#so his eyes melting is like the equivalent to crying

[ask-the-totally-real-peppino]

Oh.. that must've been a terrifying moment in your life, Peppino.

It's not our place to pry, but we're glad you're okay and that the worst of your life is over. We can only hope that things get better from here on out, and we'll also support you just as much as we support our Pep!

Oh! Speaking of Pep! Dear, you might wanna wrinse your eyes with a little bit of water to get the chemicals out of your eyes!

Pep: *confused and slightly distressed burbling*

Peppino: "Oh, sorry, Pep! I didn't think about how the onions would-a affect you! And maybe it's-a sign to sharpen my knives..."

Peppino: "Here, come this way, and we can wash your eyes."

Peppino: "Suppose we add 'goggles' to the shopping list."

Peppino: "But yeah, I appreciate the kind words. I know you're-a Pep's friends, but it's-a nice to hear that sometimes..."

Peppino: "Anyway, let's not dwell on the past, are you alright now, Pep?"

Pep: "Yes~"

Peppino: "O-Oh, good... That's-a good."

Peppino: "Right, let's get back to it! I only needed the one onion for the moment, so that shouldn't happen again. I'll-a keep your friends' tips in mind for next time."

[sweet-as-an-angel]

I read your yandere dilf post just before going to sleep and had a very interesting dream as a result: yandere Wild West Outlaw!

He takes you hostage to keep the rangers from going after him after a robbery. You’re tied up in front of him on his horse and after riding away from town for a long time he doesn’t set you down somewhere like you expected but takes you with him into his hideout.

Bonus: he‘s (basically) masked > bandana covering half his face and the rim of his hat casting a shadow over his eyes

Yandere Wild West Outlaw! Headcanons

Warnings: Implications of Smut, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Touching, Forced Proximity, Slow Burn, Stockholm Syndrome, Masked Outlaw ;), Petnames, Killing, Mentions of Robbery, Non-Consensual Voyeurism/Surveillance, Description of Injury & Blood, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’, etc.

A/N: Anon, I am in love with this concept !

♡ Yandere Outlaw whose body encompasses yours, his chest to your back and his arms caging you as he grips the horse’s reigns, his breathing steady as if he hadn’t just committed a multitude of crimes. Then again, considering how proficient he was at wiping the inn clean of all its savings and tying you up on his horse before the rangers could even arrive, you suspected this was not the first time he’d done this. Nor would it be the last.

♡ Yandere Outlaw says very little after he abducted you, his last words being sharp commands, laden with a calmness you would never have expected from a man holding an entire building hostage.

♡ And, in your terror, you said nothing to him, your back to his front as he rode to nowhere discernible, the civilised, populated terrain of your home town having melted away hours ago.

♡ No, the Outlaw gave nothing away. Even after days of being forced to travel with him to what you could only pray would be a town – somewhere for him to dispose of you before taking to the canyons again – he said nothing.

♡ He’d offer you food, and, after the first 24 hours of starving yourself out of sheer distrust – or principle, as you wanted to see it – you succumbed to your famine.

♡ Yandere Outlaw would feed it to you before disappearing behind whatever cover lay nearby – oftentimes his horse – and eat.

♡ Whatever lay beneath his bandana was a mystery to you. And it only took you trying to see what he looked like once to see that your endeavour was a hopeless one.

♡ You’d strained and leaned past the point of no return, falling onto your side.

♡ And Outlaw came back into view, adjusting his bandana back over his nose, the shadow cast over his eyes by his hat much like that descending over the valley you now inhabited.

♡ Your heart stammered as he grew closer, the spurs of his boots the land equivalent to the fin of a shark as Outlaw came to a stop before you.

♡ He got to one knee, so quietly that you could see why nobody ever saw him coming, and, brushing a lock of hair from your face with a gloved hand, chuckled.

♡ Low and rumbling, like an earthquake. Or one of God’s many natural disasters. A gruff, brief thing as ephemeral as life itself. 

♡ “Don’t get yourself all scuffed up now, Darlin’,” he says. His hand trails from just behind your ear, tracing your jaw, the tendons in your neck, stopping just short of where your shirt hangs above your collar bones.

♡ You think that you hear him hiss. So sibilant and soft you’re unsure whether you perhaps imagined it and rather heard the conversation of pit vipers laying just below the hard sand beneath your ear.

♡ Outlaw’s head tilts, his face no clearer to you now as it was days ago, especially now with the setting sun casting a misplaced halo about his hat-clad head, his front shadowed. Two sides, one a light facade, the other his true nature.

♡ “You’re no good to me broken.”

♡ Yandere Outlaw whose only elaboration of that cryptic sentiment comes in the form of another day’s travel, during which you remained firmly bound – and gagged at one juncture when you made the mistake of crying for help when you spotted a lone merchant out on the open road.

♡ Yandere Outlaw neutralised that channel of freedom for you very quickly with a crack of a bullet, leaving you glassy-eyed and breathless as he ransacked the merchant’s travel cabin, taking all manner of valuables.

♡ “Why, thank you, Darlin’,” he says, his gloved hand coming to rest on your knee, clapping down on you and making you jump – shriek. And he squeezes with all the familiarity of someone who’s done this before.

♡ “Wouldn’t’a found this here haul if you hadn’t tried to scream your pretty little head off.”

♡ Yandere outlaw knows that’s isn’t quite true; he’s an excellent tracker, and an even better marksman. He’d have found this travelling man on his own eventually; the outcome would have been identical. But you didn’t need to know that.

♡ The gag was practically useless after that, for your desire to keep others from the same fate as the travelling salesman had you quiet as a mouse.

♡ Yandere Outlaw can sense how rigid you are – less so than you were when he’d first taken you, but you still felt…different. You were loose in the way that submission often made people slaves to fatigue, to their fate. And he couldn’t help but wonder if you’d succumbed to yours so soon, especially when, as you finally drifted off to sleep after a day and a half without it, you leaned into his chest, head to his shoulder.

♡ Unwillingly, of course. Your exhaustion weighed you down, lead. You had no control over your unconscious body, regardless of how repulsive you found the pillow you were leaning on.

♡ Yandere Outlaw can’t help but let his gaze drift from the open canyon ahead, gradually giving way to caves and rocky rivers, to your face. You were tranquil in sleep, brew no longer knotted in worry, or fear. Just…sleep.

♡ Yandere Outlaw could feel his hands twitching, the urge to touch you creeping up behind him the longer he stared at your vulnerable form.

♡ Yandere outlaw who, for a second, and a second only, let his hand slip from the reigns and slither, slowly, to your knee, up the expanse of your clothed thigh.

♡ Yandere Outlaw’s heart who, for the first time in a long time, beats at a humming bird’s pace when you shift in your slumber, making him withdraw.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who, watching, waiting for you to settle back into sleep, kept his hands from you the rest of the night. Though temptation beckons him to do otherwise.

♡ Yandere Outlaw shifted behind you, waking you. Only when you were torn from a dream of being anywhere but here did you realise the horse had come to a stop, an unfamiliar breeze settling over you.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who, unsaddling you from the horse, carries you like a bride in his arms, kicking open the door to an abode you didn’t even know was there.

♡ Yandere Outlaw sets you down beside a pole, tying you to it. Tightly.

♡ “Welcome home, Dollface,” he says, hands settling on his belt as he watches your eyes jump from one corner to another, taking in these new surroundings, these new circumstances.

♡ Of course, you don’t accept the conditions Outlaw has roped you into. Not without a fight.

♡ Yandere Outlaw, as a result, had to keep his eye on you when you initially began your residence with him. 

♡ For the first couple of weeks, he’d take you to the waterfall to bathe every other day; would watch you as you did so. At first, bashful and uncomfortable, you’d asked him to turn around as you stood exposed. To which the Outlaw just laughed. “Ain’t much worth lookin’ at,” he’d reassured you.

♡ Yandere outlaw who tells you exactly how the day’s going to go.

♡ “You’re gonna cook whatever I bring back. Y’understand ?”

♡ Yandere Outlaw who initially only lets you chop up vegetables and bread, withholding the excuse to use a sharp knife from you by intentionally not collecting any meat.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who, before taking even a bite of the meal you prepare, makes you taste it first. “I know you little crafty types; poison enough in your veins to kill a horse.”

♡ Translation: “You’re having this first to make sure it’s not going to kill me.”

♡  Yandere Outlaw who, after that initial hurdle, though he won’t admit it, feels his tongue practically bursting with flavour when he tastes your soup for the first time. Though, he keeps it under wraps, his form hidden behind a wall, his bandana pulled down.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who, with little alternative to offer you, makes you sleep in his bed.

♡ “Either that, or you’re sleepin’ outside.”

♡ He still wears the bandana btw, and wears a sleep mask over his eyes.

♡ He doesn’t touch you. Not in intentional ways, it would seem.

♡ Not at first.

♡ A light brush of the hand here and there. 

♡ Sure, the urge to bask in the aura of the most beautiful person he’s ever seen is pretty overwhelming for the Outlaw. Especially since he doesn’t understand why he feels this way, never having felt it for anyone else before.

♡ Sure, he’s taken others, some much more enthusiastic than others (you don’t get to his level of notoriety without attracting a few hundred fans).

♡ So, when you’re asleep, an arm and a leg bound to the bedpost, he watches you.

♡ He tells himself it’s for his own safety, to make sure you’re not going to reach for a weapon and gut him like a pig.

♡ But when he sees your gentle face, he knows you’re incapable of that

♡ He likes to think that you’re incapable of anything without him around. Makes him feel bigger, stronger.

♡ So why exactly was he still looking upon you into the late hours of the night ?

♡ Over time, his resolve begins to crack.

♡ Especially with every aspect of your partnership accounted for.

♡ The baths, the bed sharing, the homemade cooking – it’s just all so…

♡ Domestic.

♡ But, that doesn’t make Outlaw trust you any more than the day he first took you. Not yet, at least.

♡ Despite his confidence in his own ability to keep you here, he knows the indomitable human spirit is strong enough to break through every precaution. And, just in case you do manage to escape, he’s making sure you can’t pick him out of a lineup if you make it to law enforcement – if the vultures don’t pick you off first.

♡ Yandere Outlaw makes you cook every night, under the guise of you “Needin’ your strength to straighten this place out.”

♡ Yandere Outlaw who appoints you as his head housekeeper, making it your sole responsibility to be the “homemaker” of the two of you.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who feels strange when he sees you with one of his shirts tied about your waist – a makeshift apron – who doesn’t even recognise this feeling as domesticity. Warmth. That feeling of security having been deprived of him all his life.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who wonders what you’d look like wearing one of his shirts.

♡ And something in his brain chemistry changes.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who, during your river baths, knocks your clothes into the stream when you’re not looking, offering you his shirt when you’re ready to come out.

♡ “Y’really should be careful,” he tells you, swallowing thickly as the neckline of his shirt dips below your collarbones, drowning you. He looks away, not trusting that the feeling coiling in his lower half won’t spring out at any moment. “Men might take advantage of a pretty lil’ thing like you. Especially when you’re so…” A shiver shoots up his spine. “Vulnerable.”

♡ Your clothes seem to disappear not long after that, leaving you only with whatever consisted of the Outlaw’s wardrobe.

♡ You notice that he seems to disappear at odd hours of the day, leaving you to your chores while he does something.

♡ Little do you know that the something he is doing is a secret he’ll take to his grave.

♡ The sight of you in his shirts, of you in the river, is too much for him.

♡ He takes to hiding out in a densely vegetated patch of land behind the cabin to…relieve himself of his thoughts of you. Thoughts he’s used to sustaining for perhaps a second or two when it came to his prior conquests. Thoughts that, now, a month into your capture, extend long into his nights and speckle his logic when he’s on a mission.

♡ It’s dangerous, he knows; to have his mind elsewhere while he risks his life for the loot he so desires. But he can’t deny that they make him feel human. Normal.

♡ Despite how un-normal this entire situation is.

♡ It takes every ounce of his restraint not to just tie you down and take you while you sleep beside him, make you scream and cry for him as he empties his frustration and, dare he say, lust, into you.

♡ But, he doesn’t want to scare you off.

♡ Doesn’t want to see your eyes light up in fear whenever he enters the room.

♡ He wants something else.

♡ Something that he doesn’t have a word for.

♡ It’s only when he happens across a conversation with you, asking you if you had “A lover boy back home,” that he found the word he was looking for.

♡ You wince at the question, the memory of your life away from this situation salt in an unhealed wound.

♡ “No,” you tell him, your honesty a virtue. “Haven’t been in a relationship yet.”

♡ Relationship.

♡ It felt right to the Outlaw when he heard it; especially coming from you.

♡ It sticks with him the rest of the day, and while you’re cooking dinner, washing the Outlaw’s clothes, dusting the sparse furniture, he’s got one thing on his mind.

♡ How to get you into a relationship with him.

♡ He’s completely unequipped to deal with someone on such an intimate level, so he uses all his knowledge he’s gathered while seducing and bedding others to piece together a game plan.

♡ First, he needs to know what you like. He remembers from that one time a woman hit him with her shoe when he forgot her name ten minutes after meeting her.

♡ So, he starts hanging around you (much) more often, making you sit down and tell him about yourself.

♡ As he makes you spend time in his company, he comes to learn of the fanciful little things you enjoy.

♡ At first, the details are dry and few and far between, with you giving very little about yourself away.

♡ But, as his persistence drags into days, you eventually just start telling him whatever he asks, so long as it’s not too personal.

♡ Or painful.

♡ Whenever the outlaw can see you're starting to become upset, being reminded of your circumstances, he eases up on the personal questions and just asks superficial ones.

♡ “How’re ya feeling today ?” “D’ya eat well this mornin’ ?” “D’ya need me to dust a shelf down or something’ ?”

♡ His miniscule acts of selflessness are extensions of his effort to make you at least not hate him. Though you didn’t know this. His thought process was still an enigma to you.

♡ He also stalks you in his own home.

♡ Listens to you sing while you complete your tasks, your voice the softest thing he’s heard since…well, ever.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who, when he embarks on a hunt, never tells you where or when, and never even the how.

♡ The only clue you’ll ever be given as to his nigh-weekly excursions are trinkets he brings with him. Ones which you thought he’d pawn elsewhere in the county at a later date, or bury in the canyon somewhere.

♡ Until he offers them to you.

♡ At first, you’re not sure what to make of these…gifts ?

The first time he gave you one, he said nothing, only watching you.

♡ You swore you could see his shoulders heaving beneath his jacket, something almost feral in his demeanour. Pressurising.

♡ And, with the possibility of what could happen to you should you decline these acts of…generosity…You just take them, uttering a quiet “Thank you,” before putting them in a kitchen cabinet, unsure of the intent behind them.

♡ The first few times this happened, you were befuddled.

♡ Yet, with how gently the Outlaw placed them in your hands, with how intense his gaze was, even though you couldn’t see it beneath the permanent shadow across his brow, you could feel it.

♡ It was only one evening when the Outlaw returned with yet more loot that the meaning behind the trinkets became apparent.

♡ His hand disappears into the inside pocket of his jacket, and he withdraws a small box; rounded and bejewelled like an idol. He comes to stand before you, and, shoulders pinned abc and rigid, you swallow. Thickly.

♡ He looks down at the box, and,his finger dragging along the edge, slowly, he relinquishes it to you.

♡ And, by pure force of habit, you accept.

♡ You turn the box gingerly between your fingers, the dim candlelight from within the cabin just barely warding off the black of the night, setting the precious stones welded within the metal alight.

♡ “Well,” the Outlaw says, making you jump. You look up at him, eyes wide.

♡ “Open it.”

♡ He says it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

♡ Swallowing again, your gaze skitters back to the box.

♡ And, with bated breath, you lift the lid.

♡ A delicate, silver melody slithers from the portal you’ve opened, a serpentine tune wrapping around your mind, vivid, beloved memories riding on its feathered wings.

♡ Your favourite song.

♡ For a moment, one sweet, fragile moment, you’re not here.

♡ You’re back at home, in a warm bed that is yours and yours alone, surrounded by the people who matter most to you, any celebration mankind can conjure not even a whisper of the joy you feel in this scene.

♡ And then, as the wind blows autumn leaves from the human mind, the memory is gone, taken away by reality realising it has neglected you.

♡ You’re looking into nothing now, the apparition of your past slipping from you, your eyes wavered and muffled with…

♡ Tears.

♡ In your periphery, just outside the realm of reality you’re returning to, the Outlaw’s drilling gaze drops from you to the floor ina  rare show of anticipation. A hand comes to the back of his neck, where he squeezes the skin. A stress ball.

♡ “Do you…” he begins, “Do ya like it ?”

♡ Your stare inches from the void up to the outlaw’s hidden face.

♡ Perhaps if he had a discernible human feature, you could sense anticipation there. But as it stood, this was no man, but a phantom.

♡ One which must have heard and remembered that tune you often sang while completing chores.

♡ You couldn’t take it.

♡ To have him acknowledge the memory – to make it more real – nailed your coffin shut.

♡ And you broke down.

♡ When you crumpled into a pile, the Outlaw took a step back, one hand reaching for his holster; a knee-jerk reaction.

♡ And what little solace he could offer came in a most inconspicuous display.

♡ The Outlaw got to one knee, now at your level.

♡ And, with a careful hand, he placed a gloved finger upon your shoulder. Then another. Then another.

♡ Spidery and unfamiliar, foreign, the Outlaw’s actions were jerky, janky, an unoiled machine. But he was trying.

♡ When his hand lay against the curve of your shoulder, you did not move. Did not shunt him off or scream at him to let go.

♡ You remained where you were, weeping into your shirt apron.

♡ And the Outlaw, with a fiery grip encircling his heart, feeling brewing in his centre, stronger than all those implicatures and desires. This was solid, unlike the quicksand foundations upon which the Outlaw’s every emotion was built upon.

♡ Was this…

♡ Empathy ?

♡ His grip on your shoulder tightened, the revelation swarming through him like locusts.

♡ He swallowed. Tried thinking through the orchestra in his mind.

♡ “S’okay,” he said. To you, and to himself. His fingers moved gently, your skin and muscle warm through the leather of his gloves. “You’re okay.”

♡ Things changed after that.

♡ He no longer forced you to sleep in the same bed as him, instead bringing back with him a fine silk cover from one of his trips, gifting it to you.

♡ Yet, you still chose to sleep in the same bed as him.

♡ “It’ll be getting cold soon,” you said. “WIth winter coming, and all.”

♡ And, while this new feeling, raw and fresh, was…nice compared to the emptiness that often lingered in his chest, the Outlaw couldn’t help but feel weakened by this influx of emotion.

♡ When he tried to have his alone time with his thoughts of you, he felt…wrong.

♡ Ashamed.

–

♡ You were used to him disappearing for days at a time. Hell, you'd come to expect it at this point in your captivity.

♡ But something about tonight felt...off.

♡ Not that you'd ever admit it, even to yourself, but with the amount of time you'd spent together these last few months, you no longer hated being in his company.

♡ In fact, on the days he would be gone from the early hours of the morn to the late hours of the evening, you could even say you...missed it.

♡ And, unfortunately, despite your every instinct swaying you otherwise, you find that to be the case now.

♡ But, more than that, you're concerned. Something you'd never thought you'd feel for a murderer, a thief. Your kidnapper.

♡ And your pacing, your lip-chewing, your nail-biting are all proven justified when the Outlaw slams against the front door, stumbling through.

♡ At first, you just watch, ready to yell, to ask where he's been the last few days, until you see it.

♡ A bloodied handprint on the door.

♡ He staggers in, swaying on uneven footing, his breathing stifled,as if through a thin straw. He wheezes, collapsing into the doorframe beside him.

♡ And you rush to him. As if he wasn't the one who put you here to begin with. As if whatever's bringing him to his knees now wasn't justified, provoked.

♡ But you don't think of any of that, your mind filled only with the fact that nobody knows you're out here. Without guidance, you'd be dead before you reached the edge of the canyon encompassing your hiding place.

♡ You needed him alive.

♡ After wrestling him onto his bed, almost buckling beneath his weight, you found the source of his downfall.

♡ A wound; bullet-bitten and bleeding, a rouge flower burgeoning with the promise of extinction.

♡ You tried getting him to talk, to tell you what to do. But his voice was barely a whisper, instead using what little seeping strength that remained to point to a cabinet.

♡ Inside, you found what you knew would be needed to heal him. Whether it – you – could save him, though, was another story.

♡ You tried taking his bandana off to see if he was hurt elsewhere, but to no avail. Despite the life draining from his body, he somehow found it in himself to stop you, to place a gloved, trembling hand atop yours, an imploring aura to the gesture.

♡ Don't.

♡ And, for the first time, beneath the dim light of the cabin, you could see something human on him.

♡ It existed only in the form of a shimmer beneath the shadow of his hat, his face still very much obscured, yet the emotions on it were not.

♡ You recognised this emotion, for you'd worn it yourself, both inwardly and out, for the last three months.

♡ Fear.

♡ In its purest and most carnal form.

♡ And a voice, strained with either agony or disuse.

♡ “Help me.”

♡ Throughout the night, you tended to Outlaw's wound. A maw-like, gaping thing it was, spouting blood as one would bucket water out of a sinking boat.

♡ Luckily, you didn't have to worry about shrapnel; the bullet went clean through outlaw's side, leeaving only the aftermath and not the instigator. You managed to stop the bleeding, use the stitching on Outlaw's shirt (which was basically yours now) to sew the wound closed.

♡ For the first time, Outlaw was uncharacteristically human.

♡ Sure, you'd seen the scars on his back when he bathed, the many brushes with death he'd encountered, some advancing into a dance, much like this night's escapade had been.

♡ But you knew, somewhere, somehow, that without another pair of hands here, Outlaw likely wouldn't have pulled through.

♡ Not this time.

♡ And now, here you sat, at Outlaw's beck and call, his bedside your new home.

♡ You watched over him, the cabin silent, the night just as quiet. Even the crickets seemed to chirp quieter, either out of fear or respect for the almost dearly departed.

♡ And, looking up from the massacre on the bed, your gaze swept the room. And you realise something.

♡ The front door, which neither you, nor Outlaw locked, is unguarded.

♡ Yandere outlaw is riddled with sleep, his agony having stripped him of his energy and his strength.

♡ So...why hadn't you tried to escape yet ?

♡ Looking over at Outlaw, sound asleep, you realised just how easy it would be to walk out that door.

♡ Sure, you might get lost. Might die of hypothermia during the freezing hours of a dessert night, but with enough layers, food and water, you saw no reason as to why you couldn't just leave right now.

♡ After all, it wasn't like you'd be killing Outlaw if you left. Sure he might die of infection, or blood loss if his stitches come undone. But you'd at least tried to help him. So your conscience wasn't going to be the issue.

♡ So what was stopping you ?

♡ Looking back at the Outlaw, you felt strange.

♡ The urge to protect him, to care for him, outweighed even your greatest notion of escape, which explained why the thought to do so hadn't hit you until just now.

♡ You bit your lip, looking between Outlaw and the door.

♡ Both options were tantilisingly easy to pursue, and yet only one would be available to you, the other perishing if you ignored it.

♡ Maybe hours passed. Maybe it was mere minutes.

♡ But watching the Outlaw sleep, at his most vulnerable, with his pleading “Help me,” rattling around in your mind, the choice already seemed to be made for you. You just didn't want to tell yourself exactly why. 

♡ So...you stayed.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Yandere Masterpost Masterpost

[eyesxxyou]

I saw one fic abt sucking hobies dick while he’s smoking a joint, and just imagine fucking him while high?? ughhhhh I’m melting rn 🙏

*ೃ˚ :💿 high sex with hobie

❝ warnings ❞ back shots, smoking while fucking, weed for all the sticklers, reader fucks themselves on him, save a horse, ride a cowboy, blowing smoke in reader's mouth, playing of Me and Your Mama' by Childish Gambino

Fucking Hobie while you're both high is a fucking mind blowing experience. It's slow and passionate but also so filthy. It's probably someone other than your bedroom, most likely the living room (whatever the equivalent of that on his canal boat is) because you two can't keep your hands off of each other long enough to get somewhere better suited for your activities.

Hobie would keep the joint between his lips, have you with your knees in the cushions and your arms against the back of the couch while he stands behind you. He has the ashtray on the curve of your back, tapping off the excess ashes while he fucks you from behind in slow, lazy strokes.

Occasionally he'll take it from his lips, hold it between his long, slender fingers, and exhale deeply as he grabs ahold of your hips and fucks you a little harder, dragging something of a needy cry from you, your back arching a little more. Your mind is all fuzzy, hazy. Your body is more relaxed, more willing to take him as he slides in and out of your creamy, messy hole.

But he won't do all the work, he'll stop, slap your ass, and tell you, "go 'head 'n take i', luv. Take wha's yours." Hobie would watch you fuck yourself on his dick, humming in approval as your walls stretch around him and tremble. "Look back, look a' yaself." He'd say and make you look back, watch yourself take the length and girth of his cock while the ashtray wobbles unevenly on your ass.

"Don' le' I' fall now. Don' wanna make a mess do ya?" He'd ask and tap off some more ashes, watching the way your bite your bottom lip and ease yourself down to sink all the way down the the hilt and take all of him.

If you're riding him, he'll blow smoke into your mouth and pass the joint between the two of you. Your eyes all red, staring into each other's. His large hands control the way your hips move, creamy wetness coating his cock in an white ring at the back of his length. Hobie's breathy moans marked by smoke that slides across your breasts. "Jus' like tha', my pretty baby."

Orgasms while high is like having an out of body experience. It shakes your entire frame, makes you feel like you entire world is falling apart and then piecing itself back together. Your nails dig into each other's skin, your moans are deep and rattle-y. He'll buck his hips into you because he simply can't help it, all those muscles spasming.

Oh and 'Me and Your Mama' by Childish Gambino is definitely playing lowly in the background, no doubt about it.

[judasgot-it]

Hey! I Hope You’re doing well, I just wanted to request a prompt real quick!! :)

If it’s not too much of an issue, can you do Ango when he gets home to his s/o after a really rough and long day, and reader just offers comfort to him, making sure he’s alright and he ends up crying.

If you don’t think this is a really good idea you can disregard it, anyways, thank you and have a good day/night! <3

DW if you think your idea isn't 'good' - this is an x reader blog, this is the writing equivalent of going to wafflehouse at 3 am and being served by a raccoon. There are no bad ideas here <3.

But back on that angst GRIND sorry bout the late response btw I was traveling and then I had college but >_<

Scenario: Comforting Ango after a long day at work. TW: Men crying, Dark era

Ango felt his eyes burn in his sockets from exhaustion. His neck strained to keep his head up as he stared ahead at the screen.

This was his usual if anyone asked.

He was one of the best there was. He had memorized almost every file he had come across - it was frightening, considering he only needed it for a moment. He could work like a machine.

But it had to eventually catch up with him.

He wasn't ready to stop working. He could type with his eyes closed - which he was currently doing so they could rest, if just for a second.

When the next thing he'd known, he was there. There.

The smoke, the heat on his skin. There was a voice he knew but couldn't make out the face of.

Someone was shaking him, vaguely he was aware that it was a dream but he couldn't open his eyes. He felt completely frozen.

Ango was stuck.

There was a man telling him that he had trust in him, with brown hair and blue eyes - older than he should have. Ango remembered him looking like a child.

He missed how he smiled like one - here, he was only able to give him a small tilt of the lips. He trusted Ango though, clearly, from how close he was. Burning.

The shaking had gotten rougher, there was a voice he couldn't place. A young woman who didn't belong in a bombing, who wasn't there at the bar.

Ango knew she didn't belong there. Her hand shook his shoulder, which rocked the glasses that sat on the bar.

He was back at Lupin's.

The man from the bombing wasn't there. He was supposed to be - a seat was there for him, with a drink he knew he loved. Whiskey, with ice that was melting too quickly.

But instead it was Ango, alone -

, and Dazai.

Dazai was saying something, angry at him.

He remembers how his face had twisted so horribly that day. Like out of a horror movie he had watched you once -

But Dazai wasn't saying the words he had said.

It was that woman's voice.

The next thing he knew, he was up.

He had stepped into reality, seeing a young woman staring at him, rather concerned.

She wasn't Dazai.

She was staring at him, blinking at him with large, doe-like eyes.

Her long dark hair was in a neat bun, and her clothes were actually appropriate for the government building they were in.

A normal person. Who for some reason was waking him up, concerned about him right now.

"Ango. You need to leave, there's a fire evacuation right now."

Oh.

He never registered that noise until now.

That wasn't the bomb.

Just a fire alarm.

Ango rubbed his eyes tiredly, feeling how his eyes were wet. Was he crying? His hand pulled away days worth of dead skin on his oily skin.

He needed a shower.

"Ango."

"I know, I know. I'm leaving. I think -"

Ango stood up, his vision spotting as he stared around the room. It was nearly empty, with his computers and the damn ringing surrounding the two of them.

"I think I'm gonna go home right now."

"What?"

The intern looked at him, trying to hide how baffled she was. This was most likely the first time he has voluntarily left his desk since she had started working there. This would be shocking for her.

"Just let everyone else deal with it. Don't worry."

"Oh. Well um. Have a good day, then?"

Ango stared past her, his walk down the hallway was aimless. Automatic. He knew the way, but only through muscle memory.

"Yeah. I hope you do as well."

That's the response he knew he should give. But he could barely croak it out of his throat.

Really, he just wanted to scream. Maybe cry. Something more than the monotone feeling he was locked in.

-

The ringing never left his ears. Tinnitus had never left him, which didn't do him good as he walked alone. Even as he stepped into his empty apartment, all he could focus on was the high-pitched wail - like a radio he could never shut off.

It was thanks to gunshots, which he really hadn't had the luxury of hearing in years.

He hadn't held one properly in a while. There wasn't a real need for him to shoot when he was good at his job. It was cushy compared to what he did in the past.

But today felt like years ago.

"Hey."

Ango wouldn't admit that he jumped at hearing your voice from behind him.

Your arms were happy to hold him, your face burying itself into his shoulder. He forgot how cold he was.

"You're home early."

Ango nodded, staring down at his feet as he toed off his shoes. He didn't want to think anymore, not as his face felt a little too hot.

Your hands reached up, pulled at the fabric around his chest.

"Did you decide to finally give yourself a break for a change?"

Your breath was right against the shell of his ear, making it burn.

"Yeah. I guess I did."

He turned around, looking at you. He tried to smile from behind his spectacles, covered in so many smudges he forgot how to see clearly.

Ango could still see your eyes.

"Do I look that miserable?"

He gave a weak laugh, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"You look awful. When was it the last time you slept?"

"I can't remember. Doesn't matter now, does it?"

You shook your head, holding onto his waist firmly.

"No. I think it does. To me it does."

Ango nodded along. A part of him didn't believe you.

That part was burning him alive from the inside, threatening to spill over from his eyes. His throat felt tight, making him eat his dry tongue.

"Let's lay down."

He followed you like a doll. He let you drag him to your shared bedroom, coddling his head to your chest like a prized stuffed toy. To the best of your ability to encircled your body around him, your legs warming up his cold skin.

You took off his glasses, putting them to the side. Gently you tugged your thumbs along his skin, gently massaging his brow bone and the wrinkles you could see slowly forming.

"I love you."

To you it was lighthearted, your voice light as you were more focused on curling your fingers along his hair.

To Ango, those words allowed him to curl into you fully, his face burying into your chest - and despite him trying to stop them, he felt his face get wet and hot with tears, his throat stuttering as noise desperately tried to come out of him.

He was burning.

His scalp was burning as you ran your nails along it. His skin burned as his clothes felt tight and rough in the wrong places.

Somewhere his chest burned, as he held in his sobs. Bile wanted to come up from how hard he held them in, nearly convulsing with the force of them.

He felt you lean down, kissing his forehead.

"You can cry, you know? You're safe here."

Ango forced himself to take a deep breath in before he muffled his scream in your shoulder.

Ango let himself burn, just for a little while.

He was here, and not there.

He had to tell himself that as he forgot the sound of his own voice.

Guess who's back babyyyy >_> anyway I kinda experimented here hope it was jarring I feel like I write a lot of intimacy but no action and such so I wanted to try some variation so excuse it if it's rough, I've never written a dream sequence before

[ace-of-clubs-and-diamonds]

Angel Eyes

What Gabriel lacked in refined skill, he more than made up for with sheer enthusiasm.

Rating: Explicit, NSFW 🔞 Fandom: Malignant 2021 Pairing: Gabriel May x AFAB!Reader Word count: 610 Content warnings: Cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, praise kink, hair-pulling, begging, mild religious themes, accidental denial? I guess?, service top Gabriel, reader is AFAB but gender-neutral AO3 link: Here

Author's Note: Y’all this idea has lived rent free in my brain for so fucking long and it’s about damn time I did something with it. My boy Gabriel has a mouth and a tongue and teeth and fingers. What more do you need? This one is short and sweet but I think it’s enough. Hope y’all enjoy <3

What Gabriel lacked in refined skill, he more than made up for with sheer enthusiasm.

A moan slipped out of your mouth. You buried your burning face into a pillow, even as the action made it harder to catch your shallow, ragged breath. And did little to muffle your next moan. The head between your legs just about purred in response, and the vibration of his voice so close to your cunt had you clenching.

“Fuck, Gabriel.” Your voice came out muffled. “Fuck, you’re good. You’re so fucking good.” You rolled your hips at the same time he placed the flat of his tongue against you. Pleasure surged through your veins. Your fingers twisted into the pillow. “F-fucking hell, God. Fuck.”

Gabriel was shaking almost as much as you were. Shivering and squirming as he ate you out like you were his last fucking meal. Sure, his lack of lips made precision harder. Made it messier, wetter. And his lack of skill only added to that. But God, you were already soaked. And his inexperience just drenched you more, made his eagerness and neediness to prove himself and pleasure you so much better. His tongue lavished your clit, dipped between your lips to drink up your leaking wetness. He spread you out between his fingers to better access you, dipping one in to thrust deep inside as he took your clit between his teeth. You writhed, moaned and chanted his name as if it was something holy, bucked your hips as heat pulsed through your gut. It was delicious, it was wet and sloppy and unskilled and fucking hot. Enough to sustain the pleasure but not enough to get you over the edge.

You don’t think he realized how fucking good that felt, too. The accidental tease, the completely unwitting denial. How the desperation tangled in the arousal heightened it all.

He pulled away, breath ghosting over your cunt. The sight of him between your legs, long hair tangled, eyes wide and glazed over, his other arm curled around your thigh, was enough to send another wave of heat tingling through you. You dropped your head back onto the pillow and sighed. “Please, Gabriel. Please.” Just please. He felt so sinfully good, and you’d gladly burn in hell for the burn of pleasure.

You must’ve spoken some part of that thought – at this point, your brain was practically melting out of your ears, and you couldn’t keep track of what you said out loud and what you didn’t. Because Gabriel pressed his teeth against the inside of your thigh, parted them to lick the skin. His equivalent of a kiss. And his voice rumbled out from the nearby speaker, “But you taste divine.”

God, it was such a saccharine, melodramatic thing to say. It made you want to ride him till you saw stars.

And as if he’d thought the same, his tongue was back on you, both arms wrapped around your thighs and leveraging you for better access. You gasped out as he circled your clit and played with the sensitive nub. Teasing, teasing, teasing. You could cry from how good it was, how good he was. You plunged your fingers into his hair and tugged. Desperately rode his tongue and chased your just-out-of-reach release. Didn’t bother to stop the moans and praise flowing out unbidden. His needy whimpers just made it sweeter, made you grow wetter and burn hotter.

His voice crackled out from the speaker again. “You look–” A broken moan that nearly had you seeing white, “–f-fucking angelic.”

And maybe he was right. How could something that felt this good be considered so sinful?

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Hi wifi! 🥺 I loved your Sea Monster Foul Legacy. And just wanted to continue a bit coz it's so good?

I imagine that reader is a marine biologist, particularly interested in rare and dangerous deep sea abyssal creatures. Childe might have humanoid features, especially his face. What if during certain periods - let's say once a month - he sheds his mask as a way of regenerating new tissue or something. Reader comes to visit his exhibit after a very tiring day. Childe has been swimming around his tank, showing his new moves to his most dedicated visitor. But he noticed that your eyes were closing. He chirped in inquiry, the equivalent of his hands against the thick glass. No - your head was flopping to the side. He wanted to be there with you to make sure you don't hit your head. Soon though, you've fallen asleep. And since it's so dark and people were usually terrified of Childe, the aquarium staff didn't bother checking his exhibit for lost patrons. They just locked up for the night.

You opened your eyes and winced at the discomfort and pain radiating from your neck. You've fallen asleep on the hard bench in the exhibit. You checked the time in panic and sure enough, it was midnight. A few feet in front of you, Childe did a flip, his massive wings stretching. Chirps of joy followed soon after. But there's something different with him. There were jagged cracks across his red face, like scars that didn't heal. You rushed up to the glass, held out your hand close to him in concern. On the other side, Childe mimicked you, his hand aligned with yours but much more bigger and violet. You were saying something, lips moving fast. He can't quite catch all of them but he knew there was concern. He wanted to tell you it's okay, demonstrating it instead with a flip. Just as he finished the movement, the red mask on his face broke away from his flesh. In its place was a humanoid face with piercing deep blue eyes, reminiscent of the ocean.

-Macchiato

MACCHI MACCHI HIIIII I MISSED YOU HOW ARE YOUUUUU :D this is SO yummy and tasty omnomnomnm

you cry out in alarm when Childe's mask- his face- cracks and breaks away, but the sound quickly dies in your throat when two vibrantly azure eyes blink back at you, and Childe tilts his head when you suddenly dart towards the stairwell that leads to the top of his exhibit. he follows you of course, surfacing with a delighted chirp and immediately laying his head on your lap, his fin-like ears fluttering in excitement- this is the first time he's been this close to you, because although you're by far his favorite person, you were never permitted to actually touch Childe much to both of your dismay. the water he splashed up completely soaked your shoes and pants, but you don't mind at all in this moment, gently stroking his damp hair and thumbing the little scales on his new cheeks

when you press your palm against his skin, you can see Childe's pupils dilate as he leans heavily against your hand- no one, not even the people who usually handle him, have ever treated him this gently, especially not when he sheds. the other employees tend to leave him alone during this time for fear of him being more irritable, but the sensation of you cupping his cheek, delicately holding his new, soft skin has him melting and never wanting to let you go. and if you scratch behind his horns (they don't shed)? he's in HEAVEN, his tail blissfully smacking the water and quiet trills slipping from his mouth. of course, the plating on his face begins to grow back after a day or two, but now he looks forward to shedding his mask just to feel you gently hold him again (even if technically you're not supposed to be interacting with him that closely)

[ficfanatictrf]

REQUEST:

I broke my nintendo 2ds as a kid and I BARELY found it today after a billion years and the screen Is all cracked and broken.... can I get a little fluff for viktor with an s/o who's bring them a in universe equivalent to a Nintendo ds?? To him and they ask him if he can fix up the broken system? I LOVE YOUR VIKTOR SO MUCH SKWMMQMQMQMW

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

For some reason I put this in drafts and it ate it up- I am so sorry for this not being edited completely correct as the request is gone Dx

Repair

Summary: When it feels like everything is falling apart, you go to the one person you hope will be able to fix everything.

Word Court : 3k

It had been a random purchase from a store. As you had walked past the store window, the item had caught your eye with just how different and alien it had seemed to you. Not wasting a minute, you slipped in and asked the shopkeeper about the item, it being a rare invention from the east. 

It played simple games. There was one that was similar to a version of chess, a card game that you had never seen before as well as a few other simple and anxiety relieving games. What you had bought on a whim had quickly become a staple of your life. However, the old thing was something you were rather private and maybe even a little embarrassed about with how childish and old it was - especially when you were in the city of progress, where they were focused on creating bigger, better, sleeker products. 

So for years, you kept your cherished item secret. 

 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

That morning, everything had been going wrong. 

From tripping over your blanket in the morning and hitting your forehead on the cabinet, it developed quickly into a ugly knot. The bus you usually took to work was over a half hour late, making you late for work. However, instead of your co-workers being worried about your forehead or why you were late, they had been upset and angry. 

So, in the hopes to keep from crying in front of your peers, you had slipped out the back into a side alley to use your treasured item to try and keep yourself from losing it. 

As you put your hand in your bag, you felt the little jagged pieces of glass, the harsh edges of metal that shouldn’t have been there. And as you took out the item in question, you felt the last shred of sanity slip away. 

You would regret it the moment you did it, but in your anger and frustration at the situation that you found yourself in, you threw the device as hard as you could against the side of the building. 

Instead of feeling relief, the tears finally slipped free as you picked up the pieces of the broken device. Not even caring about the odd looks you got from your co-workers, you simply called out to your boss that you were heading home for the day before heading anywhere but that place. 

Screw your embarrassment, screw your fucking pride - there was only one person right now that you knew could help. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Viktor’s lab was just as perfect as you remembered. As you slipped through the door, you could feel your anger and frustration melt away as you saw the scene that you had witnessed so many times before. 

In the soft warm light of the sun being filtered through the thin blinds, you took in the sight of the man you had been crushing on for years as he mumbled equations to himself. It was adorable, cute, as he hadn’t even noticed your presence, not till you were standing right beside his desk. 

Amber eyes flickered to your for a second, double-taking to take you in. The way his pupils dilated, a small smile taking from as he took you in. However, as soon as he caught sight of the angry bump on your head, he was on his feet to get a better look at it. 

“How did this happen? No no, we take care of it first” He quickly said, cutting off your reply to his question as he gently coaxed you to sit in the seat that he had just vacated. After hastily grabbing his cane, he was soon rummaging through drawers in search of a few things, heading over to the small sink to dampen a towel that he had gotten in his search. 

In only a few short minutes he was back at your side, softly dabbing the cool cloth to the injury. It was soothing and you couldn’t help but let out a soft hum of satisfaction. 

“Now, tell me what happened, how did you get an injury like this?” He asked softly, it was clear that his attention was only partially on what you were replying and the other half was on how best to treat the situation in front of him. He wasn’t a doctor, not by a long shot, but he had always been rather accident prone and with his health being the way it was, he had learned tips and tricks when it came to these sorts of injuries. 

“...I fell…” You mumbled softly, earning a soft hum of understanding, which turned out to have been more of an absent minded response as his eyes widened before he spoke once more. 

“Wait, fell? When this happened did you feel you lost consciousness for even a second?” He asked, gently guiding your hand to hold the cool cloth to your head, he turned to hastily open a nearby drawer to rummage through it. 

“No, I don’t remember anything like that” You whispered, watching as he produced a flashlight, as he went to turn it on, he grumbled under his breath when it didn’t work. Though, as he continued to look through his drawer, he simply continued his questions. 

“After you hit your head, did you have any odd symptoms? Lose any movement in your limbs for a time, vomiting, feeling abnormally sleepy or a stiff neck? Yes!” Finally finding a flashlight that worked, he was suddenly extremely close to your face, his other hand holding your chin so that he could shine the light between your two eyes. 

“Ah, um…no, no I don’t believe any of those things happened…” Viktor was far too close, with his full attention on you, you couldn’t help the soft blush to slowly rise on your face, hoping that he wouldn’t read into it too deeply. 

After a few moments, seeing that your pupils weren’t acting odd, he let out a relieved sigh and allowed himself to rest back on the desk’s edge. 

“Keep an eye out for any symptoms…I know of some people in the undercity who after hitting their head would end up developing horrible symptoms. It has something to do with hitting their head…though how exactly it happens, I have no idea” 

With a soft nod from you, the two of you settled into a comfortable silence. That was till you remembered the point for your trip there in the first place. 

“Viktor….”

“Yes? Remember something?” He asked, his bright smile only making you feel even more nervous about how he was going to react to the little device you had with you. Surely someone as dedicated to progress would find your attachment to such a thing childish. 

“...well…um….it probably seems silly, you probably will think me stupid-” You started, your eyes watching your own hands as you nervously fidgetted with your fingers. All the while, you didn’t notice how the smile was quickly disappearing from Viktor’s face as he took in what you were saying. 

“This is something important to me, has been for awhile now…but I know that it is probably old and silly…but…c-could you maybe…” Finally, you pulled the pieces of said item out, placing it on the table in front of you. When you went to speak again, your voice was even softer, nervous that he was going to laugh or scold you for having such an item. 

“Could you fix it? Please?” 

And so you waited, expecting at any moment to receive the negative reaction you were expecting. 

However, all you received was silence. Your eyes slowly peaked up to see how the man was reacting. 

Viktor was holding it gingerly in front of his face, with a pensive expression, his eyes taking in every detail as he turned the object. There wasn’t any sign of him thinking this was beneath him or seeing it as funny, he was seriously looking over the damage to see if he could repair it. 

“Looks easy enough. With my other work it might take me a few days, but I should have it in working order by next week. If that would be alright?” He asked, already pulling out his notebook to quickly jot down a few parts that he believed he would need to fix the device in his hands. 

“...What?”

You couldn’t help it, the lack of ridicule as well as his immediate willingness to help. Everything just didn’t seem to be likely and yet it was the very situation that you found yourself witnessing and experiencing. 

Without pause in his writing, he gently set the device back down on his desk. Even as he wrote, his voice was warm and friendly. 

“I am certain that I will be able to fix it. It might take me a few attempts and I might need to try a few different ideas, but I am confident that I will be able to have this functioning like it was previously.” 

Before the part of you that had always kept things professional had a chance to reprimand your desires, your gratefulness won over as you reached out and nearly launched yourself into giving him the tightest hug of your life. 

As you only seemed to tighten your grip, it being the first time you had allowed yourself to get this close to him, you had hardly noticed how he had almost fallen over. As one hand barely kept him upright, the other had softly wrapped around your waist. He could have gotten you off, he could have said something about being too close, but he himself was taking this opportunity and wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

For a few seconds, the two of you simply held the other. Both of you waiting for the other to be the one to call it quits, however, as it appeared the two of you weren’t going to call it quits. 

“Hey, Vik, you got a sec?” 

The two of you quickly broke apart as Jayce entered into the lab, his surprise shifting to a shit eating grin as he took in how awkward and close the two of you were. 

“Or, are the two of you busy? I can always come back another time so the two of you can, well, study chemistry together” 

Gods, you were embarrassed. Quickly making your way to the door, you only paused in the doorway to glance back at the man who was still half leaning, half laying on the desk. 

“T-Take care and thank you. I greatly appreciate it” 

As you hastily retreated, Viktor had gotten to his feet to roughly elbow the man in the stomach. While you were under the impression that Jayce was picking on you for your crush on the other half of hextech, Viktor had the exact same assumption. Jayce being the only one that knew that the two of you were mutually pining over the other. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It was nearly two weeks before you had a chance to stop by Viktor’s lab again. He had sent you a pneumatic tube message to invite you to the lab for you to see the progress he had made days ago, but you had been far too nervous to return after how the two of you had left things. 

So, as you slowly took the steps up to his lab, you couldn’t help but pause at the landing, finding that you needed a moment before heading down the hall to his lab. 

“You’re finally here!” 

At the voice behind you, you felt a wave of panic shot through you, slowly turning to find Viktor heading up the stairs behind you. He was carrying a coffee in his hand, which explained why he wasn’t currently in the lab. 

“I was starting to worry you hadn’t received my correspondence.” 

As he joined you on the landing to his lab. His warm smile faltered slightly, nervously glancing down at the coffee in his hand before holding it out towards you. 

“My apologies, if I had known you were planning on visiting I would have ordered you one as well. Please, take mine.” 

“No, I..I couldn’t-” 

“I insist” 

Hesitantly, you took the cup, noting how from the stain on the lip of the cup that Viktor had already had a portion of the coffee already. At the knowledge that his lips had touched it, it just made the nervousness to drink from it grow tenfold. All the while, Viktor was keeping a close eye on if you would drink it or not, wanting the same outcome that you yourself wished for. 

As you took a sip from the cup, you could have sworn that you heard a sharp intake of breath from the man with you, glancing over to find that he was as calm as ever and looking off to the side out the window. 

Taking another sip, the two of you started to make your way, Viktor soon seeming to radiate with excitement. 

“So, the device that you brought was like nothing I had worked on before. I was able to deconstruct it to see how it worked, finding a few mechanisms that I had never contemplated before. I greatly enjoyed being able to tinker with such an unknown invention” 

Picking up his pace, he held the door open for you. When you entered, the man went to his desk where he had your device on his desk. 

As you took in how perfect it looked, you had to struggle to keep your grip steady on the flimsy cup, finding yourself nearly in tears as the one thing that you believe was broken forever looked far better than it had before it had been shattered. 

“I was able to update it. With its age, the wiring and circuit board had been needing an upgrade. With the added benefit of a new screen, well updated screen, as well as a proper cleaning and new hardware, I am certain that this should work better than it had before.” 

Gingerly, Viktor took the coffee cup from your hand to set it down on the desk, before just as carefully placing the device into your outstretched hands. 

It felt far lighter and it looked a lot cleaner. As you turned it on and watched the screen go through the startup sequence, you felt like you wanted to cry from relief. Actually, from how blurry everything was becoming you really were crying from the emotions circulating through you. 

“I also was able to add a game of my own…with the extra week that I had to mess around, I wanted to try my hand at creating a game I played a lot in my childhood” He softly mumbled, pressing a few buttons till you saw a game that had never been there previously. 

The title was in a language that you couldn’t make out and as it opened, it was clearly created by Viktor as it had all his signature trademarks all over it. The generally symmetrical artwork, the gold details, even the slightly adorable way that he wrote a few of his letters. Everything that was so clearly him was in the game. 

“It is a simple game, the letters correspond with numbers. You don’t need to understand the language to be able to play it…but once you complete the three levels I was able to create, it will have a surprise in store for you” 

It was all too much, everything that Viktor had done for you was beyond anything you had even hoped for. But this time, when you reached out to cling to the man, he was prepared, pulling you closer as you quickly sunk into his warmth. 

“....what would I ever do without you? How can I repay you…you have no idea how much it means to me that you were able to salvage it.” 

“Be without a coffee, that is for sure” The man teased, softly rubbing calming circles into your back. “I meant it though, I enjoyed being able to work on it.” 

Slowly, with you finally feeling a bit calmer and having the one thing that always kept you sane back in your possession, everything finally felt like everything was how it was meant to be. 

“Thank you…truly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for fixing it..” 

With a small smile, his hands moving to rest atop his cane, he merely smiled at your thankfulness. 

“It was honestly my pleasure.”

As you headed out, Viktor had been about to call after you for not taking the coffee with you…but as he watched you exit through the door he decided not to. It would be his own chance to have an indirect kiss, just like you had earlier. 

Sitting back down in his chair, he glanced out the window to watch your retreating form. All the while his smile grew wider as he looked forward to seeing your reaction to the little surprise he had set up in the game for it. 

The game was his way of confessing, the letters being in his own language. Once you got to the end, it would give you a key to how to translate everything. From there, it would be easy to interpret the opening game menu. 

‘As I have mended this, you have mended me. My heart is yours, forevermore - V’

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Alright. So funny story at the end for those of you that read through the whole thing. When I was in middle school, 7th grade (I believe 2004-2005) I had a Nintendo DS that I adored. My family was not the mots well off at the time, so to have something like that was magical. I brough it with me to school for a sports day (one day out of the year where our school would have races and team events, ect. We had to participate in at least one, but for the rest of the time we were able to spectate and just spend time outdoors.). I had brought it with me because I knew that if I sat around I would get bored.... only for a teacher to get upset that I 'wasn't paying attention'. The teacher took it and said that I could get it back at the end of the day.

I was pissed...but whatever, I am a kid, I can't really do anything about it.

Flash forward to the end of the day, I go to her office to get the DS and guess what?

She had asked one of the other students to carry her bag to her office for her....and my DS was missing.

Because I brought it, they deemed that they weren't liable for it, that because I brough it against the rules - I was at fault and thus they didn't have to pay my parents for it to be replaced.

Well- I am almost 30 (I'm 29) now, I never got a replacement. Nor have I ever played on one again.

[dark-elf-writes]

Siren Naruto that meets Kisame and they both do the Sup nod before freezing.

Kakashi and Genma being rly unsure if they can feed Naruto sea food because siren+fish=cannibalism? But when they try it Naruto’s eyes go huge and just when they think he’s going to cry he grabs a crab leg off a plate bites right through the shell. That day he is the most settled they’ve seen him.

The thought of Naruto going for a “quick swim” then coming back out three hours later with a legendary blade, a treasure chest, and a pretty rock is hilarious.

Kurama being lowkey disgusted that he, the greatest of the foxes, is stuck in a glorified fish. He never wanted to know what the bottom of the sea looked like but apparently that doesn’t matter. He is very huffy for quite a while but admittedly fond of how his jinchuriki at least shakes the water off himself like a fox.

Naruto going through a phase where he thinks his whiskers are like a catfish not the giant demon fox in his gut. He refuses to listen to anyone that says otherwise.

Naruto is delighted with both translations of his name. To him fishcake and maelstrom are equally respectable.

Baby naruto with the scariest mfing cry ever. It’s just so pretty and haunting and no fucking thank you at 3am. Alternatively, his laugh is a very nice sound (like a HP phoenix trill) and calms down whoever hears it. Maybe it legitimately helps ease some trauma. On an unrelated note, Kakashi gets something that could be vaguely considered therapy adjacent for the first time in his entire existence.

Naruto seeing Kisame and just “Fish Friend” and both Genma and Kakashi age like twenty years because their kid just adopted a missing nin and what the fuck are they supposed to do now.

The image of Kakashi and Genma arguing about whether Naruto eating fish is cannibalism and Kakashi eventually just kinda shrugs like “Fish eat fish!” For years Genma uses that to end every argument because it’s the stupidest fucking thing he’s ever heard but also true so.

Little Naruto, soaking wet, holding a jar full of a chemical mixture that probably classifies as a bomb: I founded this :D

SCREAMING Naruto loudly proclaiming himself to be a catfish and when someone snorts like “okay fox demon” he gets the child equivalent of Big Mad all pouting cheeks and stomping feet as he says “Well if I was a fox why is my name Fishcake huh???” And tbh no one can argue with that logic. (Not that they particularly want to as Genma is glaring and chewing on his senbon in a way that very much implies they are about to become target practice and god only knows where Kakashi is currently hunting them from.)

Wait wait sobbing Naruto seeing/feeling that Kakashi is sad and humming to him or something and it’s like all the tension melts out of Kakashi’s shoulders and the guilt that threatens to crush him most days becomes almost bearable. On days that Kakashi is particularly broody Genma instigates a tickle fight with Naruto just to get the kid cackling and to make Kakashi feel better before tossing a hyper fish child at him to deal with. Just Naruto being essentially an antidepressant on two legs.

[anechomirrored]

Prompt: "Is it over? Is it really over?"

Fandom: Fnaf Security Breach, The Other Side of Justice AU

Rating: T

Warnings: violence, minor character death, robot equivalent of gore, profanity, shock.

When Moon and Sun had opened their detective agency neither of them had expected to be involved in police work. They were a private investigations office after all, but in a city where the police were stretched thin, the two of them had been called upon more and more to assist. At first they helped with intel. Putting together information for trials and other back office prep work. As markets dipped and man and machine became desperate, they found themselves taking on more involved assignments. Now they were being called in to take witness accounts at the scene of petty thefts and carjackings. A phone call was almost expected now. There was no shortage of work that they could do on the behalf of the badges. Much of this work was a far cry from what they should be doing but if the Chief approved the papers then Sun and Moon could be assigned the task.

Had Moon ever known that their direct assistance with the police would lead them to this moment, then perhaps he would have discouraged Sun's enthusiasm for it long ago.

There was little this hindsight could do for him now.

As the baton came crashing down on his shoulder Moon knew that they were in trouble.

The two of them had been tailing an embezzler. Nothing too intense. The job had been to follow, locate the perp and report back.

Simple.

Finding people was one of their specialties.

This mug wasn't a one of their civillian marks. He had expected them, or someone at least, if his pack of brickhouse goons were anything to go by. Three of them were equipped with shock batons too.

Moon swore as several hundred volts coursed through his wires. His systems picking up in an attempt to expend the energy before it melted his insides.

His construction was tough, but too many hits like that could cause serious damage.

He swung with his free hand and caught one of the assailants under the ribs. The man went down with a pained grunt.

Seeing this, the one who'd struck with the baton doubled his efforts. He lunged, swinging the electric prod with fervor. Moon dodged and using the brute's own momentum, sent him crashing to the ground as well.

The victory was short lived, however; as a crowbar hooked Moon's shoulder and yanked. The heavy iron prongs found purchase, pulling at the metal joints until they ground apart. A garbled screech left Moon's voicebox as he clawed at his attackers.Then there was a sickening crunch. The loss of connectivity was instant and his arm fell limp at his side.

"Moon!" Sun screeched, he threw his own attacker to the side, abruptly.

Grabbing the arms of two more attempting to block his way Sun sent them spinning into one another and into the brick wall of the alleyway.

Moon took another few swings at those still between him and Sun. How were there still so many?

Another shock made his vision go monochrome. His auditory systems studdered as he fought to remain standing. A sharp whine starting up as the electrical current wreaked havoc on his processors.

Sun cursed loudly only adding to the surrealism of Moon's newfound state. Everything seemed to slow, his vision darkened only to return in such sharp detail that it hurt.

One minute he was watching Sun fight his way towards him, the next the world went dark again and another brute was swinging one of those damning batons at his head. With the way the world kept flickering, Moon wasn't sure he could handle a third hit with one of those. He staggered back, but it wasn't enough to dodge.

His vision faltered once more and then Sun was there.

His eyes shone with cold clinical white light, a hand encircling the human's throat. A crunch of his bones and the angles became all wrong. Moon watched in flickering snapshots as the human brute dropped lifelessly to the ground.

Then Sun was there again.

His usual grin was tight, a grimace. He looked from the human back to Moon and then he reached out.

"Moon? Snap out of it! Brother, we gotta-"

Shock batons.

One hit Sun in the chest hard enough to crack the casing over his chassis. The other struck him in the back of the faceplate, where that delicate bundle of wires lay terribly exposed.

Sun convulsed violently and dropped. His still reaching hand ghosting over Moon's coat buttons on the way down.

Moon followed, dropping to his knees. The risidual electricty made touching Sun hurt, but Moon still made an effort to roll him over with his one good arm.

The heavy tromp of boots heralded their mark's approach. He wasn't a large man but with Moon hunched over Sun, it afforded the weasly rat the chance to look down his nose at them. His smile was sickening.

"Ah, gotta love the smell of burning circuitry in the evening! Just a bunch of walking scrap piles, aren't you? Poking around where you don't belong, acting like you can do better. You think you can fix this trash fire of a city?" He brandished one of the batons at Moon, "You fucking can't."

Laughter rose up from those still able to do so. There were still too many for him to take alone.

The mark preened at the support and continued.

"Quite frankly, it's exactly what those sops in city hall deserve. To watch it all crashing down around them." Moon watched on in silence, his auditory systems were touch and go.

He should say something, do something, but he couldn't stop staring at the dark stains soaking through Sun's jacket.

Is it over? Is it really over?

Moon squeezed his optics shut. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

He struggled to focus, his voicebox failing to emit anything but angry static.

A sharp sound echoed off the brick walls and then repeated. the repetition was slow and deliberate.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

The monologue stopped. Moon lifted his head in the direction and the remaining humans turned to face the mouth of the secluded alley.

A looming figure towered over the goons. An animatronic. The rays circulating their head had moon looking down at Sun in confusion. There weren't too many clelestials like them around. The slow clap continued with the strange bot's approach. A few of the men stepped back.

"Ah, gentleman! Don't stop your tirade on my account. I do love an angry mob." Once the celestial bot came in range, a baton struck him square in the chassis.

They locked up for a moment and then calmly grasped the handle, ripping it away from it's wielder. A small edging of static was the only sign they'd hit the towering animatronic at all.

"What the fuck-" the shout was cut short as the baton was snapped effortlessly in two.

"Hmm, not much for manners are we?"Those large cat-like optics stared the group of now shaken humans down with a twisted excitement.

"If you leave now, I'll let you." They said, stopping in front of the now trembling mark, "Stay and I'll turn you into scrap."

[stiricidewrites]

The Damage You Do: ch 24, pt 3

L.J. was briefly mentioned in chapter 13. They're the leader of the group's financial division, who lwj is hoping doesn't learn about his new sub anytime soon.

Unfortunately, my keyboard broke, and I had to order a new one. I'm not sure how my sketchy glue repair will hold up yet, so I might not post until the new one arrives, hopefully by Tuesday.

Previously

~

Now was for winding wwx up, for digging his nails into the man’s flesh, for making him beg or cry or melt into the floor—even he wasn’t sure. Scenes with wwx were like tornados, unpredictable and wild, every bit of planning flooding out of his head the moment the man’s eyes were on him, the moment his hands were on that body. It had been like that from the first moment they met, the man snapping his self-control like it had never existed to begin with.

It was dangerous.

It was intoxicating.

It was addicting.

wwx’s breath shuddered as lwj’s hips pressed into his ass, the man’s glutes flexing so hard he could feel it through their bottoms. Fuck, that ass. He wanted to bury himself in it. His dick, his face, his entire arm. He knew wwx was going to be a size queen—the word nhs had once told him meant the bottom liked things big. lwj had had no desire to know there was a specific word for such people, but when nhs wanted to tell you something, there was no getting around it. He also knew what a pillow princess was thanks to his pimp, and was quite certain wwx also fit that description—or whatever the gay equivalent was—to some extent, what with how overwhelmed he became during sex.

There was also no getting information out of nhs when they didn’t want to tell you, either, unfortunately, and the Nie heir was still avoiding his phone calls. Eventually, he was going to have to track the little menace down personally—he was under no circumstances sending anyone other than L.J., his cousin or himself to find nhs. For one, they wouldn’t be able to find them, and for another, nhs was dangerous, even if certain people—namely both of their older brothers—still saw them as an innocent baby.

lwj almost snorted at that thought as he manhandled wwx around the mat, the man turning into a limp doll that he had to repeatedly remind still had muscles that needed to be used if he was going to get any benefit out of this.

nhs had never been a baby, nor had they ever been innocent. Even when they were children, the Nie heir had been scheming and planning, ripping his childhood enemies to shreds without anyone being any the wiser. Anyone, except lwj, L.J. and his cousin, and that had likely been an accident (it was always a little hard to tell if accidents involving nhs were actually accidents). He couldn’t exactly say the four of them were friends, each of them too careful with people outside their own groups to consider themselves that, but they were close enough that lwj was sure that once he got his hands on the little bitch—

“Lan-laoshi~” his sub whined, blinking watery eyes up at him. “Can we move now?”

lwj blinked slowly down at the beautiful man, every instinct inside him screaming to wreck him. Take him right there on the mat and make him scream.

“Yes, wy,” he said, pulling both of them backwards. His feet settled under him, his hips pushing upwards as he dragged wwx into Adho Mukha Śvānāsana.

[knightinink]

Pip’s Psychological Horror Nightmare

This is just some quick concept art for now, but I wanna turn this into an actual piece. A lot of this is taken from the GE narrative, but I’m putting it in the SP world equivalent because I can. Pip is in the foyer of the Satis House, & just EVERYTHING is on fire. Upon the wall are melting portraits of his father, his mother, & his six deceased siblings. Some are enraged & screaming at him, some are sobbing. All of his brothers passed in their infancy, so the sound of five babies crying is added to the cacophony of noises. 

Estella is unseen, but her voice carries through the house, screaming insults & curses at the boy as he runs. He hears Magwitch (his convict) creeping around, his shackles rattling around as he darts behind gravestone to gravestone, keeping a watchful eye on Pip.

A sudden shrill, piercing wail sounds from up the stairs, & Pip rushes up there & through the burning doorway once he reaches the top, & is met with the sight of Miss Havisham bursting into flames. Much like he did in the 1946 version of the film adaptation, Pip rushes to the long dining table & yanks the cover off of it, throwing it as best he can over the still screaming woman, trying to extinguish her. As he does this, his arms & hands become burned horrifically.

He fails in rescuing her, & upon realizing this, Pip sits back on his knees, defeated, before falling over, curling into himself & crying softly.

(Now, I like to imagine this in like the person is literally trapped within their own mind, & someone has to go in after them to rescue them, kinda like that one part from the Undertale comic Dogs of Future Past, where the protagonists are each faced with their own worst memories. Depending on where Pip is living at this point, it will be either Herbert or Damien that gets to him, & are heartbroken upon seeing the usually happy-go-lucky Brit in a depressing heap.)

This is the music that is playing all around while this horrorscape is happening.

[whimsicaldragonette]

ARC Review: Painted Devils by Margaret Owen

Preorder Add to Goodreads

Publication Date: May 16, 2023

Synopsis:

Let’s get one thing straight—Vanja Schmidt wasn’t trying to start a cult. After taking down a corrupt margrave, breaking a deadly curse, and finding romance with the vexingly scrupulous Junior Prefect Emeric Conrad, Vanja had one great mystery left: her long-lost birth family… and if they would welcome a thief. But in her search for an honest trade, she hit trouble and invented a god, the Scarlet Maiden, to scam her way out. Now, that lie is growing out of control—especially when Emeric arrives to investigate, and the Scarlet Maiden manifests to claim him as a virgin sacrifice. For his final test to become a prefect, Emeric must determine if Vanja is guilty of serious fraud, or if the Scarlet Maiden—and her claim to him—are genuine. Meanwhile, Vanja is chasing an alternative sacrifice that may be their way out. The hunt leads her not only into the lairs of monsters and the paths of gods, but the ties of her past. And with what should be the simplest way to save Emeric hanging over their heads, he and Vanja must face a more dangerous question: Is there a future for a thief and a prefect, and at what price?

My Rating: ★★★★★

*My Review and Favorite Quotes below the cut.

My Review:

Here we have Vanja being Vanja (ie self-destructive and also accidentally starting a cult because of course she does) and then in comes Emeric being Emeric (annoyed and exasperated at Vanja and said accidental cult) and then things really start to happen.

The writing is just as gorgeous and funny and dark as in the first book. I love it so much!

The story is so compelling, as are the characters. As the threads of story slowly wove together, I remained in awe of Margaret Owen's plotting skills and ability to misdirect. The story is SO beautiful and SO sad. I actually had to stop reading, near the end, because my eyes were so full of tears I couldn't see the words and I had to take a moment and wipe them until I could see again. That doesn't happen often.

I love Vanja and Emeric even more now, and I absolutely cannot wait for the next one.

The twist of who, exactly, the Scarlet Maiden is was brilliantly foreshadowed in a way that made it seem like it came out of nowhere with a gut punch. The identity of the various people Vanja encounters was hidden in plain sight. Everything was constructed so perfectly.

And poor Vanja and Emeric. That ending broke my heart and I did cry. I can't wait for the next book to find out how they fix things. Because they have to fix things. Right?

Margaret Owen has cemented her place as a forever auto-buy author for me and one whose arcs I will absolutely fight for.

*Thanks to NetGalley and Macmillan Children's - Henry Holt & Co. for providing an early copy for review.

Favorite Quotes:

She cried like a routed general. She cried like a jilted bride. She cried like a two-year-old who has been told they cannot eat rocks.

---

But you know that feeling? The one where your entire brain melts out through your earholes because your head is on fire, and the rest of your body overcompensates by freezing on the spot, and the only thing left in your skull is a ghost marching in a circle and banging two pots together? That’s about where I’m at.

---

Kirkling’s charcoal stick dangles like a dagger over the throat of her page.

---

I wonder if Kirkling knows exactly what manner of pedantic, punctilious annotated-within-an-inch-if-its-life beast she’s just unleashed. I know without a doubt that she is about to learn.

---

You deserve so much more than the least terrible of your choices.

---

“What did you want to speak to the boy about?” Udo asks in the tonal equivalent of a TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT sign

---

“Yes, Proctor Kirkling,” Emeric says with a forced sort of tranquility, as if the prospect of a daily quiz isn’t the greatest thing that’s happened to him since the invention of the T-square.

---

Four days later, our carriage rolls into Danwik, a town beautiful in a way reserved explicitly for things built on spite.

---

Our eyes meet. In that moment, an unspoken ironclad alliance is forged, and I know we are a united front with the sole objective of haranguing Emeric.

---

“Hence why I was also the first person to teach this lout how to throw a proper punch.” “Which was great,” Emeric says darkly, “until I got stabbed.” Vikram rolls his eyes. “What eleven-year-old hasn’t been stabbed, honestly.”

---

Little thieves tell themselves they take what they need to survive, and sometimes that’s true, and sometimes it’s a lie. Great thieves don’t fool themselves about their motives; they take things because they want them, end of story. The only lie they tell themselves is that there’s no difference between wanting something and deserving it.

---

For most of my life, I’ve held to a theory I call the trinity of want. It states that people are desired for three reasons: power, pleasure, or profit. If you provide three of those, others serve you. Provide two, they see you. One, they use you.

---

Years of pain had smelted her down to a knife, and only now was she relearning to touch others without drawing blood.

---

There’s a thoracic little death-rattle behind me. I’m pretty sure it’s the sound of Emeric’s world crumbling at the fact that he’s pissed off the saint of libraries.

---

“I mean, ‘I summon the powers of the gods through the stars’ is pretty impressive on its own.”

---

I’m starting to suspect Kirkling is one of those people who strongly commits to being a pain in the ass on a day-to-day basis, only to metamorphose into a decent and competent person in a crisis.

[hekateinhell]

“I can't believe my alternate Devil's Minion posting brought you into my inbox and not my 'Marius/Armand/Lestat + Lestat & Armand being brothers' smut posting” that’s because I MISSED IT. For some reason Tumblr has been doing me dirty lately and usually shows me either old posts or posts that I’ve already seen at the top of my feed and there’s so much incredible stuff I miss unless I take the time to check ppl’s blogs individually (which in your case I’ll gladly do ofc 🥰). ANYHOW. I’m caught up now, back to business. In my head Lestat and Armand are always competing for Marius’ attention/approval (the Succession anon was REALLY onto something here omg), and things tend to get frisky when Marius ultimately ends up favoring Lestat/lets him get away with shit he’d never let Armand get away with. A major Lestat fuck up that ends with Marius laughing it off and calling him a brat prince/damned creature is equivalent to 2 daily whipping sessions for 5 consecutive days for Armand. So the thought of Marius bending them both to his will while outrageously favoring Lestat and saving the worst for Armand while Lestat initially has the time of his life but then his competitive streak starts to kick in once he notices how much Armand’s genuine desperation to please Marius actually GETS to Marius and starts rewarding him… it does things to me, I won’t lie 🥹 “But it leads me back to my thought of Armand baby-trapping Lestat with one of his own nieces or nephews during the French Revolution.” WITH ONE OF HIS OWN WHAT??WHEN??? Imagine Armand holding two mini Lestat clones on both arms while all three of them look at him like 🥺🥺🥺 “provide? 👉👈” and Lestat now has a whole ass family to take care of. I NEED IT. Missed you too! xoxo DA

DA here again, brain won’t stop conjuring up images🫣 what if Marius started getting a little too rough with Armand (even for his standards, which as we know are pretty damn rough already) which made Lestat feel extremely protective of him but unsure about what to do next WHICH would of course be noticed by Marius so he’d end up getting some of Armand’s blows as punishment but he’d take them like a champ for his ahem, brother. And then Armand would lick his wounds clean while they both hold each other and cry 🫠

Work melted my brain and I forgot to check my ask box for a few days, but oh what a lovely Friday treat! 🤧♥️

Where do I even begin? 🥹

Tbh the most scandalous aspect of all of this is the visual of Armand looking all barefoot and pregnant, holding two blond babies while making his canonical Puss in Boots eyes at Lestat (like he isn't an entire deranged Satanic cult leader).

And you know what? You and I and everyone else knows it would work as long as Gabrielle wasn't around to shut that shit down. Shame, because Lestat deserved to be trapped with two kids and a husband that's incurably psychosexually obsessed with him by the ripe old age of twenty-two (this is my hill to die on today). Armand rocking those babies and going, "Would you really refuse me now after I have saved your own flesh and blood from the guillotines? 🥺"

Instead of being disgusted like Louis was, Lestat would be simultaneously terrified and enamored (it's his Armand default, he can't help it). The debate of whether Armand truly does have more morals than Lestat when it comes to turning children can be sorted out once and for all.

NOW LET'S TALK MARIUS.

Not to get too meta when we're talking smut lmao but I feel that in general, Marius is one of those people that the more he loves you, the more you suffer (Lestat is too, and also Armand pre-his 'healed at Trinity Gate' era).

So on the surface, it appears that Lestat is the favorite but in the end Armand gets more of Marius's attention and frustrations. Lestat's way too competitive to take that lying down (so to speak), and maybe it reminds him too much of his childhood and it's upsetting!

But you're right, Lestat is actually extremely gentle and tender when it comes to Armand! At least compared to how he treats Louis, David, etc. Remembering how he lets Armand cling to him in BC while he cries and then Lestat kisses him. 🥹 And Armand is also protective/possessive of him! Nobody gets to hurt Lestat (except Armand).

The only thing better than Lestat crying is both of them crying together and licking up each other's tears. 🥵 But it's a good crying, like 70% of their present-day issues stem from Marius directly or indirectly, so it's sort of poetic that him hurting both of them would give them something to bond over.

Maybe Daddy does know best sometimes. 🙏🏼

[cursestothemoon]

yay for the open requests! I really reallyyyyyy love your Harry's older sister hc, could u pretty pls do more? like their brief life as a family with lily and james, then to the dursleys and then at war, so on. I agree with the anon that did the request, harry does needed a bigger sister❤️

aH I LOVED THESE REQUESTS

YOU GUYS CAN READ THE HEADCANONS THIS ANON IS TALKING ABOUT HERE

ok so this is L O N G i need to add a keep reading tab

alright so let's talk about harry's older sister

so lily and james did not plan you

they were straight out of hogwarts

just having fun

and suddenly lily is having morning sickness and james running into a store to buy a pregnancy test (or whatever the wizard equivalent would be 😗)

james would be so nervous the weeks leading up to your birth

he already knows that you aren't even here yet and there isn't anything he wouldn't do for you

and when you are born

he swears he'd never love anything as much as he loves you

his little girl

this sweet little lump of baby fat that was born with eyes just like his

he'd put his glasses on your little baby face, and he could laugh for hours at the way they just barely sat on your little nose (a miniature version of his)

your chubby little baby hands are his favorite

when you'd plan your hands on his face or wrap your hand around his finger he'd melt

Lily would joke all the time about how she carried the baby yet James is constantly hogging her

I think james would have some serious separation anxiety

Lily would also have trouble leaving you to go do something but she knew that you getting to see other people would be good

james is NOT a fan

and you were a big daddy's girl

"it's going to be alright, darling, uncle Padfoot and uncle Moony will take care of you."

and you'd respond with sad baby talk, something along the lines of 'daddy' and 'wanna stay with you' and you'd get all teary eyed

it's a whole dramatic scene

youre crying

james is about to cry

Sirius is quite literally trying to sob silently into his hand because you just look so sAD

and remus and lily are just

😐

because you guys do this eVERY TIME

there was one time james got back into the car with lily after dropping you off and he was unusually quiet until he kinda just whispered out

"It just feels like i'll never have enough time with her, like one day i'll wake up and suddenly she's not mine anymore."

his tone gave Lily the worst chills, his tone and the fact that she felt the same though never voiced it

honestly

i don't think harry was planned either

he kinda just happened

and they were like

you know what, yes.

so you were two when harry was born

and you LOVED your baby brother

he was so small

so cute

and he had your mum's green eyes

from the get go you were very protective of your little brother

james thought it was the cutest thing

ok ive been avoiding it

but we need to talk about October 31 1981

you were upstairs with our mum and harry

james was downstairs cleaning up from dinner

that was when there was a knock on the door

assuming it was peter, uncle wormtail, james was quick to go open the door

grabbing his wand for protection was the last thing on his mind

the thud of his body was loud

he was killed before he could even open his mouth to warn Lily

the door to Harry's nursery flew open and it all happened so fast

there was screaming

bargaining

a sudden flash fo green before Voldemort turned to harry

his cold, pale hand pushed you out of his way

the prophecy had said nothing about you, so he didn't care for what happened to you he just needed to kill harry

which obviously backfired

half the house was blown up

he was gone

harry was crying

and you just wanted your dad

you found your way downstairs, just barely making it down the steps

lily and james had never let you go up or down the steps on your own

only to come face to face with your dad just lying on the ground motionless

his eyes were still open

now i want you guys to think of the lion king

you know the scene where simba finds mufasa's dead body and just lays with it because he doesn't know where else to go

you just wanted any kind of comfort you could find

so with tear streaks going down your face you slayed next to your dad, getting as close as you could, hoping he'd just wake up

sirius is the one who finds you, asleep next to james' body

it was rather rough for sirius

and he could hear harry crying somewhere upstairs

you wake up to uncle padfoot trying to keep in his tears as he takes in the scene before him

you're just glad to see a familiar face

you run over to him, tears freshly falling as you wail about how daddy and mommy won't wake up

you also gently pull james' glasses off his face and keeping them in your small hand

keeping them safe for him later

you knew he didn't like to sleep with his glasses on

eventually hagrid shows up

you guys know the story

but i will say

it takes a lot for you to leave uncle pads and go with this big strange man

youre basically heaving as you beg to stay with sirius

and forcing you off his hip and onto the bike with hagrid was the worst thing he's ever had to do

even for a two year old, youre eyes held such a strong emotion of betrayal

sirius would never forget it

the dursley's were not fond of you and harry

you had james temper and stubbornness

harry was just a 6 month old baby

doing 6 month old baby things

for the first month you'd ask for james, lily, uncle moony, uncle padfoot, even uncle wormtail on a daily basis

until one day petunia just snapped

you had asked about sirius, or as you called him uncle padfoot, and petunia lost it

she started to shout, her hand coming out to strike your cheek as she told you that no one was coming

not now

not ever

you never asked after that

over time you forgot about sirius and remus and peter

you forgot about the song your dad would sing every saturday morning when making breakfast

or the way your mom would hum when she brushed your hair

all lily and james had become were familiar scents and the same pair of eyes you'd see in your dreams (though for a long time you just assumed they were your eyes, they looked enough like yours)

and you grew up always feeling like you were on the wrong side of a billowing curtain

you and harry grew up only having each other

you were very protective of him

and dudley hated it

because you had James art for pranks

and his art for rarely getting caught

unfortunately for you petunia and vernon didn't need evidence to incriminate you

you were often on the receiving end of disciplinary swats and missed meals

and you'd often take harry's punishments for him

you and harry were also forced to share a room

or cupboard

you let him decorate it with all his things (he didn't have many)

and you guys shared a bed up until you got your hogwarts letter

which that was kept very quiet

you got the letter

and petunia and vernon were just glad to be able to send you and your pranks away

you weren't allowed to tell harry

but you did anyway

secretly

you didn't tell him all the details but you told him that you were going to a school far away and you'd be back whenever aunt petunia let you back

going to school was interesting

you didn't know anyone

bUT HAGRID WAS ALSO THERE TO HELP YOU AND BUY YOU YOURE STUFF AND HE BOUGHT YOU YOUR FIRST WAND

you still have james' glasses

you put them on when youre nervous

so youre sitting in the train

first day

you don't know anyone

big round glasses sitting on your nose as you look out the window barely able to see what's going on

james was as blind as a bat

on the train you spend your time reading your new books

absorbing all the material

you were not going to just walk into this new school of mAGIC not knowing aNYTHING

by the time you got there you were at leas base level with most subjects

some were easier to catch onto than others

as long as you didn't let the logical side of your brain do too much work

within the first week you'd find out about your parents

curtesy of older gryffindor kids who knew your last name and were just amazed by the story

oH ALSO YOURE IN GRYFFINDOR

AND WHEN MCGONAGALL READS YOUR NAME SHE GASPS TO HERSELF

BECAUSE

Y/N POTTER

she remembers when james had written to her with the news of Lily's pregnancy with you

and how he was nervous you'd come out just like him and he wouldn't be able to handle you as well as she had, he was asking her for advice

and when you walked up to sit on the chair she nearly dropped her scroll of parchment and pulled you into a hug

you looked just like him

dark hair

pale skin

same eyes and eye shape

and same habit of picking at the skin around your thumb nail when nervous

the hat announcing you were a gryffindor was very overwhelming for her

then she realizes you

are e x a c t l y

like james

and merlin is she tiRED OF THIS SHIT

ok so at this point i am going to direct you to the other headcanon (linked above) if you want a more fred x reader approach 

continue here if not

so youre on the quidditch team

and youre a natural 

let me tell you

you just have the innate ability 

much like james

and at first they had you as a seeker

and you were good

but you excelled as a chaser 

i also firmly believed that there was a practice broom that james had carved his name into

or maybe just a ‘J.P.’

that was the broom you'd practice on

even use for games before you got your own broom

ok so

let’s talk your relationship with harry 

you made sure you were the one to tell him what happened to your parents

as i said it was your first year when you fond out about what happened 

the gryffindor student had told you what they knew

and you went to professor mcgonagall pretty distraught 

you were near tears as you practically begged her to just tell you what happened, you wanted the truth 

because all your life your aunt and uncle had told you that your parents had been killed in a car accident 

needless to say 

you didn't want harry to find out that way

but you also knew he was noticing the stares

the whispers

so you told him on the first night

he had already been put into gryffindor and was getting ready for bed when you are up to his dorm 

bECAUSE IT’S CANON THAT GIRLS CAN GO UP INTO THE BOYS DORMS AND BOYS CANT GO UP INTO THE GIRLS DORMS AND I WILL CITE THE PARAGRAPH IF ANYONE NEEDS

and you kinda push out ron, neville, and dean 

but yeah thats how he finds out all the details and such 

ok so you and harry are sUPER CLOSE

and you are very 

v e r y

protective of harry 

you'd do anything for the kid 

wHEN YOU FIND OUT ABOUT THE WHOLE SORCERER’S STONE FIASCO 

YOU ARE LIVID

because harry is your baby brother and you love him so much and don't like seeing him hurt 🥺

as harry grows older he gets a bit more

embarrassed 

about having you protective over him

and im pretty sure i mentioned this in the last headcanon post 

but yeah he’d be like 14 and you'd be 17 and he'd just

“stOP this is so emBARRASSING”

what a little dweeb

ok leTS TALK ABOUT SIRIUS 

BECAUSE YOU AND SIRIUS WERE CLOSE WHEN YOU WERE YOUNGER

HE WAS UNCLE PADFOOT

YOU LOVED HIM

until your fifth year (harry’ third) when you were told he betrayed your parents and got them killed 

youre in the whomping willow when with harry, hermione, and ron 

its a lot for both of you

because sirius is seeing his goddaughter who looks just like james, and his the same fire in her eyes as his bestrfriend

his b r o t h e r 

and youre seeing the man who was responsible for your parents murder 

again 

it was A LOT

i have a feeling you, JAMES POTTERS DAUGHTER, would just lunge at him 

and youre crying

trying to hit him

hurt him like he hurt you

just anything to bring pain upon this man

and sirius is having flashbacks of when you had ran to him from next to james’ lifeless body 

and how different everything had been just days prior to October 31 1981

upon finding out the truth 

scammers is now wormtail

peter ‘little bitch ass’ pettigrew

you and harry are immediately forming this connection

this sort of dependency on sirius 

within a few minutes

because he is the only living connection you have to your dad 

apart from yourselves of course

but eh was the only reminder that james potter was a real man 

and lily potter did exist 

and there was a time where your family was complete 

it never crossed your mind that any more misfortune could strike 

not now 

not when you finally got back your uncle pads

and then you guys walk into the moonlight, the full moon light

everything flips instantly 

you guys are back to square one 

i like to think you have a very big part in getting sirius free 

so you guys know what happen in between prisoner of azkaban and order of the phoenix 

and this headcanon is already getting very long and we haven't even gotten to the wAR YET 

so we are doing a little time jump

order of the phoenix 

your last year

you are living with sirius in grimmauld place 

petunia and vernon kicked you out once you turned 17 after finding out that was the legal age in the wizarding world

you and sirius are close 

super close

i mean he is like a father figure to you

he is uncle pads again

oOO AND OK 

SO 

AFTER FINDING OUT HIS DAD AND HIS BROS 😤

WERE ALL UNREGISTERED ANIMAGI 

OBVIOUSLY YOU WANTED TO BE ONE TOO 

youre a gazelle 

it just makes sense

father figure sirius is not happy when he finds out

uncle pads, however, couldn't be happier

its finally starting to feel like a family again

you and harry have sirius 

aLSO REMUS

icon

anyway

everything is falling into place

you and harry are filling the james sized hole in Sirius’ heart (not completely but it’s better)

and he is doing the same for you two

you and harry love your uncle pads

then the battle in the department of mysteries happens 

youre there

you see it 

you watch as bellatrix hits sirius with a curse 

youre not sure which 

nothing too serious you hope, and seeing that he’s still standing he should be fine 

but then he stumbles

she's stunned him perhaps 

and he makes eye contact with you

there was a look so final, so sad

yet so relieved in his eyes as you watched him fall through the veil

remus grabbed harry

tonks held you

if she hadn’t been you knew you would've thrown yourself into the veil after him

its a whirlwind from then on let me tell you

so we know what happens

all that fun stuff 

the war hits

harry, hermione, and ron leave

youre left with the weasley’s 

it’s hard being away from harry

not knowing if he was ok

if he was even alive 

you guys finally reunite at shell cottage 

bill calls you the second he sees harry, hermione, ron, and dobby apparate in front of his house

you were quick to pull harry into a bone crushing hug 

keen on never letting go 

because after all he is still (and always will be) your baby brother 

you guys are all at the battle of hogwarts

oK WAIT

SO

YOU REFUSE TO LET HARRY WALK TO HIS DEATH ALONE

ALSO YOUVE FIGURED WHAT HE PLANS ON DOING BUT NEITHER OF YOU HAVE SAID ANYTHING

NOT WANTING TO ACCEPT THAT THIS COULD BE THE LAST TIME YOU GUYS SEE EACH OTHER 

AND THE RESURRECTION STONE COMES OUT 

BOTH YOU AND HARRY ARE HOLDING ONTO IT 

AND SUDDENLY

SIRIUS 

REMUS 

THERE ALL THERE 

EVEN A WOMAN WITH RED HAIR 

AND A MAN WHO LOOKS PAINFULLY FAMILIAR 

ok so hear me out 

i think harry enjoyed looking at pictures of james and lily

but you didnt

you didnt want to see everything that was taken from you

so you weren’t super aware of what your dad actually looked like seeing as you avoided pictures of him and your mom like the plague 

but you just knew 

and james was standing there

beaming

and he just looked so proud of you and harry 

so did lily 

she was the first one to say something 

“Your father and I are so proud of the both of you”

and you just broke down 

james right there with you 

he watched as you sobbed, choking on your cries 

and he couldn’t do anything about it 

he couldn’t hold you or comfort you

he couldn’t be a dad 

and it broke him

as much as it could break a dead man 

“you’ve grown so beautiful, darling” he'd smile sadly

his voice seemed to bring back all of your memories once lost 

“have you always been here, with us?”

“always.”

“typical, your father shows up and everyone forgets about uncle padfoot”

both you and harry laugh at that 

but the mood was somber 

harry then speaks up

“does it hurt?”

it was the first time either of you had confirmed that you both knew what was going to happen 

“dying? not at all, quicker than falling asleep.”

“will you stay with me?”

“until the very end. 

james is the one who answers, looking teary eyes at his son

and you know you cant go any further 

harry has to do this alone 

its quite symbolic actually 

the one time you'd let go of the reigns 

removed the protective arms you had around your baby brother 

he’d die 

but you had to do it 

so everything goes as planned 

harry dies

comes back

we love a resurrecting king 

and the war ends 

when you got back home from the war 

let’s say you are still living at grimmauld place seeing as it was left to you 

the first thing you do is go through old photos with harry 

any and everything you can get your hands on 

you see your mother’s sparkling green eyes

the same eyes your brother had 

and your father’s unruly mop of curls 

the same wave pattern in your dark hair 

everything finally felt right 

tags:

@pogueslandia

@vsawyer1989​

@lifeofkaze

@siriusement

@erinruby003

@maybesandohnos

@onlyfreds

@fullofsourgrapes

[yoonpobs]

Omg requests are open AAAHHH

may i request an oblivious oc and tsundere yoongi who likes holding oc's hands and idk like maybe oc thinks it's bc his hands are cold and his friends make fun of him and oc only realizes yoongi likes her when they spill his secret

as a yoongi stan, this is my guilty pleasure and this absolutely KILLED ME ily for asking this 🤣and double update today???? who am I????? 

hope you enjoy this v fluffy and v yoongi piece <3

pairing: tsundere!yoongi x oblivious&clumsy!oc

genre: FLUFFFFFFFFFFFFF

warnings: lots of squealing into ur pillow moments. taehyung, jimin & jin being the saviours tbh

words: 3, 136

Yoongi is staring at you like you spilt milk over his favourite pair of sneakers and you have no idea what to make of it.

“Uh …” You drag, blinking up at him with wide eyes when all he does is level you with a blank stare.

You can hear the distinct chatter of your friends in the background, likely already having their go skating around the rink. They always left you and Yoongi alone, for whatever reason it may be. But you weren’t complaining, you wanted to give him your gift in private!

But when Yoongi only stares at the mass of knit in your palms as you hold it out to him, you can only feel your ears flush an embarrassing shade of red at the subtle gesture of rejection. 

Yoongi was by no means a malicious person, but he was very clear-cut. He was straightforward and it was definitely one of his qualities that you admired the most about him. His ability to mitigate any situation, or look at things objectively was something that you struggled with for the most part of your life. Which is why some people would mistake him for cold or uncaring, but you knew better. 

“Do you … do you not like it?” You ask meekly, eyes darting everywhere but his as they continue to stare you down.

Yoongi doesn’t say a word. Instead, he grabs your hands with his larger palm where your gift lays and observes it, scrutinises it as if he’s there to pick apart any stray strand of yarn. His hand, despite his exterior, is soft and gentle when he holds you; and your brain short-circuits for a good five seconds when he traces a thumb over your knuckles.

“It’s cute.” He shrugs.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. Your eyes dart down to your hands and somehow you find them in a familiar position. His fingers intertwined with yours and his palm engulfing yours entirely.

“T-Then why don’t you—” You try to pull away, making an effort to dangle your hand-woven mittens in front of him in hopes of attracting his appeal towards it.

But he doesn’t even bat an eye, just sighs and squeezes your hand tighter.

“I’m holding your hand.” He says pointedly, shooting you a serious stare.

You stutter for a response, and despite the chill in the air you hope he can allude to the redness of your cheeks a result of the wind that blows past you and not the flustered state you find yourself in when he tugs your body closer to his.

You suppose you found a bad spot to give him the mittens because you nearly stumble into his chest at how wobbly you are on skates. You planned his gift for weeks, fully aware that your group of friends was intending on coming to ice-skate. 

“I’m really bad at ice-skating. I’ll just slow you down.” You huff with a frown, still attempting to tug your hand away.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, “I literally don’t care.”

You gape at his bluntness and scowl when he only offers you a lazy smirk. His hand is still tightly wrapped around your own, and you sigh, knowing that it was hopeless to fight against Yoongi when he was far stronger than you were.

“I can skate with Tae or something, he and I are pretty much—“

“No.” Yoongi blinks.

You splutter, “E-Excuse—?”

He snatches the mittens from your other hand and shoves them into his pocket. The action is so quick that you can barely register the way Yoongi is tugging your forehead as you flounder on your feet, already feeling unstable at the way the ice is set on making you fall.

But Yoongi is there like he always is, and he rests a gentle palm on your waist and shoots you a rare and soft smile that makes your heart weak.

“I’ll teach you.” He says it like it’s obvious, “Just hold my hand.”

“Yoongi, I really don’t think—” You weakly protest when he pulls you closer until you’re nestled comfortably by his side, his face set forward as he blatantly ignores you.

“Stop being so stubborn and hold on tight.” He scolds, squeezing your hand when he feels your fingers loosen its grip.

You pout, your other hand patting your cheek in hopes of easing the burning of your cheeks.

.

Lest to say, you are horrid at ice-skating and you wished you stayed home.

Your two left feet was probably the least interesting thing about you, yet it was the one thing that left a lasting impression on the people you’ve met. Whether it be because you tripped up a flight of stairs as you rushed to your next lecture, or if you accidentally torpedoed into a bush while you were attempting to penny

“How are you even real?” He huffs, fingers intertwined tightly with your own. You’re grateful he has a lethal grip on you because you don’t think you’re ready to be doused in ice, even if it was at your own accord.

“I’m sorry!” You whine, hand still clasped with his.

Yoongi doesn’t let go, even if you’re stable on your feet. He never does. He only holds your hand tighter, grumbling something about your clumsiness as he uses his spare hand to adjust the strap of his bag over his shoulders. When he shoots you a look, you feel very much like a scolded child as you pout up at his narrowed eyes.

“What would you do if I wasn’t holding your hand, huh?” He laments, eyes rolling while he tugs you towards the direction of your friends who have somehow all gathered at the corner of the rink.

You stare at your feet, tittering to keep up with his long strides as he keeps the hold on your hand firm. 

“Look, I don’t ask to be swept away—!” You retort petulantly, but Yoongi completely ignores you as he squeezes your hand in response, right as he stops in front of your friends.

You’re still sulking when Yoongi doesn’t let go, shooting you a look that has you pursing your lips shut. 

“Lovely for the two of you to join us,” Jimin snorts.

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, but you miss the lethal glare he shoots at your mutual friend.

“I’m sorry that my skating skills can’t keep up with you,” You huff.

You see Jin’s eyes dart down to your intertwined hands, before looking up; a knowing smirk on his face that you can’t decipher.

“Seems like Yoongi has it all settled.” He snickers, nudging Jimin by the side.

You can feel Yoongi roll his eyes next to you, even if you pout at Jin’s words.

“At this rate, I think you’re basically joined by the hands,” Jimin says smugly.

You blink.

“She’ll fall,” Yoongi says blankly.

“Look, I said I’d skate with Tae but he’s so adamant!” You cry.

Yoongi shoots you a dry glare, before briefly releasing your hand. You splutter for a second, surprised at the sudden coldness that engulfs your grip and the emptiness that you feel when he no longer has his fingers intertwined with your own.

“What—?” You furrow your brows but Yoongi pats you on the hand to ease your confusion.

“I’m getting you hot chocolate. Your hands are freezing.” He murmurs, and to prove his point; he grabs your fingers and rubs soothing circles on your knuckles to provide you with any warmth he could.

If your hands weren’t warm, then your cheeks definitely were. You couldn’t hold eye contact with Yoongi because he was staring at you so intently that you may have been the one to melt into a puddle on the ice.

“But the mittens—!” You call, but he’s already skating away to the confectionary stand where they sell hot chocolate.

You sigh, dejected as you frown. Did he really hate the mittens that much?

“You are so stupid.” Jin gawks at you with a shake of his head.

You turn your head so fast that you nearly fall over, but Jimin’s grip on your wrist prevents you from doing so.

“And clumsy, God, no wonder hyung won’t let you go.” He scolds.

You frown, “Hey! What the hell is up with the slander?” You whine.

Taehyung stumbles into the conversation, quite literally almost smashing his body against the divider but he manages to balance himself by gripping the hell out of Jin’s shoulders.

“You deserve it,” He sticks his tongue out as you gape at him.

“What?! Why?” You hiss, “You literally just entered the conversation!”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, “And I’ve had to see you and hyung doddle around each other for ages so spare me the fucking brain cells because clearly, you need it more than I do.”

“What—?” You splutter.

“You are literally the densest person on this planet.” Jin blinks.

“What are you guys even talking about?” You cry.

Jimin shoots you a dry look, willing the God’s above to give you a semblance of rationality or logic to put two and two together.

“The hand-holding? The constant going out of his way to do things for you? The fact that you’re the only person he’ll ever smile at even if you do the dumbest shit ever?” Taehyung exasperates.

You blink.

“It’s winter and his fingers get really cold—!”

Jin groans, tugging at his hair in frustration.

“No, you idiot! Yoongi literally doesn’t get cold. He’s the human equivalent of a furnace! He literally doesn’t give a shit if he freezes to death. The only reason why he ever holds your hand is that he wants to!” He yells, grabbing you by the shoulder as he shakes your body while you stare up at him with wide eyes.

Does that mean—?

“He hates the mittens?” You cry, face crumbling.

You see Taehyung, Jimin and Jin’s face fall as they all share a look of disbelief.

“I’m sorry but I have no way to defend you.” Jimin blinks.

“I just wanted to do something nice for him! He’s always taking care of me and I thought knitting him a pair of mittens would help with the cold …” You mumble, eyes darting down to your feet as your voice trails off into a whisper.

“Okay, I know I promised hyung I wouldn’t say anything until she figured it out herself but I can’t take it anymore.” Taehyung seethes to the other boys.

Your eyes dart up, furrowing in confusion as Jimin and Jin’s eyes widen at Taehyung’s statement.

“Figured what—?”

“Dude, Yoongi is going to kill you,” Jin warns.

Taehyung scoffs, “Like I give a shit. I’m losing brain cells listening to her speak so this is an act of self-preservation. He’s going to thank me and so are you.”

“What are you—?” You huff.

“Yoongi likes you!” He exasperates, throwing his hands into his air.

The silence is overwhelming, as the four of you simply blink at each other. Your brain is processing his words, but it doesn’t really make sense. You’re confused as you attempt to deduce the meaning behind it until you come to a conclusion—

You look over at Jimin, “Are the two of you—?”

Jimin wants to scream.

“No, oh my God! Yoongi likes you! You!” He shakes you so hard that your head spins, “He likes you so much it’s disgusting and cute so you better do something about it and not accustom us to this torture anymore, okay?!”

Before you can say anything else, you feel a gentle hand on your shoulder. You blink up, and you see Yoongi offering you a cup of hot chocolate, eyeing the rest of the boys weirdly as they stand there with tightened expressions.

“Here you go,” He says softly, helping you blow onto the steaming cup before gently placing it into your hand.

It warms you up immediately, and you only then managed to piece together what Taehyung and Jimin just told you. The realisation dawns upon you as a scandalised expression makes its way onto your face. Yoongi raises an eyebrow, observing the odd behaviour of the four of you as the three boys ignore his pointed gaze.

“L-Let’s go take a seat,” You stutter, pushing on his chest with your free hand as you attempt to skate away from the wandering eyes. The pressure was too much.

“Hey, hold on, you’ll fall.” He gently chides, doing what comes as second nature to him as he grabs your other hand, giving you a squeeze of reassurance.

As the two of you skate away, you miss the sighs that leave the three boys’ lips.

“So, is there a reason why you tried to skate away like you were an Olympian?” Yoongi asks when the two of you managed to settle down in a small bench outside of the rink, tucked a decent distance away.

You look down at your palms, squeezing around the hot chocolate as you pay attention to the steam that escapes the surface.

The words from Jimin was essentially still haunting you, and you wondered if this was some sick joke of his to get back at you for mixing up his toothpaste with his shampoo a few months back. You sulk because this was a really mean joke and your feelings were about to get really hurt if he was lying to you.

“Hey,” Yoongi murmurs, hand reaching out to tilt your chin up to look at him. His stare is so intense that you find yourself cowering away, cheeks red and embarrassed. “Look at me.”

You can’t.

“I-I … there’s nothing wrong!” You squeak, eyes travelling and landing on different people that wasn’t Yoongi. Anyone that wouldn’t cause your insides to melt with just his gaze alone.

Yoongi purses his lips in disapproval, sighing before he sets his hot chocolate by the table next to the bench and turns to face you. You knew that you had no place to run, especially when Yoongi essentially traps you with his eyes, observing your every move.

“You’re shaking.” He points out.

And only then do you realise that you were shaking, and your hands were basically vibrating with the hot chocolate. You cursed at yourself, and the cold.

“I-I’m cold.” You chatter.

Yoongi frowns, reaching out his hand to immediately grab your own to warm them up. But when you spot his hands, you squeak, immediately retracting them as if he was about to bite them off. 

You realise how it looks, and you notice the slight drop in Yoongi’s expression when you reacted the way you did.

“Are you—?” He begins to ask, slow and tentative.

“Not my hands!” You blurt out.

Yoongi pauses for a second before he relaxes his posture and raises a brow at you in questioning.

“Okay …?” He drags, “Where are you cold? Do you need my jacket?” He asks.

You curse at yourself because you didn’t know how to get yourself out of this situation. Especially now that Yoongi was patiently waiting for your response. Your thighs were essentially brushed up against each other, and his body was leaned over ever so slightly that you catch every strand of eyelashes on his eyes.

You were so weak.

“N-No, I … you can keep your jacket.” You stutter, shaking your head as you pat his puffer down when he goes to shrug it off.

Yoongi’s frown deepens, “Well, can you tell me where so I can help—?”

“My lips!” You declare, voice high pitched and loud enough that it attracts a few stares from bystanders.

Yoongi just stares at you, and you’re mortified when you realise what you said, but you can’t seem to stop now that you’ve already dug a hole for yourself.

“My … lips … they’re ... cold,” You clear your throat, blinking up at him with a false sense of determination in hopes of shielding the way your face is undoubtedly on fire right now.

“Your lips … are cold?” He articulates each world tentatively as he observes your face for any reaction.

You nod.

“Yeah. Cold.” You say.

Oh my God, shut up!

Before you can even run away, and it’s as if Yoongi expects you to flee, he pins your hands down with his own and draws closer to your face so quickly that you can barely even catch his next move.

And kisses you.

Smack on the lips.

He pulls away too fast for your liking, and you’re gaping at him like a fish out of the water when you realise what he did.

“You—” You croak, pointing a finger at him.

But Yoongi leans in once more, pressing a firmer kiss to your lips, one that sends your brain into overdrive as you feel yourself melt into his hold. If you were cold, you definitely weren’t anymore. Not when Yoongi is pressed against you like a warm lover by the fireplace.

He pulls away first, again, and you notice the tip of his ears turning red before he offers you that charming smile of his.

“Took you long enough,” He sighs, reaching out to cradle your jaw in his palm. And only then do you realise that Jimin was right, his hand is warm.

“W-What?”

He rolls his eyes fondly, ignoring the way you stare up at him with confused and wide eyes; likely still absorbing what just happened.

“Just hold my hand,” He tuts, reaching in between the both of you to intertwine your fingers together once more as he rests your combined hands on his lap.

“Does this mean …?” You ask shyly, head ducking away from his eyes.

He smiles at you, and you notice that it’s the same look he’s always had whenever he speaks to you.

He brings the back of your hand to his lips and presses a gentle peck to it, causing heat to rise to your cheeks all over again.

“You warm now, cutie?” He murmurs.

You melt, “Oh my God! Don’t—just—I’m literally going to die!” You whine, shoving your face into his puffer as you scream at his suaveness.

He chuckles, low and deep as he unlocks your hands to wrap an arm around your body, tugging you closer until you’re practically glued to his hip like a koala.

“Don’t die on me now,” He sighs, “Just got you to myself.”

“I hate you so much.” Your complaint is muffled into his puffer, but you can feel his grin on the top of your forehead when he presses a warm kiss to it.

“That’s disappointing. I like you very much,” He returns.

You blush, but you don’t push him away when he laughs into your hair, the sound making you melt further into his arms.

You liked him, too.

[hotporridgepot]

Been There

I didn't expect the first Ghosts fic I wrote to be from Julian's perspective, but this idea struck me and I can't stop thinking about it!

I've always imagined Julian to be the first one to properly talk to the Captain about his sexuality, and this is how I think that conversation would go.

It was one of Alison's "talks" that finally did it.

All it took was a sharp hairpin turn in the conversation, a misplaced comment from Kitty and bam, there it was. Button House's worst-kept secret was sent spinning across the circular space between their group therapy chairs. Julian's suddenly reminded, as the Captain evacuates the room in what looks like shock, of a news report he'd heard when he was a kid. It was of an unexploded bomb they dug up by a church. Everyone in the area had known it was there for a while, but to actually see it out in the open was something else.

Alison looks upset. Guilty, even. She keeps crossing and uncrossing her legs and pulling her cardigan over her hands.

"I thought he was okay," she mumbles, staring at the empty space on the wall Cap floated through. "He seemed to - last time we had a talk, he seemed like he wanted to -"

"Oh it's my fault, Alison," Kitty wails, thumping her hands down on her skirts as though she's smacking herself. "I was the one who asked about everyone's favourite beau. I shouldn't have fussed so much, I'm so sorry, it's just-"

"Kitty, it's fine!" Alison holds up her hands. "It's not your fault, it's just...complicated."

Julian watches as the conversation trickles down its many paths again. "My cousin's cousin was gay," Pat's saying to a bewildered Mary. Fanny's muttering about how she had no idea, Robin couldn't seem to care less, and Humphrey's still on the other side of the room asking for a rundown on what happened.

"Do you think he's alright?" Alison says.

Julian shrugs. "Damned if I know."

But the thing is, Julian does know. And the answer is most definitely no.

It might be a bit of an absurd conversation for the rest of the ghosts, but he's different. He comes from the time of - of gaydars, of Canal Street, of "metrosexual" plastered across the front of the Daily Mirror. Of Elton. Freddie. George. Coming out was a thing when he died. To pick up the vibe from someone simply wasn't done in Robin's time, nor Mary's. Nor even Pat's, really.

"I should probably go and see where he is," Julian says, feigning nonchalance.

No one responds. Alison's already on the other side of the room, complaining to Mike about "ghost stuff". Julian thumbs toward the back wall.

"Anyone wanna - no? Just me? Alright."

It doesn't take long to find the Captain. Whenever he's in any kind of sulk he always migrates to the window in the television room, staring at the gate outside like he's expecting someone to walk through it.

Now that he's here, Julian's not sure what to say. Best to try and get on Cap's level, really. Some more personal experience sharing. Alison would be proud.

"I've been there, you know," Julian says. It makes the Captain jump, a hand clutched to his chest before he turns back around and ignores Julian. "A couple of times, actually."

Cap sighs. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"New Year's Eve, 1971," Julian goes on, sauntering into the room. He's good at this, he decides. "That was the first time. We were absolutely spangled on a fat bottle of Haig, started playing strip poker and before you know it, my second moon landing was -"

"Blast it, Julian, this isn't about sex!"

The Cap's outburst stops Julian short. He backs up, wincing a bit as the Captain turns to face him. Julian's never seen any of them except for Kitty and Thomas cry, but he reckons that this is the stoic army equivalent. There's a deep, grey heaviness in the Captain's eyes, like something's been keeping him awake for a century.

It hits Julian, with a wave of shame and embarrassment he's very much not used to, how the older ghosts must see him. While he'd definitely be on the way to retirement were he still alive, he's a baby to the likes of Fanny and the Captain. A thoughtless, boisterous, fraternity-going thrillseeker. Shit-brained Bullingdon boy.

He isn't that, though. Not anymore. He's lived past that. He's died past that.

His own escapades might have been the wrong place to start. He realises now there are much more valuable things he could be saying; now, Julian suddenly remembers the other side of it all. Because he also comes from the time of Section 28. The AIDS crisis. Newspapers talking about a "gay gene". Newspapers spitting what Julian knew even then to be pure lie and vitriol.

He knows it's a big deal that the Captain just blurted it out in what looked like a fit of adrenaline that came and went against his will. To think of all those years, every second of Cap's life and afterlife built upon this cornerstone of a secret...it tugs at something in Julian's chest. It - well, it's a rotten thing.

Cautiously, Julian steps forward until he's sat opposite the Captain on the windowsill. He mumbles a "sorry" and clears his throat.

"Gets talked about these days, you know," Julian tries. "Like that wedding that came here, remember? It's a...thing."

A lame end to the sentence, but hey ho. It is a thing now.

Then the Captain clears his own throat. "I know it's a thing," he says pompously, "but it doesn't quite feel like my thing, if you catch my drift."

Julian frowns. "Wait, so you're not gay?"

"No, of course I - see, even that word! 'Gay'. It meant something completely different in my lifetime," the Captain says, fiddling with the buttons on his coat maniacally as though he wants them to fall off. "I feel so terribly out of touch for having kept it all inside for so long, that I can't possibly reduce it to the inconsequence people make of it today. I don't quite know how to navigate any of it. If it's even worth navigating, now that there's nothing I can do with the information."

Julian nods. It's making so much sense now. Poor sod.

"We all went in different directions after uni," Julian goes on. "Well, to some extent. One of the lads I romped about with is -"

The Captain pinches the bridge of his nose. "Julian, I said this wasn't about -"

"No, no, listen! I was going to say, one of the lads is married to a man now. Another one decided it wasn't for him and never did it again."

Cap's listening now. "...And as for you?"

Julian shrugs. "S'not something I thought about much when I wasn't up to the eyeballs in booze, but I suppose I'm - oh, I'd say 90 percent for women, 10 percent for men." Cautiously, he leans forward. "See? People still talk about that, too. Working out how you feel and all that malarkey. There's not really one way to about it, if I'm honest. There's never been one way about it."

The Captain's face softens, some of the heaviness in his eyes melting away.

"It doesn't matter who knows what, mate. Just give yourself some time."

"I've got plenty of that," Cap chuckles.

The sun's high in the sky now, beating feverishly hot through the window.

"You up for a bit of volley on the green? Humphrey's been begging us to play."

The Captain looks out the window at the grass, then back to the gate. "Not now, thank you. I'll watch from up here."

"Suit yourself." Julian gets up to go, something blooming in his chest he hasn't felt since he was alive. It's been a while since he truly helped someone, he thinks, and he's proud of it. Proud of them both.

"I'm all ears whenever you want to rant for a bit," he calls back as he leaves the room. "Remember, I've been there."