down his face while Crowley keeps laughing. "Oh, hush. I'm just saying that one looks way more up our alley. That one is too modern."

"I'm down with modern. Big fan of modern, me."

"Oh, believe me, my dear, I'm extremely aware, but-"

"And! For a restaurant as posh as that I bet we need reservations. And you know what we don't have?" Crowley wiggles his fingers. "Reservations. Or miracles to get said reservations."

Aziraphale rolls his eyes, trying to suppress an exasperated sigh. Crowley was ridiculous. How in all the heavens did he put up with him through all these years will forever be a mystery.

"Alright. Let's go to the other one."

Crowley smiles, victorious, and offers him his arm, which Aziraphale promptly takes.

"An angel and a demon walk into a restaurant named 'Angels with Bagpipes'-"

"Crowley!"

And off they go, down the streets of Edinburgh. They have dinner and Aziraphale only complains until the food is served. Afterwards he appears quite content to stuff his face with appetizers and whatnot all while under the watchful eye of Crowley that keeps sipping his wine silently, one elbow on the table, while under said table his leg pushes against Aziraphale's.

"Do behave yourself, will you?"

"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean, angel." He uses his foot to slightly slide up Aziraphale's leg.

"We are in public."

"Your point?"

Aziraphale closes his legs, trapping Crowley's foot in between them.

"That's my point."

Crowley pouts, pulling his leg away.

"Boring, you are."

The meal proceeds with little to no incidents. Just the usual: Aziraphale utterly enjoying his food and Crowley watching him as he is enraptured by the flavors and its, honest to Satan, impossible to look away. Not to mention the satisfied wiggles. And the moans. It can pass 6000 more years, but Crowley will never ever get used to those.

"Angel."

"Yes, my dear?"

"Do you have money?" Aziraphale suddenly drops his fork and looks up at Crowley, mouth hanging open. "Thought so."

"Heavens, what are we going to do? We can surely miracle it, right? This is an emergency."

"Nop. You didn't let me miracle the fuel so no miracling the money either."

"You paid for the fuel."

"My last pounds, yes."

The angel's eyes widen quite comically.

"You must be joking."

"No. No joke. Last bills in my wallet." He sloshes the wine inside his glass, leaning closer towards Aziraphale. "And I bet this is all quite the price too. What do we do, Aziraphale? Leave by the back like criminals?"

"There's no back and we are not criminals! We need to miracle the money!"

"That's against the rules." He points at the angel, raising an eyebrow over his sunglasses. "Your rules, might I add."

"No-! Crowley!" He also leans closer to the demon and whispers. "We need to do it. We are not criminals."

"I'm a demon. I guess I can be considered a criminal at some extent."

"You're being ridiculous."

"I'm playing by the rules."

"You're insufferable."

"And yet you still love me."

Aziraphale sighs and closes his eyes, trying to think about a solution, when he hears footsteps approaching.

"Have you finished your dessert, sirs?" The waiter asks, stopping right in front of the table.

"We have." Crowley is quick to answer, and Aziraphale kicks him under the table. He was not done yet, and he needed more time to think about a solution!

"Are you ready to pay?"

Crowley looks at Aziraphale, very serious, and Aziraphale can feel the sweat accumulating on his hands. Oh lord, they had no money. And they just ate a 3 course meal. I mean, Aziraphale ate. Crowley mostly dabbled on the soup and spent the rest of the meal drinking. Drinking quite old and expensive red wine, at that.

Aziraphale looks at Crowley, then at the waiter - who is smiling very politely at them - and then back at the demon. Crowley raises his eyebrow again while Aziraphale starts to shake. He was about to pop when Crowley snorts and reaches for his wallet, pulling a black card and handing it to the waiter, who accepts it and walks away. Aziraphale gasps.

"You had money!"

"Technically no. I had a card."

"A card with money!"

"I never said I didn't have a card. I said I didn't have bills. Physical money. I did use my last bills at the station."

Aziraphale kicks him under the table again, and Crowley can't hold it anymore and starts laughing as controlled as he can.

"Oh, I hate you, you fiend!"

"You've been telling yourself that for 6000 years and you're yet to believe it." The waiter returns with the card and leaves just as fast. "Shall we go back?"

"Yes. But I won't forgive you for this."

"Ah, yes. You. The one that throws 'I forgive yous' through the wind."

"Crowley!"

"Joking. I'm joking." He gets up and Aziraphale follows him. When they get through the door, Crowley offers him his arm once again and leans in closer. A whisper just Aziraphale could hear. "I have my methods to make you forgive me. Just let us get to the hotel, angel."

Alas, the day was not ready to give them a break. On their way to the hotel, it suddenly started raining heavily, soaking both of them to the bone.

"I don't believe this!"

"A little miracle would come in handy right about now, eh?" Aziraphale sighs and snaps his fingers, summoning a tartan umbrella to his hand, which he promptly opens, covering both of them. "Angel!"

"Hush. We can start over tomorrow. Now, let's go." He grabs Crowley by the arm and starts pulling him.

"What's the rush? It's not like we can get sick."

"Someone promised me something when we got to our hotel room." The angel looks over his shoulder to the demon for a second, still walking up the street.

Crowley smiles.

"And you just have to run to find out whatever it is."

"Color me curious."

They did get to the hotel quite fast, and the first thing they did was peel away from their drenched clothes and jump in the shower. Whatever happened in there is between the angel, the demon, and the white tiles on the wall.

[onyxmilk]

Hello! Can you write about spy x family? (I'm obsessed with Loid) where OC is engaged to Loid/Twilight and becomes jealous of Yor.

Sorry, English is not my first language.

Twilight x gn!Reader; "Jealous"

notes; i love some twilight fanfiction, esp because everything is freaking SMUT (last time i checked)!!! we need some sfw ish in here!!! tw; Reader uses They/Them pronouns!, jealousy wc; 1.2k

Twilight and [CodeName] both got married on a whim for the benefits inside their spy company, neither did they expect to actually fall in love and want a proper marriage with each other, but they did! They were one of the cutest couples around, and when they worked together they were the absolute dream team. They would get the mission done and thensome, do some afterwork, clear the paperwork out, the two would go the extra mile to make sure no one had to clean up after them. 

When [CodeName] and Twilight renewed their vows because they ended up falling in love for more than mutual benefits, the two decided to go a little big. [CodeName] wore the most extravagant clothing, and Twilight wore a tailored suit to his liking. The couple held a huge after ceremony, inviting most of the company to join and celebrate their marriage. It may sound uncharacteristic for Twilight, but it was most definitely in character for [CodeName]. 

During the couple’s dance, as they were following tradition, [CodeName] leaned into Twilight and whispered “[YourName],” No explanation aside from a single name that left their lips. Twilight looked confused at first, but then it clicked- [CodeName] was dropping their real name. Twilight smiled warmly, bringing his partner in for a kiss. Twilight had long forgotten his name, but to know that [CodeName] entrusted him with such personal information brought warmth and joy to his heart. Especially on such a special night like this. 

[YourName] didn’t need to know Twilight’s real name, all they needed to know was that the man loved them and that he was accepting no matter what, which Twilight was. They just thought it would be a cute detail to drop on Twilight in the middle of, what the couple considers, their first real dance together as a ‘properly’ married couple. That night, [YourName] and Twilight got home, took off the over-the-top clothing, changed into pajamas, and shared a nice glass of red wine on the couch while watching some old TV shows that [YourName] enjoyed. 

It would be about three years later that [YourName] had to be put on a mission that placed them across the country. With a sadden face, [YourName] said their goodbyes to their husband and kissed Twilight one last time before them and a few other agents were shipped off. Twilight would be out of commission for about a day before he recovered, maybe he and [YourName] needed this split because the two of them were so dependent on each other. 

The two would always reference each other as partners for each other, and because the couple did work so well together and cleaned up after one another without needing a second thought, they did get paired up together what could be considered all the time. Now, sometimes [YourName] would be paired up with another person and other times Twilight would be paired up with a different person, and it never shattered each other. But being away from each other for months really took Twilight aback and he just needed a day to recuperate. 

During the few months that [YourName] was gone, Twilight was placed in charge of Operation Strix, which forced Twilight to find a wife and child. It had been quite some time since Twilight had to fake such an in depth relationship, and without [YourName] here to confirm that it was okay, or better yet have them play the role of his partner, he felt a little sick to his stomach. But a mission was a mission and it needed to be done. 

He wouldn’t get comfortable in his position, but he would get a better understanding of becoming a father in case he and [YourName] wanted children. Every day, when [YourName] was still out on their mission across the country and wasn’t here to call or see him in person at the hospital, Twilight thought about how different the mission would have been going if only [YourName] was around to assist as per usual. For some reason, he felt he’d be further in his investigation. Perhaps because they were truly married and didn’t have to put on some act for the world to see, or because perhaps the two of them have talked about a family before and this would just fill that hole temporarily. 

One day while at the hospital, looking over some papers, Twilight got a call that he was needed in the lobby. He had assumed that perhaps a patient was having a breakdown and needed some comfort from their doctor. Instead, nurses were welcoming a new nurse. “Loid!” His co-worker greeted as they walked over to him, “Have you seen the new nurse? Not to be unprofessional, but smoking hot,” The co-worker laughed but Twilight rolled his eyes while pretending to humor the thought, looking around for this new person. He didn’t expect to see [YourName], dressed in scrubs, holding a cup of juice, and laughing with a few of the other nurses. 

Twilight blinked a few times, a huge smile on his face when he made his way over. A few of the girl nurses giggled before shying away, while the guy nurses simply roamed off to allow Loid and [Name] to talk. “You’re back,” Twilight whispered, half shock and half relief flooding his face. “Mhm, and I’m assisting you on Strix. I’m a nanny on the side.” [YourName] replied in the same whispered tone. Twilight’s heart broke a little at the news, that was the last thing he wanted [YourName] to see; him acting as if he had a wife in front of other people. “I understand, are you caught up?” Twilight asks and with hesitation [YourName] nods their head. 

It would be a few days later that Loid brings up the idea of hiring a nanny to assist with Anya during the week. The nanny would come in the afternoon, help out with homework and study time, then head home around dinner. Yor of course thought the idea was wonderful and let Loid make a list of people, which most were fake just so they had no choice but to hire [YourName]. 

A few days later, it was a Saturday, Loid and Yor sat together on the couch while [YourName] sat on the chair across from them. Yor, to make their relationship look believable to the naked eye, wrapped her arm around Loid’s arm. It took everything in [YourName] not to break right then and there and claim Twilight as their own. They knew that this was for the mission, but unfortunately, jealousy doesn’t understand that. 

The interview went great and Yor agreed with Loid that [Name] should be hired, “Let me walk you to your car.” Loid offered. This was mostly so they could get alone time together before the night ended. “Do you enjoy a clingy wife?” [YourName] asked as they walked out the apartment complex, Twilight was taken aback before shaking his head with a small chuckle- he had never seen [YourName] jealous before and it was quite cute to witness. “No, darling, she simply wanted to sell what people think her and I have. I love you no matter what.” Twilight promised, opening the door for [YourName]. 

[YourName] nodded slowly, smiling eventually. “I want to kiss you so bad..” [YourName] says, “I know, one day soon, dear.” Twilight replied, allowing [YourName] to get into their car and he shut the door before stepping aside and watching [YourName] drive off to wherever they stayed for the night. Twilight hoped that they would stay at their home, so they could be around a familiar setting and smell familiar smells.

He wanted them to be comfortable, for [YourName] is his partner, and they are his.

[psychelis-new]

pick a pile: "What would a tarot reader tell someone about you"

take a breath and choose the photo or number that calls you the most to read about what a tarot reader would tell someone enquiring about you especially if you were their friend, love interest, current/future/destined partner or future spouse (eg. your fs asking a tarot reader about you aka their fs).

i think songs this times should be seen as the enquiring person's thoughts mostly but ofc take as resonates anyway

don’t take the reading too seriously. only take what resonates with you and leave the rest. if you're not called by any pile, let this reading slid as it may not hold messages for you. if you're called by more than one pile, there may be messages in each of those piles. remember that is a general reading and some things may not resonate with you. energies can change and readings are based on present ones (as you read); you're always in charge of your life. Inspired by @pbstarot's reading

(photos found on unsplash)

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1 2 3 4 - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 1

A tarot reader would say that you're very abundant and a good manifestor of your life. You're "golden", a treasure for those who can really find you and see you for who you are: you tend to shy away, probably play down yourself or are a bit introverted/stay a bit on your own. You seem to be good at balancing your life though, I think your introspective nature helps you a lot especially when you deal with anxiety and tough stuff. You may suffer from difficult/transformational times pretty often but you can come out of those as a new person with new found knowledge especially about who you are and your power. This has made you a balanced person. Probably you also have two different endeavours you divide yourself into. You're passionate and hardworking. You probably have a career but you do also volunteer/help others in another way, you can be a reader yourself or be very intuitive/in tune with emotions and have a wide knowledge you like to share with others to give them support and help them out of dark periods. People find you comforting. You're healing your heart at the moment, waiting for the right person to come in but kinda be unsure if they will actually arrive (your person may be smirking at this like "ofc I'm coming, here I am" or kinda opt for a more 18+ thought... whatevs). You may also be pretty romantic and sweet, you're still trying to work through a few fears like trusting the unknown. You have a lot of love to give away, sometimes it feels like you cannot contain it so you may be even thinking about getting a pet or a plant or indeed going volunteering if you aren't yet.

song: you and me | lifehouse

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pile 2

Cheerful person, very well liked in general but also kinda oblivious at times. You don't do it on purpose ofc, it just happens that you get carried away by your emotions, lose track of what is really going on and start living in a fantasy. Maybe you're a bit lonely lately or in an isolation-period in which you're trying to understand yourself a little more. You're probably a bit picky with the people and things you like, but you're aware of that and are trying to change this. It's just that at times, when you get carried away or feel overwhelmed by your feelings and fears, it's not easy to keep calm and keep being determined/hopeful and positive and all. You're a very sunny positive person but when things go wrong, you follow them. You get discouraged, probably kinda easily too. But the moment this happens you have some people around you that can help you see things from the right perspective (or need to find them). You need to communicate your fears and emotions (that's so good). You're probably learning to trust your own guidance too, but you feel better when interacting with others, when having an external support system, be it your person or a group of friends/people you trust. You'll still probably have this need once you will find this person/group, but it won't be too much of a problem cause you're a loving person and it seems everyone loves you no matter what so don't worry too much about feeling needy or difficult, you're not any of these. Anyway, back to the actual reading: the reader at this point may tell this person you'll probably fear being seen as needy and left out so they'll know they only have to try and reassure you it's not so. They seem a very sweet caring person so it won't be a problem.

song: darkside | neoni

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pile 3

You're powerful, determined and fast-paced... I'd say impulsive tbh at least in most of the things you do. Maybe you're in a burnout or doing too many things at once or just stressing over something. At this moment your energy feels very tired, sleepy. You need to give yourself a break. Probably you're not used to gift breaks to yourself so the reader may suggest this person to take the charge when they notice you're worn out and tell you to go to sleep. You probably need someone to take care of you or teach you how to properly do that for yourself. You're not used at putting yourself first, you were taught to put others in front of you. You have a lot of energy that needs to be released... probably cause you got kinda "blocked" or "caged" by others in the past and therefore you still have loads to dissipate from your body. You need to find your own balance, the heart of the matter, both emotional and mental. You may also be overworking or stressing on something without really giving yourself a break to avoid resolving this problem. It feels like you keep postponing this confrontation with your inner self. Probably it feels too scary cause you don't know what you will find there "it's been ages...". I think there's some inner child wound that you left there and try to keep there inside. Whatever it is, you really need to find you ways to slow down so I guess this person will have to help you in this. Also in taking things slow with you or "you'll get burned". You're passionate also as a lover or friend but again you may tend to rush things and/or come to easy conclusions even when it's not good to do so. Too much overthinking, as not having enough time for others and ourselves, can sabotage our lives more than anything. You will make a decision in the close future as in to decide if to keep going this way or trying to work on what you really want. This person seems determined to help anyway or feels like they have finally understood something so they may either not know you or know you already when asking a tarot reader.

song: slow burn | kacey musgraves

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pile 4

Differently from other piles, we're starting from another pov. This person may ask how they will recognize you or meet you, but the answer lays in how you are (or will be). You'll probably choose your person first for who they are. You know what you want and you go after that without giving up too much. You're focused and are indipendent and seem pretty controlled/strong. You're also calm and know how to differentiate illusions from reality. You know how to make yourself happy and who/what can make you happy. Or at least, you're trying to learn that if you still aren't always aware. You're changing your point of view, you're turning into a more powerful being. I think you may be put in front of a choice or be tested to see if you have changed something from your past. There may be problems related to really knowing your worth and what you deserve, and to receiving love, support and appreciation and welcome that, no matter in what forms it can come. Maybe you had dealt with lot of judgement and lies in your past but this too is coming to a conclusion also thanks to the huge work you have done with yourself. You're probably on the verge of moving from this self inflicted pain towards jumping into the unknown trusting yourself and your guts, leaving what you thought you deserved for what you really deserve. You're also probably working with your inner child at the moment, and try to heal them emotionally so to remind yourself of your power and ability to manifest what you desire. Your person is already finding you very fascinating and may already love you/feel attracted to you (maybe you're their "crush").

song: love you too much | lucky daye

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐚𝐥𝐥-𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬.

main masterlist

pairing(s) — bull-rider!MATTHEW TKACHUK x barrel racer!hughes!reader (can be read as an unnamed oc) wc — 1.8k synopsis — wear the hat, ride the cowboy—even if it might get you disowned.

note — there's one line referring to the reader as jack's twin, but no physical description is given. also, this one-shot is a "party favor" from our feb slumber party

specific content warnings under the cut.

cw — quinn being a dramatic, misogynistic douche-canoe 3000 for the entirety (ratty matty has his moments, too), no actual smut but it's heavily implied they do the dirty on the reg, a disgustingly intimate situationship — ick, off-color comment(s) relating to first times and the concept of virginity, lots and lots of familial angst (jack is a snake), oh! and more than a few loose ends... but you know the drill by now, i'm incapable of keeping a story contained

“Go on, Palomino Princess. Ride me like one of your ponies.” 

Condescension drips from the lazy taunt. Matthew earns a palm to the chest for it; her ire lands with a faint thud, but he doesn’t mind. He gets off on riling her up, and after two years of backseat meetings and hushed phone calls, he’s damn good at it too. That, and she might be the most reactive person he’s ever met—and that’s saying something. 

Matthew’s been going head-to-head with all three of her brothers for over a decade, and he’s known their family for even longer. Having a short fuse must be genetic.    

“Y’won’t break me if that’s the hold-up. S’gonna take a hell of a lot more than a dry humpin’ buckle bunny to put me outta commission, sweetheart.” 

He knows damn well she ain’t anywhere close to the derogatory term, but he likes what the complete disregard for her accomplishments does to her deceptively cherubic face. 

It may look less harrowing than every other event on the card, but barrel racing ain’t for the faint-hearted. The event is a death wish personified, and it feels about as good as someone taking a metal pipe to both shins. It takes balls—metaphorically, in her case—to charge into an arena on an American Quarter horse with the intention of guiding it through a cloverleaf pattern around three barrels while sprinting at top speed, but it takes dedication and skill to succeed the way she has. The winner is determined by just thousandths of a second. 

The woman perched on his tailgate is unmatched—undefeated.  

Flames of pride lap at his loins, the fire of desire stoked by the wicked roll of her hips. 

“Ohh—shit!” Matthew hisses, his head lolling back as his hips buck into her heat. 

She smirks, apparently vindictive as ever. “How’s that, cowboy? Everything you dreamed?” 

“And more,” he growls as he grabs a fistful of her backside. 

His grip is tighter than it needs to be as he switches positions. Not nearly as rough as she would prefer it; beggars can’t be choosers.  

Matthew steps between her knees, and, despite herself, she shivers with anticipation. Chuckling, amusement twinkles in his baby blues. “Now give me a kiss, sweetheart. My lips are feelin’ a little lonely tonight, and you happen to be wearin’ my hat, Little Miss.” 

He flicks the brim of his hat. She catches it before it hits the ground before plopping it back on the rightful owner, the damage already done.  

“You just love that antiquated rule,” she shakes her head while most definitely laughing at his expense. “Y’wouldn’t see any action without it, now would you?” 

Matthew grins. Trading insults is his favorite form of foreplay. “Neither would you. Isn’t that your signature move, outlaw?”

“I should kick you to the back of the line with that attitude. Hell, I’d probably be better off keeping you at a distance anyway.” 

“Keep mouthin’ off and see how far it gets ya. Definitely nowhere near that McMansion castle you call home, that’s for sure.” 

“Oh, don’t you worry ‘bout me, sugar. I’ve got plenty of options if I need a ride home.” 

“I’ll bet, show pony. Sexiest can chaser east of the Mississippi; who wouldn’t be chomping at the bit to carry Cinderella home to her Daddy?” 

Men have a habit of gawking at her; Matthew has a habit of relieving them of their teeth. 

He leans in to taunt her ear with greedy lips and barbed arrogance. “Best of luck finding one that’ll fuck you better than me.”     

“Do you think about other guys fucking me often?” she fires without missing a beat.

More than he would like, actually.

With a heavy, drawn-out sigh, he runs a hand over his face. His patience is running thin, and his jeans are starting to chafe. Exasperated, he tries coaxing her to reason, “Sweetheart, c’mon. We both know you want this—want me. Stop makin’ this so damn hard.” 

“Why? Because you already are?” 

Matthew makes an exaggerated show of play-biting her scrunched-up nose. 

“Woman, you drive me insane.”

“It’s why you’re so obses—“ 

Her teasing is thwarted by the sound of her own name. Spat out of her older brother’s mouth like a heirloom gone sour, it's no great surprise Quinn looks at her like he can’t recognize her. Like a stranger—like a traitor. 

Guilt, thin and fleeting, pieces the tenderness between her ribs. 

She squirms, attempting to put some distance between them as if that could erase the discovery—and her culpability—from his mind. Matthew and his shit-eating grin keep her from getting too far but don’t be fooled. This is no chivalrous encouragement to stand her ground. It’s got nothing to do with her and everything to do with her brother. 

Quinn rages outside the hauler housing Matthew’s precious 3500 Laramie. Walking by, seeing the main trailer hitched Brady’s F-350 made his stomach churn. It didn’t sit right, and now he knew why. 

“You can’t be serious! Nuh-uh, no—no fucking way. Get out here before I drag you out myself.”  

At his tone, what little remorse she felt dissipates. They were both far too old for his tired, overbearing song-and-dance. 

“Who died and made you king?” 

Quinn, blinded by overripe anger, sweeps over the irritation, twisting her tongue and the disbelief arching her brow. “I thought I made myself clear last time. Don’t make me repeat myself.” 

“Oh, crystal, Quinny.” Matthew snorts at the juvenile nickname but is swiftly cajoled into silence with a pinch to the side. “Message received.” 

“Then quit screwin’ around and get your ass back to the truck before Dad blows a gasket. He’s been lookin’ all over for you. So, you best be thanking your lucky stars I got here first. That its me catchin’ you red-handed colluding with the enemy.” 

He’s so serious, nearly shaking with rage, it’s difficult not to laugh. She can count on one hand the instances wherein her brother became visibly angry—all of them involving the man standing between her dangling feet. She fares better than him, but that’s to be expected. Unlike her accomplice, for her, there’s real risk involved. 

“Just ‘cause I heard you don’t mean I have to listen.” 

Lips pressed to her temple, Matthew clicks his tongue in approval. ‘Bout damn time she started giving back what Quinn so readily dishes out. 

“Look, y’can spread your legs for anyone with big dreams and a buckle some other night. Parade around the circuit acting like a slut, see if I give a shit. But not tonight. And not with him.” 

The knowing glint in Quinn’s blackened eyes is telling, but it isn’t as menacing as he thinks it is. The Hughes heir apparent couldn’t be judge, jury, and executioner. He doesn’t have a lick of proof. Just suspicion and a personal vendetta the size of Texas. 

A safety net swaying below, Matthew decides to have a little fun. “Whoa, settle down, Trust Fund. Y’can’t talk to a lady like that, ‘specially not your sister.” 

He’s no white knight, but he can pretend. 

And isn’t that what you’re all doing? Pretending to be people you aren’t. Acting out your roles, putting on a show. After all, a performance will always be more entertaining than the truth. 

“—and here I thought etiquette classes were a Rodeo Royalty rite of passage. Glad t’know she ain’t the only roughneck hellion in your family tree, Huggy.” 

Quinn’s jaw tightens. His tongue threatens to put a hole through his cheek. Hands on his hips, the eldest sibling only nods. He ignores Matthew entirely. 

“Real winner y’got there. A class act. You really know how to pick ‘em—cream of the goddamn crop. Say, what’re you gonna do when he inevitably gets bored of you? When he gets his hands on a fresh doe-eyed virgin to tarnish?” 

After she finishes with Matthew, she’s kicking Jack’s sorry ass. 

Those anxieties—and that majorly personal tidbit of information—were shared in confidence. Because unlike her older brother, she trusted her twin. Well, she used to, at least. Luke’ll be over the moon at the chance to be her favorite. 

She bares her teeth like a scorned lapdog. “We’re not kids anymore, Q. You can’t push me around whenever you want or tell me what to do like you’re my father. And you sure as shit can’t bully me into submission, either. Give it up, or get lost.” 

“Whatever,” Quinn barks as he backs away from the trailer. “Your fuckin’ funeral.” 

Listening to the fading sound of her brother’s Ariats pounding through the dirt, she buries her face in the warm, familiar crook of Matthew’s neck; she needs a moment alone. He seems to understand this, his mouth zipped shut as he runs calloused hands up and down her sides. She’s breathing heavily, but he does her the simple mercy of leaving it be. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was growing on you,” Matthew hums, a low-maintenance attempt to lighten the mood. 

They don’t do the touchy-feely BS. It’s one of the things that reeled him in—and kept him coming back. 

“But you do.” She pulls away to look up at him, chin resting on his sternum. He hates that her melancholic eyes are red-rimmed. “—and stop thinking, it doesn’t suit you.” 

“And what does, princess? I’m dyin’ for your insight.” 

“Shut the door and I’ll show you.” 

He blinks, taken aback. Who is this brazen tart, and when did she take your place? Matthew wonders to himself. Maybe he is the bad influence everyone paints him as… He hasn’t really thought about it until now, and it's troubling the way it makes his chest tighten. 

Matthew clears his throat—and, from his mind, the distressing notion that he’s ruined someone good with his carelessness—as he leans over. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

He pulls the hauler’s heavy metal door shut with clamorous finality.  

Matthew Tkachuk might be the most self-serving swindler on dirt, but Quinn Hughes is just another name on his list. A box to tick and then forget. He wouldn’t lose sleep, it wasn’t like their friendship meant a damn thing. Not anymore. A friend turned foe, reduced to another obstacle in his way, a hurdle to jump. 

Tonight, his sister’s fealty; tomorrow, his title.

Retribution is at his fingertips, so close he can taste it. Yet, it would seem that Matthew merely traded one hornet’s nest for another. 

At least this one’s easy on the eyes. 

⤑ to my inbox💌

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[keeksandgigz]

roll for initiative (part two of lessons in alchemy)

barista!eddie munson x fem!barista!reader AU

summary: You venture into your new position at Eddie's cafe, but you seem to be having a hard time. Eddie gives you hell for refusing to be trained. The confrontation comes to a head after you say something you shouldn't have. A heated game of DnD leaves you wondering about the purpose of this place. Things heat up after you and Eddie close the store alone.

cw: 6.8k words, swearing, modern setting, Eddie and reader being mean to each other, shitty description of a DnD game, teeny bit of angst (sorry), horny sexual tension, smut, spanking, choking, not quite piv yet, fingering, denial this is 18+ minors dni!!

a/n: Surprise! One day early because I'm an impatient little shit. i dunno how to play DnD i'm going off whatever my boyfriend tells me. also kill em all IS the best metallica album, argue with the wall. Debated on making it a two- parter but i wanted to get to the smut <3 pls like and reblog! feedback always appreciated and my ask box is always open if u wanna talk!!!

baby taglist: @corrodedcoffincumslut, @sleepy-bunnie,, @crybabyddl (let me know if you want to be added!)

Eddie's right.

You're indeed crashing and burning as you make those stupidly named lattes, but the rest of the crew is nice enough to help you along the way. Virginia really is coming into her own, quickly mastering every drink that is thrown her way.

Yet you can't shake off the feeling of Eddie stalking towards you, his hot breath on your face. How it didn’t scare you, rather, it excited you. You enjoy picking fights with him, ripping him apart and him doing the same to you. It's not healthy, but it helps with your anger.

“Those were three pumps of elderflower. I believe you need four for a large, sweetheart. Crashing and burning so soon?” he comes up behind you, startling you. 

“Get the fuck off of me before I throw this scalding hot drink at you” not when you're working. You cannot take his taunts while working. 

“Just checking up on you” he shrugs “maybe you might have changed your mind about me training you. I know these are not the dumb little detox drinks you do at your cafe. Which is really what makes the store much more interesting and attractive, doesn’t it?” 

“Eddie I swear to God” it becomes more than taunts. He seriously wants to fuck with your brain. 

“Jeff” he snaps his fingers towards the guy “I’m gonna go take my lunch, you’re in charge ‘til I’m back” his attention diverts away from you for a second, then back to you. “Could you be a dear and make me an extra hot flat white with almond milk? Add a couple pumps of Irish cream syrup in there. I’m expecting a white dot, after all if you’re so perfect you don’t need training that’s gonna be a walk in the park for ya, huh?” he leans against the counter and he’s so condescending it makes your knees tremble. 

“Yeah, duh. I’ll spit in it for ya too. Sounds good?” you panic a bit. Flat whites are not your forte. 

“I knew you’ve been spitting in my drinks, sweetheart. Kinda hot, to be honest. But that’s a violation, wouldn’t wanna get Jim involved, do we?” he raises his eyebrows at you, looking down at you, making you feel like a coffee bean on the ground. Kinda hot. 

“I was just joking, dickhead” 

“Hm. Better be. Another filthy word from you and I’m sending you home.” he whispers. “Alright, going on my lunch. Virginia, you’re off you can go home, Chrissy, take your last break in thirty minutes” and with that, he disappears to one of the tables, watching you make his drink.

That should be a form of cruel and unusual punishment. Just him staring at you, making sure you get his drink right. Pull two ristretto shots.

You aren't buzzing anymore, rather, your brain begins shutting off, drained by all the tension that has been building between you and Eddie. Two pumps of Irish cream. Maybe you actually aren't good enough to be here. Froth the almond milk. Maybe he's right, maybe you are meant to work in a mediocre cafe, making shitty drinks. Espresso first, then milk. You aren't good enough for this level of mastery. 

Fuck. No white dot. 

You tremble as you walk towards Eddie, sitting at his table, watching you bring him a cup of mediocre coffee. 

“No white dot” he says, looking at you with displeasure. 

“I’m sorry, I-”he interrupts you.

“You wanna get trained or are you gonna be a little know-it-all and then deliver me this?” he sips on his flat white. 

“Ok, fine. Train me, whatever.”Embarrassment overtakes you, wanting a hole to form under your feet and engulf you. 

He's right, he has been right all along. Tears begin to prick at your eyes.

“You okay there? Y’know I was joking, right? It doesn’t matter I just-” a spark of guilt lights itself in his throat, you look like you're about to cry. 

“Can I take a second?” you say, the knot in your throat threatening to snap any second. 

“Yeah, um go- go take your break” he breathes. Fuck, he's made you cry. 

You run off towards the back, wanting to disappear. Everything that has happened within those past two days begin to wash over you.

Your cafe is gone, the project you had worked on with your dad before he got sick, gone for the next year. And he’d likely not see it reopen.

Eddie being an asshole, holding a grudge on you because you took his customers, making your life a living hell. 

You sit in the back as you wipe some tears that fell from your eyes. Across the room, there's a door that you have not seen before, and it's ajar.

Curiosity gets the best of you, as you walk into a small, secluded room. It's full of beakers and jars of ingredients, really selling the whole alchemist thing. You look through the ingredients elderflower, rose, peppermint, honey, basil. Basil syrup sounds disgusting. 

You turn towards the work bench, noticing a bottle full of clear liquid labeled lavender syrup. You open it and immediately smell the astringent flavor coming from the bottle. You pour some on your finger and take a taste. Ew.

He needs a better lavender syrup recipe.

“The fuck are you doing in here?” Eddie’s voice makes you drop the bottle to the floor, shattering and spilling the astringent liquid on the floor. 

“Oh- shit sorry! I was just- i just got curious” 

“You can’t just come in here and act like you own the place. Curious my ass, you were trying to steal” he accuses, and that hurts you.

“You know I won’t fucking do that, I take my work seriously. Also your lavender syrup tastes like ass, and basil syrup? That sounds foul” you wince, stepping over the broken glass, to make your way back to the front.

He grabs your arm and stops you. “Aren’t you gonna clean that up? Broom’s in the closet” he says, offering you a smug smile. 

“Get the fuck away from me, asshole” you reply, jerking away from his grip. 

“Alright that’s it” is all he says before he slams you against the wall.

He's close. He's so fucking close. 

Your back slams against the brick, hitting a random canvas panel. You can feel his breath on your face, the smell of coffee and cologne inundating your senses. 

“You have been a fucking pain in my ass since you opened your dumb little cafe. You’ve been rude, unruly, untidy and down right mean towards me, and I’m fucking over it” he seethes, he has you caged in between his tattooed arms and all you can think of is tracing every line of his tattoos with the tips of your fingers.

“It’s been four fucking hours, y’hear me? Four hours and I’m sick of you. Y’think you’re cute? You’re a fucking brat, sweetheart, and I don’t like dealing with brats like you.” Your stomach feels funny, like you're taking on a challenge rather than a scolding.

“Clean your shit up and go home, I don’t wanna see your fucking face today. Come back when you have gained some common sense in that empty fucking head” he lowers his arms, but you aren't done. 

“Or what? You think you’re so scary, Eddie, with your stupid tattoos, your fucking stupid hair and your stupid satanic shirts. I don’t give a shit who you are, I’m employed to work here and you can’t fucking send me home because you don’t like me. I’ll fucking report you, freak” 

Freak. His breath hitches at that, years of high school bullying getting under his skin again, making him swallow hard at the unwelcome memory of being slammed against a locker on Monday mornings before class. He stiffens up.

“Alright” he swallows “clean this up and get back to work, I don’t wanna see you right now” you notice that his demeanor has changed, you visibly hit a nerve. Guilt pools at your chest.

“But what about- about the training?” you ask, voice hitching.

“I’ll get Gareth to train you, Virginia should have gone home already. That way we’re both happy. Take tomorrow off, I’ll see you Tuesday” and with that he leaves.

He keeps himself buried in his office until the end of your shift. He can't bear to stand the sight of you, not after you had called him a freak. That stung more than whatever stupid insult you could have flung his way. 

When you turn up on Tuesday, Eddie is nowhere to be found. 

“He took the day off,” Steve says. And you feel real fucking bad. You're scheduled for a mid- shift from three to seven.

“Hey” Jeff says “we’re closing early today ‘cause we’re doing a DnD campaign after. Since Eddie’s not here, would you mind taking over for me so I can start setting up? We close at six-thirty, so after that you can, like, sweep, do dishes and then you can go home” 

You aren't in the mood for a snide remark or a witty comment, so you just agree. “Is Eddie gonna be here tonight?” you ask. You’ve been trying to hound him to apologize for whatever happened the day before, it's clear he's avoiding you. 

He was supposed to be on the schedule. 

“Yeah uh” he replies “he’s our DM, so we kinda need him” he shrugs. 

“DM?” you froth a cup of oatmilk, turning towards him while he's making his drinks.

“Yeah. Dungeon Master?” he gives you a Isn’t that obvious? expression and goes back to his iced hazelnut macchiato. 

“Kinky” you retort, he laughs a bit. 

At six-thirty you lock up the store and you confine yourself to the back for dishes. Keeping an ear out for Eddie’s voice, hoping he’d show up before 7. 

Colette left with Steve to work on the Halloween menu and “I don’t fuck with that nerd stuff” said Steve, fixing his glasses after putting his coat on. 

“…no Henderson you don’t get it “Kill ‘Em All” is definitely Metallica’s best album, are you shitting me? …No don’t come at me with that “Enter Sandman” bullshit you’re so basic for that, you fucking poser” your ears perk up at that. It's definitely Eddie. 

You peek your head out of the back door to see him set up a big table, followed by a bunch of what look like  high school students as they sit down, with their spiral notebooks and pens.

A bunch of small figurines scattered on the cardboard mat as Eddie sits at the head of the table, pulling out a leather bound folder covered in stickers and a cardboard screen. 

They're serious about this.

You're too busy staring at the crowded table to notice Eddie running towards you.

"Daddy didn't teach you it's rude to stare?"

You press yourself against the green tile wall to let him pass, words caught in your throat as you follow him into his office.

"Apparently daddy didn't teach you that stalking is bad either. What is it? Need somethin'?" he spits out and you can feel the venom in his words.

"Yeah, I just" you clear your throat. Talking was hard. He cocks an eyebrow at you as he begins rummaging through his desk drawers.

"Well?"

"I just wanted to apologize for-"

"For being a bitch the other day? Took you long enough" he scoffs as he retrieves a small tin box containing what you assume are dice.

"Um- yeah. I guess that" you shrug and turn your feet to leave the door.

"I need to hear you say it, sweetheart. It's not a real apology otherwise, is it?" he has this ability to make you feel so incredibly small with only the power of his words. Like he's talking to a toddler.

"I don't think that's necessary, Eddie, I mean um- I have to get back to work" you protest.

"You can go back to work when you give me a full apology" he's ticking you off, gloating in his victory of you admitting defeat. The white banner you're waving slowly turning red.

"You're being a cunt, take the apology and go play your stupid nerd game" you snap, and you can see his lips curling in a wicked grin. Challenge accepted.

"All this talk of me kicking you to the curb for your filthy mouth really isn't sticking huh? Sorry sweetheart, can't accept an apology you don't mean" he shrugs, heading out of his office, you follow him suit.

"Eddie what the fuck?! Are you actually mental?" you want to strangle him, shove those dice so far down his throat he chokes and dies.

"I'd recommend you scrub those dishes really hard, I can still see the grime on the blenders. If you'll excuse me, I gotta lead my party through the rivers of Bagodan" he winks and then he walks over to his table, leaving you mortified.

You do a once- over with the dishes, while hearing Eddie's shrill voice screech and laugh every time one of his players miss. What's so fucking funny about a couple kids rolling dice?

"Looks like you've made it to the last river" he narrates in a solemn voice, deeper, hotter "Oh, but what is that? You hear shrieking from a distance. It's a sphynx. To cross the river you have to behead the sphynx and bring it to the king of Bagodan. Only then he will grant you access to the wings of Saurion the Elder, and you... will be... free" he says in a whispered tone.

"What do you do, my brave adventurers?"

"Shit" you hear one of the kids swear, he's tall with black hair. "We don't have enough hit points to kill the sphynx AND get through the king's palace guards"

"You’re astute dipshit, congrats!" says another, a girl, looking much younger than the rest.

"We would have had enough points if Dustin here, hadn't fucking sold his to the market for a stupid cloak" says Gareth, shoving the kid who you assume is Dustin

"it was aN INVISIBILITY CLOAK" Dustin yells. The room booms in laughter at the kid's tantrum.

It makes you think. About how you've never had a group of friends like that. Someone to share a common interest with. Sure, you have Colette, but you've moved to town just fairly recently, and you have lived and breathed work for the first two years. No friends to make when you're cooped up home buried in projects among projects. No friends to make when your dad is sick and you have to take him to the hospital on Saturdays for his treatment. You sigh a bit at that. Maybe your cafe exploding is the catalyst that is gonna bring you a new life, a new perspective.

Coming to a store that has unity as a top value really makes you reflect on how lonely your life has been so far.

"Alright children, let's take a break and you can talk strategy. Anyone want a drink?" He stands up from his chair and walks towards the bar. Startled, you go back to the sink and begin scrubbing.

"Y'know you can join us, right?" he leans against the green tile wall, looking at you.

"Join in on that nerd shit? No, thanks. My shift is over" you say putting the last blender on the drying rack and heading to the back.

He follows you "Okay, whatever. I just wanted to tell you it's gonna be me and you tomorrow. Chrissy said she can't make it. Something about midterms" and you roll your eyes.

"Fucking perfect. Tell me in what world does this shit always happen to me" you say exasperated, taking off your apron, which allows your shirt to rise just enough that it gives Eddie a peek of your tummy. Enough to make him gulp a little. Enough to distract him for ten seconds.

He shakes his head. "Listen, I'm not happy about it either, but let's keep it civil, okay? I do my thing, you do yours, we're outta here by 9 pm" he offers, leaning over the metal lockers.

You're not sure if it was the Dungeon Master demeanor he keeps on for the sake of his game or what, but he feels so tall. The thought of it makes you shiver. You put on your jacket.

"How you gettin' home?" he asks.

"Driving" you lie, your car broke down the day before, but you don't want him offering you a ride.

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow for closing, then" he says, giving you a tight smile.

"Yeah, bye" you respond hastily, heading out towards the bus stop. Eddie keeps an eye on you through the store window the whole time.

Wednesday night at the "Mad Alchemist" is busier than you expected. Steve left for the evening, leaving you and Eddie to man the fort by yourselves.

Meaning you have to watch him flirt with every fucking customer. Young, old, boy, girl. His self assured demeanor is like a magnet to those coffee- hungry teens, the older women just blush and deliver him a meek "aw, stop it, Eddie" swatting the air and giggling.

Because you both have been so busy, it has not given you time to run your mouth and deliver him some snarky comment.

By 8pm, the store is closed. You have an hour to sweep, clean the counters, mop and do the dishes while Eddie counts the money at the register.

There is a tense quietness in the cafe. Almost as if you know that if one opened their mouths the world would explode. Or you’d start fucking, whichever one comes first. There is no noise aside from the register opening, the broom dragging across the floor and Eddie whistling.

After a day of talking, listening, screaming, shouting, the last thing you want to do is hear Eddie whistle. You let him do it, one minute, two minutes, five minutes in hopes he would get tired.

“Eddie, please” you whine.

“Helps me count money better,” he shrugs, beginning his atrocious whistling again.

You wait one, two, five minutes again. The noise of the sweep and the whistling and the money become too much for you, so in an exasperated rage, you kick the chair in front of you.

“Eddie shUT THE FUCK UP!”

The noise of the chair is the only sound in the building. Eddie stops counting, and stops whistling.

He's just staring at you. At the fallen chair. At the broom next to your feet. You find the floor to be really interesting.

“Pick it up.” Eddie’s voice is distant. A few seconds go by, and your eyes are still on the floor.

The sound of paper being put down and the stomping of heavy boots follow, until his boots arrive in your line of sight. You can't help but raise your head.

“What part of ‘pick it up’ does not register in that head? Hm? Do you kick chairs at home?”

Defeated, you shake your head.

“Do you call your daddy names?”

Another head shake.

“Do you spit in your daddy’s coffee in the morning?” his voice becomes a whisper, so, so close to your face. So close to your lips.

“I didn’t-” he cuts you off.

“I don’t appreciate liars, sweetheart. Did you spit in my drink?” he's cornering you, making you feel small.

You nod. “Only once, though” you defend yourself.

“Only once” he mocks, chuckling to himself “sixteen.” he mutters.

“Sixteen is the number of times, from the first time i stepped foot in your goddamn cafe, I’ve seen you spit in my fuckin’ drink” he seethes, no, growls.

“Now you’re fucking lying” you interject, finding a small crumb of courage within you.

“Don’t act cute, I’ve seen you. Pick the chair up” he says, his chin tilting towards the chair on the floor.

“I can’t pick it up if your stupid arm’s in the way, can I?” he grunts and moves his arm. You bend over and picked the chair up, breathing through your teeth. You're furious.

“Watch your attitude, here we don’t-”

You snap your neck around “You’re a fucking control freak, that’s what you are” you mutter. There's that word again. Freak.

“Don’t you fucking dare call me that word again” he's furious.

You turn around to face him. It's your turn to be close “Or what? You gonna spank me?” it's barely a whisper, looking at him through your lashes. A challenge.

He exhales, crossing his arms “You know what? That’s the best idea you’ve had since you’ve stepped foot in this place. Bend over the table” He whispers, and you freeze.

If there is a definition to fuck around and find out, you're it.

“Seems you might be a bit hard of hearing, sweetheart. I said bend over.” he says, more gently, yet keeping that domineering aura to him. He nudges your arm.

You quietly follow through.

“Now you’re following orders. Before I start I need to know you’re okay with this” he whispers, caressing your back in an almost soothing manner.

You nod.

He tuts “None of that shit. I’m not doing anything until I have your green light. With words”

“I-” words suddenly become hard. You swallow and breathe through your nose “I’m- I’m okay with this”

There is no denying you're extremely turned on, in addition to being revved up by your previous fight. It feels like wildfire spreading itself from every tip of your body, finding a home right between your legs.

“Alright, good. If you want me to stop we can stop at any time, just say ‘chainmail’” he says, looking around to check if the blinds had been lowered. He has a safeword. He knows what he's doing.

“O-okay” you say with all the power you can muster.

“You wanna act like a toddler, sweetheart? I’ll treat ya like a fuckin’ toddler” he says, before delivering the first smack right on the meat of your left butt cheek.

You’ve tried spanking before, with previous partners, but this is different. The smacks are calculated, like he knows where to hit. A yelp escapes you.

“Need ya to count” he says, caressing the area he just hit.

“‘Kay, fuck. One” you exhale, still feeling his handprint on your ass. The red hot sting from the impact leaving tiny pinpricks through the fabric of your jeans. 

Smack. Two.

“How ‘bout this?” he stops, speaking to no one, really. “How ‘bout I give you one spank for every time you’ve spit in my coffee, hm?”

That makes you tremble a bit. Sixteen slaps. 

“I dunno if I can, I mean I-” 

“Then you know what to say if it gets too much, right? Say ‘Yes, Eddie, I do’” his voice makes your knees give out as his other hand, the one that isn't squeezing and groping your ass, makes its way into your hair and pulls. 

“Ow- Fuck, Jesus Christ Eddie!” you yell, but the pull at your scalp makes you wish he’d drop the antics, pull your pants down and fuck you immediately. 

“Not what I wanna hear, sweetheart. Try that again” He smacks your ass again, pulling his hand out of your hair to hold your back down from the waist. 

“Three, fuck. Yes, Eddie, I-I do” you exhale and prop yourself up on your elbows. 

“Good girl,” he says. Good girl. He could easily smack you in the face and that is would shock you less. Where the fuck did he learn all this shit?

By the time you’ve reached spank number ten you think you're ready to tap out. Tears welling in your eyes, making your vision go blurry. You're turned on, but Eddie’s heavy hand is becoming too painful.

He notices you trying to squirm away from him with every hit of his hand, all he says is “You know what to say, don’t you, sweetheart?” 

But you let him keep going. Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen.

The last slap feels like the roughest, leaving in its wake the phantom of a heavy hand. His hand rubbing circles on your ass, almost like he doesn't feel ready to stop touching you.

You turn your head around, so you're able to see his face.

“Mmmm, so what now?” you ask, still hazy “Gonna take me home, Eddie? Finish the job?”it's like your brain has forgotten who you are talking to.

“C’mere” he says, sitting you down on the table, your ass rough and sore under the fabric of your pants.

You can feel the slick feeling between your legs through the seam of your black jeans, hoping he’d move you to keep going, take you home, his office, his van, anywhere. 

His body settles between your legs as his hands run through the expanse of your stomach, your back. Your hands make their way to the buckle of his belt, trying to quickly undo his jeans. Eddie inhales as if to convince himself to stop you as he grabs your wrists and pushes them to your chest, his belt left unbuckled “Not tonight,” he murmurs.

You pout in protest.

“Aww, you’re pouting” he mocks, a dry laugh escapes his lips. It brings a twang of embarrassment "pouting 'cause I'm not letting you take my dick in your mouth, sweetheart?" he taunts. 

“I‘m not pouting” you mutter, looking at the floor. His hands grab your chin, lifting your eyes to make you look up at him. He looks so tall standing over you like that, eyes still glossed over, pupils blown from the spanking he’s just given you. 

“You look at me when I speak to you, yeah?” Oh fuck. You know better this time. 

“Yeah” you croak out, nodding your head in case he doesn't get the message. 

“Yeah? You liked getting spanked? Being put in your place?” his demeanor never fails in making you feel impossibly small.

The hand that holds your chin travels down your neck and you lean into his touch, in the way his hand wraps itself around your throat, warm and rough. Who are you to say he isn't gonna strangle you and kill you? 

But the feeling of his hand around the column of your neck, covering its whole surface area feels too intoxicating, like you want him to make you stop thinking. Your breath hitches. 

“You’re lucky I didn’t have my rings on. With the way you’ve been running your mouth you would’ve more than deserved it” his grip on your neck going from resting to actually applying pressure to the sides of your throat. You gasp. 

He just watches you, eyes glossy and desperate while you try to press your thighs together to relieve some pressure. Poor thing. He almost feels bad for you. The way he sees you keen into his touch, labored breath, watching your chest rise and fall slowly. 

“We can’t do this here, Eddie. The health violations” you say,  barely a whisper, mustering whatever breath and thought you can. Your brain feels foggy and fuzzy with the slight pressure of air being constricted. He chuckles. 

“Didn’t you go to UCLA or something? Aren’t you supposed to be really smart?” his tone is mocking, you swallow at the embarrassment, hand letting up on your throat to grab your hand. He isn't here to be soft with you. He is here to make a point.

“Me choking you got you actin’ all dumb already?’M impressed. C’mon get off the table, we can’t be here” he says, making you stand up. 

“Where- where are we going?” you feel winded, and you haven't even done anything. He leads you through the cafe, the bar, the back of house, where the drying dishes sit abandoned on the rack. Right at the threshold to his back office, the cold green tile arch pressing against your back.

“I don’t know, but I really wanna kiss you right now.” and you feel like your breath has just gotten knocked out of you. He wants to kiss you?

"You wanna- huh?" he slams you against the wall, just t prove a point "Shut the fuck up" he says as he puts his lips on yours. Famished, animalistic.

There is no room for gentleness. No room for sweet caresses and soft praises. His hands groping and feeling your hips, grinding into him. The friction against his tattered jeans make a whine escape you. Too much and not enough.

His teeth clash with yours as you both open your mouths, the way he tastes made you dizzy. His mint gum and cigarettes inundate your senses as you pull at the hair tie that is keeping Eddie's unruly hair in place.

Reaching under the mane of hair, you pull at his nape, where his curls are smaller, more defined. He groans.

His nose skims your jaw and licks at the hinge between the bone and your neck, making you yelp. A small oh escapes you when his hands work to untuck your shirt out of your jeans, his cold hands sneaking past the barrier of clothing to touch at the skin of your stomach, the sides of your breasts.

His mouth is warm against your neck, tracing every ridge, every line, every mole, 'til he reaches the juncture between your neck and your shoulder and he bites.

"Eddie, you fucking freak don't bite me" you hiss, head thrown back as he lifts your shirt up, leaving it completely abandoned on the floor.

He moves you off the wall and into his office, mouth not stopping his assault on your neck, stumbling towards his cluttered desk. With one move, a space big enough for you to sit is created. His shirt comes off in the process. His pale chest, skinny, but toned and littered with tattoos, is the only thing you are able to pay attention to.

"I hear that fucking word come outta your mouth again I'll-" he begins.

"You what? More spanking? Consider me terrified" you interrupt, all an evil plan to egg him on. Blinking your eyes up at him. He is seething.

"God, do you ever shut up?" he asks, a groan leaving his lips continuing to kiss you, teeth and tongue and spit, his hands coming out from under your shirt to grab your chin.

You look up at him, hair wild and unruly, eyes blown out, a wicked glint in his eye, almost like he's plotting something.

“Open your mouth” he says, and you looked at him, a puzzled look on your face. He squeezes your cheeks in response, forcing your mouth open. “You fucking brat” he mutters.

You keep your mouth open, expecting his finger, something. Instead, a glob of spit makes its way onto your tongue. He spit in your mouth. You throb.

“Eddie what the fuck-” you begin, but he interrupts you.

“You didn’t seem to mind spitting in my coffee, did you? Consider this a payback. Swallow it.” he smirks against your lips, lightly tapping his fingers on your cheek, not quite a slap. You obey immediately for the first time that night.

His hand travels down to the seam of your jeans, your breath becoming more labored with all the building tension from the night.

“Eddie…please” you whine, arching into his hand, not wanting to pull back anymore. You want release, brain hazy with the feeling of being under him, the way his rough hands are touching you, exploring you, grabbing and groping at the curves of your body as you arch into him.

His hand begins moving back and forth, the heel of his palm making direct contact with the seam of your pants, forcing a strangled whine out of you.

You grind your hips in sync with his hand, as the other sits on your cheek, cupping it, moaning in his mouth at the small amount of friction he's giving you. “Can I take your pants off?” he asks, soft against your mouth. You’ve never nodded so fast in your life.

He quickly makes work of taking your shoes and jeans off, pooled at his feet while his hands caress and grope their way up your thighs.

“You’re cute when you’re not being a cunt, you know that?” he whispers against your mouth, hand ghosting over your panties, practically feeling the heat radiating off of you.

“Fuck you, Eddie,” you say through gritted teeth, motioning to hit him in the chest. He stops you, grabbing your wrists with his hands.

“I suggest keeping that filthy mouth at bay if you really want me to do something about that big, wet patch on your panties, hm?” he whispers, licking your bottom lip, his hand still keeping an iron grip on your wrists.

“How ‘bout you stop being a cunt and fuck me?” you’ve had enough of his teasing and taunting.

“Who said anything about fucking?” he chuckles, his hand moving down to grope at your ass. “No, see, that would be improper, don’t you think? Fucking your boss in his office. You kinky bitch” he delivers a sharp smack down to your ass, reviving the dull sting from the spanking earlier.

“You’re not my fucking boss, Eddie. Stop talking and- ohmygod”

His other hand begins massaging over the crotch of your panties, making direct contact with your clit over the fabric. “Made you this wet from spanking you? Think you might have actually been the freak this whole time, sweetheart.” He hooks his fingers on the sides of your panties “Lift.” He taps your thigh, you immediately lift your hips to let him take your panties off.

He laughs when he sees the mess that he’s made of your pussy.

“Fuck stop- stop laughing” you whisper out while his hands begin to spread your legs further.

“I think you secretly love me laughing at you. You think you’re so tough, bein’ all mean, callin’ me a freak like it doesn’t turn you on just imagining how much of a fucking freak I really am, huh sweetheart?” he skims your jaw with his nose, his words making you shiver as you clench around nothing.

His free hand sneaking its way around your neck, squeezing just enough to make you squeak.

Your hips lift off the desk, looking to find some kind of stimulation aside from Eddie’s cruel teasing touches.

He looks at you through his dark lashes “What is it, baby?” baby. baby. baby. The nickname makes your head spin.

“Eddie, I- fuck- please! I need-” your hips arch off the wooden surface as you feel his fingers prod your entrance.

“You need my fingers? Can you ask me nicely?” you want to kill him. He's reveling in the torture that he's putting you through.

“I f-ucking ah hate you” but you aren't really sure if you believe that yourself.

“You hate me sweetheart? I’m hurt. You won’t mind then if I just leave you here, do you?” he caresses over your inner thigh, the tips of his fingers coated in slick, clear arousal.

“No!” your hips lift once again “your fingers…please” His smile is pleased as one of his fingers enter you.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it? Good girl.” He's making your head spin, a choked noise leaves your lips as he pumps his finger in and out, finally getting the stimulation you need.

“More” you whisper, his other hand still on your throat.

“So greedy. Y’gonna thank me? Say ‘thank you, Eddie’”

At that point you can't even think about acting up. “F-fuck. Thank- thank you Eddie” and with that, he adds another finger.

God, you already feel so full and teetering the edge.

“Good girl. Now that I think about it, I believe you owe me an apology” he begins, his fingers working mercilessly inside you, while a string of breathy ah ah ahs are all the sounds you could muster.

“You were so mean to me the other day, I didn’t appreciate your tone while you were trying to apologize” he taunts, his fingers prodding deeper inside you. A small yelp escapes you.

“You were- you were ah” his fingers curl on your g-spot and your vision goes white.

“What was that? I was what, baby?” he begins to thumb at your clit, smiling like a maniac at the state he's reducing you in.

“Oh yes there” no idea how you're gonna finish your sentence.

“Feels good huh? Needa finish what you were saying, sweetheart, can’t have you going stupid on me just yet” his hand on your throat moves up to your cheek, delivering a couple light smacks to your face. You clench.

“Fuck, uh, you we-were being a oh god cunt” you say, mustering all the mental strength you can.

“Is that right? Funny how my fingers are in yours right now and you don’t seem to complain.” He laughs to himself, his thumb speeding up its assault on your clit.

“C’mon, sweetheart. I just need you to say ‘Sorry Eddie, I won’t be a bitch to you again.’ Can you say that or is your brain too fucking far gone to understand a single word i’m saying?” he teases, which briefly brings you back from the ecstasy of Eddie’s fingers working wonders on you.

“Fuck you, Eddie” you hiss through your teeth, immediately regretting it at the feeling of the coil in your belly beginning to tighten.

“Oh. It’s like that then. Alright” he simply says as he picks up his pace. Head thrown back as you revel in the feeling of nearing the edge of your release.

“Oh shit, get-getting close” you breathe.

“Apologize and I’ll let you cum” he smiles, a wicked show of bared teeth that only makes you both want to punch him and fuck him.

“Fuck n- Oh God- ‘m not apologizing for- for shit” you arch your back, trying to make yourself cum before he changes his mind.

“Fucking apologize” he insists.

“Fuck you” you say, followed by the unwelcome feeling of emptiness as he takes his fingers out. You really thought he was bluffing.

An empty ache grows in your stomach, feeling unfulfilled and disappointed. You sit there in disbelief, as he cleans his fingers off with a tissue.

“Pity” he shrugs “Get dressed, I’m taking you home” he turns around, heading towards the front.

You throw the box of kleenex at his head. You miss.

“You’re a real asshole, you know that?” you jump off his desk, ignoring the dull throb between your legs as you put your panties and jeans back on, following the trail of your clothes he left in his wake.

“Could’ve said sorry” he just says, closing up the register, while you put on your shirt and shoes “C’mon my van is around the back” he offers, grabbing his keys.

“I’m not fucking getting in your car. I can drive” you protest.

“Yeah, uh huh, you and what car, you fucking liar? Saw you at the bus stop the other day, and your car isn’t in the parking lot. You either let me drive or you can sleep in here tonight.”

You let him drive you home. The sound of Judas Priest blaring through the speaker only makes the stubborn silence between you two louder.

The ten minute drive to your house feels like an hour, as you itch to get off the dingy van and take care of what he left unfinished.

He finally parks up in front of your house, you quickly book it towards your door as he shouts “You’re welcome sweetheart” before you fumble with the keys and enter inside. He stays there until you do.

Your dad was asleep already, so you crack his bedroom door to check up on him. You sigh. Everything seems to be alright.

Once all the lights are off, you run towards your room. Still in disbelief of what happened with Eddie, you strip off your coffee- smelling clothes, wincing at the thought of Eddie’s hands sneaking under your shirt, his fingers hooking on the sides of your panties.

The feeling of hatred and arousal battling each other off while you recall his stupid smiling face as he removed his fingers from inside you. The dull empty ache as you came down from the euphoria of his touch and words.

That night, you kick yourself for not saying sorry to him.

[astreia-oniria]

MCL NEW GEN THEORY(S)

But Astreia, surely it's too soon to start making theories! NO IT'S NOT, IT'S NEVER TOO SOON FOR ME.

I've been dying to share this theory(s) since the game came out last week, but my Tumblr wasn't working properly. Now that it's apparently fixed I can't wait to share and see what you all think. Will you agree? Will you think I've gone mental? We'll find out 😂

WARNING: the following text contains spoilers of the first two episodes of MCL New Gen. Do not keep reading if you haven't played Episode 2 (or well you can continue reading under your responsability if you don't care about spoilers).

Let me precede this by saying that this isn't a full-fledged theory. Since we're only two episodes into the game, I don't have enough evidence to back this up completely, so I'm calling it an inkling rather than a proper theory.

My inkling/theory is about Jason, Roy, Devon and how their enmity goes beyond just a professional rivalry. It's kind of divided into two parts or two inklings/theories:

THE FACTS (PART 1: ROY'S ROLE IN DEVENEMENTIEL)

Let's start with what we learn from Roy.

He says he and Devon grew up together, went to college together and decided to embark on a bussiness together (though it wasn't his true calling).

But why would he get involved into something that wasn't his true calling? Was it only because of Devon's influence? Roy says Devon's mother babysitted and he spent quite some time with him back then, so maybe Roy's parents are wealthy and he's the investor or equity partner behind Devenementiel.

When Amanda is telling Ysaline "it's the boss who decides", Roy appears and says "are you talking about me?".

This is curious because he clearly heard what she was saying, but made that jab anyway. Was it possible that he wasn't joking? That he was joking by telling the truth?

After that, he says he's Devon's second in charge.

Yes, maybe Devon put him in that position because Roy is his friend, but that isn't professional if Roy only knows about sport events.

Amanda continues by saying he's wrong and that he's like the rest of the team, but Roy answers by saying "well, not exactly like the rest... well, whatever".

It looks like he was going to say more, like he's refering to not being actually at the same level as the rest of the team.

This isn't a huge detail but he calls Devon "the big boss" and you normaly use that term when there are more bosses around.

He kind of deflects Ysaline's question about wheter he's only in charge of sport events.

He is in the New Palace meeting, something that doesn't involve sports. Apart from Ysaline, the meeting seems to involve bosses/owners (Jason, Devon, the New Palace's owner...) and not team members.

CONCLUSION 1:

I really think Roy is co-founder and co-owner of Devenementiel and that he might be the one who financed the company. I think he's also our boss but he is playing coy about it. Knowing what we do about him, I don't think he likes the normal boss-like relationships with his employees and prefers to be "in the field" with them, being part of their team, and leaving other matters to Devon. That would make sense for a guy with his attitude.

THE FACTS (PART 2: THE HOSTILITY BETWEEN DEVON, ROY & JASON)

Now let's see what we learn from the whole Devenementiel vs. Goldreamz situation:

Roy is extremely upset and angry at anything Jason or Goldreamz.

This might be normal between rivals, but I can't help but think Roy's reactions are too extreme and there seems to be some kind of resentment.

Roy calls Jason "cheater and thief" and specifies that it's not only in relation to Danica.

This is what got me thinking hard about everything, because Roy went too far and if it's not about Danica, then about what could it be? Of course, it could be about Goldreamz getting their deals, but again it reads like too much for a professional rivalry.

Jason refers to Roy as Devon's guardian dog.

Not super important, but I get the feeling that Jason, Devon and Roy knows each other too well, and that Jason says this like it irks him. Could it be some bitterness?

Devon says to the New Palace's owner that "we've crossed paths already" refering to Jason.

This could just be something normal to say, but he doesn't add anything about their paths crossing because of bussiness. So maybe he's referencing knowing each other for a long time because of other motives.

Jason showing up and trying way too hard to get in Devenementiel's way.

It could be for the sake of the story, but isn't it too much? Could there be other reasons behind his behaviour?

CONCLUSION 2:

This is the "inkling" part of the theory, I guess. I have a hunch that Devon, Roy and Jason not only have known each other for a long time, but that they were actually friends. I think that maybe Jason was one of the other kids Devon's mother babysitted or that maybe they met in college, that they started their journeys and careers together. I think Jason and Devon (who are clearly more into events production & management than Roy) had this dream of starting a company and that Roy got on board with their friends so they could all work and be together. And I think something went horribly worng in the process.

I think that whatever happened between them might have been a misunderstanding relating to projects and/or money (hence the cheater and thief comment), something that framed Jason and turned Devon and Roy against him and in turn made Jason bitter about their friends not believing him.

Having this into account, there are a few possibilities that I can think off:

They founded Goldreamz, Devon and Roy left and Jason got the company (another posssible reson for Roy callin him thief), so Devon and Roy founded Devenementiel.

They founded Devenementiel and Jason was forced to leave, so he founded Goldreamz for revenge (and paying the bills obviously).

Everything happened at the early stages of creating a company, so maybe an external investor or something gave the project to one of them (possibly Jason) because they weren't sure about the others, and this was seen as a betrayal.

If anything about my theory proves to be right, then Ysaline will be able to get to the core of this a resolve the misunderstanding, getting Devon, Roy and Jason to make up (not before having us siding with someone and making drama 😂). This could lead to the future fusion of both Devenementiel and Goldreamz and a happy ending for all the characters.

And that's it, that's all. If I see more evidence in future episodes I will update this. So what do you say, have I read too much into everything? Do you agree with my theory or have anything to add to it? Let me know what you guys think.

I think that you should go out more and stop overanalyzing games, Astreia.

[ladyluscinia]

2x08 Reaction #7

Ok, last episode thing in this series I've finally circled around to being pissed about is framing Izzy as a mentor to Edward.

Because what the fuck.

When they had Stede do the whole "taught him everything he knows" bit in 2x05 I thought it was pure flattery, to the point I thought it was wild that Izzy even gave a little shrug like he might believe it. I thought we had established pretty clearly in S1 that Edward was the creative thinker and leader in their dynamic.

Izzy was useful - probably even essential - but he was the support. The tool. Good at the execution.

And he certainly seemed to know this. In 1x04 where they establish their pre-Stede dynamic, Izzy expects Edward to come up with a brilliant plan and tell him what to do. He only doubts him enough to try and take charge at the last possible second, seems mostly aware his own idea is "get shot fighting back instead of sitting and dying", and feels genuine regret for both having to shoot down Edward's first plan and insulting him at all once he saves them in the end.

Because Edward is brilliant. He's earned his place as the leader between them. As Blackbeard.

Which makes it absolutely infuriating that in pivoting him into a "wise mentor" role they have Ricky say to Izzy's face that he was the brains behind Blackbeard and Izzy doesn't even refute it??? Paired with killing him off as the mentor (supposedly), and paralleling him to Auntie as they really double down on the "mentor who has authority over strategy and is proud of you" thing, and the displays of respect in 2x07... it kinda feels like the show is saying Edward learned most or all of his shit from Izzy.

And, like... if they just meant swordfighting and getting an approving nod when he pulled off a complicated disarm that would be one thing, but they kept focusing on things like "brains of the operation" and "how to lead the crew as a Captain" lessons.

And Edward is so much less interesting if Izzy actually taught him how to be Blackbeard, or if he was doing things as Blackbeard for Izzy's approval.

Like I guess I'm glad they didn't flesh it out enough to make the implications fully textual so you can fudge them away from that direction, but they don't really tell you not to read it that way. The man is even giving emotional development advice for fuck's sake. The mentor thing is jarring enough because the authority and respect dynamic really never flowed in Izzy's direction, but it's also putting Izzy in a position where I feel like they are implying he made Edward the man he was for better and worse, and... no. Don't do that.

Stop giving Edward's anxiety-ridden henchman credit for his atrocities - he worked hard on those.

(Plus we literally already know the first authoritative figure in piracy he got round two of Daddy Issues and his fucked up ideas about piracy from. How many symbolic fathers pushing him in dark directions does one man need to kill / be visited by in purgatory / watch die before he can start addressing those???)

[kingsandbastardz]

I'm becoming increasingly convinced that JLQ's clear refusal to believe DFS could even be slightly gay is the one and only reason she didn't try to skin Wuyan alive. Wuyan who, is trusted by DFS, allowed extremely close proximity, and has all the same skills DFS values in her. TBH if there was a possible love rival outside of anyone other than LXY - she should have suspected Wuyan first, before any of the 12 Pillars.

It's sad that we didn't get enough episodes to see a little more of Wuyan for anything, or JLQ for her actual Alliance duties -- but I know enough about what it takes to run operations that I can extrapolate the skill sets needed:

Skills they both have:

budgeting and currency exchange/issues

managerial acumen/ability to organize and move large groups of people

planning

communication at both upper and lower levels

resourcing

logistics

strong understanding of timing, topography, weather and how to deal with issues

stealth

esoteric knowledge for random shit they likely have to source or deal with themselves due to rarity, etc

negotiations

how to present yourself to the public

thorough and systemic thinking

planning for failure

Where JLQ fails but Wuyan succeeds:

ability to anticipate what DFS wants

ability to deliver what DFS wants in the way he wants it

ability to not sexually harass DFS

putting DFS' desires over their own (Whatever Wuyan's feelings are, we have no idea)

Where Wuyan fails but JLQ succeeds:

getting public credit for hitting their kpis

choosing to not be subservient

public leadership / getting public buy-in

It's interesting that with the both of them -- if DFS chose at any random time to just get up and leave Jinyuan Alliance behind -- both would immediately drop everything and follow him.

They're both used to seeing DFS' back - Wuyan because he deliberately positions himself there regardless of what DFS seems to wish (his own show of willfulness). JLQ because DFS is always walking away from her.

And of the two - i feel like DFS would likely take Wuyan with him, while leaving JLQ in charge of the things he doesn't care about.

So yeah. I'm still surprised Wuyan wasn't killed before DFS came back from seclusion. It's pure speculation but maybe his outward presentation of being a servant is the thing that saved him. Why does he play a servant when DFS himself is like, "You do know I think you're supposed to be standing up there with the higher ranking ppl, right?" Is it from a sense of distrust of everyone, leading him to create a persona? An emotional need to serve DFS? A not-so-secret kink? A sense of loyalty that he feels he can only express in this manner?

Just what history do they share that DFS feels comfortable enough to cry in front of him? Twice. Both times while mourning LXY/LLH.

I have so many questions.

[t0rturedangel]

still the same person who sent asks for jnh,, can i request a sfw and/or nsfw headcanons for hyde himself? i adore the little menace so much <//3

p.s. i could be your 🦋 anon

╭ . . . 𝙰 𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 ੭

𝐌𝐑 𝐄𝐃𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐇𝐘𝐃𝐄 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 ♰ ৎ﹕𝘴𝘧𝘸 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘴𝘧𝘸 𝘩𝘤𝘴

I'M KILLING TWO BIRDS WITH ONE STONE, someone requested this exact same thing so WOOO!!!1!!!1111!!!!!!1!11111111 AND OFC YOU CAN BE THAT ANON !!!!!!

𝘴𝘧𝘸

✧⠀⨾ Hyde doesn't know how to show affection at all, i mean the man is made out of Jekyll's even more twisted side can you blame him?

✧⠀⨾ be patient with him, teach him how to love, he doesn't know- he was never taught how to care.

✧⠀⨾ He may not show it at all but he sure as hell appreciates all the gifts you give or make him, he keeps them in his house because he knows no one will go there (little does this guy know), especially Jekyll

✧⠀⨾ speaking of Jekyll, Hyde will hide your relationship to him- Jekyll doesn't need to know because Hyde is sure that Jekyll did know, he's be trying to convince you to leave. Hyde cant live without you- not anymore

✧⠀⨾ you're the only person who cares about him and his well being, you aren't revolted by him when instead you show affection to him: something he was against at the start since he felt as if he was going to go ape-shit

✧⠀⨾ but when you first hugged him and held his hand the man went mental, not in the sense of killing you but he suddenly realized that he craved your touch, and only your touch if anyone else tried to touch him they'd be on the floor- bleeding out.

✧⠀⨾ he likes to steal stuff for you, as a thank you for all the stuff you give him

✧⠀⨾ If the police or anything links you to him and try to hurt you- he isnt afraid of getting a few more murder charges, Jekyll is though.

✧⠀⨾ sometimes, most times actually, Hyde forces Jekyll to thinks of something immoral so Hyde can see you- you do scold him for it sometimes, because w t h Hyde? Let Jekyll live for at least a little bit.

𝘯𝘴𝘧𝘸

✧⠀⨾ unlike Jekyll, Hyde is rough in bed- that's the 'primal' side of him. Though if you tell him to tone it down- he will, trust me

✧⠀⨾ very willing to experiment in bed too! You wanna try a new kink you heard of? sure!

✧⠀⨾ Though of course, this man is the embodiment of evil, and a Victorian man so he (Just Like Jekyll) takes sex a bit too seriously, though there isnt much that is in exchange for it- maybe his aftercare?

✧⠀⨾ he is a very VERY vocal man, though no moans for whimpers or anything- just gruffs and praise and or degradation even if you're the one doming which is rare

✧⠀⨾ speaking of, this man is the biggest dom ever- he may not have the stature but he sure as hell is one, he's got the stamina, he's got the strength, he's got the speed.

✧⠀⨾ though he is very rough usually, he can and will be gentle if he knows you need it, he can tell if you're having a rough day and just needs some love.

✧⠀⨾ his aftercare is golden, he takes care of you- brings you a drink, gets you a duvet and lets you rest on him or wherever you want, he lets you calm down before getting you some food if you're hungry or if you fall asleep he'll make sure you're in a comfortable position in his and your bed before going to sleep too- or he'll guard the area

[sissylittlefeather]

Hi friends! I wrote another fic. I'm just churning these out right now because I'm obsessed 😂

You really have to suspend reality for this one. Like, just let your imagination have at it and try not to think about how it would actually work out. Also, it's based on a scene from the movie, so it's probably more Austin!Elvis, but you could pretend it really happened with EP if you wanted to. The world is your oyster. Dream on.

This is a continuation of Baby What's Your Name?, but you don't necessarily have to read that one first. Basically, all my fics exist in the same timeline with the same Elvis & reader characters.

Warnings: F/m p in v, fingering, unprotected sex, public sex, cops?, smut, cussing, MINORS DNI 18+

Summary: this takes place after the riot at the Russwood Park show in the Elvis (2022) movie. Austin!Elvis x reader (y/n). You've come to comfort Elvis after they shove him in the cop car.

Always, Honey

You sit and watch in horror as the police officers drag Elvis from the stage. He's finally done it. He's gone too far and the people in charge stepped in. For a minute or two, you sit there in shock at what's happening with your hand covering your open mouth.

You need to get to him, but you know it won't be easy. You're not there in any official capacity. His parents don't know about you. The Colonel has suspicions that Elvis has been seeing someone, but he doesn't know who you are. No one knows that you've been with Elvis every time you could since that first night together when you threw your panties on the stage. What started with lust has turned into a relationship and you realize right now in this moment that you love him. Your worry for him makes that clear. You have to find a way to get to him.

You shake off the shock of the moment and stand up. You were sitting toward the back of the concert, so you can see the squad car at the back of the ballpark. That's where they will be headed. You take off in that direction, away from all the other fans who are running toward him. You make it to the car. As you stand there trying to decide what to do next, you see the crowd coming through the gates, and the officers dragging Elvis are at the center. He's yelling to his parents to get in the car they're being taken to, trying to keep himself clear of policemen and fans alike. You pretend to be just another fan as they shove him in the backseat and close the door. You're standing on the other side of the car when actual fans press in around you, screaming and grabbing at the car. You manage to get your face down to the window and knock on it, just praying that he'll look over in your direction. You pull on the door, but it's locked. You knock again on the window and yell as loud as you can, "E!"

He hears your voice amidst the chaos and turns, seeing you in the window. There's no one in the front seat yet, so he's able to unlock the door and open it just enough for you to slip into the backseat with him. He pulls you close to him and grabs your face with both hands.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, E, I'm fine. Are you okay?" He relaxes a little, knowing that you aren't hurt.

"Man, that was... I'm pissed, but yeah, I'm not hurt or anything." He pulls you in for a kiss. He's dripping in sweat, but you don't care. This isn't the first time he's kissed you after a show. Usually you're squeezed somewhere backstage together for a quick moment before he's whisked away to wherever he's supposed to be post-performance.

Just then, though, the front doors of the car open and the cops slide into their positions on the front seat. The one in the passenger seat turns to look back at Elvis, glaring with a hatred you've never seen before. Elvis glares back with the same intensity. It takes a minute for the cop to even realize you're back there.

"What the hell is she doing in here? Get her out! You can't have a damn fan girl in the backseat when you're getting arrested!"

"IF SHE GETS OUT, I GET OUT." Elvis yells. You can see his hands shaking with rage. "SHE IS NOT A FAN. SHE IS MY GIRL." Your head whips around and your eyes lock on him. That's the first time he's acknowledged what you might be to each other.

The cop opens his mouth to yell back, but the other officer cuts in.

"-- you can't open the door right now. There's too many people out there and we need to go. She's going to have to stay where she is." He drives off slowly, careful to not run over any of the fans who are mobbing the car.

"Well... just... don't touch her." The passenger seat cop growls at Elvis, who defiantly throws his arm around you.

"I'll do what I damn well please. What are you gonna do? Arrest me?"

The cop's face goes beet red and he turns around in his seat to face front. Elvis plants a kiss on the side of your head and apologizes quietly.

"I'm sorry about all this, honey." He's got one hand around your shoulder and the other on your thigh. You look up into his eyes.

"Your girl, huh?" You try to keep your smile from giving away the elation you feel in your heart. Yep. You absolutely are in love with him. He gives you a soft smile.

"Yeah, baby, that alright with you?"

"Yeah, if that's what you want."

"If it means you're all mine, then it's what I want, kid." Your heart flip flops in your chest.

"And are you all mine?" You shouldn't have asked that. You know he belongs to his fans. You prepare yourself for him to say no without saying no.

"Always, honey." He leans in to kiss you again, this time with his lips parted. You let your tongue explore his as you turn toward him and move your legs across his lap. The hand that was on your thigh moves back to your hip as he pulls you in to him as close as you can get without straight up straddling him. He leans you back in the seat until he's on top of you.

"E. There are COPS in the front seat." You whisper with your teeth gritted. You feel the desire starting to build up between your legs, but you know this cannot happen here.

"I know, honey, I just want to make my girl feel good. Can I do that?" Your resolve melts. Let the cops watch, for all you care in this moment.

He sits up and slides his hands up under your dress, pulling your panties down your legs and over your shoes. You feel his hand crawl back up your thigh to your center. He uses his thumb to make circles on the spot that drives you so crazy. Then, he dips his fingers into you, where you're already wet and waiting for him. He uses some of your wetness to lubricate what his thumb is doing. It gets harder and harder to stay quiet as he works, so you bite your bottom lip and close your eyes.

"Damn, baby. You look so good right now." He whispers, not stopping what his hand is doing. Your heart is beating so fast and your breathing is heavy. You know your climax is coming and you're just praying that you'll stay quiet and the cops won't turn around until after you finish. He moves his thumb faster and faster, his fingers rubbing against your inside spot. You let out a small whine as the waves of ecstasy ripple through you. You look at Elvis and he smiles as he feels the throbbing and wetness on his fingers.

Almost on cue, the cop in the passenger side turns back to the backseat as you arrive at your destination. You shoot up in your seat and Elvis clears his throat, pulling his hand from under your skirt. You can't tell if the cop is clueless, or if he's just ignoring what happened so he doesn't have to talk about it. The driver pulls around to the back of the police station to avoid any press that might be gathered at the front.

"We have to go inside and get things arranged to bring you inside quietly. Arresting a movie star is harder than you think. Young lady, come with us." You start to move toward the door, but Elvis grabs your hand.

"I told you, officer, if she gets out, I get out. She's staying with me." He says it with so much authority that even the cop relents. He closes the door and both officers walk up to the back of the building. The second they're out of view, you turn back to Elvis and undo his pants, freeing his erection.

"Honey, what..?" He looks at you puzzled until he figures out what you're doing. He whips his head from side to side looking out both windows for paparazzi or cops or anyone at all while you hike up your skirt and straddle him. As you slide down onto him, your eyes meet and you moan in unison. You know you probably only have a few minutes, so you work fast, bouncing on him vigorously.

"Oh shit, baby." Elvis groans into your ear as his pleasure is released. Between the build up, watching you orgasm, and the thrill of maybe getting caught, he didn't last long at all. You push his wet hair back off of his sweaty forehead and kiss him. He's about to apologize for coming so quickly when you notice the cops coming back out. You jump off of him and sit back in your seat while he puts himself away and wipes off as much evidence as possible.

"I hope it's kinda dark in there." He laughs and holds your hand as the cops open his door. He turns back to you and gives you one last kiss.

"I'll see you soon, baby." They take him out of the car and cuff him as the other officer helps you out of the car. When you get inside, they let you use the phone to call Margie to come get you. It's not until you're in her car that you realize you've left your panties in the cop car. You giggle. Another pair of panties lost because of Elvis Presley...

[galraluver]

Royal greetings honey, (sorry) it's me again

It's 2 a.m., and I had a crack-idea: do you know these period belts that simulate period cramps??? How would galran men react to the pain?

Imagine some merciless, strong warriors laying on the floor like a shrimp, I'm crying

Thank you darling, good night!

Oh yes, I know what they are. I've watched a few videos of men trying them and it's hilarious 😂. I would be happy to write your request 😁

_________________________________________

~ Throk ~

~ Every month when you get your period Throk scoffs when you're in pain; he doesn't necessarily mean it in a mean-spirited way, but he doesn't see how you can be so affected by what he thinks is just a little pain

~ After a couple of months of him downplaying your pain you buy a period cramps simulator from the space mall

~ Throk scoffs again when you challenge him to see if he can stand feeling how much pain you go through, luckily he's always up for a challenge

~ Before you two start you try it on yourself to see what setting is closest to what you experience every month

~ Then it's Throk's turn to put the little patches on his lower abdomen

~ He really does think that the pain won't be all that bad, galra are capable of withstanding all kinds of pain

~ *cue to Throk laying on the couch looking like he can withstand anything*

~ You start off with the first two settings which aren't so bad, Throk still has a cocky grin on his face thinking he's right about you overreacting every month

~ That's when you turn the dial up to the setting that matches your monthly cramps

~ Throk practically yowls in pain when he feels how bad it is, he's never felt anything like it before

~ He's never felt so much pain in his lower abdomen before and while the controls are on it doesn't end, instead it keeps coming in what he can describe as waves

~ He nearly rolls off of the couch in the process, thankfully he doesn't because he doesn't want the little wires to get damaged

~ Tries to keep a straight face after that but fails, Throk is willing to tough it out even though he wants to curl up in a ball and cry

~ However, as soon as you turn the dial up to the highest setting Throk begins to actually cry because the pain is so bad

~ He curls up into a ball as much as he can because he wants to find a position that eases the pain just a little bit; he doesn't find one, though

~ How are you able to survive such pain? And every month? He legit feels bad for criticizing you for something you can't control

~ Needless to say Throk has way more respect for you after he feels what you go through every month and he never complains again, instead he takes care of you every time you get your period and makes sure you're as comfortable as possible

__________

~ Ranveig ~

~ It's no secret that Ranveig's one of the toughest galra commanders in the entire galra empire, it's why he's in charge of one of the most dangerous territories, although because he's so powerful he thinks that he can withstand anything

~ He doesn't necessarily downplay your pain when you're experiencing period cramps, although he's definitely thought that you were overreacting during some of your worst periods

~ When you both come across a period cramps simulator at the space mall you decide to buy it so that you can see if your significant other can actually experience cramps without being affected

~ Ranveig agrees to try it the next day because he doesn't think it'll be so bad, little does he know what he's about to experience

~ You try it out first the next day so you know what setting is closest to what you feel on a monthly basis

~ Ranveig sits on the couch when you stick the little patches to his lower abdomen; he looks so confident and you're ready to bring him to his knees

~ He doesn't feel the first two settings but he feels a little bit of the third one and says it tickles

~ That's when he gets cocky and subtly mentions how human women are weak

~ You get angry and turn the dial up to the highest setting without warning him first because you're pissed, if he thinks that human women are weak for suffering from period cramps then he has another thing coming

~ Ranveig's eye widens and he actually squeals when he feels the pain rippling through his lower abdomen in waves, he never expected the pain to be that bad

~ Believe it or not you actually bring Ranveig to his knees, he slides right off of the couch so he can sit with his legs folded beneath him while he slouches in pain

~ He can't even talk because the pain is so bad, he legit regrets saying what he said

~ Like, imagine Ranveig curled up while failing to work through the simulated version of the worst period cramps in the entire universe

~ When you think he's had enough you turn the dial to zero and kneel down in front of your large boyfriend/husband

~ Ranveig apologies as soon as he catches his breath, then he admits how wrong he had been for thinking period cramps weren't painful

~ From then on Ranveig has the highest respect for human women, he believes that anyone who can go through all that pain, bleeding and other highly unpleasant symptoms must have some kind of incredible power

__________

~ Branko ~

~ Branko can be pretty cocky and thinks that he can handle anything, but unlike Throk he doesn't downplay your pain every time you get your period

~ However, he doesn't think it's all that bad and that he could easily handle it

~ That's when you order a period cramps simulator; if your significant other thinks that he can handle period cramps then you want him to prove it

~ Branko thinks it's cute and kind of hilarious when you dare him to try the simulator, since he thinks that he can handle it he humors you by agreeing

~ He has to wait for you to read the instructions and try it out so that you know which setting comes closest to what you experience every month, then you detach the patches from your lower abdomen and stick them on his

~ He barely feels the first two settings, although he starts to feel a little something by the time you turn the dial to the third

~ Branko wonders why you make such a big deal about your monthly cramps until you turn the dial up to what your cramps are like when you get them

~ You smirk as he grits his teeth together and assures you that he's fine even though he's obviously in pain

~ Since you sort of get satisfaction from proving your point you slowly turn the dial up a few more notches

~ Branko can tell that you're enjoying yourself; he's kind of proud, but at the same time he's in more pain than he originally thought he'd be in

~ The sudden burst of pain at the beginning was a whole new sensation to him, although the way the cramps increased with each turn of the dial had him writhing in pain on the couch

~ By the time you have the dial on the highest setting Branko is forcing himself to stay seated on the couch while tears spill down his cheeks, he never imagined that human women could experience such pain

~ In the end Branko learns his lesson and thinks that all human women are tough in order to be able to deal with their periods every month

~ After the whole ordeal he needs a few minutes to recover; in the future he makes sure to take care of you better when your period comes, it's the least he can do as your boyfriend/husband

__________

~ Lotor ~

~ Lotor understands that people of every species has to deal with some kind of reproductive organ related bodily function at some point during their lives, so naturally he knows you're not overreacting to your period cramps

~ In order to better understand what you go through every month Lotor orders a period cramps simulator

~ When Lotor proudly tells you about his most recent purchase you're a little speechless; on one hand it's sweet of him to want to understand what you go through, but on the other hand you feel bad for what he's about to experience when it comes in

~ On the day the package gets delivered to his ship he puts Acxa in charge while the two of you head straight to the habsuite you both live in

~ His generals already know all about the period cramps simulator, so they know not to disturb you and Lotor

~ Lotor thoroughly reads the instructions before you test it out first, that way you know what setting is closest to what you go through every month

~ When it's Lotor's turn you stick the patches on his lower abdomen and stand in front of him, and you make sure that he's ready before you turn the dial on its first setting

~ Lotor's body jerks and he lets out a loud gasp when he feels the first twinge of pain, he assures you that he's fine though

~ You apologize and asks him if he needs to to stop, but Lotor reassures you that he's fine

~ As you slowly turn the dial up to the level that matches your monthly cramps you notice how your significant other is on the verge of crying from the pain

~ Lotor's never experienced pain in such a way before, he respects you even more now than before, and he's always respected you

~ The way the pain wracks through his lower abdomen and the surrounding areas has him gritting his teeth and squeezing his knees as he tries to keep himself upright

~ He doesn't even make it to the highest setting before he has to stop, the waves of intense pain are too much for him to bear

~ Cuddles are ensured aftwards; Lotor always cuddles with you when you have period cramps, so you do the same to comfort him after he experiences them for himself even though they were only simulated

~ Lotor decides to use the period cramps simulator as an interrogation tool in case he ever needs it, that way he doesn't have to result to violence to get the answers he needs if the situation ever presents itself

[prof-ramses]

A Mammon Analysis Written By A Mammon Kinnie! :8D

It's time to make y'all love this magnificent bastard even more than you already do so we can finally have something just happen in this fandom!

First off, the analysis.

A lot of people seem to think of Mammon as "dumb" or "oblivious", when he's far from either. Mammon is actually a very intelligent and attentive person, but just like most subtle things about him, it can be hard to notice because of his eccentricities.

As far as I see it, Mammon views everything he does as an investment to some extent, whether it be a literal monetary one or one of time, effort and/or attention. This is also one of the big things that make him so relatable to me. It's also worth noting that as a flipside to this, he also sees any option he's presented with in terms of physical or emotional value and trying to maximize said value as much as possible.

Mam doesn't interrupt "Two Minutes Notice" not because he's stupid, but because insults don't truly detract from the value of him or anything he has, not to mention the fact that he could tell that a lot of people would be willing to buy the song, just look how many are hanging of Fizz's every word when he describes having a crappy boss.

Likewise, criticizing Fizz's weight is something Mam solely does because it helps profits and has no genuine personal issue with Fizz potentially getting chunkier.

This shows something else interesting about Mammon, he doesn't really want to do destructive things, people just keep giving him every reason to do so, he's not dangerous on his own.

Every action Mam takes that makes Fizz uncomfortable is a direct result of him catering to what the consumers want, whether it be religiously watching his spokesman's weight for the sake of keeping the skinny sex-bots accurate, or forcing a mentally unstable person to spend a lot of time socializing to get people to pay admission for a meet-&-greet.

There's also the fact that he runs Greed in such a way that benefits Hell as a whole way more than Ozzie and Bee do. Admittedly, he over charges for his products, but said products are up to snuff, you'd expect him to peddle cheap junk that falls apart almost instantly, but no, he makes quality products and just charges extra. He really is a shrewd businessman when you get down to it, and that's something a lot of people have sadly overlooked when discussing our favorite spider.

Which brings me to my next point, Mammon being a spider is actually really clever, assuming what I'm about to describe was intended and not just me reading too much into a cheap Australia joke. Spiders are often shown as eerie and a way of reminding the viewer of a piece of media that nature can be scary, and though they do some really weird and freaky stuff, that's also the beauty of spiders. They have some of the most innovative and distinct hunting patterns in nature, they're more of a neutral presence, just like greed itself.

I've seen many people claim in their analysis of Mammon that "greed can't be good" which is just demonstrably untrue, greed is really just any action that prioritizes bettering oneself, it's only destructive if you are willing to be destructive, but even then it can lead to innovation and broad positive change, even if someone is worse off because of it.

Lastly, I want to discuss Mammon's obvious need for personal affection, the big guy is blatantly touch starved and craves a close connection, I have a rather headcanon-y idea about the origin of this behavior and I plan to link to it once I post about it in detail, but that can wait. However, this does reflect that idea of value and investment, Mam has yet to find someone who is both pleasant for him to be around and whose company has a reasonable "price". I see many possibilities for exploring this facet of his characterization and look forward to seeing the discussion about it grow.

Stay tuned for my HCs and theories about his Stinginess! ALL HAIL MAMMON!