#i’m good with the bugs and the critters thanks

[sayingyournames]

new hozier just dropped so i won’t be normal again for at least 3-5 business days, until then i’ll be laying in the woods on a patch of moss. if u need me - no u don’t.

[pucksandpower]

Blackmail Material

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: you love your boyfriend more than life itself but who can blame you for keeping a folder of all the blackmail material he has given you over the years … just in case

You hear a bloodcurdling scream from the other room. “Y/N! Come quick!” Charles yells.

You rush over to find him standing on top of the couch, a look of sheer terror on his face. “What’s wrong?” You ask.

He points a shaky finger at the floor. “Sp-spider!”

You look down to see a tiny little spider no bigger than a blueberry crawling across the hardwood. You have to stop yourself from laughing at the sight of your brave Formula 1 driver boyfriend absolutely losing it over this tiny critter.

“Really? That’s what all the fuss is about?” You don’t bother to keep the amusement out of your voice.

“Don’t laugh!” He says indignantly. “It’s a monster! Kill it, please!”

You kneel down and take a closer look at the offending arachnid. “Aww, it’s just a little jumping spider,” you say. “It’s actually kind of cute.”

Charles makes a strangled sound of disbelief. “Cute? It’s a beast from the depths of hell! I want it gone!”

You roll your eyes affectionately. “You race cars at over 300 kilometers per hour, but you’re scared of a little spider barely bigger than a piece of lint?”

“Yes! Spiders are my worst fear. Now stop teasing me and get rid of it!” He gives you his best pleading look from his perch on top of the couch.

“Alright, alright,” you acquiesce, grabbing an empty glass from the coffee table. You gently trap the spider under it and slide a piece of cardstock underneath, trapping the spider safely.

“Is it dead? Please tell me you killed it,” Charles asks hopefully.

“Of course not, I’m just going to let it go outside. Spiders are good, they eat other bugs.”

Charles visibly shudders. “Well get it out of here! I don’t want to see it ever again.”

You carry the spider carefully to the sliding door and release it on the balcony. When you come back inside, Charles is still standing on the couch looking suspiciously around at the floor.

“The horrible beast has been banished, you can come down now,” you say.

He hesitantly steps back down onto the floor. “Are you sure it’s gone? You didn’t just give it free reign to run wild in the apartment?”

You try and fail to hold back a laugh. “Yes, I’m sure. Your life is no longer in peril.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “This isn’t funny! Spiders are evil creatures with too many legs and eyes. They should not exist.”

You go over and wrap your arms around him comfortingly, though you’re still struggling not to giggle. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. But you have to admit, it’s kind of silly that someone who races cars at death-defying speeds could be so terrified of a tiny spider.”

He huffs indignantly. “It’s a completely rational fear. They’re all legs and eyes and they move so fast and erratically and some of them can be venomous. Absolutely horrifying.”

You smile indulgently and kiss his cheek. “Okay, I get it. I promise I’ll protect you if any more evil spiders invade our home.”

“Thank you,” he says, finally relaxing into your arms now that the threat has passed.

But you just can’t resist teasing him a little more. “It was just so small!”

He pulls back and gives you an unamused look. “You’re not going to let this go anytime soon, are you?”

You grin impishly. “Letting my big macho boyfriend stand on the couch and scream because of a teeny tiny spider? Yeah, probably not gonna let you live this one down for a while.”

Charles groans. “This is so unfair. The guys will never let me hear the end of it if they find out.”

You pat his shoulder sympathetically. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. I won’t tell anyone that Charles Leclerc is terrified of itsy bitsy spiders.”

And if you happened to save evidence of his freak out just in case? Well … it’s not technically telling anyone unless you share the video.

***

You can’t help but grin as Charles paces back and forth in your New York hotel room, running his hands through his hair in distress.

“Chill out babe, I’m sure the airline will find your luggage soon,” you try to soothe him.

Charles whips around, eyes wide. “Chill out? How can I chill out when my La Mer is missing? Do you have any idea how long it took me to perfect my skincare routine?”

You stifle a laugh at his dramatics. “I mean, it’s just skincare products. Not the end of the world.”

“Just skincare products?” Charles looks at you in horror. “That’s like saying a Ferrari is just a car! La Mer is the cream of the crop, the holy grail of skin care! My face needs it to survive!”

You can’t hold back your grin anymore. “Wow, didn’t realize I was dating such a high maintenance diva,” you tease.

Charles huffs, crossing his arms. “I am not high maintenance, I just have discerning taste and an appreciation for quality.”

“Uh huh, sure,” you say. “Is that why you made us stop at three different Whole Foods on the way here from the airport until you found your favorite protein shake?”

“That is completely different,” Charles protests. “My skin is very sensitive, I can’t just use any old drugstore products.”

You laugh and pull Charles onto the couch next to you. “You’re cute when you pout.”

He tries to keep a straight face but ends up cracking a smile. “I can’t help it, I’m freaking out! Do you know how dry airplanes are? My skin is going to be a flaky desert by tomorrow.”

You run a hand through his hair. “Aww poor baby. However will you cope without your six hundred dollar moisturizer?”

Charles narrows his eyes at you. “You joke, but this is serious stuff. Do you want a boyfriend with wrinkles and acne?”

“I mean, a few wrinkles never hurt anyone,” you say, kissing his cheek.

He gasps dramatically. “Don’t even joke about that! I’ll be twenty seven soon, wrinkle prevention needs to start now.”

You shake your head in amusement. “Most twenty seven year olds aren’t this worried about wrinkles. But I guess Formula 1 drivers really are high maintenance.”

“With good reason! We can’t have crows feet interfering with our vision,” Charles says matter-of-factly.

You give him a look. “You’re just making things up now.”

Charles holds your hands, looking deeply into your eyes. “Mon amour, you must understand. Athletes age in dog years. We need anti-aging products just to keep up.”

You burst out laughing, shoving him playfully. “You’re so full of it!”

Charles grins cheekily. “But you love me anyway.”

You lean in and give him a soft kiss. “Yeah I do. Even if you are a high maintenance diva.”

Charles puts a hand to his chest in mock offense. “I thought girlfriends were supposed to be supportive! My skincare is obviously very important to me.”

You snuggle up next to him, running a hand through his hair. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Tell me all about this super special moisturizer.”

His eyes light up. “Well first of all it contains like crushed up diamonds or something. And they freeze each jar before shipping it to keep the ingredients ultra fresh.”

You make a mental note to Google this later, since it sounds completely absurd that diamonds would be an effective skincare ingredient. Though with Charles, you can never be too sure.

“Uh huh, diamonds. That’s totally normal,” you say, playing along.

“Exactly! And the founder makes sure each jar charges under the energy of a full moon before it’s sold. It’s really an intricate artisanal process.” Charles sighs longingly.

You smile and kiss his pouting lips. “You’re cute. I promise your skin will survive one night without magic moon diamonds.”

Charles snuggles against your shoulder. “I know, I know. Skincare is just part of my routine, it makes me feel relaxed and put together. And smelling like citrus blossoms is an added bonus.”

You kiss the top of his head. “I get that. Hopefully the airline finds your stuff soon. But in the meantime, want me to see if anyone sells La Mer nearby?”

Charles perks up. “Ooh yes, let’s check! I saw they have a Dior down the block too.”

You laugh and take his hand. “Of course they do. Come on, let’s go spoil you with new overpriced skincare products until yours turn up.”

***

You walk into the kitchen and see your boyfriend standing at the counter, a pile of uncooked spaghetti next to him. He takes a portion in his hand … which he proceeds to snap in half before dropping it into the pot of boiling water on the stove.

“Charles! What are you doing?” You exclaim in shock.

He turns to you, confused. “What do you mean? I’m just making sure the pasta will fit better in the pot.”

“But you can’t break spaghetti before cooking it!” You say incredulously. “That’s like a cardinal sin in Italy!”

Charles laughs. “Oh come on, it’s not that big of a deal. The pasta will cook just fine this way.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I can’t believe Il Predestinato is out here breaking pasta. Do you have any idea how offensive Italians would find this?”

“I’m sure they will survive the absolute tragedy of some broken spaghetti,” he jokes.

You nod to your phone. “It’s a good thing I’m recording this for posterity then. The whole country needs to know about this travesty.”

Charles’ eyes go wide. “What? No, don’t record me!” He reaches for your phone but you spin away, giggling.

“The people of Italy deserve to know the truth about their hero!” You declare dramatically.

“Mon ange, please give me the phone,” he pleads, trying to grab your arm. You dance out of reach.

“Truth and justice will prevail!” You continue recording as Charles chases you around the kitchen island.

“Come on, delete it! This could start an international incident if it gets out!”

You pause to catch your breath, phone held high. “An international inchident? Wow, look at you being all dramatic now. I thought it wasn’t a big deal?”

Charles runs a hand through his hair in exasperation. “I didn’t think you’d actually record it as blackmail material! Please, mon amour, I’m begging you, delete the video.”

You pretend to think about it. “Hmm I don’t know … this seems like prime viral video content. Scuderia Ferrari Driver Destroys Pasta, Enrages Italy. Can you imagine the views it would get?”

“Y/N!” Charles lunges forward and tackles you onto the living room couch. You shriek with laughter as he tries to pry the phone from your grip.

“Noooo my video!” You yell dramatically.

Charles pins your arms above your head with one hand and reaches for the phone with the other. “Give it to me!”

You squirm underneath him. “Never!”

He leans down until his face is just inches from yours. “What’s it going to take for you to delete that video, huh?” His voice is low and gravelly.

You catch your breath, hyper aware of his body pressing against yours. “I don’t know, what are you offering?” You ask cheekily.

Charles brushes his nose against yours. “What if I made you your favorite dinner tomorrow night?”

You tilt your chin up in defiance. “That’s all I get for deleting potential internet gold? I don’t think so.”

He moves even closer, his lips just barely grazing your cheek. “Okay, what if I take you out for a nice date too? Dinner and a show at the opera, your choice.” His breath is warm against your skin.

You close your eyes for a second, affected by his closeness but not ready to give in yet. “Tempting, but I think this video is worth even more than that.”

Charles makes a small noise of frustration before capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. You melt into it for a blissful moment before pulling back slightly.

“Well that’s certainly a start,” you murmur, your heart racing.

Charles lets go of your hands to cradle your face tenderly. “Mon cœur, please delete the video. I’m begging you. I’ll do anything.”

You search his eyes intently. “Anything?”

“Anything,” he confirms fervently before kissing you again, deeper this time.

You wrap your arms around his neck and give yourself over to the kiss. After several heated moments, you gently break away.

“Okay fine, I’ll delete the video on one condition.”

Charles looks at you warily. “Name it.”

“You have to let me drive your Ferrari.”

Charles groans and drops his head against your shoulder. “You’re killing me, you know that?”

You laugh and pat his head consolingly. “Those are my terms.”

He lifts his head to grin ruefully at you. “You drive a hard bargain. But for the sake of Italian nonnas everywhere, I accept your deal.”

You lift up your phone and pretend to wipe away a tear. “The souls of broken spaghetti can finally rest easy.”

Charles just shakes his head before leaning down to silence you with another deep kiss. As you lose yourself in the feeling of his body against yours, you quietly move the video into an encrypted folder. After all, you never know when it might come in handy.

***

You raise an eyebrow as you watch Charles carefully pour Red Bull into his Ferrari water bottle. “Do you buy those in bulk?” You ask with a laugh.

Charles gasps in exaggerated outrage. “Buy from the enemy? Never!” He screws the cap on tightly and gives you a sly grin. “Max and I have an arrangement.”

“An arrangement?” You echo in surprise. This is news to you.

Charles nods, looking pleased with himself. “Yes, a secret trade deal. I provide him cappuccinos from the Ferrari cafe and Max supplies me with as much Red Bull as I need.”

You burst out laughing. “Are you serious? You and Max smuggle each other contraband caffeinated drinks?”

“Shh, not so loud!” Charles glances around furtively, but the motorhome is empty except for the two of you. “It must remain a secret.”

Still chuckling, you lower your voice conspiratorially. “So the great Charles Leclerc betrays his team for energy drinks. The Tifosi would riot if they knew!”

Charles winces dramatically. “Do not say such things! It is not betrayal, merely … creative problem solving.” He takes a long swig of Red Bull and grins. “The taste of the enemy is sweet.”

“I can’t believe you drink that stuff. And I can’t believe Max is your supplier!” You shake your head in amusement. “Does anyone else know about this arrangement of yours?”

“Only Lando. We needed a neutral third party to broker the deal and make the exchanges.” Charles leans in with a playful smile. “So do not be getting any ideas about exposing our scheme, yes?”

You mimic zipping your lips. “My lips are sealed … as long as you share some of that!”

Charles pretends to think about it for a second before breaking into a grin and handing you the bottle. The carbonated liquid fizzes pleasantly on your tongue, the familiar flavor mingling with the surrealness of drinking Red Bull from a Ferrari bottle. You take one more sip then hand it back to Charles.

“Just don’t let Fred or Christian find out,” you warn teasingly. “Pretty sure this counts as treason.”

Charles just laughs. “They turn a blind eye. The team knows I perform best when properly caffeinated.” He caps the bottle and adds, “But no more for you, ma belle. I only have a limited supply!”

You pout dramatically. “Fine, keep your precious Red Bull. I guess I’ll just have to tell everyone what’s really in your water bottle!”

The can of Red Bull that Charles rushes to give you tastes even sweeter than usual.

[featherandferns]

daylight - twelve

jj maybank x fem!reader | part 12 of the daylight series | read part 11 here

content warnings: pure filth/sexual content (f receiving; p in v)

word count: 3.7k.

blurb: JJ meets you at the chateau to talk. You wonder if you're explanations are enough to fix what the two of you had.

Heels dug into the dirt, you gently swing yourself back and forth in the hammock. Your eyes keep glancing to the driveway. Nobody is home at the chateau. John B, Pope and Kiara are all at their respective part-time jobs. The chickens and critters are your only company as you anxiously wait for someone who might not even turn up. It’s not like you’d blame him if he didn’t. 

The sound of a cawing bird has you looking to the water. A beautiful creature, with long, white, feathered wings, dips gracefully to the surface and flies away with a fish wedged in its beak. Smiling to yourself, you appreciate the moment without your camera. It calms you for a moment. 

Crunching footsteps over dead grass kills that calm like a child stepping on a bug. Your head swings round to find JJ wandering over, hands in his short pockets, eyes downcast to the dirt. He’s gnawing on his lips, trying to seem unbothered and woefully failing. 

“Hey,” you say. He looks up. 

“Hey.”

“You came.”

JJ shrugs. “You called.”

Your heart stirs from his words. He pauses a safe space between you as if you’re contagious and looks out to the water just as you had moments prior. The wind feathers his sun-bleached blonde hair as if taunting you: you wish you could do this, right now. 

“Will you sit down? You’re making me nervous,” you awkwardly laugh.

JJ barely nods and takes a seat in a lawn chair. His vape is soon in hand, serving as a good distraction. He won’t meet your eyes and seems tethered to this aloof act. Suddenly, your mouth runs dry and your thoughts blank. The script that you’d rehearsed the entire night before as Mimsy snored her way through the hours vanishes. There’s no nail polish left on your fingers to distract yourself with, so you take to picking at the skin surrounding your cuticles. 

“I saw those pictures you took for Barry.”

Looking up, you find JJ’s eyes trained on you. 

“They’re really good.”

“Yeah, well, I owed him some favours,” you chuckle quietly. "Thank you."

JJ doesn’t break your gaze and neither do you. There’s a silent conversation but you’re not sure what is said. Sighing, you find the opening line to your drilled speech.

“I owe you an apology.”

JJ doesn’t react. You continue, heart in throat and stomach in shoes. 

“I owe you an apology for the other night - for how I acted. I didn’t answer any of your questions and that was a dick move of me, so…I’m sorry.”

JJ sniffs sharply, jutting his chin. “S’cool.”

Your brows tug together. He takes a hit of his vape. “No, it’s not cool. It’s the exact opposite of cool, JJ - that’s why I’m apologising.”

“Why’re you getting so angry?” JJ says, his eyes flitting over your figure. 

“Because I feel like you’re not taking this seriously.” When he doesn’t reply, your irritation swells like a surf break. “Look, if you just came here to make me feel even worse about how I acted, then you should’ve just stayed at home,” you snap, going to stand. 

“Wait, wait,” JJ hurries. You look at him, half-stood. He gestures for you to sit. “I’m sorry. I just…I’m sorry. Can we just start fresh or something?” 

“Okay,” you eventually mumble, taking your seat. 

“Can you answer my questions now, from the other night?” JJ decides to ask. 

Swallowing, you nod. The feeling of his eyes set on you is pressure enough to try and verbalise the mess that you’d been tidying the past few days, so you look down at your feet and watch as the toes of your shoes scuff the grass and dirt. 

“I wasn’t ready to trust someone like that again, with that kind of intimacy,” you hear yourself say. “It wasn’t that I don’t trust you, exactly, but more that I don’t trust myself. I know that sounds stupid and dumb, but it’s the only way I can explain it. I think what happened at the chateau rattled me a bit. I didn’t want it to happen again.”

“It didn’t bother me,” JJ quietly says. “I mean, there’s way around stuff like that.”

“It wasn’t that, though,” you meekly say, finally braving to meet his eyes. They’re full of tenderness: you can see it, even from all the way over here. “I was thinking about my ex.”

JJ’s brows tug instinctively, lips twitching. You suddenly realise how that sounds and panic. 

“Not like that! Not like in a ‘oh I wish he was here right now’ kind of way,” you scramble, “but in a ‘why the fuck did he do that to me’ kind of way. I don’t know, it put like this mental block up 'cause I just felt like I was back in one of the worst moment’s of my life.”

“He hurt you or something?” JJ asks. You can hear the anger in his words; see the vengeance on his face. 

Sighing, you shake your head. “Not in that kind of way. He just played with me emotionally. I don’t even think he realised he was doing it. But for whatever reason, I haven’t been able to shake how I felt that last time I was with him in that kind of way. It all just felt like a mind game, and it made me doubt myself.”

JJ gives a hesitant nod and you feel he doesn’t fully follow. You didn’t really expect him to, and unloading about your ex who you’d spent far too many months troubled by wasn’t your plan of action. 

“Look, the specifics aren’t important. The bottom line is: it was never you,” you say. You refuse to let him break your stare. “It was never you that was the problem, JJ. God, when you asked me if it was because you weren’t good enough? That fucking broke me. Or that you didn’t turn me on? Cause, fuck, JJ, you can turn me on without even doing anything. It’s actually kinda concerning.”

He laughs at that, small and sheltered, and it makes you smile. The walls are coming down, brick by brick, working together. 

“And instead of just telling you that, I went on the defence and ran. I don’t even know why.”

“I do,” JJ says. He shrugs, as if it’s obvious. “It’s cause it’s easier. That’s why I do it.”

Chuckling, you nod. “Yeah, I guess that’s true, eh?”

JJ toys with his vape and bobs his head, seemingly filtering his thoughts. You’re not entirely sure of what to say next so leave the floor clear. 

“So…What now?”

This was the part of the conversation you had been dreading the most. The anxiety it brought echoed that of how you felt at the ferry station, telling Tyler how you felt. It’s terrifying to be honest with someone. To peel back your skin and let them see what’s underneath, and maybe be turned away as a result. But you know it’s the only thing to do here. 

“I really like you, JJ,” you quietly admit. “And not just as a friend, or a fuck-buddy or a hook-up or whatever the fuck you want to call it. I mean, I have genuine, strong feelings for you.”

You watch him take a slow, heavy breath. You’re not sure what that means. 

“But I can’t do casual, JayJ. I can’t do the situationship, no-label bullshit again: I’m just not wired like that. And I’m insecure in a relationship, and I need to feel wanted, and feel like you wanna show me off, and be complimented and feel held. I’m not saying I’m high maintenance but I just need you to know that I can’t do this thing between us if it isn't exclusive. If it isn’t a relationship.”

Closing your eyes, you pinch the bridge of your nose delicately. The chickens and critters from before make good company now, filling the painful silence as you wait for JJ’s answer. He holds your heart in his hands right now and you have no idea whether he’ll treasure it or trash it. 

“You do that a lot, you know.”

Confused, you hesitantly open your eyes and look at him. He’s smiling. It’s not a brimming smile, like when he’s joking around, squiffy and high, and it isn’t a teasing smile either, that comes when he’s kissing at your neck just to see you wriggle. This smile reminds you of the look on his face from the night of your fight, before it all kicked off. The look that you had seen on your own face too many times before. 

“What?”

“You pinch your nose a lot,” JJ clarifies, nodding to you as a gesture. You lower your fingers when he does. “It’s really cute. It’s usually when you’re angry, or annoyed, or thinking real hard. And you say ‘eh’ a bit too, which is adorable cause I didn’t think Canadians actually said it. When you’re taking pictures, you always close one eye. It makes your face go all scrunchy and stuff, but not in a bad way. You smoke with your left hand even though you’re right handed. And you put mayo on your burger before the ketchup, and practically throw a tantrum if it’s the wrong order even though it’s literally the same fucking thing.”

You stare at JJ, stunned into silence, and he continues. 

“When you surf, you stick out your tongue like you’re try’na do soccer tricks or something. And you’re a God awful ugly swimmer,” he laughs, his smile growing. “You squirm when I kiss that spot on your collarbone and I swear to God, it’s the sexiest fucking thing in the world. There’s this noise you make, too. It’s not really a moan but like…I guess like a whine. It fucking goes right through me, I swear. Could bring me to my fucking knees.”

For some reason, you find your eyes stinging. It’s a insurmountable feeling when you know someone has been observing you. When you know someone has seen you.

JJ shrugs. He darts his tongue over his lips.

“And you were right,” he continues. “About love. How it’s the worst feeling in the world. I realised when you left my house.”

You gasp. It’s quiet, barely there, but you feel as though it echoes across the marshland. You stare at JJ, lips apart, eyes shining. An incipient affection swells in your chest. It soothes every worry and heals every wound. 

Nodding, his smile fails to hide his nerves. “So, yeah. A relationship sounds fucking fine by me, as long as I get to keep you around.”

Laughing softly, you shake your head in disbelief. Here you were, thinking you were about to scare him off, and instead he showed his cards only to reveal the exact same pairings. You always knew the two of you were alike - thought the same way, acted the same way - but you never thought it might be this much. 

“Okay, you’re freaking me out now,” JJ chuckles, “please say something.”

You get to your feet and clear the distance between you. Practically falling into his lap, your hands messily cup JJ’s face and your lips clumsily meeting his. He catches you with ease, pulling you closer to him. Sighs against your lips as the two of you sink into one another. When the discomfort of straddling JJ in a lawn chair becomes too much, you reluctantly part with a heaving chest. You stumble off his lap like you’re drunk and grab at his hand, guiding him to the chateau.

You’ve hardly made it up the stairs to the porch before JJ’s shoving you against the wall, his mouth seeking yours like an air mask. Something between a moan and a gasp slips past your lips. Your fingers tangle into his hair, tugging at the strands as if trying to pull him impossibly nearer. JJ’s tongue lewdly laps at yours. The way it molests your mouth should be crude but it only drives you on. 

Your pussy clenches hopelessly around nothing when one of his hands roughly gropes at your chest through your t-shirt. You whine against his mouth, half-uttering his name, and JJ takes it as his cue to start kissing at your neck. His hand fumbles away from your chest to pull carelessly at your collar, exposing your collarbones. His lips latch onto his favourite spot, the attack worsened by his teeth and tongue, and your eyes slip shut, head falling back against the wooden panelling of the house. Mouth agape, a whine slips almost soundlessly past your lips. You feel JJ’s curl into a smirk. 

“There it fuckin’ is,” he mumbles. 

Sick of him having all the power, you drag a hand down his chest. Its fast rise and fall would be cause for concern if it weren’t for the tent in his pants. Your hand slips into his shorts and you cup him over his boxers and JJ practically stumbles against you, stuttering out a groan. Lips beside his ear, your lustful breaths form words as you start to palm him over the cotton. 

“All worked up for me? Hm? You gonna take care of me?”

“Yes, fuck,” he gasps. One of his hands grips your waist tight and mean. 

“Gonna fuck me?”

“Please,” JJ practically whimpers. Your lips upturn into a sinful smirk.

Slipping your hand into his boxers, you start to jack him off. JJ groans against your collarbones, head laying limp on your shoulder. His hot breath fans your arousal like kindling to a fire. Your thumb teases over the tip and he shudders in your hold. 

“So fuckin’ good for me,” you croon as you continue to work him. He hardly holds it together when your fingertips graze his balls. 

His fingers wrap around your wrist, suddenly drawing your hand away from him. JJ latches his hold onto your other wrist and you find them pinned by your head, against the wall. He looms over you, pupils blown wide like he’s been smoking. No drug could ever compare.

You’d be lying if you weren’t intimidated by his stare. By the almost-there smirk that teases at his lips. By the way his hooded eyes lap over your body. You press your thighs together in desperate need of relief and JJ somehow notices. He slides his leg between yours and it takes everything to keep from whining. Bending at the knee, he rubs it leisurely against your cunt. You let out a relieve sigh. His eyes stay locked on yours the entire time as he continues rubbing his knee against you. Your hips start to move, thankful for something to help the borderline painful ache. 

“That feel good, baby?” he asks, a brow quirked. Your shaky breath is his answer. “You wanna get yourself off on my leg?”

“Hmm,” you whine, eyes slipping shut and head tumbling forward. You want to touch him but when you try to wriggle your hands out of his hold, it’s hopeless. That is, until one falls away so JJ can tuck a hooked finger under your chin. He coaxes your face back up, willing your eyes open. 

“Keep your fuckin’ eyes on me,” he darkly mumbles. It’s easier said than done. 

Soon, you’re bouncing yourself against his leg. Wanting whines intermix with JJ’s heavy breaths as he watches you slowly start to fall apart under him. 

“Fuck, I wanna taste you,” JJ mumbles. “Can I taste you?”

You nod desperately. Impatient, JJ falls to his knees and scrambles to pull your shorts and panties off. You step out of them and kick them away. You’re hardly concerned about anyone coming by the chateau. There’s no room in your mind for thoughts like that; not when JJ’s kissing up your legs and edging them apart to make room. One of your hands sinks into his hair as you watch him nestle his face between your thighs. Then, you’re staring at the ceiling. Your head falls back at the feel of his tongue lapping at your folds, teasing at your entrance. You let out an almost embarrassing moan. And then, JJ says one of the best things you’ve heard since the night in the chateau. 

“You’re so fuckin’ wet.”

His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs as he grips you, keeping your quivering legs apart. The cold rings on his fingers are a relief on your burning skin. Your face feels like it’s on fire. 

“‘M close,” you gasp. 

“Gonna come on my fuckin’ face?” JJ crudely taunts. He pulls away to look up at you, replacing his mouth with his fingers. They slide in and out easily, squelching loud. The sounds you make are uncontrollable. Somewhere between your fluttering eyelids, you make out JJ’s smirk as he furiously fucks you with his fingers. As your climax builds, your pitch raises.

“I know baby, I know…So good for me.”

You nearly collapse in on yourself when you fall apart. Your body spasms, head lolling forward and eyes clamping shut as you sigh out. One of your hands latches onto JJ’s shoulder. His other hand holds you steady by the hip as he works you through it. He leans forward to lap at some of the mess that dribbles down your legs. 

“Fuck,” he mutters. 

You push sloppily at his arm, overstimulated. He complies. Still blissed-out, JJ picks you up and carries you into the Chateau. His hard-on sits against your thigh through his many layers of clothes. On the pull-out sofa, dizzying thoughts starting to subside, you reconnect your lips with his. They’re sticky and salty with your taste. His shirt comes off first, then yours, and then his shorts join the mix.  

Fighting your way on top, JJ relaxes into the couch cushions and crumpled up blankets. He looks up at you practically giddy as you straddle just above his hips. His hands sit comfortably on your waist as he struggles to keep his gaze away from your tits. 

“Please tell me you've got a condom with you,” you half-chuckle as you leisurely rake your nails up and down his chest.

He grins boyishly and nods, leaning over to grab for his discarded shorts. On the third attempt, he finds one in a pocket. You roll your eyes. Of course. 

“Hey, you gotta be prepared,” JJ jokingly retorts. 

You shuffle back onto his thighs and work his boxers down tantalisingly slow. JJ chuckles breathlessly as you do, sighing with relief when he’s free of the restriction. You hold out a hand and he hands you the condom; you work it on with a brief hand job. Then you’re going to turn around, hands anchoring on JJ’s lower thighs, and he’s calling your name. You look at him over your shoulder. His cheeks are bright pink from all the efforts: it shouldn’t be as adorable as it is. 

“I wanna see your face,” he mumbles. 

Smiling, you nod and oblige, turning to face him once more. As you lower yourself onto him, your head rocks back and your teeth sink into your lower lip. The sting is an old friend as you work him into you. Leaning back onto his thighs, you ride him. JJ watches you, almost mesmerised, as you rock yourself against him. One of his hands slides down your thigh. 

“Feel so fuckin’ good, baby…” he slurs. You whine in response. Force yourself to move faster. “Fuck, doin’ so good for me.”

“JayJ,” you gasp.

The tip brushes against the spot inside you that has your toes curling. Eyes flying open, you work to hit that spot over and over again. JJ is a groaning mess beneath you. He mumbles barely intelligible praise amongst sighs of your name. As you feel yourself building, you lean forward and lever yourself with an arm on the bed. Your tits hang in JJ’s face and he catches your nipple in his mouth, and the stimulation pushes you over the edge for a second time. He follows quickly after, groaning quietly as he comes. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he pants, holding your body close to his. And for a while, the two of you breathe together, bodies still intertwined, minds finally on the same page. You open your eyes, looking down at JJ to find him smiling dopily up at you. You're pretty sure your expression is a perfect mirror.

Pulling yourself off him, you lay in the space beside him, eyes falling shut with the aftershocks of pleasure. JJ strokes at your hair, breathing just as heavy. “Holy shit.”

Through your closed eyes, you hear the shuffle of sheets as JJ throws away the condom in the trashcan near the doorway. He sighs as he flops onto his back. One of his arms wraps around you and encourages you to cuddle against him. The room stinks of sweat and sex. You nuzzle against his clammy skin contentedly. A kiss is pressed to your damp forehead. 

“You okay?”

“Mhm,” you hum. 

“Was that good for you?” he checks, still a little breathless. 

“I can’t believe you have to ask,” you snort. JJ pinches teasingly at your waist and you giggle. You gently smack his chest in retaliation. “Thank you for being patient with me.”

“Course. I mean, like I said outside,” JJ quietly says, “I knew this was something different for me. Something special, I guess.”

“You going soft on me, Maybank?” you tease. 

“I mean, gimme a minute and Junior’ll be back,” JJ jokes in return, glancing down at his crotch. He cracks up when you groan disapprovingly. 

As you the two of you lay there, tangled up, skin to skin, happy in the quiet of each other’s company, you take to thinking about what JJ said outside, and about what you said all those weeks back whilst fishing. Maybe love isn’t the worst feeling in the world. It can’t be. You feel it now, wrapped up in JJ, and the only thing it reminds you of is the smell of fresh cut grass, and the delicate beauty of a pile of bubbles in a bath, and the sound of crunching leaves in autumn. Wrapped up in JJ, you finally feel home for the first time since leaving Vancouver. So, no, it can’t be love that’s the worst feeling. It’s heartbreak. 

Strangely enough, even though you’d never wish to feel such an awful pain again, it doesn’t scare you the way it did before. Wouldn’t it be a waste to stop living for the fear of striking out? As JJ starts to snore - quiet, irregular little snores - you decide that, yes, it would be. Because then you’d miss the things worth living for. 

Then you’d miss JJ.

read the epilogue here!

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[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Lion's Pride [PART 2]

Gender Neutral Reader x Leona Kingscholar Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: There is a Lion living in your chicken coop. This sounds like the setup for a really bad joke--you wish it was.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3]

There were wards carved into the wooden pillars of your small cottage that had existed long before you’d made your home here, and they had an ancient, cloying, sort of magic to them that always left you feeling swaddled in bubble-wrap comfort—safe and secure. Even against angry Skin Changers banging down your door.

“You won’t be able to cross the threshold unless you’re invited,” you called, hoping it might deter him from actually destroying your entire porch.

There was an irritated growl from the other side that sounded an awful lot like he was probably still going to wind up trying to put his claws through the paneling, so you pulled the door open once more and stepped aside with purpose.

“You are not welcome,” you said, cheerful, before gesturing for him to try and step inside.

The Lion Man sneered at you, his ears flattening pissilly atop his head as if such a fluffy show of irritation could ever be intimidating (even if he wasn’t drenched down the bone), and he moved to make his way into your home. But when his sandaled foot reached the threshold, he stopped. You watched as his brow furrowed and something darkly frustrated slithered across his handsome face. There was no great arcane barrier or explosion of magical prowess—just a gentle shudder you could see creep along his limbs as he tried to force himself to move and couldn’t.

“Was there something you needed?” you asked, after what was perhaps a too-long moment of watching him stew in a mucky mix of rainwater and his own burbling rage.

He scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning up against the well-beaten doorway like the slouch was supposed to be intentionally casual, and not because he literally couldn’t move anywhere else.

“I need your help,” he said—demanded. He stared down his nose at you like you were some sort of unpleasant looking bug crawling across the floor.

“Alright,” you shrugged. “And…?”

“And what?” he demanded.

You rolled your eyes towards the ceiling and mercifully gave him through a silent count-of-ten to try and figure his shit out. When all he did was curl his lip at you like a petulant noble in court, you sighed and turned back on him with a cheerful, customer-service, quality smile.

“Thank you for your inquiry,” you chirped. “But I’m afraid I’m all full up for the day. Good afternoon.” And closed the door in his face yet again, but this time with a polite, little, wiggle-wave of your fingers as you went.

The next morning arrived altogether uneventfully. The rain had stopped sometime during the evening, and the lingering moisture had left your little homestead shrouded in a lovely cloud of fine, glistening, mists. You headed out into the soft chill with a pleasant hum and armfuls of treats for all your critters.

And then you noticed that there was an extra animal making itself at home in your little farmyard—one that you’d assumed had eventually given up and stomped back whichever way he’d came.

The Lion Man was sleeping in your chicken coop—perfectly contentedly, too. Which you wouldn’t have expected from a near mythical creature dripping in precious gems and who spoke with all the haughty self-assuredness of someone who’d never been told ‘no’ in any way that mattered.

You glared at him for a moment or two, hoping the searing irritation in your frown would be enough to poke him awake. But the Lion Man just laid there, cozy as a clam in his bed of shredded hay.

“You’re scaring Penelope,” you huffed, loud, and tossed a handful of seed by his feet.

The birds squawked and hopped up to peck brainlessly at the treats—unbothered by the predator lounging in their nest. The rustling of their feathers and tap-tap-tap of their little beaks at least seemed to finally wake the lazy Lion Man, and he opened one glowing, emerald, eye to glare balefully at you.

“They don’t seem like they give a shit,” he rumbled at you, voice still thick and syrupy with sleep. And indeed they did not, bopping around without a care in the world. Your aforementioned Penelope had even shuffled herself into the Lion’s lap to reach some of the seed that had fallen into the folds of fabric pooling at his hips.

“Why are you in my chicken coop?” you asked, as polite as you could manage. It still sounded like you were giving yourself a root canal.

He stood with a languid stretch and your birds clucked at him irritably for a moment before settling into the warm spot he’d vacated.

“It was raining,” he complained. Like it was obvious.

You pinched the bridge of your nose and tried again. “Why are you still here?”

“I already told you, herbivore,” he yawned. His long, white, canines, glinted in the morning sunlight. “I need your help.”

You sighed a miserable sort of sigh and fought the urge to dig your thumbs into your eyes.

“Forgive me for not jumping at the opportunity to assist the person—or, sorry, whatever it is you are—who abandoned me to die in a hole,” you harumphed, turning pointedly to start trudging back to your cottage.

“You got out, didn’t you?” the Lion griped, slipping forward to dog at your heels.

“No thanks to you!” you accused, jabbing a finger in his direction. He rolled his eyes and you could practically feel the steam leaking from your ears. “I helped you once already,” you pointed out testily. “Twice, if you count all the rations you gobbled up. And you still left me behind without a second thought! Why should I bother doing anything else for you?”

His face twisted up into something sour. The grin he shot your way was all sharp teeth and vinegar.

“Ahh, that’s right. I should have remembered—humans are only willing to barter their aid if they’re going to be repaid in kind. So. Tell me. What do you want then, hmm?” He scoffed. “Wealth? Power? Protection?”

You stopped at the door to your home and spun on him, angry.

“This has nothing to do with being repaid,” you seethed. “This is about decency!”

He scoffed again and you fought the urge to just hurl the entire basket of seed into his smug face. Because you were clearly the adult in this situation and needed to act as such. Sure, Mister Lion Dude looked close enough to your age, and you knew well enough of Magic Beasts to understand he was probably decades your senior—if not entire generations—but clearly a wealth of time left no account for manners. So you were going to have to step up and be the mature one here, and not waste an entire week’s worth of grit on the petty urge to upend it all over his stupid head.

With a heavy sigh that was more a gust of incompressible cursing than anything else, you placed the basket aside and turned to him with a stubborn pout.

“Alright, then. A deal—as you’re so insistent that you know exactly what every one of us stupid humans wants. I’ll help you again. If—” you declared, “—you say you’re sorry.”

He frowned, that righteous loathing giving way to a heady mix of even more irritable confusion.

“I have nothing to apologize for,” he snipped, turning his nose up at you.

“Then I have nothing to help you with,” you smiled, barbed, and swiveled to retreat into the safety of your cottage. “Good afternoon, Mister Lion. And please don’t eat my chickens.”

The Lion did not, in fact, eat any of your chickens. Or your geese, or ducks, or even the little rabbits that lived in the walls. He’d passed out beneath one of the overburdened fruit trees that grew along the edge of the forest and slept there for the entire evening—sprawled out amidst the roots like the rough bark was as comfortable as any other luxurious bed. He was still there now, snoring softly beneath the gentle, yellow, warmth of the morning sun.

You watched him for a few quiet moments, throat catching on a curious little hum. You wondered how long he was planning to skulk about your little homestead. You wondered how he wasn’t cold and miserable every night. And surely he must have been ravenous by now. It’s not like you’d seen him eat anything.

So you raided your icebox for leftovers and heated them on the stove until your cottage was filled with the cozy smells of well-seasoned meats and sweet, berry, tarts. You packed up the meal into a neat, little, box, wrapped it all up in a tea towel to seal in the heat, and then dropped the thing in his lap hard enough to startle him awake.

The Lion glowered down at the mesh of checkered fabric in obvious distaste. But then the scent of what was tucked within said wrappings must have made its way to his nose, because some of that ire seemed to melt away and he sniffed curiously at the air.

“Thank you for not decimating my livestock population,” you said.

“You told me not to,” he snapped, tail whipping angrily at his rear. He reached out to pick at the folded edges of the parcel with a perplexed sort of expression twisting at his mouth.

“And you didn’t,” you responded with a shrug. “It’s appreciated.”

With that, you left to go about your daily business. Your garden needed tending, and one of the corners of the fence needed a new patch to keep it upright. You also hadn’t seen much of your foxes since Lord Lion had decided to make himself at home, and you wound up spending far too much time crawling around on your hands and knees—looking under bushes and into holes as you waved around a juicy chunk of roast beef in hopes of tempting them out.

There was the telltale crunch crunch of someone stepping through the dirt to stand at your side, and you glanced up to see the Lion Man looming over you with a heavy scowl—arms crossed loose over his chest.

“Is this what you do? Everyday?” he asked, sounded insultingly incredulous. His face was twisted up into a sneer that was entirely unimpressed. “Crawl through the muck like a worm?”

“Not every day,” you said after a moment of consideration. “And worms don’t have limbs. I’m more like a cockroach, maybe.”

He scoffed. “And you have the nerve to think that you’re too good to help me.”

“I never said that,” you frowned, sitting back on your heels and brushing some of the dust and grass from your pants. “I just said you needed to apologize first.”

“I’m not sorry for anything,” he said again, just as put out as before.

You waved a finger at him in a gentle tut-tut. “Ah, but we’re making progress. See, earlier you said there was nothing to apologize for at all. Now at least you’re recognizing that there is, in fact, an anything.”

You swayed your way back to your feet before he could launch into another rant about your mortal ridiculousness.

“A friend of mine hunted down a White Moor Stag last week,” you said, brushing the last of the grit from your knees. “It’s supposed to be delicious, and I’ve had some of the cuts marinating for a while now. You see, it’s this whole mess with orange zest, and molasses, and these little Red Eye chilies that I’ve been growing for ages now—”

The more you rambled, the more constipated he looked. So you cut yourself off and rubbed at the back of your neck, just toeing the wrong side of embarrassment.  

“R-Right. Anyways. I’m going to be cooking some of it up tonight to try. So—Well,” you waved your hand awkwardly around your head in a gesture that even you weren’t entirely sure made any kind of sense. “If you apologize before then, you’re more than welcome to come in and have dinner.”

He scoffed. “That’s not exactly a worthwhile offer when we both know you’ll just end up bringing me some tomorrow either way.”

You sighed.

“Probably,” you admitted. “Well. See you in the morning then if you’re still around, I guess.”

“You’re terribly accommodating to unwanted guests,” he sneered after you as you climbed the set of stairs that made up your teeny porch, and you waved him off with a grumble.

What was so wrong with being civil, huh?! You liked to think that your little cottage was homey and welcoming. You took in weird guests all the time! And you liked being known as that awkward but friendly recluse who could offer a wandering adventurer a fresh set of laundered clothes and a good meal. It was how you’d met all your other friends. Odd as they all were. In fact, if you were being perfectly honest, in comparison to some of your other compatriots, Mister Lion really probably was the most societally acceptable definition of ‘normal’ out of the bunch. Which was—not to rag on your dear friends or anything—but that was certainly… Uh…

You spent the afternoon shuffling about your kitchen, and then a long evening searing the meat to perfection. It tasted absolutely divine—totally ‘making noises not meant for polite company’ and ‘curling your toes under the table’ levels of yummy. You happily set aside some portions for your friends whenever they inevitably stopped by (with an extra-large and prettily packaged one for your Hunter), and then packed a small box of leftovers to set at the front of the icebox. Just as the Lion had said you would. Because unlike him, you were nice. And kind. And really didn’t want him to get hungry enough to start eyeing your chickens in earnest.

The next morning when you ventured beyond your front door, you noticed something a bit odd.

Your brow scrunched and you shifted the little box of meats into one hand so you could use the other to poke around your very neat looking garden.

“I don’t remember weeding this yesterday…”

Nor had you had time to fix the fence amidst all your fox chasing. Or prune the berry bushes. And normally your trimming was not quite so, err, ugly, lopsided, like the work of a toddler with safety scissors imperfect. More of a scorching, really, than any kind of clipping. There was a soft dusting of glittering, arcane, sand scattered along their roots.

The Lion snorted and snatched the food from your hands with a scowl. It was a weird, tiny, twisty expression—and way more performative than he’d probably intended it to be.

“Then you must be even stupider than I thought.”

“Huh,” you mused, plopping yourself down on one of the low-cut stumps and resting your chin in your palm. You tried to hide the amused tick of your lips behind your fingers. “I hadn’t thought that would be possible. What’s lower than a base zero?”

“Negative numbers exist,” he sneered and sat cross-legged in the grass across from you to devour his plundered meal.

You hummed and rifled around in your pockets. You unearthed another wrapped treat and passed it his way.

“Thank you for cleaning up,” you said.

He scoffed and took a too-large chomp out of his food, eyes averted towards the ground. “Whatever.”

The Lion followed you around the rest of the day—always at a distance, and always with a perpetual cloud of scathing comments settled about him like a swarm of buzzing bees. You just hummed through the streams of pessimistic angst and continued your chores. Mostly he just watched you toil away. Occasionally you’d toss him a berry from a bush you were replanting, or share some bites of the granola you’d tucked into one of your pockets. He accepted each treat with an upturned nose and absolute indignity. But he ate each and every morsel, and you noticed him go back to swipe another berry when he thought you weren’t looking.

He still outright refused to apologize, so you took your dinners alone. But he did help you move some thorny branches, and didn’t even complain too much when Penelope the Chicken made herself a nice bed in his lap. You brought him one of your spare blankets—a big, old, fluffy thing that you’d once hoped would be a bit magical, as you’d spun it together from some enchanted wool. It was not, which was disappointing. But it was still warm and pretty, so that was fine.

The Lion scoffed at it, but you just left the folded-up mess of soft fluff by his side with a pointed pat-pat-pat before returning to your own cozy bed for the night.

When the sun rose the next day, you woke to a familiar, scraggly, redhead at your door. Ace smiled at you through a layer of grime thicker than the shirt on his back, and you immediately herded him out towards the backyard to dunk him in the pond.

“What did you even do?” you asked, upending another bucket of water over his head. “You look like someone tied you to the back of a horse and dragged you the entire way here.”

He shivered petulantly. “I didn’t do anything! I swear! And nothing happened!”

Splash went the next bucket.

“Nothing I didn’t deserve,” he corrected, and you handed him a towel as a reward for his vague attempt at honesty.

Eventually Ace managed to weasel his way out of the frigid pond and into a fresh set of clothes. He sighed, content, and set about lounging in the sun like a fat, lazy, tom cat. Which, speaking of lazy, lounging, cats…

You glanced around your little farm, but your new Lion companion wasn’t anywhere to be found. Huh. How strange. You retreated back into your home to collect some of your leftovers before returning to your friend. You carefully balanced one of the boxes atop the fence as you went, just in case the Lion did come around looking for a snack.

You handed the other to Ace, and his mouth nearly started watering at the sight.

“No Deuce this time?” you asked, peering back out towards the dirt road—half expecting to see the warrior sprawled out in a ditch or something just a few paces down the path.

“Nah,” Ace sighed, kicking up his feet and letting out a heaving sigh that sounded like it weighed more than the thick, traveler’s, pack usually strapped across his shoulders. “He stopped back in town to drop off a letter for his mom.”

Ace moved to dig into the food in earnest, and you lit up at his enthusiasm.

“This is from that Stag,” you beamed, and his face went a bit pale. “Remember? The one we could barely fit through the shed door even when we got all six of its antlers off? I finally got around to cooking it.”

“That Hunter brought this?” he asked, looking more and more uncomfortable by the second.

“I mean, who else could kill a White Moor Stag?” you laughed, and Ace’s expression was shifting into something that looked a bit too close to sea-sickness for someone sitting in a soft patch of grass in the heart of a landlocked prefecture.

You reached forward to pluck up a bit of one of the juicier steaks between your fingers and shoved it firmly into his mouth. The indignant spluttering that followed rapidly melted into near moaning, and whatever hesitance was brewing in that empty skull of his dissipated in the face of such a pure, culinary, masterpiece.

You leaned forward eagerly when he began to shovel the stuff into his mouth like a dying man inhaling his last meal. “How’s it taste? I tried using rinds this time in my marinade instead of just the orange pulp, and also tried whole ginger slices rather than the ground up kind, and—"

“Yeah, yeah,” Ace waved you off around a mouthful of half-chewed meat. “Food magic, and fancy things, and whatever. Can’t you just let me enjoy this stupid, terrifying, meal in peace—”

A clawed hand slammed down over the top of the makeshift lunch box with an echoing ­­thwack, and the redhead lurched backwards with a startled squawk.

“If you’re not going to bother listening, you don’t deserve to eat it,” the Lion huffed, snatching the portion for himself and gracefully folding his unfairly lithe limbs to plop down at your side.

“You’re one to talk,” you blinked, taken aback at his sudden appearance. And blatant hypocrisy. Like. Come on, dude.

He was close—far closer than he was normally willing to get to you and your human cooties. Practically slotted up against you from hip to shoulder. His tail curled up and around your wrist and you could feel the tip of it twitching irritably against the soft skin at the heart of your palm. That aloof, emerald, glower of his was fixed on Ace with just a touch too much ire to really be considered indifferent, and his ears were pressed down into stiff, flat, lines atop his head. You blinked again, wide eyed and a bit confused. Huh. Maybe he just wasn’t a fan of strangers.

“When have I ever interrupted one of your ridiculous tangents?” the Lion snipped at you, pointedly popping the thickest, juiciest, slice of the bunch into his mouth. It shredded like tissue paper between his canines and Ace audibly gulped.

“You make faces at me,” you argued petulantly, and immediately felt like a toddler.

“But I always listen,” he shot back, equally as bitchy. And also… surprisingly earnest. Even if he was being as miserable about that sincerity as he was about everything else.

His green eyes flicked down to meet yours for a moment—two, three, four—before swiveling back towards Ace and narrowing all over again. And yeah, you’d assumed that the Lion had looked irritated with you plenty of times before, but the sneer he was giving Ace was all sorts of unpleasant. Rivaled only perhaps by that open, spiteful, hatred when he’d turned to bear his fangs at the metal spike trap twining around his legs and keeping him trapped in that pit.

His lip twitched up, almost like a snarl, before he continued, “Even an herbivore like you deserves that at least.”

Then the Lion reached around you to snatch the checkered tea towel wrapping from its place discarded at your friend’s feet, jostling you ridiculously all the while and practically bullying you into his lap with his flailing elbows in the process. He idly wiped the mess of sauces and drippings from his fingers before tossing the fabric back into the dirt—this time at his feet. You rolled your eyes at the petty theatrics and shot Ace one of your patented ‘man, what a day, am I right?’ looks, that he responded to with an expression that looked more like someone had just punched him in the nuts and threatened to wear his skin as a suit than it did any sort of real life, rational, human, emotion.   

The Lion’s arm tightened from its place at your waist—where he’d lazily left it after that initial reach around. You settled back against him with a good natured, if exasperated, huff. At least he was warm. And honestly a much nicer seat than the damp ground.

“Uhm—” Ace choked. Cleared his throat. Tried again. Choked harder. “Who—Who’s this?”

“Oh,” you hummed, pensive. “Actually. That’s a very good question. I don’t really know.”

The Lion Man practically groaned into your neck. Ace looked like he wanted to put your head through a wall.

“This entire time,” the Lion hissed. You could feel the imprint of his canines bumping up against your skin as he grit his teeth. “You didn’t even know who I was?”

“No?” you frowned, confused. And then, rightfully indignant, “It’s not like you ever introduced yourself!”

He pulled himself back with a sigh that sounded like it was the only thing standing in between a gruesome murder and whatever fragile sanity he’d managed to wrangle together. He straightened—posture going rigid and regal. The claws at your waist flexed into the breezy fabric of your shirt and his tail tightened along your arm.

“I am Leona Kingscholar,” he declared, proud. “Second Son of the Sunset Savannas. Heir to the King's Roar.”

Ace started choking all over again, and let out what sounded vaguely like a strangled ‘holy fucking shit.’ You waited a moment, shifting through the catalogue of names and places in your head before drawing a complete blank. So you simply nodded as best as you could while squashed up so close against him and offered your own name politely in return.

Ace gawked at you. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

You frowned. “What are you talking about? I was just being polite!”

“This is—He’s—!” your redheaded friend just barely managed to splutter out past his obvious terror. “Leona Kingscholar is a Warlord. He’s an ancient terror—He’s—He’s a General, and a monster, and the fucking Changeling Prince whose family rules over this entire goddamn continent, you absolute fucking halfwit!”

Your brain seemed to evacuate the premises all at once, and you were left gaping like a fish out of water. Mouth opening and closing as if of its own devices. Just. Not a thought passing behind those wide, horrified, eyes of yours. Eventually you managed to tilt your gaze up and up until the back of your head thunked against your guest’s shoulder. You stared at him in outright consternation and he simply arched a handsome brow, entirely unimpressed by your apparently lackluster deductive reasoning.

“…is that all true?” you asked haltingly. He rolled his eyes at you.

“More or less.”

“… and you’ve been sleeping in my chicken coop.”

Leona snorted. “I have.”

You turned back to Ace, a creeping sort of dread slithering through your gut and clawing up your spine.

“Oh no,” you said. With feeling.

“Oh fucking no indeed,” he wailed, and dropped his head into his hands.

.

.

.

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Overtime 3

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss, Mr. Hansen, runs you ragged but you find solace in an unexpected friend.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, Jake Jensen.

Author’s Note: This one is dedicated to my dearest @thezombieprostitute

Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

It isn’t until a few minutes after Jensen goes that you dare to taste the latte. You’re still wary of his generosity but why should you be? The few times you’ve interacted with him, he’s only ever been helpful. Yet, that is his job. He’s supposed to fix the printer and figure out why your cursor keeps flicking into the corner. 

It isn’t as cinnamon-y as you expect, in a good way. Not in that way that burns your tongue and makes you scrunch up your lips. You savour the first sip and make sure not to devour it in one gulp. You’ll nurse it for as long as you can. A little sweetener to get through the day. 

You’re surprised as Jensen returns. He's much quicker than you expect. You sit up as he proclaims, “tada!” and puts the mouse on your desk. The box is still shrink-wrapped and brand new. “Put it on the company account and all.” 

“Oh gosh, Jensen, thank you so much,” you grab it and look it over. “You’re a life saver.” 

“Hey, it’s no worries. How’s the coffee?" He hooks his thumbs in his khaki pockets and pushes his shoulders up. You peek up at him then back at the cup. 

“Pretty good,” you admit. “I don’t want to drink it too fast.” 

“Makes sense. Well, if you’re ever down at The Grind, I definitely recommend the salted caramel mocha. That’s my favourite. Oh, and on Thursdays, they have the smores brownies... I really didn’t have a sweet tooth before I started going there,” he reaches to rub the back of his neck. “Um, do you like sweet stuff? You like cookies? Cake?” 

He rambles, not giving you a moment to answer. It’s endearing. He runs his hand up behind his head then brings it around to fix his glasses. 

“Sorry, I’m... blabbering. I just... I’m glad you like it, you know?” 

“I do, thanks,” you chew your lower lip.  

“Critter, where the fuck--” Hansen’s voice blasts through the door as he rips it open. “Huh?” He scuffs out and scoffs as he tilts his head, jutting out a foot as he arches a brow, “well, hello there, JJ Jizzface,” he struts up to the corner of your desk, “and what on god’s shit brown heap are you doing here? I didn’t file a ticket.” 

Jensen stands straight as he faces Hansen. In an instant, his demeanour changes. His affability fades behind his staunch veneer. 

“I don’t need a ticket to be here,” Jensen rebuffs. 

“Oh, you don’t? So why the fuck are you bugging my assistant? I mean, pest that you are.” 

They stare at each other, unflinching. You pick at the lip of the cup nervously and watch. You clear your throat and hesitantly stand. 

“Mr. Hansen, sir, I got you a new mouse,” you slide the box towards him. 

“Good fucking job, critter,” he doesn’t look away from Jensen. “Go set it up.” 

“I can do that. It is my job--” Jensen offers.

“She can handle plugging in a damn dongle,” Hansen insists. “I’m sure you have no idea what to do with yours.” 

Jensen doesn’t say a word. You reach for the mouse cautiously. 

“So why don’t you piss off, tech jockey?” Hansen snarls. 

“With due respect,” Jensen says sharply. “I’m a manager too so I don’t need to take orders from you, Hansen.” 

“With due fucking respect, which is goddamn none,” your boss retorts, “you can suck my nuts.” 

He smirks and shakes his head. His eyes catch on your desk and he hums as he turns. He scoops up your latte and give it a sniff. He drinks and the foam dusts his short mustache. You just stare, trying not to deflate at his thievery. You didn’t get donuts in the break room and you forgot your thermos, and now, your latte has been accosted. 

“I’ll get this set up,” you take the mouse. “Thanks for the help, Jensen.” 

“Mission accomplished, four eyes, now shoo,” Hansen snips and slurps again. 

Jensen doesn’t leave right away but you don’t stay and watch. You only know he’s gone by the familiar squeak of his sneakers. You go into Mr. Hansen’s office and tear through the plastic. As you open the flap of the box, the door slams and signals his entrance. 

“So, why the fuck is that googly-eyed fuck hanging around your desk?” He growls. 

“Sir, he got your new mouse--” 

“Oh, and what did you do for that? You give him a smile? You show some cleavage? Is there anything under that sweater to show?” He spits. 

You focus on your task and slide the batteries into the mouse. You snap the cover on and put it on the desk. You take out the dongle and plug it into the port. Mr. Hansen looms closer and stands at the corner, glaring at you. 

“Sorry, sir, he was only being helpful--” 

“Fucking helpful. You seen that cuck? He’s hoping for a peek at your ass. Fucking geek.” He swigs the coffee and chokes, slamming down the empty cup. “Ugh, that was way too sugary, critter. Go get me an americano from Esther’s.” 

You shove the packaging into the box and grab it along with the empty cup. You nod and look at Mr. Hansen. His blue eyes are like ice. 

“Yes, sir, I’ll go right now.” 

“I fucking mean it, critter,” his voice shakes dangerously. “When I give you something to do, you do it.” 

“I understand, Mr. Hansen.” 

“Do you understand? Do you get what your job is? It’s me, critter. I tell you what the fuck to do and you scurry of to do it. Skitter, skitter, little critter.” He grips the desk as he leans in and his nostrils flare. “Now, I need to wash the taste of that garbage out of my mouth so go and get me some real fucking coffee.” 

You put your head down and leave. It’s your fault. You screwed up. You shouldn’t have transferred the call but you didn’t realise before you hit transfer that it was Melora. You should have screened her like you usually do but you’d been trying to figure out the new Adobe update. 

Stupid, you’re stupid. You should know to just do what you’re told and nothing extra. 

[meg-soul]

LITTLE CRITTERS | Y. ITADORI

summary ☆: yuuji sees a spider and his gf comes and saves the day!

wc: 275

warnings: fluff, crack, v short and sweet, spider, if you have arachnophobia ur like yuuji :)

not proofread I’m lazy -_- sos

“Ah shit!” you heard a small scream come from the room next to you. “Yuji you good?” you ask walking into the room just to look at your boyfriend yuji itadori holding his foot up in the air hopping around with his face scrunched up.

“the fuck did you do?” you asked trying to imitate sympathy in your voice, you knew your boyfriend was clumsy so over time you got used to it, whether it be a small paper cut or when he broke his arm last year attempting a backflip in which he failed miserably landing you both in the ER waiting to see the consequences of his antics.

“Stubbed my toe on the stupid radiator, will you kiss it better y/n please” he begged with puppy doll eyes to which you rolled yours in return,

“Go near those cheezits? not for 1 million dollars, sorry babe but your on your own for this one, how did you even manage to stub your toe on the radiator, it’s like five inches off the ground?” he started blushing and scratching the back of his neck at the awkward question.

“umm there was a spider…” he looked down “and I panicked and ran only to stub my freaking toe and it hurts.” he cried to which you only laughed. He exaggerated a hurt look “So you don’t love me then” he said sarcastically.

“You know I love you yuuji” you smiled “but do you want me to put the spider outside or are you just gonna cry about your toe?” he nodded his head quickly, blush apparent. Your boyfriend could defeat curses but shit himself whenever a tiny bug was near, you giggled to yourself catching the spider underneath a cup waving it in his face as you left the room.

He apologised and thanked you calling you “the bravest gf ever!!!” and gave you a soft kiss on the lips and you smiled into his embrace.

[aurora-starwars]

Hello, could I request a Kylo ren gn!reader (romantic). The reader and Kylo where old friends at Luke’s Jedi academy and they see each other for the first time in years. Starts with angst and ends with fluff cus I’m a sucker for happy feel good endings!

Old Friends Bring Up Old Feelings

Pairing: Kylo Ren x gn!Jedi!reader

Summary: Kylo and reader, who were friends at the Jedi academy, reunite

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: slight angst, slight crying, nothing to bad, mostly fluff-ish

A/n: I feel like it has been so long, I am trying to get through a few requests but I have been so busy lately! Sorry y'all. <333 And I just got my wisdom teeth taken out so that was a lot. Anyway thank you for the request! Hope you enjoy! <33333

Masterlist

It was a brisk morning on Ossus, the sun was slowly rising over the mountains and animals of the planet finally quieted down. The air was misty, cold, and unwelcoming to the young Jedi who had just gotten up. [Name] was hoping to meditate that morning, but with the noise coming from the Jedi temple, it was increasingly less inviting.

[Name] started towards the forest around the temple, hoping to get away from all the sound. Their meditation would go best in the tranquillity of the forest. Subtle crunches underfoot could be heard as they got farther and farther from the temple. The voices of young initiates that were once shrill, now cease to ring in [Name]’s ears.

[Name] began to slow their pace, deepened their breathing and listened for the world around them. The leaves shaking on the trees as the wind ruffled them together, the small sounds of critters in the forest, the small bugs buzzing, the sound of rushing footprints—

“Hey.”

[Name] nearly jumped out of their skin, snapping their eyes open to find the eyes of Ben Solo looking back at them. They held a hand over their heart to show their shock.

“Whatcha doing out here?” Ben smiled, ignoring their frazzled state.

“Would you be nicer about sneaking up on people? I was—”

“You were what? Meditating? While walking? You should have seen me coming,” Ben walked in tandem with [Name], only a foot from their side.

[Name] shook their head, eyes looking back forward again as they tried to regulate their breathing. The forest seemed to go forever.

“I was trying to find a spot to meditate, is that so wrong?” [Name] asked, raising an eyebrow, as smirk prominent on their face.

“Oo, I will come with you. I need some peace away from the temple,” Ben stated, ignoring their question with a smile.

“Yeah, I guess you can come along.”

“You guess? It wasn’t an offer, I am coming. And you can’t get enough of me.”

[Name] looked over to see the smug look on Ben’s face, to which they shook their head fondly.

They reached a clearing in the forest with two, surprisingly dry, logs [Name] made plans to sit on.

“Says the person that followed me all the way out here,” [Name] took a seat on one of the logs, crossing their legs in front of them.

Ben sat on the leg opposite to them, so that he was facing [Name]. He watched them closely as he crosses his legs.

“Maybe I can’t get enough of you,” Ben offered lowly, hoping that the Jedi initiate across from him didn’t hear.

[Name] watched as his eyes cast down, his brown eyes holding so much innocence in his youth. Those were the eyes [Name] knew since they were young, since they were both younger than they are now. When they both had just come to Master Skywalker’s Jedi Temple and had nobody but each other.

[Name] smiled to themself softly, watching as Ben’s eyes closed, watching as he fell into his deep meditation. He had always been strong in the force.

“Good,” [Name] closed their eyes, falling into the embrace of the force once again.

A sudden crashing sound shook the Millennium Falcon, knocking [Name] from their meditation. Alarms from the ship started blaring, the ship receiving a few more reverberating shakes before [Name] got a comm from the pilot. Chewbacca’s strained voice rang through their comm device, signalling to [Name] that the ship had been hit by several blasts from a First Order Star Destroyer and are now being hailed by them.

[Name] cursed under their breath, it was just them and Chewy on the ship, what could they want? There was nothing of importance, what could the First Order want from them?

[Name] moved to stand just above the entrance of the ship. They felt the shake of the ship landing, a sign that they had been hailed on the Star ship and was about to be boarded. After several moments of pressurizers shifting and adjusting, the ramp opened up and several stormtroopers flooded the Millennium Falcon, surrounding [Name].

Two on either side of them grabbed [Name] by their arms and practically dragged them out of the ship, although [Name] didn’t put up much of a fight, their grip was still strong. [Name] kept their eyes forwards, not daring to show their fear or thoughts, choosing to focus in with the Force to see what their eyes could not.

Once they made it to the bottom of the ramp, [Name] found a dark figure standing directly in front of them, several feet away. The stormtroopers holding their sides stopped moving, letting them go with a rough release.

Looking back at the figure, [Name] found that there was familiarity in this dark looming presence. A familiarity in the way they stood, the way they held themself. A familiarity in the Force, an intensity, a passion [Name] had only felt once. The darkness surrounding this figure was made of their own grief, the loss of someone, or even, one’s self.

After another moment of silence, another moment of studying this person, this person who seemed to be studying [Name], it hit them.

They know who that is.

A hand slowly comes into [Name]’s vision, a soft hand with calluses from training. Ben’s hand. [Name] looks up to see Ben’s smiling face. Taking his hand, [Name] finds that his smile looks more like a smirk now and he starts to get into a fighting stance.

“Ready to go again?” Ben’s ignited his lightsaber and trains his eyes onto his opponent, [Name] standing there watching him closely.

They widen their stance and ignite their own lightsaber, only smiling before leaping into battle.

“Hey, hey, hey. What’s wrong?” Ben’s voice is soft, hushed and full of panic. He’s kneeled next to [Name]’s shaking body. The tears leaving their body are heavy and abundant, leaving them heaving, curled into themselves.

When [Name] tries to speak, they find themselves incapable as they try and fail to catch a breath. Ben’s arms curl around their shaking body, pulling them into the warmth of his body.

“It’s okay, you’re safe. I’m here, I’m here,” He mutters gently into [Name]’s hair, holding their body just a little bit closer. Just a little bit tighter.

“What do you mean you could have more power?” [Name]’s voice rebounded off the trees around them.

“Snoke said that I have potential, that I could be more!” Ben’s voice became low but strong.

[Name] put their face in their hands, trying to rub out the frustration, before looking back up at Ben with a pointed stare.

“More than what? More than what we are now?” [Name] questioned loudly. “I am not sure what he is promising you, but I am sure that you don’t want to be a part of it!

“You don’t know what I want,”

“Apparently not if listening to Sith lords is what you want,”

“[Name], are you with me or against me?” Ben’s voice was weaker now, less sure. He held his hand out, hoping [Name] would take it.

“Ben, I will never be on the Dark side. And I would hope you wouldn’t either,” [Name]’s words seemed to reverberate through Ben’s skull, like they could echo in there forever.

Echoes of their past seemed to all rush back, filling [Name]’s mind with memories. As they looked into Kylo Ren’s mask, they felt his fear in the Force, his confusion, and most importantly, Ben.

They felt his recognition, he knew who they were. They felt his internal battle, this isn’t what Ben wants. They felt the dark side, but they also felt the light. Ben was still in there, and he was just begging to be let out.

[Name] took a careful step forward, a pleading look in their eyes as they looked at the mask man before them. Many stormtroopers lifted their blasters at the movement, to which Kylo signalled for them to lower them.

Kylo watched carefully, slowly reaching to his mask, pressing the release at the back. The faint hiss of his helmet seemed to echo in the vast hanger of the Star Destroyer. Despite the many stormtroopers surrounding the two of them, it was completely quiet, so when Kylo’s helmet hit the ground, the sound rang out across the hanger.

[Name]’s eyes quickly scanned Kylo’s face. Ben’s face. There was a scar, looked quite fresh, reaching from once side to the other, that was unfamiliar, but everything else was almost the same as the last time [Name] saw him. He looked a little older, more tired. But he still had the same eyes as Ben, the same eyes that held so much hope. Ben Solo’s eyes.

“Ben…” [Name] whispered. It was soft, unintentional but a plea none the less. [Name] wanted Ben back. Back in their arms, where he belonged.

That was all it took. One word and Kylo had moved from his looming position, running towards [Name] with a relieved look on his face. [Name] wasted no time in meeting him in the middle, running to the man they missed so much.

They met in the middle in a frantic grabbing of each other. Their hug was tight, warm, and freedom. Tears streaked down [Name]’s face as a received sigh came out of Ben.

“I missed you,” [Name] whispered into his ear.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Ben muttered sadly, holding them tighter.

“I can’t get enough of you,” [Name] smiled sadly, relief washing over them.

“Good,”

As they separate, they look around to see the First Order watching them, reminding them of where they are. [Name] looks down at Ben’s hand, before taking a breath and stepping back.

“Ben Solo, will you come with me?” [Name] held their hand out for him to take. “Will you leave the Order for me?”

Ben looks around, his brows furrowing before looking back at [Name]’s hand. He knew what this meant. There was no coming back from this, no going back to the Order. This meant joining the rebellion, facing everyone he has left and everyone he had wronged. But it also meant, [Name]. And he would take that trade off any day.

Grabbing their hand, he smiled at [Name]. This was the start of his life again, and he was not going to make the same mistakes again.

[Name] smiled back at him, tightening their grip on their hands before quickly turning around and running towards the Millennium Falcon.

“Chewy, get us out of here!”

The stormtroopers, who just seemed to come out of a daze, started to run after the two Jedi, shooting at the old ship. The two of them sent a Force pulse at the army as they were half way up the ramp, pushing the army back and stunning them for a few minutes. Closing the ramp, Chewbacca began the takeoff sequence. And as the two former Jedi initiates looked at each other, they were sent into hyperspace, leaving their connection to the First Order behind.

[Name] smiled at Ben, eyes shining.

“You picked me,” [Name] said, eyes fixed on the brown of Ben’s.

“Something I should have done a long time ago,” Ben put simply, taking as step towards [Name], pulling them in by the waist.

Ben looked between their eyes before pulling them in for a sweet kiss. His soft lips made for an awfully good apology, [Name] figured. When they pulled apart, they couldn’t help the smiles that came on their faces.

They pulled each other for another embrace, this one of a promise. A promise to never leave each other. All of a sudden the felt another figure attach to them, this one a lot bigger and fluffier. Chewy let out a holler of something and they both laughed and let him join in. Maybe being away from everything isn’t what they need.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! If you want to be apart of any tag-lists let me know! <3333333

Tag-list: @luvlykrispy

Master List

[lemony-and-zesty]

dUDE HITMAN JD AU?? WHY HAVE I NEVER THOUGHT OF THAT

Anyway- i love this sm i have a few questions heree cause ugh

1. How well does John handle the killing? Like- does the blood make him gag and so guilty, or does he feed off the thrill of hunting down and killing someone because of his adventurous spirit??

2. Does he have fellow hitman friends or is he a lone hitman who only engages with the boss and does business and then thats it?

3. What weapon does he use? I mean- i think usually a hitman uses a gun- but do u have other ideas regarding his weapon?

I feel like i have more questions but THESE ARE A FEW FOR NOW-

Keep it up 👍👍

HEHEHE KICKING MY FEET AND GIGGLING I am having so much fun with this 🥹🥹!!!

These are such good questions I’m sobbing!!

1. Oh mannn I think that he becomes pretty desensitized after a while, he’s been doing this so long that it’s super normal for him. I think as a kid he was extremely hemophobic, like,, a faint at the sight of blood type. It wasn’t often that Pop trolls would even see blood, so he never got the chance to work through that before Brozone broke up.

Unfortunately, JD had to learn to get over it pretty quick. Starving to near death will do that to you. Im thinkin that with how much time he spent alone in the Neverglades he found himself struggling to find food and it got to a point where he started eating bugs and other critters pretty earlier into that decade.

As for troll blood? He not fully over it. He may be desensitized, but every once in a while he’ll find himself keeled over a toilet or trash can. Showers are rough cause he’ll start cleaning the blood of so roughly that he’ll scratch himself - which leads to more blood and the cycle continues. But that’s mostly on really bad days.

He can never quite shake that all-encompassing guilt he feels though. No matter how used to it he gets.

2. He’s a loner. Much like og JD, he prefers isolation to social interaction, and I think he’s solidly worse in this universe. When the only positive interaction you have is with a boss that constantly berates and treats you like dirt, I think you find yourself gravitating towards being alone.

3. He mostly sticks to close-combat weapons, ie his machete and spiked glove, but he also has those sticky bombs we see in the movie - except the ones hitman JD has are a lot less,, glittery.

AGAIN!! Thank you SO much for the questions I am having so much fun with this!!!!

[giggly-squiggily]

Challenge Accepted (Buddy Daddies)

*runs in and cartwheels into a candy apple display* HI-*crashes* I'm a little sleep deprived as of writing this intro but we're gonna run with it! Heyo everyone! I bring you today some good ol' Buddy Daddies! Besides writing sentence starters and dabbles for them- I haven't had the chance to write a full fic yet. That changes today!

Huge huge thank you to @thatbigbisexual29 for this brilliant idea- Thank you for giving me the inspo I needed and patience to finally write this thing! :D I hope y'all like it!

Summary: Miri comes home and asks a world changing question: Which of her two Papa's is tougher? Kazuki comes up with a grand plan to find out!

~~~

“Which one of you is tougher?”

The question made both men pause, Kazuki standing by the counter while Rei sat comfortably against the couch. Sharing a look, the blonde turned to their daughter with a huffed laugh. “What do you mean?”

“Taiga said his papa was super tough! He said both his mama and his papa are tough!” She stood up, raising her arms over her head in emphasis. “I told him my papa’s are tough too, but then he asked which one was more!”

“What did you tell him?” Rei asked. Kazuki shot him a look. They really shouldn’t encourage this-

“I told him Papa Rei’s tougher!” She beamed, making her other papa gap in shock. Rei barely fought down a smirk.

“What? Papa Rei? Tougher? I’m so much tougher!” Kazuki scurried over, flexing his biceps. “Your Papa Kazuki can carry both you and Rei whenever we need to get somewhere quickly!”

“I can do that too.” Rei pointed out, earning another look.

“Plus, who’s the one who gets all the critters out when they wander in?”

“Papa Rei.” Miri said just as Rei said “Me.”

Kazuki blanched. Okay- maybe Rei was better than him at catching bugs. “Well…I can cook!” “And we have stomachs of steel because of it.” Rei shrugged. Miri patted her belly in emphasis.

“Oh you- You love my cooking!” Kazuki rolled his eyes. “We’re not getting anywhere with this. What we need is a proper competition.”

“Oh?” Miri and Rei asked at the same time, one more tired than the other.

“Yeah! A challenge to see who’s the toughest papa!” The blonde grinned, rolling up his sleeves. “And I know just how we’re gonna figure it out!”

~~~

“Come on, Rei- you know you wanna break.” Kazuki cooed with devilish delight down at the squirming brunette beneath him, fingers creeping up his shirt and trailing along the curve of his belly. “Just say you give up, and it’ll all be over.”

The assassin merely flattened his lips in response, raising his quivering chin against the relentless waves of sensitivity threatening to drown him. “N-No! N-Never! Mmm!” He arched, the arms behind his head flexing but never quite dropping.

It was admittedly rather childish; the whole tickling thing. Still-There wasn’t much more the two could compete on given the circumstances. Both were similar in terms of speed and agility; and testing things like defusing a bomb and firing aim were simply undoable with Miri in the picture.

And yet- it was effective; Kazuki could feel Rei’s resistance slowly melt away with each flick of his fingers, the way his muscles tightened like bowstrings as the blonde traced over a particularly ticklish spot. He could have ended it all there- gone straight for Rei’s armpits and had him shooting his arms down with a shriek.

But that wasn’t much fun now, was it?

“So stubborn~ What a tough guy you are.” Kazuki cooed, giggling when Rei tried to glare. “Nah ah ah- no faces like that!” He raked his fingers higher, giving his bottom ribs a scratch. “Give me a smile.”

“Mmmph!” Rei’s eyes widened, cheeks puffing as he arched. Behind him, Kazuki could hear the sound of shuffling feet as Rei dug his heels into the sofa cushions.

“What? Nothing to say, tough guy?” Kazuki grinned, widening his fingers and slowly walking them up and down Rei’s ribcage. “Cat got your tongue? Or are you just scared when you open your mouth you’re gonna be laughing? I’d laugh too- especially with these tickly fingers walking up and down my ribs, getting closer and closer to my armpits but nooooooot quite touching them.” He prodded along the brunette’s upper ribs, nearly making Rei shoot his arms down. “I can feel them pounding against your chest- the laughter within you. They’re gonna burst out soon- might as well let it go~”

Rei shook his head, eyes squeezed shut as his arms twitched, the veins in his neck strained with effort. His hair had fallen into his eyes, hiding the mist forming in the corners. He was starting to rival a tomato in color. For a moment, Kazuki was worried he’d actually explode.

Well- better help him let it out before he does.

“And a one, and a two and a-” Kazuki lifted his hands up for dramatic pause, giving Rei a second to breathe. Once he was normal colored again, he shot his hands into his armpits.

“GEHAHHAHAHA!” Rei all but shrieked, arms shooting down to block out Kazuki’s hands.

“Oo, we’re halfway there! Tickle tickle tickle Rei!” Kazuki cackled, hanging on for dear life as the brunette thrashed and twisted beneath him, feet kicking and knees banging into his back. “Do you give in? Huh, do ya, do ya?”

“Ahehahahhahahahahahha! F-Fuuhuhuhuhuhuhu! Screehhehehehhw yohohohoohohu, Kahahhahahahzukihihihihiihihi!” Rei howled, covering his face with his hands as he howled in mirth. Tsking, the blonde snatched a wrist, easily pushing it back above Rei’s head as his fingers carried on wiggling into his armpit. “NO FHAHHHAHHAHAHIR!”

“Say you give up! Say it! Say it!” Kazuki teased. “I won’t stop until you do!”

“AHEHHEHHEHHEHEHE!” Rei made a whining sound at the threat, his free hand coming up to loosely grab Kazuki’s shirt. The older hitman was starting to feel a tad guilty- Rei was too stubborn for his own good. He was about to pull back and let him breathe when he finally heard it.

“FIHIHIHIHINE! FIHIHIIHIHNE YOU WIHIIHIHIHHN!” Rei cried out, tapping against Kazuki’s chest. “I GIHIHIHIVE UP!”

“Ha-HA!” Kazuki cheered, releasing Rei from his tickly attack and throwing his arms up in glee. “Take THAT! I win! I got you to give up!” He looked over, grinning from ear to ear. “Did you see that Miri? Miri…?”

The little girl was no longer by their side- at some point she had wandered away to doodle. Currently she was passed out against her artwork, snoring softly with her blue crown clutched in her little hand.

“Oh man, and after I put in all that effort to beat you!” Kazuki pouted, letting out a sigh. He was so put out by the lack of his audience he failed to feel Rei sitting up.

“Who said anything about beating me?” He growled, making the blonde squeak with wide eyes. “YOU haven’t gone yet.”

“Oh- oh no- I shouldn’t- Miri fell asleep you know? I should take her to bed-” Kazuki went to run, but Rei was faster, grabbing him and shoving him into the cushions. Immediately fingers were against his belly, making him arch and squeal like a pig. “Rehehehehehehehhei plehahahahhahahse!”

“Please what? Keep tickling you? Okay.” Rei jeered, eyes dangerous as he attacked every soft spot he could reach. “I won’t stop tickling you until you give up!”

Miri snoozed on, a little smile on her face as her dreams became ones of her and her papas, laughing as they ran through a field of tickly flowers.

Thanks for reading!

[alaskashigh]

“Oh thank Beyonce,” He scrambled into his chair as his heart hammered in his chest, his boyfriends appearing next to him.

New Jersey, equally shook, stared at New York with an appalled expression. “Jesus fuck New York, yer’ driving is lethal!”

A scowl on his face and his arms tucked neatly into a cross, New York rolled his eyes. “Fuck off both of youse. I am not a bad driver, youse two just don’ know my state.” He stared at California, who was gripping his chair and muttering in spanish too quickly for him to understand. “Dramatic. I’m not a bad driver. Ain’t that right, River?”

River stared at him, who was paused in the middle of trying to eat a beetle she had found. Awkward, as she hadn’t wanted to be caught trying to eat the little critter, she slowly sat the beetle back down as New York and New Jersey gave her a confusing mix of a grimace and disgust, the three of them exchanging glances between her, the bug, and each other.

“…Okay then.” New York didn’t quite know what to say, deciding on just dropping the topic. “Are youse good yet, B?”

River, who had gotten distracted herself, quickly snapped her head back to the bug, who’d just said the rudest things to her. Glaring, she swatted at the mean beetle with a growl, ignoring the bug as it flew away with unkind words.

[hawkstincan]

Get to know me tag game!

Tagged by @kitkatt0430 thanks for the tag <3<3<3

1. Do you make your bed?

Nope. I dropped making my bed as soon as my mom moved out. Maybe even before that. I sleep on two blankets and under a blanket. It’s just easier. And I toss a lot in my sleep and shits were always on the floor in the morning anyway. So I just stopped wasting my time and energy on making bed 

2. Favorite number?

I consider 666 and 13 lucky ones. And have a soft spot for 6 and 9

3. What’s your job?

Post office. Night shifts. Salary sucks but it’s like two steps from my apartment and I spend most of the shift alone there  

4. If you could go back to school would you?

Honestly? No. I’m too anxious to go back to learning. I dropped out the first time around. And I don’t really have passion for any subject to put myself through this kind of struggle. If I ever find something worth it maybe, but for now no      

5. Can you parallel park?

Nope, I’ve never learned how to drive

6. Do you think aliens are real?

I don’t have a strong opinion. But with the size of the Universe? I thinks that’s quite a possibility 

7. Can you drive a manual car?

Nope, I’ve never learned how to drive

8. What’s your guilty pleasure?

Hmm, Catwoman (2004) and other movies/shows I love but they are considered bad. And yeah, I know that catwoman is bad. But Halle Berry is so beautiful! And I have working eyes! (A Beginner's Guide to Endings on the other hand rated like 6 on imdb. I? I unironically think it’s a masterpiece) 

9. Tattoos?

Yep! I have four for now: snake biting its tail on my right ankle (it goes around the ankle like a bracelet);  flying crow on my right hand below the elbow; mass effect inspired geth crawling on my left shoulder and lightning and snowflakes (if you’re thinking it was inspired by ship you are right) all over my left hand below the elbow. Lightning goes on my palm and point finger. If I have more ‘spare’ money… I’ll get some more. I have ideas and places. 

10. Favorite color?

Purple since I fell in love with hawkeye. And it was black for the most of my life. I still love black. 

11. Favorite type of music?

Rock. Or metal? Or hard rock? I never thought too much about the types. So lets say rock. All the rock 

12. Do you like puzzles?

Kinda? I like them but they are usually very hard for me to solve. And I hate feeling stupid. I like idea but rarely try to really solve them

13. Any phobia?

Insectophobia. I can’t even go near some bugs. Just nope. I once almost jumped under the car to avoid a bug 

14. Favorite childhood sport?

Badminton. We never played by any rules. Just ‘do everything you can to keep the shuttlecock in the air’. And I was good at it. At school we once played with tennis rackets for almost two hours. Good times  

15. Do you talk to your self?

All the time xD Sometimes aloud. “You are a strong capable woman you CAN STOP READING AND FINISH THIS” can be heard every shift from me to me. Luckily I’m the only one hearing this xD 

16. What movies do you adore?

Wrath of Man and Pacific Rim and all Resident Evil movies (with Milla Jovovich) and 10 Things I Hate About You and Bring It On and MASH and From Dusk Till Dawn are my comfort movies/shows. I love the Critters trilogy. I love the new Star Trek trilogy. Nightmare on Elm Street (old ones). The Gentlemen. Old Guard. Kingsglaive: Final Fantasy XV (I rewatched it like four times in a row). The Suicide Squad. The Boondock Saints. Ten Inch Hero. Drive Angry… Well. Like. I have weird taste in movies I guess? (I’ve mentioned only movies I saw more than 5 times)    

17. Coffee or tea?

Coffee. I can't find balance with tea. It’s either tasteless or makes me sick because it’s too strong. Coffee I can drink non stop. Hot and cold, instant and beans. I love the bitter taste of coffee.   

18. First thing you wanted to be growing up

Veterinarian, I think. I always loved animals and thought that being the one to heal them is the best career ever

Tagging (no pressure): @holycafe, @nixie-deangel, @luna-shimizu, @bedalk, @madsteacup, @mommalosthermind, @eaion, @thing2dani and whoever feels like participating :3

[rhythm-of-space]

Bloom

notes - hi! I wrote this a while ago and it's just been sitting in my docs collecting dust. I also have a dad!jake and dad!josh written if anyone is interested (sam is currently in the works!)

a huge thank you to @sunfl0wer-power for the header and listening to my endless commentary about this and @allieisacrybaby for the encouragement 💛

warnings - none. Just dad danny and sweet sam!

-

“We’re leaving, babe!” you hear Danny yell from the garage. You get up from your place in your garden where you were tending to your new sprouts and waltz over the car where Danny is securing five-year old, Francine, in her booster seat.

“You sure you don’t want to come with us?” Danny urges as he envelopes you in a warm bear hug you know so well.

“No, I’m okay, I need to get some work done here. I love you, drive safe,” you kiss him and then move over to the little girl waiting patiently in her seat.

“And I love you! Be brave.” You whisper the last part into her ear before planting a gentle kiss to her forehead. You move away from the car to watch Danny reverse and wave them goodbye as they drive off on their little excursion.

-

Danny pulls into the parking lot next to the only other car there and hops out to unbuckle his daughter from her constraints. Her big amber eyes squint at the brightness of the summer sun as her feet meet the gravel on the ground. Danny gives her an encouraging smile before locking the car and leading the way to the trailhead.

They walk a few minutes before making it to the clearing they frequent often when he’s home. The field of flowers in full bloom, the stream with water clear as day to the side, and an area under an old oak tree where they usually lay out a blanket and enjoy their time until the sun starts to set. It’s their little oasis away from the hustle and bustle of their life.

Yet this time there’s a visitor knelt over a bundle of wildflowers, taking a picture of their beauty with his phone. Earlier that morning, Danny got a call from Sam to talk about an upcoming festival they were scheduled to play at and they got on the topic of plans for the day. Danny invited him to tag along, saying it would be a good opportunity to bond with her, and after some persuading on Danny’s end, Sam complied.

Once Francine makes out his face, her steps falter, falling behind Danny’s pace. He realizes she’s not next to him once he’s a few feet from Sam and turns to see his little girl's face full of worry. She finally catches up to Danny, but stays behind him, his body acting as a barrier between her and Sam. She clutches her arms around Danny’s leg, squeezing tight to find the comfort she always receives from his presence.

“Hey Frankie!” Sam greets with a bright smile. But she just huddles closer to her dad and whispers a polite yet mousy ‘hi’.

Sam has come to learn to not take offense to this behavior as she does this with everyone with the exception of her parents and Uncle Jake due to his laid back demeanor. Though, he is so headstrong that he is determined to connect with her, one way or another - he is her namesake after all.

-

Since she first opened her eyes to the world, Francine has been a timid little thing. Despite her dad being the drummer of a rock band, she likes the gentler, softer side of life - coming up with stories, creating the most beautiful art that a five year old could make, and her most favorite of all, the little critters that inhabit the Earth. When entering the Wagner household at any given moment, you’d find plastic bugs littered around the house, Planet Earth playing on the television, and Francine with one of her parents (or both when she pulls out the puppy dog eyes and they can’t say no) looking for creatures to observe in their backyard. There has been a push lately in efforts to get her out of her shell and trust those who care for her deeply and it has not been an easy process. She cries when her grandparents babysit, she often stays in the greenroom, away from the loudness and crowd of strangers while her dad is on stage, she even stayed by the front door while Danny met Josh’s newborn baby for the first time.

Something that always comforts her in these moments is Danny. Nobody could have expected how strong their relationship would be. She thinks the world of him, and obviously Danny does with her. The warmth he provides has become a safe haven for the little girl who finds the world too big. She had caught onto Danny’s soft nature; how he can make anyone feel a sense of home with his tender words, a sweet smile, and a love that is all-enveloping. It’s a sense of calm that grounds Francine in the most worrisome moments. He is her protector.

-

Sam expresses a reassuring smile and turns back to the flowers that have taken his focus.

“They love this time of year, you know,” still in a knelt position, he points to the flying pollinators buzzing around the petals, “This is when they get all their food to store for the winter.” A bee lands on the bundle of flowers right in front of him and starts to hunt for pollen.

Francine’s attention is grabbed in an instant as Sam continues on with his basic bee facts he learned in the seventh grade. Her head pokes out from behind her dad’s leg to see from her vantage point.

Danny feels a small tug on his pant leg and looks down to see her curious eyes looking up at him.

He kneels down to her level, tucks a loose wave of hair behind her ear, and whispers, “What do you think? Should we get a better view?” He sees the hesitation written on her face as she chews on the inside of her cheek, “can you be a brave girl for me?”

A few seconds pass before she nods in confirmation. He straightens back up and unfurls his hand, welcoming her little one and clasping it to his own in a comforting hold. He leads her over to his best friend who is still enthralled in the liveliness of the bees.

“You see that, Frankie? They're just going on with their little lives, finding food, pollinating the Earth one by one. Each and every one of them are valuable and needed - just like us, huh? Just like you, your dad, me, we all matter in this little thing called life..”

The bee buzzes off to find another flower, “...oh look! There he goes! He must have business to attend to.”

“No, Sammy,” Sam and Danny whip their heads towards her in both shock upon hearing her speak up, and in wonder at what she’ll say next, “The worker bees…they’re all girls.”

“Oh, of course! I’m sorry ladies, keep up the good work!” He yells after them, as if they’ll understand and turns to her, “They’re hard workers, huh?”

She nods in agreement, “Very. Um, Daddy got me a book all about them and how much they help us. I c-can show you it next time you come over…if you want to see.”

Squeezing Danny’s hand, she waits with bated breath for his response. “I would absolutely love that, hun. I can’t wait.” Both of their faces light up to show off their beautiful smiles.

“Hey, I noticed a big patch of flowers down the trail, should we go see what else we can find?” Francine peers up at her dad as a silent ask and he looks down at her with wide eyes in excitement to encourage her.

He expects to have to pull her along with him hand-in-hand, but to everyone's surprise, she brings his hand to her lips to place a soft kiss on his knuckles like she's seen her parents do many times before, lets it fall to his side, and walks along with Sam. It’s as if she was the one comforting him - telling him that she’ll be okay.

After collecting himself he pulls his phone out to capture a video. It shows them walking off a few steps ahead and her talking with her hands, getting animated like she does when she's really interested in the conversation. He goes into his contacts and finds your name, needing you to see how big your little girl has grown in just a couple hours. ‘I’m so proud of her!’ and ‘she’s so brave!’ are passed back and forth before he says he’ll be home soon and can't wait to tell you all about the progress she’s made.

He rushes to catch up to the newly-made friends to find Sam kneeling again, picking white daisies from the root. “Don’t worry, we’ll leave some for the bees.” he mentions towards Frankie who is examining an ant hill not too far off.

They stay there for a while longer, Francine has convinced both of them to look for bugs with her; Danny teases Sam the entire time as he is new to the activity and not very fond of the tiny creatures that crawl on four or more legs - but he’s a good sport for her. As the sun starts to set on the horizon, Danny sees the tell-tale signs of his little one losing energy - the constant rubbing of her eyes, long yawns, and the way she starts to cling to Danny’s form.

He picks her up and they head off back to the car park they pulled into that afternoon. After securing her in her seat Sam pops in to wish her farewell, “Here Frankie, these are for you. I had such a fun time with you today.” He’s holding out the flowers he picked back at the clearing as a gift, a memory of today.

She beams up at him with heavy, tired eyes and cradles the bundle before Danny closes her door, ready to get her to bed. After hugging Danny, Sam leans against his own vehicle, giving them space to back out. Before they drive too far, the car window rolls down and he hears a little voice, “Goodnight Sammy, I love you.” All Danny can do is smile wide and keep his eyes on the road to get them home safely. It was a successful day and he wishes you could have been there to see it.

-

[onenicebugperday]

Do you know of any bugs (other than Boreidae) that are active in cold temperatures? I’m itching to go bug hunting but I still have more than a month of snow left. :(

Thanks for letting me know your location via IM!

There are not a ton of options for bug hunting in February in your area - most bugs will be hunkered down for winter and it's best not to disturb their cozy hiding places by flipping over logs and rocks and stuff where you'd normally find lots of bugs.

There are bugs that'll come out in winter, but many of them are not super common and it's kind of unlikely you'd find them without looking in very specific habitat. That would include snow scorpionflies as you mentioned, and also snow flies, which are a type of crane fly, plus snow fleas, gall wasps, some midges and a few others that are very very tiny.

Tbh you're much more likely to find bugs indoors this time of year, so you may want to give that a go? Stink bugs, boxelder bugs, Asian lady beetles, and lots of different spiders are all common in houses in the winter. Basements are an especially good place to try and find some critters.

Otherwise there's always keeping bugs as pets! Everyone should have an isopod or two ;)

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tag @cain-e-brookman!

Proud-of Tag

Rules: Post something you're proud of

Here's a little slice of Astra’s definitely fully platonic feelings from MG3 :)

Astra barked a laugh. “Yeah, I can fix ya up with somethin’. Maybe you can teach me to swim someday, though I’m feelin’ pretty pleased with my performance today. I bet I’ll be a natural, once I really learn.”

“I guess we’ll find out.” Mashal’s mouth curved into a barebones smile, only for his eyes to flicker nervously. “If that’s the case, then… then are we going to stick together once I’m human again?”

The witch’s eyebrows shot up. She hadn’t considered that before.

“Of course we are!” she replied. “I— I mean, if ya want to, that is. You’re my friend, Mashal. The first friend I’ve had…. The first friend I’ve had in a damn long time. I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed bein’ around someone the way I enjoy bein’ near you.”

The more she thought, the more she found the words were true. There was something about this man that brought out the best in her, and made her want to bring out the best in him. To find the deepest well of his heart and learn its depths as thoroughly as she might study the mysteries of magic itself.

She’d never had a friend like Mashal before. And now that she had him, she didn’t want to ever let him go.

At her side, Mashal’s smile blossomed gently back into place. He squeezed her hand and Astra felt a smile slide onto her own face. She knew how nervous he sometimes got with delicate motions like that.

“I enjoy being near you too,” he finally said. “I’d like to keep it that way, even once everything is put to rights.”

For a second, it seemed like he was about to say something more, only to shake his head and gesture back towards the way they’d came. “We should get out of here. Who knows what else is lurking?”

“Hopefully no more spiders.” Astra chuckled as she elbowed him in the ribs. “You know they’re more afraid a’ you than you are a’ them, right?”

Mashal made a gagging noise. “I don’t care. They can be afraid, just so long as they stay off me. Gods, I can still feel all those little legs….”

“I’ll find ya some bug spray later,” she offered, still grinning. “I reckon it’s a good thing I didn’t mention Abomination while I still had the vardo, I guess.”

“Who now?”

Astra grimaced apologetically. “The big ole’ huntsman spider that lived in the Extraordinaire. He was my pest control. I reckon he’s dead by now—I don’t know how long the critters live, but he’d been with me a while by the time you showed up.”

“A— A spider. You had a spider living in your wagon. A spider you named Abomination.” Mashal let out a shaky sigh. “Well, why not?”

“If he and my vardo are still there by the time we get back, I’ll relocate ’im to some cozy shed for his retirement.” Astra gave her friend’s hand a squeeze. “Since we’re gonna be stickin’ together.”

“That’s, uh, probably for the best,” Mashal answered laughingly.

She's the demisexual rep I'm making for myself. Tagging @bunnymermaidwrites @sarahlizziewrites @sageswriting @autism-purgatory @katenewmanwrites and anyone else who wants to play :)

[loominggaia]

Here’s the actual doc I was trying to show. It’s a kinda silly idea but I’m still fond of it.

@kid-az once again sharing a lot of really cool ideas! I like the bug/alien theme here and the idea of a fourth class. Also really liking your unique spin on classic fantasy critters! The sasquatches are especially intriguing to me. I hate slugs so much IRL, and the idea of slug-people is terrifying but in a good way!

Thank you for posting this! There is so much cool content in this doc, everyone should check it out!

*

Questions/Comments?

Lore Masterpost

Read the Series

[shkika]

I'm starting to think this is making yur wrist WORSE with all the typing /lhj also also also type as long as you'd like its so fun reading it all

Anyway that makes a lot of sense actually like.,.,,..wow man rainworld is really?? Sad when you think about it god

I wonder if moon felt any sort of obligation to be how she was towards fp aside from being the big sister etc, like maybe bc he was built to like carry her population something like that I think its silly how she spoke so badly of the ancients but then when fp ends up doing something she's so much more like understanding I guess it shows how much she does really care

Maybe her anger is driven more towards what she could have done herself alongside being mainky the ancients..She seems the type imo like......maybe she should have started the communications faster or maybe if she had done more he wouldnt have felt the need to work with the rot in the first place or maybe that she didnt even really figure something was terribly terribly wrong in the first place?? Itd be cool I think if she was only so patient with fp actually like...... she was faster to stop forgiving with other iterators or anything really, but I think as you said way earlier she'd just be a little passive aggressive or something and that'd be enough for her probably

I COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT THE ROT BEING GOSSIP MATERIAL that must've messed pebbles up like so so SOO bad. Like first off he failed he did what he never wanted to do and then it just gets spread around?? As conversation?? Like wow. Wow wow wow thanks I guess. Ok.

Speaking of suns too I wonder do they regret telling pebbles (someone highly impressionable at this point in time and someone looking for ADVICE) the whole bug situation, like it feels as if they were kind of just venting out some of their own frustrations rather than truly truly meaning it but then again suns is such an odd creature why are you so mean to this guy he looks up to you so much be NORMAL

On a much lighter note though his intrigue(special interest/j) with the history and like poetry the ancients had is so silly I think I wonder would he have ever rambled about it to others like more in depth than what he tells artificer

Hopefully not!! I really need these lazy hands to work!! bahah

I’m having fun you’re aall good ^^

I have a lot of hcs about Moon I’d like to explore in an ask blog I hopefully open soon >> especially her relationship with ancients, her group and five pebbles in particular hoopefully. She’s a really mild person, because of the way she carries herself, but has a lot to her character. At least I like to hc her that way!

She does feel responsibility over Pebbles, but I doubt she ever blames herself for the situation which they ended up in. I also doubt the responsibility felt forced to her!

Or well I at least enjoy the hc that she loves thinking herself as a big sister! She likes to dote on people and help out when she can. Though her approach does end up being one where she holds your hand a lot (not for proud iterators oops!!!!)

Also passive agressive moon…? yes…. just yes. we deal with anger by looking at you wrong bahahah

The rot was gossip material it is very upsetting!! but a little funny! Not to mention how iterators reffered to Pebbles I found myself snickering. “The near Looks to the Moon” like alright sheesh. People also tried to contact poor Pebbles i think! Not just his local group! Imagine how stressful that is.

Suns feels like that one nihilistic atheist guy with a big ego who overshares his opinions a lot and thinks the world sucks and has like unchecked anxiety.

But that’s probably just me hehe. I think Suns and Pebbles had fun being hateful little goons and then Srs dropped his depressing opinions which.. aren’t even fully wrong. Isn’t it sad. Pebbles ended up exactly in the way which srs described. Something he was so afraid of he gave himself the rot over </3

Suns is a silly goon to me. A critter I contain in my jar.

And yes!! I’d love to know what more Pebbles has to say about art and culture! Mmmm more content please yum yum!! His painting analysis was super cute.