#I was supposed to write something funny at first but actually I find it quite beautiful

[ulgapodatkowa]

I am 21 years old and when I am stressed my coping mechanism is going back to mlp fim horse yuri which is the same thing I was doing at 11 years old and I'll be probably still doing that at 61, still giggling over ponies in love

[vesppperoro]

Hey hey hey !! Hope your day has been great !!You should so write something for a Sinner reader !!! I had an idea for one.

Maybe a fem ! Cheshire cat like Sinner ? I imagine she died in the 1800s but her style resembles that of a goth. Instead or purples n pinks , I'd imagine she'd be a black and pink color !! They could be like Alastor !!

Maybe they'd also he like the actual Cheshire cat , but she can float and stuff too. If she had abilities relating to time , like Alice in Wonderland , that would be awesome. I imagine she'd be laid back as hell but full of sarcasm. Her grin also never leaves her face. Perhaps she also does the appearing and disappearing randomly thing too ! Especially the part where she disappears while her smile remains in place for a second or two until it too disappears.

If you could do this , that'd be awesome !! If not , ignore this. Thank you !!

Hazbin Hotel Cast with Cheshire Cat Sinner! Reader (fem)

Includes: Charlie, Vaggie, Angel, Husk, Niffty, Sir. Pentious, Cherri Bomb, Alastor.

A/N: The image below is what they attached to another ask. I went off of it :)

Charlie Morningstar

She LOVES you SO MUCH.

You’re a hostess for the hotel. She met you through Alastor.

Alastor summoned you because he owns your soul. What you sold your soul for, she doesn’t know. She didn’t push you for it.

But she loves your style. She always asks you for tips and sometimes steals your outfits (with your permission because stealing is wrong).

She always jumps whenever you randomly appear next to her, floating and smiling sinisterly.

She loves the deep conversations the both of you have. You tell her about some of the things you remember from her time and she writes it down. Human things were so strange.

Even though you’re owned by Alastor, you’re powerful as hell too.

Whenever the loan sharks attacked, you helped protect the hotel.

I imagine that you’d be able to grow in size as well.

Anyways. You two always chat about things. You’re her go to gossip person!

She loves your tail SO much. Whenever you’re floating around her, you lightly place it around her chest and she pets it.

Vaggie

She didn’t trust you at first. You were way too similar to that stupid radio demon.

You were always smiling, but your smile creeped her out more.

Your sudden appearing and disappearing creeped her out too.

She didn’t trust you for the first few months you were there.

Whenever you disappeared and your smile remained, it creeped her out to no ends.

She warmed up to you, however, when you protected them no matter what.

She likes taking naps with you.

You two also have many deep conversations. You two understand each other quite a bit.

Angel Dust

LOVED your vibe.

Still made lewd jokes about your cat things.

“Do you meow or purr when you cum?”

You did not answer that.

He flirts with you too, even if he isn’t actually attracted to you.

He plays with your tail often.

He loves how you float around!

He won’t admit it, but he loves when you pick him up and float around with him.

You two are best friends, actually.

He finds your chest fluff funny because he has some too.

“Is that supposed to cover your lack of tits?”

When he told you about Val, you almost lost your smile.

You protect him as much as you can.

He trusts you enough to vent to you. You appreciate his trust.

Husk

You’re both cats. You understand each other.

Also the fact you’re both owned by Alastor. You two don’t really like him, so you bond over that.

The deep conversations you both have has also strengthened your bond.

Drinking buddies!! You can hold your liquor better than he can.

You time hang out often as well. He finds you to be a break from the crazies in the hotel.

You two sometimes fly together. You float around him while he flies. You have to grab him sometimes.

You two probably sung a song together. Maybe your own version of Whatever It Takes.

You two have definitely pet each other. He purrs around you.

You two sometimes just chill in silence together.

Niffty

Same thought process as how she feels with Alastor.

She calls you a big bad girl.

She loves your style so much! She always climbs on you.

She pets you like a spoiled kitty.

She loves that you try to pounce on rodents, even if you’re twice their size.

Bug killing partners!!

You two share a BUNCH of dark ideas with one another.

You two have to be separated due to your shared love for chaos.

You treat her like a chaotic daughter.

She saw your true form once and she will never forget it.

She LOVED it SO MUCH.

She always asks if you can turn back into it, but you usually refuse.

Sometimes you float around with her in your arms. She adores it.

Sir. Pentious

You and him have a similar relationship as him and Alastor have.

You two were enemies at one point.

You always beat him, but he fought you a lot.

When he joined the hotel, you knew something was off.

You joined Vaggie and Angel Dust in It Starts With Sorry.

“Cant we just kill him? Shoot him and spill his blood?” You took a middle note in the alto key.

Past that, you two have had some better experiences.

He thinks you’re scary, but he doesn’t mind hanging out with you.

Your shared experiences of life brought you two together.

He probably developed a small crush on you before he fell in love with Cherri Bomb.

Cherri Bomb

Similar to you and Sir. Pentious, you were enemies.

However, you two became frenemies.

She thought you were badass and you thought she was too.

Two girl bosses fr.

You two have definitely fought others for territory before.

When she busted the wall of the hotel, you were overjoyed to see her.

You two probably still do drugs together.

She’s your gossip girl.

You, her, and Angel hang out very often together.

Their duo turned into a trio.

You still have a friendly rivalry with one another.

You two definitely had a song together.

Alastor

And finally, the man you sold your soul to.

You sold your soul when you were at your lowest point to this man. Little did you know it would be the biggest regret of your life.

You try to replicate him. The whole smile and hostess like thing.

He finds you charming.

Your shared loved for radio is what makes you two able to converse without him knocking you down a peg.

He teases you about your cat features, as he does with Husk.

He only had to show his authority to you once and it scared the shit out of you.

You cowered in the corner.

But you put that off.

When he randomly summoned you for whatever hotel work he wanted you for, you were originally pissed.

However, you two have gotten to know each other better through this.

Maybe your soul contract thing wasn’t too bad.

[ceilidho]

oh i just know bear latches onto the single pregnant woman working at the diner closest to his place, he sees her as a way of saving her from gods wrath if he married her and adopts her unborn child and he gets the family he always wanted with Lena (who idk she rubbed me the wrong way in the show, maybe its due to the shows inability to write woman but i digress) but like that god complex sort of mentality that has been building in him with the loss of his navy brothers, the divorce and the loss of his own child idk man youre the one with the amazing brain and ability for these concepts god i love your work sm its not funny.

oh you've got something insane cooking here........

divorce has been finalized, Lena's long moved out and maybe even left the state altogether (I'm not touching what actually happens in the last ep)......only his work is really keeping Bear upright at this point, otherwise he would've just gone on a year long bender. he still has his bad days though, weekends where he just disappears. passing out in the bushes outside his house, waking up with a kink in his neck and a headache that threatens to split his forehead open. spends his days questioning why God has allowed everything else in his life to fall apart, has allowed countless other people to die, but just won't kill him.

and then one day he stops at the diner for a quick meal before heading to the bar and notices the new waitress. pregnant, obviously so. not terribly far along, but noticeable. his first thought, the most immediate thing that jumps into his mind is what she's doing working at this crummy diner on a friday night. just his luck that he's seated in her section and remembers how to turn on the charm, smiles and asks for her name and peppers her with compliments and she just rolls her eyes and smiles bashfully like she's used to grumpy old men melting around her.

when he finds out that the guy that got her pregnant has long since skipped town, told her in no uncertain terms that he has no interest in becoming a father, Bear's eyes go cold and hard for a bit. after what he's been through, the thought of someone having everything that he's always desperately wanted handed to them on a silver platter and then...sending it back...has him feeling just a little off-kilter. not quite right. it doesn't last long and he apologizes when she seems unnerved, but the rage still sizzles under his fingertips. makes his hands shake, old nerve damage and anger problems.

but as he sits there, drinking his coffee and lingering, the hour slipping by into the next, it starts to come together in his mind. why he's been forced down this long road alone, why God hasn't struck him down yet despite every terrible thing he's done. he was supposed to be in this diner with this sweet girl and save her. make her an honest woman, give her baby a father. bring her into the lord's house and do for them what he couldn't do for his daughter and fallen brothers.

so he sips his coffee and waits for her to come back to his table. and plots.

[melodic-haze]

REQUEST: A reader much more powerful than Arlecchino and not doing anything about it.. except in bed.

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!Arlecchino x dom!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Mention of bloodplay at the very end but like. Very minor. Otherwise there's nothing 🤷‍♀️

☆ — NOTES: I'M NEVER TOUCHING MY DRAFTS WHEN I JUST WOKE UP EVER AGAIN I'M SO SORRY 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 this was kinda bad dawg am sorry 😞

☆ — PARTS: Part 1, Part 2 (you are here)

Tall AND powerful??? Ohhhh she's gonna die you KNOW I had to mix it hahaahahha powertrip goes CRAAAAZYYYYYY I have such a thing for it I'm gonna cry

Anyway ok so I would like to first state that extremely powerful chrs that don't actually do a lot w their power is like one of my top fav tropes it's so fucking funny 😭 like dawg you have the power to change the world wdym you're just gonna sit here like it's summer vacation (there's a reason why my Akivilicarnation au exists (even though I gotta work on it one way or another))

This is rather different from the stuff I usually write bc I usually write the reader as. Kinda weak for the sake of putting us all on a powerscale between the chr and our average strength as a human being omg bare with

Okay so. I do feel like she'd be a tad bit frustrated with you, at least at first. Like you could do so much more than what you're showing and yet here you are, not using your strength for important stuff? Lazy bitch, her children are much better than your example 💀 at least, that's her initial take, really

But give her a demonstration, both in a time of need and yk ☺️☺️☺️, and she'll soften up

Anyways it's just the fact that you're both tall AND powerful??? Nevermind her doing anything, she'll find herself dazedly thinking of the ways in which you can quite possibly manhandle her with such brazen 'disrespect'......and also? In the ways you two can actually COMPETE. Or well, 'compete', esp when she finds herself actually WANTING to lose for once. Crazy, how the great Knave would actually prefer to lose compared to the usual want to win against her opponent

You sighed, "I know we talked about it two days ago but do we have to? Really?"

"I would like to test you. Unless you would rather skip such pleasantries?"

"I don't think fighting until one of us surrenders counts as 'pleasantries'. Quite the opposite, actually."

While you've always known Arlecchino to constantly have a stony expression that doesn't usually change, you see the bright crosses of her eyes dim just a fraction, "So I suppose that's a no, then?"

"Well, now," you stepped back with an amused look on your face, getting into the fighting stance you're familiar with, "I didn't say that... Especially not when the reward is something I really want."

And she gains that glow once again as she brandishes her weapon with a fraction of a smile and.. something else much more heated behind those eyes of hers, "Do not get ahead of yourself, my beloved. The results have yet to be concluded."

..She speaks as if she hadn't actually wanted to lose. Laughable, really.

(You know from the way that at the end of it all, she lies underneath you as her eyes scan you with that same heated look in her eyes—lust, a sin in which The Knave hadn't thought of ever committing.. until you came along.)

The whole thing about her being able to reverse your positions? THROW THAT TO THE FUCKING WIND IN THIS SITUATION you can easily EASILY fold her without a care in the world. The fact that she KNOWS you can too gives her a rush she hasn't ever felt without that extra layer of threatened rage

Push her up against the wall, hold her up in the air, pin her down so she can't squirm away..........if you're much more powerful than her, she actually makes a show of 'trying' to escape you. Keyword: 'trying', especially when at the end of the day she resigned herself to losing already

She tells you not to hold anything back, no matter how cautious you are. She says she can handle it, that she isn't strong without reason, that she can endure whatever you give her, no matter what. Usually she kinda ends up forgetting anything she's said though, especially when you're fucking her SOOO hard she starts seeing stars behind her eyes

If your strength applies to endurance too??? Ohhh bye she's not lasting. Like okay she definitely has stamina and endurance but against you? SHE'S QUITE LITERALLY DWARFED....BYE.........

In some way, she actually likes the fact that you don't show your power other than in private with just the two of you—it makes her feel special, to know exactly what you're capable of. Dare I even say she's a tad bit possessive over every side of you? Who can say 😜

Just think that whenever she kinda stands beside you in public w her heels on, she's very very VERY easily reminded of the fact that you tower over her in height, capability AND position.......and really, in comparison to what everyone else may think? Arlecchino wouldn't have it any other way 🫶

....oh side note, just think about how rough you can go, biting each other to the point where you draw blood. Sorry I had to get that final bit out ANYWAY

[astarionxhappiness]

This is my first piece of writing in about five or so years, so thank you Astarion for giving me that fire again.

I did my best to find all the typos, but this was written on my phone at about 1 AM while half asleep, and autocorrect is a bitch, so bear with me.

Prompt: you have a bad past of sexual abuse, but catch feelings for Astarion.

Word Count: A little over 4,000 words

Warnings: mentions of sexual abuse if you squint a bit. Fluff. Lots of fluff.

The two of you had been traveling together for some time now. And while you had gotten of to a rocky start, you felt that you had grown a rather strong bond over the past months.

Though you supposed that facing constant and never ending threats, as well as having a tadpole connecting your very minds could do that to anyone.

Having to constantly put your life into another's hands like that. . All of your trust. And in turn, they offered you the same.

It had been years since you had felt such trust for a person. Such faith and warmth. And to a vampire spawn no less.

The thought made you smile to yourself with great amusement, biting your bottom lip absently and tugging.

Perhaps it wasn't even putting your trust in a vampire spawn. . Perhaps it felt funny to find yourself putting your trust in him.

"What's so funny?"

The words knocked you from your daze, bringing your attention back to the world around you.

The sound of the crackling fire, the uncomfortable log making your ass sore the longer you remained seated on it. The night air chilling your skin through the thin fabric of your tunic.

"Tav?" Astarion's voice sounded again, ever demanding. His tone made you look over at him quickly.

"You keep doing that today. . Are you falling ill or something?" You did not offer a response to this rhetorical question, knowing it was asked out of fussiness from being ignored, rather than genuine concern.

"I'm just thinking," you replied, glancing over at him again. "Nothing is funny."

You had had a hard time looking at him all day. You knew it had to do with the dream you had had the night before, though you were still having trouble admitting it to yourself.

The very memories of it made you feel flush.

"Oh?" He quirked a brow as he gazed at you from the corner of his eye, his head tilted back in a manner that showed off his jaw nicely.

"And what is it you're thinking about so intently then, hm? It must be something quite interesting to have you so distracted." The suggestive smile and knowing glint in his eye made you flush, looking away bashfully.

"Whatever you think it is, I can assure you it isn't that," you replied with vehemence, listening to him burst into musical laughter.

"Oh, it truly is so much fun to tease you, darling" he replied, tilting his head to look at you, a smile dancing on his lips that showed off his fangs.

"So what was it, then? If not the idea of me ravishing your body?" He had been making such jokes more and more for weeks now, but the immersion did nothing to stop your face from going red once more, forcing you to look away from him so he wouldn't see.

Not that it truly mattered. You knew he could tell exactly what your reaction was. Hence the reason he loved to make comments.

"Astarion, could I ask you something?" You found the nervous words leaving your mouth before you could stop them, making your body tense.

Your head remained bowed, gazing intently at your lap.

The smile fell from his lips, a look of uncertain curiosity taking place in his features instead.

"What's on your mind, darling?" He asked, making you wring your hands together.

"Do you. . Do you actually like being with people?" The question made him pause for just a moment before a smile cracked the far more real expression that had come before it.

A breathless laugh left his lips.

"Of course," he replied, unwilling to admit to the possibility that that was in fact a lie.

He felt the question was building to something more, and he was unwilling to make himself unavailable should you want him.

His eyes squinted slightly in curiosity when you offered little more than a nod of your head, wringing your hands together.

"So. . So you enjoy. . Being touched?" You glanced over at him, tensing harder when you found his inquisitive gaze already looking back at you.

"Why are you asking me these things my sweet?" He asked. "Is it perhaps. . Because you really would like for me to touch you?" He brought his hand out to very lightly cover your wrist, making your breath catch.

Silence grew thickly between the two if you as your response to the question remained stuck firmly in your throat.

You startled violently when footsteps sounded from off to your left, followed by Wyll's voice.

"Are you two coming to eat? Gale's just finished cooking. " He hesitated as he spoke, watching Astarion's hand slide subtly off your wrist.

"I am actually not feeling particularly well," you replied, flustered as you got to your feet. "Excuse me." They both watched you go, having similar expressions if uncertainty as Astarion stood up next to Wyll.

You remained in your tent for the remainder of the evening, listening to the others talking and laughing over warm food.

You shivered absently as you laid on your bedroll, the thick furs feeling less warm than usual. You hoped that it was simply the nights getting colder, but you had a feeling it was rather your thoughts giving the impression of warmth leaving your body.

You shut your eyes, your fingers tracing the palm of your other hand tucked by your face as you heard Astarion reciting one of his favorite stories to the others, undoubtedly keeping the company of a nice glass of wine.

The tips of your fingers traced down to your wrist where his hand had covered just a few hours before, your mind wandering back to the dream that had corrupted your thinking all day.

You had sworn off touch long ago. Your experience with it being only violent and cruel.

You did not want it.

A simple brush of the shoulder led to temptation of touching one's arm. Then, perhaps the urge to move in closer. Feel their breath against your skin, inhale their scent. .

These were temptations that people seemed incapable to control.

No! You wouldn't risk it! Not again! Not ever again.

You would not be used for another's pleasure.

And yet. . Astarion had touched you, had he not? Not just tonight, but other times as well. Whether it was catching you mid trip, protecting you in a fight . . even waking you from a nightmare or two. .

You took in a deep breath as these memories crossed your mind. The feel of his hands clutching your shoulders, his soothing, concerned voice as he tried to calm you down.

You had felt faint that night, waking with the air out of your lungs.

You had fallen against him, your hands shaking, weakly grasping at his arms as you tried not to faint. You could still feel the sensation of your temple resting against his broad chest. The feeling of his cool hand coming to rest on the side if your head.

He had never stopped talking while you worked through your panic attack. Plenty of it was not actually comforting, but the simple sound of his voice grounded you. And his touch made you feel drunk.

You had pushed those feelings away after that night. but after your dream, after the vivid sensation of his touch against your skin, his soft voice easing your tension. . You knew the sensation. It was too vivid not to have been spawned from a memory.

That feeling of safety. . Never had you expected to ever feel it in your life. .

You bit your lip as you curled in on yourself, wrapping an arm around your torso.

If your fears were right, and all touching always led to pain and violence, then why had Astarion never tried anything?

Even tonight, the touch had been. . Gentle. Hesitant, almost. Offering the option for you to pull away if you so pleased.

But you didn't. Something about it felt right. Like having a taste of water when you didn't realize just how thirsty you were.

Perhaps. . Just maybe, it was possible to find safety with him.

You trusted him with your life, after all.

And from things he had told you in the past, you got the feeling he would understand the fear you had of being taken advantage of more than anyone.

Your attention was grabbed by the sounds of everyone getting ready to head to bed, most likely due to the rain that had begun falling, making it's presence known to you by tapping rhythmically against your tent.

You bit your lip, feeling your stomach twisting at the resolve you made.

You would just ask him. What was the worst that could happen?-

You had to stop your brain from answering this question.

It took you a little under ten minutes to harden your resolve.

You kicked off the thick fur blanket, stuffed your feet in your unlaced boots, and headed for the vampire's tent across the camp from yours.

Except, by the time your feet stopped in front of his tent, your resolve had weakened once more, leaving you standing in the dark with rain slowly absorbing into the thin layers of your clothes.

You were already shaking with nerves by the time that thunder boomed in the sky so loudly it had you yelping in surprise, your mind having been far more preoccupied with other things than the lightning overhead. flinging yourself through the flap of fabric that covered the entrance of his tent, you froze as you laid eyes on the man laying in the dim lamp light.

Your entrance made Astarion look up with a start from the spot on his bed, his finger marking the page of his book he had been reading.

He looked confused by your odd entrance, though your meek posture and flushed skin made him smile at you. It rather made your head dizzy and your feet want to run.

"Hello, beautiful," he greeted, his tone ever seductive. "I figured I would be seeing you again tonight." He shut his book in a way that had you wondering how many times he had practiced the motion in order to get just the right amount of seduction out of it.

He was. . Everything that you were not in such moments.

Confident, charismatic, smooth and seductive. Experienced, and more or less functioning.

You looked down, hands clasped before you.

"I-i didn't mean to bother you," you whispered, finding yourself far more nervous than you normally were.

"I just. . I wanted to ask you. ." You shut your eyes as your cheeks went bright red.

He couldn't help but notice the soft tremor rattling your body. Your meek position was not one he often saw you possessing. Only in moments when you were truly terrified or nervous about something.

It was, much to his horror, rather.. endearing.

He had only seen you in such a state a spare few times, but when he did, he had the odd urge to handle whatever it was causing it.

And in this case, he felt certain that the thing causing you trouble, he could definitely take care of.

He stood up, moving over to you, making your heart beat quicken with nerves.

He had a way of looming that made you want to flee.

When you flinched back from him, suddenly rethinking if your request was such a good idea, you watched to your great surprise as he took a step back, frowning.

"Are you scared of me?" He asked with sudden realization.

The action had not been made out of anticipation, or longing. No. . People did not flinch like that unless they expected something unpleasant to happen.

You looked up at him with round, horrified eyes.

"No!" You replied quickly, your body trembling a bit harder.

"I- no, of course not, I just-" he turned his head to the right slightly as he continued to look at you, frowning as he brows furrowed.

"I just get- nervous, with people. . Touching me," you finally managed to get out, sounding royally ashamed.

You had survived an illithid tadpole swimming around in your skull, the crashing of a ship you you were on only because of being abducted, countless perilous fights, and even knocked the head off of one or two goblins without ever skipping a beat.

But this. Proximity to someone that had never once tried to murder you, or handle you in a way you didn't want to be handled. . This terrified you?

It was only then that he realized you had always avoided being touched by others. You had never shown interest in any form of romance, or even friendly pats on the shoulder by the others in your little party.

You had always managed to casually and seamlessly avoid such interactions.

"Why do you get nervous being touched?" He asked, though he had his suspicions. "I assure you, love, there is absolutely nothing to be afraid of." He offered his hand out to you, but made no further attempt at contact. Remaining a respectful distance from you.

You looked away, a part of you desperately wanting to reach out and grasp his hand, feel the sensation that you had found yourself desperate to for.

You did not, however. You remained rigidly shaking in place as you looked away.

"You. . You said that Cazador, . . That he made you do things you didn't want to do? With him? And. . Others? " You whispered nervously.

It had been a conversation you had had with him some weeks ago, out on a ledge relaxing beneath the stars while the others slept.

He frowned at the mention, dropping his hand when the offer was not accepted.

"Yes," he replied, seeming slightly more guarded. "Why?"

You tensed as another roar of thunder raged in the sky, your eyes shutting.

"Well- someone. . Someone did things to me. To hurt me, and- and use me-" you looked up at him, eyes round and nervous, a part of you expecting to be met with disgust.

The expression you were met with however, was one of a silent understanding. The defense in his gaze softened.

Though the bitterness remained, you felt certainty that it was not directed towards you.

"I see," he replied, his suspicions finally being confirmed.

"So why are you here, then?" He tilted his head back slightly. "Trying to rewrite the pain in your past?" He guessed. "Well, I'm okay with that. Happy to be of service, darling." He offered you a charming smile as his weight shifted to one hip, his hand coming up to hang loosely at the wrist.

"No, actually," you replied, watching the false happiness slip off his features. "I-. . I wanted to ask if. . You would want. . " you scrunched your face, looking tortured.

"I can read your thoughts if you'd rather not say it aloud," he offered when you fell silent.

You looked only more pained by this offer, but nodded mutely, opening your mind to him as the request was caught in your throat.

He shut his eyes was he felt the connection take hold, swimming in your thoughts to latch on to the question stuck in your mind.

"Do I want to cuddle?" He demanded in confusion, taking an affronted step back, letting out a breathless laugh as he looked at you.

You tensed, shaking just a little harder at his reaction, your stomach twisting in a manner that made you glad you had not eaten that evening.

"I-. . No one's ever asked me that before," he went on, the vehemence in his voice dissipating as he looked at you, features taking on more trouble attributes.

He looked at you quietly, your small form shivering, your clothes clinging to your body wetly, making him wonder how long you had been outside his tent, too scared to come in and ask for such an odd. . Innocent, request.

The strange part was, it. . Sounded rather pleasant.

You had never asked anything of him before. You offered loyalty to him and never asked for anything in return. Not even his own loyalty to you.

You had fought for him. Saved him. Cared for his wounds, and been there for him in moments when he felt he could open up.

"I-" he hesitated as you stayed silently staring at him, waiting for something bad to happen.

He did not need an tadpole to read the nervousness and fear in your mind.

"-i think I would rather like tjat," he found himself genuinely admitting.

He offered his hand again to you, his demeanor soft and delicate. The same demeanor he had offered when he held you when you couldn't catch a healthy rhythm with your breathing.

You looked down at his hand, hesitantly stepping forward and putting your hand over his, feeling a rush if excitement and longing rush through you as you felt his fingers wrap gently around your hand.

You took another step closer to him, your mind almost blank as you shut your eyes, and wordless pressed your body against his in a gentle, soothing hug.

He hesitated as you did this, fairly certain no one had ever hugged him before this very moment.

It felt. . Warm. . Comforting, almost.

Safe.

He wrapped his arm around you after a moment of uncertainty, the hold tenuous and hesitant.

He kept your hand in his, pressed between your bodies up against your chests.

He shut his eyes, feeling himself melting into the embrace.

When you pulled away finally and looked up at him, he quietly used your hand still in his to tug you with him towards the bed on the ground. He sat down on top of the blanket, looking up at you wordlessly, his hand still tenderly grasping yours.

You took in a deep breath, looking down at him intently as you sat on the ground in front of him on folded legs, taking in another deep breath with nervous giddiness from the proximity.

It felt just as you had dreamed it. The warmth, the tenderness. .

You leaned forward for what Astarion instinctively expected to be a kiss, but found himself freezing when you pressed your forehead tenderly against his, your eyes shutting.

The soft little breaths you took in to try and calm yourself, soaking up the touch in a manner that clearly felt euphoric- it was not things that went unnoticed by the vampire spawn.

You were. . Positively adorable. The gentle way you hesitantly brought your hands up to let the very tips of your fingers touch either side of his face. The soft, earnest expression you wore as you soaked up the feeling of being touched . .

He shut his eyes, bringing his hands up to gently cover your hands, feeling your tadpole reaching out to his, should he want it.

Curious, he reached out, and felt himself tale an inhale as a feeling of warmth washed over him.

Feelings of care, and trust. understanding, and longing.

But not for the thing most people wanted from him. . It was a longing to be to see, as well as be seen. A longing for understanding.

He brought his hand to press against the mid of your back, gentle and coaxing, you slowly agreed to the request, and let him guide your body to press against his.

The touch felt so different than usual. Perhaps it was the connection of the tadpole, but it felt warm, and safe

You felt safe.

He had never felt such a sensation before in his life. To genuinely trust someone. To care for them.

There were small, subtle glimpse of pain in your thoughts. Ones that he found he wanted to prod at further, but resisted.

He brushed his nose against yours mindlessly, and you returned the action, feeling entranced as he opened his own mind mind you in return, letting you see how cared for you were with him.

You melted further into the touch, slipping your arms around his back, a hand coming up to the back of his hair mindlessly to play with the soft silver locks.

He brought his hands to your sides, keeping you pressed against him as he carefully headed backwards so you rested down on top of him, his fingers coming to run along the divot of your spine.

Wrapping your leg around him, you settled comfortably against him, the heaviness of your body on top of him feeling like a pleasant weighted blanket.

He let his hands roam along your wet clothes before making their way into your damp hair.

He wanted to ask how long exactly you had been out there to have gotten so wet, be he refrained, simply listening to the rain hit the tent as you both soaked up the comforting touch.

You folded the blanket up around the two of you after a time, and felt him roll you both a moment later.

You opened your eyes softly to look at him, gently resting your forehead against his once kore, though there was no tadpole connecting you this time.

"If you ever want someone," you whispered, bringing your fingers up to tenderly touch his cheek. "If you ever want to talk, or just. . Have someone to be with, I am here." You brushed your nose against his, watching his lids fall half closed.

He looked like he wanted to respond, but was perhaps, for the first time in his life, at a loss for words.

He felt an overwhelming sense for gratitude towards the offer. He had told you things before, but it had been in moments of weakness, or because it was necessary.

He had never shared just because.

"Well," he finally whispered, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "This. . Offer, goes for you as well." He looked down, clearly trying his best, but having a hard time with more vulnerability.

"Thank you," you murmured, inching a little closer. "I'm. . Astarion, I'm so sorry, for everything you had to go through." The words were spoken with great feeling, your heart aching thinking about of of the things be had admitted to happening.

"It's in the past now, well isn't it," he replied, stroking your cheek. "But. . Thank you, love," he added with a great deal more hesitancy.

You smiled slightly, which he found did odd things to his insides.

He sighed mentally to himself. He was not going to allow himself to feel things things for you- he couldn't.

You were just-

His breathing froze as you shifted up, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and head as you shifted him so his head rested against your chest, the position feeling incredibly shielding and warm.

He felt his stomach twist, his throat strangely tight.

He wrapped his arm around your torso hesitantly after a moment, apprehensive.

No one had ever- held him before. It was not how this worked-

And yet. . He found his eyes falling shut with sudden exhaustion.

He cursed you, unsure what exactly it was about your touch that had him feeling so. . Melty. But it was unaccept-

Singing?

His ears perked up slightly, distracted from his thoughts as a sweet, soft melody gripped his attention instead.

His body eased to rest more heavily against you as his muscles relaxed.

Perhaps. . It would be okay just to relax and enjoy for a little while? And then he could get back to his plotting and manipulations later. .

He took in a deep breath, feeling your fingers touching his hair tentatively, running the tips of them through the outer layers of the silvery strands.

The soft vibration of your chest as you switched between signing and humming different parts of the song had him entranced.

You kept your gaze on him as you did so, feeling your stomach twisting with giddiness.

This had been it. It was just like you had dreamed. . The feeling of his arms around you, the dim light of the lantern casting calming shadows.

The tender, warm touch with none of the unpleasantness.

It was everything you had been craving and more.

You shut your eyes after a time, feeling him slowly heating against you as he slipped off into peaceful slumber.

You slipped down sleepily after nearly an hour of just enjoying the position of holding him safely in your arms.

You felt him shift in his sleep as you settled down against him, his arm wrapping around you, pulling you close.

You pressed your forehead against his softly, eyes shutting, feeling his breath tickle your face with every slow exhale.

You let your leg rest loosely in-between his, wrapping your arm around his waist before settling.

You slipped off a little while later to join him in slumber, the soft drumming of the rain and rumbling thunder in the distance lulling you to sleep.

[yuikomorii]

Happy 12th anniversary! 🎉

// I can’t believe so many years have passed since Ayato’s first CD drama, which marked the beginning of Diabolik Lovers and the introduction of my girl, Yui. Even if it got its flaws, I will continue to support this franchise! 💘

I have prepared an edit and a scenario for this special day! It's meant to be a "funny" one, so there will definitely be some cringe moments, but overall it's quite lighthearted. I sincerely hope you find it enjoyable! Besides, I had a blast writing Laito; he always channels my inner mischievousness.

Yui: Hmm… I believe I have all ingredients now!

( Come to think of it, the Sakamaki brothers are vampires but they surprisingly allowed me to celebrate Christmas this year. )

( It’s honestly so ironic that it makes me wonder whether or not they actually did it for… me? )

( A-Ah no, that’s definitely not the case! I’m probably just getting selfish at this point, but I genuinely do appreciate it. For this reason, I’ll try my best to cook all of their favorite dishes so as to show my gratitude! )

( Christmas is such a magical time of the year. It brings back memories of my father and I organizing the annual Christmas Mass together. We used to decorate the church and bake sweets for children, who were so cute when receiving them! Those were activities that truly brought joy to my heart… I sort of miss those times. )

( My father… I wonder, is he preparing for Christmas too? No, he most likely isn’t… )

( I don’t even know where he is to begin with but I truly hope he’s alright… )

( Anyway, I shouldn’t ruin the mood with those thoughts. Now that I've got everything ready for the dishes, I just need to find the right spot to hide Ayato-kun’s pre— )

Ayato: Yo, Chichinashi!

Yui: G-Geez! Ayato-kun, I told you already not to sneak up behind my back!

Ayato: Haa… Fine, fine, I’m sorry.

Yui: It’s— Eh?

( Wait a little, did he just apologize? )

Ayato: Why are you making such a dumb face? You don’t believe my words, do you?

Yui: Y-You got it wrong! It’s just that I wasn’t expecting Ayato-kun to apologize for something so trivial, you see.

Ayato: Hmm, I guess you’re not wrong. But, since Christmas is coming soon, it’d be a pity for Santa Claus to write me on the naughty list after trying to avoid it the whole year.

Yui: Naughty list…?

( Is it just me, or does Ayato-kun really believe Santa Claus will give him a present? I mean… Santa is told to only deliver them to children, and I'm not sure a 17-year-old still qualifies as one. )

( But I can’t straight up tell him that! It will only ruin the magic otherwise… Besides, when that thought crosses my mind, it somehow makes him appear so pure. )

Ayato: Hah? What are you grinning at? I swear, I've made an effort to be a good boy this year!

Yui: That’s really… amazing, Ayato-kun! I’m sure Santa will remember that!

Ayato: Heh? So you really think he’ll bring me something?

Yui: Uhm… Definitely!

( His eyes started sparking, I really can’t say “no” to that…! However, that only means I'll have to get him another gift so that he can have one from "Santa" and another one from me. )

B-By the way, I think I forgot to buy gingerbread syrup. I suppose I should leave before ——

Ayato: No, no, I’ll go!

Yui: You will? Ah, but you don’t have to! I was the one who forgo—…!

( He’s covering my mouth! )

Ayato: Stop blabbering already! Ore-sama offered to buy it for you, so you could try being a bit more grateful!

Yui: That’s… you’re right.

( Maybe it’s for the better. This way, I'll be able to find a hiding place for the present I already have for him. )

Ayato: I’ll be right back!

—Timeskip—

Ayato: Tsk, I can’t believe that shit was out of stock!

Chichinashi will surely be disappointed, if I come home with nothing! After all, she takes all that Christmas stuff seriously…

What's worse is that I tried really hard to find it, but it was already sold out by the time I arrived!

Tsk, damn it! Why must this be so complicated!?

Laito: Well, well. Seems like Ayato-kun is quite moody today.

Ayato: Get lost you pervert, it’s none of your business!

Laito: Haa… how rude of you, Ayato-kun. And there I was actually intending to give you this, but I guess you don’t need it anymore.

Bye bye~!

Ayato: Wait… What’s that thing in your hand?

Laito: What you ask? Nfu, it’s gingerbread syrup, of course. I was able to get the last one today.

Ayato: Wha—! Oi, you better give it to me or else—

Laito: Or else what~?

Ayato: I’ll—… Nevermind.

Look, you know I’m not into cheesy stuff but Chichinashi really loves Christmas, okay? Getting that gingerbread syrup might make her happy ‘cause maybe it’d remind her of how she celebrated it with her pops. That’s why… I can’t believe I’m saying this but… give it to me, please!

Laito: Woah, it’s honesty hour, hm?

Well, whatever, I don’t really care about that gingerbread syrup anyway, so you can take it if you want to.

Ayato: Really? Gr—

Laito: You didn’t let me finish though. I will only give it to you, if you promise me something.

Ayato: Hah? What the hell is it this time!?

Laito: No need to get so worked up~. All you have to do is to ensure that Bitch-chan consumes at least one glass of syrup at the time you bring it to her.

Ayato: That’s it? Pfft, easiest task ever!

Wait… almost a bit too easy.

Oi you perv, you better not plan something behind Ore-sama’s back, understood?

Laito: Normally I would, but Christmas is just around the corner, right? Who would risk being added to the naughty list at the last minute, right?

— hands Ayato the gingerbread syrup—

Place: Living room

Ayato: Yui! Yui! I’m back and look what I found!!

Yui: Good job, Ayato-kun! Thank you so much for helping me!

Ayato: Now take a seat!

— forces her to sit down —

Yui: Eh? What’s happening?

Ayato: Nothing to worry about, just drink this!

— shoves glass of syrup down her throat —

Yui: Mmh…!!

(What on earth!? I can’t breathe—!)

— Yui swallows it —

Ayato: So~, how is it?

— Yui starts coughing —

Yui: It’s… it’s not as sweet as I remembered. This one is quite bitter.

Ayato: Bitter? Don’t spout nonsense, gingerbread can’t be bitter!

Yui: Yeah… thought so too… but..

(My head started spinning around…)

Ayato: Are you even paying attention to what I’m saying?

Yui: Uuh… Sorry, Ayato-kun, I’m suddenly feeling so dizzy…

Ayato: How—?

( The heck’s wrong with her? Is it ‘cause she swallowed that too fast or…? )

Yui: Ayato-kun…

Ayato: What’s it?

Yui: Has anyone ever told you before that you are… extremely cute?

Ayato: Hah!? I mean, yeah, but what’s up with the random confession?

Yui: Eh? Am I not allowed to compliment the most adorable boy in the whole wide world…?

Ayato: Huh—?

Yui: You see, when I look at you like that… you might not be very clear, yet I can’t help but want to protect you…

Ayato: Protect me? D-Don’t say shit like that, it should be the other way around! After all, Ore-sama is the stron—!

(She pinned me down!?)

Yui: Fufu, you’re just so funny when you praise yourself like that…!

Everything about you is so beautiful… your hard yet nicely textured hair, your jade green eyes, your long eyelashes, your ——

Ayato: Tsk, get off me!

— pushes her away —

— Yui falls down —

Yui: Ngh…!

Ayato: …!

Oi! I… I didn’t mean to! Wait, gimme your hand!

— Yui takes his hand and looks up —

Ayato: (Don’t tell me… did that push bring her back to normal? Heh, if that’s so then—)

Yui: Mistletoe…

— puts her hands on his cheeks —

Yui: Holding your face like this makes me realize how soft your cheeks are… They are so round that I wish I could give you more and more Takoyaki until they become even chubbier…!

Ayato: S-Say what—!?

( It’s not like I dislike cheeky women but she’s nuts! )

— Yui gets closer to his lips —

Ayato: …!

*Smooch*

Laito: Fufu, hahaha, look at your face!

Ayato: Oi, Laito! Don’t just stand there staring, help me!

*Smooch*

Laito: Now why would I? After all, I already did you a favor by giving you the gingerbread liquor~!

Ayato: But you— Did you just say gingerbread LIQUOR!?

*Smooch*

Laito: Ex-act-ly! I was simply curious to see what kind of ‘drunk’ Bitch-chan is, and it seems like she’s the honest and horny type.

— takes picture —

Ayato: O-Oi! Don’t you dare to send it to anyone, delete it right now!

Laito: Oh my, look at the time! Now excuse me but I have to take my leave~.

Ayato: You can’t! Save me first!

Laito: Sorry Ayato-kun, no matter how delicious it feels watching you on top of each other while making out in plain sight, I've got better things to do, so... nfu, enjoy while it lasts!

— winks and disappears —

Ayato: You… You bastard! You will pay for this, I swear you wi— Mmh… Mm!

( Now how will I get myself out of THIS situation!? )

( Ugh, that’s what happens when you try helping others. I should have learnt my lesson a long time ago! )

— Yui stops kissing —

Yui: Will Ayato-kun… suck my blood?

Ayato: …!

( Heh, suddenly this doesn’t seem half bad anymore. I might actually grow to like being desired like that~. )

[sassydefendorflower]

In case of their death, each Bat has a dedicated spot where they keep their will/private messages to different members of their family/their friends.

It makes sense in their line of work.

Tim's is a hard drive, no surprise there, but he made sure the code to access it was just stupid enough that most of the family would have to come together to crack it (and even then, they still have to call Bart for the final clue) - it’s something stupid and sentimental, something Bruce would never have guessed Tim would choose as a password. Maybe Quadruple Summersault. Or Short Pants. Or Second Mask. Or Always Be Prepared. Or maybe just I Love You.

Babs has a lot of video messages just in case. She wrote code that would automatically send her last words to everyone she cherished (her dad, the Bats, the Birds of Prey, her co-workers at the library) should she forget to enter the I'm Still Alive Code. (she has to stay at the hospital once without her phone and accidentally sends her last words to everyone - Gotham is chaos for a day until people manage to check in on her).

Cass has already hidden all her goodbyes in the rooms of those she thinks deserve it. Once she is gone, she hopes Bruce will find the letter in her nightstand. The one that says "my words are still here, you just have to look for it" - which is a bit ironic, considering most of her letters consist of funny cartoons and nice memories captured in the chicken scratch of someone who might never be a portrait artist but can undoubtedly catch a moment in time with just a few strokes of a pencil.

Dick updates his will every couple of months, just to be safe. And his letters? His final words? Those are usually stored with a civilian friend or two. One batch is definitely kept at Titans Tower. All of these people have instructions to send them once the news of his death has hit the public. His letters are unusually long, filled with jokes and anecdotes, and a lot of things he never quite managed to say before. For someone who likes to talk, Dick is awfully good at saying nothing. But that's not how he wants to die - at least not this time, so long letters it is.

Jason doesn't have a lot of letters, or a lot of anything really. He just has a very detailed will. A binding legal paper that explains exactly what the family is supposed to do with his body. He's not gonna take any more chances with this. At the end of his will, there is only one addendum: I love you. Please let me be dead. Nothing more - nothing less.

Steph is a bit obsessed with the details of her death, maybe because her first close encounter resulted in a complete loss of agency. She wants to plan it down to the smallest bit, and since she knows she cant do that, she plans everything else. Where she wants to be buried, what songs should be played, what kind of food should be offered... and in each of these instructions there is a personal message hidden just within. She wants Bruce and Tim to carry her coffin, carry her one last time. She wants Cass to dance at her funeral, and Babs and her mom to write the speeches. Small love letters hidden in a search for control.

Damian is needlessly good at compartmentalizing, or maybe its because he's just twelve. He should think of himself as immortal, and nothing is crueler than the fact that he doesn't. He has a will, hidden underneath his mattress because he's too young to actually request legally binding documents. And he has letters and paintings and notebooks - in the hopes that when they find them they'll remember him as a boy and not a weapon. For someone so desperately striving for the title of Robin, Damian mostly wants to be remembered as a son.

For a long time Duke didn't partake in this "family tradition". Because he saw himself as outside of them, as someone with parents, as someone with a home. But a dozen close calls, and suddenly mortality becomes something else. So he saves his will on the Batcomputer, addressed to his parents but protected by Bruce. And he writes small notes. Thoughts. Ideas. Things he thinks they will appreciate should he be gone one day. And he leaves them lying around. Maybe the mark he makes is hidden in the small things. The post-it notes and exploded overhead lights. Duke would be fine with that.

And then there is Bruce, who - in a way - cannot die. His legacy is the Cave, his brain a part of the mainframe they use to fight crime. And he knows that. He knows that no matter where he goes, he will never be really gone. So he makes sure that one day - long after he has passed - the Batcomputer destroys itself. To set them free. To leave them with the physical memorabilia of Bruce Wayne, and no longer with the desperation of the Bat. It's the biggest love letter Bruce can imagine writing - the possibility of being free.

[butchcarmy]

hi tuna! i was wondering if you could write something where carmy and reader are at a house party and either one of them is sitting on the roof smoking a joint and the other finds them up and there joins them? thank u in advance <3

YES. I really loved this prompt... so here ya go!

word count: 1.4k

content tags: smoking, substance use, first meetings

Parties like this aren't usually your scene. 

It's not like you can't appreciate it as a bystander—you suppose there's an appeal to music so loud you can't hear your own thoughts. There are certainly some days where you want to lose yourself in a crowd, drunk and careless. Today is not one of those days. 

You can't quite remember how your friend convinced you to come to their party. It'll be fun, they promised, a nice change of pace. It is a nice change of pace, sure. It's different from sitting by yourself at home, but…

Now you're just sitting by yourself at someone else's home, smoking a joint on their porch. 

This is more your pace. You're relaxed into one of your friend's water stained outdoor chairs, feet propped up on a low table. This is about all you can handle today—slow drags of weed and the sound of summer bugs in the trees. The sound of the party lays muffled behind you, sealed by the porch door. 

The noise of the music and dancing inside becomes sharp for a moment as you hear the door opening. You look over your shoulder to see someone you don't recognize hastily stepping out. He seems frazzled, brushing back the brown waves in his face back with his hand. He also seems very…handsome.

“Sorry, didn't know anyone was out here,” is the first thing he says. He has a nice voice, low and smooth. And nervous, you notice. 

“It's cool. It's not like I own the porch.” You shrug, taking another inhale from your sizzling joint. You had hoped that your comment would loosen the tension that'd tied knots all in his face, but it doesn't. He just laughs breathlessly back, short and shaky. “Not a party person?”

“Not really.” He pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket. That's when you notice the tattoos on his hands, emblazoned across the backs and his knuckles. Pretty. “You?”

“Sometimes. But not today.” That works—you see him visibly relax, even if just a little bit. “My friend invited me—it's their party—but I, I don't know. I guess I thought I'd be up for it, but…” You shrug. “And now I'm here.”

“I see. I get that. Uh—” He pauses, taking a slow hit from his white cigarette. “My coworkers, um, they invited me. I didn't wanna be an asshole, so I came, but…” He sighs. “Yeah. Now I'm here.”

“Tough.” You nod at the empty seat next to you. “Seat's open, if you want it.”

“Thanks.” He takes the seat next to you. This is when you really take notice of his muscles, especially his biceps and pecs wrapped tightly in that white t-shirt of his. A burst of attraction rushes through you.

“Uh—” You should keep talking. Distract yourself from his, uh, everything. “Do you smoke?” He gives you a funny look, eyes glancing towards his cigarette. “Fuck, I mean, do you smoke weed? Sorry, I'm a little high.”

“It's cool.” He's actually smiling now. It's a nice smile. “Yeah, not often, but I do.”

“Well.” You extend your hand towards him, offering him the joint. “You can have some of this if you want. Might help you relax. No pressure, of course.”

“...Actually, yeah. That'd be nice. Thank you.” He takes the joint from you with his other hand. Now he's got a cigarette in one and a joint in another. You both share an amused, knowing look. “You smoke cigs?”

“Sometimes. Here, let's trade.” He hands you his cigarette. “Not that there's anything wrong with dual-wielding. Take one hit off the joint, and then off the cig…”

“Dual-wielding,” he repeats, laughing under his breath. You chuckle, entertained by the thought and his reaction. You don't mean to watch him as he brings the joint up to his lips and pulls, but you do anyway. You're not sure if him smoking a cigarette or a joint looks more attractive. 

“I feel like we should know each other's names now.” You know it sounds a bit forward, but the high's making you brave. You introduce yourself to him. “And your name is?”

“I'm Carmen.” Of course even his name is pretty. “Most people just call me Carmy, though.”

“Carmy.” You can't help your smile. “That's cute. Do you have a preference?”

“Uh—” He looks good with a little bit of pink on his cheeks. “Carmy's fine.”

“Okay, then. Carmy it is.” 

You two develop a rhythm. You trade the joint and cigarette back and forth, inhaling puffs of weed and tobacco back to back. Intimate is not quite the right word to describe it, but you're not sure if there's a better word for it. You definitely feel something of a connection pulling the both of you closer together. You even think that somehow, the space between your seats is shrinking too.

“I used to smoke more weed back in college,” Carmy says. The joint's almost finished by now, and with it, you both become a lot more loose-lipped. He's staring into the distance like he's remembering something. “You ever green out?”

“Oh yeah, plenty of times.” You laugh to yourself, shaking your head. “Back when I first started smoking—well, I started with edibles.”

“As does everyone.”

“Yeah, and it's stupid. It's way too easy to go overboard with edibles.”

“Seriously. I've only ever had edibles once, and. Well.”

“Ah…It was bad, I take it?”

“Yep.” He laughs quietly, and the infectious sound of it makes you smile. “It was awful. I even threw up.”

“Oh no,” you gasp. “That's how you know it's bad. I've managed to stop myself from throwing up, but I've definitely felt like I was dying a couple times.”

“Oh, of course. As it goes.” You both chuckle. “I thought my tolerance was high enough. It wasn't that many milligrams, but I guess my body hated it.”

“It happens.” The cigarette dies out in your hands, burned right down to the filter. You snub it out on the arm of your chair. “I used to enjoy edibles, but ever since I greened out real bad one time, I just can't do them anymore. They just wreck my shit.”

“Maybe that's for the best.” He puts out the joint too. “Just stick to regular lung damage like the rest of us.”

“Lessons learned, I guess.” You grin. A comfortable pause settles. “...Carmy?”

“Yeah?”

“We've smoked it all. Everything.”

“I have some more cigarettes if you want one.”

“No, no…” You lean forward, propping your elbows on your knees. He instinctively mirrors you, sitting up in his chair. “It's all gone.”

“Oh. Well.” He tilts his head to the side. “What should we do now?”

“We could sit here and suffer. Or…” You rest your chin in the palms of your hands, cradling your face. “I could roll us another joint back at my place.”

“Oh.” Looks like it clicked. His blue eyes are widened with surprise.

“You don't have to,” you say quickly, “really. But I've been having a good time with you, and I…I like you. I think you're cute.” Ordinarily, you wouldn't be this forward, but you swear you feel something here. “Sorry if this is—too much.”

“No, not at all,” he replies, just as quick. “Don't apologize. Please. I just—” He fumbles, making a vague hand gesture. “This has been really, really nice. You're so easy to talk to, and I, I'm not used to that.” He smiles at you, shy and adorable. You're momentarily gripped with something akin to cuteness aggression, but you keep it under wraps. “I…I like you. A lot. I'd love to go to your place.”

“Yeah?” He nods. “Okay. Cool. Um…” You feel your insides jumbling all over each other. “Sorry, now I'm getting all flustered.”

“It's okay.” His smile blossoms further, turning into something radiant. “I like it. You're cute.” You make a small noise at that.

“Smooth talker.” You stand up from your seat, and he looks up at you momentarily before following suit. “I'm just down the block. Up for a walk?”

You don't bother telling your friend you're leaving. The two of you chat and laugh all the way to your place, your voices echoing down the quiet road. Turns out your friend was right after all—the party turned out to be very, very fun. 

[starsopinions]

The Minecraft movie........

I've been playing Minecraft for as long as I can remember. My brother and I would spend hours on Hypixel, our survival world, and building escape rooms for each other (the exit would no doubt be behind a painting). As a movie fanatic, a film about Minecraft sounds like such a fun concept with great potential yet from the look from the teaser trailer it seems like all that potential will remain unused.

Link to the trailer if you haven't seen it yet!

Plenty of people have already commented on how it looks, which let’s be frank, is terrible. This post, however, is not about the look but the story so here is a summary: The set design is quite nice except it does not look like any Minecraft biome. The people look extremely out of place, especially Steve who is supposed to be part of this world. Last but not least, there are moving, working windmills. Anyone who has played Minecraft will probably feel the same way about this, which is not happy. This is the main problem, the makers have maybe watched 1 Let’s Play. They don’t know the Minecraft experience. They haven’t played hardcore survival and felt the pain when you die because your elytra breaks, they have never gone mining at 2 am on a rainy night or have built a beautiful base they a proud of.

Which brings us to the soulless plot. For anyone unfamiliar, this is what Warner Bros. describes it as: “Four misfits—Garrett “The Garbage Man” Garrison, Henry, Natalie and Dawn—find themselves struggling with ordinary problems when they are suddenly pulled through a mysterious portal into the Overworld: a bizarre, cubic wonderland that thrives on imagination. To get back home, they’ll have to master this world (and protect it from evil things like Piglins and Zombies, too) while embarking on a magical quest with an unexpected, expert crafter, Steve. Together, their adventure will challenge all five to be bold and to reconnect with the qualities that make each of them uniquely creative…the very skills they need to thrive back in the real world.”

That made me throw up in my mouth a little. Minecraft is such a fun and unique game and this is what they come up with? Minecraft is a game about being creative and there are literally endless possibilities. This plot has nothing to do with the actual game and could be applied to any video game. Speaking of other games, it hasn’t escaped anyone’s notice that this is the exact plot of the movie Jumanji.

I’m secretly hoping they pull a Sonic and fix the movie at the last minute but I don’t think that is realistic. I don’t think all is lost though, Emma Myers (who plays Natalie) is, in my opinion, a great addition to the cast and is funny and talented. The rest of the cast isn’t much to write home about, unfortunately. As stated before, I do think the set has a cool look to it, it is just a shame that it doesn’t look like Minecraft.

Here is what I would do if I were in charge:

Firstly the whole cast is going. I would make it an animated film, Minecraft isn’t a realistic game and it doesn’t come across well in live-action. Steve and Alex would be the main characters.

The movie would have an entirely different plot and would either focus on Steve and Alex trying to defeat the Enderdragon for the first time, etc. (I think this is a bit basic but sometimes less is more)

Or it could be about the lore of the Enderdragon, Endermen, Ghasts, etc. and what happened to them and how they ended up where they are. There are so many theories about this online and it’s a side of that Minecraft hasn't been explored yet.

Another option could be about the villagers and pillagers. It would be cool to see more of their history and maybe Steve meddling to make peace or something in that direction. Think about how cool raids could be in movie form.

(see how I just thought of 3 way more original and fun plots off the top of my head when the writers couldn’t think of a singular one in months)-

A MUST for me is the classic Minecraft music. It should be in the trailer, in the movie, it should be everywhere. It is so nostalgic and everyone who has ever played Minecraft knows how iconic it is. (not saying it is not in the movie right now, I obviously haven’t seen it yet but wanted to include this point)

I think it could be cool if, for example, Steve would find a new biome or a new item and then we would get it in the game in an update. It would show a real connection between the movie and the game which is missing right now. (again not saying they won’t do this but I’m not getting my hopes up)

Besides all this, it would be amazing to see jokes and references to the actual game. Think forgetting to set your spawnpoint, inventory being full, etc.

And lastly, I NEED to see Minecraft YouTuber's references. I think they might do this, I’ve seen multiple YouTubers talk about the movie and I know Mumbo visited the set, so there is a possibility. Minecraft has one of the biggest YouTube communities, not referencing it would be a missed opportunity for sure.

I don’t think this movie will be especially bad, from the looks of it, it’s going to be a whole lot of meh. I do want to say that I have not seen the movie yet as it isn’t out yet, this means that a lot could still change (please please please). I will be in the cinema on April 4th with low expectations but high hopes, I have never wanted to be wrong more. Let me know what you think and thank you for reading all the way to the end <3

As always, this is MY opinion. Feel free to disagree but remember: It is a game about blocks, it's not that important (she says after ranting about it for like 2 hours lmao).

[viviennevermillion]

With an s/o who is a writer

notes: so we have this now

contains: character x gn!reader, established relationship

characters included: leona kingscholar, rook hunt, idia shroud, malleus draconia

warnings: none

dark content creators & consumers do not interact

Okay so Leona is like, the last person in the cast who'd be into creative writing if it wasn't for the fact that he was dating a writer but he's supportive. He's got the spirit. Even if he has different priorities.

Literally comes into your room, sees you sitting at your laptop and working on a story and he's like: "Are ya winning?" He pulls a chair next to yours and rests his head on your shoulder, looking at your draft with you. "Tf am I supposed to be winning?", you chuckle and ruffle his hair, gently scratching his ear in the process. "I don't know, the recognition of the internet people or something. You were the one who said 'Spite can be a great writing motivation' if I recall correctly", he shrugs and presses a kiss to your cheek. "It's not a competition, you know?", you laugh and get up, shoving your chair to the side to sit on Leona's lap instead.

He doesn't mind just wrapping his arms around your waist and letting you sit on his lap while you write. He'll read along and rest his head on your shoulder from behind, wrapping his tail around you as well. Now you have a clingy oversized cat attached to you while you work on your latest project. Congrats. He probably falls asleep halfway through, not that you'd mind.

It took a while for you to feel comfortable to show Leona your writing, because the second prince of Sunset Savannah could be quite the judgemental person. Leona would never mock anything you cared about as soon as he started dating you but seeing his demeanor towards other people still made you hesitate. But Leona has been supportive of you ever since you talked to him about your passion, even if he doesn't quite get it. Honestly be glad Leona isn't someone who'd ever start writing because he's inspired by you, he would turn this into a competition.

If you post your works online, Leona makes an account on whatever platform you post them on solely to follow you and support you. If you work on something for several hours and get less notes than someone with two paragraphs Leona is more frustrated than you.

He originally just wanted to support you but he finds himself surprised at how the plot of your stories actually intrigues him and he's curious what happens next.

If you write poetry, he's less involved. He just doesn't get poetry. He's like "why don't they just say what they mean?"

If you ever get Leona to write anything it'd be literate roleplay. Only joins because you asked him but gets really into it halfway through. Wants to make his character cool and wants him to fight the other characters. He's like "this is my character, he's a king and he can do whatever he wants-"

Leona's stylistic device is using poetic descriptions in the same sentence with words like "bastard" and "shitfaced" and he somehow manages to actually pull this off

You took him to tabletop night with Idia and Azul once and he got himself perma-banned from Board Game Club because he fucked with their nerves so much that they never wanted to see him there again.

He's worried you might be mad at him at first. "Nah it was kinda funny", you reassure him, "though if we ever do this again it should probably just be the two of us..." Leona chuckles and pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Rook writes poetry himself and he loves the arts so he's so on board with this.

But, listen. Rook is that one reader every writer wants but few of us actually get. He reads literally anything you write ever and he responds by sending you like a whole essay of his thoughts on the characters and the plot in depth and how it made him feel.

"Beauté", Rook tears up and pulls you into a hug, kissing your forehead enthusiastically, "I must thank you, mon chéri / ma chérie, by sharing the work you put your heart into with me and presenting me with the result of your creativity and passion; you have made my heart feel a little more complete and my mind more enlightened. Because you have chosen to let me view the beauty that is your prose and poetry, every day I get one step closer to truly call myself le chasseur d'amour! Truly extraordinary!" He takes your hands into his and looks deeply into your eyes as he tells you this; like he's confessing the full extent of his love to you. He cups your cheeks and kisses your lips softly, trying to convey all the feelings that overwhelm his heart and that words would never do justice to you.

He will gush about your works to Vil and Epel so much that they are tired of hearing about it.

He’d be happy if you tell him your thoughts about his poetry too. He writes a lot of it but he doesn’t really have anyone to talk about it with because most people just don’t get his poetry. But if you keep an open mind and give him some appreciation for what he wrote, Rook is so thankful and excited.

He’s so excited for anything new you write. “Feel free to notify me immediately once you’re finished with your newest chef-d'œuvre, even if it’s the middle of the night and I am asleep”, he smiles at you and kisses your hand. 

He’s not kidding, btw

He wakes up in the morning to see you snuggled up against him and he gives you a kiss on the forehead, waking you up softly. “Ugh…just 10 more minutes”, you groan and bury your face in his chest. Rook chuckles and runs his fingertips up and down your back. “You seem very tired, mon cœur”, he whispers and presses a kiss to your lips. You kiss back gently and wrap your arms around him. “Were you working on your newest oeuvre d'art until late at night again?”, he asks and shakes his head. He loves everything you make but he’d rather have you well-rested and comfortable. You confirm his suspicions with a tired nod. “Well, did you finish it?”, he asks. “Yes”, you mumble and try to hide from the rising sun by burying your face in his neck. “Didn’t I tell you to wake me up, so I can read it?”, he gets up and turns on your laptop, carrying it over to the bed so you can enter the password. “I thought you were exaggerating”, you shrugged and opened your finished project. “When have I ever exaggerated?”, Rook asks and wraps an arm around you while his eyes wandered across the document, “you should know best that all I express towards you is nothing but raw, unfiltered honesty.” You sigh. “Right, you have a point.”

Getting to read your newest work literally makes his day. Rook is your biggest fan definitely.

Okay you can't tell me Idia doesn't write fanfiction or at least read it. That man has been through every genre of fanworks.

You write? He admires that. You write fanfiction? Even better.

Send him soul-crushing angst of his favorite characters please, his reactions are so funny. He's like "why would you do this to my poor otaku heart HEFHHSJEHFHSBFDBSNFXNNENNSNR 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭"

He will literally commission you or request from you to write his ideas and surprise him with something he'd love.

He'd be like, kicking his legs and text you his live-reaction.

Idia is one of those people who request from you and make it so hyper-specific that you need to read into the lore of an entirely new game or anime just to even understand what exactly he wants. He'd send you "Can you write angst with this character if his love interest had the blood curse from the hit-game 'Below the 2nd Temple' but if the blood curse made you seek out the 5 goblets of wisdom and then drop dead. What would be their reaction to the one they love dearly leading such a pitiful existence? Oh and can you make the dragon from the sequel 'Below the 3rd Temple' appear at the end when the love interest runs out of horvathian gemstones?" and you sit there like what the fuck did he just say????

He's like "oh it's all on the official forum lore section" as if you're going to read in-depth lore for a game you never played just to write his angsty crossover AU.

"Why don't you write it yourself at this point?", you look at him and sigh. "But I love your works", Idia wraps his arms around you from behind and kisses your cheek repeatedly, pulling you into his lap.

He will absolutely try to bribe you into writing it. He'll offer you kisses and a nice, warm bath and a massage....whether you fall for it is up to you.

But he's so happy when he gets the final result. He geeks out about it to Azul who understands even less about the request than you when you first started working on it.

Idia would also do semi-literate and literate roleplay with you online.

Overall loves that you're a writer and will support you whenever you need it. Idia can actually be pretty creative himself so when you struggle to continue and lack an idea, he might just deliver exactly what you need.

Malleus has read many books throughout his lifetime. Be it biographies, fiction or textbooks about all kinds of topics. Most of them were outdated and the writing style of the novels he’s read has long since gone out of fashion. 

Malleus is mostly unfamiliar with the modern way of writing stories. Hell, many of the things he’s read have been written with a magical pen and ink. The Briar Valley castle libraries contain many books that are unique and don’t have any other copies in the whole world. The newer ones were written on a typewriter. 

He’s super interested when you tell him you write as a hobby for the first time. He’s seen many printed books since coming to Night Raven College but watching you just pull out your laptop and write a whole story in just a couple of hours is fascinating to him. He lets you sit on his lap and wraps his arms around you. He rests his head on your shoulder or against your head and watches as the words just seem to spill onto the pages. He reads along and asks you a couple of questions in the meantime, still being careful not to distract you though. 

“Why did the king say this to his daughter?”, Malleus asks with a surprised expression, “is he hiding something?” You chuckle. “You’ll find that out in about five chapters”, you turn around a bit to be able to press a sweet kiss to his lips. Malleus smiles and puts his hands on his hips. “And when do I get to read those?”, he asks and you let out a sigh. “Only god knows”, you bury your head in your hands, “if the heavens decide to randomly inject me with whatever writer steroids I was on when I wrote the first three chapters, it might be tomorrow after an all-nighter and an unholy amount of coffee. If things don’t go well it could be next New Year’s Day.” “But it’s January…”, Malleus sighs.

He’s always the first to witness all the frustrations that come with being a writer. He finds it amusing but he also hopes you always find the motivation and productivity you want. 

If you write poetry, Malleus always reads it with great interest, trying to search for messages within the lines. Before the two of you got together, this was how he’s been trying to look for hints of your feelings for him.

He’s so unfamiliar with the modern world that sometimes he finds out way later that something you mentioned in your works is in fact not a fictional thing you made up. He’ll smile at you and tell you how creative you are for coming up with all this fantastic and wondrous stuff and then you rent an apartment with him to stay at during your fourth year internships. “Wait, you’re telling me roombas are real???”, he just stares at the little apparatus cleaning your living room floor in awe. You raise an eyebrow: “You thought they were fake?” He just stares at you with a slightly confused expression.

Malleus is actually pretty easily motivated to write something himself. And he’s good at it too, given his eloquent way of speaking and writing that has been taught to him at a young age due to him being a prince. He has so many in-depth thoughts, it’s pretty easy for him to make detailed descriptions of something and bring a story to life. He projects a lot too. Like, you know him too well and you just know exactly where the lines in the story about the lonely gargoyle just wishing for a friend or for anyone to care about his feelings come from. But that’s a conversation for another day. 

[potterrstar]

Hello!! Idk if you would feel comfortable writing this but would you be able to write something that's a regulus/Sirius x reader love triangle and you can choose who reader ends up with? I mean honestly it can be anyone and Sirius (I am in love with the man). If you don't wish to, I totally understand and hope you have the best of days:) much love ❤️

-🪐

sirius black/regulus black x reader

summary: what can be so bad about starting dating one of the black brothers?

warnings: probably nothing! just slytherin!reader

a/n: hi!! thank u so much for ur request, sorry about the delay, but i hope you enjoy it and also have the best of days! sending lots of love too! 💗 english is not my first language, let me know any mistakes!

───❃•❃•❃───

Lately, it had been raining quite a bit; there was supposed to have been some kind of storm since last week. Regulus could see how the raindrops made water trails on the library window. He listened to the rain showering the castle roof.

He watched as his housemate entered the room, her tie slightly askew and her hair tousled, looking as if she had run all the way there.

Regulus didn't have many friends, to be honest. He believed he didn't need them; after all, they didn't bring him anything. Except for her, a girl he had met in second grade, who, unlike everyone else he knew, he didn't find absolutely and completely unbearable. She could even be kinda nice and a bit pretty, a little.

"Hi! How's it going? Is it difficult?" The girl referred to the herbology homework the younger Black was working on. She took a seat in front of him, placing her things on the table.

"Not really, it's a stupid subject," Regulus replied, focusing his gaze on the parchments in front of him.

"I like it," the girl smiled. "I think it's interesting. Did you know that mandrake is used to cure petrified people?" she commented.

Regulus smiled at her; he really couldn't care less about anything related to herbology, but she cared, so he cared a little too.

"I didn't know that." Of course he knew, but he liked making her think he didn't. He noticed a little sparkle in her eyes whenever he did.

There it was, the sparkle in her eyes. She smiled at him. "I don't think it's as bad as you think; you should give it a chance," she said about the subject.

"I'm not really interested," Regulus turned back to his work.

"Oh," she lowered her gaze until she remembered what her housemates had told her that morning. "Hey! There's a match this afternoon, Slytherin versus Gryffindor. I hope we win!" The girl smiled. "Are you going?" she asked excitedly.

Regulus didn't like those games; he didn't even like half the people who went there. "I don't think so."

"You should, we're sure to win! I heard your brother is playing, I think he's a Beater for Gryffindor." Regulus felt his blood boil.

Regulus never got along well with his older brother. He thought he was arrogant and didn't find him nice at all. He usually didn't care what Sirius thought of him; actually, nothing that came from Sirius Black mattered to him.

"I don't care; he's an idiot." Regulus rolled his eyes.

She really didn't understand why they got along so poorly. When they were in second grade, she thought it was just because they were in different houses, but as they grew older, she realized it wasn't just that—they really hated each other. She never asked Regulus why that was, and she didn't plan on doing so.

As for her, she didn't hate Sirius Black. They had talked a few times in the hallways and when she occasionally visited the Black house since she was friends with the younger brother, so they had a few conversations. She found him nice and really liked the pranks he played with his Marauder friends; she found them funny.

───❃•❃•❃───

With the sky pouring down and the stands painted red and green, the Gryffindor versus Slytherin match began.

The girl was really excited; she loved Quidditch—not to play, of course, but she adored watching it. She loved seeing everyone flying on their brooms, giving their all to represent their house and make it proud. She loved Slytherin and was quite proud to be a snake.

The problem was that Slytherin had been on a losing streak in Quidditch lately, having lost the last two finals—one against Hufflepuff and the other against Gryffindor. She hoped that today she would finally see her teammates in green lift the Quidditch cup.

The match proceeded fairly normally; they were tied at the moment. Slytherin tried to score, but their players were neutralized by the Bludgers sent by the elder Black. Sirius was quite good at playing Quidditch, although it was curious because, as far as she remembered, Sirius didn't usually play Quidditch. She believed he had only signed up this year.

Suddenly, the Gryffindor Seeker, James Potter, caught the Golden Snitch, announcing the victory of the lion house. The green stands booed and deflated with this announcement; it was unbelievable how they had lost three finals.

The girl sighed, waiting for the stands to empty a bit so she could get down without being pushed. Once enough people had cleared out, she descended the stands, running into a couple of Gryffindor players.

"You knocked everyone out, it was incredible, Pads!" said the dark-haired boy with glasses.

"You caught the Snitch; without that, we wouldn't have won!" Sirius replied to the Gryffindor Seeker. Turning around, he saw the Slytherin girl, and a smile formed on his face. "See you later, yeah?" the black-haired boy said goodbye to his friend.

"What's up, pretty? Sad because you lost?" he teased her as he approached.

"Quite, it's a disaster. I don't understand how they let themselves get hit," she rolled her eyes.

"They didn't let themselves get hit; I hit them," Sirius boasted with a smile, a big, white, and perfect smile. She noticed it; she found it attractive.

They started walking, entering the castle. It was dinner time, so they headed to the Great Hall.

"I don't think so. You cheated or something," she laughed.

"Oh yeah? Like the other two times you lost?" Sirius laughed back. There wasn't much to say about it; Slytherin was in decline.

"Well, whatever, I think Quidditch is silly," she lied, rolling her eyes.

"That's not true, you love it. I saw your eyes sparkle from the pitch," he confronted her.

"As if you could see my eyes from the pitch, it's too far," she accused.

"Not far enough to miss you," Sirius said suggestively. The Slytherin girl felt a shiver run down her neck.

"Don't be ridiculous." She laughed a little nervously. Just then, they passed by the Herbology classroom, and a lightbulb went off in her head, remembering she needed wormwood to finish her homework.

"Wait! I need to collect a plant for my Herbology homework," she announced to the Gryffindor.

"Are you kidding?" the boy followed her. "You like Herbology?" he asked the Slytherin.

"Uh, yes, a bit," she murmured. "I know it's a stupid subject, but I find it interesting," she said while picking leaves from the plant.

"Stupid?" Sirius frowned. "Why would it be? I mean, I don't like it much, to be honest, but that doesn't make it stupid. If you find it interesting, it must be fun," he gave her a genuine smile.

"You think so?" she returned his smile, hopeful.

"Of course," he helped her carry the leaves. "I like Transfiguration," he commented.

"Really? I don't like it… it's not that i hate it! I find it amazing, I'm just not very good at it," she laughed a little.

"Well, maybe one day I can teach you Transfiguration, and you can teach me Herbology," he suggested.

"Sounds great," she accepted his plan.

She liked the idea of being able to share what she loved without it sounding like a bother; she often felt that way.

───❃•❃•❃───

Recently, the girl was going out with Sirius, nothing too serious. They went to Hogsmeade for a walk, and Sirius bought her a dittany, which was a plant she adored, so she planted it in the herbology greenhouse.

They also tried to have their little Transfiguration classes, which didn't go very well. (She might have turned a Gryffindor student into a cricket or something like that) But it's the thought that counts!

The girl was now in Divination class with the younger Black.

He took a breath. "Listen, I thought we could go out today. I don't know, maybe go to the Black Lake," he suggested to the girl.

Today? Today she was going to teach Sirius about herbology, though she thought that she hadn't spent much time with Regulus lately, and she enjoyed doing so.

The girl used to have a crush on Regulus some time ago. She never told him, but she was certain that he knew; there was no way he couldn't have noticed. She was far too obvious for him not to figure it out. But just like her, he never said a word, so eventually, the girl tried to mitigate the feeling.

He never did anything to make it clear that he liked her.

"Uh sure, sounds good," she accepted her housemate's invitation.

Of course, she wanted to see Sirius, but despite everything, Regulus was her best friend, and they hadn't hung out for a couple of weeks. Besides, it was just Regulus; he wouldn't hurt her. She could talk to Sirius later, who didn't seem to mind the fact that the younger ones were best friends. He found it totally strange that someone as sweet as the Slytherin girl would get along so well with someone as repulsive as his brother, at least that's what he thought. But he didn't plan to tell the girl; it wasn't necessary. He knew that she cared about his younger brother, and he wasn't going to get involved in that.

They left their class, heading towards the Black Lake. Their walk was silent; Regulus didn't say a word, and she, for some unknown reason, didn’t feel like talking to him. She didn’t even know what to talk about. After spending so much time with Sirius, she discovered that it was very easy to talk to him; conversations flowed effortlessly. Everything with him flowed effortlessly.

“Are you okay?” Regulus spoke for the first time.

“Of course, why do you ask?” she questioned him.

“You always talk, you talk a lot,” he replied.

“That’s not true.” She rolled her eyes, which made the black-haired boy laugh.

As they laughed, the eldest Black appeared in front of them, bumping into them. Upon seeing him, Regulus instinctively took the girl's hand and intertwined their fingers, which made her frown slightly.

Sirius walked calmly towards the girl, completely ignoring his younger brother.

“Aren’t you going to make it to our little date because of him?” he whispered, though not quietly enough for the boy beside her not to hear, of course.

The older brother walked away from the girl with a smirk, not giving her a chance to respond. He was overly confident, it radiated from him, in fact.

When the Gryffindor was far enough away, Regulus abruptly let go of the girl's hand.

“What the hell is your problem? Why are you going out with my brother?” he yelled at her.

The girl opened her mouth in surprise. “I’m not! I’m here with you, you heard him,” she protested.

“I’m not talking about today. Is this why you haven’t talked to me these past few weeks? Because you’re screwing him?”

“What the hell is your problem?” she repeated. “You have no right to say anything to me, much less treat me like this. What’s wrong with you?”

Regulus was angry. Really angry.

His problem was that, one way or another, he was always going to end up feeling less than him. He hated Sirius, but not as much as he hated the feeling of never being as great as Sirius Black, never being as cool as Sirius Black.

“You can’t date someone like him! You can do better, you know that,” Regulus spat.

She let out a sarcastic laugh. “Better? Better like who? Like you?”

“Definitely,” he retorted.

“Go to hell! I spent years of my life following you around like your damn keychain, hoping you’d realize one day how much I liked you! And you knew! You knew I liked you and you just took advantage of it! And now that I’m finally trying something with someone, you come up with this bullshit?” Now he wasn’t the only one angry.

“It’s not ‘someone’! It’s my brother, my idiot brother. You knew I hated him! How can you believe all his crap in just two weeks!?” Regulus raised his voice.

“Well, in two weeks he showed me he’s better than you could ever be in four years!”

Regulus suddenly leaned forward, getting in her face, which made her back away, scared.

Noticing the girl's expression, Regulus felt as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over his head. She thought he was going to hurt her.

“Hey—listen, I—” Regulus tried to speak.

“Go to hell.” The girl pushed him by the shoulders and walked away, leaving him alone in the middle of the hallway with nothing but the storm of regret thundering in his head.

───❃•❃•❃───

After the fight with Regulus, the girl headed to the covered bridge. She loved it there; almost no one ever came by, it had a beautiful view, and sometimes she felt that even the air was purer, more magical.

She felt really bad and wondered if it was wrong to start dating Sirius. Maybe she shouldn't have; after all, he was her best friend's brother, or at least Regulus was supposed to be.

But Sirius was nice, and not just physically—though he was incredibly good-looking—but he was also pleasant to be around. He understood her and made her laugh. She felt comfortable, like she didn’t have to try so hard to make him like her, as she always did with Regulus.

“You look very mysterious there,” Sirius appeared behind her with a smile, looking at the girl with her arms resting on the bridge.

She laughed, as she always did when he was near.

“I’m thinking about whether I should jump,” she joked.

“Don’t say stupid things,” Sirius laughed too, coming closer to her side.

She smiled at him without saying anything. She wasn’t in a very good mood.

“I guess you fought with my brother,” he said, looking at her.

“It doesn’t matter; it was going to happen sooner or later.” She rolled her eyes.

Sirius sighed. “I don’t know; he’s weird. We don’t get along.”

“Really? You don’t say,” the girl said sarcastically while laughing.

“I’m sorry if he made you feel bad, okay? I doubt he’s aware of what he’s doing.”

“I know, I’m sorry too. We were supposed to go to the Black Lake.” She remembered.

“Yeah... I don’t regret that part.” Sirius glanced away with a chuckle.

“Hey!” She gave him a light hit on the shoulder, scolding him while laughing.

“He’s immature. Why should I be glad you spent time with him when you could have a much better time with me?” He moved closer to her.

“Oh, really?”

“Of course. You know it.” Sirius smiled at her.

“I know you’re a narcissist.” She laughed.

He rolled his eyes, laughing. “You know we have a date pending, right?” He reminded her.

“Mmm, no, I think I’ll tell Regulus to go to the lake instead.” She joked, and he grabbed her by the waist.

“Don’t joke about that.” He said with a smile.

“I’m not joking.” She began to walk away from him, laughing as she freed herself from his grasp.

“Hey!” He called indignantly, catching up and taking her hand.

She turned around and kissed him on the cheek.

“Let’s go to the greenhouse, okay?” She whispered to him. He looked at her, entranced.

“Sure, yeah, of course,” he stammered. The girl laughed at this and led him as they walked.

She hoped there would be a lot to do in the greenhouse so they could spend a lot of time together.

Either way, she was sure they would be spending a lot of time together from now on.

[gotranting]

Not alone anymore - Remus Lupin x female Reader

If you came across this before, it is the same fanfic, I just moved to my side tumblr)

It started out as me writing down some random prompts. Then I actually expanded it...and this is the result. It's also the first time I wrote something like this, and it is for my own amusement. But maybe someone will like it I don't know. The whole story is written in some strange form. Maybe I'll do something with it at some point.

There is a mention of sexual assault. Very brief.

You lived in the muggle world for quite many a years now. Graduated Hogwarts a few years ago you were finding your way at 21 years old. You went to the muggles in order to enjoy some simpler things for a while. Buy yourself a gramophone for your little cottage. Walk your dog through the forest surrounding it. Pick herbs for your tea collection. A simple life. No magic. At least not for fighting. You were 21 years old after all, magic still came in handy. Even if you casted simple charms to clean up the mess when you were too lazy to do so on your own.

When it comes to defense you've learned how to fight the muggle way. You found your way around daggers. You didn't have to use them often. It just felt safer having something around.

With the return of Voldemort, Moody found you again and recruited you into the Order of the Phoenix. What peace you had was over. You and your dog were to come to the Grimmauld place number 12.

Having spent so much time only fighting in the muggle ways, you needed to remember how to duel as you once did before. What you once learned never left you, but some practice would be good. Remus was appointed to train with you.

It didn't take long. As the lessons went you were coming back to your former self. Remus was a good duel partner. You had to admit you missed dueling.

And lesson by lesson, you learned more about each other. It's the simple things at the beginning. Which house you were both in during your Hogwarts years. Favourite subjects. Favourite moments from your time in Hogwarts. It came naturally you suppose. Talking with him. At times you were surprised how easy it actually was, after shutting yourself out for so long. But he listened. And if Remus saw you needed time trust him, he did not push you. If you wanted to talk, he would be there. If not, he found himself sharing some of the mischief the Marauders got into (there were loads of those stories). When there was nothing to be said, you were at peace just dueling with each other – working on improving your spellwork.

I suppose those moments became something you both started to look forward to more and more as months went by. Not because there were feelings right away. Simply because in those moments... after a long time of being alone you both found peace, while having someone near. Remus kept himself away from society you see. What could he offer to them? How long could he keep up the mask, before a possible friend found out what he was? Before they inevitably ran away. One friend betrayed them all. Another was gone. Sirius was there but he had enough of his own things to deal with. Nevertheless he was the only one Remus let closer in. You were a surprise.

As for you, you did not let anyone in either. You enjoyed your solitude too much. Besides, letting someone in was always a risk. You did a good enough job at pushing people away. Letting someone in meant they would leave at some point. You would let them in only to lose them some day. That kind of pain was not needed.

Do not take these words as the sole reason for your isolation. As I've said, you were happy on your own. Luna grew very fond of you once, you two met. You fought for the world out there, you would never shut the reality out. But when you could, you were in your own world. So he was a surprise to you as well.

I do not know when the feelings started. Maybe it was the first time, Remus found himself wanting to tell you more than a funny story from his younger years. Maybe it was the first time you didn't feel annoyed at the thought of having someone accompany you and your dog in your evening walk through the woods. Maybe, while you thought of that in late October, there was a brief scent of chocolate that made itself at home in your mind.

No, that can't be it.

It can't be the longer gazes when the other wasn't looking. You must have been distracted by something, and it just happened that you were looking at Remus at the time. And it wasn't that he found the joy on your face endearing, while you were looking at the orange leaves through the window. It was just nice to see someone enjoying the little moments in life. That is all. So he thought nothing of it, when he found himself bringing you a few rosehips bound with some maple leaves from one of his walks. The world has enough darkness as it is. Why not do something small for someone else?

It is not as if Remus did not do that for other people. However, he spent over an hour thinking if that little bouquet would be to your liking.

No that can't be the moment you two felt something.

And it wasn't that one time during your duel. See, if you are to fight with daggers, the stance is different than one would have when using a wand. And you fought long enough, that the slightly hunched postion stuck with you. You did not think of anything particular when Remus asked if he can correct your posture. It was strange though that you did not feel threatened with someone in such a close proximity to you. You did not think much  when he came up behind you. You did not think much when one of his hands went to your shoulder. The other went on your middle back, so that he could straighten you up. You did not think much of it when you both stood there longer than you were meant to. If there was a hitch in your breathing, it was from tiredness. If he wanted to move closer, it was...comfort. Alone for so long, when one does not want to be, it leaves you seeking out some contact from a person you see as a. Friend. That is all. Neither of you noticed that his hand now rested near your own by your side. And when you did, he muttered a sorry. He knew you were not fond of contact. „You stupid fool. Must you frighten everyone away?“ 

Remus had no idea, you were on the verge of turning around. What would happen then can now be only left for wondering.

Padfoot was the first to see something changed. Shortly after, Molly would follow. Remus could only stare at you in awe that many times before Padfoot noticed his friend was acting strange. He knew him for 27 years, and yet he had never seen him so flustered as it was when you came to the kitchen to make yourself some tea. Poor soul could not decide if the newspapers in his hands were the most interesting thing, or your humming while waiting for the kettle to boil. He settled on reading the same sentence for the next 15 minutes. Needless to say, Sirius had the most wonderful time that day. Who would have known you could make a person miss the steps with only a mention of a name. It felt as if they were back in Hogwarts all over again. For now, serious conversations will have to wait, Sirius concluded. Some harmless fun first. Then he would see if this was only a stronger fondness. Or if it was something Moony would have a harder time accepting.

Molly did not have much time for motherly questioning. You were all at Grimmauld that evening. Except for Remus. For the last three weeks you were all  making plans on how to get more people on your side. Voldemort had an army. And the Order was at a high disadvantage. Hagrid went to persuade the giants. Remus went to persuade the werewolves. Five days now, there was no word. On the sixth day, Hagrid returned. Not with the news you were hoping for. Seventh day, there was no word from Remus.

Yes, you knew Remus was a werewolf. The members of the Order have to trust each other. Keeping secrets would only end up dividing you further. With the small number of you already, you could not risk it. Nevertheless, you found out accidentally. Dumbledore was supposed to brief you on it before the third full moon after you joined the Order. Snape however decided to remind everyone of what Remus was during one of the meetings. You were just showing Mr Weasley one of your knives, discussing whether you could enchant it, when Snape mentioned it would be wise to keep it by your side for the next few days.

„Is there someone particular I should  keep an eye out for?“

„Not someone. Something. If I were you, I would find a poison for that knife. I'm sure I could brew you one to repel a werewolf. We already have one monster, it would be a shame you succumbed to the same fate.“

„You fucking bastard..“

„Sirius that is enough.“

That was your introduction to Remus's lycanthropy. Despite living in the muggle world, you knew the general attitude towards werewolves. Snape just reminded you of it. Thinking back to that day, you still remember how it took days for Remus to start dueling with you again. Days of trying to tell him that you have seen enough monsters to recognize one.

„I did kill monsters with these knives before. There was one that thought how it would be fun to go after a girl trying to get home in the middle of the night. He thought it would be fun to put a hand over my mouth while feeling me up. He even laughed while doing it. Stopped laughing when he felt something warm leaking from his side.“

That was the first time, she told him something more than harmless bits and pieces of her life.

„It was not the first time I killed a monster you know. There is a reason I went to the muggle world. I've spent a long time fighting monsters. I had to take a break, because I wanted to find something else that will drive me in life. But magic, or muggle world, there are always monsters. I just changed a weapon“, she said. When he finally met her eyes she looked at him for a while before uttering: „I will not use those knives against you. I do not plan on poisoning them, because I need them for those who are a threat to this world. I cannot convince you, no. But just because the people around present you as a monster is not enough for me to believe you are one. Even if you believe their words. There are werewolves who committed all sorts of crimes. I know of Greyback. It is not lycanthropy that made him like that.“  After thinking for a few moments she added: „I know you've done this on your own for a long enough time. But if you ever need anything let me know. I do not plan on forcing you to be in the same room as me. Remember though, that is your decision, not mine. If you need anything, I will be here.“

She left him sitting at the table that night staring at his own hands. It took him four more days to process it all. On the fifth, they started dueling again. I guess that conversation also contributed to him beginning to look at her for five seconds longer. And longer as days went by.

Eighth day. No one expected him to collapse upon entering the house. Sirius and Mr Weasley were quick to bring Remus to one of the sofas. No one gave a damn that the cushions were soaking up the blood. Despite me saying that she was in her own world, she could snap out of it in a matter of seconds. Seeing the slash on his chest and on his neck left no time to stand around.

It feels like a blur. You are doing everything automatically after so many times. Bring the gauzes. Press hard on the wounds. Sirius kept him from falling asleep. Cut what little remained of the shirt. Assess the wound and the depth of it. Looks like claws. Infected. Bring more gauze now. „Sirius press harder on the neck or he will bleed out!“ „I used the spell, why is he still bleeding!?“

„Sirius hold him down!“

I do not know how much time passed. They've managed to sew the wounds in the end. But he was weak from travelling and from the fight. The werewolves will not join either side.

As Remus rested, she did not leave his side. Not even Molly could order her to do so.

Molly found her reminding his sleeping form how she would be there if he needed her. For the second time his hand covered hers. There was a murmured „thank you“ and „stay“.

Maybe the two did not see it yet. Molly did. Sirius did. It was not a simple fondness. For now though, all that mattered was that Remus is alive. For now he needs to rest. And you're there with him. That is enough.

[sparky-is-spiders]

Jonelias Week Day 1 (Which is definitely today I swear), for the prompt "No Powers AU"

This one... maybe got away from me. This is actually only the first half of what I've written so far, and probably the first third overall! I do plan to post this to Ao3 at some point (although I suspect I'll need to do a lengthy round of editing first lmao). It's some very self-indulgent nonsense, which is a lot of what I write, but now it's getting put in the main tags of a ship during said ship's event week. So. It may also be a little bit "aromantic dude tries to figure out what having a crush is supposed to be like." Also a lot of "dude who took Principals of Accounting once pretending it knows what office work is like." Anyway, quick warning before we begin, and the rest will be under the read-more:

Stalking (played for laughs) for most of the fic.

Just. A weird amount of obsession.

Ok that should be it I think. Fic under the cut.

Jon's new boss was, quite possibly, the most boring man in the world. He wore the same outfit every day (pale dress shirt with dark unpatterned tie and gray slacks and matching suit jacket). The only personal effect in his entire office was a potted plant on the windowsill (some sort of succulent, and definitely fake). He always arrived to work exactly half an hour early and left exactly half an hour late. The only hobby he appeared to show any interest in was scheduling, which he seemed to find both deeply engaging and remarkably irritating. In fact, he was apparently so opposed to the idea of mixing his work with his personal life that he might as well not have existed beyond the walls of their office. Jon had never been more fascinated by anyone else in his entire life.

It stared with the transfer to the accounting department. Elias had met with him personally to get him acclimated to his new role. He had been blandly polite, and blandly handsome, and Jon had stopped listening to him about five minutes into their conversation. It was probably bad form, really. The software Elias was droning on and on about sounded like it was about to become a central feature of his days. He really should've been paying attention to it. Instead, he pretended to make eye contact while zeroing in on the top of Bouchard's forehead (a very useful trick, really) and became inordinately focused on the small lock of hair that had fallen across it. It was terribly distracting, and Jon had wondered how he hadn't noticed it. And then he wondered how it had come to be there. And then he had built up an entire story involving a murder, an illicit affair with the assistant director of marketing, and the potted succulent. And then he had noticed Bouchard eying him with what could've been suspicion or amusement or irritation or nothing whatsoever, and had been forced to rapidly pretend to care about their company's bad debt expense policy. Bouchard had indulged him, and had spoken with the calm authority of someone who knew what they were talking about, and had even managed to avoid being overtly condescending (a feat forever out of Jon's reach). At the end he had shaken Jon's hand (with a nice, firm grip), and had told him "I'm looking forward to working with you, I'm sure you'll make a wonderful member of our team." Jon had left that meeting with a mind shrouded in a fog of boredom and a faint sensation of warmth which he decided was best attributed to curiosity and left otherwise unexamined. Over the next few weeks, Jon had tried to subtly inquire into Bouchard's life. At the time, he had been naively under the impression that surely he must have let slip something about his life; some odd quirk or funny story or harmless bit of information which could justify Jon's blooming curiosity. Unfortunately; "He lives in Chelsea, I'm pretty sure?" (Sasha) "He's currently in a meeting. Honestly Jon, you'll be better off just sending an email. Now can I please get back to work?" (Rosie, probably lying about the meeting) "He actually lives here in the office. Set up a cozy little home away from home in one of the storage closets and sneaks out at night to raid the canteen. And he's having an affair with the assistant director of marketing." (Tim, definitely lying (but maybe a mind reader? Also, full of brilliant ideas for places Jon could maybe set up a cot whenever he needs to stay overnight)) Clearly, Jon would have to take matters into his own hands if he wanted answers. That was fine. It could be his own private little research project.

Jon liked to think that the entire thing had actually been quite reasonable, and that he had acted within the bounds of their pre-established relationship as employee and supervisor. Surely any rational person had to realize that nobody could possibly be that uninteresting. Anyone would be curious as to what dark secrets Bouchard his behind his well-tailored suits and polite, professional demeanor. … perhaps most rational persons would not meticulously record the movements, behavior, and daily appearance of their colleague in a discreet notebook (with annotations, color-coding, and graphs where appropriate), but Jon had always prided himself on his dedication to research and understanding. So far Jon had collected frustratingly little data. If Bouchard was hiding anything, it wasn't apparent from his schedule (see pages 8-13, figure 2.b), his eating habits (see page 22), or his lone plant (see page five, figure 1.c). His breaks did seem specially timed to avoid other people (and he appeared not to engage in many social behaviors generally), but he never acted irritated or otherwise unhappy to encounter one of his subordinates, so Jon wasn't entirely sure if it was deliberate avoidance or simple coincidence. Really, the only truly odd thing about him was his inexplicable interest in Jon. That very morning, for example, Bouchard had stopped by his cubicle for a fifteen minute discussion on the upcoming Annual Team Luncheon, an event Jon had never attended before (due to an annual migraine which coincidentally always happened to occur on the exact date of the luncheon), which Jon did not plan to attend, and which honestly sounded like some sort of violation of the Geneva Convention. The topic itself was not especially odd (small talk was an archaic tradition which had stubbornly clung on in every workplace Jon had ever set foot in), but Bouchard's low propensity for inter-office socialization combined with the fact that he had both chosen Jon specifically as his conversational partner was… highly suspicious. Most people who encountered Jon inevitably concluded that he was more effort than he was worth (an attitude Jon mostly appreciated).

And of course, there had also been their interaction two days ago, when Elias had paused briefly to inquire as to whether Jon would be staying late, and what he was working on, and if he might perhaps consider heading home soon because there was only so much overtime they could pay him. Or on Friday, when he had managed to hold two separate conversations with Jon where very little was said. Honestly, Jon somewhat suspected that Elias had spoken to him more in the past few weeks than he had spoken to any of their colleagues for the entire time Jon had been there to observe him. Most of Jon's notes were now dedicated to their interactions. From his cot in the unused storage room (which was indeed a good place to stay overnight, thank you Tim), he could jot down everything he recalled about their interaction; it had begun at 8:32 and had concluded at 8:47; the weather was warm and slightly humid, although the office interior remained at a comfortable 21 °C. Bouchard's shirt had been a nice, cool gray, which complemented the silver of his eyes. Jon (who had been busy digging for his favorite pen (the ink was a lovely deep green color, and it was usually kept on the left side of the top desk drawer, and Jon had no idea where else it could have possibly gone)) had settled on "irritation" as his tone, which Bouchard either had not noticed or had not cared enough to acknowledge. He had easily dominated the conversation, and Jon could admit in the sanctity of his research journal that his voice had been soothing enough to cool away some of Jon's annoyance. He wrote his conclusion: Subject behaved near-identically in tone, posture, body language, and apparent mood as he has in all previous communications. Subject displayed no strong thoughts or opinions on subject of discussion nor conversational partner. Interaction was pleasant but slightly dull, no new information discovered. It was almost exactly the same as every previous conclusion. Jon had to admit, so many months with so little progress was… discouraging. He shifted on the narrow mattress and winced when his movements aggravated his backache (which was surely unrelated to his frequent occupancy of the cot). It was becoming more and more apparent that the only possible solution was to do some actual, direct investigation. His first idea (break into Bouchard's office) seemed a tad far (also, he didn't know how to pick locks). His second idea (follow him home) seemed a stretch further than the previous one, and was perhaps best saved as a last resort. His third idea (something something computers? (perhaps "idea" was a bit generous)) would almost certainly require Sasha, who would have questions Jon couldn't answer. He flipped idly through his notes, half-skimming, half-thinking. It was only when his gaze landed on figure 2.b, Weekly Schedule of E. Bouchard, that he actually came up with something reasonable. Something actionable.

[cheesecakethots]

i can just imagine a very lonely and sad reader scrolling through internet forums and random group chats trying to find some companionship. even at its more superficial level and with that “friendship” barely lasting a few conversations before it’s back to ghosting, yet you’re desperate to cover up this emptiness that you’re willing to take whatever you can have.

then this is where chrollo comes into the picture. can’t really get into the logistics of it, but at some point you’re in some deep dark part of the internet. somewhere you’re not supposed to be in, but you’re feeling daring that day and an extra level of misery. suddenly you stumble upon a listing of an obscure book published a long time ago, somewhere on the black market that’s going for an absurd amount of money. you feel confident enough to comment something like, “a million for this shit? a freshly harvested liver isn’t even worth this. lower the price.” you’re itching for a fight. then in just a few hours, you didn’t expect to debate about books and other eye rolling shit over the internet with some dude who thinks he’s better than you.

he, chrollo but you don’t know him yet, is so pretentious you want to gouge your eyes out. but out of spite you are not backing down. he’s debating you on proust or whatever his name is. you don’t read a whole lot anyway, so you’re pulling out of your ass. he finds you funny, witty, and endearing in your own weirdly charismatic way. and you find him irritating because he never shuts up. it’s this weird dynamic of back and forth banter that has no apparent end. should you be glad that in the years you’ve been searching for a friend, this one has managed to stuck with you this far along? how long has it been since you two have started talking? a few weeks at least, and the argument is still fresh and it’s about philosophy now, which is even more mind-numbing. but this guy knows how to keep a conversation going at least. you feel more annoyed that this asshole is the only person willing to talk to you, instead of any other rando with manners and actual substance to their personality. but you can’t really complain, at least you have one friend.

it’s mostly him who hits you up, not you. and it’s mostly at unusual times. he has a pattern of texting you around midnight to early in the morning, even if you tell him not to disturb you a billion times, so you don’t respond right away. but when you do, he’s sent a myriad of long paragraphs of some shit you can’t really bother to comprehend. you respond with and eye rolling emoji and this headache responds instantaneously. it’s no brainer that sooner or later, he’ll be interested enough to track you down and find every piece of information about you.

anon go write a fic NOW

i love this sm like becoming kinda frenemies with chrollo online, seeing him as this dude who is really annoying but also charming in a way? you’re constantly drawn back to conversations with him because they’re just so enriching, especially compared to the boring chats you’ve had with the very few ‘friends’ you have.

soon enough he starts debating over things you like. huh, he also reads that really obscure manga that has a total of 100 reads? cool! oh wow, he’s played that one game you’ve played so much you can practically quote it word for word? nice!

it gets weirder the more you talk, but you don’t really notice all that much, and if you do you choose to ignore it. he’s one of the first real friends you’ve had in a long time.

you’ll come back from work into your lonely and quite shabby apartment, making sure to place locks on your door. it’s a bad neighbourhood. huh, it’s a bit chilly. you could’ve sworn you shut the window? well… nothing looks to be stolen. weird.

you’ll sit down, and ready up your old and dying laptop, grinning a little despite the tiredness in your bones and bags under your eyes. the friend you speak to online, chrollo, is usually on around this time. it’s always nice to have a chat with him after you get in. you seemingly haven’t managed to rile him up, but you swear you’re getting close.

just got back from work. what you were saying about that passage in chapter 27 is totally wrong, btw. you should maybeeee get ur facts straight before trying to debate with me about it >:)

you miss the sound of a soft chime behind you after you send the message, opening up a streaming service so you can watch an episode of something before bed.

a message pops up on your screen.

how about a debate in person, [name]?

your eyebrows crinkle together. what a weirdo.

as you put on an episode, your monitor goes black for just a moment, but that’s all you need to see the reflection of a figure looming behind you.

[pasta-in-the-pudding]

I loved the acne scar insecurity headcanons! I Hope it this isn’t a problem but could you do the acne scar insecurity with eyeless Jack and bloody painter!!

(IF YOU DO IT TYY) 

Oooh!! Ive never gotten to write for Helen before!! I have a soft spot in my heart for that guy <33

Thank you so much for requesting!!

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

Eyeless Jack

As someone who is also very insecure, he understands you having insecurities of your own

However, he will try his hardest to get you out of that headspace

Explaining how acne is natural, and nothing to be ashamed about

He might take a more romantic approach as well, calling your scars "constellations", trying to see what pictures he can make out

If he were to find you picking at the scars and looking at them with a displeased face, he would chuckle a bit

"What'chu laughing at?" You ask, a smile forming on your lips

"You look so focused, my love" he purrs smoothly, coming to sit beside you on your bed and taking your hands, holding them to his chest

You sigh and cuddle into his chest, allowing him to cradle your head and press many kisses to your hair

He then brings your head up to look at him, his sharp claws gently booping each scar

"You look like a starry sky, love. Oh my, is that the big dipper?" He squints and leans in closer to your face as if trying to get a better look

"Haa. Haa. Very funny, jack" you say with a grin, swatting his face away

He kisses your forehead and settles down, placing your head into the crook of his nack and wrapping his legs around your own

"If they bother you that much I'm sure there's some form of cosmetic surgery you could get" he mumbles

"Would you be ok with that?" You ask him

"It doesn't really matter what I want, dear. It's your face we're talking about"

You smile and kiss his neck "maybe"

Bloody Painter

He finds your scars quite beautiful, actually

Helen's art style involves seeing beauty in almost everything

A lot of his works include disturbing things, like death, sadness, natural deformities, etc

He follows the motto "art is supposed to comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable" to a T.

So when you open up about your insecurities to him, his first instinct is to paint it, and turn it into something you perceive as beautiful

And so he spends many days, working tirelessly on this new art piece of his, making sure to catch every scar, mole, birth mark, etc

If you want to take part in this piece, he will ask you to model for him!

He will put you in a comfortable pose, you are not allowed to have makeup or any skin product on

"Hold still, my sweet, I'm almost done with this piece and then we can take a break"

But if you would rather it be a suprise, he will use a picture of you as reference (as well as adding his own artistic flare)

And he will give it to you as a gift!

The painting itself will be filled with reds and yellows and browns, in the middle will be you with your eyes peacefully closed, each scar being bright stars glowing and bringing some light to the otherwise dark painting

Other than painting I feel like he would love your face in general, just because he thinks its so beautiful <333

Again, he finds beauty in things others do not, so even if you hate your acne scars i can guarantee he will love your face

[nyoomfruits]

Ohhh what’s give me a taste (of what it's like to be next to you) ? I love all your story’s by the way😍

ITS THE POPSTAR LANDO FAKE DATING AU which i will definitely get to at some point because like. it really is quite fun. anyway here's a little snip of lando/oscar banter :)

Lando, thankfully, is still down, which is how Oscar finds himself in his own living room three days later, pacing in front of the couch currently occupied by the man of the hour himself. 

“Do you have downstairs neighbors?” Lando asks. He’s fully sprawled over Oscar’s couch, feet tucked under one of the cushions and head pillowed on the arm rest. At least he’s had the decency to take off his shoes.

“Hm?” Oscar says, a little absentmindedly as he makes his way from the bookcase holding some of his helmets back to the fireplace he literally never uses.

“Downstairs neighbors,” Lando repeats. When Oscar gives him a blank look, Lando continues, “I just think it would be funny, if you wore down the floor enough and you fell through it, to imagine you ending up on some poor guy’s dinner table.”

Oscar glares at him. “You’re not taking this seriously,” he chastises.

“Or,” Lando says, pointing at him. “Consider; you’re taking this too seriously.”

“This is our future, Lando,” Oscar bites. “I’m pretty sure I’m taking this just seriously enough.”

Lando shrugs. “What’s the worst that can happen? We break up? That’s the intended plan eventually anyway, isn’t it? We just go on a few fake dates, act madly in love, easy peasy lemon easy.”

“That’s not how the saying goes,” Oscar points out. “Plus, I don’t. I’ve never done this before, okay?”

“A PR relationship? Me neither, mate. Can’t say it’s that common, really. Unless you’re a Kardashian, maybe.” Lando’s fiddling with his bracelets again.

“I mean date,” Oscar says, finally giving up his mini marathon through the living room and falling down on the couch next to Lando.

Lando’s head shoots up. “Wait, really? Never?”

Oscar shakes his head. “I was in the closet, so. No. Didn’t want to risk it.”

“Oh,” Lando says, “Yeah, no of course.”

“Have you?” Oscar asks, hearing a voice suspiciously like his mum’s whispering to him he has to at least try now that he’s committed to making this work.

“Been in a relationship?” Lando snorts. “I mean, yeah. Enough to write like five albums about.”

Five. Oscar vows to himself that after this meeting is over to listen to at least one of them, maybe. For research purposes. It’s going to look a little awkward maybe, if they do start dating and Oscar can’t name a single song by his supposed boyfriend.

“Well, okay, you be the expert on the dating part, then,” Oscar says, letting his head fall back against the backrest of the couch. “For the fake part, we need rules.”

Lando snorts. “Romance,” he says, doing little jazz hands.  

Oscar glares at him. “No kissing,” he says. That’s what’s got him into this fucking mess in the first place, and there’s no reason to. It’ll be easier, he thinks, if he keeps a little distance between him and Lando. A nice safe barrier so Oscar can just pretend they’re, like, coworkers. Or something.

“Boring,” Lando says. “But fine. What about hand holding?”

“Hand holding is fine.”

“Hugging?”

“Sure.”

“Cuddling?”

“In what scenario would we cuddle in public?”

“Covering all our bases, Oscar.”

“Fine. Sure, cuddling is okay.”

“Linking our pinkies together.”

“That’s. Isn’t that just holding hands?” Oscar frowns at Lando.

Lando smiles serenely at him. “Like I said, covering all our bases.”

Oscar squints. “See, now I feel like you’re just making fun of me.”

“I would never,” Lando says, widening his eyes at Oscar in what Oscar is pretty sure is an attempt at puppy eyes. “It’s just, that’s a lot of rules. Next you’re going to tell me we need a safe word.”

Oscar considers this. “That’s. That’s not a terrible idea actually. For if either if us feels uncomfortable.”

“I was joking,” Lando says.

“Sure,” Oscar says, shrugs. But you’re right, so. “How do you feel about fish?”

“Gross, disgusting, why do you hate me,” Lando says.

Oscar snorts. “As a safe word, Lando,” he says.

Lando, seemingly resigned to the fact that they’re going to have to come up with a safe word, considers this. “I don’t think it would work, it comes up too much in casual conversation, I think. It has to be something weird, something completely out of left field.”

Oscar glances around the living room, his eyes falling on the stack of shoes near the door. “What about thongs?”

Lando’s eyebrows shoot up. “I mean. Kinky.”

Oscar groans, buries his face in his hands, curses the differences between British English and Australian English. “The shoes, Lando. The shoes. In Australia you call flipflops thongs.”

“Why,” Lando says. “That makes no sense. But sure, fine, whatever you want. Our safe word can be shoe thongs.”

“That’s not-“ Oscar starts, but cuts himself off, shakes his head. “Yeah, no sure. Let’s go with that. Shoe thongs.”

“Great,” Lando says, clapping his hands. “Now we’ve got that sorted, what are you doing tomorrow?”