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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 5 months

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i dream, now, of a normal life with you ; suguru geto

synopsis; suguru isn’t a lightweight. this is your first time actually seeing him drunk — though maybe it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he’d be the sappy kind.

word count; 9.4k (..... i got carried away ok)

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader (shoko calls u "girl" but in a "girl help" way not a gendered way), written w a no curses au in mind, sugu is a sappy emotional drunk i said what i said, sickening amounts of fluff, depictions of intoxication, reader is averse to alcohol, sugu wants to marry u so bad it makes him look silly, lots of emotions & lots of love <33

a/n; this fic has been ROTTING in my drafts for the longest time but its super precious to me and now i finally get to post it!! @softgirlgonehaywire & @hayakawalove ily ty for being interested in sappy!sugu this is a treat for u <33

the bar isn’t all that far off from your apartment.

it’s a short distance, really. walk straight ahead, until you reach the record store that suguru likes to frequent, and then take a right; a minute or two uphill, and then you’ll be able to see the blue of the sea. once you’re there, all that’s left is to look for mellow golden lighting and descend a set of stairs.

which is what you’re currently doing, popsicle in hand, loose clothes and comfortable shoes on as you wallow in the mellow summer evening. everything is blue — the dark shade of the sky, and your ice pop, pastel and sweet, tasting of pure youth. the hoodie you threw on is a rich cobalt, suguru’s in name but yours in spirit. he only wears it when you complain that it doesn’t smell like him anymore.

humming a jolly tune, you take a sharp turn, allowing the summer sensations to curl around your subconscious. blissed out and content.

you were so, so bored — stuck at home with no one to keep you company, no one to mumble snarky commentary about the show playing on tv, no one to run their fingers through your hair while your head rests in their lap. pure torture, really, being faced with the consequences of your own actions. after you stupidly told suguru you’d be okay on your own.

he even asked you twice, just to be sure, even told you that he’d prefer you to join him on his night out. and again, you declined; because it’s been so long since he had some time alone with shoko and satoru, and you were feeling a little tired anyways.

so he gave in. heading out, with a promise to bring back a tub of your favorite ice cream, leaving you with the apartment to yourself. did you come to regret your little white lie? maybe. possibly.

but everything worked out in the end.

a pleasant breeze caresses your skin, brushing against the apple of your cheek, and you watch as peach blossoms dance in a faraway park. cicadas cling to every tree in sight, buzzing a pleasant tune, mingling with the giddy giggles of high school students enjoying their summer vacation. it’s been raining for a couple of days; you can still smell it in the air, feel it in the low tinge of humidity clinging to your skin, still hear suguru’s insistence that you bring an umbrella with you to work — just in case.

but today, the skies were clear, and it’s late, not too humid but not too chilly. and the stars are out, glimmering in that fuzzy sea of mellow cerulean, leaking out like little marbles cast into space. falling down, down, down, close enough for you to see. from here, it looks as if they’re waving. you resist the urge to wave back.

peace. bliss. a nostalgia so vibrant you could drown in it, feel it lick at your ankles like soft sea foam.

eager to scratch a certain itch in your brain, attention span zipping from one street vendor to the pop music blasting from a couple streets away, you take your phone out from your pocket. absently scrolling through your messages, until you get to the ones shoko sent you just ten minutes ago. the ones that brought you out here, into a summer evening soon to slip into nightfall, ones that have you walking to the bar you chose not to join them at.

messages that still have you pushing back a bout of giggles, chewing lazily on your ramune ice pop with a giddy smile.

sho 🚬: come get ur man sho 🚬: he’s drunk. sho 🚬: like DRUNK drunk

you: …… um. you: what happened to hi? hello?? good evening???

sho 🚬: no time for that. look sho 🚬: [ image ] sho 🚬: he looks so goofy lol

unable to resist the temptation, you press the pad of your finger against the screen — opening the image attachment, just to drink in the sight once again. what you see is a certain man, slumped over in his seat, cheek smooshed against the wooden table in front of him. messy hair, no longer tied into a bun, cascading down his shoulders and back. from the little you can see of his face, his skin is flushed a light pink, and his eyes are closed, fingers still curled around an empty beer jug.

like a sleepy puppy.

a coo tiptoes on your tongue, but you bite down on your lip in an effort to stop it, just grinning at your screen with pure adoration in your lovesick eyes.

he’s drunk, alright. an unfamiliar sight, but not at all unwelcome. because he’s cute, terribly so, so cute that it hurts, even when he’s obviously wasted. it’s almost funny — you know their drinking habits. shoko holds her liquor so well that it’s a little horrifying, and satoru can get wasted if he has more than a sip of it. and suguru?

suguru never gets drunk. he barely even drinks. out of consideration for satoru, maybe, or you. probably both. that’s just how he is; you thought he hated fish for years, because he was always so eager to give you the best bites of the sushi rolls you ordered. turns out he was just indulging you.

so, to be frank — the idea of him suddenly being drunk is a little bit of a shocker. but it’s also kind of exciting, in a ridiculous way. new, fun, just what you need when you’re bored out of your mind.

(or maybe you’re just happy to have an excuse to go see him.)

you: NOOOO you: MY BABY 😭😭😭 you: what did u guys DO to him???

sho 🚬: satoru and him made a bet 😐 you know how they are sho 🚬: he drank like a divorced mother of four ive never seen something so beautiful

you: …. you: have i told you that you’re both terrible

sho 🚬: u love us <33 sho 🚬: anyway he’s been asking me where u are for the past ten minutes pls come i can’t stand him sho 🚬: he’s crying.

you: HUH???????? you: WHY????????????????

sho 🚬: dude i dont know sho 🚬: please come get him he’s being so sappy that satoru’s abt to throw up

you: ???? okok 😭 you: im omw ig??

sho 🚬: girl hurry he just told me he genuinely appreciates my presence in his life 😐

an exhale — laced with deep amusement — drops from your lips and spills into the summer air. it tastes like a memory from long ago.

slipping your phone back into your pocket, you raise your gaze, searching for a glimmer of goldish light. soaking up the scent of the ocean, sparkling on the border of your peripheral. salty and sweet.

no matter how hard you try, all you can think of is that certain someone, waiting for you to pick him up. your mind keeps drifting back to the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, the way his hair falls over his face when he leans down, the sound he makes when he stretches in the morning.

you want to see him. badly. you want him near, want to feel the familiar warmth of his presence, want to see him smile and laugh and sigh and raise his eyebrow at your antics.

so there isn’t any time to waste. you’re walking towards that familiar set of stairs before you know it, shoes hitting the asphalt with a mantra of satisfying thuds.

and when you step in through the opened door, you’re immediately engulfed by a sense of overflowing comfort. mellow, warm lights, the soft buzzing of static from an old radio, low citypop beats trailing through the air. the bartender by the counter gives you a curt nod in greeting, before motioning towards a certain table. it’s over in the corner, covered in beer jugs and fancy glasses, with three beauties seated around it.

satoru notices you first.

a bright grin finds its way onto his face, and he waves you over giddily, happily. barely contained excitement in the motion. shoko’s gaze follows his, flitting over to meet yours — and you think she mouths an oh, thank god, before taking another sip from her glass. she brings a hand up in greeting when you come closer, and you can’t see her smile, but there’s a crinkle to her eyes; a warmth in them that you’d never miss.

”hey, guys.”

”yo!” satoru chirps, beaming in a way that’s so distinctly him it makes you soften. he looks so comfortable in his seat, with a cocktail you know is non-alcoholic and probably too sweet for anyone but him to stomach. giggling to himself, leaning over to poke suguru’s cheek, with a teasing declaration of your chaperone is here!

and there he is.

the man you came here for, still slumped over in his seat, unresponsive. not for long. as the lilt of your voice reaches his ears, his eyes flutter open, in a bout of recognition — even in the drunken state he’s in. an immediate sensation of familiarity creeps into his veins, rousing him from his cozy, half-asleep stupor.

he doesn’t even grumble over the way satoru keeps poking at his cheek, interest and attention focused solely on a certain someone. you, your presence.

and when your eyes meet his, he lights up.

it’s precious, you think, how his eyes widen, blooming with genuine affection, so endearing you could kiss him right then and there. his face is flushed, and his hair is tousled, and the warm lighting of the bar paints him in a golden hue. so perfect for him, your star in the sky.

a smile spreads across his lips, big and happy and warm, and you can’t help but mirror it.

(gosh, he’s cute.)

with a dizzy kind of eagerness, suguru sits up, palms flush against the table to support his weight. he stumbles out of his seat, paying no heed to satoru’s amused huff of careful! or the rattling of fragile glass.

it only takes a few uncoordinated steps for him to reach you, where you haphazardly lean against the wall, watching him amusedly. that delighted smile never leaves his lips, as his arms go to curl around your waist, big and heavy, his jaw finding its rightful place on the curve of your shoulder.

”baby,” he drawls, fond and affectionate. breathing you in. ”sweetheart. my angel.”

a flustered puff of laughter slips from your lips, stumbling a little under his weight. his voice is syrupy sweet, overflowing with love and adoration, soft in a way that has your knees buckling. a little raspy. murmured right into your ear, sending pleasant shivers down your spine.

he’s too sweet for you to handle, really, even sweeter than satoru’s overpriced cocktail. and he smells the same as always; a blend between coffee grounds, cigarette smoke and rain, one that never fails to soothe you. even when it’s tangled up with a vague but vivid stench of alcohol, courtesy of the drinking he’s been doing until now.

you crinkle your nose, but don’t let go of him, nuzzling your cheek against the side of his head. words buzzing with warmth. ”hey, sugu.”

suguru only squeezes you tighter, content to have you in his arms. finally, his world makes sense again. all he can do is bask in your voice, warmth, scent — he’s just so enamored by it all. almost in a trance, heartstrings dancing along to the beat of your presence, your very existence, that appears to him as something almost angelic. soft and familiar, something that feels right at home when it’s tucked into his embrace. where he can keep it safe.

”missed you…” he murmurs, sleepy, smearing an open mouthed kiss against the crook of your neck. ”i love you s’much…”

a chuckle. ”i love you too,” you echo, running a steady hand over his back. your voice is laced with something teasing, but awfully fond. ”you really are drunk, aren’t you?”

”mm…” he only hums, cheek pressed flush against your soft skin. ”’m sorry…” he mumbles, stifling a yawn. he sounds a little guilty, and it makes you want to coo. pull his cheek a little.

instead, you laugh. amusement vowen into the bubbly noise. ”it’s fine, sugu. c’mon — let’s go home, alright?”

at that, satoru visibly reacts, placing his glass on the table with a soft clink before getting up to stretch. he grabs suguru’s discarded jacket, letting it hang off his arm as he walks over to the two of you.

”i’ll help you carry him,” he smiles, always so dependable. so ready to be of service. maybe a little too eager to carry suguru around like a sack of potatoes.

a smile blooms on your face, and satoru gives you a playful wink. shoko just leans back in her seat, stretching idly. it feels like home with them there.

”i’ll stay here,” she hums, a faint grin tugging at her lips. ”he’s your problem now.”

”got it.” you meet her lidded eyes, sharing an amused look as satoru tries to coax suguru away from you, pulling at his cheek while he whines and clings to the fabric of your clothing.

finally, he relents, and you look back at the table with a grin. ”see you later, sho’.”

a smile is the only response you get, but it’s enough. it’s her, the same as always, still sipping from a glass of expensive whiskey and raising her hand in a silent see you. relaxed and cool, and so very lovely.

with one arm over satoru’s shoulder and the other clinging to your hoodie, suguru stirs.

”shoko…” he groans, craning his head to look back at her, even as satoru makes a move to leave. ”don’t drink too much. and watch out for strangers…”

he trails off, blinking drowsily, a protective tone to his voice. worried. awfully like him. neither you nor satoru can resist the chuckle you indulge in, but shoko just rolls her hazel eyes.

”i don’t need to hear that from you,” she scoffs, tinged with amusement and what you’re almost certain is embarrassment. there’s a fondness to her snark, one you’d never miss.

(shoko will always be shoko. you know that she appreciates suguru’s concern, even if she doesn’t want to show it.)

”alright, c’mon,” satoru quips, slapping suguru’s back with a grin. ”there, there, big guy. let’s get you home, hm?”

just as you suspected, he doesn’t let you help, doing all the heavy lifting on his own. not breaking a single sweat, flaunting his strength as he hoists suguru up the steps — while you do nothing but follow, a light jacket hanging off your arm.

cold midnight air embraces you, slathering your cheeks with the essence of summer as your shoes meet the asphalt. satoru smiles, a low exhale escaping him, dusting off his hands. ”there we go.”

suguru stumbles towards you, no longer caged in, slumping against your shoulder with a satisfied sigh. blinking slowly, as you link arms, his muddled senses adjusting to the outside world. a pleasantly blue sky, a sun long set, and a string of lamp posts to light up the street ahead of you. artificial fireflies, watching over the town you love so dearly.

you part your lips, and a soft exhale slips out, dripping with fondness. ”thanks, satoru,” you smile, meeting his gaze.

”don’t mention it,” he waves you off, but you know he appreciates it; always eager to be praised. ”can you bring him back by yourself?”

”yeah, we’ll be fine. it’s close, anyway. don’t worry.”

a hum buzzes in his throat, and his cobalt gaze drifts upwards, to bask in the starry sky. a moment passes, and then he’s looking back at you and suguru; a soft and earnest smile playing at his lips. so sincere you want to reach out, cup his cheek, make sure he knows how loved he is.

”i’ll go back to shoko, then,” he chirps. bubbly and graceful, giddy and playful. always so lovely. ”gotta make sure she stays out of trouble.”

a chuckle. you mirror his smile. ”of course.”

and with that, your precious best friend makes a move to return to the bar, taking a decisive step away from you. before he can get too far, though, a certain hand reaches out to hold onto his sleeve — keeping him still.

satoru turns around. blinking once, then twice, in confusion; faced with none other than suguru, still slumped against you. a little out of it, sleepy and disoriented, yawning quietly, but his eyes are as clear as ever. caring and sentimental.

his gaze cuts to the bone of things. it’s something you’ve grown used to.

”thanks, satoru,” he murmurs, letting go of said man’s shirt. the words that spill from his lips are straightforward, a little tactless, but overflowing with earnest appreciation. ”you’re my best friend.”

a moment passes. the stars burn in silence.

satoru blinks.

then he sighs, with what you know is nothing more than feigned annoyance. masking his embarrassment, the same way shoko did, the same way suguru always does. your repressed, beloved little losers.

”yeah, yeah. i got it,” he pats suguru’s shoulder, once, twice. not looking at him. ”you’re such a sap, you know that? geez.”

a grin crawls up to rest on your lips, fresh mischief blooming in your eyes. ”not gonna call him your best friend back?” you tease, a soft tilt of your head.

satoru gives you a glare, playful, one you can’t physically see from behind his shades but still somehow sense. ”don’t add fuel to the fire,” he grins, with a halfhearted flick to your forehead.

before you can bicker further, suguru yawns, loudly, closing his eyes and nuzzling into you. you share an amused look with satoru, until he shakes his head fondly.

”take care of him, alright?”

”i will. you guys have fun!”

and at last, satoru turns on his heel, coupled with a smile and a lazy wave. but suguru calls out to him once more, unwilling to part ways without saying his piece. so sentimental, so loving it comes to him like breathing.

”bye-bye, satoru,” he slurs, voice loud enough for the entire street to hear, tired and honest. raising his arm in a lazy wave. ”i love you!”

”go home already!” satoru shouts, descending down the steps with a flush to his cheeks that you’ll tease him for later. his soft laughter is carried away by the breeze, sweet and saccharine.

(satoru will always be satoru. you know that he loves suguru back, even if he doesn’t want to say it out loud.)

with a faint chuckle, melting into the summer air, you tug on suguru’s arm. ”alright,” you chirp, looking up at him. ”let’s go!”

he seems a little more awake now, at least, trying to match your steps. meanwhile, you do what you can to support his weight; he’s stumbling a bit, but you don’t mind. if anything, his weight is a comfort, your arms linked together like a lucky charm. a safe harbour.

suguru is acting kind of like a big puppy, gazing at you with hearts in his eyes. a little meek, clinging to you, trailing after you pliantly. he’s a little dizzy, still, and he needs you to get back home in one piece. it makes you puff out your chest, stand up straighter. makes you feel protective of your 6’2 boyfriend, all toned muscle and broad shoulders, the personification of scary dog privilege. but he needs you right now.

a soft bout of laughter spills into the air, as you try to ignore his heavy stare. it’s impossible, though — so you turn your gaze to meet his own, and he practically glows under the sound of your giggles, that cheeky smile you’re wearing. ”you okay, suguru?”

his eyes soften. silently, he runs a thumb over the knots of your knuckle, smoothing down your skin, thick fingers intertwined with yours.

he looks deep into your eyes, and a soft hum of affirmation buzzes in his throat.

”i’m just so happy,” he grins, with a sincerity that has your heart doing flips inside your ribcage. it flutters, flutters, flutters, in the wake of his unbridled joy. it buzzes like it wants to break out.

suguru has this dreamy look on his face, one you can do nothing but admire, painted over with fluorescent moonlight and pure summer bliss. one that reminds you a little of high school rooftops, midnight road trips, what it means to be in love.

you nudge him, softly, with the arm that’s tangled up in his own. tilting your head, teasing words on the tip of your tongue. ”you know, i never took you for a sappy drunk.”

suguru's only response is a cute little mmrn, steps heavy as he leans on you for support. trying his best to carry himself, not wanting to inconvenience you, but it’s just a little tough. especially when he feels this soft, this grateful — this blessed.

a giddy, dreamy smile tugs at his lips. his amber gaze travels up, towards the little pale dots of star clusters all across the night sky, gleaming like milk poured over rich coffee. then he exhales; a soft, blissful little sound. ”i’m so lucky.”

a moment passes, silently. in the distance, cicadas buzz. with a patient smile, you admire him, the reflection of starlight in his eyes. suguru has this forlorn look, etched into his expression, like he’s seeing something that isn’t quite there.

”i have satoru and shoko…” he mumbles, just loud enough for you to hear. as if he’s tasting the words on his tongue, as if he can’t quite believe them himself. that’s how lucky he feels, sometimes.

a nod. ”they love you a bunch, you know?”

(they do. they’re both horrible at saying it out loud, but you know they do. you know that they love suguru, just as much as he loves them, even if none of them are good at putting it into words. perhaps they don’t really even need to, in the first place.)

suguru mirrors the soft nod of your head, bangs falling over his eyes as he does. ”and i love them, too.” his smile grows. ”they’re my best friends.”

absently, you reach a hand out, brushing away the strands of hair obscuring his vision. and suguru stirs, his gaze shifting until it falls on you. like a moth to a flame. there’s something indescribable in his eyes, soft and heavy and tender and true.

”— and i have you.”

a stutter of your heartbeat, a jolt throughout your chest. his stare almost burns, but you can’t avert your gaze — suguru looks positively lovesick. admiring you with a dreamy gaze, as if he can’t believe you’re real.

he reaches a hand out; cradling your face with one big palm, the rough pads of his fingers smoothing down your skin so very gently. smearing his fondness from your jaw to your cheekbone, so loving your breath hitches in the back of your throat.

a soft, content sigh spills into the air, like a prayer that doesn’t need any words. his smile is serene.

”my angel.”

as the words fall, that peaceful smile of his changes shape, shifting into a big, giddy grin. it lights up his whole face. a chuckle leaves his lips, content and delighted. ”i’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

and for a moment, you fear that your heart will stop beating entirely. frozen, listening to the lullaby of your heartbeat resounding in your ears.

suguru has always been frighteningly good at flustering you — but isn’t this a little unfair? you clear your throat, hoping to regain some composure. it’s tough, though. your words could never measure up to his, could never flow as freely, but they’re honest. wholly and thoroughly. and maybe that’s enough.

”we’re the luckiest in the world, too, then,” you echo, smiling, words barely above a whisper. willing yourself to meet his gaze. ”since we have you.”

suguru looks into your eyes. there’s starlight inside them, he thinks, shining brightly, gleaming in the dark. with the hazy filter of intoxication clouding his mind, it’s all he can think. you’re his northern star, his lighthouse. his one and only saving grace.

(you’re so, so pretty.)

a pause. after a silent moment, spent etching your features into his retinas, suguru tilts his head. his expression is unreadable.

— he boops your nose.

you blink. once, twice, caught entirely off guard; and suguru giggles. soft, giddy little breaths falling from his lips like marbles, strewn over the sand of a warm beach. his eyes are crinkled at the edges, and his smile is sweet, meeting your surprised gaze with a honeyed coo. ”you’re so cute, baby.”

silence. you look up at him.

then you sigh, exasperated, more flustered than you’d like to admit. god. okay, he’s really out of it. for some reason, you still thought you could get a good one-liner in, but of course he had to ruin that by being a little tease.

you grab onto his bicep. gaze fixed straight ahead, giving it a tug. your steps are more decisive now, and suguru follows you happily. ”alright, alright. c’mon,” you beckon, slightly gruff. ”we’re almost there.”

when you finally reach the familiar front door of your apartment, you exhale a deep sigh, laced with pure relief. limbs tired from dragging suguru up the stairs, mind muddled and sleepy and senses practically engulfed by a man still clinging to you like his life depends on it.

after fumbling with your keys and hearing the click of the lock, you take a victorious step over the threshold, and a familiar scent greets you. soothing, comforting, a blend between fresh laundry and leftover curry and blooming hydrangeas. filling your senses with a fervent kind of bliss. of course, suguru’s does the same; intimately intertwined with the scent of home. that everlasting, never-changing blend.

with him clinging to you like this, it’s almost suffocating — but you truly don’t mind. suguru’s warm, and sweet, and being close to him like this makes you feel at peace. his hands rest on your hips, his jaw on your shoulder, and he adamantly refuses to let go of you for even a second. it’d be annoying if he wasn’t so cute, if he wasn’t suguru geto, if you weren’t so horrendously weak for him.

what you don’t know is that suguru has an agenda. one that isn’t just i want to hug the love of my life, although partially that as well. suguru has a plan, one he’s been absentmindedly dreaming of for the past five minutes; he’s a man on a mission.

but he’s patient. always has been, always for you. so he waits, and waits, for you to hang his jacket up, for you to kick your shoes off your feet. and when you’re finally, finally finished, suguru leans in to kiss you.

— you block his mouth with the palm of your hand.

a moment passes. silent, almost tense. in his stupor, suguru’s mind can’t quite seem to comprehend the situation before him; he doesn’t understand why he isn’t pressing a kiss to your lips, right now, why he’s kissing the skin of your palm. he doesn’t understand why you look so troubled, a faint guilt simmering in your eyes. he just doesn’t understand.

all he can do is blink, dumbly, surprised. a question written on his features clear as day.

”well, it’s just…” you sputter, sheepishly. avoiding his gaze, a little guilty. ”you know. since you’ve been drinking, and all…”

and it hurts, you think. it hurts a lot more than it should. it hurts to reject him, hurts to see the way he deflates at your clarification. like a big kicked puppy. like you just threatened to throw him out into the street.

suguru removes your hand, gently, holding it in his own as he speaks. those amber eyes are downcast, and a soft pout rests on his lips. the sight alone feels like a dagger to your chest.

”but…” he frowns, voice awfully meek. he looks so sad. ”i wanna kiss you…”

a soft sigh leaves your lips, before you can think to hold it in. oh, he’s being so unfair. guilt clings to your mind, an itch you yearn to scratch, and all you want is to kiss his pout away. but you really, really don’t want to kiss his alcohol-soaked lips.

so you settle for the second best option.

”’m sorry, sugu,” you coo, reaching a hand out to cradle his cheek. he leans into your touch, still pouting, and you tug a little at his bottom lip. wasting no time in closing the narrow distance between you.

the kisses you press against his skin are soft. peppering kisses all across his face; ghosting your lips along his jaw, trailing towards his cheekbones, and settling on his forehead. tiny little pecks, wherever you can reach. your voice is soft, muffled into his skin between butterfly kisses. ”tomorrow, okay?”

and suguru seems to brighten up a little, melting under the contact, exhaling in pure bliss. he fervently returns the treatment, planting open mouthed kisses all over your face, respecting your wishes and avoiding your lips. they’re a little sloppy, but you don’t mind.

it does make you a little flustered, though. with his palms cradling your face, engulfing you, there’s nothing you can do except drown in his affection, the love he showers you with. it tickles — and suguru’s smile only grows, at the sound of your soft giggles. his cheeks are starting to hurt.

the state he’s in is just a little bit hazy. despite his initial dejection, he no longer minds that he can’t feel your lips against his, disappointment warded off by your smile and laughter alone. he thinks you’re so, so cute, and all he wants is to kiss you forever.

but you have other plans.

and before you know it, you’re both curled up in bed, limbs all tangled up beneath the blankets, bodies pressed together as suguru cages you in. he squeezes you tightly, hugging you close, practically melting into you. usually, it’d be so easy to fall asleep like this. with suguru cradling you, covering your body with his own, warm and safe. he’s like a furnace.

but right now, it’s a little tough. you’re kept awake by open mouthed, ticklish kisses pressed against your skin, supplied by the love of your life. it’s sweet, but he’s being far too distracting — as soon as your consciousness begins to fade into the fuzzy realm of sleep, he leaves a sloppy kiss against your collarbone, and you’re jolted awake once more.

”suguuu,” you whine, dragging his name out with childish inclination. ”we need to sleep…”

”sorry,” he only murmurs, muffled into your skin. he doesn’t stop, though, planting a wet smooch on your cheek, and then another. you squirm a little in his hold, and he emits a shaky breath. ”jus’ love you so much…”

suguru knows that he needs to stop. he knows that both of you need to sleep, that you need to rest up. that he needs to recover from the intoxicated state he’s fully aware that he’s in — but he just can’t seem to follow through with it. every cell in his body burns with a certain desire, a need to shower you in love, and it’s unendurable. with every kiss, every giggle he manages to pull from your lips, suguru’s heart fills up just a little more.

your presence surrounds him, like a weighted blanket, and he clings to it with a desperation he never knew before you.

in the midst of his feverish consciousness, you’re all his muddled mind can think about. the way you fit together with him like a puzzle piece, like he was formed in the shape of someone meant to hold you. like you were formed in the shape of his embrace. with you pressed up against him, limbs tangled with his, everything feels so right.

but it’s so overwhelming.

you’re so, so close, so close he’s practically engulfed by your scent, your touch, everything that makes his heart burn with devotion. it’s beating so viscerally in his ribcage, stirring the protective instinct inside him; he just wants you to stay close, by his side, wants to keep you safe and happy. wants to make you feel loved.

suguru’s heart feels wet and raw and bare, fully exposed for you to see. beating just for you.

with the alcohol inside his veins, and the nostalgia of the summer evening on his mind, everything weighs on him just a little too heavily. everything feels just a little too much. every sensation, every emotion, every sappy thought. all of it together is almost too much for him to handle.

all he can think of is you. how lucky he is, to have met you, to have gotten to know you. how much you’ve changed him, changed him for the better, how much of him is directly tied to your existence.

suguru never truly appreciated his name until you came into his life. it was always no more than a simple fact, a gift from his parents that he hadn’t asked for. something natural, that he didn’t question, didn’t think about.

but you say his name with such warmth.

he wants to hear you say it, over and over again, forever. suguru — in that sweet, lovely voice of yours. better yet, just sugu, a cutesy, silly nickname he could never bring himself to actually hate. he just wants to hear you call out to him, with that warmth of yours, the one that never fails to soothe him. no matter how tired he is, how stressed. how much everything else weighs down on him.

at the end of the day, he’s simply your sugu. and that’s all he ever really wants to be.

with a hazy filter clouding his senses, coaxing him into closing his eyes, suguru should give in. he should fall asleep, let you fall asleep. but he can’t bring himself to stop thinking about it; he just loves you so wholly. who you are, what you do. as an equal, an individual, a little galaxy tucked into a body made of flesh and blood. no matter what you’re doing, no matter where you are.

and right now, you’re here, with him. curled up in bed, in your shared apartment, inhaling the same air, exhaling at the same time. by his side, when you could be anywhere else in the world.

his heart is yours. that’s all suguru can bring himself to think, the only coherent thought he can cling to and echo in his head. his heart is yours. forever and ever.

he makes no attempt to stop the tears from pooling in his eyes, even as he feels them cling to his lashes, even as his breathing clogs up in the back of his throat. they’re proof of his devotion, his carefully nurtured love. growing over the years, into something almost sacred, a kind of faith. something so fervent he wouldn’t dare deny himself of feeling it.

he can’t hold in a faint sniffle, either, just barely audible. one that breaks your heart in two. it aches, aches, aches. suguru is gazing at you with glassy eyes, a sight you aren’t used to seeing — but he also looks so genuinely glad. his tears aren’t ones of sadness. you know, because you know him.

”aw, honey…” you coo, the pads of your fingers reaching out to cradle his cheek. despite your efforts, your voice wavers when you speak, little more than a whisper. ”don’t cry... you’ll make me cry, too.”

suguru places his larger palm over yours, choking on another sniffle. the sight renders you completely helpless — you want so desperately to stop his tears from falling, but a part of you is too touched to speak. too mesmerized by how beautiful he is, translucent tears illuminated by softly flickering moonrays, lashes glimmering like shooting stars.

all you can do is smooth a thumb right under his eye, wiping away a stray tear with enough tenderness to stitch his heart back together. suguru emits a shaky breath.

”’m sorry,” he sniffles, closing his eyes. nuzzling into the crook of your neck. ”i’m just so happy… love you so much… you mean so, so much to me, i…”

an exhale, a little breathless, tears soaking through the material of the shirt you’re wearing. his shirt. that realization makes him cry even more, a shuddering breath that shatters like glass when it drops from his tongue.

and then, in a voice so quiet you barely hear it, a soft whisper worth a million words:

”i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

and it hurts. your heart aches so sincerely, thorns curling around your ribcage, because suguru is crying, and he’s telling you all this. with such an honest intonation that you don’t dare doubt him, even for a second. heavy thumps of blood rush through your veins; he’s still clinging to you, sniffling into your neck, and you’re so in love with him that you almost can’t comprehend it.

all you can do is press a kiss to his shoulder, chaste and tender, and hug him just a little tighter. echoing his words, in earnest, desperately trying to keep your voice from breaking apart. ”i love you, too. more than anything.” a sigh, full of wonder. little butterfly kisses scattered across the expanse of his neck. ”you mean the world to me. honestly.”

with a smile against his skin, you hope so tenderly that the soft kisses will comfort him, will stop the tears from falling.

”my sweet boy,” you murmur, lovingly, because he is. the sweetest boy you’ll ever know. suguru shudders when you press your lips against his jaw. ”i’m so, so lucky.”

with the combined efforts of your kisses, the alcohol slumbering inside his veins, and the tears running down his cheeks, suguru begins to feel awfully tired. sinking into sleep’s embrace, like a sailor lost at sea. comforted by the glimmer of a lighthouse, just out of reach.

everything feels right. he’s safe, and happy, and in love. so hopelessly, blissfully in love.

the exhaustion creeps up on him, tidal waves embracing a shore, beckoning him into closing his weary eyes. a yawn leaves his lips, and he shifts a little in your hold. you’re smoothing down the back of his head, almost protectively, and sleep is only a flicker away for the both of you. with the last of his strength, suguru snuggles just a little further into you, nose pressed up against your neck, close enough that he feels the flutter of your heartbeat.

”wanna be with you forever,” he murmurs, sleepily, stifling another bout of yawns. his smile is sweet and dreamy. ”gonna marry you one day…”

a moment passes.

for a second, you think your heart does actually cease beating entirely.

swallowing a gulp, you allow yourself the luxury of an inhale — and fresh air fills your lungs. grounding. all you can hear is the rapid beating of your own heart, heavy thumps reverberating in your ears. warmth flows through your entire body.

marry.

the word is spoken so casually, so sincerely, as if he’s said it countless times before. as if he’s repeated it, over and over again in his mind, just to get used to the idea. as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. marriage. something so foreign, so scary, enough to send shivers down every narrow of your skeleton. such a large step to take.

(but suguru says it with such tenderness.)

”… okay,” you whisper, at last. breathless. ”i’ll be waiting, then.”

there’s nothing else to say. you don’t know if suguru is even conscious enough to hear you, let alone understand the full weight of your words, of his own words. but you don’t mind.

a soft smile lingers on your lips, as you stroke his hair, mind hazy and limbs heavy. nuzzling your cheek against the side of his head, full of affection. dripping from your hands down to the column on his throat, through his windpipe, down to his heart.

”goodnight, sugu.” you press a kiss to his messy hair, tender and chaste. ”i love you.”

an incoherent mutter leaves his lips, in response, one you can’t quite make out — but you don’t need to. because you already know what it means, in the same way you know that the sky is blue.

(an echo buried deep within his subconscious, voiced without effort, as easy as breathing.

i love you, too.)

the sizzling of a pan and the whirring of a coffee machine form a beautiful morning symphony, bouncing off the walls of your kitchen. to your ears, and your still sleepy brain, it’s a soothing sound — coaxing soft little melodic hums from the depths of your throat.

with such a tantalizing aroma in the air, a blend between espresso and pancake batter, you can’t help but buzz with a mellow, groggy kind of joy.

honestly, you're beginning to understand suguru’s fondness for the morning hours. waking up to his soft snores and content expression was more than enough to give you the energy you needed to get out of bed; all sleepy and relaxed and pretty, with hazy morning sunrays kissing up his bare skin, caressing his messy bedhead.

a rare sight, awfully precious. a part of you wanted to stay in bed and admire him all morning, but the thought of taking care of him coaxed you into leaving. it’s the least you could do, really — after seeing him so sincere, so open and vulnerable.

hopefully, his headache won’t be too brutal when he wakes up. you left some hangover pills on the nightstand, courtesy of shoko’s advice: just get him ibuprofen and coffee. works like a charm. are you a little worried about her nonchalance? maybe. but you trust her judgement. they’re a handful, but you love them — even when they’re drunk or hungover.

which is why you’re standing in the kitchen, engulfed by the morning sunlight, in front of a sizzling pan. trying your very best not to burn the pancakes you’re making, patiently waiting for the coffee to be done.

in your blissful stupor, caught up with thoughts of suguru and breakfast and forevers, you don’t notice another presence coming up behind you.

two arms wrap around your waist, and a jaw attaches itself to the curve of your shoulder. you startle, a little, jolting at the contact — but then you recognize that telltale scent, the familiar weight of his arms, and immediately melt into the embrace.

suguru breathes out a raspy chuckle, amused at your surprise.

a sigh slips from your lips, content. ”good morning,” you hum, placing the palm of your hand on his forearm. suguru shifts a little, getting more comfortable as he leans against you. tenderly, not too much weight. he’s delicate like that.

”g’morning,” he rasps, leftover sleep clinging to the syllables. the usual smoothness of his voice is coupled with a deep, rough kind of tilt, one that always accompanies it in the morning. your heartbeat picks up, silently.

suguru smiles. dreamy, giddy, because you just looked so pretty, in the morning light, hair still a tad messy. humming happily, swaying slightly side to side. so irresistible. he’s beginning to understand why you love sleeping in so much; getting to wrap his arms around you like this, instead of the other way around, doesn’t feel bad at all.

he squeezes you just a little tighter, hoping it’ll convey his gratitude. there are holes in his memory, last night no more than a blurry sequence of still images, but some bits and pieces remain intact. he remembers getting drunk in a way he hasn’t since he made that bet with satoru back in high school — and he remembers that you were there to take care of him.

a smile tugs at his lips. a little giddy, butterflies erupting in his chest. he’s so damn lucky.

”thanks for taking care of me yesterday, sweetheart.”

a hum. you smile, sheepishly, patting his arm. ”don’t need to thank me for that. how do you feel?”

suguru smiles. you feel it, against your skin, a chaste kiss on your neck. ”better.”

the low purring of the coffee machine has stopped, but the sizzling of the pan remains. from beyond the opened windows, you can hear the chirping of cicadas, melodic and serene. singing a summery tune. both of you soak in the preciousness of the moment, the fragile silence, before suguru breaks it.

”everything from last night is kinda fuzzy,” he admits, clearing his throat. just a tad sheepish. you simply hum, a low noise of acknowledgement, and he continues. ”i don’t really remember anything… ’m sorry, baby. i hope i didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

your lips curl up into a tiny smile. such a sweetheart — always worrying about you. always so caring and attentive. eager to reassure him, you smooth over the skin of his arm with your thumb. ”not at all.”

then you’re taking a couple steps back, moving from the stove, and suguru follows. you turn yourself around to meet his gaze, his arms still attached to your waist, a comforting weight.

a grin blooms on your lips, a little teasing, and a flicker of mischief shines in your eyes. ”you were cute, you know.”

suguru blinks, before emitting a low chuckle. a raspy little thing. ”was i?” he drawls, as you brush his bangs away from his face.

”mhm,” you chirp, eyes crinkled as they meet his own. you just can’t help but want to tease him, a little bit. just a smidge. ”kept going on and on about how much you love us.”

hands moving to cup his face, you squeeze his cheeks softly. and suguru lets you, too tired to resist, only giving you a lazy raise of his brow. there’s a sense of amusement in his eyes, and something in you knows he likes the attention. your teasing words buzz with endearment, akin to a purr. ”my sweet lil’ sugu.”

all he does is lean into your touch, allowing himself to melt into the tenderness of the physical contact. even as you pull at his cheek, earning you a very gentle pinch to your side. but he lets you have your fun. you’re warm, and sweet, and he’s so in love with you he’d probably let you tug his body around however you please.

still, your words leave him just slightly perplexed. he’s still smiling with half-lidded eyes when he asks you to elaborate, basking in the feeling of your thumb smoothing over his cheekbone. ”us?”

your grin widens, by a tad, something deeply amused glimmering in the depths of your iris. ”yep,” you answer, popping the p. for some reason, suguru dreads the teasing edge to your voice. ”me, and shoko, and satoru.”

a moment passes. he stiffens, for a second or two, mind processing the words. then he groans, softly, squeezing his eyes shut.

it makes you laugh, soft and amused, and he can’t help but smile along. despite the dreadful realization you present him with. no wonder he was met with so many notifications when he tapped at the screen of his phone — he didn’t read through any of them, but now he’s apprehensive to do so at all. shoko and satoru can be so goddamn obnoxious when they feel as if they have blackmail on him.

he can see it now, in his mind’s eye; shoko nagging him to run her errands, satoru reminding him of his words every time they have a slight disagreement.

(grab me a coffee. three shots of espresso, one cube of sugar. got it?)

slacker.

(we both know i’m right. don’t be so stubborn, suguru! it’s okay to be wrong sometimes.)

asshole.

(c’mon. you said you loved me, right?

so mean. and here i thought you loved me!)

idiots.

(he does love them. more than anything. even when they’re being absolutely insufferable.)

suguru just sighs, deep and fatigued, already anticipating his doom. ”they’re never gonna let me live it down, are they?”

a giggle slips from your lips, and his heart flutters helplessly. ”probably not. my condolences.”

another sigh. it only makes your smile widen. there’s something awfully delighted, in your eyes, as you cradle his face in your hands. ”well, i thought you were very sweet!”

”yeah, yeah…” he mutters, vaguely amused. placing one of his large palms over your hand, where it rests on his cheek. ”i won’t be doing that again anytime soon.”

a chuckles bubbles up from within your throat. ”aww,” you pout, giving way to a teasing grin. ”that’s a shame. i wanted to hear you talk about how much you love me again.”

suguru blinks.

then he smiles. a very particular smile, characteristic, one you’ve come to associate solely with him. resting somewhere in the intersection between a soft grin and a teasing smirk. a flicker of mischief shines in his eyes, and you realize your mistake.

you can tease suguru all you want; but he'll always turn the tables on you, at the end of the day.

”oh?” he chuckles, fondly, thumb smoothing over the lines of your hand. his eyes gleam, looking straight into yours, shining with something mildly devilish. ”i don’t need to get drunk to tell you that, baby.”

in a smooth motion, one you can’t help but silently envy, suguru intertwines his fingers with yours and brings your hand to his lips. he never once breaks eye contact, gaze heavy as he basks in your flustered expression, planting a soft kiss against your knuckle. reverent.

”i love you. more than anything,” he purrs, lips still lingering on your skin. warm enough to burn. ”you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

a pause. heat crawls up your spine, and a flush rises to your cheeks. you couldn’t stop it if you tried.

”my everything,” he continues, intent on flustering you as much as humanly possible. voice low and smooth, honeyed and deep, and worst of all; terribly earnest. lips trailing over your knuckles, against every knot, so soft that you barely feel it. ”my entire world.”

”okay, okay!” you sputter, an embarrassed hue to your cheeks, your gaze landing on the windowpane to your right. his stare is just too heavy, too deeply in love. overwhelming. ”point taken. nevermind.”

suguru laughs, genuine and full. warm and amused, deep and real, and you catch yourself thinking that you don’t want to go a single day without hearing it. even if it’s at your own expense.

a coo rests on his the tip of his tongue, but he bites it back, opting to lean forward instead. he trails the pads of his fingers along your jaw, touch like a butterfly, lifting your chin up ever so slightly. then he closes the distance between you.

in your throat, your breath hitches.

— but he doesn’t kiss you. suguru stops right in front of your lips, so close you can feel his breath on your skin, taking a moment to simply look into your eyes. and despite how flustered the close proximity makes you, you can’t bring yourself to look away. heart fluttering madly, a string of staccatos against your parted ribs.

a tilt of his head. amber eyes gleaming, crinkled and fond. ”can i kiss you, now?” he asks, grinning softly. hand smoothing down your hip, big and warm, teasing. ”i made sure to brush away all the alcohol. or do you still not want to?”

you pause.

”hey, what happened to not remembering anything?” you pout, narrowing your eyes. the corner of suguru’s bottom lip twitches upwards.

but he only shrugs, feigning nonchalance, a playful glint in his eyes. ”guess i was just that disappointed.”

a giggle flows from your lips. he drinks it in, gazing at you with pure contentment.

”alright, alright... c’mere,” you coo, smile honeyed and sweet. tracing your fingertips along his jaw, brushing a silky strand of hair behind his ear. you take in the sight of him, meeting his lovesick gaze. he squeezes at your hips softly, a little impatient — so you finally lean in.

suguru’s lips are warm, when they meet yours. they taste like sunlight, devoid of any alcoholic flavour, just like he so kindly assured you of. and it’s a little amusing, the thought of him in front of the bathroom sink — desperately scrubbing his teeth, just to get his kissing privileges back. such a dork.

he’s your dork, though.

suguru sighs into the kiss, smiling giddily, satisfied at last. a sound you can’t help but mirror. he deepens it, ever so slightly, fingers squeezing gently at the plush of your waist. a hum of approval buzzes in your throat, and his smile only grows.

when he pulls away, that smile is all you can see, along with the ever so slight flush to his cheeks. a hint of peach dusting his skin, framed by the sunrays caressing his jaw, highlighting his handsome features. breathtaking.

before you have a chance to protest, he’s leaning in again, to press one more chaste kiss to your lips. your heartbeat picks up.

everything finally feels just right.

the warmth of the sizzling pan, the fragrance of freshly made coffee and now-burnt pancakes. the light of the morning sun, scattered across the open space of your apartment, splotches of life painting everything in a heavenly glow. the love in the air, all soft and light and comfortable.

domestic bliss. with suguru, who never seems to change, no matter how many years go by. if you could live in this moment for the rest of your life, forever and ever, you’re sure you’d die happy.

and wow, is that a heavy word. forever.

(but suguru makes it feel so very, very light.)

forever feels a lot more real, like this. cradled in the midst of a drowsy morning, bumping elbows with the man you love most, after getting to take care of him in his most vulnerable state. accepting every part of him, and having him accept you just as fervently.

just this moment alone is worth far more than you could ever comprehend.

suguru, with his warm hands, his familiar embrace. your shared laughter, bouncing off the walls of the kitchen as you try in vain to save your scorched pancakes. and his smile, his fervent devotion, coaxing him into eating them even though they’re burnt at the edges and don’t taste even a quarter as good as his. because you made them, for him, and that makes them taste sweeter than anything.

you stare at him, from across the table, admiring the sight you’ve grown so used to; suguru, with his slightly tousled hair, mug in hand and smile painted on his handsome face. drowned in sunlight, pink petals flitting in through the opened window. you don’t want a single day to ever pass without you seeing this. what does that mean, exactly? you think you know.

it means forever.

(forever, forever, forever. what a pretty word.)

marriage. you think of it, again, let it linger in the depths of your skull, bounce around until you grow just a little more used to it. and it’s a scary thought, for sure. a terrifying thought, even, something so foreign that it makes you nervous. but you truly wouldn’t mind doing this forever — not one bit. not if it’s with him.

and, unbeknownst to you, maybe that promise of forever isn’t all that far off.

maybe it’s only a couple rooms away, hidden within the depths of a certain drawer, until suguru finally gets the courage to bring it out. and maybe, just maybe — that day isn’t all that far off, either.

(suguru smiles at you, from across the table. he thinks you look ethereal, sipping from your morning coffee, blinking tiredly. so sweet and angelic.

all he can think of is forever.)

#finalllyyyyyyy took the time to finish this r u proud of me 👉👈#im very very soft for this sugu in particular :< kinda takes place in the same universe as the breakfast sugu fic !!!!#he’s ur smitten husband-to-be <333 i love to see suguru geto thrive and be happy i think being a househusband could save him #geto x reader #geto x y/n #geto x you #jjk fluff #geto fluff #geto suguru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n

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cookierin-simp · 1 year

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OBEY ME HEADCANONS THAT I WANTED TO BELIEVE ARE CANONS (1)

I was thinking to publish my smut fic about threesome with Lucifer and Diavolo but I realised how long it was so... I'm just going to keep it in my draft... I'll make a new one 4 ya! Meanwhile, enjoy my ridiculous headcanons about demons!

warning : one explicit headcanon.

Beel thought that human is as fragile as an ant so he tried his best not to touch MC (failed, though)

Mammon has a fixation with technology just as much as how Levi enjoyed it

Lucifer have his own collection of S/M toys

Most restaurants in Devildom hang a portrait of Diavolo (it's a thing to hang a portrait of your ruler in any institute)

Satan have wrote few books and was called an author

Barbatos hates it when someone modified his recipe

Luke once modified it to suit the taste of Micheal and Barbatos wasn't angry, rather sad.

Sometimes, Solomon teleported himself to MC's room without any notice, and MC yelled so hard that all of the brothers broke down MC's bedroom door.

Lucifer actually love hanging people/demon from the ceiling because it felt like he has power over someone's freedom and admiring the way he tied the rope. So he always looking foward when MC causes disaster.

Lucifer like it when someone is obedient yet hard headed. It feels like a challenge to him to keep them.

Luke is terrified of dogs, despite him being called chihuahua

Mammon downloaded the app that can merge his face and MC to see how their children will look like.

Belphegor actually focused in classes and that's why he was so brilliant considering the fact he has never study and always asleep.

Outside class session, Belphegor slept a lot. Even in recess, he preferred to sleep rather than eating.

MC was once bullied by the demons in the class. Mammon then came into MC's class and preached about racism. (followed by Satan and Beel)

MC must got a lot of hates from the fangirls of the brothers in Devildom

Lucifer will be the type of guy who only post announcements regarding RAD in social media.

Beelzebub had his account on private.

Diavolo has disguised himself as a normal demon once when going out of town

There are female demons out there who have crushes on Simeon

Mammon always gets anonymous cute note and presents under his desk. It was from the demons who had a crush on him

Lucifer actually aware of demons who had a crush on him. He usually will become extremely intimate with MC when his fangirls are near, just to amuse himself with their jealousy.

Mammon watched conspiracy theories

Satan tried to solve mysteries in human world like missing plane

Asmodeus once took a photos of him and MC together in his room, which cause a sensation in Devildom. It's safe to say that Lucifer didn't let MC out from the HoL because of paparazzis camping outside, waiting for MC to give comments about that post.

Mammon was the only brother that always commented on Asmodeus's post and Asmo always pinned it.

Levi watched hentai, Mammon watched porn, Satan read smut while Lucifer indulge in explicit audios.

Before MC stayed in HoL, the brothers (except Lucifer, Belphie and Satan) have a tendency to only wear shorts in the house. Eversince MC stayed in HoL, Lucifer made a new rule to always clothed in the house.

Satan never knew about hairless cat, until MC showed him.

Lucifer have a power to fix things yet he rarely use it to teach his brothers to handle their ugly consequences without depending on his magic.

please wait for my upcoming fics! Meanwhile at that, check out my other works!

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etherealbelphie · 6 months

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An Unwanted Interruption (Ft. Lucifer and GN!MC)

Warnings: Slight romantic implications? (Lucifer has a crush on the MC if you squint)

Word count: 0.7k

A/N: I've had a bunch of Christmas/winter themed stories in my drafts for a while, I figured it was about time to polish them up and post them! This will be the first of many :D This is also somehow the second Lucifer-centric fic I've ever written. This concept had me giggling the entire time I wrote it, so I hope you enjoy it!

I think I added all the right warnings, if I should add any, please let me know!

-Ethereal ^J^

Story below, please don't claim as your own!

Lucifer had agreed to take you to the human world during the holiday season.

While Christmas in the Devildom was alright, they hadn’t begun celebrating the holiday until much more recently, when Christmas became less about religion and more about spending time with those you love.

Christmas in the Devildom didn’t have the same history and tradition that the human world did.

Which is why you were so ecstatic, even if you were only going to a mall for a few hours.

“Come on, let’s go!” You said impatiently, bouncing on your heels.

“The human world is cold this time of year, is it not?” Lucifer asked, buttoning up his jacket.

You could’ve sworn he started going even slower just to spite you.

“It’s cold, but it’s not that cold,” you emphasized, gesturing to your outfit. You two were going straight inside, and you didn’t feel like lugging a ton of winter gear around. “You know there’s heating in the mall, right?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes but finished buttoning the rest of his coat quickly. He tugged on his gloves, then turned to you. “Very well, let’s get going then.”

He wrapped an arm around your waist and tugged you a little closer. “So the both of us will be teleported,” he claimed.

He mumbled something you couldn’t be bothered to decipher -though it sounded vaguely Latin- and next thing you knew, the two of you were standing in an empty alleyway.

“Holy crap, we’re here!” You exclaimed, unable to look away from the snow glittering in the sunlight. Even as the cold wind whipped at you, you could still feel the faint traces of the sun’s warmth.

“Of course we’re here,” Lucifer scoffed. “Did you really think I’d fail?”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly, though your mock-irritation was quickly replaced by excitement once more. “Now, come on! I know where we are! The mall is this way!”

You grabbed his hand and began leading the way through the snowy streets. If Lucifer had a problem with that, he didn’t say so.

With the enthusiastic pace you’d set, the two of you had made pretty good time, and were by the front entrance no more than ten minutes later. The first set of automatic doors opened, and the two of you stepped inside.

You sighed in relief as a wave of warm air hit you, then you turned to Lucifer. “So, what did you want to do first?”

“I don’t have a preference,” He answered, tugging off his gloves and tucking them into his pocket. “I figured that I would allow you to choose what we did today, seeing as you’re more familiar with this environment than I am.”

“Oh!” You paused a second, thinking. Lucifer always took your opinions into consideration, of course, but him having none of his own was exceptionally rare. “Well, when I’m here, I usually go to-“

You noticed a woman had approached the two of you, patiently waiting for you to finish your conversation.

“Ah…can we help you?” Lucifer asked.

She smiled, pulling a book out of her bag— Oh no.

“I was wondering if you had a moment to talk about our Lord and Savior?”

You were certain you had an expression of absolute horror on your face and couldn’t form a coherent sentence if you tried.

Thankfully, Lucifer took the reins and answered. “Oh, no thank you.” He smiled at the woman politely.

“At least take this, then?” She held the book in his direction, and he recoiled.

“I’m sorry, madam, but I can’t touch that. I may literally burst into flames.”

You brought your hand up to cover your mouth. You weren’t sure if you were absolutely mortified or about to start crying from laughter.

“What, are you a Satanist?” She asked, scowling.

“Certainly not,” Lucifer said, sounding offended at the mere suggestion. “He wishes.”

That response was enough to push you over the edge, unable to contain your laughter. This prompted strange looks from literally everyone around you, but you didn’t care.

The woman stared at you a long, long moment before she finally turned around and left, which only made you laugh harder.

Lucifer looked at you a moment. Though his lips were pressed together, you could see him cracking a smile too.

“I-I’m sorry!” You exclaimed between fits. “I- I didn’t know what to do!”

He chuckled. “That wasn’t the first time, and I’m quite certain it won’t be the last time someone approaches me about my father. I’ve gotten good at responding. You, on the other hand…” He simply smirked at you, which made you start laughing all over again.

#obey me #obey me fanfiction #obey me lucifer #obey me luci #obey me lucifer x mc #obey me luci x mc #obey me lucifer x main character #obey me luci x main character #obey me luci x reader #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me christmas

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shewrites444 · 1 year

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ghost [xavier plympton x reader]

[ inspired from ahs 1984, and of course written by me. super cheesy smut fic since i wrote this over a year ago and it has been sitting in my drafts, but why not post it for my ahs lovers. enjoy! ]

word count - 2.4k

[summary: the reader is a counselor at the former camp redwood, now camp meadow, and meets a very friendly, yet also flirtatious ghost during her first night.]

[warnings: dirty talk, oral, unprotected sex]

regardless of how much my mom and i argued, i continued to deny her stupid reasons to not work at camp meadow the summer. the second massacre of 1984 was not even in the current century, so i knew not to overreact about any possible harm coming my way. i loved a good thrill anyway, so maybe some stupid kids pretending to be the night stalker or mr. jingles would be the most enjoyable portion of the long week anyway.

after finally convincing my friend [y/f/n] to come with me, i was felt my decision was for the best. the drive was a few hours long and once we arrived, we were able to meet our fellow counselors and the head counselor, who seemed nice enough, and not very strict whatsoever.

"i'm going to try my hardest to make this week enjoyable for not only the kids, but the counselors as well." miss thompson smiled at us, nodding her head with respect towards the young group. "i know this place has a lot of bad memories, but with a new name, new cabins, and much more, we can make newer, better memories. if you guys have any concerns or questions, please let me know. i'm available anytime."

[y/f/n] nods, then raises her hand, which miss thompson acknowledges immediately. "what about showers? we haven't gone over that yet."

miss thompson told us we had to shower before midnight, to make sure we had hot water the next morning for the kids, in case they needed a bath or anything of the sort.

after taking turns one by one, i was last in line for my shower. i decided to wait until it was dark, so i didn't have any concerns about my friends coming to prank me with stupid, useless scares. they were all tired, cuddled up in their bunks and ready to prepare for the next morning, which would be extremely busy with the amount of kids the head counselor said we were expecting.

i grab my towel and a change of clothes, along with my razor, and made my way towards the showers. i set everything down before stripping off my baggy, light washed jeans and plain black crop top, then turn the water on, waiting until it's hot enough to step into.

i close my eyes, humming quietly to myself as i wet my hair, reaching over to grab the shampoo bottle. i squirt it into my hand, then sigh upon realizing it's all out.

"just fucking fantastic." i scoff, setting the bottle down and just deciding to shave instead. i grab the bar of soap and lather my right leg up, grabbing the razor and sliding it against my skin.

while doing so, i feel a cold gust of wind against my heated, wet skin, looking up with confusion as it suddenly stops. i shake my head, ignoring the situation and going back to my legs. after shaving, i set the razor down and glance to the shower next to me, seeing there was no shampoo in there, either. i really preferred to wash my hair tonight, knowing that it would be funky the next day, since we were expected to take the kids in canoes and swimming.

"looking for this?" i hear a low masculine voice, making me jump and squeak in surprise, turning around to see a blonde boy, dressed in a pair of white khakis and a teal sweatshirt, with a pair of white high-top converse. he had one silver cross earring, which hung on his right ear and shook as he stepped closer, holding a small shampoo bottle in his hand.

i blink numerous times, trying to fathom the fact that the boy was really there. he looked like he belonged in a different universe, or era, to say the least. i step closer and grab it from him, squeezing it in my hands to assure what was happening was actually real. i realize that if this is real, i'm bare ass naked in front of this random guy.

i snatch the towel from the sink, holding it over my body as my cheeks begin to heaten, and not just from the hot water. "who the fuck are you? and why the fuck are you in here while i'm showering?!"

he ran his fingers through his blonde highlights, laughing to himself, as if the situation was amusing. "well, i actually live here. i heard you and your buddies talking about the massacres that took place here earlier today. kinda disappointed you don't recognize me."

i wrap the towel around myself, stepping closer to him, and crossing my arms in complete confusion. "i'm sorry, but i don't think anyone just casually lives at camp meadow. this is like, a summer camp. i don't think it's legal to live here unless you own the camp, and the person who owns this place is a woman. so, i ask again, who are you, and why in the hell should i recognize you?"

"i'm xavier!" he yells in frustration, seeming offended i didn't know this infamous name. "xavier plympton. i was one of the few who were killed here in the '84 massacre. you haven't read up on the conspiracy there's ghosts here? you're looking at one from the 80's." he winks, watching as my eyes widen in shock.

"there's no way." i shake my head, looking at him from head to toe, completely flabbergasted by his unrealistic explanation. "ghosts can't just live here on earth forever, right? i thought you guys would at least go to heaven or hell, or something. not that i believe in that shit, but you'd at least go somewhere other than here."

xavier shrugged, taking a step closer to me, reaching his hand to my bare, wet shoulder. he smiled, sighing as he felt my skin. "i wish i felt like this again. being a ghost sucks sometimes. i feel so empty, so inhuman. i haven't felt someone so warm, so human, in years."

i pull back, pushing his hand off of me. "okay, um, xavier plympton. sorry to disappoint, but you probably won't be feeling this human ever again. now if you'll excuse me, i really need to wash my hair. thank you for the shampoo, but i seriously need you to leave."

he sighed, crossing his arms and lightly tapping his foot in annoyance at my resistance. "come on, [y/n]. i'm the whole reason you can even wash your hair. one more touch please, maybe on your face or something? it makes me feel normal again!" he whines, making a pouty face towards me.

"how do you know my name, weirdo?" i ask, looking at him with annoyance and a bit of confusion. "and no, you can't touch my face. if anything, that's the farthest from feeling normal. that's just being a creep."

xavier walked closer to me, "i do my research. i have nothing else to do around here, so why not eavesdrop on the new counselors before they're here forever like the rest of us, hm?"

my eyes widen as i walk back, hitting the shower water with my back, and feeling the towel begin to get soaked. i gulp, trying to scan him for any potential weapon. "well, if you kill me, then you won't be able to like.. touch my shoulder or whatever.. i thought you wanted to feel what it was like to be human, remember?"

he laughed, reaching to tug the side of the towel, biting his lip and looking up to meet our eyes. "i wouldn't hurt you or let anyone else do so, [y/n]. you're not like everyone else around here. you seem different, like you aren't afraid of a fucking stick breaking when you walk at night like those other pussy counselors. i mean, you came out here at almost midnight and showered all alone, so it's like you were practically begging me to touch more then just your shoulder.."

i blush, crossing my arms to make his fingers break from the fabric, breathing in and out rather heavily, as i felt my stomach turn at his words. "what would ever make you think i'd want you to touch me? maybe that's your brain, just because you've only had ghost pussy for like twenty years."

"maybe, instead, it's because you excite me." xavier snaps back with a flick of his pink tongue. he grabs the towel, slowly pulling it back off of me, then tossing it to the wooden floor. he grabs the shampoo, squirting some into his palm before lathering it up, gesturing for me to turn around. he sinks his fingers into my hair, beginning to wash it with soft, relaxing strokes from his fingertips. i close my eyes, practically melting at his touch and feeling my legs quickly drench with pleasure as he begins to kiss down my wet neck and soon to my bare shoulders.

this goes on for a few minutes, when he then helps to wash the shampoo out of my hair, and turns me back towards him. i watch him strip of his clothing, except for his light blue boxers, which showed off his stiff, hard length, poking directly towards my wet pussy.

i chew my lip, looking down at his length, before locking our lust-filled eyes. he moves closer to press his lips against my cheek, then smiles seductively.

"if i'm going to fuck you, i'd like to do so in a place more, comfortable. for the both of us, of course." he explains, taking my hand and pulling me away from the water. i look to him, raising a brow, and watching as he hands me the towel.

i follow him outside, as he walks towards an empty cabin, several down from the one i was staying in. i let him sit me down on the bed, where i pull the towel off of myself and set it on the dresser. i lay on my back, spreading my legs in his direction as he pulls his boxers down. he looks at me with a grin, chuckling as he walks over to shut my legs, making my sit up with complete confusion.

"thought we were going to have sex, xavier. not play games, right?" i chirp, looking at the blonde as he sticks two fingers in his mouth, then pins me back down, sliding them to my clit, answering my own question. so no sex yet, only some foreplay so far, which was absolutely fine by me.

he came off as a man who wanted to skip the foreplay, but the second he pumped his fingers inside of me, i was thankfully my interpretation was wrong. i gasp, letting out a loud moan as he began to finger me, curling his digits inside of me with each thrust, in and out.

xavier leaned down to latch his lips to my nipple, sucking softly for a minute before pulling his head up. he looks down at me, pleased with my moans, while he reads my lustful expression.

"the minute i saw you walk into this camp, i knew you'd been needing a good dicking, [y/n]. the way you looked at those other counselors when they were introduced to you.. you've been wanting someone inside of you for awhile now, and who better then me, hm?" he talked into my ear, his hot breath against my skin as he worked his magic inside of me. "i could fuck you so hard tonight you'd never wanna leave camp, baby. you'd be begging for my cock from when you wake up to when you go to sleep. i can already feel how good your pussy is, so i may be begging you for the same later.."

i glance up at him, then down to his hand, as he rapidly finger fucks my insides. i'm dripping at his touch, my juices sinking between my ass cheeks and his fingers, visibly noticeable as he pulls out of me, moving his index and middle fingers to my throbbing clit.

as he rubs, i moan loudly, my eyes shut while he motions himself in front of me. he kneels on the bed, using his free hand to line up his length with my pussy. he pushes himself in slowly, as a way to warn me of what's to come. he was big, and it was now very obvious as he had already filled a substantial portion of my insides with not even half his cock. i nod with reassurance, allowing him to push himself into me, so deep his balls were pressing against my folds.

xavier begins to thrust, pulling his hand away from my clit and taking a hold of my own hand, lacing his fingers with mine. he smushes our lips together, the kiss entrancing the both of us as we become one through a sinful, yet so beautifully pleasurable act.

"you feel so good, [y/n]... dead or alive, this is the best pussy i've ever had in my life.. i never want to stop fucking you, baby.." xavier compliments me, giving me a wink as he raises himself back up. he keeps our hands together, thrusting himself inside as he lets out small moans, and continues to speak his sexual, dirty words to me.

he looks down at me, watching as my tits bounce with each one of his rapid, fast-paced movements. "how do you like this cock, sweetheart? so thick and long for you, hmm? you make me hurt with lust, babygirl. you make me want to cum deep inside you."

"please, xavier. please cum inside me.." i moan, nodding as i look up at him, my mouth hung open as he rocks my body in the bed. "that's all i want right now, for you to fill me up so good.. i need you so bad.. i need you to fill my pussy.. fuck.."

"and that i fucking shall." xavier pushes inside of me with one last deep thrust, filling my walls with his warm, thick seed. he pulls out, a small portion of white trailing from his head and to my pussy lips.

i sit up, panting as i pull myself off the bed, leaning down onto my weak, shaking knees. i place my lips on the tip, sucking the excess down my throat. he shivers at my touch, moving one hand to cup my cheek and insist i stand back up.

"maybe tomorrow night you can reward me with head, baby. you've got a big day soon." he pecks my lips, handing me the towel off the floor. "so why don't you go clean up, again, and i'll see you soon."

i smirk, nodding as i wrap the towel around my top. "xavier, please join me. maybe i'll wash your hair this time." i wink, watching him pull his boxers up.

he laughed, shaking his head. "i hate to reject the offer, sweetheart, but i need my beauty sleep, too. go get some sleep, because tomorrow night will be far longer than tonight's."

i turn around, my cheeks burning as i open the cabin door and shut it behind me, walking back to the showers. i couldn't believe i had just let a ghost fuck me, and that ghost being the xavier plympton. maybe i'd have to stick around camp meadow for longer than this week after all.

[ a/n - i did want to mention i will be writing much more in a few weeks - finals and college/work in general has been consuming a lot of my time lately, but i am hoping to find some inspiration for new fics soon! ]

#xavier plympton #x yn #x reader #xavier plympton smut #ahs 1984 #ahs smut #ahs fandom #american horror story #ahs apocalypse #xavier plympton imagine #xavier plympton x reader #cody fern

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catearedbeauty · 2 months

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After seeing all the other posts…..fuck it!! I’m looking for Hazbin roleplays (preferably on discord). I’M 24, SO IF YOU ARE NOT 18+, PLEASE DON’T MESSAGE ME!!

I write literate, for the most part, so unless there’s not much going on, I tend to write at least a paragraph, maybe 2-3 depending on what’s needed, and I tend to try to match length when possible.

I have a few plots from a couple of these characters, I’ll have the ones I got plots for marked, but….yeah!! Let’s fucking go, onto who I can write and/or wanna try writing

- Angel (HEAVY main muse, I write him the most, mostly looking for a SFW agere rp, but I do have other plots!!)

- Lucifer (I honestly haven’t written him outside of a fic still in my drafts, I have no plot, fuck it, we ball)

- Alastor (This is uh. The plot I have is weird and involves cannibalism in a kinky, but not sexual, way!! You have been warned.)

- Charlie (Honestly? Never really played her, I just wanna give it a go!! I have no plots.)

- Valentino (Fuck it, I’m done pretending he’s not funny, and I can write him decently well, ssssooo- Alas, no plots-)

- Cherri Bomb (ONCE AGAIN, haven’t written her, but I REALLY wanna give her a go because she’s cool, I don’t see people write her often, so WE BALL, LET’S GO, I have no plots ^^””)

I’m really fucking basic with ships, and ngl, kiiinnndddaaa desperate for Hazbin rp- I’m also up for Helluva Boss rp’s, too, but I’ve only watched through that twice compared to the ten times I’ve seen Hazbin-

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thatbanditqueen · 1 year

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Basic Training Ch 2

This is a new Elvis Fan Fic set during his basic training at Fort Hood WIP I am playing around with for the summer. Comment, reblog , tag and let me know what you think or if you would like to be added to the taglist.

Thanks to my ever alpha @whositmcwhatsit who read the rough draft and made it so much better. Thanks Jader Gator. I love you and I think you know that I go between being so in awe of your writing that it is paralyzing to being inspired to write just to get close to what you create.

There are so many good writers in our fandom, and I am lucky to be friends with a little group of horny elvis witches who put up with me, answer my random questions and help me figure out narrative roadblocks, so thanks, as ever, to my sister wives @be-my-ally @vintageshanny @missmaywemeetagain @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love @powerofelvis for helping me write. You guys are so talented I feel lucky to breathe your air, you teach me everything.

Summary: Elvis surprises Bess at her office to thank her and gets to know some of the other women on post.

Word Count: 4.9 K

Warnings: None. Swear words? Handsy charming naughty Elvis?

I have formulas, tropes, motifs that I always go back to consciously or unconsciously.... whatever... as I was naming this chapter I realized how chapter two is always about the nicknames..... Here we go...

If you need to catch up, read Chapter 1: I Don't Date Soldiers here

Basic Training Chapter 2: Lil Moo Moo & Tupelo

Wednesday, April 2, 1958

1715 Hours (5:15 p.m.)

Fort Hood Front Office

“Oh, give me Burt Lancaster any day over Elvis Presley.”

Mabel’s eyes didn’t leave her work as she said this, not even when she placed her cigarette in the ashtray on her desk, the keys on her typewriter plunking up and down in her glasses’ reflection as she typed. Unflappable and wry, Mabel was a career civil servant with the commemorative lapel pins to match each milestone from her twenty six years and counting career at Fort Hood. Her light green metal desk was set in the center of the large outer room in the base’s front office, right in front of the CO’s door. Bess’s desk was to the right, across from the XO’s secretary Rose, who left everyday right at five o’clock on the dot.

The other two women Bess shared an office with were almost polar opposites. Rose worked punctually from eight to five every day, while Mabel was always the first to arrive between 6:45 and 7, and often the last to leave, determined to stay on post until the CO left.

Bess fell somewhere in-between, arriving most days with her father at 8 a.m. and then pushing him to leave as early as possible. But with her father out of town, Bess was mistress of her own destiny; a mistress who apparently couldn’t bear to leave until the final details for an awards ceremony tomorrow afternoon were hammered out.

Which is why she was perched on the corner of Mabel’s desk at 5:15, or at least it had been before Dori arrived. Waiting for her father, the CO, to return from inspections, Dori had turned the conversation to her favorite topic of late: her quest to meet Elvis Presley. Tonight she was specifically wondering if he would come to the MWR dance that weekend. This had prompted Mabel's unsolicited preference for the tall, athletic physique of Burt Lancaster.

Dori giggled. “How many times did you see From Here to Eternity when it was in theaters, huh Mabel?”

“More than I’d care to admit, Ms. Crenshaw.” Mabel lowered her bifocals as she hit her typewriter keys slowly, looking down every few seconds at some hand written notes. “And every time they play it on TV or show it here.”

“And how many times did you see Jailhouse Rock, huh, Bess?” Dori teased.

Bess blushed. “Only once.”

Mabel paused her typing and picked up her cigarette again. “I have the feeling Bess has turned sour on those Presley pictures. You should have seen her last week, damn near punched a dent in her desk after a reporter ran her off the road.”

“Ah, no, Bess loves Elvis.” Dori checked her lipstick before putting her compact back into her purse. “She’s lying too. I remember seeing Jailhouse Rock with you and the soldier on duty said you’d been to our sweet 'lil ol base theater every night that week.”

Bess fixed Dori with a grimace, mumbling defensively. “That was Loving You, and I only saw it three times. People were talking through it the first two times.” She shifted, rolling her thigh over Mabel’s desk as she balanced herself. “I didn’t care for Jailhouse Rock, though, kinda thought the main character was a jerk.“

“Oh honey, that’s what made it so good.” Dori’s high voice vaulted up the ceiling “Don’t you just find him scrum-diddly-umptious actin’ all tough and mean, but then being hung up on his lil ole manager the whole time?”

Bess straightened the stack of files on her lap.

“No, Dori, I don’t care for quiet, mean, brooding types who can’t just be a man and tell me how they feel, playin' mind games instead. And, as for Elvis, honestly I can take him or leave him. There are twenty thousand men on this base.” Bess straightened her ponytail, balancing her files on her lap as she spoke. “Why, I could find you ten Mississippi tall boys who can play gee- tar and yodel at you before mail call is done…”

Bess’ voice trailed off when she noticed Dori gasp and cover her mouth with her hand, eyes wide with shock as she smacked Bess’ knee. Mabel whistled low, her eyes quickly fixing on her typewriter as Bess shifted around on the big desk.

“What? What is it….” Bess’ jaw fell open and dropped her files to the ground. She felt them slip over her skirt on their way, unable to stop them, it was as if she had forgotten how to use her hands. No, all she could do was cringe with embarrassment at Elvis’ downward smirk as his eyes flitted up to look at her.

“Oh cluck a fuck, I mean fuck a duck - I mean, oh cluck!” Bess heard herself cry out reflexively, then remembering how to move, she scrambled to pick up her papers. She was grateful for Dori’s unflappable poise as the blonde hopped over Bess’ hunched body on the ground and introduced herself to Elvis, adding:

“Please excuse my friend there, she flunked outta finishin’ school.”

Bess watched Elvis kiss Dori’s extended hand with mild amusement as she squealed and smiled and unleashed her excitement onto him, her hand already on his chest.

“I been prayin’ every day to run into you, Elvis - Oh, may I call you Elvis?”

“Yessum, I -”

“Oh good! See, I knew we’d be great friends, I just knew we would! I have been all over this base hopin’ to run into you. Why, we’re all just pleased as punch ta have ya round here, aren’t we?”

She turned to see Bess still on all fours, curly brown hair half loose from her ponytail, while behind her Mabel looked up and grunted softly in salutation before continuing to type.

Mabel’s cranky glare and Bess’ antics on the floor did not create the mood Dori had envisioned for her first meeting with Elvis Presley. She looked down and her broad smile wavered for a moment as she realized the top button of Bess’ shirt was undone, revealing her bra completely. Dori’s painted pink lips popped as she nudged Bess with the tip of her heel and whispered through her teeth.

“Stand up, Bess honey, fo-ar gawd’s sake, ya shirt!”

Bess jumped up, fixing herself as a big red blush grew over her face, made worse as Elvis caught her eye with a wink. Mabel stopped typing for a moment and motioned for Bess to come and look at something while Dori kept right on talking to Elvis with her hand now firmly around his bicep.

“Now, don’t pay no mind to Bessie’s talk about you and your pictures, why, we’re all big Elvis fans round here, the biggest fans ya ever met.”

Elvis cocked his eyebrows up at Bess’ simmering glare from where she now stood behind Mabel’s chair.

“Huh, yeah, that’s sweet of ya, ma’am -”

Dori put her finger to Elvis' lip. “Dori, honey, puhleeze!”

“ - Uh, Dori.” Elvis’ spoke carefully, as if forming every word in the back of his throat before speaking out, his voice was soft and shy. “I don't s’pect everyone to like all my pictures. After all, I didn’t write them, it’s just a job to me.” He winked again at Bess. “S’pose I mind even less if they like some of my other movies. Like ‘em enough to see ‘em every night a tha week.”

Bess felt her cheeks redden even more, but before she could think of a clever reply, Mabel elbowed her and pointed at the XO’s handwriting.

“Can you read that? It looks like repercussion, but it could be reprimand as well.”

Bess picked up the legal pad for closer inspection and turned to the others, motioning for Dori to come take a look. She hadn’t expected Elvis to follow, but he did, making himself right at home and angling his tall body behind the women.

He snuck his hand around Bess’ waist as he looked at the writing Dori held up for him, eyes forward and completely detached from the movements of his fingers rubbing along the waistband of Bess’ skirt until she pulled them off. This made her stumble to the side and gave Elvis an excuse to openly grab her waist and steady her, She frowned, flustered by the way his long fingers navigated the crease right where her waist met her ribs, his thumbs squeezing tightly and then rubbing gently over her as he asked if she was ok.

Pushing Elvis’ hands away, Bess whispered that she was fine, trying to slow her pulse and still the shivers that ran up her spine. Her whole body trembled, aware of his proximity to her, and she refused to meet Dori’s now extremely curious eyes over Elvis’ shoulder. Nodding, he turned back to the others and helped himself to the paper, declaring that it was repercussion as he introduced himself to Mabel, kissing her hand, and asking her about the tiny, porcelain figurines on her desk as she giggled.

“That’s Lady and Lola, my brother brought them back to me from Japan. Are you a dog person, Private?”

Bess made her way back to her desk, taking in the youthful bloom of Mabel’s beaming face and girlish laughter. She had never seen her co-worker this cheerful and open before. Dori’s face was aghast as Elvis ignored her and made himself comfortable on Mabel’s desk, asking her for a cigarette and then turning with a conspiratorial whisper as he asked them not to tell anyone.

Dori began tapping her fingers along her crossed arms harder as she watched Elvis put his hand on Mabel’s shoulder, while the older woman batted his thigh and chuckled at his jokes about dogs. Bess smiled to herself at the way Dori tried to wrest the conversation back by talking about how she used to have the sweetest lil ol’ poodle in the world when she was a girl. But it was an uphill battle, because now Mabel was pulling out her secret tin of homemade shortbread and asking Elvis what he thought. He had to try five pieces before he could adequately decide his verdict, and he moaned as if he had never had shortbread before. His voice was low as he stuttered “Mmm hmmm mmm hmm mmm” in a hum, and Bess dropped her pen when he caught her eye and licked his lips, proclaiming through crumbly mouthfuls that it was “the best doggone cookie he’d had in a long while.”

Bess shook her head at Elvis’ transformation from the shy soldier who had walked into the office to the confident, cocky rascal he was now, only minutes later. Elvis was masterful, she mused, and it was down to the attentive way he looked at each person he spoke with, talking to you as if you were the most important person in the world and responding to everything you said and did with his eyes. No, with his whole body really, she thought. He had a magnetic energy that had drawn her in the moment they met Friday. Now that same magnetic energy was doing its work on Dori and Mabel before her very eyes, as he engaged with them in a way that was humble, considerate and disarming. Some soldiers were stiff and uncomfortable here in the front office where there were often three to five women bustling about. Elvis on the other hand, seemed to be in his element amidst a group of women vying for his attention.

Bess found, to her own chagrin, that this included herself and was disappointed by her own desire to get his attention. She held out until she could no longer help it and interrupted their conversation with a loud, authoritative cough.

“I’m sure you didn’t come to our building to talk about puppy dogs and shortbread, Private, we don’t want to keep you from your tasks or the mess hall.”

Elvis turned to look at her from where he sat on Mabel’s desk and began throwing his olive patrol cap from hand to hand as he gulped.

“Uh, well ma’am, actually, I came up here hoping to get a word with you, Bessie. Uh, I mean Miss Schwartz.”

Now it was Bess’ turn to swallow and once again avoid Dori’s questioning eyes. Mabel’s eyes snapped down to her typing, her face back to being an expressionless stone wall.

“Sure thing, um, walk me to my car? I just, I was just about to leave, I just, uh, need to put these in the Commander’s office.”

As she walked back to her father’s desk, she heard Dori’s voice ring out behind her.

“I didn’t know you were acquaintances with Bessie. That busy bee, she really gets around this base, huh? I reckon she knows more soldiers than the rest of us combined.” Bess smiled to herself at Dori’s insinuation. “ Are you here to ask her to the dance?”

“Uh, no ma’am, Dori, Miss. I, uh, reckon it's better for me to keep a low profile this weekend, let the boys enjoy their night.”

“Well, you know, that attitude might give our boys the wrong impression, like. Make the guys think you fancy yourself too good for our simple, lil ole MWR dance.”

“Uh - well- “ Elvis’ face lit up when Bess rejoined them and they shared a lingering smile that Dori vowed to interrogate Bess about later.

“Oh let him be, Doreen,” Bess murmured, her voice breathy as her heart fluttered once more at the depth of Elvis’ knowing, penetrative gaze. “Uh, he, uh, the boy, man, the man clearly doesn’t want to go. And he already knows that I don’t go on dates with soldiers.”

Mabel had stopped working again and was now chewing the edge of her glasses, leaning forward on her chin as if she was watching a soap opera unfold in front of her desk.

Dori pursed her lips and placed her right hand on her hip energetically. “Oh he does now?” She said playfully, flouncing up the bottom of her blonde bob. ”Well, Private, you’re in luck, because I do date soldiers. I’ll pick you up at 8.”

Elvis looked to Dori, then back at Bess, his confused expression transforming into a smirking wide smile as he registered Bess’ frown. Bess looked down, picking at a chipped piece of her thumb nail until it came off, as if it was the most important thing in the world and needed her attention immediately.

“Huh, well, whoo boy.” Elvis eyed Bess again, then his lips screwed up into a wider grin as he chuckled mischievously. “I don’t hardly know ya, but I can’t say as that’s ever stopped me before.”

Bess’ heart did a series of flip flops as she watched Elvis laugh with Dori. She wasn’t sure what she disliked more, the fact that her friend had just maneuvered herself into a date with Elvis, or that she was jealous. Bess decided it was the later and that she would will herself not to care.

Elvis' eyes flickered over her for a second and Bess suddenly had a sense that he could tell exactly what she was thinking and feeling in that moment, and she returned to picking at her thumb nail. She was vaguely paying attention as she heard Dori tell Elvis that she’d meet him up at his barracks Saturday night, but she thought Elvis smirked wider as he took in the smile that she forced her lips into.

“You’ll be there, won’t you, Bess. Even though you don’t date soldiers?” Dori looked at her, adding another few fluffs to her hair for absolutely no good reason.

“Hmmmm. Well, I usually do, since the CO encourages all the single female employees to go, but I did have some research st—”

“Don’t be silly, of course you’ll come, it’s gonna be so much fun. I can already tell. There’s gonna be a live rhythm and blues band we hired in from Houston. They are just the bee’s knees, and I’m on the MWR committee. My theme for this dance is Spring Fling, cuz it’s spring! The decorations we got are so adorable, floral Chinese lanterns y’all. I cannot wait.” Dori squeezed her hands into fists and did a little dance in place.

Elvis turned back to Mabel. “You comin’ Saturday night, Miss Maybelline?”

Mabel giggled like a school girl instead of the fifty year old woman she was.

“Every one I can make it to, CO’s memo encourages all single women on base to attend.”

Elvis took Mabel’s hand in his, softly trailing over the top as he kissed her knuckles and smiled devilishly as she giggled again.

“Well, be sure ta save a few dances for me, mmkay, honey?”

Mabel nodded with a giggle and a wink.

Elvis’ cocky smiled followed Bess' curt nod out of the office and into the back stairs of the building where her voice echoed down the concrete stairwell.

“You know Private, I really wish you wouldn’t come to my office unannounced.” She paused two steps below him and turned around so he had to stop himself from slamming into her finger as it pointed back at him.

“Hold on a minute there, baby, now, what’s wrong with being friendly?” He grabbed her finger. “Careful where you point that thing, woman. First lesson of basic training is safety. Thought you’d a know by now.” He grasped her hand and softened it into his fist. She seemed to lose her train of thought looking up into his eyes. “What’s got your panties in a twist, Bessie Boo, you ain’t jealous, are you?”

Elvis was decidedly less polite when they were alone, Bess realized. She wasn’t sure she liked it, or the way it made her feel as she pulled her finger away and kept descending down the stairs in front of him, her voice a little shaky.

“Of Dori? No, no, not at all. In fact, that all seems to have worked out the way it should.” She shoved the door at the bottom open and headed toward her car as Elvis’ long legs made easy work of striding next to her.

“Why’s that?”

Bess turned as she got to her car.

“Cuz, well, you seem like a good match.” She smiled, trying to really mean it, trying to keep her voice cool and nonchalant. “Dori, is, well, she seems to have the sort of, um. Well, that is, she’s very glamorous. And popular. And attractive. She’s a lot like the girls you’re always with in the fan magazines. I think you’ll have a lot of fun.”

Elvis stepped closer, fixing his work cap back on his head. “So you read the fan magazines, huh? Thought you could take or leave Elvis Presley.”

Bess didn’t know if her cheeks could take the constant flushing she was experiencing. She leaned into the hood of her car, changing the topic as she spoke to the blue paint.

“Look, why did you come by my office?”

Bess leaned her back into the car, and he reached out for her waist, rubbing his hands along the sides for a moment, before taking the handle next to it and pulling it open, tilting his head to get in.

“I uh, I came by because I wanted to thank you. Think we could just talk for a spell?"

Bess swallowed and nodded. After a few moments searching, she discovered her tongue where she had left it on the roof of her mouth and did her best to eke out intelligible words. They scooted along the white vinyl car bench until Elvis got to the other side and leaned back, stretching out his arms and looking at her.

“I know'd it was you that talked to Sergeant Norwood.”

Bess looked down. “I, ugh, actually. That would be highly inappropriate of me to talk to a senior instructor in your company and ask for any special treatment.” She looked back up at him. “But, um, how’s it going?”

Elvis grinned wide. “He’s, uh, well, he’s instruction’ alright, instructed me to come over to his house here on post after dinner most nights. He, uh, well, I uh, he lets me use his phone to call home and get a few hours of shut eye at their place. Though I preferred the bed at your house, Bessie bug. Cushioning there was better.”

Bess let out a snort as Elvis slid down to put his head in her lap, just as it had been that first night in her guest room. He pulled her right hand in his over her chest, threading his fingers through hers as he looked up into her face with apt admiration.

“Ya are the first real friend I’ve made here.”

“Hmmm. Seemed like you were doing all right making new friends upstairs.”

Elvis smirked, his squeezed his fingers between hers.

“You are jealous a Dori. Jus say tha word and I’ll take you to the dance too, baby. I could take both of you as my dates, ya know, nuff a me ta go ‘round.”

Bess tried to take her fingers back, but it was a half-hearted attempt and his hand was so much bigger than hers. Resigned, she squeezed back and sighed, looking out the window.

“Ha, I’m sure. But, no, I’m not jealous, I’m just giving you a hard time, Presley. You sure seem like a fast operator.” Bess felt an aching warmth blossom in her belly as his thumb rubbed the inside of her palm.

“Honey, I didn’t operate nothing, I’m just an innocent bystander caught in the eye of Hurricane Dori. If anyone is operatin’ fast, it’s your friend back there.”

“Yeah, well, you have to forgive her, she had a lot more going on in Savannah than she does here. We are sorely lacking in ladies’ charities and fancy galas for her to host. So Dori gets all pent up, all that energy and nothing to do with it. Maybe you can help wear her out. " Bess arched her eyebrows suggestively, her voice was light and teasing. "By dancing, I mean, of course.”

“Huh, sure. How ‘bout you? Will you have any pent up energy ya wanna dance off with an ol’ friend?”

“Ha, I’m about as old a friend to you as Dori is.”

“Nah, honey, you’re different, we go way back now. I don’t know anyone who’d risk their job to take a po’ boy like me home an feed me an’ take care a me so good.”

Elvis' eyes welled up and Bess softened, thinking he might cry. She found herself soothing the top of his forehead with her left knuckles.

“Hey, ssshhh, hey. You would have done the same for me, right? If our roles were reversed and I was a new recruit being trained for combat?”

The left side of Elvis’ face lifted into a crooked grin. Bess was transfixed watching the way his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down.

“Course, course I would. You know, I’ve spent the last two years running from women chasing me, I reckon the Army’d be in better shape if they’d put ya girls into combat. Ain’t nothing more terrifying than a hoard of twenty thousand screaming girls coming for ya.”

“Ha, yeah, probably makes basic training seem like a breeze.”

Bess smiled down at Elvis, and made her fist into a fake microphone, affecting a serious, transatlantic accent like the reporters at his press conference last week.

“So, Private Presley, what do you think, is basic training harder or easier than running from women for a living?”

Elvis chuckled. His right hand let go of Bess’ fingers and snaked around her waist. “Well, ain’t nothing like getting clobbered by a swarm of women. I s’pose the main difference between those girls and the Russians is, they don’t mean to hurtcha. They’re just tryin’ to get themselves a piece of ya for a souvenir.”

Bess’ raised one eyebrow, her reporter microphone hand still at attention.

“Oh? Please tell us, the American people want to know, which piece of you are these girls trying to get their hands on?”

Elvis burst out laughing. “Uh, no comment, though I could show you later if you want.”

Bess blushed at the glint in his eyes, and kept talking. “Hmm, fresh. Next question, how devastating was it to get your haircut?”

“Well, now, that didn’t bother me none at all. You know what they say, hair today, gone tomarra."

He paused, grinning at her tepid "Ha. ha. ha."

"But no, I ain't sore. Now, if it weren’t never gonna grow back, yeah, sure, maybe I’d be sore, but I don’t mind following the rules and cutting my hair like all the other boys here. I’m actually starting to like it.”

Bess combed her fingers through his crew cut.

“MMhmmm. I liked it better long, but you know me, I hate soldiers.”

“Picked a weird place to work then, Bessie, ain’t nothing but soldiers here.”

“This is just temporary, till I figure out what’s next for me.”

Elvis looked down towards his knees, speaking softly. “Yeah, jus temporary. That’s what my manager keeps sayin’, but man oh man, I think it’s all over for me. Ain’t no one gonna remember me in two years.”

“That’s not true. Trust me, it just feels that way. How many records you sold?”

Elvis leaned his face into her fingers as they cupped his cheek, he could feel Bess’ thighs tremble slightly underneath her skirt and it made him smile. He looked up at her big brown eyes sheepishly.

“Oh, I don’t know, ‘bout 25 million I s’pose.” His voice was casual and aloof til he cried out at the smack of Bess’ hand hitting his shoulder.

“Ha, I would have guessed 4 or 5 million. 25? I can’t even picture a stack that high. It would go all the way to the moon, probably. You’re thick, you know that? Like we could forget you with all those records out there, spinning 'round in people’s homes, on the radio. No, I think the Russians would have to bomb us to kingdom come before we forget about you, what with 25 million records playing all over. ”

“You’re sweet, Bess, you know that? My uncle used to have a cow named Bess.” He grinned up at her and made a moo sound. “Lil' Bessie Moo Moo, she was sweet, just like you… Moo Moo.” His voice tapered off as Elvis' hand began to trail up the side of Bess’ body. His voice became low and earnest. “She had the sweetest milk.”

Bess shivered at the touch of his fingers before pulling her head toward him. Just as she was an inch away from his lips, she stopped him, and tilted back up, fake microphone fist in her hand again between their faces.

“And, I know our listeners will want to know this important detail, where exactly was this cow, Private, Memphis?” She was the reporter again, and her heart thumped with a beat of regret as she took in the split second of disparagement that played across his face as she lifted her lips away from his. But then it was gone and he was back to playing cool with a grin.

“Nah, back in Tupelo where I was borned and raised.”

“Tupelo, huh? Well, tell us Presley, why does all the good rock and roll music come from that part of the country, places like Mississippi, Tennessee?”

Elvis nestled his head back into Bess’ thighs, scrunching up his lips as he thought.

“Don’t know, I guess we jus have a history of it, it's a place where ya got Black rhythm and blues and country and western, spiritual music. It's in the air we breathe down there, I guess, gets all jumbled up and out comes rock ‘n’ roll.”

“Well, Private, is rock n’ roll the secret weapon we’ve all been waiting for to take down communism and restore civilization to Eastern Europe and Russia? And if so, when are you being sent over enemy lines?”

“Now, maybe you’re on ta something there, pretty sure it’s already destroyed civilization state side.”

“Oh, definitely, the very fabric of our society is crumbling, just ask any parent and they’ll tell you that their teenager hates school and wants to have sex, all because of rock ’n’ roll. No teenager ever felt that way before they heard your music.”

“Huh, you’re a smart ass, you know that?”

“I’ve been a smart ass since you met me. Try to keep up, Tupelo.”

“Huh, yeah, ya a piece of work, lil' Moo Moo. And ya asking for it talkin’ to a man like that.”

Elvis pinched her soft, springy sides as he chuckled. Anyone walking by the blue Ford would have only seen Bess’ silhouette sitting up, head tilted back in a deep, guttural laugh for the first time in almost a year, as Elvis lay back in her lap, tickling and pinching her. They sat in her car for another hour, as Bess fussed over a cluster of razor burn below his ear, and he asked her about her life, getting to know as much about her as she was willing to reveal until she had to push him off her lap to go meet Sargeant Norwood, dismissing his offer to come back to her house and show her that souvenir all the gals were chasing after

************************************************************************

Read Chapter Three Here

@eliseinmemphis @moonchild-daniella @tacozebra051 @ab4eva @kingdomforapony @everythingelvispresley @richardslady121 @dkayfixates @artlover8992 @peskybedtime @freudianslumber @amydarcimarie @toreigh @notstefaniepresley @18lkpeters @yynneessmons @lookingforrainbows @prompted-wordsmith @roadtogracelandx45 @ashtag2887 @literally-just-elvis-fics @waiting4brucewayne2adoptme @returntopresley @girlblogger2002 @rjmartin11

#elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #elvis #elvis fic #elvis presley fic #army elvis #1958 elvis #basic training #banditqueenwrites #wheeeee #because apparently i need another wip.....#xoxoxo #elvis x oc

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popcornforone · 9 months

Text

Monday Moods

A Pre-Outbreak Joel Miller Fan Fic

I was struggling what as to what I could write next. You all know I have so many in draft but I had a few people go oooh a new Joel… So here we are posting about Joel before his world fell apart. It’s been a while since I’ve written him. I do have another Joel in draft but I’m just not feeling it at the moment.

Synopsis: Your night shift is over & Sarah is off to school, what can you & Joel do to make this less of a moody Monday.

Word count:2550

Warnings: DO NOT READ IF TOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18! PURE SMUT piv sex, stimulation, licking, nipple sucking, teasing, swearing. Slight age gap but not huge, mentions of loss of virginity. This is also based on Pedros Joel & it is before the events of the show. Basically it’s full on sex.

Thanks as always for the read peoples, it’s always really appreciated. All feedback is always welcome, it’s helps me grow as a writer. Enjoy.

“I hate Mondays” slam the front door goes. Sarah might have marched her way out of the house onto the school bus, but she left part of the Monday mood behind with her. Your night shift means you’re already cranky ready for 4 nights off, before the next shift rotation starts. It’s only the sight of your partner coming downstairs that makes you smile. Not even the decaf coffee has done that.

“Was Sarah mean to you?” Joel asks sounding genuinely concerned that the two of you may have fallen out & it’s not even 8am. You’re not her mum. He can see the glazed eyes staring back at him. They are trying to care & be alive for him, but he can tell you’ve just had it now, they need a rest. He slurps on his orange Juice straight from the carton as he leans on the kitchen counter. His morning hair all over the place, not even brushed.

“You’d hate Mondays too if you had double math at the age of 15” you say with a frown as he drinks. He clocks your stern look. The free hand apologising as he then starts to hunt for a glass.

“Fair point, it’s why they teach them advanced math, isn’t math just enough?”

“Clearly not” you reply slurping your coffee, trying not to smirk at his remark. You want to be tired but not angry when you got to bed in a little while. “How many shifts have you got today?” You genuinely ask your lover with care. You’re slowly becoming a bit more like you.

“Just the two, first one doesn’t start until

Mid-day,so I’ve got time to spend with the other special girl in my life” he says as he comes across to you, kissing up your arm.

You look around.

“I don’t see a special girl in here” you joke letting him pepper you with kisses. A nip here or there, making you shudder.

“Well that’s because all the curtains are pulled & there’s no mirror to reflect your special face back at you” his juice & breakfast are no longer what he had an appetite for. His smile insinuating he wants much more than that.

“Joel? really? now?”

“Yes now or it won’t be til I’m dirty & sweaty tonight” he says. His neck kisses always make you give in. You’ve always been putty in his hands.

“Maybe I prefer you like that”

“I think you do, my specialty is to be as scruffy & rough as you want me”

“Speaking of which baby, your T-shirt’s inside out” you chuckle.

You fling your arms around Joel & your lips meet his. He might be rough & rougged, but those hands that he always has to clean, make you feel like the dirtiest thing of all. At just His touch, you feel like you were 17 again, the age you were when he first asked you to babysit his 4 year old 11 years ago. He still gives you butterflies each time he kisses you, like when you first saw him. A teenager with a fantasy when he would drive you home. You were not the reason for Sarah mum leaving but once you came back from college each summer, it was hard for him to not ignore you. You just happened to be in the right place at the right time.

The kiss breaks & he then stands up & you wrap your legs around him. “I know where this is heading mr miller” you giggle as you bite his ear lobe.

“If you keep biting my earlobe, we won’t even get to bed baby.”

“Well the lounge curtains are still pulled” you raise an eyebrows & Joel reverses into his arm chair before he lowers himself into it. This arm chair is where he watches the big games on a Sunday from. You cook him dinner & then leave for your night shift safe in the knowledge that American football will be the only thing distracting him those nights. His hands even if he wanted them to, don’t wonder else where, only on you.

The rattle of his belt being undone is a noise that always makes you smile. Joel’s never one for foreplay. A few words here & there but if he’s even slightly in the mood, you can guarantee that sex is on its way. You stand up for a few seconds to remove your work trousers & knickers, you wore your pink lace ones to work as a treat for you, but you see the smile creep across Joel’s face when you fling them at him.

“I brought you those last year for Valentine’s Day”

“That you did baby”

“I do believe…” he says as he glides his trousers & his briefs around his ankles & beacons you to come take your seat in his lap again”… that I made you lick yourself out of them that night”

“I would never do that Joel Miller” you exclaim in reply as you smile. It was a wonderful night of love making, thank you to high school for a week long residential trip, so Sarah couldn’t hear the two of you having sex all night. But your mind is back in the present when you see him cock his two fingers at you calling you over . The other hand is leisurely stroking his length looking at you naked from the waist down, wondering just how wet he still makes you. The tip leaking already, as you lick your own bottom lip. You are about to be more than satisfied.

You put your hands on the back of his arm chair & position yourself ready to lower onto his lap & his throbbing meaty cock. When you were still at college & you dated other boys while you were there, none of them had what Joel did, none of them made you scream in pleasure like him either. They all wanted a long blow job, & never finished you off when they’d cum far too soon. You’d had a taste of a manly moody Miller & now it was yours every day if you wanted it. Right now being filled by him is all that’s on your mind. He slowly nudges at your entrance, his length gliding through your arousal. He tuts & shakes his head mischievously.

“I have no idea why I buy lube baby, you’re always so wet for me darling, so eager, so ready” it’s growled from the back of the throat these words as he lowers you into his cock.

“Fuck… me.. Joel” you whimper, as you adjust to his size & the way it stretches you. Your body wanting to cum straight away & make you explode all over him, but you slowly regain your composure. Your eyes filled with desire when you open them & look at the man you love. His eyes light up from seeing your own enjoyment of this moment. The smile across his face is one of desire. Your hands graze across his jaw line. Each prickle of his hair making you want to get lost in your kisses again.

“So tight baby, made for me this pussy, you saved your Cherry for me all those years ago, & im always very grateful for that” Joel lightly slaps your bum which makes you gasp, before his hands go for your hips. They grip on to you ready for you to start to grind & rive on this cock.

“Only you Joel, only you” you gasp as you start moving now you’re comfortable. Your own hands trialing his T-shirt with the other messing up his morning hair even more. He might have had a hair cut recently but it’s still thick & lots to play with. “Your T-shirt is still inside out baby” you groan as you lean in to take his lips again. Succulent & full of love.

Joel’s not bothered. He’s not saying much at all. A few just like that & oh fucks escape when it’s not heavy breathing & panting from him. He’s watching your body roll onto him. Showing your pelvis work, wondering how he got so lucky to have you & that a girl like you would be bothered by him at all, especially when they were younger. Desire takes over him & his lips leave your mouth & the kisses pepper your own jaw line making you whine more. Your body grinding down on his cock more, enjoying all the pleasure he is providing as you drag him through your walls. But your moans get louder. One simple lick up your neck as he tastes your sweat send your body into convulsions of pleasure. A tongue that often satisfies you by lapping at your cunt for hours is now gliding up you neck.

“J…J…Joel…” it’s a groan, it’s deep & it’s filled with lust as he starts his next neck lick, your bodies nerves driven into override. It has him gasping before he licks down your neck & starts to suck the crook of your neck before he kisses your collar & shoulder. You clamp around him & he hisses, the excitement building up inside him as well.

“Ooh my love” Joel is in charge & is admiring how well you take his firm thrusts. Each one firmer, more fervent, faster & becoming more frenzied. He’s lost in your body, He finally removes your top from the hem upwards over your head, your hair still tied up. His head straight away burys into your cleavage the bra makes, as you unhook in from the back for him. You cry out once your breasts are free as he take your nipple into his mouth sucking it, like he would an ice pop. Your hand goes to your clit, furiously after friction, feeling insane that your man makes you want to do everything with him still after all these years.

“Yes Joel, yes” you moan “don’t stop, don’t stop, never stop” you’re losing control as you grip onto his arm. “Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck”. His mouth might be occupied with your breasts moving onto the next one, but he’s pulsing more, getting even harder, holding you so tight. Your body bouncing, feeling his penis get harder if that was possible as it hits that spot inside you, the one that when he finds it shocks your system. Makes you bounce more. Makes your hands grip around whatever they are on. He briefly comes away from your chest to growl.

“Fuck year baby” it’s deep & longing his words before he latches back into your tit. Like all men Joel enjoys all types of sex, but there is something about sucking your nipples & teasing your breasts that Joel adores. They aren’t the biggest breasts in the world, but they are more than a handful. & if someone held a gun to Joel’s head & asked what was his ultimate turn on he would say his head buried in your chest. You may not have any kids of your own but you know any you & Joel might one day have will not offer the satisfaction or feeling that this man’s lips do as they suck at your erect nipples. It makes you get lost in your own mind as your body crushes him & pushes him back into the arm chair even more.

“God Joel fuck”

“Oooh baby”

“Joel… Joel… fuck yes yes yes”

“Come on daring”

“Ooooh fuck”

All these word flow out of your mouths as the thrusting reaches its climax & you let go as Joel nibbles your nipple, drenching his penis, your walls fluttering around as they clamp around him, the follow up motion he fills you, breaking away from your breast. His own eyes rolling into the back of his head as he cums. Both of your body’s shaking in desire, longing looks no longer being met by each other. The smell of lust in the air, which the only sound is of you both breathing heavily as you come down from cumming so hard & ferociously.

You eventually rest your head on Joel shoulder, before looking up into his big brown eyes while he strokes your naked back, he is still inside you. You sigh looking at him before you tenderly kiss his lips. He strokes your hair with his spare hand.

“Joel?”

“Yes my darling?”

You giggle “your T-shirts now not only very sweaty but inside out still” you smile before you kiss him again.

“Ha” Joel laughs. “Maybe I wanted it that way, so then when I turn it around your sweat that dropped on me will be closer to my skin” he does a mischievous look at you.

“That is disgusting Joel Miller” you scoff & try & look shocked at what he’s said but you can’t hide that this turns you on slightly.

“Well maybe I will go change” he says as he slowly help you off him & makes sure your steady on his feet before he pulls his briefs trouser back up, which we’re still around his ankles. “But I’m not gonna shower, I want to smell of you when I sweat.” Before you can protests he’s put his large thumb over your mouth to silence you “thought you liked me sweaty & dirty?” He says before embracing your lips. His tongue not even asking permission, gliding to meet your own before he then finally removes his tshirt.

Time passes & you have showered & slept while Joel has left for work. You’re in the kitchen backing cookies when Sarah gets home. She looks stressed.

“Is it still a Monday Miller mood?” You ask her as you hear the bag slump down in the hall way.

“Urghhh”comes the cry from Sarah. “Advanced math is hell why do…” she’s interrupted by the smell of you baking cookies. “Are you making…” her head pops around the door frame. She sees your frazzled state. You’re held together by your nap,shower & sex. Your hair is no longer tied up & is frizzy & you are in your baggy shorts & one of Joel’s T-shirts for comfort.

“You know you sounded just like your dad when you started asking about advanced math” you say which makes her laugh.

“& you…” she says as she comes & sits at the counter ready to offer a hand knowing you are making her favourite cookies to get her out of her moody Monday “look like dad, your T-shirts inside out” you hadn’t even noticed the grey top wasn’t on properly.

“Well I guess that means I fit right in” you say as you pass her the bowl to stir.

“That you do”

“That you do” it’s echoed after Sarah said it as Joel is standing in the door way admiring you both getting on. You both turn & smile, before Sarah’s goes to hug her dad. Even at 15 a daughter needs a hug from her dad.

“How is my special girl?” He asks as he stroke Sarah’s hair.”did she have a good Monday?”

“She’s fine” Sarah’s replies & then she smiles at you & winks like her dad does “& im okay too”.

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mightymizora · 2 months

Note

Hello mighty mizora! Big fan here of your work the way you write is so mesmerizing honestly im always in awe!! I have a small question i hope its not annoying i've asked this question to another writer who i liked once but they were so mean to me back so i understand that maybe its not the best question to be asked but i have ADHD and i need alittle direction so i hope maybe you can give me some (its totally okay if you dont want to ! ) Do you have any pointers to someone who has never wrote anything past school essays and to do lists if they want to start writing fanfiction and have it be nice and expressive? I have so many ideas i write them down write 5 sentences thats like a summray maybe a few sentences of some scenes of romance sorta like a small outline it feels so dry... And i dont know what to do past that... Essays had structures and preferred starting intros and all that but i feel lost when i try and start a story, i know myself and i know once i start i will not shut up but starting feels like a wall and i dont know how to climb yk ?

Hey pal!

Firstly thank you so much and also I'm sorry you had a bad experience with another writer. You've asked this so nicely. And apologies for this being delayed I thought I had clicked post but I'd saved the draft again!

So I'm not going to claim to be an expert in this but the way I approach this is:

I start with what I want to say with a piece. What do I want to explore? What do I hope the reader will take away from it? I then jot those down for myself at the top of the document, just like you describe with your summary! If this changes as I discover things that's okay, but it's kind of my road map.

I usually also start in the middle of some action, or with a line of dialogue. Honestly you don't have to do this at all but the joy of fanfiction is you don't have to do loads of exposition! People know who the characters are and you can dive into things! It means you get stuck right in which I personally like.

I also don't write chronologically! I think we can get so stuck on things. I think of writing a story like pruning a garden, so I might write some "holding sentences" per scene and then work on scenes as they come to me. It's a good way to build up the bits as you are inspired. You can see this really clearly in a piece like Blood and Bone which is very sparse, some of the holding sentences in that fic are still in there.

When it comes to dialogue, I use the actioning method used in acting and I work out what people want to do by saying something. I like when characters don't say things outright, but say a hundred words by what they don't say. A character can say I love you, and it's good, but what if they say I don't want you to leave? What is left in the gaps?

When it comes to description I think I have a long way to go honestly but again. What are people seeing, smelling, tasting, seeing touching? What is their primary sense? Does it evoke anything else for them, or are they entirely in the moment? This can vary from character to character.

Another thing to think of is variant rhythm. Once you have a first draft down, go over it again and look at sentence structure. Can you add variation by changing the length of sentences? Can you tell a story in the rhythms you use? I'm a big fan of long run on sentences in romance showing a character losing control, for example.

And the big secret honestly is... you might well find your writing a bit dry! I find mine dry! I look at it squinting, asking whether the sex is sexy or if it's just way too out there or just completely misses the mark. We only really know when other eyes get to see it.

I hope that's helpful!

#on writing #anons are always open for writing chat honestly #so if you want clarity lmk!

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plate2 · 2 months

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So! The entire first chapter of this medieval AU is finished and ready (other than not being edited or beta'd or-) if anyone would want to read it. This is my first time posting any of my writing, so I hope it's good? Anyway, I feel it's important to also mention that it's not a mistake, I meant to use the last name Burgess instead of Sorenson here, and there is also cursing in the fic. (Also, if I need to add any warnings or tags please tell me) So uhhh yeah!

Chapter One: Fool Me Once

Torches sputtered and cracked from the draft, open flames waving hello as he slipped by, his cloak flying open behind him. Ruby and topaz stones carefully clinked and collided with one another as they hung from the golden circlet in his hand. The guards he met along the way flinched from his stare and gave him a mile’s wide berth once they saw the circlet. They allowed him to continue, on through locked doors to the deeper caverns of the castle, his footsteps echoing off of the stones placed haphazardly atop one another centuries ago.

As the stairs spiraled downwards, shadows began to rest on his shoulders, pulling at the light of the torches, causing them to waver— shudder—at the weight. Similarly, his mind began to spiral, tugged in directions he hadn’t known existed before now. His heartbeat reverberated in his skull, and it grounded him in such a way that it felt like the very dirt beneath him wished for nothing more than to swallow him whole. Maybe that would be preferable.

A prison such as this would likely inflict a feeling of depression, of hopelessness and horror. It would feel somber, damp with water leaking through the bricks to form stagnant puddles. And yet…

The yells started even before he reached the bottom of the stairs, before the door swung open, clanging shut behind him as he steeled himself, shadows flickering at the edge of the door. No one should have been able to hear them as he did, not from that distance. That simple fact raised a chill through his body, hair standing on edge as he walked towards the cells.

“I’m innocent!”

The yell shuddered through one of the inmate’s throats, the sound ripping through him as he came through the door. He closed his eyes, breathing heavily as he attempted to block out the noise. Other inmates rattled the bars of the cages, hummed old warning songs he knew well, and some even attempted to grab for his clothing, begging him to save them.

He knew well enough who these people were: heretics, murderers, traitors, felons of the highest degrees. He worked alongside those who put these people in chains, and if any of them knew he stood here, knew of the anomalies plaguing him… Perhaps he too would be shoved into one of these cells, left to rot forever. Of course, that stood under the assumption they let him live in the first place.

At the end of the hall, he quickly opened and slammed the door shut. The yells did not cease, twisting their way under and around the door, but fortunately, his focus trained elsewhere. Only one other cell stood in this room—the lowest, deepest place you could possibly go in the castle.

“Hello, Seth Burgess.”

Rags hung off her wiry frame like old drapes, and her knuckles seemed to protrude from her hands as she held onto her elbows. Scabs and pulsing veins ran along her arms, insect bites imprinted on her skin. Her hair laid long, ratted, and white, her eyes bloodshot as she smiled a little wider than humanly possible, a few of her teeth missing. Warts covered her body, and her hands showed the slime that stuck to her skin, the consequence for using magic from the Void.

Muriel, the Witch of the Forest.

“I haven’t seen you in years, boy. You’ve grown. There’s a wariness to you now, a glint in your eyes. What has happened to you since I’ve seen you last?”

Seth’s last visit to her stood in shadows, a vague mess of colors and swirling memory. He had been young, naive, and he wandered down into the same place he stood now. She twirled tales of forbidden magic, of twisting shadows and the creatures that slept within them. She drew pictures in his mind of demons and fairies, of their wars that raged much before his time. The stars, something he often turned a blind eye to, were now something new and bright in his eyes. He understood the moon, the stars, and the planets out in space, the darkness that held them, comforted them. And despite everything, it drew him in.

Enough time spent down there in one, singular, night, led him to learn magic he never should have known. She taught him something that plucked at strings in his heart, echoing a melody that flowed through the background of his life, through his ears and lungs. It kept his feet moving forward, and if he wanted, he could recite it note for note.

As he grew older, the song became tinged with a sour taste. He learned of the Void and how it infected everything it could grasp with a deep unknowing, a mystery hidden from the light. He learned of how it twisted and changed people, whether it gave them an amphibian-like slime, reptile scales, rare birds wings, or anything and everything within the same selection. It stood as something drilled into his mind during his lessons: amphibians, reptiles, birds, amphibians, reptiles, birds. Over and over again people taught him this.

The Source, as an opposition, became the thing people worshiped. It stood for peace, warmth, and the very known force of creation and growth. Mammal, fish, and invertebrate changes were welcomed, gifts given by the Source. People with such eccentricities were held on pedestals, something akin to saints.

And according to Seth’s grandparents, who caught him with Muriel that same night, all of his trust resided in the Source. The Source, his lifeline, kept him from falling farther into the darkness. As long as he continued to hold onto the Source’s rope—no matter if it felt like it seared through his skin, burned his eyes—he would be acceptable. He would be right. He would be fine.

Instead, Seth now heard voices from rooms over, a field’s length away, or through walls. He heard things people intentionally said behind his back, he heard compliments alongside criticisms. He heard when people outright lied to him, their small inflections clipped in their tones. The song lifted his eardrums to a heightened sense, and yet he continued to look towards the stars with burnt hands.

If only he had been better. If he had been better, lies wouldn’t slip off his tongue like truths when he spoke to his grandparents. He would have no reason to keep this visit a secret—or have this visit at all. If he had been better, a hole would not have carved itself into his mind. The remnants of magic he used before would not still taint his mind and thoughts. He would not feel comfort as shadows enveloped him in this very room, and he would not rest ever so slightly when the song settled in his mind.

If he had not made a mistake years ago to come into this very room, he would be able to say he trusted the Source with his very being. He would not give a second thought about the Void, as he did now, standing in front of her.

Seth had to wonder if this would be nothing more than another mistake. Another item to regret on his not-so-organized list that continued to roll far past his feet if he ever unfurled the parchment—if he ever opened the seal.

“You are being especially quiet this time around, aren’t you?” Muriel said, leaning forward and backward against her chains. Held so uncomfortably in the cold iron if only so she would never cast magic again. Her shoulders sagged, bags under her eyes as she stared at him. Her sudden cleansing of magic ability certainly took its toll on her.

“I guess you aren’t quite six anymore, are you?” Muriel laughed quietly to herself. “No more questions I can answer for you? No more questions about the stars?” Seth kept his composure, other than his hand tightening on itself, fingernails digging into his palm. “You do have more questions about the stars? Please, do tell, what more do you wish to know about the unknown levels of the universe?”

“Stop,” Seth whispered, his voice strangely weak. Something stuck in the back of his throat, something echoing a sob. He did want to know. He did want to hear. So badly.

Muriel’s bloodshot eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you’ve become one of them. They do not listen to my answers, nor do they ever ask me questions anymore. Take me back to the old times.”

The old times. Seth almost wants to agree with her.

A fact which, he supposed, indicated many things he didn’t wish to think about.

“How do I get rid of it?” Seth asked, his voice barely audible. “How do I make it leave?” He wished he could make it so he didn’t sound on the verge of tears, but you can only hear so much before you break—before you shatter utterly.

Muriel jangled her chains as she attempted to lean closer. Her eyebrows raised unnaturally high, “Leave what? Get rid of what? My dear boy, you must be more specific than-”

“You know what I’m talking about!” Seth tried to snap at her, he did, but it only came out in such a desperate plea. He began to pace in front of her cell, back and forth, wearing down the stone under his feet. The echoes of the steps resounded like drums in his heart. Loud, disorienting, just like the screams and pleas from the other room-

“Shut up!” Seth yelled. The shadows at the edges of the room inched forward, grabbing his ankles, pulling him, whispering things of hope- “I can- I hear- There’s too much and I don’t know what to do with it.” Seth ran his hands through his hair, gently pulling—as if that would make the voices stop. His voice, no better than a sob, said, “Tell them to stop.” A pause. “Please.”

Muriel’s eyes softened ever so slightly, and Seth had no way of knowing if she pitied or worried about him. “The power of the Void.”

The voices backed away at that, the shadows slipping off of his legs, laying at his feet like broken limbs, unsure of their function afterward. His heart softened as she said it, and the song picked up in his mind, swirling around them as he breathed a little easier. It called out for beginnings and ends, a form of destruction that led to creation: ash that helped flowers bloom. The cycle and the Void were the same.

The shadows at his feet squirmed, and he jumped back, heartbeat in his throat as he tried to clear it. Shadows were not something he could fight—nor were memories. And yet, both of them haunted his every step. “What did you do to me?” Seth asked as his voice wobbled and broke. “Why am I…?”

Seth said nothing more, simply staring at her, waiting. He couldn’t clear the tears from his eyes, but Muriel hadn’t mentioned them yet either. Perhaps she wouldn’t call out his weaknesses. Perhaps she owed him that much.

Muriel hummed, deep, resonating in the small cell. “I’m afraid you’ll have to give me more information than that.”

The floor seemed to fall out from underneath him. “You know!” He paced back to the door, the way he could leave here without any lasting consequences. The tears laid against his eyes, not daring to leave in the presence of someone else. “I shouldn’t have even tried, I should have known you’d never help!” Seth spun on his heel, pacing back to the cage. “You’re no better than them! Do you know that?”

“And why is that?” As quiet and calm as ever.

Seth went to run his hand through his hair once more, but instead, a laugh left through his lungs, shaking his entire being. “You all like to think you’re so different, but you all only look out for yourselves! You know exactly what I’m talking about—you did this to me!”

“I did nothing of the sort.”

Grabbing a hold of one of the bars, Seth watched as she moved back from him. The cold bite of the metal sank into him as he sobbed, falling to the ground, onto the heels of his feet. He felt insane, utterly. Why did he insist on asking her for help? Why couldn’t he ask his family, or even his friends? Why couldn’t he just be normal?

The Source kept the world pure. The Void corrupted.

…And yet.

Muriel tsked at his pathetic form, shaking her head. “Something indeed changed. Something’s taken its toll on you, raked its claws through your mind. You’re not the same boy who came down here all those years ago, are you?” When she said it this time, she spoke solemnly; she spoke a fact of life. Seth couldn't help but agree with her.

“The Void did this to me,” he eventually said. Even before he had finished, Muriel already began to shake her head, sighing. “What?”

“The Void did nothing of the sort. It gave this power to you because of your belief in it. If there are any… mental ramifications, you created those yourself.”

His words were no more than an emphasized sigh. “What?”

“Any constraints you have are because of your own making, or the making of someone who you let get into your mind. Who has gotten under your skin?” Muriel stared at him for a very long moment, tilting her head until it hung almost parallel with the ground. Seth hadn’t made the conscious decision to flinch back until she laughed, much like the caw of a crow. “Your family.”

“No.”

“Yes. They are sole believers in the Source—the light of creation in the world. Your family are the ones who believe the Void will corrupt your soul—if it hasn’t already.”

“It hasn’t-”

“You believe in it, don’t you? You’ve heard the song.”

Seth had not once mentioned the song in front of her.

Muriel continued. “The song floats through your head in the same way the power flows through your veins. With every step you take, you think about the vast darkness that hangs above our heads—the thing the sun obstructs. You can hear too much because the Void wished for you to. It loved you—loves you—and this is what you do in return? You ask me to get rid of it.” She scoffed.

Seth slowly stood, holding his head against the bars. His voice broke as he spoke. “They’ll- If I don’t get rid of this, they’ll kill me, and I won’t be able to do a single thing. If I fight back, they’ll count me as a traitor, and if I don’t, I’ll be killed. The family name will be tarnished, and I’ll be banished or- or executed on sight. They would have to make an example out of me, and they’ll-”

Muriel raised her eyebrow.

“My own family would execute me!” Almost hysterical, the words prying themselves against his will out of his mouth. They laid on the floor for everyone and no one to see, and he wanted nothing more than to light them on fire, watching the smoke rise into space.

“But do you want to rid yourself of the Void?”

No, he didn’t. “Do you not understand? They’ll kill me!”

Chains shuddered, clattered, and hung tense as Muriel rushed forward, reaching out towards the bars as Seth rammed back into the wall of the cell room, his breathing erratic. He felt his vision shudder as he watched one of her shaking, knobbly fingers barely reach out, her nails tinted green and yellow, barely able to reach and brush against the bar. He could hear the most faint sound of nails on a chalkboard. Her wrists were white with the strain from the handcuffs.

Muriel started slowly, slower than he had ever heard her speak. “You have not answered the question. It is an obvious fact they will kill you if they figure out why you’re down here now. It is an obvious fact that the Source and your family’s beliefs have tainted your perception of the power you have been given. I care little about either of these things. Do you want to rid yourself of the Void?”

Seth opened his mouth to say yes, to say anything to refuse what she implied. Of course he wished to get rid of this so-called gift the Void had given him. He hated the Void and what it had done to him. He hated its corruption, temptation, confusion…

“I… love the Source.”

That’s not what she asked.

You know what she asked.

Seth shook his head, holding his hand against his forehead as a headache spiked. Slowly, but quick all the same, the explanation clicked into place in his mind. “You’re trying to trick me.” He let his hand fall back down to his side as he laughed with all the strength remaining in his body. “You’re trying to trick me again, just like all of those years ago—when you did this to me.”

“I did nothing of the sort-”

Seth didn’t listen as he let his feet guide him back to the bars, back to where she tried to intimidate him, where she stood, chains taut. “You’re always trying to trick me, just like them, just like everyone, I…” With some last bit of resolve crumbling, he wrapped his hand around one of the bars, almost letting himself fall against them. He spoke with something akin to a sob—with something not-so-distantly related to anger. “You’re always trying to trick me, but you can’t fool me twice. Please, not twice.”

The chains jangled back to their original place as Muriel backed away, her breathing careful and jagged. Seth didn’t trust her, quite the opposite, but she couldn’t—wouldn’t—hurt him as he stood here. Muriel, well known as a questionable, terrible, utterly irredeemable person by the general public, would never hurt him.

Seth didn’t know why he was so sure.

Muriel, he suspected, did not either.

A long, worn-down sigh emanated from the cell, the sound and curdling smell echoing through the small room. Seth opened his eyes as the old, possibly immortal woman stood with her creaking bones. “Of all people…” She laughed, shaking her head as she fell back to the ground. “Of all people, you chose to come to me with this.”

“Fool me once,” Seth’s hoarse voice choked out.

The cell’s silence held as they stayed on opposite sides of the bars, a tense, angry, and understanding emotion in the air as Seth felt emotion bubble up in his chest and throat.

‘The Void did this to me,’ said with resentment, anger.

‘The Void did this to me,’ said with curiosity, wonder.

The sky hadn’t looked the same since that fateful night. Seth supposed it never would again.

“Am I already tainted?”

The words slipped from his mouth, but he didn’t regret it. He knew what her answer would be, something different than if he were to ask his family—his friends.

“Am I…” he continued, “Am I past the point of no return?”

With gentle, genuine concern—something she hadn’t used often so far in their conversation—Muriel asked, “What do you mean?”

“The Void changes people, taints them with its power. I could be a different person now than I’m supposed to be because of its influence, but I wouldn’t know. What if it’s already taking over my mind? What if the reason I’m…” Seth shook his head, rethinking his words. “What if I’m changing, and I can’t even realize it because it’s gotten so deep into my mind that it makes me think it’s okay?”

Seth’s family always reminded him he had never been all too eloquent with his words.

“You’re afraid you’ve been compromised.”

He needn’t say a word in order for her to know his answer.

“I’m not repulsed by the thought of the Void or by the song. I should be. Everything in history, in my life, all around me tells me so.” Seth looked up from the floor, into her eyes deep with pity. “I should be, but I’m not.”

Muriel sat in her silence for a long moment. “The Void does not change people.”

Seth laughed bitterly. “It does. Everything has always pointed to the fact that it does. Your skin would be free of slime if the Void didn’t change people. I wouldn’t be hearing things from entire rooms away if the Void didn’t change people.”

“Those are the physical changes we know and understand—which I should add, are brought to us by our own use. But, ignoring that, the Void does not change the mentality of its followers. Even if it wished to, it couldn’t.”

Without thinking, Seth said, “But then why are you…”

Muriel smiled and hummed. “I am not like this because of my use of magic. The way I look, the way I am weak without it, the way I think, all of that is of my own doing. I am the only one who can change myself.”

“It could have made you think that. What if you’re different and you don’t even realize?”

“Everyone is different from their younger counterparts. Life revolves much around change, and if you think that is always an indicator of the Void sinking into your mind, then maybe you are more naive than I thought.”

“Was I-” Seth said, before Muriel interrupted.

“You, as a child, were not as different as you are now. Though, you’re more closed off now. The curiosity in your eyes has been toned down in order to best fit your family, your public. You’ve become palatable for the people around you.” She paused. “You remind me much of my younger self before I realized I did not need to be easy for others to process.”

“Yeah, and you ended up in a jail cell.” Regret in his words pooled in his stomach as he took a step away. “I don’t… I don’t want to end up like you.”

The silence stretched for longer than Seth had let it so far. Muriel, deep in thought, suddenly nodded with only a small sigh. “Then you won’t.” She held up five bony fingers. “You have options: run, learn, or barter.” She touched one finger with every option she gave him. Seth couldn’t help but notice she skipped two fingers.

“What’s the last-”

“You can leave the Void,” Muriel interrupted. “Forget about it, never think about it, let alone ever look towards the night sky again. Believe only in the power of the Source. If you do that, you have the possibility of returning to normal. The song will stop lingering.

“If you don’t wish to alleviate the comfort of the night sky, then I would suggest training yourself in the power you’ve come to find yourself with.” Seth began to protest, but she continued, raising her voice above his. “It would bring a sense of control into your life, and you would be able to hear only what you wished.”

Before she continued, Seth wedged his way into the conversation. “That cannot be the best possible solution. What if I start to show physical symptoms? I can’t hide things like that. I can lie and pretend all I want, but that’s something permanent. I can’t fix permanent.”

“Demons and witches like me could possibly help you, then. If you would wish to barter, they are the ones to speak to. Though, their deals have loopholes and fine print like you’ve never seen in your life, and, as a royal, you’ve had to deal with politicians.” Muriel’s laugh echoed in the jail cell. “But, they have power, and if you wish to change something like this so drastically, you would need such power to do so.”

“I can’t do that either.”

“I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t recommend it; I used to know those people. They’re all batshit crazy—and that’s coming from me.”

Seth sighed, rubbing in-between his eyes. “Okay, no demons and no witches then. No running from the Void and no trying to bargain with it. What else is there?” He looked to the two bony fingers she still had held up. “What other options do I have?”

“Well, you can run from the Void mentally, as I’ve already mentioned, or you can run from this place, this city, physically. There would be no one to judge you, no one to believe you’re conspiring with the forces that you are.”

“I’m not conspiring-”

“Of course not, of course not.” Muriel grinned.

Seth groaned, walking back over to the door and leaning against it. “I can’t run. My family, my city, my duty is here, and I can’t just leave that. I have friends here. I can’t leave them alone and just- just fuck off into the wild and hope I get my life figured out.” Seth paused, beginning to gesture wildly with his hands as he began to slowly unravel. “It’s- It’s like I'm on the end of a rope, right? And the rope is fraying on one side, burning on the other. I’m just left in the center, doomed to fall because of, what, some stupid mistake I made when I was six?”

Muriel, for what felt like once in her life, said nothing to him. She stayed quiet, watching him as she settled back into her seat. To her benefit, she did look guilty in a way Seth could never understand. She certainly didn’t feel guilty about teaching him. Yet, she felt pity for him. What did that mean? Did it mean to impose a better feeling onto him? It didn’t. The growing pit of uneasiness, anger, and utter understanding of his doomed position wanted to consume him. A little bit of pity wouldn’t change that fact.

For years, Seth had been able to ignore the song, ignore the empty space he felt within him during his every waking moment. He paid it no mind, and it did not bother him. But, for every slip-up, for every thought that roamed a little too far, a little too deep, the song became louder. The thoughts came closer to the surface, and Seth began to lose control of them.

Because what if? What if he did train his powers? What if he ran away? What if he didn’t have the responsibility of a castle on his shoulders? What if he filled the gap in his heart, what if he went against the whole of society, what if he abandoned his familiar beliefs, what if he rejected everything he came to know as true? The thoughts always started out blazing, like thousands of stars in front of his eyes, blinking in tune with the beat of his heart.

But then, reality came in, and it turned each little flame into smoke. It put out the fire, leaving Seth with the fear and realization that he was trapped without an exit. He continued to turn, hoping for a better choice, a sudden awareness of his situation. There had to be something other than rejecting everything and everyone he’s ever known, right? But, he would always look, and he would see nothing. He would see twisting shadows, and they would creep up his leg, across his body, and around his neck. His own curiosities turned against him, silencing him, and leaving him to watch. He could do nothing else.

Useless.

“What other options are there?”

Muriel’s silence said much more than words could.

“There has to be something else. You’re still holding one finger up, so there is something else. You have to tell me,” Seth pleaded.

“Well, if I know my traditions, there is a party tonight. The Gala of Summer, if I remember correctly. You are being trained to, later in the future, become Captain of the Guard, yes? You would know this.”

Seth nodded. While every solstice and equinox became a day of rest for every citizen in Fablehaven, the two days before were not.

Children learned of Festival Nights when they were young, begging for another story from their guardians. “Monsters lurk in the woods,” parents would say to their children. “And on Festival Nights, these monsters come out and try to attack our very way of living.”

No one knew why, no one cared to ask. Some theorized Festival Nights stood as a tradition for them as well, though they lost every year due to the preparation of the Royal Guard and their Captains. Monsters ravaged the walls of cities, and if they dare reach the inside, established groups for every town and city known as Festival Knights would fight them until dawn came. So, every day before the Festival Night, people would prepare until three in the afternoon, and instead of lying in their stress and terror that night, the castle would throw a party for royals, nobles, and respected citizens alike—the Galas of the Seasons.

Tonight, they were throwing the Gala of Summer, and all morning, Seth had been helping either Captain Burgess with their preparations. Queens without magic always took the position of Grand Captain of the Royal Knights, but Ruth, now getting older in age, began teaching Warren everything she knew. Until Seth turned twenty—or became King, whichever happened first—Warren would then teach him and take his place if Ruth resigned. The knowledge and experience trickled through the generations, leaving Seth staring at a burden he would eventually need to carry upon his back.

Grand Captain Ruth Burgess, Captain Warren Burgess, and Associate Captain Seth Burgess, the names continued on alongside the Summer Gala, the Festival Night, the Summer Solstice. Those words had branded themselves onto his mind in the past month.

“Of course I know what it is. It’s my job to understand what that is.” Seth scoffed. “But what does that have to do with my current… predicament?”

“Well, this option has a very low possibility of working, but every solstice and equinox, the Path of Stars opens. The Path of Stars is a dimensional line that connects to the Void itself. The connection point lies on the highest hill of Glasshed Cemetery, the biggest cemetery in this city. Arrive at the entrance to the cemetery at eleven tonight, and then wait there—do not look, touch, speak to, or anger the spirits there. Do not bring a lantern or any other source of light. Wait until a quarter ‘til midnight in this spot, and when the clock reaches the appropriate time, begin walking the path up the cemetery. You will need to be at the top by midnight, no later. The Void is understanding, much so then people lead others to believe, and while it may be crestfallen, it will understand your reluctance and rid you of its power. That is, if your motivations and intentions are clear. This is your only clear, direct option, and it may not even work in a way that does anything to you, good or bad. Do you understand?”

Seth did not move, barely even took a breath as his heart fumbled in his chest. Slowly, eventually, he nodded. Muriel said nothing more, nor did she look like she wanted to say anything more. So, Seth turned, putting his hand on the door. But—before he opened it, before he left her down here for perhaps the rest of her life to rot—he paused. It took him multiple tries to get the words to leave his mouth, let alone for them to be coherent and clear. “…How can I trust you?”

Muriel tilted her head up. “Do you?”

Seth flinched back ever so slightly before pushing the door open, letting it thud closed behind him. Despite everything, he found himself memorizing the list of directions.

“Fool me twice,” he muttered.

((If you've reached the end I'm thanking you so much for giving it a chance,, please reblog or comment or anything if you liked it, I'm hoping to continue it, but it may take a while (this is draft #3 for this chapter alone) and ask any questions about this AU in my asks if you'd want!! I'd love to answer them :D))

#fablehaven #dragonwatch #fhdw #seth sorenson #muriel taggert #fhdw LMDM AU #no kendra this time sorry but i have plans for her

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hecatesbroom · 1 month

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How I organise my (fic) writing in Notion

@this-geek wondered how I organised my works in Notion, and considering I'm nothing if not always happy to ramble about anything concerning lists and sorting my various things, here we are ;) thanks for giving me an excuse to talk about this haha

Under the cut because I have unfortunately rambled quite a bit (sorry!)

Okay so first off: I really only use Notion for my fic writing (I prefer to work on original projects in physical notebooks or Word, for reasons unknown to even me) and I only keep my first drafts in here. I move on to Google Docs for second drafts (again, who knows why I do this? I sure don't!) Anyway, onto the organisation:

This is what my main page looks like! I have some fancy sidebars I never really use, the to do list is horribly outdated, and I haven't updated that quote (from one of my favourite book series: The Locked Tomb) in ages, but I still think it looks nice!

The thing this is mainly about, though, is the part in the middle that says "all fics". This is what Notion calls a database. It's basically one gigantic collection of pages (in my case: fics) that you can add tags to and display in various different ways. I prefer gallery view because it allows me to add a picture to the overview if I want to. I used to do this for my Locked Tomb fics and it looked pretty fun:

The thing is that it's also a lot of work to find pictures to match your fics (and nowadays I'm more focused on writing than all the thing surrounding it) so my Golden Girls overview looks more like this! I still like the gallery view because it gives you a little preview of every wip :)

As you can see, there's lots of different tags under the titles. The stuff you see in this view is a quick overview (mostly to help with sorting, so all my posted wips line up, and the rest shows up according to which state of unfinishedness they're currently in)

When you click any fic in this view, you'll be taken to the actual fic, and its complete overview of tags & info! I like to keep track of a lot of things (when I remember to, anyway). Here's a little overview for the things I tracked for the finish line :)

Created: shows me the date I started the document (and therefore the fic). Very useful! I love this feature a lot

Fandom: is mainly there for organisation purposes! I set my gallery view to toggle per fandom, so it's all sorted into neat little sections thanks to this tag

Characters: pretty self explanatory

Type: I've got several categories here: "one-shot", "multi-chapter", "drabble", "ficlet", and (reserved for one AU in particular) "i honestly don't know anymore"

Status: again, there's quite a few options for this one: "plotting", "writing draft 1", "1st draft", "2nd draft", "finished", "posted", "hiatus" and "abandoned" (which I rarely use)

Quick summary: is where I play around with my ao3 summary whenever I'm bored and don't really feel like writing

Draft 1 wc: I usually just put the final word count for the first draft there, unless I remember to track individual writing sessions (in which case I add those word counts as well, like in the example above, because I love looking back on the process!)

Draft 2 wc: I tend to completely retype a fic into my google docs for the second draft. Once I've done that I put the end result into my Notion doc

Finished wc: after I've reread and edited my 2nd draft, and possibly managed to have it all get a little out of hand (like you can see in that doubled word count for the finish line, lol) I put the finished word count here!

WC goal: is just a fun way to see what my initial idea was for the fic (I try to set a goal when I've got a general idea of what I want the work to look like, and always end up exceeding it)

The rest of it is just my writing, basically! Scroll down from there and you get the body for the fic :)

I hope this was somewhat helpful! I'm not a pro at Notion by any means, but if you have any questions or need some help, feel free to ask! I'm happy to try to help out!

#notion #alys.txt #my writing #how does one tag this lmao #notion tour #is that a thing??#i think that's a thing

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voxofthevoid · 2 months

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hey i was wondering why you post one chapter a month for fics you’ve completed writing? just wondering about your posting schedule! i’ve been trying to decide for my own fic if once a week or every 2 weeks is better

There are a bunch of factors that come together to make it the pace I'm most comfortable with:

The fully written fics are the first drafts, not the edited versions; that leaves me some 500k of unedited fic, at an estimate, at present. Granted, my final drafts are very close to my first drafts. All I do is some typo hunting (albeit semi-successfully because they're persistent fucks) and overall polishing. But it still takes time, and the polishing in particular is important to me.

I need a significant amount of time—weeks, minimum, but months ideally—between writing and editing to check the stories with fresh eyes, and I only do it one chapter at a time. I'll read the stories in between, but that's just for my own enjoyment. After I post something, I kind of stop being able to enjoy those parts. The editing/polishing process kills the pleasure of it, I guess.

Juggling 4-5 stories a month keeps me from getting bored, especially when I have so many written and waiting.

I like the act of serially publishing in terms of reader engagement, and doing it after the fic is complete lets me enjoy people's reactions and theories without worrying whether I'll be able to finish it. I've abandoned stories plenty and am cool with that, but I don't like having to do it. This is the best of both worlds.

I prefer having a flexible schedule to not having one at all, which is why there are monthly updates (sometimes with delays) instead of whimsical chaos; I've done that before too, in addition to trying out weekly or biweekly schedules. I've also posted fics/chapters as I finished them. Of them all, the current system is my preference.

I'd recommend experimenting with your schedule, seeing what you can sustain and enjoy, and not rigidly committing to anything. YMMV, of course, because brain wiring varies for us all, but in general, it's important to prevent a schedule from feeling like an obligation. For all that I plan and organize like a demon, I ultimately only do what I find fun and am not shy about changing plans as needed, especially when there are IRL factors to prioritize.

Good luck!

#i love my anons #anon

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jessamine-rose · 2 years

Text

◈ Housecat — Author’s Note ◈

ଘ(˶╹̆ ▿╹̆˵)੭່ﾟ Read Housecat here!!

(づ๑•ᴗ•๑)づ Read Alea Iacta Est here!!

Sndksnsajaja thank you so much to everyone who read my work!! Your feedback means the world to me and I hope you all suffered from enjoyed my yandere version of the Regrator

This post is just me sharing my Yandere! Pantalone headcanons, my characterization of his darling, the creative details in both fics, and bonus content from the rough drafts. I hope you all don’t mind this behind-the-scenes look into my work :>

��Your entire life has been a gilded cage. The gods refuse to grant your greatest wish, and so you have resigned yourself to the will of destiny. But what happens when the red string of fate is severed and replaced with the silver chains of the Regrator?” (AO3 Summary)

⬩Introduction⬩

♡ First of all, I must give credit to @bye-bye-sunbird and @ddarker-dreams for inspiring me with these posts from their blogs!! I rlly liked the idea of Pantalone pursuing a darling who grew up with everything he wanted but couldn’t have. By claiming her, he achieves what was previously unattainable to him and gains control over the divine ψ(｀∇´)ψ

♡ I was originally going to write a single fic from the darling’s perspective, but the word count for i. scarlet quartz convinced me to split the story into two fics. Which, in turn, enabled me to incorporate Pantalone’s POV and more facets of his character!! While Housecat focuses on his charming manipulative side, Alea Iacta Est reveals the full extent of his ambition and cruelty :>

♡ Before I continue rambling, I want to say a big thank you again to @diodellet for another peer review!! Aside from providing feedback, she motivated me with her brainrot <3

⬩Pantalone⬩

♡ My version of Pantalone is a possessive and manipulative yandere. He likes to refer to his darling by “my [nickname]” and dress her up in his choice of clothing and jewelry. He is extremely cruel and ambitious in pursuit of his desires, so he will stop at nothing to own his Kitty darling completely.

♡ Wealth and authority aside, he mainly utilizes his intelligence, social skills, and friendly facade to manipulate how others perceive him. In taking note of his target’s wants and weaknesses, he presents himself as someone who can fulfill those wishes.

♡ This is the reason why Pantalone gives Kitty quality time and words of affirmation more often than material gifts. He knows that she wants something which wealth and prestige cannot buy, so he adjusts his love languages accordingly. He also consistently includes her in conversations, stands up for her, and makes time for her unlike Kitty’s other relationships.

♡ Given his character design and backstory, I think Pantalone indulges in his newfound wealth but remains mentally affected by poverty. The easiest way to set him off is to express ingratitude towards his luxurious gifts as shown in ii. fool’s gold. I wanted to depict his wealth as “different” from that of high society, in the sense that his extravagance is only limited to his preferences. He doesn’t follow trends or feel the need to prove himself to aristocracy, because he is already confident and superior in terms of authoritative power.

♡ Askdnkdendkw I hope you all liked his soft moments in vi. noctilucous jade and vi. diabolic waltz. I hc that he dislikes being seen without his material riches or “perfect” appearance, so when he is forced to be genuine and vulnerable around his darling?? It was a nice break from his deception and cruelty (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)

⬩Kitty Darling⬩

♡ Once again, in order to feed my love for docile darlings and twisted happy endings, I put myself through the pain of giving Darling her own detailed personality and backstory. To start, I made her a cat-hybrid for the housecat/ stray cat theme and because it was cute to write about her feline features. That is all ^•ﻌ•^

♡ Kitty grew up with the privileges of high society, but it is that same upbringing which makes her lonely, insecure, codependent, and resigned to her fate. I chose fashion and dance as her aristocratic interests, since they align with her desire for attention and participation. Given her internal conflict, it is inevitable that she falls for Pantalone before his proposal.

♡ My own name and appearance for Kitty <3

⬩Other Characters⬩

♡ 赖 Lài family – Hahaha so here is the source of Darling’s issues!! Because of work and favoritism, she grew up ignored and babied by her parents. They did the bare minimum in raising her and only recognized her potential as a link to other important families. As a result, her sister also looks down on Kitty and is bitter about her lack of productivity. Their surname ironically means “depend on; trust in; rely on."

♡ Chairman 金 Jin – I wrote him to be someone whom Pantalone would view as a worthy challenge given their opposite upbringings. Symbolism-wise, his surname means “gold” to contrast with Pantalone’s silver accessories. His Dendro Vision foreshadows how his downfall is caused by his association to Kitty (Pyro Vision).

♡ Kitty’s brother and friends – These characters do care about her, but they can’t prioritize Kitty over their own responsibilities. This enables Pantalone to take full advantage over her loneliness and self-esteem, because he is the only person who actively seeks her company and sets aside his work for her.

⬩Literary Motifs⬩

♡ Housecat/ stray cat – At this point, the parallels don’t need to be explained. Kitty is the housecat, a pampered child who doesn’t know any practical skills beyond what is expected of her in high society. On the other hand, Pantalone is the stray cat whose destitute past made him cunning and self-sufficient.

♡ Red string of fate – Given his view of the gods, Pantalone probably scoffs at beliefs pertaining to destined/ forbidden love. Even if his darling or destiny refuses him, he will get what he wants through his own ambition. I'm also simply fond of that motif :>

♡ Fire – Sooo Kitty’s Pyro Vision was chosen to represent her codependence on others. Her Vision is her only source of self-esteem, being the only object which she was able to attain on her own. Alas, its warmth and light cannot compare to what Pantalone provides for her~ On that note, I’ll point out a narrative detail repeated in i. scarlet quartz, v. shivada jade, and v. the die is cast:: When Pantalone opens the door, he brings “warm light” into Kitty’s dark world.

♡ Love and contracts – Yeahh so Pantalone and Kitty are both cynical towards the concept of love. Similar to the former, Kitty views love as a give-and-take contract and refuses to use that word. So her “I love you” in the ending marks her complete descent into Stockholm Syndrome </3

⬩Chapter Titles⬩

♡ Jewels – For the most part, I referred to Genshin lore and irl symbolism. The jewels chosen with the most consideration were Smaragdus Jadeite, Shivada Jade, and Electro Crystal due to their lore, symbolism, and function respectively.

♡ Figures of speech – I didn’t know what else to use for Pantalone’s section dividers, so I just name-dropped a bunch of motifs or phrases lol. The last title vi. diabolic waltz is the title of the Kuroshitsuji ost which I described as the orchestral music for the dance scenes.

⬩Deleted Scenes⬩

♡ Fun fact, Kitty’s old life used to be angstier!! Originally, the distance with her friends was because Yinji was Chairman Lai’s mistress. (Cue a more dramatic reveal during the wedding) I scrapped that idea for the “too busy to hang out” tension in order to put more focus on Pantalone and worsen Kitty’s anxieties over being “more of a pet than a wife.”

♡ Pantalone adopts the stray cat from Yujing Terrace. I didn’t find the time to write that, sadly, plus I didn’t want to risk a “Pantalone dislikes cats” from Genshin canon lol. But yeahhh for now, the cat currently lives a comfortable life in the Regrator’s Liyue estate.

♡ I entertained the thought of writing a crossover with my Yandere! Capitano fic Herbarium, but I scrapped that idea because it didn’t contribute much to the story. Additionally, an interaction between Kitty and Damsel felt forced, given their conflicting personalities and the latter’s asocial nature.

⬩My Favorite Scenes⬩

First Kiss, Wedding Night, and “Stress Relief”

♡ Ansksnajaajahw I DIED writing those scenes. Compared to Capitano’s chivalry and comfort in Herbarium, Pantalone is more greedy and passionate with his physical affection. He strikes me as the type to take pride in tainting and overwhelming his darling during intimacy~ Honestly, I was just rlly thirsty for him and I think it shows in the sexual tension throughout Housecat (〃▽〃)

Aftercare Scene ft. Hand-holding

♡ I’m quite happy with this scene!! I wanted to cool down from the wedding night with fluff aaand it became a rare glimpse into Pantalone’s vulnerable side. Yes, it was necessary for me to add that final dash of dark spice~ That bitey ending was inspired by a scene from the manga “The Villainess and the Demon Knight.”

Pantalone Says No to Baby Trapping

♡ Honestly, this scene was quite self-indulgent. Aside from the Fatui’s ongoing mission, I tried to rationalize my Pantalone’s “I don’t want kids yet” speech with the fact that Kitty actually wants children due to her lack of wifely responsibilities. Hopefully, the scene played out well?? I was afraid that it would turn off some readers, but I hope it provided some dark wholesomeness and reverse-psychology-esque manipulation. And hahaha Pantalone’s greedy last line—

Diabolic Waltz: Reprise

♡ *sobs* Pantalone being vulnerable with his darling again……realizing that she has truly given herself up to him……comfortable enough to let his hair down and have fun dancing, because there is no crowd of partygoers to judge them…….just the stars watching them……Pantalone allowing himself to be genuine and to say “I love you” for realsies skdwkfwewnkww

♡ But yeahhh I’m rlly happy with how I ended the fic. Aside from the last waltz being a direct contrast to the beginning of Housecat, I wanted to show how Kitty isn’t the only one who is acting “differently” in this scene. I just wanted to see Pantalone all happy and victorious. And so they lived happily ever after ₍՞◌′ᵕ‵ू◌₎♡

⬩Pantalone x Kitty Playlist⬩

Songs which motivated me throughout the writing process. Istg why are these so perfect for Pantalone and Kitty’s story ˭̡̞(◞˃ᆺ˂)◞

♡ Diabolic Waltz — Kuroshitsuji ost

♡ Tricologe by Niru Kajitsu ft. flower

♡ il by Anna Evans golden folks

♡ Gensou no Kyrie — Dance with Devils song

♡ The Slightly Chipped Full Moon — Kuroshitsuji II ost cover by Lollia

♡

Aajsndjedj but yeahh that’s all for the twisted tale of the Regrator and his darling!! I was concerned about cramming too many ideas into this fic, but aahh I rlly wanted to exhaust all of my brainrot. And so we ended up with 15.8k words of my blood and tears~

I hope that more readers will enjoy Housecat and Alea Iacta Est. Do share your reactions and feedback with me—it truly warms my heart when you compliment my work!! Same goes for brainrot bc your keysmashes and suffering are a delight to read ლ(｀∀´ლ)

#pantalone #yandere pantalone #yandere pantalone x reader #pantalone x reader #yandere genshin #genshin x reader #fatui x reader #yandere fatui harbingers #tw: yandere #fem reader #jessamine-writing

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