#I'LL BE DONE IN A MINUTE JUST LET ME HAVE THIS

[captain-huggy-bear]

Reader yelling at Quinn infront of the boys because he didn't give her a goodbye kiss and them making fun of him (all in good fun)

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

"Bye, baby, I'll see you after the game," Quinn smiles at you as he says goodbye and you're already leaning your head back, lips pursed waiting for your usual goodbye kiss when he just...walks away...you blink for a minute, taken aback before your brows furrow and you cross your arms, eyes tracking him as he turns his back to you. Following him as he moves towards Garland and some of the other guys.

You let out a purposefully loud cough low in your throat in an attempt to get Quinn's attention, but he's already in an animated conversation with Conor, laughing at something Conor has said. He doesn't turn your way, doesn't even appear to have heard you. It only makes your frown grow, a pout starting to develop because there was no way you were leaving without your goodbye kiss. It simply wasn't happening.

You try one more time to get his attention politely because you are nothing if not polite in your efforts to get the goodbye kiss that you are entitled to. You were raised correctly after all. Moving a few steps closer before you cough again, louder this time, some of the other Canucks looking in your direction but not the one you want. Kiefer and Tyler both starting to grin at the pout on your lips, the fold of your arms, your clear displeasure with your boyfriend, both knowing they were about to witness a highlight of their day.

You take a deep breath in, collecting enough air so that you're next words come out as a shout, loud enough that there is no possibly way Quinn won't hear you.

"Quinitin Jerome Hughes!"

He stops, freezes, turning slowly towards you with wide eyes. He looks as if he's done something terrible, unsure why you're yelling his full government name at him when he just say goodbye to you. The rest of his team watch on with various emotions ranging from their own wide eyed fear of you to amusement, holding back a laugh. Kiefer in particular is biting his lips hard, resisting the urge with everything in him.

"Baby?" If he sounds mildly terrified that's because he is, unsure of what he's done to deserve his full name being called.

"Don't baby me! Aren't you forgetting something?" You give Quinn an expectant look because of course he'll know what he forgot, right? There's no way he'd possibly forget now.

He blinks at you slowly, once, twice before answering unsure and confused, "I love you?"

"My goodbye kiss, Quintin!" You scoff at him, arms dropping to your sides heavily at his apparent disregard for your most important of goodbye rituals.

"Shit, sorry, baby..." He's scrambling over to you despite the laughs behind him as the team watch their captain practically trip over his own feet to get to you.

Still, your upset is all but forgotten when his hands cup your cheeks, melting into his touch as he leans forward to kiss you. It's not as brief as your usual goodbye kiss, like he knows he has to make it up to you, like he knows a quick peck won't be sufficient.

You ignore the wolf whistles, the shouts, the laughs as he kisses you, smiling into the kiss as your arms wrap around his neck to pull him closer. Because this is a goodbye kiss. Lingering, longing, firmly and insistent, the sort of kiss that leaves you a little breathless when Quinn finally pulls back, forehead pressed to your own.

"Forgive me, baby?"

"You're forgiven."

[tsunodaradio]

but i'll do it for you ⛐ 𝐎𝐏𝟖𝟏

oscar has a soft spot for you. (or: the one where oscar does karaoke for the first time.)

ꔮ starring: oscar piastri x reader. ꔮ word count: 0.8k. ꔮ includes: fluff, romance. profanity. title from keshi's soft spot. ꔮ commentary box: wrote this in one sitting after i saw this sportbible video. this is part of my soft spot mini-series. 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“You’ve got no idea what you’ve done, have you?” 

You’re usually much more adept at seeing through Lando’s bullshit. Today, though, you’re thrown off by the suddenness of his accusation. You shoot Lando a look of mild exasperation, and he responds by jerking his head in the direction of his co-driver. 

“He’s never done that before,” says Lando. 

“Done what?” 

“Karaoke.” 

Your eyes flit over to Oscar, who’s in the middle of re-filling his water bottle. A disbelieving laugh escapes you. “You’re kidding,” you say to Lando. “Who the hell lives this long without doing karaoke?” 

“Oscar fuckin’ Piastri, it seems.” Lando sips from the drink, his lips curling around the mouth of his glass. He’s always had a penchant for joking around, but there’s something about the sharp glint in his eye that tells you this might not be one of those instances. 

“Well, he’s done it now. Y’know, he wouldn’t do it for me—” The Brit pauses. Lets the words sink in. “But I guess he’s willing to do it for someone.” 

The implication isn’t lost on you; Lando Norris wasn’t really known for his subtlety. The tips of your ears burn red as you mumble a low “sod off,” refocusing your attention on the McLaren race engineer now belting an Adele song. 

Gracefully, Lando takes your advice and leaves you alone. He shoots you a final conspiratorial wink. You resist the urge to flip him off.

As much as you don’t want to read into it, you can’t help the way your mind whirrs with thoughts. Oscar Piastri— for all his straightforwardness— was a puzzle that you’ve yet to complete, and all the scattered pieces lay out in front of you now. 

How Oscar hadn’t really been keen on going out tonight, but you asked once and he booked the two of you a cab. (Not without sighing about it, though, and mumbling on the entire car ride to the venue. The point still stands: He came out tonight. 

For you? No. You shake your head. That’d be stupid to assume.) 

Oscar, who seemed a bit flustered when you asked him for his go-to karaoke song. Oscar, who spent an arduous amount of time scrolling through his phone before finally even trying to pick something out of the book. (Lando claims that his co-driver had been Googling ‘Songs To Sing At Karaoke’, but you’ve never really trusted Lando when it came to things like this.) 

Oscar hadn’t really known how to navigate the song book— kept mixing up the index system, not knowing what to look for. He took too long, too, when it came to punching in the numbers on the machine. Like each digit was a step towards a death sentence of some sorts. 

And when he eventually did come up to the microphone, the room had gone crazy. You thought everybody was just being supportive, but it had struck you as odd. The way everybody filmed the entirety of Oscar’s off-tune rendition of The Final Countdown; the entire five minutes, immortalized on everyone’s phones like he were some popstar you all paid money to see. 

You look up, look for him. He’s still across the room, chugging water like his debut karaoke performance had taken the breath out of him more than any race. 

But when he catches your gaze, that hint of a smile tugs at his face. The one not everybody is privileged to be on the receiving end of. 

As Lando jumps up to the microphone for a Kendrick Lamar track, Oscar walks back over to you. The couch is big enough for him to sit a little further down, but he opts to be negligibly close. His side against yours; your knees pressed together. He gingerly takes one half of the song book, resting it between both your thighs. 

“Have you picked a song yet?” he asks, pitching his voice low. It’s just quiet enough that you have to lean in a bit to hear him, undoubtedly making it look like the two of you are in your own bubble. 

The pieces of his affection, the ones you’ve denied to acknowledge until now—

“We should do one together,” you blurt out. 

Oscar pauses in the middle of leafing through the song book. His thumb absentmindedly rubs at the corner of the page, like he might somehow find the answer to everything in between Maroon 5’s She Will Be Loved and keshi’s Soft Spot.

“Is that something you… want?” he stammers. (As if he’s scared to get his hopes up.) 

“Is it something you want?” 

At your question, Oscar turns to look at you. Really look at you. You feel his gaze despite the dimness of the karaoke room.

His eyes linger on your face as he answers. “It is,” he says softly, “something I want.” 

— the puzzle falls into place. ⛐

[californiannostalgia]

"After seven years on your television screen, Shawn Hunter moved to New York City, where he became an alcoholic. No, I'm kidding. He married the love of his life, Angela Moore. That's not true, either, but he did become a world-famous poet. Actually, last I heard he was the East Coast representative of The Center, a fundamentalist cult.

You may have picked up on the fact that I'm making all of this up. The dark truth is... Shawn has been locked in my basement for 12 years. It's really best for both of us. I'm able to move on (well, except when people confuse me for him), and, as a fictional character, he's much safer down there.

Let's be honest, more Boy Meets World would only further ruin his life. Being The Dramatic Storyline in a 22-minute comedy series takes its toll. It was never easy for him to live a sitcom existence, where poverty can be a punch line, where alcoholic parents can be funny, where no matter how much you learn — no matter how much Mr. Feeny sets you straight — you come back the next week, making the same old mistakes. And the laugh track roars.

Shawn was never meant for that world. He was too dark, too self-indulgent, too whiny. He was a downer! How many times can one character experience loss? Give a heart-wrenching monologue? Go on a soul-searching road trip? Conversely, he'd never survive another genre. Despite his bad-boy posturing, perhaps summed up best by his faux-retro, pseudo-biker look, Shawn wouldn't have lasted minutes in a drama. He may have acted out with some hijinks, but deep down, Shawn's pretty vanilla.

He never swears. He's never done drugs. The furthest he's been from home is Disney World. I think he's still a virgin. None of this would fly on Breaking Bad, Six Feet Under, or House. For all of his flaws, Shawn's, well, safe.

He could potentially leave my basement for a cop show. I could see him heading back to Philadelphia to join the cold case squad. Or to become a hard-bitten-but-ultimately-good detective, solving grisly crimes armed with only his street sense and a leather jacket. Or maybe he could find a hot female with whom to partner-just like on Castle or Bones- and their witty banter could lighten the dark underbelly of the city they protect. The problem there? Shawn ain't that smart. Or perceptive.

He's a C-minus student at best, which seems prohibitive to good detective work. So I think I'll keep him downstairs for now.

I treat him well. He gets plenty of food and water. He even has a window, a small square that lets him see passing feet — and dogs, if they're short enough. He tells me he loves that window. For him, it's like a television, looking out at real people, with real-people problems.

He's fascinated by how unstructured our lives are, how we drift from one moment to the next, free from the constraints of narrative, the pain of lurching endlessly from crisis to resolution. He covets your formless mood. Your un-episodic joys. The way you catch yourself off-guard. The way you wander, slowly, in and out of love. How you can go back, and revise the story of who you are, because there's no DVD box set. The way no one wants to know your ending.

Sometimes, I stay down there with him, and we share memories of the good old days. The time he blew up the mailbox with a cherry bomb. The time he peed on the cop car.

But even our best times together are bittersweet: We both know it can't last. Only one of us can return to the surface and live a semblance of a normal life. I make sure it's me."

forever thinking about rider strong’s answer to “what happened to shawn hunter”

[altaiiriss]

The plan was simple.

Go to this world.

Check in on the Agency.

Make sure that everything went according to his counterpart's plan.

Leave.

The most important part: do not cross paths with Chuuya.

But when he spots ginger hair and a tacky hat from afar, it's only a matter of seconds before he's pinned to the ground, a familiar knife pointed at his throat.

"What kind of disgusting ability is this?" the man above him barks, words filled with venom.

"This is not an ability." Dazai states, calmly.

"Don't you dare imply you're him," the knife brushes against his throat, a sharp vessel for the man's rage. "Boss died. Threw himself off the Port Mafia building."

Dazai swallows. This Chuuya looks different from the one he has known for seven years.

He's not as vibrant. He doesn't shine as much he does.

He looks like he almost gave up on living.

"Chuuya—"

"You have no right to say my name, you fucking imposter."

"Please, listen," he pleads. Damn, he doesn't like this Chuuya. "I am Dazai, just—not the one from this world. Not the one you knew."

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Chuuya questions through gritted teeth.

"I came here from a different timeline," he explains, careful, "I do share some memories with this world's Dazai, though."

"If you truly are Dazai," the name burns like liquid fire on his tongue, "then you must be a pathological liar as well. Why should I believe you?"

Dazai smirks. This Chuuya is a ticking bomb and he's ready to light his fuse.

"The first time he made love to you," he chooses his words carefully—they had sex plenty of times, but making love was new to them—"he told you he lov—"

Chuuya's fist meets Dazai's cheek.

It's painful, but Dazai didn't expect anything less from him.

"How the fuck did you come to this place?"

"I take it that Chuuya believes me." he grins, satisfaction making its way across his face. "It doesn't really matter. Let's say my ability comes in handy sometimes."

His Chuuya would have laughed at him. Probably told him he's a pain in the ass.

This Chuuya stays quiet and just... walks away?

Dazai's brow furrows.

"Where are you going?" the brunet asks, still sitting on the ground.

"I got nothing to say to you. You can go back to your fucking timeline." he snarls, that gloomy look plastered on his face.

"My, my, holding me accountable for what my counterpart did?" Dazai singsongs in his usual cheerful tone.

The next second he's avoiding the knife thrown at his head.

"I'm giving you one last warning," he growls, and Dazai swears he sees a reddish hue where Chuuya's brown eye should be. "Go. The fuck. Away."

"I just want to talk. About everything."

"You said you're not him, hah? Then you're nothing more than a stranger to me."

"I can explain why—"

"I don't care!" the ground shakes, courtesy of Tainted, but doesn't move beneath Dazai's shoes. "If he truly cared he would have told me about his fucking death plan instead of hiding everything from me!"

A long silence follows.

"Five minutes," Dazai pleas, "and I'll explain everything. Then I'll go back to my world."

Ten minutes later they're in the Port Mafia building, more precisely in Chuuya's office, which previously belonged to Dazai.

The detective glances at the empty chair and he can see it—the ghost of his counterpart, legs crossed, and the redhead standing fiercely on his left, covering his blind side.

There's something terrifying about it. A bond that was way different from the one he shares with his Chuuya; an unmatched level of trust and intimacy.

Imagining himself as the Port Mafia boss is making him sick to his stomach.

"I don't have all day," Chuuya complains, arms crossed. "Go on. I'll listen."

Once Dazai is done talking, the tension in the room is palpable.

"Why," Chuuya mutters, gripping the red scarf hanging over his shoulders, "Why didn't he tell me? Why did he send me on that fucking mission in London? I could have saved him."

"That's the point." Dazai sighs. "Saving him wasn't part of the plan. It would have ruined it."

"So ruining my life was the safest option, hah?" he scoffs, bitterness seeping through his words.

"You would have done the same for him."

'Yes', Chuuya wants to scream. 'Yes, and the fact that he prevented me from doing it keeps me awake at night'.

"You know," the redhead begins, breaking the silence, "I sensed something was off. At some point I realised we weren't on the same wavelength anymore. He treated me like shit then almost worshipped me as if his life depended on it."

"I guess you have figured out why."

"Yeah," the realisation burns the back of his throat. "He tried to detach himself. To make it easier for both of us."

'But he couldn't' is left unsaid.

"I don't know what you do to us, Chuuya," he blurts out, his mouth talking on its own, "It's terrifying."

He finds it easier to be a little bit honest with a Chuuya he's never going to see again.

If it makes him a coward, he doesn't care.

The redhead remains quiet and Dazai spots a myriad of emotions in his eyes.

Hurt, anger, sadness, longing.

"Am I happy?" Chuuya suddenly asks, "In your world."

"Are you happy in this one?" Dazai asks back, unsure.

"You want me to say 'yes' so you can feel better about all the mess your counterpart left for me to deal with? 'Cause I won't."

"This is the only world in which Od—"

"I know." he stops him. He doesn't want to hear that name again. "I just wish he talked to me instead of making all decisions on his own as if I didn't matter a damn thing to him. I guess I was useful as his strongest weap–"

"Don't." Dazai interrupts him, his voice firm. "You've never been a weapon. Not to him. Not to us."

The silence that follows eats them both alive. Talking to this Chuuya is filling Dazai with uneasiness for some reason he doesn't understand.

Seeing him so empty, inevitably similar to himself, makes him uncomfortable.

Does his Chuuya feel the same? Is he hiding all that resentment as well?

"Well, this took more than five minutes. I'll leave as I promised." he announces, suddenly unable to stand in that room anymore.

"Wait." Chuuya calls, his voice unsure.

He walks to Dazai until they're facing each other.

"I have one request. Then I'll let you go."

Dazai knows where this is going. That's why he didn't want to meet this Chuuya in the first place.

"Can I..." the redhead hesitates, "Have one last kiss before you go?"

Dazai's heart aches for the first time in ages.

"I'm not him." he states, voice flat.

They stare at each other's eyes, lost in the moment, and Dazai barely registers the way Chuuya is delicately pushing him against the desk until he's sitting on the black surface.

Neither of them dare speak, for any word would ruin the sacred religiousness of the moment.

Chuuya slots himself between Dazai's legs, bringing their bodies impossibly closer, and his hands reach for his scarf.

He removes it, his movements painfully slow, and Dazai swallows as the red cloth is placed around his shoulders.

Dazai's throat wobbles.

Chuuya's vision blurs.

Dazai feels seen as the redhead's eyes wander all over his face, scanning every feature so that he can store it in his mind until the last memory of the two of them fades.

A gloved hand reaches for Dazai's bandaged neck, caressing the fluffy brown curls, and Dazai's arms instinctively circle Chuuya's waist.

Would his Chuuya be mad at him if he found out?

"A Port Mafia traitor from another world, wearing his precious scarf... He would be feral." Dazai mutters, the forced proximity making him dizzy.

"He owes me." is all the current boss of the Port Mafia says, his eyes fixated on the detective's chapped lips.

His right hand comes to rest on the left side of Dazai's face, covering his eye, and their lips finally connect.

The kiss is tender, almost heart-shattering—it's nothing like the ones he shares with his Chuuya, and it's surely way different than the ones this Chuuya used to share with his counterpart—and yet its bitterness is suffocating.

This life wasn't designed for them, Chuuya thinks, but for now he'll just pretend his former boss is right in front of him.

It can't hurt more than it already does anyway.

Dazai pulls away first, fully aware that the longer this lasts, the more it's going to hurt, and Chuuya heaves a shaky breath in return.

He tries to keep the ghost of his former Boss close to him, but all his efforts are pointless against death.

"I'm going now," Dazai announces, placing the red scarf back on Chuuya's shoulders.

'It doesn't suit you at all', he thinks.

The detective twirls a ginger curl around his finger before walking away. "Take care."

"You will come back, will you?" Chuuya asks, both hopeful and hopeless, and Dazai wonders if this is how his Chuuya felt when he left the Mafia after Odasaku died.

Dazai smiles, quietly. "No. I have no right to be here."

"Always leaving me behind, no matter which universe you fuckers come from." Chuuya mocks him, but he speaks in loneliness. "Go, before I kill you."

"You wouldn't, neither of you." he replies, smiling to himself. "He's doing fine, by the way. Has gone through a lot, but never once lost his colours."

'You're both too good for us and that's why you'll never fully stop hurting', he thinks.

They steal one last glance at each other before Dazai finally disappears behind the door.

"Goodbye, Chuuya."

[valentine-cafe]

And we're back yet again ! LMAO

With respect to a conversation Eden and I had a while back, may I pretty please request a fem!reader riding the character and when he goes to pull out because he doesn't have a condom, she refuses to let go and just slams her hips back down against his ? Very breeding, very yummy! With vesp, alessio 781, alessio 164 and tal 164 pretty pls!! (Two of those were at Eden's request I'll let you guess which ones LMAO)

Thank you pookies I love you both 💜💜

˖⁺. “ put a baby in me ! ” :

﹙ multi monster bfs x fem reader ﹚.�� ݁ 

. . . multi monster bfs x fem reader !! 🍒 : ﹙  alessio 781 ˖ vespasiano 781 ˖ talisen 164 ˖ alessio 164 ﹚

he's about to pull out - he doesn't have a condom after all! but then you go ahead and push him back in. tell him to put a baby in you. 

﹙ cws ﹚: explicit content ˖ breeding kink ˖ rough sex ˖ riding ˖ degradation ˖ praise ˖ creampie ˖ messy sex ˖ fucked-out boys<3 | wc : 1.2k 

﹙ receipts ﹚: dragging my ass like the bully you are !! anw hope you enjoy this <3

꒰  other treats : guidelines ˖ m.list ˖ characters ˖ our lore  ꒱

﹙ Alessio 781. ﹚. . . !! 🍒 : The second your hips shoved back down and your nails dug through his shoulders. The moment he felt the warmth return so tightly as he splattered your walls full — his eyes glossed over.

Just a second ago this man was bouncing you wild on his dick, and now he looks almost loopy. "Baby -" oh the way he breathes the endearment.

The rough jerks of his hips abruptly return. Two large hands clamp down on your waist and jam you into every thrust. Faster. Harder. As his head falls back and he grows messy. Haphazard. Who cares for a rhythm.

The tempered knocks at your cervix cross your eyes at the centre. You squeal out a sharp - "Al - essio-! Oh!"

"Yeah? Yeah you whore? This what you want?" He's crumbling. His head falls into your chest. Kisses pour over your tits and he whines when you clamp tight round him. "Fuuckkk baby if you wanted - wanted me to fill you up, should'a said earlier."

He's slurring into your tits. Using strength along to force you to meet each of his thrusts. Overwhelming the both of you until you're barrelling to another orgasm only a minute or so later. He'll splatter your walls, drop his gaze and withdraw just to see your cunt gush his slick before he rams back in. Sees it squirt all over your bucking thighs.

"Think I'm done?" He rasps out a fucked-out laugh. "Not close amore. Hold tight."

꒰  mercenary ˖ inhuman ˖ punkgoth character ꒱

﹙ Vespasiano 781. ﹚. . . !! 🍓 : A wave of panic washes over him. For a moment he splutters, "T-Tesoro wait - I'm coming -" but you so eagerly shove your hips down and hump on his limp lap.

"Vesspp, 'm sorry - " you whine. "Need you to put a baby in me. Please Vespasiano. Please." You're rambling. But it doesn't stop his emerald eyes from turning to hearts the second he's over his hitched breath.

The headboard meets his head and back. He limps back in a way that makes you wonder of he's the fucked-out one or you. Hips stutter into small bucks, then tempered, sensual rolls that send your body into a desperate sort of ride on his lap.

"Fuck." His hands have always been meant to worship you. So they scour your body and reach up to squeeze on your pretty tits. Heated gazes meet. Oh, he's lovesick. "That's what y'want? Want an old man t'put a baby in ya?"

He seems happy to indulge with the way he sloppily moves your hips together. Well, sloppy until it turns rapid. Desperate. His fangs sink into your shoulder. He hugs around your body and drives both of you to another slew of slick. Don't expect him to pull out any time soon.

꒰  lieutenant ˖ vampire ˖ dilf character ꒱

   

﹙ Alessio 164. ﹚. . . !! 🍒 : Your hips couldn't slam down into his quick enough. A second. That's all it took for his eyes to gape, then hang low once more. Fingers twitch round your waist. Witnessing the way he pumps you full. How well you take it. And most of all — your pretty doe eyes staring down at him.

"So. . ." he huffs out a breath, a claw pinching on your thigh as he leans back. "All that whining over nothing, hmm?"

His hips buck up suddenly. The look on his face all too familiar. "Well, since you want it so bad. Go on. Show me." With his head propped against the headboard, his slithered gaze trails you up and down. He knows damn well that he is far too big for you to take all by yourself.

He doesn't seem to care when he snatches your waist and slams you all the way. Give you a few tester thrusts and mean croon. "Oh come on. . . needy little pussy was so greedy just a second ago."

There's no other choice. You meekly grind and hump on his lap with the most pathetic of noises. He doesn't seem to move an inch. After all, you're the one who wanted to play your little game with him.

"Come on, stellina. Breed yourself on my cock. Since you want it so bad."

꒰  sorcerer ˖ corrupt god character ˖ punkgoth character ꒱

 

﹙ Talisen 164. ﹚. . . !! 🍓 : His head spun. That is the only thing he could comprehend before he's clamping your thighs and shoving forward. Your back hits the mattress, just as his hips starts rapidly smacking into yours. Shooting the air from your lungs as you throw your hands into his hair.

"T-Tal - Tal-!"

"You -" he heaves, snap! plap! "You want me to breed you so badly baobei? Mhhm? Then take it." His gaze glosses over. The sheer power of his hips against yours has your poor cunt squeeze round his thick dick. Squirting the mix of essence all over.

"Since you wish to waste it so much - since you are so eager." Guttural, that's all he sounds as he withdraws his head to watch the obscene bulge at your tummy. Riding has always been the go-to position because of his monstrous side.

Oh, how pretty it looks bulging your insides. He envisions the swolleness of your belly in the months to come. It drives him wild. Sends his cock barelling into you all the more.

All you can do is cling. Whine. Squirt around him and take his seed each time he topples over an orgasm. Stuffing you full of glittery come.

"That's it baobei! There you go. Get nice and full f'me."

꒰  snake monster ˖ corrupt god character ꒱

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[holylulusworld]

Bad day at work (3)

Summary: It’s a bad day at the office.

Pairing: Jake Jensen x fem!Reader

Warnings: short reader, enemies to…, language, banter

Catch up here: Bad day at work (2)

Jensen pushes his glasses back up when you stop in front of his desk. “You can sit at my desk. I’ll be right back with a new mouse. Your laptop will be fixed in no time.” He says, pointing at his desk chair.

“Okay,” you say, fighting the chuckle bubbling up your throat. Jensen looks like an obedient puppy when he pulls the chair for you and offers his seat to you.

“It’s ergonomic and, uh—yeah. Give me ten minutes, and you can go back to work,” he says, turning to leave. “I’ll get the mouse, a brand-new one. What color do you like?”

“Surprise me,” you casually say as you turn your attention toward the knick-knacks on his desk. He’s got lots of comic figurines, funky-looking pens, and pictures of what you assume are his daughters and wife.

You chuckle, imagining he likes to play with the figurines instead of working. When you grab one of the picture frames, he places a hand on your shoulder, making you flinch.

“That’s my sister and my nieces. She’s playing soccer,” he explains, proudly puffing his chest as he tells you about his niece. “Uh—I got the mouse for you.”

“Half the job, done already,” you chuckle. "Here, take your seat back."

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll just sit at Brock’s desk. He’s still out and about,” Jake huffs. The truth is, he was searching for Brock in every nook but didn’t find any trace of his whereabouts. “Let’s see what I can do for your laptop.”

“While you check on my laptop,” you clear your throat to catch Jake’s attention. “Would you mind if I was grabbing something for lunch in the meantime?”

“No, of course not. Go ahead. Get lunch, and I'll check on your laptop. You can get it back in no time.”

You leave the desk to get some food and fresh air. Stuck at your office for most of the time, you rarely get the chance to stretch your legs.

Jake watches you leave, smirking as his eyes land on your ass. He hums and tries to focus on the task at hand, not the things he’d love to do to your sassy ass.

“How is it going?” You ask, walking back toward Jensen’s desk. Plopping down on his chair, you lean back and sigh. “I must get back to work soon.”

“Almost done—” Jensen cocks his head to look at you. His features darken because you dig your fork into the rest of your food. “Are you eating at my computer?”

“What?” You chew on your Chinese take-out. “I’m hungry and have food left. I won’t make your desk dirty.”

His features darken as you keep on stuffing the food into your mouth. “You have no respect for my workplace.” Jensen slowly gets up from the chair to stalk toward you. “You do not eat at someone else’s desk!”

You harrumph. “What do you want me to do? Throw the rest of my food away.”

“I want you to respect my desk, my workplace, and me,” he growls at you. “Who do you think you are?”

“Awe and I believe we are finally getting along,” you slowly get up from his chair to walk toward Brock’s desk. You sit down and start to eat again. “There you go.” You chew audibly. “I’m not eating at your desk any longer.”

“That’s not better!” Jake throws his hands up. “You come here, yelling at me for something someone else did. I tried anything to be nice and fix your problems, but you are still a bitch!”

“Bitch!” You get up from Brock’s chair, throwing your food at Jensen. He dodges your attack, huffing as the food knocks his figurines over. “You’re going to pay for this.”

“What are you going to do, four-eyes?” You sass, putting your hands on your hips. “I bet you don’t even know how to handle a woman. Your only interactions with women are the figurines on your desk.”

“I can handle a woman!” He yells back, not backing down now. “If I see one. But you’re an annoying brat.”

“I thought I’m a bitch,” you chuckle as you stalk toward him. “You know,” you dip your head to look at the empty desks in the IT section. “All of your little gremlins are already home. It’s only you and me, tech nerd. What are you going to do about my bratty ass?”

Tags in reblog.

[asktimeandtimeagain]

ADELAIDE: Do you have my hat.

BONNIE: So what if I do?

ADELAIDE: I want my hat.

BONNIE: If I give it to you, what do I get in return?

ADELAIDE: I'll punch ya if you don't give me my hat.

BONNIE: Oh nooo, Addy, but if you do that I'll die until I'm dead.

ADELAIDE: No you won't. But I'll have my hat.

BONNIE: I never said I had your hat.

(Adelaide glares at Bonnie and then lunges at them.)

(The two of them play fight on the ground for a few minutes. Eventually, Adelaide shoves her hand into Bonnie's bag and presents her hat.)

ADELAIDE: Victory. I win.

(She puts on her hat.)

BONNIE: Woop woop.

ADELAIDE: Woop woop.

BONNIE: Are you going to go back to Za and Frin?

ADELAIDE: No. I'm going to hang out with Odile.

BONNIE: Anything to do with Combat de Goût?

ADELAIDE: Why would I tell you.

BONNIE: Alriiiight but if you two want any help, let me know. I'm doing deliveries all day because of Combat tomorrow. Wouldn't want your plans ruined because of poor planning or sabotage~

BONNIE: I think a lot of people will be using curry so I think it'll be a bit hard to get and very easy to judge if it's done bad.

ADELAIDE: I said nothing about curry.

BONNIE: Sure, sure, mmhmm, just stating a fact.

ADELAIDE: And Odile makes good curry.

BONNIE: In normal circumstances, yes! But Combat is not normal circumstances. It is a day of life or death. It's going to be kill or be killed out there, and everyone knows that, and nobody wants to be the one having to clean the town of food scraps at the end of the day.

ADELAIDE: And this is why I'm teaming up with Odile and not you. Besides, you'll probably be off with your friends or something.

BONNIE: Friends?

ADELAIDE: Y'know. The artist and then that chef kid who always happens to be in the same town we're in.

BONNIE: You mean... um... Frédérique and Basile?

ADELAIDE: If you say so.

BONNIE: We're not friends.

(Adelaide looks unconvinced, but shrugs.)

ADELAIDE: Okay. Whatever. Good luck with deliveries, Bon.

(Adelaide wanders off.)

BONNIE: ... bye Addy?

SIFFRIN: Hey Bonbon, have you seen Adelaide around?

BONNIE: Juuuust missed her, sorry, Frin.

[into-the-hellaverse]

Lucifer and Adam's Good Day

Final part of the Bad Day series!

Before we get to the fic, I wanna thank lilacwriter07, hellojenpenworld, inubaki, and libby-for-life (not tagged cause idk how y'all feel about being tagged in random fics). Libby started this with a commission and Lilac, jenpen, and inubaki kinda kept spurring it on with their kind words and encouragement. Y'all shouldn't have done that XD If you do that, you get a happy giddy mess that's lowkey over the top and filled with typos.

But still, thanks to you guys I did something I never thought I could do. Finish writing something. I always wanted to write a fic series, and it's my dream to be a published author, but I never actually got myself to sit down and write long enough to actually complete something. So, thank you. You guys are some of the kindest people I've met.

Sorry to get sentimental on y'all. Now, let's give Adam and Luci a happy ending :)

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

Lucifer took a deep breath to calm his nerves. He practiced everything on the way over here. What to say, how to act, and he even scouted out a quiet place for him and Adam to go. He just had to execute this. Perfectly.

He took a deep breath and walked up the small staircase to the mansion's entrance, giving a few quick, sharp knocks.

"ADAM! GET OFF YOU LAZY ASS AND ANSWER THE DOOR!" Mammon's voice carried really well. There was some running around and Adam opened the front door.

"Hi..." Adam whispered, smiling softly. "I started losing hope..."

"I'm sorry, it took a little longer than expected..." Lucifer said softly, cupping Adam's cheek. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm great, now that you're here..."

Lucifer smiled, quickly dropping it once he noticed the scarf wrapped tightly around Adam's neck. "What happened?"

"I'd...rather not talk about it..."

Lucifer nodded softly.

"WHO THE FUCK IS THERE?!"

Adam pushed his hand away and turned into the house. "ITS LUCIFER!"

"WHO?!"

"LUCIFER!"

"WHO?!"

"IT'S THE KING OF HELL! GET OVER HERE!"

Lucifer had never seen Mammon move that fast. He was at the front door in a matter of seconds, a scowl on his face. "The fuck you want, you walking asshole?"

Now to put the plan in action. He gave a big, nervous smile and sucked in a breath through his teeth. "Yeah, so I had to have a meeting with Sera, and she found out that Adam isn't up in Pride anymore. And, you know Sera. She through a bitch fit and demanded Adam gets put back where he belongs."

"He's not going back with you," Mammon growled.

Lucifer held up his hands defensively. "I know! Believe me, I don't want him in my Ring! But if he's not there, then Sera might wreck havoc and..." Crap what was he gonna say?! He practiced this 20 times! "Destroy all of Hell..." That wasn't what he was supposed to say.

Mammon raised a brow. "Seriously?"

"Yes." Now he had to commit. "I mean, you know Sera. Takes the smallest thing and blows them out of proportion."

Mammon sighed and rolled his eyes. "Bitch still hasn't changed a bit, huh?"

Yes, he bought it! "Sadly, no. So, I just need to take Adam for a month or two back to my Ring. Once Sera calms down, I'll talk to her and make her realize that it's better if he's down her with you. Sound good?"

Mammon sighed. He was obviously pissed off and hesitant. "Just a couple of months?"

"And he'll be all yours," Lucifer said with a smile. "Forever and ever..."

Mammon rolled his eyes. "You better fix it. Quick." He turned to Adam. "Go get your shit. You're going to stay with Lucifer for a while." He shut the door in Lucifer's face.

Lucifer let out a hefty sigh, feeling his heartbeat slow down as panic subsided. Thank God, he bought it...

Adam left a few minutes later, slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder and gripping his guitar case with a death grip. He raced down the steps and Lucifer ran after him, trying to keep his pace as they left the mansion grounds.

"I thought you said I wouldn't have to go back," Adam said softly.

"You won't. Follow me." Lucifer walked the dirty streets of Greed, holding Adam's hand and leading him along until he found a quiet alley way. He led him deep, until they couldn't see the road.

"What are we doing down here?" Adam asked nervously.

"We just need some privacy." Lucifer let go of his hand and pulled something out of his jacket pocket.

Adam stared at him, shocked and confused. "Is that..."

"A Luciferian crystal." He paused, watching Adam intensely. "I know what you're thinking, but I'm not gonna take this from you. This is yours to keep, Adam. I just need to show you how to use it, then it's all yours. I won't take it back. I promise."

Adam nodded. Although from the look on his face, you could tell he didn't believe him.

Lucifer put it on. "It's really simple, actually." He turned around and held up the crystal, looking back to make sure Adam was watching. "All you have to do is think about where you want to go and draw a pentagram." He used the tip of his nail to draw a pentagram on the flat surface of the crystal, watching the bight red lines etching their way into the crystal. When he finished, a portal opened up to Gluttony, right outside Bee's mansion.

"That's Gluttony," Lucifer explained as Adam stared in awe. "Bee has really good parties."

Adam didn't say anything.

Lucifer started getting uncomfortable. "If you want to get rid of the portal, all you gotta do is wipe it away." He made sure Adam was watching and he wiped the pentagram off the crystal, and the portal closed in the blink of an eye. "And that's just how it is. Think of where you wanna go, draw the pentagram, and wipe it away once you pass through." He took off the crystal and held it out to Adam, but he didn't grab it.

"Adam..." Lucifer gently took his hand and placed the crystal in it. "I'm not going to take it from you. I genuinely want you to have this."

"Why?" Adam asked, looking confused.

"Because after everything I did, after everything I said to you... This is the least I can do..."

Adam still seemed nervous and hesitant, but he gave him a smile.

Lucifer smiled back gently. "Can I show you one more thing?"

"Sure..."

"I was able to set up a spawn point or homing beacon of sorts on the crystal." Lucifer gently opened his hand, showing the flat surface of the crystal. "If you're ever running around the Rings and you need a place you know is safe, just think about home and draw the pentagram." He drew it for Adam and watched a portal open up into a red room.

Adam just stared, like he didn't want to believe this was real.

"It's safe. Trust me." As if to prove a point, Lucifer fell backwards into the portal and landed on the hard ground on the other side. Adam just stepped through, looking around cautiously.

Lucifer quickly jumped to his feet and carefully wiped away the pentagram. "Don't forget to do that. You don't know who will follow you through."

"Got it," Adam said, gripping the crystal tightly when he was done. "So... Where are we?"

"At my palace. I have a bunch of spare rooms, more than what I know to do with. So I turned one into a guest room for you," Lucifer said. "If you're ever scared, if you need a place to stay that you know is safe, or if you just need a break, then you can come here and stay as long as you want. I won't touch anything in here, I won't mess with any of your stuff. You can use any of the palace amenities, and I won't ask you to do anything while you're here." He watched Adam examine the bare room closely, as if he was looking for something. "Sorry if it's not that flashy. I thought it would be better if you decorated it since-"

"What's the catch?" Adam cut him off.

"Huh?" Lucifer looked confused.

"What's the catch?" Adam repeated. "There has to be some kind of catch."

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

"What do you mean? There is no catch." Lucifer looked just as confused as Adam.

"You can't be this nice just because. There's something in it for you."

Lucifer sighed softly. "Adam. Trust me when I saw this. I don't want anything from you. I just want you to be safe."

"Why?"

"Because I care about you. More than I probably should... After everything you went through, you need a place that you know is safe, and the only place I thought of was here. And with the crystal, you can go anywhere you want in Hell at a moments notice. It's not exactly the freedom you had up in Heaven, but it's close enough, right?"

Adam said nothing, his expression unreadable as he looked away from Lucifer and down at the pure white crystal in his hands.

"I'll let you get settled in...." Lucifer turned and left the room. He walked down the quiet halls, but it felt different than before. Just having Adam here, it made his home feel warmer. It made Lucifer feel calm. I mean, Adam was probably never going to use the room, but just the idea that he could be here anytime... It made him smile.

He heard a gentle knock as he passed by the front door. Confused, he went over and opened it a crack to see who it was.

"Charlie?" He asked, swinging the door wide open. "What are you doing here?"

"Can I stay with you for a while?" She asked as she sobbed.

"Of course, baby! Come in, I'll get you bags." He gently ushered her inside and grabbed the few bags she brought, leading her up to her old bedroom. She was silent, except for the occasional sob, sitting on her bed while Lucifer started to unpack some of her clothes and belongings.

The silence was eating him up. Charlie was rarely ever like this. And judging from the puffy eyes, she had been crying for days. He carefully sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

"What happened, duckling?" He asked, his voice soft and gentle.

Charlie started cry harder than ever. "I don't know, Dad! I don't know why I've been acting like this! Everything was going so well with the hotel and Adam then Cameron came around and started framing Adam and I just got so mad and everything went out of control and Vaggie left and I kicked you out and Angel ran away and Alastor left and if Alastor leaves then Husk and Nifty leave too and I was all alone and I just couldn't take it! I'm a failure!"

"Charlie, sweetie, you're not a failure," he said, pulling her closer. "You're just.... Maybe you like Lilith."

"H-Huh?" She wiped her eyes, smearing days-old makeup on her face.

"I mean, you know I have some form of anxiety, and I passed that onto you. Your mother never really showed it, but she had some kind of mood disorder. I wanna say she was bipolar, but I'm not a doctor so I can't diagnose."

"Am I broken?"

"No, no, Charlie. You're not broken," he said reassuringly. "You just need some help. You still have that human disguise, right?"

"Yeah..."

"Wonderful. I'll get an appointment set up and I can take you up to Earth so you can get a diagnosis from a good, trusted doctor, and some good meds to help. Not the shit that Belle has. Maybe set you up with a therapist, too."

Charlie seemed to calm down at that. "I thought you couldn't go to Earth..."

"Charlotte, I'm the King of Hell. I can fo whatever I want, whenever I want, and however I want. If I want to go up to Earth to help my daughter, I will." He smiled and kissed her cheek. "Get some rest, duckling. I'll make your favorite tonight."

Charlie smiled and hugged him. "You're the best, Dad... I'm sorry for kicking you out..."

Lucifer hugged back tightly. "You had every right to, Charlie. I promised you I would never take them again and I broke that promise."

"You just needed help," Charlie tried to reason.

"And I could've gone somewhere else for that help. I didn't have to go to Auntie Belle." He kissed her forehead and pulled away. "Now get some rest. Seriously. You look exhausted."

Charlie gave him a weak smile and laid down on her bed, easily succumbing to sleep.

Lucifer just smiled and left the room. Finally, after all the shit of the past year, things finally started looking up...

This may be the conclusion of the Bad Day Arc (if you wanna call it that) but not the end of the story! There will be more fics around this storyline, that I shall not reveal because I wanna be a sneaky bitch :3 Mostly, I'm writing it for me, because I will take every excuse to shove my ocs where they don't belong (and none of the previous characters were ocs. I just asked friends to name them for one-off jokes and shit). I will shove my ocs into there like shoving a square into a circle hole

[overnightheartbeats]

"Just a little surprised," she reassured. "It's true then," the truth settled in for her. Ivette had heard the rumor, that his parents were not as involved. She just didn't think it was true, and that they really had let him take the place under his guidance already. "Hm, that is a pretty big difference, almost night and day." She had remembered those distinctions being very clear when she was still growing up here. "I loved that table, of course I remember. I know they hated that we were interrupting their cooking flow." Not that they'd voice their annoyance, since she was hanging out with him. "You are quick to clean, wow. Wait, you're kidding. Two in the morning?" That was insanity for her, but only because two in the morning was when she was most active at the hospital. Night shifts had become an odd favorite of hers. "You certainly sound busy, but I guess that's what you've been preparing for all this time." Running this place had always been part of the plan, his mother's words echoing in her mind.

She followed him to the kitchen, taking a seat as soon as they walked in. Unlike the early bird, Ivette's head was still spinning a smidge. "Okay, yes. How much fun would you make of me if I admit I feel just a tiny bit hungover? Eggs are still perfect, what's your specialty in the kitchen?" While he was grabbing items from the fridge, she had taken a few minutes to reply to Javi, just because he might dissuade her from continuing to sit here in her ex's kitchen, and getting breakfast together.

It's great, now you can smack me back to reality in real time versus delayed a few days letter when your letter would arrive. You know, sometimes I forget who I'm talking to Mr. advice columnist. Easier said than done, but you're not wrong. I just can't get over the fear of talking to him, I'd kind of be putting myself out there again. Putting myself out there to get shot down and possibly humiliated, doesn't sound fun at all. I'll think about when, maybe the next time I'm drunk out of my mind (kidding!) It feels like a bad idea, doesn't it? Everyone says being friends with an ex is impossible. Is she talking to you now at least? I'm sure she would know how important she is to you. You show a lot of care in your words. Would you take your own advice, talking to her so that you can also get some closure? Do you plan on telling her ever? How you feel? Silently carrying those feelings is hard. Especially if you see each other every day. I get you though, I'm still so upset and hurt with him and yet, I would fall again in a heartbeat. Well, smartest thing...our brains just kinda stop working, no? Mines did when I'm around him, that's for sure. Mojitos with tequila are the best! But, yesterday was rum. That's probably what screwed me over after the second one. I hate when you have good advice, you know, it makes it hard to listen to my impulsive thoughts. My suitcase was already packed, but yes I promise I'll try not to run. If you also try making some progress on the love life. Just so I'm not alone in the journey. :)

Javi's words were circling in her mind as she set her phone down - last time isn't this time. Plus, getting closure. Closure was all she had been thinking of for years, picturing all the ways she would confront him for the pain he caused her, but now that they were a few feet from each other, she couldn't bring herself to ask. Nate's voice pulled her away from her thoughts, lemonade dissolving everything else. "Yeah, of course. Lemonade will finish waking me up. What are your plans for today then, besides making breakfast for your guests?" Maybe she was just looking for ideas of things to do before the real work began tomorrow. Or, she was curious what a day in Nate's life looked like now.

He nodded as confirmation and smiled, "a little surprised? I mean, I wanted to make a difference once this wasn't under the direction of my parents. No one here is below anyone else. We're all equal. There isn't a table in the kitchen here anymore. Remember that table we used to hid under when the ladies would cook? They all get to eat out in the living room with the rest of us." Being crowned prince didn't mean he was above them all. Not anymore it didn't. "Cleaning is going well. Done with the courtyard now heading inside. Mhmm," he laughed. "I am usually up at two in the morning but I go to bed at six. Dinner is at four usually. Unless I have more work to do." That work being his actual job as an advice columnist. "No, well I'm no plumber. That's the only thing that Raul does. Everything else is me. I like to keep busy." Also, this was everything he'd learned at his boarding school.

"Don't worry about it. Let's eat." The break was well deserved anyway. He lead her through the kitchen doors and gestured for her to take the first available seat she found. The wall between the outer kitchen and the stove was tall and had hidden him from sight for a moment as he took out the ingredients together to make a satisfying breakfast. "Still like eggs?" he asked as he felt his phone vibrate.

The joys of evolving technology. There's a lot of "I"s in that sentence. How do you know for sure? Have you talked to him about it? You're and don't take this as me taking his side in this. He hurt you and that is not something that can be set aside but, you're not giving him a voice to his side. You're assuming that the past version of him is the one you spent the night with. Talking in absolutes when you aren't really truly sure thats what he thinks. Last time isn't this time. If you want that closure you're going to have to talk to him. Not today maybe not in the upcoming weeks but sometime you will need to meet face to face to talk about the past just to get that closure. You deserve it.

I can't even tell you anything on wanting to be friends. I'm in a similar boat as you where I'd give anything to make her see that she's still important to me. I'm okay. Been drowning myself in work. I get to see her everyday for a while and it kills me to see her and see how far apart we truly are. I don't know how to talk to her without telling her how much I still love her. That the pain that was inflicted did nothing to change how I feel about her. I still carry her in my heart even though the smartest thing would be to get her out of there. I still at the end of the day, would bend to my knees for her. Mojitos are good. Was it mixed with vodka or tequila? Don't run. Don't give him that power.

He had put his phone away and sighed as he brought over some juices to the table. "I hope lemonade is okay?"

[gruesomejack]

Honestly that never happened

Lying is your favorite passion

[marblerose-rue]

click for better quality!

must be fall

[sskk-manifesto]

--

[wellthatschaotic]

neurotypicals are so frustrating,, i keep forgetting that "can you do x" means "go do x"

[docsbestkissedoperative]

this blog is awesome for me, actually

[seventh-district]

.

[running-in-the-dark]

well everything is just kind of coming together to make this a 'I'm not going to get out of bed' kind of day. I'm soooo saaaad.