#second and third was drawn today as i was taking a shit

[siphoklansan]

Ladies, gentlemen and nonbinary folks- Genderbend! Siphok🕺✨

⚠️SMALL CHAPTER TWO TWISTED WONDERLAND SPOILERS. YOU’VE BEEN WARNED⚠️

ft. Floyd Leech, Vil Shoenheit (tiny bit in the first frame), Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Grim & Siphok

last pic is a response for @baileygirl2001 ‘s reblog to this post💓🫶

This is what happens what BOOM…YOU GET HIT BY A BOMB OF INSPIRATION‼️ i have no idea what made me suddenly draw him tbh (wrong- it’s because a moot says she loves gb siphok so here I am😞) BUT ANYWAY I PLAN TO DRAW SIPHOK IN BEANFEST ATTIE TOO BUTTTTT I got lazy :,(( still wanna draw him holding a bean-rifle though but my brain has officially fried </3 gonna go answer some asks and draw some more-

[atinylittlepain]

Little Pinch

nurse!marcus pike x f!reader

she needs to get bloodwork done. one small problem, getting bloodwork done never goes well for her, especially not when she's distracted by the very kind, very handsome nurse doing it.

wordcount | 3.3K

content info | 18+ discussions of getting bloodwork that includes needles, fainting, nausea, mostly fluff, nurse marcus to the rescue, this is just a fun time, also an un-beta'd time so like, be nice pls

a/n | shoutout to the girls (gn) that pass out every time they get blood work done (me). I have to get new labs tomorrow morning, and writing this is how I coped with that prospect :') this one is for the fainters, the thin veiners, the "just do it in my hand"-ers - i see you, i am you, gawd bless

..........................................................................

Here’s the thing, this never goes well. It wasn’t always like this though. She has a vague memory of being a kid and taking it like a perfect champ, testing for mono after a rash of cases at school. But then, well, something changed. 

It runs in her family. Thin veins that are hard for even the best nurses to find, lots of oh, I just lost it, and well, let’s try your other arm, and always, ultimately, hands? Should we try the hands? No, the nurses never listen when she tells them to just start with the hands, and without fail, somewhere around the third or fourth time they try to get the needle in, a cold sweat breaks, and the room starts to filter through a fuzzy pinhole of vision. It’s embarrassing, she thinks, because, really, she has no problem with needles. Can watch it go in, no issues with piercings, et cetera, et cetera, but getting blood drawn? Yeah, forget about it. She usually comes to with paperwork around her feet that she had been holding, and a well-meaning nurse pressing a damp paper towel to her forehead and breathing the remnants of her lunch over her face and alright, hon? Usually a box of apple juice and an escort out to her car to make sure she doesn’t go offline again. 

The other thing is, unfortunately, she’s pretty sure her little fainting, fading thing has gotten worse over the years. A conditioned response, she thinks, that cold sweat starts the second she walks into the waiting room, already anticipating what comes next. And today, well, even worse than some of the others. Twelve hours fasted, and no, that certainly won’t help her case, no matter how much water she downed before she came here, no matter how tight she squeezes her fist in the hopes of pumping even one vein up enough to be tenable. She looks at the woman sitting across from her in the waiting room, reading a back-ordered issue of Cosmo, flipping and flippant and really, why can’t she be like that? Why can’t she be normal like that? Instead, her heel is doing a frantic tap, whole leg jerking with it, and everytime she checks her watch she feels her heart creep a little further up into her throat. 

If she’s being honest, she thought about canceling her labs. No, doc, all good, doc, don’t need to know, doc. And then a friend pointed out, frustratingly, that avoidance is only going to make it worse. Right, so, right, so right, so, here she is. And here’s the nurse opening the door and right, calling her name, and it’s a man nurse, male nurse, though she’s pretty sure she’s not being PC by making that specification in her mind because really, twenty-first century, and really, anyone can be a nurse. But not anyone, right? Lots of schooling, right? Right. She realizes a bit too late that she hadn’t responded to the nurse calling her name, jerking up out of her chair and trying for a smile that she thinks probably looks more like constipation. And that’s just great because now man nurse, sorry, just nurse, probably thinks she’s constipated and she’d rather not have the, actually, very handsome, just nurse, thinking that on top of whatever she’s got going on that necessitates lab work she also can’t take a shit. Right. 

“We’re going to be in this room right here.” Handsome just nurse has a nice voice too, deep but kind, and a strong jawline, and a patchy beard but she likes that it’s patchy, and he’s tan and he’s got one of those big watches that tells you how hard your heart was beating on your run and he probably runs in the afternoon after clocking out of the needle-in-arms gig and that’s probably why he’s so tan, probably has a golden retriever who runs with him too, because he looks like a golden retriever guy, dark flop of wavy hair and that smile and oh, oh, he just asked her a question and now she’s supposed to answer it. 

“I’m sorry, could you say that again?” He smiles, nods, being nice, at least, about her whole scared prey animal situation. She presses her palm down hard on her knee to keep it from bouncing any more. 

“It says on this order that these labs need to be taken fasted. Can you confirm to me that you haven’t had anything to eat or drink besides water in the last twelve hours?” Oh yes, yep, she can confirm that for you, Marcus, his name is Marcus, says so on his little lanyard badge. Thanks for the easy one, Marcus, pitch right down the middle, Marcus, with your nice smile and your clipboard and your, well, needles and tubes. But before he can get started with his, well, needles and tubes, she makes a strangled, sort of despondent sound because in situations like these, she comes with a warning label. 

“I should let you know I have, um, bad veins? Honestly, you can just start with my hands, I don’t mind it. And also, I’m a fainter, yeah, so, it happens every time, just so you know.” And usually, usually, her spiel is given very little notice, mmmokay, hon. Sure, they’ll lay her back, how merciful, so she doesn’t crack her skull open on the way out of conscious orbit. That’s about it, though. But this time, she thinks, might just be different.

“Okay, thank you for giving me the heads up. If you’re sure you’re alright with starting with the hands then it’s fine by me to get it done that way.” So, so fine, Marcus, and maybe, just maybe, she thinks she might not pass out this time. He sets the exam table at a reclined angle and she wills her rigid spine to settle against it, trying to find the balance between breathing so deeply she starts to get light headed, and not breathing at all. In case you were wondering, yes, she is on medication for anxiety, it just doesn’t seem to presently be working. 

“Just gonna feel around a bit here for a good one.” She only feels a little insane for the kick and clench in her heart when he takes her one hand in both of his, because he’s just palpating the back of her hand to find, as he said, a good one. Yes, the word for it is palpating, and there is certainly nothing romantic nor, hello, sexual about anything that’s called palpating. But, hey, taking wins where she can get them, and even through the latex gloves, his hands are warm and big and very know what they’re doing about the whole thing. And she’s no expert, obviously, but he’s got a very nice, very visible vein in his forearm, and she bets phlebotomists love him, bets that when he gets blood drawn, he’s in and out no problem, bets that even she could draw blood from him. Nope, nothing sexual about that, nothing weird about that, right? Right. Nothing sexual either, when he ties off the tight band around her arm and she watches his one bicep flex a little with the effort. 

“I can count you down, or you can look away and I’ll just get it done, whichever you prefer.”

“Uh, no preference, I’ll just look away and you can do whatever you want to me.” Jesus. Jesus fucking Christ. She realizes exactly what she just said a bit too late, him, Marcus, nice nurse Marcus, letting out a laugh that fizzles out into a cough. Great, now she’s made her fucking phlebotomist uncomfortable, possibly one of the last people you want to make uncomfortable. But if that, whatever that was, lingers, he doesn’t show it, already swiping an antiseptic wipe over the back of her hand and pulling his little cart of tubes closer to himself. And she knows this part, she’s good at this part, letting her eyes sweep up and to the right, because he’s on her left, and willing whatever vein he decided is a good one to stay a good one. Little pinch, little prayer, she lets out a held breath when he says a quiet alright and keeps the needle exactly where it is. Hallelujah.

“This might take a little longer, just because we’re drawing from your hand.”

“I’ll bleed as fast as I can then.” At the very least, he laughs, even though she wishes she had kept that one to herself. 

“Do you live around here?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“Sorry, I’m trying to distract you.” 

“Didn’t they teach you how to do that in like, phlebotomy school?” She still has her eyes turned up and away, only a little wince when he switches out one tube for another. He hums at her question.

“Not really, I could ask you about the weather, is that better?” 

“It’s cloudy. Not much of a conversation starter.” 

“Well, why don’t you ask me something, since you’re such an expert on starting conversations.”

“Do you have a golden retriever?”

“What?”

“Sorry, you just, you look like the kind of guy who’d have a golden retriever.” Another tube clicks into place, but she’s not paying any attention to that now. 

“Uh, no, no golden retriever. I do however have a very old, very deaf pit mix named Lucille.” Goddamnit, somehow that’s hotter than the golden retriever. 

“Great name.”

“Yeah, I thought so too. She came with it when I adopted her.” God. Fucking. Damn it. What next, is he a volunteer firefighter on the weekends?

“Alright, that’s the last one.”

“Wait, really?” She chances a skittish glance but, sure enough, the needle is out.

“Yep, just let me get a band-aid for you and you’re all set.” Is he? Is she? Really? Going to make it out of here with no blackout? She considers, very briefly, as Marcus is smoothing a band-aid over the back of her hand, whether it’s possible to put a phlebotomist on retainer. 

“If you want to sit for a minute and make sure you’re feeling alright before getting up that’s totally fine. I can also get you water or juice if you’re getting lightheaded.” 

“Oh, no, I’m fine actually. Which, hey, thanks for not making me faint and stuff– that’s a first for me in a very long–” Oh, oh, stops herself mid-compliment because oh, oh, maybe stood up too fast, because the room is going a little dark, a little sideways, cold prickle and nauseous and–

“Easy, easy, I’m gonna help you sit up, okay?” His voice is a little fuzzy around the edges. To be honest, he’s a little fuzzy around the edges, though she knows right away what happened. No, not her first rodeo, like she blinked and then came to in a strange sprawl on the end of the exam table. Marcus presents a dixie cup to her, holds it right in her line of sight because clearly, she’s still a little slumped, still a little vacant, and a little warm, actually, which is new, and a little pleasant, and, oh, it’s because his arm is curled around her shoulders, firm palm held there to help her sit up. Oh. He smells like clorox and something woodsy, and it shouldn’t, but it kind of works. 

“You feeling okay?”

“Mmmhmm.” She’s afraid of what might come out of her mouth if she doesn’t keep her lips pressed in a thin line, mmhmms again when he asks if she can sit up on her own, only a little despondent when he takes his arm away. 

“So, you really weren’t kidding about that happening every time, huh?” 

“Nope, wish I was. It’s– I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“That you had to deal with that.”

“You don’t have to be sorry about that, it’s part of the job. And actually, you fainted about as perfectly as I could’ve asked you to.”

“I didn’t know you could faint like, well.” 

“Right before you went down you said I’m gonna faint. That’s a lot better than getting no heads up and turning around to find my patient unresponsive on the ground.” 

“Oh gee, I bet you say that to all your patients.” Lord, if there was ever a time to put her out of her misery it’d be now. She probably still looks green from her little trip to outer space but sure, flirt with Marcus, handsome nurse Marcus who just watched you absolutely eat it. Kick your feet and bat your eyelashes while you’re at it. 

“I take it you’re feeling better then? Are you okay to walk out to the front desk?” And the rest is, mercifully, easy. He walks her to the front desk, squeezes her shoulder and gives her a good job today that she likes a little too much. She makes a mental note to herself to never come back to this clinic for any future bloodwork, lest she make a fool of herself all over again in front of a man who, with any luck, she will never see again. 

…

“Yes, this is she speaking.” This is she speaking in the middle of the cereal aisle with a half-filled grocery basket at her feet. She sets her gaze on a hyper-realized image of a granola cluster (now with real strawberries!) while the woman on the other end of the phone tells her that her lab results came in and were sent over to her doctor. 

“Oh, great, thank you for letting me know. Do you know– did things look okay?” 

“We don’t interpret the results, ma’am. Your doctor will go over that with you.” She doesn’t quite catch that, doesn’t catch the woman’s ma’am? either, a little preoccupied with staring down the aisle, because is that? Is he? He looks good out of the scrubs. 

“Ma’am?”

“Sorry, no, um, of course. Thanks again.” If the woman had anything else to tell her, it’s a little too late for it, already hung up, and she’s trying to decide if she wants him to see her, or if fleeing immediately is the best course of action. He probably wouldn’t even recognize her, she thinks. It’s been a couple of weeks since the whole ordeal. And actually, she’d prefer if he didn’t recognize her. Oh yeah, the one who, well, ate it. But it seems the choice has already been made for her, because he saw her, walking down the aisle toward her, with his chin tilted down and part of a smile like he isn’t sure, but he’s pretty sure. He says her name like a question. Guilty as charged.

“Marcus, right?” Like she forgot his name, ha. His smile stretches, a little brighter, palm to the nape of his neck, and while she got the golden retriever part wrong, she totally clocked the rest, watch on his wrist and nice-looking athletic shorts and just-right-tight t-shirt with the little swoosh on the chest. She thinks his hair might even be a little sweat-damp, curled ends nearly getting in his eyes. In other words, she’s a goner. 

“How have you been since we– you, well–”

“Since I passed out on you?” Yeah, that, he laughs out and yeah, she likes him, sue her. 

“Just for the record, I believe it was you who said I passed out perfectly, so.” Shrug, so, he takes a step closer, leans in a little like he’s going to tell her a secret. In the cereal aisle, of all places. 

“Just for the record, I really don’t say that to all my patients.”

“No?”

“Nope, just the nervous, pretty ones.”

“I was not nervous.”

“You weren’t?”

“Nope.”

“Are you just gonna blow past the other thing?”

“What thing?”

“The pretty thing.”

“Yep.” Something a little giddy, like being back in high school, shared, shit-eating and smug grins. He shakes his head and she rolls her lips back in her mouth to stop her smile from getting any cheesier. 

“So, you do live around here then?” 

“Mm, yeah, I do. And so do you?”

“I do.”

“Nice, nice.”

“Lovely weather we’re having.”

“Wow.” 

“What? I’m making conversation.”

“You’re still not very good at it.”

“I’ll keep working on it for you.”

“Sure, okay. What kind of cereal do you get?”

“What kind do you think I get?”

“You look like a Kashi guy, if I’m honest.”

“Somehow I feel insulted.”

“Well.”

“You’re not even right either.” 

“No? What do you get then?” He just smiles, steps away and reaches up to the top of the shelf and she is very grateful to General Mills for being located on the top shelf because his shirt rides up just enough to see a bare hip. In cheerios we trust. 

“Apple cinnamon, seriously?”

“What? It’s a classic.”

“Actually, you know what, that tracks.” 

“What do you get?” She waggles her basket in front of him in response, goods already procured. 

“Peanut butter chex, respectable choice.”

“Thank you, thank you.” 

“You know, I’d say we’re pretty good at this conversation thing.”

“Yeah, we’re not bad.”

“Do you want to do this again sometime? Not in the cereal aisle?”

“What, you mean like in the produce section?” He smiles at that, rolls his eyes, his basket lightly bonking against hers. 

“I was thinking more like dinner, or drinks if that’s your thing?” 

“I might be free on Saturday.”

“I might also be free on Saturday.” 

“Well, sounds like we’re both free on Saturday.”

“Can I get your number?” His lockscreen is a picture of a dog. Lucille, he tells her, before she was very old and very deaf. She can’t help how big her smile gets at that. 

“Text me, and we’ll do this whole conversation thing again.” I will, he says, phone tucked back into his pocket, though he seems to think twice before asking her can I see something really quick. Not entirely sure what he means when she nods, but then his hand sort of hovers over her forearm, may I? He really does have nice hands, she doesn’t think twice about nodding again. 

“Oh yeah, we didn’t have to use your hand. I could have totally gotten it from here.” His hand curled around her elbow and his thumb lightly pressing into what she can only assume is a vein, and he says it so earnestly that she can’t help the incredulous laugh that rises up in her chest. 

“Really? You’re still stuck on that, huh?” He smiles something sheepish, pad of his thumb rubbing an apology into her skin before pulling away. She didn’t really want him to pull away.

“Sorry, occupational hazard, I guess.” 

“Kinda weird, you know.”

“Did I just ruin this whole thing?”

“Mmm, no, I kinda like it.”

“So, Saturday?”

“Looking forward to it, Marcus.” 

[nevsdoll]

Neville x slytherin reader pls 💖💖💖

Where maybe he is her tutor in herbology , I need it so bad!! ✨✨

herbology for dummies | neville longbottom

neville longbottom x fem!reader

summary! ↑ the request! (⁠ ⁠˵⁠ ⁠°⁠ ⁠~⁠ ⁠°⁠ ⁠˵⁠ ⁠)

warnings; NSFW +18 SMUT ! underage + unprotected sex, slightly public! sort of hate-sex (⁠๑⁠•⁠﹏⁠•⁠) . . . (lmk if i missed any)

a/n: i always make these generic house reader so everyone feels connected but i'll try my best to make a slytherin character without being too stereotypical lmaoo !! ♡ (i couldn't find a gif i liked but i don't like this pic either)

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

"i can't believe that bitch sprout gave me a tutor..." you said while walking towards the library, where you would meet your new tutor.

"no, that's believable, sweety. what's unbelievable is that your tutor is going to be that longbottom dork!" pansy said while laughing.

"oh, shut up... he is probably so sweet" you responded annoyed at your friend's mean words. "i'll see you later"

you entered the library and scanned the place looking for that gryffindor boy. he was sitting all the way in the back, where you could barely see him. you approached him, "why are we sitting here?" you asked.

neville looked up at you, "oh, hey" he thought for a second before answering to your question, "i don't know, i just felt like sitting here, i guess" you nodded and sat beside him as you watched him open the herbology book. "so, why are you particularly struggling with?"

"umm... i don't know, i don't really pay attention in class" you looked around the table which was filled with books that neville picked up. "why do we need all these books for?" you picked a random one, reading the title out loud, "'the enchanting world of magical plants: a guide to botanical mysticism', what the fuck is this? does this even enter on the test?"

"no... i just thought it might help..." he said, somehow embarrassed.

you grabbed another book, "'herbology for dummies', excuse me? are you mocking me, longbottom?" you looked at him angrily.

"what? that's just how it's called, it's not my fault! it's a good book i read it!" he said while taking the book from your hands and putting it away. "let's just get into studying" you sighed, already angry at him —not for a good reason—. basically, your first actual impression of neville longbottom was ruined.

you only knew about him because you saw him sometimes in class and at the corridors, but mostly you just knew what draco malfoy and his friends used to say about him. at that time, you thought they might have been right.

you were drawn away from your thoughts by the guy's voice, "i think these are the only topics that are gonna be on the test... i don't think mrs. sprout will ask anything about the water plants because we just started it..."

"i should just use a cheat sheet or something..."

"i mean, you could but i think sprout is going to do an anti-cheat spell, you know? because it's the end of the semester and all" neville looked at you with a small smirk.

you covered your face with your hands annoyed, "shit, you're right..." you let out a small breath, "okay, just teach me the most important so i can go, i want to go see the slytherin quidditch practice after this."

"slytherin is practicing today? i thought oliver booked the field..." he spoke, thinking out loud.

"that's the thing with you gryffindors, you think the world revolves around you." you said.

"how is that thinking the world revolves around us?" he rolled his eyes. "and that's really bold coming from someone who is friends with malfoy" he laughed annoyed.

you gasped, "okay, first of all, i'm not friends with draco; second of all, YOU are a friend of THE harry potter so of course you wouldn't notice the harry potter syndrome you all gryffindors fall into... and third of all, you are my tutor, you shouldn't say such things"

"i'm sorry, what?!" he opened his eyes in shock, completely offended. "how could you say that? you were the one who started this!"

"oh, real mature, longbottom" you looked away, trying to ignore him.

"also, what the hell is the harry potter syndrome?!" he asked with his eyebrows making a frown.

"exactly!" you said as neville just tsked at your response. "just teach me whatever you have to teach me" you added still looking away.

neville sighed and started going through the book, explaining every topic best way he could because due to your lack of response he couldn't know what you struggled most with.

this went on for quite some time, you had been swimming inside your deepest weirdest thoughts, not paying attention to anything neville had to say. at one point you even felt bad, it felt like you had these little cartoony versions of yourself on each shoulder saying "he is trying to help you!" and the other one saying "whatever, he is probably already used to being ignored. he was being rude". the boredom was just starting to get more vivid and you let out a yawn.

"you could at least pretend like you are listening!" he said. "i'm doing this for you, you know? i don't want to be here either."

"then leave! i'm not asking you to do anything! i just stayed here in case you were going to tell on me to sprout like the nerd loser you are!" you got up from the chair and closed the book. the only reason why you weren't screaming at each other was the fact that you were still at the library.

"what?!" he looked at you shocked. you looked at him in his eyes, you could sense he was somehow hurt. you stayed looking at each others eyes for a few seconds right before throwing yourselves into each others mouths.

you didn't even know how was it that the situation took this turn but now neville longbottom was sitting you on a table, throwing everywhere the herbology books he picked up while kissing you roughly with his hands grabbing your ass. —and he was honestly such a good kisser too, he knew exactly what to do and how to do it.

you quickly unbottoned your jeans needing more of his touch. he looked down at your movements and smirked, "shit, you wanna do it with a nerd loser, y/n?" he laughed.

"shut up" you unbuckled his belt, throwing it behind the books that were still on the table. neville laughed, absolutely forgetting about his shy and kind persona. he brought you closer and lowered your jeans, rapidly slipping his hand on your panties and caressing your bare cunt. "just do it, longbottom" he smiled and kissed your lips once more while lowering your panties and finally taking his erection out of his clothes. neville shoved his dick inside of you making you bite your lip to silence your scream. your body layed down on the table trying to adjust to his already rapid movements. your back already arching and hands begging for something to grab and hold on to. "neville, your cock feels so good..." you whispered.

neville bit his lip while increasing the pace. his hands ran through the inside of your shirt until finally meeting your breasts. he played with your nipples mercilessly as you moaned covering your mouth with your hand. "what has gotten you so excited?" he teased.

"you are lucky you are fucking me so good, if not, i would have left." you responded between gasps and moans. "i thought you were a virgin... how many girls have you fucked?"

"you are the only slytherin i had left" he said with that smirk on his face again.

"fuck you, longbottom." you sensed you were close, you wouldn't hold it for much longer.

"you are guilty of that." he laughed at the same time you finally released. cumming all over his cock and leaving cum leaking on the table. "damn, y/n... that was hot"

you breath out and dressed up. "thank you, tutor, i'm going to the quidditch practice. i'll see you tomorrow for another tutoring session!"

[cafedanslanuit]

♡   —   pairing: denji x reader

♡   —   summary:  An 80's-themed diner is where your boyfriend takes you the first time he decides to pay for your meal. As you balance your feet on the tall stool, you can't feel but feel giddy— Denji always finds new ways to make you fall even harder for him.

♡   —   tags/warnings: traditionally feminine presenting reader + she/her pronouns (gets called 'girl' once), no devils mentioned, suggestive conversation (mentions of petting & sending nudes), LOTS of fluff, denji is an ass and a sweetheart at the same time, puppy love feels

♡   —   a/n: this is my first csm fic!! i was heavily inspired by this post by my lovely friend @ofoceansandtombsanew <3 "he loves you, so he says it. he likes being with you, so he says it. he wants you, so he says it" i was so in love with that line i ended up writing this c:

♡   —  masterlist

Universe must have my back Fell from the sky into my lap And I know you know that you're my soulmate and all that

“You look really pretty today."

It’s not the first time you’ve heard those words, especially from him. However, just like the very first time he said so, you feel heat rising to your cheeks as your lips curve into a sweet smile. You happily balance your feet, the stool too high for them to reach the floor, and wonder how you have never heard of this place before. It has a retro vibe present, from the jukebox sitting at the back of the diner to the polka-dot aprons on the waitresses.

This could be your new favourite, you think, and the idea of your boyfriend knowing you’d love this place as much as you do makes you happy, sure, but also reminds you he cares for you as much as you care for him. The idea of him walking around the city, spotting a new diner and his first idea to be about wanting to experience it with you makes your heart do a flip.

You love how he carries your presence within him.

“Thank you. You look good too,” you say, caressing his bicep with two fingers, feeling the texture of the navy blue button-up he was wearing. “All dolled up for me.”

“You noticed?” Denji grins, puffing his chest. “I stole this one from Aki. It never creases. Look,” he says, scooting closer to you on his chair. He grabs a handful of the shirt and squeezes it tightly. A couple of seconds later, he releases it, leaving no trace or wrinkle at all. “See?”

“My mom used to say that’s how you know it’s a good fabric.”

“Has to be. I stole it from Aki, after all.”

You chuckle, nodding your head. “You did say that, yeah.”

“Wanted to look good today. You always look so nice when we go out,” he says, not-so-subtly eyeing your cleavage before looking back into your eyes. “Always got people around us staring.”

At these words, you scrunch your nose with a small smile.

“You know I don’t care about that.”

“Mmm, but I do,” he hums. He leans in closer, a devilish smile on his face. “I like it when they do.” His confession comes in a whisper. “Makes me feel all giddy and shit. Like I won.”

Laughter bursts out of you loudly, your shoulders shaking as you do. When you look at him again, he has a proud smile on his face while his teeth slightly bite his bottom lip, his eyes focused on only you. The ice cream parlour slowly disappears around you as your chuckles come to an end. Now, there’s nothing else but your boyfriend and his inexplicable charm. His gentle eyes, his messy hair, his―

His lips. Chapped but oh so very soft and warm. They always feel like home and you can’t help but feel drawn to them every time he makes you this happy. A content sigh escapes your body and you realize how badly you want to kiss him.

So you do.

You grab both sides of his boyish face and kiss him. It’s soft, but the surprise is enough to make him gasp before he wraps his arms around your torso, holding you tightly against him. You press a second kiss on the corner of his mouth and then a loud, third one, on his cheek.

“Love you, baby,” you mutter, nudging your nose against his skin. You kiss him one more time before pulling away with a love-struck expression. Your arms now circle his neck, fingers idly playing with his hair, while he drums his own on your waist.

“I love you too. And not because you’re like― so fucking hot.”

You snort. “I’m not hot?”

His eyes widen, a glint of fear running past them. He puts his big hands on your cheeks, squishing them together and bringing you closer to his face. “I mean not only because of that!! You’re really hot, you’re like― like, the other day I was watching porn and I couldn’t get myself to finish so I just opened your Instagram.”

Deji’s cheeks grow red, only now realising the weight of his words. You take his hands into yours and slowly put them down, resting them on your lap along with yours. Your lips stretch into a mischievous smile, and you look so devilish he can’t help but swallow thick.

“What photo?” you ask.

“Huh?”

“What photo did you…” you roll your eyes playfully, your tongue grazing your upper teeth. “You know.”

“Oh,” he blinks. “Hm, let me remember.” He presses his palms on your thighs, slightly balancing himself as he accesses his memories. His eyes go around the store, and you can almost hear the gears turning inside his head. You know he’s going to talk about the beach ones. “Right― okay, okay, I got it. It’s the one I took, yeah. The one at the park, with the dress.”

“That’s not a sexy photo,” you point out, cocking your head to the side. “I’m just sitting on a bench.”

Denji shrugs. “It’s my favourite. You look pretty. Also, that was the first time you let me sneak a hand under your dress.”

“Ah, I remember now,” you reminisce with a grin. “Behind that tree, right?”

“We were interrupted by that fucking chihuahua.”

His grimace earns him another kiss, this time on the tip of his nose. You chuckle at the memory of how the tiny dog latched onto the bottom of his jeans and wouldn’t let go, no matter how much he shook his leg. When it finally left (taken away by a very embarrassed owner), you took notice of the hole in your boyfriend’s jeans.

The date ended with you trying your best to sew it back together at his apartment. Denji had only found red string, so you were very careful to make it look good against the faded denim. Once you were done, you added the tiniest of hearts at the end of the stitch, only for him to see. That’s all it mattered, anyway.

“Next time, just ask,” you say. You take one of his hands between yours and rest your chin over it, looking at him intently.

“Hm?” His thumb strokes your cheek, making you smile.

“I mean, if you asked, I could send you more… interesting photos. Of me.”

It takes a couple of seconds for him to understand what you’re implying. But when it does, he gets noticeably excited. He shifts on his seat, straightening his back, and he passes his free hand across his dishevelled hair. His lips open and close a few times before he speaks again.

“Really?”

Your grin gets even wider. “Yeah. Call it ‘boyfriend perks’,” you wink. “Might even add a polaroid for your wallet. Keep me with you even when you’re away and―”

It’s Denji’s turn to lean in and join your lips together. You hum into the kiss, letting go of his hand and allowing him to press your body against him. The force of the kiss makes your chair tilt, and you hold onto his shoulders as you feel yourself losing your balance. Thankfully, he notices it and quickly pulls away from the kiss to grab your seat, successfully steading you.

Once he deems you’re safe again, he leans back, taking a good look at you. A charming and crooked smile appears on his face and you can’t help but imitate him, warmth spreading inside your chest.

“You’re so cool,” he sighs, mostly to himself. “And so pretty. Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

“Mmmm, all you’ve called me today is pretty,” you whine, playfully feigning offence. “That’s all I am to you?”

“I mean, I’m paying today,” he shrugs. “So, yeah, all you need to be right now is pretty. Just sit there and look pretty for me.”

You feel your cheeks reddening, but decide to egg him on.

“Is that what you do for me when it’s my treat?”

Denji snorts and rolls his eyes. “Of course. I make sure I take a shower every time I see you. I don’t do that for anyone else.”

“And I’m eternally thankful for that. In fact―”

“Are you guys ready to order?”

Both of you look up, only now noticing one of the waitresses had finally decided to approach your table.

“Yeah!” Denji grins, putting an arm around your shoulders. “I’ll have whatever my girl’s having.” His smile drops a second later, and he gets closer to you. “No, wait― what are you ordering? I wanna know if― Maybe―” he trips on his words, full-on doubt, while you watch him with an amused smile.

“Wanna take another look at the options?” you suggest. He meets your eyes and nods.

“Yes,” he pouts and you hand him the laminated menu. “Go on and order for yourself, though. Anything you want.”

“Thank you, baby.”

You take a couple more seconds to appreciate your boyfriend, his eyebrows furrowed while his eyes go from one choice to the other. The navy blue button-up makes him look a bit older but his messy hair gives away his inexperienced heart. Even with his wandering hands, there’s innocence in the way he loves you― in the way he lets himself be loved. He’s greedy and demanding and wanting, but so tender. Soft. Yearning.

You wonder how long will your heart keep fluttering for him as it does now. Sighing, you hope the answer is forever.

He is, after all, your new favourite too.

[blessyourhondahurley]

Suptober day 8 - Memories Are Made of This

As the screen goes all wiggly after How Could I Forget? we cut to a high school flashback. Will our star-crossed lovers beat the odds?

Suptober prompt: Satanic Panic Flufftober prompt: Rainy Day

(Read on AO3)

“Dean. Hey. Dude, are you drooling?”

Charlie's voice cuts through his gauzy daydream like a hot scalpel. He shakes himself alert, blinking rapidly as his eyes and his mind struggle to refocus on his dreary surroundings. Third period biochem. Rainy day. Middle of nowhere, Kansas. Ugh.

His bestie continues to lay into him in a hissed whisper. “You need to wake up! You haven't been paying attention to anything Mr. Singer has written on the board, and he already told us it's all gonna be on the test next week!! Where's your head today?” She narrows her eyes and gives him the look that always makes him feel like she's corkscrewing right into his brain. “You're not still thinking about that Novak kid, are you?”

He tries. He really does. He doesn't flinch, doesn't fidget, doesn't drop his eyes. “Nah,” he drawls, putting what he hopes is the exact right amount of casual disinterest into that single lying syllable.

She doesn't buy his act for a second. “Bull. Shit,” she replies, smacking him on the shoulder. “You are. Dean! I told you, that one is not for you! Between your Led Zep shirts and our weekend D&D games, his parents would call an exorcist if they found out he was even talking to you!”

“Oh come on, Red,” he protests weakly. “The Satanic Panic died out in the 80's.”

Charlie gives him a dark look. “Not in the Novak household, it didn't. I'm serious, Dean. Those blue eyes may be super dreamy, but he is more trouble than he's worth. Trust and believe. Now settle down, focus, and catch up!” She points furiously up at the whiteboard, which Mr. Singer is continuing to fill with blocky, crabbed lettering, and then down at his blank notebook.

Dean sighs and picks up his pen.

~~~~~~~~

Everybody at the school knows about the Novaks, Lawrence High's very own pack of homegrown Cullens. They're an unwieldy gaggle of siblings, almost too many to count. Well-dressed, God-fearing, condescending little pricks, the lot of 'em. They keep themselves to themselves, and everyone else appreciates the favor. Nobody in their right mind would ever try to date one of them.

Except.

Except...

Except Castiel Novak, the baby of the family, with his eyes as blue as the sky and his messy black hair and his voice like a rake being dragged across concrete? He smiles at Dean, laughs at his jokes. They sit side-by-side in fifth period study hall now, and Dean's grades have dropped almost half a point since the new seating charts were drawn up, because he doesn't get a damn bit of studying done in that hour.

He's completely fucking smitten, is the thing. It's disgusting. But Charlie's right: he doesn't have a chance with someone like Castiel. The Novaks are bible study, violin lessons, honor roll. Dean's cheeseburgers, greasy carburetors, ripped jeans. So what if they have a blast hanging out every afternoon when they're supposed to be doing their homework? So what if Dean shakes sometimes with how much he wants to take Cas's hand, kiss his lips, touch his skin? It'll never happen, and that's a fact.

And then one Friday in March, just as they're all gathering up their books and backpacks to head to sixth period, Cas hands him a folded-up piece of notebook paper and runs out of the room. When Dean opens it up, he sees the question that will determine the course of the rest of his life:

DO YOU WANT TO GO TO SPRING FORMAL WITH ME

YES          NO

This fic concludes here...

[iwaoiness]

Cliché

"K-Kyaa!" She shrieks as she falls backwards into the void, onto those dangerous, sloping stairs. A tall, strong boy, runs swiftly to her aid, reaching out his arms to catch the delicate body, embracing her once she was in his protection.

"Wow, what a fright! Are you all right?" He asks and the girl turns her face at him, blushing as she sees herself reflected in those sea eyes that even sparkle as he observes how beautiful she is.

"Y-yes..." She murmurs, both losing themselves in each other's gaze, both opening the box of love.

Or that's what Oikawa would have paid to have happen to him.

Iwaizumi continues to sip his apple juice, his expressionless gaze fixed on the inerne, face-down body of his best friend at the foot of the stairs where he just fell (fortunately, he only jumped from the bottom two steps). He sighs as the seconds pass and Tooru still doesn't move even a finger, finally deciding to walk down the stairs towards him.

"Oi, are you dead?" He asks, gently kicking his body with the toe of his shoe.

" ... No, unfortunately." He mutters, slowly raising his head, thus showing his shadowed face, with a noticeable reddish hue marked on his forehead and nose due to the blow.

"I told you it wouldn't be a good idea." He reminds him, returning to sipping his drink.

"Shut up, Iwa-chan, I felt it!"

He sighs in frustration, sitting down on the cold floor, rubbing his forehead before pulling out the sheet of paper he has stashed in his pocket. He opens it and with a grimace, reads the third cliché of is Top10 romance clichés for finding your soulmate or die trying.

3. Falling from somewhere high and getting caught by the crush.

"Shit, why didn't Aoyama-senpai cross this area? She always passes through here at this time to go to his damn basket club! What made her change her damn way today?!" He speaks angrily, glaring at the list as if it were to blame for all his misfortunes.

"Why didn't you look before you fell?"

"I had to fall backwards and then turn around in mid-air to make it look like it was accidental! How do you want me to fall facing forward?! Anyone could tell for miles that I was faking it! And why didn't you warn me, Iwa-chan?!" He points his finger accusingly at him from the ground and Iwaizumi rolls his eyes before squatting down in front of him.

"Because this fucking plan was as likely to fail as all the other bullshit you've done." He explains calmly, arching an eyebrow as he recalls the others items of his stupid list that ended in utter failure, such as the fated collision when turning a corner (Tooru ended up hitting the most annoying sensei in Kitagawa Daiichi and was punished with extra cleaning services for two weeks) or the faked fainting in the middle of the courtyard so senpai would carry him (Tooru ended up being carried by a nervous and very worried Kindaichi).

"How rude, Iwa-chan, playing with the feelings of a poor sensitive boy who just wants to look for true love!" He squeals with fake crocodile tears peeking out of his eyes, too round and too pretty for his own good.

"Cut it out, Shitykawa, you don't suit that stupid shojo protagonist attitude at all."

"Hell, I thought it did." He's back to his grumpy pout in the blink of an eye and Iwaizumi snatches his list from him, rereading it over and seeing the sheer number of lines drawn over each scene, discarding them.

All but one.

He reads it and his eyes sparkled momentarily.

"Oikawa."

"If you're going to keep disrespecting me, don't bother, Iwa-chan."

"You've got one more to prove."

"What?" He arches an eyebrow in intrigue now, leaning in very close to his best friend to read his sheet. "Which one?"

"This one." Hajime drops the paper and takes Tooru's chin, lifting his face to him and then planting his lips on his in an apple juice-flavoured kiss that leaves Oikawa wide-eyed and breath catching in his throat.

It's a few seconds, but enough to completely altered Oikawa, who feels his cheeks burning and his heart stuttering inside his chest because Iwa-chan is kissing me, Iwa-chan is kissing me, IWA-CHAN IS FUCKING KISSING ME.

And when they break apart, Iwaizumi slowly opens his eyes, revealing that amazing mixture of gold and moss that now shines in a whole new light for Tooru. Hajime gets up from the ground and hides one of his hands in his trouser pocket as if nothing is wrong while his other hand continues to hold his juice.

"Hurry up, Sillykawa, break is going to be over soon."

Tooru continues on the ground, blinking owlishly and gaping in a rather comical expression as his best friend (his fucking best friend who just fucking kissed him on the fucking mouth) walks away back to the building.

"Wh-what... What was that?!" He finally bursts out, waking up from his shock. He hurries up from the ground to run over to his friend. "Hey, Iwa-chan, wait for me! W-why did you do that?! You were supposed to corner me against the wall before the kiss! Kabedon is the cliché of clichés! You stole my first kiss in such a crappy way, I won't forgive you! Are you listening to me, Iwa-chan?! Iwa-chan!"

He doesn't think it was weird. He doesn't think it was disgusting. He doesn't think that it was horrible. Oikawa just think that Hajime's lips aren't as dry as they look, that they're soft and full, and that there's something about them that makes his heart do that strange doki-doki.

He doesn't know if falling in love with your childhood best friend is a cliché, but he plans to find out, write it down on his stupid list, and stick to it.

...

i love dramatikawa sm

u can find me on my ao3 🍉

[luvsellie]

UP IN FLAMES [e. williams]

pairing ellie x fem!reader

summary out on a patrol, you and ellie encounter some infected trapped in a grocery store, blocking the exit to the roof

warnings violence, infected

wc 1.2k

note the amount of times i’ve edited this-

“shit, that’s a lot of infected,” you grounded out, reaching for the pistol tucked into the back of your jeans. the amount of living corpses stalking around the aisles of an abandoned grocery store was not a light number.

“we’ll need a plan to take out this many,” your patrol partner whispered beside you, her freckled face drawn into a scowl as she began reloading her hunting rifle.

“i know,” you said, not taking your eyes off of a runner that limped past you and ellie a few meters away.

the both of you grew quiet when ellie pointed at a bloater, its silhouette not moving inside what used to be a baked goods aisle. neither of you were looking forward to dealing with it anytime soon.

“we need to deal with the bloater first, try to lure it and as many other infected as we can into a single area. then, we use a molotov, or any other explosive, to kill them,” ellie said, her line of sight trained on the older infected figure.

you squinted in the low light, eyes caught on a rope that hung from the gaping hole in the ceiling. idea beginning to spark, you tugged on ellie’s jacket, motioning to the rope. “why don’t we just climb? we could take them out from above.”

ellie looked from the rope to you, clearly unconvinced. “there’s a higher chance of us dying than living through that.”

“but that’s why it’ll work, so we can brag to dina and jesse about our amazing luck,” you told her enthusiastically, already thinking of the reactions you’d receive for pulling off something so dangerous.

ellie looked from you to the rope. you could tell she was weighing the options available. a few seconds ticked by before she finally said, “mm, alright. but don’t die. i still haven’t had the chance to paint you.” the seriousness on her face almost made you laugh.

nodding, you said, “i won’t die, don’t worry.”

ellie could only give you a pointed look in return before motioning to follow her. she quietly led the two of you past a few clickers, the only sound in the room that of what the infected were making. fortunately, it didn’t take long to reach the rope you had pointed out prior, and when ellie finally grabbed hold of it, she yanked it downwards, hard, trying to figure out if it would hold both your weights.

holding your breath in anticipation, you watched as ellie tugged it for the second time. a scraping noise came from above, making the two of you grip your weapons tightly and look up.

the rope seemed to be attached to a loose chunk of metal, an object you couldn’t pinpoint from so far down. ellie looked from the ceiling to you, her expression telling you that the whole thing was too risky.

fuck, you mentally cursed, beginning to look around for another option. in addition to being stuck in an abandoned grocery store, you were also entirely surrounded by infected. how you hadn’t been eaten alive yet, you had no idea. and you really didn’t feel like testing the amount of luck the universe was giving you today.

once again, ellie motioned for you to follow her, this time away from the rope, and over to an empty aisle. just as you had taken your third step forward, another scraping sound came from up above, making your eyes shoot upwards.

a scraggly-looking man peered down at you from the hole in the ceiling. he looked from you to the rope attached to the hunk of metal, and he slowly started to process what you both were trying to do. a grin appeared on his face, and your stomach dropped when he looked from you and ellie to the infected just meters away.

you began shaking your head promptly, silently begging him not to make noise and push the piece of metal down into the store. but, of course, the man had other ideas of his own.

he started to push the object closer to the edge, and you felt ellie grab your hand and start to pull. you understood that your chances of getting out of the building alive just shrunk by at least seventy percent.

ellie yanked you out of the streaming sunlight and over to the dark empty aisle you had been heading toward just before the man had poked his head through the hole. she leaned down slightly beside you, pressing her mouth to your right ear. “when he pushes that thing down, wait for the infected to gather in one area. once they do, we can throw a few molotov’s at them, alright?”

nodding, you looked back at the man. the metal was scraping loudly against the roof’s surface and the infected around you were stirring, heads held high as they started to scatter around in search of the source. their constant chittering started to become loud.

you and ellie shrunk back against the wall as far as you possibly could, trying to make your bodies somehow disappear into nothing. the pistol in your hand was heavy, and you wanted to use it desperately. if not on the infected then on the man deciding to play with your life.

looking up, you cringed when you locked eyes with the man. he smiled at you as he gave the metal box one last push, and you sucked in a breath as the chunk of metal fell from the sky. the sound of a mini explosion echoed through the store, and you watched as the infected, bloater included, screeched obstreperously and half limped-half ran to the area the crash had occurred.

index finger ghosting the trigger of your 9mm, you leaned against ellie. no matter how many times you went on patrol, you still hated being around any type of infected.

the clickers and runners shrieked as they ran, and the bloater let out a roar of its own as it stiffly traveled with the crowd. laughing on the roof, the man gave you and ellie a mocking salute before he disappeared, leaving you both to deal with the mess and havoc he had created.

ellie swung her bag around, grabbing an already-made molotov and lighter. flicking on the lighter, she looked over at you, holding the small flame near the cloth sticking out of the bottle. “ready?”

you nodded furiously, jutting your chin in the direction of the infected. ellie then turned away from you, standing just enough to rear her arm back and throw the bottle with all her might.

the molotov shattered against the side of the bloater, and another wave of screams echoed in your ears as fire exploded in front of you. the runners and clickers started to claw at their faces and bodies, skin beginning to go up in flames. the bloater, who had taken most of the hit, was already on his knees, and you thanked the universe, once again, for the extra bit of luck in allowing the bloater to be taken down with a single molotov.

as the screams began dying away, you and ellie finally stood to your full heights, guns gripped tightly. you were the one to lead the way this time, despite the fact that you were still on edge about what had just happened. ellie followed, and both your firearms were pointed downwards, bullets waiting to be fired at any movement that wasn’t small twitches.

exhaling, you lowered your gun, finding no moving infected. you turned towards ellie, who looked just as relieved as you did. “let’s get the fuck out of here.”

[about-faces]

So which Twoface scarred design do you like based on anesthetics the most? And any theories about the variety of colors, like do any play into color theory or any meaning, or are just limited to printed color limitations/artist sole interpretation?

This would have been a much shorter answer if you hadn’t added the second part. But I’m glad you did, because I love talking about this shit! 

While I do have certain… shall we say, opinionated preferences for my ideal design for the scarring, my taste is dependent on SO many different factors. Since you brought up color limitations, let’s start there, because that speaks to a certain aesthetic of Two-Face that I love. 

First, let’s talk about the basic design, the gold standard of the Golden Age. The very first appearance of Two-Face has served as the model for how the scarring's looked ever since. The iconic features include a permanent snarl, a bulging eye, a wilder hairstyle with differently colored hair, and different coloring from his unscarred flesh. Every version of Two-Face since has either followed or subverted this original depiction. 

(Note: I could also go on a whole tangent about how this design MAY have been based on a poster for the 1941 film adaptation of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, which I’ve recently had reason to suspect may be bogus for reasons related to the complicated history of Batman’s supposed “creator” Bob Kane, but that’s several other essays worth a material. And that’s not even taking into account who actually drew this original comic, whether it was the credited Kane, or Jerry Robinson and/or George Roussos. The history of Golden Age comics is rife with controversy, plagiarism, and bullshit, with Batman being no exception.)

For roughly 50 years, this was, more or less, the standard version of Two-Face. Even as DC evolved through different eras of “House Styles” where all art had to maintain a certain consistency, this design underwent very little variation over five decades. While his scarring would occasionally be depicted as gray or off-purple or even flesh toned, it usually stuck to the original choice of green. 

Why green? Why would a man who suffered an acid attack have green scarring? Putting aside questions of realism (which have little place in the world of comics), the reasoning was tied to those specific issues you raised about printed color limitations. The history of comic book coloring is absolutely fascinating, when companies had to rely on printers to produce the cheapest possible product on a regular deadline. 

These printers (supposedly backed by organized crime) published comics on newsprint with the four-color CYMK color model, and comic artists had to work within these limitations. This led to some interesting color-coding for heroes and villains in superhero books, with the heroes depicted in primary colors like red, yellow, and blue, and the villains being depicted in secondary colors like orange, purple, and green. As you’ll note, Harvey’s design uses all three of those secondary colors, appropriately enough for a man obsessed with twos. 

To this day, these colors are what are used for classic, “retro” depictions of Two-Face, which you can still see on merchandise today. As such, I have great affection for this basic design with these colors, especially when they appear on newsprint with the visible newsprint dots.Over the past couple decades, we’ve seen comics companies reprint these classic stories with cleaned-up, “remastered” artwork. As time has gone by, I’ve come to dislike this treatment of older comics, which were specifically drawn for a period where coloring and printing options were strictly limited. Removing those limitations with computer coloring only seems to make the linework appear more dated, at least to my eye. 

For example, take one of my personal favorites, the third chapter of “A Lonely Place of Dying.” On the left is the current, cleaned-up version, while the other is a scan from a long-defunct tumblr user jthener-comics-vault who emphasized the newsprint dots and yellowed newspaper. 

Some may prefer the version on the left, but I strongly prefer the version on the right. There’s just so much more aesthetic appeal with the second version to my eye. The version on the right looks dated, while the version on the left looks timeless because of how it embraced a certain retro aesthetic. Your mileage may vary, but that’s where I’m at with my taste preferences. 

(See also: the recent revival of interest in CRT TV screens with classic video games, discussed in this popular post about how games were designed for the limitations of older TVs, and how current pixel graphics don’t look right in comparison. Given how there’s now a whole Reddit community dedicated to CRT TV pixel graphics, I’d love to see people embrace classic comics in the same way. But alas, the people who care about such things are literally a dying breed, as most comics fans seemingly don’t have much interest in anything beyond the past decade or so.) 

So if you’re talking purely aesthetics within the classic limitations of comics, I consider the version on the left to be my platonic ideal for a perfect Two-Face. It’s not because the linework of the scarring is anything special (as much as I worship the late, great Jim Aparo, his Two-Face scarring looks like Harvey dipped himself into some creamed spinach), but because the scarring fits the overall aesthetic of the printing techniques of a bygone era. 

So that would be ONE example of my preferred take on the scarring, with a specific version that emphasizes his classic newsprint roots. But it’s not the only one, because those limitations were soon expanded by the 1990’s, with advances in printing quality and coloring techniques. On top of that, DC started hiring artists for stories far outside their usual “House Style,” which led to all manner of weird and varied interpretations of characters like Two-Face, depending on the story. In fact, his appearance–along with his personality, motivations, and even his own backstory–would change drastically from one appearance to the next. His scarring alone could be green, pink, red, blue, purple, or some variation of the above! And that’s not even taking into account the pen-and-ink linework choices! 

This finally brings me to your original question of which version of the scarring I prefer. While I still love the classic retro take on the character as well as stylized “dark deco” versions like his appearance in Batman: The Animated Series, there are certain traits I look for in modern depictions of Two-Face. These preferences were undoubtedly informed by the fact that I saw Sam Raimi’s Darkman as a young teen and fell in love with the prosthetic makeup effects by Chet Zar and Toni Gardner, who created a viscerally horrifying template for what I wanted to see used for Harvey Dent ever since.

So these days, when it comes to what I really want to see in the scarring?  At this risk of being too graphic, I like the flesh to be stretched and warped, the lips and eyelids peeled back and exposed. I also STRONGLY prefer there be no clear line down the middle between the scarred and unscarred sides. There should be some sense of integration between the sides, rather than two separate faces–one realistic and one cartoonish–slapped together. Some of my favorite examples include Alex Ross and Doug Braithwhaite’s Harvey cameo from Justice #2 and Brad Walker and Doug Hennessey’s from “Ugly Heart.”

Basically, I prefer a style that’s evocative of movie-style body horror, adding realism without being realistic.He should appear shocking while simultaneously looking like someone who has suffered, and continues to do so. It should compliment (but NOT play up) the good/evil dichotomy, without veering into cartoonishness. Doing that leads to him being treated as more of a gimmick crook rather than a three-dimensional character. 

Again, we’re talking my own personal preference here. As a character, Two-Face represents different things to different people. When creating the story Batman: Faces, artist Matt Wagner wanted Harvey’s scarring to be red because it emphasized the “devil inside” motif. For many people, Two-Face is a character who conveys the evil within normalcy. Fair enough. 

But for me, I like red because it looks like exposed flesh and tissue, emphasizing the raw pain Harvey has and must endure. I prefer when the scarring emphasizes tones of flesh and blood, like reds, pinks, and purples. I loved the blue scarring of Batman: The Animated Series on its own merits, but it only works within that specifically stylized “dark deco” context. 

And when it comes purely to linework design, I think my ideal model would be the work of sculptor Andy Bergholtz, who not only designed a bust I will never afford despite dearly wanting, but who also created an incredible pumpkin carving of Two-Face which, weirdly enough, endures as one of my favorite depictions of the character. 

Notice how Bergholtz doesn’t draw a distinct line between the two sides, but instead shows how the flesh stretches and warps from one side to the next. It looks painful, while also being perfectly integrated with the rest of the head. Hell, even the choice to go with the classic green coloring works, because of how it looks sickly and gangrenous! It still looks fleshy, even with the comic-book-y coloring choice!

These sculptures are my baseline for how Harvey’s scarring should ideally look. But at the end of the day, the scarring is only one factor I look for when it comes to depictions of Two-Face. It’s how the scarring looks with his unscarred side, especially if the artist actually chooses to DO something interesting with Harvey’s face rather than just depict him as a Bland White Dude or Generic Gangster. It’s also how both sides of his face look in whatever he’s wearing, how they’re drawn in the linework, how they’re colored and depicted on paper and/or online scans. So many factors go into making/breaking Two-Face, just as they do with pretty much every other comic character who has existed for decades at this point.

But ultimately, none of that matters to me as much as the writing. Harvey could look absolutely terrible in the artwork, and I wouldn’t care so long as the writing treats him with empathy and compassion. Still, I appreciate you giving me this opportunity to reacquaint myself with his aesthetics, which I’ve too long disregarded because–for many–that’s all they see when they think about Two-Face. Not as a three-dimensional character, but as a walking pile of aesthetics. But it's nice to revisit those aesthetics as a reminder of why he's continued to endure as an iconic character for eight decades.

[ladylooch]

Letter in Your Last Name - Chapter 4

A/N: Oh shit, the way I almost forgot to post this today.. when it's the best one because SMUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Also, I am using google translate here... which doesn't actually do Swiss German translations, so I have to settle for German... Forgive any inconsistencies.

Word Count: 4.1k

It’s been just over a month since our first date and things with Kevin have just gotten better with time. Every night he is in town, I sneak out to spend time with him whether we meet up at a restaurant or I find myself in his apartment. It doesn’t matter what we are doing, just being together is enough. Each time I see his smiling face when we reunite, I fall a little bit further into lust with him. He’s so captivating and interesting with his genuine personality and international experience. His stories keep me entranced but his lips are enough to make me come undone. It didn’t take long after our first date before I found myself breathless from pleasure under Kevin’s naked body. That man can talk me into just about anything.

Tonight, the Minnesota Wild are playing the Nashville Predators and I know how hopeful Kevin is to have a good game. The hardest part about keeping our relationship under the radar has been our interactions at the rink. It’s hard to not feel drawn to him when I know he is in the next room over or down on the ice in front of 18,000 fans. Part of me wonders if I’m setting us up for failure by keeping this from my brother. The other part of me remembers Alex’s clear message to me weeks ago: stay away. Yes, this is what feels best for now until I have a better understanding of where this is going. With the season quickly coming to a close, maybe that will be the end of this. My heart drops in disappointment at just the thought.

Sawyer and I hold hands as we walk into the Xcel Energy Center in Downtown St. Paul. The building is electric with promise as we compete against another rival in our division. The Wild are still in contention to make the playoffs and St. Paul is buzzing with anticipation. We work our way to the family section of the lower bowl and find our seats. Alex isn’t starting tonight, so we are comfortable sitting with the general populous.

The players are leaving the ice after warm ups and my eyes find Kevin as he shoots his last few pucks. The chin strap of his helmet dangles down and moves in the wind as he hustles a few final strides around the ice before going to the bench. He looks focused tonight and I smile knowingly. This could be a big game for him.

The puck drops ten minutes later and the action is instant. The boys are shoving each other into the boards with hard checks, shooting quick shots at each goaltender and racing for every loose puck. It’s a hockey fan’s dream to watch them battle evenly from end to end. The Predators score first and I scowl in annoyance. Dubnyk looks soft tonight and he should of had that one. The first one is quickly followed by a second and a third- all within four minutes of each other. The hometown crowd gets restless and I eye the bench expectantly. Alex is reaching for his helmet and I know he’s going in.

“Come on Al. Change the pace.” I encourage him as he enters the space between the pipes.

“Go daddy!” Sawyer bounces excitedly next to me.

Now that Alex is in net, the Wild seem to settle more into their game. Their passes are sharper, shots more direct, and feet reacting quicker to changes in the play. In the second period, Kevin is straddling the blue line expectantly as the puck comes to the Predator’s defenseman. The D misses the puck and Kevin bursts through to grab it, zoning in on the net. He stays to the left side, jukes the defenseman and rips a shot low, blocker side. A distinct thud reaches our ears in the arena. I jump up in response. Kevin’s celebratory yell is so loud, I can hear him from where we sit.

“Yes!” I yell, clapping excitedly and watching as his line mates engulf him. Kevin chews on his mouth guard with a big smile on his face as his teammates hug him. Soon, he is off to the celebratory handshake line by the bench. “Good job, babe.” I murmur to him. Felicia gives me a knowing look and we both grin. His big night is beginning to formulate.

By the third period, the Wild have brought the game within 1. The last few minutes are gripping anxiety as Alex makes a couple big saves to hold the deficit at one. I push out an anxious breath, rubbing my hands together as Coach Boudreau calls Alex to the bench. The face-off is in the Nashville zone. Eric Staal wins the draw cleanly to his left wing- Kevin. Kevin pulls the puck back and rips a hard shot cross bar down behind Pekka Rinne to tie the game.

“Kevin!!!!” I scream in excitement, jumping up and down with Felicia. Zach Parise mobs Kevin and the crowd goes crazy in celebration.

A two goal night against the team that traded him weeks ago because they had given up on him. He couldn’t have asked for a better night. The game ends in a shoot out in which the Wild end up winning after yet another Mikko Koivu goal in the top corner. The team rushes to the ice to greet Alex. He came in and set a new pace for the game, allowing for this comeback to ensue. What a night for both my Wild players!

Felicia and I gather the kids and begin our journey to the family lounge to wait for Alex.

“Are you heading to Kevin’s?” Felicia asks me as she picks an exhausted Serena up.

“Probably.” I shrug, “ I can’t imagine he doesn’t want to see me.”

“I’m sure he wants to see a lot of you.” She wiggles her brows.

We enter the lounge, which is buzzing with excitement. I release Sawyer from my grip and he sprints over to where he knows the cookies are kept. I shake my head in response. That little dude loves sugar. After a handful of popcorn, I slide over to a high top table, waiting while Felicia chats with Zach’s wife, Alisha. I pop kernels into my mouth one by one and watch the door expectantly. It doesn’t take long before my Swiss prince enters with slightly damp hair. His eyes meet mine and he gives me a reserved smile before heading in my direction.

“Great game!” I say to Kevin as he walks towards us. Normally, if players don’t have family waiting, they leave directly from the locker room. Kevin has been sneaking in after each game to see me briefly before Alex is done getting dressed.

“Thanks, babe.” Kevin stops and I give him a questioning glare. He returns my glare with a suggestive look up and down while I widen my eyes at him. “What? You said Felicia knows.” He tilts his hands up.

“I do and I approve.” She laughs, “Kids, let’s go get a snack and watch for daddy. Great game, Kevin.” She wanders behind us to the snack table where Sawyer eyes his second cookie greedily.

“You looked so good out there today… you’re really finding your place with the team.” I encourage him with a small smile. “It’s like you belong here or something.”

“Well, when you’ve got someone important watching it makes a difference.” He winks. I roll my eyes but smile at him. “Come over tonight.” He whispers, stepping a smidge closer to me. “I think we should celebrate.”

“That seems like the right thing to do.” I encourage, biting my lip suggestively and glancing towards the door. Still no Alex. I step in even closer to Kevin, taking note that nobody seems to be looking at us. “Maybe you’ll score off the ice tonight too.”

“I’m betting on it.” He doesn’t miss a beat when he responds. My cheeks warm in response and a soft glow tingles in my stomach. The look he is giving me almost makes me forget that my brother could walk in any second… almost.

“Okay superstar. You better go.” I jerk my head towards the door. “I’ll be over soon.”

“Hurry.” He tells me as he walks away. As Kevin is leaving, Alex enters. I watch from across the room as my brother slaps Kevin on the back with a huge grin.

“Thanks for the help tonight, bud! Fucking stud.” Kevin smiles in response and says something I can’t hear before he disappears from the room.

“Thank goodness for the new guy, huh?” I joke to Alex as I make my way over to them.

“Yeah, he is alright I guess.” Alex shrugs nonchalantly with a smile. The OT win has given him a boost and he doesn’t even seem concerned about me bringing up Kevin. “We should celebrate with some drinks when we get home. Maybe grasshoppers?”

“I can’t. I’m meeting a friend for a late drink.” I tell him, reaching for my keys and attempting to get out of here with as few questions as possible.

“Geez, who is this friend you’re always meeting?” Alex rolls his eyes.

“It’s Rachel.” I lie, speaking of my high school best friend.

“That’s weird that she stays out so late since she’s a teacher.” Alex shakes his head. “Whatever. I don’t understand single girls in the city, I guess. Have fun and be safe.”

“Have fun.” Felicia wiggles her brows at me with a knowing smile. “I don’t need you tomorrow, so stay out as long as you need.” I give her a grateful smile and head out of the family lounge towards my car.

When I get to Kevin’s building, I call his number and he immediately buzzes me in. I take the elevator to the 15th floor and laugh when the elevator doors open and he’s peeking his head into the hallway, looking for me.

“Needy.” I murmur jokingly as I reach him. He wraps his arms around me and crashes his lips to mine in a deep kiss.

“This is what I wanted to do when I saw you earlier.” He nuzzles his nose to mine and I bite at his lip, tugging it towards me suggestively.

“You were amazing tonight.” I breathe to him. “Seriously, Kev, you’re turning into a whole different player. I’m so proud of you.” We’ve talked extensively about his struggles in Nashville and his goals for himself as his career progresses. Tonight, he took a step in the right direction.

“Thank you.” He kisses my lips again softly. “Come inside.” He tugs at my hand and I follow him in willingly. “Do you want something to drink? I got some beer.” He pokes his head into the fridge and pulls out a bottle of New Belgium Fat Tire. “I don’t know much about American beer still, but the guy at the store said this is a popular one.” He looks at the label then shrugs, handing me the bottle.

“This is great.” I confirm to him, “We need a bottle opener though.” He holds a finger up and walks over to a different drawer and then cracks the beer open for me. I bring the bottle to my lips and take a sip. A soft moan of approval escapes my mouth as I savor the amber liquid. There is just something about a good beer that hits the spot. “Did your family watch the game?” I wonder, setting my eyes on him.

“Um.. I’m not sure.” He responds after he takes a long pull of his beer.

“I guess it was a little late there, but hopefully they caught one of your goals.”

“… yeah.”

“You’ll hear from them when they do I suppose.” I nod my head, taking another intentional sip of my beer.

“Mhm.”

“Kev…” I say to him, noticing he is looking at me intently but doesn’t seem to be engaged in our conversation. He gives his head a slight shake then meets my gaze with a heat that has my hair standing on end.

“I’m having a hard time focusing on anything else but your lips on that bottle.”

“Oh?” I ask innocently. I slowly run my tongue along the rim of the bottle, keeping my eyes locked on his.

“Sam.” Kevin growls out in a warning, “unless you want to get fucked on this counter, I suggest you put your tongue back into your mouth.” My eyes widen in response to his words. Just to tease him, and because getting fucked is what we both know I came here for, I run my tongue along the rim one last time, then close my lips over the top to take a sip.

Kevin grabs the beer from my lips. He places it on the island and grabs my face in both of his hands. His lips connect with mine roughly. I feel myself melt into his body, placing my hands on his chest and pulling him closer by his suit jacket. His hands move down to the small of my back as his tongue slides against my bottom lip. I open my mouth to him and our tongues tangle. Kevin moans in response and steps closer, pushing me tighter against the island. I can feel his erection pressing into my thigh and desire pools deep inside my belly, twisting and aching to be released.

“I want you so fucking bad.” Kevin whispers as he pulls away, kissing a trail to my jaw and then down to my neck. His lips hit the sweet spot behind my ear and I whimper. My eyes roll back into my head as he sucks deeper, his hands sliding back up my rib cage to rest under my breasts.

“Then have me.” I encourage him, looking into his brown eyes and practically drowning in the lust within them. A large, grin spreads slowly across his face as he looks at me through hooded lids. He bites his lip briefly before sliding his hands to the back of my thighs. He lifts me onto the counter and spreads my legs apart, stepping between them and grabbing the back of my head. Our lips come together in a needy, wet kiss. My heart is pounding in anticipation of what is to come.

I reach for the button closing his suit jacket, easily popping it open and shoving the material from his shoulders. Next are the buttons on his dress shirt, which I fumble with briefly because my hands are slightly shaky from the rush of adrenaline. Kevin pulls away as I get the last button undone. I spread my hands across his broad chest, sliding my fingers across his pecs then down to his abs, appreciating the view of his muscular body. I gnaw on my lip, glancing into his eyes before reaching for his belt. I unclip it and Kevin’s eyes go black as my fingers work the button of his pants open. I slip my hands into the waistband of his boxer briefs and grab ahold of his hot, hard shaft.

Kevin sucks air into his teeth quickly as I run my finger over the head of his penis. He reaches for me again, crashing our lips together in a desperate kiss that I feel straight between my legs. Kevin tugs me to the edge of the island, grabbing the hem of my shirt and pulling it up. I release him from my grasp and allow for my shirt to come off. His fingers are already on the clasp of my bra and quickly, I’m topless in front of him. He doesn’t pause at all before his hands are cupping my breasts. His thumbs teasingly trace the edges of my nipples before going to the center of the hard tip. I moan and let my head tilt back in appreciation.

“Is that good, baby?” He asks me, pausing his movements. “Tell me what you like.”

“I like that.” I whimper, begging him to continue.

“Mmm, how about this?” He says as his head comes down, sucking my nipple into his mouth. I moan louder, wrapping my legs around his waist to pull our bodies tighter together.

“Yes.” I hiss out to him. My hand comes up to the back of his head, holding him to me as his mouth works me over. He trails kisses to the other nipple and sucks that one into his mouth as well. His fingers find the button on my jeans and he pops it open, tugging at the zipper as well. His fingers slide in, moving my panties to the side and his fingers find my clit, rubbing in slow, delicious circles.

“Oh fuck.” I tell him as he smiles against my nipple. “That’s g-good.” I sigh out, head rolling back as he caresses me.

“You taste so damn good, Sam.” He tells me as he pulls away. “Now I want to taste you here.” He says as he slides his thumb against my clit harder.

“Please.” I beg. He nods, shaking his dress shirt off and stepping out of his pants. He pulls my jeans down my hips and off my legs. The cool marble of his counter hits my ass and I barely care as he moves my thong to the side, his eyes taking me in.

“I’ve been dreaming about this all damn day. Now, I get to have you.” He smirks as he lifts my hips off the counter. His eyes don’t leave mine as his mouth meets my sensitive flesh. I suck in a quick breath as his tongue rolls over my clit. I know I won’t last long as he laps at me. Holy fucking shit, he is good. at. this.

“Ahhh.” I whimper out as he works me over. His finger traces my opening as he moves his tongue in a continuous rhythm. One finger slides into my wet entrance and I can feel the first waves of orgasm coming to me.

“Come on, baby.” Kevin encourages me. My muscles clench as he begins to suck me harder, his finger curving to just the right spot inside of me. I come undone instantly. My ears are ringing and my vision is blurry as he sucks every last drop of orgasm out of me. When he pulls away, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smiling at the look on my face.

“Holy shit.” I whisper to him as he gathers me into his arms. I wrap my shaking legs around his waist as he carries me down the hall to his bedroom. “That was… incredible.” I bury my face in his shoulder, feeling his chuckle rumble through his body.

“Wait til I get inside of you.” I moan into his skin, pressing my lips against his collarbone and following it to the crook of his neck. I suck his skin into my mouth, releasing just before hickey territory.

Kevin places me softly onto his bed. He reaches for my underwear and slowly pulls it off of my legs. He tosses it on the floor and walks to his bedside table. I watch as he pulls the foil wrapper of a condom out of the drawer. He reaches for his underwear and I grab his hands, moving them aside to do it myself. His erection juts out hard and in charge. Kevin reaches for the condom and I take it from him. I grab ahold of his penis, licking my lips and then taking him into my mouth.

“Fuck, Sam.” Kevin moans to me as I circle the tip with my tongue. I give him a gently tug and suck him to the roof of my mouth. He reaches for my hair, pulling it back from my face so he can watch me take him all the way in. “God damn.” He coughs or laughs in pleasure and then moans deep in his chest as I move my hands and my mouth in rhythm. “Just like that, baby.” He tells me. I smile, enjoying how much he talks and moans during sex. I continue this rhythm- sucking, and rolling my tongue and hand over him.

“Baby, you have to stop otherwise I’m going to be done in your pretty mouth.” He warns me, pulling my mouth away from him gently by my hair. “And as much as I’d love that, I need to be inside of you.”

I slide back and open my legs to him, giving him back the condom so he can suit up. I watch as he rolls the thin latex down, then settles between my thighs. I feel him enter me, gradually inching in as he hovers over me, looking down into my face with smoldering brown eyes. When he is all the way in, he stops, leaning down and pressing his lips to mine. His tongue slides into my mouth briefly before he has to pull away to moan.

“Sam, du fühlst dich so gut.” I furrow my eyes inquisitively.

“What?” I say to him, wrapping my hands around his neck as he begins to move.

“Sorry..” He breathes out as his thrusts begin to quicken. “I said you feel so… good.”

He gathers me into his arms tightly as he begins to pound into me faster, harder, deeper. I wrap my legs around his waist loosely, allowing him to move freely in and out. The tension builds almost immediately. He’s so hard and thick and deep that I can’t breathe let alone form any words to respond to him. I open my mouth and a low moan escapes my lips.

“Kev..” I finally say, “don’t stop.” I insist as his hips move in perfect rhythm.

“Couldn’t if I wanted to,” He tells me in a strangled breath. “Fuck, babe, I’m not going to last. Between this and your mouth.. I’m so close.”

I don’t need to tell him the same because I cry out as my second orgasm washes over me. Just like the first, my breath is gone as my muscles clench and squeeze Kevin to his own climax. He grunts and groans one last time as he comes, his arms holding his weight over me as he pumps his hips once more. He tilts his head back, staring at the headboard for a second before his eyes find mine.

I smile shyly at him, reaching for his face and bringing his lips to mine. I close my eyes and lean into the kiss, loving the feeling of this bliss while he is still inside me. Slowly, he grips the edge of the condom and pulls out. He gives me a quick kiss, mumbling he will be right back before moving to the bathroom. I wait silently for him, my chest still rising and falling rapidly. When he returns to the bed, he pulls me up and then tugs the covers down. We settle into each other, still naked as he pulls the comforter back over us. I smile into his bare chest, loving the feel of his arms enclosing me this tight. I could stay like this forever. After several long minutes of loud breathing, Kevin breaks the silence.

“Sorry for the German. I go back to my native languages when I get to a certain level.” He laughs unapologetically. I giggle into his skin, pulling back slightly.

“Good to know. I thought maybe you were talking dirty to me.”

“No… I can if you’re into it.”

“Yeah, say something dirty!” I encourage him, sitting up expectantly. He slides the comforter down my shoulders and shifts slightly away from me.

“Ich liebe deine Brüste” He says, holding my breasts in his hands. “I love your breasts.”

“Ich mag es, dich zum Orgasmus zu bringen” He smiles as I whimper when his thumbs gently brush over my nipples. “I love making you come.”

“Du smakar så gott” He presses his lips to mine gently. “ Swedish for.. You taste so good.” His tongue flicks against my lips and I let him in again. I slide up the bed and straddle him, deepening the kiss. I can feel that he is ready to go beneath me; his erection is dancing along my inner thigh impatiently. When I pull away, breathlessly, to reach for another condom, he chuckles. “So it’s safe to say you’re into that?”

“God, yes.” I tell him. “Now suit up for round 2.”

For the second time that night, Kevin Fiala scores twice.

[ajaxsprettyboy]

Fair Ground Fairytale

Highschool Senior!Beidou x reader

Smut ahead! Gn reader! Fluff and separate smut !

Thank you @1108707 for the idea!

-

You woke up with an annoyed look on your face, “6:30 already? Ugh..” The last quarter of senior year starting off with a bang…literally, your alarm is a cartoonish BANG sound. You tore your sheet and comforter off of your groggy body and began getting ready for the day ahead. By the time you make it down the stairs you realize your parents are gone, at work. They left you a note, ‘off to work, don’t be late!” And then you realized you were running late.

No breakfast this morning but oh well, your car sped down the streets to get to school. You made it just in time to get to class with your things for first period, calculus. “Okay guys so today we have a new student! Give a warm welcome to Shenhe!” Shenhe introduced herself to the class and answered a few questions about herself, you looked over to your seat mate, Beidou, and giggled about all the attention she was getting.

Shenhe wasn’t new to the school, she just decided to move her math classes, it’s not uncommon if you plan on taking a different subject in college, fortunately she had already taken precalc and understood most of the work without needing to do much extra homework. But enough about her the class is over.

Second period was boring, just you and Ningguang doing your science work together. Third period was your first elective, it was quite simple and moved fast. As was fourth, back to back electives are quite easy to do in comparison to the required classes. Fifth period however, was lunch, you sat with Ningguang and Beidou, who sat with Kazuha and Zhongli, who sat with … you get the point, the table was full. Anyway this matters because you and Beidou were squished together.

You awkwardly laughed at the close proximity, looking over at Beidou, who was laughing and giggling acting as though the cramped space didn’t bother her. She was always like this, making uncomfortable situations more enjoyable. After lunch the rest of your classes flew by without a hitch. Once it was time to leave you grabbed your things and waited for Beidou, you felt a need to say bye to her today. This was odd in her mind but she waved it off as a simple friendly gesture.

‘Did you really just do that? God, you’re lame!’ You thought to yourself as you walked home. You wondered why you acted this way around beidou, but before you could come up with an answer Tartaglia jogged up to you. “Hey [NAME]! Can you watch my siblings for me tonight? I have a track practice to go to and I can’t find a babysitter on such short notice, I promise I’ll pay you for this!” You sighed and agreed, texting your mom you’d be babysitting for a friend tonight. This gave you more time to think though, so that’s a plus!

You walked to Tartaglia’s house, opening the door with the spare key hidden in the plant to the left of the door. Both of his siblings ran up to you and asked where their brother was, and as the night went on you collected a variety of drawings and paper toys for you. All poorly drawn, but very cute.

Once Tartaglia came home he greeted the lot of you and handed you around $100, thanking you for doing this for him. As you walked back home for dinner and to go shower, Beidou texted you. “Hey, do you wanna hang out this weekend? If you’re free we should go to the fair” you smiled, you smiled hard. You tried to respond all cool and calm, “Yeah! I’d love to! What time do you wanna go?” You texted back before having time to think ‘shit I look too excited.. I hope she doesn’t think anything of it.’

Fortunately for you she was in the shower, so by the time you got home, she had only just seen the text. You were eating dinner when she responded, causing you immediately check your phone thus causing your to end up dropping your phone in your food. You sighed and grabbed the food covered phone and wiped it off with a paper towel. You saw what she said, a simple “sorry I was in the shower, around 1 or 2 pm good?” You were so excited! Wait.. is this a date?

“ yeah, sorry lol I was having dinner”

No no

“Yeah! Sorry I’m late, I was eating!”

No too formal

“Yeah, that’s good, and dw I was just eating”

Send?

Hmmm okay…

Aaaand she left you on delivered… fuck.

She probably fell asleep right? Yeah.. maybe her WiFi is just slow.. yeah., just go to sleep [NAME], you still have some days before the weekend.

Morning came and went, Beidou was apparently at a doctors appointment, but she texted you back at lunch time!

“Okay, I’ll drive! And dw I’m not sick, it’s just an annual checkup lol”

Okay okay okay cool cool cool … what do you wear to your … outing?

Okay well maybe you’re overreacting, it’s gonna be hot so just a pair of shorts and a tank top? No too boring.. and that’s all you spent the day thinking about…

The next was spent thinking about what you should and shouldn’t bring with you.

Your week was hell because alle you could think about was your day out with Beidou… wait.. what day of the weekend are you going?

Oh right you already asked her, Saturday.

It’s gonna be hot and sticky but hey it’s gonna be fun! A date with the girl you like! Wait.. you like her? Okay nice you figured it out!

Does Beidou like you though? She has to if she’s asking you to go out with her … it’s just you two so you best enjoy it.

And finally the day came.

You wore your best summer outfit, you brought sunscreen, chapstick, water, money, and an extra pair of sunglasses. Beidou showed up exactly at 1 pm, her car is a convertible, it was a grayish blue. She smiled and opened the passenger door for you. You got in and placed your bag on the floor, greeting her with a smile and made sure to only make eye contact when talking to her.

“You know, if you’re uncomfortable with this being a date it doesn’t have to be,” Beidou says, she must be nervous too. “Oh! Yeah I’d like if it could be a date..” you smiled. She smiled and pulled into a parking spot. She then helped you out of her car, and you walked to the gate holding your things and her hand.

The date went smoothly! You rode rides together, got food together, saw all the farm animals people brought in to be judged, you had fun. But the last thing you did together was go on the Ferris wheel. “I know this is cheesy, but when we get to the top… can I kiss you?” She asked, she was visibly nervous awaiting your answer. You nodded and sat next to her.

And soon enough you were at the top, and you had the best kiss of your life.

And that was the start of your relationship.

Smut section

Three months later she asked you if you wanted to come over her house, over the phone. You obliged, happy to see your girlfriend at any point in time.

Once you made it over, she walked you to her room, things went naturally, you and her watched movies and one thing led to another .. now you’re laying naked on her bed making out with her.

She palmed your sex, watching your reactions, and gradually getting lower , then asking you if she can use her mouth, you agreed, watching as she licked your sex, sucking, licking, spitting, all things your sex was subjected to that night. She then asked you if you were comfortable with touching her, you agreed.

She switched positions with you, you did as she did to you, but you also used your fingers. Fingering her pussy, feeling it spasm around your fingers, she moaned and whined begging you to let her cum. “Go ahead, pretty,” you said while licking her clit. As she let herself cum she squirted all over your face, it was sweet and warm. You began cleaning her up with some tissues, and she left to go get a wet rag to clean the both of you.

Needless to say, one of, if not the, best night of your life.

[sweetestlamb]

Another Bad Idea

Summary: Cha-young tries to get over Vincenzo by getting under someone else. It goes as well as you would expect.

Author's note: What am I even doing here honestly😩😭 someone liked my fic "Bad Idea" today and I started reading it again myself because I missed chayenzo and then I suddenly got this urge to write this....smutty filth instead of doing anything remotely reproductive. I loved how sweet this couple was in the show but honestly low key I kinda wanted them to be psychos in love and rip each other apart (romantically) so I wrote this.

Ultimately she's the one to ruin their arrangement. She's never been able to resist temptation and at first she tries to convince herself that once was enough, she'd gotten it out of her system.

Except when he loosens his tie in the office and it's just them- another late night trying to find dirt on Babel's corruption- she can't help but watch the motion and think about how much she wishes that she was the one taking off his tie. She wanted to remove his tie with her teeth and then swallow him whole.

"See something you want?"

His voice had been mocking, teasing just like the little shit he had proved to be.

But he wasn't wrong, although she knew that any kind of real feelings just weren't allowed between them, fucking was different. Why did it need to be a one night stand when they both knew what they'd signed up for? They could fuck without crossing the line.

So in lieu of a verbal reply she walked over to the office door closed the door with an emphatic click before turning to face him.

"I have some thoughts I wouldn't mind you knocking out real good and hard."

His eyes glinted dangerously in the awful yellow lighting and as soon as he moved she was moving too, racing around a table to meet him half way. He tugged her roughly into his arms and she went willingly, gasping as he palmed her ass and pulled her into a bruising kiss that made her head spin.

He took her from behind right there on the table, his tie stuffed in her mouth barely smothering her moans the wet sound of them fucking loud in the quiet of the room.

She limped home with a satisfied grin on her face.

It's easy, having sex with Vincenzo. Usually she's the one to initiate but there are times when he stares at her so hard it feels like he's willing her clothes off her body.

It's easy because it means nothing.

Until that's not true any longer.

She's never been able to leave well enough alone. So of course she starts to see meaning in his little actions.

Holding her purse.

Bringing her coffee.

Sitting beside her on the couch because she struggles to fall asleep alone after the break in.

Sharing stories about her late father.

Sharing stories about his lost mother.

Coffee dates in the morning and drinks in the evening.

Soon they're hanging out, simply enjoying each other's company far more than they are doing the horizontal tango and she should have stopped it before things flew out of her control.

Before she ruined everything.

She groans loudly uncaring of the neighbors-they should be used to this by now- as he rocks into her slowly, they're face to face her legs wrapped around his waist and his hands tangled in her own. Tonight is different, neither are frantic or crazed each movement of his hips makes her exhale as she's drawn closer to her climax. Her third one tonight, he was such an overachiever in bed.

There's ringing in her ears as she succumbs to him and they've done this enough for her to know that he wasn't far behind her, gripping her thighs too tightly and thrusting just a bit too hard.

And as he's panting deep swallows of jagged breath into her neck she says, "Are you still leaving after we're done taking down Babel?"

She doesn't mean to. Definitely not here and not now but it's been on her mind. Each second that they spend in each other's company, she starts to.... imagine a world where they could be together.

Not just for sex. But really together.

His eyes widen as he stares at her, for the first time she sees fear in those cold eyes. He looks like he's staring at the barrel of a gun instead of his casual sex buddy.

He pulls out of her too quickly, she winces at the discomfort but remains perfectly still waiting for his reaction.

Watches him turn away, now sitting on the edge of his bed and she can see his answer in the rigid line of his shoulder before he ever speaks a word but nonetheless he answers her question, her real question.

"I don't think we should do this anymore." And then he tugs on his boxers and leaves her to her thoughts.

She doesn't cry. That would be too pathetic but the crack that formed when her mother passed and then her father grows larger, deeper and aches painfully.

It hurts to stay in the bed where they've been intimate so often but leaving and seeing him would hurt even more so she stays, blinking at the ceiling forcing red hot tears not to fall.

----------

He's never been good at sharing, too possessive of everything that he holds dear to share that with another. That included his clothes, his cars, his position in life and then he started to realize that it was extending to one particular person in his life.

She was an enigma to him, seemingly heartless and money hungry at first and while he cursed her for it secretly he admired it because it was real and authentic, the world was a cut throat piece of shit and good people hardly stayed that way for long.

But her father's dead seemed to melt away the facade she'd been cultivating. And he could see the scared little girl underneath the quirky too loud too attractive too everything lawyer.

It's too easy being around her. He doesn't realize that they've traversed passed colleagues and people who occasionally fuck each other's brains out until it's too late and he's wiping her tears as she cries drunkenly over drinks and fried meats.

His dick is still wet as he tells her they need to stop doing this and means it. This is not what he had came here to accomplish and he was the last thing she needed in this fucked up world, he couldn't make her happy didn't even know if he could be happy so it was right to let her go before things became even worst.

She was confusing carnal and emotional desires. He wasn't boyfriend material, it was laughable to even consider. He was nothing but an orphan and a murderer. She should aim for higher than someone like him.

But he still expects a battle. For her to give him the icy glares and scathing comments.

He's left waiting.

Cha-young is the picture of professionalism, easily moving back into their relationship before either of them knew what the other tasted like. He never catches her staring even though he can barely keep his eyes off of her, it's as if he dreamt the entire thing and there was nothing unusual between them to begin with.

This continues for weeks and he accepts that he was right, there were never any feelings involved and she had just been confused and time was the only thing necessary for her to realize her mistake.

They continue to fight Babel, suffering unimaginable losses and wins.

Everything is has it should be.

Then she starts showing up with makeup, nothing too noticeable but he notices because he's always looking at her.

Dark liner ringing those eyes.

Deep wine lipstick coating that mouth. A mouth that has devastated him until he was quaking in her arms.

He doesn't question her, has no right to even he knows that.

He hears the scrape of her chair, one wobbly wheel on the floor and tries to discreetly watch her walk away. Fights the urge to groan as she tosses her head back and scoops her thick hair up into a messy bun, her soft nape now on full display.

She leaves the room in a pantsuit, much like he's used to seeing her wear but returns in a dress that makes his mouth dry and his hands twitch.

It's short and tight, fitting around her slim body perfectly hugging the dip of her thin waist and the light curve out of her hip. And while the dress is sexy in an unassuming way, mostly because she's a gorgeous woman who would look good in anything, there is no skin showing she's completely covered up and he thanks all deities for that. But then she strides over to her desk and turns her back retrieving her jacket and phone and that's when almost forgets to breathe.

Her naked back stares him in the eyes.

A split that starts from the top of her spine and stops just above her tailbone.

He wants to bound across the room and lick a line down her spine, watch the goose pimples raise on that delicious delicate skin and hear those breathy broken gasps as he tugs the offending dress off her body and lets his tongue travel down, down further.

Then it disappears behind her coat. And he slams back to reality and her assessing eye, she stares at him for a moment too long before that placid smile he's tired of seeing thrown his way returns to her face.

"I'm going to head out first. Good work today. Oh and I won't be in tomorrow."

She never takes any days off. He had thought he was a workaholic until he met her. He tries his hardest to keep his voice level, "Did something happen? Are you okay?"

What was she doing and why hadn't she told him about her plans? He almost feels betrayed that something could be happening in her life that he doesn't know about. They were always the other's confidant.

"Oh it's nothing serious. I just need a personal day to sort some things out."

He should just leave it alone, she's being vague and it's frustrating but she doesn't owe him anything he knows that but he still hears himself say, "What things, tell me!" He hears the anger and command in his voice and unlike everyone else he's encountered who cower in the face of his ire, she gets ignited too instead her own rage burning in her eyes.

"Do I have to answer to you now?" She bites out, snatching her purse and rushing to the door her hair cascading from the precarious bun she placed it in.

"Stop being stubborn. I'm just worried about you." He calls it to her retreating back.

She scoffs at him, too many emotions washing over her face nearly impossible for him to pinpoint them all.

"Well don't. I'll be someone else's problem tonight."

And then she's gone and he almost wishes that she had slammed the door instead of quietly shutting it.

He goes home.

Because it's not his business, she is not his business. He should happily let her be someone else's problem.

But it doesn't take much to pull up her social media and see her posts, she's bright eyed in all her videos dancing chaotically with a drink in her hand and then he almost drops his voice when he hears an unfamiliar voice in the background.

"Damn babe. You look so hot tonight. Come home with me."

And then the video cuts off and he's left sitting alone in his living room with only murderous rage to keep him company.

He's dressed- all black head to toe- and out the door before he can think about what he's doing.

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

She has no idea where her date went and honestly she doesn't even care. It was clear that he wanted to fuck her and that was all she needed, to reclaim her body and stop the dreams about a certain Italian that she shouldn't be thinking about.

They were done and his little fit in the office today meant nothing. He was a control freak, and she knew that her suddenly disappearing would try him wild merely because he liked knowing what she was doing. It was pathetic but it made her feel for a second that he actually cared about her. It was fake but she didn't care.

She dances harder as the music switches to something she's never heard before, a soulful voice crooning in English and while she doesn't understand the words the rhythm speaks clearly.

And it feels so good (and that's what takes me highhhhh...) your love it keeps me aliveeeee.....

The energy in the room is hypnotizing and as she feels a large hand wrapping around her waist she doesn't fight the embrace, allowing herself to be pulled until her back is pressed firmly against a solid chest.

"You're the sexiest woman in this room. I couldn't stay away, I hope you don't mind."

His voice is nice, she ignores the voice in her head that says it's not deep enough or stilted enough.

She tosses her hair over her shoulder to get a good look at her new companion's face and she's content with him, he has a square jaw and thin lips but more importantly he doesn't remind her of anyone and she only feels a mild attraction to him.

He's safe. And she needs that more than ever now.

"No. I don't mind at all. Dance with me?"

He nods eagerly and she loses herself in the music, grinding her ass into the mild sway of his hips and when he grips her waist she has to force out the face that flashes in her mind.

No. I won't think about him. I don't care about him.

Thankfully her partner doesn't notice her mind wandering and he's gasping behind her, pulling her tighter against his body and she can feel his cock suddenly right there on her ass cheek, can feel how riled up she's making him and how utterly unaffected she is by him in return.

But she had no plans of stopping, she still had an itch and surely he could scratch it even if he couldn't completely sate it. She had to do it to prove to herself that she was fine. Even if she didn't enjoy it, just being able to do it was enough. She needed to be in control.

Alcohol would make it easier, she just needed more alcohol so she could let this stranger screw her brains out and forget about the one who wanted nothing to do with her.

"Get me a drink." She commands, dipping her body low before teasingly dragging her ass back up his body in a clear promise.

He immediately gets the message, fondling her before rushing away to obey her in the hopes that she'll make good on her promise.

She feels hot and sweaty, so she reaches behind herself to grip her hair a second time today pulling the wet tresses away from her overheated neck sighing as the cool air hits her skin.

She's lost in her own world, so she misses the sudden chatter around her. Women and men parting around her as a new predator enters the fray, she's dancing with her arms still holding her hair above her head when she feels a little touch on her neck, just a gentle brush but it sparks like static and makes her jump, spinning around to face her intruder.

---------

He spots her right away, dancing alone in the middle of the floor completely unencumbered by the eyes watching her with lust, envy and jealousy.

He's never seen her like this. Never knew that she could be so intentionally sexy. So seductive.

Her movements are fluid, more sensual than he expects from her on the dance floor. Her hands are in constant motion, smoothing over her breasts, hugging her hips, lifting and dropping her hair and it's pure torture to watch her touch herself when the hands on her body should be his.

And then his vision flares red when someone approaches her and to his disgust she welcomes the interruption. Allows someone else touch her and rub their body against her, he growls as she thrusts her pert little ass against a stranger's crotch and lets him hump her like a fucking dog in heat.

He starts moving, pushing people who get in his way and others start to take notice of him, jumping out of his war path. Women reach out to touch him but he swats their hands away, too focused to be deterred for even a minute.

By the time he gets there she's alone again but the image of someone else touching what's his is still burned in his mind.

He reaches out to touch her, scared of the unbridled rush of jealousy and anger that are warring inside of him.

Instantly she jolts at his touch, as if his touch is unwelcomed but that bastard's wasn't. He wants to knock all the other man's teeth out and make him regret ever touching his woman.

"What? What are you doing here?" She has to shout to be heard above the music.

He stares her down instead of replying, annoyed with her drunk stagger and how red her cheeks are. Secretly he doesn't want to admit that he's terrified about what would have happened if he didn't follow her here tonight.

"Who the fuck was that?" He ignores her question, instead firing off one of his own.

She bristles at his tone, glaring right back into his eyes before turning on her heel and walking away.

He is too flabbergasted to move but then she starts to disappear into the crowd and he refuses to let her out of his sight. He takes huge strides, closing the distance between them in four large steps. He decides against grabbing her wrist and intercepts her escape, stepping in front of her.

"You!" She points right in his face, "Shouldn't be here. I don't need a babysitter so just leave me alone."

He doesn't back down, squaring his shoulders and stepping into her space until he can feel her breath and the heat radiating from her body.

"You are the one who shouldn't be here. Who the hell were you letting touch you? I'll kill him."

It's scary how badly he means every word, he wants to kill anyone who has ever looked at her with ill intention, yearns to gauge their eyes out with a rusty spoon.

"That's the guy I'm going to let fuck me tonight! You won't do anything to him, just mind your business!"

He stares at her in full wonder. And then it fades to indescribable rage. He could burn this club to the ground right here and now and it still wouldn't be enough.

"What the fuck did you just say to me? I dare you to say that again." He trembles from all the fury building up inside, hovering above her with a dark sneer twisting his lips.

She has no sense of self preservation. Grins at him.

Grins. Like they are having a nice chat.

"You heard me. I found your replacement. So you can go away. I don't need you anymore."

The words are like slaps in the face, she was discarding him for a nameless quick fuck.

It hurt. It's hard not to grab at his chest and see if his heart is even still beating.

And then the very asshole who couldn't keep his hands to himself returns, happy and eager with a drink in his hand and she shoots him this coy little smile his way as if they have a secret and he can't handle it. He decks the other man so hard that he collapses with a single blow, the drinks flying in the air before crashing to the floor in a sticky mess.

He hardly fights the bouncer as he's removed from the establishment, thrown out on his ass and banned from ever returning.

He stays on the ground. His knuckles bruised but not bleeding. He wants to make them bleed. He needs the pain.

"You had no right to punch him."

He lifts his head and her anger about this insignificant asshole reignites his own rage.

"Are you that hungry for a fuck? Are you that fucking thirsty for it?"

"Yes! I'm that hungry! I want to someone to fuck me blind so I won't think about my father or Babel or yo--!!"

She slams her hand over her mouth, shoving the words back into her throat but it's too late. He already knows what she was going to say.

"Me. You don't want to think about me."

"No I don't! You said we should stop this, you pushed me away. You did all that so why are you here pretending you give a shit about what I do or who I fuck? What does any of it have to do with you?"

The words explode from her chest, even the persistent thumping from the club isn't enough to block her exclamation.

He watches her in surprise, that only builds as she suddenly starts to cry before brutally swiping away the tears and shoving past him.

He watches her leave in disbelief.

Why was she crying? She shouldn't be crying over him. It didn't make any sense unless she..... unless this was more than sex. Unless her asking that question was more than her accidentally blurring the lines.

It wasn't the first time she asked him that. But it was the scariest time because he couldn't answer her. Knew exactly what he was supposed to say but looking at her sleepy sated face he forgot all the reasons why they shouldn't be together.

So he did push her away. It was what was best for both of them or so he convinced himself because he was just a criminal and she deserved more. So why was he here fighting her and attacking men for touching her?

What the fuck am I doing?

When he blinks back to reality she's already halfway across the parking lot, climbing into her car and he races after her she was in no condition to drive.

"Hey! You're too drunk to drive!"

He grabs the driver's door before she can close it and returns her glare.

"I'm fine. Just mind your busin--"

"You are my business."

She gapes at him and he stares back unflinching, who was he kidding? It was hardly too late. Putting distance between them did nothing but make him want her more.

"No. No, I'm not. Let go of my door." She pulls the handle but he's stronger and eventually she gives up with an annoyed sigh. He crouches down, needing to see her eyes when he says this.

"I was wrong."

She stills, staring out the windshield. Not daring to look at him.

"I'm.... sorry."

That makes her look at him. Her face scrunching up again and he can't bare to see it so he reaches out to cup her face and pull her closer to him, kissing the tears that fall down her cheeks.

Without warning he tugs her up out of her seat, sitting down himself before pulling her into his lap.

She tucks her face into his neck and he caresses the naked skin that peeks out the back of her dress, in broad rough strokes. He preens when she starts to melt into his hold but then she pushes away from him, bringing them face to face again.

"I didn't mean to. I tried to stop myself from....I thought if I did it with someone else I could free myself from my feelings for you."

"...... Would you have gone through with it?" It's a dumb question to ask because the fire is finally settling and her answer could possibly set him off again but he has to know, just how close had she come.

She stares him right in the eye with no shame.

"I would have done it."

He wants to go back and rip that bastard apart.

"Stop. I would have done it and thought of you the entire time and hated myself. It wouldn't have meant anything."

Logically he knows that she's right, he has had sex with countless women and not even remembered their name the next day but it still kills him that he almost pushed her to the edge, because he was too scared to admit his feelings.

But deeper beneath that self blame he's angry at her. For daring to look at anyone else, letting them touch her and even dream of fucking her. He's so angry he could.....

He picks her up unceremoniously and dumps her into the backseat, climbing out of the car feeling like a wild animal on the prowl even more so as she stares up at him, quivering in place.

He yanks the door open and pounces on her, biting at her neck with unforgiving teeth.

"You were going to let him do this? Touch what's mine?"

She moans loudly as he pinches her nipple through the thick material of her dress, rougher than he's ever been with her.

"I'm not you-"

He cuts her off with a hard bite, teeth sinking into her neck so hard that he knows that it'll leave a mark. It'll be a gentle reminder to others that she was off limits.

"Shhhhh don't piss me off." He whispers into her skin and she huffs but lifts up her ass when he sneaks a hand under her dress and tugs at the flimsy material.

"Fuck!" She cries, scrambling as he shoves a finger inside of her as far as it'll go and then pulls it out only to penetrate her again with a punishing force.

She claws and tries to get away from him but his other hand is firm on her hips, holding her in place as he pistons his fingers inside of her clenching pussy.

"Where are you going? We're just getting started."

She swallows hard at the devilish look on his face.

-------

She feels delirious from the pleasure rushing through her blood streams.

She'd never had anyone dismantle her the way he was doing right now, ignoring her argument that they would get caught he'd yanked her legs in the air and began hungrily feasting on her body, tonguing into her wet folds, biting at the junction between thigh and groin, and speaking filthy words right into her abused hole.

"Look at this wet pussy, all of this is mine. Every drop was made for my tongue. You were made for my fingers, my tongue, my cock."

This shouldn't turn her on this neanderthal like display but at least to herself she can admit that she loves it, loved seeing him jealous because she was looking at someone else. Shivers had run up her spine as she watched him punch someone for daring to touch her, she had no intention of fucking anyone else but this was payback for all the times he ignored her question and pretended that this wasn't more than sex. 

He's fucked up but so is she.

"Then fuck me already. Show me who I belong to."

He noses at her clit, groaning into her quivering center twisting the fingers that he has lodged deep inside of her before reappearing with a wolf like grin.

She lowers her legs to the side and raises to meet him. His face is wet because of her and she can't resist tugging him closer and licking her flavor from his lips.

"You're filthy." He says with an air of reverence that almost makes her laugh.

"You love it."

And then they're kissing, all tongue and teeth she pries his mouth open and sucks his tongue into her mouth.

It had been weeks since they last kissed, she was starved for him.

She distracts him with the kiss as she reaches down to his zipper, dragging the metal down and slipping her hand into his expensive boxers.

"If my pussy is yours, then this is mine."

She strokes him from root tip, using the precum that has collected there to smooth the way and he groans into her mouth, biting at her lip then soothing the pain with his tongue.

"I need to be inside you now. I've been thinking about this since I saw you in that dress earlier today."

She clamors into his lap in the tight space of the backseat, rearranging them until his cock is at her entrance and she's gazing down at him like he's the center of her universe.

"Vincenzo?"

She whispers his name, feeling his bulbous head pushing past her resistance as he sinks deeper into her body. She whimpers at the intrusion, he's bigger than she's used to but the burn is welcome, she wants to feel every inch of him penetrating her, breaking her.

"Shit!....yes?"

She holds his face as she sinks the rest of the way, her wet folds opening up around him before he bottoms out with a loud groan and a smack to her ass.

"Stay with me."

He freezes at her plea but she doesn't give him a chance to respond, planting her knees and lifting up before dropping back down onto his waiting cock that sinks even deeper than before, the loud smack bouncing off the car walls.

"Stay with me. Don't leave me. I need you. I need you . Stay. Stay."

He wraps his arms around her back pulling her ever closer, while thrusting up to meet her downward pushes. He pulls her in his tight embrace, warming her heart even as he fucks her so hard that her teeth grind.

"Not going anywhere. This pussy is mine, your heart is mine. You, are mine. I never leave mine behind."

She cries at out a particularly hard thrust that sends her flying up before he grips her hips and crashes them back together, she can feel the car shaking and hear voices outside wondering what's going on but she doesn't care.

She loses the ability to speak, dissolving into squeaks and loud pants as she feels her body tightening in anticipation.

"Fuck! You're too tight. I'm about to pass out. Your greedy little hole is eating me whole."

She nods eagerly in his lap, too fucked out to argue with anything he has to say.

She's limp in his arms, allowing him to thrusts into her and pull her down to meet him in hard pounds. She's so close.....just a little more.

"Yes! Right there! I'm so close!"

"Open your eyes. I want to see you when you come on my cock."

She can't and then his fingers are there prying her eyes open and she can't see anything because they're rolling into the back of her head and everything is bright, hazy and she's coming harder than she ever has in her life. She can barely hear him in the background.

"Shit! Fuck! You're squeezing me so tight, I can't hold on. Fuck! Ugh!"

-----------

"I can't believe you didn't wear a condom. I can't believe I didn't notice. Are we actually crazy?"

He can't focus not with his come leaking out of her and onto the poor seat. He knows that cleaning it is not going to be cheap but right now it's so worth it.

"Are you serious! Stop looking at it like some creep!" She slams his arm, hard and that gets his attention finally.

"I lost my head there a bit. I couldn't think straight."

She sighs, picking her panties up from the floor and grimacing as she slides them back on.

"Ugh, so cold. I need a shower, now."

He can't agree more, but at the same time he wants to keep her just like this, covered in his come and leaking his seed.

"Things are going to get worst before they get better." He knows that she's knows he's talking about Babel and this fight they've signed up for. "Are you sure you can handle me? Once you're mine I'm never going to let you go."

He's never been good at sharing and he doesn't want to get good, not with this. Not with her.

"Is that supposed to scare me away?"

Honestly. Yes, the drive to possess her was always there just under his skin. And it would make him crazier, if anyone ever hurt her they wouldn't live long enough to regret the day.

"I'm not scared of you Vincenzo. I'm yours because I chose to be so and now you're mine too. Everyone else should be scared."

There was a time that he feared that being with him would poison her, taint her goodness but watching that evil grin spread across her lips he realizes that her darkness was already there, just below the surface.

And it doesn't scare him either.

[mar-the-magician]

Framework And Fascinations With A Flirty Incubus

The answer to ‘Which Chapter Next?’ was a very emphatic “AMIR!!” which honestly, I’m so glad y’all picked this!! Because I’ve had Talent Is Relative brainrot ever since I established the dynamics of it in my mind. It’s probably the storyline with the most potential chapters in my mind so far 😅 

Cw/tw: this chapter contains mild sexual references throughout! If that’s not your thing or makes you uncomfy, then just scroll right along, friendo~

Also, small side note, the reader character here is heavily implied to be demisexual or on the grey-ace spectrum. 

With all that out of the way, here we are! Chapter four, Layered Realms part four, Talent Is Relative part one.

Framework And Fascinations With A Flirty Incubus

Third person POV, focused on Amir.

Amir kicked his foot out and leaned against the wall. He was loitering in the Demworth’s Institute of Command Education (D.I.C.E.) office, hoping to grab a quick snack. An educational institution’s student help office might seem like an odd place for an incubus to look for a meal, at least at first glance. But the help desk attendant here was hot, and almost every student who came in saw him and let off a wave of energy that Amir could and would gladly and quickly consume. 

Ting!

The bell on the door rang, and someone carrying a massive pile of paperwork stumbled into the office and dumped it on the desk. Not even sparing a second glance for the attendant, they started sorting through it while rambling to him.

“—and I filled out the form for the History Of Manufactured Command class as well, but it wouldn’t scan into my computer. Everything’s been acting weird recently and so finally I just decided to bring all of the physical copies in, just to make sure. I’m so sorry, I know it’s a lot of extra work—“ the attendant sighed. He pointed over to the other side of the room.

“You’re all good. The whole system is kind of fucked right now, they just tried to update it. Go over to that table to sort through it. Make copies of the ones you need. Take your time, if you have to. Just remember the deadline is Monday, so don’t push it out any further than that.” They sighed, and Amir could feel the wave of relief crashing over them. 

“Thank you so much— I think I can get it all done today.” They gathered up their things again and plopped it all over onto the side table. Amir continued to look them over. Their massive wave of relieved energy had drawn his attention to their magical signature. It was oddly… sparky. They must be electricity affiliated. But beyond that they were— tangled, somehow, like a dark shadow had been cast over all their energy. He pressed against the wall with his foot to push himself forward, and approached them. 

“It’s late in the summer to be doing this much paperwork,” he murmured. They glanced up.

“I had all this shit done at the start of this summer, but now I’ve decided to change a bunch of stuff. So yeah,” they said absently, immediately turning their head back down to their forms. They had looked at him. Full in the face. In all his glory. And not even a single spark of attraction had flitted through their signature. Interest? Yes. Mild curiosity? Yes. But attraction? No. Maybe they just weren’t into boys?

“What has you so down? Your signature is practically exuding dark feelings right now.” He cocked his head at them curiously. They shrugged bitterly.

“Boyfriend just dumped me.” Abrupt and to the point— and they did like boys. Hm. Curious. 

“I could take your mind off that, if you’d like…” his tone was sultry as he traced a finger down their arm. They laughed. Good-naturedly, but still! 

“No thanks, pretty boy— I’ve got a lot to get done, and plus I don’t do the whole ‘fucking random people I just met’ thing. Shocking, I know. How will society ever get over the scandal?” They joked, but he could see the flicker of defensiveness in their signature. Hm… some knowledge to tuck away for later.

“I could change that~” They wrinkled their nose.

“Hmm. No.” Amir raised his eyebrows at them.

“You don’t think I could?” Did they know nothing about demons?

“Oh I know you could. I just don’t think you would.” He stared at them.

“What makes you think that?” They shrugged.

“Eh, just a hunch of mine.”

“And do you judge all demons by your little… hunches? Because if so, let me know how that works out for you, Goody-goody.” He sighed and placed his hands on their shoulders. “Okay if I smush you?”

“If by that you mean rest your entire upper body weight on my shoulders then… sure.” He sank down onto them and plopped his chin on the top of their head.

“What are you working on?” A burst of excitement flashed through their signature.

“Laying out the framework for my future.”

***

Goody-goody’s POV.

The demon lifted his chin from it’s place digging into my scalp and cocked his head at me. He did that a lot. It was kind of cute, like a puppy.

“Now you’ve got me interested, Goody-goody. What’s this future that’s got you so excited?” I smiled.

“Well I— hm. Let’s just say that while I may have natural command, and I may be electricity affiliated, neither of those are really… my strong point? And something came up that’s made it so I can switch my classes to manufactured command ones, which means I’ll be doing a whole lot better, and learning a whole lot more.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, what changed?” He said, settling back onto my shoulders and head. I squirmed slightly. I wasn’t exactly willing to share just yet that I had wanted to take manufactured command classes since the beginning, but had changed my mind for my boyfriend, Brook. Since we could both take natural command classes, he had convinced me that we should sign up for the same classes so that we could spend more of our time in the day around each other. And he certainly wasn’t interested in taking manufactured command classes. He was a powerful nature affiliate, with tons of potential, all-but nationally ranked on his plant and earth magic— unlike my puny sparks. But after he broke up with me, saying that he wasn’t emotionally ready for a relationship where he was doing the brunt of the work and compromise, I had no reason to stay in those classes. The incubus gripped my shoulders gently, pulling me back from my thoughts and into the real world again.

“Never mind, Goody-goody,” he whispered. That was odd— oh, fuck, right, demon. Could sense my emotions. 

“S-sorry about that—“

“Don’t apologize for feeling things strongly. ‘Those who have felt the deepest grief are best able to experience supreme happiness.’ That’s an Alexandre Dumas quote.” 

“Why do you know that?” I laughed a little incredulously. He snorted.

“I’ve regularly visited the human realm for decades, little Good-goody. I know my way around.” 

“Would you stop calling me that?” I laughed. 

“Maybe when you prove to me it’s not true, Goody-Two-Shoes,” he sing-songed. Oh I liked this guy. 

“Pffft— maybe buy me dinner first. Or, y’know, just buy me dinner— no fucking required. That’d be awesome too. College fees are a bitch, after all.” I rolled my eyes and went back to my paperwork. His weight on my shoulders was… comforting. Grounding. I liked it. I hoped he didn’t stop— because I was going to need some grounding to get through this load of shit. Especially in my current emotional state. Oh, he was so warm. I scooted back into him a little bit. 

“‘Earliest Origins of Manufactured Command’? That would take you back to the history of fae and demon orthography, wouldn’t it?”

“Speak English,” I grumbled. He chuckled into my hair. 

“Orthography is the study of words— letters and alphabets.” 

“Ohh— I remember now,” I shuffled through to the next page. How many fucking times were they gonna make me sign my name? 

“Well, now I have the advantage on you,” he murmured. 

“What?”

“I know your name but you don’t know mine,” he pointed to my paper.

“You can remedy that. Oh, also, that class will in fact be including studying ancient fae and demon runes and alphabet and such, and how they changed over time. So yeah, that’s gonna be fascinating,” I murmured. I could feel him smile against my hair, and he started pressing gently into my shoulders again.

“My name,” he said as I practically melted into the massage (good grief, was I really that touch starved?) 

“Is Amator. Amir Amator.” 

“It’s a pretty name,” I breathed. My shoulders were sore. 

“You know, you have enough knots in these shoulders of yours to very securely tie someone to a bed.” He murmured in my ear. I rushed a hand up over my mouth to hide my surprised laugh. 

“Dude, we’re supposed to be at least somewhat quiet in here, especially when there’s people working on stuff. Don’t make me laugh!” He smirked.

“Not the usual way I have people begging me not to make them make noise, but I’ll take it.”

“Oh good grief—“ I turned back to my papers. Well. This was shaping up to be less boring and stressful than expected. I had already made faster progress than I had thought I would.

“Maybe I’ll actually manage to make it out of here before— oh, shit.” I said as it started to pour rain outside.

“You’re fucking early!” I whisper-shouted at the rain. Amir stifled a laugh. 

“This is gonna be a nightmare to drive in!” 

“I love the rain,” he mused. “Also, the technically correct way to phrase that would be ‘this is going to be a nightmare in which to drive’ or ‘driving in this is going to be a nightmare’. Don’t end a sentence with a preposition.”

“Mm, go fuck yourself. ‘Sides, you don’t have to travel home in this, you can just teleport.” I muttered. He let out a sultry chuckle. Very different from the way he’d laughed before. I didn’t like that one as much, it sounded fake.

“Only if you watch m—“ 

“Hush,” I snorted. “Not the time.” 

“Fine,” he huffed. “Also— why can’t you teleport?” I scoffed.

“Teleportation magic is hard, even for commanders with actual talent. I’m nowhere near that level and I never will be. I can barely make static. Maybe if I actually make it to my fourth year in manufactured studies I’ll learn it that way.” After several beats of silence and two more forms filled out I asked

“Why do you love the rain?” He shrugged.

“It doesn’t rain in the demon realm. When I first got arrived in your realm, an old best friend of mine was leading me, and it was raining. I was… awestruck. And my friend explained to me what it was, and why it happened, but I was still just… so entranced. So they humored me. And we ran around and shouted and danced in the rain. I suppose some part of my brain still associates rain with all those good feelings.” Oh dear that was adorable. My heart was melting. 

“And speaking of good feelings—“ 

“No-ho-ho-hope!” I leaned my head back and looked into his eyes.

“Stahp.” I bundled up my papers and stood to go to the copy machine, then dropped my forms off at the desk and traipsed back over to where Amir was still standing. He smirked at me.

“I’m an incubus. How am I, in good faith, supposed to ‘stahp’ as you say?” I frowned at him as we walked outside, standing under the shelter of the awning.

“Stop that.”

“Stop being a devilishly handsome, incredibly charming, master of flirting, tease? I’m sorry, Goody-goody, but no can d—“

“Stop objectifying yourself.” He stared at me with confused eyes.

“You’re not… just an incubus. I mean, that’s a part of your identity, and it’s a good thing that it’s a part of you that makes you happy and that you’re not ashamed of, but you’re also just… a person. A person who gives good cuddles, and has his ears pierced, and also looks like he had a failed piercing when he was younger, and quotes Alexandre Dumas, and corrects peoples’ grammar, and likes Helluva Boss—“ I pointed to his pendant, which had the book that the Helluva Boss characters used to travel from one world to another hanging from the end of it, “and loves the rain and dances with his best friend and smells like strawberries and lavender.” He was looking at me like I’d grown a second head. I coughed and turned away.

“S- um. Sorry about that. I guess that got… too personal.” Did I just mention how he had smelled? What was wrong with me? I should go. As I started to walk away, he grabbed my wrist. I raised my eyebrows at him.

“It wasn’t… too personal. You— I’ve known you for half an hour and you just pointed out things that people I’ve known for months never cared to notice.”

“Oh. Uh. Okay.” I looked him over for a second. Well, after all… why not?

“Can I get your number?” An involuntary, incredulous smile began spreading over his face.

“You may.” It became a shit-eating grin.

“Oh fuck you,” I laughed.

“You may do that, too!”

“Eat shit!”

“I wouldn’t recommend it.” I was gasping with laughter at this point.

“Oh just give me your phone, you weirdo.” I panted between involuntarily giggles and snorts. He handed it over. I grinned at the elaborately decorated Verosika Mayday case.

“Nice phone case. How exactly has no-one noticed you like Helluva Boss??” He laughed.

“It’s a mystery, Goody-goody.” I typed my number in and named myself ‘Frustrated Paperwork Person’. Under companies I put ‘Helluva Boss Fandom.’ 

“I’m hilarious, I know. Ooh! The rain stopped for a bit! Catch you later, alligator!!” I dashed out towards my car as fast as I could to make the most of the lull.

***

If they had looked back, they wouldn’t have seen much. Just an incubus looking so lovestruck that Cupid himself would have bodied them out of jealousy. Who was so out of it that his glamour spell had fallen away, revealing his horns and his tail, which was suspiciously curling and uncurling like a contented cat’s.

I. FUCKING. LOVED. WRITING. THIS!!!!!

Amir and Goody-goody’s dynamic is just food for my soul, and it makes me so incredibly happy. This is definitely my favorite chapter I’ve written so far, and I’m honestly so proud of it! So I hope you all enjoyed as much as I did!

Also, I have a TON going on this upcoming week, so it’s unlikely that any new chapters of Layered Realms or any new fics are gonna go up over that time period. I’ll probably still be hangin out, making silly little shitposts and reblogging stuff and so on and so forth, but likely don’t expect anything too coherent.

[crqelsummer]

doodles from today!

left: the todocousins finally interacting in a picture lol. i still don't know how misato's face works, but we're getting there. kimiko (tddk), hitomi (dabihawks) and misato (tenyumi) :)

right: the tododeku family in OHA! i havent really drawn them interacting much yet, but id like to soon. i just think theyre cute :)) kimiko is their baby and you have never seen two parents love their kid more.

other notes + closeups below the cut but as usual, pls reblog if you like the content!

i just thought this was a very important doodle to include in case you guys couldn't read it. unlike the original todoroki siblings, the fire gene came through a LITTLE too strong in the third generation. tbf, this is only because 1/2 of the actual ice siblings had children, but misato is shit outta luck lmao

other notes about them: -misato has always known kimiko and was actually there when she was born. she was eight. likewise, kimiko attended her sports festival before she transferred into the general course in high school. fuyumi and shouto are still very close for this to happen. -the red hair gene is equally strong, as kimiko has red hair and hitomi grows strands of it in her own hair naturally. misato has white streaks instead because her hair is naturally blue. -arguably, both misato and hitomi are not fireproof in any way shape or form. kimiko is. -hitomi is the Cool Older Cousin^tm. misato is constantly wrangling the two of them in. hitomi and kimiko race a lot while kimiko is still training her flashfire quirk. -all of the girls have rei's eye trait (note the eyelashes along the bottom half of their eyes), and are angular similar to enji's. after that, their respective other parents' genes take over, which is why they look similar enough but not quite. -both misato and kimiko attended UA, with the former transferring from the support course to the general course in her second year and the latter in the hero course. hitomi however attended shiketsu. hitomi ribs at her cousins for this quite often. -while they're called todocousins, none of them actually are legally named todoroki lmao. even the fosters that natsuo parents are under the name himura.

[thepigeonhasapen]

Fandom: Obey Me: Shall We Date?

Warnings: Violence, Injury

Relationships: Mammon & Lucifer

Major Characters: Mammon, Lucifer

Additional Tags: Demon Summoning, Cults, Stabbing, Threats Of Violence, Actual Violence, Blood, Texting, Protective Lucifer

Summary: Mammon is caught in a summoning circle. Will Lucifer be able to rescue his brother in time?

He could feel the other patrons of the cafe giving him weird looks but fuck ‘em! He was The Great Mammon and he didn’t give a hoot about what they felt. Haha, look at that dough! He’d be absolutely rolling in it! Mammon took Goldie out of his pocket and kissed her.

"Carry the seven… add the one there… oh, can’t forget about that modeling gig next week! And that all adds up to…” Mammon appraised the napkin he’d scribbled his calculations on and grinned. “That’s right, baby! Look at that profit!”

“Aren’t you excited? I’ll have lots of money to put in you soon, my precious girl.” He cooed. He was careful when he tucked her back into his jacket, patting his pocket to make sure she was nice and secure. Goldie wouldn’t be going missing on his watch.

Mammon hummed happily and drained the rest of his coffee. Cheerily, he paid the check and floated outside on cloud nine. He spread his arms as he stepped out from the doorway, feeling the sun glowing warm on his face. What a nice day. You could do anything on this kind of day! You could go down to the track and bet on the horses! You could go to the casino! You could- Mammon cut the thought off by yawning loudly. You could go home and take a nice nap. Suddenly, that was sounding like the best idea of all. Weird, though. He hadn’t been even a little sleepy ten minutes ago and he could have sworn he’d slept well last night. Oh well. Nothing a good power nap couldn’t cure.

He made it halfway down the street before the fuzziness in his head turned into spinning and he tumbled to the ground. As his vision faded to black, it dimly occurred to Mammon that maybe today wasn’t looking so good after all…

-

Mammon wrinkled his nose and groaned. Why were all the lights on? He was sleeping damnit! Drowsily mumbling all sorts of curses, he curled up into a tighter ball, burying his face in his arms. The floor wasn’t all that comfy but he’d slept in worse places and- hey, wait a minute. The floor!? What the hell was he doing on the floor?

Mammon’s eyes snapped open. He was… oh. Oh dear. That wasn’t good at all.

He was inside some sort of cabin, lit by the dim glow of dozens of candles. As he followed the pools of light, his eyes lit on the intricate designs drawn onto the floor in chalk. A summoning circle. Shit. No wonder he felt so weak. He looked around the room a little more and saw, almost invisible in the darkness, three hooded figures. …Cultists. Great. This day just kept getting better and better.

Mammon stood up and crossed his arms, trying to mask his shakiness. It was like all his energy had been drained away and even now it was a struggle to stay on his feet.

“Alright, now I’m sure you guys didn’t know what you were doin’ so just this once, I’ll go easy on ya. Let me out of this circle right now and I won’t kill you all in horrifyingly painful ways.”

None of them moved.

“I’m serious, you know! It’ll be really bad! I’ll rip you apart and stuff!”

Good job! That should have them shaking in their boots! But… they were still staring at him without moving. Mammon shifted uncomfortably. “H-Hey! Don’t ignore me when I’m talking to you!”

“Oh my god.” One of them whispered. “It’s a real ghost!”

“I’m a what?” Mammon scowled. “I’m a demon, idiot! Not a ghost! A demon! How stupid can you be?”

“It hears us.” The second said softly.

“It!? I’m not an it!”

“Don’t speak.” The third snapped. “Just do as you’re supposed to.”

“Right.”

“Sorry.”

Silently, their robes rustling against the floor, they approached him. Hastily, Mammon took a step back. “H-Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”

But they weren’t speaking anymore. Metal glinted in the candlelight and Mammon’s heart stuttered in his chest. They all had knives. Mammon scrambled backwards but there was nowhere to go. His back pressed against the wall of the summoning circle.

“Stop it! Get away from me! I could kill you all easy as snapping my fingers! I’m just choosing not to right now because ya know, I’m nice like that. But I’m warning you! Not another step!”

He could feel his pulse rushing through his veins. He felt as weak as a newborn rabbit, his legs trembling as he fought to keep himself on his feet. As they crossed the threshold over the chalk, Mammon’s knees buckled and he fell to the ground with a thud. Fear curled in the pit of his stomach. Could a human kill him like this? He didn’t know and he didn’t want to find out. His palms pressed flat against the slick surface of the barrier cast by the summoning circle.

“Knock it off! Right now! Last chance!”

The leader of the trio dropped to the floor, straddling Mammon’s hips. Mammon tried to push him away, but his efforts were futile, weak as a lamb. Whatever this spell was, it was powerful. Mammon screamed as the knife plunged into his belly. Pain jolted up his abdomen in a searing white burst. The blade rasped against his insides as it came out and Mammon curled up into a ball, his hands clamped to his belly. His blood, the black ichor that flowed through the veins of demons, seeped through his fingers, hot and sticky. He could feel his pulse under his fingertips.

The three humans stepped back, falling to their knees and bowing their heads in silent prayer. Mammon moaned. He needed… he needed… he didn’t know. His head was spinning. His mind felt fuzzy. He rolled over, trying to find relief for his pain and something clattered to the floor. His brow furrowed. That sounded important. More on reflex than active decision, he opened his eyes. His D.D.D had fallen out of his pocket… His D.D.D!

Mammon reached for it weakly. It had skittered just out of his reach and he could almost touch it. His fingernails caught the edge of the case and he was almost… almost… there! Ha! Now please don’t look up, humans. Please just be occupied by your culty shit.

His vision was blurry and his hands shook with blood loss and it took him far too many tries to type in his password. His own black blood smeared across the screen as he shakily typed out a text message.

>Help

The D.D.D slipped from his fingertips. He was too weak to hold it up anymore. Lucifer was always by his phone. He should be okay. Unless… Lucifer didn’t take him seriously. Unless Lucifer thought he was joking. He- he wouldn’t do that, would he? Sure, Mammon joked around a little too much sometimes but his big brother would come for him. Right? Lucifer would find him. Lucifer would always find him.

As the minutes ticked by Mammon’s vision became foggier and foggier and his eyes drifted shut. He felt tears begin to well under his eyelids. He didn’t deserve to die. Or maybe he did. Maybe this was karma catching up to him for all the shit he’d pulled. Maybe this was just what became of demons. But he didn’t want to die. God, he didn’t want to die. He just wanted to go home.

Distantly, he heard the sounds of screaming, of crunching bone, of bodies breaking. Mammon opened his eyes.

“Lucy…” He whispered.

His very own angel of death. Six black-feathered wings, eyes that burned with hate. A strength that didn’t seem to match his slender frame when he scooped Mammon up into his arms.

“You came…”

“Hush. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” Lucifer chastened.

Mammon couldn’t argue that. He leaned against his brother’s chest, finally allowing himself to slip into unconsciousness. Lucifer was here now. His big brother would always keep him safe.

-

Mammon woke up to the plush feeling of blankets wrapped around him. He was home, back in his own bedroom. He sat up carefully, feeling the sting of the still healing wound pull at his belly. There was a thermos on his bedside table, along with a folded bit of paper. In black ink, Lucifer’s elegant handwriting scrawled across the page.

Stay in bed. Don’t make me come up there.

-L

Didn’t Mammon have just the sweetest brother?

[star-shard]

Ride or Die (Part 2)

Part 1

Elvis x Gender-Neutral!Reader

Premise: This is crazy, you tell yourself. Robbing a bank with Elvis. It’s also the most fun you’ve ever had. But things go sideways in a way you couldn’t have predicted. You didn’t think someone would get hurt.

Note: Bank Robbery AU

Warning: Mention of blood, mild sexual themes

Words: 2.4K

“Park a block back, come on now,” you put a hand on the steering wheel when you saw him get too close to the bank. You knew he was on the edge of something fierce going on in his mind but even he had to know that a big old ‘Crown Electric’ logo parked out front would be a bigger give away than a bad poker face. “Gotta be discreet.” 

Elvis was charged up now, still buzzing from how you reacted to him, the plan, the gun. “You done this before?”  

“Only when I’m dreaming about James Dean,” you said right back. Maybe unwise to say to a guy that had a gun that he knew how to shoot. Elvis was a jealous type but you were a take no shit type and weren’t about to get into a spat with him at the moment. “Oh shut it, you think about him just as much as I do.”

After a second of compilation he nodded with a shrug, you had him on that one. 

“I’m with you, Elvis. I ain’t gonna let you do anything stupid without me.” Especially not when it made your skin tingle in more ways than one. The both of you had gotten fed up the state of day to day in one way or another. Elvis just happened to beat you to punch in terms of being pushed towards the edge. Pretending to be okay had it’s limits. 

Elvis nodded again, he needed that. He needed you. And you swore this was the first time all night he actually breathed out. The air on his insides was even hotter than Memphis right now. And it was possible he might spend the next hour just staring at the bank rather than going in, similar to how he built up the courage to first get into Sun Records. 

Things were different now though. He reached in front of you for the gun and held it like a vice. “Do I look like a movie star when I hold this?” He asked you. You leaned in and kissed his cheek which made him smile. 

—

He had decided to make his tool belt out to be a make shift holster. There were enough gadgets and tools in there that if you weren’t staring you might just miss that one of them had a trigger. He’d gotten it from the truck bed and you fastened it on for him. Your hands pausing for a second. It looked good on his hip. 

“Not now,” he knew that smirk you had on. “We gotta… car, gotta get a car ready.” This was part of the picture that had drawn you in, a slick getaway car. He wasn’t about to go barrel first without a real way out. And the last time the truck went over fifteen miles an hour it filled up with black smoke. 

You two were down the sidewalk now and the choices out front all seemed a little shinier today than they’d probably had ever have been. Like they’d been waiting for you.

“That one looks fast,” you whispered, gripping his arm when at seeing a nice cream colored Lincoln. Your voice went lower as an older lady with a big hat passed by. But it seemed pointless to want anything else than what Elvis already had his eyes on. It was black, and it was new, and it was a caddy. 

At this point in life you wondered if he’d prefer a Cadillac over a coffin far off in the future.

“Oh thank you so much, sir, helping me with my car,” you proclaimed loudly for anyone to hear as Elvis jiggled one part of a Swiss Army knife into the door handle. It was incredible what you could get away with if you had the right jumpsuit on and if you were someone that at least looked innocent. You earned a chuff from Elvis but it wasn’t like he could possibly be any relaxed version of himself right now. 

It as after his third time of scratching the paint of the car door with a mishandled edge of his tools that you took over. God his hand was absolutely vibrating when he passed this part of the job off to you. You did it in half the time he could and only earned one weary glance from a passer by that was more interested in his cigarette than whatever tom foolery the two of you were up to. 

Thank god for evening falling. 

God the interior, the leather. It was blood red, you weren’t an expert but you thought it had to be custom. You just had to get in the driver’s seat. “Alright, honey… I’m gonna hotwire it, and you keep it warm. I’ll go in-“

Already you poked holes in that. “On your own?” The idea of Elvis being a lone gunman didn’t sit with you. His hands shook too much. He was still gripped on adrenaline. You wanted to see him get out of there on his own, not with a cop on his wrists with handcuffs clinking together all the way to a cruiser. 

He grabbed you. Elvis had never been a grabber. “Stay here.” He added on as if his mother was behind his shoulder, “please.” God, this boy. He ran you up a wall, a ceiling, and right back down to the carpet. And it became pretty clear that any more instruction was stuck behind his half way impression of a tough guy. 

“I get it. Keep it warm. Pony up then, cowboy.” Elvis’s grip would have hurt but it was more like he was holding you for balance. Because whatever was running circles in his head, it wasn’t balance. It took a tug, a clip and a spark but the car came to life. Elvis was a shit electrician’s apprentice, but you might have mistaken him for a natural the way god the Cad started. 

He was down by your legs which this time caught a little more suspicion from someone walking their dog but you just gave a wink their way which thankfully made them uncomfortable enough to move along. 

You thought that maybe Elvis might spend all night down by your ankles. Even if he knew it was smart to keep a car ready, that gun was already burning a hole against his leg. You reached down, maybe to brush his hair, to comfort him. But then you know he’d really start crying. So you let him breathe, and get up on his own. “When I get back, kid. Drive like hell.”

In a gesture of good will, you give him a solute. And after a stroll up those steps he was silhouetted by the light of the bank’s insides. And you closed the car door if only not to draw any more attention than you were about to get. For a second you considered the radio, it came just as naturally as putting a key in. But none of this was natural. 

So far, tonight had been something you hadn’t even known you were waiting for. This rush that the both of you had been anticipating. For him it was more than that, it was something that had already been tightening and twisting and ready to break. Maybe a part of you could have talked him down. But when was the last time you’d seen him so alive. Whatever came next, you’d figure it out.

You’d figure it out together… even if he needed some of your supervision. 

Just as soon as the thought came to you, you heard it. A gunshot. Fuck.

Had someone been dumb and tried to get the gun away from him? Had Elvis… done something? The option of driving away was right in front of you. And leave that boy defenseless? All he had was a gun!

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” the word shot out of you with each double step you took up the stairs to what might have just been the scene of a crime. And you felt very similar to someone arriving during a funeral wearing hot pink. The stares that shot your way. The scene in front of you was the few night patrons on the floor crouching, tellers making themselves small and Elvis getting whiplash looking back at you. 

You didn’t need to look for blood, all you needed was Elvis’s expression. No one was dead. He wouldn’t look like that if someone was dead. But the gun had gone off. And the way it was positioned half angled towards the floor with a hole awkwardly busted into a filing cabinet, it was just the crime of a twitchy trigger finger.

“Honey,” you never knew a pet name could sound like a curse word.

But you didn’t leave him. Not when he was an inch away from another misplaced shot. He couldn’t do this alone even if he thought he should. 

The bank caught on quick that you were ‘with him’ when you didn’t drop to your knees at the sight of an armed man. Although any other day of the week you would have have gladly dropped for Elvis. But these were special circumstances. The one graying security guard didn’t appear prepared for this. It seemed you had interrupted something of a monologue because Elvis audibly cleared his throat.

“Unfortunate, that’s what you said last time I was here” he said to the little red head man in a navy suit that was using his desk as a shield. Someone in charge of loans, you guessed. As he wasn’t lined up with the usual tellers. “Not… gonna be like that anymore.” The gun was still aimed at the floor but now loosely pointed towards the desk. You read the plaque that was positioned proudly atop it. Mr. Green. Fitting. 

“Son,” Mr. Green tried, you could see him swallow down something thick in his throat, “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t give money to a musician that wasn’t making music. Please.” Those were the wrong words to say and you took a step forward. This wasn’t a part of the plan. This wasn’t the kind of revenge he wanted. And you weren’t going to let him get red anywhere on those hands. 

“Money in a bag,” you said, projecting, still at the door, “apologies don’t pay.” It seemed to refocus the situation. You knew Elvis wasn’t a killer, never would be. Even if god himself told him he was, Elvis would tell him to revaluate a claim like that. But even if he wasn’t fixing for a murder, with the way his gun went off so easy without him trying, you just didn’t trust that trigger.

Elvis went along with your example, “money,” he nodded, “thousands, much as you can hold.” Seeing him tall and demanding got something in you going. It wasn’t just an engine that he’d turned on. “Come on!” And the banker got to work.

If he had the gun, you thought it’d make sense for you to grab the loot. So you scooted across the atrium which almost slipped on, it had been waxed within an inch of it’s life. You stayed fixated on Elvis but even you couldn’t fully ignore those on the floor. But, they didn’t have a thing to worry about. You two would be in and out fast.

You felt your chest might just get enough beats to take on a drum solo because in a minute some bags were being handed off to you. They were heavy. In your experience money was as heavy as a feather. You didn’t know it could make you almost lose your grip. God, this was something else. 

Then, you spared a look towards your accomplice, trying to see if he was losing any nerve. You didn’t want him to feel scared at a time like this. And damn he still looked like a kid in the middle of a quiz he hadn’t studied for besides a midnight cram. “Trade me.” You said, armful of cash that was still being added to. 

Elvis’s eyebrows raised, “…What?”

“Trade me. You don’t know how to shoot it, you’re a liar that watches too many movies, /trade me/.” If there was ever a time to have an argument, now wasn’t it. And you never thought you’d be trading off enough money to buy a house for a gun with five bullets. But you’d be damned if one of his stray bullets snapped a poor old ladies glasses right down the middle. 

“I’m not going to ‘trade you’, are you crazy?” Elvis snapped right back at you.

You shot him a look as if he had any right to ask you that. “Look, it’s not that heavy, okay? Just use your legs not your back,” you heaved forward the money in your arms that was amounting to the size of a small toddler. And thank god it wasn’t because he just took a step back and a couple bags went right to the floor. 

This was just like the time the two of you had an argument in the corner store about whether or not to bring fresh flowers to the picnic or rely on those inconsistent wild flowers under that old oak tree that may or may not have been poisonous. Well, it wasn’t exactly like that argument but it did end the same way with: “Fine, Fine.”

The two of you started the hand off. But this didn’t end up like a spat in the grocery. That kneeling security guard, who probably thought the two of you were an arguing couple in over your heads, which… wasn’t far off from the truth, had gained some nerve.

And when this shot sounded a lot louder than what you’d heard from the street. It startled you even more, it made you yelp. The room had gotten darker. Mainly because the security guard had shot out one of the bulbs in the chandelier to gain the room’s attention. 

It had gone from risky to dangerous. Elvis’s gun was between the two of you. And that security guard was now closing in to get a handle on the situation. And it looked like Elvis was raring to protect you. His free hand held reached out for you. But who else was going to protect him from himself, you reached out too but not for him. And this time it was your trigger finger curled, just as approaching guard had closed in.

Bang. Red. Blood was running down that graying man’s shoulder. You’d shot him. And someone screamed. And Elvis? His hand was still holding yours. 

[the-realms-master]

Framework And Fascinations With A Flirty Incubus

The answer to ‘Which Chapter Next?’ was a very emphatic “AMIR!!” which honestly, I’m so glad y’all picked this!! Because I’ve had Talent Is Relative brainrot ever since I established the dynamics of it in my mind. It’s probably the storyline with the most potential chapters in my mind so far 😅 

Cw/tw: this chapter contains mild sexual references throughout! If that’s not your thing or makes you uncomfy, then just scroll right along, friendo~

Also, small side note, the reader character here is heavily implied to be demisexual or on the grey-ace spectrum. 

With all that out of the way, here we are! Chapter four, Layered Realms part four, Talent Is Relative part one.

Framework And Fascinations With A Flirty Incubus

Third person POV, focused on Amir.

Amir kicked his foot out and leaned against the wall. He was loitering in the Demworth’s Institute of Command Education (D.I.C.E.) office, hoping to grab a quick snack. An educational institution’s student help office might seem like an odd place for an incubus to look for a meal, at least at first glance. But the help desk attendant here was hot, and almost every student who came in saw him and let off a wave of energy that Amir could and would gladly and quickly consume. 

Ting!

The bell on the door rang, and someone carrying a massive pile of paperwork stumbled into the office and dumped it on the desk. Not even sparing a second glance for the attendant, they started sorting through it while rambling to him.

“—and I filled out the form for the History Of Manufactured Command class as well, but it wouldn’t scan into my computer. Everything’s been acting weird recently and so finally I just decided to bring all of the physical copies in, just to make sure. I’m so sorry, I know it’s a lot of extra work—“ the attendant sighed. He pointed over to the other side of the room.

“You’re all good. The whole system is kind of fucked right now, they just tried to update it. Go over to that table to sort through it. Make copies of the ones you need. Take your time, if you have to. Just remember the deadline is Monday, so don’t push it out any further than that.” They sighed, and Amir could feel the wave of relief crashing over them. 

“Thank you so much— I think I can get it all done today.” They gathered up their things again and plopped it all over onto the side table. Amir continued to look them over. Their massive wave of relieved energy had drawn his attention to their magical signature. It was oddly… sparky. They must be electricity affiliated. But beyond that they were— tangled, somehow, like a dark shadow had been cast over all their energy. He pressed against the wall with his foot to push himself forward, and approached them. 

“It’s late in the summer to be doing this much paperwork,” he murmured. They glanced up.

“I had all this shit done at the start of this summer, but now I’ve decided to change a bunch of stuff. So yeah,” they said absently, immediately turning their head back down to their forms. They had looked at him. Full in the face. In all his glory. And not even a single spark of attraction had flitted through their signature. Interest? Yes. Mild curiosity? Yes. But attraction? No. Maybe they just weren’t into boys?

“What has you so down? Your signature is practically exuding dark feelings right now.” He cocked his head at them curiously. They shrugged bitterly.

“Boyfriend just dumped me.” Abrupt and to the point— and they did like boys. Hm. Curious. 

“I could take your mind off that, if you’d like…” his tone was sultry as he traced a finger down their arm. They laughed. Good-naturedly, but still! 

“No thanks, pretty boy— I’ve got a lot to get done, and plus I don’t do the whole ‘fucking random people I just met’ thing. Shocking, I know. How will society ever get over the scandal?” They joked, but he could see the flicker of defensiveness in their signature. Hm… some knowledge to tuck away for later.

“I could change that~” They wrinkled their nose.

“Hmm. No.” Amir raised his eyebrows at them.

“You don’t think I could?” Did they know nothing about demons?

“Oh I know you could. I just don’t think you would.” He stared at them.

“What makes you think that?” They shrugged.

“Eh, just a hunch of mine.”

“And do you judge all demons by your little… hunches? Because if so, let me know how that works out for you, Goody-goody.” He sighed and placed his hands on their shoulders. “Okay if I smush you?”

“If by that you mean rest your entire upper body weight on my shoulders then… sure.” He sank down onto them and plopped his chin on the top of their head.

“What are you working on?” A burst of excitement flashed through their signature.

“Laying out the framework for my future.”

***

Goody-goody’s POV.

The demon lifted his chin from it’s place digging into my scalp and cocked his head at me. He did that a lot. It was kind of cute, like a puppy.

“Now you’ve got me interested, Goody-goody. What’s this future that’s got you so excited?” I smiled.

“Well I— hm. Let’s just say that while I may have natural command, and I may be electricity affiliated, neither of those are really… my strong point? And something came up that’s made it so I can switch my classes to manufactured command ones, which means I’ll be doing a whole lot better, and learning a whole lot more.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, what changed?” He said, settling back onto my shoulders and head. I squirmed slightly. I wasn’t exactly willing to share just yet that I had wanted to take manufactured command classes since the beginning, but had changed my mind for my boyfriend, Brook. Since we could both take natural command classes, he had convinced me that we should sign up for the same classes so that we could spend more of our time in the day around each other. And he certainly wasn’t interested in taking manufactured command classes. He was a powerful nature affiliate, with tons of potential, all-but nationally ranked on his plant and earth magic— unlike my puny sparks. But after he broke up with me, saying that he wasn’t emotionally ready for a relationship where he was doing the brunt of the work and compromise, I had no reason to stay in those classes. The incubus gripped my shoulders gently, pulling me back from my thoughts and into the real world again.

“Never mind, Goody-goody,” he whispered. That was odd— oh, fuck, right, demon. Could sense my emotions. 

“S-sorry about that—“

“Don’t apologize for feeling things strongly. ‘Those who have felt the deepest grief are best able to experience supreme happiness.’ That’s an Alexandre Dumas quote.” 

“Why do you know that?” I laughed a little incredulously. He snorted.

“I’ve regularly visited the human realm for decades, little Good-goody. I know my way around.” 

“Would you stop calling me that?” I laughed. 

“Maybe when you prove to me it’s not true, Goody-Two-Shoes,” he sing-songed. Oh I liked this guy. 

“Pffft— maybe buy me dinner first. Or, y’know, just buy me dinner— no fucking required. That’d be awesome too. College fees are a bitch, after all.” I rolled my eyes and went back to my paperwork. His weight on my shoulders was… comforting. Grounding. I liked it. I hoped he didn’t stop— because I was going to need some grounding to get through this load of shit. Especially in my current emotional state. Oh, he was so warm. I scooted back into him a little bit. 

“‘Earliest Origins of Manufactured Command’? That would take you back to the history of fae and demon orthography, wouldn’t it?”

“Speak English,” I grumbled. He chuckled into my hair. 

“Orthography is the study of words— letters and alphabets.” 

“Ohh— I remember now,” I shuffled through to the next page. How many fucking times were they gonna make me sign my name? 

“Well, now I have the advantage on you,” he murmured. 

“What?”

“I know your name but you don’t know mine,” he pointed to my paper.

“You can remedy that. Oh, also, that class will in fact be including studying ancient fae and demon runes and alphabet and such, and how they changed over time. So yeah, that’s gonna be fascinating,” I murmured. I could feel him smile against my hair, and he started pressing gently into my shoulders again.

“My name,” he said as I practically melted into the massage (good grief, was I really that touch starved?) 

“Is Amator. Amir Amator.” 

“It’s a pretty name,” I breathed. My shoulders were sore. 

“You know, you have enough knots in these shoulders of yours to very securely tie someone to a bed.” He murmured in my ear. I rushed a hand up over my mouth to hide my surprised laugh. 

“Dude, we’re supposed to be at least somewhat quiet in here, especially when there’s people working on stuff. Don’t make me laugh!” He smirked.

“Not the usual way I have people begging me not to make them make noise, but I’ll take it.”

“Oh good grief—“ I turned back to my papers. Well. This was shaping up to be less boring and stressful than expected. I had already made faster progress than I had thought I would.

“Maybe I’ll actually manage to make it out of here before— oh, shit.” I said as it started to pour rain outside.

“You’re fucking early!” I whisper-shouted at the rain. Amir stifled a laugh. 

“This is gonna be a nightmare to drive in!” 

“I love the rain,” he mused. “Also, the technically correct way to phrase that would be ‘this is going to be a nightmare in which to drive’ or ‘driving in this is going to be a nightmare’. Don’t end a sentence with a preposition.”

“Mm, go fuck yourself. ‘Sides, you don’t have to travel home in this, you can just teleport.” I muttered. He let out a sultry chuckle. Very different from the way he’d laughed before. I didn’t like that one as much, it sounded fake.

“Only if you watch m—“ 

“Hush,” I snorted. “Not the time.” 

“Fine,” he huffed. “Also— why can’t you teleport?” I scoffed.

“Teleportation magic is hard, even for commanders with actual talent. I’m nowhere near that level and I never will be. I can barely make static. Maybe if I actually make it to my fourth year in manufactured studies I’ll learn it that way.” After several beats of silence and two more forms filled out I asked

“Why do you love the rain?” He shrugged.

“It doesn’t rain in the demon realm. When I first got arrived in your realm, an old best friend of mine was leading me, and it was raining. I was… awestruck. And my friend explained to me what it was, and why it happened, but I was still just… so entranced. So they humored me. And we ran around and shouted and danced in the rain. I suppose some part of my brain still associates rain with all those good feelings.” Oh dear that was adorable. My heart was melting. 

“And speaking of good feelings—“ 

“No-ho-ho-hope!” I leaned my head back and looked into his eyes.

“Stahp.” I bundled up my papers and stood to go to the copy machine, then dropped my forms off at the desk and traipsed back over to where Amir was still standing. He smirked at me.

“I’m an incubus. How am I, in good faith, supposed to ‘stahp’ as you say?” I frowned at him as we walked outside, standing under the shelter of the awning.

“Stop that.”

“Stop being a devilishly handsome, incredibly charming, master of flirting, tease? I’m sorry, Goody-goody, but no can d—“

“Stop objectifying yourself.” He stared at me with confused eyes.

“You’re not… just an incubus. I mean, that’s a part of your identity, and it’s a good thing that it’s a part of you that makes you happy and that you’re not ashamed of, but you’re also just… a person. A person who gives good cuddles, and has his ears pierced, and also looks like he had a failed piercing when he was younger, and quotes Alexandre Dumas, and corrects peoples’ grammar, and likes Helluva Boss—“ I pointed to his pendant, which had the book that the Helluva Boss characters used to travel from one world to another hanging from the end of it, “and loves the rain and dances with his best friend and smells like strawberries and lavender.” He was looking at me like I’d grown a second head. I coughed and turned away.

“S- um. Sorry about that. I guess that got… too personal.” Did I just mention how he had smelled? What was wrong with me? I should go. As I started to walk away, he grabbed my wrist. I raised my eyebrows at him.

“It wasn’t… too personal. You— I’ve known you for half an hour and you just pointed out things that people I’ve known for months never cared to notice.”

“Oh. Uh. Okay.” I looked him over for a second. Well, after all… why not?

“Can I get your number?” An involuntary, incredulous smile began spreading over his face.

“You may.” It became a shit-eating grin.

“Oh fuck you,” I laughed.

“You may do that, too!”

“Eat shit!”

“I wouldn’t recommend it.” I was gasping with laughter at this point.

“Oh just give me your phone, you weirdo.” I panted between involuntarily giggles and snorts. He handed it over. I grinned at the elaborately decorated Verosika Mayday case.

“Nice phone case. How exactly has no-one noticed you like Helluva Boss??” He laughed.

“It’s a mystery, Goody-goody.” I typed my number in and named myself ‘Frustrated Paperwork Person’. Under companies I put ‘Helluva Boss Fandom.’ 

“I’m hilarious, I know. Ooh! The rain stopped for a bit! Catch you later, alligator!!” I dashed out towards my car as fast as I could to make the most of the lull.

***

If they had looked back, they wouldn’t have seen much. Just an incubus looking so lovestruck that Cupid himself would have bodied them out of jealousy. Who was so out of it that his glamour spell had fallen away, revealing his horns and his tail, which was suspiciously curling and uncurling like a contented cat’s.

I. FUCKING. LOVED. WRITING. THIS!!!!!

Amir and Goody-goody’s dynamic is just food for my soul, and it makes me so incredibly happy. This is definitely my favorite chapter I’ve written so far, and I’m honestly so proud of it! So I hope you all enjoyed as much as I did!

Also, I have a TON going on this upcoming week, so it’s unlikely that any new chapters of Layered Realms or any new fics are gonna go up over that time period. I’ll probably still be hangin out, making silly little shitposts and reblogging stuff and so on and so forth, but likely don’t expect anything too coherent.

Outdated notes! Also, almost there— just one more chapter to find, copy, paste, and post and I’ll be caught up to the current timeline at the time of the creation of this sideblog!