#devil dogs || muses

[demcndcgs]

//This is just a tag list

o lobo || paulo (images)

a raposa || paulo (text)

the moon is bright || nite rain (images)

paint the night || nite rain (text)

shine bright || starlight (images)

constelations || starlight (text)

boat 'yote || georgie (images)

down by the docks || georgie (text)

[dcggersedge]

🍪

Alear would have picked up a box of the biscuit sticks even if an overzealous classmate hadn’t all but pushed one into his hands first, though less for the game everyone else seemed to be playing with them today—was it some kind of yearly tradition? It had been a thing last year too—and more for just the treat itself despite having gone candy gathering mere weeks ago. That it’s already been that long is a good enough reason to indulge again...probably. Particularly when it’s not just for himself, the Divine Dragon beaming knowing full well she can see him coming from a mile away.

“There you are, Yunaka!” He’s already pried the box open and is holding it out for her to help herself when he gets close enough. “Here, since you gave me all your candy after the game Rafal and Poe hosted a while back. You can have as much as you like.”

One can easily picture his nonexistent tail wagging like a dog’s here, reminiscent of the monastery strays or the Elyosian breeds brought to the Somniel. He hasn’t said anything about the Pocky Game (yet), but nothing’s stopping that from changing...unless?

pocky day | accepting

It's hard not to see bright blue and red coming, especially when she's gotten back in the habit of always checking to see if he's around. She still waits and gives him the chance to speak first before she turns to him, smiling.

"Hi, Alear! Whatcha got?" Even after asking, it takes her only a second to recognize the little boxes of cookies that everyone seems to be going wild over. She has her own that she'd picked up as well, though hers is a lot less full than the fresh one Alear breaks open and offers to her.

She blinks in surprise at the offer before her eyes drift up to his face. Her smile softens. "Aw, you're sweet! You don't have to, you know? I told you from the get-go that I was going to try and snag you some extra candy." Rafal hardly needed that much help getting candy anyway, when he had his whole team and his hound cheating for him.

Still, she knows he'll insist. She reaches into the box and pulls out two of the cookies. One for herself, and the other she holds out to his mouth for him to take. "I don't have that much of a sweet tooth anyway." She's not sure if Alear does either, but with how much she's seen him eat in a single sitting, she's not sure if it matters.

She munches quietly on her own cookie. So. There's the obvious wyvern in the room. Except she's not sure if it's actually obvious or if he doesn't know because she hadn't known until Poe and Goldmary explained it to her but. Her face is already turning red.

"So, um." No, no no no, she's a better actress than to lose control of her voice so quickly like that. Reel it in. "There's a game. With the cookies." The cookies which are much easier to look at than him right now. She takes a larger bite out of the one she's almost finished. "Did. You. Hmm?" Divine help her, she sounds like a tea kettle.

[aamusedly]

♚ - put a hand on my muse’s knee while sitting next to them, to discourage them from standing up

Harker had caught him at a soft moment, but domesticity had become easier over the years for him. Out on the balcony, coffee in one hand, newspaper in the other. He was pushing through a crossword puzzle, fairly easily by the looks of it. It had been his therapist's suggestion, a way to exercise his brain daily both to curb his propensity towards overactivity and his getting rusty in his retirement. It seemed Dr. Morgan was one of the few people the Devil genuinely listened to.

The 'good morning' had been a smile and kiss to the cheek, but Devil had kept his silence as he paused in his puzzle and tapped his pen against the folded pages of the New York Times. His cup was empty.

It was an excuse to get up and stretch, and to of course get his wife some dark roast to match his own, but her hand stalled him. Amber eyes turned over, wreathed in fine lines of an age he couldn't come by honestly.

"The pot's gonna get cold, you know."

[warborn-tragedy]

Character Tags - ALBERT "ARARAT" EBBRELL

[warraigoe]

xxx.

—  ❛❛  //  makima.   ¦   the control devil.

—  ❛❛  //  makima.   ¦   life comes in a wide variety of flavors . ・ 「 in ! 」

—  ❛❛  //  makima.   ¦   i don’t need a dog that says no .  ・ 「 images ! 」

—  ❛❛  //  makima.   ¦   we’ll be working together ‘till death do us part . ・ 「 musings ! 」

[ddejavvu]

Could you do something for cat animangus reader x Sirius where they're older like order of the phenix older during winter time and Molly makes a comment to Sirius about him having a sweet cat and when he turns to corner he finds reader cuddled up to Remus again do to his body heat and Sirius just reacts to a "really this again?"

Things between Molly and Sirius are still frosty, but the same stuff that chills between them glazes over the windows, and the winter air serves as a healing balm while everyone huddles around the fire for warmth.

The heating systems in Grimmauld Place are functional, but ancient, and it's much easier to stay by a roaring fire than to huddle by the floor vent on one of the upper levels. Sirius has insisted, as the owner of the house and as the man unwillingly cooped up inside of it for years, that he will make the cocoa, because if he goes any longer without making himself useful he will begin yearning to touch the fatally cursed objects his mother hoarded before her demise.

Molly relents, if only to keep his callused hands away from a music box that will kill him if the tune reaches his ears.

"Oh, that's lovely," The woman coos, peering at your feline form curled up on Remus's lap in front of the fire, "Remus, I didn't know you had a cat. I thought the only one we had was Hermione's, but he's orange."

"She's not mine," Remus hums, though he drags a palm flat over your head, letting you butt into it to your own liking, "She's Sirius's."

Molly's brows scrunch; surely Remus doesn't mean the dog man that stands eerily alert at the back door whenever he hears the pitter patter of little paws on the back fence-? But when the aforementioned animagus comes into the room with a tray of cocoa, she confirms Remus's words straight from the source.

"Sirius, your cat is lovely." She muses experimentally, watching the way the man's eye twitches slightly.

"Oh? And where is the little devil-?" Sirius peers around the room, and when his gaze lands on you lounging on Remus's legs, he shoves the tea tray haphazardly onto a side table with a scoff. It makes a cacophony of sounds; most of them unpleasant as glass-on-glass tends to be, "Oh, you're joking."

"Sirius, it's warm here," Remus attempts to calm the man, but it's no use as he steals a mug of cocoa and makes a break for the staircase. You're glad to see that prison never took his flair for dramatics, but he's being a tad ridiculous. Remus keeps explaining, "You're welcome to take her if you want to sit by the fire! She's just getting warm!"

"Keep her! Keep her," Sirius calls from the ledge of the second floor, "And Moony, why don't you just take the deed to the house, too! And my things, you can steal the clothes right off of my back next time."

With a huff and a flourish that are aided by his chin-length curls, Sirius turns to beeline for his room, and the slam of a door that rattles the paintings on the wall is your confirmation that your husband will be sulking until you pad upstairs and settle on his chest.

"Well, that was fun while it lasted." Remus drawls, scooping a hand beneath your belly and hoisting you out of his lap. He sets you on your feet, and you mourn the loss of the fire's warmth.

"Go humor him, love," Remus nudges you towards the stairs, and Molly watches bewildered as you begin your ascent.

"We've been having this fight for over a decade," Remus muses, sipping at his cocoa and skillfully avoiding a whipped cream mustache, "When your children aren't eavesdropping with that extendable ear, I'll tell you about the time he found her curled up in my bed instead of his."

[sadnymi]

「 ✦ One of your girls .✦ 」

[Theodore Nott x reader]

Summary: Theodore Nott was the love of my life, the one I'd trade my whole world for. But this summer, I yearned for a different role in his life, even if it meant becoming just one of his girls

Warning:fluff,angst,smut, oral (f!received), fingering, lying about virginity,(+18)

Words:8k

In this world of labels there are , "good boys" and "bad boys," Theodore Nott existed in a category all his own. like devil in disguise, but manlier. And definitely hotter by like a thousand degrees .

As I stood there, captivated by his interaction with a Gryffindor girl, two stark realizations crashed over me. First, I desperately needed to refine my Marauder mischief skills. And More importantly, I needed to bridge the chasm between myself and Theodore. This summer, I wouldn't just be his little sister's best friend; I craved a different role in his life.

Lana's voice, sharp and cutting through my reverie, jolted me back to reality. "Y/N, are you with me?"

"Forgive me, my thoughts wandered," I muttered, composing myself with practiced neutrality.

“I was just saying, I really want Dad to approve this environmental camp," she continued, her enthusiasm undeterred.

"Absolutely," I agreed, forcing a smile. "Those Larus birds undeniably deserve all the protection we can offer." However, my gaze remained tethered to Theodore and his seemingly animated conversation with the Gryffindor girl.

"Right?" Lana beamed. "Perhaps Theo or Christian could help us sway Father?" Lana suggested hopefully.

"An excellent suggestion," I managed, a barbed comment forming on my tongue.

Perhaps your brother would engage in more productive activities than fraternizing with the Gryffindor girl. But I swallowed the retort.

"Christian can be a bit overprotective, bless his heart," Lana began, "but I do believe the 'puppy-dog eyes' technique, as he calls it, might work on Theo," Lana mused cheerfully.believe

A pang of curiosity shot through me. Could this "puppy eyes" technique be effective on Theo as well? I stifled the urge to inquire.

As if sensing my scrutiny, I almost choked on a gasp when he turned, our eyes locking for a beat too long. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, he resumed his conversation with the Gryffindor girl. My mind conjured elaborate – and disturbing – daydreams of her demise.

"Are you alright?" Lana's voice held a hint of worry.

"Perfect," I muttered, the word a lie heavy on my tongue. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the backdrop of my escalating jealousy.

"Then let's proceed," she declared, taking my hand in hers.

The world became a blur as we walked, the proximity to Theo and his unwelcome companion amplifying my agitation. My pulse pounded in my ears, a relentless drumbeat against the backdrop of muted classroom sounds.

Finally, we passed them. Still, Theo's gaze lingered on me, a silent connection that sent a wave of heat through my body. Just as abruptly, , Then in a move that stole the breath from my lungs, the Gryffindor girl cupped Theodore's jaw, pulling him down for a rough, aggressive kiss. I averted my eyes, a wave of nausea washing over me.

“ EWWW “ Lana muttered, mirroring my own disgust.

“Perhaps," I ventured, my voice tight with unspoken emotions, "you should utilize those puppy dog eyes sooner before he gets distracted again “

Potions became a blurry mess of bubbling cauldrons and swirling fumes. Snape's usual scathing commentary faded into the background, as my mind replayed the scene on loop: Theo, his lips locked with the Gryffindor girl, a stranger who somehow managed to snag his attention. Her triumphant smirk as she pulled away felt branded onto my eyelids.

Jealousy gnawed at me like a rogue Flobberworm. Every stolen glance his way felt like a betrayal, a secret message only I could decipher. Was this what Lana meant by "puppy eyes"? Because right now, all I wanted to do was unleash my inner dragon and set the damn girl ablaze.

The Great Hall echoed with the boisterous chatter of lunchtime. As I joined my friends at the Slytherin table, a familiar warmth washed over me – camaraderie, yes, but something more potent simmered beneath the surface. My stolen glance at Theo, however, sent a jolt of conflicting emotions. He was already there, his dark eyes locked on mine for a lingering moment before he averted his gaze.

A playful tug on my braid brought me back to reality. Lana, a mischievous glint in her eyes, was trying to get me out of my misery that she can’t quite understand what gets me into

Mattheo, being his usual blunt self, decided to stir up some trouble, "Just want to make sure the rumors are true. Did our little Y/N break Cedric Diggory's heart?"he said, causing Theo's gaze to intensify on me, igniting a mix of excitement and nervousness within me.

"Sorry, what?" I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.

"It's okay, y/n, we can see that you're at that age for those kinds of things. What puberty did to you can't go unnoticed,"

My cheeks burned a furious red. The air crackled with tension as Blaise's words hung in the air.

Before I could retort, a cold fury replaced Theo's usual nonchalance. "Shut the hell up, Zabini, before I make you."

His sharp tone silenced the table. I stole a glance at him, he looked relaxed despite his tone , his eyes locked in a silent battle with Blaise. And that was well- very awkward

Matteo, unfazed by Theo's outburst, pressed on. "Back to the broken heart thing, did you really ditch a date with Diggory?"

My cheeks burned under the scrutiny of the table. "It wasn't like that, he understood," I stammered, desperately trying to salvage the situation. "I just said I had to study."

Lana, oblivious to my boiling frustration, jumped in. "No, no, she's just being humble! Cedric was head over heels! He was moping around for days after she said no, his heart practically shattered. Still he can't seem to take his eyes off her today."

I shot her a glare that could curdle milk, but she just winked back, clearly enjoying the drama.

"Why'd you turn him down, then?" Blaise pressed, his amusement evident.

Theo, however, surprised everyone. "She's still too young for that," he muttered. Really? The audacity! My hand twitched, a silent promise of violence aimed at his handsome but infuriating face.

My temper flared. "First of all," I stated, fixing him with a hard stare, "I'm only a year younger than you. Second, I said no because it wouldn't be fair to either of us. I already have feelings for someone else."

A collective gasp rippled through the group.

"You never told me that!" Lana exclaimed, her eyes wide with surprise.

"No," I said, trying to project a confidence I didn't entirely feel. My gaze locked with Theo's, daring him to look away. "I was planning on telling you… tonight."

"Who is this mystery man?" Matteo leaned forward, his tone laced with curiosity. "Do we know him?"

"No, you don't," I lied smoothly, a flicker of defiance sparking in my chest. "He graduated."

A wave of disappointment washed over Blaise's face. "Oooh, Y/N, you sneaky minx! Who knew you had that in you?"

The Hogwarts Express rumbled to a halt, signaling the end of the semester and the glorious (or dreaded, depending on who you asked) freedom of summer. Bidding farewell to Lana, whose eyes held a knowing glint that made me sweat, I trudged off the train, eager to reach the familiar comfort of my own home.

Living just two houses away from Theo and Lana meant constant proximity, which could be either a blessing or a curse depending on how things unfolded. The lie about a mysterious older boyfriend sat heavy in my stomach. It was a desperate attempt to buy myself some breathing room, a chance to navigate the confusing maze of emotions swirling within me.

The oppressive heat of summer hung heavy in the air, mirroring the nervous knot in my stomach. Lana's father had finally approved the conservation camp, and while I was happy for her, a pang of disappointment shot through me. That meant less time to figure things out with Theo.

Taking a deep breath I slipped into a summer dress – the kind that hugged my curves perfectly and left a trail of cool air on my skin.

Taking a deep breath, I crossed the two houses separating our homes and knocked on Theo's door. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. What was I even doing here?

The door creaked open, revealing Mrs. Finch, the Nott family housekeeper, her face etched with surprise. "Miss Y/N? What a surprise! Mr. Theo is the only one home, I'm afraid. Miss Lana's still out."

My cheeks flushed crimson. This was not the grand entrance I'd envisioned. "Oh!" I feigned surprise. "Goodness, how forgetful of me. I just realized I left something in Lana's room. Terribly sorry to bother you, Mrs. Finch."

The housekeeper's expression softened. "No trouble at all, dear. Just head on up, third door on the right."

With a mumbled thank you, I practically sprinted up the stairs, my heart thundering in my chest. This impulsive, poorly-planned visit was already spiraling out of control. Would he see through my flimsy excuse? Most importantly, what was I going to say to him once I was alone with him under the guise of borrowing something from Lana?

The familiar chaos of Lana's room swam before my eyes. Clothes littered the floor, forgotten textbooks sat precariously on the desk,I don’t know why she insisted that no one else but her clean her room when she barley do it

"Are you lost?"

The sound of Theo's voice cut through the mental fog. I spun around, heart hammering against my ribs like a frantic hummingbird. He stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, his gaze lingering on me a beat too long.

And then, his eyes scanned me from head to toe, a slow, deliberate sweep that sent a jolt of heat straight to my core. Merlin's beard, I wanted to be on my knees (respectfully, of course). That summer dress, the impulsive visit - everything suddenly felt like a terrible, wonderful mistake.

"N-no," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. "I, uh, just came to… borrow something from Lana." The lie tasted like ashes in my mouth, but I couldn't bring myself to confess my real motive. Not yet, anyway.

Theo pushed himself off the doorframe, taking a slow step closer. The air crackled with a tension that had nothing to do with the summer heat. "Is that right?" he drawled, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine. His eye held an unreadable depth that made my breath hitch.

"Yes," I managed, forcing myself to meet his gaze. "She mentioned a book on… Larus migration patterns? I thought I might borrow it for some summer reading."

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement playing on his lips. "Larus migration patterns, huh? Sounds like a fascinating read for a summer day."

His words were laced with a double meaning, and a blush crept up my cheeks. Was he teasing me? Did he suspect my real reason for being here?

The silence stretched, thick and heavy. My carefully constructed plan was falling apart faster than a poorly brewed Amortentia potion. But before I could stammer out another excuse, Theo surprised me with a soft chuckle.

"Well," he drawled, his voice softer now, "since Lana's not here, perhaps I could help you find the book."

The breath caught in my throat. Here I was, caught red-handed (or rather, red-dressed), and yet, Theo's amusement was oddly disarming. His casual demeanor didn't quite match the intensity I'd glimpsed in his eyes moments ago.

"Really?" I squeaked, my voice barely above a whisper. The air crackled between us, charged with a sudden shift in energy.

A slow smirk played on his lips. "Yeah, why not? Did you want someone else to help you, maybe?"

He took a slow step forward, his presence filling the room. I instinctively leaned back, my back hitting the wall with a soft thud. A thrill shot through me as his eyes lingered on my face, a storm brewing beneath the surface.

"He's not here, though," he drawled, the amusement leaving his voice. "So bad."

Confusion clouded my mind. "He?" I stammered.

Theo's brows furrowed. "Oh, your older, hot crush? That's what you said, right? So you're here all dressed up and making excuses for nothing." The smile that had been playing on his lips vanished completely.

A wave of panic washed over me. "Are you kidding me?" I blurted out, unable to contain my frustration. Heat crept up my cheeks. "Are you that blind?" just then I realized the depth of my mistake. He thought my crush was Christopher, his own brother!

He was close now, so close I could feel the warmth radiating from his body. His hands braced themselves on either side of my face, caging me in. My breath caught in my throat.

"Trapped?" he murmured, his voice a low growl.

If looks could kill, I would have been dead. Theo's expression was a mix of anger, hurt, and confusion. I reached out hesitantly, my fingers brushing against his cheek. Thankfully, he didn't pull away.

"It's not Christopher," I whispered, my eyes darted drawn to the tempting curve of his lips.

"Oh yeah?" he challenged, his voice husky.

I couldn't hold back any longer. This was it. With a surge of desperation, I cupped his face with one hand, the other finding its way to the back of his neck and I kissed him.

It was a moment of pure, unadulterated passion. I was kissing Theo it wasn’t a dream , feeling the heat and intensity of the moment wash over me. My lips on his, our breaths mingling, it was my first kiss, but that fact faded into insignificance. He was the only thing that mattered.

Panic briefly gripped me when he didn't immediately respond to the kiss. I pulled away, searching his eyes for any sign of reciprocation, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Fuck," he muttered, pulling me closer, lifting me effortlessly until my legs were wrapped around his waist. His kiss this time was harder, more urgent, our bodies pressed against the wall as he devoured my lips.

It was a hungry kiss, filled with raw desire and longing. I moaned into his mouth, unable to contain the pleasure that surged through me. As his tongue sought entry, I responded eagerly, my hand finding its way to his shoulder, the other tangling in his hair. It felt intoxicatingly good, every touch sending sparks of pleasure coursing through me.

He didn't stop, his kisses growing more intense, more mind-blowing with each passing second. I felt myself teetering on the edge of something powerful, something I had never experienced before.

When he finally pulled away, our lips still touching, he whispered, "We shouldn't do that." I leaned in, wanting more, desperate to recapture the fire he had ignited within me. But this time, he stopped me with a gentle hand on my cheek.

"We shouldn't," he repeated, his words laced with a battle between desire and control.

" You ... don’t want this?" I asked, desperation creeping into my voice.

"Fucking hell," he muttered, before claiming my lips once more in a kiss that left me breathless and wanting more.

He kept kissing me, then his lips dipped lower, trailing a path of fire down my neck. Each touch ignited a new spark within me, a desperate need for more. But just as quickly, he pulled away, his hand clamping over my mouth the moment a moan escaped my lips.

He released me with a ragged breath, fingers brushing my lips – a touch that felt both accidental and deliberate. "Don't fucking let me do that again," he growled, his expression unreadable.

"Theo..." My voice trembled, a choked whisper lost in the deafening silence.

"Don't," he cut me off, his voice laced with a raw emotion that sent shivers down my spine.

I ignored him, the dam of my emotions threatening to burst. "No, Theo, I do like you so much! No, I think I love–"

He slammed his hand down on the nearest surface, the sharp crack echoing through the room. "Stop talking! Stop fucking talking and get out!"

My heart plummeted to my stomach. I stared at him, disbelief etching lines on my face. This couldn't be happening. This wasn't the answer I'd envisioned.

"I said, get out!" he roared, his voice raw with something akin to despair.

My body reacted before my mind could catch up. Fear, a primal and cold sensation, gripped me. I couldn't stay there, not with that look in his eyes. Tears blurring my vision, I turned and fled. I ran blindly out of the room, my feet pounding against the wooden floorboards. I didn't stop until I was out of the house, gasping for breath on the front porch steps. My legs felt like jelly, my vision obscured by a torrent of tears.

After four days of crying in my room, watching romcoms, and indulging in ice cream, I had practically shut myself off from the outside world. Ignoring calls and messages, I had no intention of leaving my room anytime soon.

But then, my phone started ringing, and the name that flashed on the screen caught my attention – Blaise Zabini. Why was he calling me? I debated whether to answer or not, but curiosity got the better of me.

"Hello?" I answered tentatively.

"Hello, beautiful lady. What are you doing tonight?" Blaise's smooth voice flowed through the phone, surprising me.

"Did you mistake my number for someone else?" I asked, slightly bewildered.

Blaise chuckled. "No, Y/N, I'm calling you. There's a party tonight, and you should come."

I couldn't believe it. Blaise inviting me to a party? It seemed surreal, especially considering how distant I had been lately. "Is this some kind of dare?" I half-jokingly asked, recalling how Lana and I had once begged to be included in their circle last year.

"No, of course not. Lana is away at camp, and I figured you must be bored. Plus, you're old enough now. So, are you coming?" Blaise explained.

I was shocked but managed to say, "Yes."

"Good, I'll pick you up," he said confidently.

"Um, what should I wear?" I asked, feeling a bit out of my depth.

"Something hot for sure," Blaise replied, causing my mouth to drop open. Surely, there must be more to it than just small talk and an unexpected invitation.

I dragged myself out of bed, feeling a bit more alive than I had in days. The prospect of going out, even to a party, was both daunting and oddly exciting. I made my way to the bathroom, deciding that a hot shower would do wonders for my mood.

The water cascaded down my skin, washing away some of the heaviness that had settled over me. I washed my hair, taking extra care to make it look presentable. After all, Blaise had mentioned something about looking hot, and I wanted to at least make an effort.

Once out of the shower, I wrapped myself in a fluffy towel and stood in front of the mirror, contemplating my options. My wardrobe seemed to mock me with its array of dresses, each one a reminder of happier times. But tonight was different. I wanted to feel good, even if just for a few hours.

My eyes settled on a vibrant off-shoulder red dress, short enough to be playful yet elegant. It had been a while since I'd worn something so bold, but tonight felt like the perfect occasion. Slipping into the dress, I couldn't help but admire how it hugged my curves in all the right places.

With my hair styled in loose waves cascading down my shoulders, I turned to my makeup. Opting for a subtle smokey eye and a bold red lip to match the dress, I added a touch of highlighter to give my skin a healthy glow.

Just as I finished applying the last stroke of mascara, my phone rang again. It was Blaise, letting me know that he was waiting outside. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed my purse and headed out.

A slow smirk spread across Blaise's face as he took in my entire outfit. "Damn, Y/N," he said, his voice dropping a cool octave. "You look goodness. Tonight, you're not just breaking hearts, you're shattering them."

"Thanks," I managed, trying to project an air of confidence I wasn't entirely sure I possessed.

The drive to the bar was a blur of conversation and upbeat music. Blaise gave me a heads-up that this was a different scene than the usual hangouts Lana and I frequented. No sticky floors or questionable punch here. This place oozed sophistication with a healthy dose of trendy vibes.

The closer we got, the bigger the butterflies became. "Just a heads-up," Blaise said casually, "Theo's gonna be there."

My eyes widened like headlights caught on high beams. "Why are you telling me this?" I blurted, my voice shaky.

Blaise held up his hands in mock surrender. "Whoa there, little firecracker. Easy now. Listen, I know what happened," he said, his tone gentle but firm.

He paused, his gaze meeting mine in the rearview mirror. "You've got two choices tonight," he continued, his voice low and serious. "Option one: Go in there, drown your sorrows in overpriced cocktails, and cry yourself to sleep like you have been for the past week. Option two: You walk in that door, head held high, and have the best damn night of your life. Show him what a colossal mistake he made. But more importantly, have fun. Forget Theo for the night. You deserve it."

My initial suspicion flared. How did Blaise know about Theo? Did Theo tell everyone, maybe even paint some twisted narrative of what happened? The worst-case scenario played in my head: everyone knowing I'd forced myself on him. I pushed those thoughts down, refusing to let them take root.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" I asked, my voice laced with a hint of suspicion.

Blaise raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. "Oh, the nerve! Here I am, trying to be the ever-so-charming host, and you accuse me of… niceness?" He placed a hand dramatically over his chest. "Honestly, Y/N, I'm deeply wounded."

I couldn't help but laugh, the sound light and genuine. It felt good, a welcome change from the constant ache in my chest. As we pulled into the bar's crowded parking lot, I spotted a familiar face – the Gryffindor girl from school, the one with a permanent case of RBF.

Suddenly, the prospect of a night out filled with new faces and zero Theo drama seemed a whole lot more appealing.

"Alright," I announced, a determined glint in my eyes. "Going inside and having fun sounds way better."

Blaise's smirk widened. "Now you're talking," he said, finally pulling the car to a stop. "Let's do this."

We pushed through the heavy bar doors, the sudden wave of loud music and flashing lights hitting me like a physical blow. My eyes squinted against the assault, struggling to adjust to the dim, pulsing atmosphere. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, spilled alcohol, and something vaguely floral that I couldn't quite identify.

Then I saw it.

Bodies. Everywhere bodies. Couples intertwined on couches, limbs tangled in a way that left little to the imagination. People grinding against each other on the dance floor, clothes barely clinging to their sweaty forms. My mouth fell open in a silent scream.

"Are you kidding me, Blaise?" I shrieked, my voice barely audible over the pounding music. "Did you invite me to an orgy ?"

Blaise chuckled, his earlier cool persona replaced by something a little more… suggestive. "Not quite, sweetheart," he drawled. "But if you're interested, I know a guy…"

Blaise winked, then turned his attention to a group of women across the room. My stomach churned. Had he brought me here just to ditch me?

"Where are you going?" I demanded, grabbing his arm before he could slink away.

He looked back at me, a sly smile playing on his lips. "You wouldn't want to know, sweetheart. Trust me." Before I could argue, he was weaving his way through the crowd, leaving me stranded in a sea of strangers.

Panic clawed at my throat. I was completely out of my element, suffocated by the throbbing music and the overt displays of affection. Trying to navigate the throng of people felt like trying to walk through a mosh pit. Elbows jabbed, drinks sloshed, and muttered curses collided with the music. Every step forward felt like a battle.

Just when I was on the verge of tears, a familiar voice cut through the din.

"Y/N? Is that you?"

I snapped my head towards the source of the sound, relief washing over me like a tidal wave. There, standing a few feet away, was Cedric Diggory, a friendly face from Hogwarts. He looked as surprised to see me as I was to see him.

"Oh, thank God!" I exclaimed, practically throwing myself at him. He caught me with a smile, a steady presence in the swirling chaos.

"What are you doing here?" I blurted out, clinging to him like a lifeline. "I came with Blaise, but… well, he kinda ditched me."

Cedric's smile faltered slightly, but he recovered quickly. "Don't worry about him," he said reassuringly. "I can take you home if you want."

The offer was tempting, a safe haven from the overwhelming sensory overload. But then my gaze fell across the crowded room, landing on Theo. He was… well, making out with someone. Not just anyone, but two someones. His hands were everywhere, his lips moving feverishly between two very enthusiastic girls.

The sight of him sent a fresh wave of anger and hurt coursing through me. I wanted to scream, to cry, to set the whole place on fire. But instead, I did something completely unexpected.

"Actually," I said, my voice surprisingly steady, "Do you want to dance?"

A slow smile spread across my face as Cedric offered his hand. Relief momentarily eclipsed the anger simmering beneath the surface. He led me onto the dance floor, his touch light and hesitant on my waist. Compared to Theo's rough possessiveness, it felt… foreign.

"Theodora Nott," I muttered under my breath, the name a bitter curse on my tongue. Every fiber of my being ached to tear my gaze away from Theo.

Cedric's breath tickled my ear as he spoke, but my mind was elsewhere. Then, our eyes met. Theo's. His face contorted in a mixture of surprise and disbelief, like he'd seen a ghost.

Theo seemed momentarily speechless, his jaw clenched tight. Then, in a move that surprised even me, he shoved the two girls aside, their confused faces momentarily forgotten. He barged his way through the crowd, a determined scowl on his face.

"Diggory," he spat, his voice laced with venom.

"Nott," Cedric replied, a flicker of confusion crossing his features.

"Think I can take this from here?" Theo said, his gaze never leaving mine. "Thanks for keeping Y/N company."

Cedric glanced between us, a hesitant frown creasing his brow. Knowing I needed to act fast, I plastered a sickly sweet smile on my face.

"It's alright, Cedric," I chirped, my voice dripping with fake sincerity. "Theo's here now, and you know, practically like a brother to me."

Theo's jaw clenched tight, his anger barely contained. It fueled a fire within me, a perverse satisfaction at seeing him squirm. Cedric, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension, simply nodded and melted back into the crowd.

As soon as he was out of sight, I reached out and lightly touched Theo's arm. "Hello, brother," I purred, the word laced with mockery. "Enjoying yourself?"

He swatted my hand away, his voice tight with irritation. "What the hell do you think you're doing here?"

"Dancing, drinking, you know ," I replied, my voice light and carefree. "Hopefully getting some… you know, without having to share." I couldn't resist adding a pointed jab at his earlier display of affection.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "That's not the right answer, Y/N."

"Oh, so now you're the authority on what's right and wrong?" I scoffed. "Just get lost and let me enjoy my night."

"Not happening," he growled, stepping closer. For a fleeting moment, I swear his eyes flickered to my lips, sending a tremor of something unexpected through me.

"Not happening," he countered, his eyes flickering towards my lips for a fleeting moment.

A shiver ran down my spine, but I refused to let it show. "So you get to have fun, but I can't? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you were having a blast with your little… (here I paused, searching for the perfect comedic insult) …buffet." I forced a smile, pushing myself away from him in a playful, yet firm, manner.

He didn't get a chance to retort before a gasp escaped my lips. A clumsy dancer, fueled by who-knows-what concoction, careened into me, spilling the entirety of his drink down my dress. The scarlet fabric clung to my body like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination.

Theo let out a frustrated curse under his breath. "Damn it, Y/N, and your damn stubborn red dresses ," he muttered, before grabbing my arm and pulling me away from the crowd. His gaze darted around frantically, before settling on a nearby staircase.

The world spun a little faster as Theo pulled me through the crowd, his grip tight on my arm. We navigated through bodies and flashing lights, finally ending up near a darkened stairway leading upwards. He pushed open a door, revealing a large, beautifully furnished room – a stark contrast to the party raging outside.

"Stay here," he instructed, his voice low and urgent.

I rolled my eyes, annoyed at his bossiness but strangely comforted by his protectiveness.My mind was still reeling from the sudden alcohol shower, my thoughts fuzzy and disconnected.

Theo's presence alone was overwhelming. All the anger, hurt, and confusion I'd been feeling seemed to coalesce into a potent cocktail of emotions. My mind, however, wasn't processing things clearly. The red dress clinging to my body, the sting of Theo's earlier words, the memory of seeing him with those girls – it all swirled together in a chaotic mess.

Ignoring the instruction to stay put, I crossed the room and locked the door with a satisfying click. Grasping the hem of the ruined dress, I ripped it upwards in one swift motion. There, standing before a giant mirror, was me in all my red lace glory – bra and panties matching the ruined dress.

Theo stepped in, a black t-shirt clutched in his hand. His gaze locked with mine, a slow burn spreading across his face. He scanned me from head to toe, his eyes lingering on the shocking red lace bra and matching panties that were now my only attire.

For a moment, the room seemed to shrink, the music fading into a distant hum. The air crackled with a tension that sent a jolt of electricity through me.

"You're drunk, aren't you?" he finally managed, his voice rough with a mix of concern and something else – something deeper.

The question snapped me out of my haze. A defiant chuckle escaped my lips. "Not a single Shot," I replied, my voice surprisingly steady as I walked towards him.

The t-shirt fluttered to the floor, forgotten. His eyes were fixed on me, his face a mask of conflicting emotions. I stopped just inches from him, tilting my head up to meet his gaze.

"What are you doing?" he whispered, his face just inches from mine. The heat of his body radiated against mine, intensifying the buzz in my head.

"We don't have to be in love," I slurred, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. A part of me knew this was insane, But another part just craved his attention, his touch.

All I craved was his attention, his touch.

"I just wanna be… one of your girls tonight," I continued, my voice barely above a whisper. A shiver ran down my spine as the reality of my words hit me. Was I really saying this? But then I remembered Theo with those other girls, the way they would whisper about him at school, the way they boasted about their "experiences" with him.

Suddenly, a strange sense of defiance mixed with a simmering desire fueled my next words. "I want what you give them," I confessed, my eyes locked on his. "The kind of thing they brag about to their friends for years."

He reached out, a single finger brushing against my cheek. My breath hitched at the contact.

"Give me tough love don’t hold back," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. "Push me, choke me. Show me what it's like to be… yours even if it’s just for a night ." My voice dropped even lower. "Anything," I whispered, "just don't pretend you don't want me."

My words hung heavy in the air, the audacity of them making my cheeks burn. But before I could even think about backtracking, Theo surged forward, scooping me up into his arms. A gasp escaped my lips as he pulled me close, the familiar scent of his cologne washing over me.

He lifted me, wrapping my legs around his waist as he pulled me close. My hands instinctively found purchase on his broad shoulders, the heat radiating through his shirt setting my skin alight.

"That's wrong," he rasped, his lips brushing dangerously close to mine.

"It's not," I insisted, the defiance laced with a desperate plea.

He didn't answer. Instead, he kissed me. It was a hard kiss, desperate and hungry, as if he was trying to erase everything that had come between us. My body melted against his, all thoughts fleeing my mind except for the fierce press of his lips against mine.

He carried me across the room, depositing me onto a large table. pulled away after what felt like an eternity, his eyes blazing with an intensity that sent a tremor through me. He pushed a stray strand of hair from my face, his eyes searching mine. "I'd hold onto something, if I were you." he murmured, his voice thick with possessiveness that both terrified and excited me.

My fingers brushed against his face, his warm breath ghosting over my lips as he leaned down.

His hand moved down my body, a slow, deliberate caress that sent shivers erupting across my skin. His fingers grazed my thighs, a light touch that somehow managed to ignite a fire within me. My breath hitched, a moan escaping my lips as desire battled with the remnants of reason.

His lips brushed against my ear, his voice a husky whisper against my sensitive skin. "Choose a word," he murmured, his breath sending shivers down my spine.

I nodded numbly, unsure if I would even be able to speak if I needed to.

"Red," I managed to whisper, my voice laced with desire as his lips trailed along my neck, eliciting a soft moan from deep within me.

"Fucking red again," he muttered, his lips pressing against my skin with a hunger that ignited a fire within me. I arched my neck, offering him more access, more of me.

"You use this if it gets too much, understood?" he said, his voice commanding. I nodded eagerly.

He continued to kiss my jaw and neck with an intensity that left me breathless. My hand tangled in his hair, urging him closer. When he bit down on a sensitive spot on my neck, I couldn't contain a scream of pleasure.

His hand cupped my core through my panties, and I instinctively gripped his shoulder, my body responding to his touch. I had never experienced anything like this before, but I couldn't admit that to him.

"Have you done anything like this before?" he asked, his breath hot against my earlobe. I moaned softly as I lied, nodding in response.

"Yes," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the rush of sensations.

He parted my legs forcefully and held my jaw in his hand, locking eyes with mine. "You did?" he questioned, a hint of possessiveness in his tone.

I nodded again, unable to speak as desire coursed through me.

"He's dead, whoever he is," he declared, sending a shiver down my spine. His fingers slipped inside my panties, and I gasped at the sudden intimacy, my body responding eagerly to his touch.

"Theo," I managed to gasp out, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Yes, baby?" he responds, his voice deep and husky. The way he says "baby" sends shivers down my spine. It feels too good, too right, felt like a sweet caress to my soul.

"You can do whatever you want to me," i whispered, my fingers tracing his jawline. "Anything."

He responds by parting my lips with his finger leaning down to take my lower lips into his kiss. It's so soft, so gentle, that I feel like I've been transported to heaven. His tongue enters my mouth at the same time he touches my clit, and I moan.

He rubs my clit in gentle circles, and I hold onto his shoulder, digging my nails into his skin. He pulls away from the kiss, my lips are still on his, and I moan into his mouth. His tongue continues to explore mine as his fingers work their magic.

"Oh Merlin," I cry out, and he smiles against my cheek.

"Not Merlin, baby, but me," he whispered against my cheek, his touch sending me spiraling further into ecstasy. He added a finger inside me, and I cried out, my back arching with pleasure.

"Fuck, you're so tight. You sure you've done this before?" he questioned, a hint of disbelief in his voice. I've done this before, in my dreams, with him. I bite my lip to keep from moaning too loudly, and he looks displeased with that.

"Keep making those sounds, I love the sound of your voice," he says, and I do it again. He stops kissing me” you did that again and i stop, understood? “ I nodded immediately.

He’s not done yet. He pushed my bra strap down, placing kisses along the exposed skin.

His fingers start to move faster, as he kissed me, swallowing all my moans. He adds another finger, and I scream, my back arching again.

I bite my lips without even noticing and he slowed his movements I hold onto his hand fast, afraid he'll stop.

"Please don't stop, I'll be good, I promise," I beg, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Fuck, say it again," his gaze intense with desire.

"I'll be good, Theo," I repeated, my voice a desperate plea.

He moves his fingers faster in response, hitting a spot inside me that makes me see stars. He keeps hitting it, over and over again, while circling my clit.

"I'm going to--" I try to say, but I can't finish my sentence. Pleasure consumes me, and I scream his name. He plays with my hair, pushing my tears and hair away from my face.

"I know, sweet girl," he murmured, his words pushing me over the edge into a mind-blowing orgasm."So sweet, so good."

He watched me with intense desire as I came, his fingers never ceasing their movements. "And so fucking hot," he added as he looked at me while experiencing his own release.

“you look so pretty when you’re cumming for me,” he murmured, placing soft kisses on my neck

I breathed heavily as he pulled his hands from me, bringing his fingers to his mouth and savoring my cum. "You taste so sweet, baby," he murmured, his gaze locked on mine.

He cupped my face, placing soft kisses on my lips, again and again. "So sweet, so angelic,"

With a gentle touch, he lifted me from the table, carrying me softly and placing me on the bed. His face was close to mine, his nose brushing against mine, and he kissed me deeply. I moaned as he opened my bra clips, leaning down to place a soft kiss on my jawline, then my collarbone.

He traced his way down, kissing every inch of my body until he reached my breasts. I closed my eyes as he put a soft kiss on them, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Eyes on me, baby. Don't shut them," he commanded, and I nodded, my breath heavy. I looked at him, my love for him overwhelming.

With each lick and kiss, I moaned louder, the pleasure building with every touch, and I arched my back, my fingers gripping the sheets.

With a final lick, he traced his way down, kissing every inch of my body. He kissed my stomach and looked up at me, his gaze intense.

He parted my legs, the sight of him between them is my idea of heaven. I nodded, and he pulled my panties down.

As he pulled my panties down, I felt a rush of shyness,"You will keep them open," he said, and I nodded again , my breath hitching.

"Good girl," he praised, his lips trailing kisses along my thighs. I couldn't resist running my fingers through his soft hair, pushing it from his face.

"You want rough love, you say?" he stated, using my own words against me.

"Yes," I moaned, my mouth gasping as I felt his mouth on my wet pussy.

"And you keep listening to what those girls say?" he asked.

"Yes, and it hurts," I managed to say.

"So I have to make up for it then, baby, don't you think?" he asked,

He didn't waste time. His tongue explored my folds, and it felt strange but in a good way. He licked and sucked, and I felt like I might explode.

He kept doing it, for what felt like an eternity. He kept my legs open, and my back ached. I cried heavily, it was the best thing I had ever felt. I could feel my body already over the edge.

"Don't cum," he said, and I shook my head. He continued eating me out, so much. I could feel his fingers inside me, and I screamed again.

"Please," I begged, unable to resist the overwhelming pleasure he was giving me.

"You cum, and it's over," he warned, his finger entering me gently.

I held onto his shoulder tightly, my body teetering on the edge. "Say the word, and I'll stop," he offered.

But I couldn't bring myself to say it. "No," I managed to whisper, my voice filled with need and desire.

His tongue flicked my clit, and I felt my orgasm building. I screamed his name, and he kept going, pushing me further and further over the edge. I screamed again, and again, and again. I couldn't take it anymore, and I came hard, my body shaking with the force of it.

He looked up at me, his lips glistening with my juices.

I was still trying to catch my breath from what just happened as Theo's words registered in my mind. "You are a virgin," he said, and I shook my head fast, trying to dispel the shock.

"No, no, I'm not. The boys I've been with before weren't experienced," I managed to say, feeling a rush of embarrassment at my slip of words. Why did I say "boys"?

Theo's gaze held fire as he processed my words. "Boys?" he repeated, his voice tinged with something I couldn't quite decipher.

I immediately felt the need to defend myself. "You don't think I'm attractive enough to be with more than one boy in my life?" I asked, a hint of defiance in my tone.

"Quite the opposite," he assured me, but his expression remained serious. "I want to know who dared and did that," he added, his eyes searching mine.

I bit my lip nervously, realizing the implications of what I had unintentionally revealed. Boys were afraid to pursue Lana because of Theo's reputation, but the way he reacted made me wonder if he wasn't threatening the boys for just getting close to lana .

"You can't just control who I can be with, Theo," I said, surprised at my own boldness.

"I think I can," he asserted firmly.

I took a breath, trying to calm the tension that crackled between us. "I won't mind," I said softly, my voice pleading. "I would do anything to please you. I would do anything you ask me to."

"Stop talking like that, y/n," he ordered, his tone strained.

"Okay," I acquiesced, sensing that I had crossed a line.

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath, clearly struggling with his own emotions.

I reached out and touched his hand that was on my face, trying to ease the tension. I smiled while kissing his hand, then surprised both of us by putting one of his fingers inside my mouth and sucking on it gently.

"You are going to be the death of me," he muttered, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

"I need you, Theo, all of you, even just for the night, please," I pleaded, desperate for him to understand.

"Don't cry, unless it's from the pleasure I give you," he said, brushing away my tears gently.

I propped myself up on my elbow to get closer to him, craving his touch and his reassurance. He kissed me again, and in that moment, I felt like I could live in this bliss forever.

He reached for a condom, and I tried not to show my nerves as he prepared himself. His size was daunting, and I couldn't help but wonder how it would fit inside me. My head hit the pillow again as he spread my legs, his hardness teasing my entrance.

He entered me slowly, and I cried out as the pain shot through me, tears streaming down my face. "You are a fucking virgin," he exclaimed, his own frustration evident.

"It's not a fucking game, y/n," he continued, his tone softer but still edged with tension.

"I'm sorry, please do something," I pleaded, feeling overwhelmed.

He wiped my tears away, his features softening. "Fuck, baby, don't cry. It will get better, I promise. Just relax," he reassured me, his voice soothing.

"Breathe, it's just me," he added, placing kisses on my forehead and then my cheek.

"I think... I think you can move now, please," I managed to say, trying to regain my composure.

He held my face in his hand while the other supported him as he moved slowly, allowing me to adjust to him. I closed my eyes, focusing on the pleasure and the connection between us.

"You want fast, I can take it," I said, unsure if I was ready but wanting to prove myself to him.

"It's not a competition, y/n. You don't have to prove anything, baby,"

"The girls you've been with, they must have..." I started to say, but he cut me off.

"They didn't matter. You do," he said, surprising both of us with his confession.

He settled into a rhythm that felt perfect, and I closed my eyes, reveling in the sensations. His thrusts ranged from slow and tender to fast and intense, driving me wild with pleasure.

"Talk to me," he urged, and I struggled to form coherent sentences amidst the pleasure.

"It feels... good," I managed to say, my words coming out in fragmented breaths.

"Yeah?" he questioned, and I nodded, unable to articulate just how amazing it felt.

He increased his pace, and I arched my back, meeting his movements eagerly. "What about this?" he asked, his touch sending waves of pleasure through me.

"Do it again," I begged, wanting more of him, more of this intense pleasure.

He obliged, and the pleasure intensified, pushing me closer to the edge of ecstasy. I moaned and cried out his name, lost in the sensations that only he could evoke.

He thrust a few more times, then finally reached his own peak, his body collapsing slightly against mine as we both caught our breaths.

After a moment, he pulled out and disposed of the condom, then lay beside me.

Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. I was afraid to talk afraid to ruin what we just had, My hand hovered in the air, reaching for his face, but Theo stopped me, his grip surprisingly tight on my wrist.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drum solo against the backdrop of my racing thoughts. Please, no. Not the cold shoulder again.

" The- Theo," I whispered, my voice trembling, but he pushed my hand away before I could say more. His sudden change left me feeling lost and vulnerable, like I had done something terribly wrong.

"You… sore?" he finally spoke, his voice strained.

I blinked, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. The Theo who had been making love to me just minutes ago seemed to have vanished. This was the cold, distant Theo I knew all too well.

"A little," I managed to whisper, my voice cracking.

"Then get dressed," he said curtly. "I'm taking you home. Your big night is over." his words cutting through me like knives. I tried to speak, to explain, but he silenced me with a stern command. "Not a word, y/n. Not a fucking word."

He got out of bed and started putting on his clothes, tossing a t-shirt and his jacket in my direction. As he grabbed my phone and things, I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces. It was as if everything we had shared meant nothing to him.

As shaky legs carried me to my feet, I pulled on the clothes, tears blurring my vision. A choked sob escaped my lips, and another, and another.

"Congratulations, Y/N," I whispered to myself, my voice raw with emotion. "You're officially one of his girls."

"Congratulations, y/n. You’re officially one of the girls," he remarked, his words cutting deep into my already wounded heart.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Part2

[504py]

Scalding-Hot Steel - Knight!Leon Kennedy/Reader

He finally lets you try on his armor.

I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO GET OUT!!! 😭😭😭😭🙏🙏 i got caught in a bit of a slump, but i hope this can make up for it, and that this was worth the wait!! the chapter after this might be the finale, so i may take even longer to get to it. nonetheless, thank you to everyone who's been reading till now, and thank you all for 600 followers!!!

Historical inaccuracies, I suck at old-timey speak, reader referred to as "my lady" but no other gendered terms or descriptors besides that, no use of Y/N, Leon is a total puppy, mutual pining.

1, 2, 3

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You're unsure what it was, but following that interaction at the library, you and Leon have grown closer.

This upgrade in your relationship has made you be able to relax more in his presence, now that you see him as more friend than foe. Well, to call him a foe was a gargantuan exaggeration, but you did find him intimidating. You still do sometimes.

Even if you've backed off and retired your old obsessive habit of being way too observant about every single little detail about Leon, you can't help but still notice how it seems like your roles have been swapped.

Leon has begun to follow you around like a dog, to put it simply.

You swear it's not just you fixating on him, you really have started seeing him around much more often. He's started waiting by your door to greet you a good morning with a small smile, before heading to the courtyard. During lunchtime, he's begun to engage in smalltalk with you, talking about mundane things like the weather, or your schedule for the day. He's especially chatty if he learns he's going to be part of it. At night, when his usual routine would be to simply see you off at your bedroom door and say goodnight, now he sits by your bedside and talks about anything 'till it lulls you to sleep. He'd be mortified if you knew how long he stayed after you've dozed off.

Leon has begun studying you, in return. He likes to think that he's observant, but that usually only applies to combat, or if he's been trained beforehand on the matter. With people, he's never really had much luck reading them, unless it's too obvious for it to even be called "observing."

Leon admires that about you, how keen your eyes always are. He wonders if you're as drawn into his quirks as he is with yours. If you were, he envies your ability to drink in information so tactfully. If the devil were in the details– in your details, Leon would love to become a sinner.

His attempts in learning more about you were painfully amateurish. Even if Leon were a great tutor, a great protector, a great fighter, he tends to be terrible at holding conversation.

"My lady–"

"I told you to stop calling me that." You sigh and roll your eyes playfully.

"Sorry." He huffs your name bashfully, drawing closer towards you. You look up at him, and he drinks in the sight before you're squinting slightly at the rays of sun attacking you from behind his head.

"Please step into the shade, milady." He insists, holding his hand out for you to place yours on, before leading you underneath a large tree.

"There you are again, Sir Leon." You laugh, resting your back against the smooth bark of the tree.

"Hey, I asked you to forgo the titles as well." He muses, noticing you were still straining your eyes slightly, so he steps in front of the sun. It makes your face relax, and once again, he realizes keeping you happy and protecting you brings him fulfillment like no other.

"Just doing the same as you are, Sir Leon, since you won't drop mine." Chuckling, you sit down on the plush grass and wait for him to follow.

He smiles and breathes out a laugh, setting down the picnic basket in front of you. Leon wants to sit beside you, but then his back wouldn't be there to shield you from the sun. He sits where he is.

"Alright, I'm sorry." He says, almost jokingly. Saying your name out loud makes him feel shy, like saying the name of a god. It feels almost forbidden to be molded by his tongue, but you always invite him to say it, and the intimacy makes his heart race every single time he dares to. He mumbles it quietly again, getting a high from it.

You look beautiful. He thought that from the day he first met you, but the closer you two have gotten, the more and more he finds himself thinking that, and even more does it make his heart ache in his chest. In the shade under this tree, windy summer day illuminating the soft curves of your face so enchantingly, Leon can't help but look like a bit of an idiot drinking the sight in.

"Are you feeling hot?"

His eyes look at your lips first, ears registering your voice second. He closes his mouth, realizing it's been hanging slightly agape.

"I, uh, no– no, I'm feeling alright, my–"

You tilt your head down, and send him a playful warning glare. He stops in his tracks and looks down for a second, smiling breathily.

"I'm alright."

"Really? Your head tilts to the right this time, and Leon's heart skips a beat at how adorable he finds the gesture. "That armor you're wearing looks pretty hot. Can't you take it off?"

"It's only chainmail." He reassures, taking off his helmet and combing a hand through his flattened hair, "The helmet is a little troublesome, though."

You chirp, "I can imagine." before you open up the picnic basket in front of you and start rummaging through it.

Leon watches you munch on some biscuits for a bit, before his eyes flit back to the helmet by his side. "...Some time ago, you said you had wanted to try on my armor."

He says this mid-chew, so you hurry to get your food down so you can respond, "Oh, you remembered?" You wipe away a few crumbs from your lip, Leon finds the act charming, and it makes him smile softly. You continue, "Mm, yes, I did. Why bring it up?"

"Well," Leon holds up his helmet, "Would you like to try it on now?"

The way your eyes light up can't help but force a boyish, giddy grin on Leon's face. It feels strange and his cheeks feel weird, he can't really remember the last time he's smiled this hard. It does scare him a little, how foreign it is, but the feeling is so, so welcomed.

"Of course! Are you joking?" You put the snacks in your hands away, and move the basket to the side so you can inch closer to Leon. The feeling of your legs touching make butterflies take flight in his stomach.

"I-I'm not– I–" He's sputtering and he finds his brain struggling to function at being so flustered.

"Calm down, Leon." You laugh heartily. He wonders if you know the effect you have on him, but with how darn observant you are, he's sure that you're well aware what you do to him. It makes his cheeks burn red and glare at you with a kittenish frown. He wishes he could be more suave about his feelings towards you.

"I will once you stop making me so flustered." Leon huffs, hoping that wasn't too bold of a thing to say. His cheeks burn deeper. His eyebrows lower at your surprised look.

"Do I now?"

"W-Well– See, you're doing it again!" Leon groans, letting go of his helmet to hide his flushed face in his broad hands and whine. His ears turn red at the sound of your hearty laugh.

"Well, it's only fair that I do it to you too."

"Too?"

Your face warms, realizing what you've revealed. Leon grins, elated at the mere implication that he makes you feel the same way.

"Y-You've noticed, haven't you? In the library, you asked why I felt so uncomfortable around you."

"You didn't exactly answer... I thought it was because you disliked me."

"...Now you know that I clearly don't. We get along rather well, don't we?"

He's beaming at you, and it's not just the sun shining on him, it looks like he's literally glowing with serenity and love.

"We do, my lady."

"Leon!" You interject him calling you by your formal title.

He can't seem to let the title go, because in his mind, it's more of a pet name than a title. A term of endearment. Leon clings to the "my" part of the title, he liked the tiniest hint that you could be his. My lady, my lover, my sweetheart, mine.

Leon giggles, and he pauses for a moment after, realizing he can't remember the last time he's let out such a noise. He gazes upon you in awe, amazed at how you were able to bring out this side of him.

"What is it?"

Leon blinks, getting drawn out of his haze and shaking his head dismissively. He keeps his soft gaze on you, though.

The pads of his fingers rest on his helmet, feeling the ridges of it. Maybe it was too rough for someone he deemed as delicate as you. His eyes lower and rest on the piece of armor, noting how it's covered in scratches and dents, how it isn't so shiny as he'd like for it to be. It washed over him like a small wave of shame, thinking it not worthy for someone of your standing to don. Not even socially, but the standing that you held within his mind and his heart. Leon never thought he'd be insecure over such a trivial thing.

"So... Can I try it on, my good Sir?"

Leon lets out a little snort at what you call him, freezing and making an embarrassed face at the undignified noise, but then he he sees how happy it makes you– perhaps how happy he himself makes you, and he feels at ease.

"Yes, of course, Your Royal Highness."

You playfully slap his bicep at the absurd title. "I am not royalty!"

"You are to me." He mutters as he adjusts his sitting position, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

He's kneeling in front of you, being mindful of your hair or anything on your clothing the helmet could snag on, gently lowering it before the hard metal rests on the top of your skull.

Leon sits back down, and can't help a cheesy, tight-lipped smile when he sees how awkwardly it fits you. It's crooked, and it simply is too rugged in contrast to your usual attire and demeanor.

"...How is it?"

"Wow, I can barely see. This is amazing!" Your hands rest on the sides of the helmet to try and stabilize it, yet it still tips over off balance after adjusting. Leon lets out a snort, and this time, he's only half-embarrassed.

"How do you fight in this? I can't see anything."

Leon wordlessly pulls the visor up. His heart pounds at the sight of your flushed face and messy hair.

"Ohh. What if an arrow lands in my face, though?"

"I can assure you, you won't be getting into that sort of situation anytime soon."

"You seem very sure of yourself, Leon."

"Of course, it's my duty to protect you."

"...Do you enjoy it?"

"What? Protecting you?"

You nod, "Yes."

"I look forward to it every day."

The two of you share a wide smile, beaming at the intimacy of this interaction, and you two have never felt closer. I want to kiss you, is all Leon can think about.

Right as he was mindlessly leaning in, you let out a small laugh for whatever reason, and Leon is forever grateful that you do, because it snaps him out of his trance, and he feels so stupid for trying to make a move on you.

"That's good. I don't think armor suits me very much anyways." You clumsily take his helmet off of your head, and rest it by your hip.

"I'm glad to have you protecting me, Leon. I'm so happy to have you by my side every day, not even as a knight, but as a companion." You say this so demurely, looking down at your lap with a cherubic expression on your face that has his heart pounding in his strong chest.

Then, you just had to look up at him, and meet his lovestruck stare, and maybe he's gone crazy from how flustered he's been all day, but he swears he can see the same look in your eyes.

Leon throws out whatever he was last thinking straight out the window, encases your wrists in his hands, and kisses you.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

[swampstew]

You Picked Dare

Summary: Why the hell would you play truth or dare with a bunch of pirates? Warnings: nsfw but mostly language and suggestive content, no actual smut, Kid Pirates being the Kid Pirates. Killer x Female reader x Kid

Inspired by the mega awesome @magnuspirate who did this delighful tease of two hunky hunks hunking around

Dare.

Dare. 

Dare.

Your bold statement had come out smug and confident, echoing in your head with a twinge of regret.

The Dare was to go into the hot springs and take a photo – of Killer and your Captain. Damn the others for knowing your kryptonite.

There was an opt-out option – to clean the communal bathrooms for a month. No fucking way.

As you walked through the island you took nervous hits of your blunt to ease the butterflies in your stomach. All you had to do was take a picture. There were no restrictions, you could be seen or hidden, as long as you got a photo of them that was all you needed to escape this torturous dare disguised as a group bonding activity.

Fuck the crew! You loved them but also fuck them. You were gonna get them back.

About a hundred yards away from the hot spring you took a final drag and snuffed out the remaining blunt. Giving yourself an internal pep talk as you took each step.

‘Position self behind a bush. Snap a picture. Sneak away and then run like the devil’s on my heels.’

Picturing your devil of a captain, your stomach coiled with anxiousness. Oh how you wished you could light up the roach.

Creeping between the foliage, you could hear Kid and Killer talking to each other in relaxed conversation. They didn’t appear to notice you, silently cursing as you realized they were still too far to take a photo.

Tip toeing on the patches of grass, you could make out their conversation more clearly.

“Ya ever think about sleeping with someone on the crew?” Kid suddenly asked Killer. You nearly fell over yourself when you heard the statement.

“Once in a while, rarely act on it though. You?” Killer mused.

“All the time.”

“Horn dog,” Killer scoffed.

“Can ya blame me? All our girls are hot as fuck.”

“Yeah, but I also see most of them as sisters…”

“You’re so pure,” Kid laughed. “Yeah they’re family, but they’re also not. I’m not saying I’d do anything about it either but it’s tempting some times.”

You felt as if you weren’t breathing, skillfully crawling around the shrubs eager to hear and see more, as silent as the dead. One breath and they were sure to discover you.

“Ahh is this about Y/N again?”

Time stopped. Your heart stopped. You didn’t dare move.

“Could be,” there was a tilt in Kid’s voice. “Don’t pretend you don’t think about her and what it could be like.”

“You’re being vulgar, which isn’t surprising, but what do you expect me to say? ‘Sure Kid I’ll bow out from another person of interest to give you the advantage as your friend.’” Killer legitimately sounded a little mad. Well like, personal hurt mad, not crazy mad which he was every single second.

“I’m a man with needs too. And I LIKE her.”

You wished to be a small lizard so you could watch them argue about you. Maybe the blunt was laced with something – wouldn’t put it past your crew to be honest.

Low growling preceded a laugh, and you could hear the sound of water splashing. Oh to the gods to be a fish in that spring.

“Alright fair enough. Would it make you feel better if we do it together? It’d be her choice who she’d choose no matter what, no hurt fee fees over it. Maybe if we come at her with a multi-partner thing, 50/50 she agrees?”

“Kid!”

“60/40?”

“Stop it.”

“Damn 10/90?”

More splashing of water, waves of it crashing over your coverage and wetting your clothes. Practicing your breathing exercises, you mentally pumped yourself up to get it over with. One snap and bam, you’re gone.

“What if we show her our dicks first?”

“KID!”

“Whadd’ya say Y/N? Wanna check the goods before you sample them?” Kid couldn’t hold back his laughter.

Gods be damned. They all sucked.

Gathering the last ounce of dignity and lighting your roach, you jumped out from behind the foliage with your camera, looking to the side as you snapped the picture. Whether is was worthy enough to pass was no longer your priority.

“IT WAS A DARE!!!!” you screeched as your turned on your heel and bolted. You poor thing, you didn’t make it past 1 yard.

“Oh you’re not going anywhere, Y/N,” Kid taunted as Killer wrapped his arms around you and picked you up. His towel becoming loose and distressed from your struggling. Bringing you back to the hot spring.

Taking the camera, Kid tossed it in the water with the smuggest face a motherfucker could make.

“We showed you ours, now we dare you to show yours.”

[wistfulnightingale]

A Mini-Meta Musing (#1)... Anything To Protect Crowley

I'm always a bit surprised at how Aziraphale is underestimated in the fandom. (I know he's in everyone's bad books rn, but breathe deeply and hear me out!). I've seen a lot of debate about how much, in his relationship with Crowley over the years, Aziraphale is rigidly fixated on right/wrong, good/evil, and uses it to push Crowley away. Sometimes, however, these discussions forget to take into account how often Crowley was punished by Hell. And Aziraphale knows.

Once he understood the constant risk of retribution the demon faced, Aziraphale's primary instinct and his self-appointed mission in the relationship became Protect Crowley. No matter what. Protect Crowley even when his friend is careless with his own safety. It's a huge factor in why he so often pushes Crowley away in later years, when they seem to be beyond all that. And I believe that it's also the real reason he built the bookshop.

Aziraphale desperately hopes the bookshop can help keep Crowley safe.

It takes a very long time for Aziraphale to recognize how dangerous their relationship is for Crowley. In the early centuries, the angel is buying the Party Line -- if you made it through the Fall, you're holy and perfect. In Eden, and again in Job's cellar, he misses the demon's ironic humor and is very caught up in holier-than-thou thinking. That doesn't exactly enourage Crowley to confide his secret shame. Our devil-may-care demon desperately wants to look confident and dashing and independent, not fearful and bullied. Eventually, however, whether Crowley confided or Aziraphale guessed, our foolish Principality realizes the danger, and he grows up a lot.

By 1601, at the Globe Theatre, he's more worried about the cruelty of Hell then Crowley is. Aziraphale at first *looks like* he's scorning Crowley's proposal in the arrangement, but he's actually trying, in his own way, to subtly "shush" Crowley's loud and daring carelessness. We know this because he then worriedly reminds the demon that, "if Hell finds out, they won't just be angry, they'll destroy you."

I propose that Crowley did actually get punished for his indiscretion in some way, sometime after that. When he shows up at the Bastille in 1793, sure, he's putting on fashion-model poses to impress the flirtatious angel, but he's also much less relaxed. There's a tension and moodiness in him that, chronologically, wasn't there in Essex or at the Globe. He's cynical again. But he doesn't tell the angel-- not that we know of, at least. Possibly because Aziraphale is feeling flirty and practically radiant that his handsome friend came to his rescue!

The meeting at St. James Park in 1862 was a defining moment for Aziraphale. Crowley had been literally sucked into a Hellhole, screaming, for saving Elspeth in 1827 Edinburgh. At the park in 1862, he's visibly stiff, barely even turning his head, carrying a cane, and incredibly subdued in all ways. There's no energized pacing, no hand gestures or leaning in. He hardly moves. His corporation was included in Hell's punishment, and he looks broken.

Aziraphale couldn't possibly NOT see this. We know he was worried when Crowley was taken. We see this in present-day when he slightly bullies and borrows a phone immediately after remembering the events of 1827, just so he can check on Crowley! Back in 1862, he sees Crowley's despair and brokenness. Again, he handles it indirectly, and hurtfully. If he can't keep Crowley safe, he'll push him away, for his own good. Like an old tear-jerker classic movie where the little boy tearfully chases away his beloved dog so that the mean villain won't shoot it...

Aziraphale is an intensely emotional being who often seems overwhelmed by his own feelings, leading him to handle difficult situations badly sometimes. However, he's also incredibly loving. The former Guardian of the Eastern Gate is a protector by nature and by choice. He loves humanity, and risks his ethereal status repeatedly to protect them. He loves Crowley, his best friend, whether he feels safe to admit it aloud or not. He'll risk anything, including the friendship itself, to protect him.

For 1800 years, Heaven didn't have an embassy in London. If Aziraphale just wanted a physical building to store his treasured collection of books, he could have done that. Heaven is a corporate hierarchy with paperwork and red tape. There surely were requests and filings and complications in trying to get an official Embassy authorized! Possibly he could simply have obtained permission to own a simple shop as a "cover" to fit in with the humans (like eating sushi!).

Instead, the bookshop is a Heavenly Embassy with miraculous protections. No one can enter unless first invited, not even angels. Only Crowley can freely come and go, at least until the chain of events at the end of Season 2. Prior to that, the bookshop is a safe place for them. Crowley is visibly more relaxed there. He and Aziraphale get along there, laugh and tease, and have their closest moments together. They are safe there, and Crowley can't be harmed within its walls.

This was Aziraphale's goal. He had too often felt the helplessness of witnessing how his relationship with Crowley put the demon at constant risk, even before 1827. From the time their friendship truly began at Job's home in Uz until Crowley was kidnapped by Hell in 1827, we never see Aziraphale try to discourage or end the relationship. Every interaction except Essex (537 A.D.) brought them closer together, and even Essex was quite collegial until Crowley first proposed "The Arrangement." Aziraphale hoped that creating the bookshop, with its protections, would help keep Crowley safe, or at least give him a temporary haven where he could relax and breathe more freely.

Imagine how powerless Aziraphale must have felt when 1827 slammed home the realization that he could never do enough to fully protect Crowley from Hell, or from Heaven for that matter. Yet, despite the danger, Crowley always seeks him out again, at continued risk. "Ducks have ears." Someone may always be listening. No wonder the angel unilaterally tried to end the friendship. Not a fair or emotionally healthy strategy, admittedly. But Not too difficult to understand.

-----

Final note, my own fun little imagining about the shop name: A. Z. FELL & Co. I know that adding "and Company" was a common business technique to make one's appear large and prosperous. It wouldn't be unusual at the time for a single shop owner to use, particularly for a property as impressive as Aziraphale's. But it's my personal belief, be it fact or headcanon, that the angel was entirely thinking of his best friend when he added "and Company" to the shop name. Crowley has an open invitation, Crowley is his guest, his companion. Crowley is welcome company. A & C. A.Z. Fell & Co.

[demcndcgs]

//I've decided I'm going to go ahead and add the other three Hazbin OCs I've got to this blog. It was intended as a multimuse for them. It probably won't be finished today, but I've got:

Nite Rain - African painted dog

Starlight - dhole

Georgie - coyote

I've got backstories for all of them. Georgie's is the closest tied to a canon character. He was a dock worker who knew Angel when Angel was living in DUMBO. But yeah. I'll add the three of them here in the next couple of days.

[canisalbus]

You said that you had a Vasco playlist (also probably one for Machete bcs duh) but i dont think i have ever seen you share them

If you feel comfortable, could you link them so I can rotate them in my head with a proper soundtrack

(Love ur work btw <3)

They have playlists, yes, but they're kind of messy and embarrassing and I'd like to keep the full ones private for now ´v`'

However, here's some songs that remind me of them at the moment:

Machete

Soap&Skin - Me and the Devil

Hozier - Take Me To Church

PVRIS - Holy

River Styx - Angel

Coldplay - Viva La Vida

Florence + The Machine - Hunger

Florence + The Machine - Breath of Life

Florence + The Machine - No Light, No Light

Florence + The Machine - What The Water Gave Me

Florence + The Machine - Bedroom Hymns

Florence + The Machine - Shake It Out

Florence + The Machine - Seven Devils

Florence + The Machine - Which Witch

Nicole Dollanganger - Executioner

Des Rocs - Used to the Darkness

Depeche Mode - Personal Jesus

Gang of Youths - Achilles Come Down

Rufus Wainwright - Hallelujah

AURORA - Heathens

AURORA - Blood In the Wine

Mitski - I'm Your Man

Muse - Take a Bow

Hurts - Exile

Hurts - Help

Richard Einhorn - Pater Noster

Guillaume David - Children of the Omnissiah

Keane - Sovereign Light Café

AJJ - Body Terror Song

carolesdaughter - please put me in a medically induced coma

Vasco

Hozier - Francesca

Lotte Kestner - Halo

Mitski - I Bet on Losing Dogs 

alt-J - Every Other Freckle

BØRNS - American Money

Lincoln - Saint Bernard

Rainbow Kitten Surprise - Fever Pitch

Barns Courtney - Glitter & Gold

Hurts - Illuminated

Hurts - Some Kind of Heaven

Woodkid - Conquest of Spaces

Woodkid - The Great Escape

Laura Veirs - July Flame

Sia - Fire Meet Gasoline

Mika - Origin of Love

La Bouquet - Sad People Dancing

Röyksopp - I Had This Thing

Lord Huron - The Night We Met

Johnny Klimek - Meeting Laura

Johnny Klimek - The Crowd Embrace

Florence + The Machine - Wish That You Were Here

Florence + The Machine - Drumming Song

Florence + The Machine - Cosmic Love

Florence + The Machine - Patricia

Belinda Carlisle - Heaven Is A Place On Earth

ABBA - Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!

You Are My Sunshine

Bonus (these only make sense if you know Finnish)

Scandinavian Music Group - Liian laiha rakkaani

Happoradio - Ihmisenpyörä

Happoradio - Sinun vaikka hajoat

PMMP - Viimeinen valitusvirsi

Antti Tuisku - Pyhä kosketus

Antti Tuisku - Mistä minä tiedän

Johanna Kurkela - Valoihminen

Iisa - Kaunein syy

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 33 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

As it turns out, the Underworld provides a whole slew of services designed to deal with circumstances just like this. Medical care, emergency home repair–and body disposal, all for the price of a handful of gold coins.

You sit with John as a man your lover so descriptively calls Doc sews up Wick’s wounds. There is blood on your face, and your silk pjs. Dog sits on your foot, clearly anxious about letting either one of you out of his sight. In the same spirit, John’s good hand is clasped in yours, or yours in his–neither of you have been able to let go. 

Another man known simply as Charlie orchestrates the removal of the collection of corpses through the house. Yet more tattooed tradesmen work on boarding up the blown out window in the kitchen with a big piece of plywood. 

It’s a miracle, really, the house didn’t burn down. 

“Thought you’d left all this behind you, John?” asks Doc, making a neat knot in the former assassin’s side. 

“So did I.”

“What will you do?”

“The same thing I always do when I’m lost. Talk to Winston.” 

The two men share a snort of laughter you don’t entirely understand. 

When Doc finishes with John he gives you a bottle of pain meds, and a bottle of what are, as far as you can tell, pharmacy grade amphetamines. “In case he has to work again.” You take them with wide eyes and a nod, praying to whatever devil might be listening that that won’t be necessary. 

You’re fairly certain that no one up above is interested in any of you anymore. 

You killed a man. 

You killed a man with a gun to save John, and you do not feel sorry at all. 

Numb, perhaps, but not sorry. 

John groans as he adjusts himself on the couch. You reach out to steady him, helping him best you can. He is heavy, and you look at the stairs with doubt. “Maybe we should sleep down here tonight?”

He blinks at you, undoubtedly thinking you incredibly naïve. “We can’t stay here, baby. It’s not safe.”

“Where will we go?” 

“We’re going to the city,” says John, sounding weary as a man twice his age. “I know a place. Can you drive?”

You have to admit you’re a little dizzy from the whiplash. In the span of a few hours, you’ve gone from being locked up like a princess in the castle, to murdering a man, and now John is going to let you drive?

He must read the blatant surprise on your face. He doesn’t like it, his grip tightening on your hand. “These are bad, bad men who would eat you for breakfast. You’ve got to stick with me.” 

You bristle at this, because even though you absolutely should be thinking about escape? You’re not. You were thinking about how you were going to manage taking care of him in this state, and it pisses you off that he’s still so fucking worried about controlling you that he can’t see the writing written in blood on the wall. 

Or at least, written in blood, on the kitchen floor. 

“You asshole,” you say for the second time tonight. It wins you a lordly scowl that for some fucked up reason thrills you to the tips of your toes. But it’s too late to turn back now. “Were you there, when I fucking shot a man for you? Maybe this is just business as usual for you, but it’s fucking new to me.”

He clenches his other fist on his knee, seeming to count to ten with his eyes closed. “I’m sorry,” he finally grinds out. “I know…Are you alright?”

You guess that you put up a good enough front that he forgot that maybe he should ask. Good on you. Maybe.

“No, not really,” you answer truthfully. “But I don’t have any choice, do I?”

He actually has the grace to cast his eyes down, seeming to really think on what you’re saying. “You had a choice,” he muses quietly, his thumb sliding over your knuckles. “In the kitchen.”

You stroke Dog’s head for something to do with your other hand, which is shaking. Your thundering heart beats painfully in your chest. From the corner of your eye you take in this anomaly of a man. This man, who kidnapped you, who has been playing mental games with you for months, who has kept you prisoner, who has taken your body to heights you never even knew were possible, who has spoiled you, who has adored you and degraded you all in the same breath–this man, who somehow, you know you love with your whole heart. 

“John…” He tilts his head to look at you, his eyes glazed with pain. You’re not sure if it’s physical or mental at this point. “Did you really think I could shoot you?”

Perhaps he did, because in his mind, the only acceptable answer to a wrong against you is murder. 

Perhaps in the brutal world he’s occupied since he was just a child, it is. 

Suddenly he can’t meet your eyes. “Maybe I would deserve it, y/n.”

The fact that he knows that is definitely a good sign. 

But the tricky truth is–it wasn’t all bad. And the good? The good was almost worth the bad, you dare to think now that you’ve survived it. You know better than to say that, because you know you are in the midst of a negotiation right now.

“I love our life together, when you’re sweet to me, John. I only want to murder you when you boss me around. And I only mean that figuratively.”

A huff of laughter escapes him; there is a glimmer of hope in his miserable dark eyes. You know it’s insane, after everything he’s done, but you feel sorry for this man. 

“If you would just treat me as an equal, instead of constantly trying to control me…” I’ll be your ride or die. You can’t bring yourself to say it aloud yet. He already has enough power over you. “Do you think…that’s something we can work on?”

He could have pushed you over with a feather, when slowly he nods, bringing your knuckles to his lips to kiss them. “If you don’t want to murder me after everything I’ve done to you…maybe anything is possible.”

You on the other hand, can only blink. Did you just hear what you think you heard? 

That blood-pressure induced ringing has returned to your ears again. The explosion and gunfire surely didn’t help, but somehow this is far more momentous to you. Your surprise for the magnitude of this admission surprises you, and you must show it in the lift of your brows. It makes him smile ruefully; you’re not sure why the sight of it squeezes your heart so. 

You are not so stupid as to think this traumatic event has healed him miraculously, knocked some loose screw back into place. The mind doesn’t work like that. But just maybe, it did put some things into perspective. You are allies now against a mutual cause, rather than enemies of each other. And just maybe, when you tell him that you don’t want to leave him, he will actually believe you from now on. 

“Anyway…I can drive the Rover…” you say with confidence, even though you are still utterly flabbergasted he’d even give you the opportunity. “I don’t know about the ‘Stang.” The Mustang you think you could manage in an emergency, but it’s been a long time since you had to drive a stick, and being responsible for his baby doesn’t sit well with you. 

“That will do.” He grumbles, mostly to himself, “I’ve got to teach you to drive. There is so much I need to teach you.”

You’re not sure what he means by that. You are too tired to hash it out completely right now, but you sense that something, a whole lot of something, has changed in the past few hours between you.  

He makes to get to his feet with a groan–and can’t quite. “Maybe I am too old for this shit,” he grouses. 

“John, you got shot, stabbed, and fought off ten heavily armed assassins. I think you can count tonight as a win.”

Again, that bitter huff of laughter escapes him. You help John to his feet, trying to steady him as best you can. If he’d injured one of his legs badly you would be so fucked; there was no way you could carry him.

“Um…who were they?” You realize you haven’t even talked about who was just trying to kill him. You suppose you already think you know the answer, but then again you could be wrong.

“Camorra goons, I’m pretty sure,” hisses John, clearly in pain. “Guess I should have kept someone alive for questioning…I’ve always been bad at that.”

You press your lips, because it shouldn’t be funny…but if you don’t laugh about it, you might cry. Your life has been so weird lately, it almost just seems par for the course in a way. 

“John…” you chortle and sigh. “Surely the d’Antonio kid gets the picture now? You’ve killed everyone he’s sent after you? Why can’t these assholes just leave you alone?” Why the prince of the Camorra would court such trouble is beyond you. 

“Good question.” He groans as he takes a step, his good arm slung over your shoulder. “The young ones, especially the second or third generation, think they have to prove themselves. Or maybe…he loved his mother and wants me dead. It’s a faint possibility.” 

“Italian boys and their mothers.” 

John chuckles a little, then winces. “Please, sweetheart,” he entreats you. “Don’t make me laugh.” 

Maybe you are a silly creature, but hearing the endearment for you warms something in your heart that had been left out in the cold for too long. “Fine,” you agree, even though humor is absolutely your biggest coping mechanism. “Tell me what we need to do next?” 

“We need to pack.”

“Ok. What?”

“Suits, and guns.” 

You guess in a nutshell, that was the essential distillation of his world, once upon a time. Now, quite against your will, you both are being kicked back into it. By the look in John’s dark eyes, for some reason you have a feeling it’s the Camorra who are going to regret it. 

[deeppenguinstudent]

"He's not the person he once was. You shouldn't associate yourself with him, Jean."

Kevin's voice was a far cry tucked deep within the crevasses of Jean's mind; a forgotten aria that's been drowned out by the symphony of the man that stood across Jean. His blue eyes shone sinfully against the light of the full moon, beckoning Jean over like a moth to a flame.

The man went by many names: Wesninski Scum, The Devil's Inexorable Soldier, The Butcher's Son, but Jean's favourite would always be the puerile moniker he had given him as children.

"Nat," Jean called out. His fingers trembled as he reached out. His shirt was bloodied with the viscera of the victim that laid unmoving on the ground. He resisted the urge to lurch when Nathaniel turned to him, hands horrifyingly bloody yet his eyes as innocuous as the day Jean had first met him.

Nathaniel took a step forward, and Jean took a step back. They continued this push and pull until Jean's back gently touched the wall.

"You're scared of me," Nathaniel mused. He wiped the dripping blood off his eyebrows with the back of his bloodied hand - he furrowed his eyebrows in frustration when it only left a larger smudge of blood on his eyelids.

It was absurd. This was Nat. This was the boy that Jean had grown up with in Evermore, his partner that promised him unattainable fantasies in the quiet of the night when the king snored in his slumber. The man that had been taken away from Jean and torn away a part of his soul, forever lost in Nathaniel's essence. He had suffered his father's wrath and emerged victorious; thus, earning him a righteous spot beside the new heir of the Moriyamas.

Nevertheless, he came back to Jean. He could've had anything he wanted; money, power, fame, yet he chose to free Jean from the unruly clutches of Evermore. Demanded Ichirou with a ferocious glint in his eyes to secure Jean's safety as his muse.

So what if his hands were bloodied beyond salvation? He was the only one who ever reached out to Jean, albeit staining both their hands with the murky colour of sacrilege. There was no God in this world, only Nathaniel and Jean.

Jean reached and pulled Nathaniel's hands towards him, rendering the boy surprised at his abruptness. Jean circled the brunettes hands across his own waist and felt his heart convulse with rapture as Nathaniel squeezed taxingly on sanctioning flesh.

His arms snaked around Nathaniel's neck and surged the boy forward, resting his lips on top of Jean's. He kissed Neil as if he were the medicine to his reoccurring ailment of loneliness. They never kissed gently. How was a dog who was beaten all its life ever supposed to be benign?

Soft nudges were replaced by bruising biting that had Jean gasping into Nathaniel's mouth. Insistence and desperation overtook both of them as Nathaniel pushed him harder against the wall; his hand hiking up ever so slightly Jean's torso. The tugging of Nathaniel's hair rewarded Jean with an even more fervorous kiss that eroded Jean to a plate of needy whimpers and pants for Nathaniel to devour.

"Scared? Of you Nat?" Jean whined mutedly as Nathaniel's hands toyed with the hem of his pants, "Never."

Jean willed his tremors of fear to stop because this was Nat for heavens sake; but when he saw an unfamiliar glint of bloodlust spark in Nathaniel's eyes - he couldn't help but feel his heart stutter in terror.

[ohlawdthebirds]

Date Night

Platonic!141 x reader

Synopsis: You and Gaz discover Soap's date night present for Ghost.

A/n: And if you find yourself asking why Soap left Ghost’s gift in the bathroom…let’s just say he was making sure it worked properly.

Daily Click for Palestine

Banner credits to @cafekitsune

There were several pros and cons that came with sharing a flat with four other members of the armed forces. Among the various pros were having basically four live-in guard dogs that kept you safe. Among the various cons however…well…erm…

-

Gaz gently called your name from where he stood in your doorway. You slid your headphones from your ears and looked at him expectantly. You noted his sheepish, almost embarrassed look and the way he refused to meet your eyes. You asked if he was alright but instead of answering, he lobbed a question your way.

“Did you…” Gaz cleared his throat and began again, “I believe you’ve left something in the bathroom.”

Confusion was clear on your face. You were certain you hadn’t left anything in the main bathroom, save for your towel and washrag. Nevertheless, you got up and followed him. The moment you stepped into the bathroom your eyes immediately latched onto what had given Gaz such a fright.

“Good God almighty,” you coughed out. “T-that’s not mine! I don’t even think I could even fit something like…that in me.”

“That” in question was an absolute behemoth of a dildo, violently red and violently large. Nine inches in length and an inch and a quarter in girth. Huge silicone balls and all. It sat, almost menacingly, atop the toilet lid. There was something unnerving about it, in the way the sheer weight of its head caused the dildo to bow forward.

“Kyle…Kyle, I didn’t know they made dildos this big. Dude, who is shoving this in them?”

“That’s what I’m sayin’! Nearly screamed when I saw this. Was just tryin’ to take a shower and was greeted by this hunk of silicone.”

You stepped back to cower next to Gaz in the doorway. “This is spooky. That means there’s someone in this house that not only purchased it but is able to handle it.”

Gaz pressed in closer to you. “What kind of freak would do that?” he mused.

You wracked your brain for answers. “Well, I don’t think Price is the type to be a size queen. I feel like his toys would be a bit more modest.”

Gaz nodded. “And Ghost just doesn’t strike me as the type to leave his stuff about. So, that leaves only one person.”

“’Scuse me, gonnae need th’ twa of ye to move,” a voice said from behind you. In a flash, you and Gaz whipped around to make eye contact with Soap. He was unperturbed, shouldering past the two of you to get into the bathroom. He made a noise of satisfaction upon seeing the monstrous dildo. In one fluid move, he yanked it off the toilet lid, the suction cup underneath letting out a loud POP as it unstuck itself. Soap whistled a tune as he rooted around in the cupboards. He emerged holding a bottle of lube. He continued whistling as he waltzed past you and Gaz once more. Before he fully left your lines of sight, he turned back around, a devilish glint in his eyes.

“By th’ way, Ah suggest ye twa git good headphones fer th’ night. It’s Simon n’ Ah’s date night. N’ this,” Johnny held up the monstrous dildo, “Is his gift.”

Needless to say, you camped out in Gaz’s room that night, as it was the farthest from Soap and Ghost’s shared room. The two of you kept your headphones on tight and your music cranked up. Price, upon receiving the memo that his subordinates were dancing the devil’s tango, booked a room at a nearby hotel and was not seen until you gave him the all-clear via text the next day.

[hound-of-ulster]

Tried writing it and can't seem to make the muse spark, maybe I'll try again later, but for now I must share, lol. Have my brain gremlin.

Dish-Pit!Danny (Lazarus pit pun intended.)

Danny runs from Amity for one reason or another, ends up in Gotham, and what is a kid who hasn't graduated from school to do?

Get a job in food service.

He's hired as a dishwasher at Gotham Prep. And since things happen as they do in kitchens and with #TypicalGothamCorruption, he takes over the unofficial duties of taking care of the alternative diet students. Be it allergies or vegan/vegetarian. Shout out to Sam and Lunch Lady for being his inspiration/shoulder devil angel combo.

Works on getting his GED and eventually night classes. Working at a schools works well for it. Let's throw in an employee assistance program for college or something.

--

Damien meets him while taking a tour.

Tour guide: "Gotham Prep has a dedicated chef for alternate diets your precious student may have." *And it's just Dish-pit!Danny.*

Damian: "How many students do you cook for here?"

Danny: "well, that depends. I have 4 vegetarians, 2 vegans, every now and again the 3 pescaterians. Plus the 15 that pay me to tell their parents when they call that 'yes they are being fed the very best plant products at school' while they really just eat steak, and then 3 more gluten free ones I take care of sides dishes for mainly. So. Like. 11. Give or take the menu."

--

I could see Danny being the guy to accept bribes. "Put your name down and it 10 bucks every time your mom calls."

"Tanner said it was 5?"

"Tanner isn't a dick to Cynthia when she serves him. Say please and thank you next time and it might go down to 5. It's an Entitled Upcharge, get used to it."

--

Damien bonds. Like a feral cat claiming territory. Does a background check and decides that Danny is on probation. Plus, his lentil soup slaps.

--

When Tim loses his spleen, he too joins the cult of Danny. Can't eat from a buffet with a compromised immune system. And I imagine Gotham Prep as a fancy buffet. Because I said so.

--

Add in a sick moment when one of the boys only wants a dish Danny cooks, which gets the other batfam into stealing his recipe, and when that doesn't work, eventually Danny himself is plopped in Alfred's kitchen with the frilly apron of shame tied around him, frog marched to make it.

"He won't stop making puppy dog eyes at us. Fix him."

--

Headcanon he is similar in age to Jason, maybe they meet in GED classes... haha

--

The siblings all have a pact to keep him from Bruce.

"He's adoption bait."

"Oh, absolutely. Let him grow up, he's doing well on his own."

*Danny, living off lunch leftovers from work and spite to finish his GED/degree*

"He's doing amazing sweetie!"