#both charlies are also alcoholics lol

[dogaquarium]

Why are they the same. What the fuck

[maxverstappendefender]

Hi I was wondering if u can make an imagine with max verstappen where the reader is an athlete also (tennis player please 😮‍💨😮‍💨😭😭🥹🥹) and she is also from Netherlands

her and max were like in the same school or neighbors or even Victoria’s friend and her and max used to be dating since they were young teenagers but they broke up because of their careers (more like she broke up with him lol🤭) and they meet again at a gala or a wedding when they are at the top of their game her being world no.1 and many grand slams winner and him being world champion and then they have a confrontation with a lot of angst and yelling and max being heartbroken 💔💔🤌🏻🤌🏻

other part to this request: "Also about the max and athlete reader like if u can make it inspired by “call out my name” by The Weeknd 🥲"

a/n: this is such a good idea, i love some good angst. i made it a smau and also written parts (more towards the hend). i don't know much about tennis but i tried. the google translate dutch is probably bad but that's fine. hopefully i did your idea justice <3

warnings: profanity (?), alcohol

my masterlist !

The Dutch Athletes

yourusername posted on instagram!

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yourusername and that's a wrap on the lovely game of tennis, back to training for next season :)

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user PROUD TO BE DUTCH BC OF THIS LADY AND THIS LADY ONLY

liked by yourusername

landonorris you're serving! (do you get it? im so funny)

-> yourusername ty lan (the tennis jokes are never funny)

-> landonorris not even a pity laugh.

user i see a certain someone hiding in the likes

-> user 🤺🤺🤺 be gone sir

victoriaverstappen cannot wait to see you next week!

-> yourusername i miss my favourite dutch person

-> user max is punching the wall rn

user wait, im new. why is everyone hating on max verstappen here?

-> user y/n dated him a while back but they ended it in 2021 for reasons no one knows. lots of speculation but they never confirmed or denied anything. he still has loads of pictures of them on his insta but she deleted hers, probs wasn't a mutual breakup in that case. she's still good friends with lando, charles, and max's sister!

-> user he probably cheated or something

-> user they both seem happy so we shouldn't make assumptions :)

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y/nmaxupdates still no new content of our favs together so we are doing a little throwback thursday to one of y/n's posts from 2015 (she has removed the post).

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yourusername posted a story!

yourusername posted on instagram!

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yourusername vegas baby! vv thankful lando is okay. congrats on the podium charlie!

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charles_leclerc You say congrats but you wear a McLaren hat

-> yourusername only because lando invited me, not you!

user max being cropped out has me CACKLING

user we were so so close to some y/nmax snippet by her posting him but she fucking cropped him out

landonorris i'm so mad i crashed, my helmet was so sick for this race. do you think i can wear it to the clubs tonight?

-> yourusername lando istg if you wear your damn helmet anywhere tonight. you are supposed to be staying at the hotel with me anyways?

-> landonorris i don't see a doctor that will stop me from leaving. but my helmet looked sick right?

-> yourusername eh

landonorris we literally spent like 3 days together before the race and you still chose that ugly picture

danielricciardo VEGAS BABYYY. tonight we party.

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yourusername posted on instagram!

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yourusername 'VEGAS BABYYY. tonight we party.' ~daniel ricciardo (and don't worry, i didn't let lando leave the hotel looking like that)

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it had been a wonderful night so far. lando couldn't drink due to the drugs the doctors gave him so you didn't drink either out of solidarity. lando had gone off to do lando things, probably finding a way to the dj booth or socializing with whoever he can. you were just sat at this couch in the vip area. you were talking to charles for a while before he went off to do celebratory shots. you were so tired from the timezone difference, vegas compared to the netherlands was messing with your system. you had your head leaned back against the couch, your eyes were just looking at some of the drivers having a lot of fun and celebrating in one of the best party cities in the world.

you felt someone sit down next to you on the couch. you didn't know who it was at first but you quickly smelt the cologne and knew. max. you two hadn't really spoken since 2021, when you ended it. it wasn't the prettiest of breakups but we were both stupid kids and in love back then. you both should've known it wouldn't work out. you tried, though. you tried with every single thing you had in you but at the end of the day, fate would always be stronger.

"hey, y/n. haven't seen you in awhile," max finally said, breaking the silence. he sort of had seen you though, on instagram. had he missed you? every fucking day. you broke up with him though, and you seemed happier. if you were happy, he would accept that.

"sure," was all you said. that was your telltale sign that you did not want to talk. but let's be honest, max verstappen not having a conversation when he wants to sounded impossible. he wanted to fix things, he wanted to fix it all. why wouldn't you let him? "any chance we can talk?" he asked you. he wouldn't really take no for an answer. he would just talk to you while you listened, but even that would be stretching it.

you stood up from the couch, careful to not look at him. if you looked at him, you would be a goner and would do just about anything he asked you to. you were a strong person except when it came to max. "see you around," you muttered to him before leaving the vip area. you would infact not be seeing him around, not if you can avoid it. maybe not drinking was a bad idea. you had spotted lando who was busy chatting away to someone. "fuck," you whispered under your breath, realizing that the person who you had to make sure got home safely was still having a good night. you wouldn't want to cut his night short, especially when his night started bad with the race.

you felt some hands wrap around your waist and before you could protest, these hands were pushing you out this door to the club's back alley. you knew those hands though. you knew them all too well. "max, what the hell?!" you shouted at him as you felt the cool night air hit your face. it felt better than how being inside that club felt.

he knew this was probably too far. but when has 'too far' ever stopped him. he was so done with this all. 2 years of not having more than 10 words shared between you two. you two used to talk every single day, where did it all go wrong? he knew this one was his fault. he was the one who had lost you, all for racing. he gave up you for racing. he was a royal idiot for that. "i am so done with you not even talking to me!" he shouted to you. he was thanking god that you two were in an alley and not somewhere public for this.

"i don't want to talk to you," you said to him. not many people held their ground against max, but you always did. you never wanted to talk to him again, not since your breakup. you were happy and had a great life, you didn't need the mess that was max verstappen. "you never do!" he said back. that was true and you both knew it.

"you're right! i never do! because you fucked up," you shouted to him, putting your finger straight to his chest. the breakup was infact not mutual like the media made it seem. you two broke up because you were trying to support him in racing while still building a life in tennis for yourself. you could see the stress eating away at max that year and he still wouldn't let you help. even if it was help from afar. you tried to be there. he didn't even try to be there for you and your goals either.

"i know i did. believe me, i know i fucked it up," he said to you. there had been quite a few sleepless nights where his brain just wouldn't turn off. he had only been thinking about you. tonight was just his breaking point. he was done acting like he hadn't been thinking about you.

there was a moment of silence as we just looked at eachother. we had grown up a lot since we last got close like this. "so then why? just why?" you pleaded to him to just give him a real answer. 2021 had been a hard year for him and you knew that. but you were his girlfriend. you were meant to be there and help him but he wouldn't let you. he pushed you away at any chance he got. then you were alone. it was an endless cycle of you trying to help max with his stress, him pushing you away, and then you also getting lost to your own stress.

he put his hands on either side of your face. he knew he couldn't give you the answer he had given you when you asked this question 2 years ago. he couldn't say "just a tough year" because although that was a part of it, it wasn't the entire truth. and you deserved the truth. "i pushed you away before you could push me away," he said to you as he looked into your eyes. he felt like an idiot for saying that but it was the whole truth.

you gave him a slightly confused look. that had been a different answer than what you got 2 years ago. how could he even think you would push him away? you loved him so much and you had for years. you would have clung to him, even in death. "if i wouldn't have won in 2021, there was that thought that you would be gone," he admitted.

"i wouldn't have left. i wouldn't have ever done that," you quickly said. you had to say that really quickly before he spoke again. clearly your words took him aback a little. he really felt stupid for ever thinking that you would leave, let alone leave simply because he won a championship. mentally, you said 'fuck it', and just kissed him. you pulled away for a second to whisper, "je bent een idioot, max verstappen (you are an idiot, max verstappen)". then you kissed him again.

he smiled in the kiss, his hands in your hair and yours in his. your words were true, he was an idiot. he would probably have to kiss you a million times to make up for him pushing you away. and that was a price he was willing to pay. he felt you pull away and as desperately as he wanted to pull you back into him, he knew you had some more words to say.

you pulled away. "but you left. you left when it got hard and i will never put myself in that position ever again," you said to him. your lips stung with how much desire you had for max. but you had to make smart decisions, you could not get hurt again. and deep down, you knew he would leave if it got hard again. him leaving again would hurt too much. you had a good life now, he had a good life now.

he felt his heart shatter at your words. but he knew you were right that he had left when it got hard. he had taken the coward's way out. he wanted you to be happy and you seemed so happy with your life now. he couldn't take that from you. he nodded his pain away and spoke softly to you, "i hope you have nothing but happiness in life". then he walked away. he walked away but this time for your sake. he knew you wouldn't walk away from him so he walked away from you. he really did hope you had nothing but happiness in life. he could hear all about your happiness from the bits that victoria shared with him.

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y/nmaxupdates NEW CONTENT!! I REPEAT NEW CONTENT OF MAX AND Y/N!! that kiss?? oh we are SO back.

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[monzabee]

T.G.I.F – cl16

Summary: The one where writing your thesis is harder than you think, but Charles is here to help you through all of it.

Pairing: charles leclerc x reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: stress and anxiety, having to make big life decisions, alcohol consumption and a lot of it, cursing, fluff!!

Request: “Hey Bee, I hope you’re having a lush weekend🥰 I’m not sure if you’re taking requests but I can’t stop thinking about Charles Leclerc with a super down to earth gf everyone loves. But maybe she’s got some things going on and deals with it by getting really wild when she’s drunk 🤷🏼‍♀️ thank you x” + “Hi! Would you be into writing a request for Charles, where the reader is going through some difficult time in life (could be mental health struggles, something work or "big life decisions" related, up to you), and he's being very supportive and understanding, offering help as well? ❤️”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i thought these two requests went very well together and i wanted to give it a go! if you know me then you know i’m very slow at working through my requests, but rest assured i am working on them, thank you for bearing through my slow streak with me!! and of course i had to make it about academic validation/stress because i’m not gonna lie but this master’s thing is kicking my ass and i relate to the reader very much so, lol! i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

Charles would not describe you as a high-strung person, not at all. If anything, you are one of the most down to earth people he’s ever met. He can’t even count all the times you’ve talked him down from a mental spiral, and given the position of his team this season, you’ve calmed him down from his stress many many times. So, imagine his surprise when the first thing he hears from his brother when he gets off his plane is that you are in the middle of a club in Monte Carlo, refusing to leave because you want to continue having fun. While he wouldn’t call you a homebody, Charles can admit that the two of you have spent more time at home instead of going out with your friends simply because of your shared love for quiet evenings and cosy nights in. It's not that you dislike socializing; it's just that both of you find joy in the simplicity of being together at home.

But now, as Charles rushes through the lively streets of Monte Carlo, he can't help but wonder what on earth has happened to have caused you to get so drunk. The sound of pulsating music grows louder as he approaches the entrance of the club. The bouncer gives him a sceptical look as Charles flashes his VIP pass, rushing inside with determination. The scene that unfolds before him is something out of character for you. Neon lights flash, and the beat of the music reverberates through the crowded space. People dance energetically, and laughter echoes against the walls. Charles spots you in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by a group of new friends, moving to the rhythm as if the world outside this club doesn't exist, and Arthur – who is trying to reason with you to get you to leave.

Charles pushes through the crowd, feeling a mix of confusion and amusement. He finally reaches you, gently tapping your shoulder to get your attention. When you turn around, the surprise on your face is evident.

“Charlie!" you exclaim, a wide grin on your face as you prolong the end of the nickname you’ve given him, “I thought you weren’t going to be back for another week!”

He raises an eyebrow, a bemused smile playing on his lips as you proceed to wrap your arms around his neck and continue jumping up and down at the same time. Placing his hands on your either side of your hips, he attempts to calm down your movements, “Well, I wanted to come home earlier to surprise you, but imagine my surprise when I realised my girlfriend is not home.” He can’t help himself as his eyes give you a worried look as he does his best to refrain from fussing over you, “Are you okay?”

“I'm more than okay, Charlie! I'm having the time of my life. Join us!” You giggle, swaying a little on your feet.

He sighs, shaking his head. "I appreciate the enthusiasm, but Arthur looks like he's about to give up on trying to get you to leave. What's going on?"

You glance over at your brother and then back at Charles. “He's just being a worrywart. I'm perfectly fine. Besides, I made some new friends!”

Charles raises an eyebrow. "I can see that, mon ange, but shouldn’t we go back home since it’s so late?"

You nod excitedly, as you choose to ignore his question – as if you’re trying to evade talking about what’s bothering you, he realises. “They're great! We've been dancing and laughing. You should meet them!”

Charles takes a deep breath, realizing that trying to reason with you in your current state might be a bit challenging. “Alright, let me meet your new friends, and then we can talk about heading home, okay?”

You nod eagerly, dragging him into the circle of your newfound companions. Arthur shoots Charles a grateful look as if to say, good luck. And he can feel that he’ll need it in the situation. And as always, Charles is a perfect gentleman as he meets with the group of girls, who are as drunk as you. You try your best to convince him to stay for a few songs, but he gives you a pleading look, which you cannot deny, as he wraps an arm around you, guiding you toward the exit. You protest playfully, wanting the night to continue, but he manages to convince you with a promise of a cosy night in together.

The walk back home is filled with laughter and the occasional stumble from you, but Charles keeps a steady arm around you, ensuring you don't stray too far off course. He is careful with you, of course, as he tries to navigate through the dimmed streets of Monte Carlo. He takes a deep breath of relief once the two of you make it to your shared apartment, and you immediately let yourself fall onto the couch to lean against the cushions with a contented sigh, your playful demeanour still intact. Charles retrieves a glass of water for you, handing it over with a gentle smile.

“Thanks, Charlie,” you say, taking a sip and leaning back against the couch. Charles sits beside you, his gaze softening as he looks at you.

“You're welcome,” he replies, his fingers gently brushing through your hair. “Now, tell me what prompted this spontaneous night out. I thought you needed to submit the final draft for your thesis.”

The fact that your reaction is instantaneous makes Charles realise that he royally fucked up by mentioning your thesis. In hindsight, he should’ve known better to bring it up, because you have been stressing over the assignment for months. You pause mid-sip, a shadow crossing your face. Charles can almost see the weight of the unfinished thesis settling back on your shoulders. Your playful demeanor fades, replaced by a more serious expression.

“Yeah, the thesis,” you say, avoiding his gaze. “I just needed a break from it all, you know? It's been consuming me, and tonight was my way of escaping the stress for a little while.”

Charles feels a pang of guilt. He should've known better than to bring up the one thing that has been causing you so much pressure. He reaches out, gently cupping your cheek to guide your eyes back to his. “I'm sorry, mon ange. I didn't mean to remind you of that. Let's talk about it. What's been going on with the thesis? Why is it stressing you out so much?”

You sigh, leaning into his touch. “It's just... I thought I'd be further along by now. The deadline is looming, and I can't seem to get everything to come together. It's like the more I work on it, the more overwhelmed I feel.”

Charles nods in understanding, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. “You don't have to go through this alone, you know. We can figure it out together. Maybe I can help, or we can find someone who can. You don't have to carry the weight of it all by yourself.”

You look up at him, leaning into his gentle touch as you close your eyes for a second to gather your thoughts, “It’s just–” You take a frustrated breath, thinking over your words once again. “I’m supposed be able to do this, how am I supposed to do a Ph.D when I can’t even write my master’s thesis properly?”

Charles listens quietly, his gaze never leaving yours. He can sense the frustration and self-doubt in your words. Leaning in, he places a tender kiss on your forehead before speaking with a reassuring tone. “You will finish it in time,” he assures you, “and you will pass with flying colours, don’t self-sabotage now when you’re almost done with it.”

“But it’s so hard,” dragging out the words as you basically throw yourself into his arms and groan against his sweater, “I just feel like I've hit a wall, and I just don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

Charles wraps his arms around you, holding you close as you bury your face in his sweater. He strokes your back soothingly, understanding the weight of your frustration. “I know it's hard, mon ange,” he says softly, his words a comforting melody. “But hitting a wall doesn't mean you can't break through it. And as for disappointing anyone, you're not a disappointment. You're human, and everyone faces challenges.” He takes a moment think, “And I say this as someone who has hit several walls-slash-barriers.”

An unexpected laughter comes from you, and to calm yourself you take a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent of his sweater. “I just want to do well, to prove to myself and everyone else that I can handle this.”

Charles tilts your chin up, making you meet his gaze. “And you will. You're capable, smart, and resilient. This is just a temporary hurdle, not the end of the road. We'll find a way through it together.”

“Thank you for believing in me, even when I doubt myself.” You whisper, managing a small smile.

“Always, mon amour,” he replies, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “Now, let’s get you to bed, you’re going to have a killer headache tomorrow.”

[natailiatulls07]

I have to say, your Charles fics where he is/acts like a father are my favorite (the marguerite series and now the recent one) i'd love to keep seeing more ❤

Jules Bianchi x Daughter!reader

Charles Leclerc x little sister!reader

Summary - It's his home race, his family are there and his win; All through Marguerites eyes

Warning - Mention of Herve Leclerc's death, mention of alcohol

A/n - I'm back oops! Sorry I haven't posted in a month, to cut a long story short alot of shit happened in my life and I took an unexpected break lol. Also @nikfigueiredo thank you babes <333

(The blue bold text is Sky f1 commentary)

Marguerite

-

26.05.2024

The atmosphere in Ferrari hospitality was tense. Well everywhere was tense but espercially in Ferrari. Charles Leclerc was leading the Monaco Grand Prix, leading his home race.

Somewhere special to him and his loved one. He grew up on these streets and to win is something he and his late had grown up dreaming.

"There's his family watching on; Alexandra is partner, Pascale is mother and of course his adopted little sister Y/n, who is the daughter of the late Jules Bianchi."

I could feel the Sky camera panning towards me and the rest of the family but I was too stressed. Alexandra was stood beside me and I didn't need to look away from the large screen to know that she was fiddling nervously with her bracelets, much like how I was fidgeting with long strands of my hair.

I watched as the laps ticked closer to 78, one by one slowly. It was really an out of body experience. Part of me knew there was people around but I couldn't care less for them, keeping focused on Charlie.

"And for the first time in 93 years, this favoured race is won by one of their own. Charles Leclerc wins the Monaco Grand Prix to achieve his dream; Victory in his home race!"

Only then did I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. Once again the Sky camera is focused on me and Alexandra, but we don't care.

A soft touch shocks me out of my awe and whipping my head around, I see Alexandra looking at me with a excited smile.

"He did! Oh Marguerite, he did!" Her voice is surprisingly smoothing compared to the rest of hospitality. I just echo that same smile before wrapping my arms around her neck as I let out a shaky breath.

Behind Alexandra stand Pascale who captures my eyes, she has small tears on the edge of her water line. It wasn't hard to understand why she had tears in her eyes. I remember the day that we were told Herve Leclerc passed away, of course I was young but I could vividly remember it.

Pulling away from the hug, I feel a sudden surge of energy and excitement. In completely contrast to during the race, I start bouncing on my feet and laughing eagerly.

Turning to random people on our way out of the Ferrari hospitality. "Charlie won the race! His home race!" In return I would get sweet smile and laughs of joy.

-

"We can see Y/n Bianchi once again, I think she definitely rivaling Charles Leclerc in excitement right now. Not that long ago, we saw her excitedly talking to Jenson which was a funny thing to watch!"

We make it down to the track in time for the podium. Most of our trip down to the track was spent with Pascale and/or Alexandra pulling me away from restlessly talking to people about his win.

I look up at the podium, I watch as Carlos, Oscar and then Charles all make their ways to their respective steps. We watch as they are handed their trophies and as Prince Albert gives Charlie multiple thrilled hugs.

During the Monegasque national athems, I notice how his eyes floats down to us. Instantly the smiles on both mine and his face widens, finally feeling joy together. After the first athem, I join the Ferrari crew and staff in happily singing the Italian national athems.

"You know we need to get Y/n on to do something with the Sky f1 team because she seems like a sweet young lady and we know that fans her age love her!"

-

Whilst waiting for the team debriefing to finish; Me, Alexandra, Pascale, Arthur, Lorenzo and his girlfriend, Charlotte, were all given the now empty Ferrari hospitality to relax.

"Can you believe?! Oh I'm so happy for him!" Unlike everyone, I couldn't hold in my excitement and I was frantically bouncing in my spot between Charlotte and Alexandra. It didn't help that I was running on close to no sleep and some random energy drink.

Everyone just laughed shaking their heads softly. "Oh my god! We need to celebrate! Maybe even my first ever drink!?" I look over towards Pascale, she was practically like a grandmother to me.

She just laughs, giving me a knowning look before replying to me. "That's up to Charlie, don't ask me..."

"Up to me? What's up to me?" His voice comes out of no where, we all quickly turn to face the entrance and there he was stood still in racing suit.

I don't wait a second before rushing over to him and jumping into a hug, something we haven't done in a few years. "You did it! You did it!" I can feel the rumble of his laughter as his arms tighten around me. "I'm so proud of you!" I whisper gently.

Unknown to me, everyone in the room is tearing up. All so proud of Charlie but just in awe of the sweet moment between him and the most loving teenage ever.

"Also can I have my first drink tonight whilst we celebrate? Please!" With a pout on my face, I look up to his face but as soon as he shakes his head with a smirk, my pout turns into a frown and everyone around us just laughs knowingly.

-

[mythbringer-mayhem]

GODDAMNIT

man, I was just scrolling and now I'm a goddamn Raidioapple shipper what the FUCK

Ok ok-

And now I'm going to elaborate just because.

I was expecting someone out there to ship Lucifer and Alastor the second I heard Hell's Greatest Dad. I mean- two people singing/arguing over being father figures? Sounds gay to me /pos. The internet sure does love it's enemies to lovers (me included. I'm hopless lmao.)

BUT. I have specifics for this ship.

I hate it when people just look at Alastor's aromanticism/asexuallity and just go "nah. I'm just gonna do it anyways." I used to headcanon Alastor as complete aroace in the sense that he just can't feel that way for someone (this is not meant to sound like "oh he can't love anyone :( he's incapable" I mean specifically a romantic/sexual relationship.) Then fucking short ass king of hell arrives, and Alastor just IMMEDIATELY chooses violence.

I didn't think much of that besides "oh that's a little interesting," and then I stumbled across Radioapple and had to take a double take. My brain needed to figure out how that would work, like how it would start, flourish, ineract, yadda yadda-

.....so now I consider Alastor Demiromantic-

(I'm still goddamn writing jeez-)

Read on if you like random people looking wayyyyyy too much into fictional characters.

Headcanon timeeeeeeeee

When Lucifer and Alastor first meet, Alastor is surprised Lucifer doesn't know who he is. Up to this point, everyone knows about the terrifying radio demon, so it must be a little weird for someone to be completely ignorant to his existence. Especially when that person should probably know the ins and outs of what's going on- ....because he's the fucking king of hell.

This is something new for Alastor. It made him curious. When you're curious, you try to learn more right? So, Alastor starts pushing Lucifer's buttons, seeing how he reacts. On Lucifer's end, Alastor's just being a smug asshole. However his true intentions are information on the esteemed oh-so-powerful king of hell. Maybe Alastor doesn't quite know where this fascination comes from, but regardless he wants to learn more. I can picture him progressively bothering Lucifer more and more (this is his unique way of getting to know him semi-discreetly)

As well as figuring out what ticks him off, Alastor would also probably passively learn things Lucifer likes. For instance, he finds out what Lucifer's favorite alcoholic drink is or something- bare with me- Let’s say Lucifer has a rough day, and it's very clear to everyone in the hotel. While he's frustrated in his own room, he hears a knock at the door. Answering it, he finds his aforementioned favorite drink. At this point, he wouldn't know who left it. But after a while, he'd be able to figure out it's Alastor through process of elimination. (This is inspired by a comic I saw! :))

Now we've got Alastor trying to discreetly be kind to Lucifer, and Lucifer is aware without his knowledge. And Lucifer would call him out for it lmao. Slowly, they'd start acting friendlier towards each other. It would take a long, long time though. The slowest slow burn of them all. They'd hang out more, do things, kick angel ass, have friendly banter, do stuff with Charlie. Untill Alastor finally realizes that he might have a crush on Lucifer. Though, I feel he'd take a while to fully figure that out, do some soul searching, maybe go to Rosie for advice.

Then they'd confess. Or they wouldn't lol. I can totally see them going on what is essentially a date, even though they just consider it "hanging out". It would be a quiet relationship. Something you'd miss if you aren't looking for it, but it is there. They both just need someone they can rest with in my opinion.

These ideas are probably sporadic and nonsensical- but I ✨️don't care✨️ I just needed to rant about the old timey deer man and the short depressed apple gremlin.

[minkdelovely]

ptolemaea

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“i am no good nor evil, simply i am. and i have come to take what is mine.”

Nun!Alastor x Demon!Lucifer ; RadioApple ; MDNI 18+

tags/warnings: top!lucifer x bottom!alastor, alcohol consumption, accidental luci praise fic?, blasphemous debauchery, desecration of catholic imagery, smut (vague i know but if the previous tags haven’t scared you… 😂) also not a brag but i think i accidentally put my whole pussy into this idk what happened but here we are 🥂**didn’t implement tag list to avoid shocking y’all to death**

word count: 5.1k

author’s note: *natalie portman voice* i never said i was a role model. this companion piece (<- first part linked here) is dedicated to darling @hazelfoureyes who gave me courage to let my freak flag fly — please accept this as my humble offer of gratitude; it’s been an honor to workshop this idea with you 😭 totally get it if this crosses a line for some (please skip, i promise it’s okay lol) but i couldn’t be more excited to publish this. for anyone willing to join us on the yellow brick road to hell you are welcome to link arms 🙏🏻❤️‍🔥 theme inspo from ethel cain 🏚️ i also made a playlist for the party if you wanna check it out ✨

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Samhain was always a peculiar time for Lucifer.

Though he could come and go as he pleased between realms — with the exception of Heaven, of course — the thinning of the veil was the only time of year he could feel Earth from Hell. The energy of realms converging wallowed in the air heady as incense, enticing his powers to rest just under his skin. 

Or at least that’s how it felt. A not-unpleasant humming tension, aching to be released. It put him on edge, stirring him like a poker to hot coals as he fought to maintain his suave facade against the urge to succumb to the deeper power he normally held back with ease. It had never gone over well whenever Lucifer gave into the temptation… 

Except for the year he accidentally created a mound of rubber ducks. What a charming fascination that had turned out to be.

Normally he would make plans to visit with one of the other Sins or confine himself to his workshop to keep busy (use your imagination), but this year Charlie was hosting a party at the hotel. A costume party. He had no intention of dressing up (the fear that no one took him seriously enough as-is not completely unfounded), but he did find the practice endearing. Little mortals disguising themselves to hide from ghouls and demons. 

But he was Lucifer Morningstar, after all. Sinners and the like dressed up after him, not the other way around.

Exasperation pricked the king’s skin as Alastor suddenly came to mind, maintaining a perpetual state of unwelcome in Lucifer’s consciousness. He probably wouldn’t be dressing up either, the smug son-of-a-bitch. Every day is Halloween for that haunted sideshow, he thought bitterly with a laugh to himself, the sound echoing off the walls his only companion within the confines of the office — aside from the ever-present mass of ducks, of course.

The dilemma was still there when the laughter died though. Risk letting Charlie down by not dressing up and lumping himself in with Alastor by extension? Or don a costume and give the snarky demon and anyone else with a mocking eye the false impression of superiority? Lucifer groaned, running both hands through his bouffant platinum hair as he slumped forward at his desk. 

How had it come to this, needing to choose between love for his daughter or himself? Consumed by the current problem, he failed to recognize that this was an issue typically at hand, even when he lacked venom behind it. He was making good progress when it came to Charlie, but as they say, old habits die hard. There had to be a compromise somewhere…

A minute passed.

Head between his knees, his eyes shot open with the thrill of inspiration and he sprang from his chair, decision made. The familiar handsome smile graced his lips as he sauntered to his bedroom where an untouched suit awaited him in the armoire. He wasn’t the sin of Pride for nothing.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Intersecting somewhere between Halloween and New Year's Eve, the newly-added ballroom of the hotel was decorated to the gills, not a single inch of it lacking in festive flair. Angel Dust scoffed when a DJ had been suggested and happily provided a playlist for the party, which was either really smart or really crazy. Or both. Only time would tell, but so far there had been no complaints.

Sinners were piling in, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at the establishment. The cacophony of conversation, laughter, and music filled the space with a liveliness Charlie hoped would be a more permanent fixture at the hotel. She and Vaggie had taken charge of greeting everyone at the entrance of the ballroom, receiving some surprisingly sincere compliments on their Glinda and Elphaba costumes. Any derogatory laughter or smirks were being pointedly ignored, both women knowing full well that they looked incredible.

When Charlie spotted her father approaching in the crowd, her smile faltered briefly. “Dad! I thought I told you this was a costume party,” she said tentatively, looking back to give Vaggie a silent plead to keep up with the greetings before focusing her full attention on Lucifer.

“Oh, honey, you look fantastic! Pink really suits you,” he deflected, eyes and voice sparkling as he held Charlie’s arms out to admire the glittering gown, looking every bit the princess she was.

She drew back, not unkindly, when he released her and wrapped her arms around her ribs self-consciously. Groaning, “Dad…” 

It was quite impressive how she could admonish him with a single word without even meaning to. Must've gotten it from her mother, he thought absently, though Lilith wouldn’t know passive aggression if it slapped her on the ass. 

Thinking on his estranged wife, it was a true miracle how Charlie had blossomed into the compassionate and brave young woman standing before him. Lilith, never afraid to lead the charge; himself, too trepidatious to take the risk. Yet somehow their daughter seemed to embody the best of them both, reflecting parts of himself that he didn’t know where there.

He could have wept on the spot, suddenly fit to burst with affection for her — no doubt another side effect of the day — but the angel quickly refocused when he saw Charlie’s nervous expression toward him and leapt into damage control.

“Whaddya mean, I am dressed up!” he managed to answer with his usual charm. With one hand he pointed at his extended horns, a flicker of flame glowing between them adorned with his delicate serpent crown. The other hand swooped in front of his red suit with a flourish. “You’re telling me this doesn’t pass as a credible devil costume? You know, I actually held back. Thought maybe it’d be too scary for your guests if I went all out.”

If keeping his flame low and eyes neutral counted as holding back, and not just the ones in his skull. People got squeamish around him whenever the amass of eyes on his crown and wings appeared. He didn’t blame them.

Lucifer was rambling now, a nervous laugh the cherry on top of his need to save face. Though somewhat of a loophole, he had found the idea to be rather clever. Then again, he was trapped in an echo chamber of his own thoughts so most ideas naturally fell into that category. Was it really such a letdown? He could’ve bailed altogether, nerves already desperate for solitude, but he wanted to try for her. Even if it felt like two steps forward and one step back when it came to Charlie, he’d keep aiming to get it right for as long as she’d allow. 

“I actually think you look great,” Vaggie said smoothly, swooping in next to Charlie at the first break in the crowd. Lucifer would owe her for the rest of existence for the save. A debt he was more than happy to repay in whichever way pleased her best, making a mental note to discuss it later with the fellow angel. “It’s a lot better than what Alastor decided to show up in, anyhow.” The grimace on her face and in her tone was unmistakable. 

Alastor had fucked up.

It took all of Lucifer’s willpower to keep his magic in check at the delight that shot through him. The PR mess regarding what would equate to mass murder, regrettably, didn’t ping his radar. But the thought of needing to rebuild the ballroom was just taxing enough to keep the impulse at bay.

He was about to ask what Vaggie meant when Charlie stepped in, playing devil’s advocate as usual (no pun intended). What his precious, well-meaning daughter saw in that undeserving creep, he’d never understand.

“He’s just getting into the spirit! You have to admit, it’s nice to see him mingling for once, he’s usually so—”

“Grotesque?” Lucifer offered.

“Conniving?” Vaggie added.

“Reclusive!” Charlie practically screamed, earning looks from a few demons within earshot. “Look, I won’t say that what he picked out isn’t… surprising, but I’m just really happy to see him join in on the fun. He’s been enjoying himself so far, so I want you guys on best behavior, all right?” 

She said you guys but made solid eye contact with her father. Despite wanting to protest, Lucifer understood he was already off to a shaky start and conceded with a sigh, covered quickly with a debonair grin. Charlie didn’t know what a particularly big ask it was to be on best behavior tonight, but that was his burden to bear.

“Of course, sweetie, you have nothing to worry about! There are so many sinners here I doubt we’ll even run into each other.”

Famous last words.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Lucifer tried to enjoy himself, he really did. 

In the brief moments before his eyes found Alastor in the crowd, it had actually been a wonderful time. He was immediately awash in the admiration of his subjects, even managing to make some poor creature faint with a simple grin in their direction — though he had really laid on the charm with that one. Could he be blamed though? After ten millennia of habit, calling it compulsive would be an understatement. 

Moments like this were a reminder of why it was good to get out of his office every now and then. Whether it was compliments on his look, praise for the fight with Adam, or outright solicitation for sex, Lucifer drank it all in; beaming as the crowd awed at the sight of fully extended wings he could no longer keep to himself. He really was the shit, wasn’t he? Being worshipped is truly unlike anything else, but it’s something to experience, not explain. All he knew was that he adored it. 

It had been a devastatingly short-lived escape, the proverbial looming gray cloud — never too far away — returning as Lucifer’s gaze fell on Alastor. He had been scanning for the bar and stumbled on an atrocity instead. Just his luck. 

The costume was a shocking choice to be sure, one that Lucifer might have even appreciated had it been on literally anyone else. But something about it on Alastor was simply… perverse. Leaving him with the struggle of trying to decide if it was the costume that was the issue or its inhabitant.

Was it the way the habit — embellished with red stitches on each side and the Cross of Saint Peter in the center — framed Alastor’s face, ears and horns still exposed with just a tuft of bang peaking out across his forehead? The pure white wimple that glowed like a beacon against the stark black surrounding it, casting an unusual grace upon the slender neck and broad shoulders underneath? Or how the tunic flattered the swell of his chest, the taper of his thin waist accentuated by the fabric swirling about his hips that flowed down over long, lean legs?

The demon, draped languidly over the bar, was chatting with Husker; the look on their faces was the most relaxed and natural Lucifer had ever seen exchanged between the pair, borderline flirtatious. Whatever the bartender said made Alastor toss his head back with a laugh, the exuberant sound of it piercing the angel’s chest like an arrow. How he had even managed to hear it so clearly over the music and the crowd was a miracle, or perhaps curse was more accurate. Still, the easygoing look on Alastor’s face as he came down from the laugh was bewitching, accented by a boozy flush and mischievous, heavy red eyes.

Insufferable.

The Radio Demon was in top form tonight, confidence radiating from him with such a forceful ease that the king could feel it even from his place across the room. He hadn’t noticed the literal sparks flying out of the pads of his fingers until he brought his hands up to tug at the collar of his shirt, which suddenly felt too tight. Fuck.

Taking it all in, Lucifer could feel the heat rising reluctantly in his face as he was consumed by a baffling mixture of lust and loathing.

All because Alastor decided to be a blasphemous piece of shit, he seethed, scowling as he narrowed his eyes at the sinner in question. Eerie, arrogant, pompous, constant pain-in-the-ass Alastor, riling him up like this? Lucifer had considered it number one on his list of impossibilities, caught completely off-guard by the rush of desire — if he had to put a word on it — for the ghoulish prick. An impulse he had never entertained nor wanted to feel in regard to the demon, but was there all the same.

“Samhain,” Lucifer cursed under his breath. The flame between his horns intensified, eyes prickling with the threat to change color. He took a breath, remembering Charlie. 

Best behavior. 

It was about as helpful as a bandaid over a bullet wound. This had to be a joke; a cruel, tasteless joke meant to provoke him specifically. Like he hadn’t suffered enough of those already in his long, long existence.

That was the only conclusion the angel could come to from his table near the bar, practically burning alive in his chair as he watched Alastor strutting around the ballroom in between breaks from the dance floor. Lucifer really had almost set himself on fire after catching Alastor in the middle of a sultry dance move with one of the guests, a rolling of hips he didn’t think Alastor was even capable of doing, let alone inflict upon someone. It took a double shot to mellow out when he found himself wondering what it would be like to switch places with that guest, though it did little to quell the growing ache coiling low in his abdomen.

There was a lull in the music and the crowd disbursed, quickly filling the empty space around the angel. Lucifer exhaled, somewhere between a groan and a laugh. Alastor had finally managed to dip out of his line of sight — not that the demon was forcing Lucifer to look — and the reprieve couldn’t have come at a better time; the solace of his absence coming over the angel like poultice to a throbbing wound. Despite being a couple drinks in now, the tension in his body was a ticking bomb. He needed the opportunity to try and decompress before he accidentally wrought havoc upon the denizens invited here by his daughter.

For at least the tenth time he entertained the idea of going back up to his room, if only to release some of the punishing energy pulsating through him, but he wasn’t confident that he’d return. The only thing holding him back was the promise he made to Charlie to be present and well behaved. And so, he remained committed to the confinement of the table he’d been bonded to for the last hour.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

In hoping to keep as much distance as possible Lucifer had unwittingly tipped Alastor off, landing the problem he was hoping to evade right in his lap. So to speak.

He always forgot that the demon could travel through shadow until it was too late. It’s just that he didn’t care to remember, not wanting to give Alastor even the tiniest bit of permanent space in his mind. Something he was actually too oblivious to realize he was already doing; they both were.

Alastor had of course noticed when Lucifer entered the room. Whether he wanted to was another thing entirely. Though it was to be expected, what with the dregs of Hell no doubt encountering royalty for the first time. Thankfully he had been at the bar with Husker, his captive bartender providing a welcome distraction with a joke about how his drink was going to cost a few Hail Marys. There were reasons Alastor kept him around, after all, beyond the obvious. Surly as he was, Husk had the capacity to be quite funny when the mood struck. He wasn’t on the clock tonight, but he was the only one Alastor trusted to pour his drinks. 

He could feel the glare beating down on him from that moment on, focused on him wherever he went. So he laid it on, making rounds and fluffing up the guests who were all too eager to devour his attention. It had been especially fun seeing the quick shock of flame in the corner after he showed off a risqué dance move, all for his majesty’s entertainment of course. If the spotlight was going to be forced on him, why not perform? But after an hour the joke was growing stale, and so the demon came to the conclusion that he’d have to be the one to bridge the gap.

Lucifer jumped at the shock of Alastor’s melodic voice coming from behind him, transmuting the glass in his hand into a duck without meaning to with a pop; amber-colored liquor swirling around within the confines of its new shape. Lucifer couldn’t decide what pissed him off more, the jump scare or the magic trick. The not-so-secret third option being Alastor’s proximity to himself, the heat from their bodies mingling in the small space between them.  

“Fuck! You know, you’ve got a lot of nerve sneaking up on me like that. I’m liable to make it a killing offense,” Lucifer sneered, tossing a napkin over his new little creation before anyone else could notice it. “And I haven’t been admiring you. I’m just, uh, keeping an eye on things! Besides, a king shouldn’t mingle with the general population. Might give off the wrong impression.” 

Sealed with crossed arms and a smug, toothy grin, it would’ve made for a decent enough comeback had it not been for the slip up. 

A dear old friend to Alastor, the slip up.

The expression on his face sharpened with a malicious instinctual ease as an idea unfurled in his mind. Lucifer was so obviously perturbed by him, the attempt he made at concealing it was almost endearing in a pathetic way. Though he was always in a pathetic way to Alastor, dark gums revealed in his ominous smile as his scheme took shape. He leaned in low, lips nearly grazing the angel’s skin as he spoke; his ear twitched at the catch of Lucifer’s breath from the action. He was so fucking obvious.

How humiliating.

“Is that so? Well, if you’re merely killing time here, might I suggest a bit of… sport?”

Lucifer flinched, pulling his face away to glare up at him. He couldn’t be insinuating what the angel thought he was, could he? It would be a bold — deadly — move even under normal circumstances. And tonight was anything but normal. 

Something was clearly in the air for Alastor too, if the fraternizing Lucifer had witnessed for the past hour was any indication (not realizing he had been the cause). He was known to have a flirtatiousness about him when he drank, but there was a different edge to it this evening. Lucifer was beginning to wonder if the costume was fueling his narcissism. Obscene.

“Well, your majesty?” Alastor goaded, radio filter frazzling as he leered down. To Lucifer’s chagrin, bedroom eyes looked good on him, the rotten bitch. “If not, I’m more than happy to leave you to your sulking.”

That was a lie and they both knew it, the tension so charged between them the air might combust at any second. Given the king’s proneness to accidents tonight (and the literal open flame above his head) it wasn’t an impossibility. 

As they locked eyes, some silent declaration was sent, though neither had received the same message. Or perhaps they did and therein was the problem, dooming them to be forever caught in this stubborn battle of wills. 

Lucifer tried — and failed — to ignore the portion of himself that, apparently, had been eager for the opportunity. He could give in… if only to set some boundaries on who was always the winner in this pissing contest. The smoky trace of whiskey lingering on Alastor’s breath caused Lucifer’s nails to dig into the flesh of his palm, golden pinpricks of blood rising in the wake. 

A proposition now effectively ratified. 

The Body and the Blood…

How sentimental.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“Haaahh…! Mmmnn — ahh!”

“Fuck…”

It started off as a joke like so many things do when you’re scared shitless of vulnerability.

An insult here, a dare to chase it. Contemptuous eyes poorly concealing the desire simmering underneath. An angry meeting of mouths, all tongue and teeth and claws. The clattering of miscellaneous items being recklessly swiped off a table.

Glass shattering. 

More insults.

A bite to the lip drawing blood, tangled breath filling in the needy gaps awaiting any touch they could get. The first shared moan ringing in ears before scorching its way down, stoking the molten ache roiling in the gut, desperate to envelop them both and leave nothing but frayed nerves behind. 

Caressing, pulling, gripping, grinding, biting…

The party supply room was hot, air humid with sweaty musk and the steam of heaving breaths, the sounds of the party resonating on the other side of the wall. Inside were hisses through clenched teeth, groans of ecstasy; slick skin coming together then pulling away with the magnitude of storm-heavy waves crashing and receding on the shore.

The tunic covering Alastor’s torso did little to comfort him, stripped as he felt. In fact, the habit was still on too, the only piece of clothing torn from him being the wimple in order to free the expanse of his neck. Lucifer had spent quite a bit of time there, marking it well with harsh love bites and languid strokes of his forked tongue.

He was laid out beneath the angel, open mouthed and florid, vaguely coherent as his king fucked him senseless; seemingly determined to conquer the demon as wholly as possible. A task at which he was succeeding, if he hadn’t done so already; though to be fair he had never stood a chance against Lucifer. Not tonight.

Alastor hadn’t spoken a proper word in minutes, reduced to communicating through moans, groans, and sharp intakes of breath. Quite the accomplishment considering he was such an articulate fellow. 

Lucifer didn’t know it yet, but he would be haunted by the memory of seeing Alastor’s eyes roll to the back of his head once he found the pace he was currently keeping; deep and steady, just fast enough to stay ahead of the desperation that was never too far behind.

So tight…

The demon almost looked sweet, splayed out below him like this, lost in the throes of pleasure. It was a nice change considering the sneer that normally painted his face. But seeing him like this, brows knit and face flushed, the tuft of bang soaked into his forehead…

In this moment, Lucifer truly felt like a God.

He certainly looked like he could be, his demon form fully unleashed. He always felt such relief in this state. It was exhausting holding himself back, and not just today. Something he did all the time, not out of concern or ease for others, but because he had difficulty grappling with his station. Not that he’d give it up — hell no. But the burden of leadership was exactly that. Lilith had known it too, all too happy to take the reins until she wasn’t. He’d been happy to let her… until he wasn’t.

Maybe it was the melding properties of Samhain surging through him, but he could swear he felt a shifting. What good did it do for him to hide himself away? There was actually plenty of proof to the contrary. Why should he hold himself back? He was Lucifer Morningstar. Hell was his domain, and all its inhabitants needed a reminder that he was to be revered.

The Radio Demon could be their martyr.

Why else had he offered himself up like one? And the image suited him well.

“I showed the Nazareth all the kingdoms of the world before they crucified him. What do you see, Alastor?” Lucifer growled, voice thick and smug with authority. He leaned down to nip and lick at the skin of Alastor’s open jaw, still whipping his hips at a relentless pace. 

Even with eyes closed — too much effort, they were so heavy to keep open — Alastor could see him perfectly, the image of Lucifer seared into his mind. Eyes. Glowing red eyes to match the flame roaring between his fully formed horns and the apple that topped his serpent crown like a sparkling ruby. Leering, all-seeing eyes on seraphim’s wings. 

A fanged grin so self-satisfied it was like looking directly into the sun. 

A God.

It burned him to admit it.

But the wanton moan that tore through Alastor’s chest pierced the room, coming on so quickly he never stood a chance at restraining it. The words spilling from Lucifer’s mouth in deep rumbles threatened to unravel the meager hold Alastor had left on his dignity. Absent claws bit into the flesh of the demon’s thighs as the angel momentarily hitched from the way Alastor clenched around him, hot and greedy as if needing to milk him for all he was worth.

The king let out a husky laugh in response, latching onto a particularly enticing patch of Alastor’s neck where it met the shoulder; reveling again in the salty musk that coated his tongue before biting down, filling his mouth with the satisfying taste of iron.

Alastor opened his mouth in a soundless plead, his mouth and throat dry from exertion. Impossible as it seemed, tears pricked at the corner of his eyes; his painfully hard and untouched dick throbbed, weeping against his stomach and into the fabric of the tunic. It was too much… He was too full, too surrounded, too helpless.

Consuming. 

Yes, that’s what it felt like. 

He had never been on the opposite side of it before. 

And despite it all, he could feel his orgasm pooling low in his belly, balls painfully full and tight. That gnawing tension yearning for relief as Lucifer’s thick arousal punished his spongy core. Once the angel pulled away from his neck, Alastor couldn’t help but reach down to touch himself, so in need of climax he didn’t care what it took to get it.

Lucifer roared at the sight, cock twitching as his own release threatened to spill, but managed to hold it back. Delicious as this was to witness, he couldn’t let Alastor get to the finish line just yet; his pointed tail coming around to snatch the demon’s hand away as he pulled out, exhaling with a strained grunt.

The sudden absence of both sensations left Alastor to writhe in frustrated ache, practically sobbing through gritted teeth at the loss, which Lucifer mercifully tried to soothe with languid kisses and nips to the demon’s inner thigh. He wasn’t a completely unfeeling Lord, after all.

He just needed one last thing before letting them both attain the high they so desperately wanted, his eyes shifting back from radiant flame to red and yellow with a blink as he wrapped his hand around Alastor’s angry, dripping length. It wouldn’t be long now, the poor creature was so hard and wet to the touch.

Alastor cried out, regaining some semblance of himself as he unconsciously bucked into Lucifer’s unmoving hand; his mouth made a sticky sound as he swallowed hard, moisture finally returning to his parched throat. 

“Luci…fer… please — I can’t…!” Alastor practically tore the words out between heaving breaths, tears burning his skin as the shame of needing to beg deepened his rosy blush to an intense red. 

He hadn’t expected the demon to beat him to the punch, unable to fight the grin of victory painting his lips as his eyes resumed their fearsome glow. Benevolently rewarding Alastor with a few firm strokes, he relished the lewd, wet sound of it joining the chorus of his subject’s carnal whimpers. Lucifer bent down and flattened his tongue, giving a slow wide lick to Alastor’s leaking cock from base to head, finishing with an obscene slurp. How could he possibly have denied himself such a precious offering? 

A pleased hum rumbled in Lucifer’s chest when Alastor slung an arm over his face, gossamer strings of spit between his lips as he shuddered, “Oh god… fuck…”

That would work. 

Lucifer buried himself back into Alastor’s enticing heat, continuing his ministrations as his hips set a slow pace. A mewling groan spilled from the demon’s mouth, hips rolling to meet each of the angel’s thrusts. Lucifer’s peak was quickly approaching, too lost in the divine feeling of Alastor’s body surrounding him, already lamenting the thought of being finished.

“You poor thing… Did I fuck all the attitude out of you?” the angel taunted, golden blood dripping down the side of his mouth from the force of his smile.

No longer capable of holding it back, the orgasm crashed through Alastor with the force of an avalanche, heart threatening to burst through his chest; the sound of its rapid pounding nearly drowning out his own scream of rapture. He spasmed so tightly that the king had to still himself, the grip on him almost painful. Hot, thick cum shot onto the demon’s stomach and Lucifer’s hand in gratifying spurts as he stroked him through his high, desperate for every drop he could wring out.

Inspired by the mess in front of him, the angel pulled out and brought one of Alastor’s hands to him, guiding him until he felt life twitch back into the demon’s fingers. The grasp was a little too harsh, Alastor perhaps using this as a chance for revenge if the look in his eye was any indication, but it didn’t matter. Nothing could take this conquest from him. It wasn’t long before Lucifer was rutting into the demon’s hand, groaning through clenched teeth as his face twisted up before spilling himself into Alastor’s palm.

Lucifer gave himself a moment to revel in the bliss of their debauchery before cleaning them up with a snap of his fingers. He was too worn out to put more effort into it than that, and hey, got the job done, didn’t it?

They were still trying to catch their breath when they finally locked eyes, the post-coital sobriety already at work. Alastor’s ears flattened as he glared at the angel, a rare grimace on his lips.

“No one knows about this. Understood?” he threatened, the static crackling in the air around him.

“Ha! Who do you think you’re talking to? Now I know I fucked you stupid.”

Their fistfight didn’t last long, but provided a great cover for their absence when they stumbled back to the bar in desperate need of a strong drink.

So much for best behavior…

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“How did you do it by the way, the last temptation of Christ?” Alastor couldn’t believe he was asking, the bitterness clear in his voice, but he figured it might be his only chance to find out without seeming too curious.

It took Lucifer a second to process the question, an easy smile spreading across his face. “Oh what, showing Jesus the world? I just whipped out a map*.”

Insufferable.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

ps: don’t worry, alastor was prepped before getting railed lol it just happened off screen 🫠

*biblically accurate if you can believe

[laracrofted]

knee deep in the passenger seat

synopsis: nora and bradley meet again that one time. set five-ish years before baby, i’m high octane.

pairing: bradley bradshaw x nora rogers (oc)

warnings: 18+, minors and ageless blogs dni, explicit language, explicit sexual content (oral sex, semi-public sex), slight age gap (six years), alcohol consumption, vomiting. rooster is slutty (affectionate) and also, a little sad. (wc: 5.4K)

note: i wrote this in october 2022 and just never posted it anywhere lol 💙 but since it's alexa's birthday, i'm opening the vault for her special day. happy birthday, alexa, you're nora's biggest fan except for me!

tags: @theharddeck @bradshawsbitch @hangmanbrainrot @startrekfangirl2233 @kandierteveilchen @lostinwonderland314 @hangmanscoming @t-nd-rfoot @sometimesanalice @dempy @mlibbydp @bellaireland1981 @clancycucumber230 @kmc1989 @averagereader35 @eli2447 @filmflux @bethbunnyy @callsignspark @kajjaka @roosterbruiser @djs8891 @gretagerwigsmuse

An orange September moon is barely visible in the darkness, and Nora has probably overdone it.

Things… could be worse, she reasons, maybe not much worse but still.

No one’s in immediate danger of passing out in the crunch of early autumn leaves or worse, peeing on the side of the deserted middle-of-nowhere road and getting slapped in the face with a public intoxication fine. 

She’s seen worse, probably been worse. 

However, Nora must admit that on a scale of unshakable steel to blow-up man outside of a small town car dealership, she is starting to feel a bit like a day-old helium balloon with a pin-hole leak; limbs bending and sagging and dragging in strange ways. 

Nothing sounds more appealing that crumpling in a pile of sparkles and limbs until Aunt Charlie comes out to scrape her from the damp pavement and drag her home. 

Also, she might puke.

That all depends on how the last shot of Tito’s lands in her stomach and given that Nora can smell rubbing alcohol in her nostrils with every hiccuping breath, she doesn’t love her chances. 

How did you get here, Rogers? You’re a grown 24 year-old woman. 

She ponders, contemplates, does all of those good and meditative action verbs. 

She spent four whole years watching the future Academy Award winners and nepotism babies of the world do lines off a dirty bathroom counter in a shoebox Greenwich apartment. An small close-friends-and-family-members-only retirement party for a renowned Naval Caption should’ve been a breeze.

She’s an adult now. Mostly.

She is smart and more than capable and – 

“An absolute sucker for an open bar,” Nora finishes out loud and with an irritated exhale, shakes a sharp piece of gravel loose from her heel, reflecting on her earlier decision to match a six-foot-something Naval aviator drink-for-drink, shot-for-shot. Idiot. 

Who cares if said Naval aviator looked like an abandoned puppy all alone at the pool table, all big brown eyes and broad shoulders, looking all…  sexy and wounded and sad.

She should’ve known better. She does. 

Over her shoulder, Nora aims a glare at Bradley Bradshaw, who in that moment, wobbles around a No Parking sign, loses his balance, and overcorrects so sharply that he almost ends up flat on his ass in the road. 

They’re a pair of idiots, then. 

And Nora really can’t assign out all of the blame.

No one forced her to order that one drink too many that pushed her over the edge… and the one after that. 

No one held her mouth open and poured the shots down her throat.

Although…

She does have a distinct memory of when Bradley caught one of her wrists in a hand large enough to hold both of them and gently bumped the rim of the souvenir shot glass against her bottom lip until Nora smiled and opened her mouth for him, which will probably make her blush in the morning.

She reasons that Bradley can be shoulder a little bit of the blame. He does have the shoulders for it. 

Since Bradley is also providing her only reprieve for the night – a safe haven, far from the oldies music and probing Is being a filmmaker really a career nowadays? questions –  Nora has already forgiven him in her mind.

Cars are parked all along the side of the road, late arrivals and overflow who couldn’t squeeze in the small parking lot in front of the dive, and as Nora weaves between the Go Navy! and Proud Veteran bumper stickers, a faded blue Bronco appears in the not-so-far distance, shining in the sparse moonlight like a beacon.

A beacon of hope… and air conditioning. 

She looks over her shoulder again to confirm that Bradley hasn’t collapsed and is still making good progress. He is swaying a little, like an anchored boat on a passing wake, but seems generally fine.

She makes a run for it. 

Under her feet, the grass is still wet from a recent storm and slippery, but Nora only slips twice. And after the second time almost causes her to lose a heel in the waterlogged ground, she goes barefoot for the last stretch, heels dangling from a bent finger, shimmering in the blue darkness like miniature disco balls. 

A beep-beep echoes across the humid air, damp enough to feel like a cloying fog, as Bradley unlocks the Bronco, and Nora calls, “Shotgun!” over her shoulder and smiling vaguely at the disembodied laugh that comes from the darkness, all but sags onto the seat.

She resists the urge to curl up like a cat and doze, like the Bronco has a built-in memory foam mattress and not a not even that comfortable brown leather bench seat. 

She leans back, relaxed, and lets everything slip from her slightly sweat-damp grip, dropping her purse and shoes, not bothering to check where anything ends up. She’ll worry about it later.

Right now, Nora is just grateful to sit a seat with a back for once.  

A door opens, and Nora cracks one eye open for pure self-preservation, checking to make sure it is Bradley and not some sort of Friday the 13th slasher. 

“I was promised AC,” Nora complains, pushing damp strands of pale blonde from her sweaty forehead, cursing her decision to ever get bangs and also not to grow them out in the colder months. 

“Give me a second, Rogers.” 

But Bradley almost immediately reaches over and cranks the ignition.

Cool air blasts from the vents, and Nora could actually cry.

Basking, Nora doesn’t pay attention as Bradley rustles around outside, shrugging off his suit jacket and tossing it into the back, and hauls himself one-handed into the front. She’s serene and blessedly, rapidly cooling down. 

For a moment, Nora and Bradley are both silent, simply luxuriating. 

She’s the one to break the silence.

“God, I think I want to marry the person who invented modern air conditioning… or like, offer them  mind-blowing sex.” 

“Want to have sex?” 

 “No, I said – ” 

“No, I heard you.” His grin gleams in the greenish light from the radio, turned all the way down on some local station. “My question wasn’t related. Mind-blowing?” 

She blinks in his general direction, and in the dim glow, Nora can make him out well enough. His white dress shirt is gone, probably in the back with his jacket, leaving him in an undershirt that is straining over his slightly sunburned biceps. 

He looks perfectly casual.

Like Bradley’s asked to grab some drunk food.

“Rewind. Did you just ask me to have sex with you like…?” Nora wracks her brain for an apt comparison. “Like, we ran into each other at a coffee shop and you’re asking if I want to share a table with you? We’re both here, so might as well?” 

He chokes on a laugh, scrubbing a hand over the bottom half of his face to hide a shit-eating grin. Nora narrows her eyes, and Bradley makes an aggressive throat clearing noise.

“Yes.” 

A pause.

“No.”

Another longer pause.

“Is there a right answer to this question?” 

Jesus Christ. 

Nora exhales a disbelieving laugh. And then, entertains the idea. 

It isn’t a great one. For several reasons.

Reason 1: Aunt Charlie was good friends with Carole Bradshaw, which is the only reason Nora even knows him. Charlie watched him grow up and so, carries a certain fondness for him. 

A fondness that might be more than slightly tainted if lovable Bradley Bradshaw has sweaty and depraved sex with her niece in a parked car, outside of a retirement party where Charlie herself is currently in attendance. 

(He didn’t explicitly mention depraved, but Nora kind of gets that vibe from him.)

Reason 2: See above.

But… Nora considers, What if Charlie didn’t find out? What then?

He’s a good looking man, she can’t deny that. Humidity curls his hair around his ears, and Bradley’s got these puppy dog eyes that promise all kinds of trouble, a sharp edge of mirth underneath. 

He looks… good.

He’s what? Six years older than her? That’s nothing.

A guy like him… could probably snap her in half, all broad shoulders and massive arms. 

She’s always had a thing for arms.

And Nora hasn’t gotten laid in a while. She’s been busy, assisting and pitching and writing and running around Manhattan for drinks and meetings and interviews and – 

It’s a bad idea.

It’s not a good idea.

It’s… not the worst idea.

“Sure, yeah,” Nora finds herself saying. “We could have sex.” 

This all really started when Aunt Charlie got the invite in the mail a month ago.

As a former Top Gun instructor and current Department of Defense superstar, Charlie Blackwood got a lot of invites. She got invited to weddings, baby showers, medal ceremonies, and lately, lots and lots of retirement parties.

She declined most of them, but Nora knew Charlie had a soft spot for Top Gun graduates who’d been in her class and gone on to have long and prosperous careers with Naval Aviation. 

And when Mr. Charlotte Blackwood couldn’t make it to a party for one reason or another and Nora was free for the weekend, she was the designated back-up plus one.

An opportunity to get all dressed up for a night in some glamorous Washington D.C. ballroom, sipping free drinks and chatting up some silver fox Naval Admiral’s cute, much more age appropriate nephew? Sign her up.

She might not have been quite so eager if Charlie had told Nora earlier that Captain Leonard Wolfe had opted for a more... down-to-earth approach. 

It was a classic dive, raucous, intimate, and covered in a film of grease and grim that made Nora regard the slight cloudiness of the Dirty Shirley with suspicion. A free drink is a free drink. She shrugged and accepted the drink with a closed lip smile, plucking a cherry from the carbonation and popping it into her mouth. 

Chewing, Nora looked for a quick getaway and instead, found a familiar face.

Dressed in a respectable shirt and well-fitting slacks, golden from his latest deployment, Bradley Bradshaw was all alone next to the pool table, scraping chalk across the cue with a vacant expression, looking miles from here. 

Nora sidled over and leaned against the pool table. 

“Bradley Bradshaw,” Nora said coolly, mixing in the grenadine with a stirring straw and sipping from the end. Pure saccharine sweetness… and a very prominent aftertaste of bottom-shelf vodka. “Look at you in your dress shoes.” She playfully nudged the side of his shiny black shoe. “I haven’t seen you at one of these in a while. You been in hiding or just hiding from me?” 

He stiffened, ever so slightly, but Bradley inclined his head with a smile.

“Never, Rogers,” Bradley replied, holding his hand over his heart like an oath. “Who would hide from someone who looks as beautiful as you do in that dress?” His gaze might as well have been a caress, drinking in the silver of the dress. 

She did a small spin, even though Bradley didn’t ask, shimmering in the dim light of the dive bar like an errant disco ball, a shooting star that’s wandered down to the surface and gotten lost. 

“Just between us…” Nora leaned in. “I’m worried I’m a little overdressed.” 

His smile widened. “You definitely are. You kind of look like an asshole.” 

She gaped at him, and Bradley laughed at her surprised expression, but something about the sound was strangely hollow, a copy of a copy.

He sounded off, and Nora frowned.

“You okay?” Nora asked slowly, not wanting to cross a line or impose. He could’ve been waiting for someone when Nora came over. “I can leave you alone, go find some hot young Lieutenant who’ll fetch my drinks all night.”

She was rewarded with a small smile, and Bradley shook his head, almost too quickly. “Stay. Sorry, I’m just… I think I need another drink in me.” His gaze dropped. “You play pool?” 

She shrugged. “I prefer darts.” 

“Well, I don’t,” Bradley said simply, short and almost rude. He cushioned the words with a crooked grin, looking more like the Bradley Bradshaw that Nora knew. “Rack ‘em while I get us another round? What’re you drinking, darling?” 

“Dirty Shirley.” He made a pained face. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not coming over there and ordering it for you. A grown man like you can order a Dirty Shirley for a woman at a bar.”

“You might be scarier than my old CO.” And when Nora raised her brows, Bradley surrendered with open palms. “I’m going, I’m going.” 

His dark eyes shine with amusement as Bradley looks at Nora.

“Don’t pull a muscle with all that enthusiasm, darling.” 

She resists the urge to smack him. “You’re unbelievable.” 

“What?” And for his part, Bradley does look genuinely confused. 

“Oh my god, Bradley!” Nora groans, crossing her arms over her chest, which has the effect of dragging an already low neckline even lower. His eyes follow not so subtly. “You are the one who was like, Let’s have sex to kill time or whatever, and all of the sudden, I’m expected to what? Set the mood?” 

Her exasperation sweetens into something simpering and mocking, and Nora bats her lashes. “Touch me with your big, strong, capable Naval aviator hands, Lieutenant Bradshaw, or I’ll – ”  

Neither of them find out what Nora would do.

He slides across the seat in a heartbeat and swallows her words with an enthusiastic kiss, crowding her back against the window, warm against the bare skin exposed in the low back of the dress. 

Before Nora can do much more than pant into his mouth, Bradley is pulling her from the seat with his strong hands and sets her down in his lap, grasping her waist in a firm grip, holding her against him.

His shirt is soft to the touch, and Nora smooths her palms over his shoulders, over his arms, caught and confined in the fabric. Impatient, she pulls at the hem, and Bradley is more than happy to take the hint. 

Getting him out of the shirt probably would go a whole lot smoother if Bradley wasn’t so tall and Nora wasn’t so on top of him, but after some determined fumbling and awkward maneuvering – Bradley smacks the ceiling twice and nearly knocks her out of his lap once – he manages to wrestle it onto the dash, cursing the whole way there.

Nora giggles. 

She’s still giggling when Bradley catches her chin, gaze warm with mirth and want, and pulls her into another long and slightly sloppy kiss. He is hard underneath her, and Nora feels lighter than air with a hand on the back of his neck, making encouraging sounds against his mouth.

He reaches under the dress, skimming a rough palm over the back of her exposed thigh, and Nora pulls back.

“Hold on,” she says, breathless.

She nods pointedly at the windshield.

He needs a second to catch up. 

“It’s dark out,” Bradley reassures, smoothing his thumb up and down the side of her neck. “And I parked down the street. No one’s gonna see.” 

Fingers curl around her thigh, easing her back down on his – 

She shakes her head, firm and unmoving. “Someone could have their flashlight on on their way to their car. And if Charlie has to hear about this from some drunk Admiral, I will die of embarrassment and bring you down with me.” A cool smirk. “What else’ve you got for me, Bradshaw?” 

“Right…” Bradley pauses. “Back seat?” 

They’d only made it through a few games before some older Naval officers – around the same age as Captain Wolfe – claimed the next one, but by then, Nora and Bradley were already several drinks in. 

Having an open bar meant that drinks became both a prize and a forfeit. 

She went in search of water – because, yeah, wow – while Bradley slumped on the nearest stool and watched the older Naval aviators set up their game.

And when Nora returned, waters in hand, Bradley had that same look on his face, a strange forlorn expression.

He glanced over as Nora sat down, and asked suddenly, “Wanna know why I stopped going to these?”

Honestly, all Nora really wanted was to drink some water and maybe check to see if the kitchen serves nachos and not puke tonight. 

She gulped down most of the water in one long pull and wiped the back of her across her mouth, probably smearing lip gloss all across her chin and mouth. It was all she could do not to let out of undignified cough. 

Another glass sat between them, but Bradley didn’t move to pick it up.

Sensing that Bradley was waiting for an answer, Nora offered a quick, “Sure, Bradshaw,” and slowly pushed at the water glass, feeling a little like a cat about to push it from the surface, until Bradley’s hand closed around it.

Between the music and the loud buzz of conversation, Bradley’s sigh was barely audible. He started, slowly, “Mom and I used to get invited to shit like this all the time when I was a kid, and starting out, I loved it. It was cool, getting to be around all these cool older guys who’re actual fighter pilots and have so many cool stories. It wasn’t really my mom’s scene – not without my dad, but I’d go with…” 

A pained expression flashed across his face, a mixture of anger and hatred and hurt, raw and deep and jagged, and Nora could fill in the blanks. 

He’d gone with Maverick. 

He continued, “But after a while, I realized I only got invited because I was a Gold Star kid. People felt sorry for me. Look at the sad kid with the dead dad. Made me feel like shit, you know? And now, I’m a Lieutenant. I might not’ve gone to the Academy like Hangman – ” 

He spat out the name with such venom that Nora’s lips parted automatically to ask who that was, but Bradley was on a roll now. 

“But I ended up in the same damn place as them. I’ve earned my spot.” 

An abrupt belch jolted him, and Bradley drained the water in a long continuous swallow that made Nora raise her eyebrows. 

“Guys like them,” Bradley nodded at the men who were now in the middle of nine ball game, gaze unfocused. “Guys like Wolfman look at me, and it’s like they’re looking at a fucking ghost. It’s almost worse.” His voice broke ever so slightly.

She pretended not to notice, sparing him, and Nora rubbed at a pinched spot in her chest.

She used to love it when she was younger, preening at every you look so much like your mom, scouring the scrapbooks and seeing a familiar smile on a face that wasn’t her own on the wrinkled pages. 

After Mom died, Nora kind of hated her own reflection, hated the uncanny feeling that someone was looking at her and not seeing her but a copy of a copy of someone else. 

She’s made peace with it since then. Eventually. 

And in a less inebriated state, Nora might’ve been able to articulate something, anything that might be a half-decent bit of wisdom, paraphrased from years and years of painful self-awareness and therapy. 

Right now, all Nora could do was reach for his nearest shoulder and give him a good solid poke, all muscle, and say, all gentleness, “You don’t feel like a ghost to me, Bradshaw.” 

Smiling sadly, Nora eased back, but Bradley caught her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, a silent thank you that couldn’t push through the emotion swimming in his sad eyes. 

A beat passed.

And Bradley stood abruptly, nearly knocking his stool over. 

“You want to do a shot? Wolfman’s buying.”  

When Nora nods, Bradley springs into action.

Guiding Nora over the seat, a careful hand resting on the nape of her neck to keep her from hitting the ceiling. Stepping out, then back in because Bradley is far too tall and wide to clamber over the bench. 

He is well-practiced, probably from doing this before.  

She is alone for a split second, bathed in the sound of the chirping crickets and her own shallow breaths. Fabric brushes against her back, resting on something that might be his shirt. 

Bradley pops the door open and is on her again, quick as lightning, and Nora doesn’t care anymore. She welcomes the weight of him, the press of his torso against hers, the hunger in his grasping hands. 

He’s a damn good kisser, coaxing her lips open and slipping his tongue into her mouth again, nipping at her bottom lip. He cups her face with large hands, scraping a thumb across her pulse point, and Nora sinks lower and lower into the heat, all fuzzy around the edges from alcohol and him. 

All she can think is more more more, now now now, and Bradley reads her mind. 

He breaks from the kiss, abruptly dropping his mouth to her shoulder and pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the freckle there. He sounds half-asleep, voice low and thick with desire. 

Bradley mutters, “Sit up,” against her throat and slides onto his knees. 

That can’t be comfortable, Nora thinks absently. He is super tall, which also means long legs, and as spacious as the Bronco is – 

Nora lets out an embarrassing half-shriek when Bradley tugs her forward without warning, hooking her knees over his shoulders, settling between her parted thighs with a grin. 

She is still wearing her dress, rustling and glittering in the inky darkness with every breath, but Bradley doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to get her naked. 

“Eating me out in the backseat of your car when I already agreed to have sex with you?” Nora jokes, a little breathless, a little embarrassed by that. Warmth flutters in the pit of her stomach at her own words, at the implication of it. Has it really been that long? “Can’t decide if you’re a gentleman or a slut.” 

Teeth gleam in the dark, and Bradley sucks a bruise into the inside of her thigh, blowing a cool breath over the spot. She holds back a shiver. 

“Who said I’m down here to eat you out? Kinda presumptuous of you, Rogers.” 

She rolls her eyes and smacks at his shoulder, catching the broad edge with an open palm. It probably hurts her more than him, and Bradley shakes with restrained laughter, which only makes her want to smack him again. Makes her want to tell him to get up or get on with it sometime tonight.  

She has a comeback, a good one, but Bradley doesn’t even give her the chance to get it out. He leans in and presses his mouth between her thighs, running his tongue against the seam of her through the underwear. 

Nora lets out something between a cough and a gasp, throwing her head back against the seat, arching into him. She might’ve choked on the breath, had anything still remained in her lungs to choke on. 

Everything flees the moment that Bradley finds the growing wet spot in the center of the fabric with his tongue. It’s barely anything, a tease, and yet, Nora is already quivering in his arms. 

“You okay up there?” 

His voice is unbearably smug, and Nora is having a little trouble remembering that really great comeback from earlier.

“It’s been… I’ve been… Shut the fuck up.” 

Hot breath ghosts across the damp strip of fabric as Bradley laughs, and on instinct, Nora jolts away from him. He keeps her there with a flex of his biceps, reaching up to tap a placating palm against her stomach, then down to find the edge of her underwear. 

He shimmies them halfway down her thighs, then realizes the obvious issue with this plan. It’ll be impossible to get them off in this position. There isn’t enough room. 

A suspiciously long pause, and Nora feels the elastic pull tight against her thigh.

“Rip my underwear,” Nora threatens, one hand grabbing at his hair in warning, “and I’m getting out of this car.”

“S’not what I was doing,” Bradley insists, almost petulant, but instantly, Nora feels the pressure ease. 

Curls brush the sensitive skin of her inner thighs as Bradley ducks back into position, abandoning her underwear around her knees. He winds his arms back around her legs, flexing his muscles, and with a bend of his wrist, skims through the wetness there, brushing against her clit with his thumb.

“Fuck,” Bradley swears. “You’re so wet.” 

And in hindsight, maybe Nora spent too much time wondering about the slight possibility that Charlie could find out about this and not enough time worrying about the very real possibility that Charlie would probably call Bradley a well-mannered young man in the future, and Nora would have to look her in the eye. 

When did Charlie want to leave again?

Nora cranes her neck, aiming for casual and can almost see the…

“Are you trying to check the time right now?” 

Fuck. She shuts her eyes tight.

“What? No. Do you always talk this much?” 

He must realize that Nora was, in fact, trying to check the time because Bradley dives back in without hesitation – and without mercy, licking a long stripe up her cunt and easing his middle finger into her at the same time. He licks her again, tongue flat and searching, spreading her open, circling her clit with sloppy enthusiasm. 

“Oh my god,” Nora murmurs breathlessly, winding her fingers tighter in his hair, starting to tremble around him. “Bradley.” 

It’s the most uncomfortable position. Her legs burn, bent awkwardly over his too-big shoulders, and Nora can feel the muscles straining, threatening to cramp and spasm, but Bradley is eating her out with abandon. 

And Nora is so so close. It’s dizzying. 

“What do you need?” Bradley asks, raising his head, mouth slick with saliva and her, eyes bright. “You need me to…” 

She shushes him impatiently, and Bradley laughs. 

He sinks back down, running his tongue back and forth in a pattern that makes her see stars, and Nora is gone, coming with a gasping moan. 

She goes boneless in the aftermath, slumping sideways on the seat, leaving Bradley to maneuver out of the trap of her legs and underwear without any help. He manages well enough, keeping the quiet cursing to a minimum as Nora stares at the ceiling and catches her breath. 

He reaches into the front seat, popping open the glove compartment and rustling around. She closes her eyes, reopening them when Bradley tugs her panties all the way off her legs, now with the room to do so. He tosses the fabric to the side, banishing them to the same bottomless pit as her heels. 

“You decide yet?” Bradley asks. He wipes at his wet mouth with the back of his forearm, setting down his hand right next to her head and leaning in, and Nora can see the slight tremble to the muscle. 

“I already said I’d have sex with you, asshole. Give me a second.” 

He barks a laugh. “Not that. The other thing. Am I gentleman or a slut?” 

“Hmmm…” Nora spies the square of plastic clutched in his fist, narrowing her eyes in the dark to make it out. Her voice is a little hoarse. She could use another glass of water right about now. “Do you keep a box of condoms in your glove compartment?” 

“Always good to be prepared.” 

“Slut. Hands down.” 

His amused exhale warms her neck as Bradley nudges her head to the side, pressing kisses in a path down her exposed throat. He pauses for too long again, as if considering the risk and reward of sucking a bruise into her skin, and Nora digs her nails into his bicep in warning. 

“If I’m such a slut,” Bradley whispers against her throat, nosing under her chin to get her to tilt her head back further, “what does that make you, huh?” 

She smirks. “Charitable.” 

He freezes in place, breath puffing against her neck, and Nora has to hold back her laugh.

Bradley spots the wide grin on her face, the mischief dancing in her blue eyes, and laughs. Low, in a way that promises retribution. “Charitable… Fuck you, Rogers.” 

“Well, yeah. Did I come all the way back here for nothing?” 

He shakes his head, laughing under his breath, and unbuckles his belt, freeing himself from his boxers to slip the condom on. 

“Wait,” Nora says, tapping at his shoulder. He freezes in place. “My neck is cramping. Let me get on top.” 

Nora sinks down on him, head dropping back at the sensation. 

Time blurs from there, a languid hue of stuttered breaths and soft, drawn-out moans and murmured words. Her dress is pooled around her waist, and Bradley turns his attention to her breasts, first with his fingers, then with his mouth.

She alternates between grasping the head rest and the strong line of his shoulder, rocking down on him. 

“You feel so good, so fucking good,” Bradley moans. somewhere in the middle, brushing sweat-dampened strands out of her face. “Does that feel good?” He presses an open-mouthed kiss to the curve of her shoulder, then behind her ear, licks a long stripe across her skin. 

Half-drowned in sensation, Nora can do nothing but nod, slack-jawed, giving her answers in the form of kisses pressed to the underside of his jaw, fingernails lightly scraping across his bulging forearms. And in the interlacing of her fingers between his, right at the end, when Nora comes undone again and Bradley follows her over the edge, spilling into the condom. 

He pulls out, sprawling across the back seat, and Nora follows him down, resting her head in the crook of his arm. They are still breathing heavily, coming down from their highs when Nora’s stomach gives a twisted pinch.

“What’d you think? Better than someone getting a drink for you?” 

“I think I’m gonna throw up.” 

“Well… You seemed to be enjoying yourself a minute ago.”

“No, Bradley,” Nora says, sitting upright, which makes her vision cartwheel. “The Tito’s.” 

His eyes grow wide in understanding, and Bradley flings the door open, just in time for Nora to lean out and vomit over the side of the Bronco. His loud laugh is cut short, and then Nora hears a stuttered “Oh god,” and the unmistakable sound of the other door opening and liquid hitting the pavement. 

And as Nora pulls up the straps of her dress and wiped her mouth, she spots her shoe under the passenger’s side seat. “You know, Bradley.” She leans forward and fishes it out, holding it up to the light. “I think I should probably stop going to these parties too.” 

He offers her a thumbs-up over his shoulder, then throws up again. 

Later, once Nora has cleaned up and tugged her clothes back into place and accepted the plastic water bottle that Bradley tracked down in the trunk, she sits on the back bumper of Aunt Charlie’s car and waits.

She is smoking a drunk cigarette, bummed from an older Naval Admiral who was standing outside the bar, and watching the moon when Charlie wanders out of the party, not even a lipstick smudge out of place. 

“Where did you run off to tonight?” Charlie asks on the drive home, and as soon as Nora starts to tell her the abridged truth, that she was with Bradley, Charlie adds, “And before you answer, I do feel inclined to point out the huge hickey on your neck.” 

Nora screw her eyes shut. Goddammit Bradley.

“Now I don’t think I should answer that question.” 

Charlie sighs. “You’re an adult, Nora, and I know I can’t really say anything without sounding like a hypocrite after Pete, but please don’t start dating someone I used to teach.” 

Nora exhales a laugh, leaning her forehead against the cool glass of the window, fogging with her breath. Her gaze is skyward, unfocused, watching the stars blink and out of existence between the clouds. 

After a moment, Nora says, “Since I have no plans to date a Naval aviator, I think I’m safe. No danger there.” 

Her phone buzzes against her leg. 

Bradley Bradshaw: Always a pleasure, Rogers ;)

Bradley Bradshaw: Don’t be a stranger.

Nora holds her phone tight in her hand and tries not to smile. 

end note: i don't know how many biho readers actually care about bradley and nora, but i love the context that this one shot gives to their friendship, so i hope you did too! 🩵 likes are always appreciated, but comments and reblogs make my whole day. i love hearing from y'all.

read the series

[artyandink]

𝙾𝙻𝙳 𝙵𝙰𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙾𝙽𝙴𝙳 | bartender!dean winchester

Summary: Dean Winchester needs a job after his little brother left for Stanford, and he’s good at mixing drinks. You happen to work at Harvelle’s Roadhouse, which is the place he chose to work at. He finds a family. He finds a new life. But he also finds you. But you have problems of your own.

A/N - My first reader series, do make sure to comment and/or reblog feedback. Set with S1/2 Dean cause I love our baby boy 😁 and pretend group chats exist on old phones lol

A/N 2 - Chapter’s kinda short, sorry guys 😬 I’ve been ill nonstop, and that sapped my creative juice

Warnings: Blood, gore, alcohol, chaotic group chat, angst, some fluff, Charlie being Charlie, mentions of abuse, Benny isn’t a vampire, Ruby and Meg aren’t demons, everyone got an out from hunting and the Apocalypse, Azazel doesn’t come after the Winchesters

SERIES MASTERLIST

three - french 75

You and Dean were working the bar the following Tuesday with Bela and Benny, a surprisingly chaotic duo while, as usual, the rest of the gang lived it up in a booth nearby.

After the Roadhouse closed up, all of you agreed on what you knew would be a chaotic night of strip poker, almost guaranteed highlights being Ruby’s victory gorilla grunt, Jo throwing her cards down when she lost and Bela’s painfully obvious ‘poker face’ which consisted of her smirk that was strained with poorly restrained giggles.

It was tradition, really.

“Is this place looking for vacancies?” There was a redhead at the bar, her locks cropped to her chin and she sported an eager expression. “If not, that’s ok. I need a way to make some extra cash.”

“And you are?” You asked with a broad smile, pouring a glass of whiskey for a patron.

“Charlie. Bradbury.” She replied with an equally as wide smile. You already took to her well; she seemed like another lost soul who needed a family, but someone you could easily warm up to.

“Ok, Charlie Bradbury. Behind the counter.” You let her in, starting to show her the way in, out, up, down and around the drinks lined behind the counter, showing her the baseball bat in case she needed to ever, y’know, start swinging.

Charlie seemed like a go-getter, already prepared to start flipping bottles and mixing the drinks like nobody’s business.

“This place is cool.” She grinned widely, and you gave her a warm smile and pat on the back as you handed her over to Benny, who took the reins while you and Dean dissolved back into giggles.

Dean nudged you, nodding to Ellen, who looked a lot happier than usual. “Y’know, I think we did Ellen and ol’ boy Bobby a solid. They both seem more like cheery old souls rather than just… old souls.”

“Jo said she actually saw Ellen blushing. Blushing.” You nudged him back. “We play good matchmakers, no?”

“Damn right. We just have to choose our next victims.”

You and Benny were clearing up the bar after closing, the low rumble of your chatter being the only available ambience. The door opened, and without looking up, you and Benny said the exact same thing.

“We’re closed.” You both chorused, but an exhilarated gasp came from whoever walked in, and as your heads looked up, both of your veins turned to straight ice. A woman with flowing, perfectly coiffed brown hair, creamy olive skin and doe eyes was standing there, dressed in white with a longing expression.

You and Benny shared a look, instantly standing closer to one another as you swallowed thickly on a dry throat, the feeling stinging and scratchy. “Andrea.” You whispered, setting the broom against a table while Benny’s eyes misted over with nostalgia and barely restrained heartbreak.

Andrea Kormos. Benny’s ex girlfriend.

“Dre.” Benny breathed, his hand gripping your forearm protectively, putting himself in front of you while your hand discreetly reached for underneath the counter for the concealed weapon, holding off a panic attack as the sight of Andrea brought back unwanted memories. “What are you doing here?”

“My love.” She took a step forward, making Benny fully shield you with his body. “I’ve searched for so long.”

“Why are you here?”

“To bring you back.” Andrea insisted, tilting her head and gazing at Benny as if she was obsessed. “Our family misses you. My father misses you.”

“Tell him to go to hell.” Benny growled, your hand closing around the weapon amid rasping breaths that got shorter each time, heart pounding in your parched throat. Your thoughts drifted to the scars on your neck, the ones that you desperately hid with a good coverage foundation.

Blood draining out of you, your limbs going limp as the thick fluid dropped onto the floor, hungry tongues licking up every inch…

That didn’t help in the slightest.

“I have to bring you in by force if necessary.” She announced, her head held high. “You knew what you got into once you came to our house.”

“I didn’t.” Benny shook his head determinedly. “You said you were just taking me to meet your father. And I find this poor thing in a side room!” His finger pointing at you, blind fury on his face. “I didn’t know what the hell I was getting into.”

“Force it is.” She muttered before teeth, sharp, hooked teeth emerged as she snarled and charged for Benny. Amid gasping breaths, a pounding head and constricted lungs, you yanked a machete out of its holster and swung your dominant arm.

Andrea’s head made a dull thud as it hit the floor, even more so when her body did the same, and before you could collapse against the counter and start sobbing until your voice went hoarse you were drawn into Benny’s arms as he patted your hair, chin on your head as he shushed you. “You’re safe, sweet.” He murmured in a strained voice, torn because who he once thought his love was now lying on the floor.

A piece of his heart might have gone with her.

“Listen to my heartbeat, angel.” He told you, and the thump of his heartbeat filled your ear as you desperately timed your rasping breath with the steady rise and fall of his chest. “Attagirl. Doing so well, sister. I promised you they’d never hurt you again. Didn’t I? And you handled yourself so well. So damn well.”

Inhale.

Exhale.

You repeated that pattern until your head cleared, and you gave Benny a thank you squeeze. He held you for a few more moments before wordlessly sitting you down, getting you a tall, cool glass of water.

Normally, you’d find pin drop silence uncomfortable.

Now you welcomed the change.

The icy liquid seemed to calm your nerves as you gulped it down, Benny’s calloused hand smoothing your hair back an anchor made of the strongest material your brain could think up when it wasn’t all muddled up.

Your lungs gradually releasing the grip it had on your oxygen supply.

“You sit there, sweet.” Benny murmured with a kiss to your crown. “I’ll clear all this up. Like it never happened.”

Your parents had a baby before they were turned into vampires. That baby was you, but they decided to do something else with you.

They made you a lure.

Raised you to coax people into being fed on, and when crop yield was low, you were their supply. That was until Benny got lured into the nest by Andrea, found you and fought like hell to get you both out.

You both stumbled into the Roadhouse, covered in dust, grime and blood, but found a home for life.

You owed your life to Benny, but he insisted that he did the bare minimum and refused any attempt where you tried to repay your internalised debt, and through that you both found an older brother and younger sister figure to rely on.

But only the gang sans Dean and Charlie knew. You’d rather Dean not know where you really came from. He was too innocent for that.

You thought of him, with his million dollar grin, billion dollar flashing eyes and trillion dollar words. If you had to put a tag for his worth on him, he’d be, well, priceless.

A gentleman towards you, a grade A flirt (which you didn’t mind as he lobbed compliment after compliment your way) and he looked at you like you were the only girl in the room. And he never failed to make your heart flutter when he reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear when you were working and it obstructed your vision.

You didn’t know why he’d suddenly reach out to take whatever task you were doing and do it himself. All you knew was that it was only a matter of a few weeks and you were already down bad.

Down bad for Dean Goddamn Winchester.

No. No, you couldn’t be. He was too good for you. Even if all those thoughts flew out of your head the moment he called you ‘sweetheart’.

Sweetheart. You hated that name but loved it at the same time. You hated it because it dragged you deeper into the rabbit hole that was Dean and you knew there was no way out. You loved it because the feeling was like a gulp of whiskey after months of not touching it.

Intoxicating.

bDe: who’s managing shift this weekend

charlie weasley: I am!!!

ScarJo: I’m free to manage shift

Queen B: That’s good, cause me, Ruby, Meg are going on a girls trip

You: Where’s my invite hmmmmm

Ruby-gina George: Fine, you can come

You: YAY

Megolodon: There’s gonna be lots of booze

ScarJo: Kind of regret taking shift now

Ben Dover: Too late, darling, you’re stuck behind the counter

ScarJo: I hate you

You: LET’S GET DRUNK

Queen B: THAT’S THE SPIRIT

Casanova: I’m guessing that you’ll need someone to pick you up.

Megolodon: That’s right, Cassie baby

Casanova: I’ll wait for your call, then.

bDe: a gentleman at his finest, yall

Ruby wondered whether she was ill or something. On a grocery run, she found herself tempted to buy women’s swimsuit magazines because the ladies looked pretty. And another day, she found her heart practically somersaulting when she saw Meg’s lips close around a straw as she drank a vodka and soda.

Goddamn.

Now, Charlie was a newbie, but she’d been open about how she was, y’know, batting for the other team. She liked girls. And that meant that Ruby could ask her for advice. And Jo, because Jo was the classic glue of the group and somehow had advice for every damn thing under the sun.

“Jo.” Ruby sat down in front of Jo, who was in animated conversation with Charlie. They both turned to her in surprise and identical raised eyebrows. “And you, Charlie. I need advice.”

Maybe Charlie could help. After all, she was an expert in the field Ruby needed advice on. This was an extremely unfamiliar topic, even though she’d grown up in a family full of suspiciously close women.

Oh, god, this was nerve wracking.

Jo looked concerned, but nodded, and Charlie did the same. “Sure, go ahead.” Jo gestured for Ruby to continue, while Charlie sat eagerly forward in her seat, waiting for Ruby to speak.

“Ok.” She took a deep breath, her eyes briefly flicking to Meg. “What if… what if I…”

“Liked girls?” Charlie finished the sentence with a wide grin. “Don’t worry, takes one to know one. Clocked you the moment I saw you.”

“Gee, thanks.” Ruby drawled, but Jo covered her hand reassuringly.

“We are really proud of you.” She grinned. “No joke there.”

In the meantime, Dean had ducked out to take a call. You saw him through the window, a frown on that gorgeous face. Then it morphed to a rather docile one as he mouthed ‘sorry, sir’, which got you thinking. Who the hell was he talking to?

“I don’t wanna come back, sir.” Dean muttered dejectedly, but heard John’s voice on the other end of the line.

‘Ain’t your choice to make, son. You’re gonna come back and keep hunting. With your brother gone-’

“Sammy’s out. I should get one too.”

‘You’re a born hunter. You’ll stay that way.’ John’s voice half inclined Dean to drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness.

Hell, he itched to, with how messed up and crappy he was, he ached to.

Then he saw you come out of the bar, brow furrowed in the sudden sunlight. His new home. The one he felt tentative, but safe in. Not like everything was an urge he needed to fight. With you, he just gave in.

And so he gave an exhilarated smile, cut the call and acted as if everything was ok.

Because it was.

You were around.

Sam was nervous. He was at a restaurant with Jessica, wearing his best suit and adjusting his tie, while she looked stunning, in a blue, floor-length dress that brought out her eyes and her beautiful features. The warm lights flickered in the ambience while Sam ordered a round of champagne just as Jess came back from the bathroom, quickly slipping something to the waiter.

“This is a very rare date night.” Jess quipped, her manicured hands (she went for an emergency nail appointment) resting over one another as she gave Sam a knowing look.

He gave her a light scoff and a defensive look. “Hey, hey, I take you on dates all the time-”

“I’m kidding!” She giggled, waving him off before resting her head on her palm. “This is just fancier than usual. It’s a change from our coffee dates. Don’t get me wrong, I love those too, it just makes me think there’s a special occasion.”

That was his cue.

He signalled to the waiters, who brought out Jess’ favourite champagne. She delicately sipped as they talked, of Stanford, how Sam was doing and their chosen courses.

When a small metal thing hit her lips.

She gasped softly as she took it out, seeing a shiny diamond ring and then Sam on one knee, taking her hand and kissing the knuckle.

“Jessica Elizabeth Moore, will you marry me?”

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[staerplatinum]

Some of my favorite doodles from my headcanon/redesign concept sheets used as an excuse to list my headcanons about the main six (for an AU that I'm writing)! More under the cut!

Charlie Morningstar:

She's way more hot-headed than in canon, albeit still keeping her cheerful and gentle persona.

She loves food, and she's always hungry. I always loved the trope of protagonists (both male and female, like look at Goku himself, Usagi Tsukino or Minako Aino) and I think it could fit Charlie perfectly!

She loves planning (and this is already canon) and she has a lot of stationary gadgets. "Sure Alastor, you can borrow any pen! ... Not that one! :D" And takes good care of them.

Her birthday is February 29th. I thought that it wouldn't be strange if her birthday ended up being that day if she follows a demoniac calendar...

Vaggie:

It's canon that she likes everything to be clean and organized. I think she would help Niffty with the rooms and everything! They bond!

She and Angel Dust absolutely have BFFs vibes. Before Hazbin Hotel I remember they were meant to be a couple, but with the new canon they're still adorable as best friends and I love the dynamic more. They get into fights but it's never anything serious, they look like a big brother and a little sis, even though sometimes she definitely acts as a big sis to him. Angel sees Molly through her :(

As we know she doesn't really believe in herself, but she actually makes a very good leader!

In my fanfic, contrarily to the series, she was really fighting with burning hate towards the angels that cast her out. She holds a deep grudge and it's hard for her to come out of it. (I want Out for Love to be useful, it's my favorite song ç_ç)

Her name as a human was Agata Flores, she was born the 28th of June in 1993. If we still count 2014 as her death and if she was once a winner that then became sinner... my headcanon is that she died of a hate crime in March 25th 2014, aged 21.

Angel Dust:

He's not in drag 24/7. He really is feminine, but sometimes likes to try masculine outfits too. (which make Husk wonder "why am I staring??")

He's secretly a nerd. Or not so secretly. He owns video games, and especially likes RPGs and life sims.

He overanalyses everything. Well, almost everything but still. He actually likes reading, and this led him to analyse anything that comes into his eye. (Oh, I can't wait to write one of those scenes because I already had fun outlining it LMAOO)

He's probably Charlie's food buddy. Give them some food and they'll be happy (Valentino doesn't like this but get screwed Val, give him food too)

His name as a human was Anthony (canon) Cavallaro and had Neapolitan heritage. He's born in April 1st (and this is canon) 1912, he died of overdose (canon) in October 11th 1947, aged 35.

Alastor:

I loved his pilot persona more than the series', and most of the things are confirmed canon... but I do have some headcanons for him, too! (also yeah I don't think that will be my last radioapple drawing or doodle lol)

We know he either doesn't sleep or sleeps with his eyes open. Well, I imagine him that in the few rare occasions he actually sleeps, his radio works as a mental surveillance "camera". Also, he's a light sleeper and would definitely go "Do you fellows mind? I'm trying to sleep." like the old man he is.

I would like to explore Alastor's feelings for Charlie more, and how he sees her as a daughter. While we may not know if he was telling the truth, I think they both seeked each other as a fatherly and daughter figures in a way. Many in the fandom headcanon Alastor's father to have been shitty to him. If he truly sees Charlie as a daughter, it could be because he would like to be a better father than the one he had, and since he never had children, he grew affectionate to Charlie as such.

He knows how to handle alcohol well, but I like to think that when he's really drunk he doesn't even know what he's doing. Oh, you saw him playing with Angel's Nintendo Switch? He even brought it into his room to continue playing Animal Crossing by himself? He was totally wasted.

His name as a human was Alastor (which is apparently canon, but I wonder if it'll be retconned or not?) Boudreaux-Alexander. Boudreaux was his father's last name, Alexander was his mother's. He didn't like his mother taking her husband's last name and wanted to keep his mother's. He was born in March 7th 1901, and died in August 4th 1933, aged 32, after being shot by a hunter that confused him with a deer and was mauled by dogs afterwards. (Yikes, I'm so sorry)

Niffty:

She definitely has written lots of fanfics about her fellow hotel friends. Especially men. Yet, she loves Charlie and Vaggie too, so they're there as well.

We know both Niffty and Husk have deals with Alastor. She loves them both, I love to headcanon that when she feels lonely and can't sleep well or had nightmares, she either goes to Husk's or Alastor's room to sleep with them. They welcome her warmly ç_ç

Alastor and Husk most definitely know Niffty's story, which is why they care about her so much. She's childish for her age, but it could be tied to a past that only the two of them know very well.

Niffty knew Vox when they were alive. Now I know it could be a weird headcanon since Niffty is Japanese and Vox is American, but if Niffty's work brought her around the world it wouldn't be weird if they crossed paths. When Vox died Niffty was 19, she either saw him die in front of her eyes or something else happened.

As I mentioned in my concept sheets, she used to wear glasses when she was alive so she can't see really well without them after she died. Sometimes she borrows Alastor's monocle, and if we apply the headcanon that he's colorblind, without his monocle not only he can't see anything but can't even see colors LOL

Her name when she was alive was Sachiko Tanaka, born February 27th 1934. She died September 1st 1956, aged 22, there are popular headcanons about the way she died and yikes, if it's true she didn't have a good death either. Not at all.

Husk:

Maybe I'm overanalysing but what if the reason why he grew affectionate to Niffty was because he once had children? Or just one? Either he had a child and was with him but felt like he wasn't a good father or his ex-wife left him because of his gambling addiction and this made him feel guilty, not able to see his child ever again. (I feel bad just thinking about this but ç_ç)

Despite the fact he hates being on a leash and none other than Alastor's, he actually cares about him. If the two were friends when they were alive (including Mimzy), this could explain why he's still around Alastor even if reluctantly. (Sure he says he's forced, but in the pilot Alastor summoned him, so it's safe to assume either Alastor-Husk-Niffty were roommates before coming to the hotel and did their business without telling Alastor, or simply we need more explanations of Alastor's deals)

His name when he was alive was Ivan Goncharov, born January 29th 1900, and died in December 23rd 1967, aged 67. As I mentioned in my concept sheets, he was friends with Alastor and Mimzy when they were alive and he was the last one of them to die. He would often visit his friends' graves when he was still alive :(

[im-not-batman]

Okay i am SO excited that people were interested so here it is. I need to preface this with the fact that it won't be totally 1-to-1.

9-1-1/The West Wing Fusion crossover AU thing

SO, i already said Bobby is the President. Not only does it make sense for his relationships with everyone else, but he is also very similar to Bartlett in a lot of ways: the Catholicism, the hidden illness (Jed's MS and Bobby's Alcoholism and PTSD), the strong moral compass and the way they are always everyone's go-to for advice. Also the way they deal with problems and conflict.

Athena is obviously FLOTUS. Unfortunately i suffer with Can't-Stand-Athena Disease, so i'm leaning on my love of Abbey for this one. But they're both very capable, intelligent women who can't be told what to do. Both are completely devoted to their families and are even self-destructive with that love sometimes. (Athena going after Amir (DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THAT - FUCKING ACAB) and Abby secretly treating Jed's MS and putting her lisence in question).

May and Harry should take on the roles of Zoey and Ellie respectively. May still being the older sibling, i just think they fit the personalities of the siblings better that way. Harry being distant and aloof until they have a breakthrough, May being close to the family and friendly with the other staffers. Also the Charlie/Zoey of it all.

Hen (my beloved) is Chief of Staff. This feels obvious. She's already Bobby's second in command, she's got the instict for it, and the respect of all the others. I also think she would still have a fire fighting background and she got into politics later. I just think that experience would be vital for her as COS, similar to Leo's military service. I also think a professional history like that would also commmand respect from strangers.

For Deputy Chief of Staff I'm (perhaps predictably) going with Eddie. I was toying with the idea of it being Chim but you'll see why i didn't got there when i explain his role. But yeah, Eddie's perfect for this one. Both he and Josh are dramatic about everything, they both have well-meaning hearts that sometimes results in them doing or saying stupid shit, they have deepseated issues that cause them to push people away. Also, need i say it? SHOOTING ARC! This also (again predictably i fear) allows for the EPIC ROMANCE of Josh and Donna to be mapped onto Buddie.

Which brings me of course to Buck. He's gotta be Donna. They've got the shared history of failed relationships with some not great people (but remain hopeless romantics anyway), Buck flitting from job to job and Donna not having much work experience go hand on hand too. Also they're both very capable and intelligent but hide it/don't realise that fully. I like to think that Maddie qas the one to get him his job amd Eddie was just a bit too scared to question her.

Now Maddie. This might be an unpopular decision because on the surface they are nothing alike, but I'm putting Maddie in Toby's spot. Not only does she suit Director of Communications perfectly – Maddie is the fucking QUEEN of coomunication (season 5 notwithstanding lol) but she and Toby share a lot of their values. Sure, Toby's a miserable, pessimistic asshole about it, but they both believe in a very black and white definition right and wrong. They are both loyal to a fault (even Toby's treason was an act of loyalty you can fight me on this but you will LOSE) and do everything they can to protect the people they love. Also i just love them both so much i want to fuse them into one because it makes me feel like a mad scientist in a lab trying to create the perfect character out of goo and slime and glitter.

Anyway! For Maddie's second, I'm really not sure. I was thinking maybe Linda or Josh but neither fit particularly well to me. Idk, let me know what you guys think.

Okay. Chim. Think how perfect he'd be as Press Sec. Please. That man is BORN to be on camera. He's charismatic and friendly and relatable, he comes across as approachable but fr who would cross him if he put his foot down? No one! Also. I IMPLORE you to please imagine him doing the Jackal. It was so hard to figure out who i'd trust to take up the mantel of CJ "baddest bitch around" Cregg because i love her so much but when i started to consider Chimney it felt obvious 😅 i also just think he'd love to have the opportunity to evicerate an asshole on live television, and he DESERVES that opportunity too. And if you were wondering: Yes I DO ship CJ and Toby. Hence Madney being their counterparts.

Now for my boy Charlie!!! It of course HAS to be Ravi!! Those boys are the sweetest loveliest boys on the planet! They pair up so well! I also have a headcanon that, similar to Charlie, Ravi has younger siblings he's always had to take care of because their mum died and their dad worked too much. So. Yeah. Also lowkey May x Ravi nation where are you please accept me into your ranks.

Anyway, i hope this is acceotable to everyone who was interested. I might write something in this AU one day but if you have ever interacted with me before you should know not to hold your breath lmao

Tagging @pangrams-n-palindromes from my other post so they see this, I hope that's okay!

[chronicbeans]

Thank you so much for doing Husk x Reader Headcannon!!

Is there a platonic version of it? Nothing wrong with Romance I love it so much! But I also would love to see a platonic one, if you can?

Oh, yeah, sure! I'm going to keep it as a Maladaptive Daydreamer Reader, since that was what the original one was. Sorry if that's not what you meant lol. These will also be short, because I feel like with Husk, there wouldn't be too much of a difference between a platonic and romantic relationship.

Platonic Husk x Maladaptive Daydreamer Reader

TW: Alcohol/Alcoholism, Maladaptive Daydreaming

• The main difference between him being in a platonic and romantic relationship, is that you will never get to see that cuddly side of him which he only shows to romantic partners. Besides that, a lot of the stuff he does is the same.

• He wants to keep you happy, and a part of it is helping you ground yourself. If you aren't grounded, none of his tactics to help you stay happy will work, since you won't be present and in the moment. As much as daydreaming keeps you happy in the moment, you've told him how much it stresses you out. So, it isn't healthy for you.

• He sounds like a bit of a hypocrite whenever he lightly scolds you for it, and he is more than well aware of that fact. He knows he has a drinking problem, but that's why he's so focused on trying to help you, alongside the fact that you're his friend. It's a bit like "if you can overcome a similar situation that's going on entirely in your brain, maybe I can overcome my situation and stop drinking?" Though, he does imagine your situation as being a bit more difficult, entirely because it's in your mind. That, and he tends to downplay his own problems a lot. So, everybody's problem is bigger than his drinking problem. He only ever scolds you lightly, because he's aware a lot of your daydreaming might be subconscious, and that you didn't even try to start it up.

• If you ever try to start helping him with his drinking, you'd probably be one of the few people he'd accept that help from. It's you and Angel Dust. You are the only two. He feels like you both can understand him, in a way, so he sees your help as being more "genuine" and full of actually useful advice. Sure, Charlie may try to help, but because she can't relate to his problems, her advice may not be the best. You two? Your situations may not be exactly the same, but he's aware that your strategies may be more useful.

• Besides you trying to help each other, he loves to play card with you and show you magic tricks with them. He promises to never cheat at cards, and as long as there's no gambling involved, he never will. The second there's stakes added, though, it becomes a 50/50 chance on whether or not he'll keep his promise.

• Whatever you do, don't bring attention to his more cat-like behaviors when you notice them. He dislikes the form he's taken in Hell, and by extension, any behavior that is a consequence of it. Don't talk about him purring, growling... none of it. In return, he won't talk about anything you dislike.

• The two of you will probably end up drinking together at the bar. No matter what type of drunk you are, he knows how to handle it. Surprisingly, you've never noticed him actually get drunk whenever you drink together...

[vladajwrites]

Razor’s Edge

Part Three || Part Four || Part Five || Part Six

Summary; Reader moves to Woodsboro for her senior year of high school. This story take place in the setting of the Scream 4 movie. This story is dedicated to all of the girls living through the current Rory Culkin revival. I love and see you. <3

Also available to be read on AO3 here

It's imperative for me to mention MAJOR trigger warnings for this story; blood, violence, sexual content, alcohol usage, and mentions of abusive situations and suicide. I will add and edit tw's as needed.

WC; 5830

Notes; this chapter has actually had my head spinning lol

again, truly thank you for reading! much much love <3

(Not Beta Read)

You spent the remainder of the school day restlessly waiting to see Charlie again. The more you thought of it, the idea of him orchestrating that night with you, the more you warmed up to the idea.

It was an interesting and covertly complex tactic, definitely, but you were thankful he actually made a move. He clearly was not the type to just outwardly express his feelings and emotional intentions. The lying to you and Robbie, finishing up the project on his own; it should make you understandably unnerved, but it doesn’t. So, if this was what he needed to do to convey his feelings to you, you could learn to find it endearing.

You stopped Charlie in the hall on the way to film club after the last bell rang. His cheeks were tinted red as he met your eyes. 

“Charlie,” you began. 

“Look, I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I shouldn’t have lied to you.” He tripped over his words. 

His expression showed his confusion as a small smile slipped up your lips. You loved how nervous he still was around you.

You placed your arms over his shoulders. “I forgive you, but don’t you dare lie to me again, Charlie Walker.” You whispered right beside his ear. 

He cleared his throat, stumbling back a bit as you pulled away. “Yes, ma’am.” 

You laughed, sliding one of your arms through the gap between his elbow and stomach. 

“Ma’am? I am not my mother.” You teased him, pulling him down the hallway. 

He tensed a bit as your free hand came up to hold around his upper arm.

You both walked in silence for a moment. You could see from the corner of your eye that Charlie was anxiously looking up to meet the perplexed gaze of the students you passed by. You guess this was really the first time that you had shown any affection towards Charlie publically. 

You only held him tighter. You hardly noticed anyone else around the two of you. 

“Did you hear about Kirby’s party next weekend?” You broke the silence. 

He looked down to meet your eyes. His face held something that almost resembled discomfort. 

He nodded before responding. “Yeah, I did.” 

You stopped for a moment as you rounded the corner that led to film club. “Well, Kirby invited me, but I only want to go if you can come with me.”

His arms dropped to his side. You followed suit. What was this expression he now had? You couldn’t read it. He couldn’t meet your eyes before responding. 

“I made plans to visit my mom at Isle Institution. I haven’t seen her in a while-“ 

Your face dropped as you took in his words. Isle Institution? That was the psychiatric care facility in the next town over. When he had said that his mother was in and out of psychiatric help, you never imagined her living in a facility like that. You immediately felt horrible for bringing up the party. Visiting his mother was clearly more important. 

“Oh, no, I completely understand. Go and see your mother. It’d be nice to have a night in on my own, anyway.” You gave him your most reassuring smile. 

He looked down to meet your eyes again. You could tell he was rolling some idea around in his head. 

“No go, I shouldn’t be gone too long. I’ll meet you there. I’d love to go with you.” He tried to give his best smile in return. You weren’t sure you were buying it. You really didn’t want to go to this party alone, didn’t mind spending the night at home, but if he was able to meet you there not too long after? You’d like that very much. 

“Okay,” you nodded. “But don’t worry if you can’t make it. Just try to let me know, please.” 

“Deal.” He replied. 

Film club passed by quickly, as did the rest of the weekend. 

You spent most of your free time texting back and forth with Charlie. He was so much more sure of himself over the phone. Maybe it just was the face-to-face stuff that made him so nervous. 

The school days during the following week were spent looking for Charlie when you could. You made an effort to pass small touches in the halls, could tell he did the same. You couldn’t help but feel your stomach twist up when you caught him watching you in class.

It’d be a lie to say you hadn’t become even more enamored with him with each passing day. He was so incredibly interesting. You wanted to know more, know everything. You caught yourself laughing along with every dumb joke he’d try to make. 

You’d invite him over after class nearly every day. His confidence around you grew as you spent more and more time around one another. 

You couldn’t lie, being in such close proximity to him was making you feel frustrated in a way you hadn’t felt before. You just wanted to be closer to him. You’d watch his lips, his hands; and pray that he’d just reach over and hold you underneath him-

But as the next few days passed by, you could tell something was growing increasingly troublesome in his mind. He just seemed so far off, distant. You wished you could have just found the right words to say to him, take away whatever was worrying him. You wanted him to come back to you so desperately. 

On Friday, you finally worked up the courage to ask him what was wrong. You laid in your bed next to him, pretending to work on something for your English class. 

“What’s bothering you, Charlie?” You asked. He sat beside you, staring out your bedroom window. 

“Hmm?” He replied as if he hadn’t caught your question. 

You grabbed his hand, urging him to look at you as you adjusted yourself into a sitting position. 

“What’s going on with you?” You asked gently. 

His eyes darted quickly over your face. “Nothing-“ 

Your brows furrowed as you shot a look at him that said, ‘I know you’re lying to me.’

He sighed before continuing, “I- I don’t know. It’s just my mom, I think. I haven’t seen her in a while, to be honest. I’m always nervous to be around her. I don’t want to upset her.” 

You ran your thumb over the back of his hand and nodded. “I’m sorry Charlie, I’m sure she’d love to see you.” You smiled softly. 

He sucked in a breath, nodding. 

You both sat there for a moment, hand in hand, heads against the headboard. Music played faintly in the background, filling the lapse in conversation. 

Charlie was the one who broke the silence after some time had passed. His question was so quiet, you nearly weren’t able to catch it. “Could you hurt someone?”

You turned sharply to look at him. His face stayed forward, but you were able to catch his gaze from his peripherals. 

“What do you mean?” You tried to conceal your confused tone. 

He turned to face you now. “If you had to, could you do it if you absolutely had to?” 

His question was nearly disorienting. Why would he ask you this? Your confusion cleared as you thought back to his mother and his father. Was this what he meant?

Could you? Really, could you bring yourself to do it?

You swallowed hard. “If it were between my life or someone else’s, I think I could.” He settled into the bed a bit at your answer. 

“If this is about your father, Charlie, you did what you had to do. I’d never hold that against you. And I’m sure your mother wouldn’t either.” 

He didn’t reply, only let his gaze fixate on the ceiling fan above. You didn’t push it any further. You hoped he’d be back in his usual spirits after his visit with his mother. 

You woke the next morning in a tangle of sheets. The record you had been playing the night before was skipping over and over again on the player. The conversation you had with Charlie the day before played over in your mind. You frowned. It must feel so lonely to go through life after what he had lived through. You prayed this day would go well for him. 

You sat up, groaning, pushing the hair out of your eyes. You reached for your phone, scrolling through your limited notifications. 

Kirby’s text was at the top. “I’ll see you later. ;)” 

“Can’t wait!” you replied. You honestly hadn’t been keeping up with Kirby as much as you believed you should have. You made a mental note to thank her for the invitation when you saw her tonight. 

Charlie had also messaged you, “I should still be able to make it back in time for the party. I’ll let you know if anything changes.” 

There was a second message from him sent slightly after the first one. “Send me a picture of what you decide to wear.” 

You smiled to yourself. He didn’t care about what you had decided to wear, not so smooth. “You’ll see what I’m wearing when I see you at the party.” 

You honestly hadn’t given much thought to what you would wear. Kirby had messaged you asking for advice on her outfit a few days before. You wanted to dress up like her, look nicer than usual.

You stood, lifting the needle on your record player and turning it off. You pulled your closet doors open and riffled through the mess of hangers inside. After throwing skirts and dresses and other articles of clothing into a pile on your bed, you realized that nothing you owned fit the image you had in mind. 

You groaned, collapsing amongst the pile. It was useless, you resigned yourself. 

Just then, Irina passed by your door, which was propped open about a quarter of the way. An idea came to you then. She’d surely have something. You knew she kept most of her clothing from her life-of-the-party days. She had amassed a comprehensive collection of clothing over the years. Her closet was nearly daunting to explore on your own. 

You quickly stood, throwing open your door. Irina jumped at the end of the hall. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You tried to laugh it all off. She grabbed at her chest, laughing with you. 

“Is there something I can do for you? Or were you trying to give me a heart attack?” She asked, steadying her cup of coffee. 

You made your way down the hall toward her, apologizing again. “Yes, actually, I’m desperate.” 

She cocked an eyebrow, following you into her bedroom. She turned to face you again, unsure where the conversation was about to go. 

“Okay, there’s this big party tonight,” the smile on Irina’s face grew to meet her eyes as you continued. “And I have nothing to wear. It’s just not coming together.” You sighed, dropping onto her bed. 

She set her coffee on the nightstand beside you before opening the doors that led into her closet. 

She started flipping through hangers towards the back of her wardrobe. She reached for a hanger before turning over her shoulder. “Oh, I definitely have an idea or two.” 

You smiled as she walked out, holding a black silken dress in her hands. She placed it in your hands as you looked it over. It was definitely beautiful, imaginatively form-fitting, low-cut, and incredibly short. Not the type of thing you were used to wearing, but you trusted Irina’s vision. She returned from her closet again with a pair of deep red heeled-boots. 

She dropped the boots in your hands as well. “Well, go try it all on.” 

You nodded, standing up. 

Once in the bathroom, you stepped out of your clothes, gently pulling the dress over your head. You slid on the boots before giving yourself a once over in her full-length mirror. 

Your breath caught in your chest at the sight. This was it, exactly the sort of thing you had wanted to wear. How could she always tell? 

You hadn’t realized how long you stood there before Irina knocked on the other side of the door. You steadied yourself, smoothing over the dress before opening the door. 

Irina’s eyes lit up immediately, her hands came up to her chest. “So beautiful, sweetheart.” 

“Thank you,” you replied breathlessly. 

She fixed the straps and tugged at the waistline a bit. “It’s just a little big, but should work for tonight. I’ll have it tailored for you sometime soon.” 

“Thank you so much. Really, thank you.” You replied, wrapping your arms around her. 

The rest of the day was spent anxiously pacing around your house. You fussed with your hair and makeup until giving up and calling in Irina to help you with that as well. 

Once you were all ready, and it was time to go, you collected your few things in the clutch your aunt had also let you borrow. She insisted that your usual purse would have completely ruined the entire outfit. You didn’t fight her on it. 

Irina stopped you at the door. “Have your phone?”

“Yes, fully charged.” You replied. 

She nodded. “Well, keep your ringer on. Call me if you need anything.” 

“Okay.” You reached over to give her one last hug before leaving. 

“Have fun tonight. Be safe and responsible! If the police pick you up, I’ll post your bail!” She called after you as you made your way to your car. You laughed, waving at her over your shoulder. 

You followed the directions to Kirby’s house carefully, trying not to pay any attention to your nerves. You parked in the first spot you found amidst the ever-extending line of parked cars in front of her house. 

You locked your car, shoving the keys back into your clutch. 

The music was loud enough to be heard from the street. You noticed a few people standing on her front porch smoking. 

You anxiously smoothed over your dress. The cool air made your skin prick up. You should’ve brought a jacket. Maybe you could go back and grab one-

No, you quickly put the idea to rest, knowing if you left now, you wouldn’t return. 

You wished Charlie was there to walk in with you as you entered the party. You quickly grabbed a plastic cup from the table that had been set up in the entryway. You filled it up with whatever alcoholic concoction was sitting in a tub in front of you. You finished it in a few gulps, swallowing down hard. The first drink was always the worst. 

You filled it up again before making your way further into the party. The music was making the floor pound. It was hard to keep steady as you pushed through the crowd toward the living room. Most of your peers already appeared to be completely inebriated around you. 

You tried for a few moments to find Kirby but gave up after a while figuring she must be busy or off doing her own thing. 

There were black and white masks thrown about the party. It took a moment, but you eventually recognized them from the Stab movies. You had never personally watched them, but had always seen the advertisements for the films.

Of course, you thought. You honestly hadn’t even really thought about the terrible reality that those movies were based on since moving to Woodsboro. The only time you had really heard about the murders was briefly in your childhood, and occasionally on the news during the anniversary of the killings. Hadn’t they happened in October? 

You found the mask’s presence here odd, even a bit morbid, but you hadn’t actually grown up here. You figured that the lifelong residents who had lived through this all had a right to remember it however they wanted to. 

As you pushed the thought of the murders toward the back of your mind and made your way deeper into the growing crowd, your head began to grow fuzzy and swim under the neon lights that flashed around you. It was a welcome feeling, slowly working to drown out your nerves from before. 

After finishing your third cup, you decided to have a fourth. After this, you’d slow down, you promised yourself. 

You eventually ran into Kirby. She looked stunning, as usual. She was clearly already drunk but held herself together eloquently. 

“Oh my God, it’s so good to see you. I wasn’t actually sure if you would come!” Kirby said while pulling you tightly into a hug.

She stumbled a bit as she let go. You held both her and yourself steady. The effects of the alcohol were slowly reaching a peak inside you. 

“Yeah, it’s good to see you, too. Thank you for the invitation!” You had to shout your reply. Your voice was still nearly muffled by the voices and music around you. 

“Of course! Hope I run into you again.” Kirby smiled and went to turn on her heel. She stopped herself briefly, grabbing your arm before you also walked away. “Have you seen Jill anywhere? She was supposed to be here hours ago.” 

You barely caught the last of her words. “No, I’m sorry. I haven’t seen her.” 

Kirby looked a bit defeated but nodded. “She’ll turn up. Thank you anyways!”

After leaving Kirby, a girl you recognized from your homeroom class passed you a shot glass and another cup of too-sour mixer and what surely must’ve been cheap tequila. You took the gifted shot with a small group of people in the kitchen before slipping back through the main area of the party. The music was becoming too loud; the lights were blinding. You felt so hot, could barely breathe. 

With the cheap DIY margarita still in your hand, you made your way into the backyard. You just needed a moment, needed to see if Charlie had reached out to you yet. The back patio was dimly lit, the cool air was now a welcomed companion. 

A small crowd was formed around some more tables on the lawn below. Beerpong was well underway, and apparently very intense at the moment based on the way people were yelling and cheering each other on. 

You took another sip of your drink before setting the cup on the patio railing, reaching into your purse for your phone. 

You swayed a bit, frowning to yourself after seeing you had no messages from Charlie, no missed calls, either. Your fingers hovered over the screen for a moment as you tried to make out the now swirling letters on your keyboard. 

“Are you almost here?” You took your time rereading the text to make sure you had gotten out the right words. Satisfied, you pressed send. 

You watched your phone for a moment, staring at the screen, hoping for a quick text back. You just wanted to be near him so badly. You came to the conclusion that he must be on his way if he wasn’t responding. Seemingly resigning, you dropped your phone in your bag again. 

As you reached beside you for your cup, it was picked up before you had the chance to grab it. 

Your heart sank as you turned to face the man who was now holding your drink hostage. Scotty towered above you. You watched in disgust as he quickly finished the rest of your drink. 

Even in your now almost drunken state, you wanted to be away from him as quickly as possible. As you turned to walk away, his hand rapidly planted itself on the wall beside your head. You watched with disdain as he threw the now empty cup over his back and placed his other hand on your shoulder. 

His grip was bruising as you tried to shrug him off of you. 

“Hey, where are you trying to run off to? We can be friends, right?” He smelt like liquor, his eyes could hardly focus on you. 

You shivered as he stumbled forward, planting a knee between your thighs, effectively pinning you to the wall. 

You shook your head, looking around for anyone else close by that could step in and help you. It was just the two of you alone on the porch. From what you could tell, no one was paying any attention at all from the lawn below. 

You brought your hands up on his chest, pushing him with all your strength. Your head felt so dizzy, he barely moved an inch. Your body was effectively working against you. You instantly regretted coming to this party, drinking, all of it. You could hardly even find the strength to use your voice.  

“Come on, sweetheart. I know you want me, too; showing up here looking like this tonight. I’m glad you ditched that loser you’ve been seeing.” He brought his head down closer to yours.

The blood under the surface of your skin boiled. Without giving it any thought, you leaned in closer, spitting in his face. 

“Get the fuck off of me.” Your words were more slurred than you had imagined they would be. 

A satisfied smile graced your lips as you watched him stumble back, wiping at his face. 

The proud expression you held quickly transformed into terror as you watched Anderson’s line-of-sight turn dark, filled with rage. 

You barely had time to process what was going on before he stepped back closer to you. You could feel his sickly hot breath on your skin. He closed the distance so quickly. This time, his aggression was not hidden behind the sly mask he wore only moments ago. 

He wouldn’t really hurt you, would he? 

Your question was devastatingly answered as he stepped back half a step, raising his arm to swing. An absolutely evil look showed in his eyes. You wouldn’t have been able to slip past him in time to escape. 

You dropped nearly to your knees, shielding your face with your forearms. 

The entire world seemed to slow and stop around you. It was only you, your back against the wall, your heart pounding in your throat. 

You tensed your entire body, bracing for the impact you were sure was to come. 

Suddenly you were just a child, on your bedroom floor, your father smacking you around as he verbally tore into you. 

You couldn’t help the tears that welled in your eyes. 

Abruptly, you felt a heavy thud in front of you, pulling you from your thoughts. You jumped, the deafening buzz in your ears subsided as you recognized a familiar voice. 

You peeked over your arms. Scotty never got the chance to make contact with you. 

“I’ll kill you. I’ll fucking kill you.” The sound of a fist connecting with the hard bone of a lower jaw rang out around you. 

It was Charlie. 

He was standing over Anderson’s barely conscious body. His left fist was hooked into the collar of his shirt, while his right swung back to let into him again and again. 

Your eyes widened in shock. The sound of Scotty choking back on his own blood urged you to your feet. 

By now, people from the lawn and the thrown-open back door were filing onto the patio. The shocked whispers of those around you fell on deaf ears. 

You reached forward, wrapping your arms around Charlie’s arm that held Anderson in place. 

You pulled with all your strength, working on pure adrenaline. “Stop, Charlie, please. You’ve got him. It’s okay, I’m okay.” 

He slacked at the sound of your words, straightening up to grab you in his arms. You could feel his heart pounding in his chest, or maybe it was just your own that you were feeling. 

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve been here sooner. I’m so sorry.” He said over and over again. His hands worked themselves comfortingly up and down your back. 

You nodded, painfully pulling yourself away from him for a moment. There were now a few people surrounding Scotty, trying to pull him up from the ground. You could feel the questioning and shocked eyes on you and Charlie from the small crowd that had formed. 

“Please, please, can we just leave?” You gasped out. 

Charlie nodded, looking you over. His arms draped over your shoulder, pulling you into him. He skillfully and carefully moved you through the crowds and out of the house. 

You shivered and stumbled out into the street. Charlie was quick to steady you. He shrugged out of his coat and threw it gently over your shoulders. The tears were steadily streaming down your face and onto your chest. 

Once at your car, you messed around in your purse, digging for your keys. 

“Here baby, please, let me drive you home.” Charlie reached for your purse and walked around with you to the passenger side. He opened the door for you, waiting until you were in comfortably before closing the car door slowly. He was quick to find your keys and turn over the engine.

The car was silent. You were both unsure of what to say. 

“I’m so sorry,” Charlie spoke just above a whisper. You looked over at him. His knuckles, from what you could tell, were white as he gripped the steering wheel. A thick layer of blood had dried across his right hand. 

You shivered again at the thought of what had happened just moments before. You honestly would’ve never believed Charlie had that kind of physical strength in him. To drop a man, who was objectively much bigger than nearly everyone was, to the ground- it was just so- 

You looked up to meet his eyes. “Please don’t be sorry. If you hadn’t come when you had, hadn’t done what you had done to protect me- I’m sorry that you even had to get involved.” 

He sighed, reaching to rest one of his warm hands on your bare upper thigh. “Don’t apologize to me. It should’ve never been able to get to that point.” 

You put your hand over his as gently as possible, carefully avoiding his knuckles that were already beginning to swell. 

How could this have all happened? How could you put yourself in this position? You tried to will away the dark thoughts that were telling you that this was in any way your fault. You truly couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt, though. What if Charlie got into any trouble because of this? What if Anderson pressed charges or tried to get back at Charlie or you in some horrible way? Were you both in any danger now? No one stood up to men like Anderson and his group.  

And if Charlie hadn’t gotten there when he had-? How was it possible for him to always be there in the moments you needed him? And how was he able to do what he did? It was all just so unbelievable. You had seen a side of Charlie tonight you would’ve never imagined you’d see. The venom in his voice, the strength, the quick brutality of actions- 

This entire situation sobered you up rapidly. You dropped your head in your hands, willing away the tears. You hadn’t even realized you were beginning to hyperventilate until you felt Charlie’s hand tighten around you, urging you out of your own thoughts.

You could feel him steal small glances of you as you stared out the passenger window. 

“I’m sorry, I’m okay.” You said, your voice raspy and broken. You sat up straight, wiping away the last of your tears. You had to be stronger than this, it was going to be okay, it had to be. 

“Don’t say sorry anymore, please.” Charlie looked over to meet your eyes.

The hand he held on your thigh came up to rest in the mess of your hair. He moved his fingers, carefully working to comfort you. 

Your eyes fluttered back as you relaxed into him. 

As long as you were with him, it would be okay. You would work it out together. 

Charlie’s hand dropped back into your lap as your breaths evened out a bit more. His fingers traced steady circles on your upper thighs, just above the silk of your dress. 

You carefully shrugged out of his coat; it was just getting so warm. You went to reach for the dial that adjusted your AC, only to find it had been shut off this entire time. 

You felt your face flush as you dropped your hand back in your lap. 

“You know, I’m glad I waited to see that dress on you in person.” Charlie gave you a smile, trying his best to reassure you, relieve any of the tension that still drilled into your nerves. “You really do look beautiful. I mean- you always do, I-“ 

You let out a sigh that nearly resembled a real laugh, sinking further into your seat. Your head fell to rest on his arm. 

“Thank you, Charlie.” Your heart swelled as you looked up at him. The features of his face lit up so perfectly under the dim street lighting. You wished you could capture this image and keep it forever. You hadn’t even noticed that you were now parked in front of your house. 

He was just so beautiful, kept you safe. You knew, in his own way, he absolutely adored you. He was absolutely everything to you. You would do anything, if it brought him any sort of peace. 

Your smile widened as he looked down at you. 

He gently moved the hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear. 

“What’s going on, babe?” His brow furrowed a bit as he tried to find the cause of the tears that had begun to well in your eyes again. 

You never wanted to be away from him. You just hoped he understood how deeply you cared for him, how much you needed him. How much you lo- “I love you.” The words spilled mindlessly out of you. 

He immediately tensed beside you. Had you actually said that out loud? 

He was quick, carefully wrapping his hands on either side of your face, pulling you close to look at him. He studied your face for any hint of sincerity. 

Had you been sincere? Yes, you resigned yourself. You really did love him. Whatever love meant to you, it filled your heart just for him. 

“Do you mean that?” His voice was so low. 

You nodded. “Yes Charlie, I just love you. I mean it.” 

His lips were on yours before he could give himself another moment to process it all. 

You melted into him, matching his fervent need. 

“I love you, too.” He spoke against your lips. The tears finally began to fall again. After all the terrible things that had happened to you in life, if you had to experience them all over again, just to stay in this moment with him like this for a moment longer, you’d choose to go through it in a heartbeat.

He worked quickly, picking you up over the center console and helping you over his lap. 

You needed more of him, impossibly more. 

His grip around you was nearly suffocating. You just wanted more. All the terrible things that had happened that night seemingly melted away while in his arms. 

He pulled away for a moment. His gaze was full of wonderment and adoration as he looked up at you. He made you feel so beautiful. 

“I’ll pray every night, just to thank whoever brought you into my life.” He spoke just above a whisper. He traced kisses softly against your chest and neck, marking a careful path back to your lips. 

You sighed, arching further into him. Your hands worked through his beautiful hair. 

You weren’t sure how long you both stayed like this. You could’ve stayed in this moment, just in his arms forever, as far as you were concerned. However, the sudden light from your porch sent you both back into your original seats. 

You looked over, eyes falling on Irina, who now stood in the open doorway wearing her robe. Her arms were crossed lazily in front of her chest. 

You groaned quietly, dropping your head into your hands.

You peaked over at Charlie, who was clearing his throat and clumsily adjusting the waistband of his pants. 

You gave him a smile before letting out a real, heartfelt laugh. You wished you could’ve just invited him, climbed into bed, into his arms-

He stepped out of the car quickly, flashing a smile toward you. You hoped he didn’t feel any shame about seemingly being ‘caught’ by your aunt. You knew she wouldn’t care, was just being nosy as usual. You made a glaring mental note to give her the rundown on the escalation of your relationship with Charlie. How could you have not said anything about it to her sooner? 

Charlie made his way over to your side of the car and popped open the door. He held out a hand, helping you out of your seat.

Once your feet hit the pavement, you threw your arms around him again. “I’ll see you again soon. Are you sure you’re okay to walk home?” 

“Yeah, don’t worry about me.” He smiled down at you. 

You kissed him quickly. “You know I always will.” 

“I know. I love you for it.” He replied softly. 

He stepped away, turning to face your aunt. “I’m sorry, just wanted to make sure she made it home safely.” 

Your aunt nodded, “Uh huh.” She couldn’t hide her wide, knowing smile. “Good to see you again, Walker. Have a goodnight.” 

You tried your best to keep your cool as you made your way up the porch steps. Turning back once to wave goodbye to Charlie. 

Irina eyed you over as you both entered the entryway. You knew she must be dying to hear all the details from the night. 

You honestly wouldn’t have the first clue where to start. You curbed her line of questioning before she had the chance to begin. 

“I’ll tell you all about my night tomorrow. I promise, I am just exhausted.” You made your way up the staircase, turning once over your shoulder to face her again. “Thank you for everything tonight, I love you.” 

You could tell Irina was trying her best to hide her slight disappointment, “Okay honey, get some good rest. I love you, too.”

You slipped out of your clothing and heels, running through your nightly routine as quickly as you could before dropping into bed. 

You’d process the entire interaction with Anderson another time. Quite frankly, you believed he deserved to get his teeth knocked in much, much sooner. You were just thankful that Charlie was the one who had stepped in. A sick sense of pride washed over you at the thought.  

For now, you could sleep peacefully knowing that Charlie Walker loved you, too.

[skyblueartt]

Idk why but in my brain— call this a headcanon or an AU or something—Michael shows up at Henry’s doorstep after the whole scooping incident (I mean who else can he possibly turn to other than his cool but really really sad uncle) because their lives were both ruined by the same guy, whether they’ve figured that out or not. Michael has “lost” his father, Henry’s lost his daughter- it works, they sorta fill that void for each other. Mike is his boy, even if he’s some rotting purple zombie now 🤨

I just like the idea of him taking Mike in, y’know, there’s also a lot of funny potential in that idea💀 getting up to use the bathroom at like 3am and seeing undead Michael, glowing eyes and terrifying features just CHILLIN on the couch and Hen, dazed and exhausted and out of it, being like “oh mYGOD—“ for a second before. Wait that’s just Mike lol

Alsooooo I totally feel like Hen becomes an alcoholic and has baaaaaaad coping mechanisms after Charlie dies right, but having his nephew around sort of helps a bit. Like he doesn’t wanna be a “bad influence” (still got that fatherly instinct in him ughHhhH Ahh) 😭😭😭

Yapping session complete

[selineram3421]

Could I request some platonic relationship headcanons of Angel Dust with an asexual reader? If you like the concept (cuz I haven’t seen this anywhere else) I would love some one shots too! Like reader’s 18th birthday, a comfort/reverse comfort scene. It would just make me so happy to see more asexual representation! I also just love the way you write the characters! (P.S. maybe we could get some cameos from the also-asexual Alastor? Could be a fun dynamic!)

Ace buddies, lets goooo!

Headcanons for Ace Reader

Platonic: Angel Dust X Ace Reader

You're both chill. Sometimes he'll flirt with you but you know its all jokes.

No judgement. He does his thing and you do yours.

You go shopping together a lot. Picking out each others outfits or helping each other find the right accessories.

He'll tell you about his day, leaving out the details that you don't wanna hear.

The first time you met Angel was behind the bar in the alley way. He was pretty beat up and looked like a kicked puppy.

"Here.", you offered him a bottle of alcohol.

"The fuck is this for?", he takes the bottle with a scowl. "Do I look like someone who needs handouts!?"

"No.", you take out a box of mints and quickly pop one into your mouth. "But you do look like you wanna forget. At least a little bit."

He doesn't say anything else after that, opening the bottle.

Then the spider wouldn't leave you alone, dubbing you his new friend.

You're my friend now. We're having soft tacos later. Lol.

He grows on you and eventually you both end up at the Happy Hotel.

There's days you don't mind his weird shit but you step in when it gets too far or hurts friends.

Kinda like now.

"What the fuck Angel!?", you say after dragging him off to the side while Charlie stepped out. "Why would you do that? Don't you want to try and get out of this dump?"

"We don't even know if this shit fucking works. Why not mess around a bit?", he says and continues sucking the popsicle.

You sigh and rub the side of your forehead. "Its worth a damn try. Messing around is only gonna keep you here."

"Listen to your friend asshole.", Vaggie said and sat down on the couch.

"I listen..sometimes.", Angel says and goes over to the moth demon. "It wasn't that bad anyway."

You have to hold back from punching the idiot, lifting up your hands to make a point with your fingers that touches your nose. "Angel, It was so bad I was cringing. I don't cringe unless I remember my middle school years from when I was alive."

Then things get weird..

Some guy in red shows up, smiles and laughs about the great depression. A whole musical number and then some casual destruction of an airship.

Totally normal.

At some point "Red", you started calling the Radio Demon, walks over and asks you a question.

"Excuse me if this is inappropriate but are you and the arachnid together?"

"Together?", you raise a brow. "Did you lie about not being interested in my friend?", you ask.

"No.", he says quickly and scrunches his nose a bit.

You laugh. "Ace, got it."

Angel, who was sitting next to you, gasps and places his lower hands on his hips. "Am I not good enough?", he says to you in a joking tone.

"Honey, please. I would rather eat dirt than sleep with you.", you stick your tongue out. "Bleh."

"I'll have you know my dic-"

You quickly cover your ears. "I don't wanna know!"

~

Why can I imagine Angel trying to gross out their friend with work stories?

I'll get around to that oneshot sometime.

~Seline, the person.

ML for Angel Dust🕸

[toomuchracket]

my current brain rot ever since atpoaim is a fort date with matty!! however in my head the cute date eventually gets crashed by all the band and ends up with everyone crammed into the tiny fort.

like maybe it's at mattys house, and it's well known George just lets himself in, so he does and immediately sees the large fort in the living room and goes to investigate. he sees you and matty cuddled watching a movie in a sea of blankets and pillows so very unceremoniously flops on top of you both and the myriad of pillows. he works his way into the date somehow and is half watching the movie and half just watching you and matty being sickeningly cute and wondering if that's how him and Charli look.

about 20 mins later, there's a knock on the door, and you and matty are like??? but George just pipes up with "Oh, I invited Adam and Ross to the hangout. I hope that's okay!" and matty starts being like "this actually was a date before you barged in and-" but gets cut off by you saying its totally okay and he should go let them in. Adam feels slightly bad for barging in, but you assure him it's fine, and eventually, the 5 of you are all crammed under this fort cuddled up watching some sappy rom-com you convinced them to watch. it obviously starts with lots of complaints "ugh nooo" "whyyyy," "cmon, do we have to watch this chick flick?"" but eventually divulges into gasps at how bad the guy is and comments like "oh my god she needs to leave him" but also on the other hand they're like "well no because she fucked up too" and finally when the movie ends it is just 4 grown men trying to keep their emotions at bay after watching like enchanted or Notting hill lol

anyway sorry for rambling, domestic matty and the boys kills me off everytime

i can't believe you apologised for this omg i LOVE it!! it kinda feels like slightly older flatmate!matty and his girl to me. like say the boys are on a break from work, and matty's built this fort all cute and romantic for you guys to just chill in all cutely, and you're lazily making out in it when you hear the front door open and close and a gravelly voice go "yoohoo!"; george, bored as shit because charli's off working somewhere, coming round for some entertainment. fully creased at the image of all six foot whatever of him just flopping over you all snuggled into matty - i bet you'd be like "hi darling!" to him, genuinely happy to see him, while matty's all tetchy like "george what the FUCK" (but that's his bestie, so he lets him stay and watch, idk, lady bird (it's my fav film) or whatever with you). and the whole time, george is side-eyeing you and matty in the nicest way, thinking about himself and charli AND how you and matty used to cuddle watching films together even pre-dating but it's so lovely that you're so openly lovey-dovey in the same scenario now. and i think george had probably texted ross and adam to hang out before he came over to yours, and then when they agreed he was like "oh i'm actually at matty's" so they just rock up there; like you said, adam is guilt-stricken and very much like "oh my gosh i am so sorry for intruding i'll be on my way" - matty's like "yes that sounds like a good idea considering my girl and i were having a little DATE before you fuckers showed up" - but you're like "honestly don't worry about it. if you don't mind sitting through my movie choices you can stay". matty sighs, but is appeased when you kiss him quickly and smile sweetly at him, so it becomes the five of you all chilling on pillows in this fort watching the devil wears prada (they would fucking hate andy's boyfriend they really would). and they all complain when you say "oh my god let's watch enchanted" as you go back to the disney+ homescreen, but maybe you all share some alcohol or a joint and then they get really into the movie, gasping at the change from animation to live-action and making little comments throughout the film - i bet ross is SO bitchy about giselle's outfit for the ball lmfao. but yeah, you turn your head to look at them all as the credits roll, and try not to giggle at these huge (and matty) men either sniffling or just beaming happily at the film they just watched. and as much as you've had a nice time, matty kicks the other boys out shortly after this so he can romance you as he had planned to the whole evening (but as you hug them goodbye i think you're like "same time next week? we'll watch 27 dresses and the lizzie mcguire movie") lol <3

[actualtirefire]

Devang has like five kids, are you the child-free AU or what? any secret children hiding out anyplace or nah?

Yes.

No.

(( Roka does not like to be compared or related to Devang as an alternative self. lmao.

Also, the anti-fertility charms they have surgically implanted make it hard for them to get pregnant without direct intent to do so.

However, as Roka has found out (and Devang when Maya happened), doing a lot of illicit substances in high quantity can fuckle the effect of the charm.

Devang drank about THIS close to alcohol poisoning for her kind and Maya was conceived (with sid/shido). She panicked and didn't know what to do. Had a baby. Liam and Marl were both deliberate; She had the charm removed then placed back. Marlboro was, uh, sort of accidental, lol. She had sex with Charlie and Worth close together and her feline physiology went COOL LETS MAKE A MIXED LITTER. But, yeah, deliberate.

Roka was doing so much opium not too long ago, man. So much. And weed. And drinking. Sometimes all at once. Charlie got her pregnart. Roka had the support system to think it through and decided to abort. Charlie helped.

Roka has no secret children. And, currently, no desire for any. She's eased back on the recreationals--or at least doesn't get frisky while intoxicated anymore.

edit: looks at envy. idk how taika happened, but i assume sin based magical fuckery with the charm/"""dna donation""" lmao, probably. devang doesn't know about taika and falcata yet))