#Born Again Wallpapers

[docplaugedraws]

“And I….I have shown him… a man without hope is a man without fear.”

[marvelsgirl616]

» » made a phone wallpaper/lock screen of the new daredevil: born again logo.

[barleyo]

Rural Bliss.

Real Dad! Leon X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: You, as a reader, are responsible for your own media consumption. It is up to you to read the tags that I have provided and determine whether or not this is a piece of writing that you would like to partake in. If not, scroll on by, if you do, please enjoy! Remember, I am not responsible for any discomfort you feel if you choose to read this.

Tags: incest (daddy-daughter), dub-con, oral (f receiving), LARGE AGE GAP (18 and 40+), pwp (light plot), mentions of predatory behavior, mutual creepiness, dark and disturbing content, choppy ass writing

Wordcount: 1.8k

!!! DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT/DARK CONTENT !!!

Your mom had finally done it. She found a halfway decent guy and let him wife her up faster than you could say 'I do.' You weren't exactly mad about it. He was a decent enough guy, and he made your mom happy, so whatever. The only part that you were against was the fact that you would be staying with your estranged father for the rest of your summer until your mom and her boy-toy got back from their extensive honeymoon.

Your dad fucked off pretty quickly after you were born. Moved himself far away into the middle of nowhere, not once reaching out or keeping in touch. A small part of you wanted to know him, but a larger part of you was pissed that you would have to now temporarily live with a man who you could just barely remember the name of. 

What was it again? Leonard? Lucas? No, no, that's not right. Leon? Yeah, something like that. Leon. 

Leon, the man who left you and your mom. The man who, instead of raising you, decided to lick his wounds in the deep country, likely making a meager living off of growing potatoes and carrots. The man who was a stranger, connected to you only by blood. 

The man whose front porch you were currently standing on, banging on his door without a care in the world. You looked around while you knocked. It was a large bit of land. A few neighbors nearby, but not within spitting distance. At the very least, this town had a few stores with maybe a few people your age lingering around them. 

"I'm coming, damn it!" His steps were loud, you could hear them from all the way outside. The heaviness of his work boots must've weighed him down quite a bit. The screen door flew open and his face softened. "Oh, hey kid. Didn't know you'd be here so early. Come in." 

You followed him inside, letting your eyes trail his face and frame. You'd only seen a picture or two of him before. He wasn't quite what you were expecting. He looked a lot older now than he did in the photos. More tired, less lively. His crow's feet and smile lines stuck out, but if the lonely, uncomfortable vibe of his house was any clue, you assumed he hadn't been smiling much in his life. 

He wasn't bad looking, though. Time hasn't weathered him, and you could tell he took care of himself. His arms and chest looked strong, clearly he had found some way to stay fit out in his desolate chunk of farmer-country. You could see why your mom picked him. He looked like a good one, despite his fleeting nature. 

"You're gonna be stayin' for a few months, yeah?" Leon didn't seem uncomfortable with your presence, so you felt a bit more calm.

"Yeah, I guess so. Mom didn't really give me all the details, just kinda sprung it on me."

"Believe me, I know," he said under his breath. "Well, this place isn't much, 'm sure it's not what you're used to." He locked the door behind you and flashed an apologetic look. 

"It's fine. I'll make it work." You looked around. It looked lived in, strangely worn despite nobody else ever living there.

He led you down a dimly lit hallway, the floorboards groaning beneath their weight, until they reached a single room. It was a small bedroom, adorned with faded wallpaper and completely wooden furniture. The single window offered a glimpse of the bare, green landscape outside. 

"This'll be your room. You can unpack your things."

Hardly a week passed by and you were already sick to death of living with your dad. His jokes were bad. His cooking was shit. His attempts at bonding with you were creepy at best and damn near-assault at worst. He let his hands drift all over you when he pulled you in for hugs and tried pecking a kiss on your mouth before you went off to bed each night, and damn it, you let him.

Again and again, every night, letting that old man press his chapped lips against yours, holding back your urge to force your tongue into his mouth.

He bought you gifts that no other fathers would think about getting their daughters. Skimpy little clothes that left nothing to the imagination, while he wrote it off by claiming ignorance.

"That's what girls your age wear, right? I can't keep up with what you kids are into," Leon would say, covering his ass with feigned dopiness. 

His only redeeming quality was that he was hot and mostly oblivious. It was fucked up to think about it that way, but without having much other male contact during your stay, Leon was starting to becoming quite the piece of eye candy. The best part is that he thought nothing of it, acting like his teenaged daughter spending hours staring at his half-naked, sweaty body while he worked in the hot sun was normal. Just another day. Nothing special. 

He didn't make you work on the farm with him, so you got to do all the watching. You got to see those strong arms lift hay bales for the horses and chop trees for firewood. Most of your days were spent watching him from the front porch, mentally cursing yourself out when you felt your thighs clench together instinctually at his sexy movements. 

What was wrong with you? 

Were years of fatherlessness finally catching up to you? Couldn't muster any real love for the old man, so sexual yearning was the next best thing? Eye-fucking your dad and sharing touches that lasted too long were the cost of him skipping out on you.

You rationalized it the best you could. Maybe you didn't actually want him, maybe the solitude of the countryside was getting to you. Maybe there was something in the air, some kind of sex-pollen floating in the breeze that made you wanna get bent over by a man twice your age that just so happened to be related to you. Closely related.

Leon didn't really know how to treat a woman well, but he tried his best with you. It was his first time really being a dad, but honestly, he hated it. Being a 'dad' sucked, especially when he'd rather have his daughter as his girlfriend. 

You made him so frustrated, so unsure of himself. Leon's only experience with girl's your age was in getting them liquor they couldn't legally buy themselves, fucking them like plastic sex dolls, and leaving them for someone else to woo and screw. 

He couldn't quite do that to you, though. He couldn't get you drunk and take advantage of you, pumping and dumping in you without a care about your pleasure. He had to take care of you, your health and comfort. All he really wanted was to take care of your body.

You were his little girl. He'd fuck you like he actually gave a damn about you if he ever got the chance, and he most definitely wouldn't be leaving you for anyone else.

That type of thinking brought him here. 

"Daddy, please..."

The walls in his house were too damn thin. He could practically hear each thrust of your fingers into your cunt from his bedroom. Your bed screeched agonizingly against the floors, punctuating your moans and hisses of pleasure. 

He saw his opportunity and took it. He had waited long enough, and this was the least he could do, right? You needed him, right? Right.

He pushed your door open, not having the decency nor the self-restraint to knock. You felt your body go still, but kept your hands between your legs. 

"If you needed me, coulda told me. Don't like t'hear you in here whining." Leon sat on the edge of your bed, crawling his way between your legs. "Fuck, that's pretty." 

He took in the sight of your fingers stuffed into your pudgy cunt, slick dripping between each digit. 

"No, you're—! this isn't what it—" you tried prying your fingers out, but a strong hand wrapped around your wrist to keep you in place.

"Isn't what it looks like? How about what it sounds like, huh? Sounds like you want your daddy to dull that ache in you." 

He was so far gone. He normally never did this. Leon was a man who took. He took younger girls virginity, mouth, pussy, or other. He was the one that got sucked off and got his perv dick wet. But for his baby? You, the little nymph who fell gracefully into his grasp? He was foaming at the mouth for a chance to slurp your pussy.

"Open up, come on. Got nothin' to be shy about," he urged, forcing your legs open, pulling your fingers out, and shimmying closer to you. "Nothin' I haven't seen before."

That was somewhat of a lie. Sure, he saw pussies all the time when he bullied his cock into them, but he was normally never nose to clit, ready to lick.

He stuck his needy tongue out, lapping up the juices that you worked up when you rubbed yourself raw. He swirled around you clit as a test, trying to see what felt good for you. He soon settled on puckering his lips around your bud and sucking, swapping his spit in and out of his mouth to keep you lubed up. 

Your voice broke with hushed whines and chants. Yes's and oh's rang out, filling Leon's ears and his ego. 

He pulled his head back and lob a wad of spit onto your clit, chuckling when you shivered. 

"Feel good?" His thumb traced your clit in little figure eights. 

"Mm, s'good." Your hands trailed through his thick, soft hair. You gripped it tightly, pulling his head back to your cunt. "No, don't stop, jus' need your mouth again."

His sharp, strong nose bumped against the top of your pussy while he munched down on you greedily. His tongue traveled around you in an indecisive manner. One moment, he was using flat strokes to lick on your swollen nub, then pointing his tongue while he fucked it in and out of you. 

Despite the sporadic nature of it, the warmth and wetness of the contact of his mouth on you felt like heaven. It didn't matter what he was doing, as long as he was looking up at you with his piercing eyes and swallowing down your slick, you were satisfied.

"Dad, oh my God, yes!" It felt like venom coming off of your tongue when you moaned it, but tasted like honey at the same time. Something about it was so wrong, but felt so natural.

As your legs tightened around Leon's head and trapped him between your thighs, you knew it was meant to be. You were meant to be your daddy's princess. You were meant to feel like mouth on you, to be spoiled by his tongue, words, money, and his cock. You had been missing out on it for so long. 

You spent the rest of your summer making up for lost time, discovering just what having a daddy was meant to feel like.

[evergone]

I'm [Nott] a Bad Person

Theodore Nott x Reader

Warnings: swearing, bullying

Description: The reader and Theo are accused of causing a fight, but they swear they didn't do it.

Professor McGonagall’s office was a little too **Gryffindor-esque for your tastes. The couches, wallpaper, and even the rug on the floor underneath her desk were all some shade of dark red and you had no other way to describe it other than ‘detestably Gryffindor.’ Even so, the fireplace opposite the door warmed the room and gave it that undeniably homey feel you always got when you returned to Hogwarts after the long, hot break between years. She had a few paintings hanging from her walls, but either the subjects were busy elsewhere or she just had a thing for landscapes. One in particular caught your eye, a painting of the Forbidden Forest where you had certainly never been. After all, it was forbidden and you, ever the obedient Slytherin, would never break a rule.

“Do you know why you are here?” The professor asked and your attention slid back to the situation you were in.

“I know why they’re here,” Theo responded from your left, “But Y/n and I are victims.”

“Oh, please, you lot started this whole thing!” Granger squeaked like that little mouse the weasel kid used to have.

“Do you ever shut up, Granger?” Theo retorted.

Your lips tightened as you attempted to stifle a laugh and Theo sent you a quick smirk. McGonagall cleared her throat, again regaining your limited attention span as she tapped impatiently on her brown wooden desk; creating a dum-dum, dum-dum sound under the pads of her fingers like a heartbeat. Furrowed brows and an intense stare told you more than enough about her absolutely foul mood, and you reminded yourself not to play around with her.

“Each of you, tell me the story,” she said, “You first, Mister Potter.”

Theo muttered an ‘of course’ under his breath but you pretended not to hear it. If anyone was to get in trouble you were going to make damn sure it wasn’t you. You had a reputation to uphold; the nicest Slytherin anyone would ever meet. A façade, obviously, you were just as ruthless and cunning as your housemates, but the nice façade was what made you so. It was truly a shame Potter and co. had found you out, but you intended to cover your ass so well that no one else would ever know the truth about you, save for your friends.

“Well, uh…” Potter began to recount his version of the tale.

Apparently (and I say ‘apparently’ because despite his story being almost entirely accurate, you were going to make up a completely different one to get away with this), he had come to you in a free period to ask about how to befriend dragons quickly, knowing as well as most that your family had been breeding dragons since the dawn of dragonology. You were skeptical of him, having never quite interacted with him directly, only through the wild stories Draco or Pansy would tell you or small altercations in the halls that you always pulled Theo away from. Draco could do as he wished but you wouldn’t see yourself or your boyfriend being implicated in his shenanigans.

“I’m not supposed to talk to you,” you had told Potter.

“And why’s that?” He asked.

“All my friends say that you’re — and I’m quoting them here — ‘a mudblood mingling cunt,’” you said, “And though I have no care in the world for blood purity, I do like my friends quite a bit. They wouldn’t hang out with me if I got caught with you.”

You always had a wonderful way of putting things. Your monotonous voice mixed with your incredibly harsh words made for the most readable and expressive conversations. Potter’s little muggle born girlfriend (or girl friend, whichever it was) had almost jumped out of her own socks at your foul language. Personally offended, perhaps? You didn’t mean to hurt her, it just sort of slipped out. Maybe if you were actually a nicer person you’d apologise.

“Just… give me a hand? I know you helped Cedric,” Potter pleaded.

You shrugged, “I really can’t talk to you,” you said, “Though… I am weak to bribery… Maybe if you find me something I want I’ll help you out. Bye.”

And then you pushed through the group to go find your friends who you were bound to find eating in the courtyard instead of studying. Smart kids never studied and neither did dumb kids. When Crabbe and Goyle were there it was easy to tell the difference, but other times, not so much. Allegedly (again, I say this to protect the integrity of the tale you would later tell), you stopped half a step through and turned to show Potter your badge.

“Draco says you really like them,” you laughed, “Get a closer look.”

Desperate for your help and willing to do anything, Potter leaned closer to watch as the red ‘Support Cedric’ turned to the green ‘Potter stinks’ but then a forth colour emerged, a deep purple with no writing. He opened his mouth to ask what that colour meant, but was abruptly cut off when the badge squirted the most revolting smelling purple goo all over him. Again, allegedly, you had cursed it to do that when it saw his face… You would argue that someone must have cursed it prior to giving it to you without your knowing.

“Now you really do stink!” You had smiled sarcastically, “Bye now.”

You then continued on your journey to find your friends, leaving Potter drenched in the most malodorous thing he had ever smelt.

Later that very same day, he had approached you at lunch with a bribe. Oh, how you loved to be bribed. You were like a politician in that sense. He placed two objects in front of you: a book you knew was from the restricted section titled ‘Advanced Curses and How to Master Them,’ and a purse full of coins which, after peeking through the opening at the top, you realised were all gold.

“You know, you shouldn’t bribe people so out in the open, Potter,” You motioned to Theo, Pansy and Draco, all of whom were giving you looks that asked what in the name of Salazar were you doing, “It’s… counterproductive.”

“Merlin’s beard, L/n, just take it and help me,” Potter said.

“Is he bothering you, Y/n?” Theo asked.

You’d glanced between your boyfriend and Potter, wondering what to do in the situation. Potter noticed you’d become flustered at being put on the spot like that, even mentioned it to McGonagall. Truthfully, your head was telling you to say no because you knew as well as anyone how Theo could be when you were uneasy. He was awfully protective. But your heart wanted you to say yes so you could start a little fight and make your friends and Theo proud. You were never quite as provocative as they were when it came to the whole Slytherin-Gryffindor thing and it made you slightly self conscious, to be honest.

You would tell McGonagall that your head won, and Potter had started the fight. Theo was only defending you from the very scary Gryffindor who had decided to attack you just because you didn’t want to help him out earlier. But, in all honesty, your heart had won, or so the story goes.

“Yes, Teddy, he’s been bothering me all day,” you had said.

“How ‘bout you leave, Potter?” Theo asked, but it was hardly a question.

Potter rolled his eyes, “We had a deal, L/n.”

“I don’t think she would’ve agreed to anything with you,” Theo said and (allegedly) shoved Potter from across the table.

It was at that point that all hell broke loose. Potter’s explanation of the situation was riddled with what you would call lies about getting his shit rocked by Theo’s incredible fighting skills. You’d bloodied your boyfriend up afterwards using a little glamour charm you kept handy in case of emergencies. That was yet another way you were like a politician, you were incredible at deceiving people. On the off chance McGonagall noticed the charm, Theo had agreed to take the fall and stage an argument with you where you’d break up with him. The relationship wouldn’t be destroyed, you’d just act strained for a week or so while he did detention.

“Miss L/n, these are a lot of accusations being thrown,” McGonagall said, her eyes staring down at you over her nose, “What say you?”

You let your bottom lip quiver, but you wouldn’t dare cry. That would be too much and she wouldn’t believe you for a second. You may have had a good reputation, but she loved Potter and co. and had a huge bias in their favour. You had to be so convincing that she wouldn’t have a single doubt.

“I just didn’t want to get involved,” you said, “Professor, I’m a Slytherin, there’s a certain… standard that I’m held to. I told Potter that I didn’t want to help him because everyone would be upset with me and he tried to bribe me of his own accord.”

“She’s obviously lying, Professor, please—”

“Miss Granger, Miss L/n didn’t interrupt your telling of events, I suggest you don’t interrupt hers.”

You continued to lie through your teeth like a professional. You’d think McGonagall would know to use a truth serum when dealing with teenagers, but she was too trusting. Photographs of former students were framed on her desk, others who likely lied to her as you were doing. They were mostly Gryffindors, for obvious reasons, but there were Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs and the odd Slytherin as well, all of them moving slightly in celebration of their graduations. Potter and co. would likely end up on that desk one day and while you’d hope yourself and your friends would end up on Snape’s, he had never come across as the sentimental type.

“One of you aren’t telling me the truth,” McGonagall said with a sigh once you had finished your recount, “Know that I’m disappointed in you but I cannot be bothered to deal with this today. If I hear about troubles with you lot again I will not hesitate to give you all detention.”

A chorus of ‘yes, Professor’s filled the room before she shooed you all out to go your separate ways. At the door to her office which she had closed behind the four of you, or rather, the two and two of you, Theo turned to the others.

“Don’t start things you can’t finish, Potter,” he said with a snarky tone.

Potter and Granger hardly acknowledged the remark, and you found yourself missing the weasel boy who would have leapt at the opportunity to throw something back. At your core, you liked to consider yourself morally good, but Merlin’s beard, you were a bit of an instigator, perhaps even a bully, weren’t you? You glanced at Theo, who you hadn’t realised had begun a little bit of a rant about blood superiority, and laughed out loud.

“What?” He asked you, his head on the slightest tilt that it was hardly noticeable.

“I think you and the others have turned me into a bad person,” you giggled, biting your lip.

“Y/n/n, that’s so fucking mean,” he said, “You are so rude.”

“I learnt from the best,” you teased as you poked his arm.

Theo shook his head and captured your arm in his so the two of you could walk back to the Slytherin dorms together.

[seraphimaa]

Doll for a day - Part 2

Soft(ish)!Raphael x fem!Tav x Haarlep

Raphael sets out the terms for his forgiveness. After all, it’s not nice to feel left out.

Or

Raphael makes her fuck his incubus in front of him and then tests her dedication.

Warnings: selfish idiots with feelings

PART 1

She can’t stop her face from cringing. It’s all the confirmation he needs and he falls into silence, processing. He is furious, yes, but he can’t help the faint relief that is flooding him. The board is still in play. Her mouth forms the shapes of letters but nothing seems to come out. She takes a breath, utters only the word, “leaving”, like he’s supposed to find reassurance in it, and turns to flop onto her stomach, beginning to drag herself by her arms towards the edge of the bed.

“No.” She feels his thighs clench to hold her own, the thick ropes of muscle halting her movement. Her face hits the silk and she lets herself simply collapse in defeat under the master of the house. “What the hells is wrong with you? You come into my house, look at my things, touch my things, fuck my things.” He’s spitting with rage the more he rambles and with every word she pushes her head further and further into the covers, half in an attempt to smother herself.

“Then you think you can just what? Scamper off? Tell me, Tav, is your sheer aptitude for being this insufferable nature, or nurture? Did somebody drop you on your head as an infant, or were you simply born this way?”

“Born...” Her words are barely comprehendible through the bedding. He grunts in acknowledgement and takes a break from frowning at the detailing in the wallpaper to look down at the fleshy heap. She looks pathetic and entirely resigned.

“And what, on all of the planes, were you ever hoping to achieve, pray tell?” Her shoulders shrug limply. “Hm.” He hums, unimpressed, and lets her stew in the silence until he hears her again, clearly desperate to move things along .

“No reason.”

“Oh thank goodness,” her ears perk at the happy tone, “I find so much comfort in knowing you would cause all of this chaos for no reason at all.” Never mind.

“And what did you plunder and soil?” He sniffs indignantly, “other than my sheets and incubus.”

He expects another short, mumbled response but instead he feels her begin to shake under him rhythmically. For a brief moment, he thinks she’s laughing like a maniac but then he hears her sobs.

Her head lifts just enough for her cries to ring clearly. “I’m sorry! Okay? I payed that lady to open the portal. I don’t know what I was thinking. I promise. I wasn’t going to touch anything, just look. Then I ended up here and you were here too and you were so nice but it wasn’t you but he looked so good and he felt so good and I didn’t want to stop, I couldn’t, I don’t know what I was thinking-I wasn’t thinking!” It all comes out in a jumble and her head flops down again as she shudders in another wave of sobs. Haarlep’s tail can be heard wagging against the sheets absently, only paying attention the indirect praise aimed his way.

For what feels like the hundredth time in one day, he heaves a massive sigh. It feels like an eternity that the scene drags on. Raphael ponders whether this is all a cruel, fated karma playing out. He considers what sins it were that landed him in the constant circus show that he appeared to ringlead daily. He looks at the three of them, on the bed, and thinks that they would fit perfectly on renaissance style painting. Haarlep is crouched with knees to the side, looking every part the demonic gargoyle of a creature that Raphael considers him to be, tail wagging in the air and looking very pleased with himself. His mouse is splayed dramatically on the bed like a tortured damsel, wailing and he is slumped in his own pose of enduring anguish. He considers giving her a further tongue wagging but she appears to be torturing herself just fine for now. Hells, you’d think she was the victim here.

Her sobs hiccup as she feels Raphael twist and rise from the bed. She cranes, terrified to see what kind of torture he is about to impose on her but her puffy, wet face is met with the curve of his bare spine and hips as he strides to the desk against right wall. She definitely doesn’t look at the jiggle of fat on his ass as he stomps over and throws himself back into the chair. She definitely doesn’t look anywhere in particular as he reclines back, neck craned at a sharp angle over the back of the oak. His eyes snap to hers, and he crosses his legs with a frown, and she averts her gaze to the wall beside his head for no related reason. He tears open a drawer and brings out a dusty bottle of vintage. He busies himself with uncorking the bottle, and pulls out a glass. He fills it without any grace, almost overflowing the rim then knocks it back, taking his time before he swallows it down. She’s tempted to ask him what comes next but the withering look he shoots her way as she intakes air to begin makes the words die on her tongue. She swallows with an awkward nod and settles her face back into the covers. She is good at ruminating and wallowing. This is fine. Even the incubus seems to pick up on the sudden lack of energy in the room and he flops back wriggling around, fluttering his wings and swishing his tail, as he gets into a comfortable position. His leg thumps her own and he whines until she shuffles over, half hanging over the edge. He mimics the brooding duo and lets out a sigh, his own airy and perfectly content.

Raphael is surprisingly the first to break the peace.

“Why did you sleep with it?”

There’s hesitation in his tone, almost like he couldn’t decide if he truly wants the answer. She is completely caught off guard and lifts her head after some thought, enough to respond but not enough to have to face him as as she does.

“It was just a really bad mistake.”

Haarlep seems to take offence to this, his tail whipping her leg as it beats back and fourth in protest but he stays silent, intent on listening to this play out.

“No,” his tone is wary but he speaks like this is something important to him, “you knew the risk. As much as you would like to galavant through life like a court jester, you are smart. What was it exactly that made you decide to take that miscalculated risk?”

“I don’t know! I was, I was just…” She seems to sway between deflection and truth but eventually finds her answer.

“I was just desperate.” He cocks an eyebrow as if deciding on how to perceive her words but when her face emerges pink and swollen from the sheets, intense and ugly, altogether striking, he sees the burning honestly. “Really desperate.”

“Excuse me!” Haarlep cranes to look at her, wings flaring, entirely offended. He is not reading the silent layers of communication happening amongst the rude guests of in his little sanctuary. “And just what, exactly, are you trying to imply? Don’t act like I didn’t have you mewling happy as a kitten, eyes crossed in bliss as you bounced yourself around dumb and drunk on my cock. Don’t act like you didn’t throw yourself at the chance to come undone under me, specifically. You said that you needed him, me, raw and undiluted. No rude lies on my bed, please.” It is the first time, in the short span they’d shared together, that she’d seen the fiend seem truly displeased. They both pointedly ignore his bruised ego and the implications of his words.

“And what was it, exactly, you were so desperate for?” She gives a small shake of her head in protest of what he is trying to drag out of here.

“I just wanted to be touched.”

“Then you would have gone to the brothel. Try again.”

“I wanted to be touched by someone who I knew.”

“Then you would have crawled your way into the tent of one of your willing companions long ago, I’m sure. I’m tired, little mouse.” She builds her courage enough to glance at him through damp lashes and he really is slumped in utter defeat. He’s nursing a new glass, and his face has never looked so tired. It feels violating to witness him like this, even more so than seeing him naked ever had. he takes in her face, full of fear and pain. She looks like saying it might break her, like it’s the last thing she wants to do. She looks at him like he is cruel, and she is begging him to spare her. His face hardens and he drains the last in his glass, not hesitating to empty the bottle in its place.

“I..” he trails off, before shaking his head and standing up, throwing his hand out dismissively.

“Forget I said anything. Go. Get dressed. I’ll organise a portal out.” She openly balks at him. “But what about-“ he doesn’t wait for her to finish.

“Please. You’ve done enough. Spare both our dignities any further blows for one day and just go.” He falls back into his chair, tapping his finger on the desk impatiently, staring into the liquid crimson in his hand. She swings herself up, sitting with her back to him and she is glad for the fact because once again, to her frustration, her eyes blur with tears. She feels like everything is crashing down upon her and the reality of the day is setting in, finally. This is unfixable. She’d taken a running jump over every boundary they constructed and respected until now. It was like a game. The flirting, the teasing, the goading. It was relentless, but they both played by the same unspoken rules. They were both smarter than to fall for the words the other spun. It had felt, in a way, safe. But she isn’t smart. Somewhere along the way she’d come to anticipate their next encounter. She felt a flutter in her stomach when he smiled down at her, so dashing and smug. She played their conversations over and over again when alone, trying to spy a crack in his performance, a subtle sign that he harboured his own strange fondness for her. She’d replaced the face of the imaginary companion with his when he brought herself to completion late at night. If she leaves now, there’s no going back. She decides to speak before she can change her mind. If she walks away then he’d take this as her final answer. It would mean whatever they had would be over.

“No.” She stands from the bed. She ignores the withering look she shoots her and strides around the bed. “I’m not going. You can’t make me.” He is close to reminding her that this is very much not the case but she keeps coming closer, stopping when her legs bump his knees and suddenly her hand is around the glass, brushing his, as she pulls it from his grip and tips it back. The liquid seeps around the seam and drizzles down her chin, falling and painting her nude frame. She finishes it with a gasp and sets it back into the desk, he holds his breath as she leans over him but she keeps her gaze detached from his. She plonks herself onto the bed, facing him.

“I was desperate for you. I just wanted you. I couldn’t have it so I took what I could. Im a greedy, selfish, depraved asshole and I know I really messed everything up but you can’t just send me away. You have to forgive me. I’m not leaving here until you forgive me. I’ll stay right here, as long as it takes, but you have to tell me what it is that I need to do. Please, Raphael, how do I fix it?”

She begins so doubt herself the longer he remains catatonic and brooding but at last he humours her.

“You’ve found a way to rewind time, my sweet little fool?” She shakes her head but isn’t willing to give up now that she had his attention.

“Without hindsight I’d have done it again, to be honest. Something else. Realistic, maybe.” She’s slowly gaining back that deplorable attitude and confidence.

“Watch your mouth, mouse. Remember exactly what has landed you here. If you want my forgiveness then I should know exactly what I am forgiving.” She quirks a brow at this, feeling an uneasy flutter at the way his face morphs to a determined smile, as if setting a challenge he expects her to fail.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Well,” he crosses one leg over the other and his posture is creeping back into its usual confidence, “how could I ever forgive you when you went behind my back and now, when asked to simply take responsibility and admit to everything, you wail like a bairn. One would be led to believe that it was your form that had been violated so rudely from across the planes from all this hysteria. It’s madness.” They glare at each other as he lays his condition before her.

“I need to even the playing field, Tav. Any embarrassment you have caused me will be returned tenfold. You see, I’m starting to feel rather left out. Like the only one not in on your little joke. You will show me as everything that happened after you entered this room. Your recreation must be convincing enough to make me believe the words you say and you will show me every detail of how it happened.”

He watches as she rises at once with a yelp.

“I’m sorry, you want me to do what?”

“Haarlep does love to put on a show. Quite the performer. All you need to do is read the lines as they were written. You should be familiar with them as you did write them yourself, did you not?” Haarlep lets out a happy sound behind her. She falls to her knees, reaching for his legs.

“Please. Eternal torture, death, anything but this.”

His foot kicks to smack her beggar hands away.

“Oh feeling embarrassed? Humiliated? Violated? My, my, mouse, quite a turn of a tables, is it not?”

She glares up and tries to feign dignity as she clambers back onto her feet.

“And if I do it then everything will go back to normal? Forgiven and forgotten.” He considers her phrasing.

“Forgiven? Why of course. I am a man of my word after all.” She puffs herself up and turns, making her way to behind the pool partition. She emerges from the far side, walking in an unintentionally exaggerated manner, every single movement screaming discomfort. She gasps loudly in surprise at the incubus on the bed, lounging back in character.

“Gracious, Raphael, your buxom bosom is exposed to the elements.” She raises her hand to her forehead, feigning as if to faint at the sight. It draws a giggle from Haarlep and a groan from Raphael. Can’t please everyone, she supposes.

“That’s strike one. On the third I’ll drop you into the middle of the sea with a snap of my fingers. I swear it.” She gawks at him as he sneers at her, entirely unimpressed. He was definitely not in the mood.

At his instruction, she begins the scene agin, from the top. This time she echos her words, verbatim.

“Ah, Raphael! Why…are you dressed like that?” She was not born for the stage, but it will do. Haarlep is bristling with excitement as he begins his part of the act. Ah, Roleplay! How exciting!

“My, my. Is that a little mouse skittering through my house?” His grin is as devilish as she remembers it. “How very naughty. Come to serve yourself to the cat? What a surprising course of events indeed.” She studies him as she recites his greeting to her just as he had.

“You’re not Raphael. You look different. Younger. Who are you really?” Haarlep smirks.

“I’m impressed. Very perceptive of you, indeed.” He raises onto his knees, legs spread and muscles rippling as he balances his weight. His abdomen is adorned with keratin ridges leading and pointing down to-no. She wasn’t looking there. She had, but she will safeguard the shreds remaining of her dignity where she can. He doesn’t have to know that.

“My name is Haarlep. You’d do well to remember it for you may just find me drawing it from your lips, like prayer. Very soon.” His hands are spread wide, inviting her to bask in his form. He look like he’s carved from scarlet marble. Like an angel. She instantly remembers exactly how she’d fallen to ruin to quickly. He’s so convincing that she almost forgets that she hasn’t really been taken back to that moment. She does not have to fake the way she freezes under charm of the incubus.

“The master must attend to business. I’m afraid he’s currently buried so deep into his work. You should know that he likes to finish very quickly.”

Raphael grunts, storing this for when he next wanted to berate the demon spawn. Haarlep breaks character to throw a glare over his shoulder.

“What? You said to recreate it exactly.”

“Shut up, Harlot.” He sighs, waving his hand. “Continue.”

The incubus’s gaze is instantly locked back onto hers as he resumes his act and again, he drinks her in. it’s like everything else in the room disappears.

“How lucky you are little mouse. He should not be back for quite some time. You’re all alone with me.” She holds her ground, as dangerous as he looks when he falls onto his hands and begins to prowl towards her. “I propose a little game. One I simply insist you must play before you go. If you don’t, well then I’d just have to assume we’re not friends. If were not friends then you’d be intruding and I would simply have to tell.” Haarlep, and reaches to grab her hands, giving them a light squeeze. She’d looked so scared the first time.

“Come on. I promise it’s not a mean game. I won’t make you do anything bad. I promise. Trust me. Play with me.” His smile is so sweet and gentle that she melts all over again.

“O-ok.”

“Oh goodie! Here are the rules. I ask you one question. Just one! You must tell me the truth. I will know if you lie to me. That’s all.” She frowns, not believing that it could be so easy.

“Oh come now. I won’t tell a soul. Nobody will ever know. It’ll be our little secret. I promise.” She nods and the breath leaves her as the incubus surges towards her. She doesn’t flinch this time, as his face brushes hers. Instead of going for the kiss he teases near her open mouth, he presses his lips to her ear, hissing his question.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

As she had before, she turns, locking eyes with the sultry, demonic slits. Their faces touch from proximity. True to her actions, instead of answering aloud, she closes the distance. She’d been so lost in the spell he must have cast on her when they’d met. There was no other explanation for why she’d been so overcome. But then, why was she feeling it all over again?

The incubus sighs against her mouth as their tongues dance and she’s pulled on top of him. He had undressed her as she lapped the venom straight from his mouth but they are both already naked this time. She grinds and squirms on top of him as the venom begins to seep straight to her head and loins. A heat spreads through her abdomen, hot as coals, and she can feel the trial she’s drooling onto his hard abdomen as she grinds against the rough, leathery skin. The room spins and that drunk feeling washes over her all over again.

She almost forgets that they are not alone, so focussed on the forked tip of his tongue playing with hers and the friction his scaled body is offering. He flips them around and it makes her stomach clench as he pins her below himself. She pants as he pulls away from her, desperately trying to catch her breath and ground herself in reality. Her eyes open and her stomach flops again when she sees Raphael, watching her intently, upside down. Their eyes lock and his lips part slightly as he looks down at her. wild and flushed, completely under the effects of the tainted saliva.

Haarlep fills her view again, coming back down to capture her lips. His hands brush her, his fingers curling though her hair as his thumbs dance over her cheeks. He cradles her face, joining them once more. His hands trail down, one travelling her collar bone and down her arm. It captures her hand in his. The other trails from her collar bone, fingers teasing against the fat of her breast as it tickles down and comes to caress the hardened bud. She whines into the kiss as the smouldering heat flickers to burning and another wave of slick dools from her. His fingers pinch and flick as she grinds and thrusts up at him, desperate for more. She needs to be closer. She needs him inside. He growls a laugh as his hips slam back on top of hers, pinning her to the mattress. Gods, now she understands how they ruined the sheets.

“What an enthusiastic answer, little mouse. Have you been waiting for this? To feel me on top of you?” The first time he’d asked she’d been completely taken by the fantasy that he really was Raphael but now, she was absently aware of his presence elsewhere. His hand tails down the curve of her stomach, toying at the mound of her push, not quite close enough to where she needed it. Now he was truly Haarlep in her eyes and she burned for him all the same.

“Say it. Say that you’re desperate for me. Admit now that I was the only one that you wanted when you came here, that you wouldn’t have done this for any other. I won’t touch you again until you take back your cruel words from before.” She lets out a yelp, squirming with fury and glaring daggers into his beautiful face.

“You didn’t say that!” The incubus giggles and raises his eyebrows, waiting.

“Strike two. Last warning.”

“WHAT? That was him!”

“At least he stayed in character.”

The incubus is all shades of smug, tail wagging.

“Ugh. Fine.” A finger dipping just a breath from her clit drags her back into under his spell and he hums in anticipation.

“Yes,” she chokes, “I only wanted you. I only needed you. I just want you to want me too.” The words pull a hiss from the cambion who can’t deny himself the sincerity, for once, he hears in her voice and knows that her words are for no other than himself. Haarlep hums again, pleased. His finger rewards her, brushing over her clit and her hips jump as she gasps. He giggles again, and squeezes down on her hand. His finger circles around before dipping between the soaked, swollen lips. She quakes and sings out so sweetly as the incubus works to undo her. Raphael’s hand wanders like an independent entity over his clenched thigh, until it finally comes to rest on his groin, fingers ghosting at the base of his hardening length. He watches the flashes of her pleasure revealed to him through the flapping cocoon of wings curled over her. His hand, not by his own volition wraps around himself and he hisses again. His mind is plagued by the memory of how tight and wetly she’d wrapped around him and his hand feels like a pitiful substitute. Nevertheless, he finds his it working slowly, squeezing up and down his weeping cock. His sighs are lost in the chorus of the two menaces on his bed, singing so beautifully.

“My, my. Don’t you two play nicely together. I can see that any worries I may have had that this was a one sided encounter were truly misguided. It seems you both posses no higher rational thinking than the drive of your genitals. I can see why you two get along so well now. It makes perfect sense.” He’s talking more to himself than anyone else but his cock throbs at the whimper it pulls from her anyway. She comes back to her senses enough to realise that she has not yet given Haarlep any attention, too completely lost in the endless throes of pleasure he was wracking upon her. Her hand comes down and wraps around his length, pumping it with desperation, eager to make him feel nearly as good as he did her. The incubus keens and grins into the crook of her neck. He feels the spark of ecstasy from his master as his hips jerk from the seat at the ghost of her touch. His master is already worn out tonight. His hand comes to wrap around hers, halting its motion.

“Ah, ah, mouse. I think we might need to improvise. Wouldn’t want the show to finish before scheduled.” She tries to understand the implications of his words as he flips her over, pulling her ass high into the air. Her eyes are closed as she feels the fiend position behind her and she waves her rump through the air, drunkly whining at the lack of attention. Her eyes shoot open, mouth falling slack as for the third time that night, the shape of Raphael’s cock slides without warning inside of her. Her vision is filled with the man in question, teeth clenched as he takes the sight of them in, cock in trembling hand.

The incubus rocks his hips without urgency. She moans, long and low, with every drag his cock as it carves and stretches her walls around it. One hand is driving into her spine, bending her up and onto him while the other wraps around her hair, pulling her head up and exposing her fully to his master. she’s pulled up and back. He bounces her, leaning back to let her land onto his upturned hips with a wet smacks. She squeals his name, shrill and pitchy.

“Fu-fuck! Haarlep!” He groans in satisfaction, wings fluttering at the sound of his name on the lips of another. For all that he screams inside to just ruin her and drive her into the mattress like last time, he’s not prepared to meet Raphael’s fury if he embarrasses him now. He keeps the pace lazy and controlled, watching the other fiend intensely and reading his pleasure for the signs that he was getting too close. It is like wrestling a feral cat, trying to hold her still and stop her from throwing herself back onto his length without abandon.

Raphael seems to recognise his nearing end as he lets go of himself entirely, gripping the arms of his chair until his knuckles pale.

His voice is strained and gritty as he needles her one last time.

“You know I’m entirely unimpressed. You were so adamant that you wanted me but but it seems you’re able and willing to do little more than bounce on my incubus. It looks like maybe are just desperate, after all. Perhaps I was wrong, you will just throw yourself on any willing cock that asks nicely. how disappointing.”

She hates his stupid, condescending sneer and all at once, she has kicked and fought her way free of the now whining and complaining incubus and is clambering toward the edge. She throws herself from the bed, landing on the floor and crawls like a possessed person to his feet. Her face has an intensity to it that makes even him pause as she bares her teeth and howls in rage.

“Fuck you!”

She’s on top of him now, her hands in his hair, and his scalp burns as she yanks his head backwards.

“I wanted you! You never gave me anything!”

She spears him into her, feeling him shudder.

“You’re all I ever wanted! You’re the only person who makes me cum. You’re the only person I trust. I hate you.”

She’s riding him hard, throwing her weight into every thrust that brings her cunt to press on his pelvis.

“I fucked your incubus. You fucked me. Now I’m fucking you. Everyone can just get fucked!” He would usually be disgusted in her uncivilised language but holy shit, he’s never been so turned on. She is terrifying, and hysterical, and she looks like a queen as she rides.

“You’ve tried to humiliate me but guess what? It didn’t work. It didn’t work because I know you feel the same, don’t you? Am I the one that makes you cum too? You’re just as pathetic as me.“ He’s choking on a moan as she bring her face over his, staring down his eyes and breath venting across his neck.

“I did your fucking deal. You forgive me now. You ever want to get fucked like this, until you can’t feel your own cock, again? Then you cum for me right now and prove right now that you’re no better than me.” He wants to be angry, and hateful. To shove her off and smite her into the depths of hell but instead he flops backwards, body quaking and shuddering as he releases inside of her, her own orgasm milking his seed from him as she screams and collapses onto him.

They stare at each other, panting and trying to find their breath. She leans closer and for a terrifying second, he thinks she is going to kiss him. She doesn’t. She pushes herself up and brings herself to stand on shaking legs. The room is silent as she redresses. When she is done, she turns to look at Raphael expectantly. With a snap of his fingers a swirling portal forms before her. She pauses before disappearing through. She looks to the incubus, reclined back on the bed and gives him a small awkward wave.

“It was nice to meet you?” It’s asked like a question. He nods enthusiastically and waves back with a smile.

“Do come back! It’s been so long since I’ve had a friend! Ta ta now, little mouse.”

She looks to the cambion still flopped in the chair. He is back to his absent brooding. She opens her mouth to say goodbye, maybe apologise, maybe ask what the hells all of that means, but a pointed look tells her that she has done enough and now it is time to go. Happy to avoid the confrontation that awaits them at some point on the inevitable future, she simply gives him a nod and disappears from his home. Peace, at last.

“Well,” the incubus rises with a stretch and makes his way to the heated water of the pool, “wasn’t that just a delight. Do you think she’ll come back at some point? I really could use a play mate, you know.” Raphael again, ignores the ramblings of the lesser fiend and rises to leave. He needs his own bath and the sweet embrace of sleep. He most definitely did not have the energy to deal with the little demon right now. Before leaving the boundary of the room, he half turns to address the incubus.

“I was wondering, did you happen to-“

“Yep. I obviously wasn’t going to let her go without a little payment.” The voice of his little mouse echos from the steaming water with a laugh, like chiming bells.

“Good. Good job, Haarlep.”

He hears an excited intake of air at his praise and takes his leave.

“Get Korrilla to deal with the sheets before tomorrow. I don’t wish to be disturbed again tonight.”

He has forgiven his little mouse, as promised. That did not mean he was near ready to forget. There was no way she would keep herself from him now. Not when he was so eager to explore his new toy in the days to come.

Hello! I hope you liked it! It’s the longest thing I’ve posted and I’m terrified that it was a let down after the first part. Please lmk what you think, I welcome discussion and feedback. This was meant to be a softer, lighter take on Raphael, haarlep, and their mouse but I hope I still somewhat made them likeable and recognisable.

Also, poor Korrilla.

[inkdrinkerworld]

sirius with a real cottage core girl

like he gives her his leather jacket when she’s cold and it doesn’t go with her long white skirt whatsoever but she loves it

nd everyone always thinks the opposite looks are so cute

ohh this is giving me rockstar!sirius vibes!!

you’d triple checked the weather app before settling on your outfit to go watch sirius’ home gig.

a long white floral skirt and a baby tee of his band’s logo. practical, rock but still very you- especially when you found a way to work in the ribbon in your hair.

the show was amazing like it always is- sirius was born to entertain and when it was done and you met him backstage he was buzzing.

“you were amazing,” you compliment, stamping a kiss to his sweaty cheek.

he pulls you a little closer and kisses your lips,“you were in the crowd, had to be,” he flirts and you roll your eyes. “gimme ten minutes to shower and we can go for dinner?”

you nod, chatting with james and remus who are equally as sweaty as your boyfriend.

true to his word, sirius steps out ten minutes later a lot less sweaty but a lot prettier.

his hair is tied back in a low bun, he’s got less glittery eyeliner on his cheeks and more on his lower lash line and his signature black leather jacket that ties everything together.

“c’mon dolly,” his rings are cold as his fingers link with yours.

“which song was your favourite?” sirius asks and you laugh, bumping his hip with your own.

conversation is easy and fun and though the walk to your favourite dim sum place isn’t far, as the night rolls on, the air gets nippier and has goosebumps raising on your arms.

“here pretty girl,” he shakes his jacket off and drapes it over your shoulders, transferring his warmth and his clove and peach scent to you.

“i bet this looks ridiculous.” you say smiling and sirius shakes his head.

“nah, you look gorgeous,” he fishes his phone from his back pocket. “stand still a minute, doll.”

he snaps a couple photos standing up and then squats down to ‘get your angles.’ your giggles as you pose makes sirius’ heart flutter- he wants to get it on record one day to use in a song.

“that’s new wallpaper material, that is.” he kisses your temple before linking your fingers again, not letting you see the photos.

“you’re real lovesick for a rock band man,” you tease and sirius fake gags, dropping your hand with a dramatized,

“uck! girl cooties,” which makes you both cackle in the street as you reach your dinner for the night.

[riordanness]

welcome to the percy jackson shrine !!

where you can find all things perseus jackson (because he’s my everything and all that yk)

please enjoy !! and if you’re also a book!percy jackson kinda gal, maybe give me a follow and drop a little something in my ask box (i need more perseus friends fr)

percy jackson x readers.

pick up lines.

fictional.

mi amor.

my tears ricochet.

crazier.

wildest dreams.

i wish you would.

bad blood.

false god.

seven.

sparks fly.

burning it down.

texts between me you and percy jackson.

part one.

part two.

part three.

part four.

part five.

part six.

part seven.

emercy things. (emma rebekah x percy jackson)

emercy ‘wonderland’ edit.

cruel summer moodboard.

emercy playlist link.

emercy wallpaper.

emercy playlist (aesthetic version).

emercy phone theme.

emercy wallpaper (again).

swooping, sloping, cursive letters (emercy au fic)

editing myself into the seven demigods.

emercy ‘act my age’ edit.

social media au part one

random percy jackson textposts.

talking about percy jackson

percy jackson is hot

inject percy into my veins

doing the knee thing

making percy ai art

‘i like you’ okay but…

percy uses coke cans as ice packs.

his name is attractive.

make a post without his name in it challenge.

born to be percy’s girlfriend.

things percy jackson would say to me if he was real.

masterlist.

things you definitely forgot about percy jackson.

part one.

percy jackson edits.

walker scobell - obsessed

ares fight - breakin’ dishes

tv show!percy jackson - baby by me

tv show - house of memories

tv show!percy jackson - the archer

perseus jackson - don’t blame me

tv show!percy jackson - like me

tv show!percy jackson - alibi

my instagram comments: a thread (percy jackson’s version).

one.

two.

three.

four.

five.

six.

seven.

eight.

nine.

ten.

eleven.

twelve.

thirteen.

fourteen.

fifteen.

perseus jackson moodboards.

perseus jackson.

son of the sea god.

persassy.

blue food.

walker scobell.

tv show!percy jackson.

percy jackson.

beach date with percy.

percy core.

aquarium date with percy.

[strawberry-cowmilk]

Reaction to mc saying she's pregnant? Like they had NO idea. It's their child, maybe she hide it with magic or something and they generally couldn't tell, if that is okay! It's okay if not,

I just think it's a cute conecpt, like just pretend barbs doesn't look into the future,

Again it's okay is not! No pressure,

Wolf !

Hi, wolf! Of course it's okay! I hope you like it

they find out mc is pregnant after hiding it

-> brothers and side characters x mc (no luke)

mc's gender is not mentioned, but is pregnant, not proof read (somebody lmk if the tag is wrong)

content warnings: pregnancy, mild angst

-----

Lucifer

he's a little offended (??) hurt (??) that you hid it from him, were you afraid of his reaction or was he scary?

regardless, lucifer loves both you and the child to death from the moment he finds out they exist

he's going to take great care of you (though he might come off as a little overprotective)

if you are standing up for a minute too long he will let you sit down

Mammon

oh no, you were play fighting just yesterday, did he accidentally hurt you or the baby?

when those worries ebb away, mammon is so happy he's telling everyone at rad about it

yes he's sad you hid it for a long time but the happiness is way stronger than the hurt

'mc I'm gonna go to the mall to get baby's first gold bar' 'mammon the baby isn't even born yet-'

Leviathan

of course you hid it for a long time, imagine you're the child and you find out your dad is a gross otaku

you're gonna have to calm him down

it takes levi a while to warm up to the idea, but when he does he's really excited for his baby

he's going to want to read tsl to your stomach as a bedtime story (if the baby is a boy he wants to name him henry too)

Satan

satan is kind of in denial, if you were pregnant he would have known right? why didn't you say something?

he's never thought about being a father, he needs a moment to let it sink and do research on babies

but he warms up to the idea eventually, and he'll be the softest you've ever seen

satan got little children's books and those cute music boxes for when the baby comes

Asmodeus

out of everyone, asmo would me the most upset you tried to hide it

but he loves you and the baby so he forgives you soon

asmo might not know how to be a father at first, but he's willing to learn and raise the baby with you

plus he's going to want one of those maternity photoshoots, but if you don't it's okay

Beelzebub

yes he's not happy you kept it from him but baby :))

beel would do anything to make you and them happy

he's really worried you're going to get hurt though, if you're cooking together beel does not let you pick up a spatula or get close to the stove

also beel loves to hug your stomach, it's basically what he does every night now

Belphegor

he's not happy about it at first because he honestly did not want a child

but seeing you pregnant, realising you'd make a great parent, it changed his mind

belphie gets the best pillows and blankets so you can be comfortable while sleeping

if the baby is keeping you awake belphie will try to calm them down

Diavolo

he understands why you hid it from him, imagine getting pregnant with the demon prince's child- oh no are you scared?

it doesn't matter whether you are actually scared or not, diavolo will take his time to show you all is well, he's really happy to welcome his child

he took a picture of you and your cute baby bump, made it his ddd wallpaper and stares at it when he doesn't want to work

Barbatos

it took him by surprise, but barbatos can adapt quickly

he's really happy to be having a baby with you, he's ready to give you anything you need to make the pregnancy easier

do you want tea, a massage or something else? barbatos has got you

he can't wait to meet his baby, he doesn't want to use his powers and spoil it for himself

Simeon

...so that's why you could eat solomon's soup last week without getting sick

he forgives you for hiding it, surely you had a good reason

simeon loves the baby so much he sings lullabies he used to sing to luke for them already, this man's face physically softens every time he sees the baby bump

but really, maybe you should stay away from food that randomly appears in the fridge that simeon didn't make

Solomon

he's a little upset but that's okay, in all his years he's never felt this happy

he can't wait to hold his little baby for the first time

being a human too, solomon knows plenty of stuff about human pregnancy so that's great

'simeon why are you stopping me I'm just going to offer mc a sandwich I made'

[star1ight0]

Dabi x Reader/Sibling PLATONIC.

REQUEST ARE OPEN

Quirk: Opposite of Dabi/Toya you had an ice quirk stronger than your mothers and the rest of your siblings, but your body had little to no resistance. It was built for extensive heat, causing you to get frostbite damaging your skin. 

You are the second oldest being born not long after your big brother Toya and he was your best friend.

Endevor quickly realized you were a “mistake” leaving you to a similar fate to your brother. You'd found peace with your body's scars by learning how to manage your power on your own and how to heal them properly.

You had run away awhile ago finding yourself resentful of your father and in turn hateful of the heroes who allowed you to be discarded and abused by the now number 1 hero. You had stumbled across the LOV a while ago and had been a help given your healing talent and had a mass interest in taking down endeavor. 

You sat at the bar with Kurogiri asking him to make you a drink before Dabi sat next to you taking it away. “You definitely look too young to be drinking kid” He said, pulling it further away from your reach. “Fuck off scar face” You spat reaching over him taking back your drink, his eyes looked so familiar, you couldnt help but stair “Got a problem, if so speak now or forever hold you peace” He said pushing you away and placing your drink Infront of you “If its about the drink i was just fucking with you, no need to get hostile” he said putting his hand above his head.

"No, you just look familiar. Not your face but your eyes, it's stupid.” You said taking your drink and walking away. “I'm going on a walk, tell crusty i'll be back” you said b-linging it for the door shaking.

“Nah he’ll be fine not knowing, I'll go with you kid” You finch at the sudden familiarity in his voice. “Don't fucking call me kid. I'm not your fucking kid.” You said snapping at him grabbing his wrist coving it in a thin layer of ice. He pulls away, raising his hand in a surrendering motion following you out the door.

You walked around for a while feeling the cold of the air around you, the weather app said it was going to freeze and snow but you’d honestly forgot it was starting to get cold, too cold. You started shaking and wrapped your arms around yourself refusing to go back to base yet. “Are you shaking because you're cold or because you think I'm gonna kill you?"

He said, crossing his arms. “The first one” you said while looking around for a store to buy a jacket. "Bit strange for someone with an ice quirk but okay."

You pulled out your phone. The lock screen was a photo of you and Toya side by side holding hands smiling at the camera. It was probably the only photo you had of the two of you together not covered in scars.

“Nice wallpaper for a villain” He said, snatching your phone to get a better look. You froze his feet in place reaching for the phone. “Give it back. I’m not fucking playing games with you Dabi” you said, he was taller than you but that didn't stop you from trying to jump to get the phone back. “Where the fuck did you get this photo.” he spat using his fire to break away the ice and grab your face. “It me and you brother fuck is it to you?” he put you down shoving your phone in your hands “You’ve go to be fucking shitting me ” You were about to yell at him again before he stopped you “All this time you must have thought i was dead huh?” you look at him confused “what..? I'm so confused” He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket, it was the same photo but more crumbed and worn. You looked at him then at the subtle white roots of his hair. “Shit” you said, feeling the wave or realization hit you feeling tears form in your eyes “Who would've thought we both end up villains?” He said before seeing the tears falling from your face. “Hey, let's take down that shit stain of a hero together okay?” He took his jacket off, placing it on your shoulders.

[docplaugedraws]

The Man without fear….

(Yes the sky is a stock image. I ain’t drawing allat)

[xxavengingangelxx]

Graves Defragged 1/?

As promised, here is the first part of deconstructing Graves. This part touches on the first half of the psychopath traits I want to discuss. Below is my take! I am NOT licensed to make these decisions. This is just for fun. It also touches on why I write Graves like a heartless mf'er in my longer fics. Because Graves is a heartless motherfucker.

Not proofread. I'm posting this before going to bed cause it's the only time I got between working 60+ hours a week, house chores, keeping hubby fed, etc.

To touch on my sociopath vs. psychopath post earlier, there are some in the field who argue that a sociopath is made and a psychopath is born. We don’t have enough information on Graves’s background to see whether or not he’s shown the same callous disregard for human life, disregard for rules, and narcissism earlier on. But he certainly shows those traits now.

And we do have this:

Graves: "That uniform was a limitation. I shed that skin..." Soap: "Like a fuckin' snake-" Graves: "Like a fucking soldier, son." — Soap confronts Graves about his past.

Let’s assume Graves was born a psychopath. It’s certainly possible. And if Adler is his father, then he’s got the genes for killing, anyway. Yes there are theories that say there are genes for criminality but I can post more on that later if y’all are interested.

How many traits of a psychopath does he actually have? Based on the behavior, we’ve seen, quite a bit!

Robert Hare, a Canadian psychologist, created the Hare Psychopathy Checklist (known today as the Hare Psychopathy Checklist Revised). Let’s go through the items with our crush man Graves in mind. Each of these items is rated a 0 if it does not apply, a 1 if it kind of applies, and a 2 if it definitely applies. They are added up at the end. Max score is a 40.

Item 1: Glibness and superficial charm = 2

You’re kidding me, right? Graves is the man of charm and glib. His good fuckin’ looks certainly help him out.

Image credit: @Vault21 on Tumblr

Remember Dark Water? Yeah…they trusted each other like brothers. Soap even hugged Graves! Graves had them  (and us) fooled because not much later he betrayed them like they were enemies.

Item 2: Grandiose sense of self-worth = 1

Graves is narcissistic. We can all agree on that, right? He thought he was too good for the Marines, that the Marines were not good enough for such a special person like himself. And I could be wrong here, but he is massively successful, likely a billionaire so doesn’t he get to be a little narcissistic?

Item 3: Need for stimulation/proneness to boredom = 2

Graves was so bored in the Marines, one of the toughest branches of the military, that he saw his uniform as a limitation and sought out to make his own company of mercenaries who don’t really answer to anyone. Also, how many CEOs do you see in the field like Graves is? Close to none. He lives for getting shot at and chased. He has a scar on his face to prove it!

Item 4: Pathological lying = 2

Is this even a question? Graves lied so well to 141 that they trusted him and saw him as a brother in arms. Also, remember the scene from Congress?

Image credit: BabyZone on YouTube.

Which leads me to…

Item 5: Conning/manipulative = 2

Phillip Graves is a conman. If you look up conman in the dictionary there’d be a picture of Graves or there should…it’d make the dictionary less boring. According to Google’s dictionary, the definition of conman is, “a man who cheats or tricks someone by gaining their trust and persuading them to believe something that is not true.” I can think of a few examples. Again, Dark Water

Image credit: Wallpaper Cave

Also, the Congress scene where he lies (about WAR CRIMES) like he’s talking about the weather.

And when he pulled the rug out from under 141 in Las Almas.

Which in turn takes us to…

Item 6: Lack of remorse/guilt = 2

Graves betrayed 141, the men he had fought next to, defended, befriended all while gaining their trust.

All while smiling about it!

Image credit: halgalvv on TikTok

Look!

Image credit: Call of Duty Wiki

Which also reminds me of the war crimes Graves committed in Las Almas. Some argue that Graves cleaned house by killing off people who were supporting the cartels but based on what I’ve been told there were children in this town as well.

This also brings me to the topic of Graves’s Shadows. These men are okay with war crimes. Shadows are okay with killing people just because Graves said to. In one (or more?) of my fics I portray Shadows as I see them: callous and even sadistic with how they agree to torture a prisoner of war (POW), going so far as using rape as a weapon if Graves gives the word.

Are there some Shadows who can’t engage in this kind of behavior? Perhaps. So Graves knows which men to pick to carry out war crimes. At least that’s how I see it.

Psychopaths have physical differences in the make up of their brain that make them UNABLE to feel guilty, remorse, or fear. So when I hear people asking how serial killers and other criminals deal with their guilt, I say they do not because it doesn't exist to them. They have no idea what guilt is.

Remember: It’s not that psychopaths choose not to feel/ignore guilt. It’s that their brain is completely INCAPABLE of this emotion.

You might be asking why/how: Psychopaths think the same thing about you…how can you feel guilt? Why would you want to?

Item 7: Shallow affect = 1

Only because we are unable to see how Graves functions emotionally away from the battlefield. My forensic psychology professor said that psychopaths have 2 emotions: rage and joy. Have you seen Graves portray anything else, really? In another fic, Graves supposedly says he loves OC. Like he even knows what that means. He doesn’t. He loves controlling her and abusing her, yes.

If Graves had a kid like he does in the same fic, he doesn’t feel much affection towards him. He just likely sees him as an extension of his partner. A future soldier, someone Graves can start training from young. Something he can use to control and keep his partner in line.  That child, from the moment he was born is seen as an asset by Graves. Plus, there are some good chances that kiddo might have inherited Graves’s genes that pass on his psychopathy. And even if that child does not, there’s a good chance he could develop as a sociopath because he’s not likely to see much more other than Graves continuing to abuse and control his partner and battlefield conditions.

Item 8: Callousness/lack of empathy = 2

This relates to a lack of remorse. You might ask how can Graves not feel empathy for how 141 must feel after he betrayed them? Because, like the shallow emotions and lack of remorse, Graves’s brain cannot do it. He doesn’t have the neurons for it. He doesn’t have the brain structure for it. It’s not that Graves chooses not to feel or ignore empathy. He CANNOT. It’s almost like asking someone with very low math ability to do a PhD in physics. It’s not that they’re lazy. They do not have the aptitude for it.

Graves does not have the aptitude for remorse or empathy because he doesn’t have the brain structure that makes that happen.

He think's it's funny.

Image credit: Einstein Ibraheem on YouTube

Item 9: Parasitic lifestyle = 0

Finally, one that does NOT apply to Graves. This man refuses to depend on anyone. He’s a fucking billionare that can get whatever the hell he wants whenever he wants it.

Item 10: Poor behavioral controls = 0

Hear me out! Graves is not impulsive. Lots of psychopaths are due to limitations in a part of the brain called the prefrontal cortex as well as other parts to include the limbic system. Graves is not limited in that manner. He plans, he’s meticulous, he’s detailed, and he gets away with a lot of shit because of it. Graves is not impulsive. Get him mad and he might smack the shit out of you (more than once if you make him mad enough) but when it comes to important decisions, he takes his painstaking time.

So fear we are up to the score of 14! He has scored positive on 14/20 possible points.

More to come!

[lupinmoonlight]

Christmas at 12 Grimmauld Place

Masterlist AO3

Summary - Christmas at home was never great so this year, your friend Harry invites you to spend Christmas at his godfather's house. Upon arriving, you are surprised to see that Professor Lupin is also there. You two had always been closer than you should during his time at Hogwarts, but he had left unexpectedly. Sirius, always so perceptive, catches on everything and can't help but cause a little mischief (1,012 words).

Warnings - Professor/student relationship, fluff, HALLMARK FLUFF, not proof-read, my grammar.

Notes - Merry Christmas everyone! and if you don't celebrate, I wish you a happy new year full of health and happiness! I wanted to write this quick little fluff piece before celebrating with my family.

"Sirius!" Harry exclaimed, rushing forward to embrace his godfather. Sirius Black, with his usual roguish grin, wrapped Harry in a warm hug.

You lingered a step behind, your eyes scanning the place. The man was a reflection of the house- a strange blend of grim, charm, and warmth. Your gaze, however, drifted to a quieter figure standing behind Sirius- Remus Lupin. Your heart skipped a beat. He was watching the scene with a warm, fatherly smile, but his eyes flicked to yours, and in that short moment, a storm of unspoken words passed between you.

You were always close to him. Your connection, born in the classroom, had quickly grown into something deeper, something neither of you had dared to acknowledge. And then he had vanished. You didn't know where, you didn't know why. And it left you feeling empty.

Seeing him now, after more than a year, brought you back to that tingly feeling you had every time you saw him in the corridors, every time you heard his voice, every evening you spent in his office after curfew. He had aged gracefully, and despite the additional scars marring his face, the gentleness in his eyes was still there.

As Sirius disentangled himself from Harry, his eyes caught your nervous stance. "And who do we have here?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of mischief.

"Y/N," you replied, stepping forward.

Remus's eyes never left you. "Y/N, I didn't expect to see you here," he said, his voice warm and tinged with something he dared not define.

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks. "Professor Lupin, it's…it's good to see you again."

Remus's smile deepened, a soft chuckle escaping him. "Remus, please. I haven't been your professor for quite some time."

You hesitated, then tried "Remus." His name felt unfamiliar yet intimate on your lips, and you saw his smile widen, his eyes lighting up in a way that made you want to morph yourself into the flowers of the wallpaper surrounding you.

Sirius, who had been observing the exchange with an amused twinkle in his eye, leaned towards Remus and whispered just loud enough for him to hear, "Looks like someone's caught your eye, Professor Lupin."

"Not now, Sirius," Remus muttered, a hint of embarrassment in his tone as she shot Sirius a half-hearted glare.

The room seemed to shrink around you, the festive noise from the nearby dining room fading into a distant hum. Sirius, always perceptive, nudged Harry with a knowing look. "Harry, why don't we leave these two to catch up? I believe there are a few others eagerly waiting for you in the dining room," he said as he shot you a playful wink before ushering your friend out of the room, leaving you alone with Remus.

The air was suddenly thick with a mix of awkwardness and unspoken feelings. Remus, who seemed to be battling with a mess of emotions, looked at you. You appeared a bit more grown yet, you retained that endearing quality that had always drawn him in. A pang of regret and shame washed over him, regret for having left without a proper goodbye, and shame for the circumstances that had forced him away so abruptly.

"Let me help you with that," he offered gently, stepping closer and reaching for your cloak. His fingers brushed against yours as he took the garment, sending a subtle current through you both. He cleared his throat, trying to appear nonchalant, and hung your cloak carefully.

"Let go somewhere quieter," he then suggested, leading the way to a small study.

"Y/N, I…I must apologize for how I left Hogwarts. I never got the chance to say goodbye. Circumstances were…complicated."

Your eyes met his, filled with confusion and longing. "I…I've thought a lot about you since then," you confessed.

He looked at you, his expression now a mix of surprise and a deep, unspoken affection "You have?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes," you admitted, "I always wondered why you left so suddenly."

Remus hesitated, his gaze lingering on your face, subtly moving to your lips. "I had to leave because of reasons beyond my control, but not a day went by when I didn't think of…of you. But I was your teacher, and you were my student. It wouldn't have been right for me to say anything."

"I understand," you replied thoughtfully. "But things are different now, aren't they?"

"Yes, they are," Remus said softly, a faint smile touching his lips. "Very different."

Suddenly, a mistletoe appeared above you both, its presence announced by a gentle cascade of soft snowflakes. Your eyes lifted first, and Remus followed your gaze upwards, and then back to you, his face a picture of surprise and confusion.

"Well, aren't you going to kiss me, Professor?" you teased.

Remus, momentarily frozen, looked at you intensely. The lines between past and present, teacher and student, seemed to blur and vanish into insignificance. He smiled and leaned in slowly, his heart pounding.

"DINNER'S READY!! COME ALONG NOW!!" a motherly voice shouted just before his lips could reach yours. Startled, Remus stopped in his tracks at the interruption, making you giggle at the timing. Standing on your tiptoes to bridge the height gap, you gently kissed his cheek, whispering, "Merry Christmas, Remus."

With a final giggle, you scampered off towards the dining room, leaving Remus standing there, his cheek still tingling from your touch. A moment later, Sirius appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a teasing look in his eyes.

Remus, finally catching on, glanced up at the mistletoe and then back at Sirius, realization hitting him. "Sirius, this isn't-"

But before he could finish, Sirius laughed, "Oh, relax, Moony! No harm in a little festive cheer. And who knows, maybe you'll get another chance later."

As he walked out of the study, Remus glanced back at the spot where he and you had stood. The mistletoe still hung there, a symbol of what might have been- and what might still be.

[rainforestakiie]

Vacation Away Part 02

hello. this is the second part for @inubaki! of their request!

'Adam and Lucifer get the same idea to take a break on earth. Adam in heaven and Lucifer in hell, both take on human form and embark to earth only to stumble in to one another. Whether or not Lucifer catches onto who Adam’s first is up to you while Adam remains clueless or in denial. They spend the weekend together and basically just begin falling in love without labels or restraint. But they are on a time limit.'

i really hope you like it inubaki! i am working super hard on it! i think there might acturally be one more part or so! i hope anyway!

please let me know if you like it or not!

Vacation Away (Adam/Lucifer goes on vacation on Earth) = Part 01. Part 02.

At the break of dawn, Lucifer sensed it. He had desperately hoped Charlie was jesting, but the truth was undeniable. Sleep had eluded him after she departed, but then again, Lucifer rarely succumbed to slumber. His mind was a relentless whirlwind, always racing, refusing to be stilled. Rather than cocooning himself in his luxurious quilts and pillows, he had perched atop his four-poster bed, awaiting the inevitable.

Despite his reluctance, a flicker of excitement fluttered within him. He couldn't suppress the surge of wonder that welled up. As the first light of dawn broke, he felt it.

His skin tingled. His fingers twitched, and a long-forgotten hum resonated from the nape of his neck, creeping up to his ears, blurring his vision. Lucifer inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, and straightened, feeling his body lift from the bed. Smoky red magic coiled around him, his personal sigil glowing beneath his boot-clad hooves.

The air around him crackled and snapped like an egg's brittle shell. A haunting groan pierced his ears, and the atmosphere within the mansion shifted dramatically. Darkness swirled from all directions, and the sensation of being crushed, chewed, and then expelled clawed at him.

Lucifer's arms arched, his horns protruding from his head, while six majestic wings unfurled from his sides. His long, arrow-tipped tail lashed about behind him. A deep rumble emanated from his throat, and his fiery snake-like eyes flickered open. He was no longer in his dank, cold chamber within the desolate mansion.

He found himself in a quaint room adorned with sunflower wallpaper. The warm glow of the lamps highlighted the white ceiling, and the reddish-brown oak floors contrasted with a mustard yellow carpet. It was charming, yet utterly incongruous with the ritual altar beneath him. Six lit candles surrounded a bright-red painted pentagram directly below his hooves.

Lucifer's eyebrows raised as he surveyed his surroundings. Family photos adorned the walls, and flowers, numerous flowers in vases, filled the space. Bookshelves lined the room, exuding the essence of a cosy family home.

His gaze settled on the lone human before him. She was much older than he had anticipated, wrinkled and raisin-like. Small and hunched, she barely stood, relying on a sturdy walking stick for support.

Lucifer regarded her thoughtfully. Part of him wanted to believe the human seemed too...sweet to be entangled in demonic magic. Clad in a flowery oversized cardigan, long skirt, and a handkerchief, she appeared harmless. But Lucifer knew better than to judge a book by its cover. Humans were rarely as innocent as they seemed; they were corrupt, sick, and twisted. The old lady might look benign, but she wasn't. He could already smell the malevolence.

His stomach churned with revulsion. He harboured a deep-seated disdain for humanity. He detested scrutinising the fruits born of his actions too closely...

At first, they simply stared at one another. The little old woman, wrinkled and ancient, didn't utter a single word as she continued to gaze up at him. Lucifer hovered above her, his six wings awkwardly swaying up and down.

Lucifer waited and waited, and when it seemed she wasn't about to speak, he parted his lips. Only to find himself at a loss for words. How was he supposed to speak to humans again? It had been so long since he was summoned... he'd forgotten the intricacies of it.

There was supposed to be a contract between them, wasn't there? A give-and-take system. Retrieve and send. What had Charlie said again? She was doing this as a 'favor' to Bami. She was already in a contract with the radio demon and probably gained freedom by doing this. Which was insane to Lucifer, he couldn't see that grinning fool losing any soul, especially to help him, the King of Hell.

"I thought you'd be taller," the woman suddenly said.

Lucifer spluttered in surprise. Of all the things he suspected a human would say upon meeting the devil himself, that was the last thing he expected.

"Or less..." the little old lady began thoughtfully, "feminine."

Finally, Lucifer grunted. He curled his wings in, his horns dissolving back into his head, and landed on his feet before the woman. His lips twitched as he found himself practically looming over her. Ha! Finally! Someone shorter than him!

"That's rude," he grumbled dryly. "You should really watch your tone. I am the King of Hell, the—"

"The Devil, fallen angel, yes I know," she hummed, beginning to wobble around him. The old lady started blowing out the candles and gathering them up.

Lucifer watched her, feeling rather insulted. He had never been...so, what's the word? Disregarded? Rejected? Disappointed? Lucifer frowned deeply. The last time he was summoned, the silly humans had tripped over themselves trying to please him, offering anything they could. This little old lady was practically ignoring him as she cleaned up the summoning ritual altar. It left Lucifer standing awkwardly behind her, fidgeting with his claws and hooves. He felt rather put out, like a naughty child who had just been scolded.

How mortifying.

"If you are going to stand there like that, you can help me clean up the blood," the woman said, gesturing towards the mop beside him. "I had to sacrifice my finest goat for you. It was such a hassle."

Lucifer opened and then shut his mouth. He wanted to unleash his power, make the old raisin woman cower before him, but he didn't. His eyes flickered to the green mop and then back to the blood staining the wooden panels. It did look messy... humans generally do go through a lot to summon him.

"I could just snap my fingers and have it cleaned," he said, almost sulkily.

The woman scoffed. "Hard labour is good for the mind."

Once again, the devil wanted to snap in return. He had never been so disrespected by a living human before. The sinners, while displeased with him and how he had treated his role, were still fearful of him. But Lucifer found himself obeying anyway! Why he was doing what she wanted was beyond him, but he decided it was because he had nothing better to do.

His claws wrapped around the pole of the mop, and awkwardly, he began to wipe up the blood. He was supposed to be here for a break, for a vacation, not hard labour work. 

"What?" Lucifer exclaimed, noticing the woman watching him with a snort. "What, what am I doing wrong?"

The old, hunched woman made a sound from the back of her throat. "You’ve never done a day of work in your life, have you? I can tell."

Lucifer's eyes widened as he looked at his hands, then the mop, and back at the woman. His face contorted with frustration, confusion, and a hint of reflection. But just as his temper was about to boil over, he reined it in, settling for a scowl instead.

"My name is Dorothy," the old woman said once the room was cleaned up. "This is my inn, and you are a guest here. I won’t tolerate any shenanigans."

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. "Do you know who I am? Seriously?"

"Of course I do. I’m not that naïve," she replied with a laugh. "Do you think I should be afraid of you? I’m nearing the end of my life. I’m probably going to Hell anyway, so what’s the worst that could happen?"

"I am the King of Hell," Lucifer said, staring down at the woman. "And since you’re in a contract with Bambi, you’re heading straight to my domain. I could make your afterlife ten times worse."

Dorothy shrugged. "You won’t be able to."

"What?" Lucifer asked, bewildered.

"My end of the bargain to summon you to Earth," she explained nonchalantly. "The demon holding my soul has agreed to take me once I become a ‘Sinner.’ I’m tired of life. I’ve lived long enough, and when it ends, I want that to be the end."

Lucifer stared in disbelief. So that was it? Alastor had agreed to end her life when she was reanimated as a Sinner? It was strange.

"Anyway, if you’re going to stay up here for a week, we need to draw up a contract," Dorothy said with an air of familiarity. It was a bit bewildering how she spoke, as if she had negotiated thousands of contracts before, which she probably had. "Contracts are about give and take. Your side of the deal will be to stay here."

Lucifer snorted and crossed his arms tightly over his chest. His eyes narrowed in annoyance. "I invented contracts. I know how they work. You don’t need to explain my own creation to me."

"Well, I wasn’t sure you did," Dorothy replied with a shrug. "You had this clueless expression on your face. Can’t blame a girl for assuming."

"You have some nerve to keep insulting me," Lucifer muttered darkly.

Dorothy laughed. "Nerve? My, you must be half blind too. I’m a woman, darling. I don’t have balls."

"I know that!" Lucifer snapped, his face flushing. "I just meant—never mind! Let’s get this over with. Clearly, you know better than I do!"

"Clearly I do," Dorothy said with a smirk. "My side of the contract is allowing you to stay on Earth for the week. Your side is simple. You will work for me at my florist. Only in the mornings, of course. I understand this is supposed to be a... vacation for the devil himself."

She laughed at the absurdity of it. "The devil himself needing a vacation—who would have thought?"

"Not that it’s any of your business, but I have my own problems to deal with," he hissed, his posture bristling like a cornered animal.

"Relax," Dorothy waved a dismissive hand. "We all have our secrets. Some are best kept buried, right?"

Lucifer puffed his cheeks out in frustration. "So, a florist?"

"That’s right," Dorothy confirmed. "I run a family-owned florist. My daughter usually helps out, but she’s a bit busy this week, so I need an extra pair of hands. I’m sure it won’t be too difficult for you, your Majesty," she said slyly, extending her wrinkled hand. "Do we have a deal?"

With a resigned sigh, Lucifer rolled his eyes and extended his clawed hand. He grasped hers, shaking it as golden light shimmered around their hands. Golden chains looped around their wrists, locking the contract into place until the end of the week, when Lucifer would return to Hell.

He supposed anything was better than Hell.

"Excellent!" Dorothy chimed brightly. "Let me show you to your room."

At least he had his own room…

��I would suggest altering your appearance. You definitely don’t look natural. Others will notice.” 

The moment he was left alone in the room that would be his for the week, Lucifer dropped onto the edge of the bed. His head fell into his claws, and his top hat tumbled onto the bed next to him. He couldn't believe what he was doing. A vacation? A break? What was Charlie even thinking?

This was a bad idea. A terrible idea. Heaven was more aggressive than ever before. Michael was involved now, when he hadn't been in the past. God knows what his younger brother would do. Everything was wrong, everything was upside down, and Charlie was left to deal with it all. It was just one week, but a lot could happen in that one week.

Lucifer rubbed his face, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of his cheeks and eyes. He was tired, but he knew his brain would never allow him to settle enough to slumber. Lucifer tilted his head up, staring at the full-length mirror across from him. He shook off the alluring thoughts of having a mirror in such a position and stood up.

He stuck out on Earth. He looked too different from humans, didn't he? Dorothy was correct about that at least.

Inching towards the mirror, Lucifer leaned in close. His claws plucked at his shiny blonde hair, lightly twirling it around his claw. His face was cherry-shaped with bright red circles imprinted upon them, sharp teeth, and fiery eyes. Yeah. He definitely would stick out. He had no nose or ears. Too unhuman-like.

Closing his eyes, Lucifer snapped his fingers and felt his magic enclose around him. After a few seconds of his magic washing over his body, altering his form, Lucifer opened his eyes again to look upon himself.

He definitely looked different... more human-like.

His face was still cherry-shaped, with more human-like rosy cheeks and large sea-blue eyes. His hair was a strawberry blonde and appeared much more unkempt than the natural neat style he kept it in. Lucifer tilted his head, seeing a small curve of his fake nose and the ears poking out of the strawberry blonde curls. But most of all, his hands and feet were different. He had normal hands again, albeit fake, just a glamour hiding the monstrous claws he had. Lucifer's eyes trailed down to his boots, and with another snap of his fingers, his standard circus clothes vanished into a simple t-shirt and jeans. More human-like, he supposed, with sneakers instead of boots.

Lucifer kicked the sneakers off, raised a foot to touch it. It was a human foot. His magic had disguised his hoof into a foot.

He sighed deeply, the weight of his disguise pressing down on him. He looked back at the mirror, examining every detail of his new form. He was just a stranger now, a temporary guest in a quaint little inn. The King of Hell, reduced to this.

For a moment, he allowed himself to wonder what this week might bring. Perhaps it was a chance to escape, to breathe, to be something other than the ruler of damnation. He shook his head, dismissing the thought as quickly as it came.

With another deep breath, Lucifer turned away from the mirror. He had a role to play, and for now, he would play it. He stepped out of the room, ready to face whatever this strange human world had in store for him.

“I’ll call my Samuel. I doubt humans would take it well if I call myself Lucifer…”

~#~

“Samuel, this is Graham. You’ll be working together in the mornings.”

Lucifer felt stiff all morning, his weariness heavier than ever. He hadn’t slept as he expected and dragged himself to the florist. He knew he was basically running late, but who cared? What would Dorothy do? He snorted at the thought as he shuffled out of the inn. The florist wasn’t hard to find; it was directly across from the inn.

Where was he? The air was sweet, reminiscent of Eden.

Flowers were everywhere.

Soon enough, Lucifer found himself inside the florist, standing in the doorway to the workshop. He squinted, staring at Dorothy and the young man beside her. His eyebrows knitted together as he observed the man, watching him squirm under his gaze. It sent a thrill through Lucifer, something he hadn’t expected and had almost forgotten how it felt.

His lips curled into a wide smile as he stepped toward the man. Lucifer’s eyes roved up and down the man’s body, taking in his rich red hair, caramel amber eyes, and pale skin. The freckles across his face were delightful, and Lucifer had the urge to reach up and count them.

What had Dorothy said his name was again?

Ah. Graham.

Graham? Lucifer’s smile widened, becoming somewhat predatory as he eyed the man. He was lovely. He appeared rather delicious. Lucifer had the urge to strip him, just to see if he had freckles in other places.

Lucifer slid a delicate pale hand out. “It’s lovely to meet you, Graham. I hope we can get along.”

Graham. The name sounded odd on his tongue. Lucifer felt a shiver run up his spine. Graham? Graham. It wasn’t right. It was a fake name. His mind swirled as he stared into the man’s amber eyes.

Oh!

This wasn’t Graham.

Cute disguise, he almost said but swallowed it back down. Immediately he felt lighter, more relieved as he gazed upon the form of Adam. It was one-hundred percent Adam. There was no denying it. Lucifer recognized the soft curl of the lips pinched crookedly and the way his eyebrows twitched, all signs Lucifer had only ever seen in Adam.

Adam stared at the hand and quickly wrapped his own around Lucifer’s. If Lucifer had been unsure before, he was definitely sure now. A spark of electricity coursed through their skin at the contact. Lucifer’s eyes were unmoving as he stared into Adam’s, checking to see if he noticed the spark.

It was disappointing to see not even a wince.

“Nice to meet you too,” Adam mumbled quietly. “Um… Samuel.”

Lucifer’s lips formed a smirk. “I’m sure we’ll be spending a lot of time together.”

Lucifer's presence in the cosy, floral-scented workshop was both unsettling and exhilarating. The morning light filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow on the vibrant blooms and adding an almost ethereal quality to the scene. Despite the brightness, an undercurrent of tension thrummed in the air.

Dorothy, seemingly oblivious to the charged atmosphere, busied herself with arranging flowers, her movements precise and practised. She glanced up occasionally, her eyes sharp and knowing, but she said nothing. The old woman’s silence spoke volumes, leaving Lucifer to navigate this strange encounter on his own.

Adam shifted nervously under Lucifer’s intense gaze. The young man’s discomfort was obvious, yet there was a familiarity in his eyes that made Lucifer’s heart race. A sick satisfaction churned inside him upon seeing he could still arise the same reaction after so many years. He knew this soul, this presence. It was like a melody long forgotten, now playing softly in the background of his mind.

Lucifer's thoughts raced as he studied Adam. His disguise was nearly perfect, but Lucifer saw through it. The subtle nuances in his expressions, the way he held himself—it all screamed Adam.

The initial tension between them began to ease, replaced by a simmering curiosity. What was Adam doing here, in this quaint little florist shop, masquerading as someone else? And why had Dorothy involved him in this charade?

Lucifer’s mind was a whirlwind of questions, but he kept his composure. He couldn’t afford to reveal his hand too soon. Instead, he decided to play along, to see where this unexpected encounter would lead.

“Well, Graham,” Lucifer said, savouring the name on his tongue, “It looks like we’ll be working together. I hope you’re ready for an interesting week.”

Adam nodded, his eyes flickering with something that might have been recognition. “Yeah, I guess so. Just… don’t mess up the arrangements, okay?”

Lucifer chuckled, a low, melodious sound that seemed to fill the room. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a good eye for detail.”

As they began their tasks, Lucifer couldn’t help but steal glances at Adam, marvelling at the strange twist of fate that had brought them together. The week ahead promised to be anything but ordinary, and for the first time in a long while, Lucifer felt a spark of genuine anticipation.

The King of Hell, working in a florist shop, reconnecting with an old acquaintance under the guise of a simple human. The irony was delicious, and Lucifer intended to savour every moment of it.

For the first time in almost a century, Lucifer felt a bit better. 

~#~

Adam struggled to find the words to describe the feeling. He was undeniably uncomfortable. Working with Samuel was an overwhelming experience. The short, blonde man seemed to have his eyes glued to him, always watching, always staring. Even when they were supposed to be working together to create the bouquet, Samuel's intense gaze never wavered. Adam couldn't concentrate properly, and it was only his first shift volunteering. He didn't want to quit just because this guy was creeping him out, but Adam really wished Samuel would stop staring at him like that.

Suddenly, a gentle chime emanated from the small machine beside them, and Adam exhaled with relief as Samuel's intense blue eyes finally shifted to the device. A delicate, pale-pink piece of paper emerged, and Samuel plucked it with careful precision.

"Sunshine Happiness?" Samuel read aloud, his brows furrowing in perplexity. "An order for a Sunshine Happiness bouquet?"

"Oh, that's straightforward," Adam replied, his cheeks flushing crimson as Samuel's gaze returned to him. Adam took a deep breath, wiping his gloved hands on his apron and moving around the shorter blonde. "We need yellow tulips, orange gerbera daisies, and white lilies."

Like a loyal companion, Samuel followed closely. A shiver danced down Adam's spine as the strawberry-blonde man trailed behind him to the main florist area, bursting with a kaleidoscope of flowers. Adam couldn't help but find them breathtaking.

"What's wrong with your foot?" Samuel asked softly, his eyes lowered as he noticed Adam lightly dragging his left foot. "Did you hurt it?"

Surveying the blooms, Adam crouched by the bucket of yellow tulips. He lifted his right hand to pick one, but it slipped from his fingers. Adam grimaced and used his left hand instead.

"I had an accident," he said tersely. "It's personal."

"Oh." Samuel blinked slowly, his gaze now fixed on Adam's right hand. "What happened?"

Holding the tulip, Adam twirled it between his fingers and inhaled its sweet fragrance. Yes, these were the right ones. Carefully, he gathered more, cradling them in his left hand.

"I said it's personal," Adam grumbled. "Help me out. I can't use my right hand properly, so you'll need to carry the rest."

Samuel's face clouded with concern as he moved closer to Adam, bypassing the flower buckets. "What happened to your right hand?"

"Hold these," Adam instructed, thrusting the tulips into Samuel's arms. "Stop being nosy. We barely know each other."

Samuel seemed poised to protest, but Adam's raised eyebrow silenced him. With a shrug, Adam stepped around him and zeroed in on the bucket of orange gerbera daisies, moving to gather them too.

"Now we just need white lilies," he said, trying to steer the conversation away. "Each flower has a meaning. That's why it's called Sunshine Happiness. Yellow tulips signify cheerfulness and sunshine. Orange gerbera daisies represent happiness and friendship. White lilies symbolise purity and commitment."

Samuel continued to shadow Adam around the florist. "Is it nerve damage? How did it happen? Have you had it long?"

Adam's lips twitched in irritation. Samuel's persistent questions were grating on his nerves. He wanted to stomp away and shut himself off from the barrage of personal inquiries and that incessant stare.

"Ah, there are the white lilies," he breathed, eagerly moving to the bucket. The faster he gathered the flowers, the better. Adam's amber eyes flicked to the clock; it was nearly eleven, meaning he wouldn't have to endure Samuel's company much longer.

"You can't feel anything in your right hand?" Samuel continued to prattle. "How bad is it?"

"It's personal!" Adam snapped, standing with a few white lilies in his arm. He spun to face the shorter man, glaring down at him. "How many times do I have to say it's personal? Stop asking about it!"

Samuel's expression shifted oddly. Adam couldn't fathom what was wrong with him, but his curiosity was infuriating. Weren't people taught manners anymore?

"We hardly know each other, so back off." Adam sighed, running a hand down his face in frustration. "I'm sorry. It's just a very personal and sensitive issue for me, okay? I don't want to talk about it."

Blinking slowly, Samuel nodded, his head bowed. Adam felt a pang of guilt at Samuel's crestfallen expression, but he couldn't retract his words. His injury was a sore, private matter.

"Anyway, the Sunshine Happiness bouquet is meant to radiate joy and is perfect for celebrating happy occasions or brightening someone's day," Adam explained, turning sharply to return to the workstation. "It's our last bouquet for today. Let's hurry and finish it. I'm tired and just want to lie down."

Adam was indeed exhausted. He longed to lie down but also yearned to explore Lesse. He wanted to visit the Keukenhof Forest, the historic Ter Specko, and the Black Tulip Museum. He had plans, whether people believed him or not. There were places he wanted to see.

"Okay," Samuel mumbled quietly, sounding genuinely upset.

Adam sighed to himself.

~#~

Did he do that?

Lucifer swallowed thickly as he stared after Adam, watching him limp and drag his foot behind him. His chest ached, and his stomach churned. His lips pressed together, tilting downward with a small quiver. No matter what Lucifer did, he couldn't tear his eyes away from Adam's feet. Adam hadn't been limping before, had he? No, he definitely hadn't. Lucifer would have remembered. His heart pounded as he fiddled with the next bouquet order.  He'd been too pushy and Adam had snapped at him, Lucifer had tried to rein himself in. He knew he was being overbearing, but... but...

There was no excuse. Lucifer couldn't understand what was wrong with him. The sight of Adam struggling to walk, struggling to hold things with his right hand, sent his heart leaping into his throat in horror. The first and only thought that stuck was: I did that.

Lucifer did that.

Was that why Adam wasn't at the Heaven meetings? Is this why Michael and Sera seemed furious with him? Had... had Lucifer really gone too far? He hadn't meant to hurt Adam so badly. It was just supposed to be a scare tactic.

Lucifer bit back a grumble. Two full days had passed, and both days he had failed at striking up a meaningful conversation with Adam. It felt as though the man was purposely avoiding him, yet they were both 'volunteering' at the same time, in the same place!

He glanced at Adam again, making sure he wasn't about to run away this time.

"I'm sorry," he finally said after two long hours of silence. "I-I'm sorry... for yesterday. I was rude. Insensitive. I shouldn't have... done that."

Adam paused in arranging the pink and red tulips for their newest bouquet. He blinked in surprise and looked at Lucifer. "I knew you were being too quiet."

"I don't normally talk that much," Lucifer said weakly. "I just... I don't know. I was rude, and I'm sorry."

"It's okay, really. I was rude too." Adam shrugged and sent him a half-smile. "So stop beating yourself up over it, okay, Samuel? It's fine."

Samuel?

Oh right. That was his fake name.

Lucifer nodded, and silence seeped between them once more. His eyes lowered, gazing at the mess of stems and leaves scattered before him. His fingers twitched, fiddling with one of the stems.

"Um, so... do you have any plans today?" he sheepishly asked, desperate to keep the conversation going.

Adam clicked his tongue. "Yeah. I want to go to the Keukenhof Forest. It's the main reason I came all this way... I was supposed to go yesterday, but I was too tired."

"Oh." Lucifer deflated. There went his clever plan of spending more time with Adam. He had come to the realisation that the few hours they spent together weren't enough.

"You... you can come with me if you want?" Adam awkwardly suggested. “I mean, if you’ve got nothing else to do and if you even want to…”

"Yes!" Lucifer exclaimed before blushing and composing himself. "I mean, yes please. That would be great."

Adam eyed him before shrugging. Lucifer let out a sigh he didn't realise he'd been holding. At this rate, Adam would think he was a real weirdo...

Maybe he already did.

~#~

The forest was a verdant tapestry, rich with ancient oaks, stately beeches, and towering conifers, their intertwined branches forming a lush, emerald and golden canopy overhead. The forest floor was an artist's palette, blanketed in vibrant hues of bluebells, wild hyacinths, tulips, and buttercups, creating a magical mosaic of blues, purples, and yellows. Every conceivable flower found a home here, transforming the ground into a living, breathing masterpiece. Well-maintained paths wound gracefully through the trees, inviting visitors to lose themselves in the forest's serene and enchanting embrace.

On the west side, pink and purple tulips danced together in the breeze, creating mesmerising waves of color that captivated the eye. A sea of blue flowers extended from the south, merging seamlessly with patches of orange, white, and green blooms, a symphony of colours that stretched as far as the eye could see.

"It's so beautiful," Adam exhaled, his voice filled with awe. Gratitude swelled in his heart for Emily, who had insisted on this break. The sight before him was one of the most exquisite he had ever witnessed, warming his chest with an emotion he hadn't felt in centuries.

The scene was Edenic, stirring memories of the paradise he once knew. As a warm summer breeze tousled their hair, Adam's gaze lingered on the blossoms. Woodpeckers rhythmically tapped the trees, rousing the dozing owls, while songbirds filled the air with their ceaseless melodies. Squirrels darted playfully among the branches, and rabbits ventured shyly from their burrows. Even a deer or two could be seen gracefully passing through.

"So beautiful," Samuel echoed softly, his blue eyes reflecting a quiet, almost pained admiration as he watched Adam. Every subtle shift in Adam's expression, every minute tremor, was absorbed by Samuel's attentive gaze.

Adam hummed, lost in wonder, his lips curling into a breathtaking smile. Sensing Samuel's intense stare, he turned, eyebrow raised in silent inquiry, questioning yet comfortable in the shared, profound moment.

Awkwardly, Samuel rubbed the back of his neck and tilted away. "It's pretty warm. Do you want ice cream? Let's get some ice cream!"

"Oh, um, okay." Adam watched the shorter man hurry toward the ice cream stand nearby, eyebrows raising further. Samuel was a peculiar human with a penchant for staring. In Adam's opinion, he stared far too much. Since their less-than-pleasant first meeting, Adam had noticed Samuel seeking opportunities to talk to him over the past two days. Adam had done his best to avoid it. He didn't know why. He didn't think Samuel had any malicious intentions; he was just curious. But something inside him kept whispering not to trust Samuel.

Still, Samuel looked so innocently cute. Adam couldn't decide. Perhaps it was his trust issues acting up again. But maybe he had been too harsh. Maybe Samuel was just like him—lonely and looking for a friend. Adam could handle that. It might even be nice to have a friend outside of Heaven and Hell.

"I don't know what flavour you'd like, but I got you a simple mini-chocolate. Can't go wrong with that!" Samuel gasped, returning with the cone. "Here!"

Startled when Samuel thrust the ice cream towards him, Adam's eyes widened as he took the cone bashfully. "O-Oh, you didn't need to buy me one. I was about to come over and get one myself."

The red flush that coloured Samuel's face was unexpectedly endearing, adding an extra layer of sweetness to his already charming demeanour. Adam found himself charmed by it, thinking it made Samuel look even more delightful.

"Um," Samuel stammered, shifting awkwardly, his social discomfort mirroring Adam's own. Maybe Samuel really was like him after all. "I wanted to. You invited me, so I figured it would—um, it would...even things out?"

Adam chuckled as Samuel winced at his own rambling. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

As if a switch had been flipped, the strawberry-blonde man’s face lit up with a radiant, blinding grin, showcasing his perfect teeth. Adam couldn’t help but return the smile, and together, they continued along the trail, savouring their ice cream—Adam with mint chocolate and Samuel with strawberry.

"So, um, why did you come to...Lesse?" Samuel asked quietly, wincing as if he had made a mistake. "I’m sorry if I’m prying. Feel free to tell me to shut up if you want."

Adam snorted, tilting his head and peering at Samuel from the corner of his eye. "I needed a break from the stress back home. Just needed some time away."

"Really?" Samuel straightened, looking up at Adam with newfound interest. "I-I mean, cool, me too! We have so much in common! We both have stress back home! Um..."

A laugh bubbled from Adam’s lips. "You’re so strange."

"Ha-ha-ha..." Samuel chuckled sheepishly, his forced smile melting into a genuine one as his shoulders relaxed. "I’m sorry. I’m not used to... this. Talking to people. I’m typically... alone.  I don’t, I’m not around people often."

"You don’t need to explain yourself," Adam said, his tone warm. "I get it. We all have our struggles. I’m not exactly a social butterfly myself. I’m probably just as bad at it."

A weak, uncertain chuckle escaped Samuel, his shoulders slumping slightly. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "A-Anyway, you were saying? Y-You needed time away from home? Bad stuff happened?"

"You could say that," Adam replied, glancing down at the ice cream in his left hand. It felt odd using his left hand now; he had always been right-handed. The switch felt awkward and forced. "A lot of things happened with my...family. My head wasn't in a great place to begin with, but then some drama happened, which just made everything worse."

Samuel's gaze softened as he watched Adam’s feet, noticing the way he dragged them slightly. He winced, sensing the weight of Adam's words. "Did... did it involve your accident?"

Adam was silent for a moment, his eyes dropping to his own feet before he released a deep sigh. "Yeah, there was a lot of family drama surrounding my accident. I needed to get away, hoping some distance might help me, you know, feel better."

"I see." Samuel bit his lower lip, his expression full of genuine concern.

It was odd but endearing—Samuel seemed more genuinely empathetic than anyone Adam had encountered in a long time. It was strange, considering how little Samuel knew him, yet he showed more compassion than he’d ever received from Heaven. Adam inhaled deeply, savouring the sweet fragrance of the surrounding flowers.

"What about you, Sammy?" Adam teased playfully, his smile widening as Samuel looked at him in surprise and a touch of confusion. "Why are you in Lesse? Did you travel all the way here just to see the blossoms too?"

Samuel seemed to ponder for a moment before arriving at a decision. It was oddly charming how he bit his lower lip and scrunched up his tiny nose in thought, a lock of strawberry-blonde hair falling across his forehead and brushing his delicate blue eyes.

"For similar reasons, I guess," he said softly, his voice gentle. "I... haven’t been in the best headspace either. I've been pretty sick—yeah, sick for a while now. I wasn’t helping myself; I was making myself worse and…"

Adam's heart ached as he saw the pain etched on Samuel’s face.

"My daughter practically forced me out of the house," Samuel continued weakly. "She said it was unhealthy for me to stay locked inside like I had been. My... ex-wife left me about eight years ago, and it hit me hard. I was already sick before she left, but I guess she just got tired of watching me deteriorate."

"That's terrible," Adam said, disbelief coloring his voice. "She just left you because you were unwell?"

Samuel shrugged meekly, his gaze drifting to the beautiful flowers around them. "I guess she grew tired of trying to help me or something. She wasn’t the most loving person; in fact, she was pretty cold. One day, she just up and left. Sent me divorce papers the very next day."

Frowning deeply, Adam felt a surge of anger but managed to keep it in check. "I'm really sorry to hear that. If it means anything, I think it's her loss. She’ll regret it eventually. I believe you’re a better person than she ever was."

Samuel’s eyes widened in astonishment, as if Adam had handed him the moon. "You really think I'm a better person?"

"Well, yeah," Adam replied with a smile. "I think you are. Everyone makes mistakes and faces uncertainty. It’s the good people who try to make amends and move forward."

Samuel was quiet for a few moments, absorbing Adam’s words. His blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight, the redness in his cheeks softening as he processed the compliment. After a few seconds, he looked up at Adam and gave him a real, genuine smile—a smile so warm and heartfelt that it nearly brought Adam to his knees. It was a smile Adam had only seen once before, centuries ago in Eden.

His heart skipped a beat, and Adam swallowed hard, feeling his cheeks flush warmer than they should.

“I really hope that someday I can become a…good person.” Samuel said warmly. 

“I’m sure you will be.”

[ferigrieving]

born a weapon.

⊹ ࣪ i know there’s better brothers / but you’re the only one thats mine.

a.n sorry it’s short i wrote this on my phone 😓

⤷ masterlist ; requests open ; i. goodnight moon ; iii. orpheus and eurydice ; 1.8k words

shadows flickered and danced, casting eerie shapes across the faded wallpaper. thunder rumbled like a beast awakened, shaking the walls of their dingy old apartment. a storm was brewing outside, one dark and angry, threatening to consume anything in its path.

shouto huddled in the corner of the bed, clutching his blanket to his chest. his wide eyes mirrored the lightning outside, every crash of thunder eliciting a whimper. the windows were rattling, and shouto felt like the walls were caving in, threatening to eat him alive.

sitting at the kitchen table, you couldn't help but flinch as a crack of thunder tore through the skies, lighting up  the dreary apartment for a second too long. your fingers shook as you wrote a grocery list, kanji blending into each other and forming an unreadable conglomeration.

touya was across from you, fidgeting with a pocket knife he had stolen from the lawson’s down the street.  he had picked up where you left off last night in cleaning the kitchen, and was now lounging on the rackety old dining chair you had picked up on the side of the road. if he noticed your hands shaking, he didn't say anything.

like a gust of wind, you heard shouto cry out, voice a small, terrified echo in the vast expanse of the night, and in an instant, he was across the room, appearing at the foot of the bed like an apparition.

shouto’s eyes darted to touya’s, searching for something, anything. another boom, and he flinched, tears spilling over. you crawled onto the bed, arms wrapping around shouto, pulling him into a protective embrace.

the storm raged on outside, a relentless force of nature against the fragile apartment. the windows rattled, a sharp, rhythmic clatter against the backdrop of thunder's roar. shouto's trembling form was pressed against yours, seeking solace in your presence. touya stood silently, a figure in black, a contrast to the terror etched on his younger brother's face. he was never the best at comforting, more of a practical person than an emotional person.

"it's just a storm, shou’," touya muttered, voice steady despite the chaotic atmosphere. his fingers danced over the edge of his pocket knife out of habit. "just the weather bein’ dramatic."

shouto didn't respond, just burrowed deeper into your embrace, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. the room was a tableau of shadows and light, every flicker of lightning casting an eerie glow over the scene. touya's eyes were fixated on the window, watching the dance of the rain against the glass, an ever-present rhythm of drops hitting the cracked pane.

shouto's eyes widened, the lightning illuminating his tear-stained face as he looked up at touya. the thunder roared again, making him flinch. he buried his face into your shoulder, his body shaking. 

"its… loud," he whimpered, voice wavering. touya's lips twitched in a brief smirk. 

"yeah, storms are like that," he shrugged, leaning against the doorframe. "just noise and bluster. a whole lot of nothing."

shouto peeked out from your embrace, his small frame trembling like a leaf in a hurricane. 

"but what if… storm is angry?" he asked, voice trembling. "what if it wanna hurt us?" 

touya chuckled softly, but it was a humourless sound. "storms don't have feelings, kiddo," he replied, a dismissive tone in his voice. “it’ll pass.”

and as if god himself was watching, all the lights in the apartment went out in an instant.

the sudden loss of light sent a wave of panic through shouto. his scream pierced the air, echoing through the apartment. you tightened your grip around him, while touya froze in place for a brief moment.

"it's just a power outage." touya said, his voice surprisingly steady despite the darkness. he glanced around, eyes adjusting to the dim moonlight filtering through the curtains. you internally cursed him for his inability to empathise with people, but you couldn't blame him for the way he was raised.

the sudden, brief illumination of the lightning made it seem as if the shadows themselves were dancing, a grotesque puppet show against the walls. shouto shuddered in your arms, eyes wide with fear as he watched the shadows move.

and the silence was deafening, a sharp contrast to the earlier commotion. shouto's breathing was ragged, his small frame trembling against you. 

touya pushed off the wall, his silhouette cutting through the darkness. he moved with a deliberate precision, making his way towards the table where the grocery list lay. 

without warning, another clap of thunder struck, causing shouto to jump. his grip on you tightened until you could feel his nails digging into your skin.

touya reached the table and began feeling around in the darkness, his hands brushing against stray objects. reaching into the junk drawer, his fingers closed around the dented matchbox, and with a small flick of the wrist, the dining room was illuminated in an instant. from where you and shouto sat in the bedroom, touya looked like he was bathing in the flames, and you couldnt help but feel a pang of fear.

the small flame cast long shadows across the walls, giving the room an eerie, almost otherworldly ambiance. despite the situation, touya seemed unfazed, his voice steady and detached.

"we’re almost out of rice," he said, his voice low, as he grabbed the grocery list from the table. “and eggs.”

“touya, not now.” you hissed, rocking shouto back and forth in attempt to soothe him. you could feel his tears seeping through your thin shirt, dousing the whole thing in liquid fear.

touya raised an eyebrow, the flicker of the lighter's flame casting harsh shadows on his face. 

"what? it's true," he retorted, setting the list back on the table. the light flickered out, plunging the room back into darkness. 

shouto clung to you, eyes wide and glossy with tears. another bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, accompanied by an earth-shattering crash of thunder. shouto cried out, his small frame shaking violently. you held him tightly, your own heart pounding in your chest. you weren’t the best with loud noises, especially that of thunder, but you couldn’t let shoto know that. not now, and maybe not ever.

touya paused, the lighter flickering in his fingers. he looked at shouto, his expression unreadable. touya's gaze softened for a moment, but it was gone so quickly that you almost didn't catch it.

he made his way to the window, the dancing shadows on the wall seeming more sinister with the flicker of light. putting down the list on the bed, he pulled back the curtains, revealing the storm outside. touya muttered a curse under his breath as he spotted the water seeping in through the edges of the window. 

shouto flinched at the sounds, burying his face even deeper into your chest. his hands came up to clutch at your shirt, almost desperate.

lightning flashed again, bathing the room in a brief moment of illumination. through the window, touya could see the storm in all its feral glory. rain lashed against the window, water trickling in through the edges.

he crouched down closer to the window, his gaze fixed on the tempest outside, the roar of the storm a sharp contrast to shouto's soft sobs against your chest. 

shouto's little hands clenched onto your shirt, his grip desperate, seeking comfort in the midst of his fear.

you stroked his hair gently, trying to offer as much reassurance as you could. the storm outside seemed relentless, the rain a constant drumming against the window, and the thunder like an angry god's wrath against the earth.

touya turned away from the window, the lighter's flame flickering in the darkness. he sat back on the edge of the bed, the grocery list now forgotten. "it's just a storm, shouto," he echoed, his voice softer now.

lightning flashed again, this time followed by a particularly loud thunderclap, and shouto cried out in fright, burying his face against your chest.

as the room was bathed in the harsh flash of light, you could see touya's expression soften just a bit more. he looked at shouto's trembling form, his lips pursed in a slight frown.

"it won't hurt you," he reassured, his voice less sarcastic than usual. "it's just noise. don't let it scare you. you’re big and strong like your brother."

touya perched himself beside you on the bed, his form silhouetted by the pale light filtering through the windows. he was unnaturally still, watching shouto's tear-stained face with an almost tender expression. 

it was rare to see touya like this, soft around the edges, devoid of his usual snark and sarcasm. he gently reached out, his long fingers hovering over shouto's trembling hand.

shoto flinched slightly when touya's hand found his, but he didn't pull away. his teary eyes peeked out from behind your shoulder, looking up at touya with a mixture of fear and surprise.

"it's just a storm," touya repeated, his touch gentle as he rubbed small, comforting circles on shoto's hand. "nothing to be scared of. it won't hurt you."

shifting slightly, you beckoned him into bed with you two, opening the blanket for just one more.

touya hesitated for a moment, his expression unreadable as his eyes flicked between you and shoto. blowing out the match and placing it on top of the window sill, he reluctantly climbed into bed, the old mattress creaking under his weight. 

he arranged himself on the edge, keeping a small buffer between himself and the two of you. shoto, perhaps feeling a bit safer with his brother nearby, inched closer to touya, seeking the extra layer of comfort.

the storm continued outside, rain and thunder creating a symphony of natural chaos. inside the small apartment, you, touya and shouto huddled together in the dim light, seeking refuge from the storm. 

shouto’s trembles had lessened, although he was still pressed firmly against you. touya sat silently, his gaze fixed on the rain-streaked window. his fingers were twitching, itching his pocket knife or a cigarette or anything to keep his hands busy.

another crash of thunder split the air, making shoto flinch. touya's hand twitched, as if he was about to reach out and comfort his brother, but he quickly restrained himself. 

there was a moment of tense silence before touya cleared his throat. "hey, shouto," he said softly. shoto looked up at him, eyes still watery but now filled with curiosity. “do you want to count?”

he sniffled, peering up at touya with wide, hopeful eyes. "count…what?" he asked, his voice still shaky.

touya gave a dry chuckle, his fingers continuing to make small, circular motions on shoto's hand. "the seconds between thunder and lightning," he hummed. "it gives you something to focus on instead of the noise. and it tells ya’ how far away the lighting is."

shouto’s eyes widened at that, his fear momentarily replaced by curiosity. he looked up at touya, a hint of excitement on his face.

"really?" he asked, his voice slightly tinged with wonder. touya chuckled softly. "yeah, kid," he confirmed. "count the seconds, and you can tell how far away the storm is. the longer the time, the further away it is from hurting us."

as if on cue, another bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, followed by a boom of thunder a few seconds later. shoto glanced at the window, then back at touya. 

"one, two, three..." he whispered, as if he was afraid the storm would hear him . touya smiled, his fingers still tracing gentle circles on shouto's hand. you shifted so you could rest your free hand on touya,  thumbing the smooth, cold metal of his hip piercings.

as they continued to count, shoto slowly calmed down. the storm no longer seemed as ominous, replaced instead with an odd sense of curiosity. 

the rain continued to pour outside, a steady rhythm against the window sill. shoto's counting was becoming slower, his eyes growing heavy with fatigue and the late hour. touya glanced at him, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

“how far away is the storm, shouto?” you murmured into his hair, inhaling the sweet smell of his shampoo.

shoto's eyes fluttered open, trying to focus on the window. he struggled for a moment, still half asleep. 

"four… four aways," he mumbled, his words slurring with exhaustion. touya chuckled again, his hand still gently rubbing shoutos. 

"far enough that it won't hurt us," he reassured. "let's get some more counting in before you go night-night, yeah?"

shoto nodded sleepily, his eyes half-lidded. he counted slowly, but each number was a little more lucid than the last. 

after a few more seconds, shoto's counting trailed off, replaced by a soft, steady breathing. it seemed the storm and the counting had done their job - shoto had finally drifted off to sleep in the safety of your and touya's arms.

as shoto slept, touya's gaze softened. he looked down at the younger boy, a mixture of protectiveness and something else flickering in his eyes. 

your head rested gently on his shoulder, exhaustion weighing down on both of you. the apartment was quiet now, save for the steady rhythm of rain against the window.

"he’s out," touya murmured, breaking the silence. "guess that was enough counting for one night." 

he shifted slightly, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you even closer.

touya's eyes flicked from the sleeping child to the storm outside, the harsh and chaotic flashes of lightning cutting across his face like sharpened knives. the rain slapped against the window in a relentless rhythm, beating like the wings of a desperate bird trying to gain entrance into the house.

he released a heavy sigh, his breath hitching in his throat as he tried to suppress the lump that was slowly forming in his chest. gently, his fingers continued to ghost along shouto's skin, tracing patterns only he could understand. you could see the conflict in his eyes, a battle between responsibility and emotion.

the storm seemed to amplify the silence inside the apartment. the only sounds were the steady rise and fall of shoto's breathing, the tapping of rain on glass, and the occasional creak of the building.

touya's hands lingered on shoto's skin, his touch almost reverent. he seemed torn, his eyes darting between the storm outside and the child sleeping peacefully in his lap.

you watched him closely, noticing the slight tremor in his fingers, the furrow in his brow. it was clear he was struggling to contain something, some deep and complex emotion that threatened to spill over.

“let’s count.”

touya's eyes narrowed as he looked at you, skepticism written all over his face. but you could see the slightest flicker of resignation in his gaze as well. 

he knew you weren't going to let him go until he at least tried to sleep. “count what?” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest in a defensive gesture.

“‘the seconds between thunder and lightning’” you echoed his previous words, leaning on him slightly as shouto was nestled in your arms.

touya's arms fell to his sides, and he rolled his eyes, though the gesture was half-hearted. 

“seriously? that’s kid stuff,” he muttered, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

he looked down at shouto, his expression softening slightly. then he sighed, resigning himself to the task.

"fine, fine. let's count, then," he said, his voice resigned yet tinged with a hint of amusement.

as you began to count together, the room seemed to shrink around you. the rain and thunder were distant now, almost insignificant in the face of this small, intimate act.

touya, despite his protests, was getting drowsy. his eyelids drooped as he counted, the numbers spilling from his lips like a prayer. 

he stole glances at you, each time his gaze a little softer than before. the tension in his shoulders slowly melted away, replaced with a weary kind of peace.

“one, two, three.”

the counting continued, the numbers blending into a soft, soothing cadence. every time a flash of lightning illuminated the room, touya would glance at the window, as if to make sure the storm was still as safe a distance away as it ever was. 

but his eyes always returned to you, lingering a little longer each time.

“five, six, seven,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. the exhaustion was beginning to catch up with him, each word a little slower than the last.

touya's voice was getting slower, the words slurring together in a way that showed just how tired he really was. 

he tried to stay awake, to keep his eyes open, but it was a losing battle. his head would droop, his chin almost touching his chest, and then suddenly he'd jerk back up as if jolted awake by a sudden burst of energy.

the rain continued to beat against the window, its steady rhythm now a strange kind of lullaby.

“eight, nine…”

despite his best efforts to stay awake, touya's body began to betray him. fatigue tugged at his eyelids, weighing down his limbs and making even the simple act of speaking feel like a herculean task.

the numbers he was whispering grew softer and more difficult to decipher, his voice heavy with sleep. his eyes would flutter shut for a few seconds before he'd jerk awake, blinking rapidly as if trying to dispel the exhaustion.

touya's voice faded off, replaced by a heavy sigh as his head lolled backwards. he was fighting a losing battle against sleep, his body no longer able to keep up the act.

he blinked owlishly at the ceiling, his eyes drifting shut again almost immediately. the only sounds in the room were the soft, even breaths from both you and shouto, the steady drumming of the rain, and…

the soft, nearly inaudible sound of a snore escaping touya's parted lips.

“ten.”

[theflowerrooms]

dad spencer headcannons PLEASE

THIS IS SO CUTE I LOVED DOING THIS SO MUCH

Lowkey wanna write more dad!spencer

Spencer was always loving and caring, always doting on you. But since you’d gotten pregnant, he’s done nothing but take excellent care of you, doing everything in his power to make sure you’re not overexerting yourself, and making sure you’re comfortable and healthy.

Spencer started off having pre-parental panic for the first three months of your pregnancy. He read countless amounts of books on parenting and pregnancy, he knew everything from what you should eat to what what you should watch on tv in order to have the happiest, healthiest pregnancy.

Picking the name was a hassle, you would constantly blank, not thinking of a single name you liked, and Spencer would suggest names like Mildred, Earl, or something from a different language that, while it would have a beautiful meaning, you struggled to pronounce.

When you found out you were having a boy, you both eventually decided to name the baby after people you cared about, and when he was born, he was given the name Jason David Reid. It was beyond important to Spencer that you’d named him after Gideon.

Your birth wasn’t nearly as hard as your pregnancy, and all of it was worth it when your baby was cleaned up and in your arms.

It felt even more worth it when they placed him in Spencer’s, seeing a father hold his son for the first time. You’d seen Spencer cry, a few times. But you’d never seen him cry like this, tears of love and enchantment, tears for you, tears for your baby, and tears for your family.

Spencer was the only one in the room during your birth, at your request. It wasn’t until afterward that they let people in, and of course, the team who’d been waiting at the hospital for six hours crowded into the room, washing their hands at Spencer’s request.

You both cried again, watching your baby be passed around between these people that you loved like family. Penelope had been crying since a nurse informed her that your baby boy had been born healthy and happy. Jj cried the first time she saw him, Emily cried the second he was in her arms. Rossi sobbed when he heard his name for the first time.

Your first night home from the hospital was hard. The baby slept so good, he hardly cried, he was such a happy baby. But you and Spencer were so nervous. He’d read every book and website he could get his hands on, spoken to so many seasoned parents and paediatricians. But still you both were nervous.

That quickly faded, and you got used to having a new baby. You’d gotten used to waking up to change or feed him, gotten used to the weight of a baby in your arms.

He wasn’t a big baby, still very healthy and happy, just a little guy. And he already looked like Spencer, button nose and a full head of hair, just a shade darker than his father’s.

The baby went through a series of nicknames. Because Jason’s a lovely name, just not a baby name, and David felt worse. You went from calling him Jay, to JJ, which was confusing, to JD, which is what stuck. Baby JD, JD Reid.

JD was happy and content almost all the time, but what calmed him down fastest was the sound of Spencer’s voice. So Spencer would spend hours talking to JD, explaining the history of Hallows Eve, or telling him about different types of plants.

When JD was around 10 months, he said his first word which was bird. He loved birds, his mobile had handmade birds sewn by Penelope, his wallpaper had little blue birds just below the trim, He saw them a lot outside in the yard. Spencer cried the first time he said it, from how cute it was, from the fact that Gideon loved birds before he passed.

As JD grew, he proved himself to be very intelligent, which Spencer took great pride in. He was speaking full sentences before he turned two, he could identify many different types of dinosaurs, which became his new obsession after birds.

Spencer would read to him often, the first book being ‘Goodnight Moon’, the second being ‘The Narrative of John Smith.” JD was able to remember nearly all of the words to the books that Spencer would read to him, but he struggled to read and he was diagnosed with Dyslexia when he was almost 5.

Being a dad and husband is the most important thing to Spencer. He happily spends less time working and more time with JD and you.

Neither you nor Spencer had cried so much until you became parents, he’d cry over how cute you looked holding JD in your arms as he slept, he’d cry over how sweet JD’s voice was as he told him he loved him, He’d cry watching JD and Hank play pirates together. And he broke down in tears of love when JD ran to hug him when he got home, wearing a shirt that read “big brother”

[pascallatte]

That kind of stuff

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Actress!reader

Summary: What's going on behind the camera in one of Pedro's interviews.

Date: December 2020

Warnings: talk abt pornstars (iykyk)

A/N: omggg we're in the 20s nowwwww!!! I can't wait for you to read what's coming!!! sorry for posting early the next day, my Wi-Fi's having problems....

Another at-home interview? Why not it’s all people can get nowadays, so better get used to it. Pedro had already set up his area with the Wonder Woman wallpaper behind him. You were seated beside him, doing your own thing when he tapped you on the shoulder, signalling that his interview was starting.

“Hey, guys. Welcome to “Stir Crazy. My guest today is a struggling actor, starring in tiny projects like “The Mandalorian” and “Wonder Woman: 1984.” The host, Josh, enthusiastically opened making you stop what you’re doing in order to watch them.

“I’m here to give him a big break, It’s Pedro Pascal”

Smiling, Pedro raises his arms, “Finally, my big break, Thank you so much” he said sarcastically 

“Schmunder woman, nope. Let’s talk about the important stuff, You’re one of the sexiest men alive, You’re one of people magazine’s sexiest men alive,” Josh laughs when Pedro opens up his buttoned-up jacket.

Pedro opens it, superman style, “in plaid, that my girlfriend chose for me today.”

“And he’s got the plaid to prove it,” the host continues after having a good laugh.

“Does this validate you? Did you always know you had this in you?”

“Of course I did, it’s the only time where she gave me sincere compliments than back-handed ones,” he said subtly pointing at you, making the host once again ask. You stood up, making Pedro follow your form, asking where you were going with his eyes. Pointing to your room, he nods focusing back on the interview.

“So the title suggests the setting is 1984. So let’s- ok at the count of three, let’s each of us name our favorite 1980s song”, josh instructed Pedro, as he himself was getting ready to answer. 

“You ready?”

“One-“

“Purple Rain,” Pedro immediately said with a straight face. Making the host wheeze, “Wow, I didn’t even, okay. So yeah. That’s it”

They both laugh one in disbelief and one proud of his answer, “End of story.”

“What’s yours?” Pedro prodded, teasing the host. “You’re a kid. You weren’t even born.”

“I’m 97 years old. I was going to go with- I don’t know.” Josh defended himself before stating the obvious answers someone would say if asked about the 80s. “What do you think?”

“I wanna dance with somebody,” Pedro whispers, enclosing his mouth with his hands.”with somebody who…loves…me” he finishes.

“Okay, when you do it like that, just so you know it gets creepy,” 

He places a hand on the left side of his face covering his mouth, “blame-,” he points to you with his thumb, who coincidentally emerged out of your room. Shooting him a confused look, you can only shrug, return to your seat, and listen to them again.

Before you can even sit, a thought came into your mind. Nudging Pedro who looked at you for a second, you stand up infant of him. Tilting his head slightly, switching his look from the screen and you. Once you’ve got his attention, you pointed to the espresso machine you guys have, asking if he wanted some. He signals you to wait for a second.

“Is that Tom Selleck?” He said answering the host's question.

“It’s tom selleck, it’s Tom Selleck,” josh’s voice could be heard. “Hold on a minute,” Pedro says turning to look at you.

“Oh, uh ok,” confused, the host can only guess what would happen behind the camera.

Unknown to you, your voices can still be heard in the recording, catching what you guys were talking about. Looking at you, “What was it you were asking?” Pedro asks.

“I was asking if you wanted some coffee, it’s too early in the morning and we haven’t had coffee before this,” you whispered back to him.

“Oh, sure, thank you, amor,” he whispered back, shooting you a grateful smile.

Turning back to the camera, “ I have returned.” Pedro says in a villainous voice.

“I’m sorry, but you- I'm guessing your partner, y/n, can be heard. Is that ok with you or should we cut it out?” Josh says concerned for your privacy, even over the simplest thing.

“Oh, no, no. It’s ok. So where were we,” Pedro bypasses the host concern and drags it back to the mood of the interview.

“Ok..back to it,” josh grabs a paper, showing it to Pedro. “He’s living on a prayer man.”

While Pedro was having his sweet time in the interview, you just stood in the kitchen, staring at the wall, waiting for your coffee to finish. You thought that you’d get something to eat, but that was too noisy, so saving it for later, you chose to sit and wait.

As soon as the coffees ready, you took them walking back to the room you were previously in. Noticing Pedro who was laughing looking a bit flushed. Deciding to take a seat in front of him, you place down his cup then yours. You heard the host mention a name but you didn’t really mind it until you heard Pedro’s answer.

“Porn star,” he said smiling, heat slowly crawling up his cheeks when he sees you staring at him, with an eyebrow raised.

“You knew that too quickly, You knew that really quickly,” you heard josh say pointedly at him, before laughing. You continue to look at him with the same eyebrow raised, drinking your coffee, while Pedro smiled through the silent accusation.

“Are you frozen or are you just enjoying the moment?”

“I’m just enjoying the moment and fighting to avoid my girlfriend's intense stare,” Pedro stated smile still lingering on his face.

“Well, let’s see what your partner thinks of you when you answer these next few questions,” josh teases.

“George Payne?”

“He’s a super hero.”

Shocked Pedro widens his eyes, “No, It’s a pornstar. You got to look that one up,” you heard the interviewer say, making you whip your head from when you were looking at your phone.

“Hector Hammond?”

Drinking the coffee you gave him, “DC,” he says full of confidence.

“Yeah yeah, that’s a green lantern villain, I think Peter Skarsgard played that one.”

“The one with the plants and the flashlights,” Pedro says before bursting out a raspberry at what he’d said. “You sold it well.” The host laughed.

“Black Adam? Porn star or DC character?”

“Dc character.”

Nodding, “that’s dj, that’s the rock,” josh continues

“Buck adams.”

“Pornstar,” pedro says before looking at you expectedly, and of course you were there watching him intently know still with an eyebrow raised.

“I feel like you’ve seen some of buck’s work,”

“I mean we’re writing this down, right? Because-“ the host wheezes out laughing at Pedro’s comment. “That’s the rest of your day.”

“I need to look all of this up, that is if y/- am I allowed to mention her? Can I mention you here?” He asks the host before looking at you. Shrugging at first you turn around to give him a nod drinking your coffee.

“I- yeah sure, if that’s ok with her,” the host assures him.

“Yeah, she’s ok with that. If-if y/n allows me I mean, because she’s been giving me the stare the whole time we were talking about the-these stars,” Pedro said chuckling making the host laugh.

They calmed down after a few seconds, going serious all of a sudden.

“Harold…..Allnut?”

“Harold Walnut?” Pedro asks leaning closer to the camera.

“Harold allnut,” silence ensues staring at each other before laughing out loud, making similar kettle noises.

“I mean, would it matter which one he is?” Your boyfriend asks, face redder than before.

“Oh, I’ll watch his work regardless. What do you think?”

“I’ll watch his work regardless-,” moving his head side to side, pedro quotes him evidently having way too much fun. “-Regardless, I am a fan,” he continues.

“I hope he’s a pornstar-“ you drown out what ever they were saying focusing on the script you were reading. But curious on what had happened you tried to search one of the names you’ve heard from there. At first you thought it wasn’t too bad, but as you scroll down the things and figures you’ve seen has become too much that you shut your laptop of listening back to them.

“-nd then, if I’m going to speak to them in the Mando voice, it’s kind of a, it’s strangely like a bedroom voice, you know?” Pedro says hesitatingly making josh laugh.

You giggle to yourself at that, situating yourself directly next to Pedro.

“Yeah, that’s not appropriate for kids, but I don’t know, can we ask y/n?” Josh once again teases him, making him flush shaking his head.

“Ahh, no, no. that’s not Disney channel inappropriate- your question is...” Pedro says shaking his head “No,” sneaking to take a long glance at you, who he saw was trying your hardest to keep your laugh in.

“Ok, uh. Another challenge for you, let’s play a little game of who am I?” 

You saw Vin diesel appear on his part of the screen, making you watch him intently. Also wanting to see how he plays his part.

“Ok so uhm, shave off all of my head, give me a bunch of muscles, and then- and a fast car,” he finishes

“Oh, vin diesel. Easy,” the host exclaims.

The next name shows up, ‘C3PO.’

He does this butchered robotic voice making you cover your mouth to stop noise from flowing out. You can sense that Pedro’s looking at you, based on his reaction after the host had gotten it right.

“I’ve seen “the exorcist” about 117 times-,” he shouts making you jump to turn to look at him, “and it just keeps getting funnier every time I see it,” he continued making you and josh laugh.

Content with the reenactment, “you are beetlejuice, and it seems that not only I was enjoying it but also y/n,” he points out, “we can hear her laughing.”

Nodding, “oh, yeah she’s enjoying this alright,” Pedro tells him smiling widely.

And as the last name pops, you let out a gasp, looking at Pedro who was now laughing loudly. It’s just because coincidentally, or not, your name, rather your character's name, was of course added to the ones he had to describe or act out.

“Aha! This is an easy one, this-to whoever this person is please don’t kill me,” he said still laughing.

“Ok imagine a tiny- tiny agitated person, that rocks the bad ass role despite being….” he looks up thinking of something to describe you. “Oh yo-I’m going to give you this, “Dinos lo que sabes o te meteré esta puta pistola en la garganta y te volaré las entrañas!!” He acts imagining he’s holding a gun downwards. tell us what you know or else I'm gonna shove this fucking gun down your fucking throat and blow your insides out

“I think I should know who this is..” josh says.

“Yeah, I believe you do, that line stayed through out the last two seasons, you know,” he said as a matter of fact. Grin slowly appearing on his face, as he holds back his laughter when he saw you bending over the table red faced.

“Oh I know now, great choice of line by the way.”

Pedro raises his brows expectedly, cupping his ear turning closer to the screen. “It’s Catalina Mendoza, you- Y/n L/n’s character.”

“Bingoooo!!!” Pedro laughs now looking at you with a smile as you shoot him finger guns.

“Okay, okay-so I follow you on the instagram…“ the host continues to introduced their next topic, while you and Pedro talk quietly in order for the video to not record your conversation.

As soon as josh raises the face time picture of Oscar Isaac, you tap Pedro on the shoulder to take a look. He immediately bursted out laughing as he remembered this moment all too well.

“What’s going on here, buddy?”

“There’s our pandemic looks, man. Looking at today.”

“Is oscar Isaac like upside down?”

Guessing they’ll be talking about what had happened for a while, you decided to lay on the couch still kind of listening to the interview in the other room. I mean it’s the pandemic, what else can you do? As an actress, or like an actor in general, you’re always on the move so being at home for the past year had given you the rest you needed. But it didn’t last long really. So here you are now, slowly getting back to normal, kind of quickening up the pace.

Your peace was interrupted when you heard your name being shouted from the other room, curiously, you slowly sat up looking towards their direction. Seeing Pedro beckon you to their side, he pats the chair next to him. Telling the host that you’re there already.

“Ah there she, pedro said that you’d have to share your opinion on this question.”

Looking at your partner, yo just nodded while you waited for the question. “ he said would you rather have me-” he said pertaining to himself, “only dress in 80s clothing or be naked all the time?”

At this point you didn’t want to be seen or heard on camera so you opted on whispering your answer to Pedro, allowing the camera to get a glimpse of your home-clothed figure.

With a smile that grew into a smirk, he laughed at your response before saying a quick “thank you” as you got up.

“Y/- she said she would rather see me dressed in 80s clothing, but it really depends on me,” he said slowly looking at the camera before continuing, “Like can I- if I was naked all the time could I be alone? All the time?” He asked.

“It depends on you-“ the host cut himself off with a laugh when he saw Pedro’s expression. As soon as Pedro gets his response, he looks to the side, to where you were sitting a while ago, with a teasing smirk hinting out his meaning, which as a result makes josh laugh.

“I- do what you do, but you don’t have to live your life man, you just gotta do what you gotta do,” josh says now flushed from all the laughing he’s experienced during the interview.

Pretending to look sad, “I guess I’ll do it in 80s clothing,” Pedro said in a low voice.

“Ok fanny packs all the way, here we go.”

“Only a fanny pack.”

“Would you rather get, “this is the way,” tattooed on your face or on your back?”

“we-,“ motioning to you off-screen,”-had this conversation before and she insisted that I take it on my back, which I- for obvious reason, agree with her.”

“Okay. Yeah. That might limit your roles if you have it on your face,” josh jokes.

“Also, on my back might be a completely different message as well,” Pedro says giving josh a knowing look and a side smile.

Josh, laughs for the millionth time in the last 10 to 15 minutes, “Would you rather be always sweating or always be on the verge of a sneeze?”

Laughing to himself, Pedro’s mins had gone to places before ever answering the host. “oh, there’s kind of something orgasmic about being on the verge of a sneeze all the time- I could maybe- maybe I could get kind of used to that,” he says before acting out what an “orgasmic sneeze,” would ever look like.

“With the tattoo on your back, that’s quite a picture”

“Take it away” grinning to the camera, Pedro looks at you who was now recording him, in which he didn’t notice when.

“Last one, would you rather have a mouthful of bees or one be in your butt?”

“Oh I already have a bee in my butt,” he blows out a laugh. “Yeah, no- a bee in the butt… come one who doesn’t want a bee in the butt?”

“Those are goals.”

“Don’t be knocking it, man.”

Laughing, “I think we learned a lot about each other today. You learned that you’re not quite the porn connoisseur-” josh says making Pedro do a shushing sign with the finger on his mouth.

“- that you thought you were. We learned that you are one of the sexiest man alive-“

“I have work to do,” Pedro says cutting josh off before laughing.

The interview ended a short while after saying their goodbyes and thank you’s. Turning to Pedro who was fixing up his side of the table you gave him a smirk, making him shake his head.

“Soooo,i didn’t know you liked that kind of stuff,” teasingly you say as you cross you arms leaning on the table.

“Mhmm, please don’t bring that up again,” he says before walking to you, pushing you up to sit on the couch instead. In the silence, you both enjoyed your cups of coffee, talking about what to do for the rest of the day.

Taglist: @benonlinear @t-stark35 @heyitsme-2 @elleeeee21 @holmesstrange @tagakalat @flyestvenustrap @oldermenaremyreligion @cherryred444 @hobiismyhopeu @ilovehotdadsandshit @djarinsstuff @guacala @avengersheart @pukka-latte @lilvampirina