#men gotta be humbled you don’t get to touch my friend like that

[missworld1994]

i hate men i hate men i hate men i was at the club with my friend and two men came to us EW!!!! they wouldn’t stop flirting with us and when one them started touching my friend’s arm and i can’t even explain how angry i got i had to yell at them

[sweettodo]

I have a smutty request if you want ... Just...hate sex with eren 👉👈 bc I'm so disappointed in him right now but I still need him

hate sex with eren ? god i’m in love please. also i didn’t read the manga so no one tell me what’s happening.

includes : public sex, drunk sex, consumption of alcohol.

wc : 700 MAYBE

bye bc this is a whole ass one shot.

music blaring, colorful lights illuminating the club as your heals stuck to the ground from spilled drinks. loud music vibrated your whole body as you danced for what seemed like eternities.

not worried about the tab, or the time- you were finally happy after a week of work and school, with your friends getting loaded in a packed, sweaty bar, where you walked back and fourth towards the bartender to throw back more shots.

while you awaited another set of shots, a hot torso is pressed gainer your back, not even bothered, nor even thinking about it, the club was packed- bodies were apt to touch.

“jean,” you sung cheerfully, cheeky smile on your face as he returns the look, seeing your friend at the bar.

connie comes over beside his best friend, eyes bloodshot, face red as he drunkenly trips over his own feet, drink spilling from his hand and dripping down to the floor, “so you’re the one who made the floor sticky.”

you hadn’t quite registered eren’s name being slurred out of jeans mouth, but before you knew it, the tipsy jaeger is staring at you with a judgmental glare, disgusted look on his face, you see him and immediately recognize that this was your time to leave this situation and he’s towards your friends. connie quickly putting a stop to your attempt at fleeing and grabbing your wrist, pulling you into his chest.

“awh, c’mon, it’s just eren! y’know him!” connie throws his head back and laughs, you look away, eren cockily standing with his hand in his pocket and a beer bottle in his other.

“don’t really feel like it, she’ll just ruin the fun, let’s go.” eren’s beginning to walk away, heading towards the opposite direction to evade his friends request.

with eren being in most of your classes, it took no more than one week to develop an intense hatred for him, always flaunting and pretending he’s someone important, and he hated that you humbled him.

before you know it, you’re stumbling towards the bathroom alone, finally being able to escape jean and connie, the alcohol flowing right through your veins, stomach hot, the urge to pee uncomfortably sitting in your bladder. you’re using the wall to guide you as you search for the ladies room.

“lost?”

eren’s there, you scoff and push past him, “get outta’ my way,” you sneer, opening the first door you see.

“that’s the men’s room, y/n.” you open the door, heals scraping the floor as you didn’t care where the fuck you were, “i’m not trying to babysit a drunk ditz tonight, not what i came here for.” he complains, grabbing you by the shoulder and pushing you further into the men’s bathroom.

“then don’t, i gotta pee,” opening the first stall you find, locking it and lifting your dress, “hey, and by the way eren, don’t be so fuckin’ full of yourself- sobering me up with your attitude.” you grumble, wiping the smeared makeup from under your eyes.

“maybe don’t get shitfaced in a public place- and clearly you’re not sober, i found your other shoe.” he speaks throw the stall.

you blink a few times before stupidly looking down at your feet, “hand it-”

he slides it under the stall, you slip it on and stand up, fixing your dress and flushing with the flat of your heal, “-got a lot of nerve,” you utter, opening the stall and colliding with the man, he backs up, his hands instantly finding your elbows to stable you.

eren was just as drunk as you, his eyes low and watery, he was dizzy, you were dizzy, god knows what came over him when he found his hands placing themselves on your waist. you looked at him and shook your head, moving away and washing your hands, “how ‘bout a thanks?”

“kiss my ass.” you spit, looking at him through the mirror, he looks displeased.

“i would never.” he cackles, you furrow your eyebrows, borderline offended by his comment.

you go toe to toe with him, sticking your finger right into his chest, “what’s that supposed to mean?” you would not be arguing about something so childish if you were sober, but you were angry, seeing him stand there ever-so-prissy.

“you wouldn’t?”

“nope, not even if you paid me,” he smiles, “why? want me to?” he slurs, leaning down to meet your face, you shrug.

“sounds like you don’t want to.”

you slowly back away, heading towards the back of the dirty bathroom, where the largest stall sat, “you’re such an obnoxious drunk.”

eren chugs down the rest of his drink, tossing it in the garbage before following you towards the stall, “i’m annoying? so then what are you?” you laugh, he locks the stall behind him, the pool in your panties growing- has to be the vodka.

what had washed over you? the sudden urge to rip off the mans clothes in front of you was more than overbearing, and apparently- he felt the exact same way.

his hands finding the hem of your dress and lifting it up over your ass, your heals slipping off your feet as he’s lifting you up, legs wrapping around his waist as he’s unzipping his jeans and pushing them down. your lips clashing, teeth knocking kiss as your hands grip his back under his shirt.

he pins you against the cold wall, pulling away from your lips as he wastes no time to slide his throbbing cock into you, holding your panties to the side as you both let out a groan. your head pressing against the wall, he picks up your hips and slams them against his own, drilling into you.

“good pussy for such a loud mouth.” he gasps, mouth falling open as he ridicules you with his dick inches deep inside you.

you wrap one arm around his neck, pulling yourself closer towards his face, “shut up and make me cum, jaeger.” you demand, gripping his t shirt, the smug look on his face undeniable, “-keep makin’ it about yourself.” you clench around his cock, his grin widening.

“says the one who just demanded me to make her cum.”

he looks down, your pussy gushing around him as he sees his cock fill you so nicely, stretching you out- god he fucking hated you, but there was something about this cunt.

he can see your messy face, jaw locked open, he easily bounced your body on his cock, hands white-knuckling your waist as he chased his climax, grunting. you gripped him tighter, body spinning as you inched closer and closer- the man who you shared a mutual hatred with was filling you, tip easily hitting your cervix, screwing your eyes shut.

“fuck- gonna’ cum,” you open your eyes, he’s staring at you, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, cunt twitching around his cock, stomach tightening, pleading look on your face.

“shut up.” he grits, thrusting harder into you, little groans falling from both your tongues as you’re creaming all over his cock, rocking your hips, he allows you to do so, feeling your legs quiver and your hole twitch and suck him in deeper.

he finds his head falling, sucking in air as he pulls out, releasing his warm load on your pelvic bone, the both of you struggling to catch your breath.

“clean it up.”

“don’t tell me what to do.”

[ineloqueent]

Hello! I would like to ask for fluff with Joe since you haven’t written for him yet. How about Joe dating/flirting with someone way more quiet and shy than him? A shy! Reader

here’s some fluffy joe for you! i’ve made y/n into a bit of a bookworm, because i’m a bit of one myself, oops. hope you enjoy :)

⭒

Joe had been the first person in your life to understand that being shy wasn’t mutually exclusive with not wanting to be spoken to, that you were human, and craved connection as much as anybody else.

You’d first encountered him at the local hybrid cafe-bookshop, Paracosm. Perhaps that was why you’d been a little more at ease than usual, that day; you knew the place. Paracosm was your favourite haunt, filled with the familiar comforts of tea and yellowed pages, the glittering light bulbs that hung from the ceiling like little planets and kept the atmosphere of the cafe cosy, even on the coldest of days.

Or perhaps it’d been the look of kindliness about him, the slight ginger tint to his hair, the snow dusting his eyelashes, the way he’d shivered and shared a laugh at his own expense with the barista. It was a beautiful quality, to be able to laugh at oneself.

Or maybe it was none of those things at all, and instead simply that he’d smiled at you when he had accidentally made eye contact with you, instead of hurriedly looking away, as most people— including you— did.

“I should’ve worn a warmer jacket, I think,” he said conversationally, and with a start, you realised he’d been talking to you.

Your first thought was why? Why was he speaking to you?

You were sitting by the door, yes, in the spot where you normally did, because the way the bookshelves were positioned by the table ensured that no draft would sweep over you, but just because you were closest to him… Was that why he had directed his remark to you, in polite resolve of the mistake he’d make in looking at you earlier? Or was he speaking to you because he wanted to speak to you?

No, of course not.

But he was still smiling at you, almost expectantly, as though he thought you would reply.

“Wrong day to wear a thin jacket,” you said, and your tonelessness could have been mistaken for hostility. You cursed yourself inwardly; it wasn’t hostility, it was nerves. Admittedly, the man was attractive, and as you already struggled with small talk in the company of people you knew, talking to this auburn-haired stranger turned your words more nonsensical than normal.

But he laughed again, lightly, easily. He had an easiness about him, a simplicity that boasted earnesty and depth, both wit and charm. “You’re right,” he said, simply. “But you look like the clever sort.”

You blinked at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you said.

The memory of a smile remained on his face as he told the barista, “A latte for me,” glanced in your direction, then added, “and another hot chocolate for the lady, please.”

Your expression turned further puzzled, and the man said to you, “Mind if I sit down?”

He’d said it so kindly, as though he genuinely cared that you would not be bothered by him taking the seat across from you.

“No,” you managed, “sit down.”

He pulled out the chair and sat down, made as though to take off his coat, then changed his mind, instead wrapping it more tightly around himself.

“You’re reading Shakespeare,” he said.

“Sorry?”

“You’re reading Shakespeare,” he repeated, and you glanced down at your book.

You were reading Shakespeare, but as to why that was relevant, you couldn’t guess.

“And?”

He shrugged. “Call me simple-minded, but if you’re reading Shakespeare for fun, you have to be some kind of smart. You can’t read between the lines if you’re not smart, and most of Shakespeare is between the lines, not in them.”

Pulling your book closer to you, you challenged shyly, “How do you know I’m reading for fun?”

You noticed, as you leveled your gaze on him, that his eyes were a lovely brown, the kind of colour one might wish to sink into, merely to fathom a whisper of the warmth that lay within them. “You were smiling at the book when I came in.”

He’d noticed you even before you’d seen him.

How often did that happen?

The answer was never. You were one to shrink into the corner, preferring to deflect most attention, and careful observation was your greatest asset in this world of loud-talkers and scatter-brained thinkers. You imagined that nothing about you drew the eye.

But you’d drawn his.

A flush touched your cheeks. “That’s embarrassing,” you muttered. You were only half-joking.

That smile was back on his face again.

“I’m Joe,” he said, reaching out to shake your hand.

“Y/N,” you responded quietly, taking his hand. His skin was soft.

“Joe! Latte and a hot chocolate.”

Joe raised his eyebrows at you, then went to retrieve the drinks. Returning, he set down the hot chocolate in front of you.

“You really didn’t have to do that,” you said, avoiding his eyes.

“Oh, but I wanted to,” he winked. “Gotta make a good first impression.”

Your book was a refuge as you glanced down again, the reliable pattern of black lettering stamped into creamy paper offering you familiarity in this unfamiliar situation. You weren’t used to this… interest.

“And anyway,” he resumed, “what I meant to say was, that’s not embarrassing,” he jammed a finger in the direction of your book, “but the fact that I know how to recite the entirety of Macbeth backwards is.”

“Backwards?” you couldn’t help but laugh. “Why do you know how to recite the entirety of Macbeth backwards?”

Joe winced. “See, that’s the embarrassing bit.”

You raised your eyebrows, and with a heavy sigh, he continued.

“It was a bet. I was being stupid and thought it would be a good idea to bet my friend a hundred dollars that I could memorise any play within a week.”

“Okay, that does sound a bit embarrassing,” you conceded. “But still, why backwards?”

“I’m getting there, I’m getting there,” he said, blowing over the surface of his latte, gingerly taking a sip. He recoiled when it was still too hot, wrinkling his nose in an adorably childish manner. “Backwards, because my friend decided to teach me a lesson for being an idiot, and one-upped me that I should learn it backwards. Before I knew it, there was an entire bar-full of strangers chanting for me to do it, on pain of death if I refused.”

You laughed, finally slipping your fingers from your book, closing it gently with the bookmark inside, your attention captured by how this man told stories in such a lively way, the lilt of his voice akin to how one would narrate a fairytale.

“Go on, then,” you said, trying your hot chocolate. It was perfect, as ever. Perhaps a little more so because it hadn’t come out of your weekly budget. And because it had been paid for by a handsome stranger, one who actually wanted to talk to you. “I want to hear some backwards Macbeth.”

Joe’s eyes twinkled. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“I do,” you answered. But you didn’t, really. And he knew it.

He narrowed his eyes.

When you didn’t flinch beneath his gaze, he began, “Despair thy charm, and let the angel whom thou still hast served. Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother’s womb untimely ripped.” Here, he changed his voice to represent the change in speaker, and you smothered a laugh in your hands at how dramatic his facial expression had become. “Thou losest labor as easy mayst thou the intrenchant air with thy keen sword impress as make me bleed. Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests; I bear a charmèd life, which must not yield to one of woman born.”

A few more lines, and he had you utterly in stitches; you did not bother to quiet your laughter. Of course, the lines now sounded completely meaningless, but Joe’s sense of humour was as ridiculous as your own, and in deriving pleasure from the ludicrousness of a Shakespeare work read backwards, Joe was more likable to you than ever.

“I believe you, I believe you!” you cried, and his composure crumpled, a grin spreading across his face.

“Thank god,” he said eventually, when the two of you could contain yourselves. “I thought I’d have to recite all of it before you gave in.”

You shook your head, still smiling.

“I would’ve done it, though,” he said, and you felt your chest tighten at the look of earnesty in his eyes.

“You should be an actor,” you told him, and he chuckled, the warmth of the sound warming you.

“I’m glad you think so. I am an actor.”

“Oh!”

“But I’m not pretending I want to be here with you,” he said.

Something like butterflies had fluttered beneath your skin.

He’d returned to Paracosm every day after that, and though he seemed happily surprised each time he encountered you, you weren’t so foolish as to believe that your meetings were actually a coincidence.

As the days went by, you grew more comfortable in Joe’s presence, until you were relaxed enough to begin an argument with him about which of the Brontë sisters was more forward-thinking in terms of women’s rights. Unlike most of the men you’d come across in your lifetime, Joe was perfectly comfortable debating such topics, even going so far as to slag off the more conservative male classical writers of the same time period. The two of you had then pored over the difference between Oscar Wilde’s poetry and his literature, examined the metaphors of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, trawled through the conspiracy theory regarding Shakespeare and whether or not he had really authored all of his own works. The latter conversation had become so heated that other cafe patrons had begun taking their own personal sides on the matter, loudly voicing their opinions until even Paracosm’s baristas had a thing or two to add to the discussion.

“How are you so well-read, anyway?” you’d asked Joe.

“My mom forced me through all of the classics before I was ten,” he’d said with a shrug. In his nonchalance, he became all the more alluring, the humbleness a complement to his personality.

Not many days into the routine of running into you at Paracosm, Joe had asked you to go out with him, properly.

You’d nodded, “Okay.”

“Okay?” he’d laughed, nervously. “You don’t have to go out with me if you don’t want to.”

“No,” you’d shaken your head, adamant that you get your point across. “I want to go out with you, Joe.”

His face had broken into a smile. “Okay,” he’d said, making you laugh, and his smile had broadened until it reached his lovely eyes.

The first time he’d kissed you had been on that first date.

He’d taken you to see a musical, one you’d struggled to pay attention to because Joe kept looking over at you to gauge your reaction to certain parts of the show, laughing with you, smiling when you smiled.

After the show, the two of you had wandered down the boulevard, and as it had been cold, you’d used this as your excuse to hover close enough by Joe’s side that your sleeves occasionally brushed as you walked with your arms by your sides.

You’d been content to walk like that, floundering for breath when his eyes caught on yours, your heart stumbling along its usually steady course. But then, in place of sleeves, his fingers had brushed your fingers, and suddenly you wanted more, to be closer to him in this blistering cold where his touch would surely warm you.

And he slipped his hand into yours.

You could hardly breathe.

“Look,” he said quietly, pointing up at the sky.

Confused, you frowned, but it wasn’t long before you realised his meaning: snow drifted down from above, snowflakes spinning through the air like dancers. It was beautiful, light snow, not the heavy kind, the kind there’d been on the day when Joe had first stumbled into Paracosm, the kind that would warrant a panic about losing one’s way home.

The snow was beautiful, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of Joe.

He stared up at the heavens, his eyes wide with childlike wonder, and for a moment, you lost yourself in watching him, drenched in your own memories of a simpler time.

Snow glittered in his hair, on the shoulders of his coat, on his eyelashes and on his collar. The word ‘angelic’ came to mind.

“I like snow,” he murmured.

You laughed softly. “I can see that.”

He lowered his eyes until they met yours.

You remembered that he was holding your hand.

“And I like you,” he said, a smile finding its way to his lips. His eyes were homely and familiar in his face, the face you’d looked into for so many days now, gazing at him and wondering at how it was really nothing more than a coincidence that the two of you had met. What a wonderful coincidence.

“I like you too, Joe,” you whispered, your hold tightening on his hand.

He lifted his other hand to your cheek, not quite touching you, but close enough to make your breath hitch.

His own gentle exhale tickled your skin.

Tentatively, he asked, “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

“More than okay,” you murmured, already gravitating toward him.

“Okay, because I wasn’t sure, and I wanted to be sure, and I—”

You cut him off, pressing your lips to his as he hummed a soft oh against your mouth and finally, finally pulled you into his arms.

You felt him wrap his coat around you, and you leaned further into him, relishing his warmth in the coldness of the night.

When he pulled back, he combed snow from your hair with the lightest of touches, laughter in his eyes.

“You know,” he said, “you must be more well-read than I am.”

You blinked at him. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, because that was classic, cutting me off.”

You rolled your eyes at the ridiculousness of his joke.

The snow fell more thickly now, but neither of you moved. You simply stood, you with your head nestled against Joe’s chest, Joe with his coat and his arms wrapped around you. His breath ruffled your hair.

“My well-read girl,” he whispered.

⭒

[ofherlionheart]

10,12,18,22 for ask game!!( An I going overboard?? If yes any you want to answer only one please do 18)

not overboard at all! i find answering these to be fun. i’ve already done 12 and 18 but i’ll do a round two of 18 anyway lol

10. do you enjoy writing dialogue, exposition, or plot the most?

i find dialogue the most fun because i love the challenge of getting characters to say things without actually saying it, or taking roundabout routes to get to a truth. it also tends to be what comes to me first—i’ll know the map of a conversation, and then i need to block out the scene that happens around it, and then that blocking sometimes makes me think of a different direction in which to take the dialogue.

i also think you can get a lot of character-building mileage out of dialogue, particularly since i prefer writing in a close third-person perspective. e.g. in like the sun inside of you, what mai and sokka do or don’t say is just as important—if not more—to their character development as what zuko thinks of them/how he understands them.

18. What is a line/scene you’re really proud of? give us the DVD commentary for that scene

im gonna give you two, actually, from to be only, to be every:

He feels like walls and scaffolding and infrastructure are crumbling to dust inside of him, and it feels disastrously wonderful to let go of this fight against gravity.

this is a line i loved from the moment i wrote it! sokka’s love language of being unexpectedly psychologically eviscerated is also one of my love languages, and i’ve long struggled to convey to friends why i’m like this. writing this scene really forced me to find those words, though, and i think it helped me understand that it’s about someone else seeing how messy and messed-up you are, without you even really realizing it, but them still loving you anyway. i (like sokka) think i build up very effective walls and shield what i believe to be uglier aspects of myself from the world, but when i’m given a reminder that there are people in my life who have quietly strolled through the labyrinth of self-defenses and chose anyway, without even telling me, to love and care for and support me … oof, dude. cue the tears

and, secondly:

If you let me nestle between your ribs, put down roots and grow like the shooting grasses of fields that do not know the darker acts of metal and men, your body will be my earth and I will make you rich.

this is a line that grew on me—i didn’t think much of it when i first wrote it. it was born out of a frustration with what tattoo z would get for s in a modern au—trying to work in sokka’s main canon symbols, like the boomerang or space sword, didn’t feel right (that’s also why i conveniently said sokka doesn’t know why zuko got sai for mai, lol). for a second i considered a physics-related tattoo, but i couldn’t think of anything that rly resonated, and besides, physics is a surface-level thing about s. z knows him more intimately than that.

so then i thought, what if it were words, rather than an image? and what if it was something that sokka wrote himself? that’s more personal/intimate. so the next challenge was, what is something that s would have written that stuck with z so strongly, he would get a tattoo about it? something that spoke to who s fundamentally is, probably.

i’d already planned out z’s other tattoos, and i thought the ribs would be a good spot for s’s tattoo, so i began the quote with that: if you let me nestle between your ribs. at this point, i’d already written the scene between s and yue at the restaurant, so i knew this tattoo had to emotionally destroy sokka. what would destroy sokka? if someone took a truth he knew about himself, but reframed it in a way that illustrated him even more clearly/kindly.

one of s’s truths, imo, is that he’s constantly giving and giving and giving himself, because he isn’t comfortable being let into other’s lives without the sense that he’s giving something in return. he’d the eldest sibling, he’s BIPOC, he grew up (in the boo chronicles ‘verse) in a home strongly steeped in community-first/collectivist culture but in a country that’s deeply exchange-oriented and individualistic. he’s surrounded by hyper-accomplished, amazing ppl, and he’s ‘just the jokes guy’ (this is a lie that only he believes). so he’s gotta do something if he wants ppl to want him to stick around, right? enter zuko: you are valued and loved not for what you can do for others, but for who you are. i want to see you blossom not for what you can do for me, but for what that growth means for you.

and then the lil corner of my brain that still contains knowledge from AP Bio started pinging. roots and plants make soil richer, it reminded me. sokka’s enough of a nerd to know this. i’d also recently seen a post about what the roots of plants like wheat/corn/carrots look like when they’ve been growing naturally for years on years, versus when they’re grown on farms for harvesting within a couple years. the difference is ridiculous, y’all. and thus: put down roots and grow like the shooting grasses of fields that do not know the darker acts of metal and men. let me grow in your earth, without being plucked or cut down too soon, and i could make you so much richer, s promises, because that’s the only way he’s ever thought he could build a lasting relationship of any kind.

z, however, reads this quote, and everything about s finally makes sense and also his heart breaks a little. he never lets go of this quote. he takes the phrase your body will be my earth, inks it between his own ribs, and elides i will make you rich because fck that sense of constantly needing to promise returns.

anyway. i was not expecting this line to be so resonant with people, but i’m very touched and humbled that it has, and this response is in part the reason that i’ve grown to be proud of it. it was born of narrative and trope-fulfilling functionality, and has blossomed into something more.

22. have you cried while writing a fic?

i have not, lmao. i don’t emotionally resonate with my own writing as strongly as with works created by other folks—i think i pour too much of my emotional energy into the actual writing, so by the end of the process, i’m all wrung out, lol. i guess for a few months after i finished Tell Me It’s a Sure Thing, i would forget how to breathe any time i re-read the ending.

thank you for the ask! (see all the Qs here 👀)

[shebeafancyflapjack]

Consequences

Follow-up to What She Needs, because who doesn’t love make-up fluff.

*

She wakes to the sound of eggs sizzling on a frying pan, the greasy smell of bacon wafting over her. Her stomach rumbles but she’s not ready to get up just yet, snuggled into the sofa beneath the shirt that’s been laid over her.

It’s not a bad position to wake up in but it leaves her a little disoriented.

What time is it? If she’s on the couch then it must be the afternoon but...they wouldn’t be having fried eggs and bacon this late - not that either of them gave a fork about eating routines, it just wasn’t usual. She doesn’t recall practicing walking or swimming earlier, her hair isn’t damp, her calf muscles aren’t cramping...

Ten seconds is all it takes for the time to rearrange itself properly in her head, for the barrage of memories to slot in place like a magical jigsaw and recall why she’s waking up alone, on the sofa, in the morning. And why she shouldn’t be calling the nearby chef over for a good morning kiss. He doesn’t deserve one...not yet. So she stays quiet, pretending to stir and mumble to show she’s awake, but keeping her eyes and mouth shut.

At least he left a nice, warm indent for her to lay in for as long as she wants to stay there and let him wait on her.

She barely remembers the nightmare that forced her to seek out Michael’s comfort, it’s been dissolved by the peaceful sleep and sanctuary she slept through until a minute ago. When her mind attempts to recall it, against her will, all she catches are the worst sensations of fear and loneliness, absence of all hope, her skin crawling as if covered in dung beetles. Again. Eleanor inhales, letting the scents and sounds of the beach house return her to the present.

Michael places her mug on the coffee table. Fork, she’s gonna have to give in and sit up now. She’s prepared to wait until she hears him move back to the kitchen. Then his fingers stroke some of her hair from her face, then brush against her cheek. Forking...

“Y’know I could bite your hand right now.” She murmurs, eyes still closed.

“It’d be worth it.” Michael tells her, softly; “Plus Janet would just grow it back.”

“Ugh, gross.” Eleanor wrinkles her nose; “You’re like a lizard.”

“Oh so it’s fine when you call me a...” She opens her eyes in time to see him bite his tongue as he kneels beside the couch; “Never mind.”

Indeed. She’s glad to see he’s smart enough not to dig his hole even deeper than it already is.

He gives her a humble smile; “How you feeling?”

“Still annoyed with you. I’ll update you when that changes, bud.” Eleanor pushes herself up and yawns.

“I figured that. I meant after...Last night...”

Oh.

“You can just say ‘nightmares’, man, it’s not a forbidden word.” She accepts the coffee when he passes it to her; “And I’m okay...Don’t even remember it. Just is what it is.” And it sucks; “It’s not like you can take them away or anything.”

“I could. I mean...” he takes a breath, “I could always...take the memories away...It’s crossed my mind more than once.”

She takes a sip of her drink, studying the conflict on his face.

“...Could you do it without erasing our time together?”

Michael shakes his head.

She shrugs; “Then it’s not an option, dummy.” Her eyes harden when he dares to look touched by that; “And don’t assume that means I like you again!”

They don’t say another word to each other until she’s nearly finished her breakfast, sat the kitchen island, stomach ravenous after eating nothing but Janet-delivered snacks with her drink instead of dinner the previous night. Michael sits opposite, slowly making his way through his hash browns, eyes cast downwards, almost unnaturally quiet.

He nudges a couple of baked beans with his knife, looking pensive. He takes a deep breath.

“I’m sorry.”

Eleanor glances up, still chewing her eggs. Wow, was that really so hard? To be fair, she’s hardly one to talk. It was hardly a word she was used to saying in life, unless it was something along the lines of ‘Oh I’m sorry you can’t handle how hot I am’ or ‘Sorry...not sorry, psyche!’. 

Michael puts down his knife; “I don’t think of you...Of any of you guys as cockroaches, not really. Humans have always astounded me with how...resilient you guys are. You’re like rubber, everything that hits you just bounces off...I’m sure there’s some kinda great intellectual saying with that analogy...” He waves his hands; “Anyway...Truth is, I’m never been good with handling anyone being better than me...It took me two hundred years of being an apprentice until I got my own neighbourhood. Do you know that’s the longest any demon was in training for? Most fly solo after the first fifty years or so! And even before that, no matter how good I thought I was at torturing, there was always another demon wo was better and getting more praise...I was never strong enough to compete so I would take it out on...” His jaw clenches with shame.

Eleanor swallows the last of her food. She keeps watching, not saying a word, letting him get out everything he’s been clearly rehearsing in his head as he cooked.

“Having someone be better at my old job was one thing...But when there’s someone better at being what I truly have always wanted to be...and never will. Someone who also gets to spend more time with the woman I love...Who knows how to be a better...person,” Michael reaches to sip his own coffee; “The truth is...I’m the one who feels like an insect between the two of you. I feel...scared...” he clears his throat; “Scared that I’ll always fall short of the rest of you...I don’t have anything that compares to your strength or Chidi’s wisdom. Fork, I don’t have Tahani’s confidence...even Jason seems to understand some lessons more than me, with those inane stories he tells which always seem to somehow be on point!”

It’s true, every nonsensical ramble about the DJ’s life seemed to neatly tie in to some ethical thought experiment. He had a talent for it. That and firing spit balls around the chalkboard. 

Michael manages a smile, his cheeks turning pink to match his shirt; “You’re not small and gross to me. You’re...magnificent. And gigantic. Like...mammoths.”

Eleanor snorts.

“That the best you can do?”

“Oh c’mon!” Michael scoffs; “Mammoths are awesome! They....Oh, I forgot, you haven’t seen one. Would you like to? I can get Janet to-.”

“No, no....Well, maybe later, I’m sure Jason would love to ride one, but...” She sighs and slides off her stall.

It’s impossible for her to resist those puppy dog eyes anymore. She moves around the island and shifts her butt onto his lap, throwing her arms around his neck. He blinks, stunned, as she moves in close. One of her hands unhooks to run her fingers across his soft, white hair, smiling as her nose touches his. Michael dares to put his hands on her middle, holding her tight and secure.

She presses her lips to his, lightly at first, before cupping his jaw and moving her tongue to massage her demon boyfriend’s, sharing the taste of bacon between them. It’s been over a week since they’ve had a chance to hold each other and kiss, properly, like this. Having to hold off on the good stuff out of keeping to her newfound principles and to teach him a lesson was not easy. 

But totally worth it.

Eleanor hums as she pulls back, holding onto his shoulders; “Apology accepted. And as for that whole, ‘having nothing that compares to us’ schtick...You know that’s bullshirt, right?” 

Michael looks puzzled. What a dingus. Eleanor touches his face, thumb stroking across his cheekbone. 

“You care, dude. That’s your virtue. It’s why I’m so in love with you, even when you drive me crazy. None of us taught you that...It was right there, locked away inside of you, but you brought it out and you cared for me when I needed to....And you kept on doing it, even when you could’ve stopped...You tried to sacrifice yourself to save me and my friends....You keep putting your neck on the line for us...Don’t ever think that’s worthless, okay? We’re all super grateful to have the most caring, if a little immature and arrogant, demon on our team.”

There’s a wetness growing on his blue eyes, making them shine behind his glasses. She should really add ‘sappy’ to that list. Eleanor kisses his cheek as one tear leaks.

“Maybe that’s why you sucked at torturing. You only went so far to prove your worth. Your heart was never really in it?” She wonders.

He shrugs; “Possibly...Mostly because I don’t have a heart.”

She slaps his chest, lightly; “Y’know what I mean. Do I have to make you one like you’re the forking Tin Man just so you get the point?”

“...Yeah, okay.” He seems excited to have another trinket for his collection.

“Well, I ain’t crafting shirt that’s more complex than another paperclip bracelet, so ask Janet for one.” Eleanor smiles, leaning in to hug him tight around the neck. He squeezes her back, no doubt feeling the same relief as she had, to be back in each others arms without a worry for the weekend.

He hesitates before asking the next question.

“Am I allowed back in the bed tonight?” He says, sheepishly.

“Well....I suppose it will save me the walk if I have another bad dream.” She slips off of his lap; “...Only on one condition of course. You apologise to Chidi.”

His face falls, like a little kid who just had his candy snatched away.

“What, today? He’s not even here! How am I gonna...Can’t I just repeat what I said to you to him?”

“No, that’s cheating.” Her voice turns stern, ‘tutor’ mode activated; “You gotta think of a way to say sorry to him in a way he’d appreciate.”

Michael sighs and taps his fingers on the surface.

“I...I suppose I could...write him an essay on Consequentialism, drawling parallels it to this whole situation?” He suggests, looking to her for the go ahead.

“That’s....actually brilliant. He’d love that! Go for it.” Why are the two men she’s closest to in this afterlife the biggest dorks?

And, worse, she’s pretty much one herself now.

Michael grins, perking up from her approval; “Oh, great! I’ll get right on it and...Then what, do you want me to go back and read it to him?”

“No, just say it to Janet and she can repeat it to him back at my house.” Eleanor waves off; “...But you gotta have her disguise herself as Chidi while you’re reading it, so it feels like you’re saying it to him.”

“That’s gonna be disturbing as well as awkward.” He shifts, frowning.

Eleanor kisses his head before whispering; “That’s consequences, baby. Now get to writing. I’mma gonna go ask speedboating with Janet on those waves until you’re done. Then we can have the couples getaway this is supposed to be.”

As he gets up to put the dishes in the sink, she makes sure to give his butt a good slap, just to add in that incentive. She adores the startled, giddy look on his face that it always leaves him with. Damn it’s tough to stay mad at someone so cute.

After changing out of her PJs and into her bathing suit, sunglasses resting on her head, she goes to head out the patio doors.

“Hey, babe...” Michael stops her, having finished washing up. She turns to see his smile; “...Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Chidi’s gotta accept your apology so don’t half-ash it.”

“I wasn’t just saying thanks for that...” He stares at her, adoringly; “....I mean for everything, Eleanor. Thank you.”

She tilts her head to the side. Then a smile.

A quick skip towards him, leaning up on her toes, hands on his shoulders to reach that mouth of his again. Fork, it’s more effort to reach him when he’s upright. She gives him another kiss, a little motivation, something to remind him of what he misses out on when acting like a deck.

“You’re very welcome...Now make your hot girlfriend proud by doing your homework.” She smirks, one hand stroking down his chest; “Then come fork me into the sand, ‘cause I’m horny as Here - and if you don’t, I’m gonna get Janet to make me a clone of Jason Statham to spend this weekend with.”

If that doesn’t force the dumb demon to get his ash into gear then nothing will.

[annaadamsauthor713]

What We Do in the Shadows Movie Review

Opening Thoughts

I am so excited to get to return to doing Movie Reviews! I wanted to start off with my most favorite vampire movie of all time; What We Do in the Shadows. This movie is, in my humble opinion, the overall best vampire movie ever made, and I will fill this post with my arguments for this.

Watching Thoughts (Spoiler Alert!)

Such detailed sets and costumes. Lots of love with into this. The first reason this is the overall best vampire movie is because so many different types of vampires are represented, meaning it doesn’t matter what kind of vampires you like, there’s a character in there for every vampire fan. Relate-able. I also have an extreme aversion to dishes. ‘Vampires don’t do Dishes’ is a new motto of mine. Vlad is definitely the most quotable vampire. So many hilarious lines like ‘I was known as Vladislav the Poker.’ I LOVE the opening music in this. Another great thing I love about this movie is the human emotion these vampires seem to explode with. Ah yes, gotta have the sweet vampire x human love story for those romance lovers. Perfectly punctuated with an awkward trumpet. Something that people like to try to hide is the fact that vampires are awkward. By removing all humor, most vampire movies come off as waaaay too hoity-toity. This movie doesn’t take itself so seriously that they can’t make us laugh and enjoy the story they are telling us. They also make fun of the trope that vampirism makes you immediately a hunk or babe. A Trope which I think is a damaging thing. It keeps vampires boring and gate-kept. Where’s my cleft lip vampires? My midget vampires? Vampires with acne scars? Vampires who aren’t the hottest hottie hot who ever hotted hot? What We Do in the Shadows doesn’t have a glass ceiling saying who can and can’ be a part of the hellish legions. I would like a more in-depth look into the media of this universe. If they can find a vampire feeding on a man in the street, what is daily life for humans like there other than needing door-men to keep vampires out of the bar? Why are humans still in town? Does the vampire hunter that comes in later get paid? Is that is day job? And is Anne Rice a vampire in this universe? (Jackie named her daughter Akasha so we have to assume Anne Rice was still famous but was she still human?????) Ah, pedo hunter. That is one of the jobs I would love to have if I was a vampire. Clean up those streets! How does Jackie’s hubby feel about his wife having a master? Viago is a wonderful vampire but I find his method of finding prey to be the creepiest of the flat-mates. He reminds me of the boys who would pretend to like you while they orchestrated how to get you in bed. Every moment had a motive, and no matter what you said about your wants or needs, he’s going to take what he wants. Especially in modern times, vampires are a way to hide our sexuality in fiction, and the manipulative undertones of the romantic vampire did not escape my notice. Peter moves so smoothly through the window all I can imagine is him being pushed on a skateboard to get that silhouette. Which makes me laugh every time. The dinner scene is my favorite. Absolutely hilarious notes on virginity, mispronunciation of spaghetti, a great and blatant theft from the Lost Boys, and some really great special effects. By far the funniest scene in the movie. Not to mention, it runs into the best dance sequence of all time lol. Deacon and I would be best buds. As you may end up noticing in my novels, I am HERE for vampire turning scenes. I love how different it is for every story and even every vampire. Such a personal and extreme experience. I love it. When I was a kid I loved the idea that vampires can fly, but now that I am an adult I can only accept it if vampirism is a magical infection, not a scientific one. Luckily, these vampires can do all kinds of magic tricks so it’s fine and doesn’t bother me. Stew tickles me pink. He’s so confused. What would a modern vampire story be without the dance club? Sad and without dancing, that’s what. What is the point of living forever if you don’t truly enjoy the arts? I like the idea that the arts move vampires differently than people because it is the only way they can truly connect to humans, and their eternal lives allow them to have deeper layers of emotions that are stroked by artistic immersion. We even get a little vampires vs werewolf action for those who like that enemy dynamic (even though vampires and werewolves are rooted in the exact same myths, let them keep imagining this fight. Says a lot about the nature of humans to fight the self.) If a lion can be friends with a gazelle when not starving, so can a vampire be friends with a person, and I am here for it. Go Stew. Deacon and Nick are so similar in the root of who they are. Deacon is jealous of Nick and Nick is jealous of Stew. Deacon is just older and more careful. I would be a terrible vampire. People already grow up too fast around me while I sit in my house in dark rooms lol. My human pets would die left and right while I just kinda lost sense of time. Enter the other reason this movie is so good. Up until now it has been very funny with a few moments of gore and questionable morality. But now we get to see some sadness, which no vampire movie should be without. This movie balances humor with some gut wrenching scenes, like here where Nick can’t eat his favorite food anymore. They take a funny puking scene and make it sad and relate-able. The romance of vampires is stripped in this movie and they are shown for us for what they truly are or can be if we just let them; complex, strange, sat monsters that can hold our secret human feelings. Vampires help us explore humanity, sexuality, and mortality. They are our fears and our desires. They are us. Death is what all vampires truly embody. Our fear of death and the inevitability of it. Our desire to live forever no matter the cost, and the horrid truth that no matter how long you live, the sun will find you one day. The head blur was a good and simple trick to simulate turning a head 180 degrees. Even the vampires reacting to a house visit from the police is relate-able. ‘You will not notice anything out of the ordinary,’ she said under her breath, scooting the bong under the couch with her foot. They are very good at softening very sad scenes with humor, and toning down funny scenes with sadness, another thing many vampire movies struggle to do. I would have loved a little promo pamphlet of Wellington Vampire Laws. I would have read that shit out of that. We all have our Beasts, lol. I love that the ball is held in just some rental hall like a regular ol wedding or something. Not in a cemetery or an old gothic hall. Nope, there’s finger sandwiches and banners. I wish they would have touched on the fact that they treat witches as inhuman? I wanna know more. Again, vampires embody our fear of death, which includes our fear of age. It is inevitable, that as you age, you will outlive your friends, or they will outlive you. No one escapes without losing someone. Vampires allow us to face and figure out that fear a little bit (hopefully) before it happens to us and our loved ones. Loss is universal. No vampire movie could contend for overall best without exploring loss and how it deeply effects our lives. And we can’t feel loss without first feeling love. Loss and love are at the heart of what a vampire needs to touch our hearts. Without it they are just monsters. But a perfect movie wouldn’t end on a sour or somber note, in my opinion, and What We Do in the Shadows delivers a lovely and light-hearted wrap-up to the best vampire movie ever made.  

Closing Thoughts

It doesn’t matter what kind of vampire fan you are, whether you’re an Anne Rice fan, only like pre-1900’s vamps, a fan of the vamp vs wolf stories, or a twi-hard, you have something for you in this movie. If you like romance, or the chase, or drama, or comedy, you have something for you here. If you like theater art or music, this movie has lots of special effects, acting tricks, and amazing music. It explores deep themes while never losing the pace of humor. It has adult jokes but not so many you couldn’t show it to your mom. And the credits aren’t boring, filled with more scenes and great jams. Leave a comment, reblog, or send me an ask and tell me; what do you think is overall the best vampire movie ever made. Do you agree with me or do you have something else in mind?

[fallingstory]

> Ask the informant if she has any advice about how to contact the Chlopsky and for directions to Lublin, Thank the informant and offer to pay her back for her help if I see her again at a less busy moment. Head north to Lublin.

"Can you tell me how I can contact the Chlopsky?"

"Well, Lublin's the closest big city and its got to have a fair few members." She pauses for a moment. "I prefer the countryside myself, and most of the members hide themselves away from cities, in the farming villages or out in the mountains. But, they still need to have some ears in the centers of power."

"I need to get to Lublin, so do you know anyone I can get in touch with over there?"

The informant smiles slightly, "I've got someone in mind, friend of mine working in some of the theaters over there. Second-best way to meet up with all sorts of folks from out of town - after working at the post office. She's gone by a few names, "The Giant", "Mama Rye", "Hannah", but I can't guarantee she won't have a new name by now. The Tropos' people are all over the city, so you've gotta be willing to shed a name or two if you want to stick around there."

The informant tells you that you should head north if you want to get to Lublin quickly. There is a road directly north that should bring you there in a few hands, but you'll have to pass the Tropos' tower. Otherwise, you can try to go south and double back along a side road, but that will more than double the travel time. She also gives you a wooden whistle, "This should help you find members of my cell in any towns you come across, just blow it after sunset and follow whomever comes to guide you. If anyone asks tell them that Lady Larch vouches for you."

You thank her and tell her you'll return the favor when you cross paths again. The corners of her lips twitch slightly upwards and she wishes you safe travels.

You leave the workshop and head north, you've decided that making it to Lublin before the day is over is your top priority, no matter the risk.

It doesn't take long to reach the outskirts of town. Here the trees are thicker than they were on your path into town. Roots have been growing through sections on the edges of the path.

You take a moment to look up at the Tropos' tower. You can make out cracks in the stone and gaps in the roofing. From the corner of your eye, you spot the butcher, a large man, peering at you from around the corner of one of the houses on the edge of town. You turn and walk a bit further down the path and, when you hear him leave his hiding spot, quickly turn around. "Aha! Why are you following me?" You feel sleep shift around on your back, moving their weight from your neck to the middle of your back and sends you a light knock.

Fiddling with the pockets of his large apron, he says, "I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier. I-I was just taking orders from the Tropos to harass folks."

"Apologize to the people you bullied. Why don't you have a sale or something to show you're trying to make things right?"

His eyes widen and he backs away from you. sleep knocks lightly several times.

"Okay, okay, I don't know about your finances." sleep knocks, "Ba..ck."

You turn around and see that two masked figures have got to within arm's length of you. sleep makes a particularly strong knock and one of the assailants drops to the ground, felled by a root. The other knocks sleep to the ground and then grabs you, pinning your arms behind your back. From within the trees, two more masked figures emerge, flanking a man dressed in pale blue robes. He appears to be in early middle-age, with short dark hair and a sad expression.

The butcher, who remained on the sidelines during the brief struggle, suddenly exclaims, "Tropos! I've brought you the rebel!"

Without turning, the Tropos addresses him, "Would that I could believe those were your true intentions by approaching a young traveler with a knife in your pocket."

"No, sir, this is just a-"

"Enough", the Tropos sighs. "Be thankful that you have been lucky enough to only be caught harassing traitors and rebels."

"Y-Yes", the butcher retreats back to town.

"Now, are you aware that, as the governor of Goray, one of my duties is to lend aid to Descenders such as yourself?" You see that the masked figure who had tripped has moved to a spot behind the Tropos. They are holding a sturdy wooden cage, inside of which is sleep, who is still apart from one tentacle reaching through the bars which occasionally twitches as if trying to reach you.

"Well, you can lend me aid now by letting me go and returning my Tether." You make a valiant attempt to sound courteous.

"While it would give me no greater pleasure than to help one of our valiant Descenders on their mission", the Tropos continues morosely, "Are you a valiant Descender? A passing troublemaker? Or a rebel?"

"I'm on a mission! That's why I'm heading for Lublin."

The Tropos smiles, "How wonderful, then I shall accompany you there. Why, we can even go to the Mesos together to pay our respects. You as a valiant Descender on a mission of peace and me as your humble servant."

The goon pinning your arms shoves you to your knees and ties your hands behind your back. Then, you are hauled up by the armpit and shoved down the path. You can hear the Tropos following behind with at least one other masked helper.

When you try to slow down for the others to draw level with you, the Tropos clicks his tongue. "Let's keep going forward, valiant Descender? I think your Tether will find the trip much more pleasant if we can manage to keep the pace up."

Seething, you continue north. Occasionally, the Tropos will ask you a question. "What were you doing in town?" "Did you enjoy the sights so much the first time that you had to return?" "Which ship are you from?" You don't respond and he doesn't seem to mind, or at least doesn't care enough to threaten you for an answer.

As Lady Larch said, after only a couple hands you notice that the tree cover is thinning and some roads from the east and west are merging with the one from Goray. Soon after, you spot Lublin.

You can see that Lublin's houses are made of stone and many are two or three stories tall. Dotted around the town, copper domes and stone towers give the city a jagged silhouette. In the center of town, a white castle rises clear above all the surrounding structures.

As you grow closer, you see a line of folks awaiting entrance. Mostly they are farmers pulling carts, but a few have large beasts to haul their goods, and there is one enclosed wagon painted a brilliant green with gold decoration toward the front of the line.

Now, the Tropos steps out from behind you and leads your group past the line. Several farmers seem ready to berate your poor etiquette, but look away when they notice the Tropos and his masked entourage. As you draw level with the green wagon, you see that the decorations were actually lettering - "Green Apple Circus". Two tall, muscly people pull the wagon, one man and one woman, both with close-cropped hair. The man glances at you, he stretches one large arm and you can spot a tattoo of a sheaf of wheat on the inside of his bicep.

You can hear the Tropos conversing with the guards at the gate, two men in long mail hauberks with spears in hand and short swords at their hips.

"Tropos of Goray returning with a Descender for the Mesos."

The shorter of the guards says, "I can see that. Only problem is I've been given orders to send any Descenders straight to my Captain."

"That's not a problem at all. I order you to stand aside so we can go to the Mesos. You know, the current governor of Lublin."

The taller guard speaks this time, "Say, sounds like you might be a bit confused. We don't take orders from the Mesos. We're Lendian military, reporting up to the Emian brass. We don't have to listen to you."

The Tropos' two goons have gathered up by his side, including the one with sleep, and they suddenly have cudgels in their hands - you're not sure where they got those from. The Tropos glances at you and back at the taller guard.

You are a few paces behind and can see that the circus man is now beckoning you over.

What do you do?

[star-birthmark]

Just Ask Him (A BruAbba Fic)

Merry Christmas everyone! Though I don’t personally celebrate it, I wish everyone the best on such a beloved holiday! 

Here is my piece for @jjba-secret-santa. Of course, I just had to get my idol @headoverjojo to write for, but Tricia, I hope you like what I wrote, especially since I never do ship fics lmao. 

But without further ado: Just Ask him: A BruAbba Fic (3.1k words)

Snow began in the early evening to cascade over the city of Naples. The roads were being paved, shops were closing for the night, and the humble citizens were retiring to their families and friends. The city was calming down, lulled to sleep by the falling snowflakes and the smell of hot coffee and freshly baked cookies. Libeccio was no different, Narancia was becoming drowsy after coming back home from a mission, Fugo was finally able to set his book down out of fatigue, Mista was trying to get comfortable in his chair, the three of them watching Leone pace back and forth in front of the table, the four of them all waiting for Bruno to get back from a meeting with Don Giovanna. The air in the room was heavy, each mafioso nervous at the outcome of Abbacchio’s leap of faith. 

“It’s not a big deal man. Just tell him, don’t freeze up like that time. It’ll all go well.” 

Abbacchio growled. “Easy for you to say, you don’t even have a boyfriend to propose to.”

Mista pouted at the insult but Fugo was still able to smile at his friend’s expense. 

“I think it’s beautiful Abbacchio. I bet Bruno will ask you himself one day, but it’s inspiring to see you take life by the horns and work to propose to him yourself. You know, if I think about it, it’s almost sort of like something you’d seen in one of those romantic novels.”

Narancia looked over at Fugo, nodding vigorously at the comparison. “Hah! You’re so right! A fallen, broken person finds their hope in their own little beacon of light, and together they ride off into the sunset-”

“Fugo, Narancia. Can you both please shut the fuck up, you’re making me nervous. I’m gonna do it, it’s not a big dea-”

Abbacchio was soon cut off by the door opening, the four of them turning to see Bruno briskly walk in, his movements fast and stressed. Abbacchio opened his mouth to speak but Bruno walked right past him, sitting at the table and slamming down a large stack of papers. Abbacchio nervously combed his hair with his fingers and straightened out his clothes, ready to finally speak his truth to the love of this life. Bruno, the ever-busy capo, however, remained oblivious as always. 

“Hi everyone sorry I’m late. I’ve got a whole new stack of projects for us to do, but if we put our heads together, we can definitely get them done by Christmas. There are some casino troubles near the west side of the city. Fugo that’ll probably go to you.”

Fugo tried to interrupt, to no avail. 

“Buccellati, Abbacchio wants to tell-” 

“A few corrupt figures, Mista that’s yours. Be careful though, I heard some reports from civilians and they all have the people on their side.”

Mista tried to interrupt as well, seeing his senior mafioso fidget in his stance, panicking that they couldn’t grab the capo’s attention. 

“Wait but Buccellati, Abba-”

“Oh don’t worry Mista everything will be fine. I’ll take over a lot of the conciliation and follow-ups on last month’s work. Some investigative work. That can be for Narancia, and hey wait where’s Abbacchio?” 

When the three men at the table pointed behind their capo, the leader turned around to see his boyfriend standing over the table, a nervous smile on his face. The silver-haired man, expecting his love’s usual warm smile in return, was instead meant with the blank, busied face of a capo, oblivious to his boyfriend’s feelings. 

“Oh, there you are Abbacchio. Can you join Narancia on some of the investigative stuff? You know, for obvious reasons.”

“Yeah sure but there’s somethi-”

“Hey listen I’m so sorry everyone, it’s been a very long day and tomorrow is going to be even longer I bet. I’m really tired is it alright if I head to bed now?” 

“I mean sure but-” 

“Thanks, Mista. Alright, have a goodnight everyone. Abbacchio, I’ll meet you upstairs.” 

Bruno placed a firm hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder before heading up the stairs to the apartment above the restaurant to rest. Abbacchio was left speechless, his eyes twitching in frustration. The radio that had been playing just finished its rotation of Christmas songs and Narancia had come up with an idea, beginning to snicker. Mista looked over at him, confused. 

“Hey, Mista I got a good Christmas song to sing, ‘Chestnuts roasting on an open fire. Jack frost nipping at your nose. Tiny tots with their eyes all aglow. And Abbacchio will find it hard to sleep tonight.’” 

The two men broke out into loud laughter, the older goofball practically tearing up as he stood up. “Why the hell were you so nervous Abba?!”

 He turned to Abbacchio, who was giving the two idiots a deadly glare. 

“Can it morons. I’m just worried that he’ll say no. You don’t gotta go making fun of me.”

He rolled his eyes, heading up the stairs to head to his bedroom with Bruno. 

Even before he became the Don’s second in command, since joining Passione, Bruno Buccellati had always been able to afford incredibly nice, incredibly expensive things. The small private bedroom in the group’s hideout in Naples was no exception. The moment Abbacchio opened the door to their bedroom, he felt his breath hitch in his throat as it always did. The crisp black and white palette of the room was so incredibly Bruno, yet the touches of gold and purple were so incredibly him. The warm, dim light worked to set the mood between the two partners, even if one of them was still hard at work instead of heading off to sleep. 

Leone worked to quiet his fast-beating heart, rushing over to the dresser to prepare for bed, looking at himself in the large porcelain mirror over the sink. 

“How is everything in Rome? How is Don Giovanna doing?” 

“Everything is fine. Giorno is fine. There’s a Christmas ball in a few nights. And, you can call him Giorno you know?” 

Abbachio rolled his eyes at the other’s short, blunt, busy, answers. While he was washing the makeup off his face, Bruno finally took himself away from his work long enough to notice his boyfriend in front of him. When Leone looked up from the sink, Bruno quickly looked back down, an unspoken awkwardness between the two of them. Abbacchio sighed and soon tugged his long jacket over his head, causing the capo’s eyes to glance up to see his lover’s slim yet strong chest and the little tuffs of silver hair that frame his face coming into view as he took pulled the collar over his head. Bruno smiled before returning to the papers on his desk with a renewed sense of purpose. 

Leone looked down at the ring box that he had hidden away in his drawer and closed the door to it. ‘Not tonight’ he thought, watching Bruno pull his hair out (literally and figuratively) at the work he was doing. Walking towards the light of his life, Abba soon turned to lay in their bed, wishing to give Bruno some space. The tired, nervous grump eyed his dark-haired leader with a quizzical eye. Why the hell does he work so hard? Though he admired the other’s work ethic, the man couldn’t help but roll his eyes at his boyfriend’s refusal to just go to bed.

“Come to bed Bruno… You of all people should know of the importance of sleep.” 

Bruno looked over at his boyfriend with a confused look on his face, before putting the papers aside and rubbing his tired eyes. 

“Why should I know the importance of sleep?” 

Deciding his sleepy love needed some physical assurance, Abbacchio smirked before getting up from the bed and walking behind his capo’s desk chair to encase him in his strong arms. Running his black painted nails over the leader’s chest, Leone made a point to trace his fingers along the lines of his lover’s lacey chest tattoo, not even needing to see it to get the lines right. It was a little tick that the taller man had that calmed both of them down. The fact that the ex-cop had his love’s body so perfectly memorized was a fact that they both relished in. Abbacchio looked down at his capo, an ache placing down on his heart. 

Damn, he loved this man so damn much. 

Raking his fingers through the other’s jet black hair and meticulously undid the other’s hairpins, as well as the braids atop his head, knowing all the actions that made the fierce stand user melt in his chair. Bruno sighed at the calculated touches and soon bit his lip, starting to breathe heavily. 

“Well? Why should I know the importance of sleep?” He muttered nervously. 

Abbacchio smiled. “Because I never let you get any.” 

Now, it was Bruno’s turn to roll his eyes, reaching around to playfully hit the other man’s arm before getting up from his desk. 

“Alright alright, I’ll come to bed. But we both know I’m the one that doesn’t let you sleep. You’re always begging for me so…” Leone pouted his bare lips. 

“Hey, we switch off…” Bruno smiled playfully, removing his suit top before tackling Leone onto the bed. 

“Then let’s see which one… happens… tonight.” 

Leone giggled as he watched his boyfriend’s attempt to dirty talk, only for it to be unfairly disrupted by his adorable yawning. He sighed and held his shorter companion in his arms as the two of them laid in bed together. 

“Alright… goodnight Bruno…” The capo blinked his eyes opened and rubbed Abbacchio’s arm. 

“I swear, I’ll take you out tomorrow night on a date to the Christmas fair. I’m just tired.”

Upon hearing his golden opportunity to propose that next day, Leone chuckled and kissed Bruno atop his head, telling his busy lover that he couldn’t wait.

Slipping the wedding band into the pocket of his overcoat, Abbacchio was just about ready to leave his room, staring at himself in the mirror and nodding. He was ready. He was gonna do it. He was finally going to man up. For Bruno’s sake. 

“Abba! Are you coming?! We need to get presents for everyone!” 

“Coming Buccellati!” 

Rushing down the stairs to join him, the two men soon leave the hideout into the snow-covered streets of Italy. It was Christmas Eve, the city abuzz with activity and the holiday spirit. Bruno, the ever-recognizable figure of the town, received his usual greetings. 

“Merry Christmas Signore Buccellati!” 

“Have a splendid holiday Buccellati!” 

“Buccellati! How about you join us for a drink? We’d be honored to spend a bit of the holiday with you!” 

Bruno courteously waved back to them all, until he was stopped in his tracks as his partner’s hand grasped his, their fingers snaking together. Bruno looked up to see Leone’s cheeks redden in jealousy. Abbacchio frowned. Sure, Bruno had an image he needed to upkeep, but it hurt that none of the people were acknowledging him. They knew his name as well. 

Bruno giggled a bit. “Jealous, Abba?” 

Leone grumbled until his gaze was directed towards the other’s ocean blue eyes. Bruno held his boyfriend’s face in his hands, stroking the other man’s sharp-angled cheekbones and jaw as if to soften them just as he softened the mafioso’s hard, tough interior. 

 “You know I love you, Leone… So much.” 

Just then, the snow began to come down harder than before, covering the two lovers in a white, wintery veil under the haze of the night. Bruno leaned up and brought his lips to Abbacchio’s, helplessly grabbing the other’s coat to remain at the taller man’s height. His lipstick painted lips smiling longingly, Moody Blues’ user wrapped his arms around Bruno, lifting him slightly off the ground. Bruno screamed from the change in altitude, causing them both to laugh, then give each other another short peck on the lips. 

Leone stared down at the love of his life. Bruno Buccellati… with his dark hair and hat covered in the white snow. With his red scarf wrapped tightly around his head to keep his sensitive ear warm, but still left a window open for his adorable freckles. With his bright eyes and even brighter smile. With his caring view of others, his willingness to protect, to be the light for others in the darkness. 

Leone gulped, he didn’t deserve him. 

Bruno shifted on his feet nervously as the young couple held one another under the heavy snowfall. The silence was bothering him. 

“Is everything alright Abbacchio?” Finally waking up from his thoughts, the taller man quickly nodded and decided it was time. 

“Everything is amazing Buccellati. I want life to be like this fore… ver.”

With a metaphorical punch to the gut, Bruno’s cell phone rang in his coat pocket, instantly grabbing the capo’s attention. Abbacchio closed his eyes, the interruption cutting deep as Bruno was pulled away from the moment again. Watching his boyfriend turn from a loving man to a calculating capo, Abbacchio soon became walking away and heading into one of the shops, wanting to clear his head. Bruno watched him leave, frowning deeply as he listened to his associate speak over the phone, his hand reaching into his pocket and taking a golden ring out, inspecting the initials of BB and LA engraved into the material. Bruno sighed, upset he had missed his chance. 

- - - - - - - -

The music gracefully flowed over the entire banquet hall, the food was being served, and secret negotiations were being made. There they were, all of Passione’s elite at Don Giovanna’s party, enjoying the immense wealth that the underground had bestowed upon them. Giorno sat in the front of the room, heavily guarded by his teammates and friends. The room, one that the Don had dubbed his second choice, glimmered with a golden sheen in the moonlight that evening. Flowers that Giorno had created himself adorned each table, as well as the perimeter of the dance floor, where the capos and other leaders were seen dancing with their partners. Everyone looked stunning. A song soon ended, with Bruno finishing his third courtesy dance with someone other than his own partner. A partner who was far too anxious to even consider dancing with his boyfriend. Mista watched his friend nervously fidget with his suit, rolling his eyes. The gunslinger watched Bruno walk over to Giorno, the capo nervously looking around the room for this love as he struck up a conversation with the head of Passione. The young blond and the gunslinger shared a glance before nodding, each turning to their respective lovesick friend. 

“Ask him already. He will say yes.” 

Mista asked Leone. Giorno asked Bruno. Both men pacing nervously back and forth, fiddling with their ring, not seeing the other at the other end of the dance hall. 

“Do you know that?” The two men asked. 

“Yes. Just trust me on this.” 

“What if he says no? I don’t deserve Bruno, Mista .”

           “What is he says no? I don’t deserve Abba, Giorno.”

Both friends sighed. “Don’t you love him?”

“...Of course I do.” 

“What do you love about him?” 

Giorno asked, causing Bruno to smile. Abbacchio smiled at Mista’s question. 

“I love how he’s not afraid to be himself.”

          “I love his patience, how he’s so willing to help me through all my dark                 times.” 

“I love his stubbornness. I love how he never backs down from a fight.”

          “I love his loud laugh when something is really funny.” 

“I love how amazing he looks in makeup.” 

          “I love how peaceful he looked waking up in the morning.”

“I love when he cooks for the two of us. He’s not very good but he tries… For me.”

          “I love when he asked me to be his boyfriend on the shores of Capri.”

                     “I love him. If it were up to me, I’d marry him right now.” 

                    “I love him so much Mista, so much. I need to go ask him.”  

Mista and Giorno both smiled, slapping their friend on the back before pushing the two men to the dance floor, only for the young couple to bump into each other. Both Leone and Bruno stared at each other with a small nervous laugh. Abbacchio gulped before taking Bruno’s hand in his. 

“Can we talk? Out on the balcony?” 

Bruno nodded quickly, pulling Leone along to the balcony of the large estate. The party far away, yet the music still pouring in, Leone moved to speak. 

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

Bruno’s eyes widened, the gears starting to turn in his head. “U-um… I have something as well.”

“Oh wait so you go first.”

“No no Abba. I insist.”

“No, really it’s… it’s stupid.” 

Bruno reached up and cupped his lover’s cheek, smiling sweetly. 

“Amore, with you, nothing could ever be stupid. I love you.”

Oh god, he was in love. Throwing caution to the wind, Leone swiftly grabbed the ring box from his pocket and knelt down, the bright moon shining over the city reflecting off the golden ring that he was presenting for his boyfriend. 

“Bruno Buccellati… you’ve made me the man I am today. I’ve grown so much as a person ever since meeting you, and I can only pray that you’ve grown since meeting me. Bruno… Caro… Will you marry me?”

A rush of tears flooded the young capo’s eyes as he vigorously nodded, his words failing him in the time of intense emotion. A giant smile formed over Leone’s face and all worries he had were washed away with the falling snow. Quickly slipping the band on his love’s finger, Abbacchio embraced his better half, his lips crashing down on Buccellati’s. The snow fell and nestled into their expensive clothes and into their styles hair, but neither man could bring himself to leave the other’s lips. When they finally broke for air, Bruno eyed the other’s bright red cheeks through the wispy hair of his bangs. Taking the moment of distraction, Bruno brought the ring out from his own pocket and slipped it on Leone’s finger. Abbacchio looked down at the luxurious ring on his unworthy finger, and his heart fluttered in his chest. 

“Is this what you were going to tell me?” Bruno nodded, his eyes squeezing shut with joy as his whole body was consumed with happiness. 

“You just got to it before I could. I want to spend the rest of my life with you Leone.”

The two fiances embrace under the heavy snowfall, both relishing in the other’s warmth. When they finally arrived back to their table for the meal, the couple found an envelope with a note written out to them. Immediately recognizing their teammates’ handwritings, both men remained embarrassed as they read the word: 

“We knew you could do it. 

To happiness and many years together. 

Merry Christmas you two.”

            - The Don and Friends

[strangerdeer]

Wig and Valentine

Wolfget and Awilda both feel it is something odd with Gilderoy Lockhart. Especially how he act with his hair.

An adventure that leads to Awilda never had the chance to go on a Valentine Date with Tulip. 

Wolfget Furtwrängler belongs to @meadowslittlebug​  Word count: 3 329 English is second language

Awilda rested her chin on her hand and sighed as she saw the crew of students flocking around Gilderoy Lockhart, everyone had read his books, everyone wanted to be like him, everyone wanted one look from him. He got his looks and a big smile and laughed when students asked “did you really do it?” Honestly it looked stupid. The girls and boys sighing over how great Lockhart was, they all admired him. Lockhart smiled big at them and touched lightly his hair, making sure it wasn’t messy. “Sitting here and admiring from afar?” Awilda looked up to her left and saw Wolfget Furtwrängler. He took a seat across from her and put down his bag on the bench. The Great Hall is usually empty between classes but now when Lockhart was here, it was rather filled up. “I think he doesn’t need my admiring, he gets it from all the others.” “You don’t like him either then?” “I don’t like old men who tries to impress others with golden lock hair,” she answered. “He is just four years younger than Professor Snape,” Wolfget pointed out. “No way!” Awilda glanced over at Lockhart with a confused look. “Imagine everyone surrendered Snape like that and admired him. That would look so damn weird.”

Wolfget just snorted at it and Awilda looked back at him when he spoke. “Expect he look old, why don’t you like him?” “I don’t know,” Awilda bit her under lip and tapped fast with her fingers on the table. “Lockhart is all about, ‘oh look what I did! Give me now your attention!’ It is all about him and his adventures.” Wolfget rolled with his eyes but had a smile to it. “I feel the same, a big talker but you don’t see him doing it.” “What if he lies about his adventures,” Awilda raised her eyebrows. “Wouldn’t surprise me,” Wolfget took a glimpse at the students who begged now for an autograph from Lockhart. “but people who has been on journeys with him would have said if he were bad, now they praise him for saving them.” “They do? I haven’t read his books,” Awilda has never bothered about Lockhart’s adventures, if they make history then she perhaps would read it. “Me neither, but that’s what they all say about him,” Wolfget sighed and in front of him appeared a glass of juice and he drank it. “Rough day at potion?” Awilda joked, knowing he got it after her. “What?” he dried his mouth with the sleeve and seemed sceptical at Awilda. “We had the ‘love potion’ like you did.” “Yeah? Was it rough?” “No… or well it seemed to work but you know,” Wolfget mumbled as he held the glass near his mouth. “It worked indeed,” Awilda said low too, it did smell flowers, lake, clean laundry, some kind of animal too? She knew she had smelled Tulip but she rather keep it to herself, she doesn’t want to ruin a friendship. “but the rumours are that Lockhart,” They both look over at Lockhart, it seems he wanted to leave the group of students, he held up his hands as he talked about how other students probably wants to meet him. Took back his head when a student wanted to feel on his hair. Awilda looks back at Wolfget and leans over to whisper; “that he tries to help students who had that Potion class, with the ‘love’!” “What? That can’t be true!” “It is though! He asks everyone in our year if we need any love tips.” “Who have you heard that from?!” “Talking about me?” Both Awilda and Wolfget jumped. Behind Awilda stood the one and only, Gilderoy Lockhart. He had a big grin that his shining white teeth could almost blind them, his golden hair looked newley brushed, and his golden suit was spotless from any dirt. With both of his hands on each of his side, he looked at the two big eyed (of fear) students. “I almost have super hearing when people whisper when I’m near them,” he chuckled. “Oh,” Wolfget said, making an exchanging look with Awilda, wondered if he had heard them. “Well no worries, I want to make sure all the students get a chance to talk to me, want me to sign your books?” Lockhart pointed at the books that Awilda had put next to her. She looked confused at the books and opened her mouth, small sounds just escaped of unsureness. Was surprised by the question, but even more surprised when Lockhart golden suit arm passed her and grabbed the book that were on the top and opened it to the first page. In his pocket he had a feather and started to sign. “And your name was?” He asked and peaked up from the book. “I never told you my name,” Awilda said low, still shocked over the act. Lockhart stared at her and then laughed loudly, making Wolfget look around, pretending he didn’t know Lockhart. “I’m sorry miss, what is your name?” “Awilda Flamel…” “Flamel,” Lockhart said and narrowed his eyes but still had a smile. “are you related to Sir Robert Flamel?” “I… I guess? But I have no idea who it is? Flamel tree is pretty big.” “Ah I see, but one of you are always famous for one thing, isn’t that right?” “I honestly don’t know about that,” Awilda almost whispered as she stared at him. Lockhart let out a humble and closed the book, a bit too hard, still had the big smile and handed over the book back. Awilda took the book and Lockhart turned to Wolfget, now it was his turn. Wolfget held his breath when he got eye contact with Lockhart. “Should I sign one of your books?” “Oh no it is all good,” Wolfget said. “I don’t want any doodles in my books.” “Nonsense, don’t be shy,” Lockhart said, leaned over and grabbed one of the books that poked out of the bag, opened up the first page. “ah, at least you write your name who the book belongs to.” “You don’t?” Wolfget looked at Awilda. “I don’t lose my stuff,” “What about that time you-” “I learned a lesson there to not forget them.” “Furtwrängler?” Lockhart felt that he didn’t get all the attention from the two students. “Aren’t you pretty involved with the Vaults? I have read a lot in the Daily Prophet.” Wolfget just leaned his head to left and right and shrugged. Well it wasn’t like he wished for being involved in it. He got simple dragged in to it. Everyone suddenly said he would help out and solve it. “I wished I could be there and help you,” Lockhart said while making his big sign all over the first page. “but it seems my needs is needed around the world and I can’t stay too long in one place, the work gotta go fast and then it is off to the next place!” “Maybe your needs are needed somewhere else right now,” Awilda said low and quiet, tapping her fingers at the table and looked over at Wolfget and he only nodded slightly. “Surely they need my help probably right now,” Lockhart hadn’t catch that he should leave. “but I would like to help out you two, I can’t let a Flamel nor a Vault seeker without some love tips.” Awilda raised her eyebrows at Wolfget with a small smirk, the rumours were true and Wolfget let out a heavy breath when he got back the book. He looked at the first page and sure enough, Lockhart’s sign were so big it covered half of Wolfget’s lastname. “I have heard your year got to know about Love Potion,” Lockhart said and grinned at them both. “and I know everyone can’t be quite as charming as me, but with a small help from me, your lover will swoon over you!” Wolfget and Awilda looked at Lockhart for a long moment before both of them got up. “Gosh would love that help,” Awilda said as she tucked her books in to the bag. “But we are late to Charms,” Wolfget filled in and Awilda pointed at Wolfget and nodded in agreement. “Exactly! We can’t be late,” “Well I take you as company there,” Lockhart said and seemed to be ready to walk with them. “you know I was also in Ravenclaw-” “Uh oh,” Awilda looked at her clock. “all this talking with you made us very late, would love to continue but we seriously have to run. Or else we get detention.” “I’m good friend with Professor Flitwick, I’ll explain to him when we meet him-” But before he could say anything more, both Wolfget and Awilda were running out of the Great Hall. “Is he behind us?” Awilda asks as she runs up towards the stairs. Wolfget took a glance back before continue the running. “Not what I can see.” They both stopped in the middle of the staircase as it moved. Both took their time to catch their breath. “Something with that man,” Wolfget said between his breaths. “makes me not trust him.” “The whole him is like,” Awilda rolled with her hand, trying to find words. “fake!” “I agree, even his hair seems oddly fake.” A silent fell over them and they looked first behind, to see if Lockhart was still after them, and then they looked back at each other. “Do you think-” Awilda was cut off. “I mean, he takes good care of it.” “And he doesn’t let anyone touch it.” “Seems very careful when it comes to his hair.” Awilda grinned at Wolfget and he held up his finger and shook his head. He knew that face too well. “No, I know what you are thinking and I’m not coming with you.” • • • Later that day, Lockhart stood near the lake with some of the few students, talking about how he swam across the lake and more of his silly adventures at Hogwarts when he was a student. Behind a tree stood Awilda and Wolfget. “I can’t believe I actually came with you,” Wolfget said low as he narrowed his eyes at Lockhart. “We are just going to see if it is actually a wig or not,” Awilda whispered and leaned back behind the tree. “and what is better than a powerful wind!” “Are you going to cast a spell?” Wolfget raised his eyebrows, his Prefect instincts was on, but he wanted to see how it all ended. He didn’t care at all what would happen to Lockhart. “I asked Professor Flitwick what spell makes a powerful wind and it is Ventus. I got to only see how you are suppose to flick with your wand.” Awilda showed the movement for Wolfget. “But I didn’t have time to actually learn how to cast it so Lockhart is the first victim for this spell.” “This seems like a bad idea,” Wolfget said, worried that the spell could backfire at them two. “It is only bad when it goes bad,” Awilda held her wand ready and glanced behind the tree. Lockhart stood with both of his hands on his side, proudly told more the students about himself and told them some vampire stuff from what Wolfget and Awilda could hear. Awilda raised her wand and flicked with with it. “Ventus!” Nothing happened, Awilda looked down on her wand and shaked it. “Stupid wand.” “I think you made the movement to aggressive,” Wolfget took his wand out and stood next to Awilda. “Do more like this, Ventus.” And it worked. But he hadn’t point it exactly at Lockhart but it went in his direction. The students closed their eyes to the hard wind that came, their hair flew in the wind and they got the dirt up in the face and on their clothes. And Lockharts hair also flew. Actually flew. High up in the sky, flew a blonde wig around. Both Wolfget and Awilda had their mouth open as they followed their eyes on the wig that flew above the lake. With a shout, Awilda and Wolfget had their eyes back on the ground, Lockhart had been fast to pull up his cloak over his head to cover his boldness. “Quick students,” Lockhart said to the students who hadn’t had the chance to see his lack of hair. “a dangerous spell has been casted on us. Hurry inside while I take care of it!” Awilda and Wolfget were fast to hide behind the tree again as the students ran past them to the safety. They both bent down to the ground and made sure they wouldn’t be seen. “Merlin’s beard,” Wolfget mumbled. “Holy shit! He is actually bold!” Awilda said and shook Wolfget. “We should totally catch the wig so we can show it to the others.” Awilda poked her head out from the spotting place. She couldn’t see either Lockhart or the wig.  “Where did he go?” Wolfget looked as well. The spell had went down and they couldn’t see the wig flying in the blue sky anymore. “You,” The two teenagers looked behind them. Lockhart stood there with the wand in his hand. His hair were back on his head but it looked wrong, as it sat not how it should. Wolfget and Awilda had big eyes on him. If not his wand was pointed at them, they perhaps would have laughed at his hair but now they were worried what a grown up would do to them. Awilda pressed her back towards the tree, they couldn’t run away. “Trying to ruin my reputation? Don’t you think I recognise a Ventus spell?” “We practiced some spells,” Awilda were quick to say. “We didn’t know you would stay in the way,” Wolfget followed along with the lie. “we are sorry sir.” “Won’t happen again!” “From the first moment,” Lockhart spoke slowly. “I saw you in the Great Hall, I knew you two didn’t like me. You two sat far away and looked at me weirdly. And now you try to pick on me, huh? Is it also you two who has been through my stuff? Taken my rings?!” Both Wolfget and Awilda shook their heads, but they knew probably one who took them. Sickleworth. Rakepick had left Sickleworth behind at Hogwarts after disappearing, and now Sickleworth take stuff that he thinks is shining. “I suppose you also read through my stuff,” Lockhart had a threatful tone. “how much do you know?” Wolfget and Awilda looked at each other, this wasn’t according to the plan. And they didn’t know what he was talking about either. They glanced back at Lockhart, confused and waited for an explanation. “Don’t play stupid! You saw I stole from another wizard about fighting the werewolves!” “You stole!?” Wolfget repeated. “You stole about fighting the werewolves and published it as your own?” “Is that why that useless spell didn’t work?” Awilda followed along. She remember the first halloween when werewolves came to Hogwarts and Barnaby’s uncle came over. He used a spell that was invented by Lockhart but it didn’t work. “Did you make that spell up?!” “His version wasn’t all excitement,” Lockhart had an unpleasing smile on his face. “one spell I do know though, is about to make you two forget about this.” They both got big eyes. He was going to oblivate them! “You have no right to do that!” Awilda spitted out, leaned forward now. “You end up in Wizard Court and perhaps Azkaban as well,” Wolfget narrowed his eyes. “Do not worry,” Lockhart chuckled. “I know how to do this spell, I have done it plenty of other times on those who follow on my journeys. And I know already what I will tell the others when I get back with two students who doesn’t remember a thing.” He had a grinning face as he said it. “I can already see the headlines by Rita Skeeter; Lockhart saved two students from the dangerous wizard who seek the Vaults! I told you two, I follow very along with Daily Prophet and thanks to the gossip children, I know about the Wizard in White Robes. You two should thank me for making you famous.” “Right,” Wolfget said with a growling voice, annoyed by this villain talk. “but I think you forget one thing.” Wolfget held up his wand against Lockhart and so did Awilda. “Expiliarmus,” Wolfget were quick to say and Lockhart’s wand flew high up in the sky. “Ventus!” Awilda shooted at the flying wand and it flew far away, so it would be hard for Lockhart to run after it. “Oh wow, did you see I could cast it now?” Wolfget stood now straight up from the ground and he was much taller than Lockhart, Lockhart looked up on the young boy and a nervous chuckle came from him. “I think it has been some misunderstanding here,” Lockhart trembled with his words along with some laughs in between. “Thought you would say so,” Awilda also stood up and held her wand towards Lockhart. Before any of the teenagers could say anymore, Lockhart were quick to leave, holding one hand on his head and towards where his wand had flew. Awilda grabbed Wolfget and they ran towards the castle, to there it is a lot of people and there Lockhart can’t do any harm. • • • “We have to tell someone!” Awilda whispered when they were in the library, hoping Lockhart wouldn’t look there. “He were about to oblivate us, and he admitted he stole from others and have oblivated them too! Claiming he is the one who did all the great stuff!” “But you forget one thing Awilda,” Wolfget shout whispered. “we have no evidence! We aren’t even sure if he were going to oblivate us or if he simple threaten us.” “That is worse,” Awilda pointed out and Wolfget nodded, couldn’t deny that. “but we could tell McGonagall.” Wolfget sighed, he had rather kept this a secret but now he were about to tell Awilda, to make sure he won’t be in any sort of trouble. “Awilda, I have a date on Valentine’s day. I actually for one day want to have something nice and different for once. To forget the Vaults, all the adults who betray children, to forget about my so supposed-” He stopped himself and Awilda looked down. She knew he meant his brother. “But I suppose I can’t even have that date peacefully,” Wolfget mumbled. “now I got to tell Barnaby that…” He toned out, he didn’t mean to tell who he was going with. But what did that matter? Now when Lockhart is at their throats he would have to cancel the date and rather stay hidden to make sure to not rush in to Lockhart. “No you are going on that date,” Awilda whispered, making sure that Mrs Pince wouldn’t get upset. “I put you in the situation. If you are worried about Lockhart coming after you, then you forget that I happen to know three of the biggest troublemakers on Hogwarts.” “You surely don’t mean you going to keep him busy the whole time?” Wolfget sighed and already knew who she meant, Tulip, Tonks, and Jae. “Of course I mean that! I will be his biggest threat, and I’m sure Tulip and Tonks want to see who first of them can take off his wig.” Wolfget turned to look at Awilda and she smiled at him. “I can make sure you will have a calm date, Lockhart will be running after me, not you.” “You’re sure you can do it?” “As long you don’t stop me with your Prefect duties,” she jokes and Wolfget only rolled with his eyes. “I am pretty sure I can do it.” “Right,” he nodded. “maybe in the future after all of this, we can expose him.” “Hopefully no one else get the chance to expose him before we do.” “Or worse,” Wolfget smiled a little. “oblivate him.”

[wheremytwinwatches]

[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 3

Time for more Brotherhood! When we last left off, we got the backstory on the Elric Brothers, and they were off to investigate rumors of ‘miracles’ by a priest that I don’t think is quite on the up and up, given all the oh-so-subtle “THIS IS A BAD GUY” clues in the last post-credits. But hey, I’ve been wrong before. Let’s get started!

Hmm. Same “Alchemy 101” intro from last episode, should I count the mention of “Equivalent Exchange” here if this shows up each time? I’m happy just spotting it in normal dialogue, but I’ll leave it up to you guys if I should include this mention. Urgh, seeing smiling Mama Elric is still a kick in the gut. Still don’t know some of the characters here, but looking forward to meeting them. Maybe not the Goths so much. We’re at the town! And there’s a [Radio Voice]? Is this the (corrupt) priest? Who… huh, he’s preaching about the “Sun God Leto”. This the primary religion in this setting, or just one guy who’s all “Praise the Sun!” NPC Shopkeeper is asking if the Elrics are street performers in their getups. Gotta admit, Al’s pulling off an impressive loom here, leaning on the counter. “Street performer” wouldn’t be my first guess looking at the giant fanged suit of armor. Ed in his red cloak, however… yeah, gotta side with NPC Shopkeeper here. And really Ed, what did you expect? Why would he ask if you were a carny unless he thought you might be? Oops! Watch your head, Al! Don’t break the poor guy’s radio! Well, that’s smashed. But nothing a little Alchemy can’t fix, right? [Energetic Strings] as Al preps the TC, and a crowd of curious villagers are looking on. And tada, good as new! Smug Ed is proud of- “Amazing, it’s a miracle! You’ve been touched by the Sun God, just like Father Cornello!” No no, it’s alchemy! But to their credit, the villagers come around quickly at the mention of the Elric Brothers, are pleased to meet… *sigh*. Saw that coming a mile away. Wavy-armed Al has to correct his well-meaning friends, point out the “little guy”. Who does not appreciate the running gag. Episode 03: “City of Heresy” So now that that little misunderstanding is out of the way, Ed asks the now-terrified villagers about the voice on the radio. Shopkeep and [Man 1] talk about their leader Father Cornello, who came into town with some pretty big claims, up to bringing the dead back to life. Ed says that’s something he needs to see. And here’s the priest, smiling to a huge crowd of cheering villagers as glowing roses rain from the sky. On of his miracles? And the crowd goes nuts as he catches one of them, and then a bright red glow later it’s a large crystal? Not sure what he just did, but something about that shade of red… just didn’t seem that wholesome to me. Again, trying to reserve judgement, but not getting the best impression of you right now, Father. The Brothers are watching the show, Al says that there’s no doubt it’s alchemy. But somehow he’s ignoring the Law of Equivalent Exchange? EEC: 4 Oh, I see! Normal rules would be that you can’t add mass or change organic matter into inorganic, but here he is catching a rosebud and making a great big crystal statue. And you can’t do that, unless… But that ring on his finger can’t really be a Philosopher’s Stone, could it? That’s like the end-all of this magic system. I could buy one showing up earlyish in this series, but the third episode? Let alone as a tool of a minor villain. Heck, either the Goths or the Government should have already swooped in and taken this, no sane power-block would let such an artifact remain out of their control for long. Anyways, inside the chapel a lady with striking red highlights is praying for “him” to be brought back, when Ed and Al show up. Lady, who captions have named Rose, asks if they are interested in Letoism. So she works for Cornello? Or just a religious villager? But nah, Ed says he’s not really the “religious” type. Given we’ve seen him encounter a demon who claimed to be God, I can understand his position. Rose is sorry to hear that, saying that to know God is to know hope, that through divine grace all things are possible. I’d rather not have religion get pulled into this Watch, but I can- “If you believed… I’m sure Leto would bless you and make you grow taller!” ...wow, ok then. I’m just gonna put away my heartfelt religion discussion, and just sit back and laugh at Al holding Ed back. Come on dude, she’s so sincere she’s got “Sincere” above her head! Don’t hate the messenger! Anyways, back to the topic at hand. How’s about this “bringing the dead back to life” business, does Rose believe in that as well? She does, and in the face of so much optimism Ed just pulls out a ratty notebook and starts reciting… chemical compositions… oh dear. Yeah, Rose has no idea what all this chemistry is about. Ed hunches over, talking about how the chemical composition of the human body has been calculated down to the last microgram, but still no successful human transmutations. And here Rose is saying that they can do with prayer something that modern science can’t do? Rose starts reciting scripture… and Ed holds no punches, explaining any kid could buy those ingredients down at the market for pocket change. “As it turns out humans are pretty cheap.” Hoo boy. This is turning into a proper religion v. science slugfest, isn’t it? And I really, REALLY don’t want to open up that particular can of worms on the Internet, but… Ed’s saying that Alchemists are scientists, they don’t believe in unprovable concepts like creators or gods. And heck, with the progress of science they’ve gotten the power to play gods themselves… Rose takes offense to this sheer arrogance. And Ed… brings up the myth of Icarus? Oooh, topical, isn’t it. About how someone flew too close to the sun and came crashing back down to earth. Al… Ed jumps up and asks if Father Cornello could save an arrogant scientist like him, which Rose jumps upon. *Sigh* Rose isn’t going to have a good time this episode, is she? Higher in the chapel, someone named Cray is talking to Father Cornello, saying a child and a man in a suit of armor wish to see him. Cornello is scowling out the window, says he can’t be bothered right now and to send them away. What’s the trouble, Father? But then he recognizes the Elric name, and- Oooh! Bad Father, you just swore in church! Both men are upset at realizing that the Fullmetal Alchemist (“The man in the armor?” “Dressing the part, it would seem.” Ha!) has come calling? Oh wow you guys are definitely bad, scowling and muttering about your “plans” to ominous string music. It seems Cray is leading the Elrics now, saying that they’re in luck, he can spare a moment of his time. Ed says they won’t take too much, and Cray- gun! Brother Cray has pulled a gun… and is pointing it at Al, while two guys in robes with staves block Ed. Yeah, not too worried about this, although Rose is. Cray claims that they are evil heathens come to discredit the Father, to which Ed agrees to make it quick and instantly takes down the Robes. And Armor Punch to the unfortunate Cray’s face! Father Cornello emerges from the shadows, welcoming them to the hope of their ‘sacred order’ and “apologizing for his disciples’ behavior”. Ed doesn’t buy it for a second, demanding to know how Cornello has been using Alchemy to deceive the villagers. Cornello claims that it’s the work of Leto, creating a statue in his hands as proof of something Alchemy couldn’t do. And Ed agrees, saying he didn’t get how he could just ignore the Law of Equivalent Exchange. EEC: 5 Poor Rose, looking back and forth between the increasingly irate Father Cornello and the angry Edward, who calls out Cornello’s ring as a Philosopher’s Stone. Cornello keeps claiming to be “God’s humble servant”, so Ed says he’ll just have to beat the Truth out of him. Cornello… what. Dude. Dude, NO. That is messed up. Cornello just told Rose to pick up the fallen gun. And then shoot the Fullmetal Alchemist. Thankfully Rose is shocked at that order, says she can’t do that. But Cornello says that his word is that of Leto himself, and finally opens one eye to look down on them. “Shoot him, Rose. It’s God’s will.” Bad Father, very very bad Father! Rose? Rose, honey, please put down the gun. Aw crud, and now Cornello’s bringing up the loss of her fiance, reminding her of a promise; if she had faith, he’d bring him back to life. And with that, she’s pointed the gun at… Al. Ok, that’s ok, we can work with aw damnit Al shut up! You’re the suit of armor, take the name for just a few minutes! And oh my god Ed just shut up shut up stop getting pissed that people keep mistaking your brother for you. “Person about to shoot the Fullmetal Alchemist” is not the time to insist that you’re the Fullmetal Alchemist! And aw crud, Cornello’s shocked that it’s “the short one”. You dun goofed. Ok, back to the gun. Rose is apologizing, saying she has no choice. Ed tries to convince her that Cornello’s been lying, but she’s still believing in the Father’s “miracles”. So Ed tells her to shoot, and- Al! Rose fired blindly and hit Al’s helmet! On the one hand, impressive shot if it had been intentional. On the other hand, what the hell Rose?! Rose rightfully drops the gun in shock and starts screaming, Cornello smugly says that “God Leto is pleased”. And then tells her to pick the gun back up and shoot the other as well. And then the headless suit of armor sits back up and chides Cornello for making her do enough already! Ha! Take that, fake priest! [Exciting Music] starts up as Cornello blathers about Al being an abomination, how the ‘evil’ must be purged… and pulls a switch? Gah, manticore! Manticores are a thing in this setting! Cornello says his chimera should be up to the task. Or not a manticore? In the light it looks like the front half of a lion, and the back half of a rat. Edward calmly summons a spear, further shocking Cornello at the lack of a TC. But… ooh, the chimera just sliced right through the weapon. Seems the claws are sharp enough to “tear through iron”. Maybe Al should step back? Ah, nevermind. Ed’s pants may have been shredded, but the chimera’s claws didn’t do jack against his steel automail leg. And a bite attack likewise failed against his automail arm. And the pieces finally click into place for Cornello… wait, hold on. This seems really familiar for some reason… didn’t we just go through all this two episodes ago? Yeah, we did! This is almost word for word from Ep 1! Failed attack against an automail limb, Al getting his head knocked off, bad guy smugly accusing them of breaking the “No Human Transmutation” rule… you guys were saying this was the first proper episode in the manga, right? How Brotherhood’s first episode was mostly to show off the characters, and they put all the backstory into the second? Not saying this is bad or anything, just figured I should mention it. Poor, poor Rose. You’ve had a rough day, haven’t you? And good grief Cornello shut up, stop blathering about their attempting human transmutation. I don’t know exactly why you’re evil, beyond your earlier attempts to kill these boys for getting too close to your “plans”, but you are not helping your case right now. Yup, there it is, you just insulted their arrogance for trying to bring someone dead back to life. Remind me, what was your promise to Rose? Al plaintively asks for Cornello to hand over the stone before he gets hurt. It goes over about as well as you could expect, Transmuting his cane into a good grief is that a minigun? I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, you are a terrible priest! Ed blocks the shots with Earthbending, boasting about he and God don’t get along very well, as Al swoops up Rose and gets her out of the line of fire. Or not really, because Cornello takes aim at them and starts blasting away, Rose only protected by Al’s bulk. And Ed… ha! Ignores the door and Transmutes a new one to get past the hapless disciples, and the brothers prance off down the hallway as gun-toting Father Cornello runs out and orders them to chase. Brothers are running along, but a couple of disciples have blocked off the end of the hallway, saying that’s far enough. Ed just laughs and goes full Alex Mercer on them. Disciple Group #2 are waiting in the wings… and their boss gets a Armor Boot to the face. Next! Now they’re… up in the clocktower? Al’s doing something to the bell, talking to Rose who is understandably upset. Al says that they aren’t evil. They just wanted to see their mom’s smile again. And guh guh don’t show that Thing again get it away, we already know it failed don’t show us again. Al goes on to talk about how Alchemy’s based on the Law of Equivalent Exchange- EEC: 6 -and how the price of their failed attempt was enormous, costing Ed his left leg and Al his entire body. And then Ed gave up his arm to bind Al to the armor. Now they’re on a mission, Al to restore Ed to his original body, and Ed to do likewise to Al. It won’t be easy, but it’s the path they chose. All they can do is keep moving. And here’s the sticking point, Cornello’s “promise” to Rose. And true to her optimism, she still has hope, going so far as to say that even if the Elrics failed, that doesn’t mean he will. Poor, poor Rose. Back inside, Cornello runs past a room… and then looks back in, finding Ed sitting on a desk. Cornello’s office? Ed seems confident, is he planning something? Wait, what? “Tell me what I need to know and I’ll be on my way... “ Cornello. Cornello, buddy, tell me you aren’t going to fall for that… oh my Sun God, really? You can’t seriously believe after all you’ve done that Ed will just walk away after a few questions. He’s obviously stalling for whatever Al was doing. *Sigh* Fine, whatever. What’s your deal, Cornello? Why waste time with these phony ‘miracles’ when you can ignore Equivalent Exchange? Oh? So you’re attracting disciples with your ‘miracles’, building an army of fanatics? As unimpressed as Ed is, it’s not actually the worst plan. Why do everything yourself when you can convince some schmucks to do it for you? I mean, they won’t last a second against the State Alchemists, but whatever. Although it’s still not answering the question of “why”. Why do you need an army? Why do you want to use the Philosopher’s Stone to “tear the country apart”? Heck, ignoring your stupid offering of a ‘slice’ of the country to Ed (do you really think he’d go for that?), I still want to know how you got a Philosopher’s Stone, and why someone smarter hasn’t beaten you up for it already. Alright, whatever. [evil laughter], glowing white eyes, cast in shadow. Are you done monologuing? Because it’s probably time for Al to come busting down the door or whatever. “Wait, what are you laughing about?” You, dude. You are just cartoonishly evil. You got nothing on Mr. Freeze. See, Ed’s even calling you a novice! Evil Overlord List, Cornello. Read it. Wait, what? “On”? No. YES. YES. On Switch + Microphone = Dawning Realization the Radio Transmitter was turned on, plugged into the Church Bell Transmuted into a Loudspeaker. “There were never any miracles, Rose…” Shut up Al don’t ruin this moment for me! Ok, moment slightly redeemed by the “Are you f*cking kidding me” looks on the disciples’ faces. Here I was thinking Ed was recording it maybe, delaying for Al to show up and knock his teeth out? But transmitting Cornello’s monologue over the entire town? Genius. I am standing up and applauding, I am not even kidding. Oh man, these reaction cuts are gold, NPC Shopkeeper in particular looks pissed. Even the dog is shocked! Ok, ok. Give me a second to breathe… Just give it up, Cornello. You aren’t talking your way out of this one. And stop trying to fight, Ed way outclasses you. And… ouch, your Transmutation on your damaged gun just failed, looks like it melded with your arm? A rebound, like the failed Human Transmutation? Yep, Cornello’s lost it, yelling about being the ‘chosen emissary of the Sun God Leto’. Cut to the chapel, and Hulk-Cornello just smashed through. They’re smashing the place up, Cornello still ranting about being the Fist of God (does he really believe in Leto?), to which Ed Transmutes the great big statue to give him what he asked for. And Cornello’s down, like the half-baked villain he is. Now Ed can grab the… Philosopher’s Stone? It just stopped glowing and fell to the ground before dissolving. I mean, way too early for Ed to get the Quest Item, but still. Ed’s all shocked, saying the Stone is supposed to be the perfect material. So it was fake? But then how did Cornello do all that? Speaking of, the guy is just whining and whimpering now that he apparently can’t Transmute anymore. And Ed just… lets him go, yells at him to get out of there? Dude, arrest him! Guy was brainwashing a village, tried to have you killed, and was working to take over the country (no way he would have succeeded, but still). Don’t just let him get away! But apparently he does, it’s later as the Elric Brothers are talking outside the chapel. Come on, perk up guys. Just because this was a dead end- Rose, what the hell?! Put the gun down! Didn’t you hear him, it was a fake! And whoa, accusing them of keeping it for themselves? To get their bodies back, and bring back- Oh. Huh. Apparently that’s not even a consideration. “People don’t come back from the dead, Rose. Not ever… Not ever…” So, it really is just a quest to get their bodies back? Not to bring back Mama Elric? Rose collapses, crying about how Cornello promised her, that if she was faithful a miracle would occur. Without that hope, what is she supposed to believe in now? She’s begging them, asking what to do… and the Brothers walk right by her. Dudes, not cool. Don’t just leave her like this. “I can’t tell you that. You have to figure it out. Stand up and walk. Keep moving forward. You’ve got two good legs. So use them. You’re strong enough to make your own path.” ...while I admire the intent behind the message (and is this the show that Monty Oum’s catchphrase of “Keep moving forward” came from?), I can’t help but think that this isn’t he best time. Rose has just had her world destroyed, the source of her faith uprooted, the hope of getting her fiance back shattered. She needs something a little more gentle than “suck it up”. Later that night, seems the entire village has gathered, the [angry mob yelling] for Cornello. Inside the chapel, Cornello is clutching his new metal arm and ranting about the little brat… until another voice interrupts him? Lust? The lady’s complaining that they should have just incited a rebellion, while the fat guy chews on one of the chimera’s legs, then says he’s hungry and asks to eat the old man. Lust tells Gluttony no, she doesn’t want to risk indigestion. Cornello does not appreciate being mocked, says he won't SWEET LETO WHAT THE HELL Um, so Lust apparently has Terminator 2 claws on her glove, just stabbed Cornello through the forehead. Camera pans to an ouroboros-like symbol above her bust? Anyways, Cornello dead. Lust complains about ‘Father’ not being pleased about starting from scratch- Gluttony? Gluttony, no. Gluttony NO. No eating him. Don’t you- Ok, didn’t not need to see that. Well ok! Good episode, some parts seemed a little bit repetitive, drawn from the previous two I guess? But good overall, more establishment of the Elrics and setting stuff up for future episodes. So what’s up next? Riza! Doing paperwork! Seems the Elrics travel to the Eastern Command Center and to report to Colonel Roy Mustang (name is still manly). And there they meet the Sewing Life Alchemist? Oh, so bio-alchemy’s a thing? I guess with the divide between organic and inorganic matter, with all the Earth and Waterbending we’ve seen so far time to see the other side. And will this get us details on that chimera that Cornello made? Oh hey, is that a Cerberus? Looks like a three-headed dog in a cage, captured experiment or what? Episode 04: “An Alchemist’s Anguish” “Some meetings in this life are destined only for heartbreak.”

[thorscock-y]

Shhh......

Request: I know you’re full of requests but since it’s thanksgiving, just want to drop this here: Chris meeting girlfriend family on thanksgiving and she only has a single bed in her room SO they fixed a mattress for him to sleep on it. But oh boy he has other ideas for the night and they have to be super quiet? Cause it’s a small house?

Author’s Note: I spent a full day working on this and yeah it took a long time so feedback is fucking encouraged. 

Warnings: Smut, fingering, unprotected sex,Chris kind of being a dom and some fluffy Chris. NSFW images. 18+ readers only. 

Disclaimer: No gifs or images belong to me. Rightful credit to owners. 

Masterlist

You tapped your foot on the floor of the airplane while sipping on your wine rather quickly. Wine is supposed to be something you sip but by the way you were drinking it might as well be a glass of milk on Christmas Eve. It was just the nerves running through your body. You were really nervous about Chris meeting your family on Thanksgiving tomorrow.

“Sweetie, that’s your second glass.” Your boyfriend, Chris, said. He reached over and took it from out of your hands setting it on the tray in front of him. “What’s up with you?”

You look over at him, and into his concerned looking eyes. How could you lie to those beautiful blue eyes, when he looked like this it made you so weak? You hated that about him, but loved it at the same time.

“Okay, I guess I’m just a little nervous.” His face contorts with confusion as if he’s asking you to elaborate on why you’re nervous. “It’s just that…….” You position your body in the chair so you’re facing him. “You’re famous you know, and you’re used to being in big houses and nice places. Where I’m from I’ve never had that. I don’t know, I guess I’m just kind of afraid of being judged.” The last words were mumbled as you looked anywhere but his face to ease how uncomfortable you were talking about this.

“That’s what you’re worried about? Seriously, you must forget how humble I was raised and it pains me that you think I would judge you.” When he says “pains” he leans back holding his heart in a dramatic way, making you giggle a little. He’s always been one to make you laugh.

“Chrisssssss, I’m serious.” You say, grabbing at his arm.

“I know. I am too. Honey, I don’t care about the size of your house, all I care about is,” He leans over and as he’s about to kiss you, he’s interrupted by what sounds like two grown men.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt Mr. Evans.” You and Chris look too see, as you assumed, two guys, one even wearing a long sleeve captain America shirt.

“Oh hey guys what’s up? Awesome shirt by the way.” It was the usual; you held the camera and took pictures of them and they said friendly goodbye’s still gushing over the fact that they had really just met Chris Evans. They kept calling him Captain America and before they left they saluted him. You looked down and chuckled. Now that was new. You had never seen a fan do that.

When he sat back down, you were grinning at him and he rolled his eyes. “What?” He questioned, probably already knowing what you’re gonna say.

“Hi, captain.” You say then began to laugh as he just shakes his head and looks down.

“Okay, anyway back to what I was saying,” He puts his hand on your cheek, moving your face to look at him. You’re still laughing a little. “All I care about is you, not your house, not your money, only you.”

You smile at him lovingly and hold his hand that’s lying on your face. How could you have been so lucky to meet a wonderful guy like him?

“Okay?” He asks, soothing your cheekbone with his thumb.

You nod and sigh. “Okay.” He leans over and kisses your lips for a few seconds before pulling away.

“Besides, I think your dad and I will bond over the fact that I am the one and only, Captain America baby.”

“Yes, he’ll definitely love that. He’s been team cap from the jump. The only problem is my brother. He’s team iron man.”

“Oh goodness, hopefully we don’t have to go into battle.” He winks at you and nudges your arm. “Get it, get it, because we went into battle in the movie.”

You once again laugh. “You are literally so cheesy.”

In the next few hours you arrive in your home town. You immediately see your family in the airport waiting for you, with your name on a card. With tears rushing down your face, you rush over to your mom, hugging her tightly. She’s crying as well, holding you tight. It had been so long since you had seen her ever since you went off to college in California. You hadn’t seen any of your family since tickets were so expensive to go back and forth. Chris being the wonderful guy he is paid for your tickets since you told him about your little money problem.

Next you hugged your dad, and he kissed you all over your face. While he was doing that, your mother went over and introduced yourself to Chris. Once you turned around you were happy to see that they were already hitting it off very well. She was laughing hysterically at some joke he said, you were assuming. Honestly, you’re pretty sure Chris could make Steve Bannon laugh and Steve Bannon is a very unhappy person.

“He’s definitely a keeper.” Your mother said, giving him a pat on the back.

“Um, I think I’ll determine that.” Your dad said.

“Dad, be nice.” You scolded. “You promised you would.” You leaned over and whispered in his ear.

“Alright, alright.” Your dad said, giving in.

To your surprise on the ride home, they began to bond very quickly as well. Chris was a very talkative guy and good at making conversation. You already knew this about him but you weren’t sure if it was going to go well considering these are your parents. He was seriously perfect in every way. No guy that you’ve brought home has become friends with your parents that fast.

“Sorry about how small the bed is.” You apologized as you blew up a mini mattress on the floor. “I totally forgot that it wouldn’t have been able to fit the both of us.”

“Baby, seriously it’s fine, you don’t have to keep apologizing.” He reassured. He stood up next to you, watching you. “And you’re house is actually very cozy, not too big, not too small. I don’t know what you were worried about.”

“Well you know…….” You glance up at him. “You’ve been living in mansions; I would think my house would be a little cottage compared to yours.”

“Hey,” He leaned down and got eye level with you so you know he was being serious with you. “None of that matters to me, and your families lovely. Even though your brother and I got into a little playful banter.”

“Oh my gosh, that was so funny.” You backtrack to the dinner you had had before heading to your bedroom. Your brother was discussing the pros of having a contract between the avengers and the government while Steve was opposing it. The whole table was practically dying. “By the way, you know you don’t have to sleep on this mattress. I’m just laying it here so my parents think you will. They were pretty strict about this stuff growing up and well…………they sort of still are.”

“Oh really, so we’re sleeping in the same bed?” He asks and you can hear the hint of seduction in his voice.

“No, mister, you better not. These rooms are practically right next to each other.” You remembered the nights of hearing your older brother and the girls he used to sneak in. Every moan could be heard and it was a nightmare. You cringe at the memory.

“Okay, okay. I won’t.” Of course he’s lying; he already has a little fun planned out for you.

Later on that night, after he gets out of the shower, he lays down next to you. The bed is really small, barely fitting the both of you but you make do for now. You’re sleeping on your side, so he wraps his arm around your waist spooning you. You can smell the man soap he previously just used and you smile a little, loving the scent. Wanting to touch him, you wrap your hand in his that’s on your waist and lean more into his body. This action causes you to feel his dick against your ass and you move forward in surprise.

“No, no, cm’ere.” He whispers pulling you back to him so you once again felt him against your ass. You’re dressed in a thong and a large white night shirt that falls off of your shoulder a bit

“Chris, where are your clothes?” You move your hand behind you to feel his bare chest. He’s not wearing a shirt and by how close you can feel his cock, he seems to not being wearing pants either.

“Baby, it’s okay.” He kissed on the back of your neck, pulling you flush against him.

“Chris, honey, we can’t-“ Your cut off midsentence by the feeling of his fingers inching down your stomach slowly. You breath hitches in your throat and you’re not sure of weather you should stop him or let him continue.

“Shh, let it happen.” Once his fingers dip in the pool of wetness under the fabric of your thong, he groans in your ear, loving the feeling of your soaked folds. “I’ve barely touched you and you’re already soaking, damn baby.”

You can’t help but moan a little at his words. He quickly reaches around and covers your mouth with his other hand.

“You gotta be quiet.” He says lowly in your ear, then trails kisses down the side of your neck while rubbing slow, gentle circles on your clit.

“Mmm,” You whimper into his hand and suddenly become relaxed into his hands. You just pray your parents won’t walk in or worse your brother.

He runs his two thick fingers over your slit, spreading your wetness all over your lips to make it easier for his fingers to move. You grab his arm that is over your waist and grip tightly, needing to hold on to something. You grip the sheet with the other hand clenching your eyes shut, trying not to make too many noises. He pressed his middle and ring finger inside of you and you gasped in surprise.

His fingers curled forward, sliding in and out of you. At this particular action your legs began to tremble just a bit. He put his leg over yours to keep you from moving so much. His fingers sped up, just a bit, a slow but delicious pace. You can hear the wet sounds of his fingers moving in your pussy, and it makes the moment even hotter than it already was. You feel his thumb join the fun; rubbing your clit lazily. His fingers pummeled into you without stopping hoping to find your g-spot soon enough. He knew that when he hit it, you’d be done for in seconds.

“Oh baby, you’re so perfect.” He sucks on the junction between your jaw and neck, pushing you more towards the edge.

“Fuck, right there.” You say but it’s muffled by Chris’s hands. He knows what you’re talking about. As soon as he rubs against your spot, your hips jolt forward a little bit, letting you know you’re almost there. Involuntarily your nails began to dig into his arm, your other hand bound to rip your sheets by how hard you’re clenching them.

He fingers you harder and deeper, applying harder pressure to your clit. By this rate you can feel your climax approaching you fast and hard, the coil in your stomach beginning to unloosen. You moan loud into his hand, not being able to control it anymore. As you feel yourself about to let go, he removes his hand from your mouth and gets down in between your legs.

He doesn’t waste a moment more as he begins to lick and suck on your clit; the pace of his fingers not stopping. Quickly you put a hand over your mouth while the other goes down to his hair, gripping it tightly. The familiar feeling approaches you, your stomach tightens and the muscles of your pussy hold on to Chris’s fingers before letting go. You come all over his face and fingers while moaning into your hand. You grab a pillow and bite onto it so you’re moans are less loud. Chris gives your pussy a few more kisses, with a few more pumps inside of you.

He sits up on his knees, looking down at your panting chest. You look so cute. He smirks and leans down, pressing his lips firmly against yours. You realized you missed the way his soft lips felt against yours so you kissed him harder. His tongue licked your bottom lip giving you a chance to taste what he had previously eaten. You.  

In the middle of kissing you, he grips his cock in his hand and rubs it over your slit, pausing to slap it against your clit. You moan into his mouth at the feeling. To get a better angle, Chris pulls away from kissing you and lifts your legs over his arms. Looking down in between your bodies he angles his cock in front of your entrance. One snap of his hips and he was entering you with ease.

Your eyes rolled back to your head momentarily and you let your head fall onto your pillows baring your neck to Chris. He leans down, peppering your neck with wet kisses. He keeps entering inside of you more until he can’t anymore, making you whimper lowly.

“Ah, fuck, you feel perfect around me, babygirl.” He whispers in your ear.

“You can move now, Chris, honey.” He pulled almost all the way out so only the tip remained and then he slid back in all the way. A silent moan slid past your lips as he built a slow sensual pace, making sure not to rush things. He wanted you to feel all of this, to savor this moment.

He dropped his head in between your neck, placing kisses against your hot skin as he kept thrusting inside of you. Wanting to touch him, you reach up and rest your hands against his beautiful defined abs that are sweating.

“I’m gonna speed up a little, okay baby?” He says. Chris is always caring in the bedroom, he always has been. Which is honestly one of the main reasons why you fell in love with him. Most guys will just do things their way without pleasuring you or making sure you’re okay with it first but no that wasn’t your lovely Chris.

You reply by moaning quietly in his ear. At this he begins to pound your tight pussy. A loud moan escapes your lips because you simply couldn’t control it. Quickly, he puts his lips to yours, swallowing your moans. Deep down in the back of your mind you hope no one else in the house heard anything however you’re more focused on Chris fucking you so thoroughly.

You move your hands to his biceps, gripping while every inch of his thick cock was sliding in and out of you. His pelvic bone is now hitting your pussy, his balls as well hitting your ass. He’s penetrating you so deep; you honestly don’t know what to do. You just keep moaning into his mouth, as he kisses your hard and passionately, tongues shoved down each other’s throat.

“You are so perfect, so beautiful,” He whispered against your lips, still pounding the fuck out of you.

“Oh…..” You moaned clenching your eyes shut.

“So gorgeous, you’re all mine.” He says watching your face contort with pleasure. “Never want you to leave me, baby.” He fills you up to the brim so he’s all the way inside of you.

“Mmm,, I w-won’t.” You reply, arching yourself into him. “I’m g-gonnna-“

“Yes come for me, let it go. Let that pretty little pussy come on my cock.” With his words, and with his cock fucking you the way it is, your walls close around him, tightening with each thrust. He can feel it, he can feel your pussy so he leans down making sure to conceal your moans before you scream out in pleasure and with pain of how good it feels. You can’t hold back anymore so you let go, coming hard and sinfully.

Your eyebrows furrow as your face if full of pure bliss of how good that orgasm felt. His cock twitched inside of you and soon enough you felt his warm liquid spurring inside of you. Oh thank goodness for the pill or else you would’ve been SOL right now. He groaned deeply as he slowed down the pace a little but kept fucking you, wanting to ride out your highs.

“Ride me.” He demands while pulling out of you.

“What-“ You don’t get to finish as he grabs you, flipping your body so you’re on top now.

“Ride me, I want to watch you ride my cock, beautiful.” He says. He leans up and kisses your lips for a little before laying down. 

Taking your hand, you reached down and collected some of your own juices, spreading them around his cock. Once you’re sure your ready you position his cock at your little hole and then slowly sink down on him, biting your lip to keep you from moaning too loud. 

“Oh, babe. You’re so big.” You said in between breathy moans. 

“Yeah, good girl. Take all of my cock. That’s right.” You started moving up and down keeping the rhythm simple and kind of slow. You just got the unholy shit fucked out of you so you’re body was pretty sore nevertheless you kept hopping up and down on his cock. 

His hands came up to your hips holding them very tightly, surly bruises were to appear the next day but none of that mattered right now. You put your hands on his shoulders to give you some leverage and you glanced behind you; watching your pussy come on and off of Steve’s cock. 

He wanted to so badly just rip the shirt off of you that was hiding the rest of your gorgeous body. He just pulled your shirt down so then your boobs spilled out of it and he could see them bouncing up and down. He grabbed them and tweaked your nipples. Knowing what he wanted, you stopped for a minute and pulled off your shirt so you were now naked and exposed. He could see your face in the moonlight that seeped in through the window above the window. 

You smirked and winked down at him before going continuing to ride him. His hands moved to your ass cheeks, gripping each in one hand loving the feeling of your skin beneath us. 

“Fuck.” You whispered and threw your head back, closing your eyes while you felt another orgasm quick and approaching. His eyes moved to your bouncing tits and your beautiful pleasured face. The way your mouth hung open, trying not to let any noises fall out.

He groaned furrowing his eyebrows, feeling the sweet clench of your pussy walls once again around his cock. You leaned down and kissed him to make sure both of your moans wouldn’t be heard when you came. 

His hips began to jerk forward, meeting your thrusts halfway. The obscene sound of skin slapping against each others and the sounds of your lips filled the room. Both of you were a hot sweaty mess, hair sticking to your foreheads. 

“I love you.” Chris whispered against your lips. “So fucking much.” 

“I love you too, honey.” You reply back in a high pitched moan. Your mouth is in an oh as you keep going, faster and faster, not stopping trying to find your release. A few thrusts later your orgasm is ripping through you and you become a moaning mess. 

You stop riding him, needing to take a break but he keeps going. His hips buck into your ass making it jiggle with each thrust. You lean your head into the crook of his neck, whimpering softly until he’s finished and filling you with his seed.

The next morning you woke up to the warm heat of your house. You loved that. Stretching a little bit, you turn to notice that you are now alone in your bed. Where is Chris? You sit up abruptly and look around to see he’s not even in your room. 

You throw the covers off of your body to get up to walk out of the room but then remember you’re naked. 

Shit. 

Quickly you grab a pair of shorts, panties, and a comfy sweater then skip out of your room. You smell, eggs, bacon and pancakes. Oh yes, the usual Thanksgiving breakfast. Your favorite. Smiling you walk into the dining room to see your dad, mom, your brother and Chris all sitting at the table, eating breakfast. 

“Goodmorning sweetie.” Your dad said. You smiled an leaned down, giving him a kiss on his cheek. You did the same to your mom and you ruffled up your brother’s hair. 

“Hey,” He said with a chuckle. 

You grinned at him and then took a seat next to Chris. 

“Mornin’ babe.” He says, giving you a sexy smirk. 

“Morning.” You peck his lips. The four of them go back to the conversation they were discussing before. Something about politics. You just get up and go make yourself a plate in the kitchen. 

While you’re making a plate, you feel the presence of someone next to you. You look and see you’re brother. He’s staring at you, a shit eating grin planted on his face. 

“What?” You ask. 

“If you guys are gonna fuck like wild animals again, can you at least be more quiet? I didn’t get any sleep until like..... twelve.” 

You gasped and almost dropped your plate. 

He laughed at your reaction. You were in the middle of embarrassed and a little amused. And then a realization hit you. 

“Oh my gosh! Do you think mom and dad heard?” You said lowly and glanced back into the direction of the dining room. 

“Oh nah, they had their TV on, trust me they would’ve said something, you know Mom and Dad.” 

“You’re right.” 

“Yeah just uh........yeah be more quiet next time. Good chat.” He patted your back then walked back into the dining room. 

Oh well, you’ll just have to be more quiet tonight for you had something else fun to do. Again. You smirked to yourself while putting a smiley face made of whip cream on your pancake.

[video-killed-the-radio-host]

My Love, Come and Save Me ch 3

I know I promised this like a week ago and I’m hella late but seeing as time isn’t real, I’m actually on time!

@lady-dmaris

———————————————————————

Cecil wakes with a dull ache in the back of his head. He has been held captive for a week at this point, or so he thinks. Kevin and Charles do feed him but Cecil doesn’t eat much after the first night due to it being drugged. He was sure nothing had happened while he was out so he assumed it was a sedative but he didn’t want to take any chances.

He sits up and looks around the unchanging blue room. He was starting to hate the color.

Swinging his legs over the side, Cecil stands and slowly makes his way over to the vanity. Looking in the mirror, he almost didn’t recognize the face staring back at him. Despite only being there for a week, his face was nearly colorless and he had deep bags under his dull eyes. He pushes the roughly cut hair from his face and sighs before resting his forehead on the cool glass of the mirror.

“Good. You’re awake.” A smooth voice said behind him, making Cecil squeeze his eyes shut before turning around. He forces a smile onto his face.

“Good morning,” Cecil says softly. He leans on the dresser when a wave of nausea hits him. “H-“ he clears his throat. “How are you?”

Instead of answering, Charles approaches him. Cecil stumbles back a little, back hitting the window sill. “We are going to take a trip today. You, me and Kevin.”

“We are?” Cecil asks before wincing. He didn’t think he was allowed to speak.

“We are. But first we have to go see a friend of mine.”

“Where are we going?” Cecil asks softly, praying Charles couldn’t hear the shaking in his voice.

“Out. Don’t worry. You’ll like it. I promise.” Charles touches Cecil’s cheek before pulling away. “I have to go make a call so Kevin will be along to help you get ready soon. If you behave he won’t need the needle.”

Cecil swallows thickly. “O-okay.”

Charles gives a smile and leans closer. Cecil freezes, holding his breath. Charles was close enough that Cecil could see the flecks of hazel in the other man’s icy blue eyes. Cecil’s heart beat so loud in his ears he was sure Charles could hear it. Charles puts his index finger on Cecil’s bottom lip and pulls it down just a little. Cecil gives a soft whimper and starts to tremble like a wet dog.

“You are so…..so beautiful.” He whispers before standing up straight. “I will see you soon.” He smiles before turning on his heel. “Don’t disappoint me.”

Cecil stares after him. Me? Disappointing you? He thinks bitterly. You’re the one holding me captive!

——-.——-

Kevin wakes up with a smile and rolls back up in the comforter. He hummed and closes his eyes again. He feels the bed dip behind him and a warm hand settle on the back of his neck.

“Kevin. It’s time to get up.” Charles says, leaning over and kisses Kevin’s temple.

“Mm. Fuck off.” Kevin responds and turns over.

“Kev~ I need you up please.” Charles tried again.

“I don’t wanna.”

“Please? I need you to get Cecil ready to go see Roxxi and Ellie.”

“Suck my dick.” Kevin groans, once again burrowing under the blankets.

“Will that get you up?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“I make no promises.” Kevin mumbles as Charles turns him flat on his back.

“Hmm.” Charles pulls back the blanket back and gently pushes Kevin’s knees apart.

Kevin lets his legs fall open as he gazed down at Charles lazily. He runs his fingers through the older man’s hair.

Charles wastes no time pushing up the oversized shirt Kevin wears to bed and settles between them. The skinny man was nude under the shirt so Charles wasted no time bracing himself against the bed and wrapping his mouth around Kevin’s soft cock. Just a few touches got the other man’s body to react. Charles smirks around him and sets to work.

It doesn’t take long for Charles to bring Kevin over the edge. It was always easiest in the morning because Kevin was always horny in the morning.

Pulling away, Charles wipes his face on the back of his hand. “Kevin!” He sighs as Kevin turns over and closes his eyes again.

“I’m up I’m up.” Kevin grumbles, sitting up. “Hi.” He smiles softly.

“Good morning beautiful.” Charles smiles back and leans forward, kissing him softly. “We’re taking Cecil out today so I need you to pick something nice out for him to wear. We will need to take him to see the girls first.”

Kevin purses his lips but smiles. “I know exactly what to do.”

“I know you do Sunshine. You’re amazing like that.”

“Of course I am.” Kevin beams. “Now I have work to do.” Swinging his legs over the bed, Kevin stands. “Move.”

Charles puts his hands up and steps aside. “I gotta call Roxxi anyway.”

“You do that.” He stops long enough to press a kiss to Charles’s temple. “See you soon.”

——-.——-

Cecil looks up as the door opens again and he pulls his knees up to his chest to make himself smaller. Pressing himself against the headboard, he looks at the door. Kevin enters the room wearing a yellow polo and dark jeans.

“Good morning Cecil!” Kevin sing songed.

Cecil offers a shaky smile. “Hello.”

Kevin’s expression softens and he sits down on the edge of the bed after softly closing the door. “I need to tell you something.”

“O-Okay….”

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just like you.”

“You are nothing like me.” Cecil says coldly.

“Please...just listen to me.” Kevin looks down. “I’m just like you. One of his victims.”

Cecil is quiet for a moment, his gut saying not to trust but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to trust that he wasn’t alone here.

“How long?” He whispers.

“Six years.”

“Why did you...if you’re like me, why did you drug me?” Cecil forced himself to look up at the dark eyed man.

“I noticed that if you play along to his sick games no one gets hurt. It was for your own safety.”

“I don’t want to be here.” Cecil whispers.

“Well it’s not so bad once you get used to it. Just do what he tells you and he won’t hurt you.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about.”

“So maybe we can figure out how to get out. Together.”

Cecil nods a little before licking his lips. “Do you know where he’s taking me today?”

“Oh! We’re just going out is all. Public so he won’t hurt you. But we need to get you dressed.”

“can I wear my own clothes?”

Kevin giggles. “No silly. These are your clothes now.” He opens the wardrobe. “Now let’s see…..how about this?”

Kevin turns around with a black button up in hand.

“Fits my mood.” Cecil mumbles.

Kevin giggles again. “Put it on. And these. He isn’t a patient man so hurry.” Kevin pulls open the door and looks into the hall before stepping out and leaving Cecil alone again. He stares down at the shirt for a moment before Kevin’s warning rang in his ears. He pulls off the shirt he was wearing and puts the black one on before quickly changing his pants. He looks around and finds his shoes, the one thing he was allowed to keep. He puts them on before opening the door, surprised to find it unlocked. Outside the door, Charles was leaning against the wall, Kevin draped over his chest, the two locked in a deep kiss.

Feeling his face heat up, Cecil takes a step back. Despite trying to go unseen, Charles sees him and breaks the kiss with a grin. “You look good. Ready to go?”

Cecil gives a silent nod. “Y-yes. S-sir.”

“Sir?” Charles taps his chin. “I like that.”

“He learns fast.” Kevin looks over Charles’s shoulder at Cecil with a smile.

“Good. Good. Now let’s go. They’re waiting for us.”

——-.——-

Cecil follows quietly, afraid to set Charles off. Once outside, Cecil squints in the harsh sunlight. He’s headed into a car and then the door is shut. The windows on the car were heavily tinted so no matter if Cecil tried, no one would see him. He was trapped. So he sits quietly, listening to the soft words from the couple in the front seat but not really registering any of it.

The car ride is about ten minutes long and the Cecil is being pulled out again. “Inside.”

Cecil obeys, following Kevin up the stairs.

“Just do what they say okay?” Kevin’s tells him softly. “It’s the safest thing to do.”

Cecil bites his bottom lip and nods. “Okay.”

Kevin nods and opens the door, ushering Cecil inside. Once inside, Cecil looks around. The lavish house was decorated comfortably and Cecil found himself admiring it,

A pair of heels against tiles catches his attention. He turns and sees a woman with long dark red hair dressed in tight black pants and a low cut blouse.

“Roxxi!” Kevin beams.

“Hello Kevin. Charles. Who's your friend? Doesn’t seem like you guys’ type.” The woman-Roxxi- remarks as she gives Cecil a once over.

“We’re working on breaking him in.” Charles says, wrapping his arms around kevin and pressing his cupped hand against the skinny man’s crotch. Kevin giggles and squirms in the hold. Roxxi smirks a little and looks back at Cecil, who was being held onto by Charles’s free hand. He could feel a bruise forming already.

“I see. And what brings you to our humble abode?”

“Cecil here needs a Makeover.”

“Ah. I know just the thing.” She turns her head and yells. “Babe! You’re needed!”

Cecil winces at the yelling but forces himself to stay quiet. He’s herded off to another room and pushed into a chair. His wrists were bound, which he expected. Cecil turns his wrists, feeling the plastic rub at his skin.

Another set of footsteps makes Cecil look up again. Another woman had entered the room. She was dressed in a dark green sundress and a black leather jacket. She also had red hair but it was carrot colored compared to Roxxi’s maroon hair.

“Cammie tased a guy. Got to rough again.” The new woman says, ignoring the three men in the room.

“That girl needs a raise.” Roxxi says with a smirk.

“I know. She’s my best girl.”

Charles clears his throat and makes the woman turn. “Ellie, this is Cecil.”

So this is Ellie and Roxxi. What are they going to do to me? Cecil thinks as he forced his eyes up to look at her.

“He sure is pretty. I could make a lot of money off of him.” Ellie purrs, pulling a pen from her pocket and tilting up Cecil’s chin. Cecil swallowed thickly.

“Not for you El. We just need your magic touch is all.” Charles speaks up. “Dye his hair and maybe trim it up?”

Ellie hums. “Alright. But he would make a good whore. If you ever get bored of him send him my way.”

Ellie’s words make Cecil cross his legs self consciously and flush lightly.

“What color are you thinking then?” Ellie asks, pulling a tub from seemingly nowhere. “He’s a blonde so any color should take.”

“Mmm…..what do you think Kevin?”

“A dark brown would go nice with his skin tone.” Kevin answers.

“Dark brown it is then.”

“I don’t have a permanent. All I have is the twenty four hour stuff.”

“That’ll be fine.” Cecil could hear Charles smirking. “I only need it for today.”

“Alrighty. What are we shooting for?”

“I’m thinking a high and tight? Something neat.”

“You got it.”

Cecil jumps when her voice was suddenly next to his ear. “Sit still pretty boy or I’ll cut your ear off.”

Cecil freezes as he feels cool metal against his ear. Slowly more hair is cut away from his head as the others make small talk around him. He doesn’t register any of the words as he tries to force down a panic attack. He doesn’t understand why they haven’t killed him. Why Ellie doesn’t just jab the scissors into his neck and be done with it.

The sound of a shaking can brings Cecil from his thoughts. A moment later, a cold mist hit Cecil’s head. He just closes his eyes and wishes for t to be over.

“Alright. All done.” Ellie pats Cecil’s shoulder.

“Perfect. Thank you Ellie.” Charles says, his voice making Cecil jump again as it was so much closer than last time. “Now we have to get going.”

The binds on Cecil’s wrists were cut away and then he was grabbed and hauled to his feet. “Come on.”

Once again, Cecil was pushed into the car and they were driving again. The drive was much shorter this time and soon they were parked outside of an upscale restaurant. Before Cecil could move, Charles was out and yanking open his door. Cecil flinches back. A pair of sunglasses were then shoved onto his face.

“Okay here’s the rules beautiful. You are to wear these the whole time. You will not speak a word or make any signals. I have fifteen of my men inside and if you say a word I will blow his balls off and then personally kill every student you have ever taught.”

Cecil pales. His students were completely innocent in this. He nods weakly.

“Good.” Charles gives a charming smile. “Let’s go.”

Cecil follows them with shaking legs and watches as Charles speaks to the host. He glances around, wondering who all were Charles’s men. Looking back at Kevin, Cecil notices the other man seems excited. Maybe this won’t be so bad.

Cecil follows them through the restaurant, weaving through tables before coming to a stop. As soon as he sees who’s at the table, Cecil’s blood ran cold.

Carlos.

[1000roughdrafts]

When Reality Starts to Falter - Part 3

Summary: You get a call from your ex, Jared, to work a few scene on the set of Supernatural as a hunter who takes a liking to Dean. The producers love the chemistry between you and Jensen, so they decide to give you a full time gig. Feelings for Jared come back in a flush, but over time as your character falls for Dean, you find yourself falling for Jensen. 

Pairings: Ex!Jared X actress!Reader, Dean Winchester X hunter!reader (and single!Jensen X actress!reader in the future)

Warnings: supernatural type violence, angst, injured!reader,

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Posting a little late, sorry friends. Enjoy!! 

Part Two Master List

Little beads of sweat drop down the sides of your face as you watch the screen of your phone light up. The vibrating persists and the shaking sends you over the edge. Determination awakens inside of you. A venomous reprisal flows through your heated veins. 

With its last plea for an answer, the call from your ex-fiance goes to voicemail. You strangle the phone in your hand. The vein in your wrist swells. You lob the the device across the dashboard with a hulking clash against the windshield and an unintended grunt comes out of you. 

Your face dives into your hands. The tears you’d withheld plummet down your cheeks and puddle up in your palms. Any attempt at a noiseless mourning is a failed one, but now that it’s started there’s no backing out until this twisting in your stomach ceases. 

Slouching in your seat, you stay that way for the most of your lunch. Using a napkin to wipe the tears away, your stomach sloshes in desperation for a meal. Forgoing food, your hands shake and body quivers as you reach for the handle. Reminding yourself that you are stronger than this, you stride with head held high back to the crew. 

“Oh, dear,” your makeup artist, Polly, shouts when she spots you. “Come here, hun. Let’s fix that pretty face of yours,” she jogs over to you and sets a hand on your shoulder, kindly guiding you over to her station. 

Without any questions, she begins to work away in fixing the patchy foundation and smeared mascara. You don’t know why or what causes you to blurt out, “sorry about the makeup.” She removes her hand from your face as not to mess up her work while you speak, “I took too big of a bite,” you force out a laugh. “I choked on pizza and a stranger had to come pat on my back and give me water to dislodge it.” 

She hums something of a reply, and nods slightly. You curse yourself for not thinking of something better, and sit in embarrassing silence as she makes her finishing touches. Giving her a smile of appreciation, you jog back over to the crew. 

“There she is!” Jensen gleams, holding out open arms. “The star of the show!” 

You can’t help but to blush a his comment, even though you know it’s a humble remark from him. He and Jared are the real stars of the show, not someone who’s only been on set a few days. Still, you give him a phony smile and thank him, being sure to add that it wouldn’t have made it this far without him. 

“So you watch it?” he says, tugging the corners of his lips down to keep the smile from rising any taller. 

“Of course I watch the show, Jensen,” you laugh. “It’s the best thing on television since Code Red,” you wink. You’d somehow begun a battle of one-upping with your favorite co-star after his compliment. 

He tilts his head back just slightly, his face holding semblance to a smirk of satisfaction, “yeah, but did you ever watch Dawson’s Creek? That was the peak of my career,” he winks with slightly parted lips. 

Your eyes fall shut as you belt out an undeniably, genuine laugh. Your mouth and eyes open wide at the realization that this is the first time you’d felt that rumble of excitement in your stomach since you met Jared. 

That’s when the second realization hits. Jared. You peer behind Jensen’s right side. Already on set, Jared scampers off to occupy himself with something other than glaring at you from a distance. You don’t know how long you’d be able to put up with that, though Jensen and his generosity make it easier. 

“I’m sorry, Jensen, but that show was an abomination to the eyes and ears of every poor soul to have seen it,” you laugh again. His eyes crinkle somewhat into a smile as his head drops against his chest, “I gotta say though,” you add. He looks up at you, through his lashes and holds a smile, “CJ definitely carried my interest though all the chaos.” 

He smiles before twisting around to face the director as he calls for everyone on set. You follow behind him and stand off to the side, next to a stiff and frowning Jared. The prop crew set the scene for Dean, Bobby and Jody’s rescue mission. 

“You okay?” You ask for the seventh time. The only difference is that this one was the only one to make it off your lips. 

He acts as if he hadn’t heard you. He doesn’t look at you, and keeps his hands folded in front of him in an at attention, military-akin way. Sighing the response away, you close your eyes in anticipation for the directors-

“Action!” 

Your eyes unlatch. You drop to a crouch with Sam, looking around you and over your shoulders as you make your way around a scantily lit alleyway. The narrow street borders a large, abandoned building. 

Sam picks up his pace, pushing himself in front of you to peer around the corner of the building. You lean against the chilly wall. You hold on tightly to the knife drenched in lamb’s blood and take a few short breaths. Sam moves his head in a slight shake, signalling for you to take the lead. 

You progress along the building’s edge in a crouch, looking in all directions before stopping at a metal door. Shaking the handle, you give Sam a side eyeing glance to find another entrance. As he looks along the walls of the building, you wonder if you hadn’t tried hard enough and rattle the door again. 

Sam grips onto your arm and whirls you around to face him, a finger held to his lips as his face scrunches into a tight frown. “Be quiet,” he harshly criticizes. 

Oh, no. That wasn’t in the script. That was improvised. You scan the lot behind him, letting your eyes coast away from the anger cluttering on his face and onto the crew - trying to avoid the shining lights and camera. Why are we still rolling? you think. 

You decide to go with it. Perhaps the director saw something in this that you haven’t yet. 

He flips around, sending a whiff of his motel conditioner and cologne into your chest. You press on, following tightly at his heels as he runs to scale the side of a building. Propping himself up on the fire escape, he reaches his hand down for you to grab onto. You’re supposed to take it - to let him pull you up, but you only stare at the lines on his palm. Sam’s eyes clench, he must think you can’t reach him as he tightens his face and pushes his arm down a little further. 

Unlike the script requires, you swat it away and grip onto the concrete bricks. He holds his breath as you pull yourself up and force him out of your way to step onto the small platform. With arms stretched above him, he opens a window that’s at chest height. He sets his palms on the sill of the window and bounces to land his chest on the opening. As he shuffles in, you push his legs for support. After he plops onto the floor, he spins around to put his torso out of the window and reaches out for your hand. Again, despite the script, you swat it away. 

The two of you stealthily step along the creaking floor in search of your missing friends. Rounding a corner, you hear a feeble groan to the tune of Dean’s voice. Your body propels in the direction of his pleas. You fold your lips under your teeth to keep yourself from calling out for him, reminding yourself that it would do more harm than good to be anything other than quiet. 

When Sam catches up to you, you are standing with your mouth agape and arms dangling at your sides. Dean, Jody and Bobby are all strung up by their wrists with chains, heads hanging against their chests. Tears stroll down your cheeks from red rimmed eyes. 

Shit, that’s not in the script either. 

“You have your knife?” you say in a breathless whisper to Sam without removing your eyes from Dean. Through peripheral you see him lift it just barely and nod a confirmation. “Stay close,” you mutter before sprinting down the stairs, heading directly for Dean.

Your hands fly onto his face, pulling it up to square it to yours. He lets out another grunt. You tenderly release your grip on his face, running your thumbs against his cheeks as you do. Your eyes slight in excessive rage, and your body is shaking as a response. You gently pucker your lips to his cheek and kiss it softly, “we’re gonna get you out of here, Dean.” 

“You’re here for the day dreams, right?” A halcyon murmur rings out from behind you. Flipping around, you grip onto the knife and move your eyes around in search for Sam. 

“Let my friends go,” you growl, head tilting down as the anger floods out of you. 

The colorful masterpiece of a tattooed beauty flips her midnight hair off the side as she chuckles. Gradually approaching from behind her are two men that take a stance on either side of her. You take a step back, accidentally bumping into Dean. You roll with it, making it look like an act of protection. You raise your head to look level at them, cocking it to the side sightly as you regain your grip on the knife. 

The woman and two men take murderously slow steps at you. Your rage turns to courage. Baring your teeth, you belt out an exploding war-cry and run towards them, blade in front of you. The woman, out of instinct, holds out her hands in front of her. You slash through them in one swift motion and then jab the knife into her chest. 

As she drops to the ground, you job back a few steps, watching the men rapidly approaching. “Sammy! Where are you?” 

Right on cue, Sam sprints onto the scene and takes one of the men by surprise, tackling him to the ground. Taking the opportunity, you lunge at the other. He grips onto your wrist before you can stab him and with a macabre smirk twists your arm back. You cry out in agony as the man laughs and you hear the commotion of Sam rolling around and throwing punches at the other. 

In an attempt to escape the pain in your arm, you fall onto the prickly concrete. The Djinn drops on top of you and uses one hand to hold down your squirming arms, wrapping the other around your face. 

Slowly losing grip on existence, your eyeballs roll back and you weakly tap on the actors arm as if to tap out of a UFC fight. He doesn’t seem to notice. Your chest moves up and down hastily as if to accommodate for the increasing rate of your heartbeat. You try to get out a bargain for a ‘cut-scene’, to recuperate and try again, but only gasps come out of your mouth. 

“That’s right, sweetheart. Fall into your happy pla-” he grunts the ending of the word as his hand is ripped from your face. You don’t - can’t - move a muscle, attempting to get yourself in a state of tranquil to be able to finish the scene. 

Almost there. Almost there. Almost. There. You repeat the two words in your mind as you listen to the grunting and clinking of Sam’s knife, fighting against the last Djinn. With one final, elongated roar you know the battle is over. Wiggling your toes and fingers, you hope to ride this attack out without being noticed in order to get on your feet in time to help Sam. 

Your body springs forward, with one intense and final gasp for air as your eyes open. With a sigh of relief, you see the puddle of blood is draped over the Djinn instead of Sam. He sits on the floor, legs curled up to him and his head bows in his lap while he catches his breath. 

“Well done, Moose,” a trenchant voice echoes throughout the room. “Thanks for calling me, Bell.” With a snap of his fingers, the three enslaved hunters collapse from the chains and moan as they hit the harsh ground. 

“Cut!” The director calls out. You finally feel like you can breathe again, like you’re grounded. You peel yourself from the floor with the help of Jensen. His hands holding onto your forearms, you look around the set to notice that Jared has already left.The bloodied hands you’d chopped off are just styrofoam molds covered in a ketchup mixture. The chains holding Dena’s arms above his head just plastic props. There’s an entire wall missing from the warehouse you just fought for your life in. 

Er, Bell fought for her life in. 

You shake your head, looking up at Jensen and his mouth moves in front of you - a ringing coming from his lips. Shaking your head more fiercly, you let it hang for a moment. Jensen throws his hand onto your back and the other under your arm, catching you as you collapse into him. That’s when you begin to hear the murmuring of other cast members and Jensen’s call of distress, “medic! I need a medic over here!” 

He turns his face down to you, brushing the hair from your face and shifting you up in his arms. “Hey, Y/N. Take a deep breath for me.” Placing the back of his hand onto your sweaty forehead, he winces. “Jesus, you’re burning up!” 

Four different people rush to your side and rip you from Jensen’s warm touch. The last thing you remember is being carried into a room and set onto a bed. 

Part Four 

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[samesongxox]

Savior: Chapter 5 (There’s Something about Phyrra)

Summary: (Hellboy 2019) AKA Turning a New Leaf AKA Good Samaritans Need Love Too. The B.P.R.D is tasked to infiltrate a black market creature trafficking ring led by a powerful warlock. Hellboy rescues Phyrra who is found being held hostage, a slave for her magic. He must protect her as she is hunted by her master and his gang of monsters. (AU where Broom isn’t dead/Abe wasn’t found)

It will be rated M, it will include violence, swearing, smuttiness, all the good things in life.

Disclaimer: Hellboy belongs to Dark Horse Comics/Mike Mignola, I don’t own anything except the AU and my OC’s.

Phyrra sat cross-legged on the bed, enraptured as Binx animatedly retold her side of the story: how Phyrra had sent her away during her dealings with Elias, then the shock of the pixie being accosted by some woman on her way back to Phyrra’s room. Returning to a wild, bewildered Phyrra acting as if that Hellboy was the only one she wanted around her. Binx used her usual scathing descriptions of how she saw things.

“You were scandalous with him Phyrra! Not at all yourself! I had not seen you like that in many moons! I tried to get him away, but you would not allow it!”

Binx had spent decades protecting Phyrra from the men around: that nasty warlock being the bain of her existence. At least the beast’s attention towards Phyrra had not held any contempt or lascivious intentions, Binx couldn’t say the same for this demon. 

Sure he had strode in and took Phyrra away from the wicked man that had held her friend, and by extension herself, for so many years. But the pixie had the unusual talent of reading things unsaid clearly, and she sensed great darkness in this Hellboy. Perhaps Binx was biased in her opinion, she owed everything to Phyrra. It didn’t stop the light that ever emanated from the elven girl.  

No creature on earth would ever be worthy of Phyrra, in Binx’s eyes at least.    

“But...He saved me Binx, saved us.”

“Yes, yes what a white knight he is.” Phyrra, her mind unwillingly placing a picture of Hellboy in her mind, she felt her face burn.

She was struck with the remembrance that in the last moments before her blankness, she had been in a towel, readying for a bath. 

She gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. She was in a robe now. Someone had changed her. Maybe it had been this woman? At Phyrra’s urgent question, Binx could only glance away, further prove of what Phyrra feared. “I will concede he was at least a gentleman about it all. Also at least stopped you from further harming that human.”

“Binx,” Phyrra desperate urging in her voice frightening the pixie. “I’m all fuzzy. I cannot remember much. It’s all coming in flashes.”  

 “What of our time before…” Binx hesitated, the reminder of her friend’s loss of memories stunning her. “What do you remember of your family?”

“Nothing, it’s all blank.” Binx, normally the fire-cracker, looked more fearful than Phyrra ever seen. Binx choked on her reply. She just couldn’t do it. Selfish as it was, Binx had no desire to open the old wounds of Phyrra’s past.

“It is not my place Phyrra. You must recall it yourself.” Phyrra looked at her friend with great confusion, Binx had the answers, but was refusing to give them. It was preposterous. 

“Excuse me? Don’t be ridiculous Binx! Tell me!” Binx’s expression was hearty with gloom. Phyrra was already in a fragile state, Binx did not want to be the one to break her. Maybe in a week’s time, if all goes well. Binx rationalized to herself. On the outside, she smiled with great sadness towards Phyrra.  

“I...I simply cannot.” 

“You are really annoying me dilthen nad (little one).” Phyrra snapped, scooping the miniscule creature up into her hands. Holding her with the intent of not letting go until Binx gave her the justification for this unnecessary behaviour.   

Binx decided the conversation was over, dictated by a burst of fire in Phyrra’s palms. 

Letting her friend go, she scurried away on translucent wings. Figure it out herself? Phyrra was baffled. At the back of her mind, she could hear the Professor talking about the texts regarding all matters of subjects. Well, if she was to be responsible for returning her memories, that seemed to be the best place to start.

“Fine, have it your way Binx. We are taking a trip to that library,” Binx returned back to her companion, hesitant but firm in her Phyrra’s strength to see through this. Goddess knew the elf had spent many lonely nights of hard survival before Binx found her.

Using her internal clock, Phyrra had to have been talking to Binx for an hour or so. She was brought here last night, Hellboy had slept the whole night by her side. Now it was mid-morning.

Phyrra felt herself unthinkingly pondering over him. Perhaps she should go talk to him first? She needed to know what had happened, and what he had seen from her. He disconcerted her in a way Phyrra has never experienced, she hoped his answers to her questions would aleve that. 

“Hey, brought you the clothes. I also ran into someone in the hallway.” Phyrra was halted in her determination as Sorah walked in with a hulking human male, dressed in a fine black suit. Phyrra only had to shift her gaze to the awful purple mottling along the male’s neck to know who this was. The man she had mauled. Had held in her grasp with intent to hurt, maybe even kill. 

“Jason Hurse, ma’am.” He was smiling at her with quiet reserve, much too kind of a greeting for what she deserved.

“Call me Phyrra.” She felt her eyes sting, she was a monster. An absolute brute. He should he furious with her, too disgusted to even be here.

“It’s a pleasure, Phyrra.” Jason approached her bedside with ease, completely unafraid of her despite what had occured between them. 

“Words can’t describe my guilt. I feel…. Ghastly.”

“Don’t. Hey, you were strapped onto this gurney in this new environment, you did what you had to do. Trust me this kind of danger comes with this job, and I’ve been through worse. I fully understand your reaction to that situation.”

Phyrra was astonished. This human was unbelievable in his humbleness. There was something Phyrra could obviously do to make up for it. 

“You are a gracious man. Please, allow me to heal you.”

“Well I’m not gonna argue. It would save me trying to explain this to the missus,” Hurse said good-naturedly. Jason gave his consent as Phyrra requesting to touch the bruise. Both him and Sorah watched in awe as the tattoos on the elf’s body began to glow, the patterns floating off her skin onto Jason’s. After a few quiet moments, Phyrra removed her hand to Hurse’s usual pale toned neck, the injury was gone.

“Phyrra...That was amazing!” The elf shrugged under Sorah’s watch. She was used to being praised for her magic, although it had always been Elias. It left a bad taste in her mouth.

“Woah.” Hurse stood up and shook his arms. “Weird. I feel like I have so much energy.” Taking stock of how his body felt rejuvenated, he glanced at his watch. Cursing at the time, he explained that he was supposed to be meeting with S.W.A.T Team Two right now to discuss the Yeti den findings.   

“Thank you Phyrra. I gotta get back to work, but it was great to meet you again, seriously. See you around!” The man bolted out of the room, already late. Sorah and Phyrra regarded each other laughing softly. 

“Sorah, would it be possible for me to go to the library?”

“Of course! Your just gonna go to the elevator and hit the button that says 5C. In fact, I’ll walk you over there. It gets a little crazy around her at this time.”

There was much action happening around her when Sorah loaded Phyrra into the contraption: nurses dressed wounds and speaking with patients or each other. Phyrra thanked whoever was listening that no one seemed to pay her much mind, and as always having Binx by her side gave her strength. 

Either they had been warned about her presence, or were still wary of her because of what she did to Jason… She would have to seek forgiveness from them all.

The elevator jerked to a stop. Phyrra looked up at the glowing red ‘4B’. Not her floor. The door slid open to reveal a young woman who looked in appearance around the same age, she was dressed very casually with a floppy hat and baggy pants. Her placid expression lit up at the surprising sight of Phyrra.

“Hey! Great to see you up and about. Back to normal yeah?” Phyrra was snapped out of her wallowing thoughts by the bright voice. The woman walked into the elevator and went to press the same button Sorah had not three minutes ago. Phyrra remained suspiciously silent, left so by this girl’s affectionate greeting.  

“Right. Sorry. Forgot you woke up not remembering everyone,” The female extended her hand, “Alice, nice to meet ya’.”

“This is the girl that stopped me back at Elias’s. She reeks of death but is perfectly healthy. Quite a strange thing.” Shushing Binx’s harsh words, even though the taller girl could not understand the words, Phyrra accepted her hand.  

“You are the one that found Binx?”

“Your little glowly friend? Yup that was me. Hey again.” 

“She wasn’t rough with me, and is quite charming.” Binx couldn’t stop the humour entering her voice. If they were to be in contact with these mortal’s for now, she would try and find her amusement where she can. 

“I must go around to you all and apologize for my actions, they are reprehensible.” 

“Aw, not to worry! All is right as rain, as my mum used to say.” Phyrra found herself smiling at the easygoing, playful way Alice held herself.

“Okay Phyrra. I gave you your chastization, but please try and not beat yourself up too hard old girl.” The elf nodded at the pixie. She understood, at this moment she was going through a great change. Phyrra was in a place she didn’t have to watch what she said and could make her own decisions. The idea was daunting.  

“Is she mad at us for bringing you here or something?”

“Of course not, Binx wants what is best for me,” Smiling at Alice, this cordial girl, Phyrra felt the burdens surrounding her ease. 

“I believe this is what is best for me at the moment. Would you mind showing me around the library?”

Alice agreed wholeheartedly, even going as far as linking her arm with Phyrra in a show of camaraderie.

The door’s dinged open.

Phyrra could do this. Right now she was with good company, people she could trust. She felt she had a purpose, one that didn’t involve being someone’s pet. And once she recovered fully, she could decide if this ‘being a team member’ would work out.

_

A few hours later…..

Hellboy tossed the beer can into the growing pile detected.

He was a stranger to her now. Hellboy wished, no matter how he told himself not to, for the Phyrra he found to come back. She would wake up and once again only want him around.

Absently strumming his guitar, the memory of their time together haunted him: her first waking up, pinning him with her gaze, the choice she made to stay in his arms, mending his wounds, trusting him so explicitly. Now all he could think about was the disdain and fear she emitted as he tried to touch her. He reached for her fucking hand. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

The last couple hours he spent asking the same mundane question to creature after creature: Where are you from? How were you abducted by Elias? How can we help you find your way home? At least it had made it so his mind was occupied. Now in the comfort of his room, he had nothing else but to wallow in his misery.  

He knew she was one of the good ones. He was glad to find out her reactions had been some sort of animalistic sense of survival she had turned to. 

Hellboy, during one of his breaks, had snuck into the security rooms, finding the feed of Phyrra’s room. He found the logs in which his father spoke with her. He knew he was being a coward, a worm. His finger hovered over the play button. Father had told him nothing but perfunctory information when he stopped by after talking with Phyrra: She was another prisoner of Elias’s, and seemed to be suffering from amnesia. 

Hellboy wanted to hear it from her. 

In the end, fate had answered the dilemma for him. Ben arrived on the scene, having been told where the cambion had slipped away; Hellboy whipped around with guilt like a teenage boy caught playing with himself. Ben was holding two sandwiches from the mess hall, wearing a smug grin.

“There you are, come on Hellboy.” The Major threw the wrapped one at Hellboy, forcing him to catch it. “I even asked them to cut the crust off for you.” 

There was also the matter of Hurse. 

On their way back, Hellboy heard his name being called. Turning around, he was met with the running form of Hurse, the man wasn’t winded when he reached them.

“Hey Hellboy, I just wanted to tell you. I met Phyrra, again.” Happily, he displayed his neck sans bruise. Hellboy knew he wasn’t doing it with any malice, just wanted to be a man showing good will. Hellboy knew Hurse to be happily married for 15 years. It didn’t stop the envy at the idea of Phyrra just healing anyone willy-nilly.

He knew first hand the penetrating, all consuming feeling when she used her ability. 

“No hard feelings, she’s a real sweet kid.” 

“Shit.” Hellboy realized he was playing the chords to ‘More Than Words’ and stopped immediately. He had to get a hold of himself for Christ sakes.  

So he agreed with the fact she didn’t attack intentionally, obviously he knew he couldn’t be with enamoured with an evil being, Nimue crushed that idea. He did want her back to that way incidentally, if only to not have to be so foolish around her. He was getting very frustrated with the conflicted feelings surrounding her. He wasn’t a dealing with feelings kinda guy, he needed to go out, do some target practice, get into some trouble. 

Maybe start a fight.

Hellboy stood up too fast, letting out a slurred ‘Woah!’ before balancing himself sloppily on his dresser. That was the first time he had risen in 30 minutes, those beers were hitting him. 

Clumsy as shit, Hellboy stumbled about his room, until the telltale sound of light knocking reached him. Who the fuck was bothering him right now? It was the middle of the fucking night.

Hellboy lumbered over to the door, retching it open. A curse ready on his tongue. 

It was Phyrra. Looking at him expectantly. Sorah had found her clothes, Hellboy thought belated. She was dressed in a black t shirt depicting the B.P.R.D logo, and pajama pants. It was quite a different sight from the robes that bundled her, or the slight towel she was draped in when he first saw her..

He was way too drunk for this.

What he wanted to say was, “Hey Phyrra. What brings you out here at this late hour?” Instead, what he got out was:

“Oh.”

 Phyrra was taken aback by the stilted greeting, but only for a moment. It was quite a late hour, she cleared her throat and pressed on.

“Hello again, I could not stop thinking. At least not until I came to make amends.” Phyrra felt herself strangely nervous around him, sweat collected at the back of her neck but she felt chilled anyways. 

After spending the last while in the library with Alice, finding comfort in the woman’s help and presence, Phyrra had found nothing to jog her memory. Phyrra could see the way Alice was struggling to keep her eyes open, she made the decision to call it a night, thanking the woman for her company and asking where Hellboy was. She was met with a wide grin from Alice with prompt directions to his room, before she flounced away in a girlish manner betraying her age. 

Phyrra liked the B.P.R.D. It wasn’t hard to find these lodgings much more satisfactory than under Elias’s care, but it wasn’t just that. There was life in the B.P.R.D, agents and various government workers passing her in the hallway with kind looks, sometimes a ‘Hello,” Phyrra wasn’t used to most interactions, especially with mortals. They were quite an interesting kind of people. Her new friend’s Sorah and Alice molding her opinion. 

She thought about all this on the way to Hellboy’s domain, now that she was here. Her tongue was undoubtedly tied in knots, she wanted an answer from him, but forcing herself to look up to continue eye contact, she was thoroughly intimidated.   

“Thank you is not sufficient to extend my gratitude. I am forever indebted to you for-”

“Stop!” Both of them flinched at his sudden loud interruption.   

“Sorry, I mean, you don’t need to do all this.” Hellboy scratched the back of his neck, bumbling the whole thing rather expertly. “I was just doing my job.” 

“Okay, but still. I was told of the way I…. Behaved towards everyone here, and how you were there to stop me. That still requires my recognition.”

Fuck, she was so beautiful. There was no doubt about it, he couldn’t feel shame for thinking something so evident. She was like one of those paintings he saw the time werewolves got loose in the Met. 

During the midst of the fight, Hellboy had stopped, strangely drawn to a specific one hung on the wall. Hellboy wasn’t some fine art connoisseur, that kind of frou-frou shit was more dad’s style, but he had to admit this was kinda cool. It was a young girl, tangled in what looked to him to be bandages or rope or something. The background had been dark colours made to look like some sort of forest. She was fighting against the binds, hands curled into fists and muscles flexed in tension, her face displaying the strain it was to break free. 

She was a cutie, by 17th century standards, but it was her eyes that caught him most of all. They were a curious sort of calm, as if she knew without doubt that eventually she would succeed in her struggle. He could of stood there analyzing that painting the whole night, if he hadn’t of been tackled away from it by some smelly dog. 

That girl in the painting reminded him of Phyrra. Many layers made her up. Fierce and wild at times, vulnerable and distant at others. This elf girl was an enigma. One that was currently looking at him with confusion.      

He hadn’t said anything in response to her.

He had just been staring down at her like a creep.

“Well, good night then...” Phyrra scurried away from the entrance to his bedroom; well that did not go the way she wanted it to. She would first apologize, he would accept and she would get the chance to ask him what happened while they were alone. 

Now away in her thoughts, she couldn’t just blame her own blundering. What had greeted her at his door had halted her, something was off about Hellboy. What was once full of nervous energy, was slothish and bumbling. He could barely get his words out.

No matter, she had cleared her conscience and now could leave him alone, he obviously didn’t care nor desire her apology. 

Whatever happened between them could be completely forgotten about. Reliving what had just transpired on repeat as she escaped, Phyrra knew that was an utter lie.  

Hellboy watched stunned as she walked away.  

“Night…..Hey wait!” Hellboy took a step through the threshold, only to step on the tail-end of his jacket, spilling himself to the floor in quite a hilarious spectacular if anyone were around to witness it. 

“Shit.”

[allhailkingrooker51]

Take Me Out to the Ball Game

A little backstory about this fic - Rooker was in a Budweiser commercial way back in 1984.  You can watch it here.  Rookerstash (who unfortunately isn’t on Tumblr anymore) suggested amongst the Rooker Hookers that we needed a smutty scenario about the “Cute Beer Can Hat Guy” (as we affectionately called him)...here’s what I came up with.  

And once again thank you to @merlesgirl47 , @celticheart72 and Rookerstash for reading this and giving me the courage to post it.  

Warnings - NSFW, Smut

It was a picture-perfect day in Chi-town – the sun hanging high in the clear blue sky, a balmy temperature of 72 degrees, a pleasant whisper of a breeze on the air.  It was a beautiful day for baseball.  Or at least it would have been if the blind date your bestie had set you up with had actually shown.  Your friend had been nagging you for weeks to let her set you up with her new co-worker.   “He’s sooooo sweet,” she said.  “He’s suuuuch a nice guy.  He’s perfect for you!”  You finally agreed, a little out of curiosity to meet this so-called wonderful guy and a little to finally get her to shut up.

After waiting for him outside the left field gate of Wrigley Field well into the 1st inning, you soon got the hint.  

Well, this is just great, you thought.  You know what?  I give up. You had made up your mind.  There weren't any “nice” guys left in the world.  

You thought about heading home and drowning away yet another misfortune in your unlucky love life with a pint of ice cream and a good book.  But you had already bought a ticket to the game.  It had been ages since you had been to a Cubs game.  Plus, it was too pretty of a day to spend moping about inside your cramped apartment.  So, you picked your chin up and waltzed into that stadium head held high.  You weren’t going to let that guy ruin your day.

You found your seat on the third base side and sat content for a while, enjoying all the sights and sounds that come with a ball game.  Around the top of the 3rd inning, you were dying of thirst.  You got up and went off in search of a concession stand for an ice-cold soda.  

You pushed your way through the mob of fans and got in line at the first concession stand you came to.  The line must have been 30 people deep, all crammed together like sardines in a can.  Finally, after waiting for what felt like a month of Sundays you made it to the front of the line and ordered your soda.  As you walked away, someone in quite a hurry bumped into you, spilling beer all over your arm and shirt.

A little peeved, you were just about to give that someone a stern talking to about watching where they were going.  However, that all vanished when you looked up and were met with the most gorgeous set of blue eyes you had ever seen, albeit hidden under the bill of a silly novelty baseball cap with a beer can squashed onto the top.

The eyes belonged to a man around 30 years old you figured, holding a hot dog and a half-filled cup of beer, the other half now soaking into your shirt.  He was a little taller than you, a handsome face with a square jaw and chiseled cheekbones, and brown curly hair hidden under that hat.  He wore a patterned, green short sleeved button up shirt, the first few buttons undone giving a peek of his nicely toned chest, and his khaki shorts hugged him in all the right places.

Your heart literally skipped a beat, something that had never happened before when it came to men.  It was instant chemistry, and from the way he was looking at you, you could tell he felt it, too.

He snapped out of it and immediately began apologizing profusely.  

“I'm soooo sorry,” he exclaimed.   You quickly took notice that his voice was sexy, too.  

He moved his beer to his other hand, trying to juggle both the cup and his hot dog at once, and grabbed for a wad of napkins he had stuck in his back pocket.  He handed them to you still apologizing.

“It’s ok.  Don’t worry about it,” you assured him.  “It's partly my fault, anyway.  I should have been paying more attention.”  You took the napkins and wiped your arm dry and then started to dab at the wet spot on your shirt.  

“I just..just didn’t want to miss any of the game.  I guess I wasn’t watchin' where I was going.  I really am sorry.  Let me make it up to you.  Um...”  He looked around frantically trying to figure out what on earth he could do to make this better.  He pointed to a little vendor cart selling Cubs t-shirts.  “I know, let me buy you a new shirt!  So you can get out of that wet one.”  

“No, it’s fine, I promise.  It really is ok.”  

“C’mon, there’s gotta be something I can do.” he pleaded.

You had never seen a man as beautiful as the one who currently stood before you.  And the fact that he wore that dorky hat made him even more attractive.  Something deep inside told you this was fate.  Out of all the people in the stadium, he was the one that ran into you.  Surely, it wasn’t just a coincidence.  

You scanned your eyes across his hands – no wedding ring.  But, surely a guy like him was taken.  You were about to find out at least.  You had an idea how he could repay you, but it would muster all the courage you had.  

“What about you letting me watch the rest of the game with you?” you asked timidly, praying he wasn’t at the game with his girlfriend.  You were never this forward, but you didn’t want to lose him just yet.

He obviously never expected that answer and fumbled over his words.  “Um, y-yeah..I..uh..yeah..absolutely, c’mon.  It's just me and my buddy, and you’re more than welcome to join us.”  The look of shock on his face faded into a crooked grin as he turned to lead the way.  Your heart melted a little more.

You followed him through the crowd, not minding when you got a little separated on the way.  It allowed quite the view of his cute butt in those tight shorts.

When you got to his seat, he introduced his friend who also happened to be a co-worker.  

“This is Frank.  Frank, this is..um..sorry, I didn’t get your name.”  

You introduced yourself to Frank just as your new love interest sat down, quickly drawing your eyes back to him.  The way his shorts scooted up his thighs a little when he sat down, the fabric tightening over his crotch revealing a nice bulge, you couldn’t turn away.  It was suddenly really hot in Wrigley Field.

You made small talk at first, both of you a little nervous but becoming more comfortable as time went by.  Soon, you lost all concentration on the game, focusing your full attention on the blue-eyed, curly-haired dream that had accidentally stumbled into your life.  

You learned his name was Allen.  He was a city bus driver by day, and by night, an up-and-coming actor, the hot new item on the Chicago theater scene.  He had been a Cubs fan since moving to Chicago as a teenager, and he made sure to catch at least one game a week during the season, usually with Frank.

Over the next couple of hours, you got to know one another as much as two people could in that brief span of time, and before long, you both seemed like old friends.  And Allen actually listened to you when you spoke and was genuinely interested in what you had to say, something that until now the previous men in your life never did.  

When Allen talked, you couldn’t take your eyes off of him.  You were discovering he was just as beautiful on the inside as out. He was respectful and polite, the perfect mix of sweet and a little shy, humble, charming and funny.  And that laugh of his?  You hoped you never had to go another day without hearing it.  

There was no denying you were falling for him.

Now, there was also no denying the sexual tension between the two of you.  Since the moment you first laid eyes on him, you had been trying to brush aside the ever-growing feeling of wanting to know what he looked like under his clothes, to sleep with this man you had just met and barely knew.  That feeling was getting harder and harder to ignore.

At some point during the conversation, Allen's bare leg accidentally brushed against yours.  You swore you felt a spark, an electric surge tingling through your body from where your skin had touched.  He looked down mid-sentence, losing his train of thought for a second, before turning to you and smiling.  He felt it, too.

By the 7th inning stretch, the stands began to empty as spectators slowly started trickling out of the stadium.  The Cubs were down by 12 runs, and it wasn’t looking good for a late-in-the-game rally.  

Frank slapped Allen on the shoulder and stood up to leave.

“Alright, Al, I’m headin’ out.  Game’s a bust, and I got an early route in the morning.”  Frank extended his hand towards you.  “It was really nice meeting you.  And, hey, don’t let this clown give ya’ too much trouble, hm?”  

You smiled and shook Frank’s hand.   “Don’t worry, I won’t.”  You looked at Allen and swore you saw a little redness appear on his cheeks.  

Thankfully, Allen didn’t give any impression that he was ready to leave.  You certainly weren’t.

More and more people left, but, unfortunately not the group of drunk bozos in the seats in front of you.  At first, it had been fairly easy to ignore them.  But they had been getting gradually louder and more obnoxious with every beer they downed – throwing Crackerjacks, cursing, heckling the visiting team's left fielder. They were a real bunch of charmers.

At the bottom of the 8th, the Cubs third baseman was up to bat.  He swung on the first pitch, and a loud crack echoed across the field, the unmistakable sound of the ball coming in contact with the sweet spot of the barrel.  You knew that ball was going over the fence somewhere.  It was a futile effort, the visiting team having scored three more runs in the top half, but it was a homer nonetheless. And you saw the ball heading straight for your section.

The ball was moving like steel to a magnet straight for you.  You and Allen stood up in anticipation, Allen's baseball glove at the ready.  You put your old softball skills to work and reached up, the ball landing flawlessly right into your hands.

It was just your luck that the three drunk bozos had also jumped up to try to snag the ball.  The guy directly in front of you snatched the ball from your hands as soon as you caught it.  His pals hooted and hollered, congratulating him, clapping him on the back like he was the one that had made the catch.

Allen immediately saw red.  “Hey, man! That’s hers!”  

The drunk guy turned around and glared at Allen.  “Yeah?  Whatchu gonna do aboudit?” he slurred.  “How's about you and your ‘lil bitch just sit the fuck down ‘fore I make ya'.”  He pushed Allen hard in the chest, nearly knocking him backward against the seats.  

Allen’s Irish blood boiled over.  The tendons in his neck tightened and he gritted his teeth.  If this fucker wanted a fight, Allen was happy to oblige.  He drew back his fist, seconds away from clocking the drunk bastard across the face when you grabbed his arm.  You shook your head no.  “It’s not worth it.  C’mon.”  You took his hand and started to lead him away, the trio of drunk guys still hurling insults at your backs.

Allen protested,  “But..but..that ball’s yours!  You caught it fair and square.  And I’m not gonna let that little shit talk about you that way.”  He was pissed no doubt.  But you had plans to take his mind off being angry.  All of your feelings that had been building for Allen the last couple of hours were already at a peak and this incident just sent them exploding over the edge.  The way he had just stood up for you, outnumbered and risking getting his ass kicked for a woman he had just met, it was making your panties wet just thinking about it.  You wanted him, needed him right then.

You led him out of the stands desperately trying to find the nearest restroom or unlocked utility closet, anywhere that would give the two of you some sort of privacy.

The first available option was a men's bathroom.  You barged through the door, Allen in tow.  Luckily, attendance had dropped a great deal in the ballpark so the bathroom wasn’t crowded.  There was one man, however, washing his hands at the sink.  You gave him a glare and he hurried to dry his hands and swiftly shuffled out the door.

Your heart was pounding.  You don’t do this.  This isn’t you at all.  But ecstasy had officially taken over.  There was just something about Allen that you couldn’t wait another second to feel his lips on your skin, his hands on your body, caressing places on you begging to be touched.  

You yanked him into a stall and slammed the door, locking it behind you.  Allen’s mouth hung open.  He couldn’t believe this was happening, but from the hardening bulge in his shorts, you could tell he was game.

“Are we really doing this?” he rasped.  You pulled off your shirt and draped it over the stall wall.  Allen’s eyes grew large.  “I’ll take that as a yes,” he gulped.

“That was so fucking hot what you just did.”  You grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him to you, kissing him hard on the mouth and nearly knocking off his stupid beer can hat.  

Allen tangled his fingers in your hair, moaning against your kiss as you palmed his bulge and rubbed him over the fabric of his shorts.  You quickly broke away from his lips to unbutton his shirt, pushing it back over his broad shoulders.  He shuddered as you traced your fingers across his chest down to the lean muscles of his belly.  You kept going, undoing the button and zipper of his shorts and tugging them down, his dick springing forward, already dripping from the tip.  

He was just as beautiful underneath his clothes.

Everything was happening in a heated frenzy.  As much as you wanted this to last, to take your time exploring every inch of Allen’s body, time was of the essence.  It was only a matter of time before someone walked in on your little rendezvous.  

Allen helped you shimmy out of your shorts along with the lacy red panties you had worn, now soaked with your arousal.  He cursed under his breath and pushed his knee between your thighs, using his leg to sweep yours apart.  He reached his hand down to your apex, circling your clit with his thumb before gliding one, then two fingers inside the silken curls of your core.  You purred beneath his touch, grinding yourself against his expert fingers.  

“Allen, I want you so fucking bad,” you begged.

He pulled his hand away and grabbed beneath your thighs with both arms, lifting you up and pressing you against the stall door.  You wrapped your legs around him as he pushed inside, molding your body with his.

Allen grunted and buried his face against your neck, sucking and biting on the sensitive skin there as he began to thrust, slow at first but then quickening as he found his rhythm.  You tried to be quiet, but you couldn’t hold back the sounds of pleasure as he plunged his hips into you over and over again, withdrawing and sliding home faster and harder each time.  It wouldn’t take long for either one of you to get to the grand slam.  

Suddenly, you heard the unmistakable sound of door hinges creaking as someone entered the restroom whistling the melody to “Take Me Out to the Ball Game".  The tune came to an abrupt end when the man undoubtedly saw a pair of legs with shorts around the ankles and various sex noises coming from the stall.  Once again the door hinges squeaked, this time giving away the man's hasty retreat.

Allen looked at you and you both burst into laughter.  It was now no secret what was happening in the men’s bathroom by Section 502.

Despite the interruption, neither one of you dared to end things early, and you soon felt the tension down below pooling in your lower belly.  You cried out and threw your head back against the door, digging your nails in Allen’s shoulders as the long, slow ride of your climax coursed through your body, your inner walls tightening and fluttering around Allen’s dick.

Seconds after, you could feel Allen throbbing inside you.  “Fuck, I'm gonna come,” he whispered against your ear.

He pulled out and set you down, your legs trembling and nearly giving out beneath you.  You circled your fingers around his dick, jerking it in your hand.  Allen gripped the top of the stall door, breathing heavy.  He closed his eyes and with a moan from deep in his chest, he reached his own peak, marking you across your stomach with warm strands of cum.

Barely giving either of you a moment to recover, Allen kissed you, a slow, passionate kiss that nearly made your knees buckle again.  He helped you clean up and handed you your clothes.  You glanced at Allen as you redressed.  He had a devilish grin on his face as he pulled his shorts up and buttoned them.  “Hey, uh, the Cubbies are playing again tomorrow.  Early afternoon game.  Can we maybe do this again?”

His cheeks blushed immediately, realizing how bad that might have sounded.  He started talking 90 to nothing trying to recover.  “I-I mean not this exactly…I mean don’t get me wrong, this was amazing…but I just want you know I’m not usually this kind of guy, but I'm not gonna lie, the way you caught that ball earlier kinda turned me on, and you’re just so beautiful and all, and I like you a lot…like a lot..like I’m fallin' for you more and more every second and I'd really like to keep getting to know ya'…I-I mean if it's ok with you, of course… fuck, I can’t think straight around you…y-you know what?  I'm just gonna stop talking now.”  He let out a much-needed deep breath.

You giggled and put your index finger to his lips.  He was cute when he was angry but even more so when he was flustered.

“Yes, Allen, I'll watch the game with you tomorrow.”

He chewed on his bottom lip, smiling.  “Yeah?”

“Yeah.  Now let’s get outta here before we’re banned for public indecency.”  

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

On the way out of the stadium, you passed by the gift shop.

Allen stopped and grabbed your arm, halting you in place.  “Hey, wait for me just a sec.  I'll be right back.” He disappeared inside.

A few minutes later he came out of the store obviously holding something behind his back.  He bit back a smile and handed you what he had been hiding – a souvenir baseball with the Cubs logo on it.

“I mean it's not a home run ball, but…,” his voice shied away.

Now you were blushing.  “Thank you, Allen.”  You gave him a peck on the cheek, holding the baseball up to your heart.  This one meant way more than that stupid home run ball ever would.    

Allen walked you all the way to your car, making sure you got there safely.  

He opened the driver's side door for you, propping his arms atop the door frame.  “So, I'll still see ya' tomorrow?  I promise I won’t spill my beer on ya' this time.”  He paused.  “Well, honestly, I can't really promise that.  I can be kind of clumsy sometimes.”  

He smiled that lopsided grin again.  Man, he was making it so easy to fall harder for him.  

Taking his face in your palm, you gently kissed him.  “Meet me at the third base gate at noon.”

You got in the car and drove away leaving Allen stunned in the parking lot.  

You left Wrigley Field having officially changed your mind.

There was at least one nice guy left in the world and turns out, it was a beautiful day for baseball.

[toomanyfeelings5]

the definitive ranking of pulp! the classics covers and summaries, from worst to best

(Note: Pride and Prejudice was not included in this list, as there were only poster and greeting card options for the work, and not an actual book or summary. Had a book and summary been provided, it would have ranked lowest for unoriginality. It’s literally just 1995 Colin Firth staring moodily at you. The caption is “Lock Up Your Daughters...Darcy’s in Town!” which is just unfortunate, frankly, and honestly laughable.) 

16. Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte 

You take a novel that’s positively overflowing with drama and give it THIS cover? THIS summary? Absolutely uninspired. 

Here’s looking at you Cathy...

Childhood sweethearts turned star-crossed lovers, fuelled by bitter jealousy and dark revenge. She’s pretty and posh, he’s a moody brooding bastard. Heartbreak, alcoholism and plenty of illegitimate kids – it’s a perfect Northern drama.

Where is the feeling? The screaming violins playing as we read? The moors? The time skips? A hint of the positively bonkers plot that only a Bronte could compose?

15. The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde 

 Oh, the heterosexuality of it all. On an Oscar Wilde novel, no less. 

Hey girl...I’d sell my soul for you!” 

Dorian Gray might be as pretty as a picture, but he's paid a devilishly high price for it. He'll stay drop-dead gorgeous, but there's something nasty festering in the attic...

Pretty as a picture and still lusting after ladies? Please. Pulp! Classics, you can do better. 

14. The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald 

Again, we must speak the ancient chant: Oh, the heterosexuality of it all. 

When it came to loving...He knew which Daisy to pick! 

Sorry old sport, but Gatsby has a bigger house than you, prettier friends than you and a Rolls Royce to cart them all round in. To a backdrop of popping champagne corks and orchestral jazz, our hero bids to buyout his old adversary, perennial jock, Tom Buchanan and reclaim Daisy, his favourite bit of High Society totty.

Nick Carraway gets not one mention, which is odd given that he’s the narrator, the protagonist, and Gatsby’s most ardent love interest. Also strange is the cover’s insistence that Jordan Baker, known lesbian, would swoon over Gatsby. Doubly strange is how tiny the women are in comparison to Gatsby’s massive frame. What is, again, bamboozling, is how the slogan on the cover seems to imply that Gatsby knows how to pick a woman. He doesn’t know how to choose anyone, let alone love them. All Gatsby truly knows is the desperate pursuit of a fruitless dream. 

13. Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare 

Romeo looks like he could be Juliet’s father. Juliet looks like an Upper East Side Widow, not at all like the tween girl she really is.

Too wild to live...too young to die!

Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou…. Oh wait, he’s hanging around in the garden again. Will young Romeo and his Juliet ever be able to express their raging hormones? Or will their feuding families make this romance blossom into a poisoned flower? Either way, both their houses are totally plagued!

“Wherefore” means “why,” not “where,” though I do have to award points to the summary for placing the blame squarely on the feud and not on these doomed young lovers. Though again, young isn’t the operative word I’d use to describe this version of Romeo and Juliet. 

12. Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe 

This is what one would expect upon seeing a pulp cover of a classic novel. Not much originality or flair is present, but at least some sense of the story is conveyed. 

Solitude was driving him nuts!

Cannibals! Captives! Coconuts!

One man’s love of the sea leaves him stranded on a desert island with nothing but a few goats, a bible and a parrot for company.

Will he ever escape? Will his new pal Friday learn to efficiently press a goatskin jerkin? Or will solitude send him totally barmy?

WILL Friday learn to efficiently press a goatskin jerkin? One must read to find out, I suppose...

11. Tess of the D'urbervilles 

Marilyn Monroe?????

She’s...no angel.

The original Wessex girl!

Tess is just a humble milkmaid when the local landowner has his wicked way. Her new beau, the smarmy Angel Clare, is none too pleased when he finds out she’s already been deflowered. What is a girl to do? Bloody revenge of course, and an ending to touch the hardest of hearts.

At least the summary blames the terrible men in Tess’s life rather than Tess herself, unlike the tagline on the cover. And while Marilyn Monroe seductively lounging about with a drink doesn’t recall the faintest essence of Hardy’s novel, one would like to imagine Tess relaxing in whatever clothes she pleased, a straw dangling out of her drink, a smile on her face as she answers to no one and spends her quiet evening in solitude. 

10. Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K. Jerome

An innocuous cover; the men’s faces hint at the comedic nature of this novel, and yet...something nags the brain upon looking at this.

To say nothing of the dog...

Incompetence, embarrassment and general disaster - no it’s not PMQs, it’s a trip down the Thames! Three hapless fellows and a world weary dog decide they need a holiday from their exhausting hypochondria. Hilarious mayhem ensues.

To say nothing of the dog indeed: Why does the dog on the cover have a human face?

9. The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka 

All one can say upon viewing this cover is: Jeff Goldblum, is that you?

Change really BUGGED him! 

Poor old Gregor. One day he's depressed about his dreary travelling salesman gig, the next, he's roaching around the apartment and disgusting his family. All that's left is creeping the walls and eating garbage. How's his sis ever going to find a sugar daddy with her grotty bro in tow?

Gregor isn’t grotty, he’s our six-legged hero in this tragic tale. 

And yet in the end, the question that haunts us all echoes in our minds in an unceasing echo: is that Jeff Goldblum? 

8.  Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland 

Alice as a hippie is eye-catching, but not particularly creative. 

This cupcake was off her head!

What HAS happened to little Alice? Taking 'shrooms, hanging out with hookah smoking ne'er-do-wells and being dragged to court. That's gonna be one hell of a hangover!

As much as I’m intrigued by Alice wearing heart-shaped sunglasses and a peace sign necklace, the summary and the cover consist of one joke and one joke only. 

7. The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde 

I just like how Dr. Jekyll in this cover looks equally as fucked up as Mr. Hyde. 

No more Mr. Nice Guy... There’s a sinister man about London town with something of the night about him. Mr Hyde is mad, bad and has a penchant for bumping off MPs and other kindly innocents. Will his friend Dr Jekyll be able to stop him? Or is there something more to their relationship than meets the eye…? Only the intrepid Utterson can get to the bottom of this mystery, but what will he find in Dr Jekyll’s lab?

Points to this summary for including Mr. Utterson, and for insinuating that Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde may be clandestine lovers. 

6. A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens 

Ladies, gentlemen, and otherwise, don’t we love it when a greedy rich man gets bludgeoned by a mace into being more generous and kindly towards others?

This cat was a drag....’til a midnight wake-up call...

Christmas?! What a load of Humbug. Mistletoe and Wine just don't do it for Scrooge; he's a workaholic miser with an attitude problem. If he doesn't change his ways, he'll end up with no friends and Tiny Tim won't last the year. Let's hope some spooky night-time visitors can put the jingle back in his bells!

Ring-a-ling-a-ling, Mr. Scrooge. The mace is raised and the bells are ringing.

5.  Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad 

The tag-line made me, as the youths say, laugh out loud. 

Whoops! Apocalypse....

The horror! The horror!

Kurtz might be the apple of every brutish imperialist’s eye, but his God complex is getting wildly out of hand in the depths of the jungle. What on earth will Marlow find when he finally gets downriver? Devil worship? Savages? Heads on sticks? Or just another nutty white man with his knickers in a twist?

Surprisingly anti-racist summary made this jump to the higher echelons of this esteemed list, though of course that doesn’t excuse this novel’s abhorrent and embarrassing fake-deep racism. It also must be noted that the tag-line should have been “Whoops! White supremacy!” and the text of the novel should have entirely consisted of Chinua Achebe’s essay on the work. 

4. The Hounds of Baskerville by Arthur Conan Doyle

The cover alone is a winner. A rabid chihuahua out for blood? Inspired. 

Murder...Mystery...Walkies!

A desolate moor, a diabolical dog in need of a muzzle and some inbred locals; Sherlock Holmes is really up against it. With the help of his trusty sidekick Dr. Watson, Holmes pieces together a mystery that has captured the imagination of readers across the decades. All whilst practising a serious coffee and cocaine habit.

The tag-line is fun and catchy, but sadly this summary must be admonished for insisting that Dr. Watson is merely a “trusty sidekick” to Sherlock Holmes. Heterosexuality strikes again, reducing the impact of the striking cover design. 

3. Dubliners by James Joyce 

Finally! Some style, some panache, some flair to accompany these short stories about being sad and horny in Ireland. 

Stuck in the Liffey with you...

Booze, Sex and Hot Floury Potatoes… Those Dubliners are at it again!

Liars, thieves, whores and priests… James Joyce sure knew how to throw a party! This relentlessly downbeat collection explores the very worst aspects of human nature, and doesn’t leave out the juicy bits. It might not be in the best possible taste, but who doesn’t want to get down and dirty in Dublin?

The summary and cover work in tandem to wholeheartedly convince me that Dubliners is an action-packed, slick collection of stories detailing the wild escapades of a motley cast of ragamuffins, and I gotta hand it to the folks over at Pulp! Classics for injecting some bonafide vintage cool into Joyce’s work.

2. Othello by William Shakespeare 

I have so many thoughts on this. Mr. T. as Othello is fascinating, as is the tagline, “Some kind of Bard...aaaaasss.” Is this a commentary on blaxploitation media? One can’t help but recall Mr. T.’s reasoning behind his mohawk, his gold chains, to honor his ancestors and assert his living, unshakable humanity in a racist society. Is this is a genuine effort on the part of Pulp! Classics to imply that a blaxploitation-influenced adaptation of Othello could reveal deeper truths to the play that we have had yet to glimpse? 

Some kind of Bard... aaaasss

He’s a bardass brother with the love of a fine woman. That is until some cloven hoofed honky starts talking crazy about variously hued sheep tupping the hell outta each other! You gotta pity the fool who gets shafted by the green eyed monster. Let’s hope Othello can work out who to trust before it’s too late…

The fast-paced alliterative language of the summary harkens to Shakespeare’s own wit-fueled dialogue and penchant for creative language. The summary also calls Iago a devil, which is apt, and implicitly criticizes his racism, hinting at the play’s greater tragedies to come. The cover and summary also work in tandem to emphasize Othello’s jealousy and destruction: the “green-eyed monster” is mentioned, and the cover itself is a putrid green. An excellent example of what a vintage cover and summary can achieve. 

1. Frankenstein by Mary Shelly 

You all knew this was coming. 

This kid was born on the wrong side of the lab...

Frankenstein’s monster is on the rampage; terrorising the locals, unleashing murderous hell… and reading novels in his spare time. Can his petrified creator stop this reign of horror before his girlfriend gets the chop?

A James Dean-inspired creature, thereby making them a queer icon? Masterful. The creature being “born on the wrong side of the lab?” A stroke of genius; that they’re called a kid puts the poignancy of the monster’s plight into even greater relief, while simultaneously emphasizing their tragic charm. The clear distinction between Frankenstein and the creature? Reader, I exhaled in a cathartic release of tension. The loving detail that the creature reads novels in their spare time, like any other leather-jacket wearing, motorcycle-riding ruffian with a heart of gold? Beautiful. 

Truly, the obvious queer energy of this cover and summary highlights an overlooked dimension of Shelly’s great work while also paying homage to what draws us to this Modern Prometheus time after time. Do we care about the petrified creator in this summary? Not at all. He’s not on the cover, appearing both rebellious and gentle. We are here for the creature, in their leather jacket, on their motorcycle, novel sticking out of a back pocket on their jeans, ready to whisk us away to a place where even monsters like us can find solace, and be at peace, and commune with each other. We need only take their outstretched hand, and be willing to leave the mundane world for something better, for the chance to no longer be alone.