#no one else calls either one of them those names and its so sweet its such a cute and quick thing like its so easy to miss

[0rph1x]

look at them look at them look at them look at them look at th

[coeurify]

𝐈𝐟 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤

pairing & wc : ellie williams x fem!reader. wc: 6.8k

description: a new girl sets her eyes on you, and ellie has no patience for it. you both pay the price for her attitude.. but oh if walls could fucking talk.

warnings: listen to if walls could talk by 5sos. harsh language, drinking, jealous!ellie. name calling, spit, oral!r receiving, fingering!e receiving. the nickname pup is used, dom/sub dynamics.

The air in Jackson was sweet tonight. You can taste the spring wind on the tip of your tongue as you laugh— the early may breeze filling your lungs with something crisp enough to freshen you. Something that settles on your skin with the same dewiness as the petals of flowers that bloom near the doors lining the main street.

Dirt from the gravel road kicks up into the settling sky as Jesse makes a move with his boot, pulling another chuckle from your lips. Your cheeks are as pink as the evening sky already, caused by the laughter that spills between your friend group. Four noisy twenty-somethings clambering toward the Tipsy Bison, spitting jokes between yourselves.

You find your focus setting on the pink and orange hues in the sky, looking much more painting-like than anything of reality. Your eyes follow each brush stroke with curiosity, the pre-game sips of liquor stolen from a house’s cabinet sitting low in your belly.

Dina appears next to you and pushes her shoulder into yours, bare skin pressed against each other. It was finally warm enough to rid yourself of the scratchy long sleeves tucked in your closet, and you were taking full advantage. A low-cut and thin short sleeve tucked against your body, which gained you whistles when you showed Dina earlier. The slam forces your head to tilt down from its place in the clouds. “There's a new group Maria let in,” your friend says, pulling your interest directly into her brown eyes. Those brown eyes shift to the girl walking beside you, who stares between the two of you with a smile. “You hear about them El? All I know is some of them are around our age.”

Ellie’s shoulders shrug, green eyes flicking from you and then back to where Jesse was now knocking through the door of the Tipsy Bison as he owned it. “Heard Tommy says it's about 6 of them, two around our ages, the others older. Seems like they caught wind of us and fought to get here.”

Dina nods along as Ellie speaks, bumping into you slightly as all three press through the wooden doors of the establishment. Jesse has already made his way to the bar up front, waving all of you over with one short movement that points to the empty stools beside him.

“Maybe we’ll make some new friends?” You suggest. You watch as Dina and Ellie both take seats on either side of Jesse, yourself sliding into the stool next to the auburn-haired girl.

The soft glow of fading lights above your heads paints everyone in a sweet orange tinge, flushed cheeks set on four faces from the quick walk across town. A soft song plays that you can’t quite make out, just a hum against the decoration-covered walls as the group begins chattering again.

“New friends?” Jesse asks, hand already wrapped around a drink he must have ordered the second he sat down.

“You would know what we were talking about if you didn’t run off in front of us,” Ellie muttered, nodding her head toward the familiar face behind the bar as he asked what she wanted.

“You know how Jesse gets, El. No mind on that one,” Dina smiles, hand coming up to mess his hair from its place. “There's a new group in town, some our age,” she explains to the man, who nods and makes an ooo noise.

“We don’t need more friends. Plus Jesse’s already frustrating enough to deal with,” Ellie cut into the conversation again, lips fighting back a grin.

“Why are you so on my ass tonight, Williams?” Jesse asked, a hand reaching to his chest in faux hurt.

“You just get that out of me,” Ellie shrugs.

“C’mon, you just don't wanna share your girlfriend with anyone else,” Dina motions to you, earning a very obvious eye roll from the girl beside you. “You barely let us get time with her.”

“Yea,” you nod, “Ellie’s just obsessed with me, aren’t you?”

“I am not,” Ellie mumbles into the glass that had just been pushed in front of her. Your eyes linger on her a little too long after her comment. They then fall back into their position staring at the bottles behind the bar, choosing between what you want. It doesn’t last long, your usual drink coming to mind.

Jesse and Dina bicker to your side, over something as ridiculous as the color of the sky outside, as usual. You don't pay it much mind, your head falling to rest on Ellie’s shoulder, glancing up at her as she takes a sip of what you assume to be whiskey.

“Order me a drink,” you hum, batting your pretty eyelashes at your girlfriend. She shifts a bit in her seat, looking down at you.

“Can I get a please?” She requests, eyes swiping away from your own as the words come from her lips. You make a face, eyebrows pinching together. “No?”

Ellie treats you to another eye roll, pretty emerald flashes that make you lift your head away from her shoulder, knowing you won. Ellie motions the bartender over, muttering the drink order she knew by heart.

You grin, placing a few loud kisses on her cheek. The act scrunches up her nose and brings the bickering couple’s attention back to you, embarrassing Ellie further. Jesse purses his lips together to make obnoxious smooching noises, rewarding him with a harsh shove from Ellie.

The drink is placed in front of you as Ellie and Jesse delve into another low-stakes argument, which you pay no mind to. You raise the glass for a sip, which is cut short by the door pushing open, gaining your interest.

Two young-looking people walk in, followed by Maria. She says something to the man and woman that you can’t make out. The man seems roughed up, and your mind seems to tug a string between him and the earlier conversation with Dina and Ellie. The girl beside him looks a little less nervous and less fucked up. Her eyes search the bar curiously, feet bouncing.

Maria sends them off with a short pat on the back, likely after some spiel about interacting with the residents. Dina seems to be watching the same show, already having hopped out of her seat to skip to you, grabbing your arm.

“That’s them,” Dina says, ignoring your partners who are still acting like children, now demanding the other can’t drink as much.

You nod, taking another long sip from your glass before slipping from the barstool to follow her. There isn’t even a whisper of apprehension on her features as she walks toward the two, but your feet drag slightly behind.

“Hi! You’re the new ones right?” She greets both, through her eyes fall on the bruised cheek of the man first. “Shit, you already get fucked up?”

Beside her your throat clears, warning Dina to not push too far. She doesn’t seem to get the hint, still reaching out to shake his hand. The man accepts, shrugging gently as his eyes shift around.

“Ran into a group right before we made it here, one of your patrol groups found em’ and us. They shot both of us till we told them what we were here for.”

Dina nods, “Well, guess you got a warm Jackson welcome,” she grins like she’s the funniest person in the world as she says it, quickly introducing both herself and you.

“Will,” the man says in response, grinning. You can see Will relaxing slightly at the seemingly easy welcome he was receiving in the closely-knit town. You didn’t have the heart to tell him Dina was just like that, so you flash a smile back at him before your eyes follow the new voice. It was the girl, her eyes dead set on your face.

“Pretty name,” she comments, her blonde hair flipping behind her shoulder as her head tilts lightly. You glance away, hoping it was directed instead to Dina. Though the gaze that doesn’t break from your face seems to challenge that.

“I’m Jess,” the blonde adds quickly after, saving you from any embarrassment as Dina quickly jumps in.

“Oh! My boyfriend’s name is Jesse, how funny. Come on you have to meet them,” Dina nods her head toward the bar, where you can feel two sets of eyes burning into the side of your face. It seems Jesse and Ellie noticed your disappearance, chins tilted up in confusion as they watched the conversation unfold. For a moment you meet Ellie’s eyes, hoping she hadn’t heard Jess’s ballsy remark. But the way her jaw clicked told you she was already in a mood about the girl next to you either way.

Your shoes press into the wood floor, dreading the attitude you knew was about to come from your girlfriend regarding the two new bodies that followed you back to the seats. Ellie was always unsure of new faces and never bit back remarks that conjured up due to this. A tough face thrown on top of a slightly anxious body, Ellie believed the spitting words were just protection. It was a disastrous mix, one that often ended in arguments.

More familiar faces flood into the bar as the sun sets outside, the open space becoming slightly louder as people settle in. You hope it brings a sense of attitude suppressant to the auburn-haired girl you sit next to. A larger crowd usually shut her down. Some of this hope shrivels into a ball in your throat as Jess picks to sit on the other side of you. If you could tell the new girl she just sat on a fucking match you would have, but Ellie beats you to it.

Her arm stretches out behind you, the inked-on leaves now on display, sleeves bunched to her elbow. Her eyes meet Jess’s, but you know who the gaze is really directed at. Her arm purposefully presses into your back as she introduces herself, looking for a handshake. You can feel the fake confidence melting off of the skin that touches you.

“I’m Ellie, and she is my-” your girlfriend begins, nodding her head toward you.

In a move that stuns you both, Jess stares Ellie right back, cutting her words off. “I’m Jess. And she already introduced herself.”

It almost amuses you, the way Jess doesn’t shy under Ellie’s obvious glare and doesn’t bother picking up her hand to shake Ellie’s. Most people waltzing into a brand new haven wouldn’t exactly be keen on having such an attitude with the residents, but Jess was. The smug look on her face pisses you off just as much, glancing at the mouthy newcomer with furrowed eyebrows. She doesn’t pay any mind to it.

It takes a moment for those pretty green eyes next to you to look a little less eager to fight, leaning forward again and dropping her hand back to her side in defeat.

You let the small act go, eyeing Ellie once in a sign only you two understood. Her lips busy themself on the almost empty glass before her. “Nice to meet you, Jess.”

You can see Dina biting her lip, fighting back that laugh you are sure bubbles in her throat at the all-too-loud interaction next to them. Jesse pretends he didn’t see it, and you nearly thank the stars above when he speaks.

“Hey, let me order you guys drinks,” He offers as Will settles next to his friend.

Both nod, eager to get something other than water in their throats. You find yourself tuning out the conversation that follows, finishing off your drink with a few more gulps. Ellie beside you also falls silent, though that is a little more expected following what just happened. You trail along the various pictures and signs on the walls as you welcome the warmth in your belly brought on by the drinks.

You resort to nods and hums in response for the next while, only paying full attention when Jesse brings up Ellie’s name. “Most of us do patrols, I’m sure one of you will get put with Ellie or Dina on the first few, to show you the way.”

“Ah, you guys been on a lot?” Will questions, leaning in more to see all the different faces

Ellie nods, trying her best to be less bitter to Will, who hadn't done anything to create the redness on her face. “Yea, kinda all we do,” she answers with a slight shrug. A piece of her hair falls to her cheek and you bite back the urge to move forward and brush it away, twirling your finger around the strand like you would in private. Ellie was already embarrassed enough though, so your fingernails make patterns in the wood top of the bar instead.

Dina calls your name next, eyes falling onto you, “She works with the farm though, all the animals and crops.”

“Oh,” Jess budges in, tilting her head toward you. “Maria mentioned that being an option, do you like it?”

“Yea,” you shrug, finger following the rim of your now empty cup. “It’s fine, boring sometimes.”

The slightest bit of attention you had given the blonde had an immediate effect on Ellie next to you, who sighs loud enough for only you to hear. The next moment you feel a hand on your back, fingers dancing over where the shirt you wear meets your pants. They grip around your side like a child looking for attention, squeezing gently to tug your stool impossibly closer. Quickly you swat the hand away, denying eye contact with the girl beside you.

Ellie doesn’t take the defeat, placing the shooed-away hand on your thigh next, burning with what you can only assume is possessiveness. You can hear her gulp another drink down next to you in another plea for your attention. You let this hand stay, finding comfort in the small circles that Ellie’s thumb draws over your jeans, but refuse to meet her eyes. You can feel annoyance chipping away at your chest, its nasty claws digging over the softer wanted feeling that appeared from your girlfriend’s acts.

Jess seems to notice the show, glancing away for a moment to regain a sense of comfort as Ellie finally pulls away. Her elbows make their appearance on the bartop as she leans her chin into her palms. “Hm.. can’t be too boring with people you know around… I’ll have to tell Maria I’m interested.”

There’s a slight tilt to her voice, one you can’t decipher between friendliness and .. more. It sends your head spinning in confusion. She saw Ellie’s hand on you, heard Jesse clear his throat at the words, and still smiled gently at you. Dina interrupted quickly with some bullshit about stables— but it was already too late. The tension drips from the air and right into your empty cup, filling it with a stronger burn than alcohol.

The bluntest edge of Ellie’s nails digs into your pants, drawing a small noise from your mouth as your head snaps her way. Neither of you looks away for a long second, the game ending when her hand finally falls back to her lap.

Soon Ellie’s leaning in, trying you again as she becomes touchy. The usual unnerved energy that pulses in the girl when trying to give you affection in public is gone, lips pressing to your cheek and jaw in a showy way that brings Jess’s eyes on and off of you two. You can feel your cheeks redden at the act, biting back any urge to turn and slap her lips away. You hope ignoring it is enough of a sign, but Ellie only ends when she can see the flush on your face herself.

The next few minutes go too fast for you to make much sense of. Ellie has fallen completely silent, whether from anger or embarrassment, you aren’t sure. Jesse and Dina have started a much more lightweight conversation about Will and Jess’s travels here, which Will happily chats about over his drink.

There's a loud hum to the bar, mixing voices from all angles of the small building swirling in an annoying sort of way that have you tapping the empty cup. “Do you want another drink? I can order you one when I ask for my own,” a voice asks.

It’s not Ellie’s, instead, brown eyes meet your own. It was Jess, a small yet all too confident smile on her face as her fingers brush against yours that rest on the cup. It’s soft enough to be passed as friendly, as were all her words on the outside— but it doesn’t matter. You all knew.

Hell breaks loose the moment Ellie’s eyes see the touch. You can feel the flames licking your cheek as the much more familiar tone of Ellie filters into your ears. “Are you serious?”

“Ellie-“ you warn, ignoring the blonde’s words to find the flushed and freckled face of your girlfriend. Ellie is too far gone in her little ball of anger to listen.

“Are you stupid or really just that fucking ballsy?”

“Excuse me?” Jess blinks innocently, “Was just bein nice?”

The question sends the whole group silent, five sets of eyes falling on Ellie. A shocked sort of laugh bubbles from Jesse’s mouth, who is quickly elbowed by Dina. You take the comment as your cue to go, stumbling off your stool as you grip Ellie’s arm, forcing her off her own as she continues grumbling insults about Jess’s apparent flirting.

“She doesn’t even fucking like blondes by the way, she-” and then your hand is slapping over Ellie’s mouth before she can get loud enough for more patrons to hear, nails digging nastily into the fat of her cheek.

She pushes the handoff, grabbing your arm, “Mine, you got it? She’s mine. I'm the one taking her home to--” Ellie starts again, cut off by a yelp as you slap her arm hard enough to cause the quick death of that sentence.

“I'm gonna take her home,” you explain with an apologetic grin as you step. Then your face dims a little as you look at Jess, shooting her one of your confused glares before twisting away. With your arms wrapping around Ellie, you pull her through the crowd. Dina’s muffled voice saying something along the lines of, “Don't try it again,” is the last thing you hear.

Ellie continues to speak into your hand, mumbling nonsense of repeated, “mine,” “fucking fuck,” and other jealous blabbering as you step out into the now dark street.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

The walk home was eerily quiet, both of you having untangled yourselves from the position you pushed out of the Tipsy Bison in to instead walk alone. You mull over your next choices for the night as lightning bugs play their part in distracting Ellie. You can still feel the anger radiating off of her as she harshly slams the door of her garage home open, flooding you both with the dim lights that hang from her walls.

“You are so fucking lucky I didn’t do something in public,” a voice seethes, walking the opposite body back against the now-shut door.

But it’s not Ellie leading the movements, nor saying the words. She is the one backing against the shut door as your mouth falls open to continue the rant.

“Acting like that in front of everyone? Grabbing at me and talking like you own me?” You scoff, a familiar feeling inking into your skin as Ellie shys under you just slightly. The power trip was already building inside of you, making you feel ten feet taller as you stare at the girl under the golden lighting.

“That .. that fucking girl was flirting with you!” Ellie argues, arms crossing over her chest in a way that made your eyes fall on the deliciously flexed muscles there.

“And so you treat me like a piece of meat to stake your claim over?”

Ellie blinks a few times, shaking her head to try and answer your biting remark, “That isn’t-“

You step even closer, breath fanning against Ellie’s nose and lips as you speak. You like how the small act has Ellie shivering beside you, pretty soft skin gaining a pink tint. “You have no idea how badly I want to parade around what happens behind closed doors Ellie. Because god, do you like to act like you’re the one with any control.”

Ellie doesn’t dare reply as you continue speaking, instead trying to look anywhere but your face. “Palming at my thigh.. kissing me like you’re some needy bitch, declaring mine in front of our whole friend group? And then implying you were gonna take me home and fuck me? All because some girl couldn’t take a hint?”

Ellie, still against the door— shakes her head. You watch as her throat moves in a gulping motion. “She was all over you, you can’t be mad I got upset,” she says after a moment of building confidence, making a move you both knew would end badly by pushing through your body to pace around the small space. One of her hands comes to play with a finger on her opposite palm, comforting herself.

“I’m not mad at you for getting upset, Ellie. I’m mad you act like you have any ownership over me. I’m mad you had the nerve to say that shit knowing perfectly fucking well who does what when the door closes.”

Ellie won’t look at you, unsurprisingly so as she moves to a more bratty-sounding tone. “Oh, Jesus Christ how awful someone may think you bottom, babe. You’ll survive. Maybe you should try it.”

For a moment you say nothing, toeing the incredibly thin line the two of you are walking on. You know Ellie well enough to see through the game she’s beginning to play, searching for reassurance and attention with chipped remarks and arguments. You also know Ellie’s ego was sore from tonight’s events, creating an even brattier version of herself. The last comment is an open invitation to make her regret the words.. regret her touchy attitude tonight.

Of course, you take it. Of course, you bite on the bait Ellie had set before you with sharp teeth, licking your lips.

“And you’ll survive not touching me tonight,” you shrug, kicking off your shoes as you walk to the bed you spend nearly every night in. You plant yourself directly on the edge, following the sound of Ellie’s shoes dragging. There's a slight sweat building on the nape of your neck as you recount the events from earlier, perfectly clear images of your needy girlfriend coming to the forefront of your mind as you continue your half-hearted anger.

“What?” Ellie mutters, finally meeting your eyes.

“You did plenty of fucking touching with the show you put on tonight, think you met your limit,” you answer with a sigh, peeling the jeans from your legs in a slow movement, knowing it will catch the attention of green eyes. There is no ignoring the immediate hitch in her breath that follows. Ellie was easy to get worked up, no matter how much she would deny that if you ever told her so. You already knew tonight was going to be so much fun.

“C’mon that’s not fair,” Ellie mumbles, emphasizing each word in an attempt to stump any building whines.

“I'm tired Ellie,” you answer with a small fake-sounding yawn. “I don't want to argue, come lay down,” you pat the spot next to you on the bed, innocently enough that Ellie actually trudges over and sits next to you.

“I didn’t do anything you wouldn’t have. Imagine a girl flirting with me, how would you react?” Ellie muttered, knowing full well she would not get an answer she liked.

“Not act like a jealous bitch in front of everyone, woulda just left,” you criticize softly, though there isn’t too much bite, you both know you were just as jealous as her. “Would’ve taken you home..” you sigh, fingers finding the buttons of her shirt, “remind you who you belong to..”

Your hands move to her front, unbuttoning the flannel that she wears, pulling a shiver from her after your words. It's a simple act you two had fallen into the routine of ages ago. Undressing each other before bed, grabbing pajamas, pressing kisses to sore spots after a day of work, massaging muscles. A small sign of affection that was often done over comforting silence. Today’s silence however was a little more charged.

Of course, you had already pulled your pants off in a sign to Ellie that you were not joking about the no-touching statement, not allowing her any whisper of her fingers against your own. The flannel pools down her arms, letting you toss it into the small hamper near the window. The outside air commands it warm enough to also tug Ellie’s undershirt off, and she hums in approval when your fingers linger on the bare skin over her ribs, leaving only the fitted sports bra left. Next is her jeans, purposefully pressing your hands a little harshly into her hips, hoping to catch a small hint of Ellie squirming from it. She does, of course. The motion presses a heat in between your thighs, one that had been growing since Ellie and you had gotten home.

“Go grab stuff to sleep in?” You ask, though Ellie knows it isn’t a question. She stands, rummaging through the unorganized dresser near her bed to pull out a pair of sweatpants for herself and a larger shirt she wore often for you. Your shirt is quickly discarded, gaining the attention of Ellie’s wandering eyes as she holds the clothes close to her chest. The way she bites the inside of her cheek is enough of a sign that she’s frustrated you did it yourself, but no words follow the action.

El tosses you the shirt, one that smells like her in all the right ways as you tug it over your head, watching it bunch up at your hips. The second part of the plan building in your mind dictated no sleep shorts would follow, but Ellie seemed to not have grabbed you any pants, likely for her own pleasure of looking at your bare thighs. You press back into the bed, head finding the cold pillow at the tip of it as Ellie pulls on her sweatpants. The sight of her fingers curling around the fabric alone is enough to tighten your lower stomach again, slightly regretting your no-touching decision. Soon she follows your lead, climbing under the blankets to your left, small breaths of air leaving her lips as she looks over at you. “Can I at least lay against you?”

You shake your head in answer, watching Ellie shift uncomfortably next to you. “Baby-” she tries again, finding your eyes in the soft light. Your lips pull into a straight line with another sign of no, leading to groans from your girlfriend as a flash of auburn hair pushed back into the pillow dramatically.

The room falls into quiet again, the only noise that of shuffling sheets and the crickets that lay in the growing grass outside. When Ellie’s breath calms into a more tired sounding pull, you glance up to the ceiling. You let your mind fall into the building plan laid out in the dark ceiling above you. Your eyes press closed, cloudy paintings of Ellie leaning against you, Ellie grabbing at your thigh in the bar, kissing you, her angry little breaths that built as Jess spoke more— they all flood into your mind. You could act mad all you want, and maybe you were a bit angry at how Ellie liked to put out this image of her holding the power, but really the jealousy had you feeling warm all over.

Your palm presses against your chest, the pads of your fingers denting into the cotton of the shirt you wore, dragging down in a way that had you squirm just slightly. You would much rather it was Ellie’s hand that found your panties next, looking up at you from her knees as she waited for the next command. But it wasn’t, and you were much too stubborn.

Your fingers dipped under the elastic of the lace, shimmying them down slightly. Ellie stirred just a bit beside you but didn’t seem to notice what was happening yet. “Are we really just gonna lay here in silence?” she asks. Too focused on the pad of your fingers running along the slightly wet slit, all you do is hum in response. The wetness that dashes your finger is used as a helper as you rub circles on your clit.

The almost silent response seems to finally draw Ellie’s eyes to you, though the only light of the strings near her wall leaves little to be seen. What Ellie does notice, dim lights or not, is your eyes squeezing close. She noticed the motion of your arm, following it down to where your fingers are moving between your thighs. It sends her sitting straight up, which you can feel in the dip of the old mattress.

“What are you doing?” Ellie begins, cut off but the shush that you respond with. “Makin’ myself feel good,” you grumbled, as if it was annoying you that she watched. In reality, it just made the tightness in your stomach further, a tightly knotted rope that tugged in all the right ways when you felt green eyes searching over your body.

Ellie doesn’t answer for a few more moments, transfixed by the motion of your fingers, unable to put an end to the whine that finally sounds, reaching your ear right as you press a particularly hard swirl to your bud. “Let me,” Ellie croaks, moving to settle toward the end of the bed. From this angle you are sure she can see everything, even more so when you press your thighs open more, your glistening center on full display for your squirming girlfriend. The plan was working just as you assumed it would, her bratty mouth quieted by the sight.

“No,” you deny her, a small gasp following the words as you look at her. The sight is enough to bring another pool of wetness to your slit, which your fingers dip down into, pushing one digit into yourself. Ellie whines even louder than you at the sight, “Please, I’ll be good,” she tried again, a sweeter twinge to her voice that you knew was all an act. One you wouldn’t buy into despite how you imagined it was her fingers as you added another.

Your mind struggles to find the right words, but Ellie waits patiently. “Good?” you criticized, “Were you good when you acted like a brat out tonight? Were you good when you argued with me?”

The words are as stern as you can make them, urging your gaze to stay on her instead of falling back against the pillow. “Told you no touching, that’s the end of it,” you mumble. The wet noises of your fingers moving in and out of your center have Ellie salivating, licking her lips quickly as she eyes you. You can see the way her pupils dilate, you watch as her body goes a little less stiff. The earlier anger and insecurity that has been building against her freckled cheeks and sore muscles dissolving just like you wanted them to. You needed her to forget about the annoying girl earlier, and focus instead on you. on you two. You needed to carve away the brattiness in the only way you knew how making her beg for you.

You let a few moans pass your lips, hips bucking gently. You can feel the fire building in your core, knowing soon you will reach your peak.

“Please, I'm- sorry, I'm sorry baby please let me touch you. need to touch you,” Ellie rattled on.

You let her continue for a moment, her babbles filling the now thick air of her garage, pounding against your mind as it slipped away. When you finally feel yourself reaching the wave of pleasure in your lower belly, you stop, effectively edging yourself away from an orgasm.

“You wanna help me feel good?” You question, fighting the urge to squeeze your thighs closed to ease the ache as you stare at Ellie. She nods quickly, strands of hair following messily in the movement’s wake. “Still don’t-“ you breathe out, “Still can't touch me, but you can use your mouth. Hands to yourself baby,” you begin, but before you can even finish the sentence Ellie is laying between your thighs, hands balled together against the blanket, her hot mouth pressing into you before you can even process the action.

It draws a surprised noise from you, your head pressing back against the pillowcase, teeth digging into your bottom lip. Ellie listened, of course, she did, her hands staying put against the fabric of the sheets. Her mouth dug into your pussy like she was starving, nose bumping into your clit messily, licking up all of the slick that had drooled from you from your own fingers, now gushing out more and more regularly from her ministrations.

“Fuck,” you moan, flushing as your lip quivers. “You were fucking born for this Ellie, such a good mouth, so much— much better using it to do this than bein’ a brat,” you spit, fingers finding the short strands of her hair, pressing her face even closer into your folds as you searched for your release. Ellie whined against you, and you watched as her knuckles flexed, obviously fighting against grabbing at the flesh of your thighs.

“Put them.. put them behind your back,” you grit through your teeth, allowing no wavering to your words. Ellie knew what you meant immediately, green eyes looking up at you as she did as she was told, wrists grasping each other behind her back.

It’s a little mean, the way she has to shimmy around with no arms. The way you can see her blunt nails fig unto her skin to keep it from trying to find your skin like her body was begging to have you. Your own body was gasping for something similar, over-sensitive from your previous work on your clit.

“Such a good girl, Els” you breathe out, hips bucking into her face. “Gonna come, you’re taking it so well, pup.”

The pet name seems to render her almost useless, freezing up against you as you grind down into her mouth. She comes back a moment later, tripling her efforts as her lips come to wrap around your clit, sucking harshly.

You let a loud, messy sounding moan out, not caring who may hear outside. Not caring if it gave away too much of how you felt. With a girl as pretty as Ellie between your thighs, who would care?

She doesn’t allow herself more than a few panicked breaths, solely focused on making more noises empty your lips. She suckles against you particularly hard after you shift, and that’s the feeling that sends you toppling over the edge. A choked noise rips past your mouth before you can stop it, slick spilling all over Ellie as she desperately tries to collect it all. Your still moving hips leave that difficult, getting her lips and cheeks glossy as well. Your nails don't leave her scalp, scratching gently in a repeated motion. It has her pulling back from your core, blinking slowly, dazed as she stares at you.

“You’re being so good for me, baby,” you gush, riding out the leftover feelings from your orgasm. Your wall is breaking, craving your pretty girlfriend’s hands on you too much to keep up with the punishment for much longer. “Could never want anyone but you, y’know that right?” You huff, hand grasping her hair in a sign for her to lift up. She does so easily, hands on either side of the bed as she hovers above you, her lips ghosting over your own.

“No one could compare to my needy girl,” you coo, brushing your lips against hers. The words drive home a point you hadn’t yet made clear. Jess had no chance, no one did. No one could ever be Ellie. Your Ellie.

There’s nothing else around you now. No light, no sounds. The world is silent and dark, Ellie being the only source of light in your eyesight, in your ears, and your mind. Nothing deviated away from her as her lip trembled. The look of her has you quickly flipping your positions, settling nicely straddling over her, and finally blessing her with your hands against her as you lean over her. Your fingers find her jaw, pressing her mouth open in a soft motion. She wastes no time parting her lips further, tongue lolling out for you like she knew what was coming. When a string of spit falls from your lips and onto her waiting tongue, she accepts it gladly. “so good,” you uttered, shivering as she swallows.

“What do you want, baby?” You ask next, deeming she has listened nice enough to be rewarded.

“Let me kiss you,” Ellie whispers, sniffling gently as she adds a soft, “please.” You grant her wish, leaning to press a kiss to her waiting lips, the sound of approval she gives reverberating against your connected mouths.

“Such a perfect girl,” you blabber, stomach swirling as you watch her slip into that delicious space you always brought her to, whiney and wordless— looking at you like you were the only person in the whole damn world. Your words die off with another kiss, hand finding her boxers, dipping into the fabric. It greets you with a large wet spot, the dripping core of your girlfriend the obvious culprit. Ellie whimpers against your lips, and you swallow it like it's the most delicious thing you’ve ever been given, kissing her harshly, biting at the bottom lip.

When one finger sinks easily into her folds, you hum against her, lips dragging to her ear to mumble against it. “This is what you wanted the whole time, hm?” You ask, another finger dipping into the mix as you feel her walls grip around you. Like it was made for you. “Wanted me to get mad at you for acting like a needy whore.. wanted me to take you home and fuck you, let you know you’re the only one I want?” You accuse, nipping at her ear lobe as your digits curl, pulling another whine from your girlfriend.

The words are as true as they can be, and Ellie knows that. She acknowledges this with a nod of her head, and you don’t push much further. “Fit perfectly around my fingers, pup. Fuckin made for me,” your voice calls against her neck as you bite into the skin, a yelp from above you following it. She grinds into your fingers, and you allow it, following the rolls of her hips as you hit that spot that left her gasping.

“No one could ever get me like this, even as bratty as you are,” you promise, twisting your hand in a way that has her thighs moving without much permission from her mind, thrusting up into you. “Want you to soak my fingers, baby,” you nip at the nape of her neck, hot breath wetting the skin as you pull back. The quickening pace of your fingers has her delirious, mouth dropping open to pant.

You swear it may be the prettiest sight, and you pull back to get a full view. Your hair falls from its place, sticking to your sticky forehead, eyes focused sharply on Ellie as her cheeks became a deep cherry red, freckles disappearing into the red flesh. You want to reach forward, want to feel her gasp against your lips as you continue to hit her sweet spot over and over, but the way she pushes out sweet little moans is a much more gorgeous sight.

“What would our friends think?” You ask lowly, pressing into her harshly. “If they knew you were the whining whore under me hm?” Ellie cries out in response, shaking her head gently.

“Think it’d be funny. Them knowing that tough little Ellie is really just a bratty little bitch,” you croon, tone sickly sweet.

“Baby,” she cries, nose wrinkling as she pulls her eyes shut, “Please let me come, ‘m so close.”

The air around you is sticky, collecting on the skin of your arms and back as your wrist burns, quickening your movements with twists and scissoring movements. Ellie becomes too loud for her own good, teeth sinking into her lip to quiet it at least a little before she wakes the animals or people outside of these walls. Part of you wants them to hear, wants them to find the little pathetic sounding noises that pour from Ellie. Want someone to know it you who gets Ellie like this. Gets her squirming against you, begging for, “more,” and “harder.”

Who were you to deny such a handsome girl after all? With another thrust of your fingers, you feel her clench around you, her chest pausing as the feeling overwhelms her. The wetness spills over your fingers soon thereafter, leaving them even slicker as you continue. You were far from done with Ellie.

Ellie lifts her head, staring down at your fingers that disappear in and out of her clenching pussy, “please, no more.”

“You were actin needy all night,” you push, words partnered with another thrust into the wet center. The sound it makes is filthy, a devilish grin finding a place on your lips. “So you can take as much as I want to give you.”

The may night covers around any sounds that spill from the small garage, walls acting as protectors for what really happens behind them.

perm taglist: @rxllingstones @hrtsellie @elliewlums @callmekittenandyourmajesty @gr1mreaperbarbie @imyour-favouritegirl @haiixo @dankpunks @machetegirl109

tags for this fic: @anchoeritic @dyk3ification @prrimordiais @totheblood @shesluxurious @jakesullyslongshlong

[morallyinept]

Ring Toss - A Frankie Morales One Shot 🍩

Summary: Frankie comes home with a box of treats, just for you.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x GN!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It's you, bub.)

Word Count: 2.5k-ish

Scoville Smut Rating: 🌶🌶 "It's the emergence, of."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Explicit: Oral, M receiving/mild dirty talk. Delicious food porn with Frankie. What else is there to say?

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don't come at me; you've been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author's Note: Frankie and donuts... 🤤 Dedicated to lovely @secretelephanttattoo 🍩😘

MASTERLIST | FRANKIE MORALES MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

The box of sweet, sticky treats is calling your name.

You can’t resist them. Nu-uh, no way. Your one weakness and he knows it.

You pout up at him, trying to be riled, but the smirk on his tan face blooms across those luscious pink lips of his, and despite you wanting to slap it off of his chops at his gall of tempting you - you know you can't resist his sweet face either under that patchy scruff.

“I’m on a diet.” You scowl at him, trying not to smirk back.

“Screw the diet, hermosa. You can have one, right?” Frankie shrugs, looming in front of you.

“Noooo. It’ll undo all the hard work I did at the gym today.” You whine. The ache in your calves reminds you to hold strong. And maybe not go so hard on the cross trainer next time...

Frankie scoffs, holding the box out to you and you continue to refuse the sugary, deep-fried treats that are inside ganging up on and leering at you.

You can smell them. Oh God. It's like he's opened up Pandora’s Box and colourful sprinkles and sticky, creamy glazes are calling out to you; luring you in like a Siren song only you can hear.

Hijo de puta!

“I got 'em fresh. I got the custard ones, I know they’re your favourite.” Frankie insists with a tempting pink purse of his lips.

“You did?” You ask leaning forward to peer into the box.

Yep, there they were; oozing and sticky with that thick gloop leaking out of one of them like it had been shot and was bleeding out its vanillary insides.

No, stop it!

“Yeah.” He nods, smiling pleasantly down at you from under that well worn in cap; his messy curls rioting behind his ears. Deep brown eyes penetrate you with a beguiling simmer laced around them.

It was really sweet of him, touching. He knows what you like and how to make you happy. It's the little things Frankie does that give you the constant heart eyes for him.

The way he holds open the passenger side door for you on his beat up Pickup, and always takes your hand as you step out like you're his queen.

The way he always greets you when you come home from work with a swamping, lingering kiss, pushing you up agaisnt the back of the door, readily equipped with his large hands squeezing and groping at your body affectionately, before you've even said hello to one another.

The way he stops off on the way home from his group therapy sessions on a Thursday, to grab a box of fresh donuts from Dough Boyz, and ensures your favourites are plentiful.

Frankie smiles with tempting, molten eyes. Big browns out on full display. That same puppy-dog look he gives you which renders you absolute mush at his feet, usually.

“I hate you.” You shake your head. The pout is back and it's staying put. Much like your stony resistance.

“You hate me, huh?” Frankie baulks with a tinkling chuckle as he scratches at his scruff under his chin.

You fold your arms, sinking back into the couch and refusing him, trying to watch the TV - anything to distract you away from that heady, saccharine scent that wafts from the forbidden box of calorific delights.

“Suit yourself, muñeca. More for me.” Frankie says casually, tossing the box on the coffee table.

“I hope you get fat!” You call to him playfully as he saunters off towards the kitchen, his laugh echoing around you.

"You want a coffee?" He calls back.

"No, thanks," you humpf in response.

He leaves it there, lid open whilst he goes into the kitchen. You glance at it; your eyes darting back and forth at the temptation of sticking your fingers in and selecting the one that oozes with that yellowy-golden custard you long to taste cloying around your gums.

It's a test. You know it. Leave it open to tempt and twist you into finally submitting, and then Frankie would walk in to catch you red-handed and to see half of them snarffed up; crumbs mottled down your top and smeared sugar constellations across your cheeks.

Oh, he is such an asshole!

Frankie pads back into the lounge after a few minutes with his coffee and sits on the sofa adjacent to you, putting his long legs up on the coffee table and crossing them at the ankles. He reaches forward for a donut.

You watch as his dexterous, thick fingers pry a glazed ring out of the box, and he sits back into the cushions getting comfortable, bringing it up to his mouth.

Oh, it's like watching a filthy, X-rated porno.

How those plush, pink lips would part and he’d bite into the dough, licking his lips free of the sticky glaze. Shrapnels of glaze getting stuck in the fuzz of his moustache.

He watches the TV absentmindedly whilst he feasts quietly, unaware you want to launch the box of sugary treats at his head for bringing them here, the shithead.

But you want one, you soooo want one.

No! I worked hard this week. No treats!

But one won’t hurt.

You can’t just have one though, can you?!

But he brought you custard donuts, he loves you.

Fuck!

His dark eyes flick towards yours and you look away as he brings his coffee back up to his lips and smirks.

You try to invest yourself into whatever the heck it is rolling across the TV screen, but the overwhelming scent of sugar, and the sound of him smacking his lips together, soon draws your attention away again.

Frankie sucks his fingers slowly; the squeaking wet sounds of them popping out of his lewd mouth, before he runs his tongue around his teeth, sounds like it's gunfire inside your ears, thundering.

Loud enough for you to know the bastardo is doing it on purpose. Louder than the steam coming out of your ears.

Fuck that fucking fucker!

Your willpower is waning as you stare at the box of donuts on the coffee table taunting and seducing you.

No, I'm not going to give in. He wants me to and I’m not going to give him the satisfaction. Nope!

You glance at Frankie and he's watching you again with those dark chocolate eyes. “Just have one, you know you want to.” He tempts you.

Yeah, all he needs is a horned tail and a pitchfork, right?

“That’s not the point, I can’t have one. You know I can’t.” You sulk, shaking your head.

“Why? Because you went to the gym? One donut isn’t going to fucking hurt, hermosa.” He scoffs, chuckling.

You turn away again. “You don’t get it.”

“Hey, I’m all for keeping fit, but a treat now and again in moderation is good, baby.” He smiles. "You've earned it."

You shake your head trying to ignore him.

“You’re really gonna resist?” Frankie questions.

You nod. “Yes. Yes I am.”

“Well alright.” He sighs, admitting defeat.

You watch the TV again, smouldering away. You then see him reach forward and put his coffee cup down on the table in your peripherals.

He reaches into the box, with those wandering fingers once more. The one he pulls out is a plain one; the sister of the previous he'd just devoured.

He eyes it and then puts it back and reaches for another that takes his fancy instead; this time choosing one with sprinkles scattered across the pink, shiny glaze.

He sits back into the cushions again and looks darkly at you.

“You really won’t eat this?” Frankie questions.

“No.” You shake your head again feeling your brain rattle inside your skull.

“But what if I really want you to eat it, to enjoy it? I mean, I brought these as a reward for how well you’ve been doing lately at the gym… what a waste.” He sighs, shaking his head. He pouts at you too, those thick lips pursed out.

“Are you trying to guilt trip me, Morales? It’s not working.” You confirm, frowning.

"Ya lo veremos..." Frankie sighs with a slick smile.

"Stop it," you warn.

You watch him put the donut between his lips and then let go; it balances precariously between those plumpy, pink smackers and his fuzzy moustache.

With his hands, he simply reaches down, undoes the buckle on his belt, the button on his jeans, and then unzips his fly.

You watch, with widening eyes, as he pulls out his cock and pumps it a few times in his fist.

You can hear him groan around the donut hanging out of his mouth; eyes rolling back as he acqaints himself with his thick, swelling dick.

Oh shit...

He jerks on his cock; little wheezed breaths pelting out of his chest, until he's fully hard and rigid in his hand.

He looks at you the whole time he's doing it too.

“What... are you doing?” You baulk at him, feeling hot prickles dance on the back of your neck. The heat flares all over your body and you clench your fist around the throw over the couch you're sitting on.

He waggles his eyebrows at you suggestively with a small shrug of his shoulders, unable to speak with the donut hanging out of his mouth; his saliva starting to melt the glaze that he can feel pooling in the corners.

Frankie then takes the donut from his mouth, licking crudely at his lips, and simply places it over his stiff cock. Sliding his thick member through the hole tightly in the centre, and pushes it down as far as it will go without breaking.

The donut rubber-rings itself around him and he lets go. His cock stands up right, fully hard and bobbing two and fro a little with the weight of the donut around it.

You swallow hard as he sits there waiting for you expectantly. He rests his arms over the top of his head; eyes peering darkly at you from under the rim of his cap. He juts his hips forward, challenging you brazenly.

Frankie's smirk is widening, and your cheeks are turning more red as the seconds wear on. Red with fury, red with abject need...

Oh, you son of a b-

“Frankie-”

“Eat it,” he encourages with an ever-widening grin and beckons you over with two fingers. "Come here."

You sigh, and then giggle in unison with him as he chuckles.

"You're such an ass."

“Come on,” he rouses, wiggling his hips from side to side and his cock rocks, life buoyed inside the donut and bites his lip suggestively.

You stand up, completely caving; a sound escaping you similar to a bear disturbed from their hibernation, and make your way towards him, utterly burning up now.

Yeah, he’s totally done a number on you alright.

“You’re gonna make a mess all over your jeans.” You roll your eyes.

He shakes his head. “You’d better eat it quickly then before it sticks.” Frankie teases as you approach him.

He runs his pointer finger around the orbit of the donut, in the pink glaze, and sucks it into his mouth.

"Mmm," he quips and klaxons sound in your ears.

“You’re such a bad influence,” you remark to him, trying to resist his allure.

He pulls you forward by your wrists and your face meets his. “It’s why you love me.” He purrs before he kisses you.

"I do, damnit." You sigh.

His lips are sweetly tasting and you suck on his bottom lip, sampling the crusted glaze and groan in delight at the sugar rush of it.

You reach down to feel his swollen head poking out the top of the donut oozing. You suck your fingers and they are sweetly swirled with the donut glaze and that salty glaze all of his own that beads from the slit.

“You taste really good.” You murmur to him.

“Oh, I know,” Frankie smirks. “You should have more of me, hermosa.” He incites.

You kneel down between his legs and crane forward. Looking up at him, you take a gentle bite from the donut, and he bites his lip again watching you.

Oh, it tastes fucking better than you could have imagined.

Your fingers are scratching inside the soft, downy hairs of his thighs into his groin as he thrusts his hips out a little more towards you.

The donut tastes fantastic, and you make sure to allow your lips to brush over him now and again, making him gasp and shudder.

Yeah, now it's your turn to tease the fuck out of him.

The gummy taste of the glaze coates him and sticks to his skin; you eat more of the donut from around his cock, savouring it. It's a sticky sweet mess that makes you whine. Makes you sweat. Makes your head swim and your sex pulse in desire and need.

"That's it, baby. Eat it all up..." Frankie encourages.

You scoff the donut around him, slowly revealing more of his impressive and hard cock that you long to devour.

Thick, veiny and so fucking hard. A beautifully flushed head that drips and throbs as you run your tongue over it, tasting every morsel of that sticky syrup.

Your body clenches and drools in response.

"Mmm," he croons, smiling.

Frankie runs his hands through your hair as you finish it; crumbs from the dough dotted around his length and dappled in the fuzzy short hairs at the base of him as you swallow your last mouthful of the wondrous treat.

His eyes burn into yours as he watches you lick up the side of his shaft where the glaze is stuck in wet globules, and you feel his cock pulse in response.

“Yeah…” He whispers, keenly and nodding at what's to come. "Suck it."

You open your mouth as you get to the top, placing him inside and you swallow him down.

“Fuck!” Frankie whines out; his head thrown back against the couch cushions as you give him that sweet, succulent head that he craves.

Your fingers claw into his thighs as you bob up and down, head stuffed inside his lap, sucking him clean. You lick and kiss the whole length of him. Tonguing around the head like a popiscle, licking up the thick vein on the underside of his shaft, and slurping him down deeper into the trenches of your throat.

You feel him put a gentle pressure on the back of your head; he wants you to deep throat him, to take him in all the way. To choke and gag on him as that frothy spittle hangs from your lips.

He grunts out as you do it; swallowing his thick, tasty cock deep inside your throat and pressing your nose against the skin above his groin.

You inhale him in, sighing in satisfaction as you do. You love the taste of him, the fullness of him. The way he packs you out around your cheeks.

He feels you heave around him and hisses out as the back of your throat squeezes around him.

"Eso se siente tan jodidamente bien, no pares..." he groans with a silky hiss.

Frankie pulls out and you gasp for air; crystal saliva strings dangling from his swollen head to your mouth.

He pulls you up and kisses you; tasting the donut, tasting himself and smirking at you.

Sucking on your tongue, Frankie whines and your body is burning up. You're craving more. The sugar rush floods through your veins making your fingers shake.

"More, baby." Frankie encourages. "You're so fucking good at that."

He lets go of you and you go back to sucking him off. Holding the base of him steady, and he throws his hands up again behind his capped head, shuffling down the couch a little; enjoying the show of you taking him in.

Hungry for it, hungry for him. Basking in that candy coated wonderland of that sweet tasting cock.

You work his shaft, pumping as you go to really get him going; massaging his balls that are aching to release, and give him plenty of eye contact as he watches you mouth on him.

“Fuck, baby I’m gunna come…” Frankie gasps; his thighs twitching and shaking as he releases, filling your mouth with that delicious, thick custard of his own.

He tastes so fucking good.

He watches, enthralled, as you swallow it all down, licking your lips and sucking your fingers afterwards.

“Yum,” you murmur at him with a wink.

Frankie smiles at you through flushed cheeks and blissed out brown eyes like he's high, utterly beside himself in post-coital dumbness for a few beats.

You promptly stand up and turn to the box on the coffee table, plucking out that weeping custard donut, and sit back in your spot on the adjacent couch and bite into it.

Frankie chortles loudly; cock and balls still out as you devour that delicious custard treat without any ounce of guilt.

"Knew you couldn't resist." He chants.

"You play dirty, Morales." You say around a mouthful and it's heavenly.

"Always, hermosa."

Yeah, one or two donuts won’t hurt, right?

I really hope you enjoyed reading this tasty treat with Frankie. If you did, please consider re-blogging this so others can also have their fill. I'd love to know your thoughts too. Thanks so much for reading! 🖤

MASTERLIST | FRANKIE MORALES MASTERLIST

[blackcherryvelvet0909]

Night Drive (Rook x GN!Reader)

You sighed as you opened the balcony doors, the cool sea breeze kissing you hello. The view that met your vision was absolutely breathtaking - not a thing could beat it. When you realized the room you and Grim would share at the resort had a balcony, you were thrilled. You figured Crowley would just stick you both in the cheapest room he could find, your only view of the alley between hotels or something. The irritation you held for the headmaster mattered not at the moment. A hum of delight vibrated in your throat as you sat back in a lounge chair to bask in the evening. 

The beach was dark, quiet aside from the soft crash of the waves. The moon shone high above, its visage reflected in the sea. As another gentle wind caressed your skin and tousled your hair, you closed your eyes to further relax yourself. You faintly registered the TV as it played whatever show Grim decided to watch, the cat preoccupied by the screen. For now, he was content with his shows and ice cream. There were no chores or duties for you to attend to, either. For once, you could fully relax and be at ease. 

As you opened your eyes, your gaze fell on the hotel adjacent to yours. The two were owned by the same resort - some of the wealthier students had gotten rooms there. Well, condos, really. They were twice as big as the room you were in, their balconies just as huge. You scanned the apartments from top to bottom as you wondered just how grand they were. Kalim had thought about having a movie night in his - maybe you’d get to see then. 

Just as you were about to look away, you caught a glimpse of someone walking out onto one of the balconies. The figure looked familiar, so you squinted to try and get a better look at them. You quickly recognized the man now leaned against the railing: Rook. His gaze fell on the beach and its nightly splendor; it seemed he, like you, had come out to enjoy the view. You wondered how many times Rook had been to a place like this. You kept forgetting that, like Riddle, Rook’s family was also pretty wealthy. It was no surprise he was in one of the more upscale rooms. 

As Rook’s head turned as his eyes swept over the area, he suddenly stopped when he looked in your direction. You felt eyes upon you - he’d caught you staring. With how keen his eyesight was, he must see how surprised you are to see him. Feeling a bit embarrassed, you smiled and gave him a small wave. Your suspicions were confirmed as he waved back. You watched as he took something out of his pocket and brought it to his face. His expression was finally revealed to you as his phone screen lit up. 

He was smiling, but it was not mischievous or anything. It looked quite fond, actually - sweet. You saw in the dim light that he wore a plain dark purple t-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants, feet bare on the concrete balcony floor. It was odd to see Rook dressed so casually, unlike how he usually presented himself around Vil. You remembered when he and Rook revealed that Rook’s original dorm had been Savanaclaw…you wondered if he looked similar to how he did now back then. You were pulled out of your thoughts as your phone rang in your pocket. When you took it out, you saw the name of the person calling: Rook.

“Hi, Rook,” you answered, a shy lilt to your voice. 

“Bonjour, trickster.” You heard him chuckle as you watched him sit in a chair on his balcony. “There is no need to be shy; I do not mind your gaze upon me.”

“I know,” you mumbled. “Still, it was rude of me to stare. If you were anyone else, they’d likely think I was trying to spy on them.” 

“Oui, that is true.” You watched Rook manspread as he leaned back in his chair - yet another odd thing to see. You wondered if he was often this casual away from Vil’s eye. “But is that not the thrill? To peek behind the curtains of one’s window, to glimpse into their life? Such beauty can be hidden in those private places.” 

“Yeah…” You honestly didn’t know how to feel about that. It was probably normal for Rook to try and do so, but for you…you just hoped he had the decency to look away when someone was getting dressed or something. You adjusted yourself in your lounge chair as you spoke again. “Anyways, what were you doing before you came out?”

“I was in the shower,” he answered simply. 

“Oh, sorry! That was weird of me to ask.” 

“Non non, do not apologize!” Rook chuckled under his breath, likely seeing your flustered expression from his spot. His eyesight was so keen it was scary. “Such a normal, mundane part of life should not be shameful to discuss. It is simply one beauty becoming another!” 

“That’s one way to see it,” you chuckled. 

“And what were you doing, trickster?” 

“Just out here trying to relax.” You glanced over your shoulder to see Grim still on the bed, eyes glued to the TV. “Grim’s watching something on the TV; I thought it’d be the best time to slip out here.” 

“Ah, yes, you are quite the busy person.” You watched as Rook ruffled his hair to fluff it up. “You are like a bee buzzing to and fro, so dutiful, yet so fatigued. All to please a queen - or, in your case, a headmage.” 

“Yeah,” you sighed in a mix of annoyance and frustration. “Don’t I know it.” You laughed a little as you saw a seagull fly overhead. “Don’t talk too loud, Crowley might hear you.”

“I would bear such a powerful scolding with pride.” He was certainly braver than you…more patient, too. “Should he ever find out about our little conversation, I will take full responsibility.” You could see the glimpse of a smile in the faint light of his phone. “In return, might I ask a gift from you, trickster?” 

“Depends on the gift,” you mused. 

“Let me aid you in your next task,” he said. “Whatever it may be.” 

“Rook, you don’t have to do that.” 

“I want to.” He sounded so genuine, you practically melted. Your heart continued to flutter as he continued. “Though I admire your dedication and elegance in overcoming every obstacle, I know when you have grown weak, trickster. Were it not for this trip, you would have collapsed from exhaustion.” You watched him lean forward in his chair, arm now rested over his knee; though he was far away, you felt those bottle green eyes pierce into yours. “It would be my pleasure to help someone so beautifully strong.” 

If it were anyone else, you would have either questioned their motives or thought they’d torn that line from a book - or both. But this was Rook, who, despite his eccentricities, was not one to lie, at least to you. He was always so sincere when he spoke to you, gentle even. Could he really see through you that well; if so, he cared enough about you to sacrifice his precious hunting time? You’d likely be the prey then, but it just…felt different. You knew he could see the heartfelt smile that formed on your lips. In turn, you could nearly feel his breath against your ear as he mumbled a chuckle in response. 

“Thank you, Rook. That means a lot…I’ll be sure to ask for your help next time I’m overwhelmed.” 

“I look forward to it~” 

“Henchman!” You whipped your head around to look at Grim, who now stood at the edge of the glass doors. “I’m hungry! Let’s go get tuna.” 

“Grim, it’s almost ten,” you sighed. “We have some snacks in the cabinet you can ea-”

“They’re not the same!” he protested. As if to accentuate his need, Grim’s stomach growled loudly. You wouldn’t be surprised if Rook could hear it over the phone. 

You sighed again, this time longer and more tired. “Alright, we’ll go see if they have some downstairs. If they don’t…I really don’t want to leave this late at night. I don’t think Ace or Deuce would be willing to come with us, and I don’t want to bother Malleus while he has a stomach ache…”

“I can drive you.” 

You were nearly startled by Rook’s voice in your ear again. You were so surprised at his offer you wondered if you heard him right. “Huh?”

“Monsieur Fuzzball will not sleep until his appetite is sated, yes? Thus, you will not be able to sleep.” You watched as Rook stood up from his chair. “If there is no tuna available in the lobby, text me. I will get dressed and meet you there.”

“Rook, you really don’t have to-”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Rook tutted. “Did you not say I could help you in your next hour of need?” You could hear his smile over the phone. “It seems that hour has come sooner than expected.” 

You felt guilt pang your heart as you glimpsed the time on the clock in your room: 10:12 p.m. By the time you got to the grocery store, or somewhere open late that served tuna, it’d be 10:30 p.m. It’d be so late when you got back… “You’re really sure?” 

“It would be my privilege, trickster.” 

Though you still felt that guilt in your gut, you couldn’t help but feel your spirits lift, your smile along with it. “Thanks, Rook. I’ll go down and see if they have some. If they don’t, I’ll text you.” You tried to think of how much money you had on you. It wasn’t much…you could at least pay for the tuna, maybe the gas to get there and back. 

Apparently the hunter could read minds, too, for he caught you off guard with what he said next. “And it is my treat, trickster. A few cans of tuna and a car ride is a small price to pay for such a nightly excursion.” 

You nearly giggled. “You say that like we’re going for a night out.” 

“Hm…that is an idea.” He paused for a moment before he spoke again. “When it is not so late, and you are so tired, I shall see that thought is made a reality, ma petite trickster.”

“W-Wait, what do you-” 

“Let me know when to come down,” Rook interrupted, already making his way back into his condo. He glanced over his shoulder to look at you from across the wide space separating you two. Once more, you could hear his smile on the other end. “I cannot wait to see what your beauty is like in the evening, [Y/n].” 

The sound of your name on his lips played over and over in your head as he hung up. He hadn’t called you that before…and he sounded so sincere again. Rook was so…strange. He was always so hard to read - yet you found a smile pulling at your lips once more. You put your phone back in your pocket as you walked into your hotel room, glass door locking behind you and Grim as you shut it. Grim looked rather happy you actually took him seriously; for once, you felt the same. 

Rook looked good in those ripped jeans, that dark green tee, those hiking boots, and that snapback cap, car keys in hand as he walked off the elevator to greet you. 

[raainberry]

Crowd Pleaser

« One (performer or product) that is notably or reliably popular or appealing »

Sana x gn!reader

Angst

synopsis - players play, but there can only be one winner

wordcount - 980?

T/W - definitely suggestive

A/N - short angst bc its been a while, although im on the fence about this one, enjoy!

Opposites attract. Or was it birds of a feather?

In your three years as a philanderer, you found neither of those rules to be truer than the other. It was easier to call it what it always is : chemistry. Or chemicals went awry?

The latter seemed more fitting ever since Sana started playing around you. Your appointed rival, for gossiping’s sake. You wondered why she’d suddenly taken interest in you, and got your answer pretty quickly.

She’s crazy.

Loves the eyes on her, the attention. You couldn’t blame her. You understood her—at least to certain extent.

You liked it better when the attention was given behind closed doors. Privately, in hushed whispers, wordless stares as you walked by.

Sana…. She liked to make a show out of it.

Her sweet idea of fire worth playing with was the campus’ must try. At least for the worthy enough in her eyes. For the others it was a must see. As cruel as she could be, her behavior was art. Something about her eyes, her smile; it was a performance.

The way she messed with people them left them clueless, barely aware of themselves, their mind in pieces scattered around their dignity; the only thing she was kind enough to leave them with.

You watched every time a poor soul foolishly lead the way to its despair, hand holding onto its downfall.

You could say they were unkowing, unaware of the damage they laid themselves open to, but it would only be a lie. They were simply human enough to risk it all for a taste of what was popular.

It was captivating.

The way her eyes left her toy, looking back to the crowd she was leaving behind. A gesture as innocent as she could display herself to be, but only for the less aware. The most informed knew, she was looking for you.

Her gaze never wasted time, to the point she knew exactly where to catch yours. No matter the place, all she had to do was look past everyone else’s spellbound faces.

There you were, looking right back at her. The only one conscious enough to appreciate the end of her show.

Her winks stuck on your mind long after she disappeared into the whatever car her date got their hands on in hopes to impress her.

BMWs, rented Mercedes, a sweet Chevy, daddy’s Aston Martin… You chuckled at every single attempt. Not that you had any better, or even the means to get anything close to those.

In all humility, you didn’t mock their efforts either. It was only hard not to laugh at the thought of how easily you could turn all that blood and sweat into tears.

All you had to do was reach for her hand.

Though that ease worked your mind down, weakening it until you couldn’t hide anything in there anymore.

“Why do you make it so easy?” You asked her one night.

You’d helped her leave the mess she’d made of someone hours ago. Habit had her following you into your apartment, borrowing your bathroom before joining her roommate back in the dorms.

Her makeup was halfway off, revealing nothing but an even prettier sight. Her eyes seemed to be softer on you than they were moments ago. “What do you mean?”

“Why do you make it easy for me to steal you away?” You repeated, looking away from her to grab a cushion to hold against your chest.

Your studio apartment was a very small space, one allowing you to reach the bathroom in two steps from the couch you also used as a bed.

Sana loved to leave the door open, inviting you into her late night routine. Whatever had to do with her skin, you somehow knew about it. From the products she used, down to the weak spots; their complicated names and the sounds that rolled off her tongue whenever you let curiosity get the best of you.

“I could ask you the same thing.” She smiled at her own reflection. “But I doubt the answer will please you.”

“Since when do you care to please me?” You scoffed, kicking a stuffed animal at your feet.

Sana’s hands stuttered on her skin before letting silence claim the room. It certainly was better than anything she could answer to that. Better than the truth you definitely didn’t need to hear aloud.

So she left you in it, gathering her stuff and placing them neatly inside of a pouch she probably cared about more than you before walking out. The sound of your front door closing behind her only made it all painfully obvious.

You blinked your tears away, and held back on your sobs. Pride was too much of a strong word to make it a motive. You probably never had any, or it stopped existing when you started to play a part in her performance.

Shame was just as bad of a choice. Nothing shameful about succumbing to desire. Maybe a little in blurring the lines between the scene and reality.

It took a while to break the silence she left behind. About the same amount of time it took for your tears to reach your lips.

You winced at the feeling, the taste… It was all too familiar, you ended up choking at the memory.

The kisses you shared were always stained by her own tears. Not from sadness, nor happiness. Anger. Emotions you were both supposed to leave out of the equation.

You sniffled, still holding the sobs within your chest. The pressure built up enough to force a chuckle, a laugh out of fear of letting her win.

Funny.

That’s what it could be, the word. Ironically funny.

You barely even knew what you didn’t want to lose anymore, if at all.

It was neither a matter of pride or shame—nothing.

Nothing mattered.

In the world, in your eyes, in her mind.

Nothing except her.

[freestyle-crocodile-trashpile]

The reaction of Obanai , mitsuri , shinobu , rengoku and giyuu are fine! It's alright if you just two of them or one though.

I'm sorry for not being specific and thank you for responding ⊙⁠﹏⁠⊙

[A/n:You're fine, don't worry, and I took Obanai out since i know nothing about him, sorry. Thank you for requesting]

Summary:You die to save them

Type:Short Scenarios: Mitsuri X GN!Reader: Shinobu X GN!Reader: Rengoku X M!Reader: Giyuu X GN!Reader

Giyuu

He was in denial until he killed the demon

He refused to believe you actually died

He would quite literally go through the four stages of grief right there

And wend i say he was pissed, I mean it

He would get super mad, like start shaking

Then he'd realize the demon is dead so his anger would turn into sadness and he'd collapse onto you

He would cry and scream until the sunrised

Giyuu, would he be more distant

Before the hashiras knew what happened Shinobu teased him about being more distant

And he went off on her, the same day they all learned what happened

For once, Shinobu apologized to Giyuu

Mitsuri

She realized as soon as you didn't respond

She was still fighting the demon, so she turned around for a second and saw you laying dead on the floor

She'd call your name, completely forgetting about the demon you'd become her main concern

She'd throw herself to you no matter how bad it hurts

She wouldn't let go, pulling you onto her lap she'd do everything to see if your awake or not

Mitsuri may be the love hashira, but she had no more love for anything else in that room

She killed that demon in the most brutal way possible. The only love was the love for you, the one who is currently dead

Once the demon was killed, she collapsed by you, and just layed down against you

She would cry into your hoari until the Kakushi arrived and took you away

It was actually a battle for Kakushi to take you, since she wasn't down with you

But once she got back, everyone had heard. She was almost as quiet as Giyuu those couple of weeks she was grieving

Rengoku

He and the demon would be quiet for a second

Since it was Akaza who killed him, you would have collapsed against Rengoku as the demon ran

Rengoku would drop his sword and knees just to hold you

That's the only reason Akaza didn't die right then and there

Rengoku would try everything in his power to save you, pressing against the wound, telling you to control your breathing, everything

But nothing worked. You died in his arms and left him broken and angry

He held you close and tried to keep his composer since Tanjiro, Inosuke, and Zenitsu were around

But he couldn't. They all could see him shaking, and Zenitsu could hear his crys and the quiet words he's was whispering to you

As you died, he would whisper sweet nothingness into your ears to give you some peace

Once he felt you fully go limp, he'd break , he'd start crying heavily, holding onto you like his life depended on it

It broke him, and the other slayers around him, Rengoku couldn't go home that day, he wouldn't be able to take it....

Shinobu

For once, her calm and happy demeter broke

You could see the pissed look, but it was also mixed with sadness

She couldn't bare herself to look at you, but she also couldn't look away

She's stared at your body with so many different emotions

Her heart would break when she fully processed your death

That demon definitely didn't make it out, not for a long shot

That demon was killed particularly instantly

Once she saw its head turn to ash, she sat next to you

Holding your head in her lap, she'd gently brush your hair as tears fell from your eyes

Then she'd wonder, why do the people I love keep dying in my arms?

She'd try to keep her composer, and even try to tease Giyuu again, but she couldn't do either

[A/n:Sorry if this is bad, I'm bad with writing about the death if a loved one 😅. I hope you enjoyed]

[catmansquad]

Unstable (3)

Here we go again... Even more Yandere!Miguel

You were filled with joy and mirth, a night out at a table at the Yew Crozier, surrounded by friends. The table was filled with empty glasses and half-drunk ones. But you were most grateful to your husband; the man who was nearly too large for the chair, long legs tucked awkwardly under the table. He was smiling, he was laughing, and he almost always had a hand on you. Either taking your own, when the moment struck him, or leaving you minutely flustered at his touch running up and down your thigh in gentle yet firm strokes only for you to witness. It was a welcome relief; to see him to so full of vitality again, a decent night’s sleep where you had been practically glued to his body, held in strong arms in a grip he did not relinquish until the late hours of the morning. It had always been “let’s not get up yet” or “just five more minutes”, accompanied by soft smooches that made his words very difficult to resist.

If you only knew just how shallow and forced his each and every reaction truly was. Deep in his chest, anger boiled and writhed like a hissing serpent. Miguel was irritated; he did not enjoy the noisy atmosphere, his heightened senses were being irritated by the stench of alcohol, the tiresome voices and laughter of your friends. He was sat at a table with a group of complete strangers, pretending to know them, pretending to laugh at their awful jokes. The only reason that he did not rise, grab the table and take them all out in one great swing was that you were right by his side. You were his. These friends of yours didn’t understand- they couldn’t grasp just how deep his affections ran for you. It didn’t matter. He had all their names, their faces, their addresses and those of their close family and friends. He was plotting, plotting so deeply. ‘Mig?’ Your voice drew Miguel from the dark palace of his mind, back into the hazy, heady atmosphere of the Yew Crozier, your eyes on him, almost expectantly. ‘Hm?’ At his questioning hum, your eyes narrowed, almost disappointed. ‘C’mon, Mig… I was just telling them about Spider-man. We have a Superhero now. A living, breathing Superhero; suited, masked, buff as hell…’ The murmurs of agreement flowed around the table, of people recounting the scant few sightings of the Superhero, of the accidents he had prevented and the lives he had saved. Miguel felt the tension gradually ease from his body- finally, a topic he could enjoy listening to. Pride was a beast all its own in his chest. ‘Seems like a nice guy. I haven’t seen him myself, but I see he’s already got quite the reputation among you.’ He squinted as one of your friends turned their phone to him; showing the blurry image of the red and blue clad Superhero swinging through the city by night. ‘Man is absolutely awesome. He’s also an absolute beast. Must be nearly seven feet tall and could probably juggle cars for fun. I’d let him web me up and take me wherever he wants.’ Miguel bit back the urge to laugh at their admittance. There was only one person he had eyes and urgings for, and you were sat right beside him. At a particularly filthy comment from one friend in particular about just how they would like Spider-man to treat them, answered by amused laughter by nearly everyone else at the table, Miguel quietly decided that he’d had enough of them for one night. He yawned into the palm of his hand, hiding his fangs, before stretching with a smile and a soft groan, settling an arm across your shoulders. ‘I think I’m gonna have to call it a night, mi amor, I’ll see you at home, mm?’ His kiss on your cheek was sweet, and lingered for slightly too long. You weren’t too bothered, just another sign of Miguel’s near-constant exhaustion finally breaking through his renewed energy. You smiled and tried to return the kiss, watching your husband try and move his head to draw your lips to his own at the last moment with a confident smirk, before finally he stepped away, hand ghosting warm across your shoulder. ‘I’ll see you when I get back, Miggy. Won’t stay here too late, I promise.’

Nearly two hours later, you and your friends stumbled, merry and tipsy into the moonlit streets. Swaying from each other’s shoulders for support. Some of your friends were trying to sing, but their words were slurred and half the lyrics were forgotten and replaced by hiccups. It was only halfway down a silent street did one friend in particular blink up at the moon and raise a shaking finger, pointing. ‘L-look! Look! There! ‘S…. It’s Sp-hic-tarantula-man!’ You followed his gaze, feeling slightly more sober than your friends for the sight of the red and blue Superhero who was swinging across the city with a majestic grace, spinning lines of webbing from wrists and flipping into a perfect somersault to land before you and your friends, much to their awe and appreciation. ‘Well, look who’s out for the night…’ The Superhero widened his stance, hands on hips, tone warm and joyful. ‘Does your husband know you’re out this late? He’s probably worried sick about you?’ You tried to ignore your friends’ growing hysteria at the Superhero’s proximity. ‘… You know about my wedded life?’ ‘Can I tell you a secret? I’m deep in love myself.’ You watched that expressive mask narrow in a wink. ‘Want me to walk you home, or do you think you’ll make it without being run over?’ He chuckled softly, watching Your flustered reaction. ‘… I think… I’ll shout for you if I need help.’ ‘Heh. Sure, looks like your friends want my help right now- they look like they’re about to pass out.’ He kept his gaze on you as he hurried off into the night. Lyla was keeping tabs; she would ensure you were home safely. But he would get back first, just one thing to do first. He held out his strong arms, beckoning softly. ‘C’mon then, guys. Huddle up if you want a photo! Other places to be tonight!’

As your friends gathered around, he draped his arms across as many as he could, chuckling good naturedly, bringing them closer and endured the flashing lights of primitive phones, photo after photo from hysterical people, resisting the urge to push them off from hugging him until finally they had their fill. ‘All good? Great! There was just one more thing…’ He waited to ensure he’d kept their attention before leaning in, voice low. ‘… So. Here’s what’s going to happen; you’re all going to leave them alone now. You’re not going to meet them; you’re not going to talk to them. At all. They don’t need you anymore. They’ve got me now. If I find out- and believe me, I will find out- that you’ve been talking to them… I’m going to find your family, and hurt them. Then I’m going to find you, and hurt you. I don’t want to do it, believe me, I’m a reasonable guy. But if you try my patience, you’ll find out just how strong I really am. Do we have an understanding?’ His masked face searched the crowd of horrified expressions that stared back at him. ‘I’m gonna take your stunned silence as a yes. Remember; I’ll know. Have a good night now.’ He was off once again, swinging through the streets. He could have run, he was easily faster than you, he was probably faster than most of the cars on the street if he pushed himself hard enough. He landed beside you, soft as a shadow, watching you nearly recoil straight into a wall, but his arm was around your waist, stabilizing you and softly guiding you closer against his body. ‘Let me walk you home, hmm? These are dangerous streets, better to have someone by your side. Even better… You…’ One finger playfully tapped your nose, drawing an amused giggle from you, you watched his mask’s expression crease up, like he was smiling beneath. ‘… You’re lucky. You get to have a Superhero by your side.’ The strong arm across your waist softly squeezed, pulling you closer against his broad body.

The night remained still and calm, you were more than happy in Spider-man’s embrace. It was comforting, almost familiar. Perhaps if you had been sober, you would have noticed the familiar warmth, or the equally familiar scent of cologne that clung to him. As it was, you were more than happy to lean into his broad body, walking down the silent streets like lovers. It brought to mind the memories of happier times; when you and Miguel had been first in love, before his work had taken over his life- even back then he had spoiled you, walking you home from nights out with friends, leaving you wrapped against the chill of night in a coat that was far too big for you. ‘Mm…. You remind me of my husband… He’s warm… ‘n now he’s big and strong, too….’ At your words, Spider-man chuckled softly. ‘Heh, I think you’re too drunk and tired to be out walking around like this. You look like you’re about to fall asleep, want me to carry you…?’ He didn’t wait for an answer, only chuckling at your surprised squeal as he crouched and effortlessly picked you up in his arms, cradling you close against his chest. ‘… Te amo, mi vida…’ His words were a soft whisper, masked face nuzzling against your forehead and you managed to push his head away with a whine of half-hearted effort. ‘No, no kisses... No, I’m married, I’ve got a husband… ‘M not cheatin’ on him…’ He laughed harder, huge form shaking with it before he calmed himself, striding down the street with you in his arms. ‘… No… You really aren’t…’

Your memories of last night were hazy; you had the vaguest recollection of being laid down into the familiar softness of your bed, then soon after, Miguel was there beside you, lavishing you with kisses and warm hugs, and that was how you had found sleep. It was also how you had found yourself the next morning. ‘Mm… Morning, Miggy…’ ‘Good morning, mi amor… You sleep like an angel…’ He pulled you closer, flush against his body with a fond hum, nuzzling into your neck to leave soft kisses there. ‘… I think I got carried home by Spider-man last night, Mig… He was very warm and friendly…’ He scoffed, pulling back to give you a grin. ‘Spider-man? No, no… You don’t remember? Mi vida, I brought you home last night. But, sure, if you want to think I’m a Superhero, I’m not going to complain… Now, did you want breakfast, or did you want to just stay in bed with me, for a while longer? I don’t mind, either way… I have everything I need right here in my arms….’ His eyes glinted with mirth, and something more intense, his smile was gentle and loving. You had a wonderful husband.

It was three days later, halfway through dinner, where Miguel had threatened to throw you outside for your pronunciation of “tortilla”. As soon as it had left your lips, he had frozen like a statue, then he slowly looked up, eyes meeting your own and he swallowed his food. ‘What did... you just say? Ay, dios mio- What the shock just left your mouth?’ ‘Tortillas?’ You spoke again, watching one of his eyelids twitch briefly. ‘… My love. If I ever hear that abomination “to-till-uh” escape your lips again, you’re going to be locked out of the house. Tortilla.’ ‘Tortilla.’ You repeated, following his pronunciation and seeing him nod gratefully and returning to his food. It was only a moment before he glanced up at you, tongue running over his lips. ‘You know… Now I’m pretty wound up from that. Tonight, I might have to teach you the error of your ways, mm?’ You couldn’t fight the smirk that was growing on your features and met his gaze. ‘That so, Miggy? What are you going to teach me…? Something fun? Do you think it might hurt?’ ‘Only if you want it to…’ Miguel purred with a wink. Almost simultaneously, the doorbell rang, as Miguel’s watch began to buzz. ‘Who the hell is calling at this hour…?’ You rose up from your seat, watching Miguel’s gaze stay firmly on whatever he was reading. Apparently, he wasn’t going to answer the door. So, the issue of the late night caller fell to you as the doorbell buzzed again. Out in the hall, you heard Miguel’s chair creak, almost clattering to the floor as if he were rising in a panic.

‘Alright! Alright!’ You answered as the doorbell was joined by a frantic knocking. Unlocking the door, you pulled back the bolts and chains before pulling the door open. Your eyes went wide at the sight of the trembling figure on the other side; shivering in dirty clothes, with healed cuts and a faint black eye, with messy, wild hair and a desperate look of relief. You caught your husband as he all but stumbled over the threshold, feeling him sink to his knees in your arms and drag you down with him. ‘…. Oh… Oh, mi amor… Mi vida….’ ‘M-Miguel?!’ Compassion and confusion were twin serpents in your chest, tugging you one way and another. ‘B-but…! M-Miguel! What happened?!’ ‘I was… He took everything… I’m so sorry, my love…’ He was exhausted, his voice was faint and tiny. He looked weary, wounded, and starving, and clung to you like his life depended on it. The little whimper that escaped him was heart-breaking as you pulled away and you ran through the house, sliding on the carpet as you stopped by the dinner table, two plates abandoned half-eaten, one chair upended, and the back door ajar. You hurried outside, peering into the darkness, spinning on the spot and dreading that you had gone utterly mad. How could you have been eating dinner with the man who was now on your doorstep?! If the light had been better, you might have noticed the clawmarks in the stone of the exterior, or the red eyed figure who watched you from the roof; teeth gritted, fangs and claws bared, and murder already burning in his heart. He watched you hurry back inside, locking the door behind you, ready to attend to your husband. ‘Apparently a warning wasn’t good enough for that hijo de puta, Lyla…’

[numbbface]

A whole lotta Creek...

(just as the title suggests... its an art dump/repost of my stuff from twt with more words lol) 🤷

i know this isn't that much of a creek art but our man Craig is there so it counts... 🙈

Also Baker Tweek!!!☝️☝️☝️

Just drew this bceause i just really wanted to go to the beach and there was a power outtage and had nothing else to do...

also i guess this was also a bit of a supposed idea or scene for my Creek Karaoke AU but decided to just separate it midway.

this one has long been my idea to draw... i just keep forgetting to get to it and now i've already did it.

So this one is definitely part of the Creek Karaoke AU since the name of the Baked Goods are their pet names for each other or at least what Craig came up with and calls Tweek fer time to time.

Yes, i headcanon Craig as a Big Eater, or at least someone who's not very picky with food, thought it would be cute since in my AU, Tweek likes to cook and bake and his taste tester is Craig who either ends up Happy for being able to eat really good food or a round trip to the toilet.🤷

Also as much as Tweek likes to bake or make sweets he's not very fond of'm but Craig on the other hand🧍...

thought i'd add a side by side of the sketch and the finished one...

was originally going to do all this one MsPaint but idk... changed my mind halfway. Not much thoughts on this one, just fluff :3

oooh golly been meaning to draw them in this style for a really long time😭😭😭

just been having a hard time replicating or at least adjusting their features to the art style that it honestly doesn't even look like the one i was aiming for, all you need to know that this art style came from a pretty old BL manga. Art is really good, Story... not so good, no happy ending😔

genuinely just thought of drawing them more anime or manga shounen-ai style without it looking like parody or come off as ironic

lmao this was just for funsies and i was so pissed and tired that day that i just wanted to draw something to take me out of it. Inspo idea for this one was from those one Shoujo manga's of Good Girl x Delinquent/Bad boy/indifferent guy troupes

damn.. its been so long since i've actually read manga or watched anime lmao🧍

[bookcluberror]

I'm obsessing more than I should be over the whole "Kacchan" thing.

Deku's name for Bakugou has always reminded me of how my bff and I had sweet little child-like nicknames for each other in college. We were the Day One, ride or die, overflowing sexual tension that neither of us would ever acknowledge even though everyone else around us had to shoo it away with giant hand fans, type of bffs. We were the only ones who called each other those names. To this day I go jelly in the knees if I hear either of them, even though he and I parted ways a lifetime ago.

Guys. If he had ever introduced himself to someone by that nickname while we were hanging out, let alone someone important, I would have fucking died. Even if he had just referred to himself using that name, instead of it coming from my own mouth. I would have dropped to my knees, or ran and jumped into his arms, or simply erupted into flames ala spontaneous human combustion.

The fact that Katsuki said that... I can't even find the right words. I love all of the bkdk stuff that's come out the last few weeks. So much of it is heavily HEAVILY lined in sexual tension, and is giving bkdk shippers (which I do not consider myself one of... or at least maybe not until like a day ago) a lot to go on. ...But even with all of that development, there was still a voice in the back of my head saying "nah, we're just hoping. This is probably just symbolism and timeline parallels. Showing off deep friendship bullshit. Making the climax more intense and intimate with these personal connections. Blah blah blah" but this one hits differently for me because of how I relate that name to my own personal relationships.

Now it's become... I don't even know. Like, a confirmation not just of their love, but for the unspoken love I once shared with someone as well. Bakugo and Midoriya aren't just a fandom ship for me anymore. Their relationship is *so different* from my own friendship that I described above, but the fact that I still see myself and that personal bond reflected in Bakugo's "Kacchan" declaration... Someone needs to help me put this feeling into words, because I'm at a loss.

It hurts. It aches and throbs and feels like someone stuck a knife in my chest, reminding me of what I lost so long ago.

And it's beautiful, glowing radiant, and feels amazing, like someone has lifted my heart into the sky with cheers and fireworks and *overwhelming* love, from what could be!

And it feels fresh, brand new, yet tragically old and worn. It's warm and comforting, but cold and devastating at the same time.

Why? Why is this? What is it doing to me?? It's filling my mind with fear that this fictional relationship may also never reach its way to the summit of its potential. That I'll lose it, however fictional it may be, just like we've all lost someone before. A few days ago, I would have been bummed but not surprised if the series used all these moments to reflect on, and showcase, strong lifelong friendships built on growth and tragedy... But now it feels different. Like my own heart break (knowing that there is absolutely no way a very popular and mainstream Japanese manga will actually showcase and confirm a homosexual main character couple) is impending.

I don't know how to end this post, because I honestly don't know what I'm trying to say with it in the first place. I guess just that I'm confused. I'm happy, and I'm hurting, and I love this moment so much. It means everything to me, and will no doubt destroy what little grasp I still have on my sanity.

[alkhale]

If it is not too much....can we have more decade swap please mommy alk? 🥺🥺🥺

Miss Memos so much 🙏🙏🙏

I HAVENT BEEN CALLED MOMMY YET BUT I HOPE THIS HELPS DURING THE WAIT

Shanks is somewhere in his twenties

Every now and then between the Blues and across the seemingly endless expanse of the Grand Line, an island appears.

It was never a designated island in particular. Whatever island could manage to make such a name of itself and manage to keep its reputation would eventually spread word, and sure enough, people would flock to its shores. Some islands that attempted to boast this specific purpose found themselves either failing to uphold true neutrality or ended scorched and sunk from a series of skirmishes with the marines.

A neutral island, people would call it. A meeting point. Pirates of all walks and Blues and statuses would gather here, and people who wished to do business with such pirates would navigate their waters.

A neutral island, on paper. A pirate playground, by word of mouth.

It was this very island get-away in particular that young, not quite young to most, but perhaps still young in the old eyes of the world—"Red Haired" Shanks found himself docked alongside his now notorious crew.

The bar thrummed with life. People and pirates flooded the inside like an overflowing mug of grog, beginning to spill out over the top. Music filled the air, leaving not a space for silence or stillness. Snarled curses flew across tables, slurred stories between bowed heads, and sweet words coaxed from wet lips against willing ears.

Shanks let all of it envelop him. He let it wrap thickly like a sheet. A wide, playful grin stayed perpetually stretched over his lips and he laughed with banter, jeered when jostled, and whispered huskily when spoken sweetly to.

His now infamous captain was always a man who enjoyed having fun above all else, so he'd seen it perfectly fit to dock their ship amidst the hub of pirates seeking their fill of freedom, fun or pure debauchery.

(Shanks was somewhere between the first two, but those who wanted to share his bed might speak differently.)

He sat now as proof up against the bar top. Two beautiful women hugged the seats on either side, a half-full bottle of wine—something more bitter in taste, harder and expensive—sat waiting to be grabbed by one of the beautiful hands to be poured into his mug. He'd meant to stay with the grog, since grog he could drink like water before he barely felt a buzz in his fingertips.

Wine came with the intention of something more, and he was still trying to decide whether or not to indulge in that sort of offer presented to him.

Shanks was older now. A roguishly handsome man with the kind of bounty on his head to turn multiple heads. Enough to make an ambitious marine drool and a seasoned vice admiral scowl. Amongst other crews, he was a powerful man, one of many on his ship, but one of the strongest, and that drew eyes.

Hateful eyes, envious eyes, admirable eyes—

Lustful eyes.

Women who'd spent the night, the evening, or morning with him would often describe him as such:

"His shoulders are big," they'd say. "Broad. You could rake your nails down them and feel endless."

"He's handsome," they'd swoon. "Dashing, a true criminal that one. That sculpted, clean jaw, those playful eyes..."

"His biceps are like corded ropes," they'd grin. "He could lift you with one, keep the other free to—"

"He's sinfully strong," they'd sigh. "Hold you like you were nothing, keep you seated right on his—"

"His words are sweet," some would murmur, looking a bit lost. "But he isn't truthful. He doesn't lie, that one. But his lips and his kisses... Hmm, I guess I'm a bit jealous, that's all."

There'd been a period once where Shanks had never been too particularly indulgent, to be truthful. It'd happened without him realizing it. Shanks could flirt and flirt and talk sweet, and then the moment lips would whisper in his ear and eyes would shift to a closed door—he'd laugh, something sweeter, and then he'd be off.

It was Buggy who'd called him out on it. Sore, when another beautiful woman had been left wanting and Shanks was looking like a dazed idiot, staring out across the sea.

"It's because you're still obsessed," Buggy had accused. Shanks had look at him, affronted. "You're all talk, Red Hair. Since you last saw them at the end of that crazy fight, you've become the worst you've ever been!"

"What fight?"

"The one that nearly tore the ocean apart! That was the last you saw of them in the past year and it's haunted you since!"

"Who?" Shanks said dumbly, still staring out across the ocean.

"You know who, you buffoon!" Buggy shouted. "I knew—I knew nothing good would ever come of this since you first made googly eyes at one of the most dangerous women you could ever even look at—"

"Dangerous," Shanks played with the word on his tongue. "She is, isn't she?"

Shanks knew exactly what memory Buggy was speaking of. It was seared, branded into the back of his mind.

(That beautiful woman. Her eyes. Her blood. Her blade.)

Many images of that day, in fact, remained with him still. Some more beautiful than others, and one lingering sharply, bitter—

(A moss haired swordsman cutting through the carnage, like cleaving waves, to stand at her side. His arm curling over her hip, pulling her to him when the dust settled, his lips hidden in her hair as he said something to her ear. Her eyes, finally relaxing, drooping with fatigue. A trust to be able to show such vulnerability. How he practically carried her, leaning her body against his—)

"See!" Buggy shrilled. "Listen, Shanks. You can dream all you want, I have plenty of fun fantasies myself. But you know why I'm never afraid for me?"

"Why?" Shanks sighed. Buggy jutted a finger against his chest and Shanks leaned back a bit in surprise, caught off guard by the truth in Buggy's next words.

"That's because you're a man who wants. And a man who wants never just settles for dreams."

"Buggy, have you eaten something bad?"

"You're the one who's eaten something rotten, idiot!" Buggy screeched, nearly throttling his crewmate. "Forget it, you're hopeless!"

To be fair, Shanks had tried what Buggy suggested. Buggy was convinced he just needed to get it out of his system. He'd even somewhat convinced himself the same. Maybe the wanting was just... carnal. Maybe he was creating a vision of something for himself, a dream to obtain, and it wasn't fair to do to her. No, never to a woman like that.

So Shanks had played the game, and he'd played it well. He had his fun. He went to bed with pleasure. His true heart belonged to the sea anywho, to his crew, to what laid in store for them at the end of it all.

(There was just nothing he could do, you know, about certain nights. About wisps of images in the corner of his eye. Of long, elusive strands of silver white and eyes like gold beneath the waves.)

The woman on his right was a local, one of the barmaids who was trying her luck. One beautifully manicured hand kept a possessive grip over the sculpted slope of his forearm, her thumb rubbing circles into the side of his arm the other woman couldn't see. The woman on his left ought to be some pirate for a crew he wasn't familiar with, but she drew his attention from time to time with stories of her exploits on the sea.

Stories.

"What kind of story will you tell, brat?"

Laughter filled the air. Someone shouted something behind him and the music resumed, flooding the space. Shanks laughed at something the woman on his right said. He spared a glance over the top of his mug to the back of the bar. Two wide double doors opened up to a sort of back patio, where the cool salty breeze filtered in. He could see pillars outside holding the establishment up, wound tightly with thickened vines heavy with some kind of flower.

"I'm sorry ladies," Shanks said smoothly, standing up from the bar. The women looked up, startled, but Shanks offered them a charming smile, easy and placating. "I just need to step outside for a moment... you won't miss me too much, will you?"

"Maybe a bit."

"Not at all."

They looked at each other with a scowl and Shanks grinned, smoothly slipping his way through the thundering crowd and finally slipping outside.

The breeze kissed his cheeks. Shanks let out a soft, easy groan as he stretched his arms over his head and let his feet carry him out of the shadow of the bar. Perhaps he'd stroll through town, get something to eat. Maybe find Buggy and bother him.

There was a whisper in the air, like a sigh.

Shanks felt something curl, like a finger ghosting up his spine. He stopped dead in his tracks.

"Brat," she murmured, almost amused. "Going for a little walk?"

Shanks turned sharply on his heel, so sharp he almost stumbled. The breeze billowed the open chested white shirt around his arms. It tousled his hair, pulling it free from his gaze so he could see with utter clarity.

The divine sight laid out before him.

Long stems of blooming white flowers wound up the pillars outside the bar, holding up the balcony alcove hidden amidst the second floor she must've stowed away for herself. They interlocked in heavy blooms, a shade too white to match her hair. She leaned up against the railing of the balcony, lounged on her side like a goddess, one finger lightly brushing against a flower as she gazed quietly down at him.

What few patrons might have known of her presence must have thought it wiser not to comment on the fact that she'd been there, leaving the infamous woman to her devices.

Shanks felt his pulse begin to thrum at his fingertips. His feet carried him before he'd thought anything else. A slow, curling grin pulled wide over his mouth. He felt that familiar trill, a lulling pulse of energy in the air, a thought that perhaps—

(This world was amazing.)

His eyes shone brightly, pools of sunlight.

She narrowed her eyes in almost suspicious amusement at the sight.

"Dove," Shanks said, because he'd never promised to be one for subtly. "It's been an eternity."

"Eternity?" she tilted her head to the side, a swooping wave of silver white following over the bare curve of her shoulder. Shanks felt his pulse quicken. "It can't have been that long."

"I didn't even hear a whisper of you being here," Shanks said, stepping closer to the pillar so he could look directly up at her and she gazed down at him. "if I'd known, I would've never left your company."

"We arrived only just tonight," she said loosely. Shanks saw now she was nursing a pretty colored bottle and he licked his lips. "Had a bit of free time on my hands."

Shanks' hand laid itself along the pillar. He tugged on the vines, testing their strength. "A beautiful woman like you," he began, as though he were witnessing the worst crime committed in this world, "all by her lonesome?"

She huffed a sort of laugh. "Mmm, I'm never alone, boy."

He was far from being a boy, but Shanks continued to grin, slow and easy, eyes bright with mirth. "Is there room on that balcony for two?"

Hoku the Immortal shut her eyes for a moment in contemplation. She tilted her head, as though listening for something.

"I suppose it depends," she said finally. Those piercing eyes watched him languidly. "I don't want to invite something more than I can handle."

Her expression became one of startled amusement as Shanks' hands quickly dug into the vines, his body scaling up the pillar with frightening haste.

She laughed, the sound lighting like fireworks in his ears as he snapped with one hand long stems along the way, crushing them between his fingers until Shanks quickly hauled himself over the top of the balcony railing. He looked up, almost frazzled, once smoothened hair now askew as he caught his breath and grinned widely at her, eyes shining.

His breath staggered in his throat. From below had been but a taste—now he could see her clearly, vividly.

In a rare sight she'd discarded the large cloak she'd always kept with her. Perhaps because of the warmer temperatures of this summer island. Shanks could see the bare slope of her shoulders, the teasing dip of her collarbone hidden by her thin white top. The warm tan of her skin under the dappled moonlight, her curves, the long stretch of her legs over the bench—

She didn't wear her usual sturdy pants tonight. Loose billowy black shorts down to her knees took their place—perhaps a pleading change from one of her more fashion savy crewmates, maybe they were going for more of a vacation look, Shanks thought in the back of is head.

Hoku had one leg crossed over the other knee, foot swaying in the air. The knicked and scarred skin of her thighs appeared before him. He'd never known before she had a tattoo there on her left one—a design hidden still to his eyes, he couldn't quite make it out.

He thanked vehemently whoever's idea it was.

Shanks swallowed with a breathless grin.

Hoku raised a brow and Shanks leaned over the top of the railing, holding out the slightly bent flowers to her as an offering.

"Dove," Shanks said sweetly, "It's a dream to see you again."

Hoku snorted, shaking her head with a somewhat exasperated chuckle. Still the older woman gently took the flowers from his grip, her fingers brushing fleetingly against his and Shanks almost curved his own to try to hook them against his hand.

Hoku pulled away with ease, lightly stroking the bent petals and gently beginning to weave the stems together absently. "I hear you've been making quite the name for yourself these days."

"You listen for word of me?" Shanks said.

"Only if it manages to reach my ears," Hoku said lazily. Shanks pouted. She wove another two flowers together.

Shanks dared to take a seat on the space beside her legs. She shifted them only slightly, not quite accomodating him, but she didn't usher him away either. He didn't know if he ought to feel wounded, the way she seemed to consider him a lighthearted presence than a threat, as though he were just another cat who'd decided to take a seat here.

But if such thoughts allowed him to be here, this near—

Shanks would take what he could get.

"What brings the King of Pirates and his crew to this fine little island?" Shanks asked easily, one finger tracing the wooden pattern etched into the bench.

"A meeting with some old friends," Hoku said absently, fingers still moving along the flower stems, but her eyes flickered back over to the view from their balcony. "I assume you've come to play?"

"To pray, actually," Shanks said. Hoku raised a brow, looking at him. Shanks grinned. "To whatever god I must for a chance to see you again."

Hoku set the woven flowers down in her lap. She shifted slightly, looking at Shanks with a narrowed hint of amusement.

"You're always talking sweet," Hoku sighed. "I suppose this is a trait men like you must bear the burden of carrying."

"Men like me?" Shanks said, sounding wounded. "Dear dove, you think I'm not earnest in my pursuit?"

"Pursuit?" Hoku echoed, raising a curious brow. "Of what?"

"Of one of the most beautiful women I've ever laid eyes on," Shanks said, eyes half lidded now, almost dreamy as he looked. "Of one of the greatest treasures the ocean's ever offered."

Hoku laughed. Shanks could grow drunk off the sound alone. "Brat... I still think you're biting off more than you can chew. One of these days you'll talk sweet to a woman like this and find out she might give you more than you can handle."

"I don't talk to other women like this," Shanks said lightly, softer. Hoku's gaze turned at his drop in tone and she watched him curiously, almost warily as he simply watched her in turn, never taking his gaze off of her. "I stumble in the shallows only for you, dove."

(Shanks treated any respectful woman in his company with grace.)

But he'd started to think as of late, perhaps without realizing it, that there was only one woman he'd like to worship.

"You've dug yourself a grave, Shanks," he thought he could hear Buggy curse in his ear. "A watery grave."

Hoku hummed, shaking her head at him. She leaned back, making herself comfortable amidst a few cushions as her fingers resumed their work.

Shanks could feel the heat from the skin of her ankle at his fingertips. They itched now to trace lightly up her leg, smooth his hand along her skin.

"Dove," Shanks said. "Will you tell me a story?"

Hoku raised a curious brow now. Shanks felt his grin widen over his lips, just shy of cheeky. Time had passed, after all, and Shanks would be a fool to not have learned.

(How do you entertain someone who's seen all this world has to offer?)

You don't.

"You want to hear one of my stories?" Hoku humored him. "Or one of my crew's?"

"Whichever makes you the happiest to tell."

Hoku's fingers paused briefly. She weighed Shanks' words and glanced again out toward the island's dark horizon. He sensed it since he scrambled up this balcony that something strange seemed to be weighing on this beautiful woman's mind, but he wasn't quite sure what.

Hoku reached out and grabbed the bottle sitting beside her. She offered it to Shanks who took it quickly and smoothly with grateful hands, a boyish sort of excitement curling in his gut now.

"I was never one for charity," Hoku said slowly. Her fingers tied off the stems together. "Tell me a good tale and I will share one of mine in return."

Shanks straightened to attention, bringing the top of the bottle to his lips. "One of mine?"

"Doesn't have to be one of yours," Hoku said, reclining back against the cushions. Shanks thought in his mind's eye she appeared like the very image of a goddess ready for worship, waiting to be amused. "Any good story."

Shanks took a long sip of her drink. He let out a small groan at the taste, unexpectedly sweet and smooth, almost crisp. Hoku huffed a laugh of amusement.

"It's delicious," Shanks said earnestly.

Pride flickered shamelessly across her face. She looked pleased at his words, leaning back and gazing again over the balcony. "A special blend from my hometown. One of my favorites, if I'm in the mood."

The sweet burn of it left a trail down his throat, all the way to the curling edge of his stomach. His fingertips.

"I have a love story then," Shanks said, low and husky. "The Sailor and the Gold Mermaid."

Hoku raised a brow, leaning her cheek against her palm. She closed her eyes, waiting. Shanks took a moment to admire her visage, the smooth shape of her eyes, shut to the world. The silver gray of her lashes. The slope of that deep red tattoo curved like a heart above her eye.

"Once there was a sailor who fell in love with a mermaid," Shanks began, bringing forth his best voice—the kind his captain loved when they were weaving tales by the fire. The kind that brought his crew to his side, listening with grins. "She was a beautiful mermaid, with the most beautiful voice he had ever heard with scales made of gold. Hair that shimmered beneath the waves."

Shanks took another swig of Hoku's drink, savoring the sweet taste. He leaned lightly against her leg, keeping his hands locked politely around the bottle should they betray him.

"Every day the sailor thought of how he could woe the mermaid. Each sunset she would come, sitting by the rocks to watch him and he would attempt something new. Flowers. Gifts. Songs. Each day she would see what he brought and disappear back into the water," Shanks pouted. "The sailor was heartbroken."

Hoku's lips curved into a faint grin at his exaggerated tone. Shanks leaned forward, as though sharing a secret. "Until one day the sailor had an idea. All of his friends had warned him against it, saying it wouldn't end well—but still he persisted."

The breeze tousled their hair. Shanks watched it carry hers lightly, teasingly.

"The sailor got on his knees with a bucket of water and he began to mold the sand. The mermaid was curious, wondering what he was up to this time, so she stayed upon her rock, watching him work," Shanks mimicked the motion with his hands even though Hoku kept her eyes closed, listening in silence. "It became clear to her with a gasp that he was forming a mold of her! Out of the sand he worked tirelessly, and curious, she watched, waiting to see his finished product."

Shanks noticed Hoku's foot stop swinging atop her knee. She adjusted her legs instead, pressing her knees toward the balcony railing. Like this, however, her leg pressed into his side. Shanks could feel it with every breath.

"Finally the sailor stood, turning to where he heard the mermaid gasp and he said, 'My love, this I offer to you, a testament to your beauty!'"

Shanks threw his arms out wide. His elbow settled over the top of Hoku's knee. She waited, listening intently to his story.

"The mermaid let out a louder gasp," Shanks began, raising his voice several pitches to mimic the mermaid's—"How can that be me? I look hideous!"

Hoku's eyes blinked open, flickering over to him in curiosity. Shanks' grin became breathless. He changed his tone, resuming the role of the sailor:

"This is the best that I could do to be true to your beauty!" the sailor said sadly. "Is this not in your likeness?"

"Look at it!" the mermaid cried. She dragged herself closer to him, pointing in a fury. "These lumps, that shape, this doesn't look anything like me!"

"Forgive me, my love," the sailor almost wept. "For I am blind!"

Hoku coughed in surprise, turning to Shanks with something like a laugh on her lips. Shanks laughed, heartily and full of mirth. He clasped Hoku's knee, shoulders shaking with laughter.

"The mermaid was stunned," Shanks swept on. "She asked the sailor how he possibly could have fallen in love with her when he had no idea how she looked. The sailor looked sheepish now and told her it had been her voice which won his heart."

Hoku hummed in amusement, seemingly pleased with the turn of events. She shut her eyes again, as though she were imagining the story in her head. Shanks set Hoku's drink down, carefully leaning forward.

"The mermaid brought herself closer to the man, reaching for his hand." Hoku paused as Shanks lightly wrapped his fingers around her wrist, loose, polite, and she did not draw away as he brought her hand then to his chest. "She brought his hand to her and said, 'Feel then, the shape of me.'"

Hoku kept her eyes closed, face relaxed, almost lazy. Shanks brought her palm against his bare chest, letting it rest there. He moved the other hand which had been resting on her knee, moving his fingers along the length of her leg, down to her ankles, lightly tracing his fingertips over her toes.

"Feel my scales," she said.

Shanks lifted Hoku's leg with both his hands now, light, caressing. Her brows furrowed slightly. Her skin twitched underneath his touch.

"Trace the shape of my body," she murmured.

Shanks' lips brushed almost slightly against the inside of her calf, his breath ghosting warm against her. Hoku's eyes opened now, sharp with wariness as she made to draw away.

Beneath her fingertips she could feel then—the fluttering of his heart like a bird. The nervous, loud staccato beneath her fingers. Hoku looked at her hand and then to Shanks, freezing briefly.

(Under the heat of that gaze.)

"'Now,'" Shanks whispered against the inside of her leg, "'try again.'"

Shanks' lips made to kiss the inside of her knee, eyes half-lidded, almost drunk of the presence of her, of the thrill of this moment, of the whirling, pulsing nerves and the rushing waves in his head—

Hoku's hand was replaced with her foot, her leg jerked swiftly free of Shanks' longing grip. He paused, halted now with her foot pressed solidly against his chest. Hoku kept him at bay, watching him with a cool gaze, leaving him unable to dive into their depths.

Shanks pursued no further, instead offering her his most charming grin.

"Brats like you," Hoku said slowly, "are dangerous."

Shanks' gaze lowered playfully at her.

"But brats like me," Shanks said sweetly, "are nothing Hoku the Immortal should fear, no?"

Hoku's eyes narrowed at him, lacking malice but in warning. The way a stray cat would look if you ventured too close for its comfort. Shanks still heard his pulse thundering in his ears.

"That story reminded me of one I'm very fond of," Hoku began airily, "so I won't throw you off this balcony, whelp."

Shanks continued to smile at her, his most charming yet, and Hoku simply regarded him for a moment.

Hoku looked a little fond then, somewhat exasperated as she looked at him.

"You aren't a bad story teller at all, Apple Haired Shanks."

Before Shanks could utter another word in response, Hoku disappeared with a simple flicker before him. Shanks blinked, once, twice, stunned into silence as a large boulder promptly took her place, slamming down into the bench and nearly crushing his outstretched hand.

Shanks jumped to his feet, whirling around and rushing up to the balcony railing.

Hoku appeared in the distance at the beginning of the town's pathway. She hovered in the air for a moment and Shanks noticed now the entire film of translucent blue that seemed to surround all of them. A firm hand reached out, taking hers and that film of blue disappeared as her feet touched the ground, lowered by that hand.

Shanks' jaw went slack in disbelief, slumping somewhat against the balcony as Hoku's figure in the distance simply raised a hand to him, waving once before she disappeared in the hulking shadow of her companion.

"Damn," Shanks murmured, leaning his cheek against his palm. "What a woman."

His gaze strayed to the side and he paused, reaching out with his hand. Shanks brought the flower crown up to his gaze, inspecting the careful way it'd been woven before he set it on the top of his head, sighing once more.

"Next time, Shanks, you'll get 'em next time."

. . . . . . . . .

"You could've just called me," Hoku said, looking a bit amused as she looked up at her companion.

"Seemed like I was interrupting something," Law said slowly, eyes half lidded as he regarded her coolly. "That's a dangerous brat to be entertaining."

"He's a hard urchin to shake off," Hoku sighed in exasperation, but she grinned a bit then. "Not a bad story teller though, I'll give him that."

Law scoffed, pulling his hand from hers. He stood tall beside her, shoulders broad and expression dark as always as his black feathered cloak fell about the both of them.

"Besides, you know me," Hoku grinned, nudging Law's side. Her eyes brightened when she noticed her sandals loose between his fingers against his side. She reached for them. “I prefer my paramours to be older. People aged a bit beyond their years, fine like—"

Law's hand hooked around the side of her waist, pulling her flush to him as he stooped low enough to say into her ear, low like a warning—

"You're forgetting who's the older one between the two of us."

Law waited for a moment, eyes watching Hoku, lowered and dark. His longer fingers curled fully over her hip.

Hoku promptly turned to Law with a sigh, looking up at him in clearly fond exasperation.

"Oh, Traffy, how will I ever explain it to you..."

"Your captain's finally ready to listen to the plan," Law said flatly. He dropped her sandals for her and Hoku grinned, sliding up close to his side to slip them on despite his scowl. "There won't be time to entertain rookies after this."

Hoku hooked her arm through his with a hum. Law continued to scowl but he didn't push her away.

"Time for the tide to change, huh?" Hoku murmured, leaning her head against Law's side.

Law's cloak enshrouded the both of them as they disappeared along a pathway, heading to the shore where the people she would sail to the end of her days awaited her.

[bundrops-n-fluffytops]

Screw it

Welcome Home Age Regression HCs

Wally 🍎

Usually from 1-3, can regress older

Can be voluntary or involuntary

Can be a bit of a brat sometimes? Especially if you seem to break his routine, that makes him pretty upset

Otherwise he’s just a super sweet baby

Autistic age regression let’s gooooo

He’s always seen with his childhood blankie, you can’t pull them apart

Like seriously

Don’t even attempt to break them apart, he’ll just throw a fit and start crying

He also LOVES apple slices and apples in general, it’s his same food

The best kinda baby for a playdate!! He’ll play house with ya, princess dressup, he’ll read books with you, he’s just a playful lil guy

Pretty much anyone can be his cg, but they’re usually either Barnaby, Julie, Howdy, or Poppy

He called Barnaby “pubby” once and it drove the dog to tears, he can never recover

I also hc him to be a cat regressor? He’s got those eyes and likes to bat things off of counters and stays up to ungodly hours

Lil weird ass meow meow

Barnaby 🐾

Primarily a pet regressor, it’s way too easy to figure out

Unusually easy to slip as well

Wally starts playing with him and he’s just immediately into puppyspace

Was kinda scared of people finding out bc he thought they would be confused, but they’re super supportive!!

Frank: “It was obvious, you’re a dog of all things.”

His favorite toy to chew on is either Wally’s slippers or his stuffed mouse

When he’s not in puppy regression, he can also (rarely) age regress to 5-10 yrs

The best big brother!!

If Wally and Barnaby regress together, he’s usually the one taking the reins and playing the “parent”

Occasionally he’ll snap out of regression if someone else is regressing while he is, just so he can help take care of them

He’s got older brother cg vibes, I swear

Julie 🌸

Surprisingly quiet when it comes to regression, but does it religiously

Usually down to toddler age, around 2-5 yrs

Has a MOUNTAIN of plushies, she practically sleeps in a big pile of them

There’s at least 7 separate hello kitty ones

She’s a big fan of cats in general, she’ll pretend that she has a pet kitty and use one of her plushies

Their name is Violet Twinkletoes :>>

Loves to do lil playdates with Frank and Wally, regressed or not

Tea parties ALL the time, it’s required

Loves to play big sister when others are regressed

Similarly to Barnaby, she’ll break out of regression if she notices others starting to go small, just so she can take care of them

She loves giving and getting lullabies

Pretty hard to get to sleep, she’ll probably just start jumping up and down on her bed before she tires herself out

Sally ☀️

Terrible twos, 2-4 yrs old

Princess regressor to a capital T

Super bossy, loud, loves to wear pretty dresses, just an all-around theater baby

Loves watching musical recordings, her favorite is Cats

“TOUUUUUCH MEEEEEE ITS SO EEEEAAAASSSY TO LEEEEEAVE MEEEEEEEEEEE”

Surprisingly easy to get to bed, she knows she needs the energy tomorrow for games so she just clocks out

Just don’t take away her tv, she can’t live without it

Her favorite show would definitely be My Little Pony, she loves the colors and the characters and how pretty everything is

She has a bunch of My Little Pony figurines in her drawers and on the floor

Very messy toddler too, but she’s willing to clean up when she needs to

It takes her a bit to notice if someone is feeling bad, but when she does she’s their BIGGEST support

Frank 🦋

The smartest baby, but also the grumpiest

Only regresses to deal with stress and anxiety, rarely regresses out of happiness

0-2 yrs, he’s so darn tiny!!

He loves being held, it’s usually his first request when he goes small

He also LIVES for bedtime stories, he always asks for one before bed

Sometimes he’ll sit on your lap and just start spouting facts about insects and butterflies, all with a slight lisp and everything

Knows a bunch of big boy words, but has trouble pronouncing it so he needs your help

Eddie it’s obv his main cg, but he’s also got Julie, Howdy, and Poppy

And Barnaby if he’s tiny enough

Doesn’t have many plushies but he does have a stuffed beetle named Skipper, he’s his best friend

Arguably the most talkative out of all the regressors, he’s always chatting

Eddie 💌

The most prominent flip of the neighborhood

He can go from baby to dad in an instant, he’s that quick to go big again

Has a pretty wide range of age when it comes to regressing, but usually stays in 1-4 yrs

Completely mute when he’s small, he’s either suckin on his paci or his thumb the entire time

Follows his cg like a baby duckling while little, sometimes holding their hand

It’s actually pretty easy to tell when he needs to go small; not talking as much, constantly following someone, probably fumbling with his hands, a lot more shy too

Frank takes care of him ofc, he’s the best dad

Frank would fuss over him a LOT, constantly checking for bruises and stuff, making sure he’s not sick

And he’s just sitting there like 👶

Eddie’s scared of the dark :((

It’s really easy to forget tho; he’ll say just about nothing the whole day, then you tuck him into bed and when you’re leaving you just hear him start crying and being all “hellpppp, don’t goooooo”

He’s stacked with night lights tho

He likes to put a plushy in front of the door, the closet, and underneath his bed so no monsters get him

I like to think that Frank is surprisingly strong for how lanky he is so he can carry is baby husband with little to no struggle

Eddie loves it

Howdy 🐛

Primarily a caregiver!!

Honestly would be such a good dad figure, he’s got four arms to carry four kids!

Would give silly lil nicknames for all the kiddos on the block; buddy, lil man, lil miss, sweetie, pumpkin, etc.

May not be the brightest caregiver but boy is he the sweetest

Would probably accidentally leave one of the kiddos on his back bc he’s got his hands full with the others, so they’re just hanging out behind him

The absolute best at pretend, he’s got stories and character roles all up his sleeves

Frank like to pretend that Howdy is turning into a butterfly, so he pretends he stays in a lil blanket cocoon and then emerges with these plastic butterfly wings on his back

It sends Frank into a frenzy every single time

If someone accidentally goes small at his Bugdega, he’ll drop everything and take them into the nearest bathroom so they can calm down and go small properly

He’ll also sneak a free treat in their pocket if they’re good, only if you’re good

Punishments are hard to give bc he’s pretty easily swayed, so he’ll probably just give you a slap on the wrist and scold you before sending you on your way

He loves his kids and he wants the best for them, he can’t stand to see them upset

Poppy 🐔

This one is the hardest to figure out bc there isn’t much to know about her, but I’ll do my best

TOP TIER MOM OF THE NEIGHBORHOOD

Also a default caregiver like Howdy, they are the ultimate parent duo

Always fussing over her kiddos, she’s got bandaids and Pepto Bismol in every corner of her house

She can be a bit stern when it comes to punishment, but she isn’t downright strict or mean

All she wants is for you to be careful

Her drawers are STACKED with toys, blankets, pacis, outfits, nappys, etc.

She always prepared when something is needed

She is the absolute best baker too; you’ll come to her house and it smells like freshly baked cookies

You can come into her kitchen to find a light snack, she’ll notice and make a whole meal

She’s also a lovely singer, so she’s perfect for lullabies

I like to imagine that if the kids are staying over at her house, they like to cuddle with her bc she’s a big ol bird

She’s got soft feathers!! She can’t help it!!

[soulcandi]

𝐩𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐲 | 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐣𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬

synopsis: on your fifth day at the lennox house, blue jones called you his puppy. and to the amusement of everyone else trapped inside this glittering hellhole, it stuck. it stuck like glue.

warnings: written with afab!reader in mind, fluff, heavy petting, mentions of sex, no explicit smut (yet), pet-play-ish, puppy!girl vibes, mentions of human trafficking (blue literally owns you), mentions of drug use, you smoke a cigarette at some point.

a/n: i actually published this on ao3 like...a long time ago, but i feel bad not posting anything here and also I'm re-watching this movie (sucker punch 2011) and it slaps so hard and i need to pressure you ppl into watching it too. go go go.

word count: 2,932

blue playlist, anyone?

Blue loosened his tie and listened for his office door to click shut behind him. He could feel the black makeup melting underneath his tired eyes that were still swimming from the two whiskies he downed at dinner with his potential client; the very same client he ended up losing by the end of the night. To top off that great show of success,  he also had to fire one of his best men for trying to tamper with one of the dancers. She was new enough not to understand one of the most obvious rules at Lennox:

No one fucks with the merchandise without paying for it.

He would even go as far as to say they might have been a cute couple. If only one of them wasn’t lying in a ditch somewhere off the highway with a hole blasted through their skull.

While Lennox was just a front for his real business —the arms dealing, the coke smuggling, the gambling, all the fun stuff— taking care of his girls was often the most taxing part of Blue’s day. But he was sure that someone else could handle breaking up a few petty girl fights and settling disputes between dancers for a few hours. He was a promised man from now until sunrise. 

He felt the weight of his day slip off of his shoulders as he slinked into the apartment. Being near you always had that effect on him. It was addictive. 

Of all the girls that made up Lennox House, your name came the easiest to him. He nearly gave in when Sweet Pea started calling you Crybaby during your first week. And he had to give it to her, it was a fitting title at the time. But by the third day when you came to terms with your situation and those beautiful wet doe eyes finally dried up, you only ever pointed them at Blue.

You clung to him like he was your lifeline in an ocean of fierce eyeliner and suffocating hairspray fumes. And to make matters worse, he let you. He was the only one who didn’t glare as you walked through the dance studio, but he sure as hell wasn’t smiling either. Unassuming? Maybe. Bored? Absolutely. But bored was the closest thing you’d gotten in the way of kindness since you were booted through the front door. It didn’t occur to you that you should be afraid of the man who not only bought you from your family but who kept you hostage in that dark, lonely place for days on end. 

It didn’t take long for boredom to melt into mild curiosity, which soon took the shape of vivid fascination. His thoughts were consumed by the girl desperately eager to earn her place amongst his best dancers, who didn’t know it but somehow got anything she wanted from the few girls who took pity on her. 

His pride forbade him from immediately giving in to your gentle begging and pleading looks. He wanted to spoil you rotten from the very beginning. You had a natural talent for getting what you wanted and you would have done numbers on his clientele. It was a shame he could never bear to share you with his customers. 

On your fifth day at Lennox, Blue Jones called you his puppy. And to the amusement of everyone else trapped inside this glittering hellhole of a prison, it stuck. Like glue. 

“Puppy?” he called expectantly, a relaxed smile already making its way up to his lips as he loosened his tie an extra inch. The space was everything he could have ever needed —his office, bedroom, and living quarters— all without ever having to leave the building. He’d arranged for CJ to have you delivered there while he finished up his schmoozing, but you weren’t in your usual spot at the foot of the bed when he passed through the entryway.

Blue’s smile instantly tightened into a silent snarl, his eyes flickering around the small, warmly lit room. Evidence of your presence only lingered from the countless nights he had called you there for his own selfish reasons. Your perfume spun through the air in faded ribbons and his eyes fluttered shut as he savored the scent that seemed to follow you everywhere around this dirty place. 

If you weren’t sitting there waiting for him, at least he knew you’d been there recently. There was at least some comfort in the image of you planted on your knees, pouting as you watched the clock mounted on the wall opposite of his desk, watching the minutes tick away into restless hours. 

God, Blue knew he didn’t deserve you. He told himself that every time he came home like this just to sink against your warm, pliant body. He didn’t deserve you. But lord knew he needed you. 

A soft noise drew his attention to the bathroom door, held slightly ajar by a mound of thin fabric that Blue immediately recognized as the costume you’d been wearing in the theater that night. He memorized the look on his potential client’s face when you bounced into the room with a tray of tequila shots balanced carefully in your hands. 

“Close your mouth, hotshot,” he’d wanted to say, but there’s no fun in calling off the dogs before they start wagging their tails. “She’s spoken for.” 

Blue pushed the bathroom door inwards with the back of his knuckle. The hot steam fanned his tired face and he bit back a desperate whine even before he ever saw you hidden there amongst a towering array of bubbles. 

“Who said you could take a bath without me?”

He didn’t mean to startle you, but he certainly wouldn’t apologize for that delicious panicked expression on your face either. You were a shy little thing. A little less than a month at Lennox still hadn’t beaten that out of you. Blue had seen all sorts of girls in all sorts of states of undress, but you did something special to him. He had yet to decide if this was something to be wary of. 

Your back had been to the door when he first entered. Blood rushed to your face and you moved to cover yourself with a small pile of bubbles that you’d accumulated as Blue swaggered closer to the tub, eyes shamelessly drinking in every inch of you that he could see. You felt caught, avoiding his gaze like the black plague. 

He played with you too much. One of these days you were going to bite back and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to it. Setting his glass on the edge of the claw-footed tub, Blue kicked off his leather shoes and made a show of jutting his throat so his cigarette wouldn’t mar the red silk tie as he pulled it up over his head. “Just teasing, precious. Make room.”

The heat of embarrassment never left your face and you could only stare down at the iridescent bubbles as Blue undressed in front of you. You’ve only ever seen him bare from the waist down. Or rather — from button to fly. 

Blue took it upon himself to teach you everything he thought a Lennox girl should know and he was generous enough to take the time out of his busy schedule to let you practice on him. You’ve memorized every pulsing vein and tender inch of his cock, just like he instructed you to, but it didn’t make you any more willing to unshield your eyes as your boss slipped underneath the veil of hot water beside you. 

Was this your divine punishment for wandering out of the bedroom and drawing a bath without his permission? You could only lay upside down and count the ceiling tiles so many times before getting a headache. 

Your hair was still pinned up from your time on the floor and Blue watched carefully as specks of glitter rivered down your bare collarbones. He was content in watching you manipulate the bubbles with your hands, stacking them in short towers and swirling your fingers through the water. He took a long drag from his cigarette. Those thick Cuban cigars were reserved for his highest-paying customers only. Besides, he never got used to the taste. Like aged paper and stale earth. 

Blue watched you closely, his eyes trailing up and down the pale scars that littered your delicate fingers. He hated how eager you were to work alongside your friends in the kitchens. He made it very clear from the start that you didn’t have to do anything like that as long as he was around, but you persisted with those perfect little puppy eyes of yours. 

One day he would have to say no to you. But that day was not today. 

He found himself watching the security footage like a hawk whenever you had kitchen duty. After the cook’s little fuck-up with one of his girls a while back, he was hesitant to let something as dear to him as you anywhere near the backrooms. 

But the pig seemed to have learned his lesson. If anything, he appeared to be under the same spell as he was. Poor little fucker. The only difference was that the cook never got to see you like this — stage makeup smeared from warm bathwater and perfumed steam. 

Blue sunk lower into the tub, two fingers pinching his cigarette millimeters above the water’s surface. You were completely bare to him. The only thing decorating your body was a white leather band – just as wide as his thumb was long – secured around your neck. He studied the golden heart-shaped pendant nestled between your soapy breasts, tracing the letters with his half-lidded eyes.

PUPPY

A smug smile wrestled its way onto Blue’s lips, knowing that his name was printed just as bold on the opposite side, right after ‘property of.’ It was one of your first little treats after he became completely and utterly infatuated with you. 

He made it a habit to bestow most of these treats upon you in the crowded dressing room or dance studio. He loved watching the lights in the other girl’s eyes flicker with raging jealousy as they studied your newest gift, knowing that while they shunned you for the next week or so, you would spend all of your time pouting in his bed while he worked from his desk. Once he got a taste of that view, it became impossible to focus on anything else.

“Can I try?”

Your voice rang out in the silent room like a bell. Your arms crossed over your concealed lap and the charm around your neck jingled from the movement. Your eyes were glued to the cigarette between Blue’s fingers and when he held it higher above the water to readjust his weight, you licked your lips hungrily. 

You’ve seen the men on the club floor smoking them all the time as they watched the dancers perform. They smelled god awful and the smoke always clung to your hair even after you shower at the end of a shift, but you couldn’t help but wonder. 

Blue chuckled, unable to hide his growing amusement. The water rippled as he reached across the tub. “Two fingers, there you go.” He instructed you on how to hold it properly, sitting back to watch the show with a snicker.

You wrapped your lips around the papery cylinder and breathed in deep, just like you’ve observed. The bitter smoke rapidly filled your lungs and you leaned forward to cough into your wet elbow, gingerly handing it back out to Blue who was barely containing an understanding chuckle.

“Nah, Nah, Nah, you’re doing it all wrong. C’mere.” He tapped his thigh underneath the water and you recognized it as one of his more casual commands, immediately abandoning your bubble creations to crawl across the floor of the tub until your back was resting up against his slippery bare chest. Your wet hair tickled his jaw as he took another inhale, worshipping the taste of you all along the mouth of his cigarette.

“Here,” he grumbled, skipping the part where he handed it to you just to pin the off-yellow end between your lips. A hand traveled up your throat and his thumb stroked the underside of your jaw encouragingly. “Suck in. Deep.” 

It’s a command and he growls it, watching your chest rise and fall with the glowing of the embers. When he wants you to stop, he taps your cheek with the back of his finger. “Hold it.” And obediently, you do. 

With the fresh, mind-clouding smoke swirling around in your lungs, Blue leans down and slowly kisses up the column of your throat, beginning his journey right above your white leather collar. Such a good girl, letting him pet you like this. He marks you with his lips all the way up to your earlobe, ending your torment with a harsh nibble.

“Okay,” the word leaves him in a regretful breath and he clings to the lingering taste of your skin on his lips. It’s the first time you’ve bared yourself to him like this and he wasn’t going to let you get away without memorizing every curve and dip of your flesh. “Let go, puppy.”

The smoke fans from your parted lips without a single cough or wheeze of discomfort. As soon as the last of the vapors were expelled from your lungs, you turned around to project your proud beaming face at Blue, which he returned tenfold as he let his eyes roam your face freely. Look at you, doing just what he asked.  

He took the opportunity to hike you up taller in his lap until your stomach was pressed flush against the underside of his hardening cock. He groaned at the way your thighs instinctively tightened around his torso. Your eyes grew wide as you smoothed your hands over his chest. Blue smirked, chin jutting upwards in a shallow nod. “Kiss me.”

Like you’d only just been waiting for spoken permission, you instantly captured his lips with yours, allowing his firm hands to rock your hips against his lap in painfully slow circles that made you whine softly into his open mouth.

He allowed his hands to travel freely over the landscape of your body, his hands gliding over your wet skin. Your soapy breasts felt like heaven under his fingers and you let out a desperate little pant as the rough pads of his thumbs rolled over your untouched nipples. The pleasure caught you off guard and you giggled into his kiss. Unbeknownst to you, Blue was memorizing the feeling of your smile and how it molded perfectly against his. 

The drugs did nothing for him. But this — you — he could see himself easily becoming addicted to. 

A heavy knock shook the door to Blue’s office. He hadn’t thought to close the bathroom door when he was still clothed and he could make out the silhouette of one of his henchmen behind one of the stained glass panels past the entryway. 

“Mr. Jones?” 

“Yeah! Just… One —One minute!”

He wasn’t quite done navigating your body, but you seemed put off by the presence at the door, already trying to sink deeper into the protective bubbles. He doesn’t like that—how you try to hide yourself from him.

You’ve turned yourself to face the door now, eyeing the silhouette although you knew whoever it was couldn’t see a thing past the pictured glass. Blue was the only man in Lennox House who didn’t look ready to eat you alive at a moment’s notice. Other than CJ, who always seemed like he would rather be someplace else as he trailed behind his boss and dutifully cleaned up his messes. 

Blue accepted this new position and began assaulting your neck with hungry kisses that made you yelp and melt back into his arms. The knocking starts again, turning thunderous just as he decides to explore the territory that you’ve kept hidden underneath the canopy of soapy water. 

His fingers traced your outer thighs, rolling his fingers in loose circles as he inched his way closer and closer to your core. Blue could nearly feel the tips of his fingers tremble with anticipation before another series of knocks broke his nearly religious concentration. He glared at the doorway as he pulled away, bringing both hands up to clutch your jaw and turn your face to the side so he could plant one last parting kiss against your cheek.

“Dry off,” he barked, a little peeved at himself for letting his workday anger seep into this one moment he had with you. His other hand came up and patted your cheek. “I want you on the bed when I get back.”

The fresh towel he haphazardly secured around his waist did very little to obscure his growing erection and he cussed under his breath. Gathering his clothes into a pile, he heard the water stir behind him and peered over his shoulder to see you leaning halfway out of the tub, looking up at him compliantly. “Okay, Blue,” you chirped, only sounding slightly dejected by his brief dismissal. 

It was like hearing his name for the very first time every time you spoke it. Blue huffed, now glaring sharp daggers at the figure standing just on the other side of the door. Whatever required his attention so desperately better be worth it. Because if it wasn’t, he wouldn’t hesitate to drop another body into that ditch.

[random-lil-illing]

Call of Duty Ghosts headcanons bc im bored

things these hcs will not have: angst, nsfw, reader/ocs, death (i know ajax died but no he didn't. and logan didn't get kidnapped/taken by the federation wdym)

things that will appear: lots and lots of keegan, a lot of teen! keegan and ajax, logan and hesh, fluff, silliness, lgbtq+ themes, elias, merrick, some rorke, and a tiny bit of neptune and kick. Also riley is there!!! gotta love the dog. also theres swearing. oh and this is a somewhat long post

okay so first up teen keegan and ajax hcs (aka when they first joined the ghosts)

-they lied about their ages for the first few months and then randomly went 'yeah we're actually 16/17'. elias and rorke decided to keep them on the team bc they had potential. merrick was very against it at first but was like 'yeah okay'

-those two definitely confused everyone else with their slang just like hesh and logan do now

-they insisted they were best friends but nobody believed them bc they acted so fruitily with each other (it was all jokes they said)

-if we go with the keegan is trans hc i feel like ajax did a 'diy at home' top surgery

-speaking of the walker bros. keegan was their main babysitter, with ajax as second choice if keegan was unable to. elias paid him like 20-30/hour and gave him an extra thirty dollars if he gave keegan the kiddos before he had time to eat

-keegan was amazing at eyeliner (he still is but tries to convince the rest of the team he doesn't do it anymore. they know better than to believe him) and almost always incorporated it into his eye black for missions

-following this up ajax was the master of painting nails and no one was safe from painted nails until he turned twenty two, including logan and hesh as kids. the only one who was sort of safe was rorke bc ajax never had the patience to convince him

-keegan exclusively wore baggy, graphic t-shirts and sweatpants/jeans/shorts outside of missions. occasionally wore tank tops for training. ajax almost never wore baggy clothes, wearing form fitting clothes instead - tank tops, normal t-shirts, sweatpants, jeans, etc. The two always stole each other's clothes

-keegan had (and has) the absolutely strangest eating habits. cannot eat three full meals a day without complaining about being full, but two meals a day + a bunch of snacks before and after each meal is fine. refuses to eat something he had a bad experience with once in like second grade but will gladly eat something that could kill him. Cannot cook to save his life (can you tell im projecting)

-ajax on the other hand has fairly normal eating habits but could not cook at all back then. he's okay at cooking now, but he till refuses to eat anything raw (including sushi and raw vegetables) or anything too cooked (mushy vegetables and such)

-keegan definitely set curfews for everyone anytime they decided to go out. he wouldn't strictly enfore them but he'd be a bit upset if they weren't followed (he's anxious and cares abt his teammates just doesn't know how to show it)

-i feel like both listened/listen to ayesha erotica atleast a lil. obv they have other music they listen to (metal, rock, etc.) but they definitely have atleast five ayesha songs in their playlists

-keegan has no idea what the p in his name is for. his birth certificate says 'keegan p. russ' (or katherine p. russ if we go with the trans hc). he tried to ask his parents/siblings but they dont know either. ajax always joked its for 'pussy' and logan and hesh followed in ajax's footsteps

-you know those baby tees with like 'i <3 pathetic men' or 'i put the hot in psychotic' on them. yeah ajax and keegan have those but as like oversized shirts

-keegan rarely ever cried/cries bc hes always forcing himself not to. so to encourage him to cry when he feels like it the team gives keegan ten/twenty dollars after everytime he cries and they tell him to 'get himself something sweet to make up for the tears'

-on that note keegan used to have the biggest salty cravings but now he has a terrible sweet tooth. ajax used to like savoury but hes a sucker for spicy now

okay enough teen headcanons lets move on to the present

-we all know logan and hesh are gen z so i propose: the walker brothers confusing everyone with gen z slang/humour/behaviour. things like 'slay' or saying 'im gonna kms' at any minor inconvenience. logan saying 'nice girl dinner' whenever keegan makes his weird but lowkey bomb lazy food

-some of the ghosts (mainly keegan, logan and kick) listen to music on missions. they mainly have appropriate songs for the occasion like phonk or metal but sometimes when they're fighting or killing an enemy inappropriate music starts playing and they have to try so hard not to laugh. i mean keegan slicing someones neck with 'make u cum' by ayesha erotica playing in the background

-logan rarely swears but when he does they are the most brutally creative swears ever. i'm talking 'pussyy-eating son of a French whore' sort of shit, and worse. much worse. hesh swears regularly but gently, elias the same but a bit harsher, rorke swore like a sailor but gentler than logan, neptune only swears when other do, kick never swears (you gotta bribe him to do it), merrick only swears when hesh, logan and keegan can't hear, and keegan swears a lot but nobody ever catches him doing it

-sometimes the ghosts mix their masks up to keep the federation on their toes

-also lets pretend that at the end of the game elias didnt die and logan didnt get captured by rorke and ajax didnt die at the beginning bc that made everyone else sad which makes me sad and just no. no angst here (pls humour me sadness is a very uncomfortable feeling)

-they tried to have separate rooms at their base but eventually they all just moved into the same room minus elias bc they just feel safer that way

-riley is the community service dog no arguing. whenever someones having a panic attack riley helping them. nightmare? dont worry he sleeps in the same as everyone else he'll just cuddle you. trouble eating/doing something? he'll do it with you

-also keegan, kick and logan 100% spoil riley. everyone treats him amazing but these three treat him like a king

-also i think it'd be funny if atleast one of the ghosts kept getting riley's gender wrong and calling him 'she' 'good girl' etc. bc thats exactly what i accidentally keep doing

-riley's very smart but the one thing he doesnt get is why nobody will eat his dog food with him. his logic is that he can eat human food so that means they can eat dog food. the only person that has eaten dog food with riley so far is keegan bc he will eat basically anything as long as the texture/taste/memory with said food is fine

-speaking of which occasionally keegan will just crack an egg and eat it raw infront of the others bc he thinks their reactions are funny. nobody else but neptune and hesh find it funny

-one time kick switched out keegans eyeblack with sharpie ink and keegan couldnt get it off for a week and didnt speak to kick for a month, not even on missions. he had ajax talk for him.

-(over comms on a mission)

kick: hey keegan do you need help?

keegan, fighting for his life against about five enemies alone: ajax tell kick i am about to DIE

-i think it'd be really funny if the ghosts started a tiktok account where they pretended to be airsoft/military cosplayers. theyd get unexpectedly popular and people would be like 'yo wheres ur gear from' and theyd panic and respond with smth like 'we stole it from the government' so theyd just be known as THE anarchist airsoft tiktokers (theyd obviously use different names and masks than usual)

-keegan is the most innocent ghost regarding sexual matters. it was banned talking about/learning about in his house and he never bothered to learn later. he knows the basics (how sex/getting pregnant works) but otherwise no

-merrick, neptune and ajax never had siblings growing up so whenever they see logan and hesh fighting they always wait until either keegan or elias intervene to see if its serious (elias is their dad and keegan grew up with four other siblings). why not kick? kick can't be trusted to intervene if they were tearing each others limbs off bc he and his siblings chased each other with weapons for fun

-keegan loves sugar but doesnt like showing it so he just eats chocolate/ice cream/cake at like two in the morning

-also he moves around a lot in his sleep to the point he could go to sleep on his bed and wake up underneath the same bed like two hours later

-rorke and elias were definitely best friends i refuse to believe they werent. also rorke taught the walker bros how to swear

-the ghosts watch cartoons in their free time. anytime they have a free friday they have movie nights - not limited to cartoons but its mainly that. when they watched the barbie movie they wore pink (also yes they're all feminists no theyre not any -phobic/-ist)

-i know they would never meet him but if they ever met ghost (simon riley) theyd make fun of his accent and maybe mask (especially the 'foap' side profile). they wouldnt take it too far tho i feel like they actually kinda like ghost. he wouldnt like them much tho i feel

-they have game nights and they have rules as to who can play what

-keegan cant play any card games bc he automatically wins everytime or he cheats, no inbetween. hes also banned from twister bc hes the most flexible

-neptune and merrick aren't allowed to play jenga (neptune cheats and merrick always gets way too mad about it). oh and neptune cant play would you rather bc he somehow always is the loser

-logan isnt allowed to play poker or go fish bc he cheats. he also cant play truth or dare bc he always picks truth and never dare

-hesh isn't allowed to play chess because he flips the board. also cant play 'sorry' bc he doesnt like killing off the other players

-kick isnt allowed to play any board game bc he somehow always finds a way to cheat

-elias isnt allowed to play would you rather bc he takes too long to decide

-ajax isnt allowed to play jenga, 'sorry' truth or dare bc hes either cheating or leaving halfway

-merrick also cant play twister bc he cant even do a crab for more than a second. neither can elias but he doesnt want to play anyway

-they have two groupchats - a professional, strictly bussiness one and a free time, silly one. sometimes they'll be talking about a target they have to kill in one groupchat and a minute later theyll be sending memes in the other one. they have the professional chat instead of meeting bc nobody likes those. sometimes someone (usually logan, hesh or kick) will be texting in the casual gc while theyre supposed to be talking abt important stuff in the bussiness gc and merrick or elias will go 'pay attention to the meeting boys' even tho there is no meeting

thats it for now lmk if you want more :]]]

[rockingrobin69]

pt. 2

“You always call me that,” Harry Potter said softly. “Full name, like I’m in trouble.”

“It’s your name,” Draco said. “What would you have me call you? Sugar plum? Honeybunch?”

A worrying choking sound filled the room. Harry Potter was… doing something, not smiling but not not-smiling either, something warm and addictive and very pleased.

“No! Nothing like that!”

“Ah. I see. You're more into the whole animal theme. Lambkin? Duckie? Little lion. Or we can go multilingual. Mon petit chou?”

“Malfoy!”

With the beaming, the unfair, unbearable beaming. Wiping his smirk physically, with a hand, “You're right, you're right, cabbage is not an animal, but I'm running out of ideas here, and you’re no help. Snoozypants? Squiddle-dee? Floopsypops?”

Harry Potter laughed so hard he was tearing up. “Is that—is that how you think normal people call each other?”

“Oh,” helplessly, “I’m sorry, High Lord of the Most Esteemed Committee of Naming and Such, is that too far out of the realm of possibility in a world in which Albus Percival Wulfric—”

“Snoozypants?”

“Liked that one, sweetheart?”

There was that blush. The top-to-bottom, hair-roots-to-feet. It made something in Draco’s belly clench, or unclench, or, just, react. It drew him closer somehow.

Harry Potter was still chuckling, tiny little hiccoughs of it making him jump. With another step forward, Draco murmured: “Unless, of course, you have a better idea?”

His eyes were so big. So—startled. Draco, feeling all of a sudden rather predatory, hastily removed himself from Harry Potter’s personal space and launched his overheated body on the sofa. “Well! That’s the matter sorted, then. Snoozlepants it is. I shall make it official upon my next visit to the Ministry. There might be an outcry, at first, but—”

Stopped when Harry Potter was suddenly very close. “Snoozypants,” he said, nonsensically.

“Bless you?”

“No. You said it wrong. You said—something else. I’m Snoozypants, from now on.” Grumpily, almost. Draco, enchanted, was also severely and terribly charmed.

“Well met,” he sputtered, and even put out a hand, like this was a totally sensible thing to do and not, say, a life-or-death situation that required a lot more courage than he ever had. “I’m—” ran out of words.

“Frimpton,” said Harry Potter. “Frimpton Mousipuff Hendersworth. The Third.”

Draco’s eyebrow hiked all the way up. “Mousipuff? That sounds suspiciously close to a certain House in which we both know I was not.”

Harry Potter shrugged. His face was so alight and so impossibly sweet that Draco nearly gagged. “Sorry, nothing for it now. The name’s been decided by the High Lord of Names and So On or whatever it was you said.”

“Hmm,” Draco huffed, oddly happy. “And here I thought I could outrun those stuffy ancestral monikers.”

“You still go by Draco Lucius Abraxas Malfoy?”

Pretending a hex to the chest, staggering backwards, “Point taken. Mousipuff it is.”

“Frimpton Mousipuff. Henderson. The third.”

“Begging your pardon, Snoozles, it was Hendersworth, not—”

“Ah-ha! So you were paying attention! I knew it.”

Somehow, in all this ridiculousness, Harry Potter was now seated next to him, thigh to thigh although the sofa wasn’t that cramped. He was pure ridiculousness in its purest form. Draco’s brain was barely even coming up with syllables anymore.

“Good,” someone said. Harry Potter. He was speaking. “I like it when you pay attention.”

Draco blinked.

“I like it when you—with me,” Harry Potter waved a hand in the very-little space between them. “Like this.”

Ohs kept exploding inside his chest. Highly inconvenient and likely dangerous. “Oh,” Draco said, out loud.

Harry Potter—he—he—lay his head, gently, on Draco’s shoulder. Melted with the biggest, most contended sigh. He was ridiculous and so warm and very real on Draco’s very real body part and none of this made the slightest bit of sense.

Helplessly, obviously, Draco melted too.

(This is not exactly a sequel to this little thing)

[darksigns-exe]

Sweet Like Honey - Secrets I Have Held

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of infidelity Word Count: 2.7 k Note: I wanted you to have both sides of the story. This is Noah's side of To Be Caught Adrift.

Read on AO3

Noah shouldn’t have picked up the phone in the first place. Her name on the screen should have been enough of an indicator for him to just throw the damn thing out of the window. But no. Like the damn fool he was, he’d picked it up, answered the call and listened to her excuses. Vic’s honeyed words had wrapped around his mind, and he’d almost agreed to see her again. 

Almost. 

This wasn’t the first time, either. She’d called the week before as well, had texted in between. Noah knew what he had seen. The image had burned itself into his brain. The writhing bodies on top of his bed were a near-permanent fixture of his sleeping hours now. He tries to bury it beneath the excitement for the tour, but then she texts him again, and it’s all he can think about again. 

It hadn’t been just bad. When they were good, they were really good. Was it love? In retrospect, he wasn’t so sure any more. They’d been more fast and loose than he would have liked, but as far as he’d been aware they were exclusive. Obviously, she’d seen that a little differently. He tries to count his losses and tally them up against the good things that’ll wait for him up the road. Emphasis on trying because he’s only moderately successful with it. They’ll be going on tour, the biggest one to date, the album is selling well, people love it. There isn’t a lot more than he could ask for. 

But that doesn’t stop him from wanting more. It’s a little selfish because he’s only met Bee once, but he can’t stop thinking about how easy those few hours had felt. He wants to learn all of her secrets, understand every furrow of her brow and how to undo it. It’s a little stupid because Noah doesn’t know a whole lot about her, but what he knows is already enough to have him running after her like a lovesick puppy. 

He doesn’t know what it is about this girl, but in the brief time they’d spent together, she’d managed to worm her way into his thoughts like nothing else. It doesn’t matter how hard he tries not to think about it, she always finds her way back — Nick and Tasha certainly don’t help when they talk about her. 

It's a welcomed distraction. He’d rather think about the pretty girl with her big ideas than whatever had happened in his bedroom. Maybe that’s why he keeps coming back to it. If she’d at least had the decency to fuck that other guy in her own home, maybe he’d be able to get over it already. But what kind of person do you have to be to cheat on your partner in their bed in a house that you don’t live in? 

Noah finally forces himself out of the studio in the back of the house and up the stairs. Thankfully, neither Nick nor Mari comment on his sudden appearance when he passes by them in the living room. Although, Mari gives him that look she’d thrown his way a few times. Thinly veiled pity and that even less veiled distaste for his ex. In a way, he was glad that Mari hadn’t been here when he’d found out.

He strips the bed down to its barest bones. If he washes it again, maybe it’ll go away this time. 

He passes the time until the washing machine is done, scrolling through his phone. A day-old picture of Nick, Mari, Tash and her follows some band's tour announcement. 

They’d been down at the beach, Nick looking more displeased than the girls to be out in the sun like that, but they seemed to be having a good time. Noah faintly remembers Nick asking him if he’d want to come with them. If he’d known that she’d be there, maybe he’d come — not that he doesn’t want to spend time with his friends, but sometimes he can’t quiet the voice in the back of his mind that keeps him inside. 

Noah taps the screen to see who is tagged in the picture. To his luck, Tasha is very diligent about this and three little name bubbles pop up on the screen. He easily recognises Nick and Maris’ usernames. The third one is a new. 

lisbethsander

It’s right there, hovering above her head. It feels a little invasive, even though her profile is public, and he’s friends with her friends, so really why shouldn’t he. A lot of the pictures of her profile seem to be of her research, with ones of friends, her cat and the odd vinyl record scattered in between them. There are places he has never heard of that she talks about with so much passion. Ruined remnants of things at surely were impressive at some point – not that they’re not impressive now. Some of it he can piece together, but a lot of it just flies right above his head. 

Lisbeth Sander.

He rolls the name around his mind for a while. It suits her. 

Finding her name like this feels a little odd, though. It feels as if he’s invading her privacy in some way. The longer he scrolls through her posts, the more he feels as if he’s gaining, at least, a little bit of an insight into her life. He finds a video of when she got a tattoo from Tasha, they’re laughing, singing along so poorly to the song playing over the sound system. Whenever the camera catches a glimpse of her, his chest feels that little bit tighter. 

He doesn’t know why he feels so hesitant. They got along well, she’s friends with his friends. It wouldn’t be weird if he would follow her. 

Vic hadn’t liked it when he’d spent time with other women. Tasha had rarely been over while they were together, and Mari had a very clear stance on the woman from the moment they’d met for the first time. 

That should have been enough of a sign. 

He taps the button before he can change his mind and tosses his phone onto the desk. 

Sometimes the voice in his head still sounds a little like Vic. It’s an awful, demanding thing. Maybe it had been just bad. Maybe the good had been the bits he had filled on his own. 

She’d been the one to ruin it, he tells himself. No matter how unapproachable he might have been at certain points during their stint, none of it justified fucking a shared friend in his bed. 

By the time he has dressed the bed again, it’s almost five. Nick had informed him at some point that most of them would head out for a couple of drinks later, which Noah had politely declined. Now that he’s alone in the house, he thinks that he should have gone with them. Maybe the distraction would have been good for him. They always go to the same place, so really there’s nothing stopping him from just joining the rest. The drive isn’t too long. 

He has to park a bit away from the bar. It is the middle of the week, but the place is usually packed. The campus isn’t too far from here either, so he figures that a lot of them will pile into the local bars as well, regardless of the weekday. Noah briefly wonders if Bee comes here sometimes. He’s never seen her when they go, maybe she’s not one for bars. 

The walk isn’t too bad. The air isn’t fresh, but it still feels good to not be cooped up inside for once. It’s starting to get really dark when he reaches the building. The light inside pours out onto the street. And he finds himself stuck in his tracks in front of the large window.

He watches the group — his group. He finds her almost immediately. She’s sitting between Tasha and Jolly. The latter has her wrapped up in a conversation about god knows what. For a brief moment, he feels like an outsider, like he doesn’t belong in there with the rest of them. It clutches at his chest, threatens to burrow itself back into the marrow of his bones. 

But the feeling quickly develops into something warmer. They’re all in there, the whole lot of them. Everyone he holds dear is gathered in one place. He tries not to let himself believe that they’re having a good time because isn’t there, that the laughter would still be there if he was in there with them. 

His eyes find Bee once again. The last time he had seen her, he had been too close to take it all in properly. It’s almost like he’s viewing a painting from the proper distance now, instead of standing right in front of it with his nose pressed up against the glass. He wonders if she's even aware of the magnetism she possesses, how people flock around her when she talks with that bright, burning passion. He hasn’t met a lot of people who manage to draw in crowds like that and still remain likeable enough for him to want to spend time with them. But then there’s Bee and that —

He’s fucked. 

Completely. 

Surely this is just a way for his brain to distract itself from the actual emotions that still mess with his sleep schedule. And even if this is something else, he’s hardly in the position to get involved with someone again. 

He watches as she detaches herself from the group and heads towards the counter for another drink. 

Noah slips into the door before she notices him lingering outside like some kind of creep. Instead of heading to the back to the rest of them, he sidles up next to Bee at the bar. 

“Who do we have here?”

Her head whips around, loose strands of hair falling from that already too loose ponytail. A range of emotions races across her face, and for a second he thinks that the surprise on her face is of the bad kind. 

“Didn’t know that you’d be here.” 

They talk for a while, and it’s just as easy as the first time. He wants to ask so many things. Burning questions that suddenly feel too invasive to ask now that they’re not really alone. It’s wrong, but he wants to keep her secluded to that quiet place where it’s just them, where he’s the only one that gets to listen to her. 

They do eventually join the rest at the back of the bar. He doesn’t miss the look Jolly throws him, but he tries not to think about it. He knows that he has to be careful. The feeling that is growing in his chest could easily turn bitter again. Noah is aware that the wound Vic has left behind in his chest is still too fresh to let someone else in. 

It doesn’t matter how long he tries to deny it. 

The damage is done, and now he has to deal with the fallout of it. 

Noah forces himself out of his thoughts. 

He’s surrounded by friends, if he keeps himself here, maybe he won’t drift back into that headspace. He listens to the stories people share, the jokes they’re telling, and he lets himself enjoy it. It doesn’t fix everything immediately, but it takes away some of the ache. He feels a little bit warmer, a little less caged in. 

The warmth rises further when he feels a set of eyes bore into him. Across from him, Bee seems to be entirely narrowed in on him. She stares – unblinkingly – for a little moment longer before her focus breaks and her cheeks turn bright pink. The brief trace of embarrassment dissipates quickly. She looks so awfully caught and – 

He knows the look her face devolves into.

Noah pushes himself up from the sofa he has sunk into. He stops by the armchair Bee is placed in “I’m getting more drinks, coming with?” 

She blinks up at him a few times before following him. 

He heads straight towards the far end of the counter, that so far is still empty. 

“What —”

“I know that look.” he tries to convey a sense of calm, “You don’t have to explain it.” 

Instead of the drinks he said he’d get, he orders a glass of water, the rest of them can wait. 

“This isn’t for you, huh?” he takes a look around the somewhat crowded room. 

They’d had this talk before, but he needs her to know that he understands the feeling that clutches at her. 

“Just a bad day.” 

Noah has used that same excuse often enough to know that this isn’t just a bad day. But he won’t pry, if she wants to share she will. 

“If it makes you feel better, I’m glad you came.” 

He doesn’t miss the little smile on her face. 

Noah watches as she downs most of her water in one go. He wants to ask how her week has been, if she’d thought about them as much as he had, but if he lets himself indulge in this feeling he runs the risk of either of them getting hurt. 

“I still have your sweater.” she says quietly. 

“Oh?”

He’d hardly thought about anything else. 

“I can go get it. My place isn’t too far from here.” 

The words are so rushed that he almost thinks that she’s trying to get rid of it. But with the way her fingers prick at the skin of her palm, he’s sure that it’s just nerves. 

“You really don’t have to.” 

“I wasn’t going to stay that long anyway. I have to work tomorrow, and I’ve already had a long day.” 

It’s adorable, he has to admit that. She’s trying so hard not to be a burden, not to be a cause for disruption when he wants nothing else. 

And worst of all, he doesn’t want her to go just yet. 

“I can walk you home.” he offers instead. 

It’s a two-in-one deal, really. He’ll get to be around her for a moment longer and maybe if he plays his cards right, he can get his hands on her number. 

She really doesn’t live too far from the bar. It’s just a short and sweet ten-minute walk before she stops in front of an older, multi-story building. 

“This is me.” She says, fishing a clunky set of keys from her back, “I’ll just pop upstairs and get the sweater.”

Noah gathers his wits. It’s not as if he hasn’t practised the line the entire way here.

“How about this…how about instead of that sweater you just give me your number, and we call it even?” 

It still comes out a little shakier than he had hoped. 

“You don’t want that back?” 

“Keep it. It looked good on you.” 

Her eyes find the ground in a futile attempt to hide the flush of her cheeks. She takes the phone from his hand anyway. Noah keeps his eyes trained on her while she types her number into it. 

He could watch her for hours. 

Their goodbyes are brief, but Noah waits until a light upstairs flicks on. Before he leaves, he snaps an admittedly dumb picture of himself and sends it to her. It’s easier than the words he wants to say. It’s still too tender. He doesn’t even know if she’d want him like that. 

Noah doesn’t go back to the bar, instead he takes the long route home. He values the company of his friends, but right now he needs the silence. He doesn’t know if he needs time to think or shut his brain off entirely. Neither option sounds like the best right now. 

He trots up the stairs and finds his way into his bedroom. Noah lets himself sink into the mattress of his bed. He lies in the silence for a while. It should feel bad to put Vic behind him so quickly. She made it easy, though. There’s no coming back from that. Even if it turns out that Bee isn’t interested in him after all, he needs to get over this mess, for his own sake. The tour will help, he’s sure of that, if anything it’ll take his mind off of it. 

When he picks up his phone to text Nick that he has gone back home, there’s a reply from Bee. A picture of her in the hoodie, the hood pulled up over her head and half of her face hidden behind her fingers. 

And wishes that it wouldn’t make him feel inside as warm as it does. 

[matt0044]

Disney's Wish: A Simple Meal Well Made.

As somebody who enjoys all sorts of animation that hits that sweet spot for me, I agree with the general consensus of fellow cartoon fans that animation is NOT just for kids nor should it only enjoyable to kids.

I also agree that while some are made with kids in mind, that doesn't mean that they are bereft of thought put into them. Avatar might be overdone as the go-to example but that it is does speak to its quality and all those it had inspired.

Even so, even wacky comedies like Billy & Mandy have a lot of thought put into them in terms of what the creators think will bust a gut. They don't just settle for wacky comedies because it's what the kids want but more what they wanna show. Even if some are strongarmed into being more comical, most will at least roll up their sleeves and have bit of fun.

However, I feel like this need to highlight animation's appeal across generations can often have a lot of fans put pressure on certain projects from certain studios of significant recognition. That is to say, there's little room to be just "mid" as the kids call it.

Like... we all know the Oscars are bull, right? Like many even admit as much. However, this dismissal of animation each year gets to use largely because there are those who by their hype. We feel our medium has a lot to prove so each movie has to be go big or go home.

Especially after big name companies put out projects that go GIANT between Spider-Verse and The Last Wish.

Of course, as it pertains to Wish, many would consider Disney not going big was unbefitting of their centenary film. I'm not here to advocate for expecting less or that one can't feel more meat could've been added to what they feel is a bit bare bones. I mean, 100 years of movie making is nothing to sneeze at.

But baring that and all else I've discussed above, it can be REALLY easy to fall into the pit trap of seeing Wish far less for what it is and a lot more for what it isn't.

For me?

I found the pacing fairly brisk from start to finish with the songs rarely ever feeling like non sequiturs. Rarely did any moment truly drag out with or was there just because of marketing or comic relief.

I love how we had less of a mystery around King Magnifico being a very selfish behind the scene from Act 1 and only getting worse when he perceives a threat to his power. It very much reads like a fantastical take on Walt Disney's rise in power and shadiness behind the charming facade.

While the heroine was archetypical, I found Asha's story and her friends getting swept up in facing the king more true to life than you think. Especially when viewed through the lens of being analogous to Disney:

King Magnifico as this benevolent ruler who harbors many wishes he promised he might grant. Many of which either come down to how they may not serve him or even threaten him like Saba's. That is, anything new or off-beat that could undermine what he's accomplished or feels entitled to.

Asha being this castle worker who tries to get the position of working with the big man himself and does... only to learn his shady side. Much like how Disney fans find any position in the company to not be the dream job they thought it'd be before learning how deep the rabbit hole goes.

Asha finds another source of magic that grants wishes and unintentionally threatens Magnifico. Given the indie animation boom, it's hard to not see this as creators taking IPs into their own hands without the backing of big megacorps.

Magnifico delves into dark magic that depreive him more and more of whatever scruples he had left in order to quash this rebellion. I think we've seen too many examples of bigger companies trying to outdo the little guys via unethical means of increasing production for money.

The King utilizes the wishes to get more power. Gee, where have I heard the creation of others being stolen/locked away for personal greed? Know anything, Davey-boy?

Asha rounds up her friend to expose the truth. Many of them organize a way to stop this injustice while the King buy out one of their own to try and undermine them. Hmmmm. Anybody hear of any strikes that went on recently?

The climax involves the king's people collectively embracing their inner stars to stand up to the tyrant he's become. Again, strikes?

Hell, I can't help but feel like the Easter Eggs were as lowkey as they could if only so these elements could be highlighted. Surprising considering how nostalgia baiting has been en vogue lately.

But that's a grand chunk of my disorganized thoughts on a movie that I feel many will get worked up now but look back on with a touch more of appreciation. It's hardly the best movie ever and maybe a "Go Giant" ambitious film would have been a crowd pleaser.

But the movie is what it is. And I like it for what it is.