#this is so random and written like shit and i just had inspiration for it out of nowhere– blaming one of the songs in the playlist 🙄 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Mobile US users spent an average of 115.8 minutes on Tumblr app monthly.

#this is so random and written like shit and i just had inspiration for it out of nowhere– blaming one of the songs in the playlist 🙄

kelin-is-writing · 1 year

Text

18 + MDNI

dabi x fem!reader

sometimes dabi would get turned on and want to have sex in the most random moments really. that time he fucked you bent over your vanity and facing its mirror, claiming that he did it because you looked way too hot while putting on your lipstick? or that one time he fucked you against your apartment’s front door twice in a row only because you’ve wore thigh high socks and he absolutely goes crazy over the way they hug a little too tightly your toned thighs?

that’s the intimidating dabi of the league of villains for you, who’s also a doting and horny boyfriend that would never miss a chance to tease you. but well, that’s just how this huge grumpy cat shows love and you adore everything about him anyway.

today was sunday and of course you wanted to relax all day and do nothing. dabi has come to crash at your place, like always, and was now taking a bath while you were laying on your stomach on the couch scrolling through your phone.

after a few minutes he comes out of the bathroom shirtless, jeans hanging dangerously low on his waist and a towel around his neck as he used the cloth to dry his black locks, walking up to your kitchen for a glass of water.

a second he was complaining about there not being food in the fridge, while the later one as he turns back dabi froze on spot when he saw you wearing a grey t-shirt that reached a little bit below the curve of your ass with only black panties under it, his azure eyes fixing right away on your cunt and the way the underwear was hugging it so well.

his eyes darkened in an instant as he left the jug of water and glass on the counter, walking around it, up to you.

not hearing your boyfriend say a word, you furrowed your eyebrows about to ask him why the silence when instead of his name a yelp escaped your lips as you felt an hand palm your ass and a caress long your clothed pussy, right between the folds.

turning back you see dabi sit right at your side, on the egde of the couch, stare down at you with pure hunger inside his turquoise eyes as he kept stroking your core achingly slow.

“your pussy looked so tempting and i’m a weak guy baby, you know that.”, he cooed with a fake sorrowful tone and an arrogant smirk on his lips, his middle finger moving now in circles between your folds before the tip went to rub over the little bundle of nerves, a whimper coming out from you right away.

he hooked two fingers of his free hand on the hem of your panties sliding them off and leaving them hang on your left leg, middle finger and forefinger already knuckle deep inside your pussy stroking your walls slowly making cries of pleasure come out from your lips.

after you came all over his fingers and pulled them out, dabi licked your juices off of his digits while grabbing your leg lifting it up over his shoulder as he got onto the couch. he lowered his already low pants and freed his dick from the restriction of his boxers; the villain rubbed his reddened tip in circles on your clit before sliding it long your slit and a second later he had already thrusted into you pushing his pelvis flush against yours.

“hff... fuck– look at how good you’re taking me babygirl...”, he pointed out with an excited smirk on his lips, an hand resting on your lower abdomen as he started thrusting at a pace so erratic that it didn’t let you time to breath.

the way he was pistoning into you made your head spin from the pleasure, every vein that drags along your walls felt simply fantastic and made you unable to stop moaning his name, while he looked down at you with scrunched up face letting out groans whenever your pussy clenched around his shaft.

dabi’s hand gripped tightly your thigh pushing it a little more towards you rising slightly on his knees and angling higher his hips, he then started to pound harder into you hitting a spongy spot inside your cunt that made you let out an high-pitched moan while resting an hand on his chest when he bend down to kiss you.

after few more thrusts that kept on hitting that spot, you held onto the border of the couch arching your back coming all over his dick calling his name in a loud whine as your eyes stared into the boy’s ones lovestruck, which made him grunt a satisfied smirk at you.

“want me– ngh– to fill you up princess?”, at your energetic nods he giggled amused, then stilling inside of you after few more powerful thrusts that slapped hard against your pelvis he spilled white hot ropes all over your walls making you bite down on your lip, while his eyes rolled at the back of his head as he let out a throaty groan.

when you two came down from your respective highs, he looked down at you panting hard before sitting up and pulling you with him, it was then that his dick hit your cervix out of nowhere making you shudder in pleasure:

“since you’re tempting me again, don’t get mad when later you won’t be able to stand and go buy groceries.”, he taunted smiling at you cocky, before kissing your lips voraciously.

#boku no hero academia #bnha #my hero academia #mha #dabi #touya todoroki #bnha smut #mha smut #dabi smut #touya todoroki smut #dabi x reader smut #touya todoroki x reader smut #kelin 🖋#that dabi playlist is really dangerous for me guys...#this is so random and written like shit and i just had inspiration for it out of nowhere– blaming one of the songs in the playlist 🙄

868 notes · View notes

tkingfisher · 1 year

Note

So I write all sorts of things (fiction, fanfic, screenplays) and my mind is cluttered garden of flowers and weeds and shiny ideas, and I'm wondering how to form a writing practice to clear it into tidy rows? Is it possible to shepherd untamed ideas into order?

How do you manage all your wonderful worlds, characters and inspiration and not feel haunted by the story bits and pieces in your head? Any practical tips beyond dark magic?

Thank you, you are such a constant inspiration for me, both prose and just your presence. <3

*laugh* Oh god, Nonny, if I ever find out, I’ll tell you! When you read books, you’re getting the Instagram-filtered view of a writer’s brain, all the flowers that grew out of the compost heap, carefully composed and shot in optimal lighting. The real inside of my skull is a magpie nest of Neat Shit I Read/Saw/Thought Up While Lying Awake At 2 AM. There are characters and ideas in there that I’ve been trying to get into a manuscript since I was twelve and typing on an Amiga 500.

But, that said…really, I think it’s okay. Creativity is inherently untidy. The compost heap can be corralled into a very pretty box made of sustainably harvested materials, hand-stained by traditional artisans being paid a living wage by an employee-owned company, but as soon as you lift the lid, it’s all worms and coffee grounds and old potting soil and cow shit and the vegetables you swore you were gonna eat this time before they went bad. That’s what compost is.

Nevertheless, having been in the business for…uh…fifteen years now? (@dduane is snickering at me, I can feel it) and having written nearly forty books, I can offer three bits of something less than advice. It’s what I do. It may not work for anyone else, but it’s what I do.

Un-Advice The First: If you get a shiny idea and you are super excited by it? Go ahead and chase it. Pull up a new page in Word or whatever and slap down a couple thousand words while it’s exciting. I know that this absolutely flies in the face of common wisdom, but quite frankly, my enthusiasm is a much rarer commodity than my time, so if I’m excited about something, I write it down until I’ve taken the edge off.

Then I usually save it into a big folder called “Fragments” and go back to work on whatever I’ve got a deadline on. (Usually. Sometimes the edge doesn’t wear off, and I wind up with another book. Which, y’know, darn.)

There are vast numbers of people who will tell you that a shiny idea is a sign that something is wrong with your current project and the solution is to knuckle down and work! through! it! And those people are probably right for them, and I trust they know how their own brains work. Me, though, I got ADHD like a bat has wings. My hard drive is a vast swamp of story beginnings, neat ideas, random scenes. And that’s okay because I still get books finished.

In fact, it’s better than okay. Not that long ago, my agent sent a novella to a publisher and they said “We’ll take that novella and three more novels. What’ve you got?” And I ended up plundering my hard drive and sending the editor a good dozen random beginnings until we found one that we both liked, and then I wrote the rest of that book. And then another one. If I hadn’t had all those fragments lying around, though, it would have been a miserable experience of writing book pitches and trying to think of stuff I could get excited about. (This may not be how some editors work, but it’s how my editor and I work, anyhow.)

Un-Advice The Second: Trust that everything will find a home eventually.

This one is easy to say and hard to do because sometimes you get that overload that if you’re writing the book about, say, werebear nuns, you aren’t writing the one about the alien crustaceans. Or worse, you feel guilty. If you don’t use that one cool thing, was all that time you spent on it wasted?

Breathe. Be easy. Every single cool thing does not need to go into a single book. There is no sell-by date on the neat character. You will probably write many books in your life and all those random characters will find a home. (Seriously, the werebear nuns were lurking for like a decade.)

For me, at least, when I find the spot where something fits, it often snaps into place like a Lego. Easton’s backstory as a soldier from a society where soldiers were a third sex had been kicking around in my head for a few years, derived from about three different sources, and then I wrote the opening to What Moves The Dead and all of a sudden Easton was there and alive and they had strong opinions about everything and I had ten thousand words practically before I turned around.

You can also stave off guilt by writing some of your ideas in as highly personal Easter Eggs. A couple of my books have references to a white deer woman, a heroic deed done by a saint and the ghost of a bird, and a woman with dozens of hummingbirds on tiny jeweled leashes. Those are all characters and stories I’ve had vague notions about, but haven’t managed to work in anywhere or learn much more about. Still, the passing reference is enough to make me feel like I haven’t abandoned them.

(The advantage to this is that once you DO write those in, the readers are all “oh my god, she foreshadowed this a decade ago, she must have planned this all out in advance!” Then you look really clever and well-organized and no one has to know that you have no idea what you’re doing.)

Un-Advice The Third: Write the kitchen sink book.

At one point, I had so many stray ideas that hadn’t gotten into a book yet—the tree of frogs, the dog-soldiers, the stained glass saint, the albatross and the shadow of the sun, and also I wanted to write something with Baba Yaga—that I hauled off and wrote a book where I just put in everything and the kitchen sink. It’s called Summer in Orcus. There are bits in there that I had been cooking in the mental compost heap for decades, but that weren’t enough on their own to sustain a whole book. The phrase “antelope women are not to be trusted” showed up in my head some time in college. It’s a fun little book and I’m proud of it, but it’s very much a patchwork quilt of weirdness. But it’s also written so that if later on, an antelope woman shows up in another book in another context, that just adds to their mythology, it doesn’t break canon or whatever.

(Pretty sure I’m not the only one who has done this, either. China Mieville has said that he wrote Perdido Street Station because what he really enjoyed was writing all the weird monsters.)

So yeah, that’s my advice, for what it’s worth. Some days I just tell all the fragments and ideas that I promise that I’ll get them a home eventually but I need to write this thing here now. Sometimes I throw down enough words to get the story stabilized and then I’m okay to move on. Sometimes I write multiple books simultaneously.

Any method you use to write the book, so long as it doesn’t hurt you or anyone else, is a perfectly valid method. If anyone tells you different, you send them to me.

(…god, I hope that was the question you were actually asking, Nonny, and that I didn’t go off on a completely different tangent when you just wanted to know how I keep track of a plot or something.)

#long #rambling #writing

5K notes · View notes

yougavemeyourheartyouknow · 5 months

Text

Oh, you wanna play psycho killer? (Ghostface! Miguel O’Hara x Fem! Reader x Ghostface! Peter B Parker) Part 1

RAAAAA! Excited about this one! Based off this post. Inspired by this drawing from Andalusia_Lu on Tiktok. Not proofread. Tbh I’m kinda nervous about this one but…Enjoy! Also in this story MJ and Peter are just friends. This is probably the darkest think I’ve written.

(Y/N) - Your name.

NSFW!!, Cursing, use of alcohol, death, murder, yandere behavior, Reader has a bf who does die, violence, blood, said reader’s bf calls her derogatory remarks behind her back, religious imagery(I think???), stalking, male masturbation, invasion of privacy, reader being drugged, panty stealing, stalking, implied kidnapping, gore, cameras being placed in readers home without their knowledge, it’s a horror one shot so… you know what you’re walking into. Dead Dove Do not eat, MDNI!

Word count: 2.5k

Part 2

Masterlist

—

October 31st, Halloween night. Also know as the night that gives college students an excuse to get fucked up while in a shit quality costume that cost 50 bucks at spirit Halloween.

That little rule you are not exempt from, that’s how you found yourself in a random college frat party at NYU, a bottle of beer in one hand, and your boyfriend’s in the other as you drag him through the crowd so you both can dance. The alcohol in your system made your whole body relaxed and your cheeks glow with a dash of red over them, your eyes half-lidded and your smile wide as you looked up at Daniel while Promiscuous from Nelly Furtado blasted through the house. You looked like an angel straight from heaven, although that might be due to your customer, being dressed up as Juliet from the 1996 movie, while your boyfriend was clattered in armor as Romeo. The costumes being your idea after having rewatched the movie a few weeks ago.

You both had lost the rest of your group in the crowd, Jess and MJ had said they were going to the kitchen while Miguel and Peter had said they were going outside to get fresh air but you haven’t seen them since, you wouldn't have extremely worried, if it wasn’t for the reason sightings of the ghostface killer that had been popping up on the news though. Sure maybe going to a party wasn’t the best idea either but you figured you would have been fine since you were going in a group, I mean, what wouldn’t you be okay? It’s not like an actual serial killer goes after a group of young adults who are all drunk right? But now you’ve lost 4 out of 6 people in said group. But maybe in the small chance you do get targeted, you should be able to stand a chance since your Daniel was always in the gym with Miguel, so he was pretty jacked (not as jacked as Miguel though but you’ll never say that out loud).

One song turned to two then to three, just like the beers in Daniel’s hand, you had slowed down so you could at least be sober enough to order a Lyft for when the night was over. Eventually you were whisked away from your boyfriend by MJ and Jess, thankful that they were still at the party and nothing happened to them.

“Hey, have you guys seen Peter or Miguel?” You shouted over the music after a while, Jess just shrugged, before MJ answered.

“They texted me that they found Daniel and he’s like, fucked up apparently.”

—

“Please!”

Stab.

“I don’t want to die! Please stop!”

Stab.

“I’ll give anything! Just don’t kill me!”

The begs and pleads become more desperate and sloppy with every second, the words slurring more together from the alcohol and the crimson red liquid dribbling out of Daniel's mouth. The sight was almost enough to make the two men feel pity. Almost.

“Anything?” The shorter one asked with an agonizingly slow head tilt, his voice altered from the voice changer attached to the plastic mask, signaling for the other to stop plugging the knife into their victim’s stomach. Despite not liking being told what to do, he dropped Daniel on the floor with a snarl. Daniel quickly retracted into a small ball, shaking arms going to cover his bloody wound with a groan and whimper.

“We want (Y/N).” If it weren't for him being in excruciating pain and bleeding out, Daniel would have thought they were joking, but the tone in which the words were spoken made his blood that was spilling out from his stomach and mouth run cold.

“W-what?” He asked as he tried to keep his breathing from becoming shallow and his head from becoming too dizzy, but he was failing miserably.

“You heard us. We. Want. (Y/N).” The larger one spoke this time. How badly, he wanted to emphasize each word with another stab, the knife in his hands twitched a bit as he tightened his grip on the black handle. He was itching for an excuse, but he’ll refrain.

For now.

Maybe it was the way he responded to a stressful situation, or maybe it was the lack of blood finally affecting his brain, but Daniel had the nerve to laugh. Fucking laugh. The laugh was breathy, and in between coughs and groans, causing Miguel and Peter to look at their prey like he was the crazy one. Rage filled their bodies when Daniel finally composed himself enough to talk again.

“Y-you can’t be serious? …Right? You-you’re gonna kill-kill me over some bitch?”

How fucking dare he.

How dare he speak about you like you were some random skank, like you were a pile of dirt. You were a fucking goddess, Miguel and Peter knew that, because they worshipped you like one. They didn’t see what you saw in Daniel, he didn’t deserve you, no one did, except Miguel and Peter, they would treat you better than any other man that roamed this stupid planet, and especially far better then the sorry excuse of a boyfriend that they had on the ground like he was a wounded animal.

For someone who was about to die, he sure had a lot of nerve.

He didn’t love you like they did, he didn’t know your every move like they did. They were like your real life guardian angels, always following behind you to make sure no one would harm so much as a hair on your pretty little head, and how lucky were they, that you were juuust oblivious enough that you don’t notice them, just enough to brush of your rummaged trash as raccoons, just enough that you didn’t noticed when a pair or two of your dirty panties go missing, you had too many to keep track of all of them anyways. Never knowing that one of the two would sneak into your apartment while you were asleep to grab them from your hamper, no matter which boy had decided to embark on their mission, both of them had to fight against the struggle to not stay and watch you sleep, fighting the urge to release their painful hard members and stroke while watching you sleep. They’d be lying to themselves if they said they haven’t lost the battle at least once before, biting into their free hand to stop any moans from escaping and waking you up, while they fist fuck their cocks with the other, but can you blame them?

They just loved you so much and you loved them too, you just haven’t realized it yet. How could you when that pest of a boyfriend of yours was pumping your head full of false thoughts? He didn’t love you like Peter and Miguel did. Sure Daniel might seem like he loved you so much, going as far as to get you flowers and gifts from time to time, but Miguel and Peter’s gifts they would give you were so much better, because these gifts were all given to you with the same purpose. To help them watch over you, make sure you were safe, strategically planning to make sure to eventually fill your entire home with cameras right under your adorable nose. The teddy bear that sits on your bed and the light up mirror over your bathroom sink were first of course.

Peter couldn’t help himself, with all of his force, he kicked Daniel right in the balls, causing him to curl up more in pain. Miguel was going to do the same when his phone pinged in his pocket, he quickly took it out and checked it, your name filling his screen made his heart skip a beat.

“It’s (Y/N). She’s asking where we are, and wants us to meet her at her apartment after she drops off Jess and MJ in 15 minutes.” Miguel mumbled as he looked down at his phone, before looking up at Peter then down at their prey on the ground. “She probably thinks we’re still with him, what should we do with him?”

Peter’s eyes followed Miguel’s gaze down to the half- conscious Daniel, silent as if thinking about what to say, or more likely what to do with him.

“We could leave him here for dead?” Peter suggested, but Miguel shook his head at the thought, too risky, they couldn’t have the chance of him being found by someone and taken to the hospital, that could ruin everything.

“You both… ar-are fucking psychotic! Killing me over some-some bitch who doesn’t eve-even give good fucking… fucking head!” Daniel yelled between coughs, more blood falling from his blue-turning lips, he looked like he had seen a ghost due to how pale he was becoming from the blood lost, and now he’s gonna become one. Miguel’s phone buzzed again, this time you only sent a single question mark, looking down at his phone.

“I want you to know that if I wasn’t about to be late to see you, I would beat this guy bloody, for the way he talks about you.” Miguel said out loud as if you could actually hear him, as if you were actually here to hear how true those words were, but instead Miguel raised his knife with one hand and grabbed Daniel’s hair with the other. Enjoying the way the Dani’s eyes widened in fear, his weak arms flailed around as he tried to fight the larger man off of him, but it was no use. “Guess I’ll just have to cut straight to the point.” He said, the smirk evident threw his altered voice before putting his knife against Daniel’s throat and slashing it open. Watching whatever life that was left in him drain from his eyes.

Peter being the skilled photographer he was, took a selfie of the two with their slayed animal, now it’s time to go claim their trophy.

—

Something was off.

Like seriously off, ever since Peter and Miguel disappeared at the party neither of them had answered their phone, and as soon Dani disappeared neither had he. Maybe the party wasn’t the best idea in retrospect, you let out a sigh as you entered your apartment, and collapsed on your couch, wanting to try and calm your racing thoughts a bit before you changed out of your costume. Closing your eyes, and taking in a deep breath.

Your phone started to ring.

Usually, you didn’t answer calls from people who weren’t already in your contacts, so the “blocked number” would normally set off red flags, but maybe the alcohol was still making your brain foggy, because without thinking you answer the call and put your phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

No answer.

You left out a huff and tried again.

“Hellooo?”

When you didn’t get an answer again you rolled your eyes.

“I think you got the wrong numb-“

“Wanna play a game?”

“I’m-I’m sorry?”

“I said, wanna play a game?”

“Um no thanks. I'm hanging up now.”

“Hang up and you won’t get to see your special surprise though.” Oddly enough, you grew a bit curious.

“Wha..what do I have to do?” You asked.

“It’s simple, We’re gonna play a small game of hot and cold.” You had a feeling this wasn’t a good idea, maybe you shouldn’t answer the call. “Right now you’re cold.”

Without another word, you slowly got up, and made your way down the hall, your floorboard creaking underneath your heels.

“Warmer.”

Your heart begins to beat in your ears, you bring a shaky hand up to the doorknob of your bathroom, you go to open the door when the voice from the other end of the phone spoke again.

“Colder.”

You quickly bring your hand back down to your side and let your heavy footsteps make your way into your bedroom.

“Hotter.”

You swallowed the thick lump of saliva down your throat as you made your way to the left side room, your eyes dead set on your closet.

“Hotter.”

You closed the gap between you and the closet, and brought your hand to the handle, mentally preparing yourself for whatever hides before the wooden doors.

“You're on fucking fire baby.”

Your hand drew back the door, the sight made you let out a blood curdling scream, almost dropping your phone in the process. Your Daniel, dead, sitting on the closet floor, gutted out like a fish. The voice on the other end of the phone let out a sly chuckle before speaking once again.

“Sorry about your boyfriend, guess all those muscles didn’t help much.” He mocked before the call went dead, and you finally released your phone, it falling to the floor, as your body began to shake and your breathing became rapid.

You let out a sob and began to stumble away from the mangled corpse that you once called your boyfriend, only for your back to meet with a what felt like a wall of muscle, you quickly look up over your shoulder, being met with the infamous ghostface mask that has been plastered all over the news.

“What’s the matter (Y/N)? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” The altered voice taunted. No, no, no,no. This cannot be happening. You shook your head as another sob left your lips stumbling away from the masked killer and into the hallway, expecting him to follow after you, but instead he just watched you. If you were thinking straight. You’d probably realized that this was a trap, but you weren’t thinking straight, as you finally reached the front door, you went to unlock the door and leave your apartment, but before you even stepped foot out of the door a large hand came and grabbed you around your waist. You take in a deep breath and open your mouth to scream, but instead a white cloth came and covered your nose and mouth, the strong smell of chemicals quickly filling your lungs.

“Surprised (Y/N).” This voice was a bit deeper, then the one from your bedroom, your head became dizzy as you eyes fluttered, your vision was beginning to blacken, before you were fully go under, you saw the man holding you still was a lot larger than the other one, it clicked, there were two of them.

You black out.

—

“She out?” Peter asked Miguel as he slipped off his mask, Miguel following suit.

“Like a light.” Miguel smirks as he goes to pick you up bridal style, your body limply laying in his arms. The two couldn’t help but smile as they watched your sleeping form, so peaceful looking, like an Angel. Their angel. Their plan played out just as they wanted, you were theirs now, and theirs alone. No one could come in the way of you three anymore, all they had to do now was make sure you wouldn’t leave them. But how would you do that if you didn’t know where you were? You couldn’t. That’s why Miguel gently placed you in the backseat of Peter’s car, before getting into the passenger’s seat. They were going to make sure you were far, far away from your old life, so you could start your new one with your lovesick killers.

451 notes · View notes

ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 7 months

Note

I have request for Spencer Reid x Plus size fem!reader. Maybe her and Spencer are good friends and she gets stood up on a date or her date leaves after seeing her and Spencer swoops in and love confession.

p.s I love you work. <3

༉‧₊˚. 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

― pairing: spencer reid x plus size!reader

― summary: admitting that you got stood up on a date would be like admitting defeat, too bad spencer's too good of a best friend to let you go through this alone, even if he was the last person you wanted to see.

― warnings: best friends to lovers, getting stood up on dates, a red flag named chris (sorry to all the chris' out there), mutual pining, requited love, love confessions, and implied dates!

― wc: 1457

⋆ a/n: OH, MY GOODNESS IT'S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I'VE WRITTEN AN ACTUAL ONESHOT. i got hit with a random bout of inspiration out of nowhere and i have a bunch of fanfics that already have banners made but they're unwritten and rotting in my drafts so i'm trying to clean them out first. thank you for this and i hope you enjoy some best friend!spencer reid!!

masterlist | AO3

Leave it up to you to be stood up on a date you didn’t even want to go on.

You were even looking for anything with anything else, you just needed a distraction, you needed anything that would help you move on from him. It wasn’t Spencer’s fault that you were in love with him – well, it actually kind of is – but that’s beside the point.

There was no way you could continue to sit there and allow yourself to wallow in self-pity over the fact that your feelings for your longtime best friend weren’t reciprocated. You were a grown woman for God’s sakes! And as a grown woman, it was up to you to make grown up decisions. One phone call to Derek was all it took for you to get hooked up with some dude that he knew.

“He’s a good guy,” He said.

Yeah, right. Good guy your ass.

Not only did you look stupid, but you were left stranded in a sports bar surrounded by a bunch of strangers – no, scratch that! Almost all of the patrons in this bar tonight were men, it was football season. You were practically asking to get murdered! What kind of FBI agent would you be if you allowed yourself to be murdered over the fact that some guy’s team lost.

With a sigh, you gazed at your chat between Chris and you. You had sent him a text thirty minutes ago asking where he was when he was ten minutes late, but even that message had been left unread.

The only reason why you were still here was because you were oh so painfully embarrassed, and you hoped that others around you couldn’t tell that there was supposed to be a second person joining you at your very barren booth that you had somehow managed to score.

Now that you think about it, how in the hell had you allowed this man to talk you into going to a sports bar instead of oh, I don’t know, a restraunt with a calm, and comfortable atmosphere?

Maybe it was the fact that the only person’s face you could see in your mind as you discussed where you were going to go together was Spencer’s. As ashamed as you were to admit, you mostly imagined a disappointed look on his face when he realized you were going out with someone else, but even you knew that was damn near impossible.

It wasn’t your failed date that was the shit show – even though it is a close second – it was you that was the main attraction. How could you have allowed yourself to be this childish? You weren’t in high school anymore, and you hadn’t been in some years, but old habits die hard, you guess?

It didn’t have to be common knowledge to tell that your romantic life when you were in school was very, very sad. You often found yourself alone on most weekends, ample amount of time to study right under your fingertips. You figured that when you had gotten older things would have gotten better but… nope.

You didn’t know who to call.

Would you call Derek and blame him? No, he couldn’t have known, but you could totally get him to beat Chris’ ass. The thought of your favorite and very muscular chocolate thunder roughing the piece of shit up helped to easy your nerves, badly enough. There was just one person you couldn’t bring yourself to call, and that was Spencer.

Calling Spencer meant that you were giving up, that you were waving the white flag, that you were still in love with him and no number of blind dates, good or bad, could change that.

You bit the inside of your cheek in thought, at least you had dressed up in something comfortable.

“Can I sit here?” You heard someone ask over the bustling noise of the bar.

“Honestly, you can just have the thi–” You spoke without looking up, but when you did, your words died in your throat.

There Spencer stood in his full glory; tall, lanky, nerdy, and extremely uncomfortable, but nonetheless, he slid into the sticky seat across from you with an awkward smile.

“Spence? What are you doing here?” You asked in shock, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I uh- Morgan called me. He said that Chris told him to tell you something came up, but I uh- I figured that wasn’t true.” He explained sympathetically. You scoffed, your body slouching along with the noise. “Yeah, no shit.” Your words were bitter and harsh, which caused you to squeeze your eyes shut.

“Fuck, Spence. I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to talk to you like that, I’m just… frustrated.”

He reached out his hand, albeit reluctantly seeing as though the table was in the same state as the seat, maybe even a bit worse. You looked down at it then at him before relenting, your full hand slipping into his lithe one perfectly, as if it belonged there.

The fact that this felt so right made your stomach twist sickeningly, fingerings twitching in desperation to pull away. You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced yourself to stay. You did not have the mental compacity to dig yourself out of another hole.

“No, it’s okay. I understand.” He reassured, his thumb caressing the back of your knuckles gently. “I came as soon as he called,” He then looked around, “Especially after he told me where you were.” You laughed a bit at his concern, your body feeling lighter as it finally straightened.

A soft grin graced your features.

“Thank you, Spence. Really. I know how uncomfortable these kinds of places make you. I just- I really thought tonight was going to go differently.” I thought that things between us were going to go differently, is what you really meant.

“I’m sorry, I know you liked him.”

You grimaced at the word ‘liked.’

“I think ‘liked’ would be the last word I would use to describe how I feel for Chris.”

It was his turn for his eyebrows to furrow. “What do you mean.”

You huffed. “What I meant was that I didn’t even want to go on this stupid fucking date anyways, but I had too… I had too…” You allowed your words to trail off when you had caught yourself about to admit something you had fought years to keep under wraps.

“You had to what?”

Goddamn him and his never-ending curiosity.

“Just leave it alone, please?” You pleaded. You looked up at him from beneath your eyelashes, your gaze soft and vulnerable. “Okay.”

A silence – what was an equivalent to silence – settled over the both of you. The air was thick with unspoken words and feelings, an invisible line was drawn that the two of you were too scared to cross.

“I would’ve never stood you up, you know.” Spencer piped up quietly, his grip that had gone limp in yours tightening. “What?” Your breath hitched. “And I would’ve taken you to someplace nicer than this.” His voice was shaky and forceful, as if he was forcing himself speak in fear that if he didn’t, he wouldn’t say anything at all.

“What are you saying?” You were breathless, the butterflies that fluttered around in your gut making you nauseous. Hope bloomed at a dangerous rate in your chest.

“What I’m saying is that if I were to take you out on a date, it would be a lot better than this.” He had finally gotten the courage to raise his gaze instead of focusing on where your hands were interlaced. “I would take you anywhere you wanted to go, then I would try my best to make it memorable for you because I…” He gulped. “Because I love you.”

Your ears were ringing. There was sweat beginning to form on your hairline.

“You’re being serious?” The question sounded more like a plea. “Because if you’re saying this because you feel bad, I-” He cut you off. “I don’t feel bad.” He lowered his head to where yours was in an attempt to connect your gazes deeper.

“I really do love you. I- I have for a long time.” Spencer confessed.

You breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thank God.” You said through a wobbly smile. His smile matched yours. You could feel the fact that both of your hands were extremely clammy with nerves, but none of you could find it within yourself to care.

“Can I cash in that date now?”

“Now?” He asked incredulously, lifting his free arm to check the time on his wrist. “It’s pretty late.”

You gave his hand a squeeze.

“I’m pretty sure we can figure that out.”

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon @hallecarey1 @zippertwat @alixwriter

657 notes · View notes

kokoch4n3l · 2 months

Text

˗ˏˋ sacrifice(eat me up) ࿐ྂ "I dedicate to you my life, you can devour me whole"

summary: you held grudges. too many of them. so when Mikey beats your ass and puts you into a two-day coma after the disbandment of Toman, you're pissed and without thinking, show up at his place with a knife to get some revenge. It doesn't turn out the way you expected.

notes: inspired by the lyrics of sacrifice by enhypen. my first [y/n] fic and first ever fic written in second person! I hope it's acc good lol. NOT edited.

warning: gang violence, near-death experience, use of weapons, toxic relationships, slight knife play(?), suggestive themes, death threats, mature language, pet names(baby, pretty baby)

pairing: kanto!mikey x f!reader

word count: 1256

It felt like the world was ending when Mikey disbanded Toman. It was so out of the blue, so out of nowhere, so random, you couldn't understand why he did that or why you were so upset in the first place because it's not like you were ever officially a member anyway. You were simply a glorified nurse for the captains of the gang. You Mikey’s childhood friend, both of you training at his father’s dojo, close to Baji as well. When Mikey created Tokyo Manji Gang oh you pissed off. Girls weren’t allowed in biker gangs. It was annoying but you were an unofficial member by affiliation somehow. Somehow.

Mikey was acting weird after that. Or at least on a particular day when shit really came crashing down on you. He came over to your house, knuckles bloody, a blank look on his face. As usual, you patched him up. Took care of him while your phone was buzzing with calls from Mitsuya, Draken, Pah and all the former captains. As you answered, Mikey grabbed your phone and threw it at the wall. In one swift move, Mikey pinned you to the floor. He had left you for last after pushing away the old squad leaders, giving you a beating that you were certain could have killed you if you didn't fight back. He wanted to move on. He wanted nothing to do with you, nothing to do with Draken, or Mitsuya, or Pah, and he was always someone who got his way in the end.

But you were stubborn and held grudges. So when you wake up from your two-day coma and can stand without wanting to pass out, you go to Mikey’s place with a switchblade in your pocket and your left wrist in a cast. It isn’t hard to barge into his room since you have a spare key. He was doing something. You didn’t know exactly what but before he could turn around you flicked open the switchblade. Just as he turns around you take the chance and lunge at him, sending the both of you to the floor of the shed and you press the short blade to his throat. Mikey makes no move to try and defend him. Instead, he’s looking like this amused him. Like he knew you would come back because no matter what he's put you through, you always had in the end. It was almost humiliating. “A knife?” he murmurs, his hands coming up to hold your hips while you straddle him “That’s cute, still can’t beat me just like when we were kids?”

That angers you. The tone he was using, the memories he was using against you. It wasn’t fucking fair. You had never been able to beat him during sparing sessions when you still used to go to the dojo. Even now, you can’t. It wasn’t fucking fair. You give him the nastiest look you can muster and press the blade a bit harder against his throat. “I’ll kill you. I swear I’ll fucking kill you Manjiro” You hiss angrily at him “You think you can do that shit to me and get away with it?”

Mikey however, laughs. He fucking laughs. “Yeah, I do think that”

You feel annoyed. Mikey’s hair is out, not in the usual half-up half-down style. His dark circles were prominent and he looked paler than usual. But fuck he was still so pretty. “You’re a fucking asshole Mikey—”

“—Manjiro” He says in a way that corrects you, squeezing your hips “not Mikey… Manjiro”

“Shut up!” You yell and use your half-casted hand and punch him in the jaw

Mikey doesn’t even flinch nor does he make a sound. He rolls his jaw and stares up at you with a blank look and squeezes your hips even tighter. “I’ll kill you! I swear to god I’ll kill you!” You yell at him “Why the fuck did you do that to me?!”

You could feel yourself getting emotional. It was your weakness. You tended to cry when you got too angry. It was embarrassing and the reason you didn’t get angry as much and right now you hoped you didn’t burst out into tears while you were holding a knife to the Invincible Mikey’s throat. But you start to tear up anyway, your vision going blurry. “You gon’ cry, baby?” Mikey murmurs, a hand coming up to hold your cheek so carefully in comparison to last time when he almost killed you with those same hands

It’s humiliating. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. You were supposed to hurt him the same way he hurt you. But you had always been weak when it came to Mikey. Even after he hurt you like he did, even after he almost killed you— you were weak. “I hate you…” You sniffle as tears start to run down your cheeks “I hate you so much Manjiro”

Your tears drip down your eyes and onto his face due to the way you’re hovering over him. But Mikey doesn’t waver nor does he change the condescending expression or tone he has. It was embarrassingly easy for him to pull the switchblade out of your hand. You shiver as he drags the blunt edge of it against your cheekbone while you continue to cry. Mikey sits up and you slide down from his hips to his lap, straddling his thighs now. “Poor little baby” He says softly but in the same mocking tone, now dragging the blunt edge of the blade against your jaw

Tears run down your cheeks and you sniffle, shuddering nervously each time the cool metal makes contact with your skin. “Manjiro…” You cry like a damn child “Why did you do that to me?”

Mikey however smiles as you cry. He leans over and licks up your tears. It’s gross. You cringe and flinch away from him but his free hand that wasn’t holding the switchblade has a firm grip on your waist. “So pretty, hm… My pretty baby”

He wasn’t taking you seriously. This was fun to him and it was making you even more mad and then anger was making you cry like a damn child. “This isn’t fair” You cry as he lowers you onto the floor on your back

Mikey has the blade pressed to your throat now, your hand lay limp on either side of your head. “It isn’t?” his tone is mocking “It was all just a test… Wanted to see if you’d always come back to me just as you said you would. Now look baby, you passed my test”

He sounds oddly cheery for someone who has a switchblade pressed to your throat and almost killed you about a month ago in your own house. “I’ll devour you whole like I want and you’ll let me like you always do” Mikey whispers as he presses a kiss to your forehead and presses the sharp edge of the blade slightly harder against your throat “You’ll let me won’t you?”

You were weak. Always too damn weak for Mikey. You sniffle and desperately grasp at his shirt. It was always like that and it would stay like that. You would let Mikey hurt you, kill you, bring you back to life, eat and devour you whole and spit you out as he pleases because… Because you were weak. “Yes…” you choke out through helpless and heartbreakingly sad-sounding whimpers

Mikey smiles and his free hand slides under your shirt. “Good girl… Now let me get a taste”

#tokyo revengers #mikey sano #mikey x reader #sano mikey manjiro #tokyo rev #tokyo revengers fandom #tokyo revengers x reader #sano manjiro #sano manjiro x reader #manjiro sano #kanto manji gang #kanto mikey

239 notes · View notes

bizarrelittlemew · 2 months

Text

i was hoping to make a post like this under happier circumstances, but here goes.

as some of you know, everything with the cancellation and renewal campaign has happened right on top of the worst part of my mom's cancer treatment (plus the show was cancelled on my actual birthday 💀). i won't go into details, but it's been tough. lots of ups and downs, mostly downs, luckily ending (for now) on as much of an up as circumstances allow. the whole thing has been weirdly tied to the cancellation for me, kind of amplifying every feeling. the grief got mixed up, and there was so much of it - mourning the loss of the kind of future i thought i'd have with my mother and the time we might not get, mourning the end of a show that means so much to me and is such a big part of my life. different types of grief, sure, and of different magnitudes, but in one big ugly swirl. i sort of had a breakdown right at the start of february, and it was because of news about my mom, but it morphed into my brain telling me everything i'd ever written was shit and wanting to delete it all. stuff like that, spilling over.

anyway. i was holding off on writing this post to see if the show got picked up by someone else. but i still want to say it. because what also spilled over was the support and community from this fandom, and being in this space (despite the rough times and high emotions) helped me through it, because of all of you here. whether we talk regularly, or you left a comforting reply or simply a like on one of my posts about having a hard time (i tried to keep them few), or wrote a nice comment on a fic, or said something funny or nice or insightful in the tags of a gifset, or was active here (or on twt) in any way, talking/sharing/creating stuff about the show - THANK YOU.

you all helped me through all the ups and downs, and i am so grateful. thank you for being here, listening, distracting, helping me feel some joy despite the horrors. i love you and i love this incredible show and all it has brought and will continue to bring and inspire, and although it should go without saying, i'm not going anywhere. just do me a favor and give yourself a big ol' hug from me, and know that you made a difference for some random guy on the internet (but in reality for many more, and for this fandom as a whole, just by being here and being you) 💕

#🐭📓#oh wow this got long #i grieved so much in january and never truly got my hopes up even though i of course wished something would happen #that the second “cancellation” message did not hit me as hard as it did for others - like i'd already absorbed that reality #but no matter what. all the effort was worth it - even for just the slightest chance of renewal and showing the cast and crew all the love #and seeing the fandom rally and all the fun moments we found along the way in a shitty situation none of us wished to be in #and for the record - i don't think this means there is no possibility of anything happening in the future #i just think the current/immediate negotiations fell through due to the current streaming landscape #you never know what can happen even if nothing happens for years #it's just that it's not happening right now and we shouldn't be at the edge of our seats. but instead settle into long term fandom mode #instead of constant campaign mode. keep showing all our love for the show and letting it inspire us and move us #and keep supporting the cast and crew in their next works #there is so much more to come from the same creative minds #and i for one am looking forward to experiencing it with you all 💗#ok i will stop rambling now skdjfhdjks

129 notes · View notes

stephstars08 · 8 months

Text

Dream

Ethan Landry x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol, Sexual References, Flirting, Adult Language, Anxiety/Stress, Angst, Fluff, Teasing, Secrets, Reveling Clothing Worn/Mentioned, Make Out Session, Implied Smut, and Maybe Some Grammar Errors. (Sorry if I forgot any!)

Summary: Y/N is best friends with Ethan ever since they met six months ago. Out of everyone in the group Y/N is the closest to Ethan since they have so much in common. She's very comfortable around him till she wakes up one morning having a dream where she almost kisses Ethan. After having the dream she can't stop thinking about him and the dream and it doesn't help that Tara, Mindy, and Anika tell her that she has feelings for Ethan. Every time she is with Ethan she acts all nervous. She finally realizes her feelings after having two more dreams but she avoids Ethan which makes him very worry about her so when he runs into her at a frat party he finally confronts her about her recent behavior. Will Y/N tell him about her feelings and her dreams?

Word Count: 2.958

Author’s Note: Hello Everyone! I just want to say thank you to all of the love and support you all showed on my last one shot! I am so thankful for you all! This has to be one of my favorite one shots I have like ever written since I kinda used inspiration to what was actually going on with me during the time I wrote this! I’m also going to see Jack’s new movie tonight and I’m so excited! Anyways I hope you all enjoy this one shot and I’ll talk to you all soon!

Y/N was at a party with her friends. She wasn’t having as much fun as her friends were since she hates coming to these types of events. She really wished that she was at her apartment wrapped up in her fluffy blanket watching a movie but no she let her friends drag her out of her own apartment to yet another house party that is just filled with drunk and horny people. Y/N doesn’t know why she keeps letting her friends drag her to these parties since she always ends up by herself in a corner somewhere. Tara always seems to wonder off by herself getting completely shit faced. Anika and Mindy flirt nonstop with each other which always makes Y/N feel like a third wheel. And then you got the boys Chad, and Ethan who mostly just stay together somewhere just drinking, dancing, and looking around to find a girl to flirt with and hook up with. Well Chad is trying to hook up with a girl. Ethan is similar to Y/N as he’s not a big party type of person because of his shy and dorky personality. Also, it doesn’t help that Chad always tries to push him onto some random girl.

Y/N couldn’t take the smell of all the alcohol and the loud music so, she decided to go outside to get a fresh breath of air. When she walked outside the packed house there were a couple of groups of people, but each group had only five people just standing around talking and drinking. Y/N walked pasted the two groups and saw there was no one on the side of the house so she sighed in relief as she stood on the side of the house by herself. She leaned her back against the side of the house and looked up into the clear night sky. She closed her eyes and took a deep and calming breath. She felt a hand land on her shoulder which startled her. When she opened her eyes, she relaxed when she saw that the person that touched her shoulder was Ethan. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Ethan said, taking his hand off her shoulder. “It’s okay, you didn’t mean to do it.” Y/N said keeping her back still up against the house.

“Why are you out here?” Y/N asked him as she folded her arms over her chest. “I could be asking you the same thing.” Ethan said which made her playfully roll her eyes. “I asked you first.” Y/N told him. “I was looking for you.” Ethan answered her question. “Your turn.” Ethan said as he leaned his shoulder on the house putting his hands in the pocket of his jeans. “I needed to get away from the noise and the smell of beer. I fucking hate the smell of beer.” Y/N told him with a disgusted look on her face.

Silence fell between the two, but it wasn’t awkward, it was comfortable silence.

“You know you shouldn’t be out here by yourself wearing that.” Ethan told her, breaking the silence. Y/N looked at him in confusion and then looked down at the outfit she was wearing. Y/N was wearing a crop top that showed some of her stomach, she had on a pair of short shorts that showed off her legs, and a pair of converse shoes. She didn’t think her outfit was too revealing. There are girls in that house that is just wearing a bra and shorts that don’t even cover their whole ass. “Why? You scared that some guy would come up to me and take me home?” Y/N asked humoring him as she stood up straight. “If I say yes, will you run away?” Ethan asked her as he used one of his hands to rub up and down her arm. “No.” Y/N answered as she moved closer to him which made him stand up straight again. She grabbed his hand and put it on her hip. They leaned in but before their lips could touch a loud ringing sound rang.

Y/N’s eyes shot open due to the ringing of her alarm clock. Y/N’s heart raced as she hit the snooze button to her alarm that just woke her up from the most intense dream she has ever had. “It was all just a dream.” Y/N whispered to herself. She just had the most realistic dream she had ever had, and it was about flirting and almost kissing one of her best friends. She has known Ethan for six months and they instantly connected since they have so much in common, but this is the first time she has had a dream like that about him and it was freaking her the fuck out.

Y/N broke out of her swirling thoughts when her phone started to ring. When Y/N looked at her phone she saw it was Tara calling her, so she picked her phone up from her nightstand and answered the call. “Hello.” Y/N said into her phone. “Hey, are you still meeting Mindy, Anika, and I at plaza on campus?” She heard Tara ask her. “Uh yeah, I’m getting dressed now.” Y/N said into the phone as she pushed her blankets off her body and rolled out of her comfy bed. “Okay, see you then!” She heard Tara tell her. After the girls said their goodbyes, the call ended.

Y/N put her phone down onto her bed and started to get ready. Hopefully spending time with her girls will keep her mind off the dream.

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

When Y/N got on campus she went straight to the plaza where she saw Tara sitting at one of the tables, so she made her way towards her. “Hey, I got you your favorite smoothie.” Tara said, handing one of the cups to her. “Thanks.” Y/N said as she took the cup and took off her book bag setting it down onto the ground. Y/N sat down next to Tara and took a sip from her smoothie. “Are you okay?” Tara asked sensing that Y/N has something heavy on her mind. “I had a dream last night and I can’t get it out of my fucking head!” Y/N said with a heavy sigh as she sat her drink down onto the table. “What was the dream about?” Tara asked her in a curious tone.

At first Y/N was spectacle about telling her but she knew she couldn’t keep this to herself since she knew it wouldn’t help. “I had a dream where Ethan and I almost kissed.” Y/N said as Tara took a drink of her smoothie. Tara went into a coughing fit since Y/N took her by surprise. “What the fuck?” Tara said with wide eyes once she calmed down.

“Hey, what are you girls talking about?” Anika asked, walking up to the table with Mindy. “Y/N had a dream that she almost kissed Ethan.” Tara answered. “Ew, gross.” Mindy said with disgust which made Y/N roll her eyes. “I don’t know why I had that dream! It felt so real.” Y/N said with frustration in her tone. Tara shared a look with Mindy and Anika. “Are you being serious right now?” Mindy asked her with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah, why?” Y/N said looking at Mindy with a confused stare. “Y/N you have like the biggest crush on Ethan.” Anika told her in a stern tone. “What? No, I don’t!” Y/N said now with a glare on her face. “You are such a fucking liar.” Tara said shaking her head. “Ethan is just my best friend!” Y/N said in a stern tone. “Keep telling yourself that.” Mindy said with a scoff. “Y/N, you literally look at him with heart eyes.” Anika said to her. “I do not!” Y/N said with frustration which just made the girls laugh at her. “You three are fucking ridiculous!” Y/N said standing up having enough of this conversation.

She grabbed her book bag and wrapped the straps around her shoulders. She grabbed her smoothie and turned to walk away but quickly hit the brakes since she almost ran into someone. “Sorry Y/N I almost ran you over.” Ethan said. When she looked into his brown eyes the dream she had flashed through her mind. Her heart rate sped up when the part of her lips leaning in to touch his flashed through her brain. “Y/N!” She heard Ethan call her name snapping her back to reality. “You, okay?” He asked her with concern in his voice and eyes. “Y-yeah I um…” Y/N stuttered not able to finish her sentence because of her nerves. “Are you sure? You don’t seem like it.” Ethan said still worried. He went to put one of his hands onto her shoulder, but she quickly stepped back from him. “I have to get to class!” Y/N told him and quickly walked away before he could say anything.

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

It was later in the day and Y/N still hasn’t gotten the dream out of her head. It didn’t help that the girls were telling her that she has feelings for Ethan. Yes, she is the closest to him out of everyone in the group and yes, she spends most of her time with him but it’s just friendly, nothing romantic.

Y/N decided to go to the library on campus to do some studying hoping that will help her out. She sat down at a table by herself and pulled out one of her textbooks. After about an hour Y/N has been losing focus because she keeps daydreaming about Ethan. She’s been on the same page for almost thirty minutes. “Fuck this!” Y/N hissed slamming the book closed and shoving it back into her book bag. She stood up wrapping the straps around her shoulders and made her way out of the library. She doesn’t know what she can do to get Ethan out of her head.

“Hey Y/N!” She heard someone calling her name behind her. When she turned around, she saw Ethan jogging up to her. When her Y/E/C eyes met his brown ones, her heart rate sped up just like it did this morning. She wanted to run away but something was telling her to stay. “Ethan um what’s up?” Y/N said in a nervous tone which he quickly noticed. “Are you okay?” Ethan asked her, worrying about her again. “Yeah, w-why do y-you ask?” Y/N stuttered which made her curse at herself. “Because of the way you’ve been acting.” Ethan told her. “Why are you acting all nervous around me?” He asked her.

Y/N was debating on if she should tell him about her dream and that she can’t stop thinking about him or if she should keep it to herself. Ethan is the person she trusts the most and he has told her multiple times that she can tell him anything. But this time is totally different. What if she tells him about her dream and it ruins what she has with him. She doesn’t want to lose him.

“Y/N, you are really worrying me.” Ethan said, breaking her out of her thoughts for the second time that day. Before Y/N could say anything Ethan out his hand on her arm which made her think back the part of the dream where he did exactly that. “I need to go!” Y/N said quickly, taking his hand off her arm and ran away before he could say anything else.

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

A couple days have passed, and Y/N can’t get Ethan out of her head. She had two more romantic dreams about him and one of them got pretty streamy. After the steamy dream that’s when she realized that the girls were right, she does have feelings for Ethan. Ever since their encounter outside the library Y/N has been avoiding him. Y/N’s feelings have been taking over and she’s scared that if she tells him he will end their friendship.

It was Friday night and of course Y/N let the girls drag her out to a frat party at one of the big frat houses. They knew that she had had a stressful week and knew that she deserved a night out. Y/N decided to wear something simple and not revealing at all. She was wearing a black tank top with a dark red flannel over it and black jeans with her black converse. Y/N was talking with Tara till she ran out of her drink, so she excused herself to the kitchen to get more. Y/N isn’t a hard drinker since she doesn’t like the taste or smell of beer so she usually just drinks anything fruity.

She sat her empty cup down on the counter in front of all the bottles. She saw that what she was drinking the bottle was completely empty. “Shit!” She hissed with a sigh. “Everything alright?” She heard an unknown voice say to her. When she looked over, she saw a tall guy with platinum blonde hair and had in blue contact lens in that were super obvious. She could also tell this guy must dye his hair blonde every single week. “There is no more of my favorite drink.” Y/N answered his question. “Anything here you suggest I try?” Y/N asked in a curious tone really needing to feel a buzz. “Oh yeah you gotta try this, it’s a party favorite.” The guy said picked up a bottle that read Sangria on it. He took her cup and poured her half a cup of the liquid. Y/N took the cup and took a drink of the liquid which burned her throat since this was her first-time having Sangria. “Wow, that’s strong.” Y/N said looking down at the rest of the liquid in the cup.

Right when she looked back up at him, he was leaning in to kiss her which made her quickly step back from him. “What the fuck are you doing?” Y/N asked him in a stern tone. “Going in to kiss a beautiful girl.” The guy answered by going in to kiss her again but again she stepped back from him. “I’m not going to kiss you! I don’t even fucking know you!” Y/N told him in a snappy tone as she glared at him. “Please! I am so fucking horny!” The guy said to her in a begging tone. “Oh, I see. You just want to get your dick wet.” Y/N said which made the guy nod his head multiple times. Y/N splashed the rest of the Sangria in her cup on the crouch of the guy’s pants. “There, now you got your dick wet.” Y/N snapped slamming the cup down onto the floor and walked away.

She walked outside of the house since she needed to get some fresh air and cool herself off. She walked onto the side of the house where there was no one. “Fuck!” Y/N hissed leaning her back on the house as she ran both of her hands down her face. Her stress-free night just got ruined by some horny asshole. “Y/N.” She heard a soft voice say her name. “Why are you out here Ethan?” Y/N asked taking her hands off her face. “I saw what happened in the kitchen.” Ethan said which made her roll her eyes. “I was about to go over there and help you but once I saw you splash your drink on him, I stayed back with Chad till I saw you walk out.” Ethan told her which just earned him a nod from her. She was avoiding all contact with him. She just kept staring forward.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” Ethan asked, starting to finally having enough of her recent behavior. “What?” Y/N asked looking over at him. “Why have you been avoiding me?” Ethan asked her in a stern tone. “Did I do something wrong?” He asked which immediately broke her heart. It hurt her that he thinks he did something wrong which is no where near that. “Ethan no, you did nothing wrong.” Y/N told him with soft eyes as she stood up straight. “Then can you please tell me what’s been bothering you.” Ethan said to her with a sigh.

Y/N knew she couldn’t keep it in any longer, so she put both of her hands on both of his cheeks and brought him in for a kiss. The kiss took Ethan by surprise, but he returned it which made Y/N surprise. As they kissed Ethan’s hands sat on her waist while her hands stayed on his now flustered cheeks. They pulled away from each other when they needed air. “Okay I’m not complaining but why did you kiss me?” Ethan asked once he caught his breath. “Because I have feelings for you and that was my way of telling you.” Y/N told him as she moved her hands from his cheeks to his shoulders. “Really? Wow that makes me feel so relieved since I have had feelings for you for a couple months now.” Ethan told her, which made her laugh. “Yeah, it three dreams I had about you to make me realize that I have feelings for you that are more than friendly.” Y/N confessed finally letting it all out to him. “Oh, so you dream about me.” Ethan said as his lips curved into a smirk. “I guess you are the man of my dreams.” Y/N said with a giggle which also made Ethan laugh.

“Do you want to ditch this place and go to your apartment?” Ethan asked her in a curious tone. “Hell yeah!” Y/N answered him with an excited smile. Y/N texted Tara letting her know that she’s going back to her apartment with Ethan and then made her way home with him for a fun night.

172 notes · View notes

reptilian-angel · 3 months

Text

The Cafe' Prince & The Killer Cook Pt. 1:

Chapter One - "Egg on your Face" Mega-Omelet

ME: Blitzø, having suffered a the worst day of his life, finds an unexpected silver lining when he awakens inside some random cafe hosted by a sweet (if oddly articulate) little girl, Via and her chef daddy, Stolas (Who looks like Hell on Wheels and cooks just as good, but who gave a shit.)

Later on after this chance encounter, a completely unanticipated offer might just be what Blitzø needs to turn his trashfire of an existence into a lifetime of amazing food, exciting moments and maybe even . . . Love?

Stolitz fluff, food chain puns, good food and healthy doses of angst await you at the Stars & Stir-Ups Cafe’!!! (Yet to be named)

Inspired by Pink Lomito’s ABSOLUTELY ADORABLE Stolitz Cafe’ AU fanart and written with their blessing, so I can only hope this will live up to the hype! (Displayed Below)

Full disclosure, I DO bake as a hobby, but I am NOT a career baker so most of descriptions of any foods mentioned, cooking and otherwise, will totally be written by an author completely in the dark, so please be gentle with any criticisms regarding any of the cooking displayed here. (Also see the end of the chapters for the recipes used, or at least the closest comparisions.)

Get Your knives and forks ready, you sinners & saints, and please enjoy!! I owe nothing!!!

Normal P.O.V.

When Blitzø woke up, he was automatically confused.

He had expected to be face flat, ass up on the shitty, grime covered flour of the bar he had trudged into last night like he had only hours to live. It had been a record-breaking shitty-ass day for him and he decided, like the many, many bitchy broke losers out there who had had their dreams squashed and trampled on like gnats in Hell, to drown his sorrows. Burning $ouls like tissue paper, he had began going for broke, mooching off other patrons and drunkards, earning petty shots in impromptu contests and maybe even performed a small strip tease for a gaggle of succubi and incubi.

He wasn’t a hundred percent sure how it ended, although he did have a vague recollection of plowing his dick into one of the incubi in one of the nasty as fuck bathroom stalls and wondering if the greasy pump soap could be used as lube before fading to black.

Christ on a Pogo stick he had REALLY gotten fucked up, didn’t he?

That said, he wouldn’t have been shocked in the slightest if he had found himself upside down, half- naked and definitely robbed of his wallet and phone in some shady alley at the crack of dawn. Yeah, that would have been normal for him.

Waking up in a plush, fancy-pants booth with a soft, comfortable quilt thrown on top of him was not.

He began leaning up to try and get some sense of where the fuck he was, but everything between his ears immediately started to bitch at him with an acute, relentless thrum that felt even worse than the headaches Moxxie gave him while bitching at him. On a good day.

He gave a low groan, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes in a sorry attempt to dull the throb. He swore everything was hurting, his horns were hurting, his scars were hurting, fuck, even his brand was hurting -

“Fudge.”

That innocent correction almost made him tumble out of the booth. He barely smacked his palms against the floor to keep him from actually falling face flat on its surface. Points for highly trained trapeze instincts. Centering himself, he found a pair of big, bright pink, and admittingly cute eyes of a little owl demon looking right at his.

Even with him being upside-down, he could tell they were a girl; maybe four or six, with a messy nest of long dark hair let loose save a small ponytail tied up on the side of her head with a scrunchie covered with moons and stars and a simple pink jumper with white stars of various sizes printed all over it.

It had taken a second for his hungover brain to figure out she was an owl, the white heart-shaped frame of her face like that of an owl’s a dead giveaway. The way she blinked at him only cemented that conclusion. She blinked calmly at him, despite how fucking weird he was sure he must’ve looked as a middle-aged, hungover, hot mess sleeping in what he just know fully realized was a restaurant booth.

Feeling caught off guard for a number of reasons, he could only respond with, “Sorry?”

The Little owl gave him a reproaching look, or at least as close to one as a toddler could manage. “‘Fudge’. You said it wrong.” She stated in all seriousness. “You’re supposed to say ‘fudge’ when you say the ‘F’ Word. Otherwise, it’s not polite.”

“Says who?” He asked.

“Says my daddy.” She said proudly as if she was referring to Lucifer himself. “He says ‘Politeness is the-” She paused, her face scrunching up in concentration, “- ‘Per-Ah-Get-Ive’ of sensible young demons’.”

He gave her a small smirk. “Oh yeah? And what is that?”

“What’s what?”

“Whatcha just said – Know what it means?”

He had expected her to respond with a "yes" as all little hellspawn do to prove they were just as smart as their parents who most of the time are dumber than the garbage man, and of course be all snooty and snobby about it too.

But, amazingly, she shook her head so much her hair flew in both directions. "Nope! But my daddy taught me that word. Which means it must be a smart grown-up thing to say. My daddy's all grown up and smart so it makes sense to try and apply it to my everyday 'Wing-guess-tics'."

"Uh, 'wing-guess-tics'?" He repeated with a smile.

The little owl nodded. "You know, the way you talk and how you sound to other people. Don't you ever take pride in how you sound towards others less proud of themselves?"

Blitzø sure as hell didn't. In fact, good mood or bad, he couldn't give two shits in a Gluttony Ring brand crapper what every other piece of shit thought about him or the way he talked. Which is exactly what he should tell to this innocent, sassy, too precious for words little oh satan's taint, he was too hungover for this.

Getting up at an old man's pace, he grunted, "I don't really have an answer to that, ow."

Okay, sitting up straight didn't quite stop the ache, but it wasn't harping so badly now.

The little owl made a sad sound. "That's too bad. Everything needs an answer."

"Does it?" He asked while once again pressing into his eyes to try and settle his headache. She gave an affirmative hum.

"They do. Sometimes."

Blitzø gave up trying to squeeze his eyeballs back into his brains and gave a slow roll of his neck, breathing with the small audible stream of cracks that followed. "Yeah, well, sometimes is better than no times I guess." Once his neck didn't feel so stiff, he looked down at the little owl who still was blinking up at him. "Hey kiddo?"

"Yes?"

"Can you, uh . . . Can you tell me where we are right now?" Geez, Blitzø, you need a little kid to tell your dumb, hungover ass where you crashed? Talk about hitting rock bottom.

She giggled like he had just told a funny joke. He admitted, even with a headache, the sound was nice to hear. "You're in our cafe, sir. Mine and Daddy's cafe. You've been here ever since last night."

He felt embarrassment collide with exasperation in a wave that only incensed the pounding in his skull. Grreeeaaat. Now he had to deal with a bitchy dad that could probably make a Karen more bearable. And considering his crappy luck, he could probably give Moxxie a run for his money when it came to whining and botching. Like he didn't have enough of a migraine already.

To distract himself from the imminent ass-chewing, Blitzø decided it was a good time as any to take a quick peek around. In case, things went tits up, he should know how much he could tag with horses and dongs later.

Look all over, he had to admit . . . He was pleasantly surprised.

The cafe was definitely a little ritzier than almost every other diner or bistro in Pride, at least the ones run by imps or sinners. It wasn't an 'in-your-face-so-suck-it-bitches' bourgeois nightmare that you found on the cover of rich people magazines, but it was still easy to smell the $oils that had been burned to buy the number of furniture and appliances that filled it. Pristine designer steel tables, floors tiles so clean you could eat off of them, cushy warm booths like the one he was sitting in that felt comfy enough to be small bed; yeah, this place made the local Hellbucks look like a gas station men's room (Which was also, coincidentally, one of the many places he would periodically wind up in after a bender).

He could probably make off with one of the tablecloths - Made with actual fucking linen, not rag or crappy burlap - And the money he would get for it would easily pay off his non-existent mortgage.

The walls, covered in perfectly intact, shiny wallpaper that was neither covered in mildew nor aged and peeling, colored the interior with a tasteful cream and vanilla striped pattern. Each dark strip of cream had subtle motifs of shooting stars, little crescent moons and cheery spiraling suns. The cushions seated on each chair and the fabrics of the booths were royal blue and spotted with muted violet stars, all differing sizes, each cleaner than the back seat of an Imp City taxi cab. Plus, no springs popping up to try and fuck him in his little red hole.

He then noticed the bar. A quaint but spacious counter as long as Blitzø's body and tail combined, a simple but pricey cash register at one end, with matching leather stools lined up perfectly beneath it. A large glass case half the size of his van sat at the other end, the inside holding shelves of numerous plates of decadent-looking desserts and pastries that drew an expectant grumble from his stomach.

It wasn't his fault, the last thing Blitzø remembered having that was even close to food was some outdated peanuts and the olives he wiped from some douche who had ordered nothing but martinis that were drier than Wraith in a heatwave.

And he normally hated olives, Christ, he must've been fucked up to devour those things, pit and all. Fuck, did I bang the guy who ordered then too?

Okay, not the priority right now, Blitzø. Especially with the cute little kid in front of you whose dad is definitely gonna throw you out on your ass the minute he sees you -

"Oh! Daddy's awake! Good morning, daddy!"

Fuck.

Blitzø jerked his head up at her cheerful greeting, opening his mouth if only to curse at how his head throbbed in response -

— Only for it to immediately die when he caught sight of "Daddy" coming into the cafe'.

Fuck him twice.

The demon that had stepped into his view was, hands down and pants down if his belt was loosened, one of the most gorgeous demons he had seen.

And the tallest, Jesus Christ.

The owl demon was as tall as a tree, with legs for days ending in jet black talons that clicked delicately against the immaculately clean tiles as he strode over. His body was much, much thinner than Blitzø had expected, delicate and lithe with sinfully svelte curves around his well-rounded hips that he felt an instant, barely concealed urge to wrap his legs around and squeeze. His upper body was just as long, lengthy frail arms that grew like willow branches from his shoulders with dainty but large hands and fingers that reminded him of spider legs as they moved and were just as dark as his feet. They were probably as soft as that little fluff of feathers that peeked out on his chest.

Looking at his face, he was slightly taken aback at the sight of not one but two pairs of eyes peering back, although the second pair were smaller and placed higher on his forehead, just as wide and bright as Via's, but instead of pink they shone with crimson and were as opaque as a ruby. It was obvious who this little girl got her looks from the most; the same dark spot at the tip of his beak, and the same shade of grey blue feathers, only his grew darker in hue as they climbed up his very lean throat, combed into a neat and very trim style that clearly was given a lot of attention. The only blemish to it would be the bold streak of grey that cut through the feathers which easily gave away his age, but somehow that had actually improved his looks as it contrasted the young (and pretty) features of his face.

His outfit wasn’t too extraordinary but still, Blitzø felt himself growing warm at the sight of the white button up dress shirt and the open cranberry pink waistcoat the owl was currently snapping shut dexterously and simple dark slacks that hugged his legs perfectly.

Fuck. I was once woken up with V wearing lingerie that was made pretty much just string but this guy is dressed like a fucking waiter and I wanna lay him flat on the counter.

Blitzø was suddenly that much more thankful for the blanket covering his lap, because he was sure feeling the telltale signs of a growing boner.

Oh well, he was sure it would go away once this guy started to whine about having to deal with a drunken piece of shit first thing in the morning -

The tall owl, even with the slightest of sleep still clinging to it, smiled warmly and brightly at his daughter. “Good morning, my Owlette.” Blitzø felt himself once again be knocked off guard by his chocolaty, silky tenor voice, the sound of it sending pleasant shivers down his spine.

Fuckhim three times, he sounded hot too. Satan, this sucked.

The owl’s pleasant chuckle only added to Blitzø;s horny chagrin. “I see you beat me down to the cafe’ today. I hope you slept well, my Starfire.”

The little “Starfire” nodded happily. “I slept good, Daddy! And so did our guest!” She gestured innocently at the imp, who then tensed at being put on the spot by a kid. “When I came down to check on him, he was snoozing like a kitten!”

Blitzø, of course, made a face. A kitten?

It went unnoticed by the little owl, but not by her father who gave her a stern, but still soft look. “Via,” He started. “You didn’t disturb our guest while he was sleeping, did you?”

“Via” quickly shook her head, he feathers swinging side to side in a flurry. “Mh-mm! No, Daddy, I promise I didn’t! I was real quiet until he woke up and said the bad thing wrong.”

He blinked at her. “The ‘bad’ word?”

“One of the words that Mummy used to -” He explanation was abruptly cut off by her father’s wincing and his hands waving the universal sign for stop. “O-oh, alright, alright, sweetie, I understand, no need to go further!”

Blitzø watched them quietly.

Huh. So pretty boy had post-marital troubles with the little former wifey, huh?

Yeah, that made sense. Aside from his friend’s, Blitzø had yet to see any marriage that wasn’t one step away to instating the “death do us part” vow.

This guy must have gotten out while the getting was still good. But not without a few licks dealt, judging by the signs of wariness on his face.

He mentally sighed. Alright the hottie daddy knows you’re here and first impression has clearly gone to shit so, get ready for take two, dumbass.

Blitzø, deciding that jokes was the way to go in a pinch, then said casually. “I guess ‘Mummy’ wasn’t a ‘fudge’ kinda girl.” He then put on his best smile as he looked straight on at the pretty owl. “Me, personally, always liked the mine with plenty of nuts.”

As smooth as it sounded, he still cringed on the inside. Oof, Blitzø, how lame do you sound right now?

However, to Blitzø’s surprise and relief, the innuendo did not go unnoticed by the only other adult in the cafe’. Both sets of eyes went wide and the haggardness on his face was instantly washed away with a swift, prominent pink flush that Blitzø definitely liked seeing. Next to Via, it was probably the cutest thing he saw this morning. It certainly took the edge off the ass-chewing he was sure to get.

Usually, anytime he cracked any sex jokes around others, he was almost immediately told off by whatever prude or asshole or Karen was in the vicinity (i.e. Moxxie) and who clearly had no sense of good humor. (Like they didn’t start humping on each other’s earlobes the second every one’s back was turned like the hypocrites they were.)

Anybody else who didn’t was either not giving two shits or just as eager to talk dirty after a line up of shots.

But this bird seem reasonably sober. But then again, judging by his frame, he was probably the type of demon to go for light drinks like martinis or cocktails rather than tequila or beezlejuice. Considering the little girl now running up to him and hugging his shins, it was more than likely. He had the bitter experience of always dealing with a parent more often found nursing a hangover rather than an infant and it was an all around shitty experience he had no wish to repeat.

However, right now, he wouldn’t mind getting another peek of that cute ass blush as the bird briefly ducked down to scoop up into his arms. “W-well,” He started, “It’s certainly good to see you awake, Mister . . . ?”

“Name’s Blitzø. The “O” is silent.” Blitzø stated without missing a beat.

The owl blinked. “What ‘o’?”

“Exactly.” Blitzø nodded without thinking and once again, groaned in pain as everything from the neck up throbbed.

“Oh dear, hangover not quite remedied yet?”

Blitzø hissed out a breath. “Yeah, that’s a big fat fff-fudgin’ no.” He smirked weakly at Via’s approving nod. “I feel like I decided to go dumpster-diving outside the nearest Sinnabon’s for a midnight snack-run.” His empty stomach than made itself known by giving an impatient grumble. “And it looks like I’m up for round two so I think it’s about time I get outta here.”

The owl blinked again. “I’m sorry?”

Blitzø carefully climbed out of his improvised bed and unsure of what to do, opted to take apart the bedding and fold it as neatly as he could. “Yeah, I know, I know, I should’ve been out of here hours ago, I get it. Satan knows no-one wants to deal with a hungover dumb-a first thing in the morning. I know I wouldn’t, plus you gotta kid here and I can’t imagine you want some strange weirdo around your baby-girl so I better clear out before -”

The quilt literally rising out of his hands cut him off like a record scratch. The fuck-?

He watched cow-eyed as some kind of blue sparkly whatsit energy surrounded the quilt and untangled the lump he had been making a mess out of. It than began folding itself in a much more professional fashion than his was and as soon as it finished, it levitated right over his head and towards the guys who, judging by the ethereal sheen wrapped around his talons, was making it.

“Mr. Blitzø,” He started calmly. “As the owner of a cafe’, I have often had ‘strange weirdos’ coming in and going out from here every day. Thankfully, most of them are courteous enough to show up around working hours, but I am no stranger to any who who wander in from the late-night crowd, which I’m assuming is where you come from.” His tone wasn’t accusing but Blitzø still frowned at the teasing lilt he definitely heard.

“As for my little Starfire,” The bird continued, nuzzling his daughter on the cheek which earned a giggle. “Via, I like to think at least, is an excellent judge of character, especially more so with strangers. So, if she thinks that you’re trustworthy then that’s more than enough reason to let you stay.” With a twirl of his talon, he sent the quilt through the door leading upstairs to, whatever the fuck it led to as he set Via down on one of the stools after a quick, dramatic spin that earned him another giggle. “At least, long enough for us to feed you a decent breakfast.”

That last bit was definitely NOT what Blitzø thought he’d hear. “Uh, excuse me?”

“Oh certainly, after you’ve been given food of actual substance to eat instead of the leftover, surely bacteria-ridden remains scrounged from a random dumpster.” The big bastard responded blithely as he made his way around the counter, to where Blitzø finally noticed the fancy-looking coffeemaker that made him feel more broke-ass than he already was. “But first, I believe refreshments are in order. Would you prefer coffee or tea?”

The asshole part of him wanted to deliver a pissy comeback at the offer. He was a grown-ass man, more than capable of getting his own food, fuck you very much and no trust-fund, (sexy) long-legged prick had the right to tell him what was okay for him to eat or not – Moxxie already got his ass enough about that, he didn’t need anyone else doing that shit.

Big bitch was probably trying to keep him here long enough to call the cops on him the minute his back was turned so he could stick him with some BS robbery charges just for shits and giggles. Which had happened to him before due to more than one nut-job Karen and/or Kevin.

And of course, since it was fucking Hell, there was only a certain amount of times that you could get arrested and get bailed out before the taxpayers think to simply say “Fuck it” and just take your money and never bother to find your cell keys.

That in mind, he was so not in the mood to bust out of prison again, that one stint in Greed was enough for the next five years.

Well, fuck this bird. The front door was right there and he was not gonna have to put up with whatever bullshit this guy was -

His stomach halted his would-be flipping-the-bird-at-the-bird-on-the-way-out escape with a rumble even louder and more impatient than before. The tell-tale smell of brewing coffee didn’t do anything to help quell it. And damn, did it smell good . . .

. . . . . . Oh, forget it, they dump that dumpster every other day and he was too hungover to spare the effort to drive. Or Look for his van. Or try to remember the name of the club he was at.

“. . . I usually have iced coffee. But right now, I’ll take a regular coffee, as black as blood.”

That request was responded to with a humored smile. “I myself usually take it black as sin, but I’m always up for a challenge.” Turning to the way too complicated than should be normal looking, coffee-making monstrosity, he also added, “Also, forgive me.”

“For what?” Blitzø asked as he came closer to the bar. This close, he could now spot a simplistic yet obviously custom-designed hotplate big enough to fit enough food for five people, flat black surface on one side and a classic stove-top on the other.

“For not introducing myself properly earlier.” A clean, see-through glass coffee pot that Blitzø didn’t even see him pull out appeared in his hand as he whipped out a coffee filter so finely made it looked more like a hankie, bypassing the coffee maker completely. “I’m Stolas, owner of this cafe’ as well as Chef and Barista. You’ve already had the pleasure of meeting my daughter, Octavia, my darling little helper.”

“Daddy says I’m his ‘Suzy Chef’!” Via, also now known as “Octavia”, chirped proudly. Before Blitzø took a seat on one of the stools, he moved as to help her up but she shook her head. Gripping the crank under the seat, she pulled it up and down like a desk chair’s until the seat was low enough for her to climb up. He watched in bemusement as she then adjusted the seat back up. Clearly, they were built with the varying heights of Hell’s diverse demographic in mind.

Not bad thinking, Blitzø had to admit.

“Indeed you are, my Owlette.” Stolas chuckled. Having placed the filter inside a clenex wrapped around a chic-looking coffee pot, he placed a silver carafe onto the stove-top side of the hotplate and flipping the switch. Taking out a bag of coffee grounds that smelled fucking fantastic. “She and I have been running this little cafe’ for about four months now. And if I may so, we’re doing rather well. Granted, we’re not millionaires but I’m certainly not complaining.”

In almost no time at all, the carafe’ started whistling sharply. Stolas took it off and replaced it with a small skillet that Blitzø didn’t see being pulled out either, only to stare unabashedly at the medley of cheeses, meats, veggies and eggs that literally flew in from the entry to what he guessed was the kitchen like it was something of out of a kid’s movie. He knew Via giggling at his face but he forgoed responding to that, as while Stolas attended to the coffee pot, a bottle of oil floated over to the skillet and poured a delicate amount inside with two slices of butter following suite. “. . . Uh, yeah, if you’re good at something, you should capitalize.”

“Perhaps, but it’s not really so much about the money as it is the business of cooking itself.” Stolas said earnestly as he dumped the grounds into the filter and sweeped up the carafe to pour in the hot water in one fluid motion. “I find that this line of work gives me much more gratification than that of my previous occupation.”

“Oh, what was that? Real estate spokesman? Attorney? Phone seee-” Blitzø was instantly reminded of Via’s presence as the little girl hummed happily while folding and unfolding a napkin she plucked from the napkin holder closest to them. “-eeecrecy operator?”

If Stolas noticed the near slip-up, he didn’t comment on it. “No, I’m afraid. Simply one of the cogs of the crumbling, over-heated machine that is known as Hell’s government.” While the skillet started to pop and sizzle, the owl than summoned a sizable knife to finely chop one onion to join the oil and butter. As the coffee grounds were left to bloom, Stolas made quite a show of crumbling up a thick sausage into bits with one hand while simultaneously conjuring an actual clutch of flames in the other hand, selecting a few strips of bacon to cook and crisp in a matter of seconds. Most likely to show off for Blitzø and his daughter who “oohed” at the sight.

Admittedly, Blitzø was a little impressed too, but he’d be fucked by a mime before he ever let on. “Geez, playin’ it up a bit, don’t ya think?”

“Perhaps a bit.” Stolas admitted, not so sorry in the slightest. “But compared to how stoic and quiet I had used to be, I relish any chance to ‘play it up’.” Having deemed the bacon thoroughly cooked, which it definitely was going by the smell, he extinguished the flames and set the crispy strips onto a cutting board for a magicked knife to chop up. Washing his hands in a small sink set by the hotplate, he gestured towards the enchanted parade of flying ingredients, allowing three eggs to gently land on the counter.

Blitzø, at this point, had taken his eyes away from the free magic show in front of him, cool as it was, to quietly observe Stolas’s shapely ass as he bent over to retrieve something from one of the lower cabinet.

Hmm. He could feel the tip of his tail flicking in appreciation. Guess the cake wasn’t only in good in the cases.

He tried to keep ogling as unnoticeable as possible as he asked. “Old job sucked that bad, huh?”

“Oh, abominably so.” Stolas groaned as he fished around in the cabinet obliviously. Eventually, he made a small sound of triumph as he located his prize; a small mixing bowl which he then set on the counter next to the eggs. A crooked finger brought a whisk right into his hand just as all three eggs were lifted and cracked into the bowl and the shells were tossed away. “And all I can say is that I’m bloody well glad that it’s behind me.”

“And now Daddy gets to be the bestest chef in all of Hell!” Via proclaimed, which was rewarded with a loving smile.

“Well, I certainly try my best.” He said cheerfully. He made sure to keep close attention to the carafe’ as it poured more water into the now ready coffee grounds as he beat the eggs thoroughly. As dark, fresh coffee began to drip into the pot, he set the bowl aside to neatly dish the sausage and bacon into the skillet. “I don’t know if anything I make will win any awards, but I wouldn’t mind if they didn’t. As long as I have my Via and this cafe’, I’ll be happy.”

Those words, despite himself, left a deep pit in Blitzø’s stomach.

He was all too familiar with the feeling to know that it wasn’t hunger.

And the cause of it was the warm translucent air wafting around in the little cafe’ that was more potent than the coffee.

And more pointedly, how out of place he felt to even be watching it.

He felt his claws clench the leather of his seat, the fabric creaking softly in response to his tightening grip. The pit felt like it was growing larger, making his shoulders tense. He found himself staring full-on at the clean surface of the bartop and tried to ignore the itch of his spines going erect. For the next few minutes, all that was heard was the sizzling and firecracker-like popping of the skillet as the eggs were poured in, the repetitive sound of coffee dripping and Via humming as she tried to fold her napkin into something other than a lopsided square.

Blitzø took a deep breath through his nose, his lips sputtering a bit like a horse’s (Didn’t he wish) as he exhaled.

“. . . Look, I’m . . . ” He paused a moment to think his words over carefully. The last thing he felt like doing right now was to sound an utter dickhead to the guy who was making him a hot meal for a total stranger.

No telling if he was the type to spit in on the plates of assholes who deserved it.

“. . . I’m sorry for, uhm, for having you make deal with me first thing in the morning.” He managed to get out rather lamely.

He wasn’t sure if the bird heard him. But that didn’t stop him from continuing. “I . . . I had a really, really real sh- crappy day yesterday, and – And I just needed to blow off a little steam.”

Images started to flash unbidden in his head. Of zeroes, of bottles, of bitter looks and smashed frames only made everything in Blitzø had been able to blissfully ignore up until that moment, then chose to rear its ugly head making him let out a barely concealed grunt. “. . . Point is, I-I’m sorry for screwing up your day and -”

He was interrupted by a good-sized mug being set calmly before him. He started as the smell of the dark roast curling in soft puffs and into his nostrils, the scent heavenly and already mending the throb of his head – only to be taken aback at the feel of a large, plush-soft hand petting the space between his horns in a comforting rub.

It took every single inch of Blitzø not to either smack the hand away or bite it off on sheer impulse.

He looked up and instead of what he thought for damn sure was going to be a patronizing sneer, – Because how else would any prick look after patting an imp’s head like a puppy’s? - Stolas’s face was as soft and reassuring as the smile on his beak.

A smile filled with nothing but understanding and warmth.

Sweet Lucifer, when was the last tim anyone had smiled at him like that?

“No apologies are need here, Mister Blitzø.” Stolas said simply. No hint of bullshit. “Nothing’s been broken, nothing’s been ruined. So please, don’t worry. I’m not a demon so easily rattled. Especially by lovely surprises such as yourself.”

. . . . Blitzø blamed the warmth he felt tingling on his cheeks on the steam coming from the mug.

Stolas didn’t comment on it, but he was sure that he heard some not very subtle amusement in his voice as he turned back to his cooking. “Would you like for me to add some peppers to dish? They were freshly picked this morning and I’m sure that they’ll taste wonderfully with the eggs.”

“UH-” Blitzø grabbed the mug and pretended to study it to keep himself from doing anything else dumb. “Y-yeah, sure, whatever, go nuts. I’m good with whatever.”

“Marvelous! I’ll add some as soon as the eggs have cooked for a bit.” Stolas said cheerfully. Blitzø muttered a “yeah, whatever” to his back as the owl reached from some green and red peppers big enough for Via to hold in both of her hands. He then made a small hoot that Blitzø, even with how off-kilter he felt at the moment, found cute. “Oh, and let me know how the coffee is, please. I’m trying a new blend I finally managed to put together a few days ago and I’d love to hear your opinion.”

Blitzø blinked at that. “Wha-? You mean this isn’t instant?”

Stolas shook his head. “Oh no. I try my best to use fresh items whenever I cook. Not that I have anything against instant or frozen food, but, as a chef, I find it almost like cheating if I’m not as authentic for my customers. The last thing I want is to have our cafe’ be mistaken for another Twink Trip or Hexxan.”

Blitzø would have taken a shot at that remark. Namely how if you loaded up gas station coffee with a fuckton of sugar, cream, and booze, it didn’t matter about the quality ‘cause who would give that much of a damn about dirty bean water -

That is, had he not taken a sip out of his mug.

It took a moment of peering down at his “coffee” to think up a much more direct response. “. . . . This is the best damn cup of coffee I ever had.”

“Thank you!” Stolas accepted the compliment cheerily. I admit it took much longer to properly cultivate and grow the beans for it than I had originally anticipated. I mean, I already knew the process was intricate but it’s a whole other experience when you actually attempt it yourself.” Stolas gave a weak chuckle as he prodded at the eggs simmering in the skillet. “I’ve lost count of the amount of times I almost blew up my grinder or ruined my insides.”

Blitzø, taking a much larger sip of his coffee hummed appreciatively. “Yeah, bad coffee can f- trip you up.” He knew that to be true. He once had to get his stomach pumped from drinking brew made by some dumbshit in his RV. That experience wasn’t really as painful as the telling-off Moxxie gave him afterwards. Little bitch always had act like he was right.

He took another big gulp. “You did good, though. Five stars.”

It wasn’t blind praise. Blitzø never bullshitted how he felt about what he drank and ate, (Much to Moxxie’s, Fizz’s, his Sunday Barista or, really, anyone’s annoyance) and the coffee was no exception; heavy and crisp with a balanced pairing of earthy and floral notes, the acidity like berries that left plenty of room for flavor instead of just tang. And the aftertaste didn’t linger like secondhand smoke, it left gradually with a mellow sheen that he didn’t mind in the slightest. Even though he was more an iced coffee guy, this was a kind of coffee Blitzø could see himself drinking again. When he wasn’t hungover, that is.

“Well, I’m thrilled to hear that, Mister Blitzø. Thank you.” Stolas responded gratefully.

By now, he had placed a lid over the eggs to let them simmer which allowed him to focus on chopping up the peppers. The imp assumed that had all he had been cutting up before Stolas turned to delicately slide a plate baring an apple that had been sliced in a way that the core stood erect as a tower with the slices spread open like a flower bloom. Before he can ask how the hell he did that so fast, Via chirped happily before plucking one slice and biting into it with a thank you.

Blitzø found her delight over the piece of fruit adorable, which the baby owl took as an invitation to pluck another slice and offer it to him with a smile. Satan, could this kid get any cuter?

He took the offered slice with a cheeky grin. Only to quickly toss it in the air and catch it with his tongue like an iguana’s, adding a “Bleh!” just for laughs, for which he earned a round of giggles from Via. He had almost missed by being blindsided by the cinnamon and spice flavor that had been baked into it. It had to have been made that very morning if the warmth and freshness of the slice was anything to go by, allowing the fruit to melt orgasmically well into his taste-buds. Wow.

He and Via had had unanimously agreed to split the apple between them, with no objections from Stolas as he busied himself with divvying up the vegetables and summoning other ingredients from the kitchen to prepare accordingly. Via filled up most of the time with chattering on innocently about little things, how funny her dream was last night, how home-school was “five times better than private school as there were less big dummy poop-heads” - Blitzø almost choked on a slice while Stolas lightly admonished her about “language” - And how her daddy once made her the bestest cake ever in the in the whole wide world for her fifth birthday. Blitzø, for as sweet as he found her daughterly praise, had to swallow the gag when she started going on about the “tasty” mouse chunks Stolas had added.

Bird or no, eating mice for Blitzø was a flat out no.

A sudden, horrifying though than popped into his head. Was Stolas going to add mice to his food?

Like mouse sausage? Mice bacon? Rat peppers? Was that a thing?! Or was he just pulling a Moxxie and asking dumbass question?

. . . Probably just being a Moxxie.

His internal debate was cut short by something else being set before him. A damn good-looking something.

An omelet the size of Blitzø’s fist lay before him, hot and steaming and straight from the hot plate. Yellow as can be with spots of golden brown, there were no signs of tears of breakage, with a perfect fluffy layer peeking from the folds stuffed with meat, veggies and oozing cheeses. The artsy fucker had even gone the extra mile and draped the top of it with a thin sheet of mozzarella, some garnish and a couple slices of baby tomatoes. Talk about extra.

“There you are, this morning’s special - ‘Egg On Your Face’ Mega-Omelet, with all the fixings and extra cheese for those unwelcome aches and pains. If I’ve done my job right, it should fix you right up.”

“Like magic!” Via dded with a bright smile. Both men chuckled at her.

“Like magic, huh?” Blitzø smirked. Well, I’ll just have to see about that.

Sure, the eggs may have looked good, but Blitzø had learned all too well that food looking good and tasting good were two totally different things.

What looked like a pile of slop to the naked eye could taste just as good as a five morning star meal served Beelzebub herself. The same thing applied to a plate of fancy finger foods that cost the same as a house mortgage but tasted like cardboard in the end. And Blitzø certainly had more than enough exposure to lousy food like that, thank you and fuck you very much, with no wish to repeat it.

Which he hoped he wouldn’t with this monster-omelet before him.

Deciding not to put it off any longer, he picked up his fork and dug the prongs into the soft-cooked eggs, scooping up a decent-sized bite with plenty of pepper, meat and cheese. After a moment’s consideration, he also speared one of the baby tomato slices. He gave the loaded fork a few blows to cool it, because there was no way he was going to down a maybe-shitty breakfast with a burnt tongue.

He stuck the fork in his mouth -

And his mind was BLOWN.

If there was such a thing as a bit of paradise, than these eggs were the mother fucking proof in the pudding. Or omelet, in this case.

The eggs were cooked to perfection; nice and fluffy to where they melt on in his mouth like luscious chocolate from Lust’s first class bakeries. And the flavor was like a parade in his mouth, from the salty onions, the crisp tomato and the sweet peppers, the numerous flavors sucker-punched his sense of taste without overwhelming the presence of the eggs. The meat inside was spectacular too, the bacon was at the optimum point between chewy and crispy, and the sausage was deliciously flavorful and greasy. His kind of meat, with the right amount of salt and black pepper.

He could barely hold down the pleasurable moan, but did nothing to stop all the muscles in his body from going lax.

Man, fuck trying to go to heaven, the key to fucking Eden’s Gate was right in his head hole.

A bemused coo. “So I take it you like it?”

Blitzø taste-jizzed mind abruptly snapped back into focus. Stolas’s beak was curled into a big, smug-ass grin that made his own fault in to a frown. The owl simply looked at him expectant. Dammit, if the kid weren’t here, he would have gladly told the bird exactly where to shove that grin.

Instead, he gave a disgruntled growl. “Yea, it’s . . . okay.”

Most chefs would have promptly gotten offended by such a dry appraisal of their “masterpieces”, especially if it came from an “uncultured swine” such as him.

But once again, Stolas surprised him by delivering a pleased smile in lieu of a hissy fit. “Well, I’m glad you like it. Eat up now, or it’ll get cold.”

Blitzø chose not to shoot off a shitty comeback, despite being rankled by the “order”. He took out his bubbling frustrations out on his food, picking up the plate and bringing it close enough to begin shoveling the omelet into his mouth like a starving man.

The petty, spiteful gremlin that was roughly, meeeh, ninety percent of his overall personality hoped that such a messy personality hoped that such a messy display would earn at least, would earn a groan of disgust. Always did the trick when he wanted to annoy Moxxie.

However, much to Blitzø’s complete consternation, the owl just gave a small humored hoot and returned to the hotplate with a single crack or insult. Like he didn’t give two shits about his bad manners.

Blitzø internally growled. What an ASS.

. . . A pretty ass, but still.

“I’m glad you’re pleased by my cooking skills.” The big bastard (Yes, Blitzø was calling him that again, suck it.) said happily, busying by wiping down the skillet while beating a new batch of eggs and sliding two slices of bread into a small old-fashioned toaster. “I have to admit, my main specialty is baking and drinks, but I try my best to expand my range of cuisine when I can.”

Once the yolks and whites were thoroughly whipped, there were poured into the skillet and almost immediately they started to sizzle and bubble from the rewarmed metal. “Unfortunately, I can’t cook the kind of food necessary to run a full-fledged cafe’.”

Blitzø swallowed a sizable bite of egg and pepper before asking, “Can’t you just wiggle your fingers and hocus pocus a steak or something?”

Stolas shook his head. “Alas that’s more Lady Beelzebub’s forte than mine. Even my magic can only do so much. Now if this was a flower shop that would be another matter, but it is what it is.”

“I’m glad it isn’t.” Via piped up. “I love Daddy’s cafe’! And I love helping him cook!”

“And you do such a magnificent job, my Owlette.” Stolas’s praise was followed by a small plate of scrambled eggs encircled by toast cut into the shape of flowers and mice, covered in butter and jam. Via took it with a bright thanks, digging in right away with a sparkly pink fork also provided by Stolas. “But sadly, a cafe’ needs more than peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and milk to cater to wider clientele. Not that I’m downplaying your talent as a chef, darling.”

“I’s okay, Daddy.” Via said, crumbs dotted on her beak from biting into one of her toast flowers. “I know it’s only because I’m not big enough to use the stove yet.” Blitzø mirrored her smile as she beamed up at him. “Once I can do that, Daddy said I could make even better dishes just like him.”

“Indeed I will, Starfire.” Stolas affirmed. “But for now, I’ll have to settle for looking for another cook. Sadly though -” Stolas pulled a face. “- There hasn’t been one suitable enough to help me run things here.”

“Yeah, it’s hard running the show solo.” Blitzø agreed. “Sucks even more when you don’t have a good crew to back you up. Don’t know where I’d be with M&M.”

Stolas blinked. “Uhm, ‘M&M’?”

Via blinked too. “Like the candy?”

Blitzø snickered. “Nah, Moxxie and Millie, friends of mine and my emplo-” He cut himself off with a grimace. “Well. Who were supposed to be my employees.”

The sudden downtrodden shift that overcame the imp id not go unnoticed by Stolas. “‘Supposed to be?’ What does that -”

“Don’t ask.” Blitzø said curtly. After a second, he added a little less harshly. “I-I don’t really wanna get into it right now.”

Because if I do, I KNOW I’m just going to get pissed off and do something shitty all over again.

“. . . . Alright then.”

Blitzø could hear it clear as day that the bird bastard had more questions, and would more than likely prefer to bombard him with rapid-fire questions like Moxxie would when he wanted to be particularly annoying. But thank Satan, he looked put off enough to put him off.

Small blessings.

The next few minutes passed in silence. The lull of it broken only by the sounds of silverware hitting the plates as Blitzø and Via ate, the drip of coffee as more was brewed in the pot and the subdued sounds of crunching each time either a somewhat concerned Via offered Blitzø a bite of her toast or, returning the favor, when he offered her a bite of bacon or sausage – He learned quick that she didn’t like peppers so much so he did well to avoid giving her any filled-to-the-brim bites. He could only hoped that the reason she liked it wasn’t because the meat that was in it wasn’t made from rodent.

It probably was, though, because . . . Birds.

Eventually, Blitzø had cleaned his plate, a satisfying weight settling in his stomach, he let out a contented sigh, his headache feeling miles better than almost a half hour before. “Woo, that was good. A frickin’ plus.”

The owl’s smiled chased away some of the terseness from before. “Happy to hear it. It’s always good to get good reviews on new dishes.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet. Quick question, though.”

“Yes?”

Blitzø pointed at the now empty plate. “Level with me – Was there any mice in that? Because, I get it, you and Via are birds, but I kinda draw the line when it comes to eating plague-carrying little turds.”

Stolas tittered at that. “No, no, I assure you, no lovely vermin of any kind was served to you. Unfortunately, I’ve learned that mice are terrible cures for hangovers.”

“What’s a hangover?” Via asked in that no-filter, childishly clueless way that all little hellspawn did.

Stolas, in a perfectly natural response to such a question, was freeze awkwardly. “O-oh, well, erm-”

Blitzø supplied the answer. “It’s like a really bad stomach bug, but for grown-ups.” Giving the little owl a conspiratorial grin, he added in a fake whisper, “Basically, if you eat too much green stuff, your poop comes out greener than Mammon’s butt.”

Via burst into a peal of little girl laughter that definitely brought an easy diffusion to Stolas’s unease, even earning a couple of barely smothered hoots that were poorly hidden by his hand.

Huh. That was twist.

Usually the parents were scolding him at this point, the usual uptight bullshit spiel about “using such vulgar language in front of their innocent little babies, you demented little firetoad!”

Not that he gave a shit because he was a comic genius, fuckyou, Moxxie.

After a bit, both birds managed to quell their laughter enough for Stolas to gently urge Via to head upstairs and get ready for the day. She agreed without protest, stopping only to allow Blitzø to ruffle her headfeathers as he added, “Gotta look cute for the suckers!” That earned him an admonishing look from Stolas that was weakened by his approving smile.

A smile that only grew bigger when Via caught the imp completely off-guard with an unexpected hug, her tiny arms wrapping swiftly and tightly around his waist, almost sending him falling off his stool. Before he could recover, Via was already heading up the staircase, humming cheerfully all the way.

Stolas’s soft chuckle drew Blitzø out of his shock. “Via has certainly taken a liking to you quickly.”

“Uh, yeah, I-I guess.” Blitzø rubbed at the back of his neck. “Last time I got hugged like that, some piece of shit nicked my wallet to buy thirty Bruiser King gift cards.”

“Oh, that’s a pity.”

“Joke was on him, though, he got food poisoning with the first card he used.”

Stolas hummed approvingly as he poured them both a fresh cup of coffee. “Well, I suppose there is such a thing as karma.”

Blitzø barked out a laugh. “Ha! Yeah, and maybe there’s a God.” He accepted the refilled mug, along with the offered sugar and creamers, and dumped almost each one in like an alcoholic adding liqueur. “Uh, speakin’ of, what do I owe ya?”

Stolas, who had added his own preferred condiments to his coffee in much more moderate manner, paused in his blowing at the steam rising from his mug. “Pardon?”

“What do I owe ya? For the food and coffee.” After a moment, he also added with only a tiny wince of guilt. “And whatever else my drunk ass did to your place before I blacked out.”

By emotionally-traumatized principle, he wouldn’t have asked outright. Often times, being the victim of a classist system that shat on those on the bottom rung, he had been subjected to grossly padded bills and unexpected expenses issued by a good percentage of the “well-to-do” owners of “upstanding establishments” where he wound up spending half the night washing up dishes. Once he got fast enough, and only if neither the food nor the service was worth the lightening of his wallet. Blitzø didn’t hesitate to pull a dine and dash; making escapes either through the bathroom window, the vent, or once through riding one of those fancy dining carts into the kitchen and out the employee entrance that admittingly had been fun to ride . . .

. . . Right up until he learned too late that the entrance opened right up to a three-story staircase with no handrail.

Needless to say, that had been one shitty ride to the hospital, Moxxie lecturing him the whole damn eight miles.

After everything – And he meant everything – in his lower body healed, he opted to hold out on anymore dashing. At least until the little baby-dick whineypuss would get off his fucking back about paying.

That aside, he saw no reason to be the deadbeat bun right now. Not when Stolas had been nothing but polite towards him. Even though he certainly didn’t deserve such kindness . . .

He braced himself for the amount as he took a long sip of his sweetened coffee -

“Oh, you needn’t worry – You don’t owe me a sint.”

Blitzø sputtered into his mug, nearly choking on the brew as he processed the owl’s words. “*Cough* *Cough* *Hack* Blegh! Excuse me?”

“You don’t need to pay me.” Stolas restated. “Like I said, you’ve done nothing wrong. You’ve been nothing but civil, you are obviously sorry for any offense you think you’ve given – Not that you have, don’t make that face – And more importantly, Via likes you. So I see no reason to change you.”

Blitzø frowned at him. “You’re screwing with me.” He stated flatly.

“I assure you, I am not. Honestly, your praise over your breakfast was payment enough. In all honesty, you were doing me a favor.”

“Meaning?”

“I don’t get a chance to try out new recipes on new faces very often, so any new opinions are always appreciated.” Blitzø felt his face fault at the slow, awfully sensual smile the owl sent him. “Especially ones as sublime as yours.”

Blitzø forgoed looking him in the eye, each cerise eye of his hooded and looking at him like he was going to be the next dish for him to devour, choosing instead to chug down half the contents of his mug. Gulping audibly, he mumbled back, “Glad I was such a good guinea pig for you.”

“I prefer the term ‘freelanced taste-taster’, personally.” Stolas retorted politely.

“I don’t want your charity.” Blitzø bit at him.

“Nor am I giving it to you. Like I said, you did me a favor.”

“How do you know I’m not some thieving bastard taking adventure of goody-two-shoes shop owners like you?”

“I have measures set to prevent such an occurrence.”

“I’m an undercover health inspector and you just failed.”

“Now you’re just grasping, dear.”

Blitzø rubbed a hand over his face. “You can’t just -” He let out a frustrated breath. “Look, I get you’re an . . . Okay guy and you are obviously trying to set a good example for your kid. I get that, but I don’t want to be the lasting impression of what to expect when giving out freebies to poor drunken bitches like me. No one should have to deal with that without getting paid, -”

“Mister Blitzø.”

Stolas’s firm tone stopped him with the sharpness of a smacked ruler. His face was stern, but not completely harsh as he eyes were looking at him with a softness that pricked at his chest.

“You. Do. Not. Me. Anything. And when I say something like that, it’s because I mean it with all the sincerity that is implied. It is not just for the sake of looking good in front of Via and certainly not some sort of dastardly ruse to get you to lower your guard. You’ve apologized and you meant it, you’ve been kind towards my daughter and enjoyed my cooking without bias or sarcasm. That said, believe me when I tell that is something I care for much more than any check or bill.”

Stolas sipped at his coffee calmly, making no comment about the for certain mollified expression on his face. “So, please, no more apologies. They are appreciated, but to be honest, after twenty-two of them, it just feels repetitive.”

Blitzø gave him a look. “Sorry what now?”

“Mister Blitzø -”

“Nah, nah, what you just said, the fuck you mean I said sorry twenty-two times?”

Stolas’s beak dropped into a thin line, taking a moment to maybe think his words over before formulating a response, “When Via and I found you last night, you were in a . . . A great deal of distress.” He was clearly trying to more emphatic than judgmental. “You were greatly intoxicated and horridly incoherent. Once I was close enough, all I could hear was you saying sorry over and over.”

Blitzø could feel himself growing hot from the neck up in embarrassment. The apprehensive caution in Stolas’s voice was doing fuck all to help the crashing wave of shame following up like a speeding train.

He didn’t need Stolas to tell him what he was bawling like a baby over.

But, ever the bottom bitch for punishment, asked anyway. “. . . I say what for?”

Stolas then turned sheepish. “O-Oh well, uh-uhm, I don’t quite recall -”

“Bird, I don’t do any of that hee-haw Shit, it’s too early and I’m still hungover and all I’m gonna do is get pissed off now WHAT did I SAY?”

With two sets of eyes, it was easy to see that Blitzø was not going to give up on getting an answer. Stolas sighed softly.

“You made a great deal of apologies to a great deal of people. I didn’t catch every name but, erm, you had quite the list.” He sipped at his mug, stalling for only a minute before continuing.

“You apologized to a miss Mistly for dinging her car door while trying parallel park by a Wacdonald’s, a miss Queen for breaking smashing her one of a kind pirate ship in a bottle instead of the pinata by accident on her birthday, a miss Millie for chipping her favorite ax, a mister Moxxie for making him run all the way to Greed for a single battery for your TV remote, dropping his guitar fourteen times, borrowing his wallet, or more accurately, pinching his wallet to pay for Voxflix twice, a miss Barbie for stealing one of her skirts and ripping it whilst performing a split, I couldn’t really make out what exactly you were apologizing to a “Vee” and a “Fizz” for -”

“Okay!” Blitzø blurted out. “Okay! I get it! I get it! I was a hot mess, no more shit needed, I got it!” He cringed at the indignant crack in his voice. Christ, like he didn’t look enough like a pathetic shit already. He might as well plan to fake his own death again.

You know what they say, fifth time’s the charm.

“It wasn’t that bad.” Stolas’s weak attempt to reassure him only bounced off of the imp like a ping-pong ball. “It really wasn’t. Really, you should have seen me afterwards when I was binge-drinking.”

Blitzø scoffed. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you got real frisky from all those white wine spritzers.”

“Actually, I tended to lean more towards absinthe.” Stolas retorted, with no little bit of sass, taking a small bit of gratification from Blitzø’s surprised. “Of course, with how I was knocking back each bottle, you’d almost believe they were Purgerade drinks.”

Blitzø lifted his head from where he had been pressing it into the bartop. “Damn, how many we talkin’?”

“At least two to three on a good night, or whatever was close to that.”

The imp gave a low whistle. “”Fuck me, bird. I get shit-faced after half a bottle, how the fuck are you still standing?”

“At this point, stubbornness and sheer dumb luck, I believe.” Stolas quipped.

That startled enough mirth in Blitzø to actually make him laugh. “Join the club, pal.”

“I fear I cannot, as I have cut back my vigorous drinking to properly attend to Octavia. Leaving my former occupation did wonders for helping me cub the habit.”

“Bosses sucked that bad, huh?”

“Doubly so, considering it was a family business, sort to speak, although, I can assure they were family in name only.”

“Ugh. Preachin’ to the fuckin’ choir – there’s only so much shitty family a bitch could take in one day.”

“That, Mister Blitzø, I can wholeheartedly agree on.”

There were getting off-track. Blitzø bit his lip. “. . . I’m sorry for my shit.”

“For the final time, no more apologizes are necessary.”

He angled his head towards the staircase door. “I probably scared your kid.”

“Via has seen far worse, I assure you. Even when off your cups, you weren’t untoward her in any way, so you can save any of the claims of indecency that you’ve half-heartedly concocted in that crafty little mind of yours.”

“Just let me fuckin’ pay you.”

“I neither require nor want your money and I promise you, should you try to force any $ouls on me, I will promptly set it to aflame.”

“Lilith’s titties, you’re a stubborn bitch.”

“And you are an equally stubborn spendthrift.”

“Fuck you.”

“Not without dinner, if you please.”

Blitzø groaned. “God, we’re gonna keep talking in circles if you don’t just charge me and get it over with. I’m not fucking broke, I have the $ouls, just let me pay you.”

Stolas’s counter remark definitely caught Blitzø unawares. “It’s been a long time since anyone’s done something genuinely kind for you, hasn’t it?”

Blitzø’s hackles rose instantly at the “innocent” statement. “You trying to say something?”

Stolas merely sipped at his coffee. “Just an assessment.”

“Or you being a dickhead.”

“I made you a free breakfast for which I expect nothing in return. I am being absolutely forthright whereas you are choosing not to believe that I have no ulterior motives. Who, might I ask, is being the dickhead here?”

Oh, this smug bitch.

He had wanted to let loose a snarl that would make the owl falter in his not requested charity streak. He felt the urge already rising in his throat, ready to finally tell off this prick who was seriously starting to piss him off . . .

. . . But could only let out a low whine at the exhaustion of prolonging the one-sided argument, the fatigue of a bad night, getting totally smashed and crashing just as hard setting in. Being still half hungover sure as shit was not helping to keep the spark of pride burning.

If anything, Blitzø felt even more tired.

He wanted nothing more than to lay everything out, pay whatever the fucking bird deserved and drag his broke-back ass back home and lick his wounds from last night. And the only thing that was stopping him was getting through to this royally stubborn and feathery (Not to mention pretty soft-looking) bastard of a demon.

“Alright, look – I want to pay you back, but for some weird ass reason, you won’t let me.”

“I think we have perfectly established that.”

“So we got a problem.”

“Which could be solved by you accepting my putting your breakfast on the house.”

“And it should be clear as fuck that ain’t happening.”

“So I’ve gathered.”

Blitzø blew a breath of air out of his nose. “I’m not just being an asshole here – I don’t like owing people anything. I’ve been dipping in and out of debts for years, financial and personal. And just that fucking recently I finally managed to pay off a good chunk of them only to literally be screwed over again almost the same fucking day. So now I’m once again edging too damn close to bankruptcy for my liking.”

He gave the owl a flat look. “Meaning I can’t take any chances, such as freebies or random handouts, cuz Charity was just as easily turn into high-interest loans with zero time frames for return payments, unless you want to set up an installment plan that involves cutting out pounds of flesh ever week. Obviously, a guy like me can’t afford to look any more fucked up than he is with a chunk of anything missing.

“All that said, do you see what I’m gettin’ at?”

“. . . . I’m starting to.” Stolas said with a considerate look.

“Satisfaction eased through Blitzø’s frame. “Great. Glad we finally got that -”

“All the same, you needn’t pay me.”

And just like that it was gone.

He growled so sharply it would have destroyed eardrums had he done it inside of headphone speakers. “You fuckin’-”

“But since you won’t accept the gesture,” Stolas interrupted calmly. “How about just doing me a special favor?”

“‘Special favor’?” Blitzø blinked. “What kinda -”

A sound not unlike a light bulb dinged in his thank full-no-longer-as-sore cranium.

Oh.

Oh okay.

He gave a resigned sigh. “Hooookay, look, tootsie hootsie, if you just wanted a quick shag in the back all you had to do was ask. But I gotta warn ya, the place I’ve fucked in was a public bathroom that probably wasn’t cleaned in the last year or two, so I’ll probably need to wipe down the goods with something. Baby wipes would be good if got’em -”

“NO!” A spluttered hoot brought his attention back to Stolas, whose heart-shaped features had turned an almost violent shade of crimson in the span of half a minute. “No! No, no! Not that kind of favor, no! I mean I need your mouth!”

Blitzø gave him a deadpan look. “Yeah, I got that much, relax.”

“No! No! I mean -” Stolas let out a shaky warble before planting his face into his hands while muttering to himself in fit of bashfulness.

Blitzø just sipped at his coffee, waiting for him to spit whatever he wanted to say out. To his credit, he didn’t stare, knowing from his own share of verbal vomiting moments that doing that would just make his embarrassment worse.

Even though he no clue what the fuck he was suddenly so damn worked up about.

I mean, fuck, if I had a sint for each time I said the “wrong” things, I’d be raking in more money more green than Mammon.

A deep breath. “Forgive me, I’m doing this all wrong. I’m trying to offer you a deal. Something, I hope, will mutually beneficial to the both of us.”

The incredulous look on Blitzø’s face was quickly addressed. “Nothing vulgar or dramatic involved, you needn’t worry. Nothing of the sort.” He took another deep breath. “I would like for to come in again, and try my cooking.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Say what now?”

Stolas made a small noise of exasperation. “As I said, I’m still relatively new to running a business dealing with dining and catering and the like. I’m often pushed into having to spontaneously expand my range of techniques and specialties depending on my success. I know I’m capable, but I know that I can’t just rely on my own opinion and preferences alone. Even more so when I’m attempting new dishes. As such, I need an outside opinion.”

The imp blinked. “And yooouuu think that’s me?”

Stolas nodded. “Very much so.”

“Some fucking rando off the street who broke into your private property, was wasted out of his mind and could just as easily rob you blind despite these so-called ‘measures’ you said you have?”

“Not as ‘so-called’ as you say, but yes.”

“Rrrright.” Blitzø rolled his eyes. “Don’tcha have, I dunno other foodie friends, you can ask? Or maybe just wait for some famous food blogger critic douchebag to to come in and give you a rating?”

“None that would trust to be fair or take seriously, or assume my want for approval is really a want for cheap compliments – that I’m desperate enough to give someone license to either be obnoxiously petty or to deliver the best shallow review that procures them a not so low-key invitation to my bedroom.”

Blitzø grunted. “Asshats.”

“You should see how quickly they recoil as soon as they learn of Via.”

“Fuckin’ asshats.”

“Quite.” Stolas affirmed. “And to answer your other question, yes, I do have others whose say I do value, but I’ve heard relying on the biased does not help one’s credibility. I do appreciate the precious few whom I’m fortunate enough to have as friends, but I need a healthy dose of honesty from outside sources to provoke me to experiment and expand myself.”

“And you think that guy is me?” Blitzø repeated, gesturing to himself crudely.

“Of course.”

“Bullshit.”

“Good gracious, and you call me stubborn.”

“It’s not -” He let out a small snarl.

Seriously? He was still keeping this up? Enough was enough.

“Look, I get you’re trying to be nice, I get that. But, trust me, I’m the last fucking guy you want to be nice to let alone have around. Seriously, ask fucking anyone in hearing distance – I’m a right bastard on a good day and a pushy dickhead on a bad one, I’ve fucked up more people than I’ve actually helped and you would have more sense to shoot me rather than invite me over again. I mean, you gotta kid to think about, and -”

Blitzø shook his head. “And you don’t want me messin’ with your business. The one I tried starting flopped before I even got my feet off the ground. Pretty sure that speaks a fuckton for how helpful I can be towards you.”

He could barely ignore the burning sting of truth in that statement.

Saying all the shit that was a constant boiling inside him all out loud sucked.

It sucked balls.

He knew it was better than letting it all rot and fester like he let everything else – But it still sucked.

Fuck what his therapist said about it being being cathartic. He should quit that bitch.

It’s not like he would be able to pay them for much longer anyway.

Blitzø knew he was not the kind of person to be asked to come back. Even the scraps of friends he had managed to hang on to could barely wait for him to leave as soon as he said hello.

Moxxie was the leading example of proving him right. Even when Blitzø actually adhered to his demands of privacy and properly asking for invites to visit, (That Blitzø still found completely anal of him although he bit his lip) Moxxie was adamant to get him out the door before he could even get two fucks in.

Even Millie, Moxxie’s blast and a half of a wife, who was far more accommodating than her whore-back husband, drew the line when it came to his company being longer than necessary.

That was to say fucking nothing about his own flesh and blood.

Barbie Wire, his twin sister, his other half, would sooner see him six feet under before seeing him again.

Cash Buckzo, his father, never asked for him, never wanted him, and made it a point of telling him so straight to his face more than once.

His mother, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . She sure as fuck would have been better off without him.

And his exes? Those who he didn’t remember or couldn’t care to remember, those he never took a chance on because of him being too much of a pussy to try?”

Verosika? It was pretty fucking clear on how that went.

Fizz?

He was never wanted.

He was never missed.

He was never asked to come back.

Not for a visit.

Not for a drink.

Never just to hang and shoot the shit.

He was always tossed away as soon as necessary.

He was always left behind, pushed aside, shoved into the background.

Forgotten.

Dead for all those concerned.

Dead, except in the way he wanted when he was at the lowest he could be.

No one ever missed him.

No one ever wanted him back.

Nobody.

“. . . . I fuck things up more often than I get them right. There’s a pretty good chance if you get involved with me, shit’s gonna go sideways for you too.”

He wasn’t sure if he had muttered that part aloud or not. Not that he gave a shit.

He halfway expected to be asked to repeat himself.

Or maybe Stolas would curse him under his breath for being such a dramatic bitch.

Maybe he would finally cut the bullshit and be real about what the fuck that he really wanted from him.

However, all Blitzø got in response, was a soft touch at his wrist, soft as silk and just as gentle.

Along with two sets of big cerise rose eyes that crinkled gently at the corners as they held his gaze with calmness and sympathy.

And maybe something else, but that could’ve been that whiny, fractured part of himself making up what wasn’t actually there.

“I’ve taken far riskier gambles than trusting a stranger out of the blue, Mister Blitzø.” Stolas spoke in such a comforting voice. “And I have yet to lose from any of them. Perhaps it’s rather cocky to say so, but since my winning streak has yet to be broken, I think you’re a rather good bet to take a chance on.”

The tender smile, that was nothing short of dazzling, he gave Blitzø at the end such a declaration was a damn good seller.

Satan forbid this man ever works for Vox – cause with that smile, he could sell gas station keys like they were the keys to gates of Eden itself. I mean, if his touch alone could send sparks up my arm like he was doing right now. . .

Fuck him if he knew.

The hand causing such a feeling than gave two soft pats to his wrist before lifting away to grab the coffee pot once more, refilling Blitzø’s mug with still steaming java and the exact number of sugars and creams he had diluted it with before.

“So, how does coming in twice, three times a week sound? I usually close the cafe’ around seven since I try to get Octavia in bed by eight thirty on weeknights. If you like to come by over the weekend, I close around six thirty to seven o’clock depending on how busy I get. Except any catering orders or special events, I’m not fussy over whenever you come over. All I ask is that you let me know when you’re coming by in advance so I can have something ready for you. A day or two ahead would be just fine.”

Blitzø, this time, could not find in him to groan loudly in protest to the blatant hardheaded dismissal of the what seemed like hours long argument. The argument he bitterly realized that he couldn’t fight against.

That did nothing to stop him from throwing his head back and scowling at the annoying as shit clean ceiling tiles above them.

“. . . . . . . You really aren’t gonna give this up, are you?” He said after a while.

“I suppose I’m about as bull-headed as you are.”

Blitzø gave a chuffing laugh at that.

Well, fuck.

What was he supposed to do with that?

What could he do with that?

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Fuck it, if the worst happened, he could just disappear again, right?

Not likely Stolas would look for him just for a review, right?

. . . . Right.

“. . . . . . . . . . The peppers and onions were both sweet.”

Stolas blinked at him like the owl he was.

Heh. Cute.

“The omelet was good, but it was kinda over-sweetened; I don’t know what kinda onions you added but personally I would use a more subtle kind of onion to help round out the sweetness of the peppers.”

He let this sink in for a moment before continuing, “I remember seeing you add a green pepper so next time I would recommend using a shallot, maybe about half a tablespoon’s worth should be right. A regular tablespoon’s good too if you don’t use too much of the peppers.”

He sipped at his refreshed coffee. “I personally, like some spice in my eggs to help me wake up, so don’t be afraid to throw some in the mix in the future. Like oregano or basil. You don’t have to go crazy with the amount, though, - just about when you’re making the bowl and a few dashes of it on top when ya put it on the plate. It’ll pair well with the tomatoes and not distract you too much from the rest of the food.”

He took a breath. “Coffee’s good, strong enough to double as a chemical peel, everything any caffeine addict is looking for. The aftertaste doesn’t turn me off from drinking the rest and from how it feels going down I am a hundred and fifteen percent sure you’re a nit-pick bitch cuz I taste how finely you ground the beans without turning them to powder. It’s good ya didn’t because that shit’s only good foe about half hour before fighting to keep your eyes open by either shooting up some dope or knocking back enough 66-Hour-Energy drinks to give the Big B a heart attack.”

Shouldn’t he stop? Maybe he was saying too much. Stolas had asked for honesty and Blitzø was doing his best to deliver it with as little jackassery as possible.

Problem was, for Blitzø, jackassery was his default language, according to practically everyone and their fat mom’s. And, most of the time, he didn’t even realize how much he let slip out before he got a sharp crack across the face. Or a knee to the balls.

He chanced a look at Stolas. If he looked upset, he could take it all back. It wasn’t too late, he could still backtrack -

Tiny stars sparked in Stolas’s wide eyes. Small and bright and beautiful, looking every bit like the twinkling little lights his mom would tell stories to him and Barbie back in their childhood. After the circus ring was cleared of trash and the last Hellhorse was tucked in their stall. Back when, even thought hings weren’t easy, everything was okay.

Before everything suddenly wasn’t.

Stolas, upon noticing Blitzø looking at him, instantly grew more flustered in some odd cacophony of joy and mortification, his plumage fluffing up from the top of his crown to the little floof of feathers on his chest. His hands belated came up to smooth them back into place, unfortunately they did little to quell them along with the rosy blush that tinted his face plate into an eye-catching pink.

Damn, this bird was so cute it was unfair.

The anxious itch in his chest was put to ease right there and then.

This couldn’t actually work, could it?

. . . Could it?

. . . . . . Maybe. Just maybe.

Emboldened, Blitzø sent the owl a lazy smile that easily darkened the pink on his face, matching the warmth the imp felt on his own face. “The apple was like a fucking angel feather, so soft and tasty. You have got to show me how the ever-loving fuck you made it turning to to applesauce ‘cause that shit was better than fuckin’ crack.”

Stolas looked like he couldn’t decide whether to be elated or overwhelmed.

After an awkwardly long amount of time, he clearly had settled on elation. His upper set of eyes turned upward in little crescents as his beak returned the smile with a brightness that Blitzø felt proud of bring out.

“I’d be happy to, darling.”

To be continued . . .

ME: Hey all you sinners & saints! Who’s excited for HAZBIN HOTEL coming out this friday?!?!?!? (Or Thursday if you actually watch it at it’s appointed time) I know I am!

I am SO EXCITED AND DESPERATELY TRYING TO IGNORE THE FACT THIS STORY IS LITTERALLY GOING TO LOST IN HAZBIN HIGH THAT I KNOW IS COMING FOR THE PAST WEEK. AND THE WEEK AFTER THAT. And the week after that . . .

ANYWAYSO, here is the recipe for the Mega-Omelet, which let me tell, just reading the ingredients alone mad me feel full! Also, what do you do for your respective hangovers? Let me know in the comments!

I’ll have the next (& FINAL chapter of this installment) written and posted as soon as I can, so until then, eat hearty, everyone!

Oh, and enjoy your stay at the Hazbin Hotel . . .

78 notes · View notes

marcspectorstannie · 4 months

Text

۞◌I can't love you◌۞Marc Spector x reader

Summary: Marc has loved the reader for a while but is scared to tell you✶

Warnings: Slightly cursing,friends to lovers type best but not really lovers, some long paragraphs, mentions of "y/n" a couple of times

A/n:this isn't really proofread 😭written at 3am I'm tired I had a burst of inspiration

•◌•◌•◌•◌•◌•◌•◌•★•◌•◌•◌•◌•◌•◌•◌•

Marc has always had a thing for you. After being friends for a while he's slowly started to grow feelings for you. He's always pushed away those feelings of course, thinking he wasn't ready to be in a relationship like that, especially with his best friend. He never wants to destroy his bond with you so he keeps those feelings hidden and away from you. But sometimes they slip out after constant inducing.

You were both lounging in your apartment on the couch, enjoying the time with each other aside from his moon knight duties. You were looking at some movie that was on, unsure of what it really was. Suddenly you spew out a random question. "Hey Marc, you ever think about what'll happen with us in the future?" Marc turned his head to you and raised his eyebrows a little. "You know, like when we have our own lives and families and shit." He felt his heart drop a little when you mentioned families. He's thought about having a potential family with you in the future, maybe no kids but definitely you and him being together.

"Oh.. Um, yea actually. I've had a couple of thoughts like that." Marc said semi-casually "why, you got your eye on someone? " he tried to joke, pushing away his thoughts. You giggled and shoved his arm lightly. "Not exactlyyy.I was just wondering. You never talk about your future or anything like that. A little weird for you to look like that good and not have thousands of girls all over you." Marc's eyes shifted away from you and looked back at the television. He's had some girls hit on him once in a while sure but he was never interested. They weren't you. He chuckled a shook his head, "I've had my share of interactions...They just aren't my type."

"So what is your type, hm?" You questioned, changing your position on the couch to get closer to him. Marc felt his body get hot as you moved closer to him. He wanted to say 'you're my type, you always were' but of course, he kept that to himself in his head. "Well I don't think that's any of your business,now is it?" He said teasingly. You rolled you're eyes and threw your head on his shoulder. "Come onnn Marc, I know you have somebody you're crushing on. You have to." Marc was containing himself all he could from freaking out and just admitting his feelings on the spot. "You can tell me, I promise." You held up your pinkie and wrapped it around his quickly. You continued to pester him to say something, shaking his arm and pushing yourself against him.

Suddenly Marc jumped off the couch and ripped his hand away from yours. He walked away into the kitchen angrily with his hands in his hair. "The hell was that about? You ok, Marc?" You asked, cautiously getting up and following him. You found him standing in the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and pacing back and forth. "Marc if you wanted me to stop you could have just said it..." So many thoughts were racing in his head at the moment. He's about to admit everything and ruin the entire relationship he has with his only friend.

"Y/n you're my only friend, you know that right?" Marc asked, still pacing the kitchen. You nodded and watched him from afar. "I'm gonna fuck this up, dammit. " He mumbled. "Marc tell me what's going on! I'm so incredibly confused right now and I need you to sit down and start talking." You hear him sigh, watch him run his hand through his hair and sit down at the table. "Y/n,I don't.. I don't know how much longer I can keep just staying friends with you. It's too much on me to sit back and watch you live normally with no care and I have to live with totally different feelings." You felt your heart drop and heard a slight ringing in your ear, "What are you saying? Are you trying to break up our friendship, Marc?" "Friendship, yea" Marc scoffed and shifted his body in the chair "that's the problem. You want to keep this just a friendship but I can't live with that anymore!...I don't see you as a friend anymore, I haven't for a year now..." You sat back as you listened to him rant. He really didn't want to be friends with you anymore? After all these years? "Was in not a good enough friend for you? What more did you want me to do I don-" Marc got out of his chair quickly, cutting you off. He turned his back to you and faced the sink. "We can't just be friends, y/n,isn't it obvious! I'll always see you more than that and I'll just have to live with it.The person I have my eyes on was you! It's always been you." Marc slowly turned around to finally face your starstruck expression. "You're all I have, y/n, and I'm sorry I have to loose you over something that I can't control anymore."

You sat there speechless. It was all so much thrown at you in such little time to take it all in.You slowly got up and made your way over to Marc. You stood face to face with him, looking at his ruffled hair, red face and glossy eyes. "Marc... This is all so much I can't.. I can't give you a answer right now I'm so sorry... " He bit his tongue and looked away from you, nodding. "I understand, I'll let you have your time to think. Just, please know, that you are the best thing that's every happened to me. Friend or not I'll always be grateful for this bond we have." He shook his head and chucked dryly. "Unlike me to say that I know, finally having some sort of feelings and I mess it up. But I'll let you think." You gave a sad smile and cupped his cheeks in your hands "Marc..I wish I had a answer for you." He closed his eyes tightly and slowly removed your hands off him, shaking his head slowly. He'll miss your touch too much and will just fall deeper in the hole of love he dug himself thinking about you. "Tell me when you're ready. I know you, you'll be knocking at my door soon to ramble about something you saw on television or a new book you read in a few days." Marc walked over to the door, grabbed his jacket and opened the door.

"Promise me, if this messes up our friendship.. You'll at least smile at me on the street if I see you." He gave a small smile, holding up is pinkie for you, like you always did. You bit your lip and held your pinkie up in return from the kitchen, and watched Marc leave.

And just like that, you were left standing alone in the kitchen thinking, and Marc walking home wiping his tears and kicking anything in his path.

•◌•◌•◌•◌•◌•◌•◌•★•◌•◌•◌•◌•◌•◌•◌•

Pt 2? >:)

#marc spector #marvel #moon knight headcanon #moon knight #moon knight x reader #moon knight comics #marc spector headcanon #marc spector x y/n #marc spector x reader #marvel moon knight #moon knight fanfiction

66 notes · View notes

creedslove · 1 year

Text

STUDYING

Pedro Pascal x f!reader

A/N: I got the inspiration for this piece during my own spanish class this week, I was supposed to be paying attention but I was thinking of him and my upcoming test and got distracted. Also, it's worth to mention that reader studies Spanish in a language school that teaches adults foreign languages just like I do in real life (and I'm 26) which means there's NOTHING to do with highschool or underage reader at all. If this kind of school isn't a thing in your country then it's too bad, lol!

Summary: Pedro helps you study and get your Spanish essay done on time but you get distracted by your personal tutor at home

Warnings: fluff, sweet boyfriend Pedro and a tiny bit of smut towards the end

1.2k words

It was about your third or fourth sigh that caught Pedro's attention. He knew you were having your moment of studying and he always made sure to give you your space, so you could focus, do your tasks, spread all your pens and papers with endless notes across the table and finish everything on time.

However, this time he could tell by the times you ripped pages off your notebook and crumpled it things weren't going so smoothly. He'd borrowed one of your highlighters to highlight his lines in the new script he was engaging into, being comfortable in the living room when he heard you mumbling something about 'fucking that shit'

He frowned curiously as he knew you absolutely adored studying Spanish, you enjoyed it so much you often spent hours making cute and colorful vocabulary summaries you'd learned in class, and you were nerdy to the point of writing essays without the teacher requesting them, just for fun, writing about random topics you enjoyed.

And Pedro was also aware you didn't study Spanish because of him. You'd been studying it for at least a year before you two met, knowing it had to do with the possibility of getting a better position, or a new job, or a nice trip abroad or even understanding movies and series. As he knew, you loved studying languages and that was one of the things he loved about you. And also the fact he could practice it at home with you, enjoying the fact you very often got his internal jokes or pet names you called each other.

In reality, he knew he wasn't the reason why you started learning Spanish, but he knew he was the reason why you kept studying it and made sure to get good results. And he loved it.

One thing you really enjoyed about Pedro was that he never intruded in your business. He knew you were smart enough to learn it by yourself and only if you needed help he would offer some. You avoided asking him for help as much as you could, you just wanted to do things on your own and you also loved his proud face when you were able to carry full conversations on different topics or understand a whole movie without having to rely on subtitles. But that essay was driving you insane.

Your test was coming up and it made you nervous. For the first time, you began feeling the difficulties in the language as the grammar was becoming harder and harder and you didn't know what else you could do to memorize that. Your essay, or composición as your boyfriend would say, was stressing you out, as nothing seemed good enough, you've written better, hell, even Pedro had told you many times how good your writing was and he wouldn't lie to you, that's for sure. But yet, you weren't convinced and when you finished that piece of shit you called a text you were already exhausted.

You began collecting your pens and pencils and organizing them back into the case and cleaning up the table when Pedro walked towards you. He had a sweet smile on his face and gently stroked your cheek, his curious brown eyes scanned the place until they fell onto your work.

"¿Qué pasa mi amor?" He asked in his beautiful, sexy accent and pulled a chair, sitting next to you. "I know you can do everything, but if you want, I can help you" he offered gently, not really thinking you'd agree with it, but when you handed him your text he grabbed his reading glasses, those black ones you loved and that always distracted you. At that point, you didn't give one single shit about tests, grades or evaluations, you would love to climb his lap and ride your handsome boyfriend while he dirty talked in spanish into your ear until exhaustion.

You barely noticed him talking to you, you were too busy looking at him, his tight sweater looking great on him, his messy soft hair, the way he softly bit his lips unconsciously when he focused on reading and those damn glasses.

"Y/N? Princesa? Are you listening to me?" He raised his brow and stared at you, waiting for you to reply. You swallowed hard and looked at him, feeling your cheeks flushing as you were caught fantasizing about your boyfriend.

"Y-yeah, I am, sorry cariño, I was just thinking of the test" you lied and looked at what he was pointing out in the paper. Pedro had taken a red pen and circled some words, you had either misspelled those or just put them in the wrong place, but overall your text was pretty decent. He gently explained you what you got wrong and how you could fix it better, though he could also tell you weren't really caring about that at the moment and knowing his sweet little puta very well, he knew whatever was on your mind had nothing to do with tests or school.

"Are you having wet dreams about your Spanish teacher, Y/N?" He folded his arms and looked at you "because I can just tell your mind is miles away from your studies and by the way you are clenching your thighs together you are probably very wet now" he smirked and loved how red you got. You knew there was no way you could fight that and lying would be just stupid. You bit your lips and chuckled, placing your hand on his thigh "I would have these if they fired that annoying cunt and hired you instead, though I can't complain about my private tutor" you whispered and leaned into his body, kissing his exposed neck gently and before he had any other action, you got up and immediately sat on his lap, facing him and pecking his soft lips gently, feeling his facial hair tickling you. His hands immediately wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, at the same time you raised your ass lifting your skirt up and feeling the contact of his rough jeans against your thin panties, moving your hips slowly against his, the friction on your core sending shivers down your spine just as Pedro felt his pants tightening at how hard he got.

"I know you want to help me, but we both agree this isn't my best work, so I can even rewrite it later if you want, but now…" you kissed him deeper this time and you felt how Pedro bucked his hips against yours, looking for more touch, more exposure of your skin on his.

"Y/N… you're teasing me" he groaned and only got a smirk as a reply

"Lo que quiero decir és que podríamos hacer otras cosas ahora, papi… ¿Qué te parece?" You whispered against his ear knowing it drove him insane when you spoke with him like that.

Pedro pulled your panties to the side and ran his thumb up and down your hard clit, feeling how wet you were and nodded.

"Sí, pero si no te vayas bien and la prueba, voy a darte un castigo" he whispered back against your lips and slapped your ass hard, making you whimper and feel your cheek burn, as you definitely knew what kind of punishment he'd give you.

______

A/N: this is my first one shot after years of not writing. I hope it wasn't so bad and there might be a second part to it because I still have many Spanish tasks to carry out which means there might be more ideas, hopefully a little bit more smut this time. Also I posted it through the app and it somehow got worse when it comes to editing posts 🤌

Anyway, feedback = life

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal works #actor #hot actors #male actors #pedro pascal headcanons

260 notes · View notes

hairstevington · 1 year

Note

Hi! I would love to see the 1st Valentine’s Day prompt(a bouquet of their favourite flowers) for steddie! Specifically Eddie bringing Steve flowers(idk why but I’m a firm believer that Steve secretly loves getting gifted flowers lol!). If you do do this thank you so much!! <3333

Ahhhhhh yes LET’S GOOOO!!! Thanks for the request! (Ao3 link here!)

Word Count: 1.3K

Warnings: Some reeeeal fluffy shit, Eddie secretly pining over his best friend Steve, gay scheming, romance

A/N: This ended up being a bit more than just flowers, but hopefully it suffices! If anyone else is interested here is the prompt post, I also took inspiration from this cute lil post by @grandwretch :)

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Eddie always teased Steve about his romantic conquests. They frequently discussed best practices for him to woo women - including knowing their favorite color, their birthday, their favorite movie, etc. Eddie watched Steve date beautiful woman after beautiful woman, always putting in so much effort and getting so little back.

That's probably why Eddie started doing it.

"Should I get her the blue bracelet or the green one?" Steve would ask.

"I dunno man, what's her favorite color?"

"Blue. But her eyes are green."

"Get the blue. The two colors look good together anyway," Eddie answered as if he was somehow the person to ask about such things. He'd never really dated anyone, but he'd seen a lot of movies, and watched a lot of high school couples date each other.

"Thanks," Steve would say. He was always appreciative for the second opinion, even though the opinion was based on nothing.

"No problem," Eddie smiled. "Hey, what's your favorite color?"

Any time Steve asked for advice, Eddie would eventually turn it back on Steve. It was all part of his master plan, you see - he wanted to make Steve feel special on Valentine's Day. Not in a gay way, he told himself. Steve's my friend, it's not like that.

He tried to convince himself he was doing it platonically, or because it would be funny to see Steve all flustered, but deep down Eddie knew that it was far more than that.

But him and Steve were friends, and that's all they'd ever be, and he'd accepted that.

A week before Valentine's Day, there was a package on Steve's doorstep addressed to him. He wasn't expecting any mail, and the box was so haphazardly wrapped it was almost scary. Like, he was pretty sure he'd seen this exact set-up in a horror movie. Main character gets mysterious package that ends up ruining their life.

(It didn't end up ruining his life, but it sure as hell changed it)

Inside the box was a teddy bear - one of those real cutesie ones you find at a giftshop this time of year. Steve was confused, and wondered if it was even delivered to the right place - sure enough, there was a handwritten note that confirmed it. I call him Steve Bearington, it read. Steve smiled, but still had no idea who it was from. The girl that he'd gone on a few dates with could never have been responsible for the disastrous way the gift was wrapped. He shrugged. It must have been a secret admirer - he got those sometimes.

He told Eddie about it the next day, and Eddie pretended to act surprised. He didn't want to give his secret away, especially when he went so far as to ask some random person to write out the stupid note so that Steve wouldn't recognize his handwriting. He probably should have asked them to wrap it, too, but whatever. Steve was so happy about it, so Eddie continued with his plan.

Eddie learned that Steve liked sour candy over chocolate, so he got him some. Then he wrote him a poem - it wasn't, like, the greatest thing ever written, but Eddie did tend to have a way with words. He delivered the candy two days before Valentine's Day, and on the eve of the holiday he had one of his other friends discreetly stick the poem on Steve's front door and ding-dong-ditch while he and Eddie were hanging out, just to throw him off his game even more.

"Oh my god, they did it again," Steve said when he picked the poem from the door. "Who is this person?" Eddie appreciated that he said person, instead of woman.

"What does it say?" Eddie asked, biting his lip to keep from grinning. He watched as Steve read it to himself first, his brow furrowing.

"It's, uh," he said, folding it nicely and putting it in his pocket. "It's good."

Hell yeah it is, Eddie thought to himself.

Steve had a date on Valentine's Day - Eddie knew this, and it was to be expected anyway, since Steve almost always had a date on most days. He was leaving at 7, so Eddie showed up at 6.

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

Steve didn't have much more to do to get ready for the date - he was already having a good hair day, and he'd picked out an outfit that had done him well in the past. He just was still caught up on who wrote him that poem.

Nobody had written him a poem before, like ever. Steve hadn't ever attempted to write one for anyone else. He wasn't that good at analyzing them in English class, so he'd grown a bit tired of poetry as a whole.

But the one left on his front door sparked a new appreciation for it.

He was confused when the doorbell rang, because he wasn't expecting anybody. Then, he wondered if maybe, he'd find another poem out there.

Instead, he found Eddie. Well, actually, he found a person standing there with flowers covering their face, but the mane of curly brown hair surrounding the flowers gave him away.

They were daisies. Eddie was probably the only person in the world that knew Steve liked daisies, and it wasn't even something he'd explicitly said. He just knew he was drawn to them when he saw them, and he'd pointed them out a few times while he was with Eddie.

"Special Valentine's delivery for Harrington!" Eddie announced, letting himself in. Steve watched as he set them on the table, confident as always, a bright smile on his face. But Steve was mostly just confused.

"What...the hell?" Eddie's bravado faltered just a little bit.

"Hasn't anyone ever gotten you flowers before?" Eddie asked.

"No, but I've bought a lot of flowers before, and -"

"Tsk tsk tsk," Eddie interrupted. "My point exactly. You deserve flowers too, Steve."

"God, what's with all the gifts from people this week?" Steve whined, completely overwhelmed. "Between this and the secret admirer thing, I just -"

Steve's head was spinning, and he wasn't the most observant person, but he did have enough sense to notice the way Eddie winced at the mention of the secret admirer.

"Yeah, well," Eddie said, his tone softer than before. "Like I said, you deserve it."

There was a thick silence as Steve realized what was happening.

"Eddie..." he said, putting it all together. Eddie was the only one who would have known to get him any of that stuff. Steve openly told Eddie all kinds of things he never admitted to anyone else, because he didn't think Eddie was paying attention. He certainly didn't think Eddie had been filing it away to do this.

"I hope you have a good date tonight," Eddie said, suddenly feeling quite stupid about this whole thing. He turned to leave, but Steve stopped him.

"The poem - you wrote it?" Eddie nodded.

Steve thought about straight-up reciting it to Eddie in that moment, to prove to him just how much he liked it. He'd read it so many times it was burned into his brain, just as he wanted it to be.

Huh.

He wasn't expecting this from his best friend, but he was shocked at how weird it didn't feel. Finding out Eddie had been his secret admirer just made sense.

"Doesn't have to be a big deal," Eddie mumbled. "I just - I don't want this to - Like, I'm sorry if -"

"I gotta go cancel my plans with Deb," Steve said.

"What?"

"She'll live. Besides, it wouldn't be that cool of me to go out with someone when I'm thinking about someone else."

"What?" Eddie repeated. He really didn't expect to get this far. "What are you saying?"

Steve smiled - his brilliant, trademark smile that always made Eddie feel warm inside.

"Do you wanna be my Valentine, Munson?"

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

#ask #requests #st fanfic #stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie

276 notes · View notes

miaountainmama · 7 months

Text

silent

characters: tecchou, gn!reader contains: suicide mention but things turn out alright for both of you

wc: 1261

a/n: inspired by radiohead's exit music (for a film) and that one time during lockdown when i got really depressed and realized i understood why people kill themselves. was going through it

If there was one thing you did and did well, it was sing.

Tecchou was used to it by now— coming home at night to hear you blasting your favorites and singing along, whether it was to oldies like Frank Sinatra or some random ass TikTok sound you couldn’t get out of your head.

But the house had been worryingly silent as of recently, and Tecchou was starting to take notice.

He could sense the change in you, ever since you told him the meds weren’t quite working yet. You were singing less and less, and when you did sing along to something, it was something worryingly depressing, something with lyrics that scared the living shit out of him. He tried to ignore it, he really did. He told himself you were just venting your frustrations, that it was just words someone else had written down. Still, he could hear the melody replaying over and over again in his head, your haunting voice sending chills down his spine. If this is what your voice held in store for him, he didn’t want to hear it.

He didn’t want to hear you talk about killing yourself ever again, even in song.

There was a chill in the air tonight, and, while Tecchou normally welcomed the colder air, this time it bit to the bone. It was an unnatural kind of cold, the same kind of cold that reached into the night and froze anything, the same kind that ushered the living indiscriminately down the Styx. His footsteps quickened against the freezing concrete sidewalk— he would be glad to escape the bleak conditions. He turned the corner and welcomed the sight of the familiar house up the way, already eager to see you again.

He got about halfway up the driveway before he realized the lights weren’t on.

This wasn’t entirely uncommon. A lot of times you fell asleep early, or you just felt like chilling in the dark when you were alone. Today? It felt like a premonition. As excited as he was to get home, he now suddenly felt very, very hesitant to open the door.

He lingered for a little while longer on the doorstep, heart beating out of his chest for reasons he couldn’t quite discern. Perhaps he was overreacting. It was just the lights… this was normal, right?

Right.

He inserted the key into the lock and twisted, almost wincing as the creak of the door cut into the quiet air.

“…My love?” he called into the stillness, faltering as he stepped through the threshold and heard no response. You were always home at this hour, so why?

Tecchou moved further into the house, flipping the lights on and setting his hat down on the kitchen counter. He called out again, the festering dread in his stomach churning. No response. Maybe you were in the bedroom…?

As he approached the room, the first signs of life hit his ears— the sound of music! The dread began to fade, though he frowned in distaste as he realized what song was playing. It was the end of that accursed song you were always listening to about suicide. He sighed minutely, reaching out to enter the room so he could kiss you better and tell you to change the music.

The door swung inward, catching on an empty bottle of pills that spun and rolled away upon impact. The song, finally ended, began to replay, having been set on loop.

It took a second for Tecchou to realize exactly what that could mean. The moment it hit him, he immediately tore his widened eyes from the pill bottle, panic clawing through his veins, and strode in two strong steps towards the side of the bed, where your figure lay covered in blankets, tearing them aside and revealing where you lay curled in a ball, eyes closed.

Your eyes sprung open as the warmth was torn from you, cursing under your breath as you turned away from the wall to face Tecchou.

“What the hell—“ you began, ready to hiss at your boyfriend for interrupting your brooding, before you took in the expression on his face.

For the first time ever since you had met him, Tecchou looked terrified.

Your lips parted slightly in surprise, and you blinked at him stupidly for a moment, wondering what on earth had him so worked up. Then, he was on you, hands cupping your face, turning your wrists up towards him, checking every inch of you despite your sputtered protests, and you connected the dots. The empty pill bottle you had knocked over earlier and were too lazy to pick up. The depressing music. Your lack of response and limp body.

God, your boyfriend had thought you tried to kill yourself.

“Tecchou,” you managed, suddenly feeling extraordinarily guilty, and the feeling only increased as he looked up at you with worried amber eyes. “I’m fine. I just ran out of meds today. I need to pick new ones up tomorrow.”

He stared at you for a moment, you staring back, before he let out a shaky breath, scooping you up into his arms. You didn’t fight it, clinging tightly to him back, and you muttered out apologies, trying to soothe his anxieties.

“I… thought you had…” Tecchou spoke, and you shook your head from where it was buried in the crook of his neck. You vaguely took in the fact that his hands were slightly shaking around you.

“‘m sorry, Tecchou… I was just… really going through it today,” you managed meekly, one hand going up to thread through his hair. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He didn’t answer for a long while, just holding you, and you listened to his breath finally stabilize. You toyed with the ends of his locks as you waited for his hands to stop shaking, pressing a kiss to his jaw to reassure him further. Somewhere down the line the depressing song you had been listening to looped for the umpteenth time and you hastily turned it off, electing to sit with him in silence and not worry him further.

Eventually, he pulled back from you, an unusually serious glimmer in his eyes as he looked into yours.

“Promise me,” he said suddenly, and you shifted a little as the words sunk in, looking away. Promises were hard to keep in times like these.

“Promise me you’ll keep trying,” he modified his words, and you slowly nodded through your hesitation. This… this was something you could do.

“Okay,” you breathed, hands moving back to sit in your lap, where you fidgeted with them quietly. “I promise.” You reached up then, holding your hand out to him, and extended your pinky towards him. He looked down at it quizzically before glancing back up at you, and the most minute of smiles graced your features.

“I pinky swear,” you said solemnly, and he stared for a second before smiling slightly back, interlocking his finger with yours.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he warned, and you pulled him close again, resting in his arms with a newfound sense of satisfaction. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head in response, and you smiled a real, genuine smile, the first in what felt like days.

“Of course,” you replied, and nestled closer to him. He wrapped an arm around your waist, and you laid your head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat by your ear. You would do it. You would overcome this.

If not for you, then for him.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs #tecchou x reader #bsd tecchou #suehiro tecchou #bungou stray dogs tecchou #bsd x you

81 notes · View notes

herebecritters · 5 months

Note

I’m not very well-versed in Happy Tree Friends BUT if your trio of kooky sumerian gods were actually canon to the show, I’d push everyone away just for them, words can’t describe how even though I don’t know shit about the source, I love these three so badly! And the amount of detail and depth you go into them is so astounding and AUGHHHHH!! And quick question! What would they look like as humans? I gotta know!!

Holy cow! This was such a nice message to receive thank you!!! Don’t worry I got plenty of Idol Trio stuff planned and in the works! 💪😤

Basically htf is just…Cute critters being violently killed by random silly bouts of bad luck only to come back for the next episode. Think Looney Tunes but gorey ehehehehe

And lemme clarify, the three are not Sumerian, they are Mesozoic cave people (well technically burrow people but yknow what I mean) However, considering people didn’t exist back during the Cretaceous….and considering that ancient Mesopotamian/Sumerian/Assyrian civilization has the oldest historical records to go off of, it does provide a lot of inspiration for them. Specifically for First Civilization.

But I also pull a lot from the little bit we know about Neanderthal life as well as many various Paleolithic hunter/gatherer societies such as the Ohallo II site and the ancient Natufian settlements. These sources help especially for the Dino-Sore days era of their lives. But of course, there’s no WRITTEN records from these times so it makes it a bit difficult when it comes to research and understanding how these people really lived. You can only tell so much from stone tools and bones sadly.

Because of this, the trio has been inspired by a hodgepodge of a bunch of different ancient cultures, not just one. Not to mention the occasional fictional liberties I take with them. I mean it’s a cartoon after all. ;D

Shoot I rambled a lot ANYWAYS

the HILARIOUS thing about this message is that literally the day before I had gotten this in my inbox I actually DID do some human trio doodles while at dnd so I went ahead and finished one of ‘em up for you! :D

It’s been a little while since I’ve drawn humans so forgive me hehehe Again thank you for asking this humanifying them has been so much fun!!!!

#happy tree friends #htf #htf ocs #htf be brave #htf nergal #htf geshtu #htf dumuzi #htf idol trio #htf god trio #I’m actually currently a little obsessed with drawin em like this now oops #I forgot Nergals hat shhhh shhh

35 notes · View notes

a-girl-and-her-robo-dog · 4 months

Text

Pinned Post I guess

Hello people. I'm Juliana. I like picnics, cool rocks, and pokemon battles. I'm a champion ranked trainer. I moved to Paldea from Galar about a year ago. Chandelure is my partner, I've had her since before I moved here.

That is an old photo. Ignore how terrible I look.

Any weird Pokemon you see with me are completely normal and totally not shady and/or special

Pokemon:

Crater Variant Cyclizar - Matrix

Chandelure - Freight

Quaquaval - Tuna

Crater Variant Donphan- (Miley) Cyrus

Tinkaton - Tinkerbell

Tsareena - Audrey (II)

Gengar - Krueger

I also have Noodle who is a rare species thought to have gone extinct called Chien-Pao. I do not use him in battle and do not research him.

OOC under Read More:

OOC: Hey! Mod Pluto here! (It/It's but you can use literally anything, idc)

[a bit of background: In this universe everything Area Zero was a cover-up. Paradox Pkmn are Variants, Turo went insane from exposure to Tera Energy, and Juliana Did. Not. Go. In. There. She'll usually make shit up on the spot if you ask so you'll get a lot of conflicting stories. She has trauma from Area Zero (The other Miraidon actually attacked them) but she won't really talk about it much. Just a warning for potential descriptions of violence. This is set before and during the DLC]

She might be a bit of an asshole. She's a bit inspired by the manga version (Scarlet) who is inspired by Wednesday Addams. Very loosely based on Scarlet. My Juliana is a middle ground between the silly happy-go-lucky she's supposed to be in the game and how she is in the manga. This is her, not me, being mean. If you are uncomfortable, feel free to leave.

Peliper Mail/Malice/Unmail: Yup

Musharna Mail/Malice: Yeppers

Sentient Pokemon: She might think you're joking but sure

Magic Anons: Nah, sorry

IN CHARACTER Anon Hate: Yup

Juliana is like 14-ish so no NSFW please.

I see the AZ gang as siblings so no shipping here.

Swearing is fine.

Please don't send random photos that have nothing to do with Pkmn in my Inbox.

Anything written like this is in her head

I have anxiety and think I'm funnier than I actually am so... yeah.

Couple other things: I accidentally made this my main blog so if you see me like something it's prolly not in character. Also, I reset this blog. Anything from before February 18 is not canon to this blog anymore.

Ooc blog: @comet-the-frog

I think that's it, Byeeee!

#pokemon #pokeblog rp #pokeblr #pokeblogging #rotomblr #rotumblr #pokemon rp #pokemon scarlet and violet

21 notes · View notes

harus-simp · 1 year

Text

Flourishing feelings

-Gyuvin x reader-

Warning:a little angsty but just for a second, overall really fluffy

Author's note: I haven't written anything for gyuvin yet, so I figured this concept would be really fitting for him. I love the different flower meanings so yeah that's my inspiration basically hehe

(I've also put some pictures so you can know which flower I'm talking about)

Hope y'all enjoy :))

°□°□°□°□°□°□°□°□°□°□°□°□°□°□°□°□

On his way back home gyuvin stops by a small flower shop whose worker might be one of the main reasons he comes back frequently.

Gyuvin hadn't been a guy to express his feelings throughout gifts at all, he tended to be more of a touchy person who enjoyed being around those who he liked and was comfortable around with. However, all that would change one day due to a simple and not organised visit.

After a tough week of exams and preparing for his next dance competition our guy here was coming back home as his dance instructor declared that day off due to all the hard work everyone had put into the choreography they were preparing.

He felt relieved to have a proper rest since he had been overworking himself a little bit. The warm and sunny weather made his way back way more pleasant and peaceful, birds chirping quietly, leaves falling softly and sun hitting his face gently.

He couldn't ask for a better day. He kept walking and walking humming softly until was almost reaching his house. That was until he noticed what seemed to be a...flower shop? He didn't recall to see one there.

But what really grabbed his attention was the person standing outside wearing a beautiful smile on its face and waving at everyone who passed by her with heart-warming words.

"Have a nice day sir!"

"Take care of yourself m'am!"

"Good luck with the exams kids!"

Wow a real angel fallen from heaven. He was so mesmerised he didn't notice how he had stopped completely in his tracks watching them.

As he watched how the figure was no longer into his sight he got out of his trance and like in a sort of frenzy his feet guided them into the shop.

As the bell ranged while he entered the door and saw the interior of the place you were with another customer, when you saw him you smiled warmly indicating him to wait for a bit.

After it you waved goodbye to the kind gentleman who was buying flower for his wife and approached him with that smile that enchanted him to go there in the first place.

"Hello there, what can I help you with?"

Oh shit! He hadn't thought that far.

"Umm- I was looking for some flowers for my mom"he made up at the last minute.

Yeah that sounded convincing,good job gyuvin 😌

"Oh what a great son"you giggled cutely making him stare at you hypnotised."Sure, is there something in particular you are looking for?"

"Oh, not really-umm-, I was hoping you could help me with that?"

The way he was tripping over his words felt so cute and adorable to you.

"Of course, follow me!"

He did as you said and followed you through the shop stoppinf once you did so.

"Well here I have some yellow tulips, the Victorians gave it the literal meaning of there's a sun in your smile, so they're the perfect flower to radiate happiness"

His mouth opened in awe as he heard the lovely reason for your recommendation of a gift.

"Or you could gift her this precious begonias, they are used to give as a thank you to a family member or a friend, they simbolize gratitude, singularity and at times caution"

"Oh wow, umm-I like both I think?"

"Would you like me to put both of them into a bouquet?"you said giggling softly at his confused state and right after it his lit up expression

"Yes please"

While you were at it he couldn't help but comment a few things.

"You seem to know a lot of things"

You figured out he was talking about the flowers so you answered him eagerly.

"Of course, I love to know the meaning of flowers, I think it'd much more special when someone gifts you something knowing of it instead of just picking a random one don't you think?"

He smiled at you shyly nodding softly in the process.

"Sorry, what's your name?"you asked him

He was startled for a second looking at you with a puzzled expression not expecting your question. He felt hopeful you had found interest in him as much as he had found interest in you.

"Gyuvin, Kim Gyuvin"

"Perfect, from gyuvin to...?"

He saw how you were signing a little card that was intended to be like a dedicatory making feel embarrassed.

"Umm-just 엄마(eomma) is fine"

You nodded and wrote what he told you, but you then grabbed a little card with the contact of the shop and wrote something else behind it.

"Well here you go gyuvin,I hope I can see you soon around here"

"Oh but I haven't payed yet-"

"I know, this one's on me, I hope your mom enjoys your little gift"you say winking at him

"Oh-thank-thank you"

His stuttering made your heart fuzzy and filled with giddiness.

"Could I at least get your name"

"It's y/n, l/n y/n"

As he got out with the bouquet he was not planning to get at all he was curious of the content of your business card, and as he flipped it he saw a number that didn't seem to be the same one as the one from the shop(yes it was your personal contact, how could you not give it to him)

Oh how nervous and happy he felt.

You eventually started talking and after some time you both grew closer to each other. He visited you almost every day and visited the shop once a week. He always used some excuse to go there like buying something for his mom, a friend's birthday, a gift to his dance instructor, but you caught onto it quickly. I mean he kinda said that his friend yujin's birthday was on two different days (but could you blame him?)

After hanging out for a while your conception about him changed completely from this shy and adorable guy to a much more extroverted and teasing person. And you loved (him) it.

...

Well you may have developed some sort of crush for him, he was so attentive and payed attention to your liking towards flowers. In fact the reason he came to visit you to the flower shop was so he could listen to you talking about all their meanings. It's true you could talk of it at any moment but gyuvin particularly liked it when you were on your work place, your comfort zone.

Speaking of feelings, guess who was so in love with you he couldn't stand it anymore? Of course it was him. Since your first encounter he had found you so beautiful and mesmerising, but getting to know you was a privilege he didn't want to share with anyone, so yeah he fell hard, really hard.

And he didn't even hide it, he was so obvious about it. His friends noticed it really easily, specially when he brought you to his dance competition to cheer for him and you gave him some hyacinths.

"These are known to express games, sport and fun, so they're perfect to give for rooting for someone"

"Oh, then I must win at all costs,hehe"

All the smiles and the heart eyes he was giving kinda gave it away that he was head over hills for you to his friends,and even his dance instructor! However he kept pushing it away and denying it in spite of how obvious he was.

The reality was that he was too shy and scared to confess and get rejected by his crush, specially after he had such a comfortable and special relationship with you.

When he finally accepted his feelings and his friends encouraged him to confess he felt like he had a chance with you so he was preparing to confess.

As he remembered you loved gifts that had meanings behind them, he decided to keep that in mind.

As he went to your shop he stepped confidently inside after making some research about flowers.

"Hey y/n"

"Hey gyu, what can I help you with today?"you asked

"Well I was actually planning on taking a bouquet of gardenias please"

"Oh, does someone have a crush?"you asked teasingly

"Yes"

"Oh, who's the lucky one?"

"Well, there's this friend I've known for years so I now have collected the courage to do so"

"Oh, I see"you said with some disappointment present in your face.

He noticed your furrowed eyebrows and your sad tone,and was about to ask you what was the cause of it until you interrupted him.

"Hope you get accepted, good luck gyuvin, this one's on me" you said faking a smile

"No-no, I'm not letting you do that"

"Of course you are, now go for it" you told him as you gave him the bouquet and got him out of the shop.

When you were returning home you felt horribly sad and hopeless, just when you thought you could have an opportunity with him you were left there heartbroken and hurted. You couldn't imagine him with someone else.

Once you got to your door you noticed a bouquet of gardenias with a small note attached to it.

~I know I told you I had a crush on another person, but that was just a lie so you didn't suspect anything. I actually love you y/n, hope you can accept my feelings <3-gyuvin~

You couldn't believe your eyes, he really liked you back! Almost crying out of desperation and happiness you picked the bouquet with a smile bringing it inside and texting gyuvin.

-Took you long enough idiot, but I love you too. Take me on a date already will ya?🙄-

°◇°◇°◇°◇°◇°◇°◇°◇°◇°◇°◇°◇°◇°◇°◇°◇°

엄마-eom ma=mom

Gardenias= simbolize secret love/admirer and are a way to say :you're charming". Gifting them is a sweet and romantic gesture and a wonderful way to express your true feelings to someone.

#boys planet #boys planet drabbles #boys planet fanfics #boys planet reactions #boys planet headcanons #boys planet x reader #kim gyuvin #gyuvin #kpop

59 notes · View notes

munsonsreputation · 1 year

Note

#4 taylor x stranger things 🧣

Eddie Munson with You’re On Your Own Kid?

Maybe focused about the lyrics “Writing in my room

I play my songs in the parking lot” as soon as I heard those lyrics while first listening to midnights I thought of him immediately!

hi katya!!!!!

i love this request so much and i hope you like the take that i took on your request!! it's something different, but i thought this point of view made sense <3

thank you for this request and all the sweet comments...i means the world to me!!!! 🌎💫💘

Eddie hated getting emotional, or at least he used to especially when he was a little kid still living with his drunk off his ass dad. Living in that type of environment made it hard for him to express how he felt.

If he was angry, sad, disappointed, hurt, or even over the moon happy—he didn’t quite know what to make of those feelings and instead locked them away to avoid getting a drunken lecture or a smack across the cheek for being too emotional.

It wasn’t until Eddie moved in with his uncle Wayne that he learned how to cope with these emotions. How emotions were actually a good thing, and Wayne wanted to know how Eddie was feeling. That if there was anything he could do to make him feel better, he would do it in a heartbeat. That there was no such thing as being “too” emotional. That everything feeling good or bad meant something that it was important to talk to someone about it.

But of course, Wayne wasn’t always home. He worked his ass off to pay the bills and make rent, all while making sure his nephew continued school and had a fruitful future that could get him out of this town.

But he didn’t know that Eddie had his own ticket out and it was through something deeper that would touch the lives of many.

Songwriting had become a sort of therapy for the young boy. Most times it was just random sentences, almost like a diary entry that was written across the pages of his notebook. But those sentences later turned into lyrics, those of which would be carried by a guitar that Wayne gifted him for a birthday.

It started just as simple as it sounded. Writing in his room while strumming that guitar as he sang out the words until it became something to him. Like the words and tune had taken a life of its own and, for once in his life, Eddie felt proud of himself.

He felt even prouder to know that he kept songwriting and playing that guitar going for the last ten years. In high school, he founded his own band, others who also enjoyed writing and jamming out in empty parking lots just so people could hear them. It wasn’t until their senior that they got picked up by the bar that they played out of. Offering him and his band a weekend to play, letting his lyrics be heard by many more ears.

All of it seemed like a wild dream that he was chasing without ever having a map, but he was determined, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to quit anytime soon. He had one plan in mind: to keep making music, get the hell out of Hawkins, and bring his uncle with him.

So maybe the road wasn’t smooth. The journey wasn’t easy. But it all came down to one thing, and that was feeling. Feeling like he was where he was meant to be. Feeling like he belonged. Feeling like there was a world out there where he could be heard. Feeling like everything was going to fall into place one day.

And it felt like today was one of the days.

“I’m fuckin’ nervous as shit.” Eddie’s leg shook up and down as you giggled, clutching his hand in yours while he squeezed down on it.

“Just take a deep breath in babe.” You instructed him coolly.

Repeating the breathing exercises that he mimicked, trying to get ahold of his emotions right now. Not knowing if he could keep it together any longer. It all felt too surreal. He never thought he’d be sitting in this room with a bunch of people he looked up to growing up. That the people he listened to and inspired his own writing was coming up to him and congratulating him on an exciting debut album.

“Win or lose, you’ve had a great year kid.” Wayne spoke lowly, patting him on the back where he sat on the other side of him.

Wayne was right. Eddie had an amazing year as a solo artist and while it sucked having to watch his band, go after other dreams, you were more than proud of him for sticking around and making it through, fueled by his own determination and will to pursue this career.

You just knew that he was meant for this. That the second you heard that boy in the bar singing about sprinkler splashes and fireplace ashes that he was going to be something big. Eddie Munson was more than a pretty metal head, but surely one that had something to say and deserved to be heard—and you were just grateful that you could be along for the ride to see him grow and be loved around the world, just like you and Wayne loved him.

“And the winner for album of year goes to…”

Eddie closed his eyes, clutching your hand tighter and feeling the squeeze that Wayne was giving his shoulder in anticipation for the next words the announcers would peep.

“The Banished, Eddie Munson!”

A gasp left your lips, slinging your arms across his neck as you pulled him into a hug and the arena erupted in applauses and cheers. Wayne was busy celebrating to himself, clapping his hands and hollering out the words, ��I knew! I knew it, son!”

“Holy shit! I love you,” He stammered in your ear, hugging you tight, feeling the happy tears you were weeping fall across his neck.

You sniffled, pulling away, as you grabbed his cheeks and stared at him lovingly, “I love you too! Now go get your award, rockstar!”

Eddie smiled, kissing you deeply before finally standing up. Reeling in the people who were on their feet for him as he walked through the aisle and up the velvet stairs where the presenters proudly handed him his award and gave him a hug.

“Wow….Jesus, I just need a second.” Eddie shook his head, looking out into the abyss of people that extended from the floor out into the stands where the flashing of cameras and cheers never ended.

“I just gotta say thank you to everyone who voted for me…” He paused, holding up his award and shoving it towards the camera, “and this would not be possible without the fans. Without my long-time friends, Corroded Coffin…this is for you guys. I wouldn’t be here without ya’ and I miss you guys every day.”

He paused, letting everyone clap before he continued, placing the trophy down onto the glass stand as he took a moment to breathe and try to collect everything he was feeling and put it into the right amount of words.

“For a long time, I thought I was just writing out of my ass to be honest with you,” He chucked, as did everyone else who laughed along, “but, uh, I’ve noticed that every song I’ve written has correlated to something I’m feeling in the moment…and when I was younger, when this whole dream started, it was about feeling alone.”

He shook his head, looking down as he could feel the tears springing to his eyes just thinking about how far he had come.

“But I’m thankful I found songwriting because it gave me that outlet to say anything—to be heard for once. And I just want to dedicate this award to my twelve-year-old self…”

Eddie Munson looked deeply into that camera, shooting that gaze towards the thousands in attendance and the millions watching from home in awe.

“Twelve-year-old me, I’ve got a message for ya,” He sniffled, smiling as the happy tears slipped down his cheeks, “Y-you made it! You’ve got your uncle! The love of your life! People who love your music!”

His voice cracked, as the cheers got louder and everyone at home watching from their couches seemed to get choked up as well.

“You’re not alone, kid!”

And that’s when Eddie Munson knew he made it. To see himself finally up on the stage that he once dreamed of being on with his girlfriend and his uncle clapping proudly because they knew it, too. All of those empty parking lots and dingy bars brought him here. The blood, sweat, and tears poured out into something good.

Something that would last and let the outcasts like Eddie know that they weren’t alone.

leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!!

taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @fckthtgetmoney @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24

#munsonsreputation #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson #eddie munson boyfriend #stranger things imagines #stranger things x reader #stranger things fluff #eddie munson x taylor swift

71 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

opalspring

🌼

marstheprinzess

mars ♡

hookedonyourlovexx

alhalbumaday

daily album

rxdscarf