#the only hats they get are a halo >:]

[ghostb0o]

halloween with the jaidens and co

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGRH

featuring:

foolish as itachi uchiha, dapper as nosferatu, jaiden as cellbit's favourite bear, roier as spideroier, cellbit as black cat (ew couples cosplay), leonarda as herself but with an akatsuki cloak, bbh as a grim reaper of which he definitely is NOT already, and richas as cupid but with a jersey because he is the type of kid to only want to wear one kind of shirt (mood)

[harmonysanreads]

Playing Dress Up

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ft. Sunday, Aventurine, Dr Ratio, Blade

Heads up: Female!Reader, Possessive Behaviors, Very Self Indulgent

-; ੈ♡˳ SUNDAY

Sunday seeks refinement in every aspect of his life, this does not fail to extend to how you'll dress yourself while tied to his prestige as well. Sifting and digging through uncountable articles on women's fashion, extensive research on sources to make his vision come to life — Sunday hadn't even put this much effort into drafting his own style. What beget this initiative is rooted in his innate desire to make your connection to him clear through means sans saying it outright, though he'd much rather present it as his attempt in searching for a style that is uniquely yours ; which he does wish for to a degree, not to fret.

Your clothing will be weaved from scratch with the finest threads, silk and satin will be cut, folded and stitched to perfection. Even the measurements of your clothing will be penned down by the man himself : skirts must be of moderate length, not too long or too short and necklines must be modest. Said attires will be painted in shades of white, blue and gold ; his colors in short. But anything under these graceful dresses will be sleek black, a secret that'll never meet the public eye. The motifs of his halo will be skillfully engraved on the canvas that is you ; woven on the dresses, tempered in jewelry to adorn your hair and ears and not even your shoes will be spared.

The principle Sunday follows throughout this charade is complexity through simplicity. While one might think you'd look much like an over-groomed poodle after this, the gentle elegance of the reality will surprise even you. That is because Sunday practices caution in areas that are easy to complicate, jewelry for example. He's partial to earrings, bracelets, brooches and hair ornaments — not necklaces as he prefers the unobstructed beauty of your decolletage. Even those few ornaments are not gaudy in design, selected exclusively to accompany than to steal the stage. But the stones, diamonds and pearls he orders to be embedded in them are far precious than they initially suggest. After all, you deserve nothing but the best.

Most of Sunday's struggle was concentrated in the makeup area, for which, he had before anything else, scheduled an appointment with a dermatologist. Only when he had a detailed report on what products would suit your skin and what would harm you did he place the orders. Sunday thinks this endeavor to be much like conducting an orchestra : not all will understand why the conductor standing on the podium spins and twirls the baton, but when the tunes from the instruments unite and bring the melodies to life, it all makes sense.

-; ੈ♡˳ AVENTURINE

Aventurine has no patience for subtlety and employs bold tactics to get his message across. Should someone be naive enough to interrogate the man himself in his extravagant displays, he'll be unflinching in his reasoning as well. No amount of zeroes attached to the price tags or repeated cursory glances from passerbys will deter him in his shopping spree and should you complain about the mounting amount of bags — well, he has two perfectly functioning arms and adjacent shoulders sparkling in their vacancy, doesn't he? Your job is to just point out what catches your eyes, sweetheart.

The Stoneheart has discovered a sweet spot for matching since you entered his life ; which will materialize in earrings, bracelets, rings, hats, sunglasses, coats, chokers and the list goes on. Even though he gives you fair chances in choosing your attire, he'll not so discreetly sneak in pieces that'll reek of him. In occasions where this charade gets spectated by more than two pairs of eyes, Aventurine is less teasing and more edified in his intentions. Blue, pink and emerald coating fabrics that expose more than they cover will mock wanton eyes and they'll say loud and clear — this will never be yours.

Aventurine's favorite part has to be picking the perfumes for you. If you already have preferences, he'll scout the finest brand of that fragrance and make sure no other being in the expanding universe will be able to acquire it from then onwards. It just so happens that he also sees the importance of securing something that is uniquely you. If you're indecisive about perfumes, then even better! You can be doused in the fragrances he indulges in, keep no doubt that they'll be tasteful.

All this glamour might give the impression that Aventurine never allows you or himself to ever be stripped of the fanciful, glimmering and glittering layers oozing with the repute of uncountable credits. However, you were pleasantly surprised to find his lax attitude concerning your nightwear. You did not see any flickers of that ravenous flame concealed beneath enigmatic smiles even if you wore something bruised and tattered by time or, if you stole something from his wardrobe upon a random urge. Perhaps in moments overlooked by the light of distant stars, he treasures above all the sight of you in your most natural state, and wishes he could indulge in the same vulnerability as well.

-; ੈ♡˳ DR RATIO

The prodigious Veritas Ratio loves watching you get dressed, although there's a scarce chance of him openly admitting to his shameless ogling. Ironically, his genius receives negative marks when he tries to search for a rational reason as to why he continues regardless of your teasing — which, just so happen to never have sufficient burn to deter him for good. There's an odd sense of peace in spectating you building your look, in the movements of various tools and scattered, dexterous hand gestures. To him, it's almost synonymous to sculpting ; shaping something unremarkable to a display of skill and artistry.

Ratio thinks studious scholar should never limit their perspectives, which is why he tries to broaden his agenda with new experiences constantly — or at least, that's the excuse he ultimately settles on. He's yet to tell you of this, but he's certain he's acquired quite the quantity of knowledge on makeup from his observations. He knows the difference between foundations and concealers, in which order the cosmetics are applied and has a decent understanding about shades and highlights. It's safe to say, you can rely on him on this matter should there ever arise such an occasion.

When it comes to clothing, Ratio appears to be quite indecisive, form fitting or loose, he has no issues. The area where he is particularly strict, is hygiene. Which means no missed baths, or any half-hearted showers. After he's found himself comfortable in your presence, he'll take personal initiative to make sure your baths are never boring. Fragrant body washes, essential oils, exquisite rose water, bath bombs, shampoos — he has it all covered. Another astounding discovery for the scholar was that he adores taking care of your hair, in particular. He always takes extra caution when washing it, buys smoother combs so that it might not get damaged and occasionally tries different hairstyles — though he's not very skilled at it. But learning has never been an effortless process to begin with, he's sure he'll be able to decorate your hair the way he desires properly one day.

-; ੈ♡˳ BLADE

Blade seldom comments on your choice of attire, but it doesn't mean that he never thinks about it. He prefers to dismiss most of those bubbling thoughts, for what does a weapon understand of fashion senses and trends? What he does offer you instead are drawling stares tiptoeing before the line of glares. Insufficient time knowing the enigmatic Stellaron Hunter will prove your inefficiency in understanding his brooding gazes. Should you directly ask his opinion on a certain outfit, it'll not earn you more than a grunt or a hum. But coming from Blade, that would be considered a lot.

In truth, Blade finds himself bewildered before the feelings you stir within him through the most mundane actions. He was certain that wanton emotions, urges and his humanity were devoured by the curse. For centuries, he wandered without a definitive purpose, stewing in the rage and hatred bubbling from his fate. Above all, he did not think himself human. So when you, in all your bright and humane light dug through the battered cage of his ribs and made yourself its soul resident, tugging him closer closer closer towards that tunnel's end through seemingly meaningless antics — Blade was lost.

It made him afraid sometimes, for the unreachable end that he always clawed towards seemed to lose its appeal before you. When he realized one day that he liked lighter colors on you, that he enjoyed watching you practice a hairstyle for hours, that he loved how your lips shimmer after a swipe of lip gloss, that he'd not trade the matching tassels you gifted him on a whim for the universe — the appalling realization that living is just a tiny bit more bearable with you around crashed on his beliefs and destroyed him beyond repair. Which is why, for the longest time, he didn't know how to respond to any of your gestures ; far too occupied with processing whether its the talons of mara digging into his sanity or just plain pleasant emotions.

Blade is often irresolute when you ask for his opinion on your clothing, not because he has not the faintest idea of what is considered appealing but because, you just look good in everything in his eyes. There's a particular garment though, form fitting Qipao with cheeky side slits that had him run the first time you wore it. Only after Kafka's reassurance that no, it isn't his mara was he able to gather the courage to approach you again. In conclusion, be prepared for every possible outcome when you're dolling yourself up for Blade.

[stars-for-circe]

Save A Horse… (1000 Special) - Part 1

Tags / cw: headcanons, cowboy!ellie x high society/noble victorian!reader, 1800s dual Victorian and Wild West eras, historical romance, hidden/forbidden romance, sexual tension, fluff

Surrounded by other patrons in a busy seaside bar, Ellie sat in the corner booth, lazily swirling a whiskey glass in clockwise motions. Her Stetson hung low on her head, hiding her face from the many who chose to seek shelter from the sweltering heat. Occasionally, the doors would be opened, letting in the bright midday sun and outdoor buzz, but the ambiance of the bar remained otherwise undisturbed. Peace and fucking quiet - something Ellie had been needing.

Cowboy!Ellie who was drinking at that oceanside bar when your family first arrived in the Americas

She could remember it clear as day, how it went from a bustling street outside to yelling and gathering in excitement. It seemed that everyone was rather keen to see the new family - and new wealth - moving into the town.

She could also remember the bells ringing and the thudding of the wooden stairs as they lowered for your family to step off the ship, one by one. Curiosity won, Ellie thought, as she raised her hat to take a look out of the window next to her, and she counted four people - two parents and two young boys. Behind them a large group of maids carrying enough luggage to weigh down a small boat.

For a moment, Ellie thought that was that, but then - in the corner of her eye - came a flurry of bright fabric as you ran to the stairs, almost tripping in your dress on the way down. And for the first time in a long time, that heady buzz of the port went quiet, as almost every man (and some women too, Ellie noticed) watched you in awe.

But Ellie ignored everyone else, and their plans and advances on you. Because the moment you stepped off the ship, catching her eye - and quite possibly her heart - in the process, Ellie knew you would be hers.

Cowboy!Ellie who was hired to do work on your property, only to meet you the very first day

The estate your father bought was fucking huge - she could tell from the very end of the winding road leading up to the hill it stood on. But the paddocks were messy, and unkempt. In hindsight, Ellie really should have guessed she’d be hired to fix it up…

…And also get closer to you, of course.

It was a boiling hot day that she was ordered to ride shimmer up to the property, for a tour and and instructions and all that. And by the time Ellie got up there, she was drenched in sweat - all this money and they couldn’t offer her a carriage or something?

It was just before noon, too, so it would only get hotter. Ellie could only hope that the first few hours would be spent inside the property and away from the afternoon sun. She unbuttoned her shirt down by two, pulling it back. and forth to uselessly fan her partially exposed chest. This was a bullshit job for the pay she was promised.

But, she thought, as she noticed not one, but two figures walking out to meet her on the patio, the promise of you once again most definitely payed the rest. God, you were even more beautiful closer up - the sun casting a glow on your face, as the wind at the top of the hill blew your hair around your face like a halo, and the baby blue silks of your dress around you like rippling water.

You walked up to her with your father, as he introduced the both of you to Ellie, and welcomed her to the property along with all the other necessary formalities. She shook hands with him - quite firmly, too - as he told her of the projects and repairs needed to be done on the property. But she couldn't help but let her eyes trace back to you, as you took turns glancing at your father as he spoke, and at Ellie. Or more specifically her hands, that now rested at her side after she shook hands with him.

Partly, she listened to the long list of chores your father had set up, but Ellie was mostly just focused on your wandering eyes finding their way back to hers, and she smirked softly as you blinked in surprise when you realised she was already looking at you, taking you out of your trance. And, as your expression grew slightly more shocked, cheeks warming just a tad past normal, her expression could only be described as one of a mischievous grin, as the never-ending speech your father gave only meant one thing:

She was going to be here, with you, for a while.

Cowboy!Ellie who then spends every waking hour finding spare time to be around you

It would have been a few weeks by now, each day within that filled with stolen glances, shy smiles and sly smirks between you two. Each and every time you passed the old storehouse Ellie had been assigned to repaint, you would feel her gaze leave the building and become fixated on you, daring you to turn around and make eye contact. You almost did - to be fair - by letting your eyes wander the grassy path between the both of you, and travel up her soiled boots and paint-stained jeans, up her dirty wife-beater hidden under baggy flannel, and to her sheening neck, almost glistening under the hot summer sun.

But never her eyes. You weren't ever going to lose that game to temptation, not when she so obviously wanted you to play. Instead, you simply walked past, book tight in your hand as you crossed the field and into the middle of an empty paddock, letting her gaze follow you all the way to the large oak tree standing proudly in the centre - after staying here for a while, you had found the perfect place to read. And, well, the swings on hanging down from the tree gave you the perfect view of Ellie hard at work, safe from her attention.

Unfortunately, however, it seemed that you had been spotted after all these weeks. At first, you hadn't even noticed, much too engrossed in your book. But the clearing of her throat as she smirked down at you, hands on her hips, told you everything you needed to know.

"Nice book you're reading" She spoke, taking her eyes off you as she leaned against the trunk of the tree behind you, placing a cigarette between her lips. And the sun at this time of day did nothing to help, creating shadows and rays through the leaves that made her just that much hotter.

"You mind?" She asked, raising a brow while making a gesture to the lighter in her hand.

"Not at all" you replied, taking your attention back to your reading, before registering what she said. You furrowed your brows and snapped your book shut.

"I didn't know you read books."

She glanced up at you as you said that, huffing out a laugh as she took the lit cigarette from between her lips, the smoke billowing out of her open mouth.

"Nah, but those books definitely ring a bell, doll." You paused, confused for a moment, before realising what exactly you had brought out with you.

"I- you mean you- you're..?"

Ellie let out a full on chuckle this time, kicking her leg out from off the tree trunk and putting the cigarette back between her lips. She took another puff, before giving you once last glance as she walked off. But not before calling out to you one last time, as she headed back downhill.

"You're a smart girl, doll. You'd be right to trust your gut."

...Damn those sapphic poets.

Author's note: *peeks head behind door slowly* hiiiii.......No but actually, I went MIA for a bit sorry ab that </3, there's actually a lot more to life than tumblr when you discover the outside world and fresh air, surprisingly. But anyways! I hit 1000 about a month ago and felt like I really should have posted something for it so here's this! There's actually another half thats incomplete but I felt like you guys at least deserved something after so long without any posts, so here u go <3

Taglist: @happysparklingshadows @irelandzo @r3starttt @iamaboringrattat @genderfluidlesbain999 @slut4mascss @rxreaqia @kylorey25 @massivepeacefemme @elliewilliamsfavborderhopper @ratdungeon @elxarw @mariasabanahabanabana @vvynia @abbyshands @flowersforvi

[emocheol]

seventeens pet name for you

seungcheol

baby

loves to be a caretaker so having you be his baby is natural.

he’s always holding you in his arms, almost like he’s trying to protect you from the world and keep you to himself.

when you’re tired you actually get into baby mode and he loves doting on you, knowing that you won’t fight him on it.

“baby, don’t worry i’ll do that for you”

“baby, come give me a kiss”

“baby, i missed you so much”

“baby, you know i’d do anything for you”

jeonghan

angel

sure, he’s the angel of seventeen but you’re his angel.

always says that you were sent from heaven just for him because of how perfect you are, hence an angel.

when he sees a new picture of you he’ll screenshot it and draw a halo over your head and send it back to you with a text that says ‘your halo is shining so bright, my angel’ (love makes him cheesy)

“angel, let’s stay in bed today”

“angel, can you do my hair?”

“angel, i hope you know im obsessed with you”

“angel, you’re the only one for me”

joshua

love

such a classic and gentle name, just like joshua.

he loves you so much the only word that he can think of when it comes to you is love.

if anyone calls him a simp he will gladly own that title because, duh, you’re his partner! of course he’s gonna simp over you!

will do whatever you want at the drop of a hat. he’ll even suggest cancelling his schedules if you want him to stay home, you decline but quite literally have to push him out the door to leave.

“love, come cuddle with me”

“love, i hate every second that i’m away from you”

“love, let’s get matching outfits”

“my love, you’re so perfect”

jun

sweetheart

actually spent a lot of time contemplating what your pet name should be. he didn’t want to get it wrong!

tested way too many names over multiple weeks, seeing if they rolled off the tongue, but none of them did.

finally lands on sweetheart, when he says it for the first time he knows he’s found the perfect name.

now he barely says your name, saying that sweetheart encapsulates your entire being.

“sweetheart, want me to do the dishes?”

“sweetheart, can you read me a story?”

“sweetheart, do you know how much i love you?”

“sweetheart, you’re my favorite person of all time”

soonyoung

honey

soonyoung thinks you’re sweet like honey, so he just has to call you that!

you have the same nickname for him which results in all your friends pretending to gag when you both start calling each other honey. they say it’s sickening, sickeningly sweet

likes to dote on you, would wait on hand and foot if you told him to.

“honey, do you need anything before i leave?”

“honey, i’m home!” (his favorite phrase)

“honey, let’s go on a date tonight”

“honey, you’re the sweetest person in the world”

wonwoo

babe

has always thought that pet names were cringe but when you started calling him every sweet name under the sun he knew he had to come up with one for you.

landed on the classic ‘babe’, he says it flows well, its natural when he’s talking to you now.

doesn’t want anyone else to hear him call you it, so he usually sticks to saying it at home or whispering it to you.

“babe, stay by my side, i don’t want anything happening to you”

“babe, don’t get up yet it’s too early”

“babe, you wanna see my new game?”

“babe, i adore you”

jihoon

baby

another natural caretaker, loves to be the big strong man in the relationship so naturally you’re his baby.

gets salty when you try to dote on him since he knows he should be doing it to you instead.

landed on it because you were pouting once and he said the resemblance to a baby was uncanny.

“baby, you don’t have to stay at the studio with me”

“baby, get some sleep”

“baby, let’s stay in tonight”

“baby, i know i don’t show it as much as i should, but i’m eternally grateful for you”

minghao

darling

claims that their song ‘darling’ is about you to try and make it special (it was just a coincidence but you’ll take it)

says you’re like a sparkling jewel, so perfect, so enchanting, and so darling

always talks to you in the most endearing tone, he can never be mad at you.

“darling, what do you want to have for dinner?”

“darling, let me take a picture of you”

“darling, don’t forget to call me on your break”

“darling, you’re so precious to me”

mingyu

sweetie

loves to bake you desserts and say something like ‘a sweet for my sweetie’.

thinks you’re so sweet and lovely that sweetie is a given name for you.

food is his love language so he’s always making you meals and sweet desserts.

“sweetie, try this new dish i made”

“sweetie, give me a kiss before you go”

“sweetie, give me a bite of that”

“sweetie, you’re it for me”

seokmin

love/lovie

this man is simply obsessed with, so so utterly in love, hence the name love.

everyone swears they can see hearts in his eyes when he looks at you or talks about you.

couldn’t think of a good name for you so he went to his friends being like ‘i’m so in love with them but i can’t think of a pet name! wait… love!’

“lovie, don’t forget about me :(” (you’re just going to work for the day)

“love, do you want to come to karaoke night?”

“lovie, i’m your favorite guy, right?”

“my love~, i wrote this song for you, wanna hear it?”

seungkwan

boo

yes, his nickname for you is his last name. no, it’s not weird! he’ll call you mrs./mr. boo because he can’t wait until you have his last name.

when some calls for ‘boo’ you both turn around, thinking it was for you. this just makes you both laugh and look at each other like you had a little inside secret that no one else understood.

he’ll always say it with literal hearts in his eyes.

“boo, have a good day at work”

“my boo~, i miss you”

“boo, do you want to go have a spa night?”

“my boo~, i love you to the ends of the earth”

vernon

babe

also thinks pet names are cringe so he settled on the most obvious and classic one.

but then actually he starts to like it (to his horror), and starts to call you it all the time.

only ever calls you babe now, and will be salty if you call him by his first or middle name.

“babe, get ready i’m taking you on a date”

“babe, i got you a present you’re gonna love it”

“babe, we should get a cat to be the ring bearer at our wedding”

“babe, you know i love you, right?”

chan

honey

you originally started calling chan ‘honey’ first.

he always got so giddy whenever you said it that he decided he was gonna start calling you that too, to make you feel as special as he did.

thinks it the most special name in the world and if anyone makes fun of it he’ll go to war over it.

“honey, let me show you the new dance i learned”

“honey, did you get a haircut? you look beautiful as ever”

“honey, let’s stay in bed today”

“honey, you’re my everything”

[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

[pettypiastri]

gentle hands find tender hearts — lando norris

lando norris x fem!reader summary - day 1 of testing leaves Lando sore and seeking comfort word count - 2.2k warnings - language, allusions to reader insecurity, otherwise none! note - first piece for f1, please be nice! basically just idiots in love but they're not in denial and are already dating. blame Lando's yt channel for the brainrot and info i've loosely based this on. drop by the inbox, would love to discuss all your thoughts about your fave vroom vroom boys (anons are on) 🤍 feedback always appreciated!

Seeing the green verification light flash on the hotel room card reader might be the best thing Lando’s seen all day. Decidedly the best thing he’s seen since leaving you, a vision in his shirt, behind in the crisply air conditioned room, a sleepy smile on your face after he pressed a final kiss to your forehead. Which, notably, he’d only managed to find after a two-handed effort to sort through your messy hair swathing your face and neck. He’d traded all that in for the Bahrain humidity that’s somehow made itself a home in the aching in his head and the weight he still feels bearing on his neck. Seeing you now, just as pretty as this morning, he’s certain a ‘meh’ day 1 of pre-season testing did not make up for what he’d left behind at 6:45. Not even close.

You’re perched on the king sized bed, white hotel bedding bleached beyond identity, with a book in your hand and Lando wants to cry. Or maybe huff frustratedly. At the very least kiss you immediately. The smile you give Lando upon seeing his head of deflated curls peek around the wall, the one you always give him that reaches your eyes and consumes his soul, has his shoulders sagging. More than 100 laps and hours of data threaten to finally crush him as he drags himself toward you, items falling from his hands in time with his steps. Bucket hat, wallet, key card until it's just him, drained and pouty, eager to demand your comfort. Blindly you dog ear your page, cataloging his schlumpy movements. 

“What’s wrong gorgeous?” 

A resounding ‘oomph’ leaves your chest as your boyfriend falls against your frame. Strong hands reach under your hoodie seeking soft skin. Even though Lando’s been in the heat all day, it’s nothing like the toe curling, soul unfurling warmth you can provide. These days, he always seems to feel a chill in his chest when you’re not around. 

“Shit day,” he grumbles, fabric sticking to his parted lips as he snuggles against your chest. Overwhelming fondness makes your heart ache, a playful quip is briefly delayed. As a distraction, your hands gravitate to mirror his, wrapping around his broad shoulders and back. One comb of your fingers through his mangy curls has them frizzing up, tendrils reaching out to tickle your nose. 

“Oh, s’that all?” A sharp pinch between your ribs in retaliation has you tightening your grip in Lando’s hair. Your free flowing giggle encourages Lando to elaborate, his traitorous smile hidden against fabric. 

“ ‘M sore. Back, neck… pride.” On instinct, your hand in his hair dips to the natural resting place on the back of his neck. A pensive hum settles on his ears.

“Hmm… Well, suppose you’re lucky you’ve got a girlfriend then.” 

A truly minimal effort grumble of confusion is all you get in response. Lando, tired and grumpy, never fails to make you smile. It’s why, with great effort, you wiggle down the bed with him still on top of you, crumpling pillows and pulling up the bottom sheet in your wake, so you can be nose to nose with him. His beautiful baby blues, with a streak of exhaustion, a fleck of frustration, and a halo of tenderness, crack open to regard you. Droopy lids are held open by a combative fondness that overpowers the weight of unmet expectations. You kiss him languidly, a need to rush nowhere to be found. Despite your initiation, you part your lips easily for him letting him control the moment how he wants. Lando always kisses you like it's his last chance, in a way that makes you feel it from your stomach down to your toes. Sometimes you find yourself crossing your fingers that you make him feel the same. 

Upon breaking apart you coax him gently, “Lay on your stomach for me? Let me take care of you.”

And Lando resigns to let you. Happily. Defenselessly. Completely. Because you always take care of him. After Sochi, after Carlos left, whenever he loses sight of himself. Your unyielding arms are always ajar for him to crash into.

Lando proves to be absolutely no help as you try to shimmy his hoodie off him, his face pressed into one of four available pillows, arms curled above his head. Your level of struggle makes you giggle, then laugh from your chest, a whine of his name mixed in. Half a cheeky smile is visible from Lando as he peeks an eye open to regard you. He lifts one arm begrudgingly and then the other, allowing you to successfully free his torso.

Gently you lay the hoodie to your side and scan his lean back. You watch his shoulders flex as he shifts again to get fully comfortable, the dimples in his lower back popping in and out. His golden skin, a tan you watched bloom over a long offseason, calls for your careful touch. 

One of your thighs raises to straddle the backs of his, finding a comfortable position atop his legs. As if in anticipation of your tenderness, an adorable sigh whistles out through Lando’s nose. Moving just by instinct, your careful hands start at the small of his back, digging in just enough with your thumbs to coax the tension out. Briefly you wonder if the tiny hiss Lando lets out is one of appreciation or if hours in the air conditioned hotel room have left your extremities just on the wrong side of chilly. You’re reassured when a more full chested sigh escapes your boyfriend upon your hands reaching the apex of his shoulders in one long motion of your hands. The look of contentment is already beginning to set in on Lando’s striking face as you continue carefully in fluid, albeit improvised, movements. 

There is a stillness in the room that welcomes the almost inaudible efforts of your hands pushing into his muscles and grants permission for your mind to wander. A dull hum from the air conditioning unit aims to harmonize with Lando’s consistent sighs. On instinct you itch to trace a pattern between his birthmarks, taking a moment to appreciate even the smallest parts of him. 

As now warmed fingers detour from their ritualistic path up his back, you stop at one mole, marveling that it looks the exact same shade of brown as the coffee was on your second date. A cup of which had steamed up between your eyes as you glanced sheepishly over the porcelain rim at him, hoping he couldn’t see you staring. The waitress had led with ‘how cute a couple the two of you make’ before informing you it was closing time. Lando had not corrected her. Instead he’d offered you his jacket before walking you home. You’d kissed him before you even made it to your street. The tableau, illuminated by a dusty streetlamp, saw you pushing him back with a hand on his chest when you realized you wouldn’t be able to stop if you carried on a second longer. Lando had found it sickeningly endearing. 

Another birthmark on your course upwards is a bit lighter, more oval, something like the dirt track he had taken you to watch rallying at with his siblings last winter. You’d shared lip gloss with one of his sisters and been asked for advice on the boy problems of the other. Lando’s brother Oliver realized he didn't even have to ask how serious things were when he’d caught Lando staring at you when he thought no one was watching. Oliver had leant over to ask him a question, only to find Lando didn’t even know who the race leader was as he’d practically not taken his eyes off you. You, just existing. Eager eyes darting around attentively at the flurries of dirt before you, your hand on Lando’s wrist, spinning the bracelet his Nan gifted him with absentminded ease. Later he’d watched Lando take about 30 photos of you as you wandered the merch booths and food stands, all of which you were none the wiser to and Oliver knew you never would be. 

The birthmark just at the base of his neck is the one you noticed peeking out from his t-shirt late one warm night in Monaco. When your eyes yearned to fix on something stable. Something safe. Lando’s hand had reached back for yours as he lead you through the Monaco streets. You’d linked your pinky with his, too shy to feel the warmth of his whole hand in yours. He’d driven the two of you around in his Jolly, for once abiding by the speed postings; he was in no rush with you. You recall being envious of the wind ruffling his hair, wishing it was you instead. The hand he placed on your exposed thigh had you looking the opposite direction to hide your glowing cheeks.

Slowly, so as not to startle him, you scooch to sit over the center of Lando’s back, bringing his strong neck into an accessible range. Your thumbs dig into the sides, freestyling a way to massage such a random part of the body in such desperate need of TLC. His curls that you’ve worshiped, pulled on, and braided for the past years are welcomed into the special treatment with your fingers sliding against his scalp before beginning at the base of his neck again.

Lando had looked at you sideways when you’d once commented on his strong neck being one of your favorite features of his. Refusal to elaborate was betrayed by your full body flush and flitting eyes as he leaned over you, hands settling on the arms of the chair you were sat in. That was just last month; he still makes you nervous. 

Nervous in the way that makes your breath catch and your palms clam up. Nervousness akin more to anticipation than anything else; woven with glee and eagerness. Something like you feel right now, realizing you haven’t kissed him in 15 minutes and your hands are starting to cramp. Leaning down, you press a peck to his exposed cheek, Lando’s cologne filling your nose. For someone you thought was asleep, his eye cracks open the instant your lips part from his skin. 

Lando regards you for just a moment before, with much difficulty given his current position and slight delirium, moving to wrangle you so you’re lying down chest to chest with him. One of his arms drapes over your neck, hand planted behind your head, creating a little bubble made just for your heads. Something unrupturable and uninterrupted where he can stare at you without needing a reason.

The eyes you’re met with are droopy, full of contentment, and overflowing with affection. It’s a look that you used to think you’d never receive from someone else. But Lando’s never been afraid to be loud with his love. It took some time, some proof of dedication from him that the beaming smile and honest eyes were not a fluke, for you to bloom. Now when you’re with him, you don’t care who’s looking. You love who you are in his company, how unafraid to occupy space you become. It draws you to place your hand on his stubbled cheek (that you will not stop teasing him about) and stroke your thumb slowly over his skin. On instinct Lando nuzzles closer, so eager to be doted on by you. His lips find yours in an intimate kiss. 

“Thank you baby,” he murmurs, words meant just for you, so soft they would’ve been mistaken for a flicker of the moonlight had you not been paying attention. 

You assume he means for the massage. He assumes you know it’s for everything else: all the support and love and devotion you show him. It’s bliss with you. Lando had gotten over trying to fight against the never-ending spiral of longing, lust, and love in every moment, word, and movement with you, a long time ago. Now he welcomes drowning in your smile and voice and touch. He yearns for the overwhelming clench in his chest and weightlessness of his body. He’s given himself over completely to you in hopes of his demise at the sight of your warm eyes and the way you say his name.

Lando finds his heart squeezing again just from looking at you, curled against him in a random Hilton somewhere in the Middle East. The only remedy, the only distraction is to kiss you again, gently but full of meaning. It makes you blush, afire under his adoring gaze, feeling so safe but exposed, heart bared fully to him. 

In the sacred hush of your hotel room you scoot just a fraction until your nose skims his, eyes fluttering closed. Upturned lips brush against yours involuntarily. 

A deep exhale leaves Lando’s nose, tickling the peach fuzz of your upper lip. It conveys total peace and comfort. It says somehow, this is all he needs. This is how life looks for him when his mind wanders to years his senior. Maybe there’s more noise around your little bubble, more feet, decidedly smaller than the both of yours, leaving prints on your hearts. But you and him together like this? It’s constant, transcendent of location or hardship or outside noise. You and him together like this, with 'I love you's' as the night's lullaby, is not just enough, it’s everything.

[jazjelspen]

devil's spawn.

angel alastor w/ radio demon daughter reader

(notes: based off of the concept of my other story 'my angel baby' except alastor and his adopted daughter switch places and personalities. In Alastor's pov (?)in this chapter.)

(caution: RUSHED!! definitely rushed qwq so I greatly apologize. Not proofread in the slightest. Might have cringe parts am so sorriy qwq)

(Alastor is still in a way the angel version of 'the radio demon' except he's called 'the radio angel' by his fans, but he doesn't refer to himself as such since angel alastor is actually humble)

(I'm willing to make another part but considering Hs becoming more stressful and it blowing my brain up it'll definitely take time, but always willing to make more if wanted/needed)

It was another bright and fresh day in heaven, Alastor clinging the laundry up on the line while his mother, whom he managed to find in his decades inside the pearly gates, sat on a rocking chair reading a book as she usually would.

The bright heavenly lights making his halo shine, complimenting his wings, other neighborly 'winners' he would be acquainted with would walk by and greet him with a wave or a tip of their hats to him while he was outside fixing their clothes.

In this particular universe, Alastor is the complete opposite of his original counterpart. Where the original Alastor would hurt and destroy, this version of him would care and heal. He was selfless, kind, compassionate and sympathetic to which again is also a complete twist around compared his original self.

Alastor died out of an accidental kill, mistaken for a deer and shot through the head while he was out in the forest collecting his adoptive daughter's favorite flowers, at her favorite flower meadow on the day of her eighteenth birthday.

Unfortunately due to missing his baby girl's birthday and being taken away from her too soon for his liking he has been living in pure regret, panic, and pure sorrow form having to leave her too early and it pained him everyday.

He raised you all by himself while juggling his passion for radio hosting, finding comfort in your innocence and smiles when he first found you and as you grew up you gave him a reason to live and work.

That's the only thing that him and the original sadistic version Alastor have in common; the fatherly love for their daughters who are also their entire lives. Their love traverses across universes.

Eventually the more you grew up the more.. peculiar and unique you became.. your innocence would melt away with a sadistic fire in your eyes that he would notice at times but would try his best to lead you in the ways of love and compassion which you had for him but lacked for those around you..

Alastor was finishing up his morning chores for his mother's home before he would eventually go back inside and get a few necessities before leaving his home. His pearly coat, his shining microphone staff, fix his appearance in the mirror just a tad, and finally hugging his mother goodbye from the porch to head up and down the street towards the main part of the city.

Yes, he was still a radio host as well too.

Instead of broadcasting screams of pain and terror from sinners he instead would give voices to those who wished to express their passions, interview everyday folk and influential people on opinions and advice to those listening to his radio show and he even has good connections and acquaintances to the high Seraphims of heaven in order to get the latest news in the ruling of heaven.

He's just as famous as he was in life, maybe more considering how many people there are in heaven alone.

His polished shoes creating sounds on the pavement as he hummed a special tune that he adores, a tune he used to sing to you. Yet again still greeting passing by acquaintances and fans of his show with genuine glee and care.

Alastor waved off to an old friend while walking by, shining his taken cared for smile. "Good to see you again Roger, don't forget to tune in soon in a few hours! It'll be a real gas so don't miss i-- oh my!"

Alastor looked down as he seemed to bump into someone small, looking down at his feet he saw a young little girl. Another fellow 'winner' she seemed to have bumped into him with chocolate smeared around her mouth with a giddy yet apologetic smile on her face. And unfortunately smeared some chocolate on his pants.

"Hiya mister!" she waved, showing her dirtied little hand as well "Sorries! I didn't watch where I was going..!"

Alastor noticed the stain and his jaw hung slightly from surprise but then immediately laughed it off, petting the young girl on the head in understanding.

"Oh little one, don't worry about it at all! Here, so you can clean yourself up." He then took a white embroidered handkerchief for his chest pocket to give to the little girl who then wiped her face and her hands, seeing her struggle a bit Alastor graciously held her hands gently to wipe them off for her and her nose as well.

"Mary!" A voice exclaimed that approached, a woman than came into view, a winner as well. "Oh! Well if it isn't our most kind radio host! I deeply apologize about my daughter sir.." The mother would smile sheepishly and apologetically. "Thank you so much for helping my little girl, I apologize for her clumsiness! Could I perhaps offer you help of any kind?..”

Alastor shook his head as he would then neatly fold the handkerchief and saved it in his coat this time so that he could remember to wash it when he got back home. "Oh no no! No need ma'am, it's nothing a little magic can't cover up for the time being!" He smiled at the woman who now had her hands placed on her daughter's shoulders with a sigh slipping through her lips. He looked down at the girl as he gave her a pat on the head "On the other hand, are you okay dear? I do hope you didn't hit yourself too hard!.."

The little girl shook her head as well in reply, "Nu-uh mister! Thank you for helping me! I promise not to bump into anymore misters or any misseses!" Oh her messing up of words ringed a bell in his head

"How darling! Take care of yourself and your mother now, " He looked up at the woman to then lower his head slightly in respect before resuming his steps again "Apologies for the rush, just trying to see if I can get some special guests on my radio show tonight!"

The woman waved at him 'goodbye' with her young girl following suit "Oh I sure hope they agree! Good day to you Alastor!"

"Good day to you as well madame!" he waved back as he finally took enough steps away from them to now get a clearer view of the inside of the city.

He couldn't help but sigh in despair, he remembers when he used to have his own little girl.

Took care of her as if she was his own blood, as if they came form the same flesh and heritage.

And although you didn't, he never loved you any less.

His smile faltered slightly but picked it up quickly, rushing towards the next moving tram that he recognized to get to his destination: the middle of the city. Once he saw one and hopped on, he could feel his heart pump with blood he once had as red and now as gold as the tears of the elder angels.

If what he heard was right, he would try to get a segment with three special guests from hell.

Sure, he knew that they came from a place of bad and evil but that didn't deter him any less. From life to death he would give voices to everyone that needed to be heard and he would follow it no matter where someone came from.

The fresh breezes and the smell of bakeries, restaurants, the sounds of workers in mom and pop shops and independent growing businesses were like music. He could've sworn that even the laughter of children and the chattering of friends, couples, and families amongst each other turned into melodies in through his brain circuits.

Heaven was.. heaven.

But his only sin was not speaking out at heaven's hypocrisy or flaws at times. Many times he would but it turned into heaven setting restrictions on him.. silencing his own voice. He was never fond of that but apparently according to Sera and that blasphemous Adam, it was required. 'To avoid panic and prevent disturbances amongst the people of heaven' or so they'd say.

He was working on a way to go around that.. change their minds. But it was much harder than he anticipated.

Oh!-- The tram stopped with a loud hiss and ring.

Alastor snapped out of his thoughts would hop off the tram and finally start resuming his walk. He was now just a block away, the more he walked the less the voices and sounds of work distanced, entering a quieter part of the city. He was now in the smack middle of the entrance to heaven, where ice cream shops were laid in rows, cafes as well, people quietly chatting and drinking their beverages or eating their food.

Oh! And he could heard a familiar tune! It was that one.. welcome song that St. Peter would often sing..

Not a favorite song of his.. at all.. but he applauded them for effort!

Maybe a splash of swing or jazz would bring it to life.. but he assumed that was the old man in him talking.

For the time being he decided to watch some place nearby yet not too close since he knew that if he stayed where he was he would be caught up in the performance and he would have to sing with them..

Waiting at the side and hearing the singing come closer and close Alastor would make himself busy by polishing his microphone with his breathe and sleeve, fixing and dusting himself off as to not give any bad first impressions.

And thankfully he managed to remember his stain that the little girl left-- forgetting about it due to wanting to get to his destination on time and helping the poor thing. With a gentle swish of his staff pointed at the stained he then managed to cover it with his heaven-given magic.

Once the full group performance made his way towards his direction was when he stood up straight, chin high, shoulders fixed, looking good as always Alastor.

He heard Emily's voice among the performance, the youngest of the two Seraphims.

He's quite close with the two, at first only starting as something for business until one day he got closer to them and confessed his past, and his regrets.

Emily reminds him much of his daughter, the high angel having an enthusiasm and mentality of a late teenager or young woman, same age his daughter was when he last saw her.

He thought, wondered, pondered, dreamed-- what his little girl grew up into.

His eyes stared at his microphone, the shine of silver blinding him when he turned it for a spot of sunshine to burn his eyes slightly.

Did she grow up into an incredible woman? Did she ever find love? Settle down and have children? How has she matured? Does she resent him for leaving him so soon even if he never meant to? Does she look completely different? Did she ever change her name?

Were you even up here at all?

He hopes you were, looking and asking for you far and wide in heaven. Did you seclude yourself? Did you hide from him on purpose?

Or were you simply in hell..

No-- his little girl couldn't be in hell. Sure she had concerning hobbies, thoughts, ways of doing things but it didn't deserve her going to hell of all places.

You had to be up here, somewhere.. you had to.

A somber sigh escaped his lips as he stared at his reflection in the object between his palms and fingers. His heavy heart tugging and ripping itself apart.

'my little girl.. where are you?'

"Alastor!! Hey!"

A young voice shouted at him from afar, looking up he saw Emily wave and ushered him to head towards her way from afar.

He let go of his guilt for now, and shined his iconic smile as always.

"Why hello Emily, Sera," he lowered his head at the high angels in respect for them "How may I help you ladies today? I see we have new visitors!" His head moved to look at the other three ladies in front of him that came from below.

There was a young woman with eyes that shared the same enthusiasm as Emily's did, hair of sunshine and gold, fangs as sharp reminiscing those of a blood bat, small and thin frame and an outfit that successfully mimics casual sophistication.

Another young girl to her right was one that seemed more reminiscent of an angel, her long hair filled with silver and moon, a gaze as sharp as broken, stance serious and unapologetic, she seemed ready to protect the blonde girl beside her but also had eyes of worry and a sense of uncomfortability haunted her features and her almost slouched back.

The last one, really shook him up.

The next young woman to the left of the blonde girl was adorned in nothing but pure red with tones of a deep hot pink in her entire look. Her clothes were of an era he knew of very well, of course he'd recognize clothes from the 30s!.. except they had a few odd touches that more or so reminded him of the 40s or heck maybe even 50s.. a bit more ahead of his time. She had a large sharp smile that screamed of mischief and eyes that are waiting to do something-- anything sinister.

Despite all this, these characteristics weren’t the ones that shook him to his core.

She looked like someone he knew, that he missed.

"Everyone, this is Alastor. He's heaven's most famous and influential radio host! Giving voices to the voiceless when he was alive and even more up here, and of course due to his selfless acts when he was alive he was blessed to be let through the gates of heaven." spoke Sera, introducing the 'winner' as he chuckled sheepishly.

"Oh thank you Sera, but it's nothing really! Just had to do what was right."

Sera then lead his eyes back to the newcomers, having him face directly to the girl with hair of sunshine first. "Alastor, I present to you the Princess of Hell and heir to the throne, Charlie Morningstar. She's here to present a few ideas to the court the next day."

Alastor's eyes widened in surprise, "Princess! I didn't know royalty were to visit us today!" he bowed down towards the girl as to pay his respects, standing back straight once he finished. "A pleasure to meet you sweetheart quite the pleasure! Didn't expect our guests to be of royalty so apologies to any bad manners."

The princess shook her head with a large smile "Oh!-- don't worry you didn't give off any bad manners! It's nice to meet you too Mr...Alastor!.. it.. it's very admirable what you did before and what you do now! You seem to have earned your place here quite well!"

The man shook his head as well in reply "Oh like I said it's nothing! If anything I should thank my daughter, she was my reason and my motivation to be nothing but kind to others to present a good example! I continue to do so in her honor."

Charlie's eyes grew as a soft 'awwww' escaped her lips "You must love your daughter very much..!"

Alastor nodded, "Of course I do! As a father always should!"

Charlie opened her mouth again to speak, her eyes filled with a sense of bittersweetness until she was suddenly interrupted by the young woman dressed in red. She walked in between Alastor and Charlie with a sense of charm and enthusiasm, the spirit of a presenter or spokesperson shining in her body language and way of speaking.

"How delightful! The love of a parent transcends heaven and earth! Now that's poetry!" the girl's voice was glitched out and heavily amplified with a strong sound of static, as if her vocal cords came straight from a radio speaker. She held a staff much similar to his, except her's was shorter and more compact-able.

The girl with silver hair rolled her eyes in nothing but pure irritation, Charlie giggled nervously as she then pointed her way towards the one who spoke. "And this is ______! She's the founder and host of my hotel back in hell! She's helped me throughout everything and I dont think I would be able to get to this point if It weren't for her help as well!"

Ah,

He knew it.

______, anyone could have that name.

But you looked like his daughter, his pride and joy.

His face still shines with a smile but his eyes are baffled with the sudden hit of realization.

It couldn't be a coincidence-- you looked like her, your eyes had that spark he always used to see in his daughter before he left. The way of speaking, that stance-- more confident and mature but the way you spoke.. your vocals were a match to his daughter's just with a touch of years to it.

And you looked at him as if you knew as well, eyes narrowing with piqued interest. Sharp smile widening an-

wait..

what?..--

You seemed to have almost hopped right in front of him with your hand suddenly shaking his. "A real pleasure to meet you sir! Quite the pleasure!"

You mimicked his greeting yet somehow you spoke it so naturally, as if spoken a billion times before. He was stunned, if there weren't people around he would've slipped and broken down right here right now--

but he cannot, will not.

He will not worry others, he will not bother others with his emotions.

"Good to meet you Ms.."

"______. Simply call me ______." Your sinister grin only stretched, a sense of despair fell into the pit of his stomach,

His little girl in hell?

Did he.. fail at raising you?

Was dying too soon the reason why you let yourself fall?

Whatever the case, Alastor was nothing but stuck in a small limbo of his own guilt again

If he did this to you-- even indirectly,

he wouldn't ever forgive himself.

"Ms.. ______..."

'my little girl' he would've said, 'my daughter, how I've missed you. please forgive me for leaving you so soon... I'm so so sorry my darling..'

the words were stuck to his throat.

a small gust of air was the only thing that escaped from his cords.

Sera clapped her hands together once as a way to announce, "Well Princess Morningstar. I hope your stay here is nothing but comfortable, and I say that to your companions as well."

Sera looked at the 'winner' with confusion and a sense of concern but she knew she had to leave due to duties calling for her and Emily's presence.

Sera gently put her hand on his shoulder, "Alastor, would you perhaps show them where their hotel is and how to check in? It's going to be the one nearby."

'the one nearby' he thought, 'a block away.. '

"of course! anything to make our guests feel more welcomed!"

Sera nodded in 'thanks' before flying off with Emily on her side, herself also waving goodbye to all of you as well.

Alastor paused, before finally turning his head at the girls.

"Well, let's get you all to where you'll stay for the time being!.."

He will find out what happened to you, what went wrong, how he messed up.. he'll beg for forgiveness from you. for you were and still are his reason for who he is.

you were his one and only daughter, he will make it up to you.

"Follow me now! Time isn't going any slower!"

Little did he know, he wasn't at fault at all.

You were just born that way.

You knew what you were and you embraced it as a way to cope from him being taken away from you.

Of course you had to blend in and you took on the mantle of taking over your late father's radio show, eventually becoming as famous as he was and you were nothing but just as charming as he was on his show.

But then you killed, the power imbalance favoring you was nothing but amazing to you.

Years later, you enjoyed it. Killing was your life's purpose. Your crimes were never a subject for you to ever regret or feel guilt for.

You regret nothing.

You were a merciless killer then, and one now.

Through earth and hell, forevermore.

[nicksolemnlyswears]

WELCOME HOME

MASTERLIST

pairing: opla!mihawk x reader

word count: 3.2k

warnings: 18+, swearing, smut, slight knife play, oral (female receiving), p in v, slight breeding kink

a/n: i got carried away with the fluff at the end. as much as i love smut i also love some domestic ass fluff which is very clear here lol.

i started this a while ago but got busy and only managed to finish it today! next up i’ve got buggy. i actually have two ideas for him. both have smut but the premise is so different lol. let’s just say one has a prominent daddy kink.

this might be very ooc! mihawk, again i’ve only watched the live action. i would like to start the anime but those 1,000 episodes are intimidating to say the least.

Working for the Marines proved to be useful for Mihawk. His bounty was canceled, and he got to travel and get up to shenanigans that would otherwise bring him trouble.

Mihawk gets to strike pirate after pirate, which benefits him greatly. It gives him the opportunity to search for the one meant to surpass him while getting paid. No one has come close to beating him yet.

After another tedious mission, Mihawk returns home. He opens the grand doors of his castle and leaves his hat and coat by the door. He silently goes deep into the castle and into his bedroom, unhooking Yoru from his back and placing it by the bed.

He removes his boots and pants while keeping his eyes on the figure sprawled on the bed. His dear wife sleeps peacefully on her stomach, her hair casting a halo on the white pillows.

He tries his hardest not to wake you, but you groggily open your eyes as he lays on the bed. He stares back at you apologetically, kissing the back of your head.

"You're back," you sigh, closing your eyes again. Your muscles relax when you see it's your husband who has returned from his latest mission.

Normally, you'd greet him much more enthusiastically. However, the sky outside is still a deep shade of blue, the stars twinkling brightly to shine some light on the otherwise dark room. And you have had a long, exhausting day that is pulling you back to sleep.

"Just got back," he responds softly. His eyes trace over your exposed figure. It's a warm summer night if the sheets crumpled by the end of the bed are any indication.

He was away longer than he expected. It's times like these that he resents his agreement with the Marines. He will resent anything that keeps you away from him. He would take you with him if your circumstances were different, but it's too dangerous. 

You suddenly feel his touch on your back, but pay him no mind as sleep threatens to take you away once more. Mihawk traces your exposed skin with his small blade Kogatana. He likes seeing two of his priced possessions in his grasp.

He'd never dare cut you with it. That's reserved for his enemies. Enemies who would be scared by the mere sight of Mihawk, but you simply melt under his gaze without a worry in the world. The touch of the cold blade familiar and comforting.

"Don't you dare cut through my clothes again, Mihawk," you suddenly threaten when he glides the blade over your night dress. You might be safe from the sharpness of his blades, but your clothes never are.

"Or what?" he asks, lifting your silky nightgown with the blade. Just a bit more tension, and it will cut through the fabric. There's an unmistakable smile on his handsome face.

"Fuck around and find out," you groan, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows. Deep down, you know you're not getting any rest anytime soon. Mihawk is clearly in a particular mood.

"Is this how you receive me? With empty threats?" Mihawk teases you. He follows it with a "Tsk, I expected more from you."

"My love, it's four in the morning. My brain isn't working properly, but rest assured it'll come up with something by morning," you huff, burying your face on the pillow.

"I'm dying to find out what you come up with. In the meantime, I'll fuck around." Mihawk says with a tone that warns you he's up to no good.

In an instant, you hear the blade ripping through the material of your nightgown. The cut is clean and precise, exposing your skin to the room's humid air.

"Mihawk!" You groan, annoyed but far from surprised. Another piece of clothing ruined by Kogatana. Add it to the tally.

"Screaming my name already? I've barely touched you," Mihawk chuckles, amused at his joke. He traces his lips down your spine, pressing kisses along the curve of your back.

"Idiot…" you mumble with a small grin. You prop yourself up on your elbows, still on your stomach, looking at your husband over your shoulder.

"All yours, darling," he responds cheekily, biting down on your exposed ass cheek.

"Hey!" You giggle, wiggling under his hold. Mihawk pins you down with his body as he comes back up.

Mihawk brushes your hair over one of your shoulders to dig his head into the crook of your neck, kissing your pulse point. You smile at this, having missed his touch like the familiar scrape of his beard on your skin.

Mihawk gives you enough space to turn around in his grasp. You cup his face and say, "I missed you. A few more days and I would've gone out in search of you." Your thumbs mindlessly rub over his jaw. No matter how much he cuts through your clothes, you love him.

Your actions bring him comfort as he leans into your touch, "My apologies. Will you allow me to make it up to you?"

You pretend to think as he stares you down. His gaze is soft and loving and filled with playfulness. Playfulness that is reserved only for you. "It's the least you can do," you finally respond, touching his lips.

Mihawk closes the gap in an instant, kissing you senseless. He groans into the kiss as he deepens it, his tongue swiping your lips to gain entrance. He grabs your thigh, wrapping it around his waist to have you closer.

Your arms wrap around his back, scratching his skin with your nails as you pull yourself closer. Mihawk's hand comes up to your chest, pulling on the tattered fabric of your nightgown, successfully throwing it somewhere in the room.

"Don't forget you owe me another nightgown," you breathe as Mihawk kisses down your body.

"And a blouse, a skirt, a dress, and many the undergarments. But who is keeping track?" Mihawk says. He's settled between your thighs, placing open-mouthed kisses down your soft stomach.

You prop yourself up to watch him delve lower and lower down your body. He searches for your gaze when he reaches your mound, where he places a small kiss. "I'd much prefer you sleep naked. We can sleep skin to skin."

You smile and shake your head at him, biting your lip in anticipation. "What of the nights you're gone?" You ask, raising an eyebrow.

Mihawk's strong hands grasp your thighs, pulling them open. Maintaining eye contact, he traces his lips over the inside of your thighs, not quite kissing them. His facial hair tickles you and leaves goosebumps in its wake.

Not one to lose an argument, he responds, "More of a reason to stay naked. Makes it easier to touch yourself while you think of me," he purrs. You feel his breath where you need him most.

As you open your mouth to reply with a snarky comment, Mihawk takes his chance. His tongue licks up your slit, tasting you for the first time in weeks.

"Ohh."

Mihawk eats you out like a starved man lost at sea for months. His tongue licks and flicks over your clit repeatedly as his lips wrap around it to suck. You fall back on the bed with your fingers digging into his curls, pulling on them. It only spurs him on as his hips involuntarily thrust into the mattress. Pleasing you turns him on.

"I missed this cunt," he lewdly moans as he kisses the inside of your thigh, lightly biting the area.

"Mihawk," you whine, turning red-faced by his crude words.

He mimics your tone, saying your name. Your ankle digs into his back in response. He's far from hurt as he laughs into your thigh. Having had a taste, he slows it down, taking his time. Enjoying everything about you.

He spreads your lips apart, exposing your pink center to him. Strings of arousal cover you, giving your cunt a pretty sheen. You're easily embarrassed by Mihawk's actions, but your whines do nothing to stop him.

"Fucking beautiful," he purrs, thumb circling over your exposed clit.

Your fingers card through his curls, pulling them back to watch his lustful expression. No one has ever made you feel as desired as Mihawk has.

Soft breaths fall from you as you feel Mihawk's warm tongue gather the slick from your entrance. He gets lost in his pleasure as his fingers dig into your thighs. Obscene wet noises coming from his mouth, mixing with the staccato of your moans.

Each flick of his tongue gets you higher and higher, your tummy tensing under the weight of the pleasure. You whine as you get closer to your peak, small warnings Mihawk doesn't need as he's learned what each of your tells are. He's adamant about making you cum on his tongue.

It's a matter of time until he feels your legs squeezing his head and your hips bucking into him. Your back arching follows soon after as a loud cry escapes your lips.

Mihawk licks his lips, satisfied, as he pulls slightly away from you. The twitching of your cunt is not missed by his hawk eyes. He presses his palm against your center, easing you down from your high.

He crawls back up your body, kissing your nipples on his way up. You swat him away gently, feeling sensitive.

"My beautiful wife," he says once he's face to face. In his eyes, you're the most beautiful woman in the world. Your skin shines prettily with the afterglow of an orgasm.

"What's gotten into you?" You giggle, giving him exactly what he was looking for. Your smile.

"Can't a man miss his wife?" He asks, nudging your cheek with his nose as he sporadically leaves kisses on your face.

He did miss you, but he's also extremely pussydrunk. Going down on you does as much to him as it does to you, judging by the hard on pressing against your lower stomach.

"He can..." You smile, wrapping your arms around him to caress his back. "Just how much did you miss me?"

You feel his laugh in your ear as he catches your suggestive tone. Nonetheless, he whispers, "I missed you like the sun and moon miss each other."

"You're cheesy," you say, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him flush against you. His cock is between the two of you, a bead of pre dripping onto your skin.

"Don't tell anyone. Or else my reputation be ruined." Mihawk says, pressing his forehead against yours.

"It's our secret," you whisper in response with a kiss on his waiting lips.

Hiking your leg further up his body Mihawk lines himself up and pushes his cock into you. You gasp into the kiss as he fills you up until he bottoms out.

He always starts slow. The drag of your walls against his cock is a memory he never wishes to forget. He swears your cunt feels better each time he has the pleasure of being buried inside you.

His thrusts are slow but deep. He keeps a hand on your leg that's hiked up around his waist while he holds himself up with the other. The way you look up at him with wide, pleading eyes is his favorite sight in the whole wide world. Your soft gasps and cries are a symphony of their own, especially mixed with his own.

His slower pace only lasts so long as he gets lost in the way your cunt chokes his cock. He wants more. He needs more.

His resolve quickly disappears as he picks himself up to kneel on the bed. He easily pulls you closer as you slide down the bed with a yelp. His cock always inside of you.

Mihawk presses your legs up to your chest, grabbing a discarded pillow to place under your ass.

"Much better," he mutters as his hips buck against you tentatively.

"Yeah, 'cause you're not the one folded in half," you begin saying as he snaps his hips, which turns into a moan. The new angle brings tears to your eyes. The tip of his cock hitting that spot that makes you see stars.

"Don't deny it. You like when I manhandle you," he gruffs, picking up the pace of his thrusts. He further presses against the back of your thighs as he looks down when you both meet. His cock wet with both of your juices.

"I'm. Not." You pant between each one of his jerks. You leave it at that, closing your eyes to focus on the sparks of pleasure.

This is Mihawk's favorite position just because of the visual standpoint. He's in total control and gets to gauge your body's reactions.

Your scrunched up eyes as you concentrate on following your release. The biting of your lips to try and remain quiet, yet whimpers betray you. Your chest bouncing pulls him into another trance as he watches your skin blushing and your nipples hardening.

Your eyes squint open as you bring your hand down to your lower abdomen, where you say, "Feel you right here, Mihawk."

Mihawk mutters a curse under his breath. He places his hand on top of yours and asks, "Want me to cum right here too, darling?"

His moves become sharper and more precise as he bullies that spot inside you. "yes. yes. yes. Fill me up, my love," you cry out.

It's all becoming too much for you. You bring your arm up to bite on it and muffle your moans, but he still manages to coax out your voice. Your moans remain a secret in the night, heard only by Mihawk.

It's fucking glorious the way your cunt squeezes his cock when you reach your climax. The rhythmic pulses of your high urging him to continue pushing into you. You try to push him away to get him to go slower, your hands only managing to caress his abdomen before he pins them down.

He is in total control. He just needs a bit more from you. You can take it. You've done it before. Your legs shake both in exhaustion and rapture. His pace is steady as he feeds into that feeling that tightens his balls.

His hands turn to lace his fingers through yours. The sound of skin slapping echoed through the room. With hooded eyes, you watch your husband in all his glory. Trickles of sweat fall down his strong chest, and his curls are a mess atop his head. It all makes him look like a work of art.

Once more, the familiar sensation of pure euphoria washes over you, and it's enough to push Mihawk to reach that place as well. He stills inside you, his hands squeezing yours as he empties himself inside you, just like he promised.

With your hands on his hold, he brings them to his lips to kiss your palms. He follows the path down your arm until he buries his head on your shoulder. He lies there, almost crushing you under his weight, breathing you in. You wrap your arms around him, enjoying the closeness and rubbing your hands up and down his muscular back, rubbing the spots with the most tension from carrying Yoru around.

You talk in hushed whispers as you gain back your energy. It's a hard task, considering you were woken up in the middle of the night, and Mihawk probably hasn't slept in more than 24 hours.

Hours later, you feel the hard patter of footsteps nearing your bedroom. You sit up, preparing yourself despite Mihawk's heavy arm threatening to pull you back down into his embrace.

The door to your bedroom is slammed open with a bang barely second after you manage to slip on your robe.

"Wake up, wake up, it's morning!" Your loud, curly-haired boys scream as they run around the room with wooden swords.

"What's all this ruckus about?" Mihawk groans. Both boys freeze, noticing the other figure sitting up on the bed, "Papa!"

"There are my brats," Mihawk huffs as they let the swords clatter to the ground to climb the bed and throw themselves at him, "I missed the two of you," he says, hugging them and kissing their heads.

You stare lovingly at the scene in front of you. The twins were a result of your honeymoon with Mihawk. Fruits of your love, if you will.

The five-year-olds are the spitting image of their father. Kind reminders of him whenever Mihawk has to go out on a mission.

"Missed you too, Papa."

"I want some snuggles, too!" You exclaim, grabbing the twin closest to you and placing him on your lap to kiss and snuggle. He squirms and laughs as you tickle his belly.

The twins celebrate their dad's back as they cling and climb over him. You let them do as they please, considering it has been you who they've clung to for the past couple of weeks.

"Mama is sick," one of them blurts out to Mihawk, causing you to freeze.

"Mhm, Mama called the doctor to make her better!" The other echoes as you pull him to your lap to shush him.

Mihawk narrows his eyes at you as he listens to the twins ramble. You throw him a sheepish smile and quickly look down at your son, brushing his unruly curls to avoid his gaze.

"Well, Papa is home now. I'll take good care of Mama," Mihawk reassures them. "Why don't the two of you go to the kitchen and gather the ingredients for your favorite?'

"Really?" They ask in unison with excited smiles.

"Absolutely," Mihawk says just as excited, ushering the boys out of the room. As soon as they run out, he turns to you with a raised eyebrow, "Not that I'm a doctor, but you didn't seem sick a while ago."

"I didn't?" You ask incredulously, standing from the bed to sit on the vanity.

Mihawk follows you, knowing you're trying to avoid the conversation. He calls your name, kneeling down on the floor by your seat. "Why did you call the doctor?"

You sigh, mustering the courage to tell him the news. You face him as he settles between your legs. He grabs your hand and places a kiss on the back of it, giving you the courage to tell him.

"We're having another baby," you smile at him, squeezing his hand.

"You're happy?" Mihawk is ecstatic, to say the least, but he recognizes how hard your pregnancy with the twins had been. So, he toned it down for the moment.

"I'm happy," you nod, allowing him the joy of having another kid. It's been six years, and you're ready for another baby. Besides, the boys are growing up so fast that they aren't babies anymore.

Mihawk hugs you from his kneeling position, digging his head into your stomach, "You think we'll have a girl?"

"I have my fingers crossed. There's too much testosterone in this castle. One thing is for sure though, it's the last one," you tell him, kissing his head.

"Come on, darling. We have more space for two or three more..."

You roll your eyes at him and gently push him away, reminding him he has two hyperactive boys downstairs waiting for him.

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 43 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: While you couldn't stop people from talking about you and Bradley, you could absolutely stand up for yourself and your family. Bradley continued to prove that he was the man of your dreams, and you decided to show him some spur of the moment appreciation. Bradley loves you, and he recognizes that spending time with you and Noah always fills his heart to the brim.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff, smut, oral sex, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4400 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

There was no way you were going to tolerate someone talking about you like you were a brainless child who didn't deserve to be with your boyfriend. You hadn't forgotten about those engagement rings you saw on Bradley's phone. You spent half of your time thinking about Noah. Both of them were yours.

As your skirt fabric fell from your hands, you squared your shoulders and unlatched the stall door. Your heart was thudding in your chest, but it was too late now. You were met with startled eyes from the three woman, and you took a second to examine each of them in turn. You saw nothing special. You saw ordinary women who should find something else to do with their time instead of gossiping about you.

You walked right up to the sink, and they scooted out of your way as you washed your hands and dried them with one of the rolled up hand towels. After you dropped it into the discard basket, you carefully examined your still pristine makeup one last time as they stared at you in the mirror. Then you took your dark lipstick out of your pocket, swiped a little more on and pressed your lips together.

"What?" you asked, making eye contact with the redhead as you pocketed it again. "The three of you have nothing to say now?" When you were met with silence you stepped away from the sink and shrugged at the woman with black hair. "I guess I should go get my Daddy to take me home since it's past my curfew." 

You pouted a little bit and rolled your eyes when they still said nothing. But when the one who had been the most verbally aggressive toward Bradley, going so far as to threaten to touch him, opened her mouth to speak, you didn't let her. "By the way, if you want to 'accidentally' bump into my boyfriend, be my guest. There's no way he'd ever touch you otherwise."

She gasped at you as you stepped past her and made your way to the door without rushing. You didn't stick around for a response as your blood pumped hot and hard through your veins. Bradley was the only thing you wanted at the moment, and you had to bite your lip to keep from moaning as you thought about him. 

There he was, right where you left him, still talking to Natasha. When you got close enough, you could hear her telling Bradley, "I'm not leading him on, Rooster. He knows what this is. Just because you were looking for your soulmate and actually found her doesn't mean that's everyone's mission."

She smiled at you as you wrapped your arms around Bradley's waist. His forearm settled across your shoulders without hesitation as he said, "I hate that I have to be nice to you since you're the one who put that fucking dating app on my phone to begin with. Now please don't come whining to me when you break Javy's heart."

She poked his hat so it was crooked before walking away, and then you saw the three bitchy women from the restroom, and of course they were looking right at you. When you smiled at them and wiggled your fingers in a little wave as Bradley kissed the top of your head, they all turned away. 

"Hey, Daddy. Who are those women?" you asked, gesturing in their direction. 

He looked at them with a completely blank expression as he said, "The dark haired one on the left is Halo. She's a WSO, but I hardly ever fly with her. The other two work in admin on base. I have no idea what their names are. Why?"

"Just curious," you said, letting your hand slide down his body to the front of his pants. Bradley's eyes lit up and you smiled as he started to blush. "Come with me, Daddy. Let's check out which of the rare flowers are blooming."

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

"Baby, the rare flower exhibit is closed for the night," Bradley said for the second time as you and he walked deeper into the greenhouse. The pulsing beat of the music faded a bit as you led him past a sign that said EXHIBIT TEMPORARILY CLOSED, PLEASE DO NOT ENTER.

"I don't think anyone will notice if we just explore a little bit on our own," you said softly as you ducked underneath the red velvet rope that was hanging across the doorway. Bradley followed you, stooping low enough to make it underneath, but then he pulled you closer to him. The walkways were wider in here, but the lights were dimmed pretty low, and Bradley didn't want you tripping on the stone floor. 

"What do you want to look at?" he asked, but you didn't seem to be focused on any of the plants at all. You paused next to a small fountain toward the back of the room and glanced around with a smile on your lips. 

"I don't want to look at anything," you whispered, kissing him softly as you draped your arms around his neck. Your wildflower scent was better than anything else the gardens could provide. "I just wanted to show you a little appreciation."

Now he was just confused. "For what?" he asked, letting his hands come to rest on your hips as you licked his mustache. He wondered if you were still tipsy from all the champagne and berries you'd enjoyed. But when you giggled and rubbed yourself against him, he started to get the picture. 

"For being the world's best Daddy. I'm going to get you a new mug for your ridiculous collection. It'll say Noah's Daddy in the streets. Princess's Daddy in the sheets."

Bradley smiled as you laughed. "Baby, I'd use it every day."

"I know you would, because you're the best. And you're mine." Your tongue darted out one more time, swiping along his lips, but when he leaned in to kiss you, he was treated to the sight of you sinking to your knees in front of him. "Mine."

You kissed him through his snug white pants, and Bradley knew in the back of his mind that anyone else could duck under that velvet rope if they really felt like it. Two turns along the stone path, and they would know exactly what was happening here. But when you looked up at him and licked those pretty lips, the only thing he cared about was feeling them wrapped around his cock. 

"Go ahead. Show me some appreciation," he rasped, and you moaned as you tugged down his zipper and undid his button. You nuzzled your nose against his underwear as he widened his stance just a bit. It wasn't long before he was hard and huge and ready for you, and you were treating him like a treat you wanted to savor. "God, you're something else, aren't you?" he mumbled, brushing his fingers along your cheek. "Perfect."

Your eyes were wide and bright as you tugged down all of the white fabric just a few inches, and Bradley's cock sprang free, tapping your lips and leaving a streak of his precum on your cupid's bow. You wrapped one hand gently around his length, and with one swipe of your tongue, Bradley's eyes were already rolling back. 

"Oh, fuck," he grunted, taking a deep breath before he looked at you again. He was throbbing in your hand as you kissed his tip and along his length with a lazy little grin on your lips. You weren't in any sort of hurry as you moved in time with the thumping party music still going strong in the distance. Your tongue swirled along his balls before you took one between your lips and sucked gently. "Princess."

"Hmm," you hummed, looking up at him. Your eyelashes brushed your cheeks every time your eyes drifted slowly closed, but whenever they were open, they were focused on his face. You were his gorgeous Princess, and you were always taking care of him. Your tongue was like velvet as his cock rested on your cheek, throbbing in response to your welcome attention. When you released his balls to lick back along his length to his tip, you sighed. "I love you, Daddy."

You sucked on his head, lips pursed in a pretty pout, and when you finally took more of his cock between your lips, Bradley readjusted his stance and placed one big palm at the back of your head. "Nice and slow. Yeah. Just like that." It was heavenly the way you took him deep until you gagged before bobbing on his length. Then you did it again, eyes watering as you made that pretty sound at the back of your throat. "You're so fucking good at this."

You moaned and whined louder, and Bradley looked around to be sure the two of you were still alone as you gagged all over his cock. He tried to guide you slower, but you popped him free and grinned up at him as you pumped your fist along his length. "Do you like this? In the greenhouse?" you asked, gingerly kissing his tip again. 

He growled and pushed your head as you squealed with delight until he was tapping the back of your throat again. He could only grunt. "Yeah. I like this. You spoil me." 

Now your fingers were rubbing and teasing his balls, and Bradley was trying to be gentle with his palm at the back of your head, but you had him close to the edge. He groaned your name, stroking his thumb along the shell of your ear and down to your jaw as you worked him into a babbling mess. You kept your eyes fixed on his as he fucked your face while you bobbed and sucked. The wet sounds and soft moans were obscene, and so were Bradley's words.

"God, Baby. You're a fucking dream. You let me cum everywhere, in every hole. You gonna swallow me down?"

"Mmhmm," you hummed, somehow never releasing the perfect suction you had around him. Your saliva was dripping onto your chest and down to your beaded top, coating your cleavage. Your brow was pinched. Your hands were tight around the base of his cock and his hip. You were ready for him. 

"Good girl," he praised as he came with his cock at the back of your throat. You sputtered and gagged, but you swallowed him down. Your lips parted with him resting on your tongue, and he watched you swallow with little gulps as you tried to catch your breath. 

Your eyes were watery as you licked his tip clean, never pulling him away from your mouth. Each soft swipe of your tongue was accompanied by a quiet whimper of your pleasure, and finally Bradley had to pull away before he got hard again. You kissed along the front of his pants again and let your cheek rest high on his thigh as he tucked his cock back inside his pants. What a sight you were, on the stone floor in front of him, snuggled against his uniform pants. He coaxed your chin up with his fingers so you were looking at him again, and he committed the sight to memory. 

"I love you, Princess."

Your smile made him soft inside, and when he reached for your hand and pulled you to your feet, you came willingly to his arms. He tasted himself on your lips when you kissed him and straightened out his hat. Your fingernails were raking along the stubble that was starting to grow in along his jaw as you whispered, "I got a little lipstick on your pants."

"Good," he said with a smirk. He literally didn't give a shit if everyone knew you gave him head during the retirement party. "You want to grab one more glass of champagne and start saying goodbye to everyone? It's pretty late, and I want to get back to relieve Amelia."

You nodded and let Bradley lead you slowly along the stone path back toward the main part of the greenhouse. 

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

It was almost midnight when you chewed on one last raspberry while Natasha eyed the front of Bradley's pants and then your lips. "You know, I do think it's amusing the way you get on me about my questionable decisions," she told him with a bland look. "But it's nice to see that mom and dad had a fun night out."

Bradley chuckled as he leaned against the bar sipping a glass of water. He had absolutely no shame right now, and it was making you a little flustered. Sure, you'd been the one to boldly instigate the activity that took place in the rare plants room, but now you were feeling a little more bashful about it as he stood there with his dress whites a bit marked up and his arm around your waist. 

You bit your lip as you looked up at him, and he kissed the tip of your nose. "Don't go and get shy on me now," he whispered, and then you saw the three women from the ladies' room walk past. They were all looking at him, but he didn't spare a glance in their direction as he said, "Ready to go home to Noah and Skittles?"

"Yes," you replied softly, and he finished the rest of his water in two gulps. 

"Let's go."

"Wait," you said as he started to head toward Admiral Bates. "We're not dropping Natasha off?"

He shook his head and said, "Nope. She's going with Javy. Gonna break his heart."

Sure enough, the two of them were sneaking off together as you said goodbye to Admiral Bates and his wife. You watched Bradley stand at attention and salute his commanding officers, and a little flicker of lust rippled through your body. Nobody said anything about his pants, but he was kind of just flaunting it now as you tried to get him outside. 

"Shameless," you murmured once you were out in the cool night air, the salty smell of the ocean all around you.

"I'm with you, and I don't give a fuck who knows about it, Princess. Now let's get home where I can show you a little appreciation."

The drive was quick and quiet as Bradley sang to you. When his favorite song popped up on his playlist, you turned the volume down a little bit so you could hear his steady voice louder over the music, and it gave you goosebumps. He'd sung it for you countless times and always told you it reminded him of you, and tonight was no exception. 

"I always think of you now. All the time."

You ended up on his lap once he parked in the driveway, knocking his hat off so you could run your fingers through his hair as you whispered, "I love you." He carried you carefully up to the porch, your poofy skirt becoming a bit of a tripping hazard that made both of you laugh. And you were still in his arms when he tried the doorknob to find it was locked.

"Okay," he told you with a pleased nod. "She's got the house sealed up just like you always did. I like that."

"So Amelia Benjamin is for sure our new permanent babysitter?"

Bradley slid his key into the lock and said, "As long as Noah had fun, I think so." He turned the knob and opened the door as he called out, "It's just us!" 

Amelia was rolling the ball across the floor for Skittles while she read a book, and she looked up and asked, "Did you have fun?" 

You quickly stepped in front of Bradley, hiding his pants from view as you said, "So much fun."

"Yeah, it was pretty good," Bradley added as he patted your butt and turned to head for the stash of cash behind the TV so he could pay her. "How was Noah?"

"Great! We had fun with the puppy, and he went right to bed."

"Perfect," Bradley said as he counted out some bills, and now you had to play hide the pants as Bradley casually handed her payment to her. 

"Thanks. Are my mom and Mav still there, or did they head back already?" she asked.

You were holding some of the layers of your skirt out to the side in front of your boyfriend like a weirdo as you answered her. "They must have left, because we didn't see them when we were heading out."

Amelia knelt down to pat Skittles on the head before the dog carried her ball over to Bradley's feet with a little limp in her step. "Sounds good. Call me if you need me to watch Noah again," she said, waving as she headed out. "Goodnight." 

"Thank you," Bradley called after her as he picked Skittles up and let her lick his face.

"You need to go take your pants off. I'm dropping them at the dry cleaner first thing on Monday."

Bradley laughed as he said, "I thought you were very proud of yourself."

"I was... until a literal teenager was about to see it!" you told him as you unbuttoned and unzipped his pants before glaring up at him. "Just take them off while I check on Noah."

You walked away with your skirt billowing behind you, and you quietly slipped into his bedroom. He was sound asleep, his breathing soft and even as you let your hand rest on his shoulder. "Hi, sweet Noah," you whispered. You felt like you'd barely seen him all day with the amount of time you'd been out and the hours you had taken to get ready with Natasha. Your fingers grazed his warm cheek before you pushed his hair back from his forehead and gave him a kiss. "I love you." 

When you turned toward the door, Bradley was standing there with his pants unzipped and Skittles in one big hand. "It's time for me to show you a little oral appreciation, Baby," he whispered as he took your hand. 

As soon as he had you on your back in the middle of your bed with your skirt pushed way up, he found out you weren't wearing any underwear. Your pussy was wet, and you were ready for him, but when he nipped your lips as he teased you with his fingers, you broke the kiss. "Can we have a fun family day tomorrow? Us and Noah?" you gasped, your fingers clutching at the insignia pins on his jacket.

Bradley's smirk turned into a smile before he kissed you so gently, you whimpered. He kissed back to your ear as he slid one long finger into your pussy and circled your clit with his thumb. "Absolutely. I love you. Oh, I fucking adore you, Princess."

He worked you over good after that. Your fingers were in your own mouth as Bradley propped you up with his hand for better access. He was making you get a little too loud as his soft tongue and bristly mustache met your clit while he finger fucked you. And then the broad stripes of his tongue that ended in little swirls around your clit let you know exactly what he was planning to do.

"Daddy!" you gasped, hips jerking as you clenched around his thick fingers. He knew he had you. He knew just the right amount of pressure to apply. You squirted for him. You were wet everywhere; it felt like you were laying in a little puddle. 

"Oh, fuck me," he moaned, and then he was on top of you, shoving his cock inside your dripping pussy and making your back arch off the bed. His face was wet with you as he kissed you and let you lick his mouth clean. You felt good if not overstimulated and a little boneless, but with just a few deep thrusts, he came inside you.

His body weight was heavy but soothing as he eased himself down on top of you. "Well," he whispered, "looks like you'll need to take your dress to the dry cleaner along with my uniform." 

You smirked. "I'll put it on my Princess credit card."

"You're damn right."

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

If Saturday night at the retirement party was fun, then the impromptu family day on Sunday was spectacular. Bradley hadn't done anything quite like this, well... ever.

"Mommy!" Noah called out, handing you a purple golf ball at the little putt putt course next to the beach. Then Noah selected a yellow ball for himself and handed Bradley bright green.

"Perfect, Bub," he said, kissing his son while you took him by the hand. Bradley's attention just fluctuated between how pretty you were in your little sundress and how happy Noah looked. He was so preoccupied, you had to keep reminding him it was his turn.

"You're up, Daddy," you said, nudging his foot with your putter. "Why are you so distracted?"

He shook his head and nudged your putter right back before he kissed your cheek. "Just having a good day," he replied. "Thinking about how nice this is."

"We can have family Sundays whenever we're not too busy. Oh, and there's a dog friendly beach trail, so next time we can bring Skittles."

"She's getting her cast off soon," Bradley reminded you.

"Then she can sleep in my bed!" Noah said, hitting his yellow ball very badly. "You promised!"

"Yeah. You promised," you echoed. Bradley was met with Noah's look of excitement and your smug smile. Then you added, "You're just the best, Daddy."

He groaned and bent to scoop Noah up as he giggled uncontrollably. "Let's tickle Mommy," Bradley whispered loudly. He chased you around while Noah stretched his arms out and wiggled his fingers at you. When you pretended to get caught, you smothered first Noah and then Bradley in kisses. Then the three of you eventually returned to the golf game, and Bradley silently congratulated himself for successfully distracting the two of you. 

Because honestly, he was already kind of attached to having Skittles sleep in her little bed in the room with you and him. He didn't want to say it out loud though, especially since he was the one who didn't want a dog in the first place. But he liked having her trot over to him when he got out of bed in the morning, and he liked settling her into her spot at night. And he knew Skittles preferred to be taken outside by him.

"I can't believe I have an eight pound dog named Skittles," he murmured. "How is this my life now?"

Not that he was complaining. He looked at you helping Noah line up his shot at the last hole, and then you and he managed to get a hole in one together before both turning to look at him in surprise. "Did you see that?" you asked.

"Yeah, I saw it," he replied with a smile. "It was incredible. Now let's go celebrate by not asking you to cook tonight."

Dinner consisted of nothing but takeout sandwiches and a picnic table, but it was the perfect end to the day. Bradley was just mesmerized by you as you cleaned Noah's hands with a wet wipe and then cut his sandwich up into little bite sized pieces for him. Then you kissed him on the temple and asked if he would like to have Amelia come babysit him again.

"Remember when you were my babysitter?" he asked you, his eyes wide as you smiled down at him.

"Yeah. I remember, sweet Noah."

He bit into a piece of his sandwich before he said, "I liked that a whole lot, but I like it better now that you're my mommy instead."

"I like it better now, too," Bradley added, and he watched your smile grow.

"Yeah," Noah said, "because you're always at our house now, and you never have to leave."

"That's right. You belong with us, Princess." Bradley thought maybe you always had, and he and Noah were just waiting for it all to fall into place.

You looked pleased as you told them, "I'm not going anywhere."

When Bradley finally pulled the Bronco in the driveway, it was dark out, and both you and Noah were yawning nonstop. "Do I need to carry both of you inside?" he asked.

"Yes," you and Noah answered in unison. 

He picked you up for a piggy back ride before getting Noah out of the backseat, and then he carried both of you up to the porch and unlocked the door. You took Noah with you to get him ready for bed while Bradley led Skittles out the back door. 

"Yeah, I know I'm your favorite," he whispered as Skittles licked his hand before hobbling out to the grass. He'd follow up with the shelter about having her cast removed, and he get her some special treats for a reward as she built her strength up again. 

A few minutes later, he carried the pup down the hallway past Noah's room where his son was already sound asleep. When he walked into his own bedroom, you were already snuggled up in bed with the covers pulled up to your chin. "You sleepy, Baby?"

"Mmhmm," you hummed before yawning again. "All the champagne and mini golfing caught up with me, I guess. Not to mention the blowjobs."

Bradley chuckled as he set Skittles down in her bed with a little pat on her purple bow. Then he joined you after kicking his shoes off. He snuggled up next to you on top of the blankets, still needing to get ready for bed. But he kissed you and watched as your eyelids grew heavier. "Can't forget about the blowjobs," he whispered, and you smiled. "I love you, Princess."

"Love you." Then you were asleep. 

When he got to work tomorrow morning, Bradley would talk to Admiral Simpson about flying in the air show even though he really didn't want to have to chat with him about anything. Not after Cyclone's continual desire to flirt with the one woman who was Bradley's. But he'd do it anyway, because he wanted to make you happy. Then he pulled his phone out of his pocket, and after he verified you were really asleep, he opened his internet browser to check those tabs again.

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

Silence, peasants....she is a Princess. Can't wait for Bradley's conversation with Cyclone at work. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 44

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[sykestarot]

what attracts people to you?

1-2-3 (left to right)

I do not own any of these images

Hi guys I'm back for this weeks reading! Thanks so much for all the love on the other post it really means a lot! I hope these messages resonate as well. Thanks for stopping by yet again! :)

Pile 1

"Just wondering when you said I'm beautiful, was I being lied to?"

(2 of swords (rx); ace of cups; 5 of swords; 4 of swords (rx); queen of pentacles; 2 of cups (rx)) I’m feeling for you pile one that you don’t believe that you’re attractive at all, energetically or physically. Like people would always prefer someone else other than you. Quite literally how the song title is opposite, you believe people are only attracted to the types of people who are opposite of you. Which is so obviously not true because so many people are attracted to you. I don’t know if you think more people value stability over spontaneity. But your cards imply that you are a free spirit and people love that about you. Not only are you a free spirit but you also are hard working. You aren’t one of those people that says they're a free spirit as an excuse to do nothing. I’m feeling that you carry this abundant energy of like “I want it, I got it”. And people just want to stay in that energy. You also have a resilience that people see and it makes them admire you but also want to learn from you. Your energy is truly so beautiful. I see that you might have long hair with beautiful waves to it. Perhaps you’re tan or have a darker complexion. You’re the type of person who loves doing hikes and smelling the fresh air outside. I also see beaches and a boho style to you. Lots of whites and vibrant blues as well. Perhaps you’re Greek or some type of southern European. I see that you also have doe eyes and people find them to be mesmerizing. As well as your smile. I don't know why you don’t think you’re attractive because the vibes I'm getting are that you’re a stunner!! I hope one day you can learn to appreciate the qualities in yourself that others see!  Signs : Athens, Greece, kitties, pasta, the smell of pine orange and vanilla, woven hats, big sunglasses, kites, hang gliders?, laughs, melted ice cream, strawberry scents, lip gloss, glitter, flamingos, Sagittarius

Pile 2

"She's got a halo around her finger around you" (The world; 5 of swords (rx); the high priestess; knight of pentacles (rx); 9 of wands (rx); the hierophant) Pile two you are my pile that knows people are attracted to you and use it to your advantage. Which is so real of you but also so slay. And this is not to say that you use your beauty to gain things in a negative way. It’s more like you know the cards that you were dealt and you’d be damned if you didn't use them. I feel like this is my Scorpio pile. Something about you is mysterious and that entices people to want to get to know you better. I feel like you are like a real life siren. The way you speak or the tone of your voice ensares people and draws them right to you. You also have a fated energy or destiny really plays a role in your life. To the point where people want to be in your life because they think they might be able to get some of whatever you have. You might also be witchy and cast spells or work with guides to make things go your way in life. You co create with spirit for sure. I feel like you guys have a contrasting appearance, like pale skin dark hair, or darker skin and lighter hair. I feel like your eyes are piercing like they are hunting prey and people love feeling like they are hunted by you. I see you being very chiseled whether that’s in the body or the face. You have a striking appearance for sure. The kind that people do double takes on the street. You might get a lot of losers who want to talk to you because your energy and appearance are so intoxicating. I also feel like you’re overall just very bold. Perhaps Aries as well? I also feel like anything said in this reading you already know about yourself lol. Signs : Osprey; Seahawks (football); Megan Fox; vampires; red lisp; metal; silver; motorcycles; the twilight saga?; Jennifer’s Body; clubbing; latex; Washington State; black hair; blue eyes

Pile 3

"I know she's gonna break my heart"

(8 of cups; 7 of wands (rx); page of pentacles; the moon; the hanged man (rx); the lovers) You, my pile three, are the heartbreaker, soul stealer, sad girl pile. People are attracted to you because people want to fix you, not necessarily that you need to be fixed to be honest. It’s more in the sense that you don’t care about them more than you care about yourself. It’s like they want to teach how to love or be the one that changes you. Which to me is so funny because it’s not that you don’t know how to love it’s that you don’t love them lmfao. You don’t entertain many suitors or people in general and so when you do give people your energy it’s special. However with how selective you are it makes people want to know more about your inner world. But you come off so nonchalant that people want to get a reaction out of you. You have the potential to feed people’s hero/savior complex if you actually like them back. I also feel like your sense of style is alternative or goth and that’s also what brings people to you. I’m getting retired emo’s or lil peep/suicide boy fans. Perhaps your taste in music also attracts people. I feel like you’re social media and the way you present yourself really gets people wanting to know you more. You’re very mysterious but I'm getting in more of an Aquarius or Pisces way. I feel like you like having dramatic makeup on or you have a very out there style. I keep seeing, like cyber goth or emo. I’m not super well versed in those genres of style so I hope you get it lol. Maybe you have lip rings or eyebrow piercings. Anyways you’re very unique and that’s what attracts people to you. I also feel like you’re always doing cool and new stuff and people are attracted to you because you’re a trendsetter in a lot of ways. Maybe you have a following on a social media platform? Idk I feel like people watch you via the internet. Signs: anime; jjk; tik tok; silver metals; lip biting; rilakuma; pastel pinks; black; stripes; oversized sweaters; skirts and thigh highs; leg warmers; big chunky shoes; platform boots; johnny guilbert?; music holds importance here

[forestdeath1]

Canon Sirius through quotes

Part 3. Harshness and toughness (and how Sirius Black differs from James Potter). It's long. Really long.

Sirius isn't a soft crybaby. His harshness (and even cruelty) goes beyond the silly teenage pranks we usually see in fanfiction. Sirius is often either whitewashed by newer fans or overly demonized by anti-Marauders fans. Sirius has a tough exterior but a heart of gold. He's not childish and had to grow up early, though he can still be quite fun.

‘Do you know, I still have trouble believing it,’ said Madam Rosmerta thoughtfully. ‘Of all the people to go over to the Dark side, Sirius Black was the last I’d have thought ... .’

"Of all the people to go over to the Dark side, Sirius Black was the last I’d have thought" – this shouldn't be taken literally. Rosmerta saw many others regularly, Dumbledore, Lily, Remus, and many others, and out of all of them, Sirius Black was the last who could turn to the Dark side? Seriously? Did Sirius walk around with a halo and angel wings?

One trait that is always emphasized in his appearance is his haughty, bored look.

Rosmerta speaks metaphorically, not literally. She saw Sirius once a month or two when they went out to Hogsmeade to have fun and drink. In those moments, Sirius was lively, funny and noisy (especially lively after running away from home), and perhaps he even flirted with Rosmerta in a childish manner, melting the heart of the adult woman.

Sirius can be funny, although his humor is always edging towards dark:

"Imagine wasting your time and energy persecuting merpeople when there are little toerags like Kreacher on the loose.’ 

Ron laughed but Hermione looked upset. 

‘Sirius!’ she said reproachfully. ‘Honestly, if you made a bit of an effort with Kreacher, I’m sure he’d respond. After all, you are the only member of his family he’s got left, and Professor Dumbledore said –’ 

‘So, what are Umbridge’s lessons like?’ Sirius interrupted. ‘Is she training you all to kill half-breeds?’

Moreover, he interrupts Hermione, not letting her finish her point. He sharply outlines if he doesn't want to listen.

"the stuffed elf-heads on the hall wall wore Father Christmas hats and beards"

Dark humor.

‘Kreacher is cleaning,’ the elf repeated. ‘Kreacher lives to serve the Noble House of Black –’ 

‘And it’s getting blacker every day, it’s filthy,’ said Sirius.

Here he responds with a clear "Black" shade. His mother also loved to talk about filth.

‘Sirius – it’s me ... it’s Peter ... your friend ... you wouldn’t ...’ Black kicked out and Pettigrew recoiled. ‘There’s enough filth on my robes without you touching them,’ said Black.

And again. And here’s his mother:

‘Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers –’ 

‘Stains of dishonour, filthy half-breeds, blood traitors, children of filth ...’

Sirius desperately wants to be unlike the Blacks, but he is still Sirius Black.

‘I thought it was the perfect plan ... a bluff ... Voldemort would be sure to come after me, would never dream they’d use a weak, talentless thing like you ... it must have been the finest moment of your miserable life, telling Voldemort you could hand him the Potters.’

Sirius's humor isn't the only harsh thing about him. Even though here he has a reason – after Azkaban he met James's traitor – his way of speaking reflects his overall personality. The way one speaks is a mirror of personality, even if Sirius has PTSD, it only exposes even more vividly what he might control in a calm state.

‘Nasty temper he’s got, that Sirius Black.’ (Peeves)

At the same time, yes, he can be cheerful and infect everyone around him with his cheerfulness. If he's in a sombre mood, he creates a quite oppressive atmosphere around him that everyone feels. Just as with a good mood – everyone feels it.

Harry could not remember Sirius ever being in such a good mood; he was actually singing carols, apparently delighted that he was to have company over Christmas. 

-

Sirius tramping past their door towards Buckbeak’s room, singing ‘God Rest Ye, Merry Hippogriffs’ at the top of his voice. 

-

Sirius’s delight at having the house full again, and especially at having Harry back, was infectious. He was no longer their sullen host of the summer; now he seemed determined that everyone should enjoy themselves as much, if not more than they would have done at Hogwarts, and he worked tirelessly in the run-up to Christmas Day, cleaning and decorating with their help.

But the ability to be cheerful is in no way connected to being very harshn at the same time. This is precisely the case with Sirius.

Of all the Marauders, only Sirius is really harsh and can be truly dangerous (the author wrote about him, “The best-looking, most rebellious, most dangerous of the four marauders”). James was also a bully, but he's not harsh, despite the fact that it was he who pulled down Snape's trousers. Why? I think Sirius was already aware of what they were doing. James – not. Without awareness, it's too early to speak of any harshness and cruelty. Sirius had this awareness and still continued to do it.

Let's consider the reactions of Sirius and James in comparison.

‘Who wants to be in Slytherin? I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?’ 

Sirius did not smile. ‘My whole family have been in Slytherin,’ he said.

‘Blimey,’ said James, ‘and I thought you seemed all right!’ 

Sirius grinned. ‘Maybe I’ll break the tradition. Where are you heading, if you’ve got the choice?’

A small note: Sirius didn't even react to James's "I'd leave", even though he knew his whole family was from Slytherin, and he was likely to go there too.

James lifted an invisible sword. ‘“Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!” Like my dad.’ Snape made a small, disparaging noise. James turned on him.

‘Got a problem with that?’ ‘No,’ said Snape, though his slight sneer said otherwise. ‘If you’d rather be brawny than brainy –’

It was Snape who starts the confrontation on a personal level. James in his insults in this memory refers to moral qualities. "Who wants to be in Slytherin?" Only bad people. He is prejudiced against Slytherin because Slytherin is evil. Voldemort is gaining momentum. The first Muggle-born Minister was recently ousted. Attacks are happening here and there. Dark forces are growing. More and more of the pure-blood society talks about "Mudbloods" not belonging in this world. And "amazingly", they all turn out to be from Slytherin. James sees himself as a noble knight "James lifted an invisible sword", and he is against Slytherin not so much personally as against the moral component of Slytherin.

‘Where’re you hoping to go, seeing as you’re neither?’ interjected Sirius.

James roared with laughter. Lily sat up, rather flushed, and looked from James to Sirius in dislike.

Sirius immediately strikes at Snape's personality. Sirius is sharp-tongued, self-assured, and likely accustomed to considering others below himself. He probably assessed James as his equal right away. Brave, cheerful, sincere.

'Come on, Severus, let's find another compartment.'

'Oooooo...'

James and Sirius imitated her lofty voice; James tried to trip Snape as he passed.

'See ya, Snivellus!' a voice called, as the compartment door slammed...

James tried to trip Snape. James most often uses physical/magical force. He trips Snape, he pulls down Snape's trousers, he uses most of the spells on Snape in SWM. But it's Sirius who goes after Snape's personality. It looks like James has concocted a "noble justification" for his behavior and attitude and punishes Snape for existing just as he is.

Sirius, on the other hand, hardly uses magical/physical force in memories; he finds painful points in Snape's personality – from character to appearance, intentionally demeaning his personal traits.

Moreover, it was Sirius who focused on Snape's appearance. No one, except him, places such an emphasis on Snape's unattractive appearance and his untidiness.

'Snape's always been fascinated by the Dark Arts, he was famous for it at school. Slimy, oily, greasy-haired kid, he was,'

Very vivid epithets. Sirius is very eloquent when it comes to demeaning someone he dislikes.

Moreover, it's James who's the attention seeker. It's James who plays with the snitch, drawing attention, glancing at the girls by the lake, and ruffling his hair to show everyone how cool, strong, brave, and awesome he is.

After five minutes of this, Harry wondered why James didn’t tell Wormtail to get a grip on himself, but James seemed to be enjoying the attention. Harry noticed that his father had a habit of rumpling up his hair as though to keep it from getting too tidy, and he also kept looking over at the girls by the water’s edge.

While Sirius, likely, isn't much interested in societal validation. Sirius is more reserved, with firmer boundaries, he's not as interested in public adoration as James might be.

Lupin had pulled out a book and was reading. Sirius stared around at the students milling over the grass, looking rather haughty and bored, but very handsomely so.

This is a typical expression for Sirius – bored and haughty. He spent nearly five full years in Gryffindor alongside James, and the bored and haughty expression is still with him. It's not just a random trait in his character – it's one of the pillars of his personality, reflecting his attitude towards random people around him.

‘Put that away, will you,’ said Sirius finally, as James made a fine catch and Wormtail let out a cheer, ‘before Wormtail wets himself with excitement.’

As I've said, Sirius cuts with his words without a knife. They've been studying together for five years, been friends with Peter, and he jokes about Peter like this. I think they all joked about each other in the same way, just James's "jokes" are blunt and probably he just says whatever comes to mind, whereas Sirius's are more subtle and hurtful.

Moreover, when people say this is the only episode we know of bullying by James and Sirius and that it's the worst in their history, that's not correct. This episode is the worst in Snape's life. And not because they pulled down his trousers. But because he lost Lily forever that day. This episode, likely, was quite typical for the Marauders. They were in a good mood, had finished exams, Snape just happened to pass by, there were no obvious reasons for this bullying. Harry sifted through their detention records, and there were many, very many, and how many more when they weren't caught?

Sirius got bored, and there they decided to "have some fun."

‘I’m bored,’ said Sirius. ‘Wish it was full moon.’ 

‘You might,’ said Lupin darkly from behind his book. ‘We’ve still got Transfiguration, if you’re bored you could test me. Here ...’ and he held out his book. 

But Sirius snorted. ‘I don’t need to look at that rubbish, I know it all.’

I won't discuss The Prank here, many have written about it. In general, Sirius doesn't show empathy in everyday interactions even with Remus. Sirius has a heart of gold, but his shell, especially as a teenager – tough, harsh, sharp, and cutting. The grown-up Sirius interacts with close people much more politely, though he still occasionally shows his harshness (for example, with Hermione).

‘This’ll liven you up, Padfoot,’ said James quietly. ‘Look who it is ...’ 

Sirius’s head turned. He became very still, like a dog that has scented a rabbit. 

‘Excellent,’ he said softly. ‘Snivellus.’

I don't want to justify Sirius and James, but for context – Snape is fascinated by the Dark Arts, hangs out with future Death Eaters (= fascist), and they have mutual dislike from the first year. No, the act is immature, but James justifies it in his head exactly like this – Snape is bad for him, so anything goes, and anyway, "so what?" Sirius doesn't need justifications. He's just bored.

Even when James uses all the spells on Snape, he still glances at the lake:

Snape lay panting on the ground. James and Sirius advanced on him, wands raised, James glancing over his shoulder at the girls at the water’s edge as he went. Wormtail was on his feet now, watching hungrily, edging around Lupin to get a clearer view.

Why look at the girls by the lake when you're humiliating someone, if you know you're doing something really bad? James genuinely sees himself as a noble knight, deserving of admiration. Moreover, many do admire him (''Students all around had turned to watch. Some of them had got to their feet and were edging nearer. Some looked apprehensive, others entertained. Several people watching laughed''), and Lupin mentioned several times that James was popular at school.

‘How’d the exam go, Snivelly?’ said James. 

‘I was watching him, his nose was touching the parchment,’ said Sirius viciously. ‘There’ll be great grease marks all over it, they won’t be able to read a word.’ 

Again, Sirius harshly targets Snape's personal traits, including his appearance.

‘You – wait,’ he panted, staring up at James with an expression of purest loathing, ‘you – wait!’ 

‘Wait for what?’ said Sirius coolly. ‘What’re you going to do, Snivelly, wipe your nose on us?’ 

And again – Sirius strikes with words.

Snape let out a stream of mixed swear words and hexes, but with his wand ten feet away nothing happened.

‘Wash out your mouth,’ said James coldly. ‘Scourgify!’

And James responds with a spell to what? Snape's insults. He says ‘Wash out your mouth.’ He appeals to the moral side of the issue.

‘I don’t need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!’

‘Apologise to Evans!’ James roared at Snape, his wand pointed  threateningly at him. ‘I don’t want you to make him apologise,’ Lily shouted, rounding on James. ‘You’re as bad as he is.’ ‘What?’ yelped James. ‘I’d NEVER call you a – you-know-what!’

This also proves that James is sure he's doing everything right. James is like a volunteer in the allies' army against the fascists, a brave Gryffindor, and his sword is to cast spells on anyone he deems not fitting his moral standards.

‘Messing up your hair because you think it looks cool to look like you’ve just got off your broomstick, showing off with that stupid Snitch, walking down corridors and hexing anyone who annoys you just because you can – I’m surprised your broomstick can get off the ground with that fat head on it. You make me SICK.’

And from the outside, it looked like this.

‘What is it with her?’ said James, trying and failing to look as though this was a throwaway question of no real importance to him. 

‘Reading between the lines, I’d say she thinks you’re a bit conceited, mate,’ said Sirius.

And Sirius understands it all too well. Who he is, who James is, and what Lily thinks about it all. Sirius knows about James's crush on Lily and finds it even funny that she rejects him. Likely because Sirius understands that they often cross the line. I don’t think Sirius could have stopped Potter. I don't even think Sirius wanted to stop Potter. He found it all funny. Azkaban, on the other hand, softened Sirius in his interactions with others. It knocked down his pride and arrogance. Showed him that life can be unfair and you don't need to act like a haughty jerk who thinks the world revolves around them.

At school, Sirius was more about psychological bullying, while James was about the physical. Given that James and Sirius were very popular at school and within their house, their bullying was likely directed mostly at Slytherins or at arrogant jerks like themselves who they just "didn't like."

And the adult Sirius understands that they were “arrogant little berks.” And he’s “not proud of it,” but his next words speak for themselves:

“ I think James was everything Snape wanted to be – he was popular, he was good at Quidditch – good at pretty much everything. And Snape was just this little oddball who was up to his eyes in the Dark Arts, and James – whatever else he may have appeared to you, Harry – always hated the Dark Arts.”

Sirius justifies James while simultaneously praising him. Justifications always imply a partial denial of guilt. Someone fully aware of their guilt doesn’t seek to justify or be justified. Of course, Sirius said this for Harry's sake too. To ensure Harry didn’t think his father was just a bully for no reason. His father was actually “on the side of good,” is what Sirius wants to convey. About himself, he remains silent. But he doesn't miss the chance to insult Snape again “little oddball.”

Even Remus, as an adult, sincerely justifies James.

‘She started going out with him in seventh year,’ said Lupin. 

‘Once James had deflated his head a bit,’ said Sirius. ‘And stopped hexing people just for the fun of it,’ said Lupin.

 ‘Even Snape?’ said Harry. ‘Well,’ said Lupin slowly, ‘Snape was a special case. I mean, he never lost an opportunity to curse James so you couldn’t really expect James to take that lying down, could you?’ 

‘And my mum was OK with that?’ 

‘She didn’t know too much about it, to tell you the truth,’ said Sirius. ‘I mean, James didn’t take Snape on dates with her and jinx him in front of her, did he?’

Lupin finds a genuine justification for James. The concept of “violence in any form is bad” isn’t fully grasped by them. They follow an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Lupin even was ready to kill Peter, and he insisted that war is not a playground and that killing is sometimes necessary in war. Remus, though gentler and kinder, and preferring not to engage in conflict, genuinely wished Sirius and James hadn't bullied anyone at school, but yet, he still reconciles with all they do and even justifies James.

In Sirius's mind, James may have acted like a fool, but Sirius doesn’t genuinely condemn it. He just thinks they were too arrogant. And Sirius’s behavior after Azkaban (how he became gentler with others) indicates he truly realized – you don't need to belittle everyone you dislike or even like. Yet, Sirius’s harshness, even after Azkaban, didn’t disappear; it was just redirected towards what he genuinely hates.

‘Professor Snape was at school with us. He fought very hard against my appointment to the Defence Against the Dark Arts job. He has been telling Dumbledore all year that I am not to be trusted. He has his reasons ... you see, Sirius here played a trick on him which nearly killed him, a trick which involved me –’ 

Black made a derisive noise. 

‘It served him right,’ he sneered. ‘Sneaking around, trying to find out what we were up to ... hoping he could get us expelled ...’

Remus's reactions are much softer, but Sirius’s reaction, even years later, is harsh and even a bit cruel. ‘It served him right.’ Because it's an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.

However, Sirius’s harshness still occasionally breaks through even towards his close ones when he slightly loses control over himself after Azkaban.

‘You’re less like your father than I thought,’ he said finally, a definite coolness in his voice. ‘The risk would’ve been what made it fun for James.’ 

‘Well, I’d better get going, I can hear Kreacher coming down the stairs,’ said Sirius, but Harry was sure he was lying. ‘I’ll write to tell you a time I can make it back into the fire, then, shall I? If you can stand to risk it?’

Sirius calls themselves “arrogant little berks,” but the peculiarity of Sirius’s arrogance is that it's due to his personal qualities, not external “glamour”.

 ‘I, a spy for Voldemort? When did I ever sneak around people who were stronger and more powerful than myself? But you, Peter – I’ll never understand why I didn’t see you were the spy from the start. You always liked big friends who’d look after you, didn’t you?’

He despises Peter for groveling, for weakness, for the same reasons he despises Regulus, considering him a soft idiot. Sirius’s arrogance was never built on finances or blood purity, on popularity, on playing Quidditch, not on his name, although the family dynamics undoubtedly influenced his pride. But overall, his arrogance is of a different level – that of a rebellious spirit, a very strong person, not like the Malfoys. Lucius Malfoy is intentionally depicted as the complete opposite of Sirius Black (in character – the most rebellious of their pure-blood circle and the most sycophantic, and in appearance – black and white).

Sirius and Kreacher's story demonstrates that Sirius does not forgive those he hated and can carry hatred through the years. People usually soften over time, but Sirius has an excuse – Azkaban. Nonetheless, the behavioral pattern remains unchanged. Azkaban does not change the essence of people, it makes certain traits more vivid and pronounced. Sirius became calmer towards the people around him who help fight against evil, he toned down his arrogance and pride (even towards Snape, he no longer hurls insults first, it’s Snape who insults Sirius first), but Sirius became even harsher towards those he hates.

‘Sirius was horrible to Kreacher, Harry, and it’s no good looking like that, you know it’s true. I’ve said all along that wizards would pay for how they treat house-elves. Well, Voldemort did ... and so did Sirius.’

Harry had no retort. As he watched Kreacher sobbing on the floor, he remembered what Dumbledore had said to him, mere hours after Sirius’s death: I do not think Sirius ever saw Kreacher as a being with feelings as acute as a human’s ...

And he himself demonstrates this repeatedly:

At which Sirius, ignoring Hermione’s protests, seized Kreacher by the back of his loincloth and threw him bodily from the room.

Dumbledore believes Sirius showed cruelty to Kreacher through his indifference and neglect. That is, Sirius could shut off his empathy towards a being, despite generally being friendly towards house-elves.

‘He (Sirius) regarded him (Kreacher) as a servant unworthy of much interest or notice. Indifference and neglect often do much more damage than outright dislike… Sirius was not a cruel man, he was kind to house-elves in general. He had no love for Kreacher, because Kreacher was a living reminder of the home Sirius had hated.’

Sirius was not evil. But the neglect emanating from him was very cruel, harsh, and cold. Sirius can shut away all the good within him towards anyone he despised – “And whatever Kreacher’s faults, it must be admitted that Sirius did nothing to make Kreacher’s lot easier –”

‘– comes back from Azkaban ordering Kreacher around, oh, my poor mistress, what would she say if she saw the house now, scum living in it, her treasures thrown out, she swore he was no son of hers and he’s back, they say he’s a murderer too –’

‘Keep muttering and I will be a murderer!’ said Sirius irritably as he slammed the door shut on the elf.

However, Sirius likely never killed anyone, even while serving in the "Order."

Regarding his family and even Regulus, Sirius is also harsh. Even if he, like any child, deep down loved his family, it doesn’t matter because his real words and actions are very harsh and aimed at severing ties. The possible love for them deep down only further highlights his harshness and readiness for confrontation.

“I hated the whole lot of them: my parents, with their pure-blood mania, convinced that to be a Black made you practically royal ... my idiot brother, soft enough to believe them”

Likely, he’s ashamed of them, and his hatred also builds a wall between them and himself.

‘Does it matter if she’s my cousin?’ snapped Sirius. ‘As far as I’m concerned, they’re not my family. She’s certainly not my family. I haven’t seen her since I was your age, unless you count a glimpse of her coming into Azkaban. D’you think I’m proud of having a relative like her?’

And at the same time Dumbledore about James:

‘I knew your father very well, both at Hogwarts and later, Harry,’ he said gently. ‘He would have saved Pettigrew too, I am sure of it.’

I don’t know how true this is (though likely, the author speaks through Dumbledore here), but considering that Harry himself is a character whose main traits include the ability to understand and forgive others, perhaps James had this to some extent too. But Sirius lacks the ability to forgive, and this is deliberately shown in the book – that he suffered precisely because of his excessive harshness.

In conclusion, Sirius's harshness and toughness is not just teenage arrogance; it's directly a trait of his personality, something that cannot be overlooked when talking about the canonical Sirius, not his sugar-coated substitute in fandom. Sirius had to grow up very early, and all this left its mark on him.

Of all the Marauders, only Sirius is really harsh and can be truly dangerous.

But Sirius was not cruel in a moral-ethical sense, or more precisely – ideologically. There's no reason to believe Sirius is constantly drawn to the dark side or that he's amoral. His constant fight against his family suggests instead that he formed high ideals within himself. No, Sirius is not amoral; he has difficulty with empathy (especially in childhood), a tendency towards aggression and cruelty (mostly in childhood, he controls himself quite well as an adult. Well, for Sirius Black quite well), arrogance, but he very well understands what is right and what is wrong.

‘She’s got the measure of Crouch better than you have, Ron. If you want to know what a man’s like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals.’

[pretending-ican-write]

Cowboy Up - Pt.1 - Ryan x Dutton!reader

Um so I watched all of Yellowstone last week and as a result, my multi-year writer's block was broken by a need to see more of Ryan because I am obsessed with Ian Bohen. Idk how many parts this will have or how often it will get updated as I'm in the last few months of uni but I hope y'all enjoy!

Pairing: Ryan (Yellowstone) x Dutton!Reader (Kayce's twin sister)

WC: 1053

Next part

Disclaimer: Beyond watching Yellowstone I have zero/little knowledge of Western riding and the ranching lifestyle but I do know horses so that has certainly influenced this! I'm also English so writing dialogue correctly for them is not my strong point! If you find any issues please let me know!

---

The sun was just beginning to dip below the mountains and the cold was starting to set in when she joined him on the fence.  Neither of them spoke for a while, just looking out at the vastness in front of them, all that was theirs but came with so many conditions.  

Eventually she broke the silence, “so you told him?  How’d he take that one?”

Wordlessly he opened his shirt where the ‘Y’ was just starting to scab over, still red and angry.

“Motherfucker,” she swore, “this ain’t fair Kayce.  He doesn’t just get to do this.”

He shook his head, “dad does whatever he wants and there ain’t no consequences for him.  That’s why I gotta do this.”

“Shit man.  What’s Monica gonna do?  Besides worrying about you getting your ass shot in the desert miles from civilisation?”

Kayce chuckled, “beats getting my ass shot in the middle of Montana miles from civilisation.  She’ll be okay, her family will help and she’ll be a teacher.  Just like she planned.  It’s you I’m worried about here with dad and no one else to speak sense to.  ‘Cept Lee”

“Well I’m leaving, dad be damned.  I’m not gonna be a pawn in his power trip.  Gonna go see this godforsaken country and win it all so that when I come back he can’t question whether it’s where I wanna be,” she declared.

Her brother rolled his eyes, “you ain’t talking about the same him now.”

“I don’t know what your talking about,” she denied, staring out at the darkened mountains.

Kayce shoved her shoulder, “you can’t bullshit to me y/n.  That’s the one problem with being twins, ain’t no way to lie to me.”

“I’m just a kid to him, he ain’t ever gonna see me any other way if I stay here,” she admitted, “hell if I stay here no one will ever see me as anything more than his kid.  ‘S why we both gotta do this Kayce.”

He nodded, “no way to stand in the sun in this state, always gonna be a shadow.”

“When I come back I’ll be able to stand in sunlight so bright I’ll have a fucking halo.”

-/-/-

2 years later…

 Montana has its charms all year round, but fall has a particular appeal.  The leaves had started to turn, there was a chill in the air that only seemed to get  stronger and there was still a frost on the grass that the sun hadn’t hit.  

With the sun keeping the cold from their bones, the Yellowstone ranch hands were occupying themselves keeping their roping skills fresh.  Rip observed from the sidelines as the new hand struggled to keep up with Ryan who turned to lecture the kid about keeping his eye on the steer.  

Lloyd rolled his eyes when he missed the horns again, “you gotta try harder than that if you wanna be a wrangler!”

“He keeps pulling the damn steer too early,” the hand argued back.

Ryan glared at him, “don’t fuckin’ blame me for your bad skills.”

Before they could descend into an all out brawl, the group were distracted by the sound and sight of truck coming down the road.  They watched it pull up in front of the barn, trailer in tow.  A rare silence occupied them as they watched a young woman step out, adjust her hat then stare out across the ranch in front of her.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Lloyd muttered, “she’s back.  You fuckin’ know about this?”

Rip said nothing, but his face gave the answer.  The other hands who recognised her muttered between themselves about what she was doing back after so long.

The new hand leaned over towards Ryan, “who the fuck is that and why does everybody care?”

“That is y/n Dutton,” he answered without taking his eyes off of her.

“I didn’t know John had another daughter,” he responded.

Ryan shook his head, “hell kid you gotta lot to learn about this place.”

“She’s fuckin’ hot mind,” the hand murmered.

The older hand spat out his words, “you keep words like that off your tongue if you want to keep it.”

Lee stepped out of the barn and stepped around the truck to greet her, “the prodigal daughter returns.”

“I don’t see Beth anywhere,” she laughed bitterly, “but it’s good to see you Lee.”

He hugged her, “I’m glad you’re back.  Been a long time coming.”

“I came back for me, not for him remember that,” she turned towards the corral, “think I’ve given them enough of a show to explain it so they can pick their jaws up off the floor?”

He gestured for her to follow him towards where the ranch hands were all still quietly watching.  She strode over to the group, smiling at Rip who nodded back at her.

“Where’s that mare of yours?” He asked.

Y/n shrugged, “a champion barrel horse would be wasted on this ranch.  Sold her for more money than I’m ever gonna earn in the rest of my lifetime.”

“You ain’t rodeoing anymore?” Lloyd questioned.

“I did what I set out to do when I went on the circuit.  Saw this godforsaken country and won it all.  It’d get boring to win it over again,” she moved her gaze towards where Ryan was watching her, “ain’t no one gonna question where I wanna be now.”

Rip nodded, “afraid we ain’t got a horse to spare for you y/n.”

“I got that covered Rip.  Got one coming up tomorrow from a ranch in Wyoming.  Some fuckin’ old school boys who don’t know how to be nice to a horse they didn’t ruin,” she explained, “man’s wife broke it and now she’s dead ain’t no one gonna ride him gentle.  Figured he might stand a chance with me.”

Lloyd chuckled, “always were a soft hand.  Figured that’s how you won it all.”

“Guess that question that remains is, do you have a place for me?  Not in the house but here,” she clarified.

Lee looked at Rip then back at his sister, “I reckon so.  You gonna stay in the bunkhouse?”

“Oh fuck no,” y/n laughed, “I didn’t drag that thing all the way from Texas to sleep with these fuckheads.  It’s looked after me in worse places.  Think it’ll do just fine here.”

[eternity-death]

Hsr Leaks // Halovian anatomy

WE FINALLY HAVE ANSWERS…

In reality, a halovian’s halo is literally just a projection of their energy. You can’t physically touch it, it’ll just phase through objects.

BUT in the dreamscape, it becomes physical.

In the dreamscape, Halovians can adjust the positions of their halos like adjusting a hat.

It is believed that Halovians are born with plain circles as their halos, but as they get older, the appearance of the halo changes and reflects their experiences and personality.

There are special halovians who can change the appearance of their halo however they want.

Halovians can read minds, but only if they’re 6-10 feet within your vicinity. They can also communicate with other Halovians via telepathy.

Halovians with strong powers of Harmony can use their singing and language to manipulate others.

It is said that some Halovians can unleash psychic attacks to stun their opponent and reduce their intelligence to zero.

[sashi-ya]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟑 DAY 2: GOD FORM Nika! Luffy x F! Reader

Requested by: @jessysapphireblue ➡ Kinktober! Prompt 2 wirh our luffy🥰🥰 Luffy with a female magician reader. Perhaps in a nice secluded Environment and we know curious luffy is and how He would love to test it out with her as she is an absolute sweetheart and laughing with him but she is always so kind and gentle with him even during everything. Pls? I love your writing 🥰💙🩵 tw: mdni. Luffy turns to Nika with his G5. oral. food play. luffy takes you to the clouds, literally. vag. size kink. pretty sweet and romantic. 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Moonshine, kissing your skins with soft silver light. Every time you look up in the sky, and the moon is on full display, you remember Wano kuni.

“Luffy… it’s been a long time since I’ve seen your Nika form” you mumble, with a curious hidden intention floating around in your mind. Not only Luffy is handsome in his normal form, but, the white curls and red eyes have been in the back of your mind since you caught a glimpse of it in between tears of joy for his reborn.

“Nhh? You wanna fight, (Name)?” he jokes, laughing like he only knows how to. That laughter that alters the rhythm of your heart; that makes it beat to the sound of happy drums.

You stand up immediately, looking at him, ignoring he was joking about fighting.

“I don’t wanna fight, I wanna… uh… you know…” you stutter, is not that you aren’t close to Luffy enough to ask him to have intimacy, but this sounded differently. However, Luffy can tell -only with you- when you want it.

“Shi. Shi. Shi… you want me to do it while in Nika form? I kinda thought of it once in the bathroom” he asks, taking the straw hat off his face, allowing his adorable cheeks to be bathed by the biggest star shining above the skies.

Your cheeks burn. He thought of it once?

Your eyes land on his sunshine ones, and nod with no further words. Yet, your expression seems enough to give Luffy the yes he needed.

As soon as it is humanly possible to think, Luffy snatches you by the waist and jumps into the beach coast. It was a calm night. The Sunny had docked in a calm island, with no villains to defeat and only to grab some food to continue the trip after Wano. Everybody had already eaten; Sanji and Zoro were doing the dishes and most of the Strawhats were sleeping inside their home, the Thousand Sunny Go.

“I need a place with a lot of moonlight” he chimes, while jumping off the railing to the slightly cold sand underneath.

“Is that a need for your powers?” you ask, curious.

Luffy doesn’t really know if it’s true or not, but he enjoys seeing your face while his body mixes with yours.

“Mmm… I don’t know…” he lies, and you can clearly tell.

Soon, you get to a secluded area right next to the beach. The waves crashing against some rocks will be the perfect companion to the drums of liberation you are sure you will hear.

“So, how should I do this… nghh…” Luffy thinks, pressing his index in the middle of his forehead. Maybe he needs to transmute or connect his energy to another being to turn into Nika?

You wait, sitting on the rock where he deposited you. Looking like a magical mermaid, Luffy suddenly understands that turning into Nika was easier while looking at the person that makes his heart go fast.

And in indeed, and all of a sudden, with his eyes fixed on yours, his heart starts to go even faster. Beating harder against his chest, turning the things that surrounded him into soft gum.

His pristine white locks flow with the sea breeze, and you could swear the moon shines brighter than before since he transformed. The waves act differently, as if they were waiting for Luffy to command them. And you can’t help but gawk at his majestically look… he does look like a God. His litmus halo, the bleached clothes, his smile, the crimson eyes…

“L-Luffy…” you mumble, in awe. It’s the first time you have him right in front of you, and so close, in such form.

He smiles, or rather, smirks. It makes your stomach drop, and your thighs to tightly close.

Luffy pounces on you, laughing. Your back doesn’t hurt when it hits the rocks behind. It’s all soft, and caring, and you feel happy but also there is a presence that feels like is crushing your lungs, making you dizzy… it is the intensity of Luffy’s Gear 5 power and will.

“You know I can imagine anything and make it happen, (Name)?” he asks, with his pointy nose pressed against yours.

You sigh, loudly. There is enough tension built inside your chest. “I… yes…?”

“If I want to, your clothes can turn into delicious chocolate… shishishi” he laughs, touching your chest. His hands play with the fabrics that cover your body and suddenly he can rip them with no effort. Luffy takes a piece into his mouth, he is even amazed at his own power… in deed, what he wanted, turned to be real; your clothes are made of chocolate now.

He begins devouring your shirt first, and then your pants and when he is ready the panties that began to soak with your needy fluids are now melting in your skin.

Luffy gloats before attacking. He does not eat desperately just yet. First, he bites one string of your panties, and then the other. The tip of his front teeth graze your hipbones, making your quiver every time he does. Your hand reaches his hair and lovingly plays with his soft, alabaster curls.

Everything feels like happiness; pleasure and lust mix with pumping hearts of full devotion and love.

His tongue finally reaches for your core, and while he rejoices in the flavour of chocolate he also does with the salty caramel taste of your core.

Luffy’s fingers search for your hand, and when both collide they interlock; the more he pleases you orally, the more you squeeze.

And he takes you to heaven, because if there is something he is the king already of, that’s oral. Your back arches, and orgasm approaches. One of many more of those he likes to drink from.

But this God does not only take you to the stars just with pleasure, but quite literally…

Easing off the buzzing sound of your heart pumping in your ears, with still aftershocks of pleasure from your climax, you feel his arms around your waist and the wind in your face.

“Luffy! What are you doing?” you ask, surrounding with your arms his neck.

“Let’s try going up to the skies!” he laughs, jumping with you in arms. What once used to be sand, looks more like an elastic bed that he uses to fly up.

You open your eyes, as wide as possible -maybe even popping out?- making him laugh louder. While you can’t help but panic to see your feet that far from the ground… but after all, this is exactly what dating Luffy feels like.

White fluffy material, that feels humid and soft, surrounds both of you. And soon you understand these are clouds.

“Here!” he chimes, pouncing into the most dense of them. Nami has taught you that clouds are nothing but water in a different form, there is no way it can hold you two.

Oh, but it does. As long as Luffy can imagine it, it can.

He helps you lay your back on it, and while your naked body feels like being engulfed by the velvety sensation of such magical bedding, Luffy gets ready to place a sweet kiss on your lips.

“You told me once that being with me feels like you are in cloud nine… but since you didn’t come with us to Skypiea, I thought this could be similar to it…” he whispers, with lips pressed on yours and the sexiest smile you ever seen on his lips.

His right hand next to your face. The left one, softly caressing your cheek. Your toes pulling down his white pants, with your eyes fixed on the darkening of his sight. There is something taking over Luffy, it is perhaps lust. Or maybe something else, you can’t describe so simply.

Hardness you already recognize, playfully grazing your entrance, getting ready to slide deep inside of you.

“Can I try something else?” he asks, before entering completely into you.

“Whatever you do, I want it” you purr, with a soft smile and your index softly caressing his cheekbone scar.

His lips slowly part as he lets himself get surrounded by your clenching inner walls. A growl, manly and not often heard, escapes his lips. A moan coming from yours, mixes with his pants.

You suddenly feel like your insides going bigger, something growing deep inside you. It goes gently, hitting every corner and spot of pleasure in your body.

“Lu- Luffy… what is it?” you ask, confused but still almost unable to think straight because of how good it feels.

“You like it? It is.. ngh… me… bigger me…” he grunts, letting himself crush you with the weight of his body. The pressure around his growing member feels heavenly and he can’t even play cool no more.

His lips land on your neck, while his hips move in and out. Faster every time. Harder, deeper… bigger…

Sloppy lids frame your eyes that fix into the immensity of a sky full of stars. They shine closer to you than ever; they aren’t above, but around you this time.

Your arms hug him tightly, your heels carve on the small of Luffy’s back, your nails scratch his shoulder blades… and your hearts synchronize to the beating drums of liberation, up and above the skies 💖 ~

taglist: @stephisokay @henrioo @shuzuiikoii @bullbonez @fengxinwifutobecalled @i-started-reading-fanfics-at12 @crimsonlikeshellsing @weebare808 @thestarwasborn @bookandyarndragon @cyberdazetragedy @uzxotic @trouble-sistar 💖

[artificial-transmutations]

Anger Issues

When Owen first came to this new city, in this new and foreign country, he was full of hope. A fresh start in an unfamiliar land. It was an adventure! The world was his oyster, and the possibilities were endless! He had just finished university and had a degree in art history, which should make it easy for him to find work.

As it turns out, that was a lie.

For three long, grueling months, Owen tried everything to make a living in the big city. The truth was that his degree often wasn't recognized, and even when it was, he wasn't considered qualified to do the job, often without any obvious reason. The financial reserves he had were draining quickly and his hopes of finding good and fulfilling work in the new city were getting smaller and smaller every day.

"You need experience to get a job, and you can't get a job without experience". Owen never realized how true this saying was until he had stumbled into that very situation. Desperate to get out of it, he finally found an unpaid internship in a museum for ancient art. It was a really interesting field for Owen, but it turned out his tasks were mundane and not related to the exhibits at all. Instead, he was confined to a small office room to scan and sort invoices - a tedious job and hardly what Owen had studied for.

So, one day, in his break, when he went through the exhibition as usual, a wooden figure caught his eye that was apparently brought here this morning. It depicted the torso of a man, showing a sculpted chest. The figure was cut off below the upper arms and above the legs. The face of the man was symmetrical and angelic, although frowning. Above the hair, it showed either a thick halo or some kind of hat.

Owen was inexplicably drawn towards the figure. It was well-preserved and Owen couldn't quite assign it a region or time period. Looking at the sign, Owen realized it had no information about this either. Clearly a curiosity!

Driven by his own desire for knowledge, Owen stepped closer, hoping to get a more detailed look. It was as if a faint whisper was coming from the grim statue, but that must have been his imagination. He reached out with his hand to touch the wooden surface, only to hesitate again. It was, of course, forbidden to touch the exhibits, but perhaps feeling the structure of the wood would help him understand the piece more.

As soon as he touched the surface, the whispers grew louder all of a sudden, and his fingers felt a slight jolt - but both sensations stopped immediately again.

Someone behind him was clearing his throat.

"Ahem. Owen. Do I need to remind you not to touch the exhibit?", Mr. Hastings, the director of the museum, said, looking sternly at Owen.

"Oh, no, Sir, I just thought... it might give me some better understanding..."

"Rules are rules." Mr. Hastings said, but he was smiling again.

Owen however felt a most unusual feeling bubbling up in him. At first, he didn't quite know where to put it, but it soon became very clear to him. He was angry! The rational part of his mind tried to understand why - there was no real reason. Mr. Hastings was right of course and judging by his smile, Owen really didn't have a problem. Regardless, he felt as if he had just been insulted the worst possible way. Before he could stop himself, he burst out:

"Do you know where you can put your precious rules? Fuck them! Fuck you! Fuck this whole place! You don't want me to do real work here?! Fine! I quit!"

Head steaming, Owen removed his museum badge from his jacket and threw it to the ground with such force that the plastic shattered. With another loud "Fuck you!", he ran off, leaving the befuddled Mr. Hastings behind, as well as the museum.

Only after he had walked a few blocks, Owens anger subsided somewhat. What has he been thinking? He should turn around and apologize at once!

Then again, it was an unpaid internship. Even though the way to quit this job hasn't been too professional, what was done was done - and perhaps for the better, too. He could focus on finding a better job now. There surely had to be something.

There wasn't. Owen had no better luck then before, but inexplicably, his tolerance for frustration had diminished. After the third denied application, Owen had become so angry that he actually punched a hole into the thin walls of his apartment. Alongside the anger, there had been some changes to Owen's body, as well: He seemed overall fitter and filled out his clothes better. He also found his libido increased somewhat. Where before he had jerked off perhaps once a week, he found himself hard now more and more often, and his hand was drawn to his cock even more.

Jerking off helped to cool the red hot anger somewhat that he found himself quite often in, so it was quickly becoming a daily thing. However, being constantly torn between being angry and being horny didn't leave much space for patience. His money was running dry, too, so, Owen finally accepted a job in a field that was far below his academic standards: He started a job as a fast-food cashier.

The red "FST" uniform, as the fast food chain was called, was tight on Owen's chest, when he started his first work day. They had probably given him a smaller size, even though they said it was XL. Owen was already feeling angry about that obvious mistake, but he swallowed his anger and let himself be introduced to the cash register.

The system was overwhelmingly complex. It had like a hundred different buttons, and Owen quickly felt his head swimming. It shouldn't be so hard to understand a fast food cash register, but apparently, this one was extra complex. Just his luck!

At some point, he just nodded as the manager showed him the functions of the device. The introduction wasn't very long, only ten minutes, but Owen didn't understand a thing. You really needed a degree for that monstrosity! Still, he was expected to serve his first customer right away, pure insanity.

The first order was easy enough, a plain hamburger and a coke, and after searching the right buttons for a good two minutes, Owen managed to put in the order. However, the second customer wanted a milkshake, too, and that was the final straw. They really couldn't expect Owen to juggle such complex orders in his mind AND put them into the machine. Angrily, he shouted out in frustration and let his fist come down on the cash register with full force, again and again. Of course, the thin metal and plastic yielded to his rage and the machine broke.

"FUCK THIS FUCKING JOB!"

This was the breaking point for Owen. Everything had gone wrong since he had moved to this fucking city. No job, no money, no nothing! He tried to wriggle out of the way-too-small uniform top but ended up ripping it apart instead.

The manager ran over and pulled him from behind.

"Stop that! Stop that right now!"

"LET ME GO! I QUIT!"

"You're going nowhere! You can't leave after what you've done!"

With an angry roar, the now half-naked Owen shoved the manager against the counter with full force and stormed off. He didn't care if the manager wanted to call the police, or sue him, or whatever.

As soon as he arrived at his shabby apartment, Owen took out his laptop and started looking for jobs. He didn't get very far, though. The computer was confusing, and Owen was still feeling angry from his last job. He finally managed to pull up his favorite porn site and started watching videos.

The normal porn he usually consumed didn't do a good job of calming him down today. He needed something rougher, something more primal. The female porn stars were too weak for the sex to be stimulating, he decided.

After clicking through a few more videos, he spied a thumbnail of two guys getting at it roughly. Brilliant. When there were only men involved, the sex would be much better. They wouldn't take shit from the girls, and they'd be strong. Much more satisfying.

Seeing two men having sex brought back his cock to full erection and soon enough, Owen splattered his cum all over his muscular torso.

As the post-nut-clarity set in, Owen realized he had a problem. He needed something to channel all that rage into before it destroyed his life entirely. After some research, he decided to join a Krav Maga club.

The raw brutality of the sport helped Owen to tune off the complicated world around him and made him feel happy for the first time in weeks. He trained often and hard, quickly stacking even more muscles on his already impressive frame. Of course, Owen wasn't clever enough to grasp the techniques of the sport, so he just substituted it by raw strength. A lot of kicks and hits found their way into his face, but he was healing quickly as well. Over the course of a few weeks however, the brutality left its marks in his face. His nose looked crooked as if it had been broken and his jaw looked manly, but not exactly beautiful.

Still, joining the club was the best decision he could have made. He met some new friends, who set him up with a new job as a warehouse worker. Carrying crates and heavy barrels from one place to another was the perfect job for Owen. He didn't need to understand what he was moving, nor did he have to do any paperwork (not that he would have been able to - Owen had his trouble with letters and numbers, which left him pretty much illiterate). He just needed to do what his manager said, and he was happy for it.

Besides the Krav Maga, he found another outlet for his anger issues. Since he couldn't afford his flat anymore, Owen moved in with a couple of garbage workers he met at the warehouse. As it turned out, they, too, were gay and enjoyed it quite a lot when Owen split their cheeks roughly, not holding back one bit.

[livelaughlovesubs]

Do you write about michael from whb? If its fine with you, can you write a hc what his going to be as a yandere? Reader could be anything but i prefer if they our normal mc ^^

Oh, alright, so yandere Michael with ra-on as reader? Sure then, I’ll gladly oblige! Sorry that you had to wait so long, but now that the new event came out, I have a pretty good idea how I want to portray him.

Yandere Michael

Warning: dark content, disturbing topics, blood, gore, obsessive behaviour

I headcanon him, like many other angels, to be a total psycho when in love. That’s pretty much canon. The question is just, how crazy would he be?

- he’d never blame you for all your deeds, it’s always the fault of another

- in other words he is doing everything he can to delude himself into thinking this is alright, it’s not against the rules he set for himself

- god wanted him to love you, it was destined to happen

- “you were just so bright, and there was no way to explain it, it must be gods will”

- that’s what he’d say to himself among other things

- if it wasn’t clear enough, he’d kill for you, even his own brothers, except lucifer

- he’d go down to hell and declare war on your favourite king/ noble, his excuse? They were taking you away from him

- you could stop that though, by finally putting him on a leash

- no matter what you did to him, he’d still love you unconditionally, his love would never falter like his faith

- you could do the most unspeakable things to him, treat him as if he was a mere toy, as if he was nothing more than a pretty face

- and he’d thank you for your attention, greeting you with a smile brighter than his halo

- ruin him, mind and body, bruise him or break his leg, he doesn’t care, as long as you keep touching him and give him your full attention

- honestly, you could make him into a devil and he wouldn’t care, rip his wings off and make the blessing of god leave him

- it would make him have an internal crisis, since he isn’t supposed to be like this, but he’d put the blame on someone else

- this man is so prideful a no narcissistic, he only cares about his own feelings, god, lucifer, and now you too

- which is why he doesn’t care about anything else, as long as he gets to feel good and ‘loved’ (even though you are brutalising him) he’s content

- the worst type of of yandere, would totally kidnap you, even if the punishment is amputation

- he is one hell of a nuisance, there is literally no other way to deal with him than locking him up

- otherwise he’ll just keep attacking hell, or kidnap you, or kill other species, no matter how you reprimand him. He got away with it for eons, what makes you think you can change him?

- it’s not like he loves you anyway, he only loves you because you are a replacement for god and his dear brother, only because you are as kind and as forgiving as they used to be

- oh you naive child

- if you don’t lock him up and keep him away, he’ll eventually annihilate the devils, unless luci steps in that is

- but he’ll definitely kidnap you, hats so obvious! He’ll want to keep you all to himself, he’d even make alternations to your body to keep you from leaving

- he has trust issues, remember? All because of god and his lovely older brother

- words alone aren’t enough, he needs to know you can’t leave him, like you mentally and physically can’t

- if you don’t want that, there are two other ways, and that is using what he’d do to you against him

- like if you do restrain him.. keeping him chained like what he did to you, making him be alone for months without knowing when you’ll come back (that’s still the nice way to threat him, trust me)

- then he will finally stop causing harm! Though the second you get him out of the restains, he’ll clench onto you, hold you, tell you how much he loves and missed you, looking up at you with those obsessive eyes of him and a furious blush covering his cheeks, and kill anyone that dares to get close to you two

- which is why I recommend the more inhuman way to treating him if he does become your yandere, unless you love him enough to spend all your time with him, tending to his every need and sacrificing yourself in the process

- rip his other eyes out, watch him scream in agony, call ronove to amputate his arms and legs

- he can shoot lasers out of his hand, I repeat, he can shoot those out of his fingertips

- make him disabled, enough that he become a weak and helpless animal that can’t do anything to threaten anyone

- oh, I forgot to mention but rip his wings too, he shouldn’t be able to fly

- once you did all of this, maybe cut off his tongue while you are at it, he tends to have a foul mouth

- who knows, maybe he can shoot lasers from there too?

- honestly, it will be hard to keep him alive at this point, but if you still desire to do so, Welp, congratulations, he is totally harmless now!

- and as soon as he hears you enter his room, his cheeks will turn red and sounds of joy would escape his throat

- what a joke he is, he still ‘loves’ you so dearly after all you did huh?

- God, do you see this? This is the result of your action, unyielding love and affection from those beings that called themselves pure, how amazing