#i feel the need to write it just to put them in ridiculous positions

[get-back-homeward]

does anyone else wonder whether the beatles did any actual yoga poses in india?

[phillydilly]

On the edge

⊹♡— In which Charles has finally hit his breaking point and snaps at Ferrari, and his girlfriend is the only one who can calm him down

Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

Authors note: After processing everything that was the US Grand Prix, I decided to write this and pretend that this is exactly what Charles did in real life. I don’t know about Charles but I have certainly reached my breaking point with this fuckass team. Anyways, enjoy?

Charles stood on the grid, his red Ferrari gleaming under the Texan sun. He had secured pole position for the United States Grand Prix in Austin, but his excitement was short-lived. The team had a different strategy in mind, one that involved a risky one-stop tire plan, and Charles couldn't believe it.

"Charles, we're going for the one-stop strategy," his race engineer informed him through the radio.

"One-stop? Are you guys out of your minds?" Charles shouted back, his frustration bubbling over.

Ferrari had been struggling with tire degradation for years, especially at the Circuit of the Americas, and it was a recipe for disaster. He felt like he was being set up for failure. As the race began, he fought to keep his tires alive, but the degradation was merciless.

Lap after lap, Charles watched as other drivers on different strategies flew past him. His tires were giving up, and he felt betrayed by his own team. He couldn't hold back his anger any longer. "This is ridiculous! I can't believe you put me on these tires! What are you thinking?" Charles yelled over the radio.

The Ferrari pit wall was silent for a moment before the voice of the team principal, Fred Vasseur, responded, "Charles, we believe this strategy can work. Just stay focused."

But Charles knew it was a lost cause. The moment the race ended he stormed into the garage after his pit stop, his frustration boiling over. "You guys sabotaged my race! This was a terrible call!"

Charles couldn't hold back his anger any longer. He stormed into the debrief session with his Ferrari team, the tension in the room palpable.

"I can't believe you guys," he began, his voice seething with frustration. "You knew how important this race was for the standings, and you still forced that one-stop strategy on me. It's like you don't even care about my success."

The team members exchanged uneasy glances, but Charles wasn't done. "I've been patient with this team for years, and this is how you repay me? By ruining my race?"

Fred tried to maintain order, "Charles, we believed in the strategy. We thought it could work."

Charles cut him off, his anger unrestrained. "Believed? Believed?! You destroyed my race, and you dare to say you believed? It's absurd!"

As the argument intensified, Charles's teammate Carlos Sainz couldn't stay silent any longer. "Charles, we win as a team, and we lose as a team. We have to trust in the decisions we make together."

Charles turned to Carlos, his eyes blazing with anger. "Trust? You want me to trust a team that has let me down repeatedly? Maybe you can, but I’m sick of this bullshit!"

The room descended into chaos as Charles and the team members went back and forth. Accusations were hurled, and frustrations boiled over. The argument was a maelstrom of emotions and raised voices.

In the midst of the heated debrief session, Charles felt the need to drive home a point. He turned to the team with a determined expression. "You know, Ferrari is not my last option. I've been contacted by several teams, including Red Bull."

The room fell silent as everyone took in his words. The mention of Red Bull, a team that was currently dominating the sport, hung heavily in the air.

"I've been loyal to Ferrari, and I've given my best. But you need to understand that other teams are interested in me," Charles continued, his tone unyielding. "I have choices, and I won't hesitate to explore them if I feel that my commitment and hard work aren't being reciprocated."

The team members exchanged uneasy glances, realizing that Charles had a point. The sport was highly competitive, and top drivers were in demand. Ferrari couldn't afford to lose a talent like him.

They had taken Charles’s loyalty for granted, and never thought he would entertain the idea of leaving. They knew he had other options, but this was a stark wake-up call.

In the midst of the shocked silence that had followed Charles's revelation, Fred began to speak, attempting to address the situation. However, before he could finish his sentence, Charles abruptly stood up, his expression resolute, and without saying a word, he walked out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

The team was left in stunned silence, realizing the gravity of the situation. The realization that Charles, their star driver, had reached a breaking point and walked out of the debrief without another word was a stark reminder that their actions had consequences, and the trust between the driver and the team needed to be urgently repaired.

As he stormed out of the garage and back to his driver's room, he noticed Y/n, his girlfriend, sitting on the sofa with open arms, waiting for him.

He collapsed into her embrace, his anger still burning brightly. Y/n wrapped her arms around him, letting him vent. "Charles, it's okay to be angry," she said softly. "You've been patient with this team for years, and they keep making these decisions that hurt you. It's not fair."

Charles took a deep breath, tears of frustration and anger welling up in his eyes. "I just don't know what to do anymore. I've given them everything, and they do this."

Y/n held him close, her voice filled with empathy. "I understand, Charles. You have every right to be angry. You've earned your place here, and they need to respect that. Let it out; I'm here to support you."

As he continued to express his anger and disappointment, Y/n listened attentively, providing a safe space for him to share his feelings. She understood that this was a breaking point for him, and she was determined to stand by his side.

Just as they were beginning to calm down, a knock on the driver's room door shattered the fragile peace. A Ferrari team member stood there, a worried look on his face.

"What is it?" Charles asked, his heart sinking.

The team member hesitated before responding, "Charles, we've just been informed that there's a technical issue on your car, and it's likely to result in disqualification."

Charles and Y/n exchanged a glance, their hearts heavy with the weight of the news. It seemed that the day had gone from bad to worse, and now the race he had fought so hard for was slipping away.

Charles ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "I can't catch a break today, can I?"

[bunniandhoney]

can you please write an nsfw alphabet for jacob?

why yes, yes i can dear!

Jacob Scipio NSFW Alphabet

mdni. 18+

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Jacob is a pleasure dom, so aftercare is one of his favorite parts of sex. he knows you hate going to bed dirty, so he always makes sure you shower, but if he really wears you out nothing is better than a relaxing bath. Jacob also tries his best to get any tangles from your hair, he’ll separate strand by strand if needed.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

if someone asks him that in public he would say your smile, how infectious it is. but if you asked him on a deeper level he’d say your mouth. He loves when you suck him off, how you immediately push yourself, trying to make sure the tip of your nose meets the hairs at the base of his dick. and then how wet and warm your mouth gets when you do it.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He has a breeding kink. he actually gets upset if he comes anywhere that isn’t your pussy, regardless if you are on birth control or not he has to pump his seed inside you. He also might keep a small plug in his nightstand to ensure you stay full throughout the night.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He’s a panty sniffer; he actually can’t help himself! As soon as he gets them off of you he puts them up to his nose taking a deep breath. He's also been known to slip a couple used pairs in his suitcase when he has to leave, Jacob has to take a piece of you with him.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

bff!jacob: not a virgin, but he’s only ever had sex with one person. Everything else has been a random blowie with a hook up.

alpha detective!jacob: is a virgin! he literally can’t stand anyone else besides his mate, and since he hasn’t claimed anyone yet. The only person allowed to touch him is hisself.

olderbf!jacob: has been around the block a time or two, so to be frank he’s a damn slut. which works in your favor because he treats your body so freaking good. but sometimes, when he’s really rocked your world you just look over at him “where the hell did you learn that?” you say scowling at him.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

well…if we are going to say Jacob has a breeding kink, I believe that a mating press is the only reasonable answer.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

oh he’s dead serious during sex. he’s a pleasure dom and finds nothing funny at all in making you cum. now after…he’s a full blown menace. He definitely seems like the type to mock your moans after the fact.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s probably pretty well groomed, not bare because he does like the hair, but trimmed. He has been known to let it grow to a full jungle on occasion.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Sometimes, you need it soft and Jacob is there to grant every last one of your wishes. He loves to press soft kisses all over your body when you all decide to take it slow; literally from your feet to the crown of your head.

when he puts it in he knows he has to go slow, “it’s okay baby, i know this dick is big, but you always take it so thrust* fucking thrust* good thrust* ”

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

while Jacob is rough with you, he’s so damn gentle with himself. For example, he gives himself slow pumps teasing his other hands down his abs, feeling them contract as he makes his way down to his balls. when he holds then Jacob has to tighten the grip on his dick to keep from coming too fast. and boy is it sticky, he just leaks so much precum it’s ridiculous and messy.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

mkay well we said breeding, so how about overstimulation, for both of you. Jacob refuses to do anything half assed so when he fucks he has so make sure that both of you actually reach your limits and that means fucking you until neither of you can take it anymore.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

kitchen, your counters are the perfect height for him to bend you over and do whatever he wants. He has also pulled a wooden spoon out of the drawer to spank you a time or two.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

of course your very existence gets him going buuuuut; if we’re being specific he loves to see you doing something you're passionate about.

imagine you’re on your knees in front of the coffee table with giant noise canceling headphones trying to focus and you’re just going in on your newest 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle. your tongue poking out just a little on the side as you look for the next matching piece. and unbeknownst to you jacob is so hard he could cut diamonds.

the next thing you know you’re riding his face, “mmm keep working baby, you’re almost there. “ he says muffled by your cunt. and honestly you have no clue if he’s talking about you cumming or you finishing the puzzle, but neither of you really cares.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Jacob is Caribbean, he’s not pissing on anyone or vice versa. Now he’s usually open to trying or at least having a discussion, especially if you’re married. because forever is a long time to not try anything new.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He's a munch, simple as that. Jacob is ready to put his tongue on any part of your body.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

rough and slow actually. He's definitely a manhandler, but he doesn’t want you to miss anything. Jacob needs you to feel everything that he’s doing to you, actually he needs to pound it into you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Jacob prefers to make you come more than once, so he’s not fond of the quickie. but at the same time he needs to have his hands on you and will take whatever you give him, even if it’s a quick handy before you all leave for a date night.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he’s very private and very possessive, he’s most likely not trying anything too risky. Jacob is also a gentleman, so he wouldn’t dare put you in a situation where you might be uncomfortable.

Though I could see him sharing you with a close friend (boy or girl) if you were looking to experiment. He's not stupid though, NDA’s are certainly being passed around.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

If it were up to him, he’s fuck you till he’s sore and then go two more rounds. You see, because Jacob is the kind of man who nuts and stays hard.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Jacob most def has a cock ring, it started off as a gag gift for his birthday, but one night after you all took one too many edibles you two gave it a try. and once he figures out that he could fuck you even longer than usual, he loves the damn thing. he can’t use it too often though because he gets sore.

you don’t use vibrators too often either because you’re so damn sensitive, and Jacob can make you come at the drop off the hat, but not when you’ve been naughty…Jacob will have you tied to the bed, with you laying on your stomach and a vibrating wand snug against your clit while he watches you cum over and over.

He did also get a dildo made in the shape of his dick for you, but he’s so damn possessive that he doesn’t even want to see the silicone inside of you, regardless if it’s modeled after his own dick or not.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh he’s Mr. Teaser himself, Acting CEO of Teasing Inc.

He loves to see you squirm, especially because you are stubborn as hell. He knows the only way for you to let go is to bring you to the very edge. but bringing you there just once is never enough, Jacob needs you practically crying before he lets you come.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Jacob has a tendency to be on the quieter side, but mainly because he wants to get you loud, screaming for him. He also likes to whisper dirty shit in your ear because he’s just that diabolical, so mainly expect gruffs and huffs from him.

Now sub!jacob can’t shut the hell up! There have been plenty of times where you had to put your hand over his mouth in the backseat of the car, just so the driver won’t hear him whine for you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

cowboy fugitive jacob x bounty hunter reader 👀

but could you freaking imagine!!!

————

“This here poster says you’re wanted dead or alive Scipio, and you’re more trouble to me breathing.” YN says holding the pistol to his back. YN had first seen him at the bar in Aunt Fanny’s Saloon, and with a 5,000 dollar reward for his head she couldn’t pass it up, so she set up outside waiting for her moment.

It just so happens that “her moment” is when sharpshooter scipio is ass-naked at the watering hole in the back.

“Look darlin’, I don’t know who you are, but I’m sure we can work something out.” he turns around with his cock pointed right at you

—

I mean talk about a loaded gun!

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

6 1/2 inches, and my word he is thick! no matter how many times you all have sex, you’ll feel a slight burn from the stretching and you love it. he’s more of a shower but he might stretch to a good 7-7 1/2 inches when he’s hard. and obviously it’s brown, with a nice mauve tip (uncut 👀)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

HIGH! when he’s with someone he really likes , he’s gonna fuck till he’s sore. he’s a physical touch demon, and needs to be on you at all times

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

as soon as you’re both cleaned up, he’s knocked out. oftentimes you all hop back into the bed once the sheets are changed and you cuddle up right next to him. with your nails lightly scratching at his beard and his arm wrapped around you Jacob can’t help but to fall asleep even if you’re still awake.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

jeez, this is just dirty (complimentary)

thank you for the request!

i’m still working through all of them, also trying to incorporate them into my other tropes for y’all.

also yall love a lil smut, so how do we feel about like a smut concept night sort of thing 👀

get all of your naughty thoughts out in one evening (or several)

lmk your thoughts and keep the requests coming pls!

xoxo

Bunni

[plutolovesyou]

doing ellie's makeup? I FEEL LIKE THAT'D BE SO CUTE TY

IMPORTANT. READ THIS FIRST 🇵🇸 AND CLICK HERE TO HELP, IT TAKES 10 SECONDS.

☆:this is adorable omg i <3 fluff. disclaimer: i know absolutely nothing about makeup lol but had fun writing thiss. also fuck ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THIS A LOT EARLIER THAN I MEANT TO. i wanna take this down to edit it some more, embellish it..but don't wish to lose the ask....tumblr lemme private crap when i've misclicked pls. no warnings, just fluff. except not proofread whoops.

doing ellie’s makeup.

a package had just arrived in the mail. you had previously ordered some new products, and were overjoyed about your purchases! needed to try them out, so you got an idea. she wasn't doing anything important right now….surely your artist girlfriend wouldn't mind being the canvas for a change?

“ellie, can I do your makeup??”

you sat down next to her sprawled out form on the couch, scrolling on her phone mindlessly as she shifted to the side to make space for you. she furrowed her eyebrows and didn't look up from her scrolling to murmur, “mmmmm…sure, why not.” you almost jumped for joy, she was going to look so pretty. ellie almost regretted allowing this, but seeing how happy you looked made her melt immediately. “okay wait here.” you went to gather your basket of products, so excited. she put her phone away and waited patiently for you to return. you returned and sat beside her, but that positioning wasn't allowing you to see properly. “lemme sit on you.” she continued laying down and you got on top of her to straddle her waist, laughing at her facial expressions. she wiggled her eyebrows and held onto your hips, thumbs making little circles, “i'm enjoying this.” she said, making your cheeks heat up the smallest touch. you lightly slapped her hands away, “oh shut up, i can't do this well if i'm not like, 3 inches from your face.” “alright, alright princess,” she said through a chuckle, dropping her arms by her sides. still smirking, proud of her jokes. “put this on.” you hand her a ridiculous looking headband, a pink one with a huge bow in the front, to put on to get her soft auburn hair out of her face, and she shoots you a look, but complies anyway. mischievously rubbing your hands together, you search for the base products to apply first. she watches curiously as you set up all the brushes and sponges to give her the makeover of a lifetime. you select one and show it to her, “i'll do this one, its light coverage because i don't wanna cover your freckles. i love them too much to do that.” she nods along, absorbing the information, her cheeks turning a light pink at the compliment. as you apply all the products to her face, she seems so relaxed. you’d honestly expected her to not be a fan, but it was lovely to see her closing her eyes, and just letting you paint her however you so pleased. it was a win/win situation, a sweet moment for both.

you went through most of the routine, and it was time for eye products. making sure to emphasize your point, “okay, stay veeeeery still.” she seemed so at peace, and nodded to say she heard you. you got closer to her, eyeliner pen in hand and as soon as you made contact with her delicate eyelid, her eye started twitching and she burst into giggles. “hey, that tickles.” “ellie stay still, i’ll poke your eye out, cmon, i’m almost done.” “i’m tryin baby.” steadying your drawing hand, and steadying her by holding onto her cheek, slowly but surely you do her eyeliner. it’s uneven and a little wonky because she couldn’t be as still as needed, but charming, if you do say so yourself. and the final step, you pick out your sparkliest lip gloss. as you were applying the finishing touches, she was watching your focus intently, watching your movements so intimately. “there, done.” you finish and lean away from her, inspecting your work. she almost looked like a different person, but the way you’d done it accentuated her features perfectly, and made her green eyes just pop. she looked stellar. lips plump and sparkly, cheeks wonderfully rosy, like a doll. you squealed, “you look so good!!” she batted her mascara covered eyelashes as she sat up closer to you, who’s still on her lap, and pressed a messy kiss to your lips, smearing her gloss everywhere. “ellieeee, wait i gotta fix it.” you fix her lips, holding onto her chin as you do so, and get up so she can visit a mirror to take a look. she gasped, “oh wow.” you watched as she posed and inspected her makeover in front of the mirror, fascinated. “wow, i don’t look like myself….but i kinda love it." she throws a toothy grin your way. “i’m glad, thanks for letting me els.” she kept inspecting and looking at herself, “y’know, the more i look at this the more i like it. you can practice on me more often if you want.” this made you so happy, she looks great as ever with whatever she decides to do with her appearance, and it was so much fun to do this for her.

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

This is my first time requesting a fic so I hope I'm doing it right! I have this cute idea for a hazbin hotel fic that could honestly go for anyone!(Id prefer Lucifer, alastor or vox tho!)

Something where the reader's sin was killing a goldfish, hamster or something small as a small child without knowing any better and that's why they are sent to hell. It takes forever for the reader to remember that it happened and realize that's the only thing they could be in hell for and brings back a bunch of guilt. Whoever it's with is like- really pissed at heaven for counting that as a sin because the reader is literally the sweetest person anyone knows and was just a kid and either comforts them or tries to do something about it??

A/N: I loved this so I decided to write this for all three of them!! I just loved this so much so I felt like it needed all of them if that makes sense. I hope you enjoy and I loved this concept so thank you so much for your request!! happy reading!!

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!

Alastor aka RADIO DEMON

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut—an old memory, long buried and forgotten, resurfacing with a sharp pang of guilt. You had been in Hell for what felt like an eternity, surrounded by the damned and the wicked, but you had never been able to recall what sin had condemned you to this place. You weren’t like the others. You didn’t have a trail of victims or a past stained with blood. You were kind, gentle, always trying to do right by others. And yet, here you were, trapped in this eternal torment.

The memory came back slowly, piece by piece, until it all fell into place. You had been so young, just a child, maybe four or five years old. The goldfish had been a gift from your parents, a small, delicate thing that had fascinated you. You’d watched it swim in its little bowl, entranced by its shimmering scales and the way it moved through the water with such grace.

But you were a child, curious and clumsy, and you didn’t understand the fragility of life. You remembered reaching into the bowl, wanting to hold the fish, to feel its smooth scales against your skin. But when you pulled it out of the water, it had flopped in your hands, struggling for breath. You didn’t understand what was happening, didn’t realize that you were hurting it. By the time you’d put it back in the water, it was too late. The fish had floated to the surface, still and lifeless.

You’d cried, of course, but you hadn’t understood the gravity of what you’d done. You were just a child. But now, as you stood in the depths of Hell, that memory filled you with a crushing guilt. Was that it? Was that the reason you had been sent here? For something so small, so innocent, done out of ignorance and childish curiosity?

As the weight of the memory settled on you, you felt a presence behind you. The air grew thick with a sense of unease, and you knew without turning around that Alastor, the Radio Demon, was there. He had taken an interest in you from the moment you arrived in Hell, though you could never quite figure out why. Maybe it was your innocence, your kindness, that intrigued him—qualities so rare in this place.

“Ah, my dear,” Alastor’s voice purred, smooth and dripping with a dark amusement. “What is it that troubles you? You look positively distraught.”

You turned to face him, your eyes wide and filled with a deep sorrow. “I remember… I remember why I’m here,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion.

Alastor raised an eyebrow, his smile never faltering but his crimson eyes narrowing slightly with curiosity. “Oh? And what, pray tell, is this dreadful sin that has condemned such a sweet, innocent soul to Hell?”

You hesitated, the words sticking in your throat. It seemed so ridiculous, so absurd now that you were about to say it out loud. But the guilt gnawed at you, and you couldn’t keep it in any longer. “When I was a child… I… I killed a goldfish,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t understand. But it died because of me.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, Alastor let out a soft, almost incredulous laugh. It wasn’t the cruel, mocking laugh you had expected, but something tinged with disbelief and anger—not at you, but at the situation.

“Is that it?” he asked, his tone sharp and incredulous. “That’s why you’re here? Because of some childhood mistake? A simple, innocent act of curiosity?”

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t know… but that’s the only thing I can think of. That has to be it.”

Alastor’s expression darkened, his usually jovial demeanor replaced by a cold, simmering anger. “Heaven,” he spat, the word laced with venom. “What hypocrites. To send a child to Hell for something so trivial, so insignificant, is beyond cruel. It’s unjust.”

You looked at him, surprised by the intensity of his reaction. “But… but it was still wrong,” you said softly, the guilt still gnawing at you. “I took a life, even if it was just a goldfish. Maybe I deserve to be here.”

Alastor shook his head, his eyes flashing with a dangerous light. “No, my dear, you do not deserve this. You were just a child, and children are not held accountable for their innocent mistakes. You were condemned unfairly, and it infuriates me to see someone as pure as you suffer because of it.”

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently tilt your chin up so that you were looking into his eyes. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice low and firm. “You are not like the others here. You do not belong in this wretched place. If I could, I would march up to Heaven myself and demand that they right this wrong, that they acknowledge the cruelty of their judgment.”

You stared at him, shocked by the passion in his voice, the anger in his eyes. You had always seen Alastor as a being of pure malice, a demon who took pleasure in the suffering of others. But now, in this moment, he was different. He was angry for you, on your behalf, and it stirred something deep within you.

“Alastor…” you whispered, your voice breaking.

He sighed, his expression softening slightly as he looked at you. “But alas, there is little I can do to change your fate. The rules of Heaven and Hell are not easily bent, even by one as powerful as I. However,” he added, his voice taking on a softer, almost tender tone, “I can offer you something else. Comfort, companionship… protection. You may be in Hell, my dear, but I will not allow you to suffer alone.”

The offer took you by surprise, and you found yourself staring up at him, unsure of what to say. Alastor, the Radio Demon, offering comfort and companionship? It seemed almost too surreal to believe. And yet, there was something in his eyes, something genuine that made you believe he meant every word.

You nodded slowly, a tear slipping down your cheek. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

Alastor smiled, a smile that was still tinged with that ever-present darkness, but also with something warmer, something almost… kind. “You don’t need to say anything, my dear. Just know that you are not alone. Not anymore.”

With that, he pulled you into an embrace, his arms surprisingly gentle as they wrapped around you. You leaned into him, the weight of your guilt and sorrow easing just a little as you allowed yourself to be comforted. It wasn’t much, but it was enough—for now. And maybe, just maybe, with Alastor by your side, you could find a way to live with the past and the unjust fate that had brought you here.

Vox aka HEAD OF VOX TECH

You had never really understood why you were condemned to Hell. Unlike the many souls writhing in the pit, you didn’t have a string of atrocities trailing behind you. You didn’t murder, cheat, or betray. In fact, in your mortal life, you were known for being kind, caring, and overly cautious. And yet, here you were, suffering in Hell without a clue as to what had brought you here.

At first, you tried to remember, to piece together what might have happened, but every time you searched your memories, you came up empty. The only thing that ever came to mind was a stupid, childish incident—one that surely couldn’t be the reason for your damnation.

You’d been about eight years old, with a love for all things small and furry. That’s when you got your first pet, a little hamster you named Buttons. You adored Buttons, carrying him around in your hands, giving him treats, and petting his soft fur. But one day, while playing, you squeezed him a little too hard. You hadn’t meant to. You were just a child, after all, but that didn’t change what happened. Buttons stopped moving, his little body going limp in your hands. You cried for hours, not understanding what you had done, only knowing that your beloved pet was gone and that you were to blame.

You’d buried the memory, convincing yourself it was just a mistake, a tragic accident that any child might have made. But here, in Hell, it was the only thing you could think of. Could that really be it? Could you really have been damned for something so small, so innocent?

It was a thought that haunted you, gnawed at your insides until you couldn’t take it anymore. You found yourself wandering through the dark, twisted corridors of Hell, your mind lost in a storm of guilt and confusion. That’s when you felt it—eyes on you, watching, observing. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

Vox had taken an interest in you almost immediately after your arrival in Hell. It wasn’t unusual for him to be intrigued by someone new, but there was something about you that kept pulling him back. You were different from the others—gentle, kind, and most of all, innocent. That kind of innocence was a rare commodity in Hell, and Vox was drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

“Lost in thought again, aren’t we?” Vox’s voice crackled through the air, distorted slightly by the static that always seemed to surround him.

You froze, your heart skipping a beat at the sound of his voice. It wasn’t that you were afraid of him, exactly, but Vox was intimidating in a way that words couldn’t quite capture. He was larger than life, a presence that seemed to fill the room, even when he wasn’t physically there.

“I…” you started, your voice trembling slightly as you turned to face him. “I just can’t stop thinking about it. About why I’m here. I can’t remember doing anything that would deserve… this.”

Vox’s neon-lit face twisted into a smirk, though there was something darker lurking behind his glowing eyes. He tilted his head, his massive form leaning casually against a nearby wall as he continued to watch you. “You’re in Hell, darling. Everyone’s here for a reason.”

You swallowed hard, your mind racing as you tried to find the words to explain. “But that’s just it. I don’t have a reason. At least, not one that makes sense. The only thing I can think of… it’s ridiculous.”

Vox’s eyes narrowed slightly, his curiosity piqued. “Oh? Do tell. I’m all ears.”

You hesitated, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment as you forced yourself to speak. “When I was a kid… I had a hamster. I didn’t mean to hurt him, but I squeezed him too hard, and… and he died.” Your voice cracked as the memory resurfaced, filling you with a wave of guilt and shame. “That’s the only thing I can think of. I was just a kid, but what if that’s why I’m here? What if that’s what sent me to Hell?”

For a moment, Vox was silent, his glowing eyes fixed on you as if he were trying to process what you’d just said. Then, he let out a harsh, distorted laugh, his voice crackling with a mix of amusement and anger. “That’s it? That’s what you think got you sent to Hell? A childhood mistake? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You flinched at his laughter, feeling small and foolish under his gaze. “I know it sounds stupid,” you mumbled, looking down at the ground. “But I can’t think of anything else. Maybe Heaven saw it as some kind of cruelty or—”

“Bullshit,” Vox cut you off, his voice sharp and electric. He pushed off the wall, striding over to you with an intensity that made your heart race. “That’s not cruelty. That’s a mistake. A kid not knowing any better. If that’s really why you’re here, then Heaven is more fucked up than I thought.”

You looked up at him, surprise flickering in your eyes. You’d never heard him speak like this before—so angry, so protective. “But… what if that’s all it takes?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. “What if that’s enough to damn someone?”

Vox’s eyes blazed with a fierce light, his hand reaching out to grab your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Listen to me, sweetheart,” he growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “You don’t belong here. You’re not like the rest of these damned souls. You’re… different. Innocent. And if some bullshit technicality is what sent you here, then Heaven’s got a lot to answer for.”

You stared up at him, your heart pounding in your chest as his words sank in. He was right—deep down, you knew he was right. You didn’t belong in Hell. But the guilt, the overwhelming sense of responsibility for that long-ago mistake, was hard to shake.

“I don’t know what to do,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I can’t change the past, and I can’t go back. I’m stuck here, no matter what.”

Vox’s grip on your chin softened, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. “Maybe you can’t go back, but that doesn’t mean you have to suffer for it. You’re in Hell, yeah, but that doesn’t mean you have to be miserable. You’ve got me, don’t you?” His voice dropped to a lower, almost seductive tone as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “I’ll take care of you, sweetheart. I’ll make sure this place doesn’t break you.”

A shiver ran down your spine at his words, his proximity making your head spin. Despite the fearsome reputation he had, there was something about the way he spoke, the way he looked at you, that made you feel… safe. Like he really meant it when he said he would protect you.

“But what about Heaven?” you asked, your voice small and unsure. “What if they’re watching? What if they… try to punish me again?”

Vox’s eyes flashed with anger, his grip on you tightening slightly. “Let them try,” he hissed, his voice dripping with venom. “I’d like to see them come down here and explain themselves. If Heaven wants to play dirty, they’ll have to go through me first.”

You stared at him, stunned by the intensity of his words. No one had ever stood up for you like this before, especially not against something as powerful as Heaven itself. It was overwhelming, and yet… comforting. Maybe you couldn’t change the past, but with Vox by your side, maybe you could find a way to live with it.

Slowly, you nodded, a small, tentative smile forming on your lips. “Thank you, Vox. I… I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Vox’s expression softened, his hand moving to cup your cheek as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your forehead in a surprisingly tender gesture. “You don’t have to worry about that, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me now.”

As you closed your eyes, leaning into his touch, you felt a sense of relief wash over you. The guilt was still there, but it was tempered by the knowledge that you weren’t alone. Vox was with you, and he was determined to protect you, no matter what. Maybe Hell wasn’t where you belonged, but as long as you had him by your side, you knew you’d find a way to make it through.

Lucifer aka THE KING OF HELL

You sat in Lucifer’s grand office, your fingers anxiously twisting in your lap as your thoughts swirled in confusion. You had been in Hell for a while now, and yet the reason for your damnation still eluded you. It was maddening, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t pinpoint the sin that had condemned you to this fiery realm.

Lucifer watched you closely from behind his lavish desk, his sharp eyes catching every slight movement you made. He had always found you to be an enigma—so sweet, so innocent, and yet, here you were in the depths of Hell. It didn’t make sense, and that bothered him more than he cared to admit.

“Love,” Lucifer’s voice was smooth, like silk brushing against your skin, “I can practically hear the gears turning in that pretty head of yours. What troubles you so?”

You glanced up at him, your eyes reflecting the turmoil within. “I just don’t understand, Lucifer. I’ve been thinking and thinking, and I still can’t figure out what I did to end up here. It’s like… it doesn’t add up.”

Lucifer leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he studied you. “Not all sins are remembered easily,” he mused, his tone contemplative. “Some are buried deep within, forgotten or dismissed, but still weighed heavily by those who pass judgment.”

“But that’s just it,” you insisted, your voice trembling slightly. “I’ve searched through every memory, every mistake, and nothing seems big enough, bad enough, to have damned me. I was never… evil. At least, I don’t think I was.”

A slight frown tugged at Lucifer’s lips, a rare expression of displeasure crossing his usually calm demeanor. “Tell me, my love, what are the memories that you have found? The ones you believe to be insignificant?”

You hesitated, biting your lip as you gathered the courage to speak. “There’s this one thing… I was just a kid. I didn’t know any better. I had a best friend, and we were inseparable. But one day, I got jealous—stupid, childish jealousy—and I told a lie that got them in trouble. They were punished for something they didn’t do, and I never confessed. I was too scared.”

Lucifer’s gaze softened slightly as he listened, though his eyes gleamed with something darker—resentment, perhaps, but not directed at you. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk as he fixed you with an intense stare. “And you believe that is the reason you’re here? A child’s lie?”

You nodded slowly, your heart heavy with guilt. “I know it doesn’t seem like much, but… what if that’s it? What if that’s the one thing that damned me?”

A low chuckle escaped Lucifer, his voice rich with amusement, though there was an underlying edge to it. “My love, if Heaven condemns souls to Hell for such trivialities, then they are more twisted than even I had thought.” His smile turned cold, a bitterness seeping into his tone. “It seems they are as quick to punish as they are to pretend their hands are clean.”

You looked at him, confusion and a flicker of hope warring within you. “But… what if they’re right? What if that lie was enough?”

Lucifer stood, his presence towering over you as he moved around the desk to stand by your side. He reached out, gently lifting your chin so that you were forced to look up at him. His touch was surprisingly tender, a stark contrast to the power and authority he radiated.

“They are not right,” he said firmly, his eyes boring into yours. “You were a child. A child who made a mistake. That is not evil, nor is it worthy of damnation. You do not belong here for something so minor, so human.”

His words washed over you like a balm, easing the knot of anxiety that had taken root in your chest. “Then why am I here?” you whispered, your voice filled with desperation. “What could I have done?”

Lucifer’s expression softened, and he let out a sigh, his hand moving to cup your cheek. “The truth, my love, is that sometimes the reasons for being here are not fair. Sometimes, they are born of Heaven’s need to appear just, even when they are far from it. You may be here because of a mistake, but that does not mean you deserve to suffer.”

You leaned into his touch, finding comfort in his words, even as they stirred a deep sadness within you. “It doesn’t feel fair,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I feel like I’ve been punished for something I didn’t even understand.”

Lucifer’s eyes flashed with anger, though it was clear his ire was not directed at you. “It is not fair,” he agreed, his tone laced with resentment. “Heaven is quick to cast out those who do not fit their mold, regardless of whether they deserve it. They hide behind their righteousness, but in truth, they are no less flawed than the souls they condemn.”

You looked up at him, your heart aching at the pain and anger in his voice. “You… you sound like you’ve experienced this before. Like you’ve seen how unfair it can be.”

Lucifer’s gaze darkened, his lips curling into a bitter smile. “I have seen it many times, love. More than you can imagine. Heaven is not the paradise they would have you believe. It is a place of judgment, of exclusion, and for those who do not conform, it is a place of damnation.”

He paused, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin. “But you do not have to face this alone. You have me, and I will ensure that Hell is not the torment they intended for you. You will find peace here, with me.”

Your breath hitched as his words sunk in, the weight of your situation lightening just a little under his promise. “Thank you, Lucifer,” you murmured, your voice trembling with emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Lucifer’s expression softened further, and for a moment, the cold, calculating ruler of Hell was replaced by someone almost… human. “You will never have to find out,” he whispered, his voice tender as he closed the distance between you, his lips brushing gently against yours.

The kiss was soft, almost hesitant, as if he were afraid of breaking you with the intensity of his emotions. But there was a warmth there, a reassurance that you weren’t alone, that you were safe with him. As he pulled back, his eyes met yours, and you could see the depth of his feelings—his resentment toward Heaven, his protectiveness over you, and something else, something deeper that he kept hidden behind his regal facade.

“Rest now, my love,” Lucifer murmured, his hand lingering on your cheek as he straightened up. “You have been through enough. Let me shoulder the burden of your past. You belong here with me, and I will not allow Heaven’s judgment to take you from me.”

You nodded, a sense of calm settling over you as you allowed yourself to trust in his words. For the first time since you arrived in Hell, you felt like you weren’t alone, like you had someone who truly understood the injustice of your situation. And as you looked up at Lucifer, you knew that, despite everything, you were exactly where you were meant to be.

[gffa]

So, I fucking loved The Living Force, I found it to be one of the most Jedi-positive books out there, and look I can't guarantee you that you'll feel the same way, this book only gets the Lumi stamp of approval, not the "you'll definitely love this as a fan of the Jedi" stamp of approval, so take that as you will. But this book took such care to give the Jedi Council members different fun personalities, that even when Saesee was a total grump, he was a funny grump and one who clearly dove right into helping people, that even when it was Qui-Gon who issued the challenge, the book showed it as an excuse for the Jedi Council members to take some time off to go do what they were choosing to do, that their good acts were their own, not Qui-Gon's. This book took such care to give moments to the Jedi discussing why they put their efforts where they did and showed that they all loved helping people, none of them felt this was beneath them for a moment, only that they felt they could help more people by doing their regular Council duties most of the time. The discussions they had weren't about castigating themselves, but about discussing where their balance should be, that their work as a Council was always seen as necessary, that they very much did need to look towards the future, but that they as individual Jedi sometimes needed a reason to do something more individual. Because of that good-faith feeling in the narrative, other things also came off really good-naturedly, like Ki-Adi-Mundi often was stilted or just did not understand the point of some of this ridiculousness, but he was never painted as uncaring, but instead very much came off to me like he was on the spectrum and that that was fine, it was part of the feeling of how each of these characters is allowed a different personality and allowed to see duty and the Force and their lives differently, that there was emphasis put on how the Council prized those differences because it helped make them stronger.

And the author clearly had an absolute blast writing Yarael and Even Piell especially, they were hilariously fun and there is SO MUCH FUNNY BANTER, like there's so much friendly teasing between characters, there's so many little moments that show these people care about each other and have fun with each other, that there's no doubt that this Council is full of life and light. I also really enjoyed Mace and Depa's dynamic, that it's clear he cared about her and still worried about her, but he trusted her to take care of herself, that Depa's part of the storyline was a bit more subdued in a lot of ways, but she was thoroughly competent and trusted to understand what she was getting into. Mace does fuss over her a bit in the end, but she's strong enough to stand up for herself and he takes it in stride because she's a Jedi Master now and knows what she's doing, that she's trusted to be right about what's going on and how this should be handled, as well as her deep care for the people she gets involved with around her.

The only real heads up I would give (other than to caution that the opening chapters might make you side-eye a bit, but I ask a little patience with the book) is that it's in a specific worldbuilding genre, that it's not really about the spiritual aspect of the Jedi Order worldbuilding, but instead more about administrative worldbuilding and the action plot. But if you're into that (and I was so into that because I love worldbuilding detail!) and into the Jedi Council being hilarious and getting time to basically take a vacation, then I hope you'll enjoy this book with me, too. I know what the interview from the author said, but honestly I felt none of that with the book, it felt like a story that really understood the increasing complexity of the galaxy around them and that there weren't any easy answers, that the future does matter, even if so too does the present, that what the Council does as a Council is vital to the good work the Jedi Order does, but that this provides them with the breathing space to balance it with their own individual ways of being a Jedi, which is simply giving them some breathing room and letting them flourish on their own!

[kishibe-kisser]

"I like to think Yuji is ours in another life." Your words were soft and gentle, speaking so quiet almost in fear that Nanami heard it. It had been plaguing your mind since you had met the boy, how he sparked that parental instinct in you both. However the last few weeks it was all you could think about when him and Nanami were out on a job.

You felt relief thinking the boy had someone like Nanami to look up to and that Nanami had someone to dote on. They both deserved it, the happiness of a family. Yuji only had his grandfather growing up and Nanami yearned for nothing more than a family. It was only natural that when you packed and extra lunch for Yuji that the thoughts crossed your mind.

You watched Nanami shift, turning his head on your chest to look at you. He looked tired, with slight bags under his eyes. The stress was from work, not Yuji. If anything the boy made him feel younger again... he reminded him so much of Haibara.

"They're all just kids. They need someone looking out for them." He replied shortly... wrapping his arms around you tightly, feeling the sheets around you shift. You mussed your fingers through his unstyled hair, nodding in agreement. "And Yuji..." He trailed off, his eyes looking past you rather than at you. He didn't like talking about him much, out of anger and out of sadness for the boy's inevitable fate. It upset the sorcerer more than he wanted to admit. He loved and hated the boy's sunny disposition despite it all.

"He's a kid, put into a position where he can't be one." You trailed your fingers over the lines on his face, sighing at his words. He too was just a kid once, him, Gojo, Geto... Haibara, all just kids in unfortunate positions. You would have been lying if you said you hadn't shed a tear thinking about the things Nanami had went through, the things he had shared at least. It was clear the topic of Yuji struck him deeply.

"It's silly of me, I know. But I sometimes imagine what he was like when he was a child." You smiled, trying to make the conversation lighter. "Boys like him are always such a handful as kids. So curious." You added on and Nanami stifled a laugh. "I imagine with Yuji's personality. He definitely got into trouble." Nanami surprised you, not thinking he would indulge this fantasy of yours. He tended to be the realist between the both of you, but even a realist needs to dream every now and again.

"He probably got into everything he wasn't supposed to because he still does." He laughed and you felt a weight sit on your stomach. It was a combination of joy and sorrow for both Nanami and Yuji. "It's good to dream." Nanami said, taking note of your sudden somber expression. His hands finding your face to wipe away tears you didn't even know had slipped.

"It is." You agreed and released a shaky breath. He never realized quite how much you had thought about this or how much he had. "He's a good kid..." You laughed, shaking off how ridiculous you were being and wiping the tears away. "He is." His laugh was sympathetic, maybe towards you or maybe towards Yuji, maybe even to himself. "You're working together again tomorrow right? I'll pack him a lunch too." You said, feigning a smile as Nanami stroked your hair.

It was indeed good to dream and for kids to be kids, he'd protect them to the best of his abilities. For their sake and the sake of himself, because he too was young once.

A/N: I'll get over Nanami soon (no i won't) and I'll write less for him (no I won't) eventually. No but seriously I'll write something else soon, it's just that this is stuck in my head so it's easy to put down on paper. I don't have time lately to write alot because it's exam season the next weeks. But after that! I will try my best to update my lists!

[gigglesandfreckles-hp]

I just found your page and stalked all your writing lol, it’s absolutely amazing and I’m highly obsessed now!! from the prompt list for jily: “What are we?” + “I would like us to be more than friends.” (Head students era confession?)

oh you mean my favourite jily era??? my pleasure! ps uhhh pls don't count the words on this one

from this prompt list

James has thought about the moment at least once an hour, every day, for about two months now. Putting it into perspective like that makes him come face-to-face with the fact that he’s even more ridiculous than he’s usually comfortable admitting. 

And James has always known he’s ridiculous.

The conversation plays out a million different ways in his head, like a lucid dream he can only sort of control and only up until a certain point because it’s Lily, and he stopped trying to predict her next move long ago.

It’s why she always beats him at chess. He knows her—really knows her, not like he used to think he did—but he’ll never be able to anticipate what she’ll say or do. Full of surprises, she is.

Somehow, though—his brain, in the infinite possibilities it’s constructed, failed to think of even one situation in which she would be the one asking him.

“What are we?” she asks, sitting on the bench next to him outside Scrivenshaft’s, her thermos of tea warming her hands. She's wrapped in her Gryffindor scarf with a green knit cap pulled down over her ears, auburn curls spilling out and flying around with each heavy gust of the biting January wind. She's perfect and he just—

Stares at her.

“Okay,” she says, laughing, then takes a long sip of her tea, her gaze shifting to the empty street in front of them. It’s still early, so most of the Hogsmeade crowd is either having a lie-in or getting breakfast at the Three Broomsticks.

James and Lily got out of the castle as quickly as they could in order to make the most of their day. Day, not date, because they’re friends. Sort of. Most of the time. Except for when she flirts with him and he flirts back and that one time last week when he’s almost positive she was going to kiss him and that other time last week he is positive he was going to kiss her. And all the other moments that makes him absolutely lose his head.

“Never mind,” she says, and she’s bloody smiling. “I thought we…” Another slow, agonising sip. “Never mind.”

James feels the panic set in, just like when they play chess. It’s his move, he knows it’s his move, but which way can knights move, and how many spaces can bishops take, and—

“You’re freaking out,” she observes casually. He doesn’t know when she looked back at him.

“What?” he manages, the word sounding squeaky.

She might smile again, then. He can’t be sure, because she’s lifted the thermos back up to her lips.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I thought you were ready.” She tilts her head, studying him. “I’ve been trying to pick a good moment, you know. To talk about this. But…” She shrugs. “Guess I was wrong.” She caps her thermos of tea and stands from the bench then, looking down at him. “Wanna go to Honeyduke’s?”

“Do I want to—” He shakes his head, blinking rapidly, then looks up at her, sharply. “Huh?”

Lily laughs softly. “It’s almost ten,” she says, like this was the root of his confusion. “We can be first to the Pick ‘N Mix for once.”

She’s talking about candy. She’s just asked him to define their entire complicated relationship and then—without waiting even a moment for him to catch his breath—started talking about candy.

“Can you…” He frowns, struggling to find his words. (Struggling to remember how to breathe.) “Sit down…please,” he finally manages.

Thankfully, she doesn’t argue, settling back down on the bench beside him. He certainly doesn’t have the wherewithal to match wits with her right now if she chooses to be stubborn.

“I need a…a minute.”

“Okay,” she says, and pops the lid back off her thermos, gracefully pouring herself another shallow cup of tea. “You know,” she says, conversationally, “this works loads better than a heating charm. Marlene says I’m mad for lugging it all about Hogsmeade, but how else can I secure an infinite amount of tea to get me through the day? We don’t have a spell for that yet, do we?”

“Are you—” He breaks off and turns toward her on the bench. “Are you enjoying this?”

Her lips twitch up into a small smile. “Perhaps a little.”

He shuts his eyes tight and groans.

“I intend to be your girlfriend by the time we graduate, Potter,” she says, and he doesn’t know when she’s leaned toward him, but he can smell the peppermint tea on her breath and feel it tickle the hair near his ears. The bench creaks as she moves back away from him, taking his heart with her. “We’ve got, oh—” A pause. “Six more months. I’m not in a hurry.”

Not in a hurry. What the hell is wrong with him? He’s been waiting for this for six years. Well, perhaps that’s a bit dramatic, but—this calls for being dramatic! She’s just admitted to wanting to be his girlfriend—his girlfriend!—and he’s fumbling the Quaffle so bad he’s about to be benched. 

He can’t let this moment pass by without saying something.

“Girlfriend!” he blurts out

“Is that—” Her grin grows, even as her cheeks flush pink. “Was that an offer, or are you auditioning for the role of a caveman in a play I didn’t know Hogwarts was putting on?”

James wants to pull his hair out of his head. He wants to pull it out of his head and make a nest, so he can hide forever, like those bald little baby eagles he saw with his parents on the coast last summer.

“No, I want to—let’s talk.”

She sets the thermos on the bench between them and lifts up her hands, counting her fingers one at a time as her lips move wordlessly. “Wow. Six words.”

“Lily, can—you…”

“Okay, okay,” she says, with a giggle. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop taking the piss, I swear. Let’s talk.” Folding her hands in her lap, she looks at him expectantly. “Do you want to go first, or should I?”

He gives her a significant look, making her laugh again, but she nods.

“Alright,” she begins, “well I don’t have much to say, really.” She shrugs, her legs dangling back and forth over the bench, just shy of touching the snowy ground. “I like spending time with you. I think you’re ridiculously fit. You’re a good person and—I really want to be able to kiss you without wondering if it’ll ruin everything.”

James has always found most Muggle swears to be rather lacking in oomph, but now—

Jesus fucking Christ.

“Oh,” he says.

“So, Potter,” she drawls, nudging his shin with her foot, “what are we?”

“I would—” he starts, then pauses, clearing his throat and sitting up straighter. “I would…like us to be more than friends.”

“Oh,” she echoes, her foot hooking behind his on the ground in front of them.

“Lily.”

“Hm?”

“I’ve had a—a whole speech ready. For weeks.” he confesses. “But right now, my brain is…cold, I think. So I don’t want you to take my lack of…words…as a lack of enthusiasm. I’m…very enthused.”

Lily looks at him, jade eyes blazing. “Will I get to hear the speech in the near future?”

“Do you…want to?”

“I want to hear anything you have to say, Potter,” she says simply.

“Are you sure because—”

“Yes,” she replies, moving closer. Her wind-chapped lips stop a breath away from his. “What are we, James?”

He inhales deeply and doesn’t think again before murmuring, “Everything,” and closing the gap between them.

[slutforleeminho]

Hiiii just wanted to know if you could make a oneshot of you being the 9th member and having cramps during practice and Bangchan and Lee Know comfort you (sorry I'm a sucker for them they are my bias😩) Thank you so much I love your writing. I just followed you and will be waiting. Though if you don't want to write it, It's completely fine. Oh and sorry for such a long note! 😅 Sorry for any mistakes English is not my first language.🫶

this is super short but i hope you like it🫶🏻

“shit!” you dropped to the floor, tripping for the third time tonight. your knees and elbows are bruised from attempting to catch yourself each time. but this time your reflexes didn’t kick in and full on belly flopped against the hard ground. you couldn’t keep the tears at bay anymore, curling into the fetal position and sobbing.

all eight boys rushed to circle around you, eyes wide and full of concern. you’ve only cried like this in front of them a handful of times but that was mainly when you were on tour and extremely overwhelmed. never during dance practice.

“i’m okay, i promise.” once the pain subsided a bit you sat up and explained to them that it was just really bad cramps and that the last fall hit you right in the gut.

jisung brought you a bottle of water and some medicine and kissed you on the top of your head before leaving. the rest of the members either gave you a hug (not too tight though) or squeezed your shoulder as to show you that they cared, and then they all left.

well, except for minho and chan.

you looked at them confused as the members filtered out of the room. “i’m okay, you can go back to the dorms. i just need a minute for the medicine to kick in.” you smiled at them.

“i’ll wait with you, can’t have you getting kidnapped walking back in the dark all by yourself.” bangchan said while sitting on the ground behind you, outstretching his legs on either sides of yours. you were about to question him about it until he placed his hands on your shoulders and started kneading your sore muscles. your head fell forward as you felt immediate relief, sighing in contentment.

“yeah, we can’t just leave you here in pain.” minho said, sitting directly in front of you.

“i’m not a baby, min, i can take care of myself.” the exhaustion started to kick in as chan was easing all the tension from your upper back. you started to lean back against him without realizing it and soon you were completely surrounded by his chest and arms, his warmth radiating off of him making you all the more comfortable.

“you don’t seem to be complaining now” chan snickered. you snapped your eyes open and tried to break free from his hold, in which you failed from being to weak, or at least that’s what you tell yourself. “oh, stop being stubborn and rest for a minute.”

you gave in and relaxed into him again, this time sliding down until only your head was in his lap, using his thigh as a pillow. you closed your eyes as a yawn escaped from you, feeling a hand wrapped around your ankle you opened them to see minho maneuvering up onto his knees and taking both your ankles into his hands. “what are you doing, minho?”

“i heard this helps with cramps.” he says as he confidently folds you legs forward and against your abdomen, not too hard but just enough to cause a little bit of tightness in your lower stomach. it hurts. and you’re about to tell him so until he pulls them back towards him, the tightness releases and it felt so relieving. you probably looked ridiculous, the way he was stretching your legs like you were in fact a baby.

“did it help?” his eyes wide like a curious cat.

“yeah, it actually did.” you rolled your eyes and he laughed cause of your annoyance. he continued moving your legs back and forth, putting pressure on your stomach and then pulling back once more. “i appreciate you both staying with me,” you began. “it means the world to me to know i have people who sincerely care about me and care for me. i’ve never had that with anyone, and it’s actually really nice.”

minho sat your legs back on the ground. “we’ll never leave you, y/n, okay? you’re stuck with us until the day we all die, and even then i’m sure i’ll find you in the afterlife to aggravate you some more.” he gave you a wide smile, giving you a full view of his bunny teeth.

“yeah, if we don’t make your life equally miserable and fun, who will?” chan poked your cheek. you giggled and just smiled the widest you have in a long time.

“i wouldn’t want it to be anyone else.”

“awww you do love us!” minho squealed.

“oh, shut up!” you kicked him in the shoulder blade, not hard enough to hurt him but enough to push him on his back. he still acted as though he’d been shot nonetheless. “you’re so dramatic.”

as all your laughing died down another yawn came from you, which made chris yawn too. “has the medicine kicked in yet?” minho asked sitting back up.

you tested it by pushing yourself up and standing to your feet. “yeah i feel pretty good actually.”

“good.” was all you heard from behind you before chan was lifting you up bridal style.

“what are you doing?!?!” you screamed, wrapping your hand around his neck, scared he might drop you. “chris, i can walk, i’m not helpless.”

“oh, shut up and let’s go home.” minho whined.

you couldn’t argue with that.

i wasn’t sure if you wanted smut or not, so if you want an alternate ending let me know:)

taglist: @caitlyn98s @bangchansbae @fawnpeaks @yumiblogs @katsukiswife @seung-mine @sungprotector @soephiphanymain @z4ir3 @minnieslover @kjr-army @extrhotjne

[jflemings]

PROMPT 18 JFLEM

— out of the woods

prompt: 18 “i’m setting you free” from this post

a/n: i had this fic almost done and then tumblr deleted all of it and i waited too long to re write it so here’s a way more angsty version 🙂 also y’all can thank @pixiesfz for the angst. its jail time for the absolutely CRIMINAL jess angst that was posted xx

“you’re being ridiculous!”

“i’m being ridiculous? jesus christ jessie, you never even brought up the fact that you were thinking about moving to another fucking continent until you accepted the offer!” you exclaim loudly, anger simmering in your chest as you follow her into her bedroom.

you two had been going at it for the past hour and you were quickly running out of patience. she had brought up the topic of leaving chelsea a little while ago but you didn’t anticipate her moving to a whole different league, especially when the two of you seemed to be settling down.

“i didn’t think it would matter!” she says defensively, turning on her heel to face you “you were all for it when i brought it up before”

you scoff loudly “yeah, all for you moving to a different club in the wsl! jess how could you not bring this up with me?”

the canadian turns her back on you once again as she opens up her closet to grab some shirts she knows she won’t be wearing. she practically rips them off their hangers and carelessly throws them onto her bed “i didn’t think i needed to. it’s my future”

you’re taken aback by her justification. she’s right, it is her future, but considering the conversations the two of you have been having since the world cup you had assumed that you would be included in it, or at the very least spoken to about it.

the two of you had talked about moving in together and even gone as far as looking at places that were within your budget, so for her to suddenly drop the news that she was moving to the nwsl was coming from nowhere. or so you thought.

“how long had you been thinking about this?” you ask sternly

the midfielder sighs and throws another shirt onto her bed “since november”

your stomach drops and betrayal quickly puts out the flame of anger flicking within you. your brow furrows and your hands drop in defeat “november?” you question quietly “i was looking at places for us to live and you were thinking about leaving?!”

“it’s the best thing for my career!” she continues to argue as she turns around with her arms thrown out wide “it’s not a personal thing, y/n”

“what about the best thing for us” you ask bitterly “what about our future” your words are coated in venom as you speak to her, the hope of this turning into a civil conversation being thrown out the window.

she looks at you with a blank look on her face, the silence suddenly deafening you as the two of you stand just staring at eachother. the longer she takes to answer, the more sick you feel. you’ve always encouraged jessie to put herself first, always told her to follow her heart, but it seems like you had been stupid to assume that whatever road she took would always lead back to you. in your head, the future of your relationship was well and truely concrete: you’d move in together, get married, maybe have a kid or two and end up loving eachother for the rest of your time on earth.

jessie shuts her eyes tightly just as you feel your own well up with tears.

you had been wrong and she was proving it to you right now.

“right” you laugh bitterly, digging around in your purse for a polaroid photo that you carried everywhere. it was of the two of you sharing a drunk kiss at zećira’s for her birthday last year. sam had walked up to you with a polaroid camera mid-kiss and captured the alcohol fueled pda with a loud laugh. jessie had pulled away from you in a daze, her cheeks flushed and eyes glazed over without a care in the world that she had been caught on film in what she would call a compromising position.

you threw the photo onto her bed on top of the numerous shirts “since you’re packing up your life and throwing things away that you aren’t going to be needing you can take that. i don’t want it anymore” you say quietly, malice and hurt present in your tone.

jessie’s eyes widen as you turn on your heel “what are you doing”

“i’m setting you free” you say as you approach her bedroom door for the last time “hope portland has everything that london can’t give you”

[alexanderwales]

Pitchposting: Generation Ship

(Pitchposting is a way of giving away ideas that threaten to grow in my mind until they become draft documents. They are free to a good home, though there's no guarantee that I won't try to write them at some point.)

Alright, hear me out: it's a generation ship, one expected to reach its destination with an entirely new generation of people who never knew the homeland, except instead of being a scifi concept, we're doing it as mundane as possible.

I think this is one of those ideas that only appeals to me because I immediately start thinking about the logistics of it all, and there's something in the mundane, gritty realism that really appeals to me. Mostly I'm worldbuilding and problem solving, trying to get at what it would actually be like for people to have been at sea their entire lives, to have a ship that either needs to endure the waves or be rebuilt as it goes.

I was going to say that this needs to be fantasy, but I guess technically it can be an Alderson Disk or something. An Alderson Disk has a habitable circumference of approximately a billion kilometers, a sailing ship can go maybe eighty miles a day, that's a ballpark of 12.5 million days to circumnavigate the disk, which is 34,000 years. That's a hell of a lot of generations, twice as long as we've had agriculture. (But you could also just have it be a fantasy world that's larger than our own, with a generation ship that was only trying to flee to greener pastures that are a hundred years away.)

The purest version of this story is a world that's just water, to match the void of space. The ship sails, repairs are made from flotsam and jetsam and driftwood from unspecified places, rainwater is caught and put into barrels, pitch is used for patching, fish and kelp are hauled up from the ocean, birds are captured from the sky, and the ship must necessarily endure storms and swells.

I've always felt there was something compelling about constrained living situations, places where everyone knows everyone and you have to make it work because there's absolutely no way out — where you're on a knife's edge because there's only so much preparation you can do. A generation ship needs to think about absolutely all of its needs and how it will deal with the deterioration of all things over time, along with problems that might only crop up once every hundred years, or problems that won't become apparent until long after the ship has left the dock.

Let's say you have a sailing ship the size of one of the largest sailing vessels of the 19th century, a thousand people all told. The families are carefully braided to prevent accidental incest, everyone has their position in life, every master has at least one apprentice but probably more so gout or cancer don't eliminate the last person who knew how to make more pitch.

This is clearly an Idea story, one that starts with a ridiculous premise and then explores it, but one of my favorite things about idea stories is finding the characters and the conflicts within them. For a generation ship, the biggest, most obvious conflict is the conflict between generations: the old people who once knew dry land, the middle generation who will likely die before the destination is reached, and the children who will be the beneficiaries of all this travel.

We have a woman who was born to the sea, who loves the sea, who loves the travel and takes great joy in knowing that she's probably not going to see the end of it until she's ancient. We have the grizzled sailor who's nearly risen to the rank of captain and sees the whole mission as utter foolishness. A boy of thirteen who is obsessed with writing stories about the land they've set off toward and keeps his telescope on the horizon, hoping that the predictions were off, that they're somehow two decades early. A girl of sixteen who doesn't feel suited to the marriage that's planned for her, who is secretly in love with her best friend. A scientist who has been quietly advancing the state of knowledge with every new fish brought up from the deeps.

And then there's the plot, which there are so, so many options for. I would start the novel with simple sailing, a few chapters of the daily routine, the personalities, their petty fights with each other, and the stress of being in the middle of unfathomably deep waters whose depths are only glimpsed when the nets bring up something new. Then ... an island, another ship, sea creatures that have a glimmer of intelligence, a storm that makes the ship limp, spoilage that threatens starvation unless drastic action is taken, a political squabble that might bring all the plans crashing down.

Maybe it's a book about being trapped by the past, or about hanging on by what feels like a delicate thread, or about how systems are fragile and careful thinking and brave leadership are the only things that will get us through.

Mostly I think I want to be a geek about a ship that needs to survive in the ocean for a hundred years, and I do not have the time to write this novel, not when there are so many other novels to write.

[devastatinglygreen]

Why do you think they're waiting for the Lady Whistledown reveal?

aside from drama? and i mean that seriously. i know everyone had headcanons and wants for years here but they're building tension. there was no real tension in part one outside of sexual and the stakes need to be higher for the penultimate episode.

the next bit is spoilers we know have been pretty much seen by too many people for ep 5 at least so wander under the cut at your own risk:

i think, and i know a lot of people aren't going to be thrilled about colin not knowing before some things happen, that they need to do two things: solidify their relationship a bit and basically send penelope into a spiral to take the stakes higher.

they have plot armor, they're not going to behead penelope right there in the queen's garden with the peacocks once she gets caught. the only thing truly up for grabs is polin. and not even that, not really, but it's the thing the audience is going to care about.

the spoilers have penelope trying to tell him but failing because she keeps getting interrupted. every time she fails, the clock ticks further. it's a pressure build. eloise is on her back. colin is just wandering along, deliriously happy and penelope knows she's carrying this bomb she's gonna blow up in his face.

she lost eloise to it. colin is the love of her life. i think we can all do that math. she's so stressed out by eloise's timeline she can barely breathe and then comes cressida.

you've got cressida taking credit for LW, colin's happiness sitting on her shoulders (tho i do think it's also so smart of them to have him defend penelope to portia before he finds out, it might give him some insight to how penelope is treated and feels when the right time comes), eloise is assuming things and giving her hell.

i mean, wouldn't you be a mess too? like, give the girl some grace her entire life is imploding right after getting what she's always wanted and never thought she'd get and losing the two most important people in the world to her only a few months before. would you want to blow that up again? yes, yes, i'm sure everyone who says "but she has to!" is very morally outraged and perfectly righteous in their own lives scoffs at the idea that penelope might struggle with a secret she doesn't know what to do with.

it's not like we've never seen how that eats her up before, right? oh. we totally have. nvm.

anyways. cressida. i kind of hope it's the turning point for peneloise because i think even eloise knows she's not a good person to have in a position of power like that. say what you want but penelope doesn't lie in LW.

add in they seem to be bringing in book scenes and i'm going to guess colin catches her after she takes off to print something saying cressida is a whole ass lie. fight ensues. angst! stakes are ridiculously high. the wedding is planned. the pedestals are knocked over and now colin will know everything. does he love her after that? can he? does he trust her ever again? (clearly yes or they're gonna need to change up that family tree thing they released lol).

this will give way to colin having to come to terms with penelope's legacy and how it affects his own estimation of himself and his writing. jealousy like the book. it's a colin issue and he knows it but he still has to deal with it.

colin very much thinks penelope is his purpose, right? the book says it. LN said it about show colin. he's gotta reconcile that LW and penelope are two halves of the same person. he can't put them both in boxes.

anyways what i mean is that the stakes need to be high and her blurting it out then having 2.5 episodes of them moping around about their LW fight isn't really the thing that gets your heart racing when you've got 8 episodes to tell the whole story.

(also as an aside, i think it's going to lead to us getting second "firsts" in a way. it's not going to be a first kiss or anything but i feel like the energy of it all will be different and i, personally, think that could be very fun)

[ms-demeanor]

it's hard to find legitimate data on risks associated with alcohol--a lot of results from religious organizations w/ vested financial interest in evangelical cult-type shit comes up when i try. i drink heavily occasionally, mostly because i just really like the experience of getting blasted with close friends once every few months--any advice on tracking down actual *reputable* data on the risks of that?

(tamping down on the urge to anonymously defend my actions in my favorite anarchism blogger's inbox but i *will* allow myself to defensively note that i never drink to the point of blacking out or puking. this isn't really relevant to the question i just have brain problems where i feel compelled to defend myself against imaginary assumptions.)

Okay i want to start this out by pointing out that I'm not particularly judgemental about drug use. Any drug use.

Basically, you do you. As long as you're not drinking and driving or otherwise doing harm (for instance, attempting to provide childcare while too intoxicated to do so safely) the only thing you have to worry about is what alcohol is doing to *you* and I was a smoker for like twenty years knowing full well how awful for me it was. If you want to drink and you know the risks, do what you want.

So, all that said, I mean this very gently (because it's clear that this is a sensitive issue for you) but it is not particularly difficult to find good data about risks associated with alcohol from sources less biased than American evangelicals.

For some research on the overall risks of alcohol consumption, here are some good, comprehensive, recent papers about the effects of alcohol on both individuals and populations.

Risk thresholds for alcohol consumption: combined analysis of individual-participant data for 599,912 current drinkers in 83 prospective studies

Population-level risks of alcohol consumption by amount, geography, age, sex, and year: a systematic analysis for the Global Burden of Disease Study 2020

Alcohol consumption and risks of more than 200 diseases in Chinese men

Getting occasionally blasted with friends is what's called "binge drinking" - which is defined as five or more drinks within two hours for men or four or more drinks in two hours for women, or reaching a BAC of .08 (the legal limit for driving in the US). This is a lot lower than most people think of when they think of "binge drinking" - that's five beers, an average bottle of wine, or two strong cocktails like a long island iced tea. Five or more drinks wouldn't put most people into blacking out or puking territory, and if you're a seasoned drinker a BAC of .08 may not feel like anything over the top or ridiculous, but it is a drinking binge nonetheless and there are specific risks associated with binge drinking. Here are some write-ups on binge drinking specifically:

Binge drinking: Burden of liver disease and beyond

Binge Drinking’s Effects on the Body

Effects of Repeated Binge Drinking on Blood Pressure Levels and Other Cardiovascular Health Metrics in Young Adults

I get the urge to feel defensive, it sounds like this is something that's concerning you and from the tone of your ask it seems like this is something that you were not aware of and has made you uneasy. (And it sounds like you're around a lot of people who ARE judgemental about alcohol consumption for reasons that have to do with them imposing their morality on you, which is a shitty position to be in)

But hey i wouldn't be a very good marginal anarchist if I wasn't about making sure that people have informed interactions with the world.

I still go out and get shitfaced every once in a while because it's fun and there are things that I can do to mitigate the risks (like making sure I'm around safe people, don't have access to a motor vehicle, and don't do it often) but I do so with the awareness that what I am doing could have some pretty bad consequences and I need to make sure to watch out for my health to keep an eye on the systems that drinking like that might impact. If you're gonna drink, you should be keeping an eye on yourself generally. If you're gonna drink heavily (even if it's only every couple of months), you have got to keep an eye on your liver, pancreas, and heart specifically.

[flutterbyoz]

5 OTPs and 1 ultimate OTP

Deciding on my ultimate OTP was the easy part, it was picking the 5 others that took some time. I've had many ships over the years, some I obsessed over more than others but these are what I decided on as my top 5.

John/Aeryn - Farscape

John and Aeryn were one of my very first ships, before I even really knew what shipping was. I discovered them back in the very early 2000s and quickly fell head over heels for them. For a wacky, crazy, sexy and wonderfully weird sci-fi show, Farscape told one of the best love stories I've ever seen. The chemistry, the natural build up, the tension and their whole journey's, individually and together makes these two one of the best ships ever.

Sometimes it seems shows can be reluctant to put their two leads together, even when they are clearly right for each other, because they think it won't be as interesting once they are romantically involved. However, Farscape proved that with good writing it can work exceptionally well and add to the story in such a positive way. They also stayed clear of some of the more cliched storytelling, not just when it came to John and Aeryn's romance but the series in general. Farscape gave us a truly memorable romance and after 4 seasons it was finished up in the most perfect way in a miniseries.

For over 2 decades, John and Aeryn were my ultimate OTP, even when I found new ships I always came back to them because they were written so amazingly well and got the happy ending that many of my other ships never did. They had drama, angst and they even both died on separate occasions but they won out and the mini series gave them the perfect happy ending. John and Aeryn will always hold a special place in my heart, they are an example of how love stories can be told right.

Hetty and Trevor - Ghosts US

Okay, this is a very new ship for me having only discovered them at the end of last year and I really couldn't help but fall for them. Hetty and Trevor are two people who really shouldn't work together at all but somehow they really do. Ridiculous, hilarious and adorable, these two just drew me in but what's a little different for me from my other ships is I'm still not sure whether I want them to be a true romantic couple or if I just want them to get back to where they were in season 2. Their hook ups were so wonderful and they play off each other so well that I just really need these two to get back together in some way. Ghosts US writers, please make it happen, these two have way too much potential and chemistry to be pushed aside. I need more H-Money in my life!

Jack and Sam - Stargate SG1

Jack and Sam were a ship who were never explicitly said to be together but there were many hints, in later seasons, that they were. Rules and regulations pretty much forbad a romantic relationship, though in many alternate realities they were together. The feelings between them were clear, showing themselves at various moments throughout the series, some more subtle than others but they were always present in some form. This is another pairing who had wonderful chemistry on and off screen and I love them both dearly. I know Jack and Sam are together and living happily ever after, I won't except anything else.

Xena and Gabrielle - Xena: Warrior Princess

Another ship where it was never explicitly said in the show they were together but was very much implied. These two are beautiful and had this show been made today, they most definitely would have been together. I've had a few F/F ships over the years, one which hurt me quite badly despite actually getting a happy ending and another which has yet to really set sail but Xena and Gabrielle, though I wish their ending was different, are still a ship I return to quite often and are still very dear to me.

Miranda and Gary - Miranda

Miranda and Gary are the most adorable ship and I love them to pieces. I'm not often a fan of ships in sitcoms, for some reason they don't seem to hit the right notes for me but there is something about these two and how their story was told that I just fell in love with. They really bring out the best in each other, they get each other on a level that few others do and they get their happy ending, which it seems isn't always a thing for many of my ships. Miranda is a show I can watch over and over, it's one of my comfort shows and always picks me up if I'm feeling down. They are just the most lovable and sweet ship and just make me so happy.

Honourable mentions:

Jo and Bill - Twister

Connie and Jacob - Casualty

Iain and Lily - Casualty

Jeff and Tamzin - Casualty

Lara and Patrick - Casualty

Jack and Rose - Titanic

Claire and Owen - Jurassic World trilogy

Ten and Rose - Doctor Who

Caitlyn and Vi - Arcane

Evan and Dylan - Primeval New World

Jack and Rose - Titanic

John and Maureen - Lost In Space

Now comes my ultimate OTP and it could only really be one couple

Rick and Michonne (Richonne) - The Walking Dead

Now, what can I say to describe these two beautiful people and their amazing love story?

Finding such a gorgeous love story in a show with zombies was never something I thought I'd do, I never thought it would be the kind of show I'd watch either but here we are. I discovered Richonne during a search on Tumblr for another ship I was into at the time, a ship which sadly did not end well, but I did find these two so something positive came out of it. I was drawn in by GIFS, their chemistry and connection shone through in just a few seconds and I was so intrigued to find out more about them. I watched TWD just for them and in all honesty they are the only reason I still keep up with the show.

Richonne have something I've not seen in any other ship I've had, though I'm not sure I can quite put my finger on what that is. Their chemistry is electric and so natural that they really make the love story believable and realistic. Andy and Dania's off screen friendship is also beautiful, the love, care and trust they have for each other is clear to see and I love watching their off screen interactions too. They really are friendship goals! Plus they are just as big Richonne shippers as us and it makes me love them even more.

Rick and Michonne are one of a kind, they are in a league of their own when it comes to chemistry and storytelling and are the only ship I've had that not only have their own show dedicated to their love story, but both actors are also co-creators, co-writers and executive producers. Not only that but Danai wrote an episode herself and I don't think I'm exaggerating here when I say it is one of the best episodes in the history of TWD. Though to me it is the best.

From the moment they met at the fence to the final scene in TOWL 1x06, Richonne have proved time and time again why they are not only the best couple on TWD but to me, the best couple to have ever graced my screen. They could give lessons on how a love story should be told, how longing, romance and deep unbreakable love should be portrayed on screen. They love each other so purely, so intensely and so completely that it's palpable and being the love of each others lives is not just assumed but proved and vocalised too.

This is a couple who are both warriors, they have had to resort to extreme measures to survive and to keep the people they love safe and while that is one side to them, they are also very soft, gentle and loving with each other. They are both willing to do anything to keep each other and their kids safe.

Also, they are both extremely attractive people who make an insanely good looking couple!

This is why Richonne is my ultimate OTP and I have a feeling they may just remain in that spot forever.

[ghostchems]

wrong place, right time - papa emeritus iv x female!reader

you work at a local concert venue, specializing in requests from the music acts. one request and one warning slips your mind.

a/n: well!! i've been working on this for a few days and i've been feeling meh about my writing so i'm really glad i was able to get this out here! 2.6k words. spicy content! mdni! 18+! ao3 link.

You know you’re not supposed to be here. Among all of the instructions you had been given earlier in the day, the one to stay away from dressing rooms near the end of the show scared you the most. 

And yet, here you are. 

***

You drop off the last pack of chicken nuggets into the dressing room and give it a once over. There is an abundance of other snacks and drinks, anything that a “Ghoul” or a “Papa” would need. Or at least, you hope. You followed the directions in their rider closely so if they have any complaints… well, you would probably just deal with them anyway. That’s typically how you handle issues with the various acts that have given you trouble.

You like your job, you really do. You get to see the behind the scenes of music acts year round at a rather large venue that is close to your apartment. It’s the perfect job for you, especially since you’ve never been fond of working behind a desk. You need movement and excitement to keep you going, to keep you focused on the tasks at hand.

The fact that the band you are supporting is satanic doesn’t bother you much. The concert has been on your schedule for ages and you have been excited for the show leading up to it, mainly because it is different from the other pop shows and country concerts you’ve been supporting this summer. Your job is to make sure that the act’s riders are followed completely, including the ridiculous requests. The strangest request you had ever had to fulfill was twelve rotisserie chickens for some kind of christian rock band but your coworkers tease you that maybe Ghost had sacrificial goats in their rider.

When the band first arrives, you feel a deep chill run down your spine. Their appearance is not what you were expecting. Ghouls pile out of the tour bus, their bug-like masked jerking around to get a look at the venue. They are dressed like they walked off of a battlefield with poofed pants and large, black boots with a golden upside-down cross shining on the front of them.They stop and examine the venue crew members, their gazes dropping up and down from each member. One of them stops in front of you and they tilt their head. You offer an anxious laugh and they offer you a large, blindingly white smile.

“E-eh, don’t mind them.” The voice snaps you out of getting lost in the Ghoul’s sharp teeth. You turn to him, blinking a few times at his sharp mismatched eyes. Something takes hold of you in that moment. “They are just, eh, curious creatures. Harmless… unless they are hungry.” He smiles weakly at you and holds out his hand. You take it and give it a shake, eyes drifting up and down his figure. He is wearing a maroon tracksuit and he looks like just a guy. Definitely less intimidating than the costume wearing ghouls. “I’m Copia. Eh, I really appreciate you and your position. Did you get the, uh-?”

“Juice boxes. Yes, I have them, just need to put them in the fridge.” 

“Ah, grazie. Thank you. And, eh, the-”

“The McNuggets are in the dressing rooms, yes.” 

Someone calls for him and he is quickly scurrying away from you with a quick wave. Again, not the strangest interaction with an act you have ever had but something did feel off about it. The moment he is gone the air feels less thick and you can breathe again. You take a few deep breaths and snap yourself out of it before heading off to make sure everything is ready for the night. 

“Hey!” 

Your eyes scan the area and your head snaps in the direction of the voice. Another man, this one dressed similarly to the ghouls but without most of the flare. He has a gold upside down cross pinned to his vest. He catches up to you and rests his hands on his knees for a moment to catch your breath.

“Sorry, sorry to bug you. Uh, just wanted to follow up on those juice boxes.” 

“I will drop them off in the dressing room.” You clench your jaw but manage to sound as pleasant as you possibly can.

“N-no, I mean, uh… it’s very important that they are dropped off early on. Like, before the end of the show.” The man seems nervous, his voice sounding a bit high pitched and his eyes wide with what appears to be fear. You start to answer but he is quick to cut you off, one of his hands grasping at your shoulder. “You’ve done a great job. A really great job, but it is incredibly important that no one is in Papa’s dressing room after the show. No one.”

You swallow thickly and give a small nod. He lets go of you, his eyes still piercing yours. He gives you a light pat on the arm and then walks away but turns over his shoulder a few times to look at you. This isn’t the first warning you’ve received but it feels more… harrowing than the others. The genuine fear in the man’s eyes and the thickness of the air when you first met Copia gives you pause but you quickly shake it off, as there are tasks to be done.

The show runs smoothly on your side of things. There have been no complaints and you are already thinking of you post show plans (stopping at a gas station for one of those snickers ice cream bars and then eating it in bed) — until you remember. The juice boxes. The fucking juice boxes. You quickly snatch the pack of them from the ground and take off running to Papa’s dressing room. 

You estimate that they are performing the encore now so you don’t have much time. It doesn’t take long before you’re in the dressing room and you are immediately distracted by the colorful jackets lining the racks. You snap yourself out of it once your eyes settle on the mini fridge. Your heart is thudding in your ears as you open the mini fridge and stock it with fresh juice boxes, placing the entire case in it and shutting the door.

You’re not sure what you're afraid of more: getting trouble with your boss or being here when this “Papa” gets back. Your feet pound beneath you as you run to the door to the room when the knob starts to turn. You freeze as the door opens and you see him. 

Copia.

Only he looks different, his face painted like some kind of skull and he is dressed in a red, sparkling jacket. His hair is mussed from performing and for a moment, he looks frazzled that you’re here before his lips curl into a dark smile.

“Oh, Copia, I’m so sorry.” You start to make your way to the door, maneuvering yourself so that you are still facing him. “I was just topping off the juice boxes. I’ll be out of your hair now.” You start to move to the door but he’s too fast, his hands grabbing you by the wrists and pinning them above your head, your back pressed to the door. 

“Don’t be sorry, piccolina.” His voice is a low growl and he leans in further to you, his nose brushing against yours. You can’t move your mouth to speak, only offering a small whimper in response. He’s doing something to you; you can feel some kind of buzzing come from him. “Look into my eye — tell me what you see.” You can’t deny him, your eyes immediately flitting to his white one.

You feel it first, the heat licking at your skin. Your eyes widen and your mouth drops open, unable to look away from the white hot flames of Hell you see within him. Copia let’s go of your wrists and you aren’t even able to move them, keeping them above your head as you gaze into the endless depths suffering and torture at the hands of creatures you could hardly even fathom. 

The next thing you feel is Copia’s lips against yours, breaking the trance you were in but when you close your eyes you can still see the flames. Your arms fall around his neck and he deepens the kiss, his tongue hungrily invading your mouth, tasting every inch of you. His hands drift down to your hips and he pulls them into him, feeling his already hard cock rut against you. 

When he pulls away, you feel exhausted. You catch your breath as you blink your half lidded eyes at him, your chest shuddering with each exhale. Copia keeps his cock pressed hard against you, while his hands start to wander your body. The heat that had danced along your skin now spreads through your body, turning into the most intense desire you’ve ever felt.

“This is why they come to see us.” His lips quirk into a grin as his fingers tease at your breasts through your shirt. “To catch a glimpse of what lies beyond.” You suck in a breath as he presses in closer, leaning in to whisper in your ear. “You’ve been blessed by Lucifer, piccolina.” He nips at your earlobe then starts to plant open mouthed kisses down your neck. You give a low groan, your nails digging into his shoulders as he kisses lower and lower. His fingers toy with the waistband of your pants before getting down on his knees in front of you.

“C-Copia, I—“ You stop short once his eyes meet yours, looking softer this time. “Papa. Papa, I didn’t mean to-“

“Shhh, dolcezza.” He starts to tug at your pants, pulling them down and exposing your already damp panties. “It’s okay. You are where you’re meant to be.” Papa’s voice is smooth and it does the trick at calming your nerves, until he presses a kiss to your clit through your underwear. A gasp catches in your throat as he moans against you, his fingers hooking into your panties to slip them off.

Papa bites and kisses at your thighs, ever so close to your dripping cunt, moving closer and closer until he finally drags his tongue across you. Your body trembles and you tilt your head back against the door, your eyes falling shut. His tongue works your folds and dips inside of you as he moans deeply into you, his hands gripping your thighs tight. His nose pressed against your clit and his tongue delves even deeper, fucking you with it.

Your hands fall to knot in his soft hair and he pushes his face even further into you with a groan. It’s like he can’t get enough of your taste, lapping greedily at your pussy. You feel lightheaded, your nerves on fire as your hips buck against his face. His nails dig into your thighs and his moans grow louder, your back arching against the door while you teeter on the edge. Papa’s nose brushes against your clit just right and you come undone with a choked sob. He pressed another kiss to your swollen clit while you come down from your high, his arms curling around you.

Papa lifts you as he brings himself to his feet, carrying you carefully across the room. He lowers you onto the couch, peeling off your top as he does so. Once it’s off, your hand grabs his cravat and you pull him in for a kiss. He groans against your lips, moving against them with hunger as he starts to tug at your bra. Even with the paint, he tastes smokier more than anything, reminding you of the bright fires of his eye. The kiss is desperate and you cling to him, craving his body against yours. 

He breaks the kiss abruptly, leaving you whimpering while he grabs your hips. You are flipped over and you give a soft grunt from how quickly it happens, getting your bearings as his hand drifts down your backside. Papa settles himself behind you, spreading you open wide for him and he gives a raspy moan just at the sight of you.

“What a good girl you are.” He growls as he drags his cock across your cunt. “Do you want this, dolcezza? Do you want me to take you?” Papa presses his cock against your entrance and holds it there, the pressure making your body tremble.

“Y-yes, please. Please, Papa, please I-“ 

You cry out as Papa buries himself inside you to the hilt, a deep growl rumbling from his chest as he sets a merciless pace. His hips snap into you and you manage to push against each of his thrusts, your hands scrambling to hold onto the leather couch to keep yourself in place. Breathy moans spill from your lips, your eyes squeezing shut as he fills you. You haven’t been fucked like this in ages and it’s been something you’ve craved for some time now. You think maybe he saw something inside you too when your eyes met.

His gloved hand ghosts up your back until he reaches your shoulder, grabbing onto it and pushes you further into the couch. You are practically drooling onto it as he fucks you, his cock massaging all the sensitive spots inside you. Papa tugs you by your shoulder, pulling you up so your back is to his chest. He slows his pace to be more sensual and his hands wander your body while he bites and sucks at your neck and back. 

“Ti senti, a-ah, cosi bene.” He pants, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. You lean your head back on his shoulder, moving your hips against his. Papa is paying attention to every inch of you, massaging, pinching, kissing, nipping anywhere he can find. You’ve never felt so worshipped, so sexy. He sits back on his heels and pulls you along with him, his mouth still latched to your neck.

You start to grind down on him, your hips moving slowly at first. Papa wraps his arms around you, groaning into your neck as you start to pick up the pace. He slips his hand down between your legs, finger tracing over your swollen clit. A gasp rips from your throat, your body writhing as you ride his cock. His hips start to stutter and he swiped his finger vigorously across your clit.

“F-fuck, Papa!” You whine as your walls spasm and contract around his cock, the muscles in your legs tending as you cum. He bites into your shoulder, muffling a deep moan in the back for his throat, his cock pulsing inside of you as he empties himself. Papa let’s go of you and you fall to your hands and knees on the couch, in a complete daze while catching your breath. 

“Come here, piccolina.” He hums, an arm looping around your waist to pull you into his lap. Papa looks down at you with such care, caressing your body as you start to come back down to Earth.

“How… how am I supposed to go back to real life now?” Your eyes are wide, thinking back to what you saw. 

“You’re not, cara.” He toys with your breasts, his fingers plucking at your nipples. “There is room on the bus, you know.” You stay quiet for a little while, his fingers moving down to stroke at your tummy.

“Will you show me more? If I stay?” You sit up and look at him, hair falling into your face. Papa tilts his head, soft eyes searching your face.

“Are there juice boxes in the fridge?”

“…yes.”

“Well, piccolina, as long as there are juice boxes and you in my dressing room at the end of the rest of our shows, I will show you more.” His nose brushes against yours and you feel his hot breath on your lips. You lean in.

A kiss to seal the deal.

[piratefalls]

it's been a week and it's only tuesday. my brain is so tired i almost uploaded a snapshot of my dog's vet records. here's the greatest hits of everything i've read in the last week. (mind the tags on a few!)

masterlist

might blow up in your pretty face by crybabie

“I see you liked my gift,” Alex’s voice was light, but lower than Henry had ever heard it. His belly swooped at the sound. And then the words caught up with him. “Gift?” He felt the color drain from his face and frantically reopened Snapchat to confirm his worst fucking nightmare: his most recent outgoing messages had been sent to Alex, and all of them had been opened already. “Playing dumb doesn’t suit you,” Alex told him, still teasing, but he sounded muffled through the ringing in Henry’s ears. “I gotta say, I wasn’t expecting you to even acknowledge them, let alone send pictures. They look good on you.” - or, the next box was indeed full of thongs :)

When I Met You (I Could Not Speak) by @sparklepocalypse

Following the latest string of disastrous first dates with beautiful women to whom he’s decidedly unattracted, and with yet another circular argument with Philip about duty still ringing in his ears, Henry’s summarily fled to the countryside. Here at least, he reasons, there’s no pressure to woo the locals. (A modern fairy tale AU.)

A thousand dreams that would awake me by @kiwiana-writes

“It’s not about punishment.” Alex just nods; Henry had been very clear on the form that he wasn’t looking to be dominated or put in his place, so that won’t be new information. “And it’s not the pain as such.” He runs his fingers along the edge of the mug. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like to feel it, but I’m not looking for pain for the sake of pain. It’s more about… control, I think.” There’s a long silence. “Taking it?” Alex prompts finally. “Or giving it up?” “Does it sound ridiculous if I say both?” Or, Henry visits a sex club to get spanked the way he's craving.

Foreign Bodies by clottedcreamfudge

“We both know it's not a doctor you need,” Henry says, sharp and beautiful, hands hovering just in front of him like he wants to touch Alex, but knows exactly how it would be received; like he knows Alex would burst into fucking flames at the first brush of his fingertips. Three hours ago, Alex had been quite happy to live without being burned. Now, he thinks he'd pay for the privilege.

Well It Ain't Missionary by everwitch

Alex Claremont-Diaz, a ballet dancer, is asked to list his ‘favorite positions.’ His hilariously suggestive answer goes viral, as does the unexpectedly flustered reaction to it by the Internet’s very own FoxySexEd. So obviously, Alex has to slide into Henry’s DMs. How could he resist? When a man that attractive wants your dick, only a fool would pass. Henry is surprising. He wants to be pushed around, thrown for a loop, and he wants Alex to do it for him. But whenever Alex tries to soften his landing, Henry clams up like he’s been burned. Alex can work around that, obviously. He's a dancer. If you're gonna toe the line just right, pointe shoes are a must. Or: Alex and Henry fuck. Not in missionary.

all my time is yours to spend by smc_27

Any way you look at it, Bea is not meant to be here, and if it were just the lights, he’d assume she forgot to turn them off. The fire burning is another thing entirely. The weather has been dreadful, and perhaps her flight was canceled. Surely, she’d have told him as much. He should investigate.

i told myself don't get attached (but in my mind i play it back) by coffeecatsme

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Claremont-Diaz,” the woman behind the counter says, eyes wide and apologetic. Alex grits his teeth so he doesn’t say something inappropriate in a lobby full of scared families, crying kids, and the obscenely tall British guy that’s currently giving him a fucking migraine. “Due to the snowstorm warning, all the flights are cancelled, and unfortunately the room you’ve booked is currently occupied.” “Occupied,” Alex repeats dumbly, nails digging into his palm. “I booked this room three months ago.” “Yes, well, the previous occupant—” “Should’ve been out of here by now.” Alex knows he sounds harsh, he knows the stupid blond is hovering somewhere behind him listening to the whole conversation, but he can’t help it. He’s not spending what’s supposed to be his vacation alone with another guy in his room. Or, Alex and Henry are stuck in the same room in a hotel during a sudden blizzard

how do you want me? by rizcriz

“Christ,” Henry curses quietly, lowering the camera. “You’re beautiful.” Kneeling on the bed, his ankles crossed behind him, a hand tucked into his briefs, the other carefully weaved through his hair, is Bea’s friend Alex. The light sits on his skin, a delicate shadow of eyelashes fan over his cheeks, and when Henry speaks, he opens his eyes and looks at him from beneath those eyelashes, a careful smirk slipping over his lips. He doesn’t move from the pose, though, as he says, “You’re not so bad yourself, sweetheart.” - Or Henry’s in over his head.

The Next Draft by graceofgrayskull

“This is so unfair,” Alex says, still eyeing Henry. “What?” June asks. “That Henry Fox is talented, successful, and also mind-numbingly good-looking?” says Nora. Alex nods. “Exactly. Like my perfect nemesis. He’s coming for my brand.” -- Alex has read Henry Fox's debut approximately three times in the past three months. The novel, featuring a wary protagonist coming to terms with his sexuality, is garnering Fox critical acclaim. And maybe Alex is a little jealous — his own novel generated a surprising amount of success last year after going viral online, but it just wasn't cut out for the type of buzz Fox was receiving. So Alex jumps at the chance to meet Henry at a book signing, despite knowing very little about the man himself. What starts as a bad first impression quickly leads to fast friendship, many Instagram DMs, and a whole lot of mutual pining.

Shoot Your Shot by RoseHarperMaxwell

Jimmy raises his eyebrows in anticipation. “First celebrity crush?” As usual, Alex’s mouth is moving before his mind can catch up. “Oh,” he gestures, like this is both obvious and the easiest question he’s ever been asked. “Prince Henry.”

No Laughing Matter by inexplicablymine

Ellen is leaning over him, her blonde hair pulled back in a perfectly coiffed updo. He had never managed to understand why exactly she was always dressed so impeccably in her scrubs as a dentist. But she seemed almost presidential, even with the eyeglasses that had magnifying glasses sticking out of them making her look a little like some kind of bug. She only needs a quick look before she is snapping her gloves against her wrists pulling away. “Wisdom teeth come in and then they come out,” she says, and then as an afterthought tack on, “just like you.” Or, who said a meet cute couldn't happen while getting your Wisdom Teeth out?

Love and Hate at the Farmers' Market by @myheartalivewrites

Alex and Henry both work at a farmers' market and they hate each other, until suddenly— oops! They don't!

i'll bet it all on me and you, i'll bet it all you're bulletproof by anincompletelist

“Let’s do this,” he says. “Let’s,” Alex agrees, pushing down on the handle until the door swings open. “After you, boyfriend.” This is most definitely not his finest idea. Henry usually practices much better self preservation skills. Much better common sense skills. He steps over the threshold of Alex’s room and it feels like sealing his fate. They’re doing this for Alex to win over their bosses in a lighthearted game with a harmless lie, but Henry can’t fight off the bitter knowledge that, regardless of how tonight goes, Alex will be fine, but Henry has so much to lose.

in an emergency by metacrisis

Alex gets in his own head about a meme Henry liked and decides to take matters, quite literally, into his own hands. OR, Alex gets a sex toy and other nonsense.

(Valen)Tie Me Up by happinessofthepursuit

“Well, I actually made your gift at one of Pez’s workshops, though I’m sure they would’ve gotten it out of me anyway,” Henry says, voice fond. Alex’s mind is whirring, going through the monthly calendars from Seize the Play. Pez leads classes multiple times a week, but there’s only a few that Henry could’ve attended, and one in particular that would explain his own gift… “Which one?” Alex asks. “I think that’ll immediately be clear.” Or, Alex and Henry exchange gifts for their first Valentine’s together—then proceed to use them.

More Amour by surveycorpsjean

Alex discovers something in Henry's closet that changes everything.

Confidential Memorandum by sherryvalli

"Hello, Mr. Fox-Mountchristen's office. How may I help you?" "Hello, can I speak to Mr. Fox-Mount-krishen, please?" Alex blinked. After two weeks of hearing nothing but the voices of snooty men and frazzled secretaries calling in, the person on the other line now sounded decidedly neither snooty nor male nor in any way adult. It was a little girl. "Mr. Fox-Mountchristen's unfortunately in a meeting right now,” Alex began slowly, “but I could take a message?" "Oh." The girl paused. "You're not Mr. Hunter." Alex starts a new job as Henry's new assistant. Henry's daughter keeps calling the office and leaving him messages.

in bloom by stutteringpeach

Yoo, can u hook me up with some flowers?? It's the busiest day of the year for florists. Alex texts Henry with a last minute request.

don't want you like a best friend by @priincebutt

The thing about marrying your best friend who you also happen to have a very secret crush on, is that you don’t take into account how much it will hurt. When they’re around his family and Alex holds his hand so easily, like it’s second nature, it makes Henry’s heart skip a beat, but when they return back to his apartment the distance is deafening. Alex purposefully sits at the opposite end of the couch, and Alex sleeps in the guest bedroom, and Alex calls him ‘man’ like two bros who definitely aren’t in love with each other. So he pines, and he’s heartbroken already, because he knows how much this is going to shatter him when it’s over. Because Alex is integrating into his life like it’s nothing, like it’s easy and this could be their new normal, and that kind of thinking is fucking dangerous. Or, Alex and Henry get married, conveniently.

everyone adores you (at least i do) by matherine

Rain is coming down in sheets against the stained glass windows of the brownstone when the door swings open, ushering in the howl of the wind and the man Henry loves more than anything in the world. “Why didn’t you use your colonizer blood money to buy a place closer to the train station?” Alex calls from the doorway. Henry hears the familiar rhythm of the lock tumblers turning and Alex’s copy of the key to the brownstone clinking against Henry’s signet ring and the key to the Austin house on his chest, only vaguely muffled by the rain. “It’s miserable out there.” Or: Alex comes into the brownstone in the midst of a rainstorm, and Henry realizes he never wants him to leave.

know how to cover up a scene by HypnosTheory

“That’s how Alvie kisses Harry,” Alex says, squeezing Henry’s wrist. Henry’s eyes dart down to the slight red mark on Alex’s cheek. He hit Alex the last time they were together. Henry didn’t get to watch the bruise form then with Alex between his legs. “That’s why Harry wanders, but he always comes back.” Henry draws in a shaky breath. “Alvie’s a lucky man.” Alex’s eyes drop to Henry’s neck, where the diamond of his pendant hangs amid the forming marks Alex left behind. “Sure is." __ Henry Fox, needing an extraction, must rely on his part-time rival, full-time problem Alex Claremont-Diaz. To get that extraction, Henry needs to pose as Alex's date for a high-stakes dinner. They get in character - and stay that way behind closed doors.

as always, let me know if you want to be tagged, and i'll see you next week!

tagging: @starkfridays @stilesgivesmefeels @midnightsfp @sarahjswift