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artificial-transmutations · 16 days

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Friday Friendship

Hey there! This one is kind of a spiritual successor to Calling the Plumber - and as such, it is one of the rare gay to straight stories of mine. While I do try to keep it friendly and without any homophobia or hate, feel free not read the story if you don't like g2s!

It was hard to overlook Montgomery and Archibald. Of course, that was always the case. But here, on the dirty construction site of their new home, the expensive silk suits of the couple stood out even more than elsewhere. Yes, the two of them were together - and they made sure everybody knew it. Not only were the two gentlemen standing in a tight hug whenever possible, but their flamboyant and colorful clothing left little doubt about their sexuality.

They were those kind of gays that conservatives were afraid of. Both were old enough to have been alive during the stonewall riots, although only Montgomery was actually there as a teenager. Still, the aged couple embodied everything the gay community prided itself on having achieved during the last decades.

Their house, too, would be a statement. The mansion was the largest construction in the area, and the most expensive one. It was going to be built on a large hill, overlooking the town, and its style was... extravagant. The house was to be built in a modern architectural style, but the two men had insisted that the walls would be entirely covered in rainbow colors, although that was still in the future by now. Surrounding the mansion would be a magnificent garden, a park even.

"My dear, are you satisfied with the construction?" Archibald asked his husband in his lime green suit. Montgomery had dyed his hair in an orange-pink tone today and wore a purple tie to his green suit. It was hardly the first building site he visited, since he had made a fortune in real estate.

Archibald, on the other hand, was a bit more conservatively dressed. His suit was a more subdued shade of beige, although his tie was of a bright sky blue color. He usually didn't dye his hair, and today was no exception: He wore the gray with pride, although he spent a fortune on hair and skin care products. He, too, had a respectable job as a top manager in a logistics company.

"Well, darling, I'm not sure yet." Montgomery replied. "I want it to look great, and the work has been good so far. But frankly, it feels that the workers motivation is somewhat underwhelming."

"I think I know what you mean, my dear." Archibald commented as they walked through the empty shell. "It is barely three in the afternoon on a Friday, and there isn't anyone around anymore. The workers must be out partying already. I can't fault them for that, but it is rather annoying, isn't it?"

"Indeed. It would have been nice if they were a little less lazy, though. The garden is behind schedule, and I believe the electrics are going to be delayed by another month."

"That is quite unfortunate."

Montgomery nodded and they walked a bit in silence. It was true. There was still a lot to do, and it looked like the workers left early for the weekend.

Finally, Archibald sighed.

"I guess I could take a look at the progress the electricians are making. I do know a bit or two about this. Maybe then we can talk to the foreman about their work. It's a pity that we cannot supervise every little thing here, but our jobs demand a lot of our time. If only we had a bit more hands-on control."

"My, what a fabulous idea! I will take a stroll through the garden then, to get a better picture there."

The husbands kissed each other on the lips as they split up and Archibald opened the fuse box. He had indeed done a bit of electrical maintenance in his prime, so he knew that what he saw in the box was nothing less than a mess. He sighed and was about to close the box again, but hesitated. No, he couldn't leave the mess like that. He would just tidy things up a bit, to show those inexperienced workers how it was done.

Carefully, he began to work on the wires, but before long, he felt uncomfortable. The fuse box was located in the bright afternoon sun, and it was just positively hot here. Still, not wanting to leave his work, he slipped out of his jacket and hung it over a nearby wall. He didn't notice that the piece of clothing disappeared once he turned away, nor did he notice that his hands became nimbler as he rearranged the wires.

Montgomery on the other hand found the garden construction even less advanced than he had hoped. Even worse, someone had left a few plants out in the heat. They would surely be dead by the time the construction continued on Monday. Montgomery couldn't let that happen. This garden would be beautiful, and no plant would die under his watch.

He carefully carried the plants to the place they were supposed to be. Of course, he knew - he had planned the park all by himself, so he knew where everything was supposed to go. As he arrived at the shady place, he understood why the plants hadn't been placed yet. The ground was wet and muddy, and there weren't any holes yet. He would need to talk to the foreman about that, but the man was surely already in the weekend as well. There was, however, a shovel nearby. Now, aside from ceremonial groundbreaking, Montgomery had never held a shovel. It wasn't that he didn't understand the concept, but he was just not the type for physical labor.

Well. He looked over his shoulder to his husband, who was apparently still busy looking at the fuse box. It seems like he had some time on his hands, so he might as well. Grimacing, he grabbed the shovel and carefully stepped on the soil, trying not to ruin his expensive shoes or pants. That worked well, for about two steps. But as soon as he tried to break the ground with the shovel, a big clump of wet soil splattered on his lime green silk pants.

Montgomery frowned. Well, that suit was ruined anyway. No reason to stop there. Determined, he pulled the shirt out of his pants and opened his vest. He wasn't going to ruin his custom tailored suit for no reason.

Meanwhile, Archie was getting into his work even more. From time to time, he had to wipe his brow, though, as he was sweating like an animal. His dress shirt was stained with multiple sweat stains already and didn't really *look* like a dress shirt anymore, but more casual. The same could be said for the rest of Archie as well. A certain youth had returned to his face, as he was concentrated on his work. This way, he didn't notice when his hairstyle dissolved into an unkempt mess or when a bit of stubble grew in on his chin. His shirt clung to his body now, drenched in sweat. It had long ceased to be a dress shirt though but had become a plain - although rather filthy - beige t-shirt. His tie was nowhere to be seen.

Due to the wetness, the shirt didn't leave much to imagination regarding his body. Not just his face had rejuvenated, no, his entire body had. He was leaner and his muscles firmer now. Out of the V-neck of his sweaty shirt poked a few golden hairs, and before long, his main hair had turned into a Nordic blonde, as well.

Meanwhile, Monty was digging like crazy. He had to get those plants in the ground, or the foreman would... Wait, what was he thinking?

He stopped for a moment, to scratch his head. Thinking was not his strong point, and Monty knew that. But he had other qualities, that made up for that. When he grabbed the shovel again, to keep digging, he heard a ripping sound that made him stop again. The shoulder of his shirt had ripped. His boss was going to kill him! Although, it appeared somewhat strange to him that he was wearing such a colorful and impractical shirt. Perhaps there weren't any other shirts left?

He looked around and saw only one of the electricians still on the site. He knew the guy, he was friendly enough. He surely wouldn't mind if Monty went shirtless for a bit. With an effort not to damage the clothing even more, he peeled out of the garment. He was only half successful with that, and a few more rips sounded before he had finished taking it off.

Monty looked down at his muscular and hairy torso. The cold air was good, and he wasn't afraid to get dirty.

With every movement of the shovel, his arm muscles tightened, and his frame filled out more. A short beard sprouted on his chin, and his now full earthy brown hair shortened to a more practical cut. It wasn't like he had money for an expensive hairdresser, after all.

Finally, he had the holes ready and wiped his hands on his sturdy pair of work pants. Now, he only had to put the plants in. Despite his impressive physique, Manny was always very careful with the flowers, and he made sure that none of the roots got damaged or that he didn't break the stem.

He looked at his work. Good, that would look great, once the plants grew. Someday, he would have a garden of his own, and a house like that. And a beautiful wife and two, no, three children. But that was still a long way to go, with his poor pay.

Someone behind him cursed and Manny looked back to the electrician.

Chad was still sweating like crazy as he worked the wires. His mates had all gone to the clubs by now and he was stuck here and had to fix the mess he had created. That was only fair, but he wished the foreman wouldn't have noticed until Monday. He had to hurry up, though. He didn't want to spend his Friday night on the site, after all. Perhaps he would even get lucky and find a guy... No, what was he thinking? Working on these fruits' house had made him all confused. No, perhaps he would find a busty bombshell to take home tonight. Chad felt his cock growing hard at the thought, creating an obvious bulge in his work pants. Great, more distraction.

Chad tried to readjust himself, just in time as he sensed the big burly gardener approach. He knew the guy loosely but had forgotten his name already - if he even had known it at all.

"Hey, everything alright with them wires?" the low voice of the brute asked in a friendly tone.

"Yeah, I just need to finish up here... Should be done aaaaany minute now..."

Manny watched Chad connect the last wires. Poor guy. His t-shirt was soaked with sweat, and he looked like he was really hot and stressed out.

"Cool. It's no fun working late, and on a Friday. Hey, do you want to hit a bar after that? I could go for a cold one."

Chad looked over his shoulder at the bear of a man. Was that guy hitting on him? Na, his face only showed dumb innocence.

He shrugged. "Sure, why not, eh..."

"Name's Manny." Manny said.

"Great. Manny." Chad said and closed the now somewhat better looking fuse box before wiping away his sweat once more.

"I'm Chad."

Manny and Chad left the building site together this Friday afternoon. Neither of them knew that they were going to become best friends over this and many more beers. Manny turned out to be a great wingman for Chad, and Chad even ended up as Manny's best man during his wedding and godfather for his first child. Sometimes the closest friendships are forged in the Friday afternoon sun of a construction site.

#male transformation #muscle transformation #dumbing down #sweat #gay to straight #age reduction

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cowgurrrl · 2 months

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I Wish I Was

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: yay for creative energy coming back!!

Summary: Murphy’s Law dictates… [3.1k]

Warnings: art talk, discussions of a deceased parent, probably incorrect blueprint talk, a cliff hanger 😈

Temperatures rarely dip below the thirties in Central Texas. It's not impossible, as evidenced by the below-freezing temperatures ravaging much of the South in the final days before returning to school, but it's still rare. Nobody really knows what to do when there's the threat of the roads icing over, so they just decide to shut most things down, including your bar. You feigned disappointment when your manager called to tell you when, in reality, you were digging through your box of acrylic paints to find the one shade that's been calling your name. With the sudden free time, you get to work on your half-finished canvases and listen to the same record repeatedly in the hopes that your brain will zone out enough for you to make something good.

It could be The Mamas and The Papas record spinning or the dark blue winter light shining through your blinds, but you actually like the piece of art unfolding on your canvas. It's undeniably different, a little more vibrant and a little more abstract, but it feels good— sustainable, at the very least. You feel less self-conscious about them and even snap pictures to show them off to Andie. You've finished three other canvases and sent in images of them to a local art collective that takes gallery submissions twice a year, and they've moved you on to the next part of the acceptance process. It's not a definite yes, but it's not an immediate no. You haven't told Joel about the submission or anything, really. You've just holed yourself up in your apartment to paint and sporadically respond to his texts with lots of apologies typed with yellow or purple fingertips.

He knows you're not ignoring him, and you know he's a busy guy. He has better things to do than sit around and wait for you to text him back, but you feel bad about not being as present as you were before. "It's all part of the process, I promise," you said. "Then, when I get my own gallery, you can hear all about it while you fix up my classroom." He reminded you that "pride goeth before the fall" but didn't doubt or pressure you to break your flow. The only thing he consistently texts you about is making sure you're drinking water, stretching your wrists, and, at least, looking at a vegetable during your long sessions. Otherwise, he leaves you alone to work. Everyone else, including the stack of looming emails in your inbox, gets deliberately ignored so you can live in your bubble for just a little longer before school drags you back into session.

That's why you jumped and furrowed your eyebrows at your ringing phone when his contact photo appeared unexpectedly, breaking you out of your concentration. You wipe your hands on your old pair of too-big jeans (universally known as your work pants because they're covered in different colored hand prints) and swipe to answer him before the silly picture of him with one of your scarves on his head can go away. You hear him shuffling around when you put it on speaker and almost hang up, thinking it's a butt dial before you finally hear his voice.

"Hello?" He greets.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Did I leave my jacket there?" He asks. You let out a relieved sigh that it's nothing too dramatic, but the lingering panic his phone call caused sits in the back of your head as you glance down at said jacket. You adjust the palette in your hand, suddenly hyper-aware of the wet paint and thanking whatever God is out there for not getting any on his clothes. You can't imagine things would go over well with the guys if he suddenly showed up to job sites with pink paint on the sleeve of his jacket.

"No..." you say, extending the vowel, and he chuckles.

"Do me a favor. See if there's a ring of keys in the front pocket?" He says. You gently put the palette on your coffee table and wipe your hands again to ensure there's no wet paint on them before digging into both front pockets and feeling the keys in his left pocket. You pull them out and find the set of keys with a baseball keychain and a keychain with a picture of him and the girls on it.

"I've got 'em," you say. "The Astros? Really?"

"D'you mind bringin' 'em to the office? I forgot I needed 'em." He ignores your jab, and you look down at your outfit. Clad in your work pants, a sports bra, Joel's Carhartt jacket, and your unwashed hair in a clip, you are not prepared to leave the house today, let alone go see Joel.

"Um..."

"Somethin' wrong?" He asks, and you wince. What are you gonna say? Sorry, I know you have to do your job and all, but I look and feel like shit, so I can't bring your keys to you? He's already seen you in disarray from the school day, but that was a cuter, more socially acceptable version of disarray. This version gives credence to the messy, mentally ill artist stereotype Freud introduced however many years ago.

"No, nothing's wrong. I just..." you sigh and rub your face. "I wasn't expecting to see you today. I kinda look crazy."

"That's it?" He asks, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "Baby, I don't care how you look. You could show up in a potato sack, and I wouldn't care."

"Well, lucky for you, I don't own a potato sack, but I'm pretty sure that would look better than this."

"If it makes you feel better, the office is empty."

"Then, why are you in? It's fucking freezing."

"I needed to make sure the pipes didn't freeze over, and I left some blueprints here," he says. "I can grab 'em from you and just come back to the office."

"No, I don't want you driving more than you have to," you say, already stretching out your stiff legs. Your knees creak in protest, and fatigue seeps into your bones. God, how long have you been sitting here? "Just don't say I didn't warn you."

"I think it'll take a lot more than some messy clothes to scare me off, darlin'," he says, and you roll your eyes at his charm. With a quick goodbye, you throw on a clean enough sweater and leggings. You debate running a brush through your hair before remembering what he said about the empty office and decide you don't have the energy. If he really doesn't care what you look like, then you're not going to stress about it.

You're a little worried about driving in the weather, even you aren't immune to Southern weather panic, but the roadways are mostly clear, and things aren't expected to get really bad until later on. Still, you drive slowly and white-knuckle the wheel against strong, frigid winds. By the time you get to Joel's office, the sky is more grey than blue, and radio announcers warn you that there might be flurries within the next forty-eight hours. You doubt they'll stick to the ground and amount to nothing more than some black ice, inconveniencing everyone in the state, but still. You leave the relative warmth of your car and walk as fast as you can into the building, clutching Joel's jacket close to your body and sending a wave of his smell over you.

The office itself is small, with a couple of desks here and there, mostly for meeting with clients and explaining building plans. A coffee pot and water cooler sit in the corner next to the receptionist's desk, which is currently empty. It's eerily quiet in the space except for the sound of the heat rumbling somewhere in the walls, and you almost wonder if Joel left without telling you when you hear grumbling and the tell-tale sound of his boots against the tile. He doesn't notice you at first. Instead, he scowls at a paper like it owes him money and mutters under his breath. Whatever is annoying him is wiped away the second he sees you there.

"Hey, baby," he lights up as he walks over to you and kisses you, abandoning the paper on one of the desks so he can hold you close. He tastes like coffee and the beeswax chapstick Ellie got him for Christmas. You didn't realize how much you missed him until now, and you smile against his lips. "You got my keys?" He asks as he turns to walk into his office, grabbing your hand and bringing you with him. He lets go of you to close the door behind him, and you dig the keys out of your pocket and toss them at him. He catches them in mid-air easily and walks over to the filing cabinet.

"You intentionally leave your keys with me, or is this just a happy accident?" You ask, and he smirks.

"Maybe I just wanted to see you again."

"Sneaky," you say as you walk around his space while he searches for the correct blueprint.

It's a relatively normal office with eggshell walls and bad fluorescent lighting, but once you step behind his desk, you get a good idea of the man who works here. His desk is old and made of some type of wood he probably knows more about than you do. It's filled with little knick-knacks and things that get him through the day: family pictures, a painted gecko from Terlingua, stress balls, and a desk calendar with his all-caps handwriting. There are even some drawings done by Ellie pinned on the corkboard behind his chair, her skill visibly improving as she gets older.

One particular picture on his desk catches your eye. It's older than the rest, and it takes you a minute to recognize Joel's eyes in the greying man. Joel, Tommy, and their dad smile at the camera with identical grins. Tommy can't be older than ten while Joel towers over them both, his broad shoulders taking up lots of space. You pick it up to look at it closer and Joel doesn't stop you. Instead, he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"'S this your dad?" you ask, and he nods. "You guys look a lot alike."

"You think?" He asks like he doesn't see it, and you look at him. You take a second or two to let your eyes trace his features and compare them to his dad's before nodding.

"Yeah. Same eyes," you say as you look back down. "And smile." He hums happily at that. Joel's face hasn't changed much now that he's a grown man. If anything, he looks more like his dad, with the grey at the temples and the beard framing his face. You see bits of their father in Tommy, too, but you assume he probably looks more like their mother. "How old were you in this?"

"Mm, fifteen? Maybe sixteen." Right before his dad died, you think. You wonder if he's thinking the same thing or reliving the day over again. Before the clutches of grief can sink you both, you smile to yourself and hold the picture a little closer.

"I would've been obsessed with you if we'd gone to high school together."

"Really?" He asks incredulously, and you giggle at the thought.

"Oh, for sure. Look at you!" You point to his little broody half-smile as if it's evidence. "Those eyes, that hair, the attitude. I mean, c'mon, Joel!" He laughs at your praise and takes the photo out of your hands.

"Alright, alright, that's enough objectification for teenage Joel."

"I'm not objectifying you! I'm just stating the obvious."

"Mhm," he hums, and you laugh. You continue walking around and looking at his things as he frowns at the blueprint he trekked through the cold to get. "Shit." He mumbles, reaches for a pencil, and scribbles something on the plans.

"What's wrong?" You ask, perching yourself on the edge of his desk and leaning over to look at the intricate design. It looks like a big house with lots of elaborate details written on the margins. It's a big build. No wonder he needed to get this copy.

"This client decided they wanted a bigger kitchen, but I don't know how to do that without eatin' into another room and changin' the whole plan," he sighs. "We're supposed to be back on the site once this storm blows over, and I gotta have an idea of how we're gonna do this by then."

"Can't you just tell them no?" You ask, and he chuckles.

"Can’t you just tell your principal no?

"Point taken," you say. "What about pushing it into the backyard a little? Then you could use this area over here to make a sunroom or something," you suggest, gesturing to the weird leftover space that would make the house look wonky. His eyebrows knit together as he thinks.

"Then what should I do here?" He asks. Together, you go back and forth, discussing dimensions, perspectives, and measurements. You never realized how similar these designs are to art. They have to have more of a purpose and fit specific parameters, but other than that, they have the same idea: create something out of nothing. It's cool to see Joel in his own element, doing mental math and estimates that would take you ages to do and writing down his findings as you figure them out together. He's not just good at math, he's good at sketching the new designs.

Almost seamlessly, he flips through the floor plans and layouts, adding a window there or changing the flow of a room with a singular erasure. He adds the perfect depth to see the idea clearly without crowding the space and making it seem too busy, allowing the clients to picture their furniture in the home. When you bring up an idea, he's quick to rotate the plans upside down to imagine how it would look and if it would impact the building process, his brain running through every possible solution and flipping it without even thinking. Ellie does the same thing when she gets stuck on a drawing. You see where she gets her skill from, even if he'll never admit it.

For someone who has always struggled with math, you enjoy the balance between math, engineering, and art in the plans, but you like working with Joel the most. It's nice to feel like you're helping instead of distracting him. You're not sure how long you worked together, reconfiguring things this way and that, before you finally reached a viable solution, but you know that Joel has the biggest smile on his face when he looks away from the blueprints.

"You mighta missed a callin', my dear." He says, and you laugh, shaking your head.

"My college algebra professor might disagree, but I do think this is interesting."

"Well, if you ever want a job..." he trails off as he rolls the blueprints back up and secures it with a rubber band. You smirk and tug at his belt loops to bring him closer to where you're sitting on his desk.

"You just want me to get more tattoos." You accuse, and he chuckles as he tosses the prints somewhere behind you, his hands coming up to frame your face.

"I'm just sayin', Miller Contracting don't have a policy against it like the school district does."

"Mm, what about dating? That might get a little dicey."

"Is sleepin' with your boss better or worse than sleepin' with a student's parent?" He asks, and you laugh.

"They're probably in the same realm of bad."

"Then, we've got nothin' to lose." He says as he leans down to kiss you. You open your legs just enough for him to step in between your knees and get as close as he can. He's trimmed his beard since the last time you saw him, but the stubble still scratches deliciously against your skin, making you sigh. He breaks away enough to tip you back onto his desk, narrowly missing his clutter, and you giggle when he kisses your neck.

"How long have you been plannin' this one?" you ask, your years in Texas showing through in your breathless voice. He smiles as he meets your eyes.

"I dunno what you're talkin' bout."

"Oh, so getting me alone and on top of your desk was just a coincidence?"

"Happy accident." He muses, sliding his hands up your shirt as he gets lower and lower. Your hands play with his hair, occasionally tugging on the strands just to hear the sound he makes. You would've been happy to do that all day if your phone ringing through the suddenly too-warm air of his office didn't interrupt. Joel groans and drops his head to your sternum, his hands pausing their journey up your body as you wiggle your phone out of your back pocket. Your heart drops the second you recognize the phone number.

"Who is it?" Joel asks like he's reading your mind. You sit up slowly, and he takes his hands off you without malice or frustration. You're stuck staring at the number until it disappears off your screen and goes to voicemail.

"Um... someone from work. I should probably call them back." You say, unsure of yourself as the words fall from your mouth. Joel looks confused but doesn't push.

"Oh. Right, yeah. School starts back up on Monday, right?"

"Yeah, she probably just wants to talk about lesson plans or something," you say, standing from your spot on the desk. The air has changed between you, and suddenly, things feel clunky and awkward. This is the worst possible timing. "Can I call you later?"

"Yeah, of course. I'll walk you out." He says sheepishly. You don't say anything as he opens the doors for you and gives you a quick kiss and a reminder to text him when you get home. You just nod and immediately speed walk to your car even though you're not that cold. Joel watches you pull out from your parking spot and leave the strip mall, waving before you can turn out of sight.

You wait until you're five minutes down the road before you dial the number back as if Joel would be able to hear the crackly voice through your speaker if you were any closer. Your heart beats fast in your chest, and your palms are sweaty on the wheel as the phone rings. When the dial tone finally ends, and your call is answered, the anxiety is replaced with frustration.

"What’s up?" You ask through gritted teeth, and you hear her take a breath.

"We need to talk about Ellie’s dad."

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ofoceansandtombsanew · 2 months

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Your Love, Like Birth and Death

cw. jjk faerie au, banshee!reader (she/her pronouns, afab), seelie prince!gojou, mutual pining but gojou's love is heavier, descriptions of blood and injuries

pairing. gojou x reader

notes. i should be working on the unseelie lord toji fic but this concept is still wracking my brain so y'all are getting this right now instead. lovesick faerie prince gojou for you, you and you! (also, spot the furuba and mirai nikki references lol.)

This Court is dyed in the colors of Life, you note this particular morning.

Of course, this is something you’ve noted every morning since you’d been brought to this palace nearly a month ago. Yet you aren’t tired of noting it.

The Court you have found yourself in is beautiful. From the ledge you lean against, it almost feels like you can see everything in Faerie.

You see the royal gardens, a mass of long grasses and moss dotted by colorful wild blooms. Overgrown and yet each flower seems right where it is supposed to be.

Beyond the walls of the castle, you see stretches and stretches of blue spruces and just beyond that a lake that almost seems purple. If this were a palace in Unseelie territory, you might have thought a kelpie lived in it.

Across the courtyard, souls living and deceased move as if in a dance. The living with their duties for the day, unaware of their ghoulish companions drifting about. Some have the ever permanent dribble of poisoned wines falling from their lips, others' have blood seeping into their clothes from their torsos and others are missing limbs although they find no difficult in moving.

The sight of death faeries is one that gruesome. A mixture of life and death, the path you folk walk on until you return to nothing.

Neat yet unkempt, wild yet tame, expected yet unexpected ー that is the beauty of Faerie you’ve grown accustomed to in the centuries since your creation.

A beauty you rarely have the opportunity to appreciate when you often find yourself in the realm of humans, heralding death.

You wonder how much time has passed there since you’ve come to the Court of Reckoning. All while the skies have lost the traces of violet, peach and marigold that painted the dawn skies and have begun settling into a lovely shade of pastel blue.

“I see I’ve finally found you,” when you look over your shoulder, it’s one of the prince’s advisors that greets you. The one with the long raven-black hair and brown eyes that remind you of humus-rich soil. You see the makings of a black tail with a tuft of fur peeking from his cloak and believe him to be some sort of phouka. “I almost thought for a moment our honored guest had disappeared,” his voice is light and airy, but he seems relieved to an extent. “I’m glad my concerns were proven untrue. Satoru would be quite unmanageable if that were the case.”

You shake your head, smiling politely, “I enjoy watching dawn turn into morning.” You look at the large bouquet in the phouka’s hands ー an assortment of lavender roses, baby’s breath and ferns.

“Our prince is too busy to deliver these himself this morning,” Suguru explains once they’ve caught your eye. You make sure to not let your fingers brush against one another when you reach for the blooms carefully. “Love at first sight, purity and fascination it is supposed to symbolize,” the advisor recounts the meaning of each bloom dutifully. He’s exasperated, you can tell. “Do you like them?”

“Yes, they’re quite lovely,” you believe so truly. Everyday since your arrival to the palace, the prince has had bouquet after bouquet gifted to you. Even if he cannot deliver them himself. “As were the rest I’ve received.”

“I’ve never seen Satoru so smitten,” you avoid the phouka’s gaze. “You should have met him when we were younger. He was adamant that he’d never be besotted with anyone lest he become a fool.” There’s a light pause as Suguru recalls the evening Satoru brought you to this palace. You who are cloaked in death and all of her colors. “Look at him now. He’s certainly caused a stir in his insistence you’ll be his queen. He’s a charming fool, though, I am sure.”

You prefer to think of the prince as a ridiculous fool but you cannot deny that he is charming. Dangerously so. If you hadn’t known better, you would have thought him to be a gancanagh, a love-talker.

“Please marry me,” came the soft request as sky blue eyes stared into your very being. “And I’ll love you more faithfully than any man, fae or otherwise.”

You try not to remember the way your chest clenched in surprise. How you were so surprised it almost felt like your skin had warmed. It’s best not to focus on that memory at all.

It’s a ridiculous notion, a seelie prince in love with a banshee.

“The prince is simply confusing gratitude with love,” you return Suguru’s gaze with a polite smile. You hope he believes you. “He’ll realize that soon and I will leave this place.” You know that will bring palace staff a great sense of peace. If there is one thing you’ve learned in your long life as a banshee it is that even if the Folk spurn mortals and their blink-of-an-eye lifespans, there are many things faeries and humans have in common.

A fear of death is certainly one of them.

As such, to the vast majority of faeriekind, Death Folk like yourself are not looked upon favorably. Banshee and dullahans alike, you’re more like pests in their eyes.

You banshee women who scream and keen if death is near.

The dullahans who hear those screams and arrive when that final hour has approached.

Yes, you know how death fae are viewed. You’ve heard the whispers in the palace, how you are an omen of malevolence to come. That your kind are like roaches. Should one appear, others will soon follow suit.

This is why you’ve come to appreciate this private ledge on the castle walls that receives less foot traffic than the rest. You’d rather the staff of the palace have peace of mind in your absence while you live in the palace even if their prince insists you can venture the halls as much as you’d like.

Once the promised revel he hopes to throw in your honor comes to pass, you know the prince will lose his interest in you. Then you will leave and continue about your existence until you fade into nothing but a vague memory in his subconscious.

That's what you truly hope when you see the prince in question later on in the day for lunch in the garden.

How his eyes light up and he stands to his feet as Cypress, a lovely pixie tasked with being your attendant, announces your arrival. How he doesn't even wait for you to reach the table before he comes to meet you. You are unused to being treated like royalty and yet their prince insists that you are. "You won't believe how the old hags go on and on," he sighs, remnants of annoyance dancing in his tone but his voice is soft with you. Cypress takes the dismissal in stride. "I couldn't even come see you for breakfast. Did you like the flowers?"

He wraps your hands in his own large palms, seemingly unaffected by your corpse-cold skin, as he has done every time you've met since your arrival. "Yes, they were beautiful," your smile is small and doesn't quite reach your eyes. You hope this ridiculous yet charming fool realizes that loving one such as yourself is more trouble than good. That his love truly is just misplaced gratitude. "You really don't have to send me flowers every morning."

The prince disregards your words the way water rolls off the back of a duck, "next time I'll bring you the flowers myself." He guides you to the table filled to the brim with food you aren't accustomed to eating. "Will you tell me your favorites finally? I've been going out on a limb with my guesses."

"My tastes in flowers are unique, to say the least," maybe it's your nature, but your favorites tend to circle around the prevailing theme of your kind. Lavender to give the dead peace in passing on, calendula for blessing and love. Dandelions in the seed head stage were quite popular with ghost children, still finding them just as amusing as they did when they were alive. "The flowers you send me are more than enough." The prince pouts but he decides to let you skirt around his request once more. You bring focus back to the spread, "it looks like you've demanded everything in the kitchen."

There are strawberry-and-whipped cream filled pastries, cold cut platters and buttery biscuits to name a few things. The tip of the iceberg of everything on the table.

"I wanted to make sure our bases were covered," the prince grins, teeth as white as his hair. "I hope you like lavender chamomile, that's today's tea. I've never had it before." He drops cube after cube of sugar into his cup, drizzles the contents with honey before finally pouring in a splash of cream.

You take your tea plain and enjoy the gentle fragrance. Lavender buds are just barely visible below the tea's surface. You close your eyes as the flavor hits your tongue. It tastes as wonderful as it smells. "Yes, this is quite nice. I really like it."

"Should we have it for tomorrow as well?" He's too eager to curry your favor.

You open your eyes to dissuade him but your attention is instead drawn to a headless hob nearing your table. You've seen this hob before, skirting about the palace bitterly as he carries his head in his hands much like a dullahan. He's old, even by fae standards, with a long beard. There's no question as to how the man died, beheading. You hope it was quick.

His beady eyes glare at you with a quiet rage similar to how most fae spirits do. You wonder how long he has been like this, refusing to board the carriage of any dullahan that may come to collect him and bring him to the Otherworld.

You personally believe that faeries leave behind ghosts more than humans do.

It's why you've often seen ghosts from a distance at revels, dancing from dawn til dusk even if they will not be perceived by the living. Even if they can no longer don the fancy dresswear they were able to dress in.

Time and time again, they will do this. Staunchly refusing death even after they're already in its hold.

"Oh, is there a ghost with us?" The prince notes how your eyes dart between him and the space he perceives as empty. "What's it saying?"

"Tell this lout that I sooner hope his rule is contemptuous and brings the Court to ruin!" The hob's head seethes. "That his many days are fraught with danger! Gakuganji is my name and this is the curse I cast upon him!"

Folk can't lie, but you you prefer not to relay the bitter message. "He hopes your rule is one that is," you lick your lips and raise your cup to your lips. "Filled with exciting thrills," not an exact lie. Perhaps to this radical prince, those sorts of threats are exciting. "He says his name is Gakuganji."

"Exciting thrills, you say?" The prince barks in amusement, shoulders shaking with his laughter. "That doesn't sound like the traitorous scoundrel I know. You don't have to lie, he's probably cursing me and my bloodline for generations to come as we speak." The hob growls at the lackadaisical nonchalance of the elf. But it seems he has had his fill as he stomps off before he can hear more insult to his person.

"Gakuganji has lost his touch even in death," the prince's amused chuckles turn into light sighs "You wouldn't have liked him very much when he was alive," you're sure you can agree with that much of the prince's words. Gakuganji, as you now know him, has been one of the more unpleasant spirits in the palace. "He was very stuck in his ways. What's it like, seeing ghosts all the time?"

Normal?

You can't quite remember what it was like when you were a newly-made banshee and everything was new. Nor can you remember the life you once led as a human. You simply remember your death was a terrible, terrible thing. "It's as normal to me as it's normal for you not to see them," you set your cup down. "If someone asked you what's it like to see the blue sky everyday, it would be a strange question, correct?"

The prince takes in your words thoughtfully, not slighted in the least. "I guess that's true," he nods to himself. "I just wondered if it was something that took some getting used to." The prince removes his darkened spectacles from the bridge of his nose. "I told you before I have pretty good eyes. I'm able to perceive a lot of things no one else can from mana to the shape of one's soul. But the spirits of the deceased are exceptions to my eyes, it seems."

"Your Highness," you begin.

"Satoru," the prince corrects you swiftly.

"Your Highness," you insist. This boundary you won't cross for yourself. "I'm not sure it's really wise for you to tell me about your eyes. I'm not a member of this family or your closest allies."

"But you will be," he tells you as if he's simply remarking on how pleasant the weather is. "I will become king of this Court and you'll be by my side as my queen." You're quite sure that if his mother, the High Queen, has anything to say about it, she'd sooner relinquish her throne to a random nixie than allow a banshee to wed her son. "I trust you as much as I trust Suguru or Nanami."

You wish he wouldn't.

A Seelie prince and his banshee queen? That sounds like the start to a ballad meant to insult him.

It's misplaced gratitude, not love. That's what this prince feels for you. You tell him as such once again as you have everyday since you were brought here. "You'll realize that soon, maybe even before the revel you plan for me," you whisper ー no, you pray. "There will be another you yearn for and you'll realize the difference."

The prince will fall deeply, truly, unapologetically in love with someone and he'll discover the truth.

Perhaps it will be a lake maiden of Spring whose dreadlocks drip with water droplets that fall onto dewy cinnamon-brown skin. Who sings of the beautiful red and pink of the roses and of love.

Or maybe it will be a selkie man who doesn't mind living far from the sea as he's brought a love as deep as the ocean along with him. Whose coat is donned in scars and scratches from battles past, a reflection of his form as a seal.

Or maybe he can grow enraptured with his phouka advisor whom he trusts more than anyone in this life.

Someone dyed in Life's colors.

Someone beautiful.

When that time comes, you'll be happy for him. Maybe then the ache that resonates through your heart and bones will end.

The prince isn't the only fool here, you admit reluctantly. You're just as much, if not more so. But this feeling will come to pass, "this is just gratitude. Fascination. Not love."

"You think I don't love you?" The prince asks quietly, resting his chin on his palm as he looks at you. He says he has good eyes, he wonder what you look like to him through them. You who once was dyed in Life's colors but have since become painted over by Death's brush.

Death folk with death folk.

Life folk with life folk.

"I know you don't," he can't. You can't allow either of yourselves to do so. "A banshee by your side as queen," you want it sound ridiculous to both of your ears. "It's absurd."

There are no rules that state your union is forbidden, this you know. But the laws of nature are simple. Life and Death co-exist separately, unable to exist without one another. But there has never been a tale where the two joined together as one.

Maybe you're just too scared to be the first.

"I want the woman that I love by my side as queen," the prince replies smoothly. "Your species is of little importance to me. All that matters is that my love is returned in full. Please, allow me to be yours," he reaches for your hand once more, stepping out of his chair in favor of sitting on bended knee. "More than anyone has or ever will, I love you. This is an unwavering truth."

The blood of the love-talker must run through his veins. Why else do you feel like this? Your desire for this prince will eat away at you until you become undone and return to nothing. "You're a prince. It's the duty of the royal family to provide heirs," even the smallest sprite knows this to be fact. "Are you asking me to stay with you and have them?"

"Please have my children," azure stares seriously into your pale eyes that were once [color] when you were human.

Your skin feels warm at his unabashed request.

Gojou Satoru has no shame, that you have become sure of in the near month of knowing one another.

He had no shame when he asked you to be his bride when you first met.

There was no shame to be found when he insisted that you stay in the palace as an honored guest he owes his life to.

Nor is there any shame to be found in him now when he cups your cheek in his furnace hot hands to guide your lips down to his, long white lashes fluttering shut.

I shouldn't, your mind screeches at you. I shouldn't allow us to get even one millimeter closer. Yet you make no move to do so as your lips are just barely touching whenー

"Your Highness, your mother is requesting you," Nanami's mild-mannered drawl saves you at the last minute.

You jerk back into your chair in relief, heart pounding. You aren't able to make eye contact with anyone, least of all the overworked horned elf-kobold hybrid brought to receive the Gojou heir.

The prince clicks his tongue in annoyance, glaring over his shoulder at the advisor, "she can't wait? We haven't even begun eating yet."

Nanami looks just as annoyed to be there, "the faster you heed her call, the quicker you can go back to fawning after the object of your desires." He tells his prince. "And the faster I can get back to resting."

The prince with snow-white hair clicks his tongue once more, but he doesn't argue against it. He turns to you regretfully, "I'll have to leave again. Perhaps we'll have more time together at dinner," you hope the wait for dinner is longer still. You know the prince hopes the time passes as quickly as he can blink.

Warm lips press against the back of your hand, lingering for five seconds longer than they should.

The bones of your hands ache.

Extra:

Title comes from a Nizar Qabbani poem: [Your love / Oh you with fathomless eyes / Is extreme /mystic / holy / Your love, like birth and death / is impossible to repeat]

My favorite bit in this is having the reader refused to call Gojou by name even in the narrative dialogue, in a futile attempt to keep distance between you both. I hope you guys found that riveting as well

Part 2? Should there be one? Perhaps there should be... y'all let me know

#look she's writing #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk faerie au #gojou x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #faeries #gojo satoru x you #gojou satoru x you #fair folk #mythology #i had a lot of fun writing this

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keegansgf · 1 year

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"pink is nice"

pairing: Valeria Garza x fem reader

synopsis: some domestic fluff backstory on Valeria's pink nails.

word count: 1.3k

tags: domestic bliss, fluff, silly wlw brainrot

A/N: Have you ever noticed Valeria has pink nails?? I have so many headcanons about her because she's just my little silly goose. Yes, she's 100% an artist and yes she has awful seasonal depression. I also think the y/n I've made for her is a beautician who does her hair and nails. Hashtag Valeria apologist lifestyle.

"Sorry that I don't have any more colors! I thought shades of pink, yellow, green, and blue would be cute for spring." You said while Valeria looked at your relatively empty nail polish organizer. "You could go with your usual picks too."

Her brows furrowed, eyes squinted, and she stood with arms crossed, deep in thought. Never have you seen someone so decisive with nail polish– it's cute, though! The people around Valeria could never see her in such a normal state– thank god you were able to witness this. You spaced out and stared at the organizer until she snapped you out of your trance.

"Pink is nice. I think I'll go with that." She kissed your cheek and handed you the nail polish, base coat, and top coat bottles. You fixed the throw pillows on your shared bed for extra cushion, one for you and one for her. She sat beside you in her spot, putting the polish next to you and handing you a nail file.

"You think you can shape them down? I think they're a little overgrown for work." She laughed while pushing her stray hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear.

"In your terms, they are. I hate filing them down, though... you have such pretty nail beds."

"I wouldn't be able to do my job properly with anything longer, but thank you for the compliment, amor. Sweet as always."

You jokingly groan at her response, continuing to file down her right hand. You both sat in a comfortable quietness, the occasional dog barking or car driving by being the only interruptions. Valeria darted her eyes around the room before circling her sight back to you, the floor, then to her hands. By now, you were working on her base coat. Her focus returned to you when you broke the silence.

"When we first met, I saw you as a purple gal. It's a very royal color historically– it fits you." You said, observing the bottle of hot pink nail polish beside you.

"Really?"

"Mhm. You usually don't pick bright colors, so it surprised me when you chose this. What's the switch up today?" Valeria bit the inside of her lip and looked to the side, trying to come up with an answer. If she had to be honest, it was just a pretty color– one of her favorites, too. She does understand where you're coming from, though. Her nails usually match her everyday closet, which are neutrals and some hints of blue from her jeans, so she opts for either black or shades of nude. They're colors that don't stand out too much but still make her feel pretty wearing them.

"I felt a little special. Spring is here, so it feels less dead, unlike winter. Plus, our anniversary is coming up! I'm in a good mood," She used her free hand to pet your head, not wanting to mess you up by shifting to kiss you. "I think a bright color fits how I feel right now."

You smiled at her genuine happiness. It was rare for Valeria to come home without stress, walking in carrying her anger from a mistake her employees made or a mistake she made herself. Whenever that happens to be the case (which again, is frequent), she isolates herself immediately. Despite her line of work taking a fair amount of collaboration, she works by herself most of the time. That left a lot of speculation about what 'El Sin Nombre' was truly like, and not who Valeria Garza was under her work mindset. It amazes you that you were able to get to know her with how distant she was with the people around her. You're surprised she even wanted to date you– let alone marry you.

"As long as you're happy, I'm happy, love. Speaking of our anniversary, what do you wanna do?"

"Well... I think we could both benefit from going outside. How does dinner sound? We can still cook breakfast and lunch ourselves. I know you like spending our mornings together." She giggles.

"You know me so well." You laughed, finishing the base coat, and started with the main event; the hot pink nail polish chosen by your wife.

"It really is a nice color. It makes me forget the seasonal depression we both got out of." She said, examining the sheer first layer. She was right about the seasonal depression. You both get tired during December, then exhausted trying to start the new year correctly in January and February. It starts getting better in early March when you're finally caught up with life, and the pace quickens to prepare for spring.

"Now you have me wanting to use pink too. I might go with a lighter shade so we can still match."

After about three coats, you were finishing off Valeria's nails with a glossy top coat. She looked at her other hand which was drying to admire your work.

"Good job as always, amor! When can I not trust you with my nails? Thank you."

"It's nothing! Plus, it's been a while since you've taken some time for yourself." Valeria clicked her tongue and sighed, knowing what you were referring to.

"I know, I know. I missed being home, too." The only con to being married to her; she's rarely able to be home, especially nowadays with her bigger plans. As much as you appreciate the precious texts and phone calls while she's hours away from home, dealing with something work-related, it's hard to cope with life going on without her home. Your co-workers always see you mope around whenever Valeria is long-distance, and she's more serious than usual while operating away from home. You completed each other so perfectly– it was like tearing the sun and moon apart when you weren't together.

Every conversation you and Valeria had brought you closer; it was the reason you both took interest in each other from the start. One of the more hidden interests she had was art. She isn't into doing her own art– at least not often, but she could talk about how it impacts her for hours. You remember you were on a walk with her while admiring the street art of Las Almas after coming home.

"What made you start liking street art so much? You talk about it so passionately."

"Las Almas wouldn't be itself without the street art. I think it shows the community and the will of the people. I like it for that."

"Do you have a favorite piece?"

"Hmm... I don't think I could pick one if I tried. You're always my favorite work of art, though."

It makes you glad that she sometimes treats her trips as art tours, sending you murals in a new town she arrived in. Sometimes you think in another reality, Valeria pursued art and wouldn't be as stressed and overworked as she is now. But as long as she's happy with her life, all is fine.

"Alright, they're dry- ah!" You got pulled into a hug while Valeria laid back on the bed, bringing you down with her. She peppered your face with kisses before deeply kissing your lips and burying her face in your neck.

"Thank you again. I love you." She said, sighing into you. You were on your sides facing each other while her arms were on your waist.

"I love you too. You're welcome, by the way." You giggled, wrapping your arms around her, enjoying her loving embrace. You stayed just like that for a minute, savoring the warmth before Valeria spoke again.

"Do you want to get snacks and watch a movie together? I call it an early anniversary celebration." She said while getting up on her elbows and giving you a wink. "I may have been able to work a little extra last month to be around you more."

"Of course, I want to." She got off your shared bed, helping you up to go pick movie snacks with her.

"Alright, let's go. This week will be just for us, I promise."

#valeria garza #valeria mw2 #valeria x reader #valeria garza x reader #cod #cod mw22 #domestic bliss #domestic fluff #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2

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megalony · 9 months

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Painless- Part 3

Here is the newest part of my Henry Cavill series, any feedback would be lovely I hope you all like it. There is a lot of fluff ahead.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn @noonenuts @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps @justagirlthatlovedtoread

Series Taglist: @angelcavill66 @coldmooninthedark @fanfictionaddiction99 @bloodyinspiredfuck @kingliam2019

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Summary: Henry and (Y/n) have their hands full looking after their kids, especially Toby who has a rare genetic condition where he can't feel or process pain.

Enjoy.

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(Y/n) pushed her sunglasses up onto the top of her head as she slowly walked through the reception doors and approached the desk on her left. She couldn't count the times she had walked through these doors over the years, sometimes because Toby had a fever, other times because they suspected he had broken something. A lot of the time it was when he had a fall and the school just weren't sure what to do with him when he could have no physical symptoms so there was a fifty fifty chance he was either fine or injured.

All of those times (Y/n) had walked in here for Toby specifically, this time she was here for Levi. That was something that didn't happen very often.

"Hi, I'm here for Levi Cavill." (Y/n) could feel something swirling in her stomach when she realised it was Rachel behind the desk today. From her many visits, (Y/n) had gotten to know the staff and the teachers very well, and Rachel wasn't the nicest receptionist here.

She was snotty and crude unless it was Henry who came in to collect the boys, then she was all sugar and roses and no attitude.

"Yes, he's just waiting through here."

Hiking her bag higher up on her shoulder, (Y/n) managed a tight-lipped smile and followed the older woman down the corridor on the right and over to a small office. The smile on her face morphed into a look of surprise when (Y/n)'s sight set on both the twins, not just one. Toby was waiting for her too.

"Hey boys, how we doing?" (Y/n) let her bag slide down to the floor before she knelt down in front of the pair of them.

The room they had been placed in was relatively small, much like a cleaning cupboard with a tiny desk squashed up beneath the window at the far end and two chairs against the wall on the left. Levi was sat with his head on his knees, groaning quietly while Toby was perched next to him with an arm around his shoulders.

For all their differences, the twins were close. They were identical in their features, their lean figures and tall height they inherited from Henry and his brothers. But Levi had his brown curls trimmed short whereas Toby liked to grow them longer, like Henry. And Toby had a lot of little white scars around his lips, in the corners of his eyes and littering his arms and hands from unintentionally biting and scratching himself as a toddler.

"Levi, baby, you okay?" (Y/n) smoothed her hands up and down his sides, trying to coax him to sit up and look at her and when he did, she took a sharp breath.

His nose was turning a dark shade of rouge and purple and there was dried blood smeared down his lips and chin and a wad of tissues crumpled up on his lap that looked more like a red hankie than white tissue paper.

Nobody said he'd had a nose bleed, if they did (Y/n) would have told them to sit with him and get him a cold compress because when Levi had a nosebleed, it could last for a while. All she got told was he'd had a fall and banged his head and they thought it was best if he went home early.

"You didn't mention the nosebleed," Her hands stayed on his sides but she didn't like the look she received when she turned her head to see Rachel.

"Does it matter?"

(Y/n) shook her head and took a deep breath before she looked back at her boys to see Toby smiling gently at her and Levi jotting his eyes from side to side like he was seeing spots.

"Do you feel alright, baby?"

"Yeah, I can see now and my head isn't splitting anymore."

"What did you do?"

"He tripped on someone's bag and smacked his head into the table, he blacked out for a few seconds then had the nosebleed." Toby started to swing his legs back and forth on the chair but he felt like shrinking when he watched his mum's eyes widen and her expression turned to stone. He could see her shaking with anger and her lips curl up with venom before she got up and when she stood in front of them, it made Toby feel like she was a warrior protecting them from a threat.

"I wasn't told he'd blacked out as well. The next time you call me regarding my kids, I expect the full story and to be fully informed or me and my husband will be down here having a meeting with your principal. I'm taking my boys home now."

She knew it had to be a bad fall for the school to suggest Levi go home early, they only did that regarding Toby because they didn't want to be liable for him becoming ill after a fall. But (Y/n) needed to know the full story, what if she couldn't come down soon enough and Levi passed out while he was waiting for her and Henry? What if the school hadn't decided to call her and he got worse? (Y/n) had a right to know what happened to her children.

She hooked her bag onto her shoulder before she wrapped her arms around Levi and helped him up, relieved when he seemed steady on his feet and he had a bit more colour to his cheeks now.

"Come on."

Both her hands rested on either twin's back and with a stern look, (Y/n) guided them out of the room and past reception. There was no way (Y/n) was letting Toby go back to class for another hour. She wasn't going back home to come back and pick him up in less than an hour, it wasn't worth it and it wouldn't be fair to make him stay when Levi was going home early.

Levi grinned and leaned his head on his mum's shoulder when he heard her mumble 'stupid woman' under her breath.

"Go mum, that was great."

"Are you sure you feel alright? I have a surprise for both of you, but only if you feel up to it." (Y/n) looped her arms around their shoulders and reeled them both into her sides.

"I'm okay, nosebleed stopped, just got a headache. What's the surprise?" Levi sniffed and swiped the back of his hand beneath his nose, but his eyes were full of intrigue as he stared up at (Y/n). Neither twin could imagine what kind of surprise she had in mind. It wasn't a special day, it was Friday, sure, but it wasn't anyone's birthday or a family holiday or a trip.

Usually a surprise was going out to see their grandparents or aunts and uncles or going out for a family meal. Sometimes they had the big surprises, but (Y/n) always kept those a tight-lipped secret. Like when their dad was filming away and they got a surprise trip to go visit him, none of them knew until (Y/n) packed their bags and said they were leaving right then and there. That had been a great surprise.

"It's dad! He's in the car!" Toby clapped his hands when he saw (Y/n)'s car up ahead and immediately noticed the unmistakeable figure sitting in the passenger seat. Henry was home, he had been gone for the past three days doing a mixture of training and small shoots, they weren't expecting him home until Sunday night.

"Well, your dad's just a bonus, you'll find out the real surprise soon."

Both twins ran ahead of (Y/n) to reach the car and they wasted no time in ripping open the front door to see Henry. It was a small struggle for both of them to squeeze through and clamber part-way inside so they could launch themselves onto Henry and hug him.

"Hey! Did you miss me?" Henry coiled an arm around each of them, trying not to wheeze when Levi laid half over his lap to hug him and Toby leaned on his chest with his arms around his neck. He kissed the top of their heads when a round of 'yes!' and 'of course' got muttered into his skin like prayers.

"I had a nosebleed," Levi tilted his head up enough for Henry to move his hand and cup his chin, narrowing his eyes with a frown when he saw the streaked blood on his face and his battered nose that was certainly going to swell up soon.

"Jesus, Levi, what did you do? You're gonna have a black eye you know." Henry busied himself finding the pack of wipes in the glove box and cleaned the blood away. They couldn't go out with him looking like someone had boxed him in the face.

"Fell into the table, Mr James made everyone wait outside when he thought I passed out." As horrid as he felt at the time and how awful it had been when his vision went black and his head started to spin, it had been a whirlwind. He heard everyone get evacuated out into the hallway- everyone except Toby, and Mr James had tried to sit him up and nearly choked when Levi started to speak and his vision came back to him. He almost thought an ambulance might be coming to assess him.

"The receptionist didn't tell me that," (Y/n) muttered quietly when she climbed into the driver's seat and leaned across to kiss Henry's cheek.

"Mum was great, she told her off."

"I'll bet she did," Henry quipped a smirk and glanced across at his wife before he looked back at the boys. "Right, come on get in so we can go." He patted them on the back and nudged them carefully so they could climb out and he could shut the door.

They had already picked Birdie up from nursery on the way down so they could go straight to the surprise. Levi climbed into the middle and wedged himself next to Birdie's car seat before Toby climbed in next to him and they buckled in.

"Where are we going?"

"I told you, it's a surprise, you'll have to wait and see."

"Where are we?" Both boys spoke in union as they climbed out the car and waited patiently for Henry to unbuckle Birdie and hold her in his arms. He knew she was tired and it didn't seem worth it to try and put the strap backpack on her just to walk across the car park and head inside when he could just carry her.

"You'll see when we get inside, come on." Henry kissed Birdie's head and sat her on his hip, smiling when she curled up into his chest and tucked her face into the crook of his neck. She didn't care where they were, she was tired and about ready for a nap but he knew when they got inside, she would soon wake up. He held Toby's hand with his free one and they followed after (Y/n) and Levi who lead the way inside.

"Are we at a pub?" Levi leaned his head on (Y/n)'s arm when they walked through the doors. It looked like they were going out for dinner, maybe they were meeting up with family and that was the big reveal. Whatever it was, he could feel himself bubbling up with excitement at all the prospects of what they were doing and if they were meeting anyone.

Staying quiet, (Y/n) ruffled his short hair and pointed towards some doors at the back of the pub past the bar and the tables. They were coming out for dinner, but there was another reason why she had Henry had chosen to bring the kids here.

"Yes! A play area!"

Henry was quite relieved when they walked through and saw that no one else apart from the staff behind the bar were in the play area. It made things a lot easier when no one would be stood around gawking at them and no one could listen in on their conversations, especially around Toby.

The play area was a large indoor dome that had seating on the left and a large climbing area on the right. There was a ball pit, a lot of levels to climb up, some slides dotted around and foam wheels to climb through and robes to swing from and jump about in. And in the far corner, there was a softer play for toddlers like Birdie. It had a lot of foam shapes to climb on, a very small slide and ball pit and mats to crawl around on.

(Y/n) found a table near to the entrance of the play pen and sat down with all her boys following suit and Henry perched Birdie on his lap. She was tired but she was already starting to perk up when she looked around and realised what she could do here.

"You're in luck boys, no one else is here yet. Me and your dad will grab some drinks, so shoes off and go have fun."

"Wh- I can go in too?"

(Y/n) could have cried at the look of pure confusion on Toby's face but when he reached out to grab Henry's hand, she felt her chest tightening. He had been in soft play areas like this before. He had played on climbing frames in other pubs as long as someone in the family was watching over him.

But recently he hadn't been to anywhere like this. At school he couldn't do athletics or go on the climbing frame and he couldn't play football or rounders for obvious reasons. He sat and watched Levi play and it made him jealous as well as bored and restless and argumentative and both parents understood completely. They knew he deserved some fun and to be able to let off some steam and feel like a kid instead of someone who needed extra care and attention.

"It's padded foam, bud, if you fall you aren't gonna break anything." Henry pointed over to make Toby look around.

Each surface was padded with foam and colourful plastic and there were rope walkways he could climb on if he was careful. He wouldn't break something unless he had a very bad harsh fall which was unlikely. As long as he was careful not to get friction burns on the slides and didn't go too fast and bang his head on any of the plastic around the tunnels, he would be fine to let loose here.

"I can go on everything?"

"Yep. The only catch is you just have to come back out every so often for a break. If Levi starts to get hot and sweaty, you both have a drink and a sit down so you don't overheat. Other than that, get going."

Toby couldn't sweat or flush therefore he couldn't regulate his temperature and if he exercised too much without a break he could overheat his system and get a fever. As long as he took a lot of rest every ten or twenty minutes, he would be fine because otherwise he would just keep playing and playing until he was so tired that he dropped.

They used Levi as a mirror, when he started to go red and sweat or get run down then Toby knew it was time for him to have a break as well.

No more needed to be said for the twins to kick off their shoes and scramble to get into the play area and run rampid.

"Do you wanna go play, Birdie?"

"You come with me daddy?" She was already fumbling to throw her red and blue shoes on the floor before she looked up at him with big doe eyes.

"Course I will,"

"Um, will you fit in there?" (Y/n) twisted around to look behind her at the toddler section. If he was going in there he would have to crouch down to get through the small gate and then he wouldn't be able to stand up in there. He might have to crawl on his knees and there was no way Henry would fit on the small platform that led over to the slide.

"Don't I always?" He was up and following Birdie with his tongue between his teeth and a catfish grin on his face that caused (Y/n) to flush. He knew that wasn't what she meant.

(Y/n) got up and got a tray of drinks from the bar, she knew the boys would want coke, Birdie would have a fruit shoot and Henry would have a beer since (Y/n) was driving today. When the drinks were all out on the table, (Y/n) kicked off her shoes and wandered over to the toddler section with a grin on her face.

Birdie was crawling along the small platform towards the slide and Henry had somehow managed to squeeze himself through into the ball pit at the bottom of the slide, waiting patiently to catch her. Grabbing her phone from her pocket, (Y/n) pressed record and watched Birdie squeal and go down the slide on her stomach. She was relieved she put a vest on the little girl this morning or she would have friction burn on her tummy.

"There's my babygirl!"

"Again, again!"

(Y/n) crawled over to the edge to be out the way when Birdie scrambled from the ballpit to go round and do it again.

"Mum, can you come in here?"

She tilted her head back to look up and saw Levi pressed up against the mesh wire edging, his purple nose poking through the square gap and a wide grin on his face. He was near the foam beams that rolled over so kids could climb under and over them like a car wash.

"Alright," She wasn't so sure it was a good idea but she found herself crawling out and trying to find the nearest entrance to the bigger play area. The last time she had gone into a big play centre with the boys she had been pregnant with Birdie and got braxton hicks in the ball pit. It wasn't fun to have to get Henry and his brother to squeeze in and hoist her up to help her out when she was stuck on her knees like she was praying.

She weaved around a pole and found a set of stairs to climb up but when she got close to Levi, he grinned cheekily before he bolted, expecting and hoping her to chase him.

He led her around a corner, through a deep red tunnel that (Y/n) had to scuffle through, thankful that it was wide enough for her but it certainly wouldn't hold Henry with his new workout regime. Then Levi grabbed a rope and swung across a small drop that had a safety net a few feet down in case any kids couldn't swing over.

"Oh, this isn't fair." (Y/n) placed her hands on her hips and took a deep breath but just as she was about to go for it, something caught her eye.

Henry.

He was stood at the bottom with Birdie on his shoulders, his hands on her sides and a wicked grin on his face waiting for her to jump across.

"Go on babe!"

"Go mummy." Birdie clapped her hands and the pair of them watched (Y/n) grab the middle rope, take a step back and then leap forward. It had been years since she had done anything like this but (Y/n) couldn't deny how good it felt to be playing with the kids instead of worrying about them all the time. Or fearing that she was being too strict on Toby and therefore limiting Levi as well to try and even things out or get them to play fair with each other.

She reached the other side without falling on her arse or landing on her knees but she did wobble into the side and push back off the net to regain momentum and balance.

When she got to Levi, she reached out and hit his bum, shouting 'you're it' before bypassing him and trying to make a break for it.

"Mum," Toby jumped down from the climbing levels he was on when he saw her skid round the corner next to him. He didn't realise she had decided to come in and play with them but it made him smile brightly all the same.

"Levi's it, start running baby." (Y/n) let him take her hand and guide her down a different direction and they hurried over a little rope bridge that wobbled left and right as they walked. "Can I get down that?" (Y/n) eyed the blue slide warily when Toby pointed at it with a smile.

It was a curved slide and then a straight drop down into the large ballpit at the bottom, it didn't bend too much so (Y/n) wouldn't get stuck around each corner, but the slide itself looked small.

"Yeah you will, dad wouldn't though, he's massive." He buffed out his shoulders and took a deep breath to try and imitate Henry but he was too skinny to pretend he had much muscle.

"It's called muscle, baby. Alright quick before I change my mind."

Toby sat down first and (Y/n) sat behind him, coiling her legs around him and giving them a push to get them down.

Levi wasn't far behind them, by the time they landed in the ball pit and tried to scramble out the way, he was shooting down like a bullet and wrapped his arms around (Y/n)'s waist, binding himself to her back with a laugh almost identical to Henry's.

"Boys, time to take a break, come grab a drink." Henry waited near the exit to the ball pit, drifting his eyes from the boys over to Birdie to check she was actually still sat down at the table where he left her five feet away. He knew what she was like, she would run off to try and find him in a blind panic if she couldn't see him. He reached his arm out when the boys clambered out and he patted their backs, holding onto Toby's shoulder when he stuck to his side like glue.

"Henry grab her!" (Y/n) tripped trying to reach the small oval gap in the mesh to get out but she frantically pointed over to the table at Birdie.

The four year old had both hands clasped around Henry's beer bottle that was dangerously close to her lips. If she tried to drink that she would make herself sick, the one time Levi had done that as a child he threw up at least three times from the taste and bubbles.

"Birdie no, no put it down!"

Henry let go of Toby and bolted back over to the table just as Birdie took a small gulp and his raised voice sent shivers down her spine. Her eyes bulged in their sockets and she coughed, spilling a bit of beer down her top as a lot of it dribbled past her lips. He never used his authorative voice with her, she wasn't used to hearing him be so loud and stern.

When he reached her he snatched the bottle back and held it high up so she couldn't try and prize it away from him and with his other arm he hooked it around her waist and picked her up, sitting her back on his hip.

"You can't drink that babygirl, you'll be sick, that's daddy's drink."

He swirled the glass a little to check how much she had but she barely had a full mouthful and some of it was dribbled down onto her top so he knew she would be fine.

His eyes narrowed and his lips pressed into a thin line when she started to whimper and reach her tiny hands out, whining to try and get it back even though he could tell by her expression that she hadn't liked the taste. She wanted it simply because Henry had it.

"Daddy…"

When he could see tears in her eyes, Henry tipped his head back and started to drink the beer, not stopping until he drained the full bottle in one go. He could feel the boys staring at him and Birdie reached her hands out and pawed at his neck and chest like a cat.

"Nope, all gone now babygirl, it's empty." He set the bottle back down on the table before he sat down with her on his lap and handed her the fruit shoot instead. Rolling his eyes when she huffed in disappointment. "Fine, I'll drink this too,"

"No daddy!" She almost screamed when Henry raised the small purple bottle to his lips and this time he let her snatch it back from him and start to guzzle the juice.

He leaned back in his chair, raising a brow at his little girl when she snuggled down into his chest and torso, drinking her juice like she was still a baby nursing a bottle. And when he cast his eyes over at the boys, they were looking around the play area with smiles, clearly plotting what they were going to do next.

It always set something off in Henry's chest when he looked at the differences between his boys. Levi was flushed red which mingled with his slowly bruising nose, but his cheeks were a good shade of pink, sweat was glistening on his forehead and his chest was rising and falling rapidly. Toby was just panting lightly, he wasn't sweating, he wasn't flushed and the hairs on his arms weren't moving to release heat. He could spike a fever at any moment and they wouldn't know at all.

He gave no outward signs that he might be ill and that upset Henry, it was why he and (Y/n) were so careful with him, they had to be. Toby's condition was rare, there were less than a thousand recorded cases of CIPA and half of those were adults who developed it, not people who were born with it. Some kids died from this condition with undiagnosed illnesses or burns gone bad or infections.

And it always occurred to Henry as strange that Levi didn't get the same condition. They were identical twins, they shared the same DNA yet there was just one little thing different in Toby's DNA that set him apart and gave him this condition. It was like a fatal flaw he couldn't help nor get rid of.

Henry remembered when they were expecting the twins and (Y/n) was worried about telling them apart. She thought if they were identical they would get them mixed up, she fretted about finding ways to know which infant was which until they got older. It didn't take long for Toby's condition to be discovered and from that moment onwards, there was no way of getting them mixed up.

"Mum, will you go on that slide with us?" Toby pointed up to the black slide looming high at the back of the play area. It was the tallest one with a long slope and a quick curve just before the bottom.

"Uh, I don't think so baby. But your dad might fit on that one," (Y/n) glanced across at Henry and watched him furrow his brow and look between the kids and the slide they were pointing at.

"I think I'd have to lie down to fit in that slide, boys." The slides were supposed to be big enough for adults to go down them with their kids, but Henry was over six foot tall and he was broad, it might be a bit of a squeeze. But when he looked at the boys, he didn't know how to say no. "I suppose I can give it a try, let's pray I don't get stuck."

"Yes!"

"Me and Birdie will get a video for you." (Y/n) got to her feet and held her hand out for her little girl who clung to her with a broad smile.

The boys went one way with Henry stooped over behind them and (Y/n) guided Birdie round the side and towards the back where the crash mat was stuck down at the bottom of the slide. She stood far enough back so the boys wouldn't knock her over and Birdie stood at the side, holding onto the large rim of the slide and peered over, waiting impatiently for the boys to come down so she could surprise them.

It took a few minutes before the girls finally heard the excited screeches and yells from the boys thundering down the slide and (Y/n) crouched down with her phone out in front of her.

But she rolled her lips together tightly to stop herself from laughing when they all came down.

Toby was first, bumping onto the crash mat like a stone skipping on water before he rolled onto his side in fits of laughter. Half a second behind him with his legs still around Toby's hips, Levi came shooting out holding his head and cradling his nose to stop the dizziness and in case he spurted another nosebleed out of nowhere.

And a few seconds behind them, Henry's legs came into view.

"Oh fuck,"

(Y/n) cut the video before she laughed or got scolded and knelt down along with the boys as all three of them peered up into the slide. Henry almost made it out, they could see his feet and his trousers before his hands banged down on the plastic slide causing a thunderous noise to vibrate through. He wasn't exactly stuck, but he didn't quite get to the end of the slide either. He was left shuffling out of the tube with a flushed face and raised brows, just daring any of them to laugh.

"Are you stuck daddy?" Birdie chirped happily as she leaned around the slide and slowly crawled into the end.

"No I am not stuck," He gruffed but his face softened when his girl crawled across and took his hand before she started toddling back out the slide, pulling him with her as if she had the strength and momentum to actually drag him out all by herself. "Thank you princess," His voice mellowed and he rolled onto his knees so he could stand up and he smiled when Birdie took his hand again and stood by his side.

"Sweetheart, I did-"

"Don't you dare," Henry pointed his finger at (Y/n) and she held her hands up, swallowing her laugh as she nodded. Telling him I told you so was only going to make him feel embarrassed.

"Too much muscle, dad." Toby whispered quietly with a nod of his head before he turned to face his mum, unable to contain his laughter any longer.

#henry cavill #henry cavill imagine #imagine #henry x reader #dad! henry #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fluff #painless

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dokidokitsuna · 7 months

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Slowly, I think I’m getting a handle on this…I tried studying the character art from my favorite dead MMORPG, Maple Story 2, and I think it helped me find a style for the shading and rendering that’s more dramatic but still sort of cartoony.

Plus, I’ve been doing a bit of script writing, which always helps me figure things out. ^^ So please enjoy the additional work I’ve done on these character concepts.

-Between these two, Magolor definitely needed the most work: you can tell because I basically drew a full character design sheet, which is something I almost never do because I don’t like repetition. XP But it doesn’t feel repetitive when I’m totally lost to begin with. ^^; I think I got a little too abstract that first time I drew him, so my focus here was to figure out the specific shape of his body and rebuild outward from there. In stark contrast to my usual Magolor designs, he’s very tall and muscular, with an imposing silhouette (especially with his cape on). Yes, he IS hiding something under all those purple bandages, but we won’t talk about it today. ;)

-I also like that his outfit gets darker the further inside you go, from the solid white cape and glittering chains, to the silver armor and gray scarves, to the skintight navy blue fit underneath. Symbolism??? Perhaps~

-Blade’s design was already pretty solid, so I just adjusted her cape a little, and then dove straight into the Rainbow Malady concept art. ^^ Phase 1 has her sprout a second eye and wings on one side of her face. Her head catches fire, as the power of the Rainbow Sword attempts to ‘burn away the darkness’. In this phase, Blade is already in a lot of pain, but remains fully conscious and can even speak, when she isn’t coughing up multicolored blood. She can recover from this on her own with a day of rest. Phase 2 is much more serious, forcing her organs outside of her body, and growing star-shaped welts over the rest of her skin. At this point, she can no longer recover without Magolor’s help-- essentially, he uses magic to shove all her organs back where they belong and stitch up the open wounds. It’s like setting a bone after it’s broken-- just as painful as the injury itself (if not more), but necessary for proper healing…which takes about a week. Phase 3 is the last and worst, transforming her arms into elongated wings and her whole body into burning plasma, on top of all the issues from Phase 2. Thankfully, she can’t really remain conscious in this phase-- she’s usually delirious from fever, blood loss, and her brain literally burning away. ^^; Storywise, she needs about a month to recover from this, so she doesn’t use it too often…of course, as the 'player', you can put her through it as many times as you want. =T

-Fun fact, I guess: So the primary love language between these two characters is food. ^^ I was musing about what I could do with a protagonist arc centered around worsening illness (which is…surprisingly rare), and I thought, “so what do you do for sick people? You put them to bed, you manage their symptoms, you clean and comfort them…and most importantly, you feed them.” And then ^that little doodle basically came to me in a dream, and from there evolved the idea of Magolor showing kindness to Blade by cooking for her.

Most of the time, the little affection Magolor shows to Blade is…basically performative. Think of it like a hammy supervillain petting their cat-- it’s more of a character stim than anything else. ^^; The way Magolor talks to Blade (and especially the way he talks about her…) makes it clear that the hand-holding and headpats don’t mean much.

But on the other hand, giving Blade food and watching her cutely devour it, especially during the times when she’s bed-ridden and he doesn’t see her as often…I like to think that might genuinely endear her to him a little, enough to make it a sort of stand-out gesture. Like, if he strokes her forehead when she’s sick, that’s whatever; but when he spends 5 hours making a Maxim tomato consommé for her to eat, that’s him trying to say he cares. Maybe it’s just a tiny bit, maybe it’s just in that moment, but a small part of him truly wants her to be happy.

#i think the brain worms are gonna stop now that I’ve finally gotten this out #maybe I’ll try doodling some of the boss characters later on #kirby #gijinka #au #BLADE_Princess #magolor #dark matter swordsman

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spectralsleuth · 8 months

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You mentioned that the Hamato household in LSoW and LSoE looks like a wizard's house and that it is filled with furniture that Yoshi inherited from his family... Can you imagine how much historians and antique collectors would be just going gaga about all the priceless stuff in the Hamato home. Like every room has original hand-crafted tables, desks, etc. that can be dated back hundreds of years, the walls have scrolls and weapons crafted by famous masters from 300 years ago. I can just imagine that Yoshi agreed to an interview in his home and, never mind his turtle kids, someone points out the furniture and wall art and people go nuts! This aging action star is just casually mentioning how his sons used to teeth on the chair legs and antique collectors around the world die a little, all while he is sitting on an old chair that was made from a rare tree in Japan worth as much as a down payment on the house and just sipping tea like it's nothing.

Yoshi tapped his foot irritably.

"I really don't understand what the problem is- you sound like my Grandfather." Not a flattering comparison.

"You're not even using a coaster." The camera man looked as if he was in pain, and Yoshi could honestly say that he had not had this much chit-chat from any crew member he'd ever had in his home.

The house was still in a slight state of disarray from the move- there were boxes in the master bedroom stacked to the ceiling, and Blue and Purple had not been separated long enough to be convinced of the benefits of their own bedroom. As a result, both of their bedrooms were half unpacked and mixed together.

Yoshi wasn't particularly passionate about separating the two, but considering every single day it seemed they broke into screaming matches and biting, you would think they would enjoy having their own space as much as Orange and Red did.

It was not so. He could barely get them to sleep in their own bed at this point, but since they were only eight he thought it was prudent to take the separation slow. (At least that was what Dr. Harper had said, when he had floated the idea of encouragement via booby traps and spray bottles by her.)

"It is a piece of furniture- it is meant to be used." It wasn't often that Yoshi thought he was mistranslating English- but he thought this might be one of those situations. The confused looks the Vanity Fair reporter was giving him was selling that impression, and he did not much care for it. "I set things on it? I put- items, in the drawers?" What was the other word for items- funny words, like, oh what was it. "Knick knacks." Sounded like a word for underwear if you asked him.

"This is from the Meiji era." The camera man explained, reverently removing Yoshi's coffee mug from the polished wooden surface. A lost cause, since there was already many overlapping rings of differing shades of brown covering the surface.

There were chips and scuffs covering the top, small marks where Red had rolled over the top during chases with his brothers and left shell-shaped divots, and where Blue and Purple had scratched with idle claws while watching the Mr. Nye TV show. There were crayon marks on the sides, where Orange had run off of his paper with his crayons. He was a good boy and did not draw on furniture on purpose, but accidents happened, and Xander often could not keep up.

"Yes, my great great grandfather commissioned it. I believe from the Emperor's carpenters, to celebrate the new constitution and property they bought in- well, I honestly do not recall. Is this relevant?" Yoshi asked wearily, feeling a twinge of displeasure at even starting to sound like his Ojii lecturing on history.

"There's only about fifty pieces made total in this style- there's no nails in the construction, look it's all joinery on the shelves-" The camera-man was saying, and to Yoshi's displeasure the reporter was still recording using the small device in her hand.

"I thought we were discussing my new movie." Yoshi pointed out, not plaintively, because he was a grown man with four children. "I mean, I have older furniture than that in the bathroom."

The camera man paused, and stared at him. "... Sorry?"

"The bathroom." Yoshi pointed out, and (sensing another translation issue possibly), said "It is where you piss."

"Piss!" Orange yelled from the hallway, where he went sprinting by with the tap-tap-tap of feet.

"DO NOT REPEAT THAT!" Yoshi called out. He was drowned out by Blue and Red fast on Oranges tail, screaming with laughter. It was nice to hear Red's laughter for a change, but since his eldest was also chasing his brothers with a stock pot and a spoon, Yoshi thought he should intervene. "Excuse me, one moment."

Red was only willing to trade the stockpot for a yardstick, which he began beating on Blue and Orange's shells respectively. Since his two youngest were giggling wildly, Yoshi left them to it and turned on cartoons in one of the bedrooms for them to watch when they grew tired of hitting each other.

By the time he got back to the Vanity Fair crew, they had gathered in the hallway, and were being shown the bathroom by a very pleased looking Purple.

"Ah Purple, excellent work my son- ah. I was kidding about the furniture-"

"No you weren't." The cameraman accused, looking frantic and pale. "This is a silver backed oriental mirror from under- oh I don't know. Kōmei? Ninkō?

"Kōka." Yoshi corrected, hating himself. "So, both probably."

Purple tugged on the cameraman's sleeve, and (looking hesitant) the camera man bent down to listen as Purple cupped hands around his snout in order to whisper in his ear.

"YOU WRITE ON IT?" The man gasped, looking appalled.

"I have raised a tattle-taler." Yoshi said mournfully, as Purple looked smugly at him from behind the reporter's legs. "Why don't you go help smack your brothers you snitch?"

Purple's tail started thumping against the cabinet at the idea, and he dropped to all fours to put on speed as he darted out between Yosh's legs and down the hall.

"Why are you so obsessed with furniture anyway?" Yoshi asked the cameraman after Purple had disappeared down the stairs, and he heard Blue and Orange start squealing in delight.

"My parents own a museum exhibit." The camera man said idly, pulling the mirror back from the wall enough to peer behind, and make a wounded noise. "It has the manufacturer seal on it still."

"Oh course it does. All Hamato furniture is authentic."

"It has crayon on it." The camera man looked close to tears.

"Yes?" Yoshi didn't understand the question. He looked at the reporter, who was still recording and writing furiously. "You are going to want to put this into the article, aren't you?" Yoshi sighed.

The reporter gave him a winning smile. "I think our readers would enjoy this very much Mr. Hamato."

#LSoW #my writing #anon ask #ask #rottmnt #tmnt #tmntau #snippet #me purposefully not naming the OC's so i don't get attached #send me asks guys i get bored

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bengiyo · 2 months

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Get to Know Me Tag :)

I was tagged by @telomeke and shaded by @lurkingshan.

do you make your bed?

Not usually, but I don't have a partner right now. I find that I'm actually really good at cleanliness when I have people in my space regularly. I am better about taking care of things when I'm doing them for the ease of others.

what's your favourite number?

14, but I couldn't tell you why. I think it has something to do with a girl named Ciara who I sat behind in elementary school.

what is your job?

I fix things for a government agency.

if you could go back to school, would you?

Probably. I didn't really know what I wanted to do when I went to college, and was far too much a mess at the time to study what I really should have. If I could do it and maintain my expenses, I'd retrain for my preferred profession.

can you parallel park?

Yes. I am the gay who drives.

a job you had that would surprise people?

I was paid for over two years to be really good at D&D.

do you think aliens are real?

So... I gotta be honest... I hate this question. This feels as loaded as the "Do you believe in God?" question. We are not aware of the existence of life on other planets, let alone sentient life. There is nothing for me to believe in. Do I hope that there are other intelligent beings out there? Yes. I think it would be really cool to engage in communication with a species that also crawled their way out of the muck and made it to space. I think there's much we could learn from each other about life and the universe itself. But belief is such a loaded term for me as a lapsed Catholic. I do not believe in aliens, but I hope that we'll get to meet some in the future.

can you drive a manual car?

Nope! Never needed to learn.

what's your guilty pleasure?

Hmm... Nothing really anymore?

tattoos?

Nah, I've always worked in the public sector in a way that hasn't made it an advisable choice, and I've rarely cared enough about something to mark my body with it.

favorite color?

Purple most of the time, but my wardrobe would say I'm in my green era.

favorite type of music?

I'm a soft rock 90s kid who embraced a lot of 2000s and later alternative. I've been on a huge synthwave kick lately. However, because I grew up in the 90s and remember the era of radio, I have a deep affection for Soul and R&B, classic rock, and pop.

do you like puzzles?

Yes? But not in a way that makes me yearn for them.

any phobias?

Probably falling, but that seems like a normal one for survival purposes.

favorite childhood sport?

Baseball! I was a shortstop.

do you talk to yourself?

Not often. I don't actually have an internal monologue, so I don't need to talk to myself often to get through it.

what movies do you adore?

This is...so difficult. I'm just going to name a ton of films: Pooh's Grand Adventure: The Search for Christopher Robin, Pacific Rim, Ghost Dog, Master and Commander, The Man From Earth, The Sum of Us, Big Eden, Kill Bill 1 and 2, Knives Out, Muppet Treasure Island, Gattaca, C.R.A.Z.Y., Weekend, First Blood, Robocop, Starship Troopers, Drive My Car, Nine Days, Really Love, Set it Off, Make the Yuletide Gay, Shelter, Pig, Kiki's Delivery Service, The Digimon Movie, Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon, Star Wars IV and V, Isa Pa With Feelings, The Way He Looks... and probably many more.

coffee or tea?

Coffee. Tea does so little for me.

first thing you wanted to be growing up?

A train conductor or an astronaut! Trains are so cool, and space is the final frontier! We have to boldly go where no one has gone before!

I'll tag @shortpplfedup, @negrowhat, @chicademartinica, @so-much-yet-to-learn and @happypotato48

#tag game #tag meme #about me

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gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot · 7 months

Note

This meme, but its Soap and: "Johnny, where the fuck is my eyeshadow palette??" "Sorry-y-y-y, Christine! I was out of a war paint! I'll buy you another one, I promise!" And then he really buys another one, a completely another one, with the colors, Riot never used before, even on these rare occasions, when she used a tiny bit of shadows. But that actually helped her discover a few new options of a makeup, that look fantastic on her.

''JOHN IAN MACTAVISH''

It was in that moment when Soap knew he had fucked up.

His sister Isla tried to muffle a laugh when she saw the absolute terror in his baby blue eyes, already knowing what was about to go down. Her little brother had spent the last fifteen minutes trying to get her to help him save his hide, and the last five groaning at her laughter.

''Isla, please, PLEASE, she's gonna kill meh''

''Should'ave thought that better then, Bràthair (brother)'' Isla chuckled when he pouted, more worried about choosing her outfit for her date than helping. ''Why did'yae think t'was a good idea to use her eyeshadow for yer wee painting is beyond meh''

''Ah dinnae think it through, ah just needed silver pigments!'' Soap dove behind her bed to hide when they could hear Riot's steps coming down the stairs from the second floor. She knocked on the threshold once, shaking with anger, her blue eyes fuming.

''Where the FUCK is your useless brother?''

''Are ye gonna kill him?'' Isla turned in her stool with a big smile, seeing from the corner of her eye how Johnny was gesticulating wildly at her from the floor.

''YES''

''In that case, ah think ah saw him running to the barn''

''Thank you'' Christine turned in her heels to prowl down the stairs to the ground floor. When her steps died in the distance, Johnny raised his head over Isla's bed.

''Yer my saviour, sis''

''Ye better fix it, ye know. Tha'was her only palette'' Isla felt a bit of pity when she saw the crestfallen look on her brother's face. Everyone knew that Christine rarely bought things for herself, and the things she did buy lasted forever because she was very careful. Also, she rarely bothered with eyeshadow. ''Aww, dinnae look at meh like that, ye eejit. Listen, yer gonna do this...''

''Please, pleeeease, pretty please with a cherry on top''

Christine rolled her eyes, trying hard to keep her frown when Johnny kept grovelling and apologizing, kneeling in front of her while she was sitting on the bed at the guest room (her room, as Mam insisted over and over again, but she resisted to believe).

''Just... stop it, Johnny. It's alright. It's just stupid makeup''

''Aye, it is... NO, NO IT ISN'T'' Johnny corrected himself immediately, seeing Isla's face peeking from the hallway, glaring at him. ''Ah mean, aye but nah. T'was yers and Ah ruined it, so it's only fair Ah make it up to yeh. Heeheh make up, got it?''

From the hallway, Isla facepalmed so hard that for a moment she was afraid Christine would hear, but she seemed just as dumbfounded, sighing.

''What have you done now, Johnny?

''Bought ye some, see'' The excited Scot emptied a shopping bag on the bed, starting to show her what he had bought. ''Isla told meh ye needed a naked palette...''

''Nude''

'T'is not the same?''

Christine sighed deeply, examining the nude collection palette in her hands. She couldn't deny some of the colours looked pretty, but she wasn't sure.

''Johnny, I don't think...''

''Wait, wait, Ah have more''

''What?''

He dropped palette after palette on her hands. A small one with bronze tones. Another one with a saturated, pearlescent deep purple. Another with rose-copper and russet-brown shades that he explained would combine well with her blue-gray eyes. And another single one with a vibrant peach.

''Ah dinnae keen what else to bring ye but... are ye crying?''

Christine shook her head slowly, still looking at the eyeshadow palettes, not knowing what to do. It was too much just for a silly thing like makeup. Johnny sat down beside her and grabbed her hands.

''Ah should nae touched yer things... here let me paint ye''

''Paint? What? I'm not a canvas, don't you... Johnny!''

Isla laughed under her breath, shutting the door when the bickering started again. Everything was right again in the MacTavish household.

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heisenberg-simp257 · 1 year

Note

60, 156, 158 for Karl ❤️

I love your writing!

Thank you so much!💖

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

Simpler Times

It's easy to forget the war outside when the life you have inside has so much more to look forward to.

#60 “I made dinner for us.”

#156 “It soothes the baby when you talk/sing/tell a story to him/her/them.”

#158 “I can’t wait to hold him/her/them.”

Contrary to what people believed, Heisenberg did care about others. It's just that the spectrum of who those others were was very little. Very rarely will some human spark enough interest in him for him to even bother about their lives.

I guess you were special.

To this day you were still trying to figure out why Heisenberg kept you alive. Sure, now you guys had a relationship built on love and trust that took several years, but what started it? What was it about you that sparked interest in that unique head of his? He'll probably never say because he probably doesn't really know.

But it doesn't really matter anymore. Heisenberg was a man who moved forward without dwelling too much on the simple things of the past. And now, he had too more so than ever. Life had a meaning to him now.

You asked him to do a simple task, one that involved sorting clothes. He didn't even have to fold them. All he had to do was put the clothes in three simple piles.

Yours (fairly large).

His (pitifully small).

And the baby's (horrifyingly large).

Discovering you're going to have a kid is one thing, especially when it was never a part of your future plans, but actually prepping for said kid is a whole other level. He's never seen so many different shades of pinks and purples in his life. It made him want to vomit, even though he was actually happy at the news.

It was like a sign from above that he needed to focus more on his life instead of on the lives that caused him evil. As soon as Heisenberg got the news, he got a calendar. Then he dusted off one of his old ultrasound machine things that he used on his experiments in order to get a better look at the baby.

He may not be a doctor, but even he could tell it was a girl. So, you guys prepared for a girl. It made things more real.

And it also made it to where the Lord of Metal was sitting on a bed sorting through clothes as he cursed under his breath. If the other lords saw him now, they would surely laugh because such a simple task seemed so difficult for him. However, his misery was cut short as you called for him.

"Karl!" Hearing his first name still makes him smirk a bit, but he follows your call regardless to the kitchen. Once there, the smell of laundry was replaced by the smell of your cooking.

“I made dinner for us.” You announced, placing some plates down on the dining table. Your smile was radiating, but Heisenberg found his eyes tracing down your ever curvy figure as well, now heavy with child.

"You are a saint, you know that?" He said with a grin as he sauntered into the room, placing a kiss on your cheek.

"You tell me a lot, so yes." You giggled as you gently maneuvered yourself around the kitchen to finish setting up, him helping you. He looked a bit tired, but nothing new about that.

"Did you get everything done?" You asked, referring to the task you gave him while you made dinner. Heisenberg chuckled to himself as you guys finished setting up.

"I don't know how you do it all. You are one hell of a woman." He complimented and you blushed.

"In more ways than one." He added, eyes looking farther away as a slight smile came to his face. Absentmindedly, your hand went to caress your baby bump, a smile coming to your face as well.

“I can’t wait to hold her.” You mused, picturing your daughter already in your head. However, Heisenberg's smile vanished a bit as another thought came to mind. Your smile left your face as well when you noticed his solemness.

"Karl...what's wrong?" You asked gently, reaching over as best you could to grab his hand. Dinner could wait at the moment.

"I'm just...afraid. You're so soft and gentle while I'm...not." He admitted his fears to you, something that took forever to accomplish. His thumb gently stroked your knuckles as he took a deep breath.

You nodded.

"It's okay...to be afraid. It's all so new to both of us." You tried to comfort him, but he just scoffed a bit.

"Yeah...I just don't want her to be afraid of me." Heisenberg admitted with a side eye. You squeezed his hand lovingly.

"You won't. You want to know why?" You asked with a small smile. He looked up at you, seemingly confused before nodding a bit.

You reached over to grab his other hand and place it on your belly.

“It soothes the baby when you talk to her.” You stated, smiling lovingly at the man who helped you create a miracle.

He looked lost for a bit before the baby kicked slightly against his palm. For a moment, he was shocked, but then a wide grin broke out on his face.

"Really? You like listening to your old man?" Heisenberg cooed, an unnatural sight, as he rubbed your belly lovingly. It made you blush and your heart swell.

Against everything in his life, Heisenberg finally found something to be happy about. You just hoped that he wouldn't overthink things in the future.

It's nice to hear him talk to your unborn child more often.

The war outside rages, but inside his home, he has found closure.

#resident evil #resident evil imagines #resident evil village #resident evil village imagines #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg imagine #karl heisenberg x reader

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jamespottersmixtape · 8 months

Text

rosekiller microfic: mine 2,445 words nsfw!!

unfiltered pure smut, including daddy kink *don't read if you're not comfortable*

The harsh click of the front door, the turn of the lock, then Evan is being shoved against the wall of the foyer. Firm hands circle his waist and hot, cracked lips find purchase on his neck. Bite, suck, lick.

“Fucking finally,” Barty groans, his fingers digging in deeper; blunt nails to guide Evan’s hips where they rut frantically into thin air. “All mine, you’re all mine.”

Evan whines, high and loud and desperate. His skin is alive, buzzing and pulsing with each new vibration that sends a shock wave through his body. The setting is on low, has been all night—not enough to offer relief but enough that after two hours mingling with friends and getting tipsy next to sweaty strangers, Evan feels fucking crazy.

He lets slip another whine, fingers tight in wispy dark hair as his neck shifts from shades of red to deep purple. “Barty.”

Barty laughs, low and breathy. The sound makes Evan’s head spin, or maybe it’s the way Barty presses his cock firmer into Evan’s thigh. “You were so good for me tonight, baby.”

And oh, aren’t those the best and worst fucking words Evan has ever heard.

He needs Barty closer, he needs it now. He needs him to take him apart and put him back together only to destroy him again once he realizes it’s what Evan wants.

Barty’s hand slips into the back of Evan’s trousers, prodding and pushing at the toy pressed inside of him, making him squirm. “Please.”

“Fuck, Ev. So pretty, so greedy. Always look so fucking good, I could barely keep my hands off you.” Barty kisses him fiercely, swallowing a third whine. His tongue pushes past his lips and teeth, slick and soft in the way it slides against Evan’s. It’s familiar and comforting, the taste of cheap liquor and smoke and home.

“What do you think?” Barty mumbles against his lips, kneading the soft flesh of his ass with one hand. “Do you deserve to be fucked tonight? Were you good enough to deserve my cock?”

Evan lets his head thud against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut. “I—yes, fuck. Please, Barty, I was good. I tried to be good for you.”

Evan is still trying for friction, for relief, but Barty’s hand has left his trousers, all stimulation gone except for the faint vibration that’s been nothing but relentless. He stills Evan’s hips, brushing a hand under his jaw to lift his chin. Evan opens his eyes reluctantly.

“You did, didn’t you? Stood so still, didn’t let anyone know how fucking wrecked you felt. I bet no one saw how hard you were,” Barty’s eyes are playful yet dangerous, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re fucking aching for it. All mine, all for me.”

“All yours,” Evan breathes out.

He hears it when Barty’s breath hitches, eyes scanning carefully over Evan’s face. He’s raw under Barty’s gaze—the only person in the world that can make him feel like this. Split open. Cherished and revered. He tucks a stray piece of Evan’s blonde hair into place, pale inked fingers splayed delicately over his jaw and cheek. A rare, still moment in time, neither of them breathing.

It’s Barty who cracks, a hand sliding down Evan’s throat as he kisses him again, sharp and abrupt, leading him off the wall and down the hallway.

Their bedroom isn’t far, but it takes an impressive amount of time to get there. Hands ripping at clothes as they try not to separate their lips for too long. Each item of clothing discarded in various piles until they’re both naked—burning skin on skin as Barty drags him down, tumbling into soft sheets.

“Fuck, fuck—baby,” Barty groans, manhandling Evan’s hips and torso, turning them so Evan is splayed on his back, his hair fanning out in a golden halo over the pillows. He bends to Bary’s will, limp and pliant to do whatever he asks of him.

Barty goes straight in, kissing and licking a line down Evan’s neck, taking one pierced nipple into his mouth and playing with the other, twisting the cool metal around with his tongue. Evan moans, high in his throat, his back arching off the mattress.

Barty slots a thigh between his legs and grips his ass. His nails dig in hard and Evan is gone. He’s so fucking gone. “B, please. I–I need—”

“Flip over for me.”

Evan whimpers, turning over so his face is pressed into the pillow, ass in the air the way he knows Barty likes it. He grips the sheet loosely, arms already shaky. A low groan is heard from behind him, and then it’s cool fingers running up and down his back, a shiver wracking his spine.

“Barty.”

Barty clicks his tongue, tsking in disapproval. “Baby just cause you’ve been good doesn’t mean you can call me whatever you want.” He drapes himself over Evan, nipping at the top of his ear so he can speak low and clear, his hand rubbing small circles over the cleft of his ass. “Come on, you know what to say.”

And fuck, Evan really should have seen it coming. He’s already hard, but he must be leaking down his leg at this point, making a mess all over the blanket.

“Daddy, please.”

Then Barty pulls away, his warmth gone from Evan’s back. Evan is just about to turn his head in question when Barty’s palm lands on one cheek with a resounding crack, the sharp sound echoing throughout the room. Evan’s body jerks forward with the force, his eyes widening. “Better,” Barty says.

Evan hisses from the sting; he can already feel the soft red beginning to bloom beneath his skin. He pushes back, a silent cry for more. But it doesn’t come, Barty takes hold of either side of his hips harshly, tugging them up.

Barty presses one finger to the plug, firm as he stretches Evan even further. It’s still on—controlled only by a small button that would require it to be removed—and Evan savors the feeling, delights in just how full he is.

“Fuck, you’ve had this in for so long…taking it like it’s nothing.” Barty pulls it halfway out without warning, pushes it back in hard. “Bet you’re all fucking loose for me. Ready for my cock, just like a fucking whore.”

Evan moans, squirming against Barty’s touch, a cracked and ragged sound. “Are you? Are you a whore, baby?” Barty’s breath is hot over his hole where he fucks the toy in and out of him, slow and languid. “So open, so fucking willing. Bet you’d bend over like this for anyone if they asked nicely.”

Evan chokes, shaking his head as best he can against the pillow. “No, no. Just—just you daddy. Just you.”

Barty pulls the plug completely out, no warning. Evan hears the soft click as he turns it off, the air around them stilted as the noise ceases. Evan whines at the loss, can feel his hole clenching around air, still slick with lube from earlier. He swallows and forces his words out. “Only you, daddy.”

Barty laughs, clear and cutthroat, slicing through Evan like a sharp blade. He gets a hold in Evan’s hair and yanks. Hard enough that his entire body lifts off the mattress, his head coming to rest on Barty’s shoulder.

“That’s right, baby,” Barty’s voice is laced with a smirk—Evan can almost taste it, “You’re daddy’s fucking whore. Mine.”

Then Evan is being thrown forward, pushed headfirst back into position with absolutely no control over it. He adores when Barty gets like this—possessive and demanding. When Evan can give him everything he has and dump it into Barty’s open hands, no question. He trusts him completely, always will.

It’s a long and tortuous lick to his hole, Barty’s tongue pressed all the way flat, that causes Evan to cry out next. He honestly won’t be surprised if they get another noise complaint. It’s tough for Evan to stay quiet as Barty starts to lave at his entrance, licking and sucking over the already abused rim.

There’s spit everywhere as Barty eats like he’s a man fucking starved, pushing past the loosened muscle to get inside. Evan’s mind grows fuzzier with each expert swirl of his tongue, the vibration of Barty’s groan as he takes what is given.

Evan’s cock is straining where it hovers above the mattress, untouched and painful. “Feels so good, daddy. I–I can’t—” he tries to move his arm but Barty reaches out to pin down his wrist, pulling away from his hole with a wet sound.

“No touching, baby. Take it.”

“I—”

Another loud smack to his other cheek, even harder than before. The pain coaxes another broken moan from bitten lips.

“I said fucking take it.”

Evan feels the familiar sting behind his eyes when Barty’s mouth meets skin again. Hot tears well behind his eyes and threaten to spill—tipping, tipping, tipping, over the edge. A long slender finger pushes its way through his walls and Evan sobs, loud and unburdened, eyes leaking and cheeks damp as he begins to fall apart.

“I’m gonna—can I—need to…”

Barty’s tongue pushes even deeper before pulling back, adding a second finger and never letting up. “You wanna come, baby? Been waiting all fucking day and now look at you, I haven’t even touched your pretty little cock.”

“Please, please, please,” Evan chants, each plea recited like a prayer. On his knees and worshiping a god he willingly suffers for. Hands clasped in rumpled sheets rather than a pew.

Barty reaches to take Evan in his hand, fisting his cock in tandem with his fingers. Working quick with nothing but one goal in mind. “Fuck, so good for me, only for me,” Barty presses a kiss to the red marks still sizzling from his earlier slap, licks one last stripe over his hole. “Come for me, baby.”

It hits Evan hard, drags him under and holds him down as he spills hot and fast over Barty’s hand. A high whine and a shattered ‘fuck, daddy’ ripped forcefully from his chest. His vision blurs with unshed tears, another loud sob wracking his frame as he works through his high, rocking hard on Barty’s fingers.

“God,” Barty groans, slowing his thrusts and pulling each digit out as Evan’s high ebbs, earning a whimper in response. Evan is breathing ragged but turns his head as much as he can, struggling to focus as Barty takes the fingers coated in Evan’s come into his mouth one by one.

Inhale. Exhale.

Barty is licking them clean, swirling his tongue with the taste of Evan. Lips shiny and pink and—

“Tastes so fucking good.”

Fuck.

Barty ghosts a hand over his spent cock and Evan tries to writhe away, but Barty grips his thigh. It’s firm, meant to hold him in place. “Baby we’re not done yet, you know that.” His voice is rough and low, and this time Evan doesn’t move as Barty takes his cock in his hand. Squeezing the base, touch featherlight as he traces a vein. His own form of worship.

“Daddy,” he says, a silent question. A demand woven into one word. “I’m—’m empty.”

“And what am I gonna do about that?”

Evan pulls away from his touch, taking the liberty to turn on his back. Barty slots himself between his open legs without question, always able to tell just where Evan wants him. Evan tugs him forward, lips brushing in an exchange of hot air. “You always fill me up so well.”

And that’s all it takes.

Limbs intertwined and fingers pulling skin, teeth scraping down to the bone as Barty presses into him. Quick and sharp but so fucking deep. Evan is boneless—mind blissfully blank as each hard thrust turns him inside out.

“How are you so—fuck,” Barty curses, thrusts increasing in speed and intensity. Nothing but pleasure painted on his features. Fucking gorgeous—he’s Evan’s whole world and more. “Still so fucking tight, baby. Letting me fuck you after you’ve already come, like a good fucking whore.”

Evan laughs into the space between them, lips breaking into a delirious smile. On the brink of euphoria. “The best,” he chokes out.

The air is knocked from his lungs when Barty changes the angle and hits the spot that breaks him. “F-Fuck, daddy, there.” His cock is flush and hard again, as if he never came in the first place. But Evan can feel it building again, a raging fire that only Barty can extinguish.

Barty surges to kiss him, licking into his mouth so Evan can taste himself. Heady and salty from the tears now dried on his face. Evan groans and bites his lip hard enough to break skin. Tearing at soft flesh and drinking him down.

“Wanna hear you when you come,” Barty grunts, his movements growing sloppier as he nears his edge. “Say my name, baby.”

“Yes yes, I’m close. I’m so—so close.”

Evan’s body is tingling from head to toe, charged and electrified. Ready to spark and burn out, all at the same time. He can’t help it, each word that falls from Barty’s lips the sweetest fucking thing known to man.

So really, when Barty grabs him a third time that night, stroking his cock fast and sloppy the way he knows makes Evan dizzy, he had already broken. His second orgasm hits him harder than the first, enough that he can barely hear the way he cries out as he paints his stomach. Hot white splashing over smooth, taut skin.

He must have strung together what hopefully was Barty, or daddy, or maybe an incomprehensible collection of both—Evan is too far gone to figure it out—because not a moment later Barty curses, coming all the way undone.

“Mine, mine, fucking mine,” he groans, his hips stilling in one last deep push as he spills into him. Filled to the brim, shallowly fucking every drop further. It feels permanent, the way Barty burrows deeper still. As if he doesn’t already know the weight of him simply being.

It’s a slow comedown. Heavy breaths and a few languid kisses, Barty pulling out with a sharp inhale as his come drips down Evan’s thighs. “You’re god awful,” he says somewhere between a groan and a laugh, giving Evan’s thigh a small slap.

Evan just pulls him forward, legs wrapping around his waist without a care to how messy they both are. They’re sweaty and scraped raw, hollow yet perfectly fucking content—only with each other.

So Evan makes sure to flash Barty his most devilish smile when he says, “Daddy always loves it when I’m bad.”

#it's me #late as always :))#umm that happened #they possessed me #oh well #rosekiller daddy kink has been rotting in my head for weeks soooo #barty loves the word 'mine'#anyways I LOVE THEM EFHKEJHF #rosekiller #barty crouch jr #evan rosier #barty x evan #rat's silly microfics

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kaylinalexanderbooks · 2 months

Text

Find the Word

Thanks @notwritinganyflufftoday for the tag!

My words: gift, life, beautiful, empty

Your words: trace, rough, slip, different

Softly tagging with no pressure @mk-writes-stuff @little-peril-stories @aziz-reads @mysticstarlightduck @jessicagailwrites @pinkevilwriter @chauceryfairytales @cadotoast @memoriethereaderandwriter-blog @thewrittenpost + anyone else

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

Keep reading for:

One of Robbie's presents to Lexi

The shortest chapter of TSP

Noelle kills the mood

Any time I get to post the boneless cereal scene, I do!

Gift - from The Secret Portal Part One (Lexi POV)

Robbie stepped forward, holding up a messily-wrapped box in his hands. “Gotcha something,” he said, handing me the present. “Aw, thank you!” I said, setting down my things so I could take the gift. I sat on the couch and Robbie sat beside me. “Go on, open it!” said Robbie, knee bouncing in excitement. I smiled and ripped the paper, a brown box being uncovered. “Oh, wow, a box. Thanks so much!” Robbie laughed as I attempted to break the seal on the box. It snapped open, revealing the contents. “Bubble wrap!” I said, immediately beginning to pop it. Maddie leaned over and took a sheet, and Robbie helped himself as well. “I thought this was my present,” I teased. “No, the bubble wrap is for me,” said Robbie, beginning to pop the bubbles. I removed the bubble wrap and tossed it temporarily on the floor. In the box rested three objects. I gasped at the first one. “An Xbox Game Pass?” I looked up at Robbie. “No way.” He shrugged. “See what else is in there.” I picked up the next relatively flat wrapped object. “You went all out.” “Of course,” Robbie said like it was obvious.

Life - from The Secret Portal Part One

William slowly poured the new formula, sparkling with speedsters’ lightning, onto the frozen insect. He clutched the tablet—containing all of his notes, the ingredients to his formula, his observations, the past month of his life—against his body. He tapped the side rapidly, anxiety taking hold. Slowly, the insect’s wings began to flap. William laughed. He jumped out of his seat, tossed the tablet on the table, and ran out of the lab, toward the elevator. He didn’t think to write down his findings—he could do that later. He didn’t even think to call Atsila to let her know he was on the way to their quarters. He had to tell his wife in person. Immediately.

Beautiful - from The Secret Portal Part One (Gwen POV)

The woods were fascinating. I’d been on nature hikes like this one back home. There were differences here, though. There was a patch of bracken with a purple-blue hue. In fact, a lot of the plants in the forest were shades of purple. At least more than there are at home. Purple was rare in nature. But not here. We passed a small brook with reddish-violet stones. The bark had different patterns, colors—everything. The animals were just as enthralling. There was a small herd of deer, though instead of antlers, they had horns. Longhorns, to be exact. There were squirrel-like creatures with tiny bull horns that scampered up a tree. A shiver of the indigo bracken caught my eye and what looked like a ferret poked its head out. It looked normal until it ran out—not with legs, but wiggling like a snake. Frogs hopped along the stones in the brook and flew off on dragonfly wings. “This place is beautiful,” I murmured. “There’s a war going on,” Noelle said.

Empty - from The Secret Portal Part One (Robbie POV)

“You thinking about something?” Akash asked at the table as I stared at the bowl in front of me. “Have you ever thought about how cereal is like the skeleton of milk?” “You’re implying that milk is meat, and I don’t like that at all.” “Milk has fat—yes, I’m implying that it’s meat.” “So milk is cereal that’s, like, boneless?” “Exactly.” “However, some people have cereal dry, which means that the cereal is a fatless skeleton, but we add fat if we feel the need.” “Does that make the bowl the flesh?” “Of course it does.” “So we’re eating the insides right out of the skin?” Akash paused. “Yes.” “Terrifyingly morbid,” I said, taking a huge bite of my soggy bowl-innards. “Some people have fruit in their cereal,” Akash pointed out. “What are those?” “Organs?” I suggested. “Sure, why not?” “I just realized something even more morbid.” “What?” “So we keep the bones in its own separate box, we keep the meat refrigerated in a liquid state, it’s already disemboweled, and we keep its empty flesh sack in a dark room with other flesh sacks.” “What the heck are you guys talking about?” I looked up to see Sammy in the doorway, her hair a mess from just getting out of bed. “You’re up early,” I noted. Sammy shrugged. “I got hungry.” “You want some disemboweled innards served directly in the flesh sack?” Akash asked, holding up his bowl. Sammy pressed her eyebrows together in a disturbed expression. “I think I’ll get toast.”

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randomprose · 2 months

Text

plans for the future

written for the satosho server weekly prompt: wedding [ao3] set after 221

“Hey,” Shoko calls Satoru’s attention as she pulls off her surgical gloves and he’s getting dressed. “Don’t die.”

“Of course, I won’t. Didn’t I say I’d win?” Satoru scoffs as he pulls down his shirt. “What, you doubtin’ or something?”

Shoko’s check-up is more thorough than usual and her reversed cursed technique practically swept him from head to toe despite Satoru not needing any healing. Not since he got out of the Prison Realm days ago anyway and even then it’s not like he sustained any real damage from being sealed in the box for nineteen days other than severe boredom. But Satoru supposed that’s just a necessary precautionary measure for tomorrow’s fight and Shoko is a pro after all.

“No. It’s just that…” Shoko chews the inside of her cheek, mulling over her words as she leans on her table. Her eyes trained on Satoru still perched on her examination table. “I have plans for us.”

“Oh? And what would those plans be?”

She reaches back to the drawer under her desk for a small back velvet box and casually tosses it in his direction. Satoru deftly catches it, eyes widening when he looks down at what it is.

Whatever thoughts Satoru has when Shoko said she has plans for them goes flying out the window. He opens the box to see what’s inside and—yep this was definitely not one of them. Not even his all-knowing Six Eyes saw this one coming.

“Shoko!” Satoru gasps as the ring glints up at him. “Shoko!”

“What? I’m right here.”

“You’re not serious?!”

“As serious as five hundred thousand yen.”

“Five hundred thou—You’re seriously not serious?!”

Shoko, Ieri cheapskate Shoko, whom Satoru has rarely ever seen pay for anything (if at all!) in her life since becoming friends with him, just bought him a five hundred thousand yen engagement ring.

“I can just take it back if you—”

“No!” Satoru turns and raises his arms so the box is out of her reach. “No. You said you have plans for us.”

“I did.” Plans which got derailed because of this whole shit show but, eh, it is what it is. “I do.”

“Slow down, doc. I haven’t even said yes and you’re already saying your I do’s?” Satoru smirks, all too giddy and smug at this sudden development. “A little presumptuous of you, no?”

“Like I said, I can always take it back. Those plans aren’t set in stone anyway.”

Satoru doesn’t rise to her teasing this time, too caught up staring at the ring nestled in blue velvet cushion. It’s a platinum band with six diamonds embedded in it. No doubt customized because the diamonds are the same purple shade as her eyes, which Satoru always said he likes.

But the best thing about it is that Shoko has infused each diamond with her cursed energy.

Fuck. Dammit. Satoru thinks he’s going to cry.

“You bought me an engagement ring,” Satoru says, soft and reverent. “And you have plans for us.”

“Yes, Gojo, we’ve already established that.” Fuck sakes. He’s holding the damn ring in his hand. “And?”

“Uggghh,” Satoru groans because he’s dramatic and a diva and a goof and Shoko wants to marry his ridiculous ass. “What the hell, man? This is sooo unromantic!” Shoko rolls her eyes and Satoru has to fight tooth and nail so his petulant pout doesn’t turn into a giddy grin. “Like, where’s the build-up? The romance? Dude, you didn’t even get me flowers! And what? You couldn’t even get on one knee and pop the question properly? So unromantic, Shoko. Seriously.”

He’s joking, of course. Satoru knows Shoko doesn’t have the time or the patience or even the imagination (or the stomach) for all that mushy shit. In any case, he doesn’t really care about all of that because he’s already so fucking ecstatic.

Sure, it’s not his dream proposal exactly, but that’s only because he’s always envisioned it would be somewhere grand and romantic (like Paris or their high school classroom or in spring when the cherry blossoms are in full bloom), and he would be the one going down on one knee (in his best suit with his hair styled slick back for a more devastating effect and a sure ‘yes’) and catching Shoko off guard.

Then again, Satoru thinks as he looks at Shoko across from him lips quirked in a minuscule smile, the woman has somehow always been three steps ahead of the Six Eyes.

All in all, Satoru supposes the school infirmary with Shoko saying she has plans for them and beating him to the punch isn’t a bad way to get engaged.

“Tell you what,” Shoko says as she crosses the short distance between them and gently pries the box from his hand. “When you finish the fight and come back alive—that’s a requirement, dumbass, you hear me?—then I’ll propose. Properly. I’ll give you romance and the build-up. I’ll buy you flowers and have a speech. The whole shebang. Hell, I’ll even get down on one knee.”

Because not only is Shoko always three steps ahead of him but she also never ceases to surprise and defy Satoru’s expectations.

“Really?”

“Really. I promise I’ll get down on my knees.” Shoko pockets the velvet box and shoots him a heavy look through long lashes and half-lidded eyes. “In more ways than the one.”

“Oh.” Satoru is slow on the uptake but his eyes follow the way Shoko smirks as she licks and bites her lip and finally gets it. “Oh.”

“Hey! Can we get this thing wrapped up quick?” Satoru shouts after Sukuna amidst the rubble. “I’ve got a proposal to get to!”

“Oh, you’re proposing? How cute.”

“No, I’m getting proposed to,” Satoru says primly, firing another Red. Sukuna is hit but easily regenerates. “But that will only happen after I finish you! So. Chop-chop! Come on!”

“It’s the reverse cursed technique user, isn’t it? Good for you I guess. You couldn’t do better than her,” Sukuna shrugs, getting ready to use Dismantle again. Satoru barely reinforces Limitless at how weirded out he is that he and Sukuna are agreeing on something. “She certainly could do better. My condolences to her though.”

“I know, right?! She’s really great! The best! I’m so—hey! What do you mean by that?!”

“Hey, uhh so,” Satoru rubs the back of his head sheepishly, sunglasses dipping down his nose as he looks down. “Listen. So, Shoko. She’s—”

“Yeah, I know,” Suguru cuts him off.

“You do?”

“I’ve been watching this whole time, idiot. Of course, I know.”

“Pfft. Creep.”

“You’re the creep.” Suguru shoves him and then smiles. Genuinely. Beatifically. “Congratulations.”

“Yeah. Yeah, thanks. I, uh—” Satoru sniffles, and looks away before thinking ‘fuck it!’ and pulling Suguru into the tightest bear hug they’ve ever shared both in the living and the afterlife. “I wish you could be there, man,” he chokes out.

“Me too,” Suguru answers. His voice breaks at the end and his eyes are shiny when they pull apart. “Take care of each other, yeah?”

“I’ve been trying, but you know how she is, dude! Swear to god she only listens to you,” Satoru grumbles as he rolls his eyes and Suguru chuckles. “Well. I’ll head for North for now.”

“Yeah. You kept her waiting and worried long enough. Good luck with that, man.”

“Tch. Don’t remind me. I’ll be lucky if she still hasn’t changed her mind.”

“She hasn’t,” Suguru assures him, all-knowing. “See you later, Satoru. Tell Shoko I said hi.”

“Yeah. See you later, Suguru.”

Satoru wakes up to the blinding fluorescent light and the familiar sterilized smell of the school's infirmary.

“Hey,” Shoko comes into his line of vision and Satoru smiles. What a sight for sore eyes. “Welcome back.”

“I’m back,” he croaks as he nuzzles into the palm caressing his face and the familiar curse energy it’s emitting. “I talked to Suguru while I was out. He says hi.”

“You did, huh? Only took him this long to check in on me and he even had to do it with a proxy? Bastard.” Shoko smirks and rolls her eyes in jest. Then her expression softens into a small smile, eyes losing their sharp edges as she looks down at Satoru and runs a hand through his unruly grimy hair. “Scared me there for a second. Thought I went all the trouble to buy a ring for nothing.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Oh? You talked to Suguru and suddenly you got a change of heart? Tch. Men. Figures.” She still hasn’t let go of him, touch ever soft and gentle as she continues to run healing hands over him, pumping him with her reverse cursed technique and breathing life into him. “That’s fine, I suppose. The ring is still well within the 30-day return period anyway.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. What the hell? You think you’d get out of it that easily? Fat chance, lady. I just…” Satoru takes one of her hands in his. “I don’t want all the trimmings. Just ask me now, Shoko.”

“You sure? Infirmary’s full so we’re in the morgue right now, you know? So. Not very romantic. And neither of us has showered in days and I literally just put you back together. Are you—”

“I don’t care.” Satoru brings her hand up to his lips. “Shoko, I really don’t care.” A giddy smile spreads on his face and is mirrored by her even as she purses her lips to contain it. “Ask me now, Shoko.”

“Tch. So impatient. And to think I made all the reservations and ordered flowers too. I even had a speech typed up and memorized.”

“Oh, shut up. As if you did. Cut to the chase already, Ieiri.”

“Gojo Satoru, I’m giving you a lifetime pass to be a pain in my ass. So,” Shoko gets the velvet box from the pocket of her lab coat, ignores Satoru’s delighted crow of ‘Has that been there the whole time?!’, and smiles when he hears him gasp as she kneels on one knee in the infirmary’s linoleum floors. “Wanna get hitched?"

Satoru thinks about fooling around, of making a quip or two as he is wont to do.

But Shoko is kneeling on one knee and her hands are pink and red stained with his blood as she holds up the ring she had customized and infused with her cursed energy so everyone can know who Satoru belongs to. Her eyes are bloodshot and bruised, evidence of the long hours she spent breathing life back into him. There’s a tired but soft smile on her face, and she is so, so beautiful.

In the end, the only thing that came out of Satoru was a breathy ecstatic, “Yes.”

notes: satoru's ring | shoko's ring

#satoru buys shoko a matching ring made of diamonds and sapphires because of course he does #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #satoshoko #satosho #gojo satoru #ieiri shoko #satoshoko fic #jjk fic #writing

12 notes · View notes

unpredictable-probabilities · 10 months

Text

Granting Favors 14 - Dances and Darkness

Summary:

The day after accidentally hugging Azul, Jamil learns about an upcoming party at the Cultural Festival. As he wonders how he could ever bring himself to ask Azul out, someone in the VDC team slowly starts to crack . . .

Word Count: 5,129

Author's Note:

Finally an update after five months!! Thank you all so much for waiting! :'>

And thank you so much to @patchyegg87 for helping me with editing this chapter. I hadn't written for this fic in so long that it was a little difficult to get back into the rhythm of it, and I'm very grateful for her help~

I hope you enjoy this chapter! <3

(more notes at the end)

——

Jamil opened his eyes, seeing the unmistakable purple-silver of Azul’s hair. How long had he been pressing his face against it? Did he do anything else while he was asleep? Did he talk?

He took a breath to calm himself. What’s more important right now was to move away from Azul without waking him up. Azul didn’t even mean to fall asleep here last night; what if he woke up to Jamil hugging him from behind and accused him of being a creep?

Very slowly, Jamil lifted his arm from Azul’s waist, and moved away inch by inch until he got off the bed and stood unsteadily on the floor. He turned to get his phone from the nightstand and turn off his alarm, but he moved too quickly and his hand hit the lamp.

He caught it before it could fall, but the thing was so old and fragile that the lampshade and lightbulb got detached and fell to the floor. There was a crunch as the lightbulb cracked.

“Damn, that was my only light,” he cursed softly. The main lightbulb on the ceiling tended to flicker at random times, so he preferred to use the lamp whenever he needed light in the room, but it looked like that wouldn’t be possible now.

He steadied what remained of the lamp, then picked up the fallen lamp shade and lightbulb and put them back on the nightstand. He’d check later if the bulb would still work.

His phone lit up and the alarm rang. He felt an instinctive panic for a second, but reminded himself that it was alright now for Azul to wake up since he had moved away from him already.

He turned off the alarm as Azul began to stir on the bed. The Octavinelle Prefect sat up and blinked slowly, looking around in confusion. When his eyes landed on Jamil, realization dawned on his face.

“Oh dear,” Azul said and quickly got down from the bed and stood up, smoothing out his clothes. “I apologize, I didn’t mean to fall asleep here and take up space on your bed.”

Azul reached up to fix his hair, and Jamil tried not to stare as his fingers ran through those soft locks that he had been nuzzling just minutes ago.

“Your glasses are here,” Jamil said to distract himself. He picked them up from his nightstand and handed them to Azul.

Azul took the glasses and wore them. “I hope I wasn’t too much of a bother.”

“No,” Jamil shook his head. “I fell asleep almost immediately after you did.”

“You could have woken me up, you know,” Azul said as he took his backpack from the floor.

Jamil crossed his arms. “You rarely go to sleep early, I wasn’t gonna ruin it. Now let's go downstairs before Vil accuses me of oversleeping."

They went down to the lounge and ran into Yuu holding a cup of what looked like hot chocolate.

"Oh hey, guys! I didn't know you were still here," Yuu said to Azul.

"Ah, yes, I had accidentally fallen asleep while working on our project." Azul adjusted his glasses. "I hope I had not overstayed my welcome."

"Of course not! You're welcome to stay over anytime," Yuu smiled and headed to the kitchen.

"I should get going," Azul glanced at his watch. "Thank you for letting me stay the night."

"No problem. Our next schedule to work on the project is at lunch, right?" Jamil asked. They had two hours of lunchbreak and they decided to use most of it for their project.

"Yes, after Alchemy," Azul replied.

Jamil nodded. "Right, I'll see you then."

Azul tipped his head politely and smiled before heading out the door.

Jamil went to shower and stood under the water for a while, hoping the cold would help his mind forget what he had done in his sleep last night.

—

Morning classes went by without much trouble. They fortunately had less workload because of the upcoming festival; the teachers were busy preparing for it, too. He just had Alchemy left then it would be lunchtime.

A colorful poster on the bulletin board caught his eye, it was made by the Film Appreciation Club advertising the party they would be holding at the festival.

Jamil recalled how the senior members of the club had visited their Magical History class earlier to announce the event, explaining that it would have a buffet and a dance floor. He didn't think much of it, until after the club members left and his classmates started whispering about who they were going to take as dates to the dance.

He didn't know why, but his eyes had instinctively sought out Azul a few seats away from him, though Azul was busy continuing to answer the seatwork that got interrupted by the event announcement.

Now that he had seen the poster, questions nagged at the back of his mind. Should he ask Azul to the party? Would Azul even want to go at all, considering he didn't like eating a lot or dancing?

Anyway, the festival was still several days away, so he had a lot of time to think about whether he should ask Azul. He wasn't too worried about someone else asking him. Most of the students still found the Octavinelle Prefect intimidating; Jamil couldn't imagine any of them having the guts to ask Azul to go with them to such an event.

It was at the end of Alchemy when he realized he might be proven wrong.

They were all packing up their things after Professor Crewel dismissed them, and Jamil overheard a particular conversation a few seats behind him.

"Are you guys going to that party by the Film Club?"

"I dunno, not really into dance parties."

"I should like to go, yes. And I'm planning to snag myself a handsome date to go with me."

Normally Jamil didn't care for conversations that he wasn't a part of, but something about that person's smug and confident tone made him glance over.

His fellow Second Year had a Pomefiore armband, but he couldn't remember his name at the moment. More importantly, though, was where he was looking.

Jamil followed his gaze and saw Azul by the shelves, double-checking the test tubes for cracks before returning them to their holders.

The Pomefiore guy stood up, and before he knew it, Jamil was already making his way to Azul.

"Hey," he said when he got behind the Octavinelle Prefect. "Those test tubes look fine. Let's head to the library now."

Jamil subtly looked over at the Pomefiore student. He was caught up in conversation with another friend, but he was much nearer to them now. At any moment he would be reaching Azul.

"Just making sure," Azul said, putting the last test tube back on the rack. "I wouldn't want to get blamed for cracked test tubes when Professor checks the equipment."

The conversation close behind Jamil seemed to be ending already, and he found himself tapping his foot restlessly while waiting for Azul to be ready to leave.

"Alright, everything looks good," Azul said, adjusting his glasses. "Shall we?"

Jamil exhaled a sigh of relief. "Yeah."

He started pushing Azul toward the exit, joining the flow of students who were in a hurry to leave and get lunch.

Jamil kept glancing over his shoulder while they walked, and fortunately they lost the Pomefiore guy among the bigger crowd of students in the hallway.

"Well, I'd never seen you be so eager to go to the library before," Azul said with mild surprise on his face.

Jamil realized that he still had his palms pressed against Azul's back, gently pushing him to move forward.

He immediately let go and took a step back.

"Uh, yeah. We'd be working there for about two hours and I wanna get a good seat since we'd be staying that long," Jamil lied through his teeth. Their seating wasn't really his priority at the moment.

Azul nodded thoughtfully. "Good point. We should head to the more spacious tables before other students take them."

They headed to the library and took a seat near the back where the couches and bigger tables were.

Blueprints and notebooks were scattered on their table, and they had been working for about half an hour when a voice spoke.

"Azul, I had hoped to find you here."

Jamil looked up to see the smiling face of the Pomefiore Second Year.

This time Jamil remembered his name. He recalled it because of the way that his dark brown hair was combed more properly than it had been at Alchemy–Jamil could swear that it even had a subtle shine to it now–and he had replaced his school uniform jacket with a fancier-looking blue and white coat.

Hansel Finnegan of the Southern Isles. The bastard had dressed up for the occasion of asking Azul out.

"Hansel," Azul said in surprise, straightening up into a more formal posture. "To what do I owe this visit?"

"Please," Hansel elegantly waved a hand. "You know you can call me Hans."

Something about the way he said it reminded Jamil of another guy wearing fancy clothes.

"Please, just 'Rielle' would be fine."

It did not help his irritation.

Hansel smoothly sat across from Azul, not even acknowledging Jamil's existence. "I came here because I wanted to know if Mostro Lounge would be catering the Film Club's event. You know how much I adore your dishes."

Azul raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Really now? Then shouldn't you be having lunch at Mostro Lounge?"

Hansel chuckled. "I did go there just now, but they said you weren't in, and I wanted to speak with you personally."

"Oh?" Azul said with interest. "I should tell you that I don't do my usual contracts anymore, but I'm sure we can come up with an arrangement," he said with his polished businessman smile.

Jamil wanted to thwack him in the head with a rolled-up blueprint. He really thought Hansel was after him for business?

"Wonderful," Hansel said sweetly. "An 'arrangement' sounds too formal, but would you—"

"Azul," Jamil said a little too loudly.

Both of them turned to Jamil, looking startled.

"Yes?" Azul asked.

"Do you wanna go to the party with me?" he blurted out. He stopped breathing and his hand clenched his pencil tightly as he held Azul's gaze.

Azul's eyes widened and a faint pink colored his cheeks. "I—" he cleared his throat and assumed a more neutral facial expression. "Yes, I would like that."

"Cool," Jamil said lamely, feeling his heart thumping in his chest.

Azul turned back to Hansel. "Now, where were we? It's currently not my business hours so I can only spare you a bit of time, but you can come back to my office at Mostro Lounge later after classes."

Jamil relished the glare that Hansel was giving him. Yeah, now you notice me, asshole, he didn't bother to hide his smirk.

Hansel's expression soured, then he turned back to Azul. "No, never mind."

He stood up to leave, but looked at Azul one more time. "It has been nice speaking with you. Have fun with your… friend." He looked at Jamil pointedly then walked away.

"What was that about?" Azul asked him quietly after Hansel disappeared out of their sight.

"Who knows," Jamil glanced down at the blueprint he was working on. "Hansel had always been a weird guy."

"I wasn't referring to him."

Jamil looked up at Azul again and saw that he was raising his eyebrow curiously.

"What?" Jamil tried to sound neutral.

"Don't play dumb, Viper, it doesn't suit you." Azul shook his head. "Why suddenly ask me to the party in the middle of a conversation with someone else?"

"Oh I'm sorry," Jamil's voice was sharp with sarcasm. "You didn't want your conversation with the pretty boy to be interrupted? Well he interrupted us first, just showing up in the middle of our work."

Azul's lips pressed together in a hard line and he turned away from Jamil, continuing on writing in his notebook as if nothing happened.

Jamil felt sick to his stomach. He hadn't meant to lash out like that, but everything happened too fast and he instinctively felt defensive.

"Because I wanted to go with you," he mumbled, feeling his face warm.

"What?" Azul looked at him in surprise, as if he wasn't expecting Jamil to speak again so soon.

Jamil averted his eyes, and he couldn't help the frown on his face. "I wanted to go with you, and if I hadn't asked you when I did, Hansel would have beaten me to it."

"Hansel was going to ask me to the party?" Azul sounded genuinely confused.

Jamil looked at him and his frown deepened. "Wow, you really are oblivious, huh?"

Azul shook his head dismissively. "If Hansel were indeed going to ask me to go to the party with him, it would be because he wants to flaunt me to his friends. He did the same thing last year when he took Kristoff Andersen to Mostro Lounge's grand opening. He merely wants arm candy, he doesn't like me."

"And how would you know? You can never tell when people like you," Jamil said irritably.

Azul frowned. "How was I supposed to know that about Rielle? We rarely interacted in school, it didn't make sense."

I'm not talking about Prince Rielle, you blind octopus, Jamil barely stopped himself from saying.

"Whatever," he shook his head and cleared away their previous sketches on the table to make more space. "Let's just get back to work."

"I wouldn't have gone with Hansel, anyway," Azul said quietly, turning a page in his notebook and continuing to write. "Even if he asked me."

Jamil looked at him. His thoughts were overlapping, and he couldn't grasp what words he should say next.

He took a breath and remembered Rook's advice.

Honest, honest. Come on.

"Well I'm… glad you wanna go with me," his voice faded out so much that he wasn't sure if Azul had heard him.

He pursed his lips and went to label the parts in the blueprints, like what he should have been doing instead of all these distractions.

"Admittedly, I'm surprised you asked me," Azul turned to him. "I wouldn't have thought that going to such events was something you'd like to do."

"It sounded fun when the Film Club members were announcing it," Jamil said, even though he barely remembered the details. "And if it turns out to be false advertising, I can always entertain myself by watching you complain about the food presentation."

A smile pulled at the corner of Azul's mouth. "So you're bringing me along as your personal entertainer?"

Jamil shrugged. "Things are always more fun when you're there with me."

Azul looked surprised for a moment, then he chuckled and adjusted his glasses.

Jamil realized that Azul was trying to hide the hint of pink that had dusted his cheeks.

If being honest would get such reactions out of Azul, then Jamil could get used to it much easier.

"Consider me honored," Azul said playfully and went back to writing in his notebook.

Jamil should get back to work as well, instead he found himself staring.

The library's soft lighting highlighted Azul's features; the way his forehead was furrowed slightly in concentration, his eyelashes that subtly reflected the light whenever he blinked, the slope of his neck.

Jamil forced himself to turn back to the blueprint, fighting a smile at the thought that Azul chose him over Hansel Finnegan.

—

They were on a break from rehearsals, and Jamil was walking down the corridors of Pomefiore. He didn’t have a destination in mind, but it was nice to just be alone for a while in the quiet of the dorm, especially after what just happened.

Their breaktime would be longer than usual, considering that two of their group members had walked out. Rook had followed Deuce, but Jamil had no idea if that helped at all.

“That little potato doesn’t appreciate my efforts at all,” Vil’s offended voice said quietly from around the corner.

Jamil stopped in his tracks.

“Now, now, it isn’t like that, mon étoile,” Rook’s voice says reassuringly. "Our little Pommette might just be getting overwhelmed by it all. Unlike you, my dear, he's not used to being in the spotlight with such expectations."

Vil huffed, but didn't contradict him.

"He wants to be strong, yes? Then you only need to explain how his inherent adorableness would help him achieve that," Rook said optimistically.

"I'm not sure I even have the patience for any more explaining," Vil replied, irritation evident in his voice.

"Why don't you get some rest for a few minutes?" Rook said gently. "It wouldn't hurt to take some time to yourself for a while, everyone else is resting for now."

"I can't be just like everyone else, Rook," Vil snaps, the bite sharp in his voice. "Not if I want to defeat Neige."

Jamil had never heard Vil speak like that before, especially not to Rook.

Cautiously, Jamil stepped forward and peeked around the corner. He saw Vil's face and instinctively held his breath.

The Pomefiore Prefect's beautiful features were twisted in an expression that seemed to run deeper than anger, something almost disturbing that made goosebumps appear on Jamil's arms.

A casual observer might not notice anything strange from Rook's stance, but Jamil could see that he was leaning away from Vil ever so subtly. Rook, whom he had never known to be afraid or even shy away from anything.

Rook blinked and put on his usual smile. "Then how about you post that photo of you drinking the apple juice that Epel's family had sent us? You had been planning to do that this afternoon, right? Perhaps when our dear Epel finds out that you like the product that his family sent, it might soften him up a little and you two would be able to have a proper chat?"

“Fine,” Vil huffed, his expression mellowing under Rook's calm voice. “I might as well be productive while on this break. Posting on MagiCam would give our team more online presence."

Jamil could hear Vil’s high heels clicking against the floor as he walked away.

He took a breath and stepped into the next corridor.

“Ah, monsieur!” Rook greeted him cheerfully as if nothing amiss had happened. “On your way to the cafeteria?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jamil said, even though he didn’t really have a destination in mind. “Is… Vil okay?” he asked hesitantly.

“Of course,” Rook nodded reassuringly. “He and Epel do get into arguments sometimes, but it’s nothing that they cannot resolve eventually.”

“Has it ever been that bad before?” Jamil furrowed his eyebrows.

Rook hesitated for the briefest moment, and worry flickered across his eyes, but he hid it with a bright smile. “Don’t worry anymore about the both of them, I shall personally make sure that they are on good terms again before this day is up. How about you, then? How is Monsieur de l’Effort?”

“Oh, um…” Jamil looked down at his feet as he and Rook walked along the corridor. “We had lunch. It was… nice.”

He kept his eyes averted, as if Rook could guess just by looking at him that he and Azul had slept in the same bed last night. Again. And Jamil had woken up with Azul in his arms.

Great Seven. He could feel his face warm just at the memory of it.

“Merveilleux,” Rook beamed at him. “So you have decided to spend more time with him after all?”

“Yeah,” Jamil nodded. “He seems to like spending time with me too, anyway, so…” he trailed off and clenched his teeth to keep himself from smiling.

Rook gasped dramatically. “And how did you come to such a conclusion? I want to hear everything!"

"Well, uh…" Jamil wasn't sure if he should tell Rook, but everyone's gonna know anyway once he and Azul show up together. "I asked him to go with me to the Film Club's party, and he said yes…"

"C'est génial !" Rook was practically glowing. "I'm going to that party myself, and I am just sure it's going to be absolutely beautiful!"

Rook starts to ramble about the party details that he helped the club with, but Jamil was only half-listening, his thoughts occupied with his obviously growing feelings for Azul, Rook's worry that he was trying so hard to hide, and Vil's features morphing into a visage that even Vil himself wouldn't call beautiful.

—

"Something on your mind?" Azul asked Jamil sitting across from him, trying to keep his tone casual.

Jamil had barely spoken since they started working on their project in the Ramshackle lounge, and he had a look about him that showed something was weighing on his mind. Now that the lounge was empty except for the two of them, Azul hoped Jamil would feel comfortable enough to confide in him.

He blinked distractedly at Azul. “Sorry. I just…” his forehead seemed to crease with worry. “Vil seems even more stressed out lately. And not even only during rehearsals when we make mistakes, but even when he’s alone and there’s no one to scold.”

Azul waited patiently for Jamil to continue. He had a feeling that there was more to the story; if it were only as simple as Vil being stressed by VDC pressures, Jamil wouldn’t look so worried.

“I don’t know, I just have a bad feeling…” Jamil shook his head.

“What is it?” Azul gently encourages. He didn’t want Jamil to just dismiss his worries, especially if it was something that was affecting him this much.

“Vil has a sort of… dark aura around him these days, whenever he gets upset,” Jamil's gaze looked distant.

"Dark aura?" Azul furrowed his eyebrows.

Jamil shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "At first I thought it was just stress from the competition, but earlier he had this big fight with Epel, and afterwards he was like a different person. Even Rook seemed scared of him. And his face…" he felt a chill down his spine just thinking about it. He looked at Azul, waiting for him to understand.

Azul’s face went slack in realization. “You don’t think…?”

“I don’t know,” Jamil mumbled, looking lost.

Azul tapped his pen on the table, and it was a few moments before he spoke again. “I was afraid this might happen," he muttered.

Jamil looked at him, a frown creasing his forehead. “What do you mean?”

Azul looked around to make sure that the lounge was still empty. Still, he leaned forward and lowered his voice.

“All four Overblots happened within an interval of mere weeks,” he explained. “It has almost been a month after yours, which means, hypothetically… the next one is right around the corner.”

The lounge seemed to get colder as his words hung in the air; a sense of foreboding weighed down the atmosphere, and for a few moments everything was still, as if the very room was holding its breath.

“Are you sure that the others Overblotted?” Jamil asked. “They could just be rumors.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

Azul nodded grimly. “I had Jade and Floyd look into it after my Overblot. It’s true, both Riddle and Leona Overblotted. And apart from the consistent intervals, there was another pattern. Until you, everyone who Overblotted was a Prefect. I wonder if it’s because we’re more powerful than the other residents, and therefore more susceptible to Blot. It would also explain why you Overblotted instead of Kalim. Between the both of you, you’re the one who has more magical energy.”

Jamil was looking at Azul with mild surprise.

Azul averted his eyes. “I had thought about it a lot after you Overblotted. I wanted to understand it. I kept wondering if there was anything I could have done to have prevented it from happening to you but…”

“Hey,” Jamil said softly. “That’s done, okay? There’s no use beating ourselves up over what’s already happened.”

Azul nodded and stayed quiet. It was something that he thought he could leave behind, but now it seemed like they couldn’t just forget about it.

“You… really wanted to know if you could have prevented my Overblot?” Jamil asked uncertainly. “Why would you still agonize over that? Is it because you already suspected that it might happen again to someone else?”

Azul let out a humorless chuckle. “Ah, my reasons were not nearly as noble. No, I wasn’t trying to figure out a way to prevent the next one. I just wanted to be absolutely sure if there really was nothing that I could have done to protect you from it. Because if there was something but I failed to do so…” he sighed. “I cannot allow myself to make that mistake again.”

Jamil stared at Azul. “Why do you care about me so much?” he asked in bewilderment.

Azul met his gaze. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Jamil seemed at a loss for words, and before he could think of anything to say, Azul cleared his throat.

“Anyway,” he began, sitting up straighter and trying to compensate for whatever vulnerability he had shown earlier. “Even if it is true that another Overblot is at hand, it is still not certain if it would be Vil. We need more information.”

“Yeah,” Jamil nodded, though the notion that someone else besides Vil might Overblot wasn’t exactly reassuring.

“I can put Jade and Floyd to work in keeping tabs on Vil,” Azul said. “They’ve seen two Overblots already and they might notice the signs, if there are any.”

“I should talk to Yuu,” Jamil realized. “They’ve seen four Overblots already, right? If anyone can figure it out, it’ll be them.”

“Right. I’ll review my notes on Overblots and look into it myself,” Azul said, eyebrows furrowed in thought.

Azul stretched his neck from side to side and massaged the back of it as he looked over their project designs. Jamil noticed the exhaustion in his eyes and wondered if he had taken a break today at all, what with the booth preparations for the Mostro Lounge and the Board Game Club, and now their project.

Jamil looked at the setting sun outside the window, then started tidying up their things.

"Let's just continue this tomorrow," he said as he put his notebook in his backpack.

Azul frowned and looked at his watch. "According to our schedule, we still have half an hour left."

"Uh-huh, and when was the last time you took a break today since waking up?" Jamil raised an eyebrow.

Azul pursed his lips and averted his gaze. It almost looked like a pout, and Jamil had to suppress a smile.

"I thought so," Jamil said. "Can't have you passing out on a desk again at some point. We made a lot of progress today, I bet we can get this more than halfway done by tomorrow."

He picked up their empty teacups and stood up to place them in the sink.

"Fine," Azul relents, tidying up the blueprints. "I'll be going over to Sam's shop on my way back to Octavinelle to pick up more materials for this. Shall I get a new lightbulb for your lamp while I'm there?"

"Nah it's okay," Jamil said, raising his voice a little as he entered the kitchen. "I'm not sure if it's broken anyway, and I can probably fix it–" he froze as the realization struck him.

He placed the cups on the sink and hurriedly went back to the lounge where Azul had finished tidying up and was standing by the table.

"How did you know I might need a new lightbulb?" Jamil squinted at him.

Azul stopped midway through buttoning up his coat. "Well, um…"

Jamil had mentioned his possibly broken lightbulb exactly once, right after he had gotten out of bed that morning when he realized what he'd done in his sleep…

"You were awake?!" he yelled, his eyes widening as warmth rapidly started rising to his cheeks.

"I-I'm sorry!" Azul said defensively. "I figured it was an accident so I didn't wanna say anything–"

"What are you apologizing for, you idiot?!" Jamil turned around and put his hoodie up, his face burning as he crossed his arms and glared at the floor. "I should be the one apologizing."

"Jamil, it's fine," Azul said reassuringly. "I'd only been awake for less than a minute before you let go of me, and it isn't like you harmed me in any way."

Jamil stayed quiet. Maybe if he just didn't say anything, Azul would leave already.

"Oh come now," Azul said in a slightly playful tone. "You were quick to reserve me for the dance but you're embarrassed of an accidental hug?"

Jamil whipped around to glare at him. "I asked you about the dance, but not the hug. I never would have done that without your consent–" his face burned as he realized what he had said. Did he just admit that he'd hug Azul if he let him?

He turned his back again and pulled his hood down even lower, tensing up to stay rooted in place and spare himself the indignity of running out of the room.

He heard Azul's quiet footsteps approaching him, and before he could guess what was about to happen, Azul's arms wrapped around him, his chin resting on Jamil's shoulder.

"There, we're even now," Azul said softly, speaking just on the other side of Jamil's hoodie. "So you don't have to feel so bad about it."

Jamil's eyes had gone wide, and he seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. Azul's hold on him was loose; he could easily push him off if he wanted to. But Jamil was too focused on Azul's warmth, his chest pressing enough against Jamil's back that he could feel the merman's thundering heartbeat in sync with his own.

Azul let go of him and took a few steps backward. "Anyway, I shall be getting back to my dorm now."

Jamil stayed frozen in place as Azul's footsteps faded away and he heard the door open and close.

—

Azul quickly walked away from Ramshackle as soon as the door closed behind him. He must have gone mad, suddenly hugging Jamil like that. But truth be told, he didn't regret it at all. Hugging Jamil felt just as nice as being hugged by him. He could only hope that Jamil didn't resent him for it.

His face still felt warm as he made his way over to Sam's shop, deciding to buy a spare lightbulb along with the other materials.

——

Author's Note:

I'd been writing an AshenViper AU (where Azul ended up in RSA instead of NRC) with @patchyegg87, which is part of the reason why this fic took so long to update.

We had already written around 10 chapters of it already, so we'll just be editing the first chapter and posting it tomorrow, hopefully. After that, we aim to post a chapter of it every week~

Anyway, thank you for reading! ^_^

——

<- Chapter 13

(Masterlist)

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artzychic27 · 10 months

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Headcanon’s about DC Kids AU: Aurore’s hero name would be Whirlpool. Cosette’s would be Buzz Kill. Zoe’s realtionship with her blood siblings in a nutshell: “If I have a Penny for each half sibling that is only a few months older than me and is a jerk, I would have 2 Pennies. It’s not much, but weird that happened twice”. Mireille screamed at Volpina during a battle to make her illusions disappear.

Okay, let's do this!

Zoé: 'Sup, dick?

Dick: I can hear you using lowercase 'D,' you basic-ass blonde.

Zoé: Jealous I got a hot girlfriend and Starfire met someone else? Yeah, fuck you, dick.

Jean: Okay, okay! If you guys had to choose your superhero names... What would they be?!

Simon: Kid Quick.

Denise: Really?

Simon: Kid Flash is taken.

Ismael: Krypto-Kid.

Aurore: Okay, not bad. Simon, take notes. I'd go by Whirlpool.

Cosette: Can't decide between AC/DC, Buzz Kill, or Voltage. There's just too many electricity puns!

Zoé: I am the night. I am the vengeance. I am... Still thinking of something other than Robin.

Mireille: Hey, Volpina!

Volpina Illusions: What?!

Mireille: *Screams, causing the illusions to disappear when they're hit by the strong soundwaves, revealing the real Volpina who's going to have tinnitus for real*

*Still coming up with names*

Simon: Uh... Lightning Run?

Cosette: The electricity-based stuff is mine.

Simon: Ugh! This is hard! Marc, you go!

Marc: Would my Tamaranean-translated name suffice?

Aurore: Depends. What is it?

Marc: Myzan'r.

Jean: I like it!

Simon: Aw, come on!

Simon: Anyone want Japanese food for lunch?

Ismael: Sure.

Denise: I could eat.

Mireille: Pick me up some onigiri.

Simon: Be right back. *Dashes off, then returns seconds later with five bags in his hands* Guess who had time to grab mochi!

Kiran: Marc! Do the thing! Do the thing!

Marc: Okay, come here!

Nathaniel: What thing?

Marc: *Holding Kiran* Ready... Set... *Throws Kiran high into the air*

Nathaniel: ...

Marc: ... *Catches Kiran back in his arms* Nathaniel, would you like to try?

Nathaniel: *Backs away* No.

Ismael, Denise, and Marc can deadlift the Eiffel Tower like it's nothing

While on the phone, Aurore walked into the pool without a second thought and resumed her conversation for about ten minutes. It baffled Kim and Ondine for weeks

Lacey LOVES getting head pats. It's even better when she turns into a cat

Sometimes Jean talks in reverse without even thinking, and inadvertently casts a few spells

Whenever sunspots occur, Cosette's powers go haywire and create an electrical aura around her. It's best to keep your distance for a few hours... Or days

Denise doesn't even need the Lasso of Truth. Just one glare from them can have any pour soul spilling their guts

So she’s not blowing everyone’s eardrums out by stress-screaming, Mireille took up boxing to get her anger out

Tamaranean puberty can start at any age. For Marc, it started when he was fifteen, and he spent the week covering his face with his hood

Aurore: Marc, I'm sure it's not that bad.

Marc: *Crying* Yes, it is! I look like a raw glorkaroach!

Denise: Hon, you're probably blowing this all out of proportion. Now, let's see that darling face, and- *Marc pulls down his hood* Oh! Oh, Athena! That is not right!... *Pulls Marc's hood back up and pats his head* Yeah, just... Keep that on.

Marc: *Cries again*

Their outfits have some elements of their hero parents

Aurore’s skirts and tops have gold fish scales, and she has trident earrings

Mireille manages to make leather and sweaters work with each other. She also has a lot of fishnets

It’s not rare to see stars embroidered on Denise’s skirts

Marc often wears purple and jewelry made from metals found on Tamaran

Simon wears more warm colors and a few of his shirts have The Flash’s logo embroidered on it

Cosette’s color schemes usually consist of blue, yellow, white, and black

Zoé’s got a lot of black with some hints of yellow. There’s no way in hell she’s going out in Robin colors again

Ismael’s cardigan is a brighter shade of blue with red cuffs

A lot of Reshma’s clothes have vine patterns on the sleeves and hems

Lacey wears Beast Boy’s signature shade of purple with some hints of black

Jean dresses all fancy with bow ties, crop jackets, and tiny top hats on a headband

Now as for Jean and Austin’s relationship- Jean often makes Austin’s favorite flowers appear in his locker

Oh, and Austin knows that he and his friends are related to DC heroes. His dad actually came across Zoé’s dad a few times in Gotham before he was put away

They don’t care much for the Marvel heroes

Simon: Darkseid. The most dangerous villain in the universe. Powerful enough to defeat any hero he faces.

Ismael: Even Superman?

Simon: Yes.

Zoé: Batman?

Simon: Yes.

Reshma: Spider-Man?

Simon: Well, Spider-Man wouldn't fight Darkseid.

Marc: Is it because he is too lazy?

Ismael: What a bum!

Lacey: You know, this really lowers my opinion of Spider-Man.

Whenever they go into battle, there’s always this weird sequence with a 40s-era sounding announcer

Assembled in the tenth grade class of Francoise DuPont in Paris are the world's greatest young heroes. Simon! The fastest demiboy on Earth, but needs to improve his endurance. Zoé! He REALLY hates his brothers! Denise! They’ve got bracelets, and a rope! Cosette! A human taser with outdated slang! Lacey! The animal shapeshifter who sometimes eats meat! Jean! A spectacular magician who can talk in reverse and confuse people! Ismael! He successfully managed Superman’s signature curl! Marc! This alien prince is already spoken for, boys! Mireille! She can and will destroy your eardrums! And Aurore! She hates dolphins and finds them to be jerks! Evil-doers beware! These kids are doing things! Everywhere! With their underwear on the outside!

*The DC Kids look around for the source of the voice*

Aurore: Where is that coming from?!

Simon: *Searching through his bag* I-is there like a tape recorder somewhere?

Marc: *Blasts a hole through the wall* Still can’t find it!

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #marc anciel #Zoé Lee #Aurore beauréal #mireille caquet #Jean duparc #mlb ocs #dc comics #answered ask #ask me stuff

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