#BUT THAT DOESN'T MATCH THE SPOILERS I SAW

[its-mekjt]

Favourite parts of 3×95 (potential spoilers below the break)

PART ONE

▪︎ ashley's photo of sam

▪︎ chepeku ad. could have made me think it's a perfume ad.

▪︎ ESSEK THELYSS

▪︎ they got tusk love oh my days

▪︎ WOO HOO SHOPPING EPISODE

▪︎ oh my god, having parts of fcg/things that remind them of fcg in their outfits. i'm on my floor.

▪︎ lesbians with the matching corsets. it's a canon event i fear

▪︎ i just know that armoury went out for drinks that night

▪︎ the pumats + their existential crisis

▪︎ "HIGHWAY ROBBERY" (honestly surprised they didn't try to steal it)

▪︎ sugar daddy dorian storm (and Laura's face as he hands over 2,500 gold. I can just imagine imogen going 'mhm. that's gay'.)

▪︎ do the pumat's have a soul?

▪︎ "do you want- eh we're the same."

▪︎ chetney pock o'pea. maths wizz. high school maths teachers across the world are terrified of you.

PART TWO

▪︎ essek constantly misses leg day

▪︎ 28 persuasion to make essek join their sleepover

▪︎ DORIAN WANTS TO SEE THE SHOW SO HE WILL SEE THE SHOW

▪︎ matt's description of the show. i love it.

▪︎ laudna i love you, please come to the theatre with me and tell people to, respectfully, stfu with me

▪︎ ESSEK QUOTING CADUCEUS: it's not pain that makes people. It's love (crying)

▪︎ LAUDNA QUOTING FCG: it's good to make every day a smiley day (on my bedroom floor sobbing and throwing up)

▪︎ orym keeps looking to the right. (WHO'S ON THE RIGHT. SOMEBODY PLEASE REMIND ME I DON'T REMEMBER. LIAM O'BRIEN STOP MAKING ME SCREAM INTO MY PILLOW)

▪︎ YEAH, THIEVING IS THEIR LOVE LANGUAGE (why did i think ashton was gonna go for that fucking huge sword earring from the beginning of the campaign)

▪︎ "chetney's sitting in the front row, legs out, slumping in the chair, baguette in one hand, a bottle of wine in the other. fucking riveted." (that's an insight into my daily life)

▪︎ chetney and dorian are my two personalities while i'm zoned out

▪︎ love how they all thought it was kiri (i did too)

▪︎ chetney and his delusions + cloaca

▪︎ why did i think orym was going to get in the bag of holding

▪︎ i fucking love dorian storm. you don't know how much i love him.

▪︎ "i saw my mom mess with time." essek's internal monologue must have gone insane.

▪︎ marisha and robbie casually rping arts and crafts

▪︎ "you're kind of like his dad." "do not put that on me, please."

▪︎ ashley johnson doing the lords work. thank you. (essek thelyss you simp)

▪︎ wildMOTHER

▪︎ I KNEW THIS REMINDED ME OF SOMETHING. GETTING READY FOR A CON.

▪︎ YES ANIMATE OBJECT

▪︎ dorian's face when he's introduced to patê is giving: i have never wanted to be cyrus more in my life right now.

▪︎ emotional support faun and her damaged little halfling

▪︎ 17 strength let's go (beefy boy)

▪︎ laura bailey i am making the same face as you.

▪︎ WHO WAS MAKING IT RAIN. WHO.

▪︎ OH THIS BITCH. I HATE HER (delilah briarwood)

▪︎ nervously giggling

▪︎ travis willingham is a lover and instigator of chaos.

▪︎ liam o'brien giving advice. he loves this.

▪︎ i love this. orym, if anyone comes for you, get behind me. (he doesn't know this is laudna. he thinks he's getting fucked with in the middle of the night. HE CANNOT SEE FUCKING ANYTHING).

▪︎ YEE HAW INNER PARTY CONFLICT

that's all folks.

[strangelock221b]

S3E1 (spoilers abound)

Already saw the first 5 minutes on Tudum. I'm firmly in the "Colin didn't see Penelope when he arrived, he was too busy looking at her house" camp. It's sweet that Pen as LW singles out the new debutantes and tries to prop them up.

I love that one of the debutantes is deaf, more diversity on this show is a good thing.

Ah, Francesca's been in Bath since the beginning of S2, thank you, Violet.

"If I can be at ease in the chaos of our home, surely I shall find my way in the Season." Truer words never spoken, Frannie.

Francesca's not the Diamond? WTAF?

Those fucking sheer gloves. I hate them SO MUCH. Long gloves were for modesty, making them sheer makes them pointless. Somebody fetch me the costume designer, I just want to talk.

So Eloise is already "friends" with Cressida and it looks like she is trying to protect Pen from her. We'll see how long this lasts.

Can we nominate Jessica Madsen now for the Emmy for Best Supporting Actress in a Drama Series? I always hate Cressida but if, as rumored, we're going to sympathize with her this season, then I'm sure Jessica will knock it out of the park.

I love that Violet and Kate are getting along so well. I'm also thrilled that Violet doesn't approve of Eloise being friends with Cressida.

"I will move into a dower house as soon as I find one." Oookay, 15 minutes into the first episode and we have our first error. Dower houses aren't something a dowager FINDS, it's a (relatively) smaller house on an estate that the family already HAS. What Violet is looking for is a TOWN house in London since the Bridgertons should already have a DOWER house at Aubrey Hall!

Shonda, please, hire me as a script doctor. I assure you I'm affordable.

Lady Danbury: "Lady Bridgerton." Violet and Kate: "Yes?" I love that and I'm sure Agatha did it deliberately, it's cute.

Colin, dearheart, what in the actual fuck are you doing? Flirting shamelessly is only going to get you in trouble.

Lady Cowper is a bitch but we already knew that. I wonder if she took as long as her daughter to find a husband.

Wow, Portia really has given up on Pen finding a husband. This is giving me "Like Water for Chocolate" vibes (I hated that movie, so it's not a compliment).

Error #2. Unless I'm wrong, this is Spring 1815. (According to Wikipedia, Queen Charlotte: A Bridgerton Story had Princess Charlotte dying in November 1814, three years before her real-life counterpart.) Emma wasn't published until December 1815. Yeah, we're talking about only a few months and the book does match what El is going through, but still.

Great, another El & Pen fight. El, you can pretend all you like (and you're not even doing a good job) but you are MISERABLE without your best friend. Someone El respects needs to tell her off so that she'll finally grow the fuck up.

Benedict took care of the estate while Anthony and Kate were on their honeymoon? Um, Anthony, WHY DON'T YOU HAVE A STEWARD?! You know, a person you PAY to look after the estate for you instead of asking your brother to do it for free! It gave him something to do, which I'm sure was Anthony's intention, but still!

The Mondriches have just joined the nobility! Well, their eldest son has. Oh boy, Alice is not happy. I don't blame her -- her stress level just increased a hundredfold.

I need to do a @regencyama post about titles, specifically inheriting them. With the Featheringtons and now the Mondriches having a son inheriting from his mother's bloodline, I need to emphasize how rarely this happened in real life. Good on Shonda for including the concept but really, did it have to happen twice in the same episode?

NEWTON!!! Bestest boy ever!

I know that ballroom! Lady Danbury's ballroom either is or is inspired by the Marble Hall at Kedleston. I'd know those columns and the lines of black-and-white panels anywhere.

Pen, honey, your entrance would go better if you didn't look FUCKING TERRIFIED. Albion is a sweetheart, he's the best brother-in-law for Pen (well, on her side). Oh good, she's finally smiling. Portia! How can you think that's a bad color for her? Is she a little color blind? That would explain SO MUCH.

Suddenly get thirsty there, Colin? LOL He has no idea what's coming.

Some of the (presumably) eligible men are finally noticing Pen. How long before Colin steps in? Oh, Pen, you are so awkward around people you don't know well, glad to see that hasn't changed (yet).

El and Cressida talking to some of the new debutantes while Pen is still being awkward with the men. Forget flirting lessons, she doesn't even know how to just talk to men. And El, lowkey making fun of Miss Hartigan for liking embroidery. Grow up, El. At least this girl is true to herself, unlike someone I could name.

Fife is giving off the CREEPIEST vibes as he talks to poor Frannie. What do you bring to the table, good sir? A title? Look around -- titles are a dime a dozen. Surely you can do better than that.

That's what sets Fran off? This scene was one the clips that Netflix released early. I assume the gentlemen had said something offensive but they simply asked her who she is beyond her hobbies. Well, she has been doing nothing but practicing the pianoforte for what, two years now? Maybe she feels there really isn't much to her than that. Well, she's what, 17 now? She's got plenty of time to find herself.

I love how sympathetic and sweet Pen and Frannie are to each other. They're like sisters already.

Cressida with a steel chair! Seriously, there would be a small room off the ballroom reserved just for mending dresses -- tears happened all the time, as well as melted wax dripping from the candles in the chandeliers, spills, etc. But back to Cressida -- she must think very lowly of herself if she truly cannot abide any competition at all.

Too little, too fucking late, El. Choke on your apology, it's neither needed nor wanted. (I love El but haven't liked her for a long time, if that makes sense.)

Another scene Netflix gave us early -- Pen confronting Colin about what he said about her the end of S2. She was already having a bad night and Colin being all smiles was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Uh oh, Pen's writing a new LW column without even getting changed first. Honey, you're writing this in anger, you're probably going to regret at least half of it.

Portia's sweating now with that phony document about the title being questioned. Oh, this guy is threatening her, in that so very English way.

Ooo, are we finally seeing the real Cressida?

A whispering bench! Sorry, I have the tiniest landscaping nerd inside me.

Looks like Kanthony will have a three-month-old with them the beginning of the next Season.

Colin comes the morning after to apologize. Good boy. Still clueless, but good boy.

The Mondriches at their new house and their eldest boy is addressed as Lord Kent. I'm horrible at guessing children's ages but I think this kid is a preteen at most and his life just changed forever.

I will say the portrait of Edmund and Violet is very good. (I assume it's an actual painting and not a photo that has undergone Photoshop or whatever.) Have the writers made Francesca aro? Or at least demisexual? It'll be interesting to see where this goes.

I fucking told you you'd regret that column, Pen. The funny part is that she's not wrong about Colin, but she's certainly not nice about it.

Colin, for fuck's sake, MARINA AND ELOISE RUINED THEMSELVES! If LW hadn't said anything, things actually would have gone a lot worse for Marina, El, your whole family, and especially you, so shut the fuck up.

Four whole minutes of end credits, seriously?

Well, that was certainly an interesting start to both the Season and the season.

[kingsofgaytham]

i have finished my ofmd rewatch and yes i'm happy i did it cause my love for this show and its cast grew even more since i noticed so many tiny details or background subplots i missed the first time, the whole cravat exchange between Stede and Ed...but now my heart breaks even more for them, especially poor Edward, manipulated by Izzy and pushed to his limits where he once again puts on the persona he detests but this time he's also mourning the life he already envisioned in his head with Stede :((((

their reunion is gonna be so emotional and i hope by the end of season 2 we get to see Ed embrace his true desires (like soft, silk clothes and eating marmalade at the sunrise with his dumb boyfriend) and i'm excited for Stede to finally experience mutual love, not an empty spectacle put on for the society even tho he really needs to work on his thinking and communication skills cause this whole drama could've been avoided if he told Ed he wants to fix things with his family first ANYWAY i'm sure s2 will make me cry and laugh and scream and i can't wait 💜

[welcometoteyvat]

yoimiya 2nd story quest ?!?!?!?!

[ren1327]

Hazbin Hotel Ep.8 SPOILERS

HE DID IT! MY BOI DID IT!!

Not only was Sir Pentious redeemed...he, a mortal soul, a sinner, is a Seraphim!!!!

Quick Edit: I'm mostly probably wrong about the Seraphim thing but I'm going off a few ideas.

1. No St. Peter and the gate. Just reformed in the presence of the other Seraphim.

2. The color scheme matches Lucifer more, so I'm thinking "higher angelic being".

3. My Ace in the hole is...and I checked on Wikipedia to be safe, I have no bibles, Seraphim are depicted as "flying asps". Flying snakes.

That's how Pen died. As a flying snake. So. With that and the audacity to dream, I believe Sir Pentious is a Seraphim.

I know he doesn't have his wings...yet.

We saw Vaggie gain her wings back through love. Perhaps the love he used to sacrifice himself with manifest into them.

Or he's the hottest cherub in Heaven. Either way.

[luveline]

𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨'𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

you and miguel have different definitions of the same word. he finally gives in to temptation —featuring a cranky but lovesick miguel and a flirty, head-in-the-clouds spider-girl. pre across the spider-verse but contains spoilers. requested here. fem!reader, 3k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

This has to be your favourite song in the whole world. 

You sit in the hall beside the entrance to Miguel's office (this week, you're thinking you might call it The Bedroom, on account of all the magic happening inside), headphones on, a bottle of lemonade beside you. 

Today has the makings of a great day. You're at the Spider Society headquarters and not at home, for starters, and one of the Peter Parkers you'd made friends with in the med-wing saw you this morning and recognised you, which is brilliant because he looked super similar to every other Peter Parker you've met. He offered to help you fix your rinky-dink headphones, and now they're working again and loud enough to cover the sound of Spider Chatter, even with your enhanced senses. 

What's more, Miguel has finally emerged from his dormitory, and he's walking toward you looking confused. That's a step up from unhappy. 

He asks you something. 

"What? I can't hear you." 

He says something else. You shake your head, music too loud to catch even a hint of what he's saying, and Miguel eventually crouches down to push your headphones around your neck. He's surprisingly gentle. 

"What are you doing?" he asks. 

"Waiting for you, what did you think I was doing?" 

"Why are you sitting on the ground?" He gestures backward to a red-lit control panel. "Chair right there." 

"I think that's someone's desk." 

"It's really not." 

Miguel stands up and doesn't hesitate to grab your arms and help you up too. It means more to you than it should, because it's not necessary and a few months ago he wouldn't have bothered. Which isn't to imply that Miguel is a mean guy, Lyla says he used to be a loser (code for sweetheart), and you get flashes of it every now and then in chivalry and kind smiles. 

He's not mean, he's cranky. 

"Don't sit on the floor," he says. "Just– just go inside if I'm not here." 

"Well, The Bedroom doesn't come when I call." 

Miguel's lips part in confusion for a second. Lyla appears at his shoulder, and says, "She can't get the platform to come down without you, genius." 

"Put her name on the command list," Miguel says. 

Your eyes widen. Lyla flashes to his other side, closer to you, and smiles playfully. "Done." 

"Stop sitting on the floor," Miguel says, turning around. He walks a few steps and pauses when he realises you're not following. "Are you coming with me?" 

You jog to catch up with him. Music plays against your collar, a slinking, indie sound that makes Miguel wrinkle his nose. You turn it up a little bit and smile when he glares at you. 

You enter the atrium that houses The Bedroom. Miguel hops up onto the platform because he's too tall to see sense while you struggle, but you're pleased when he takes your hand and pulls you up properly. All these familiar touches today, anyone might think Miguel liked you. 

He definitely does. 

You sit down in the spinning chair near what you've decided is your desk but certainly isn't, again pleased beyond words when you find your sketchbook from last time still there, cleaned away carefully, pencils in a pot and a brand new pencil sharpener by the side of it. It matches your spider suit. You look over your shoulder, your face lit up with thanks, and Miguel swiftly looks away from you. 

"It's electric. Tell me when the battery's dead, I'll charge it." 

"Thank you," you say, flipping your sketchbook open to the last entry. 

You aren't Picasso, but most members of the Spider Society are somewhat artistically inclined, considering the suit-making rite of passage they must all endure —if you don't know how to sew before you start, you will by the end. 

Or like Miguel, you could cheat and make the suit out of nanotechnology. 

You haven't really been designing any suits lately. Spidering is tiring, you need to relax, and your reluctant friends are the easiest subjects, though Miguel's face is painstakingly difficult to get right. He's very angular, high cheekbones with that divot that needs kissing stat, and his nose… He's really pretty, but you almost wish he wasn't so your sketches of him held a better likeness. 

He's the only one of the regular crew that stands still long enough to be drawn. Jessica doesn't like you (or maybe she does, it's hard to tell, but she hasn't forgiven you for asking if her baby was like a maraca bead when she fights) so she doesn't let you draw her. Lyla will stand very still if you request it, but after a few portraits she got bored and started changing her hair or glasses, and after a few more she gave up. Margo is hard to focus on because her blue light makes everything else seem super orange, though she does stand in one place usually. She takes up a lot of pages, but it's Miguel you've drawn most of all. 

You go around the Spider Society sometimes asking people if they'll sit for you, but again your skills aren't impressive, so it's awkward when they want to see how you've done. There are drawings of all kinds of Spiders, including yourself, between Miguel, and Miguel, and Miguel. 

His back, the side of his face, his hands ungloved. His pointy bottom teeth mid fight. The naked stretch of his arm and his Rapture injector positioned over it. He might not appreciate that one. You rip it out and toss it in the waste paper basket under your desk, where it incinerates, paper smoke curling up toward the extractor fan on the atrium ceiling. 

"What are you doing?" he asks without looking at you, his gaze on one of his marigold coloured monitors. 

"Drawing." You're not drawing so much as sitting there with a coloured pencil in hand, trying to think of conversation starters. "What are you upto?" 

"According to the program, there are no Canon events today at risk of disruption," Lyla chimes in, "so Miguel's doing chores." 

"What, not one bad thing is gonna happen today?" you ask. 

"Nothing we can predict," Miguel says. 

You swap your pencil for your drink, unscrewing the lid of your lemonade to sip at it leisurely. Today is your favourite kind of day. No fighting, lots of time with Miguel, and music to go with it. You're so happy you could melt. 

Miguel turns to you and sees your stickying smile. 

"What?" 

"Nothing. Just happy to be here with you," you say.

"Don't say stuff like that," he says, turning back to his screen. 

"Scared you'll actually experience sincerity?" Lyla asks. 

"Lyla," he warns, as though Lyla might be afraid of any consequence he had the power to inflict. 

"Sorry," you say, not very sorry, but not wanting him to be uncomfortable, "it's just nice, being friends with you."

"We aren't friends." 

You're not quick to take offence with Miguel. He can be cruel. He's hurting, he's unhappy, he has a lot on his plate. Oftentimes he's so tense with apprehension his neck locks up and you hear it clicking as he turns one way or another, or if he isn't apprehensive he's disappointed, furious, upset. You give him the benefit of the doubt because you know him, but you don't know the tone of voice he uses now. It's like he's offended at the insinuation. Like he would never, ever be friends with you. 

You put your lemonade on the desk and don't know what to do. His insipid floating platform is too high now to leave without causing a scene. Maybe when he's busy you can web down and go home. All you know is that you desperately don't want to be near him. But home sucks, and the dormitories are worse. You're stuck. 

"You can be so mean," you say softly, turning back to your sketchbook and pencils. 

You're thinking you might draw him with a bunch of bee stings, or find a previous sketch and cross his eyes out.

"What?" he asks. 

Your hackles rise. "You're mean. Don't talk to me." 

"What?" Miguel stands very still. "Y/N, what?" 

"What do you mean, what? I said something nice and you said something cruel. I get it, okay, we aren't friends, so don't talk to me." 

"I've upset you." 

You stare at your blank page. "It doesn't matter." 

"No, I've said the wrong thing." 

"Miguel, don't bother. What else could you mean by that?" You laugh with little humour. Crestfallen doesn't begin to describe how you feel. "I'll be quiet. I just don't want to be at home." 

"What's wrong with home?" 

"Is there ever much right?" 

"Did something happen?"

"We aren't friends, so why ask me?" 

You bite the inside of your lip as Miguel approaches, his footfall hushed over the lightweight metal flooring. You turn to him in your chair, head tilted back to meet his eyes, arms crossed over your stomach defensively. 

"That's not what I meant when I said that." He speaks slowly, firmly, to avoid any misunderstanding. "What's wrong with home, mi cielo?" 

You tap his ankle with your shoe, looking away from his gaze. You don't want to tell him, and if he keeps looking at you like that, you will.

"¿Qué pasó?" He bends at the waist slightly, bringing his face closer to yours, dark hair falling into his eyes.

"I don't know what that means," you murmur.

"Did something happen?" he asks.

"Nothing happened, it's just– it's lonely there," you say, squirming under the weight of his gaze, his sudden caring. "What's with you? One minute you're not my friend, the next you're worrying about me? You're giving me whiplash." 

He stands up, and his face falls back into a more typical emotionlessness. He's clearly feeling something, but he's wiping the slate clean. 

"When I said we aren't friends, it didn't mean–" He grunts, crossing his arms over his chest. "I thought you were staying in the women's dormitory?" he asks, frustrated.  

"I am, but I'm useless, and they don't really respect me because I'm–" 

"Eccentric?" 

"–not as experienced," you finish, eyes flaring. 

"Oh, my god," Lyla says, appearing in front of him to make sure he sees her delight at his slip up. 

Miguel bats her hologram with an annoyed grunt. She disappears again, her tinkling laughter cut short.

"It's a good thing," Miguel says quickly.

You stand up. "It's not the point." 

"You should feel at home in the dormitory, and if you don't, I'll find you somewhere else to stay here, you don't have to be in there if you don't feel welcome."

"Miguel, you're sounding awfully friendly right now." 

"We aren't friends," he says again, stepping closer to you. "What's so hard to understand about that?" 

"But we spend time together. We have fun. You like me, Miguel, you do, you tell me jokes sometimes, you make me things for me. You… you do like me, right?" 

"You know that I do," he says, his eyebrows pinching together. 

"You like me, like, you want me," you say, just to make sure.

His fist clenches hard enough to make an audible sound. Miguel's voice is fraught, and through barely parted lips, "If you know that, what's the problem?" 

You don't know. Maybe it was silly to worry about how he sees you, because you do know that Miguel likes you, but you also know he hadn't wanted to like you. His attraction to you was reluctant, you're not stupid enough to miss that, and it was important to you that whatever tension sexual or otherwise lingering between you had bloomed into mutual affection. 

"I want us to be friends, too," you say. 

"I thought we were more than that." 

It's such a quiet admission. He isn't afraid to say it, and he isn't reluctant like you feared. 

"Miguel," you say. "I want you to like me. I know I can be off-putting, I know I tease too much, but I don't want you to like me despite those things, I just want you to like me. So, when you say we aren't friends…" 

"I've never heard you say three serious sentences in a row," Miguel says, reaching out for your hand. He pulls you toward him slowly, his fingertips gliding up the length of your arm. "Then again, it's the same nonsense as usual." 

"Miguel–" 

"Of course I like you. How else do you need me to say it? I like you and I want to kiss you, I like you and I like that you're irregular. You want us to be friends? Then let's be friends." Miguel's hand closes around your bicep. His thumb presses against soft fat and muscle alike. "But not just friends." 

Relieved, you sigh. "So you're saying we really weren't friends?" 

Miguel leans down until his face is the only thing you can see. His smooth skin, his dark eyes, their darker flush of too-long lashes; it's unfair how pretty his eyelashes are, how they curl, how they bunch in triangles you have to fight to resist touching. His eyebrows so often slightly set, giving him an unhappy expression even now. 

He brings the hand that isn't clasped at your bicep to the hill of your waist. It's hot as a brand, and it pulls you closer, your neck craning with every inch he steals from between you. 

"We can be friends," he says. 

His fingers twitch against your arm, and his hand begins to climb. It's not as slow as it feels, conquering the curve of your shoulder, your neck. His hand is big, his thumb pressing into the column of your throat gently.

He looks at you for a measured lapse of time, and you know, finally, that you're on the same page. 

"What you said before, 'mi cielo?'" You hold his elbow. "What does that mean?" 

"My sky," he says. "My… my heavens. It's saccharine. It's something teenagers say, when they're," —his voice dips, the hand at your waist squeezing tight like you might slip through his hold—  "infatuated." 

"Just teenagers say that?" you ask.

"No," he allows. "I always thought it was too much." 

"But you–" 

"Yeah. I did." 

The first kiss is surprisingly sweet. On the tail end of words, Miguel presses his lips half-parted to yours, slowly, softly, like the brush of a downy feather. He lingers, and it's your own movement that spurs him on —you shudder up into his lips and he loses control. 

The sound he makes is a shock. You try to pull back to check he isn't hurting, and he lets you until he realises why it is you're pulling away. "It's fine, it's okay," he says quickly. 

Assuaged of your concern, he pulls you back in and he kisses you, he kisses you, his hand squeezing too tight and his nose bridge sliding up against yours from the force of it all. Your chest feels like a pit and you need Miguel closer if you're ever going to fill it, your hands snapping up to his face like magnets. There's no need to pull him down to you, he's already wading in, not wading —crashing, kissing you so hard your lips burn. 

You make a sound that says, hopefully, This is really fun, but don't give me a bruise.

His tongue is a heat at the seam of your lips. Your weight bends, your chest leaning into his front. He doesn't hesitate to ease his hand behind your back and prop you up against him as things get heady, and the only thing you can feel is him. 

All those times he almost kissed you, all those times he couldn't cross the gap. He poked and prodded and provoked you into getting into his space and each time you called his bluff. You wanted Miguel to give in, and now he has, it's the meltiest, most stickying warmth you've ever felt. 

Voices sound far away, off the platform and down the hall. Jessica and someone else, approaching fast. 

Something sharp snags your bottom lip as Miguel pulls away. You press your finger to your sore lip. When you pull it away, blood spots your skin. 

Miguel takes your face into his hand and angles your face to a glowing screen carefully, in total juxtaposition of the grip he'd had on your waist. 

"Sorry," he mumbles, the tip of his fangs catching the light. His adrenaline must be high. 

"Excited?" you ask him breathily. 

He wipes your lip with his thumb. The other hand pet's your cheek. You feel suddenly and smotheringly adored, all his attention on your pinprick wound. 

"Everything okay up there?" Jessica calls. 

Miguel drops your face like he's remembered himself. You turn to your newfound company, Jessica Drew and an unhappy looking Gwen Stacy. This high up, there's no way they can see the state of either of you, mussed hair and Miguel's blushy cheeks, but they'll see you eventually. And Miguel might like you, might want you, might be your more-than-friend, but he's a stickler for appearances, and being found kissing your subordinate dizzy when you're supposed to be working would mortify him.

"I cut my lip on a lemonade bottle," you call cheerily, waving at grumpy Gwen. Her lips perk up. "Miguel's trying to tell me it's my fault. Is lemonade usually sharp?" 

His hand flattens subtly at the small of your pack. 

"Thanks," he murmurs. 

"Welcome, handsome. Is it bad?" you ask, turning back to hip with your lip pouted. 

His eyes visibly soften at the sight of you. "Not that bad." 

"Alright, good. You'll have to let the platform down, I need to go." 

"What? Where are you going?" he asks. 

"If we're friends now," you say, lilting, performing a half spin in front of him just to watch his eyes narrow, "I'm going to have to make us bracelets. Friendship bracelets." He clearly doesn't like the idea of being friends still, so you amend with a softer tone, "Friends and whatever that was. Come on, you'll love it. I'll make it match your suit." 

He rubs the space between his eyebrows. 

"Will you bring your stuff here?" he asks, the platform beginning to lower under your feet. 

"Duh. I need to take lots of measurements. I'll be in your hair all day, you'll hate it." 

He nods like he agrees. "I'll hate it," he says, deadpan. When he's sure Jessica and Gwen aren't looking, he gives you a smile you've never seen before. 

You and I have a secret, it says. 

Lyla appears by your shoulder to instantly tell him otherwise. It goes without saying that she's mildly disgusted and extremely smug. "Don't match it to his suit, Y/N. Mr. Heartthrob here needs something soft. How about some baby pinks, hm?" 

Miguel sighs, but you barely hear him over your excited gasp. "Yes! Pink and white, for sure, that would be so nice." 

"Great," Miguel says. "Perfect. Thanks for that, Lyla."

"You're so welcome!" 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed :D please reblog if you have the time ♡

[1d1195]

Ding - Round 2

Read Ding here | ~6.2 k words

WARNING/spoiler there's a scummy guy in this part that tries to be forceful with our MC to go with him back to his place when she doesn't want to. Nothing will happen and nothing will be described in detail but be kind to your mind and heart ♥, trauma, anxiety, pining, and fluff.

From me: I actually know VERY little about boxing and even less about throwing a punch. I do however feel I'm well-versed in sprinkles so do with that what you will. Some parts of this got a little away from me again. I hope you like it 💕

Summary: Harry and Cupcake are both really busy and haven't seen each other in two months. But when Cupcake gets into trouble, she has no choice but to run into Harry.

Harry learned to fight when he was ten years old. He didn’t have his dad around much to teach him. Mum and Gemma may as well have been pacifists and as such, they weren’t much help when it came to defending himself. Harry watched his little girl friends get teased by boys. The same boys that told him he was weird for liking girls when they had cooties. Even if he didn’t (always) like them like that and was just merely defending them. Mum and Gemma may have been pacifists, but they taught Harry to be a respectful young boy. Especially toward girls.

One too many mouthfuls of sand at recess was enough to make him finally do something about it. He was angry. Angry because the girls didn’t like him because he was a boy (although they tolerated him since he was protecting them). Angry none of the boys in his class wanted to be friends with him because he was being nice to girls filled with cooties. Angry that he didn’t have a dad to teach him how to be a boy’s boy.

For a ten-year-old, he was really angry.

Mum took him to a gym—an introductory class to kickboxing. Just to get some of his anger out in an appropriate manner (and so he wouldn’t be sent to the principal’s office during recess again). Harry took a liking to the punching bag. He cried the first time he used it with the help of an older kid who was helping him learn to punch the right way. The poor teen watching him get so frustrated that his punches and kicks weren’t landing right—even though it was his very first time throwing a punch—saw something in him. Alerted his boss, encouraged Harry, worked with Harry every time he came in. He was a great mentor and even though he left only a couple years after meeting Harry to go to university and all that, Harry was forever grateful.

His first amateur match was at fifteen. Then there were only ten rounds at most, and he won by a landslide in five. By then he met Louis—someone who saw the same thing that teen kid saw in him and offered to be his manager. It wasn’t anything serious at the time. Harry was still in school and only using his time after school to get better at boxing. Louis was only a few years ahead but knew enough to help him be great.

By the time he turned eighteen, he had won three state-titles and people were watching him. At least in a way that those who cared about boxing did. Throughout university he trained and got better and won more and more.

Now Harry was twenty-five. He had to be nearing at least a hundred thousand punches since he was ten—eitherthrowing them at someone or at least in training against the punching bag he loved so much. Maybe more. He couldn’t even begin to think or count how he would figure out that number. Harry’s whole life was training, working, and fighting.

The only joys he had outside of boxing were his car and the sweet little niece that Gemma had kindly brought into his life—but that was only a recent change.

Only one other very recent change had left him a bit tongue-tied and flustered. Harry didn’t get flustered. Not since he was ten and knew he could beat the crap out of someone. There was no ringing bell to prepare him to make eye contact with a complete stranger and just feel like he had never ever felt before.

Was it love? Who could say, really. Harry had never loved anyone in his life that wasn’t his family or his friends. It made his stomach flutter like the first time he fought in a ring for something other than a trophy. A mere two hundred dollars on the line, all to get punched a whole bunch of times. Now he was still getting punched a few times over for a decent amount of money, but the thought of that pretty girl and her sprinkles made him unbelievably excited. Knowing she was there really made him feel different.

He knew next to nothing about her, but he was certain he was going to fall for her given half a chance. Even if she gave him a half a chance—a quarter!—he would do everything he could to have her in his life. If anyone else had damaged his car, he might have lost his shit, but there was something about her kind face, her doe-eyed expression in the rainy lamplight that made him rethink his entire life in the span of twenty seconds.

But whatever it was that he felt for her, he knew it started with her ringside. Beside his best friend waiting for the end of the fight that never seemed to end.

Normally, Harry’s matches finished in an average of nine rounds. But he was seated in the corner, sipping water like a hamster from the bottle, while Louis put Vaseline on his face where the cut on his eyebrow split between the tenth and the eleventh. “How you doing?”

“Is she impressed?” He asked.

“Who?”

“Cupcake. She’s sitting next t’Niall,” he was breathing heavy. Good as he was, it took a lot of energy to punch someone for a half hour as it was.

“Who?” Louis repeated, then thought better of it. He shook his head in frustration. “Can you focus on what you’re doing, Harold?!”

Louis didn’t get it. Harry rolled his eyes and sighed. To be fair, she was probably the reason it was taking longer than normal. Not that he minded. As long as she was impressed by the end, of course. Harry was on his feet, shadowboxing briefly with Louis, that boyish smile on his face. “What the fuck is your issue?” Louis hissed at him. “You’re acting like a lunatic!”

It seemed like a cliché to say he was in love, so he refrained from doing so. He felt it spared Louis further frustration as well. Cupcake, Cupcake, Cupcake. It was the only thing his brain could think. Fortunately, the bell rang, signaling the beginning of the next round and knocked a bit of the sense back in his head that had floated away from him on the thoughts of the pretty girl nearby.

His opponent was just as tired (although Harry believed his opponent was more so) as himself. He could see the exhaustion setting in as he held his gloves up near his face blocking a few jabs Harry threw to get the excitement of the new round going. He was waiting, searching, nearly taunting for a window of opportunity. Right as his opponent swung aiming for his face, Harry dodged his punch; smirking as he did. A blinding weak spot, his guard was down for only a fraction of a second but that was all Harry needed.

Poor guy didn’t stand a chance.

Ding.

*

Harry looked like he was going to fall asleep sitting there in the bakery kitchen. He was a bit cut up; his eyebrow, the corner of his mouth, and his cheekbone had little cuts. Soothed with Vaseline, but it didn’t seem to bother him. His eyes were droopy. “Is Niall still around to drive you home?” She asked.

He shook his head. “I can drive,” he murmured.

He wasn’t really looking at her, but her look and tone screamed skeptical. “You look too tired to drive.”

“Mm,” he hummed. She was busy bustling back and forth through the kitchen. Cupcakes were in the oven. She only made a dozen, but Harry didn’t seem to notice it was a small amount. He was sitting at the big table in the middle of the kitchen. A seat dragged in from the office. She had her laptop open in her office running the report she needed while Harry held his head propped in one hand. She busied herself with prepping dough for scones and pastries while Harry tried not to loll off to sleep. She smirked at him.

“I could call you an Uber if you wanted,” she offered. “You don’t need to stay with me.”

His eyes were hardly open. “I’ll get a second wind in a minute,” he yawned. “S’jus’ the adrenaline wearing off,” he explained.

“Does that hurt?” She asked gesturing to the cuts on his (otherwise really perfect) face.

He shook his head. “Stings a little.”

“Will you be sore tomorrow?”

“A little. Stiff really... Why y’want t’give me a massage, kitten?” He smiled flirtatiously. Maybe she should have felt uncomfortable, alone with a man she only just met. But honestly, she thought Niall might be her new best friend and if Niall could vouch for Harry, then she wasn’t all that worried about him. Regardless of him knocking out his opponent with one punch. Truthfully, it was nice of her to walk her to the bakery. It was later than she expected and while the town they lived in was pretty safe, the college safety tips of never walking alone flooded her mind each time she did walk alone. She blushed at his forward assumption, but fortunately she was prepping something and stuffing it in the fridge, so he didn’t get to see. Plus, his exhaustion probably made him even flirtier.

“Thanks for being m’good luck charm, Cupcake,” he murmured sleepily.

“I didn’t know you didn’t need one.”

“Can never have too much luck.”

She smiled, continuing her prepping quietly. Harry watched her for a while. Eventually, his arm dropped to the table, and he rested his head on it. After another moment, a soft snore escaped his lips, and she smiled a little brighter. Only for herself, really, since Harry was asleep. She continued working. She was used to late nights. Maybe he really was going to get a second wind—honestly, she couldn’t imagine boxing and punching someone for almost forty-five minutes with only one-minute breaks in between rounds. Sometimes while she was baking, she would try to do other tasks while the timer counted down to take the treats out of the oven. It always surprised her how long and how short a minute could feel in the same breath.

But while she worked, she was mindful to not make too many loud noises. Harry needed sleep it seemed. She prepped for nearly an hour while waiting for the cupcakes to cool long enough to scoop out the middle and fed the sugary raspberry filling into the empty space. Frosting a dozen cupcakes took all but ten minutes then she packaged them in two half-dozen plastic containers with A Pinch of Sprinkles label taping it shut. Gently, she put her hand on his upper arm, and she really shouldn’t have been so surprised by how taut his bicep was beneath her hand, but she was. He was unbelievably strong, and she was in slight awe and shock of touching him—and he wasn’t even flexing. But rather than be creepy, she gave him a gentle shake. “Hey, Harry... Uh...it’s late. I’m gonna get going,” her voice was soft.

Harry startled almost jumping out of his seat and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. “Sorry, sorry. Wow,” he turned his neck to the left and then right. “M’sorry I dozed off there.”

She shrugged. “Probably needed it,” she assured him with a gentle smile. She pushed the dozen cupcakes forward, across the table. “For you.”

He blinked then looked up at her. “Did you make these for—”

“Well, yes, I made them. You were unbelievably kind to me even though I dented Clay. Plus, you won so it’s like a job well done, you know?”

“You made me cupcakes,” he repeated, his gaze unmoving from her face.

“We really need to work out this whole repeating what the other one says thing,” she felt her cheeks warm as he stared at her, but she smiled, only feeling slightly awkward.

He turned his attention to the two plastic boxes and tilted his head at them. They were identical. His fascination with her precision was immense. “What kind are they?”

“The raspberry filled ones. You said you liked them.”

His gaze went right back to her, and he felt hungry, but not for cupcakes.

Well, at least not the baked good kind of cupcake.

“Thank you, Cupcake. That was sweet of you. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

Her smile seemed to transcend to a feeling of relief. “Not even a little...um... I just have to grab a couple things. Would you... mind walking me to my car? Unless you need to leave right now. I know it’s crazy late. I’ll be okay. I walk to my car on my own usually but it’s always a little creepy. But I feel bad I made you—”

“’Course m’gonna walk you t’your car,” he rolled his eyes. “Besides I don’t want you t’ding Clay again,” he winked to ensure she knew he was kidding. Because yes, he loved his car.

But rapidly, when it came to her, the car didn’t matter in the slightest.

*

She hadn’t seen Harry in two months.

It wasn’t like she was avoiding him. Part of her knew he was a mere social media friend request away. In fact, she was trying her hardest to not stare at the pictures of him on social media, the PR plug for his matches, and all the things that she saw Niall, Louis, and all his other friends shared. But she didn’t want to come off too forward. It seemed weird to be so into a man she only talked to for no longer than ten minutes total.

Besides...she had her routines. Work, family, and more work.

Also, if Harry was really infatuated with her the way Niall alluded to, he knew where her bakery was—he easily could come and find her here. But she did notice there was a tag to her shop on Instagram with raspberry filled cupcakes in the picture. (All it would take is for her to press the Follow button and wait.) While she didn’t know Harry all that well, she assumed he was probably just as busy. Her brief cyber-stalking showed that Harry was often at the gym—although she wasn’t sure which one. He was also an amazing uncle. That much was clear. It warmed her heart, and she would never want to tear Harry away from that kind of time. Family was extremely important to her. She wholeheartedly understood how much his free time was probably monopolized by the little baby.

But it was so strange that she didn’t know him yet there was some part of her that wanted to see him. It was bizarre. She never got all up and arms about a guy. There was work and there was her family. That was it. That was all she could afford to balance. She didn’t need a guy to mess with her routines or upset the balance of her life.

However, every time she walked alone to her car at night now, she wished that Harry was with her to assure her safety—even though she had done it hundreds of times before. The night they met, he walked her in silence, opened her door and made sure she was safely tucked inside. “Good night, Cupcake,” he smiled almost dreamily.

“Good night, Harry. Congratulations,” she responded with a smile too.

Harry’s smile grew and he looked away briefly before patted the top of her car and turned to Clay, put his cupcakes on the passenger seat and moved to the driver’s side. He gave her a wave and pulled out of his parking spot.

It was two months ago.

But after just one month, it was hard to deny she didn’t miss him.

That had to mean something. Just one brief night—not even a date. Most of that night was spent with Harry in the ring or asleep at her kitchen table. Hell, she got to know Niall more that night. But it was Harry’s smile that plagued her thought—crooked and perfect. The way his eyes glittered as he convinced her to follow him with a picture of his niece.

“Are you baking something in here or burning in here?” Maeve asked.

Maeve was her best employee—her right hand nearly every day. More importantly, her best friend. Shaking her head of the thoughts surrounding Harry, she sighed and turned to the oven where her fudge brownies were surely overdone. “Shit,” she whispered.

“I don’t think you’ve ever burned anything. Are you okay?” Maeve asked gently. It was a loaded question. It took a lot of time to dig the answer out of her friend, but Maeve did. She knew asking if she was okay was probably the wrong thing to say.

But if it was, she didn’t mind. Of course she didn’t. Her very best friend was sweeter than all the treats in the display case. “Just a little distracted,” she mumbled grabbing the tray and setting it in the sink to cool off (and hopefully so she didn’t have to scrape the bottom of the tray later).

“Harry on your brain?” Maeve giggled.

She rolled her eyes but felt the way her cheeks warmed at Maeve’s (correct) assumption. Maeve was shocked to learn that her strong-willed friend was convinced by a stranger to go see a boxing match. She couldn’t believe it. Granted, once she saw the picture of Harry, she couldn’t disagree. I think I would let him punch me in the face if he wanted to.

She decided keeping Maeve as far away from Harry as possible was probably necessary.

Rarely did she and Maeve work together. As her best employee and best friend, it was like asking her to hold her child when Maeve was on shift. There was no one she trusted more. So, when Maeve wasn’t there, she often was and vice versa. But every so often, usually at the shift change, Maeve got to see her best friend in her element. “Well, the good news is, you can go think of him at home,” she winked at her.

She didn’t even look at her. “You’re disgusting,” she deadpanned.

Maeve snorted. “That’s not even what I was insinuating. Your mind went directly to the gutter. Good for you. I bet he thinks about you while he’s doing it too.”

“Jesus Christ,” she was blushing brightly now. “I just want to fix the display case and then I’ll go.”

“Any fun plans for tonight?”

She hesitated briefly. “Uh yeah...actually. I have a date,” she mumbled.

“Oh!” It was silent for a long beat. Rarely did she go on dates. There were only a few since she moved into town three years ago. Mostly because the bakery took up so much of her free time. The remaining bit of time she had and didn’t go on dates was because of the guilt she felt. Maeve’s surprise was palpable. It made her cheeks turn pink and she bit the inside of her cheek. “Good,” Maeve smiled encouragingly. “Online?” She asked.

She nodded. “We’ve been messaging back and forth for like...” she shrugged. “Two weeks.”

“Are you excited?”

No. “Yes,” she sighed softly. “Been a while,” she smirked. There was a huge part of her brain that told her she didn’t want to go because it wasn’t Harry. It was like a neon sign had been posted in her frontal lobe reminding her that it was pointless to even consider this date. She should have just requested to follow Harry and be done with it—he would probably drop everything if she asked him on a date. “Just...nervous.”

“It’ll be good!” Maeve said reassuringly. “Share your location with me and text me when you get to where you’re sleeping,” she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

“I will be sleeping at home,” she promised snorting through her laugh at her best friend.

Maeve smiled heading to the front and leaving her to finish with her burned brownies.

*

The front of the bakery was dark in color; she was aiming for warmth. The floors and baseboards were dark walnut brown. It contrasted sharply with the wall she wall-papered by hand with a white and brown marble pattern behind the display cases. It made the black chalkboard menus with the same walnut brown frames stand out. The lights were always set to dim when they were on. Her goal was to recreate the feeling of her childhood home—particularly the den where her father set up the most beautiful Christmases. The bakery lacked a fireplace (she joked with Maeve that it was an oven or a fireplace, and the oven did a better job at cooking croissants evenly).

The front of the bakery wasn’t massive. There were five little tables to sit and enjoy their treats if people wanted but it was really a grab and go kind of place. The back had more treats stored so the main room didn’t look overwhelming. The front display cases still contained more treats than anyone could think of eating. I wish I could buy one of everything was heard frequently from the line. Eventually she wanted to invest in coffee but for the time being she liked just her treats and was happy to recommend the coffee place down the road. If she ever got a hold of more space, then she would consider buying all the machines for coffee.

The bakery was honestly warmest when it was rainy. Which was frequent. She was reorganizing the main cupcake display, a tower of three tiers with one of each type of cupcake she made. The raspberry filled cupcake was the one that had been on top for the last two months. Each time it was bought, she replaced it with another. While people raved about her brownies, cakes, and even the croissants, it was the cupcakes that people came for; and so, she took care of the display as much as possible.

“Which one do you recommend?” She turned to the voice and saw a mom and little girl waiting patiently. She smiled fondly.

“Raspberry filled,” she pulled it from the top tier and handed it over. “Try it,” she offered.

“Oh, we don’t want to get you in trouble,” the mom said quickly while her daughter grabbed for it almost immediately.

She laughed. “Don’t worry, I know the owner,” she promised. “Maeve! I’m leaving!” She called but was delighted by the little girl’s approval. Silence, cake and filling on her cheeks immediately, and a delightful look in her eye.

“Have fun!” She called back.

“Enjoy the cupcakes. I also like the lemon vanilla ones.”

“I think raspberry filled is the winner,” the mom smiled.

She nodded, unable to keep herself from grinning back. “A fan favorite.”

*

She should have stayed home. The bad weather should have been an omen. But maybe it wouldn’t have been because she met Harry in bad weather, and everything was fine that night. It soured her mood and made her feel infinitely worse to think about the comparison.

I’m home. Not a great date. I’ll tell you later. She wished she had gone to Maeve’s. Maybe she would have doted on her. But she didn’t want to fall apart the way she planned on in front of her.

:( sorry babe. Sleep tight. Talk to you tomorrow :(

She locked her apartment door and checked at least fifty times that it was truly locked before she moved to her bathroom. Her heart was still in her throat and her eyes felt raw with tears. Maybe she was overreacting.

No.

The rational part of her brain reasoned against her handwaving casualness. She had good instincts. Obviously. If this same situation happened with Harry, then maybe she would have considered it her own poor judgment. It was more reason that someone as terrifying as Harry could have be sweet as her cupcakes that it was her good judgment that helped her get out of there tonight.

She hurried to get out of her clothes. Part of her considered throwing them away. She didn’t want them any longer. She wasn’t sure she would ever wear them again. She turned the shower on as hot as she could stand it and pushed it a little further.

He didn’t hurt her physically. He tried. It was obvious his intent was to force her into the car... or worse. Which was disgusting in its own right. Until that moment in the dark, rainy parking lot, it was almost identical to her moment with Harry. But it wasn’t. Harry didn’t make her feel unsafe. Harry didn’t make her feel threatened. Harry gave her an out even though he wanted to hang out with her. She knew she could leave at any moment and Harry wouldn’t have blamed her.

She rubbed her arm so hard with her loofa in the shower stream it burned for a new reason. Tears blurred her vision and she felt so stupid. So completely idiotic. How could she let it get that far? That was so dangerous. So close she could have been hurt in so many ways that she didn’t want to think about, ever again. She closed her eyes and let the water wash the night away, feeling completely alone and dreadful.

She never wanted to date again.

*

She finished her shower, sniffles plaguing her, and she got into her comfiest pajamas. Her heart was still beating too fast as she crawled under the covers. She felt so ashamed. It felt like her fault. All of it.

There was a tiny rattling in her brain that Harry could have prevented it all. She should have just requested Harry on social media when she met him. If she had, she would have had his number by then. He would have helped her for sure.

Without thinking, she scrolled on her apps, and clicked on the various follow buttons. Every platform she could think of to request his social media friendship—looking like a lunatic be damned. Almost everything had a phone call button now, she could use it as backup if she needed. For good measure she requested Niall too. It was nearing midnight, and she couldn’t bring herself to care. She was scared. Nervous. Heartbroken.

Yet, within moments, Harry returned the request along with a direct message in her inbox.

Thinking of me at midnight, hmm?  😉

She snorted despite her uneasiness. One sentence and she melted. But she couldn’t let him know that. 🙄 it was nice while it lasted. Just going to unfollow you...

Aw, c’mon Cupcake 🙁

Oh alright... No, not really... just can’t sleep. Popped up on my people you may know while scrolling. It wasn’t a complete lie, and she was glad she wasn’t having a phone call. He would have heard her sniffles and then she wasn’t sure she would have been able to stop herself from inviting a total stranger over. Right now, she didn’t trust her judgment fully.

Been dying to press that Follow button, Cupcake. Didn’t want to come on too strong after that first night.

She couldn’t help but smile. The contrast between the night she met Harry, and her present night made her sad but relieved at the same time. I see you enjoyed the cupcakes.

Louis made me run laps for two hours because of you. I ate all twelve in less than 72 hours. Do you put drugs in those? They’re addicting.

Lol, no drugs. Well... sugar. So, pick your poison I guess, right? 😇

Well, thank you, Cupcake. That was delicious. I hope you liked the match too. We didn’t get to talk much. I know I fell asleep 🤦‍♂️ I was really happy you were there.

Her heart felt so warm already. Despite how much she didn’t want it to. Thank you for inviting me. Because she was nothing if not polite. It was really exciting! I don’t know much about boxing. But it’s obvious you’re very good—not that you need me to tell you that. Were you really going to make me look like an idiot and not tell me you were undefeated?

You’ll make me blush, Cupcake. Didn’t think you’d come with me if you knew.

Sneaky... 👀

Just... wanted you there, kitten. I promise. Nothing more... I know I came off a little too strong and I know I was a little...pushy. I would have let you go to your store if you really wanted to... But...

The three dots on his message disappeared and reappeared a few times over.It was cute to imagine him holding his phone thinking about what to type, erasing it, typing it again.

I can’t explain it, Cupcake. I’ve been going CRAZY these last two months. Niall’s calling me a stalker and I haven’t even SEEN you. The sentiment doesn’t give her any bad feelings. Because despite how much she wanted to be guarded, especially after her evening, she couldn’t help but believe him. Trust him, implicitly.

I swear something in the universe pulled me to you... I woke up just in time to see you blowing up my phone tonight 😍😍

She snorted and felt her body warm with his kindness, his gentle adoration through her phone no less. You’re insane, Harry Styles.

About you 😍

Oh my God... Now she really was blushing, but she couldn’t help but notice she felt so much better chatting with him. Well... we can talk tomorrow if you want.

Oh?

I’m assuming you’re tired and I’ve already hogged more than enough of your time at midnight, as you pointed out.

Oh, no.

No way, Cupcake. I’ll stay up all night to talk with you ❤

Her heart felt so heavy. It was unfair. How could she be so stupid? Her dad would have killed her for being so naïve. It was his worst fear while she was growing up. It was everything he always talked her through when she was going through puberty and telling her about boys teasing her. Her dad reminded her constantly that a man has no right to make her feel scared or fragile.

But she could feel his grip on her arm trying to coerce her back into his car. She shook her head of the thoughts, refusing to let him poison any more of her time than he had. She was talking to Harry. She was okay. It was alright. It didn’t happen. She got in an Uber, and she’ll never see him again.

Harry was talking to her. Harry made her feel safe. Harry didn’t make her stomach unsettled with a bad gut feeling. Here’s my phone number if you want it.

Within moments, she had a new text message alert. This is better than an undefeated record 😍

*

The following morning, she felt less terrible about herself and her stupidity, but she never wanted to feel that way again. She was also so tired from texting with Harry for hours. It was nearly three in the morning catching up on all the things he did in the past two months before she wished him a good night. There wasn’t much to report about their lives. They both seemed to be workaholics, but he did offer her some really cute baby pictures of his niece (and a pretty cute picture of Niall falling asleep on Harry’s couch after an intense workout).

While she sipped her coffee—staving off the sleepiness, she Googled self-defense classes. Her dad would have approved. He wanted her to do it back when she was in college, but she refused for whatever reason. She regretted that too.

It was telling that she debated whether she was overreacting for several minutes. If she was overreacting, she would have brushed off the idea of self-defense classes like she did in college. But this wasn’t something to overreact about, right? Before she could overthink it any longer, she paid for the class. Honestly, in that parking lot she was smart to do this. Worst case scenario, for one reason or another, it was the smart decision.

She cycled through the next stage of grief feeling angry and bitter that he made her feel this way. She was incredibly lucky it was raining and slippery and she managed to get away from him in the chilly spring air. He left her so rattled. She was defenseless, so a class was needed.

God, she missed her dad.

Fuck, she missed Harry.

She never wanted to feel that helpless again.

With the class paid for, she put an apron around her waist and headed to the front of A Pinch of Sprinkles and turned the closed sign to open.

*

The following Monday, after a full day of flour, sugar, and plenty of customers, she headed to the gym.

It felt awkward. She hadn’t been to a gym since her college days, and she was already frustrated from her horrific night out. She and Maeve told each other they would go together but they were terrible influences on one another and opted for shopping trips with the promise they would pretend their shopping bags were dumbbells.

When she arrived, she headed to the front desk and introduced herself. She even admitted she felt awkward and the woman behind the desk smiled encouragingly. “I’m Sarah. Let me show you around,” she came from behind the desk and headed toward the side room. “It’s safe here,” she assured her, like she knew. The assurance made her throat tight with emotion and she nodded stoically. “This is the locker room; you can change in here and you can leave your stuff locked up or in the front cubbies and I can watch it. Whatever makes you more comfortable,” she smiled kindly and glanced her up and down briefly. “Do you own that bakery downtown?”

She smiled and nodded, looking at the flour handprint on the thigh of her pants. “Thought I got all the flour off,” she brushed at it with a chuckle. “Yes, I do.”

“My husband is going to think I met a celebrity today,” she laughed. “We love your blueberry scones. They taste like heaven.”

“Aw, thank you so much, that’s so kind. I’ll bring some next time,” she promised.

“Oh stop, I’ll divorce him,” she laughed and headed back for the front desk.

She quickly changed, feeling safe and relieved once more. She brought her belongings to the front and sat in one of the seats across from Sarah’s desk. “Kickboxing is just wrapping up and your instructors will be right over,” there was a group of several other women milling about. Obviously, they at least knew how to be in a gym by themselves. A few came as a small group. Maybe she should have brought Maeve.

While waiting, she scrolled through emails from her landlord, her college alma mater group, and all the coupons she had ever subscribed to. “I have got to unsubscribe,” she murmured to herself. She scrolled through photos of the beautiful little area she lived in now, and as sad as it was to get here, it was nice. Her shop was nice. Despite how scared she was over the weekend, things were good.

The only thing that wasn’t nice was that stupid, awful man.

“Holy shit, he’s hot,” she heard someone whisper. It was peripheral. She didn’t even register it really because she was sending Maeve a picture of the sale that was happening at their favorite clothing store on Thursday. If she paid attention, she might have noticed sooner.

“Ladies, self-defense class, this way please!” The voice was familiar, but she couldn’t place it. Maeve sent about ten heart eyes to her, and she smiled, stuffed her phone in her bag, and waved to Sarah.

“Blueberry scones,” she repeated with a firm nod and followed the line of women. She sipped from her water taking in the banners around the gym and realized too late why Louis’ voice sounded so familiar.

He stood at the front of the room, along with another familiar face.

“Oh shit,” she whispered to herself and turned immediately back toward the desk.

She bumped into another woman who steadied her and kindly looked her over. “Sorry—are you alright?” she was nearly motherly in her demeanor and her head felt woozy. She couldn’t do this. Harry would know.

Why was Harry attending her self-defense class?

“Yes, yes, sorry,” she shook her head. “Wrong—”

“Hey,” Harry’s voice was right there. She stepped out of the room trying to get more air to her lungs and head.He wasn’t attending. He was teaching. This was his gym. The boxing rings in the main room should have been a clue. The sound of Louis’ voice. Oh, you stupid idiot, her brain scolded.

“Cupcake?” Her head responded to the nickname instinctively. Harry’s suspicious green eyes gazed back at her. “What are you doing here?”

--

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[leahswife]

where do we stand

summary: you're tired of aitana's mixed signals and someone on the spanish team loves to get you all flustered. aitana is definitely not jealous.

spoiler alert: that someone is none other than jenni hermoso.

a/n: more like fulfilling two fantasies in one

prequel, part one, part two, part three

this national break had come in handy for you and lucy. england was set to play a few matches in spain, so you were able to sneak in a break between trainings to go see your club teammates and you managed to check in the same hotel as them for the time being. 

you were both getting antsy as the game was approaching its end and spain was in the lead by one goal. 

when the referee blows the final whistle, you exhale in relief and lucy stands up, cheering, quickly pulling you up to celebrate with her. 

it takes some time for the stadium to start clearing up, with both teams doing their laps around the pitch to thank the fans, but once it was empty enough you and lucy walked down to the field to congratulate your teammates.

you ran up to ona, the girl grabbing your waist so she could lift you up and down with excitement, "ayyy oni!!" you laughed at being manhandled, when you noticed aitana.

her smile was radiant as she was cheering with salma and mariona. you didn't know if you should approach her or not, your situation a bit complicated as of now. explaining it was no easy task either. 

you were shy around everyone when you first transferred to barça, although over time they managed to crack your walls and gain your trust. especially aitana, the girl getting closer and closer to you each day. you eventually became best friends, until one night aitana drunkenly confesses she wants to kiss you. so then, your friendship changes into a… situationship? the next day you talk about it, aitana doesn't know what she wants but doesn't want to lose you either. you go back to normal as if nothing happened. but something does happen. during movie night at mapi and ingrid's for team bonding, you and aitana are in the corner of the couch whispering to each other, in the dark, when the catalan tentatively kisses the corner of your mouth. when you drop her off at home later that same night, you kiss her. she brings you inside, which turns one kiss into multiple. what could be defined as innocent kisses in each other's houses eventually become not so innocent make out sessions behind closed closet doors at training. but you're not dating. aitana whispers into your secret kisses that she can't date, she doesn't have time, she needs to focus. so you wait, and wait, and wait. until she's pulling away again and national break comes and she barely messages you, apart from the friendly "good luck" message.

so now here you were, in close distance to her again. you were friends, right? so friends congratulate friends. that's what she wants, so that's what you'll give her.

you turn your attention back to ona and squeeze her shoulders, "best defender in the making! just you wait until you have to face our lessi russo." you tease her by patting her cheek. ona rolls her eyes with a smile, "voy a estar preparada, tonta. what did you think of the game?" she now asks both you and lucy, as the latter approached, having been talking to alexia. "ehh, más o menos." lucy answers, banter present in her voice. ona mocks her and you chuckle, leaving them to it as you walk over to aitana.

"nice goal, bonmatí." you lightly kicked her butt with your foot to get her attention. she turns to you and immediately launches herself into your arms with an infectious smile. it must have been the adrenaline of the win, you think, a bit surprised. nonetheless, you hold her in your arms. "i saw you in the stands." she affirms once she let go of the hug to look at you tenderly. "hm, i might have been your lucky charm then." you shrugged nonchalantly and whipped your hair over your shoulder. "sí, obvio." aitana went along with your joke, nodding with a fake serious expression. 

suddenly a body slammed into you both, one tattooed arm being wrapped around your shoulder and the other around aitana's. "entonces, chicas, vamos a celebrar la noche entera?" you look up to see jenni hermoso flashing you a dazzling grin.

you had met jenni a few times before, with her visiting alexia every now and then, but you were never brave enough to start a conversation with the tall woman. truth was, she was extremely intimidating to you, probably because she was also extremely hot. however, you had to admit that, as an opponent, she was in addition, extremely annoying. you'd had some interactions in the field whenever england had to play against spain and jenni knew exactly how you worked. it's like she would previously study your every move so she knew how to push your buttons. if you were trying to get the ball, she wouldn't leave your side, if you were getting ready to receive a corner kick with your teammates, she would stand behind you and place her hands on your waist, if she tackled you she would offer her hand with a smug smirk.

you were terrifically infuriated with how easily she could mess with your head on the field and outside the field after a game, often leaving a dm on your instagram saying she couldn't wait to play with you again, followed by a winky face emoji.

right now, her strong arm around you and the way she was grinning at you only managed to redden your cheeks as aitana took the lead in answering her question with a laugh, "pues claro!" jenni ruffled her hair in approval and turned to you, "can i count with you as well?" she asked with challenge in her eyes. "aren't you a bit old to be partying all night?" you challenged back, forcing yourself to keep a straight face and not smile with amusement. that only prompted her grin to grow even wider and her hand to relocate from your shoulder to the side of your neck, playing with your hair. your breath hitched and suddenly you weren't playful anymore, far too aware of jenni's touch and her gaze. "so you do have a mouth." jenni remarked, the stupid smirk never leaving her face. 

aitana caught notice of this flirty interaction between you two and felt something boil in her chest, an ugly feeling she couldn't quite tell what it was but didn't like at all.

–

the club was already full when you got in with lucy and ona later that night, music blaring and people filling the dance floor. you noticed aitana dancing with some of the girls, a little too close for your liking. but she didn't want you like you wanted her, that's what you needed to remind yourself of. therefore, you might as well find a way to have fun tonight without her. you three reached the tables where most of the girls were gathered to greet everyone. 

you swiftly made your way to the bar, ready to start your fun. you were waiting for the bartender when you felt a breath on your ear, "you know, standing behind you outside of a football field can be even more exhilarating than i thought." you recognized jenni's voice right away and a smile slowly formed on your face. this, whatever it was, could be part of your fun, right?

you turned around and ignored your instinct to take a step back out of surprise, given how close jenni was to you. your eyes naturally scanned her body before your brain could even scold you for it and force you to put on a nonchalant mask. they finally looked up at her face, blush already visible on yours. the always present and annoying smirk she had on when talking to you turned to the bartender to order you two a drink.

"you know, i always wondered when you were going to finally talk to me, princesa."

"why would it matter to you?"

she cocked her head to the side, eyeing you curiously.

"i like corrupting pretty innocent girls who look like they could rip my head off in the field but then avoid me like the plague." she bit her lip, trying to hold off an amused smile when you roll your eyes.

"why have you never done so before, then?"

"alexia doesn't let me get too close to her players – and it seems she's not the only one." she points her head towards aitana, who's been watching you two interact from the dance floor with a frown on her face. 

you turn back to the bar to grab your drink and begin gulping it down, trying to keep your mind off of the catalan that up to that point had you wrapped around her little finger. "maybe you just have a bad reputation." you bite on the piece of lemon it was given to you and lick the bitter taste off of your lips. you noticed that had caught jenni's attention and asked, now with a small smirk, "should i be wary of that?"

her eyes never left your face as her strong hand carefully moved up your neck to your jaw, pulling you closer. you could feel her breath on your lips when she goes "i want to do bad things to you but i think it's something you should test yourself." 

your heart starts beating faster, blood rushing to your cheeks and your thighs pressing together involuntarily. just one move and your lips would be touching hers.

all of a sudden, your body is jerked away abruptly from the bar and jenni by a hand grabbing your arm and leading you in the direction of the club's exit. you look up to see aitana and let yourself be dragged outside where you pull back your arm, making her face you. "what exactly do you think you're doing, aitana?!" the rush and amount of emotions you had felt in the span of a minute made you question her with annoyance in your voice.

"that's what i should ask you. que haces con jenni?" aitana looked at you incredulously, an angry scowl visible on her face. you had only seen her angry on the pitch, and even then those moments were rare. but now she was pissed at you? for what? that only aggravated you further.

"what do you mean 'what am i doing with jenni'? you and i are nothing. you made it clear yourself multiple times. you can't have me whenever you want me and expect me to wait when you don't feel like it anymore. so do not tell me who i should or should not hang out with."

"but it's not just hanging out, is it?" she puffs air out of her nose, the frown never leaving her face.

"do you actually care or are you just jealous someone other than you is getting my attention?" you bite back.

"i'm not jealous. i'm just curious." she mumbled, crossing her arms and looking away, doing everything now to avoid your furious gaze.

"oh, so you're just curious. that's why you dragged me away from her like that." you say, sarcasm on the tip of your tongue.

she finally looks at you with an exasperated sigh, "and i'm worried. of course i care about you! and i know jenni isn't looking for anything other than–" she cuts herself off for a moment, knowing what she would say next would make her sound like a hypocrite.

"well, then that makes two of you, doesn't it?" the anger in your voice subsides but your tone is still bitter. aitana furrows her eyebrows together, a sad frown taking shape in her face at your words.

"the difference, aitana, is that if you tell me, right here, right now, that you want something with me, that you're not going to rush into my arms one minute and act like nothing happened the next, i'll stay. i won't go back in there to jenni or anyone."

"i–" aitana stutters, you can see her eyes begging you not to go back but her voice can't say the same. "i--i'm sorry. tú sabes que no puedo hacerlo." she whispers, almost as if she's ashamed to say it. 

you nod, fighting back your tears. silence looms between you both before you finally answer back, "that settles it then." you clear your throat before your voice can betray you any further for showing so much vulnerability in that moment. you turn around and start walking away, picking up your phone to call an uber when you see a message.

"28A 3rd floor. i expect to see you there ;) - jenni"

you seriously couldn't understand how this woman was capable of exuding cockiness even through text.

–

you managed to stay in your hotel room for about 30 minutes before temptation and frustration got a hold of you and you marched your way to jenni's.

you take a deep breath and knock on the door.

immediately you can't resist the urge to roll your eyes when jenni opens the door with a smug smirk on her face, crossing her arms and leaning against the door frame.

"took you long enough."

"shut up." you pushed at her chest and made your way inside.

[j4gm]

SPOILERS!!! REFERENCES AND EASTER EGGS IN F&C ep. 2: SIMON PETRIKOV

Let me know if I missed anything!

First of all the title sequence is fucking cool. I don't want to speculate about the various things we see in it, like the apartment getting blown up or the Fern tree growing into its 1000+ version, because I'm sure the show will get round to all that!

The first scene was an awesome reintroduction to the post-apocalypse, showing us the dynamic between Simon and Marcy. The button popping off Marcy's dungarees was a reference to young Marcy's first appearance, Memory of a Memory, when she removed one of the buttons herself to fix Hambo's eye.

Simon was show playing a live set at Dirt Beer Guy's tavern in Obsidian. It seems they've gotten to know each other quite well over the past twelve years. Dirt Beer Guy asks Simon if he's read his new book draft, about a character called Joe Milkshake who was first mentioned in the episode Root Beer Guy.

Despite the fact we saw Jake in the trailers, Finn and T.V. pretty much confirm in this scene that Jake is dead, and has presumably been dead since before Obsidian. I guess Bronwyn wasn't the only Jake descendant who Finn took on as an apprentice, but T.V. doesn't seem all that into it. The Finn and Jake we saw in the trailer are likely from an alternate universe that we have yet to see.

Finn uses his weed whacker to cut through these bushes. A nice way of showing he's fully recovered from his Fern guilt. The focus here is very much on Simon's problems instead of Finn's.

Finn parts with Simon to go and visit Huntress Wizard. The nature of their relationship remains ambiguous and I expect it to stay that way.

Simon has the Island Lady from The Party's Over Isla de Señorita in his phone. I guess they reconnected after he became Simon again. He also has Abracadaniel. I always liked Ice King's friendship with Abracadaniel and the rest of the Order of Giuseppe so I hope they're still friends!

Cute Bubbline scene. Back in the episode Bonnibel Bubblegum, Mr. Creampuff suggested he and PB get matching tattoos. Now she's (trying to) do the same with the girl she's chosen rather than some guy who was chosen for her! Also Marceline is using the same phone she's been seen with in a few previous episodes, including Go With Me and Be Sweet.

I think the flying human city is called Up-Ton.

Choose Goose! He keeps coming back! And he's evil now! People were joking about him being the antagonist of Fionna and Cake after that weird post-credits scene in Wizard City and the fact he was in hell in Together Again. I wasn't expecting that to actually come true. Glob knows why he's hanging out in a cage in Simon's house.

The pattern of GOLB's eyes is reflected in Simon's glasses during the ritual. He is doing the same dance that Betty was doing to summon GOLB in the finale.

Among the objects in Simon's GOLB shrine are the Farmworld Enchiridion, the flying carpet that Simon stole from Ash and was later frequently used by Betty, the crocodile clips that Betty used for her magic rituals, two effigies of GOLB, and what looks to be the shell of the snail who was seen throughout the original series.

In this credits sequence, Fionna and cake are dreaming about the mask being worn by the bear than Finn slew, and a butterfly with a smiley face on it. Perhaps symbolising Finn?

Tune in next week for episodes 3 and 4!

[kurosstuff]

Lute x fallen angel! Reader: Fallen

Short fic- tell me what you think! Hope you all enjoy it-!

Summary" lute SHOULD hate you. But. How can she?

HEAVY SPOILERS MENTIONED LIKE AKL OVER(in this like one?) IDK PLEASE. ALL HAZBIN FICS I WRITE ARENT SPOILER FREE UNLESS I STATE THAT IT IS. YOUVE BEEN WARNED

Warning(s): blood/fights, love at first sight, maybe ooc lute? Idk yoy tell me I never wrote her, heartbreak, also from my knowledge? Wing movements(from birds please correct me on the info if I do it wrong I do not own birds) in denial, Adam and his vulgur language

Ngl I love lute-

Lute a cruel sadistic woman. Odd place for a woman in heaven. But given her status as the leader of the executioners. The one who leads the battles against those vile sinners. Who trains the angels picked to fight herself. The woman second in command to Adam himself.

It's a fitting role.

Never in a million years(and she HAS been around for that long. Or so she lost track of such a useless thing) would she? A ruthless exterminator encounter this thing other fully pure angels speak of.

Love

Why would she? Lute is a fighter. A warrior. The one who Adam HIMSELF entrusts his life too. Why would she fall for anyone? She doesn't even know if she CAN feel such a thing.

But as always- Life(or afterlife?) Is full of surprises. She was well aware of a new angel coming in. Recently passed in some horrific accident she doesn't care for the details just knows- need to pick them apart see if their ruthless enough to fight. But the second she went into the room her eyes widden- an odd feeling in her chest as If her heart- her cold heart was heating up.

"Hello~ are you uh Lute?" You asked shyly- which given the situation even the most outgoing would be just as shy. She blinked, glad for the mask to hide the flushed expression - the confusion on it.

Clearing her throat, she nods slowly, ensuring you saw "I am. Welcome to Heaven, " she greeted uncharacteristically polite- gentle. If you were to be mistaken, she ignored the odd look Adam gave her, looking at the name tag, even your name is pretty- she blinked.

What?

She did NOT just think that. She did NOT Find you pretty. Gorgeous. She does NOT notice how your eyes sparkle how friendly your smile is as you both talked. She most certainly doesn't notice how your wings are the single most gorgeous pair she's ever seen. How white it is- signaling how pure you are. How the gold etched into it- putting to shame her grey and black wings- smiling soft behind her mask. How how she wishes to touch the- she stops she will NOT think that

-

It became as clear as day to her and anyone else. Lute? Is inlove. And not just anyone. The new angel- the kind soul who? Adam states follows her around like a lost puppy or in Adam's kind words "Hey look. It's lutes bitch!" Oh how she wishes to punch him everytime- hit that smug look off. But she won't. Not yet.

A common tradition in heaven- like the birds in the human realm(maybe a odd similarity she presumed. She doesn't care for the human realm after all) finding a mate, a lover with the most gorgeous wings. It was no surprise you gained such attention

Much to her displeasure.

Grumbling watching as how you yet again were surrounded by angels around you- and ad always rejecting them before that smile she oh so adored. Yet would never state aloud was sent her way- making her scowl darkly(but on the inside? She was warm) quickly making your way to her she noticed how you fidgeted. How red you were "out with it. What is it?" She grumbled out no matter how warm and soft she was on the inside? Her words on the outside could never match. No matter how she wished it

White cleared her vision making her back up scrunching her nose before finally realizing what it was- a feather. Not just any old feather. Your feather "i.. i want you to have it.. I know the meaning bur when I was preening my wings u couldn't help it.. I want you to have my feather" they whispered watching as she gently took the feather.

Silently accepting them courting her with a soft smile. Maybe she can make it a necklace?

-

As great as it was up there. There were rules. Easy to forget. Easy to break. But rules nonetheless. Once Adam instructed her to strip a betrayers wings, Lute sighed. Grumbling loudly going to the room. Ignoring the odd almost somber pitiful look Adam gave her. Hiding the feather in her shirt tucked safe near her heart, she hummed, stepping inside fixing her helmet before freezing

"No-"

Her heart dropped paling more then she was already at the bloodied sight

"NO WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!"

She roared storming to your bloodied frame she couldn't help but break her never-ending composure for the first time, kneeling to your side "do you HAVE ANY FUCKING IDEA WHAT THIS MEANS?" She snarled ripping her mask off showing her teary face. Knowing her counter was now a sinner. Her angel was a traitor. A million emotions went through her head glaring down at you with every emotion but the one she should feel.

It wasn't hate.

She ignored her feelings, swallowing it down she ignored the reasoning of what you did. Of what you SAID. putting her mask on, she steeled herself. She was an executioner. A peacemaker. She takes care of the issue. So she pushed you down with her foot grabbing your once gorgeous wings now bloodied gold- in her one hand grabbing her spear she sliced. Ignoring how she was covered in your blood. The deafening screams of pain. Of agony. How you begged for her. She took a sigh taking her mask off giving you the chance to se her one last time. Without the mask. How she stared cold at you.

Before the ground opened up, "lute. Before I go- please I lo-" she cut you off, kicking you in. Closing her eyes as the ground closed. For the first time ever. She fell to her knees, holding the now broken wings sobbing out for a sinner. How was she not a sinner to for showing the regret. Showing the selfishness in this?

~~

It wasn't long before she saw you again. Traveling down with Adam to meet with Charlie and her girlfriend- to Lute it was a vile relationship. Not because of the sex- no- because of the liar Vaggie is. How that bitch betrayed her kind and then fell for the ruler of hells daughter. She could almost laugh.

Blinking, ignoring the yelling match of Adam and Charlie. Looking out the window, she froze mouth wide open- even though the demons back was turned. No wings but a tail and horns. She knew that laugh. She knew that smell. No matter how different you looked. Eyes soft watching you turn. Even as a demon. You truly are a beautiful creature. She softened her gaze behind her mask before looking away in disgust. Not with you.

But herself.

Lute a angel? Finds a demon attractive. Sure it's you but. Your a demon. A angel and demon together is vile. Disgusting in all sense of the worse.

But even now. She can't help but still long for you. Long for the almost relationship. Frowning, she looked back at Adam, who watched her with a frown. She knew they'd have a talk. Sighing, she followed after him with a deep sigh

She truly wished this outcome was different. How she longs to see you once more. Touching the feather on her chest she sighs

The only way she would be with you. Is if she was fallen as well. What a cruel irony.

[wxshing-aep]

Hiii, I saw ur request post!! could you maybe

write some dating Ethan morales hcs??💖

Dating Ethan Morales Would Include

pairing: ethan morales x reader (all characters are 18+) AN: this will be dating college!ethan cause i thought it'd be more interesting, also didn't proofread this warnings: swearing, gets nsfw in the second half so 18+ (minors dni)

-

you met ethan when you were assigned to tutor him cause he was failing calc. you originally found him to be pretty obnoxious and got tired of his overly nonchalant attitude which culminated in you yelling at him about how he needs to start trying or he's gonna get kicked out. he made no move to respond to your angry rant and just stared back at you with wide eyes and blown out pupils. "what?" you question. "sorry, you're kinda really fucking hot when you're mad"

one of your study sessions ended with him pulling you onto his lap while you made out and his hands roamed your body

he got a little nervous asking you out on a real date even though you've already made out multiple times. he was a bit worried that you'd reject him. he wasn't sure if you'd want a serious relationship with him since he's got a bit of a womanizer reputation. (spoiler alert: you said yes)

his grades got a lot better once he actually started trying because he loved seeing how excited you'd get for him when he showed you a good grade that he got on a test

ethan's love language is definitely physical touch. he needs his hands on you at all times, normally around your waist or resting on your thigh. he's constantly drawing little shapes on whatever part of your bare skin he has access to. most of the time he doesn't even realize he's doing it

you go on a lot of late night drives that may or may not end with the two of you in the backseat of ethan's car

he loves when you wear his clothes but still consistently accuses you of robbing him. "wearing my jacket again, you little thief" "oh, did you want it ba-" "no"

he is your own personal hype-man, there is no shortage of compliments coming from him

"see you later, gorgeous", "damn, my girl looks sexy", "my girlfriend is the most beautiful person on the planet"

he lets you braid his hair when you're bored

he'll match his nail color to yours but will never admit that he did it on purpose and always insist that it was a coincidence

he gets very jealous, but will deny it if you call him out. you were once at a party very innocently talking to a male friend from your psych seminar about how hard your recent test was before ethan walked over to your conversation.

"oh hey, jack, this is my boyfriend ethan" you introduce him, "ethan, this is-" "yea, don't care" ethan interrupts before pulling you by the waist into a searing kiss until jack had left. "there's no reason to be jealous you know? he's just a friend" "i'm not jealous, but that loser was definitely eye-fucking you" "he was not eye-" "let's go make out"

ethan is very distracting when you're trying to study or do any homework

"baaaaaabe, i'm bored", he whines. "m'sorry but I really have to do this research paper" you respond. "or", he starts, closing the book in your hands and tossing it to the side of your bed, "you can take a much needed break and do me instead"

his friends call him whipped bc of how obsessed with you he is and he doesn't give a fuck cause he is in fact obsessed with you

he lets you color in his tattoos

he definitely tries to teach you how to skateboard and holds both your hands if you're too scared to let go of him

he got you a necklace with his initial on it and has a ring with your initial on it

nsfw 18+

that man definitely knows what he's doing in the bedroom cause, let's face it, he was a bit of a whore in the past

you guys have a lot of sex, like a lot of sex to the point where you might have gotten a few noise complaint's from the people that live next to your dorm room

he's a capital M Munch. ethan loves eating pussy, like he definitely does it for his own enjoyment. he could spend hours in between your thighs and any moans or whimpers coming from you just egg him on even more

ethan was so turned on when you agreed to sit on his face

"your face is pretty", you complimented him. "yea? you should sit on it" oh. "like sit on it sit on it?" "sit. on. it." "but what if I like suffocate you or something" "you won't, and if you did i'd die happy" so you did and holy shit does that boy know how to use his mouth. he wouldn't stop till you came on his face multiple times and your legs are shaking around his head

he keeps his hair long cause he likes when you tug on it while he's eating you out. it turns him on so much that he has to actively try not to cum in his pants while he's going down on you

ethan is very vocal, he's not afraid to let you know that he's enjoying it. he whimpers for sure. while he's definitely a giver he loves when you have your mouth on him. his mind goes fuzzy when you're blowing him, moaning your name, shaking under you

he's a bit of a sub and loves when you boss him around. ethan absolutely loses his mind when you choke him while you're riding him. he just loves seeing you on top of him, telling him what to do, using him for your own pleasure. he'll beg, especially if you're edging him

"baby fuck please i need it, i'll be your good boy i promise"

jealous!ethan is definitely more dominant though. "right there baby? look how wet you are for me. he can't fuck you like i can hmm? want you to cum on my dick like a good girl"

this man cannot hide when he's horny. he immediately gets super handsy and will be whisking you off to the nearest bathroom

he loves your boobs. holding them, sucking on your nipples, cumming on them if you're cool with that. your chest is rarely not covered in hickies.

you're obsessed with ethan's hands and he knows it. he knows how to use them and has no problem sneaking them into you under the table on a date night, only to remove his hands from you right before you finish and make a point of sucking the fingers that had just been inside you clean while holding eye contact with you and letting a smug look take over his face

he has a praise kink and definitely responds with "yes ma'am" when you boss him around. he's gotten turned on when you guys are arguing before, there's just something about you yelling at him that goes straight to his dick

if you wear a sundress, oh it's over for him. he'll have you bent over the nearest surface in seconds and the dress stays on.

[insanely-lovely-and-random]

Ohhh boy wow. Just saw Challengers and my God my bisexual brain was firing all signals. Like within the first five minutes I realised 2 things about this movie. 1 it understands that tennis is a truly boring sport and instead makes it an incredibly sweaty, sexy, compelling game to watch. 2 this movie is bi as all hell and equally in love with all 3 of these people (as was I by the end of the movie).

SPOILERS:

God I was enraptured I think this films pretty subjective and can be seen in a few different ways but I just saw it as 3 people who think their playing the same game but none of them really are. Zendayas playing to win at Tennis, when she can't do it herself she plays through her husband. Art is playing to win the woman he thinks he loves and needs.

And Patrick is the most interesting of all, is he playing because unlike those two he actually needs to out of monetary needs? Maybe but doubt it. Is he playing to win Zendaya? And willing to be her champion unlike Art? Possibly but honestly I think it's the third option. He's playing to get back Art, Art is always a presense in their relationship and he puts him before himself. For sure the unusual sexual history between them is there. The strong friendship turned rivalry. The sheer sexual tension (Goddamn that churro!!) But oddly enough for the guy who may seem like the disloyal asshole type of the three he is both the most honest and oddly loyal. He may sleep with Zendaya but the second she asks him to throw the match? He's furious, he's insulted and refuses. But NOT for himself but for Art. His first words are "How could you do that to Art?" To cheapen his victory, if he were to know would crush Art. Art is always at the tip of his tounge and whats happening.

When they start making out in the dorm Zendaya won't stop talking about tennis but equally whats Patrick talking about? Art. When he finds out Arts not just interested in Zendaya but is acting snakey he's proud.

And god that sauna scene?? (I mean yeah its hot but I mean the dialouge!) He asks Art if he'd miss it and he completely doesn't understand what he's really asking. He once again is talking to somone who thinks their talking about tennis but he's talking about anything but.

I knew that bloody signal was gonna come back and when they had sex in the car I was like "okay this is it, he's gonna tell Art" but the question was.. will it be to hinder him? Make him lose his cool so he loses the game..? OR will he do it to truly spur Art into a game changing rage and unlock his fighting spirit? And as the scene unfolded I belived it was the latter. And it was NOT for Zendaya because he could've easily thrown the match like she said but NO he wanted Art to win fair and square. He wanted to help him do that.

That wordless communication they share? That Zendayas just sat on the outside of not undertanding but worried? Golden. The brutal match and then that gorgeous smile. When I think Art realises what his friend has done and really why he did it. And Patricks, the sheer joy of seeing Art smile at him again. That beautiful, fly through the air and that throw of his own racket down so he can catch Art as he gloriously wins the match. Because tennis was never really what mattered to Patrick, and neither was it really to Art. And despite it being Arts victory they've really both won.

And Zendayas roar of victory from the crowd to me was almost funny. Because she won too. Her husband, her extension of her own career and self won his match with his challenge. His/her past. She also sees it as a victory even though I really won't be suprised if it's lost her both her husband and her back up career/boyfriend. And maybe she won't mind that so much because she got what she wanted. Because she was playing a different game.

Also banging soundtrack, loved it. Also this is just my view of the film and it really can be read multiple ways I'm sure, would love to hear other peoples ideas on it! What can I say I just love some bi emotional drama!

Also Im seeing it again friday so any incorrect quotes, extra thoughts or such I'll probs fix then haha

[pukanavis]

Fuyume Hanamura Idol Story 1

ーThe Yumenosaki Academy library, two years since the establishment of ES.

Fuyume: Excuse me?

Are there any fairy tales here…?

Oh, the shelf over there is the section for picture books and stuff?

Thank you for your help.

~...♪

(Ah, she was right. Yume recognises a bunch of the books over here.)

(They’ve got a good selection to choose from but the categorising is a mess. They’re just randomly thrown onto the shelf without any care for alphabetical order or release date.)

(Oh well…apparently no one has any love for fairy tales…)

(‘The Little Mermaid, ‘Momotaro’, ‘Tale of The Bamboo-Cutter’, ‘Snow White’, ‘Urashima Taro’, ‘Cinderella’—)

(Oh! It might not be the one Yume was looking for but he’s in the mood to read Cinderella today.)

(This story is another one that Yume adores.)

(It’s a tale about love being rewarded.)

…♪

Fuyume: …? Hm? Oh, uhm, you’re that nice person from earlier—did you need something?

You were so kind to Yume earlier, so he’d be happy to give you some company.

Huh? The Yumenosaki Academy library is off-limits to anyone that doesn’t work for or attend the school?

How could you tell that Yume isn’t a student here?

Ooh, cause Yume isn’t wearing the uniform…?

That makes sense…no biggie, Yume will be sure to wear the school uniform next time.

Yume is really good at sewing, so it won’t be a problem…fufu ♪

Huh? That’s not the issue?

Yume doesn't like anything you’re saying right now.

Here he was thinking you were a nice person.

Fuyume: Huh? Yume’s name is Fuyume Hanamura.

And you are? …Anzu-san? You’re a graduate of Yumenosaki?

You’re here at your old school to do some producer work, huh? It made you feel nostalgic so you’ve been walking around the grounds…? 

Oh, is that the case? Hmm…♪

Then, aren’t you and Yume in the same boat? Yume goes to a middle school separate from Yumenosaki and you’ve already graduated…right?

It sounds like neither of us are allowed to be here.

Let's work together then, okay? If you pretend you never saw Yume, he won’t go around yelling, ‘There’s a trespasser in here!’ …♪

What do they call it? A contract, business, bargaining? Let’s do something like that…♪

If you’re willing to comply, Yume will leave you be. He isn't particularly interested in you anyway.

Yume is just here to read some fairy tales.

…♪

Fuyume: Huh? Did you need something else? You want to know what Yume is reading?

Ehehe, you’re interested in fairy tales? Sounds like we can get along.

Ehehehehehe. Yume is just reading a picture book about the massively popular princess, Cinderella. Though, he actually wanted to read something else. 

Maybe you’ve heard of it? For some reason, no one in Japan knows about it—it’s a fairy tale about an amethyst. 

Even if you don’t know the story, maybe you’ve heard this quote before?

—”The amethyst broke into pieces.”

Fufu. I guess you haven’t heard of it. Oh well.

Basically, it’s a story about an ordinary girl that comes across an amethyst that can grant any wish that she desires.

In fact, she actually fuses with the amethyst and becomes a crystalised-human of sorts.

It’s a curse put on her by an evil witch…ehehehehe ♪

The plot is kinda similar to ‘The Happy Prince’. Actually, something like ‘Arabian Nights’ or ‘The Monkey’s Paw’ might be a better match.

After transforming into the wish-granting amethyst, the girl wishes for her crush to pay attention to her, or to become better friends with people—

With each little wish she makes, the amethyst uses its power and gradually begins to crack—

Aah…♪ Eventually, her body becomes so fractured that it crumbles away and she loses all of the love and friends that she had been granted.

Her loved ones view her like a monster and chase her away in fear.

After everything, the final wish she makes is—

Fuyume: —Ah, wait, Yume thinks you should read it for yourself to find out what happens next. Spoilers are a crime!

Ehehe. If there’s one thing Yume can say, it’s that he empathises with the amethyst girl and even admires her.

At the end of it all, the final remaining piece of her—

Becomes a ring that showers the wedding between her best friend and the one she loved in joy.

After everything, her final wish is—wait, oops, Yume just realised how much he’s spoiling. He’s really really sorry.

You don’t mind? Really? You’re super kind, you know?

Ehehe. You see, Yume shares the same wish as the girl who became a ring.

—-“I wish for your life to be full of joy.”

During her final moments, the girl whose selfish asks led her to break apart used her last wish to bring someone else happiness. 

Ehehe. Yume doesn’t have the power to grant wishes but he’ll do everything he can to achieve that too.

For example, Esu goes to Yumenosaki so Yume snuck in to watch over him in secret.

Huh? Does Yume love Esu?

It depends how you define ‘love’ but yep, Yume loves Esu.

But it's sad, isn't it? The reality we live in isn’t a fairytale.

—The amethyst already shattered long ago.

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Hii!!! I want to say how much I love your blog!!! From the aesthetic to the writing everything is just so cute and enjoyable!! I also love how you write Jamil personally hehe.

Idk if you still have your requests open buttttt I have a fluff idea for the basketball club :) the boys want to invite their (freshly obtained) partner!reader to a pretty important basketball match but ✨circumstances✨ happen (anything you can think of really) and they end up not saying anything to them about it. But on the day of the match their partner shows up anyway fully dressed in cheerleading attire, facepaint, pompoms, loudly cheering for them (embarassing them a lil but in a wholesome way y'know ❤️) maybe you can write some post match fluff?

Thank you so much for sharing your writing with us!! It's a delight to read it all!!

COMMENTS: Awww, thank you 🥰 It so happens that I identify a lot with Jamil (perhaps even too much). And maybe that's also why I had never thought of writing an MC that, let's say, out-going? Because a shy person like me would never do that cheerleading thing in public at least. 😅 But I wrote it. 😉

Btw: That cheerleading thing doesn't exist in my country so the only things I know about it are whatever I saw in american movies. But in return, I played basketball for 3 years when I was younger. So in that regard I know a few things.

I hope you and all enjoy 🏀

PS: I was waiting for Floyd's basketball card to come to the english server to write something with them. I still want to do it, in addition to this one.

CHARACTERS: Basketball Club (Ace, Floyd & Jamil)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Established Relationship; Kissing

WARNING: Spoilers from Ace's and Floyd's Basketball Jersey Lines

WORD COUNT: An average of 500 words per character.

🏀❤️🏀🦈🏀🐍🏀

Ace really wanted to invite you to the game, but in the meantime, he got into some misbehavior issues and spent the whole time trying to make sure Coach Vargas wasn't going to ban him from playing.

He ended up forgetting to invite you, as it wouldn't make sense to do it without being sure he was going to play. He sends you a message at the last minute and that's why he doesn't even know if you'll make it.

I can see him dating a more outgoing person, so let's go that route. You appear in the game, yes, dressed in cheerleading attire alongside Cater and Deuce. Cater because I can see him doing that for being great for magicam. And Deuce because he really wants NRC to win.

While he is overjoyed to see you and thinks this is an excellent opportunity to show himself off to you, he is also a little embarrassed by the attention you are diverting to him.

We also go the route where they win. While the players are celebrating, they go to you and the rest of the cheerleading group. Ace runs up to you and hugs you so happily he lifts you off your feet. And in the midst of happiness he kisses your lips, while holding you.

He did it on the spur of the moment, and when he realizes what he's done, he's extremely embarrassed. Great chances of Floyd messing with him for that.

If someone from the opposing team starts looking at you while he is not with you, he will say with a smirk: “Can look, but not touch, you hear me?”

Before the players go to shower, Ace asked you to wait for him behind the gymnasium. It was already night. You were waiting outside and after a while you got distracted. When he goes outside and sees you distracted, he sneaked up on you and hugged you from behind. And kisses your cheek.

“Hey, what do you say to a celebration party tomorrow~? Trey said he's going to make cupcakes shaped like basketballs. Isn't that cool?” and then you hear him moan in pain softly and for a second.

You had felt his fingers curl a little when you heard that. And you remembered that one day he commented to you that his fingers get sprained all the time when he is playing. That it hurts to bend them. After a game like that, they must be hurting a lot then.

You take his hands. “Ouch...” you bring them to your lips, and kiss them softly. You tell him you could take care of him. “I deserve that, don't I?~” he says and goes back to kissing your cheek affectionately.

Floyd really wanted to invite you to the game, but in the meantime, on the one hand, the Coach Vargas wanted him to train even more. Being the tallest, the coach had high expectations for him (pun not intended). And on the other hand, Azul wanted to do something special at Mostro Lounge, as a lot of people from off campus would come to watch the game and it was an opportunity to have more customers.

Sometimes he had fun doing these things. And when he didn't want to do them, he preferred to be left alone. This plus the fact that he thought that: "since you are his partner now, isn't it already implied that you're going to watch the game?” made him end up not inviting you officially.

Jade is the one who reminds you on the day of the game. Since it was an important game, you wanted to do something special for Floyd. And taking advantage of this, Azul suggests that you come to the game dressed in cheerleading attire. This type of incentive can increase their chances of winning the game and consequently the chances of increasing customers at Mostro Lounge. And if you don't want to do it alone, don't worry, at least Cater, Deuce and Kalim will be doing the same alongside you.

I definitely can see Floyd with an outgoing partner. All of his colleagues were worried because he seemed unenthusiastic. And if he continues like this, he might not even want to play properly and that would make them lose the game for sure. And what's worse is that they couldn't even complain about it or risk getting their asses kicked.

When the game starts, what they feared most was happening. He didn't feel like playing. Which also made the opposing team not worry too much about Floyd. Fortunately, a couple of minutes after the game starts, he hears you cheering him on. He looks at you dressed in cheerleading attire and his mood changes radically. “Koebi-chan~!” He waves at you with his cutest smile. Before turning to the opponents with a sadistic smile. Now he wants to play.

The one the players on the other team thought was a drag on NRC has suddenly become the most powerful athlete in the game. To the point that the opponent who was chosen to block him was afraid to do so. And the one chosen to be blocked by Floyd (who happened to be the strongest player on the opposing team) did his best not to keep the ball too long.

He usually gets expelled from the game before it's over, but this was a big one and you were rooting for him. He had to stay until the end! So he behaved and tried to make as few fouls as possible.

Hardly in these conditions NRC would lose. So they win! If during their celebration, someone from the opposing team starts looking at you. Floyd first smiles at them. "Pretty, right?" and then put on that scary straight face "Well, it's not for your eyes."

When he comes to you because you are all celebrating together, he will pick you up. “You look so cute dressed like that.” He tells to you. If there are kisses, they will be yours on his cheeks.

Before the players go to shower, Floyd asked you to wait for him behind the gymnasium. It was already night. You were waiting outside and after a while you got distracted. When he goes outside and sees you distracted, he sneaked up on you. And behind you, he whispers in your ear: “Baa~”

You turn and he picks you up again so that your faces are level. Your noses are touching. “Hey~ Came to Mostro Lounge with me. I'm not in the mood to celebrate without you. And I can get Azul to give you your favourite for free. Isn't that a good deal~?”

He's not much for kissing your lips in front of others, so he only does it now.

Jamil really wanted to invite you to the game, but between babysitting, I mean, looking after Kalim and training for the game, he ended up not even getting to spend time with you.

Honestly, I don't see Jamil with a very outgoing partner. Since it could be like a Kalim 2.0 for him. But I certainly see Kalim going to you, already dressed in cheerleading attire himself and dragging you to dress like that too and go cheering Jamil and the others alongside him.

Because of Kalim, you two end up being a little late and when you arrive the game has already started. And Jamil had just scored. Kalim (and maybe you too) shout to congratulate Jamil. He looks at you two and is immediately flattered, shocked and embarrassed. Not because of you, but because he doesn't like to draw attention to himself, nor to have others draw attention to him that way.

Unfortunately his performance drops slightly. Until he overhears an opposing player commenting on you. At that moment, he manages to take the ball away from the opposing team, run to the basket and score.

This made him realize two things: first, your cheering the made the whole team’s morale shot up. And second, It’s also slightly distracting the opposing team. Genial!

Whenever he scores and you celebrate, he gets flattered and embarrassed but smiles at you discreetly.

They end up winning! While the players are celebrating, they go to you and the rest of the cheerleading group. He walks towards you, but is intercepted by Kalim, who hugs him. And it's only a few seconds later that he looks at you, looks at Jamil, smiles awkwardly and breaks the hug.

But more awkward than he is, you two are. Jamil doesn't like public displays of affection, so at first you don't even know what to do our say. You end up saying: "Congratulations on the victory" at the same time as he says "thanks for the cheering". And you two giggle.

Before the players go to shower, Jamil asked you to wait for him behind the gymnasium. It was already night. You were waiting outside and after a while you got distracted. He greets you as soon as he sees you and walks towards you.

He opens his arms, inviting you to hug him. And you do it. “Sorry I didn't thank you properly after the game.” He places his index and thumb on your chin, tilting it up and bringing his face closer to yours. “But now I can.” he whisper and kisses your lips.

“*Sigh* I really don't want to go back to Scarabia  and put up with Kalim's party spirit.” He hugs you around the waist and gently places you against the wall. “So would you celebrate with me a little while before I have to go?”

If you dropped in here out of the blue and want to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[rhys-writes-some-shit]

Could I please request Alastor seeing his QP partner attacking/distracting Adam during the finale so that he could get away, and maybe some angst of Alastor knowing he can't go and help them in his near death condition, and not knowing if they're dead or alive. Spoiler they're fine you don't become close with the Radio Demon without being some sort of badass.

Sorry if this is too specific, I hope you're having a good day.

I sort of combined this one with @meefy's request (this one). It doesn't totally match the asks, so I apologize. I threw this together between classes a bit hastily, so sorry if the pacing or writing seems off.

Yeah, Reader is a little OP. Oh well.

May or may not write a continuation where Al takes care of Reader's injuries...

TW: Canon-typical violence

Let Me Help You

Alastor x Reader (QP)

There were suddenly angels fucking everywhere. Gold ichor mixed with deep red in pools on the ground. Alastor’s shield had shattered. It hadn’t even been ten minutes, and the shield was gone. 

You tried to look for Alastor on the roof, anything to show he was alright. A flash of green followed by the distinct sight of Alastor’s tentacles helped soothe your worrying, turning back to the fight at hand. He’d be okay. He was one of the most powerful demons in Hell, he had to be okay. 

Regardless, you started to fight your way to the roof, cutting angels down left and right. Your prowess in battle had started to show through, dodging expertly before retaliating effortlessly. But there were so many of them. 

The numbers became overwhelming. Angel after angel started flanking you at every angle. You were trying to keep your eye on Alastor, but you kept nearly tripping over corpses instead. An angelic spear grazed your cheek, causing you to lash out, knocking back the growing crowd before tearing them apart one by one.

A terrible sinking feeling developed in your stomach, causing your focus to go straight up. With a flash, you teleported yourself to the roof. Alastor was half-transformed, a sinister grin filling his face while his signature tentacles framed his figure.

Adam, the first man himself, was in the air, brandishing a weapon resembling a guitar.

“--Cuz radio is fucking dead!” Adam shouted, as a bright flash of light caused you to shield your eyes. 

The moment the light subsided, your eyes widened in shock. 

“What just happened?” Alastor looked around frantically, locking eyes with you before seeing his cane in his hands, snapped in half. “Fuck.”

Neither of you saw Adam fly back down, swinging his weapon down. Alastor fell back into the ground, blood dripping from a huge gaping wound in his chest.

“Alastor!” You cried, running over to stand in front of him. Staring Adam down, your face pulled into a snarl. “You motherfucker!” Adrenaline coursing through your veins, you lunged at the angel.

 

Using your lightning-fast reflexes to your advantage, you managed to dodge any attack Adam sent your way. You narrowly missed getting obliterated multiple times, but what matters is that Adam’s focus is on you. Stealing a quick glance back at where Alastor was leaning against the wall, the huge gash in his chest slowly soaking his shirt with blood, you saw him melt into the shadows while glaring heavily at Adam with his ever-present smile. 

“Oh no,” Adam mocked. “Did I just kill your boyfriend?”

“Fuck you.” You focused all your anger, all your worry, into misdirecting Adam. At this point, you were just trying to keep him busy. Luckily, you’d learned some things during your time in Hell, thanks to Alastor. Keeping Adam running back and forth wasn’t that difficult, or at least you tried to keep telling yourself that. Maybe if you tired him out, or let the others focus on the horde of angels, it would help?

Where did Alastor even go? How were you supposed to find him when he just disappeared in thin air? Was he going to be okay? What would happen if he died? Would you do if he died?

Somehow, even though you were distracted, you kept dodging Adam’s attacks. The fatigue was growing on you, though. Adam was definitely not like the other angels. Any time you tried to attack him, he dodged or countered before you could react properly. His attacks were too strong for you to take head-on, which was why you were stuck dodging everything. 

“Now this is just fucking boring,” Adam groaned. With a movement of his fingers, you found yourself on the ground with a flash of light. A burning sensation ripped a pained cry from your chest as you doubled over, coughing up blood. 

Adam kicked your side for good measure, sending you careening off the building. “Fucking pussy.” 

You mustered a portal before you hit the ground, softening your fall as you rolled into your bedroom. It still hurt, pain causing your body to spasm. Dangerous-looking burns decorated the skin on the upper half of your body. While your vision faded in and out of focus, you tried to use some of your power to heal yourself as best you could. 

The pain eased just enough that you could focus on the matter at hand: finding Alastor. At this point, you couldn’t give a shit whether angels killed everyone in Hell or not. You needed to find your partner. You needed to find Alastor. 

Hands shaking, you mentally went through a checklist of every place in Hell you’d ever been to, trying to determine where he’d have gone. 

Almost like mockery, the old radio that sat on your desk crackled faintly. Of course! Where else would Alastor be but the one place he feels most in control. 

Rather than trying to make another portal, you picked yourself up off the floor and started walking. The hotel itself was abandoned, making it easy for you to traverse the halls without interruption. Your body ached as adrenaline started to wear off, but at least you could function. Who’s to say what Alastor was capable of. 

You cringed at the memory of his wound. Not only was it long, but it looked deep, with blood steadily leaking out. Alastor’s signature red outfit and his blood was not a good combo, you decided. Yes, it might match, but it was not right. 

It didn’t take long for you to get to the recording booth near the top of the hotel, carefully making sure you stayed out of sight. Your wounds healed little by little as you walked, your natural healing factor kicking in. A few well-placed deals, and your healing was nearly ten times as fast as a regular Sinner’s.

There was no need to knock, the door hanging from its hinges. The recording booth was in massive disarray. And in the center, leaning weakly in his chair, sat the man you were looking for. 

“Alastor.” You breathed a sigh of relief at seeing him still alive, but further inspection didn’t do much to help your nerves. His breathing was shallow, expression pained but somehow still holding a strained grin. 

“What are you doing here?” His voice was sharp. 

“Helping you, obviously,” you snapped in reply. There was no first aid kit nearby, so you just ripped sections of your jacket off, forcefully shoving the scraps onto Alastor’s still-bleeding chest. 

“I do not need your help,” he snarled back. Despite his words, he didn’t try to discard the fabric you were now pressing into his wound. 

When Alastor finched, you hesitated. You didn’t want to cause him any more pain, be it physical or emotional, but you knew he’d insist on trying to deal with everything himself. You were a similar way, but he’d also do the exact same thing you were doing if the situation were reversed. 

Gritting your teeth, you forcefully held the fabric to him as it slowly became blood soaked. “Summon a damn first aid kit.”

“I said–”

“I don’t fucking care.” You raised your head, meeting Alastor’s eyes so he knew you were serious. Was your voice shaking? Maybe. Were you scared? Most definitely. Was Alastor more important? Always. “Let me help you.”

Alastor visibly deflated, bringing a hand to his face. “Fine.” His voice was stiff, defiant. With a wave of his hand, a first aid kit appeared beside you. 

You were silent as you worked, now with actual medical supplies at your disposal. Any training you’d had while you were alive all came back to you while you attempted not to make the injury any worse than it already was. 

“I wasn’t sure if you were still alive,” Alastor admitted quietly after a few minutes. “Adam was much… more than I’d anticipated. I appreciate that you allowed me to retreat.”

Pausing, you looked Alastor up and down, possibly to see if he had a head injury as well. Never, in all your years, had Alastor ever said anything so kind to you. 

“What else would I do?” You shrugged. “Leave you to die? In your dreams, maybe. We’ve been friends for so many years, I’ve lost count. So of course I helped you, you stubborn asshole. A psychopathic angel is nothing if it means helping you.”

Alastor was silent for a moment. “If Adam had killed you…” The room filled with static, Alastor’s true demon form coming out ever-so-slightly. “I was prepared to burn all of Heaven to the ground.”

“Thanks for the sentiment, Al.” Your expression softened, unable to deny the smile that grew on your face. “Now, sit up so I can secure this gauze.”

Hours later, after the hotel had been rebuilt and you were prepared to act like Soft Alastor had never happened, an arm looped in yours. Alastor stood beside you, smiling down like always. 

“Come now, dearest. It’s time for supper!” 

Something about Alastor was different now. His expression was altered. He’d seemed more defensive in the aftermath of the battle, however, he seemed to do the exact opposite around you. 

It was subtle enough that only you (and maybe Rosie) would be able to tell. Luckily, for Alastor, you were perfectly content keeping your observations to yourself.

[eskumii]

Can you pls do platonic yandere sanemi x demon child reader (that is also tanjiros and nezukos younger sibling to)

soft yandere!older brother figure!shinazugawa sanemi x child!demon!reader hcs [platonic]

TITLE: " TURBULENCE " — navi.

A/N: this contains huge manga spoilers in regards to sanemi's past/relationships!! also ,, ty for being patient annonie, if ur still there :') also i accidentally posted this b4 i finished it, so sorry if anyone saw that...

PAIRING: soft yandere!older brother figure!shinazugawa sanemi x child!demon!kamado!reader (platonic)

CHARACTERS: shinazugawa sanemi (21), reader (12), nezuko (14), tanjiro (16)

☆ sanemi hates demons.

☆ that much is clear from the spectacle he made of your older sister, nezuko, at the hashira's headquarters with that horrrible temper of his. needless to say, you don't like him at all and he clearly doesn't like you or your sister, either. it certainly doesn't help that master kagaya seems to have a sour sense of humor as you're now stuck with him as your babysitter.

☆ both tanjiro and nezuko vehemently object to master kagaya's orders. the servants of the residence had to literally rip you from the ironed grips of your older siblings, who were screaming bloody murder as if you'd be separated for the rest of eternity. they were certainly being a tad bit dramatic, but you'd be lying if you said you weren't just as upset.

☆ with the deal set in stone, however, sanemi drags you to his home as begrudgingly as humanly possible and condemns you to one of his spare bedrooms. apparently he lived alone (expected tbh) in a traditional style home, complete with the koi ponds and bamboo deer scares. it's nice, you'll give him that, but his nasty attitude doesn't seem to match the beauty of his residence.

☆ although your living conditions are less than ideal, you're old enough to know that staying under someone else's roof is almost never free. you try (keyword: try) to do what you can to help around the house but sanemi is constantly hollering at you to leave him alone or to not mess with his stuff.

☆ he insists you stay in your room and out of his way, but you still tail behind him from afar out of your debilitating boredom. if he notices, he says nothing, and simply ignores you as if you're not even there. at least when you were with tanjiro and nezuko there was always something to do—sanemi is so boring.

☆ sometimes sanemi gets really angry for seemingly no reason and at any given time. he'll storm outside and take it out on the poor practice dummies that litter his backyard, grunting in oblivious rage when he accidentally kicks one of their heads off. you're not sure what it is about you that makes him so angry; you've kind of already ruled it out as his perpetual state of being.

☆ and, well, sanemi doesn't... hate you. you remind him so much of his younger brother, genya, and most of his anger is only borne out of pain. as the eldest of the family he once knew, it's not like the instincts he acquired to take care of his siblings just went away. you simply remind him of who he used to be and the weaknesses that tore his family apart make him inexplicably angry.

☆ considering your resemblance to his late younger siblings (and genya), sanemi does get protective over you in his own ways. sometimes you meddle too close to the windows during the day, so he'll yell at you to move. or sometimes when you're scarfing down the raw meat he gives you, he yells at you to slow down lest you choke.

☆ it may seem like he's not paying attention to you at all, but he's always peeking at you with watchful eyes. he's notices that you like to watch him train but can't be out in the sun, so he hung up a blanket in the branches of a nearby tree without saying a word to you. you smile knowing that you're growing on him.

☆ during the evening, sanemi often catches you out in the garden picking flowers. usually he'd shrug his shoulders and turn his nose up, but he felt compelled to see what you were doing out there all the time. plus, he couldn't have you wandering out beyond the walls.

☆ "what're you doin', kid?" sanemi's booming voice scares you and you drop your basket of colorful flowers on the ground with a squeak. you scramble to gather them again and you're surprised to see a pair of scarred hands helping out, too.

☆ "i'm gonna make flower crowns for when tanjiro and nezuko get back." you answer once all the flowers are back in the basket. sanemi snorts. "flower crowns?"

☆ you nod. "yup! here, i'll show you how to make one." sanemi has zero time to refuse as you grab his hand and pull him down onto the grass with you. you take a length of string that you had stolen from one of his many rooms of junk and began to attach the flowers to it with a clever weaving pattern.

☆ sanemi is fuming in embarrassment as you eagerly teach him how to make a stupid flower crown. this is ridiculous. but why can't he just get up and leave? when you hand him the string of flowers to try it out for himself, your childish giggling is contagious as he fumbles clumsily and accidentally crushes the delicate stem in his callous grip.

☆ in the end, sanemi finds himself enjoying making flower crowns with you, but he threatens you violently with a ruffle of your hair should you tell anyone about it. he would never admit it but as he looks at the crudely made flower crown that you helped him with, he feels a distantly familiar feeling of warmth igniting in his heart again.

☆ the rest of the days you spend with sanemi begin to feel more pleasant than it did initially. sanemi no longer leaves you to your own devices, but instead tries to find things for you to do during the day when you can't go outside. he'll bring you puzzles and teach you how to read with children's folktales written on tarnished scrolls that he said he kept from his old family home.

☆ you're not sure what happened, but sanemi dotes on you now. once you had tripped and split your finger open, and sanemi rushed to your side like it had been your head. it healed within a few seconds, but sanemi still scolded you for walking around unsupervised.

☆ and when you get feverish due to your refusal of eating human flesh, which is often, sanemi tarries by your side day and night in order to make sure you're as comfortable as can be. cold, damp towels on your forehead, fresh raw meat at your bedside, and anything else you want, he gets for you. the worry etched into the lines of his forehead shows how much he cares about you.

☆ by the time tanjiro and nezuko return from their mission to collect you, sanemi doesn't even want to let you go. in fact, you've both grown attached to each other and while you're overjoyed to see your siblings again, sanemi has also become something like an older brother to you. you've grown to love the big residence and his presence.

☆ you're in tears as sanemi pats your head and smiles crookedly at you for what feels like the last time. you beg tanjiro to let you stay longer but he firmly tells you no. sanemi makes tanjiro promise that he'll take you to visit him or else he'll kill him (he's serious).

☆ when you inevitably depart from sanemi (tanjiro has to pry you away from him), he feels about as lonely as the day is long. the residence feels too big without you following behind him like his own shadow, and every time he turns a corner he half-expects to find you doing something to cause trouble.

☆ sanemi takes the flower crown you both made and seals it in a glass jar. he hopes that you'll visit again before it withers, or else he might just go out and find you himself.