#they just Happen. and a lot of the time they're placed in breaks in the video but not always

[moon-ttokki-x]

oh my god I’m stupid I requested 8, 9, and 39 for the SKZ prompt list but I forgot to ask for which member. Bangchan pretty please 🥺👉👈

hihi this took so long sorry >< . . . this is a lot more angsty than anticipated but i hope it works. i wrote it a little differently that i normally would, but here you go, love~~

stupidly perfect - (best friend!bang chan x reader)

pairing: bang chan x reader

summary: chan has never noticed how you feel for him, and one fateful evening, you let it all spill.

genre: angsty as hell, idol!au, reader lowkey enters their villain era, mentions of eating and drinking, overexcited maknaes, chan is kinda oblivious in this fic ngl, supportive felix, itzy mentions (yeji, ryujin, chaeryoung if that counts ig), this is super sad tbh

a/n: this took a while tbh . . . div by @ferretmilkshakezzz

⛓️ prompts: 8. "Take your time. I'm not going anywhere." / 9. "You can rest now." / 39. "I can't keep pretending I'm fine."

skz masterlist | skz prompt list

"Y/n, do you wanna come to that ramen restaurant with us later?" Jisung tugs at your arm, skipping alongside you. "We've been wanting to go for ages, and we all finally have schedules off tonight."

"Yeah, come with us," Jeongin adds. "It'll be fun."

The maknaes are tagging all around you as you walk down the hallway, trying your best to keep a hold on all the papers you're carrying. It's difficult when they're fluttering around you like overexcited birds.

You'd taken the job at JYPE around four months ago; it was decided after a very long period of doubting and worrying that it wouldn't work out after what happened at your last workplace. But your best friend, Chan, had been super supportive throughout the whole thing, even offering to help you move into your little apartment down the road from the company. He'd brought some of his friends to help with the heavy lifting, and from there, you'd pretty much been adopted into the group he'd formed and was the leader of.

Not like you had a choice in the first place.

But you didn't mind; you'd been worried partly because of the fact that you wouldn't have any friends when you'd moved to this part of Korea; Chan had managed to inadvertently solve that issue without trying. Now, the four excitable boys skipped and bickered around you as you set down the papers on your office desk. Wiping the minimal sweat from your forehead, you sighed and pried Seungmin away from the trinkets neatly lining your bookshelf.

"Who else is going?" You ask as Jisung whines about you coming to the restaurant for the umpteenth time.

Seungmin shrugs, interrupting his friend. "All of the members, you, and a couple of the girls from our dance crew."

You feel your heart sink just as your brain tells you to agree; it's been ages since you went out with the guys, and you honestly couldn't wait for a break. Work was always stressful around comeback season, but you'd all settled into the rhythm of it soon enough. Spending an evening out with eight of your best friends eating some soul food sounded like a good idea. A better idea than spending the evening on the couch in your apartment, eating ice cream in complete silence. Alone.

You bite your lip, anticipating. "Which of the dance crew girls?"

Jeongin shrugs from the sofa, swinging his legs over a disgusted Seungmin's lap as he lounges back. "The usuals; Yeji, Ryujin, Young-hee, and Chae. Why?"

"No reason," you say, turning back to the bookshelf to unnecessarily reorganise something, fiddling with the solid fabric spine of one of your books. "I'll let you know if I'm coming. Now, clear out."

Your last comment doesn't bother the maknaes at all; they know you don't like your office being messed up, so they call goodbyes, and Jisung sneakily pokes your side as he filters out the door. Felix, however, remains.

You try to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest and keep a neutral expression as you turn the dark-haired boy. He looks so different from his usual blonde-haired countenance; however, no less beautiful, and not for the first time do you hold yourself back from carding your fingers affectionately through his hair.

You exhale. "Do you need something, Lix?"

He sits down on your chair, swinging it backwards and leaning his forearms across the back. An air of resignation flows around him. "You're not coming tonight, are you?"

You bite your lip. "I'll see."

His voice is quiet. "You've said that since Chae started hanging around us. Is it because of her?"

You scoff, dropping a pen. "No. Why would you think that?"

Felix leans forward on the chair, nosy. "It is because of her, isn't it? Do you not like her? Is it because of Chan-hyung?"

You whip around to face him, exasperated. The explanation bubbles out of you like molten lava from a temperamental volcano. "Okay, fine! I just- I can't stand seeing her around him. They're so close, and they always seem so wrapped up in each other-"

You cut yourself off then, not wanting to say anything you might regret. Chae is nice enough; she's never done anything explicitly hurtful towards you, though you secretly have suspicions that she doesn't like you at all. But you stay quiet, trying to dissipate the rising frustration blooming in your chest.

Felix is quiet.

You know he knows; he's known for ages about your little crush on his leader. You were afraid to tell him, once upon a time; but all you got in response from the affectionate chicken boy was a hushed giggle and a gentle encouragement to tell Chan how you feel. He hasn't told anyone else about your feelings, and you know he would continue to keep his mouth shut. But you wish, even just a little, that someone else would notice and find a way to get Chae away from your best friend.

"No wonder she likes him too," you say quietly to yourself, sinking into your office chair.

And it isn't a wonder, really. Chan is sweet, and gentle, and kind, and so, so, supportive and admirable. There's not a single flaw about him, except perhaps his slight dislike towards himself and his irritation when it comes to those soft, dark curls that frame his perfect face so perfectly-

You shake yourself out of it. Felix is still looking at you quietly, his head tilted in thought.

"You do know," he says carefully, "that you're closer with Chan that Chae is?"

"But still," you groan. "He always seems so much happier around her, and he always only talks to her when you all go out-"

"How would you know?" Felix cries, throwing his hands up. "You're not even there half the time, and Chan only talks to her because you're not there for him to talk to. He has to settle for her because he's fed up of us, and he's not close with Yeji, Ryujin, or Young-hee."

You sigh and hop up onto the desk, swinging your legs over the side. "I just can't stand it, Lix. Seeing them together..."

His expression softens. "I know, Y/n, and I know how frustrated you get when they're all over each other, but you have to at least try. Come with us. If not for him, then for us. We miss you."

"I'm right here."

Felix sighs softly. "That's not what I meant."

You rub two fingers along the bridge of your nose, trying to think straight. You can't get the images out of your mind; Chan and Chae giggling to each other, her touching his arm, him reciprocating the affection... no one said it would hurt this bad when you watch your best friend fall for someone else.

No one said it would hurt this much when you realise that you're in love with said best friend either.

"I can't keep pretending I'm fine," you say, so softly you're not sure Felix hears it. But he does.

"Then don't pretend," he urges gently. "Get him to fall for you. You're halfway there already, I'm pretty sure. But it's not gonna happen if you're always at a distance from him."

He has a point, you think. But, being as stubborn as you are, there's still that nagging doubt in the back of your mind that Chan will never feel the same way that you do, whether you're with him or not-

"Y/n," Felix says, a little more firmly.

You know exactly what he's thinking; sighing, and then bending down to pick up the pen you dropped earlier, you slot it back into the holder on the desk.

"Fine," you say quietly, trying and failing to hide the tiny smile twitching at the corners of your mouth. "I'll come."

Felix lets out a whoop.

.

You pull your jacket a little closer around yourself as you head round the corner, the evening wind whipping your hair into a state of extreme disarray. Sighing and then spluttering as you pull strands of it out of your mouth and eyes, you duck around people and head to the restaurant, its warm, golden light drawing you in like a moth to a flame.

You're not late, so to speak; you spot the group sitting at a large corner booth with comfy seats, mingling and chattering, and you notice Felix immediately. His face lights up when he sees you, half with relief and half with something else you can't quite decipher. He makes to get up before you're almost tackled to the floor by Jisung and Jeongin, who are pretty much hollering at the top of their lungs.

Minho shushes them insistently as he tugs them off you, bowing before shoving both maknaes back into their seats.

"Y/n," Jeongin says happily. "We didn't think you'd come."

You chuckle awkwardly and settle into the spot next to Felix, trying not to look around for Chan like you always do. "Yeah, I needed a break. Besides, you two would have come for my throat if I turned the invitation down one more time."

"Damn right," Jisung interjects, all three of you dissolving into giggles.

You look around then; not everyone is here. Hyunjin and Yeji are still missing, both Hwangs late as per usual, and you know Changbin will come by a little later, having decided to work out before treating himself for the evening. You make a mental note to stick to your work ethic as well as he does, but it's interrupted by the familiar tone of someone speaking your name.

"You look nice, Y/n," Chan says from next to Felix, who is sitting in between both of you.

Chae is sitting next to Chan, you notice with some sadness and displeasure; her long, pinky-blonde hair is straight and neat, long acrylic nails coming up to brush strands of it off her perfect porcelain cheeks, flushed with the cold. At least, you hope it's the cold and not the effect of Chan's probably flirting before you arrived.

Despite the indignance rising in your stomach, you can't help but notice how Chan looks tonight; his hair is slightly damp from the chilly weather outside, the adorably messy strands of it curling against his temples and nape. His eyes are crescents as he gazes into yours, and you fight the urge to reach over and wipe the faint remainder of strawberry milk off the curve of his plush bottom lip.

You know exactly where he'd bought the little drink carton of it from; there's a vending machine just down the street, one that the boys always buy drinks from before eating out. It was their tradition, and one that you gladly partook in, that is before you became too shy to be around the boys.

Because of Chan and his stupid perfectness.

You suddenly come back down to earth and realise that Chan is still gazing at you; Chae is laughing obnoxiously loud in the background behind him, no doubt to recapture his attention, but all you can focus on is the fact that you're locking eyes with the most beautiful person on earth. And also the fact that you haven't replied to his little indirect compliment, so you just nod and turn back to the table to fiddle with the menu in front of you.

Felix exhales discreetly and you fight a grin, watching as he unpeels himself from the corner of the table. He'd been bending over it so you could lean back to talk to Chan, and he pokes you affectionately in the side as you thank him quietly, clearing your throat in an attempt to get rid of the flush painting your cheeks.

"Could've warned me about how pretty he looks," you mutter to Felix under your breath. He just chuckles and touches your knee as everyone begins to order.

The food arrives just as Hyunjin, Yeji, and Changbin make their dramatically late entrance; they clatter noisily into their seats, and you bump fists with Yeji just as everyone begins to dig in.

There's brief silence as everyone begins to fill their stomachs with soul food, and then the chatter eventually rises again as the members turn to each other to bicker and laugh. You almost snort a noodle out of your mouth as you watch Hyunjin take a hairclip out of his bag to clip his hair back, before realising it's not there. Seungmin, sitting next to him, runs his hand through the boy's kiwi-like hair before turning back to his ramen.

You almost start to enjoy yourself, but there's still that lingering tension that you feel rests in the air between you and Chan; if anyone else has noticed it, they're not saying anything. Felix, noticing your quietness, tries to fill the space between you with small talk and jokes, but it doesn't seem to help. Once or twice, he even brings Chan into the conversation in a bid to try and get you two to converse, but Chae interjects more and more frequently until you quietly tell Felix to stop.

You feel bad because of it; you know he's just trying to help, but it isn't working. And it's beginning to make you feel worse, the fact that it seems not even the dark-haired sunshine boy can get his leader to try and talk to you. And you realise, all of a sudden, that maybe it's not Chan that's the problem.

There are two possible reasons that Chan doesn't seem to want to talk to you; you thought maybe he would talk more with you tonight, considering it's been so long since you've been out with them, but you're crestfallen as you realise that not more than a few words have been exchanged between the two of you tonight.

And it strangely breaks your heart.

The other reason is that Chae might have been badmouthing you behind your back to Chan, or it could be because of the fact that Chan genuinely likes her. You're not sure, but that belief is confirmed as you look across to see Chan holding out his chopsticks to her, bringing a piece of tempura to her perfect, pink lips.

Watching in horror and completely forgetting about the cooling ramen in front of you, you watch as Chae accepts the tempura with a little giggle, batting her lashes at Chan as he reaches up to wipe a crumb off her lip. The sight is so equally disgusting and upsetting that you immediately stand up, moving out of the booth as tears blur your eyes.

"Where are you going?" Jisung calls after you, Felix looking up from his food.

"Bathroom," you call over your shoulder, your voice surprisingly strong considering the fact that tears and beginning to stream down your cheeks.

Not wanting to make a fuss or arouse suspicion from the group, you do actually head to the bathrooms, locking the cubicle door behind you and sinking down against the door. You couldn't care less if it's dirty right now, the only thought in your head the mental image of your best friend and Chae giggling and flirting all over each other, blissfully unaware of your misery.

It's not fair.

"Maybe it's me," you whisper to yourself, sniffling as you rip off a piece of toilet paper, scrubbing at your face. You feel so pathetic and unworthy; what kind of person hides out in the bathroom crying over a guy who probably doesn't even care about them?

Standing up and checking you have your phone and wallet, you sigh as you feel the weight of them in your pockets. Good. You can just leave without having to go back to the table. The last thing you want right now is to talk to anyone, or have to put up a fake cheerful front.

Heading to the back of the restaurant, the once-inviting golden lights now feeling like a spotlight, you emerge out into the street, the cold wind soothing the hot, sticky tear irritation on your cheeks. You head to the parking garage down the street and try to walk as quickly as you can past the opening of the ramen restaurant, lest any of the group notice you walking away.

And they don't, not least until you cross the street and head down the dimly light footpath.

Someone grabs your wrist suddenly and you cry out, whipping your head back so fast to see who it is you think you might have whiplash.

Chan is standing there, his hand solid and warm around your wrist, the wind ruffling his dark hair back from his bare face. You can see the glint of his silver earrings under the streetlights.

"Wait," he pants. "Where are you going?"

You can't fight the hot, wet tear rolling down your cheek and inwardly curse it for escaping. "Home."

"Why?" He asks, concern and worry painting his expression. "Are you not feeling well?"

You fight the urge to slap him; it wouldn't be fair, however much you want to do it. He just doesn't understand. He doesn't understand any of it. And you want nothing more to run into his arms and spill all your thoughts and feelings like you have so many times before, but you can't.

Not this time.

You can't tell Chan that you've loved him since who knows how long; that seeing him makes your heart feel lighter, the way a high schooler might feel seeing their crush in the sunny hallways. You can't tell him how many times you styled your hair to look a little like his, hoping the curls that make him look so handsome might make you a little more attractive too. You can't tell him how many times you ran late for schedules just because you took a detour to his studio to talk with him, even if it was just for a minute.

Even if all of it was a waste in the end. Because he likes someone else, and that someone else isn't you.

So you just shake your head as the tears come streaming down, and rip your wrist out of his grip before turning and walking away. The earth feels like it's shattering around you.

Or maybe that's just your heart.

But Chan doesn't give up; you hear his footsteps continue behind you, hurried and irregular, like he's trying to decide whether to let you go or make you stay.

"Y/n," he pants. "Wait, just- will you stop walking so fast? Please, wait, slow down- What's wrong?"

"Everything's wrong!" You cry out, turning to face him as you throw your hands up. A sob rips through your lungs, face contorting with the force of your tears. "Okay? Everything's wrong."

Chan is silent, one hand out in an unsteady attempt to calm you. "What are you talking about? You're worrying me."

You scoff and kick a stone across the footpath, harshly rubbing a hand across your cheekbone.

"Y/n, please," he pleads, his voice quieter. "Felix noticed you were gone for too long earlier, and I saw you walking out of the restaurant. Please, tell me what's wrong. You look so upset."

"Then stop looking."

He recoils, looking slightly hurt, before it's overtaken by a look of determination. You know that look; it either results in an all-nighter to finish a song track, an attempt to wrangle seven naughty kids, or a hard-to-have conversation. You know it's the last one.

"Please," he says, even quieter. "Tell me what's wrong. Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."

"It's you," you say, broken with utter resignation.

He takes a step forward. "What?"

"It's you," you repeat, looking away as another hysterical sob brings the wind inside your body. It's sharp and biting, and it brings back some of your courage. But only some.

You raise your eyes to look at him. Maybe this is the last conversation you'll have with Chan, before he decides he doesn't want to be around someone who's in a one-way love story with him. Even if that person is his best friend.

"You don't realise, do you?" You whisper brokenly. "You never realised I was in love with you, Chan. But that's just who you are. You may be kind and compassionate and intuitive, but you never realised why I do what I do, or why I act the way I act around you."

His face is contorted in utter disbelief; whether it's from shock or disgust, you don't want to know.

"I realised around the time you helped me move in," you continue. Might as well get all of it out now. "I looked at you differently after a while. I didn't see my best friend anymore. I saw someone else, someone stronger and more clever and more dedicated and more perfect and flawless. And it was strange, because I realised that you changed so much. Maybe I changed too, but it was different seeing you walking around at the company and going about your schedules, because I felt different about it all. I felt different about you. And I couldn't let it go, not least when we actually talked. I used to be late for most of my meetings and events because I would take detours to see you. Some days I would think about canceling my schedules just so I could be around you more.

"And I love the boys, I do, Chan. So much. But I have to admit, I wouldn't be around them half as much if you weren't there. I felt so drawn to you, not like the way I did when we were friends. I figured that if I didn't want to lose you, I would have to discipline myself. So I did.

"I threw myself into my work; I gave myself so much to do, partially to distract myself, partially to use work as an excuse whenever I was invited out, like tonight. Just because I knew you would be there, and I didn't want to end up spilling it all to you, because I knew it would ruin everything between us. Forever.

"And when Chae started hanging around us, I didn't mind at first; I sort of liked her. But I started hating her because of how close she would get to you, how much you two would secretly talk between yourselves, and it made me upset. So I ended up spending much more time by myself so that I would be able to forget she existed. So that I could forget that she ever entered the picture, and that it was just me and my secret that I kept from you. For so long, Chan. You have no idea how much I had to hold myself back from you.

"Did you assume that I never wanted to go out with you guys? That I never wanted to buy drinks from that vending machine the members always go to before eating out, or that I didn't want to spend time with you? Because I did, Chan. But I forced myself not to, because I couldn't bear to see you, and most of the time I didn't know if Chae was going to be there. I told myself I wasn't going to sit there and watch you be with her, not while I felt so invisible and unseen around you.

"Let me tell you something, Chan," you choke through sobs at him, pointing a finger at his chest as though it were a gun. "Every time Jisung or Jeongin or one of the boys invited me out, I did actually show up. Even if you never saw me. I would watch from a distance to see if Chae was with you; if she was, I would turn around and leave, and go home. If not, I would smile from around the corner as the maknaes begged you for money to buy drinks from that vending machine. And then I would turn around and go home anyway.

"I know every single one of their preferences; even if you didn't know I was there to observe them bickering and choosing, faces lit by streetlight. I would go around to the vending machines at the company and randomly buy their favourites for them, even if you didn't know how I knew. I would buy them for you too, and debate leaving a little note for you telling you how I felt alongside it, and I never did.

"Because, despite all of that, it was all a waste," you snap at him. You're not sure why you're angry; you suppose it's the result of feeling unheard for so long. "It was a waste, Chan. Because you never even noticed how I felt. So don't come chasing after me in the night like this like you care, because it was Felix who told you to come after me, Felix who noticed I had been gone for too long, not you of your own accord. And don't look worried or concerned either, because I've told you what's wrong, Chan, just as you asked. You can rest now."

You can barely see him through the blur of your tears.

"Y/n," he whispers, broken as you feel. "I'm so sorry."

"I don't care," you cry out at him, turning and storming in the other direction. And this time, he doesn't follow, still standing under the streetlight with his hand out, though you're not there to take it.

You sob bitterly as you almost flee around the corner, breaking out into a full-on run, like sprinting can fix the problem, fix your heart and your tears. It doesn't, however, and you feel worse as you bolt pass the crossing light, not caring about its colour. Later you will realise that running with blurry vision and a hysterical, heartbroken mindset was not the wisest idea.

You don't see the car speeding towards you until it's too late.

a/n: *laughs in writer*

[dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling]

Hi, if you're still doing poppy playtime asks, mind If I ask, how would the toys react if the player saved up a lot of money and used it to buy a remote property far from any society. When asked why the player states they're going to die one day, one day they won't be around and they need somewhere to live when for when he's no longer around to take care of them. It's remote so Noone should ever run into them, it's got plenty of food either by the river, sea, forest or simply growing in the garden. It's got plenty of rooms for each of them, they just ask that the toys take care of themselves, so when they do die they'll die knowing they'll be okay

I couldn't fit everything you said into one post because it was getting long, sorry about that. Hope you like it anyway!

If you like my work, please consider commissioning me or leaving a tip on Ko-fi (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

Kind of a continuation to this post.

Player who lives in a remote location

★ You got the property years ago; it's off a dirt trail far into the woods. Hard to find if you weren't actively looking for it. Could go weeks without seeing another person. You liked it, it was nice and quiet. And, conveniently, the perfect home for all the toys you could rescue.

★ It was a big adjustment for everyone. Doey, Kissy and Dogday were still shaken up over everything that had happened. Most of the mini critters seemed in good spirits, which you were thankful for. Even though the first few days were stressful, each passing day felt a bit better than the last.

★ Cartoons are constantly playing in your living room. Usually, older Disney movies or indie shows you find on YouTube. Doey tries to play peacemaker whenever an argument about what to watch breaks out.

★ Some of the smaller toys are scared of being carried away by a bird of prey. You made one joke about it, and it was taken seriously. "Watch out, or a big bird might swoop down and carry you away!" It was meant to be funny, but Bobby didn't leave the house for a good week after that.

★ The lack of light pollution makes it the perfect place to stargaze! Some of the toys who were turned at a very young age don't remember seeing stars. It's sad, but at least you can help them make up for lost time.

★ A mini-Catnap is the first to ask you “What’ll happen when you die?” It’s a heavy topic and you try not to think about it. But he has a point. What will become of everyone when you're gone? How can you prepare them for that?

★ You begin by teaching the toys basic life skills. Showing the more responsible one's cooking, the rowdy one's how to set fishing traps. And take the time to show Poppy how she can use your old sewing machine to make herself new clothes.

★ The thought of losing their protector would be unsettling. However, over time, they find solace in your home's safety and the skills you've taught them. When you're gone, everything will be okay. They have each other.

(Got the idea for some of the toys never having seen stars from this comic. Please check it out! It's really good!)

[whereserpentswalk]

There's a room somewhere. Or perhaps everywhere. You can reach it from anywhere in the world but it requires a very specific set of motions to get to. The Greeks said that it's true location was exactly between the moon and the sun, and the way for the gods to test our intellects. In the middle ages they said it was the one place that neither Christ nor Satan knew. In the early modern period people started saying it wasn't real.

It's a single white room. Small but not too small. There's a table with too chairs, and a glass wall cutting the room in half, with the table split, and each chair on another side. There's holes to talk through the glass but they're too small to pass objects through. And ever so often, someone from an alternate universe will walk into the other side.

There can never be more then two people in the room at the same time, the mechanics will just put you in another copy of the room if you try. And you can never end up on the same side of the room as the second person. The other person can be from any alternate universe. The glass cannot be broken, and you'll understand the language of the other person. People have tried to break the rules and faced consequences from whatever entity owns the room.

Sometimes the person on the other side will be similar to the people from your world, so similar you might never be able to find out how your worlds differ, or if you find out it will be so mundane and local you won't really care. Other times you'll see someone from a completely alternate history, different cultures, entirely alien forms of technology, or vastly different societies. People have reported seeing 21st century Roman Imperials, or post nuclear survivors, or cyborgs, or people with steam powered technology, or living technology. There are even more dubious rumors of nonhuman intelligences, androids, or sapient dinosaurs, or technologically advanced Neanderthals.

A lot of people come to the room to try to find out as much they can about the civilization before them. They'll try to ask as many questions to know what they can about the alternate earths. "If the soviet union never fell what happened to Latin America?" "Are there any major cities left after the plague?" "Did your civilization ever reach the moon?" "Why did you get to have a Mars colony so soon when you didn't even invent the internet?" "How does the internet work in a feudal society?" "How does that machine you're wearing on your wrist work?" "If you're an android how do you reproduce?" "What's it like living in a world without sex or children?" "If your timeline diverged from mine in 1989, did they ever make star wars prequels?" Normal questions.

But there's always a problem. Because you can never find out everything. You have to leave the room at some point to eat or to sleep, and when you do you'll never be able to talk to that person again unless you get luckier then probably would ever allow you to account for. The only person from that civilization you'll ever talk to will be gone to you in a relatively short amount of time whatever you do. You can ask a thousand questions, but there will always be more, and there will always be things that you forgot to ask.

Some people just go to the room for someone to talk to. To ask about their day, and ask them about theirs. To bounce ideas off of a neutral party. To debate. Occasionally people will use it as a way of testing out their manuscript. The room has had a non zero rate of sexual harassment, though people's ability to just walk away has mitigated it. Occasionally people come to the room to try to convert people to their religion, at least one of our world's major religions started that way.

Sometimes people use the room to be exceedingly cruel. They will tell people the worst insults. Argue with them. Claim their civilization's superiority. It's rare, but occasionally it happens. When you know you'll never see someone again, you can do anything. It's surprisingly rare that people use that for cruelty, but it's still something that people do.

Sometimes people make genuine freinds in the room. Talk to people they meet there for hours upon hours. Meet people who they had wished they knew their entire life, the type of person you never knew you needed but you know that you have to have. There are even some cases of people falling in love with the person on the other side of the room. And they'll always want to give them a contact, or plan to meet again, but they'll know they can't. And as the hours click on they'll slowly realize the tragedy that they're experiencing, that they'll never see the person across from them again, that they always knew it, and how it kills them inside.

[360degreesasthecrowflies]

I think the cloak was always intended to have some special prominence, and she only came up with the other two Hallows later, probably because some editor suggested Rule of Three to her.

As for Harry (and co) not being meant to be 17 at the end, I've convinced myself even more of that. Here's some reasons why:

Draco Malfoy is essentially a non-entity in DH. That makes a lot more sense narratively if he was only ever meant to be an important character of their schooldays, but ineffectual and passive in the adult world - which would fit (the young) JKR's view of the idle rich (probably less so now!). Likewise for him being given the quest to kill Dumbledore, randomly. That makes a lot more sense if it's given to him at 17, to prove himself as an adult out of his father's shadow, and that he's unable to do it and has to rely on his mother and aunt (to JKR, weakness) and Snape, his teacher, someone of lower social status. Even Ron and Hermione not believing that Draco might be a Death Eater is more believable if they're one year older than in canon because that's one more year of Draco not progressing as a challenge beyond childish pranks and taunts, while HRH are developing their magic and having adventures

Tonks and Lupin's romance isn't so breakneck and Tonks isn't quite so young when it first happens, given they are scheduled to die having just had a child at the Battle of Hogwarts which gives them a few years of peace to work on/through their relationship

Snape actually has time to 'become Dumbledore' and carry an increasingly darker and more knife edge part of his arc, while also gaining a greater appreciation for his former master, if he heads Hogwarts through multiple Voldemort era years instead of speedrunning that twist in essentially a 9 month three semesters

Harry, Ron and Neville get to have their Auror arc early and it doesn't necessarily happen off-page. Arthur Weasley is also definitely dead in this outline; which gives the Twins and the other Weasley kids an excuse to (be forced to) work to keep their house. Molly, naturally, now goes on missions, as a result it's not quite so surprising when she is able to defeat Bellatrix at the end of the Battle

Moody's death is more impactful as this is now Harry and Ron's direct boss and mentor rather than this guy they vaguely know

Peter Pettigrew likely dies in some other interaction with HRH rather than the out-of-nowhere compelled suicide in canon DH

Harry and Ginny's divide-and-reunite is stronger if they're an established couple who split for her own protection in wartime leaving her in safety to hide; also making it a twist on James & Lily's choice to BOTH hide; rather than them being a teen romance who were only together a few months before breaking up

Thematically, it's resonant if Harry returns to the castle to save it maybe 11 years again after he first joined it, aged 11, half his life ago. This - and retrieving the tiara from the ROR on that return - is also a neat dramatic parallel to Voldemort putting it there in the first place when he returned to the castle as an adult for the first time

But perhaps most importantly; making Voldemort's defeat later in the characters' arc means that JK gets to have her own 'Scouring of the Shire' with how Hogwarts has warped and changed under years of Voldemort's rule - which provides intense dramatic impetus to justify Harry & co's desire to 'put things back how they were' and lionize, no pun intended, the old status quo; instead of it coming off that Harry and his friends experience trauma through their first interactions with the Wizarding World in their first 5-6 years, then Voldemort takes that up to 11 in year 7, but their response in year 8 & beyond is that just bringing it back down to the initial years' baseline trauma would cover all bases as a satisfying solution.

(Perhaps controversial) theories on Harry Potter first drafts/story structure

I've been reading some more old Harry Potter meta (critique) (damn I miss those LiveJournal esque communities) and after some of the theories I've read I'm now 90% sure that Deathly Hallows was actually the third, or maybe even second book that Joanne started writing.

I love deconstruction and I am a writer, so this kind of thing interests me on a personal level as a high-profile reference that a lot of people might be familiar with, even as generally I have strong critiques for Joanne both as a person, and as what I consider to be something of an impostor in the fantasy genre, as a writer who both openly (at the start of her career) disavowed fantasy classics as beneath her, claimed not to be writing fantasy, and in my opinion, heavily plagiarised works of other authors within the genre and then played ignorant when called out on it by people who by that point had less power and industry clout than she did.

This is going to be critical of JKR, so for those not interested in that, maybe don't read on below the cut. It's not my intention to make anyone feel negative about something that's special or sacred to them.

Some members of the LJ community noted that Deathly Hallows (DH) has many, many recurring references and callbacks to the first book, Philosopher's Stone (PS), with certain characters even seeming to regress to those versions of them in terms of their behaviors, motivations, and what they centrally held as important.

After considering it again I've also come to the conclusion that that's one aspect that throws so many readers off DH as a conclusion to the series, a series that has 'grown up with' the reader and consciously shifted from children's lit to YA; and from a series of fantasy holiday movies helmed by Chris Columbus to a fantasy adventure series with gruesome monsters and wands becoming essentially the ranged weapon variant of lightsabers or the conduit for MCU-esque superhero abilities... that in terms of the writing, the morals, and the overarching themes, actually DH goes backward in that regard to the Roald Dahl-inspired simple morality of the first book where violence was cartoonish, monsters were existential rather than grounded, and Harry and friends were essentially young children trying their best to solve a mystery; rather than the adults the world has contextually by now established them to be.

Joanne has boasted that she had written the Epilogue very early on. What if she had in fact written out a lot of DH very early on?

She knew the books were going to cover (at least) seven school years. I think she decided after the first one, she would write (most of) the end of the series, and then if she needed to, she could write more than 5 other books in between.

DH takes place when Harry isn't in school. But nothing about the story means it has to take place when Harry should be in school.

Thematic and character-based parallels-wise, it might have actually made a lot of sense for Harry to be the same age that his parents were when they passed away, in Deathly Hallows, to make the walk through to the forest with his parents' ghosts, back the same age as they were when he first saw them in the Mirror of Erised more of an exact parallel tearjerker.

And a lot of the criticisms that DH faces - "why didn't we see inside Hogwarts during Snape's regime, and what happened to Neville, Luna and Ginny and the rest of the kids in Harry's year?" - would be nixed if this story was never meant to take place in Harry's final school year.

I suspect that what happened at some point during the height of her fame and blowup is that Joanne realised that a) she was so successful already she wouldn't have to write as many books as she had originally planned; especially because b) movies were now also in the works or being released, and the actors would only be believable as teenagers for a certain duration, but this led to c) now she had a smaller total possible number of books in which to fit all of her vague ideas of where the story would end up going and what the big setpieces were planned to be. (Hence the lengths started to balloon)

I might end up writing a part 2 to this because (ironically) I don't want to make this post so long, but as a starting point I would theorize her original outline may have gone something like the following:

Book 1, Harry Potter and the Philsopher's Stone. Establishes our characters and the main setpieces; Harry Potter, Ron-and-Hermione (who essentially function as a two-headed sidekick machine), Snape, Dumbledore, Voldemort, James-and-Lily-Potter

X number of books, as-yet undefined, at least one per school year, but potentially many more, like most contemporaries to her went in to their careers expecting to write, that expand on the young characters' relationships in small ways, with Draco Malfoy, his foil friends to HRH, and his family, as minor antagonists to drag out the series as long as possible - and never intended as more than that, while Dumbledore and Snape bubble away in the background

Harry's final year of school, in which Dumbledore is killed by Snape in front of Harry at the climax of the year, is buried in the school grounds, and Snape ascends to the Headmaster role

Only then at some point, Voldemort is resurrected and takes pride of place as the main villain, pushing Snape down into the secondary villain/antihero role

The final book in which Harry returns to Hogwarts a la Lord of the Rings/The Empire Strikes back, too late to have a confrontation with Snape (a classic tragic beat) and instead has his showdown with Voldemort, finishing his parents' legacy and completing what they themselves could not do.

I genuinely believe that all of the following were late additions to the story that ended up taking on a life of their own with the fandom, that Joanne never planned for, never really anticipated, and - because we know that she is both stubborn to change in general, and sees herself as a visionary above steer or critique - refused to meaningfully update or edit around in the final version of the last book:

Sirius Black existing at all

Remus Lupin existing at all

Peter Pettigrew existing at all

Fudge, Umbridge, and the Ministry-vs-Dumbledore/Harry sideplot - which, knowing that Joanne is a woman of faith, reeks of a 'skeptical nonbelievers vs true Christians of faith' plot

Luna

Everything about the Triwizard Tournament

Everything about the Yule Ball

Everything about the World Cup (I would go as far as proposing these were originally planned as three episodic books that she ended up blending together)

Spotlight Death Eaters like Barty Crouch and Bellatrix Lestrange

The Founders, the Basilisk, and the Sword of Gryffindor

The Horcruxes

Anything about magical creatures, aside from as episodic flavor to provide a one-off background character

International characters like Fleur, Krum and Madame Maxime

Most fight scenes, including everything with the Dept of Mysteries

Grimmauld Place and Kreacher

And perhaps controversially, most of the racist/blood war elements of the conflict in the books. Because, in DH, apart from flavor description of what the Death Eaters etc. are doing...

The conflict described seems, as it did in PS, to be primarily a personal one, with Voldemort's vendetta being against Harry specifically, and as a proxy, Dumbledore's followers, and people who believed in him and his ideals.

And maybe that's why Harry, the character, never seems to end up caring that much about the foundational principles of why they are fighting the war, and who it is actually there to protect, besides his personal connection with Voldemort as his personal nemesis...

Because Joanne never originally wrote it that way. Voldemort dies, and "all was well."

[ravenwolfie97]

i can't sleep and i want to fight youtube

[trashytracktales]

Ma'am, I just found your profile and I'm in love with your writing. I would really like to make a request that you made (After McLaren's victory today I was inspired haha)

Could you please write a short one for Lando where he and his girlfriend enjoy the WCC celebration party so much that they don't even have time for themselves (not that it's a big deal for them), but in the next morning the reader wakes up feeling Lando half hard on her back, while they're spooning, so she decides to wake him up with a handjob. So one thing leads to another and they end up having a slow, intense and delicious morning sex.

(if you don't feel comfortable writing, please just ignore. I will totally understand)

Orange glow | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Thank you so much for your support! Enjoy this one 🤍

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𐙚 summary ──── After McLaren wins the 2024 Constructors' Championship and Lando dominates the Abu Dhabi GP, the night is full of partying. But the real celebration happens in the morning, hidden between the sheets, and far away from the outside world.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── +18, mature/sexual content, fluff & smut, descriptive language, unprotected sex, swearing, established relationship, mentions of alcohol and drinking, post-race tension, spooning, slow morning sex, shower sex, hyping each other up, reader tries to be funny towards the end, quick Lily Zneimer cameo.

𐙚 word count ──── 3.5k

𐙚 date ──── Dec. 9, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── I literally have a list of requests piling up, but I had to jump on this one immediately after last night, oop. I'm a Ferrari girlie through and through, and I'm not going to get into the details of how many times I cried this season, however, I'm so proud of the McLaren boys, and everything they've accomplished. A season to remember for sure. Now let the horrors (winter break) begin 🥲👍🏻

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﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

THE WEEKEND STARTED with a lot of pressure, even though the odds were in their favor. And it continued that way on Sunday, after Oscar's Turn 1 incident. Luckily, Lando's teammate had managed to claw his way back into the points by the end of the race. Lando, on the other hand, had been untouchable ever since the lights went out, his car gliding through each lap with precision and speed as if he was running on hopes and old dreams.

His girlfriend watched it all unfold from the garage, her heart constantly in her throat as every sector time flashed on the screens. When the checkered flag finally dropped, she could finally breathe, knowing how much Lando has been stressing about it, especially after the weekend in Qatar.

By the time the podium ceremony begins, the entire paddock is buzzing; she's absolutely sure that no place on Earth is ever as loud as the paddock when someone wins.

Tonight, it's her boy.

In the sea of radiant faces, Lando manages to spot her without any issues and, for a brief moment, their eyes meet. He raises the bottle in her direction, grinning mischievously, before pop it on the podium step and shaking it up, drenching his team principal and the two Ferraris from head to toe.

She laughs, her chest warm with so much pride and love.

After that, it takes Lando a couple of hours before he finally makes it back to her. Post-race duties pull him in a hundred different directions — sometimes simultaneously — media interviews, debriefs, and lots of photo sessions. But when he sees her waiting outside the McLaren hospitality suite, he breaks away from the crowd without hesitation.

“What's a pretty girl like you doing here, hm? You should've waited inside,” says Lando, his voice low, but full of warmth as he wraps his arms around his girlfriend.

He smells faintly of champagne and sweat that mixed with his perfume and natural scent, a heady blend that reminds her of everything he’s just achieved for both himself and his team. The adrenaline it's still floating in the air, and she can feel the buzz of it in the way he's touching her.

“I did,” she replies, looking up at him. “But it took forever, and I got bored.”

It doesn't take long for camera flashes to capture the moment, and Lando takes off his cap to cover their faces, as he leans in to steal a gentle kiss from her before heading back inside.

THE MUSIC IS pretty much deafening, and the lights are a kaleidoscope of neon orange. The celebrations continue into the night, while Lando is — oh, so shockingly — the life of the party, moving from one group to the next with a constant drink in hand, his laughter ringing melodious above the bass.

She stays close but lets him have the spotlight. This is his night, after all, and she wants him to enjoy every single moment. Still, Lando always finds ways to include her by dragging her onto the dance floor for a song, or pulling her into photos with the team, and brushing kisses against her temple as they weave through the crowd.

It gets tiring at times, so she chooses to disappear for a couple of minutes back at their table; a good opportunity to regain control over her breathing, and maybe down another shot. This time, she finds herself watching Lando moving anything but gracefully on the dance floor. He looks like he's yelling, while aggressively gesturing in Oscar's direction, the two of them laughing over something she can’t hear. The sight makes her chest tighten with affection, though. They both seem so carefree right now, so unburdened, and she realizes how rare that is. The season has been the longest ever, and it was filled with so much pressure and expectations. But tonight, all of that has melted away.

“Having fun?” she hears a soft voice from behind her, then her senses are invaded by a faint floral scent.

She turns in her seat to see Lily, her cheeks flushed from the heat, with her smile as contagious as ever.

“More than I expected,” she finally replies, returning the smile and raising her glass to take another sip. “It’s hard not to when I see them like that,” she adds, pointing at their boyfriends.

Lily laughs, nodding slowly. “On the way here, I overheard that they want to get a tattoo in Zak's honor.”

“Oh, fuck no.”

The two girls exchange a look, their eyes locking in a silent agreement. It's their cue to step in, take control, and save their boyfriends from their drunken selves.

It’s past three in the morning when the party starts to wind down. Lando finds her near the bar, his hair a tousled, curly mess and his shirt unbuttoned. He looks exhausted but genuinely happy and satisfied, his eyes bright with the lingering adrenaline of the night.

“Ready to head back, mon amour?” he asks in a broken French accent, slipping an arm around her waist.

She nods, leaning into him. “Thought they'd never wear you out.”

“Pff. FYI, I've got plenty of energy left,” he says determined, smirking down at his girlfriend and watching as her thin fingers button up his shirt.

She giggles, knowing it's not even close to the truth, “Of course you do.”

The ride back to their hotel is quiet, proving her that she was right to not believe him earlier. Lando rests his head against her shoulder, his hand holding hers, fingers intertwined on top of her lap. She can feel the tiredness creeping in, but her heart is still skipping a beat every time Lando brushes his thumb over her knuckles.

When they finally step into their room, he lets out a long sigh, kicking off his shoes and collapsing onto the bed.

“Fuuucking hell. I can't feel my toes, is that fucking normal?” he mumbles into the pillow.

She chuckles, sitting down beside him to take her heels off. “You just turned a two-syllable word into four, so you tell me. I could barely keep up with you, baby. I'm not surprised you're absolutely wrecked,” she admits, lowering herself over his back to give him a small kiss on the cheek.

He sighs, flipping his body the other way, looking up at her with a tired but content smile. “Totally worth it, though.”

She places another kiss, to his jaw this time, her fingers gently caressing his cheek. “I'm so proud of you, pretty boy. I hope you know that.”

Lando's eyes soften, and he reaches up to take her hand in his, letting it rest over his chest. “Couldn't have done a lot of things without you... You kept me sane this season.”

She shakes her head, but he squeezes her hand, his expression earnest. “I didn’t—”

“Baby, I mean it,” he interrupts her vehemently, “Thank you.”

They don’t talk much after that, the exhaustion of the night catching up to them both. Finally, when they change and slip properly under the blanket, they fall asleep together, the hum of the city below fading into the background.

THE EARLY SUN spills into the room, casting long shadows over the tangle of sheets. She stirs first, her senses awakening to the quiet hum of Lando's soft snoring. Usually, she would push him on the other side so she won't hear him anymore, but she knows how tired he was just a few hours ago.

His arm is slung loosely around her waist, holding her close to him as if she might disappear. She shifts slightly, and that’s when she feels him — it — a familiar pressure nestled against her ass, half-hard and stirring with his own slow wakefulness.

A small smile tugs at her lips as she stays still for a moment.

The rest of Lando's body is relaxed against hers, but even in his sleep, he responds to her presence, which makes her heart race. Carefully, she reaches back, her hand slipping under the waistband of his boxers. The moment her fingers curl around his cock, Lando lets out a soft, muffled groan, instinctively pressing closer. At that, he wakes slowly, the low sound rumbling in his chest as he tightens his grip around her waist.

“Mm... ‘morning, baby,” he greets her with a thick, rough voice, filled with sleep. However, there’s a teasing edge to it as he pushes his hips more intently into her hand.

“Good morning, champ,” she murmurs in a playful tone, her hand continuing its lazy strokes, rubbing the sensitive head of his cock in circles with her thumb.

He hisses, pressing his lips against the nape of her neck, his warm breath sending a shiver down her spine. “You waking me up like this just because I won?” mumbles Lando, his lips curling into a soft smirk against her skin.

She lets out a quiet chuckle, but doesn’t reply, focusing instead on the way he hardens fully in her small fist, the weight of him in her hand so familiar and thrilling.

“Fuck, I lose it when you touch me like that,” says Lando, fully woken up by now. “Feels so good, baby.”

Hearing that, she perfects her strokes, feeling the pre-cum coating the palm of her hand, smiling mischievously when she manages to pull another moan out of his mouth.

“Do you have to be somewhere today?” she finally asks.

Lando sighs in pleasure, his hips eager to move in the same rhythm as her hand, “Not until after lunch. Why?”

He knows where she's hinting with her innocent question, but he enjoys hearing her talk.

She laughs lightly, feeling his cock begin to throb slightly in her grip. “I just wanted to celebrate some more.”

Lando's hand slides down her body, instinctively, warm and purposeful, as he grips her thigh and drapes her leg over his hip.

“Alright then,” he whispers, his voice low and filled with a lazy, husky need.

Before she can speak again, he shifts behind her, freeing his throbbing cock and lining himself up, pressing into her in one slow, languid motion, thankful he has such easy access to her so early in the morning. Her breath catches in her throat, her hand clutching at the sheets as he fills her completely, the heat of him spreading through her like fire.

“Lando,” she breathes in sharply, her voice tinged with need, her ass pushing back against him.

Lando's arm tightens around her waist, pulling her even closer as he starts to move. His pace is slow, deliberate, each thrust a deep, measured push that sends shivers down her spine. The angle is perfect, his hips pressing against her as he drives into her from behind, her leg draped over his to open her up to him completely.

“Oh, god,” she moans, bringing her free hand to the back of Lando's head, lightly tugging at his hair.

“You always feel so good in the morning, baby—fuck,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against her shoulder as he moves. His free hand slides up her body, cupping her breast under the fabric of his shirt she's wearing, and teasing her nipple between his fingers. “So warm and ready for me, I could slip inside even in my sleep, hm?”

As a response, her head falls back against his chest, her hand continuing to thread through his hair as Lando buries his face in her neck. Each thrust is so agonizingly slow, almost testing her patience, but every single one is filled with a quiet intensity that steals the breath from her lungs. His hands are suddenly everywhere — cupping her breasts, brushing over her stomach, gripping her hips as he pulls her back against him with undeniable strength.

“Shit,” he murmurs against her skin, his voice low and reverent, “You make me so fucking hard,” Lando adds breathlessly. “So perfect around my cock every. Single. Time,” he accentuates the words with each thrust.

His sleepy voice sends a fresh wave of heat through her, her body trembling as she grips the sheets tighter, trying to hold on to the feeling of him fucking her like that. Too soon, their movements grow less coordinated as they both near the edge, their breaths coming faster, blending together in the quiet room.

“Lan…” she gasps, her voice breaking as his hand slides lower, his fingers finding her clit.

“Come on my cock, baby. I’ve got you,” he whispers, his voice rough with need as his fingers work in time with his slow, deep thrusts. “Let go for me.”

“Oh, fuck,” she cries out, her thighs wanting to press together in pleasure, but Lando's other hand holds her open for him, the slick sound of him pushing in and out of her pussy, an exquisite melody for his ears.

Soon enough, her body tenses, her moans turning into soft whimpers as she comes, her release washing over her in waves that leave her legs shaking. Lando follows moments later, his thrusts growing erratic before he stills inside her, his body shuddering as he presses himself as deep as he can.

They take a long moment to breathe, their bodies joined together. His hand brushes soothing circles over her stomach, his lips pressing lazy kisses to her shoulder and neck, before pulling the shirt over her head so he can feel her in his arms without any obstacles.

“You’re dangerous as hell when you wake me up like this,” he finally speaks, his voice raw.

She laughs, her body still humming with the aftershocks. “Are you complaining?”

“Not even a little,” he admits, pulling her closer and nuzzling into her neck, inhaling her scent.

They stay just like that for a while, making her wonder if Lando fell back asleep, but then he presses one more kiss to her shoulder, his lips lingering there as he shifts, pulling gently out of her. The instant emptiness draws a soft gasp from her, and they both feel the warmth of their shared release slipping between them, dampening the sheets beneath.

He lets out a quiet chuckle, his hand trailing down her thigh before slipping back between her legs. Slowly, his fingers press into her fucked out pussy, gathering as much cum as he can so he can push it back inside.

“God, you're so dirty, baby,” he murmurs against her ear, his voice a mix of affection and playful reprimand. “You should probably take a shower, I'm just saying.”

Her heart starts racing again at the sweet sensation of his fingers, but she doesn’t let him have the last word. She finally turns around in his arms, wanting to see his pretty face bathed in the orange glow of the morning. Her lips find his in a superficial kiss, as one of her hands wraps around his body, pressing firmly against the small of his back and pulling him closer. As their bodies press together, his cock rests between their stomachs, still half-hard and slick with the remnants of their orgasms.

She breaks the kiss just long enough to smirk up at him, her voice teasing as she murmurs, “Yeah? Look who’s talking.”

Lando groans, his head falling back against the pillow as he laughs softly. “Touché,” he whispers, his hands gripping her waist.

Before she can say anything else, he flips them over, pulling her on top of him with an effortless motion. She straddles his hips, her thighs pressing into his, her pussy pressing down on his length. They both exhale at the wet feeling between their bodies, but none of them dares to make another sudden move.

“I wanted to take you in the middle of the dance floor last night,” admits Lando, his hands sliding up to cup her hips, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin there.

“Why didn't you?” she counters, her voice playful as she leans down to kiss him again.

“You would've let me, wouldn't you? Fuck you where everyone can see how pretty you look with my cock inside you?”

She presses one more kiss to his lips, mostly to shut him up, “I'd let you fuck me anywhere you want, my love.”

Lando's fingers tighten around her waist, making her whimper against his jaw, “So fucking easy for me, baby. You're gonna end me one of these days.”

“Not today, though,” she exhales abruptly, fucking her hips onto Lando's length, with no intention other than teasing him.

“Behave,” he says softly, cupping the back of her head in his palm so he can pull her back into a sinful kiss.

They linger there for a while, the morning hues catching in the strands of his messy hair and the faint sheen of sweat on their skin. It’s warm, so intimate, and entirely theirs — a connection that no one can take away nor break.

Eventually, Lando lets out a mock-serious sigh, his hands sliding up her back, stopping roughly at her thighs to squeeze her. “Alright, gorgeous. Shower time. Before we ruin these sheets completely.”

She laughs, climbing off him and wincing slightly at the sticky mess between her thighs. He catches the movement and smirks, playfully slapping her ass as he sits up.

“Come on,” says Lando, taking her hand and pulling her towards the bathroom.

The shower is already steaming up when they step inside, the hot water cascading over their bodies. Lando's fingers are lazily tracing patterns on her back, hers tangling in his wet hair as they share languid kisses under the spray.

“Do you even know what you mean to me?” he whispers, his voice low and filled with adoration. His hands trail up her back, fingers tracing her curves, memorizing every inch of her, all over again. “What you do for me? God, I don't need anything else.”

Her cheeks warm, though whether from his words or the water, she isn’t sure. She tilts her head up, her smile soft and full of affection for him. “Lando, I’m just here for you. You’re the one out there doing the impossible every single day. My champion.”

He lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he presses his forehead against hers. “You're so sweet, love. But you know I'm not a champion yet, my team is.”

Her hands slide up his chest, fingers resting over his heart as she gazes at him, her voice steady and determined. “You are McLaren, Lan. You and Oscar, hold everything together. It's a great responsibility, and I've seen what it did to you this year. The good, the bad, and everything in between.”

For a moment, Lando goes silent, his eyes softening as he takes her in. The quiet between them is filled with the sound of the water, and everything he wants to say to her but can't. It'd be too soon, and he has a habit of letting his mouth loose when his emotions get the best of him.

She notices that, and she knows he's working on it, that's why she won't let the moment grow too serious, “Though, to be fair, Oscar has done you and McLaren a lot of favors this season, no?”

Lando’s startled laugh echoes off the tiled walls, and he pulls back to look at her, his grin wide and mischievous. “Oh, yeah? Is that what we’re doing now?”

Before she can respond, he presses her back against the cool tiles, his hands gripping her thighs as he lifts her slightly, her back arching under the contrast of the chilled surface and the hot water.

“Lando!” she gasps in surprise.

“You take that back,” he growls playfully, his lips capturing hers in a possessive kiss that knocks all the air out of her lungs.

Her laughter dissolves into a moan as he pushes into her again, slow and deep, filling her completely. Her legs wrap around his waist, anchoring herself against him as he pulls out all the way, only to slam back inside, setting a rhythm that’s somehow both lazy and desperate.

The shower fills with the sound of water splashing and the soft, breathless moans that escape her lips, her head falling back against the tiles as he buries his face in her neck. His hands grip her thighs harder, holding her steady as he thrusts deeper, each motion pulling gasps and cries from both of them.

“You saying Oscar’s better than me?” he teases, his voice strained but filled with humor.

“Maybe,” she jokes, breathing out sharply, her nails raking down his back as she arches into him. “But you’re doing a stellar job convincing me otherwise.”

Lando's laugh is low and breathless, turning into a groan as he quickens his pace.

For a lot of people, winning means lifting a trophy above their heads, but for him, it's the rhythm of their bodies moving together — a louder kind of triumph that manifests into delicious moans and whimpers.

It's the kind of podium he will never get tired of stepping on.

PREVIOUS LN⁴ ONE-SHOT

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[gotta-winwin]

OT13 Reaction -- the aha moment

or...how they realize they're in love with you

seungcheol doesn't get that aha moment, falling in love isn't something that happens within seconds for him. it's like he's slowly drifting into love, not even realizing you've become the focal point of his entire existence. when it finally hits him, it's a quiet, simple moment. he's watching you make him breakfast in the morning, admiring you quietly from the kitchen counter. he zones out for a moment, blinking suddenly and realizing damn. that's my woman. and he knows he's ruined for life.

it's kind of silly, how jeonghan realizes he's in love with you. he's just returned home from a busy day at work, entering the house to find it empty. searching the place top to bottom, he's about to call you when - BOO - you jump out from one of the closets and scares the soul out of him. he's clutching his chest, watching as you collapse onto the ground in a fit of giggles. he can't help but laugh along, realizing through the chaos that he's found his soulmate, and he'd be damned not to admit he's in love with you.

joshua's a simple man by nature. he's easily happy in life, only needing his members, his job, his lifestyle, and of course, you. it doesn't take long into your relationship before he realizes he's in love, as the two of you take a stroll along the Han River after a long day. he's watching the setting sun reflect against your figure, taking his phone out to snap a few pictures. it's when he notices his camera roll is full of pictures of you does he think well, that's it. i'm in love.

upon meeting his family, jun notices how much work you've put into it. you're doing your best to speak his town's dialect, communicating with his parents in a language that made them most comfortable. his heart swells when he sees you amidst his childhood home, trading stories and eating with the people who raised him. it's when he notes that you look so perfect here that he realizes you just fit. he's in love.

as if everything else is with soonyoung, his aha moment is full of fireworks and pizzazz. having just finished the most record breaking performance of his life, he finds himself with one thought only: i want to go home. usually, it's because he's tired. but now, ever since you stumbled into his life, he finds himself wanting, needing, to go home so he can hold you and recite everything that happened today. he's practically thrumming with energy to rush home, and everyone around him sees what is so painfully obvious. he's so in love.

wonwoo's always credited himself to be a loner. not a lot of people can fit with his quiet personality, so when you offer the idea of "parallel play" he's a little confused. his heart warms when you explain that you don't mind doing separate things as long as you're in the same area, understanding that he needs more time to himself than others might. it's when you tell him you love him enough to compromise does he think im so in love with this girl right now.

woozi's used to writing songs dedicated to his fans and members. he sits down for another writing session, brainstorming ideas and the thought of you pops into his mind. he shrugs, thinking it might be nice to mix it up a bit, sitting down to write something about you. it's when he reads his own words back does he realize he's irrevocably screwed and so in love with you. thought about settling down, buying her a house and saying screw the music. yeah, he's in love.

having always been a realist, minghao doesn't necessary believe in true love, or love at first sight. he understands there's going to be someone out there for him, but he's skeptical that that someone is going to be perfect. all his beliefs go out the window the moment he sees you - it's like you're surrounded by a golden glow - and he realizes maybe love at first sight can be real.

seokmin loves and gives as easy as breathing. he's always been a generous guy, and it's when you sit him down and kindly remind him to leave some for himself does he stare at you and realize ok i've found the one. you've become that steadiness in his life that used to be just his members, and you love and give to him like it's as simple as breathing too.

having always been the resident cook, mingyu's eyeing your food creation like it's some kind of poison or drug. he had insisted you didn't need to cook for him, he's always been the cook and doesn't mind it, but you were stubborn and he relented. it's when the first bite blows him away does he realize he kinda misses having someone cook for him too. if you're this good at cooking i might just have to marry you, he says, ignoring how you blush, going back for another bite.

seungkwan's always been the entertainer. he doesn't mind it, he enjoys the fact it's his job to make everyone laugh. but when times get tough and he's in no mood to be the entertainer, you're right there to support him. it's when he gets home to you after a particularly rough day and you welcome him in with open arms, murmuring how he's done well and doesn't need to do more. it's when he realizes he can just be seungkwan - not seungkwan the entertainer, but just seungkwan - and he loves you for that.

vernon never really thought about finding the one. he always just assumed that they would find him. and that's exactly what happens, when you bump into each other at the movie theatre - both there alone just cause. it's when you're enthusiastically going band for band with vernon about movies that he's forced with the realization that shit. maybe i have found the one.

chan's always known he was in love with you. he doesn't like to admit it cause he thinks it makes him sound sappy, but he truly never questioned his love for you. it was a simple thing in his mind - this person makes me so fucking happy - i must be in love. and how could it not be simple for him? he's staring at you quipping about some joke to his friends and he's thinking i love you. he's watching you just wake up from a nap and he's thinking i love you. he sees a text from you on his phone mid-dance practice. i love you. he's always been in love with you because he loves everything to do with you.

[foone]

There exist another dimension called The Empty World. It's very much like ours, in fact it seems to have been identical up until a few weeks ago, but it always seems that way. If you go there today, it was identical in late february, and if you go there this october, it'll have been identical until september.

It's empty, as you might guess. There's no humans, and no animals bigger than a cockroach. The sky is grey, and it slowly rains ash. It's colder than our world by a bit, enough to require a jacket even in summer. The streets are empty, the cars parked neatly in their garages or in lots, but they're all empty and abandoned, their doors locked like they expect their owners to return any minute now.

The newspapers left on stands don't mention any oncoming disaster. We have no idea what the TV or internet would have said: the power is out. The power is very, very out. Not just the grid, but batteries are drained. The cars won't start, the emergency lights are out, and anything with solar panels seems to be getting less energy than you'd expect, even with the perpetually overcast sky.

It's a very silent world, like the calm after a snowstorm. Sounds don't seem to echo as much as they should, nor does sound seem to travel as far. The radio spectrum is empty except for static, there's no one transmitting on any frequency.

There's fewer fires than you'd expect. Even places you'd expect to soon catch fire without human intervention are still standing, undamaged. Campfires can be lit but with difficulty: something is keeping them from burning as they should. Even if you pour kerosene on a campfire it'll barely grow, it's like something sucked the energy out of everything.

All the locked buildings are still locked. Alarms don't sound if you break in (understandable, given the power situation), and of course no one comes to investigate. So The Empty World is your oyster: you can break in wherever you want (provided you can physically do it: some doors are pretty hard to pry open even with tools), take whatever you want, and bring it back here.

Everything resets when you leave. You always enter The Empty World like it's your first time there, like this just happened and you're late to the party... but the party keeps getting rescheduled. You can even take something multiple times if you want.

When you enter The Empty World you get there at the same relative position as you are on this world. If you're in New York, you show up in the empty New York. If you're in Topeka, you show up in empty Topeka. So you have to travel around this world to get to where you want, and you can't just appear in the middle of a bank vault... unless you break into the vault from this world. (So it's great if you work at a bank and want to steal from your employer without repercussions, but not so useful otherwise).

You don't just have to take things, you know. You can take computers and files and books and diaries. You will have to deal with recharging laptops and breaking through any security when you get back, but it's doable.

So, imagine you've just gotten access to The Empty World. What are you going to do with it? What will you take, and where will you go?

[allyricas]

imagine if eddie never got caught up in the upside down stuff in season 4. all the same people are still vecna'd, but chrissy never sought out eddie for drugs at school that day so he is oblivious to everything going on.

maybe he spends spring break playing music with the guys and getting drunk in the back of his van.

or, better yet, he's not even in town at all. he and the other members of corroded coffin are in indy for battle of the bands.

in fact, he literally has no clue what happened until he sees the news about the earthquake and he rushes back to make sure uncle wayne is alright. he's freaking out because when he calls his trailer numerous times, no one answers. he tries calling the plant to look for his uncle and they say he didn't show up to work.

chrissy was too intimidated to seek him out at school even in the privacy of the woods, so instead later that evening she goes to the trailer to look for him. she still gets vecna'd and the trailer becomes a gate.

eddie is never a suspect since he has a verifiable alibi. wayne still finds chrissy's body the next morning and still helps by telling nancy about henry creel. he can tell the teens are about to do something reckless and dangerous so he gets involved and ends up in the upside down instead of eddie.

he turns out to be very handy with various weapons and has a mind for battle strategy thus the party having a much better plan.

they win this time. steve gets really hurt, like nearly dies. wayne is the one who carries him out of the upside down and helps make sure he doesn't bleed out. they form a bond and wayne refuses to leave his side at the lab.

which is why eddie can't get ahold of him.

imagine eddie rushing back into hawkins only to eventually find out chrissy cunningham died on the porch of his trailer and that no one's heard from his uncle in days. he finds out from dustin that his uncle is at the hospital standing vigil over steve harrington's bedside, of all freaking people.

wayne looks pretty roughed up, but he's safe and he's okay. eddie is so relieved to see him with his own eyes that the reality of everything doesn't really sink in.

after everything is settled, the government compensates wayne with a new home. everything could have been a lot worse were he not involved and the earthquake split the trailer in two.

it's nothing fancy, just a three bedroom home on a nice plot of land. it's cosy and there's room for a fire pit in the backyard, maybe even a garden and a chicken coop. wayne manages to make anywhere feel like home, but this place has a certain charm.

once steve is well enough to go home, wayne all but insists that steve comes home with him and eddie. wayne tells steve he has a permanent home with him, that they're family. for once in his life, steve let's himself be loved and taken care of by an adult. wayne is everything his parents could never be.

wayne's heard all about steve's parents, noted that they never showed up to see their son and wayne doesn't want steve rotting alone in his big house. wayne always had a habit of picking up strays after all.

the problem with the situation is, of course, that eddie doesn't like steve. in fact, he absolutely cannot stand him and does not understand why his uncle is suddenly so close with him.

he steadfastly believes in his munson doctrine and has no plans to reevaluate. steve is a douchebag jock. in his mind, there's no way he has actually changed into this funny, dorky man who hangs out with his uncle for fun and drives around the younger teens just because he likes them.

he can't actually be best friends with band nerd robin buckley or close to his ex and her boyfriend. he can't be the man who put his body in front of someone else's. he can't be the man who smiles softly at eddie while he makes his snarky comments and refuses to budge and inch on his dislike.

steve harrington who helps his uncle plant a garden and build his chicken coop. who cooks and bakes far better than some rich kid should be able to. who asks about his band and hellfire and his books. who is far funnier than he has any right to be.

so, eddie is all snarky comments and rolled eyes every time he comes home to wayne and steve watching a game together. he is so jealous and can't say anything since wayne adores the guy...and since steve almost died.

he pretends that all the things he's learning about him must be a trick or a lie. steve can't be this person who fits so seamlessly into his life. even the other members of his band warm up to him

eddie will not budge. nope. never.

wayne knows his nephew. knows that eddie would like steve if he just gave him a chance. watches the way his nephew watches steve and waits for the day the eddie realizes what he thinks is loathing is a lot closer to something else. he loves the boy, but knows what a stubborn ass he can be.

steve likes eddie immediately and thinks he's adorable. he thinks eddie is cute when he's annoyed, enjoys the way he huffs and rolls his eyes. he is content to wait for eddie to catch up. he and wayne gossip over coffee and the subject has come up a time or two (or many) and wayne insists that eddie will figure it out eventually.

imagine a world where eddie never gets involved with the upside down but wayne does. even in this world he and steve are inevitable. wayne sees it the minute he watches them interact the first time in the hospital. he has a feeling they'd have found their way to each other somehow. he knows steve was meant to be apart of their family.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Coffee Crossfire: Part 2

Fandom: Marvel (Mob Boss AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: You own a cafe in Brooklyn, Bucky Barnes’ territory. You occasionally let him hold meetings in the cafe after hours and things usually go well….but not this time.

Part 1

Your anger and frustration towards Bucky fizzled out after two days. You knew that it really wasn't his fault the cafe got shot up. He told you firsthand when you bought the property of the risks of having a business in his territory. But he always reassured you that whatever damage happens, he'd take care of it.

Like a true mob boss, he kept his word.

Even with his busy schedule, he came in every day to help oversee the work that was being done. He wasn't much help though. You'd tell his men what to do, what goes where, how things should look, etc. He just pays for everything.

However, when some of the new tables and chairs came in, you put Bucky to work.

While everyone was working in the front, you and Bucky assembled the furniture towards the back of the cafe. Bucky looked at the instructions and let out a breath of relief, "Thank god these have written out instructions. Not like other instructions where it's all pictures. Shit gets confusing."

You snicker as you lay out the pieces by their labelled sticker, "Honestly, these shouldn't be too hard to do. They're similar to the ones I had before."

"Ready when you are, boss," Bucky says with a smile.

You snort, "Never thought I'd hear you call anyone else 'boss'."

He shrugs, "You're the only one I'll listen to, sugar," he gives you a wink and you look away as your cheeks start to heat up.

You can't deny that Bucky is attractive, funny, and charming. He's also sweet and intimidating, but also caring. Sure what he does isn't lawful in any means, however, he cares for everyone in his family's territory. He knows everyone by name, helps them when they ask, and make sure everyone's protected and safe.

You told yourself when you first met him not get close to him, but years later, you know you're more than close to Bucky. You two are attached to the hip. At first, you considered him as a friend, but in the most recent years, you've started to see him as more. That scares you a little.

You moved to Brooklyn to get away from those feelings and here you are, right back to where you were. All because of Bucky Barnes.

You love him. You know you truly do, you're just not sure if he feels the same. Sure he flirts with you, but he doesn't mean it. You've seen him flirt with a bunch of other people too, so it definitely doesn't mean anything when he flirts with you.

"Sugar, gimme a hand?" he breaks you from your thoughts.

"Sure," you move closer to him, "What do you need?"

"Just hold these two pieces together while I screw this in."

"M'kay," you hold to pieces of a chair together, and Bucky twists the screwdriver to secure them in place. Your face is close to his, you smell the coffee on his breath and his expensive cologne. You see the bags under his eyes and it makes you frown.

"There. Than-what's with the frown?"

"You haven't been sleeping well," when he looks at you confused, you point to his face, "the bags under your eyes. Bucky, you should be at home resting, not spending early mornings with me here."

"It's fine, sugar."

"No, it's not. You should be well rested because you have a lot of work to do-"

"And they're getting done, just not all by me. Things are getting handled, Y/N, don't worry. I wanna be here."

"Why? Nothing much for you to do here. Your guys have it covered."

He shrugs, "Just in case you need me or," he gestures to the furniture pieces, "need someone to help you build furniture." He smiles when you giggle. His heart flutters, "I'll be here every day until you tell me to fuck off."

"But why?" you genuinely ask him in curiosity.

He looks away from you and at the half-assembled chair in front of him, "Because I do what I can for the people I love." He then clears his throat and goes back to assembling the chair.

You stare at him in disbelief. He loves you. Bucky Barnes just said he loves you. He-

Bucky's phone starts ringing and he answers it. He hugs it between his ear and his shoulder as he screws in another piece of the chair, "Yeah?" He listens to the caller and lets out a long sigh, "Alright. I'll be over in a bit. Keep 'em awake. Bye."

You look at him with concern, "Everything okay?"

"Got more info on the guys who shot us up. Need to meet with Romanoff." Bucky grunts as he stands, pocketing his phone. His runs a hand through his brunette locks, "If you're still here when I'm done, I'll come back. Maybe I can get you some food since I know you don't eat when you get too busy."

You stand, meeting his gaze, a soft smile on your lips. Bucky knows you so well and you can't believe its taken you this long to see how he truly feels.

"Bucky?"

"Yeah?"

You lean in, pressing your lips to his in a gentle kiss. He's frozen in place and by the time he registers what's happening, you pull away, "I love you. Thank you for always taking care of me and being there for me."

"I, uh-" his face starts turning pink, "Ye-Yeah. Of course, sugar. I-shit." He hides his face in his hands and you can't help but laugh. You've turned The White Wolf of Brooklyn into blubbering, blushing mess.

He drops his hands from his face and he's smiling wide, "You love me? Really?"

"I do. I've loved you for a long time. I-I always hoped you felt the same. I thought you did with the flirting and how you were always there for me. But I'd see you do the same with others so I figured-"

He shakes his head, "No, sugar. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was so confusing. I-shit, Y/N, everything I do and say is because I love you. I love you so fucking much. I'd burn the world for you," he steps closer, placing his hands on your hips, nose grazing yours.

"For a big scary mobster, you're quite the softie, aren't you?"

"Don't let the guys know. It'd ruin my reputation," he murmurs, leaning in for another kiss.

"It's fine. We already know," Steve says as he stands there with his arms across his chest and a smirk on his face.

Bucky frowns, "Way to ruin the mood, Rogers."

Steve shrugs, "Sorry, but we have some important stuff to attend to."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Bucky steps away with a pout, "Sugar-"

You pull him back in for a kiss and he's quick to kiss you back this time. You then break the kiss with a grin, "Go take care of business, boss."

Bucky is a little dizzy and has a goofy grin on his face, "You got it, boss." He pecks your lips one last time and then steps away, "Got another reason to call you sugar now."

"Yeah?"

He nods, "'Cause your lips taste so sweet," he says with a wink and follows Steve out of the cafe.

You're not sure how you can get back to work after that kiss and confession. But you'll have to do your best!

[yamujiburo]

Here's an arc I thought about doing but won't do because, it'd be a bit too sad and also it's too similar to the Turing Point Arc I already did and also it would be long. But I'll write it here for you angst enjoyers. This ended up being longer than I thought.

Despite getting the "okay" from Ash to date Jessie, Delia still worries that she's not doing the right thing or being a bad mom. Up until now she'd convinced herself that she had the right to be selfish for once after knowing only sacrifice and putting herself last.

Jessie and Ash, while not as antagonistic towards each other, still go at it. A Pikachu zap here, an angry "twerp" being uttered there. The guilt settles in for Delia and figures that it's best to just cut things off before things potentially get worse or before she gets too attached to Jessie. Her son comes first after all. That's what she signed up for when becoming a parent.

She sits Jessie down, eyes watery (it's the first time Jessie's ever seen Delia come close to crying). Delia says she thinks they should end things. Jessie is stunned but accepts it quickly. She sucks it up in the moment, puts a resigned smile on her face and tells Delia she'll leave immediately and not to worry about her. Delia's also broken up about it but promised herself she'd never cry over a goodbye and she wasn't gonna start now.

Jessie goes to James and Meowth's place greeted similarly to this, lightly teasing her about blowing it with Delia, and she breaks down sobbing. Oops it's real this time. James and Meowth do everything in their power to make her feel better. They let her know that things like this happen and they're ready to go wherever she wants to go (knowing that it'd likely be to painful for her to stay in Pallet). As much as she wants to leave, she doesn't want James and Meowth to lose the good thing they have going. She's not in the right headspace to make any decisions so she'll get to it later.

Ash returns home after doing a little training at Oak's lab. He notices Jessie's not around and asks his mom where she is. Delia is about to tell him but can't quite bring herself to say the truth out loud yet. She simply says "I don't know". Ash looks disappointed. "Aw man, I wanted to see if she wanted to battle. She makes a good battle buddy for all of my newer, baby Pokémon." Delia perks up that this. As quickly as he came, he leaves again to go train his Pokémon.

Later, Delia approaches Ash, asking him if he really meant that what he said about Jessie being a good battle partner. He gives her an enthusiastic "yeah!" and tells her that it's been nice having another battle ready trainer around since there's not many in Pallet. Delia starts to pry a little more. "I thought you and Jessie didn't get along?" Ash is confused, and tells Delia they get along great! "Jessie doesn't steal anymore! And she's getting better at battling which is cool." Delia brings up that she's head them argue before. "Oh... well I guess that's just how we are. I'd be weirded out if she was suddenly too nice to me all the time. Jessie's actually a lot like Misty. But taller!" This gives Delia a lot to think about but what's done is done and it's no use pressing on. It's easier this way.

The next morning Delia's getting ready for work. She must not have noticed that she was acting weird but Ash picks up on it. "What's wrong mom?" Delia's shocked he noticed (he's not usually this perceptive). She tells him it's nothing and that she just slept bad. "Hm. But Jessie says that when you're upset you get really quiet and intense." Delia notices that she was pretty intensely mixing the pancake batter. "Jessie told you that?" Ash nods. "Hey speaking of, where is Jessie? Haven't seen her since yesterday." Delia stops mixing and tells Ash that she and Jessie aren't together anymore. Ash is confused and upset at the idea of Jessie doing something that would hurt his mom enough for them to break up. Delia lets him know that Jessie didn't do anything like that and that them breaking up was just for the best. But Ash questions this, pointing out that he's never seen Delia as happy as she was when Jessie was there and also how Delia looks really sad now. Delia can't argue with that but then tells him that it's complicated. Ash, to Delia's surprise, looks a bit disappointed. He's bummed he wasn't able to say goodbye first and asks if she thinks Jessie would still be willing to come by and train with him sometimes. Delia asks him once more if he was really okay with her and Jessie dating. "Yeah I thought I said that already? Jessie's pretty cool when she's not being evil. And she really likes Pokémon which is a plus!" Such simple criteria. Delia's now worried that she might've made a mistake. She finishes making breakfast and heads to work.

At the restaurant she's met by James. She can feel an awkwardness hanging in the air. She knows that James knows. Before she can say anything James tells Delia thank you for employing him and helping him, Meowth and Jessie get back on their feet but that he's going to quit working at the restaurant and that they'll likely be leaving Pallet soon. Delia's heart sinks. There's now a ticking clock and she has to decide what she wants to do SOON. She asks James where Jessie is. James hesitantly tells her that she's at his and Meowth's place. Delia pleads with James to work the restaurant for one more day at least and to cover this shift. She has to go talk to Jessie. He agrees, hoping that this is a good thing.

Delia runs to James and Meowth's place. She knocks on the door upon arrival and waits. It takes a moment but she hears the door unlock. Jessie opens the door, disheveled, tears and snot all over her face, draped in a blanket. Jessie notices it's Delia and, frightened, slams the door. Delia's stunned for a moment and goes to knock on the door again but before she can the door opens. This time Jessie's tears are gone, her hair's fixed and she ditched the blanket. "Oh hey, Delia! What brings you here?" Delia can't help but be charmed. But this is serious. She shakes it off and asks if they could talk. Jessie invites her in. They get to the couch and Jessie starts frantically cleaning up all the crumpled tissues and dirty dishes off the ground. "Heh I caught a cold yesterday. A one day cold. I'm fine now." Delia doesn't call out the obvious lie and gets straight to the point.

She tells Jessie that she's worried she made a mistake. She made a panicked decision that she was hoping would protect Ash and her future self. But now realizes that she was afraid of the idea that she'd made a selfish decision by dating her. It was a selfish decision but that didn't mean it was a bad one. She was the happiest she'd been, Jessie and Ash were learning to get along and were getting along much better than she'd though. She acknowledges that Jessie has been there for Ash in a way that she can't quite be and is also grateful to her for managing to keep Ash home a little longer. She asks if Jessie would be willing to take her back (despite the distress she caused). Jessie starts sobbing with happy tears. She tearfully says she'll try even harder to get along with Ash and be a better person. Delia reassures her that she's doing just fine.

They kiss passionately but then realize it's weird that they're making out in James in Meowth's place and say they'll continue later. Delia tells Jessie to head back home and that Ash is looking forward to battling with her (and she also needs to let James and Meowth not to quit their jobs).

The end~

[majinbangus]

continuing my big simon x single!mom reader bullshit :P

-> more here

There's a frantic knock on his door.

It's insistent. A peculiar sound to hear near the end of his day during the late evening. Visitors are a rare occurrence, and if he does get them, he usually knows they're coming.

The knocks persistent. Audacious. Bold. Demanding. He approaches the door, not overly concerned with who it may be, but with a healthy dose of caution. Knowing his history, he brings along a small glock.

When he unlocks the door and cracks it open- this complex doesn't have peepholes- his gaze drops down, and he moves to tuck his gun into the back of his jeans, widening the door.

It's your boy, his little name twin. Alone. Scared. On the verge of tears. Like another little boy he knew in another life. A boy he once was. He drops down to one knee, placing a hand on the lad's shoulder.

Little Simon is trembling. He scans the hallway behind his young visitor. Empty. Void of life except for this child in front of him, clearly seeking his help. A tiny storm about to break in this ostensibly lifeless building. The neighbors wouldn't even know it. Then, he cracks. A warning before the lightning strikes.

"S-Simon-"

He cuts the lad off before he can get anything else out. Before he breaks. "Where's your mum? What happened?"

The tears fall and your boy throws himself into his chest.

"Mama won't wake up!"

-

He carried you from the couch to your bed.

You're sick. Really sick, but Simon doesn't think you need to go to the hospital. Not yet. He places a hand on your forehead. Still hot.

He checked your temperature once he got you settled. Thirty-eight degrees. Simon's no medic, but he'll continue to monitor your status throughout the night. Make sure you don't overheat. Take you to the hospital if you need it. He can do that much. A simple mission compared to anything else he's faced.

There's a creak from your bedroom door, and he drops his hand from your forehead, looking up at the little prowler.

"Simon," he greets and the lad curls in on himself, hesitating before edging closer in the room, walking up to where Simon stands. He stares at you with eyes too haunted a kid his age should have.

"Will Mama be okay?"

His voice is hoarse and his eyes are red. A puffy mess from crying earlier. Simon doesn't shame the boy for it, and he won't lie about your condition, but...

"I'll make sure she is," he promises.

Your boy turns to him then, eyes suddenly sharp. Protective. A cub ready to fight for his incapacitated mother. The resemblance almost makes Simon pause. Makes him think back to when he wore a similar look a few times when he grew up, though your Simon wears the look a lot younger than he ever did. Is braver than he ever was as a child. His own words echo in his ears.

A good lad.

Your boy holds out his little finger, and Simon stares. His little name twin glares at Simon with something akin to judgement. A test. "Pinky promise?"

It's no question what he does next.

Simon reaches out and curls his own pinky around the lad's. "Pinky promise."

A smile breaks out on your boy's face.

Test passed.

-

It's 03:03 when you wake up.

Simon is ready and attentive. He's been taking a nap beside your bedside every other hour in a chair he brought from your kitchen table. Not the worst place he's ever slept and not the worst sleep he's ever had. He's certainly thankful you have cushions for your chairs.

You're groggy. Shivering a little, but Simon knows your fever has gone down slightly since he got here. He's been changing out the cool, wet towel on your forehead every time he woke up, keeping you elevated, making sure you can breathe.

You panic a little when you see him, scrambling to create some space between each other,

"What the-?!"

He turns on the lamp on your nightstand, holding up his hands in a non-threatening manner. "It's just me. Simon came and got me when you wouldn't wake up. I've been keeping an eye on you."

You stare at him, the aghast in your eyes still there, but slowly calming down as you get your bearings. "You're- you're-"

"Big Simon." He cracks a wry smirk, lowering his hands again, giving a lazy bow of his head. "At your service."

He doesn't hold back his snort when you squeak, adorably indignant for someone so sick. "You're not gonna let me live that down, are you?"

"'Course not," Simon drawls and it goes silent for a few seconds as you take him in, studying him with eyes that look just like your boy's did when he made him pinky promise, except your eyes hold a certain level of caution the lad should learn. You shift in your nest of blankets, adjusting them around your body when a particularly harsh shiver runs through you.

"Simon got you, you said?" You finally speak up, voice scratchy. Tired but guarded.

He nods. "Told me he tried to wake you up after that movie you were watching together."

"And you brought me here?"

"Made sure you didn't choke on your snot, too."

The offended squawk that escapes you is hilarious, as if you truly had a high opinion about your runny mucus. Maybe it's because you see Simon as a brute who has no room to talk. Maybe it's because you're embarrassed at being seen at a weak state.

You have no rebuttal, choosing to huff instead, looking down at the blankets covering you, sobering in contemplation. Simon waits for you to speak again.

"You really did that?" You eventually ask, voice quiet, not looking him in the eyes.

"Yes," he answers bluntly, and you look up, trying to get a read on him, but Simon gives you nothing, staring back with a blank look.

You break first, breathing out a slow, wheezy sigh. A yawn escapes you next as you sag onto your elevated pillows. "... Thank you, Simon. Not just for tonight, but also for last time. For being kind to him. Simon wouldn't shut up about you the whole time we were shopping."

He snorts. "Made quite the impression on him, did I?"

You give your own small noise of amusement. "Think it's because you share the same name."

"Like I told your lad before: it's a fine name, innit?"

You bark out a laugh, a few coughs slipping in here and there, but you nod your head. "It is. I wouldn't have named my son that if it wasn't."

A smug smirk stretches across his face, and you grin back, falling into a comfortable silence, staring at each other. The peace and quiet of the night settling in the air. A special kind of tranquility being shared between two people who are still practically strangers. It goes undisturbed until you yawn again, and Simon shifts, getting up to refresh your towel and grab water and the medicine your boy showed him where to find earlier.

He comes back and hands them to you. When you're finished taking the medicine, he offers, "I can leave right now if that would make you more comfortable, although I'd recommend you call someone to look after you if you don't think you need the hospital."

You take a slow slip of your water, keeping your face carefully blank. Thinking. Contemplating. Then, you place the water on your nightstand and shake your head. "No... um, stay. Please. I... you..."

You can't finish your sentence, breaking off with a tired exhale, but you don't need to. He understands.

"Sleep." Simon turns off the lamp and leans back into his chair, getting comfortable once more. "I'll watch over you tonight."

You say something back.

He almost misses it in the darkness of the room, but the words linger, permeating the air. He doesn't think the words are entirely for him. They almost sound like a secret. Like it was meant for someone else. Shared with him only because he happened to overhear.

It doesn't offend him. He wasn't the only one who helped you tonight.

Thank you, Simon.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Guardian Angel

CW: Stalking, people breaking into your apartment (Arkham Knight and others), people brushing off an obvious issue, and violence. Be warned, there are no angels in Gotham. ~2.2k words

You have a stalker. Probably. Maybe. If you do, they're so good at covering their tracks that you're starting to believe you're just paranoid.

But it's the odd events, the trinkets moved slightly out of place, that have you checking over your shoulder.

There wasn't even any evidence at first. Your day had been completely normal. All you were doing was cooking dinner, when your nerves went on end, and goosebumps rose on your skin. The feeling of being watched, of being prey set in.

It didn't make sense, didn't have a reason, but you closed your curtains and triple checked your locks nonetheless. (The bat you keep by your bed slept next to you that night)

You would have forgotten about the incident entirely if, a week later, the same feeling crept up your spine while you walked home. You'd never walked faster to get to your building. You'd practically sprinted up the stairs to your apartment, and slammed to the door behind you.

Even within your home, it took almost the whole night for the feeling to fade.

Two times could be a coincidence, but then things started getting stranger.

You could have sworn you left your keys on the counter the night before, so why, why did you find them on the coffee table?

It makes you uneasy, almost sick, but you're already late to work. So you do the only thing you can, you brush it off.

Until it happens. A thing you can't brush off.

You knew you had used the last of the sugar yesterday. Knew it because you had made a mental note to pick some up the next time you went to the store.

But there's sugar. It's not a lot. Just enough to get you through a few days. Enough to make you think you might have just missed the last of it.

You know you're right. You know you were out of sugar and even if your coworkers laugh and tell you to get more sleep, that having an angel that refills your sugar can't be that bad, you know someone's been in your apartment.

You set traps, set cameras, get your locks changed, take note of everything. You don't get any evidence.

But you notice that your window doesn't squeak anymore when you open it. Your shower doesn't rattle when you go to start it. Your oven actually heats up to the temperature you set it to.

It's been like this for months now. And you're starting to believe that Gotham does have its own set of angels that go around trying to make your life a little easier.

That is until, you meet him.

You'd been unlucky. Gotten grabbed and dragged into the alley by your apartment by some haggard looking man waving a gun. It wasn't the first time you'd been mugged in Gotham, and you doubted it would be the last.

You had reluctantly pulled your wallet and phone out of your pockets and handed them off when an armored-clad person dropped between the gun and you.

At first, it was a relief. Being saved by Batman or Nightwing is practically a rite of passage in Gotham.

But then you watched the would-be mugger hit the ground with a sickening crunch of his arm. Then you watched your savior turn to face you, and you knew it was him.

You didn't have an explanation, you didn't have proof. You'd never even seen a glimpse of the helmet that hid his face before. But you knew. He's the one that's been following you. He's the one that's been in your home.

No amount of good deeds can overshadow how violating it feels, to know he's been watching you, observing you, doing things for you. You instinctively step back.

He only matches the distance you tried to create with a step of his own.

"Who are you? What do you want," You snap, sounding braver than you feel.

He doesn't answer at first, just tilts his head like he's studying you. You think it might be because he's never seen you think close before.

"I saved you," he says instead, completely avoiding your question. You wonder if he's expecting to be treated like a hero, if he's looking for your praise. It makes your stomach churn.

"You've been following me. You're the one who's been in my apartment," You protest, eyes darting.

You half expect someone to come help you. With the way he's dressed, with how he's carrying himself, he has to be some kind of new villian you missed on the news.

He straightens out at your accusation, "Have I?"

You almost falter, almost do chalk it up to paranoia, but you just knew. Every fiber of your being knows, "Yes," You breathe out instead, "You have."

He nods slowly, then turns his back to you. A part of you wants to run, to try and escape and scream and get as far away from the man who feels like he could make you disappear without a trace.

He bends down and scoops up your phone and wallet before turning back to you. You freeze when he walks closer, each step steady and measured, then extends your belongings to you. Your hand shakes when you snatch at them.

You half expect him to yank them away, to make you beg, but he doesn't. He only keeps his grip tight on them, forcing you to be connected while you tug helpless at your things.

He watches you with his head slightly cocked before speaking again, "And if I have?"

He's easy, robotic cadence makes your blood grow cold, "Then you should stop," You retort, voice as cold as your veins.

"And if I won't," he prompts, finally releasing his hold on your things.

"I'll go to the police," You threaten, stuffing your wallet and phone back into your pockets.

"They can't help you," he warns. It makes you uneasy, that he makes no attempt to keep space between you. Even if his body language doesn't seem dangerous, everything else about him does.

"They can contact Batman," You try instead.

He laughs. It sounds humorless, empty, "He can't help you either."

You lose your nerve then, when he pats your cheek, and the guns holstered to his side seem to glint at you. "Get home," he tells you, and it makes you feel like you're some kind of pet.

And then he's gone, leaving you to an alley empty of anything, save for you and the mugger crumpled to the ground. All you can do is go home. Sleep doesn't come for you that night.

He's sloppy, now that he knows you know. You can tell it's on purpose.

Flashes of glowing blue outside your window, your things carelessly shifted about your apartment, the broken fan that hasn't worked since you moved in left on and spinning when you come home from work.

The only place he hasn't seemed to touch is your bedroom. You're not sure if it's because he's showing some slightest form of respect or if he's simply too good at hiding his tracks for you to notice.

Both options make you feel anxious, and you constantly comb over your things for proof of his presence.

You rack your brain over it, lose sleep over it, but you can't come up with one idea of who he is and why he's doing this.

There's nothing on him in the news, nothing on the internet, not even a whisper on the streets.

It feels like it's all one big, sick game to him when your favorite flowers start showing up at your door, when your gas tank fills itself.

When you tell your coworkers, in a near panic, about your rent being mysteriously paid, they tell you it's harmless, it's kind of sweet, really.

Shouldn't you just be grateful that someone's doing all that for you? Shouldn't you be thankful to have an angel looking out for you in this city?

But you know it's not harmless. You know he's capable of so much more. You know he's no angel.

The sound of the mugger's arm snapping still haunts you.

But you don't know what to do. You're stuck, on edge, and slowly coming to terms with having to live like this forever.

That is, until your bad luck seems to get even worse. You were in your pajamas, already half asleep as you're lounging on your couch, when your world gets thrown into chaos.

There's a click in your apartment door's lock, and you have the terrifying realization that tonight's the one night you'd forgotten to throw the deadbolt.

"I told ya I could get the keys to this floor. And barely anybody lives in this building afta what happen ta Murphy," the heavy Gotham accent fills your apartment and three men file into your living room like they own it.

They freeze when they see you, and you don't hesitate to sprint for your fire escape.

You've just managed to throw your window open when one of them grabs you around the middle and hauls you back, throwing you to the floor. Your head knocks against the ground, and everything spins.

You think you whimper as they start bickering. "You said no one would be here!"

"They weren't supposed ta be! It's all supposed ta be empty," one of them snaps back. It only makes your head pound and your vision swim.

You try to push yourself off the floor, but a boot lands at the center of your back and forces you back to the ground, "We have to kill them."

Murmurs of reluctance fill the room, and for a second, you think you'll get to live.

"They saw our faces," You hear the telltale sound of a gun clicking off its safety, "I'll do it."

You flinch with the shot sounds, but no more pain comes. The weight comes off your back, and a body collapses to the floor next to you.

You lift your head just enough to see a familiar blur of blue charge at the remaining two men.

It's not so much of a fight as it is an execution. It's a struggle to keep your eyes open, but anything you can't see you can hear.

There's no mercy in his actions, all wrath and fury, and you want to laugh because, in a way, he is your guardian angel. An avenging angel, pummeling the people who threatened you into something unrecognizable.

You're sure how long it lasts, how long you hear his fists connect to their flesh. But eventually, your apartment goes quiet. The sound of fabric shuffling reaches your ears, and calloused hands carefully help you move until you're sitting up.

Warm palms press to your face you realize he's taken his gloves off. You force your eyes to open, morbidly curious if he's removed his helmet, too. You're not sure why you're disappointed he hasn't.

"Saved me again," You mumble, words almost slurring.

"You're not safe here," he says softly, and his thumb runs over your cheek like he's trying to comfort you.

"They didn't think anyone lived here," You supply, but he apparently doesn't find that very reassuring.

"Let's get you out here," he says instead, and you blame it on your head injury for being impressed at how he doesn't show any signs of struggling when he picks you up and cradles you to his chest.

"Don't have anywhere to go," you say weakly, mentally trying to do the math on how much a safe hotel would cost at this time of night.

The moonlight seems to give his helmet an odd shine as you stare hazily at him. It almost looks like a halo.

"I have a place," he tells you, already carrying you out of your apartment window.

That snaps you out of your thoughts. It makes you frown, even in your dazed state, you know you don't want to go with him. That even with the trick of the light, he's no angel.

You start to squirm, "No– no, wait���"

"You need somewhere safe to recover," he says, and he doesn't seem to notice your fidgeting. Your heart leaps to your throat, at how securely he's holding you. With anyone else, it would have felt like a promise of protection.

"I don't trust you, you're not safe," You stumble out, head growing heavy with each step he takes from your apartment.

"No one's safe. But I don't have any plans on hurting you," he murmurs, seemingly more occupied with getting you to wherever he's planning to take you.

"But you could," You exhale out, and your voice sounds weak even to yourself.

That makes him pause, and his helmet tips as if he's focusing on you, "Maybe, but I wouldn't like it."

You want to argue more, demand he set you down. But your brain feels so foggy, and you're so tired and drained that your head just kind of finds itself on his shoulder.

"You can sleep," he says, and your eyes fall shut at how soft he sounds, "I'll keep watch."

You really do want to protest, but his shoulder is surprisingly comfortable. You can't help but think, as you drift off, that your angel might have fallen far lower than you can handle.

Jason's Side

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request headcanons for Dick, and Jason reacting to his gn crush asking him as they're so worried (as his hero persona) if he has seen him & described him while not knowing his secret identity?

Jason wanted nothing more than to tell you to go home, that it was not safe for you to be out this late at night and worried half out of your mind.

He just wanted you somewhere he’d knew you would be safe or could get to in quick timing should something ever happen, which was why when you tried calling his -red hood’s- name, he tried to ignore you but found himself unable to hear you cry out in desperation any longer and looked at you silently as you got closer to him.

‘I’m sorry to bother you but Have- have you seen my friend Jason?’ You ask with tears in your eyes.

‘There’s a lot of Jason’s in Gotham sweetheart, you’re going to be more specific.’ He replied and curses himself for how harsh he might’ve came across. He’ll punch himself later for being a dick to you later.

You dig a hand into your pocket and drew out a picture of yourself and him the night before -unknown to you- he was told about tonight’s patrol. Jason has no clue why you had that moment photographed, nothing special happened other then you two hanging out like you usually did, but knew he was one to talk when he had photos of you and him saved on his phone when he was feeling the need to see your face.

‘He’s six two, male, dark hair with a patch of white in the front, beautiful eyes that have specks of a mystical looking green, almost like their glowing half the time- I’m getting off track sorry. It’s- It’s just I’m worried about him as he promised to text me when he got home, but he never did and I’m scared that something has happened to him.’ You reply to the intimidating vigilante who looked as still as a statue.

‘I can’t loose him.’ You continue as tears streak down your face as your mind poisoned itself into thinking that Jason was dead or slowly dying in an alleyway or an abandoned warehouse and you couldn’t get to him and it killed your in ways you couldn’t describe. ‘Please, I know you’ve probably got better things then to search for a mission person but-‘ you pause to catch your breath when you felt as though your chest was being crushed slowly- ‘I don’t know who else to go to for help.’ You finished, biting down on your wobbling lower lip to prevent another sob from escaping as your eyes blur with tears.

Jason, feeling his heart break the second he saw tears, remembered where he was and who he was in that moment and brought a hand out towards you to place awkwardly on your shoulder, giving it a tight reassuring squeeze as he struggled to not admit to everything then and there if it meant soothing your heart. ‘I shall try my best to help you find your friend, until then you should get off the streets and head home, the nightlife of Gotham isn’t for everyone.’

‘What about you?’ You asked him, wiping away your tears with the sleeves of your shirt.

‘I do it so no one else has to.’ Jason or Red Hood replies softly and to wasn’t until now that you felt a sense of familiarity from the vigilante, but waves it off as some sort of projection you were putting on him in place of Jason. Why? Maybe you’d were in need of reassurance from your friend but couldn’t get that when you were unsure as to where he was without feeeing the worse.

So you look for the next best thing who happened to be a vigilante strapped to the nines with artillery, built like a brick shit house, wears a ruby red helmet and most likely six two, pushing six three with his boots.

‘That’s…’

‘Sad? Pathetic? I’ve heard it all-‘

‘Brave.’ You said interrupting him as Jason felt his heart pick up at your appraisal. Your kind words often took him off guard more often than not but it was something he loved about you more than anything. ‘Admirable even but you should look after yourself.’ You added, struggling to form a smile and Jason wanted nothing more then to hold you in his arms and tell you he was okay, but knew that he’d be putting you in more trouble than not if he did such a thing.

‘Can’t promise anything in this line of work I’m afraid,’ Jason said, ‘but I promise to try and find your friend, no matter what.’ He adds and finds himself smiling behind his mask when you gave him the first genuine smile of the night.

‘Thank you red hood, thank you.’ You cried as you lunged towards him and hugged him tightly, a sense of relief flooding your system almost immediately when you were in his arms. Jason on the other hand just wanted the night to end so that he could get out of his attire and sneak over to your apartment, just to show you that he was okay.

‘Don’t sweat it.’ He mutters under his breath, sometimes hating the life he lives if it meant worrying you half to death.

Dick:

‘Nightwing!’

Dick’s head moved fast at the sound of your voice, something he has just noticed himself doing recently, and felt the need to drop everything just to make sure you were okay.

‘That’s my name, hey are you okay? You know you shouldn’t be out here at night. It’s not safe.’ He tells you as he crosses his arms over his chest.

‘I know that but I was looking for my friend.’ You said to him.

‘And who’s your friend, maybe I can help.’ Dick replies, wanting to do anything he could in his power to keep you out of danger however he could. He didn’t want you to do something reckless and end up getting yourself hurt or even killed over it and he wasn’t anywhere near to prevent it from happening.

‘Dick. Dick Grayson.’ You told him and Dick felt his stomach drop. Him, you were looking for him? Why? ‘He hasn’t answered my calls or texts recently and I’ve gotten worried that something might’ve happened.’ You added as you showed him -nightwing- a picture of himself and Hayley from a couple of days ago. He didn’t know you had taken the photo but the way you did made it look like something taken by a professional photographer.

‘And so your best course of action was to take to the streets of a dangerous city filled with criminals and gangs alike in hopes of finding him?’ Dick asked rhetorically.

You shrugged, never having gave your plan any deeper thought since making it to realise how dangerous it might’ve been to wander Gotham at the dead of night, where crime was most likeliest to be committed. ‘That was the idea.’

Dick sighs. ‘No. What you’re going to do now is go home and leave to finding your devilishly handsome friend to me.’

‘But thi-‘ dick placed his hands on your shoulders and flashed you a reassuring smile. ‘I promise to give your friend a right good scolding for ignoring your texts and calls and to not worry you so often…just let me take it from here, okay?’

You look at nightwing and found yourself trusting this man more than you’d ever have trusted anyone else in your life and sighing. ‘Okay…I just didn’t want to bother you-‘

‘And you’re not bothering me, not at all.’ Dick reassured as he rubs your shoulders in a way that felt weirdly intimate between strangers whom have never met before. ‘I know Gotham like the back of my hand. So I’ll be able to narrow down the places where your friend might be and have him at your doorstep by morning. I promise.’ He finishes lowly as he stares you deeply in your eyes.

‘Okay. I shall leave it to you.’ You told him and dick felt relief in knowing that you were going to be safe and away from all harm. He hated that he was the reason you’d risk doing something such as searching Gotham for him at the dead of night, but he’d rather have you safe then do something risky.

[boypied]

LA CAGNA DEL GLADIATORE.

pairings: gladiator!lucius verus x male reader

summary: the male reader was a male harlot who was paid to sleep with the gladiators before they went out to fight in the arena. he gets sent to lucius verus' cell.

requested by: me

warnings: smut, oral (r!giving), anal sex, unprotected sex.

When you were younger, your family always took trips to the battle arena. You loved watching the gladiatores fight in the arena. You wanted nothing more than to meet them, little did you know that in twelve years' time you would be working in the arena as a male harlot. Each cycle of gladiatores that come into the arena as a fighter gets to have their way with you, but it must be kept very hush hush because the majority of them have wives.

You take a deep breath and make your way through the under belly of the arena, where all the gladiators are kept. You've been told that there is a new man in here that is in dyer need of servicing before he goes out to perform for all the audience. As you walk past the guards, you here, one of them whisper to the other "la cagna del gladiatore." Which translate to The Gladiatores Bitch.

You roll your eyes as you hear the guards' remark about you. You flash them a small smile as they hand you one single rusty key, which you're guessing is for the door that is holding the gladiatore that you're here to service. You slowly walk past all the locked metal doors that are holding many gladiatores inside.

You try to block the catcalls from previous gladiators that you have serviced in the past. You aren't here for them. You're here for the freshest meat in the arena. You slowly push the key into the lock and hear a click as you gently twist it. You slide the door open and slowly slide in, locking the door behind you, "Hello?" You mumble out nervously as you see a shadow come out of the darkness and into the flame light.

You smile softly at him, "I've been sent to...service you," you say while gently and seductively nibbling at your lip. Lucius stares at you for a moment until he finally opens her mouth to break the awkward silence. "What?" A confused look spreads across his face. "The emperors send their favourite...harlot to pleasure the gladiators so that they're relaxed before they have to fight in the arena." You say nervously as you scratch the back of your head.

Lucius studies you for a moment until he steps back slightly and sits down against the poorly made bed that has been placed in here. "Okay." He mutters out, he pulls down his gladiator skirt revealing his semi-hard monstrous sized cock. Your eyes widen as you get down on your knees coming closer to his cock, "woah" you mumble under your breath. Lucius catches onto your words. "What's wrong?" He says as another wave of confusion hits him.

"Your a whore right? You've seen a lot of cock." Lucius says to you as he looks down at you between his legs, "Yeah, yeah..I've just never seen one that big before." You say with an excited smile on your face, Lucius chuckles nervously hearing you say those words "I hope that it can be everything you hope." You watch as he leans his head back slightly and closes his eyes to really enjoy what's about to happen.

You gently take his thick tip into your mouth as your tongue slowly begins to swirl around it, tasting each drop of pre-cum that leaks out of his large member. Lucius, let's out sultry groans of pleasure as he's clearly been pent up in this cell in desperate need of an orgasmic release. You slowly lean down more, taking him inch by inch until you reach the base. You practically snuggle your nose against his bushy pubes breathing in his manly warrior scent.

Your tongue slides down the back of his cock and you feel his body shudder, "o-oh fuck!" Lucius groans out feeling your warm mouth coat his entire cock with your saliva as you begin to slide your head up and down tasting him for his entirety. Your jaw begins to ache while your mouth is gaped open as you just about managed to fit the entirety of his cock inside your mouth.

Lucius can't handle it anymore, "Stop, stop, stop!" He groans out in agonising pleasure as you immediately throw your head away from his cock. "D-Did I do something wrong?" You say confused as you look at his pleasure filled face. He lets out a loud chuckle, "no it's was great...I just wanna fuck your ass" he says with an horny and hungry look in his eyes.

You notice a dark lust filled look behind his eyes that helps you immediately know that you're in for an incredible fuck. You chuckle slightly as he is in desperate need for an ass, you seductively strip off naked revealing your smooth body for him as you get down on your knees leaning down forward, ass up exposing your tight pink pucker to him. "Show me how a true gladiator fucks" I say in a sultry tone.

Lucius darts off the bed and gives your ass a spank as he watches it giggle "I've missed sex" he mumbles under his breath as he presses his slick wet tip against your pucker as he slowly pushes himself in, once he pushes past the tight muscle ring he slowly thrusts in inch by inch until his pubes are pressed right against your filled opening.

Lucius' hands grip on your hips as he slowly pulls out and roughly thrusts back in all the way to the base, you bite your lip to hold back from screaming in pleasure and Lucius throws his head back in orgasmic pleasure, your grip on his cock was enough to make him bust but he held back. Lucius begins to piston fuck into you until your mind was becoming numb and completely cock-dumb.

"L-Lucius!" You whimper out in an agonising amount of pleasure as each thrust from his large thick cock hits you right in the g-spot, "fuck yes!" He groans out and he starts letting out loud grunts as he pumps into you a couple more times until he shoots his load deep inside you. Your eyes widen in shock and pleasure as your cock spurts cum against the cold hard floor as you feel Lucius' seed fill you up.

Your eyes flutter back slightly as you feel Lucius pull out of your hole, longingly to feel his length deep inside you. You stand up, wobbling slightly as you feel his cum seep out of your hole and drip down your leg and you look at the puddle of your cum that's in the middle of the floor. You chuckle nervously as you put your elegant robe back on to cover yourself up, Lucius pulls his gladiator skirt and sits back down against the bed.

Lucius smiles at you softly, "I hope to see you again." Hearing his words causes a thick red blush to spread across your face, "I hope that I see you again...so don't die in the arena tomorrow" you say to him in a soft tone causing him to chuckle slightly. He waves you goodbye as you leave the cell, locking it behind you. You walk past all the large cell doors, thinking about Lucius and how out of all the men you've served and pleasured, he was the only one who made you cum.

taglist ~ @starboye @mailmango @ghostking4m @kingchaospostsstuff @crispysoup318 @inhumanshadows @its-ares @gayaristocrat @cronasluvr @irlsamcarpenter @lucerothings1 @gaefaeyae @dqrkhold @sluttyhusband

[illbegottenfaith]

the one where theo asks you out to a wedding

exes to lovers

In his defence, Theo landed on your doorstep only after he had exhausted all other options. He took in a deep breath, steeling his nerves, and knocked. After a minute or two, he heard the patter of hurried footsteps and the door swung open.

"Hey."

Your face looked a little less round, perhaps. Your hair was shorter than he remembered, but your eyes looked just as sweet and forgiving as they always did. Only now

"Hey."

No open hostility. Theo could work with that. He was starting to feel a little hot in his suit. He scratched the back of his neck. Your eyes narrowed at the action.

"What do you want?"

Theo coughed awkwardly.

"Why do you just assume I want something?"

The corner of your lip quirked up.

"I dated you for years, Theodore. I think I know when you want something."

He took a deep breath and stuck his hands into his pockets, glancing at the door as he struggled to meet your eye. He should have brought flowers or something. Merlin, what was so nerve-wracking about talking to you? He did it plenty enough, once upon a time.

"I...need a favour."

"I figured."

Theo wished you'd stop staring at him so plainly. Instead, you leaned against the doorframe, tilting your head up at him while you patiently waited for him to spit out whatever he had to say.

"Mattheo's getting married," he blurted out.

Instantly, your face softened. Theo felt a pang of guilt somewhere deep inside his gut. When the two of you were dating, you always had a soft spot for Mattheo, as did he for you. In fact, he seemed more heartbroken than Theo after the breakup. But the fact remained that he, like a lot of your mutual friends, knew Theo before you, and so his social circle remained somewhat intact while you faded into oblivion.

He hadn't thought twice about it at the time, but seeing your face light up made him realise that this must be the first you had heard about any of your old friends since graduation. He had never meant to tear you away from friends who were every bit yours as they were his.

Then again, he had never wanted to break up with you in the first place.

Your lips curved into a familiar smile that tugged at something inside his chest.

"That's...wow. I'm so happy for him. That's incredible."

"It is. I'm the best man."

"I should hope so. Congratulations."

"Thank you."

Another painful silence drew out between the two of you. Theo stared at his palm uncomfortably.

"I need a date," he forced out.

You looked unimpressed.

"And? None of your model girlfriends can make it?"

Theo had the decency to look a little embarrassed.

"I'm sick of - they're not my girlfriends."

"Right," you drawled, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Too famous to be tied down, are we?"

Theo pulled at the knot of his tie desperately. He didn't remember you being this frustrating.

"I don't want to take any of them."

You shrugged. "Then go solo."

"C'mon, Y/N. Everyone's bringing a plus one."

You leaned towards him with a sardonic smile.

"That's the wonderful thing about not being your girlfriend anymore. Not. My. Problem. Bye now."

Theo jammed his foot in as you unsuccessfully tried to close the door.

"I'll pay you."

You laughed incredulously. "You can't be serious."

It had been a long shot, but he was running out of ideas. He dragged a hand through his hair.

"What do you want?" What did you want? "More attention? More gifts? I'll pay for your dress. I'll buy you dinner."

"Careful, or I'll think this is an actual date."

"Please, Y/N," he started saying before his brain could catch up. "We used to be so good together."

Your eyes darkened. You bit the inside of your cheek.

"What happened?"

You folded your arms, your eyes gleaming in the dusk that had settled around the two of you. You shook your head almost helplessly.

"I don't know. You were...you were great. I loved you. You loved me. You started playing Quidditch. You got good." Your pressed your lips into a thin line. "Then you got mean."

Theo scoffed half-heartedly. "Look, I didn't -"

"You stopped listening to me, Teddy," you interrupted.

That shut him up. He didn't know what to say. You didn't sound upset or even angry. Just hollow and a little disappointed.

You took the invitation Theo had been loosely holding and scanned the details.

"What the hell," you muttered. "Sure. Why not?"

Theo blinked a few times. As hard as he had tried to persuade you, he hadn't expected you to actually agree.

"Really?"

He looked so earnest, you couldn't help yourself. You rolled your eyes almost affectionately.

"Keep your wallet away. I'll foot the bill for my dress."

"No - please, let m- "

There, in the dim twilight, with the salty evening air stinging your faces, you cut him off with a chaste kiss to his cheek.

"Night, Teddy," you murmured.

This time, he didn't try to stop you as you shut the door.