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morallyinept · 1 month

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Pump - A Javier Peña One Shot

Summary: A man starts coming into the gym where you work, and you find you can't keep your eyes off him when he starts to pump...

Pairing: Javier Peña x GN!Reader (No name, defined sex or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.)

Word Count: 2.6k

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️ “Don't hurt me, cadejo."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/Triggers: PWP/Javi wearing the tiniest satin shorts ever made/cock outline/possible peek of a ball/very pervy thoughts over a very sweaty Javi 🥵

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: I saw this amazing fanart today of Javi, and the thots just thotted the fuck out of me... 🫠

MAIN MASTERLIST | JAVIER PEÑA MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

His visits are the fucking highlight of your day.

You find yourself searching for him as you meander through the gym with an added bounce in your step, stack of laundered towels in hand as you drop them around the equipment like newspapers tossed on garden lawns.

Rows of clunky weightlifting machines stand proudly, their chrome frames gleaming under the dim fluorescent lights.

Tattered, vinyl-covered benches line the perimeter of the room, each one bearing the marks of countless hours of use by sweaty bodies and muscled lunkheads striving for physical perfection.

The sound of heavy metal plates clinking together fills the air as the group of agents, from the local DEA office across the steamed pavement street, load up barbells and dumbbells, their focused expressions a melee of pinched, taut brows and refined muscles.

Despite the seriousness of their profession, the moderately sized gym is a tatty haven where they can unwind and bond over their shared passion for catching dangerous narcos and pumping iron in machismo camaraderie.

The walls in Manny’s Gym are adorned with curled edge motivational posters featuring slogans like No Pain, No Gain and Train Hard, Fight Easy, with iconic muscle men of the current era plastered over them like Arnold Schwarzenegger, Franco Columbu, and Lou Ferrigno, serving as constant reminders of the grit and determination required to succeed in both the gym and the field.

The air is always thick with the unmistakable scent of musky sweat, mingling with the earthy aroma of old leather from well-worn punch bags that hang from the ceiling like dangling scrotums swaying in a pendulous rhythm.

Steamy showers and weak powdery deodorant permeates. It’s a heady concoction that hints at the countless hours of exertion and dedication that's saturated the space.

A scent that you’re all too familiar with and breathe in like starved oxygen.

The wooden floor creaks beneath your sneakers as you make your way further into the gym, the sound echoing off the walls.

As you approach the rows of clunky weightlifting machines, the tangy scent of metal fills your nostrils, accompanied by the faint whiff of oil used to lubricate the gears.

Despite his gruff exterior, Manny himself hosts a warm and welcoming demeanour to the regular gym goers, always ready with a word of encouragement, or a pat on the back for those who train under his roof.

He takes great pride in the sense of community that’s flourished within the gym, fostering a supportive environment where the local Bogotá law and DEA alike choose to pump here.

It’s not exclusive, your regular Joe Sixpack will frequent on occasion, but the familiar faces make it far more easy on the eye as you bask in the array of sweaty limbs on the daily.

They give you wolf-whistles and jeers as you shimmy on by handing out towels and sweat bands with a beaming, enticing smile.

But you don’t pay them no mind when they flirt back and grin with glistening rows of hungry teeth like you’re ripe for the plucking. A juicy peach bobbing in a swamp full of toothless alligators. They're physically respectful despite their obvious leers.

Most of them aren't really your type anyway. Stiff, upper pale bodies with honeyed hair falling in waves; the Americans are all the same Mattel crafted hard plastic.

Whereas you prefer something more dark and velvety rich like Colombian coffee that goes down easy and smooth and leaves a heady aftertaste on your lips.

There's one man in particular you'd like to drink down, whom you’ve noticed coming in a few times in recent weeks.

It’s hard to forget him with those tiny, satin shorts he wears in a stark canary yellow, and riding dangerously high up his lean, caramel thighs.

A break in the tight denim jeans that wrap around his legs when you’ve spied him leaving the gym, freshly clean and dressed after a hard workout, and heading back into the office.

Package stuffed tight up in there, poor thing; the brilliant tightness restricting and choking around that hefty bulge all day.

A neatly trimmed moustache adorns his upper lip, thick and fluffy, adding a touch of rugged charm to his otherwise clean-cut appearance. His standard issue DEA gym t-shirt seems a little on the small side, hugging around his golden biceps and riding skintight across the broadest set of shoulders you’ve ever seen on a man his size; a complete opposing parallel to the trimness of his waist. He’s like an inverted triangle.

It rides up a little over his tiny belly; a galaxy of dark hairs trailing down into his shorts that makes you lick your lips every time your eyes fall onto that hairy column.

His dark brown hair, slicked back slightly and curling on the nape, glistens with sweat, adding to his aura of intensity and focus. He exudes an effortless confidence as he moves from one exercise to the next.

The Latino-looking man focuses on a combination of strength training and cardio, showcasing his versatility and athleticism needed for the job he does.

And you find yourself enthralled in his routine, interrupting yours as you covertly watch him from behind the small desk trying not to flood it with your drool.

He usually starts with a set of heavy deadlifts; the sound of his puffs hissing through his teeth and reverberating through the gym as he lifts with perfect form.

Next, he moves on to explosive plyometric jumps. Clad in those tiny, satin shorts that hug his muscular thighs, his powerful legs propel him effortlessly into the air before landing with precision. You can’t help but watch as the muscles and cords in his thighs ripple with each slam of his soles on the floor.

Throughout his workout, he maintains a steely determination and laser-like focus with punishing chocolate eyes, pushing himself to the limit with each repetition; sweat glistening around his brow and temples and falling in tracks.

Despite the intensity of his workouts, there’s a relaxed confidence in his demeanour, reflected in the easy, fluid movements of his svelte body as he moves through the reps.

You watch his back move and shift, broad shoulder blades folding in and out as they flex under the snug fit of his fading t-shirt. His posture is upright and nonplussed, conveying a sense of self-assurance.

Standing at an average height, his frame is lean, yet powerful, and you can’t help but let your thoughts drift into murky territories as your eyes wander all over him and drink him up like a quenching soda on a sweltering day.

You know very little about him, only hearing his name muttered by the other agents as he addresses them pre-work, out or when they stop mid-way through to discuss, what you can only assume, is the cases they’re working on.

The dusty jukebox in the corner playing the current Billy Idol hit drowns them out somewhat at this distance.

But they call him Peña, or Javi as they sometimes greet him through lazy Spanish chit-chat.

He called you cariño once as he passed, mouthing a good morning to you with little effort.

He speaks with a soft, deep cadence; a gravelled grizzle wrapped around his pert lips, which is almost muted and out of full earshot.

But the one thing that's unmistakably loud and clear, is the grunting that pelts out of him.

Particularly when he does bench presses, or those barbell squats with the large weight resting on his shoulders. A deep, guttural grunt ruts out of him that sets your skin alight and makes your genitals want to break out the pompoms and start cheering his name doing high kicks.

They flow unabashed out of him as he pants and hisses. And you like it when he does those squats the most, watching as he parts his feet steady, and slowly lowers his pert ass down towards the floor, rendering those tiny shorts to almost disappear entirely into the rounded crack of his cheeks.

Fuck...

Javi focuses on his reflection in the mirror, lips curled back under that buoyant dark fluff lining his top lip, and teeth clenched in a snarl as he breathes out and grunts loudly with every push upwards from those strong thighs that tense and quiver.

As you observe him from across the gym, you can't ignore the undeniable attraction you feel towards him as it licks up your spine; it makes you clench and sweat just watching him and the fantastic sex-like faces he makes in the mirror.

His sculpted physique and rugged good looks are certainly appealing, but your eyes betray you and head further south at the constant movement inside his flimsy shorts.

Gaudy in their brightness, you see past them at the way they flout their thinness like they’re almost fucking see-through. You like the tease of how low they sit on his svelte hips. A simple tug and they’ll be round his ankles with ease.

You can make out the perfect outline of his heavy, flaccid cock hanging between his legs. Curves and ridges imprinted against the material like muscle memory. Flopping about so uncouthly as he moves like it’s battering you in the face.

Jesus fucking Christ.

With your task temporarily forgotten and brain slowly sluicing out of your ears, the sight of his cock outlining around the thin satin draws you in further. A third arm beckoning you in. Punching against the material with every movement from his hips as though you're mesmerised and drunk on the wildly pornographic view.

You’re pretty certain he’s not wearing any underwear, which is only confirmed by a fuzzy, pink sack peeping out at you some time later when he works on the bench, and draws his leg up.

You swallow dryly as you stare at it, and wonder instantly what it would taste like as you imagine running your mouth around its swell.

Tasting damp, matted pubic hairs sticking to your tongue, with a salted sweat and mixture of his own masculine musk on your tastebuds, and the more you ponder it, the more it makes your mouth water.

You just want to push him back on the bench, naked from the waist down except for his faded white sneakers on, ribbed thick socks pulled up to his shins, and spread his legs wide.

You want to slide your inquisitive tongue all over those sweaty, heavy balls of his and watch his cock throb and pulse before taking it deep into your throat.

A tight clench and a hiss. A pucker of a fluttering hole as you tease it with your tongue. Lips and hips bruised in unison.

Googly frog eyes stare out at him in wonder. A noise at the back of your throat registers, something inhuman between a gulp and a hiccup as he rises up again off the bench.

Humming and sighing audibly as he presents that ass out at you, shorts flapping around his cock lewdly in the mirror’s reflection as he squats again.

As you observe him from across the gym, you feel the pull of heavy want flooding your body in a stifling and suffocating heat. It makes your toes tingle and your heart thrum a bit harder. White noise steams inside your ears.

The dull, aching throb between your own legs makes you shift uncomfortably in the chair as you gulp and swallow at the spectacle.

With each lift of the weights and every drop of sweat that glistens on his brow and moustache, you find your mind sinking further into a perverted swamp of lust and unbridled thoughts running amok over your amygdala.

In your mind, Javi’s pushing you up against the mirror, face crushed against it, trailing bites down on the back of your slick neck like a dog in heat. Your breath fogging against the reflective sheet as he pins your wrists to it with his hands, leaving misty fingerprint smears on the polished glass.

You can taste the sweat on his top lip, fuzzy and damp, and it's damn delicious as he pushes his crotch into your ass. Hard and thick under those flimsy, lacquer-like shorts, leaking a patch of pre-cum soaking into them that blooms and darkens the silk.

His hands let go of your wrists and work their way down your arms, tickling gently and sending prickles to bubble and blister against your burning skin. He skims over your belly and hovers above your waistband; his hot breath inside your ears in gaspy, mouthed moans as he breathes out.

He whispers how much he wants you, how much he wants everyone to watch him fuck you up agasint this mirror, before he slips his nimble, thick fingers down inside the front of your shorts, grinding and rubbing himself against you.

He’s pulling down his satin shorts to let his hard, thick cock bounce out at you, pumping its uncut, rosy head inside his giant hand. Weeping and sticky, it shines at you as his fingers and thumb smear in the secretions, and you watch as he licks his fingers free of his own greased drippings.

You lick your lips ready for a taste as he guides the bulbous head towards your mouth as you sink, thudding to your knees. Feel him weighty and warm in your palm, squeezing just under the head and sliding the skin back to reveal that succulent bulb as you lick the tip and taste glassy bubbles flowing from him before swallowing him down deep.

Suck it, cariño, yeah like that… Tómalo todo. Trágatelo profundo. Si… aah, si. Fuck... (Take it all. Swallow it deep. Yes, aah yes.)

Lost in your thoughts, you barely notice when Javi actually glances in your direction; his dark eyes meeting yours briefly with a knitted brow and pink pout, before returning to his workout.

The brief exchange sends a thrill of wanton excitement coursing through your veins, igniting a spark of curiosity and anticipation that you can't ignore as it pulls tight between your legs and makes you pulse.

As the DEA agent finishes his workout and begins to gather his belongings - he carries a modest blue duffle bag, although never takes anything out of it's fullness - you can't help but feel a pang of disappointment at the thought of him leaving you so riled up for another day.

He grabs his worn water bottle and squeezes a stream of water into his mouth, swallowing deep and plentiful mouthfuls of the jet, and wipes at his lips with the back of his hand when some of it trickles down his smoothly shaved chin.

You watch him pick up the towel you’d laid out, wipe his face off and that onyx-like stare is in your direction again. Two pools of dark tar sucking you in.

A wet, slithery thought creeping in between your ears makes a mental note to take that towel when he's done and defile the fuck out of it.

He finds something in your eyes, perhaps something that excites him, or repulses him. You’re not sure. You’re yet to embark on any formal conversation beyond a simple greeting out of politeness.

As Javi makes his way towards you, passing the desk towards the showers, you're convinced you see a small smirk prick at the corners of his lips.

Another wanton thought bolts its way into the filthy pit of your mind. You see yourself rising up on the balls of your feet in the shower block and presenting your behind out to him and he bends you over further to touch your toes.

You feel his grip around your waist as he slides in and packs you out, stretching you around him. Knees buckling and being drowned by the spray from above as he fucks you hard against the cool, mildewed tiles in the shower block.

You feel like your spine will crack with the pressure, but you don’t care as he pulls you back, hammering up into you. Fingers grazing around your throat, teeth biting into the ball of your wet shoulder.

So fucking tight, just like I love it, baby...

You're gasping his name as your orgasm rips through you and he spills himself inside of your hole with Spanish expletives howling in your ear.

His thick, plentiful come seeps out of you; leaking, pouring. So much pumped into you as he grunts into your ear - shuddering with a high-octane thrill as his moustache tickles against your skin.

You’ll think about this again - about him - when you're at home later; that towel shoved between your legs and soaked with your own leakings.

You catch the hazy scent of Javi as he passes by the desk, subtly inhaling the stench of his sweat; an intoxicating, potent blend of musk and masculinity that leaves you feeling breathless.

A primal aroma that grabs you by the lapels to shake the cock-addled stupid out of you as you catch a glimpse of that package swaying and bobbing around in his tiny flaxen shorts to torment you further.

And once more you swallow around a constricted gulp as he meets your wandering gaze.

“Hasta la próxima vez, cariño.” (See you next time, honey.) He simply husks, as he tosses his duffle bag over his shoulder and struts towards the showers.

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed this sweaty story. Please consider re-blogging so others can enjoy it too. Thankies! 🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST | JAVIER PEÑA MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #javier peña #javier pena #pedro pascal characters #javier pena x reader #javier pena smut #javier pena narcos #narcos #jett's writing

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dead-dove-yandere · 2 months

Text

OC Intro - Noah

Voyeur Yandere

Male ♡ 21 ♡ Human ♡ NEET

TW: Stalking, non-consensual photography, voyeurism, obsession

♡ - By all accounts, he’s a nobody, a loser. A former latchkey kid with an emotionally absent family, no friends, constantly teased and bullied growing up.

♡ - All he had to satisfy his need for connection was the ever growing collection of horror films.

♡ - Everyday after school, he’d watch them over and over, taking pictures of his favourite actors and actresses from magazines and posters and carefully pasting them into scrapbooks for him to worship later.

♡ - He’d spend all of class daydreaming about meeting all his favourite stars and how they’d love him, not ignore or mistreat him like everyone else in his life.

♡ - He barely managed to graduate high school and afford a small apartment, with nothing but a mattress on the floor, piles of his movies and a cheap portable DVD player to watch them on.

♡ - He only just manages to scrape by, scrounging up enough each month to pay his bills. With no job and no social life, he falls into a spiral of depression.

♡ - Until he met his darling. You.

♡ - Dragging himself to the convenience store one evening to search for dinner, he saw you, practically glowing under the fluorescent lights and he knew he had to do absolutely anything to worship you.

♡ - It started small, frequenting that same store in hopes of seeing you again. Then he escalated. He scoped out other shops you went to. Collected receipts that fell from your pocket. He scoped out where you live and stood outside, trying to find the best angle to peer into your bedroom window.

♡ - With what little money he was able to scrounge up he bought a camera and started taking photos of you surreptitiously, first through your bedroom window, then from afar at your place of work, and eventually even from right behind you as you walk down the street, once he plucks up the courage.

♡ - Every photo is treasured, loving printed, cut out and pasted into his scrapbook just like all of his favourite movie stars.

♡ - It isn’t long before he starts filming you too. With no job of his own, he has all the time in the world to secretly follow you and film your every move before burning the footage to a disc and watching it over and over - his own found footage horror film.

♡ - He can’t wait to meet his favourite star. For now he’s too shy to try to introduce himself. But for now, perhaps it’s better he loves you through the screen. It’s what he knows after all.

♡ - But soon, he’ll make his move - after all, he wants nothing more than to show you all his favourite films.

♡ - He’s a sopping wet pathetic loser of a nobody, but he’ll be damned if he isn’t going to ensure that he is your sopping wet pathetic loser.

Personality

Noah is a NEET, prone to bouts of low self esteem, but he is easily motivated by his darling. He worships and reveres his darling like they were a deity, the same way he obsesses over film stars and celebrities, who he used to get attached to as a teen. He’s shy and feels it’s a lot easier to just watch his darling, whether it be through the thousands of photos and hours of footage he’s amassed or whether it be engaging through voyeurism more directly. That being said, he dreams of finally working up to courage to talk to his darling, and take them back to his apartment, even if he is embarrassed about how bare it is. He’s obsessive, devoted and utterly pathetic and would bend over backwards to please his darling even if it would hurt him. He’d do almost anything - except let his darling go, of course. A lovesick puppy of a yandere, completely in denial about anything being wrong whatsoever.

This is my first time writing something like this! I hope it is okay!

More OC intros and writing involving my characters will be coming soon - I plan to open requests for the first time once I have built up a larger catalog of stories and OCs :))

Dividers Credit: See Pinned Post

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hp-hcs · 5 months

Note

Yandere Theo & Enzo x male muggle reader

Where they both go out one night to see what the outside of the wizarding world is like and bump into a muggle (the reader) who lets them stay at his house and shows them around, thinking they’re tourists.

But they fall madly in love with him and now when they have to go back to hogwarts they kidnap him and take him with them.

The reader is stuck in their room, a spell cast where he can’t leave and he’s freaking out.

+ can they be like super touchy with him and affectionate and possessive and he’s just thinking that it’s like a normal thing from “whatever country they’re from”

T h a n k s (:

OH i wish i had a tenth of the imagination y’all have i mean cmon y’all be out here bringing the most well thought out ideas and my fics are all just like “l i ght hu ose 👍🥰👍”

oh also i don’t speak italian so if i fucked up that’s why lmfao i took fucking latin in high school, not anything actually useful 🥲

requests open!

BIC — yandere! enzo berkshire x male! muggle! reader x yandere! theodore nott

warnings: kidnapping/abduction, infatuation (?), implied tobacco use

(also ik they wouldn’t be using US dollars but shhhh)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Oh, Merlin, my father is going to kill me-”

“Relax,” Theo rolled his eyes, a bit winded from Apparating. “Think of it as just a… fifteen minute excursion. Tops.”

“Right, tops,” Enzo mumbled anxiously, rubbing his freezing hands together as another gust of snow blew past.

As he stamped his feet in an attempt to get feeling back into his frigid lower limbs, Enzo looked through the windows of the damned store Theo just had to show him. (There’s this one boy there, Enz, and he’s just gorgeous. You gotta see him.)

Large posters dominated most of the windows, advertising things Enzo had never heard of before, like whatever a ‘Monster Java’ and ‘Geekvape’ was. Stacked outside the store was an entire shelving unit of something called ‘propane’.

Through the windows, Enz could see rows upon rows of candy, chips, snacks, sodas, all in obnoxiously saturated colored packaging. A buzzing neon sign that hurt to look at flashed the word OPEN in blue and red.

This store was awesome.

Lorenzo looked up at the half burnt-out sign above the door that proclaimed this magically wonderful place to be the shop of ‘Jacksons’.

A small bell chimed when Theo pulled open the door, startling Enzo. He followed his much more confident friend inside the store, looking around with wide eyes.

Theodore stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, leaning in to whisper into his ear.

“Okay, the guy I was telling you about? He’s kind of under the impression that I’m like, a tourist from out of the country, and that’s why we’re so unfamiliar with their wares. If he asks, we’re Italian exchange students and only speak shitty English, got it?”

Enzo nodded. As if on cue, a ‘Jacksons’ employee popped up out of seemingly nowhere, startling the fuck out of him.

“Hiya, Theodore!”

The employee—a boy around their age, maybe seventeen at the most—was unusually chipper for 10PM on a Sunday.

This must be the guy.

“Who’s your friend here, Theodore?” You asked, smiling.

“Hello, Y/N! This is Lorenzo.”

“Hello,” Enzo greeted softly, his cheeks flushed pink from the snowstorm outside (and that’s the only reason, Theo, stop laughing.)

“Can I help you boys find anything or’re y’all just looking around?”

Enzo couldn’t look away from you. How small you seemed in comparison to his awkwardly lanky height, the way the harsh fluorescents cast dramatic shadows of your eyelashes across your cheekbones, the light blush on the tips of your ears as you looked at Theodore.

Theodore.

He’d said your name. You’d said his name. You knew each other?

How often does he fucking come here? Enzo wondered, a sharp stab of jealousy running through him.

“Cigarettes,” Theo said immediately, exaggerating his usually undetectable accent to an honestly ridiculous amount. Enzo bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at his friend’s ridiculousness.

You just smiled and ducked behind the counter. “Same as last time, or’re you trying something new?”

“Same, please. And un accendino, please,” Theo made a clicking motion with his thumb, indicating a lighter.

You nod, easily pulling down a pack of Marlboro Red without a second thought.

How often does he come here? Enzo wondered for a second time. Enough that you know his favorite kind of cigarette.

“Cheap lighter or d’you wanna go fancy?”

“Cheap, please.”

“Alrighty, one BIC lighter coming up for ya,” you grabbed a lighter off the back wall behind the counter, setting it down by the cash register.

Enzo couldn’t help himself as he stared at the bright blue chunk of… what did Muggles call it again? Plastic.

“Bic?”

You glanced up at his timid voice, shooting him a grin that was just a bit friendlier than the classic customer-service smile. “BIC. It’s just the brand. They make cheap lighters and also pens, for some reason.”

Enzo wanted to ask what a ‘pen’ was, but he had a feeling that that was a terrible idea.

“$7.98. Cash, I assume?”

Theo, for the first time, genuinely faltered, cringing apologetically as he laid down the mess of all-identical green papers on the countertop.

You smiled patiently, plucking one paper out of the spread and pushing a few buttons on the cash register, then returning two papers and a handful of coins to a baffled Theo.

Fucking Muggles, with their impossible-to-memorize currency.

“Damn. It’s really coming down out there,” you shook your head as you peered out the front window of the store, waiting for the long white piece of paper to stop moving from the odd humming machine that sat next to the cash register. “Where’re y’all staying? I don’t think you guys should try to drive home in this.”

They follow your gaze, eyes widening when they see how high the snow has risen. The storm had gotten much, much worse.

“Hey- where is your car, anyway? The parking lot’s empty,” your eyebrows furrowed as you turned back to them with a quizzical face.

Enzo mentally panicked. He knew the word ‘car’—he probably heard it while only half-paying attention in Muggle Studies—but he couldn’t for the life of him remember what a ‘car’ was.

“We walked,” Theo said quickly, jumping in and taking hold of the conversation.

“You walked?” You asked, clearly horrified. “No, no. I can’t in good conscience let you two walk back in this. Haven’t you seen the weather? It’s supposed to be like, nearly a blizzard! Worst snowstorm of the decade!”

Lorenzo’s eyes widened.

Muggles could predict the weather? Holy Salazar, his parents might’ve been wrong about Muggles’ intelligence.

You misinterpreted the way his eyes widened. “Listen, this sounds crazy, but would you guys like, consider crashing at my apartment? Just for the night? Maybe the snow’ll clear up overnight.”

Theo opened his mouth to protest, no, really, we couldn’t take advantage of such hospitality, Y/N, but Lorenzo interrupted.

“We would much like that,” he said firmly. “If it is no problem for you.”

Staying at this hot guy’s apartment for the night? Duh, that’s an obvious yes.

“It’s no problem,” you wave off his concern. “‘sides, wouldn’t want a pair of pretty boys such as yourselves to freeze to death, now would I?”

Theo stiffened and blushed bright red at that, a dopey smile spreading across his face.

Oh Merlin, were you two flirting with each other? Enzo felt that sharp spark of jealousy flare up again in his chest, dampered only by the fact that it was Theo, and not anyone else.

“It’s just right across the street. Lemme close up shop for the night, and we can make a run for it,” you say with finality, ignore Theo’s weak protests.

They watched as you lock the cash register and counter with the practiced ease of someone who had done so many, many times.

You pulled the grate down over the cigarette shelves on the back wall, flicking off the overhead lights and tugging a tiny metal string that made the painfully bright OPEN sign go dark.

“Alright, let’s go,” you said, shooing them out onto the sidewalk, buttoning up your heavy winter coat, and locking the front door.

As you stuffed the keys back into your jeans pocket, Theodore rested his hand on the small of your back.

“Lead the way, bello,” he said with a charming grin. You nodded, smiling at the difference in cultures, wow! and motioning for them to follow you.

The boys followed you in a comfortable silence, shoulders hunched up as they braced themselves against the furiously icy wind.

You all crossed the street, Theodore and Enzo both baffled when a tiny light that looked like a person indicated it was safe to cross.

Your boots clanged on the shaky metal stairs up to the third floor of your apartment building, and your boys followed resolutely.

When they reached the landing, they were met by the image of your rather quaint front door, a tiny, clearly homemade wreath hanging on the center.

“This is it. Not much, I’m afraid,” you sighed, your freezing fingers fumbling with the key as you twisted it in the lock, opening the door for them. You flicked on the lights, illuminating the interior of the small apartment. “Do you guys want tea? Hot chocolate? Coffee, if y’all are psychopaths?”

“Perhaps it is a bit late for coffee,” Theo snickered at your dry humor as he stepped inside. “Tea, if it is not a hassle?”

“‘Course not. Make yourselves at home. My mother won’t be back for hours,” you chatted happily, setting a kettle of water on the stove to boil.

Theodore tentatively sat down at one of the kitchen chairs, looking around the small apartment in surprise. At your reassuring smile, Enzo sat down too, drumming his fingers against the table anxiously.

The kettle whistled after a few minutes, and you poured three mugs of tea, setting them on the table and settling down in one of the empty seats.

Theo reached for one, purposefully brushing his fingers against yours.

After that, it all goes blank.

~~~

Your eyes slowly cracked open, your head pounding and your stomach twisting and turning. You blinked away sleep, rubbing your eyes and yawning as you sat up in bed.

What happened last night?

You startled when your brain finally registers that you’re not in your apartment.

You sat up in a panic, looking around horrified when you don’t recognize your surroundings. The room itself was decorated with an honestly abhorrent amount of green and shiny silver. There were three other beds, identical to the one you were laying in, set up intermittently around the room.

A dorm? You wondered.

A huge window dominated the wall adjacent to the bed you were in, the view on the other side of it oddly distorted and warped.

You leaned in closer, confused, when a tiny yellow fish swam by.

You gasped, and put your hand on the glass to peer out even further.

Were you underwater?

Your amazement was interrupted by a large unidentifiable shadow filling the window. You frowned, your hand drawing back from the glass, when the shadowy shape moved, opening.

A giant fucking eye.

“Jesus fucking-”

You scrambled backwards, falling off of the bed with a yelp. While you fought with the blankets that seemed hell-bent on getting tangled around your legs, the giant eye slowly blinked before the shadowy form started moving again.

A giant squid, you thought with astonishment. There was a giant fucking squid outside of this dorm room’s window.

Finally wrenching yourself free of your blanket prison, you scrambled to your feet and sprinted towards the only door in the room. You jiggled the handle, cursing when it didn’t open.

There wasn’t even a lock, a keyhole, nothing.

How the hell was this door so firmly locked shut then?

Something tacked to the door- actually, there wasn’t a tack either. How was it stuck there?

But what caught your eye was a small scrap of… paper? Parchment? It looked like the paper your art teacher once showed you how to stain with tea.

Who the fuck still writes on parchment? You wondered, scrunching your eyebrows up in confusion as you examined the perfect swoops of calligraphy on the page.

Darling – We’re really sorry for taking you with us (please don’t hate us) and we'll be back here around noon Xoxo, Theo & Enzo (those actually are our real names we promise!!)

((we also might’ve made your mother forget about your existence so she doesn’t try to find you. you’re safe though, don’t worry!))

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

wow! people actually like my stuff enough that i now have a taglist??? (some of y’all weren’t showing up, so lmk if i need to troubleshoot 😭)

@gayaristocrat @slytherinboysappreciation @lemonaderiddle @h-------n @yournogoodalone @knave-hearts @schaebickel @lexacantsleep @big-brother-problems @darkcharmx @cyberbl4de @amandajonhsson @megannxn @catz-80 @ghostiesen @fruityfrog505 @coysa @fruitypebblesstuff @mildlyuninformative @glittervame @cayaevans1 @lizeylavender @cloudydaysinmydreams @ironickarkatlover @ahead-fullofdreams @tachyon-girl @jaythes1mp @lovelyfandomqueen @ashisgreedy

#harry potter #fuck jkr #hp x male reader #hp #x male reader #x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #male reader #theo nott #yandere theodore nott #enzo berkshire #enzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire #slytherin boys

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atomic-chronoscaph · 5 days

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The Invincible Iron Man blacklight poster (1971)

#the invincible iron man #70s blacklight posters #marvel comics #tony stark #comic art #george tuska #fluorescent posters #day-glo #vintage posters #third eye posters #seventies #1971

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cielur5ww · 2 months

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୨🎻୧ ─────・ the violist boy

▭ Synopsis﹕ Scaramouche by chance met someone from the music club, a boy he didn't even know from school. Maybe the beginning of a story.

★ ❪CW❫── amab!reader!violist x scaramouche, modern AU, fluff.

ᶻz ─── n/a﹕Finally, I no longer have a block, I will just throw up this idea. Oh, and it will have other parts, I think... if I don't procrastinate─ It's quite short, I'm really sorry 😭

❱❱ first part

Scaramouche trudged through the deserted hallways, his mind still trapped in the day's frustrations. He observed the fluorescent lights flickering intermittently, casting shadows on the peeling walls and faded posters advertising long-gone events. Each step felt like an extra effort in his battle against exhaustion.

He had checked his phone, and the clock read 3:34 pm, a constant reminder of time lost and pending responsibilities. He sighed resignedly, wishing to be anywhere but in that school, stashed his phone in his backpack, and furrowed his brow. The incident with the calculator in the last class had been the final straw, and Scaramouche longed to escape it all right now.

The corridors, usually bustling with activity, now seemed empty and silent, as if they were commiserating with his plight. Though they were empty because classes ended at 3:00 pm, thanks to a classmate's fault, he had to stay late with the rest of the idiots from the classroom.

How he hated his day.

However, a sweet, melodic whisper broke the silence and seeped into his troubled soul.

He recognized the tune of a violin, and though at first it was just a distant murmur, it soon became an irresistible echo that drew him in like a magnet.

His sluggish pace halted for a moment as his ears leaned towards the sound, as if seeking a source of relief.

Following the echo of the notes, Scaramouche found himself walking towards the music club, a place he usually avoided due to his tight schedule and lack of interest in extracurricular activities. But this time, the music called to him, like a siren drawing a sailor lost in the stormy sea.

As if the sound of the violin itself were a balm for his weary mind.

Reaching the half-open door of the music room, Scaramouche hesitated for a moment.

Should I go in? What could I find inside? But the melody was hypnotizing him, enveloping him in its sweet embrace, temporarily erasing his worries and frustrations.

With a resigned sigh, he pushed the door open and stepped into the room, peeking inside. And there, in the center of the room, he saw someone standing with a violin in hand, their fingers dancing gracefully and skillfully over the strings.

The music filled the room, weaving a magical spell that enveloped the space, as if it were trying to capture the hearts of future listeners, or simply practicing to portray something.

Scaramouche stood there, silently observing, as the melody transported him to another place, far from the tensions and worries of his day. For a moment, he allowed himself to get lost in the background sound, letting his problems fade away in the sweet harmony of the violin, that he took greedily.

But it was shattered by the sudden silence that followed the cessation of the melody echoing in the room, as the boy with the violin slowly lowered the bow, his eyes met Scaramouche's violet eyes. An expression of surprise and slight confusion crossed his face upon seeing him standing there, as if he had interrupted a private moment.

Scaramouche felt like he was under an unwanted spotlight, his cheeks burning with embarrassment, as he instinctively stepped back towards the door, coming out. However, he slammed the door shut with more force than necessary, the sound of the slam resonating in the room like an echo of his own clumsiness, as if he were trying to highlight that he was there.

Adjusting the strap of his backpack nervously, Scaramouche hurriedly turned and rushed out of the room, feeling the weight of embarrassment bubbling in his stomach.

Why did he feel so ashamed for being caught in the music club? He wondered as he hurried down the stairs to the school's ground floor. He internally scolded himself for his exaggerated reaction, but still couldn't help feeling uncomfortable.

He didn't want to face the violin boy's gaze again, nor the awkward feeling of being caught in a moment of vulnerability.

As he distanced himself from the music club, Scaramouche promised himself not to go back in there, determined to avoid any situation that might involve seeing that boy again, even though he had never met him.

However, the image of the boy with the violin and his surprised gaze remained etched in his mind, leaving a lasting impression amid his confusion and discomfort.

He tried to calm the racing beats of his heart and rationalize his exaggerated response.

Why did he care so much about what that violin-playing boy thought? Why did he allow a simple glance to make him feel so vulnerable? Scaramouche felt frustrated with himself for letting the opinion of someone he didn't even know affect his mood.

But it would be alright, because he probably wouldn't see that violin boy again, right?

I had been peacefully practicing in the music club, immersed in the melodies flowing from my violin as I tried to recreate the song I was reading from the sheet music, alone in the room. Then, at one moment, a boy with short, vibrant indigo hair entered.

At first, I barely noticed his presence, but then I felt a gaze upon me and immediately halted my performance, lifting my head.

Our eyes met, and I caught a glimpse of his purple eyes. I watched as the boy's cheeks flushed with a soft blush, likely embarrassed for interrupting my practice. I observed in silence as he retreated out of the room, closing the door with a resounding slam that echoed in the chamber.

I stood there, bewildered by the sudden interaction. How should I feel about it? I had no idea. He was just a stranger who had entered and exited my space without explanation.

I shook my head, trying to push those thoughts from my mind, and attempted to resume my practice, but I couldn't focus after that event.

So, I sighed, deciding to call it a day with my practice.I set my violin aside to hold its case and carefully stored the instrument, feeling somewhat pensive about the encounter with that stranger.

Perhaps I would never know who the boy with the indigo hair was, but for now, I decided to set the incident aside. After all, I'd probably never see him again.

#amab reader #amab!reader #male reader x scaramouche #scaramouche x male reader #Scaramouche x amab reader #scaramouche #fluff #amab!reader!violist #fanfic #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact #scaramouche genshin impact #genshin headcanons #scaramouche headcanons #scaramouche au #genshin impact au

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buromarks · 1 year

Photo

https://www.instagram.com/p/Cl6a422Nte3

#poster #green #fluorescent

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ceruleancattail · 3 months

Text

Tough Guy

Nightfall au

Tattooist reader x Epel Flemier

A tattooist who works in the wee hours of the night. It’s unfortunate, but it’s what you’re known for. A hot cup clutched in your hand, you take a slow, cautious sip, watching the road. Eyes following the grey blurs of vehicles, rushing back and forth. There’s something poetic about how alive the city seemed, even in pitch-black darkness.

You run an old place down on the road, posters of past designs peeling off, edges yellowed from the march of time. The ancient clock nailed into the wall ticking by every second. A incessant sound, but you’ve grown used to it.

Fluorescent lighting lined the corners of the room, rays of violet and indigo waxing and waning, intermixing into each other. The lighting bathed the entire place, illuminating everything it touched with an eerie, mysterious glow.

Somehow it blended well, with your latest client’s hair.

A mop of unruly purple, curls spilling off the scalp of his head. It framed his face perfectly, emphasising its roundness. A cherub’s perfect face, with the rosy cheeks to match.

He sat with his legs open, blazer draped over his shoulders. Within the folds of cloth, you catch a glimpse of a strip of leather, buckled across his chest. A holster. You could make out faint hints of a bulge, protruding from his blazer.

You’ll wager your dominant hand that it was a gun. Well, ain’t nobody dumb enough to walk around this strip of street unharmed. Guess even cherubs have to fight like dogs here.

Your gaze flickered down to the screen by your side. Idly scrolling upwards until your eyes rest on a string of text, marked with today’s date. Eyebrow raised ever so slightly, you mutter:

“Epel… Felmier?”

“Yeah. What’s it to you?”

Your client responds, his voice, an octave lower with the unmistakable quaver of someone trying to act tough. Choking back a laugh, you tried your best to stifle it behind a cough. That gruff undertone… perhaps trying to imitate someone?

Well, you understand the need to. It’s a tough, living on this earth. If you ain’t tough, you’re not going to be enough. Especially in this city. It’s a dog eat dog world, if you’ll be damned if no one quavers from your bark.

Pushing back your chair, you settle yourself down opposite him. Making sure to keep a placid smile stuck firmly on your lips. Eyes flickering back up at those violet irises, you give him a nod of acknowledgement.

“You’re here for a tattoo, are you not?”

With a flick of your wrist, you slide your tablet across the table. Epel catches it with both hands, fingers scrambling for purchase on its slippery surface. One by one, images of various designs appear on the screen, bathing Epel’s face in white light.

Designs of dragons, leaping out of the screen. Roses, sprouting from gashes in skin. Curling tendrils of flame, forked tongues flickering through the canvas. For a moment, he sat in silence, seemingly spellbound by those delicate strokes running through the page.

He looks up at you, a new admiration sparking to life in his eyes:

“You… drew these?”

You blink in surprise, before a chuckle bubbles out of your throat:

“Yeah,” you drawl, mimicking his ‘tough guy’ introduction, “what’s it to you?”

Epel’s lower lips juts out ever so slightly, before his cheeks colour. A pale pink, that stood out ever so brightly on that cherub face of his. Pouting.

You laugh, a breathy sound.

“Relax. There’s no need to act tough in here.“

Reaching to your side, you pick up a needle. Jabbing it lightly in the air, you point it at Epel playfully. He jolts back in surprise, blinking rapidly.

“I’ve seen executives cry their eyes because of this baby. Trust me, I won’t tell.”

Drawing a thumb across your throat, you shoot him a wink.

“Cause’ if I did, it’ll be the last thing I’ll ever say.”

That got a chuckle out of him, the tension leaving his shoulders. Leaning forward, Epel’s eyes shone in rapt attention, skimming through your artwork. You could see his hands move, fingers tracing over every line in your designs. Carefully following those inked lines, sliding across your screen.

“The big boss told me that tattoos were ‘a thing of beauty’ and that I should think it through before I went and got one,” Epel sighs, before setting your tablet down.

“I just wanted to look a little more manlier. Ain’t nobody wanna’ mess with a dude with inked up arms, yeah?”

Epel glances up at you sheepishly.

“But looking at these now… you’ve really put in a lot of time into these. It feels like… looking at pictures in some fancy art museum…. I suppose the big boss was right about tattoos being… well… beautiful.

I guess I’ve never really looked close enough to recognise that.”

A warmth spread through your cheeks, rampaging like wildfire. Raising a fist you coughed harshly into it, trying to conceal your embarrassment. It’s not everyday someone takes in account the effort you pour into every last design.

“Urm. Thank you. It’s kind of weird, having someone praise my work like that-“

“Why is it weird?”

His hand reaches for yours, squeezing it within his. You felt a heat surge through your palms, his pulse beating against yours. Callouses on those fingers, rough against your skin.

Yet it wasn’t an unwelcome touch, by any means.

“You’re amazing.”

A pause, before Epel drops your hands back down onto the table, flailing about wildly. The pale pink of his cheeks now blooming a scarlet red.

“I… I mean your drawings! Yeah! They’re amazing!”

Watching him panic, you couldn’t bring yourself to laugh at his plight. Settling for a soft chuckle, you reach for his hands once more, clasping them within yours.

“Thank you. Truly.”

You glance at the tablet screen again, before shooting Epel a smile. A genuine one, this time. Hesitantly, Epel returns the smile with one of his own. A boyish, crooked grin, oozing with mischief. It didn’t quite match up with the picture perfect cherub he looked like, but you couldn’t think of a smile that fitted him more.

“I… I won’t get a tattoo today. I’m going to think about it some more.”

Shooting upwards, Epel dashes to the door, shouting boisterously all the way:

“Ya just wait! I’m going to come up with a killer tattoo idea, and it’s going to be the best design you’ll ever draw!”

Just before he reaches the exit, Epel glances back awkwardly, staring at you with a certain softness in his gaze.

“I’ll be back, so just… wait for me, ok?”

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #Epel #Epel x reader #Epel felmier #Epel felmier x reader #nightfall au #mafia au #tattooist reader #lucky potion🔷#I WANTED TO WRITE SOMETHING SOFT OK

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purplehairedheretic · 6 months

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does anyone else remember the whole "heaven has 3 tiers" thing from the LDS church theology (?) ????? I was thinking about it recently and it only just now struck me how Odd it is. It's like that one odd piece of church lore that even the general authorities don't like to acknowledge exists or something. They only really talk about the "celestial kingdom" but basically use that as a synonym for heaven as a whole. but I saw a seminary poster thing that was talking about it and it's just so ??? odd????? to me?????? like I think I remember being told that there wasn't a hell in Mormonism (like by my parents and Sunday school teachers) ? And I remember my Sunday school teacher asking me if I'd rather have the light of the stars, moon, and sun, and as like a 10 yo I was like "honestly id prefer the moon bc it's not too bright or too dark" (visual sensory issues + hating fluorescent lights coming into play there lol) and the teacher being kind of annoyed with me 😭😭😭 The tier is like:

telestial kingdom: you only get the light of the stars. This is for like actually bad people I guess? Everyone is sad and waiting for Jesus to show up but he doesn't go there I think.

Terrestrial kingdom: Jesus goes here but not god lol! you only get the light of the moon. I think this one is for people who like didn't get baptized or something ???

celestial kingdom: for all the top tier VIP church members I guess. God AND Jesus go here woohoo! the light of the sun and stuff.

Mormon theology is just. so weird man. Like why is Heaven tiered???? it's like one of those donation/Patreon things where the more you donate the more stuff you get or something.

#Exmo #exMormon #Ex Christian #vinny talks about religion things #Exmo thoughts

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klanced · 5 months

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i just finally watched the batman (2022) and need a repository for my thoughts

anyway yes i know i am the voltron blog but you all must understand. and this is key to my lore. that i am an insane batman fan. i haven't kept up with comics in recent years but i am a total sleeper agent when it comes to batman and i've been waiting literal months to watch The Batman (2022) and i finally watched it last night and have been marinating in my thoughts since. and also my parents are tired of hearing my ranting and watching me walk around in circles.

ANYWAY.

cinematography

this is literally the best looking batman film in years, if not the best looking one ever. the color grading was like a balm to my eyes, especially after the slog fest that is some of the other superhero movies... even with the constant rain the city never looked washed out, reeves and his set designers made such awesome choices when it came to fluorescent and neon lighting... the DINER SCENE!!!!!!!!!!! also omfg the way they made battinson the Red and Black Batman like what an excellent color combination. i loved it. i need to buy some of the theatrical release posters post HASTE.

more than anything this movie was SHOT like a comic book and so many scenes looked like they were ripped straight from a comic book, like i could visualize the paneling and everything... so freaking baller.

my family wasn't super impressed but i think it's because they expected an action movie but No You Don't Get It. batman sees the world as a gritty detective noir movie but to everyone else in gotham they're living in a horror movie and that is BATMAN CINEMA!!!!

when the riddler was arrested i was like 'wait there's still 40 minutes?' and then i preceded to have my mind completely blown. i kept questioning what reeves was doing only for him to IMMEDIATELY correct me minutes later. literally, let this man cook he knows what he's doing. when bruce lit the flare i didn't immediately get it -- and then the little mayor's boy reached for batman without any hesitation. and then the crowd began to follow him, closing the distance. and then he began to lead them to higher crowd. And Then I Got It.

2. gotham

yes i'm devoting an entire section just to the city.

gotham city is one of the hardest things to get right in any kind of batman media. like gotham is Not Normal and that should always be something hovering in the background. but many directors just don't bother because gotham architecture is so fundamentally different from normal sensibilities that building lore accurate sets would be both incredibly costly and almost impossible to do. but matt reeves tried and the movie was so unbelievably better for it.

bvs gotham was basically just new york city and don't even get me STARTED on how futuristic minimalistic modern the nolan movies were. ugh.

but when bruce and alfred were in their penthouse suite surrounded by fifty layers of gothic style trim my dad verbally said 'are they in a fucking church or something' and like YES DAD! that's the POINT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! gotham is supposed to be borderline CAMPY GOTHIC like the city itself is not just a setting, it's a full blown supporting character. the city looking batshit is essential lore and PIVITOL to the world building that has produced a man dressed up as a bat to fight crime like you DON'T GET IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! batman is divorced from our reality but he is GROUNDED IN GOTHAM!!!!

actually side note i've been playing gotham knights on the PC and 1) the game is way better than critics gave it credit for and 2) GOTHAM LOOKS SO GOOD IN THIS GAME. THE LIGHTING IS CRAZYYYY. best adaptation of gotham city fr, i loved the arkham video game series but the panache. the style. it became so diluted after arkham asylum fr.

my one criticism is that reeves needed to make one more rooftop set it was so silly that all the characters kept returning to the same gcpd roof with the bat signal on it.

3. plot

FINALLY A MOVIE WHERE BRUCE IS A DETECTIVE. i've waited literal years for this. i do wish batman had been a little bit more active/proactive in the plot, i.e. not strictly following with riddler's games, but this is also early batman so i'm more forgiving of his rookie mistakes... however in the second movie i expect him to be on his BALL GAME!!!! give me plot-armor-borderline-prescient batman PLEASE MR. REEVES I BEG OF THEE.

LOVED this adaptation of the riddler. using the zodiac killer as an inspiration for the riddler was amazing, brilliant, showstopping, spectacular. and they kept a little bit of camp in paul dano's performance which i appreciate. i don't think we'll ever go back to batman forever levels of camp, but that's okay </3

there was a nod to the character of hush in the movie (at least that's how i'm choosing to interpret it) but i don't think they could ever use hush in the future because they already adapted so much of his gimmick for the riddler... but that's okay tbh i don't think hush is that interesting anyway.

at its core the batman was a buddy cop movie and i LOVED that. jeffrey wright KILLED it as lieutenant gordon and the dynamic between batman and gordon was amazing. excellent usage of our favorite future-commissioner, you could really see they already had an established rapport but their bond was becoming even stronger... their conversation in the interrogation room was so amazing, as well as their scene with the penguin.

my one criticism is that alfred became non-existent after a certain point. also lowkey the lego batman movie did a better job at the 'bruce realizes that his trauma has made him reluctant to form bonds or deepen them because of his fear of losing anyone else' subplot. lego batman movie on top!

4. characterizations

everyone and their mom has already talked about how this version of bruce wayne is more focused on developing his identity as the batman versus his identity as brucie wayne so i won't repeat those essays. but i will say that i have such high hopes for bruce's development in the sequel. like the way the movie ended with him emphasizing how he needs to become a 'symbol of hope for the city' reads to me as him preparing to finally re-enter gotham society as Billionaire Bruce Wayne and i am SO READY FOR IT.

but what i actually want to talk about is how amazing catwoman's development is. i love how much backstory they gave her in this movie. i will always love the nolanverse version of catwoman but you really learn almost nothing about selina in TDKR. but in the batman selina's is this fully fleshed out character. you can immediately guess what her life has been like. and her motivations in the story... the way she was prepared to run until she found annika... and then she immediately changed gears and focused on vengeance for annika and her mother... god, i love it.

cobblepot's character was also so, so good. you can intimately tell that he's a two-faced bastard who's spent years being a yes-man purely so he can climb the social ladder. i know colin farrell is going to rock the HELL out of that monocle in the sequel.

5. hopes for the future

i know it's too late but i reallyyy don't want joker to be in the sequel. i unfortunately think that's more or less guaranteed though since they've already casted barry keoghan. and his performance was really good. i'm just tired of seeing the joker in batman media. (inb4 keoghan absolutely kills it in the sequel and makes me eat my hat). i don't really consider batman to have one arch nemesis, only that the joker has consistently ruined batman's life more often than all the other villains.

literally the one hill i will die on is that reeves NEEDS to include robin at some point. PLEASE. you can't have batman without a robin, he gets so lonely. literally that's all i want. i want battinson to become a dad so, so bad. you have no idea.

and (and this is key) robin must be a kid. a pre-teen aged 14 or younger. "oh but that's so unrealistic, child superheroes totally break the immersion" well I DON'T CARE. FULL THROTTLE ON THE CHILD ENDANGERMENT. let children fight crime, for the culture.

[okay, okay. make it a robin origin story where dick grayson is introduced and is plot-relevant but he doesn't actively patrol and fight crime and only becomes robin at the very end.]

introduce robin in batman 2, and then have robin be a participating older teen/adult in batman 3.

my incredibly indulgent ideal batman 2:

at least two years have passed (bruce is more or less settled and has finally hit his stride). he has mastered air gliding and now attacks villains from the rafters instead of just constantly walking out of the shadows. i want to see arkham-level combat So Bad.

selina is mentioned, but doesn't really appear (and there are no other love interests.

actually wait i change my mind about joker. joker can be included in the movie IF the red herring "main plot" is that he's using a circus as a base of operations (because clowns and circuses).

i say red herring "main plot" because the movie starts with a joker crime spree, so you think the movie is going to be all about the joker, but then he leads batman to his circus base and it turns out that PSYCH! THIS IS ACTUALLY A DICK GRAYSON ORIGIN STORY. because joker's base of operations is haly's circus.

batman is snooping around looking for evidence and that's when he comes across dick grayson, age 10.

kid dick grayson. PLEASE. PLEASE.

batman decides to visit the circus as bruce wayne. You Know What happens.

plot plot plot

COURT OF OWLS SUBPLOT.

bruce has to balance hunting down the joker while also protecting this little kid he pretends he isn't totally attached to.

this is incredibly indulgent because i have no idea how you would balance joker screentime with that of the court of owls. idk. that's what's fanfiction is for i guess c:

i have decided that over winter break i am going to rewatch all the batman movies from 1980s onwards so i can revise my Batman Cinema power rankings. i will create some kind of metric or spreadsheet so i can grade and quantify each movie.

hell i should also replay all my favorite batman video games. because those are basically just movies anyway. and i miss kevin conroy :(

thanks for reading. god i love batman.

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trancylovecraft · 9 days

Text

(AOEX) The Blood Of An Unwilling Covenant

PART 2 OF 8: Amaimon

(Yandere Platonic Demon Kings (Ba'al) x Reader)

SERIES SUMMARY:

BARISTA'S NOTE: heres amaimons part!! :D GENDER: Femme FANDOM: Blue Exorcist

☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★

LAST PART ,AO3 LINK, SERIES MASTERLIST, NEXT PART

"[F/N], If you could just think about it for a second.." The counsellor said, Resetting the devil-horn glasses upon her face.

The hum of the fluorescent lights above her droned into [F/N]'s ear like a cicada, The equally annoying rotations of the fan not doing much to soothe her headache either. It wasn't just the noise too but also the uncomfortably designed office chair that she lazed on, Digging into her back.

She was sat within the office of the youth centre's counsellor's office. A room with cool grey walls decorated with motivational posters with smiling faces and overly-positive quotes, Sunlight shining through the shutters onto the polished wooden floorings being the only lighting in here.

The counsellor herself was a rather dim looking woman with dark hair tied into a tidy bun, One that was as clean cut as the tailored grey suit she wore. Her posture straightened and perfect, Green eyes staring at her from behind the red rims of her pointed glasses.

A caring woman, One that meant the best at heart. Not in it for the money but certainly from a place of love and meaning. Though that didn't much to lighten [F/N]'s mood.

She sat lying upon the uncomfortable build of the chair, Much older than she was back then with her legs spread out and her arms folded in. She was sunken into her chair, Like she had just woken up from a nap upon it. Yet her eyes were wide open and rolled at the woman's words.

"I don't want to, No way." [F/N] huffed as she kicked her feet lightly at the desk of the counsellor. Whose red lipstick turned down into a frown as she sat in her office chair, Clicking her pen.

"There are families out there who want to adopt you, [F/N]. This couple seems to be a really good pick, High income and already have children of their own. They're interested in taking you in, Dear." The counsellor said, Sliding over a pamphlet towards [F/N].

[F/N] picked it up but she barely looked at it, Running her eyes over the information put down before huffing and pushing it back down.

"Yeah they seem lovely. But I don't care, I don't want to be adopted. I've got stuff to do here and it said there that they live all the way in Nagano." [F/N] explained, Almost exasperated as if it was the thousandth time she'd explained it. Tossing her head to the side and folding her arms once more.

The counsellor sighed, Looking down towards the top of her desk.

"[F/N].. I understand how you feel. Tetsuya's death was hard on all of us, But you need to understand that it was a wil-"

"IT WASN'T A WILD ANIMAL!" [F/N] slammed her fists down onto the table, Finally leaning up from her chair and staring daggers into the startled counsellor.

It stood for what seemed like minutes, Eyes connected to each other. The fire burning in [F/N]'s eyes however shook when she suddenly sighed, Then slumped over back into her chair.

The counsellor gulped, Making sure her glasses were in place before speaking once more.

"..I apologise, I shouldn't of brought it up.." She started, Shaking her head. "But I worry about you, [F/N]. You keep going out into those woods and barely spend any time here anymore, Not to mention your ramblings to your peers.."

[F/N] tossed her head to the side in a rather juvenile display, Her nose scrunched up in disgust at what she said.

"No one ever believes me.. It wasn't a wild animal.. It just wasn't. You seen the autopsy, You can't say that it was some starving bear!" [F/N] exclaimed, Raising her arms into the air before flopping them back down to emphasise her point.

"There isn't any other explanation for it. Those woods do tend to be bursting with all sorts of animals and besides, What else could it be?" The counsellor said, Brushing off the shoulder-pads.

[F/N]'s face hardened, A solemn look washing across her face as she leaned over on her chair. Eyes dead-set on the eyes of the woman opposite of her as she spoke.

"A demon. A demon killed Tetsuya." She whispered as quiet as the morning wind. Her eyes furious and determined, A kind of fire burning through them as her stone-cold face mumbled those words.

The counsellor sighed, Nodding as if she had heard those words a thousand times before. She shuffled as few papers on her desk, Aligning them well before setting them beside her in finality.

"..There is no such thing as demons, [F/N]." She spoke quietly. "What you saw out there was traumatising, Yes.. But blaming it on some imaginary creatures won't do you any good." The counsellor said, Seeming to put a firmer foot down as she leaned over to meet [F/N] face to face.

[F/N]'s jaw clenched shut, Leaning back over into her chair with a rigid back. Her clenched fists shook, Trying her best not to act on what she was so tempted to do.

She mumbled something under her breath. The counsellor blinked, Leaning forward.

"What was that?" She asked, Tilting her head.

"DEMONS EXIST AND THEY KILLED TETSUYA! WHY WON'T ANYONE BELIEVE ME?!" [F/N] screamed suddenly, Jerking up from her seat and snapping at the woman's face. The counsellor yelped, Jolting back into her office chair.

[F/N] got up from her chair, Not even bothering to look at the startled woman as she slung her bag over her shoulder and started to storm out of the room. An angry march as the counsellor recomposed herself.

"[F/N]! Where are you going..?!" She called out, Watching as the girl didn't even falter as she walked off towards the door. [F/N] didn't turn back to face her, Only gripped the fake gold of the door handle.

"I'm getting out of here, Can't breathe clear in this stupid place.." She hissed lowly before yanking the door open and marching out of the counsellors office. Door slamming shut with a thump.

And then, She was alone.

[F/N] stood dead within the empty hall, After storming out and slamming the door she didn't really have a destination to go to. So she stayed put, Looking at the sunlight pouring in through the windows lining the long hall, Almost appreciating it.

She couldn't go back to her room, That was a pigsty. It was always infested with insects crawling about and no matter how much bug spray she used, They never seemed to leave her in peace. So that was a no go.

The playrooms, The little library, The kitchens or the TV room where she spent countless days in front of the screens. None of them seemed appealing anymore. What use to be the apple in Eden was nothing but a rotting core now, So disgusting and unappetizing.

It was suppose to be a leisure, A relaxation.

But it never was anymore, It just couldn't be.

Not without Tetsuya.

[F/N] clicked her tongue, Sighing a short breath. The air here was too stuffy, Too suffocating to be called oxygen. She needed to go somewhere that's fresher, Somewhere she could properly think.

So her legs drove her forward. Through the long winding corridors, Past all the colourful fliers pinned up on the corkboard, All the doors with pleasantries and laughing hiding behind them were discarded in favour of the reception.

The dreary old woman sitting at the desk didn't even look up from her trashy magazine as [F/N] stormed by, Not even bothering to take a glance at who was leaving through the double glass doors. The little bell chiming above not helping her case.

As soon as she was out, [F/N] was hit with the brisk brush of the air against her skin. Her hair lifting lightly at the sensation as she was met with the mid-day sun, The celestial body shining down at her so happily from it's cobalt throne.

[F/N] couldn't feel the same as her shoes tapped against the stone tiles leading up to the youth centre doors. There wasn't anyone else about apart from the insects crawling about in the bushes or the tiles lining the centre's perimeter.

She reached the point where the stone tiles met the bare pavement, Splitting off into three streams. Though instead of travelling down one she made her way to the rickety old bench lining one of the pavements, Plopping down with the wood creaking at her weight.

"Finally.." [F/N] mumbled to herself as she was finally blessed with the fresh atmosphere. A relief as she took in the invigorating air, A moment of solitude rarely found in her everyday life and one she wanted to take in for a moment.

It was quiet too, This street wasn't as busy since it wasn't as close to the city centre. Few cars passed by to cause any noise, The only sound coming from the fenced off park parallel from the youth centre, The sound of children laughing playing basketball her only white noise.

That was good, There wasn't anyone about to see her next act.

[F/N] hummed as she shoved her hand in her side bag, Fishing around the abundance of objects stored inside before she felt the soft touch of a pretty pink pouch grace her fingers. [F/N] smiled, Pulling it out.

"Better have some left.." [F/N] muttered, And she thought she did. As she unlaced the string that opened the pouch she was met with the face of several cigarettes, A stolen item she had snuck from one of the staff's lockers.

All of them were coloured differently, Rolled in vivid paper.

Watermelon, Grape, Candy Floss and Bubble-gum were only a few of their flavours. They were cool, That's what she thought anyways. Even though she didn't watch TV that much anymore, All the super-cool adults on there always had one of these hanging from their mouth.

Well, Not the flavoured ones like she had. But she didn't like the taste of tobacco, So the taste of sugar and sweetness would have to do.

"Three.. Two.. One.." [F/N] counted down, The cold lighter on her other hand sparking up with a rasping ember. The cigarette in her other, A favoured watermelon flavour, Blitzed up at the end.

With two fingers she placed it in her mouth, Careful to make sure she got the right end this time. Sweet smell of smoke drifting up in the air, She watched it rise from the burning end and as she breathed it back in.

Tetsuya. No one would ever believe her about what happened to him, No one. From the police officers and paramedic's that were present that day, They had all written it off as just some little kids ramblings.

The counsellors, The psychiatrists and the priests. All of them, Every single one had done the same. But [F/N] knew better, [F/N] knew what she had saw that day, She knew that it wasn't something of her world that done it to him.

But it was only her. [F/N]'s lips parted from the cigarette for only a second, Blowing out the sugared smoke from her throat. She'd never be able to convince anyone of the existence of demons, Not without evidence, That is.

She tossed the cigarette onto the pavement. Her sneakers raising then stomping down on the sugar-stick, Mushing out the flame on the stone to nothing but dying smoke.

[F/N] would find evidence, She'd make sure of it. She'd find who killed Tetsuya even if it meant she had to follow him to the next life, She would know the culprit.

Her hand absentmindedly wandered down to the open pouch, The candy coloured silk splayed open on the bench as she searched for the candy scented cigars.

But her hand didn't connect with the bristle of cigarette paper or the shroves of tobacco that should've been there. Her eyes widened for a second, Her head jerking round to meet the open pouch.

It was empty, Completely and utterly empty.

"What the.." [F/N]'s jaw dropped. There had been at least a dozen cigarettes laying atop the paper, All of them had been there since she sat down. She had made sure of it, So why were they missing?

Could she have knocked them over on accident? [F/N] leaned back to look at the muddy grass below the timbered bench, She came up with nothing but worms and weeds growing underneath.

Her hands slapped the pockets of her sweater, Feeling around to see if she misplaced them yet she came up empty. Where could they have gone? To the sides of the bench, On the pavement or perhaps she was sitting on them?

No, Even as she felt underneath her she felt no trace of those sweet little cigarettes.

It was only once she was shifting through the contents of her bag did she find a clue, One that seemed just under her nose.

Or above it in this case. [F/N] suddenly felt the bursting itch of the tiniest particles hitting the bridge of her nose. [F/N] jolted, The sensation amplified by the fact she didn't expect it in the slightest.

She stopped searching through her bag for just a moment, Hand jerking to her nose and rubbing at the irritating itch. But when she brought her hand back, Her eyes narrowed in on the small speck of her hand.

It was a shrove of tobacco.

[F/N] stared at it for a solid moment, Eyes locked in on the target. It seemed like it had came down from the heavens themselves, Like it had just floated down like snowfall on a December morning.

Then another, [F/N]'s eyes darted up to another shrove of tobacco floating down right in front of her vision. Another and another, It seemed to grow in numbers as every second passed by.

"What the hell is this.." [F/N] drawled out, Her hand extended to catch the snowflakes of cigar ash drifting down onto her palm. They were growing into a small bush, A small puddle of candy-smelling shroves coupled within her hands.

But where could they be coming from?

[F/N]'s head turned upwards, Neck craning to get a good look up at the sapphire sky above her. Blinking once she was only met with the wisping clouds floating about the atmosphere, Sun shining down at her.

But her eyes caught onto something else, Something metallic.

It was the streetlamp, One of the dozens lining the concrete pavement for miles but the only one that was standing above her. Still daytime it was off, But the streetlamp wasn't what she was focusing on.

Instead it was the boy hanging from it.

[F/N] jolted at the sight of him, Near falling off the bench as she realised his presence.

The boy was older than her, In his teen years and not in his tween's like [F/N] was. He was hunched over with horrid posture, Panda pouches under his golden eyes to match hers. He was strangely dressed too, A torn-at-the-tail overcoat drooping down from where he hung.

He was hanging like a bat from a cave spike, Legs locked around the branch of the streetlamp so loosely that he could fall at any moment. It was a wonder how he was still hanging on, But [F/N] was more interested in what he was doing.

His mouth was stuffed to the brim like a hamster, His hands grabbing clutches of tobacco and mashing it into his mouth. [F/N] stood there befuddled as she finally saw the clump of coloured cigar paper stuffed in his jacket pocket.

[F/N] gawked, Absolutely stunned.

"This candy sure is weird." The boy said to himself with a blank face, Seemingly not noticing [F/N] standing beneath him in shock. He shovelled another bush into his mouth, Watermelon flavoured to match the swamp green of his hair.

[F/N] gulped.

"How the.. W-Who the hell are you?! Why're you taking my bloody cigarettes?!" [F/N] exclaimed. It was the only thing she could think to say at the moment, Words flowing out of her mouth without a single thought behind them.

But it was the only thing she could say as the boy's sickly yellow eyes darted over to her, Seeming to finally notice her presence.

[F/N] couldn't help but shiver, For some reason feeling disturbed. Like a lion eyeing the lamb grazing in the field.

"Oh. They're mine now, They were laying out so I took them." He stated through a mouthful of her tobacco. An empty expression as he stared down at her, No regard for the fact that he had stolen her cigarettes.

Well they were stolen by her in the first place, But the sheer disregard of guilt for what he had did just made [F/N] all the more angry. Who did this guy think he is? Whoever he was he was weird as hell.

Hanging from the streetlamp? Chewing her tobacco? Not to mention that weird spike sitting atop his head, That to his toes he was dressed so strangely as if he had tossed on anything given to him without regard to colour or weather.

[F/N] gritted her teeth, What a nutjob.

"What kind of philosophy gets you to think that?! Give them back, You bastard!" [F/N] snapped at him with the best face pre-teen her could pull. Teeth wide and bared, Arms crossed in frustration.

The boy just hung there, Not reacting to what she said though he did stop chewing momentarily. Then he shrugged, The cigarettes he was clutching in his hand let go, Making them fall down onto the pavement which [F/N] scrambled to pick up.

"Whatever. They taste disgusting so you can have them." The boy said, Watching her as she fell to her knees collecting her fallen cigarettes with apathy. [F/N] grabbed the last of them, Shoving them into her bag with a furious scowl as she looked back at him.

"What the hell is wrong with you?! I barely have any tobacco left cause you chewed it all! What are you even doing up there, You prick!" [F/N] bit as she held the leftovers of whatever little snuff she had left in her palms.

The boy rolled his eyes. And in a move [F/N] didn't expect she watched him pull back, All before the legs locked around the streetlamp branch let go making him fall towards the ground.

[F/N] yelped, Stumbling back. The boy's feet slammed against the concrete pavement, His elvish shoes clacking against the side as he stood up to his full height with no apparent damage at all.

She stumbled back, Blinking as if to see if it was a hallucination or not with an open maw.

How the hell could he have dropped from the streetlamp to the pavement without any damage? The boy stood there, He was older than her and in his teen years so whatever kind of parkour training he must've had was very impressive for his age.

But [F/N] bit back a shiver, Could a boy in his teens really pull that off?

"You humans are really weird, Your candy is nasty and you don't even know who you're talking to. Though I suppose you don't know any better." The boy shrugged as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his tattered coat.

[F/N] gawked. First he had hell of some acrobatic skills, The next he had some real annoying superiority complex. Who even gave him it in the first place? Didn't matter, Didn't stop [F/N] from balling up her fists either.

"First of all, This isn't candy. These are cigarettes you dum-"

"-If they aren't candy, Then why do they smell like candy?" The boy butted in rather rudely, Sleep deprived eyes burning into her own without any sense of remorse.

[F/N] groaned.

"Because these are flavoured, Idiot. You don't chew the tobacco, You roll it up and you smoke it for the flavour. Ever heard what a cigarette is?" [F/N] chided as she reached into her bag to present a cigarette to him sarcastically.

The boy blinked.

"No." He replied.

His response caught [F/N] off guard. It was so honestly spoken and genuine that she couldn't help but drop her shoulders and guard along with them. Did he seriously not know what a cigarette was..?

"Well.. Ehm.. It's kind of this thing that you roll up with the.. The tobacco-" [F/N] stumbled over her words, Not sure how to explain to someone older than her what a cigarette was "You know what? Let me show you."

The boy didn't have any time to react as the end of a cigarette was shoved into his mouth.

His eyes widened, Not registering how [F/N] had marched up to him and done it so bluntly to him. Him of all people! Were all humans really as rude as this one was? She was starting to get on his nerves.

"Okay, Now that you have it in your mouth you just light it up at the end. You good with smoking?" [F/N] prompted, Not knowing why she was doing this but asking anyways. The boy looked back at her, Before rolling his eyes and letting out an okay with the cigarette in his mouth.

"Good" [F/N] said, Pulling out the lighter from her sweater and holding it up to the end of the cigarette, One rolled in cherry pink paper and tasting like it looked. "Okay.. Three, Two, One.."

The lighter sparked up, A few faulty clicks before the burst of an ember lit up at the tip. It caught onto the cigarette rather quickly, The burn of the snuff starting to flicker and burst out into a flame of its own.

[F/N] moved the lighter away, Lowering it down to her side.

"Alright, Now purse your lips like you're whistling but suck it in instead. Make sure to support it!" [F/N] said, Her hand snapping up to hold the cigarette with two fingers as it near fell out of his mouth.

The boy huffed but ultimately did what she had said, Watching as his lips pursed like he was whistling then his lungs inflate. [F/N] let a small grin slip as she watched his face light up slightly, The light in her fingers lowering from his mouth.

"Good, Huh?" [F/N] asked as she watched his lungs shrink in his puffed out chest, The vaguely pink smoke erupting from his lips and drifting off into the midday air. Sizzling out in the brisk of the day.

He looked down at her, Apathy more of an aftertaste now as the light finally returned to his eyes in an interested glimmer.

"I want more, Give me more, Now." The boy demanded, Taking a determined step closer to her with a hand already stretched out. [F/N] huffed, Dropping the cigarette astringent with cherry into his open palm.

"Tasty, Right?" [F/N] commented as she walked back towards the bench, Plopping back onto the rickety wood and lazily crossing her legs. The boy raised the cigarette back up to his lips, Repeating her instructions to the t.

The boy blew out another burst of cherry scented smoke, Tongue licking his lips as it went.

"It tastes like cherries, I want more of it. Where can I get it?" The boy asked, Turning to her as she lazed around on the bench, Relaxing against the back. [F/N] shrugged, Shuffling a single hand around in her bag before fishing out another cancerette.

"I dunno, I didn't really buy these myself and I don't know where the adults get 'em. So.. You'll need to ask someone else" [F/N] replied as she pulled out the lighter and struck up another flame on her green apple cigar.

The boy only hummed, The spark on the cancerette burning out in finality. No more smoke being produced, Leaving it to only be tossed away on the concrete pavement beside him as he sauntered over to the bench's direction.

"What's your name anyways? Seems awkward not to know it." [F/N] asked, The words leaving her lips with the scented smoke following only moments after.

"I'm Amaimon, It's nice to meet you." He said with a shrug. Though his words were polite his visage still showed that same resting face, Deep eyebags and all as he crouched down beside the old bench. She huffed, What a strange name.

"Mine's [F/N], It's cool to meet you too." She replied as tossed him another cigarette from her bag, Amaimon catching it mid-air. Another flavour, Another one to light as he held it up his snuff to her lighter.

It flicked on and just like that it was back to silence once more. The rustle of the leaves in the tree's was all that could be heard, Along with the faraway laughter of the kids in the park and the occasional car that passed by.

[F/N]'s eyes couldn't help but wander over to the boy crouched down beside the bench. It was a weird position, Only held up by his tippy-toes as he smoked out the saccharine cigar. His own golden eyes targeting nowhere.

[F/N] looked away, The wind still dancing through her hair as they sat in a somewhat comfortable silence. He was odd, Odder than the other teenagers she had met. She wasn't even thirteen yet she wondered if he was as strange to her as others his age.

He seemed so. With such fashion and behaviour she'd certainly think as such.

"So, Why were you hanging from a streetlamp? How'd you even get up there anyways" [F/N] asked, Blowing out a puff of smoke as her lips finally spoke of the elephant in the room.

Amaimon looked up at her, Licking his lips as if to taste the smoke.

"It's fun, I like the wind. The air here in Assiah is much fresher than the air in Gehenna, I climbed up there with my claws." Amaimon said as if it made any sense at all. [F/N] raised a brow.

"Assiah? Gehenna? Claws..?" She queried.

"Yeah. I'm a demon." Amaimon replied as he crushed the finished cancerette within his fist, Tossing it away on the ground as he was unaware of the expression on the girl's face.

[F/N]'s cheeks were puffed up, Lips squeezed together and her nails digging into the edge of the bench. She snorted, A noise that made Amaimon's head jerk over to her, Watching as she tried to supress a laugh.

"Why are you making that face? What wa-"

"BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-" [F/N] let out a howl of laughter, One so loud that she near keeled over on the bench. Amaimon watched as her free hand clutched her chest, The biggest grin showing as tears started to water at her eyes.

Amaimon's dotted brows knitted together, The razors of his teeth starting to bare from his maw.

"You're laughing at me, Why.. Are you making fun of me?!" Amaimon snapped as his back arched up, Unseen clawed hands starting to dig into the concrete of the pavement as he watched her hysterical laughing fit.

[F/N]'s laughter died down into a giggle, Wiping away the tears from her eyes.

"No-! No.. I'm not making fun of you, It's just I understand now, You know-" [F/N] chortled as she pointed to all of him, Smiling as she watched him look at the rest of himself for whatever she could be pointing at.

"You must be one of those gothic people I use to see on the TV, The one's that call themselves demons." [F/N] said, Relaxing back into the bench as she tossed her used cigarette away.

Amaimon tilted a head.

"..What?" Amaimon asked.

"I don't wanna be offensive! You do you, Just.. They actually exist, You know?" [F/N] explained to him. Amaimon just looked back at her with a blank expression, Seemingly confused.

"..Yes, I am a demon. See? Look at my teeth, They're not like yours" Amaimon said as he raised a finger to pull back his lips, Baring his teeth to [F/N] as his face grew closer to hers.

[F/N] blinked. Apart from the obvious fact that he needed a tic-tac and a good floss, His teeth really weren't different from hers at all. The canines he was pointing to were just like hers, No deviation.

"Yeah, Right. I have those kinds of teeth too, Dude. Demons aren't even humanoid, They have claws and horns and are beast-like. You don't have those." [F/N] said, Looking at his overgrown and dirtied nails along with his swampish hair. No demonic traits to be found.

Amaimon closed his mouth, Eyes drooping back down to their original shape.

"Oh.. You can't see it, You don't have a temptaint." Amaimon said, Turning away back towards the road. Dropped shoulders and all as he went back to staring into nowhere whatsoever.

[F/N] shook her head.

"Whatever you say dude, Whatever makes you happy." [F/N] shrugged as she closed her eyes, Taking the sunlight into her skin. Feeling the air on the back of the neck, Her hoodie really didn't do it justice.

Back to uncomfortable silence it was, He had no response after hers as he went back to staring off into space. [F/N] breathed out with no cancerette in her mouth this time, Only the slight wisps of cold vapour leaving her mouth.

"Why are you still here anyways? Don't you have teens your own age to hang out with and not some random child you met in the street?" [F/N] asked to him.

Amaimon's eyes darted back up to hers, Seemingly now only noticing the age difference between each other. Especially the height.

"Other humans my vessel's age are all too weak to play with.. They're boring after only a minute." Amaimon answered, Though now turning fully over to [F/N] "But you're not currently boring, Even though I haven't played with you yet.."

[F/N] snorted slightly as she watched his expression trail off into something more interested, One of his overgrown fingernails entering his mouth to be chewed on.

"You're not too bad yourself, Amaimon. You're weird, I like that." [F/N] giggled as her hand managed to wander itself over to the top of his head, Her fingers weaving their way into the swamp green of his hair as she ruffled it mockingly.

Though he froze, Just as her fingertips touched his locks.

"Huh..?" Amaimon muttered as he finished chewing on his fingernail, Body rigid as if he didn't know what was happening. [F/N]'s grin shortened, Fingers leaving the strands of his hair.

"Oh.. Sorry, Should've asked.." [F/N] mumbled as her arm retracted to her side, Though it didn't stop the petrified stance Amaimon sat in. Still staring off into space with his eyes widening further and further every second.

THUMP!

There it was again.

THUMP!

And again, Some strange thumping inside of his chest.

His ribcage rattled in its place, Almost like it would burst out from his vessels flesh. His hand grasped at the right of it's chest, Teeth gritting at the strange sensation. One he had never felt in his entire existance.

"Amaimon..? You good..?"

He jolted up, Eyes snapping back into focus at her words.

"Do it again!" Amaimon ordered. Hand still grasping a cluster of his striped shirt, The thumping continued on. Cheeks heating up into a warm pink.

[F/N]'s lips turned into a frown. Her guard that was down before started to raise, Rebuilding itself into what it was before. This was still a stranger, She hadn't even known him an hour. What was she doing?

"Eh.. I think I should get going now.. I need to do-"

"Again! Now!" Amaimon cut in. Voice raising in a crescendo as he grew closer and closer to her on the bench, One she slid further back on to try get away. But his hands lunged out to her wrist, Entrapping her in place.

[F/N] yelped as his palms tugged her towards him.

"A-Are you insane?! I- Fine, Okay! Just let go!" [F/N] cried as she was near pulled off of the bench, Soles of her shoes digging into the pavement in an attempt to keep her stable.

Though his grip was let go. Amaimon pushed himself up on the bench, So close to her now that his burning breath was felt in the pores of her skin. She could see his too now as her hand went to massage her aching wrist.

"Do it!" Amaimon urged, An unspoken threat.

[F/N] gulped, Not hesitating to do as he said as she slipped her fingers in-between the folds of his hair. He was taller, Older than her. Athletic by how he hung from the streetlamp and the chill she got when looking into his eyes was all the convincing she needed to comply.

Amaimon shuddered, Face lowering down from hers as he felt the unsure ruffles of his hair. His head rested against the bench beside her, Feeling the frigid fir against his cheek. So cold but strangely warm and comforting.

[F/N] swallowed down what little saliva was in her dry mouth, Sweat starting to grow and infest her palms as she played with his hair.

She was terrified, Shaking as she did so. [F/N] needed to get out of here, This wasn't right. She had thought of herself so mature before, So adult and cool with the cigarettes she smoked on the daily.

But as she raked her fingers through his hair, She knew very well that she was still the little kid who cried not to follow her friend into the depths of the woods.

"How are you doing this..? Are you a demon? A witch..?" Amaimon mumbled, Near melting into the lumber of the bench. What he had figured out was his heart started to beat faster and faster, A machine churning out some.. Human feeling inside of him.

[F/N] sniffled slightly, She wished she never took those cigarettes in the first place.

"It doesn't matter.. This must be it, This must be what you humans talk about when you say you love your family. I've never understood it.. You humans are just animals. Not like us demon's but.." Amaimon trailed off, Turning his head to face hers.

"You're not like the other humans, You're different.." Amaimon muttered. Hand lunging out to grasp her wrist once more as her movements slowed down, Both in fear and terror as she yelped out. Staring into his eyes.

"You're fun." He whispered.

[F/N] felt the tears prickling in her eyes start to drip, Start to fall down her cheeks. He wasn't acting like this before, He wasn't so.. So terrifying. He was just a strange boy she smoked with!

But she needed to get away, She needed to tell someone-

But her train of thought was cut off by the biggest of grins spreading across his face, One that seemed so unnatural upon the apathetic usual of his face. It was contorted, So visceral that she could never look away.

[F/N] stared at it and the tears streaming down her face only grew.

"Let's go have fun! I wanna go play! Big brother told me to learn more about Japan and it's becoming boring, But having you around will be fun! Come on!" Amaimon urged, Starting to tug on her even harder. Pulling her off the bench as her behind hit the hard concrete pavement.

"L-LET ME GO!" [F/N] cried out.

"I'll introduce you to my Behemoth, He's my pet! Big brother also said that I couldn't bring him out with us on his business meeting, So you'll need to come with me now so I can show you to him." Amaimon tugged even harder, His strength herculean and pulling her along easily as he started to lug her upwards.

[F/N] wailed. Her free arms raising and flailing against Amaimon in a desperate attempt to escape, Feet kicking at his shins and her shrill voice calling out for anyone that could hear her.

But there was no one around, No one except her smiling assailant dragging her along with him.

Though his grin dropped slightly as he looked at her face.

"Why are you leaking from your eyes? You should be smiling right now." He asked, His noise pushing into her face to examine the foreign substance coming from her ducts. He blinked, Tilting his head to the side.

[F/N] cried out, Sniffling hard.

"I'M NOT SMILING CAUSE YOU'RE KIDNAPPING M-"

HONK!

The distinct sound of a car horn came barrelling down the street. The grip on her wrist was freed, Amaimon's hand letting it slip from his grasp.

[F/N] stumbled back, Near tripping over the bench before she fell back onto it. She whined out, Examining the redness of her wrist and the pain on her skin. No injury luckily, But was still stinging.

"Y-You bastard.. How can you.." [F/N] sniffled, Looking up at him. But he wasn't looking at her, Instead he was looking far off down the road with a surprised expression plastered on his face.

HONK!

[F/N]'s eyes expanded, Matching Amaimon's as her head snapped over to the roadside. The car horn was louder now and the tune of which it hummed was unmistakable. Her mouth went dry, There was no way.

But as the hot pink limo sped down the suburban streets, The sound of the chipper horn playing out once more, [F/N] realised she was in hot shit. That horn was famous across Japan, That car was famous.

It was Johann Faust V's car, The wealthy foreign socialite and the headmaster of True Cross Academy. He was renowned for both the school's rich reputation and the flair for his projects, Namely the biggest theme park in the country!

But how could he be here?! This was some middle-class part of town, He was known to reside in True Cross Town. The chances of him being here right now were slim to none, But not if..

"No way.. This is your brother?!" [F/N] gawked, Jumping up from the rigid bench to an even more rigid stance. Eyes glued to the limo slowing a few feet down from the pavement, Watching it like a hawk.

Amaimon only bit the fingernail in his mouth a little harder.

"I wasn't suppose to be out this long.. I was suppose to return but I got side-tracked.." Amaimon muttered to himself as the limo finally parked a bit away from where they stood, He turned to look at her.

"But Big Brother will understand when he sees you. He'll like you just like I do, I know he will. Then I can keep you. This fraternal feeling is nice, Isn't it nice for you too?" Amaimon asked, Ignoring the shaking of her body and the redness in her eyes.

[F/N] shook her head, Backing away.

"I.. I, Uhm.. I don't.." [F/N] trailed off, At a complete loss for words. "It is nice isn't it, Little sister? I'll go talk to Big brother and see if I can keep you, Stay put and I'll be back." Amaimon said, Turning and running towards the limo down the street. The window already rolled down as he skittered to a halt in front of it.

[F/N] gulped, Still shaking as she wiped away her tears.

Whatever the hell that was, [F/N] wasn't ready to stay around and find out as her hand pounced at the straps of her bag. She lugged it over her shoulder, Eyes never leaving Amaimon's turned back as she started to sprint away.

If he was associated with Johann Faust then she didn't want to be apart of it. She didn't want to deal with whatever lawsuit that could be put against her, Especially if Amaimon told him that they were smoking, She was lucky she shoved all the other cigarettes away in her bag.

But she ran past the youth centre doors, Passing without batting a single eye.

She didn't want them to find out she was living there, That would be easy for them to torch her out. So as she ran, Rubber burning off her soles she knew she had to hide out for a little while.

Somewhere in the plaza or the shopping streets, Somewhere with a lot of people. Just for a few hours while this all cools down, So the staff don't find out she stole any cigs or was communicating with Johann Faust's bizarre younger brother.

So she ran and she ran, Sprinting further down the streets. The youth centre got smaller and smaller behind her, The arguing speck of Amaimon and the limo became only more miniscule as she ran.

All of this just for a few hours, Just so this crazy dream would all be over.

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