#i wanted to gif this for the rat pile and then realised this is when dews horn fell off sdkjfjdsas

[cardi-c]

rat piles and ghoul horns

+ the fate of the rats

[physics-of-one-piece]

Sugary Secret

(Doflamingo x Reader)

Summary: The king of Dressrosa shares a midnight snack with you. Don't tell anyone. It's his little sugary secret.

Words: 1k

Tags: Doflamingo x afab!Reader, Reader & Doflamingo Are Married, Cuddling, Fluff, Size Difference, SFW, One Shot

A/N: I am sleep deprived, much like Doffy here. (Hugs him) It's okay, Doffy, let's cuddle, we can fall asleep easier like that. I wrote this ages ago cus I wanted a cuddle with Doffy in Dressrosa. Short and not detailed enough with descriptions for my liking, but I'm not that good quite yet with describing the SIZE of this man. Ugh, I love him. Would cuddle, cuddles would be 100000/10 with him. Wish I could make this Hammock NSFW Fic but hooo boy that intimidates me so it's SFW. Also, huh, my first actual fic(that I publish on tumblr)! Of course it would be Doffy. 🩷

You got woken up by some sort of sound of...

A bag?

It sounded like a bag. You realised the usual ten foot giant wasn't all wrapped around you, hugging you possessively. You blinked at the lack of him. The bed felt very big and very empty without him.

Then, you heard it. Crunching.

You perked up, shooting up in the bed. You knew that sound.

Cookies.

You floundered around for the switch of the bedside lamp. Once you found it, the illuminating orange light cast a small light around the large suite of the bedroom.

And there was the king of Dressrosa, satten on a circular coffee table, a lid full of cookies held in his left hand while his right hand grabbed the pile of cookies.

Upon the light hitting his handsome face, bare of his sunglasses, the king of Dressrosa froze like a cat caught catching a rat, pink eyes widening slightly.

You looked at Doflamingo. Doflamingo looked at you. 

Silence.

Staring at you, he tossed another cookie into his large mouth, the crunch as he chewed on it filling the large bedroom.

You blinked, more bewildered than anything. It was still night out, but it must be very very early morning.

You wondered if he'd had a nightmare. Usually, you were able to keep them at bay with your presence, running your fingers through his hair and soothing him in his sleep until the nightmare ebbed away, chased away by your loving touch, but sometimes that didn't work.

“Before you say anything,” said Doflamingo, his deep voice covering you with a weight similar to his feather coat. “I am the king. I can do whatever I want, whenever I want. If I want to eat cookies at 3 am…” The blond pulled the box closer to his stomach protectively. “I will eat cookies at 3 am.”

When you continued staring, Doflamingo added, “Don't tell Monet.”

Poor Monet has given Doflamingo trauma or something of the like because she always kept him on schedule. He could never escape his royal duties with Monet around. He'd tried, much like you did. You both got dragged back to the palace within thirty minutes, feeling properly ashamed from the cold, chilly gaze Monet gave you.

“I am the king, and I am hungry, so what if I'm eating cookies?” continued Doflamingo. “I deserve cookies. I work hard all day.”

“And I deserve to eat cookies.  I’m a Celestial Dragon, nobody can tell me what to do.” said Doflamingo. Was it you, or was he eating the cookies faster, as though afraid you would start scolding him any moment, stop him from indulging in the sweets? “Even if you're my wife, I won't listen to you. I won't abandon the cookies, and if you got a problem, then -”

“Can I have some?” you asked, breaking off Doflamingo's monologue.

He stopped. “Huh?” he asked, tilting his head, confused.

You couldn't help it anymore. You smiled, beaming at your husband while his thin, blond eyebrows furrowed in further confusion.

That was it. He looked so adorable when he was confused. You giggled.

“Cookies,” you said, smiling, cheeks hurting from smiling so much. “Can I have some?”

Doflamingo dropped the cookie in his shock. His pink eyes stared at you for a moment, completely surprised.

Then, a huge, big, excited smile engulfed his face, stretching from ear to ear.

Without replying, Doflamingo hopped down from the table, carrying the box of cookies, and approached your side of the bed. Within a second, he lifted you into his arm, cradling you to his chest. 

He chuckled at your squeal, the sound drumming against his bare chest.

With a twitch of fingers, he opened the doors of the balcony, and walked outside, into the night, carrying you and the cookie box. He sat himself down on the large hammock, placing you on his thigh.

The night in Dressrosa was fresh and warm, the entire country swathed in darkness, streets lit by the moonlight above. The stars glittered in the night sky. You stared up in awe at them until Doflamingo’s long digits cradled your jaw, demanding your attention. When you turned to him, he offered you a cookie. It looked incredibly small between his tanned, large fingers, like a blueberry.

The cookie was circular and thick, dusted with melted sugar. You ate it, chewing on it. It melted in your mouth.

You moaned happily. The cookie was delicious! The body was chewy and soft, like a muffin.

Doflamingo chuckled, the stars twinkling in his pink eyes. “They’re polvorones, a Dressrosan dessert.”

“Delicious,” you murmured, mouth watering, smiling.

Doflamingo hummed in agreement. He slid his large body down to lie down, lounging on the hammock, curling his long arm around you, pulling your head onto his shoulder, sliding your body onto his torso, where you laid atop his chest.

You took another polvorone from the bowl and offered it to him. Doflamingo outright grinned, a lewd smile on his face.

He laughed softly, the deep sound of it resounding across the balcony, across your very body.

He opened his mouth and ate the offered treat, moaning with each chew shamelessly, half-lidded eyes staring straight at you, his hands wrapped around your waist, thumbs caressing your hips.

You lost sensation in your palm.

“Delicious,” said Doflamingo after he swallowed, repeating your words back at you, the fierce gaze of his pink eyes melting your heart. “Melts right in my mouth.”

The long, tanned digits dragged up your spine. The king smirked, white teeth flashing. He tilted your chin up with his thumb, drawing your face up to his, making you look straight into his breathtaking eyes.

“Just like you,” he crooned with a smile of the half-crescent moon in the starry night sky.

Your beetroot face made your husband laugh again, the sound filling the night of Dressrosa.

In the morning, Monet, after not finding you or Doflamingo in the throne room, and after neither of you appeared at the breakfast table with the rest of the family, went looking for the two of you. Imagine her surprise when she found the royal bedroom to be empty. She was about to pull the alarm - Doflamingo must have swept you away to the sky again and you two were probably somewhere in the streets of Dressrosa or a restaurant, or worse, on another island - but then she went to check the balcony.

You and Doflamingo were sleeping in the hammock, Doflamingo’s long arm wrapped around your waist possessively, curled around you like a rope. His other arm covered your entire spine, his palm larger than your head cradling the back of your skull, his long fingers relaxed in your hair. You laid atop his torso, your head buried in his neck, the tips of your toes resting on his thighs. In your sleep, your hands were wrapped around his neck, your fingers buried in his short, soft blond hair. Both of you looked peaceful.

There were cookie crumbs on you both, an empty tray with remnants of polvorones on the table beside the hammock.

Monet let you and Doflamingo sleep, and called Diamante to let him know everything was all right.

You were safe, snuggled in the warmth of your husband, sleeping in the arms of your king.

Taglist: @fanaticsnail

[alwaysthefool]

Stranger (x Fyodor)

Warnings: None probably but ask to warn

Tags: Fluff maybe, gender neutral, no spoilers

Another party you knew would end up in your pile of things that made you sadder. Once again you were reminded that you didn’t have any friends, did not know anyone there, but had to attend as a dutiful heir to an absent family. Even people that knew you pretended they didn’t, and you wondered if it had something to do with the way you look.

You did not even try to strike up conversation. In places like these, you could only speak if you were introduced by someone else. Although sitting alone was a common experience for you, looking at others socialising made you feel like an alien.

I just have to make it through a few hours, you told yourself as the loneliness brought forth a hint of a tear to your eye. You could do with anyone, just anyone, anyone to be there with you and speak to you. Just one friend.

Please.

As you could not bear the welling loneliness and embarrassing experience of sitting alone looking at either other people or your phone, you stood up from your seat and headed towards the balcony, only to bump into a tall, dashingly handsome, thin man, with violet eyes that matched the colour of your clothes. You felt like that couldn’t be a coincidence, and in his beauty, doubted if you had chosen your garb for that very purpose.

“Uh, sorry.” you spoke a little awkwardly, trying not to gawk at his eyes, politely moving aside to enter the relieving air of the balcony. You cursed yourself mentally for not knowing how to communicate in a more polished manner, but the view of the stars in the sky, the cool breeze, and the lack of other people made you forget those thoughts for a moment. But it was the darkness you loved the most, even if it was scary, it was empty. Devoid of souls.

Or so you thought.

As you leaned on the railing, you noticed that person beside you again, yelping from how he appeared out of nowhere.

The man chuckled. “Apologies if I scared you.”

“Oh, it’s okay.” You mentally cringed at your awkwardness again. But anyway, what was he doing back there? You thought perhaps you should be the one to start making conversation, so you introduced yourself. “Um, hi, I’m [name].”

“Adorable.” You realised he was staring at you, not even turning away when you looked at him to talk. It felt like he could see right through you, and if he looked away, it meant he was done reading. You regretted asking for a friend earlier, but didn’t have it in you to leave. Besides, he was cool, in a rat sort of way. “I’m Fyodor.”

He kept staring, and you couldn’t take it. “Why are you staring at me?”

“Because you’re beautiful, and I don’t understand what you’re doing here alone.” He finally looked away. “I never intended to make you uncomfortable.”

You didn’t have any meek ‘oh it’s completely okay’s in you left, so you decided to stay silent. You didn’t want him to leave, however, and kept thinking about him calling you beautiful. As for why you did not have a date, everyone you asked kept cancelling. It was strange, to say the least, and made you feel pathetic, so pathetic you couldn’t even tell Fyodor off because at least someone was speaking to you.

“So tell me, what are you doing in the balcony?”

“Getting air.” You lied, more eager to ask what he was doing there. “You?”

“Keeping an angel company.”

You blushed at the response, hating yourself for it. “You’re really direct.”

“It’s no secret I’d like to whisk you away from here.” He looked at you again, and so did you, his dark eyes glittering in moonlight, everything about his pale face perfect.

You didn’t realise how long you’d just been staring at each other, or when he closed the distance between the two of you, his lips feeling dry and somewhat chapped, but perfect, as you kissed him back, as if allowing him to drink from your own lips. His hands snaked around your waist, pulling you closer, as yours rested on his shoulders. Even though you were the one out of breath, he pulled away first, as if allowing you to breathe.

“Sorry.” He noticed. “You were just too… sweet.”

Maybe you had one more ‘oh it’s completely okay’ left in you, just for him. “Now, how about we go somewhere more private, and less… suffocating.”

“Please.”

[specialagentlokitty]

Mr Evershed x Student!reader - no more fighting

Hiya, would you be able to do mr evershed x student!reader who gets injured at skl? X - Anon💜

It wasn’t news to anyone who had been at the school longer enough that you had a temper, a bad temper. You lost your cool easily, you snapped and got into more than your fair share of fights.

Mr Evershed had heard stories about you from students and teachers alike, warning him off your behaviour but he wasn’t so quick to believe it.

You were always smiling or laughing, you caused a bit of trouble, listening to music or in your phone when you shouldn’t be, running through the school, but nothing too major.

It was lunch, and you were leaning against your locker when you saw Sam out the corner of your eye.

“Hey.” You said.

She was practically in tears and you stuffed your phone into your pocket and turned around to face her.

“What’s up?”

“They’re at it again! I.. I don’t know what to do!” She sobbed.

Sam threw her arms around you and you gently hugged her, running your hand up and down her back as you narrowed a small group of students on the opposite end of the hallway looking over and laughing.

“Watch my bag.”

You pulled away and pulled your blazer and hoodie off, dropping your tie on the pile of your stuff on the floor and rolled up your sleeves.

“(Y/N)…” she warned.

She knew what you were about to do and she placed a hand on your shoulder to try and stop you.

“Don’t! You’ll get suspended!”

“They shouldn’t be making fun of people for being gay, let’s see how funny they think it is when they’re on that floor.”

Sam tried to keep you back and she couldn’t and students started to crowd around realising what you were about to do.

Walking over to group you placed your hand in the lockers next to you.

“What do you want?” One of the girls scoffed.

You looked at her and scoffed back.

“You need to go back to the circus love, that much makeup? No wonder you can’t see your rat face in the mirror.”

She scoffed and stepped back and one of the boys stepped forward, sneering a little at you.

“Get lost freak.”

You rolled your eyes at him and he made some snide remark about Sam and you smirked.

“So it’s you that made those comments?” You asked.

“So what? It’s weird innit.”

“No what’s weird is that face that you smell like a rubbish tip and you think all the girls are into you. Hate to break the news mate but the only thing into you is the rats living in your house.”

He swung for you, fist connecting with your face and your head snapped to the side.

Smirking, you brought a hand up to touch just under your nose to see blood on your hand and you grinned a little at him.

“That’s all I needed.”

Students started cheering about a fight, and you punched him back.

He stumbled back a few times and you grabbed his hair, kneeing him in the face he doubled over and you pulled his hair, forcing him to look up at you.

“Remember me next time you pick on someone for being gay…” you whispered.

You slammed him into the locker and let him fall to the ground and one of his friends jumped in, pushing you to the ground they started to kick you.

You groaned a little as they kept kicking and you grabbed one of their legs, pulling them to the ground.

“Right enough! That’s enough!”

A few teachers got involved, separating everyone and you got on your knees, groaning a little as you spat some blood on the floor.

“Bloody hell (Y/N)…”

Sam helped you stand up and steadied you as you fell back into the lockers.

You rested your back on them as you gasped for air a little bit, wiping the back of your hand across the face giving Sam a little grin.

“You’re an idiot!” She hissed.

“Right, you three, Mrs Carters office now!”

The three students and their friends were escorted away and Mr Evershed spun around to face you, pointing at you before pointing down the hallway.

“You my classroom!” He snapped.

He stormed away and Sam nodded, grabbing your stuff she walked to the teachers classroom with you holding the door open.

You walked in and sat down on a table, and Sam set your stuff down.

“Go Sam.”

“See you later…” she whispered.

She left and you held your hand under your nose to try and stop the blood from falling on everything around you.

Mr Evershed pointed to you.

“Wait here!” He snapped.

He stormed away and you sat there, swinging your legs back and forth a little as you waited, knowing you weren’t going it get very far.

A few minutes later he came back and he set a bunch of paper towels on the table next to you.

“Let me see.” He said.

“It’s fine, stop in no time.”

Mr Evershed said nothing, he grabbed a few pepper towels and pushed them into your free hand and started to pace the length of the classroom.

“Fighting?! Seriously?!” He said.

You rolled your eyes, covering your nose with the paper towels and grabbed another to wipe some of the blood on your shirt.

Mr Evershed turned to look at you, a bloodied mess.

“You think it’s acceptable?” He said.

“He punched me first.”

“You bounced the boys head of a bloody locker (Y/N)!” He hissed.

“So what? He shouldn’t be picking on people for who they are should he?”

“You could be suspended!”

You shrugged a little, tossing the paper towels into the bin, you looked at him.

Mr Evershed walked over and stood in front of you.

“Tilt your head up.”

“Isn’t that a bit inappropriate sir?”

“(Y/N) I need to see if you’ve got a broke nose or not.”

You did as he said, and he spent a few minutes carefully inspected your nose, making sure it was okay before he grabbed some more paper towels.

He held them to your nose and you took them from him to hold them in place.

“Right I’m calling your parents, I can try talk Mrs Carter out of suspending you but given your reputation I doubt that’s possible. Seriously? Fighting?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been suspended for it. Parents told me to fight for what’s right innit.”

“I don’t think they meant literally fighting.”

You grinned at him a little and he sighed, shaking his head at you.

“You need change your attitude, right? You can’t go round throwing fists at anyone who gets on your nerves. Get your stuff we’re going to Mrs Carter, she should be done with the others.”

You got down from the table and leant down to pick up your stuff.

A blinding pain fill you and you yelled in pain, dropping to your knees as you wrapped an arm around your ribs, forehead resting in the floor.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N)!”

Mr Evershed dropped down next to you, fumbling for his phone his called Mrs Carter first, telling her to come to his classroom.

He hung up and set his phone down, and he place a hand on your back.

You drew a small breath and tried to pushed yourself from floor, but the moment you stood up you nearly passed out.

Mr Evershed caught you and Mrs Carter rushed into the room.

“What the bloody hell is going on?!” She snapped.

“I.. I don’t know! They just fell to the floor!” He rushed out.

He gently sat you down and you pushed him away, trying to stand up again.

The two teachers had to fight to get you to sit back down, you leant against one of the tables.

“Right we’re calling an ambulance.” Mrs Carter said.

She quickly got on her phone and you coughed a little, wincing in pain as you turned to the other teacher.

“I think you’ve cracked or broken a few ribs, just sit still yeah?” He asked.

You didn’t have it in you to try and fight him in this one, so you nodded, groaning in pain as another sharp stab of pain washed over you.

“Alright, alright…” he whispered.

He took his blazer off and got you to gently lean forward, putting it behind your back for more comfort.

“Just Breathe…” he whispered.

You slowly nodded and rested your head back, staring at the wall as you took ragged breaths.

You’d never felt someone so painful before, it hurt, it hurt so much you had tears falling from your face.

“They’re coming but they said it could take a few hours.” Mrs Carter sighed.

“A few hours?! They can hardly breath!”

“I know! I know! But we can’t move them either! They said to keep (Y/N) sat upright, keep them talking and awake.”

Mrs Carter walked over and knelt down, placing a hand on your arm.

“This is why I told you to stop.” She said softly.

You just nodded and she got up again, going to handle the students that were waiting outside for their class to start.

Mr Evershed looked at you.

“You’ve got to stop the fighting (Y/N), please?”

“I’m.. im.. sorry… I’m sorry..” you whispered.

“Hey, hey it’s okay. It’s okay, alright? It’s going to be okay, alright?”

“Sir.. I.. I.. I’m scared… I’m so scared…”

He reached out and took your hand, letting you grip his hand tightly as you turned to look at him, breathing shakily.

“You don’t have to be scared, alright? I’m here, I’m not going anywhere…”

Mr Evershed sat with you while you waited for the ambulance, keeping you talking and telling you it was going to be okay.

He’d never seen someone so scared, so in pain before in his life, and he couldn’t just leave you sat there in pain by yourself.

He couldn’t bring himself to do it.

He didn’t see a student with no future, a student with anger issues that couldn’t be reached.

He saw a student, hurt, crying, doing anything to ask for help, anything for someone to pay even a little bit of attention to them even if it meant going about it all the wrong ways.

The ambulance came and you looked at him.

“Don’t go.. don’t go…” you begged.

He looked at you then to Mrs Carter and she slowly nodded.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

With that he followed you out of the school and to his car to race to the hospital so you weren’t alone.

But the moment he was able to see you and talk to you he was going to get to the bottom of this behaviour, the real reason you were the way you were because he knew that it wasn’t the real you.

He knew there was something else going on, and after seeing what happened today, he was going to do everything in his power as a teacher to make sure you never got into a situation like this again

[your-ghoul-pal]

Shining Brightly (Chapter 1/?)

Tags: transfem!terzo, fluff, coming out, accidental coming out(?), Copia is a shithead little brother, (Terzo and Copia are siblings) Wordcount: 3k

A/N: idk if I will write more for it, mostly since writers block is bugging me Read on AO3

Her heart beat high in her chest while she slipped on her only dress. A cute pinkish red dress with flowers on the skirt. She loved this dress so dearly and wished she could show everyone but she was mortified, mortified for the reactions. She was to be the next papa, she had to be a man even when she wasn't one. A knock on the door brought her back, "Don't come in" she says, panic setting out through her whole body. "Why not?" She recognized the voice of her little brother, Copia. "Ehm, because I'm changing?" she answers.

She took off the dress as quickly as she could but Copia had already entered the room holding one of his rats, "What a cool dress." "I told you to not come in" her voice was shaky.

"I'm sorry" Copia says, facing the floor.

She can hear his voice break a little. "Hey, don't worry. Just don't tell anyone about the dress" She says while quickly throwing on trousers and a t-shirt, the dress laying in a small pile on the bed.

"What dress?" Secondo says entering the room. Her cheeks flustered up in embarrassment "nothing, just don't tell any more people. Please" she said with pleading eyes.

"My mouth is sealed" she recognized Primo's voice. "Can't you leave your sister alone for one moment" once she realised what she said her eyes widened in fear. "Sister?" Secondo asked, confused.

Carefully Terzo looked up to face her brothers, none of them looked angry, their faces rather read as empathetic.

"Yes" she mumbled, her body flooding with shame.

"I've always wanted a sister" Copia broke the silence after a moment "and now I've got one of the coolest ones as well!"

Terzo felt tears burn in her eyes and a soft sob leaves her lips. Copia carefully puts the rat on his shoulder and wraps his arms around his sister.

Primo and Secondo look at each other, unsure of what to do. All they knew was that they had to protect their sister from their parents, since they were rather old fashioned. But that was a problem they would tackle later.

“Hey, Terzo?” Primo started, Terzo softly nodded “Terzo” she answered whispering. “Terzo, you know we love you, even if we don’t show it as much. But we will make shit go down if anyone dares to be mean about this. Understood?” he continued on a demanding tone that always scared Terzo a bit but she answered him with a soft nod.

“Do you want to keep this between us, just us as broth- ehm. siblings having a little secret?” Secondo chimed in. “Yes, please,” Terzo said, feeling like a weight was taken off her shoulders. However, another weight was added. Her older brothers would pose no real threat, but her little brother could be horrible at secrets. She just hoped he could keep one, for once.

Primo and Secondo left the room to go back to their tasks. Primo went back to the gardens and Secondo went to pass by the library. Copia looked at Terzo, unsure if he also had to leave. “Can I stay?” he asked with a small voice. Terzo wasn't sure, she likes hanging out with her little brother sometimes, but also often he could be a first class asshole. “Sure, just promise you won’t tell anyone, and I mean ANYONE about this.” She said after thinking about it for a moment.

Copia smiled and tried to get his rat out of his sleeve before sitting down on the bed. Terzo’s room was on the small side, plus it wasn’t very personal to her. Her mattress that laid atop of some pallets was dressed in the boring sheets from the church, plain black with some white and gold details here and there. The dresser that held her clothes was painted a dark purple, her signature colour. The colour that already dressed the cloths in front of the window. In a way she was glad her signature colour was more on the feminine side, but she wished it had been brighter.

She is pulled from her thoughts from a squeak from a rat, “Sorry” Copia murmured directly afterwards. “She had something in her fur, I tried getting it out, she is not a fan.” “Don’t worry,” Terzo says, turning to her brother. Who is holding his rat and softly pets it, his eyes are filled with questions.

“What do you want to know little one?” she says sitting down next to him. She knows he is often not the one to dare to ask anything, not wanting to be an inconvenience. “Ehm, nothing. Don’t worry about it.” he stumbles out.

“I know you want to know something, just ask it. Just let it out. I won’t be upset. I promise” Terzo said, placing her hand on Copia’s shoulder. He turns his head to her and she stares right into his little puppy eyes, on the verge of tears, “really?”

“Really” she smiles at him.

“I-I-I was wondering if, if, if. I wanted to know if.” Copia stumbles. “Take your time,” Terzo reassures him. Copia takes a deep breath and continues “I wanted to know if it is okay if I could take you to the yule celebrations as my big sister, or if we have to still go as brothers?” his voice breaking of nervousness.

“I don’t know, Yule is still many months away. Let’s first deal with the other stuff this year brings. My pappacy coming up worries me more.” Terzo responds with sorrow in her voice.

“I don’t think it should be a problem” Copia responds, hopping off the bed. “Maybe you can try and grow your hair out and make yourself more like you subtly” he adds half twirling through the small open space in the room, “Like I can help you paint your nails!” Copia adds, excited. “Maybe we can paint my nails, maybe also yours, if you want to? We can make it a kind of girls night.” Terzo said with a smile “I think there are some siblings who are okay with lending some?”

“Shall I go and ask?” Copia was practically jumping around from joy. Terzo just watched him with a smile, “Sure, just don’t tell anyone about your cool and awesome big sister.” She says. Copia turns to face her and just flips her off before running off. Terzo just scuffs at her brother's reaction, she stepped off the bed and looked at the little bundle of her dress. She picked it up and held it in front of her, turning to the mirror on the door. This dress is so fucking nice, I wish I could wear one on stage once I am pappa, or would my title be mama? She shrugs, that will discussed later she hoped.

She folds the dress up and stuffs it back into the back of the dresser, behind her “normal” clothes. Maybe someday

She sits back onto her bed and fiddles with her hands, anxious about everything that her little brother could be causing. She just hopes he tells whoever he is talking with that the nail polish he is trying to get is for him and not his big sister. She tries to keep herself from biting her nails again, knowing it will only make her upset. Short bitten off nails gave her an odd feeling of hatred, she loved her nails on the short side but well kept.

After what felt like hours, when it was maybe twenty minutes at maximum, Copia stormed into her room again. He held out his fist and opened it to show Terzo a bottle of deep blue purple ish nail polish. “Unholy Satanas, that is fucking beautiful” Terzo exclaimed picking over the bottle.

She scooted a bit to the side and petted the now empty spot next to her, inviting Copia to sit next to her. Carefully she unscrews the bottle and streaks the excess nail polish of the brush and puts the bottle on her nightstand. She takes the brush and hands it to Copia. “Can you paint them for me?” Terzo asked in a small voice. “Sure, but be warned, I am probably pretty bad at it” he answered with a cheeky smile.

“Probably better than if I did it myself.”

Copia took the little brush in his hand and Terzo’s hand in his other, carefully he began to paint her nails. One by one they got a thin coat of nail polish.

Terzo noticed tears rolling down her cheeks, she had tried to stop them but it was a hopeless attempt. However they didn’t feel like tears of sadness or anything bad. It were tears that held hands with her while skipping through the high grass and flowers, forgetting all worries and problems. She wished this feeling to stay forever.

After the first coat of nail polish was on Copia screwed the bottle close again, waiting for the coat to dry before applying the second one. They both looked at the work Copia had done so far, surely it didn’t look amazing but Terzo didn’t care, it made her feel alive.

“Have you done this before?” Terzo asked, breaking the silence and Copia’s concentration. Copia turned to her, shaking his head. “Nope, never really done it myself, but I have seen siblings paint each other's nails a lot so I just copied what they did” he shrugs.

The silence returns, Copia let himself fall back onto the bed with a deep sigh. Terzo turns slightly to look at him, raising her eyebrow. “What the fuck was that needed for?” she says.

“What was what needed for” Copia says, slightly annoyed, propping himself up on his elbows. “There was no need to throw yourself back that hard, you know you could have very possibly hit the wall with your head. You know what happened last time, you don't want that again, do you?” Terzo says with a serious tone.

“Ugh”, Copia grunted as he threw himself on the bed again.

After a few minutes of tense silence Copia sits up again and reaches for the nail polish. “I think the first coat is dry, let’s add the second one” he says, twisting the cap off. Terzo gave him her hand and Copia carefully adds a second coat of polish. Terzo looks at him working carefully, his tongue pushed out a little bit as a sign of his concentration.

“And… done.” he says sitting up and loosening his grip on her hand, Terzo looks at her hands. The nail polish was not as neat, little blobs of it sitting around her finger nails, but she didn’t care. “I am sorry it is so messy, I truly tried” Copia says in a small voice, letting his head hang. “Don’t worry little one, I love it.” Terzo reassured him, “really” Copia softly said, turning his head a bit to face her. “Yes,” Terzo answered.

“Now we wait for it to dry, but I think I will first bring this back to the sibling I lend it from.” Copia says, standing up and grabbing the bottle. “Don’t you want to paint your nails too?” Terzo asked him, confused. “I’d want to but I think it gets in the way of handling my rats so I will skip out on this one” he said hopping off the bed. “Oh, okay”, she responded with slight disappointment.

—

Terzo felt glad no one really mentioned the nail polish, and the one sibling who had asked about it was nice about it. Only Imperator and Nihil had been mean about it, but her brothers had stood up for her. However when she noticed that the nail polish began to chip away she felt a dread in her chest, her painted nails brought her so much joy. She didn’t understand why but who cares, sometimes things don’t need to make sense.

The one response she will never forget is from a sister who had pulled her to the side. Which already didn’t happen often, and when it did there was a lot of flirting going on beforehand. But this time, there hadn’t been any flirting, hell there had never been a conversation between the two of them, or at least for as far as Terzo remembered.

“I am sorry, but I just need to talk to you, under four eyes” the sister said, in a voice familiar to Terzo but she couldn’t place it. “No reason to be sorry, Sister…. What is your name?” She carefully asked. “I am sister Agnes, well you don’t know me as that, but it is who I truly am.” Sister Agnes responded. Terzo raised her eyebrow,

“What do you mean?”

Agnes took a deep breath, “What I am trying to say is that I joined the church as a brother, and well now I am here, as me, a sister of sin. Living a happy and sinful life.” “Well I am happy you found yourself sister, but may I ask what this has to do with me?” Terzo asked, trying to avoid the topic shifting to her.

“I know something is bothering you, you are scared to admit it, or at least show it. I can see it in your eyes. It may be invisible to others but I see it in you, everything you do tells me something about you. Would you be okay with talking about it with me?” Agnes says, her hand holding Terzo’s chin and forcing her to keep eye contact. Terzo flashes her eyes between Agnes’ eyes, terrified. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK HOW DID I NOT KEEP MY GUARD UP ENOUGH, SOMEONE SAW RIGHT TROUGH IT. I AM SUCH A FUCKING IDIOT.

“Hey, back to earth.” Agnes snapped her fingers in front of Terzo’s face. “Would you be okay with talking about it with me, cause I feel it is an issue I have a bit more knowledge on than the average person.” she said with a small laugh, gesturing at herself. “I-I-I don’t know what you are talking about, why would you make such assumptions about your future leader,” Terzo responded, trying to sound big and strong but instead she sounded weak, frail and scared. She knew that Agnes was aware, she knew she could help, but she was too scared to admit it. “Are you serious?” Agnes said, almost teasingly.

Terzo tried to let her head hang but Agnes quickly grabbed her chin and made her look up to her again, “Let me try again. Would. You. Be. Okay. To. Talk. About. It. With. Me.” she said, putting emphasis on every word. Terzo looked down and let her shoulders hang, she could let her head hang since Agnes moved her hands to lay on Terzo’s shoulders. “Anyways, if you want to talk you know how to find me” she smiled at her before leaving. Terzo stayed behind, in utter shock. She wasn’t sure what happened, but she knew she should talk to her. She knew she would need to set herself over her fears and pride and just get help answering her questions.

After a few minutes of staring at the floor, lost in thoughts she also left and returned to her room. Once she closed the door the tears started to flood her eyes, spilling over her cheeks and onto the floor. She let herself slide down the door to the floor, her head leaning against her knees that she had pulled up to her chest. She didn’t hear the soft squeaking from a rat, Copia’s rat, so when she felt soft fur against her leg she was startled.

She carefully picked up the rat, “What are you doing here little fella? Do you like me more than my annoying little brother?” she asks the rat in a playful tone. The rat squeaks back at her, causing her to smile a bit. “Come let’s bring you back to where you belong.” She stands up and puts the rat on her shoulder and wipes her face clean off the tears.

She walks down the hallways to her brother's room, the rat happily squeaking on her shoulder. She doesn’t knock before entering his room, she is met by Copia, sitting on the floor. His shoulders softly shaking, indicating that he is crying. “Hey, little bro, I found your rat,” she says, carefully approaching him. “Thank you” he softly sobs, taking over the rat Terzo hands him. “What’s the matter little guy?” Terzo asks, sitting down next to him on the floor. “Nothing,” Copia shrugged, his head turned to the floor.

“Don’t try and act all tough,” Terzo says softly, nudging him. Copia smiles a bit and scoffs at her, “I am not trying to act tough, I am though.” “Yeah and the moon is square” Terzo jokes at him. Copia scuffs and gives Terzo a shove, “You are still such an ass, you know that right?” She laughs “Well, I am still your big sibling, it is my big sibling duty. Doesn’t matter if I’m your big sister or your big brother.” Copia rolls his eyes and stands up to put the rat back into its cage.

Terzo stands up and joins him by the cage, 2 rats are now seem curled up against each other in the little hangmat. Terzo leans her head against Copia’s shoulder, since he is a bit taller. “Is this part of having a sister? Having some emotional wreckage leaning against me?” Copia says playfully, softly shoving Terzo away from him. Terzo lifts her head up and turns to face him just to roll her eyes at him and scuff.

“Anyway, I have to get going, I have work to do. Keep your rats to yourself little one” Terzo says turning to the door, she can hear Copia murmur “I am literally fucking taller than you, stop calling me little.” Before she slips out the door she adds “You are younger, you will always be my teeny tiny little brother”. All Terzo hears while she walks away from her brother's room is an annoyed grunt and she softly laughs to herself.

[tommyspeakycap]

always yours (2)

it's time for John to come clean

part two of this fic i wrote ages ago ahaha

The pounding in your cranium when you wake up is nothing short of completely relentless. So much so that you have to wonder if you actually incurred some kind of minor traumatic brain injury either during the night out on the piss up or in whatever antics had found you sleeping on your bedroom floor as opposed to your actual bed a few feet away from you.

Truly you can't be sure if you were ever on there. Had you rolled off in your sleep and been too rat-arsed to notice or had you simply decided the floor was a better suited place to sleep. If the latter was the case then you'd have to disagree with whatever logic drunk you had applied to that train of thought because the shoulder of the side that you were laying on is protesting the drunken stupidity in the form of a screaming ache to match the headache.

Drunk you gets one point for the pillow that sits between your head and the deceptively hard carpet. Your body desperately wants to scrape itself off the floor but your stomach has a different say in the matter. There is every potential that any sight movement - even so little as rolling onto your back - will trigger a chain of events that will begin with a funny sound in your stomach, move into nausea and end most likely with your head down the toilet, should you make it that far.

Instead, you offer a groggy groan that only serves to make you realise how severely sand paper level of dry your mouth actually is.

"Jesus god," you croak, daring to actually open your eyes properly for the first time. "How did I even...fuck me." There aren't enough words available in your extremely hungover vocabulary to string together a sentence so soon after waking up from the near alcoholic coma you had just been in.

You have absolutely 0 recollection of pretty much all of the night, however specifically the part where you ended up back in your own house first and fore mostly. Many a morning past when you wake up like this, you are not alone.

Forcing yourself to the edge of the bed, you hope that the headache and its accompanying dizziness will dissipate with the tropical juice you don’t recall leaving on your side dresser. It’s too cold to have been placed there during the night, which was when you had assumed you stumbled in. The furrowing of your eyebrows is relieved only seconds after it begins when it sends your head spinning with further pain. A distinct worry crawls its way back up your throat at the thought of you bringing someone home who had gotten up early and decided for whatever reason to get you a drink of your absolute favourite hangover drink.

“Investigate then pee, or pee then investigate?” You mumble to yourself. The question is answered for you however when you stand up and suddenly do feel a dire urge to empty your bladder that you must not have emptied before bed like you usually would sober so you don’t wake up first thing in the morning nearly bursting at the seams. “Pee it is.”

There is a slight temptation to hunt for your phone to take to the bathroom with you, but it’s overcome by the need to pee and the fact that the brightness of even just your apple-generated front wallpaper would probably be enough to worsen the hangover headache that was already carving nails into your skull.

You also don’t at all recall brushing your teeth last night, but your breath doesn’t taste absolutely rank like it definitely would have done if you hadn’t. When you catch sight of yourself in the mirror, you almost jump in fright. You must not have slept for as long as you thought you might have because you have those tell tale darkened circles and slightly puffy eyelids that indicate your body’s objection to the sleepless night. And god, your hair is piled on top of your head so awfully that you fear a bird might fly by the window and think its home is sitting atop your head.

Assuming your singular presence in the apartment, you have no desire to pick up your pyjama trousers and settle for only your pants and the long t-shirt you had no memory of picking out last night to pad out from your room to the kitchen.

Smells you weren’t quite sure how to place but definitely appreciated wafted out of your kitchen before you had even turned the corner and someone was humming despite the lack of any music in the room. You would be mildly afraid, but the second you round the corner you can tell exactly who was standing in your kitchen by his long bare back and the tattoos you can see peeking out from the shorts that are far, far too small for him.

“Are those Peter’s shorts?”

John turns around in surprise, hair still fluffy from sleeping somewhere in this apartment. You weren’t quite sure where that could be, but he must’ve slept here for whatever reason. Didn’t make much sense to you considering his apartment was several miles better than yours and had not only his own room and very plush bed, but a spare room that was fully decorated and cleaned every week despite its rare use.

He looks down almost bashfully at the pair of white shorts he had found in his rummaging through your closet in the hall that he knew was filled with a laundry basket of clean clothes you hadn’t found the time to find a place for just yet. Be that place the charity bag or a spot in your room cupboard. “Yeah,” he admits, rubbing his large hands over his thighs to try and stretch the material down further in a futile attempt to allow his dick a little bit more room in those very near tighty-whities. Peter clearly didn’t have a lot going for him, John notes to himself. “Couldn’t find anything better.”

You snigger slightly, the act of shaking your head sending the previous headache into one of those that stretches down the back of your neck, but you don’t let on much. “You lived here for like, two months, John. I’ve got plenty of clothes of yours.” You smile, not allowing him to speak another word before you disappear with another laugh travelling up the hall with the image of him standing there trying to look as normal as he can with those shorts cutting off circulation to his most prized possession.

You return quickly, very much to John’s joy, with an old pair of Manchester City training shorts from the 2019 season.

“Think fast.”

John always does, especially when he’s in the presence of you.

He reaches out his hands to catch the flying material of those black shorts. He wishes you could’ve just handed them to him over the small kitchen island. That way, he wouldn’t have had to see the skin at the tops of your thighs that he imagines is so soft and warm. The raise of your t-shirt leaves nothing to his imagination, not even the colour of the underwear you’d pulled up your legs. You catch him off guard just about every time you breathe with the love he has for you, and somehow being told about it last night from the woman he was dating pretty happily just 12 hours ago had made it all the more real and impossible to ignore all of a sudden.

Being with you like this wasn’t something that was new. In fact it was incredibly common to share an abundance of time with each other whenever he wasn’t at training or games. It all just felt so different now. There were words on the tip of his tongue, his mind mulling over whether or not he should dare to say them now, later or ever.

John lets out a heavy sigh of relief as he tugs off those tight shorts, pulling them roughly off his legs to replace them with his own perfectly fitting ones. “Peter wasn’t very well-endowed then, eh?” John teases, flashing you a playful wink as he pushes a plate of breakfast over in your direction and sits across from you at the island. You shrug, mouth full of toast as you retort a food muffled, “Good with his tongue though.” That makes John’s heart drop to the pit of stomach.

He obviously knew you had sex. It would have been ridiculously stupid for him to think otherwise and you’d both spoken about your sex lives in detail to one another before. But hearing it now after his heart had grown to take over his whole chest last night as he realised every little bit of him and always and likely would always solely belong to you was so much more painful than he ever really thought it would be.

“How’re you feeling?” John asks softly, only briefly flicking his eyes up from his breakfast to look at you. You groan just at the mention, “Worst part is not remembering anything at all.” You grumble, “Other than that, just mildly shit and wondering how the hell i got home last night?”

John chuckles, eyes lighting up at the thought of trudging you in through the door at 2am this morning. “With great difficulty.” He laughs, making you drop your head and flush slightly in embarrassment.

“Knew i shouldn’t have mixed drinks,” you huff.

“Yeah,” John scoffs playfully, “I’m sure it was the mixing drinks that did it.”

You want to scowl at him, but a snort of laughter breaks from you before you have the chance to mock any kind of irritation for the tall shirtless man taking the empty plate from you after having both devoured your brunch. “You won’t believe what I’m about to ask then?” He says, his back to you as he rises off the plates the sink, making you grin to yourself subconsciously because he’s just always so damn sweet to you. It almost doesn’t make any sense to you why he can’t seem to keep a girlfriend. They last maybe a couple of months, sometimes you don’t even get to meet them before he’s telling you they’re done and he’s brushing off his hurt with a shrug something along the lines of, “Just couldn’t make it work with schedules ‘nd stuff'' then never wants to talk about it.

“All the boys got their final call ups today, so we’re having a party.” He begins. You have a rough idea where he’s going with that one and it already makes your stomach flip at the concept of more alcohol. “Oh really? A party?” You lilt softly, “That’s totally unique and something you boys have never ever done before!”

John rolls his eyes at you, drying the clean plates. He knows exactly which cupboard everything in your home belongs in. Dishtowels in the drawer by the sink, plates in the lower cabinet furthest from the fridge. He knows it like the back of his hand, subconscious and easily. He can move around without thought given to it like this was his own home. He was here so often it may as well have been. You give brief thought to that as you watch him.

“Anyway,” he dismisses, “I did have a date but then we broke up last night so I-”

“Oh my god, John! What happened, are you alright?”

John shrugs almost unbothered, trying to force the issue of the reason for the breakup away before you press on it and he accidentally lets anything about his slightly newfound secret out.

“Yeah fine. It is what it is. So this party is-”

“John seriously.”

“Seriously, I’m fine. I just need a date to this party and you’re the world's best party date.” He retorts simply.

You laugh, that tired morning chuckle he loves so much. It’s so different from the drunken giggle that his ears were inundated with last night - which he also loved. “We both know the world's best party date is Kyle, but you can’t invite him because he’ll already be there.” You retort with a cheeky grin. John throws his head back in a laugh.

“You laugh because you know I’m right.” You state, with a grin. He nods. Reaching forward to grab your apple from your hand to take a bite of it, “As always.” He says through the muffle of his mouth full of the red fruit.

“Cheeky sod.” You grumble, snatching your apple back. John rolls his eyes, feigning disgust at the taste of the apple he’d nicked from you. “Always granny smith,” he pretends to gag, “When you know i prefer pink lady.”

You snort a laugh, shaking your head as you giggle at him. Your laughter has always, always made him smile. It has a special place in his heart as one of the greatest gifts to mankind, that has ever been bestowed upon the earth. Truly John feels as if it is. When all else is dark in the world; whenever he isn’t playing or when he’s making mistakes and everyone’s on his back about everything, you are still there in his life. You’re there laughing at his stupid jokes and still making him feel wanted, loved and valued when everyone else wants him shipped off to a foreign country with people he doesn’t know for a club that people barely know the name of anymore. You are inevitable, always a feature by his side.

Surely you wouldn’t stand by him quite so much if you didn’t have even a smidge of the same feelings for him that he has for you?

“Maybe we could go like, together?” John suggest after a few moments of silence where you appear to be aimlessly scrolling through your phone looking at pictures and videos from last night of you laughing and joking. “We are,” you reply with an ever so slightly furrow of your brows for only a second. “We just talked about it, John. Are you still drunk?” You tease, having a little giggle to yourself at your own joke. John curses himself for not just being able to spit out that he’s asking you on a date. Or at least he’s trying to ask you on a date.

“No like, together together.” He tries to emphasise. “Like me and you, together.” The tall brunette gestures his tan arm between the two of you. The movement of his tense muscles beneath the bronzed forearms makes your stomach flutter a little and you curse him for turning you on at such an early hour as you find your mind wandering to how those muscles would ripple with the movement of his fingers curling onto where you really need him right now.

You have to shake your head rid of the thoughts.

For some reason it dawns on you now. He dressed you last night, pulled the city shirt over your head and suddenly you remember discarding your skirt somewhere in the middle of the room as he chuckled and turned away to save your modesty. He was the one who put the pillow under your head, tied back your hair, left the juice on the side for you to wake up to, made sure you brushed your teeth last night and then draped a blanket over you and kissed your head as your eyes fluttered shut into a drunken slumber.

“I wasn’t the drunk one last night.” John retorts, a sly grin playing on his features. “That was alllll you.”

You hold up a hand. “Don’t remind me, Johnathan. I do not want to know.” You groan exasperatedly, dropping your head to your hands. He chuckles loudly, head tipping back. “Johnathan isn’t even my name, you know that.”

“Yeah,” you shrug, “But it’s much more fun that just calling you John sometimes.” He rolls his eyes at you again.

“Come with me to this thing, please? Me and you together?” He asks again, making you furrow your brows deeper this time. You tilt your head a little in questioning, “John have you got short term memory loss or something? Seriously we just spoke about this.” You slide off your stool to go press the back of your palm against his forehead to check his temperature. One again, John wishes you were wearing shorts of some kind that wouldn’t let him view the soft warm skin of your upper thighs and the faint lace hem of those panties you have on. He takes a nervous and quick step back with a heavy sigh. “No,” he insists agitatedly. “You’re just not actually listening to me.”

“I am listening to you John. I said i’d come.” You retort, not liking the accusatory tone or the irritation in his voice.

“No!” John exclaims loudly, throwing his arms out in frustration. “I don’t come with you, i want to take you! I want us to get dressed together and i could kiss you and tell how beautiful i think you are in whatever dress you choose! I want to walk in with you but not just side by side, not just with each other but together. I want to spin you around the dance floor and kiss you when the music stops, i want to bring you home and get to sleep next to you so i can make sure you’re alright all night long. I want to wake up beside you and kiss you again because i don’t actually care how bad your breath is and i want to cook and eat breakfast together like this every single day forever because i am literally in love with you. So will you please be my date to this party tonight?”

Your jaw has literally dropped wide open, hanging there as he waits nervously and impatiently for your answer - whatever that may be.

“John,” you mutter apprehensively. You don’t want to put a foot wrong here. You’ve loved him since thirteen, well, two days shy of fourteen when your best friends didn’t bother to come to your birthday party and he made up for it all. He’s loved you even longer than that, but one wrong move could send all that friendship and a million possibilities tumbling down the drain. “You’ve just gotten out of a relationship, i think you’re just a bit confused.” You diffuse softly, pulling your lips between your teeth the second the words leave your mouth. John shakes his head feverently.

“No I’m not.” He protests. “She broke up with me, like they all do because it doesn’t take them very long to realise what i’ve been trying to fight and ignore my whole life.” He speaks, his words as sincere and honest as you’ve ever heard him. “But you said-”

“I lied.” The defender cuts you off with a shrug. “They all broke up with me, every one of them because they realised that i’m in love with you. They knew it, i knew it, everybody knows it but you. I can’t pretend anymore, (y/n).” His heart is literally beating faster than it ever has and he can’t even begin to think of a way to slow it down. Maybe he doesn’t even want to. There’s such a thrill to loving you, knowing so few can get so close to you, so few are allowed into your heart and yet he is. He wants to be the one to hold it and keep it safe from everyone else. He wants to have and to hold you and to love you forever. He wants everything and he wants it with you. No more waiting, denying or gutless pining.

“I’m in love with you (y/n) (y/l/n). So please, please say something.”

You swallow thickly, tears slipping down over your cheeks as you simply take one sweeping step forward and capture his lips against yours.

“I’ll be your date to the party tonight Stones on one condition.” You mumble breathlessly against his lips as his hands wander down your sides. “Mhm. Anything.” John grunts back, tugging your body flush against his. You guide his hand down to the wetness over those panties and he is absolutely enthralled by the feel of your skin, now knowing it feels exactly as soft and warm as it looks. “Bend me over that counter and fuck me like you joked about last year?”

“Oh of course, darling.”

[rumblelibrary]

Hello 👀❤️

So... I don't know if this will work or not, but I thought why not, I send it in... And if you don't like it, that's completely fine ❤️🔥

I really like how you write the characters' mind... What they are thinking or how they act... I was thinking, maybe a new mechanic (Reader) at Ferrari (yes, it's a Niki Lauda fic, you know me❤️🔥) who is really shy, but very good at their job, and Niki likes them and he is an asshole with everyone (which is normal from him) EXCEPT with the Reader... And like... Maybe at first he doesn't realize this, but then he does, and gets all conflicted like why is he getting soft suddenly, out of nowhere... (It is obvious, but not for him)... I'm curious how you would see this, write this... The ending of this story is up to you ❤️❤️

Love you ❤️🔥👀

What Is This Feeling [Niki Lauda x Mechanic!Reader]

Word count: 2.5k Warnings: lot of swearing by our favourite Rat King Author’s note: Niki is quickly turning into my comfort character to unleash my sass, thank you for giving me the chance to write him!

Part 2

On your first day at Ferrari nobody took you seriously, but to be a mechanic wasn’t exactly typing letters, it was not a place where somebody high up in the ranks would set a lover to give her some benefit and a free pay check.

You didn’t talk a lot, you stood your ground from the moment you put hands on any part of the car, but you weren’t exactly the chatty type and, being the only woman, it took you time to be allowed to the after work beer, to the birthdays and all the balancing that came with a good team spirit.

In a world full of bias about women, you were spared thanks to your abilities and knowledge. Or maybe, because the mechanics team had someone bigger to fight: Niki Lauda.

To work with him was thrilling, but stressful.

He would walk in at any hour of the day, break some egos, pile up an amount of changes that to make a brand new car would be a faster option.

You sat on the floor beside the baby, yes baby was the car, it wasn’t like you had to stay on the floor, there were more than plenty working stations, but it felt more comfortable for you: it gave you the chance to stand and look at things from afar, you were in need to touch, to understand, to put things together. It was your skill, but also your curse, because it was hard to gain yourself a space on the floor in such a fast paced environment like the one at Ferrari. You were working on the ignition when he stormed inside, the soft chats died fast and the noise of the radio was the only thing left, but he didn’t seem to mind the effect he had on people.

In a couple of long steps he was in front of one of your colleagues.

“What is this?” The man looked down to his sandwich like it was self explanatory, but the following silence brought him to answer “my lunch”

“Nice” Niki said, his lips curling downward in a very sarcastic amusement “well, take your lunch out of my garage because I don’t want your crumbles in my engine” he hissed picking the crumbles that effectively fell on the working table and sprinkling them like salt on the man’s face.

The man frowned and left to eat outside and avoid to punch him as Niki proceeded to his next victim.

“And you call this a design development? I call this dog shit”

“If this is a well done job, I’d better retire already before I get your good job to crack my skull open”

“Just begin again, don’t even ask”

“Are you sure you don’t work for McLaren? Because by the quality of your work I am starting to wonder”

One after the other all your colleagues fell under the axe of Niki’s commentary.

Nobody was spared, it was a butchery.

“So? What is this?”

You looked up at him as he towered over you, Satan himself would be less scary, and probably less attractive, to your eyes. His standing figure with rebel curls and his Ray-ban glasses in his left hand, the polo shirt under the fancy jacket, even his bad character gave him the edge so many men more conventionally attractive lack.

“I am working on the ignition” you said as he bent down crouching beside you as you showed him, his cologne filling your nostrils like the best smell your nose ever encountered.

“Okay, in what way?” He asked resting his elbows on his knees.

You gulped softly “Well, I am trying to experiment if I change this in here” and you pointed to a section in particular “maybe the car will have a better performance at the beginning of the race”

“Have you considered that it could over work the battery?”

“I did, but I wanted to see if I make here something like this” and you took a little tube showing how you lace it around the section “if I use this to push the cooler to work into this part as well, we might avoid over heating”

He listened touching his chin with the edge of his glasses thoughtfully.

“Give it a try”

He just said standing up.

Your colleagues looked at you shaking their heads as he turned around and everybody looked down to their tasks again, so then he left.

______________________________________________________________________ This wasn’t the first time, he wasn’t letting you do things he didn’t approve, but he always listened to you, he advised you, and the harshest thing he said was probably “I think you’re not looking at the bigger picture”

Nobody commented on it and beside some joke here and there, the little preference he had over you seemed to pass unnoticed mostly by him.

“You know, you really need a girlfriend” Clay, the other driver of the Ferrari alongside him, said during some tests.

Niki looked at him.

“Why? Do I look like one that has to fuck a woman to be fine?”

He laughed as Niki was always so overaggressive “No, but you treat everyone like bullshit beside the new girl, so you either can be an asshole only with men or your seduction technique needs a real check”

He frowned, eyebrows furrowing together as his lips parted in disbelief

“You nuts”

“Maybe, but I haven’t heard you complain about her as much as you complain about the rest of the world”

He shook his head “You are just letting you Italian genes getting your head stupid”

Clay laughed at him nodding knowingly “Sure, sure” he patted harshly on Niki’s back knowing how much he hated to be patted around like that as he moved to talk to one of the mechanics working on his car.

Niki crossed his arms resting against the wall of the garage, his eyes instinctively looking for your figure finding you to one of the working table writing down some notes over the changes applied while looking at the projects.

His eyes dropping on your ass like it was the first time he checked it, realising it wasn’t the first time he mentally noted it.

Well, he couldn’t really say you were unattractive, or not his type, or a good mechanic.

His thought process was suddenly interrupted as Clay himself approached you and you moved on side showing him the papers you were just writing on.

He nodded and said something to you, his hand casually resting on the small of your back making Niki’s jaw almost snap for how much he was gritting his teeth.

You shuffled on side avoiding the touch with a casual smile, but Clay kept talking to you and from afar Niki saw him say something and wave his pointed finger between himself and you. You shook your head and smiled turning down whatever he just offered with all the politeness you had, Niki pursued his lips slightly in amusement for his best girl’s behaviour.

Wait a second. Best girl?

He glared at Clay that smirked at him from afar, a big ‘I knew it’ smirk on his lips.

Niki bit the inside of his cheek not liking it.

He was with you like with everybody else, what the hell.

Niki ignored you all day, when you showed him something he himself requested to be shown, he shuffled away, when you handed him something he was looking for, he looked for it somewhere else, he just wasn’t meeting your eyes and hell and thunderstorm fell upon anyone that even tried to engage a talk with him on that day.

“I can’t with your boyfriend anymore, I swear” one of your colleagues muttered to you.

“He is not my boyfriend” 

He looked at you “Then he’d better be soon, maybe he’ll chill out”

“Are you even paid to stand and do nothing?” Niki shouted from afar and you two parted ways faster than two kids smuggling candies during class. ______________________________________________________________________

The next day was the judgment day for all the changes done on the car, your nerves were cracking as Niki arrived in his driving suit and your eyes immediately snapped a mental photo on his figure.

Did you ever went home wishing to have his company? Yes.

Did you ever wondered if he was so aggressive ever in the intimate times? Way too much.

Did you have any chance? Probably no.

You let out a big sigh as your colleagues reassured you “Hey, if it doesn’t work we either get rid of the rat or have some more time to work on it” he joked but you didn’t feel any better.

Niki looked up as he noticed your worried look, your lips nibbling down on your lips, your foot tapping rhythmically and nervously, the sudden instinct to lean his hand on that waist of yours, to rest his leg beside yours to make it stop that nerve wracking dance, to forbid your lips any more damage not caused by him.

All of that crowded his mind and he growled tiredly.

Stupid Clay, with his stupid theories.

He finished getting ready and put on his helmet settling down in his spot rolling his shoulders back, he needed to focus.

The head mechanic came over him repeating all the changes and just annoying the hell out of him, he is not always around the car only to check you out.

“When you're done telling me what I know, tell me something I don’t, I beg you”

The head mechanic did a big effort not to spit into his face and just left him waving his arms in the air.

You touched on your forehead nervously, if you failed it would show in the timings or maybe the car won’t even start.

You looked at him, seconds before he pulled down the dark lid of his helmet, his dark eyes so focused a shiver creeped over you.

You gasped as the signal was given and the car started.

Your fingers finding their way to your mouth as you nibbled your skin.

The car was fast, that was sure, you leaned beside the head mechanic that was taking the time. You breathed heavily, your mind going through all the changes you did, all the small settlements, the little details.

An eternal list that kept repeating itself.

Then the question as he was halfway through the leap, what if you disappointed him?

What if he asked you to be sent away?

Then you looked down to the chronometer, he was already almost two seconds earlier than usual.

A smile started to grow on you, the excitement filling your veins.

The sound of the engine roaring beautifully, you made it!

Then it happened, some smoke raised up to the sky, one of the wheels snapped, the breath died in your throat.

The car flexed on side but Niki controlled it and guided it against the sandy side of the track that slowed it down until it stopped.

“He was breaking his record” the head mechanic sighed “now he is just going to break our balls”

Niki moved out of the car throwing his helmet on the ground pushing off roughly anyone that tried to help him or check if he was hurt, some of the mechanics moving to the tow truck to recollect the car, Niki moving past you, his face tense and his posture of someone ready to snap some necks. You didn’t see him for the rest of the day, nobody talked about him, nobody mentioned anything as the storm will fall on all of the team the next day.

Now it was the head mechanic to face it for all of you.

______________________________________________________________________

That night you stayed over time, the other colleagues told you to just go home, to not let the thing sink of you, to look at it with fresh eyes and all those circumstantial phrases people gift you when they try to cheer you up. 

As always on the floor, you had now the chance to spread the pieces out, collect them into branches of types and use. You pulled closer your notebook writing down the ideas and things to remember to check, the image of Niki almost crashing gutting you even if you soon realised it wasn’t your change that set off the wheel, but it was part of the cause, the car was now too powerful and the stress on the suspensions was deadly.

You yawned lightly pulling a catalogue of replacements parts trying to find the best mix you could manage, but you surely had to make up something about it. You didn’t expect to solve the problem or to find the solution for everything with a creative twist, but to, at least, plan a sequence of possibilities to present to your chief the next day.

A hand slowly leaning a mug of steaming coffee beside you.

You looked up to find Niki there, another cup in his hand, those messy curls calling to be touched, his impeccable style always winning you over with a dark turtleneck and his tweed jacket.

“Found the problem?” He asked sharply as always.

He was surprised to see you there, he spent the rest of the afternoon after the malfunction with the head mechanic and some of the administrators as he needed a solution in time for the upcoming race.

So he decided he couldn’t trust their promises and reassurances, but take the matter in his own hand, for a change. But when he arrived he saw the lights still on and you there. He was almost tempted to leave, it wasn’t a good moment to screw things with one of his most talented mechanics.

But you, again, were so into it, you looked so beautiful with your working jumpsuit and the hair messed up nibbling on that pen like it was a matter of life and death.

He couldn’t just let you stay so beautiful and alone, who knows who could approach you.

You nodded “I think so” you said showing him the piece, he leaned his head on side studying it 

“May I?”

You nodded as he took off his blazer before joining you on the floor, he crossed his legs, your knees touching as he stole those papers from your hand.

“Signal to the administration this night shift, or they won’t ever pay you” he muttered without looking away from the papers.

You smirked “I know, but it is more a matter of principle than money, I didn’t like the heart attack you gave me today”

You were surprised by your own words, maybe it was because you really were over caffeinated or just realising how it was the first time you were alone and how you felt comfortable around him. No, not comfort, it was trust, you trusted him.

He looked up from the papers up at you, he didn’t replied to your comment straightaway, he let it sink in, he let your presence sink in.

A one-sides smirk appeared on his lips

“It is going to be a long night, then” Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief@thesunflowersutra Let me know if you want to get added <3

[joyfulhopelox]

"I've never cried over a broken dryer before"- "and you better not start now"

gif not mine cr. belongs to owner

Part 1 | Part 2

A/N: got nothing to say for myself really, just listened to a song, the idea hit me and i haven't written anything non science related in a decade so i gave it another go....that being said i realised i am awful at emotions lol. Side note i am from the UK so if some things seem off i apologise

Copyrights @joyfulhopelox

Pairing: Jungkook x reader (College!AU/ University!AU)

Warnings: ? mentions of skin? terrible fluff and flirting attempts

Word count: idk, it would not stop ~4k

A bop. A bop and some alcohol. That is all you needed after a long tiring week of studying for finals and cramming for your practical assessments. This week had been the last week of exam season and you were more than grateful that it had ended. You did not particularly care about how you’ve done on the assessments. That was not your present self’s problem, that was something for future you to worry about. Presently you just wanted to take a nap and head out with your girlfriends on a night out to just dance and drink all the stress away.

You weren’t a drinker, not by a long shot. You barely touched alcohol once or twice a month, and that happened mainly when you would have a get together with your friends. It was hard not to get sucked in when everything around you was so loud and chaotic it made you want to be part of the chaos not just an observer. You’ve done the whole ‘being sober whilst your friends got drunk’ and you swore to yourself it would never happen again. Funny how nights out looked disgusting and cliche when you were actually awake to witness them. From the group who ended up dancing on the tables, to the group who dispersed to hunt for one night stands, to the group who decided to pass out at the bar or in the toilets and then you, the sober one left to pick everyone up and send them back home safely and make sure than no one got into a fight. You sometimes wondered how the hell you got home alright when you ended up actually drinking on these nights out as none of your friends seemed willing to stay sober and watch over you. For once, you were not going to question your luck and just roll with it.

Before you settled for a nap though you knew you had to go downstairs to do your washing. Being a student during exam season meant you were surviving on microwavable food, lots of caffeine, sugar in all sorts of forms and that your tiny dorm room looked as if a hurricane has passed through it with dirty clothes all over the place and bedding that has been left unwashed for at least 2 weeks. You felt disgusting and unfortunately the neat freak in you kicked in, unsuppressed anymore by your pre-exam anxiety. With a sigh you started undoing your bedsheets and stashing them in a basket along with other bits and pieces of clothes. Making sure that you got your laundry detergent and your key card you started lugging the basket out of your room praying to the Gods that the lift was not broken.

Living on the 8th floor had its perks, but not when you were in a sleep deprived hurry. All you could do is check the numbers going down to the lower ground hoping that the lift would not stop at any other floor. But of course your luck would run out, on 3rd floor the lift slowed down and stopped, making you release an angry huff. ‘Of course it would’ you muttered to yourself as the doors opened only to reveal a tall men impatiently tapping his foot. Huffing he too got into the elevator making you aware of his stature. He may have not been as tall as some of the men you’ve seen but he was clearly working out as his muscles made him look way broader than his stature permitted. A gym rat, you rolled your eyes and tried to move the laundry bag and yourself into the corner, the space feeling too cramped for your liking. The dragging sound of the bag made the person turn around and give you a curious glance which you dismissed quickly. You weren’t interested in conversing with strangers on a normal basis let alone a gym rat. Nothing against them, you just had nothing in common and your tired brain did not want to make up a polite small talk.

‘Lower ground?’ the person asked you, surprisingly the voice was soft and clear, something you had not expected of him. It made you glance at him, ‘yeah’ you nodded after composing yourself. The person nodded making their long bangs fall into their eyes which prompted the next two surprises for you; in an attempt to settle his bangs out of his face he not only revealed a muscular defined arm which you’d have to admit was kind of attractive- you’d have to be blind not to notice, but also an array of random tattoos all over his arm and hand. The other surprise hit you a moment later after you realised you’ve been staring at him for a second too long and you sniffed and turned your face away. The smell of alcohol was coming off of him strongly as if he’s been drinking for a few days straight and his pores exuded it. It took you all you had to not cough. Frat boy, gym rat- this guy was ticking all the ‘no no’ boxes and so regardless of how good looking he was he did not deserve second thoughts.

Your prayers being answered, you reached lower ground quicker than expected and you prepared yourself to rush out of the lift. However, the clothes basket was heavier than you’d thought so instead of a swift exit like you’ve planned, you closely resembled Santa dragging his toy sack.

‘Would you like some help with that?’ the guy who’d turned around and observed you amusedly as you struggled extended a hand in your direction. You huffed and dropped the basket on the floor and couldn’t help but notice the basket he held in one hand and how the effort made his muscles and veiny arms that much more noticeable. Hot.

‘’S all good thanks’ however, you were not going to accept his help. You just wanted to get these damn clothes in the wash so you could go and nap away the remainder of your post exam stress. The guy held your gaze for a second too long before he raised an eyebrow and looked unconvincingly at your basket and your face, which was red by now you’d presume. Then shrugging he carried on walking towards the laundry room getting further and further out of your view, and you could have sworn there was an extra spring in his step. That fucker.

After monumental efforts you managed to drag everything to the laundry room only to notice that it had been left propped open by an empty bottle. Entering with difficulty you made your way to the closest washer available and dropped the laundry basket on the floor with a relieved sigh. Bending down to start putting your clothes in, you could definitely hear a snicker behind you. Whas that….? Of course it was, you were the only two souls in there. Everyone else was probably either enjoying some much needed sleep or partying the evening away already. Deciding to ignore him you continued to pile your clothes into the machine and soon enough you got distracted so much so that you did not realise you had started humming.

‘Nice voice you got there, but do both of us a favour, leave it for when you’re on your own will you?’ another snicker from behind. Flustered you whipped around, ‘what?’ his gaze on you held a smouldering effect making you feel as if you were pinned down by just its sheer force. His dark eyes, whilst amused, were also narrowed on your form as if commanding you to listen to what he was saying. Your breath hitched and as much as you’d tried to shrug off the feeling and the temptation to not listen to him and turn around, you found yourself unable to. Trying to hold his gaze your eyes wavered for a split second when the tip of his tongue peeked out from between his lips to wet the lower one. A gesture so fleeting, done as if by habit, but paired with the intense gaze it had your throat constrict and your instincts had been to follow his moves, your own tongue coming out to lick your own suddenly dry lips.

Had you intended to do this to toy with him? No. Has it worked? Judging by the way his eyes travelled slowly and purposefully down your face towards your lips, you could swear it has. Refusing to give him more vulnerability than that you turned around with tremendous efforts and continued pilling clothes into the washer completely missing the way he stared at your ass that was now on display. Biting his lip he gave you another once over before returning to his own washing.

You couldn’t help to glance his way every time you would turn around to pick up more clothes out of the basket. He was sporting a concentrated face, his lower lip caught between his teeth, his broad shoulders and the way his arm muscles were defined by the effort were making you breathless. However, what made your head spin and your heart to skip too many beats for it to be healthy was what happened next. You blame your bad luck - or good luck- for glancing at him only to catch him grab his shirt and give it a tentative sniff and a shrug. So he knew he reeked, but your snicker turned into a hiccup as soon as he had grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

Normally a situation like this wouldn’t phase you, you have seen plenty of men naked. But this one, this one was a special one. His bunny like features, defined nose bridge, jawline and floppy but rugged hair were a complete contrast to his defined jawline and...oh lord….were those six or eight abs??

‘What in the name of abs are you doing?’ sputtering you turned to fully face him. What a mistake. He did the same so now you had a full frontal view, first row, VIP seat to his naked upper body. That was definitely a six abs package. Shrugging, which by lord made everything tense up in ways you did not need to see, he threw the longsleeve into the wash and slammed it shut. All that did not take more than 5 seconds but to you, it seemed like a slowed down eternity in which your eyes got a good view of a muscular anatomy.

‘What, it’s dirty and i’m doing my washing?’ he stated as if it was plain as day and absolutely normal to get naked in the laundry room.’In the name of abs? Should i be calling you a peeping Tom?’ A slow forming smirk that made him look dangerously mischievous made its way onto his face.

‘Pffft, what? I said in the name of gods, what are you on about? Why would I be looking at you, whilst you think it’s perfectly fine to strip in a public place??’ he laughed at your clear distress but chose to not to mention your choice of words. ‘Hardly public is it? There’s just you and i in here’ he rebutted whilst turning around to scan his laundry card onto the machine and pressed start. You scoffed indignantly, ‘what am i chopped liver? I’m not goddamn blind’ you mumbled, not for his ears but instead chose to say out loud, ‘what about the poor souls who will see you in the lift back up? Is that not a public place?’

Unbeknownst to you he had clearly heard your previous statement, his smirk once again widening, so you had actually been looking. Good. Clearing his throat he put on as much of a serious face as he could ‘I think it’s unfair to call them poor, this is not cheap accommodation, if they live here it is clear that they are anything but poor’ he knew what you’d meant by poor, but just the annoyed tick in your eyebrow that appeared at his statement was worth it. Choosing to stay silent instead of taking the bait, you returned to your laundry. Only to curse out loud- you had finished it and upon scouring your belongings haphazardly you realised your card was missing. Vaguely remembering you had only taken your room card you groaned, this was not how you’d intended to spend your afternoon before the party.

Without a second’s notice, a tattooed hand with a card appeared before your eyes and the washing machine burst to life. Indignantly you whipped your head around to look at the owner of said hand, ‘what are you doing?’ only to come face to face with the end of a defined collarbone and jawline. And by all that is saintfully just, the line of his throat was just as attractive as the whole of the man. Being this close to him rendered you absolutely useless, jumbled thoughts ranging from ‘i need to pay him back’ to ‘what is he even doing’ to settle in the end to a single thought which you also voiced out loud without even thinking. ‘Your moles are pretty’. You had managed to get past the expanse of his neck to the outline of his lower lip when you noticed his mole, and to your defense- it was cute, but with the whole package, cute is the last word you had in mind. More like- it added a completeness that you would not think he needed but there it was.

He swallowed thickly, enjoying for a second too long the glazed look you had on your face as you said that. ‘And you have nice eyes’ he retaliates even though this is the first time he’s had a closeup look at them. Bright and sparkly, unknown to the both of you, a mirror of each other’s. Sparkly with a promise of something. Something which would have to wait for….if you had your way, forever, if he had his way- a second. You finally willed your legs to step aside and away from the unclothed man.

‘Uh-thanks’ you never stutter, but something about the heavy and thick air around makes it hard to take controlled breaths. ‘For the washing i mean’ you correct yourself. You will never admit to him out loud that him complimenting your eyes made your heart stumble and your brain freeze. You turned around to escape the situation, completely missing the amused expression on the man’s face. ‘You are welcome’ he extends his hand out walking to your side not missing the way you try to put some distance in between the two of you.

‘I’m Jungkook’ he smiles, a complete 180 from his appearance, his smile was warm and genuine, the type of smile that is reflected not only in his eyes but his whole face. His nose scrunches up too cutely, you think to yourself. He somehow resembles a bunny? Mustering up all the courage and bravery your heart still had, you grasp his hand. Hm, soft, odd for a gym head. You knew what he was asking for, but you would not give it to him. As cute as he is, you still tried to tell yourself you were unimpressed. ‘And i’m a poor soul who lives in this block of flats’ you mutter ‘i will pay you back for the washing’.

As soon as you reached your tiny cramped room and settled down for that nap you’ve been craving, you could not help but replay the last words he said to you, sounding way too smug for his own good. ‘Is that you telling me to put a shirt on for your sake?’

[simply-brightly-zee]

Folks let me talk about Crowley and sunglasses, because I have a lot of emotions about when he wears them and when he doesn’t, and Hiding versus Being Seen.

We’re introduced to the concept of Crowley wearing glasses even before we’re introduced to Crowley, by Hastur: “If you ask me he’s been up here too long. Gone native. Enjoying himself too much. Wearing sunglasses even when he doesn’t need them.”

Honestly Crowley’s whole introduction is a fantastic; we learn so much about his character in a tiny amount of time. The fact that he’s late, the Queen playing as the Bentley approaches, the “Hi, guys” in response to Hastur and Ligur’s “Hail Satan”. I like this intro much better than the one originally scripted with the rats at the phone company, but I digress.

Crowley wears sunglasses when he doesn’t need them. Specifically, he still wears them around the demons, and when he’s in hell.

You know where Crowley doesn’t wear glasses? At home.

We never once see him wearing glasses in his flat, except for when he knows Hastur and Ligur are coming. That’s an emotional kick to the gut for me. Here’s one of the only places Crowley’s comfortable enough to be sans glasses, and when he knows it’s going to be invaded he prepares not just physically with the holy water, but by putting up that emotional barrier in a place where he wasn’t supposed to need it.

An argument could be made that Crowley actually never needs glasses. We’re shown that it’s well within the angels’ and demons’ powers to pass unnoticed by humans. Crowley and Aziraphale waltz out of the manor in the middle of a police raid, and going unnoticed by the police takes so little effort that they can keep up a conversation while they stroll through. Even an unimaginative demon like Hastur apparently doesn’t have trouble with the humans losing it over his demonic eyes. The humans in the scene at Megiddo are acting like “this guy is a little weird” and not “holy shit his entire eyeballs are black jelly”

That means that Crowley’s glasses are a choice, just like Aziraphale’s softness. Sure, he could arrange matters so that nobody ever noticed his eyes, but he doesn’t want to. Crowley wants acceptance, and he wants to belong, and he’s never, ever had that. He didn’t fit in before the Fall in Heaven, he doesn’t fit in with the demons in Hell. With the glasses, and with the Bentley and his plants and with the barely-bad-enough-to-be-evil nuisance temptations, he’s choosing Earth. This is where he wants to fit in, perhaps not with the humans, but amongst them.

Even after Crowley is at his absolute lowest, when he thinks Aziraphale’s dead and he’s on his way to drink until the world ends, he takes the time to put a new pair on when the old ones are damaged. He needs that emotional crutch right now, even with everything about to turn into a pile of puddling goo he’s not ready for the world to see his eyes.

Which is why I swore out loud when Hastur forcibly takes them off.

It’s about the worst thing that Hastur could have done. Rather than leading with a physical threat, his first act is to strip away Crowley’s emotional defences. It’s a great writing choice because god it made me hate Hastur, even more than all the physical violence we see him do.

It’s also the moment that Crowley really truly gets his shit together, and focuses all of his considerable imagination on getting to Tadfield and Aziraphale to help save the world. He’s wielding the terrifyingly unimaginable power of someone who’s hit rock bottom and realised it literally could not get any worse than this. He doesn’t put another pair of glasses on after discorporating Hastur, and he spends the majority of the airbase sequence without them.

He puts them back on again, I think, at the moment that he really lets himself hope. When he thinks ‘shit, there may be a real chance that we get through this to a future that I don’t want to lose’.

The vulnerability is back, and he needs Adam to trust him. In Crowley’s mind being accepted by a human means he needs to have his eyes hidden. Someone give the demon a hug, please.

Interestingly, there’s only one time in the whole series that we see Crowley willingly choose to take his glasses off around another person. Only one person he’ll take down that barrier for, and even then he’s drunk before he does it.

Dear God/Satan/Someone that makes my heart ache. Crowley’s chosen Earth, but he’s also chosen Aziraphale. He’s been looking for somewhere to belong his entire existence, and it’s with the angel that he finally feels it.

When the dust settles and the world is saved and they finally have space to be themselves unguarded, I like to imagine Crowley takes off the glasses when it’s just the two of them; the idea of being known doesn’t scare him quite so much anymore.  

[bootyyy-shaker9000]

Give Me A Chance

D.Danny x G-N! Reader [Oneshot]

Relationship: Pining - Romantic

Warnings: Slight Cursing, A Suggestive Joke, Fluff.

"Here ya' go, Big Mama!" Heaving five large worn-sacks of what you expected to contain Yokai goods, the three partners-in-crime grinned triumphantly. "Managed to loot them flashy broads from a few blocks down, slipped in and out no problem."

Big Mama's features gleamed in awe as she watched the rugged men stroll through her lobby, nearing towards her with her prize. "Oh, splendid! Well, I'm sure you are well aware of sorting your share."

From your positioning nearby Big Mama's grand table, you inspected them as they lugged three of the five bags of plunder onto a convenient marble surface.

Mickey bobbed his head in affirmation. "Sixty per cent on your end, Boss. Just like we promised ya'!"

"Formidable work, boys. I once again thank you for your service." The woman's gaze wandered, examining the stash as she wavered her hand over it all. "Now, I'll just have my assistant here take care of this while you fellas make yourself acquainted."

The mention of your given role had peaked your attention, giving the Mud Dogs a once over before making your way to the table. Big Mama placed a delicate hand on your shoulder, her mouth nearing towards your ear whispering: "Keep a close eye on them for me. Don't want their grubby fingers finding themselves somewhere they shouldn't."

Your eyes trailed up to Loathsome stretching out on a nearby settee with Malicious gawking at the fine art that scattered across the lobby's walls. While Dastardly - the only Mud Dog that had "conversed" with you on multiple occasions - perched his elbows on the tabletop's edge with body facing towards you, awaiting your arrival.

Your over-watch would basically be unnecessary when you already have the rat's eyes watching your every move. Not that you minded his attention (to an extent), you just had no idea what enjoyment he was getting out of it.

"Will do, Chief."

With that, Big Mama made her way out of the area with a rhythmic sway of her hips. While in turn, you stalked over to the pile of moolah you were set to examine, having to position yourself beside the dapper rat; who seemed all too eager to stay close.

"So uh," Dastardly adjusted his footing, tilting his head to get a better look at you. "How's work been holding up for ya' recently?"

You halted your inspection to take a subtle glance around, Danny taking note of it on the spot. "The coast is clear, doll, don't worry 'bout it."

He nodded reassuringly with his brow quirked before you dragged out a long inflated sigh. You flipped your back to the table, the small of your back resting on the table's edge as you mirrored the rat's laid-back stance.

"It freaking blows. Literally the most boring job known to pretty much anyone." You combed your fingers through the roots of your hair, giving your scalp a small rub in the process. "It's shocking how exhausting it is to do absolutely nothing, seriously. I'd rather be on my feet actually doing something, you know, like you guys. Being an errand boy or whatever."

"Errand boys?" An offended scoff was sent to you in return, the sound already making the corners of your lips turn up. "I'll have you know it takes a lotta skill and precision ta' do what we do half the time."

"Yeah and the other half you just spend it aimlessly goofing around."

"Meh, whatcha gonna do?"

You chuckled before lazily hoisting yourself up onto the counter, careful not to get an ass full of coins by avoiding the bags of loot. "Hey, I wasn't exactly saying it was a bad thing. It's gotta be fun at least."

With your body slumped, you held your position with your palms pressed to the marble surface. Peeking out from your downcast gaze, you caught a glimpse of Dastardly inching himself closer to your side. The left side of his hip rested on the slab as he dug his hands deep into his pockets, eyeing your form intently.

"Y'know... We could have some fun, just you and me."

Your head struck up in an instant. "Woah there, Casanova. Try to keep it in your pants, you're supposed to be a professional."

"Whaddya m-" His brows drew together in confusing before his cheeks tinted as the realisation dawned on him. "Oh! Oh, shi- no! Jeez, toots, I just meant 'fun' as in taking you outta' dinner or catch a show or somethin'."

A brazen grin made its way to his lips, his nostrils slightly flaring. "Unless that other offer is on the table then-"

"-It isn't."

"Well," Faltering only for a moment, his thin lips stretched back into a small smile but it didn't quite reach his dark eyes, "how about that date then?"

You just... Didn't understand.

"What makes you so interested in going out with me?" Your brow raised in question, tapping your index finger anxiously on the cold marble. "We've barely even talked."

Bashful, Dastardly brought a clammy hand up to rub the back of his neck, giving his tendons a slight message. "Heh, that’s kinda the reason why, toots. I can't figure you out."

The man let out a sigh before slumping back onto the edge of the table, crossing one ankle over the other as he shifted his weight.

"Usually, I can look at someone and read em on the spot, but you don't put too much of yourself out there. Every time I'm here you give me feelings I ain't totally sure on how to handle, but I sorta like it. I always wanna hang out with you and do stupid shit without the boys taggin' along, it doesn't even matter what we do!"

You winced as he got excitable the more he went on. "Danny..."

"Just hear me out, please." He set his hands out in front of him to figuratively set you on pause. "I wanna get to know ya, and a part of me thinks you wanna get to know me too. So, if you're willin', lemme take you out so we can get to know each other. Outside of all this."

Of course you wanted to get to know him. He was this mysterious guy in a striped suit that would waltz in and out of your workplace every week and actually take the time to notice you around. You couldn't help the curiosity that welled deep in your belly every time you caught him eyeing you from across the room.

You just couldn't wrap your head around the fact that he actually wanted to know who you were. Not just one of Big Mama's collaborators. Not just the associate that idled around wherever your boss lurked. Just you. You couldn't help but be fond of the man for wanting to do so.

Though you were still cautious of his intentions...

Huffing lightly, you replied. "So there are these guys that have been pestering Big Mama, right? They've been digging at her to pay up whatever expenditure she owed them, and obviously, she did. Holding up her end of the bargain as always."

"And this has somethin' to do with the date thing because...?"

"Lemme finish. But as you also know, that woman isn't one for letting someone give her such a hard time without 'semi-retaliating'..."

"I'm reckoning that's where the boys and I come in." The rat roughly adjusted the collar of his shirt, loosening the top button. "So doing this job is the only way I'm going to have a chance with you, huh?"

You couldn't help the nip of guilt that caught you. "See it as more of a test, Romeo."

Hopping off of the counter with ease, you manoeuvred yourself in front of the man, setting your hands on his lapels. You fixed his blazer with a slight pull while straightening it out in the process.

"Do this particularly important job, then I'll consider..." Your eyes reached up to meet Danny's, observing his pink-tinted features for a brief moment. "The date thing. Deal?"

Despite feeling grateful for the offer, he sounded slightly defeated. "Consider?"

Tugging gently on his lapels, you brought your mouth up to his ear, keeping your voice hushed. "It's a definite yes if you get your ass back here quick enough."

His ear flicked back as his dumbstruck eyes stared at you in what seemed to be a mixture of disbelief and excitement. Coughing out to compose himself, he turned away from your form to face the two Yokai that loitered across the room.

"Aye, boys! D'ya hear that? We got a job to do, move yer hides!" Danny ushered them to the exit with a vigorous waft of his arms, ignoring any annoyed protests.

Before leaving the building himself, the suited man pivoted on one heel to bid you a due, with a smug tip of his hat. "See you soon, sunshine."

In return, you gave a simple short wave of your hand goodbye. Though you couldn't help but reflect the flashy grin that he held onto your own features.

The realisation only just settling in, you sprung up to halt him from leaving the lobby. "Wait, Danny! I haven't even told you the job yet!"

Almost cartoonish, the Yokai poked his head back through the door way. "But I just- i just made a big deal with the leaving thing! And no- oh y'know what, I'll be back tomorrow!"

"Okay!" A hearty laugh escaped your lips as you watched him leave for the second time, leaving you desolate.

Maybe he's worth that chance.

[hallospaceboyy]

Please do one where Zelda accidentally kills her lovers familiar and they fight because of it similar to her fighting with Sabrina. Later on they make up though. Highly appreciative of your work

Ophidiophobia Part 2

AN: I decided to do this as a part 2 to Ophidiophobia, but you don't really need to read the first part, just need to know that Zelda was terrified of Noodle cause he was a snake so reader convinces him to change and he takes the form of a rat. I feel this is kinda meh but hope u enjoy anyway x

Part 1

You'd only been gone for an hour, had popped into Greendale to pick up some groceries for Hilda. When you arrive back at the mortuary, shutting the door behind you, you can hear urgent but hushed voices from the kitchen, and wander in with the paper bag tucked under your arm.

When you enter, Zelda blanches and steps to one side, pressing her back against the counter, her eyes wide. Hilda grimaces as she looks between the two of you and starts to sidle past you to leave the room.

“Perhaps I best leave you two alone for this.”

“Hilda, stay. I need you to tell her it was an accident.” Zelda snaps, mouth set in a grim line.

“What was an accident?” You reach out to place the groceries on the table, but freeze when Zelda steps to the side, revealing what she had been hiding behind her back. The bag slips from your grasp, and tears are filling your eyes, hands trembling.

Noodle lies on the counter, lifeless, body limp, and the head and twisted arms of a goblin are protruding from his body, mouth open in a grimace, displaying sharp teeth. You release a pained sob and rush to him, picking up his small form and cradling him to your chest, stroking the soft fur of his head.

Zelda places a hand on your shoulder, and you stiffen, watery eyes snapping up to hers. Her own green eyes are filled with tears, a look of guilt on her pale features.

“How did this happen?”

“I-It was an accident. I didn’t see him. I’m so sorry, Y/N.” Her bottom lip trembles and you glare at her despite the tears running down your cheeks.

“I asked how, Zelda!” You shout, and Zelda flinches, eyes closing for a moment to compose herself.

“I stepped on him. I was making tea and he was o-on the floor, and I stepped back.”

You glance down to the pointed heels on her feet, face contorting as you imagine the stiletto heel impaling his small body.

“You never did like him.” You murmur, turning away from her and collapsing down into one of the rickety wooden chairs, looking down at Noodle's face, his long whiskers, little pink nose.

“That's not fair. Of course I liked him. We just... had a rocky start.”

“It was an accident, lamb. Zelda would never do this on purpose. She knew what he meant to you.”

“I loved him so much.” You place him on the table with shaking hands, unable to look at him anymore. You stand from the chair so abruptly it falls back and clatters to the floor, and both of the women start.

“You were jealous. Your own familiar is dead, you knew Noodle wasn’t fond of you, so you thought you'd get rid of him.” You round on Zelda, fists clenched, voice shaking with fury, and Zelda's mouth gapes, eyes wide, and you can see the hurt and anger in her eyes, can see the raging storm there.

“How dare you! How dare you even think that I would murder your familiar in cold blood!”

“Well, that's what you are isn't it Zelds? Cold.”

Zelda's mouth snaps shut, lost for words. Tears spill from her eyes now and she crosses her arms over her chest, stepping away from you and looking to the ground. Her bottom lip trembles again, but you offer her no comfort, simply turn away and push past Hilda to storm from the room, slamming the bedroom door behind you and collapsing on the bed, your body wracked with sobs.

*

Hours later, you’re all cried out, eyes puffy and sore, cheeks splotched bright red, and you stumble from the bed, intent on going to find Zelda. You've cooled down now, and you realise how cruel you were. You're still grieving for your precious familiar, he was your best friend, but you feel sick at the thought that you may lose Zelda now too. You’re not sure you'd forgive you for what you had said to her in your anger, and Zelda is exceedingly good at holding grudges. The shoes adorning the wall outside your shared bedroom with her is proof of that.

It's late, and most of the house is dark, everyone having gone to bed. You'd skipped dinner, ignored Hilda's knocks, and you step over the tray she had left outside the door. When you get downstairs, there's a fire burning in the parlour, and Zelda sits in her armchair in the dark room, tumbler of amber liquid clutched in her hand. She doesn’t even glance at you as you enter the room, but you can see she has been crying. Her makeup is smudged, and you can see her flushed cheeks despite the fire being the only source of light. You tentatively sit in the armchair across from her, wringing your hands nervously.

“I shouldn’t have said those things.” You murmur, voice small and childlike, and she meets your eyes now, and you expect them to be ice cold, angry, but she only looks hurt, so very sad.

“No, you shouldn't have.” There’s no bite to her voice, and that almost makes it worse. You want her to be angry with you, shout if she has to.

“I know you would never have hurt him on purpose, Zelds. I was... I don’t know. Grieving. Shocked.”

“I know.” She whispers, and she sighs, places her empty glass on the table. “Come here, darling.” She holds her arms out, and tears sting at your eyes as you jump to your feet and surge into her arms, dropping into her lap. She rocks you and strokes your hair as you cry, shushing you soothingly. You had thought you’d be all cried out, but the tears come in fresh waves, and you tremble against her, nuzzling into her neck.

“I'm so sorry, Zelds.” Your voice is more of a wail, thick with tears, and she squeezes you tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I'm sorry too. I was more intent on defending myself than thinking of how you must have been feeling. Hilda and I have agreed to find a way to bring him back. That's what I’ve been doing down here.” She nods to the pile of books on the table in front of her that you hadn't noticed before.

“I said awful things to you, and you still wanted to help me?”

“Of course. You're my girl and you're hurting. Noodle was a wonderful familiar, cared for you as much as I do. Every witch deserves a familiar such as him.”

You sniffle and pull away to look up at her, cupping her cheek and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. She smiles against you, stroking your back.

“You're not cold Zelds. You're warm. You keep me warm.” You rest your forehead on hers, closing your eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too, my darling. Now let's get to bed. I’ll continue my research tomorrow.”

[bowieandqueen11]

You Lied / Losers’ Club Imagine

Request: Omg girl im totally obsessed by your writing! Could i please request an IT (2019) where the reader was a loser but also died like stan, and came back somehow like stan did in his spider part, just not a spider? 💕 

I just saw It 2 again, and now I’m back to crying XD

Warning! Swearing!

Mike slammed on the door, his palm trying to crack the splintered wood with every desperate thump and sloppy hit, but Richie couldn’t hear it.

Eddie couldn’t hear it.

Hell, even Bill couldn’t hear it.

All they could see was this fridge. This grotty little refrigerator that hummed as loud as a small truck warming on a wintry morning that they swore they could see it vibrate. The stickiness, the tangy yellow colour, the little bits of black mould that begin to sprout out of the door like little reaching tendrils was enough to make Eddie gag. He had had enough; this wasn’t happening, whatever was in there, he wasn’t doing it.

‘Guys, we have to go. If Pennywise- if he comes out, I can’t do it. Not again.’

‘No....not Pennywise.... much worse...’

Richie slides his torch over the rusting metal, his eyebrows rising in surprise as his brain racks to try and place that voice he knew in his heart, not even realising his fingers had begun to shake lightly against the black metal.

‘All you’re.... regrets...all your lies....your failures...’

 Given the state of the outside, Bill prepared to hold his breath as he slowly inched forward to open it, creaking along the tilting floorboards with each step.

‘I-I k-know that voice. I know you. I know you-’

There would no doubt be nothing but disgust when Bill swung open the door, the old seals giving up the door with ease. Yet there was something else too. A small brown parcel, sitting on top of a bubbling pile of goo that splattered against the inside like a rupturing volcano, the spit and boil making Eddie gag into his elbow as he realises it’s the same liquid the leper had thrown up onto his face just a few hours earlier. To his surprise, he let in a gasp of the putrid air; it was every bit as bad as he had expected, but still he leaned in for the parcel, the label half torn away.

‘Belonging to Y/N- For use of the Losers only.’

Bill’s fingers shake as he slowly unwraps the sticky tape from the corners of the brown, crinkly paper. A muscle twitched involuntarily at the corner of his right eye, his mouth forming a rigid grimace as it crumples open in his hand. He clenches his fists tightly, until his nails dig into the palm of his hand, but he barely notices. The only thing he is really aware of is the sound of his heart throbbing against the cage of his chest. It's not until Richie points it out, that he realises his lip is bleeding.

‘Bill-Bill what is it?’

‘It’s her shoe-it’s her f-fucking shoe.’

‘He’s fucking with us, he’s fucking with us guys!’, Eddie shouts, his back slamming against the wall with a sick thud as he covers his eyes with his trembling fingers.

‘I want to go home, I can’t do this.’

‘Neither could I, and look where I ended up.’

The house had seemed to become aware of itself, of the history that echoed within the walls, the bodies that lay underneath its structure like a plague, or a deadly moss. Somewhere within, the walls had become one with the rats who crawled and the sticky spider webs.

As Bill slowly turned around slowly, not wanting to believe the warm voice that filled the cold air behind Eddie’s raven curls. The house shivered again, but in a different way. This time there was a small fragment of warmth, a tiny brave smile in the walls, a small spark of hope.

As Richie swung his torch over your face, his mouth blubbering open and shut as he watched Eddie slowly, slowly, as if his life depended on it, inch away from you with his hands on the wall with wide eyes, no one could look away from you. There was a tense moment of silence, your eyes trained on some invisible spectre, your heavy eyelids a fraction too slow to blink, your irises too stationary. It was as if your brain was suffering a massive short circuit and was struggling to compute. 

Bill slowly moved into your line of sight, your head tilting upward to his face, his eyes sliding into focus, but not really noticing the tears that brimmed at their crinkles. He raises his hands, not building the courage to touch your shoulder as Richie runs behind you to Eddie, the sick crunches of your bones as you shift your skeleton forward making them all grimace.

‘You...you left me...’

‘W-we’re here, y/n, we’re h-here now and w-we’re not leaving, w-w-we promise.’

‘Dude’, Eddie mumbles, his breathe starting to catch in his throat as he wraps his fingers around his neck, choking on his own air as he stutters out, ‘where’s her leg? Where’s her fucking leg?’

The way your eyes squint at Big Bill when you glared at him reminded him of a pit viper's slit-like pupils. He gulped nervously. A burning animosity was developing in your orbs, and he could tell the person you once were, his best friend, the person he cried on when Georgie died was gone. He’d done it. He’d killed you as well.

‘I would still be alive, if it weren’t for you.’

The grief surged with every expelled breath as Bill stumbled back, tears beginning to spill from his helpless eyes.

‘Guys..’, Richie starts, ‘I don’t know what the fuck that is, but it’s not y/n. We need to get the absolute fuck out of here.’

‘At least you came back for me, huh Bill? Because it was your fault I died. Or was it big liar liar pants on fire Trashmouth Tozier? Or scaredy cat Kaspbrak who left me to rot with the weeds. You’re not leaving. Not this time. You’re going to stay, and rot with me, just like it should have been.’

Suddenly raising the knife hidden in your knobbly knuckles up high, twisting it in the stray daylight as if it could slice up the sun-rays, your expression was exaggerated by the dark shadows around your eyes, your face split into a grin that arced in a sickly way, never making it to her almost sunken eyes. Bill could barely hear the helpless scream that escaped from Eddie’s lips as he started banging against the door, the helpless ‘holy fuck’ that tumbled from the Trashmouth’s mouth as you and Bill tumbled to the floor, his knees hitting harshly against his stomach as you landed on his lap, the knife skidding away from your grasp.

Your feet kick against his, the floorboards creaking underneath your doubled weight as the tears streak dirty down his cheeks.

‘P-please y/n, please, it’s me.’

He nearly doesn’t notice the small hindrance in your fingers as they wrap around his throat.

‘B-bill? Everything seems so far away Bill. Everything seems so numb.’

Tears rolled down, wetting every part of your cheek before splattering like blood onto his forehead, his fingers digging into and rubbing against yours as he stares into your eyes with a pleading passion.

But all you felt was your own suffocating. In the pain of abandonment you almost forgot how to feel, forgot your life, forgot who you were before Pennywise took you. But this love, this bond, it could never be forgotten.

Before you can speak again however, you feel an unbearable throbbing in the back of your head, tilting down into Bill’s chest as he grips at your shoulders, falling still into his arms as he looks up, dazed and confused, at a shaking Richie, the knife in his hand a second ago now planted firmly in the back of your head.

[sserpente]

A/N: Okay, I know, I know I said there would only be Christmas Imagines before Christmas but I just couldn’t help myself. I’m still not over that movie and I’ve been getting so inspired, so… here you go!

Words: 1332 Warnings: SPOILERS FOR THE LAST JEDI

Pain. Stinging and scourging pain was all you felt when you lifted another metal pipe to store it away, the strength in your left arm dropping as fast as the object you had lifted. A loud clatter echoed through the room and drowned your antagonised hissing as you grunted at the agony tormenting your mangled body.

This was the third time this week you almost broke your bones while attempting to do the work your engineer colleagues were supposed to get done. You were all but weak for heaven’s sake—but those pipes weighed more than eighty pounds each. Lifting them high up over your head was almost impossible and yet, you tried, again and again, fearing that if you refused, your generous colleagues would get you suspended.

You needed this job as much as you needed that cot you had been given upon your arrival on the Finalizer. Against all reason, it was the perfect place to hide from the First Order—doing dirty work for them while they kept searching the cosmos for force-sensitive individuals that would train under Kylo Ren himself, your new Supreme Leader.

You didn’t know the details and you didn’t want to. It was bad enough you were one of those individuals, not wanting to take sides or train under anyone for the sake of ruling the galaxy. The power it gave you, you enjoyed. At night, when everyone else was asleep, you would secretly practice levitating objects, revelling in the feeling of what you liked to call magic. Outside of your quarters—a tiny room resembling a prison cell rather than an actual home—you forbad yourself to use the Force; not if you wanted to remain undiscovered and safe. Of course, training under Kylo Ren wouldn’t be the worst—quite on the contrary. You had always admired his strength, even if the temper tantrums he threw once in a while scared you shitless. Still… he was intimidating. His sheer presence was intimidating.

Closing your eyes for a brief moment, you took a deep breath and lifted the pipe again. You didn’t even manage to move it off the ground this time. Instead, the same pain like before, more prominent and dizzying this time, shot through your body like hot needles.

Fine. You definitely needed to pay the infirmary a visit after this but first… you had to get this done or your colleagues would rat you out by talking to Hux. Another man who intimidated you, scared you even. Perhaps this wasn’t the right place for you after all.

Staring at the pipe as if it were some nasty insect, you pondered. No one would see… you were alone in here. Just… this once? Quickly? You nodded to yourself, biting your lower lip before taking a last, thorough look around you and then, stretching out your arm towards the pipe on the ground.

You concentrated, focusing on doing the exact same thing you kept doing to the metal drawer in your room—you levitated it and then, simply brought it up to where it belonged.

There. All done.

Kylo Ren stopped dead in his tracks when he sensed it. The Force, used by… someone other than him. He clenched his gloved fists, his head tilting ever so slightly as he came to a stop next to an open storage room, watching your weak form standing confidently before a pile of metal pipes and… hovering one of them high up in the air with nothing but your mind.

“You,” he started, the confusion in his voice clearly audible. He had been relinquishing wearing his helmet lately, for whatever reason. Without the voice modulator, it sounded smooth, dark… intriguing.

The first time you had seen his face was while fixing a gas pipe. You had almost broken it beyond repair when he walked by, his freckled face framed by dark hair, complimenting a pair of brown eyes and full lips. Heavens…

Spinning around, alarmed and anxious, you were met with his scrutinising, almost taunting and reproachful gaze. His broad form, covered in black clothes and a cloak, took up most of the space in the threshold, blocking your only exit and escape.

“C-commander, I-I… I-I w-was just… uh…” What had he seen? How much had he seen?

“I believe it is Supreme Leader now.” He corrected you sternly, his dark eyes still locked with yours. You swallowed thickly, nodding when you realised your mistake.

“Y-yes, of course, I’m-I’m sorry. Supreme Leader. I was just, um…”

“You are using the Force.”

“No!” You replied a little too quickly. “I wasn’t! How would I? I mean…”

“You are force-sensitive.” He repeated, stepping closer to you. His right arm outstretched, his mind invaded yours, sending a pulling pain through your skull. You grunted, forcing your eyes shut.

That’s it. You were done for. He knew. He’d know everything now.

When he retreated, leaving you weak and spent, you stumbled, propping yourself on the pile of metal pipes. Sweat was covering your forehead and glistening in the dim light of the storage room.

“You are quite clever, aren’t you? Hiding right under my nose.”

“I-I m-meant no disrespect, Com-Supreme Leader.”

Kylo frowned. “Then what else did you mean by pretending to be a mere engineer, using the Force behind my back instead of approaching me, telling me about your abilities?” He asked, unbelieving and almost bored by your pathetic excuses.

“I-I… I am an engineer, I… self-preservation?” You might as well take that custom-made lightsaber from his belt and stab yourself. Self-preservation. Did you want him to kill you right on the spot?!

“Please, I’m just… I’m really weak, I can hardly do anything. I couldn’t be what you want me to be, I…” But there was only one other option. If he didn’t take it upon himself to train you… he would have to kill you to make sure you didn’t end up joining Rey and the Resistance. You wouldn’t ever, he must know that! For Fuck’s sake, he had just pried your mind open like a nut!

Would you be able to do that too? Instantly, you wondered what it would be like to read people’s minds… knowing what’s going on inside their heads…

“You’re stronger than you think. And you know how this will go. You need a teacher.”

You shook your head, backing away. “There is a reason I didn’t tell anyone. I don’t want anything to do with this. The Jedi, the Sith… that undying war between them…”

“You think I do?” Kylo interrupted, taking yet another step forward. He was so close now you could almost feel his body heat radiating off him… or was it the Force? Were you able to feel it surging within him?

“Then don’t.”

“W-what?”

“Don’t. I will create a new universe, a new galaxy. No Jedi, no Sith… only power. Join me, (Y/N).”

Your heart skipped a beat. How did he know your… right. Mind reading. Surely, he knew everything by now.

“I…”

“Join me.”

“I’m just an engineer!” You exclaimed, still unsure of this whole situation. Here he was, Kylo Ren, doing what you had dreaded and… anticipated? He was offering to train you. Show you the ways of the Force, teach you so much more than just levitating objects in your quarters.

“For now.” He replied calmly. “But you can be more.”

“W-what if I refuse?”

Kylo frowned. “Will you?”

You swallowed, meeting his brown eyes again. Your heart was in your mouth when you answered.

“No.”

So when he hold out his gloved hand for you to take, you obliged, the sensation of the warm leather against your fingers sending pleasant shivers up and down your spine.

“Don’t be afraid.” He murmured barely audible, the Force cursing through both your bodies like electricity, your powers combined, intertwined like ivy.

Your fate came crushing down on you that day. From now on, nothing would ever be the same again. Kylo Ren would make sure of that.

A/N: Maybe there will be a Part II? Maybe Hux will make an appearance? ;-)

[rumblelibrary]

I'm not sure if you have already done something like this before, and if you did, please let me know, I'd love to read it, BUT I was wondering if you could do a little thing, maybe with Sebastian Zöllner, where he is like totally behind on every fucking deadline, work is just piling up, he got into stress with his ex, the dishes are not done, he should go take out the trash, you know, everything is just piling up and he just cracks under the pressure, severely doubting his worth as a person. And his friend, the reader, gotta try their best to build him up again, telling him all the things they love about him, and it slowly turns into a love confession without them noticing.

Is this too elaborate, does that make sense for Seb? Idk. To me it does? Like he's always very...Seb around other people, but deep down I feel like he's always under this pressure to live up to his own and others expectations, wanting to be big and famous and perfect in a way.

I'm so sorry, brain go brrr.

Never Enough [Sebastian Zöllner x Reader]

Word Count: 4k Warnings: bad habits (heavy smoking and drinking), self deprecation, depression and some fluff in the end. A/N: I loved this prompt, I love to write Sebastian so thanks to you once more for giving me this opportunity

He should have probably realised something was wrong when the ashtray was vomiting cigarettes out from its dooming position beside the laptop.

He nervously used the left part of the one he just ended to scavenge some space and just pressed it along the others.

Or maybe when after another sip of the same cold coffee mixed with cheap gin he felt the walls of his stomach revolting and stirring against him, threatening a much bigger damage.

Or, again, when he felt like calling back Elke because he was so alone and he was hungry and tired, and she might hate him but he could pull some puppy eyes and maybe it would work. It usually did.

The truth was that he shouldn’t have taken up so many jobs, but the bank account was crying and he needed them, he needed the money.

But again: writing about the umpteenth girl- artist performing naked on a famous historic location?

Or do we have to talk about the way somebody splashed some colour here and there  on a canvas saying it is the catharsis of his young mind against the social construct?

Please, may God spare him from the man calling himself landscape artist because he takes pictures of naked girls on a field.

Charged up with this amount of nothingness, he could just write and delete, write and delete, words count going quickly up to 400 only to go back at 0 in a snap of his fingers over the buttons, because he couldn’t just tear them down. He had to give them some hope, a glimpse of potential he couldn’t see and he wasn’t even aware it existed. Each of them disgusted him, but he was specifically asked to be entertaining and not a killer with his words.

So he kept swiping up videos and photos of these artists, trying to find one thing, one holy grail to get attached to and finally write one good optimistic line in the middle of the words he had to pull up to keep a moderate tone.

He rubbed his temple running over his hairline, which by the way was perfectly fine, before his hand reached down and he touched his t-shirt pulling on the neckline to gather some air, he was wearing his pyjama still, white stained shirt on blue tartan pants. He raised up the shirt and bowed his head down giving in a long inhale from the inside and just cringed to himself.

He looked around as he couldn’t stand up, if he did then he will get only more distracted and these articles needed to be ready for tomorrow.

He noticed the spray against the mosquitos on the floor, those little bastards always hiding under his desk to bite his ankles, he picked it up and sprayed it over himself like it was perfume hoping to ignore the need of a shower for few more hours.

His eyes scanned the small studio flat he was living now: the dishes sticking out of the sink, the noisy fridge buzzing. The one table that was also his work desk filled with used mugs, stained plates covered in cigarettes and leftovers, empty packages of his favourite brand discarded everywhere: from the bathroom up to the couch and to the small bed he owned. Damn, if he run out of cigarette it will be hard to ignore how he also run out of food.

The space was dark and gloomy, some of his stuff still packed up, the fake pop art panting of him and Elke staring at him reminding him of his other loss.

He didn’t touch the bed in days, he just slept on the seat or on the couch.

His attention was attracted by his phone buzzing.

He sat up straight as it was her, it was Elke.

Did she sense his discomfort? 

“Elke” he picked up the call in a second.

“Wow, a quick answer, did you have your phone already in your hand or it happens just so late at night?”

Her sarcasm did’t go past him, but he just thought how long it was since he heard a human voice and not the recording of some idiot calling himself artist.

“No, I was thinking of you”

“Yes, sure, look I have sent you an email with the bills of the time you were here, the ones you have left to pay and it is only fair that you pay at least half of them”

“Sure” he just said it because he wanted to go past the point of money, he wanted her back. Maybe he could crush at her place, feel her hands through his hair, shower, sleep some good sleep and the articles will come around in few types “Elke, I was thinking we might…”

“I just called you for the bills”

“I know, but maybe we could have” his eyes darted at the top right of his laptop screen to see the time “a drink together?”

She huffed a laughter as he frowned lightly “I know you Seb, if it is money or sex what you’re looking for that door is closed and it has been for a long time”

“I know” he murmured as he let out a breathy sigh, a dooming sense of loneliness creeping over him like a giant spider ready to wrap him up and eat him “I just hoped…”

“Don’t hope Sebastian, you’re already an hopeless cause”

She hung up on him and he was left there, he kept that same pose with his phone against his ear. His eyes trailing once again over the empty page of his document on the screen, on the chaos surrounding him.

He nibbled on his bottom lip before running his tongue over the pained area.

He pushed the phone back down on the table with a tremble of his jaw and a shaky hand.

She was right.

What he did of his life anyway? He lost most of his occasions in life, he was now in his thirties and he concluded nothing of what he hoped to be, he failed in all the departments both as an artist and as a critic.

A jack of all trades is a master of none, and maybe only the first type of the famous quote could be applied to him.

He couldn’t even take the trash out or he couldn’t remember the last time he ate something that was vaguely resembling of fruits or vegetables. It is all good when you imagine yourself as a bohemian rooting against the world, when you convince yourself that’s only the proof you needed to know you are fighting well against a system of art that privileges banality and marketing over real artistic value and that, one day, all your struggles will be worth it.

Even Picasso was poor for a long time in Paris.

Damn, maybe to be in a situation like this in Paris would sound more romantic.

But the truth was: he never imagined to have to do it alone, that life would feel so overwhelming, that there wouldn’t be anything but extreme struggle, anger, loneliness and a terrible diet.

For a moment he wished to be a baby again, to be the bright boy he was and let mommy take care of his needs and his dirty shirt and empty stomach. He wished that maybe somebody noticed him before, that somebody saw his talent and helped him to pull it out instead of leaving him to do it on his own only to come late to every step.

And now it is too late, he is lost in the sea of terrible paid jobs and anguishing relationships, let’s not forget maybe he indeed had a receding hairline and he was doomed to get bold .

He squeezed his eyes as a soft sob took over his lip, hand running over his forehead as he pulled on his hair justifying his tears with some physical pain. He shook his head as he tried to gain back some composure, hand flung over to pick up his coffee mug and giving in a long gulp of the coffee, the same one he swore before to not touch again, only to almost choke on it, couching it out only to pick up the bottom hem of his shirt to clean his laptop screen.

He fucking hated to write on a computer, the old typewriters inspired him but that damn ink was too expensive now for his sore pockets.

He smirked to himself as he kept doing it, finding good excuses to call himself off any responsibility. But maybe Elke was right, well she surely was, she had two degrees, maybe he was really a lot cause. He frowned as he wiped slowly the screen with his already stained shirt, the wetness sticking then against his skin as soon as he let it go giving him another shiver.

He didn’t have even the strength to cry, he could only accept it was over.

The curse that he shouted out loud when he heard knocking at the door, smashing him out of his thought spiral, generated an immediate anger reaction from him.

“Fuck, shit, if it is the fucking neighbour, I swear I will kill her cat or that rat she has as cat, fucking hell”

He grumbled as he stood up moving across the table not caring about his state, he only wanted to crawl back into a ball and maybe nuzzle a bit somewhere.

When his death glare appeared after the door opened in a powerful swing his eyebrows lifted immediately finding you on the other side.

He blinked, one of those sleepy blinks where somebody closes his eyes and then opens them really wide to make sure it is not made up in their brain, that one.

His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at you 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“You should wash your mouth with holy water Sebastian” you said shaking your head raising your arms to show him some paper bags “I am bringing food and body shower”

He shook his head “Are you calling me stinky?”

“I am” You quickly replied moving past him into his place ignoring his groan.

He stood by the door slowly closing it, he was sure that old bitch was looking through her peephole, only then he stared at you try to make your way into the filthy kitchen. He was really embarrassed about his antics, but surely this time he exceeded some record.

“I am speechless Seb, I helped you with the moving and this place seems to have taken over you” you said as you knew he was in some rut when he kept such a long phone silence.

He was usually always texting, sending memes or one sentence texts.

You cared about him, deeply, you knew he was full of flaws and little quirks, but that’s what made him special. Nevertheless, you were worried about the state of the place, how it showed the way he let himself get dragged through the days. So he observed you, better to say, your back, the way you moved around opening the window to let fresh air inside, turning on a lamp to make some light that wasn’t just the blue one of the screen. Pulling out commodities and food from your magic bags like some sort of Mary Poppins of struggling writers. How you poured soap in the dirty load of dishes and pans, the way you marched securely to his desk to pick up that filthy mug and you frowned just sniffing at it.

“Is that poison?”

“Rat poison” he corrected you.

You shook your head as you cleaned a glass and filled it with water and among the groceries you pulled out a banana.

“Have this now, it will help” you said and he took the glass with one hand and the banana with the other like his brain was shut down.

He stared at you as you leaned your head slightly on side, he went through bad times after the break up but you had never seen him in such a helpless state.

He was chaotic but he always loved to keep up his appearance, to give that handsome and damned kind of vibe.

“Sebastian” you called him as his eyes spaced out and now where back on you “Are you alright?”

He observed you, he stared at your face like he was trying to recognise you, truth it was he kept pushing himself to say yes, say yes, say it is all good, make a joke, a remark, keep it up. You don’t need his burden, you don’t need to hate him like Elke and others do.

Just say yes.

“No” he said as his lips trembled and you watched his ironic mask fall right in front of you as he looked away hiding his tears, real tears, not the ones he can play out whenever he needs.

Just as quickly as you gave him the banana and the water you took them off his hands afraid he might hurt himself by dropping the glass in particular.

"Seb" you called his attention as he sobbed moving like a bird trying to hide his face against his own shoulder.

You took his now empty hands dragging him toward the couch and kicking off the pile of dirty clothes and discarded books on top of it to make him sit down with you.

"Talk to me"

He didn't, the man that was never out of words, even in the times he should have been, was now silent as a tombstone staring away from you as you gave a gentle squeeze to his hands. It pained you to see him in such a state.

So weak, so helpless like a lost child.

"I can't help you if you don't talk"

Sebastian shook his head still staring at the wall.

"You can't help me"

"Is it about writing? I can proof read you, it will be a moment"

He shook his head again making, hair bouncing from side to side.

"No, it is not important if I write or not"

You frowned at that comment.

"What the hell?" you just blurted out "Seb you're a talented writer, you're passionate, funny, witty, why shouldn't it be important?"

He looked up at you shaking his head "I can't write, I can't put together two sentences"

Your eyes travelled onto his side profile, truth to be told he looked worn out but he was still handsome like only Sebastian Zöllner could be. He had that chaotic charm, even with a wrinkled suit he was fearless, strong, poignant. You couldn't avoid him, he owned every place he stepped in and you could feel his gaze run through your bloodstream.

When he asks a question, he meant it, it was a test run into your bones and you loved every second of it.

His lips tightened as he diverted his gaze finally to you. You knew his relationship with Elke was important, he cared about others even if he didn't show it daily like most people do.

"Is it Elke?"

"No, she was just right"

"About what?"

He gulped, his throat dry as he pulled his bottom lip in his mouth grinding his teeth over it like playing something through that gesture.

"About me"

"Breakups are always shit, don't you even.."

"No Y/N" he interrupted you, he was serious, maybe his voice trembled but he wasn't lying or playing some role "I am really a lost cause, I mean look at his place"

His hand waved around the small flat like a drunk orchestra director.

"It is pure trash, I haven't finished unpacking, I didn't have food until you came, I am unable to look after myself, to look after the people that I care about. I worked so hard to be an artist and then I became a critic and now I am so knee deep into my own shit that I have more debts than entries, more failures than successes, more haters than friends"

He gulped down, the waterline of his eyes dangerously red and he sniffled up as he let out a little weak whisper "I just wish I could disappear"

"No"

It came out of you like a lighting bolt, it surged out of you before you could even elaborate. Like an order. A command.

"Seb, you're now in a rough patch of life, but you have always worked hard and well as a writer"

"I am a writer because I failed as an artist"

"You're a writer because you know of what you're talking about, because you're able to see the difference between marketing and passion, between hard work and laziness, because you respect that profession and it makes you the best critic"

"I just want to destroy them all because I am envious, Elke always said I am fuelled by my own envy”

"I have read pieces of yours only encouraging the rightful and bringing down the real frauds"

He shook his head as he was just fixating on the wrong, on the flaws, on the problems.

You huffed cupping his cheeks to force him to look at your eyes.

"Look at me" you said not admitting replies "you are talented in what you do, you are one of the best in your field and you're not on some big magazine only because they know they will have to put up with your shit: with the fact you always meet the people, you look at art pieces in presence, you touch them, you research the colours, you scrutinise everything to the bone"

He took your hands hating to be held like that but he squeezed them in his owns.

"And yes, you're allergic to ironing clothes and washing dishes is your personal nightmare, and yes, you give out many temper tantrums and have a terribly dark sense of humour, you are a failure at time and money management, you love filthy rich stuff and smoke like your life depends on it"

He stared at you, he listened quietly as you knew him from so long and many people, Elke included, wondered what you gained from helping him or just being around him that much. He often teased his ex about being jealous of you and she always said that it was like being jealous of a mortgage.

"So you agree?"

 "I agree to say you are flawed like all of us, that you are just the perfect balance to your writing, you're what you write. You're passionate, you give out the two hundred percent of what you can give, you are like this, you go all-in in everything you do, there's no compromise, no mid way, no foreseeable change of direction, you speed up into the darkness and don't look back. You are bold, you take risks, you let people hate you because you do not compromise with who is son of who or who is the director of what gallery, you judge people over their real qualities. Because you talk to them in their face, because you don't hide that yes, you want to be great, because you're handsome and charming and smart, nobody can outsmart you in your field, not even that idiot you hate that much"

"Golo Fucking Moser" he murmured

"Golo Fucking Moser" you repeated with a chuckle "you don't have anything to envy to him beside the bruises he probably has on his knees for bending down to anyone"

He chuckled at that comment.

"And also, you're more attractive, that pisses off Seb, it is unfair to the poor man”

He leaned his head on side as you wouldn't normally shower him in compliments, he had enough ego for that, but you had never seen him like this and you wished to never see him again in such a state.

"You find me attractive?"

"Well for sure you're an eye candy" you joked

"I mean it"

You rolled your eyes blushing a bit and huffing a chuckle "I do, alight? It is universal knowledge"

He looked at you as he still held your hands in his, his thumbs making soft shapes over the back of your hand.

"That I am attractive or that you find me attractive?"

You groaned looking away with an embarrassed giggle “okay, okay, I see you're back in yourself, let's eat now"

You moved to stand up but he didn't do the same remaining sat in his spot.

"Tell me"

"I pumped your self esteem enough, now let me go"

He chuckled softly, he never really thought you'd be interested. He usually shows off so many bad traits that he has to tone himself down and really try hard to attract someone. It is all an effort on his part to appear better or at least less quirky.

And then now look at you, appreciating even his shit show.

"Y/N" he murmured giving you a soft squeeze. You kept silent not daring now to meet his gaze. He bowed his head trying to reach for your eyes with his gaze and he looked up at you, a smile that wasn't provocative over his lips.

You pulled back yanking your wrists off his grip to move straight into the kitchen corner.

You begun pulling ut some fresh vegetables and bread, you also got some cheese knowing he loves it, wanting him to have a good dinner.

He followed you almost immediately and soon you found his arms grasping you once more in a hug, his chest pressed against your back, his forehead on your shoulder.

"Seb, you..."

"I know, I stink, just give me a moment" he said and you obliged him gently caressing his arms around you.

You hated to be in the friend zone, but you wouldn't be able to survive to lose him forever or to have him joke about it.

Now he was quiet, tender like a hurt pup.

"Thank you, you know you can count on me too, right? For anything” he said and you chuckled softly “I know, you’re my favourite avenger”

He nodded brushing his crisp beard against your cheek and after few minutes stuck in that hug he dropped a kiss on your neck "love you”

He pulled back giving you a smile as he picked the shower gel you left on the counter bringing it with himself to the bathroom with a soft hum.

You smiled a bit bitterly to yourself as you guessed it was meant in a friendly way, but today it was alright. You could endure it. Also that kiss, he always did it when he was drunk, at parties or in the taxi back home after a viewing. It was his cuddly way to say things without saying them, without rambling, and you appreciated that silent language. 

Maybe now he was drunk over his own feelings.

Just like you.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams @charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme  @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl @obsidianlaszlo @alindeluce @zemosimp05 @baronesszemo-blackwood @nocapesdahling @everythingbeginsineternity-blog @archangelproperty

[nythyfran]

ariaste‌:

theladyzephyr‌:

Folks let me talk about Crowley and sunglasses, because I have a lot of emotions about when he wears them and when he doesn’t, and Hiding versus Being Seen.

We’re introduced to the concept of Crowley wearing glasses even before we’re introduced to Crowley, by Hastur: “If you ask me he’s been up here too long. Gone native. Enjoying himself too much. Wearing sunglasses even when he doesn’t need them.”

Honestly Crowley’s whole introduction is a fantastic; we learn so much about his character in a tiny amount of time. The fact that he’s late, the Queen playing as the Bentley approaches, the “Hi, guys” in response to Hastur and Ligur’s “Hail Satan”. I like this intro much better than the one originally scripted with the rats at the phone company, but I digress.

Crowley wears sunglasses when he doesn’t need them. Specifically, he still wears them around the demons, and when he’s in hell.

You know where Crowley doesn’t wear glasses? At home.

We never once see him wearing glasses in his flat, except for when he knows Hastur and Ligur are coming. That’s an emotional kick to the gut for me. Here’s one of the only places Crowley’s comfortable enough to be sans glasses, and when he knows it’s going to be invaded he prepares not just physically with the holy water, but by putting up that emotional barrier in a place where he wasn’t supposed to need it.

An argument could be made that Crowley actually never needs glasses. We’re shown that it’s well within the angels’ and demons’ powers to pass unnoticed by humans. Crowley and Aziraphale waltz out of the manor in the middle of a police raid, and going unnoticed by the police takes so little effort that they can keep up a conversation while they stroll through. Even an unimaginative demon like Hastur apparently doesn’t have trouble with the humans losing it over his demonic eyes. The humans in the scene at Megiddo are acting like “this guy is a little weird” and not “holy shit his entire eyeballs are black jelly”

That means that Crowley’s glasses are a choice, just like Aziraphale’s softness. Sure, he could arrange matters so that nobody ever noticed his eyes, but he doesn’t want to. Crowley wants acceptance, and he wants to belong, and he’s never, ever had that. He didn’t fit in before the Fall in Heaven, he doesn’t fit in with the demons in Hell. With the glasses, and with the Bentley and his plants and with the barely-bad-enough-to-be-evil nuisance temptations, he’s choosing Earth. This is where he wants to fit in, perhaps not with the humans, but amongst them.

Even after Crowley is at his absolute lowest, when he thinks Aziraphale’s dead and he’s on his way to drink until the world ends, he takes the time to put a new pair on when the old ones are damaged. He needs that emotional crutch right now, even with everything about to turn into a pile of puddling goo he’s not ready for the world to see his eyes.

Which is why I swore out loud when Hastur forcibly takes them off.

It’s about the worst thing that Hastur could have done. Rather than leading with a physical threat, his first act is to strip away Crowley’s emotional defences. It’s a great writing choice because god it made me hate Hastur, even more than all the physical violence we see him do.

It’s also the moment that Crowley really truly gets his shit together, and focuses all of his considerable imagination on getting to Tadfield and Aziraphale to help save the world. He’s wielding the terrifyingly unimaginable power of someone who’s hit rock bottom and realised it literally could not get any worse than this. He doesn’t put another pair of glasses on after discorporating Hastur, and he spends the majority of the airbase sequence without them.

He puts them back on again, I think, at the moment that he really lets himself hope. When he thinks ‘shit, there may be a real chance that we get through this to a future that I don’t want to lose’.

The vulnerability is back, and he needs Adam to trust him. In Crowley’s mind being accepted by a human means he needs to have his eyes hidden. Someone give the demon a hug, please.

Interestingly, there’s only one time in the whole series that we see Crowley willingly choose to take his glasses off around another person. Only one person he’ll take down that barrier for, and even then he’s drunk before he does it.

Dear God/Satan/Someone that makes my heart ache. Crowley’s chosen Earth, but he’s also chosen Aziraphale. He’s been looking for somewhere to belong his entire existence, and it’s with the angel that he finally feels it.

When the dust settles and the world is saved and they finally have space to be themselves unguarded, I like to imagine Crowley takes off the glasses when it’s just the two of them; the idea of being known doesn’t scare him quite so much anymore.  

also OH MY GOD THAT LAST GIF I NEVER NOTICED THE WINK BEFORE?????????