#and it's very entertaining and doesn't dumb down things much

[frostbite-the-bat]

society if literally 80% of rw fandom and especially rw analysis youtubers (who are great, EXCEPT) stopped calling gourmand heckin' chonker chubby diabetic ginormous whatever and paid more mind to their whole character and not just the fact that they're fat

[thedreadvampy]

I mean sure, I can understand this perspective, but I'm not sure whether most people feel less shaken to be thrust into conversations about "self-unaliving" than conversations about "suicide"

and I for one as a survivor would much rather unexpectedly encounter somebody talking about "rape" than somebody talking about how funny it is to have sex with somebody when they don't want to, a normal thing that doesn't need to be named because it's So Normal.

which is to say. this is a post about words. the words are not the distressing thing about the discussion. the distressing thing is the distressing thing about the discussion. sugarcoating, dodging or renaming the distressing thing doesn't make it less distressing but it DOES often make it harder to have a frank discussion about it or address it in serious terms.

[pinch of salt: solid probability from their blog that this person is a Literal 14 Year Old and the perspective from 30 and 14 are very different. I do stand by all the points I'm making but I think this conversation lands a lot different for people at different life stages - there is something to be said for the general issue that the internet has flattened social groups to the degree that I as a 30 year old can make a post to my audience of largely adult millennials that immediately enters the same conversational space as people half my age and still in school. that seems. ungreat. as the primary way we engage in conversation. but I don't have solutions to offer.]

you gotta be able to say "die"

you gotta be able to say "suicide"

you gotta be able to talk about "sex"

they're uncomfortable topics, YEAH for SURE

because LIFE is uncomfortable. Death and suicide and sex and pain are straight up going to happen. not having words for the way it discomforts you doesn't make it more comfortable, it just makes you less able to reach out about it.

even more vital, you gotta be able to say words like "rape", "abuse", "queer" or "racist". cause we fought fucking hard to name those experiences. to identify "rape" as distinct from "sex" and "racism" as distinct from "acceptable behaviour" and "queer" as distinct from "invert"

like the function of communication is not to minimise immediate discomfort. we gotta be able to talk about stuff that's hard or sucks or causes difficult conversations.

[malleleothreesome]

Leona who is pining after you...

💛 summary: Cohesive blurbs about things Leona would do and what he would be like if he were pining after you. ༶༶༶ 💛 warnings: gender neutral reader, unedited, pretty much just a stream of my thoughts. There is cursing. Very angsty but also has romance. Mentions of depressive thoughts. A very raw look into Leona's mind. There is smut (wet dream) in the middle, marked with 🔞 if you want to skip to the next bullet. ༶༶༶ 💛 word count: 4.7k because I'm delulu

💛 Leona who is pining after you... tries to gaslight himself and cling to any sort of logical explanation he can come up with to try to convince himself that he definitely does not have feelings for you. It was probably just a one-time thing, and he just needs to find a way to get you out of his head. He's never thought about anyone this way before, so it's definitely just an error in his brain chemistry or something. It was only a coincidence that he happened to be thinking about you at that particular time, and if you had never been on his mind at all, his heart wouldn't be beating so fast every time he interacts with you. He would never allow himself to develop feelings for anyone, especially you, so he must not actually have any. It's really that simple. It couldn't possibly be that he's fallen for some weird, magicless human, right? Right?! There has to be something medically wrong with him! He must be crazy to have these kinds of thoughts about a stranger who just randomly poofed into existence at the beginning of the semester. Why did you invade his dreams? It doesn't matter! What the hell is wrong with him?!

It has to be a mistake, because there is no way he would EVER fall for someone as annoying and boring as you are, even if you do seem to have a better understanding of him than the people who have known him his whole life, and you treat him like he actually matters instead of seeing him as the scumbag you probably should have gotten to know better before giving him your time and attention. It's not like he genuinely cares what you think of him, anyway – he’s just grateful that he doesn't have to deal with another person treating him like a failure or a lazy, worthless piece of shit.

The way you look at him like he could be someone worth loving despite his constant tirade of anger is definitely not a key factor in him caring for you. Your smile and laugh makes his chest feel funny, and the fact that he is suddenly hyper-aware of his body when he's around you is probably just a symptom of mental or physical illness. Maybe he’s finally eaten too much red meat and he’s about to succumb to heart disease at the ripe age of 20. Perhaps he simply hasn't rubbed one out in a while and he’s thinking with his dick and not his head? He's definitely not attracted to you, and he's absolutely not thinking about what it would be like to kiss you right now. That would just be insane, and he can't believe he even let himself entertain the thought! He’d rather die than think about what it would be like to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him as you sit on his lap, looking down at him with that beautiful smile and those cunning eyes of yours, gently stroking his face as you lean down to press your lips against his… oh, god dammit!

💛 Leona who is pining after you… finally lays down in surrender to the fact that, alright, maybe he does have feelings for your dumb ass – against all odds. He convinces himself that he’s only humoring this pathetic little crush because it makes his monotonous, tiresome days a little more riveting. Lions are predators, and the thrill of the hunt is a key part of their nature, after all. Before you, all he had to look forward to was staring at the ceiling in his dark room for most of the day until the stars showed up in the sky, or until he got roped into housewarden drama and became too frustrated to do anything other than restlessly pace around Savanaclaw before eventually confining himself back to the comforting solitude of his room. He tells himself he might as well allow himself the small luxury of thinking about someone who doesn’t entirely annoy the shit out of him, because he could sure as hell use the emotional relief. At least this way, he isn’t actively thinking about how much he hates his life, and how much he hates himself for letting it become this way. Besides, what would be the harm in letting himself entertain the idea that maybe, just maybe – if he was lucky enough – you could be the first person to ever break down the walls he built to keep himself from getting hurt by other people? Plus, if nothing else, you make for such a pretty daydream.

Every moment he spends with you makes him want you to keep sticking around even after everything is said and done. You can actually keep up with his banter, which is probably why he can actually stand being around you in the first place. No one else is capable of keeping up with his quick wit, or of providing him with a good challenge. You aren't scared off by his harsh demeanor, and you're able to stand up to him when he gets a little too overbearing. You don't take his bullshit, but you still care about his well being and treat him with respect. Despite his public struggles, you don’t see him as some sort of charity case. He's never met anyone else who is able to be so firm with him, but gentle at the same time. He didn't know someone could have such a strong presence without even having magic, but you're somehow always able to pull the rug out from under him, showing him that you're much more powerful than he initially gave you credit for. You're a real pain in his ass sometimes, but you're also the only person in years who's made him feel like life might actually be worth living. Maybe these feelings aren't so bad after all…

💛 Leona who is pining after you… starts leaving his room more often and even attending classes again, hoping he'll run into you on campus. If he doesn't see you, that would suck, but he knows if he stays in his room all day, then he'd risk losing the chance to spend the day with you completely. Besides, if there's even the slightest possibility, seeing you could be the highlight of his day and make even his shittiest days seem almost bearable. When you finally show up, he throws a casual greeting and a nonchalant raise of a single brow, pretending like he coincidentally ran into you in the crowd and totally didn't memorize your class schedule. When your face lights up, telling him you were glad to run into him, his pulse races and for a split second, a goofy grin flashes on his face and he desperately starts fighting his tail from swishing eagerly behind him. All he does is mumble in agreement, then shove his hands in his pockets, rolling his eyes like this isn't what he's been waiting for since he woke up. He says he might as well join you in the cafeteria, because he's starving and it's that time anyway, so whatever.

As you enter the lunch line, your face falls in disappointment when you realize your favorite sandwich is sold out. Leona expected something like this would happen, so he asked Ruggie to grab him one of that type of sandwich along with his usual order, on the chance that he would get to spend lunch with you. He looks to his right, glancing at your slumped shoulders as your mood seems to deflate a little as a frown forms on your face. He steps forward and grumbles an off-hand comment that he snagged one earlier for himself, but since you look so pitiful, he'll let you have it, only because he doesn't want to deal with your incessant whining the whole lunch. When you gape up at him, shocked by his thoughtful gesture, his face starts burning red as he quickly turns away, aggressively stuffing a bite of food in his face to make himself look distracted. When he happens to catch your thankful eyes glistening at him, it feels like the air has been punched right out of his lungs, and the small smile and sincere gratitude tugging on the corner of your lips causes his stomach to do backflips. How annoying that his usually stoic demeanor always falls apart in front of you.

💛 Leona who is pining after you... constantly teases you and tries to embarrass you, attempting to make it sound like you're the one pining for him (even if you're not!) just to try to distract you from the truth. He teases you relentlessly, hoping it’ll make it so you won't feel confident calling him out on the little ways he treats you differently than everyone else. He loves seeing you get flustered trying to deny it, but he also uses it as an opportunity to study your reactions, trying to deduce your real feelings for him by the color in your cheeks, the wavering of your voice, how often you avert your eyes, and how quickly you fire back with an argument. The smirk that emerges on his face tells you exactly that he's not convinced, even if you deny everything. He may be subtle about it, but he uses every opportunity he can find to feel you out, to see if there's even the slightest possibility you might feel something for him. He'll never let you know how badly he wants it to be true with every fiber of his being. He’d be absolutely thrilled if you confessed to him, but he’ll never show it, because it's far more comfortable hiding behind sarcasm. His prideful, guarded heart prevents him from expressing genuine positive emotions and potentially opening himself up to any type of mockery.

💛 Leona who is pining after you... slowly becoming more attached to the idea of you falling for him. As the weeks go by and he hears you giggle as you argue with him, his thoughts linger a bit more when they try to calculate why he's not actually feeling burnt out from spending so much time with you. His patience with the rest of the world starts waning, not really bothering to deal with anyone or anything that could distract him from basking in your aura for as long as possible. He even takes a more active role in interacting with you, whether you two are chatting as he sits on a bench in the botanical gardens, or hanging out after-hours in his room, hoping that this could eventually become a common routine. He loves learning about you and the world you come from. When you open up about your background, he enjoys getting a glimpse into your mind. His brain starts rapidly filing away little details about you, creating a catalog of thoughts for each of his favorite things about you, or the little quirks you have that he secretly finds endearing. The memories of conversations where you both held each other's gaze for a fraction of a second longer than normal or the accidental touches that cause his heart to skip a beat come to life with a vibrance never seen in other parts of his memory bank. The time you grabbed his hand because the tree branches kept making “spooky” noises around you and the time you playfully messed up his hair (even daring to cop a feel of his ear in the process!), are some of his favorite memories to revisit.

As you two grow closer and more comfortable with each other, he pretends to be annoyed at you more often, only because he wants to test how well you can read him, and also how far he can push you. He revels in the way he feels a spark in his chest and a faint smile tugs at the corner of his lips whenever your eyes meet. He tries hard to remind himself that the growing heat rising to his face every time you grin at him is all because of the temperature. His playful touches start to become more sensual, his voice dips deeper and more seductive as his hands linger on your skin, his breath fanning against your face and neck with every taunting word spoken. He hates himself for loving the way you bite your lip and blush under his gaze as he continues to run his hand up your arm, causing your eyelids to flutter. He loves the feeling of power your vulnerable, affectionate expression grants him, the rush of endorphins so great he thinks his entire body might collapse. When he pulls his hand back, the stinging absence leaves him in a state of panic, terrified that this might have been the moment you'd realize how he feels about you and finally flee. In an effort to swallow his vulnerability and save face, he'll cover up his aroused desire with aggression. With a bite in his tone, he'll lash out at you, mocking the way you acted so touch-starved and desperate in the heat of the moment, even though the only one truly desperate here is him. He has to force himself to maintain eye contact and an air of dominance with you while he snaps at you, even as he feels his throat tighten, heart slamming against his ribs. He metaphorically shoves you away and leaves before he loses control, before his raw affection for you spills from his lips like a confession.

💛 🔞 Leona who is pining after you... fast asleep as he lies alone in bed, your figure haunting his dreams. Right before he fell asleep, he was having a particularly bad day and he found himself clinging to a fantasy of holding you in his arms, using you as an anchor to help him process the dread of reality. On a typical night, all he has are his regrets and unanswered questions swirling around in his subconscious, but tonight is different – he falls asleep dreaming about being curled up against your warmth, wondering what it would be like for you to stroke his hair, gently reminding him that there's at least one good thing to wake up for, no matter how empty the day may feel.

As he falls deeper into his slumber, his eyelids begin to twitch and his long eyelashes tickle his flushed cheekbones. He finds himself lost within a dreamy state that feels so very real to him as your face fades into focus. You're kneeling beside him in the bed, and his body is covered in the sheets, with your arms wrapped underneath his shoulder. He can barely tell whether or not this is really a dream at this point as you rest your head against his. He can feel his body stirring and his tail twitching, roused by the comforting and blissful affection. The way you smile at him as you run your thumb along the curvature of his sharp jawline stirs a dormant ache in his soul as you lean forward and leave featherlight kisses in the crook of his neck, causing him to whimper under his breath. He buries his nose in the locks of your hair, desperately wrapping his arms around your waist, pushing your face deeper into the space between his neck and shoulder, craving the coziness and comfort of being physically close to the source of his yearning. In his dreams, your lips are able to be as soft and gentle as they are fierce and demanding, as the grip he has on reality grows weaker the longer he lets himself be trapped under the intoxicating spell you cast upon him, rendering him at the mercy of his deepest desires.

His breath becomes more labored and hitched, his temperature rising as a flush spreads across his face. His body starts moving involuntarily and he buries his hips further into his mattress, his aching cock desperate to be touched, throbbing as his precum smears against the sheets. He begins humping the bed, whining from the friction against his bare skin as he pulls you closer in his dream, shamelessly chasing after the erotic thoughts racing through his mind, fueled by the illusion of having you in his possession – ready to be ravished and worshiped by him and him alone. His full lips part as he moans your name. He thrashes around in his bed, a tingling, aching need radiates throughout his groin as his back arches off of the sheets, grinding his cock against the fabric of his blanket. He can almost feel the warmth of your body as he bucks his hips upwards once more, desperate for your heat. His fingers twitch as they clutch tighter onto the fabric, desperately trying to grab onto the illusion of you instead, wishing he could feel the texture of your skin underneath his fingertips. In his hazy state, he bites his lips and runs his fingers down his sculpted abdomen, his hand with a mind of its own, aching to reach lower. With a sigh of pleasure, he teases the tip of his leaking, throbbing erection as the muscles in his legs quiver with anticipation. He pushes his thumb against the slit of his tip, already wet with his excitement. He slowly rubs circles around his cockhead, causing his breath to hitch and his cock jerk at the sensation. In his unconscious mind, it's not his hand gripping his shaft – it's yours.

He wraps his large hand around the length of his dick, letting out a moan of pleasure as he starts to stroke, his pace increasing steadily with each pump, imagining what it would be like to have you kneeling between his spread legs, looking up at him as you jerk him off, begging to be fucked by him. His cock twitches and aches to be inside of you, to see your lewd expression as his dick fills you, his senses overwhelmed by the sight of you under him, sprawled out, sweaty and splayed wide open for the taking, gasping for air in between broken moans. His hips buck into his hand and he lets out a low growl as he feels the pressure building within him, feeling himself getting closer to the edge. He quickens the pace as he squeezes the base of his cock, stroking faster and faster, trying to keep up with the intensity of his dream. He wants to feel your velvety walls squeezing around him, milking every drop of cum from his throbbing cock. He pants heavily as the sensation of ecstasy courses through his body, moaning your name as he orgasms, his back arching off of the bed as he cums all over his hand, shooting thick ropes of hot cum onto his abs. He slows his pace, riding out his orgasm, lazily stroking his cock as it pulsates through his veins, feeling the aftershocks of pleasure tingling down his spine. With a final moan of satisfaction, he collapses on his bed, utterly spent from his activities. The euphoria of his orgasm fades away as he comes back to reality, slowly finding himself coming into consciousness. As he opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is the mess he made. He groans as he rolls out of bed, annoyed that he has to clean up after his wet dream before he can go back to sleep.

💛 Leona who is pining after you... falls into despair when he realizes his stupid feelings for you aren't going away – they're actually getting stronger by the day. You’ve made him feel like the world's not actually so cruel anymore, but he knows that his tiny, fragile castle is sure to crumble at any moment. Nothing good ever stays his way, does it? He's been telling himself that this was all some game. It's not like he actually wanted to be in a relationship with you, right? That would be far too much work. But what if you were actually worth the time? What if he could have someone who knew every aspect of his being and still loved and accepted him? What if he could be the person who's worthy of your beautiful, unrelenting love? Even as he chastises himself for entertaining the possibility of a relationship with anyone – especially a herbivore like you – a desperate, longing ache burrows into his bones, overpowering the cold, empty hollowness within him that had haunted him his whole life. This can't be love that he's feeling, and if it is... he knows now that love is the only strategy game in existence he's terrible at playing. There's no doubt in his mind he'll make the worst decisions imaginable because his entire being is clouded with insecurity. He is painfully aware that if he were to ever open himself up to the possibility of being with you, then his first thought would be of a thousand ways you would hurt him. He tortures himself with worries and fear, letting himself be consumed by anxiety.

The thing that frightens him most is becoming reliant on someone else for his happiness. Having someone whose opinion he actually values not thinking he is good enough for them is his worst nightmare. If there's one thing life has taught him, it's better to not have anyone at all. Besides, he doesn't even deserve you. There isn't a soul in this world who deserves someone like you – someone so selfless, understanding, empathetic, and forgiving. If you were his, you'd suffer. Your light would slowly flicker out from the darkness he would drown you in, just like everything else in his life that ever mattered to him. There is so much beauty to you that would go to waste in his care – why would someone as perfect as you ever settle for someone like him, anyway? There's no way you'd ever return his feelings. And even if you did… could he even be brave enough to allow you in? Does he have the strength to accept a heart freely offered to him? Will the scars and darkness within him allow him to accept such pure and unconditional love? He can't possibly be selfish enough to ask you to take the chance on him. You deserve to be with someone who is strong and complete – someone who can give you their whole being, wholly and unreservedly – not someone who is afraid of showing weakness, for fear of you leaving him broken-hearted. Someone who would actually have the capacity to love you like you should be loved. Not a broken, shattered shell of a Prince that could only ever give you pieces of his heart that are full of cracks.

Why the fuck does his chest hurt just thinking about the fact that you would be better off without him? It feels as if someone were stabbing his heart repeatedly, and no matter what he does, the wounds refuse to close and the blood continues to ooze through the cracks. He stares up at the dark ceiling of his dorm room as a single tear rolls down his cheek for the first time in years as he tries to cope with this excruciating feeling of hopelessness, despondency, and despair. The fear that you will one day be gone from his life grips his soul, his heart pleading with him to simply confess, yet his twisted mind forces him to remind himself of his inadequacy. What a sad, pathetic sight you would see, the once fearsome lion, pitifully pawing at your ankles as his heart poured itself at your feet, praying for the warmth of your love and the validation of your approval.

💛 Leona who is pining after you… hates how obsessed he is with you and your opinion of him. Every day he finds himself trying to be better because you make him want to try harder to make the world a brighter place. Maybe you're right, maybe he doesn't need to be King in order to lead people and do great things. Because of the friendship you two have nourished, he finally feels comfortable opening up to you and talking to you about what he's going through: his past, and how much he truly cares about everyone's safety, success, and overall happiness – a sentiment that's foreign to everyone who's ever known him in the past. Although he still can't bring himself to vocalize his emotions aloud, you now truly understand the message his eyes are always trying to relay, no matter how small the glimpse: even if he was destined for a fate in the shadows, his biggest hope is to someday become the leader he was supposed to be. His newfound vulnerability allows you to slowly chip off the armor that guards his heart and bring him peace, healing his wounded spirit. Because of you, he now understands what it feels like to be valued and treasured by another, and he feels empowered enough to put the effort into doing something to change his future for the better. It scares him how badly he wants to impress you, wanting you to be proud of how he's matured.

Before taking on the daunting task of bettering his Kingdom, he starts with something small – making a positive difference in your life. You actually make him feel useful. He loves the way you look up at him with admiration. He knows now that one of the reasons he fell for you so hard is because you always ask for his advice – knowing damn well he's the smartest person in this godforsaken place – and you actually take it. You listen to him and you value his opinions. Seeing things work out for the better when you take his advice and enact his plans gives him a rush of pride and confidence. It motivates him to keep working hard to have good ideas that benefit the world. He's always enjoyed helping people even though he's bad at putting it into words, or showing his true intentions, instead preferring to keep people guessing while he hides behind his indifference and nonchalant attitude. But now, thanks to you, he finds that the more time he spends caring about helping the people around him, the more understanding and honest he is with himself, the happier he becomes. He's feeling more confident stepping up to the plate, having less fear of letting himself or the other people he cares about down.

He started feeling honored to be the housewarden for Savanaclaw again and he actually takes the responsibility seriously, tackling issues and standing his ground with the students and teachers. He wants to set an example for others, making you proud of his actions by raising his standard. When it comes to issues in the school and within his territory, he's calm and diplomatic as he addresses issues – making sure everyone is heard and everyone walks away satisfied. No longer is he plagued by a lack of enthusiasm to make real, significant changes. He now genuinely enjoys himself, striving to go beyond his expectations to overcome his shortcomings, always pushing himself to think outside of the box. It's like the Leona of his past no longer exists, and he doesn't feel any resentment or shame at the thought, simply believing it's for the better that he finally has the strength to make room for a version of himself he can enjoy instead. Because of your guidance and patience with him, he’s slowly learning to no longer fight his introspective nature, instead choosing to work hard every day to embrace all aspects of himself – whether they be negative or positive. Every day is far from perfect, but he's allowing himself the respite of leaning on your shoulder, even though for now, it’s just as a friend and trusted ally, not as a lover. For the first time, he's happy with where his life is going and the person he is becoming. Through this whole experience of falling for you, he learned that there are still things worth fighting for, regardless of if you one day soon reciprocate his feelings or not. At least, that's what he keeps telling himself.

I was nervous to write this because we all know that canon Leona leaves much to be desired when it comes to his story and the complexities of his character. I've spent over a year of loving him, meticulously crafting who I think he is and who I want him to be. Most days, I'm pretty sure Leona Kingscholar is just a character who exists solely inside of my mind, completely separate from the source material. So, if this resonates with you, I am very glad! Thank you for reading. I hope I was able to bring justice to my beloved Leona! If you would like to see this series with another character, please let me know. 💛 Erica Malleleothreesome

[moonstruckme]

Ok James but him and his slytherin girlfriend seem to come out of nowhere and the boys are supportive but are more mad at James for not telling them? Idk I loved your other fic SO MUCH

Thanks for requesting <3

part 1

cw: mention of injury, no details or anything though

James Potter x Slytherin!reader ♡ 1.5k words

You hesitate outside the doorway to the infirmary at the raised voices coming from inside. 

You don’t need to be here, strictly speaking. James told you his injury wasn’t bad, and he has his friends to help him if he needs it, but…you can’t settle yourself down. You hadn’t liked the way he’d limped off the field, nor the tiny grimace on his face when Sirius had wrapped a bracing arm under his shoulders. It would be just like James to downplay how hurt he is to make you feel better, and the longer the game had gone on without him the more your guts twisted themselves into knots over the idea that he was in pain. 

You’d seethed at yourself and your stupid soft heart all the way to the infirmary, where now you’re frozen just outside like a coward. Something inside you is coiled tight with tension at the idea of going to see James Potter, on purpose and in public, even though that’s dumb because now everyone at Hogwarts knows about the two of you anyway. Your sappy display on the quidditch pitch made sure of that. But now that you have official and widely-known claim to the girlfriend title, you have just as much right to see him as anyone else. You shove your anxiety back into your stomach where it belongs and open the door. 

As soon as you’re inside, the voices become clearer. “—like this isn’t a big deal. The Prophet’s going to be all over the two of you by tomorrow, and we had to find out with every other fucking bloke at the school!”

“Pads, you don’t think I would have told you if I could?” James sounds exhausted, and something mutinous throbs in your heart. It’s followed quickly by the more familiar twinge of irritation at the use of those moronic nicknames they all have. “She made me promise not to tell anyone, including the both of you.” 

They’re talking about you. Of course they’re talking about you. What else could possibly be more important after James has fallen a good twenty feet off his broom than his dating life? This is why you hadn’t wanted to tell people. Hogwarts wears away at private lives like dementors at souls, and the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin is too strong for your relationship with James to have any hope of remaining untainted once the gossip mill got ahold of it. 

Your instincts are screaming at you to turn around and leave before they catch sight of you, but you force yourself to keep walking. If you start letting what people think about you and James affect you now, you’ll never be able to get past it. 

Remus is the first to spot you, going still as if you’ve come to hex him, but James’ face splits into a lopsided grin that has the knots in your gut loosening very slightly. 

“Especially you,” you say to Sirius as you brush past him, perching by James' pillow and weaving your fingers into his curls. There’s a wrap around his middle. It’s very hard to appear calm and blasé when you feel like you’re going to rupture something if he doesn't promise you he’s okay right this instant. “You’d have had all of Gryffindor talking about us within an hour.” 

Sirius bristles but visibly shoves his temper aside, his voice matching your coolness as he says, “If I’d told anyone, Y/L/N, it would have been to inquire about whether anyone’s noticed you gathering ingredients for amortentia recently. James doesn’t keep things from us. Artificial infatuation is the only explanation for why he’d tolerate you and your secrets.” 

“Oi,” James says, but you pat his head placatingly. You can fight your own battles. 

“That how you got this one?” you jut your chin towards Remus, who’s looking somewhat entertained as he watches the two of you spar. “If I’m ever in need of the recipe, Black, you’ll be the first person I come to, but I don’t need to resort to such measures myself.” 

Sirius glowers at you, and James sets his hand on your shoulder just as Remus wraps a pacifying arm around his boyfriend. “Alright, I think that’s enough,” the taller boy says in his usual calm manner, and though Sirius is still tensed for a fight, he allows himself to be drawn into Remus’ side.

James nods in agreement. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys, really. I thought I’d get a chance to before everyone found out, but…” He turns up his palms helplessly. “Things didn’t go as planned.” 

“We’ll get over it,” Remus says, Sirius quietly fuming beside him. “Won’t we, love?”

Sirius looks up at Remus' face, which is clearly a mistake, because he softens like butter in the sun. “Yeah, yeah, just gimme a bit,” he grumbles halfheartedly. “Anything to keep our Prongsie happy, right?”

James beams, so clearly relieved at the settlement of the conflict that you feel a bit guilty for participating in it. He kisses you on the cheek, chuckling against your skin. “You stink.” 

“Some of us stuck around to play the whole game,” you reply.

“Ouch,” James says, but he’s grinning. “Couldn’t really help that, could I?”

You give him a look to let him know you haven’t forgotten how his negligence had gotten him hurt. “Debatable.” 

You hear Remus chuckle but don’t take your eyes off James’ face, inspecting it for signs of the pain you suspect he’s hiding. “How bad is it really?” you ask, softening your voice even though there’s no chance of his friends not hearing you. 

James worries his lip, big brown eyes looking into yours guiltily. “Pomphrey says I broke three ribs and bruised my tailbone pretty badly. Minor concussion, too, but nothing serious.” 

Sounds serious enough to you. You ghost a hand over the back of his head as if you’ll be able to find and fix his hurt. He leans into your palm though, so it’s not for nothing. “I’m sorry I walked away out there,” you all but whisper. “I should have stayed with you.” 

James eyebrows pinch together. “Hey, sweetheart, it’s okay,” he promises just as softly. He knows what it costs you to talk like this in front of people, like you’re turning yourself inside out for them to judge and stab at as they please, but James has no such reservations. He dots a kiss, feather-light, at the top of your cheekbone, wrapping an arm around you protectively. “Thanks for coming, I mean it.” 

You clear your throat. “Yeah, and in my fucking quidditch gear,” you say in your normal voice, attempting to banish the heavy mood. As if your heart isn’t still beating, hummingbird-fast and fragile, in your throat. “We both need to change and shower, and then you should rest. Did Pomphrey say you could leave?”

James nods, still looking at you like you’ve cracked open in his hands (he might be right; it feels like you have, and it wouldn’t even be the first time today). He rubs your upper arm affectionately, but his voice is easygoing when he says, “Yup, I’m good to go.” 

Sirius steps forward, as though to remind the two of you that he is, in fact, also present. “Great. We’ll walk you back to the room.” 

You turn to him, not quite ready for your time with James to be up and aching for the opportunity to dote on him in private. “That’s okay, I can take him.” 

Sirius’ eyes narrow. “You can’t even get into our dorms.” 

“Please, like Gryffindor’s riddles are so perplexing.” 

“I don’t need an escort,” James interjects. He pushes himself up with a grimace. 

You halt him with your hands on his shoulders and Remus says, “Don’t be stupid, Prongs, you can barely walk.” 

“I’ve got him,” you say firmly. Sirius stares you down, but you don’t flinch from his stony gaze. You know he doesn’t trust you. You don’t think he’d willingly trust any Slytherin. Since you’ve been at Hogwarts, the talk in your house has always been that Sirius Black shuns his family because they’re all Slytherins. Although James assures you there’s more to the story than that, it’s still obvious to anyone that he considers his friends his true family. He won’t entrust just anyone with James’ safety. But maybe that’s one thing you can agree upon. 

He must see something of this in your face, because after a minute Sirius relents, rolling his eyes. “Fine,” he says. “I wanted to stop by the kitchens anyway.”

James is looking between the two of you curiously, aware that something has transpired but not quite sure what. 

You don’t give Sirius a chance to change his mind. “Alright,” you say, gripping James' forearms and helping him to stand. “Let’s go, pretty boy.” 

James drapes his arm across your shoulders gamely, and the two of you start out the door. “I don’t think that’s the insult you think it is.”

[nibbelraz]

I am endlessly entertained by the prospect of MBJ just having literally no clue how human physiology works, and thus believing everything he hears (which, paired with SQH's propensity for saying dumb shit without thinking, is a recipe for disaster)

like:

SQH: ugh if I read any more expense reports my eyeballs will fall out of my head

MBJ: *frantically gathering as many expense reports as he can carry before shoving them into the fire*

SQH: *literally watching all his work burn up in flames* i-

MBJ: please hold in your eyeballs

______

SQH, offhandedly: lmao wei qingwei ate so many bao buns at the festival that I honestly think he's going to turn into one

MBJ, absolutely horrified, actually gives his condolences to the (very confused) human man because this affliction which will soon take his humanity is a fate worse than death. Also he starts hiding SQH's melon seeds

_____

SQH: ugh I'm so stressed out i'm gonna EXPLODE

MBJ: NO-

Yes YES OH man Shang Qinghua definitely has no filter when complaining about stuff, Poor Mobei he's learning so many awful things about humans and how MUCH DANGER THEYRE IN (how much danger his favorite human is in)

He tries to learn more about what can happen to his poor human so he's spying on Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghuas meetings only to hear them BOTH dramatically explain how tired they are, Shen Qingqiu with some peak lord duties juggled with Binghe and Shang Qinghua with just the amount of paper work and how they both won't make it if things don't slow down soon which prompts Mobei to immediately tell Luo Binghe that his consort is going to DIE if he doesn't get rest immediately this second

I can see this getting SO out of hand so fast, He'd bury Shang Qinghua in blankets and hold him tight so absolutely nothing can bother him and he'd be safe

[redclercs]

DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

ii. do you really wanna know where i was april 29th?

— the one where you and him end up in the same room at the same time.

warnings: kind reminder that the pictures are just used for entertainment and don’t describe what the main character is supposed to look like also, there are some f1 inaccuracies but this is fiction so please ignore them thank you❤️ 2k words.

masterlist ✢ next

Liked by scuderiaferrari, vicpresley, tchalamet and others.

View comments

softyn it’s so good to see you having fun!!

myaid4nfeels so you’re already on the hunt huh

poppyseeds mother!! suddenly I love fast cars vroom vroom

greenleafss @/priscibby you were right she def has another man

frenziekenzie okay cool but I need you to talk about Aidan I’m a child of divorce.

Baku, Azerbaijan, April 29th.

HERE, here is where you end up when you let your agent say yes to every commercial offer you get no matter how random it is. And one day late, to top things off. Many people are angry at you, and you’re getting an earful as soon as the cameras shut down, but for now all you can do is laugh at terrible jokes, like the lady that you are, pretend to sip the frankly horrendous energy drink your manager keeps handing you, and appear very sorry about your previous absence.

You’re not even supposed to be here, you had no idea signing the stupid contract with Red Elix forced you to come to every sponsor event that they had. Having become the most recent sponsor for Ferrari’s F1 team, the men in charge couldn’t wait to show you off, their most important ambassador. Or their shiniest toy, it's all semantics.

"Come on, the shootout is about to start!" the old man whose name you have already forgotten holds your hand, leading you away from the refreshments table where you're looking something drinkable, preferably with alcohol, although it wouldn't help your jetlag.

You spent the eighteen hours of your flight on a F1 binge, because you weren't about to make a fool of yourself by showing up to a Grand Prix having zero idea of whatever was going on other than the cars going really, really fast. Some things are still mildly confusing, like the point distribution and why on Earth there is a sprint race and then a 'real' race the next day. But you're proud of your ability to retain information, you're an actress after all, there are a hundred scripts loaded into your brain.

"We root for the red cars, sweetheart," the man is still holding your hand and it's starting to feel gross, it's papery and sweaty at the same time. It's like he's talking to a child, ennunciating slowly and clearly, and then pointing at the screen where they take turns to focus on drivers sixteen and fifty-five.

Unsurprisingly, you'd figured as much, you're in the Ferrari Suite, everything is fucking red. A wave of annoyance runs through you, but you're used to men being patronizing, so you just smile and take the chance to slip your hand out of his grip, covering your face coyly. "I'll keep an eye on them!"

He turns around after laughing at your 'cuteness' or stupidity, really. Men love laughing at women, especially those whom they deem to be dumb.

"Could you please, please, get me some water? Not Elix, not anything else, water." you whisper to your manager just as he's made himself comfortable to watch the Sprint Shootout. He sends a resented look your way but still gets up from his chair to get you a closed bottle of water. Walter is being forced to be here as much as you are, at least he doesn’t have a contract that keeps him tied to Elix for every race.

The man from before is talking to you again and you try your best not to shut down and tune him out. He's explaining the rules of the Shootout but you couldn't care less about anything that leaves his mouth, also the cars are already coming out of their respective garage and there's so much noise it doesn't even matter how much he adjusts the volume of his voice.

Charles and Carlos, you have learned their names after an hour of having their enlarged picture stare at you from the main wall of the Suite. Charles ended up in first place and he's starting P1 later and tomorrow. Nice. Carlos is struggling a little, apparently, but seeing how fast these silly cars go and how tight the curves are, you can't blame him.

As soon as the Shootout is over, there is chaos again. You are dragged here, there and back, forced to smile for pictures with strangers who have the audacity to squeeze your waist and whisper in your ear, well, that's definitely worse than having to drink the Red Elix.

There is another rush as both drivers come back for a debrief and to get some rest before the Sprint, they're a blur surrounded by people in red uniforms blabbering instructions, and the shouts of 'good job!' and 'i love you!' that have followed them from the paddock.

"Mr. Schafer…” a boney boy with glasses leans down to talk to the guy that has branded you as his for the evening.

Schafer gives him a dirty look, annoyed by the interruption of his incredibly boring story about how he is a self-made multimillionaire. "What?" he barks.

"They- they said not now," the boy whispers shyly, no, not shyly, scared. "They said the drivers need to focus, but maybe later after the Sprint..."

A can of Elix flies in the air and you look in poorly disguised repugnance at the way it puddles close to your Air Force sneakers. The boy has taken a step back, now visibly shaking and your disgust is redirected to the man that just yelled at him and is throwing a temper tantrum.

"Not right now?!" he continues, face turning purple. "What if I had said 'not right now' when they asked me to give them MY money, huh?!"

"T-they said—"

"I don't care what they said! It's your job to get the pictures of them with the Elix! You're useless!"

Other people are staring at you, including most of the Ferrari Hospitality Team, and it makes you feel embarassed that they have most likely pegged you as similar to Schafer from how inseparable you are.

"Why don't we calm down a bit?" you soothe, forcing yourself to run your hand down his arm and back up. "You know how these pilots are, divas at best."

You don't know either of the guys who have disappeared inside the Suite, and by the looks the Hospitality Team gives you once again, you're certain you are completely mistaken. But you don't care, because the media boy is giving you a grateful look, and although he's still visibly fuming, the money guy has stopped yelling.

"You're right sweetheart," Schafer says patting your hand and taking it back to his arm. "Later, then." he warns the media boy, who takes that as his sign to run away.

────────────

Ferrari is full of hope and celebrations when the Sprint ends, you're once again paraded around but at least it's way more fun this time. You get to be near the podium and witness first-hand whatever rituals they play out. The fun is short-lived though, when you are warned by your manager that Mr. Schafer wants to take you out to dinner tonight, you don't have or want to know more, you know what he wants to achieve.

You walk back to the Suite with your manager, trying your best to avoid Mr. Schafer, who is frantically looking for you. He's missing his arm-candy badly.

Your jetlag has worsened, and you have a terrible headache, plus however much Elix you've drank despite taking the smallest sips possible, is making you nauseous.

You need five minutes to yourself. It's all you ask for. You haven't even been able to get a break in the fucking bathroom. Your manager is constantly yelling, already getting his own frustration out on you for whatever shit the Elix team gave him after you missed the first day of the Grand Prix.

In the midst of the chaos, you slip away. Eager to find a place to breathe and enjoy your own company. Or dissociate, again, semantics.

You find yourself in front of two doors with the numbers sixteen and fifty-five identifying whom they each belong to. They are empty, and you know it because both drivers are still in their debriefing/celebration/whatever else they could be doing that once again, won't allow them to pose for the Elix post-race photos.

You are at a crossroads, you are well aware this are private rooms for a reason, but you also know there isn't anywhere more deserted than these rooms.

Sixteen or fifty-five? Who is least likely to freak out if by any miscalculation on your part they found you here? Well, one of them ended the day on a happier note than the other, so...

You open the door marked with the number sixteen and sigh in relief. Five minutes and that's it. Then you can go back and play dumb to Schafer and beg for you manager to finally take you to the hotel.

There is a miscalculation on your part, and five minutes later, just as you're about to get up and leave (after stealing one bottle of water and a granola bar from Charles' stash) the door opens again, revealing the disheveled driver, holding a small plaque with a number two in one hand and a Pirelli cap in the other. He is far more handsome up close, there isn't a screen or photograph that does him justice, and you've seen plenty of both during the day.

"You are not supposed to be here," is the first thing he says, frowning.

"I know," you feign nonchalance as best you can, although you are embarrassed. "I was leaving."

Charles still wears that confused expression on his face, and it makes you glad it hasn't changed to anger. "What were you doing here?"

"Stealing your refreshments," which is not a lie, as you're still holding both things in one hand, not without struggle.

He's not freaking out, which comes across as strange. How many times has he come to his private room to find a random girl waiting for him?

"Should have taken the Elix," he mutters, throwing the Pirelli cap in the empty part of the couch you had been occupying minutes before. "That thing is disgusting."

You can't help but chortle a laugh. "Glad you think so,"

Awkward silence finally falls in the room, and you know that's the signal for you to exit. You're still invading his privacy and while you're glad he really didn't seem to mind, you don't know how much longer he will be so patient.

"Don't tell anyone you were here, okay?" he calls after you, "Someone might get fired."

You nod but he doesn't see you, already minding his own business in his little private bubble. You're jealous to leave him in a space all to himself.

────────────

It takes an hour to get both drivers and you in the same room for the pictures Elix is dying to get. This is far from ridiculous, but you have a contract and so does Ferrari, so you don't have much of a choice.

"Are you feeling better?" Charles asks, and you think he's talking to his team mate until he clears his throat right in front of you. He's holding the Red Elix, just like the one in his private room.

"Who? Me?" you ask stupidly, and then you take a sip of the Gold Elix in your hand, it's so much worse than the Red.

"Yes, you."

"I'm okay, why?" you're suddenly defensive, this is the second time this guy sees you and he's acting all weird.

"Good," he says and also drinks from his Elix, failing to hide his distaste with a purse from his lips. "This thing is really gross," he whispers, and this time his teammate does join the conversation only by laughing.

Both must be exhausted and yet they're trying to put on a good show for the sponsors.

"I'm sorry about intruding in your room," you lower your voice, squeezing your drink.

Charles shrugs lightly, and drinks again, this time without grimacing. "Sometimes I need five minutes too."

You smile, and it's the first sincere smile you've shown all day.

"My mum likes your movies," he says casually, as someone yells that you need 'just one more picture, please!'

You dread the part where he says something along the lines of "Supercut is the best!" but instead, after he stops the automatic motion of taking the red can to his lips, he adds: "I like Loneliness, it's so depressing."

And you throw your head back to laugh.

─── team principal radio: ❝hello! thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed! i would appreciate to know your thoughts too! ♡❞

[plush-rabbit]

The One Where Adam Steals Lucifer's Babe

Word Count: 4.9K A/N: I had an idea about this, but I wanted to get it out. This was supposed to be headcanons, but it turned into a story!! woo(•_•)  This is also not done. Like I wanted it to be be headcanons so bad, but i need to establish a plot line because im like dumb. um, so yeah. if this does become anything more, i think max three chapter Its written as if Adam is a sinner so yeah!! -

Dating the King of Hell should be easy- nothing short of bliss and love. And it is easy being with the King of Hell, when he has to make appearances, and he has to put up a front. But being with Lucifer is much more difficult. You know he’s not over Lilith, and you aren’t even close to being a replacement for her. And yet, he keeps you around. You can trick yourself that he still wants you, that maybe he does enjoy being with you. But lying to yourself doesn't make anything easier. You walk out of the castle without a word to Lucifer, childishly hoping that he’d figure out that you weren’t there on his own. On your stroll to nowhere in particular, you check your phone constantly, hoping to see a missed message or call from him- some type of form that he still takes notice of you. You have to silence your phone when you feel tears prick your eyes at the empty screen.

You wind up in some sleazy bar, a bit too tipsy, and far too melancholic  to do anything more than swirl a glass of alcohol with melting ice. You watch the condensation drip down the side of the glass, creating a ring over the coaster. Beside you, the chair scrapes, and your spirits are lifted. It’s Lucifer! He’s chased you down and now he’s going to apologize and proclaim his- your shoulders fall when you realize that it’s not Lucifer. The realization leaves you cold and far lonelier than you initially were. Instead, it’s Adam- the First Man. You wonder for a brief moment if he even still calls himself that.

“Mind your fuckin’ business,” he sneers, sitting beside you. He lifts his hand, and the bartender pushes a glass and a bottle towards him, muttering something about a tab under his breath before turning his attention elsewhere. 

You heard he had become a Sinner- the very thing he sought to kill for entertainment not that long ago. However, you had yet to see him since he was stabbed by Niffty. You wonder if his new form has a hole in his back now.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he tells you, malice tinged at his words, but he makes no real motion to actively wave you off. You’re sure he would have if he was still divine.

A closer inspection reveals that he’s in far worse shape than you could have imagined. A beard that’s in the awkward phase of growing out, deep bags under his eyes, and gaunt cheeks. Hell has not been kind to him. But, what else could you have expected? He was an exorcist- the exorcist- and now, he’s stuck in Hell. Honestly, you should be surprised that his head isn’t mounted somewhere.

You turn back to your drink, and wipe a line of condensation off. “I’m surprised you’d even show your face around these parts,” you mumble, taking a swig of your drink. It burns going down, and you try to hide your displeased expression.

“Fuck you,” he hisses out, taking a long drink from the bottle.

“You know, as a former exorcist, I’d suggest being nice to demons around these parts.” You raise your hand at the bartender, and he walks over, and places the tab in front of you. “You never know who you’re gonna piss off next.” You leave a hefty amount, enough to cover your drinks and leave a pretty tip. 

“What? You’re gonna sick Lucifer on me?” You turn to him, embarrassment hot on your cheeks, and he wears a crooked smile. “Your face and his are plastered everywhere I look.”

With a sigh, you push the check away from you. “Must suck for you,” you mumble. His response is to take a drink from the bottle. “I hated having my picture taken before,” you tell him, unsure if he’s even listening or not. “I felt that they never really got my good side.”

“I’d get photographed all the time in Heaven,” he says in a low tone after a moment of silence. “Bitches could never get enough of me.” You scrunch your nose at the word, and fold the straw wrapper into squares. “Fucking loved it.”

“Wish I loved the camera.” You cross your ankles together, tucking them under the seat of the stool. “I hated being looked at.”

There's a pause in the conversation, long enough that you believe the small talk has ended. You could go back to the castle but if Lucifer hadn't taken notice of your absence, you'd surely have a breakdown. Maybe you could go to the hotel. Charlie would understand. “You still get your picture taken?” Adam asks, his voice startling you. 

You tilt your head to the side, underneath the seat, your legs twist around themselves. “Not as often as I used to. I think it was more like uh-” you wave your hand around and the folded wrapper unfurls itself- “shock value? I think. Like the King of Hell downgrading to some resident.” You smile bitterly. “Not even a Goetia or anything.”

“A Goetia?”

“These magical birds.” You look at him. “You’ve been in Hell for a bit, haven’t you? I’m surprised you haven’t heard or seen them.”

“I don’t get out a lot.”

“‘Cause you’re hated?” You ask, a wicked tone laced in your words. Adam responds by  mocking your voice with the same question. You scoff with a smile on your face. “I wonder why, if you’re such a peach.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

It’s silent. And you watch as the bartender grabs your drink, leaving the coaster behind. A memory of drinking with Lucifer pops into your head- his honeyed smile as he pours you a glass of wine that you would have never been able to afford, to even be aware of such a delicacy that existed in Hell. Never would he have taken you to some dingy bar where less than savory individuals reside. 

You’ve been taken care of. Pampered and adored for a considerable amount of time, before all the light had dimmed. You should have never allowed yourself to get used to such treasures. You glance over at Adam, and wonder if he can understand. “Do you come here often?” You ask him, crossing your arms over the bar. He chokes on his drink and slams the bottle down. He gives you a bewildered stare and you raise your shoulders defensively. “What? I’m just asking,” you say. “The bartender looks like he knows you.” You catch the bartender’s eyes and he quickly looks away. “Or at least enough to keep a tab open.”

“There’s not much to do around here,” he answers.

You fill your cheeks with air and let it slowly blow out through pursed lips. There's plenty to do- sort of. Minus the drugs and sex, most of Hell's greatest features are stuck in other rings. “There’s the Cannibal Sector,” you offer. “You gotta be careful but Rosie is nice and she sells pretty things. I have this hairpin in the shape of a human hand.” Adam gives you a look. “It might be a real hand, huh.”

“The fuck are you even doing out of your castle.”

You deflate. “Rough night,” you say with a sigh. “What about you?”

“Rough night,” he answers

You nod in solidarity. “I’m not usually a drinker,” you confess. “The taste is a bit too bitter for my liking. But being at the castle just wasn’t-” it’s not for you, the pampered life, acting as a placeholder, the King- “I didn’t want to be there.”

When Adam fails to say anything else, you feel embarrassed to even say something like that to the former angel beside you. He wouldn’t care. He shouldn’t care. Why would he ever worry himself over the likes of you, when your supposed partner couldn’t. He sniffs, and places the bottle down. It’s nearly empty. 

“Where do you want to be then?” His eyes are still golden, unblinking as he stares. 

Gold meets your own eyes, and you flicker to the horns over his head, curling overhead much like his former exorcist mask. You look back at his eyes, at the way he holds the bottle loosely. “I don’t know,” you confess. 

There’s a moment of silence, and he finishes the last bit of alcohol. You wonder how many he usually drinks before he goes back home. “You wanna come over?” He asks, and there’s a shade darker that brushes against his cheeks, and he tries to ask nonchalantly, but he toys with the words, and he swallows too harshly for him to not be worried about your answer. As if he’s asking some forbidden question. But, you’re lonely, and you don’t want to be alone in a bar longer than you already have been. 

You look at the exit, half-hoping that Lucifer would be there, ready to take you to his home, and a part of you is glad that he isn’t there. You look back at Adam, and nod your head. “Lead the way,” you tell him.

The sound of the bartender yelling behind you about a tab, has you smiling, feeling as if you’re dining and dashing despite you having paid for your portion. Adam doesn’t seem to care, walking without breaking a stride, just waving his hand without looking back. 

It doesn’t take long before you’re climbing up steps that need to be looked at, rust falling off with each bounce. You’re sure that you can hear something unsavory going on in a room, but a whistle from Adam has you scurrying along. There’s no reason that you should know anything more than you already do. 

You enter his apartment, and take a careful look around. It’s messy- clothes strewn across, dishes left out, and you feel pity for him. A single couch is close enough to the rather small television, a coffee table that has paint chipping and dents is one of the few pieces of furniture in the rooms. A sliding door is closed, a few broken blinds giving you just a glimpse into the outside. “You certainly,” you pause, trying to find something nice to say, “have a place,” you end defeatedly. You stand near the door, clicking the lock into place, as if that would protect you from any dangers out in the world. Perhaps you should be worried about Adam, about the angel who would bear his fangs and be drenched in blood, too excited about senseless murder. But you catch him kicking things under the couch, trying to spruce up the place even if just by a smidge.

“Fuck you,” he says without conviction. He grabs at a pile of clothes and tosses it on top of a chair, leaving the couch clear for you and him to sit. Smiling softly, you take a seat. He places himself close to the arm rest, and watches as you look around. “I uh, I clean- sometimes.” He sounds unsure of himself.

“I like cleaning,” you tell him, grabbing at a magazine on the worn out coffee table. It’s some tabloid, and you see a snippet of you and Lucifer in the corner. You turn to the page where you two are supposed to be. It’s titled as “Issues at Home?” You frown, and turn to another page. “I like organizing and stuff. Um, it helps uh, Lucifer. He does a lot of projects.”

“You don’t got any?”

“I have hobbies, but they come and go.” Your eyes skim the page, talking about Velvette’s new clothing line. You pull your lips into a thin line, a part of you wants to wear her outfits, but you aren’t sure you could pull them off. “It’s all just-” you flutter a hand in the air- “you know, stuff.” You place the magazine back on the table. “What about you?”

He smiles and leans back on the couch, the cushion creasing under his weight. “I like to play the guitar.” You perk at the mention, and watch as he rests his hands over his stomach. “I was in a band. Played the guitar, got all the chicks that I wanted.”

“Were you good at the guitar?”

He nods his head. “Oh, you should’ve fucking seen me. I was like a fucking god on stage.” He holds his hands out and mimics a guitar. You huff out a laugh, and watch as he lets his hands fall. “I got to fuck whoever I wanted. And I mean, who wouldn’t want to fuck me? Look at me.” he tosses you a lazy look, matched with a sly smile, and you can see how people would be attracted to him. “I was the first dick– of course, everyone wanted me.”

“What songs would you perform?”

“Rock mostly.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Crowd went wild.”

“You’d perform in heaven?”

He shrugs. “Most of the time. If I felt bold, sometimes the band and I would do a show on Earth. I’m telling you humans would just throw themselves at you, begging to be fucked in some grimy ass restroom.”

You scrunch your nose. “Sounds gross.”

“It was,” he says with a faltering smile. He cocks his head to the side, and there’s a softness to his words. “Gross as shit, but the girls were hot.” 

You cross your ankles together, and turn to face him. Your arm cushions itself between the couch and your head to watch him. “Do you not play anymore?” you ask hesitantly,

He sucks on his bottom lip, teething at the skin, before letting it go. “I haven’t tried to summon my harp- guitar- shit, thing, since I’ve been here.” He closes his hands into a loose fist and kicks his legs up on the beaten coffee table. “There’s this pawn shop a few streets down, and they have this guitar for sale.”

“Are you thinking about buying it?”

“I have other shit to worry about.” He gives you a look, a fleeting sense of  exhaustion and acceptance that washes over him, that makes him feel a bit more real, a bit more like you. “It isn’t even that good.” He sounds like a child, trying to justify something to themselves. “It’s beat up, and the strings are probably worn-” he shakes his head- “it's not worth it.” You open your mouth to reassure him that it probably is worth it. That despite the condition that it’s in and the price for it, if he wants it, it's worth it. Even if he could never play it, even if it’ll never be restored to its original beauty, it would be his. You only manage to suck in a gulp of air, when a knocking at the balcony door grabs your attention. “Some fucking bird that keeps bothering me.” He looks over at you, and glances back to the door, and back at you. “I have a balcony. Wanna sit outside?”

You nod quickly, closing your mouth. “Yeah.” 

He walks past the door, and leaves it open for you. Just like when you entered, you close the door behind you, half-heartedly hoping that it won’t lock behind you. His balcony holds two chairs- both different kinds and both equally as rough looking. A part of you wonders where exactly he got this furniture. There’s a dying plant shoved in the corner, the leaves brown and stem wilting under the weight of the dying leaves. 

“Quit judging,” he snips. 

You scoff, a smile teasing at the corner of your lips. The air of Hell is cool, wind breezing over your skin and you stare down into the streets, watching as Imps and Sinners live their lives, peacefully uninterrupted. Sitting down, your breath hitches when the chair dips under your weight. It’s quiet between the two of you, silence in each other’s company where you both just stare at the world in front of you. 

You can see the holy light from the embassy, and you can see Heaven’s light- the rings that are protected by wings. It lights up the night sky far better than the pentagram ever has, and sitting under the light of it, makes you wonder if anything is different in Heaven since Adam’s death- or rather, reincarnation. “Do you miss Heaven?” You ask, before you can register the weight of the words that it holds. You turn to him, almost scared of any answer that he would give.

“That’s a stupid question,” he spits out. You don’t respond, and you stay looking at him. He turns his head to avoid your gaze, his legs stretching out in front of him. After a beat of silence, he looks ahead of him. “Yeah,” he breathes out. “I do.”

“What do you miss about it?”

“Full of fucking questions, aren’t ya?” He stays silent, and after a moment, he lets out a soft sigh. “Everything.”

“There’s not many stories about Heaven down here. You know, minus the ones that we all know. The golden gates-”

“Pearly gates,” he corrects. You look at him, and he has his eyes casted down. “They’re pearly.”

“The pearly gates,” you correct, “the clouds, the happiness and peace. I just- Other than that, there’s nothing else to go off of. But I guess, why would I know. Heaven seems so far away, like some mythical place.”

“Your boyfriend doesn’t talk about it?” Adam asks with a sneer.

“No,” you answer without hesitation. “He doesn’t like talking about Heaven. Sometimes-” you lick your lips- “Sometimes it feels like he hates everything and everyone down here. Like he can’t stand the idea that he’s stuck here.” You scratch your neck, and pinch your legs together. “It’s like the memories of Heaven are too painful.”

“That magazine said y’all were breaking up.”

“Maybe,” you answer.

“You can talk about it if you want. Would make this night a helluva lot more interesting.” You look at him. “I’m all ears.”

“And horns,” you tease.

“Fuck you,” he says with an impish tone.

You smile, and kick out your legs. Your phone buzzes, and with hope, you believe that it’ll be Lucifer. Your heart sinks when it’s only a notification from Sinstagram. With a frown, you silence your phone. “In the beginning, it was easy to forget that he was married. I mean, I always knew. He has her portraits hanging, and he talks about Charlie constantly.” You smile bitterly and scratch at your phone case. “I don’t blame him for that, but-” you shrug- “it hurts knowing that he still clings to her.” When Adam stays silent, you continue. “He can be kind- real attentive and sweet. But sometimes, when he’s had a uh-” you struggle to find a word- “a bad day, he gets real low. And I hate to admit it, but he gets clingy and it’s nice to know that I can still serve him in some way.”  Your fingers pinch at the bridge of your nose, and you let your hand cover your mouth. “But then, there are moments, where it feels like he’s actually looking at me- where he’s just everything,” you say wistfully, your hand stretching out in front of you, clasping around the night air. You glance at Adam, who watches your hand as you pull it back to yourself. “Sorry, I uh, I didn’t mean to ramble.”

“So why’d you leave then?”

Perhaps you’d get a biased opinion- you’re aware of how Adam feels over Lucifer, and practically every other inhabitant of Hell. He thinks of himself above any other, his own pride being the very thing that made him unaware of Niffty running towards him. You chew on your lip, your hand scratching over your neck. You need to speak to someone. No one else at the hotel will ever give you a straight answer- or at least the answer that you want to hear.

With a sigh, you kick your legs out in front of you. “I like Lucifer.” You can feel his eyes on you. “But, sometimes,” you drag the word, and your body feels hot, “it’s like he’s not present in the relationship. He gives a lot, but he hardly ever asks for anything.”

There’s a pause. “What could you even give him?” he asks in sincerity. 

There’s a pang in your chest, wrapping tightly, threatening to crush your bones, and leaving you a battered and broken mess on Adam’s balcony. You can’t give him anything that he doesn’t want. He has his daughter, he had his wife, he has his title for better or for worse. All you can offer is a moment of content, and even then it seems that you can no longer do that.

You shrug your shoulders at an attempt of a weak answer. “I know that he’s still not over his wife. Or ex-wife. I'm not too sure of the title and I hate to ask. He gets all mopey and deflective.” You kick at the ground, and insecurity hugs you tightly, and drips into your words. “He stares at portraits of her, and well, it’s hard to compete with the literal Queen of Hell, when I’m just-” your jaw stiffens, and you look at the ground through blurring eyes- “me.” You stand in her shadow without even having met her. “Even when I dress up, I feel like a child playing pretend. I don’t- I’m not like her.” You’ve stared at her portraits that still hang in the palace, and they consume you. Her smile, her delicate hands, and the elegance that is so evident in portraits.  It feels childish to compare yourself to someone so regal and poised. 

“Yeah,” he sighs. “My ex was pretty hot.” Your eyes widen, and you turn to him. “They both were.” He lets out a sigh, and keeps his eyes fixed in front of him.

“Adam,” you squeak out. “I’m sorry.” You shake your head, blood rushing to your face, making your body uncomfortably warm. “I hadn’t meant- I didn’t mean to talk about her with you. I’m so sorry.”

“The fuck are you apologizing for?” He asks, eyes narrowed and mouth twisting to an ugly sneer.

You cross your arms over your chest, bringing them to an ‘X’ where your hands curve over your biceps. “It’s just that I’m talking about Lucifer and your ex-wife.” You frown when he gives you an ugly look. “I just- I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

He gives a shrug of his shoulders, his gaze still focused elsewhere. “Lucifer already talked shit about how he banged both of them. It's whatever.”

Your brows furrow, and you watch as Adam pats his pockets, fisting a hand into one of his pants pockets. He fishes out a pack of cigarettes, grabbing on and sticking the tan end of it into his mouth. He motions the carton at you, and you pull your mouth into a thin line. 

“If you're gonna bitch about smoking, you're one lame sinner.”

“Eve? He slept with Eve, too?”

“Oh shit.” The cigarette hangs between his teeth, until pulls it back into his mouth. “You didn't know.” He almost sounds apologetic. He grabs at a lighter and it takes a few clicks to light the white of the stick.

“He doesn't really talk about his sex life before me.” You slump further into yourself, your nails scratching over your skin. “It's in the past. I know I shouldn't be hurt over what he's chosen to share with me, but-” you toss your head back, and in the red sky, the stars are dim. “I don’t know. It just feels like another kick on a shitty night, ya know?”

“I’m shitty?” He almost sounds offended. 

“No, no” you shake your head. “If anything, you’re like the one good thing out of this night.”

“Yeah, well, you ain’t so bad yourself.” You turn to him, your head cocked to the side. “You got a nice body. If you weren’t stuck here, I would’ve bagged you already.” You stretch your lips thin, and Adam shrugs, blowing out a puff of smoke.  “You’re easy on the eyes.”

“Thanks Adam,” you say hesitantly. He holds out the cigarette towards you and you wave your hand. “I’m good.”

“So what now? You gonna go back to him?”

“I don’t even think he knows that I’m gone,” you say honestly. The confession makes you feel lighter than you thought it would. “It’s comfortable with him. It’s easy- I don’t have to worry about things, but, I also don’t have to worry about anything. And sometimes, I want to worry. I want him and I to argue about dumb shit, and I want to worry if he’s coming to bed or not, and not being resigned to the fact that I know he won’t.”

The silence is broken by the scraping of the chair, and you watch as he rises, stretching his arms above him, the cigarette pinched between his fingers. “Eve tolerated me,” he says quietly, letting out a breath of smoke. You look at him, biting at the inside of your cheeks. “She loved me for a while. She was devoted to me. But I uh- I’m pretty sure that was because she was made from me.” A hand cups over his side. “Blind loyalty or whatever. But when she bit that apple, whatever she felt for me was gone.” He speaks quietly, and slowly, as if the words and the thoughts of it were slowly piecing themselves together, a puzzle that he had long put away in order for it to never make sense. “She didn’t care what I did as long as I left her and the-'' someone below lets out a scream, and Adam turns to you, his face flashing a moment of vulnerability before he looks away and puts out the cigarette under his boot. “Well, Eve was Eve.” His brows soften, and he looks tired. “I didn’t tolerate her.”

“Meaning?” You ask quietly.

He shrugs. “I did love her. She had a part of me after all.” He looks over at you, and his hand tightens over his side, pulling at the fabric. “But that’s not important anymore.” He turns away, and walks back inside. You scurry after him, making sure to lock the balcony door behind you.

You stand awkwardly in the room, unsure of what to do next. Truth be told, you had planned to spend the night in some dingy motel if Adam hadn’t sat beside you. But now you’re here, in his dingy apartment, truths and insecurities laid out for the two of you to bear witness. A part of you wants to bid him goodnight, and maybe when you’d see him out in the streets, you’d give him a  cordial nod, and remember how he listened and talked about his ex-wife, and he’d remember you in positive light, despite you only being a mess of insecurities wrapped in sin. 

But now, you don’t want to leave. At least a part of you wants to continue this conversation, to keep the comfort wrapped tight around you. You tap your foot against the ground and Adam looks at you, his eyes staring at yours, unwavering from yours. You hadn’t realized just how powerful he stood beforehand. 

“You can stay if you want,” he says slowly, unsure of the words that he’s saying. “Take the couch or whatever,” he attempts to sound indifferent, but you can hear the sincerity in the words, uncomfortable, but sincere. “I got a spare blanket you can use.” His teeth are sharp, and they peek out to tease at his bottom lip.

“Really?” You ask, eyes wide and you take a step forward, and he looks away. “I can?”

His mouth thins into a grimace, and he gives a forced shrug. “Do whatever you want.”

You look at the couch. It wasn’t uncomfortable to sit on, but you’re sure you’ll wake up with a sore back. However, you don’t want to go back to Lucifer, and you don’t want to go to some dingy motel where you’re sure you’ll drink until you’re sick. Looking back at Adam, you nod, a smiling teasing at the corners of your lips, and he finally looks away from you.

“Yes!” You clear your throat. “Yes,” you say in a softer tone. “I’d like that. Thank you, Adam.”

“Whatever.” He walks into his bedroom, and you sit on the couch. He returns with a blanket, and he stands at the end of the couch, looking at you. “I’m not making you breakfast or anything. You gotta figure that shit out on your own.” You nod. The only real worry that you have is that your phone’s battery is at an uncomfortable percentage that you aren’t sure is going to last you.

“I hope Hell is nice for you.” He raises his brows at you. “It’s shitty and the smell of decay is always kinda there, but sometimes, it’s nice down here.”

“Hell is supposed to suck.”

“And it does,” you say with a shrug. “But not all the time, Ads.”

“Don’t call me that.” He tosses a blanket at you- it’s thin and threads have begun to unravel at the seams, but it’s soft. “I’m turning off the lights.”

“Goodnight,” you call out, holding the blanket close to you. You can only smile when the response is a closed door.  

[thefanficmonster]

Reader being jealous of Carmen and Sydney

Oooh I love that idea, dear! Hope you enjoy 💕

Pairing: Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Smoking, Swearing, Minor SPOILERS for The Bear (S2)

Genre: Fluff, Humor, Romance

The regular hustle and bustle of people making their way home from work has taken over Chicago now that the clock has passed 3 PM. Although sounds of chaos have been rattling the establishment since the hollow ungodly hours of the morning. Shouting bouncing off the walls, shit breaking, Fak and Richie being Fak and Richie. And all you've been trying to do is difuse the situation.

Sugar needs a break, as she very clearly told you with a single glance from across the room. You gave her a nod and let her close herself off in her office to take a breather while you took over keeping the circus in a somewhat straight line.

Currently, you're on your hands and knees, scraping all the debris and dirt that's gotten on the new tiles while the rest of the repairs were still taking place. You warned Carmy the tiles would look far from new if they were the first thing he chose to replace but he still stubbornly put his foot down on the matter. And now he realizes he shot himself in that same foot, giving you an apologetic look from where he's standing.

"Quit staring, Berzatto. Do your job." You scoff, continuing your task with a newfound aggression that threatens to take out the whole tile not just the stain.

You've been blowing him off and avoiding him all day - quite the abnormality since arguing with him is to you what a cup of coffee is to other people. A day for you ain't right unless it starts with a disagreement with him. To be fair, it still is a fight, just a silent one. It all but guarantees you a win when he can't even defend himself, oblivious to how he could've pissed you off in the first place.

"Why are you being mean?" It irritates you, that tone of amusement to his voice. He's entertained, he's fucking enjoying himself.

"I'm always mean." You reply without even sparing him a glance. Your point is accentuated when you hit Richie's knee with your free hand just as he starts getting rowdy with Fak. He yelps, scowling down at you before lifting his arms up in surrender. "See?"

Looking up, you see Carmy is no longer in his previous spot. Instead, he's knelt down a couple feet away from you, a scraping tool of his own in hand. "Oh I see just fine, Chef."

Your skin flushes with heat as you try to curb your annoyance - how is the fucker winning an argument he doesn't even know he's entered. "Not well enough as it would seem." You tap the stain he'd scraped at once or twice before moving on to the next, "This doesn't look clean to me, Chef." The amount of bitterness and sass compacted into that single word is almost palpable in the air between you two.

"Alright, that's it." He says, exasperated, dropping the tool and getting to his feet. He dusts his knees before offering you a hand, "Cigarette, now."

You don't budge, still at the stain you've been struggling with for the past five minutes, "I'm busy. Ask Syd."

At that, Carmen has the audacity to straight up laugh. That's' what pushes you to reach your boiling point. You look up to tell him the fuck off just to have the tool swiftly stolen from your grasp, "Hey!"

"Cigarette, Chef. Now." His eyebrows are raised, giving you an earnest look that is meant to pull at the strings of your apperhension. He's not dumb, he can see you're particularly ticked off today. He can also take an accurate guess as to why. But he sure as hell isn't about to have that talk in front of Dumb and Dumber. Not that they'd pay you two much mind considering they've entered another screaming match but still - they have a tendency of paying attention when one would least want them to.

You feel like a child being scolded for throwing a tantrum. The only reason you oblige and stand up is to preserve your own pride. You make a point of not taking the offered hand, getting to your feet yourself and dusting off the pants of your overalls that have now been decorated with a lot of dust.

Contant is still established when Carmy grabs your hand, leading you to the back door and out in the alleyway. To be frank, here, it's not like you tried to wiggle free from his grasp but that's semantics at this point.

He plucks a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, taking two out. He traps one between his lips before extending the other to you.

You're not a regular smoker but you also don't turn it down when you're offered one. Especially not when you're stressed. With that taken into consideration, despite Carmen being the root of your stress at the moment, you still accept the offer and reach up for the cigarette.

Much to your annoyance, however, he snatches it away before you can take it.

Your hand balls up in a fist as you glare daggers and any other sharp objects at his smug expression. With a shake of his head and a fucking chuckle he offers it again, hoping you got the memo this time around.

The only reason you cave is just so you can put an end to this back-and-forth. So, despite your better judgement you bite the bullet and lean in, taking the cigarette between your lips.

It brings a smile to his face that you happily smack off had you not been at work at the moment. Instead, you focus your gaze on the flame he flicks on and inches closer to the cherry of your cigarette.

You take a long drag, inhaling the smoke with relief. It doesn't last long though since Carmen just has to open his mouth again.

"I'll ask you again - why are you being mean?" He lets out a cloud of smoke in the air, once more exhibiting exasperation you believe he has no right to feel.

Your jaw is set and so are your narrowed eyes as you follow suit - releasing the nicotine from your lungs, "And I'll tell you again - I'm always mean. I'll do you one better - why are you wasting time? We've got a lot of shit to do and we gotta do it in a very short fucking time and you're here taking smoke breaks! Sugar is losing her mind, Fak and Richie are gonna kill each other, Cicero is breathing down our necks, Syd is counting on you..."

"And you're not?" He cuts you off, the smugness now long gone from his features.

One hand rests on your hip while the other brings the cigarette back to your lips, "That doesn't matter."

You're almost satisfied to see the irritation you've been feeling all day now take hold of him, "Like hell it fucking doesn't."

Rolling your eyes, you flick your wrist to check your watch, "You should get going. Don't you have a menu consultation with Syd?" You mumble around the tobacco stick in your mouth, avoiding his gaze entirely now that you've lost all sense of subtlety to your anger.

If he were to ask you point blank if you are jealous of his close partnership with Syd, you'd laugh. And it is indeed laughable when you factor in the knoledge of how disinterested she is in terms of Carmy outside of a work setting. But still there's that nagging little piece of shit voice in your head...

Before you know it, Carmy has discarded his cigarette and has closed the space between the two of you. One set of fingers tilt up your chin while the other plucks the cigarette from your mouth. You're given no time to argue before his lips crash into yours.

You kiss him back instinctively, your brain momentarily short-circuting and conveniently wiping all the anger from your system. It returns only briefly when Carmy pulls awat from you. "It can wait."

You reestablish your sass a second later, grounding yourself into the annoyed act once more, "Nope, none of that." You shake your head, taking a step back, "I can handle you being corny but not inefficient and irresponsible." You steal back your cigarette before waving him off, "Go on, shoo."

His bright blue eyes twinkle with amusement, crinkles appearing at their corners as his face is lit up by a smile, "Alright, alright." He mutters in defeat. Still, he manages to sneak a kiss at the corner of your lips before reentering the restaurant-to-be. He stops in the dorrway, turning around to face you, "We're doing a movie night tonight. For real, this time."

A small chuckle escapes you as you attempt to feign nonchalance with a shrug, "You said the same fucking thing last time."

He points a finger at you, giving you his word, in a way, "You'll see." With that, he disappears inside, leaving you to finish your cigarette alone and with the dorkiest smile adorning your face.

It turns into a full blown laugh at the thought of how offended Syd would be if she knew of that little spark of jealousy within you. Truthfully, you owe her an apology.

[blueberri-blu]

Learning You...

Mikey ♡

[Bayverse] Slowly getting to know Mikey ♡

Leo ♡⁠˖ Donnie ♡⁠˖ Raph♡⁠˖

Meeting Him:

You met through April, her thinking you two would hit it off

(and knows Mikey wants more friends)

He immediately starts flirting with you

You just start giggling, realizing it's just his personality

You both have been joined at the hip since then

I'm sorry this is so short but I feel like with Mikey you wouldn't take long to become friends!

Befriending him

You and Mikey have competitions to see who can eat the most pizza

Or beat the other in a video game

But you just giggle it off as Mikey being mikey

Or skate better

AKA, Competitions all around

Very friendly, giggly, joking Competitions

You'll have long movie marathons, with Mikey and you making fun of the movies (we all know he can't sit still for long)

He is constantly flirting with you "Angel cakes, baby, sweetcheeks, Babycakes" you name it

But you just giggle it off as Mikey being Mikey

Eventually you both are trying out pick up lines on each other

This always ends in huge laughing fits that are so loud even Even can hear them

Honestly? Y'all are just like those elementary school best friends on the playground

"I'd die for you, you're my bff"

"omg so would I!! You're MY bff"

You'll start inviting Mikey over so you two can get some time off, show him around your apartment/house

If you have any, and I mean ANY pets, he is in love immediately

You two will watch TV shows for hours

If y'all end up watching Euphoria, he'll say "wow your highschool must've had drama novela style"

You'll have to explain to him that no, most high schoolers aren't doing hard drugs in the bathroom, and that yes, maybe a few hook up in the school bathrooms

All in all, you and Mikey hit it off right away and have a friendship even the mane six from my little pony would be jealous of

First Date

Your first date takes... awhile to be honest

With Mikey always flirting with you, you can't tell the difference between joking, and Mikey trying to ask you out

Mikey goes to April for advice

She tells him that, it's not really special when he talks like that to everyone

So, Mikey thinks of a plan

Influenced a little bit by Leo

He brings you a box of pizza to your place

And when you open it, it's a heart pizza, and in the box in sharpie is written "will you be my only love?" With Classic by MKTO playing in the background

You two stay the night at your place, playing video games, watching TV shows (you show him reality TV and he is hooked.)

At the end of the night, Mikey is confident and leans in for a kiss

If you kiss him back, after he'll be breakdancing a "victory dance" in your living room

If you pull away and say you don't kiss on the first date

Hell immediately start planning your second, third, fourth date and, if you let him, your wedding

Dating

Mikey is very touchy

He loves PDA and physical affection in general

If you do too, you can't keep your hands off of eachother

His brothers, don't appreciate it

If you don't like PDA or physical affection as much (in public) he will have a pillow to hold and cuddle with while he holds your hand

He doesn't care if he has to wait for you to be comfy for physical affection

In his words "my sexy Angel cakes, no need to rush, imma have you forever, right?"

Omg he is so sweet

His brothers are kind of happy he has you now tho, you entertain almost all of his ideas, and Mikey never feels stupid or dumb around you

You even encourage him to try some of his (non dangerous) ideas, just so you two can see what happens

I can totally see Mikey teaching you to ride on a skateboard

Thankfully his "powerful lou jitsu ninja skills" as he puts it, give him the reflexes to always catch you

If you don't get the hang of it, that's ok!

Mikey loves it when you and him share his skateboard,

His two favorite things, you and skateboarding (all that's missing is pizza)

You'll go to skateparks that are either closed down

Or just closed at night with no one there at night

You bring a calming presence to his chaos

Always encouraging him to try things, but within safe limits

Mikey brings out an adventurous side of you tho

He loves cuddling you, big spoon or little spoon, you on top, him on top, he doesn't care!

Dating Mikey means pizza, skating, adventure, movies and gaming

[henrioo]

°•*⁀➷ CROCOBABY: CROCODILE

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : "There is only one person that Crocodile would get down on his knees and fulfill every wish without hesitation, you, his little and only son"

꒰ WARNINGS ꒱ : Dad! Crocodile, PLATONIC STORY! NO ROMANCE! Dad and son's relationship, the reader doesn't have a specific age but he is a small child, Cross guild spoilers, child reader loves circus, just parental cuteness and stuff

꒰ WC ꒱ : 1,2k

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : This another stories of a time I only wanted to write about Crocodile, those last times I only want to write for Killer and him, but since I had more ideas for Crocodile I wrote more of him. My finished stories are ending so I'm back writing again, finishing the ask and seeing what I'm going to do next, maybe I will open my request soon but no promises, bye

You coughed, turned again in your bed and finally decided that you weren't going to be able to go back to sleep. You yawned rubbing your eyes with your small hands as you sat up in bed, you looked around the beautiful room you shared with your father. Although you were the one who spent most of your time in that room, so your father had made the necessary changes so that you wouldn't be bored in a place full of adult things.

You now had your own table to study at, your own corner with toys, even an armchair for your size. Furthermore, there were several books that could distract you, it might not be paradise for most children but you were never very demanding, you had toys and other activities and that was more than enough to entertain you for hours. Besides that, when your father was in a good mood he would let you watch the activity at the circus where you lived, it was always such a colorful and lively spectacle that you were mesmerized by everything. Your father hated the circus, but he had made sacrifices for you for your enjoyment, the truth was that more and more of you two went to watch the shows just because he wasn't able to resist the enchanted face of his little son.

Yawning, you moved through the various scarves, furs and other cloths that were always on your bed. Partly to protect you from the cold and partly because you moved so much that your father got tired of always covering you up again, so he just covered you with lots more cloths to make sure you were still covered even if you tossed and turned all night.

You had a little trouble getting out of bed, but you were soon on the floor, your fuzzy socks keeping you from feeling cold. It wasn't long before several of the circus crew saw a child walking around in green banana pajamas and dragging a huge crocodile stuffed animal with him, of course everyone knew who that child belonged to so it wasn't any problem. All the Cross Guild pirates were very kind to you and were always giving you sweets or doing little tricks, you really liked them but your father not so much, so he always made sure you had as little contact with them as possible. He always said that if you spent too much time with them you would become as dumb as Buggy, you didn't understand exactly what that meant.

Luckily the door to your father's office was just ajar, you pushed it with both hands and entered the room. It was similar to his father's old office but was a little smaller and more minimalist, probably because it wasn't very safe to have so much furniture on a ship that could face huge storms. So even now on land his father didn't have many decorations taken from the ship's office.

Crocodile didn't even look up from his papers when the door opened, it was probably Mihawk or Buggy since they had a meeting scheduled this evening, if it weren't them then it would be Mr.1 reporting to him. However, when no one said anything and the door remained open he was slightly confused, he looked up and found no one, his eyebrows were furrowed as he thought of a punishment if it was a prank by Buggy. But to his surprise, all that happened were two little hands pulling his coat trying to get his attention.

“Daddy, lap, daddy” you called for him softly, you were tired and it was obvious that you had just woken up.

"What are you doing here? It’s past your bedtime” he asked with a slightly more affectionate tone that he used specifically for you. Of course it wasn't even close to an extremely loving voice, but it was gentle and calm, an extreme compared to his harsh and aggressive voice towards others. “You should be in bed.” He blew the hair from your forehead as he let you lay against his chest, he had to hold you with his hook arm but you seemed extremely comfortable sleeping on him. It had been a little over an hour since he had put you to sleep and he definitely didn't expect to see you here.

“I can’t sleep” you yawned as you held your crocodile plush tighter and leaned on him, you were lying half sideways against his chest. This reminded the adult of when you were a little baby, he would always hold you regardless of what he needed to do, you were a very needy baby, always crying when he left you alone... maybe he missed how little and needy of his attention you were.

“Do you want me to put you to bed again?” Crocodile was ignoring that he had a meeting soon, the other two pirates could wait, after all his little sand prince would always be his priority.

“No… I'll be right back… I just want… to stay here for a little while” you yawned and finally closed your eyes and relaxed completely against your father. You were already big, but now curled up in his arms with a face so relaxed you almost looked like a baby again.

Sighing Crocodile couldn't hold back his smile, of course he was quick to hide it not wanting anyone but you to see this. He covered you with the huge coat he always wore and went back to his paperwork, he would take you to his bed soon, he would just enjoy this peaceful time with you a little more.

He only realized that a lot of time had passed when Mihawk, Buggy and Mr.1 were entering the office. The clown was shouting and complaining about something while Mihawk ignored him, Daz was holding some papers and approached his boss's desk more quickly. Obviously he was quick to notice the strange bulge hidden beneath his coat, before he could question it he saw his little hand clinging to his father's shirt, he almost smiled but that didn't suit him.

“Do you want me to take the young master to the room?” He asked as he placed the papers on the table and the mention of another person in the room made Mihawk and Buggy shift their attention to Crocodile.

“No, I'll take him after the meeting” he dismissed the support, even though Mr.1 had been his babysitter for the last few months, there were things that the pirate refused to let others do with his son. These were things that only he, the father, had the right to do.

"I see we will have a little guest today" Mihawk said with a gentler air as he sat down, it was strange but the swordsman didn't hate children. A few times he had even seen the two of you interacting while Dracule told you about some island he had been to.

“Oh, that explains his calmness” Buggy sighed a little relieved knowing that Crocodile would never be cruel or scary in front of him.

“Shut up and let’s get this over with, I have other matters to deal with” the hooked man said harshly. Everyone agreed but deep down it wasn't difficult to realize that your father had a huge soft spot for you... And well, you weren't complaining about that.

[fatuismooches]

Dottore and a sensitive s/o... agh.. knowing dottore (specifically omega) and how he can be sarcastic and mean at times. Tearing up when he says something slightly rude or in a certain manner to them. Or when he raises his voice just so slightly. This is out of character for dottore but just imagine him doing this unconsciously, or out of frustration when a dose of said cure has failed.

You had long become accustomed to hearing Dottore's remarks in the Akademiya. It had taken some getting used to, seeing how blunt he could be, but after some time you were able to see it as more entertaining rather than truly mean. You still felt the same even after you woke up after so long. In fact, perhaps you missed it after being away for a few centuries. However, after a while, it seemed that your once confident nature began to dwindle.

You're blessed with a lot of things, but you're also cursed with other things. It feels like you have a world of problems on you sometimes. You don't want to deal with things that hurt you even more, self-esteem already suffering. Now that he was older, he had no need for brash comments. Dottore could carefully weave his words to hit you where it hurts, having no need to be direct. Which, can arguably hurt more than just him being straight up.

You know that it's dumb for you to have such a reaction to it. But subtle remarks or rudeness don't help your already shaky state, even if you know deep down he doesn't genuinely mean it. All rationality seems to leave you as soon as you hear that tone. All the calmness you've been keeping up as a front. You don't want to be sensitive, to start a fuss over something this small, but you can't help it. You already know you're a burden, but you don't want to hear it.

Dottore notices the slight shift in your expression the first few times, but he doesn't dwell on it too much - you can handle it, he assumes, you have before, what has changed? And if you have a problem, surely you know you can just say it. He trusts you to speak your mind. It's not until he actually sees you cry that he realizes that perhaps his words have far more of an impact than he initially intended.

He doesn't want you to think you're an inconvenience to him, because you aren't, and never will be. And so he is at a loss as to what to do - apologize? He could, but he doesn't think it would mean much, considering the state you've probably been in for a while. Say he'll never do it again? A lie wouldn't do you any good either. He thinks he understands your brain but there are times he is proven utterly wrong. And so he resorts to what he seems to always end up doing - silently holding you until you're exhausted.

He knows he's not a gentle or tender lover. He's not the sweet one you've always desired (despite your firm statements that you would choose him over anyone else). But for you, he'll try his best to show you his love, because you deserve that, at the very least, right?

[yaut-jaknowit]

Could you write Male yautja x male reader. I would like for the reader to be very quiet, always has a look of anger on his face etc. a bit aggressive because he grew up alone in a remote place and the Yautja finds him and decides to humor himself and capture the human, but he end up falling for the human because he doesn't back away from a fight. And now the Yautja has to show the human that he actually cares, having some trouble because different romantic gestures, and also kinda begging for forgiveness but very subtly

Ways to Fall

Pairing: Ahtaal (Male Yautja) x AMAB!Reader

Word Count: 4512

Summary: Everyday is the same. There's no change. In a small town, there's nothing new. If something does magically happen, within the same hour, everyone knows about it. During a normal day of nothing happening… you are snatched out of thin air. When met face to face with your captor, he doesn't kill you. Count your lucky stars.

Author Note: Thinking about this is such a funny idea. He kidnaps a human for entertainment only for it backfire horribly. He falls in love with said human and now he can't get rid of it.

Masterlist

Ao3

With towns in the middle of nowhere, there’s nothing much to see. It’s always the same old, same old stuff you see every single day. Yet, the little money in your bank account doesn’t allow you to strive away from this place you’ve grown up in. You’ve grown to resent your town.

Everyone knows everyone. There’s nothing you can get away with. Mrs. Whittney saw you sneaking out one night and boom, grounded for three months. It taught you how to become incredibly sneaky and how to plan your late night adventures.

Even into your adult age, you had nothing to get you out of here. Your folks and others tell you to cheer up, smile some more, and be happy. How in the hell can you be happy if you’re stuck here? You scowl at everyone who gets within a twenty-foot range of you. Because, how dare they think they can get close to you? Nothing they can do to make you happy unless its to help you escape here.

On your break, you walked out to your car to get away from your coworkers. They were truly pissing you off today. Nothing was going right. Is it so hard just work a simple shift this early in the ass crack of dawn? Clearly, these people can’t even tell left from right, up from down if there was a sign right in front of them.

Before you could reach your beater car, an arm wrapped around your waist and yanked you back. A huge palm easily covered the lower half of your mouth, preventing you screaming out. You jerked an elbow back only to let out a muffle yelp when it met metal. A hiss sounded from behind the palm from the pain growing. Yet, the adrenaline dumbing into your system had you kicking and throwing elbows despite the discomfort.

Whoever was holding you barely even flinched and took each hit with stride. They began to haul your squirming form away from your car and the building. All you could do despite struggling was watch as your freedom got pulled out from underneath your feet. The last attempt to get this person off of you was to chomp down on their hand as strong as possible. The hand didn’t even flinch as your teeth dug harshly into their flesh. Yet, they didn’t even pierce the thick skin that covered their hands. You could feel a strange, rough texture on your tongue. Nothing natural.

But, you didn’t let go. The last thing you were going to do was give up. You were going to fight until your last breath. The person kept moving with long, powerful strides.

Mechanical hissing hit your ears. It reminded you of a noise you would hear from Star Wars. Your brows furrowed together while attempting to piece together the puzzle with little information.

In the empty parking lot that sat adject to your works lot, you could spot the strange outline of something. It was hidden, camouflaged but the area within this weird shape was wobbled. Then, you noticed a ramp had touched down on the asphalt and led into the hidden object. You screamed louder, bucked harder, kicked wildly.

All attempts came up empty handed. You were carried up this ramp into a space you didn’t know what to call. It was open with a few closed doors to others parts of this… place. A place you were trapped in.

Whatever had you continued to carry you over to a door that opened for them. Once the entrance was sealed shut and effectively trapping you in here. The person finally dropped you down onto your feet. You were unsteady for a moment before spinning around and backing away. As the space was created, you come to notice nothing else stood in the room. Like you had been kidnapped by a ghost.

Your guard didn’t fall. Not when you felt the heavy, sharp gaze of someone watching you, observing from the shadows from where they hide in.

Once looking in front of you for a moment longer, you come notice a shape. Similar to wherever you’ve been dragged to, this thing was camouflage, hiding from you. “Come out and face me, coward!” you shouted with your fists up, name calling the thing. Its head tilted. Lightly tinking of metal hitting metal sounded but that was all you got in reaction.

“Are you too scared to reveal yourself? Afraid you’re going to get your ass whooped by me?” Call it a dumbass move, but you kept talking shit. You didn’t know what you were facing. Nothing you knew on earth could camouflage, not the way this thing in front of you. You didn’t want to call it but this couldn’t be something from earth.

Alien or not, they just kidnapped you. You weren’t going to let that blow over so easily. You kept your fists up in defense and ready to be on the offense.

A scoff sounded from your throat when it didn’t move from its spot. “I can fucking see you. Just show yourself so I can beat your ass and get back to work,” you snarked, irritated that nothing seemed to be getting it to listen. Then, a realizing thought struck you. Maybe it didn’t understand English or any human tongue. Well, that makes this a whole lot better.

“I’m guessing you don’t even understand me.” You rolled your eyes and finally crossed your arms. “So if I ask what you want with me, you’re not going to know what I just said.”

The hidden creature began to make a strange ‘hrr’ like noise repeatedly… Like it was laughing! You bristled and began to march towards the moving blob. One of yours fingers pointed at it. “Are you fucking laughing at me, punk?! You think you can just kidnap me and then laugh about it and get away with it?! Seriously? Come on,” you growled and thumped a fist on your chest. “Come on then. Fight me, bitch.”

Maybe you were digging yourself a grave with each insult thrown at the laughing creature. Who knows. But what you do know, you weren’t going to allow it to continue without doing something about it.

The laughing came to a stop. The silence of the air caused you to tense up. Before your very eyes, the blob began to take form. Its bubble like transparency started to wane into existence. A humanoid form appeared before you yet its head shape wasn’t something you’ve ever seen before.

A mask of metal covered its face, similar to a helmet.  Dark, deep set eyes sockets blankly stared directly at you. Despite the drop of terror that fell down your spine, you stayed defensive with an angry face. Your teeth are bared, arms still crossed over your chest. Its lumbering size didn’t deter you from staring death in the face.

This beast was massive, easily towering over your tense form. Rippling muscles bulged underneath metal armor adorning its red, scaly hide. A fishnet of sorts began at its neck and ran down its torso, out to its limbs, and stopping there at the joints. The thin wire allowed for you to have ample opportunity to peek at its dark red skin, marred with too many scars to count in the little time offered to you.

“It that all y-ack!” you were cut short when a muscular hand secured around your throat and picked you up. Your nails instantly reach to claw at what flesh you could tear at. Their dullness slid over the thicker flesh of the humanoid.

In the face of death, you continue to feel that boiling rage deep inside of you, clawing to be let loose. Anything to show this thing a piece of your mind for kidnapping you. In that moment, you threw any logical thinking to the wind.

One of your feet sprung out and hit your target head on. Bone covered by thin tendons met the bottom of your shoe… but the desired affect failed to occur. The satisfaction of hurting it in a common weak spot melted away when it stayed standing tall. Internal, you cursed yourself out. Whatever it had planned for you it would have no issues of performing them. Not when it took a painful kick to the knee and didn’t even cringe at it.

That enraged you even more.

Laughter bubbled in the back of Ahtaal’s throat He saw the way you tried an old, known trick to injure him. It felt like a youngling had just kicked him! This was just humorous in itself. His mandibles chittered behind his mask. The way you refused to give up, to back down, to submit yourself to someone stronger even every way of the word. He relished in the way you bite back at him, fought him in ever step he made. It made his blood sing with the need to hunt.

All Ahtaal wanted to do was humor himself. A nice way to entertain himself before he prepared for a hunt. Why no capture the clearly unhappy human?! It’s clearly exciting his day by the minute.

The chuckling he created angered the male in his grasp. Even with its throat within his mighty hand, the little thing continued to kick and claw for its freedom. A prey desperate to live. Ahtaal could almost feel pity.

Almost.

Ahtaal set it back down on the ground once he noticed its movement were beginning to slow. He knew it was just a temporary toy for him to mess with. That didn’t mean he wanted to kill it straight off the get go. No, like anything he hunts, he wanted to take his time. Stalk his prey before he pounces. Even if it takes him weeks to find the perfect moment to make the finishing blow.

The ooman back peddled so quickly it nearly tripped over its own two feet. With luck, it stayed upright. Its back met the far side of his trophy room. The only place he thought was best to keep his new pet safe for the time being. His ship small but useful until a moment like this pops up.

From his spot, Ahtaal tilted his head and felt his tresses slid off of his shoulder and free hung. The trinkets he’s decorated the thin strands tapped against one another. A tinking noise echoing in the air. He watched at the ooman kept its back attached to the wall yet a glare set at Ahtaal. As if all this was his fault!

Okay… maybe it was. Who wouldn’t steal an ooman out in the open, needing a form of entertainment before his next hunt. And this male was just stomping along in an empty lot, by itself. Like it was asking to be kidnapped by him. So, Ahtaal wouldn’t just pass up an amazing opportunity thrown at his feet.

He stalked forward, each step silent on the metal floors of his spacecraft. Behind his biomask, he rumbled deeply, a taunting call. He relished the way the ooman’s legs trembled under their own weight. But the steely glare had yet to fall from its alien feature. Another rumble sounded from him while consuming the space between each of them.

Your fists tightened, nails biting into your palms as waited for the perfect moment to strike. Fear may have entered your blood stream but you refused to let it control your actions.

Life has sucked in so many ways. Never having control over anything in your life. This here, was the tipping point of it all. If this beast means to end your life in this very spot, he’s going to learn you won’t go down easily. Until the beat of your heart stops and the air leaves your lungs, it will taste the rage of your childhood.

Met with bloodied fists.

It crowded you into the wall, palms flat against the sturdy metal against your back. Trapped with nowhere to run. As much as you looked like an animal backed into a corner, you were ready to swing at the first sign.

One of its hands peeled off of the metal and grasped the front of its metal, soulless mask. With precise movements, it was pulled free. You choked on the air in your throat and nearly started to keel over and die.

Your mind instantly screamed alien. This was in fact an alien without it or anyone else trying to confirm or deny that fact. You were frozen to the spot and stared directly into dark eyes with a hunters prowess weaved into them. This thing was going to kill you, you knew it by just the single emotion within its gaze.

In an instant, you rocketed your fist and met the underside of its chin. Pain exploded in your fingers at the improper punch and strange angle they struck at.

The humanoid’s head is whipped back at the force of your punch yet it stays in your space. It slowly lowered its face back down towards you with an evil glint in its eyes.

Biting claws dug into your neck, your cheek shoved harshly against the warm steel wall. The fingers secured around a vital airway prevented you from gasp due to their tight grasp. The whites of your eyes blaring evident as you stared at the creature. It lowered down with its mouth next to your ear.

Fangs caressed the shell of your ear in a teasing manner. A whole-body tremble wracks through you. It rumbled once more. The air vibrating with the sound. “You quite are a feisty one, ain’t cha?” A dark voice filtered into your ears. Your mouth dropped for gasp but found yourself unable to suck any air in. “I sure love when they fight me. Makes my blood sing with the hunt.”

There wasn’t even an opportunity to swallow down the lump building between the fingers squeezing you to death. Blood was restricted from reaching your brain. For a moment, you believed the lack of blood and oxygen was making you loopy. That the alien before your very eyes didn’t just speak to you.

Then, the heat of its body trapping you to the wall was ripped away. Your knees bruised on the unforgiving floor underneath. Pain radiated from the newly strained area. Your lungs choked down all the air possible before coughing violently when spit accidently slipped through. For a long time, you gulped down oxygen and tried not to choke.

Once the fit was over, you tilted your head up to look up at the beast. Its metal mask had been attached to its belt, off to the side. This thing had only showed off a hint of its strength, letting you know what it could do to you.

That only increased your anger at not only it but the situation. One thing after another. That’s all it’s been. Nothing new. Nothing has changed.

You wiped the back of your hand against the drool dribbling from your blue lips. “Is that all you got?” you snarked off to death’s face.

The same ‘hrn’ing noise sounded from the beast in a laughing manner. The smirk on your face was wiped off. You snapped to your feet with a fist heading once more to its alien face. Unprotected and vulnerable all over again.

This time, it rose a fist and caught your offending limb. Large, lethal digits curled over your entire hand and bent it slightly backwards. A show of dominance that forced you back down on your knees before it. Only then did it release you and let you stay on the ground. With an amused huff, it spun on its heels and strolled out of the room it left you in.

Despite its flare of dominance over you, it didn’t harm you per se. You stared down at your hand then back to the closed door it had walked through. All you wanted to do was bash in its skull with its own arm.

Without the overbearing kidnapper at your throat, you sat against the wall. Finally, you observed the room it had locked you in. Only for fear to freeze every cell in your body.

Skulls of animals lined the very walls you were trapped in. Each one looking deadlier than the last. Human skulls were within the mix. A trophy room. You gasped and covered your mouth with a sweaty palm. This room will become your resting place.

On the other side of the door, Ahtaal relaxed against the door. Never in all of his years has this happened to him. Not from a creature much smaller than him. One that had to know the dangers of facing off something bigger than it. Someone who was able to pop their head off of their shoulders with little strength used. He purred lightly and took in the ooman’s scent.

Now, he didn’t want to release the creature, let alone kill it. He wanted to keep it. There was untapped, untrained talent buried inside of it. Ahtaal wanted to unleash it, reveal this revelation to the universe. He wanted hunt with this ooman.

When the next rotation started, Ahtaal made his way to the trophy room. A waterskin and bowl of ooman safe foods held in his palm. Over the course of the night where his thoughts rolled around for hours, he came to a conclusion: he wasn’t going to kill you. The potential in you would go to waste. He wasn’t going to let that happen if he could help it.

Above the door, the sensors read his presences and promptly opened. At first, he doesn’t spot you and nearly becomes concern. Only to hear the tall tale sign of sprinting feet.

Off to his right, you are bolting towards him with ratchet too big for your hands. Amusement fills him. He simply reaches up and snags the weapon before it could strike him. You grunt and tried to rip it from his grasp but Ahtaal’s strength easily outweighs your own. The red alien laughs his humor in your face and plucks the impromptu weapons from your hands. A reminder he should’ve checked if his cabinets and drawers were locked before locking you in here.

Yet, the Yautja was proud at the fact you had thought of ways of using your surroundings to cause harm. He purred lightly to himself before pushing further into the room.

You stumbled backwards at the advancing alien, raging at the fact your attack failed. It just simply stood the ratchet straight from your hands. Like stealing candy from a baby.

In its hands, you took note of the items it held. A strange bag filled with liquid and a tray… with food. Your stomach took the moment to rumble a hungry cry. Heat blanketed your cheeks, knowing it had been little less than a day since you last ate. Plus, the need for a bathroom was growing stronger. But, your dignity cried at that fact.

The only way out shut behind its lumbering form, head tilted to the side as it observed you. You hastily pulled your glare into place with a burning rage. The beast chittered and offered you the items. Instantly, put up your fists in defense and eyed the beast closely. Any movements towards you would end with a fist heading towards its elongated skull.

It shook the items like that would entice you to reach across a line of danger. You up turned your nose despite the growling hungry in the pit of your belly. Whatever its plan was, you wouldn’t follow. Not when the empty eyes of hunted skulls watch the scene unfold before them.

A huff sounded from the alien before it shrugged and set the items down. It spun on its heel to walk out. You gnawed on your bottom lip for a second before lunging out. “Wait!” Instantly, the beast caught your limb in the blink of an eye. The grasp wasn’t tight but firm. It held your hand high above your head, keeping you on brink of your toes.

“I wasn’t attacking! Dumbass… I just need to use the restroom,” you mumbled into the quiet, tense air. It was a horrible feeling to have to request such a thing yet with no bathroom in sight, you had to suck it up. Anything to stop yourself from pissing your pants.

Hopefully, the creature understood what you were asking. Did they even have a bathroom? Or anything similar? If not, you were plainly screwed down to the bone. For a moment, you prayed to any god that could hear you.

“Hum, there are better ways rather than that,” it chittered to you in a teasing tone before releasing its hold on you. When you thought you were in the clear eating and drinking whatever it brought, the creature jerked its head down. “You must eat and drink beforehand. Then, I shall take you.”

You bristled and pointed a finger at him. “I sweat to god if you don’t take me to a fucking toilet right now, I will piss on the skulls.” Your hands shot out at your sides like a grand display. “Everywhere!” That was a threat you weren’t kidding about. You could care less about whipping it out and peeing on everything. If it worked to get you to the toilet quicker, who were you to complain.

One of its strange mandibles quirked up in an alien smirk if you were reading it correctly. A purr-like sound vibrated from its throat. “Feisty,” it commented then jerked its head to the door behind it. Your gaze hardened, body ready to fulfill your threat at a moments notice.

“Alright, hold back on the reins. I’ll take you.” It stepped to the side and motioned with an arm for you to take lead. The entire time you stomped up to the door, you glared at the creature. Once the metal slid open and revealed part of its home you hadn’t gotten to see before, it motioned over to a door on the other side. This space wasn’t wildly open but was larger than your average hallway, yet empty.

A huff was sent towards the beast before you marched over to the closed door. It refused to acknowledge your presence. Right as you were about to spin about and rage at the creature, you felt its body heat caress against your backside. Your shoulders jerked up.

The door opened and revealed something you were expecting: a bedroom? With a massive bed in the middle of the expansive space. More skulls adorn the walls, filling the room with death. You shuttered yet scuttled into the room in search of the bathroom.

Attached to the room was an en suite bathroom. You immediately raced over. Relief at your fingertips.

What ensued was something you wished never to repeat to another living being. You shuttered while returning to the giving space. The food it had offered to you was still on the ground, lightly steam with heat. You snatched it off of the ground and went to the far side wall. Your butt meets the warm metal of the floor.

It’s lumbering form followed you into here yet stayed a respectful distance away. With one eye on the beast, you worked on opening the bag and obtaining whatever fluid was stored inside. At this point, you could care less what it was. If it was fluids, that’s all that mattered to you.

As you untied the knots, you pulled your attention up to it. “So… what’s your name?” you questioned and broke the semi-peaceful air. The alien sat down against the wall in the same manner as you. An arm thrown on top of its bent knee. “I should at least know that since you decided to kidnap me.”

Dark eyes watched you peacefully. “Ahtaal,” he easily revealed to you. Your eyes narrowed for a moment before you felt the knots give way. The bag was opened. You were swift to gulp down lungsful then swiped the back of your against the droplets that had escaped.

“Ahtaal,” you tested his name on your tongue. “And what’s the reason behind kidnapping me? Since, clearly, its not to kill or else you would’ve ready done that.” During the time he was gone, you had placed the pieces together. If he wanted you dead, you would’ve been so with your skull joining the other humans on the wall.

The red alien filled his lungs with air, chest expanding with the movement. The gears in his large head seemed to move with each thought. “You are… unique. You have talent I wish to tap into. Unusual for ooman to possess such a skill. It would be a waste to kill you,” he answered smoothly. You scoffed at his words and rolled your eyes. Talent? Skill? What was this buffoon going on about?

“And are you sure you nabbed the right person? I’m not anything special. I work in fast food and live paycheck to paycheck,” you denied his claim. A sharpness entered his consuming gaze. He jumped to his feet and marched over you. Despite knowing this alien could crush your skull between his fingers, you steeled your glare and even moved towards it.

He stopped and towered straight over you, straddling your extended legs. You refused to back down in the face of danger. The deadly tip of his claw pointed at you. “That. That right there is what I’m talking about. You have to know that I could kill you with little effort and yet here you are, facing me down. Others may call it stupidity, but I call it bravery.”

Your glare faltered for a second. If you didn’t know better, the alien was complimenting you. Yet, you reeled your walls back up. “What happens if I don’t want to be here? Are you going to let me go?” Was there an escape from this?

If you hadn’t been watching Ahtaal so closely, you would’ve missed the way his shoulders drooped just a centimeter. He shook his head. “I cannot. My honor code doesn’t allow those who have seen me to live. I’m not willing to kill such potential.”

“So, we are at a standstill.” The water bag was set down on your lap. Your arms crossed firmly over your chest.

“So it seems,” Ahtaal agreed simply then took a couple of steps away from you. “For now, I will gather you some supplies before we head off. Is there anything you would like, unable to depart with?” The way he offers it would nearly be sweet if the severity of the situation didn’t way heavy on your shoulders.

His words finally hit you. “Depart? Where are you taking me? Where are we going?” you snapped and brushed over his second question.

A grin fell over his features. “Space.” Then, he spun on his heel and left you to the loneliness of the skull filled room. Your jaw dropped, terror entering your veins.

“Space?!”

[delopsia]

What about lewis's characters as cam boys? 🍑

Now, this is a real find 👀alright, it'll be good for the economy Contains: Rhett Abbott, Bob Floyd, Miles Miller, Jordan Weaver, Harrison Knott and Major Major

Rhett is the biggest slut on the site. He's best known for riding his favorite toys in an empty pasture or hurriedly fisting his cock in the front seat of his truck, but he's not above taking requests or playing with sponsored toys in his bedroom. He's the most active out of the bunch, taking advantage of his high sex drive to entertain everybody.

Aaaalways has that damn cowboy hat on; it's very rare to see him without it, and those chaps?? Fan favorite. He's been known to play up the whole cowboy thing, intentionally using Western slang, and he's practically trademarked the concept of riding toys/pretending his fleshlight is someone riding him.

Sometimes, if he's feeling horny and adventurous, he'll even ask his partner to come in and dominate him. Those are always a hell of an experience. You're the one that controls what they see of you, Rhett leaves those reins in your hands in your hands alone. If you want to hide yourself, then that's okay with him, but if you want your face right next to his, then have at it! He's thrilled to let everyone know what's his and who he belongs to.

Bob only films while wearing a little black mask. Everyone thought he was being quirky during the pandemic, but he simply can't film without it. His viewers can always tell when he's enjoying himself because those wireframes perched on his nose start getting all foggy. Stutters when he reads the live chat and visibly becomes red when someone suggests something even remotely dirty.

He's very, very vanilla, prefers to entertain folks who want to see him play with his cock, but every once in a blue moon, he'll treat everyone to the sight of him fucking himself on a thick toy. Always uses the fleshy/realistic ones, determined to make it look as real as he can get it. He plays into viewer requests very easily, if he sees someone ask him to reach down and play with his balls, then hey, that's what he's doing!

He'll let his partner join in if they want to, but it 1) takes him forever to tell you about this particular career choice (he's mortified about putting it into words) and 2) his viewers aren't going to see very much of you. Like he doesn't want them to see anything more than your hand on his cock; he's possessive like that.

Miles? The sweetest thing to ever grace a camera. Thigh-high stockings, plaid skirts, pastel pink and baby blue toys. He loves feeling comfy and cozy when he's intimate; everything has to be perfect and fit his chosen aesthetic! Such high production value for a man who's too shy to look into a camera. Please don't ask him to read the chat; he'll burn into oblivion.

Probably one of the most vocal out of the bunch. He doesn't say a whole lot, but he'll lay there in his bed, whimpering and mewling like it's the last thing he'll ever do. Is also very well known for how shaky he can get when he's close; it's such an obvious tell that his audience can guess when he'll cum.

He starts out solo, but it very quickly becomes something that Miles likes doing with his partner. He's just a little guy; please fuck his poor little ass until he's begging you to stop, spank him, ride him to the point of tears streaming down his pretty face, spit on him, pull his hair, and make him say something dirty to the viewers.

Jordan puts on a show. Like he's the only one of the boys who is gonna twirl himself around on a pole and put on a little performance before the fun starts. Has been known for the occasional workout tease live stream and fucking a toy in the bathroom after. He's got the widest variety of toys, fantasy dildos, fucking machines, brightly colored cock sleeves. Jordan is the guy to try anything and everything at least once.

He intentionally plays himself off as a dumb, air-headed twenty-something, and that makes it very easy to lure in donations. Some folks think they're paying enough to pressure or trick him into doing something they want, but they don't realize they're playing right into his hand.

Jordan is also the most on and off about letting you come on camera with him. Some days he wants to hide you from their greedy eyes, some he doesn't care, but he also loves having the spotlight on himself. It's a conflicting thing, but if you really want to join, then all you've got to do is remind him of the spike in donations that come in when he's got someone else to play with.

Harrison is...truly something. He knows that his viewers are there to oggle at his body, and he plays into that a lot. Tight-fitting clothes, filming right after a workout when he knows his muscles are still hot and swollen. He's even got an Amazon wishlist full of stuff that his viewers send him to wear.

Like Bob, he's got a preference to focus on his cock and occasionally his nipples, but sometimes he'll get into a mood where he'll finger himself while he jerks his cock in that big fist of his. Whatever he's doing, he's always in lighting and angles that compliment his build, biting his lip and looking into the camera like he's beckoning the viewer to come and do whatever they please to him.

If you're on camera with him, then he isn't even paying attention to the viewers. He. Does. Not. Care. What. They. Want, he cares about what you're doing, and that's it. Probably the most intimate out of all of them, fucking you exactly how he would in private or even letting you take control and split him open on that pink dildo that's been sitting in the corner of all his videos...did you know that he kicks his left leg when he's getting fucked?

Major Major is the biggest tease known to man. Strips for certain donation goals, says he'll use a certain toy when they hit a marker, but then turns around and entirely forgets once he gets there. He's a frustrating little guy, but he's got a charm to him that keeps reeling new folks in.

When he does follow through with it, it's a sight to behold, though. He babbles so much, regardless of what he's doing; his viewers got him to climb in his car's backseat and fuck his ass on a toy once, and it was on the front page for weeks. Mindlessly yammering about how worried he was that someone would see him, how this was a bad idea, but oh, oh, that feels good.

You know what it is he's doing, but if you want to join, then you'll have to ask because he practically forgets about it the moment the livestream ends. His content doesn't really change; he's still just as babbly, except this time, he has someone who will talk back to him and give him a bigger reason to ramble.

[animeyanderelover]

Request: Can I get a yandere ciel and yandere sakamaki with male reader? It's not homophobic but like male reader is just... Confused on how they can fall for a guy. Specifically him please and thank you!

So, I already did something very similar to this before with Ciel and the Sakamaki brothers so I will only add the characters in here that I haven’t done in this previous request.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, clinginess, manipulation, harrassment, violence, isolation, abduction, death, male s/o

But you're a guy!

Ayato Sakamaki

🥇​Ayato is already plenty confused himself about the fact that he fell for another guy yet obviously he won't allow you to express the same feelings that he is currently experiencing. In fact he actually gets rather pissed whenever you express any confusion about how you can fall for another man as this isn't the gender you find yourself attracted to. Obviously a part of him is sane enough to realise that he can't just expect you to flip your entire sexuality overnight yet another part of him just hates seeing you being all bewildered as you look at him. Would you stop looking at him like this?! It is interesting to see the mixture of anger, confusion and disbelief playing out in Ayato as he struggles for a while to comprehend what he is even supposed to do with you, although he is the one who abducted you in the first place. Sometimes he starts ranting about how he is better than some dumb, emotional girl anyways before he realises what he is doing and snaps at you to stop laughing even if you don't even do that, his head threatening to start smoking with the embarrassment he is feeling in that moment. He's still going to some lengths to establish himself as the dominant part in this relationship.

Kanato Sakamaki

🧸​Whilst a man isn't his usual target group, Kanato accepts the situation quickly as he doesn't question his attachment too much. That implies by no means that you can even think about relaxing though because he is screwed over in his head. Kanato is extremely jealous, all the more whenever he picks up the signals that you do not consider him as someone you could ever love. Whenever you do as much as looking in the direction of some other girl, he murders her and in the worst case he is even gifting you strands of her hair, her eyes or even shows you the doll he turned her into before he burns it down in front of you so that he can erase her image permanently from your mind. There are some things that don't change, regardless of what gender his darling is though. He will still insist on matching plushies, the tea parties and the outfits to doll you up, though since you are a man he will find you other pretty clothes that aren't dresses. His proneness to violence stays prominent though, especially if you dare to question how you could feel attracted to another man. The pain is the least scary part though as you instead dread it much more when he asks you for names of women who must have seduced you.

Laito Sakamaki

🎹​Normally he has always gone after women and his attraction for a guy is fairly new to him yet he takes it as an exciting and new challenge. There is a new kind of thrill as he goes after you and he doesn't shy away from being a pervert to you as he has been to the women in his life as he enjoys exploring the body of a man for the first time in his life. He's aware of your attractio solely lying in the opposite gender yet he doesn't care about that piece of information as he just goes after what he wants. If you have a silly crush on a girl, he will simply bully her until she avoids you. He hangs around you all the time, prepared to spew hurtful and insulting words to every girl you show an interest in. Lashing out at him is like giving him what he wants as he can't help but be entertained by almost all emotions you display. This openly flirtatious and seducing behavior continues even after the abduction, though now you really have no way avoiding him anymore. You are instead stuck with Laito all of the time as he clings to you, the clinginess only fueled by his intrigue that he fell in love with a man. Now both of you have a lot of time to get to know each better though~

[kevin-ibw]

PLEASE TELL ME MORE ABOUT YOYR HAZBIN AU

So Vox is an angel, does that change anything about him on an emotional level ? (Like when he sees religious imagery, does it make him feel anything ‘inexplicably’?) Does his one sided rivalry with Alastor stay the same ? What’s the relationship like between the three Vs? Whatre his thoughts on Velvette’s church?

Angel’s in charge of the family mafia huh? So he must be pretty powerful… Does Val still have power over him or are they on more equal footing ?

So Vox is an angel, does that change anything about him on an emotional level ? (Like when he sees religious imagery, does it make him feel anything ‘inexplicably’?)

- Any mentions of religious imagery, especially christianity, make him a bit.. twitchy, but never the less, it doesn't bother him as much.

Vox can often come off as one; "oblivious" to the fact that he's an angel It essentially became a rule in hell to not mention that fact around him. Two; "passive," but everyone associated with him knows it's a bunch of horseshit and loves to mess with people once they realize it.

Does his one sided rivalry with Alastor stay the same?

- There's still a rivalry, albiet for different reasons.

Alastor: "People always say that I strike fear in everyone's soul, *cue laugh track* Hahaha! If only I knew what it felt like, correction if only I knew what anything felt like anymore! *cue laugh track*"

One of Hell's punishments that was inflicted on Al was the inability to feel anything because he was enjoying his time a serial killer a little too much. Because of this, he becomes severely bored years to come since what's the point in causing a lot of chaos when you can't feel anything from it? Now, don't get me wrong, he's still a heavily feared overlord, but now he's just so bored with a lot of things in Hell.

But then Vox came along. He essentially puts dread in everyone's stomachs because it's very likely he's a one-way ticket to getting yourself permanently killed without a cleanse happening. Alastor actually gets intrigued by him and thus starts their rivalry, it focus less on. "Radio vs TV" and more on, "He's very dangerous and could end me for good, he's the only one the peaked my interest and perhaps maybe give me the ability to feel fear."

Sure, there are exorcists, but all of them evenually leave anyway, too squirmy and skitterish for Alastor's taste.

But Vox just strides in everywhere like he owns the place, without even a little smidge of fright and treats everything like a game.

What’s the relationship like between the three Vs? Whatre his thoughts on Velvette’s church?

- Vox & Valentino: Both have been married for fifty years and it's still counting, as seen in the show it's implied that Vox has to calm down Val a lot of the time when he has a temper, this AU switches that. SHAU!Val isn't dumb enough to let Vox's temper get the better of him, because how knows what would happen if there's a pissed off angelic overlord. (Thank the lord it doesn't happen often.)

OG!Vox butters up OG!Val

SHAU!Val does it instead

OG!Val intentionally withheld information about Alastor coming back so he could push OG!Vox's buttons

SHAU!Val doesn't even entertain the idea

Yeah, Val can be a bit trigger happy, but he's not outright suicidal.

Valentino & Velvette: Both of them hold each other in high regard but aren't as close with one other since Val doesn't focus much on social media. Valentino is a very direct guy. The only Voxtagram posts you're getting from him are photos of sinners with holy bullets in their skulls as a warning to whoever crosses him. Velvette and her little cult of followers take a step further to spread the message, too. Essentially, she's on top when it comes to information around social media.

Velvette & Vox: Both being tech savvy, they get along quite well. While Vox controls all of the internet and anything tech in hell, he's more focused on the business side of things and selling products, when a new product sells, Velvette makes it so the message spreads further.

Angel’s in charge of the family mafia huh? So he must be pretty powerful… Does Val still have power over him or are they on more equal footing ?

Since the church is used a ploy to lure more sinners into their power, Vox finds a lot of assumentment in it and often times indulges in entering the church to heighten her claims and further reel sinners in.

If anyone wants more info, please send an ask! :)

- Sadly, Angel is still under a contract with Val, fortunately though they more-or-less have respect for each other. Angel finds it hilariously ironic that he's right-hand man to a moth when he's the spider here.

[blacklegsanjiii]

wait ohmygod imagine lusan in warlord!sanji au. luffy goes through so many shovel talks that stop midattempt bc all the warlords are very protective over their kid but they can tell without minutes of meeting luffy that hes the best there can be. luffy has no idea theres a shovel talk hes just happy to talk to ppl who have sanjis baby pictures and embarrassing stories. tho i guess this kinda scenario works with other ships too

Two different anons with the same energy I love it.

God that'd be hilarious. I feel like Jinbei wouldn't even try honestly after seeing WCI. And he is talking to the others. They all coparent someone who is so reckless and willing to die. It's like they kidnap the seraphim and go to Karai Bari where the warlords are all at because Jinbei called ahead and is like "I HAVE NEWS I WILL TELL YOU WHEN WE GET THERE!"

The Warlords and the Strawhats are all staring at each other as Boa tries not to swoon for Luffy. The seraphim are with them and looking at them all like they're dumb. Jinbei is so excited as he looks at his other coparents who are looking at mini versions of themselves and to the pirate crew and then to Jinbei specifically. Buggy is so confused and scared. He knows that Sanji is the kid of his "lieutenants" and the other three warlords but like honestly, he's scared.

"What the hell are these?" Crocodile asks.

"Seraphim is what Vegapunk called them. Look at them! It's us!" Jinbei says excitedly. "I know I've been unfairly having too much time-"

"You're in the crew!" Boa yells with a finger. "Of course you get a bunch of extra time with them!"

"But now with these you can all have a child again as well!" Jinbei grins and Mihawk just crouches down in that "Oh no God why me way" as he looks at their kid. Basically. Sanji is gripping their hair which Jinbei tries to get him to let go of. Doffy strings Sanji's hands to get them to stop. The Crew is ready to fight.

"Calm down, it's fine, I wasn't going to kill them this time." Doffy laughs.

"Oh but you would have last time?!" Sanji yells at him.

"If it came to it." Doffy shrugs with a grin and Sanji just starts yelling at him in a foreign language. Doffy is just laughing and then Sanji's legs light on fire and Mihawk groans. Crocodile sighs while Boa runs forward and holds Sani in a bear hug and squeals about no one mentioning that! She has Sanji in the air and spinning. Sanji is yelling at her now as Doffy laughs his ass off.

"What is going on?" Usopp asks in despair.

"He's our child, duh." Boa says.

"Well I'm their boyfriend so can you let them go?" Luffy asks. Nami chops Luffy's head, Zoro is screaming at Luffy for saying that and Mihawk for hiding it.

"So just to be clear, our child can set themself on fire, is dating their captain, Doffy almost killed them and would have if it came to it." Crocodile says.

"And they can sky walk." Jinbei nods proudly. Boa screams in delight and swings Sanji around more as they screams in another language and just losing it at his crew but Luffy blanks out.

"Sanji. Family meeting. Buggy, entertain them." Mihawk demands.

"Why me? Are you taking those things?" Buggy screams gesturing at the seraphim.

"No." And all the parents leave and Sanji is being carried by Boa as he's still yelling.

After the meeting Doffy, Crocodile, and Jinbei agree it's not worth trying to give Luffy a shovel talk. Boa and Mihawk on the other hand are going to give their child's captain a deep, deep, shovel talk. Also everyone is asking about the fire and Boa and Crocodile are picking apart his outfit which Boa and Sanji say Croc doesn't really have a leg to stand on there.

When they filter out of the tent where said family meeting took place they see Buggy and some of his crew members doing circus acts for the Strawhats and Seraphim. Luffy immediately rockets to Sanji and saying he's hungry and Sanji nods and invites everyone to the Sunny for dinner.

"Wait, so did you know Sanji before us?" Usopp asks Robin.

"No, I had heard of them but by the time I joined Sanji was already working at Baratie." Robin answers.

"How come you never told me the cook was your kid?" Zoro asks Mihawk.

"Because that would include explaining this convoluted mess and Sanji would have told you if they wanted to." Mihawk answers. "Strawhat found out at Marineford."

"What'd I find out?" Luffy asks.

"That we are Sanji's parents. Although there was quite a lot going on so I don't blame you for forgetting." Jinbei says with a pat to Luffy's shoulder.

"How did five warlords even end up with a kid?" Franky asks.

"Mihawk got me and Zeff off the rock and I went with him. Didn't want to leave me alone on Kuriagana so I went with him to meetings." Sanji shrugs. "The first few times I went with the others was because he had a job and then I just started getting passed around."

"You were so tiny back then!" Boa wails as she grabs Sanji and holds them close. Franky sets up the barbeque outdoor counters and Sanji frees themself and mutters the whole way to the galley to start gathering ingredients and supplies. Boa saddles up next to Luffy and starts to try the shovel talk but then she watches Sanji start chopping and slicing as the grill heats and just watches Luffy watch Sanji with the softest eyes. So instead she thanks him for getting Sanji back from Germa.

"Well yeah, he's my cook." Luffy says like it's obvious and suddenly to Boa it is.

Mihawk tries when Sanji drags Zoro to go do dishes with him saying it shouldn't take too long. Luffy is playing with the Seraphim who seem interested but confused. Luffy doesn't have a lot patience but he does have a lot of perseverance so he takes to teaching these things easily. Mihawk simply nods at Luffy who smiles widely at him.

When Sanji comes back out Nami wraps an arm around them and with a devilish grin.

"So how many drinks do I have to give out before I start to hear embarrassing stories?" Nami asks sweetly.

"Please don't." Sanji says.

"One time I took Perona and Baby 5 to Baratie and Sanji almost died five times!" Doffy calls from where he's perched next to Crocodile.

"Perona knew!?" Zoro yells.

"Yes, but she would only go to Kuriagana. I spent a lot of time painting nails." Mihawk drawls.

"Oh, I forgot to mention on our previous phone call but Sanji did kick Saint Jupiter." Jinbei nods proudly.

Mihawk pinches the bridge of his nose and groans as Doffy laughs. Boa is once again swinging Sanji around, Crocodile nods his approval at their child. Sanji is then pulled to their captain as the parents tell about Sanji's childhood. Boa coming through with photos she had marines take at warlord meetings of Sanji and their parents doing their absolute best or worst depending on the photo.