#mentions of alcohol

[blackcherryvelvet0909]

Lifeguard Required (Divus x GN!Reader)

Content Warning: Mentions of alcohol (none present)

Note: Reader is an adult staff member, implied to be a teacher/professor or teacher's assistant

“You know, sometimes I wonder if teaching was a mistake.” Divus took another long swig of his drink. Thankfully, it was non-alcoholic. “If this keeps up, I’ll be getting gray hairs soon.”

“I think you’d look good with them,” you said with a smile. “You will have the silver fox thing going for you.” 

Divus let out a short chuckle as he adjusted himself in his seat, leg now crossed over his knee. “Well, thank you for the effort to make me feel better.” 

“No problem,” you smirked as you brought your soda to your lips, “but I meant what I said.” 

As though to stray from the conversation of aging, Divus changed the subject. “You know, when I was a student myself, I became a lifeguard part-time during the summer months.” 

“Really now?” You raised an eyebrow at the vision of a young Divus decked out in red swim trunks, a whistle around his neck and a red float under his arm. “Why’s that? Strapped for cash?” 

“Not necessarily,” he said. “While the extra money was a plus, it was mainly to build up my resume. It wasn’t the most…remarkable thing back then. It was experience enough while I pursued my interest in fashion.” 

“Do you have any pictures of you from back then?” You leaned over your chair as you raised your eyebrows in interest. “I require evidence to believe your story - and I’m curious as to how you looked back then.” 

“I looked not too different than I do now.” He picked his drink up again. “I age like a fine wine~” 

“Mhm,” you hummed, which was then followed by a teasing remark. “A strong one, to be sure, but a little dry from all the stress and age.” You ended that statement with a sip of your soda for effect. 

A smirk to match crossed Divus’s lips as he watched you sip your drink. He looked like he was going to say something else - then a loud scream caused you both to flinch. You whipped your heads in the direction of the scream just in time to see Idia Shroud get tossed into the pool by Leona Kingscholar. A loud splash resounded throughout the area, followed by droplets of water raining down from the impact. Divus quickly placed his glass on the small table between you two before he bolted up from his chair. He looked almost ready to sprint forward and dive in after him - but he relaxed the moment Idia’s head burst out from the water. He gasped for air, hands coming up to wipe dark blue strands of hair from his face. 

“What the hell?!” Idia coughed as he yelled. His yellow eyes glared daggers into Leona; if his hair was still alight, you figured it’d be burning red. 

“So, you do have hair under that burning turnip.” Leona chuckled as he smirked in Idia’s direction, completely unbothered. “Mystery solved.” 

Before either could get out another word, Divus’s boomed out in anger. “Bad dog! Kingscholar, come here, now!”

“Hm?” Leona tilted his head in the professor’s direction. While he appeared unphased, his tail twitched in irritation. “We were just foolin’ around, professor Crewel.” His smirked appeared again as he grinned and gestured to Idia. “Shroud is completely unharmed, as you can see. Do you really think I would hurt him?” 

The sweet talk and charm wouldn’t work, you knew that. Still, Leona always gave Divus a hard time; you doubt the lion would listen to him much. Then, from the other side of the pool, Trein appeared. Though he did not yell, his voice was stern and level, as though scolding a child. “Kingscholar, come with me. It seems that, once more, we need to have a chat about your poolside etiquette.” 

You were unsure why Leona didn’t pick a fight with Trein, nor why he complied with his demands with little more than a grunt of annoyance. You saw that annoyance, that irritation, as Leona’s ears flattened against his head, snarling under his breath as he turned and headed away with the professor. Was there some sort of begrudging respect the young man had for the elder? Perhaps…you did hear once from Crowley how Trein beat Leona in a duel during the student’s freshman year. Ever since that day, when Leona lost his own challenge, he hadn’t been too much of a problem for that teacher in particular. You’d have to ask Divus if he knew anything of that incident later.

For now, you watched as Divus helped Idia out from the pool. The poor boy was soaked to the bone, black hoodie weighing him down. You quickly ran and grabbed a towel for him; once you retrieved the biggest you could find, you draped it around his shoulders. Idia didn’t say much in thanks, but he shot you the smallest of smiles as his show of gratitude. Divus placed a gentle hand on Idia’s back as he began him back inside, whispering words of comfort you could scarcely hear. Before they got too far, Divus looked over his shoulder at you and asked, “Can you handle things until I return?”

You nodded and gave him a small smile of your own. “Of course.”

Divus gave you one of his own before he led Idia away. That poor boy…no wonder he often stayed in his room. You glanced in the direction that Trein and Leona had disappeared, the two no doubt having a thorough discussion somewhere just out of sight. The other students present had gone back to what they’d been doing before their fun was disturbed. You sighed, thankful no one was hurt, but tired all the same. As you sat back in your chair and took another sip of your soda, a part of you wished it was spiked - just a little. 

***

A long sigh combined with an exhausted groan escaped Divus’s lips as he returned. Though he elegantly sat down in his chair, his posture was anything but. His head lolled back as he slumped in his seat, his hand coming to run through his hair and slick it back from his forehead. His tropical button-up - one of many designs of his for the season - was now unbuttoned and slightly damp at the back. He looked more casual than usual, for sure, yet also far more exhausted than before. You wished you could tell him it’d soon be over, but that would be a lie. The trip had another week to go, and then it was back to the classrooms. 

You offered Divus his drink, which he took with a slight nod of his head. You’d never seen him chug something so fast. A chuckled as he finally opened his eyes and looked at the night sky as though it were the cause of his strife. “I think you’re ready for bed,” you said with a small laugh. 

“I’m ready for a vacation,” he grumbled. 

“But we’re on a vacation?” 

“If this is a vacation for you, I dread what you do on the daily.” Divus set his now empty glass on the table as he continued. “This is work with a tropical backdrop; I need one away from children.”

“I think we all do,” you giggled. “A weekend getaway for the staff sounds lovely.” 

Divus seemed to scoff as he said, “You assume half the staff are not the children I speak of?” 

Now that made you laugh. The alchemy professor certainly had a point; a certain headmage and coach were maddeningly unhelpful for most of this trip. What would they do if you, Divus, Mozus, and Sam took off for a weekend or more? You honestly dreaded the possibilities. “That is very true,” you uttered as your laugh faded. “We can’t take them anywhere, can we?”

While you gave no context as to whether it was the students or Crowley and Vargas you were referring to, Divus didn’t seem to care. Either answer would be correct, in his mind. He nodded with a small ‘mhm’ as a few loose strands of white and black hair fell over his forehead. “Like untrained dogs, they don’t know how to behave.” He glanced over at two certain first years as he uttered, “Some more than others.” 

“Well, at least summer break is just a month away.” You sympathized with the small groan Divus let out at the reminder of how much time was left before then. “When that time comes, I’m sure we’ll all be thankful for the rest.”

“If that rest is too good, I just might quit,” Divus joked. There was some truth to that suggestion, however. Again, you didn’t blame him. Divus rested his chin on his knuckles as he turned his gaze on you. “What do you plan to do for the break?” 

“Mmn, I don’t know,” you shrugged. “I’ll probably just relax at home, watch movies, maybe order takeout - stuff like that.” 

“No plans whatsoever?” 

“Bold of you to assume those aren’t my plans.” 

Divus let out a small ‘hmph’ as he smiled. He simply looked at you for a few seconds, as though deep in thought. You grew a tad nervous, a little shy, under that gray gaze; you mildly shrunk in your own chair as you eyed him. “What?” 

“Oh, just thinking,” he replied. He certainly seemed to be plotting something, you thought. He straightened his posture as he spoke again, “What is your opinion on upscale restaurants?” 

“Like the ones you have to dress up for?” He nodded. “Um…I’ve never been to one before,” you chuckled under your breath, “can’t afford it with my meager salary. So, I can’t say I really have an opinion on them.” 

“I see.” Those cunning eyes scanned you from head to toe. A chill ran up your back under his intense gaze; you felt like grabbing your towel and hiding underneath. Before you could ask what he was doing, he said, “I think you’d look quite fetching in red.” 

“Uh…t-thank you?” Though a blush threatened to creep on your cheeks, you barely noticed in your confusion. “Where’d that come from?” 

“Again, I am just contemplating.” 

“Contemplating what?” 

“On exactly where I should take you for dinner.” 

If this were a cartoon, you’d have been knocked out of your chair by that statement. Your soda was left completely forgotten on the table beside you as you leaned against the armrest of your chair. “I-I’m sorry, what?” 

Divus seemed to find your reply amusing for the way he tittered. “Don’t tell me that’s how you respond to every advance you receive?” 

“I’ve…never received an advance.” You couldn’t help but answer honestly; I mean, what else could you reply with? Your head swum with so many questions that you could barely think of anything else. 

“Truly?” You noticed Divus’s smile had now stretched into a charming smirk. “It’s good to know I do not have any competition.” 

“Competition for what?” You didn’t mean for your voice to rise in pitch like that. Thankfully, no one other than Divus seemed to notice. 

“So, even you, a fellow trainer of pups, are blind to such simple things.” A chuckle rumbled in his throat and rib cage before he spoke again with a wiggle of his fingers. “Come closer.” With no reason to object, you complied. Divus leaned a little closer to your face, voice a volume above a whisper as he explained himself. “On the day summer break begins, and we’re relieved of our duties, I am going to take you to a celebratory dinner. You do not need to fret about your choice of clothing - I will provide it. All you need to do is let me pick you up, drive you there, and, hopefully, enjoy the food and company.” 

“This…isn’t with Trein or the other staff, is it?” you asked, nearly at a loss for words. 

Divus chuckled again. “No, pup, it isn’t.” His fingertip tapped the underside of your chin. “Do you understand?” 

Your nod was shaky, along with your words. “Y-Yes, I do.” 

“Good dog~” He pulled away from you in that instance. “I look forward to it.” 

He stood from his seat and took his glass. He then grabbed your can of soda, shook it a little, then placed it back on the table. “Your can is near empty.” He held up his glass as he offered, “Would you like a drink?” 

Somehow, you managed to regain your composure. “Yes, I would, thank you.” 

“Preference?” 

A smile tugged at your lips as he met his eye. “I trust your judgement.” 

Divus seemed to take that as more than just picking your drink. Though his smile held its usual charm, you could spy a certain softness creep into those silver gray eyes. He gave a small nod, “I’ll be back shortly.” 

With that, he turned and walked away. Even when he left, you couldn’t help but keep smiling. Even when a certain housewarden got into an argument with a certain twin, you wore that smile through your whole mediation of the situation. You loved your job, you really did…but summer break couldn’t come soon enough. Who knows - maybe a certain lifeguard might come to your aide.

#Twisted Wonderland: Beach Episode Mini Series #my work #twisted wonderland #gender neutral reader #twst #twst x reader #divus crewel #twst divus #divus crewel x reader #twst divus x reader #twst idia #idia shroud #leona kingscholar #twst leona #idia shroud being bullied #poolside #mentions of alcohol #flirting #banter #mozus trein #twst trein #twst vargas #ashton vargas #twst crowley #dire crowley

[smallestapplin]

Ingo, Emmet, and N (sep) where during a party the reader had too much to drink. When they wake up in the morning they have a massive hangover. It’s up to the boys to help nurse the hangover. Just basically them taking care of and cuddling their S/O

I am also dying, so nows the perfect time

Also mentions of alcohol consumption, so if that’s not your thing please scroll!

-

-

🖤Ingo🖤

He was already a few steps ahead of you. After helping you to bed the night before, he made sure to leave a water bottle and some migraine medicine on your night stand, before crawling into bed.

He awoke at his usually time, but decided to call out of work, letting him lay curled against your back.

Until you woke up that is.

“Mmm…..”

You rolled away from him, not even acknowledging him as you buried your face further into your pillow while you switch to lay on your stomach.

“Darling please, at least take a sip of some water.”

Ingo was met with another low groan.

It breaks his heart to hear you in pain, and there isn’t much he can do about it. Getting up from bed, he walks around your shared room, pinning the curtains closed to keep the sunlight out, making the room nice and dim.

Once he’s satisfied with his work, he walks to your side of the bed, crouching down next to you. Ingo rubs your back in slow soothing circles, trying to get you to look up from your face full of pillow.

“Darling-“

“Ingo…” your voice muffled from the bedding, “I love you, but please….s’too loud.”

He covers his mouth, eyes widening as he forgot how loud he is, no matter how hard he’s trying to be quiet.

“Sorry.” His own voice muffled by his hand.

You don’t hear him speak, but you can hear him opening the water bottle, and feel him nudging you. You finally relent, even in the dim room your eyes squint in pain.

Ingo tries not to laugh at you recoiling and groaning again, but he waits patiently for you to recover.

Once you do, you sit up, taking the pills from his hand and taking the bottle with a soft ‘thank you.’

He knows he’ll have to make breakfast soon, just so you’ll have something in your stomach, but what’s wrong with loving on you a little longer and letting you get use to being awake?

-

-

🤍Emmet🤍

After last night, Emmet didn’t think he’d ever get you to bed, you were all over the place and giggling the entire time. Which, he will admit he found adorable, but he knew you were tired, even if you didn’t want to go to bed yet.

Though the moment your head hit your pillow, you were out like a light.

So was he, once he changed into his pajamas. With it being his day off, it’s usually rare for him to wake up before you, but he understands.

You found to good tasting drinks and went all over those, he can’t blame you.

He pulls you closer, burying his face into your neck and just basking in your presence. It’s so rare he gets to be up before you, and just enjoy it.

He lays like that until Galvantula comes crawling over, clicking for food. Emmet mutely sighs before carefully detangling himself from you, and making his way to the kitchen to give all the Pokémon their (late) breakfast.

Silver eyes gaze at the pantry, trying to figure out what would be good for you to eat, but not too much as he didn’t want to upset your stomach.

“Salty crackers are verrry good for blood pressure, but maybe just some tasty broth? Hmm….”

He weighs his options, maybe even thinking a rice based dish would be good, as to fill you up but not overload your stomach.

But he’s attention is pulled from his thoughts when Archeops gets excited, squawking happily, until he sees you round the corner, groaning.

“Archie…baby…please, I hurt.” You pick up the happy fossil Pokémon, which makes him quiet down and nuzzle into your neck.

Emmet chuckles at the scene, but is quick to react. Before you know it you’re being handed some pain relievers and some water.

“I’ll make you coffee in a moment, yup! Go sit.” He gently kisses your temple, and ushering you to the living room.

Once you sit, however, you’re quickly wrapped up in a blanket by your loving boyfriend, surrounded by all your ‘movie night’ pillows, and made cozy.

With Archie cuddling into you.

And Galvantula joining on your head.

And Eelektross trying to squeeze in, and ends up laying on your legs.

And Durant hissing before joining to lay at your left side.

You’re being drowned in cuddles.

They got it from Emmet, but he takes this as a win! Now he can make you some coffee, without worrying about you getting up.

-

-

💚N💚

He didn’t drink the entire time, not being one for such parties as he stood by the wall, watching you bounce between him and chatting with your friends.

He was happy watching you enjoy yourself, but one drink turned into two, then three, then four and so on, as the sweet tasting drink hid just how much alcohol you were consuming.

He laughed to himself at how you passed out in bed, clinging to him and refusing to let him go. But he didn’t mind, simply putting his hat on the nightstand and curling around you.

In the morning it’s a different story, as N likes to wake up with the sun, it’s just his internal clock.

But you won’t let go.

Even in your sleep you have a grip on him, nuzzling your face into his chest, subconsciously hoping the pressure will lessen your pain. N can’t help but stay right in bed, not wanting to disturb your slumber.

Though he’d like to get up, he knows you aren’t going to feel well, and he wants to help that! N looks at the clock, realizing he’s been laying here for the last four hours after he woke up.

It’s not that early to you, but it’s late to him.

N slowly starts shuffling, carefully and slowly worming his way out of your grasp.

Every time you seem like you’re about to wake, he freezes, cooing at you and kissing the top of your head until you settle. Once he’s sure it’s safe he starts again, after thirty minutes he’s free! N pushes his hair out of his face, taking a deep breath before making his next moves.

He moves around your home silently, making no noise as he opens the cabinet for some pain relievers, after securing those he starts a pot of coffee before grabbing a water bottle and heading back towards your shared bedroom.

Stopping by the hallway closet to grab a decently weighted pillow case filled with rice.

Poking his head into the dark room, he sees you haven’t moved from your spot. N can’t stop the smile forming on his face, you’re too cute.

He’s entirely too smitten, even now as your eyes slowly flutter open.

He can’t help but softly chuckle at your little groan.

“Good morning, my love. How do you feel?”

Instead of an answer, you let out a pained whimper before covering your face with the blanket. He takes it as the room is still too bright for you.

“I know, but please, you need to take something for the pain.”

His low voice coaxes you from your shield of blankets.

Looking at his outstretched hands, seeing the pills and water bottle, you sigh caving and taking both.

He smiles, happy you’re taking it.

N leans over, kissing your forehead once you’ve placed the water bottle down.

“I have some coffee going, as caffeine can help with headaches, but I’ll also make you some breakfast, you need something in your stomach after all.”

“Okay..” you leans against him, nuzzling against his shoulder.

He hopes you can’t feel how fast his heart is beating.

“Thank you.” You mumble.

“Anything for you, my light.”

He’ll look into buying black out curtains, just in case this happens again or you get a migraine.

#pokemon imagines #pokemon x reader #pokemon ingo #pokemon ingo x reader #pokemon emmet #pokemon emmet x reader #pokemon n #pokemon n x reader #mentions of alcohol #pokemon fluff #submas #submas emmet #submas ingo #submas x reader #submas ingo x reader #submas emmet x reader

[kitty-safe-space]

Friendly reminder you're still valid and you're not "weird" if you:

dont have/dont want a cg

wear/want to wear diapers in a sfw way

wear/want to wear a collar or tail/ears in a sfw way

dont have/want any little gear

dont use any community labels

are still figuring out your regression

you have a fully adult life outside of agere (e.g if you are sexually active, drink, work, etc)

dont fit the stereotype of the "agere aesthetic"

aren't white, skinny, neurotypical, etc.

are a boy, nonbinary, trans, etc

are lgbt+ in general

are disabled and/or mentally ill

get sad/struggle with your mental health while regressing

regress because of/to deal with trauma

your regression is yours, you know yourself, and as long as you're staying safe and not hurting anyone, no one can tell you otherwise.

Dni: lgbt+ exclusionists, r/adfems, ns/fw, e/d, s/h or discourse blogs, pr0ship, anti-agere/petre/sfw cglre or if you call people cringe because of their interests.

#agere #age regression #age dreaming #agedre #agere caregiver #agere textpost #caregiver comfort #sfw caregiver #agedre textpost #agere cg #cg comfort #sfw cg #cg blog #caregiver textpost #caregiver blog #age regression caregiver #boy agere #agere boy #agere blog #boy regressor #petre #pet regression #padded regressor #diabled regressor #noncom agere #poc regressor #mentions of sex #mentions of alcohol #🧋 gender neutral 🧋 #🧋 queue 🧋

[rockingrobin69]

Reaching

“Warm, isn’t it,” Malfoy tugged at his collar with half a glance in Harry’s direction. Unnecessary; Harry’s eyes were already glued to him, the impossibly long column of his neck. Pale and glistening like an ice sculpture. Unreachable. “Is something the matter?”

“Hmm?”

Malfoy didn’t dignify that with a response. Leaned closer, one eyebrow hiking—and the haze in Harry’s mind was entirely due to alcohol, thank you very much, and the heat pooling in his belly to do with the club’s oppressive air. Not the tilt of Malfoy’s lips, parted and lovely pink, or his obscenely tight excuse for trousers Harry’s hands kept twitching towards. Definitely wasn’t the little huff of air he let out: ah, just like that, like a promise or a threat.

“Boring,” he said. Took a moment for Harry’s brain to catch up.

“What?”

“Don’t be boring. Dance with me.” Hands coming to rest on Harry’s thighs—when did Malfoy get up? Was he always standing so close? Did he always smell like smoke and sweat and something tangy and sharp—

And the movement, undulating hips against Harry’s legs, head thrown back, throat bared for Harry to—dancing, maybe, grinding to the beat of the music Harry could only barely hear. Couldn’t, think, couldn’t, breathe—his hands firm around Malfoy’s waist, instinctively holding down, crushing closer. Closer, Malfoy hard against him, then this laughter cascading down his entire body.

“Oh,” Malfoy huffed, mad and so close Harry’s mind was melting. “Oh, fuck, you’re—” panting in Harry’s face, eyes blown wide.

“Yeah?” only to hear his voice like that again. Ragged raw.

“You’re everywhere,” the way he blinked, and blinked, tongue darting to wet his lips. Half-unravelled, from this, from nothing. Harry felt lightheaded, drunk on the revelation, fingers still tightening, bruising into his hipbone.

Swallowed a silly spike of fear. With a growl, pulling Malfoy’s head down so their noses were level. Mindlessly brushing a thumb down his bottom lip, delighted to find it cool to the touch. Malfoy’s tongue came out again, a hint of a lick, with that look in his eyes. Harry’s mind snapped.

Kissing him became the only objective. Those little ah, ahs Harry swallowed greedily, forgetting they were in public, forgetting, fuck, Ron and Nev at the bar, forgetting to breathe when Malfoy basically climbed in his lap, pushing his head so far back it ached. Everything did, a little: sparkled, and ached, and burned.

“Come back to my place,” Harry managed to say, commanding and begging into Malfoy’s mouth. “Come home with me.”

Malfoy laughed, a low sound. “Ah,” half-intentional this time. “Not so boring after all.”

Something absurd rushed through him, warm and pinching like affection. “No,” Harry agreed, and traced the sharp line of Malfoy’s jaw. “Not so boring.”

He melted in his arms—kept melting all night long. Harry deliriously lapped him up, and those ah, ahs, and the column of his neck, blooming red and purple under Harry’s careful tongue, reachable and all his.  

(Flufftober day 12. Find the soft AO3 collection here).

#drarry fic #rated M #public - indecency? #mentions of alcohol #more... scorching than soft #but still in a gentle fond way #500 words #flufftober2023 #prompt: fire and ice #rockingrobin69

[theminecraftbee]

There’s a flier someone’s left on the bus. Something shaming a—company logo he doesn’t recognize, as he shoves it aside to grab the last seat in the back that usually means he and Gem don’t have to sit next to anyone else—for “desecration of the Carrows Life”. Alright; with a logo and a slogan like that, it’s either a religious nut job or one of the people real mad at the Church about the demons.

Yeah, sure. He’s exhausted. Impulse can’t really bring himself to care about neon-yellow fliers in the dead of night on the bus.

Just another hour and practically every single stop down the line, and he’ll be home. He’s glad there’s a late-night bus down here; enough people come and go from these streets at two am that they make some poor bus driver do the route.

Next to him, Gem grumbles as she removes her makeup. “Impulse, why do I keep getting the waterproof kind?”

“Hard to dance and still look good if it doesn’t stand up to sweat,” Impulse says, settling into his seat as the bus starts moving again. “Don’t see why that should make it that much harder to remove, unless you’re sweating acetone these days, but they don’t pay me to know how your makeup works.”

“No, they pay you to be your stupid big protective butt. You absolutely know how my makeup works,” Gem says.

“You could wait until we aren’t on a moving bus to take it off?” Impulse offers.

“Nah. I need something to do so I don’t fall asleep, and I’m not opening my other bag until we’re both safely at home.”

“Yeah, fair,” Impulse says, not glancing at it for too long. Gem had a good night tonight. Sometimes, he’s jealous of the nights she has; the amount people are willing to throw at her sometimes is insane. Most of the time, though, he’s just glad he’s paid a regular salary to stand in the corner and occasionally show people exactly why he’s so big if they act up.

(Someone’s got to do it.)

The doors open. The unmistakeable smell of someone on way, way too much weed wafts through the doors. Impulse sighs. There’s a reason they sit in the back.

“What are the odds we get lucky and get home early?” Gem says. “My knee hurts.”

Impulse looks at her sharply. “You didn’t say anything during the show.”

Gem laughs. “Relax, relax. Not that bad. Nothing a bit of icyhot won’t solve, or one of your little…” She wiggles her fingers.

“You need to tell me these things before you dance on them, Gem,” Impulse says. “One of these days, I won’t be able to fix it! Then what are you gonna do about your knee, huh?”

“Uhuh. And the bruise on your face…?”

“He was drunk,” Impulse says. “It’s barely a scratch. Or, uh, well, it’s a bruise, but…”

“If I were any good at healing,” Gem says.

“I’ll ice it!” Impulse says, putting his hands up. “Besides, I don’t need my face to do my job. Might make guys respect me more?”

The bus stops. A few more people get on. There’s a bit of shouting from a drunk guy, and it makes Impulse look up on instinct, both his and Gem’s awareness hovering around their bag. Gem has a nasty curse on it if anyone but her tries to grab it, but these days…

The drunkard isn’t looking their way. He settles down again. Impulse doesn’t.

“One day, one of us will get a car, and we’ll just drive,” Impulse mutters.

“And pay for parking?” Gem asks.

“Well, it’s the thought that counts,” Impulse says.

The bus stops. Impulse looks up at the sign, just to make sure they aren’t near their stop. They aren’t. He almost looks down.

There’s a feeling in his gut. He doesn’t ignore gut feelings after as long as he’s been doing what he does. He puts a hand in his jacket. He doesn’t actually carry a gun; people think he does, but he’s fairly effective at threatening without it, and if all else fails, he does have a thick vest he’d bought with his own money after the only time he’d been shot. It had taken all of his savings, but it had been worth it.

He curls his fingers instead around the lucky charm Gem had given him after they’d become roommates and tries to focus on the feeling. There's something scraping nearby. A horrible scraping, like talons against brick, or maybe more like death clawing against soil.

The bus starts moving again. The drunks stay drunk. The fellow exhausted club and bar workers stay exhausted. The guy who’s high out of his mind doesn’t even blink.

A woman who had gotten on the bus, though, approaches them. Gem stiffens. Impulse is hyper-aware of the bag full of the night’s tips that Gem has with her.

“Hello. Sorry for interrupting,” the woman says. She’s tall. She has long, light brown hair that she hasn’t tied back. She’s wearing a long overcoat. It looks second-hand, but not properly so, like it’s being worn by someone who doesn’t quite know how to fit into second-hand clothes, or perhaps doesn’t quite know how not to fit.

There's bruises on her face, too. A split lip and a black eye and a bit of blood on the collar of her shirt.

"You look lost," Impulse says without thinking. The woman blinks.

"Oh! Yes, I suppose you could say that," she says. "That's..."

Impulse slowly takes his hand out of his jacket. Her voice is even more lost, somehow. Impeccably put-together. Very hard to read. But Impulse, he has to read people for a living, and this is a woman who is lost.

"I was just here because you two look the most aware and fit on the bus," she says.

"Oh, I'm not all that fit," Gem lies to the woman's face. "I mean, just look at me! I'm delicate!"

Impulse has seen Gem's abs. She's not delicate, she just puts on a show of being—still not delicate, actually, but the kind of not-delicate men like, not the kind of not-delicate she actually is. It's a fine line.

The woman raises an eyebrow. "Okay," she says. "I'm just—there are demons. Not far. I got away from them, but they might be following you."

"They're following you?" says Gem.

"Shhh," says the woman.

"Fine," Impulse says. "They're following you. Why? And why did you get on the bus?"

The woman is silent for a moment. "I don't think they'll catch up to us," she says. "I don't—I don't have another place to go back to, right now. I'm a bit... I don't mean to put anyone in danger. You two are the most fit looking people on here, is all. If danger did happen..."

Impulse feels something in him crack. He looks at Gem. It wouldn't be the first time the two of them have helped someone down on their luck off the streets. Of course, it's not entirely out of the goodness of their hearts, all the time, but, well, Impulse is still Impulse and Gem puts up with it and this world doesn't work if people don't help each other, Impulse has always said.

Gem shrugs and nods.

"Sit down. You can get off at our stop. My name's Gem, by the way."

The woman, slowly, sits down in a seat across from them.

"Impulse," Impulse says.

The woman opens her mouth. The woman closes it. "You can call me Griba," she says, finally.

Impulse quirks an eyebrow. "I can call you?"

"Hey, that sounds like—wasn't there someone with a name like that on the news recently?" Gem says.

The woman grimaces. "You could say that," she says.

Gem and Impulse look at each other. They look back at the woman. "Fine then. Keep your secrets," Gem says imperiously, and her tone works, because it makes—Griba, Impulse supposes, until she wants to give them her real name—laugh.

"At least until we find out if the demons get me," she says agreeably.

The bus stops again. They all tense. One person gets off and no one gets on. The bus starts moving again.

"One of these days," Impulse mutters.

"You've got to finish the sentence," Gem says. "Don't leave me hanging like that!"

"Is this an ongoing thing?" Griba says, and they continue onwards together.

#a bee fic #last days talk #not tagging with the characters both to preserve the (very thin) mystery of who one of these is #and because there are some adult implications here i don't necessarily want in the main tags #anyway. for anyone wondering what i'd do with a last days sequel: something like this. #mentions of alcohol #mentions of drugs #also for the record. the way... griba... enters this story is an intentional parallel with how she does it in last days #however changed because she's changed as a character and that's a large part of what this story would be about

[r3dkn0ts]

huntress, knight and singularity congratulating killer!reader who’s brand new to the realm on their first 4k?

This sounds interesting! Let's give it a go!

Killers reacting to their Killer!S/O's First 4K

The Huntress / Anna - She's definitely celebrating with you in her own little way. Anna isn't a drinker, but she may offer you something physical like a massage or even carve a little animal for you out of wood. - Anna's gonna give you so many kisses on the forehead as congratulations. Many, many smooches.

The Knight / Tarhos Kovács - Bring out the mead! As expected, he's gonna bring Alejandro, Durkos, and Sander to celebrate alongside you two. It'd be stupid not to! - If you're not into alcoholic beverages, Tarhos will be a bit disappointed, but he'll get over it eventually. There are ways to celebrate festivities without losing your consciousness! - After the three guards have finished drinking all the mead they could find scattered around the borgo, you and Tarhos could finally have some alone time. Although, most of the time would most likely consist of you curling into his side and resting after taking off his heavy armor and brushing out his tangled hair.

The Singularity / HUX-A7-13 - Sorry to burst your bubble, but HUX simply feels no need to celebrate such a feat. Being an artificial intelligence has its benefits, but also its downsides. One of those downsides is not finding joy in much of anything, much less little accomplishments. - If you told him about your 4K and expected anything more than the emotionless "congratulations" that you received, sorry. Maybe if you got lucky, he'd give you a little pat on the head with his arm that isn't a gigantic rusted blade.

#dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight imagines #the huntress x reader #anna x reader #the knight x reader #tarhos kovacs x reader #the singularity x reader #hux-a7-13 x reader #gender neutral reader #fluff #mentions of alcohol #shoutout to all my fellow robot fuckers

[rachalixie]

can’t get you off my mind

classic you-meet-minho-at-a-party-and-he-takes-your-breath-away trope

warnings: alcohol mention, minho x gender neutral reader

genre: strangers to lovers

word count: 750+

the first time you see him he’s walking through the front door with chan and jisung like he owns the place.

he’s stupidly pretty, with plump pink lips formed into a pout and long lashes framing big eyes. he’s wearing sinfully tight leather pants and a soft looking sweater, a look you didn’t think would ever fit but somehow this boy makes it work. you realize you’ve been staring for longer than is socially acceptable when he turns and his eyes latch onto yours, and your cheeks burn as your gaze drops down to the half finished drink in your hand. your mind is racing, you swear you’ve seen him before somewhere, his eyes are captivatingly familiar. your friend taps you on the shoulder, holding out a ball indicating that it’s your turn to go in pong, and he almost leaves your mind.

the second time you see him, he’s leaning against the kitchen island in a way which you can only describe as cocky. you can’t shake how familiar he looks, but where have you seen him before?

“another drink?” he asked, holding out a seltzer to you. you take it, nodding in thanks.

“you’re here alone? no one to get drinks for you?” he asks teasingly, perching up on the counter.

“i don’t think that’s any of your business,” you flush, refusing to feel embarrassed. “last i saw, you walked in here alone too.” a low blow, maybe, but he started it.

“is that you admitting to have been watching me?” he asks, leaning his elbows on his knees and resting his chin in his hands, which would have been an adorable pose for anyone other than him. “it’s okay. i’ve been watching you too. anyone who i was with tonight wouldn’t have held a match to you.”

you choked on your seltzer, staring at him in shock, but he just hopped off the counter and sauntered away.

the third time you see him, he’s white-knuckling a bottle of beer in his hand while cringing away from a girl in a ridiculously short skirt and false lashes. you’re walking towards them, trying to get to the balcony behind them to get some fresh air. he grabs your wrist before you can walk past them, and all but pushes you between himself and the unnamed girl just as she’s reaching to feel his bicep.

“this is y/n,” he says, his voice smooth as velvet despite the discomfort you know he’s feeling. “have you two met?”

the girl scoffs, not bothering to answer him as she walks away in search of other prey.

“rude,” you giggle, breath catching as you realize he’s still holding your wrist. “wait, how do you know my name?” you ask, his earlier comment mixed with this interaction catching you way off guard.

“i make it a point to know everyone here, y/n,” he said, turning his grip on your wrist to hold your hand. “it’s a pleasure to meet you, by the way.”

you blush, questioning how he can be so ridiculously charming and annoyingly cocky at the same time. you open your mouth to answer, but before you can speak he’s beckoned by chan and jisung from the other side of the room.

“minho!” chan exclaims, flushed and giggly drunk, making the pretty boy’s head turn. “minho come here!”

“come see this! changbin’s about to crush this guy in arm wrestling!” jisung followed, giddy.

“duty calls,” minho says, leaning into your space just long enough for you to smell his sweet musky cologne under the alcohol on his sweater. he smirks and walks away, leaving you to finally get to the balcony.

minho, you mouth his name, testing it out. i like it.

the fourth time you see him, you’re leaving the bathroom and he’s right by the door, beckoning you into a room down the hallway with crooked fingers. of course you follow, and as soon as you enter the door he shuts and locks it behind you, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. he backs you up to the bed, and you let out a yelp as your knees hit the edge and give out. he’s looking down at you, smiling softly in place of the smirk he’s been wearing all night.

“minho, can we be in here?” you ask timidly, your hands twisting around each other. he makes you nervous, you can’t help it.

“oh, kitten, this is my house. you’re on my bed,” he practically purrs, moving closer to you and caging you against the headboard. “you don’t need to worry about any of that.”

turns out, he does actually own the place.

—

masterlist

#lee know #lee know skz #lee know x reader #lee know x you #minho #lee minho #stray kids #skz #stray kids imagine #stray kids x reader #lee know stray kids #stray kids oneshot #bang chan #han jisung #jisung #chan #mentions of alcohol #lee know x y/n #ambiguous ending #stray kids fluff #lee know fluff #minho x reader #shy reader #strangers to lovers #rachalixie fics

[goldfeizh]

"Like-like"

PAIRING : George Weasley/Male!Reader, crushing

FANDOM : Harry Potter, one-shot

CONTAINS : Drunk love confessions, fluff, like- one swear word, mentions of alcohol (THIS IS NOT PROOFREAD‼️)

Gryffindor parties are often described to be rather wild, and although it contributes to the stereotype that all Gryffindors are loud and obnoxious, it's not entirely false that the parties they throw can be over-the-top lively. However, nobody ever mentions the calmer aftermath, when the energy has died down and everyone is either wasted, exhausted, or have passed out. You expected George to get drunk— knowing that he and his twin are the life of the party —and you expected you would be the one looking after him, as you always do. Maybe you care for him just a little too much, because if you didn't, you wouldn't be painstakingly dragging the boy up the stairs toward the dormitories.

"Godric's sake, George—" You mutter under your breath as you attempt to haul him up. He's heavy, and certainly stubborn about staying sat on the cold, wooden floor. He groans in protest, whining with slurred words. It always seems like he becomes more irritatingly immature in moments like these. You sigh in defeat, leaning against the wall beside George in an exasperated manner then sliding down to sit next to him.

"Fine then, we're sleeping in the hallway." You mutter, clearly annoyed yet you can't really bring yourself to truly be mad at George. Your gaze wanders, and eventually it lands on the boy beside you. He's rambling on about something without a care in the world, his words don't make any sense. You find yourself chuckling at his ridiculously messy hair, and the way he tries to form coherent sentences and act as if he's sober. It's amusing.

"Then I looked.. I saw you, it was—" George pauses, as if looking for the right thing to say through his inebriated mind, "—It was like, woahh, y'know?" He gestures with his hands to convey an effect of awe, almost hitting you in the process. He turns to you with this stupid grin on his face, he's all giggly and dazed, and it makes you wonder if it's because he's looking at you.

You raise an eyebrow at his words. Humoring him would mean having to deal with drunken ramblings, you don't know if you have the social energy for that. Still, it would make your night less boring. "What d'you mean by woah?" You ask, curiosity hanging in the air. You watch as your friend's expression changes, looking as though he's processing what you'd just said. Or maybe it's a look of incredulity, like he can't quite believe you'd ask that, 'cause to him, the answer is obvious.

"Because," He pauses, leaning against you. For a moment, he just stares at you, until he realizes that you're expecting a reason. George clears his throat, "You're pretty— prettiest boy I ever, uh, seen." He states matter-of-factly, feigning a serious expression. Despite his efforts, a cheeky grin makes it's way to his lips as he snickers, "Aside from me, o' course!"

The compliment catches you off-guard— even though you know that he's under the influence of alcohol and sheer honesty is pretty common for people who are intoxicated, but you're still surprised. And although you laugh along with a scoff as you playfully push the other way, a thought lingers in your head. He thinks you're pretty. "Oh, fuck off." You mutter, rolling your eyes.

"What? Y'dont believe me?"

"Not one bit!"

"C'mon," He laughs softly, "I mean it!" George insists. He lets his head fall on your shoulder as he's slouched on the floor with his eyes closed. "I like your face."

You hum, "I like your face too, I guess."

It falls silent, a comfortable quiet that George immediately interrupts because he just can't seem to stop talking for more than 10 seconds, "The rest of you is pretty cool too."

"Really now?" You reply absentmindedly, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve. Even with your attempt to act nonchalant, the warmth of your face gives away how affected you truly are by his comments.

"Yeah, I likee—" He trails off, the sound of his fingers tapping against the wooden floor rings in your ears. "Eh, you." George declares finally, nodding to himself like he's making sure what he said was right.

If you were surprised by his compliment earlier, this one has rendered you speechless. Partly out of shock, but also because you're far too busy running through rampant thoughts and going through every possibility or reason for him to say that to even think of a response. You don't want to get ahead of yourself and assume that it's a confession. Meanwhile, he doesn't seem to notice how tense your shoulders had become, "Like a lot," George continues thoughtfully. "More than anyone, actually. Uhm, 's that weird? I hope not."

You don't respond, because what are you supposed to do when your friend says something that you know he won't even remember in the morning?

George murmurs under his breath, "Think I—" He cuts himself off, abruptly sitting up straight. His eyebrows are furrowed yet his eyes hold that dazed stare, which makes you contemplate if it's George or the alcohol talking. "No no, I know that I..." He stammers, his expression one of concentration as he tries to find the right words to convey how he feels, or atleast that's what it looks like to you. "Like-like you."

It takes you a moment to react. He sounds so sincere and genuine, and you can't help but bark out a laugh because you'd never thought you would hear George ever say the words 'Like-like', especially not during a drunk confession. It doesn't take long for the other to join in on your laughter, although he doesn't really seem to understand what you find so funny and that just seems to make the situation all the more comedic.

"Alright, come on." You stand up from the floor, patting down any dust on your pants before you reach a hand out to George. "Let's get you to your dorm." You smiles as he takes your hand into his, and only now do you notice how calloused and warm his palm is. It's like all the worries you had moments prior have now been stored in the far back of your mind, you'll worry about it again in the morning. You haul the boy up, and this time he lets you pull him to his feet. He stumbles forward, legs still wobbly as you quickly catch him.

"For the record, I like-like you too," You finally admit whilst guiding George to his dorm-room.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

FINALLY, this took me way too long than it should have. Not my best work tbh, there are some parts that I like and some parts that I wish I had done better. I don't know if I did good on the dialogue, this is my first time writing a drunk character so I hope I did atleast half-decent. I'm still pretty proud of this, though. As always, likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated!!

#george weasley x male reader #george weasley x reader #george weasley #george weasley fluff #george weasley fic #george weasley fanfiction #x male reader #male reader #x reader #hp fandom #hp #fluff #hogwarts fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #character x reader #george weasley x you #drunk confessions #mentions of alcohol #💌 feizh writes

[wonderful-magician]

These are mostly just mediocre sketches of different concepts suggested by y'all wonderful people. I'm planning to do a colored reference for swap Daroach ( the robin Hood looking one ) and a proper more showing depiction of daroach drunk. With some hcs!

#kirby #daroach #hoshi no kirby #hoshi no kaabii #kirby gijinka #mentions of alcohol #cw alcohol #dark meta knight #because of the outfit swap lmao

[katmk36]

Spring - Chestnut Ridge - Second Dakota Household

Hayes thought he had his fake ID but he didn't and got caught.

What followed the next few days was a lecture from his sister and her husband. A court hearing where he was found guilty and put on probation.

#sims 4 #sims 4 gameplay #choices and consequences #sims 4 rotation #sims 4 rotation play #CAC Gen 1 #Chestnut Ridge #second Dakota family #mentions of Alcohol #tw acohol

[unknownthebook]

Merlin's Kisses

By Unknown Book

Summary: Merlin is a very affectionate friend, and the Knights of the Round Table live for it. They make a bet to see who can earn the ultimate affection:

 A cheek kiss from Merlin.

(UPDATES EVERY SUNDAY)

#Merlin #bbc's merlin #bbc merlin #bbc merthur #Merthur #Fanfiction #fanfic #fic #fanfiction.net #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link #my fic #platonic affection #cheek kisses #Knights of the Round Table #canon divergence #alternate universe #AU #mentions of alcohol #pining #mutual pining #oblivious merlin #oblivious arthur #everyone loves merlin #Takes place in season 3 or 4 #Author is due for a re-watch #Fluff #happy ending #Arthur

[ficmesideways]

Request for Anonymous Gif Source: Haymitch

Imagine giving Haymitch a blowjob for his birthday

------- Imagine -------

“You know you can sometimes be a very dislikeable person.” Haymitch said drunkenly in the chair you had deposited him in. “Yes, but you still love me.” You replied as you pulled off his shoes and tossed them aside. “Especially when I am the one who paid for all those drinks for your birthday.” You said kneeling in front of him and leaning forward to press your body against him. “Besides, I haven’t even given you your present yet.” As you said this you reached forward to begin slowly unbuckling his belt and nuzzling as his slowly hardening cock through his jeans.

“This….is very true. You do have your…fuck…your virtues.” He said rolling his hips against you and running his fingers through your hair. You smiled feeling his matching wedding ring brush your head as he touched your. Pulling him free of his pants and giving him a long lick from root to tip you pulled away and whispered “Happy Birthday baby," before taking him fully into your mouth.

#my imagines #gifs not mine #female reader #the hunger games imagine #haymitch abernathy imagine #spicy content #mentions of alcohol

[rockingrobin69]

Bright

The poor coaster, shredded to bits, left incriminating marks on his fingers. Blue ink on shabby cardboard, sticky with condensation: now, who thought this was a good idea? Coming tonight. Refusing to acknowledge the increasingly-drunker crowd of his so-called ‘friends’, who finally gave up on trying to get him to play. (Ha. Like he’d ever do anything as silly as participate in magically-binding truth or dare when Potter was in the vicinity). Not looking, still noticing him: an elbow here and a curl there, the heel of his shoe and a finger pointing at something.

Not looking. Sitting in his corner and not looking. Only barely resisting the urge to thunk his head back against the wall, the compulsion to sink into the booth until he disappeared between the cushions. Grabbed his glass for something to do with his hands, found it empty. Above, in the real world, the music had changed into something slow and soft, and Draco, ridiculously, wanted to cry.

“Scoot over, you mopey little thing,” came a shove from his right, then “there you are, you arse, we thought you’d left,” and “Millie! he’s here, c’mon.”

Draco blinked the silliness out of his eyes. Pansy, Greg and Ginny, effectively squishing him into a pitiful sardine. Crossed his arms, tried for a scathing remark, came up short.

“And then I said, if you weren’t such an insufferable bitch, none of this would have happened!”

“Then you kissed her,” Millie, rolling her eyes. “What’s up with Draco? Why’s he making that face?”

“I’m not making a—”

“He’s just brooding because Potter didn’t ask him to dance,” Pansy, shrilly in his ear. “Why don’t you ask him yourself, you berk?”

“Why are you shouting!” Draco roared back.

On the other end of the booth, Greg was sighing into his hands. “D’you guys think Longbottom will show up?”

“Shall we get another round?”

“But you are a berk, Potter’s been trying all night to—”

“Another round! Draco’s on it!” someone shoved at him again, Ginny or Pansy, he couldn’t be sure, all the way around the table until he was thrown out of the booth. “Thanks ever so much, darling!”

Draco—gave up. Huffed something a bit amused and very angry, and mostly tired, slunk his way to the bar. Truly, why did he come tonight, couldn’t remember: something to do with a threat to cut all his hair, or… no, Pansy wasn’t mean tonight. Something like—

“Oof,” a weight at his back, pinning him to the counter. “Sorry, I—shit, sorry, Draco!”

Right. Potter’s familiar smell (firewood and night sky), his warmth, too close. Draco made himself turn with what took improbable strength, to stare at Potter’s pretty face, at his pretty mouth hanging open.

“I’m so sorry. I…”

Behind him, Weasley was giggling, Hermione rolling her eyes. Draco, too familiar with being the butt of the joke, sighed.

“It’s all right. You can get off me now. It’s fine.”

But Potter didn’t move. His hands, empty, trailed either side of Draco on the bar. “You,” he swallowed.

Small between the wood and Potter: “Me.”

“No, that’s not what I… you’re here.”

“Yes. I believe you invited me.”

Potter shook his head, a strangely gentle movement. “I meant, you’re here, right now. I wanted…” Potter-brave, he smiled, leaned closer. It took everything in Draco not to cower away.

“You wanted?” this riot in his chest. Potter’s was rising and falling fast, throat working tightly on a swallow, and another. His face lit up with a smile, unbearably bright.

“Yes,” he said softly.

“I’ve been told,” Draco started, choked, “advised, in fact, to ask you to dance.”

The tilt of his eyebrow was the dearest thing. “Good advice. Reckon you should take it.”

“Do you now,” warm on a startled chuckle, mindlessly pushing closer, to tuck a curl of Potter’s hair behind an ear. Found his hand lingering, just beyond touch: gasped when Potter hummed, leaned into it.

“Ask me.”

Draco forgot how to speak forever. “Want… ah, want to dance, Potter?”

“Why, yes, I do.”

The music came back into existence when he pulled away, something cheery and not at all important. There was a blue mark on Potter’s neck from Draco’s fingers, from the ink, from the coaster. Draco couldn’t stop staring. Felt oddly pleased at this unintentional mark, doubly so when Potter turned to look at him, molten-gold and so pretty.

“Coming?” with his hand outstretched. Breathe, Draco told his useless lungs, then gave up the effort altogether. Took the hand. Yes.

In the periphery, his so-called ‘friends’. Greg was making eyes at Longbottom, Pans and Ginny were snogging again, Millie was dancing with Hermione and Weasley, and in the dimness of the bar, and the whirling in his chest, the whole world was… bright.

For my darling friend, @phoebe-delia. Happy birthday sweetheart. I love you, I love you, I love you. (You can find the rest of my flufftober pieces here).

#drarry fic #happy birthday phoebes #flufftober2023 #mentions of alcohol #very soft #very pining #very mutual very silly gooses #900 words #rockingrobin69

[fankhx-invasion]

Oh my god can i pls request a part 2 to the alien ace/peter oneshot u wrote??? Its so good i love it so much immediately😭💙

Absolutely! I didn't know if people would actually enjoy it but I'm glad you all do!

Spaceman | 2

Implied Peter/Ace, aliens, loneliness, mentions of alcohol

┍━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━┑

Several months have passed by now, both Ace and Peter had been learning new things about each other over the course of time they had together. Peter learned about Ace's home planet, Jendell, their strange customs, and how he'd crashed on Earth. Turns out, it was a complete accident! Ace's ship got hit by a lightning strike and it made the technology malfunction. Now he was here, his ship was decimated, but Ace was lucky to survive. He also realized that Jendellians were far too comfortable being nude.

As for Ace, he learned basic English phrases, new foods, all about Peter, and other humans. They were so fun and interesting! Humans spoke different languages too, not just English, but English by itself was already a challenge he was trying to tackle head first. He loved getting to learn how to say Peter's name, his own name, and watching the man play drums. Ace wasn't really allowed outside yet, especially since his strange appearance would make him stick out like a sore thumb in society. Peter was considering buying makeup to at least help cover his face and neck, and hope for the best. Peter did, however, manage to buy some clothes for Ace so he wasn't stuck with sharing his. Despite having his own section of the closet, Ace still borrowed a few of his button down shirts, though he never actually saw the alien wearing them half of the time.

Today, Peter had exciting news; he had a gig to play tonight, which meant more money for the both of them. But Ace, oh poor Ace wasn't happy about this sudden change of routine. Peter had left Ace home before, but only for a quick shopping trip and nothing more! This event would be hours long, meaning the alien was alone for hours. He didn't like being separated from Peter at all.

"Really have to go..?" He whined, clinging to Peter's arm as he shoved a coat on.

"If you want to have a place to stay, then yes, yes I do."

Ace pouted, huffing and looking at the ground. "Currency is stupid.."

A cat-like grin pulled at Peter's lips, and he pulled Ace in for a hug, patting him on the back. "It is man, but it's life, y'know?"

Ace nodded solemnly and let go of his arm now, watching him grab his belongings, keys, wallet, everything he needed, his drums already in the van.

"I'll be back before midnight, okay? If you get hungry or thirsty, you know what to do."

"Bye bye, Peter.." Ace still looked upset but he knew there was nothing he could do. He stayed there in front of the door, even as Peter pulled out of the driveway, looking like a lost dog.

Now, he was all alone. Ace looked down at the ground, then around the house, the saddest, pitiful whine escaping his throat. He thought about what Peter and him would normally do at this hour.. drink something, watch the television, talk. He couldn't talk to anyone else, and he didn't like watching the regularly scheduled programming without Peter, because he couldn't understand half of it. Ace opted for drinking, opening the fridge and getting hit with a wave of cold air, looking through it and pulling out a bottle of some weird liquid Peter sometimes drank. He seemed to enjoy this stuff, so, surely it must've been good. Only issue was he couldn't figure out how to open the bottle, since the top didn't twist off and wasn't already pre-poured into a cup for him. He huffed, banging the top of the bottle against the counter a few times, jumping back when the glass actually did break and some of the drink spilled out and frothed up. He let out a small noise, grabbing a mug and pouring the drink with two hands, leaving the glass bottle on the counter. Ace lifted the mug to his lips, taking a few curious sips and purring in delight. It was good! It tasted incredible to him, and he found himself chugging the entire cup in mere seconds.

"Mmm.. nice.." he felt his head buzz just a bit, and it was almost sort of relaxing, yet he was still upset with Peter's leaving, a frown forming on his face.

Ace wandered through the house, looking at all of Peter's belongings, then his room, lazily snatching a shirt from his closet and shoving the silky fabric up against his nose. It smelled like Peter, smokey and musky, and it was an absolute comfort. The alien opted for curling up onto Peter's bed, which also smelled just like him, and Ace wanted to absolutely drown in the scent of his favorite human on this planet. He let out another sad whimper, grabbing a pillow, throwing Peter's shirt over it and hugging it closer to his body, nuzzling his face into it. He missed him already. So damn much.

Peter didn't expect the house to be dead silent when he walked in later than night, placing his keys down on the kitchen table and looking over at the living room couch, worry and confusion taking over him. Ace wasn't usually this quiet, and Peter couldn't spot him on the couch. His head spun to the kitchen, which had remained practically untouched, save for a broken bottle of beer. Looked as if that was the Jendellian's attempt to open it. He'd have to teach him how to use a bottle opener.

"Ace..?" He started searching through the house, checking the backdoor, which luckily was still locked. The front door had been locked too before he walked inside, so Ace definitely wasn't outside.

Peter moved through the hall, peering into the doorway of his bedroom, and, to his relief, Ace was there, sleeping soundly on top of the sheets. He let out a small sigh, shaking his head a bit and walking over. He had intentions of waking the alien up, until he realized the sad little display of Ace snuggling a pillow with his favorite shirt around it. Poor guy must've really missed him. Peter ran his fingers through the long, dark strands of hair and let himself smile at the small noise Ace let out. He shook his head, walking out of the room to go clean the mess the alien left, bring his equipment inside, and eat a quick late snack.

Not even half an hour later, Peter snuck back into his room, the bed slightly dipping as he laid himself down next to Ace and pulled him closer by his waist, pressing the smallest, gentle kiss he could to the alien's temple.

"G'night, Ace."

┕━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━┙

#kiss band #peter criss #ace Frehley #the spaceman #the catman #peter/ace #kiss fanfiction #aliens #mentions of alcohol

[ikemenomegas]

There's a curse, it runs through us (3)

Omega!Izuna Uchiha x Alpha!Reader

pt 1 pt 2

cw: ongoing discussions of period typical sexism, arranged marriage, implied female alpha

Ane-san's mantle hangs heavily on your shoulders.

The situation is one that is unique, and so is the kimono that you now will wear to the ceremony. The kimono and hiyoku have been dyed from the original white, so that the traditional black of an alpha's layers show beneath the outermost layer.

The coat, which is a glorious sunset red, patterned in gold flames and black clouds and white rivers. It is what would have suited ane-san's high standing at the wedding but it feels too fine on you, stepping into the occasion. Which one of you now is the ghost for the other?

Your aunt smooths back your hair and meets your doubtful look in the beaten bronze mirror, the line of her brows soften.

"It's been in our family for generations," she says, tugging the collar of the uchikake to lay perfectly flat. "You look like a bride," she says. It is both consolation and encouragement.

The position you are going to take up in the clan will require a careful balancing act. That knowledge made your chest tighten, but in the mirror it didn't appear to show. The traditional white powder smoothed your features made your eyes appear more stark and you forced yourself to blink slowly, focusing on the flow of chakra through your body.

"Has any like me worn it before?" you can't help but ask. You feel vulnerable and young in a way that you haven't since your first year in battle as a warrior for the clan.

She smiles, and you can feel the strength in your aunt's hands when she lifts you to your feet and keeps holding on as you step carefully into the new zori just outside the door.

"Yes."

The ceremony was already notable for its unavoidable complexities. As an itinerant mercenary shinobi, and a second son, Uchiha Izuna would have traditionally made his way to your family's compound and joined your household, adding the branch family's honor to his own. However, Izuna and his brother were to be the next heads of the clan and took their orders directly from the main branch. You would travel instead with those your sister's had chosen to take with her from the household and hold land for Izuna as part of the main family lands.

The path to the temple, in what felt like a particularly futile attempt, had been picked clean of forest debris in an attempt to keep the hem of your kimono clean. You held the fabric close anyways to keep it off the ground.

Since you would be traveling to main family compound, Izuna had chanced the travel to your family's lands in return. His name would be bound to yours in the family records at the same temple that had offered the funeral rites for ane-san. This path was the same which you had taken when following her casket.

You shook those thoughts away and tried to dismiss the feeling of dread just the same. The path diverged, the place of burning separate from the place you were going. Wasn't a wedding supposed to be a joyful affair?

Your aunt took lifted the back of your coat gently with one hand, the other carefully clutching her own, so that all of your moves were carefully and silent as ghosts, making no noise even over the leaves that had fallen since the children first cleaned the path.

You reached out into the forest and sought to see forward.

Ane-san's residence still had Izuna's portraits, all fifteen years worth. Every painting the main family had ever sent was there, but you had only opened the last one. All of the others had been stacked so carefully, but the ties around them were crisp, without the wearing that frequent opening and closing might cause. You didn't know why ane-san never opened the old portraits, but you left them alone.

Perhaps it was desperation that drew your senses, searching for the original which could have inspired the artist's rendition even though you would meet him soon, even though you had no familiarity with which to identify your betrothed. You felt as though you were walking into a trap. There were too many factors that would be entirely out of your control.

Uchiha Izuna's mother was long dead and Uchiha Madara, as far as you knew, was not yet mated. They were the only two of Tajima-sama's sons still living. You would be the only alpha in the immediate main family, even if it was by marriage, and the only wife.

You would also be the first marriage into the main family in this generation, making you the first child related to the head by giri, by the obligations and responsibility of being Izuna's mate. All of this would place you immediately into the clan's upper hierarchy, but you knew your own clan well enough to know this didn't remedy your being an effective outsider.

Yours would also be the first fulfilled betrothal from Tajima-sama's five sons, even if your hand hadn't been the first one offered. Another pang of grief struck through your chest, already the most familiar wound on your body. It would do no good to regret what had already come to pass. The duty of that old oath weighed heavily upon you, it dragged behind you and was carried by one of your few remaining family at your side.

The temple was in sight when you sensed it, a well of unfamiliar power approaching from the opposite direction. It was dark and light and deeper than your own but somehow familiar. Your eyes ached in a way that was becoming familiar.

Light broke over you and the others. You crossed the threshold of the temple grounds where the forest had been cut away. The others, Izuna's escort, were a little ways ahead of yours, and you withdrew your senses, perturbed.

You came upon them soon enough, waiting. It was mostly men, battle hardened warriors. Among them you could see one other who was as alpha as you were, although much older, and scent another omega, although that presence was skillfully disbursed.

A man stood at the forefront of the group, the colors of his montsuki haori inverted just as yours were. His jacket was as white as the kimono you wore had once been, the Uchiha crest splashed in red and careful embroidery in the usual places.

None of you had concealed your presence and he turned when he heard. There was no reaction of any kind on his face. Even as an omega, you were both shinobi, and his face had also been left uncovered, with no hood or veil. His thick hair was bound into a tidy braid which fell down his back.

You felt as though you were sitting behind the eyes of a ghost.

Ane-san, forgive me.

He only bowed when you approached but you knew who it was. He looked too much like his picture to be anyone else.

A priest emerged before a word could be said, as though the bow had been the signal, and began the familiar rhythm of ceremony.

Music struck up around the courtyard - instruments and your own clans' humming. Purification, pouring cold water from a ladle for every person who would enter into the temple, including you and then Izuna.

You walked side by side, step by step. It was unnerving how his steps aligned with yours, or yours with his, until it was as though one body walked towards the altar.

You sat on polished wooden stools, side by side, while drums beat alongside your heart and the hum took on a different tone. There was the familiar feeling of seals activating, enclosing the marriage of an Uchiha heir from prying eyes.

The priest, an omega male, began a warbling song, announcing your name and Izuna's before the altar. You snuck another glance from the corner of your eye and could only thank your training for not startling when you saw him doing the same.

Three stacked cups, each shallow and each of a different size and material were place before you. The first was offered to you, and you drank it carefully. The alcohol scorched a path like katon down your throat. The cup was filled again and Izuna drank in three measured movements while you watched with the curiosity entitled to a new bride.

The second cup was glazed red as the clan crest and Izuna once again drank, the alcohol dropping smooth and clear between his lips. Once again it burned, sweet and warm, when the cup was traded back to your hands.

The third was filled with three sharp movements from the priest, the clan's dispersed sound rising around you. The liquor pooled in the dark earthenware clay cup and ignited the fire in your belly when you drank.

You caught Izuna's gaze over the lip of the last cup as you lowered it.

He watched you with quiet dark eyes, eyes liquid as ink. He was beautiful. It was not fair that you be here when elder sister was scattered ashes. A breath caught in your throat for just a second.

It was in that second that you saw the tinniest movement from your new mate, his fingers curling inward as if to form a fist. You blinked slowly, focusing inward once more to burn more quickly through the alcohol from the ceremony, feeling your chakra heat your body. It let you pretend the drop in your stomach was not a confusing amount of disappointment.

Izuna took the last dark cup in his hands and drained it without hesitation.

You could understand his apprehensions easily. They were after all the same as yours. Izuna had spent all of his life expecting one thing, only to presented with an entirely different scenario. Your name was already traded for ane-san's in the family register. The ceremony was only a requirement of tradition. By clan law, he was your spouse and you were his.

Of course it would be disconcerting to be confronted with that truth and a stranger who looked nothing like the painted portrait that had been sent to him every year.

A younger priestess handed you a folded sheet of paper and you and Izuna stood. The vows were the same you had heard at other clan weddings. Only, in order to indicate a balance in your pair, you read them with Izuna instead of alone.

Together you recited gratitude to the clan for a good match, promised harmony in your intentions, protection that your omega would not need, a devotion that he could not give you, and a kind of honor which was the only thing that the two of your had left.

The priests began circulating with wine for the guests while you and Izuna made your final offerings before the altar and the clan's humming came to a gradual end as each one drank their own mouthful of the rice liquor.

And just like that, with the last offering, it was done. Unless he killed you while the seals were still up guarding the temple, you would leave with him for the main compound in the morning.

*the described ceremony is intentionally altered from the resources I could find on traditional Shinto style Japanese weddings and is meant to be reflectively symbolic of izuna and mc. Please excuse any issues in it

#izuna x reader #uchiha izuna #izuna uchiha #mentions of alcohol #there's a curse it runs through us #part 3 #alpha!reader #a/b/o dynamics #omega!izuna #omega!character x alpha!reader #gpn #I am sorry this is so short #after so long a wait #the next part is far longer and I am still stuck but! mc finally met Izuna!