#being passionate about something doesn’t make you a loser

[supposethismatters]

What I DO NOT mean when I say I love an artist or content creator:

they are my friend. We have a personal connection.

I owe them loyalty and money and to defend them.

they owe me, a fan, loyalty and the kind of information and content that I want.

I know them so I get a say in who they hang out with and date.

What I DO mean when I say I love an artist or content creator:

I really enjoy what they do and thinking about it makes me happy. I appreciate them for sharing their art.

I admire them and look up to them. The person they present themselves as is likable and the kind of person I aspire to be like or associate myself with.

They create an important source of community and acceptance for me, as they allow myself and others to share a common flag to fly.

So when these artist say fuck off to people trying to control them and possess them I am supportive and glad they are taking their privacy and boundaries seriously.

However,

I DO feel less accepted and less comfortable with artists and creators who belittle the joy their fans take in the content and community they provide and often promote for profit.

Its always been unkind to make someone feel bad about liking something harmless. Why would it be any different because the person doing the shaming is the musician or screenwriter or actor or author or streamer that made the thing they love?

In fact it is worse to be bullied by someone you look up to for the horrible crime of liking what they do or being who they are!

So do artists “owe” their fans anything?

YES, they owe fans the same basic decency owed to all individuals. And they have the same responsibility every single one of us have to do the least amount of harm to each other as we can. Which is why fandoms all owe the creators they admire (and the creators they don’t) the same common fucking courtesy they should extend to non public figures and give them the space and autonomy to be people.

[hearts4werka]

NNN day 15 | Unspoken Words

“A pathetic what? Loser? Nerd? All bullshit labels you and your friends love throwing around?”

summary: it’s pouring rain outside and you’re in a heated argument with the so-called ‘loser skater boy’ of the school, Chris about your popular friend group constantly picking on him but you don’t know what you could possibly do about it, in the heat of the moment you accidentally confess your love for him that you’ve been bottling inside of you for ages now, how will Chris react to the sudden confession?

warnings: ANGST, heavy language, pouring rain, arguing, angry love confession, kissing, mentions of bullying & possibly more!

authors note: bro this is coming out so late I’m so sorry I seriously am having trouble keeping up with posting fics everyday I might just change the schedule for every two days so I have time to write the fic so from now on I’ll post NNN fics every two days and I’ll try to make them better too, luv y’all sm and hope y’all enjoy this one

The rain was relentless, pouring down in heavy falls as I stood at the edge of the high school parking lot, glaring at him. Chris, the loser skater dude sat leaned against the slick metal of his beat-up board as water streamed down from his dark hair. It was a pathetic sight, really, the way he was looking at me through the downpour like he truly believed I’d stand there and listen to him whine while my friends were making his life miserable just a few feet away. “Chris, it’s not my fault they’re dicks! Just stand up for yourself!” I yelled, the wind whipping my words back into my face. I could see him flinch at the sharpness in my tone, but honestly? He was pissing me the fuck off right now.

“Easy for you to say,” he spat back, his voice rising above the rain. “You think I want to get into it with them? They’ve made my life hell since middle school. And here you are, acting like you’re above it all.” “Whatever, Chris! You could actually do something about it, but instead, you stand there like a pathetic—” before I could finish my sentence, he cut right into the middle of it. “A pathetic what? Loser? Nerd? All bullshit labels you and your friends love throwing around?” My heart raced as the fight quickly escalated, frustration spilling out of me like the rain pouring down but hee wasn’t wrong, I could feel my friends laughing as they made comments, snickering at his expense as they walked past us.

I was too stubborn to admit that it bothered me, to admit that I felt trapped between two worlds — my friends who I felt loyal to, and Chris, whose passion for skating and the freedom he radiated off him drew me in. “Why don’t you just tell them to stop?” I snapped, fists clenched at my sides. “Oh, right!” he emphasized each word through gritted teeth, “Because you know they’d listen to me. ‘Oh, look at the loser! What a joke!’” He was pacing now, waves of frustration beaming from him as he glared at me. I could tell he was hurt and that made it worse for me. This wasn’t the first time we’d had this conversation, it seemed every time we met, our discussions turned into a bickering fight.

“Why can’t you just grow a backbone for once?” I found myself shouting, the words leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. Chris was the one person I didn’t want to keep fighting with. There was something inside me that pricked me at the thought of him being hurt—something that made me want to shield him from the world, even if I was part of the problem. “I get it, you’re popular, you have to keep up your perfect appearance.” His voice was cold and I hated that I could see right through it. “But that doesn’t mean you need to stand by while they bully someone who hasn’t done anything to you.”

The weight of his words hung between us, and for a moment, we both bathed in the silence, thunder rumbling in the background and threatening to strike. My breaths came ragged, and I could feel the frustration boiling over, a fierce mix of feelings I’d contained far too long. “Do you even care about them?” I shot back, suddenly feeling more bold, “I mean, seriously, do you care that I’m their friend? Or is it just about you being the victim here?” “Maybe if you gave them less attention, they’d stop. Ever think about that?” he shot back with a knife that cut deeper than any of my friends’ insults.

I took a step closer as rain soaked through my clothes, breath hitching as the heat between us crackled. “You think I’m just some heartless bitch, don’t you? You think I enjoy having these petty losers as friends? You know nothing about me,” I spat. He stepped forward, our faces inches apart as the storm raged around us. “So what’s stopping you from saying something? You’re the one with the power in this situation, right?” And just like that, the last strings broke inside me. I wanted to scream, I wanted to shake him and make him understand. “You don’t get it at all, Chris! Maybe I don’t always know what the fuck to do! Maybe—” My voice trembled and before I could think about the honesty I’m about to spill, I continued, “Maybe I just didn’t know how to tell you I liked you!”

His eyes widened, surprise sparkling in them and my heart tripped over itself at my confession. My cheeks burned and beneath the rain, I could feel the silence swallow us whole. The storm around us was like background noise as everything I pooled inside of me far too long, unraveling and honest. My breath caught as he closed the distance, moving so smoothly it caught me off guard. “What are you do—” Before I could finish, he tilted my chin up and pressed his lips to mine. The kiss was sudden as if he was attempting to drown out all the noise in my head, all the rambling I would never stop. It felt electric, warmth pulsing through my veins that made the rain fade into nothing.

When he finally pulled away, my pulse immediately started to race. I blinked up at him, confusion swirling inside of me. “Wait… Did you just really kiss me to shut me up?” He smirked, a shimmer of playfulness in his blue eyes. “Maybe,” he replied and I couldn’t help but laugh, the tension slowly dissolving into something lighter, something filled with hope. “So, popular girl, what now?” I hesitated but with a new fire building inside of me I grinned and said, “We show those little bastard who not to mess with.” And as the rain poured and drenching us both, I realized that maybe, just maybe, we’d figure it out together.

@hearts4werka |

𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 🏷️ | - @sturnsxplr-25 - @strnzzvsp - @luvvs4chriss - @sturniolosweetheart33 - @pussypie456 - @venusxsturnio - @bagsbyclair0 - @sturnstvs - @dykes4chris - @hoe4matt - @cayleeuhithinknott - @strnilolover - @marrykisskilled - @phone4pills - @emely9274 - @cupiidk1lls - @lily-strnlo - @nicksgirlfriend - @sturniolosiphone - @sophand4n4 - @zombiesturniolo - |

[neptunes-sol-angel]

"I'm finna get this sh*t off my chest and lay it to rest". Pick the gif(s) that you're drawn to the most, then scroll for its corresponding message of me dissing your haters! 🐍🤭

Paid Readings | Botanica | Tip Jar

Pile One

Your haters are definitely people that are from your past which could consist of those who you’ve shared a close connection with and a group of individuals that were prominent in your childhood. These people made you discover both the positives and negatives that come with the feeling of being passionate, meaning at some point they made you feel really high about yourself and could have been the reason for one of your moments where you felt really low. You could have had an explosive argument with them or have experienced mounds of anger because they’ve betrayed you in a way that involves using your sensitivities as a way to manipulate you and degrade you. Just a lot of bullying energy here, maybe their goal was to make you feel less significant or capable and alone because of your interests that are considered taboo. They could be dark empaths or people pleasers who aren’t equipped enough to handle conflict without throwing someone, regardless of how close you are with them or how long you’ve known them for, under the bus and could also struggle with finding their own independence and confidence to stand up for those that they were supposed to love or what makes them authentic. I feel like your haters are just sore losers, they don’t know how to accept when they’ve lost. What’s pathetic is that they’ve spent so much time trying to get rid of you because they assumed it would make them superior or elevate them in a social circle. Your haters could show a lot of cowardice in a way that blocks them from being creative or gaining in their career, social network, or reputation.You and your haters could have similar backgrounds but cope very differently. They’re very impatient and could make impulsive and destructive choices for fast rewards that may feel beneficial when they gain them but turn ineffective as fast as when they received it. They’re great at conducting illusions though. At one point you could have seen them as crafty, but they’re a one trick pony. Their method in tearing someone down includes repetitively bringing up the same insults to cover up the fact that they can’t roast or really say anything truly jarring about you so they cling to that one thing to see if it will stick. I don’t even think your words are something that hurts you, it’s the fact that they intend to  stoop low is what hurts you. I see several themes of them trying to utilize shame. Shaming you for your quirks is the most obvious but I see a lot of sexual themes too. Your haters could have tried to make you feel as if you were less of the gender that you identify with or they’ve used slut shaming tactics with you which could have been severely traumatizing if you were really young and in school. They’re the type to not have anything else on you so they start making up stuff to again, see it sticks. I feel like you clapback at this by being who they’re not, which is someone that doesn’t care about what others have to say about them. You don’t answer to gossip or let someone convince you that your likes are what will keep you behind, you acknowledge that your likes are what makes you the shit and it shows in how people are positively drawn to you and want to see and hear more from you without you having to wear a mask for people to “like” you. Your haters can’t relate and that’s why they’re upset. You make them even more mad when you’re empowering and accepting yourself while they’re trying to expose you, even if they do it through lies, you’re like “Ok. This is who I am. Now what?” and this is how the tables turn.

What they did to you was a displacement of their own anger towards people they feel lower than which is a lot of people, including you. They got buck with you because they saw your kindness as a weakness and that was their mistake. What makes this pathetic is that they spent so much energy trying to get rid of you just to come back to see if they can have a seat at your table because they see you’re doing big things, that you’re happier without them, and that it’s no fun throwing away genuine people to impress people who don’t care at all about them. As much as they tried to make it seem like you’re invisible, you’re now in their minds rent free. What your haters don’t see coming, is how they’re about to recognize how extremely wrong in not just their actions towards you, but their judgment in how you weren’t going to be supported. It’s going to be very apparent for people in this pile on how much you guys are actually loved. You’re going to realize that the things that you felt like you missed out on in the past, actually never really mattered. Like for an example, you could have desired to “be like the cool kids” or just “normal,” because of the people that made you feel bad, but you’ll learn that your haters are the type to peak in high school or something that doesn’t really amount to anything in life compared to what you’ve been patiently building for yourself. Maybe you don’t see yourself as patient because you get frustrated, however, I see that it’s because you’ve actually always seen the value in yourself but you’ve dealt with people misunderstanding you which is something you’ve learned is out of your control but your anger is geared towards people who react so negatively to what they can’t be patient on or understand. I’m seeing changes with this that can look like reconciliation with family members who correct their behavior towards you instead of trying to control what you want to do with your life or enabling abusive behavior towards you or you could successfully build a community or a name for yourself where people look up to you or find inspiration from you to instill more confidence and self-love towards yourself but also some form of justice that they’re looking for.

The problem with your haters is they’re lost when it comes to finding their own personality and instead of working on that, they’d rather cling onto other people by shadowing them in some way but they still expect to outshine the source which isn’t at all how it works. They could be grifters or have the tendency to copy others or go after your “hand me downs” so that they can feel like they’re on your level. They’re the type to talk down on what you have but in private try to figure out how they can emulate you. Your name is still on their tongue and embedded in their brains long after you parted ways with them because it’s the only way that they can have relevancy. They’re like salt hating on all the other spices. If they spent more time working on their own flavor instead of trying to tear you down for what makes you stand out, then they would finally find themselves instead of making their bland nature everyone else’s problem. They lack seasoning and it shows in how they treat people. Unfortunately you can’t save them from that, so always remember that you don’t have to get even with them, their misery is already turning them every which way but loose. 

Pile Two

A wise woman named Beauteuss once said “How do you expect me to chase you? Baby, I’m so coquette cunt”. I feel like this is your energy and why you have your haters UPSET with you. You have a superpower that most people are afraid to step into or fail to acquire and control which is to stand on business. This comes so naturally to you that the bare minimum doesn’t even cross your mind when you interact with people. You could have a strong balance of venusian and martian energy, you’re charming and know how to have your way with others without seeming manipulative because you’re an open book. What you see is what you get, you mean what you say, you’re very honest with how you feel about others, and you’re bravely upfront about what you want. People could envy your love life or the attention that you get. They want to know your secret with how you have people wrapped around your finger. They want to know how you’re able to be in situations where you’re taken care of by people while still having authoritative people in a chokehold. In your haters’ mind, they see their connection with you as a wrestling match that they cannot win. Your haters tend to be people who are in your career field or environments both physical or virtual where there’s a competitive atmosphere. They have big personalities that are threatened by your resistance or nonchalant attitude to submit to anyone. It just seems like what you have when it comes to magnetism or magisterial prestige is the real deal that people around you can’t help but respect it even if they initially tried to overpower you. Their dominance is more of a defense mechanism, or like the equivalent of how animals exaggerate their features to scare away bigger predators. They have to create a facade in order to control the situation or others. They aren’t really secure with their accomplishments or faith in themselves because they can’t handle coexisting with people who have strong personalities.

Regardless of your gender, men see you as a threat because they feel like you’re better than them or that you should know your place. You do know your place and that’s the problem. You don’t allow romance to trick you out of your independence or stay in situations that don’t give you what you deserve or what you seek. You are a vibrant seducer, people tend to be engulfed by how you stimulate their self esteem and sexual desires but they mess up by thinking that you’re something to be possessed. Your lovers can turn into your enemies when they realize that they can’t control you or take you away from you wanting your own things. You could have been in multiple jobs where your boss had this mysterious hostility towards you even if you’re doing what you’re supposed to do and don’t really talk as much. It’s because they see that it’s destined for you to be your own boss and outgrow them in terms of professionalism. For people who think that they can’t relate to this energy because it seems exaggerated, it’s because the main thing that your haters fear about you is your potential which is why you attract people in one-sided competitions with you. You destroy your haters by seeing what they see in you. Some things for people are written in the stars, your haters see you as the kind of person who’s able to manifest luck, success, and specific luxuries based on how confident and appealing you are to others and how well life responds to your beliefs. They could be jealous of how what could be delusional or unrealistic for them comes into fruition in your life. They could actually try to believe that you have a big head until they see for themselves that you have physical evidence that back up your confidence and influence on others. Your haters just see you as a reflection of how feeble they are with wanting more for themselves. Your haters could be older people of the same sex as you because you remind them of what they don’t have anymore or regrets over things that they should have pursued in their youth. They could also be jealous of how sensually desirable you are to people both your age and older. They feel like other people see you as someone who can do no wrong. They want your grit, your ability to get things from others, your beauty, your canniness to destroy anyone who does you wrongly, your assertiveness to stand up for yourself, and your reluctance to settle for anything less. What riles your haters is how you don’t have to beg.

You don’t require anyone else’s permission on when and how you can take time for self care. Your colleagues wish they could be like you when it comes to prioritizing yourself or how you think and act like the job needs you more than you need it. You could have a talent for having multiple streams of income. I’m picking up a lot about platforms on social media or you being in an industry where people who may have more than you secretly admire what you bring to the table, but instead of seeing your gifts as something beneficial, they try to hide you or ignore you as a way to stagnate your growth. But I see that it never works because if you’re in a space where people don’t want to give you any credit, you don’t cry over it or invest more of your labor thinking that things will change, you move onto somewhere else and end up still living up to the purpose that people tried to keep you from reaching. This mindset translates itself to many different areas in your life, especially in love. You don’t chase after people withholding their respect for you and it shows your haters that they have a lot of growing to do and evaluation for toying with power dynamics is not serving them in the way that they think it is. You make your haters question if they truly have any finesse or not by making them overthink their position and credibility in life. You make them consider how they’ve been denying themselves from their inner prowess and how they’ve allowed their past failures to consume their competence for optimism and compassion. 

Pile Three

Your haters are obsessed with the fact that you don’t want anything to do with them. These are people who are used to playing back and forth games with other people. They’re so used to always being in drama and chaos or someone chasing after them to continue these same old messy cycles that it completely baffles them when you don’t engage with their toxicity. I’m seeing that you could be really patient with people who keep poking to get a reaction out of you until they go too far. You might cuss them out, but that’s about it. You say what you need to say and feel about this person and then you cut them off and move on with your life. The closure that you give to others is very brief or sharp, people may even consider it as foul, but you don’t do it for anyone’s liking or entertainment, you do it for yourself to release the stress that you’ve been carrying so that it can bring you to a start in your healing journey away from that conflict. Your haters are very lost when it comes to reality and their ego. I see this vision of two people playing a game, one person is constantly cheating throughout it, and when the other person finally decides to walk away, the cheater thinks that they’ve won. They’re proud of themselves until it settles in that they didn’t really win anything, you don’t care anymore, and you’re not coming back to play that game with them any longer and they’re dumbfounded yelling out to you “that’s it? You’re not playing anymore? Wait come back!” and you’re like no thanks, I’m good. I’m actually going to hold your hater’s hand and tell them in the nicest way possible that they need to find a life and that no one is concerned with them since they’ve driven out every single person that’s close to them from their life by being delusional and childish. They want to be the it person so bad by actually thinking that they have haters and that people are obsessed with them when no one cares enough to be. They rely on playing mind games with people to make it seem like they have influence on others and to boost their ego but they have no idea that it’s not the kind that they think. It’s getting to the point where if they’re into spirituality and feel like they’re being evil eyed, then it’s probably 100% true but not because they’re an icon or anything like that. People are wishing for their downfall because this hater does not know when to stop provoking others and will eventually get clocked if they don’t stop.

The universe is special with its timing but humans are faster when they want consequences to be dished out. But this person has a particular obsession with you because you got away unscathed the most from them. Things don’t have to be taken away from them or done to them for them to suffer. The punishment for them that’s going to hurt the most, is them seeing you live your best life, genuinely finding peace and healing away from the hurt that they were going to heavily imprint on your life. They’re going to have to witness you step by step, moving on and finding your groove back with yourself and newer connections with people who will treat you better. This is a teaching moment for them to understand that being toxic is not cute. They will meet their match and it won’t come from a person willing to stoop that low with them. They were mistaken to try their luck with you and now they’ll have no choice but to be haunted with this lingering feeling of you looking down on them forever even when you’re actually looking away (out of sight and out of mind). 

[dangopango00]

Carrying Your Loser BF like a Princess

Losermen x GN Reader

(Kenma, Levi, Abyss) x GN Reader

A/N: BY LOSER i mean they are very passionate about sth (usually games) and/or awkward as hell. Geeks nerds. I love them. just wanted to write some silly simple hcs so here

A/N but after writing: I am physically incapable of writing something short oh my god. They just kept getting longer and longer as I kept writing omg 😭

HCS UTC

Kenma

- Won’t want you to do this kind of thing in public bc it’s a bit embarrassing + he’s not really into PDA but in private its so different:

- Nonchalant. If anything probably surprised you can carry him if you’re shorter or really skinny

- Only really concerned if it’s disrupting his game but if he’s on his switch or sth portable then he has no complaints

“What are you doing?”

“Carrying you like the pretty princess you are 😋”

“?” (Probably glances at your silly smirk and looks back to his game)

- He often doesn’t respond to your shenanigans, he needs to focus and is not going to risk losing braincells with your nonsense (rude ✋😔)

- Likes it and it’s not a secret— he just doesn’t say it out loud; it’s obvious

- Sometimes he’ll randomly sit on your lap perpendicular to you in the princess position so you’re ready to sweep him off his feet whenever

- As a guy who hates getting tired and often gets left behind at places bc he was too focused on his phone or switch, it’s really convenient tbh

- Kisses you on the cheek and the side of the face when he’s feeling silly but usually he expects YOU to shower HIM in kisses even though you’re already carrying him smh actual cat princess behavior 😒

- Eventually if—when he gains more confidence in public he will have you carry him around everywhere if he’s busy gaming bc its convenient and lovely (imo I think he probably got more confident post timeskip but tbh I didn’t get that far in the manga so I literally do not know lmao)

Levi

- Blushy if its in private DOWNRIGHT CATATONIC if its in public

- Extremely perplexed as to how you did it bc he’s most likely way bigger than you and engulfing you just by being in your arms but he’s literally so flustered he can’t even think about that rn

A/N: I hate typing out stutters but he’d stutter and trip over his words sm srry gng

“H-huh? What are y-you doing?!”

“Carrying the prettiest princess in the world 🥺”

“!?!?!!?”

- Can’t even respond. free him 😭😭 (Don’t. he wants to be in your arms as long as possible)

- Really not used to being carried AT ALL and hides his face in the crook of your neck while holding onto you; does not want to be dropped or make eye contact with anyone who has the misfortune of witnessing this; he’d have to jump (he’s being a silly goose)

- Conflicted as hell because on one hand HE wants to be the hero saving the princess and sweeping you off your feet but on the other hand it feels really nice to be doted on every once in a while….

- Feels so uncool and pathetic for enjoying it but you assure him it doesn’t make him less cool to accept love

- Sits so close to you he’s basically on your lap when he either wants to be held or wants to try holding you (He’s afraid he’ll drop you though)

- Probably happened in TSL (seems like sth henry would do tbh) and he’s freaking out about it bc this is NAWT the scene he wanted to reenact with you but it’s still so cool and you’re so cool and pretty and handsome and….. oh he’s been staring at you for a while hasn’t he? Time to crawl in a hole and die

Abyss

- Actually just bewildered 😭😭 blushy too but like. Extremely confused

- Would not like you to do it around Abel but if you did he wouldn’t get mad or anything, he’d just be unable to converse like a normal person

- CONFLICTED he likes the feeling and the proximity because he can feel the fanning of your breath on his skin, see every one of even your most menial features, feel the burn of his face under your gaze, enjoy the warmth of your body close to his, etc but at the same time its a bit odd to him (he just has to get used to being loved, I fear)

“!” (Shocked breath inhale)

“How does it feel to be the prettiest princess in the world? 🥹”

“Uh.. um…..g..good…..” (Probably gulped and everything 😭)

- He’s silly he answers every question seriously even if it’s rhetorical 😭❤️ thinks you’re seriously asking him

- Definitely a fan after getting used to it especially when you kiss the side of his face (ESP ESP if u kiss his eyelids or near his eyes) (I say eyes bc yes you kiss both; you show love to every part of him which is so endearing to him bc it shows that you aren’t just trying to make him feel better about his backstory but just love all of him)

- WILL CARRY YOU IN RETURN !! So much so that for every 1 time you carry him he’s probably carried you like 5 times in any position you’d like (nothing too scandalous though, he might evaporate)

- Reverts to back when you two were in the pining stage when he wants affection in general (not specifically being carried but it usually includes this or at least laying across your lap) and starts stuttering like crazy, unable to even talk properly nor can he even look you in the eye; shakes violently

- Smells your hair, sorry. If you are. Bald he just smells you— your perfume, your cologne, your natural musk whatever. He shoves his face into your neck and he just wants to be as close to you as possible

[enkvyu]

cicadas fill in the summer silence as you sit at your desk, waiting for class to start. you're vaguely aware of your three classmates seated beside you and perhaps it’s because you're caught in the ambiance of a perfect day, but something like sentimentality seeps in.

“today's the kind of day where i’m reminded how important you guys are to me.”

shoko hums, eye trained on her phone. “you’re reminded?”

“you forgot at some point?” gojo adds.

you groan as getou chuckles, the heartfelt speech dying immediately in your mouth. when he lightly presses you to continue, you wave away his feigned interest.

"but i'm curious!”

you jab your finger in shoko and gojo's direction, and the two ignore you as they continue playing multiplayer snake on their nokia 6610s. "blame those two."

getou grins. "if it’s anything, you mean a lot to me too."

you muffle a smile. "i changed my mind, you're the only one that means anything to me."

"fuck, i lost!" gojo exclaims, sliding back into his chair to throw a fit. "but i never lose, how is this possible? you cheated, shoko!"

"don't be a sore loser, that's even worse than being an ordinary loser."

"i wouldn't have lost if you didn't cheat!"

there's a hard glint in shoko's eye. "does that mean what i think it means?"

gojo leans in. "yes. that means another round."

you look over at them unamused. "any second now, yaga is going to walk into this room and complain our ears off for how noisy you two are being."

shoko yawns and you hear beeping as she plunges into another game. "it’s fine, we’ll know when he gets close enough to hear us anyway. he doesn’t walk, that man stomps down the corridor."

"he’s not the only one that’ll complain about the noise. i might join him in a minute if the two of you won’t shut up, it’s too hot for this." getou joins in, but no one pays him any mind.

"you're going down this time, shoko."

"eat my dust."

you catch gojo sparing shoko a quick glimpse before the starting music plays, and watch with interest as they flicker over to her again.

leaning back, you peer at shoko's screen as her desk was closest to yours, and find that she was once again slithering to victory, gobbling every apple she finds in her way. without a doubt, you were sure she would win.

"gojo," getou sighs. "you're really shit at games."

something bumps into shoko's side and she gives it a quick glance to find that it was gojo's elbow.

"sorry, my arm slipped." he says, but the smirk on his face suggests otherwise.

while shoko is not morally-just enough to condemn cheating, she's oddly passionate about games and thus her desire to win fair and square holds back her anger. she lets the action slide without a counterattack although that doesn't stop her from calling gojo trash.

but when gojo kicks the leg of her chair, causing her to fingers to tremble and miss an apple, she glares at him. "you're playing dirty!"

"i have no idea what you mean." gojo sings. "yes, i'm a point ahead! see what happens when you don't cheat, shoko? i guess that's why you have to do it, otherwise you would just lose lose lose all the time!"

you wince.

shoko clenches her phone harder and closes the point difference in a matter of seconds. but that alone is not enough to settle her irritation.

lifting her foot up, she slams her heel down hard on gojo's ankle and he yelps at the pain. "hey! now you're actually cheating!"

"so you admit i wasn't before!"

gojo doesn't answer and blatantly shoves at shoko's chair. she has to use a hand to steady herself, making her lose another apple and mess up her snake's path. in return, shoko hits gojo's face which presses his glasses in.

"hey!"

"you started this." shoko's victorious smile dims when gojo reaches for her phone and she pulls back just in time. "that's not fair!"

"you're only saying that now?" getou observes.

you look at him. "shouldn't we stop them?"

with gojo stretched out, trying to get shoko's phone, it leaves his stomach vulnerable. shoko rams her fingers into his side and he squeals at the sensation.

shoko yells your name over the chaos. "grab him!"

"getou, you have my back, don't you?" gojo says a second later.

the two of you stand instinctively as your names are called, but you both hover around helplessly. it's only when they say your names again, do you move.

gojo makes one more stretch for shoko's phone as you reach for him, only successfully managing to grab onto one of his wrists. it doesn't hold him back though, he still has his other hand after all, and now getou is beside shoko, hands out ready to tickle her.

shoko giggles slightly when getou's fingers meet their target and it might have been an opening if you hadn't clung onto gojo, pulling him back with your entire weight.

"get off me!" he says to you over his shoulder.

you look back, somewhat confused at your own actions. "no?"

shoko pulls back her arm holding her phone, jamming her elbow into getou's chest. though it doesn't hurt, he steps back anyway. "what are we doing?"

the struggle continues for a few seconds more until the classroom door is pulled to the side with a bang and someone steps through.

the shock of the sudden sound makes shoko loosen her grip and gojo catches that weakness. the tips of his fingers barely grazes her phone and with a final push, and an extension of his infinity, he knocks the phone from her hand.

he knocks the phone from her hand, too hard.

you watch in suspended awe as the object flies across the room in a beautiful arc—

"good morning—"

and hits yaga in the face. it rebounds off his cheek and clatters noisily on the ground. shoko ducks down as the three of you freeze in position, picking up her phone and pocketing it safely.

anger makes yaga's head burn bright red. "who did that?"

calmly, you sit back into your chair and hear the sound echo beside you. without saying a word, the three of you point to gojo.

"yaga! in my defence, shoko was cheating!"

you don't need to look to know yaga had crossed the room and landed a solid fist on gojo's head, his quick cry of pain is alone enough.

yaga fixes his sleeves and clears his throat. "are we ready to start class?"

cicadas chirp from outside your window, and the noise drowns into the bustling hum of a familiar routine. yaga picks up a piece of chalk and turns his back to the class, getou tucks away his bangs from getting in his eyes and shoko yawns into her hand. gojo sinks deeper into his chair, sulking, and you know that even without mentioning your appreciation for them, they could feel it just like how you felt theirs.

it surrounds you like the summer humidity.

dialogue prompt taken from going seventeen episode 61. just some quick silly sashisu + reader stuff because i miss them.

[sugar-crash]

🏎️Turbo (Wreck-It Ralph) x (gn) Reader🏁

(Beginning Relationship Pt. I Edition!)

(It took me fucking forever to find a picture from the movie of Turbo [far too cowardly to use fanart]. Which, as we all know, is fitting.)

- To go into deeper detail on this, your time dating Turbo when he was all high and mighty was… Eventful to say the very least.

- We don’t know much about how Turbo pre-RoadBlasters disaster besides the most obvious points: passionate, sore winner, an even sorer loser, hot-headed, and finally the cherry on this red-white cake; Spite.

- His passion for various things bleeds into the other things in his life, giving a drive that goes beyond the racing track, with the relationship he gains with you being one of those things with a lot of time and patience.

- Victory kisses at the end of the day are a must, even when listening to his frustrated woes from certain players playing game wrong, saying things like “I’M FATTEST RAT IN THE RACE! WHY SHOULD I SUFFER WHEN THESE MOTION DEAF TERMITES DECIDE TO PUT A COUPLE OF COINS IN MY GAME???” ….Yeah <3

- I think in many ways that if you get his trust so much to the point where you guys start dating, he just kinda expects you to listen to his aggravated rants and not do the same for you— Which takes a lot of time to rectify, in his mind he doesn’t think you “have it as bad” as him, as ignorant as that is.

- Yeah he doesn’t exactly get a trophy for “best lover”, that’s for sure.

- And his stubborn behavior doesn’t make that any better, takes him a while to get certain things drilled into his brain when he finally realizes what you’re saying isn’t “nagging”.

- Don’t get him wrong, I genuinely think he has the capability to care for someone else over himself, it just takes a whole lot of work for him to consciously realize that.

- PDA isn’t really much of a thing for Turbo (except for his “well earned” victory kisses) , he has a reputation to uphold as one of the most popular game characters in the arcade, though behind closed doors he basically demands the attention you give him at first.

- If you don’t like being ordered around and tell him as such, it takes a series of fights to realize being bossy in a romantic relationship (or any in general) isn’t exactly the best thing. The obvious in these situations isn’t to him, he has a very one track mind (pun intended) and doesn’t like change when it effects him.

- Which is very understandable, human even, I think that many of us, if we had a choice, would keep things just the way we like it. But— Life itself is all about change, conflict, differing opinions, etc. And while it is aggravating to no end, it’s something a person has to come to terms with.

- Someone like Turbo struggles with that concept, why can’t he act the way he finds more natural?? This stone set mindset drives many way, even the people from his game— Even you at times.

- He loves you to death, with the way he sticks close to you after hours, the way he gets a momentary soft look at you when he thinks you aren’t looking is perceptible to people who pay attention.

- Much like his latter self, King Candy, he has the tendency to hide things from you— Not in a way that maintains a noble or joyous persona, but in a way that tries to hide his softness for you, the desire to clutch you close and never let go.

- The feelings your mere existence gives him scares him, not that he would ever admit that, not even to himself.

- He hates that at times his feelings depend on how you feel, and trying to understand it only stirs the pot, touches of comfort are met with a scoff and some variation of “I’m not some fragile lamb you can comfort.” Though at that point his reactions aren’t nearly as explosive as they used to be.

- Over time I believe that with your help he is able to maintain more composure— Thinking before acting, which is something he is desperate need for.

- Your relationship is very hit and miss at times, but what is love without conflict? BORING, that’s what I say at least.

- Who he is as a whole is both a blessing and a curse, really makes a person think in a “What goes on in that asshole’s head? And how the fuck did he get with someone?”

- The time you have with him before RoadBlasters was installed was special, not perfect in the slightest, but you guy had your moments that one can look at later on with a sense of melancholy.

(Abyiv-ahzapj! *SVBK MHYA UVPZL*)

[inuyashaluver]

hi! could you write something for maya le tissier where she has an athlete gf for a sport like tennis or something and goes to one of her games? <3

ace - maya le tissier

maya le tissier x reader

description: in which you and your girlfriend are each other’s biggest fans

warnings: a little long? i think that’s it!

a/n: maya baby! thanks so much for the request, enjoyyy❤️

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

if someone told you and your girlfriend’s childhood selves that you both would not only live out your dreams of being together, but pursuing your lifelong passions as well, they’d have a heart attack.

you and maya, two peas in a pod have been absolutely inseparable since you were kids, growing up together in guernsey.

maya had always been drawn to football, having to play in the boys team just for some play time.

whereas, for you, it's always been tennis. you both met in school, running around crazily and excitedly during sports that no one seemed to enjoy. you quickly gravitated towards each other and never stopped from then on.

growing up in the same neighbourhood proved to be extremely beneficial for the two of you, countless afternoons spent at each other’s houses, chatting, laughing, yearning.

—

maya laid down a soft blanket in her backyard, the stars shining above as you came out with a tray of snacks in hand.

maya smiles when she sees you, hurriedly emptying your hands and ushering you to sit down. you both laughed and conversed, the pining glances almost unbearable when the other wouldn’t notice.

you lay down next to each other, your head resting on maya’s bicep as you both looked up at the stars. the cool breeze brushed against your skin but the warmth radiating from both of your bodies was all you needed.

maya would point out constellations to you, not in a scientific way but the maya way, making crazy pictures out of them just to hear your laugh.

“these are all your ancestors, star girl, say hi” maya teases, lifting up your hand and waving it excitedly, you laugh brightly, slapping her chest lightly as she giggles.

“says you, superstar” you mock, snuggling into her a little further when she pulled you closer slightly.

you and maya talked back and forth, about all your dreams, what you wanted to see the other doing in the future, swearing with a pinky promise the two of you would try your hardest to get there.

—

your friendship only blossomed as the two of you got older, even in high school the two of you proved to still be attached at the hip. so much so, people were questioning whether the two of you were dating. you both wished you were but were too scared.

you both joined better teams and facilities, still making an effort to spend all your free time together whenever you could. you and maya were each other's biggest supporters, through the thick and thin. celebrating the wins and the losses with a big hug which eased both of your worries.

—

“star girl!” maya beams brightly, holding her arms out to you as you walk into her embrace after a rare loss of a match. your head was nuzzled into her chest, the girl whispering words of praise to you as she gently rubbed up and down your back with her warm hand.

“i lost” you mumble against her training hoodie, “doesn’t matter, you were amazing as usual” maya says sternly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as you hug her tightly.

you weren’t a sore loser, not at all, but there was something so gratifying about winning a match, especially if you knew maya was watching, the girl coming immediately after training just in time for your match.

you allow yourself to be vulnerable with maya, something she did with you too. there was no judgement, only love and support when your walls would break down.

you breathe out sadly against her and maya frowns a little, pulling you to be at arm's length from her. “should we go get some ice cream?” maya smiles softly, moving a stray hair bothering your eyes away, you pout up at her slightly and she would love nothing more than to kiss it away but she couldn’t.

“not sure i deserve it” you sigh, maya moves her hand to lightly flick your forehead, making you jolt back as she stifled a giggle, “of course you do, come on” she moves her hands to rest on your biceps, giving them a gentle squeeze before grabbing all your stuff in her arms despite your numerous protests.

a sharp glare was sent your way when your hand attempted to grab your racket bag, dropping your hand with a huff “may, you’re tired, let me hold it,” you groan, maya shakes her head with a chuckle, “so are you” she taunts, you shut your mouth at that, you were exhausted, not just physically.

you were instantly cheered up when maya took you for ice cream, maya proud of her work when you couldn’t stop smiling as she dropped you off home.

you pull her into a tight hug when she walked you to your door, “thank you” you whisper, kissing her cheek quickly, continuing to hold onto her tightly.

“anytime, babe” she says softly, her hands comfortingly pressed against your back before reluctantly letting you go.

—

you and maya both had a mutual understanding that you liked each other, it was pretty obvious with the amount of affection you had for one another.

though your relationship didn’t progress yet, both of you waiting to see who would make that first move. and funnily enough, maya did it by accident when you were both 17.

you give her a bright wave when she finally sees you from the pitch during the line up, she grins at you brightly and sends you an equally excited wave, gaining some teasing from her teammates that she shook off like it was nothing.

whenever you were at each other’s games, you played better than ever, wanting to impress one another, in reality, you could both just sit in silence and the other would be in absolute awe.

maya had placed exceptionally well, hearing you cheer for her loudly amongst everyone else. her team had won an easy 2-0 match, and when that final whistle blew, maya didn’t waste any time and bounded over to you.

when she approached you, she noticed you with her number written neatly on your cheek, her heart beating out of her chest as she took in your appearance, in your tennis gear that she loved.

“hi, gorgeous” she says as she nears you standing on the other side of the barrier, “hey, champion” you tease, a proud smile evident on your face.

maya chuckles, without thinking, cradling your cheek in her hand and pressing a quick, tender kiss to your lips, your breath hitched when you felt her warm lips against yours, tensing when she pulled away with an expression of horror.

“oh my god” she breathes out, “i’m so sorry, oh my god, i am so sorry, i wasn’t thinking!” she rambles, you blink at her slowly, slightly dazed.

her rambling continues while you just stare at her in slight shock, hearing apologies spill from her lips as she hyperventilates.

“may” you say softly, her eyes finally meeting yours as her breathing began to settle. “it’s okay” you smile, feeling a little brave and pressing a quick kiss to her lips. she’s bright red when you pull away, so were you but you really didn’t care.

you both just smile at each other for a couple of seconds before breaking out into large fits of giggles, maya pulling you into a tight embrace, a wordless confirmation for the both of you that forever just started.

—

when maya got signed to manchester united, you luckily got a new contract and coach lined up in manchester and you just couldn’t decline.

you both moved into an apartment that just radiated love and warmth. elements of you and maya imbued in the residence.

you and maya were highly established athletes, you’d won countless amounts of championships and grand slams that you couldn’t even display the trophies anymore.

maya as well was extremely well decorated, countless amounts of awards and accomplishments that struggled to be displayed as well.

and even though you and maya were incredibly passionate about sport, it always came a close second to the real first places in your hearts, each other.

you and maya always found beauty in the simple things in your lives, bundling up at home after a gruelling time at training. literally lying on top of each other as you cuddled, tuning out the rest of the world while you’d both lazily kiss away any worries of the day, the gentle lull of your shared favourite movie filling out the sounds of the room.

a frequent activity you and maya loved to do on the weekend being hand in hand exploring, whether it was a new cafe or just a walk around your street, you only needed the company of each other to feel that feeling of home. safety.

—

“baby?” she called out from the front door, smiling as she heard you running from the living room to see her standing in the entryway.

you waist no time jumping on the girl, she laughs brightly as she catches you by your thighs, her cheeks tinged with pink when you spread kisses all over her cheeks, purposely avoiding her lips.

“i missed you” you breathe out, maya smiles fondly, “i saw you this morning” she teases, you hush her with a sweet kiss to her lips, your mouths moving together softly before she places you back on the ground,

“missed you too, beautiful” she grins, pressing another kiss to your lips before hanging her keys on the hook next to her door and hurriedly taking off her shoes as you went back to the living room.

she quickly gets changed and smiles when she feels you hugging her from the back in your bedroom

“make dinner with me?” you mumble against her back, “of course” she says like it was obvious, waiting for you to spin around so she could playfully smack your backside, giggling when you sent her a halfhearted glare.

you did most of the work but maya helped diligently, helping you cut the vegetables for the pasta dish the two of you were making. moments like these were your favourite with maya, the little parts of life that made your heart feel fuzzy.

you stir the sauce gently as maya begins to huff in annoyance, “now what?” she groans, you laugh at her over your shoulder, “you wait now, baby” you smile, “let me stir” she demands, “no, you did it last time!” you laugh, maya comes up behind you and plants her hands firmly on your hips, relishing in the fact your outfit of choice was one of her jerseys.

she leans down to jokingly bite your shoulder, chuckling when you flinch under her, you stop stirring for a second and maya immediately takes over, claiming you weren’t good at your job.

you were sulking next to her, maya shaking her head amusingly as she picked you up and placed you on the counter next to her, one of her hands gently resting on your thigh as you both chatted about your days, talking about upcoming matches you both had slowly approaching.

maya would occasionally steal kisses amongst the laughter and the chatting, not that you were complaining, letting out a happy sigh against her lips when she kissed you a little longer, making her smile uncontrollably.

once dinner was ready, you both eat on the couch watching a romcom you’ve both watched a hundred times. a mutual favourite between the both of you. you and maya would quote the script to each other, laughing brightly at the movie.

by the time you’d both finished eating, you rest your head against her shoulder while you cuddled into her, giggling when maya would recreate the cringe moments in the movie to you just to hear you laugh.

whenever kiss scenes would come up, maya would scoff, always waiting for you to entertain her.

“he doesn’t know how to kiss a woman properly” maya shrugs, making you laugh and quickly shutting up when her head snapped towards you. “fine, i’ll prove it” maya grabbing your face and smashing her lips on yours, a kiss making you feel weak in the knees and completely light headed.

when she pulled away, she gave you a smug smile, winking and watching the movie like nothing even happened. funnily enough, she did this every time you watched this movie, you’re not complaining.

—

you were playing at wimbledon, maya couldn’t be more excited. you were already in london when maya had to stay back in manchester due to training, driving over as quick as she could to get there on time.

excitement bubbled in her veins when she entered the iconic wimbledon stadium, growing a little teary when she saw a picture of you for the final match, dressed completely in white according to the rules. maya snapped a photo of it, smiling brightly when she makes her way to your box.

she sits alongside your family, happily chatting while her leg bounced nervously as she waited to see you.

the cheers that echoed in the stadium when your name was called had her heart lurching, her eyes never leaving you as you walked out on the court completely composed .

maya always found you so attractive in times like this, never failing to remind you later on. you do the same thing when you watch her defending.

you just radiated confidence and determination when you took your step up on the court, highlighting why you were one of the best with each precise swing of your racket.

maya admired your skill, moments like these making her love you more than she ever could, endless. when you’d win a set, maya would cheer for you loudly with your family, bringing a little smile on your face when you could decipher her voice.

despite the pressure and intensity, you completely kept your cool, winning set for set when your focus was unwavering, executing each swing perfectly.

with a final breathtaking stroke, you sealed the title, when the match concluded, tears immediately welled in both yours and maya’s eyes, the crowd exploding into deafening cheers as your name was announced on the loudspeaker.

maya watched on proudly as you waved to the crowd, bowing to them and giving your opponent a warm hug in congratulations.

when you hoisted up that trophy, you looked straight at maya, both of you sporting bright grins as the cheers faded from your ears, the only thing mattering was each other.

as soon as all the formalities were over, maya rushed towards you, hoisting you up in a bone crushing hug. you cry into her shoulder as she cradles your head, whispering sweet nothings in you ear as you held on tight.

“my baby girl, so amazing, i’m so proud of you” maya says adoringly, her heart swelling with pride as she wiped away your happy tears. “i’m so happy you’re here, my lucky charm” you grin, your eyes glistening with gratitude when maya presses gentle kisses to your lips.

“you looked so good out there, you know?” maya smirks, her hand reaching to tug at the hem of your white skirt.

you laugh brightly at her, pulling her into another sweet kiss, “had to look pretty for my wag” you tease, maya chuckles, kissing your cheek affectionately, “my wag, my star girl” she says proudly, pulling you into another hug.

—

you both walked out of the stadium hand in hand, your hearts were full. maya boasted about you to your face and you couldn’t help but be sheepish around her compliments.

you had a taste of that pride when you watched maya play for manchester, wearing her jersey with a proud grin as you cheered loudly.

you and maya were each others biggest fans, and you both didn’t want it any other way.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

liked by ellatoone and 44,232 others

mayaletissier: i think i’ll stick to ball girl, wimbledon champ is too good for me

view all comments

yourname: hey, i think you’re good

↳ mayaletissier: don’t lie to me, you’re my girlfriend. you’re not supposed to lie.

↳ yourname: you’re a banging footballer, baby

↳ mayaletissier: i think i need private tennis lessons from a fit champion

↳ yourname: hm, i think i know someone

↳ mayaletissier: i think i can get you a private football coach too

↳ yourname: better be fit

[ddarker-dreams]

Sore Loser.

Yan Alhaitham x Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, manipulation and unbalanced power dynamics.  Word count: 1.1k.

“In case you somehow missed it while storming in here, I want to inform you that my work hours are posted outside my office. You should note that I’m not currently on the clock and am under no obligation to hold an audience with you.” 

You knew this would be no simple task. That’s why you’ve spent days — perhaps weeks, if you’re being totally honest — mentally preparing for this confrontation. Countless hours have been spent running mental simulations of this imperative moment. Still, despite your best efforts, you never achieved a breakthrough that’d navigate you through the obstacles lying ahead. Hence why you’ve been delaying this tête-à-tête no matter how much you recognize its needs to be resolved, and soon. 

Some might call it procrastination, or delaying the inevitable, but not you. You think of it as self-preservation. What small amount you have left to cling to, anyway. Today, that thin, already fraying self-preservation was pulled taut enough to snap. 

Which leads you here. The last place you want to be, paired with the very last person you want to see. 

Your gut tells you the feeling is far from mutual. Alhaitham’s expression might be schooled, betraying nothing that floats around in that sinister mind of his, but you’re certain he’s deriving some satisfaction from your disheveled appearance. It could be the nearly imperceptible quirk of his lips or how he went to such lengths to keep his words slow, as if savoring your attention. 

“Oh, trust me, I saw your little plaque.” 

“It comes as a relief to know you’re literate.” 

The creature seated before you cannot be a human being. There’s no way. You’ve dealt with some irritating men throughout your academic tenure — sometimes you wonder if the trait is an unspoken prerequisite to being accepted in higher education — yet none come close to this. The nonplussed air, that monotonous voice that is about as passionate as one reciting instructions from a manual. Oh, how it stokes a seething rage inside you that burns red hot. 

You slam your hands on his desk hard enough to jostle the various writing instruments and memorabilia. This little outburst earns a raised eyebrow, yet nothing else. It’s clear that the floor is yours. You’ll need to make every second count. 

“I know what you’ve been doing,” you whisper. Still nothing. No guilty body language that’d give himself away, his intense eye contact doesn’t even falter. Yours almost does. “Admittedly, I don’t know the specifics. I just think it’s interesting that ever since we broke things off, I’ve been receiving the cold shoulder from the academic world. An area you hold immense sway over.” 

He straightens out a pen that went askew from your previous action. “A quick correction: you used the incorrect pronoun.” 

“... Huh?” 

“You said ‘ever since we broke things off’ when the correct phrasing would be ‘ever since I broke things off.’ That was entirely your decision. I had no part in it.” 

It takes a few seconds for his words to register. What was once a steady yet contained flame ignites into a wildfire, seeking to smolder everything nearby into ashes. You can’t believe you saw something in him once. That you granted him a special residence in your heart, the door left unlocked so he wouldn’t need a key. In the wake of his forceful eviction, you’ve boarded up the windows and chained every potential entryway shut. There’s no fully surveying the damage left behind that you’ve been forced to clean up. 

Piece by piece, shard by shard. You knew picking up the jagged glass would hurt — you never could’ve fathomed how much it’d make you bleed. 

Unfortunately, he isn’t finished. While you mentally scramble to recollect your thoughts, he swoops in, talons sharp and ready to pierce your flesh. 

“Additionally, I don’t see why we’re having this conversation if, as you said yourself, you have no evidence to back your claims. This alleged abuse of power would be better discussed with the matra. I’d be cooperative with any investigation they open. In fact, why don’t we go visit them together—” 

“Stop it,” you cut him off, and surprisingly, he listens. “Is this— is this your way of tormenting me? Getting revenge? Does destroying what I’ve spent my entire life building satisfy your ego?” 

Alhaitham places his elbows on the desk, rests his chin on steepled fingers, and leans forward. You know that look. You were once intimately familiar with it. This is the posture he adopts when he’s studying. Analyzing every variable presented to him and unearthing what remains hidden. There is no secrecy beneath his scrutinizing gaze. Where some see a stubborn wall, he views a vast ocean of information, waiting to be absorbed by those who know how to find it. 

“You haven’t been sleeping well,” he notes. His voice is quieter. Almost tender, if such a word exists in his lexicon. You’re convinced it doesn’t. “Your foundation hides the worst of the eyebags, but I’m familiar with your normal complexion. The slightest change in pigmentation is enough to give you away.” 

You hug your arms close to your chest. “Who do you think is to blame for that?” 

“You wouldn’t like my answer.” 

His hand reaches for your wrist. You tense, your breath catching in your throat, yet you allow him to unfurl your protective stance. His skin is familiar. Warm, calloused from years of dutifully scribbling onto documents. You feel his eyes boring at and through you. Cataloging your every reaction, retrieving past memories to best advance his goals. 

He’s never quite as detached as you wished he would be. 

There’s an underlying fondness when he speaks your name, gentle as a soft breeze, and almost as indiscernible. 

“You must be at your wit’s end if you’re coming to me unprepared like this,” he sighs. The spell is broken, the hypnotist’s wristwatch frozen midair. You go to jerk your hand back, only for him to tighten his grip, not enough to hurt, but enough to effectively communicate his point. 

“I’ve always been partial to you, so I suppose a little overtime wouldn’t hurt just this once. I believe I have a solution for the predicament you’ve found yourself in. We could discuss it, if you’d like. How about over dinner? It’ll be my treat.” 

You did come here searching for a solution — though this is the last one you’d ever want. 

“... How much of this did you plan?” 

“I’m unsure what you mean,” his tongue might wax deceit, but his lips offer a glimmer of truth. They curl into a content smile. “I take it that’s a yes. Our usual spot, then?” 

It’s occurs to you that you were worried about the wrong thing all along. 

There was no point in fortifying your defenses after you ejected him from your heart; he never intended to undergo a forceful re-entry. 

No, according to his design, you’d be the one undoing each lock to meet him outside. 

[alcoholfreenayeon]

Fine then I want one for Olivia hye 🐺

Hyeju Girlfriend HCs

SFW HCs

Playful but she always means well.

She isn’t a big fan of skinship but secretly does crave your touch more than she’d admit.

She doesn’t mind being affectionate with you though, giving you quick hugs and pecks.

Hyeju is so competitive in everything she does especially if it’s with you.

She loves competing in video games with you especially since she tends to win most of the times.

She can be mean with words sometimes though she’ll be quick to apologize.

She gets really passionate about the things she likes and can talk about it for hours.

She likes to do puzzles occasionally because it helps her keep fresh.

Hyeju likes to go on walks with you and her dog.

The two of you go out to eat frequently, trying out different foods, cuisines and places

NSFW HCs

She is a switch, being the top or bottom depending on her mood.

She likes slow passionate make out sessions.

She becomes an aggressive dom when she’s stressed or annoyed, wanting to use you to let her frustrations out.

She likes to add some spice when you both are competing especially if it’s video games, “the loser has to go down on the winner” or something of the like.

A huge tease, likes to edge you for a bit before letting you cum.

She is quite flexible and you both tend to make use of that especially when you are on top.

Hyeju likes a bit of exhibitionism which surprised you but you don’t have any complaints

Occasionally she feels quite smug and bratty which means depending on whether she’s being the sub or dom, she’ll either be degrading you or wants to be degraded by you.

Vivi walking in Hyeju’s hotel room and finding her getting eaten out by you wasn’t in her plans and she screamed in shock. It caused quite a ruckus and alot of explaining before things calmed down.

Now you can’t even look at the other members without feeling embarrassed even though Hyeju tells you it’s ok.

[kiss-theggoat]

Familiar

Ghostface (Billy Loomis) x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: You've been having a shameful relationship with a certain Woodsboro slasher. One night, during a particularly passionate encounter, you discover who it actually is you’ve been spending time with.

Warnings: Smut, you don’t know you’re fucking Billy so I guess elements of non-con

“Guys come on! So what if I’m a virgin, I mean it’s normal!” Randy sat on the concrete ledge, fighting for his life against the vultures that are Stu and Billy. They cackled and fist bumped, turning back towards Randy to listen to him dig himself deeper into the virginity hole.

You overheard this conversation as you walked towards the group, lunch tray in hand and backpack slung over one shoulder, making it ache. Stu and Tatum sat furthest to the right, as usual, on top of eachother, kissing and touching, Tatum sitting on his lap. Then Sydney to their left, then Billy beside her, chewing on some apple slices Syd had brought. Randy sat furthest to the right, a few feet away from Billy. You strode over, plopping down between Billy and Randy. “What’s everyone arguing about?” You asked with a smile, also silently questioning if your school chicken sandwich would give you salmonella.

Stu laughed, tossing a chocolate in his mouth. “We just figured out that ol’ stunner Randy Meeks here is a virgin.” He threw a candy towards Randy, making him swat it away and flip Stu off. You were conflicted. You could take Randy’s side and say you were too, but that’d be a lie. If you said you weren’t a virgin, then everyone would ask who you’d slept with, because you told Syd and Tatum that you were a virgin. They’d know it happened recently, and you couldn’t exactly tell them you’d been meeting with a certain ghost-faced serial killer.

You shrugged. “Me too.” With a sneer, you peeled the bun back to reveal a questionably pink looking breaded piece of chicken. “You want this?” You held the burger out to Stu, who snatched it up and began to scarf it down like he hadn’t eaten in a month, which left you with a few bland, soggy french fries.

“A-HA!” Randy pointed an accusatory finger at Billy. “Told you! Totally normal to be a virgin. Just cause you're used to seeing movies where every single teenager is having sex doesn’t mean that-“

“It’s not the movies, Spielberg.” Billy interrupted. “Most of the people I know - in this school - aren’t virgins.”

You made eye contact with Billy, just now realizing that he was staring you down, deep brown eyes burning holes into yours. Trying to play off how nervous you were around him, you rolled your eyes. “What’s the big deal, Billy? Being a virgin isn’t embarrassing.”

Billy dropped the apple slice he was eating, leaning closer to you. Something in his eyes looked right through you. It looked like he knew all of your secrets, every little thing you’ve done in the dark. You tensed and backed up, biting half of your cardboard-like fry. “What?” You asked defensively, trying to get him to back off.

He didn’t say a word for a few seconds, staring at you with the same blank expression. “You’re really a virgin, huh?”

Did he know? How could he possibly know? Did EVERYONE know? You started to panic internally, but kept it cool on the outside. “Yes! I don’t know what the big deal is. Just because I haven’t found someone yet doesn’t mean I’m a loser or something.”

“Yeah right! You’re a total loser!” Stu yelled, finishing your sandwich. “I can’t believe a hottie like you is a virgin! Maybe you and Randy can fuck, get it over with.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you. You threw a fry at him, but it missed him, unlike Tatum’s slap on the chest, “Ugh, Stu don’t be gross.” She whined.

Randy’s face was bright red. You always thought he might have a little thing for you, but you’d pretty much had your eyes on Billy ever since high school started. You were glad to be his friend, but when he started dating one of your best friends, Syd, you couldn’t help but be consumed completely with jealousy. She knew you’d had a crush on him a little bit, and still dated him. You convinced her you were over it. Girl code, y’know?

“I’m not rushing to not be a virgin. I’m fine with it.” You said matter-of-factly and ate another fry. Billy scoffed, leaning back against his hands, which earned him a glare from both you and Sydney. You had no clue why he was being so rude about this, he couldn’t know. The bell rang out, signaling both the terrible start of your Algebra class and the blissful end of this conversation. “See you guys later.” You mumbled, taking your tray with you as you left.

The alarm clock beside you read 12:36 AM. You had been reading next to your lamp at your desk for a while, procrastinating your homework long enough to where it hopefully disappeared. With a yawn and an ache behind your eyes you decided it was bedtime. As you stood up to turn your lamp off, you jumped at the sound of your phone ringing. Your body had an immediate response, like Pavlov’s dogs. A phone call late at night usually meant a visit from your favorite ghost.

You picked up the line. “Hello?” You asked, a small smile tugging at your lips as you mindlessly chewed on your fingernail.

“Hi pretty girl…” his sultry voice had you hot in your cool bedroom, cheeks turning pink. “Your blinds are closed. I thought I told you to keep those open.”

“Sorry.” You said softly. “It was hot today…” you walked towards your curtains and moved them to the side, standing in the window.

A hearty chuckle sounded from over the line. “There she is…wearing my favorite shirt…good girl…”

You looked down at the tank top you had on, pink, simple, but low cut and revealing. Perfect for bed and, apparently, Ghostface. With it, you wore a pair of plain black lounge shorts that fit loose around your thighs.

“I’m in a hurry tonight, princess so get to it.” He said quickly, “Is the window unlocked like I told you?”

You nodded, big enough for him to see from his usual spot in the yard. You decided to listen to the man, getting to work. You set the phone down for just a second, quickly taking your shirt off. You had no bra, so he had a full unobstructed view of your tits he loved so much. You picked up the phone again and heard a small groan from him. “Attagirl…”

You shimmied your shorts off your legs, pleased that you had worn panties he liked, your girliest ones, purple with a little gemstone heart on the waistband.

“It’s almost like you knew I was coming, pretty girl.”

You bit your lip, leaning in closer to the window. “Come inside already…” You whispered needily, voice almost trembling from your desperation.

One minute your yard was empty, normal. The picture of suburban bliss. The next, it was overtaken by the shadow of a brutal, ruthless killer, threatening aura filling the whole yard. He should scare you, but your body had a visceral reaction to him. Face hot, skin tingling, panties wet. You wanted him every single night like you’d never wanted anything before, and seeing him was like lighting a fire in your chest. It was borderline humiliating how bad you needed him.

You slid the window open, screen discarded weeks ago, and you waited with vibrating skin. You watched his gloved hands grip the window sill, strong arms pulling him up into your childhood bedroom. Maybe that was part of the appeal. He was so forbidden, having a secret relationship in your home with a man like him was so hot to you.

There he stood in all his glory, black boots heavy on your white rug. He was on you in seconds, hands wandering, grabbing your tits hard with one, the other pushing your panties down. “So wet already.” He growled. His voice close-up was weird, but something you’d gotten used to. You knew he was using a voice changer, it crackled very once in a while and you could hear another voice in tandem with his deep, modulated one. His real voice. You couldn’t hear it well enough to know who it was, but you liked hearing it anyway.

You nodded, breathless, backing up to your bed while pulling him at the bicep with you. You laid back, and he slid your panties off the rest of the way, slipping them into his back pocket. That made your face flame red. The fact that he wanted to keep your wet panties was insane to you, made you feel hot, made you feel wanted. It made you feel like he needed you as bad as you needed him.

“Please…” you whined, pulling on his cloak as he stepped between your legs.

“Needy, huh? Such a pretty girl shouldn’t be acting like such a slut.” He snapped, but you could hear the smirk in his voice. His gloved hands trailed up the smooth skin of your inner thighs, stopping at the apex to admire the way you looked in the low warm light of your bedroom.

He slid his glove off, something he’s never done before. You looked down quickly at his hand, but a firm grip on your jaw slammed you back down to the bed. “No peeking, princess.”

You nodded, finally feeling his skin on yours. His touch felt so much better than the rough material of his gloves. Based on the glance you got, his hands were big, but smooth. Something you didn’t expect from him. You expected rough and dirty hands, not soft and manicured fingers.

All of your pensive thoughts were scrambled when you felt his finger push inside of you, quite easily with how wet you were at this point. He groaned at the feeling of your warm insides, eager to be inside you. A second finger slid in beside the first, curling upwards against the soft spot he knew got a reaction from you. You tensed, legs spreading further with a whine at his touch.

Warmth spread over your legs and belly, up to your chest and face. His fingers squelched as he fucked them into you, curled upwards at every right moment. Your bedsheets felt so soft against your hands as you gripped onto them, eyes closed and mouth open, wanton moans escaping you. While you weren’t focused, he slid a hand underneath his cloak, palming himself through his jeans.

He grumbled something softly, something you didn’t hear.

“Huh?” You asked, that small word the only thing you could muster between moans.

“Wanna taste you.” He said louder, grinding his hips into his hand. “You're gonna be a good girl and keep your eyes shut, okay?” He asked, but you felt a threatening undertone present in his words. You nodded quickly, but whined when his fingers left you. You felt yourself clench around nothing,feeling empty without him inside you.

You shut your eyes tightly, hearing him move to the window to shut the curtain. Your hands were clammy as they pressed over your eyes, you had to make sure you wouldn’t peek. You wanted to see what he looked like, but didn’t want to end up in the paper as the newest Ghostface victim.

For a minute, you waited, then suddenly, an eruption of pleasure as you felt his mouth on you, tongue running up your clit, hands pressing your thighs down against the bed. Without even thinking about it, your hands flew down to grip his hair. He didn’t seem to mind. You tried to gather what little information you could from the feeling. He felt sweaty, but his hair was soft, a little bit longer. But that’s all you could gather. You scrunched your face to emphasize the fact that your eyes were closed.

He sucked your clit into his mouth as two large fingers pushed inside of you. You let out a loud moan, mouth hanging open and back arching up off of the bed. “Holy shit…” you moaned, tightening your grip on his hair. He groaned, squeezing your thighs tight with his bare hands, to your delight, both gloves were off. He was becoming way more comfortable with you.

You felt yourself get close, you felt tingles on your thighs and up your waist, all the way up to your arms. Your whole body felt like it was on fire, you felt so good and you couldn’t think straight. At that moment, you wanted to see him. You needed to know who he was. Desperately, you wanted to kiss him.

“I’m…I…” you whined.

“You’re gonna cum?” He asked, voice breathy with small pants. You tensed up. His voice changer wasn’t on. He sounded so familiar but you couldn’t put your finger on it. It was bugging you, but you couldn’t focus on it too long as your orgasm overtook your body, gushing over his fingers and legs trembling as a damn near shriek left your mouth. You felt like you couldn’t see, your ears were ringing and you felt like you had just been beat up. You decided to look. You had to. His voice. You knew him.

You opened your eyes to see the man you’d been fucking the last few weeks. His lips and chin glistening with your cum, face flushed and soft pants escaping his plumped lips, hair sweaty and tousled from your pulling, falling in front of those gorgeous brown eyes.

You couldn’t believe it. You stared in shock. “….B-Billy?”

[brewstersbru]

Queerplatonic Radioapple 📻 🍎,,, old men (losers) who care abt e/o

The thing about being an angel is that there are always bloodier, messier ways to do things. There’s an easy way, and there’s a fun way, and despite what they would have you believe, angels are much too bored with eternity to choose anything but the fun way anymore.

Lucifer curses whatever twisted being made him and bestowed his powers upon him- God- then backtracks in his own head, still deathly afraid of being heard and punished. Then, once he remembers that no one is listening, haven’t been for centuries, he curses them again.

Charlie is worried about Alastor. He hasn’t been acting himself these past few days. Rarely leaves his tower unless summoned, his smiles have become tight-lipped and straining. Even with the cursory attention Lucifer has paid him- busy with trying to make up for too many years in a hole- it’s not hard to see that Charlie is right, and something is wrong.

All it takes is a quick, plausibly accidental stroll outside of his rooms to tell Lucifer what it is. Charlie hadn’t asked him to snoop, but she’s nervous. Doesn’t want to lose another friend. Lucifer would do anything and everything to Fix It, and in order to get to that point he needs to know what’s wrong. So he snoops.

The pungent reek of demon blood poisoned with holy light permeates the air around Alastor’s rooms. To anyone but Lucifer it probably doesn’t smell too different, Alastor has very obviously put a lot of effort into covering the stench with rancid deer meat, and gamey sinner. Lucifer knows what a holy wound smells like, though, hell he’s not sure why he didn’t recognize it before now. Alastor’s obviously put in work to keep this a secret but it shouldn’t have worked for this long against the literal king of hell. He’s distracted, too comfortable, needs to sharpen the hell up if he has any plans of actually protecting his daughter and her passion project in any meaningful way.

Once he knows what is wrong, it’s not difficult to devise a fix. What is difficult, is coming to terms with what that will entail.

The way he sees it, there are three ways out of this situation. One, he tells Alastor he knows that he’s still hurt and offers to heal the wound through touch, which will take approximately an hour after which they never have to speak again. That one’s mostly a bust simply because Lucifer reckons Alastor won’t let him get past the first part without mauling him.

Two, he lets Alastor die of being a stubborn, pissy bastard. This one’s not really an option considering the whole reason he’s going through all of this trouble is so that Charlie will stop worrying. Killing him won’t stop the worrying, no matter how much he wishes it would.

Finally, unfortunately the only feasible plan, is to siphon the poison from the wound over time. Slowly imbuing Alastor’s soul with his own, tainted holy energy in order to heal the wound over time. If he does it right, Alastor won’t even know he was healed. The unfortunate part about this plan is that it doesn’t rid the wound from existence like a touch would, it simply transfers it from one soul to another. Lucifer will be taking the wound onto himself, where he can work on healing it naturally, as his body is not poisoned by the purity of angelic wounds. It will hurt, but it will heal. If the wound is left on Alastor, it will never heal.

Begrudging, but still determined to be as useful as possible to Charlie before he inevitably fucks everything up again, Lucifer resolves to go through with plan number three. It takes a week. Seven days of gradually increasing pain, of magicking golden stains from his coat, then being winded from using magic, of sewing himself together each night only to wake up in a pool of his own blood because the wound had grown larger while he slept.

It takes seven days, but at the end of it, Alastor is as chipper as ever, and the crease between Charlie’s brows has smoothed into something joyful. The wound now spans the length of Lucifer’s chest, wrapping around his torso near his ribs and up to his rightmost shoulder blade. Honestly, he’s not sure how Alastor survived so long like this and feels a grudging respect at the man for having pushed through.

The wound throbs, and every so often it will twinge, as if Lucifer were being cut in half- scored and carved all over again- but when he walks downstairs on the morning of the eighth day and finds Alastor cooking, Charlie seated, legs kicking happily at the island… He knows it’s worth it. Any amount of pain would be worth the sheer relief on Charlie’s face as she tracks Alastor’s every move, still looking for any irregularities. Something like pride swells within Lucifer at the knowledge that she will find none. He did that. He brought her that solace. No one will ever know, but that wasn’t the point of it.

“Good morning your majesty!” Alastor crows from the stove, he doesn’t turn to greet him. For a moment Lucifer wonders how he had known he was there, but a pair of eyes glinting in the shadows of the hallway tells him all he needs to know about that. Charlie perks and glances over at him as he’s addressed.

“Good morning, Alastor! You seem awful chipper today, feeling better?” No one will know he helped Alastor, yes, but that doesn’t mean he cant have fun with this. Just the look on his face right now- a smile, frozen, as his brows draw inward in incredulity- is worth the twinge that talking elicits.

Alastor, always the performer, recovers easily. “I’ve no idea what you mean! I have not been sick in decades, your majesty.”

Lucifer only chuckles, hiding his wince by taking a seat next to Charlie at the island. God why does it hurt so much? Why can’t he focus on anything else? Michael had torn off his fucking wings and stabbed him through the heart with blessed steel when he cast him down to hell and he can’t handle a little holy light from Adam? Eternity has made him soft. It’s fucking pathetic.

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to presume. You had Charlie worried!” He grits, trying to keep his voice even and chipper. Charlie smacks him on the arm and he has to fight off a groan. Fucking. Worthless.

“Dad! I wasn’t- I just- UGH.” She stutters, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I still can’t believe we sent you to deal with Adam alone. That never should’ve happened, Al, I’m so so so so sorr-“

Alastor cuts her off with a grin, sliding a steaming plate of eggs, bacon and toast in front of her. “No need, my dear! As you can see I’m right as rain and in one piece.” His eyes slide over to Lucifer for a moment and he hums.

“Would you like some breakfast, your majesty?” He asks, turning back to the stove. Lucifer shakes his head, then regrets it when it makes him dizzy.

“I’m alright, thank you. Had a big dinner.” He manages. Alastor hums again, and Lucifer isn’t sure whether that means he believes him or not.

Charlie finishes her meal in quiet, comfortable conversation with Alastor, some of the other hotel residents who stop in for a bite and, occasionally, Lucifer when he manages to push down the nausea enough to speak without fear of barfing all over her nice pantsuit.

She leaves with little fanfare, but she does pull Lucifer into a side hug that, while agonizing, he will cherish forever. The rest of the ‘reformees’ make their way through the kitchen for the next thirty minutes until Charlie calls everyone to the atrium for some bonding exercises. Alastor does not make any move to leave the kitchen at the announcement, so Lucifer doesn’t, either. He’s also unsure of his ability to not pass out if he stands right now.

It’s so warm in the kitchen, Alastor had the ovens on for cinnamon rolls and it smells heavenly. If Lucifer closes his eyes, he can almost imagine that Lilith is still here, that he hasn’t fucked it all up with Charlie yet. He dozes on the thick marble of the island, chest still twinging, but strangely at peace.

It’s another five minutes of warm silence before the clink of a plate beside his elbow rouses him. A warmth settles to his right.

Blinking his eyes open, Lucifer catches sight of Alastor looking at him. Through him, might be a better description of the action; his eyes rove, calculating over the planes of Lucifer’s face. Alastor isn’t frowning- he never frowns- but there’s a crease between his eyebrows. Maybe those are like wounds, too, they don’t heal they just transfer to another person. Maybe Charlie’s just transferred to him, like his wound had transferred to Lucifer.

Lucifer snorts to himself at his own little joke. The crease deepens.

“You were not at supper last night.” Alastor prompts, finally. Lucifer isn’t quite sure how that’s relevant right now.

“Yeah, and neither were you.” Check and mate. A bit of radio static pierces through the air at his quip. Lucifer smiles to himself, sitting up.

With the knowledge that he’s under scrutiny, he puts more work into affecting his usual trite joviality. Alastor simply raises a brow as he hands him a fork and gestures to the full plate in front of him. Lucifer is shocked still for a moment. Alastor made this food. He made it, and he’s giving some to Lucifer? Of his own volition? Lucifer takes a moment to rack his brain for any side effects of the siphoning that might make him act like this but the only possible explanation is the sheer adrenaline of relief, knowing you’re not dying anymore.

“You made this for me?” Lucifer asks, voice small. He can’t remember the last time someone cooked for him. Hell, he can’t remember the last time he ate anything. He doesn’t need to, not really, but it’s nice when there’s love in it. When someone takes the time to care about him in this way. Lucifer’s never found himself all too worth cooking for, and that’s most of the reason why he didn’t, in all those years spent alone since Charlie and Lilith leaving.

Alastor rolls his eyes.

“Obviously. It would be rude not to indulge, you know. So get to it!” His voice is filled with static, it takes a moment for Lucifer to parse his words. He takes the proffered fork and takes a small bite of the scrambled eggs. Father Almighty. They’re perfectly fluffy, well seasoned and just the right temperature! Lucifer can’t help the pleased sound that escapes him at the taste. He glances up at Alastor to find that his grin has turned smug. Whatever. Lucifer’s not going to lie to him.

“This is really good. Thanks.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Lucifer takes another bite before asking, “Do you want some? I know you haven’t been eating, either, and you probably need it more than me.”

Alastor’s eyes narrow and Lucifer gets the creeping feeling he’s let something slip.

“This is the second time you’ve referenced an invented affliction of mine. I would appreciate if you refrained from now on.” Alastor hisses, the air around the two of them practically sizzles with electricity.

‘Imagined’ hah! He wishes. Lucifer raises an eyebrow, he makes it too easy.

“You’re awful defensive for someone who supposedly didn’t have an affliction.” He drawls. Alastor’s eyes flicker green as he stands, abruptly.

“Put your dish in the washer when you’re done. I will see you another time.” He grits, stalking out of the room. It’s not until he leaves that Lucifer notices that he’d cleaned everything up. The sink is empty and the stove is spick and span. The only dish left is Lucifer’s plate and fork; he’d saved him a portion.

Lucifer does as told and hobbles up to his rooms with a smile on his face and a full stomach. Maybe this whole siphoning thing wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

***

This siphoning thing was such a fucking bad idea. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.

Lucifer curses to himself as he hobbles to the bathroom situated on the skywalk between his and Alastor’s rooms. His stitches had popped in the middle of one of his unfortunately timed yearly nightmares about falling. So, on top of the popped stitches, he’d scratched his arms bloody, too. Usually when he gets like this he doesn’t bother leaving his room, the cuts will heal themselves as soon as he gets to his door, anyway. But with the extra energy his body is expending on healing the Adam Wound, they just keep bleeding, sluggishly.

It’s been a couple days and the wound has been looking better, but it’s slow going. Lucifer shudders to think what would’ve happened to Alastor if he’d kept trying to live with it. Speaking of Alastor, the bastard’s been making him breakfast every day now; and if Lucifer doesn’t make it down during the hour he spends cooking, he sets aside a portion and puts it in the fridge.

Lucifer doesn’t know if this is his way of being nice, or if he’s luring him in to try and poison him one of these days. Either way, it’s always nice to be cooked for. Poison wouldn’t work on him, anyways.

There’s a pit in his stomach, growling and gnawing for something warm to satiate it- something Alastor-made- as Lucifer bleeds ichor onto the carpet. He pushes the feeling, and the resulting shame, down deep within himself. How low can he get, really? Fuck. Pining for kind gestures from a man who ostensibly wants to kill him? How far can he fucking fall.

The door to the restroom is open when he gets there, which Lucifer is all too thankful for. He pushes, with some effort, into the darkness.

A part of him considers turning on the light, but he has no issues seeing in the dark, and it seems like a lot of work to go through for no reason. With a groan, he bends down to grab the medkit from below the sink, then sits himself on the closed toilet.

With shuddering breaths, he snaps his shaking fingers, doubling over as his night shirt dissipates. “God- fuck!” He sucks a breath through his teeth.

Lucifer stays folded over for a moment, taking the time to breathe once, twice, before unfurling into a now familiar agony.

He grabs a hand towel and shoves it between his teeth to muffle any unwitting noises he might make- he’d found out the hard way that he’s a screamer a long time ago- and threads the suture needle with dental floss. He ran out of actual suture thread yesterday and, not wanting to alarm Charlie or let anything slip, hadn’t asked where he could find more. Dental floss has worked before, and it’ll work now. It just won’t be as pretty as it usually is.

Lucifer has just begun stitching himself up- letting little whines and whimpers into the hand towel tightly clenched between his teeth with each tug of the floss- when the door to the bathroom bursts open and a humming Alastor strides through the threshold. He flicks on the light- though Lucifer’s unsure why, as he doesn’t need it to see, either- and immediately makes eye contact with Lucifer. Then the hand towel clamped in his teeth. Then the giant bleeding wound on his chest. Then the eight golden scores in his arms.

His eyes widen a fraction, then narrow into a glare.

He strides up to Lucifer and grabs at his jaw, but the hold is surprisingly gentle. Alastor runs a finger along the area until it loosens enough for him to wrestle the towel from his lips.

Lucifer’s not sure if he should feel threatened or not. It’s not like Alastor can do anything to him. Not anything he hasn’t felt before, at least.

Why is the steel in his eyes so terrifying, then, though?

“Explain.”

Alastor says the word quietly, but somehow his voice seems to echo in the room. Lucifer sits tall, unwilling to be made ashamed of what he’s done. What he’s tried to do, to help.

“You never would have let me close enough to heal you through touch. You know that. And Charlie would have been devastated if you died because you were too much of an uptight prick to let other people care about you. This was the only way. I’ll heal. You wouldn’t.”

Lucifer’s voice is raspy, a little hoarse from the agony of the night. He has to clear his throat a few times during the monologue. Alastor stares at him through the entire thing, eyes burning against the side of his face. It’s silent for a while and Lucifer is acutely aware of the fact that he’s still bleeding.

“Now if you don’t mind, I have sutures to-” Alastor cuts him off with a vague scratch of radio static, “Give me the needle.”

Lucifer hesitates, so he repeats himself, enunciating each word.

“Give. Me. The. Needle.”

Lucifer does. He’s nervous for a moment- god knows why- but it’s like he’s been telling himself: Alastor physically can’t do anything to him that hasn’t already been done. He’ll be fine. Alastor pulls a stool from thin air and settles himself next to Lucifer.

He expects a sharp, focused pain. Tiny cruel little stabs done in excess to teach him a lesson about doing Alastor ‘favors’. But Alastor’s hands are warm and gentle against the golden shreds of his midsection. Each suture is measured and careful, he moves slowly through the motions and keeps a steadying hand against Lucifer’s side as he works. He does not look at him, though, entirely focused on the task at hand.

The gentleness is off-putting, and it makes something flighty bang around in Lucifer’s chest. He suddenly feels the urgent need to apologize.

“I’m sorry, Alastor. I should’ve asked but I was afraid it would take too long. I’m surprised you’re still alive now given the state the wound was in when I first transferred it.” Lucifer chuckles. Alastor does not join him. He babbles on.

“I don’t regret it, though. And I’d do it again if I needed to. I mean have you seen Charlie lately? She’s got the pep back in her step! And you, you’re up and cooking again. Everyone’s so happy you’re back in the apron.”

Alastor hums, finishing up the sutures on his chest and immediately moving to the deepest gashes on his arms. Lucifer is just about to protest- really, those ones will heal soon enough, they don’t need anything- when Alastor speaks.

“What about you?”

Lucifer cocks his head. Huh?

“What about me?” He asks.

Alastor chuckles, pressing some antiseptic into a different hand towel than the one Lucifer had been biting on and passing it over the- now sewn- cuts on his forearm. The sting barely registers. It’s so needless. It’s so wasteful.

“You speak of all of these benefits but I fail to see how any of them pertain to you. Aside from your obvious need for your daughter’s approval, of course.” He says.

That stings a little, which is strange because none of it is untrue. Of course he wants Charlie’s approval; it’s the fucking least he could do after everything he’s made her face alone.

Lucifer shrugs, pushing Alastor’s hands away when they try to tend to his other arm.

“What’s it matter? I don’t need the benefits to ‘pertain to me’, I don’t do anything for these people,” he spreads his arms around to emphasize his point, “not like you or Charlie do. Besides, I’ve been selfish enough already, don’t you think?” The gesture he makes this time is similar to before, but he points through the restroom door to the window that lines the skywalk. Moreso conveying the idea ‘see what my selfishness has already culminated into? Eternal damnation for millions of souls’. Alastor raises an eyebrow.

“And what would your daughter think of this… philosophy of yours?” His voice is low, and he reaches out to grab Lucifer’s arm back into his own grip. Still gentle, but firmer than before. Lucifer doesn’t fight him on it and his eyes light up at the success. That’s… oddly endearing for a murderer-cannibal.

Lucifer shrugs once more. He doesn’t really see the point Alastor is trying to make, he’s thought this through. He knows what he’s doing.

“Doesn’t really matter, does it? She’s never going to know and we’re going to keep it that way. She’s got a bleeding heart, probably got it from her old man,” Lucifer chuckles self-depreciatingly, “it wouldn’t do her any good.”

Alastor finishes with the last bandage- more unnecessary, needless waste on wounds that will heal tomorrow- and runs the antiseptic towel under warm water before wiping Lucifer clean of his own blood. His touch is just as light as it was before, it’s driving Lucifer insane. Why won’t he just hurt him already. He knows he’s itching for it.

“You are not what I thought you would be.” Alastor says, finally, tossing the towel into the laundry basket in the corner of the room. His eyes raise, finally, to meet Lucifer’s own shocked gaze. He can’t muster up a response; what is he supposed to say to that? Is it a good thing? Probably not. A bad thing? Well, then he doesn’t need more fuel for his ‘bad thoughts’ journal.

Thankfully, Alastor continues, “Next time, simply come talk to me. I don’t want this to happen again.” He stands, brushing imaginary dust off of his overcoat- which, now that Lucifer is paying attention, why is he still in his overcoat at three in the morning?

Lucifer snaps his fingers- now embarrassed by his own state of undress and reinvigorated by the tender touches- and rematerializes his nightshirt. Alastor levels him with a disapproving glare when he reels from the exertion.

“Now why did you go and do that? I could have gotten you a shirt, and then you wouldn’t be dizzy. Pity you’re so stubborn.” He comments, with just the slightest tinge of frustration. It thrills something in Lucifer to be able to get that reaction out of him, even in this diminished state.

“Yeah. Pity. Look, I’m not going to promise you this won’t happen again. I’m going to do what’s best for Charlie and this hotel, always.” Lucifer’s voice breaks a little at the latter end of the sentence, he can’t bring himself to meet Alastor’s eyes.

There’s silence for a moment, then a clawed finger flicks delicately at his chin, tilting his head up. Alastor sighs when he keeps his gaze low.

“Stubborn. I am not asking you not to do it- you were right, I probably wouldn’t have gone for the touch healing- I am asking you to do me the courtesy of checking first, before you act. Is that clear?”

Lucifer mulls over the words for a moment, considering his options. All in all it’s not a bad deal, and if this experience has taught him anything it’s that it’s nice to have someone in your corner, willing to help if you let them in. Charlie is in his corner, but she’s also his daughter, and it will never be her job to help him with anything for as long as he is alive. Alastor’s offering.

Lucifer nods, hesitantly.

“I can do that. Thanks.”

Alastor shakes his head before turning towards the door.

“Put some of the green tube on your chest wound every night before bed. If your arms don’t heal by tomorrow, add some there too. Don’t exert yourself. I’ll know if you pop your stitches again.”

And with that laundry list of care, he disappears into the night. Lucifer looks at the stitching on his chest, wondering if he was being serious, or if he was just bluffing about knowing.

Three cross stitches glow a neon green right next to each other in the middle of his chest “X X X”.

Ah, so that’s how. Sneaky bastard.

Still, though, Lucifer smiles all the way back to his room, and if he notices a shadow tailing him on his way there, he doesn’t say anything about it.

[olive-fics]

⸸ .Pointed Passion. ⸸

Not proof read (ofc),SFW,Nerd/Loser Ellie.

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

Ellie was a neighborhood ‘friend’ (mostly just an acquaintance to you since she was kind of weird..) You were invited over for some shitty Barbecue with your parents and Ellie’s 'dad', Joel. Ellie being the only person around your age you decided to hang out with her, even though you’d much rather just talk with some old lady in the backyard about what she saw on CBS or how her cats are doing..

You sat on Ellie's bed quietly as she showed off all of her knives, deeply explaining on which does what and how each work.

"It’s actually different because this one has these grooves- Are you even listening??” Ellie asked through the sound of shitty country music and laughter from the backyard.

The truth was,you were at first but it got tiring, real fast.

“Yeah but like.. They all look the same..Like a shaft then a blade. Duh..”

“They’re all different! Don’t you see?! The bowie knives are longer and have better grip, these switchblades are shorter and more concealable. This ones the only one with a serrated blade! Do you need me to make it any more simpler?!”

You stayed quiet,wanting to laugh at her anger and how easy she got upset over her knives but you stayed calm and silent so she didn’t stab you or something..

“Uh..and serrated means..?” You felt somewhat dumb for asking, but you knew she would tell you regardless of hating your guts right now.

“It means the teeth on the blade make it more effective at cutting through flesh, but also if it’s not sharp enough it can jam. So, depending on what I’m gonna cut, either the switchblade or the Bowie knife would be the best option. It’s not as simple as you think..”

“Mhmm..okay.. well uh..why do you have so many anyways..?”

“Why do people collect stamps? Or coins? It's the hobby I happen to have.” Ellie snapped at you making you laugh quietly..

“Alright then..and..why don’t you like my rocks??” you laughed slightly trying to ease the moment so Ellie didn’t explode.

“You’re not seriously comparing your little rock collection to my knife collection are you? Rocks don’t kill people.” Ellie snapped back.

“And stamps do..?” Your tone was teasing, referring to her last point on 'stupid' stamp collections.

“Don’t get smart with me. My collection is useful, yours is just..rocks.” Ellie mumbled,she could feel her palms getting clammy and her voice trembling in anger.

“Are you getting upset Ellie?” You laughed at her and scoffed.

“..what?! No. I’m not upset-..do I look upset..?”

“yes. Alright.. then.. I’m getting a hotdog."

You started to leave Ellie’s room to go down to the backyard to try and leave this awkward situation..

“..H-Hey! Wait for me! I want a hotdog too!”

Ellie hops off the bed and followed you after shuffling to put her knife away and regaining her composure.

“Copycat..” You laughed at her for following you.

Ellie pushed you a bit and scoffed, “Whatever. Maybe I’m just hungry..The world doesn’t revolve around you y’know?”

“Jesus, are you always an asshole? Maybe that’s why you don’t have many friends.”

Ellie pushed you out of the way snatching your hotdog plate and storming off to her room angrily.

“Okayy then.” You rolled your eyes at her and sat outside on one of the fold up chairs by the fire.

. . . 

Sitting outside with the elders made you just as bored,you couldn’t wait to go home and just sleep everything off. Getting so bored though made you doze off in your seat and take a small nap next to the fire in the crisp breeze.

Ellie couldn’t help but glance small looks at you in your sleep, how could she not.. She liked the way the fire had a soft orange glow on your face, the way your hair moved so slightly in the breeze, How your nose and cheeks were a soft pink from the air getting colder.. Ellie noticed the temperature dropping the later it got, she couldn’t leave you asleep out there in the dark so Ellie decided to use all her might and pick you up, draping you over her shoulders like a kid, trying not to wake you.

“Huh..? Dad..that you..?” You mumbled being disrupted from sleep.

"It's Ellie." Ellie whispered, her voice barely above a murmur laying you down into her bed carefully..Her hands tracing soft patterns on your arms and the marks on your body..

She covered you with a warm blanket, tucking it around your shoulders with care. The touch of her fingers against your skin sent shivers down your spine..

She glanced at your face, her heart racing as she saw the slight confusion and sleepiness in your eyes.. "You fell asleep out there, and it's freezing..I couldn't just let you freeze to death out there.. Just thought I'd make you comfy.." Ellie spoke quietly with a gentle smile.

"You're too kind." You yawned and snuggled up into her bed reaching to hold her hand gently.

Ellie froze and let everything happen, she stood there and rubbed your hand gently and getting into her bed next to you.

"You..want to watch anything..?" Ellie whispered to you, barely awake.

"mm..n..no.." You mumbled quietly, leaning into Ellie's chest and closing your eyes..

Ellie took her hands and ran then through your hair massaging your scalp gently till you were fully asleep.

"Goodnight doll."

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

okkk...Sorry I know this sucks. Ive had this in my drafts for at least 3 months now. Maybe I'll re-write it idk.. LOL

Sorry for being on a small break I've had like no ideas for fics so if you want anything specific use my Anonymous request thingy and I'll answer it if it's SFW. <3

[stardew-shitposterino]

Stardew Valley Bachelors playing Overcooked with the farmer

I played overcooked with my brother today and it gave me this idea. It’s a bit niche but who cares? I don’t ✨

Sam:

-will scream the entire time

-starts off chill, grows more and more stressed the longer you play

-“I’M THE RACOON GUY!”

-has no fucking plan whatsoever, don’t even try to explain a plan to him

-just go with the flow with him… it is all chaos anyway

-overall not the best at the game, but he is the most fun to play with out of all 6 bachelors

Sebastian:

-he is the opposite of Sam…maybe not entirely

-so he’s really strategic

-will scream the entire time as well (don’t take it personally, he’s s just very passionate about it)

-he’s the grumpy dark cat lol

-loves the very hard levels with the changing kitchens because then he can plan out how you go about it entirely. As I said, he’s a very passionate gamer

-you’ll play the levels over and over again till you have 3 stars…so buckle up 😼

Harvey:

-the last time he played any video game was when he was a child and had a Nintendo 64 🤷🏼‍♀️

-sooo,,,he’s really not good 😭

-he is a well-tempered person, but OH BROTHER

-run for the hills when he loses at video games

-such a sore loser, he’s so eager to beat the levels but he isn’t that good at coordinating his character which puts him in a very rarely-seen temper tantrum

-“WHAT THE?! I DID THE THING SO WHY ISN’T HE DOING WHAT I WANT FOR FUCK’S SAKE !?” (He never says ‘fuck’, so it means he is MAD ANGRY)

-he’s the squirrel with the nice moustache…you know why 😘

Elliott:

-he’s not really the gamer type, soooo he has no clue what he’s doing

-but surprisingly, he is not too bad

-in fact, he gets the hang of it really fast for a guy who never plays video games

-not related to the game, but he loves it when you sit in his lap while playing 🥰 he likes having you close

-since there isn’t one character that really looks like him, he’s taking the narwhal or some other sea creature,,, he just thinks they are neat 🤷🏼‍♀️

-will be so proud of you when you manage to beat a level with 3 stars

-“we make such a great team, right y/n? 😄”

Shane:

-old-school gamer, baby

-like Harvey, he started his gaming career with Nintendo 64 and Sega Genesis, but he never stopped and it became one of his main hobbies

-is a sore loser as well, so he’ll complain about fucking up…A LOT

-“WHAT ARE YOU DOING !? GIVE ME THE FUCKING ONION!!!WE ARE LOSING TIME, BABE!!!!”

-stress snacker. If you have snacks on the table, he’ll grab in the bowl and eat them all while you’re playing

-when you win a level, he’ll be way too enthusiastic…I’m talking giving you an aggressive kiss on either the lips or cheeks and being like “WOOOOHOOO WE FUCKING RULE THIS BITCH”

-plays as either the eagle or the calico cat. If there was a chicken, he’d be that lol

Alex:

-he’s one of the younger bachelors, but video games? It’s not his forté

-he was the kind of kid to play outside, he was rarely in his room doing something…so he isn’t that good 😅

-he is like your grandma who just got her first smartphone

-he doesn’t really get anything and is really just bumming about, so you carry the both of you to at least 2 stars

-he’s very competitive though; so he’ll still try to be good for you (and his ego)

-he sucks ASS sorry baby boy 😭🥹

-his favourite character is the guy with sunglasses 😎 because he looks like him

[sunshinejinx]

i finished watching buffy for the first time this week and it’s been a wild ride but something i feel genuinely surprised about is this idea that ppl have where spike falls into the dark, brooding, bad guy turned good trope. comparing him to the likes of draco, kylo ren, etc. it makes me rlly???? bc am i delusional? from season 2 onwards, spike always felt very funny to me; silly, goofy, light hearted. i mean he has a whole backstory about being a momma’s boy/terrible poet. effulgent!!! blooming onion lover?? a loser and malewife first for dru and later for buffy. even peak “evil” spike doesn’t want to go along w dru/angelus’ plan bc he likes this world too much!! n that’s long before he even has a soul! has moments where he can barely look buffy in the eye, gets tongue tied, “why haven’t you killed the slayer yet” good question adam!! maybe bc he loves the slayer!! get’s chained to a tub and let’s buffy feed him blood out of a ‘kiss the librarian’ mug. “great pumpkin’s on in 20” & can’t forget about passions!! asking joyce for the lil marshmallows for his hot cocoa while he tells her all about how dru broke his fragile little heart 😭 and and when he gets turned into a vampire so of course immediately his first thought is to travel the world w his lover + can’t forget about his mommy like !!! hello!!! are we watching the same show like he’s just a freaky little loser who luvs a girl bc duh who tf wouldn’t love buffy, she’s literally everything and he knows it too!

[captain-mj]

Vampires Part 8

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Soap sat at the table right after sunset. His vampires, Price, and now Chuy, because apparently he decided to invite himself in, were sitting with him. Chuy was wearing his outfit again, deer skull included. It made him look very unnerving. 

“So your fiance will be here soon?”

Price nodded excitedly. “Yep. She’s wonderful.”

“She?” Ghost laughed before realizing he was serious. “Ah. Damn. Seriously?”

Price frowned. “I’m bisexual.”

“I know, I just thought better of women. Even witch women.” Ghost replied, shrugging. 

Price stared at him, slightly opened mouthed. “Damn. Cold, Simon.”

“Ghost.”

“Simon. Anyway, she’ll be here shortly. Her name is Clara.” He looked so happy that Soap couldn’t help but feel happy for him. Even if he was pretty sure Price was being used. 

Alejandro hummed. “Right. Anyway.”

Rodolfo raised his hand. “I don’t really care about your fiance, I’m more worried about the hunter walking around talking about bigfoot. Can we focus on that?”

“No. you guys gotta meet my fiance.” 

“Fuck that.” Alejandro spoke up. “I agree with my lovely husband.” He kissed Rudy’s hand, looking at him with giant heart eyes. 

Ghost groaned. “Do you guys have to be so in love?”

“Loser.” 

“Lonely ass bitch.” 

Ghost frowned. “Goddamn…” 

Price hissed loudly and they all turned towards him. He looked a little flustered, as if they weren’t actually supposed to hear him. He took a deep breath. “As the eldest vampire, I am requesting you guys please meet her.” It was said with a touch of… sincerity that had been absent from Price in a wild. 

Interviewer: I’ve been meaning to ask. Ghost puts up with Price because he’s his sire. Rodolfo seems to like him. However, you don’t seem to like him. 

Alejandro: Don’t know. Guess I miss how he was. Sometimes it feels like I got the last few years of lucidity. He probably told he was four hundred years older than Ghost right?

Interviewer: I thought he said two hundred.

Alejandro: He told Rodolfo a hundred. I thought for the longest time it was just something he did, but I think he just doesn’t remember.

Interviewer: Ah. And the comment about lucidity.

Alejandro: I think he’s half insane. It happens. Mentally, being alive a long time… it makes things tiring. 

Interviewer: I noticed the way you looked away when Rodolfo asked if you regretted being turned. Do you?

Alejandro: No. Course not. I love my husband.

Interviewer: I can see your love and devotion to him. But I’m asking, do you wish you died human? 

Alejandro: Sometimes, I do. I wish Rodolfo killed me that night. However, I’d never want to make him go through the centuries alone, so I’m glad I am here with him. 

Interviewer: Thank you, Alejandro.

“Alright, sir.” Ghost mumbled. “I’ll meet Clara.” He smiled, eyes crinkling. 

Price smiled at him gratefully. “Thank you, Simon. Rodolfo, Alejandro, Gaz, I hope you all like her.”

Simon and Chuy looked at each other and shook their heads.

Gaz hummed. “Will it be super awkward?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Gaz nodded. “That sounds nice. Like chicken soup after a hard day. I’m in.” 

Interviewer: So do you regret turning into a vampire?

Gaz: How do you know I wasn’t born an energy vampire?

Interviewer: Oh, were you? That’s fascinating.

Gaz: No, I mean I was turned. Just why did you assume?

Interviewer: I mean. I just thought all vampires were turned. Who was your sire? 

Gaz: My mom when she birthed me. I lied, I was born.

Interviewer canceled the rest of the interviewer due to “broken pencils”. 

Price smiled fondly at Gaz before quickly going to get the door, answering before Clara even had the chance to knock. She giggled as he picked her up and twirled her before leading her to the kitchen. 

“Oh this is nauseating.” 

Rodolfo hit Ghost. “They’re cute.”

They kissed passionately. 

“Nevermind.” Rodolfo hissed under his breath. “Clara?”

Clara quickly pushed Price back a little and properly introduced herself. She was how described. Dark hair and nice. 

Too nice. 

Soap liked her. She shook his head and smiled at him before moving on to them. 

“Oh!” Clara said softly while staring at Ghost. “You must be Simon.”

Price flinched and looked guilty. And a tiny bit betrayed, as if he had warned her prior.

“Don’t call me that.” Ghost got up. “Okay, this is horrible. I need to leave.”

Price grabbed his shoulder and pushed him back into his seat. “A little effort.” 

“Don’t call me something stupid.”

Price sighed and plastered a smile on his face. “Ghost.” He introduced everyone there to Clara and Clara waved just a little. She didn’t look at Price much, but when she did, she did look like she liked him. Maybe not love in any of their opinions, but that’s okay. Maybe it would blossom? 

If they stayed together long enough. 

Maybe. 

The two of them stared at each other for just a second and Chuy got uncomfortable. 

“Alright. I’m gonna head out.” 

Clara frowned a little before perking up. “I’ve heard about a hunter in this area. Hope you’re doing okay and he hasn’t given you too many problems.”

Chuy faltered and shrank down when Reyes got brought up. Ghost wondered why he didn’t just have them get rid of the guy. It would be easier. 

“Well… yeah. He’s uh… Yeah…”

Clara noticed his hesitance and decided to drop it. 

They had a delightful conversation honestly. 

Price informed them all that the wedding would be that Friday. “Because of the goddess Freyja. May she bless our marriage.” He smiled, showing fangs. 

Rodolfo looked at the interviewer, clearly cringing. 

“That sounds wonderful.”

“May Clara stay here until then? We’re having the ceremony in the graveyard nearby.” Price took his hat off and held it to his chest in a pleading manner.

Collective groans occurred before they agreed. She could stay. 

Interviewer: The vampires think you’re after Price for his… uh…

Clara: His money? No. I’m rich enough actually.

Interviewer: No his… um… Dick?

Clara: It’s great, don’t get me wrong, but I’m not that artificial. I just want his heart. 

Interviewer: That’s sweet. 

Gaz put his hands on the table. “Before I ask this, I promise not to feed on anyone.”

Price nodded. “Okay.”

“Can I bring Alex?”

“That dog?” Price groaned. 

Alejandro started to look at face masks and Febreze. 

“Yes. He’s my boyfriend. You can’t tell me he’s not attractive.”

Soap nodded. “And really cool too.”

“See! And he doesn’t smell bad. He smells like cologne because he drowns himself in it before he comes here.”

“Maybe that’s the problem.”

Gaz sighed. “If he can’t come, I’m not coming.”

Price rubbed his temples. “Alright. He can come. Have him invite Laswell too.”

“At that point, why not invite the rest of the pack?” Alejandro pointed out, frowning. More out of confusion than anything else now. 

“Fair. Let’s just invite all of them. And Chuy. And Koenig if the lad can ever make it here. I heard he was coming to our area a while ago.” Price pointed out. 

Ghost hummed. “I’ll reach out to him through the ether later.”

“Fantastic idea!” Price clapped, looking very excited. “I’m getting married again!” 

Interviewer: So, why do you want to kill bigfoot so bad?

Reyes: Bigfoot took someone very dear to me. 

Interviewer: You want revenge?

Reyes: Yes. Bigfoot took… well. I shouldn’t say boyfriend. We were neighbors. Jesus. He was beautiful. He was kind. Rather generous but could set harsh boundaries if needed. I fell in love with him more every time we interacted. I watched that thing disappear from his home the same night he disappeared. 

Interviewer: And why a crossbow?

Reyes: Well, the majority of hunters use them. They’re quieter, easier to certain materials, and you can reuse arrows. Plus, a lot of creatures aren’t hurt by bullets and needed something sharp that will pierce them. 

Interviewer: Fascinating. Thank you so much. What else do you hunt?

Reyes: Well, normally I hunt and kill werewolves but since the night happened, bigfoot is all I have my eyes on. 

Interviewer: Understood. And where are your plans now?

Reyes: To break into the Scottish man’s home because I know he’s harboring monsters. 

Interviewer: How can you tell?

Reyes: Only someone who knows of monsters listens to advice from someone who’s a monster hunter. He didn’t take me seriously, so he wasn’t paranoid. 

Interviewer: That’s smart.

Reyes stayed true to his word. He caught them by surprise because the interviewer wasn’t going to interfere there. With his crossbow in hand, he aimed right at Chuy. Deer skull shining in the cryptic light of the room. 

“You bastard. I am finally getting my revenge against you.”

Chuy perked up when he came into the room. Not flinched or shrank or looked to leave. He leaned into Reyes’s aim. Soap thought he was an odd fellow. 

“Why?” Rodolfo interrupted his clearly well thought out speech. He was currently sewing and seemed a bit put off about being interrupted. Everyone else was around doing similar hobbies now that Price had stopped talking to them. Even Soap was just casually drawing. 

Reyes stumbled over it, caught off guard. “As I was about to explain.”

Clara snapped her fingers. There was no blast or light. Just a simple sound. 

Reyes swallowed thickly and shook his head. “Ah…. I was saying…” He paused again and this time frowned. His nose twitched and all the bravado left him. 

The man shook and shuddered, not fully reacting yet but clearly something… internal was happening. 

Chuy stood and rushed to grab Reyes who tried to get away from him. Soap prepared himself to watch Chuy rip the man to shreds but before Chuy could even lift his mask to uncover his mouth, Reyes shrank and contorted. His body twisted and curled, enough to drag ragged, pained groans before they transitioned into squeaks. The shirt in Chuy’s hands stayed solid but the rest dissolved and bubbled into the rest of him. And in his place stood. 

A rat. 

Well groomed and with fur as dark as Reyes’s hair. It looked soft. Almost cute. 

Chuy scooped him up immediately. “Enzo?”

The rats frantic movements to escape halted as it went still, looking at Chuy with wide rat eyes. 

Chuy slid the mask off, revealing his face to the rat who continued to stare.

“Mi corazón. I am so sorry. I was so bored with my old life, I never anticipated anyone noticing me being gone. Yes, I lived as your neighbor your years, but I never realized how you looked at me.”

Alejandro stopped playing the piano. The room was silent.

“I noticed you but you were human. I couldn’t… drag you into this world when it’s so unsafe.”

If Ghost put his hand on Soap, it wasn’t noticeable. 

“I live so long. I wanted to start new. Do something completely different. You were… new. So fun. Interesting. As you chased me, I will admit, I grew affectionate for you. Maybe that was my mistake, putting you in such danger.” Chuy gently pet the rat, watching it relax. “Mi corazón, can you understand me?”

No response. 

“That is okay. It’s best you still don’t know my affections. You should go home. Be human like you’re supposed to be.” 

Chuy gently held the rat. “My sweet Enzo.” He took a deep breath and held him out to Clara. “I appreciate what you did. But I’d like you to turn him back and erase his memories of me.” 

Clara frowned. “No.”

Chuy frowned. “What. No. You don’t get to say no, change him back.”

“I can’t. I’m not able to erase memories. Not the right kind of witch for that. If I make him human, he’ll probably kill us.”

“No, listen, I can talk to him then. Convince him to leave, he has a soft spot for me, It’ll be fine.”

Clara frowned and waved her hand, but nothing happened. “Sorry, out of juice. He’s stuck.”

Chuy stared at Enzo, the rat in his hands. 

“Look, luckily with his age, you have another few months!” She clapped happily. “Plus, well, he was only human. What’s the saying? Don’t worry about breaking them, they’ll die soon anyway? Or is it don’t worry about breaking them, they’re replaceable? You said it yourself, this world is dangerous for him. At least now, you can keep him safe in your pocket. Now, I’m going to go finish planning my wedding.”

Chuy stared at Reyes in his hands, clearly seething. He growled and Soap noticed how many teeth he had. 

“Do any of you know any other fucking witches?”

[who1ssheesh]

NSFW with s/o and squalo??👀

Squalo NSFW Headcanons

Notes: Yes. Just yes. Actually these are nastier than Xanxus ones (oh look, someone is getting comfortable here, dirtiest kinks when???? (please ask please))

Warnings: minors do not interact obviously, not proofread at all, brief mentions of anal and pegging (if you don’t like idk…..)

• Hey listen, he’s actually 10/10 and really attentive when needed

• But still feelings are a turn off for him, and I mean it. Unlike Xanxus, Squalo is a beta male loser, he can get really confused with love-bombing and all that sappy stuff. Like…..he already hates this in a regular setting, and in sex it’s a cringefest for him.

• HuGE on getting praised. You better keep going about how good he is, I think he can cim undone only from this. What an egomaniac mf

• Probably has oral fixation both giving and receiving. A thick layer of lip gloss can make him hard, no jokes. If you ever get an idea of getting your lips injected, Squalo would be interested way more that he should be. (Don’t get me wrong, he like any lips as long as they’re yours)

• Just use a lip plumper for a 100% sex, works as a terraria boss summon 💀💀💀

• If you ever suck him off under his desk while he works, Squalo will never let it down, he thinks that was hot for some reason

• He is a sucker (pun intended idk) for oral himself, can some HOURS between your legs to the point you start crying. And he still doesn’t stop

• There is a lot of “over-” with Squalo, overstimulation included. He is going to make sure no one ever can compare to him

• Actually a point for crying while having sex. Maybe you’ll notice you are becoming a little of a crybaby since your tears turn him on oh so much.

• Having passionate sex with you crying right after a nasty fight and him whispering praise and apologies on you ear is a very hot-hot scenario for Squalo, but he will never tell you this because of course

• He actually doesn’t have that much experience (especially with his kinks lol he is a bit shy with those) and because of that is nervous a bit, but exploring his preference is a nice adventure, you can tell just be the look on Squalo’s Face if he likes something a lot

• Hey hear me out…As much as he likes to fuck the brain out of you, you can…..do the same in return. Squalo actually doesn’t know he needs this, but you overstimulating him to the point of eye-rolling is a heavenly experience + idk what about you, I would cum just from seeing THAT face on him omg

• I’m pretty sure, he has some nasty kinks in his sleeve to the point he just won’t tell you. Something like a wild card idk.

• First of all, let’s get it out, he is orientation-confused.

• Squalo probs fantasized about threesome with someone (let’s say Dino, why not?), which goes both ways

• Once was way too drunk and had a thought of threesome with you and Xanxus, still twitches in horror remembering this. Just a fun fact lol

• He COULD be up for pegging, at least trying. He doesn’t like the idea of being sub at all. Squalo can like the experience actually, but still being the bottom icks with him and he will be bitching about it

• Holy shit, he is risky too much (what else being expected from someone THIS self-assured). In general, you having vibrators in public inside of you can be a common practice for you two. Also is anyone ever calls you, he makes you pick the phone and thrusts much harder into you, good like with that lol

• His cock is average in girth, but is long, can touch you soul istg

• The idea of having sex while someone watches might be also in his head?

• Not opposed to anal. Not like a kink, but like doesn’t see a difference between vaginal and anal, pick what you prefer 💀

• Unexpected, but he doesn’t like hair-pulling. Xanxus does that a lot when posted, and Squalo has very bad associations with that. But touching his scalp or massaging while he is eating you out he loves a lot

• Squalo is still a beta loser, he occasionally likes slow passionate sex, you can even say something sappy meanwhile

• Doesn’t like role-playing at all, cause likes experience and feelings be sincere, but does enjoy lingerie

• Also can be into clothed sex? Squalo goes feral seeing you disheveled and dress lifted up just in the fight spots. Or him being fully clothed while you being naked

• Thigh riding pretty please :) More of a way of you begging for his cock, seeing you desperate is hot

• He likes blood, I headcanon, cause well…shark….Squalo…

• I’m not talking about biting (well, not ONLY, cause your thighs are going to ache from his bites), im taking about period sex. Yeah I’m disgusting and???? You are too 💀💀💀

• Whisper in his ear what you want to do to his or vice versa. The things he can say to you even while being in public can turn your head around. He can also tell about some random fantasy if something triggers one

• He DOES want you to become a swordsman, maybe I’ve said that before but I don’t remember if you ever are interested, you are doomed for life. You think Squalo wants a shared hobby? lol no you nerd, he just wants to ram you into the floor right after the training session right there with your swords lying around

• If you ever have a hung body, Squalo will feel guilty, you can trick him into giving you a massage (and he’s good in this) but no guarantee his hands won’t travel into wrong places. Wink wink

• His hands deserve their own headcanons: slim, long and dexterous (he is good at tinkering with his mechanisms), also his metallic hand can be a different experience as a whole

• Can fall into a bdsm pit. He haven’t thought about it much prior, but if you’re an enjoyer, Squalo picks it up as well and has a lot of fun with this. It all started with tying you up but here we are………..

• + blindfolding added to this. You not expecting what Squalo has in mind turns him on

• Likes when you use your hands on him (interpret in any way you want 💀 but im talking about handjob mainly). Even you having your hands on his chest while riding him is good enough

• Squalo likes feminine slender hands and is a huge sucker for long nails. Scratch his back as much as you like, he doesn’t mind

• Getting back to oral fixation - he will make you suck his fingers often

• Squalo likes direct the most uncomfortable eye-contact while he thrusts into you. Or even eats you out, idk. He will grab your neck if needed, and his wild eyes make you wet tbh

• Likes choking, on himself also

• Squalo is very vocal in bed, did you expect anything else lol? He usually tries to be silent (and you can tell) but if you duck the souls out of him then holy shit is he loud

• Also likes you being loud and expressing how he makes you feel. If you are the silent type, Squalo has another type of enjoyment making you scream, no less

• Ass man but can’t get past boobs. Why take one if you can have both?? In all seriousness, he likes more your chest as a whole, collarbones infatuate him + takes another enjoyment in nipples, he will suck and nip them a lot. Even can Maggie your breast without a sexual intention, Squalo just likes them

• His nipples are sensitive btw, you can have some revenge

• Now back to ass man. You better be careful with wearing tight pants 💀 Everything that attaches to it ( → thighs for example) Squalo likes equally. Thighfucking maybe?? Question mark??

• Squalo can possibly have wicked fun spanking you and making you count every slap. Starts all over again if you stutter

• Compared to Xanxus he is much more fun tbh in a way of being adventurous and pretty trouble-free about any idea you have. If you open somehow his the most wicked kinks, you won’t find the same fucked in a head man ever again lol. Unique experience would recommend