#he thinks that in order to be a good person he has to be Useful too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gay-dorito-dust · 3 days

Note

I have been binging your work!

I don't know if this breaks your trauma rule or not, but (with the guys of your choosing as long as Ratio is there) how would the guys react to losing reader (they haven't confessed feelings yet) during a mission and thinking they died. Then, the reader reappears a week later bandaged up, but alive. Maybe spouts their confession first? ˘͈ᵕ˘͈

I adore your writing. Thank you!

This is way too fucking long, so be warned. It’s like I rammed 4 mini stories in one but got lost at some point cuz I left this ask to collect dust. Also thanks for enjoying my writing it’s much appreciated. :) 🦦🐿️

Sunday:

The moment he got news that you’ve been assumed dead in the aftermath of a dangerous mission, he looses composure really quickly.

Loosing Robin was one thing but loosing you on top of that was the straw that broke the camels back.

He originally doesn’t believe that you were gone, he refuses to as he practically tears his office to shreds in a fit of anger and grief before forcing himself to regain composure and clean up after his outburst. He needed to in order to keep up the illusion that he was the levelheaded leader The Family needed in these moments of chaos and mistrust.

Even if he himself was breaking down internally alongside everyone else, hellbent on finding the culprit for your death and punishing them so severely that they’d beg for death. He’d avenge you in anyway he could, even if it meant sending out the bloodhound family on a wild goose chase that only ends in dead ends, he would get you justice no matter how it may come.

His heart had died alongside you that day.

So when a week passes and he finally has you back in his arms, all the while being carful with your wounds as his eyes searched you over in a way you weren’t use to.

‘You’re alive.’ He breathes out in relief as he then begins to laugh and rest his head against yours, breathing you in deeply as he relishes in this long awaited moment. ‘Of course you’re alive.’ He mutters.

‘Sunday,’ you began but Sunday was quite to cut you off.

‘Do you know how I felt thinking you were dead? Driving myself insane to prove that you were still alive anyway I could as not to bear the idea of walking through this life without the one person I love so dearly.’ Sunday takes a brief pauses in his monologue, feeling out of breath after having put everything out into the open before continuing. ‘I thought my heart had stopped beating that day and now I have you bad in my arms.’ Sunday then chuckles darkly as he gripped you tighter. ‘I’ll ensure that I’d never have to revisit that part of my life ever again.’

‘Sunday-‘

‘Shhh.’ Sunday cuts you off once more, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he holds you close to his chest, rubbing your back soothingly. ‘Just know that what I do after this, I do out of my love for you.’ He says against your forehead before pressing another kiss there for good measure.

Jing yuan:

Loss wasn’t new to Jing Yuan.

He has experienced it in multiple forms throughout his life, but that didn’t made the news of your death any less painful for the General.

While his mind might’ve made peace with the fact that you were gone, his heart however did not as he would find himself in the places that you often vacated to in moments of stress, or to just be left alone for a while with your thoughts. So to no longer see you in any of those hidden spots -waiting for him to find you like you usually did- only worsened the grief he felt in his heart as he sat himself down and allowed the memories to pass over him in waves.

You were both so happy together and felt a sense of fulfilment that could only be achieved when you were within the other’s presence; A feeling that was uniquely yours and yours alone that could never be replicated, ever. For no one could ever come close to replacing you, nor the companionship you and he had for each other that many assumed would blossom into something more; Jing Yuan also shared the same sentiments as they did, but just as he built the courage to push that boundary between the two of you, you were taken from him before he could utter a single word.

So when a week passes and Jing Yuan found your battered and beaten form in one of your secret spots, back resting against a tree with your eyes closed.

‘Y/n?’ He called out and your eyes opened upon hearing his voice and looking at him with a weak smile. ‘Hey General, miss me?’ You said as you struggled to get up to your feet, only to stumble forward and into Jing Yuan’s chest as his strong yet gentle hands hold you in place.

‘More than you could ever hope to know.’ Jing yuan said as he focused on how you felt beneath his hands, warm and alive.

‘I’m sorry I kept you waiting.’ You muttered against his chest as his warmth made you realised just how tired you were from everything you’ve experienced this last week alone. ‘I never meant to keep you waiting in fear that you’d forget about me if I don’t stay in your life long enough.’ You admit and Jing Yuan instinctively presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, holding you protectively.

‘I could never forget about you my beloved.’ Jing Yuan reassured you as he looked you deep into your eyes. ‘You’ve managed to carve your place within my heart and soul, so much that there isn’t a day where you aren’t all I think about, regardless of whether or not your by my side or far away.’ He finished by pressing a gentle kiss to the gauze on your cheek, chuckling upon seeing your cute attempts of burrowing your face into his chest.

‘How long have you’ve been waiting to say this.’ You asked, thankful that he was the one to admit his feelings first, as you would’ve had a hard time articulating your words as fluidly as he could.

‘For a very long time.’ Jing Yuan replied with a small smile as he then proceeded to lift you into his arms, cuasing you to squeal in surprise, as he made sure to be carful of your wounds and began walking to the nearest medics to make sure your wounds weren’t going to be trouble later on.

Aventurine:

He didn’t know what to think when you were pronounced dead, all Aventurine could feel in that moment was an overwhelming numbness that encased him entirely.

The only light left in his life had been snuffed out, plummeting him into utter and total darkness he had once been well acquainted with until you came along, giving him a reason to keep looking forward despite everything.

You were no longer here to hold onto his left hand before he could even think of hiding it behind his back out of habit, you were no longer here to be his reason, his comfort, his safe place. You were taken away from him unfairly and once again Aventurine found himself asking the same question he has been asking himself for a long time; why everyone was born into this life just to die.

So when a week passes and Aventurine finds himself sat on a bench somewhere, still not dealing well then than he was the week of your assumed passing, lost in his own thoughts when someone took a seat next to him. Aventurine was just about ready to tell them to go away, when he saw just who was sitting next to him; you.

‘I know, I look like shit but you don’t have to look at me like that.’ You spoke upon feeling his eyes gaze upon the gauze on your cheek, then towards the array of bandages that littered the rest of your body.

‘I thought you died.’ He hissed, emotion was heavy in his voice as his eyes became bleary with unshed tears as he felt his breathing become heavy with the reality that you were alive. He didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t in that moment as his mind raced. And it wasn’t until you reached out to grasp his left hand and intertwine your fingers together, squeezing, did everything finally became clear to him.

‘I thought I was too at one point but there was something that kept me from journeying over to the afterlife.’ You admit, looking over at him and smiling sweetly, wanting nothing then to calm his thoughts and reassure him that this wasn’t a dream.

‘And what was that?’ He laughs humourlessly as he stares back at you, wanting to hear what excuses you could come up with for faking being dead for a week. ‘Willpower? Determination?’

‘You Kakavasha.’ You replied straightforwardly and his breath hitched in his throat. You rarely used his actual name unless it was absolutely serious. ‘You were all I thought about as I pushed through my injuries.’ You told him as you continued. ‘Kakavasha is waiting for me was just about all I could think about for a week straight.’ You finished as though you didn’t just confess that he was your soul motivator in staying alive.

‘Really?’ Aventurine said softly, finding it impossible that he could possibly be your reason for anything. ‘Why?’

‘Yes really.’ You chuckled, pressing a kiss to his cheek as you rested your head against his shoulder. ‘As for why, it’s because I like you more then did let myself admit, but i just wanted you to know incase anything truly bad were to ever happen to me-‘

‘No.’ Aventurine cut you off suddenly, squeezing your hand as though he were afraid. ‘Nothing is going to happen to you, not now. not ever. I just got you back.’ He adds resting his head against your own in a desperate attempt of feeling more of your against him. ‘Just stay with me…please.’ He begs you in a whisper as he nuzzled further into you. ‘and don’t go anywhere I can’t follow. I don’t think I can bear the thought of loosing you again.’

You smiled softly as you just whispered back against the skin of his neck. ‘As long as you don’t go anywhere I can’t follow. I like my crush to be alive and close by even if he can be a pain in my ass sometimes.’

Aventurine chuckles, his heart becoming whole again as he made you cuddle into his side, kissing your head once more as you took this moment to familiarise yourselves with each other. ‘At least I’m a pleasurable pain in the ass.’ He teased and you pinch his side, causing him to flinch, but his smile remained and this time his smile was genuine.

His light has came home.

Ratio:

Fully believed that he’d see you when the mission ended, knowing just how talented and dedicated to the craft you were, and having faith that this would be a measly walk in a park for you.

Only to receive word that you were one of the many who were assumed dead when you weren’t found amongst the living nor the dead.

Veritas tries to remain as levelheaded and logical as possible during this time and continue life as normal. However found himself retracting from everyone else and going none contact, more so specifically with the people you were once associated with, and instead focused heavily on his studies and academics to an unhealthy extent.

A week passes and Veritas feels as though he’s seen a ghost the moment he saw you in his peripheral vision, bandaged and dressed in ripped clothing but still somehow finding it in you to smile.

‘You idiotic Buffon!’ He exclaims as he walks towards you.

‘Well that’s a nice way to greet someone you care about.’ You replied as you readied yourself for a massive rant about how stupid you were and so on, but instead you were held against his chest as he burrows his head into your neck.

‘I thought you died.’ He says in a whisper as he breathed you in. This went against all logic but in that rare moment Veritas didn’t care, you were alive but he still couldn’t let go of the fact that you didn’t tell anyone you were still alive. ‘Why didn’t you tell anyone that you were alive, send a signal, anything.’

You shrugged as you made yourself comfortable in his strong arms. ‘All communications were badly damaged or completely cut off.’ You told him. ‘I was on my own for a long while before finding my way back to you.’

‘Me?’ Veritas asked, pulling away from you. ‘Why not a medial facility for a proper treatment of your wounds? Have you hit your head so hard that common sense had been left on the back burner when making that decision?’

‘I wanted to see you first you dickhead!’ You exclaimed, shutting Veritas up rather quickly with your confession but you didn’t care. ‘is it so wrong of me to let the man I love know that I’m okay? So go ahead and call me an idiot all you like but that won’t change the fact that I felt more fear about not telling you how I truly feel then dying on some stupid mission.’ You finished your rant.

‘You’re insufferable.’ Veritas said after a moment of silence and you couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed at this that you didn’t notice that Veritas has began to close in the distance between the two of you.

You scoffed. ‘Oh sure call me insufferable as if you-‘ Veritas cuts you off by cupping your cheeks and planting a sweet short lived kiss against your lips before pulling away with a smirk.

‘Glad to know that the feelings are reciprocated.’ He says, taking enjoyment of rendering you speechless as he gently guided you to medical, and remaining by your side for the remainder of the day.

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thekeeperof-thefandoms · 3 days

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I asked a few of my favorite hazbin writers this and only one answered and it was ok but I felt like it could have been expanded on so here's my take

Vox, Val, Alastor, and Lucifer react to your love language being baking/cooking

Vox

(Starting with him because he's the one thaf inspired this).

Vox came from the 50s and even though I firmly believe he is past all the ingrained gender roles and homophobia I think he still has some internalized misogyny. He wants to be viewed as the man in the relationship, the breadwinner, the provider. He can cook for himself but it's pretty basic food (except steak. Like every other man since the invention of the grill how to bbq has been hardwired into his brain. If his partner also grills ya'll fight over whose turn to cook out it is)

(Unrelated but as a lesbian who loves to grill, and is the designated grill bro, butch lesbians or cookout lesbians are some of Vox's favorite type of gays to chill with)

I firmly believe that's why even though he's a sub, it's so hard and would take time and trust to get him to let you top and enjoy it. He's so worried people will find out and judge him, that you'll judge him. His ego can be very fragile.

Especially if we go with the Vox used to be a cult leader theory. His power, image, and success are linked to his ability to appear in control. To appear to have all the answers and take responsibility. It's going to take a lot of time and patience to unravel all that and help him seperate his personal and professional image.

That being said, a partner who uses acts of service as a love language is perfect for him. He's a busy man, so he tends to be a gift giver type. The gifts are always well thought out and expensive. He wants it to be something you need, want, can get a lot of enjoyment from, and be worth the money spent, so he puts time and effort into them. Unless he's just showing off by giving you his card and telling you to go nuts.

So you taking time to make his coffee for him the way he likes, ordering lunch from his favorite places and having it sent to his office so he remembers to eat, or just texting him reminders to drink water or eat/take breaks throughout the day makes him giddy.

If you're his assistant or something, (and I believe Vox absolutely would have his partner working for him/with him), then it's even better when you take on extra work to try and help him. Organizing his schedule, sorting emails/mail, and proofreading things. Any small act you do for him, because you want to and care about him, makes his heart rate pick up.

It'll really make him overheat, glitching slightly, literal heart eyes, if he comes home after a shitty day and you're cooking for him.

His internal monologue is absolutely raving about what a good housewife you are for him, a hard working husband.

Bonus points if you cleaned too! Either way, he adores you even more now, letting you fret and coo at him, removing his jacket and tie, pouring him a drink and telling him dinner will be ready soon and you made his favorite. He's so tempted to bend you over the counter right now, but that would ruin dinner. After you guys eat though, he's having you for dessert. Man's gonna make sure you know how much he appreciates this by turning your knees to jello, good luck walking tomorrow, doll.

If you bake treats and bring them to VoxTek he's gonna brag so much. Literally the embodiment of John Mulaney's, "That's my wife!" If you bring them just for him, he's defending his treats like they're the last ones in Hell. He has literally hit Val with a fly swatter for even asking if he could have one.

(Unrelated but like, chubby vox maybe? You're cooking is too good)

Valentino

Val wishes he could cook better. He's some kind of latino, so I feel like the fact he can't cook very well is a sore spot culturally. He can make the salsa and chips and like, help with stuff, he knows how to wrap tortillas and tomales (I picture him as like Mexican or Puerto Rican but that's just cuz the town I grew up had a large Puerto Rican group).

It doesn't help that his eyesight is even more shit in Hell. He can't see what he's doing hald the time. It ruins his art hobby too. He's overall just more easily frustrated with his bad eyesight.

I don't imagine you guys dating per se. Maybe you're his sugar baby, maybe you're someone he hired to help him do stuff like clean and organize and you just sorta start doing other things to help him. (Again I'm not saying it excuses jackshit, but as someone who worked with bipolar people and people with mood disorder I kinda see the fan theory in him, either way I think all the Vees could be sort of trained to be better people, but especially Val. We already saw Vox do it.)

After all, he's usually in a much better mood if you do and that means less outbursts. The first few times you cook him something he teases you about being his housewife, tries to make it sexual. It's not really something he clocks as being an act of love because I don't think you'd realize it yourself at first. I think the more you got to see him when he wasn't stressed, lashing out, being abusive, you'd start catching feelings. ("I can fix him", delulu asses)

He loves to be in the kitchen when you cook once it starts becoming a regular thing. He can't see clearly what you're doing but the way you move around the kitchen and get what you need, even if you're an ADHD mess and do steps out of order or at random, he can tell you know what you're doing. He likes to smell the food too while it's cooking.

He will ask you to try and make some spicier/more traditional foods he grew up with, but he doesn’t remember all of the ingredients, and it just gets him more frustrated he can't tell you. If you look them up and surprise him with it it'll probably be the most genuine, human response you get from him.

He's shocked, silent, standing frozen in the penthouse as familiar smells waft around him. You present him a plate nervously, practically shaking hoping it's good enough. The first bite nearly puts him in tears. No one's done anything this nice for him? Why would you? Lowkey thinks you want something from him. It's gonna make him paranoid for a while so don't expect a verbal compliment but he eats it all.

Eventually though, one day when you're in the kitchen cooking, humming softly and swaying your hips, one set of his arms will wrap around your waist, the other reaching around you help with the salsa, or wrap a tamale, and he'll prop his chin on your head and mumble out thanks. Some praise, maybe. Would definitely tell you stories about eating these foods growing up.

It's the first step towards having an actual relationship with him.

Alastor

This man almost always insists on cooking. He isn't much of a sweet tooth either. You tell him one night you want to try cooking for him. Tell him you understand it's an activity he enjoys and relaxes too, (especially if you know it's something that reminds him of his mother), but you want to do something for him and this is one way you show you care.

It's gonna remind him of his Mama so much that if you didn't know why he loved cooking so much before you do now. He compromises. You pick the meal and gather the ingredients and do most of the cooking and he helps prep and does dishes.

He playfully critiques you the entire time about adding some spice too it or a little southern flair. Just smack him with the wooden spoon, gently. It's gonna make him laugh because his Mama used to do that when he wouldn't keep out of the sweets, or tried to add stuff to her cooking.

Once you start it becomes habit to help each other in the kitchen every night, trading off who cooks and who preps and does dishes.

If you do find baked goods he likes that aren't too sweet and send them to him as snacks, especially to Overlord meetings, he's so fucking obnoxious about his sweet little doe (doesn't matter if you are one or not) and how they spoil him. Especially rubs it in Vox's face (not him whining to his partner so they send him with treats too so he can also brag).

Only shares with Charlie, Rosie, Niffty, and sometimes Zestiel. If he's feeling generous, Husk can have a bite.

Low-key also has a thing for his partner behaving domestically even if he isn't exactly invested in traditional marriage.

Favorite activity though is dancing with you in the kitchen to jazz while dinner cooks, holding you close, in his room usually, so he can hear the sounds of the bayou. If he closes his eyes he can pretend this is how his life went and that his Mama is in the corner or sitting in her chair, watching him, happy to see him find someone.

He will literally kiss Vox willingly before admitting that last part though.

Lucifer

It's not that he can't cook, it's just....it's easier to just snap his fingers and make food appear. He's been in a depressed slump for decades man, he's lived off of the 'want food, no cook, only eat' mindset.

When you come into his life it's a complete overhaul. Despite what issues you have yourself you can recognize someone in worse state than you and immediately categorize and prioritize. First thing first, get this man's duck collection/obsession organized, thinned out, and under control.

Second, help him work through his issues with Lillith and Charlie. Encourage therapy, be a mediator between him and Charlie (and trust me she appreciates it. She knows her dad struggles, didn't know how bad, and still feels awkward). Help him socialize more, rebuild his connection with the other sins.

Get this man a work schedule!

Then it's on to personal habits. You help him get out of bed, you're both probably a little helpless in the sleeping on time category though. Help him get a routine again to keep out of his funk. Then you start cooking for him. It just happens naturally. You enjoy cooking, you enjoy showing people you love how much you care by providing good meals.

At first he's gonna resist and tell you he can handle that, you already do so much for him. He can cook or better yet he can just make it appear and you laugh and tell him it tastes better when it's made with love. He brushes it off as a joke too, you're both just being silly and obviously you said that to get him to quit fussing. Except, unholy hell does it actually taste so much better.

Lucifer hadn’t realized how bland and unsatisfying just materializing the food was. Maybe that's because he was so depressed and uninterested in what he ate, maybe not. Either way, your cooking is so much fucking better. He actually looks forward to eating now. If he gets caught up in work or has a bad day, you make sure to always bring him something, leaving it as an offering of sorts. It almost always works and entices him to eat at least once.

You cook, he does dishes, and he will not budge on that rule. He wants to be a fair man. He occasionally boots you out to do dessert, though. Apple pie is his bitch and you've never tasted one as good as his. He also makes good pancakes and some absolutely orgasmic angel's food cake.

Ironicall, devil's food cake is one of your go to recipes. Sometimes you both make a cake and take it to events just to watch people get confused as fuck when it's revealed the literal Devil did not make the devil's food cake.

Everyime you're in the kitchen together it's a disaster, you're both to silly and chaotic. You were making noodles one time and he threw flour at you so you smacked him with the noodle you were holding, leaving a line of flour and a speck of dough against his cheek. From there it escalates. It happens every time. Making cakes together, you're smashing frosting on each other. Making cookies, you're fighting each other to stop eating cookie dough.

Once, after you get fed up with him stealing her spatula to lick the chocolate off of, hovering above you with his wings, you pout and bat your eyes, asking him sweetly to please give it back. He swoops down in front of you, booping your nose to smear chocolate on it and leaning in to kiss you, letting you have a taste of the chocolate batter you were mixing for brownies. While his tongue is in your mouth, drunk off the taste of you and chocolate you smash an egg over his head and let out a triumphant cheer, snatching back your spatula.

He's so stunned his wings disappear and he drops the last few inches to the ground while you cackle. His heart is pounding, his ears are ringing, and his chest feels like it's gonna explode. His eyes are literal sparkles. He hasn't felt this much joy, wonder, and love since Charlie was born. It feels like witnessing creation all over again, of the breathlessness he felt when he first saw Lillith.

You're laughter stops when you realize he's just staring at you awestruck and you smile, asking if he's ok.

"For once...yeah..Yes. I'm ok." He responds, genuinely. You kiss his cheek and resume baking. He watches you from the counter now, dreamily, thinking about how he's gonna marry you someday.

#hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #vox x reader #valentino x reader #lucifer x reader #alastor x reader

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ham1lton · 1 day

Text

the talk.

pairing: lando norris x fellow driver’s sister!reader.

format: mixed media smau.

summary: when o/s asked you to apologise to lando she did not expect for you to start dating him? you decide to break the news over lunch at her favourite restaurant. we’ll see how that goes…

author's note: your favourite sisters on the grid are back! the baddest bitches. also you all voted on giving o/s a bf so keep an eye out for that. if you’re confused on the addition of o/s’s bff - read party in the u.s.a. for more clarification!

— part of the nepo sister universe —

liked by oldersister, oldersisterbff and 367,691 others.

yourusername: beachtime!! also someone needs to teach those girls in the second slide some manners…. nasty 😒

oldersister: you’re just jealous.

-> oldersisterbff: she doesn’t understand us pookie bear….

-> yourusername: sometimes it shocks me that you’re both older than me and also considered as the best in your respective fields….

user7: the beach designs are so cute!!

user1: what i would give to have o/s gently put her leg over my arm…

-> user2: what i would give to gently put my leg over o/s/bff’s arm…

user8: you think you’re so slick with the soft launch…

-> oldersister: omg i almost didn’t see it…

-> yourusername: THANKS A LOT user8 😒

-> user8: my bad bae 😩‼️

————————————————————————

DINNER TRANSCRIPT BETWEEN OLDER SISTER L/N AND Y/N L/N

-> as detailed and described to her boyfriend LANDO NORRIS.

Y/N (monologue): so to start, i obviously allowed her to take us to a restaurant that she liked to get her in a good mood. i even get there early. i’m all ready, let be rephrase, i was all ready and early, when my sister walked in. she already was mad so i got a start on ordering my food so she’d have to pay the bill.

LANDO: you and your free dinners.

Y/N: keep talking and you’ll fund my ubereats for the next month. this is a monologue lando.

LANDO: got it babe. mouth zipped. no more words.

Y/N: okay so she sits down and gives me a glare. i’m like ‘oh my beautiful amazing sister who funds my eating habits. i wonder how i have annoyed you on this glorious day’.

Y/N as O/S: stop talking shit and tell me who you’re dating.

Y/N: oh no! my sweet glorious sister! i can’t tell you that! you might cut me off your credit card!

Y/N as O/S: i would never do that. i am a fair and sweet sister. i love you y/n and i will give you a lot of money to prove this.

Y/N: oh thank you! love you. then that’s the part where we hugged it out.

LANDO: has anyone ever told you that you should go into acting babe?

Y/N: yes! you think i have a future in it?

LANDO: yes! now tell me what really happened.

Y/N: i said i was dating you. she spat out her drink and started choking on something. we had to call the ambulance and take her to the hospital. she woke up and thought it was a nightmare. then i told her, she vomited and she fainted. to be honest…. i was expecting it to worse. that’s pretty tame. i think she likes you!

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liked by rollingstone, user67 and 1,283,892 others.

oldersister: thank you to rolling stone for photographing me as a part of their front cover. being interviewed in my own home seemed daunting but it was so seamless and fun.

we talked about betrayal, fashion and navigating being a barrier breaker. go read the full article on rolling stone’s website or in the physical march copy!

oldersisterbff: my best friend is so hot and sexy i love you 😍

-> oldersisterbff: hot, sexy and smart? what can’t you do bae?

-> oldersister: lots of things. like ending climate change.

-> oldersisterbff: i think you could 🤷🏼‍♀️

user17: yourusername hasn’t liked this… um…

-> user72: she doesn’t have to like every one of o/s’s post. you forget she actually sees her sister in person.

user455: i love listening to her thoughts. she’s so intelligent i love it.

-> user12: she has two degrees! one she got and an honorary one!

-> user23: unlike lando. does he even have his gcses?

-> user89: stop comparing the two lol. both of them have complained about how annoying it is.

-> user23: comparison is a part of the job. get over it.

user61: she’s so hot. need her sooo bad actually.

rollingstone: we loved having you o/s as our cover girl!

-> oldersister: i loved being your cover girl!

————————————————————————

liked by oldersisterbff, yourbff and 308,727 others.

yourusername: my bitch pose is NAYYYSSTY…don’t ever play with the cat…. that ELBOWWW…

landonorris: when you said you were hard launching me… this isn’t what i was expecting tbh.

-> yourusername: u look cute mwah 😘

-> landonorris: i’ll take anything you give me stink 🤤🤤

oldersister: just vomited actually…. trigger warning next time please.

-> oldersisterbff: i’m omw babe.

-> oldersister: hurry i can feel the light fading from my eyes…

-> yourusername: BOOOOOO!!! you are not florence pugh.

user56: is this the betrayal o/s was talking about in the rolling stone interview??? she’s so dramatic lmaoooo.

oldersister: this is your man?

-> yourusername: yesss 😍😍😍

-> landonorris: hey sister in law 😁

-> oldersister: blocked for harassment.

-> landonorris: NOOOOOOO 😭

user73: how she a nepo baby twice. got f1 connections through her sister and her boyfriend?

-> user89: not how nepotism works tbh….

user67: he looks so goofy lmaooo.

-> yourusername: good keep thinking that. more for me.

-> user67: girl i want you not him 😭

-> landonorris: nuh uh 🙄👎🏼 you can’t have her user67.

————————————————————————

taglist: @23victoria @luckyladycreator2 @mxdi0 @booksandflowrs @charlesleclercsonlywife @molten-m122 @casperlikej @nichmeddar @decafmickey @evie-119 @ironmaiden1313 @d3kstar (wanna be removed? send an ask!)

— wanna be tagged in any future works? join my taglist! —

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doumadono · 2 days

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Happy 5k celebration! A cup of raspberry ice creams topped with whipped cream and maple syrup for me - Sukuna who has a massive degradation kink

Warnings: smut w/o plot, fingering, oral (m & f receiving), degradation, rough smut

A/N: thank you so much for your support, dear Nonnie; it really means the world to me

5k FOLLOWERS EVENT MASTERLIST JUJUTSU KAISEN MASTERLIST

You were an ordinary woman, living in a small village in the middle of nowhere. Your fellow villagers believed in an ancient creature powerful enough to grant them long life. Year after year, they would select a young woman to sacrifice to appease the deity. Unfortunately, this year, it was your turn.

You were frightened as they led you to the old temple, dressed in a white dress — a symbol of your purity and innocence.

The place appeared deserted, but as soon as the heavy wooden door closed behind the last person leaving, a chuckle echoed through the air. It was a dark, deep sound, much like the rumble of an approaching storm. Suddenly, from out of the pure darkness, a tall, muscular figure emerged.

"Kneel," Sukuna commanded, his voice echoing off the temple walls.

You obeyed, your heart pounding in your chest as you knelt before him without giving his command a second thought.

Sukuna stood in front of you, his cock hardening in his pants as he watched you submit so willingly to him. He reached out, gripping your chin firmly and tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "You exist to serve me, Y/N," he growled, his eyes burning with desire. "Nothing more. You're just a flesh that was made for me to use."

You nodded, your breath hitching as you felt a thrill run down your spine.

Sukuna released your chin, unzipping his pants and pulling out his thick, hard cock. "Now, be a good little minion and suck it," he ordered, thrusting his hips forward.

You didn't hesitate, wrapping your lips around his cock and taking him into your warm mouth.

Ryomen groaned, his hands tangling in your Y/H/C hair as he guided your head, making you take him deeper. "That's it, Y/N," he grunted, his hips moving in a rhythmic motion as he fucked your mouth. "You're such a good little slut."

You moaned around his cock, your eyes fluttering closed as you savored the taste of his salty precum, your warm tears stained your rosy cheeks. You could feel yourself getting wet, even though you shouldn't; your pussy already throbbing with need at the slightest thought of his massive shaft being stuffed in your tiny hole. You stopped thinking straight.

Sukuna pulled out of your mouth, leaving you gasping for air. He pushed you down onto the mat, spreading you legs wide nonchalantly. He quickly pulled up the hem of your dress, prompting you to raise your arms so he could remove the fabric. He then knelt between your thighs, his fingers tracing the wetness on your clothed pussy.

You whimpered, your hips bucking up against the heel of his hand. "My lord," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper.

He reached out, his fingers tracing the curve of your cheek before moving down to your exposed neck, his touch sending shivers down your spine. He then moved his hand lower, cupping your breast, his thumb brushing against your perky nipple.

You let out a soft gasp, your eyes fluttering closed. It all felt good, so so good.

Sukuna smirked, tearing your panties apart with one swift motion. Slowly, with an agonizing pace, he lowered his head and ran his tongue over your clit. He licked you, his tongue exploring your slick folds, his hands holding your hips steady, pinning them to the mat. He then inserted a finger into your core, his thumb rubbing your clit.

You cried out, your fingers gripping the mat as waves of pleasure washed over your body.

Sukuna licked and sucked on your delicate clit, his fingers sliding into your pussy, making you moan louder, just for him. He could feel you tightening around his fingers, your body trembling as you neared your peak. But he didn't let you come, pulling away just as you were about to experience your very first climax. "Not yet, little whore," he taunted, his cock throbbing in his pants as he watched you writhe in frustration. "You don't get to come until I say so. Look at yourself. Pathetic! So inexperienced yet letting me fuck your needy hole raw."

Your cheeks were flushed as you whimpered, nodding slowly. "M-Master…"

Sukuna smirked, opening his pants and pulling his massive member out, aligning the huge, mushroom tip with your entrance and thrusting into you in one swift motion, not giving you time to adjust whatsoever. "Yeah, that's it, dirty whore. That's it. Sucking all of my cock in already, well, well. Such a needy brat. Such a dirty harlot."

You cried out, your nails digging into his forearms placed on the both sides of your head as he filled you completely, bottoming up in your tight pussy. The searing pain consumed your thoughts, and tears streamed down your cheeks as you panted quietly, trying to relax in hopes of easing the pain.

Sukuna groaned, his hips moving in a steady rhythm. "Your pussy feels so good, little minion. That's all you were made for. To be fucked stupid. To be used by me. You're nothing but a fucking piece of meat I can do whatever I want with, you little harlot."

You whimpered, parting your legs wider.

Sukuna's thrusts became harder, faster, primal. His cock hitting that sweet, spongy spot inside you that made you see all white. He began to increase his pace, his cock sliding in and out of your slick pussy. He fucked you rough and hard, his hips slamming into yours, your bodies slick with sweat.

You could feel a tight knot building within your tummy, your body trembling as pleasing warmth started to spread all of your being.

"Come for me, little bitch," Sukuna growled, his fingers digging into your hips as he slammed into you. Sukuna groaned, his pace quickening. He could feel his orgasm building, his balls tightening. He grabbed your hips, raising them up from the mat and pulling you closer, his cock going deeper into your pussy at the new angle. "Open you mouth."

You were a moaning mess beneath him, and you didn't comply right away, so Ryomen simply slapped your cheek.

"Open your useless mouth!"

You complied, opening your mouth.

Sukuna leaned in close, spitting a glob of his saliva directly into your mouth. "Now, swallow," he commanded.

You screamed, complying; your body convulsing as you came hard around his cock, your velvety walls spasming rhythmically around the monstrous shaft stuffed in you.

Sukuna followed soon after, his cock pulsing as he filled you with a thick ropes of his cum.

The temple was silent, save your heavy breathing.

Sukuna pulled out of you, watching as his cum dripped out of your abused pussy. "Clean it up, mortal," he ordered, his voice still laced with authority as he pointed to his cock that stood proud still.

You obeyed, moving to position yourself between his legs and taking his softening cock into your mouth. You sucked and licked him clean, your eyes locked on his.

Sukuna yanked your head away by your hair, glancing down at your used form with a smirk. "I think this year's offering is the best these pathetic men have ever given me."

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scuderiahoney · 1 day

Text

Oscar Piastri x Reader // In Motion Pt. 5

Summary: one plane ride, a little sunburn, and far too many margaritas to count. 6.0k words

Warnings: alcohol, mention of previous sports injury

It’s a lazy Saturday morning. You’d showed up at the house an hour ago and planted yourself on the couch. Charles had been in the overstuffed armchair, and he’d barely batted an eye when you walked in, too engrossed in his TV show. Lando and Max had wandered downstairs eventually, and piled onto the couch with you. One by one, everyone else wakes up and comes downstairs. They have practice in a couple hours, but none of them are in a rush. Instead, they all choose to scatter around the living room. Charles turns on Planet Earth. Everyone’s engrossed by it.

“Hey, my aunt wants to know if we still want the house for spring break,” George says, looking up from his phone as a school of fish swims by on the TV screen.

Lando, whose head was previously buried under a pillow, sits up. “Obviously.”

“The house?” Oscar asks, and when everyone turns to look at him, he deflates. “Sorry, none of my business.”

George’s phone rings, and he answers and wanders off into the kitchen, chattering away. You’re perked up now, blinking around the room. There are smiles on everyone’s faces, now, at the mention of spring break. You’re all in desperate need of some time off.

Max turns to look at Oscar, arms raised above his head in a stretch. “Piastri. D’you have any plans for the break?”

“Not really?” He says, shrugging.

Max nods. “Cool. You do now.”

Max flops back over onto the couch, and so does Lando, effectively burying you once again.

Oscar turns to look at you, brows furrowed. “What did I just sign up for?”

You sit up from underneath Lando and Max, who groan loudly. “George’s aunt has a really nice beach house. We go there for spring break.”

Oscar raises his eyebrows. “Oh. You know, I didn’t mean to invite myself, and you guys-“

“Shut up,” Lando says, face half buried in the arm of the couch. “You’re going. It’s tradition.”

…..

The only thing worse than navigating an airport is doing it early in the morning with 6 hockey players in tow. You’d think they’d be good at travel with all the away games, but they’re not used to having to get themselves places. Lando almost leaves his luggage at the house, Max almost forgets his whole wallet, and you’re sure Alex would’ve been left behind completely if it wasn’t for Lily. Oscar’s the only self sufficient one, likely because he’s been living on his own for so long now. You think of him having to travel to games with his old team, wonder if he wandered around airports alone, and your chest aches. But he’s next to you, smiling brightly, suitcase in hand and clad in a hoodie and sweatpants. Lando’s ordering a beer from the bar. It’s 6am.

Max tries to usher the whole group towards the gate, like he hasn’t been the most scatterbrained person all morning. You let him feel like he’s in charge. It helps his ego. It’s not long before people get distracted- George wants a bagel, Charles wants to look at souvenirs, which is ridiculous considering you haven’t left yet, and Lily wants coffee. Max looks panicked as everyone starts to wander.

You clear your throat. “Okay. Lily, George, and I are going to that coffee shop,” you say, pointing at the one nearest your gate, “to get breakfast and coffee. Charles and Max will go in the shop. The rest of you can join whichever group, or you can wait at the gate. We’ll all be back here in 20 minutes.”

Max looks relieved, even as Charles drags him towards a stand full of license plate magnets with names on them. You head for the coffee shop, and find Oscar’s opted to join, too. Lando and Alex stay at the gate, guarding all the suitcases.

An hour later, you’re all seated on the plane, much to your and Max’s relief. George booked the flights for everyone so he could use his parents’ airline miles, and so you have no idea where you’re sitting until you actually get on the plane. You slip into your window seat, and Oscar stops at your row with a smile. He’s in the middle. George is on his other side. Up ahead, you see Lily, Alex, and Charles, and Max and Lando in front of them. You pity whoever the stranger is that will have to put up with Max and Lando in their row. Oscar helps put your carry on up above, and everyone settles in for the flight.

After takeoff, you push the window shade up. The sun is just barely starting to rise, and you’re already exhausted. Oscar leans close to peer out the window. He hums softly, pointing down below.

“You can see the house from here,” he points out, and you laugh.

He’s right. You can. The house, the ice rink, the soccer fields, they all disappear below. You wave goodbye, and Oscar laughs and does the same. Then you lean over and fall asleep, head resting on his shoulder. He doesn’t seem to mind.

…..

The eight of you descend on the beach house in a flurry of activity. It’s bright and sunny out, and you all wear sunglasses as you haul the luggage into the house. George points everyone to their rooms- you’re glad to learn you have the same one for the third year in a row, up on the second floor, with a nice view of the ocean and a room to yourself. Lando and Oscar are sharing, as are Max and Charles. Lily and Alex get a room, and George gets his own room. Charles offers to take your luggage upstairs for you, and you accept happily.

By the time everyone returns downstairs, you’ve made a grocery list. Max looks at it over your shoulder and nods in approval. There’s a little store within walking distance that should have everything you need. When Max suggests you all go to help carry bags, Lando groans loudly, already complaining about a headache or a sore back or whatever ailment will get him out of it. In the end, it’s you, Max, Charles, and Oscar who head off to the grocery store.

When you get back, you unload things in the kitchen, the four of you moving around each other with ease. Oscar drops the juice and you giggle, Charles hugs the bag of cheese puffs to his chest like a little kid, and Max starts pulling ingredients to make a late lunch.

“M’hungry,” Lando calls out.

“Thought you had a headache,” you call back, smirking as he walks into the kitchen.

“Back ache,” he corrects, smiling sheepishly. “Come on, you know plane seats suck.”

You roll your eyes at him, but you hand him the bottle of painkillers you picked up at the store. He gives you an easy side hug in thanks. Lando offers to help Max make lunch, and you retreat to the back deck for the first time this trip. You breathe in deep as the sun hits your skin, as the sound of the ocean fills your ears. It feels like the whole world is in front of you, stretching on and on.

Oscar walks out behind you, doing basically the same. “Wow.”

Alex and Lily are down near the water, and when he spots the two of you, he waves you over. “Low tide!” He calls out, grinning widely. “There’s starfish!”

You turn to Oscar with a grin, and then the two of you run down the shore to meet them. The stress of the school year starts to slip off your shoulders. For now, it’s just sun and sand and nothing else.

…..

Spring break, as it always does and definitely should, tastes like pineapple and coconut rum and frozen margaritas made in the ancient blender that somehow still works. It smells like sunscreen, the reef safe kind that Oscar insists everyone uses. It feels like sand stuck between your toes, like the crash of the waves against your legs, like the heat of the sun on your skin.

“Why couldn’t you guys be, like, professional surfers?” You ask, face half pressed into the giant beach towel you’re laying on. “This is where I’m supposed to spend all my time, not in an ice box.”

Max laughs and tosses a foam football at you. “You chose the school, too, you know. And you love watching hockey.”

“Max would be shit at surfing,” Charles pipes up, and though his eyes are hidden behind sunglasses you can tell they’re crinkled with amusement. “He is not very good at balance. Like Bambi.”

Max scoffs, picks up the ball he’d thrown at you, and chucks it at Charles’ head. Charles dodges it with a squeak and runs after it in the sand. Max follows, likely afraid of the retaliation that’s coming his way.

“Osc, you’re from Australia,” you say. “Have you surfed?”

Oscar’s laid out next to you, in the shaded portion of the blanket thanks to the umbrella George put up. He burns easily, apparently. You’d told him that you weren’t surprised, based solely on the pale tone of his skin, and he’d glared at you unhappily and then chased you into the waves. Now he lays there, face smashed against the blanket, same as you. It’s mid afternoon. He’s usually a bit sleepy in the afternoons, you’ve found.

He nods, prying one eye open. “Not any good, though.”

You scoff out a laugh. He grins back at you. There’s sand stuck in his eyebrow, and you’re about to reach out and brush it away when a shadow falls over you. You look up and find George standing there. Lily, Lando and Alex are following him up the beach.

“Margarita time?” George asks, grinning happily. You push yourself halfway up, propping up on your elbows, and nod your head. “It’s always margarita time, Georgie.”

Dinner that night is grilled shrimp and veggies and bread warmed up in the oven that all the boys eat too much of, promising not to tell their coaches. Someone asks Oscar to say “throw another shrimp on the Barbie,” which then devolves into bad attempts at Australian accents, which then further devolves into bad attempts at everyone’s accents. You’re left laughing so hard your stomach hurts, the sun setting, the warm ocean air washing over your arms on the back deck.

Oscar’s sitting next to you, and he wipes your tears of laughter away with a napkin and says, “You alright, love?” in what can only be a bad attempt at Lando’s accent.

You snort with laughter. The noise sends Oscar into a fit of giggles, too, and soon the two of you are bent over in your chairs, heads bumping into each others, as Lando tries to insist he doesn’t sound like that and Max assures him that he definitely does. When you finally catch your breath and sit up, they’re moving on to mocking Sebastian’s accent, because they always start making fun of their coach eventually. Lily’s watching you, though, a knowing look in her eyes.

You sit on the beach blanket next to the water after dinner, another margarita in your hand. There’s far too much salt on the rim- courtesy of Alex, who’d coated nearly the whole cup in it- which makes it taste a bit like the ocean. Oscar’s sitting next to you, a cup of his own in his hand. The sun is low in the sky, the horizon turning the lightest shade of purple as it turns to night. Oscar’s bare thigh brushes against yours, and you hold your breath.

The back door to the house slides open, and you turn to look. It’s Charles. “We are going to the store,” he calls out. “Are you coming?”

You wrinkle your nose. “None of you are driving, right?”

Charles shakes his head. “We will walk. We want snacks, and we are out of tequila.”

You nod. “I’ll stay here!”

“Me too,” Oscar adds.

“Okay, I am trusting you two,” Charles teases. “Don’t burn the house down.”

Charles calls out something unintelligible and probably not in English. Inside, you hear Max yell for him, also not in English. The door shuts. Oscar sucks in a sharp breath. There’s tequila in your bloodstream and salt on your lips and the heat of his leg next to yours. You close your eyes, the sea breeze dancing over your skin, and you can still feel his lips on your cheek after that game, weeks ago now. You sit for a while, basking in it.

A few minutes later, present day Oscar’s shoulder bumps against yours. You open your eyes and turn to look at him. His cheeks are rosy pink. You wonder if he’d put enough sunscreen on.

“This is really nice,” he says, softly.

The sand is turning cold beneath your feet. You shiver slightly. He leans into you, warm arm pressed to yours, thigh pressing tighter against your skin. Your heart stutters in your chest.

“Mhm,” you agree, blinking softly at him and biting your lower lip, just to watch and see the way his eyes dart across your face. “George’s aunt is a sweetheart for letting us stay here.”

Oscar hums in agreement, but he shakes his head, hair flopping over his forehead in a soft swoop. “I meant… this.”

He nudges his leg against yours. Your stomach lurches in the best kind of way. He’s leaning back on the heels of his hands and staring at you while the waves crash onto the shore. His thumb brushes against the back of your hand, tiny grains of sand rolling between his skin and yours. You feel the electricity simmer up your arm and zap down your spine.

“Oh. Yeah,” you say, nodding in agreement. “It is.”

You’re not sure whether to laugh or cry or scream. He’s so close you swear you can feel his heartbeat, or maybe it’s just yours, pounding in your chest, going wild over the way he’s staring at you. He lifts his hand from the sand, the one farthest from you, keeps his other arm pressed to yours as he turns just slightly. When his hand comes up to cup your cheek, it feels so familiar. You remember blue paint on his thumb, brushed off on his pants, the poster leaning against the wall and his lips on your cheek. You want it again. You want more. You swear he leans in.

There’s a loud noise from inside the house, and he drops his hand into his lap. Your heart twists in your chest. You can feel the ghost of his fingertips on your skin when the back door opens. George yells something about playing flip cup. You don’t want to play flip cup- you want to stay here with Oscar and let him kiss you like you thought he was going to. But his hand is in his lap now, and he smiles sheepishly and starts to stand up, and you wonder if you imagined all of it.

…..

Two nights later, when everyone has gone to bed, you find yourself still wide awake. You’re buzzing, probably from the afternoon coffee you grabbed with Charles and Oscar at the cafe down the street. Max had said it was a bad idea. Charles is dead asleep upstairs, because caffeine has never really affected him. You’re busy thinking about two nights ago, Oscar’s hand on your face and the way he looked at you. You know it happened. You swear it happened. He’d been about to kiss you. Right? Maybe you're imagining things. Maybe it’s all in your head.

You’re sitting on the couch near the window, the glass of water Max poured you before he went to bed sitting half empty in your hand. You nearly spill it when someone clears their throat. You know without turning to look that it’s Oscar.

You stare out the window at the ocean. “Might go take a walk down by the water,” you suggest, just to see if he takes the bait.

Oscar hums. “I’d better go with. For safety, you know.”

You nod in agreement, not really seeing the need to protest. It’s a silly excuse, but you want him to come with. The two of you head for the doors, slipping in sandals along the way. The night air is cool, and you shiver slightly as you make your way down the beach. The sand is still sun warmed but cooling fast. The crash of the waves against the shore makes you sigh softly.

Oscar’s only a few steps behind you. The moon isn’t out yet, but you catch sight of a few stars in the sky. You stop at the spot where the waves meet the sand, and he walks up next to you. When you turn to look over your shoulder, all the lights in the house are off except the living room light the two of you left on. Oscar looks, too, and then steps closer. You feel like you should hold your breath, but you don’t. The air smells like salt. You wonder if the smell has seeped into Oscar’s hair and skin, or if he still smells like his shampoo and body wash. You hate that you know the scents of both.

“I love the ocean,” Oscar says, not for the first time that day.

You nod. “Me too.”

His fingers brush against yours where your hands hang at your sides. It sends a zap all the way up your arm, straight to your spine. Does he feel it too? That giddy feeling in your chest? The anxious feeling in the back of your brain? The want, deep in your gut, that makes you want to turn and press your lips to his. Does he feel it, too? You’d take a kiss on the forehead. Or another kiss on the cheek. Or just- if he would just move his hand a couple inches, just intertwine your fingers with his-

Like he’s read your mind, he does. He twists his fingers between yours loosely. You nearly choke on your own breath. Get it together. Your heart aches. You need, you want, does he?

“I…” he starts, then stops.

You turn. He’s already looking at you, face half lit up by the light on the back deck of the house. His lips look soft. They were, the one time you’ve felt them, pressed to your cheek in that hallway. His fingers fidget in yours, but he doesn’t pull away. You don’t either. The waves crash onto the shore over and over again. The sleeve of his hoodie brushes against your jaw when he cups the side of your face in his other hand. This time, you’re sure of it. You know what’s coming. He leans in, and you close your eyes.

If a kiss on the cheek sent butterflies wild in your stomach, this sends them through your whole body. Every nerve is on fire when his lips meet yours. Maybe it’s just because you’ve been waiting for so long. He’s warm against you, and his hand leaves your wrist to wrap around your waist and pull you close, and he tastes like rum and salt and smells like sunscreen. You tilt your head and let him deepen the kiss, let him take the lead, let him in. He’s smiling into it, and it makes your heart ache. When you tangle your hands in his hair, you can feel the sand stuck there, can feel the salt that still coats the strands from his swim earlier in the day. His hand slips to the back of your neck to hold you closer, and you melt for him, for the way he holds you so carefully and so surely, the warmth of him burning up your skin. He giggles into the kiss, light and airy and so Oscar it almost hurts, and you can’t help but match it.

He kisses you for what feels like forever. You can’t find it in you to complain.

…..

The rest of spring break tastes like coconut rum and tequila and Oscar. It feels like sun and sand and his hand wrapped up in yours, sneaking away at any chance you get. It smells like sunscreen and his cologne on the hoodie you stole from him, and it sounds like seagulls and his laughter, and the words he whispers into your ears when nobody’s nearby.

He steals you away while you’re in town, wandering the shops with everyone. He’s good at melting away into a crowd- and it is crowded, it’s spring break and everyone’s had the same idea as you. You hide in a souvenir store while you watch your friends disappear, and you don’t even feel guilty about it. You can’t, not when Oscar’s tangling his fingers with yours and pointing at a little beaded bracelet he says would look good on you. When he takes it up to the counter and buys it, and then loops it around your wrist for you, you feel absolutely giddy. You feel it even more when he kisses your temple sweetly. You rejoin the group a while later, just as they’re starting to worry. Nobody notices the bracelet, but you run your fingers over the beads all day.

Later in the week, he suggests a trip to the ice cream shop when everyone’s half asleep, mid afternoon. You’re tired, too, but when he says it, you suddenly feel wide awake. Once the two of your are out of sight of the house, he pulls you under his arm, hand squeezing at your shoulder the whole walk there. He buys you ice cream and shares his with you, too, and when he stops to kiss you on the walk back he tastes sweeter than ever.

There’s a lot of that- kissing. Anytime the two of you are alone. It’s overwhelming in the best way. Like the two of you have been holding back for so long that you can’t quite find it in you to stop. You sneak out of your rooms after everyone has gone to bed and meet on the beach at night, just the sea and the stars bearing witness as it all falls into place. You point out constellations, and Oscar tells you about the night sky in Australia, and how it feels different here. He finds you seashells admiring the way and gives them to you at night, and you start doing the same, each of you building up collections. They cover the empty space on the nightstand in your room.

One afternoon, you walk to the park nearby, all together, with a little picnic. It’s sweet- Max and Lando throw a football back and forth, and you sit in the grass and have cheese and crackers and fruit and watch people pass by. Eventually, George, Alex, and Lily head back to start dinner, and then Max, Lando, and Charles leave to pick up drinks on the way home. You and Oscar linger, though. They make it so easy to sneak away, really. You take the chance to lay on the blanket with him, your bed on his stomach, staring up at puffy white clouds in the big blue sky. His hand draws patterns on your shoulders.

When you finally head for the house, you walk past a set of soccer goals on a patch of grass. It’s easier, now, especially because it’s not the field where you got hurt. Oscar squeezes your hand anyways. It’s sweet. Something makes you slow to a stop. There’s a ball sitting there, in the middle of the field, black and white in stark contrast to the green. You drop his hand, and he makes a mild sound of protest. You walk over to the ball and toe at it gingerly, feeling the way it rolls under your foot.

He just eyes you carefully,

“We’ll take it easy,” you promise, and he nods. “I just…”

You can’t explain it. For years, you’ve never wanted to go near a soccer field or goal or ball. For years, this idea has brought tears to your eyes. But right now, you want to try. Oscar takes a step closer. He’s smiling.

You kick the ball at his feet. He passes it lightly back to you. The two of you exchange a look and take off down the grass together. You zig zag to every corner of the grass, not trying to get anywhere in any sort of hurry. You build up speed as you get closer and close to the goal, passing the ball back and forth with him. It feels good, to move your body and feel the grass beneath your feet. To feel the ball bounce off your shoe, to watch him accept the pass that you’ve placed so perfectly. You’re rusty, stiff, out of practice, but a little part of this still feels like home. There’s an achy feeling in your body that starts to melt away.

You don’t even realize what you’re doing, at first. He passes you the ball, and you’re in range of the net, and- you dart around him, eyes on the prize, now. He laughs, tries to go after you, catching on nearly immediately. But you’re too good at this, too fast- he’s used to blades on his feet and ice beneath him, not tennis shoes and grass and a ball rolling in front of you. You look up, find the goal, see your spot, and kick.

It sails through the air, hits the net, and falls to the ground. Goal. Behind you, Oscar cheers loud enough that when you close your eyes, you can imagine it’s all still there. That you’re really playing soccer, in front of a crowd again, scoring a goal, taking your team to a victory. You soak it in, for just a moment.

When you open your eyes, you’re on your back, staring at the sky, Oscar’s face looking down at you. His brows are furrowed.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” He asks.

You shake your head. You know the tears in your eyes must contradict that. Oscar shifts on his feet for a second and then collapses to the ground next to you, legs kicked out away from yours, his head right next to your shoulder. The two of you form a little v on the grass, staring up at the sky.

“I didn’t realize how much I missed that,” you admit. “The… running, and the chasing, and the… scoring.”

His hand brushes against yours, then comes down to lay flat atop the back of it. His palm is warm and soft. You try to breathe normally. It’s easier said than done.

“You could always try again,” he says, quietly. “Do a club sport, or a league of some sort…”

You shake your head. “Nah, my knee is already starting to hurt.”

You rub your fingers against the ache. He sighs, heavily, and squeezes your hand. You turn your head to look at him. He’s close, closer than you realized. It wouldn’t take much for you to lean in, and nobody else is here, so you do. Just a short kiss, because you’re laying on a soccer field and there are kids and families nearby. But you want him to know how much this means to you. When you pull away, his cheeks are pink, and you think he understands.

Eventually, you know everyone will start to wonder where the two of you are. So when Oscar stands up and offers you a hand, you let him pull you up off the ground. He brushes grass off your back, and when you get back to the house, you head upstairs to change and hope nobody questions the grass stains on your shirt.

One night, after everyone’s in bed, you curl up on the beach on a blanket, your head against his chest. You listen to the waves and stare up at the stars. He draws lazy patterns on your back, his hand against your bare skin under the sweatshirt you stole from him.

“This is a real thing, right?” He says, quietly. “Not just a spring break thing?”

You smile into his chest, your cheeks suddenly warm. “God, I would hope so.”

“Okay, cool,” he says, in a very calm voice, like you can’t hear the thud of his heartbeat. “Cause I‘ve wanted this for a while.”

“Me too,” you murmur back.

Then he kisses you again, hand under your chin to pull your face to his. He’s a little sunburnt, and you can feel the heat of it on his skin when you brush your lips against his cheeks. Then again, maybe he’s just blushing. The way he smiles makes you think that might just be it.

…..

Keeping it from the rest of your friends is sort of… unspoken. It’s easy, like this, just the two of you. Easy to kiss and hold and talk and laugh without the pressure. You try to remind yourself that it’s okay to take it slow. That you have time to figure things out. And it’s easier to figure things out when you don’t have 6 other people’s opinions on it, let alone the whole team’s once they all find out. Whenever someone walks into the room and Oscar pulls his hand from yours, he scans your face, like he’s checking to make sure it’s okay. You always smile in return, and he lets out a little relieved sigh.

The very last night, you all order large amounts of pizza and breadsticks, and you spread out on blankets on the beach for dinner. The sun is low in the sky, and everything is golden. Oscar finds a spot next to you, laid out on the blanket. Max is already talking hockey plays, Lando listening intently while Alex rolls his eyes. George, Charles, and Lily are chatting about starfish. And Oscar is watching you, eyelashes fluttering against pink tinged cheeks. He’s being painfully obvious. When you smile back, you know you are too. For a moment, though, it doesn’t matter. Nobody’s paying attention anyways, as he brushes his fingers against the back of your hand where it lays on the blanket. It’s just you and him, for just a moment.

The next morning, before you head to the airport, you wake up early and find Oscar in the kitchen, cutting up fruit. His hair is a tousled mess, eyelids heavy, but when he sees you, he smiles, bright and warm and sweet. You walk over and slip between him and the counter, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“I was busy, you know,” he mumbles, though he doesn’t pull away when you lean in to kiss him.

“Mm,” you sigh. He tastes sweeter than normal. He’s definitely been sneaking bites of fruit as he goes. “Mango. My favorite.”

His cheeks are flushed. “Thought I was your favorite.”

You shrug and wink. “Close second.”

He swipes a piece off the counter behind you and presses it to your lips. You give him a closed lip smile as you eat it, feeling warm all over. He leans in and kisses you again when you’re done chewing, and you have the sudden, strong urge to pull him close, to press your hips into his, to let him pin you against the counter. But your friends are probably all about to wake up, so instead, you pull away and press a finger into the swell of his cheek. He laughs and kisses the furrow between your brows.

“Heading home today,” he mumbles, smile falling slightly.

You nod. “But it’s not just a spring break thing, remember?”

He nods again, the smile coming back to his lips. “Yeah. Just. Do you think we need to tell them?”

You know what he’s talking about. Or who he’s talking about, really. You tilt your head, chewing on your lower lip. “Do you think we need to?”

He sighs, nose bumping against yours. “They’re your best friends.”

And. Oh. Right. You hadn’t really thought about it like that, that it’s not just his teammates and your friends. It’s Lando and Max. Your chest twists. You like that it’s just you and Oscar, but you think about them, about how you share everything, and you wonder if they’ll be upset. Not even that it’s him, but just that you didn’t tell them. On the other hand, they’re likely to get overprotective and weird when they do find out. Max banned a guy you went on a date with from all parties your sophomore year, until Charles told him off for it, but by then it was too late. The guy was a jerk, which was half the issue, but still.

You blow out a puff of air, and then you have an idea. “I might… tell them I’m seeing someone, to start,” you suggest. “Just not who. Just… someone. Is that okay?” You ask.

“I think that’s a good idea,” he says.

“Okay. Cool. Me too,” you say with a nod.

Oscar giggles. You hear a door open, and footsteps. He groans, and you lean in one last time to press a kiss to his lips before you slip away. You sit down on a barstool just before George walks in, scrubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Morning,” he says, voice scratchy. “Ready to go home?”

“No,” you admit, and Oscar hums in agreement.

When he dishes out the fruit to everyone later, he gives you most of the mango. You grin up at him, wide eyed and feeling so, so happy. When you break his gaze and look across the table, you find Charles staring back at you, a knowing smirk on his face, and you wonder if you’ve been caught. Maybe you just look like a girl with a crush. You still feel like one, really.

You all walk down to the water one last time, dipping your feet into the waves as they crash against the sand. Oscar’s hand brushes against yours as he does the same. You don’t want to ever lose this feeling. The sun on your skin, the water tugging at your feet, and Oscar, next to you, feeling the same way you do.

When you pack the bags into the Uber to head for the airport, you feel a wave of sadness wash over you. You want nothing more than to stay, to never worry about school again, to let Oscar wrap you up in his arms and never leave. You pout, and Max catches you, laughing and pulling you into a loose hug.

“It’s okay, Bunny,” he murmurs, ruffling your hair. “We’ll be back before you know it.”

You don’t say it, but you think it- he and Lando are graduating this year. There’s a good chance they won’t be back next year, too busy with work or real life or whatever comes after college for them. Your heart twists. And Oscar- will he still be yours by then? Not just a spring break thing, you remember, but you have a strong urge to plant your feet in the sand and try to keep them all here. You watch your friends pack bags in the trunk and tease each other and laugh and your chest aches.

“Hey,” Lando says, quietly, sneaking up your other side. “We’ll be back.”

He knows. Max does too, but Lando really knows, because you think he feels it too. Max is trying to play hockey after college, but beyond beer leagues and pickup games, this year will be it for Lando. Senior year is exciting, but it’s a year full of lasts, too.

“Promise?” You ask, quietly.

He links his pinky with yours. “Promise.”

So you climb into the car, and you end up wedged between Oscar and Charles in the row of seats at the back of the car. Max is in the front seat, chatting away to the driver, and Lando’s already leaning his head against the door, half asleep. You press your shoulder into Oscar’s. He spots your hand on the seat between you and reaches out, brushes his fingers against the back of your hand. When you lean your head on his shoulder and let your eyes fall half closed, nobody questions it- you do it to all of them, all the time.

The beach house disappears in the rearview. Oscar presses a kiss to the top of your head when nobody’s looking, and you start to believe everything will really be okay.

bunnyrabb1t

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen33, and 53 others

bunnyrabb1t truly a spring break to remember forever

landonorris still annoyed you and @/oscarpiastri didn’t bring me ice cream back :(

oscarpiastri You were invited & you called our ice cream trip dumb

landonorris doesn’t mean i didn’t want ice cream

lilymhe always a trip to remember with you babe!

bunnyrabb1t ilysm bb 😘

alex_albon hey. back off 🤺

oscarpiastri 🩵☀️🌊⛱️

bunnyrabb1t 🩵🌅🐚🕶️

charles_leclerc 🤨

carlossainz55 charles you are just jealous he is actually on her instagram before you

notes: hiiiiiiii hope this one was worth the wait!! if you are one of the people who told me you were staying up late for this: go to sleep! this is me tucking you in! see ya soon!!

series taglist: @sourskywalker @ivyvlair @gwginnyweasley @annispamz @bearlul @aresriiots @ggaslyp1 @putting-it-into-parc @black-fireproofs @smilinlemon @arieslost @floralkoi @vicurious28 @likedbygaslyy @rorabelle15 @bwormie @treatallwithkindness @fandomnerd11 @adhxmoony @sakuramxchii @insunia @mindflay3r @talking-raw @colmathgames2 @assholeinatrenchcoat @saachiep81 @venusacrossthestars @v1naco @anthonylockwoodandco111 @whalebursoot-main @ellen3101 @k-pevensie28 @ninifee1802 @not-nyasa @pleasecallmeunhinged @andruuu28 @aceofwordsandarrows @dreamsarebig @secretunnels @ginsengi @yayahnaise @f1petra @lovecarsgoingvroom @lalloronaisreal @fangirl125reader @tpwkmera @booksandflowrs @elizanav @lightsoutletsgo @meko-mt @customsbyjcg-blog @bingussthirdtoe @sideboobrry11

(crossed out means i was unable to tag!)

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thevoidstaredback · 3 days

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Bruce figured out their civilian identities pretty quickly. He had to, in order to recruit them. Either way, he knew the names of all of the Justice League heroes and they had no idea who he was.

Most of them either ignored their personas - like Wonder Woman and Green Lantern who didn't talk about their civilian life in costume or vice versa - while others - Superman - sang their own praises as civilians.

Superman's whole having three names thing was useful, and a pretty good cover, but Batman had spotted that the relationship between Clark Kent and Lois Lane was the exact one that Superman and Lois Lane shared, so that was a bit of a moot point.

Personally, Bruce liked his way of keeping people off his tail. Not only were Brucie Wayne and Batman polar opposites, but they were both each other's biggest haters. Although, Bruce publicly admitted that he thinks Batman has the right idea, just not the best execution. While Batman, not on record but definitely heard, has said that Bruce Wayne does good things for Gotham as a whole.

The kids all think it's hilarious, but no one - except Tim, but he's a special case - has managed to cement his civilian and caped identities as being the same person.

Well, maybe Harvey has, but that's because of a lot of reasons. As long as Two Face doesn't reveal that information, and Bruce knows he won't, then all's well.

The point is that Batman knows who the Justice League are outside of capes and masks, but they don't know who he is. Of course, revealing himself would mean revealing his kids, and they wouldn't like that if he was boring about it.

The only natural solution is to be over the top and dramatic about it.

He could keep his name to himself, but where's the fun in that?

Though, it'd be funnier if he managed to keep the appearance of Batman and Bruce Wayne hating each other, especially if he reveals that the Bat Cave is under Wayne Manor.

That'd be funny. His kids would be proud.

His kids will want in on this.

He's got some conspiring planning to do.

#not canon compliant #like at all #dcu #dc comics #dc universe #dc #the batman #batman #bruce wayne #brucie wayne #secret identity #secret identities #justice league #Batman is dramatic and I will die on this hill

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kingkatsuki · 9 hours

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— when you get him a birthday cake

Masterlist.

It’s been a while and this has sat dusty and half-finished in my drafts for months, so Happy Birthday, Bakugou.🥺

Warnings: none. Pure fluff, not proofread.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Word Count: 1.7k.

Bakugou had never really celebrated his birthday, at least not since he was a child. Far too old for children’s party games and toys (although he’d still scour the internet for vintage All Might action figures as a gift to himself, because those most definitely weren’t toys).

But the thing that irritated him more than anything about his special day was the fact that everyone else seemed far more excited about it than him. Masses of texts from his friends, messages online and an influx of gifts from fans all trying to wish him a very Happy Birthday. News outlets and media suddenly in talks with his PR team to try and get an interview with him on the actual day; when truth be told he’d have agreed to it if they’d offered the day before. The tower of paperwork he was trying to work through had become tiresome and he was hoping for a distraction.

How was it that the world seemed more excited about his Birthday than the Number Two hero was himself?

Heaving a sigh as he stopped the incessant blaring of his phone alarm before wincing through tired, narrowed eyes at the bright light of his phone. The screen completely covered in well wishes that seemed to have started when the clock struck twelve. A few trying to coax him out after work for drinks and to celebrate, those he swiftly ignored. It wasn’t until he scrolled down to a message from Mina practically threatening him to go out that he groaned low and deep in his chest; how was it that his friends were trying to dictate how he spent his birthday every damn year? He’d be happy with a bowl of noodles from his favourite hole in the wall and maybe a slice of cake from the quaint bakery he liked to frequent on Sundays. Now he was going to have to stay up late, and probably carry an inebriated Kirishima home.

By the time he’d made it into the office, Bakugou had put his phone onto do not disturb. Sick of the constant stream of messages that didn’t seem to dissipate. Another thing to add to the list of things that irked him about his special day— and he hadn’t even received the call from his Mother yet. Less of a call to send him well wishes, and more an excuse to remind him that he’s another year older and still painfully single and she’s still without a grandchild. Running a palm down the length of his face as he stepped into the elevator to take it up to his floor.

“Good morning, Dynamight,” You smiled from your desk as he walked past, “And happy birthday.”

“Thanks.” He rasped gruffly in response, it was the first time he’d used his voice all morning.

“I left you a coffee on your desk.”

God, you really were the best part about his day.

You were apprehensive when Bakugou walked by with a heavy set frown across is brow. It wasn’t unusual for him to be grumpy this early in the day, the Pro was definitely not a morning person— but he seemed even more annoyed today. And you were positive the influx of gifts that waited for him by the copier would only serve to irritate him more. Especially when a US limited edition All Might figure he’d ordered from overseas as a gift to himself had still not been delivered. Grimacing when you’d checked the tracking when you woke up this morning and noticed it sat in an airport postal office on the outskirts of Kawasaki; you knew he wouldn’t be happy.

And that’s why you were even more nervous for him to see the gift you’d left sitting on his desk. A gift that definitely couldn’t compare from the small fortune he’d spent on himself.

It was difficult thinking about the perfect gift to get a man that could buy himself anything he wanted, even more difficult when the man happened to be your boss. Any time you looked through shop windows at the various fragrances, gift sets and jewellery everything felt too ostentatious, too intimate. Putting down a garish tie that you wondered why you’d even thought about buying, and settling on a single purchase of an All Might themed birthday card you were certain was for children as you decided to make him something instead.

“What the fuck is this?” You heard Bakugou shout from his office and you felt your heart rattle against your ribcage.

Standing from your desk to open the parted door to see him standing in front of your gift. The All Might card already open and displayed on top of his desk as his attention now sat on the open white box that he’d unwrapped.

“It’s uh— a cake.” You smiled softly.

Bakugou raised a brow at your answer as he directed his gaze back to the cake that sat on top of his desk. Three tiers of soft sponge covered in a vibrant orange icing, with black lines decorating it to replicate the crosses that sat against his chest on his hero costume. You’d never claimed to be a baker, the cake nothing like the one you could’ve probably picked up from Bakugou’s favourite bakery. You knew the exact cakes he enjoyed too, but when googling recipes none seemed to be close to your level or expertise.

And what made it worse is the dessert had not travelled well on your morning commute. Holding tightly onto the box while you contended with the Musutafu rush hour had meant that the tiers had now begun to slide out of place as the cake sat leaning inside its box, now looking rather pathetic.

“A cake?” He repeated, his eyes glancing back down at the vanilla sponge that had a messy attempt of ‘Happy Birthday Dynamight’ scrawled across the top. The piping bag had not been kind to you when you attempted the design, wishing the text looked more like your handwriting and less like you’d baked with a four year old. Which was probably what your boss was thinking right now as he stared down at the sweet treat.

“I’m sorry,” You felt your cheeks burn, “I thought it would be a nice idea—”

“Did you make it yourself?” Bakugou asked, although it was clear that you had. Any shop that would dare to even attempt to sell a monstrosity like this should be shut down.

“Well, yeah,” You hovered in place, “I tried to follow the recipe, and I thought it was going well, but I think I put too much buttercream on, and I’m not very good at piping—”

You found yourself rambling, and it just made you feel worse. Reaching over to flip the cardboard lid back over it to take it away and shield yourself from any further embarrassment.

“Are you not going to have some with me?” Bakugou stopped you from closing the lid completely, his crimson eyes full of sincerity.

“Cake for breakfast? It’s not even nine am—”

“So?” He scoffed, “It’s my birthday. If I can’t have cake for breakfast today then what’s the fuckin’ point? Unless you’re trying to kill me—”

“No!” You wanted the ground to swallow you whole, “Does it really look that bad?”

You looked down at the sad, pathetic excuse of a cake. Hard to see all the time, energy and love that went into it when it drooped so pitifully.

“It looks like shit.” He smirked.

“I should’ve just bought one,” You sighed, remembering how pretty all the cakes had been on the online websites you were going to order from before you had the brilliant idea to bake one yourself. Hell, even the cute little cupcakes in the coffee shop you went to each morning looked better than this.

“Nah,” Bakugou shook his head, “It’s perfect.”

It was noon by the time Bakugou had decided to pick the phone up to answer one of his mothers numerous calls to him, eyeing the voicemails that she’d left which no doubt chastised him for not picking the phone up. He’d delete those later.

“Katsuki—” Her voice already had him closing his eyes and rubbing his temple as he settled back in his desk chair. Still better than paperwork— “How hard is it for a mother to wish her son a happy birthday. Don’t you forget that I’m the one who birthed you—”

“Yeah, yeah, Ma. I’m sorry,” He sighed, “Work’s been kickin’ my ass.”

“You shouldn’t be working on your birthday, anyway!” She continued, “Why don’t you take the rest of the day off?”

“I’ve got too much to do.” He didn’t. The paperwork could wait, and he didn’t have a patrol scheduled this week. His sidekicks eager to find their own positions in the hero rankings so they’d picked up all the available slots, leaving Bakugou in his office.

“All you ever do is work anymore, Katsuki.” She continued, “When are you coming to visit? Your father says he hasn’t heard from you in weeks.”

“I’ll come by soon.” Maybe. He thought.

“You should be spending less time working and more time settling down. You’re not a young man anymore, Katsuki.” Here it comes, “And I want grandchildren while I can still chase after them!”

He scoffed. Even when he was a child Mitsuki still hadn’t been able to catch up with him, but the thought of her running around after his kids had an unfamiliar warmth swirling in his chest.

“It must be lonely, son,” She continued, and for once he stopped to think about it.

“There is someone, Ma—” Bakugou smiled as his eyes looked towards the half eaten cake that sat on the edge of his desk.

If he could ever tell you.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader

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uncouth-the-fifth · 2 days

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here is my collection of sam and dean winchester reader-inserts 🧛‍♂️👻 enjoy!

Baby I'll Stay (Heaven Can Wait) (witch glamors, fluff, motel smut)

On a hunt with Sam and Dean, your childhood friends and long-term hunting partners, you choose to play bait in order to kill a powerful witch. Thing is, the witch uses a glamor that masks him as the seer's perfect partner—and to you, he looks exactly like Sam.

(You Are A) Natural, Baby (virgin Sam, pure impala sex lol)

part one (oral): You played your fingers on the wheel. Bent over it, squinting at the rain. Slumped back in your seat. All the while, Sam watched you go through the motions passively. He already knew what you knew: you'd have to camp here for the night. Just the two of you. Alone.

part two (oral, sex): “No wonder you’re so wet,” Sam rasps, “you’re already close, aren’t you?” You conceded with a pathetic nod, breathing hard. “All this just from blowing me…” Sam smirks.

Playing House (fake dating + couples cruise) for @daiziesssart

part one: You rolled around everything you wanted to explain to him in your head, but none of it sounded right. Somehow, you landed on: “You think it’s gonna be weird, pretending to be married?” Sam shrugged. “We did it all the time when we were kids, playin’ house.” He closed the zipper of his boot, flashing you an innocent smile. “Can’t be that different, right?"

part two: “My name is _____ Patton,” you introduce in your smoothest, surest voice, “and this is my amazing husband Sam. We’ve been married for…” “—three weeks now,” Sam finishes for you.

Click (first time + cozy winter cabin aesthetic) for @daffodil-mania

“I’m just wondering,” Sam winces, knowing his question is stupid, “why are you still a virgin?” You’re about to laugh in his face, but the earnestness in Sam’s voice makes you hesitate. His question is a genuine one. “...That sounds awful, m’ sorry. But, c’mon. You’re smart enough to know how pretty you are. Charmin’ enough to use it, too. I mean, I’d…” He caught himself. “—Anyone, would, uh…” Sam didn’t finish his thought. He changed his grip on the shotgun swinging from his hand, self-conscious, and cleared his throat. Well. That wasn’t obvious at all. No way in hell you were leaving that alone.

Click, p.2 (angsty love confession sex + season five) for @daffodil-mania

He’s really here. The part of you that had worried the argument with Sam would be your last wails with joy. He’s here, alive and in front of you. No matter how awkward you feel you can’t bring yourself to stop staring at him. By the buttery light of your bedside lamp, he literally glows with beauty, and you realize he’d scrubbed his boots off on your welcome mat to not track mud in, and he’d hung up his rain-soaked jacket in your shower to dry. Stupid polite Sam things. You dare to glance back at your kitchen, then swivel to squint at him. “Did you… do my dishes?” Sam lets his hands relax into his lap and nods, shy. He’s looking at you in a way he never really has before, eyes big and soul-rending. “…Yeah. I used the key you gave me to get in… Hope that’s okay.”

Mandy Davis, you punk ass bitch (birthday fluff for the boy!!!)

You wake up early to make sure you're the first person to wish Sam a happy birthday—since he's basically never had one before.

One of These Nights (cheating-but-not actually angst + Impala makeup sex) for @lacilou

“S’ a good night,” Dean tells you, beaming, “we can do another round, right?” “Hell yeah,” you shrug, and raise your empty glass, “Here’s to alcohol poisoning, baby.” “Yeah,” Dean echoes, almost slurring. “Baby."

#uncouthspn #spn #supernatural #sam winchester #dean winchester #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader

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cenorii · 11 hours

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RE headcanons!

PART 1 (if you like it I'll make a sequel with other characters. I was just bored)

My serious headcanons about some RE characters. Some I'll write about more than others because I thought about them more often, I apologize in advance.

Chris Redfield

— his favorite color is green, he enjoys this color and adds it to any set of clothes, even his military gear. He doesn't care if shades of green may not match at all in the same outfit, he just wears that color because he loves it.

— his favorite genre of music in the early years, judging by his daring clothes, guitar and references to «Queen», was heavy metal and pop-rock. Nowadays, many years later, he probably likes the laid-back tunes of «Roxette» and «Savage» because Chris' life has become hectic and he needs an island of peace.

— he smokes, but he's not a heavy smoker. In his youth, Chris smoked a lot and often, judging by his concept art. Now, however, he smokes to get in the right frame of mind and pace, to focus and calm down.

— After the amnesia episode, Chris stopped drinking and now only drinks on holidays. Drinking has become disgusting to him, it reminds him of his episode of weakness.

— Chris prefers his natural scent, doesn't use any special perfume on himself because he washes with regular soap.

— he's a latent gay man, but he's never been in a relationship. Chris seriously doesn't understand why he isn't attracted to women. The last thing he thinks about is his real orientation. He's silly.

— he likes Wesker more than Chris is willing to admit. Since he doesn't realize what kind of attraction it is, Chris doesn't guess his crush. He's too inexperienced in love affairs to realize it. Especially when it comes to Wesker, who he has a ton of emotions associated with, a lot of which are negative.

— Chris has some guitar skills, but after 1998, he barely remembers it. He can't sing, he's just an amateur at it.

— he doesn't know how to cook, ordering takeaways. Chris doesn't like junk food, having given up his attempts to learn how to cook and not even opening the cookbook Claire gave him.

— Chris never has enough time to shave his face or cut his hair. But that doesn't bother him.

— he had a low grade in school, Chris liked fun more than textbooks.

Wesker

— his favorite color is blue, but Wesker doesn't like others to know too much about it, so he adds this color to his clothes very carefully. Blue color in his clothes has never been the main color, it is only an accent.

— Wesker doesn't usually listen to music, he prefers silence, but if he had to choose, he would settle for Frank Sinatra songs. He can only listen to something that won't throw him off his thoughts.

— Wesker doesn't smoke or drink. Spencer dreamed of creating an ideal society, so he raised the Weskers as ideal people. Such people should not drink and smoke. These people should only spend time on self-development and so on.

— he doesn't swear. Wesker doesn't like and/or know how to swear because of his «proper» upbringing. He will never insult a person with a rude word, but will pick up the most innocuous one, even if he is very angry. Who shouts «self-righteous fools» or «ignorant cretins» in anger? Only the child or Wesker, because in his situation I'd be yelling «assholes», «fucking bastards» and so on. He's polite and well-mannered, just like Spencer wanted.

— he has a good sense of humor. Wesker doesn't seem like a joker because his jokes are very subtle and infrequent. He says «I have a date to keep» and then goes and destroys the Red Queen with the phrase «goodbye, fair lady», isn't he the most serious joker in fandom after that?

— Wesker is pansexual, but he doesn't care about relationships and so he, like Chris, is not even aware of his preference. He doesn't pay attention to it, so his involvement with Ms. Muller or his sudden obsession with Chris doesn't give him any reason to wonder what his orientation is. He doesn't care.

— he's in love with Chris, but he sees those feelings as a manifestation of his pride in him.

— his bathroom shelf is filled with various self-care products, and he is very worried about his appearance. First, the smell of his perfume enters the room, and then Wesker enters.

— Ms. Muller was not just a «one-night stand» for him, there was a warm relationship between them, because she remained in good opinion of him and even kept the child. This is a side of Wesker that is unknown to the players, because he had no opportunity or chance to show it. I think they broke up because Wesker was getting too attached to this woman and she was becoming his weakness, and he «can't have weaknesses». His job may have also interfered with the relationship, causing Muller to make her own decision to get out of his way, keeping the good memories alive. Wesker, on the other hand, tried to forget about that pleasant time with her so it wouldn't interfere with him.

— he is not ashamed to recognize someone else's merits and praise another person. He appreciates people who are good at something, he is sincere about it.

— Wesker is not a villain and an antagonist, he is the anti-villain. He has all the personality traits that fit that definition. He is not the pure evil that many believe him to be due to their inattention.

— he can cook, and he does it well. Wesker is known for being great at everything and cooking is no exception. Back in the days of S.T.A.R.S., he took care of his healthy diet, but once he gained power and became a bioterrorist, he stopped cooking for himself, preferring to order food from restaurants or have a personal chef. Because of the virus, he doesn't need to eat as often as normal people, so he really enjoys the process, since it rarely happens.

— because of his principles or Spencer's upbringing, Wesker can't directly harm a child. Children have never been a target for him, and he considers it beneath his dignity.

— his name is a mononym. Wesker doesn't call himself Albert and doesn't like it when others do (but doesn't stop them out of politeness). He is Wesker to everyone and to himself. However, there is a contradiction here — he hates the word «Wesker» and this whole project. Surely he must have considered changing his name if he had achieved the evolution of humanity. He still uses his initials AW when necessary.

Leon S Kennedy

— Leon has no color preference, he wears whatever clothes he feels comfortable in. He doesn't care if the colors don't match.

— he loves children and is easy to get along with.

— he uses feminine shower gels and likes sweet scents.

— likes to drink to relax or for any other reason. But he doesn't smoke.

— the music that Leon likes is very hard to define. He is probably a music lover who listens to whatever he likes.

— Leon isn't shy about swearing. He likes to make silly jokes to lighten the mood.

— He knows how to cook, but not very well, but these skills are enough for him. Leon can make toast or fry eggs, but it would be difficult for him to cook something more complicated, so he often watches tutorials on the Internet or eats fast food.

— Leon is bisexual and he knows it. He's crazy about Ada Wong, but he tries to hide it, which is unsuccessful.

— he likes karaoke.

— it annoyed him that if he showed up in any kind of transportation, there was a high probability of an accident or something. He sometimes wondered if he was a loser.

— he had a girlfriend once, but the affair was so casual that it broke up after almost a month.

— In school he had average grades, Leon could not be called a bad student, but he was not an excellent student either.

Ada Wong

— her favorite color is not only red, but also black.

— she loves elegant clothes and doesn't care if they don't fit her work. Despite the design, Ada chooses only clothes in which she can move freely.

— only Wesker knows her real name, and her name «Ada Wong» is just a rehash of «AW» (Albert Wesker).

— I like to think that she and Wesker could have acted like best friends, but voluntarily opted out for personal reasons.

— Ada pretends not to like music, but she actually likes «Marina and the Diamonds». She listens to these songs alone, in a deserted place.

— she smoked once, but she quit. She doesn't drink.

— Ada doesn't have any holidays, she doesn't even celebrate her own birthday.

— she's straight, and she's openly attracted to Leon.

— loves subtle scents in perfume, she always smells nice, but this scent is barely perceptible.

— Ada can't cook and hasn't tried to learn. She eats food from cafes and prefers to go there herself instead of having it delivered.

— She has no problem with foreign languages, she probably knows a few besides English.

— she was an honors student in school and she's easy to learn new things.

— Ada is an anti-hero.

Alex Wesker

— Alex's favorite color is white. It is the color of sterility and truth that she strives for in her research.

— I guess her full name is Alexandra.

— loves getting her nails done to cheer herself up. Due to illness and failed experiments, she is always in a bad mood, so taking care of herself helps her keep her head cool and rational.

— Alex loved her own short hair, which she had in the past, but it reminded her too much of Albert, whom she respected. Because of what she knew about «Project W» and the truth about them, Alex felt a kind of guilt for keeping her brother in the dark and lying. So she changed her image so she wouldn't think about it.

— she's a lesbian.

— Alex knows Russian.

— she must have a secret altar in her house dedicated to Albert.

— she respects Albert so much that she even tries to think and act like him. It is forbidden to insult her brother in her presence, even though they have hardly ever met and are not related.

— Alex did grieve when she learned of her brother's death in the volcano. But when she learned of his death in 1998, she was not sad, because she had not yet had time to get to know him so well and get into his personality.

— the clothes Alex wears are formal and office style. She doesn't like to wear something informal because she feels insecure in it.

— the mole under her eye is painted, or appeared there with age.

— Alex likes only classical music, her ear cannot perceive anything from modern genres.

— Has never thought about relationships, but can admit if she likes someone.

— Alex's only humor is black.

— often communicates with quotes from books, like someone quotes from songs. This helps her to express her thoughts properly and emphasize them.

— she's a lot harder to piss off than Albert.

#resident evil #rebhfun #chris redfield #albert wesker #leon s kennedy #ada wong #alex wesker #resident evil headcanons #I don't want to offend anyone

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ncistivaparis · 3 days

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As usual I’m starving for Tiva scenes. And recently I realized one could find “Tiva” scenes in other episodes! That’s currently what I’m doing!

Let me tell you about 11x08:

In this episode someone is driving Tony to Quantico since he doesn’t have any car due to the car crash in 10x22. (I personally think this shows how hard it is for him to move on from the previous time, an implicit reference to Ziva). Anyway, in 11x08 Mcgee assumes that a lady has been driving Tony to the crime scene, he talks about it with Abby. Later on, Gibbs assigns Tony to go talk to a magnificent woman (once again to cheer up Tony). However, later on McGee finds out Tony has been taking public transports all along, which he notes is weird for Tony.

Finally, Tony and Mcgee end up in front of a church, that Tony apparently knows a lot about! Here is the scene:

Reverend Miller: Anthony! What are you doing here? Your meeting’s not until tonight.

Tony: Reverend Miller, I, um

Reverend: Bringing a new member?

Tony: Um.. He’s thinking about it. A little gun-shy. McGee, the Rev.

Rev: (to mcgee) please join us, it’s a very safe place. All are welcome

(Reverend goes away, Mcgee turns to Tony)

Mcgee: Tony, what’s going on? Do you have a drinking problem?

Tony: (laughing) No. No I just… (very seriously) I joined this men’s support group. Meets in the church hall 2 nights a week.

Mcgee: you serious?

Tony: Mm-hmm. I know it…it doesn’t sound like me, but… (sighs) with the past year, I just…wanted to shake things up a little bit. Meet some new people. This guy at the gym told me about the group, and I thought it sounded like a good idea. And it..it is fun. (Mcgee’s in disbelief) the Rev drove me to Quantico the other morning. Interesting guy. He’s helping me being less judgmental.

…

(Tony walks away, while Mcgee stands once again in disbelief )

Let me rephrase it, Tony went twice a week to a group support in a church, trying to move on and to accept the fact that Ziva left him. At the beginning of 11x09, he even talks alone about a woman he apparently met. And as another agent is doing her stuff, she tells him she hasn’t been listening, but tells him to start over in order to listen to him. Then he litterly begs her to have a reaction to what he said, to be at least “sarcastic”!

Now this is a lonely man. This is a lonely man missing his partner, his best friend, the woman he’s in love with. And so people, Gibbs, Mcgee, other NCIS agent try to pay more attention to him, to listen to him, to give him work he’s supposed to like (Gibbs telling him to go talk to a lady he finds beautiful) so that he feels less lonely.

Hence this is the reason why you can see, even after Ziva’s gone, how much she means to him. One could call it an “almost Tiva scene”.

And you know everytime Tony felt bad, Ziva tried to do her best to cheer him up, to make him laugh, to bring him back to his normal self. That’s the reason why I think if she knew how lonely he was feeling, she would have just hold him in her arms. Had she known how lonely he felt, she might have come back.

#tiva #tony dinozzo #ziva david #tony x ziva #ncis #tiva spinoff #im not okay #im not crying you are

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cosmerelists · 3 days

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What Radiant Order Non-Stormlight Characters Would Belong To

As requested by anon. :)

If non-Stormlight Archive characters had the opportunity to bond spren, what orders would each of them belong to?

(I’m a Edgedancer, by the way, per the quiz!)

1. Vin: Windrunner

As pointed out by @itmakesssenseincontext (here), Vin literally thinks The Words that make someone a Windrunner, as she vows to only use her power to protect those unable to defend themselves. So. Like. If there had been an Honorspren around, she’d be a Windrunner already.

2. Steris: Elsecaller

The Elsecaller order is about self-improvement, and it attracts people who are quote "less flamboyant" and more serious, like scholars. Their spren are logicspren. I think this order would suit Steris very well!

3. Wayne: Edgedancer

This is per WOB! I mean, I do see it. Wayne’s power is essentially Super Empathy, as he can make himself understand other people’s perspective in order to pretend that he is one of them. Plus, he literally cannot forget the man he killed, creating elaborate and unhealthy rituals to remember him forever. I guess he does have healing powers too; I dunno if that’s part of the reasoning. Per Brandon, the other Edgedancers would find Wayne “strange,” but come on. Wayne & Lift would get on like a house on fire and would possibly literally cause that.

4. Sazed: Bondsmith

This is one of those that just felt right to me immediately, and then I just had to sit and try to figure out why. I think partly it's because Sazed literally bonded two very disparate Shards together into one, which feels very Bondsmith of him. But Sazed also cared a lot about connecting people and helping people understand other cultures, so there's that as well. I suppose the other one I could see for Sazed would be Edgedancer, given that he makes it his mission to save all otherwise forgotten religions. But I'm going Bondsmith as my number one choice.

5. Shai: Lightweaver

WOB has Shai as an Edgedancer, which I found shocking. I mean...the artistry? The literally becoming other people in order to be ready for various situations? The one last-ditch personality whose entire purpose is to craft an intricate lie to hide Shai from herself??? To me, Shai is a Lightweaver through and through. But per Brandon, Shai is an Edgedancer. So I guess it depends on who knows this character better. A random person who blogs or the literal author.

6. Wax: Skybreaker

As a lawman, basically. Plus, there's the whole conversation between Miles and Wax where Miles tries to convince Wax that if the law is unjust, you have a duty to oppose the law and Wax is like, "Nuh-uh shut up." (Since that so mirrors Kal and Moash, I can understand teh Wax as Windrunner argument, but we can't have ALL the protagonists be Windrunners!)

7. Marasi: Truthwatcher

This is almost certainly just me--I so strongly headcanon Marasi as an investigative reporter that I can't even remember the truth anymore. Ironic, I guess, given the subject of this entry... If I wanted to try to justify this, I guess I'd say Marasi does have a canonical interest in discovering the truth...but yeah, I don't expect many to agree with this one!

8. Rashek: Skybreaker

Had to include this one, as it's a WOB. Not a very good one, per Sanderson, but a Skybreaker nonetheless. Let's all imagine Nale having to deal with Rashek, shall we?

9. Vivenna: Stoneward

Vivinna does feel very Windrunner to me, given her bro chemistry with Kaladin. But the Stonewards are about being where they're needed, about being dependable and good team players, about making the best of a bad situation. I think of Vivenna showing up on a whole new planet, seeing a city without leadership, and being like, "Sure, I'll take over the city guard and forge a team of incredibly loyal guards until it's time for me to move on and go to the next place I'm needed."

10. Ranette: Dustbringer

Mostly because of the tinkerer angle--dustbringers are interested in knowing how things work, plus their power is inherently destructive and so requires careful control. And Ranette, you know, makes guns 'n' stuff.

11. Bleeder: Willshaper

The Willshapers are about freedom--for themselves, and for others. They want to free those who have been unjustly imprisoned. And oh man. What Bleeder wanted was to free herself and others from Harmony's influence, from the way he could literally take her and others over. So she wanted freedom for everyone and would do anything to obtain it.

12. Kelsier: Edgedancer, Dustbringer, or Willshaper

Sorry to end on a WOB, but I'm fascinated that Sanderson can see so many possibilities for Kelsier. An Edgedancer in his desire to change the world back into a green paradise for Mare. A Dustbringer or Willshaper for self-mastery and determination. Honestly, I'm most fascinated by Willshaper, due to the comment that they believe any law is a form of oppression. That extreme form of freedom really feels like it suits Kelsier, to me.

#this got long so I only did 12!#if people enjoy I'd be happy to do more or to have people add on their own thoughts!#cosmere #cosmerelists #Vin #Steris #Wax #Wayne #Marasi #Kelsier #Bleeder #Ranette #Rashek #Vivenna #Shai #Sazed

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vodika-vibes · 3 days

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Since Fives is a really good investigator (evident with him finding about Order 66), can I request an x reader fic where he investigates a string of heists involving Jedi artefacts committed by the reader, who is a flirty master thief, and he tries to pursue her across Coruscant to bring her to justice?

Knew You Were Trouble

Summary: When ancient artifacts start vanishing from the Jedi Temple, stolen from right under the noses of both the archivists and the Jedi Guardians, Fives decides to investigate.

Pairing: Pre ARC Trooper Fives x Thief F!Reader

Word Count: 2484

Warnings: Reader is described as having a feminine body, and wearing makeup. Reader is given the codename Shadow for ease.

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Sorry that this took so long! I've had it sitting open in a Doc for days, but I finally got an idea! Reader's outfit is similar to this outfit from Persona 5 Royal. Though without the weapons. There may be a part two of this, if I ever get the motivation.

“General Nu-”

“Master,” The older woman corrects, as she glances at Fives out of the corner of her eye, and then turns back to her work, “What can I help you with, Corporal?”

“I think a holocron is missing.” Fives replies as he looks at the open spot on the shelf. There’s some discoloration, as though something had been sitting there for a long time.

The older woman hurries over and glances at the spot, a severe frown on her lips. She stares at the spot for a moment, and then releases a heavy sigh. “Again?”

“Ma’am?”

Jocasta Nu shoots him a severe look, and Fives fights the urge to quail under her glare, “How are you at investigations, Corporal?”

“...decent enough, I suppose.”

“Good, follow me.” The older woman leads him through the archives until she reaches her desk, and then she turns a monitor towards him, and she navigates to a file of saved videos, “Watch. This was recorded 5 months ago.”

Fives focuses on the screen.

It’s security footage of the Archives, and he watches as someone, a woman based on her body shape, slips in a window.

She’s dressed oddly, almost in a leotard, with thigh high boots, a long overcoat, and a sharp looking domino mask covering the upper part of her face hiding her features from the camera.

She locks her gaze on the camera and presses a finger against her lips, as if shushing someone, and the camera feed goes fuzzy.

“This next one was taken three weeks after that.”

The monitor flickers, and then there’s an image of the same woman opening one of the vaults before the feed cuts out.

“And last night.”

The monitor changes one more time, and the exact same person, dressed exactly the same, is shown blatantly taking a holocron from the shelf, before she, again, disconnects the cameras.

Fives pulls away from the monitor and focuses his gaze on General Nu, “The same person has broken in three times-”

“She’s broken in a grand total of a dozen times…we’ve only caught her on camera thrice.” General Nu corrects.

“...and the Temple Guard haven’t done anything?”

“They are of the opinion that she doesn’t exist.” The older woman scowls, “Honestly, I don’t even know why she’s targeting us. It’s not like we keep gems on hand.”

“You keep knowledge on hand though. And to some people, that’s worth more than all the gems in the galaxy.” Fives points out.

The woman bristles and then her shoulders slump, “Yes. I know. I want you to try and find her and bring her to justice.”

Fives exhales through his teeth, “With all due respect, ma’am. I’m due to ship out with the 501st tomorrow-”

“I’ll handle it. Will you help?”

Nervously Fives rubs the back of his neck, and then he sighs, “Yeah, alright. Assuming you can get permission, I’ll help. Do you have any evidence for me to go on?”

Master Nu smiles, it’s a sharp little thing and for a moment Fives wonders why she isn’t in charge of the war effort. “The holocron she stole has a tracking chip inside it. And, since holocrons can only be opened by force sensitives, it means she couldn’t have removed it.”

“Why didn’t you tell the Temple Guard about it?”

“Because, again, they don’t believe she actually exists.” General Nu presses a small datapad into his hand, “Here, this is what you need to track the holocron.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll let you know what the Council says about your deployment.”

“Thanks for that too,” Fives replies as he powers the device on and waits for it to scan for the tracking fob that it’s keyed to. As soon as the screen lights up, he grabs his helmet and pulls it on and leaves the archives.

The fob is located in a warehouse only a short speeder ride away from the temple.

And a quick search of the net tells him that the Warehouse is supposed to be abandoned. A deeper search of the net tells him that the warehouse was slated for demolition several years ago, but it just never happened.

“We have arrived at your destination.” The taxi droid chirps, “Thank you for your patronage.” Fives steps out of the speeder and glances at the datapad one more time.

“Seven warehouses,” He murmurs, zooming in a little bit, “I’m looking for building A-2478/23.” The speeder zips off while he’s not paying attention to it, not that he minds, really.

Fives wasn’t planning on returning to the temple right away anyway.

He glances at the datapad one more time, and then looks up and around. The buildings have to be labeled, right?

Ah! There, the closest building, is A-2475/23.

So odds are on the left side and evens would be on the right, assuming that this place is designed with any sort of logic. He jogs over to the first building on the right until he’s able to see the white letters on the side of the building.

A-2474/23.

So two down then.

The warehouse he’s looking for is a little more rundown than the other ones. Boarded up windows, rust replacing the green paint in places, leaking pipes…

And yet-

Fives moves to where the door is located, his eyes narrowing. The lights over the door are new. The broken windows are broken in such a way that it looks intentional. The doorknob on the door is also new, all of the rust is painted on.

He walks over to a rusty patch and he tugs off his glove to touch the rust with his bare fingers. It’s not real.

Someone has gone to great lengths to make this place look like it’s been condemned.

He walks over to the door and lightly touches the doorknob. How long has it been since he’s seen a building using a door like this, rather than the more mechanized ones that are seen everywhere.

Clever.

If he wasn’t looking for something out of place, he’d likely think that this building was ancient and wouldn’t give it a second thought.

Luckily, he’s smarter than the average bear, so to speak.

He pulls his hand away from the doorknob and pulls his glove back on. There’s no way he’s going through the front door. That’s just asking for trouble.

He circles the warehouse, thoughtfully. Considering all of his options.

Opening the bay doors isn’t an option, he’d never get them open on his own from the outside. The ground floor windows are also out, anyone inside would see him immediately.

His gaze lands on the fire escape. Like the rest of the building, the ladder doesn’t look like it would carry the weight of a small child, let alone a man full grown.

However, Fives has already seen evidence of someone going out of their way to try and make this place look more dangerous than it is. So he walks over to the ladder and jumps up to grab the bottom most rung.

Fives hangs there for a moment, waiting, and when the fire escape doesn’t dissolve under his weight, or even shake, he feels comfortable hoisting himself up to the fire door.

The door looks rusted beyond belief, and Fives is sure that it’s all fake rust. But he’s not so stupid to try and touch the door. Fire doors are notoriously sensitive, he remembers that from ARC Training.

So he ignores the door, and instead jumps up to grab the ledge of the roof, and he pulls himself up to the ledge.

A quick survey tells him that there aren’t any sensors on the roof, and he huffs out a quiet laugh, “You’d think that a thief would put sensors on the roof.” He mumbles to himself as he steps onto the gravel roof.

A second quick glance around leads Fives to side-step the roof access door, a door that he’s sure is rigged to an alarm, to crouch next to a window. And this, right here, is all of the proof that he needs that everything about the building is a facade.

These windows are brand new, and made from blaster proof material. A material that Fives knows was only invented in the last few years.

He can’t see through the windows, not well at least, but he is able to see that there isn’t any movement on the upper walkways. So carefully, very carefully, making sure that none of the windows are wired, he opens one.

One final check that he’s not going to land on anyone, Fives drops into the warehouse, making sure that the window is closed behind him.

Silently he moves from the wall to peer down into the main part of the warehouse.

There, sitting on a table, is the holocron that was missing. Well, presumably. There are a lot of holocrons on the table.

On another table are some statues. Some books actually made of flimsy are lined up on another table.

There’s an entire shelf filled with weapons of all types.

And there, pacing between the tables, is a Devaronian man. Fives isn’t able to see the look on his face, and, even more clearly, he’s not the actual thief.

A contractor, perhaps?

Maybe the thief was hired by him to acquire all of these things…though Fives can’t think of a reason why. There’s nothing in common between any of these items that he can see, save for the fact that they’re old.

He scans the warehouse one more time, and then movement catches his eye.

There, perched on a wooden crate, is the thief.

Without her mask.

Fives’ immediate thought was that someone as pretty as her should probably be making a living as a model or an actress or something, not living as a master thief. His second thought is that she’s far too young to have stolen all of the things in the warehouse.

“My darling Shadow,” The man is speaking to Shadow, the thief, and Fives pulls himself out of his thoughts, “You’re so talented.”

“Yes,” She agrees, her voice light, “I am.”

“You’re almost as good as your father.” He continues.

“My father never managed to get into the Jedi Temple. I managed it 12 times in the last year.” Shadow replies, sounding bored out of her mind as she examines her gloves, “But please, do continue telling me how talented my father was.”

Her contractor opens his mouth to say something, and then hesitates, “My dear,” he finally says, condescendingly, “No one is as good as you think you are.”

The young woman lifts her head to say something, and then she pauses, her gaze sliding to the upper walkways. Her gaze locks onto his face, and she smiles, slow and pretty. “We have company.”

The Devaronian jerks, “What? Where!?” He spins around and looks up, and Fives, knowing that he’s been busted, moves a little more into the light. “Kriff! It’s the GAR!” The man yelps, before he shoves all of the holocrons into a bag and sprints away.

Shadow, however, doesn’t bother to run. Instead, she smoothly gets to her feet and pulls her mask on. “‘Won’t you step into my parlor?’ said the spider to the fly?” She coos.

It’s a trap. It’s clearly a trap.

But Fives can’t help but smirk, as he leans over the railing, “Does that make you the spider in this scenario, Miss Shadow?”

“Why don’t you come down and find out, little soldier boy.”

He should go after the contractor. He should. That would be the smart thing to do.

But no one’s ever accused him of being smart.

So Fives grips the railing, and he jumps over the edge.

A quick activation of his jetpack allows him to land lightly on his feet only a few feet away from her. “I’ve come to reclaim the items you took from the Jedi temple.” Fives announces.

Her red painted lips turn up, “Have you? How do you intend to do that?”

“I already caught you.” Fives points out.

She laughs, it’s a pretty sound, “Sweetheart, I haven’t been caught.”

“Yet.”

“Oh, you do think highly of yourself, don’t you?” She murmurs. Her eyes, the only part of her upper face not hidden by her mask, sweep down his body, “Of course, I suppose you have every reason to.”

“You could make this easy on both of us and just turn yourself in.”

“Now, why would I do that?”

“You clearly recognize that I’m an ARC Trooper.”

Her smile widens, “The best of the GAR…on the battlefield. And this, darling, is hardly a battlefield.”

Fives sighs, “You’re going to make me catch you, aren’t you?”

She scans him once more, “Well, I’m always happy to submit to a man in armor-” Fives inhales sharply, and he can feel his face heating under his helmet, “But you haven’t made me submit yet.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“So you’re going to let me go? How nice of you~”

“I didn’t say that.”

Her smile doesn’t waver as she moves. Fives curses, she’s faster than she looks, especially for someone wearing heels that high.

Then she’s right in his space. His helmet lifts, just a little, and warm lips press against his jaw. “Catch me if you can, handsome.” Then she’s gone, balanced on the rafters of the warehouse and smiling down at him, “I’ll let you have the stuff in the warehouse, as a treat.”

It takes him a moment to gather his thoughts, “Let?” He rasps.

Her smile is pretty, “Let. After all, you found me didn’t you. Think of it as…incentive to keep looking for me.”

“If everything is here, then why would I do that?”

She produces a datacron from under her jacket, “I like information, sweetheart. And so, over the last dozen visits to the temple, I made copies of every bit of information that I could. And I have it right here.”

Kriff.

Double kriff.

If that information gets out-

There’s a flash of pink as she licks her lower lip, “Are you motivated yet?”

“Well, I guess I don’t have a choice, do I?” Fives’ jaw clenches, “I am going to catch you.”

“I look forward to it, handsome.” And then she really is gone, out the same window that he entered through.

Slowly, shakily, Fives comms General Nu, “I found…a lot. But the thief got away.” He says as soon as she answers.

“How much is a lot?”

Fives looks around the massive warehouse filled with stolen objects, “A whole warehouse full.” He pauses, “There’s more, too.”

“Tell me when I arrive. You and your…twin…have officially been transferred to me.” General Nu says, “I hope he’s as good an investigator as you.”

The comm cuts off and Fives looks around with a sigh. Well, he never really wanted to fight in a war anyway.

#star wars #tcw #star wars au #arc trooper fives x reader #fives x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

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fallingdown98 · 16 hours

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Shout out to Fantasy High Junior Year to get me to post original thoughts on here for the first time on years - Thought after Episode 15, The Last Stand, spoilers ahead

Based on what happened with Buddy, Brennan's callout of "what was loaded into that crossbow?", and Brennan saying in AP that killing Buddy was always on the table this is what I think Kipperlilly Clerickiller's plan was (Also ty Fandom I will be using this forever now)

1. Snuck in with Buddy when the Last Stand was being set up. (Saw some people questioning how she managed to get in, I truly think it's as simple as this)

2. Steal both Buddy and Kristen's diamonds to ensure no reviving can occur

3. I think the plan was to shoot the proctor with rage crystals, causing him to hulk out and depending on timing, no one to stop more monsters from arriving.

4. Based on where she was standing, I think the goal was to blame the crossbow bolt on Buddy and then leave still undetected with Oisin's prepped plane shift

4a. I still think Buddy dying was always part of the plan but I think the goal was to get the Bad Kids to have to ruin their own situation (Having to kill the hulked out proctor, seeing Buddy as an enemy and targeting him, being stuck because if Kristen had used her 7th level slot then they would at minimum be stuck for 8 hours assuming they all managed to survive if the monsters were still coming)

5. Theory here and we'll see if it proves correct but my immediate thought when Buddy died was that KLCK is planeshifting to the Celestial plane and hoping to use Buddy to sneak into Sol's office like when Aguefort snuck in through Kristin's backpack

6. Once in Sol's office, she would be where YES! Was originally created and the reason Bakur supposedly failed his ritual is that he needed to be in a place where a god had been created in order to rez a God.

7. Chaos ensues when corrupted Ankarna is brought back

8. Profit??? I guess??? Tbh the exact reasoning of the Ratgrinders is still the most elusive thing to me. I think my current most likely thought is that Jace is serving as manipulator and that KLCK is the most "lost in the sauce" as it were what with her pre-established anger issues.

Since we only saw a hand I'm reserving judgement on Oisin as he may have only been aware of his part of the plan and not the rest of what Miss ClericKiller has been up to. Not attached so I'm also down for him to be full evil but I'm just not sure yet.

Another thought I had is that the Ratgrinders may yet mirror the Bad Kids not just in class, but also in personal problems.

Ruben and Fig both having identity crises but Ruben has isolated himself so much he's turned to being a lackey

MaryAnn just doing what she's doing because she's good at it, not because it's something she's passionate about

If Oisin's dragon relative is evil and he's going along with the plot because of that, that would mirror Adaine breaking away from her own evil parents

Don't know enough about Ivy to have thoughts on her really, buddy and Lucy could probably be their own post tbh, and as I can't get a lock on Kipperlilly.

Jawbone seemed convinced she was just misunderstood and jawbone usually has a pretty good read on people. But then she's smiling while murdering Buddy and teleporting away. Why does she hate Riz specifically? Is it something he did or is it more generic jealousy (or a crush but I don't care for that theory personally and doesn't feel super supported currently)?

What's the deal with the rage soil and how did they place a rune of Ankarna's name on Yolanda/Lucy if it was unknown at that point?

Anyway, feel free to reblog or tag with thoughts, I'm so excited to unravel more of this mystery.

#fhyj #fhjy spoilers #rat grinders #bad kids #d20 #riz gukgak #kipperlilly copperkettle #oisin hakinvar #ruben hopclap #mary ann skuttle #buddy dawn #fhjy theory #adaine abernant #kristin applebees #Ankarna #the last stand

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The Question of the Collar & the Dark Rise Trilogy

I am pro collar. And Ill tell you why.

I have been seeing a couple posts on this topic and people go back and forth, but none have fully encapsulated what I see as being one of the biggest reasons I believe the collar is consensual and probably a kink. I also think there is a possibility it also allows free will, but today I shall argue for why I believe it’s consensual on James’s part, because that is where the doubt lies within the fandom it seems. It is very clear to me that Will is erotically enticed by the collar also, but who really needs convincing of that?

So, firstly, there are so many instances where we see that James is visibly turned on by the collar. See how Will acknowledges James in the quote below as looking already surrendered, and going “pliant as if the same hot gold ran like sweet need through his veins” :

James is clearly very turned on by the collar, it’s in the text in many instances. The words used here are evocative: need, pliant, sweet, and hot. Where do you see that kind of language other than in the erotica and romance genres? It then goes on to talk about how his shirt is open, how his eyes are glazed, and how he is “yielding”. Basically, this is a sex scene without the sex. The collar is an object of lust for the duo, and this is being communicated to the audience. Authors, when writing, do not use evocative language by accident. No. They paint a picture with words to influence their readers emotionally in the direction they want our minds to go. Every detail is planted on purpose when you are a good author. And Pacat is a good author!

But there is so much more. Here, in the next scene, James is seen wetting his lips:

Wetting one’s lips is a sign of attraction. If you don’t believe me, just Google it! We also have another scene where James’s pupils are blown wide when watching the collar in the throne room scene; yet another physical sign of attraction in a human being and something we see in novels all the time.

But Pacat goes further than just showing the physical signs of being turned on. If Anharion consented to a collar that controls him (to what extent it controls him, we are still unsure) we should see the signs that this is something he is possibly interested in emotionally. Or at least, something Anharion was interested in and James responds to at least on some level. And there are so, so many signs. This is shown through what he likes, shown through what he does, says, and what others say about him (not just Will, but Sinclair as well as others). Why is Pacat seeding all these comments about James’s need to serve, to please, other than to put in our minds that there is an aspect of James/Anharion's character that this is something he likes, and that it is a possibility that the collar might have been his choice in the past? It’s a kink for sure, and something James may determine he is not interested in in the next book, but for the sake of argument, look at the screencaps below:

Will is picking up on something about James’s personality, and James is relieved and perhaps surprised that he has been so transparent. It is clear to Will that James likes to take orders. After all, before he was Sinclair’s (the Dark Lord’s) man, he was the exemplary novitiate, wasn’t he?

In an even better example of this below, we see him kind of asking Will that Will's request for James to come to him after opening the gate become an order. But, why ask this? What purpose does it serve James to make Will give him an order? Why does James want it to be an order?

Will catches on and gets it, equally turned on. His lips curl (in a smile) and lowering your lashes is a sign of submission in human interaction; James is lowering his lashes showing submission to Will. James is aroused here too, because in the next moment he asks Will to kiss him.

We have it from others perspectives too, here below, we have Sinclair telling James he likes to serve, he is a born submissive and to “belong” to someone, echoing what James himself has said to Will countless times:

And just to top this with a cherry, Sinclair’s scene with James he tells us James, upon a successful mission, liked being praised and “sitting at his feet”. This calls to mind the imagery of the chain at the bottom of the throne.

In terms of similar character types in Pacat's work, Erasmus from Captive Prince comes to mind. He was a collared slave and we get some glorious descriptions with him being quite the submissive with the “lowered lashes” (ring any bells?) :

May I just interject to reiterate that the language around the collar is really so sexual, I don’t think I need to post more about this, because some of the screencaps above illustrate this, but I am sure you can all imagine and remember how you felt reading those scenes; they were enticing. I just cant imagine Pacat would use such romantic, erotic, and lush imagery if this collar were the instrument of coercion, compulsion, and humiliation, and even possible r*pe, that we are supposed to think because this is YA fantasy genre and not horror. Someone might argue that they weren’t sleeping together when Anharion was wearing the collar, but I would counter-argue that of course they were! Everyone who knew about the Dark King and his Betrayer knew they were in a romantic relationship, from James’s father, to Gauthier, to Kettering. And we are only supposed to think the collar is all these bad things based off the second hand knowledge passed down by characters like Gauthier, or the vague and evasive language used in the last chapter by both James and the narration (but this is not really shown by James's feelings when he has it put on him). But when James first puts it on, he is described as “hating how good it felt” as well as having some rather erotic flashbacks to Anharion and Sarcean (and that didn’t sound coerced to me, it sounded romantic and swoon-worthy, it sounded like he was being "filled up" which is a way my old therapist friend used to describe being emotionally fulfilled by one's partner). So, why would the principle couple be one that started in coercion and assault? Maybe this is something else being said by Pacat about purity culture, and how there is nothing morally wrong with kink as long as the two are consenting, loving adults who trust each other? James CLEARLY trusts Will to "hold the key" so to speak as he asks him to in the throne room. Just because some of us dont explore our sexuality in this way doesn't make it wrong and I think Pacat is challenging the readers (as Will is being challenged) to reconsider their biases about what is "wrong" not through the lens of what other people think but through what two people feel is right in the loving and trusting relationship that they have together through Total Power Exchange. This is not a story about abuse. Who would want to read that?

No, this is something else in my opinion. I think the collar is completely in line with the desires of Sarcean and Anharion, and their reincarnations are now echoing those desires thousands of years later and they will see whether it is ultimately something that they want to explore together in the next book. The collar was consensual: it is not in line with the YA romance fantasy genre to have a couple start out so grossly abusive towards each other, especially when the language is evocative of romance, and the personalities are showing desire. I think we are meant to challenge our assumptions here about people and what is considered “normal” instead of just thinking if a couple doesn’t fit our idea of a perfect mold that there must be something wrong with them. Also, please remember that Pacat is twisting our heads in one direction with the characters own misconceptions and half truths, when I believe he is planting enough evidence to surprise us (and Will) in the last novel with the revelation that has been hidden in plain sight all along: that Sarcean wasn't hurting Anharion. On the contrary. He was freeing him.

#dark heir #dark rise #cs pacat #dark heir spoilers

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