#this is what i mean when i say that i really do need to quit this class already

[aaksuitac]

[04:24 am] “what are we?”

wc: 2.3k

a/n: [fluff viktor brainrot thanks to @dilemmars. t dije q me vengaría baby, así q zas, un payback por tus podcasts jdjfjjsd. hope u like cause its ur fault]

he’s humming something you don’t quite understand, a distant tune that sounds familiar —probably you’ve heard him sing it before—, and even if you don’t recognize the melody aside from that, you can’t help but appreciate it.

his hands fidget with whatever he can reach as he sighs once more, as if he was stealing breaths from the world, heavy, almost as lidded as his eyelids. his hair falls on his eyes and in between his slender fingers while he curls the untamed strands, and you fall into an endless pit of staring at him as he scribbles, grunts, sighs, and finally pinches the bridge of his nose.

“statistically speaking, i’m starting to feel like the chances of me getting this right are adversatively proportional to the chances of you accidentally swallowing a fly.”

and you just blink, once, then twice.

he stares at you, gives you a pointed look. he can’t really say if you understood that you were just staring at him with your mouth parted, but you squint at him, snickering.

“what,” his low voice fails to ask, unbothered, knowing that you’ll answer regardless.

and you do, answering. “you haven’t even uttered a word in a while. i was just surprised that you could still talk, is all,” you grin cheekily, playing with a screw on the table as you turn left and right on the chair you’re sitting on.

viktor looks at you, and he can’t help but crack a smile. point for you.

“what you laughing for, mhh, mister science?”

“isn’t it enough to bother me from the moment i get inside the lab in the morning that you need to do it at night too?” he pretends seriousness, side-eyeing you teasingly.

“fair enough. i will consider your offer, man of fleeting memory, and take it upon myself to bother you longer.”

his mean stare wouldn’t even make a kitten mewl, but you take you hand to your heart, pretending to be wounded.

“don’t look at me like that! you’ll hurt my feewings,” you pouted, much to his amusement.

“fleeting memory?” he scoffs, accent rolling off his tongue. “when’s the last time you lost a hairtie, mmh?” he mocks.

“unfair!” you can’t help but giggle as you pretend to hide your hair from his view. point for him. “besides. i take better care of my hair than you do of yours.” you pouted smuggly. “mine looks prettier.”

“what?” he finally asks, letting out a chuckle this time as his eyes land on you for the first time in the good part of an hour.

you play with your hair to style it, and funnily pose, hands on your cheeks as you lay your elbows on the table.

“what, don’t I look pretty?” you smiled, letting out a cheeky giggle.

yes. he doesn’t say it, but his eyes haven’t dodged back to his papers just yet. it’s another point for you. so very pretty.

he doesn’t dare. he knows it. his mind, or at least the small portion of his mind that still ties him with the occasional reminder that he’s human, looks at you and wants you in a way that he’s never wanted before.

so viktor resolves in looking at you. maybe only for a moment, maybe only on those fragments of time when he’s tired enough that he looks at the stars and at the moon, yearning to reach them, only to think he’ll miss the moonlight, finally blinking to the realization that he had been staring into your eyes for too long.

his eyes are dull as he stares at you, and your expression of worry at the fact makes his heart skip a beat. “viktor?” you mumble, softly, sleepily, warily. he can’t stop staring at you, and while he supposes success and defeat can look the same in a mirror —therefore, he doesn’t really blame your confusion—, he finds no words to explain which one he’s feeling as you move your chair towards him by a push against the floor, solely accompanied by the sound of the little wheels rolling to him.

he grabs his walking stick and turns it around, pretending to poke at your chair, as if to teasingly shove it away. if you realize that he settles the walking stick just in the correct place so that your stool can’t move back, he doesn’t know. viktor just stares at the floor, to pretend that maybe the way your eyes turn tender when his reflection shines on them has nothing to do with what you’re about to say.

tsk, tsk. clueless viktor.

he’s expecting it, yes, but even with that on mind, he can’t phathom how your course of action chooses laughing as you fidget with the loose button on his vest, the second one from the top down. viktor purposely forces himself to stable his breathing, worry seeping into him, thinking that maybe you could feel his heartbeat grow faster beneath the layers of clothing.

and he feels like the remnants of a cheap ring that stain a finger blue, when comparing himself as he stands —sits— close and next to you. maybe its because you usually wear rings, and he can feel the ghost of them as your hand trails up and absentmindedly fixes his collar.

he can almost see it. your mind working, the pieces falling into place, the—

“either my eyes are deceiving me or yours have been on my lips for a rather long time.”

and he can just. blink. as if that could break how mesmerized he feels, how his heart swells up and covers his throat, how inexplicably he feels when you’re with him, near and alone. the need to know more. the need to use every trinket and screw to map out your body for him to explore, and to map out the wonders of your mind for the world to admire and maybe then find out the reason of his inability to look away.

he was so focused before. used to be.

he is. now, at you. of you. on you.

you.

another point for you. he isn’t keeping count, but something tells him he’s losing.

and as his gaze falls back to your lips in between a battle against your eyes, lost in which to stare and sink into their devotion, he hesitates again.

he thinks its funny. so funny, viktor holds back the dry chuckle that threatens to go past his lips. how to cherish you in a way that matters. how to love, the scientist wonders. is there a way that would allow him to unveil and unravel himself to you? could there be some kind of language, able to express the depth of his insides, that you, too, could understand?

what is love, anyways? is he in love with you because his coffee tastes better when it matches the dark of your pupils? because when he takes the mug from your hand and his fingers brush against yours, it seems warmer? because he notices how the dark shade in your eyes seems to mix with that of your irises, and the way the black eats the colour when you stare at him? because he claims to hate company while he studies alone, but one chair remains empty as he works, waiting for who it was meant for? because when he fails and surrenders himself to the fall, throws his walking stick against the wall, he yearns for your embrace and how your hair smells in the evenings?

is that love? and if it is, could you understand it?

if it is love, and he could say it, would such a short word convey its meaning, or was he speculating just a couple of paragraphs ago? was he assuming the meaning of what love entails?

even so. if he said it, would you repeat it? would you claim you love him because he loves you, claim to love him too? would you instead claim to love him despite everything, even the uncertainty of love itself?

…does he accept it himself?

he’s overwhelmed by the sheer amount of voices in his head. there’s too much chatter. too many questions he can’t answer, too many commas, too many question marks. too much, too much, too many.

so he silences them. makes the voices dim to a deep silence. and when his lips find themselves suddenly against yours, he finds out the true, effervescent meaning of quietness.

his hand fails to pull you closer because of the damn walking stick that gets in the way. or maybe its the chairs you’re both on that clash against each other. maybe its matter itself. for a while, its the first time viktor doesn’t want to know.

in a bold statement, he couldn’t give a fuck.

he’s kissing you.

and it should be bad because of all the unanswered questions. he’s skipping procedure. he’s gone from the fuck around to finding out and he doesn’t know where he is at this point.

what he does know, is that your hand pulls him by his necktie, and he’s gone. science? yours only. the science that he’d study all of the nights he may have left. the science behind what makes you. the science behind how your hand craddles his face while stroking his cheekbones. the science behind how you’re the closest you’ve ever been to him and somehow still not close enough. the science behind the reason why when you pull away makes his heart beat so loudly, as if it had forgotten how to a second ago.

your forehead rests against his. he shouldn’t have done that. he just… did it. maybe that was bad. was it? could it be? he had been waiting for so long too. he never thought he would…

“viktor, what are we?”

and he’s dead. he knows what the question implies, but he doesn’t want to answer. he could follow you like a lost puppy through piltover and zaun and hell knows where else. if he wasn’t dead now he would die right there and now without a second thought, because the feeling that overcame him was that love was suddenly a sentence or two away.

he knows he doesn’t dare. it’s one of the only thing he knows, one of the things he’s sure of.

but somehow, he moves. he stands up, takes the walking stick, and attempts to walk out the feeling that bounces inside him.

the walking stick always makes a noise when he walks, one with dificulties to interpret in terms of onomatopeia. not quite a thud, not deep enough to reach that quality. not a clack, for it is not entirely made of metal. still, as if it was a mix of both, he keeps walking.

viktor is nervous. thud-clack. he’s not moving far from his chair, nor is he going somewhere else. thud-clack. he still keeps pacing. thud-clack. maybe the answer is somewhere in the room. thud-clack. maybe he can reply.

thud-clack, thud-clack, thud-clack.

only does he then realize that he hasn’t answered your question. and a non-answer statement might as well be a rejection.

no. no, no, no. fuck.

he’s sitting again, but you stand up. your hair follows, long. moving and brushing against the skin of your shoulders in a way that he can’t help but claim it to be endearing.

you’re walking. you don’t make any kind of extra sound when you walk. your heels reverberate against the floor like any other, yet also they mark the beat of his heart.

he can’t reach for you. you walk too fast.

you stop when you feel the walking stick on your side. the part made for him to lean on as he walks hooks you, and you stand, not facing him.

he doesn’t use the walking stick as he stands. no, he keeps it hooked to your core, scared that you might leave. you could, he wouldn’t blame you. but he can’t allow it.

he holds it in the air as he takes one step. another step. you’re turning, surprised to see him standing, and you gasp when he lets himself fall on you.

your touch surrounds him. yes. that’s the closeness he needed. he drops the walking stick, his hands slithering on your body, pressing you against him, for no reason at all yet because it is all needs.

“what can we be?” he whispers. he takes the science approach. the viktor approach.

he isn’t too clueless after all.

he raises enough to look at your darkened, sleepy eyes. he wants to drown in them.

“if i wanted to kiss you everytime you hand me coffee, wanted you to sit on the same chair as ne and hug me from behind as I work, wanted you.” he swallows dry. “then, what can we be?”

he doesn’t want to say the words, and its petty.

it’s the 31st when the clock strickes five am and your hands travel through his hair to kiss him again. to unbalance him enough that he falls back on his chair and you follow him, sitting on his lap.

and as he kisses you, his hands worshipping the skin he can touch, the warmth he can feel through layers of clothing, he feels like maybe there’s a life worth living, so he can’t ask.

he’s heard boys and girls when he was young talk about it. “he didn’t want to celebrate our month-versary,” a girl cried as he played with his little boat, watching from afar as she was comforted by her friend.

it’s the 31st. and he can’t really ask the question now, because if he says it, how could you celebrate each month?

he moves the chair and holds you in his arms as your back falls against the table before him. maybe he can kiss you until next month. until the clock strikes and it’s the 1st.

he smiles as he kisses you, feeling you pull his necktie off. he thinks it’s the best idea he’s had in a while. and a true scientist always tries out their hypothesis.

~k.k. (☆) have fun!

aaksuitac, november 2024 ©

[shiranuieditorial]

Japanese → English translation of an excerpt from an interview with MUCC lead vocalist Tatsurou (逹瑯):

A: Efforts to maintain relationships can feel somewhat negative, don’t you think? Essentially, it means that someone has to push themselves beyond their limits. I believe that in any relationship, there are moments when we must endure something for the sake of the other person; however, that endurance shouldn’t have to be an unbearable sacrifice. At most, it’s about saying, “I’ll hold back on this part of myself to support this aspect of you,” which is a more positive form of patience.

Q: I think it’s impossible to maintain a balance where everyone endures equally. But why do you think we manage to get so close to that ideal? It doesn’t seem like we’re diligently directing traffic, after all.

A: Indeed, it doesn’t appear that we’re directing traffic. Just… I don’t really understand it well myself, but surprisingly, even when I have to endure or feel stressed about something, I tend to forget it after a night’s sleep (laughs). It doesn’t completely vanish, but I find that I stop caring about it. My anger and frustration don’t last very long. So, I just think, “Well, whatever.” (laughs)

Q: The fact that you possess such a character is what makes you who you are, Tatsurou-san. I feel that this is one of the reasons for MUCC’s natural continuity.

A: I’m not entirely sure about myself; however, if I were the type who bottled things up and accumulated stress, I might have exploded at one of the other members at some point. If there had been even one member like that, things might have been different; but in reality, I see up close how everyone else is also struggling silently and doing their best without saying anything. For instance—Miya has an immense workload in terms of music, so, I imagine he must be going through a lot as well. Thus, even if there are moments when I think, “Wow!” I also think, “Well, it can’t be helped.” Because of this understanding, I don’t feel the need to complain.

Q: All four of you share a positive sense of “It can’t be helped” towards each other. Moreover, the parts where you play “MUCC’s Tatsurou” or “MUCC’s Miya” are quite minimal.

A: Yes. Also, for example, in the case of vocalists from other bands, they might have many invisible tasks to handle; however, in my case, I don’t often think “It’s unfair that I’m doing all the work while everyone else is slacking off.” Since I chose this position, I think it can’t be helped. Ultimately, despite everything, I believe we maintain a balance. When watching the rhythm section during individual practice before recording sessions, they seem to be under considerable pressure; they start recording much earlier than me and need to prepare quickly. Seeing everyone creating backing tracks in the studio looks incredibly demanding; plus, since our leader can be quite strict, they’re probably feeling overwhelmed (laughs). Of course, my own lyric writing can also become quite demanding later on; however, in that sense, everyone experiences similar levels of hardship. It feels like everything balances out in some way.

Image alt text for the original Japanese article:

係を保つための努力って、なんかネガティブじゃないですか。 それはつまり誰かが無理をするってこと��し。 お互い、人間関係のためになにかしらの我慢をする部分というのはあると思うけど、それは我慢しきれない我慢ではないというか。 せいぜいそれは「相手のこういうところを立ててあげるために、自分のここは我慢よう」みたいなポジティブな我慢じゃないかと思うから。

———全員が公平に我慢する、というバランスを保つことも不可能だと思うんです。 だけどそれにすごく近いことができているのはなぜだと思います？ 一生懸命に交通整理しているようにも見えないし。

たしかに交通整理はしてないですね。 ただ。 。 。 。 。 。 よくわかんないけど、俺ね、意外と、我慢したりとか、ストレスたまるようなことがあっても、ひと晚経つと忘れちゃうんですよ（笑）。 ホントにきれいに消えちゃうわけじゃないんだけど、どうでも良くなってしまう。 怒りとかモヤモヤとかが、そんなに持続しないんで。 だから、ま、いいやって（笑）。

———その性格の持ち主が達瑯さんである、ということ。 それがムックの自然な継続の一因でもあるような気がします。

自分ではよくわかんないけど。 ただ、俺が結構我慢しちゃってストレスをため込むようなタイプだったりしたら、それが爆発したときにメンバーの誰かにあたってたかもしれないとは思う。 俺にかぎらず、1人でもそういうメンバーがいたら違ってたかもしれない。 だけど実際には「こいつも大变なのに、なにも言わずにがんばってるしなあ」というのを間近で見てるから。 それこそミヤも音楽的な意味での仕事量がすごく多いから、大变だろうなと思うし。 だからなんか「うわっ！」う思うことがあったとしても「ま、しょうがねえか」う思うし。 そこで文句を言おうとも思わないから、別に。

———4人全員がお互いに対してポジティブな意味での「しようがない」という感情を持っている。 しかも「ムックの達瑯」とか「ムックのミヤ」というものを演じている部分がきわめて小さいというか。

うん。 あと、たとえばほかのバンドのボーカルの場合、目に見えない仕事が多いんじゃないかと思うんですよ。 だけど俺の場合「俺ばっか仕事で、みんなズルいよ」と思うこともそんなにないし。 このポジションを選んだ以上、しょうがないと思うし。 やっぱ、なんだかんだでバランスがとれてると思うんですよね。 リズム隊とかを見てても、レコーディング前の個人練習とかで詰めてるのを見てると、やっぱり大变そうだなあとか思うし。やっぱ俺なんかよりもみんな、ずっと早くからレコーディングがはじまるわけで、準備にも早く取りかからないといけないわけで。みんながスタジオでオケ作ったりしてるのを見てると、いかにも大变そうだし、しかもリーダーがス��ルタだから、ヒーヒー言ってる部分もあるし（笑）。ま、俺も俺で作詞とかがあとから大变だったりはするんだけど、そういう意味では、ある種みんな同程度にしんどいというか、帳尻が合ってるというか。そういうところも確実にあるんで。

[iamgonnagetyouback]

james potter x cat animagus!reader who he picks up thinking as stray and lets in on a secret

James Potter was the kind of guy who could never ignore a creature in need, so when he found a little brown cat loitering around the Quidditch pitch during practice, his heart melted instantly. "Poor thing," he murmured, crouching down. “You’re probably cold and starving. Don’t worry, mate—I’ve got you.”

Before you could react, you were being scooped up in his strong arms. Not that you minded, really.

James carried you straight to the Gryffindor boys’ dormitory, setting you on his bed with all the care of a proud parent. “There you go. Home sweet home.”

You blinked at him, tail twitching in mild amusement.

“Right,” he said, flopping onto the bed beside you. “Let’s establish some ground rules. No scratching the furniture. No biting Sirius—actually, scratch that, feel free to bite Sirius. And no stealing my socks, got it?”

You gave him the look—your signature, unimpressed really, James? glare.

James narrowed his eyes at you. “Weird. You’ve got this very… familiar judgmental vibe. Kind of like—nah. I’m imagining it.” He grinned. “Anyway, since you’re new here and seem chill, I’ll let you in on a secret.”

You tilted your head, heart thumping nervously.

James puffed out his chest dramatically. “I’ve got a girlfriend.”

You twitched your ears.

“She’s amazing. Funny, smart, gorgeous.” He laughed, leaning back on the bed. “But Merlin, she’s terrifying sometimes. But, you know, in a hot way. Like, I kind of like it when she yells at me.”

You swished your tail sharply, earning a startled laugh from him.

“Oi, don’t judge! You don’t know what it’s like to be loved by a goddess,” he said, wagging a finger at you. “She’s got this look—like, when I say something dumb, she just stares at me. Kinda like the look you’re giving me right now.”

Your tail lashed harder, but James carried on, oblivious as he scratched the back of his neck. “Anyway, she’s amazing. Except sometimes, she’s so bossy. Always telling me to do my homework, stop sneaking chocolate into the library, quit messing up my hair—”

You hissed softly, and James blinked. “What? I’m just saying it’s endearing. Don’t get your whiskers in a twist.” He leaned in, narrowing his eyes.

“And the sass! She’s so sassy. Honestly, sometimes I think she loves making me squirm.” He sighed dreamily, resting his chin in his hands. “What a woman. You’d like her. Or maybe not. She’d probably call you ‘scruffy’ or something. Wait—you’re scruffy and judgy. Are you sure you’re not her Animagus form?”

You froze.

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “She’d have told me. I mean, I told her I’m a stag! She’s even touched my antlers. I think she’s got a thing for them, but she denies it. So, yeah, she’d totally tell me if she were a cat.”

You stared at him, doing your best to suppress a laugh.

The next day, the game was up.

“Wouldn’t want to be too bossy, now would I?” you said sharply, glaring at James in the common room.

James stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide. “What?”

You raised an eyebrow.

“No,” he said, shaking his head like a wet dog. “No way. How do you—what—how do you know that?”

You just smirked.

James clutched his hair like a man on the verge of a breakdown. “Wait. Wait. Okay, no. There’s an explanation. Did Sirius tell you? No—he doesn’t even listen when I talk. Did Remus overhear and snitch? No, he’d lecture me about boundaries. Did… did you talk to the cat?!”

You snorted. “What?”

“Do you speak cat language?!” James demanded, looking genuinely alarmed. “Oh, Merlin, are you part Kneazle?!”

“James—”

“Or—or did you use Legilimency on the cat?!” He gasped, his hands flying to his hair. “Were you watching me somehow? Are you spying on me?!”

“James—”

“Oh my god.” His voice dropped to a whisper, eyes wild with panic. “You’re in cahoots with the cat, aren’t you?”

“James!”

He flailed dramatically. “Are you secret friends with a magical talking cat?”

“James Fleamont Potter!”

“What?!”

You crossed your arms, smirking. “I was the cat, you idiot.”

James blinked. Once. Twice. Then he pointed an accusatory finger at you. “You WHAT?!”

“I’m an Animagus,” you said, shrugging.

James stared at you like you’d just told him you were the heir of Merlin. “No. No way. You’re lying. You’re joking. Tell me you’re joking.”

You shrugged again. “Sorry, love. Not joking.”

He gasped, clutching his chest. “I LET YOU SLEEP IN MY BED.”

“Yeah, thanks for that.”

“I SCRATCHED BEHIND YOUR EARS.”

“Very kind of you.”

“I TOLD YOU MY SECRETS!”

“Well, you did think I was a stray.”

James stumbled backward, clutching at the table for support. “I—I let you see me in my pajamas! I let you cuddle with me! I—oh my god, I called you soft and—wait—” He glared at you, realization dawning. “You hissed at me when I called you bossy!”

You grinned. “Sure did.”

“And you glared at me! That was your glare! Oh, bloody hell, I should’ve known.” He groaned, collapsing onto the bed. “This is so embarrassing. Why didn’t you tell me?!”

You plopped down beside him, smirking. “I wanted to see how long it’d take you to figure it out.”

James buried his face in his hands. “I let you TOUCH MY ANTLERS.”

“And they’re very nice antlers,” you teased, poking his side.

He peeked at you through his fingers, pouting. “This is betrayal, you know. Pure betrayal.”

“James.”

“Nope. Betrayal.”

“James.”

He groaned. “Fine. But you owe me so much cuddling to make up for this.”

“Deal,” you said, pulling him into a hug.

“Wait,” he mumbled into your shoulder. “You do think my antlers are cool, right?”

You kissed his cheek. “The coolest, love.”

“Thought so.”

[rebouks]

Previous // Next

Alex: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! [wheeeeeeze] Byrd: Woah, lady-.. I know karate! Wren: No, you don’t. Byrd: [whispers] She doesn’t need to know that. Wren: It’s Alex, dipshit. Byrd: Ohhh-.. wait, really? Wren: Sure looks like her.

Alex: Oh my god, I found you-.. and I followed your CAT! I missed you so much!! I hope you’re not mad at me-.. I’m so SO sorry for not writing! I thought I was being organised by printing some labels out to save time, y’know? But then I forgot them at home when we went to my uncles and dad said we’d only be gone for a month, so I figured it wasn’t a huge deal, but then we stayed for what felt like it’d be FOREVER and I couldn’t for the life of me remember your address which is ridiculous ‘cause I SHOULD’VE had it memorised by now and I felt so awful as the months passed. I tried to remember it a couple times but you never wrote back so I figured I obviously got it wrong-.. then I tried finding your house on a stupid online map but the internet was crappy at best and the Bay is WAY bigger than I thought it’d be and I’ve never really seen your house in full view from the street either so, like.. I barely knew what I was looking for, and what if that camera car didn’t even map your house, y’know?!

Ava: That was.. a lot. Alex: Sorry-.. you’re not mad, are you? [Robin shook his head and took a breath, but nothing came out] Wren: Oop. Byrd: Yeah, I think he broke. Ava: Ooh, do you know sign language? Alex: No-.. I totally should’ve learnt! I guess I didn’t know I’d be coming here though… Byrd: I can teach you! Well, some, I’m still learning, but Robin knows a bunch. Ava: He’s not mad, by the way. He was just worried. [Robin shot his younger siblings a look, fruitlessly warning them not to embarrass him] Byrd: I’m sure he’d say hi, if he could. Wren: I bet he’d say you look pretty too. Byrd: He’s been extra mopey without your letters-.. or maybe that’s just what puberty does. Ava: He has to wear deodorant now, otherwise he STINKS! Wren: You should stay for supper, dad’s baking something.. again. Alex: Ough.. I was supposed to be home ages ago, dad’ll kill me.. wait, what school do you go to?! Byrd: Bay C-… Wren: Not us-.. he goes to Copperdale. Alex: Ohh, yay! I promised dad I’d finally unpack tomorrow but the day after that is Monday, right? Wren: Well done. Alex: Okay-.. ahhhh! SEE YOU AT SCHOOL!!

…

[Robin deflated as soon as Alex liberated him from another bear hug and sped off, releasing a breath he’d kept tucked beneath his ribs for an uncomfortably lengthy amount of time] Robin: Ouuuuuuuuuuuuugh. Robin: Why-.. why am I like this? Wren: You’ll spew something out eventually. Oscar: Alright losers, pie’s-.. what’s up with him? Robin: I’m fucking BROKEN. Wren: I mean.. you’re a little fucked, but still good! Oscar: Quit it with the swearing-.. what happened? Wren: Alex showed up n’ he broke. Robin: I didn’t even get to say hi or ask why she’s here, or for how long-.. and you just had to be embarrassing! Oscar: What’d she say? Robin: She said Alex was pretty on my behalf and I’ve never said that and she’s a DICK! Oscar: That’s tame-.. for Wren. Robin: I hate you all right now. Wren: Not as much as you hate yourself. Oscar: Hey, too much! Robin, c’mon-… Robin: SHUT UP! Oscar: Right, you’re on dish duty. Wren: Seriously?! Oscar: You reap what you sow, honey.

[babyfoxflower]

I had an idea, Alastor having strange feelings around Angel Doe! reader, the reader would be an angel, sent from heaven later to help at the hotel, perhaps reader because she is an angel she is very innocent and does not see or understand why alastor acts strange around her

My Angel

Alastor x Fem! Angel Reader

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Mentions of Murder, Jealousy, Possessiveness, No Smut (just cuz the requester didn’t ask for it)

It had been three months since Heaven sent you to help at the Hazbin Hotel, and Alastor for one could not stand it. It wasn’t that he hated or even remotely disliked you. You were a perfectly pleasant girl. A sweet little doe.

You never bothered him with stupid questions. You respected his boundaries, laughed at his old timey puns, and always greeted him with one of the prettiest smiles he’s ever seen. In fact you smiled a lot, something he appreciated probably more than anyone.

You also had the prettiest eyes, the loviest hair, the sweetest face, big adorable fluffy ears, and whenever he saw your fluffy little tail—he wanted to gently tug on it just to hear you bleat.

You radiated beauty and grace, and were beacon of warmth and comfort. Everything about you was perfect. You were a creature of God, never touched by evil or impurity. There wasn’t a single mean bone in your body.

What he couldn’t stand was this strange feeling he felt around you. It was as if he had butterflies in his stomach and his dead heart would beat faster, even occasionally skipping a beat.

What was more annoying was that you seemed completely oblivious to the what you were doing to him. At first, he thought that this was some kind of effect that angels had on others. However when he asked the others about it, none of them felt the same way he did around you.

“Sounds like you’re in love,” Vaggie said.

“Ahahaha! That’s a good one, my dear!” He laughed.

“Hey, I wouldn’t believe it either. But what you’re describing is what it feels like to be in love.”

In love? Was he really in love with you?

Sure, he felt extremely jealous whenever anyone else was taking up your time. Sure, he felt that you should only be by his side. Sure, he murdered a few sinners who were staring at you when the two of you went out for walks together. Sure, there was a time when an especially lowly wretch had the gall to ask you, the most gorgeous lady to ever live, on a date and Alastor ripped the man in half with his bare hands when you were distracted. And sure, he had frequent dreams about you where he would press you up against a wall and…

“Hmm, perhaps what that angry little woman said was true…I’m in love.”

———————————————————————

“Y/n, my dear, may I speak with you?”

“Of course!” You flashed him that gorgeous smile.

Alastor led you away to a corner where you two could have privacy. 

“What is it, Al? You look nervous.”

“Y/n, I…You’re making this more difficult by batting your lovely doe eyes at me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you frowned.

“No, you don’t have to be sorry. Damn it! Why is this so hard to tell you!?” He exclaimed.

“I find it easier to just blurt out whatever you need to say,” you replied.

“You’re right. I’ll just say it! I love you.”

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, “Pardon?”

“I love you, Y/n. You’re the first thing I think of when I wake up and the last thing I think of before I go to sleep. You’re constantly on my mind, even in my dreams. I love you so much that I can’t breathe when you’re not by my side. When you walk away, I miss you even before you are out of sight. I love you.”

“You mean more than a friend, right?”

Alastor sighed, “Way more than a friend, my darling doe.”

Suddenly that smile that he loved so much returned to your face, “I love you too, my sweet stag! Everything you just said, I feel the exact same way,” you licked his cheek affectionately.

He blushed.

“Oh sorry! I forgot that you used to be human and that humans don’t tend to lick each other.”

“It’s quite alright, my love,” he licked your cheek in the same fashion, “I’m not a human anymore, my doe. I’m your stag.”

Taglist 🏷️: @2dmenforme @xghostnuggsx @alastorthirsty

[airyairyaucontraire]

This part (from the article linked above) is really weird and concerning because it suggests they haven't even worked out in practical terms how to implement the proposed law:

While it was only in June that Australia’s eSafety Commissioner said age bans were unlikely to happen on short notice, by September the government began testing technologies for the initiative. This testing involved a $6.5 million “age assurance” trial which Chisholm explained is distinct from “age verification”. While Chisholm noted age verification “requires verification of identity” and might involve the use of identity documents, age assurance is a “broader term” which “uses other technologies and tools to assess whether a person is likely to fall into a particular age bracket or not”. Such technologies, which Chisholm pens as “innovative”, may involve detecting keystrokes, facial recognition or question-and-answer measures to “make an assessment about whether a person is a certain age”. While Chisholm noted the trialled “age assurance” technologies are “not quite there yet” and are only just “getting to the point where they can distinguish between certain ages”, he and Irwin were unable to immediately confirm whether users will have their age tested every time they interact with social media.

So on one hand, I don't want Australians (or people in general) to have to link their legal ID to their social media accounts, but that would at least be a comprehensible process whereas what the heck is this? An AI (because this is going to be "technologies" not humans who can be held accountable) will try to estimate your age from how you type? What data are they basing it on? Why are they going ahead with the legislation when the technology they propose to use is "not quite there yet" (translation: not yet working reliably, possibly at a much earlier stage of development than they're making it sound because the developers are incentivised to over-promise)?

In the article below a professor of internet studies points out that the government is saying "the onus will be on the platforms, rather than on children or their parents, to ensure everyone meets the age limit," which would mean companies like Meta and X will hold that identity information. Why are the companies that allow such dangerous material onto their platforms that children need to be legally protected from it considered trustworthy for that function?

so yeah in conclusion I think Australians should be quite upset about this and make the point as loudly and often as they can that they do not trust their age to be verified by the same companies that let people post beheading videos and CSAM.

fucking australia’s trying to get everyone to link their government id to their social media accounts else you cant use them anymore, the actual fuck is wrong with this country

[p-e-n-i-s-c-o-r-e]

Jewels

Summary: In which the reader and Lando had been broken up for a while. He comes into her jewelery store looking for something.

Warnings: Use of Y/n

Authors Note: Hey, fellas, how we doing. It's currently 10:31pm where I am. Meaning it's still Landos birthday 😼. Which is when I wanted to post this. Remember I am a beginner so pls don't bully me I'll cum :(. Anyways, enjoy!

It's been rough these past few years. Having had been broken by the person who you had thought was the one. The one who you were still deeply in love with now. Yeah, he was quite distant but you just thought he was stressed. Never have thought he would've called you late while you were sitting in your hotel room in Brazil. The words I think we should break up echoing into the room. The words sinking in as your heart breaks into millions of pieces. His reasoning being I fell out of love. You had hung up. You had this plan that you would quit your job, and surprise him at Brazil just in time to watch him race, but he broke up with you. Carlos was helping you with the plan, providing the paddock pass you would've needed. Now you don't know what to do. You don't have a job anymore. You had some money still in the bank yes, but not enough to pay the bills creeping in from your house back in Texas. You felt like dying. The one you loved with your whole being just broke up with you. You called Carlos, explaining the whole thing. He didn't know. How would he? Lando rarely had been talking to anyone lately. Carlos offered to help, which you appriciate, the only reason you were somewhat stable now was because of him. He helped you find an apartment in Monaco, helped whenever you were short with payments. You always refused, but he wanted to help. He felt bad for you.

Here you were now. You worked as a Jewler for a small Jewelry shop in Monaco, known for the most gorgeous engagement rings. You hadn't seen Lando in years, and your heart still hurt. Never really getting over him, you tried, went on a few dates here and there, your co-worker, Isabella, setting you up with a few guys she was friends with, but they never worked. They weren't him.

You were helping out a customer pick out a necklace for his wife's upcoming birthday when the door chimed, signaling a new customer had walked in. You look up ready to greet the customer like how you do the others, but you freeze once you lock eyes. It was him. The man you hadn't seen in 4 years. The man who had broken your heart. You feel your body start to grow heavy, but you keep it together.

"Welcome! If you need any specific help, just ask."

You say, looking at him like you don't recognize him. You turn back to the old man you were helping when Lando speaks

"Uh, yeah.. Engagement rings?"

What? Your face visibly falls, but you catch it quickly, not fast enough, though, because Lando notices. You speak.

"Yeah, right this way."

You lead Lando further into the store, where the Engagment Rings were showcased.

"Anything specific?"

You ask, your eyes scanning over the display of rings. Your heart clenching inside your chest.

"Anything with like... a flowery design? Oh, and a black band."

Your mind immediately thinks of one ring in stock. It was this beautiful double ring with a Moss Amite stone that sat in the middle, surrounded with smaller Mossanite stones, brought together with a black gold band that had leaves spreading around the stone. You walk over to the cabinet right next to the display case, and grab a small black velvet box, opening it to show Lando.

You watch as his eyes widen slightly at the sight of the ring. Your heart is starting to deflate around itself.

"Shit.. it's perfect... how much is it?"

"€1699.00"

You say, your voice betraying you as your voice breaks. He doesn't notice it, though, simply following you to the front counter to pay for the ring.

"So.. uh.. how you've been?"

"Alright."

You say, one worded answer. The air around you both is awkward. Very, very awkward.

"That's good."

Lando watches you type on the computer before speaking again.

"You got a boyfriend?"

Your body freezes slight at his words.

"No."

You look at him, he seems surprised. Everyone always is. How a pretty girl like you doesn't have a boyfriend. You just couldn't find one.

"Really? Have you had one since.."

He pauses a bit, hoping you would get what he was trying to say.

"Little flings. Nothing serious." You say bluntly. Waiting for a few papers to print.

"Ever plan on settling down?"

You hesitate to answer with the truth, but you do.

"Don't think I'm gonna find anybody." You place a few papers in front of Lando.

"Sign these"

He takes the papers and signs them where it tells him. Hes not exactly sure how to keep talking to you. The air around you both was very awkward.

"That's.. sad. I'm sure you'll find someone, though. I didn't think I would, but now I'm about to propose."

Your lips purse together. You were noticeably uncomfortable, grabbing the papers in front of him and putting them away in a file.

He could tell that you weren't interested in the conversation, but what he was saying wasn't untrue. He thought it might be a bit better if you both got lunch together.

"Do you wanna.. get lunch maybe? Catch up?"

You open your mouth to talk, but quickly shut it afterwards. Hesitating.

"I.. I don't think I can do that to myself Lando."

"Can I ask why?"

You saw the look of confusion on his face. Did he think you both could just.. be friends?

"Let's not do this now." You flipped the card machine towards him.

"No, please.. we need to." He pleads with you, trying to get you to open up.

"Pay for the damn ring Lando."

Your tone is stern. You felt like you were about to cry.

He's slightly hurt by the sternness in your voice, but alas he does what he's told and pays for the ring.

"Can we talk now?"

"Fine. Follow me."

You lead him into the breakroom of the store. Closing the door slight, leaving it a bit cracked.

"Why can't you get lunch with me?"

He's very confused. It's been 4 years. He just wants to catch up. So much has happened since then.

"I.. I never got over you Lando."

He looks at you surprised. How was he supposed to know? He had assumed after all these years you would've moved on by now, but you haven't.

"You..-You're still in love with me?"

You look back up at him, tears starting to pool into your eyes.

"I told you. I never got over you."

You tried to keep your voice from breaking but it was a lost cause. Your feelings for him never died, only dimmed a little, but since he walked throught that door, they had lighten back up.

"Y/n.. I..-I don't know what to say."

You don't know why you had hope. The tinyist bit of hope that he might still love you. He broke up with you because he didn't love you. A few tears rolled down your cheek.

"You're an..-an amazing person, Y/n. You deserve someone who loves you. Someone that's not me."

You were silent for a little before you spoke up with a question.

"Lando..I need to know..-"

You paused, trying to find the right words.

"When did you lose feelings..?"

You could see Landos body stiffen, as I he was dreading this question. He knew he had to be honest.

"Um.. a year.. before we broke up."

A year? He led you on for a whole year? He pretended for a year that he loved you like you loved him. Forced 'I love you's, forced kisses, forced smiles, forced everything. Tears steadily fall down your cheeks.

"You..-You led me on.. for a year..?"

"I'm so sorry."

Was all he could muster up. You felt like your was getting the life squeezed out of it.

"Why didn't you do it sooner?"

"What difference would it have made? We still would've broken up."

You can't believe those words just left him mouth. Did Carlos never tell him?

"The night you had broken up with me was the worst night you could've done it. I was in Brazil. I was going to surprise you. I had quit my job to be there for you and you told me you didn't love me anymore. Do you know how hard it is to hear that? I had quit my job to travel with you, but I did it for nothing."

He looked surprised, which you understood. He didn't know you were in Brazil at the time. He was silent. Not knowing what to say.

"I..-Im sorry."

"Save your apologies, just leave, please."

Your face was stained with tears, and your heart hurt so incredibly bad. A year. A year he had led you on. You were so incredibly in love with him you couldn't even tell how he was faking everything, and it made you feel so bad about yourself. You let love blind you.

"Bye, Y/n."

You watch as he turns for the break room door. Opening it so he can walk out.

"Goodbye, Lando."

[luvtak]

depollute me, gentle angel -`✮´- ljn

the feeling of falling in love has never been so sweet <3

genre/tw jeno x reader!! fluff so sweet it’ll rot your teeth! baby & honey used as petnames, jeno being shy and wonderful and in love, minor dreamies features, kissing, the honeymoon phase personified, gender neutral reader! mostly unedited.

w/c 1217

a/n well its been a minute since i’ve written for one of my dreamies, but i hope you like this one <3 i wrote it quick in the middle of the night, and i hope you can tell, its just the tone this love needs 🫀 please enjoy and let me know if you liked it!!

Jeno has never been in love.

When he was younger he thought he might be, a distant memory of a smile, a slight graze of cold hands. Butterflies in his belly and pink cheeks… but those feelings were always fleeting, a quick rush before the fluttering went away.

No Jeno has never been in love, but he think he might be. Two months ago, you walked up to him in the park, pretty lips drawing up; your smile so dashing he had to return it. That smile turned to a phone number, a phone number to a shared cup of coffee—He can’t believe a question about directions have led you here…

You look so sweet under the streetlight, skin aglow and eyes alight.

The pavement is isolated, no one else but the two of you breathing. His hand urges to hold yours, but he can’t trust his palms not to be clammy; He can’t trust his fingers not to shake or the blood not to rush to his face. He wonders if this is being in love, if the feeling always causes discomfort… he wonders if you feel this way too, if the pads of your fingers ache with the need to touch him, the way his do.

Earlier in the night you’d met his friends, grinning the whole time and telling jokes like you’d known them forever. So beautiful, he thought, like a picture that wasn’t finished until you were painted in.

Jeno knows he probably looked silly and love struck, so obvious in his affection that Hyuck made annoying whipping sounds, and Mark pinched his red hot face.

He couldn’t help but smile thinking about it, his lips lifting so high his eyes become crescents—a perfect picture of joy, so alluring you can’t help but ask,

“What’s got you so happy, baby?”

“Nothing, just glad you liked them is all.”

And you did, you liked Jaemin and his quiet chaos, Jisung and his hesitant happiness at the older boys mischief. Yes, you like them, and how could you not when you see Jeno in them all.

He’s there in their laughter and their harmless jokes, you can hear him in them, and you love them for it.

“Well, you love them, Jen… so how could I not?” You see the impact this has on him, the shaky breath he releases into the cold air and the way his strong hand clenches with nerves. He hasn’t touched you all night, too shy and too infatuated, so you reach out to him. Your hands coming to grasp at his arms, rubbing gently at his shoulder blades. He wraps himself around you so quickly, almost like he was waiting for you to say it was okay—such a sweet boy he is, waiting for permission even when it’s always a yes.

You met him in a moment quite like this, quiet and intimate… strangers then but not now.

You thought he was handsome and when he asked for your phone number you were convinced it was a joke. How could someone as lovely as him want to know you? but he did, and now he’s here with you: his face in your neck, and you love him you really do.

You feel his lips first, pressing the sweetest kisses behind your ear and smiling into your hair. Every touch a confession, every caress a promise from a devotee to his deity.

You love him, you love him, you love him.

“You make me so shy, honey…” He says, “so so shy, it’s like I could forget my own name.

“You don’t make me shy… you make me feel alive.” You tell him, and you mean it.

Every moment with Jeno is like accelerating on an empty freeway, like you might just fly if you drive fast enough.

He’s silent after you speak, the passing cars being the only sound around for miles. A quiet so deep, you’d be scared if it wasn’t for Jeno’s strong arms around your waist.

He isn’t scared of your confession; his silence is not fear, it's not doubt, but he needs to do this right. He needs you to understand that he’s new to this, that he’s busy and imperfect, but he loves you. He loves your laugh, the way it’s not pretty or sexy, but loud and silly and so wholly you. He loves the little scars on your hands—marks so old you don’t know where they came from. He loves your smile, your eyes, the way you love his friends and they loved you…

When you went to the bathroom at the restaurant, the boys all smiled at him, but it was Jaemin—Jaemin who’d been quiet all evening—who grabbed his hand and said, good job, puppy , you really did it!

He really did it, he thinks, he found you…

When he speaks again, its with an assurance that's unfamiliar under a streetlight at midnight. So strong with his conviction, your body draws impossibly closer to him.

“I’m so grateful you came up to me that day, y’know. I remember the whole thing, your blue coat and your yellow umbrella… I needed you then, I knew it, I can’t believe how badly I needed you.” He keeps shaking his head, and his hand is weaving its way closer to the back of your head… fingers reaching out to clutch the point your spinal cord meets your skull. “I’m so glad the boys liked you, I don’t know what I’d do if they didn’t…”

“Why wouldn’t they like me, baby?” You ask, “I love you too much for them not too.”

His smile is electric, 80 miles per hour down a dirt road… a smile that makes you feel like flying.

Jeno’s eyes close, laughter so happy it hurts you, and then he’s kissing you. Lips in your hair, reaching down to swipe against the slope of your neck. Butterfly kisses on your jaw, kisses so tender it fills your heart with an pain so sweet, so heartbreakingly beautiful.

When his kiss reaches your mouth, hovering against you and breathing in the carbon your body’s releasing, you wish you could paint this moment—trap it in canvas and hang it above your couch.

“I love you so much, honey, so so much.”

And then his lips are on yours. It’s like he wants to bruise, his kiss taking and taking, breathing you in like it’s all he needs to survive. Every cell, every vein, every muscle and every bone in his body needs you. His heart is beating so fast, he doesn’t know if his arteries can keep up, if he has enough strength to keep standing.

Your blood sings with want, a hunger for his affection that is foreign under this pocket of light.

You love him, you think, you love him and he loves you…

How wonderful a concept, to love and be loved, to have and to hold and whatever nonsense people promise to each other.

You love him and he loves you.

He pulls away from you with a resistance you can relate to, a soft smile gracing his handsome face, as pretty as the stars blotted out around you.

He takes your hand as says,

“Let's go home, huh, wanna love you where it’s warm.”

And you can’t think of anything better.

luvtak 2024

[to-the-stars8]

The Waynes' Nanny

Batfamily and Reader/ Bruce Wayne x Reader Chapters Ao3

Runaways

You didn’t know how to explain to Mr. Wayne that his two sons, Jason and Duke, snuck out of the house in search of you. 

You had taken the day off to attend your friend’s wedding, which had been fun until your third drink. No sooner had you tipped the glass to your lips did a little old lady tap you on the shoulder saying that two young men were looking for you. Intrigued by the prospect of being sought out by handsome men, you followed her to an empty room. There, the boys were sitting and eating away at some cake. 

It took you a few moments to realize that they were there all by themselves, and all at once shock mixed with panic rushed through you. Once the relief of finding them alright had passed, you scolded them to the point that both boys were in near tears. Between long lectures you would pull them into hugs, saying how glad you were that they were alright.

“Oh, what were you thinking!” You exclaimed when you let them go. “You could have gotten lost or kidnapped. Mr. Wayne would have my head—Mr. Wayne! The man is going to have a stroke.”

When you went to find a phone, Duke burst into tears as he mumbled that he didn’t want to get into trouble. Jason, as he tried to comfort his brother, had started to cry, too. By the time you returned, the pair could hardly string a sentence along together without hyperventilating. Even when you assured them that everything would be okay, they still refused to calm down. You had hoped that maybe seeing their father would help them, but he had made the situation worse. Mr. Wayne had come barreling through the doors already demanding to know what had crossed their minds to do such a thing. 

“Don’t shout,” You snapped, stroking Jason’s hair and rubbing Duke’s back. “They already know they’re in trouble.”

“I’m sorry,” Jason gasped out between heavy breaths as he reached out for his father. Bruce didn’t let his anger stop him from pulling the boy into his arms, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. He pulled Duke from your arms toward him, mumbling to his boys that he was glad that they were safe. 

“I—I’m sorry, Dad,” Duke cried. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” 

You shushed him before suggesting to Mr. Wayne that the four of you go outside to the car lest curious guests look in. He seemed to quietly fight the idea at first, wanting an explanation no matter who watched but gave in at the sight of his poor boys. You carried Duke while Bruce carried Jason, who was looking over his father’s shoulder at you. 

There was little hassle getting them buckled into the car since Bruce had threatened them with an even bigger punishment if they didn't behave from that moment on. You knew he wouldn’t, but the threat had sounded real enough for them to comply. As soon as you began closing the car door Duke kicked his foot to stop it.  

Duke, weeping, said, “No! Stay!”

You had tried to explain that you couldn’t, that you needed to stay for the rest of your friend’s wedding, but they weren’t listening. Finally, you asked, “Why are you two acting this way? I was coming home later tonight!”

Jason, who was a bit more coherent, said, “Dick said you don’t love us, and you only spend time with us because you get paid.” 

You groaned, rolling your eyes as you shot a look over at Mr. Wayne. “Do you wanna have that talk with Richard when you get home, or would you rather it be me?” Bruce only sighed before turning his back to you and the boys. Shaking your head, you said, “I get paid to watch you kids, yes, but that does not mean I don't love you.” 

“Really?” Jason asked. 

You kissed his forehead and said, “Really.” Tugging at the buckles of the car seats, you made sure they were secure. “Be good for your Dad. You guys gave him quite a scare.”

“Okay,” They said in unison. 

Once the car door swung shut, you looked at Mr. Wayne with a coy smile. He only returned the light-hearted gesture by narrowing his eyes and frowning. 

“Don’t lie to my kids like that. I don’t want you hurting their feelings,” He said as he rounded the car to the driver’s side. 

“I wasn’t,” You tried to say, but he had already started the car. You didn’t know if it was the drink or your annoyance of his hot and cold temper towards you. It made you want to scream at him, to get him to stop shoving whatever feelings he had with having a nanny, and to say them to you outright. Instead of going to him, you decided to go back into the venue for another drink. 

You told yourself you hadn’t meant to drink as much as you did, but you couldn’t help it when the wedding was getting to be so much fun. The drama had gotten heated, the bar was endless, and it only doomed you from there. By the end of it, you were sober enough to call a cab yet not to walk in a straight line or not slur your words. When you returned to Wayne Manor you tried to be quiet getting in, but that only resulted in you running into the entranceway table. After skillfully saving a vase from toppling over, you began to remove your coat. 

“When did coats get to be so hard to take off,” You mumbled to yourself, trying to shrug off your jacket, but it had gotten caught on your purse. 

“Are you okay,” A voice asked. 

Jumping, you tried to whip around to see who it was but tripped on your own feet. Luckily, hands caught you before you could fall to the floor. Looking up, you noticed it was Mr. Wayne, and you loathed to see him. 

“I’m fine,” You said, standing straight. “Thank you.”

“You’re drunk,” He pointed out like you didn’t already know. You rolled your eyes before trying to get your coat off again, but you only ended up stumbling right into Mr. Wayne’s chest. Mumbling an apology, you started to try again before he told you to stop. Mr. Wayne then slowly took off your purse and took your coat, throwing them on the table. “Come on.”

You hadn’t expected him to loop an arm around your waist and help you up the stairs. He was kind about it, too, which left you even more confused. “I love the kids, you know.”

“What?” Mr. Wayne asked, his tone mixed with genuine confusion and irritation. 

You gulped. “Earlier you said not to lie about loving the kids, but I wasn’t lying.” 

He didn’t say anything at first, and you thought he would just leave it there. But, after you made it up to the first landing of the stairs, he said, “I know. It’s…I don’t want my kids getting hurt if things go bad. Do you understand?”

“I do,” You grumbled, swaying a bit. His grip tightened around your waist and he pulled you more into him. “You’re a good father. I’d like to have you as my dad.”

He managed a smile. “A lot of people would.”

You giggled before you hiccuped. When you looked back up at Mr. Wayne to see if he noticed, he was holding back a chuckle. You groaned, before saying, “I didn’t mean to come home this way.”

“Yes, you did,” He corrected and the two of you finally made it to the first floor. “But, don’t worry about it. You’re good at your job, and this isn’t an often occurrence.”

“Plus, it’s my day off,” You added. 

He agreed with you that it was, indeed, your day off. When the two of you had made it to your bedroom door, there was a brief pause as Mr. Wayne considered whether or not it would be appropriate for him to enter your room. After you failed to open the door, he decided that no harm would be done. You fell onto the bed before kicking off your heels with a satisfied groan. 

Bruce was going to leave you until you called out, “Mr. Wayne.” He stopped, kneeling over you as you spoke. Your eyes were closed and you were slurring through every word.“Are Duke and Jason okay?”

It was sweet that you still were concerned for them. “They were upset when they got their games taken away.”

“Jason will be fine. He never played games much.”

“That’s why I told him no new books for a month.” Bruce paused before adding, “I apologize for saying you didn’t love the kids.”

You opened your eyes and smiled. “Apology accepted, but just this once…We’re friends, you know? Even though you’re my boss. I won’t betray you. I pinky promise on my life. We’re in this together, old man.”

Bruce tried not to dwell too much on the old man part of your sentiment. “Thank you, Nan. I appreciate that.”

“Very good, Mr. Wayne,” You said. “Good night.”

He was going to take that as his cue to leave the conversation, but your drunken brain had other ideas. You were quick to lean up and peck him on the lips before he even had a chance to say goodnight. All at once he felt a range of emotions; confusion, surprise, and embarrassment. You were so nonchalant about the whole situation, probably not having realized it had happened, that you simply turned over to sleep. Quickly, Bruce used that as an excuse to not bring it up since you were more than likely not to remember it by the next morning. 

Right as he was going to step out the door, you called him back. He poked his head into your room again and felt his heart flush when you asked, “Did I just kiss you?”

For his sake and yours, he answered, “No.”

You hummed before dropping your head back onto the pillow. Closing the door, Bruce reminded himself that the last thing he needed to be doing was thinking about an employee in such a romantic way. 

[vaguely-concerned]

the things it adds to both of the characters involved that lucanis used to have a thing for viago could not have been more tailor made to be for me. literally the ideal thing to come out of this game for me personally and specifically and spiritually. I mean I'm teia x viago trash until the day I die and nothing will ever change this (and with the best will in the world and even the power of lucanis' big beautiful soulful eyes, that would never have worked out even if viago DID somehow understand he was being propositioned. which I'm not convinced he did. the mutual 'so. snakes are pretty cool huh. and. knives. also' awkward energy without someone of teia's charisma and people skills involved to mitigate it... it would have been dire), but on so many levels I find it so incredibly charming for what it says about them both that the (one-sided) attraction was there once.

what's more, it means the man about whom this legendary paragraph was written:

Viago was not a typical Antivan. He liked facts—checklists, numbers, precise measurements. Heart palpitations, clammy hands, tight pants—Viago did not like these things. In fact, he would go so far as to say he hated them. Mild curiosity was his favorite mood.

has got some of the hottest coolest deadliest people in thedas down so catastrophically bad it's got them acting unwise. teia had to wait a UST-drenched decade for him to be ready to take his fucking gloves off for her. and she did!! the tetchiest most neurotic least approachable little vetinari knockoff of a man you ever saw has game for days and days and lives rent free in heads for years. in eight little talons viago consistently feels so inadequate up against dante and it's like. man I'm shaking you by the lapels you have what he'll never have. the ability to bewitch body and soul with your terrible personality and long thin legs. do not waste the gift you've been given go get her she's waiting!!!

(lucanis is really good at reading people, so I wonder if maybe he saw through all of that to some of the steadiness and incredible capacity for warmth and tenderness in specific interpersonal relationships you see viago have with teia when he finally opens up enough, and maybe that was part of it. either way it's so perfect that both he and teia have regarded viago with this affectionate intrigued amusement. lucanis still seems pretty fond of him in a 'viago continues to be exactly himself no matter what else happens or goes wrong. comforting universal constant' sort of way, he brings him up quite a lot in party banter.)

you've seen lucanis' game in this day and age, arguably or at least hopefully older and wiser -- can you imagine how catastrophically bad it must have been back when he presumably handed viago, most paranoid man in thedas all years running, a knife like this expressed everything it needed to. people give him so much shit for the cake moment being his big romantic lock-in, but considering where we started that is GROWTH and I for one am so proud of him fhsdkjaf.

also I wonder at what point vis-a-vis that whole Situation teia and viago met for the first time, leading us to ask... just how much was it a matter of lucanis simply being ignored out of a lack of interest on viago's part (tbf, not entirely unlikely). how much was it lucanis truly not managing to make himself understood. (all but certainly. literally how would one understand that. I think it says some sweet things about rook and lucanis' dynamic that they -- somehow -- DO pick up what he's putting down in a similar scenario presumably b/c they know him pretty well by then haha.) how much was it viago interpreting the romantic move as a death threat from one of the most dangerous people alive and freaking out. (1000% and indubitably.) and how much was it andarateia steal-your-girl cantori turning up and thus setting off whatever spectacular, volatile, awesome-in-the-original-sense chemical reaction between the substances of her and viago's souls that goes on to this day and makes everything else kind of a side note at best. a gentle mix of several of these things, perhaps. ...god I love all these characters so much

[lottiesgrl]

𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘀𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗿𝗵𝗶𝗮𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗻 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻𝘀

cw: canon-typical violence, mentions of stalking, semi-toxic behavior, smut, fingering (r!receiving), face riding (rhiannon receiving), strap-on use (rhiannon receiving), inspired by an ask that i no longer have in my inbox

🗡you'd be lying if you said you hadn't noticed the way rhiannon looked at you when you talked to your mutual coworkers. you were always able to notice it - the nasty looks she shot your way when you spoke with claudia and linus, even if it's over something as mundane as reporting on a missing bike

🗡you're pretty sure she hates you, and you're not sure why. i mean, what could you have done to deserve the way her eyes bore into the back of your head every time you're in a conversation?

🗡so, you vow to try and talk to her, in order to dissuade this "grudge" she has against you. but when you do, it doesn't go at all how you're expecting. the corners of her lips pull into a shy smile every time you approach her desk, her eyes averted and fingers pulling at the hem of her skirt.

🗡around the same time, you start to notice a few things off around the workplace. whenever jeff, that asshole who keeps criticizing your article proposals, says something particularly harsh, he always coincidentally gets caught up on the toilet. you're not sure if it has something to do with the fact that rhiannon is the one handing him his morning coffee each morning with a sickly-sweet smile that you're sure is hiding years of disdain.

🗡and it's not just at your job, either - the sleazy guy on the trolley that always tries to cop a feel each time you pass him hasn't been on since you complained about him to rhiannon, pointedly avoiding eye contact when you notice him on the street as he rushes to take the tube instead. and the woman in your neighborhood who always complains your lawn decorations has been complimenting them more than usual, with a strange expression that you can't quite discern.

🗡if you though rhiannon's jealousy couldn't get any worse than it already can be, you'd be deathly wrong. when the two of you get together, it's like someone flipped a switch, and her jealousy increases tenfold.

🗡it starts out with subtle gestures and touches, innocuous things that you might not have been able to notice if you hadn't already been aware of her possessive tendencies. a hand wrapped around your waist while you're socializing, intertwining your fingers as you walk to work together, and an arm flung over your shoulders when you're at the pub. she always needs to be touching you in some way, and you don't mind one bit.

🗡but as time goes on, she starts to be less subtle. well, at least she thinks she's being subtle. to you, the way she stares daggers into anyone who even remotely flirted with you was anything but inconspicuous.

🗡it's no surprise that she's incredibly insecure, and this is especially true when you're in a relationship with her. to her, the reason she's so possessive is because you're the only person in her life who truly sees her. no one else has cared about her like you, and the thought of someone else stealing you from her is absolutely mortifying.

🗡there have been many instances in which she breaks down to you about her insecurities, and you understand it. in your eyes, she's the most gorgeous girl you've ever seen, and you experience your fair share of jealousy. you run your hands through her hair, something incredibly vulnerable for her that she's allowed you to do, and assure her that you wouldn't want anyone else.

🗡you're more than content to live with rhiannon's possessiveness, even if it means that the men that bother you often end up missing.

nsfw under the cut

🗡when rhiannon gets jealous, more often than not, she gets turned on. really, really turned on. after all, it gives her such a rush to know that people can look at you all they want, but no one will ever be able to have you, to fuck you, like her.

🗡if she notices someone flirting with you while you're out at the bar, she will be dragging you home, desperate to have you all to herself (but not before she approaches the two of you, wrapping her arms around you and kissing your cheek while asking, "babe, who's this?")

🗡sometimes, if the bar is too far or she's feeling especially needy, she'll drag you into the nearest alleyway then and there. you have your reservations, but when she's two fingers deep inside of you whispering that she'll kill anyone who sees the two of you, your inhibitions fly out the window.

🗡whether she's dominant or not depends on the day. some days, she wants to bury her fingers deep inside of you, making you cry out her name until she's wrung multiple orgasms out of you. it gives her such a rush, knowing that you give in so easily and so willingly, all because you're hers. but some days, all she wants is for you to get her off. whether it's guiding your hands to her (absolutely dripping) panties, riding your face, or bouncing on your strap, she needs you to make her cum, and you're more than happy to oblige.

🗡she'll force you to look into her eyes, her grip on your chin tightening and wrenching your face up to look at her if you dare to break eye contact for even a second. "look at me", she growls, bottom lip between her teeth as you bring her closer to the edge. she wants - no, needs - you to see her, because you're the only one who can. you see her.

🗡aftercare with her after jealous sex is always so soft, pressing soft kisses to her forehead as the two of you lie in bed panting. you reassure her that you're hers, forever and always, and you can see the way a smile forms on her face at your words.

🗡you're hers. forever. and she'll always make sure of that.

[oh-no-its-bird]

HELPPP IM CRYING ACTUALLY IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE THEM???? HONORED TBH????? I love these silly little guys SO much I'm losing my mind over here that u like them enough to write smthn so long ab it, omg don't look at me rn I'm crying

I never thought too much ab Haruka's voice before but tbh now what u described it that way that's just the Official Haruka Voice Take (tm) actually, that is how she sounds now

"I've got nothing better to do, I think she's funny and I want to reinforce her bad habits <3" is so fucking funny and so fucking accurate, this is exactly what is happening in the twins minds actually.

In my notes for their personalities in my notesapp, I just wrote "They're genuinley just the fucking WORST to deal with. Their "I'm going to cause problems on purpose" dials got cranked up to 10 and got stuck that way at birth" which I think sums it up nicely.

I've been writing silly small stuff for them lately to hoard jealously in my notesapp and I think Haru has a genuine mean streak while Hiro is a lot more bark than bite— but also Haru looks and talks a bit gentler while Hiro acts and sounds rougher, so they often give off the opposite impressions. Don't worry Hiro, your brother will do what you aren't strong enough to (crime)

There's all sorts of fun layers to it too, like, considering they're from a clan who tries to shelter it's children— but they're also from the infamously bloody warring states period, who had to bring up their children much quicker and rougher than modern. I think Hiro would have made a wonderful modern day shinobi while Haru is a good example of the inherent violence of the warring states, just buried under good cheer and playfulness. Mmmm phycology,,,

I love their little trio with Shiruka, they are besties and she's also their first real friend their age, while she's kind of but not quite an outcast in her own clan due to her parents poor standing. She's older sibling coded and so tired of their shit but also quietly, perpetually amused by it, which is probably part of why she sticks around. That, plus their clear undying loyalty towards anything and anyone considered "theirs"— a list she's made it on and does her best to reply in kind

They are holding hands and will continue to hold hands together till they inevitably die at ~19 for the good of the village, yippie !!!

At least they'll get to live on in the memory of Hiname,,

Just kidding she dies like 3 years later, whoops!

BUT YEAH THEM !!! I love them so much, I had way too much fun thinking ab just the ecosystem for young shinobi in early konoha.

I have so many more thoughts ab it all tbh, theres no doubt tons of things happening as so many different people and clans settle in to a new normal but I ofc have my focus

I think I accidentally created some sort of little mystery/conflict with my silly meme of Shiruka going "he wants to order break into my clan heirs house" while also stating that she and her family aren't currently in good standing with the Nara main family.

I wasn't thinking ab it too hard when I drew it but now I'm sat over here like "girl why are you helping Haru break into your clan heirs home when you're already most likley on their (or at least their parents) shit list?? Who is the clan heir and why does Haru want to break into their house?? What drama is this??"

I'll probably think harder about it later, I feel like there's potential there

I need to stop thinking so hard ab potential early konoha narrative things bc I refuse to be consumed by it and know I very much will give in to The Voices if I continue

I say that but I'm absoloutley going to continue to think ab them. Actually.

Ough,,, Wolves of the Woods my beloved,,, one day I'll write u,,, one day,,

That said I'm also enamored with Tetsuo as clan heir (someone get him out of there!!!) He's great at it but also really, really does not want the position.

I think when he was younger and Tobirama was visiting the clan, he point blank begged him to take the position— But Tobirama said no, he's a Senju through and through and he's proud to be second to his Anija. A week later, and Tetsuo officially got the title (and maybe cried about it but only just a little and only on the inside)

(Tetsuo is still nursing a tiny grudge over this, though it's lessened slightly since Sakumo's birth)

POV he's in an especially bitchy mood and Tobirama asks him something and he just kind of grumbles, "oh, I'm sorry, are you my clan heir?"

Queue ??????? from like half of those present

He's so cute tho I think he has my favorite design of all of them. He dresses the fanciest for sure— Haruka totally owns similar things (I think the half and half haori is super cute and I want it to be a clan staple) but only wears it on occasions where she needs to, while he's more traditional/conscious of himself and his position, so he dresses like that all the time. He's probably the guy they send to the capital whenever it's necessary and the clan heads presence isn't needed

Random early konoha oc fun fact no one asked for: I have a vague messy fic idea from months ago now that basically amounts to "the Hatake's die before Madara defects to the village, and Kabuto, in practicing Orochimaru's edo tensei in preparation for the final battle, revives them— then manages to lose them in transport before they wake up. Not knowing any better, they flock to Madara to help in his fight"

I love time travel I love drama I love horrible misunderstandings and family/clan drama !!!!!

Uhh take some notes from that:

ANYWAYS THANKS SO MUCH IM SO GLAD U LIKE THEM SORRY FOR MY WORD VOMIT I JUST GET SO EXCITED AB THEM I COULD EXPLODE WITH IT ACTUALLY

Silly, early Konoha lore and oc things drawn while thinking about this post

!!! early konoha my beloved !!! I have so many thoughts ab it, I want to write a fic that's just silly early Konoha things viewed from the perspective of the less important clan members and their everyday lives. I'm aware the audience for that is incredibly small but I have too much fun just thinking ab it to really care!

Ichigo remains the only naruto oc Ive ever actually written for (in one step three steps), tho Haruka has been mentioned in multiple fics of mine now just bc she fills the role of Tobirama + Hashirama's blood aunt that I needed to be filled in my "Kakashi interacts with Tobirama w the knowledge that they are directly related" fics, of which there are now multiple

but yeah, take some silly art and lore comics !! I had fun while making these and will now probably put all these ocs on a shelf where I will not touch them for some more months

[hawkinshorror94]

Can you write about a tav who's really shy and awkward and she tries to confess to astarion, karlach, Gale, and halsin (individually) but she freezes up and stutters out something stupid

This shouldn't have taken me as long as it did but here we are. Finished, Halsin's is a bit spicier than the rest because we all know how that he tells us that he is interested in the game

Gale

“It shouldn’t be this hard.” You thought to yourself as you sat outside your tent, a tome opened and long forgotten in your lap as your mind kept wandering to the wizard. He was giving you all the signs that he was interested, the weave, complementing your “musk”, literally saying that watching you fight aroused him. But yet here you were so terribly unsure of yourself as you sigh and toss the tome aside and decide to make your way over to his tent.

“Oh, what do I owe the pleasure?” Gale asked as you pull back his tent flap, he sits cross legged with a book in his lap. His position unknowingly mirrored yours before. 

“I came to talk.” You stutter out and you notice the slight upturn of his lips as you sit across from him. “How do you feel in me?” The second the words leave your mouth you kick yourself. “I mean about me, how do you feel about me?” A string of curses clutter  your brain as a blush floods your cheeks with crimson.

“Well, I haven’t quite found out what it feels like to be in you,” He smirks and takes your hands gently in his own larger ones “But as far as how I feel about you, I think you know. You’re kind, strong and ravishing. You give me life.” You breath out heavily through your nose as he says this glancing between his lips and your conjoined hands. 

“Can I kiss you?” You say quickly and he doesn’t answer, just pulls you into him smashing his lips against yours. Actions spoke louder than words anyway.

Karlach

“Soldier?” Karlach says as you walk up rubbing your hands against your trousers. Karlach had just gotten her second upgrade from Dammon and you really wanted to tell her how you felt, maybe even experiment with how hot she could get without burning up.

“Karlach, I’ve been thinking.” You start as she looks down at you with a grin.

“Oh dangerous.” She laughed quietly, why did she have to do that? Be so smooth and cool with her reactions while you were trembling under her gaze. Maybe that was part of being hell’s champion, being cool and collected when it mattered most. 

You froze under her gaze and she reached out a warm hand touching your elbow lightly to ground you, to thaw the words stuck on your tongue. 

“I really, really like you Karlach. And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same because your this super fucking hot barbarian.” You're a rambling dummy, you chide yourself internally and Karlach and laughs. Something warm and kind and it makes you feel a little better. 

“I really, really like you too, soldier.” She says in a giddy tone that warms your heart as she takes your hands in her own squeezing them (only a little too hard). She takes no time in showing you how well her new upgrade works either.

Halsin

“Say the words and I’m yours.” The words rang around in your skull like angry bees in a jar. Halsin had such a honeyed tongue that even those simple were enough to have you in absolute shambles. You scrub the skin with ferver with the sponge as you try to scrub Halsin’s voice from your head. You hear a rustling from the bushes, assuming it Scratch you go about your bathing. Scratch’s favorite activity was licking the water from their legs as they dried after a much needed bath. It was annoying to everyone but who was she to deny the dog the simple pleasures of life, even if that was soapy river water. 

“Just as nature intended.” A low hum and that honeyed voice made you drop the sponge and try to hide yourself and the blush that covered your face. “Don’t mind me, I just came down here to whittle.” Halsin chuckles sitting down on the sandy river bank pulling out a knife and a piece of wood.

“Halsin-” You stammer as you dip yourself into the dark water effectively hiding yourself from view. “Would you like to j-join me?” He chuckles as he looks down at the whittled duck in his hand before sitting it down. 

“I thought you’d never ask, my heart.”

Astarion

He is fang deep in her neck as a little soft moan escapes his throat. The sound you might make after you bite into something so sweet that you feel like you might have just experienced Elysium if only for a moment. One hand cradles your head and his fingers are scratching at your scalp and the over is at your hip and it all feels incredibly intimate except you're not even together.

It’s not that you don’t want that it’s the opposite, but you were too nervous to tell. His charismatic demeanor makes you shy away from a confession, but while he feeds he is different. Vulnerable and soft, at your mercy. 

“Astarion,” You nudge him gently. “I need to tell you s-something really important.” He hums against you knowing he is in fact listening. “I like you a lot and I’m sure you don’t feel the same.” You trail off not knowing what to say next because he has stopped drinking from your neck and he just hovers there for a moment. Then your field of vision is filled with him, blood dribbling down his chin. 

“And what would make you think that I don’t feel the same about you.” He murmurs his voice soft as he searches your face, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. 

“Because I-I’m just me and you’re you.” Wow, smooth one, you think to yourself. 

“Oh darling, you’re more than just you.” He purrs as his lips break into a wide grin dipping his lips down to yours. 

[levis-poison-is-my-medicine]

Cat-Levi

(The Tea Lovers Pt. 6)

A Levi x reader fanfic

Crossposted from AO3

A/n: New chapter alert!

tags: fluff and humor, silly and sweet, tea-obsessed fem!reader with their head in the clouds (word count: 2.2k)

(Part one) / (Levi x reader Masterlist)

The office door fell shut with a clang. Levi tossed the envelope onto the desk, then turned around to face you. You expected him to scold you, but he said nothing. He just stood there and stared at you, one foot tapping the floor in an irritated manner, like he was waiting for something. The silence was hard for you to bear.

"So I take it the drawings are not to your liking, then?" you asked tentatively.

"Now what gave you that impression?" he deadpanned.

"Maybe the way you immediately ordered me into your office after seeing them? Though I guess it could also be to express admiration for my outstanding artistry in private…"

"Certainly not," he huffed. He was scowling again.

"Didn't think so," you murmured. So much for lightening the mood. He really was angry, after all. Maybe you should work on defending yourself.

"You asked to see them, I gave them to you. I did exactly as you told me. So what's the problem, exactly? I can't read your mind."

"Tch," he made. "Guess I need to spell it out for you."

"That would be nice," you said. Though you could already imagine what it was.

"The problem is…this." He pulled out the topmost drawing from the envelope and pushed it in your direction without looking at it. "Why am I like that?"

You gave it a quick glance. He was leaning against the wall, one hand up in his hair, making his bared chest muscles stretch. You had put a lot of attention to detail in there, so you were quite proud of it.

"Shirtless, you mean?"

He nodded, his jaw tense.

"It's a very popular theme with the ladies. I already told you these were all commissions. They want to see what you look like underneath your uniform."

He scoffed. "That's none of their business. Besides, how would you know? You've never even seen me shirtless."

"You are right, I haven't, so there might be some inaccuracies. I'm usually really meticulous, so this has been bothering me for a while, if you must know. I think I got the muscles about right, in fact I really put my heart into those abs...but you probably have some scars that I don't know about, right? Why don't you show me?"

You looked at him expectantly, your curiosity getting the better of you.

"What?!" he asked, dumbfounded. He even forgot to scowl for a moment. "Please? Just a quick peek?"

"No."

"I just want to know if I got it right," you pouted. "At least tell me."

"No."

"Then don't complain if the drawings aren't perfect next time."

His eyes narrowed. "There won't be a next time."

"Right," you mumbled. "I know."

"You apparently don't."

"These really were just drawings I had left from before. What was I supposed to do with them? Burn them?"

"Yes," Levi said.

"Do they really make you that uncomfortable?" you asked.

"They do."

"Okay," you said. "I'll burn them. They make you uncomfortable, so I'll burn them all. Satisfied?"

Levi didn't say anything. He just glared at you, arms crossed over his chest. You could tell he was still mad.

"I am sorry," you said softly.

He nodded. "When you're done burning those drawings, clean the stables. Be thorough. I'll check."

"What? That's gonna take so long!"

"This is nonnegotiable."

"But–"

"You're not happy with your punishment?" he asked with raised eyebrows.

You nodded furiously. "I don't think it's fair." "Fine. After the stables, you will now also do the women's barracks. Not just your room, but all of them."

Your eyes grew big. "You can't even check those," you muttered defiantly.

"I'll ask someone to do it for me. You're lucky, they probably won't have the same standards."

"This is impossible to do in a day," you pouted. "Not that I'm not happy with the punishment. 'Cause I am," you added quickly. You didn't want him to come up with more.

"You have all week," Levi said. He almost sounded amused. His face was back to his usual cool expression.

"Deal." You took the envelope with the drawings from the table, then hesitated, biting your lip. "Levi?"

"Yeah?"

"We'll still have teatime later, right?"

"Of course. Don't be an idiot."

You breathed a sigh of relief.

– –

"Of course he would need to have black, shiny fur", you giggled to yourself as you sat hunched over a piece of paper in a quiet corner of Hange's lab, adding some sparkles to show just how clean it was.

Instead of watching over a very slow, probably very important experiment, like you were supposed to, you were completely absorbed in perfecting your current drawing, which depicted a somewhat irritated-looking cat. Naturally, it wasn't just any cat. You were trying to capture the very essence of Levi Ackerman, distilling it into the shape of the animal on the paper in front of you.

This was your latest plan to get around his order which banned you from making or selling drawings of him. You had to be extra careful after he had chewed you out last time. You'd never seen him so mad. Well, it certainly hadn't helped when you asked him to take off his shirt. He had you scrubbing floors for all of last week. You were finally done with it, and you certainly had no desire to repeat that anytime soon. But you still found it impossible not to wonder whether your portrayal of him had been accurate. (Maybe he'd show you when he wasn't so mad.)

"Don't look at me like that", you mumbled to Cat-Levi, suddenly feeling a little guilty under his reproachful gaze.

"Don't you know I'm doing this all for you?"

If you wanted to be able to afford Levi's birthday present, you had no choice but to resort to methods like these. Surely he would understand. Better yet, he would never find out in the first place.

You nodded at the picture, satisfied. It was still in its draft stage, but it was getting there. In fact, it was kind of cute, and the longer you looked at it, the cuter it became.

"You're so precious," you gushed. "I wish you were real." Your face broke into a massive grin as you imagined what Cat-Levi would actually be like.

Chortling, you started to scribble a list of traits underneath it.

Smol

You don't choose him. He chooses you.

Perpetually grumpy (secretly a big softie but likes to keep the people around him on their toes)

Hits you with his cute little paws when you disturb him while he's sleeping

Hits you when you try to pet him without his permission

If he wants pets, he approaches you first. Then you have to give him attention. If you don't - you guessed it - he'll pout and hit you (with a cute little paw of course)

Is not afraid to draw blood (but with his special chosen person, he hits them paw only without any claws)

Others when they disturb them? They get it bad.

Did I already mention his cute little paws?

Cleanly as fuck. Don't disturb him while he's grooming himself. He will be your enemy.

Has trouble sleeping but when his chosen person is there with him he can relax

Hates being picked up. It makes him feel smol. Never make him feel smol.

Looves head scritches

Loves gourmet cat food. He's a luxury babe. (But if it comes from his favorite person, he will accept anything they feed him.)

You were so immersed in your writing that you didn't even notice Levi leaning in the doorway.

He watched you as you sat in front of the bubbling flasks, bent over your notes, your face hidden behind a curtain of your hair. Your pen was scratching furiously over the paper, exuding an air of productivity and concentration. He was almost impressed.

Then you giggled.

All of his illusions were shattered in an instant. Clearly, you were doing anything but working.

He approached you with a scowl on his face, already suspecting the worst.

"Are you drawing me again?"

You looked up, startled at the sudden presence, but your wide grin remained in place.

"Nooo! It's just a cat. Not everything's about you, you know."

You ostentatiously pushed the drawing over to him, trying to show him that you had nothing to hide. "See?"

Levi peered down at the cat which sat there with a wrinkled nose, its irritated gaze mirroring his own.

"Tch."

Your smile grew even wider. "Buut, now that you're here…lend me a hand, will you? I need help coming up with a name for this cat! What would you name him?"

You held out the drawing to him. He didn't take it. "Shouldn't you be working?" He motioned to the experiment set up in front of you.

"Ah, that," you said, like you had only just remembered it. "Nothing's been happening for the past three hours. I think it's a bust." You extended your hand even further, waggling the sheet of paper right under his nose.

"Come on, it will only take a second. Then I will get back to watching this thing like a hawk, I promise!"

Levi begrudgingly accepted the drawing and read the notes with raised eyebrows. "Who would even like this cat?"

You gasped, clutching at your chest in horror. "Excuse me? I do! Everyone does. He's precious, okay? You wouldn't know true cuteness even if it hit you in the face."

"I think I would," he said, giving you a glance.

"Obviously not. He's like, the definition of cute." You were pouting. "So, did you come up with a name?"

"Hellspawn," he said dryly.

"Noo, that's so mean! That's not even a real name."

"Fine." Levi sighed. He was quiet for a while, thinking. You looked at him expectantly.

"Herbert," he said finally, his tone serious.

You burst out laughing.

"What?" He frowned. "You wanted a real name. I gave you one."

"No, no, it's great, really. You're absolutely right," you tried to appease him.

"Herbert it is then."

Of course, this was just his undercover name. He would always be a Levi to you.

You took the paper from him and added a bowl, lovingly writing 'Herbert' on it in cursive letters.

When you were done, Levi was still standing there with his arms crossed.

You shot him a questioning look. "So, why did you come here? Did you want something?"

"Just wondering why you were late."

"Late?" You took out your pocket watch. It was just after 4 o'clock. "Oh, it's teatime already? I can't believe I almost missed it! I totally lost track of time." You jumped up from your seat. "Let's go!"

"What happened to watching your experiment with hawk eyes?"

You winced, visibly deflated as the excitement drained from your body. "You're right", you mumbled. "I did say that…" Why had you promised that, again?

You slumped back into the chair, eyes fixed on the flasks. They were still bubbling happily, almost as if they were mocking you.

Hange had told you to watch the experiment until they got back. It had seemed easy enough, while also giving you the perfect excuse to get out of today's training. You just never would've imagined they'd take this long.

"Go on without me…" you said in a dramatic, choked up voice.

Levi snorted. He pulled up a chair. "Don't be stupid. You'll get withdrawal symptoms." He knew how you got when you didn't have your afternoon tea. It wasn't pretty.

"These your notes?" He pointed at the lab journal.

You stared at him. It certainly looked like he was offering to watch the experiment for you. But that couldn't be right. You had to be dreaming again. Or hallucinating. It had been a while since you'd had your last tea. Maybe these were some new withdrawal symptoms? Still, you had to make sure.

"Don't tell me… You would give up on teatime for me?"

"Go before I change my mind."

"Wow. For real? Thank you!" You beamed at him. "I'm honestly so touched. You're the best, you know that? The best!"

You bent forward to give him a little kiss on the cheek. His eyes widened.

"I really don't know what I'd do without you," you went on, still smiling cheerfully, before getting up from your chair.

Levi cleared his throat. He wasn't looking at you. "I have work to do. So don't take too long."

"Of course not," you reassured him. "I'll be right back. You won't even notice I was gone."

He rolled his eyes. That was a blatant lie. You always took your time with tea, savoring every last drop.

You were already at the door when you suddenly turned back around.

"I just want you to know…"

"What?" Levi asked.

"I'll never forget your glorious sacrifice," you declared solemnly.

Before he could answer, you were already out the door.

Levi looked after you, absently bringing a hand up to his cheek.

"Tch. Always so dramatic," he grumbled to himself, but his gaze was soft.

Tag list: @thechaoticarchivist, @mmm-alhaitham, @nironasaran, @leviiheichou, @huffleruffplant, @shutupp1, @iifrui, @shakysif, @ickearmn

[cailinsblog]

Saved for later-Charles leclerc

Charles leclerc x reader

Honestly super cute💕💕

Masterlist

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon at Charles Leclerc and Y/N’s shared apartment in Monaco. The sun was softly streaming through the windows, casting a warm glow on the room. The only sounds in the apartment were the faint buzz of a fan and the soft hum of Y/N's phone as she scrolled through TikTok.

Charles, on the other hand, was sprawled out on the couch, his head comfortably resting in Y/N's lap. She ran her fingers gently through his messy hair, occasionally scratching his scalp, something he always loved. His eyes were half-closed, and despite the relaxed atmosphere, he wasn’t quite asleep—more like in that peaceful in-between state, content and at ease. Their golden retriever, Leo, was curled up on the floor beside the couch, his little tail thumping rhythmically as he dozed off in the warmth.

Y/N was completely engrossed in her phone, scrolling through endless TikToks. Her free hand absentmindedly played with Charles’ hair, while her other hand was busy tapping through her feed. Every now and then, she let out a little giggle at the funny videos she found, unaware that Charles was peeking up at her through half-lidded eyes.

Leo, as usual, was close to Charles, his fur soft and warm against Charles' side. The dog was the perfect addition to their family, always by their side, whether they were out on the town or just relaxing at home.

Y/N’s thumb stopped scrolling when she came across a video of a fan edit. The music started playing, and the video showcased clips of Charles: driving on the track, celebrating on the podium, and even a few funny moments from his personal life. The caption read, *“Charles Leclerc is a whole mood”* and Y/N’s smile widened as she watched the video.

Unknowingly to her, Charles' eyes flickered open, and he turned his head slightly, peeking at the phone. His lips curled into a small smirk as he saw the edit. He wasn’t surprised that fans made these kinds of videos—he had seen his fair share of them—but what caught him off guard was seeing *his girlfriend* watching one. He didn’t even know she followed fan edits of him. He was curious, silently watching her as she absentmindedly continued watching the video, occasionally humming along to the beat.

“Do you like it?” he asked, his voice low and playful, and Y/N’s hand stilled in his hair for a brief moment.

“Huh?” she asked, her attention pulled from the screen and back to Charles, who was now looking up at her with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“I said, do you like the edit?” Charles continued, propping himself up slightly, his face getting closer to hers. He raised a brow in amusement.

Y/N blinked in surprise, now realizing that Charles was awake. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, though she tried to hide it behind a smile. “Uh, yeah, I mean, it’s cute. They did a good job,” she said, shrugging nonchalantly. “But I didn’t know you were into seeing edits of yourself.”

Charles chuckled softly. “I’m not, really,” he said, his voice laced with amusement. “But I have to admit, it’s kind of nice to see them... especially when I’m the one featured.”

Y/N felt a little guilty, like she had been caught watching fan content behind his back, but before she could say anything, Charles grabbed her phone gently, his fingers brushing against hers. He clicked on the ‘Favorite’ button, adding the video to his collection. “I’m saving this one,” he said with a sly grin.

“You’re really adding it to your favorites?” Y/N raised an eyebrow at him, both surprised and a little entertained by his reaction.

Charles nodded, still smirking. “Of course. I didn’t know you were a fan of my edits. I might need to watch a few more myself.” He playfully tilted his head, teasing her. “I’m curious what other kinds of edits you have of me.”

Y/N's eyes widened in mock horror. “Oh no,” she laughed, holding the phone protectively against her chest. “I don’t have more—okay, maybe one or two,” she admitted with a sheepish grin, her fingers twirling a strand of Charles’ hair. “But they’re just fun. Nothing too crazy, I promise.”

Charles chuckled again, his arms shifting to pull Y/N closer, his head now resting on her chest. “I think you have a secret stash of fan edits hidden somewhere, and I plan on finding them.” He raised an eyebrow playfully, his voice teasing but soft.

Y/N shook her head with a smile, brushing a kiss against his forehead. “You’re ridiculous,” she said, laughing.

Leo, sensing the playful mood, trotted over to the couch and jumped up, curling up next to Charles' side again. Y/N absentmindedly ran her fingers through Leo’s soft fur as she let her phone fall to the side. With Charles so close to her, she was more than happy to just enjoy the moment, the warmth of the room, and the peaceful feeling of having both of them by her side.

Charles shifted slightly, resting his head against her chest. “You know,” he said softly, “I think I’ve been in love with you longer than you even realize. Even before these fan edits of me started popping up.” He looked up at her with a genuine smile, his heart swelling with affection.

Y/N smiled back, brushing her fingers gently through his hair once more. “I know. And I’ve been in love with you even longer than that.” She leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

The two of them stayed like that for a while—wrapped up in each other, their hearts full, and Leo happily curled up between them. There was something so simple and perfect about moments like these, where time slowed down, and they were free to just be themselves in the quiet of their shared home.

As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, Y/N reached over, picking up her phone once again, her fingers gently scrolling through TikTok once more. She felt Charles shift, his head lifting slightly, and she glanced down to find him watching her intently, the same smirk still lingering on his face.

“Okay,” he said, breaking the silence with a playful tone. “But I think it’s time you show me these other ‘edits’ of mine. I’m curious now.”

Y/N laughed, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll show you, but only if you promise not to tease me too much.”

“Deal,” Charles said, leaning back in her lap, as Leo snuggled even closer to him.

And just like that, the quiet afternoon continued on, filled with the simple joys of love, laughter, and a very playful Charles Leclerc.



💕💕Remember reblog helps a lot guy💕💕

[xoxoavenger]

The Devil You Forgot

pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

summary: Y/N gets captured by a group of demons with a strange pattern.

word count: 2506

warnings: canon typical injuries, low-grade torture (like punching and non-graphic knife stuff)

a new player has entered the ring. welcome to the party, Dean Winchester

masterlist

"It's almost like you don't think I can handle myself."

"You know that's not true."

"Okay, then let me go."

"Y/N,"

"Dean," Y/N took a deep breath, hoping she wouldn't hurt her boyfriend in the next couple seconds. "Babe, it's just food. I think I can pull it off." Dean breathed through his nose and pulled his lips in, and she knew this wasn't the last of their argument.

"You don't understand. These are-"

"Demons?" She cuts him off, wanting to slap him. "You mean the same creatures I've killed multiple of? By myself? Or is there a new breed that I'm unaware of?" She steps forward, and Dean takes a step back. He's been slapped by her before, he knows when he's crossed a line.

"I just want you to be safe, that's all." He says with his hands up. She rolls her eyes, grabs her Glock loaded with the demon-trap bullets she carved herself, and walks out.

"Oh man, you really handled that well." Sam says from his spot on his bed, computer in his lap. Dean lifts his head up and looked at the ceiling, wondering why his girlfriend was so hellbent on going to the diner alone. She doesn't need to, they could use this as some alone time, but no, God forbid Dean ever gets any alone time with her.

"These demons are just smart, is all. Smarter than the ones we usually fight. It'd be better to go in pairs." Dean tells his brother, who just shakes his head as he goes back to tapping away on his computer. They were trying to figure out why the demons would be here, in the middle of nowhere, Texas. So far, Sam didn't have any leads at all, but it wasn't like Dean was helping.

"She'll be fine, you know her. She's great at this stuff." Sam offhandedly said. Dean knows he's right, and that's what makes him upset.

"I know, but why would she not want me to come with?" Dean asks, shucking off his jacket and sitting on his bed. He puts his head in his hands, not sure what to do alone.

"Holy shit," Sam says, causing Dean to look over. His brother is staring at the laptop, concern etched on his face.

"What? What did you find?" Dean moves over, wanting to see the action.

"I'm comparing all the victims," Sam starts, grabbing some papers of the missing and murdered people. "I mean, we knew they were all women, but I just found this article about Fatima, and apparently her boyfriend had just asked her dad for permission."

"Permission for what?" Dean asked, and Sam almost hit him for the stupid question.

"To marry her, dumbass." Sam said, and Dean just blinks. "And when we went to the Kapnen's house, Loreli's sister said that her boyfriend was planning on proposing. Had the ring and everything."

"Fuck," Dean mutters, getting off the bed. He's in a daze as he begins to grab his jacket.

"But why are the demons taking women who are about to be engaged? How would they even know?" Sam is still looking through the town's papers online, trying to see if there was anything about the third missing woman.

"We have to find Y/N." Dean growls, emotion threatening to crawl up his throat. He's pulling it back, making sure to bottle that shit up for another time; this is something he's usually great at, but right now he's having trouble forcing the emotion down.

"What? Why? I just told you that the demons are going after women who are about to be engaged." Now Sam's the one who's about to be slapped, and he feels sick as he realizes what Dean is about to say just before he says it. His eyes go wide, even before his brother turns around. 

"Sam, Y/N is about to be engaged." Dean holds up a box he's been carrying around for approximately half a year, on the inside pocket of his jacket so Y/N couldn't feel it.

"Shit."

~

Y/N's not quite sure how the demons got the up on her, but she's now in some dingy warehouse basement with a bag over her head. She owes Dean a big apology and probably some sort of makeup-food-sex that she's been denying him for about a year.

They take the bag off and it scratches her face. Her hands are tied behind her back, her legs tied to the legs of the chair. Her mouth has also been bound, and she thinks the demons expected her to have been crying. But she stares at them angrily, blinking as they all furrow their eyebrows.

One of them slaps her, hard, and she keeps her head turned that way so they don't see the tears brimming. She will not cry in front of these demons, even if the moisture in her eyes is soley from the shock of nerves on her face.

"Feisty one, she is." One of them growls, and she smirks through the mouth binding as she turns back to them.

"Let's see if that mouth has the same attitude?" Another demon says, and she accidentally winces as they roughly rip the gag from her jaw. She cocks her head as she rights herself, wishing she could brush the hair out of her face.

"Why so quiet, honey?" Another demon smirks, grabbing her face. She looks around and realizes they're all men, which is a little weird for demons. They usually come in different genders, but she doesn't have time to think about why. She goes back to staring at the man holding her, maintaining eye contact. "What, you don't have anything to say?"

"You haven't asked me anything, dumbass." She grunts out, ripping her face from him. He just leans back as his friends seem to think that was at least a little funny, if the smiles on their faces are anything to go by.

"We don't need to ask anything, sweetheart." A demon said, and she just frowned sarcastically.

"Right, okay." She nods, laughing just to piss them all off. "Then what am I here for? Is it because you want him to come here? Because believe me, this little trap wouldn't have fooled him even when he was a teenager. So I'm gonna give you the chance to untie me and maybe he'll let you live. But even then, I honestly don't know that he will." They all stare at her, before one starts laughing and sets them all into a bought of laughter. She just blinks, not sure what they're laughing at. Is this not a trap? They have to know who Dean is, what he'll do to them.

"You stupid bitch." One of them laughs, and then he flicks a knife open. She lets her eyes widen a little bit, but besides that she doesn't move, not wanting to give anything away. She can't help the whimper that escapes when he snatches her jaw, squeezing too hard and pulling her head to the side so that her neck is exposed. The horrible thought creeps in that they're going to slit her throat, and she can't even wiggle out of these stupid cords around her wrists because her legs are still tied to metal and she would just be dead before she could take a step.

The blade slices across her collarbone, and she grits her teeth. She will not scream, she refuses to, but she lets out a grunt of pain. Her breathing is more like a wheeze through her teeth, and she doesn't even notice that they've finished slicing into her until the demon lets her head go. She lets it drop and then picks it up immediately, taking in a deep breath and looking at the other demons, forcing herself to smile.

"What're you smilin' about, darlin'?" Another one asks, and she doesn't let herself falter even as the cut burns her skin and the blood drips down her chest.

"You either want something from me, or you like playing with your food." She says. She's just stalling until Dean gets there, which should be soon knowing her boyfriend. "Which is fine, I'm not kink shaming you. But come on, it's like you don't know who I am." This earns her a hard punch to the face, one that leaves her seeing stars. She's pretty sure she blacks out for a moment, neck stretching and causing her cut to pull open more. She hisses, keeping everything else inside. She doesn't breathe until she can feel her face again, pain radiating through her eye socket and cheek bone.

"How's that for playing with food?" A demon asks, but this time before she can respond she's being hit again by another demon.

"Got a leftie. Helpful, don't ya think?" He says, and Y/N can feel the blood on her cheek as she hits the cut on her chest with her chin. She yelps, but tries to laugh it off.

Dean will be here soon. He's gotta be close.

"What's so goddamn funny?" One of them asks, and she just shakes her head as much as she can.

"He's gonna kill you." She tries to take pleasure through the pain, but someone with a bunch of fucking rings decides to hit her and she whimpers in pain. She can't scream, can't let them have it.

"Who is?" One of them chuckles - the one with the knife. She looks at the knife for only a moment before she looks back at the monster's face. "Your fiancé?" They all laugh, and she would crinkle her eyes in confusion if one weren't swollen shut.

"He isn't my fiancé," She says first, not sure why she feels the need to tell the demons of all creatures. She's about to tell them just who she's dating when they all start laughing like she said the funniest joke ever.

"Not yet, isn't that right?" One yells to the others, who continue their laughter. He turns to her, sighing and wiping his tears away. He leans against the back of Y/N's chair, knife pressing into her left cheek. She breathes in through her teeth as she tenses, feeling the knife break the skin. "You boyfriend hasn't popped the question. But he's had that damn thing for - how long did you say it was, Kaleb?" He turns back, and a demon on the side has a face red with laughter.

"Seven months!" He screams, and Y/N forgets about the pain for a moment. She looks at them all, not sure if they're telling the truth or not. She would have noticed, right? With the amount of hotels they're in and out of and the fact that they have shared a bed for years now. She would have noticed at the bunker, because they share a room, and she's sure there's not a hiding place she doesn't know of. She doesn't remember what it's like to sleep on her own, and Dean doesn't sleep in sweatpants. So where was he keeping it? If, of course, he actually had it. Because demons lie.

And it's not like she was expecting Dean to ask. She knows he wants it - the whole American Dream, Nuclear Family shit - but he hasn't talked about it, so she assumed he wasn't ready. She knew he didn't want a family while he was hunting, which may mean never, but she also knows that Dean wants to be with her forever. So yeah, she thought about it, but she didn't want to push him.

"You're lying." She chuckled, face hurting as it scrunched. "You must have the wrong man. His name is Dean Winchester, may have heard of him?" Where is he?

"Wait," The demon in front of her pauses, and she's a little confused why they're not laughing anymore. Did they actually have the wrong man? The demon turns to one other demon in particular, who looks like he's about to piss his pants. "The man you've been watching is Dean fucking Winchester?" He screams, and Y/N blinks in surprise; they actually didn't know it was Dean.

"I only knew his name, not what he looked like! How was I supposed to know that idiot was him?" The demon hissed, and they looked actually scared.

"We're dead." One of others said, a hand going to cover his mouth. "He's gonna kill us all. He's probably already here-" The demon cuts himself off as blood starts to pour from his chest, light exploding from the space. He falls to the ground, and there Dean is, looking like the righteous hand of God. Blood is splattered over his face, but he's not hurt at all.

"He said it, darlin'," Y/N laughs, even though it hurts. "You're dead."

Dean uses the knife, and just the knife, to go through each demon. Y/N can feel her skull pounding, and by the time Dean gets over to her she has her head bowed.

"I'm here, baby, I'm here." He mutters to her, immediately cutting her bindings. He sees the leg bindings and knows that they did it so she couldn't slip out. He cuts those first, then moves up.

"Dean," She whispers, still not lifting her head. When he cuts her wrists she falls forward, and he grabs her.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. Get up, baby, come on." He holds her, one hand moving to her face to lift it up. "Oh, I'm gonna summon those sons of bitches to kill them again." He mutters as he takes in her wounds. He killed them with the demon knife, so he couldn't anyway, but it's a nice sentiment.

"Do you have a ring?" She asks, hoping he understands through the mottled words she was able to gargle out around the pain.

"What?" He heard her, but he's hoping her didn't actually hear her. "Come on, let's go, sweetheart. I gotcha." He kisses her forehead and begins to help her up, and she never breaks eye contact with him.

"Dean," She grabs onto his jacket with one hand, breathing heavily. He pauses, holding her as he surveys her injuries. She's got a couple cuts, bruises across her face, and he wants to stick the knife into himself for letting her go alone. "What's this?" She smiles crookedly, holding up the box that she had snagged from his pocket. He can't help but let his jaw drop slightly, shocked she slipped one by on him.

"You should give that back so I don't have to do this in a goddamn demon lair," He tries to smirk, but his heart is racing. He can tell his hand is shaking when she hands the box back, and he puts it in his pocket quickly before he starts helping her walk out of there.

"You're not even gonna let me see it?" She whines, and he just laughs into the cool air as they walk out the door.

"Not until we have a case on the coast." He tells her, helping her into the car.

"Fuck!" She yells, half a laugh behind it. "I'm never getting married!"

//

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187  @one-sweet-gubler