#(<- yet bc who knows how far hell go to get 'him' back :))

[art4eret]

Drew this while waiting to go hiking

Theres already been one episode from everybody and im already obsessed with this smp lol

[indulgentdaydream]

Can you write something where the reader is badly injured in some way and jason rushes her to the manor for help and everybody is confused on who she is bc they didnt even know he was in a relationship (despite them being together for awhile) but they see how soft and cute he is with her. (I’ve never made a request so sorry if it got kinda rambley)

anon you’ve got me TEEMING with ideas I LOVE the trope of nobody knowing jason has a girlfriend and they find out but it is NOT by Jason’s choice nor reader’s.

Also omg? Your first ask is to lil ol me?? That means this is a special occassion. And you’re doing great I’ve def sent worse asks.

Out of the Bag

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader || Hurt and Comfort.

Word Count: 1,862

Warnings: Injuries, swearing, near death experience, blood, knife mention, stabbing, canon-typical violence, use of pet names (princess, baby), drug (pain med) use

You were sat in an alleyway, vision going in and out.

“Tell me something, princess. Anything.” Jason’s voice rang out in your ear.

That’s right. In your right hand, you held your phone, to your ear. Your other hand was pressing the fabric of your coat to the side of your stomach. The blood had soaked through, becoming sticking on your palm and fingers.

You should’ve listened to Jason. You shouldn’t have walked home alone, at night. Luckily your phone had been in your pocket and not your purse, which had been stolen from you by the same guy who decided to stab you.

“Princess,” he sounded panicked.

Right. “Wish I had kicked him harder.”

You heard a sigh of relief leave him, “That’s my girl.”

The phone slipped from your grip a little as your head swam. The sight of blood coming from your own abdomen made no help in quelling your nausea.

You fixed the phone. You had called Jason the second the guy ran off, leaving you to bleed out. He was driving, you think. Tracking your phone to try and get to you. “How far?”

He said something you didn’t hear. Your vision was swimming, your side was aching, and you couldn’t help but keep this funny understanding out of your mind that you were dying.

That this is something Jason had come back to your apartment with a few times, claiming it was nothing. It was something.

You heard him call your name, “What’s around you?”

“I’m tired,” you mumbled.

It seemed to happen in a blink of an eye. Jason was trying to tell you to stay awake, to look at the alley around you. To look out towards the street and tell him what you saw. Then he was there, standing in front of you, his helmet hiding his face.

“I’m here. I’m here, baby.” He cupped your face, tapping your cheek to get you to open up your eyes. He crouched down, pulling your hand from your side to assess the damage.

You smiled lazily and leaned forward, resting your forehead against his shoulder.

Jason muttered a slew of swears as he pressed something soft yet hard against your agonizing wound. You let out a yelp before Jason was picking you up, placing you on his bike.

He’s talking fast, “Fuck. Okay, listen to me. We’re going to go somewhere new, okay? There’s nowhere around here except there for me to get you safe.”

You passed out nearly as soon as he started the bike.

Jason’s freaking. He had tried to keep you safe from anything like this. From everything less than this. And here you were, bleeding out in his arms as he carried you through the batcave. He beelined for the cots and the medical supplies off to the side. He knows his motorcycle couldn’t have been the smoothest of rides for someone in your condition, but it’s all he had in such a short time span.

He’ll apologize when you wake up.

When. He repeats. When she wakes up and when we can get the hell out of this place again and when I can remind her I love her.

No one was back from patrol yet. He set you down on the cot before tearing off his helmet. He tossed it aside, pulling out a med bag and ripping it open. He pushed up your shirt, examining your side and where he had placed the military-grade gauze pad. He curses at the amount of blood.

His hands are shaking. Jason’s hands don’t shake, but you’ve proven to him a lot of things you could make him do that he hadn’t known he was capable of in the last year and (almost) a half of your relationship.

Jason nearly drops the suture thread before another hand is reaching out from just behind him. It catches the thread and Jason looks back over his shoulder. Alfred’s there, moving up to you.

“Allow me. You keep checking her vitals.”

Jason hadn’t even heard him come up. He’s nodding, stepping back to let Alfred take over the stitching. He moves to the other side of the bed.

That’s when he catches sight of the dark figure moving closer from behind Alfred. Jason immediately fixes him with a deadly glare, pointing at Bruce, “Do not come closer!”

Bruce stills. He’s in his bat suit, his cowl hanging behind his head, exposing his face. He looks down to your body, “Who is she?”

Jason doesn’t want him here. Rather, he doesn’t want to be here. You should’ve been home by now. Getting ready for bed and sending him a goodnight text. He turns his gaze back to you.

There’s some hair across your face that he hadn’t noticed. He moves it out of your way without a second thought, “My girlfriend.”

“Finally feel some remorse for sending someone to their grave, Todd?” Damian’s voice spoke up, walking up and stopping beside Bruce, “He’s probably trying to just reverse what he did.”

Jason ignores him. He wants to yell, scream, and maybe shoot the little bastard, but he was right. In a way, this was his fault. He didn’t look after you. He should’ve offered you a ride. Called you a taxi. An uber. Anything.

Jason grips your hand into his. It’s a way to count your heartbeat, and another way to ground himself. To reassure that you’ll be okay. His other hand stays on your cheek. His thumb gently moves back and forth, stroking your skin.

He barely registers Bruce telling Damian to go wash up. When the brat is gone, Bruce speaks up again, “What happened?”

Jason doesn’t take his eyes off of you, “She was walking home from her friend’s. A mugger got her purse, she fought back. He stabbed her.” Jason takes a deep breath, “She still had her phone. She called me. I brought her here because it was closest.”

A beat of silence. Still stitching you up, Alfred speaks, “How come we’ve never been introduced?”

Jason shakes his head, “I didn’t want her near any of this. She’s bad off enough sticking with me.”

Once you stabilize, Jason brings you up to his room in the manor. He walks past Dick, Tim, Duke, Cass, and Steph without looking at them. They sit around the batcomputer, watching Jason gently carry you out ot the cave.

He changes you out of your dirty clothes once he makes a run back to your apartment to grab you some of your own spare clothes.

Asides from that, he doesn’t leave your side.

He lets you have the bed to yourself. He pulls up a chair beside it, waiting for you to wake up. He didn’t want you to be alone when you did, in a strange place after a traumatic event. It was a recipe for disaster.

The sun’s been up for a long while and Jason hasn’t budged. He sits there, your hand gripped in both of his, held up and pressed against his mouth. His lips brush over your knuckles whenever he speaks up. Uttering a “I’m sorry.” every now and then.

There’s a light knock at the door before it’s cracking open. Jason turns his head to find Dick poking his head in. Jason glares at him.

Dick steps further in, presenting the tray he was holding. There were two glasses of water, some solid foods, and lighter ones, probably for you. Jason looked back down at you, letting his older brother enter.

“Just… figured since you’ve been cooped up in here all day,” Dick begins, setting the tray down on the beside table beside Jason.

Dick moves back around. He stands at the end of the bed, leaning against the tall bed post that was meant to hold up a canopy. “I heard…” he trails off, before nodding and your body in the bed, still unconscious, “Who is she?”

Jason looks up at his brother, not letting go of your hand, “So you haven’t heard.”

Dick rolls his eyes, “You know what I mean.”

Jason raises his brows a little. He looks back down at you. His hand reaches out to brush along your forehead, moving away imaginary stray hairs, “My girl.”

Dick nods in understanding, “How long you two been together.”

Jason pauses in thought, “Over a year. Our anniversary was in December.”

A small, choked sound comes from outside the door, in the hallway. “A year?”

Jason looks up at Dick, who makes a face that shows he’s knows he’s been caught.

“Are they seriously listening right now?”

Steph poked her head in first, an apologetic smile on her face, “We wanted to know!”

Duke pokes his head in next, just above Steph’s, “And we wanted to meet her.”

Tim’s head in next, above Duke’s, “You can’t carry a random bleeding woman into the cave and expect the family of detectives to not be curious.”

Cass’ head appears below Steph’s. She nods in agreement.

Jason let’s one hand go of yours to wave his hand through the air, “What the fuck? She’s not even awake!”

“Well that’s why we sent Dick as bait.”

“For the record,” Dick held up a finger, “They built off of my original, innocent idea of bringing you snacks.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jason stands up, taking a few steps forward. He points them all back towards the door as they start to filter into the room, “Get—“

“What’s going on…?”

Jason’s whole body whipped back around at the sound of your groggy, rough voice. The others watch as he’s back at your side in a millisecond, his whole demeanour changed. “Hey, you’re okay. Everything’s okay. Remember how I said we were going somewhere new? You thirsty, baby? Here, I got you some water.”

“Oh, you certainly did not get the water,” Dick piped up.

Jason glared back over his shoulder as he held the glass of water for you, keeping the straw Dick had added placed in your mouth.

You stopped drinking, your eyes now on the other people in the room. You turned your head, propped up against pillows Jason had put there for you. You weakly raised your left hand to wave, “Hi… oh?” your gaze turned down to your hand. A heart monitor clip sitting on your finger grabbed your attention. You gave a confused pout at it, “I feel funny.”

Jason set the water aside again. His glare was gone. He leaned in, kissing your forehead, “You’re hopped up on pain meds. That’s why, princess.”

“Damn,” Steph spoke up, “I wish I got the literal princess treatment.”

Jason turned back around, pointing out the door, “Get. Out. Leave my girlfriend alone until she’s better.”

You looked at the strangers, pointing at Jason with your left hand, “I’m his girlfriend.” Your head tilted back against the pillows as you stared up at Jason, pursing your lips, "I’m tired.”

“I know,” Jason said softly. The others began to filter out of the room as he leaned down and gave you a soft kiss, this time on the lips.

From the exit, a collective, “Awwww,” sounded out.

“Out!”

Your drugged up voice came after his, once they were all back in the hall, “Nice to meet you!”

[hazelfoureyes]

before i never really interacted with blogs(cuz anxiety and very toxic friends had my tumblr, who ive gotten rid of now) but now i literally interact with every post bc of you, you are god and i will worship you, your smut is poetic af and has my legs SHAKING(.literally.)

i am ON MY KNEES❗

also, alastor and his rivals(vox or lucifer) x reader smut? like i know alastor would be petty asf and have them watch as he fucks the living out of their beloved, im curious, do you have any ideas regarding that?(cuz your ideas are delicious and im hungry for that)

You’ve left me speechless which is quite the accomplishment, Darling. I am just a little goblin! Or like the tooth fairy, but instead of teeth I take praise and instead of money I leave filthy smut 🥺 I am so glad you removed the toxic friends and are interacting more. 💖 you deserve better and your interactions are a joy. Thank you for brightening my day! I am so far away and yet you’ve got me blushing like a fool.

oooh yes okay so! Here’s some ideas 👀

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊👑₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

Energy for me is Lucifer: Here to please. Alastor: Here to win. I imagine Luci brings you to the hotel for Charlie’s Birthday party, already having a precious casual fling once or twice before. All the guests are there, everyone is dancing and drinking and having a good time. Alastor notices how you call him Luci, how Lucifer cant keep his cool when you lean closer to him when you speak. Naturally, Alastor sees an opportunity to fuck with Lucifer so he asks for a dance. He is uncharacteristically sweet and loving, willing to do anything to get under the king of hell’s skin. He changes the music to something slow, holding you close he whispers in your ear during your dance, “How can any man maintain composure around you? I feel my manners slipping through my fingers every time you look my way.” When you leave the party to cool down, Alastor follows, finding you in an empty room trying to decompress. “Would you hate me if I kissed you? Be forewarned, once I start, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop…”

Lucifer walks in to see you absolutely melting under Alastor, lipstick smeared and face flushed. But Luci adores you, your pleasure is his pleasure and he’s compelled to stay and watch, even as Alastor makes you moan and scream his name. “Who do you belong to, sweetheart?” “Whose cock are you made for?” You’re reduced to incoherent babbling by the time Alastor is finished toying with Lucifer. Lucifer can’t take it anymore and finds himself crawling onto the bed to swallow your moans and shower you in praise.

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊🖥️₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

I can see Vox bringing his beloved personal assistant to an overlord meeting for note taking, and Alastor notices your glances to him. Vox adores you, and is always on his best behavior around you to impress you. Alastor waits for you outside of Vee Tower that night for a “chance run in”. “What luck! Allow me to buy you a drink, as a welcome to hell.” Charms you as any good southern boy could, and suggests you both go back to your office for privacy. Knowing full well Vox has cameras all over the office, Alastor fucks Vox’s assistant on his desk while maintaining eye contact with the massive collection of screens there. Vox catches sight of this while skimming through the feeds but can’t break away from the video. Alastor keeps your back to the displays while bouncing you on his cock, smirking at Vox the entire time as he leans back on his desk chair. Vox is seething and finally rushes to his office to find Alastor gone and you lying on your back, still out of breath and cum dripping onto the desk.

Vox keeps you, but gets rid of the desk. He can’t let Alastor have the satisfaction of making him lose his prized employee. For weeks after, while zoning out in board meetings, his screen flashes images of Alastor smirking from over your shoulder as you ride him. He’s entirely unaware that it’s happening and everyone is too scared to tell him.

[norrisleclercf1]

Hey, so I saw that your request were open and I was thinking if you could something for the our boy series, bcs I just love dad Lando so much. Ok, so we know that Caleb's second name is max, could u write something about that, like Max's finding out and how he reacts, or just a cute moment between the Norris family and the grid.

A/N: Okay, I knew you meant Mini Lando Series because you said the right people for that series, but yes I would love to expand on how Max reacted to finding out that Lando named his second born after him

Mini Lando Series

In the beginning you didn't tell anyone you gave birth, just wanting Aiden and the two of you to settle into a new routine. Caleb was a relatively easy baby, never really fussed and slept most of the time.

He was the perfect baby, but you knew not everyone was the same. When you started to tell people, yours and Lando's family came to visit first, after that you allowed the drivers to start visiting.

Carlos, Charles, Pierre, and Lewis all came to visit first. Carlos of course, helping the two of you with Aiden, his godson. Charles and Pierre bringing way to many gifts, and Lewis with far to many Mercedes gear for your children, something Lando promised to burn.

Yet he couldn't when Aiden became attached to a bright neon bucket hat. Lando swears he thinks, it's because Aiden believes it's one of his own bucket hats not Lewis's.

He can keep thinking that.

The one Lando was nervous about visiting is Max. He wasn't sure how the Dutch driver would react to him naming his son after him. How was he to tell Max, he did it because he always believed in him. That he was a friend, a brother to him.

Carlos rolled his eyes at the name, saying Aiden's was far much better. You didn't know which toddler was yours, Carlos or Aiden.

So when the doorbell rang, Lando bolted to the door. Opening it he sees Kelly, Penelope, and Max all with gifts for you and the baby. Kelly comes to you first, checking on you while Aiden and Penelope run off to play.

Max and Lando follow slowly behind, making small talk about the upcoming season. Lando hearing soft crying, goes to get Caleb. Max joins you and Kelly on the couch, asking you how you felt, if you ever needed Aiden to stay with them, he's more than welcome.

Walking into the room, Kelly beams seeing the tiny human in Lando's arms. It still freaks Max out that this kid, someone he watched grow up, is married with kids. Freaked him out.

Lando hands Caleb over to Kelly who just sways back and forth. Max watches, thinking the little stinker was adorable, but totally took after you. Kelly hands Caleb to Max, whose large hands engulf Caleb's little body.

He admires the little boy, but his eyes settle onto the initials on Caleb's little onesie. C.M.N

"What's his full name?" Max asks, Lando looking like a deer caught in headlights, you smile trying to muffle the laughter bubbling in your chest behind your hand. "What? Is it bad name? Lando, you can't name your kids with bad names, they'll get bullied." Max sighs, thinking it's after some video game or worse a car.

"Maxemilian." Max makes a face, looking up at Lando who takes a deep breath. "Caleb Maxemilian Norris. That's his full name." Kelly gasps, catching it instantly but Max remains oblivious.

"Maxemilian? Lando, that's a stupid name." He grumbles, looking down at the baby currently holding his finger. "That's your name, you dumbass." Kelly gently smacks Max's shoulder.

"That's not my name, my name is Max Emili- OH!" The lightbulb going off in his head leaving you and Kelly in a fit of giggles, but Lando shuffles around, Max left in a state of shock.

"You named him after me?" The question soft, the most vulnerable look every on Max's face, a mix of love and shock. "Well, yeah." Lando groans. "You've....you've always believed in me, cheered me on, supported me through everything. Hell you and Carlos even helped me buy Y/n's engagement ring. Why wouldn't I? You're family." Max hands Caleb off to you, the little boy cuddling into you, knowing it's you.

"Are you going to hit me? Just not the face." Lando squeaks, closing his eyes tight, instead Max wraps his arms around Lando. His muscles relax, hugging the Dutch driver back, the two of them saying nothing.

"If you cry, we need picture proof." You tease the men pulling apart, Max wiping his eyes quick so you don't notice. "Thank you, just...thank you." Max smiles clapping Lando on the back.

[loguetowns]

the one that (almost) got away

roronoa zoro x fem!reader

it takes him 12 hours to realize

3.6k words

a/n: ok listen, i think i started writing this like 6+ months ago and it’s just been sitting in my drafts bc idk how to commit to endings so y’all are gonna have to take this as it is. also i have no concept of how sailing works or how long it takes oops

9:00 pm

“y'know, there's really no point to a farewell party if the one leaving isn't there.”

you look up from your spot on the library floor. your eyes land on the green-haired swordsman leaning against the doorframe and you smile.

“i’ll be there in a second. i just have some more stuff to go through.”

zoro eyes the mess of books surrounding you, recognizing a few of nami’s atlases and robin’s textbooks. “you haven’t finished packing yet?”

“i’m mostly done. i’m just trying to decide which books i want to keep.” catching his eye, you joke, “why? you want me gone that bad?”

crossing the room, a scoff leaves his lips. nothing could be further from the truth.

“you got me. i am so sick of you,” he says with a grin. “can’t wait to get rid of the annoying librarian invading my napping spot.”

zoro plops down on the bench behind you, catching a whiff of your shampoo as he lies down. you sit with your back to him, sorting through your piles, but zoro can hear the smile in your voice when you speak.

“you’re such a pretender, eh?”

zoro puts on a look of overdramatic offense, a hand on his chest. “me? you’re talking about me?”

at his poor acting, you turn around. you rest your chin on the bench, your face so close to zoro’s that one could only describe it as a kissable distance.

“you act like i'm all in your space, but nami told me that you never used to spend any time in here at all!”

“pfft, why would you ever trust what that con artist has to say?” zoro pokes your forehead. “you see it with your own eyes. am i or am i not here every day?”

you purse your lips as you think back to the last few months; he’s right.

you’ve spent most of your days in the ship’s library, and zoro has almost always stopped by. in the beginning, it would be for a few minutes, but over the last little while, he’d be in here as long as you were.

zoro smiles as he watches you think, eyebrows furrowed as you replay the last few months in your head. little do you know that this is exactly why the library is his new hideout. watching your pretty little mind work — doing what you love, thinking and studying and reading — is a far better use of his spare time than anything else he could be doing.

“anyway,” he says. “i guess your silly star stories have been a good trade-off.”

now it’s your turn to be mock-offended.

“silly star stories? you’re the one who asked about the constellations in the first place!”

“only because you kept talking about these fictional gods like they actually did something important.”

“says the guy who's completely enthralled by hades,” you roll your eyes.

“king of hell, god of the underworld,” he grins. “that’s my kinda guy.”

zoro laughs when you shake your head at him. he’ll never tire of teasing you; you are far too adorable with your little sigh and a ghost of a smile on your lips.

“did you know,” he says with a playful look. “that you still owe me about ten more constellation stories? d’you think you could squeeze in one more before we head up?”

zoro smiles at you, and you can't help but smile back. 

you have so many treasured memories with zoro in this library; ones of just the two of you (him napping while you studied), ones with nami and robin (and sanji until nami kicked the boys out for their incessant bickering), and ones where the night listens in as you recite the history of the stars.

whether you were telling the story of another righteous deity enacting justice, or the tale of mere mortals who insulted the gods, zoro would listen with his eyes closed, lying across the bench as he is now, and you’d sit in front of him as you are now.

everyone’s waiting for you upstairs and you hate to disappoint, but some things are more important — like telling a silly star story to a silly swordsman.

“of course i can.”

12:00 am

raucous laughter and cheering that’s loud enough to deafen anybody; empty plates, once piled high with food, now scattered around the room; bottles on bottles of sake and rum and whiskey and every liqueur that one would hope to find on a pirate ship.

these are zoro’s requirements for a good time, and suffice to say that your farewell party has them all in spades.

zoro watches his friends’ tomfoolery from his spot at the table (currently, luffy’s trying to get franky to see how far he can slingshot him) when you plop yourself into the seat beside him.

“this,” you say as your arm knocks against his, “is the best party i’ve ever been to.”

zoro takes a swig from his glass, “you haven’t partied until you’ve partied with pirates.”

“seriously! you guys are insane!”

as if to prove your point, franky chooses that exact moment to show off a juggling sequence involving a barrel of whiskey, a giant potted plant, and a squealing chopper.

you gasp at the spectacle but quickly dissolve into laughter when nami saves chopper, and it’s with both awe and pure excitement that you turn to zoro. laughter is etched into your lips, your cheeks are flushed, and zoro can’t help but marvel at how you’re even cuter when you’re having fun.

“what, you’ve never seen a cyborg man toss a speaking reindeer in the air before?”

you nudge him with your elbow, “well, excuse me for leading such a mundane life where animals don’t speak and men don’t tinker with their bodies.”

“ah, but that’s where you’re wrong.”

you look at zoro quizically.

he takes a sip of his beer, “most men do tinker with their bodies.”

it takes you a moment to catch his innuendo and zoro roars with laughter when the realization hits you. embarrassment tinges your pretty face and you shove him with a loud “ew, zoro!” but he can’t stop cackling.

“you’re disgusting!”

you make to swat zoro across the chest but he quickly catches your hand. he leans in to waggle his eyebrows at you, “but i’m not wrong, am i?”

you groan loudly, which only makes him laugh again.

perhaps it’s the alcohol that let his inhibitions go, or maybe it’s the fact that he doesn’t have much longer with you, but when you hastily change the subject and there’s no longer a reason for him to still be holding your hand, he doesn’t let go.

when nami joins you two, his fingers slips between yours and to his surprise, yours do the same. sanji joins your threesome, then franky and robin, and in no time at all, it’s no longer just the two of you at the table.

but zoro doesn’t care.

drunk, carefree, and more content than he’s ever been, zoro closes his eyes and smiles. he lives in the moment, and in this moment, he’s happy — happy with a full stomach and a full glass, happy to be surrounded by his favourite people, and happy that, under the table, you’re still holding his hand.

3:00 am

“and what’s that one?”

hands swinging between you, you and zoro dodge the tide as you roam further and further from the thousand sunny. the sand is cool under your feet and the tide kisses your toes with each step. your other arm is stretched above you, pointing at a constellation in the distance.

“what is this - a pop quiz?”

you smile, “i want to make sure you don’t forget about my ‘silly star stories.’”

zoro groans, “has anyone told you that holding grudges isn’t healthy? keeping going and you’ll turn into a bitter old thing some day.”

you stick out your tongue, “you’re just afraid you’ll get it wrong.”

“wrong?” zoro scoffs. “i’ve gotten the past six right.”

walking along the beach, you and zoro fall in step with each other and your footsteps match the ebbing waves in perfect rhythm. you smile in his direction and his chest is flooded with a warmth that has nothing to do with the copious amounts of alcohol he’s consumed.

“alright, let’s see what we got here.”

zoro follows your gaze at the cluster of stars you’ve chosen, and he grins when he sees the constellation. “really? at least try to make this hard for me, please.”

his cocky attitude leaves you speechless, making zoro laugh. 

“you’re so annoying!” you shove him with your free hand and the force of his stumble pulls you along, and you shriek as he drags you into the ocean with him. he doesn’t let go of you, not even for a second — not when water splashes your legs, not when zoro’s pants get soaked as he spins you around. 

your laughter is warmth in its purest form, the kind that you can feel all the way down to your cold toes. when he sets you back down, you give his hand a little squeeze, to which zoro answers back with a tender smile.

now with wet feet and a distance between you that’s even smaller than it already was, zoro continues to walk alongside you.

“moving on from your pathetic distraction attempt,” — you let out a dramatic gasp — “i’ll tell you exactly who we were looking at.”

pointing at the starry zodiac sign, zoro speaks with complete confidence.

“virgo the maiden, otherwise known as persephone, wife and muse of the best god of them all, hades—”

“fanboy much?” you tease but zoro pretends not to hear you (the little tug of his lips tells you that he does).

“—who snuck her a pomegranate seed because he couldn’t bear for her to leave him.”

zoro puffs his chest with pride, relishing in this one niche study of which he is now an expert. it’s incredibly endearing how pleased he is with his answer and you almost feel bad for correcting him.

almost.

“good answer,” you grin. “but you left out the little detail about how she was kept in hell against her will.”

zoro gasps, “are you accusing my idol of being a kidnapper?”

“your idol!” your cheeks already hurt so much from smiling but another giggle slips out. “first of all, these aren’t my accusations. historians have told their love story this way for years—”

“slander is what this is.”

“—and secondly, why would you want to look up to hades? he’s literally the antagonist in every story.”

“he’s the king of hell! that’s so bad ass.” zoro winks at you, “don’t be surprised if you hear them calling me ‘zoro, king of hell’ some day.”

“what’s wrong, demon of east blue doesn’t go hard enough for you?”

embarrassment rushes to zoro’s face and he’s never been more grateful for the night. “who told you that? was it usopp or nami? i bet it was nami.”

“i might hold a grudge but i don’t snitch,” you flash a mischievous smile. “anyway, let’s get back to how you want to be just like devil who tricked a poor girl in returning to the underworld.”

“come on, can you blame a man for doing whatever it takes to stop his beloved from leaving him?”

it sounds like an innocent question — harmless banter, really — but something in the way he says it makes you stop dead in your tracks. a silence falls and in its wake, all you can do is stare at the man you’ve spent the last several months with, the same man that you have to say goodbye to tomorrow.

moonlight falls unto the both of you and bathes zoro in soft light. it illuminates his eyes and when you meet his gaze, you see a sense of longing there that you feel in your chest. a longing for what, you don’t know — or rather, you don’t want to know.

at least, not yet.

so you hold his hand a little tighter, and underneath the watchful eye of the gods and constellations, muster a smile,

“i guess not.”

6:00 am

if this was any other morning, zoro would be awake and working out already. he'd be done his fourth set of bicep curls or, at the very least, working on his form. he could even be in the middle of deadlifts (because he knows not to skip leg day), but he definitely wouldn't still be in bed the way that he is right now.

the thing is though, if this was any other morning, he wouldn't have you sleeping next to him, curled into him like you were made to be a perfect fit.

he's never been more glad to still be in bed.

your breath matches the rise and fall of zoro's chest, perfectly in rhythm with the waves outside his window and the beat of his heart, like the universe meant for all these things to be in harmony at this one singular moment in time.

your lashes flutter in response when he shifts his weight.

he takes a peek at you, “psst, are you awake?”

eyes still closed, you manage a noncommittal grunt but your body says otherwise.

zoro can’t help but smile as he watches you start to wake up. your toes wiggle beneath the covers and you rub your eyes before looking up at him with an adorably sleepy look that he would love to wake up to every day. 

if only he could.

you focus your gaze on zoro like he’s an anchor in a sea of slumber. the way that you look at him, as if he’s the only thing that you see, fills his chest with a golden warmth akin to the breaking dawn.

you offer him a soft smile, and zoro wonders if the sun knows that you glow brighter than it ever could.

“why are you up at this ungodly hour?”

he chuckles, low and tender, “’m used to it. i’m usually up by now.”

“freak,” you mutter. zoro laughs, and you can’t think of anything else that sounds more beautiful at six in the morning.

you’re not usually up this early but what you notice is that, at dawn, time has a habit of moving slowly. it’s as if the morning casts magic upon those who rise with the daylight — and you’re so thankful for that.

because if time moved any faster than this, you’d have to say goodbye that much sooner.

“are you going to miss us?” zoro puts his arms around you.

you murmur into his chest, “of course, i will.”

“who do you think you’ll miss the most?” 

you give pause and zoro’s almost certain you can hear his heart beating a little louder — he can definitely hear it. he doesn’t typically get nervous like this but, then again, nothing about the way you make him feel is typical.

you seem to have come to a conclusion because you look up at zoro and he holds his breath. 

“sanji.”

he blinks.

“wait, are you serious?”

you’ve never seen zoro looks so wonderfully scandalized before, and you burst into a fit of giggles. as soon as you start, he knows he’s been had. he scowls but only for a moment; for who could be upset in the presence of such twinkling laughter?

 “silly man,” you snuggle closer, "of course i’m not serious.”

“okay, good.” you can hear the smile in his voice. “i don’t know if my ego could handle losing to him.”

zoro holds you close, his thumb tracing circles on your skin. his movements are slow, steady, comforting — ‘round and ‘round, in the same spot, like he’s drawing an invisible mark that is only known to the two of you.

"but, you know,” you hum, careful not to disrupt the peace. “you wouldn’t.”

“wouldn’t what?”

“lose.” and after a beat, you quietly add, “you wouldn’t lose to anyone.”

and just like that, zoro’s on cloud nine, airborne and weightless. he’s always known that he has a place in your heart, but this is the first time that you’ve ever hinted about where that place may be. if he allowed himself to be hopeful, it almost sounds like a confession. 

but almost isn’t good enough for him. zoro wants more — wants to find out exactly where he belongs in your life, wants to know if he can make himself at home there. 

it’s a shame that he’s out of time.

you interrupt his thoughts with a whisper, barely audible above the sound of the ocean and his aching heart,

“will you miss me?” 

more than anything.

9:00 am

surely, zoro’s dream to be hades has been granted. otherwise, why would it feel like he’s in hell, standing on the deck, all alone and watching your dinghy sail away from the thousand sunny?

zoro’s had his fair shares of farewells while aboard the ship, and to be honest, yours wasn’t any more emotional than anyone else’s. you left with a smile as beautiful as the morning sun and with far less tears than he expected (which he’s thankful for because he would hate to see you cry). as far as bittersweet goodbyes go, yours was definitely more sweet than bitter.

and yet, here zoro stands, with a bad taste in his mouth that he can’t explain. he can still see you from where he stands, and watching your little boat in the distance is the only thing that seems to settle his uneasy heart. 

should he have bid adieu privately? maybe he should’ve left you with a memento of some kind? should he have done more than offer you a quick hug? was it his imagination, or did you hold onto him just a beat longer than you needed to?

zoro’s so occupied by these messy thoughts that he doesn’t even hear sanji approach him.

“well?”

startled, zoro can only stare at the blond cook. ignoring the dumb look on his face, sanji continues.

“what’d she say when you told her?” sanji nods in the direction of your boat.

“told her what?”

“that you love her,” sanji takes a drag of his cigarette, looking at zoro directly now.

he speaks so frankly, so matter-of-fact and candidly, that it takes zoro a second to really register what it is that he’s saying. 

he loves you.

and as soon as he thinks it, the truth comes barreling through all the doubts clouding his head. clarity floods his chest as he comes face-to-face with what his yearning, pining heart has been trying to tell him this whole time.

he loves you. he loves you. he loves you. he loves you. he loves you-

fuck.

he loves you.

and he never told you.

epilogue — 9:30 am

sails closed, your boat floats with the current and the salty breeze reminds you that your adventure with the strawhats has come to a close. compared to the never-ending bustle of the crew, it’s almost too quiet being at sea alone. the silence lends itself to your overactive mind, working full time to unravel the tightness you feel in your chest.

you’re lost in thoughts of what could’ve, should’ve, and would’ve been — so much so that you don’t even hear the commotion behind you. it’s not until you hear zoro call your name that you hear the frantic swimming and you whirl around.

“zoro! what-”

“can you help me first?” he splutters.

you pull yourself together long enough to run to the side of your dinghy, pulling a sopping wet pirate on board. zoro leans back, trying to catch his breath as you rummage through your things.

“are you crazy? do you know how far we are from the sunny?” you throw a towel over him before reaching for another. you start drying off his hair, frantically fussing over him.

“you think that just because chopper gives you the clearance that you can push yourself over the limit-”

“y/n.”

“this is why you’re always on house arrest! you’re actually insane, you know that?”

“y/n.”

“i know you work out, but for goodness’ sake, zoro, you’re only human-”

“y/n.” zoro holds your wrists, forcing you to stop with a start.

in all your worrying, you didn’t realize that you’d been gravitating closer to zoro until you’re staring into his dark, obsidian eyes. there’s clarity in the way that he looks at you. his eyes are shining with a fierceness that you’ve only seen in his worst fights, and you brace yourself for whatever comes next.

because you know that this will change everything.

“hades and persephone.”

“huh?“ you blink at him. “did you hit your head-”

“ask me if i think hades loved persephone.”

you stare into zoro’s eyes, desperation reflecting back at you. there’s a hidden question there and you understand immediately.

quietly, you ask, "do you think hades loved persephone?”

“i do,” he whispers. “i think he loved her and he would've been stupid to let her go.”

your breath catches. zoro places a hand over yours, surprisingly warm as his fingers find their home between your own.

the heavens watch on as the two of you finally open your hearts and give way to the stuff that myths and legends yearn for — a connection that can only be described as fated, destined, purely and resplendently magical.

the gods smile at the two lovers who find themselves falling into each other, laughing as you confess, over and over again,

i love you.

[t0rturedangel]

╭ . . . 𝚆𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚕 ੭

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐖𝐎 ; ♰ ৎ﹕𝘦𝘹𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘢 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘶𝘮

TUMBLR DECIDED TO FUCK ME SO HARD BC IT CRASHED AND I LOST ALL OF MY ORIGNAL WORK. AUGHRRRRRRRR I'M GOING TO SCREAM SO HARD.

but here is scene two as promised my lovlies, I'm sorry that it's short

➷ ＰＲＥＶＩＯＵＳ ＳＣＥＮＥ | ＮＥＸＴ ＳＣＥＮＥ

With her fall,

the cherubim went mad,

with sorrow and hate

she now sat on jagged rocks

     You glared at the sky, or whatever it was above you- the bottom side of heaven? whatever it was, this place was not the earth the angels created nor was it the hell your Lucifer was dammed to but there is one thing for sure- you fucking hated this shithole. There was no life here (no life that was thriving, all the nature that could have been here is now reduced to rotten carcasses of what they used to be), just barren land with not a single soul in sight- besides yours of course though your soul was practically torn to shreds. 

     For endless days of your damned punishment you'd scream at the top of your lungs, begging heaven for it's forgiveness, to be let back in- making empty promises of never betraying them again. You'd sob into your hands when your voice finally gave up, your tears felt unusually acidic and whenever you did cry a weird feeling over came your senses, almost as if you had to get your hands on whatever moved- just as long as it didn't watch you. Eventually, when your crying sessions would end, you'd make an attempt to fly to heaven though their skies, those clouds you'd always rest on, the clouds you and Lucifer would fly through in utter glee were now so far to reach, no matter how fast and strong you flew. For hours, you'd manage to make your wings fly and then- they'd give up, your feathers simply gave up just as much as you did then once again you'd plunge down into the mossy yet rocky ground.

     ˓˓ HEAVEN! ʾʾ you screamed out as you fell ˓˓ HEAVEN FORGIVE ME! I BEG YOU! ʾʾ though as always your words were never heard, you were sure they could hear you- at least even some of them, perhaps St. Peter?... yeah you heard of him, you heard of his arrival- from who or where you cannot remember but you knew he was now by the gates of heaven allowing good moral souls to enter- GOD FUCKING DAMN IT YOU ARE MEANT TO BE WITH THEM! those shitbags dont care about anyone but them, they're selfish little fucks who only want to see the good- never the bad! Cant they open their fucking eyes to see that they aren't perfect?! 

     Sharp rocks dug into your back as you landed on them for the umpteenth time for that day, or week, or month- you didn't know any more, time was a concept you lost the knowledge to a while go, as much as other things. Your old social behavior was sure to have faltered, gone wrong, your mind had probably twisted into something horrific. That Cherub that once thrived is now dead, in her wake a new angel- a weeper angel now takes her place.

Now with heaven's ignorance and silence

the weeper lost hope for salvation,

and then she turned to the ground beneath her feet

     Out of sheer anger of the lack of reply from the heavenly skies, you kicked yet another rock out of your way- while flying from where it once stood the rock broke into several pieces. It's been so long. So long of you begging and pleading with heaven for one more chance and they have done nothing but ignore you, you'd tried so many times to reach out to them you flew for hours- screamed for days- wept so loud you were sure all three worlds could hear you crystal clear. ˓˓ GOD DAMNIT ʾʾ kicking more things you looked above you ˓˓ CAELO TE DAMNO! TE ANGELOS PATHETICUS OMNES ʾʾ 〔 DAMN YOU HEAVEN! DAMN ALL YOU PATHETIC ANGELS 〕 if heaven will not answer your calls, then you'll turn to hell. While yes, you saw Heaven as a choice first it was mainly because you could not bare to see Lucifer again, after you failed to keep his place in heaven he would surely hate you, he's want you to suffer but seeing as even heaven will not take you- Hell was your only chance of escapism, but how would you get there? Would you be able to stomp onto the ground with such power that the ground would crack and open up?

     Perhaps not, after all what if you end up on the earth's land- with humans, eugh, the thought of them makes your stomach twist, full of virtue or full of vice they were disgusting mortals- your presence would send them into insanity, they'd all go mad and kill one another and plus they were dirty, vile creatures- you felt that if you even saw one, they'd end up dead by your hands. Something was wrong with you, you never thought that way before. It was this isolation that was breaking your mind, you needed to get out and fast.

     again, but how? There was no way you were willing to break the ground, and the only other way to even get there was through the extermination- yes this was another thing you were aware of, after all Angels needed to pass through your current home to get to hell, so maybe just maybe while they're flying through the portal you'd be able to sneak in too. There was only one problem, you dont know where the portal appears, it never appears in the same place and whenever it does appear you're too far away.

     But, it was your only chance and you had to take it, or else you'd go truly mad, turn into a beast and kill anyone and anything you set your glossed over eyes on. Now the waiting game begins, though it wont take long at all- the last extermination was 350 days ago, you counted. Only 15 days left until you could be free from this torture.

     Forget heaven, forget it all- now hell is your new destination.

     ＷＡＩＴ ＦＯＲ ＭＥ ＨＥＬＬ

𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 ⠆(want to be reminded when I post a new chapter? Lmk!) ⸺ @reverse-soe @jellibean2018 @aliazy @sugarrush-blush @littledolly2345 @immahuman @marsilis @c0sm1cstqrsx @redqueeen99 @persephosposts

[hotchswifey]

insomnia - dean winchester x reader

(this is the first thing i have written in about 2 years 😭😭😭😭

it kinda sucks but i like it

warnings: insomnia (i am aware that any sleep disorders cannot be cured by another person and i do not mean to take away from people who suffer from these conditions, this was just a cute little idea i had), a little angst?? (just about how much deans life sucks.), fluff, cuddling, overthinking, thinking badly about yourself (ur thoughts can be mean but ur lovely and brilliant <3333)

also i have a hc that dean goes really silent when he's tired, except he can't go silent around most people bc then they start to think something is really wrong™, but actually he is just too exhausted to try to talk (self-projection? maybe.)

word count: 2373)

---------------------------------------------------

You rubbed at your tired eyes, walking into the bunker’s kitchen, your eyes adjusting to the light that definitely shouldn’t have been on - considering it was 3.32am. Your eyes fell on Dean, who was hunched over the island counter eating cereal. ‘Should’ve figured it was him who couldn’t sleep, too’, you thought. As bad as your sleeping habits had gotten, you always marvelled at Dean’s capability to be a functioning human with so little sleep.

He had noticed you as soon as you stepped foot in the room, but he did nothing to acknowledge your presence. Figures. You reasoned that the poor guy’s probably slept twice in the last week. You didn’t address him either; whether it was sleep deprivation or knowing he wanted to be left alone, you didn’t know. You just went to grab yourself a bowl of cereal. 

It was quiet (except for the sound of pouring milk and Dean’s chewing), but it was comfortable. It gave you some peace knowing you weren’t the only one who couldn’t sleep - something so simple yet far out of your reach. You didn’t know when it happened (your inability to sleep), but ‘it comes with the life,’ you supposed. You grabbed your bowl and left Dean to ponder on his own.

---------------------------------------------------

You rubbed at your tired eyes again. The same routine - lay in bed for hours, eventually get up because you’re hungry, head to the kitchen and find the light on. Again and again, this happened - Dean always sat there. It had become a funny thing kind of (in an unhealthy, oh-my-god-i-just-want-to-sleep-but-i-guess-it’s-nice-to-see-dean type of way). 

He didn’t acknowledge you, you didn’t acknowledge him, you poured your cereal to the sound of Dean chewing and went back to your room to eat. You wished he would invite you to sit down, even if you both ate silently. It was nice not to be alone at night, overthinking every gruesome and terrible thing to come. But you knew it was Dean, and he definitely needed some peace, quiet, and alone time (and this was the most alone time he willingly gave himself). 

You ate back in your room, not sleeping for yet another night.

---------------------------------------------------

You and the boys had just got back from a vamp hunt. Sore, tired and, frankly, pissed off. The hunt was fine, you all supposed. But, god, it takes a lot to completely decapitate somebody. Your energy was all drained, and the only thing you wanted to do was sleep - but could you? No. Of course, you couldn’t. Why? A thunderstorm? Fireworks? Gunshots? No. Because your brain hates you. God forbid you get an ounce of sleep.

Your routine ensued again, more sluggish this time and certainly more pissed. All you wanted to do was behead a few vamps and sleep it off, but no. Of course not. Try to sleep, fail to sleep, get up and haul your ass to the kitchen, pour cereal, eat cereal. How did your life become so dull?

The lights are on again. You think, ‘There is no way in all hell Dean is awake. That boy put himself through more physical torment you could ever even dream of (not that you’d want to)’. You weren’t too shocked when, even after today, you saw Dean sitting there.

It wasn’t a surprise that Dean Winchester (saviour of the world, the perfect killer) was still awake, even after killing eight vamps single-handedly (but from how he was sitting, you were sure he’d hurt his back on the hunt). Dean. Again. In the kitchen. Not sleeping.

You didn’t know why, but it pissed you off more than it should have. 

“Why are you still up?” You asked, walking past the island to the cereal cupboard. No response. Of course. You rolled your eyes, fishing out the box of lucky charms you reserved for awful days. You caught Dean’s eye as you turned around to get a bowl. 

He might’ve been the strongest man you knew physically and mentally, but he looked so tired. More tired than you had ever seen him. More tired now than after ending the apocalypse or returning from purgatory. How could he look so exhausted after one vamp hunt? You thought about it for a second, only now realising how many times you had gotten up and he had been in the kitchen. Every time you got up, he was in the kitchen. What are the chances that when you can’t sleep, neither can he? Or was it more likely he wasn’t sleeping at all?

If you were being truthful, the strongest man you knew looked like hell. He looked like a little boy who couldn’t sleep because he had a nightmare and wanted his mom. Except he wasn’t a little boy, he was living through the nightmare and had no one to turn to when things got bad.

You had felt pity for Dean before (how could you not, the man has quite literally been to hell and back), but this was a different kind of pity. This was the kind of pity that only came when things were terrible. When you realise this was how it had to be, how it would be, forever. The kind of pity that came when you realised you couldn’t do anything about it. You felt useless looking at him in his dressing gown, hunched over the counter.

He was the world’s saviour, and you had to assume that came with consequences - like not sleeping.

You didn’t say anything. Your anger had dissipated into sadness - sadness for being unable to help your friend. There was nothing you could say or do. There was nothing at all. You stared at him, and he stared back, and that was it. You went about your night - pour the cereal, return to your room, and not sleep.

---------------------------------------------------

Another day. Another hunt. Another sleepless night.

You considered buying the strongest sleeping pills and calling it a day. But you knew you couldn’t. Dean would haul your ass out for another hunt tomorrow, and he’d be pissed if you were fast asleep.

‘He should take some sleeping pills’, you thought. Maybe he would actually be remotely okay then.

Not fall asleep, get up, walk to the kitchen, see Dean, not acknowledge each other, get your cereal and leave. Again and again. You may have liked it, though. Just that little bit of routine in your hectic lives. Even if it was a bad routine.

You poured your cereal, your back to Dean, in complete silence. It was nice. Comfortable.

You picked up your spoon, ready to head back to bed, and turned around to find Dean already looking at you. You paused on the spot, unsure as to why he was staring. He didn’t stop when you noticed him. He looked as tired as ever. The sight of him, looking exhausted, with a bowl of cereal and beer, was heartbreaking. It physically hurts to look at.

He looked at you, and you looked back. Silent. Again. You wish you knew what to say, but what could you say? ‘Hey, Dean. You look like shit.’ You were sure you looked just as bad.

The sudden eye contact didn’t end. You both are not blinking, not moving, simply just looking. It was like you were communicating telepathically, just understanding each other and the hell you were both going through. This life was bad enough with sleep.

He didn’t say anything when you moved to sit down next to him, he didn’t say anything when you began to eat your (soggy) cereal, and he didn’t say anything when you finished eating. He just drank his beer and ate his cereal wordlessly. He said nothing when you sat there for 5… 10… 15… 20 minutes. Not one word.

You wanted to know what was going on in his head so badly. You wanted to know how you could help if you could help. But Dean doesn’t share his problems. You knew that, Sam knew that Cas knew that- everybody in the damn world knew that.

You sat and sat and sat silently. Half an hour passed, then an hour, then two… before you knew it, Sam was walking in- tired and grumpy. The sun had risen (not that you could see it), and a new day had started.

“You look like shit, dude”, Dean said to Sam, who promptly rolled his eyes.

---------------------------------------------------

This time, when you couldn’t sleep, you didn’t go to the kitchen. You just laid there. Unmoving. You’re sleep-deprived mind was overthinking everything- what if you fucked up on that hunt 3 years ago, and Sam and Dean still hate you to this day? What if Sam hates you? What if Dean hates you? What if Dean is so fucking sick of you interrupting his nightly cereal time? You were a victim of your mind- your thoughts and inability to sleep. 

Ugh. You were so hungry. But, right now, your brain was convincing you you were single-handedly Dean’s biggest annoyance right now (if Dean could read your thoughts right now, he would be calling you his biggest idiot).

A knock on your door startled you more than it should’ve (considering you had been hunting for quite a while at this point).

A knock. At (you looked over to your alarm clock) 3:34am. ‘Why is Sam awake at this time? Why’s he knocking on my door?’ you thought. ‘It can’t be Dean. I’ve done nothing but piss him off for the last month. You squint your eyes preemptively as you reach over to turn on the lamp by your bed and get up. The floor was cold under your feet, and your body was exhausted from the lack of sleep. You reached towards the doorknob, preparing to see Sam. 

Sam. Who was definitely not at the door. Because Dean was standing there, in boxers and a white t-shirt, holding 2 bowls of cereal, looking as tired as you felt. Huh.

He looked at you silently, extending one bowl towards yourself. You took it hesitantly, staring at him, confused. He didn’t react. He didn’t say a word. Just lifted his bowl to eat his cereal. You moved to give Dean the option to come in. It was like a silent agreement had happened between you. Cereal and silence.

He walked in and sat on your bed; you closed your door and joined him. Wordless. Silent.

Maybe, you weren’t annoying him. Perhaps, he enjoyed this as much as you did. Maybe. Maybe.

Ten minutes passed, and you finished your cereal and leaned over to put it on the mahogany desk. ‘The Men of Letters enjoyed a frivolous life, huh. Who needs a mahogany desk?’ You thought, trying to distract yourself from your overactive mind. Dean moved over to do the same, leaning into you whilst he did. 

He didn’t seem to lean away from you after that. He didn’t seem to move at all. He just sat close as you both stared at the wall, unblinking. God, you were tired. You just wanted to sleep. You felt like your body was going to shut down any day now.

“You should get some sleep,” Dean’s groggy voice came out of nowhere. It surprised you, him actually talking. 

“Yeah, I’m trying,” you replied. Hell, you were trying. You were trying so hard, you just needed to-. Dean moved before you could finish your thought, standing up and moving to the top of the bed, pulling back the dishevelled sheets. He laid down in the bed, propping his head onto his hands.

“Are you just going to stand there?”

You moved to join him in the tiny twin bed. He pulled back the covers to let you in. You weren’t too sure what to do with yourself, then. You sat there with your knees to your chin, shoulders hunched. He had invited himself into your bed, and you felt like you were invading HIS space. Why were you still overthinking this? Why were you still thinking he didn’t want you here? Obviously, he did! 

His arm wrapped around your shoulders before you could think anymore. You looked over at him, his green eyes reflective in the lamplight, and he looked back at you. Wordless. You gave him a small smile and moved to lie down. He joined you, his arm still wrapped around your shoulder. You debated whether you should lean against his chest but decided not to overthink it and just do it. You were sick of overthinking every little thing.

His other arm wrapped around your waist, yours wrapped around his. This was good. He was good. Nothing was exchanged between you; there wasn’t a need for words. You both knew this was what you two needed- each other. Dean had never really been alone (whether it was Sam, Cas, or Benny), and he needed somebody there to remind him that everything was okay. You were okay- sleep-deprived and needing a new career, but okay. 

Your eyes were shutting before you could help it. Dean’s steady heartbeat in your ear and arms around your body calmed you. It was almost funny how quickly you were falling asleep now. Months and months of sleepless nights, and all it took was Dean to be here, holding you. You wished you could enjoy it more (not knowing if this would happen again), but you were so goddamn tired. 

---------------------------------------------------

You awoke the following day to repeated knocks on your door and Sam’s voice shouting your name. Damnit Sam. He opened your door before you even had the chance to fully wake up.

“Have you seen Dea- oh.”

The man in question was fast asleep, his arms still wrapped around you, your legs tangled together. You looked towards Sam as he mouthed a quick ‘sorry’ and left hurriedly. You were surprised it didn’t wake Dean. A pin drop could wake him up. You looked over at him, admiring how peaceful he looked. It was simple. Simple and nice and sort of domestic. Or as domestic as a hunter’s life can be.

You leaned against his chest, his arms tightening around you, falling back asleep.

You two had a different routine from then on- if either couldn’t sleep, you would find each other.

[tightjeansjavi]

Slow Hands | Joel Miller x f! reader

Chapter 1 “Cuppa Love”

A/N: I breezed through this chapter in a matter of hours 🫠 I’m so beyond stoked for this little story and I hope it can end up providing all the soft Joel feels that we love ♡

~word count: 3.5k~

Summary: Joel Miller thinks that your coffee shop in Jackson is a bit too “frivolous” for his taste until Tommy tells him one day that it’s the best cup of coffee that he’ll ever have. Little does he know..he’s going to get more than just a cup of coffee when he finally meets you. You soon find out that the grumpy old man with a rambunctious teenager, is hiding sugar sweet softness under layers of hardness.

Warnings: some angst, Joel is struggling to adjust to living a domestic life, anxiety, feeling like an outcast, grumpy old man! Joel, shy! Joel, kinda mean! Joel, sunshine reader, flirting, fluff, awkward situations, reminiscing on the past, alluding to death/loss but no description, reader has no physical descriptions and is from Texas, reader has a nickname (beanie bc y’know coffee beans) no age gap, overall light chapter, vulgar language, +18 minors dni!

Joel Miller in your eyes was aloof, a tad bit on the grumpier side, never really smiling, always with a furrowed brow and a grunt under his breath. He was an old, grumpy man as Tommy Miller first described his older brother to you. That was the first time Joel Miller and his adopted kid, Ellie Williams rode into town one snowy afternoon.

You watched curiously from your coffee shop window at the sight of Tommy hugging his brother for his first time in years. It was a sight for sore eyes to say the least. By the time you gathered enough courage to introduce yourself, it was too late. Joel and Ellie were gone by the morning and you had missed your opportunity..or so you thought.

The following spring, Joel and Ellie had returned. From where? Well..that wasn’t disclosed to you. From spring to fall you’d catch Joel walking past your coffee shop every morning. His eyes would flit up to the old sign that swung calmly in a passing breeze. He’d shake his head, mutter under his breath before continuing down the street. You’d secretly hoped that he would stop in for a cup of coffee one of these days. Why? Well, you were curious. Curious about the old grumpy man that rarely shed a smile. You were curious on how he possibly took his coffee. (straight black) you imagined. No cream, or sugar as it didn’t seem like his cup of tea.

Presently, Joel was having a hard time adjusting to his new life. For over 20 years he was constantly living on the means to survive. There was no room for comfort or the little things in a post apocalyptic world; or so he had thought. Ellie was having a much smoother transition period into the domestic lifestyle. She was attending school now, working at the stables and she was making friends. Joel was happy for her, of course. After everything they had gone through together all he wanted was for his kid to be happy. Confusion would etch across his face anytime someone in town would smile in his direction or dare to even say good morning to him? He’d grunt out a goodmorning back followed by a painful forced smile.

Your little coffee shop in the middle of town absolutely plagued him. He’d walk by it every morning muttering under his breath about how frivolous your sign was. Cuppa Love how fucking cheesy was that? Not to mention, the sign above your shop had seen far better days, and the chipped wood, and peeling paint was grinding his gears to a painful level. Yet, despite the fresh and familiar scent of roasting coffee beans wafting through the cracked door, it was not enough to persuade him to take a peek inside.

Not yet at least.

“Have you met Beanie?” Tommy asked his brother in a casual conversation as they were riding back into town after being on patrol all morning.

“Who? N’What in the hell kinda name is that?” Joel gruffly asked as he looked over at his brother.

“She owns the ‘lil coffee shop tucked in the middle of town. She’s been here a few years, makes one mean cuppa joe. Honestly the best I’ve ever had since..well, you know.” He trailed off.

“That frivolous waste of space? Yeah, I walk past it every mornin.’ Doubt it’s the best cup of coffee you’ve ever had, Tommy. So, her name is Beanie? S’that like her nickname or somethin’?”

“It ain’t a waste of space! C’mon now. You gotta lighten up a little big brother. You don’t gotta be so up-tight all the goddamn time. How many times do I gotta say that you’n Ellie are safe. Y’know, I’ve had plenty of people come to me and say that you don’t even bother sayin’ goodmornin’ to them or nothin.’ There’s good people in this town, Joel. You can make friends if you—”

Joel cut him off with a low scoff under his breath. “Lighten up? I already told you, Tommy. It’s hard for me to go and adjust to..how I used to live because it ain’t even been all that long, and I still sleep with a goddamn shotgun under my bed, for Christ sakes. Sorry that your town folks don’t like the fact that I ain’t sayin’ goodmornin’ back. Didn’t realize it was such a crime.” He muttered the last bit with a heavy sigh.

Tommy reached his hand over and gently grasped his brother's shoulder, giving it a firm yet gentle squeeze. “Joel, I’m sorry if it’s comin’ across like I’m lecturin’ you or anythin’, it’s jus’ that I want you to feel comfortable n’happy here. I know that you and Ellie went through a lot, but there’s so many opportunities for you to start off fresh here, okay? Look, you don’t gotta go if you don’t want to, but just stop by Beanie’s shop and have a cup of coffee. I promise that you won’t regret it, and have I ever been wrong?”

Joel begrudgingly looked in his brother's direction. His brows furrowed, then softened as a sigh slipped past his parted lips. “I know you ain’t lecturin’ me. It’s just—it’s hard, Tommy. It’s hard tryin’ to jump into havin’ a normal life again. Ellie’s doin’ a hell of a lot better job than I am. Also think she may be avoidin’ me, but that’s a topic for another conversation. I guess there isn’t much harm n’me goin’ to this coffee shop. Can’t promise that I’m gonna like it.” His tone was softer now, nearly above a whisper because these were the genre of conversations that he dreaded having. Anything that had to do with feelings and emotions, Joel avoided like they were the plague. He had a hard enough time expressing himself as it is.

“I get it, Joel. Believe me. It took me months to not wake up on edge, to sleep without a rifle under my pillow. Maria was a big help of course, but I had to do a lot of growin’ on my own too. Baby steps, alright? You got me, Maria, and Ellie to help guide ya through this next chapter. You’re still my big brother after all.” He replied with a genuine smile smile on his face, one that had his eyes crinkle in the corners.

Joel found himself gently dropping his horse's reins around the withers before he was reaching over and pulling his brother into a one arm hug. “Yeah, you’re damn right that I’m your big brother, and you best not forget it.” Joel had cracked a hairline of a smile when Tommy had playfully pushed him away. “So, Beanie is uh..she’s nice I take it? Who the hell gave her that nickname?”

Tommy had an undeniable knowing smirk on his face as he lightly chuckled. “You’re lookin’ at him.” He stated proudly.

Joel rolled his eyes with an unenthusiastic shake of his head.

For the next week, Joel continued to stop right outside your shop’s door. He’d kick at the snow covered ground with the tip of his boot, look up directly at your sign, mutter under his breath and continue on his way. It wasn’t until one afternoon after coming back from patrol did Joel Miller finally make a proper appearance.

The bells that were tied to the side of the door jingled excitedly as Joel stepped inside. The first thing he noticed was the string lights glittering above and the rows and rows of handmade mugs just waiting for a customer to grab and cherish. The fire crackled calmly as Joel slipped his gloves off and nervously rubbed his hands together. “Uh—hello? Anyone in today?”

He thought about turning around and walking straight out the door until he heard the sounds of someone putzing around in the back area behind a curtain.

“Just a second honey and I’ll be right with ya!” You called from the back room. You had gotten yourself into quite a pickle with attempting to lift an god awful heavy bag of sugar onto the shelf above.

Honey?

Must be a southern thing. Was the first thing that popped into Joel’s head. Why else would you be calling a total stranger a pet name? Unless everyone around here had just truly gone completely soft in the head.

“Oh for fuck sakes! Who the hell decided that sugar was supposed to be THIS heavy!” You let out a frustrated grunt as the sack of sugar nearly tumbled out of your grip once more.

Joel raised a brow at the sound of your struggle. He glanced around, as if there was anyone else in your cozy little shop to help. He let out a frustrated sigh knowing that he was going to have to be the gentleman and help you out himself. “Y’need a hand back there? I got an extra pair.” No shit Sherlock.

“Congratulations.” You deadpanned.

Joel let out a quiet snort before stepping around the counter and pulled back the curtain to find your body nearly being crushed by the sack of sugar. Despite this, you had one hand outstretched in his direction for him to shake as your cheek was pressed against the burlap material. “Thank goodness someone decided to stroll in today. Pleased to meet you, I’m Beanie. Now, can you please give me a hand? You did say that you had an extra pair after all.”

Joel opted out on not shaking your hand. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to, it just looked like you were seconds from passing out and being murdered by a sack of sugar; so much for introductions.

The first thing you noticed about Joel Miller were his hands and how effortlessly he grasped the bag of sugar and lifted it onto the shelf above like it weighed nothing. You may, or may not have caught the way his broad muscles flexed from the motion, or the little stray curl that just simply wouldn’t stay put. He was handsome. Anyone with two working eyes could make that statement.

“Thank you kindly. Would have been an awful way to go..getting smothered by a sack of sugar was not on my bingo card for the afternoon.” You brightly smiled at your figurative savior.

Joel thought your smile was pretty. There was a certain lightness that was held within your eyes and—what? He just met you, and so far you were..quirky. As he nicely put it to his brother later that evening.

“S’no problem. I agree, it woulda been an awful fuckin’ way to go. It’s a miracle I was here to save ya.” He stifled a warm chuckle.

You wiped your hands along the colorful apron that you always wore as you ushered him back around the counter as you rested your elbows along the wooden surface. “So, coffees on the house just this once. Go on and grab any mug that you like honey, and then what’ll you be having?”

“Do you call all your customers honey?” He couldn’t help but ask as he observed the rows of handmade mugs dangling above him.

“Yeah! It’s kinda like my trademark. I’ve also found it makes people’s day around here when you call them something sweet. Y’know?”

“Ahh so it’s not just for your favorites or anythin’ like that?” He reached for the largest mug that had a brown tinted rim with an intricately painted owl on the front of the mug. Despite the size of the mug, Joel’s hands dwarfed it down immensely. His hands completely engulfed it as he set it along the counter.

“Everyone is worthy of a sweet nickname in my eyes. Oh, this is one of my favorites” You softly spoke as he set the mug down along the counter. “Forgot to mention that you’ll get to keep the mug as well. Just another token of kindness around here.”

Joel looked confused by your statement at first because well, he was still adjusting to strangers being kind for no other reason other than they just wanted to. “Well…wouldn’t you run out of ‘em?”

“No, you silly goose. I make them myself, and there’s plenty to go around I promise. I let all my customers take a mug home in hopes that they come back again for another cup of coffee whenever they’d like. They’re good conversation starters as well. Take this one for example, I painted this guy after seeing an owl in the stables one evening. He sat still for me the entire time, and it was almost as if he wanted me to paint him. Isn’t that so cool?”

“You make these yourself? Wow, you’re uh—you’re really talented, Beanie. I am quite fond of owls..that’s why I picked that one..” he nervously rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I make them all from scratch and then paint the details later. There’s one up there that I actually pressed flowers into the wet clay like a stencil and then painted in the petals and such after.”

“So, you’re like an artist then? I do a bit of wood workin’ myself. Ain’t all that good at it, but it’s a hobby that I guess I enjoy.” He wasn’t sure why he was finding it so easy to talk to you. The conversation just seemingly flowed between the two of you.

“Me? An artist? I suppose you could say that but I just do it for fun really..helps the time pass by and people seem to enjoy it so that’s just another bonus for me. I’m sure your wood sculptures are beautiful. It’s good to have a hobby like that.”

Joel nodded, clearing his throat. “Yeah, so uh—anyway I heard that this is the best..well, only place to get a cup of coffee in town. I’ve had a lot of coffee in my lifetime, so I am expectin’ the best. I’m a bit of a coffee snob, I'll admit it.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place because I am a bit of a coffee snob myself. So, what’ll you be having? I can make just about anything, which is pretty fucking incredible considering we’re living in a post apocalyptic world and all that. Least I can do is make a damn good cup of coffee.”

“As long as it’s better than that Starbucks crap that every goddamn person I knew used to eat up like it was fuckin’ gold or somethin.’” He chuckled. “Uh—just a latte would be good. I know, I don’t look like much of a latte man, but ya did say you could make jus’ about anythin’ so i’ll put that to the test.”

“I never understood the whole Starbucks hype myself. Not when there were perfectly good local coffee shops around but hey, to each their own right? Anyway, one latte coming right up!” You grabbed the mug from the counter gingerly before starting on his drink. He was of course naturally curious on where the hell you sourced your coffee beans. You must have been reading his mind or at that exact moment because you were answering his question before it ever left his brain.

“It’s amazing what you can find at old plant nurseries and greenhouses. You cannot believe the excitement on my face when I found a couple coffee plants at a nursery in Colorado. Maria lets me use part of the greenhouse for the plants and they surprisingly hold up pretty well in the winter.”

“Are you a mind reader now too?” He jokingly asked as he casually leaned against the countertop. “So, who gave you the nickname Beanie if you don’t mind me askin’? Does it stand for somethin’ or did it just stick?”

“Nah, I just have an incredible sense of intuition. Your brother Tommy so happened to have given me this nickname. It started off as the “latte girl” and then he started calling me Beanie because well, coffee beans. Then it just sorta stuck and now everyone that comes in here calls me that.”

“Ahh. Of course my brother gave you that nickname. Why am I not surprised? How long have you known him? I take it, you know who I am then? He’s got an awful big fuckin’ mouth that one.”

You had your back towards Joel as you were finishing up on his latte. Back before outbreak day, you owned a little coffee shop much like this one, in Austin Texas. The name of your shop was Cuppa Smiles, and it was like your baby. You were known for your cute little latte art that had your customers feeling extra special, even on the toughest days. Well, not every customer appreciated it…

“I’ve known your brother for a few years now Joel. I was found just on the outskirts of town in pretty rough shape. I thought I was toast when Tommy and Maria found me. Little did I know that I was about to be brought into this little slice of heaven. He actually told me a couple weeks ago that you’d probably be stopping in sometime. I’m glad that you did.” You had just finished your latte art that consisted of a heart with two eyes and a smiley face.

You presented the mug to him with a soft smile and as he looked down at the heart smiling up at him through a sea of cream colored foam, the realization suddenly dawned upon him that he had met you before. Back before the cordyceps took everything from him that he knew. Back before he slept with a rifle under his bed. Back before—

“You were the reason that I was always fuckin’ late to work!” He blurted out suddenly as if he was having an aha! Moment where the lightbulb was going off and yelling, ‘ding ding ding! We have a winner ladies and gentlemen!’

Confusion washed over your features at his sudden outburst as you looked between the mug and the broad man standing before you, trying to pinpoint if you had met Joel Miller before but how was that even possible…right?

“I’m..sorry? I don’t believe I understand what you’re talking about?” You looked at him as if he had suddenly sprouted five heads.

“I know you, I swear I know you because back in Austin there was this one fuckin’ barista that always was insisting on doin’ some silly little latte art on my coffee, and every goddamn time I was late to work, It was because of you!” He didn’t know whether to laugh or grow angry at his newfound realization. One thing was for sure, his mind was absolutely turned to dust.

You blinked and opened your mouth like a blubbering fish as Joel solidified the truth that you did in fact know one another in some capacity. You couldn’t help the feeling of your heart stinging a little at his comment about your silly latte art.

“Oh my god, you were that man always saying he was in a rush! I remember you’d fly into the shop with—”

“My daughter.” He finished the sentence for you with flushed cheeks that were rosy at the peaks of his cheekbones. His heart was nearly hammering out of his chest as the past he forced himself to let go of was suddenly coming rushing back to him.

“She liked the strawberry jelly filled donuts that we always had on display.” You tone lowered, sounding more like a soft whisper.

“She didn’t just like them, she loved those fuckin’ donuts.” His head dropped slightly as he took a deep breath. “M’sorry for yellin’ at you like that. It’s jus’ that you’re the first person I’m seein’ in over 20 years that’s from my past that isn’t my brother. It’s just—it’s a lot to process.”

“Joel, it’s okay. You don’t have to apologize for reacting like that, okay? It was a normal human response. You did look familiar but I didn’t put two and two together till you brought up the latte art. I’m sorry I made you late for work all those times. I guess I just never picked up just how much in a rush you were..”

He was looking up at you now through thick lashes and warm espresso colored eyes that seemed to have flecks of gold in them, depending on the light they were in. “S’okay. I kept comin’ back because the coffee was that good, and cause Sarah loved those donuts..she thought your latte art was anythin’ but silly.”

“Well, I hope this cup lives up to what Cuppa Smiles used to deliver.”

“There’s only one way to find out.” Joel remarked as he wrapped his hands around the steaming mug. He took a small sip and instantly felt like he was back at home in Texas. It was an early Sunday morning, the mourning dove cooed outside the billowing curtains, Sarah called for her dad downstairs in the kitchen, stating that breakfast was ready. His favorite mug, and babygirl were waiting for him in the warm early morning light.

“Holy shit. This is delicious! How the hell did you get it to taste so good?” Joel asked as he took another sip.

“It just takes a bit of sugar, and lots and lots of love.” You responded with a soft smile gracing your features.

Tag List: @cupofjoel @morning-star-joy @thetriumphantpanda @sinsofsummers @dinsdjrn @cavillscurls @kirsteng42 @korynnekorynne @yazsos @amanitacowboy @ilovepedro @pedrostories

Please comment if you’d like to be added to the tag-list! ♡

Chapter 2:

[scekrex]

Sooooo, about that idea 😂😂 I'm sure you already know where this is going 👀👀

Adam and reader casually talking about something and they get to the subject of being together somehow even after death, how it would or should go if either of them dies and reader just goes: "Well, I definitely wouldn't move on if you died (Oup-). I don't think I would be able to... " and Adam just looks at him with a bewildered look and goes: "Fuck you mean 'If I died you wouldn't move on'??YOU'RE MY HUSBAND, IF I'M DYING, YOU'RE DYING. WITH. ME. AIN'T NO CHOICE! WE ARE MARRIEEEEED, WE GON' DO EVERYTHING TOGETHER AND IF THAT INVOLVES DYING THEN SO HELP ME HOLY FATHER, YOUR SPICY ASS IS GOING WITH ME". Originally I thought about the reader to say all of that, but then I just thought: No, hold on, that's such an Adam thing to say 😂😂

I swear Adam's so full of himself he'd simply be offended that reader's first intention wasn't "We're ride or die babe, if you die, I die with you" lmao

Baby we could be Bonnie & Clyde

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, talking about death, slightly cracky

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

“What’s up, buttercup,” Adam hummed as he sat down next to you on the bed. The thoughts of the upcoming extermination weren't sitting right with you, it was really nothing more than a gut feeling but something told you that Adam and you should skip extermination day this year. And maybe that was part of the reason why you've been so quiet all day, maybe not, who knew.

Well, Adam seemed to at least know that something was bothering you.

You rested your head against his upper arm and sighed, maybe talking would get it off your chest for a moment, talking to Adam about the things that bothered you often helped. “I wanna skip extermination this year,” you started, you weren't able to look at your husband, not that you were afraid of his reaction but you knew how much that day meant to him as the leader of the exorcists. “Why?” was all the brunette asked as his wing softly wrapped itself around your back, the tip of his feathers were therefore resting on your thighs, not that you minded.

Yeah, why was a damn good question. Because of some stupid fucking gut feeling wasn't exactly the answer you wanted to give but it was all you had that came close to a reason so you said that. Adam remained silent for a moment, he seemed to be genuinely thinking about a response. “I get it,” he then mumbled and that made you peek up to him with curious eyes. You wouldn't have thought he did, or maybe he just said it to ease your mind a little. “Before my first extermination I was so fucking nervous,” the first man continued with a soft chuckle rumbling through his body and his arm came up to softly caress your shoulder, “I mean every time we go down there my life's on the line, and not just fucking mine but the lives of my chicks too.” Yeah, you assumed he was right. “I mean, it's not like these demon bitches would fight back or shit, but, y’know, they could, so what if they quit being fucking bitches and hurt my ladies? They're not going to, but they fucking could and-” he paused for a moment, took a deep breath as his eyes focused on the wall across the bed, “and that's fucking scary.”

Had Adam just admitted that he was scared of something? That he was scared of the demons in hell fighting back? It seemed that way. “I don't think I'd be able to move on if they'd kill ya,” your voice was quiet, shaking and far from sounding stable. Adam's eyes moved from the wall to you, an offended look in them, “The fuck you mean ‘you wouldn't be able to move on?” You backed off a little in order to look at him properly, “Y’know, I don't think I'd be able to ever be happy again.”

The first man grabbed your shoulders and shook you lightly, playfully, yet his eyes were dead serious when he spoke, “You’re my fucking husband, if I die you're dying with me, ain't no fucking choice.” You frowned a little at his words, but now that you thought about it dying with him sounded better than grieving his death for all of eternity. Your wing nudged his shoulder playfully and you replied, “Yeah well, that offer wasn't on the fucking table.” That caused a grin to erupt on his face and he pressed your upper body backwards until your back was flush against the mattress, “Yeah well, fuck whatever offer’s on the table and what's not, we're fucking married bitch.” His face came close to yours as he leaned down and for a brief moment you thought he was going to steal a kiss from you, but then his lips moved to your nape instead, “We’re gonna do everything together and if that involves dying, then holy father help me, your spicy ass is coming with me and if I have to drag you with me personally,” he paused to press a kiss to your jaw, his teeth softly scraping against your skin before he continued, “Then fuck, I fucking will, you got that?”

A laughter bubbled up from your chest at that and you grabbed onto his shoulders to flip you both over, now you were on top of him, “When the fuck did I sign up for a double homicide, huh?” He grinned up at you from below as his hands slid down your sides to come rest on your hips, “When you signed the fucking papers to marry me, slipped in a little contract that said your ass belongs to me and that you have to fucking die with me.” You pretended to punch his chest as you chuckled, “Fuck you, bitch.” Adam's grin only widened at that as he cheekily shot back a, “Do it yourself, you fucking coward.”

If he was inviting you so nicely, who were you to reject?

[inn-oceanid]

Kazuha and Scaramouche as your dorm mates

: Part two (?) bc i rlly need sleep,, NOT PROOFREAD.

Drabbles, headcanons, SFW (?) SFW.

Includes flirting ofc. Touchy scaramouche and Kazuha but that’s all.

Kazuha

Kazuha is a very sweet dorm mate, he has his own ways of flirting. Yes, his own. Only he can know if he’s actually flirting with you (maybe scaramouche knows too).

Daily greetings is his thing. Whenever you exit your room, you’ll be welcomed with a warm, “Good morning, [Name].” And watch you do your work (like morning routine, etc) hell watch you go back and fourth.

He likes your bed hair and voice, he finds it really adorable. Especially when you’re confused when you wake up. He gets to guide you like you’re his pet (in an adorable way ofc..).

Head pats, shoulder pats, hand gestures.

He has the habit of looking so straight at your eyes while he ties his hair while his teeth held his hair tie.

It’s something you can’t avoid looking at, you really think it’s attractive how he’s focused on tying his hair while some strands fall from his grip. And he knows that you think you do.

“The way you stare could melt me anytime now.” He says. He’s quite flattered that you’re looking at him. And he wants you to look at him only.

Kazuha low key likes teasing you too.

Like when he catches you staring at him, he’ll go veeeeery close to you (seat near, lean in) and smirk lazily.

“This way you can have a look at me better, no?”

He likes guiding your hand to his face, cheeks or you know. Brush his hair using your fingers. He likes your touch, and he’ll ask more for it.

And speaking of touching,

He likes holding onto your hips and waist. For example, when he’s trying to get through and you’re blocking his way, he’ll grab your waist and move you to the side firmly. “Excuse me, pretty.”

Like?? Pls omg stop.

He knows it gets you flustered. And he wants that.

Just- he’s very bold. Period. He’ll do whatever he wants, wherever, but of course, as long as your comfortable.

Random hand kisses. </3

When you walk pass him while he’s sitting on a chair, he’ll grab your hand and pull you. Then peck your hand. Then let’s you go again.

When he walks pass you for the next lesson. While he’s walking, he’ll get your attention by pulling your hand and kiss it, then go to his next class.

“Meet us after this, cafeteria. See you.” He flashes a quick smile before catching up to his friend.

When he’s being scolded in the hallway for sleeping in class, and when he sees you? —he’ll stop focusing on the teacher and focus on your figure instead. You stare at him and wonder what happened.

While he’s just tilting his head to the side and waving at you simply, smiling as if he’s not in trouble for sleeping.

You’re his muse when he writes poems. And every poems he wrote in English class, they all describes you. He smiles when he reads his self made poems because, it’s basically you that he’s reading.

His adorable pretty muse.

Although he doesn’t have the courage to show you his poems just yet.

Scaramouche

Okay Scaramouche is a different level.

If Kazuha is soft, sweet, and gentle, Scaramouche is the aggressively touchy and flirty type.

Touches you 24/7.

Without caring who’s looking, wether it’d be Kazuha or every students in the hallway.

He likes how people begin to whisper things whenever his hand lands on yours all of the sudden when you’re walking.

And the thing is, he won’t show that he’s teasing you of flirting with you. He’ll act like it’s a normal thing to do. He’s smug.

When you try to shake him off, he’ll raise his eyebrows at you.

“I won’t let go until classes start.”

Casually talks with Kazuha while holding your hand.

But this is not the worse so far.

But if you’re asking for worse, he’ll literally hug you from the back while you’re talking with your friends, slithering like a snake.

And of course, he has that smug smile plastered on his face.

“Let’s go find Kazuha.”

Literally steals you away from your friends (who’re now fangirling.)

Oh and.

He has the habit of running his hand on your back while he walks pass. Like, to only steal your attention, for you to know that he’s there as well as Kazuha. He won’t even look at you.

But he has his shit eating smirk on his lips while he pretends he did nothing wrong.

When you’re at your dorms and when Kazuha’s not there (probably in detention for sleeping) he cooks with you.

He’ll make you his assistant and will ask things for you to get him things, like the spatula, salt etc.

He feeds you. Like, when he wants you to try something, he feeds you. He doesn’t say anything but just feeds and listens to your comment about it.

(Uses the same spoon to taste it himself)

but it wasn’t on purpose, he was completely mindless about it. maybe because he doesn’t really mind sharing with you.

Or sometimes, he uses your hand to feed himself. God stop-

He’s whiny when you’re home unlike when you’re at school. You being busy? He’ll whine. Your name.

“What are you even doing???”

That ‘???’ Is how you guess if he’s whining or not LMFAO.

“I’m doing my math homework.” You say while you focus on the sheet of paper.

He stands beside you with one arm on the table as he looks down on the paper.

Hear me out, he’s good at math. Which is very attractive. Like really.

He says he’ll teach you later so you end up being dragged away and embraced by a kid.

Bonus

Sometimes, these two would team up on you.

Like, when you three go shopping, they’ll put things on the basket that they think you’d like (in which you do) without checking the price. Leaving you to be the one to check.

“13 thousand Mora?!” You can barely pass out once you saw the price of the perfume.

Kazuha snatches the perfume and puts it back in the basket and Scaramouche pushes you. “Walk walk”

Basically, they spoil you.

(Sometimes they’d enter a lingerie department which embarrasses the shit out of you because the staffs were giving the three of you glances because. Bro, you’re with two guys inside a lingerie store)

But they don’t buy ofc, they only went there to tease you.

But lowkey has the intention to buy you soon.

Scaramouche is the one who pays. He passes you his credit card and even tells you the pin so you can pay while the two of them talk behind you.

“92904” Scaramouche tells his pin as if it was yours.

(Idk if y’all get this but 92904 is basically Japanese numbers, ‘Ku(9) ni(2) ku(9) zu(0) shi(4)’ I’m Japanese trust me.)

Then when you finish paying, they’ll bring the shopping bags while having you hold their lattes as you grab a taxi and go home.

Good luck with your Klee and Kazuha pulls !

I got Kazuha after 20 pulls. :’) I want c1 too but it’s worth it because I waited for 10 months for his rerun now I finally got him. In ar 53 😭

Now time to save up for Scaramouche.

[planetpiastri]

do you know that I would be so honest to god grateful if you did the comparing hand size prompt w roosty? i just am already jaw dropped thinking about it

this blurb is brought to u by this lovely req + me watching fant4stic way too late at night bc i was in a miles mood. enjoy anon<33 | [wc - 1k]

Bradley’s arm around your shoulders was heavy and comforting, and it was all you could do to keep your eyes open and focused on the television screen. You could hear the others chatting in the kitchen, and you were pretty sure that someone had turned on the grill outside. Was that bacon sizzling you smelled?

All in all, it was a pretty normal kickback at Hangman’s.

The movie you were watching wasn’t even particularly good; it was yet another low-budget Fantastic Four remake. Fanboy had turned it on, promising everyone would be amused if not at least entertained, and fifteen minutes in he and everyone else had promptly gotten up and stopped watching. The only ones left were you and Bradley, curled up together on the couch—and you’d only stayed because to get up would be to abandon extreme comfort.

“Hey, that guy kinda looks like you,” you mumbled, squinting at the screen.

Bradley snorted, and the sound reverberated through you from the place where your back was pressed to his chest. “I don’t see it.”

“Who’s hungry?” called Payback, coming in from the back porch with Fanboy following behind. They both carried big plates that confirmed that, yes, it had been bacon you’d been smelling.

Everyone immediately swarmed the two, oohing and aahing.

“Nothing excites drunk people more than bacon,” you mumbled.

“Why is that guy made of rocks?” Bradley said.

“Get me some bacon,” you said, swatting at his arm.

“Like, why wouldn’t he just get the ability to grow rocks? Or harden his skin? Why does he have to be made of rocks?”

“Bradley!” you said, laughing and jostling him. “Bradley, bacon!”

“Okay, okay. Move.”

You shifted upright long enough for him to disentangle himself from you and stand up. Then you flopped back down onto the cushions, appreciating the leftover warmth his body had left. You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, burrowing your nose into the soft fabric and breathing in deeply. It smelled mostly like Hangman and the aftershave he swore by, but there, buried in the fibers—Bradley’s cologne.

God, you loved that smell. It smelled like home. 

“What is the deal with you two?” said Fanboy, sitting down at the end of the couch so suddenly that you yelped in alarm.

“Mickey!” you gasped, pulling your feet out from under him. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Bacon!” he replied, like that was a normal place to go during a party. “How’s the movie? Hilarious, right?”

“It’s definitely something.”

“Are you gonna answer my question?”

Your cheeks burned, and you pulled the blanket up to your nose, hoping Fanboy wouldn’t be able to pick up on your nerves. “What are you talking about?”

“You know,” he said, gesturing with a stray piece of bacon, “the deal. The carpooling, the cuddling, the sleepovers. I’ve never seen Bradley so… happy,” he said finally. He took a bite of bacon, chewing thoughtfully. “None of us have.”

You really didn’t know what to say to that. You’d never considered that there might be more to your relationship with Bradley. He was your best friend, and that was as far as you’d gotten. You’d met him fresh off a new heartbreak, and you hadn’t been eager to throw yourself towards another one. You knew him well enough to know that heartbreak was the most realistic outcome if you did get yourself involved, so you stayed away from any feelings like that, and you stayed friends. 

And you were fine with that. You were happy with that. 

So why the hell did Fanboy have to go and say something lovely like that and throw you off?

“Okay, budge up,” said Bradley, stepping back around the coffee table and waiting for you to sit up so that he could position himself behind you again. Once you’d settled back into his lap, he handed you a napkin delicately folded over three warm slices of bacon.

You weren’t really hungry anymore, but you didn’t want Bradley to think Fanboy had been saying anything weird, so you picked one up and took a dainty nibble.

“What the hell happened?” Bradley said, staring at the screen. “I was gone five seconds, how are they on a different planet?”

“Isn’t that the greatest part?” said Fanboy. “I was here for the last few minutes, and I don’t even know!”

“You’re not eating your bacon,” Bradley told you.

Embarrassed warmth flooded you. “I am!” you said defensively, taking a bite to prove it. “Thank you very much for getting it for me.”

“This movie completely wastes Michael B. Jordan,” said Fanboy to nobody in particular.

“You’re still not eating it,” said Bradley. “I thought you liked the crispier pieces.”

“I do!” you protested, but it was no use. Bradley was already pulling your napkin out of your hand and giving you his instead, with his juicier, fattier slices of bacon.

Then his hands stilled over yours and he said, “Have your hands always been this small and I just never noticed?”

You smiled in spite of yourself. “They are not small.”

“They’re tiny,” he insisted, setting both napkins of bacon down on the coffee table.

“They’re not!” you argued, holding them up to the light. “They are normal, proportional, human-sized hands!”

Bradley’s arm around your shoulders rose up, and one hand traced the inside of your wrist briefly. Goosebumps erupted down your arms, and you were thankful you’d decided to wear long sleeves. Then he pressed his palm flat to yours, turning it this way and that in the light, seemingly assessing whether your hands were as pitifully minuscule as he seemed to suspect.

“See,” you said, your voice sounding far away even to yourself. “Normal sized hands.”

“Hmm,” said Bradley. Then he shifted his palm by the slightest margin and pushed his fingers forward, lacing your hands together.

Electricity jolted through you, and you were sure he could feel your heart pounding. At the other end of the couch, Fanboy was staring at the tv so hard that he couldn’t have actually been paying attention.

“Yep,” Bradley said decisively. “The perfect size, I’d say.”

“You doofus,” you said, pleased warmth flooding your body. But you tucked his hand against your chest and curled against him, and you felt pretty happy to be watching a terrible movie on the couch of a party with this lovely man.

[emmyrosee]

GUESS WHO’S BACK!!! WITH ANOTHER RANT!!! your resident haikyuu simp, that’s who. (a simp who is currently listening to her friend argue w her bf send help this is so awkward)

Today I offer: sunarin teasing a (slightly) jealous reader.

Okay so let’s just say that your relationship was more on the private side- no one outside of friends, his teammates and family knew he was dating anyone. But you’ve been together for so long?? Like years. And his fans for some reason seem to think he’s been dating some other public figure (up to your imagination) bc they’ve been at the same events a couple times now and somehow keep ending up in pics together. These two have like, never spoken aside from awkward small talk to be polite. Very un-relationship like. So anyway. You’re starting to not like the fact that every single time you open social media you’re flooded with fan pages shipping them, and Suna picks up on this and just??? Posts you one day??? Randomly??? And it’s both the sweetest and most annoying thing ever bc aww cute caption and stuff but “really, rin, did you NEED to add the picture of us from two years ago when my hair looked like that?” (He might have also posted a suggestive pic of you two or a video of you kissing or something at the end and you just haven’t scrolled that far yet so he basks in the peace and hides away before he can hear your shriek when you realize hehe)

Either way it’s sweet and things calm down after that, but he teases you RELENTLESSLY about the fact you were jealous and makes it known that you’re the only one for him ever. and that he would never even make you jealous on purpose or anything, he just likes the feeling of belonging to you as much as you belong to him <3

I’m just soft for rin, my next couple rants might be suna-centric :3

anon <3

WOULD LIGHT MYSELF ON FIRE FOR ONE (1) SUNA RINTARO, HE IS THE LOML AND I WILL ABSOLUTELY DEVPUR ALL THE RINTARO RANTS-

Ahem.

He’s a shit. I love him so much.

Because like, yeah, okay, paparazzi are the worst, and while he’s still able to live his life like a standard person, he knows what people do to celebrities who are in relationships, and he doesn’t want to put you through that. Your friends respected that, his teammates completely close lipped -atsumu actually has it in his interview agreements he’s never to talk about any relationships, and honestly, it’s been a life saver for so many of his teammates- but nothings perfect.

Sometimes, like an idiot, Rin leaves the house with hickeys on full display. Just. Out and about. The media loves that, and usually, Rintaro doesn’t even care, whatever makes them happy.

But then it happens.

He gets out of a limo at a sponsor event, with a ‘mysterious woman,’ dress shirt wrinkled and tux closed haphazardly.

And of course, a hickey just above the pristine white collar.

This. Blows. Up.

Because of course it does, and of course people now assume this woman is the one who leaves marks on your boyfriends body, and how cool he is for dating someone uNdErGrOuNd and whatever the bloody hell they try to spew.

And it hurts, okay, because this woman- Atsumu’s stylist, literally because the man child can’t go one damned day without spilling something on himself, and that’s actually why she was helping Rin, dumbass spilt champagne all over his-damn-self- is very obviously not his partner, you are, and it’s just. It sucks watching them get fan edits and theories on how long they’re been together when you know the truth.

It turns you pretty sour towards him, almost resentful, and he tries to remind you that it’s just a rumor and you’re the only soul he’d ever want to be with, but it gets hard to believe when you open your Instagram and it’s about how stunning “Rin’s girlfriend” is.

And you, obviously, are not that person. You’re you.

Instead of sitting together, you’re sitting on one end of the couch, far from him; he tries to snuggle, and you get up and leave the room. Instead of holding his hand in the car, his hand tries desperately to paw for yours or even your thigh, just to hold onto you, but you turn towards the window. Instead of going with him places when he goes to see his buddies, you croak out an extremely sad “how about you go with the pretty lady who gives you hickeys?”

He feels bad for you, obviously. But in his own mind, he’s at his breaking point. He needs your attention and affection, he thrives and breathes and lives because of it, and now he’s losing his mind that he hasn’t had it for weeks.

So, against telling you, and hoping to smother any other rumors about himself and Atsumu’s stylist, he makes his post.

None of them have your whole face, maybe an eye or a smile or wearing a mask (he put some thought into this okay-) but it’s very obviously not the stylist. He posts a picture of a shadow in which your hands are holding, the next one is a picture you took, where your hand was shaped in half a heart and on the other end, he held up the other half to match, and finally, a video; one where he’s laying on top of you with his eyes closed, your hand in his hair and scratching his scalp while he sleepily mumbles how much he loves you (the last video is actually one he took of you suckling and marking up his neck, his raspy breath on the other end; extremely not safe for the internet, and naturally, when you saw that, you shit your pants and chased him with a shoe, but that’s not the point.)

It’s something he clearly wanted to fix, but also wanted to keep you as safe as possible. And you certainly appreciate it, and when you see what he did and how the comments are now hyping you up, you shuffle your way to find him. He’s on the couch, carding his own hair, and smiling up at you as you approach him.

“Thank you,” you whisper, and he shifts one of the legs sprawled out on the couch to rest on the floor so you can lay between them, which you do. “I hated being so far from you but… but I couldn’t-“

“I get it,” he assures, nosing softly at you. “It wasn’t fair to you. I know how much you hated it.”

“She was very pretty, though,” you confess, and he lowers his eyes to peek at you through his lashes.

“You think so?” He asks, shrugging as you nod. “Wasn’t really my type.”

[morose-marble]

Incoherent ramble bc I have the brain worms about Apo

I am very annoying and also unwell, which is why I have taken to scrubbing through a not-insubstantial amount of episodes from Apo's lakorns (without subtitles) to form some kind of picture of what kind of roles he was cast in while employed by channel 3, and sending screen caps to literally anyone with a messaging app in my immediate social circle (they are in hell, thanks for asking). So, now that I have run out of people to torment with my obsessive tendencies, I am left with posting into the void on good ole tungle dot com.

So far, it seems that Apo's bread and butter was a wholesome, boy next door, nong type character (this is based on quite shaky interpretations of Sut Khaen Saen Rak, Buang Banjathorn, Chaat Payak and Prakasit Khammatep) with some exceptions, such as Tiang in Chat Suer Pun Mungkorn, a hot-headed young gangster. These aside, I have not yet formed a comprehensive understanding of his profile as an actor, as I can't seem to get my hands on some of the dramas at all.

The aforementioned roles were all supporting ones, and I could only find episodes for one of his two lead parts, that of Pong Khun Boon Jirakit in Pra Teap Rak Hang Jai, an enemies to lovers story(?). His character sells artisanal traditional Thai silk(?) and ends up falling for a rich woman (Preeyakarn Jaikanta) down on her luck who needs to become independent and better herself as a person(?). Quite a straightforward premise. (He wears a bunch of plaid in the show, he looks uncomfortable.)

Now. What I have noticed about Apo's career in supporting parts is that the male leads he supports are very...narrowly masculine, in comparison to him. Apo has talked about having faced homophobia/general cishet discriminatory nonsense in the industry at that time, and flicking through these shows really illuminates how rigid the concept of a lakorn romantic male lead was (maybe still is, I don't know). Obviously, I gathered that lakorn gender roles were a tad more conservative, but I still struggled slightly with understanding why Apo was treated the way he was, bc I feel like he is relatively conventionally masculine (my european perspective impacts my perception of what constitutes normative gender roles, I know) to the point where picking up on any ~queer~ vibes would be a gays only event. However, I feel like I get it a bit better now.

Apo is very handsome. He is also beautiful in a way that a lot of these leads aren't. They are pointedly conventionally masculine, not necessarily hypermasculine, but going towards that direction, something that is emphasised by their role in the narrative and acting style. Lots of stoicism and displays of quiet suffering and anger. I know, it's very reductive to place gendered presentations onto a spectrum etc etc, but if one were to operate within rigidly delineated binary requirements for gender presentation that exist in media (and society, there's nuance), Apo does not quite fit the criteria of a leading man within the given parameters. Which is terrible, of course. I can absolutely understand why Apo got fed up with the industry and decided to leave it all behind.

Additionally, as pointed out above with the repeated archetypal character traits, I feel that he did not get to flex his acting muscles in the narratives of these shows, which is another thing he has commented on, though maybe not in those words exactly.

Thinking about all of this makes his recent successes with Kinnporsche and Man Suang terribly interesting and delicious. I recognise that narrativising a celebrity's experiences as an affective story like this is mad parasocial brain rot behaviour, but the idea of him taking something that he was disparaged for earlier on in his career (perceived queerness) and turning it into a factor of him surpassing that which held him back is very attractive in a story sense. Like, what a triumph?

I'm not sure if any of this makes sense or if this is completely old news to everyone, but for some reason I had to get it out somewhere. I'll probably read this back in the morning and cringe mightily.

Anyway. What an interesting time to follow his advancement and the changes in the Thai BL industry, namely the increased attention from the government. I have fears, but I don't know how to articulate them yet. Therefore, I will focus on enjoyment for the time-being.

[evilkitten3]

when you think about it. madara is just. so. niasndladnsndlnls

as soon as he shows up he starts his "can't rely on any of these losers smh" crap and he keeps doing it. he constantly has to do things himself bc his minions are all fuck-ups or have entirely separate agendas or are fuck-ups with entirely separate agendas. and yet

again and again and again and AGAIN he trusts people. not even for good reasons sometimes. he genuinely seems to believe he can't rely on anyone other than himself and yet he repeatedly puts faith in people. some of them are complete strangers

"oh yeah this kid i trapped in my divorce dungeon after replacing half his body with my ex's dna? i'm going to psychologically traumatize him, sell him my identity, and hope he takes care of things while i'm busy being dead for the next couple decades. even tho he has no reason to bring me back, hates my guts, and as far as either of us is aware could probably pull off our masterplan without any more help from me. i am also going to assume that the version of him in his 30s is the same as the teenager version of him i knew even tho not only have i myself been through puberty but also i have firsthand experience of how people can change from when they were teenagers bc my ex broke up with me via literally stabbing me in the back and killing me when i realized our dream wasn't going where we wanted. he knew to go for my back bc i told him it was my weakness as a child. also i don't wear armor there bc i don't usually need it. i'm sure this kid would never do that to oh hey he's stabbing me"

"hey this weird plant zombie thing showed up and said he's an extension of my will or something. i have absolutely no way of verifying this but i am cool as hell so i'm just going to assume it's telling the truth and not using me as a pawn in some greater plan as it is encouraging me to do to others. it would never do that to ah hell in the back again"

"my brother is dead but my only friend who is now my enemy and who is also the older brother of my brother's killer wants to make an alliance even tho our families hate each other and my family also hates me and i also hate me and would rather he just kill me already which is also what everyone else wants. except for him bc we're ninja romeo and juliet but with fascism and if romeo had been able to put aside tybalt killing mercutio and if juliet had instead of drinking poison stabbed romeo to death with a sword. and then tybalt took over the city after she died and made decisions which eventually led to all the montagues except one getting massacred by his shitidiot older brother on a propaganda high. but hashirama would not ever do that to me and if i pushed him to a place where he needed me dead he would surely do it honorably and not in the back and that's a wood clone isn't it"

"hello small uzumaki child that i have not ever spoken to and do not intend to interact with directly i am going to break into your home and steal your eyeballs and replace them with my own significantly cooler eyeballs (they used to be my little brother's so please be careful with them) and you can play around with them while you do my minion/replacement's bidding until you use them to bring me back to life even though this will kill you and you don't even know me and will in fact think that someone else is me anyway and why is this edo tensei wtf do you mean nagato's dead. who the fuck is naruto"

it's like if the "rip to ur grandma but i'm different" meme was a person. and that person was simultaneously the speaker, the person being addressed, and the grandma.

[monsterinmyboxers]

jake being a little shit and reader taming him in the forest 🫶🏾

⠀⠀ humbling a brat.

pairing. jake sully x top male reader.

dni. fem-aligned and minors.

author’s note. changed the format again a bit bc my lil meow meow is so hh also im adding titles bc

content. pre-established relationship, jake being a brat and a masochist, under-negotiated kinks, choking, spanking, fingering, overstimulation, degradation, praise, and a singular ‘sir’.

“didn’t know someone could be more hardheaded than me.” a laugh came from jake sully, who was smirking, showing off his fangs.

your ears would press flat against your head, eyebrows twitching out of frustration. you had transferred into your avatar recently after the war had ended, being one of the few humans that decided to stay on pandora, and are just now learning the na'vi language. even though you were doing better than expected, jake would tease you nonstop every time you slipped up. he seemed to completely ignore the fact you were doing much better than he had at first.

it annoyed you, even more than his typical bickering did. everyone could tell, neytiri sensing your increasing anger no matter how hard you tried to hide it. she thought he had taken it too far, considering how tense you became. but, you knew what he was trying to do, what game he was trying to play. you’ve dealt with him long enough to see through him.

he follows after you as neytiri provides guidance, teaching you whilst zoning out jakes taunts, something you couldn’t do. but, that was only because they were directed towards you. and with every comment, he’d brush past you, tail gliding against you whenever it could, taking every chance to touch you without a second thought.

he wanted something, that something being you. your attention. your eyes traveling his body. maybe, he was jealous of how you weren’t giving him an form of regard. your reactions were what he yearned for, and not receiving any in the last few hours was clearly something he could not allow.

so, as a result, he’d talk shit just to spite you. enrage you. make you give in to him. and surprisingly, he was successful. you were pissed off. it gave him such a thrill to see how worked up you were, glaring at him, eyes clouded with what he could only imagine was lust.

he never attempted to stop and think about if he should shut his mouth. not once. per usual, he didn’t think about the consequences to his actions.

you’d do something about that soon.

after your lesson with neytiri was over, without any hesitation, you brought jake out into the forest, where neither of you could be heard by other na'vi. hopefully.

“you really need to learn when to shut the hell up.” the sudden outburst made jakes ears twitch downward, yet he still kept that assured demeanor on display. “aw, did i hurt someone’s feelings?” it’s like he was incapable of taking anything, or anyone seriously.

“jake, i’m going to,” you were quickly interrupted, “to what? fight me? i doubt you could even land a punch. you’re still getting used to your body — i’m already settled into mine. you don’t know what you’re doing, i do.” he said more, he always does, but you just blocked him out. you focused on his face.

how his lips move, how wide his puppy eyes were, how even in this body you could still easily tell that he was your boyfriend. your annoying, overconfident, bratty, beautiful boyfriend.

you let him talk for a moment more, before running a hand up his slim waist. that made him pause, stumble over his words, ears fluttering with interest. you didn’t spare another glance towards his face, paying more attention to how his lower half swayed — as if on instinct.

“weren’t, weren’t you just mad at me?” his tone was less cocky now, yet his confidence didn’t falter. “still am.” you spoke, then suddenly shoved him against the nearest tree. he loses his footing, but fortunately doesn’t fall, grunting once his back hit the trunk.

your name was said, but you didn’t listen, rather pressing your palm against his adams apple and wrapping your fingers around his throat.

you didn’t squeeze, never dared to put more pressure onto his neck, but the mere presence of your hand there had him struggling to breathe. “what, are you doing?” his heart skips a beat as your fingers dance along where his jaw and neck connect. you had such an affect on him, and you haven’t done very much.

“you’re, a dick. you know that? so much so that i, want to push you against the dirt,” you leaned in closer, lips nearly touching his ears. “and fuck you raw.” his tail twitched, almost wagging at your words. he wanted just that, you both knew by then. and, you were going to give it to him — but in your own way.

he’d turn his head a bit, an attempt to look at you head on. it was difficult to do with the current position he was in, so you’d back up only slightly.

“what’s stopping you?” that’d set you off, amusement pulling at your lips before you pressed them against his. the kiss was nowhere near innocent, tongues clashing within seconds. that battle was won by you, his mouth submitting to yours, letting you do as you please. you like this side of him. so bratty until you confront him, a show off until you touch him, give him the treatment he wanted — he deserved.

you pulled away when you couldn’t breathe, both of you panting softly before you move your palm, one gripping his hair and the other on his hip. you rearranged this position, only pleased once his back was facing you, his cheek and hands pushed against the tree. rather rough, he thought you were, the situation uncomfortable for him. though, you didn’t really care at the moment, and honestly, he didn’t either.

he wanted to be used, that’s why he started this shit in the first place. you were so focused on something that wasn’t him, and he couldn’t tolerate it, not for long.

as he was lost in thought, you had slid his loincloth down those thighs, ones that you adored, exposing him for only you to see. it’s not like the thin piece of clothing hid much, anyway. you couldn’t see his dick, but you were sure it was hard, straining, yearning for release. that much was obvious when he whined, quietly demanding that you get on with it; as if he had any control over you or what you determine to do with him.

you almost laughed, jake trying his best to be dominant and at the same time deliberately showing off his ass, back arching and tail lifting. in his head, he still held some kind of authority, while his body presented itself to you.

you would shift his stance, spreading his legs further, then taking your middle and ring finger and placing them onto his bottom lip. at first, he didn’t exactly get the message, until he curiously opened his mouth and you shoved your fingers inside. he let out a low gag, then allowed his tongue to lick between and along your digits.

he hollowed out his cheeks, beginning to suck as if it were your cock between his lips, choking whenever your finger tips hit the back of his throat. once you thought they were wet enough, you pull them out, watching as only a thread of spit connected you and him.

he seemed disappointed as you did this. he’s learned, because of you, that he enjoys oral more than he originally thought. but, that’s a story for another time.

your dry hand massaged his hip, the other rubbing just around where he wanted your fingers most. annoyance got to jake quick, giving you a snarky tone. “hurry up.”

this sudden change in attitude was unexpected, and your eyebrows furrowed. you thought he had given up this front already, and just let you take care of him. apparently, you were wrong.

“fuckin’, come on—” he could barely get the phrase out before he felt a stinging pain on his ass. he yelped, bordering on a damn whimper. you’ve never done that before, and shit, he wish that you had.

you felt a moment of regret, not sure how he would react to that as it was a heat of the moment thing — but your thoughts were shut down quickly.

“that- that all you got?” you let out a silent sigh of relief, jaw clenching a bit before bringing your hand down again. the smack was audible, his body jolting on impact. the moan he let out was choked on, his hands now gripping the bark of the tree he was stabilizing himself on.

he readied himself for another painful sensation, but instead felt something prod at and enter his hole. as no warning was given, jakes chest forced out a keen, tensing for a second before welcoming the intrusion.

you didn’t wait to add your other finger, making the man inhale sharply. no matter how tight he was, you found a way to move in and out, not giving him a break — a moment to take air into his lungs. his mouth was wide open, not caring for any noise that escaped him, or the drool that fell onto his chin and lower.

you played with him throughout, separating your fingers and stretching him out, easily finding and thrusting onto the source of his sensitivity. you unraveled him so fast, too fast, heat building in his stomach. he had no restraint, hand going down to his dick. which you, evidently, didn’t like, spanking him once more.

“don’t you fuckin’ dare.” he whimpered so loud at your tone, deciding to touch you instead. grabbing your biceps, forearms, anything in his reach. “‘m gonna cuh-come, g-gonna come,” barely understanding the stuttered words, you hum, one that rumbled, coming from deep within your chest — effecting him greatly, seeing as he came right then and there.

this was new. you wouldn’t go this far with fingering, making him come and all. you only bothered to finger him for preparation, as requested by him. he didn’t like wasting time on things other than your dick.

jake is rather vanilla when it comes to sex, sticking with the stuff he was familiar with, especially since you were his first ever boyfriend and he was almost intimidated by the other possibilities.

though, you have been talking about how you wanted to go further, try new things, push his boundaries — with his consent. he had to think about it, but in the end, he agreed. so, you took this chance, prolonging your time together, testing both yours and his patience.

you stroked your nails along his prostate, having him experience this orgasm for as long as possible. you stopped when he became lightheaded, body slowly going limp. and as his vision was clearing, you began to pull out.

he thought you’d finally fuck him then, a toothy grin complementing his face once he was conscious enough to do so.

though, he couldn’t get too excited, since you only shoved your fingers back into him. you instantly curl them, earning a wobbled moan, and gasps of protest, “no, no, cock, need your dih-dick, n-need it,” he tried to convince you, but you paid him no mind.

“i don’t think you deserve it.” at that, he sobs. degradation was something you found interesting. you’ve never seen jake, someone so stubborn and prideful, in such a state of distress over something so dirty. you should do this more often.

it was hard to argue with you constantly abusing his insides, but he somehow managed. even though he’s lost his ego, he hasn’t lost his determination. “i’m- i’m sorry, so sorry, plea-please. was doing, for attention, didn’ mean eh-it! promise, promise, pinky prom- fuh-uck!” tears were shed, jake coughing as he inhaled his own spit. god, he was a mess.

your motions were relentless, mind wondering how many orgasms you could get out of him with just your fingers. two? three? four? you wanted to find out. yet, you knew you wouldn’t be able to wait much longer, noticing how hard you’ve become over time. so, you made up your mind, wrist moving back and forth to support your fingers.

“one more, come again and you’ll get my dick.” he barely heard you, trying to regain his composure again and again and failing each time. his lack of response worried you, slowing down and allowing that demanding facade to fade away, leaning in close. “did you hear me, jake?”

it took him a few seconds, but the sudden pause in stimulation got him to concentrate. “ye-yes, sir. can do it,” the title made your tail lash side to side, lips pressing gentle kisses against his jaw. “that’s it, good boy, so obedient for me.” his body twitches, an already existing blush spreading to his ears. the check-in ended shortly, hand getting back to work on jakes approaching orgasm.

with the mix of overstimulation and you whispering praises, he didn’t last very long. “gonna, come, ah-gain, again,” no sentence was left uninterrupted, jake now relying on you to keep him up, trembling arms extending back and wrapping around your neck, nails reaching and scratching at your upper back. he needed something to grip onto, to remind himself that this was real.

yellow eyes were blown wide, pupils dilated as he came again, painting the tree in front of him. you, once again, drew out this feeling of euphoria. this time, you pulled out completely, letting him calm down from his high. he breathed in deeply, something he couldn’t seem to do for the last hour, then exhaled like he was shivering.

embarrassment eventually washed over him, jake hiding his flushed face in the crook of your neck. “dick.” it was stifled, but you knew what he said nonetheless. “you askin’ for it or are you callin’ me one?” that earned you a smack on the arm, since that was the only part of your body he could get to.

you hum, then shrugged him off, jake landing on the wood in front of him. he clung onto the tree, using anything as leverage so he wouldn’t collapse. finally, you’d take your loincloth off, letting out a sigh of relief once you were freed of your confinements.

as expected, you were hard, pre-cum gathering on your tip. you curse under your breath, inching forward and resting your dick on jakes ass. the weight made him gasp softly, a whine following, him now using one hand to grab hold of his ass and spread himself open. you could hear how he gulped, and the unsteady sigh after. he was flushed, nothing hiding how heat spread out from his face to his shoulders. he was hot all over, really.

his eagerness made an appearance, tail whipping around like a dogs would. though, it would stop, but just to wrap around your thigh. you snort, soon grabbing at his braid, tugging at it. he lets out a string of pleas; he’s already waited so long.

you pretend to think about it, an inquisitive hum given, just to draw things out. you would come to a conclusion, mumbling a soft “alright,” before rubbing your head along his rim. he attempts to move, to try and get you into him, but he was only met with a now familiar pain on his ass. he quivers under your touch, cussing you out in his head, not having the balls to be an asshole out loud anymore.

only a few more seconds pass as you decide to give in, spitting down onto your base and rubbing it along your shaft, up to the tip. you’d then press forward, putting more and more stress onto his hole until you sunk inside.

it was a slow process, you making it that way just to tease him, watching as he took you in inch by inch, piece by piece. he heaves, feeling every vein on your cock graze his walls. and while it was torture to never know when his ass was going to touch your hips, he still had a cock-drunk smile on his face. sharp teeth bit his lower lip, biceps flexing as he gripped a nearby vine.

eventually, you bottom out, jake clamping down on you as a response. he tried his very best to relax so you had easy access, but couldn’t help it once you were fully inside him, filling him. he never wanted you to leave.

“if you wanna get fucked, you’re gonna need to ease up on the clenching.” he felt unnaturally shy, your words making his ears fold back and redden. despite that, he loosened up, expecting you to start thrusting then.

but, nothing happened.

you didn’t move, only chuckling softly as he tried to look back at you. “are you going to move?” you beat him to it, jakes eyebrows raising. he knew what you were implying.

a soft cry came from him, hips shifting before he moved away from you, half of your dick dragging out of him. he’d sink back down, moaning out loud — and repeating this action.

it was difficult to go at the faster and rougher pace that he oh so craved, as his legs couldn’t even carry his own muscle by themselves at the moment. once he gave up on being independent, his hips go even slower so he could try and talk successfully, “need, h-help. can’t, can’t do it.” he felt almost ashamed to admit it.

but, that feeling quickly subsided as you combed your fingers through his locks, the soft touch contrasting greatly with how roughly you pounded into him.

he sounded so — vulnerable. it strengthened that urge to ravage him, making it impossible to ignore. your hips switch directions, looking for that specific bundle of nerves once more. it didn’t take long to find it, jake releasing a sob once you did, your thrusts ceaseless as you practically bruise his prostate.

his body presses forward with the force you use, chest scratching the skin of the tree, but he couldn’t focus on that now. the only thing he could think about was how deep you were; the sound of himself, you, and your pelvis hitting his ass filled his ears.

you came in close, breath skimming the side of his neck while you panted, with occasional growls that you weren’t even aware of given as well. they came without your permission, as if you didn’t have power over your own vocal cords. they only turned jake on even more.

maybe a little too much, even.

cum shot out of his dick, creating another mess over his previous ones. though this time, the liquid was thinner, almost losing color. overstimulation caught on fast, jake crying out, “so much, t-too much, can’t, too muh-ch!” you shush him, your rhythm slowing in pity. “i’m right there, jake. you’ve been so good, so good. be a slut for a few more seconds, will you?” your voice held empathy, thrusts becoming shallow.

he gave a mere nod. you continue your movement, relishing in how his warmth sheathed your cock. you words were proven true, it only taking seconds for you to empty inside him, thick cum stuffing him to the brim. a final, rather weak moan was elicited from him, eyes closing as you drain yourself.

after finishing, you both pant heavily, “jake,” you spoke, nose poking at his nape. though, he didn’t respond. “..jake.” no response. “jake?” you worried that he may have passed out, but to your relief, he hummed right before you began to panic.

“you okay?” your hands rub his hips and sides, gliding down his curves, soothing him. “mhm.” he couldn’t say much else, it looked like. yet, you still decided to ask, “did you enjoy it?”

he took a moment, gulping heavily before chuckling. it was a silent one, the sole reason you knew he laughed was by how his shoulders shook. “..hell yeah.”

[bloogers-boogers]

Forbidden Power AU. This AU focuses on Michael, it's the end of all Creation, all thanks to Lucifer's Spawn. Michael's final attempt to fix everything is to Disturb their father Only To Discover that his father is dead and has been dead for what looks like years there is still hope his father may be dead but his Authority can still be used... All angels authorities are held in Halos and God is no exception... Michael has a halo So he can go back and fix everything... The issue is the darkness in his heart, his Desire for the First man... Originally he was going to leave Almost everything unchanged...but this is an Opportunity he never did get or never should have had...can he stay on the noble path...ya No Michael has bin the good boy all his Existence and he will continue to be the good boy But he will be so when it comes to Adam and make Adam Exactly how he wants him to be

Hopefully this ask is for me and not mistaken for another blog shsiwbdjiwe do not get me wrong I love the guitarhero ship but I haven't posted anything about them aside from the drawing I made for @/ironbatpaperturtle (and my adamsapple fic) so I have a feeling that maybe this ask wasn't for me 😭

I should tho... like write more of them cause ngl I really like them together but my whole view on those two is far different than @/ironbatpaperturtle's Michael and Adam ahdjendiw

BUT if this anon is for me then I appreciate you for sharing me your au whdjwkdjdwoek 💖 now, with all that said let me proceed on actually answering you.

Omygod. Okay first, I think the God being dead for the longest period is such an interesting concept I read something similar like this before in a fic (adamsapple) called 'the devil you know /by anglotron' so I like it, kinda explains why angels would be put in so much work (do drastic choices) if God isn't there to guide them and solve things for them or just get involved but I also love the concept of him not giving a f*ck shjsiahdwiwbs after Lucifer's fall/betrayal he was just left hopeless for anything; his most "perfect creation" (Adam) corrupted by evil and then his most "perfect angel" turned out to have been the one to bring said corruption. (he may still care for Michael and Jesus tho but like it's hard for him to care about the rest) and letting all his children figure it out themselves (poor Sera), like, I can picture him just as depressed like Lucifer in the show issisofksos but unlike him who copes with making ducks, God just lays in the couch mopping about how disappointed in humanity he is and how "perfect" everything was before he planted the damn apple on earth, while he bosses Michael and maybe Metatron too (tho with him he's a lot more harsher bc he was previously human and he's kinda just bitter about them in general, but he's proven his worth enough) around to bring him shit like ice cream or junk food (tho he could easily just summoned all those things he subconsciously just wants company and Michael is there to bring it to him the only angel that has not yet disappointed/maintain loyal to him). So yeah.

Anyways — I still like the concept of God actually being dead. Like when you say Michael has a halo do you meant like he holds on to God's halo? Cause that's kinda cool af, imagine him just holding on to the halo of God (maybe even pitifully hopeful their father would return 'saving it for him') so he just has the halo on him and everyone just "oh shit this motherfucker really could just end it all if he wanted to" but Michael just doesn't cause 'with great power holds big responsibility' type of mentality and I think it'd be funny if Lucifer confronts heaven and is in a determined search for Michael to provoke him and remind him he's still the most perfect of all God's creation (mosty just salty as hell bc Michael cast him to hell lmao) and then when he finds Michael he like comes up with a taunting comment about how bad heaven turned out to be Yada Yada that neither realm is perfect or better than the other, and BAM suddenly his eyes drifted to Michael's head and recognizes the halo.

"Is that—...!"

"Yeah," Michael simply states defeated in his chair, unfazed by his brother arrival, from all the chaos going on, his people being murder, just, done, "father's gone, Lucifer."

So they just stare at eochother in silence, Lucifer with a stunned almost hurt expression and Michael with a nonchalant one. After the realization hitting him like a truck Lucifer realizes there was no end to the chaos released to all realms after Charlie unintentionally brought it to them if God wasn't there to fix it all...

Fear overwhelming him now cause he was kinda chilled out about the whole thing knowingly God would have to intervene soon because heaven was also being attacked by evil- but now realizing he's dead, it like hits him hard, mostly worried for his daughter's fate more than anything else.

Then, another thing hits him, "wait! What aren't you doing anything?! You can fix this, Michael! You have father's power, we can-"

Michael lifts his hand to signal him to stop, "I'm not planning to do anything."

"WHAT?!! Do you realize your people are also being attacked!"

"Your daughter brought this among ourselves, now, she must find her way to solve it."

"But she won't be-"

"Silence. If she was able to bring it to us then she's more than capable of putting it back. If not, that's no longer my problem"

"YOU-!"

"No, Lucifer," he stands up, the power of God emitting through his aura, the millions of eyes on him, big six graceful wings extended to show their full on glory, eyes bright like the intensity of a star. His voice was much more deeper and cold, distant, detached, "I lost everything because of your silly dream of free will, and now redemption. Look at where it lead us, prove me wrong this time, if it doesn't succeed then it was meant to be that way. Accept your fate.

I would create something new, something different. Something that won't betray its kind. No longer you existing. It will be perfect."

Lucifer felt so tiny now. That was no longer the brother he once knew. Not the caring, gentle, protective fiercely warrior that he once was.

Only filled with rage, grief and pain.

Michael... is dead too.

But anyways with all that, somehow lets say both Charlie and Lucifer mange to remind Michael of his love for the countless souls left at his hands to care and protect. And I dunno maybe a song too ahdhdiqgsjahsia and what gets the cake is Michael seeing Adam alive, behind the two, who somewhat stumble across their intervention in a 'bad timing'.

"Hey bitch you forgot your tampon— oh shit! Wrong room," Adam (now sinner) appears at the door oblivious of the whole deal.

"Adam!" Charlie shouted annoyed as they were already, almost, having a heartfelt moment between her father and Michael.

Michael eyes watered, "ADAM!" He pushes past Charlie and Lucifer who are now just confused as fuck seeing how Michael (filled with new growing hope) crushes Adam in a big hug with all the intensity of his power and somehow it was till so gentle and careful that it didn't kill Adam.

And the first man just there struggling to get loose while also suffocating.

Idk I just like Michael still having to be the hero even in circumstances where he doesn't want to. So the universe just grants him a purpose for he to keep following up God's title for him. If he wasn't gonna do shit because he lost Adam? Then BAM! Sinner Adam is now a thing so keep your ass moving Michael!

Michael now wants to fix things up to keep Adam safe; his new purpose (reason) on protecting heaven, his people and the countless souls God left him in charge with.