I wish i could befriend laios dungeon meshi i just know he and i would bond over our shared desire to eat shit other people might find strange

I watched I love you phillip morris and ewan mcgregor was so unexplainably adorable.

I don't know if it was phillip or ewan since I've only seen him play two characters and, obiwan is extremely charming– either way my heart was melting at the sight of this sweetheart of a man,, no because I really understood steven when he just met phillip and declared his love to him on the spot I WOULD HAVE TOO

HE'S WONDERFUL (人´☆∩☆`)｡*ﾟ+*.✧

likE– AWH, BABY–

𝐃𝐀𝐘 1 : 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 ‘23

𐙚 Rafe Camerons!breeding kink

warnings ; smut, breeding kink, f!reader

Rafe who doesn’t love family ‘get togethers’ with a grumpy attitude and noticeable frown :(( maybe their more enjoyable with other families? families who weren’t obsessed with the latter of success and violence? rafe included. it just seemed pointless to him. unnecessary opportunities to argue and manipulate. that’s the only aspects of family he had ever known. until he had met you of course !!

here he was. letting u squeeze your delicate hand over his. fingers enlaced as you two walked down the stairs, into the buzzing yearly Christmas party.

he didn’t want you being there :(( you were like a ray of sunshine — his bubbly, sweet princess. your beaming grin on ur beautiful face was just so pure to him. he felt so overprotective !! letting his angel in the same house same room even as his psycho family just felt so wrong !!

but you convinced him everything would be all right !! he didn’t believe ur sweet words until he found himself leaning against the kitchen counter, listening to petty drama and chatter — he truly hated these kinds of things !! a pounding headache forming in rafes blond head :( his family were truly the humbugs of christmas in his eyes.

he could have sworn your pretty hand was curled in his. until he realized they weren’t, where did u go?? where the fucks his pretty girl? he couldn’t help but panic a bit, this was his crazy family after all !! his blue eyes darting around every room as he frantically looked for you. but rafe was just being protective as always, finally letting himself breathe when he found u upstairs, in the playroom he and Sarah used as kids. now all occupied with his darling little cousins, and you?

rafe was in awe. watching u play dollies with his little cousin darla <3 the brightest smile spread on ur face. simply playing with his lil cousins as ur eyes meet his, sapphire and laced in adoration. giving him a sweet grin. could you be any more angelic? any more beautiful? of course you were drawn to the adorable babies ((: taking not a single notice to his families tension — and letting ur bubbly mind find probably the only bright area of the party !!

u stood up, scurrying over to him as you smooched him a cheeky kiss. “m’ sorry, were you looking for me?”

“I sure was, baby.. your good with kids y’now” why was he smirking? oh !!

it isn’t long before he has you bent over his desk (!! his family still downstairs !!) thick thighs sprawled open as he pounds into ur puffy cunnty !! ur cock drunk lashes fluttering back as ur drooled over mouth let’s out pretty moans !! <3 his deep voice spurring praises like a prayer ‘fuck baby, so fucking’ good with kids’ ‘gonna look so pretty with a baby belly princess’ ‘cummin’ in ur pretty pussy like u fucking deserve’ hes a man of his word. ur gummy walls squeezing his cock as he slams agaisnt ur cervix. thick, warm ropes of cum spurring right into ur womb. how could u not cry out in ectasy? ‘need’ta be quiet’ he groaned. he couldn’t control himself !! u were so warm, so sweet — how could he not fill you with his creamy cum?!— “can’t think of a better gift baby, your gonna be the mother of my baby sweet thing” of course it doesn’t stop after one round !! u’d just look so beautiful with his blond lil baby !! ((:

𖤓 Being married to Lucifer would include 𖤓

Pairing: Lucifer X Reader

Warnings: Mentions of depression and slightly suggestive content. Reader doesn't have a defined gender.

Waking up with morning kisses ❣

• He likes to hug you before you two sleep, is almost funny seeing him trying to be the big spoon when he's so tiny.

• It's no surprise he's a very clingy man, and that would just double when you two got married.

• Kisses aren't limited to morning tho, he'll get any excuse to give you even a peck. Lunch kiss, Goodnight kiss, Afternoon kiss, anything you can think of will be a good time to plant a smooch on your lips.

Eating the best of what Hell has to ofer ❣

• I believe with my whole being that Lucifer is a fenomenal cooker.

• He can bake anything you ask for, doesn't matter what, he will do whatever he can to make it the best meal you ever had.

• You can expect to have breakfast on bed at least once in a week, he'll sit besides you in bed and wait until you finish eating, wings around you and smiling like a idiot because he just adores seeing how happy his cooking makes you feel.

• He will ask you to cook with him too, he especially enjoys baking apple pies and pancakes and will often make cookies shaped like ducks. He sits and waits in front of the oven until it's ready and really enjoys when you also make him company.

Deal with his rubber ducks everywhere ❣

• Lucifer isn't the most organized person, yes, he enjoys doing the cleaning most of the time, but he finds it a hard time making sure all his ducks are in place.

• Sometimes you'll be going normally with your day, walking by the house and suddenly you will step on one of his rubber ducks, making it squeak.

• You tried putting them on a shelf once, making sure they were out of the floor, but in less than a week that shelf would be full because he would just keep making even more ducks and having nowhere to place them.

• His solution to it is to just shove them into his office, making piles and more piles of yellow rubber creatures, they will stay there until you two can think of a better solution.

• He gifted a bunch of those to you as well, you have your own place to put your collection, it's full of duckies themed of things you like, one of them looks like Lucifer, the other looks like you and a smaller one that looks like Charlie, the three of them have a special place and are always together in your collection.

Help him to clean himself ❣

• Sometimes his depression can get the best of him, when it happens he doesn't have the energy to even get out of bed, you'll have to help with all his chores and simple things.

• Help him get up, help him shower, brush his theet, fix his hair, help him get dressed and make sure he eats, sometimes even hygine is hard for him to do alone and the help you give him means the world.

• Also, make sure to tell him that you don't mind helping him, even with menial tasks like those, he's very insecure when these episodes happen and is scared that you might leave him because of them, he doesn't want to be a burden, so tell him how much you appreciate being his partner.

“I'm sorry for making you do this...” he silently says, head resting on your lap as you bursh your hand through his blond hair, it was one of those days and you two were sitting togheter on his office couch, he didn't have the will to do anything today and you had to help him even clean himself up, he felt like shit. “I'm such a piece of trash.”

You shake your head, grabbing his chin and making him look at you, he looks so tired and defeated, and at the same time looks at you like you're the only thing making him less miserable.

“Don't say that Luci, you know I love you a lot don't you? I don't mind helping you when you're feeling down” you move him around, enough to be able to give him a hug, pulling him closer to you so he could be comforted, you hated seeing him like that, you wish he could see how amazing he truly is, see himself the way you see him. “And hey, you were able to brush your theet by yourself today, I'm so proud of you for that.”

He's at verge of tears when he hears you say that, he pulls you closer using his wings, putting his head on your chest. “Thank you so much dear.” He's glad he has someone like you in his life.

Having to deal with bite marks ❣

• Lucifer is... How to put it. Rather possessive.

• But not in a creepy or unhealthy way! No no no, he simply adores you so much he can't help but mark you as his sometimes.

• His sharp theet can make a real number on you, he tries his best to be as gentle as possible, asking your permission before ever biting you anywhere, but he always aims for visible spots.

• Sometimes it makes you so embarrassed that you ask yourself why did you let him bite you in the first place, like when Charlie asked about it once and you had to make the worst excuse ever just to not tell her that her father was the one who did it.

• When you told him about it he just laughed, that made you a little annoyed but he promissed he would be more careful later. (This time he gave you a mark on your thigh before putting his tongue into work)

Hearing about his wishes to form a family ❣

• Man daydreams about forming a family with you, he can't help but just think about how precious it would be for you two, Charlie and a new child to take a new family picture.

• He doesn't force that idea onto you, he drops here and there how much he would love a new child, but if somehow you showed that you were uncomfortable with it he would stop, you and Charlie are enough for him and he won't try to change it for a fantasy.

• But if you want to adopt, probably a Hellhound or even a Imp since there's no human children in Hell, he will absolutely be supportive and be there with you through the adoption progress. He'll make sure to treat the child as his own and give them as much love as they deserve.

• If the adopted child is a girl then? He'll just be the happiest man alive, he's going to spoil her, never want to let her go and will dress her up in every opportunity. He'll for sure cry before you all take a family photo and say how much he loves you and his daughters.

congratulations again, sweetheart! 🤍🤍 you deserve all the recognition you receive and then some! i’m so so excited to send this one in!

prompt: “wait a minute, are you jealous?“ with our beautiful boy eddie munson!

you’ve got me

pairing: eddie munson x (f)reader  warnings: minors dni, literally just fluff, jealousy, established relationship, a tiny touch of angst maybe, mentions of the towns cruelty towards eddie. etc: first off ilysm and let me smooch you, second this boy was made for fluff and softness ok. idc how many smutty things i write for him, he deserves a soft love!!!

The look on his face could kill any enemy, wound any child, make someone walk on the other side of the sidewalk if they saw it—it’s a look you’ve never seen come across his normally soft features. The grumbling that accompanies the look, the “I know they say ignorance is bliss but, seriously? Him?!”

And then it clicks.

“Wait a minute,” you interrupt his continued protests, grab his wrist pulling his attention back over to your table, to you. The deadly scowl gone as he looks at you. Those soft features back. “Are you jealous?” You have to bite back the smile that wants to spread across your face.

“What?” He pulls his wrist from your hold, eyebrows pulling together in a don't-be-ridiculous-glare. “The day I’m jealous of a Hawkins whistleblower will be the same day I get a lobotomy.” He’s making a face as he picks at the food in front of him. There’s a tint of red on his cheeks and you can feel his leg bouncing underneath the table.

He’s totally jealous.

And it was cute, too fucking cute. Because if it was one thing Eddie didn’t have to worry about was someone stealing you away, let alone some jock swaying you to their corner.

You had simply stated that he, the blonde the whole county loved to watch shoot balls into nets, did look better in the new uniforms the school had finally bought. Your eyes had lingered for too long and Eddie had whipped his head around and sent the table a death glare.

The kids sat behind your table cowering at the abrupt mean look and ranting, and raving, that had been almost shouted out across the cafeteria to the aforementioned blonde.

This was the first time you had seen him jealous and you kind of…loved it.

The way his eyes keep flashing up at yours and then back down to his food nervously as he tries his best to put on that mean poker face he uses when he’s playing Dnd—the most unconvincing thing you’ve ever seen, but still the most adorable.

“Eddie,” you say his name so soft, so sweet that you can see the way he melts from it. How his shoulders relax, how his leg stops bouncing. And when you reach over to wrap your arms around his neck, he’s still not smiling, still has that grumpy look on his brows and it makes you smile. “You make jealousy look hot.” You joke, give him your best teasing look.

And that’s what makes him smile. What finally cracks the veil of torture he’s putting himself through mentaly, thinking you’re going to run into the arms of a jock.

You’re leaning closer and placing a kiss to his cheek, “I’m yours, Munson. Men in tights aren’t really my thing.”

Wrong sport, you know. But it makes you laugh when he says, “I could make them work.”

You sigh dreamily, making a show of looking up as if you’re imagining it. “Yeah, just rip some holes in them, muck them up a bit, so sexy.”

Eddie’s laughing against your lips when you press yours to his in a chaste kiss. It had taken him a whole year, and a couple business days, for him to even allow you to hold his hand in public, let alone kiss him. Public displays of affection were something he couldn’t wrap his head around. But constant belittling might do that to you, make you think no one would want to be seen with you.

Which makes this situation—as adorable as it was—bittersweet.

When a whole town tells you you’re a freak and you’re made to feel like one. Undesirable and looked at under a microscope of cruel words because people were ignorant, it was hard to believe when affections were real or just a joke.

But this was real. Your love for Eddie. It always had been and it always would be.

“I love you,” you whisper. Brush hair away from his cheek to place your palm there. “Y’know that right?”

He nods, lips pressed in a tight affectionate smile.

“Gross. Get a room!” Mike is gagging from down the table.

Before you can send the kid a scowl there's a handful of pretzels being thrown at him by Eddie, making the group of you laugh.

Could you please make one about Ghost X reader

Ghost treated reader badly as trying to prove she doesn't get his attention , like ignore her in front of others when she asks about work related stuff nothing personal..

And over time she genuinely starts hating him ... And once she hates someone she never goes back and completely ignore them and forget about them .. and this pisses Ghost and makes him angry ...

Okay, part 2 will be released soon, promise, this is a bit different, but part 2 will be make better sense smooches you on the forehead

CW: SMUT, Simon being an asshole, fingering, breeding, simon having a humiliation kink, simon refusing to admit he likes you, just simon.

You never liked begging someone for their attention—too prideful, too confident in yourself to be asking, fuck, or downright begging someone to give you a bit of their time.

But your pride seems to tarnish the moment you had a chance to sleep with the man that you’ve been shamelessly flirting with for months now.

You looked up at his brown eyes, glaring down at you. His breathing is heavy, his chest rising and falling as he has your hands trapped in one of his, pinned against the wall.

“This is what you want, wanted?” Ghost muttered out, roughly smushing your cheeks to force you to look up at him, your eyebrows furrowed, not even knowing what he’s referring to.

“You like throwing yourself at everyone, don’t you? Hm?” He began, the hand that pinned your hands to the wall now forcing you to be thrown into his bed. You couldn’t even get the chance to think before his large, muscular arms were holding you down on his bed, the sound of springs bending under your weights, your breath becoming shallow and quick.

His rough hand feeling up your side, fingers pressing into every dip on your figure, his free hand coming up to his face, lifting his mask to show a scarred lower part of his face, his strong jaw lettered with some blonde hairs, his messy, sharp teeth shining as he pulled his lips into a smirk, but it wasn’t a mischievous smirk or a funny one; this one felt... hungry? That was the only way you could describe it, paired with that look in his eyes.

This man was ready to devour you whole, and you wanted him to more than anything else. Your brain is now filled with thoughts of what he’ll do to you right now, completely forgetting the previous question you had.

“Strip, get on all fours, sergeant,” your lieutenant demanded. All you could do was nod and follow his orders; he doesn’t seem to change, just standing there, towering over you as his gaze stays stuck on your now-bare skin.

As you take the final piece off, your underwear, you get interrupted.

“Hand those over,” he said as he let his large palm out, beckoning you to put the now damp piece of clothing in his hand. You were reluctant, not elbowing what he’s going to do. This man is the true meaning of the word enigma.

After placing the pair in his hand, his fingers played with the fabric as he bit his lower lip, his eyes never leaving your figure as you lay on the bed, ass up with your pretty head in the pillows. You hated this habit, but you loved smelling his scent, whether it’s when he’s sparring with you, ‘helping’ you with paper work—he’s just bullying you—or on the first day when he wrapped his muscular arms around you to help you learn how to shoot a gun—like you didn’t know already.

And his sheets—oh, his sheets—were filled with his scent. At first, it was disgusting, but with how stupidly attracted to this man you are, the smell of sweat, gun powder, and cum

Ugh, this man is disgusting, and you’re letting him put his dirty hands all over you, his palm holding your neck steady as he reaches and shoves your pants in your mouth, his hand now in your hair, forcing you to look up at him, eyes widened with muffled moans with every rough movement he produced.

“God, if only you could see how pathetic you look right now,” he chuckled before giving your cheek a couple of rough pats and moving down to your ass.

You could hear the zipper of his pants unzipping. You closed your eyes as you tried to even out your breathing, but your body shook as you felt his finger slide between your folds. Your moans were muffled by the fabric shoved in your mouth.

His finger slid in and out of you, starting off slowly before speeding up. His other hand came down to play with your clitoral area. Your eyes rolled back as you felt him insert another finger. His thick fingers filled you up better than any dick you’ve had. Your body was shaking as you felt your orgasm creeping up on you already.

But seconds before you could feel that release you’ve been dying for, his fingers popped out, leaving your poor pussycat clenching around nothing and his now wet hand coming back down to slap your puffy pussycat, making you cry out.

“I didn’t give you permission to cum; better be on your best behavior if you want to,” his deep voice rang, making you nod your head, your hair pressed against his sheets, now stranding and sticking to your sweaty face.

You felt his dick slide in between your slick fold, rubbing his aching hard cock, refusing to put it. Your hand reached back to where it was, trying to put it in you, but your efforts failed. Simon’s hand grabbed both of yours and pressed them against the middle of your back.

“I said be on your best behavior.” His voice sounded deeper, angrier. He was losing what little patience he had with you.

Without any warning, his duck rammed into your hole, and your head snapped as you cried out into the crumbled cloth.

"Aww, what’s wrong, Lovie? I thought this was what you wanted, hm?” His voice was condensed and humiliating.

You couldn’t do anything but sit there and take what he forcefully gave you.

Each thrust making you see heaven, one hand holding your hands back, and another grasping the roots of your hair, the pain and the pleasure mixing in so well, every second felt so long, trying so hard to cum all over his girthy dick as it plunged in and out of your now-abused hole.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You spat out the now wet cloth out of your mouth, crying out for him to let you

“Please, please Simon, I can't—seriously, I can’t take it anymore. Please, please let me—fuck!—let me cum, please, sir.”

God, you sounded pathetic, but you know that’s how he wanted you to be—all pathetic and drooling all over, just for him, all for him.

He chuckled. You only whined out, thinking he was going to torture you even more, but his hand that was holding your arms reached to your neck, bringing your body up to be pressed against his front, feeling the rough fabric of his uniform, the straps, and random shit he had in his vest pockets pressed against your flushed skin.

You cranked your neck slightly to look up at him, eyebrows furrowed, mouth pulled into a frown with your flushed cheeks made him almost cum, and the eye contact you were giving him almost made him cum, fuck.

He grabbed your cheeks, making you face the front of his bed, watching the wall, the empty white walls, feeling his breath against your neck, goosebumps appearing when his sharp teeth grazed your skin.

“Cum for me, love, be a good girl, and show me how much you love this dick,” he whispered before biting a spot at the crook of your neck, his movements going in a fast motion, his heavy balls slapping your clitoral area with every few thrusts.

You moaned out, no cloth to muffle your cries now, from the pain caused by his teeth and the unbelieving pleasure of finally cuddling.

“Ngh, oh god! Simon! A-aah!” You cried out, unable to keep it in anymore.

But his name falling from your lips made him cum immediately after you, his thrusts slowing down before he let your body fall back on the bed. He pumped his cum deep inside you, pulling out, seeing his cum dripping out, his thick fingers coming back down to your sensitive pussy, fingering you to keep his cum deep inside you.

“Better not waste a drop,” he chuckled before slapping your ass a few times before getting off the bed and stretching his back.

He fetched a towel, throwing it at you. The microfiber fabric landed on your face, making you take it off immediately as you glared at him.

You cleaned yourself up as he grabbed your clothes and put them next to you, his dick back in his pants, now zippered with his mask fully on.

“Put your clothes on and get going, soldier,” he commented. You looked up at him as you cleaned up some of the cum dripping from your used hole. The air felt so awkward. and weirdly, you tried to lighten the mood.

“Damn, you must do this a lot. Got another date coming?” You chuckled as you grabbed your cargo.

“Well, that wasn’t exactly the most satisfying for me, so better get going,” he replied, making you stop midway. You looked up at him; maybe his eyes would be squinting, indicating a smile. But no, nothing but dead eyes spared you less than a second before he moved to his desk.

Embarrassed, you put your clothes on immediately and grabbed your pants before opening the door to his room and slamming it behind you. You furiously walked to your barracks, which were only a couple of doors away.

How fucking dare he? Who did he think he was? Coming inside you, then having the audacity to say that?

You walked into your room, ridding yourself of your sweaty clothes, grabbing a towel and some change of clothes as you rushed to the female bathrooms, you needed a shower, immediately, to calm you and rid you of that gross feeling of being… used

Small Things

Small sleeping habits with Sebastian & Ominis

A/N : I wrote this while I was sleep deprived and found it. Enjoy my small hcs! And per usual, if y'all have any requests don't be shy to send me them !!

masterlist

Sebastian :

Sebastian had always been an anxious kid. After everything that happened to his parents and then Anne, it was only understandable. You had learned to pick up on his cues pretty quickly, pulling him away from whatever was stressing him out.

“You good?” You whispered as the two of you settled into bed. Sebastian’s hand drummed against the sheet as he settled himself.

“Yeah. Just had a long day.” His arms quickly fell around you, pulling your face into his chest. His hand reached out for the book on the nightstand and he slowly opened it.

“Can I read to you?” He whispered, looking down for assurance. You rubbed against his flesh and hummed. “I would love nothing more Seb.” He sighed and smiled at the response, his empty hand running across your side.

His voice soothed you and your heart swelled as you watched his muscles relax. You had learned months into your relationship that Sebastian had loved reading to you. You didn’t know exactly why, maybe it was the undivided attention or escape and comfort with you by his side, but it was sweet. Something you would truly cherish on nights like these where he needed to calm down and you could just sit with him. You swore that you could bask in this feeling forever if he would let you.

His words got softer as your eyelids relaxed and you could feel sleep pulling you away. As much as you wanted to stay awake and listen to him he was too calming. Sebastian was well aware of it too as his hand brushed against your cheek and he pulled the covers against your form.

“Don’t try to fight it. Get some good rest, love.” You felt his warm lips cover the side of your face in small smooches and you hummed. You let out a tired sigh and pulled his face down for a gentle kiss.

“You go to sleep too Sebastian. Don’t need you reading all night.” Your voice faded and Sebastian let out a laugh.

“Anything for you dear.” 

Ominis :

Ominis loves whenever you join him in napping. Although you were not particularly fond of sleeping on the ground around campus, you didn’t mind the naps on the couch or bed. They were even better when he was still going to sleep and super clingy.

“Ominis?” Your voice rang out as you walked into his dorm. A grunt was heard from his bed and your eyes landed on his comfy form. It was precious really. He was holding one of his pillows in his arms and leaning against it for dear life. His blonde hair was splattered in a mess and his lips were slightly open in a pout. 

You walked over and snuck into the sheets, arm pulling him against you. The boy hummed and pushed even further into you.

“Y/N..” His sleepy voice murmured and you couldn’t help but coo. He was really adorable.

“Hey baby, go back to bed. I’m gonna join you.”

“Mm.. Thank you. I love you.” Ominis yawned and went back to sleep as you pulled the blankets further around you two. 

“I love you too.” You pressed a kiss to the boy's neck and closed your eyes. His soft breaths lulled you to sleep with a sense of security. He was truly one of a kind.

Sebastian likes frogs. Emphasis on the word likes.

He appreciates them, they do good for the environment. They eat up all the nasty flies that buzz around the mountain lake, too. He doesn’t have to worry about mosquitos snaking on his blood while he smokes. It’s just a plus that he finds them cool and interesting.

Which most people find weird. Sebastian thinks it’s weird that they find it weird. Frogs aren’t going out of their way to bother people.

Yes, he likes them. They’re his favorite animal, certainly.

But favorite is not enough for him to want to smooch a frog.

“Sam, I’m not gonna fucking kiss a frog.”

“C’mon! It’ll be like the movie!” Sam teases, insistently shoving Sebastian to the frog innocently sitting on a park bench. “Who knows, maybe it’ll be your very own froggy princess—”

“Didn’t the girl turn into a frog when she kissed it,” he shoots back, elbowing Sam backwards in the gut. The blond lets out an overdramatic hiss of pain, bent over and clutching his stomach. “Abby, back me up here.”

“I never watched that stuff,” Abigail shrugs, watching with amusement. She makes no move to help at all, comfortably resting against the wide wooden posts of a fence. “Watched a lotta cartoons though. Phineas and Ferb is my jam.”

“Not about the movie,” Sebastian grits exasperatedly. His brows knitting together in frustration “The frog.”

“Mhm, go on,” a cheshire-like grin on her face. “Kiss it, Seb. A big smooch right on its slimy mouth.”

Sam eggs him on, the pain of being elbowed magically disappearing. “Do it! Do it!”

Sebastian presses his lips tightly together. There’s no use resisting once Abby and Sam band together. They’re a force to be reckoned with like this—demanding and overbearing. Sebastian exasperatedly wipes a hand over his face, shooting the poor frog a sorry look.

Sam pushes him one more time, he gives him a stony glare in return. “Fuck—alright! Stop being so damn loud, you’ll scare it away.”

The frog in question croaks slightly, like it senses the trio talking about it. He gives it a wary glance.

As he slowly approaches, Sebastian can hear Abby and Sam’s satisfied sniggering behind him. They roped him into doing another stupidly outrageous thing for the umpteenth time.

He sighs, he really needs better friends.

Mustering up all his courage, he bends down, almost eye level with the frog, resting a hand on the wooden grain bench on where it’s perched upon.

He screws his eyes shut and goes for it.

Sebastian’s lips connect with the frog’s slimy, almost rough skin. So fast and featherlight that it can barely be considered a kiss. Cold against his lips. He pulls back immediately after, wiping any residue off his lips with the back of his hand.

The frog jumps, croaking with,what he assumes is, alarm.

“See?” Abby laughs, ruffling his hair good-naturedly. “No princess in sight. You didn’t turn into a frog either!”

“Man,” Sam snickers, patting him roughly on the back. Sebastian groans with every smack. “It would’ve been cool though, if you turned into a frog. We’d have a frog drummer in our band!”

Sebastian shoves his unruly friends off. “Yeah, whatever. Let’s get going. The frog is probably traumatized.”

“You can check that off your bucket list,” Abby teases, a smirk playing on her lips. “Kiss a frog before I die. We’ll tell the story for generations.”

Sam howls with laughter, Sebastian feels absolutely mortified.

Before the trio could make any move out of the park, a cloud of green smoke curtains the frog, so thick and so unusual. Sebastian unconsciously backs away from it.

“What—woah,” Sam says, more mezmerised than shocked at the green smoke pouring out of the frog Sebastian kissed. “What is that?”

“The fuck if we know, Sam!”

“Boys, boys, shut the fuck up. Look.”

Abigail points at the fog. It grows and grows, stopping and dissipating once the whole bench is covered with the green mist.

The frog is gone—disappeared into thin air. Instead, a not-so-frog shaped person sits. You blink up at Sebastian slowly.

Woah, woah.

He feels his heart accelerating—for all the wrong reasons. An unusual thumping sound that vibrates all throughout his body—his fingertips, his stomach, his toes. Where there should be fear and panic and definitely fear, Sebastian feels exhilaration.

You’re pretty.

It’s also pretty horrifying for him to think—and feel.

You blink slowly—a frog-like trait that cement his suspicions. You’re staring up at him as he stares back down at you, curious meets bewildered. “…”

His eyes are wide, scanning each and every part of your now not frog-like features. Sebastian feels cold sweat dripping down his forehead—a stark temperature difference to the heat in his cheeks. “Oh—oh shit.”

“Uhm… ribbit?”

-

Another thing he blames on Sam and Abby—his horrifying attraction you; the person, not the frog.

He checks that off his metaphorical bucket list, too.

bruh i need to vent about a rude comment i got on my recent chap and also about clora, cuz its something thats been on my mind for a while now. it has spoilers to my most recent chap tho so im putting it below

so in my most recent chap clora gets hit by the killing curse but thanks to seb sacrificing himself for her, it doesn’t work/she survives. and I got a rly rude comment about how that’s super cringe and that clora is a "shoe horning of every possible manifestation of Mary-Sueism I have ever seen." theyre dropping my fic after almost 500k words bc apparently THAT’S where they draw the line and that "just somehow pulling it out the bag and surviving a killing curse from the power of love. In simpler terms, it’s absolutely cringe worthy" and "forgive me if I rolled an eye at the yet again invincible nature of Clora Clemons-the-one-eighth-Veela-extraordinaire"

BUT LIKE LMAO TELL ME U DIDN’T READ/WATCH HARRY POTTER WITHOUT TELLING ME. that’s literally what happens to harry??but its only cringe when it happens to our "mary-sue" clora? like yeah sure love magic might be a bit cringe but IM LITERALLY JUST PULLING FROM THE SOURCE MATERIAL. of all the things to take issue with in my fic and interpretations, theyre taking issue with something that’s canon BAHAHA.

and since im on the topic of clora being mary sue can I just say I hate the misogyny/internalized misogyny that i've seen some people (NOT A LOT, THANKFULLY) treat her with. like i get it, im not pale and blonde and as conventionally pretty as clora is, but even if I was, is that a reason to hate me?? and does being beautiful and well-liked = mary sue? bc as far as I know, mary sue is a chara who is just naturally amazing at everything and doesnt need to try hard and theyre just inexplicably great for no reason (like mc in the base game BAHHAA) if anything the mary sue in MY fic is seb LMAO (but hes a boy so its ok). like clora has worked hard and studied magic all her life due to being a squib and wanting to make up for not being able to DO it. she isnt good at flying, seb is still better at her than duelling, shes really short sighted when it comes to doing/thinking whats best for others and can be a huge idiot.... and like. the only guys that have even shown interest in clora on a real scale have been seb and leander (and then lawley for blackmail purposes, and also bc he hates seb) so its not like literally everyone is falling over themselves for her?? like her interactions with the main cast of boys (ominis, garreth, amit) theyre all indifferent to her LMAO but still, the fact that shes pretty and guys here and there might look at her and go o shes cute! doesnt make her a mary sue SORRy thats just called being attractive idk its just annoying that ppl automatically see a nice kind beautiful female character without any VISIBLE flaws and go SHES TOO PERFECT!! MARY SUE!! WAH IM JEALOUS! and like I get it bc when I was younger I probs would have been annoyed by clora as well due to my own insecurities and internalized misogyny but hey, how about u just realize that’s ur own problem and your own jealousy, and not a real one HAHAH anyway ive since evolved bc I used to be a ‘not like other girls’ type girl back in highschool. trying to be super tomboy-y bc I thought being feminine was cringe and too basic but now ive embraced it and love girly things and dresses and charas like clora who are still strong and showcase their strengths and weaknesses in subtler ways, and I want to smooch her and make out with her. get behind me clora ill protect you🤺🤺🤺

໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა yandere! aether general headcanons

warnings! yandere themes, overprotectiveness (directed towards reader), mentions of threatened self harm (not towards reader), force affection (not directly stated, but implied) obsessive behavior, kidnapping, mentions of violence (not towards reader), paimon attempting to be a wingman (but ultimately failing), if you feel like anything else i should add, just comment! <3

notes! i love this man so much smh. also, these headcanons take place as if you were traveling with aether and paimon (since like, before the actual story). enjoy! <3

there are literally no words that can describe how much you mean to this man. like, literally. you mean more to this wandering traveler more than words can describe. you'll often find the male gazing at you with the softest look in his eyes. he won't be embarrassed even if you catch him staring, just leaning his cheek against the palm of his hand as he stares dreamily.

on your journey towards each region, his (over)protectiveness will continue to grow and there's literally nothing you can do about it. it's inevitable and you'll just have to deal with it. he already lost his sister, could you imagine how much he would lose it of he lost you too?

unlike what his sister would do, you'll be stuck in serenitea pot 24/7. maybe in safer/more familiar regions (mondstadt is a good example) you'll be able to get out the pot more, but most of the time, it's just aether, you, and paimon in the serenitea pot. paimon usually is fighting for your freedom but aether is (unfortunately) able to convince her otherwise. give the poor girl some credit she's trying her hardest :'(

speaking of paimon...she's the worse wingman ever. according to aether, atleast. he appreciates her efforts and all to try and woo you for him, but it always ends up making him look bad in the long run. unintentionally attempting to show off his battling as he beats a innocent person for flirting with you, trying to convince you of how awesome aether is as if he didn't state that he would kill himself if you left him, etc.

anyway, back to aether. this man is extremely affectionate. he doesn't care where you both are at, what time it is, or what's happening at that specific moment, just expect to have him close to you in whatever way possible. he loves any type of affection, but he's especially a fan of kisses if you ask him what his favorite type of affection is, he'll say all. trust me though kisses are his favorite. smooches, pecks, full on make out sessions, he doesn't care. he'll soak it all up and tell you thank you after (or if it's the case where he's showing you affection, then he'll still probably say thank you). he especially loves when you kiss all his bruises and scars that he gets from battling at the end of the day, just laying in your arms and feeling your lips kiss all the pain away is better than any bandages~

you know how i said he was overprotective? yeah, this man is willing to beat up literally anyone. it doesn't matter who it is, treasure hoaders, civilians, enemies, fatui, so on and so forth. and it's not just the fact that he's completely okay with killing anyone, but his reasoning for doing them is just as worse. a person in mondstadt can casually offer you some fisherman toast and aether is breaking fingers (look it's not his fault, okay? he saw their fingers linger on yours!)

on a more...obsessive note, he's very keen on keeping you by his side. i know i said that aether keeps you in the teapot, but he let's you out...sometimes. of course, you'll always be by his side whenever you're finally able to step out of your imprisonment, either he has a hand on your waist or is holding your hand. if danger ever just so happens to arise while he's trying to have a nice stroll with his darling, then you probably won't be going out for a while.

...and by a while, i mean 4-5 months if what happened isn't 'major' according to the blonde swordman. unfortunately, aether will come to the conclusion that teyvat is way to dangerous to even take a walk in windrise (or wherever non-if dangerous aether takes you) strikes. so once he gets the urge to finally take you out (again), please take advantage of it.

Family | Kakashi Hatake x Reader |

author's note: i love family man kakashi and i'm not sorry!! papashi has me in a chokehold, and i love, love, love writing these domestic au's that aren't entirely romance centered. this can be read as a standalone but serves as a follow-up to blessings

pairing: kakashi hatake x fem!reader

warnings: light angst, modern au, naruto and sasuke are adopted

"Incoming." Kakashi says lazily from his spot on the couch, watching out of the window as the school bus drops the kids off right in front of the house.

You smile to yourself in the kitchen, already having plated the sliced apples with a spoonful of peanut butter, plus some quartered string cheese sticks onto paper plates. Your boys are always hungry coming home from school, and lord forbid if you were running just a bit late.

The front door bursts open and your two second-grade sons, Naruto and Sasuke, rush inside. Naruto immediately jumps onto his father, his laughter bright when he starts to receive tickles from Kakashi's nimble fingers.

"Pa!" He shrieks, wiggling around and fruitlessly attempting to get away.

"Whaaaaat?" Kakashi snickers, still tickling his blond boy. "I thought you wanted to say hi to your Pa? This is hello!"

While Kakashi and Naruto play on the couch, Sasuke sulks into the kitchen. He's quiet as he sits at the table and pushes his plate aside to set his homework down, putting down two worksheets and his pencil pouch; his face is unreadable as he starts reading the instructions. He's a very diligent student already, which doesn't really surprise you much, so you smile and set down a pouch of fruit juice.

"Good afternoon, honey." You press a sweet smooch to his forehead. "How was school today?"

"S'okay." He mutters.

"Mm, alright." You give him another kiss and head back to the sink of dishes you'd put together to wash before your sons came home. Sasuke was always more reserved than Naruto, yet the feeling that something's wrong creeps up your back. You can't figure a way to explain it that makes sense— but you know your boy better than anyone else, even his father. Something is eating at him.

"Naruto, darling, come eat your snack and start your homework please!" You call out, and his speedy footsteps start rushing to the kitchen. Before sitting down, Naruto slings his backpack under the table and rushes to you, hugging the back of your legs.

"Thanks, Momma!"

Goodness you can't help the swell of your heart every time he calls you that. "You're very welcome, sweetheart. Go on now, before your juice gets warm."

Naruto runs to the table and immediately starts working on his snack, whereas Sasuke is diligently practicing his handwriting worksheet, snack forgotten. For his age he has incredible handwriting, unlike his brother's absolute chicken scratch. Hell, you think he just might have you beat too.

"Where's my snack?" Kakashi hums while walking into the kitchen, placing his hands on your hips and kissing just behind your ear. You chuckle softly and continue scrubbing a plate while your husband works his nimble fingers where your thighs and hips meet, ghosting his lips along the back of your neck.

"Hmmm, something tells me it's not in the kitchen."

"On the contrary, yes it is." He nips your neck sharply, smooching the same spot with a small, apologetic kiss.

"You want my apple, Pa?" Naruto asks, suddenly at your side, holding up an apple.

"Sure do, kiddo." Kakashi picks up Naruto, kissing his cheek before opening his mouth up for Naruto to place the apple into his mouth. He returns Naruto to the table and fishes his homework from his bag, setting it out in front of him as he finishes the bite. "I also want you to get these worksheets done."

Naruto pouts, but Kakashi pulls a chair to sit beside him. "Come on, they'll be quick and easy, and then you'll get to go play before dinner."

"Okay, Pa!" Naruto gets a pencil from his orange pencil pouch, and from there he and his father tackle the handwriting worksheet.

You finish the dishes and wipe off the counters, listening as Kakashi and Naruto work on the little one's homework. Your heart is always full in these moments, the ones where Kakashi can quickly transfer between husband and father with ease and be the man he's needed to be at any given time. He's the perfect man for this family.

Sasuke is just finishing his work up, neatly placing the worksheets into his folder and packing it back into his bookbag for safekeeping. You smile at your son when his eyes meet yours. "You didn't eat your snack, honeybunch."

"Not hungry." He sulks away and starts heading upstairs.

You frown and look back at your husband, whose eyes are met with yours. He nods in the direction of the stairs, his silver hair falling in front of his face. You sigh and begin heading upstairs to talk to Sasuke, Kakashi and Naruto's voices fading with each step upwards.

"Pa, you need a haircut!"

"You think so?"

"Uh-huh."

"Hmm, maybe you're right."

With a careful sigh as you walk to Naruto and Sasuke's room, your eyes sparkle in amusement at the various signs they made for their bedroom door, including one appropriately titled NO GIRLS (XCEPT MOMMA) with a drawing of a girl that looks suspiciously like Sakura crossed out.

You knock gently. "Sasuke, can I come in?"

"... Okay."

You open the door up and step in, noting the mess you didn't get to clean up today. Dinosaur toys litter the floor and their clothes are, frustratingly, everywhere but the hamper. You'll get to it tomorrow, you decide, and sit down on the edge of Sasuke's bed, where he's curled up with his Nintendo in his little hands.

"Talk to me, baby." You say softly. "What's going on?"

"Nothing." He shifts uncomfortably, eyes on the screen of his handheld.

"Mm, I know you better than to believe that, Sasuke. I can help you make it better if you tell me what's up, y'know."

His jaw tightens and his eyes darken. You've seen him angry before, typically at his slightly younger brother, but this is different than minor irritation. "I'm fine, Momma."

"Alright." You hold your hands up. "I'll let you play your game." Perhaps Kakashi will have better luck; Sasuke's always adored his Pa and their bond is stronger, just as your bond with Naruto is.

You stand and head for the door, glancing at the picture of your brother hanging on the wall beside Naruto's bed. Your fingers are gentle against the glass for just a brief moment as you look at the photo, touching it like how you long to just hug your brother one last time. The pain of how fast everything happened still echoes in your heart, even after seven years.

I miss you, Minato. I hope you're proud of me.

You shut the door behind you, unaware that Sasuke had watched your interaction with the photo. He sees it every time you do it. He and Naruto are aware they were adopted; you and Kakashi had sat the boys down a handful of months ago and told them the truth after Naruto asked why the man in the photo looked like him. Believing they deserved to know their own origins and wanting to teach them about their parents, you and Kakashi told them everything. That man was Naruto's biological dad that died when Naruto was born, along with his mother, Kushina. It rocked Sasuke to his core to learn that technically, you and Kakashi weren't really his parents. But you both had loved him and raised him all the same, and as far as he was concerned you really were his mother and father.

But the more he looks at Naruto and the picture of that man on the wall, the harder it becomes to not be jealous of his brother. That man on the wall was his dad, and you were that man's sister. He came from a completely different family and was only connected by a piece of paper because you felt sorry for him. He was placed into your life abruptly; you didn't choose him!

His real mother is dead, his real brother is gone, and his real father is in prison for the rest of his life. More and more he feels like he doesn't belong, even though he wants nothing more than to be here. He wants to continue being loved like he had been, and wishes every day that he didn't know the truth.

What were his parents like? His brother? Would he have been potentially even happier than he is now? Or would it be worse? He doesn't have an older brother, since Naruto is technically younger than him. Would Itachi have loved him? He hears Gaara talk all the time about his older siblings and how they play pranks on him sometimes, or how they can be mean to him. Was that the kind of brother he would've had, versus the energetic, annoying yet kind and loving brother he has now?

Would his real mom and dad love him as much as you and Pa do? He can't imagine what it would be like to not have you in his life. What if something happens and you send him away? Or what if his real father gets out of prison and he has to go live with a complete stranger?! He doesn't want to be alone.

Sasuke sniffles and turns off his Switch, curling into a ball and crying into his arms.

"No luck?" Kakashi murmurs in your ear once Naruto has finished his homework and gone outside to play with Gaara and Rock Lee.

"No." You shake your head, worrying your lower lip with your teeth as you rummage through the cabinets for some olive oil. "He doesn't want to talk with me about it. He doesn't even admit that there's something bothering him in the first place."

Kakashi's strong arms slip around your waist, halting your anxious rummaging and easing your nerves with a strong squeeze. "I'll give it a shot."

"I just want to know what he's so upset about." You whimper, sniffling as you brush away a tear threatening to slip from the corner of your eye.

"I know, baby. Just relax— what're you searching for?"

"Olive oil, I'm making yellow rice tonight." You murmur.

He turns his head and glances at the shopping list on the refrigerator, olive oil being the very first thing listed. Sasuke's heavy on your mind if you've already forgotten what you wrote down mere hours ago— and he'll be damned if he allows something to threaten his wife's happiness for long.

"I'll go pick some up."

"Thank you." Another sniffle is followed by two fresh tears falling down your cheeks, and Kakashi kisses them away before delicately pressing his lips into yours.

"I'll be right back." He promises, and as he scoops his wallet and keys into the pocket of his leather jacket, he takes one glance at the staircase before jogging up and heading towards Naruto and Sasuke's bedroom.

"Knock, knock." Kakashi says as he opens up the door; he's a little less afraid to invade the boy's privacy than you. "Sasuke, you're coming to the store with me."

"I don't wanna." Sasuke murmurs into his pillow, the fabric of the pillowcase thoroughly soaked in the midst of his post-cry, thousand-yard stare. He's facing the wall and away from his father, but the sound of Sasuke's congested voice is telling enough.

"It wasn't a request, Sasuke." Kakashi's tone is firm but gentle, and Sasuke knows better than to go against his father when he uses that voice. So he pushes himself up and slips on his favorite Crocs, head lowered as he follows Kakashi down the staircase. Kakashi turns his head in the direction of the kitchen, calling out to you. "I'm taking Sasuke with me, baby!"

"Be careful, I love you both!"

"I love you!" Kakashi yells back before heading out the front door with the boy, allowing him to sit in the front seat.

"Why were you crying?" Kakashi hums softly as they wade into traffic, stopping at the red light.

"I-I wasn't-"

"Sasuke, I've known you for your entire life. I know when you're upset, when you've cried— I even know when you need to poop."

"Pa!" Sasuke whines, chunky cheeks reddening.

"And so does Momma. Who, by the way, is worried sick about you."

Sasuke drops his head. He didn't mean to worry you; he just didn't want anything to happen if he opened Pandora's box. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry, honey." Kakashi sighs softly, pressing his foot to the gas when the light turns green. "But I would like to know what's been making you so upset lately. You're not acting like my little boy. More and more you just seem so sad."

Sasuke sniffles as the tears rise back up again. "I am sad, Pa."

Kakashi turns into the parking lot of the grocery store, quickly finding an open spot and settling the car into it. "Why, baby? What happened?"

Sasuke's little hands cover his face and a broken sob leaves his lips, and in an instant Kakashi is out of the car and opening Sasuke's door, pulling him in for one of his strong, reassuring hugs. "Shhh, baby, it's okay…" He coos softly into his son's dark hair, rubbing large, warm circles against his back.

"I-I…" Another sob cuts him off and Kakashi feels the tears soaking his neck. What on earth has Sasuke so worked up?? It's entirely unlike him to be this way; neither of the boys ever had a penchant for crying, though if Kakashi had to pick a crier of the two, it would be Naruto.

"Take a deep breath, Sasuke." Kakashi murmurs, continuing to rub the little one's back. "Big, relaxing breath. In through your nose, out through your mouth." He coaches gently, pressing a soft kiss to Sasuke's raven hair.

"I don't wanna go away!" Sasuke's cry is muffled into Kakashi's chest, and the doting father blinks.

"Sasuke-" Kakashi pulls back enough to see his son's red, tear-stained face. "Why do you think that would happen??"

"B-Because I'm not s'posed to be here! I-I'm from a different fam'ly!"

Kakashi's poor heart shatters at the idea that's been running through his boy's head, and he gathers up Sasuke in a tight, warm hug, nearly crushing the boy to his chest. "Sasuke." He chides softly. "You're here with us because that's where the universe decided you needed to be; and while you may have been born under a different name, you are my son."

"B-But what about Naruto?" He asks, sounding so small and frightened and god Kakashi has never been happier that Sasuke confides in him rather than you, because if you were to hear this from Sasuke directly, you'd surely create a new Nile river from your tears alone.

"What about Naruto?" Kakashi hums. "He's with this family for the same reason you are; you needed us. And we needed you guys just as much. I'd dare say me and Momma needed you more than ever." You two have certainly grown closer and developed an even stronger marriage as a result of the sudden parenthood.

"But he's Momma's nephew." Sasuke whimpers, and that's when it truly clicks for Kakashi.

"Sasuke, honey… Did you know that your Momma was adopted too?"

And judging by the blink and the physical recoil as Sasuke finally looks into his father's eyes, Kakashi deduces that he did not.

"She- She was?"

Kakashi can't help but laugh; to him you're so obviously not biologically related to Naruto, but he supposes children wouldn't think twice about it. And they shouldn't, he reasons. You all are as much of a family as any other; he loves his babies, and they are his. "I speak nothing but the truth, kiddo."

"Oh…" Sasuke wipes at his wet eyes, Kakashi supplying him with a napkin from his glove compartment.

"I don't know what's gone through that mind of yours, but listen to me now, Sasuke. You make this family whole. If any one of us were to go away, it would be incomplete. You and your brother are mine and Momma's greatest blessings; do you understand? We love you, Sasuke. We have since the very day you were put into our care, and that's why we adopted you."

"Not just 'cause you had to?" Sasuke murmurs as Kakashi takes over the napkin operation, wiping away Sasuke's tears and snotty nose.

"Of course not; if we didn't want to raise you, we would have sent you to foster care. And that was absolutely not going to happen."

"Okay." Sasuke sniffles again, but his heart fills with hope at his father's promises— Pa doesn't tell lies, after all, so he trusts the claims.

"C'mon now, we gotta get Momma some olive oil." Kakashi stands and tosses the napkin into a nearby trash can, chuckling softly when Sasuke slips his little hand in his father's much larger one.

They retrieve the oil quickly, and at the checkout Kakashi picks up a candy bar with a sly wink to Sasuke. "Don't tell your mother we had candy before dinner. And absolutely do not tell Naruto." Kakashi could never dream of sneaking in some candy before dinner with his other boy, as much as he loves him. He's just too damn talkative!

Sasuke smiles, tears and worries already long forgotten by the time they finish their chocolate bar and head home. Sasuke rushes in for a big hug, and while it briefly shocks you (Sasuke never does this; it's certainly one of Naruto's signature moves) you manage to get it together and hug your little man. "Hey baby. Thank you for going with Pa to get Momma some olive oil."

"You're welcome, Momma."

"I'll go get Naruto." Kakashi hums, leaving you and Sasuke to cook the rice together and set the table after giving you a kiss and a hidden smirk, and you smile to yourself— Kakashi's taken care of everything.

Kakashi returns after a few minutes with Naruto on his back, and loudly your son begins explaining how he and his friends were playing ninja, and that he was so clearly the best one. Sasuke frowns and interjects— clearly he would be the better shinobi, and you laugh to yourself as they begin to argue.

Kakashi follows you to the kitchen, holding you from behind as you get the rice going. "He's all better now."

"I can tell." You coo and turn your head to recieve a kiss from your husband. "My magic man…"

The corner of your husband's lip quirks up, and he gives you a lingering kiss, gently swaying with you until you've got the rice set and turning you to face him for a slow dance in the middle of the kitchen. You hum a soft tune and follow his lead, the sound of the boy's arguing over what wins between wind and fire tuning out when Kakashi's soft, pink lips are back on yours once again.

"I love you." You murmur against his lips.

"I love you more." Kakashi presses his chin on the top of your head, pulling you impossibly closer and slipping his eyes shut. "Without you, I don't have this family."

"We're all equally important in that regard." You kiss above his heart. "We made this together."

Kakashi smirks and catches Sasuke's eye once he realizes they boys have stopped arguing, giving him a subtle wink and feeling his heart grow impossibly fonder of his family when Sasuke grins at him. He could never, would never find a better life for him than the one he's got now.

stay with me.

longing [ ft. m. kaiser ]

i don’t want u to leave… in which kaiser longs for you more than he thought he would.

k by cigarettes after sex heavily recommend to listen to while reading!!

all works from luvmouche & ritsufeet on tumblr.

𒁷 sfw, (forced to) made for ivelle (@n6gi)

𒁷 cw// hurt comfort(?), kaiser is too busy for u (dickhead), but it gets better i think, mutual longing, kissing smooch smooch, umm idk what else, kaiser tw🤓, “m” is his nickname given by the reader, rly short fic btw, slightly ooc kaiser but yk what idc!

i made this for ivelle this is literally yhe only bllk fic ill ever make (maybe) also i dont even like kaiser (kurona bwtter) i originally made this in my notes app i had to decide whether or not i eveb wanted to post this on tumblrHelp

synopsis: michael kaiser is a cruel, busy man—yet he finds himself pining for your warmth more than he expected.

not proofread!!!

kaiser, michael

your boyfriend, michael kaiser, who’s a famous, up and coming athlete, never has any time for you.

“i’m leaving, i have a meeting today.” he says, hurriedly pushing his shoes on with heavy sighs. you look at him and frown, “again? m, you never have any time for me anymore…”

“i know, but i’ll make it up to you, i promise. just not today, i’m busy.” he huffs, frowning right back at you, his blonde hair sways messily in front of his face and his fingers coming up to brush them up and out of the way again. you frown deepens and you sigh.

he looks up at you, his eyebrows furrowed. “what? what’s wrong with you?” his question only makes you sadder.

“can’t you stay?”

“no, i can’t. you know this. i said i’d make it up to you, didn’t i? trust my word.” you know this, you already know… but you can’t help but already begin to miss him.

he’s often gone for long hours, sometimes it’s more than just hours. it’s hard loving him when he’s absent majority of the time, and when he’s not gone, he’s doing something else that doesn’t involve spending time with you. what could be so important, anyway? of course, you love him, you love his career and support him with everything you can, but he could at least love you a little back.

you slowly walk over to him when he’s finished putting on his shoes. he looks at you with soft eyes, a face that he doesn’t show often. vulnerability that doesn’t come easily to him, something he only shows to you. “i’m sorry,” he says, his hand cupping your cheek. you relish in his touch, leaning into his palm. “i really wish i could stay too. you know that as well as i do.” he caresses your cheek, sliding his thumb over your skin.

“i get it… you should go, you don’t want to be late, right?” you look at him giving a reassuring smile. “i’ll be here, like i always am.” his heart aches as those words leave you, and the urge washes over him. he brings himself to your lips and kisses you—sweet, quick, and loving. he lets himself linger there for as long as he needs to. he doesn’t want to be late, yet he finds himself not wanting to move a single inch away from you. he wants to stay, wants to be here with you and the comfort of your kisses.

you pull away instead, you put your hand right above his—the one caressing your cheek so gently and longingly that you fear that it’d break his heart if he tore it away—and squeeze it. his face is solemn, his gaze wavering. he’s staring at you, but he looks away, as if hesitant to say anything. then, he looks at you again, and purses his lips. “..i love you.” your reassuring smile turns into a genuine one. “i love you too, m.”

he pulls you into a hug, holding you longer than just a few seconds, and he can hear himself the moment he decided to just go ‘ah, fuck it.’ a barely audible chuckle comes from his voice leaving you wondering what’s so funny.

“on second thought, i don’t think they’ll mind if i miss a day or two.” he says, smiling.

a/n: i hope ur happy ivelle. k bye im tired fuckkk

Stargazing and Cigarettes

A fic in which Nicholas D. Wolfwood is bad at feelings

↳ Nicholas D. Wolfwood/Reader

content.  gender-neutral pronouns, fluff, wolfwood got a little angy, it’s ok give him a smooch anyways

3.4k words

Some may say Gunsmoke is the epitome of misfortune. If you're misfortunate enough to be born on this hellscape of a planet, you'll die an untimely death at the hands of someone or something completely out of your control. The violent crime rates were high, and the likelihood of terminal starvation and dehydration were even higher. But, although some may say that, others– not many, however– would disagree. My favorite thing... is when the sun disappears behind the dunes. When everything is cast in pink and orange and everything is so soft and the air is cooling down. It reminds me that, even through the worst of days, things will be okay in the end, as long as I keep pushing forward. It's evenings like that you learned to appreciate the most, only with the help of your blond travelling companion. Vash had put life into a new perspective for you, had an arm around your shoulders when you were sulking about being hungry, or hot, or absolutely exhausted. He was a good person, an even better friend. You came to be quite fond of everyone, really. Vash, Meryl, Roberto, and admittedly an extra soft spot for the newest addition, Wolfwood. He was brash, cocky, and more often than not, he was a grump. He never seemed to direct his ire at you though, you had noted this at some point while the five of you sat in some hole in the wall diner enjoying a very inexpensive meal. You can't even remember what the argument was about, if you were being completely honest. Meryl would have her one-sided bicker with Wolfwood, then Vash would interject and inadvertently make himself the target. At some point you had sighed, the sheer amount of personalities in one group clashing was giving you a migraine, and looked up at Wolfwood with pleading eyes. Really, you hadn't even said anything, the look you gave him seemed to be more than enough for his eyes to widen, then narrow, turning his head to look out the half-boarded up window he was sitting next to. Not so much as a peep came out of his mouth for the remainder of the meal, and you appreciated it despite how out of character it was for Wolfwood to be completely silent. You smiled, eyes watching the stars above as you recollected the memory. The car battery had once again been neglected, decidedly leaving your little group stranded for the night. Vash had assured everyone this was as good a spot as any, since not a lot of bandits OR worms came this way, but the at least I think so tacked onto the end left everyone unsettled and eager to start the trek to the nearest town first thing in the morning. It really is beautiful, you found yourself thinking, watching the pink and orange sky slowly fade darker and darker, making way for the stars and constellations to shine so clearly, so beautifully. You sighed, sitting up in your sleeping bag and looking around the sad little impromptu camp to find everyone asleep, or trying to sleep. You and Meryl had been given the rights to sleeping in the car, however you found yourself politely declining. I stay up late, and I like watching the stars was the excuse you used. So, instead, Meryl and Roberto took the car to sleep in, leaving Vash, Wolfwood, and you under the chilly desert sky. The small fire someone, most likely Vash, had graciously started prior to heading off to bed definitely aided in your evening chills, but you knew deeper into the night would be difficult to sleep through. Letting out a small grunt, you stood from your spot, shuffling out from your little sleeping bag. Vash was a few feet away from you, face peaceful as he ever so quietly snored. A hard exhale from your nose, followed by a quick glance around camp, you noticed a missing member. A part of you would like to say you were surprised, but the other part of you thought it was very typical and on-par that Wolfwood wouldn't display such a vulnerable act of sleeping peacefully around a group of people in the middle of nowhere. He wouldn't be difficult to find, you thought with a slight smile, if the distant smell of cigarette smoke was anything to go off of. And difficult to find he was not, considering you had only taken a few strides to get around the mobile storage container on the back of the vehicle, seeing him sitting with his back against the cold metal. A cigarette hung loosely from his mouth, sunglasses fallen down the slope of his nose. Evidently, he had anticipated you before you had even spotted him, with how his dark eyes were trained on you through the corner of his vision before you even had the chance to look down at him. All you did was wave, rocking back on your heels when he said nothing. "Want some company?" You took the deep exhale from his nose as a sure whatever, sauntering over to stand beside him, pressing your back to the container, and sliding down to mimic his posture. It was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. Copious amounts of prolonged silence wasn't something you got a lot of in your travels, so there seemed to be a mutual understanding to simply enjoy the moment and each others' presence. "What're you still doing up, anyways," Wolfwood finally muttered, breaking the silence. How long had it been? Five, ten, twenty minutes? Long enough for the last reaches of the sun to dip below the horizon, now only leaving you to bask in stars and moonlight. "Dunno," You shrugged, arms wrapping around yourself as you bunched your knees up, "I like watching the sun go down when I can. It reminds me that even on the worst days, everything is just temporary. With every sunset is an ending, and every sunrise is a new beginning." A small smile crept up onto your lips at the scoff he gave you. He didn't have to say it, but you knew what he was thinking. You've been hangin' out with that needle noggin too much. There was another extended period of silence. "What about you?" You returned, head tilting back against the metal behind you as you looked up at him. "No rest for the wicked, as they say," He sighed, taking the cigarette butt from his mouth and flicking it somewhere in the distance. You didn't understand what he meant by that completely, so you decided to glance away and not say anything at all. Something you and Wolfwood seemed to have a mutual understanding of was knowing when to accept you can't know everything and just move on. The quiet crinkle of plastic pulled your attention back to him, his hand fishing another crumpled cigarette from his pocket. This time you were the one to scoff. You opened your mouth to speak, but his elongated groan of disapproval beat you to the punch. "Don't wanna hear it. If I didn't know what these were doing to me I wouldn't be smokin' 'em," His words were muffled by the object between his lips, one hand cupping in front of his face to block the non-existent wind, the other flicking the lighter to life. Fair enough. He took a deep inhale, exhale following quickly suit. The plume of smoke that surrounded him and tapered off into the night sky was hypnotic, the twists and turns performing an intricate dance with a mind of its own that you've learned to describe as simply very Wolfwood. An enigma, a man of little words and a heavy burden. What that burden was, you don't think you would ever learn, but sometimes you liked to imagine the thought of getting close enough to learn. Everyone needs a shoulder to lean on, even wasteland-jaded priests. "So," Your words trailed off, eyes looking up at the stars above for anything, anything to keep you here in his presence, "Do you know anything about constellations?" "Nah, can't say I do. Do you?" "No." You shrugged, earning a teasing, low chuckle from him. It was a marvelous sound, something you could only package up and wrap it with a nice little bow to keep close to your heart. "Why'd you ask if I knew then?" He pushed his glasses further up his nose, lazily tilting his head to the side to look at you. And what a wonderful thing, being seen by Wolfwood when all you've gotten until now are fleeting glances and indirect side-eyes. At one point you started to think maybe it was deliberate, the way whenever your eyes met he would look away soon after, that perhaps you made him uncomfortable. The weight of his gaze made your cheeks heat, even if your body was cold, and hug your legs closer to your body. "I... dunno, I thought maybe you would so you could teach me a little." There was another short stretch of silence, butterflies anxiously fluttering in the pit of your stomach. "Y'know you can leave if you're cold, the fire's probably still going." If it was anyone else, you would take that as an indirect request for you to depart. Perhaps you'd even take the liberty with Wolfwood, but in this moment, you were selfish. He brought some sort of foreign comfort a fire and a moderately warm sleeping bag couldn't provide. "It's okay," You sighed wistfully, "Even with the fire and the sleeping bag, eventually it'll get too cold out. Just trying to acclimate myself sooner than later." You chuckled in good nature, but he didn't seem to find it as funny. "Heard sharing body heat helps." You nearly choked on your spit. Nearly. "'m sure needle noggin wouldn't mind helping you out. You two seem close." Ah, you got ahead of yourself. "He wouldn't mind because that's just the kind of person he is," You stated, matter-of-factly, barely catching the purse of his lips, "But... we aren't close like that. We're both dreamers, and without an anchor we'd just float away." All you got was a hum. "Plus... I think, even if there was some kind of... feeling there, I don't think he'd feel the same way. He's got enough of his own stuff going on, I don't think throwing a person into the mix would be a good idea for either party." Honestly, you hasn't realized how close you and Vash were gave off indication that there might be some kind of relationship potential. You were more than certain Meryl would have said something about it if that were the case, but perhaps you were wrong. "Didn't mean to make an assumption," Wolfwood muttered, hands plucking another cigarette out of his jacket pocket. You sighed, digging your heels into the ground as his lighter sparked up once again. "It's okay," You reassured, in the motion of standing up, "I'm gonna try heading to bed though." He grunted, his eyes sliding shut for just a moment. You used this to your advantage, snatching his cigarette from between his lips with a smirk as you stood. Maybe he didn't want you to say anything about it, but you weren't going to sit and idly watch as he chain-smoked himself into an early grave. This seemed to shock him more than anything, his hand swiping up to catch your wrist as he stood to his feet. You had managed to use some momentum to toss the now thoroughly crumpled cigarette, catching it in your other hand. As if you'd give up to him that easily, who did he take you for? All you heard was a growl, then a hollow metallic thud, and everything had happened so fast you didn't process that the noise was from your back hitting the mobile storage trailer. Your eyes were wide, mind reeling to process the precarious position the two of you were in. His hands each held a wrist, body boxing you in and enclosing you in a space that was just entirely Wolfwood. You were gazing up at him, only to be met with an equally bewildered expression. The both of you fell silent, only hearing the thump of your increasing heart rate pounding in your ears. He was close, too close, close enough that you could smell the smoke on his breath and the earthy scent emanating from his well-worn clothes. What felt like hours was probably more realistically a matter of seconds, but eventually you had gotten your wits about you to open your palm and display his much desired stolen item. Only then did he pull away, hands releasing your wrists to take a couple steps back. He cleared his throat, once again reaching in his pocket as if you hadn't just attempted to give back what started this scuffle in the first place. Swallowing, you took a step towards him, arm outstretched with the now snubbed cigarette in your palm. He said nothing, quickly taking it, placing it between his lips, and lighting it in silence. You were unsure if the moonlight was playing tricks on you, but you thought you could see pink dusting his cheeks and the tips of his ears. "U-Um–" You stuttered, hands coming together to pick at your nail beds nervously, "I'm–" "It's fine," He interrupted, and you couldn't help but admire him even now, even as he avoided tour gaze, even as he clenched his jaw in what you could only assume was annoyance, admire the steady slope of his nose and his sun-kissed skin and growing stubble. And, subsequently, noticing the smear of ash that ran from his jaw to the corner of his lips, most likely a result of you so bravely snatching what was quite literally a burning object from his mouth. If anyone were to ask you what you were doing, you wouldn't be able to tell them. If they asked you what you were thinking, you wouldn't answer, you couldn't answer, it was completely instinctual. Maybe it was because you were still so high off of the headrush he gave you, off of his scent and his gaze and his energy, you were much more bold. Either way, you didn't think, thumb coming up to swipe the expanse of grime tarnishing his otherwise flawlessly rugged appearance. Unlike before, everything moved in slow motion. The way he reached up to once again grab your wrist, the way his other hand snatched the cigarette between his lips and flicked it away, as he had done to the other. The way that same hand came up to cup your neck, his thumb cradling your jaw, all while he was stepping closer and leaning into your personal space. "Wolfw–" "Shut up," He breathed before his lips slotted against yours. There was no malice behind his words, but a surprising inkling of desperation. How soft he was surprised you. His touch, holding your neck in one hand and your waist in the other, how soft his lips were against yours, as if he was scared to press any further into you, scared he would hurt you or scared you would push him away. You didn't, though. You don't think you ever would. By the time you had come to your senses, he was already pulling away, brows furrowed and lips slightly parted, as if he was already looking to conjure up some kind of excuse as to why he had just done what he did. You didn't want an excuse though, you didn't want another reason to pull away, and the way your hands came up to grasp the front of his shirt and your eyes gazed into him must have gotten that point across. He pushed his sunglasses up onto his head and kissed you again, pulling your body closer to his, lips just a little less forgiving. This time you could feel the pent up desperation, the stress, the uncertainty, and then you could feel it all melt away. His rigid and tense muscles relaxed under your touch as your hands slid up his chest, onto his shoulders, eventually cradling both sides of his neck with your hands. Your thumbs stroked his jaw, the scratch of his stubble adding to the symphony of noises you held close to your heart that were just so Wolfwood. By the time you pulled back again, you could feel the heat on your cheeks, feel the droop of your half lidded eyes, feel your heart hammering in your chest as you panted desperately for air. You stood like this for a good while, eyes lazily blinking up at him in complete disbelief, before you chuckled, "It's... really cold out." Wolfwood continued to stare at you, eyes glancing back down at your lips, and even if he began to lean in again, he didn't have the courage to see it through for a third time. "Then let's get you to bed." He lead the way, completely detaching from you with his hands shoved in his pockets. Part of you wondered if this would ever be spoken about again, was it all just a moment of passion and weakness? Did you both just desperately need something, and now you were unable to shoulder the weight of your decisions? Your mind came to a grinding halt the second he stood above your sleeping bag, gesturing to it vaguely. The fire was nothing but weak embers by this point and would do absolutely no good shielding you from the bitter cold that awaited you further into the night. "Is... Earlier, you said–" You began to whisper, pausing when you noticed Vash shift in his own sleeping bag. You swallowed, eyes downcast as you pointed to Wolfwood, then yourself, then the sleeping bag. You glanced up in time to catch him biting the inside of his cheek, before ultimately nodding and following you in and under the covers. There definitely wasn't enough comfortable space to fit two people, and it took a couple minutes of awkward shifting and repositioning to finally settle on laying on your sides, your back to his front. You had to hand it to him, it was warmer than if you were just by yourself. Forcing your eyes closed, you took a deep breath, trying to will yourself to calm down enough to actually get in some shuteye. That all went out the window the second his hand came up to rest on your hip, then slowly slide down so his arm was holding you back against him. "Wolfwood..." You whispered, barely a word at all in fear that you would wake up your nearly sleeping companion. ".... Nicholas." "Wh... what?" "Call me Nicholas." It was as if your heart grew wings and flown up into your throat, and you didn't know why, because this was something as simple as being on a first name basis, but it was the moment of vulnerability that he displayed that pushed you close to tears. Somehow finding the space, you rolled over, now face to face with the man of your affections. He didn't seem fazed in the slightest, but his furrowed brow gave him away, as did the quick flicker of his eyes, bouncing from one feature to the next, before settling on your eyes. "Nick," You couldn't stifle your grin if you tried, not with how the deep crimson crept up his neck and the tips of his ears, "Will you stay with me tonight?" He scoffed, as if it were a ridiculous question in the first place, eyes sliding shut. "Yeah. I'll stay." "Nick?" "Mmh." "Can we maybe talk a bit more about... this tomorrow?" He didn't answer you, not verbally at least, but if the way his arm tightened around your waist spoke for him, you could only assume that was a yeah, sure. You smiled, craning your neck up to place a chaste peck against his lips. You caught the stutter in his breathing, and the shift in his expression, before you closed your own eyes to welcome the warm embrace of sleep. Maybe you wouldn't know what the morning ahead of you would bring, but you knew that being right here, right now, with Wolfwood holding you so close, like he needed you... you could accept whatever challenges came your way.

Something Stupid

paring: carmen “carmy” berzatto x reader

word count: 2.0k

genre: fluff, its all jokes bbyy

warning(s): smoking? Its carmy, what else does he do in his free time

summary: when you find peace in the small moments

a/n: better call saul and the bear? together? Well, don't mind if i do. anyways, i do not smoke, i do not condone smoking…but its kinda sexy ngl (thx @officialjimmybuffet for the images, smooches)

There is something so inherently nasty about cigarettes.

The unnatural smoke that burns your eyes, the chemicals that collect under your fingernails, and the smell that manages to leave an everlasting scent on your clothes.

You were never a smoker– somehow managing to avoid the advances of the punk outcasts trying to sell their self-rolled cigs in the back of your highschool parking lot for a dollar each. Sure, there was the typical uncle who seemed, and smelled, like he went through two or three packs a day. The faded voice of a family friend warning the children of the dangers of “the cancer stick,” and that smoking one was equivalent to signing your soul away to the devil.

A scoff leaves you, smirking as you free said cancer stick from its confinement. You were never one to heed the advice from strangers who believed they knew you better than you knew yourself anyway. Bringing it up to your lips and quickly lighting the end, basking in the warmth the small flame brings to battle the chill of the Chicago air.

It's not as though you didn’t know the risks that the habit came with, you are not ignorant to science and health officials; but as you inhale the first hit and can practically swim in the warmth of the filtered tobacco as it fills your lungs, you damn the professionals and all their holier and wiser than thou bullshit. But as you go for a second drag, the door to the alleyway opens and you’re greeted with unruly blonde hair, light blue eyes, and the face of a man who looks like he got the shit kicked out of him.

Because he has, you think, blowing smoke from your nose at the thought. Ever since the transition from The Beef to The Bear, things in and out of the kitchen have gotten easier, but that doesn't mean a headache doesn’t follow. Signing up to work in a kitchen comes with its ups and downs, mostly downs. But those scarce highs are filled with such intense feelings of euphoria, that it is the true addiction that should be studied.

Carmy walks towards you, quick rushed steps, leaning on the wall next to you, close enough to ensure that your arms are touching. A sigh leaving his lips as he rests his weight on the wall, raking a hand through his hair only to continue to drag it down his face. You can see him turn towards you from your peripheral, but you’re looking forward because looking at him means kitchen talk and no matter how long you’ve known Carmy you know that every break talk will just lead to him ranting and raving and you're on a smoke break for a reason and–

The cigarette is plucked from your lips, fingers decorated with SOU disappear with your cigarette just as quickly as they appear, bringing it up to their owners lips for one hit, a second, before he’s placing the stick back exactly where he stole it from.

To say you’re surprised would be a lie. This isn’t the first nor will it be the last time Carmy does this. Hell, he’s the whole reason why you kissed your lungs away in the first place.

You’ve known Carmy for a few years now, having met at that bastard of a restaurant in New York. You weren’t even supposed to be there, having worked at a restaurant adjacent to it, but they were low on staff and the GMs were close enough to send their chefs back and forth when need be.

It was moments before dinner service was supposed to begin, every chef taking last minute precautions to ensure they don't get chewed out by the newly established CDC, Carmen Berzatto. You don’t even know what he looks like yet, the kitchen is doused in pure silence that even asking someone what he looks like seems like a distraction worthy of a mental breakdown from a fellow chef. Even though your check didn’t come from this place, you prepared your station as well as you would in your own restaurant because that’s what being professional means; treating anywhere you cooked with the most respect.

Stepping foot outside and leaning against the wall, you began digging through your pockets for your phone, cursing to yourself when you realized you left it next to your station.

“Hey, uh, I got an extra smoke if you want,” says a voice coming from your right. Turning in its direction, you find a long, blonde-haired man sitting on a milk crate. A cigarette is dangling from his fingers, the smoke swirling dangerously close to his eyes before he brings the cigarette back to his lips, your eyes skimming on the tattoos that decorate his arms and biceps.

“Uh, I’m sorry what,” you question back, having forgotten the original prompt said by him. 

“A smoke,” he holds out a carton of cigarettes towards you, “that’s what you're looking for right?” The box is white but decoded with a strip of blue running through the center. The look he gives you is so inviting, but there's only one problem:

You don’t smoke.

Not once has a cigarette grazed your lips. Not once have you been possessed by the ghost of defiance and inhaled the breath of the devil. Not once have you been wrapped in the haze of smoke.

But the look of desperation that’s hidden behind his eyes, the subtle look asking to not be left alone in the back alley of the world’s best restaurant, is enough for you to reach out and grasp your one way ticket to demise–and oh how right you were. How could one assume that a measly little cigarette would alter the rest of your life.

The physics of it seemed easy enough: inhale and then exhale, breath in and then breath out, anybody can do it. So you take the cigarette out of the box, and lean back on the wall, inspecting it like it would sprout legs and run away.

“Hey, uh, do you have–,” the flame of a lighter is already being cupped by his hand. You bend over, close enough to this man to smell the left over nicotine mixed with the atmosphere of the kitchen. He doesn’t look away, mesmerized by the way your eyes drift to the flame to ensure the end of the cigarette is lit, the slight tilt of your head towards the heat. Even when you blink back up to him he doesn’t look away, he’s almost afraid to breathe in this moment, worried it’ll be another thing he manages to fuck up.

But then you're inhaling and–

“Holy shit are you alright,” there’s a hand on your back, patting with a gentle force with the hopes of expelling your coughing fit. “Here, have some water,” he hands you his container of water, because what kitchen has bottled water?

Taking a sip, you contemplate a universe where you can save this situation. How does one manage to fuck up this badly? All of the movies make it look so easy, but the burning of your lungs say otherwise. But the warm hand on your back doesn’t move once you stop coughing, and you turn to see worried eyes meet your own. A beat passes, then two, then a scoff leaves your lips as you shake your head in disbelief.

“Sorry, I uh,” you scramble for something, anything, to save your pride, your dignity. Here is this incredibly attractive man willing to give you a small piece of his world, and you spat it back out in his face. He must be thinking the worst demeaning thoughts, because what chef isn’t thinking in the worst way possible? Here is some person who can’t even inhale properly, what makes them think they can handle the smoke in the kitchen? Coughing up a storm all because of what, one drag of a cigarette and the chef needs to tap out–

“No it's okay, I know these ones taste bad as shit, but they’re the only pack I had on me,” he rubs the back of his neck with his free hand (the other is resting still on your back, not that either of you noticed), “I normally have this other brand, y’know a little sweeter and not as bitter and uh, yeah sorry about that,” he trails off, looking sheepish at the thought of giving out a shitty cigarette brand.

You are given two choices now: one, you can lie and agree that the brand is shit, keeping a small amount of pride and dignity, or two, come clean and admit to this total stranger that this is the first time you’ve held a cigarette and you only agreed because he looked pretty.

A former option has never looked more inviting.

So you lie, you lie out of your ass and agree that the brand is shit and that you have to get back to your station. Packing in a joke about how fucking insane the CDC apparently is and that you’re glad to only be here for the one night. You wish him luck for the night, he gives a small chuckle and wishes you luck as well.

It was five minutes later that someone pointed out that the CDC just walked in from the back and you realize that he was the same man whose cigarette you coughed up.

But that was years ago, and now here you are, with the same CDC behind his new restaurant, a now shared cigarette between your lips. You followed Carmy throughout his time in New York, you followed him to his brother’s sandwich shop, and you will follow him throughout his new endeavors at The Bear. Following him wasn’t always easy, if anything there are more lows than highs, but it’s the small moments like these that make everything worth it.

“You wanna know something funny,” he asks, stealing the cigarette again.

“What?” 

“This is the same brand I had you smoke the first time we met.”

Pulling the pack out of your pocket, you let out a hum of acknowledgement, “holy shit you’re right,” the blue stripe around the box stands out against your palm.

You turn to look at him for the first time since he’s stood next to you, backs against the harsh brick of the building.

He’s already staring, a knowing smirk growing across his face, “Thought you hated that brand?”

Stealing the cigarette back, you let out a last puff of smoke, “Only hated it cause you were the one to give it to me.” You finish the cigarette, throwing it onto the concrete and stomping it out, “Come on Berzatto, this place won’t run itself,” you call out with a small wave thrown over your head, walking back towards the kitchen.

Carmy laughs, knowing that you hate the story of how you two met. He can’t help but tease ever since he found out he gave you your first cigarette by accident. You didn’t know anything about different brands, just that you found the man giving you one attractive. Carmy only knows this after taking you home after a drunken night with Sydney, you babbling about anything and everything that it took him a few hours to put the whole story together.

Of course he feels bad at certain times, such as watching you pat yourself down for a smoke only to find that you finished your last pack the other day. But Carmy is always there to give you one of his, whether it be his last one or not, only if you two can share it with a small moment together outside.

And so he walks back inside, looking forward to the next smoke break, and the one after that, until his lungs couldn’t handle anymore, only to keep going if yours haven't given out yet.

~ Alastor x Lilith! Reader x Lucifer - Part 1 ~

Word Count: 2, 920 words

Warnings: None, yet ;3

I happily write requests but if you commission I'll finish your story first and I'll be quicker with it ;3

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Summary: You decide to finally confront your husband and his arch nemesis on their rivalry and the three of you manage to come to… a solution of sorts.

Corrections will be made later and marked when fully done.

Also... I haven't caught up on the new season so no spoilers or you will be blocked ÙwÚ all I've seen was moments and scenes.

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There was something that you tended not to look forward to and as much as you loved your husband you couldn't help but be annoyed at the current situation.

The radio demon just happened to be working with Charlie on this plan to make hell better and being the mother that you are of course you wanted to support her endeavors even if you yourself didn't see much reason to this one in particular.

Months ago Charlie has decided to open up this…hotel, a reserve in a way for souls of hell to redeem themselves in order to hopefully reach heaven. As silly as it was, you loved your daughter and so of course even as Lucifer, your darling husband, made his little comments about it here and there, you both loved your child for the work she's put into it.

What you didn't love was watching Lucifer as he bickered with this man, fingers being pointed and eyes being rolled. They did this every time they ran into each other which was why you could only be so grateful when you weren't in the middle of such arguments.

Alastor's eyes lands on you for a moment and there's a second where the way that your eyes connect sends a spark rushing down your spine.

You glance away, there was…history there. History you didn't tend to bring up often, at all even and said history revolved around many, many long years ago where you and the said radio demon had a bit of a click. Ever since meeting Lucifer you've been able to somewhat move on, pushing what seemed to be millions of memories down and into a vault within yourself, refusing to remember and yet and refusing to fully forget.

They way he looks at you while looking over your husband makes you slowly glance away, raising a hand and lightly clearing your throat.

”Hey!” The blond ruler suddenly growls and Alastor, even with that everlasting grin on his face, manages to show displeasure as she returns his crimson gaze back to the big boss of Hell himself.

“What are you looking at?...” Lucifer now glares and you knew how he could be, knew how he was and you now carefully approach, moving to place your hand on his shoulder and he immediately seems to calm, going from baring his fangs to looking at you like you were his entire world which of course you was. There's a look on Alastor's face as he watches the exchange with narrowed eyes, a look of…bitterness as if he bite right into the ripest of grapefruits and sadly didn't have the privilege of spitting right back out. He almost looks disgusted… as if he's watching something that simply shouldn't exist.

Alastor has never went into deep detail about it but just spending all these years in hell and with them on display for all the denizens to see has always irked him, had secretly always made him want to rip his own hair out or even cut his own tongue off whenever he had the privilege of being in the presence of their affection for each other. It's the way that they speak to each other, the way they caress each other, the way they hold each other that makes Alastor think of things he shouldn't. Things he didn't want to think about like the way they probably kissed and smooched with so much romance and lust behind the mighty closed doors of their castle or the way your skin felt against his when you'd reach out for that blond fuck… or even the way that Charlie came to be.

Alastor wasn't no fool and though he felt little to no attraction for anyone there had always been something different about you, something about you that drew him in and made him want to hold on for dear life and after so many years of running from such emotions he's found that… he's in fact, not as content as he once was. Not nearly as content as he hoped he'd be after all this time.

If anything...

He's starving, itching for so much more.

“My love, my dear…” you say to your husband in the sweetest of times as you move your hand from his shoulder to his cheek, cupping it before caressing his skin and missing the way Alastor's ears pinned down is displeasure and the way his eyes narrow further.

“As humorous as it is to watch the two of you go at this do we always have to do this when you to run into each other?” You ask and honestly you're not against receiving the answer from either man. Why did they always have to do this? What could possibly be the beef they had to make their relationship this hostile? You couldn't help but wonder, couldn't help but think if there was a way to bring it to an end sooner even if just temporarily.

They both look at you for a moment and then slowly back each other for a moment longer only to look back at you with… interesting gazes. The gaze that Lucifer gave you was one that you had seen far too often now, that look of curiosity, of primal interest and you feel yourself pause for a moment. It's a look that you know all too well and yet you start to feel your cheeks grow warm.

Why was he looking at you like that right now out of all times?

You chuckle a second after, quickly turning your gaze away from him only for your eyes to catch Alastor's and you truly freeze at seeing… a similar look.

Your husband was the prince of sin himself, of lust and wanton hunger and so after all those years you had grown to understand the look well. To love it with every piece of your soul and body. What you hadn't expected was for Alastor to hold the same gaze, as if he was one step away from losing all control and for… what? For you?

Suddenly it all clicks into place and against your better judgment you manage to blush, cheeks growing warm and bright with blood. It's not the first time you've been forced to face this realization, forced to realize that while you loved your husband dearly, there was something about the radiodemon that you just couldn't shake off even after all these years.

You loved Lucifer and he loved you and you were happy, content with him. However, Alastor seemed to somewhat… haunt you at times, like an ever lingering ghost of memory who always managed to stir up emotions in you gut that you weren't necessarily ready to face.

“I think I know how we can settle this actually…” Lucifer slowly says after a moment of silence between the three of you and you feel your heart skip a beat as his voice comes out in a low coo, as if he was a snake that was currently actively whispering in your ear. You shudder and Alastor's eyes fall shut as if he's preparing himself for what's to be said next, sucking in a breath through his nose and slowly releasing.

“My love…”

You start to say…

“Since you're obviously still upset about the fact that you lost, how about we make another deal?” Lucifer hums out and there it was, the words that changed the frequency of air around you three for the rest of the day. When Lucifer made deals it was best for many not to give into them, he wasn't known as the great deceiver for no reason but there seems to be a… glint in Alastor's eyes annoyance blending in with curiosity.

“What's the terms?” He replies quickly and with what seemed to be little thought and while you're a bit confused they seem to look at each other as if speaking a secret language that only they seemed to actually understand. Your brows furrow as the continue to look at each other and just as you open you mouth to make a joke on how ‘gay’ this was Lucifer chuckles slowly and raises his hand to the radio demon with a cocky grin and Alastor takes it, roughly grabbing hold of it as if he just barely avoided the thought of breaking it and leaned down to tower over the other man even if it didn't scare the other.

“Deal.”

A gust of wind and magic swirls around them the second their hands touch, brilliant golds and crimsons filling the air around the three of them and you raise a hand, squinting and shielding your eyes a bit from the sheer power of the light.

Whatever deal they had just made was purely made off of emotions.

Pure, unbridled emotions...

You could tell, could practically taste it in the air…the blends of hunger, need, jealousy and oh it sent a harsh shiver up your spine. Something was starting to tell you that today would be a long and tiring day. You sigh softly at the two men, crossing your arms over your plush chest and tapping your nail against your arm.

You were completely lost and even so, you knew this meant nothing good.

Suddenly they both turn their gazes to you and you feel your heart skip a beat. There's a… scent in the air, one that you also knew well, one that told you that not just one… both both of these men were looking at you as if you were a female in need of companionship. You feel the light blush on your cheeks suddenly growing worse.

Lucifer breaks the silence with a chuckle, walking over to you slowly but surely, carefully pacing around you in a way that made you feel like he was examining a precious jewel, something that was so fine and so worthy of love that he just had to admire and get closer to. Just like the two of you when you first met in the garden of Eden.

“My love,” he says, practically purring and the way he sounds seems to make you feel similarly to a cat getting scratched behind its ears. “We've come to a conclusion.” He states matter of factly as he continues to walk around you before going in, wrapping a small but powerful arm around your waist and pulling you close and snug against his side.

You lift a brow and can't help the little smirk that graces your lush lips as you look down at him.

“And that would be?” You reply softly and Lucifer looks up at you like the charming man he is, those eyes looking at you like you were both his world and universe and you swoon. He's just so cute, and so handsome and… your thoughts come to a halt as a hand carefully reaches out and captures your chin, fingers gentle and firm at the same time and there's a moment of confusion until Alastor lifts your head, making you look at him now and he's allowed, had it been any other man right now Lucifer would have definitely splattered his blood against the ground you all stood on. Alastor looks at you with a gaze you don't see him with often. His everlasting smile was still on his face but strained in a way that made you blink. There's something there, something needy.

“Best man to make you cry out the loudest wins.” Alastor says in a hushed tone and you stand for a second, then two before your eyes wide.

“Make me… what?” You say as if astonished, as if not hearing him correctly. As if he had just spoken to you in a whole other language and Lucifer lets out a laugh, haughty.

Did Alastor call that an attempt at already starting this war? Please… it was practically laughable.

The blond haired man now squeezes you just a bit closer and even though he's quite a bit shorter you were reminded as you always were of why you were so in love with him. One reason out of so many others that practically shined at the forefront of your focus like a golden star. He gently caresses you now, fingers running over your hip, petting you just the way he knew you liked it.

“Make you scream, darlin.” He repeats before Alastor can beat him to it making the taller man send him a harsh glare which he ignores with a smirk.

“Best man to make you scream wins.” He practically purrs as he repeats the words as if having to explain carefully.

He looks up at you with the fondest of smiles and you're starting to feel the blush creep to your ears. Had they really made a deal on what you were starting to think they did?

Well, it wasn't like they were being shy about it and you realize that they very much are serious, the looks on both of their faces…the cheeky grin on Lucifer’s and the hopeful one on Alastor's tells you everything you need to know. Usually you weren't someone to get so flustered so quickly, so easily but somehow you managed to find yourself in the middle of such a predicament and neither man seemed like they were joking or like they wanted to let up. Even with Lucifer's grin you can tell by the way his eyes sparkle, the way he squeezes your hip, that he's very much interested in doing more than a few less than holy things to you and surprisingly Alastor seems to be running along a similar wavelength.

Just as you open your pretty mouth to ask more questions Alastor seems to lean in and you perk up, eyes connecting with his as he slowly approaches because even though there's a want, a need, he knows you are a woman who loves being able to make her own choices. He knows that even with Lucifer's ‘permission’ that you don't like fast approaches but instead ones that make your heart rush and Alastor was a man who was practically known for having such charm.

As the space between you two becomes shorter and shorter you feel like time has managed to slow down, the noises of hell dialing down to nearly nothing as he closes in.

Before you can really understand your various, rushing thoughts and emotions, you lean in with him and the second your lips touch a spark seems to explode between the two of you. You gasp softly, pulling back for a moment, looking at him with wide eyes and Alastor returns the gaze but it's… gentle, hopeful and it's a look that you've seen only very rarely on him. There's a moment when your breath seems to hitch a little and before you know it you're going back in and this time it's longer as one kiss turns into two and then surprisingly into three.

There's a distant taste of blood on his lips and being the demoness you are, the queen of demons infact, how could you not feel even more drawled in by such a taste?

He hums against your lips, taking the time to reach a hand up and grip carefully at you chin, holding you still as his tongue slowly slips out and slides over your lip.

As if the blush on your cheeks weren't bad already, they seemed permanent by the time the two of you pulled away from each other. Your mind feels foggy as inklings of excitement rush over every corner of your body.

Alastor pulls away a few kisses later and you stand there for a moment as if trying to understand just what had happened and then there's the hand on your hip to leads you to look back at your husband. You perk as if caught in the middle of doing something bad, distasteful, and it distantly reminds you or the garden. Back to when you and Lucifer had just met and when you had turned your back on God.

You remembered the feeling, the way something in your heart seemed to clench and the way your heart rushed in… fear.

But just like those many times before, Lucifer gives you a fond smile and looks you deep in your eyes and you understand that… this is okay.

They may fight but he was fine with this, fine with Alastor tasting you and fine with your conflicted emotions towards the relationship the three of you had together. He was content and you see a similar gaze on Alastor's own face, as if the two of them had come to an understanding for the first time in what seemed to be... Well, ever.

“You want this don't you my love?” Lucifer coos airily sending shivers up your back.

“For us to touch you?..” Alastor says right after as he steps just a bit closer, reaching out to brush his fingers over your cheek.

“To kiss you?” Lucifer says now as his grin only grows while his hand runs over and along your hip with what seemed to be a clear goal in mind before stepping behind you and happily wrapping his arms around your waist.

“To hold you down until you can't take it anymore?” Alastor breathes, leaning in to look you in your eyes like he simply was holding on to a glimmer of control and even though you were the Queen of Hell… The Goddess of Sin herself, you feel like a virgin being quite literally between the two of them and without much other thought you let out a shaky breath.

“Yes, I would like that… all of that, very much so.” You say and both men seem to perk at your compliance like two happy dogs before grinning.

Guile & Guilt (Ch. 02)

Soap x Reader AU

Link to AO3

THE NEXT DAY

The Ettrick was the best pub in town, and you could smell the spicy blend of their famous curry halfway down the block. It was close enough to Pidge’s house to walk but far enough to be a bit of a trek, and so you were trailing behind her and Hamish as you made your way out to dinner. Hamish had called up some friends, and Pidge had done the same, for a little impromptu celebration party. You were not a fan of crowds, really, but you had promised yourself (in some small secret way) that you would be the best maid of honor there ever was for your best friend. If that meant partying down at the local bar, so be it. 

After bringing you and Pidge your morning coffees, Johnny had taken his Jeep and sped off somewhere, saying he “needed to clear his head.” But, even though he promised to show up to dinner tonight, you doubted he would show. Pidge had rolled her eyes and shrugged at you, expressing her doubt as well. 

You weren’t supposed to be worried about him though. You needed to focus on the goal: Pidge having fun. Be fun. She needed you to be fun. Smile, or something, c’mon. Your internal pep talks exhausted you, and you grew frustrated with yourself. Surely you could stand to be in a crowd for just an evening?

Lachlan Black, Hamish’s man of honor and college roommate, was already at the restaurant. You could tell because his lime green Aventador was parked out front, covering both the street and the sidewalk and shining like a penny. Stepping around it as carefully as you would a coiled snake, you squeezed past the car, making sure not to even breathe too roughly on it. 

When Hamish opened the door for you, you stepped inside to find Anjali, Bekah, and Cherise already waiting for Pidge, half-circled around Lachlan and Johnny like hungry birds - waiting to be fed more sweet nothings, you assumed. The three girls were Pidge’s friends from grammar school. They had grown up with Johnny and Pidge, and they knew them well, but they were not the most reliable bunch. If there was a party, they would turn up, but if you needed a ride to the airport, better call someone else. There was a reason none of them made the cut for maid of honor. 

“Pigeon!” Johnny shouted from his end of the bar. 

He had changed clothes, and he was in a half-open, rolled-sleeve button down with a pair of black canvas pants. Casual, but he looked like he was built to party. Lachlan, on the other hand, looked like he owned the party. You didn’t know what kind of fabric his clothes were made out of - probably something to do with baby alpacas - and he was shining all over. His high (surgery-induced?) cheekbones and bright blond hair made him look like a movie star, and the girls doted on him as if he was one. He had thrown an arm around Cherise, and she seemed perfectly content to be nestled there in his expensive armpit. 

Johnny hugged Pidge and shook Hamish’s hand. He didn’t know what to do to you, so he just leaned back against the bar and shoved his hands in his pockets, smiling at you and mouthing the ghost of a “hey.” You did the same, matching that awkward energy and immediately regretting it. 

“Hey, babes,” Lachlan smiled at you in a sort of sneer, “Aren’t you that bird from…New York?”

“Florida,” you corrected, tearing your eyes away from Johnny’s and looking hard at Hamish’s friend.

“Right, well,” he took a swig of his whisky, “All the same, innit?”

Hamish shook his hand, and then, he sort of pulled him off balance a bit to speak to him closer,

“No, mate, it isn’t.”

They laughed, but you could tell that Lachlan had been temporarily cowed. 

“Good to see you again,” Cherise kissed you in the French sort of way, the imaginary cheek smooches that you were supposed to have memorized when you crossed the pond. Did you lean left first or right?

“You, too, Cherise. Glad you could come,” you tried to be as friendly as you could, but Cherise was into her own ventures and there wasn’t much that could shake her from that. She was tucked back into Lachlan’s side, trying to return herself into his missing rib. If she just squeezed in close enough, maybe…

“Can I get you a drink, from one Of Honor to the next?” Lachlan showed you his teeth again. White. Straight. Sharp.

Before you could say a word, Johnny moved in front of him and held out an outstretched hand. He gave you a full whisky cocktail, complete with an orange rind on top - something Pidge already had a copy of - and shrugged,

“Sorry, mate. You can get the next one, yeah? Here ya go, bonnie.”

The way he looked at you was meant to be dismissive, or perhaps he hadn’t meant to look at you at all. Johnny barely glanced your way, pale irises hiding under thick, dark eyelashes that then quickly fixed themselves back down at the counter. But, the look in your eyes must have called him by his name, because he found himself caught in the snare of you. His gaze met yours in a second glance and studied your skin, your cheeks, your nose, and finally your mouth, covered in sticky gloss and glitter, shining under the warm glow of the bar. 

You watched him study you, his enormous Adam’s apple bobbing along his scruffy throat as he swallowed, and his face wore a mask of heightened uncertainty and… rejection? You couldn’t tell what emotion he was trying hard not to outwardly express. It was not a swoon, that was for sure. It looked as if he was concerned. You felt the blood rush to your cheeks and you broke away from him, muttering a thanks for the drink. Staring down at your hands, suddenly feeling insecure, you became hyper-aware of everything he could have seen and had apparently found wanting. 

A soft hand grabbed you around the arm and pulled you in,

“C’mon,” Pidge said, “Let’s get a booth.”

You took a sip of your cocktail as you were dragged away by your friend, and the whisky stung you like a hornet. One of these would be enough to put you down, and Christ did you want to be put down. 

Seeing Johnny dressed like that had been enough to shake your determination, but his look of dismissal or distaste (or whatever it was) had shattered your self-esteem. To make matters worse, you couldn’t get away from him for a single second. He had given you a drink at the bar. He walked behind you as you moved deeper into the pub, and he slid around the slick pleather crescent of the booth seat, finally sandwiching you between him and his sister - the last nail in your coffin. You could smell his cologne, a musky, woodsy scent that mixed with his earthy citrus that you knew so well. You remembered the arch of his muscular shoulders as he squeezed himself into the seat, and you could almost taste his sweet breath on your tongue as he talked over you to his sister. If you were still in grade school, you thought about having to write: “I will not fuck my best friend’s brother” five hundred times on the chalkboard - or however many it took for it to sink in. How many sticks of chalk would turn to dust just to slake your forbidden thirst? 

You felt his huge thigh, warm and tight, press against your bare leg through his slacks. The thin cotton was a poor barrier, and all you could think about was the skin underneath it. Was it covered in dark coarse hair? Shaved smooth like a swimmer? Did it have black, inky tattoos or jagged scars? Sharing his heat was unimaginably difficult to deal with. Your body stirred, wondering why you were hiding your interest from him. Your traitorous heart was joyful like a bird with a juicy worm, expecting revelry and finding only cold, white-knuckled repression.

“A wee toast!” Johnny lifted his cup, smiling in that half-cocked way that he wore in all of his photos, “To Hammie and Pigeon; and whilst we thus should make our sorrows one, this happy harmony would make them none. Congratulations, sister. Slàinte mhath.”

“Slàinte mhath!” The tables’ voices rang out with proud approval. 

Pidge rolled her eyes, but she wore a sweet smile,

“Thank you, Johnny boy. That was not the toast I was expectin’ from you, you weapon.”

Johnny, who had been wearing an innocent grin, turned it into a cunning one that a wolf might wear,

“Ya mean, this one?”

“No, Johnny, don’t -” Pidge tried to pull him down, reaching over you to get at his arm.

He broke through her grip as if she was a petulant child, and stood, raising his glass and his voice so that the entire pub could enjoy his toast,

“Let’s drink our drop o’ barley bree,” boisterous cheering came from the older menfolk who recognized the rhyme, “Though moon and stars should blink tae’gether, to each leal lad wi’ kilted knee…” a pause for effect prompted raucous whistles and table-pounding, “and a bonnie lass among the heather!”

Loud, jeering applause filled the cozy room, and Hammie was being shoved by his mates, blushing like a nun. Pidge cut a sharp glare at her brother, red not for shame but for fraternal rage. 

You wanted to stick up for her, being stuck between them as you were. So, you put on a wry smile and raised your eyebrows to deliver your sarcasm,

“Wow, Sergeant, didn’t realize you were such a poet.”

While he was laughing and basking in the crude attention, he now paused and swiveled his head over to you, looking at you intentionally this time, and there was no second take. He laughed a little lower, and looked ruffled that you would challenge his poetic authority. He needed to save face, so he made quite a show of clearing his throat and settled himself nice and close to you before he said,

“Perhaps the bonnie lass would like to hear another?”

You noted his tone on the callback line, and you shrugged, feigning disinterest.

“Of that quality? No, thank you,” you tried to erase all traces of interest from your voice. 

He was not to be deterred. Johnny’s face turned serious, and he delivered the next lines as earnestly and without satire, taking your request to heart,

“We are the Pilgrims, master; we shall go, always a little further. It may be beyond the last blue mountain barred with snow, across that angry or that glimmering sea…” 

When he stopped his performance, the applause and the cheering erupted again, praising him for his fancy delivery. Thinking he’d won your little challenge, he took a big sip of his own straight whisky and grinned like a cat who caught the mouse. You snuffed it out with the frigid precision only a graduate student would possess,

“White, on a throne, or guarded in a cave,” you enunciated as clearly as you could, matching his volume, and you watched as his pompous attitude was extinguished. He froze, just like a fox caught in a trap, staring at you with wonder. You continued, 

“There lives a prophet who can understand why men were born. But, surely we are brave…”

He said the last line with you, his face blank in disbelief and his voice almost a whisper,

“Who take the golden road to Samarkand.”

More cheering than before. You’d won. You borrowed his smug attitude and looked at him, sipping your drink as he did, pleased as punch. He looked wounded but blissfully happy about it. Everyone around you went back into their conversations, chittering and drinking and eating the appetizers that were waiting for you. But, Johnny kept you locked in his sights, staring back like he was seeing you again for the first time, just like when he thought you were a thief. You wondered what it was that you had stolen this time. His pride? The other bridesmaids’ admiration?

“You know Flecker?”

You nodded,

“I’m at Glasgow. Doing a bit of graduate work in poetry, actually. Shakespeare, to be specific.”

You tried to be casual about it. In truth, the “bit” of work was a mountain, and if you were being “specific”, you could talk for days and still not cover the details in full. But, normal people didn’t want to hear about that sort of thing. 

Johnny was about to say something with a wide grin on his lips, but it fell as soon as Lachlan interrupted from across the booth’s table,

“My father is an Emeritus at Glasgow. He’s hardly in residence, but he could help you get into the ARG, if I put in a good word.”

There it was again, that sharpness. You smiled genuinely, refusing to be unsettled by his intrusion and his mention of the invitation-only advanced research group, 

“I’m running my own research in the ARG now, actually. But, thank you. That’s very generous.”

Johnny was speechless for a moment, but there was something dark roiling around in him as he cut his eyes at Lachlan,

“Aye, mate. Very generous. Did you attend uni as well, or just your da?”

A cruel dig. Everyone knew that Lachlan hadn’t been accepted to his father’s own department. Johnny was dragging out the skeletons of his vast, walk-in closet, a dog with a bone. 

Lachlan Black was not one to be bullied, though, 

“I went on invitation to Oxford, actually. A full merit scholarship…”

Johnny wasn’t done playing with his food,

“Och! Of course. I've been forgetful lately. And what, uh…degree was it, then?”

Silent tension struck the table like a too-tight guitar string, ready to pop someone across the cheek. Lachlan was clearly rattled, but he recovered with ease. He took a sip of his nearly empty glass and rose as if to get a refill, reigning hellfire as he did so,

“I had already made my first million by the end of my starting year. So, I thought I’d leave the monastery to the monks, right boyo?”

Lachlan stayed standing over the table for a beat, making sure the dog he’d kicked stayed down. Johnny didn’t produce a comeback, but he was close enough to you that you could feel his body prepare itself to deliver one in a more physical format.

When Lachlan left the table, Cherise in tow, Pidge spoke across you again,

“Johnny! What’s gotten into you?”

Her brother rolled his eyes and didn’t answer. He turned his attention back to you, emboldened somehow even in defeat, 

“Another round, hen?”

He pointed to your glass, and you nodded,

“Sure, but let me get it. Pidge? Do you want another?”

“Yes! And tell them to bring two tequilas. My wee brother is driving me to drink.”

“I’ll help you carry ‘em back. C’mon, then,” Johnny held his hand out to help you out of the booth, and as you slid your fingers across his palm, he grabbed it with confidence.

He led you to the other side of the bar, as far from Lachlan as he could get, and let you place the order. You sat on the stool to wait and he stood beside you, one arm on the bar and one on the back of your chair, caging you in,

“So, Shakespeare, huh?”

“Yep,” you nodded, hesitating to elaborate. 

“You’re after his poems, I take it?” Johnny’s face looked like he was trying to piece together an impossible puzzle.

You sighed, steeling yourself for the ordeal of telling someone all about your project only for them to respond in the most milquetoast way. You told him,

“I’m trying to determine why Sonnet 145 has such an abnormal structure. Some scholars have even claimed that Shakespeare didn’t compose it. It’s the black sheep of the collection, and I am performing an analysis on its rhyme scheme and meter.”

“Do you know it by heart?” He asked, practically begging for a performance. 

“Here are your drinks, love. Tha’s twenty pound,” the barkeep stopped you from delivering your encore. 

You paid him and balanced the cups in your hand. Johnny took the majority of the burden and made his way back through the crowd with you trailing behind him.

“Ahh!” Pidge squealed with pleasure, “Shots! C’mon, babe. Show these nuggets how it’s done in America. This girl’s a real cowgirl, she is. Watch this.”

You grabbed the salt from the center of the table, shy and miffed at Pidge’s callout, and licked the meat of your thumb to wet it. You sprinkled the salt on it and reached for the lime. Then, you licked the salt, downed the shot, and sucked on the flesh of the fruit, keeping your face as straight as an arrow. Pidge clapped with joy. 

“Okay, me next.”

“That’s quite the process, cowgirl,” Hamish commented, admiring your shot-taking ritual.

You didn’t have the heart to tell her that downtown Miami didn’t have any cows, but you just smiled, folding yourself back up into hiding in the booth. The conversations left you behind and your head began to swim from the alcohol. By the time everyone was ready for their next beverage, you were done. Pidge didn’t notice. She’d moved on to champagne and spritzers. You were alone in a crowded room again, as usual. 

“Hey, you feelin’ alright, bonnie?”

Johnny’s voice seemed too quiet for a loud bar. You smiled weakly, 

“Mmm. Just drank too much, I think.”

“C’mon. I’ll get you home.”

Before you could protest, he was helping you out of the booth and onto your feet. You heard Pidge shriek,

“Johnny! What did I say?!”

“Pigeon! Is that really what you think o’ me? Gonna tuck her in, and tha’s it. I’ll be right back.”

“I swear on Christ and -”

“Yeah, yeah, and all the actual saints. I heard you, you wee dafty. I promise. Not a hair on her head, yeah?”

“You can touch all the hairs on my head, Soap,” Bekah cackled, and the table laughed with her. 

Johnny laughed too, which felt like a knife twisting in your chest for some reason. You’d forgotten all about his nickname. Everyone except Pidge used it for him. You thought it was a callsign for the military, but you’d never had to call him anything, so you didn’t remember. But, Bekah did. She called him the right name. You had failed, obviously. Put it on my tab , you thought. You screamed it in your mind, punishing yourself for your mistake: Soap, Soap, Soap…

“C’mon,” he held you by the arm, “I’m out back.”

He loaded you into his Jeep and climbed into the driver’s side, adjusting the knobs for air and music. Some early aughts alt rock was blaring too loudly, and he cut it down, apologizing under his breath. His car smelled like cigarettes and beach sand. It was cleaner than it should’ve been. You felt too hot and too cold, and you wanted to sleep, so you did. 

You woke with a jolt after the short ride had ended, and he had you in his arms, nestled close to his chest. He felt you come to and he whispered, 

“Shh, lass. We’re almost in. Gonna get you some water and a paracetamol, and you’ll be right as rain in the mornin’.”

“God,” you groaned, “Soap, I’m so sorry. I didn’t really eat anything, and I -”

“Tha’s fine, hen. You’re alright. We’ve all been there, trust.”

He deposited you on his bed, pulling off your shoes and tucking you in. Then, he was gone and back in a flash of your semi-unconscious state. He handed you the pills and the water. It was cool in your hot mouth. 

“Here, lass. Take that for me. Tha’s it. Good girl.”

You groaned, feeling sick with drunken stupor and sick with drunken desire all at the same time. 

“And, hey,” he bent his face so he was eye-level with you as you lay back down, “Call me Johnny.”

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Chapter 03