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ordin-arily · 2 years

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Hello!! Saw that your requests were open so ima shoot my shot >;) || Requesting a gn reader x 2018!Donnie with an already established relationship! Reader is up on the rooftop of their apartment and it tending to the communities garden! While up there, reader is doing the "he love me, he loves me not" flower game out loud with Donnie in mind (of course hehe). Reader ends up landing on "he loves me not" dispite already being in a relationship and so they thow a playfull tantrum. Unbeknownst to reader, Donnie was looking for reader and found them up top and heard the whole thing 😌💖

here's your fic my love!! i went off the rails a little i think, but i hope you still love it!

warning: (light) fight/argument

words: 2900

The sky is cloudy when you climb up to the rooftop of your apartment complex. (There’s a storm brewing up in your mind too; how fitting that the weather should reflect it.)

You do your best to come up here every other weekday, usually in the mornings before class or work, or around golden hour when you convince yourself you’re tending to the community garden but, really, you’re just here for the magnificence that is the sun’s descent behind the NYC skyline.

Today, though, you reckon there won’t be a sunset at all. It might even rain later tonight which is as good an explanation as any as to why you’re the only person up here—though it’s not like you ever run into too many of the building’s residents with green thumbs in the first place. You can’t say you hold it against them. Life is busy and difficult and, sometimes, it's a demanding task to keep one plant alive, let alone a whole rooftop full.

And, so, it’s just you and your elderly neighbour, Pete, who take it upon yourselves to spend your free time watering, fertilizing, and potting.

It’s a meditative hobby, one that grounds you in the most literal of ways. (You don’t get much closer to earth than plants.) There’s just something about it that lets you process a day’s worth of chaos so that, in the end, it doesn’t seem so impossible to greet tomorrow.

This morning, you were here with Pete, humming to yourself and making small talk with him. A brief mention of how you were looking forward to meeting up with your boyfriend later in the day had your neighbour smiling generously and asking about him a little. Not the “what does he do” or “do you go to the same school” sort of inquiries—which is what you so cherish about Pete. He doesn’t care much for banalities.

Instead, he'd asked things like “what kind of person is he?” and “could he build me a better hearing aid, do you think?”

You gave him a light laugh and assured him that you would absolutely pass on the message.

You’d spoken of Donnie so fondly then.

Unfortunately, with the way the day had unfolded, you’d forgotten to put in Pete’s request, and the sudden realization stomps you further into the basement of distress.

You inhale a sharp breath, one you hope will be steadying but really only rattles you further.

And then the memory comes.

It unfolds slowly; feels less suffocating while your hands are busy like this. Your heart doesn't pick up in your chest like it did earlier—doesn’t threaten to bruise your ribs blue and black as it hammers against them—and it’s easier to see where things went wrong now.

When you’d stepped foot in the lair after your morning class, as you so often did on this particular weekday, you found Donnie tucked away in a corner of his lab with twelve mechanical arms—and two flesh ones—all monkeying around some new mechanism.

“Hiii!” you’d singsonged, hankering to catch up with the best part of your day.

He’d barely turned, oh-so focused on his work. You knew how he got once he was in a groove and that was honestly fine with you. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Brought you some coffee,” you announced, putting down both styrofoam cups on a lab table, then dropping your jacket over one of the stools and your backpack on the floor.

“Hey, thanks,” Donnie said into his new brain child, voice muffled by the metal panel his head was currently jammed up in.

You dug around for the laptop in your bag, more than happy to busy yourself with some assignments while you waited. “What are you working on?”

A clanging thud came from somewhere inside the panel, and you cringed at the noise.

Donnie answered you all the same, even if it was through a series of grunts: “A new engine for the—mmph—T-tank. I’m hoping it’ll—ugh—run a little—unf—smoother.”

“Ooh,” you gushed supportively. “Very cool.”

“Do I detect a note of sarcasm?"

“I would never!” you gasped wryly. “No, but actually. You know I love your work. Don’t always understand it, but I love it.”

You diverted your attention to a few open documents on your desktop, but Donnie stuck his head out to peer at you. “How can you love something if you don’t understand it?”

You lowered the screen a little. “Wh… Do I have to understand the sun to love the feeling of sunlight on my face?"

“Well… by definition, yes. At least in some capacity. You would need to know what the concept of warmth is to identify the feelings of affection associated with it. How do you know what you’re loving about it if you don’t even know what it is at a fundamental level?”

“I just… do? I don’t know, the feeling is just... there?” You shrugged easily enough, figuring he might just let this be, even if he wasn’t in total agreement with you.

Of course... you would have been wrong.

He stood up, making his way over to you cautiously. “I just don’t get how you can feel that without really understanding a given object, phenomenon, person, place, etcetera.”

“Well, can you ever really understand something? I mean, to its fullest extent? Isn’t that pretty impossible?” You took a small, light sip from your coffee. “Ultimately, we’re bound to our senses, right?"

“I concur, yes, but feelings as strong as… love... require at least an elementary comprehension of the object for which that emotion is held, even if the parameters we set for our understanding are completely arbitrary.”

You stopped, really mulling over his side of the argument.

Just as you were formulating a response though—one that was largely in accordance with his point, mind you—he piped up again.

“Does this mean you don’t understand my inventions? Because, you know, I always do my best to explain them in layman’s terms. And, by extension, I have to wonder if that means you don’t actually understand... me."

Your cup hit the table with a little more force than you'd intended. “How did we get here? All I’m trying to say is I love your work, even if I don’t always totally grasp the intricacies of how they function.”

“But I always explain the intricacies. I feel like I’m finding out you never actually listen.”

His eyes kept going back and forth between you and the table, so very fraught.

You shook your head. “It’s not like that. I just… I’m not always able to follow everything going on, even in 'layman’s terms.’”

The emphasis on those words were laced with a slightly mocking edge—again, not intended. It was just that… Donnie could come off so condescending sometimes.

“Well, why don’t you ask me to clarify? It doesn’t bother me, you know?”

You let out an odd little puff of air.

“What—you think it does?"

“Don, I know it does. How many times do you huff and puff explaining things to your brothers?”

“Okay, but you’re not them!” he cried out.

That gave you pause.

Donnie sank in on himself a little, looking rather… despondent all of a sudden. “I tried explaining my tech to them. Our whole lives growing up. And they’d either cut me off or fall asleep or—or call me a nerd! You were the only one who ever—!” he broke off with an angry sigh then fell quiet. "Who ever listened…"

“Donnie—“

“No!” he shouted again. “No, no! I thought you understood, Y/N. I thought you got it! I thought finally someone…”

The cadence in his voice was all over the place, rising and falling like the rapid ebb and flow of spring tides.

If you’d known this conversation would turn out like this, you would’ve just kept your mouth shut.

“It’s not like I don’t understand any of them…” you tried. There had to be some kind of damage control you could attempt...

But Donnie didn’t seem very willing to listen.

So, what else was there left to do but pack your things silently and tell him to give you a call when he felt like talking again? If… he felt like talking again.

You’d had to swallow down the lump in your throat as you left him there, biting back whimpers all the way to the surface. And then you walked home, tears streaming down your cheeks and shoulders quaking—quite a different walk of shame, but about just as humiliating.

Nice.

Your apartment felt like nauseating refuge and you laid in bed past dinner, damning to hell any homework you’d been planning to do. It was the last thing you could think about.

You and Donnie rarely fight. The times when you do are never explosive or trivial, which is why they always cut deep. It means there’s a real issue that needs to be dealt with. This time, though...

You’re unconfident about a solution. You can promise to be a better listener, sure, but the two of you have been dating for something like five years now. If you know Donnie, he’s more than likely feeling betrayed and… those are a lot of years worth of betrayal.

You clip just south of where you want to, and only this accidental snip brings you back to the present moment. You watch the flower as it floats down clumsily into earth below.

At least this mistake isn’t so grave. You figure the plant still looks okay—you wouldn’t even call it a bad haircut. Just one poorly angled trim.

Still, you decide it might be best to lay down the shears for a while. So you do just that, cradling the fallen flower, bringing it to the edge of the rooftop where you take up an uncomfortable seat and indulge in a grey sky.

There are tinges of muted purple where you know the sun is surely setting behind the clouds right about now and you hope, if you’re patient enough, you might get to see some flashes of lighting. Hear the rumbles of thunder, feel the wash of evening rain.

For now, though you simply thumb the petals on your flower, letting your vision go misty over the cityscape.

That is, until you feel one of the petals fall. Your attention pulls downward and you stare it, feeling wistful suddenly. You didn’t mean to do that...

You’re not sure what comes over you—maybe an urge to put the flower to good use now that you’ve mangled it—but you mumble out a small, “He loves me,” and pray to every deity you know that Pete won’t pick this very minute to find you up here talking to yourself. He’d never judge or mind, of course not, but this is for your own dignity.

You pick off the next petal. “He loves me not.”

And the next. “He loves me.”

Each ends up blown in the wind which is not only remarkably melodramatic, but also not your ideal method of disposal, what with the compost box idling not fifteen feet from where you’re sitting.

By the time you reach the last petal, you kind of want to cry.

Obviously, this is in no way indicative of real life, but the thought hurts all the same.

“He loves me... not.”

You stay with that, inconsolably sullen.

You half a mind to reach for your phone—to text or call him, to see if he’s up for a chat, but you know better than to step over his boundaries like that and, besides, you left the device in your room, under the covers with the rest of your despair. You’re just about to get up—call it a night, throw in the towel, wave your white flag—when, out of nowhere, another flower falls into your lap.

Donatello's voice is low in your ear. “He loves me.”

You observe it there in your lap for one small moment, shutting your eyes at the ripple of relief that passes over you.

You kind of just want to put your head in your hands, fold in on yourself even, but then Donnie takes his rightful place beside you and you can’t do anything except stare.

“Don’t talk over yourself all at once or anything,” he deadpans. And then: “I mean that, let me go first.”

The corners of your mouth twitch.

“I… Um." His eyebrows raise and his head tilts like maybe he had words prepared but like they’ve most definitely vanished from that big brain of his. “I’m sorry. I overreacted. I do know that you listen.”

You open your mouth to argue—to jump in and tell him that his feelings are valid when he holds up a hand.

“W-wait. Let me finish. Don’t tell me I had a point. That shouldn’t have been a fight, okay? That was my own insecurity and you got the brunt of it.” He glances out at the horizon, then back you. "It’s okay that you don’t understand my inventions as well as I do. It was unreasonable for me to expect that.”

Now that he’s done, you’re actually a little dubious about what to reply. You twirl the flower in your lap aimlessly.

“What made you change your mind?”

“I…” He inhales and when he breathes out again, he’s smiling. “I know your bubble tea order, and your favourite ice cream flavour, and your favourite hobby.” He gestures around like this last one is, clearly, evident.

You look down, only a little sheepish.

“I know the names of all your friends and family, and where you go to school. What pet names you like to be called, your hopes and dreams, the things that keep you up at night... I know your birthday and your favourite foods—and I could tell you all about your pet peeves, your taste in music, and your favourite franchises.

"But... I don’t know the first word you ever spoke or what age you learned to ride a bike, or even what three things you’d bring with you if you were stranded on a desert island.”

At this hypothetical, he gives you a playful roll of the eyes, silently reminding you how he hates those kind of platitudes but also that, apparently, he’s willing to entertain them if it means discovering something new about you.

“Where’s this headed, Othello?” you ask softly, a desperate attempt to get him to move past the sentimental stuff lest you turn into a puddle right here.

“I guess… just—that I realized I don’t totally understand you yet. And while I might not ever get to know you fully and completely, I would very much like to spend… the future... learning as much as I possibly can.”

You can’t help but grin at the way he’s so careful to avoid the “rest of my life” cliché and the insinuations that come along with it. Of course, you’re not overly preoccupied with such details. After all, these sappy speeches are rare enough and you should probably seize the opportunity while you can.

“I…” you mumble softly, inching your face closer to his. “Would very much like that too."

Your foreheads fall together for a small, special moment before you press upwards and kiss him sweetly.

He falls into it, ostensibly eager to welcome any signs of forgiveness you’ll spare.

“‘M sorry I yelled at you,” he murmurs against your mouth.

“S’okay.” You draw back a little. “I get it. Your tech means a lot to you.”

“It… feels like part of me. Like, three whole quarters of me,” he admits. “And it’s kind of hard to come to terms with the fact that… you know, it’s not. Not really.”

You think on that for a moment. “Of course it’s part of you. They're your creations.”

He seems to consider this but, before he can wager a response, you’re leaning in a little closer.

"And that’s why I can love them without understanding them. Because I love you."

He perks up at this, all kinds of love sick.

His grin goes loopy, cheeks and snout dusted in pink, and then he’s clearing his throat, avoiding your gaze, sitting up a little straighter. “Well, that’s one way to win a debate."

Your arms go up in the air triumphantly. “He’s accepted defeat!”

"Might I interest thee in a pizza dinner for thine victory?”

“My, my, and here I thought this flower was reward enough,” you chirp, holding it up for him.

Donnie looks shy suddenly.

“You stole it from up here didn’t you?”

He nods ruefully.

You laugh, getting to your feet and holding out a hand to him. “Come on, Thiefatello. Our pizza evening awaits.”

“God, I hope that nickname won’t stick.” He slides his palm in yours, letting you help him up.

“Well, that all depends on what else you’ve plundered.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“Fine, keep your secrets,” you concede, making your way to the roof’s access door. “It’ll cost you greatly though.”

“Oh?” he utters curiously.

“Some bubble tea with our pie,” you ask more than tell.

“Oh, well, obviously. I’m not a barbarian, Y/N."

You grin widely. And then: “Oh, by the way, I’ve got a favour to ask.”

“I’m all ears.”

“How much would you say you know about hearing aids?”

#rottmnt fanfic #rottmnt fanfiction #rottmnt donnie x reader #writing requests #my fanfic tag #donatello x reader #donnie x reader #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles donnie

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smoments · 5 months

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✧ part 13: memories of a stranger // a satosugu reincarnation au

❝ let's meet again, for the first time. ❞

╰┈➤ in which 19-year old gojo satoru happens upon a stranger at a cafe who speaks his name with a kind of softness and familiarity that satoru’s sure he’s heard before.

➽ chapter 13: for the life of us

Satoru makes it to Suguru’s apartment in record time - and he’s sure he looks absolutely unhinged racing down the street like he’s at risk of being murdered, but it’s all more than worth it once he’s standing in front of the elevator door to his complex after entering alongside an older man who initially looked like he was about to dive into a rant about how little elegance youth possessed nowadays, but softened the second Satoru held the door open for him with a fetching smile plastered on his face and offered him a brief, approving nod.

Satoru is just glad he didn’t have to use any alternative means to infiltrate the building. Unfortunately, as soon as he takes the elevator up - he remembers Suguru telling him once told him how it was always perfectly toasty at home even during winter, because he lived on the ninth floor - he realizes he’s never been over, and therefore has not the slightest idea what his apartment number is. He doesn’t waste any time reflecting on this minor hiccup, though, and instead gets to knocking on each door in numerical order. He’s been yelled at by three different people before he realizes that he can just ask the woman in the lobby, who looked like she wasn’t paid enough to care about the privacy of the people in the building anyway.

“Please. It’s kind of an emergency.”

(It turned out that the protection of your residents wasn’t contingent on how fed up with your job you appeared to be).

“And what is your relationship to…” she searches her memory for the name, eyes flicking to the ceiling disinterestedly. “this Geto Suguru?”

“Um. I’m his brother. Our parents gave us the same initials, you know? Thought it was cute. And I wanted to surprise him for his birthday, but he went out of town to visit his ex’s pet monkey, because apparently that matters more to him than our relationship as siblings. But I told him- I was like, you never even liked that thing, you always said it was filthy-“

She gives him an incredibly affronted look (he’s not sure why, unless she also owns a pet monkey), and delicately pushes a sheet of paper across the desk with two ring-adorned fingers.

“God, okay, it’s fine. Just go.”

He grins. “Thank you, ma’am.”

Once he’s singled out Suguru’s apartment number amongst the long list of names typed up neatly on the sheet, he returns to the correct floor and knocks twice on 906. Though all this weaseling might’ve tired out a more shameful person, it’s exactly what Satoru needed to lift his mood, and he feels far calmer than he did just ten minutes ago as he waits outside the door and wonders whether this will convince Suguru of his unending devotion.

Nothing.

He tries again; three quick, loud raps of his fist against the wood.

“Suguru?” He calls through the door. “Let me in?”

When several long moments pass without a response, he furrows his brow, turning away to look down the long hallway and running a swift hand through his hair that catches at his scalp. He tugs lightly in hopes of bringing a semblance of an idea to the surface; racks his brain for a logical explanation as to where Suguru could have gone.

And then, it occurs to him.

Satoru nearly keels over when he finally arrives at the park, his palms balancing against the rough fabric of his dark jeans as he takes a second to catch his breath.

He straightens, a hint of worry weighing at his chest when he considers that he might have it all wrong - that he might not know Suguru as well as he’d like to think.

That he might have some other place closer to his heart, one he frequents regularly for his nightly rendezvous with some other customer whose paintings he features in.

Then, he realizes that’s ridiculous. Satoru is as good as irreplaceable.

And it helps that he’s just caught a glimpse of Suguru, too, seated on that very same bench with his face in his hands and his knees slightly spread. Satoru wishes he had an umbrella so he could recreate that night and maybe get a laugh out of him - though it probably wouldn’t be as dramatic given that the sun is glaringly bright overhead, blanketing each of the park’s glossy metal structures in a pure, blinding light that almost hurts to look at.

Satoru makes his way over, his strides confident but his hands tucked into his pockets in an unintentional show of uncertainty. He takes a silent seat next to Suguru and feels him instantly tense up, making his heart sink.

Before he can lose his nerve, he forcefully reminds himself how little reaction he’s managed to draw out of him lately, and hope flutters in his chest, a meek, wavering sensation. Perhaps this is a good sign.

When Suguru lifts his head and lowers his hands, Satoru is fully prepared to see irritation displayed on his face, but instead, he appears drained somehow, his features faintly downturned.

Satoru takes a careful, shaky breath in and tries not to think about what might happen if he screws up again.

“I… I’m an artist because I’m arrogant.”

He doesn’t look at Suguru when he speaks, but he sees his movement still in his peripheral vision.

“I want to create something that lasts even after I’m gone. I want to influence people. I want to shape the way they think- or at least open their minds to something different. I want… I need to believe that even something straight from my brain is worth looking at.”

He clears his throat after he’s finished, staring fixedly at the ground between his knees. He usually sits cross-legged, but today he finds Suguru’s posture more familiar, more comforting. The man next to him remains silent, his expression contemplative.

“So? Selfish enough reason for you?”

A soft exhale of laughter from Suguru warms Satoru’s chest from the inside out.

“You make it sound like I was just asking you to feel better about myself.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to jump to conclusions if you’d just explained yourself in the first place.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Satoru chances a glance over at him and sees that he’s resting his chin in his hand, his gaze mildly thoughtful.

“So? Care to explain why you stormed away like that?”

Suguru’s forehead pinches in discomfort. He rubs at his temple with his fingers as though trying to clear away some invisible mark and lets out a pent-up, frustrated sigh.

Then, the words tumble out of him, quick and slightly urgent.

“Don’t you think it’s weird how most people will go their whole lives without actually living?”

Satoru watches him silently as he speaks before turning away and pressing his hands together in thought.

“You’re gonna have to break that one down for me.”

“Well, maybe it’s different for you. You’re a genius. You have practically everything figured out already.” For the first time, a hint of bitterness seeps into Suguru’s voice, an underlying resentment. “And what have I done? I’ll be finished with school in a few years. I’m going to graduate, and then I’m going to get a probably shitty, meaningless job, and every day I’ll wait till it’s over so I can go home and do other shitty, meaningless things that make me hate everything a little bit less until I have to go back to work the next day. God, can you imagine? And it’s what most people do, too. I think that’s the most sickening part- that we’re all just okay with it.”

He swallows, and the irritation drains from his face, replaced by a new exhaustion.

“But you… What you do, it’s so clearly rewarding for you, you know? I can tell just by watching you paint.”

Satoru doesn’t reply that perhaps it isn’t the painting process he likes so much as the subject. “So…” he starts slowly. “Because I’m in such an unconventional line of study, I won’t ever understand the struggles that normal, everyday, 9-5 people face. But… why are you assuming that whatever you do is going to be something you hate?”

“Because I’m not like you, Satoru.”

Suguru’s answer, soft and vulnerable, is a stab of hurt straight into his heart. He shakes his head quickly and keeps talking, his voice heightening with insistence.

“Do you hate working at the cafe?”

“Well, not exactly.”

“See? There’s one thing. Did you hate being my model?”

Suguru gives him a skeptical smirk.

“That was charity work.”

“Look at that face! I bet people would pay you for it, too. Did you hate hanging out with me and Megumi?”

“That’s not even slightly related to work, Satoru!” He protests, an incredulous burst of laughter escaping his lips before he can stop it. Satoru grins too, but then he lowers his voice, lets solemnity envelop it.

“Suguru. You’re the type of person who doesn’t need meaning to exist in whatever you’re doing, because you can find it for yourself. Aren’t you the weirdo who paid for a stranger’s hot chocolate? That’s pretty damn philanthropic, if you ask me. But most people don’t realize that stuff like that has significance in it, too.”

“Well. You were never a stranger, Satoru.”

“True. And I’m dashingly good-looking, so that helps garner sympathy. But it’s, like… you think too little of yourself sometimes. It would help if you were more like me. Because there’s a lot of things I can imagine you doing with your life, but not a single one of them is meaningless .”

Suguru is listening intently now, his eyebrows drawn together. He responds slowly, falteringly, as if giving Satoru time to change his mind.

“Really?”

“Definitely,” he replies confidently. “I think in every life, you’re doing something that matters to you, because that’s just how you are.”

His heart aches with a faint sense of loss as soon as the words leave his mouth, and he suddenly finds it difficult to meet Suguru’s gaze, so he looks instead to the sky- clear and blue.

Having put it into words, there’s something about Suguru that he’s beginning to understand. His sense of justice, his insistence that every event must have some deeper significance to it, his longing for meaning , it’s a frighteningly deadly double-edged sword - and he’s almost certain that it’s also what pushed Suguru to walk away from him the first time. It’s always been the same principle, hasn’t it? The same conundrum. It was just that before, the thing he found meaning in had to end with his death at Satoru’s hands.

But having experienced a semblance of that life already, Satoru understands the enormity of what is at risk.

And he will not lose Suguru twice.

Suguru nods slowly, his eyes falling shut in a sweet, slightly bashful smile that feels achingly familiar and entirely new all at once.

“Thanks, Satoru.”

Satoru grins back at him, clasping his shoulder with a firm hand and letting it linger there for a second as his palm absorbs the warmth of Suguru’s body. “No more ditching, right? I’m supposed to be the bad influence in this relationship.”

Suguru rolls his eyes, but Satoru doesn’t sense any irritation behind the action.

“Let’s take it day by day, why don’t we?”

“What the hell is this?”

“Man, I don’t know, just put it in the thing.”

Once he’d come down from the rush of stress that propelled him through their conversation, Satoru remembered that Shoko had been holding out at the gallery for his sake and was immediately struck with guilt. So, after showering her with gratitude and escorting her home against her wishes, the two of them organized a shopping spree for the following day to put together a little gift for her - Suguru’s involvement came at his own insistence, as he felt that the whole thing was mostly his fault.

And although he definitely owes both of them now, he also feels like a weight has been lifted off his chest.

He’s not sure what it is about Satoru’s words that have the ability to put him at such ease, but he’s already slept through the night without interruption (in other words, without tossing and turning for hours before giving up and lying silently in bed with his gaze fixed dismally on the ceiling in a weak attempt to fell the sense of panic stirring in his chest). It was a most welcome development, even if he did finally come to his senses when he awoke and was struck with a wave of crippling embarrassment.

Why did he have to be so disgustingly honest about his emotions? How humiliating. He should’ve just stayed quiet- at least he’d still have his pride that way.

And how did Satoru know just what to say to quell his worries?

And how could he have let himself become so sleep deprived that he didn’t even register the awkwardness of his actions until a day later?

He’s especially grateful for Satoru’s easy-going nature when they meet up after a morning of him stressing out and he realizes that nothing has really changed in his behavior, aside from a touch more cautiousness. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if Satoru of all people abruptly went silent and judgy and started treating him like he had an infectious disease (which was what emotional vulnerability sometimes felt like to him).

“I’m not entirely sure whether Shoko is interested in this kind of stuff.”

Satoru peers down at the object now laying at the bottom of the white basket - an adorable little humidifier in the shape of a beige cat - and breaks into an irrepressible grin.

“How can she not be?! It’s literally the cutest thing ever! And one time she said her skin gets dry, remember?”

Suguru purses his lips. “I don’t recall, but if you’re sure she’ll like it. Oh - how about food?”

“Covered! I told her I’d buy her Taco Bell too.” Satoru explains proudly.

“Taco Bell? That was the first thing that came to your mind?”

“Rude! You weren’t complaining that time we went and you devoured all our little cinnamon donut holes. Which I ordered, by the way.”

Suguru averts his eyes, a tinge of pink coloring his cheeks.

“That was because I had no other choice. Fine, get the gift card.”

“Should I do the plain one with the bell or the rainbow one? Hey, they have a holiday edition out now, too-“

“She’s not eating the gift card, Satoru.” Suguru replies sarcastically, but shifts his gaze to just above Satoru’s shoulder as he leans down in front of the row anyway. “The rainbow one.”

“Right?! Okay - they have chips two aisles down. Also, does she like stuffed animals?”

“Yeah, I think she has one of those,” Suguru replies, pointing to an array of feather-soft plushies lined up near the checkout desk with a hand tucked into his pocket. His gaze turns thoughtful as he appraises the display. “Hey, speaking of which - when I went home last night, the woman in the lobby gave me a dirty look. Asked me… what I had against monkeys?”

Satoru freezes at his words and turns away from the stuffed animals haltingly, stifling a snort of laughter.

“Oh… I wonder. Might be a personal issue, you know? I wouldn’t dig too deep.”

#jjk #satosugu #archive of our own #coffee shop au #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #alternate universe #geto suguru #gojo satoru #crying screaming throwing up #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen au

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madametnt · 3 months

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Ashley Brown Callout Post

Let me start this off by saying you are completely valid if you like Ashley. Most people do. And I used to like her to until I really thought about her actions. Not that I’m trying to change any opinions. It’s not unreasonable to like or even love Ashley. Which is why it makes me mad that people think it’s unreasonable to dislike or hate her.

I would also like to emphasize that I think seeing her as a kind of shitty person makes her more interesting in my eyes. And the characters having layers of darkness brought out of them over the course of the night is one of my favorite things about the game.

I swear I love this game but I’m about to hate on like every character.

First, I wanna talk about Ashley’s most divisive scene. Her killing Chris. Not “freezing” or whatever. Murder by inaction. Because a lot of people for some reason always act like Ashley’s disdain for Chris doesn’t play a factor in this decision. If they wanted to convey her freezing up, then this was a big fumble on the writers part because they absolutely did not.

Like, look at the scene. Shawty walks up to the door, reaches out an arm like she’s about to open it, then flashbacks to him shooting her implying that’s what she was remembering, as every other time a flashback happens it’s a characters thought. So she certainly didn’t blank. And then while staring him dead in the eyes, backs away from the door and watches him die.

To me, that is calculated. That is vengeance. TOO LATE?! Girl WHAT? And I have seen people legitimately claim that it was all because she was just scared. Don’t get me wrong, I think fear and desperation definitely played a part of it. She had that primal monkey brain going on taking control of her. But you gotta be a different breed of stone cold to stare him in the eyes as he gets decapitated in front of you. Even if you are hella dissociating, she’s perfectly fine in the alt timeline. And the breath she takes it makes it seems like she’s relieved and accepting of what just happened.

Side tangent: I’ve heard people say this was a deliberate change of character to punish people for choosing a choice Chris would never choose. That makes me have an aneurysm. If he would supposedly NEVER do it, then why does he?! Why does he have the option??? Until Dawn to me has always felt like a game where no choice is inherently out of character. Differing choices simply play up different aspects of their personality or show a different side to them. So if this is somehow true, then that is the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard. And this builds upon the hidden darkness thing I mentioned earlier.

Honestly, I think Chris shooting Ashley to save himself is his hidden darkness. Possibly nearly killing the girl TWICE in one night via saw trap and by shooting her in the face as she’s begging for her life, all to serve his own interests. I don’t blame Chris for this. Man has been put through the wringer. And honestly, I wouldn’t blame Ashley for letting that subtle disdain and fear take hold of her when she allows Chris to perish. It would be hypocritical of me not to. Here’s the thing though, that’s a POSSIBLE reality.

What really bothers me is should Chris aim the gun at himself first, Ashley goes all “wait no babe shoot me instead.” And DO NOT try to say she wasn’t really saying Chris shoot her, because I don’t know how anyone could see that dialogue and think otherwise. Even when people try to justify it, it still makes no sense to me. To me, this comes off as Ashley just saying things since she doesn’t expect Chris to follow through and wants to seem like a good person. Ashley in general comes off to me as someone who tries to gaslight themselves into thinking they’re a better person than they really are. Which, yeah, everyone has done at some point in their lives. But for Ashley this is a trait that kind of looms over her head to me.

And even if she pulled that self-sacrifice BS, her relationship with Chris STILL drops to zero afterwards. Saying something you don’t mean is one thing. Killing someone over them believing your BS is a whole different ballpark. Say what you want about Emily, but at least with Emily you know where you stand. Then, she acts all dismissive of his death and LIES about what happened to the police. At least factually. Maybe she’d like to believe that she really had just froze. But actions speak louder.

Speaking of Emily though, let’s talk about the scene in the basement. Now, straight out the gate I wanna say I don’t hold Ashley responsible should Emily get shot. That is all Mike, who is such a fucking ape in this scene. All of them are (safe for Sam). But this ain’t about that dumbass right now. And no, I don’t think Ashley was advocating for Emily’s death. But I also don’t think she wasn’t NOT advocating for Emily’s death. She certainly didn’t object in the moment. Neither did Chris because, again, ape, but Ashley was way more vocal than he was about making her leave over NO EVIDENCE. ZILCH. NADA. Don’t even pretend like she didn’t know Emily was gonna die out there because she most definitely would have. And it’s this high impulsivity that Ashley displays that I honestly find annoying af.

And before you start with the “well if you were in her shoes-“ I’m gonna stop you right there. I am one year off Ashley’s age, and I am staking my life on no the fuck I wouldn’t. Because if I thought my friend, even if that friend was Emily, was possibly turning into a monster, I would still stall and find any excuse not to kill them. Especially because I would never forgive myself if we got someone killed someone who I still considered a friend. Even if indirectly. My people pleasing ass could never. Though I sincerely hope I never have to find out.

If my friend almost got me killed whether it be by forcing me to waltz to my death or by riling up the gorilla that is Mike by screaming bloody murder. Again, I don’t care if it’s realistic because ain’t no one else in that room except the aforementioned ooga booga man were in hysterics like those two doofuses were. Based on nothing except assumptions, might I add. The thought of pushing her out of the way to save myself would have at the very least crossed my mind. Say what you want but Ashley is the last person I would want on my team because she is NOT a team player. Shes only a team player when it’s convenient and that is not conducive.

Also her screaming gets on my nerves sometimes. This isn’t related to anything it’s just the truth. Granted all of her freakouts are VERY well acted. I actually love the way she is played. Though, that’s not saying much because every performance in UD is fire 🔥🔥🔥🔥

Ironically, it was while making this rant that I realized I don’t hate Ashley as much as I thought I did. Honestly, I wouldn’t even say I really dislike her. (Hard to tell with everything I just said, I know.) Is she still the least baddest bitch in the game? Without question. (Except for when she stabs the psycho that was pretty sick) But a lot of her flaws make her interesting, and she stands out amongst the cast for both better and worse. I think people tend to fail to recognize the bad parts of her and try justifying her actions in moments where they really aren’t justifiable.

You fic writers though… lemme tell you. You guys are cracked at writing her. Keep doing the lords work.

Meeting adjured. *law and order sound effect.*

#until dawn #ashley brown #rant post #don’t take this too seriously

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barbiewritesstuff · 2 years

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Ive been waiting for this one 😩

So i was thinking a hangman x reader which kind of mirrors the scene in 'Set It Up' (if you havent seen it i highly reccomend) where they take the pizza up the fire escape (it could be that hangman forgot his keys) and up to the point where they are staring at eachother in scilence and you can make it go as far as you want to babes 💅💅💅

Absolutely, desperately, madly in love with you

-- I watched this scene so many times to copy the dialogue that I'm pretty sure I know it by heart. I still took some liberties, though.

Anyway I love this, thank you so much for the request! --

You knew you had overdone it at the Hard Deck as soon as you walked out of the bar and going to get a pizza with Hangman seemed like the best idea ever. You also knew that if you had been sober, you would have been too much of a coward to accept.

So, Jake had walked with you to his favourite pizza place in town and ordered "The usual please, Georgio" and took it to go in a big square box.

"We should go eat it at mine. There's tables and chairs and --" he frowned "We should go to mine, 's not far"

He'd told you it was a ten minute walk. It would have been if you hadn't drunk so much that walking had become a puzzle your brain needed to figure out and if Jake hadn't tried to jump, pizza in hand over every bike rack, bollard and traffic cone he saw on the San Diego sidewalk you shared.

The pizza smelled heavenly. You didn't know what it was, but something almost made you lift the lid off of it

"You're going to let the smell out" he whined

"I wish that box was my bed," you replied. It was no lie, you were exhausted and hungry like one could only be after far too many tequila shots.

You almost didn't notice Jake had stopped walking. He opened the front door of an apartment building on your right and led you up the stairs.

"I know this is not going to sound how i mean this to sound" he paused, a serious expression on his face, almost deciding the most tactful way to phrase what he wanted to say "I wanna fuck this pizza"

"I get it" you paused. You wanted to fuck the pizza too " You should never say that to anyone else… but I get it"

Jake searched through his pockets to find his keys but they were empty.

"I forgot my keys" he stated, you looked at him with a sad expression

"What about my tables and chairs?" You pouted. He stuck out his tongue.

"We can go another way…"

Jake led you back down the stairs and outside next to the front door.

"Do you know how athletic I was?" Jake had been telling you about his teenaged exploits. He handed you the pizza and climbed on top of a large concrete block. "Impressed yet?"

"I'm so hungry… Too hungry" You replied, lifting the lid and finally sneaking a look at your pizza. It was gorgeous. Simply the single most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

"Hmmm… oh god" Jake was pulling on the ladder but it wouldn't budge

"Do you need some help?" You asked

"Yeah" you helped Jake by pulling on the bottom steps, with your combined efforts, the ladder finally fell

"Gimme the pizza" Jake ordered, squatted down and with both of his hands outstretched.

"No no no no, I-- I'm gonna take it up to the top"

"Absolutely not, your hands are too small" he said, using your moment of confusion to his advantage and grabbing the box out of your hands.

"Jake!"

"I'm gonna hold it with one hand, I'm gonna move my way up this ladder, like a monkey" he said. You tried to reach for the pizza "Stop!" And then again "Stop!... I got this"

"Alright" he added, almost to reassure himself.

"Oh my god" you exclaimed

What?

"Stop! Keep the top up otherwise the cheese'll slide off"

He laughed

"Please don't drop my pizza"

"What? Just stop making me laugh" he laughed

"I'm serious!"

"Stop it! Stop making me laugh"

"I'm not trying to, I'm --"

"Stop!"

"I mean it, okay"

"It is in my possession, I got it" Jake said, finally getting to the top of the ladder and climbing up to a small balcony. You grabbed the ladder and made your way up to find him waiting for you.

"Are you okay"

"I'm fine" he replied

"No I'm talking to my pizza"

Jake gave you the pizza before entering the room via the window, you followed after and found a corner of the bed to sit on. Hangman jumped over the bed and swung his legs back to the floor.

"Parkour!"

He turned on a lamp and slid onto his carpet. He held out his hand for the pizza.

"This is the dining room"

"Careful" you said as you handed him the box

"1,2,3" You counted down in a whisper, excitement seeping out into your voice. Jake opened the box on 3 and you both sighed at the sight of such carb filled perfection. It turned out that "The usual please, Georgio" was a cheeseburger pizza. The thin crust pizza was topped with a three cheese blend, minced beef and gherkins.

"Thank god" Jake said, relieved his meal had remained intact

"That looks so good" you wriggled your fingers over the pizza, trying to pick a good slice

"Just choose it"

You both picked a slice and brought it to your mouths, taking a large bite. You chewed. It was the tastiest pizza you had eaten, maybe due to the alcohol or even the company.

"Wow" you said

You both took another bite.

"This is the best meal I've ever had" You said, pausing to choose your words "in my entire life"

Jake looked at you. What did Georgio put in the pizza? Because when he looked at you, it auddenly occurred to him that you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. He couldn't take his eyes off of you, every inch of you interesting to him.

You felt his eyes trail down your body. You met his gaze, suddenly feeling very shy and self-conscious at the intensity in his eyes.

"I should probably go" you swallowed "home"

Jake suddenly snapped out of his reverie.

"Slice for the road?"

"2 please but roll it crust side out" you paused "I'm a lady" was the only explaination you offered. Jake obeyed.

He watched you take the slices, stand up and exit via the open window. Jake suddenly felt empty and down.

Is this what being in love felt like?

Always craving the other's presence, needing them close to you, even if it means sharing a pizza you refuse to share with anyone else?

Did it feel like butterflies in his stomach when he saw you on base, getting giddy when he got to sit next to you in the rec room, or giggling (yes, Jake had caught himself giggling) at any and all stupid joke you made?

If it did, then Jake had to admit to himself that he was absolutely, desperately and madly in love with you.

And so were you.

He just didn't know it yet.

#fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun x reader #top gun maverick #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #fanfiction #jake seresin #hangman top gun #original fic #requests

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starglitterz · 2 months

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Hi 👋. Sorry I haven't had the time to talk cause school is extra hectic rn😅 but I had the time today and I wanted to tell you that you inspired to actually start listening to Artic Monkeys 🎉🎉. I am honestly obsessed with Wanna be yours ❤️❤️❤️. It's absolutely amazing (from the music to the lyrics I AM IN LOVE 😍😍) IT'S LITERALLY MY GO TO LOVE SONG RN and I wanted to ask you what your favorite songs are so I can listen to. them. - 🌊 anon ( Your number one fan)

hihihi!! it's totally okay omg, you don't need to apologise!! i hope your irl stuff is going well 🫶🫶🫶

OMG WHAT ?!?"( that is like the best thing anyone could ever say to me THAT'S SO COOL!!!! i'm so glad you found a song of theirs that you like ueueue 🥹🩷 AND OH MY GOSH I LOVE THIS QUESTION!!! i literally love all their songs but most of my favourites are from the AM album, like idk the vibes there are *chefs kiss*

but okay here are my top 5!! 😼

5. r u mine? - ABSOLUTELY INSANE SONG!!! i adore this song with my whole heart, the guitar and drums go so HARD i literally screamed my lungs out at the concert HDJSDJSH

4. knee socks - WHEN YOU WALKED AROUND THE HOUSE WEARING MY SKY BLUE LACOSTE AND YOUR KNEE SOCKS!!! the riff in this song actually plays on loop in my head and i was so obsessed with this song for ages and i have this hyperspecific image in my head of guitarist!xiao playing this riff and some day i will actually write that i swear

3. arabella - fuck my life WHY AM I NO ONE'S ARABELLA!!! ok let me bffr this song changed my life /j ok but the bridge is SO AKJSDKJASDK this song is so hot and i need to date someone who would write a song like this abt me HAHAHA but real talk this song is immaculate!

2. 505 - it would be a crime against humanity not to include this song bc it has permanently altered my brain chemistry. i mean, c'mon "i'd probably still adore you with your hands around my neck" and "but i crumble completely when you cry" I MEAN WHAT THE HELL . WHAT ABOUT MY MENTAL HEALTH??? the build-up to the beat drop in this song is so crazy i will never not be amazed by it basically go listen to 505 it will change your life!!!

1. snap out of it - i don't even know either. HAHAHASKJDSKJD okay i have such a weird attachment to this song that i cried real tears hearing it live. i honestly don't even know how to explain it i just Really Love this song aHHHH

honourable mentions : do i wanna know, fluorescent adolescent, why'd you only call me when you're high, i bet you look good on the dancefloor, crying lightning, brianstorm & four out of five!

i'm so sorry i yapped a lot HDKSKJDKS i love talking abt my favourite artists, i hope that you like some of these songs too!! and also if you like arctic monkeys you might like the neighbourhood as well 👀 lmk if u give them a listen hehehe <333 and btw ilysm wave nonnie i am YOUR #1 fan!!!

#💌 — love letters !#🌊 anon💌

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imaginefe · 5 years

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Do you have any ideas for a +atk seliph? Im currently merging him but i nees ideas on how to make him stronger because his res and spd are pretty bad

it depends how much you want to invest in him nonnie!

for his special i see most people give him aether but miracle could work for shenanigans too with his tyrfing ref

for a skill i think hed work well with a bond skill but personally i run him with earth boost bc high hp boy but you could also go with sturdy stance if you wanna bank on his defense

b skill he does great with wrath but its a pretty expensive skill…. if you wanna use him for enemy phase i think qr2/3 could work too?

c skill i would reccommend a res/def wave i think… depending on which tyrfing youre running him with and what you actually want him to do… def wave would be nice if youre going divine tyrfing and res would be good if youre worried about his res

#answers #notwriting #im not good at building units anon fjdncj #you could go with some absolutely monkey brain build like..#darting stance skill + seal or darting blow + seal and spd wave to make a sonic speed seliph #dc/qr3/res wave/warding stance seal + divine tryfing to say fuck mages actually

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goddess-pan · 3 years

Text

Tailor!Reader in Dream SMP

Dsmp x reader prompt; Tailor!Reader in Dream SMP. Credit would be appreciated so more people can find this and make their own things based on it.

Can fully be read as platonic. GN!reader with they/them pronounce as a placeholder so anyone can adapt it however they want. Both general and character specific parts included.

Characters who have a lot written for/about; Eret, Ranboo, Foolish, Tommy, Technoblade, Philza and Michael. Mentioned; Tubbo, Sam Nook, Purpled and Foolish Jr.

This ended up being super long so I’m putting it under the cut in order not to clutter people’s pages. My personal favourite part is Phil’s and Techno’s part. These could be read as headcanons but are still available as a prompt(s) to use for anyone.

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

The reader joining after the doomsday as a time frame in my mind.

The reader helping people patch up their current clothes since most of it got pretty banged up during the doomsday, and it's not like they can just go get a new outfit since quite a few people had just lost all their belongings and only had the clothes on their back. So at first prioritizing helping patch up the current clothing people were wearing and then moving on to making some simple fast to make and easy on the resources clothes for people. Just like basic shirts and shorts/pants, nothing fancy. Then when everyone has at least a couple of different clothes to change to and from starting their own business to sell people more if they wanted. However waving payment if they brought them the materials and what they wanted wasn't overly complicated.

People at first thinking they are just some chump who knows basic sewing or something. A very kind chump, but still a chump. So imagine their surprise when one day they are just walking by the reader's now established tailors and they see these absolutely stunning designs displayed at the windows.

Just like their reactions seeing these beautiful designs they can't help but stare at. I'd imagine some of them just doing a double take when they walk by, someone pressing their face up to the glass trying to see it closer, the braver ones going inside and talking to the reader about their designs and the more anxious and/or shy ones only going inside when the reader isn't there to look at designs closer.

And the reasons they like/are amazed by the designs vary also ! Some just have monkey brain that goes "Pretty. WANT", some who just love the colour and art of the pieces, some who imagine how epic this design or others would look on them, some who love the fashion aspect of it and of course the very small portion who actually know anything about tailoring/sewing and the amount of work that goes into making something intricate.

Some specific character/group interactions I thought of;

Making warm well insulated clothes for people moving to Snowchester so they don't freeze. +A warm cape for Ranboo for the same reason.

Eret being one of the firsts (if not the first) to get himself a fully tailored and customized outfit. Them also being the first and very possibly only person to get a dress or a skirt since most of the other people on the server prefer to wear pants (excluding maid dresses which people might get as joke). The reader crying in joy for getting to design something different for once. And hey if the reader ends up making a few extra ones that she didn't order, but decided to give her anyway it was all just some extra ones they had lying around, never mind the fact that the dresses/skirts are perfectly tailored for Eret and are her style. Just a coincidence, nothing suspicious there. Eret also models for the reader and once he even convinced them to hold a fashion show to showcase some of their work to the whole server. Of course he was the main model presenting the outfits.

At start of the reader beginning to display their designs at their shop Ranboo sees a really cool looking suit on display and his brain just goes "Want." He probably wouldn't be able to buy anything pre-made and be comfortable in it due to his physique. And him having just moved into the arctic and only starting to get settled in, he doesn't have comfortable enough funds for him to get something as expensive as a custom tailored suit AND have enough for any possible rent that he might be required to pay.

Eventually when he gets richer he starts considering getting one but the anxious side of him always ends up winning and he doesn't. However once he finally gets the courage to go commission the suit for himself he doesn't regret it at all. The reader did their best to not overwhelm him and to make it the best possible experience. Just imagining the absolute joy he would feel for having a properly fitting suit that's made just for him, not too short sleeves nor too wide torso and shoulders, just perfect. If he ends up ordering a couple more suits that's between him and the reader. He actually ends up probably being their most frequent and reliable customer.

And we should all know why that is, but let me clarify just in case; Michael.

The reader basically becoming Michael's personal stylist (/hj) . Not only does Ranboo buy a god awful amount of clothes for Michael, the reader also makes some free ones for him. The free ones are things the reader felt like designing since they absolutely adore Michael and the ones Ranboo pays for are commissioned by him. Michael absolutely has the biggest wardrobe in the whole server. The reader learning how to make plushies so Michael could have some more toys, this learning experience including learning to crochet and knit to see what he like best.

Using their newly acquired plush making skills, the reader starts their quest to make some plushies for others after seeing people stare at the plushies wistfully either while they were working on them or seeing Michael with the plushies. People who got them include the minors, their close friends and basically anyone they thought might benefit from them. Some of the ones they made (that I could think of);

Of course a bee for Tubbo, but also throwing in a little ram one as well

Ranboo gets a grass block plush/pillow

Tommy gets a cobblestone block plush and a cow plush. He also later receives a Sam Nook plush while he's working on the hotel

Purpled getting two different sized ufos, one to hold and the other more of a big pillow

Eret definitely gets a flamingo plush

Foolish gets a totem and a gold block plushies

Phil gets crow plush as well these tiny fake coin and gem plushies (the latter causes problems for him which I'll expand upon later)

Techno gets a pig one as well as polar bear one

Back to the individual/group part

The reader just chilling w/ Foolish as a fellow artists. Them talking about both their arts and catching up every time the reader comes to deliver something to Snowchester when Foolish is building the mansion. Just two pretty peaceful artists talking about their passions. I’d imagine Foolish and the reader could relate to each other and their place in the server due to their similar hobbies/jobs as well as their similar time of joining the server. Foolish's first commission from them being an intricate blanket for Foolish Jr so he could have a more comfortable resting place. He may or may not end up receiving that and several other (though less intricate) blankets as well as a tiny shark plush to give to Foolish Jr. Later on when the reader gets better at either knitting or crocheting they end up making a tiny shark jumper with a hood for Foolish Jr as well. Foolish would definitely cry when he sees his tiny shark baby. Any commissions of clothes for himself tend to always take some time due to sheer amount of work needing to be done due to his size so he always makes sure the reader doesn’t already have a lot on their plate and that they know he’s fine with waiting if they need to take a break from it.

Then there's Tommy, who they sometimes teach more about sewing since he already knows some basics. Him probably being the first person aside from Michael they make a plush for, due to him demanding one once he saw the reader making them. Then proceeding to get three plushies in rapid succession. The first being the cobblestone, the second being the cow and the third one being the Sam Nook one. He ends up losing one of them during the prison fiasco and when the reader asks if he'd like a new one they only get the answer of "Don't want to think about what happened and the same one might make me do that". He then promptly receives new clothing (so he isn't wearing the same ones he was wearing in prison) and some extra blankets (for comfort) from the reader.

After Tommy meeting Michael does he use him to scam the reader to make them matching outfits for free? Yes, yes he does. Does it work? Yes, yes it does. Are they bothered by it? Not really, they look adorable in their matching outfits.

The reader being the source for Sam Nook's construction gear/clothes or at least the original patterns for them.

And then there's the arctic boys (minus Ranboo, who will still get mentioned) who are an interesting bunch clothing wise. The first one to commission the reader out of them would be Phil who got the original warm cape for Ranboo but also at the same time commissioned one for himself that would include slits for his wings. Eventually getting to design clothing for him which is always an exciting challenge with his wings. And when Phil finally manages to convince Techno to get something made for himself as well, Techno almost immediately gets addicted to having high quality clothing when they finish their first piece for him. The fun the reader has designing clothes for these boys is immeasurable with their different styles and needs in the clothing. Aside from clothing Techno also commissions them for a pet bed for Steve.

When the boys got their plushies it was adorable but also a very chaotic. Techno giving his pig one to Steve so he wouldn't miss him when he was away from home, but also bringing the polar bear one with him when he couldn't or wasn't allowed to bring Steve with him but still needed comfort. While on Phil's side of things; he was showing his crows the crow plushie joking about he'll replace them if they aren't careful however he made the mistake of showing them the tiny coin and gem plushies as well. I want you to imagine hundreds of crows descending upon this poor fool of a man in the background while the reader is walking away hoping they like their plushies.

The war that ensued the couple following days amongst the crows starts to cool down but the bickering doesn't, every waking moment Phil can feel eyes on him and one or more of the crows coming to complain about the others having had the shiny plushies for too long. He quickly caves under the pressure and commissions more of the tiny shiny treasure plushies. And by more I mean a lot more.

When he finally has enough of the things he goes around distributing them to the crows. Finally a moment of peace, but he still feels like something is staring at him occasionally. Deciding to ignore it since it's finally quiet he goes to makes himself a cup of tea and while waiting for the water to boil he fishes out the few shiny plushies he had saved for himself. The second he does he feels eyes burning into him and now that it's quiet he hears it, quiet muffled snuffles and snorts of discontent. Then he sees what ‘it’ is, it's Techno behind the window looking at the shinies in his hand with such intensity Phil fears for his life (/hj). Phil just sighs deeply before walking over to the window and opening it. For a second Techno looks like a deer in headlights before returning to intensely staring at the shinies in Phil's hand before Phil just dumps the shiny plushies into Techno's hand and closes the window. Happy piglin noises can be heard outside while Phil debates the pros (getting to have shinies himself) and cons (the embarrassment of having to commission even more of the shiny plushies than he already has) of getting new ones from the reader. And in all this the reader has no idea the amount of chaos they inadvertently caused.

And finally; Techno commissioning robes/cloaks for whole the Syndicate to wear in their meetings, because he’s dramatic like that. But since he’s a thoughtful guy, he wants them all to fit the members well and not be uncomfortable to wear so he gets everyone’s measurements. Once he has them all he goes to the reader with the order for the robes, he has all the measurements written down under just Person 1, Person 2 etc. to keep their anonymity and when asked what the robes are for he just tells the reader it’s a book club. When he gets them all and the reader asks no further questions he thinks he’s gotten away with getting some cool robes for the Syndicate with their secrets safe. Little does he know the reader actually now knows all the members in the Syndicate since they can just reference the gotten measurements with everyone’s measurements written down from previous work done by them. Whether the reader thinks it’s some weird cult they all are a part of or just an actual book club people are too embarrassed to admit they are in, is up to interpretation.

#dsmp x reader #dsmp fanfic #dream smp x reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt fanfiction #Pans Writing Prompts #C: Technoblade #C: Ranboo #C: Philza #C: FoolishG #C: Eret #C: TommyInnit #C: Michael_Beloved

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skellebonez · 3 years

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The prompt you wrote with baby MK was extremely cute, but it also gave me an idea that wouldn't leave my brain: Imagine that same situation, but with Mei and Macaque. This is an open prompt, you can do with this whatever you like!

MK isn’t the only one who gets to have this kind of curse/ailment anymore! And I can’t resist putting this in the Cursed AU specifically, simply because I love the idea of this Macaque being confronted face first with the fact he actually cares. Even if it happens 200 times.

"What in the absolute hell are we supposed to do now?" Macaque groaned out, looking around the both of them for any indication of an escape that didn't involve him leaving Mei behind. Which was looking slimmer and slimmer if he didn’t want her to be in more physical danger than she already was. So. Stranded it was.

"I can still help!" Mei insisted, crossing her arms and standing her ground with a wide smirk. "I'm not powerless you know!"

"Never said you were, Jade," Macaque acknowledged instantly, tensing for a half moment when he realized how much he had to be attached to say something like that so fast. He forced himself to relax once again, no point in adding more fuel to the fire of worry that laid between them. "This just makes things complicated."

Oh yeah... complicated, that was one way to put it, definitely. If Macaque was being generous. And ignoring the fact that Mei wasn’t even 4 feet tall... and 4 years old. Physically.

Macaque was supposed to be on official mystic monkey business alone. Or at least that’s what he told Mei and MK to hopefully keep them out of his fur, but apparently Mei had other ideas. Like sneaking onto the private boat he had paid for to be taken to this secluded island far out into the ocean undetected, much farther than Mount Huaguo was. How she managed to sneak past security he may never know, now would he know how she managed to stay hidden for their 7 hour journey, and he would never admit that he was genuinely impressed.

He genuinely had not known she joined him until after the boat left, leaving them both stranded for at least the next 24 hours.

Horray.

Things had actually been going pretty ok, for the most part, after she had made herself known. In actuality Macaque was here to hunt down a specific item of his he had left behind on the island years ago, nothing really world shattering just... important to him. He knew that it would be safe here when he left it, the island as uninhabited and out of the way for humans to come to as it was.

But he also knew many powerful demons occasionally used this island as a hiding ground for when they were injured or planning something, against the owner’s wishes. And unfortunately one such demon just happened to be there on the one day of the while year he planned on coming.

That demon was deader than anything else on this island at the moment. Macaque hadn’t tried to kill him, not really, but they had lobbed something at him that Mei jumped in front of and he reacted on instinct.

If the thing had hit him in the first place they would probably be just fine. A decade and a half off his life span was nothing, unless it was set to a specific age in which... well, he was already able to do most of what he could do as a child so they still probably would have been ok. And hopefully she would be, if his memory served this particular demon was talented only in making temporary cursed and potions... mostly.

He hoped.

“Are you certain using your powers won’t hurt you?” Macaque asked, staring down at the short girl before him.

“I don’t think so?” Mei said with a shrug. “I mean, I’ve kinda had them for as long as I remember so... probably not.”

“Let’s not take that chance,” Macaque said with a sigh, looking around the beach. There was nothing for him to use, no emergency radio or boat. The best they had found on their entire search was a dinky little shelter. “It looks like our best bet would be to hunker down in that building and wait until mid day tomorrow for the boat to return. Provided there aren’t any more demons around we should be fine...”

“I can build a fire!” Mei proclaimed, running off before Macaque could even hope to catch her.

Something pulled in his chest, a protective thrum that he hadn’t felt since... since his journey with MK, but was becoming increasingly common the more time he spent training Mei. And he hadn’t felt that for so long he had forgotten what it felt like when it happened then, so unfamiliar with the desire to protect his old home and monkey friends of Mount Huaguo.

He would never admit even to himself that that feeling was “caring”. At least not yet.

“Jade, get back here!” Macaque yelled, moving to rush off after her before she came barreling back herself with armfuls of sticks and pine cones.

“I got everything we need!” She laughed and threw everything down in front of the building, looking around. “Did you see any rocks?”

“I know how to build a fire,” Macaque said softly, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “We probably don’t even need one.”

“Aw, but this is like a camping trip now!” Mei said, flailing her arms in the direction of the sticks. “I’ve even got marshmallows in my backpack!”

“Why did you bring m-never mind,” Macaque groaned, rubbing his face and sighing deeply. “OK. We’ll build a fire.”

It had gone better than hoped, actually. Macaque was able to start the fire with ease and Mei had apparently thought ahead enough that she’s brought the ingredients to make something called s’mores. Macaque had never seen them before, either they were new or they were a foreign treat, but MK had mentioned them to him on their journey and he had to admit... they were nice.

He just wished the gooey marshmallow didn’t stick to his fur so bad.

“And then MK did something that made the clone glow gold and explode into a bazillion pieces of hair!” Mei said, sweeping her arms out as she finisher her story. “And that’s how MK created and saved me from Porty Clone.”

“Sound like MK’s clones had quite the variety to them,” Macaque said with a smile. He’d relaxed over the evening, the normal sounds of the island confirming to him that it was just the two of them now and that at the very least they were safe from attack for the moment. “No wonder he’s careful not to overuse them.”

“Yeah, but Porty was pretty fun until he went overboard,” Mei replied, words cutting off with a yawn and a shiver as the wind picked up. “What time is it?”

Macaque looked up, watching the moon and the stars. “Late enough that it would be best to get some rest. We don’t want to miss the boat after all.”

“Hey, you only paid them half so they better come looking for you if you don’t show up!” She laughed out, making her way into the building as Macaque dumped sand on the fire to douse it. Just in case, don’t need the island catching fire with the wind. “ So uh... what are you going to tell them about... me?”

“That I came here looking for you,” he said plainly, shutting the door behind them. The moonlight shone through the windows of the shelter, giving them just enough light to see the one sad little cot it housed, right next to the massive stock of canned food they had also raided for dinner. He pulled the blanket on the cot back, grimacing at the dust on the blanket but satisfied with the condition of everything under it. He went outside to shake it out and make it usable again. “They know I was looking for something and that’s all they need to know.”

“What were you looking for anyway, Hot Topic?” Mei asked after a moment, watching Macaque make the bed again. “And how do you... know about this place?”

“... it’s mine, actually,” he said quietly, looking around the sad shelter. Unfurnished, cold and empty, with only the island itself and non-perishable food for survival. “I haven’t been back in a long time and most know to stay away, but sometimes demons don’t care. I was looking for something... unimportant.”

“It must have been important if you came all this way to find it,” Mei said, yawning again and rubbing her eyes.

“Ok, that’s enough of that!” Macaque exclaimed, hoping his glamor was hiding the embarrassed flush of his ears at her accusation. “Time for sleep!”

Without giving her a second to protest Macaque grabbed her around the waist with his tail and deposited her under the now clean enough blanket before forcibly tucking her in.

“Hey!” She protested, scowling at him once her arms were free. “I can’t sleep yet!”

“Why not?” Macaque chanced, wondering if he was going to regret this.

“You never told me a story.”

“... huh?”

“At the camp fire!” Mei insisted, leaning over the bed to grab her backpack and hold it to herself like it was a stuffed animal (which wasn’t hard since it was... basically a hollow stuffed dragon anyway). “I told you a bunch of stories about me and MK and Piggy and Tangy and Sandy and you didn’t tell me anything about you and the Monkey King! So spill one, I’m not going to sleep until you do!”

Macaque wanted to say no, wanted to glare at Mei until she just went to sleep through sheer exhaustion, wanted to walk out of the building and just stand guard at the door instead... but he kept looking into her teeny tiny 4 year old glower and he couldn’t help but sigh in defeat.

“Fine...” He said after a moment, moving to sit at the head of the bed. He watched as Mei smiled widely, making herself comfortable. “Let’s see... where should we begin... How about the time Wukong thought it would be a good idea to challenge the whole island to 1 on 1 combat for the title of king because he was bored, long before his proper training?”

“That sounds like him,” Mei said, smiling into her backpack with another yawn as she closed her eyes. “Yeah... tell that one.”

“OK, so this was only a little while after he jumped through the waterfall...”

And Macaque went on and on, giving much more detail than necessary, watching as Mei slowly relaxed until she eventually nodded off before the story even got close to the ending.

Which was... probably good for Macaque, to be honest.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out the item he had come here to find. It was simple, all things considered. A little carved crown, made from wood and preserved carefully through the years, far too small for his head and more of a bracelet. Wukong had made it for him when their own duel, the final one of the whole island, ended in a draw all those centuries ago. A show of how they could, maybe, rule the mountain together one day. He’d left it here so long ago that he worried it would have been destroyed or fallen apart over time.

Apparently Wukong knew a little something about what he was doing back then after all.

Macaque smiled, slipping it back into his pocket as he slid off the bed to sit against it, all six ears fluttering out to listen to the island around them. Just in case.

Mei slept mostly soundly behind him and if she started to whine in the beginnings of a nightmare and he turned around to soothe her and whisper that he was there and she was alright well... that would be something to talk about if she remembered it.

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #gen fic #deage fic #six eared macaque #mei #long xiaojiao #cursed au #dad macaque #i couldn't help adding in a little idea i had with him and wukong at the end #since this is pretty much non-canon to the au anyway

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dumbass-duo-showdown · 10 months

Text

Preliminary Battle 4

Roronoa Zoro & Luffy vs Trafalgar Law & Monkey D Luffy vs Monkey D Luffy, Tragfalgar D Water Law, Eustass Kid (kidlulaw) (all from one piece)

Only one group can join the bracket

Propaganda under the cut

(also semi obligatory mention for @onepiece-polls)

Zoro & Luffy

I could rant about them for actual hours but like it's so hard to put thoughts down. But literally an actual quote was someone telling Zoro that "you promised you wouldn't cause trouble" and Zoro replies, EXACT WORDS, "I had no choice because I ran into Luffy." There was also an exchange where Zoro was giving Luffy food and Luffy warns him it might be poison while eating it and Zoro is just like "huh, so that's why my stomach was hurting". They also both swung from vines once and BOTH decided to Tarzan yell. They agreed it was a requirement. Also, Luffy once said he didn't wanna be a hero because heros would share their meat and he wants all of it, and Zoro entirely separately says the SAME THING BUT WITH BOOZE INSTEAD. There are so many examples of them sharing a single braincell. More than I could ever list. But those are the examples I thought of off the top of my head.

On the surface, Zoro seems to have some common sense, and only follows Luffy’s dumb schemes out of respect. Then Nami joins and you realize that Zoro’s seriousness IS his dumbassedness. He and Luffy have one track minds for their own goals and wants, and while they may clash, they have a decent amount of respect for each other.

haven’t finished one piece yet but one example: zoro when stuck figured cutting off his feet would be a genius idea and luffy is luffy. there’s never any thoughts going on in that head

When I first started One Piece I thought Zoro was going to be the badass smart counterpart to the dumbass protagonist just like Vegeta or Sasuke. Turns out I couldn't be more wrong. Him and Luffy are besties and share one brain cell and even thou Zoro uses it most of the time it's still one.

They share one single braincell at the same time: after being seriously injured in a battle, one wakes up to drink sake the other to eat meat. One almost cut a Noble (which means being pursued til death by the most powerful marines), the other actually punches said Noble. One gest stuck between buildings, the other inside a chimney for absolutely unrelated reasons

Their solution to everything is to fight it. They never have a plan and just rush into everything. Somehow they are technically the leaders of the group as captain and first mate. They have both at some point attempt to cut or tear their legs or arms off to get out something. They used the same metaphor to explain why they aren’t a hero without hearing the other say it (a hero would share their meat/booze I want to keep it all to myself).

they said let us cut/punch a hole trough a giant tsunami and they did it <3 also one time they were suppossed to lay low, but well they both immediately started robbing and attacking a town and being recognized and labeled as criminals in a new country. they don't even share a braincell, whatever braincell they had before immediately leave as soon as they both are together, also King of the Pirates and World Greatest Swordsman dreamteam, also for lasagne thing not only would the house be gone, the city be burning and they are fleeing the police while also fighting the police

They're just soooo stupid. Zoro can't walk to steps without getting lost. So Luffy will yank him miles through the air to land on wood. Or stone. Or some other hard substance. Luffy would fight someone on accident for meat. And Zoro for booze. And they have no brain cells between them. Zoro new Luffy for approx. 3 seconds before he decided he would die for him. And Luffy heard about this big scary bounty hunter who was captured by marines and went. I need him on my crew. They're perfect for each other.

I dont where to begin. One of their latest feats though is them going into the enemy base, Meaning to sneak in, Luffy went in after another guy, Zoro after Luffy, luffy then Announced himself, started a fight bc ppl wasted food on purpose, ZORO hearing a commotion, SLICED THROUGH A BUILDING TO GET TO LUFFY AND THEN REPRIMANDED LUFFY FOR FORGETTING THE PLAN AND BEING UNABLE TO BE QUIET. THEN. T H E N LUFFY SAYS HE SPILT FOOD ON PURPOSE AND ZORO IS INSTANT LIKE oh ok. They gotta die. (Theres more to it but thats the gist. And thats not even. Much. They r just so stupid together <33)

they both get lost very easily, they will throw hands with anyone, very stupid but very understanding, were a 2 person pirate crew that sailed around on a rowboat, motivated entirely by fighting, meat, and sake, neither is particularly literate one time luffy got his hand stuck in a bottle and zoro tried to get it out by cutting his hand off, yes this happened in a canon episode

look, I have a tag for them that's literally #pair of idiots.

Law & Luffy

Menaces (affectionate). Destroyed a country together despite throwing practically every step of the plan out the window.

Feral Jungle Gremlins. When they were little they would beat up thugs and steal their cash. They would dine and dash and then formally thank the owner without seeing anything wrong with doing that. The first time we met them in series Luffy sent Ace through several buildings without realizing it. They each have the energy of a little shit but it multiplies by a thousand percent whenever they're in proximity to each other. They love each other so sososososo much and I am STILL bitter about marineford.

Kidlulaw

They had a competition where "First one to dodge the giant fireball is a coward!" They all got hit.

They are all so powerful and they make each other even dumber

omg they share one braincell. Law usually has it, but when the three of them are together, it's hard to find any braincell. Luffy: "The first to dodge this (possibly fatal) attack is a loser!" - Law: "I'm not playing your idiot games!" - Kid: "See, coming up with stupid contests like that is why you guys are small-fry" - Luffy: "Okay, I guess you're just losers then" - All three proceed to play the 'game' then, keeping a close eye on the other to see if they dogde, all three getting hit right in the face by it.

Too busy trying to outdo each other to bother with brain cells. Law may have a couple on a good day, but he loses them when he comes within ten feet of the other two

They are literally so stupid but somehow the best pirates of their generation

they're idiots and i love them (platonically)

They've had a few of battles together (both canon and movies (stampede), and all they do is fight and try to one up each other. If you're not following OP or if you're up to date. Then I suggest looking for episodes 978 and 1016. There are more but these are good.

Law is usually calm and collected. Luffy and Kid are impulsive. When they're all together, Kid's impulsiveness grows, and Law loses all sense. Luffy (and Kid) suggest idiotic challenges, and all three take them up because they can't back down, even though they know better (well, Law does, and sometimes Kid does, and sometimes Luffy does too).

The picture you had in the Lasagna stats. That's it. They are dumb and get even dumber in each other's presence. They don't allow any of the other two to take the lead, so they make stupid decisions. (Like that one time when there were 3 enemy ships and they all didn't want the others to be the one to destroy an enemy ship so they all went after the same ship, which they utterly destroyed, and then bickered about who was the one to destroy it. While they could have... each... gone... for... a seperate... ship.) They are like 3 captains on a ship, but they're not taking shifts. instead, they're all captening it at the same time, and will sleep at the same time too, probably.

fun fact i was unable to use the og link so i put the collage photo from the lasagna scale in MSPAINT and tried to use it to get this specific panel

They played chicken with a massive attack from one of the most dangerous people in the world because they wanted to one up each other.

#dumbass duo showdown #dds preliminary #preliminary poll #polls #i love polls #tumblr tournament #tumblr tourney #one piece #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro #trafalgar law #eustass kid #kidlulaw

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silky-stories · 3 years

Note

Hi!! Maybe headcanons or some kind of literature with either vampire garcello x reader or mermaid garcello x reader?? You could do both or one or the other. You're the one writing it after all. Thanks!

Oh. Ohohohohohohoho, now we’re talking >:)

Anon I am going to let you in on a little secret, so anyone who isn’t anon look away >:(

...okay now that it’s just you and me, one of your suggestions kind of predicted a oneshot I’ve been working on that I’m going to be posting soon. So because of that I’ll be going with the other option. Hope you enjoy ;3

———————————————————————

Parched. {Vampire Garcello/Reader}

Genre: Suggestive

Words: 2027

Related Song: Arctic Monkeys - Do I Wanna Know { slowed + reverb}

Summary: When your boyfriend gets home from a long day, it’s only polite to fix him a drink, don’t you think?

Disclaimer/s: Steamy content, swearing, blood

Notes: Garcello speaks in red this time, Reader speaks in blue ;) [Also, monster character x reader or character x monster reader is my absolute jam, feel free to send in requests like this more often-]

———————————————————————

Your boyfriend was, to put it lightly, a little bit on the odd side.

He work dark clothes on hot days, didn’t like the sun very much, had an uncanny sense of smell and hearing, and liked his meat pretty rare. To the outside world he was a weird shut-in that was probably goth, but you knew a hell of a lot more than that.

The two of you had met late at night in a rougher part of the city. You were on your way home from picking up a few essentials at the nearby 24-hour convenience store when you heard some rustling coming from an alleyway. Then some banging. Then some yelling. Then silence.

Well that was ominous as hell.

...

Time to investigate.

You made your way down the dreary alley, groceries in hand, preparing yourself to see a murder scene or something of the like and...

...you honestly weren’t that far off.

You found yourself watching as a man pinned a guy to a wall, his head lowered to his neck. At first you felt yourself getting embarrassed, figuring that you had walked over and unintentionally interrupted a passionate moment. You quickly realized that wasn’t the case when you watched the guy go limp in the arms of the larger man.

After a few moments of you being the quietest you’ve ever been in your life, standing and staring in shock, not knowing what would even be the right course of action for a situation like this, he pulled away. The guy that had previously gone limp slowly slid down the brick wall, deep red trickling down his neck and pooling in the crook of his shoulder. The aqua-haired man let out a sigh as he wiped his mouth with his gloved hands, still unaware of your presence.

Your mind was blank when you spoke up, it had to be for you to do something so bold yet stupid.

“Is he dead?”

The man flinched, hard, and whipped around to lock eyes with you. You were met with two bright red dots staring back at you, stunned, you began to unintentionally study his face.

The dark crimson that you had seen on the possibly-dead man’s neck was also identifiable as a smear on this guy’s face, starting at his lips and trailing off along his cheek where he had tried to wipe it off. His lips were slightly agape, revealing a set of sizeable fangs, as well as other teeth that seemed sharper than a regular human’s teeth should be. Looking down further you noticed that his gloves were fingerless, presumably to allow the sharp claws of nails that he had to stick out.

Other than all of that though he looked like a pretty normal guy. A pretty normal guy with very pale skin, but normal nonetheless.

“I... huh..?”

You were so busy taking in his clearly inhuman appearance that you actually forgot what you had initially asked for a moment, but restated your question when it came back to you.

I mean, what was there to lose at this point? It’s not like running seemed like a very smart option.

“Him. Is... is he dead?”

You pointed at the man that was currently almost falling over in his slump to emphasize your point. The man in front of you took a double take between you and what may have been a dead body before responding, clearly taking in the absurdity of the situation, similar to you.

“He’s... no he’s... passed out I...”

He paused, blinking a few times as he tried to process what was even happening. You took the moment to look at the body a little more critically and, surprise surprise, noticed that he was actually breathing.

“I didn’t... I didn’t take much so he’s just...”

Didn’t take much?

...

Oh.

Oh shit.

Suddenly the whole ordeal just clicked in your brain as you finally understood what it was that you were looking at.

“You’re a vampire!”

The words left your mouth before you could stop them, shocked and questioning, almost accusatory as your eyes went wide.

He didn’t seem to like that though. His brows pulling together tightly in sudden concern as he frantically looked around for any other possible witnessess. When he reinitiated eye contact he appeared quite a bit more panicked than before, more like someone that had been caught doing something arguably wrong. He looked threatening for the first time throughout the encounter.

“You... what do you plan on doing..?”

Plan on doing? Like what you were going to do after this? Knowing that vampires did in fact exist and at least one lived in your city?

“Do you... ever kill them?”

He shook his head warily.

“Then... I don’t... think I care?”

He was surprised to hear that, to be fair though, so were you. You figured you would care more about catching a literal vampire in the act but... he wasn’t killing anyone so was it really any of your business?

“You... you don’t care that I just drink some of his blood???”

“I guess not?”

You let out a chuckle of disbelief at your own statement, any ounce of a threatening or intimidating expression had left his face.

“He’s not gonna, like... turn into a vampire or die of disease or something later, right?”

“No that’s uh, not how it works...”

“Then just like... I don’t know, make sure he gets cleaned up and home safe and this stays between us I guess.”

He let you know that that’s what he did on a regular basis and after a few more awkward moments you were on your way.

That definitely wasn’t your last interaction though.

He didn’t trust you to keep your word, you honestly couldn’t really blame him, and you ended up catching glimpses of him watching you from alleyways or tops of buildings at night. It was kind of worrying at first but eventually it got to the point that you would just smile and wave if you saw him.

Eventually he would wave back.

Sometime down the road and you learned his name. Months later and you found an odd friendship forming, starting with you asking him to come in on a particularly rainy night.

Even later and you found yourself developing feelings, getting to know who he really was. His personality, his struggles, his fears. He really wasn’t a bad guy, he just had no other choice since regular food did nothing for him.

After half a year of your strange friendship you found yourselves together, he had happily moved into your apartment and you had started to acquire blood bags for him to use instead of people. That didn’t stop him from drinking straight from the source every now and then... although, the source he used had definitely changed.

“I’m home.”

You leaned out of the kitchen to smile at Garcello, he returned it with a warm grin, shucking off his coat and tossing it to the side to land on your shared couch.

“Welcome back! How was your day?”

You greeted him with open arms as soon as he meandered into the kitchen, he swiftly took up your non-verbal offer and swept you into his strong arms. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and inhaled, sighing deeply through his nose as he melted into the embrace.

“It went fine, certainly not my job of choice but I think the interview went alright.”

You hummed in acknowledgment and nuzzled your head against his, pleased to have him back in your arms after half a day without him.

“I made sure to get bread and milk like you asked.”

You chuckled as you spotted the brown paper bag he had set on the counter.

“Thank you.”

He continued to hold you like that, peppering your cheek and jawline with a few kisses as he told you more about his day. Although, there seemed to be a shift in his attitude somewhere along the way. He suddenly went from sweet and giddy to much quieter, giving shorter answers when you asked him a question as he let you lead the conversation.

You decided to bring it up, just in case there was something wrong.

“Hey, are you alright?”

“Hmm?”

“You just... you went kinda quiet so I just wanted to make sure.”

He was perfectly silent as he thought over his answer.

“Yes, but... are you... working on anything right now?”

His tone was anticipatory, eagerly awaiting your response. You found yourself suspicious of his intentions.

“Well, no, I was just putting away some dishes that I was washiNG-!”

You were caught off guard by his tongue dragging across your neck in a smooth motion, tightly taking hold of the back of his t-shirt as he did so. You felt him smirk against your neck afterwards.

“That’s good... you see, I have a bit of a problem.”

“Y...y-yeah...?”

“Yeah...”

You flinched as he brushed one of his fangs against the top of your shoulder.

“The thing is, I’ve had a bit of a... craving today.”

One of his claw-like nails came up to trace along your sternum...

“It’s been just... driving me mad.”

Your collarbone...

“Itching the back of my brain...”

Your sternocleidomastoid muscle...

“Funny, right?”

Stopping and hovering just above one of your carotid arteries.

“Yeah... f... funny...”

His smirk grew in response to your reactions, nuzzling your neck affectionately with a huff.

“I guess what I’m trying to ask is...”

He tilted his head up to whisper in your ear.

“...would you mind if I had a little taste?”

Your eyes fluttered shut as you leaned into him, not even having to speak for him to know what your answer was. He had waited for that cue though, just like usual he would never drink from you unless he was certain that you were fine with it. Even then, you both had a very clear safe word that you had used in the past if anything went wrong or you changed your mind.

You didn’t really have to worry about that though. You knew you were safe in his hands.

He purred in response to your willingness, slowly walking you back and gently pinning you to the wall.

“God you smell good right now...”

He lowered his head back down to your neck, finding the spot that he had traced up to and licking a small stripe along it, pinpointing the location of your pulse.

“...bet you’d... taste even better though...”

He was gentle as always when he bit down, it only felt like a pinch until the aphrodisiac kicked in, immediately erasing any sense of pain you had. Being guided by one of his hands that had tangled itself in your hair, your head lolled to the side as he drank from you. A gentle moan erupted from your lips as your grip on his shirt went slack, your arms falling limp beside you as bliss took hold of your thoughts.

“F... fuck...”

He purred louder as you gave clear indication of your enjoyment. The hand that he had propping himself up against the wall fell and came to rest on your hip, gripping tightly as the hand he had on the back of your head made soft contact with the wall instead.

He cut himself off a little bit sooner than usual, pulling away just enough for you to watch him lick his lips and fangs clean.

He chuckled as the hand that raked through your hair slid down to cup your cheek.

“...I was right, you taste amazing...”

His expression didn’t lose it’s smugness though, usually when he was done he would take a much softer turn and patch you up immediately.

“Although, I think I might have put a little too much aphrodisiac in your system sweetheart...”

He was right, you felt like a rag doll right now, nearly putty in his hands as the only thing keeping you standing at the moment was his grip on your torso. Your eyes had glazed over slightly and you were practically panting at this point.

“...let’s do something about that, hmm~?”

#garcello x reader #fnf garcello x reader #garcello #fnf garcello #x reader #self insert #suggestive #request #one shot #garcello but with a little spice #i hope i did alright with this one #i don’t write for vampires very often haha #panic anon

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legends-live-in-memories · 3 years

Text

Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century

AYO! Day 2 of MGI Trope Tussle! Team Enemies-to-Lovers for the win. I bring you another oneshot. but this time i used 3 prompts like a dumbass.

Fics Masterlist

Daminette Oneshot 4.3K words (no warnings except slight cursing)

Summary:

“Marinette is invited to the Super-Rockin' Wedding of the Century and she needs a date. Alya is both her best and worst wingman.”

Day 2 of MGI Trope Tussle, I used 3 prompts to make this thing: 1. "You don't have to like me, you just need to pretend you do." 2. "I like your costume. You look very cute." "Are you making fun of me?" 3. 'Write about a very unusual wedding proposal.' this is the culmination of all my efforts.

without further ado:

It was the biggest news on the internet. Global sensation, international rockstar, Jagged Stone, was officially engaged to childhood friend turned manager, Penny Rolling. Memes and fan theories stormed every corner of the web. Trending topics including #rockstar_wedding and #RollingStone permeated every social media platform. Guest lists were speculated, dress designers were tagged in every post that even mentioned the words ‘wedding’ or ‘bride’. It was total mayhem but none felt it worse than up-and-coming Parisian designer, M. D. Cheng, privately known as Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

The young adult was up to her neck in design templates, and was drowning in half-baked ideas and sketches. While the internet has only heard about the proposal for a solid two weeks at this point, Marinette was in the know for six months. Jagged Stone had contacted her in advance because he needed her help with the proposal itself.

And what a proposal it was.

Jagged had outlined his idea in simple terms but it was still so mind-boggling that Marinette needed him to draw some visual aids to completely convey his idea. Initially it sounded simple enough but the more the man spoke, the more Marinette felt her brain fry at the mental picture. It first involved recreating a scene from Penny’s favourite movie. Which sounded rather romantic, if you ignored the fact that her favourite movie was Bride of Chucky. Then it involved Jagged dressed as the Tinman from Wizard of Oz. Oh, and the proposal had to happen on Halloween because that was the anniversary of their first date apparently, and based on everything else this plan entailed it might as well have been. Marinette’s role in all of this was to simply re-make the white wedding dress Chucky’s bride, Tiffany, wore because Penny already had the leather jacket to match. Of course she did. She didn’t even want to know how Jagged acquired the Tinman suit. Not her barrel of monkeys.

While many thought Jagged was the eccentric one of the pair, due to his loud personality and being an actual rockstar, the more Marinette worked for the two of them over the years, the more she learned how absolutely wrong they all were. It turned out it was Penny’s idea for Jagged to dye his hair purple, and she was the one to ask him out on Halloween all those faithful years ago. Her calm and collected demeanor was an impressive cover for the absolute weirdo she actually was. And Jagged had planned a proposal that was undoubtedly perfect for her. Regardless of how abso-fucking-lutely bizarre it was.

To each their own and let’s move on.

The set-up for the proposal started with Jagged, dressed as the Tinman, playing the part of Chucky, who begins the body-switching chant from the movie. Everything from that point on was resting on Penny’s love for the movie. Without hesitating, Penny, dressed as Tiffany, and playing her part, knew the lines by heart and immediately began reenacting the scene with Jagged. Her lines involved telling ‘Chucky’ to kiss her while she reaches for a knife that’s supposed to be in his pocket. Instead, as Jagged was still dressed as the Tinman, Penny pulled out a slip of paper. On said paper, the words ‘All the Tinman wanted was a heart’ were written in Jagged’s almost illegible chicken scratch. When Penny was distracted with the piece of paper, Jagged had gotten down on one knee and pulled out the engagement ring. The actual words of his proposal were never actually said because, upon seeing the ring, Penny flung herself into the man, clipping her chin into his metal-plated shoulder, but she wasn’t complaining.

So that was how the proposal went.

Wedding planning started almost immediately since the newly engaged had already picked a theme. And this is where Marinette began to regret every life choice she has made since she was thirteen; starting with opening the mysterious box she found on her desk and ending with agreeing to being the main designer for the Rockin’ Wedding of the Century. One thing that wasn’t well-known but not a secret about Jagged was that he was a superhero fan. He grew up enjoying the fictional ones in his childhood comic books and he adored the real ones he witnessed in his adult life. His song that he dedicated to the teenage Ladybug was only one part of his… appreciation. His hero-worship went so far as to beieve that a hero-themed wedding was appropriate. Or he didn’t, but also didn’t care about adhering to societal propriety and went with that theme anyways. So the Rockin’ Wedding of the Century was now the Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century. And twenty-three year old Marinette was incharge of the entire wedding party’s outfits.

Perfect.

As a small mercy from some god, both the bride and groom to-be had a rather short list of people in their parties. Marinette was also able to design appropriate hero-themed outfits for all of them and scheduled them for fittings in the coming weeks. That, surprisingly, was the easy part as there were plenty of heroes to draw inspiration from. However, that wasn’t the cause of her current crisis right now.

No. Marinette was up to her neck in unnecessary designs and ideas because she’s been avoiding one particular contingency in her acceptance of the wedding invitation.

She needed a date.

She needed a date because she had promised Penny that she wasn’t overworking herself and to prove it, she would bring a date to the wedding. Rather than call any of the people who expressed interest in her at some point in time, she designated herself to wallow in her situation and distract herself with designs. In the midst of her one person pity party, her phone rang under the sea of ripped out pages. She scoured for the device and hastily answered before she could accidently send the caller to voicemail.

“Hello?” She didn’t check the caller ID and was delighted at the sound of her best friend answering her.

“Marinette! How’s it going over there?” Alya’s voice was mixed in with the busy street life of Metropolis. She had moved there immediately after high school, snatching an internship with the Daily Planet and attending the local community college. She and Marinette don’t call often due to time differences, but when they do it’s like they’ve never parted. She always looked forward to her calls.

“It’s going great, Als,” if she ignored her current dilemma, then yeah, everything was perfect. “But you wouldn’t happen to have an available bachelor willing to be my date to the ‘Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century’ in your back pocket, would you?”

Alya’s answering laugh was both comforting and teasing and Marinette felt herself missing her even more. What she said next, however, took Marinette by surprise.

“Actually I do.”

“Pardon?”

“Well,” she took a pause to build suspense. “I know a guy who knows a guy. But it’s nothing shady, I swear.”

“That’s not comforting.” Oh god. What has she unintentionally signed herself up for?

“You know my coworker, Jon? The guy who does the photography for all my field work?” Alya had met Jon as soon as she had started her internship. Both of his parents were top journalists at the Daily Planet so he volunteered to act as tour guide for all the new interns. He and Alya, from the exasperated stories Marinette has heard from Nino, got along like a house on fire. If he was involved, Marinette was starting to doubt even further that this was going to end well for her.

“Yes, I know Jon. How is he by the way?”

“He’s fine, but I remember him telling me how he tried to set up his best friend on several dates over the years and how they all ended poorly. He’s as approachable as a brick wall; not just a prick but the whole damn cactus. Or so Jon says.” How does that sound like someone Marinette wanted to bring along with her to the wedding? “But he’s totally your type so I could ask Jon to wrap him up in bubblewrap and send him your way whenever you want.”

“How,” and Marinette said this with a lot of feeling, “is he my type exactly?”

“Green eyes with daddy issues.”

“ALYA!” Marinette was absolutely floored at her bluntness. She wasn’t even sorry about shouting into the receiver.

“Am I wrong? You have a type and he fits that type. Jon mentioned how this guy and his dad hit several roadblocks when they first met. And I’ve seen pictures of him so ‘green eyes’ checks too.”

“That is not my type of guy.” She can’t believe this was how this conversation was going.

“Adrien.”

“I didn’t even know who his father was at the time, Alya.”

“Felix.”

“His dad is dead! That doesn’t count as ‘daddy issues.’” She can feel her cheeks flaming as the call went on. Any hotter and she was going to set her sketchbooks on fire. “Besides, I dated Luka so he doesn’t fit the criteria.”

“He’s an outlier and that’s only because his eyes are blue.” Okay, fine she had a type. “And besides, you don’t even have to date the guy. You only need him to accompany you to the wedding and you both go your separate ways after. No harm, no foul.”

Right. That was true. No strings attached. She could do that.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but,” she held her breath and let it out loudly, ignoring Alya’s chuckle at her dramatics.” Give Jon my number to give this guy. And send his number to me.”

“Wahoo! Look at you, girl,” Alya was hooting and hollering over the speaker and Marinette found herself going along with the theatrics. “Okay, I will. But I gotta go, my cab is here. Bye!”

“Bye! Stay safe. Oh before you go, what’s Jon’s friend’s name anyways?”

“Uh, Damian, I think.” The call ended before Marinette could respond, but it was okay she mused. Tossing her phone onto her couch, she flopped down onto her floor and stared at her ceiling contemplatively.

What could go wrong?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Alya had described this Damian guy as ‘not just a prick but the whole damn cactus,’ she was right. Marinette had been texting back and forth with Damian for a month, and the guy was making this idea seem less and less worth it by the day. Whenever Marinette tried to learn more about the guy, he would ghost her for days on end before replying with a half-assed response at best. She knew nothing about him other than that his first name was Damian and that he was from Gotham. She had no idea how the ball of life that was Jon was even friends with someone like Damian. She asked as much to Alya in their most recent call.

“How did they even meet?” She was pacing the floor plan of her apartment, ready to tear her hair out. “Did Damian bully him in school or something?”

“Apparently their dads knew each other and introduced them,” Alya sounded half awake, stifling a yawn; probably because Marinette had called her at 1 am, Metropolis’s time. “Their brothers being friends also forced them to get along.”

“And that’s another thing!” Marinette had paused in her pacing and was now staring intently at a potted plant in the corner of her living room. Any more rage in her glare and the plant would have wilted and died. “He doesn’t tell me anything about him. I don’t need to know all his personal information, but if he’s going to be flying out to Paris on my behalf, I think I at least deserve to know his last name.”

“Hey, M,” another yawn echoed through the speaker, “I love you, truly, but maybe this could wait for holier day time hours?”

“I guess,” a vindictive part of Marinette felt like this was payback for all those inopportune calls when Marinette was busy with clients. “Sorry for interrupting your sleep.”

“It’s no big deal. But have you tried talking to him about it? If he’s ghosting your texts, try calling him. If he ignores you then too then maybe you should try finding another person to be your plus one.”

“The wedding is in two weeks, Alya!” Marinette partially regrets waiting so long to vent her frustration about the situation but she had tried to tough it out. “I would have much preferred if you were my plus one. You sure there’s no way to convince your parents to skip out on the family trip?”

“Sorry, M. Once the news about the proposal hit the internet, I tried everything. I even tried to use work, saying that I could cover the ceremony for the newspaper. My folks won’t budge though. My dad’s aunt is important to him and he wants us all at the funeral.”

“Right, right, I forgot about that.” Now she felt like an ass. “Send you dad my condolences when you see him again.”

“Will do. Good morning, Marinette. And don’t worry too much about the guy. Everything will turn up great. I can feel it.”

“Thanks, Alya. Good night, get some sleep.”

The line went dead and Marinette let out a rather weary exhale. She had no idea how this was going to work. She pulled up her contacts and searched for what she had Damian saved as.

‘Douche’ flashed on her screen and she hit the call button without remorse. She didn’t care that it was also currently 1 am in Gotham. He didn’t deserve that much consideration from her.

“What?” His voice was gravely and deep. And also really pissed if his clipped tone was anything to go by.

“Damian? Hi, this is Marinette, the girl you’re accompanying to the wedding in two weeks?” Her voice was pitched as if she was dealing with an irritating customer. Fake and polite.

“I know who you are. Why are you calling me at this unreasonable hour?” Fair, but Marinette was still aggravated at him so she wouldn’t concede.

“I’m calling because we need to talk.” She heard him scoff over the line and she felt her blood boil even hotter. She took several calming breaths to reign her temper in. “Don’t hang up.”

“Look,” She didn’t give him a chance to refuse and kept talking, getting everything off her chest. “This wedding is important to me and I promised the bride I would bring a date. After that you can delete my number and we never have to speak to each other ever. You don’t have to like me, you just need to pretend you do.”

“Whatever,” he sounded less annoyed from when he first answered the phone. “I will act as cordial as the situation requires, and nothing more. I also have my attire secured for the wedding and accommodations in Paris already prepared. I will see you at the wedding.”

“Than—” The sound of the call ending interrupted her and her frustration was back tenfold. With a cry in anguish she flung her phone onto her couch and stomped into her kitchen to channel her rage into baking.

Three loaves of bread and a dozen eclairs later, Marinette felt calm enough to finish the final touches on her outfit for the wedding.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the day of the Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century. The Rolling-Stone’s, as they were asking to be called, had kept the ceremony small. Relatively. Only two hundred invited guests, few of which were asked to bring a plus one. Marinette was over the moon at the array of outfits people were sporting. Some chose full-on cosplay while others, like herself, went for more subtle nods to the heroes. In honour of a previous Ladybug, Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons, Marinette based her outfit off of Wonder Woman’s uniform, Hippolyta’s daughter. A navy blue sequined halter top bodice that flows into a blood red A-line skirt. She paired it with a thick silver belt, silver gladiator heels rather than boots and broad silver arm cuffs. It was simple but effective. Besides, all attention should be on the bride and groom today.

A tap on her shoulder caught her attention and she turned only to come face first with red with black spots. Ladybug. Someone chose her as inspiration. How flattering. Looking up to see who was wearing the Ladybug-themed suit jacket, she stared at a pair of deep forest green eyes and a sneer to ruin that ridiculously handsome face. She recognized him from the photo Alya had sent some time ago. Damian.

“Hi, Damian,” at least one of them had to be civil and Marinette knew it was going to be her. But the idea that of all the heroes for him to choose from he chose her sent her into poorly stifled fits of giggling. Images of him going ‘Lucky Charm’ and ‘Miraculous Ladybug’ were almost too much to bear.

“I don’t know what’s so amusing about my choice of attire,” his face was starting to flush in similar shades to his jacket and that made Marinette laugh harder. “Ladybug is a well respected heroine and I thought it appropriate to pay homage while in her home city.”

“No. No no. There is nothing wrong with it. I like your costume, you look very cute.”

“Are you making fun of me?” His irritation was rather cathartic for the still giggling woman.

“No, I just didn’t think you would have put that much thought into your outfit for today. You always gave me the impression that you were ready to back out at any time.”

“I made a commitment and I had all intentions to see it through the end.”

“Could have fooled me.” And her snark was back. Now was not the time to pick a fight with the guy, he did fly all the way to Paris on her behalf after all.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” and Marinette wanted to know how he managed to sound so condescending with that statement. “How did you even get an invitation to this wedding anyways? You’re not a celebrity and you don’t look like family either.”

“Actually,” she said it with more force than what was probably necessary but his slightly accusatory tone was just so irritating. “I am the lead designer for the wedding party,” her chest was swimming with confidence at the chance to talk about her job. “I’ve worked with the bride and groom for years; M. D. Cheng, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Marinette will deny to her grave the rush of satisfaction at the absolute gobsmacked look on Damian’s face. A real fish out of water. Mouth open wide ready to catch flies. She wished she could capture this moment forever.

The moment was over too soon because Damian was regaining his composure and slipping into his default stoic expression. He cleared his throat and fixed a look at Marinette. It was rather intense.

“I believe I owe you an apology then.” He looked put-out at admitting something so menial. “I believed you were nothing more than a socialite chain climber.”

“A what?”

“When Jon reached out to me saying that a friend of one of his coworkers needed a date for an event, and when that event turned out to be the wedding of someone of such popularity, I figured you were only trying to increase your own social status by showing up with me on your arm.”

“And you said ‘yes’ anyways?” Marinette was confused but pieces of the mystery that is Damian were starting to fit in place. But something else stuck out as odd to her. “Also, how would you being my date increase my social status anyhow?”

He scoffs before answering. Bitch.

“What? It wouldn’t be the first time one of Jon’s set-ups ended that way. Besides, we’ve had an agreement that I can’t turn down an offer until meeting the person face to face.” Weird deal but some friendships are just like, Marinette supposes. “And being seen with me is enough to make anyone more popular.”

“...And you are?”

“Damian… Wayne…” He spoke as if he was talking to a small child. As if it should be obvious who he was like he was some celeb— Oh shit.

A name had flashed into her mind. On the finalised guest list, Marinette had only seen it once in passing, there was a name that belonged to someone Jagged was rather excited to see. He said the friend was an old college buddy. She remembered that much. She had completely forgotten that ‘a billionaire playboy’ was also attached to the name. Damian was the son of Bruce Wayne. Suddenly everything in the past few months made perfect sense. The cold shoulder, the ghosting, and his prickly disposition. He was overly guarded because he had justified reasons to be. Now she felt like an ass.

“Oh.” Real intelligent, Marinette.

“Oh? What, you didn’t know?” He sounded incredulous at the notion and he had every right to be. Marinette could only shake her head. Words were failing her now, her brain trying to rewrite the memories of every interaction the two ever had.

She was saved from further mortification by a call for everyone to find their seats. The wedding was about to begin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ceremony was beautiful. Penny’s dress was a silver grey, tied back with a golden belt. Instead of a long train, Marinette had attached a black cape that shimmered in the right lighting. Penny wore a tiara with two peaks to imitate the ‘bat-ears.’ A Batman-themed wedding dress was not something she ever saw herself making, but she was proud at how beautiful and confident Penny looked in it. Jagged was adorn in a royal blue suit with bold red lapels. He also had a matching red cape. His hair was styled in the familiar sleek way Superman wears it. The two made quite the pair.

The reception was a lively affair. Jagged had dedicated several songs to his new wife and they dazzled the crowd on the dance floor. Marinette didn’t pay much attention to the speeches beyond a quick glance at Damian when his own father stepped up to the podium. He had buried his head in his hands, looking like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. A courtesy pat on the back was all Marinette gave to him.

The two hadn’t really spoken much since the revelation that they had completely misjudged each other. The awkward tension was almost palpable. As Marinette was gathering the courage to speak to him, to try and officially clear the air, she was being dragged by one of the bridesmaids onto the dancefloor. It was time for the bride to throw the bouquet. All the unmarried women were being corralled into a tight cluster and Marinette got swept up in the tide.

Marinette wasn’t focusing on the actual game, trying her hardest not to get trampled, when she saw something move in her periphery. Years of being Ladybug had left her with finely honed instincts so she could not be blamed when she immediately jumped and caught the incoming object. The bouquet. She had caught the bouquet. Oh that was just her luck. Deafening squeals of delight brought her out of her own head and she was suddenly being embraced in Penny’s arms. She returned the hug, sharing in her delight, before breaking away to sit down.

“Nice catch.” His voice had surprised her, she hadn’t expected him to speak to her for the rest of the night.

“Uh, thank you. Just lucky, I guess.” Damian didn’t get the chance to respond because he was being dragged by his own father to join all the bachelors in catching the garter. Marinette was equally uninterested in this spectacle and had let her mind wander to other things.

A loud uproar caught her attention again and her eyes zeroed in on Damian holding the tossed garter. He made his way back over to her, dropping himself into his seat gracelessly. The two sat in silence, contemplating the implications of them both catching the garter and bouquet. The games were done purely for tradition’s sake, with total disregard of what it was supposed to symbolise. Still. One’s mind couldn’t help but wander. Minutes ticked passed and Marinette was beginning to wonder if someone was going to talk about the elephant in the room.

“So,” Damian’s voice was slightly strained, like he wasn’t used to being this flustered. It was kind of endearing. Wait what?

“So.”

“While marriage seems far out of reach for right now,” Oh god. He was going to talk about it. “How does dinner sound, next Friday?”

“Wait,” he wanted to spend more time with her? After their disastrous first impressions? “Really?”

“Really. I believe we started off on the wrong foot,” he let out a soft chuckle, almost self-deprecating. “Which isn’t really new for me, but it’s not everyday I meet someone who doesn’t recognise me at first glance. I think you’re someone who I would like to get to know better. If that is something you are also interested in.”

“Yeah,” Marinette knows all about wanting to get acquainted with someone who she’s had a bad first impression of. Just look at her past relationships. Wow, she really does have a type. Damning thoughts for later. “Friday works for me. Seven pm?”

“Perfect. I’ll text you the details then.”

“Wonderful, I can’t wait.”

The rest of the evening was spent in companionable silence with small bouts of conversation in between. They shared a couple dances on the floor and parted ways at the end of the night with budding anticipation for Friday.

As Marinette was preparing for bed that night in the comfort of her apartment, she sent a text to Alya that her friend would see later in the day.

You were right, I do have a type :(

#maribat #daminette #maridami #mgi trope tussle #mgi- server event #enemies to lovers #speedrun #i #like a dumbass challenged myself to use three prompts and i delivered #i hope #i hope yall enjoy #tumblr do me a solid #dont hide my posts #please #im begging #ml x dc #mlb x dc #tumblr please stop hiding my posts #no beta this is tussle

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strange-lace · 3 years

Text

Macaque

I was in the mood to make more content for Inverted AU, so here’s a short-ish fic of how episode 9 would go in this AU with Macaque, Wukong, and MK! Enjoy the shadowpeach!

Another demon defeated but still no sign of Sun Wukong. Macaque let out a sigh before rolling his shoulders to bring relief to tense muscles. Oh well, he'll just have to keep looking, not like he hasn't been at it for years now. At least this city he wandered to was quite nice with pleasant people, nothing too out there aside from demon attacks.

"Hey! Hey you! Shadow monkey man!" Macaque wouldn't deny that the sudden voice made him jump, considering he was on top of a pretty tall building. Apparently not tall enough to stop the young man from climbing up the side, somewhat out of breath yet that didn't deter from the determined look on his face. He simply brushed his messy hair out of his eyes and adjusted his teal backpack, which looked surprisingly heavy. Macaque couldn’t help but be somewhat curious as to what was in that thing.

Wait was that the Monkey King's staff in his hands?

Indeed it was, he'd recognize that weapon anywhere.

“Ah, you must be the Monkie Kid I’ve been hearing so much about, am I right?” That got him a look of suspicion before the young man also seemed to remember the staff in his hands, causing him to let out an amused huff at his own paranoia.

“Yeah, the staff kind of gives it away, don’t it? Name’s MK though. Now whomst is you? Most of the time, demons who ask me who I am are five seconds away from trying to kill me.” Macaque couldn’t help but chuckle at that, already finding that he was starting to like this little guy and his attitude. Perhaps if a person like MK was chosen to wield Wukong’s staff, then perhaps that meant his love had finally started turning things around for the better. Maybe it meant he finally stopped being someone he wasn’t all for the sake of keeping a memory alive.

“The name’s Macaque, though, the Six-Eared Macaque is actually my full name. But what brings you up here exactly bud? I doubt you’d climb up this high just for anybody.” MK’s face showed that he wanted to argue that point out of principle before remembering his purpose for coming up here.

“Simple, teach me.”

Wait what?

“What what?” MK scoffed at the question.

“I want you to teach me to fight, like how you fought that demon back there. I don’t intend on leaving you alone until you do and that is a threat!” Macaque didn’t doubt that he meant it that way and could very easily follow through on that. Sensing he wasn’t going to get out of this, he let out a sigh before giving MK a smile.

“You sure your mentor won’t have a problem with me teaching you?”

“Bold of you to assume Wukong’s disapproval will stop me.”

“Well alright then, I think we’re gonna get along just fine, bud.”

---

“I see what you’re trying to do, you’re afraid of holding back and giving your enemy the opportunity to win. But the first strike isn’t the most important one. Every strike counts. Other people may tell you that patience and focus don’t matter but a fool allows himself to rush without restraint. While you have power inside you, you have to use it carefully. Take the power to defend others, not just destroy those who stand in your way. You’re not a weapon kid, you wield the weapon above all else.”

---

It started with a fairly innocent question from MK after one of their training sessions, him slowly going through a water bottle given to him by Macaque while the monkey made them something to eat. He needed a distraction to stop himself from taking over the cooking, years of feeding others making him feel guilt the moment someone else took over.

“So Mac, how exactly do you know the Monkey King?” To his credit, Macaque only fumbled the slightest bit at that sudden question and was able to save the plate before it crashed to the floor.

“Oh um well… funny thing about that is, well… we used to be together actually. Like y’know… together-together,” he explained while he plated their food, wincing internally at how awkward he sounded. With his back towards MK, Macaque didn’t notice him go tense and grip the couch arm so tightly that the wood underneath cracked at the pressure.

“Used to be together, huh? What happened?” Macaque couldn’t help but shiver at the chill which traveled down his spine. MK’s voice was perfectly even and calm yet he was filled with an overwhelming fear that warned him to not turn around and remain perfectly still until the danger passed.

His ears twitched at the sound of sparks behind him, magic power permeating through the air.

“I… I messed up honestly. We had an argument about something, I don’t even remember what it was so long ago. But I had to leave to just get some space and air before I said something I’d regret, something I couldn’t take back. It was only meant to be a couple hours but some stuff out of my control happened and by the time I got back… Wukong was gone. I had been looking for him for centuries after that and then… well then you found me.”

“What, you hoped getting on my good side would mean that you’d win the Monkey King back?” His tone promised nothing good if Macaque kept digging himself a deeper hole.

“No! No, nothing like that at all. I don’t expect Pe-...Wukong to take me back or anything like that. I just… wanted the chance to apologize to him is all. If he wants anything to do with me afterwards, then I want that to be his choice. Nothing more, I swear.”

MK remained silent behind him before the sudden tension in the air dissipated as quickly as it appeared. Macaque let out a sigh of relief, slowly turning around to see MK still sitting on his couch, placing the staff back in his ear nonchalantly.

“Fair enough, sounds like you both were just idiots who don’t know how to communicate. If you actually intended on using me to get to the Monkey King, you’d have actually mentioned him during our training and yet you haven’t. And you can’t lie to save your life anyway. Just don’t be an idiot again alright? Monkey King… Wukong, he’s a mess and I don’t think he could handle thinking he’s been abandoned again.”

Macaque could feel his heart break at the idea that his Peaches, his love, thought that he had left permanently. He wanted nothing more than to run to him now and make things right. But that was Wukong’s decision to make, nobody else’s.

The two ate their food in silence after that.

---

Sun Wukong may have supposedly “lost his edge” but he was by no means dense or oblivious.

And while he was certainly happy about his successor’s vast improvement over the past couple weeks, a part of him sensed something was off. Like his successor was hiding something from him. And those moves he watched MK use to absolutely demolish the old mural, the Monkey King swore he had seen them before.

But it couldn’t possibly be. He hadn’t seen him in centuries. Not since he… left, like everyone else.

“I’m impressed, my boy! Tell me, how did you do that? Have you been seeing another mentor perhaps?” Wukong asked, his typically serene smile straining the slightest bit at the idea of his son student learning from someone who wasn’t him. The sensible part of his brain was gently poking at him, reminding him that it seemed silly to get upset about such a thing as, if anything, MK had appeared significantly calmer during their training compared to when they started. This could be a good thing, it told him.

Yet it was silenced by the majority of his brain which ran on fatherly protectiveness and had immediately been plagued by images of the worst case scenario. A demon had approached MK, promising him to make him stronger while also poisoning his student as a bid to turn him against the Monkey King before stealing his powers or, Heavens forbid, harming him.

No, Wukong refused to even allow a chance of that happening, logic and reasoning be damned.

“Hey, you’re the one always going on about ‘patience and focus’, I’m just finally putting what you said into practice,” MK answered, the picture of being casual which only set off further alarm bells within Wukong’s head. But before he could question him further, MK’s phone dinged to tell him of a new text message which he quickly read over, his eyes widening slightly at the message.

“Welp, looks like I gotta cut things short for now Wukong, something came up and I gotta head out. See ya later! Don’t forget to eat something tonight and sleep, I will know if you don’t.” And with that, MK was off through the hole he had created in the wall where the mural was before the Monkey King could get a word in edgewise.

Wukong waited long enough to allow MK to get a reasonable distance away before transforming into a bird, flying after his successor.

Something fishy was going on and the Monkey King was determined to find out what it was.

---

“Why exactly are we climbing up to this giant mountain again Mac?” MK wheezed, hating to admit it but this hike had genuinely winded him despite all his training. He had immediately gone to Macaque’s place the moment he got his text only to be told to follow the six-eared demon, leading them to where they were now.

“Well, consider this your ‘final exam’ bud! I want you to use everything I’ve taught you to fight against me, no holding back. Think you can do that?” MK couldn’t help the twitch at the corners of his mouth at the sight of Macaque’s genuine excitement as he explained, all six ears twitching while his tail was wagging like a dog. A demon who was centuries old and had fought countless powerful demons had no right looking that endearing, but here MK was looking with his own two eyes.

MK gave a chuckle before straightening himself out, wordlessly pulling the staff out his ear.

“You sure you’re comfortable getting your ass kicked by me, Mac?” With a smirk, Macaque summoned his own weapon in a flash of purple with the beginning of two shadow clones pooling at his feet. They shyly peeked from the ground from behind their master.

“Oho, a couple training sessions with me for a month and you think you have what it takes to defeat me, bud? Well then, bring it Monkie Kid!” MK didn’t hesitate to charge forward with Macaque mirroring him, weapons at the ready and adrenaline already running through their veins.

“Enough!”

A sudden force landed in between them with enough force to send them both flying backwards.

MK and Macaque recovered in time to see who decided to interrupt their duel.

Both of their hearts nearly stopped at the sight of the enraged Monkey King but for vastly different reasons.

“You have 5 seconds to explain yourself for trying to harm my-” Wukong’s rage quickly deflated as the dust cleared enough for him to truly see who it was he had thought was attacking MK. “Mango Flower?”

“Um… hello again, Peach Blossom. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Macaque joked, voice weak as he restrained himself from acting out of bounds even if he wanted nothing more than to gather the other into his arms. It had been so long, far too long.

He nearly broke at the sight of tears beginning to form in Wukong’s eyes.

His resolve finally shattered as the Monkey King ran towards him, arms outstretched, and before Macaque knew it his legs were moving on their own. The wind was knocked out of him at how tight Wukong squeezed him yet he returned the embrace back with gusto, ignoring the groaning of his ribs. He simply buried his face into the other’s fur, the smell of peaches still there even after all these years. Faintly, Macaque realized he was also crying once he felt a wetness on his cheeks.

Macaque let out a squeak in surprise as Wukong picked him up in the hug and spun him around, the sound of his laughter echoing throughout the mountain. The sight of such unabashed joy on his face was enough to make the six-eared demon to start laughing too, joy contagious in the best of ways.

MK would deny it unless under the threat of death but he couldn’t help but smile as he watched the two monkeys get lost in their own little world. It made the guilt which nagged at his chest at having to manipulate the two to make this meeting happen ease up, seeing how happy the two were.

“It’s been so long…” Wukong whispered as he placed Macaque back on his feet, gently cradling his face as if afraid that if he stopped touching the other, that he’d disappear again. “But, why are you here? I had thought that you hated me, isn’t that why you…” Macaque went stiff in shock before taking the Monkey King’s hands into his own.

“What? No! If anything, I thought you hated me for leaving instead of talking things out and that’s why you were gone when I came back. I always intended on coming back to you Peaches, I swear on it.” Wukong’s eyes went wide at that, extremely close to crying again a second time that day. “I had been looking for you for centuries now to apologize.”

And now the warm feeling was gone, leaving MK to bite down on his staff to stop himself from screaming at how much those two had failed at the simple of communication.

“We’ve both been absolutely foolish, haven’t we?” Wukong couldn’t help but laugh at it all, which only worsened as he noticed all six of Macaque’s ears turn red in embarrassment.

“Yeah, I guess we have been-” His words were cut off as the Monkey King grabbed his scarf, pulling him into a sudden kiss that made Macaque jolt in surprise before he practically melted into the other’s arms. A purr rumbled in his chest and neither noticed their tails wind around each other.

The sound of MK clearing his throat, loudly, was enough to get them to break apart in embarrassment.

“If you two are done being romantic idiots, I have to beat the shit out of Macaque to prove that I’m better than him. I mean ace my ‘final exam’.” The grin on his face showed that he was lying through his teeth.

“Don’t think I forgot about all your trash talking, young man. How about it Peach Blossom? You willing to go all out with me and the kid?”

Wukong’s face was the epitome of ‘Every part of my body wants to say yes but I shouldn’t.’ He was already terrible at saying no to MK and now with Macaque’s endearingly earnest face, he knew he was done for, at least with these two working together now.

“...Oh alright.”

The two mutual cheers at his agreement made Wukong feel slightly less guilty in letting his lessons go for a brief moment. But not completely.

But that was okay, Wukong was used to living with constant guilt.

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #inverted au #shadowpeach #mk #macaque #sun wukong #my writing #fanfiction

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its-kall-the-clown · 3 years

Note

14 Fluff for Red Son realizing he's nursing a crush on MK

As some context this is post redemption for the demon bull family. So Mei, MK, and Red hang out a lot together now. Red Son is also an idiot. XD

Also this isn’t my most polished work so sorry if it feels rushed.

prompt list

Stop that!! (Don't stop)

Rating: PG-13 for implied sexual interactions

"I think I'm sick"

Red Son admits to the ceiling of Mei's room. They were hanging out like they normally did on days MK was training with monkey king. She was playing some sort of retro video game and he was watching till he got bored and lay on her bed thinking.

"You got a tummy ache?" Mei teased, pausing her game and he huffs rolling his eyes, and sits up.

"Don't be ridiculous" he huffs out and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Okayyyy so what're the symptoms." Mei crawls from her spot on the floor and joins him in bed, sitting crisscrossed with her hand in her lap, and leaning forward eagerly.

"It's hard to explain… sometimes when MK is gone my chest hurts " he places a hand over his heart that was beating normally at the moment.

"And sometimes, when he's around, my hands get sweaty and it feels like I'm gonna throw up and…." He watches a wide unlearning Cheshire grin grow across his friend's face. He continues on, albeit, a bit more hesitantly.

"And….sometimes I can't talk right, and sometimes when he IS around my chest hurts also?" Mei was grinning so wide she was more teeth than she was girl.

"Why are you smiling…."

"OMFG!!?? You have a crush on Mk?!!!" She squeaks excitedly and rolls around in her back as she descends into what Red can only describe as absolute madness.

"What are you talking about??!" He sputters, Mei giggles a bit longer before finally pulling together and greeting him with a wide grin.

"Dude. Your like SO gay for him. 'My HeARt hUrTs WhEn hE’s not arOuNdddd~ " she mocks him in a fake tone and he growls hitting her with a pillow..

"Stop that!" He growls.

"SToP ThAt~" she mocks back and they devolve into a pillow fight on her bed. He girns when he hits her smug face squarely with a dragon stuffie.

Soon they lay panting on her bed and the dragon girl rolls onto her stomach poking him in the face.

"So. Crushing in MK huh?"

He grows beat red again and pulls a pillow into his face and groans.

"You should tell him."

Red son sits up with a smile.

"I should!"

"Yes!!"

"So I can tell him to stop making me sick!"

"Say what now?"

He turns to Mei with a feral smile. This 'crush' or whatever she called it could be fixed. If MK was the one giving it to him. He just needed MK to stop doing...whatever he was doing to make him feel like this.

"Hold on I think you are conf-"

"Thanks Mei!" He gets up and is off to confront the noodle boy as he hears Mei shout at him from her room.

"You're a fucking idiot!!!"

-----------

He storms forward like a typhoon. Red son is a force of nature that can not be stopped, nothing could yield him in his goal or hinder him in his path. Wild horses pulling chariots could not stop him, celestials in heaven would not dare stand in his way, and even his parents (by far the scariest force of all) could not persuade him to rethink what he was doing.

He pushes past the doors to Pigsy's noodles, shoves past patrons and ignores the warning shouts from the pigman.

he had one goal on mind

"Nyyyooodle boy!!!!!!" He bellows grabbing the attention to his problem. Those perfect expression color eyes meet him and the disease in his chest grows. He's in his training clothes, clearly on his way up to his apartment over the shop so he can shower.

Why did the idea of MK showering make his heartbeat erratically? Soft shoulders and cascading water off them…

She shakes his head back and forth now back on track.

"Stop. That." He growls out grinding his teeth together as steam leaves his ears. MK tilts his head slightly. The disease grows more in his chest and he hates it.

"Stop that!!!!" He points directly at MK feeling his hair sputter and spark as his temperature rises. He thinks his face is growing red.

"I'm….not doing anything?" MK gives him a sheepish smile, the kind that quirks up on one side and absolutely obliterates Red Son on the spot.

Like a crunchy fall leaf under the heel of a boot he's crushed.

Whatever motivation he had before it evaporates quicker than a drop of water in the Sahara desert.

"Y-your haven't heard the last of me!!" He makes a quick retreat, stumbling over his own feet and taking out one of Pigsy's tables in the process.

He exits the shop faster than he entered. He needed to regroup and strategize.

-----------

"SoooOOOOOo How'd it go?" Mei asked her eyes not leaving the screen, she's playing a different video game now, and she didn't even spare him a glance when he came back as if she predicted he would fail.

"Horrible!!! All it did was make this sickness worse." He throws his arms up and paces back and forth biting his lip. Mei doesn't pause her game this time, only continuing to mash buttons as he grumbles under his breath.

She lets out A long-suffering sigh and finally pauses her game.

"Dude. I know you're behind on the lingo and stuff but a 'crush' isn't a sickness. It means you like MK. As in you want to kiss him and stuff." she explains with a shrug unpausing her game and the sound of power-ups and pixelated men punching each other continues.

Red Son halts in his tracks

He pictures kissing MK. pressing his lips to the boy's soft adorable lips. He can practically feel the warmth it would produce. He pictures MK smiling into the kiss as they awkwardly bump noses. He pictures holding MK’s hand, squeezing it gently as they walk hand and hand. He imagines the feeling of MK’s hair between his fingers as he runs his hands through it.

He sucks in a gasp, his heart beating out of time.

Of fuck.

“I’m so screwed…..”

He feels Mei patting his shoulder, she paused her game again when he was fantasizing

“Yeah, you are. But at least now you can DO something about it.” she nudges his side and he blushes a bright red and he can hear her chuckling at him

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

“Can we talk?”

MK blinks back at him looking back and forth for a moment as if he was confused by his precence. Which to be fair he DID just enter through MK’s window while he was showering and was now waiting for him on his bed.

“Uhhhhh sure?” they rub the last remaining moisture from his hair with a towel before tossing it to the floor to be added to piles of laundry they had yet to do. Red Son didn't even curl his lip up at the slob-like behavior because HOLY SHIT MK IS SHIRTLESS!!!

Of course, MK didn't even seem to care that he was only wearing grey sweatpants in his presence. Red Son guilty looked MK’s chest up and down while they searched for a sleep shirt. Working out with Monkey King has been paying off because MK was sporting some muscle. He also had a few scars from battles that only added to how attractive he was, and of course, there were the two faint top surgery scars under his pecks.

“Is this about your weird episode in the shop today?” they asked pulling him from his guilt ogling and MK pulled a shirt over his body. Damn what a shame.

“Mei says I have something called a ‘crush’ and I should ‘tell them how I feel’ in order to make the pain in my chest go away,” he explained using quotation marks with his fingers to punctuate himself. MK’s eyes widen slightly and then it's schooled quickly. They join Red Son on the bed.

“O-oh? Have you told them?” MK squirms in place and keeps his gaze cast down. He looks uncomfortable, no. he looks upset? Why would MK be upset? Was it because he broke into his room again without permission?

No not that. Although he will have to apologize later

“I’m working on that part,” he explains scooting closer to MK and he grabs one of their hands gently. This felt stupid, and he thinks his sickness will kill him with how quickly his heart is beating. He was terrified and all his symptoms were amplified by ten.

He looks into MK’s espresso-colored eyes looking for something. He loved those eyes. They showed so much in them and he SWORE they could change the whole lighting of a room.

He opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water with his false starts. Eventually, he clears his throat and releases his confession.

“Umm well...MK. I h-have a crush on you.”

he shuts his eyes and waits for the rejection, waits to hear MK laugh with their head back and shove him away.

None of that comes.

He peaks an eye open to find MK’s face a bright scarlet red. Was that a good sign? Or was MK so angry at him that he was just building up anger inside of him like a volcano ready to blow.

“ I w-will leave now.” he pulls away ready to retreat with at least his dignity still in tack. He's pulled back violently and soft lips are smashed to his. He lets out a surprised whimper and absolutely melts into the feeling. His brain is electrified and static all at once.

He kisses back hungrily grabbing MK by the waist and pulls him closer. When they are running out of air only does MK pull away with a little breathless gasp.

“Stay the night?” They requested, placing a soft kiss to the juncture of his neck and he can’t find a single cell in his body that would possibly say no. He nods numbly and MK kisses him again a smile on his lips that he could taste.

----------

“MK GET UP! YOU ARE LATE AGAIN!!”

Pigsy burst down the door jolting the demon awake from his peaceful slumber, his arms that were previously wrapped around MK pull away quickly in the process. He thinks he could stick to the ceiling with his claws like a cat in a cartoon if he jolted just a little higher.

The covers are yanked off them both before Red Son even has time to protest. Thank gods they both put underwear back on when they finished satisfying each other. Red Son is completely and thoroughly exposed to MK’s boss, bitemarks, and hickes across his chest snitching on him.

Red Son and Pigsy meet eyes and he feels a sweat break out across his neck. Pigsy sighs and pinches his snout. He sucks in a deep breath and lets it out through his nose.

“I don't know what happened here... And I don't WANT to know. Tell MK he’s got ten minutes to get downstairs.” Pigsy turns on his heel and leaves slamming the door behind him. Red Son looks over to his now-boyfriend who’s mouth hangs open with drool dripping down his face.

MK slept through all of it.

He can’t help but chuckle and kiss their forehead gently.

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #MK #Red Son #spicynoodleshipping #Red Son may not be the sharpest cookie in the box #thats it. thats the sentance #wrtting prompts #prompt ask

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cher-writes · 3 years

Text

Silver Screen / Silver Pole | Robert Sheehan x Reader (18+)

Summary: A night of celebration in a LA strip club takes an interesting and unexpected turn when a contrarian actor winds up offending the wrong stripper. But night is long and the possibilities are endless, where will it take them?

Word Count: 7.3k

CW: Mention of sexual harassment, Consensual slapping, NSFW smut

A/N: This one is surprisingly not bloody at all and the smut isn't wild either so like most everyone can read it. Although it's emotionally very heavy. So, get ready to feel some shit. Hopefully you'll enjoy.

Special thanks to @crisis-of-joy for being there for me the whole month I took to complete this emotionally taxing fic and also for being my kind beta reader & editor.

Burning on it’s way down, the third glass of whiskey finally gave her some life she desperately needed. Deafening music throbbed throughout her veins, drowning the club in the background. She wanted to drown with it too but she couldn’t, she was there to work and rent for the month was already due. The fourth glass was on the verge of meeting with her bitter mouth when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t drink so much, you’ll trip on the stage,” Coco practically shouted in her ear. Coco was the only friend she had in that goddamn place and It wasn’t a very rare occurrence that Coco had to drag her blackout drunk body out of the club. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say she had a problem. Considering that she was already on her third strike of the month and the third drink of the night, Coco knew better than to let her get drunk this early.

“I can’t stay here and be sober at the same time,” she shouted back at Coco, “especially after...nevermind,” but decided against talking about it and instead focused her energy on finishing the fourth glass, which was gone just as quickly as the words stopped coming out of her mouth.

She could read the concern on Coco's face and sense the questions brewing behind it as Coco spoke up, “I want to know what the fuck is up with you but I have to go now, Caleb came home from school hours ago, it’s pretty late and I have to cook him dinner.”

“What happened to Larry? Can’t he take care of the kid? He’s fucking jobless anyway.”

“He got in a bad fight again. I can barely afford Caleb’s school fees and now the medical bills.”

“If only you had divorced him, you wouldn’t need to worry about it.”

“And if only you had been less violent towards customers, you wouldn’t be on the verge of getting fired. But, here we are.”

She furrowed her brows at this sudden sharp stab of truth by Coco and dealt with it the only way she knew how to, by ordering another drink. Coco crossed her arms letting out a deep sigh and said, “Look, I'm only trying to help you, (y/n). Sam wanted me to go up. You see that group seating in the fifth VIP booth? Up there. They are celebs and celebrating something so, ya know, good money. I said no cause, as I said I gotta go home, but I convinced him to let you go up there. It was hard given your recent less-than-favorable behavior, but I managed to.” Coco snatched the already empty glass from her hand and continued, “So stop drinking, go up there and get that money. And for the love of God, behave yourself or this might be your last night here.”

Giving her hand a quick but tight squeeze, Coco got up then soon after disappeared into the crowd. She thought to herself about how a last night there wouldn’t be so bad if she could afford it, and wanted another drink immediately to kill that thought, but Coco's words haunted her ears. She looked over her shoulder to see three men sitting in the booth, laughing.

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

Her head was in a violent swirl, vision blurry. She was way too drunk to be spinning around the pole, but she had an audience to entertain and had no one but herself to blame.

When you walked around your house wearin' my sky blue Lacoste, the song was thudding against her skull. Pulling herself together, she counted every second, waiting for the song to end. She could feel the eyes on her, sticking to every bit of her, just as invasive as it was the very first day yet, she couldn’t care less. She had to live through it if she wanted the money and she needed the money if she wanted to live. The room was dancing circles around her as the tips came flying in, she kept counting the seconds, sliding down the pole, and your knee socks.

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

She was swaying dangerously on her way down from the stage. If the song didn’t end when it did, she would have thrown up without a shadow of a doubt. At that point, she didn’t even know how or what she danced, only the awful sickness in her stomach let her know that it was more than she could take.

She needed to chat up the men, try and convince them to buy a champagne room before the next song came on, which she feared was way too soon for her liking. Nevertheless she tried to steady herself but the big glass platforms messed with her earnest efforts, nausea kicking her in the stomach once again, letting her know of her limits.

She didn’t ever really look at the men who sat in front of her, leering at her, they all looked the same, smelt the same and talked the same. So she followed the same old routine, bending down just enough to give them a view up her tits. Pressing her arms closer, she slurred, “What are we celebrating, gentlemen?”

She absolutely hated how she sounded pandering to men, two pitches higher. “My friend over here landed a role in a Spielberg film!” the middle one spoke up and pointed to the one sitting on the right side. The one in question grinned in response and repulsion licked the back of her neck at the sight of that. Yet she needed to please him, “That’s amazing! I’m sure I’ll be seeing your face on the billboards everyday now while driving,” she said and fantasized about having enough money to burn down all the billboards in LA and maybe LA with it too.

“Hell yeah you will!” the one in the middle spoke up and broke her reverie so she pretended he was supporting her fantasy instead. “Oh please! Speak for yourself!” the one on the right perked up in his seat and continued, “He’s literally working with Fincher AND he got engaged!”. The one in the middle gave a revolting smirk at the very humble revelation of his accomplishment and it was enough to turn her stomach or maybe it was the alcohol, she couldn’t really decipher.

“Oh really?” she looked at the man, tilted her head and said, “And you came to a stripclub to celebrate your engagement?”, her face deadpan. Notes of contempt stuck out like thorns from her voice, making her sound way more intense than she intended to.

He tensed up visibly at her sudden razor-edged tone and, even though she didn't want to, she had to ease the situation. I can’t piss off these bastards again, she kept repeating to herself like a mantra. “Boys will be boys!” she said, not being able to think of something better that wasn’t inherently insulting, and laughed the most disgusting laugh of her life. If she could she would pour gasoline down her throat just for uttering those words.

She couldn’t bear to linger at that conversation point anymore so she turned her attention to the man sitting on the far left. He looked distant and foreign, staring but not really looking at her. There was a peculiar absence behind his distinct green eyes, which she would even call beautiful under different circumstances. And that, something about that absence, made her want to zero in on him.

“And what about you? Did you win an Oscar or something?” mockery ringed clear in her voice, which brought his attention back to the presence. Startled slightly, he straightened his posture while saying, “No, not really... not yet at least,” he smiled sheepishly and continued, “I’m just here with them”.

“Come to think about it, I’ve never really seen you anywhere,” she said without thinking too much. In fact, she didn’t really pay enough attention to how he looked to recognize him even if she did.

Something intense flashed his eyes for a brief second. She couldn’t quite put her fingers on what it was but she could feel the energy shift very quickly between them.

“Oh I’ve been in things but I’d be surprised if you did see any of them,” his voice now stripped of the delicacy it previously held. She could feel the air between them getting unusually heavy, his words penetrating through her skin a bit too effortlessly, a bit too swiftly that it was unsettling.

“And why exactly would you be surprised?”

“You know...cause people like you don’t usually watch the kind of films I do.”

“What do you mean by ‘people like me?’”

“You know...people of your...stature,” he trailed off. Blood rushed the back of her neck as soon as the words hit her ears. She could feel her vision burning, a hot wave washed the crown of her skull, something unruly building at the base of her being. Clenching her jaw so as not to let it take over her, she said, “Stature huh? Fancy! I reckon from your accent that, wherever the hell you’re from, people get a kick out of looking down on others with such wispy language.”

She could sense the same unruly substance dancing behind his chest, but he was far better at keeping it on a leash.

“I wasn’t looking down upon you. What I was merely getting at is that some people aren’t cut for apprehending particular types of films,” he sounded snarky but calm, the type of calm that’s tainted with scorn, which only sent ripples of rage down her ribs.

“Oh so you think just because I’m a stripper by profession that I wouldn’t understand your low-budget dumb indie movies?” she was getting visibly worked up now. Traces of her seductive posture vanished long ago but there was a new hostile energy flowing through her stance.

“I didn’t say that -”

“No, of course you didn’t say that, you only meant that. You meant what you think and every one of you think that we aren’t people with brains and emotions. No, no, we’re just sacks of meat to ogle at in exchange of money, and then grope when you can’t keep it in your pants.”

“I think you're trying to put words in my mouth, this is -”

“God! you think you’re fucking better than me, don’t you? You contrarian little shit!” she could feel it in her bones. She knew what was coming. There were people behind, or maybe beside, her, trying to talk to her, probably. She could hear no one, not even the previously unbearable blaring music. She had tunnel vision and it was fixed on him. The air she breathed chafed her nose. Her nerves thumped as her heart leapt at irregular rapid intervals.

“Excuse me! but i neve -” he said as his body went alert. Posture anticipating something violent, flight or fight.

“You think you're better than me because I'm a stripper and you got enough money to buy me?” her voice was icy as she spoke, “You LA people are all the fucking same. You get a little money in your pockets and you think you own the world and anyone who isn’t jerking off to your pretentious bullshit isn’t worthy enough to deserve basic fucking decency. Huh is that it?” she quickly jumped on top of him, straddling him.

He was frozen under her as she leaned in and murmured, “Well then allow me to show you”, she pulled away, her left hand clutching his shoulder as right fist rose the air, “HOW FUCKING BETTER THAN ME YOU ARE!” then her fist crashed on the side of his mouth with all the force she could muster, releasing a knot built in her chest since she checked in with the manager in the evening. Hot, sweltering adrenaline was coursing through her veins.

The impact resulted in him burying his face in his right shoulder so she grabbed a fistful of his hair and forced him to face her. His lips were starting to swell up so she decided to help it. His eyes went blank as her fist met his face once more.

Involuntarily, her hand was raising in the air again when she felt a strong pull from behind. The security guard, twice her size, yanked her away from him. People gathered around them staring at her, the music stopped to her relief. The guard twisted her arms behind her back, enough to leave bruises that’ll sting for days to come. She couldn't move, her sight went hazy yet she felt this strange cool serenity soothe her tensed muscles. His friends were crowding him, probably consoling him. She could neither hear them nor make out their faces from her almost closed eyelids. She was pretty sure she was falling asleep in the guard’s painful hold until she heard a certain voice and the hair at the back of her neck stood up.

“What the fuck! She’s at it AGAIN? Sir, I'm so sorry -” Sam, the manager’s voice pierced her ears as he rushed into the booth. As he was talking to them, commotion rose in the background. She could feel blind rage beating with every thump of her heart. If it wasn’t for the guard holding her in place, she would have skinned him alive by now. She was struggling to free herself when Sam turned to her and said, “You! That’s it!” pointing his left index at her. “I’ve had just about enough of your drunkass assaulting fine gentlemen. You’re fired. Get out right now! And be grateful we’re not reporting you to the police.”

Suddenly everything went quiet in her head. She smiled, nothing behind her gaze. Grinning ear to ear like a maniac, she said, “I’m fired? Aww what’s gonna happen to you now Sam?”. She cooed, ''Whose tits and ass are you gonna grab from now on? Stella? I wonder if she’ll compare to me though.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Sam almost hissed at her.

“Ohhh right! Of course, you don’t know what I’m talking about,” she said while still tussling with whatever little strength she had left to loosen herself from the guard’s excruciating grip. “You don’t know anything about how you sexually harassed me day after day, how your disgusting, slimy little hands grabbed my body against my will at every chance that you got. You knew how much I need the money from this job and you used that against me to keep me silent, threatening to fire me every time I made even a sound. But guess what fucker? I’m fired now! And I’m gonna tell everyone about HOW YOU TRIED TO -”

“Take her to the staff room!” Sam cut her off, “NOW!” And, as soon as the words left Sam's mouth, the guard put his palm over her mouth and started dragging her back. The hand over her mouth muffled her screams and she glanced at the man, now with swollen lips, looking at her with eyes filled with, what looked like, concern.

As she was getting dragged, she finally managed to sink her teeth into the guard’s palm resulting in him withdrawing his hand just enough to give her a small window of time to scream at Sam: “YOU MOTHERFUCKER I’LL BE BACK AND I’LL PEEL THE SKIN OFF OF YOUR SCALP FUCKING SON OF A BITCH I’LL -” Before she could finish, her voice got cut off again and she faded into the dimly lit passageway at the back of the floor.

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

The cherry of her fifth cigarette shone brightly in the shivering cold as the smoke drifted up in the air and sluggishly faded away. Mouth agape, her eyes meticulously followed the faint trails left after their disappearance. She wondered where they went, where she’ll go. If it wasn’t this late, and the water wasn’t so cold, maybe she could have gone for a swim in the ocean. If the water wasn’t so cold maybe she would have let it swallow her even. She was calculating the probable temperature of the hypothetical water she’d marry someday when the sound of slow approaching footsteps entered her field of perception. She would have preferred to ignore it but the, somehow already familiar, voice spoke up, “Hey erm...” and left her no choice but to look. And there he was, the foreign man with the swollen lip, looking culpable. There were distinct imprints of guilt in his voice as he continued, “I saw you across the parking lot…um I was actually just leaving with my friends,” he pointed at a black Mercedes parked at the far end of the lot. “They’re waiting in the car anyway so I decided -”

“So you decided now that she’s fired from being a stripper, she's probably a hooker! Lemme go ask the price she’s selling at,” her gestures and voice was comical, “you know, dude if you’ve got a kink of getting beaten up non-consensually then you’re really good at getting it cause I might just be up for round two.”

He stared at her for a good few seconds with a perplexed face, as if trying to process her stream of logic. When he started speaking, he sounded genuinely hurt, “No! Jesus Christ I came to apologize. Can you just not be defensive for one second? I’m not a monster ya know!”

His sincerity caught her off guard. She had about five thousand ways of dealing with assholes prepared and ready to go but an actually decent person? Now that was rocky territory for her.

“Well, uh, that’s a first. Go ahead I guess?” she shrugged her shoulders.

“I apologize for saying what I said back in the club. I shouldn’t have insinuated that you aren’t intelligent enough to understand my films just because of your choice of profession. It was really shitty of me to say that, and nothing can justify it either. And I feel like I caused you to be fired, that’s also weighing heavily on my soul and I don't know how to make it up to you. Just, I hope that you can forgive me and, again, I apologize, earnestly. Please tell me how I can make it up to you,” he said and looked at her with a rueful expression.

She was at a loss of words. It had been years since anyone apologized to her, let alone that sincerely. After a considerable amount of silence, she gathered her fragmented thoughts and spoke up, “Whoa, whoa man, chill. You didn’t murder my family or anything so calm down,” she held up her open palms, the cigarette almost at it’s end. “Apology accepted, okay? And don’t feel bad, I would have been fired sooner or later given my questionable behavior ever since I joined, so it’s not on your conscience. And I’m sorry too,” her index and middle finger holding the cigarette gestured at his lips, “for, um, punching you so let’s call it an even.”

“Okay,” he nodded, “yeah okay,” sounding clearly more relaxed than before.

“You know it’s a miracle how long it took for me to get fired,” she mused, “oh no it wasn’t a miracle it was sexual harassment, ah I see now. Wonder what Sam saw in me though that was worth not firing me for this long even though I pulled so much shit,” she took a long drag of her weary cigarette. “Maybe I've got a talent for getting harassed or something...who knows?”

His face tensed up again as he said, “That’s...not right,” eyes pooling with the same worried look as before.

“I was joking, chill. Humor is an excellent way to deal with most everything really, especially trauma.”

“I am sorry for what you had to go through, it’s gut-wrenching. Can’t you lodge a complaint to the police?”

“Going to the pigs? As a sex worker? Who just got fired for being drunk and punching a man in front of many eye witnesses? Now that was humor, you’re quite good at it actually.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Besides, that’s like one of the first things you gotta learn to put up with if you’re working in this business. As unfair and grim as it is, men, no actually, people don’t see sex workers as human beings and I’m just too obstinate to accept that simple fact, or maybe too much of a pussy, depending on where one’s priorities lie.”

“I…don’t know what to say.”

“There is nothing to say.”

It was just setting in for her how beautiful he actually was. His crestfallen face was graced by two stunning green eyes, lush unruly curls sticking to his forehead, sharp jawline kissed with a scruffy goatee and the swollen lip throwing off the symmetry just right to make him look captivating, to say the least. In the chilly December ambience his face was a soothing sight to her eyes, his sweet voice kind to her drudging ears, his presence warm to her existence. And she wanted to hold onto the warmth, just for a bit longer.

“You said you wanted to make it up to me, right?” she said as the cigarette fell on the ground then died out under the crushing embrace of her cruel heels.

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

“Well I'm Ro -” he said leaning against the passenger seat window, sitting half facing her.

“If you’re trying to say your name then don’t,” she cut him off quickly without averting her gaze from the road.

“Why?” he asked, staring at her intently yet without any emotion in particular.

“‘Cause it doesn’t matter. It’s better if we don’t know each other’s name. Names individualize people and that’s not necessary for tonight,” she answered nonchalantly as the neon lights of a passing by road sign illuminated her face and then faded into the past just as nonchalantly.

“Okay.”

She could feel his eyes on her, but it didn’t bother her, it wasn’t tainted. There was this unusual tranquility in the atmosphere of the car, this obscure but consistent serene rhythm. She felt a bizarre comfort in his presence and she could drive like this forever, on a never-ending road spiraling towards heaven or winding down pandemonium or just dissolving into the ether, with him sitting lazily on the side.

“Do you ever feel like that?” he spoke up absentmindedly, breaking into her almost fever dream.

“Huh?”

“The song, I feel like that often.”

She didn’t realize the radio was on, playing at quite a significant volume. She wondered if he had turned it on at some point and how long she was driving for without being present mentally.

This place will be the end of me. Take me out, LA. Take me out of LA, the voice from the radio filled the car to the brim.

“I don’t feel like that, I know that. I know I'll die here, kinda intrinsically...do you hate this place?”

“No, not hate. I just feel like I don't fit in here. It’s the way of life, it’s quite significantly different to what I was used to. The people and the city, it all feels hollow sometimes and every now and then i catch myself yearning for what I left behind me.”

“I see. Beautiful people and their beautiful problems.”

Silence fell in the car again. Except for the voice through the radio, Well this place is never what it seems.

“You don’t have to make small talk, you know. I'm fine with silence,” she said, finally looking at him for a brief second.

“Oh I know,” he was looking right into her eyes, unruffled. “I wasn’t making small talk, I just wanted to talk to you. That’s all.”

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

The bleak fluorescent tube above buzzed in solidarity as the fatigued clock on the chipped convenience store wall dragged its hands and finally managed to tick at 2 am. The attendant was leaning on the counter, trying not to fall asleep when her voice echoed in the store: “$20 on pump 2.”

“I’ll pay”, he cut in, reaching for his wallet. “Okayyy...” she replied, narrowing her eyes at his benevolence and looked around the store which was significantly emptier that other nights. She closed her eyes for a second and the memories flashed behind her lids. She used to come here frequently, around this time, with someone when everything in her world was right, just right enough for her to not to seek out falling stars every night and wish for death over and over again. When she opened her eyes a shiny pack of Parliaments caught her gaze and she quickly gestured behind the counter, “Since you’re paying, can I get a pack of those also?”

“Sure”

“I remember surviving on those alone while writing my thesis papers,” she said wistfully, “good times.”

“You went to college?”

“University actually, but yeah.”

“Good lord.”

“But I had to drop out so I couldn’t complete my Master’s in Biochemistry.”

“Why?”

“Life.”

“I flunked out my first year of college so you did way more than I did in that regard.”

“Welp, look where that got me.”

“Don’t say that!”

“What?” she scoffed.

“Anything else?” the attendant interjected, visibly tired and clearly annoyed at their conversation.

She swiftly grabbed a lighter, “Can I get this too?”

“Yeah, absolutely.”

“That’ll be all,” she tossed the lighter towards the attendant and continued, “You’re clearly doing way better than me in life.”

“Are you being sarcastic?” he replied, raising an eyebrow.

“No. I meant that seriously. I’m the one who fucked up my life and that’s a fact. Say, how did you know what you wanted to do?”

“That’ll be $30”, the attendant interjected again.

“I don’t know. I started acting as a kid and it just seemed right. It’s all I've known really and I can't see myself as anything else,” he said as he passed the money to the attendant.

“I envy that.”

“I do sometimes ponder what I would have been if not an actor.”

“Wondering too much isn’t good,” she grabbed the goods and shoved them in her coat pocket, “It might make someone into me.”

She stopped right before the glass door, pulled the lighter out and flicked it on, “I’ll use it later,” she leaned in close to him with a frivolous smirk and whispered, “to burn this city down.”

He chuckled at her sudden gaiety, “I’d gladly assist.”

Pushing the door open, she continued as he followed behind her, “Did you see the way that dude rolled his eyes to you? He definitely thought you were with a blabbering hooker and to be honest, my make up probably didn’t help either. Oh well it's not like -” her voice slowly evaporated into the gloomy gas-station lights.

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

“So beautiful,” he said with awe looking over the vast and apparently endless ocean which the full, eternal moon bathed with its silver glory.

She clutched at her coat sleeves as the chilly wind sent shivers down her body and said, “I know right? I’ve always found the sea to be peaceful during this time of the night.”

“It’s lovely, I’ve never been to this beach before.”

“It’s my favorite spot actually, I used to come here pretty often,” melancholia dripping from her voice. She paused for a little while as if going over a mental checklist and said, “let’s go sit down there,” and pointed towards a vague place in the distance.

They walked down the beach for a bit side by side, knuckles occasionally brushing against each other’s, making them want to hold hands, feel the warmth of another being. But the hesitance of the yet to be known, the uncertainty of a nameless stranger clouded their minds and prevented them from reaching out.

She stopped, sat down and gestured to him to do the same by tapping the cold sand beside her. He sat a bit too far for her liking so she huddled up closer to him saying, “You blaze right?”

“Sure.”

“Cool,” she said, taking out a small bag from an inside pocket of her coat, “keep an eye out for me while I roll it.”

They sat in silence as she rolled a joint meticulously. The waves kept crashing on the shore as if fulfilling some ancient duty. Wind rustled through the empty beach. Sand glimmered sporadically under the warm light of the moon, creating a transcendental atmosphere.

He sighed and thought out loud, interrupting the intoxicating stillness of the night, “Where do we go from here?”

“Other than plotting the murder of Sam, I don’t know about me,” she replied without looking up from the task at hand, “Don’t really wanna think about it tonight. That’s why I took you along with me. I wanted someone to keep me distracted from my thoughts and I had no one to go to...then you came to apologize, like my knight in shining armor.”

He smiled wryly and said, “I see.”

“What about you? What are you gonna do about your not fitting in or what was it?”

“I don’t know either. I just miss my people. I’m not meant for here, I think.”

“So can’t you go back there? To your home I assume?”

“I can...”

“Then go. Why the fuck would you stick around if you had the option to go back?”

“Maybe.”

“Huh! I wish I had a home to go back to too.”

She could see him from the corner of her eyes, clenching his knees tight with his fingers at her words, bringing them closer to his chest. She looked up to see him staring at her with his big, beautiful, hurt-puppy eyes.

“Did that make you sad or something?” she asked, almost amused.

“Yeah...yeah it did.”

His apparent empathy for a literal stranger who also punched him not so long ago struck her as odd and oddly enticing. He looked unreal to her in the strange moonlight, as if a remote but vivid memory. She felt as though if she reached out and touched him, he’d turn to dust and drift off with the wind. Those intense eyes and his fey beauty were getting too much for her to bear so she averted her gaze towards the ocean and said, “There’s no use for your or anyone’s sadness. You see, sadness changes nothing. Unless you can start a capital R revolution tomorrow, everything will be the same. It’ll be the same day with slight variations over and over again, things will repeat and go on and on and on until one day humanity just goes poof somehow and then the universe will go on as if we never even happened. There’s no significance of our lives, there’s no point in feeling sad about anything in this set up. One must always imagine Sisyphus happy.”

“That’s quite pessimistic, isn’t it?”

“Kinda absurdist actually, but It’s hard not to be pessimistic or defensive, when you have to lead a life like mine.”

“I understand.”

“Oh, I’m sure you do, “Glamour Boy,’” she said, licking the rolling paper.

He put his hand over his chest and feigned being hurt which made her laugh; a clear, hearty laughter. The beach echoed with a faint sound of the laughter of two stray souls as he joined in.

The joint hanged from her lips, sensual and reckless like an erotic magazine model, burning bright as she took a long drawn-out drag.

“Say, do you think the water is cold?” she said, passing the joint to him.

He took in a drag, inhaling some of her used up smoke with it too, tasting her cheap but obscenely sweet fruity lip gloss at the filter tip, “Yeah...very much so”.

She huddled up even closer to feel the heat of his body as he passed the joint back to her. Taking in another drag, she leisurely put her head on his shoulder.

The sedating smoke sank into their lungs as the sand anchored them from floating off in the elating static of the enveloping darkness.

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

“Is this it?” she said, pulling up to a posh apartment complex, something she wouldn’t be able to afford even after paying off her debts.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he replied absently and unbuckled his seatbelt.

She was looking ahead at the road, expecting him to get out of the car, but he sat in silence. She looked at him and saw him laid back on the seat as if being consumed by it, tracing the edge of the left air vent softly with his fingers. He sighed and said, still looking at his busy fingers: “I feel strange and fucking awful.”

“It happens sometimes after coming down a high.”

“It’ll be a pain in the arse going to bed feeling like this.”

“I know,” her eyes travelled down the flow of his posture, giving birth to an urge of some aboriginal origin in her loins, “but you don’t have to.”

He turned his head towards her slowly, lethargy clear in his slow breathing pattern, “What do you mean?”

“Push your seat back.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

He furrowed his brows, alarmed by her sudden gratuitous command. He looked at her; motionless as if not even breathing awaiting his compliance and her eyes glinted with expectancy. He pushed his seat back, as far as it could go then parted his lips to say something but before the words could get out, she virtually jumped on top then sat astride him.

A deathly stillness engrossed the car as her previous bellicose energy returned to the atmosphere, only this time rather ardent in nature. His heart, instantaneously racing, almost audible to her.

“You know,” she said taking off her top, “dopamine is a hormone and neurotransmitter that’s an important part of your brain’s reward system, and it can elevate your mood and make you feel really good.”

Eyes wide with surprise, he struggled to keep his gaze fixed on her face as she unbuttoned his shirt. Her fingertips snaked up and down his smooth chest as if caressing a sumptuous painting one is not allowed to touch. She felt his taut muscle tighten at her touch, veins kindled with a hot rush pulsing under. Burying her face in the hollow of his neck, she felt the heat of his body as she pressed her chest against his. His breathing picked up it’s pace even more at the contact with her flushed skin.

“Do you ever get lonely?” she spoke up letting her lips skim over his bare shoulder.

“Terribly,” his voice breathy as he placed his hands on her hips hesitantly, not possessively, but affectionately.

“I do too.”

“What do we do about it?”

“Maybe we don’t do anything.”

“Maybe.” he said resting his right cheek against her head, “or maybe we keep each other company.”

“But for how long?”

“However long we need to.”

A mirthless laugh rippled from her lips then through his skin. She pulled back to look him in the eyes, curious green mixed with an unfamiliar kind of sorrow, a sorrow too costly for her. “Lust and attraction shut off the prefrontal cortex of the brain, which includes rational behavior,” she said, knocking softly on his temple.

“Makes sense.”

Cupping his face, she stroked his swollen lips with her rough thumbs, making him wince in response. The purple bruise steadily forming on the side of his mouth marred his flawless complexion yet his allure only enhanced. Her thumb rubbed on the bruise with reckless abandon, his flinches testifying to that. Withdrawing her hands from his face, she left a light peck on the bruise and said, “Slap me.”

“What?”

“Slap me, come on, I'm giving you a chance to get back at me for earlier.”

“No!”

“Prude!”

“Hey! I just don’t want to hurt you, especially not as revenge or what not,” he sounded genuinely offended.

She leaned in, “But I want to get hurt, silly,” her lips ghosting over his as she whispered, “Endorphins are our body’s natural pain reducer and it so happens to increase when we engage in reward-producing activities, such as eating, working out, or having sex.” She pulled away and continued, “So hit me. Hard.” His adam’s apple bobbed up then down as he searched at her face, as if trying to find some sort of sign. His fingers dug in her hips, indicating the upcoming crude impact. Her palms laid flat against his chest as his left hand rose then crashed against her face. Her fingers curled in response as she gasped weakly, eyes shut closed but the tensity clear in the lines on her eyelids and forehead.

“Ah... that was good,” she said as if talking to herself, caressing her cheek. When she opened her eyes, she found him staring with uncertain eyes, the doubt readable in the way he bit his lips.

“Just like that, once more,” her firm voice ringed in the vehicle. His hand cruelly collided once again with her face, leaving her face warm and red.

“Good boy,” she cooed as the sharp sting eddied on her cheek and then through her whole body, easing her off some unknown yet intrinsic discomfort. Her chest pounded in sync to his as she spoke up, “Do it for me once again, won’t you?”

Pressing his teeth even deeper into his lips, he struck her once again, with as much strength as he had. A white light flashed before her eyes, her ears ringed as she sat in silence for a bit. When her vision became clear, she held his face between her palms. Leaning closer, she rested her temple against his and murmured, “Such a good boy.”

Sweat dripped down as her nose grazed up the side of his neck, she could feel him growing hard through his pants. She buried her face in his curls and breathed in. He smelt sugary, sweet to the extent of almost making her nauseous. She whispered against his ear, “You’ve got a boner...it turned you on this much to hurt me?”

“It’s, um, n-not really that part it’s the -” he stammered in embarrassment.

“Ugh men,” she cut him off and rolled her eyes playfully. “But since we’ve got a situation at hand, and you’ve been so good to me, I think you deserve some relief for yourself,” she said, tugging at his waistband. To which he responded eagerly, elevating his hips just enough so she could slip his pants off as much as possible. His head sank back into the headrest as her hands wrapped around his cock. Her hand gilded up and down his length as her other hand ran through his hair, pulling lightly. Resting his forehead on her shoulder, he quivered and moaned softly as she lovingly yet mercilessly worked on him. His breath hitched sharply as she stroked the tip of his cock with her thumb, making him groan and twitch under her touch. She was about to pick up the pace when he grabbed her wrist abruptly. “Wait!” he rasped, “I wanna...feel you.”

He panted, trying to catch his breath and said, “Let’s take this inside, there might be people around.”

“Why? Are you afraid of getting photographed with a hooker by the paparazzi, Mr. Actor?"

“No”, he answered, the same hurt as earlier could be heard in his voice, the type of hurt when one is misunderstood by someone they love, “I just - I just want it to be nice.”

“Let’s not make it too nice lest you fall in love with me,” she said sternly. “Besides, you should be more concerned about getting STDs. There should be some condoms in the glove box and also tissues for later.”

He brought his face closer to hers, looked at her lips and said, “You’ve got such a mean mouth, you know that?”

“And you like it?”

“Perhaps”, he replied then kissed her, deeply. Holding her face in his head, he bit her lips which made her moan in his mouth. After running out of breath she pulled away, still tasting his saliva on her tongue as he reached behind her and rifled through the glove compartment. Having found what he wanted, he turned on the radio then returned his focus to her; she was hiking up her dress and awkwardly slipping off her panties in the short space.

Heavy bass filled the car, I wanna be your vacuum cleaner breathing in your dust, as the sky started to light up with shades of azure and tangerine. Her tongue blended with his as she took his cock in her. Their bodies pressed and flushed against each other as a steady rhythm flowed through them. Her nails scratched his nape, as he kissed her neck, nibbling at her collarbone. Her head shot back as he thrust up into her, frantic and keen. His groans muffled in her chest, her moans melting into his hair as their hips clashed against one another.

Maybe I just wanna be yours.

I wanna be yours.

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

The sparkling rays of the breaking dawn illuminated his face as he cleaned himself off and got dressed. She marveled from the driver’s seat at the magnificence of the sight of him in afterglow. There was something in him, something innate, that made him stand out from anyone she ever came across. He was made for the screen, he was made to shine, and she wondered whether or not he’ll remember her afterwards. It was for the better if he didn’t, she thought to herself, as this was probably one of the lowest points in his life, while that night was most definitely one of the highlights of hers. The sheer dichotomy was glaring at her soul when he spoke up, bringing her attention back to the present, “I was wondering if you’d like to -”

“Look if you want my name or number, then that’s just not gonna happen,” she said with a sigh, “It’s the oxytocin flooding your brain. Increased levels of oxytocin facilitate attachment and bonding and shit so, like, don’t be fooled.”

“But it’s not that, I feel a connection between us...something I haven’t felt with anyone here before.”

He averted his eyes from her and looked out the window. His hand lingered on the door handle for a second before he stepped out of the car. Turning his back towards the car, he walked into the apartment complex, without saying anything further. Her foot pressed on the accelerator, as the car drove past the buildings. A Parliament washed out the leftover taste of him in her mouth as she rolled down the window to let the nauseously sweet scent dissipate into the cold morning air.

“It is that. Believe me, I know. There is nothing between us. Whatever connection you feel is your hormones doing bullshit things.”

“You’re just evading me”

“I’m not. I do actually know. Okay, for instance you feel really tired and sleepy right now, right?”

“Yeah”

“That’s the parasympathetic nervous system down-regulating your body and a shit load of vasopressin coursing through you”

“But that could also be because we stayed up all night and got high and just had sex”

“Why don’t you understand? It’s all chemicals, everything! There is nothing called love and whatever the fuck people feel is just their chemicals doing somersaults. There is nothing between us, we don’t know each other. There can be nothing either, look at the circumstances. People like you shouldn’t have to do anything with people like me unless it requires a monetary transaction.”

“But i can help, with whatever you’re dealing with”, he said reaching to place his hand over hers, “we can help each other”

“and what exactly do you think i’m dealing with?, she asked, withdrawing her hand, eyes narrowed at him.

“I don’t know yet”

“Exactly. You don’t know anything. I’m not some sad little girl who went to college then got depressed but in a sexy way so maybe she did drugs or whatever and dropped out and now strips for fucking aesthetic reasons probably. No honey, I’m involved with shit that can drag you down faster than a meth withdrawal and my life is a living testimony of that, take my word for it. So, go get some rest. Sleep out your saviour complex and live out your promising life when you wake up.”

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