#do you guys like the jesus halo i put

[boneysoda]

prince and his favourite knight (੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚

[saffusthings]

Baby I Can Feel Your Halo

oscar piastri x personal assistant! reader

summary: the one where the world gets to become familiar with a new name: Y/N L/N. word count: 8.4k warnings: awkwardness, my attempt and poetic writing, poor understanding of how film and media works, Lando as a bit of a side character, poorly edited writing a/n: i can't tell whether this is half decent or nonsensical. inspired by That Viral Interview. i have a soft spot for this part of the story, so i hope you guys are able to like it too.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

She’s going to kill him.

Clicking her phone on to check the time for the umpteenth time as if it will make this stupid elevator go any faster, she lets out a huff. The tapping of her shoe acts as a placebo, perhaps. Or maybe this elevator is actually getting slower-

When the metal gates finally part, she bolts. As gracefully as one can, she awkwardly half-run, half power walks past the hall of doors until she reaches Room 307.

She doesn’t even pretend to knock. Glancing at her phone one more time - 27 calls - she slips a plastic card from the lanyard around her neck. When it beeps, flashing green, the door opens with a click, allowing her to storm in.

To her credit, she at least waits for the door to close before she yells.

“Oscar Jack Piastri!”

Oscar wakes to a fire. Or at least that’s what he has to assume is happening, considering someone is screaming his name at full volume. Eyelids barely open, he immediately sits up in bed. “M’awake! Jesus, give me a second,” he mumbles, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes.

Tossing him his pants that had been hanging in his closet, she goes around, picking up any stray items. “Put some pants on,” she grumbles. “C’mon get up, we’re already-”

“-running late,” he says defeatedly, eyes landing on the bedside alarm clock. 

When he finally steps out of the bathroom, his brows are scrunched in confusion. She’s typing something on her phone, and definitely not trying not to look at him.

It’s been over a week since their almost-kiss in her office. She’s no rookie, she’s been more than professional since, knowing she can’t risk this. But a small part of her can’t help but think of how close his lips had been to her anytime she’s standing close enough to smell his familiar cologne. 

She’s interrupted from her thoughts by the sound of Oscar’s voice, her thumb still hovering over her phone from her long forgotten text.

Trying to get the swoop of his hair to land in some sane looking way, he gestures to the pine green sweater spread out for him on the bed, the one she insisted he wear. “You sure about this?”

He watches her as she knits her eyebrows together as she gives him the once over. “Yes. You look good in green,” she explains, still entirely absorbed in sending an e-mail to their media liaison.

It’s only once he’s finally dressed that she gets up and gives him a look over. Her lips purse before she motions for him to stand closer. “C’mere.”

She aligns the seams that are supposed to trace along his shoulder, before using her hands to smooth out any wrinkles in the soft fabric. She stands back for a moment, before coming closer again, and pulling his sleeves up just a bit in a way that exposes some of his forearm. Assessing it one more, and seeming content with how it looks, before doing the same to his other sleeve.

Entirely unaware of the chaos his cardiovascular system seems to be undergoing, she gives him one last look over, and wipes a bit of excess moisturizer that had been left on his nose.

“There we go,” she says with a small smile. 

Grabbing her things, she stands at the door before looking back for him. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” he says slowly, patting his pockets and searching the hastily made bed. “Just…”

“Good to go,” he announces, swiping his phone off the bedside table, and tucking into his pocket before following her into the hall. “Where are we headed?”

“They’ve set up in one of the conference rooms near the swimming pool” she says from over her shoulder as they make their way down. “It’s some Australian channel looking to do a segment on their hometown hero, so it should be a safe set. Of course, if they veer off course, let me know and I’ll take care of it. ”

“Will you be there? Or are you headed back to the office?” Oscar asks. His tone makes it difficult to differentiate whether he's nervous, wary, or doesn’t want her to be there, but he hopes she understands anyway. 

“Yep,” she replies, smiling. Oscar wonders why his chest feels warm. 

“That’s my job, remember?” 

When he gets to hair and make-up, he can’t help but feel more than a little lost. Not because of the makeup, certainly - god knows Hattie has tested more than enough ‘smokey eyes’ on him - but rather because when he sits in the chair, the woman immediately asks what kind of look he wants to go for.

Huh?

He looks over to Y/N with desperate eyes. 

Help me, please.

She’s quick to walk over and greet Lindsay, his stylist for today, with a warm smile. Once she’s sure that the stylist is okay with taking recommendations, the rest of it comes easily.

“We’ll wanna do some powder to counter the glare from the studio lights,’ she suggests, glancing at the woman for approval. Tilting Oscar’s face, the two women survey him analytically.

“It’s up to you if you want to add a little warmth, but no blush or color corrector or anything like that. And then his hair looks good like this, so we don’t need to do anything there. How does that sound?”

The elder woman nods in agreement before pointing at different parts of Oscar’s face and mumbling somethings to Y/N who nods along thoughtfully. 

Finally, he’s left at the mercy of his stylist, as Y/N walks away.

Once the mic checks are complete and the people behind the large lights give the go ahead, one of the employees counts off the seconds before the cameras start recording.

Oscar spends those seconds looking over to wherever she is. She’s stood by one of the people carrying a large white panel, watching on to make sure everything runs smoothly. They’ve done this dance probably dozens of times, but the buzzing lessens once he assures himself that she’s still in the vicinity. 

He watches her nod, giving him a reassuring smile, and then, Oscar is ready.

“And cameras are rolling 5… 4… 3… 2… 1.”

“We’re here now with Oscar Piastri,” the host says with a warm smile, “now in his second year of representing Australia in the highest level of motorsport - Formula One. Thank you so much for joining us, Oscar.”

“Of course, thank you for having me,” Oscar smiles, that polite cat smile that’s become associated with his name. “Just Oscar, is usually fine though,” he jokes, never one to feel too comfortable with high praise. The host laughs good naturedly, “Oh, the boy’s got jokes now, does he?“ Oscar seems to glow in the spotlight. Something about him, even in front of  the cameras, seems to radiate comfort, familiarity. Even on TV, even with his rising stardom, his laidback posture and the crinkle around his eyes when he smiles suggests that he could be the boy next door, that he could be your boy next door. The cameras are not the only thing focused on him. “So Oscar, not sure if you remember, but you did a sit-down with us last year as well.” “Of course. I don’t forget that easily, Mick,” the driver replies easily. “I’m not that old.” “No, no, in fact, you’re quite young aren’t you? Only 23 and already in your second year of Formula 1.” “Yeah, feels a bit strange when you say it like that,” Oscar chuckles, “but yeah. It’s been a bit of a wild ride.” Mickie smiles. “One year closer to retirement, I imagine?”

“God no,” Oscar scoffs, shifting in his seat to get a bit more comfortable. He looks more relaxed this way, more open. “I’m not leaving without a championship, so you’ll be seeing me around for a while. Sorry to disappoint.” Laughing good naturedly, the older man shakes his head. “Far from it. You’re a hometown hero. You’ve got everyone here rooting for you,” he tells him, gesturing to the crew around them.” Smiling gratefully, Oscar nods. “Yeah, I’ve been pretty lucky with all the support. That always makes a difference.” “I’m sure it does. Who would you say are your biggest supporters?” “My parents, for sure. I’m sure there’s a clip of my mom talking about my… let's call them oddities, as a child,” Oscar laughs, referring to his habit of make-believing as a car around the house, or how he wanted car magazines read to him instead of bedtime stories. “If they hadn’t put up with me through that, there’s no way I’d be here now.” It’s clear as day that beneath the thin film of humor, there’s a chasm of sincerity. He really does love his family - always making time to call them during long trips away or even just because. Working on media with Oscar is (usually) pleasant for that same reason - you don’t have to give him PR-written responses or pre-plan his anecdotes to make the audience fall in love with him. He tells the truth, and they can’t help but fall in love all on their own. “I’ve also got other supporters too. Silent supporters, I guess you could call them, since you all don’t see their faces as much. But my sisters, my team, Y/N, the fans - they are the reasons I get to live my dream everyday.” Mickie nods in acknowledgement. “Of course. Though I see we’re name dropping now,” he teases. Oscar looks up at him, mild panic hidden behind his eyes. He’s only just about to adjust his cap - a predetermined signal to Y/N that he needs her to intervene somehow - when Mickie interrupts his train of thought. “You mentioned Y/N as one of your supporters. Could you tell us a bit more about that?” When Oscar looks at the man with the salt and pepper hair, he doesn’t see the usual malice or hunger that many reporters would have if they had been in the same position. Mickie has been good to him and his team in the past - not coming off as a dog with a bone, but instead as an easy conversationalist who happens to be genuinely curious about Oscar and his life. The young driver recovers easily from his momentary scare. “Oh, yeah. Y/N’s definitely one of my greatest supports. I’d tell you all that she works for me, but I think she might poison my coffee if I did that.” The two share a laugh, easing Oscar’s nerves a little. He subtly adjusts his watch instead.

It’s alright, I got it.

From behind the cameras, Y/N takes a small breath of relief. Though she’s pleased the conversation didn’t take a turn for the rumor mill, she’ll still be a little on edge anytime her driver is in the media’s playpen.

“Alright then. Without risking your coffee, what can you tell us then? That’s not a name we’ve heard too often around the paddock.”

“Yeah, I mean. It’s a shame too - she’s supposed to be my assistant, but with how much she’s involved in everything, we might have to come up with a better title for her,” Oscar smiles easily. Mickie gives him a smile, straightening his notecards into a neat stack. “Is that so? Must be high praise, coming from a big-shot like yourself.” The air is pleasant, the conversation flowing naturally. Even as an observer, the scene could almost be mistaken for a casual chat in a living room somewhere. Oscar shakes his head. “Not enough, actually. When I say I wouldn’t be here without her, I mean it literally. If she hadn’t come to my rescue this morning, I’d probably still be in bed!” Mick leans over, laughing. “Glad to see how much you value our time here together, Oscar!” “Even if I did, I value my sleep more,” Oscar deadpans, a sly smile on his face. “I don’t envy her job, not in the slightest.” “Fair enough, fair enough.” The conversation makes its own way from there - Oscar’s goals for this year, what people can expect from the team this season, how the new car has been. 

“So what I’m hearing is that we have a promising season ahead?”

“I mean, every season looks promising at the start really, but yeah, I have a good feeling about this one. Cautiously optimistic, we’ll call it.” “Well I’m sure I’m not the only one when I say that I can’t wait to see what you have in store for us this season, Oscar.” “Wow, no pressure there. Thanks, though.”

The two share a laugh. It’s getting closer to the end of the segment, but with some time remaining. Mickie decides to take the conversation in a different direction. “Now that we’re done with all the shop talk.” he starts. “I was wondering if you could tell us what Formula 1 has been like for you personally. Last time around, during your rookie season, you mentioned that the intensity of the training and the magnitude of the races were some of the things that took some getting used to. Would you say the same is true now, or have you gotten used to it?” Oscar nods, thoughtful. “Yeah, I mean, your rookie season is always an adjustment. It took me some time to get used to that stuff, and I’d say I’m better at it now,” he answers honestly. “But that doesn't mean there aren’t still things I’m learning to get used to.” “What kind of things?” “As you can probably tell, the time zones are one thing,” he laughs, animatedly gesturing to where his eye bags would be. For a second, there’s silence as he’s given a moment to think, before he finally speaks again. “I’d say the people, too.”

“The drivers, the teams, or the fans?” Mick asks curiously. “The fans are pretty great,” he tells him. “But I think I meant like the drivers and their teams?”  Oscar tries to explain. “Like, you have to understand that there’s so many people in this complex machine that is Formula 1. And every single person that’s there, is because they’ve got this insane drive to win - that includes the drivers, of course, but the engineers, and the strategists, and the trainers too.”

“Tell me a bit more about that.”

“I mean, like, even in Formula 2, with Prema, there was a certain level of friendship and camaraderie that gets overshadowed in Formula 1, because of just how competitive everything is,” he explains, gesturing with his hands. “It’s crazy how the drivers flip a switch for lights out or the chequered flag, because that’s what comes with competing at the highest level.”

The host nods, making an effort to understand.

“Would you say it strains relationships then? This sort of�� dual personality that you and the other drivers have to have?”

“Honestly. To some degree, I imagine it has to. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be friendly with one another.”

“You’d mentioned earlier this year, in an interview with your company Quadlock, actually, where they asked you if you had any mates on the grid, and you replied with…” Oscar chuckles shyly, recalling the moment. “No friends, only enemies,” he quotes himself. “Exactly,” the older man chuckles. “Would you say the same is true for you now?” “The honest answer would be yes and no.” The man sitting across from Oscar raises an eyebrow at this, intrigued. “When you live in that bubble with people that are, at their core, just as competitive as you are..” he trails off, contemplating how to phrase it. “Let’s just say it has an interesting way of showing you who your friends and your enemies are.”

“And has it?” Mick asks genuinely. “Shown you your friends, I mean?” Oscar takes a breath before replying. “I mean, of course. There’s Lando, y’know - as my teammate, he’s always my greatest competitor but also the only one who can kind of understand where I’m coming from. Logan, also - you know we grew up through the lower Formulas together. He and I have been teammates in the past too, so it’s nice to have an old friend on the grid. Y/N too, y’know - we’re pretty close in age, and she’s really been there for the highs and the lows.”

“We’ve seen you interact with Logan and with Lando, but what would you say your friendship with Y/N is like?”

“I mean, we work together, so a lot of it comes from that,” he shrugs, not wanting to slip up and say the wrong thing. He signed up for the spotlight, but putting his assistant, his friend there without discussing it with her would be unfair.

“We work in tandem, you see - she takes care of everything outside the car, while I take care of everything in it.”

The interviewer hums thoughtfully. “That sounds like a dynamic that requires a lot of trust, I’d say.”

“Maybe, but she hasn’t let me down even once in two years.” For a moment, for a fraction of a second it feels like Oscar’s eyes glance in the direction of where she’s standing with the tech crew, but it must be a trick of her imagination. They’re standing in the shadows, and it’d be a stretch for her to think that he could even see her in the first place. “Not even once.”

“Would you say your friendship complicates this dynamic, or simplifies it?”

“Helps, definitely. Easier to get out of media duties that way,” Oscar jokes. Mickie laughs easily at that, before focusing on the subject once again.

“Really?  You two don’t face any challenges with that? I’d imagine with the other drivers that that boundary is a bit more clear, what with them being your competitors and all.” Oscar lips press together, his tongue subtly running over his lower lip to soothe the pressure. “I think maybe if it were someone else, then it would be. But not with her.“

Looking over to the armchair, he can see that the other man looks surprised. 

“You seem quite confident in saying that.”

“I am,” he says bluntly. Why wouldn’t he be?

“And what inspires that confidence?”

“Just who she is, really, “ Oscar answers with a shrug. On the other side of the room, Y/N waits for a signal that never comes. 

What the hell is he doing? 

This was most definitely not one of the agreed topics for tonight’s show.

“How do you mean?” Mickie can’t help but inquire.

“I mean the obvious thing to say here would be to say that we’re close in age,” Oscar starts, gesturing. “But it really is more than that. I’m lucky to work with an immensely talented team, especially with all the fresh talent McLaren’s brought on board this year.”

“Of course.”

“But as for her in particular…” The blonde seems to think for a minute. “I think, that in order for someone to understand how we work, they’d have to understand how she works,” he muses.

“And how’s that?”

“She’s like the light you need in order to see. With her perspective, her input,  the fundamental way in which she operates - things make sense. She makes things make sense, really - whether that’s logistically, or with the car, and especially with me.”

The words tumble out of his mouth before he can even know what he’s thinking. The tricky thing about this cozy lounge setup that he’s seated in is that, from her,  it looks nothing like the studios and press conferences and media pens that they’re used to. Here, there are no clambering reporters, no flashing cameras, no microphones shoved in his face.

It’s easier to forget that the world is watching.

“It’s a bit unfortunate that the fans watching this don’t get to see her as we do,” he says with a serious expression. “Because it’s hard to describe her personality, or even just her role if you haven’t existed in her orbit. There’s this… this spark that ignites with everything she interacts with.”

Oscar finds himself thinking of everything that happened on the road so far, every step that led them here. All he knows for certain is that his confidence is not unfounded. Sure, things were… less than ideal at the moment, but they’d go back to normal. He knew they would, he was sure of it.

Not so much because Oscar had a plan, but rather because he didn’t know what to do if they didn’t. They’d figure it out - that was their thing, after all.

He’s disturbed from his thoughts by the voice of another.

“A spark?” the older man prompts with a smile.

It’s almost frustrating when the words don’t come fast enough to keep up with his mind.

“When you’re expected to function at the highest levels, there’s a lot of moving parts underneath the shiny cover that no one really tells you about. Y/N has this intuitive sense and this unlearnable skill to take apart the most challenging complexities and put them back together into something wonderful.”

The studio falls silent. 

“She sounds lucky,” Mick offers sincerely.

Oscar laughs dryly. “The way I see it, I’m the lucky one. McLaren certainly is.”

Mickie’s expression is open, leaving the silence available for him to fill.

Oscar, on the other hand, isn’t quite sure how they ended up here. Talking about Y/N wasn’t a preplanned part of the segment, but he doesn’t seem to mind. It’s surprisingly nice to talk about something besides how hot it is in the car or the rabbit food  athletes have to eat or his opinions on the championship standings. 

And it probably doesn’t hurt that talking about her is really quite easy.

“It’s an incredible gift to meet someone who complements each of your strengths and your weaknesses completely. And if that person happens to be someone who can somehow challenge you and support you simultaneously, then there’s nothing more that I need.”

The boom mic edges closer to the stage setup, careful not to enter the cameras’ parameters of visibility. There’s a shift in tone that’s apparent, something curious and authentic that seems to wash across the studio and everyone in it.

“Will we be seeing this dynamic duo in action anytime soon then?” the interviewer asks, charismatically guiding the conversation towards its conclusion.

“I sure hope so. Maybe you guys can finally convince her to do some of those McLaren challenges with us,” Oscar smiles widely, that dorky, lopsided smile of his. “Trust me, I tried, but somehow she won’t let me drive her around for a Hot Lap. Wonder why that is,” he shrugs, before both men share a laugh.

A hand in the dark silently signals for them to wrap up, indicating that the segment must come to an end.

“Well then, Oscar I see we’re being told to wrap,” he smiles, glancing over in the direction of the crew. Both men begin to go to stand up, extending their arms for a friendly handshake.

“Thank you so much for joining us once again. As always, it was a pleasure, and I know I speak for everyone here at Down Under Daily when I say that we can’t wait to see what the future has in store for you.”

Oscar nods, smiling, giving the man a firm handshake. “Thank you.”

Once the segment wraps up and the overhead lights come back on, the studio buzzes with the hum of activity. Uniformed crew members unpack and disassemble various machines and setups, beginning to clear out the studio. Oscar glances around, but his gaze keeps drifting back to Y/N, who stands a few feet away, chatting with one of the technicians. Her laughter cuts through the noise, bright and genuine, making something warm unfurl in his chest.

“Hey,” he calls out, a casual attempt to draw her attention. When she turns, their eyes lock, and for a moment, the world around them blurs. There’s something in her expression that sends a jolt through him, a flicker of recognition and a hint of something deeper.

“Hey,” she replies, her smile easy but layered, like they’re sharing some inside joke that only they understand. He shifts slightly, suddenly a bit squirmish under her undivided attention.

Not that he gets squirmish, of course. Oscar is the picture of cool and collected.

As her eyes scan him, she notes the slight flush of his skin, the way the muscles of his face are tense ever so slightly. It’s honestly a bit refreshing to see someone who isn’t always unfazed by it all, she thinks. She does her best to offer him a reassuring smile.

“That went well,” she comments, her voice carrying a lightness that contrasts with the tension simmering beneath the surface. It’s the kind of praise that makes him feel seen, but also a bit exposed.

“Thanks. Couldn’t have done it without you,” he responds, his tone sincere. Oscar isn’t one of those fools who thinks the whole orchestra runs around him. Even  if it did, his mother didn’t raise him to be any bit unappreciative to everyone who works behind the scenes for his successes. He knows she’s more than just an assistant; she’s the one who keeps everything in motion, the anchor in the chaos.

Her gaze lingers on him, and for a moment, the air between them thickens. He’s acutely aware of the distance that’s very much there, yet it feels charged, like static before a storm. “I just do what I can,” she says softly, brushing a loose lock of hair behind her ear—an action so simple, yet watching it feels intimate.

Oscar looks away.

The moment stretches, and he senses a shift, a palpable tension that neither of them is ready to address. Memories of their almost-kiss hang between them, unacknowledged yet ever-present. He wonders if she feels it too, this strange blend of familiarity and hesitation.

The silence is uncomfortable in a familiar way, like the awkward pause that occurs when you can’t decide who should speak first. Oscar even opens his mouth to try to say something - though he’s not sure what - Y/N beats him to it.

“How’re you feeling?” she asks, her tone casual, but he detects a deeper curiosity behind her question.

“I guess just… figuring things out,” he replies, glancing down for a moment as he gathers his thoughts. There’s moments in the midst of the whirlwind of fame and fortune where it all truly feels surreal. Young Oscar always aspired to go fast, to push himself to the limit, to win, but this?

The spotlight, the admiration , the respect, the expectations? It was almost overwhelming, a heavy medal hanging around his neck that he’s still not used to wearing. Especially with the number of people that work day and night to give him a fighting chance at making his childhood dreams into reality, there’s no greater expectation than the one Oscar places on himself.

“Trying to get it right still, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, nodding, her eyes searching his. There’s an intensity in her gaze that makes his heart race, as if she’s peering into the part of him he keeps to himself. Briefly, he wonders if she can read his thoughts sometimes.

Like on one of those teleprompters they use for broadcasts and award shows.

He wants to say more, to delve into this strange thing swirling between them, but the words feel stuck, caught in a web. The awkwardness between them might as well be a loose screw in his car - keeping him at the edge of his seat as he navigates the clunkiness that replaces the flow he’s used to. “I keep waiting to get used to it, but it never seems to happen,” he says finally, hoping to keep the conversation light.

“True,” she agrees, her smile faint but genuine. “But you manage.”

“Most of the time,” he admits, letting out a soft laugh that feels half-hearted, both playful and tinged with something meaningful. Oscar may have grown into this suave, clever, mature personality that he’s recognized for, but there are times when he still feels like the lanky teen with the acne and the too-short hair that climbed into a Formula car that very first time.

As the crew clears the set, Y/N steps back, her focus shifting to the flurry of activity around them. Oscar feels the space between them widen, the moment suddenly dissipating like a whisk of smoke. He wants to reach out, to anchor her back to him, but the tide of reality keeps them away.

“Ready to head out?” she asks, her voice interrupting the stream 0f his personal thoughts. 

“Yeah,” he replies, an uncharacteristic hesitation slipping into his tone. He can feel the warmth radiating off her, and the longing rises within him, a familiar ache that refuses to fade. He elects to ignore it, in favor of using long strides to catch up with her quick ones to follow her out into the hall.

Oscar steals a glance at Y/N, her profile illuminated by the fluorescent lights, and he wonders what it would be like to bridge that gap. He recalls what it had been like the last time he'd been in such proximity to her - felt the warmth of body, the coolness of her breath, the ghost of her lips. For now, though, he settles into the silence, allowing the moment to hang between them.

Y/N leans against the small counter in her hotel room, the yellow light from the lamp seeming to warm the place. She stares at her phone, buzzing with a handful of messages, but her mind is tangled in thoughts of today’s interview. Hearing him casually mention her, smiling as he spoke, had left her feeling a mix of pride and confusion.

As she pours herself a cup of hot tea, she replays the almost-kiss in her mind - the way his breath had caught for just a moment. It felt like a line had been crossed, but they hadn’t addressed it. It hung in the air between them like an uninvited guest, and the last thing she wanted was to ruin the good thing they had.

Her phone buzzes again, the sixth time in the last half hour. This time, however, the contact name reads: Oscar. “How’s your evening?”

“Trying to figure out the chaos that is my notes,” she replies, glancing down at loose pages, and spiral books that are splattered across the coffee table.

“You always have chaos in your notes. It’s part of your charm.” His teases, knowing full well that no matter how chaotic her notes were, they were somehow still always loads better than his hurried scrawl.

The tone of the conversation feels light, teasing, friendly - but she’d be lying if she said it didn’t feel like something more—an unspoken understanding that neither of them wants to acknowledge.

“Charm, huh? I prefer to think of it as organized chaos.” She takes a sip of the warm herbal tea, now having cooled down to the temperature of her liking. It’s grounding these little rituals - which reminds her that she still needs to change out of her work clothes, maybe shower and do some skincare…

“Sure, if that makes you feel better,” he replies easily. Even just reading the words, she can practically hear the laughter in his voice. 

A moment later, he decides to add, “I was just about to put something on the TV. You in?”

In a hotel room just a ways down the hall, Oscar’s heart rate increases. What the hell are you doing? He chides himself. He feels stupid - things were already weird, and now he probably just made them even weirder.

Relax, he has to tell himself. This isn’t new - in fact, this is normal. Like before - friends, just relaxing together after a long day of work. Airplane games of monopoly, friday happy hours, movie nights - all of this was perfectly normal. Right?

Thumbs still hovering over her keyboard, she hesitates. The idea of sitting together, sharing popcorn and laughter, sounded nice, but there was the lingering possibility that things would be strange instead.

Instead she types out, “Maybe. What are you watching?”

She could use a night off, after all.

“Something mindless, one of those cable shows they have on this thing. You know, to balance all the brainpower we exert during the week.”

She had to admit, he did make it sound inviting.

“Mindless does sound good. I’ll join you.”Oscar props himself up a bit better, leaning back on his elbow. The smile on his face is lit up by the blue light of his phone screen as he reads her reply. Forcing himself out of the unexpectedly comfortable position he’d evolved into, he gets up, phone in hand, before starting to work to make his hotel room look a tad more presentable.

He was not having a repeat of this morning.

He types out a reply. “Great. I’ll set it up.”

There is a brief pause, and he wonders if he should clear the air, just in case. He really does just want to have a relaxing evening with her - it had been a long time since they last had the chance. Conjuring up some courage, he types out another message to her. “So, about the interview…”

Reading that, Y/N’s heart races. She didn’t want to overanalyze his words, but it was impossible not to. She decides to go for the safe answer. “You did well. Really.” So maybe he was just overthinking it. The praise lifts some of the weight off his chest.

“Thanks. Felt good to share some insights. And the part about you… well, it was true.”

Had he really meant all of it?

There’s a fluttering sensation in her stomach. “Just doing my job.”

“No, really. It means a lot to me. You’ve been here through so much of it.”

The sincerity of his words has her forgetting this tension for a moment, allowing it to slip into the back of her mind. They had a rhythm, a friendship built on shared experiences, but now it felt precarious.

“I just want you to succeed, Oscar,” she tells him, words honest. “That’s all.”

“And you’re doing your part brilliantly. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.”

His words hang in the air, thick with unspoken feelings. He’s said those same words a thousand times before, but for some reason, this one makes her heart skip. She shifts her weight, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. 

“So, movie?” she suggested, wanting to steer the conversation away before she can get too caught up in her own messy thoughts..

“Right. I’ll get it ready.” 

Rustling the duvet to make it appear slightly less misshapen. One of his hands seeks the remote to see what’s on at this time, and tries to pick the most tolerable option. Happy with his choice, he stalk over to the other side of his room, the show in the background acting as welcome background noise.

He then pulls out two packets of microwaveable popcorn from the welcome basket that had greeted him when he checked into the room, popping each of them into the microwave so the snack would be warm by the time she arrived.

Y/N stands outside the door to Oscar’s hotel room, feeling a mix of anticipation and nerves. Sure, she could use her emergency key card, but she decides that knocking feels less criminal. She knocks, and immediately the door creaks back to reveal his familiar face. His hair is mussed up, loose locks flopping to one side or the other. Her eyes are fogging with sleep, but  the smile he wears is warm and  sweet.

“Hey! Look who made it,” Oscar teases, stepping aside to let her in.

“Thought I’d save you from another night of mediocre cable,” she replied, a playful smile on her lips. 

She hopes it comes less nervous than she feels.

“Trust me, you’re in for a treat. It’s ‘Chef’s Disaster’ tonight. Guaranteed chaos,” he says,  leading her to the couch.

When she glances at the television that’s playing, she finds scenes of various chefs - forgetting ingredients, leaving the stove on too high,  accidentally dropping their dishes.

“Ah, the best kind of TV,” she laughs, settling in beside him. The pair of them end up on opposite sides of a generously-sized, two-seater couch. Her mind begins to whir, trying to figure out if she’s sitting too far, if it’s too late to scoot a bit closer, would that make things weirder? But when she looks over to Oscar, his relaxed figure sprawled across his side of the couch, the knot in her chest loosens a little. She allows herself to get more comfortable, curling up on her seat. Finally breathing a little bit easier, she allows herself to lean back against the cushioning.

The show flickers on, and they immediately fall into a comfortable rhythm. Y/N reaches for the bowl of popcorn he’d prepared, gathering a handful of pieces to then to slip into her mouth.

They watch as the chefs try to organize their chaos into something presentable, laughing as they watch one of the younger contestants put an unseasoned chicken into the oven.

What happened to salt? Pepper? Common sense?

In the darkness of the room, their faces are lit up only by the glow of the changing scenes flickering across the TV screen. With a subtly yawn, Oscar stretches his arms, before one coincidently drapes itself across the back of the couch, right behind Y/N’s shoulders. He can feel how her hair tickles the skin of his forearm, but it only makes him smile. He’d missed this - time together, the two of them. Life had a funny way of making people feel so close and so far all at once.

When she can’t help but giggle at someone who’d forgotten to put the lid on their blending before powering it on, Oscar can’t help but look at her.

Even at this awkward distance, even with her too far to touch - he feels lucky. He’d be happy to stay like this - to only hear her laugh instead of causing it, to watch her smile from the sidelines -  just to get to be in her orbit at all. 

He wonders if the world might stop spinning on its axis if that wasn’t the case.

His certainly would.

“Okay, chef,” Oscar said, nudging her. “What’s your go-to dish?”

Turning to glance at him, she can’t help but smile. Oscar’s smile is contagious like that, she supposes.

She hums, thinking over his question for a moment.

“Honestly? I make a pretty decent chicken alfredo. You’d be impressed,” she replied, a hint of pride in her voice.

“Pasta, huh? Fancy,” he teases, wiggling his eyebrows at her. His heart does a strange fluttery thing when she laughs. “The only thing I can make reliably is scrambled eggs,” he admits, chuckling.

“Hey, scrambled eggs are a classic! Hell, all the eggs I make end up scrambled. But you should branch out,” Y/N says with mock seriousness, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe I should give you cooking lessons sometime.”

“Deal,” he says, his tone shifting slightly. Raising his hands defensively, he adds, “But no promises on the outcome.”

As they watch the chefs struggle with absurd challenges, the initial awkwardness begins to fade. They exchange jokes about the contestants, their laughter echoing off the walls. They laugh until their stomachs hurt, adding in their own commentary until there are tears in their eyes and their cheeks hurt from laughing. “I actually hate you,” she wheezes, throwing her couch cushion at him. “My nonexistent abs hurt, you asshole. Can’t you be a little more considerate?”

He catches her projectile weapon with an exaggerated ‘oof’, defending himself. “I was just providing valuable insights, really.”

The silence that settles thereafter as they try to catch their breaths is comfortable in the way that graceful snowfall is - familiar and calming, peaceful.

“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever cooked?” he asks, turning to her.

Y/N has to hold back a giggle, recalling a memory. She can’t remember how long its been since she was able to let loose like this. “I once tried to make soufflé. I think by the time I was done with it, it fell under the legal definition of what the pros call, ‘hazardous materials.’”

Oscar bursts out laughing, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “That’s a tragedy! You should’ve brought it here as a surprise.”

“I’m sure. Next time, I’ll bring my ‘signature’ dish,” she replied, rolling her eyes playfully.

Tilting her head back, she lets her eyes slip closed for a second just basking in whatever this is. It’s difficult to think of the right word for it, but quite frankly, she doesn’t care. She just wants to bottle it up and keep it with her forever. Just as they start to find that comfortable groove, a sharp knock interrupts them. Immediately, they both lift their head to turn to look in the direction of the offending sound.

“You expecting someone?” Y/N asks, her heart sinking slightly. She tries to push the feeling away. “Who is it?”

“Probably someone who doesn’t know the meaning of ‘do not disturb,’” Oscar grumbles, shaking his head as he gets up to walk over to the door.

He stands up and walks toward the door, leaving Y/N to focus on the flickering screen. But her mind drifted back to the lingering tension between them, their easy banter feeling suddenly fragile.

She nervously fixes her hair, tucking the loose strands behind her ears. Making sure she looks professional enough - and not like they were sitting a mere centimeter apart - she turns toward the door. Finally, he slides the pin aside, unlocking the door as he pulls it back.

“Who is it?” she asks him quietly.

There’s a pause for a moment, before Lando’s familiar voice calls through. “It’s me,” he replies, and Oscar seems visibly annoyed. Lando peers over Oscar’s shoulder, noting Y/N perched on one of the couches in the room.

Good, both of them were here. That’d make this a bit easier.

“You need to see this,” Lando tells them, careful to keep his tone even. Oscar nods, stepping aside and opening the door wider to allow Lando in.

“Yeah, of course. Come on in,” she replies at the same time, making sure she looks presentable. Hopefully whatever Lando has to say will save her from whatever awkwardness was probably about to ensue.

Lando pushes into the room and instantly notices that the vibe is… something. It’s *very* obvious that he’s interrupted something, but he doesn’t comment on it. 

Interesting. He files the information away for later.

Instead, he holds his phone out in front of him, a news article pulled up on the screen.

“What is it?” Oscar asks, his gaze flickering between Lando and the screen.

Lando points to the small picture in the article, and Oscar’s jaw clenches, the muscle on the side of his face visibly pulled tight. Lando observes his teammate’s reaction, before he looks over to meet Y/N’s eyes. 

“You might want to read this,” he says gently, his voice low. “You’re mentioned in it.”

That doesn’t sound right.

“I- What?”

Lando briefly wonders what the likelihood is that the ground will physically swallow him whole. Or that he might turn invisible. Or anything that means he doesn’t have to explain this.

“I don’t-“ He cuts off, struggling to put his words together, sighing. “I don’t know how they got their information, but some of these details…”

Seeing Lando - normally smiley Lando - looking so painfully neutral despite the anxiety that flashes in his eyes, feels deeply unsettling. Like dark clouds at a wedding or an empty chair at a birthday party, seeing Lando like this feels ominous, wrong.

He hands her the phone, watching her as she takes it and begins to scan the text. Words and letters blend into a blur, her eyes reading through the article - speculation after speculation on her current health status and how she got hurt. It reads less like news and more like pure gossip tabloid rumors. 

There’s an odd sinking in her chest, some muscle winding itself tighter and tighter.

She can’t stop reading it, standing eerily still. Hidden amongst this clear violation of the privacy she’s held sacred for so long are some very specific facts that only Oscar and a select few other people should be able to know and recognize. 

“This is-“ she starts quietly, her breath hitching in her chest.

It’s quiet. “This is bad.”

Her eyes continue to scan the article, and her mouth goes dry. Even when she knows it’s all mostly bullshit, there’s still a part of her that feels a little violated, like there’s suddenly not enough oxygen in the room. This is her life - her past and her trauma put on display. The most traumatic years of her life suddenly available for the whole world to read about. 

She reads it yet another time, uselessly hoping for something to change, for the words to transform or dissipate like the final wisps of a nightmare.

“One has to ask—can you really call it a "dream job" when it lands you in the ER? Y/N L/N is clearly in need of a reality check. Whispers from insiders paint the picture of a young woman entangled in a life of chaos, fueled by impulsive decisions and reckless relationships. Is she simply a victim of her surroundings, or is there a more troubling narrative at play? Recently, Y/N was hospitalized with troubling injuries: extensive bruising and a suspected concussion, allegedly the result of a wild night that spiraled out of control. Sources suggest her aggressive tendencies may have exacerbated the situation, raising alarms about her behavior and its implications for McLaren. As Y/N navigates her tumultuous life, her influence over rising star Oscar Piastri comes into question. McLaren must now confront the uncomfortable truth: her erratic behavior could endanger Piastri’s career and the team’s reputation. The last thing they need is a scandal, especially when they’re striving for excellence on and off the track. The team's efforts to sweep this under the rug hint at deeper issues within their camp. Insiders are growing increasingly concerned that Y/N’s instability could tarnish McLaren’s hard-earned image, especially as rumors circulate. As Y/N begins her recovery, the pressure mounts on McLaren to manage the fallout. Fans and sponsors alike are watching closely, and the stakes couldn’t be higher. Ultimately, the future for Y/N is uncertain. Will she take this opportunity to change her trajectory, or will she continue to spiral, jeopardizing not only her own future but also the stability of McLaren? The racing world waits with bated breath, knowing that every decision could have lasting consequences.”

Lando’s expression is sympathetic as he watches her pale. Something guilty settles in his gut - he knows he didn’t cause this, but he doesn’t know how to protect her from it either. Lando has always held loyalty so close to his chest - growing up famous at such a young age forces you to learn that lesson quickly.

It's easy, then, to understand why Lando is the way he is. He's known for his friendly personality - his charismatic charm and his easy laugh - but there are a select few which Lando considers his closest friends. Those are people he answers even in the middle of the night, the ones he’d fly across the world to be there for.

But Y/N is standing in front of him like the very ground  has been pulled from beneath her feet and he can’t do a fucking thing. 

“Um, it’s- it’s okay,” she stammers, voice shaky. She tucks her hair behind her ears again, but they were never loose in the first place. A fragile mask of calm slips over her face, a familiar trick she’s performed thousands of times before

“I can take care of this. I- I’ll take care of this.”

Her heart feels like it’s stuttering in her chest but she knows better than to show it. Taking a short breath, she whirls around to make a beeline for her office. She’ll need to make a few calls, send emails to various liaisons and communication personnel, maybe reach out to HR and PR too-

“Hey, hey, stop.” Oscar reaches out and gently wraps his fingers around his bicep, spinning her around gently to face him. His eyes are worried as he searches hers for something true. He’s seen her upset before, but now her face is pale in a way he’s never seen before.

“Oh, right,” she chuckles awkwardly, suddenly remembering. “Lando, your phone.”

She holds the phone with the article displayed on it for Lando to grab, but she eyes the device like it’s very presence is toxic. She chuckles, but the sound is high pitched and forced. “Sorry, almost forgot!”

Lando slowly takes his phone from her, his eyes flickering between his friends for a moment.

“No worries, s’fine,” he says carefully, his eyes not leaving her face. “Are you actually okay?” That’s a stupid question, you idiot.

“Me?” she asks, as if caught off guard. “Yeah, yeah! I’m fine,” she answers, waving him off.

Oscars expression is stern, unconvinced - and he doesn’t bother to hide it.

“You seem a little, uh, upset,” he says delicately, his gaze flitting to her shaking hands. He immediately looks away, not wanting to draw any attention to it. He doesn’t want her to feel exposed.

“No it’s-” horrible, she wants to say. Instead, what comes out is, “It’s okay. I’m just trying to figure out what I need to do, that’s all.”

He hesitates, his brows furrowing at her attempts to downplay what’s happening.

“And your first thought is to go work?” he points out, a small hint of accusation in his tone.

It’s like she doesn’t even hear him.

“I’m going to fix this,” she tells him, giving both of them her most convincing smile, even as the corners of her mouth threaten to twitch downward.

Breathe.

And with that, she sees herself out of the room, already planning each action she needs to set into motion. She’s going to fix this.

a/n: thank you for reading this far! feedback means a lot to me. your likes, comments, reblogs, asks - that's the only way i can tell if you like the story so pls pls pls! all the feedback!!!

[gingerjolover]

Detangle - Julien Baker x fem!crew!reader

Synopsis: Julien's gf helps her get unready after BG's Halloween show at the Hollywood Bowl :') (jesus!julien x crew!reader)

G's notes: gf is lowkey a costume designer? she's crew, but I'm putting her on the same part of the team as makeup artist! also thank you guys for being patient, if only you could see my WIP in google docs rn....

wc: somewhere around 875?

warnings: RPF, jesus!julien, slightly smutty, some light kissin n touchin, no fundamental physical descriptors?

There are very few things that could tear your eyes away from watching your girlfriend headbang onstage while dressed as Jesus. In fact, the entire thing feels like a fever dream. From sourcing the angel costumes for the band, hand-bedazzling Lucy's jacket, sewing Phoebe's veil, and then soundcheck, the lead-up to the Halloween show has felt like a whirlwind.

You're entirely unfocused, eyes parading down Julien's body, only half listening to the cues for an outfit change. "Here," your assistant says softly, eyes sparkling while watching the stage in admiration. She's handing you the boys' original jackets in order of who comes off stage first. You smile at her, grateful she's paying attention while you ogle the somewhat sacrilegious display onstage.

It's within minutes everyone is rushing off to side stage, clothes flying everywhere. Lucy is undoubtedly the easiest to change, so you work with her quickly, carefully adjusting her halo on her head before switching out her white suit jacket for Julien's original jacket. "Thank you," she whispers, kissing your cheek lightly before dashing off, Julien appearing in front of you.

"Hi pretty girl," she says out of breath, leaning in to kiss your lips quickly, already stripping off her robes.

"Jay, leave them on...no don't do that, your hair!" you excalim, Julien obviously was not listening to you earlier when you were standing between her legs bobby-pinning the crown to her hair. "Sorry, sorry-I" Julien stammers as you help her readjust the robes on her shoulders, sliding Phoebe's original jacket over her, "It's okay, you having fun?" you ask with a big smile, kissing her gently.

"The best time ever, I love you," Julien mumbles agaisnt your lips, kissign you once more on your cheek before winking and heading back out.

Your assistant is rushing Phoebe back onto the stage when you both stand beside each other, taking a deep breath before watching the rest of the show. It goes by in a blink. Before you know it, everyone is filing off stage, much slower this time. Julien, Lucy, and Phoebe walk off holding hands, doing a quick but tender group hug right off-stage before they separate, and Julien comes bounding over to you, immediately scooping you up and spinning you around. "How was it?" she asks, mouth already attached to your neck. You can't help but giggle, holding her head as she finally puts you back on the ground. "It was amazing, as always," you say.

"Oh god," you say, looking at her hair, your fingers assessing how tangled the crown is in her hair. "Not God, just me...actually, I'm the son of God," Julien says, eyes wide in a cocky smirk, holding out her arms.

"You're so..." you start, moving Julien further backstage and into the room where y'all got ready. "Sexy? Intelligent? Holy?" Julien rattles off, wiggling her eyebrows as she walks backward, trusting you to walk her in the right direction. "I was going to say ridiculous, but the first two definitely," you smile, eyes twinkling. "Not so much the third one," you giggle. "Oh, why's that?" Julien smirks, sitting in the hair chair in the empty "glam" room. "I don't think it's holy to dress up as Jesus," you start to say, Julien looking up at you with wide, almost glassy eyes, a look common post-show. "And your underwear," you snort. "What about my underwear? It says for God's eyes only," Julien goads, leaning back in the chair, watching you grab a comb and some detangler. "God wasn't the only one looking," you smirk, standing between her legs. "No, he was not," Julien groans, holding onto your hips, "You did a lot more than look," Julien mumbles, smile widening.

"Don't get all worked up," you murmur, smirking, starting to detangle her hair, pulling one piece that was particularly tangled when she all but squeals. "Ow, babe," she exclaims, eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed as she leans back a pace, staring at you offended.

"What?"

"That shit hurts!"

"Well, maybe if you didn't headbang so hard, your hair wouldn't be intertwined with your crown right now," you scold softly.

She grumbles, letting you get about 75% of the crown out of her hair before she's whining again. "You're tugging too hard, princess, my neck hurts."

"Me tugging isn't making your neck hurt, seriously Jules, you headbang so hard on stage, and I'm scared you're gonna get whiplash."

"Can't help that I'm a rockstar," she mumbles, finding your eyes before rolling them teasingly before hissing when you pull a chunk of hair.

"Stay still," you giggle, kissing her nose softly. Within 5 minutes, the rest of the crown is out, and you're handing it to Julien so she can keep it. "C'mon, we can pack up and get you unready at the house. Sounds like backstage is filling up," you comment. You can hear the voices of the various friends and peers who came to see the show down the hallway.

"Thanks, angel," Julien whispers, smirking softly as she uses the pet name, hopping off the chair and pulling you into her arms, dipping you ever so slightly to press a passionate kiss to your lips. "Vacation time starts now," she whispers teasingly, her hands in the back pockets of your pants, squeezing gently.

[toxicanonymity]

Halloween anon did mean the latest gif set you reblogged lol. Your writing is so immersive! 🚬💚

Helping stepdad!Joel with his tie

500 / stepdad!Joel x f!reader

Halloween Anon asked: The gif set of Pedro doing his tie makes me think of like stepdad! Joel or DBF!Joel dressing up as the devil or a vampire for Halloween and it gets hot. I needed to tell someone that. / gif from @pedgito / dbf version here

The last time you saw Joel in something other than joggers and a t-shirt was  Halloween.  You came over to ride with your Mom and Joel to a family friend’s Halloween party an hour away.  Your mom wasn’t really dressed up but had an angel halo and wings.  You were in a short, red, bat-print dress and fishnets.  You already sent him a snapchat earlier to which he sent a snap of his hand resting against an obvious bulge in his joggers with the caption,  “Jesus, you really need to wear that?” 

 “Joel, we’re gonna be late!” your Mom called upstairs, then asked you “Would you go see what’s taking him so long?” Meanwhile, your Mom went to take the dog for a walk. 

-

You went up to their bedroom and saw Joel concentrating really hard trying to do his tie in the mirror.  Poor guy probably wears a tie less than once per year. You slinked up and hugged him from behind.    His shirt was stretched over his pecs.

“What are you doin’ in here?” he asked and shrugged you off, looking nervously at the door. 

“She’s walking the dog.  Told me to check on you. Can I help?” 

“No. Still don’t know why the hell you’re wearin’ that, either.”   You wrapped your arms around him again and watched in the mirror as he continued to struggle with the  tie.  He either didn’t want to shrug you off again or was concentrating too hard to care.  

You ran your hand up his stomach then grabbed a pec, and you watched in the mirror as a tent grew in his pants.   

“Can I help with that?”  You slid your other hand lower, but when you got to his belt, he turned around and said. “The tie.  Fine.  You can help with the tie.”  

You took one side of the tie in each hand and pulled him into you.  He looked straight up at the ceiling, getting his head out of the way.  You pressed your nose against his neck and inhaled his balmy aftershave, dragging your nose a few inches.  You felt something hard against your dress. 

“Let’s get on with it,” he said, glancing toward the door again. 

“You’re telling me,” you said. 

“With the tie.  Just finish the damn tie.” 

You finished the tie quite easily.  You started to flip the collar down then said “I kinda like it up.” 

“I look like a vampire with it up,” he replied.  You kind of liked the idea of secretly coordinating with him – you covered in bats, he as a vampire, same color scheme.

You pressed yourself up against him for a hug and he indulged you for a moment.  He inhaled your hair and ran his hand down the back of your dress, grabbing a handful of ass. The hard shape swelled against your dress and made you throb.    

The front door opened downstairs and your Mom was back with the dog. “ALL READY UP THERE?” she screamed.  

“Yep! All good,” you yelled back.  

He put down his collar and grabbed his devil horns which were actually pretty well done  You looked down at his pants and he rolled his eyes and adjusted himself before going downstairs.   

“You sure you need to wear that?” he murmured again on your way downstairs.  

[crowleyholmes]

Guys help I think Crowley is possessing me I am very suddenly overcome by such a WAVE of love for Aziraphale????

I mean I've always loved him but Jesus Christ it just got turned up to 100 suddenly I mean he's just so GOOD isn't he???!!!

He's so kind and he's so nice and he's so PRETTY I mean have you seen him in his little outfit with the comfortable-old-couch waistcoat he refuses to ever take off and the silly little bowtie he thinks is so stylish and you know it actually KIND OF IS but ONLY on him??!?! and that beige coat that suits him so well and he just looks so well put together and also so soft and cozy at the same time like HAVE YOU SEEN HIM???

And he's so gentle and he's so full of love for everyone and everything and he always tries So Hard to do the right thing... and he's so ready to change his mind about what The Right Thing is when he is presented with new information like that is such a rare trait!

And he's so FUN, you know all his weird little hobbies I mean who collects old prophecy books and misprinted bibles ONLY this weirdo!! And he's so obsessed with silly little magic tricks that aren't even magic at all when he could very easily do real magic instead but noooo, making people think you're doing real magic when your Not Actually doing real magic is so much more fun apparently idk??? And he collects licenses (shooting guns, driving cars, literally who knows what else, at this point I wouldn't be surprised if my guy knew how to scuba dive and fly a plane), and he learned French the hard way just because?? He likes learning I guess?? And he's so bad at it, it's so silly it's Infuriating but it's also so endearing he's taking such JOY in it!!

And maybe you'd THINK that's all he is, sweet little goofball, but no!!!! Beneath all that soft exterior, this very intentionally soft and fun and kind exterior that he's carefully cultivated for millennia, he's also so incredibly brave. I think about how he was ready to face the thing he feared the most, to save three innocent kids. He was so ready to give up everything he had, fall from grace and spend eternity in hell, just so these kids could live. Just so that family would be spared the grief. Just so they could have a few more short years of human happiness. He lied to his boss for justice and he lied to GOD for justice and he somehow got away with it who does that??? AZIRAPHALE IS WHO. And he Never backs down did you see him pick up his little sword at almost-Armageddon when Lucifer himself rose from hell to end it all and my angel was ready to fight Satan Himself if he had to HELLO???

And then he blew up his halo and casually declared war on hell to save two humans and his former boss and his bookshop what a fucking badass!!?!?

And have I mentioned how pretty he is yes I have but it's worth mentioning again because have you seen his eyes?? Color of the fucking sky, they are, and his nose is so perfectly shaped and his stupid lips with his stupid cupid's bow, and his hair!! Is just so Damn soft it's and I just want to watch him be himself and do his thing but I also want to HOLD him and protect him and keep him safe from everything because if anything ever happened to him I-... UGH.

I don't KNOW.

I JUST LOVE HIM SO MUCH.

[mumifyy]

Can I please request a Vox x Angel Female Reader?

Who just took Vox's Heart(Not literally ofcourse) with just a simple smile and wave

A/N: Ooo this is so cute 😭🙏 // also this is not proof-read!

————

VOX x ANGEL!F!READER

HEADCANNONS 💙

————

Originally, you had died giving away your life for your sickly mother and ended up in heaven.

Only months had passed when you were in Heaven until you were wrongly sent to hell cause someone had framed you.

You didn’t loose your halo nor wings so you had to hide them which was hard but you managed

While looking for a job in hell to actually live, you came across Vox walking down the opposite side of you

You didn’t really know who he was all you knew is that he was famous considering all of the paparazzi following him around (he’s enjoying tf outta it)

Vox’s face was stoic so you did your usual smile and wave and walked past him to be on your way

Unlike the paparazzi, Vox noticed your sweet smile and looked shocked, looking down at the paparazzi and shooing them away angrily before looking at your now disappeared figure.

He was bummed of course but brushed it off as a fan girl

Except he thought about you every once in a while

How could anybody IN HELL smile and wave????

He only saw that on earth?

That’s when he started to look for you on the cameras

Everytime he saw you in the cameras he blushed like crazy

Vox wondered why such an angelic person like you ended up in hell

So when you came into his building asking for work he instantly put you as his personal assistant

You barely worked only just getting him coffee and staying by his side

You didn’t mind working like that for a shit ton of cash coming your way

Not like you needed it badly

But you enjoyed it

You soon came to love being around him

You knew he was dangerous but you didn’t care

After a while you guys started going on outings

He paid for everything and was an absolute gentleman for you

But in the inside was gushing over how pretty you looked in your sundress

After a a couple months or so he starting to court you

Giving you flowers and more hugs then usual

And finally after a week of him doing this

He asked you out and you both had a great time

Soon also asking you to be his girlfriend

You said yes ofc (I hope so cause why you reading this if no 🤨)

————

General head cannons lols

Vox definitely flirts with you behind doors

And in public

Gives you flowers every now and then

Whenever he’s working, you’ll just come in there and give him your cookies you had just baked and give him a kiss and leave

You wouldn’t even be able to cause now your on his lap feeding him the cookies you made

He LOVES making you flustered

Definitely smacks your ass just randomly

Will sometimes just kiss you on the cheeks and gush over you

*ssmooochhhh*

“Jesus fuck babe I love you I can’t even get enough of you”

LOVES spooning you

Tells you he hates it when you dot on him but loves it secretly and you know it

Definitely sleeps with the ‘V’ logo on his screen like the DVD thingy

THISSSS ^^^

Whenever your on your period he’ll cancel most the stuff he has to do for work and comfort you the best he can

WILL invite you to some podcasts

And will show you off like

“This is my girlfriend, the best girlfriend, the most BEAUTIFUL girlfriend, and I love her.”

“and y’all can’t have her.”

“Losers”

While sometimes bury his face in your chest after a long day

Is an ass man 🙏

He’s prolly both actually Ngl..

More of an ass man though :P

Will do skincare with you (he was forced)

“Babe what’s the point of doing this when my head is a TV???”

“Oh yeah…. I forgot about that”

“Doofus”

“I’m gonna change your channel-“

You: *puts on any kind of chapstick or lip product*

Vox: “what’s the flavor?”

Before you can even answer he kisses you

Vox: “mmmm Vanilla”

He loves Vanilla and coffee

Or lavender

If you where any perfume like it he’ll just *SNNNNIIIIIIIFFFFFFF*

“Mm.. you smell” *sniffs your neck* “so good what are you wearing??”

WILL spoil tf outta you

Like YOU HAVE ENOUGH MAKEUP JESUS

Loves when you make any kind of handmade gift

It’s better than any kind of store bought gift

Like the TikTok’s of the handmade cards of just TONS of reasons why you love him

He would gush and hug you <3

[urfrenfishy]

Do You Hear Marimbas?

A New Jersey Rats Short Story - M4A - Implied Masc Presenting Listener

I do not own these characters they are all made by the wicked @escapedaudios , this is a fan fiction of said characters :)

notes: this is my first time writing on tumblr please be nice idk how to format this shit, also this takes place a month after the new orlean rats

Intern breathed in, breathed out. This is meant to be fun, it’ll be fun...right?

It had been weeks since Jean and the brothers had told them about Stacy. It had been weeks since they and the brothers planned this. They had weeks of rehearsals. Alone.

Why was this so different? Jean and the brothers the only audience members and they rented out the whole fucking building! Jean won't care if they mess up, he wasn't even aware this was happening to begin with.

God, what were they thinking?! Oh yeah, let's put Intern on a stage in some fancy clothes and they'll sing all sexy for Jean! At a rented-out jazz club! They're sure that's exactly what Jean would like as an impromptu seven-month anniversary gift. A reminder of his ex.

God, they'll probably look so pathetic. Like really? Jazz singing just because his ex was a singer? Talk about insecurity.

But...wait no- this was never a jealousy thing. At least, they never wanted it to be. Well, maybe a little- but come on, you find out your lover's ex was a sexy jazz club singer, and he settled for an accounting intern who has about the same amount of social skills as a Batman villain. You'd feel a little insecure too.

So- no, they wouldn't say this was a jealousy thing, because they knew that Jean wouldn't leave them, or at least, wouldn't leave them over Stacy. They weren't worried about Stacy. Maybe...maybe they just wanted to prove they could be as...cool as she was? Yeah. Cool. They'll try their best.

----------

"Aight Jean, sit right...there," Badaboom explained as he gripped Jean's shoulders.

"Guys- what's- what is going on right now? I mean, when you put a sack over my head and shoved me in the driver's seat of a car- only to make me drive. With the sack still on my head. Honestly, I don't even know how we survived the trip but- Anyway! What- what are we doing at a jazz club? And why-"

As Jean prattled on, Badabing sat him down, front row. And cut him off because Jesus Christ, Jean.

"Okay okay okay- Jean- Jeany boy, just- just chill out alright? You're gonna like this, we promise!"

The music started (a slightly pitched-up version of Michael Bublé's Sway) and Jean couldn't help but grunt a witty remark.

"You promising anything doesn't actually promise any-"

Then they walked out, he heard them even before he saw them. The click of heels against waxed tempered hardboard. As he turned his head, he felt time slow. They..He had never felt like this before. There was no way to describe it. He couldn’t believe they settled for him. 

At first, he only saw their shoes, he didn't realize they would be so close. Then their legs, god- their legs. Finally, he was able to meet their eyes, only to find they were already locked on his. They weren't wearing their glasses, could they even see him? Doesn't matter. The spotlight behind them, a halo. An angel.

Then they started to sing.

Jean wasn't even listening to the lyrics. Just them. Just their tone. Their cadence. Their eyes. God, he loved them so much.

As the first verse began, they lifted the mic off of its stand and started walking, never breaking their gaze. Jean had never seen them like this. Sure, they knew how to set a mood, and they were pretty charismatic when they wanted to be, but this. Their confidence. Even the way they walked- it was a strut, honestly.

He could feel Badabing staring at him with a shit-eating grin.

"Yeah you're definitely bi-cycleul or however you say it..."

Jean couldn't afford to look away so he just sort of.. whacked his hand around the shorter man's general vicinity to shut him up.

A music break. A moment to focus on the physical alone. And god knows there was a lot to focus on.

Where did they even get that outfit? Jean had never seen it before, did they buy it just for this? Well- yeah that would make sense they had enough money for a lifetime supply of new outfits if they wanted.

Their skin shined under the spotlight, so did their clothes, their hair. But somehow their eyes were always visible- never drowned out in beams.

And soon they were singing again.

"Other dancers may be on the floor,"

Every sway and footstep was a dance. Jean couldn't even imagine how much time they put into this.

"Dear, but my eyes will see only you,"

They stared at him, into him. They reached their hand out to him and it took everything for him not to reach back, he could even feel his hand starting to rise all on its own.

"Only you have that magic technique,"

They receded their hand, twisting the mic back onto its stand and jutting it beside them as if it were their dance partner.

"When we sway, I go weak."

Their knees bent and the mic was dipped, their eyes shut as they held the note, and their eyebrows curled upwards; they almost looked sad. It was beautiful. Jean wasn't ashamed to say he was pretty envious of the mic at that moment.

As they seamlessly transitioned from lyric to lyric, Jean was positively awed. How could they sing a line so- so...seductively? Then immediately jump to the next lyric like it didn't even happen! It was like magic. Hypnosis.

The last chorus, the last verse. Jean didn't think he would survive.

Each note just kept climbing higher, he didn't know they had a range like...like this. Sure, he had heard them singing in the shower occasionally, or in the kitchen when they thought he couldn't hear but...never like this.

They held onto the mic and reached down to Jean, their glove becoming God's hand, and Jean had become their Adam. If only Michelangelo could see humanity now.

The final note was held. Their head momentarily snapped to the left to briefly bend into the mic before it snapped back forward again. And the performance was over. Jesus. Christ.

----------

They did it. They actually did it. Holy shit, they- they didn't think they'd actually be able to. Knowing their luck they would have tripped on a cord or had a voice crack so bad they'd permanently lose their voice or something but, no they- they really did it!

Sure they probably strained some notes at the end there, and they were so sweaty. Those lights were so hot. They hoped it didn't show. Jean was still staring. Did he like it? He looked like he liked it, but- you can never tell can you?

They were breathing so heavily. This outfit felt so heavy. They really hoped he liked it. They just kept their eyes on him.

Clapping. Oh- The brothers were clapping. Cheering even. And Jean followed. He stood up, cupping his mouth and practically yelling in support. He was always so supportive.

Jean ran up to the edge of the stage as they walked to him. He practically jumped them as he helped them off the edge. Just as their shoes grazed the floor, Jean's arms were already around them.

"Sweetheart that was- I- I don't even have the words-"

They laughed, and he laughed with them. They were so relieved. He didn't think it was weird.

"I'm...I'm just glad you liked it," They rested their hand on his chest, his heart was pounding.

"Liked it? Of course, I liked it, you- you were...I mean- you were fucking gorgeous," His voice grew quiet as his forehead rested on theirs. They loved it when he did this. They felt so close.

They felt even closer when he kissed them. Definitely closer then.

"Alright lovebirds, cut it out, don't make us singles feel too homicidal," Badabing blurted as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"I don't know, I 'tink it's sweet," His taller brother defended.

"Well, no one asked you, did they?"

Intern always was amazed how those two could turn anything into an argument. The 'lovebirds' chuckled to each other at the sight. Then they felt him tugging on their hand. They turned, he was pulling them towards the stage.

As they walked, the intern gripped his hand tightly and whispered, almost overtaken by the noise of the brothers.

"What are you doing?"

Jean smiled and turned his head to them as they both walked up the steps of the stage, "Taking us backstage."

Oh? Backstage? Alone? Well damn, they thought they performed well but not that well, but they're not complaining.

As soon as the two of them got into the wings, the intern was met with another kiss, a deeper kiss than before.

"Baby- Do- are we really gonna do this here? I mean Badabing and-"

Jean cut them off. His hands gripped their arms.

"You didn't do this because of Stacy right?"

And just like that. Mood, gone. Jean had an unparalleled ability to do that. Intern probably wasn't much better. It took them a second to respond.

"That's...a good question actually, I don't...think so?"

He stared at them, his lips pursed.

"You don't...think.. so?"

"Well- I- Okay it's not- I'm not jealous. I swear to god I'm not. I just...I don't know- I guess- I guess I just wanted to prove myself," They looked down, smiling at the stupidity of it all.

He tilted his head in confusion and inched closer.

"Prove yourself of what?"

"To prove to myself that I'm worthy of you?"

Jean sighed, managing a sad smile. His hands slid from their arms to their back, pulling them towards him. A hug. He breathed in the scent of their hair and they breathed in the scent of his shirt.

"You don't have to prove anything, honey, you've already got me," Jean comforted while he rubbed their back.

"I know," They dug their fingers into his shirt, the fabric felt cool compared to how high their body temperature was.

He slid his hands down and hugged their waist and began to shift his weight back and forth. Soon, so did they. Swaying.

Jean kissed the top of their head.

"I love you so much."

They smiled into the crook of his neck, he felt it.

"I love you too." 

[kittenfangirl20]

*Charlie was freaking out, she was told a high ranking official from Heaven wanted to help the hotel, he was said to believe in her mission of redemption very much, she then met the guy with Vaggie, he was very nice looking with olive toned skin, curly dark brown hair that went to his ears, bright green eyes, and a short beard, his halo looked like a golden crown of thorns*

Yeshua: Hello Charlie, my name is Yeshua though I have been called JC by my friends too.

Charlie: It is so nice to meet you.

*Charlie excitedly shook Yeshua’s hand and was a little disturbed to see a hole in his wrist as if a rather large nail was driven through it, while giving a tour Vaggie pulled her aside*

Vaggie: Do you realize how important this is.

Charlie: Not really, he seems nice.

Vaggie: Nice is one way to put it, most people don’t him as Yeshua. You would know him by the name Jesus, the Son of God and the Prince of Heaven.

Charlie: Wait, that Jesus. That is so amazing that he wants to help. When I heard someone high ranking wanted to help, I thought it may be a seraphim or an archangel, not the co ruler of Heaven.

[brewsterispunkk]

THE TUTOR

part 3/4

pairing: eddie munson x reader, eddie munson x f!reader

WC: 3k

summary: eddie and reader check something off their list: drunken confessions ensue. also: queer!eddie. if you don’t like it, get the hell out!

a/n: yall I wrote half of this high out of my mind lolz ALSO—you may now know: the tutor will now have FOUR parts. I couldn’t squeeze all I wanted into three, so here you go! as always: pls give me feedback!!!

THE TUTOR

You walked into the cafeteria with a mission: to make Eddie Munson rue the day he was born.

It’d happened five minutes before. You’d been walking to your locker, half looking over your shoulder to see if Thomas Reed would rear his head again, when you saw it.

There he was, Thomas Reed, head bent down toward the floor, trying (and failing) to hide a bruised eye and bloody lip. He wouldn’t meet your eyes as you passed. In fact, it almost looked like he was cowering.

You would’ve enjoyed it too, had you not known exactly who had given him the shiner and had you not explicitly asked that person not to get involved.

Thomas was a jock. He ran in the same circles as people like Tommy Hagan, one of Steve’s old buddies, and Jason Carver, who had some kind of personal vendetta against Eddie. So not only would this mean repercussions for him, but it would mean repercussions for you. And the last thing you needed was more of what Thomas and his friends had already put you through.

So, yes. You were going to rip Eddie a new one.

You heard the heavy doors shut behind you as you scanned the bustling cafeteria.

It was sixth period lunch—the most busy time of the day—but you didn’t care. You could feel the anger rise in you.

Your eyes snapped to the far side of the cafeteria where Hellfire club sat every day.

You narrowed your eyes.

You gripped the straps of your backpack as you made a beeline toward the table of misfits and nerds. Eddie sat at the head of the table like some kind of metal Jesus, his hair a halo around his head in the sunlight. You’d have thought it was cute had you not been so mad.

“Eddie Munson!” You growled as you approached the table, your hand gripping his shoulder tight.

“Jesus—hello to you too,” he looked over his shoulder at you, alarmed.

The rest of the Hellfire club looked at you like you’d grown a second head.

Right, you thought. They had no idea you and Eddie had ever even spoken, nevertheless were friends.

You recognized a few of the kids from classes over the years; you knew Jeff from gym class, and Gareth had been your lab partner last year. Then, there were Dustin, Lucas, and Mike who were more surprised than all of them.

You didn’t have time to think about that, though. All you could focus on was how mad you were at Eddie.

“What the hell were you thinking?” You hissed, yanking him out of his seat by the arm.

“What are you—oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

Eddie’s eyes glazed over with cockiness, and a smirk made its way onto his face.

“Some of my best work, honestly.”

You pushed his shoulders back.

“Eddie, what the fuck?”

“What?” He shook his head and furrowed his eyebrows. “Why are you so mad? He’s an asshole. He’s lucky I didn’t call the cops—”

“I asked you not to do anything.”

“I—what?”

You took a breath.

“I asked you not to get involved,” you said levelly. “Now, who knows what he’ll pull.”

Eddie stared at you wide-eyed, before darting his eyes to the table of boys beside him, still staring wide eyed at the two of you. A few others from neighboring tables had turned their heads to look at you as well.

Eddie sighed.

“Care to take a walk?” He asked, side-eyeing the rest of the lunchroom.

“Fine.”

- - - -

The wood of the picnic table was cold against your thighs.

“I’m sorry, you know.” Eddie rubbed his chin. “I didn’t know you’d be so upset. And I didn’t think about Jason and his goons.”

You huffed.

“To be completely honest, I’ve been looking for an excuse to beat that guy’s ass for a while,” he plopped down on the bench next to you, too close. Not close enough. You could smell the cologne he’d put on this morning.

Every time Eddie got too close to you, all you did was want, want, want.

“He was my lab partner sophomore year,” he offered, shoulder brushing yours. “He told everyone I was a fag because he caught me kissing Chase Whitaker behind the bleachers.”

You turned to him, surprised. He smiled at you and elbowed you gently.

“C’mon,” he leaned into you. “You can’t tell me you never heard about that.”

“I did, I just never thought that—”

“---it was true?”

“Well,” you balked, feeling your stomach sink. Not because he was gay, but because you’d fallen completely besotted for someone you could never have. “Yeah.”

“Well, they got one part about the Freak right.”

“Don’t call yourself that.” You nudged him. “Who cares if you like boys, I still—”

“I like girls, too, you know.” He said quietly, mouse-like. He sounded more quiet than you’d ever heard him. “Like Bowie.”

“Like Bowie,” you laughed a little.

“Hm,” he peeked at you from the corner of his eyes, smiling. “Anyway, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Call it pent-up rage or something, but the moment I saw him with his hands on you, I—”

“It’s okay, Eddie,” you leaned into him, causing the two of you to sway in the late autumn breeze. “I overreacted. I don’t know, sometimes I’m just afraid…”

“...the worst is going to happen?” He added for you after a moment.

“Hmm, yeah.”

You didn’t know how to answer him. Because, yes, that was true, but it was so much more than that. It was your entire world being turned upside down and Russians interrogating you and billy Hargrove being practically ripped to pieces in Starcourt and—

“Hey, you okay?”

You frantically blinked, shaking your head.

“Yeah,” you said. “Yeah, I’m just cold. It really is freezing out here.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Eddie laughed, standing up. He rubbed his hands together and breathed into them. “Here, take my coat.”

“What? Eddie no–”

“Don’t be a martyr,” he rolled his eyes, thrusting the leather jacket into your arms. “Take the damn jacket.”

You smiled, slipping your arms into the coat. It was still warm, and his scent clung to it. It was deep and woodsy and smelled a little bit of weed and a lot of boy. You wanted to crawl inside and make a home there.

“We should probably be heading back,” you said. “What time is it?”

Eddie looked at his watch, then at you, sheepish.

“12:50,” he squinted.

You contemplated. You were already twenty minutes late to class: what was the point of going anyway?

“Hm,” you sighed. “Wanna just skip the rest of the day?”

“God, yes.”

- - - -

“I don’t know about this,” Eddie actually looked nervous, his dark hair spread around his head as he laid on the floor of your living room.

You’d decided to move tutoring to your house a few weeks ago, now that winter had hit. It was two weeks before winter break, and Ms. Taylor’s midterm was coming up. You’d been studying tirelessly for days at your house while your mom worked nights, eager for someplace other than the library for peace and quiet.

“What?” You leaned over your textbook from your place on the couch. “Since when am I the one who has to convince you to do things?”

“Since those ‘things’ require me to rub elbows with Steve Harrington for a whole evening.”

“Oh my god, you’re so dramatic!” You laughed.

“I’m a theatre kid, sweetheart.”

“Obviously,” you rolled your eyes. “It’ll be a part of the deal, anyway. I wanna get absolutely plastered this weekend. Steve and Robin will just happen to be there also.”

“I don’t know. I don’t like him.”

“He’s my friend.” you stated. “Don’t you trust my judgment?”

“Well, yes–”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I just don’t know,” he picked at a string on the sleeve of his shirt.

“Ed, he’s been wondering why I keep bumming rides off of you instead of him. And Robin will be there too.”

“And did you tell him about our little arrangement?”

“No,” you scowled at him. “I told him we’re friends.”

Eddie blinked in surprise, sitting up to face you. He was close enough like this that you could smell his cologne, the cigarettes on his breath.

“We’re friends?”

“Well, uh…” you all of a sudden felt insecure. What if you’d misread this? What if you’d been wrong, and this was purely transactional?

“Yeah, I mean, aren’t we?” You squeaked.

There was a beat of silence, before his lips stretched into a grin.

“Yeah, honey, we are.”

“Then why won’t you go to this party with me?” You pushed.

“Ugh, fine!” Eddie threw himself back on the floor. “If you will stop nagging me.”

“Yes!”

“---and, you order us a pizza.”

“Done.” You smiled, walking over to the landline in the kitchen.

You dialed the number to your favorite pizza place and Eddie came to lean on the counter beside you. The phone rang as you waited for the call to go through.

“Hey.”

“Hmm?”

“Will you let me do your eyeliner for the party?”

You looked at him in surprise, expecting to find the usual look on his face that he made when he was joking. Instead, you found curiosity. Sincerity.

“Hell yeah,” you nodded. “As long as I don’t look like a member of KISS.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and you laughed, excited for the coming weekend.

- - - -

You were two drinks in, and were absolutely positive Eddie hated Steve.

You’d known you didn’t like him, but you didn’t think it was this bad.

When you and Eddie had arrived, you’d made a beeline for your two best friends, who were standing near the bowl of jungle juice in the kitchen.

The party was at a friend of Robin’s this time—a girl from band whose parents were out of town. She was cool; in that edgy, artsy, punk way that all of Robin’s other friends were. So, you’d had her help you pick out your outfit earlier in the week.

You knew Eddie would be doing your eyeliner, so you wanted to dress to match it. Robin had picked out an off-the-shoulder band tee from her own closet. It was a Fleetwood Mac shirt of her father’s that she’d cut up. She paired it with fishnets and a pair of chunky boots. You silently thanked God that you were the same shoe size. You’d thrown on a sheer pair of black tights and finally, she’d convinced you to wear the jean skirt again. And, it had taken some convincing, especially after what happened with Thomas. But, you wanted to turn heads. Particularly Eddie’s.

After a quick and awkward greeting between the four of you, you and Robin excused yourself from the stilted conversation to use the restroom. Robin held your arm as she dragged you behind her to the bathroom.

“Excuse me, coming through,” she narrowly dodged another kid you recognized from band.

Once you made it to the bathroom, she shoved you in before shutting the door behind her.

“Oh my god, that was the awkwardest moment of my life,” she sighed, leaning against the bathroom door.

You leaned against the counter.

“Seriously,” you scoffed. “I mean what the hell was that? ‘Long time, no see,’ really, Steve?”

“God, he’s hopeless.”

“I’m gonna tear my hair out.”

“I don’t think Mr. Munson would like that,” Robin smirked at you. You balked.

“What? What is that supposed to mean?”

She gave you a once-over.

“You look hot. That’s what that’s supposed to mean. And Eddie definitely noticed.”

“You’re crazy,” you shook your head, turning to inspect yourself in the mirror.

“He was practically frothing at the mouth.”

“Ew, Robs.”

“Just saying.”

She moved beside you, fixing her lipstick. Your eyes trailed over your reflection.

You looked… striking. Your hair was teased up and voluminous, thanks to whatever magic Robin had worked with the blow dryer. Your lips were painted a light berry color, and Eddie had penciled your eyeliner to perfection. You felt dangerous—in a good way.

“Whatever. We’re just friends, unfortunately.”

“Hmm,” Robin patted her cheeks, before looking at you. “‘Just friends’ don’t look at each other like that.”

Your breath stuttered. Was it that obvious?

You threw your hands over your eyes, cringing.

“Oh god,” you groaned. “Don’t tell me I’m that obvious.”

“You are,” she leaned on the counter. “But only because it’s me. Him on the other hand…”

“Don’t play around, Robs.”

“I’m not!” She assured you. “I swear I could feel the tension myself. He’s into you. Trust me.”

“No, it’s not that simple. He’s only hanging out with me because of the—”

Because of the deal.

There it was. Underneath it all, you were terrified the only reason Eddie was giving you the time of day was because he felt bad for you. Because he felt like he owed you. You cringed.

“Because of what?”

You sighed.

“Because I’m tutoring him. Because I’m a recluse. Because the only reason anyone knows who I am is because of my formerly-popular best friend.”

Robin rolled her eyes and pulled you into a hug.

“You’re so dramatic.” She said. “We both know Harrington isn’t the reason either of us are popular.”

“Or not popular.” You corrected.

“Look, for real?” Robin pulled back, hands on your shoulders, locking her gaze with yours. “That’s bullshit. All of it. And don’t think anyone could give less of a shit about what they ‘should’ do than Eddie. If he’s hanging out with you, it’s because he wants to.”

You smiled at her, wishing she was right.

“Besides, he was practically undressing you with his eyes,” she added nonchalantly.

“What?”

“Seriously, it was hard to watch,” she eyed your legs. “Can’t blame him, though. The skirt was a good choice.”

You snorted, before grabbing her arm and pulling her out the door with you.

- - - -

Two hours later, you were drunk.

Sloshed, if you will.

You’d had two beers, a shitty vodka cran, and three rum and cokes. Long story short: the room was spinning, and your chest felt light and giddy.

You giggled to yourself as you stumbled into the brightly-lit kitchen.

Guess me and Eddie can cross this off my list, you thought, leaning on a countertop.

Across the kitchen island was Steve, leaning his elbow on a counter and towering over a short girl with braids.

You smirked to yourself—this was his conquest-stance. The confidence in his shoulders told you he liked this girl. He was making a move.

You turned to your right, eager to tell Robin. The two of you had been practically begging Steve to go on a date for the better part of a month; you’d had enough of his complaining about being single.

But when you turned, Robin wasn’t there. You frowned, before looking back over to Steve, who was kissing braid-girl. Around them, the room seemed to spin. The yellow light cascaded off of the light fixture above the island and you blinked rapidly.

You frowned harder, turning on your heel to leave the kitchen. You needed to find Robin. You needed to find—

“Woah,” two warm hands caught your shoulders as you stumbled into a tall man with a white tshirt on. “There you are.”

Your forehead bumped his chest, before you jerked away from the stranger.

“Eddie,” your own voice sounded far away to you. “I have to go.”

“That so, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” you were steadfast, anxious. “I have to leave here, I have to find Robin.”

“Woah, woah, what is it?” He looked upset, eyes darting over your shoulder before hardening.

Why? You thought. What’s going on? Why is he mad—

Suddenly, you felt a wave of nausea rise in your stomach. You doubled over, into Eddie.

“Oh god,” you mumbled, looking up at him. “I’m gonna be sick.”

“Okay,” Eddie sung, pulling you by your arm with him toward the bathroom. “Excuse me, out of my way.”

When you reached the bathroom, you lurched over the toilet, your stomach jerking in your abdomen. You felt the nausea leave you like a cool spring as you vomited the now sour, rank flavor of the vodka cran.

“Okay, that’s it,” Eddie mumbled to you from behind you. Away from yourself, you felt his hands pull your hair back from your face and neck. You lurched again, throwing up more.

“Ughh,” you moaned, before leaning your cheek on the toilet seat, facing him. You were too drunk to care about the germs. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothin’ to be sorry for, princess.”

“There is, though,” your bottom lip wobbled a bit.

It was as if all the emotions of the night were catching up with you; the excitement, the fear, the insecurity. It made your heart race and your eyes water.

“I threw up and you had to help me and now I can’t find Robin—”

“Hey, hey,” he put his hand to your forehead. It felt nice on your clammy forehead. You looked at him and your breath left you for a second.

It was now you realized his hair was tied back, away from his face, and that his jacket had vanished. His biceps were perfectly shaped in the tight material of his tshirt.

“Robin’s sitting in the living room with that girl from band, remember her? Vicky?”

You sniffed.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Eddie swallowed. “So, she’s fine. Nothing to worry about.”

You nodded, sniffing. As you did, the fabric at your knees caught your eye.

You’d torn your new, sheer tights. At the knee, the fabric was split, and along your thighs were irreparable runs. You felt your eyes water.

“And I tore my tights,” you all but whined. You inwardly cringed at your tone. “These were new.”

“I like ‘em better that way, if it means anything,” Eddie mumbled, eyes wide and brown on you.

“You do?”

“Yeah,” he half-smiled. “It’s metal.”

The side of your mouth twitched.

“Metal.”

“Metal,” Eddie smirked, his thumb tilting your chin up.

Your eyes went glassy, looking at him in all his flushed, disheveled glory.

“Eddie?” You breathed, staring into his dark, black eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Your eyes are pretty.”

Eddie blinked, taken aback, and opened his mouth to respond, but as he did, you lurched again, emptying your stomach into the toilet.

[xstrawberryshiftsx]

How I met my better cr s/o PT3

(This song represents our relationship so well omg)

PART ONE/PART TWO

Caster:

Cindy:

Min-jun

Jade:

James:

Bell:

that night they stayed outside for hours, laughing and talking-something changed between the two of them. They still hated each other and they where always at each others throats but something was different, the tension between the two became something different. It wasn’t very noticeable but it was there

Dove sipped her chai latte listening to Min-Jun speculated and people watch on the people outside the cafe going on their daily lives.

‘I think she’s secretly in love with her-‘ Min-Jun pointed to a girl who was walking alongside another girl, they where laughing and chatting and both had far away looks in their eyes.

humming in agreement Dove put down their coffee and added in.

‘who knows maybe they’re already together’

‘hmm…maybe? Or they secretly both hate each other’ he said reaching over and taking a sip of Doves latte.

the store bell jingled and Clay, Cindy and Jade walked in.

‘hello my loves’ Cindy cooed sliding in the booth next to Min-jun

‘hey mates’ Jade chimed in

‘you all look like shit’ Clay lovingly added.

they chatted for a while before the conversation was steered into the Halloween party Clay was holding.

‘so what are we wearing for Halloween?’ Jade asked as she fiddled with Doves hair

‘I’m going as Draculaura obviously’ Cindy was obsessed with monster high-it was how she and Dove became friends in the first place

‘Me and Clay are going as the Lorax and the o’hare’

‘Me and Jade are going as a white and black angels’ Jade had been planning the Halloween costumes for ages she adored Halloween and her parents where rich so good costumes where never an issue

Caster looked in the mirror and groaned

‘Jesus why are you making me wear this?’

it was a half open black shirt and black pants, he had on black horns and was carrying a-you guessed it-black trident.

‘ooh! It’s so cute omg!’ Bell squealed, she was wearing a hello kitty outfit-slightly diffrent aesthetics.

‘Mhm okay…remind me why again I’m doing this?’

Bell grinned and giggled

‘That’s a secret! But you do have TV rights for a week…so keep that in mind’

‘two weeks…?’

she paused

‘two weeks.’

To Jades credit the costume was cute-super cute.

Clays house was filled to the brim of people and everyone was somehow touching everyone. But it was fun and she was with her friends.

‘oh my god this is amazing’ Cindy laughed pointing to the kitchen, jade confused by her outburst looked over and gasped.

‘this is to bloody good’ Clay laughed nudging Min-Jun in the ribs.

‘no no no no omg please no’ Dove groaned because over by the kitchen next to the drinks was Caster…in a matching devils costume

‘Awww you guys are such a cute couple, literally goals’ Min-Jun grinned.

‘I will kill you.’

…

She was wearing a short white dress and white corset, they had matching wings and a halo. it was definitely…something, Caster felt his face redden and he looked away. so this was Bells plan…great

He took a swig of his beer and groaned running his hands through his hair, what was going on with him lately?

…

‘are you going over?’ Jade half whispered in Doves ear

‘what no of course not! That’s-that’s so-so stupid hah…’ Cindy raised an eyebrow and Jade giggled

‘mhm sure okay baby whatever you say’

An hour later and everyone was gone, Jade was passed out on the front lawn, Cindy was making out with some dude from year 12, Min-Jun was playing darts and Clay was…Clay was somewhere…alive hopefully

Dove was alone and a little tipsy but happy, alone but still happy. To be honest she didn’t really know but the music was good and she felt hot so all was well.

Caster had long abandoned the kitchen and was dancing with some girl he didn’t know, she was pretty and blonde, she almost looked like Dove, Which did not matter…at all.

‘this is so fun!!!’ She squealed

‘we should like *hic* do this like *hic* way often cassiepoo’

what was her name again? A part of him felt guilty but the music was loud and she was nice to look at and everyone seemed so free

‘so-sorry Cass I think I might be *hic* a bit drunk’ she giggled loudly and touched his hair

he smiled back at her and laughed, everything was so fun right now! So fun.

‘oh shit I think I’m about to vom-‘ and with that she ran away presumably to the bathroom leaving Caster alone.

he looked around feeling a bit like a fish out of water until he saw her…Dove she looked pretty, so pretty like a doll-that was wearing an Angel costume that was also like a teenage girl, that was also like so so pretty.

why was she alone? Pretty girls should never be alone-wait no Caster hated Dove and people that were hated aren’t pretty right?

‘Hey Dovie…why’re you alone? Have all you friends finally realised your just a big dumb…dumby?’ he snickered at his joke trying and missing at giving her a high five

‘are you drunk?’ She squinted her eyes at him and giggled

‘Nuh uh im the opposite of drunk-not drunk’

Dove raised her eyebrows and nodded, her cheeks flushed slightly, dove was so annoying why was she so annoying? If she wasn’t annoying he’d totally be into her,

‘I’m going outside see you later Cass’

she called him Cass, why did her voice sound so nice all of a sudden?

…

Dove breathed in the fresh air and sighed as she sat down on the patio couch taking out her vape

‘wow vaping should’ve guessed’

huh…Deja vu

they stared at each other for a second before Caster asked

‘do you wanna dance’

(A/N: real subtle Cass real subtle, bro wasted no time)

‘huh?’ Why did Caster wanna dance with her?

‘do you…wanna dance?’

the music was muffled from outside but it was still there… and apocalypse by cigarettes after sex was playing.

‘sure I guess’

she stood up at caster took her by the waist- she felt he heart jump as he mumbled in her ear

‘I think your right’ he sighed, his breath on her neck making hers hitch

‘about what?’

‘I am drunk’ he said matter of factly as he laid his head on her shoulder as they swayed, his hands wandered around her waist line never going above or under but they were definitely…there.

Finally they landed on her hips.

‘uh huh and what made you finally realise this?’

he didn’t answer but his fingers trailed down to the hem of her dress

‘this dress is so pretty’ he breathed in her ear sending chills down her spine

‘god…your so pretty’

her heart was beating fast-that couldn’t be normal right? Surely this was a safety hazard.

‘yeah-I must be drunk’ his hands slowly rose to cup her face

‘because I think this is a good idea’

and then he kissed her

PART THREE IS DONE

@gaiaexploreslife @zipperrants @starrihideshere @catschasingstars @creatorsmelody

THE BUTTERFLYS I GOT WHEN WRITING THIS

IVE NEVER BEEN MORE EXCITED FOR A DR

[tamikahoshiko]

Um spoilers and rant i guess? Just ideas and what ifs on sundays boss battle and the narrative of the story, view at your own ideas i guess

I JUST FOUND OUT WE STOPPED SUNDAY FROM ASCENDING TO EONHOOD?? LIKE WHAT THE HELLLLL. I WANTED TO SEE IF THERE WAS A ANOTHER ENDING WHERE HE BECOMES AN EON AND KILLS EVERYONR IDJFJDJDNDJFKDNDJSKS.

But speaking of it, the what ifs in my brain are ringing because of this man. Like what will happen to robin if sunday becomes and eon. Would they be like um merge or like would robin be kept in a cage to like a dove or sum because since sunday is eon now he cant afford to lose his sister cause she's the only one keeping him sane.

What would happen to gallagher, would eon sundah take over (i mean- definitely) and like find out all the secrets that gallagher has. What if he keeps gallagher instead of killing him off cause gallagher knows something that he doesn't. Or keeps him Like a moral support instead of an emotional support.

Or maybe everyone up there gets explodex except for sunday and aventurine (vause lucky idk) yay

But butbut. What would be his path? Maybe like enas or like a different one. Cause ive heard (not canon idk) that an eon can change like their prespective or idea of their path to keeo living so why not the path of order where Order means to the new Eon Sunday is where you control or keep everything in check like a leadership role or somthing instead of being the past idea of the order which overlaps Xipe the Harmony.

Also, would Eon sunday keep his mortal form or be stuck in his boss form if he ascended into eonhood or maybe switch like on. Or will it be like the past order where the boss form is only a puppet for the Real true sunday to control. Like how angels are to divine and monstrous to the human eye.

Speaking of angels, would his emenators grow wings if the received his blessings where it would depend on the wings on how much blessing he gave by how big or hoe much control you have on the wings. And depending on the situation, sunday can control the wings by will. Like leading them. Also i think his followers follow like christians follow jesus. Blindly and only trusting on faith to them to bring Order to all.

I would like to also think that if you are the path of order, you would get hallucinations. Like the shadows of wings flapping in the corner of your eye or dreams that are eerily nostalgic yet weird that revolves around Order and family. BUT if you are an emenator, you would get the power of hallucinate to other people despite the element you posses. Remember when i said the wings depend on the power, lets put that into the mix and your halulu powers would depend on how big or small your wings are like. Big wings can cause major changes in like the hallucinations like a different mom or a different world while small wings can insert small amounts of halulugens but can easily manipulate the dreamer or the controlled that it is real. While middle sized wings could control make it more eerie, they could put more in it but in audio only.

And depending how much you can control your wings can also mean that how much you can interact with the hallucination and if you have full control over it maybe you can create a dream for yourself and actively interact with the controlled - maybe even contact Eon sunday.

Halos could also be a sign of status, doesn't matter how weak they are, their status is more important. Maybe they have unspoken rules that need to be upheld like lead the weak and Do Not Be Afraid kinda shit.

the end, thanks for listening to my ted talk guys.

[bugwolfsstuff]

VineOwls Christmas

Pollux's Pov

Pollux felt like he was in a fairyland. Bright blue, red, yellow, and white lights flashed around him and his twin like a kaleidoscope. Snow covered everything, like a crystal wonderland. It was just a (Probably) mortal village decorated for Christmas. But it looked so pretty.

Luke Castellan, a son of Hermes, chuckled behind them. "Haven't you ever seen Christmas lights before?".

"We have, Larry. They're just pretty." Pollux replied, though he didn't think Luke heard him over the scarf.

"Not that you'd know anything about prettiness," Pollux's twin brother, Castor, said. 

Castor always made it clear if he disliked someone by making sarcastic remarks or insults. 

And Pollux liked to be sneaky, like being passive-aggressive or tripping someone while they're carrying something with a vine.

To put it mildly, neither he nor Castor liked Luke Castellan. Sure, there was nothing wrong with the guy. He was nice enough to them. He doesn't talk badly about their dad like the other campers (at least Pollux has never heard him do). But since he came back from his quest, there was a feeling at the back of Pollux's mind, like a gut feeling, that gets stronger by the day. 

"Hey, wait up!" Annabeth called from down the street. Her blonde curls bouncing under her grey woolly hat like a halo as she ran to catch up.

Annabeth had been him and Castor's friend since —well, not since they met her. In fact, they were kinda very mean to her when they first met when they were eight. But they're ten now! They've matured now and become best friends.

He even made space on the sidewalk for her.

"The Christmas lights are so pretty," she said, walking between them, Castor on her right, Pollux on the left.

"Yeah," Pollux said.

"Can you believe what Leonard quoth to us?" Castor said, putting an annoying amount of emphasis on quoth.

Annabeth giggled. "It's Luke, Cast. And what did he quoth to you?"

Pollux sighed, "Don't encourage him, Owlbrain." 

Castor discovered Shakespeare a week ago, and he's been hyper-fixated on it ever since. And Pollux isn't sure how much longer he can take hearing about symbolism in Romeo and Juliet in the middle of the night before he starts thinking he's in a Shakespearean tragedy himself.

"O, speak to me no more. These words like daggers enter my ears." Castor annoyingly grinned as he quoted Hamlet. He turned to Annabeth, "Lenny here," He gestured to Luke, "thinks we've never seen Christmas lights before".

Luke put his hands up in defence, "Hey, I was just saying, you guys seemed so amazed by the lights; it's like you haven't seen Christmas before".

"Probably 'cause me and Cass don't celebrate Christmas," Pollux said.

"Dad has beef with Jesus," Castor explained, scooping up snow in his gloved hand.

"And Mom's relatives come over around Christmas, and Dad says they're a bunch of—" 

"Pollux," Chiron chided, rolling up behind them in his wheelchair, "Language. And Castor put that snowball down."

Castor stared at Chiron. The snowball he was about to throw at Luke dropped to the pavement. "I wasn't going to do anything!" 

"I don't celebrate Christmas either, though not because of that," Annabeth said.

"Then why?" Pollux asked, kicking a ball of snow as he walked.

Annabeth hesitated, "...Because of how it's about family and how great it is. And since I ran away from my 'family'. It's kinda a sore subject."

"Oh," is all he said.

It was all he could say; one of the only downsides to having your godly parent at camp was that you'll never understand your fellow campers.

Annabeth laughed, "Guess neither of us are getting Christmas presents this year."

Pollux giggled. "Yeah," he said.

But he was lying. He had already made up his mind.

Annabeth was getting a Christmas present.

A laugh rang out, and Pollux heard Chiron say, "Don't."

He and Annabeth whipped their heads around to see what was going on.

Luke was standing behind Castor, who had lagged behind and was too distracted by a red robin nearby to see the giant ball of snow Luke had looming over his head.

Pollux scooped up some snow, and Annabeth did the same.

"Cassie, look out!" he yelled, throwing a snowball as hard as he could at Luke's chest. Unfortunately, Pollux was never much good at being a marksman, and instead of hitting the much bigger son of Hermes, he hit the much smaller Castor's left arm.

Annabeth on the other hand, was a better shot than him...unfortunately, not better by much.

Her snowball sailed over Castor's head and past Luke's chest.

Hitting him in the armpit.

Luke dropped the snowball in mild shock...directly onto Castor's head.

'Whoopsie' was all that went through Pollux's head.

Part 1 of 7

[so-much-for-stardust6]

Halloween Party- Graham Coxon x Reader

first post on here lol so this’ll be very messy.

lowercase intended

warnings: smut

summary: you go to alex’s halloween party to impress graham who you learn isn’t going. what happens when you and damon get drunk together and play spin the bottle?

it was finally here. halloween night. the one night everyone hosts parties on, especially a good mate of mine. alex always hosts parties on halloween, obviously making costumes mandatory. this year i decided to dress a bit revealing in hopes to impress a certain shy guitar player. i wore a white dress, revealing quite a bit of my chest, with white elbow long gloves, white fishnets, some fluffy angel wings accompanied by a white fluffy halo sitting on top my head. i even found some perfect white mary janes to complete my look. almost complete my look. i heard knocking from my front door, signaling me that damon was here. i quickly finish up my simple makeup, white eyeshadow with clear lip gloss. i grab my crossbody bag and a small red jug before opening the door to greet the man who was wearing a sailor outfit.

“out of everything, dames, you chose a sailor?” i step out my place and lock the door before shutting it.

“nope. i’m a SEXY sailor.” he proudly grins, hands to his hips.

“uh…no.” i walk past him and start heading to the elevator.

“come on, y/n, why don’t you fancy me?” he genuinely questions.

“because i fancy someone else, dames, you already know that.”

“ugh yeah yeah, head over heels for my best friend.” he shudders.

we finally reach his car and start heading to the party.

“so what’s with the jug?” he motions to the mysterious jug at my feet.

“it’s blood for my costume.”

“a bloody angel? how sexy.” he winks at me.

“exactly what i’m going for.” i smile happily.

“is this all for graham?” he asks, a look of worry plastered all over.

“yeah?”

“oh, my dear y/n…he won’t be there, he declined. he’s staying home.” he kept looking at me and then the road and then me quickly.

“turn around, i’m going home.” i didn’t hesitate.

“oh come on, y/n, you don’t need to have graham there to have fun. it’s gra anyways, he’s too shy to do anything fun.”

“i don’t care, i was going to try and make a move dames! god, why does he have to be a party pooper sometimes.” i grumble.

we reach the destination, cars littering the area.

“can you help me with the blood, dames?” i grab my stuff and step out.

“of course, love.” he grabbed the jug from me and began pouring it all over.

he poured where it would look good, mostly over my chest.

“jesus damon, i think my boobs are soaked in blood.”

“that’ll be a nice sight.” he smirks.

i whack his arm to which he hisses and stupidly holds it in “pain”. we put the jug away and start heading to the life of the night. music deafened my ears and bright lights blinded my eyes. i grabbed onto damon as he lead us straight to the kitchen, aka the bar. he poured himself a red solo cup of straight vodka before downing it in one gulp. he then cautiously poured me some, watching at everyone near him. glad to know he’s watching out for me. he hands me the cup and i do the same as him, wanting to get drunk quickly and end the graham-less night. the more damon and i drank, the more i forgot about the shy man i’m head over heels for. i don’t know how or when but damon and i ended up on the dance floor, dancing on one another. i wasn’t on him but he was on me, shaking his ass in front of me. he wasn’t necessarily twerking but just had his hands on his knees and he moved his ass up and down. i laugh at his attempt and gave it a firm slap to which he yelped at. he went back to dancing on me, grinding on me like a girl would on a guy. i felt him up, his curves and everything. he turned around to face me, hooded eyes staring into mine before he sloppily connected our lips. i kissed back a bit but we both pulled away and stared at each other before bursting out laughing. we then made our way to the kitchen when we were stopped by alex, the man of the hour.

“hola guys! i love you guys so much! let’s play spin the bottle!” he was already shit faced drunk.

he led us to a different room with a couple people sitting in a circle, an empty vodka bottle in the middle. damon’s hand was holding mine this entire time even when we sat down next to each other. alex went first and landed on some random girl, it obviously got steamy quickly cause it was alex. dave went next and landed on alex, to which he rolled his eyes to.

“don’t make out with me you wanker.” he warned.

as they kissed, everyone including damon hollered and whooped. they pulled away and immediately damon went. the bottle slowed and eventually landed on me.

“2nd times a charm, y/n.” he winked.

“oh hush it.” i smacked his arm again.

i looked at everyone in the group as they whistled at us, except one guy. he was unfamiliar, a mask hiding his identity. he was dressed as a devil, just a red button up, black trousers with a red cape and horns. i quickly dismissed the guy and went back to damon. i grabbed onto his collar and brought his lips to mine. we kissed even longer than the one on the dance floor, but still sloppy. i subconsciously moved to sit in his lap, his hands on my thighs. i held his face in my hands and deepened the kiss and added tongue. he began to move his hands up but i quickly pulled away and fell back. laughing my ass off on the floor, he soon joined in.

“sorry dames but you are NOT graham.” i wipe a tear that fell from laughing.

i looked up to look at the devil man, just staring. i stopped laughing, his whole vibe intriguing me.

“your turn, angel.” alex wiggled his eyebrows.

i sat back up and in my spot before spinning. i sat on my heels, waiting to see who i kiss. if i land on damon, i swear i might just say fuck it and fuck him. but then the bottle stopped on the mystery man.

“who the hell is this man!” damon argued, upset i didn’t get him.

i slowly crawled to the man, his position the same.

“hello there.” i softly said, stopping in front of him.

he just politely nodded in return. i huffed at him, sitting on my heels again.

i slowly begin lifting up his mask but he stops me to do it himself. he lifts it up barely enough to expose his lips. i bite my own at the sight of his beautiful lips.

“can i?” i ask.

he just nods. i then connect our lips, tasting the alcohol that he previously downed. i moaned at the taste, loving the whisky. the man wasn’t kissing back which upset me, so i began pulling away but his hands grabbed my face to pull me back. his sudden confidence causing me to gasp. i then go to sit in his lap like i did with damon. his fingertips burned my skin, the right way. i ran my hands up his chest, feeling whatever i can. i planned on stopping and getting up but his hand on my boob changed my mind. i threw my head back and moaned, his lips now kissing my neck. i gripped his shoulders, eyes squeezed shut.

“fuck this, i’m getting out of here.” i hear damon grumble, stomping away.

i opened my eyes to watch him leave, wanting to go after him but the man securing my legs around him distracted me. he then stood up and led us to a bedroom.

“have fun!” alex cheered at me.

i was confused on who this man was. i wanted to go to damon, comfort and apologize to him, but this guy refused. once we were in a room and we were on the bed, i pulled away.

“look man, i gotta go to my friend. he needs me.” i start to get up but he grabs my wrist.

“fuck damon. i need you more y/n.” the man finally speaks.

his voice was familiar, very very familiar. it scared me, who was he? then it clicked. my eyes widen as far as they can and my mouth falls open. i try to get off him and stand up but i just fell to the floor. he stood up to help me but i scramble away.

“no…no fucking way…” i felt like i was dreaming.

it can’t be him. i finally get myself to stand up and go towards him. i reach up to his mask but he stops me again. i stay there, staring into the eyeholes of the mask, trying to confirm my theory. he then let my wrist go, letting me proceed my journey to take off his mask. and i do. i peel the mask off, instantly dropping it from my trembling fingers. there he was. the shy guy that i’ve fallen for, lips flushed pink from kissing me. he kissed me.

“graham…” i breathed out.

“hello.” he sucked his bottom lip.

“how…? damon said you weren’t gonna be here…” i was confused, the alcohol making this a much more bigger deal than it should be.

“he was right, i didn’t want to come but i-uh-i-i wanted to see you…” he looked down at the ground, nervously.

“i came to see you! but when i knew you weren’t coming, i wanted to leave but it was too late.”

“is that why you were kissing damon like that?” his voice sounded hurt.

“that shit meant nothing, gra. you even heard me say that he wasn’t you.” i defended my drunken actions.

“what would you have done if it was?” he glanced up at me, bottom lip still sucked in.

“everything. you don’t know how much i want you, graham.”

“then show me.”

“what?”

“show me how much you want me.” his low voice turning me on.

i didn’t hesitate to kiss him again, hands immediately in his soft hair. something to finally cross off my bucket list. his hands softly rested on my hips, slightly gripping whenever i’d tug on his hair. we moved back to the bed, graham moving to lay against the headboard. i crawled to him, his bottom lip being attacked by his nibbling teeth.

“do you want me as much as i want you gra?”

“a lot, y/n. i’ve always wanted you since i saw you. fuck damon-wait, DON’T fuck damon…fuck me. please…” he whined, begging.

i moaned as my response to his neediness. i begin to strip him, unbuttoning his shirt and untying his cape. he went to take off the horns but i stopped him.

“keep them on. they’re cute on you.” i smile once he smiles.

“anything for you, love.”

hearing him call me that is different from when damon does. it gives me multiple butterflies and a contagious smile. i unbutton his trousers and struggled to pull them down but i do. i discarded his clothing all over the floor, not caring for them anymore.

“it’s unfair i’m naked, y/n. please undress..” he gave me puppy dog eyes.

“i can never say no to you.” i squeeze his cheeks, puckering his lips so i can kiss them.

i take off my bag and threw it wherever, hearing the stuff inside clatter together. i then unzip my dress, slowly pulling it down my body, eventually exposing my bare top. graham’s eyes go wide at the sight of my nude self, well only my boobs so far. he bites his lip, flaring his nostrils as he whines out, thrusting his hips upwards. i chuckle at him, getting drenched at his attitude. i began to quickly take everything else off except my halo since he said so.

“you look like a real life angel, it fits.”

we went back to kissing, my clothed pussy sitting so perfectly onto his hard cock. his hips would stutter up and he’d rub against me causing me to moan.

“please, baby. please fuck me, i want you so bad. i wanna feel you so bad.” he begs, whimpering for me.

“god, you’re such a good boy for me.” i kiss his cheek.

fuck the teasing and foreplay, his ass is getting his reward immediately. i’ve been wanting this forever. WE’VE been wanting this forever and dragging this out even more will be absolute torture for us. i sit up a bit to take off my underwear, throwing that wherever as well. i then pull down his boxers, hard cock springing out. the sight of seeing him like this made my stomach rumble with butterflies. i quickly took his boxers off before sitting back on his lap.

“you don’t know how much i’ve wanted you…how long i’ve wanted you.”

“please please, hurry and show me. i’m yours…” and then i came conscious at that exact moment.

hearing graham coxon tell me he’s all mine released some sober primal animal. i took his dick and stroked him a bit. already hearing his moans made me wanna cum. i then sat his tip against my folds before sinking down on him. we both loudly moaned, feeling complete like this. like his dick was made for me and my pussy was made for him. matched like a god damn puzzle. i began rolling my hips, pleasure already being overwhelming. his hands went to play with my boobs, hypnotized by them through his cute glasses. i played with his hair, loving the feeling of it between my fingers. he began kissing my neck, nibbling at the skin and harshly sucking to leave marks.

“fuck yeah gra…mark me..i’m all yours.” i bounced up and down, his hands feeling whatever he can.

he found my sweet spot, sucking on it to earn my loud moans. his name just spewing out my mouth, it felt right. my riding started to slow down and i noticed.

“switch.” i breathed out.

“huh?” he pulled away from my neck

“switch, gra. i’m getting tired.” the sweat on my forehead proving right.

he understood and positioned us to where he could flip over easily. he succeeded. he took over and began thrusting into me insanely. he didn’t hold back at all. he waited for this moment every since he saw me, he felt guilty but he always wondered what it’ll feel like to be inside me. deep inside me. like right now. my legs wrapped around him, pushing him closer to me and he got deeper and faster. i scratched at his back, leaving marks but he didn’t care. his hair stuck to his forehead except some parts that swung with every thrust. he felt empty, connecting our lips fixing that problem. his hands were resting by the sides of my head, itching to feel me up but he knew he’d lose balance if he removed one. from the beginning he hit that one spot, and he kept hitting. i spat lewd noises into his mouth to which he returned every time he felt my fingernails against his skin or my fingers tug his hair. his glasses were basically off his face, just being held on by our faces smooshed together. i helped him out and pushed them up and they surprisingly stayed.

i pulled away from his lips slightly just to moan out, “fuck gra, i’m gonna cum.”

i pull his hair. a moan followed by a whimper escaped his puffy lips.

“me too, love.” he gripped the bedsheets next to my head.

we went back to kissing as we found it addicting, worse than cigarettes and alcohol.

“fuck gra! i’m-“ i cut myself off as i moaned loudly when i felt the coil in my stomach tighten to its max. and hearing him whimper out my name tipped me over the edge.

“i fucking love you, graham!” i moan out as i cum all over his throbbing cock, squeezing his shoulders.

he continued to thrust, almost there. my body turning cold from the insane overstimulation.

“fuck gra, cum in me.”

and that tipped him over the edge. he did exactly that.

“fuck! i fucking love you too, y/n!” he moaned, his glasses falling off his face and onto my chest.

i felt him fill me up, moaning at the feeling. he thrusted a few more times before eventually collapsing on top of me, after i grabbed his glasses and set them on the nightstand. he laid there, cheek smooshing against my chest. i felt his hot breath against my sticky skin. i began playing with his hair again, my new favorite thing to do.

“did you mean it?” he spoke up.

“mean what?”

he propped himself up slightly to look at me.

“are you drunk or did you mean it when you said you love me?” his voice back to shy and nervous.

“i’m drunk, gra.” his face immediately saddening at my words.

“but i meant everything i’ve said. i love you incredibly graham leslie coxon. more than you could ever know-more than i could ever know.” i rest my palm on his cheek, him leaning into it made me smile.

“oh gosh, y/n. you make me the happiest man in the world, even before today. hearing your name or even seeing you made my day 100x better. i want to be with you everyday. i love you so so so so so so sooooo much. even more than the beatles.” he sheepishly admits.

i playfully gasp at his words.

“not sir mccartney! oh how devastated will he be!” i dramatically rest the back of my hand on my forehead.

he laughs at me, kissing my palm and then the bare skin below him.

“will you be my girlfriend, y/n? so we can have many more moments like this.”

“sex or talking in bed?” i question.

the tip of his ears turn red while his face eventually does too.

“i’m joking, my love. of course i will. i wanna spend forever with you. eternity with you.” i pucker my lips, inviting him for a kiss to which he gladly accepts.

he struggles to climb close to me but gets there.

“god, can’t i marry you already?” he groans against my lips.

“one day, my love. soon” i caress his soft cheek before kissing him again.

we eventually got into a more comfortable position, taking off our head pieces that got quickly discarded on the floor. him laying on his back as i lay my head on his chest meant it’s his turn to play with my hair but i still found a way to play with his, reaching my arm up to his head. we talked our lovey dovey talk and eventually fell asleep, the sound of the crazy party outside the door was muted. little to my knowledge, graham subconsciously locked the door as it’s a habit, and i’m incredibly grateful since as we slept many horny people tried to pry their way in for a place to fuck. after the party ended, alex made his way throughout his house to kick out all the stray people, eventually stopping at our door. he unlocked the door with his key and swung it open but stopped himself from yelling once he saw it was us. he smiled to himself, happy graham grew balls to finally make a move. he always told graham that we’d be good together, a perfect match. he realized he was staring at our naked bodies entangled together and cringed at his accidental creepiness and left, quietly closing the door. the next morning felt magical, waking and seeing graham right next to me was like a dream. once he woke up too, we showered and dressed back in our dirty halloween clothes, making our way downstairs to see alex, damon, and dave all hungover eating breakfast. damon was about to bite into some toast when he looked up and dropped it.

“you fucker! damn you, graham, you stole y/n.” he complained.

“oh hush dames, it was never gonna happen.” i roll my eyes and rub graham’s back to reassure him.

“i know, i know. i’m only fucking with you, but it was nice to have you as a kissing buddy. missed you, care to spare one more.” he puckered his lips once graham and i got closer to the table.

i bent down to make it seem like i was gonna kiss him but i grabbed his toast and set it against his lips instead.

“no way. eat up, dames, it’ll help.” i pat his back before heading to make graham and i breakfast.

once i go into the kitchen, i saw all of them patting graham’s back basically congratulating him. i saw graham shyly smile and blush insanely before making eye contact with me, avoiding theirs. i wink and blow a kiss to him. he blushed even harder and looked away from me. holy shit, i love this man so much.

[hxneyfarm]

wip wednesday snippet from ch2 of greatest hits

ch2 coming to ao3 this upcoming saturday

“Hey,” Steve says. He’s laying on his side, facing Eddie, his cheek smushed against the pillow as he looks at him. Eddie looks back, feeling a little like he’s drowning; Steve’s face is in shadow, his hair haloed by the lamplight behind him. “On a scale of one to ten, how weird was it?”

Eddie sighs. So they’re really doing this. Talking about it.

“I dunno, man, it was…” Thrilling. Humiliating. Insanely hot.

“Kinda hot, right?”

Hold on. Kinda what? 

“Steve -”

“You were into it.”

“Are you making fun of me right now?”

“No,” Steve says with a laugh. “C’mon, man. You were into it. I was into it. It’s only gay if you make it gay.”

“Yeah, I think me being gay kinda makes it gay, Harrington.”

There. He said it. It’s out there now.

“Oh,” Steve breathes.

“Yeah. Oh.”

“I mean. You know I don’t - you know I’m totally cool with that. Because, like. Robin.”

“This is a little different.”

“Sure, but…” Steve isn’t looking at him. “Not necessarily in a bad way.”

“Listen, I can go sleep downstairs. If you want, like, some space or whatever.”

“Don’t be stupid. I told you. It doesn’t matter.”

“Not even after…?”

Steve smiles. He finally looks up at Eddie, turning over onto his back and curling an arm behind his head to see him better. 

“Nah. Makes more sense now, though. Why you were so into it.”

“Now you are making fun of me.”

“I’m not, I swear.” Steve smiles at him again, but this time the energy behind it is different. It makes Eddie’s heart race, makes him want to run. “We could always… do it again.”

They shouldn’t. Eddie really should put a stop to this, if for no other reason than to save his own fucking sanity. He half lost his mind the last time, and this time, if they do it again, it will be with the knowledge that Eddie is doing it because he likes it. There’s no way this is normal, just something that guys do.

Eddie remembers, vaguely, the time he and Gareth found Gareth’s dad’s stash of Playboys; it’s been years ago now, when they were still in middle school. They’d been just a couple of boys in the throes of puberty and Eddie had still been trying to parse out exactly who he was. That had never progressed any further than uncomfortable giggles about boobs and bush.

That had been nothing like this.

“This is a terrible idea.”

Eddie doesn’t put a stop to it. He doesn't say no. He doesn’t tell Steve, I don’t want to be your experiment, because it’s a lie. He doesn’t say, I won’t be able to keep this platonic, because it’s true.

Steve reaches behind himself to click off the lamp, and they are plunged into darkness.

Eddie can’t help but think he would be taking advantage of Steve if he gives in to this. Steve should think about it, he should examine why he enjoys masturbating with other guys. They shouldn’t do this, not when Eddie has more skin in the game than Steve does. The mattress moves a little as Steve shifts on the bed. It’s so fucking quiet in here Eddie wonders if Steve can hear the way his heart is pounding, the way his breathing has quickened.

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s it like?”

“What’s… what, like?”

Hesitation for a moment, and then, “Guys. Y’know… sex…”

Eddie scoffs, rolling his eyes at himself in the darkness. “I wouldn’t know. I, uh, I haven’t actually gotten the chance.”

It’s silent for a while, and Eddie is just beginning to think maybe Steve won’t try and goad him into this.

“Well, how would it, uh…” Steve trails off here, like he’s unsure of what he’s trying to ask.

Eddie puts on his most teasing, suggestive tone and asks, “Do you want me to explain the mechanics of gay sex to you, Harrington? Should I go into detail?”

“Oh, Jesus Christ.” It comes out a little muffled, like Steve’s got his face covered. Eddie laughs a little. It’s nice hearing him squirm. Feels kinda... powerful. “How did you learn if you’ve never done it?”

“Books, skin mags. The ancient Greeks did it all the time, apparently. They fucked so much there’s like, paintings on pottery and shit.”

“No shit?”

“No shit. The how is common sense if you think about it. Straight people do butt stuff all the time.”

“Oh, my god,” Steve says. He sounds flustered.

“You asked!”

tag list: @delta-piscium @matchingbatbites @rugbertgoeshome @outpastthebrakers @helixferrano

[thehuntss]

TRY ME

The day Emily pushed the limits too far by risking her life on a case and Aaron struggled to keep his legendary calm.

•

Hi guys !

Just a wee hotchniss shot to start the week, enjoy :)

No warnings.

She didn’t see it coming. It came too fast and it was too dark around her. She was paired with Derek, everything was going fine and they were about to arrest the killer. But when Derek ran out of bullets, she couldn’t wait for him to refill his Glock and went straight after the man, who raped and filmed his victimes before killing them, showing the tapes to his next victims.

Around a corner, she checked everything but the second she turned out, he had jumped on her, slapping her in the face so violently she saw stars for seconds. She could hear Morgan yelling in her ear, just like Aaron.

“Prentiss! God damn it ! Wait for backup!”

She felt the knife penetrating her arm, and she tried her best to muffle a painful moan. Then she heard the gunfire shot. And the dead body of Paul Logan crushed her on the ground like a carpet. Derek, who basically saved her ass, appeared in a halo like Holy Jesus.

“What the fuck Emily ?!” He groaned next to her, pulling the corpse away from her. “Couldn’t you wait for me ? You almost got killed. Hotch is furious…”

Morgan was blank and staring at her, helping her up. She didn’t look that traumatised, but he wasn’t sure she would be the same once Hotch would arrive.

Speaking of the devil.

She could see the way his jaw clenched, his eyes darker than usual. He was also blank but she could notice how angry he was, and she immediately felt bad. Bitting her bottom lip, Emily didn’t look at him first, wanting the ground to open and swallow her. She left her thoughts when his hand reached her chin, lifting it up so he could catch her eyes. Aaron silently examined her face, then her arm and turned away, fist clenched that strong they turned white.

In the plane he didn’t talk to her either, didn’t even check if her arm was ok, didn’t bother to ask what the medics had said about it. Nothing. He didn’t even look at her and Emily knew the night was going to be hard. Back in the Quantico’s bullpen, she thad tried her best to keep quiet, even though his behaviour was starting to irritate her.

“Let’s go home.”

He didn’t stop, making his way to the elevator without waiting or asking to carry her stuff as usual. Even if she always refused his help, today she maybe would have considered the offer. But it didn’t happen. The drive home was silent and she was bitting on her nails, feeling dizzy because of the longing pain in her arm.

“How long are you going to ignore me ?”

She couldn’t handle it anymore. She knew her husband and she really was in trouble. He stayed quiet until they finally got home, closing their door. And only once his coat had been hanged he faced her, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes closed.

“Do you realise what you’ve just done Emily ?”

That was just a whisper. And she could hear all the anger and disappointment in his voice, but also the fear. The fear of loosing her. He had told her millions times, he couldn’t handle her loss, just like she wouldn’t.

He opened his eyes to look at her, and she saw the darkness. They were filled with angst, but also some lust. He wanted to make sure she was alive, she knew it. But they couldn’t just fuck like nothing had happened. That wouldn’t solve their problems and they had this weird way to fix everything with sex. But not tonight.

“You were lucky. You could be dead, imagine if he had cut your carotide ?”

He was mad. She swallowed hard but didn’t stop looking at him.

“He didn’t.”

He did it again, pinching his nose and suddenly he slammed his fists against the wall, sending a shiver down her spine. “Jesus Christ Emily! You’re a federal agent, not a trainee. You acted like one, you disobeyed a superior order and you put everyone in danger. When I say stay paired with your partner, I mean: stay together. Am I clear enough ?”

His ton was polar and even though she knew she’d committed a mistake, she didn’t like the way he was talking to her.

“Am I clear, Agent Prentiss ?” He asked a second time, this time louder than the first one.

“Yes. Yes agent Hotchner, loud and clear.” She finally answered, annoyed, rolling her eyes and making her way toward the stairs. She didn’t want to debate, not here, not right now, not after a week away from their heaven place.

But Aaron didn’t want it to end this way and grabbed her good wrist with strength. Except his arm, he didn’t even move, this bastard. She felt even more humiliated. “Don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“Let go of me.”

“No, we need to talk. I want to know why you did not wait for Morgan. And what the hell were you thinking when you just ran to your death. If you didn’t think I would be devastated by your death, did you even think of the kids ?”

He was still holding her and she knew she could do everything, he wouldn’t flinch. “I said, that I’m sorry, now let go of me Hotch, don’t force me to do something I don’t want. And I don’t want you to say I did it selfishly without thinking of you or the kids, I did it for the case because we had to stop this bastard!”

“Don’t force me either Em…” he was intimidating, almost threatening, and she tried her best to erase some flashbacks. She was thinking how much he loved her, that he had never hurt her and would never. Even when the anger was unbearable. He had never used his strength against her, not unless she was begging for it in their intimate times. “Now, talk to me.”

“Let go of me, now. Got it ?” She spitted, trying to free herself. It felt so humiliating, he was still not moving, holding her with so much ease.

But he didn’t move. Their eyes crossed each others and in a second their lips crashed into another. There was no love, no feeling, just desire and lust. He made sure not to hurt her more, and in one swift move her back was banging loud onto their entrance wall.

“Let go of me.” She begged this time.

She knew how it would end but she couldn’t stop being mad at him, just like he couldn’t. His stare, god, she was frightened but couldn’t let him know. She tried to free herself one more time and he let her go, stepping back.

“Em….I’m not trying to boss you. But I think you didn’t realise the danger, you didn’t realise how scared I was. I can’t lose you, not today, not ever.”

He broke into a sob. All the anger she felt disappeared in a second, she had never seen him break down this way, he was always so strong, this wasn’t their first fight. But he’d never broke. And she felt her heart breaks into pieces into her chest.

“Aaron.”

He didn’t move. He looked devastated, tears slowly running dow his cheeks, the whole world he was always carrying on his shoulders was gone. She felt the urge of protecting him at all costs, and she realised how stupid she had acted. The thought of leaving him and the kids alone and breaking his heart again suddenly appeared in her mind. Fuck.

“Honey, look at me. Please.”

It was a pleading, her voice ringing like a sweet music ringing to his ears. He looked at her and she threw herself into his strong arms. She was sorry, but the words were stuck in her throat. He didn’t need to hear them, he knew. Aaron buried his face into her hair.

“I thought I had lost you forever. I saw myself in front of your grave.”

It appeared crystal clear to her, he was relieving her funeral, but this time knowing she was really dead. Leaving him alone with kids at charge, for the second time of his life. Emily felt like shit, finally realising her fiery action made her husband relieve the worst times of his already so bruised life. “I’m so sorry Aaron…”

She gently pressed her forehead against his, both of their eyes closed, and then kissed him slowly, letting him know how sorry she was and how much she loved him. “Don’t ever think I would ever let you or the kids down. I’m never been as happy as I am now, since we got together. I can’t imagine my life otherwise. And if I have to die, I don’t want it to happen on a case. Believe me when I say it sucks a lot dying on the floor, especially when it’s cold out there.”

He let out a shy smile, sipping off the tears off his eyes. “You did not just made a joke about your first death huh?”

Emily winked at him, giving him this outrageous look. “No I didn’t, it’s all in your mind honey.””

“You’re the worst.”

“But you love me.”

He smiled, guiding her to the living room. “I do, and I will, now and for the rest of our lives.”

At this very moment she thought she couldn’t have hoped for a better husband, he was all she ever needed, the most perfect man a woman could expect in her life. “Honey?”

“Yes ?” He simply answered, apparently searching something in the kitchen. He came back seconds later with a glass of water and some painkillers in his hands. She looked at him with wide eyes, but inside of her Emily knew she shouldn’t be that surprised, he had always been very thoughtful and he knew her more than herself.

“How did…you…”

“Figured that you might need pain-meds at some point ?” He finished for her, addressing her a small wink. She slowly nodded, looking at him. “Because as strong as you are and wants to look, I know you, I know pain can be hard to handle, and I also spoke with the EMT.”

She should have known that, even mad at her he could never stop caring about her. “Thank you. I love you.”

“Love you too sweetheart.” Giving her the water and meds, kissing her forehead. “Take this and then we’ll go get a shower, change your bandages and maybe get something to eat.”

She couldn’t help but smiled. “You’re so bossy, Agent Hotchner.”

[bylagunabay]

ANCIENT CHINESE RECORD OF THE RESURRECTION

Transcript of video by Herb Kersten:

Here's another record in the chronicles of Emperor Guang Wu. It's dated 31 AD Translated it reads:

“Summer fourth month of the year on the Day of Ren Wu. The imperial edict reads: ‘Yin and yang, darkness and light have mistakenly switched and the sun and the moon were eclipsed. The sins of all the people are now on one man. Pardon is proclaimed to all under heaven.’”

The Chinese had no idea about Jesus in 31 AD. No Christian missionary would have gone to China because Jesus had just died. There weren't any Christian missionaries and yet in their soul, in their spirit they recorded this incredible statement. In their

history of the latter Han Dynasty, and in their soul, they said this this mysterious, unexpected darkening of the sun.

The sins of all the people are upon one man and pardon is proclaimed to all under heaven. They didn't know what they were writing. And it says here in the Annals Number 18 of Gui Hai ‘ eclipse on the day of Gui Hai, man from heaven died.’ They had no idea what they were writing but the Holy Spirit would have spoken to those Chinese astronomers and the Emperor, and in their soul, in their hearts they sensed that this unexpected darkening that lasted for three hours had something to do with a man in heaven dying, from heaven dying, and pardon for the sins of the world. The Bible tells us it was about the sixth hour and there was darkness over all the Earth until the ninth hour.

Three days later the Chinese recorded a rainbow that encircled the sun like a halo during the reign of Emperor Guang Wu on the day of Bin Yin of the fourth month of Yuēhàn Wu, ‘a halo, a rainbow encircled the sun’, and that's found in the history of the Latter Han Annals Number 18. And that is the resurrection of Jesus Christ and I put it to you this morning folks that the ancient Chinese recorded the date of Christ’s birth, the date of His death, and the date of His resurrection.